Reproductive Rights Duplicity

“Future generations will look back at the beginning of the 21st century and marvel that intelligent people actually tried to stop biomedical progress just to protect their cramped and limited vision of human nature.”

-Ronald Bailey

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Hello?  Is this thing on?  Can you hear me?  Here, let me step up here on this soapbox so you can hear me better.

Reproductive Rights.  What does that phrase mean to you?  According to the Center for Reproductive Rights their “issues reflect what a woman needs to direct her own life and make healthy decisions: Legal, safe, and affordable contraception and abortion.  Good obstetric and prenatal care for a safe & healthy pregnancy. Information about reproductive health that is free from censorship.”

I’m confused though as to why reproductive rights apparently only apply to those who can get pregnant and those who don’t want to get pregnant.  And an organization that’s whole purpose for existing is to further the reproductive rights of women has only officially been involved in one instance of the rights of couples to pursue fertility treatments (and that wasn’t even in the United States).

Another term that is quite a misnomer is family planning.  According to Wikipedia, “family planning is the planning of when to have children, and the use of birth control and other tecniques to implement such plans.  Other techniques commonly used include sexuality education, prevention and management of sexually transmitted infections, pre-conception counseling and management, and infertility management”.  But when you do a Google search for family planning the services that come up are birth control, sexual education and abortions.  And lets not even begin that the picture that was deemed appropriate to symbolize family planning in the Wikipedia article was a picture of a common birth control package.  Again, how is it that the term family planning apparently only applies to those who don’t want any or more family?

Realistically, why is infertility treatments not included in family planning?  Just because I am biologically impaired when it comes to conceiving my children doesn’t mean that the methods I choose are not family planning.  Considering the fact that a heck of a lot more “planning” goes into any fertility treatment, I’m confused as to why infertile couples are overlooked and often mocked for their family planning efforts.

Take into consideration the growing environmental movement.  An article written for the online blog Babble was about how eco-activists are pushing the idea of overpopulation and how it is environmentally irresponsible to excessively procreate.  Titled The New Eugenics, the article also discusses how couples who pursue fertility treatments are often scorned as being indulgent, selfish and the four-letter-word of the eco world – polluters.  The author uses another article from the New York Times Magazine, this article was written by a woman who hired a surrogate after five years of fertility treatments.  Yet despite being a well written article about one couples infertility journey and their choices in their family planning sadly very few of the anonymous commentors took away the intended meaning of the article.

There were 404 comments to this article.  The first comment was left by H.H. in Port Hardy, British Columbia, Canada.  The enlightened H.H left the following comment:  “You’d think with nearly 7 billion people on this planet, a couple might think of it as a blessing that they can not add any more “consumers” to our Earth’s already overstretched resources.”  Sadly, H.H. wasn’t the only person who left such comments.  The author wasn’t just chastised for adding more “consumers”, she was overwhelming dismissed as being elitist and having more money than sense. The comments to this one article overwhelmingly prove that that the population as a whole just does not get infertility issues.

I don’t know about you but Husband and I are not rich by any standard.  I am a medically-retired, stay-at-home-wife.  I go to school full time.  Husband works for the government.  Luckily I was able to retain my health insurance because of my pancre-ass but my military insurance doesn’t cover all of our fertility treatments.  Infertility is an expensive disease.  And one that isn’t just a physical affliction, its mentally and emotionally exhausting.  It is a disease that permeates to the very fiber of your being.  Biologically, your reason for existing.

I’ve read articles and comments that actually go as far as suggest that as an infertile couple, we should “save the world” and adopt.  We should not be allowed to procreate and/or should use the opportunity to rescue the abandoned children of the world.  I’m sorry.  I am not here to save the world of its ills.  I am one person and I have one question.  Why is it ok for you to procreate or not by using “family planning” but as an infertile am not?

In June, I participated in RESOLVE’s Advocacy Day.  On a day that was filled with health care reform rallies and protesters, a group of women and men sat one-on-one with their elected congressional representatives to discuss infertility.  We simply asked for them to help us receive equal health care rights.  Currently only 15 states require insurance coverage for fertility treatment and even then the laws vary.  And just from my personal experience I encountered legislative workers who were not only not interested in helping but openly so.  Yet our current president and congress plan on including taxpayer funded abortions in the pending Health Care Reform (to be fair, they plan on not excluding it).

So here we are back to family planning.  I don’t know about you but I’m more than a little upset about all of this.  I take offense to the fact that a disease that already makes me feel less human, less of a woman also makes me a target for eco-activists, well meaning albeit a little miss-guided.  I feel that I have to stand up and speak for this disease that affects so many.  Because infertility doesn’t just affect me or Husband.  It affects our parents who are not grandparents, our siblings who have no nieces or nephews and our peers who are unsure where their friendship lies in our relationship.  I just want a family and I don’t know what’s more of a basic human right than that.

Vacation from Sanity

“Well I’ll tell you something. This is no longer a vacation. It’s a quest. It’s a quest for fun. I’m gonna have fun and you’re gonna have fun. We’re all gonna have so much … fun we’ll need plastic surgery to remove our … smiles.”

- Clark W. Griswold in National Lampoon’s Vacation

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va⋅ca⋅tion

[vey-key-shuhn, vuh-]

–noun

1.	a period of suspension of work, study, or other activity, usually used for rest, recreation, or travel; recess or holiday: Schoolchildren are on vacation now.

2.	a part of the year, regularly set aside, when normal activities of law courts, legislatures, etc., are suspended.

3.	freedom or release from duty, business, or activity.

4.	an act or instance of vacating.

–verb (used without object)

5.	to take or have a vacation: to vacation in the Caribbean.

source

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Husband and I have not taken a vacation since before we left for basic training.  Just to clarify this, we have not taken a vacation in almost nine years.  Nine years.  We had no honeymoon because Husband had to go back to work three days after our wedding and then was deployed to Afghanistan two months later.  He was gone for a year.  I was deployed twice during my military career and Husband another two times.  Then Husband began his current profession as a Secret Squirrel.  Because of this he had to move away from me and into our current home in DC.  We were geographically separated for almost two years.

So for nine years serving our country, deployments, illness, surgeries, hospitalizations, protecting national security, the Appalachian Mountains, second jobs, fertility treatments and family obligations prevented us from vacations.  Oh and lets be clear, I do not count traveling to visit family as a vacation.  Because seriously, that is not a vacation.  And yes I do feel sorry for us and so should you.   But all that is about to end.

This December is our five year anniversary.  We are finally going on a vacation.  A honest to goodness vacation. With just the two of us. Our honeymoon anniversary-moon.  No family and minimal phone contact (well you can try but I doubt we’ll answer).  Just.  The.  Two.  Of.  Us.  And where are we going you ask?  Well we’re going to the happiest place on earth.  No, not Denmark.  We’re going to Disney World.  Yes, Disney World.  Because I want to that’s why.  Having grown up in and out of Europe, my family didn’t really do the Disney thing.  And more often than not our family vacations were more National Lampoon’s European Vacation and less Cheaper by the Dozen 2.

So our vacation is going to be insane.  And I am crazy excited.  No expense has been spared, no detail overlooked.  And yes I’m bragging because I am excited.  And really glad that we can finally afford to pay and take the time off for a vacation.  We are going for ten whole days of absolute child-like joy and fun.  And we’re staying in a super posh hotel, uber lush suite with room service.  And I am so going to be ordering room service.  I don’t care if I have to pay 14$ for a bottle of water.  We are ordering room service.

But I’m most excited about being able to just spend ten days in row with Husband.  We’ve been so busy with life that its almost as if we’ve put our life on hold.  But  no longer.  It will be ten days of food, fun, excitement, relaxation and Mickey, Minnie and the gang.  Because seriously, we’re such big kids anyways.  And I’m most excited about it being the Christmas season during our trip.  I’ve watched so many Travel Channel shows on Disney that I am practically an expert.  But my favorites have always been the Disney Christmas programs.  I cannot wait for all the extra special food, the decorations and everything else they do above and beyond special for Christmas.  I’m so completely giddy with excitement because Christmas is my favorite holiday.  I can’t believe how lucky I am to get to go on a luxury vacation and enjoy a Disney Christmas and then come home and enjoy an actual Christmas at home.

This vacation I think is a huge turning point in our lives.  It’s exciting because we’ve never been able to spend too much time with each other over the years.  Finally living together again helped initially with that issue but taking vacations allows us to become normal adults.  Luckily, this is the first of many adventures we will take together and our life together will finally be, well, be together.

So dear readers, here’s a question for you.  Tell me about the best time you’ve ever had with your significant other alone.  Was it a vacation?  Where did you go?  What made it memorable?  Share your story so the rest of us can live vicariously through your adventures!

Well Hello There

“I’m just preparing my impromptu remarks.”

-Winston Churchill

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Funny running into you here…oh wait this is my page isn’t it?  You’ve missed me, I’m sure.  But I’m back and alive.  I’ll spare you all the pancre-assinine details except it was hell and now its better, for now.  Anywho….

I’m back.  And I promise we’ll get back to the regular schedule programming but first a few housekeeping items.

1. I want to first thank Liz (@ The Wit Factory).  You truly are my best friend and I appreciate everything you did for Husband and me.  And thank you for letting all four of my readers know that I wasn’t dead and didn’t plan on being dead anyways.
2. Second.  Let me tell you, I have good friends/readers.  This wonderful stranger friend sent me a movie.  And not just any movie, one of the trashiest you-hate-to-admit-but-have-watched-way-too-much-too-be-considered-normal movie.  She sent me Cruel Intentions.  Awesome.  So thank you thank you Jendeis (@ SellCrazy Someplace Else).
3. I am feeling better.  Amen.  And hopefully this time my pancre-ass and liver will play nice and we can feel better for awhile.
4. Oh and guess what?  We are back to officially trying again.  Wish us luck.

Yeah so that’s about it for now.

I promise I’ll get back to regular writing because I know y’all missed me.  Hell, I missed me.

PS – I wanted to share one of my favorite pictures from our wedding.  We’re coming up on our five year anniversary and planning our DISNEY VACATION!  We’re going for our honeymoon anniversary.

Lemons Amok

Normally my [WitFactory] motto is:  “When life hands you lemons, be glad it didn’t hand you a pile of poop instead.”

However, our dear Amok has, in fact, been handed a pile of poop.  No worries.  She’s alive.  Not well, but alive.

Our darling Amok is currently hibernating in a DC area hospital and harboring the after-effects of her ERCP.  I received a call from her (or the drugged up version of her) explaining that the nausea/extreme pain/complications of her procedure has forced our beloved walking Book Of Fun Facts to be a bedridden Book Of Facts That Are More Fun When The Morphine Drip Kicks In.  Please say a prayer for her speedy recovery.

For those of you who would like to oblige her love for orchids, Edible Arrangements, trashy (albeit AWESOME) romance novels and/or Ferrero Rocher, please feel free to request more specific hospital information from me.  You may submit your request to ecarter@championhomes.net.  I’ll be happy to let her know you’re inquiring and forward her info to you upon her approval.  (Gotta be careful these days.  You serial killers, you.)

On a brighter note, Amok has been texting in between lapses of hand/eye coordination and has laughed at me a time or two: sure signs that she’ll be back to the Blogosphere in no time.  And until no time gets here, I’ll be updating you all on her status.  She, Secret Squirrel, her lovely family and I appreciate your sincere thoughts and concerns.  I know she always begins with a quote but I will let that remain an Amok trademark.  I, instead, will end with one.

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“I learned a long time ago that minor surgery is when they do the operation on someone else, not you.”

                                                                                                                                                           ~Bill Walton

That what does not kill me…well then again….

“In spite of illness, in spite even of the archenemy sorry, one can remain alive long past the usual date of disintegration if one is unafraid of change, insatiable in intellectual curiosity, interested in big things, and happy in small ways.”

-Anais Nin

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I know, I know.  I’ve been gone for awhile…and its not about to be over but I wanted to keep y’all up to date on the going ons around here.

So lets see… my new doctors here in DC decided that in order to proceed we needed to re-evaluate where I am pancreatic-ly (shut up, I’m taking some liberties here!).  So we did an Endoscopic Ultrasound (EUS) last week to find out if I’ve developed Chronic Pancreatitis.  The thinking was that I have had five (5!) ERCP’s.  Each time developing acute pancreatitis.  Each ERCP and each episode of acute pancreatitis put me at risk for developing CHRONIC pancreatitis.  I know it’s confusing. But on my MRI’s they had seen some pancreatic changes and were concerned.  So that’s fine, it was mild sedation and a nice nap.  But they didn’t find any significant changes.  This is good.

They found my common bile duct is almost completely occluded.  This is bad.  Very bad.  My pancreatic duct has been completely occluded for about four years now.  No one wanted to clear it out because they were unsure of where it came from.  And very afraid that messing with the occlusion could cause other things to go bad.  And luckily I have a secondary pancreatic duct that helps re-route things.  That’s why I’ve needed all these ERCP’s because my secondary duct is significantly smaller because well it was never meant to be the primary pancreatic duct.  That’s why its not called that, duh!  But any who, it will get sludged up and part of my illness causes my ducts to develop strictures (meaning they cramp down) so then things don’t flow great.  So ERCP is done to basically clear out the ducts and place stents to prop them back open.

Well, the problem is that the common bile duct is the big duct that everything flows through.  This cannot become occluded.  That would be very bad.  Very, very bad.  And this is very, very serious.  Because they have no idea why my ducts are doing this, how to keep it from happening and the concern is that with each ERCP my complications get worse and worse.  So right now, I’m scheduled for my next ERCP on Wednesday the 15th of July.

It was very bizarre after that EUS because the doctors were so alarmed about what they found they called my doctor while I was still under sedation.  So one of his staff doctors was waiting for me when I came out of anesthesia.  He told me what they found and that my Doctor would be calling me the next day to schedule a surgery date.  AND to make it even more nerve wrecking for me, when they called, they had already scheduled my surgery!  They didn’t even give me much chance to procrastinate.  I know it’s in my best interest to get this whole thing over but my anxiety has just shot through the roof!

And I’m driving Husband crazy because when I get anxious, I organize.  I organize and talk too much. I’m not looking forward to this at all.  I’m not looking forward to more IV’s, crazy pain and the pain medications needed to help control them.  I hate the blood draws.  I hate the succession of medical personnel who have to all come in and talk to me about my pain and press on my stomach.  As if my pain wasn’t bad enough, lets all smush my liver and pancreas down to make it worse.  First the medical student, then the intern, then the resident, then the fellow and finally my doctor.  And to be completely honest, I am really freaked out.  And poor Husband.  He is beyond freaked but as usual he pretends it is all fine.  I know he thinks he needs to be strong for me and that is why I love that man.  But he’s so good too me.  He’s been hinting that maybe I should buy some new audio-books, that way he doesn’t have to read to me!  I’m going to do that but it’s always so comforting to have him read to me anyways.

So we are just pressing on.  I’m packing my bag.  Gathering all my hospital clothes.  My tank tops, my comfortable pants, all my colorful socks so I can stay clothed, decent and out of those horrible hospital gowns.  Oh and my beautiful cardigans.  Those are important so I can stay me, stay comfortable and warm but hospital appropriate.  I’ve gone through my millions of movies and picked out the ones I’ve been meaning to watch and added them to my perennial favorites.  I’ve also added a few for Husband to watch because we all know that I really don’t watch anything because I’m so drugged.  And a couple for my mom who will be coming up from North Carolina on Tuesday.

I’ve also dealt with the unpleasant details of all of this.  I’ve updated my advance directives and living will.  Which is something everyone should have no matter their health status.  It really is the only way to ensure your wishes are carried out.  Luckily, my family and Husband all feel the same way about this.  Organ donation always.  And Husband and I both have included in our living wills that we do not want extraordinary measures taken.  Our medical backgrounds I think helped us with this decision.  We both have agreed that while it would be hard to say goodbye, prolonged life-support is only benefiting the family and I believe that when it’s my time, it’s my time.  Obviously, if there is a chance of a good outcome then this wouldn’t be the case.  Death is never easy to deal with but we both know and have come to terms with that my illness most likely will become terminal at one point.  Either from cancer or complications from a surgery.  But I think because of this we appreciate each other a little more.  We embrace the time we have.  I mean seriously, its entirely possible I could live another 50 years!  But if I don’t, I do not want to have any regrets.  I am daily grateful for having such a wonderful husband and family and know that my life is good.  I have to admit, it is a little humbling and more than a little hard thinking about these types of things at our age.  Very against nature.  But we have each other and hopefully one day, children.  And we can’t forget Amelia!  OK, I’m done being Debbie Downer.

But enough of the sad stuff.  Husband has the day off on Wednesday but has to go back to work the next day and has to go to Asia for secret squirrel duty later in the week.  He can call off work during the week but because of visa issues he cannot cancel the Asia trip.  Visa’s are a pain in the ass and require the paperwork completed months in advance, so no one else can fill in for him at this point.  Mom (mine) will be here to babysit me while Husband is at work.  She’ll be staying at my Aunt Joni’s and Husband will drop me off each morning before he goes to work, like a daycare for the incredibly grumpy, fussy and non-compliant.  Because Husband is very afraid to leave me home by myself.  Not so much because he is afraid I’ll keel over or anything but more for the simple fact that most likely I will need to go to the ER.  Normally, I get to go home after my procedure.  I’m not in terrible pain afterward, more than normal but they send me home with more pain meds, and I’m not feeling too terrible.  But around day two as my pancreatitis starts to kick in, I get MISERABLE.  I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I don’t want to eat, I can barely stand up, I’m normally beyond nauseous and even sometimes throwing up.  And so I end up back in the ER for my pain and then admitted because of my pancreatitis.  So husband was nervous about leaving me at home by myself just because he didn’t want me to be miserable at home, waiting for him to come home so I can go to the ER.  And also because I’m notorious for trying to avoid the ER like the plague.  I’m always the last one to admit that I need to go and normally am sulky the whole way there.  Its not that the ER isn’t a pleasant experience….well it’s actually not.  But I have horrible veins from years and years of procedures, so it takes multiple IV attempts, normally ending up in some sort of semi-permanent catheter placed like a PICC line or a central line.  Which are no fun at all.  Then the drugs.  All the drugs.  They are a neccessary evil.  And then the IV fluid.  And then because of all my medications, IV fluids, multiple IV sticks, I end up looking puffy, bruised and all around like I’ve been a round or two in the ring.

So, another surgery on Wednesday.  I probably won’t be blogging during that time, but I might.  But I probably will be on Twitter @RunAmokAmok.  Those who know and love me can text me.  And emails are always welcome, RunAmokAmok at gmail dot com.  I will have my computer with me and the hospital does have free wi-fi.  I will write y’all back but you’ll have to excuse the typos because let me tell you, talking is difficult on all those drugs, let alone typing.  Husband might log on for me to keep you up to date but most likely it will be Liz, my BFF who logs in to keep y’all up to date. (BTW, y’all should totally check out her kick ass blog, The Wit Factory.  She is just totally effing hilarious)

And while I’m in the hospital, flowers are always welcome!  I love all things purple.    And I love those fruit bouquets by Edible Arrangements, seriously, the more pineapple and strawberries and CHOCOLATE covered strawberries, the better!  I also like Sour Patch Kids.  The sourness helps with the nausea so it does a double duty.  And I love visitors!   And I’m sure Husband would love someone else to show up and read to me so he doesn’t have to read yet another Nora Roberts sex scene.  (Everytime he asks how we ladies can read these romance novels without getting…um….aroused all the time.  I tell him we do, its just easier for us to hide )  So if you’re so inclined and in the area, send me an email and we’ll let you know where I am.

But otherwise I will be busy trying not to throw up, watching movies in between my narcotic induced blackouts, complaining about my 15th IV stick, begging Husband to rub my feet/put lotion on my legs/and or help me please brush my teeth, wash my hair and look less like death warmed over.  Pleasant, no?  Well my dears…. seriously.  I could really use the distractions.  Email me.  Email me frequently.  Text me.  Text me frequently.  Twitter me!   Wish me luck.  Pray for me.  Pray for Husband to maintain his patience while dealing with me.  Because really, we all know I’m a complete pain in the ass on a good day.  He could totally use a break too so like I said, visitors bearing good food for him will never be turned away.

Love y’all.  It will be ok.

Write Left?

“I love talking about nothing.  It is the only thing I know anything about.”

-Oscar Wilde

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I’ve never really thought of myself as a really great writer.  I love books but that is a whole other post and trust me I’ll get there eventually.  And being a book lover, I also am fascinated with the authors.  Which is why I’m telling y’all about this.

So in this month’s Real Simple (seriously y’all, its organizational p*o*r*n) they announced The Second-Annual Life Lessons Contest.  And normally I’m not really into contests, contest entering and, in general, those who participate in them.  BUT….this is a really good one.

I think the best part of the internets is that I get to read some of the smartest women everyday!  I get to be your friend, your family, your sounding board and your shoulder to cry on.  I am privileged to some of your most intimate details.  Daily, I am humbled by your way with words and wish that one day you too might look forward to reading my daily comings and goings.

So here it is ladies (and the occasional gent)…tell us about when you first realized that you were a grown-up.  I think it would be so awesome if everyone entered the contest but I know that life sometimes get in the way of such grand things.  So even if you don’t enter the contest, I want to know your answers.  Write it about it in your blog!  At a minimum tell me in the comments!  Either way.  I’m thinking we could get some really great answers and even better stories!

So start typing people!

Animal Farm

“I like pigs.  Dogs look up to us.  Cats look down on us.  Pigs treat us as equals.”

-Winston Churchill

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It’s almost stereotypical in our house these days.  Along with the other childless, Husband and I have created our own family out of animals.  The joke is on us though because I swear our house has ostensibly become the living incarnation of Animal Farm.  Daily, it seems as if our animals act in congress and are constantly deliberating the state of the union and the pros and cons of continued human co-habitation in our home.  Quite honestly, I often feel that if our cats ever figured out how to open the canned cat food for themselves, then Husband and I would be handed an eviction notice, tout de suite (like, yesterday).

You know, I read somewhere recently (seriously people I can’t remember everything) that cats communicate mostly through body language and tail movements and meow, basically, only to feeble-minded humans (they don’t even bother with dogs).  Because they know from birth that humans ultimately are beneath them and have only been placed upon the earth just to serve them.  From the beginning, like that popular girl from high school, they only speak to you to talk down to you.

We have three such creatures in our home.  Three cats.  Each with their own personality, their own likes and dislikes and each is a dictator in their own right.  The brilliant Jean Cocteau (he wrote Beauty and the Beast) once said “I love cats because I enjoy my home; and little by little, they become its visible soul”.  Because seriously nothing better defines the madhouse we live in than these three oddball characters who run my home.  I think in order to fully understand our little moth poachers, I’m going to have to name some names.  And as a little background, so far, Husband and I have found character appropriate names for our furriest family members from the timelessness of Disney.  (I say furriest because Husband leans towards being pretty furry himself )

First comes Bagheera. She is as black as her character in The Jungle Book and just as temperamental.  True to character, she leads the pack with a thinly-veiled contempt and composed exasperation for the buffoons in her charge and has fine tuned her snobbery to an art form.  She is the Princess Grace of our home and can be normally found posed regally as if anything else is just too undignified for her to even fathom. She also is the brave adventurer of the group and she spends quite a significant amount of time observing our comings and goings.  No detail is missed by her steely gaze and often it feels as if our behavior is being catalogued a la Jane Goodall for some anthropological primate research study.  She is incredibly playful and has an affinity for playing in her water bowl but it would be incredibly undignified for her to be found doing such.  She waits until she thinks you’re not watching and then she plays in the water like a toddler in the bath.  All she needs are some Bagheera-sized boats and water toys to make the image complete.  But as long as she is being watched, she is the feline version of Audrey Hepburn, all elegance and grace.

Our middle child is Louis.  Or as he is officially known, King Louie, named also from a Jungle Book character, although he prefers the more formal name of Louis.  Louis is my accident child.  Husband and I were quite satisfied with our one kitten, when we got a the fateful call from the local ASPCA.  Let me tell you, they sure saw Husband coming when he started volunteering with them because they totally knew how to tug his sentimental heartstrings.  “Hello Mr. Amok, I know you said you weren’t interested in any other animals but we have this cat that will have to put to sleep unless someone adopts him by tonight.”  And that was how Louis joined our family.  From the beginning, we knew he was, well, special.  Most days he can be found sleeping in awkward positions, hanging from furniture and snoring little kitty snores.  Lately, he has taken to standing in the corner by our front door.  Faced into the corner, like a petulant child in time out or being punished by grumpy nuns at the catholic school.  I have absolutely no idea why, but he seems content enough.  Occasionally, one of the others will visit him there as if they too are trying to figure out the mystery of the corner but they don’t stay long as apparently only Louis possesses the proper corner intuition.  Just like his namesake, Louis, more often than not, is draped across and over the edge of our furniture.  He is the hang-e-est cat I’ve ever met and is not content unless his overweight body is perilously dangling over the side of something.

Kitty, is the newest addition to our home.  Kitty came to us from Miami by way of my sisters home in North Carolina.  Dee found Kitty while on spring break in Miami and could not leave this poor, defenseless kitten in the wilds of Miami.  So because of a combination of allergies, dorm policies and fate we ended up with this vicious Kitty.  Kitty was actually named because that was the only thing she came to but we kept it because there actually is a Disney character called Kitty.  In the movie Monsters, Inc., Sulley is surprised by a stowaway little girl who mistakes his excessive fur for that of a cat and calls him Kitty.  So Kitty stuck and became a part of our dysfunctional family.  Amelia is the bane of her existence and throws quite the kitty-fit and hisses anytime Amelia dares violate Kitty’s air space.

Those who know me, as well as those just becoming familiar, know though the true baby in our family is Amelia.  Amelia is a Weimaraner, a regal breed, bred for German royalty.  Amelia Wright is her name, Wright for where she was born in Dayton, Ohio – hometown of Orville and Wilbur Wright.  And apparently the cash register, which was invented in Dayton too, who knew so much famous came from this unassuming heartland city.  Anyways, most people know an Amelia, were related to an Amelia, they like/love/hate the name.  As a child I delighted in reading the adventures of Amelia Bedelia and her literal interpretations of her housekeeping duties (she made a sponge cake out of actual SPONGE!!).  I remember learning this whole other world of words, learning that what you say isn’t so important as how you say it.  You need to read the books but this is not where Amelia got her name.  Amelia’s name comes from the movie The Aristocats, which funnily enough is Amelia’s favorite movie and she actually will sit and watch this movie.  So in the movie, the cats on their journey meet two geese sisters, Amelia and Abigail Gabble.  These talkative sisters had that geese waddle that our little puppy had down to a science.  And Amelia joined our family and has been absolutely spoiled rotten ever since.

As I said earlier, cats apparently only meow to talk to humans and my Bagheera obviously has a lot to say because she talks quite a bit to me.  About the same time each day, she joins me and will tell me her thoughts.  If I have been gone for a few hours, I am normally greeted with a loud run down of what I missed while I was gone and how her day has been going so far.  She occasionally comes to me to loudly complain about something, normally some frustration around Amelia occupying her nap space, Louis pestering her or the substandard drinking water in her bowl.  And God forbid she gets locked in a room because then you’re in for a talking to.

I think its funny because she doesn’t really talk to Husband that much.  She does like him quite well as a warm sleeping space though and his continued approval for remaining in our home is contingent of supplying a warm, human sized sleeping area. So until the day we are handed our walking papers by the High Court of Cat, Husband and I continue to graciously live in our cat’s home.  Luckily they allow us to have pets, because it would be hard to find a new castle for Princess Amelia.

Moi?

“There is no one on the planet to compare with moi.”

-Miss Piggy

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When you start a blog you the biggest reason is because its the best way to talk about yourself in the great medium that could potentially reach MILLIONS.  So whats better than me talking about myself?  Someone else on their blog talking about me.

My best friend, Liz, has her own blog called The Wit Factory.

Liz is my best friend from high school and well…its like we’ve been best friends forever…

So read this fabulous post about moi, but stay to read her other posts.

Because she is beyond hilarious and my best friend.

Oh and because I said so….

Happy Birthday Baby

“Just so you know, there’s a space that only you can fill.  Just so you know, I loved you then, I guess I always will.”

-Anonymous

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Dear Husband,

I just wanted to begin your birthday with a little sentimentalism.  I love you but I wanted to know, how do you feel old man?  The simple fact is that today, on your birthday, you are now officially old.  As of today and for another one-hundred and twenty-nine days you will be the exact same age as me, therefore just as old as you have been telling me I am.  So ha, how does it feel to be so old?  You know you officially start dying at age 27, that is only three-hundred and sixty-five days from now.  So you’d better make them well worth it.

In all seriousness, Husband, I wanted to take this opportunity, this very public forum to tell you happy birthday.  Yet another year has gone by and you’ve grown older, wiser and better looking.  Another year standing by me and taking care of me and tolerating my fussiness. You truly are a great man and while I’m sure your parents are responsible for laying the foundation, you have pushed past all my expectations. You are my best friend and daily I am happy to see you walk through my door.  You are unbelievably brave, understandingly smart and not to mention quite a hottie!  You remain, my favorite person.

So old man, as my present to you, for today only, you can be right.

I lova you!!!!

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“Age is something that doesn’t matter, unless you are a cheese.”

-Billie Burke

Amok! Amok! Amok!

“As is the way with almost everything concerning in my life…jaw-dropping whimsy run amok.”

- Joseph Brooks

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You know I’ve more than once been asked where I got the idea for my blog title.  Because quite frankly “Run Amok Amok” is pretty random.  The correct phrasing is normally used as how something normal has become out of control, run amok.  And while that is also an appropriate interpretation of my name, because seriously what in my life isn’t out of control most days?   But that is not where my obsession with the actual phrase Run Amok Amok came from.

The phrase originates from one of my all-time favorite movies.  A movie that apparently only 18 people saw because I have only found one person who actually “got” my reference.  This movie was made in 1993 and starred three awesome and extremely talented actresses, Bette Midler, Sarah Jessica Parker and Kathy Najimy.  This movie is now relegated to the random family cable channels and only occasionally seen just around Halloween…. which is a shame because I really think its comedy genius.

So lady’s and gentlemen, without further ado, my inspiration:

Hocus Pocus, is totally hilarious.  And that part right at the end is Sarah Jessica Parker in my 2nd favorite role of hers (obviously the first being Carrie Bradshaw).  She perfectly plays a ditzy, brazen hussy, tart of a witch.  And the best line ever is her jumping up and down sing-songing “Run Amok, Amok, Amok, Amok …..”

I recommend you find and rent this movie.  Watch from beginning to end and try not to tell me its a great movie.  Total fluff but who cares… Fluff makes the world go ’round.

PS – You can actually watch the whole movie online thanks to the diligent illegal uploading of a wonderful youtube world.  The movie is cut up into 11 separate parts… but still well worth the watch!

Hocus Pocus – YouTube