My daughter and I spent the last 5 days up at our cabin. Since it was rainy on Sunday, after after Mass we had lunch at a bar & grille on Castle Rock Lake and then went hiking with our binoculars and cameras at the Necedah National Wildlife Refuge.

Although the guided tours to spy on some very special, rare creatures have been booked months in advance, we followed some less-traveled foot trails and ended up sighting a pair of huge, beautiful Whooping Cranes and were fortunate enough to also hear them calling. (They are the two white blobs in my bad picture)  I was moved to tears by the fortune of getting a glimpse of these endangered beauties in a wild setting. These birds are part of an eastern migratory flock - their incredible story story can be found here.



Besides the crane sightings, I had fabulous bird-watching opportunities at the cabin Monday morning, as most of the songbird babies born in the forest around the house have fledged - so we literally had each nest-ful of "teenage" (juvenile/immature) birds: 5 blue jays, 4 cardinals, 4 rose-breasted grossbeaks and 1 young downy woodpecker AT ONE TIME partaking of sunflower seed, suet and water I put out for them. Needless to say, it was quite a noisy scene; but surprisingly there were no bullies - everyone took their turn getting seeds. We also had 3 hummingbirds at my hummingbird feeder but I could not tell if they were mature or not. And the best treat was a pair - mature male & female - of Baltimore Orioles who seemed interested in the ripening plums on our plum tree.

Monday and Tuesday my daughter and I took horseback riding lessons! I realized after a few minutes that it is sort of like "riding a bike" - all I knew from my many lessons years before came back and I got "Rowdy" (a funny name, as he was so gentle and slow)  to do nice barrel turning and  to trot for me.

Here I am, "back in the saddle again!"

This morning, as I readied my daughter for camp, I noticed an unusual sight outside my window. I saw a Palatine police vehicle with "Truck Enforcement" driving slowly down my street and coming to a stop in front of my neighbor's house. What was most strange is: we don't live in Palatine!

Then I saw semi's, cube trucks...basically all manner of oversized vehicle coming to a halt in front of my house. Later, some state troopers arrived, lights flashing.

As I carefully pulled out of the driveway, I rolled down my window and asked the Smoky, "I live over here; what is going on?"

"Oh, just doing weight checks," he responded.

Click click WHIRRRRRR.

OK. I got it: all westbound truck traffic was being diverted from the 4-lane arterial expressway in front of our home to the frontage road (on which I live.) Why westbound only? Because about 1/2 mile west of my house is the on-ramp to an elevated state highway. Apparently this mobile weigh station was set up in response to the Minneapolis bridge disaster. Our governor issued immediate inspection of all IL bridges (according to the news.) However, there was nothing about mobile weigh stations mentioned in any news reports I heard.

So, now I am pondering if route 53 (the highway I mentioned) is truly safe for me to use if it is now the target of an emergency weigh-in.

I  had to hear RICHARD say it aloud before I understood. I thought it was pronounced "Bogercize", like BOGUS-exercize...faux workouts.

Its pretty damn ridiculous no matter how you pronounce it.

As I was walking solemnly in line to receive communion, the young woman in front of me had on a black t-shirt with the following imprinted on the back (so I could read it):

                                                                - Sex & The City

So, does the Blood of Christ count as "the cocktail I drink?"

A few months ago, a friend from church lent me a new yoga video. I tried it out but immediately was distracted by the incessant breaks for verbal instruction and philosophizing between poses. Instead of trying to coodinate my breaths and hold each pose, I just sat back and listened.

Then I went to the video instructor's website and found some insights that pertained to issues in my life.

When I returned the video to my friend the following week, he looked dejected.

"Oh, you didn't like it?" he asked.

"No, I'll explain later," I replied. I wrote him a note and explained that the value I found in the video wasn't the workout but the ideas that the instructor, Brian Kest, espoused.

I was thinking about this chain of events the other day.

Again, I was writing to my church/yoga/pop culture compadre, discussing my initial concern over some weight creep. But then I realigned my mindset:

"...I have a freaky weird body type. Believe it or not, I used to be a triathlete (completed 4 in 2003 and 2004 ) I thought about doing it again but I don't enjoy anything but the open-water swim. I am not a fan of bike riding or running, really.

But its all about perspective. I did a hard treadmill intervals workout on Wednesday afternoon. I was so sore that, on Thursday, instead of my usual strength training/challenging yoga class, I opted for the concurrent "gentle yoga" class with a different teacher. It was just what I needed to work out the strained muscles.

After class, the senior ladies in there were half complaining, half admiring aloud about me, "She is soooooo flexible!" I reminded them that it isn't a competition (a Brian Kest-ism!)

I felt pretty good about that all day, though!"

I am finally feeling better now that my couse of antibiotics (Xifaxan) is almost done. I am also getting back into my pilates reformer training at least once a week to prevent injuries to my back and knee when doing cardio (a vicious cycle.)

Despite a recent chain of frustrating foibles with my body, this week I am feeling quite confident. I am looking forward to boogie boarding and possibly surfing** in a few weeks when I head to the Jersey Shore for 10 days. I am not remotely intimidated by the idea of wearing a bathing suit.

**sidebar: my sister and surfing partner is pregnant again so unless my hubby is willing to try surfing again (I don't feel its safe to surf alone, especialy as often as I wipe out!), I may skip it and opt for the boogie board, which is plety 'o fun in my book, anyway!

As another DelCo summer commenced in 1986, I received a phone call from the younger brother of my friend, Amy. Amy was one year ahead of me in school; she had graduated and was headed to Oberlin in the fall. Prior to college, she went with her parents to...Brazil, I recall, for a family vacation. She spoke fluent Portuguese, as she even spent a year abroad as an exchange student. My mother did not like her because she was "wild", which in retrospect is laughable, as her main vice was occasional use of the F-word.

Her little brother was one year behind me in school and was kind enough to accompany me to my Junior Prom when I couldn't get a date. His name was Steve, and all I really knew about  the quiet, recessive-gened brother (blonde) of my spirited, olive-skinned gal pal was that he played the drums and was musically devoted to The Police.

He was very sweet at the prom, renting a tux at his own expense, and getting me a corsage. He invited me to join a group of his prom-going friends to dinner at a local Houlihan's restaurant. Somehow I managed to enjoy a meal of chicken tenders in elbow-length white gloves!  In all honesty, that was one of the more refined dating experiences I ever had - he was truly kind, respectful, and considerate...yet did not try to bust any moves, which disappointed my teen ego.

I hadn't heard from him after prom. Despite having a pleasant time, there was never any dating potential between us.

Thus, his phone call that warm Saturday morning was quite a surprise. He asked if I wanted to go to the mall, or similarly contrived date idea...ok, why not; I had nothing else to do, as my best friend was out of the country.

The moment I hung up the phone after his call, I failed to connect the dots of the situation. His family was out of the country and he was here, with a car, a license to drive and an empty house because...I think he had a job or band camp or similar obligation that precluded international travel. The bottom line was: I didn't see it coming.

We ended up at his house, engaged in tepid conversation. Finally he sighs, goes to his room, returns with a pile of porno mags and plops them down on the floor, saying nothing but offering a pleading yet serious glint in his eye. I grinned. And then I played stupid. I began to critique the various airbrushed body parts on the pages before me, much to his frustration.

Finally I asked matter-of-factly, "Steve, did you want to make out?"

Somehow, despite what should have been an awkward start, we had alot of fun and  discovered an excellent kissing chemistry between us.

Back then, I recall being very cautious about rounding the bases with a boy, as you never knew if a guy would blab and embellish to the locker room, thus thrusting you into the vicious teen rumor mill that is high school.

But in 1986 there was no email or MySpace or text messaging or cell phones; there was no private means of communication for teens to broadcast their exploits or trash one another out of earshot of wary parents. And, as it was summetime, there was no locker room for trash talking.

So we "fooled around" on a few occassions, no pretense of dating, no drugs or booze to get in the mood. Just very natural, fun kissing and touching - always protected from going too far by our respective pairs of white cotton underpants. My parents started to question what Steve and I were doing on our "dates."  I had no movie plots or concert playlists to feed back to their inquiries. Instead of making excuses to them, I just cut off the action. After two turned-down "dates" he got the hint and never called again. He never even said anything to me in school - until nearing the end of my Senior year when he surpised me by suggestively shoving me up against some lockers in a quiet hallway after school. At that point, I knew he was not looking for kissing and cuddling. I could see it in his eyes. He wanted something more, but I was preoccupied with college preparation and a lackluster relationship with a boyfriend/classmate.

After listening to the hits of the 80's on XM radio in my rockin' van, I was thinking about those balmy weeks over 20 years ago. I still find it incredible that despite the circumstances, he never pushed the envelope in terms of what we did; and I am grateful for that to this day. It is a secret I have kept (until now.)

I feel both great and terrible at once. Allow me to clarify...

Since the spring, I have been on an anti-androgen (suppresses testosterone, and thus shuts off sebaceaous glands) as a last-ditch effort to stop an endless and painful cycle of hormonally-driven cystic acne. And...hey! It worked! For the first time ever I found a solution to the very painful and yechhy-looking breakouts I'd have each month. These days, I leave the house with just sunscreen/moisturizer, lipstick, maybe a touch of powder. My hair and nails are also quite healthy-looking. And...my boobs are bigger, too! As are my ass, thighs...

Yeah, I've gone up something like 7 lbs despite healthful eating and 5 days per week of cardio, strength training, yoga and pilates.

Now, the breast augmentation is a noted side effect of the drug. However, weight gain is not. While I am taking this medication, I have also been sidelined in my battle with IBS-C (see 3 posts below). Maybe its possible that my slowed "transit" time/chronic constipation could effect a slowdown in my metabolism? I am currently on an "experimental" 10-day course of antibiotics that have proven to exhibit their noted side effect - lots of GAS - but none of the possible benefit.

The thing is, in my eyes, I don't mind being up 1/2 a size as the clothes that do fit look pretty good to me. Although it sure ain't sexy to be around a woman who, curvy or not, sounds like a living Whoopee Cushion!

__________________
Post Script: I went to the store to buy some new bras - the old ones definately weren't fitting. I'm up to a 38C from a 38 almost-b - which means that , at least it is actual breast tissue getting bigger, not me getting fat all over (If I was merely gaining weight the band size would have gone up to 40 or above)  In fact, I am now between a 36 and a 38 so... I'll take the good with the bad I guess. Its just a "morphing" I suppose into an overall new body shape.

Family searches feces of cash-eating dog

MENOMONIE, Wis. - Debbie Hulleman's pet dog Pepper likes to chew things. She's gnawed on lipstick canisters, shampoo bottles, ball point pens, toothpaste and now the list includes nearly $750 in cash — gobbled right down. "This is probably the worst," Hulleman said Thursday, recalling the nasty chore of recovering the money from vomit and — you guessed it — dog piles left in the yard.

"We all laughed about it. As long as we were able to recover the money, it was funny. If I wouldn't have been able to recover it, I wouldn't have been happy," the pet owner said.

While weeding around the patio, I discovered that my raspberry bushes are due to be harvested! Outside I go with my bowl for some berry-pickin'...

Warning: If you hate reading about anything remotely bodily, or more specifically, scatalogical, then stop reading now. If, however, you are fascinated by the quixotic goings-on of my lower GI tract then you're sure to have no problem digesting (*ahem*) the following anecdote.

Have I mentioned here that I have "IBS-C" also know as chronic idiopathic constipation? I think I have talked about my obsession with the infrequency of healthy bowel movements in my life but if not, well...now you know. I had been a joyously happy patient on Zelnorm since its introduction on the market (barring the time on 2005 when I was pregnant) and was shocked and saddened...no, actually more like DEVASTATED, that it was abruptly pulled from the US market by its manufacturer on March 30 this year. I learned of its demise when I went to get my umpteenth refill of the only drug I have ever taken that eased the pain, bloating and other effects of chronic constipation without the socially-worrisome side-effects of unpredicatability and "sloppiness" - i.e. - sudden cramping and uncontrollable liquid spewing from my bum vis-a-vis laxatives, stool softeners and other preparations. Extra fiber makes things WORSE. My issue is low-to-no motility, so all fiber does is make the poop BIGGER and softer,but it still goes nowhere except into my colon where it ferments and causes extraordinary pain on my left side.

[Sidebar: Prior to taking Zelnorm, I have actually seen this phenomenon of a plenty-of-poo-traffic jam "televised" live on ultrasound. The ultrasound technician was aghast. She said, "I do this every day. Honestly, I have never seen someone with so much poop inside them!"]

I will not engage in the frustrating discussion of why the medication was pulled from the market; all I care about is the fact that I am not remotely at risk for the issues that Novartis is concerned about, and I was so darn HAPPY with those lil' white pills that did nothing but make me feel normal and comfortable. I have since tried other Rx's such as Amitiza, but the side effects were so bad I had to quit after 4 days because I couldn't do anything but lie in bed after taking them.

Anyone who knows me can verify that I am anal retentive (pun wholly intended) about issues of safety and lawfulness. But after being admitted to the ER last week because of sudden and raging abdominal pain - only to be told its "just your IBS acting up" - well, I had to find a solution. Meaning, I had to find an illicit source of my cherished medication (for which I still have a valid prescription with 5 refills).

Through an IBS discussion board (yeah, you can bet we are a FUN crowd!) I found a source in MEXICO. I ordered and sure enough the stuff arrived, exactly the same as what I used to take (same manufacturer, non-expired, except the patient info was in Spanish). It has been working BEAUTIFULLY. But (or shoudl I say, "butt?") it was more than double what I used to pay for my Rx. Hubby balked at the high price of regularity. And I quaked a bit when I had go to my local post office to sign for the weirdly packaged item tied in STRING, from Mexico. I swore DEA agents were going to swarm down on me and throw me in the slammer for my desperate attempt to have a healthy poop!

Luckily I escaped the post office without incident. I still have a handful of pills left and in desperation, this time with a cost factor added to the mix, I ordered from some South Pacific island outfit that ships non-controlled substances to the US and UK at low low discount prices. The hang-up is that they sell GENERICS manufactured in INDIA. For the price, I thought I'd try anyway. What have I got to lose, but a few pounds of poop, right?

I had an appointment with my GI doc the other day and admitted to him my scheming to obtain my beloved Zelnorm from around the globe. He told me, "I won't bust you. And anyway, you have a legitimate prescription from me. My only concern is that you'd be getting sugar pills and thus would be getting ripped-off. But if they work, then do what you think you need to do."

He also reassured me that he heard that my darling drug should be back on the US market within a year but with many restrictions. Until then he gave me some new Rx's to try - but one - an antibiotic that works solely in the gut - lists "sudden excessive  flatulence" as a side effect! Yeah, I'm going to PAY for a pill that makes me FART more than I already do! I'll take my chances with the black market stuff. Or maybe I should call it the "brown market???"