Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Dog Gone Darling

Sometimes life naturally just makes you stop, if even for only a moment, to appreciate the small things. You may not even realize that it's happening, but it is. Think about times when you've been so sticky, drippy and unbearably hot that you literally feel like you are melting into the ground and then suddenly a breeze comes a long and cools you off. Or when you thought that it was only 3pm and you look at your clock and it's actually 4:30pm and you get to leave the office and go home in an a half hour. And what about finding that $20 in your winter coat? That is all it. That is life making you stop for a second and appreciate the small things.

I had one of those moments recently when my Step-Mom's sister came to visit from Washington State and brought her Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. There are no words that will really, truly describe how cute this dog is, so I will just show you. Please be cautioned however that this much adorableness at one time may cause severe happiness, difficulty looking away from your computer screen, inability to care about what you were just doing, the desire to run out to the closest dog shelter and rescue a puppy and frequent urges to start talking in your designated "dog" voice. (C'mon...you know you have one. Everyone does. Put simply: it is the way you speak to dogs when you don't think people are listening. It's okay.)

And now, without further ado, may I present to you, hailing from Seattle, Washington - Molly the Puppy:











Have a good day everybody and remember to enjoy the little things!

Monday, June 29, 2009

If Phones Could Talk

This past weekend, my dear sister Caitlin was in Los Angles visiting one of her closest friends - lucky little devil - and it proved to be quite an interesting weekend to be there, as I am sure you can imagine. With the passing of Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett, craziness overtook Hollywood and my sister, always one to be a part of the action, made her way to Michael Jackson's star on the walk of fame.


She also went to famous beaches and saw many of the sights that Los Angeles is famous for, but it was her encounter at the Chateau Marmont that got me thinking.

Having lived in Southern California for three years, I can attest to the fact that there really are famous people walking around all over the place. While I was not very fond of the L.A. area and found it to be one of the strangest places that I have ever known, I will admit that I LOVED the celebrity watching.

Hello. My name is Jocelyn and I'm a celebrity-a-holic.

I really am. It is not something I am particularly proud of, but there is just something that I love about seeing famous people. And, lucky for me, I seem to have a knack for spotting them. Some of my favorite celeb sightings: Ben Affleck, Jennifer Aniston, Ricky Martin, Joan Cusack, Justin Timberlake and Rosie O'Donnell, but this list does go on and on. There is, however, one realm of celebrity that I seem to totally have passed over - The Political Celebrity. Oh yes - they are in a class of their own really, for the political celebrity comes with it's own brand of notoriety. It is a fame based on service, or in some cases, circumstance and often has a hint of nobility attached to it. The Political Celebrity is not something I have encountered, except for once on an airplane and Oregon Senator Ron Wyden was sitting in the row next to me, but that is about it.


Alright - back to my sister and the Chateau Marmont...sorry I tend to digress. I am a verbose little son-of-a-gun! Due to circumstances that fall into the, "it's all about who you know" category, my little sister found herself dining at the Chateau Marmont which is probably one of the swankiest hotels in the USA. It is also a celebrity haven. A celebrity haven with a rule that pictures cannot be taken. Oh man - with a rule like that, you KNOW the celebrity watching is gonna be gooood.


So, Caitlin and her friends decided to use the rest room at the Chateau Marmont and they found themselves waiting in line behind a gaggle of slightly tipsy young women. Within a few seconds, my sister made the realization that two of the women in front of them were none other than Barbara and Jenna Bush, more commonly known as "The Bush Twins." My sister, who also loves a good celebrity sighting, started to get excited and tried to, in a subtle way, mouth to her other friends, "It's...the...BUSH...twins." One by one all of the girl's made the realization and so began the dance that I like to call, "Watch-everything-the-just-spotted-celebrity-is-doing-but-pretend-that-it-is-like-so-not-a-big-deal."

As my sister was retelling me this story, it was obvious that she danced the dance very well because she was telling me every little detail about how they looked (nice) , how they were acting (tipsy) and everything they did (uhhhh...went to the bathroom, washed their hands...I mean, the usual). But there was one thing that struck me as interesting and that was her telling me that as Barbara Bush (brown hair) was standing there waiting for her friends/sister, she was going through her phone. Her phone. The phone of a girl who's Father and Grandfather were both Presidents of the United States. The phone of a girl who lived in the White House. The phone of a girl who has access to some of the top officials in the entire nation. Just IMAGINE the numbers in that phone. It has got to be a pretty distinguished list of digits. Wouldn't you just love to have a little glance through it? A quick peeky-peek? I started thinking about what other celeb's phones I would love to have access to. Here is the list I came up with:

- Barack Obama - His phone list must be fascinating beyond fascinating.

- Oprah - Don't laugh. Okay, you can laugh, but I love Oprah and I always will. And she knows everyone, so I could celeb watch all day long.

- Jesus - Okay, so I know he didn't have a phone, but it would be interesting to know who he was chatting up back in the day.

- Cher - It would be a whole mish-mosh of madness I bet.

- Maya Angelou - I bet her phone is filled with some of the great visionaries of our day.

- Rania Al Abdullah (Queen of Jordan) - The numbers in her phone must be all over the board from this Queen who hails from one of the more moderate of the Middle Eastern countries.

- Leonardo DiCaprio - Actually, screw his phone list and just gimme his number. (Kidding baby - I still love you the mostest teeheehee)

I guess what I am getting at is that it is interesting to think about who is connected to who and how this world really isn't as big as it sometimes seems. Oh yeah, and world peace. And...and...and...THE CHILDREN! Don't forget the children! And hunger. We need to solve world hunger. And...oh, who am I kidding. This post was about as worthwhile as Spencer and Heidi Pratt. Don't know who they are? Then count your blessings. Otherwise just know that I apologize for the randomness of this entire post.

Sometimes I know not what I do. Cheers to you all :)

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Thursday, June 25, 2009

6 Year Old Me

As a young girl, there was absolutely no such thing as too many sparkles or too much pink. The more pink and the more sparkle the better. And, in a perfect world? PINK SPARKLES! Ahhh - divine. 

I have a distinct memory of being at TJ Maxx with my Mom when I was about 6 or 7. She was at the check-out counter and I was standing by her side when I saw one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. Like a moth to a flame, I made my way through a few racks to a shimmery, fantastical, sequined pink blouse. It was amazing. Not a centimeter of this blouse wasn't covered in pink sequins. And they were not normal sequins - oh no - they were HUGE. Each sequin was probably about an inch in diameter and the entire frock glistened and spoke to my Barbie loving, My Little Pony worshipping, JEM idolizing, ruby slipper adoring 6 year old self. Think Vegas. Think Joan Collins. Think Liza Minelli on steroids. In a trance, I just stood there and ran my little hand up and down the sequins. 

"When I am old, this is what I want to wear," I remember thinking. 

Moments later, my Mom came over and led me out of the store, but I have always remembered that pink sequined shirt. It was the yin to my yang, the salt to my pepper, the Abbott to my Costello - it was...perfection. 

I have been recently reminded of this memory as I have been going through the process of trying on wedding dresses for my April nuptials. As I tried on dress after dress I had a very strict policy of no beading and no sequins. Not even a little bit. I wanted a simple, clean and classy dress and would stand the test of time. This proved to not be as easy a task as I had hoped, but alas, last night, I ordered myself the PERFECT dress. I am so in love with it and I cannot wait until the day that I get to wear it. It is JUST what I wanted, and as much as I want to post it, my darling fiance, Dan, reads this blog and, well - we just can't have the groomy seeing the dress before the big day! But, I found it interesting that, as a girl who would do anything to incorporate as many sequins as possible into my young life, how/when did I become so anti-adornment? The dress I picked would NEVER have made the cut from my 6 year old perspective. This got me thinking: if the 6 year old me were picking out my wedding dress, what would I have picked?



This dress would have made me swoon. Puffy, beaded, sequined and princess. 6 year old me would have definitely approved. 



Oh man. OH MAN. This one would have ROCKED my adolescent world. 6 year old me would have wanted this one in every color. 



6 year old me just died of happiness with this number. 



This. Would. Have. Been. THE. ONE. 6 year old me would have taken one look at this nauseating gown and said yes, yes, YES! It would have filled all of my hopes, dreams and aspirations of life as a "big girl." It would have been, in one word, superb. 

LUCKILY, my taste has changed. The scary thing is that these are all wedding gowns actually for sale out there, but to each his own I suppose. What I have picked out for myself is now me and I cannot wait for Dan to see me wearing it. As the months go by and the immigration process comes closer and closer to presenting us with the visa, I get more and more excited to marry Dan - pretty dress and all. With love like the kind that I have found, something tells me that 6 year old me would approve, regardless of the dress :)

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

J+K+8

Two days have passed since Jon and Kate Gosselin announced their pending divorce and for some reason, I just cannot stop thinking about it. I know that their existence has been whittled down to ethically devoid tabloid papers and that many who never heard of Jon & Kate plus 8 prior to the recent explosion of news coverage think that they are lame, horrible, dumb, etc., etc. - but I just cannot seem to stop analyzing the situation. The tale of Jon and Kate has taken a drastic turn in the last 3 years, and severely in the last 3 months, and I think what I find so fascinating is how much their lives and experience, in conjunction with the media storm, reflects so many values, issues and truths about our culture and reality in today's world.

I am one of the people who has watched the show from the very beginning. I have seen every episode and I get annoyed when people who never watched a single episode prior to the media frenzy criticize everything about the family. Over the years I have watched a loving family go through the day to day adventures of life with 8 children. Sure, maybe it was not all 100% real or the show paid for many of the families outings, but who cares? Anyone who thinks that there is no staging whatsoever in reality television shows is just silly. But what this show had was something different. It had a heart. The children were real and ridiculously adorable and the bickering between Jon and Kate seemed like a real marriage. This was a charming and lovable show that not a lot of people watched, which is part of why I loved it. Over the years I came to care about this family, as did many Americans. Then, as if overnight, the Gosselin shit hit the tabloid fan.

Suddenly, all these rumors started to swirl. I refused to believe them. Jon cheating? No way - no how! He is a sweet man and an excellent Father. And Kate cheating? Didn't believe that either. Sure, she can be bossy and high-stress, but she has 8 kids. I wasn't believing a word of it. Yet, as time went by it became more and more clear that something was not quite right. Reluctantly and with a saddened heart, I accepted the reality of Jon and Kate.

As I sit here today, I am so sad for those kids and for Jon and Kate, but I am also surprised at how wrapped up in all this I became. Why do I feel as though I know these people? I found myself wanting to say to them all, don't worry - you WILL get through this and it will be okay. While I think that the tabloids caught a lot of people's attention, mine included, I also know that I was a fan of this family for a long time. I was routing for them and wanted to see them all succeed.

Now with a divorce at hand, I am even more emotionally involved than I ever was. I can only attribute this to being a child of divorce myself. They are all at the beginning of a long process and a bumpy, emotional and terrifying ride. It is confusing and crappy and a downright pain in the ass - and that is just from the perspective of the child. Imagine what the parents who decide to put their beloved children through this are going through? It has amazed me that everyone has been so quick to judge this family. What does that say about our culture? Where is the compassion? Should they continue the show? Probably not. Did they bring some of this on themselves? Definitely. Are they horrible people for trying to come up with a way to support their children? Not at all.

Perhaps, in the end, this has turned out to be one of the most real reality shows. Like it or not, divorce is a HUGE part of life for many, many families. I have seen many people writing things that suggest they should stay together for the kids which I do not agree with. Living in a house with parents fighting all of the time is no picnic and nobody will convince me otherwise that that is better for the kids. Seeing their parents happy will serve them much more in their formative years, believe me. Whether they continue to go forward with the show or not is obviously up to them, but I hope that whatever happens is in the best interest of those darling children and that people back off the Gosselin's. They are not the first couple to get a divorce and certainly not the last. I challenge any new found critic to watch some old episodes and what you will find are two people with 8 kids who they love deeply and are trying to raise as best they can. Perhaps it is those slaving to and thriving upon all the negativity of the situation who should really take a look at themselves.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Class of 2009

I cannot believe that I am about to write this post. No, there is nothing bad about it (I'm a nice girl) and nothing naughty about it (get your mind out of the gutter, people) but rather something that simply just blows my mind! My little brother, who is, for the record, 9 years younger than me, just graduated from high school. N-i-n-e years younger. From high school. Can somebody please tell me how this happened?

At the risk of sounding like the kid's parent, I remember the day he came home from the hospital like it was yesterday. It was a blustery and snowy day and I clearly remember how nervous my parents were navigating the slippery streets with their newborn infant in the back seat. I am sure that in addition to the less than desirable driving conditions, they had a million other things going through their minds as well. They now had three children - two girls and a boy, and it had been 7 years since there had been a newborn infant in their care. My sister and I, however, felt as though Christmas came early that year.

For years I had been begging my parents for, "a brother for Christmas," but was always told, kindly, that that probably wasn't going to happen.

Ha ha ha, ho ho ho - Parents - what do they know?

It was a surprise to the entire family that day in 1990 when we all found that indeed, we would all be getting a little baby boy addition for Christmas. From the second he was in the house, I assumed the role of Mommy's Helper and loved being able to help with my baby brother. At the ripe age of nine I quickly picked up how to change diapers (or, nappies for you English folk), how to burp him, how to give him a bath and many of the other little delights that come with a baby in the house. I loved every second of it and those skills have stuck with me to this day. Thanks to my brother, I have always been comfortable being around babies, dealing with crying babies and calmly cleaning up after babies - despite how disgusting that can get. It has been a joy and an honor and I will take care of him always and, what's that? Huh? College? Turning 19 soon? Wait a minute, this must be a joke - certainly my baby brother isn't about to graduate from high school. He couldn't possibly be ready to venture out into the world - alone and afraid. Could he?

Here is when I wake up and come out of my denial-ridden and skewed sense of reality. My brother done gone and growed up, and while it is hard, I couldn't be more excited for him. Really. I swear. This was brought to the forefront as my family and I got to watch him graduate this past weekend.


There is the family, waiting for all of the excited graduates to take their seats.


See the seats? Aren't they a pretty purple? That is one of the school's colors, along with gold and white. Moments after this photo was taken, hundreds of eager and bright pupils took their places. Oh, I just love life's rights of passage, don't you?


There they all are! That is my brother, in the center, smiling at me. What a sight! Isn't he cute dressed up in his cap and gown? I say, a Stott has never looked so good in purple.

After a loooooonnnngggg time waiting for all of the speeches to finish, the time had arrived to walk across the stage and graduate.


It is slightly difficult to pick my bro out of this pic, but I know where he is and that is all that counts. What also counts is that my picture of him actually graduating is in video form and the file is apparently too large to post - so, I will just tell you that hearing his name on the loud speaker was a great moment as he received his diploma and became an official high school graduate. Congrats little bro - I am so happy for you!

After the ceremony and many minutes trying to locate each other through the sea of purple gowns, there was nothing but congratulatory love abound.



Congratulatory.

Love.

Abound. (nice eyes Dad)



FYI - the gentleman in the blue shirt is my cousin and until recently he was living at my Dad's and going to school. He and my brother developed quite the brotherly relationship and I love this picture because it pretty much sums up the two of them quite nicely. As does this one:

They are really just weirdos, but I digress.

The night after the graduation, we all went out the dinner at a really lovely restaurant in Portland called The Chart House which serves traditional NW fare including a lot of seafood and steak. Yummy. As we sat down and were handed our menus, we all noticed a little somethin' somethin'. See if you can spot it?

See it? Up at the top? They had actually printed special menus that night with a little message to my brother. I was tickled by that and I hoped he felt as special as I would have if my name was on the top of the menu.

As is tradition with all of our graduation dinners, my Dad, who keeps EVERYTHING, pulls out a little collection from our childhood and talks about each item. I always love when he does this because a) it is cute and b) it confirms my belief that my Dad cannot get rid of anything.

Here he is holding his Teddy Bear that he was given as a baby. That little bear brings back a lot of memories of my little baby brother in his little crib with his bear. Awwwwww...

Here is one of his many, many Army hats. Anyone who knows my brother knows that the kid has always enjoyed anything having to do with the military and he used to wear this hat quite often as he fought the enemies in the backyard (or, again for you Brits, in the garden.)

This picture might not look like much, but here is when it was discovered that my Dad had found an old journal my brother wrote when he was about 7. Let's just say that adorable does not even begin to describe what my brother felt was important to write about at that age, like airplanes.

It wasn't all jokey jokey as he was given some gifts as well. Here is a huge picture of him playing Lacrosse. Liiitttllleee ggguuuyy! Yes, I try to emasculate my brother whenever possible. Then he does mean things to me like this:

I was just trying to tell him that I love him. Sheesh.

But he emasculates himself as well when he makes faces like this. When will he ever learn? Mess with your sisters, and pictures like this end up for all to see:

Oh my brother. My brother, my brother, my brother. I have nothing but love for this kid. Like, serious I-would-die-for-him-in-a-second love. He has been an absolute joy and I know that the next four years for him will be amazing. He has chosen to attend University of Oregon, quack quack, and I cannot wait to go and visit him. Surely, he will not be quite as excited as I will be, but do I care? NO! Best of luck my brother! We are always here standing by you all the way. Thank you for making these last 18 years all the more interesting and enjoyable. I can't wait to see where life takes you next.


What a cutie-pie.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

England: Part III




The final main event of my delightful trip was the wedding of two of Dan's very close friends, Matt and Louise. Matt has been one of Dan's best friends (or "mates" as they say) since they were just wee little lads and is going to be a best man in our wedding. I felt really honored to be there and the whole experience gave me a chance to spend some more time Dan's friends, which is priceless to me.



It took place in the countryside in SE England in Essex at a place called Layer Marney Tower (above), and it was beautiful...and old. Not American old - England old, dating back to about the 1500's.



View of the garden from the gatehouse. You can't see it, but there is a pool down there.


It is an amazing property with a HUGE HUGE HUGE house (ahem - Tudor Palace or Gatehouse, as it is technically called) that King Henry VIII  and Queen Elizabeth I once stayed in!!! I was dying with every ounce of my body to sneak into the living quarters area of this house and see what a 500 year old house looks like, but unfortunately, that was not really in the cards. Partly because...well, it would be breaking and entering, but also because there is a family that is responsible for the care of the entire property and they actually get to live in the house. I died a thousand deaths when I heard this and then after I came back to life, entertained myself for hours with thoughts of what their life is like within those 500 year old brick walls that used to entertain royalty and the like. Oh, if walls could talk!



In addition to the ridiculous mansion, there was also a church, which is where the wedding ceremony took place and was one of my favorite parts of the entire event. The church looked like it was pulled straight out of the film Four Weddings and a Funeral. It too dated back to the 1500's and was full of interesting things to look at complete with plenty of dates for me to ooohhh and ahhhh.

Cemetery outside the church. Oh how I do love an old cemetery. I can't help but to wonder about who each person was and how they died - especially when you can no longer read the tombstones. 


Because Dan was the best man, we arrived the day before the wedding to provide any needed assistance. This of course gave me plenty of time to poke around (aka - totally geek out) the church and read all the little historical signs and pamphlets. I'm telling you, there is something about England that makes me obsessed with the history. I...cannot...get...enough.


Tomb in the back of the church. I cannot remember who this guy was, but I am guessing he was important. 


This trunk dates back to medieval times and was really huge, although you cannot really tell from the picture. I honestly love that this stuff is just hanging around everywhere. 



Alright - enough about the buildings...oh la la - it's wedding time. Here you can see Dan thoroughly steeped in his Best Man duties as he watches people arrive. I quite liked getting to see him in a bow tie! Men do look good in suits, don't they?

Here is the bride (and the groom, although hidden) exiting the church, betrothed and all. Because of where I was sitting, I could not get a good picture to same my life, but oh well. It was a beautiful ceremony and I learned a few things as well. First of all, we stood the entire ceremony, which I have never seen before - new and interesting. Secondly, there were quite a few hymns sung in a way that I have never experienced and everyone seemed to know the words. They were very beautiful and again, something new. Thirdly, and my most favoritest, is that woman at English weddings go all out. And by all out I mean, hats, hats and more hats. 



Just look at those puppies! It was one of the greatest things I have ever seen and I cannot understand why this hat tradition has not taken off here in America! I took LOADS of pictures of all the fancy head-wear, but I will refrain from elaborating at this time. All I can say is, they were really amazing hats and about 70% of the women had one on. Loved it. 

After the ceremony we all made our way into this great hall where the reception was set up. Shortly after we all dined on venison (a first for me), potatoes, root vegetables and lots of wine. It was delicious and everything was so formal and perfectly put together, it felt like a really swanky party. And - for dessert?


Huge platters of all different kinds of cupcakes were brought to each table. Each cupcake had a different kind of candy on the top and they were so beautiful all stacked together like that. Note to self...


Shortly after dessert came the moment that my darling Daniel had been dreading all day long: the best man speech. My poor little baby was so nervous all day and the moment had finally come. I knew that it would be a hit as anyone who knows Dan knows that he is a) hilarious and b) successful at anything and everything he attempts, but he wasn't so sure. Luckily, it all went off without a hitch and he had people in stitches the entire way through. 

The rest of the night was spent dancing and having an amazing time. I also seem to have stopped taking pictures, so lucky for all of you this post will finally end :) I again feel so lucky that I got to be there with Dan and all of his friends and that I continue to be exposed to this new world that is exciting and fresh and that I would not trade for anything in the world. And - I can't wait to go back in August for the wedding of Dan's Mom to Jim, her partner for over 15 years. Yay for wedding season!!! And YAY for the fact that next year it will my and Dan's turn!!!!!


ps - the picture above is absolutely disgusting of me...but I like the way Dan looks, so I stuck it up anyway. Could somebody puhLEASE get me into some sunshine??? I look like a vampire...

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Botox, Baby!

There are a few of you who will read this who already know what I am about to say, but for those of you who don't, let me explain.

About 3 years ago I was diagnosed with a rare voice disorder called Spasmodic Dysphonia. To make a long story short, what this means is that the part of my brain that sends signals to my vocal cords to make them work/sound normal basically misfires and causes my vocal cords to move when they shouldn't. This causes my voice to sometimes sound strained and/or shaky. There is no cure for this disorder but the treatment is that I get shots of Botox (yes...Botox) into my vocal cords about every 4 months. The Botox basically calms down the vocal cords so that the sound I produce when I speak sounds more normal. Then, as soon as I can feel/hear the shaky sounding voice again, I know it is time for another shot.

Unfortunately, there is a side effect which is that right after I get the Botox shot, I lose my voice for 2-3 weeks. It sucks and I hate it. I mean, let's be honest. It effects everything in my life from my job to talking on the phone to ordering food in a restaurant to people thinking I am always sick - it all becomes just slightly more difficult and annoying. No, I will not die from Spasmodic Dysphonia and yes, there are A LOT of worse things people deal with in life, but it is still a huge pain in the arse and I hope every day for a cure. But, until that cure comes, we with this condition are slaves to Botox. Sweet, sweet Botox.

Prior to my diagnosis I, like most people, thought that Botox was simply yet another cosmetic aid used frequently by the rich and famous. On many occasion I scoffed at celebrities in the magazines who had obviously had a tad too much and couldn't move their faces. It was a superfluous extravagance that had nothing to do with me and never would. Oh life...it does like to throw us zingers, doesn't it?

Botox is now somewhat of a life line for me. Being able to speak...simply speak...is not something that many of us really ever think about until it is jeopardized. In the year before my diagnosis I noticed the voice that I had had all my life slowly changing and morphing into this unrecognizable, fractured and strained sound. Saying words became difficult and I struggled with doctor after doctor to figure out what was wrong with me. At first it was stress, then acid reflux, then a speech disorder but I knew in my heart that none of these were correct. Finally I was sent to a voice specialist and an ear, nose and throat doctor and within minutes they were able to diagnose me. It was both a relief and a sadness to finally know the answer - an incurable brain disorder that makes me sound funny - BRILLIANT! Shortly thereafter I received my first Botox treatment and I have been going back for more ever since. I really don't know what I would do without the stuff and I am thankful every day that even though there is not a cure, there is a treatment.

Seeing as Botox drastically improved my quality of life, I became curious about other uses for the blessed little diluted poison, and what I found was that Botox helps A LOT of people. Wrinkles schminkles - this stuff goes waaaay beyond vanity. Besides giving me my voice back, here are some other conditions which are aided by Botox:
  • Bladder disorders
  • Muscle spasms
  • Hyperhydrosis (excessive sweating)
  • Cerebral palsy spasms
  • Cervical Dystonia (painful condition affecting head and neck)
  • Excessively oily skin
  • Drooling
  • Hair loss
  • Eye twitching
  • Crossed eyes
  • Clenched jaw
And the list could keep on going. Doctors seem to constantly be finding new uses for Botox and the FDA is continuing to approve its use for more treatments. Who would have thought that one of the deadliest poisons in the world could help so many people? Every rose has it's thorn. Wait - that's not right...er...every thorn has it's rose? Hmmmm...every cloud has a silver lining? Sure - we'll stick with that one. Anyway, it is so much more than a cosmetic aid - it is a quality of life aid and I just wanted to tell my tale of how much it has changed my life.

I guess I also wanted to spread the word because I think that too often people judge a book by its cover and this whole experience has really opened my eyes - not only to the medical benefits of Botox, but that just because someone can't stop shaking or has a funny sounding voice or has a misshapen neck/back/whatever, does not mean that they are dumb or inadequate or not qualified. This may seem like a dumb thing to say, but I think that these types of feelings/ideas happen more than people realize. Hopefully one day all of the brilliant and talented doctors out there will be able to find cures for all of these strange little abnormalities, but until then it is a matter of acceptance of the problem, understanding from other people and a little precious baby by the name of Botox.

ps - If anyone ever reads this who has my, or a similar condition, please let me know. I have never met anyone else with Spasmodic Dysphonia and I would love to hear how it has affected your life.

Thursday, June 4, 2009

Weak Coffee

I HATE weak coffee. Hate it. What is the point? Who really likes drinking brown water - which is about all that weak coffee is. Well - I guess that it also what strong coffee is too...but whatever. Ugh. Unfortunately for me, and I am sure many people across the world, someone in my office is a weak-coffee-maker. Perhaps it is many people - I do not know. But what I do know is this: when I go to get myself a cup of coffee, it is something I look forward to very much, and when I take that first sip to find that what I have in my hand is not a delightful cup of java but rather a brownish watery vessel of grossness, I get very sad. Then I get mad and throw my cup against a wall and demand that we all stop the insanity. Okay - so maybe I don't do that...but I think about doing it. Those are my thoughts for the day. Thank you and good day to you all.
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