I am a pretty happy girl today for a variety of reasons. My Red Wings are doing fabulous, my daughter decided to up and potty train out of the blue, and my MRI came back informing me that I have no brain tumor, nasty growth, or any other offensive object somehow contributing to my headaches (no surprise there though).
So, to elaborate:
***The Red Wings have thus far made the Penguins look like the inexperienced, over-rated team I have believed them to be. Now do not misunderstand me. I think they are a very good team with some absolutely talented players, who still could easily make a series of this Stanley Cup final. However, it does show that my assessment was correct. The Penguins have not faced a team like the Red Wings thus far in their playoffs, and now find themselves facing a rude awakening. Perhaps they were believing too much of their own press? How quickly the media backtracks now and jumps on the Red Wings band wagon. Once more I say to hold on. Yes, we have won two games. In fact, we have two shut outs. Right now it looks like nothing short of a freight train could slow the Wings down, but this is hockey, and I for one will not be counting my chickens before they have hatched and Lord Stanley is being hoisted above Nick Lidstrom's head. I have seen crazy things happen too many times, and we will be going to their arena for the next two games. At the same time the Wings are the better team, and barring any more ridiculous calls (Holmstrom's supposed interference negating Lidstrom's goal in Game 1) I believe we will prevail.
And what was up with Roberts, flat out punching Franzen in the head during the third period?! For those of you paying attention Whitney went on to also knock Franzen in the skull just a few minutes later. When the one player who is coming back from concussion like symptoms is nailed twice within the span of eight minutes, I find it hard to believe he wasn't being targeted. Franzen, for his part is more forgiving than I, saying they were just trying to get their team fired up and when questioned about being hit in the head only replied that well, he does have a big one, implying it is an easy target. I am not so sure.
And, of course, now the whining begins that the Detroit defense is obstructing and Osgood embellished his fall into the net. Funny, how no Penguin was complaining when Holmstrom's love tap on Fleury's pads negated a Red Wing's goal, but now when it is on them it is suddenly not fair. Can we say sour grapes?
On to Game Three!
*** Isabelle woke up last Tuesday and decided from that moment on that she was going to use the potty, and has been accident free ever since. It is simply amazing how she just suddenly began doing what I have been wanting her to do for months. I am so glad, I listened to all those wise mothers out there who told me to just wait and she would decide to on her own with no endless fighting on my side. YES!! My little baby is quickly joining the world of ladies wearing "big girl panties" and I am thrilled and proud. Who knew that pooping and peeing in a potty could leave one so fulfilled?
*** Yes, the MRI did nothing more then confirm what we already knew. I get a lot of headaches. Bad ones. So, bad, in fact, that one can see the evidence of them scarred on my brain. Or as my doctor put it "a small defect in the white brain matter, which is seen in people with untreated high blood pressure, diabetes, or chronic severe headaches." Using the word "defect" in conjunction with describing my brain is not something I enjoy, although I am sure my brother will get a good laugh out of that one. Regardless, I am back to playing the waiting game to see if my current meds have the desired effect, but I must give them ample time to build up in my system before deciding if they do or do not help manage my headaches. I can say today they are not working as my head is feeling more like something that was mixed in a blender. On that note, I will sign off and ease the pain in my head with thoughts of my Red Wings and my potty-trained daughter.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
The Holy Grail
Yes, the Red Wings are in, but they still get no respect. I just finished reading an article on ESPN. com that picks the Penguins to win in the seven game series. On and on about how glorious the Pittsburgh forwards are and how great Fleury has been between the pipes. And while they were at it why not just anoint Crosby as the second coming? Ugh, I so hate all the so-called experts.
So, let me just throw in a little food for thought. I have no doubt that this will be a tough series between two highly skilled hockey teams, arguably the most skilled teams in the NHL. I have no doubt that the Penguins are, indeed, worthy of the praise they have received having essentially coasted through the previous rounds of the playoffs. However, anyone who follows hockey a little bit would tell you the Western conference is much tougher to play in. And while Fleury may be a great goalie, Osgood has proven he can hold his own, plus he has Stanley cup finals experience under his belt. Not to mention I do not believe Fleury has been tested with the likes of Datsuk and Zetterberg thus far in the teams he has encountered, nor had someone get under his skin like Holmstrom. Malkin and Crosby will certainly be a tough duo, but I truly believe our defense with Lidstrom, Rafalski, and Kronwall have the capability of doing the job.
At the very least the Red Wings deserve praise and respect for the fact that year after year they put together a great team and are always contenders. The organization has been to the Stanley Cup finals 23 times, which is the second most in the NHL, behind Montreal. Furthermore, they carry the burden of being "the team to beat" into every series they go into, (with class and dignity, I might add) and if they so much as hiccup and lose a game everyone starts screaming about how they are choking and are not a great team after all. Now all the chatter will be about the youth of the Penguins and the experience of the Wings. Well, fine. Our road to the cup this year has shown us to be a team that when we stumble, can come back even harder, even when our number one scoring man, Franzen, is not playing. So, enough with all the predictions; drop the damn puck and then we will see.
So, let me just throw in a little food for thought. I have no doubt that this will be a tough series between two highly skilled hockey teams, arguably the most skilled teams in the NHL. I have no doubt that the Penguins are, indeed, worthy of the praise they have received having essentially coasted through the previous rounds of the playoffs. However, anyone who follows hockey a little bit would tell you the Western conference is much tougher to play in. And while Fleury may be a great goalie, Osgood has proven he can hold his own, plus he has Stanley cup finals experience under his belt. Not to mention I do not believe Fleury has been tested with the likes of Datsuk and Zetterberg thus far in the teams he has encountered, nor had someone get under his skin like Holmstrom. Malkin and Crosby will certainly be a tough duo, but I truly believe our defense with Lidstrom, Rafalski, and Kronwall have the capability of doing the job.
At the very least the Red Wings deserve praise and respect for the fact that year after year they put together a great team and are always contenders. The organization has been to the Stanley Cup finals 23 times, which is the second most in the NHL, behind Montreal. Furthermore, they carry the burden of being "the team to beat" into every series they go into, (with class and dignity, I might add) and if they so much as hiccup and lose a game everyone starts screaming about how they are choking and are not a great team after all. Now all the chatter will be about the youth of the Penguins and the experience of the Wings. Well, fine. Our road to the cup this year has shown us to be a team that when we stumble, can come back even harder, even when our number one scoring man, Franzen, is not playing. So, enough with all the predictions; drop the damn puck and then we will see.
Friday, May 16, 2008
MRI Insanity
So, I had my very first MRI yesterday. Quite the experience. Being a person who likes to be informed I had popped myself on-line and read about MRI's and of course, queried everyone I knew who had gone through one. Everyone said the same thing: loud and small. (They were not kidding.)
First of all, I had to do the complete strip and throw on a hospital gown (two actually, I wore one as a robe for warmth and some added coverage in the posterior) because any kind of metal is BAD in an MRI for obvious reasons. Anyway, there I was swimming in two gowns (both like triple x-large and capable of covering a small humpback whale) sitting on this narrow "bed" and getting ready to slide into what looked to me to be a very tiny tunnel. First, the ear plugs wouldn't fit. Turns out I have tiny ear canals and most ear plugs just pop right back out when you try and stuff them in my ears. So, the nurse and I crammed them in the best we could and then she had me lay down in order to put this "helmet" on my head. I had a brief flash to Hannibal Lector in "Silence of the Lambs" when he is strapped to that board wearing what looked like an old style goalie mask. It wasn't that bad, really, as it only covered the top half of my head and there were large eye holes, but I was quickly feeling, shall we say .... contained. The nurse then wedged in a whole bunch of padding between my head and the helmet in order to muffle the sound and keep my head still. At that point I could not have moved my head if I wanted to. Handing me a squeeze ball with a cord attached she instructed me to press it if I needed to stop the test and told me to relax.
Now I should mention I am a little bit leery of tight spaces. I am not a huge fan of elevators (although I think that might have more to do with the movement and less the small space) nor do I like to be in a crowd. I would not have described myself as bad as claustrophobic because it isn't like I panic (Well, except that time at Shamrock bar in college when there were so many people it was like we were a herd of cattle in a corral and I felt my heart start racing and it was as if I was going to scream, cry, or freak out, if I did not get out of there immediately. Yeah, it was a panic attack but that's another story). So, hell, maybe I am claustrophobic, but as I did not wish to be sedated I figured I would just suck it up and handle it. Yikes. Turns out the tube was even smaller on the inside than it looked on the outside. I closed my eyes before I even felt the bed move into the tunnel, but all the same I could sense the closeness of it, the walls pressing down around me, and I felt my heart rate jump up and my hands start to shake.
Then the sound began, and I can only describe it as laying inside a metal drum while someone runs a jackhammer against it on the outside. Yes, it was that loud, and even knowing it was going to be loud I was still startled. The panic was crawling up my throat, and for a moment I thought there was no way I could do this test. Somehow, I managed to get a grip on myself and concentrated on taking some slow breaths. The sounds continued and changed varying like something in a kid's cartoon with strange twangs, beeps, pulses, thumps, and whistles, and soon I found myself trying to anticipate what I might hear next. It was a continual effort to keep a handle on my emotions and not let my fear creep in, and it dawned on me that an MRI might not be a bad torture device for any terrorists we capture. I mean lets review: not allowed to move, crammed in a tiny claustrophobic space, incredible noise..... for me, if you just piped in Rod Stewart singing "If You think I'm Sexy," I would be in the seventh circle of Hell.
Twenty minutes through the nurse pulled me out, and I had a few minutes to open my eyes while she gave me an injection of contrast dye, which was no big deal other then that it was cold and I could actually sense it in my vein moving up my arm. Later, I swear, I could feel it in my brain, like cool fingers. It sounds like something out of a horror flick, but truly, while weird it was not an unpleasant sensation. Six more minutes in the tube, and I was done, feeling like a dog let off it's leash for the first time.
Now I have only to await the results, although I doubt anything of significance will be found. I have joked with my mother for years that I know my headaches are not caused by something scary like a brain tumor because I would have been dead ages and ages ago. (Is that my Monty Python "Tis merely a flesh wound" mentality coming through again, Chrissy?)
Red Wings update: Do not get me started on the disgusting job of officiating during game 4 or the almost blatant appearance of slanting a game enormously in one team's favor in order to force a game five. Yes, the Wings did not play perfectly, but then again typically a team only has ONE opponent in a hockey game, not two. Actually, though it will work out fine as it is hard to play with a continual level of intensity when you are always kicking the other team's A**, and it will serve to help the Wings refocus their energies. Plus, we will not have the pressure of carrying on a long winning streak going into the final series. Besides, I see Pittsburgh was not any better at finishing off their round against Philly and they did not have to play against the refs too.
First of all, I had to do the complete strip and throw on a hospital gown (two actually, I wore one as a robe for warmth and some added coverage in the posterior) because any kind of metal is BAD in an MRI for obvious reasons. Anyway, there I was swimming in two gowns (both like triple x-large and capable of covering a small humpback whale) sitting on this narrow "bed" and getting ready to slide into what looked to me to be a very tiny tunnel. First, the ear plugs wouldn't fit. Turns out I have tiny ear canals and most ear plugs just pop right back out when you try and stuff them in my ears. So, the nurse and I crammed them in the best we could and then she had me lay down in order to put this "helmet" on my head. I had a brief flash to Hannibal Lector in "Silence of the Lambs" when he is strapped to that board wearing what looked like an old style goalie mask. It wasn't that bad, really, as it only covered the top half of my head and there were large eye holes, but I was quickly feeling, shall we say .... contained. The nurse then wedged in a whole bunch of padding between my head and the helmet in order to muffle the sound and keep my head still. At that point I could not have moved my head if I wanted to. Handing me a squeeze ball with a cord attached she instructed me to press it if I needed to stop the test and told me to relax.
Now I should mention I am a little bit leery of tight spaces. I am not a huge fan of elevators (although I think that might have more to do with the movement and less the small space) nor do I like to be in a crowd. I would not have described myself as bad as claustrophobic because it isn't like I panic (Well, except that time at Shamrock bar in college when there were so many people it was like we were a herd of cattle in a corral and I felt my heart start racing and it was as if I was going to scream, cry, or freak out, if I did not get out of there immediately. Yeah, it was a panic attack but that's another story). So, hell, maybe I am claustrophobic, but as I did not wish to be sedated I figured I would just suck it up and handle it. Yikes. Turns out the tube was even smaller on the inside than it looked on the outside. I closed my eyes before I even felt the bed move into the tunnel, but all the same I could sense the closeness of it, the walls pressing down around me, and I felt my heart rate jump up and my hands start to shake.
Then the sound began, and I can only describe it as laying inside a metal drum while someone runs a jackhammer against it on the outside. Yes, it was that loud, and even knowing it was going to be loud I was still startled. The panic was crawling up my throat, and for a moment I thought there was no way I could do this test. Somehow, I managed to get a grip on myself and concentrated on taking some slow breaths. The sounds continued and changed varying like something in a kid's cartoon with strange twangs, beeps, pulses, thumps, and whistles, and soon I found myself trying to anticipate what I might hear next. It was a continual effort to keep a handle on my emotions and not let my fear creep in, and it dawned on me that an MRI might not be a bad torture device for any terrorists we capture. I mean lets review: not allowed to move, crammed in a tiny claustrophobic space, incredible noise..... for me, if you just piped in Rod Stewart singing "If You think I'm Sexy," I would be in the seventh circle of Hell.
Twenty minutes through the nurse pulled me out, and I had a few minutes to open my eyes while she gave me an injection of contrast dye, which was no big deal other then that it was cold and I could actually sense it in my vein moving up my arm. Later, I swear, I could feel it in my brain, like cool fingers. It sounds like something out of a horror flick, but truly, while weird it was not an unpleasant sensation. Six more minutes in the tube, and I was done, feeling like a dog let off it's leash for the first time.
Now I have only to await the results, although I doubt anything of significance will be found. I have joked with my mother for years that I know my headaches are not caused by something scary like a brain tumor because I would have been dead ages and ages ago. (Is that my Monty Python "Tis merely a flesh wound" mentality coming through again, Chrissy?)
Red Wings update: Do not get me started on the disgusting job of officiating during game 4 or the almost blatant appearance of slanting a game enormously in one team's favor in order to force a game five. Yes, the Wings did not play perfectly, but then again typically a team only has ONE opponent in a hockey game, not two. Actually, though it will work out fine as it is hard to play with a continual level of intensity when you are always kicking the other team's A**, and it will serve to help the Wings refocus their energies. Plus, we will not have the pressure of carrying on a long winning streak going into the final series. Besides, I see Pittsburgh was not any better at finishing off their round against Philly and they did not have to play against the refs too.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Head Games
I have not written in a while and it is basically for one reason. My head hurts. Now I should mention my head has a long history of hurting, dating back to elementary school when I told my mother I had a headache to which she replied that kids as young as I was did not get headaches. (She has since decided that she was probably wrong in that instance). Normal for me is 3-5 headaches a week, mostly of the nagging but not debilitating variety that can be brought to a dull ache with over the counter medication. At times I have suffered from migraines, which first reared their enormously ugly head in graduate school, but promptly left when I finished my degree. Can you say stress-related? I proceeded to go through a few years relatively migraine free until I went into labor with my daughter, upon which I had the worst migraine of my life.
Since that time I have had menstrual migraines (which are what they sound like; lots of fairly severe headaches around a particular time of month) along with my run of the mill ones 3-5 times a week. Now though it appears that the evil headache gods have decided to throw yet another curve ball my way. Looking back I now realize I have had a headache everyday for going on a month. I start out relatively good in the morning but by the afternoon I am typically fading fast, and while the pain will ebb and flow it will not completely leave until I finally go to bed. Over the counter meds are powerless against them. These headaches are different in that I now have neck pain (I picture a giant squeezing a stress ball with my head being the stress ball, his hand at the base of my skull where it meets the neck) as well as the standard ache in the forehead region. They do not rank as severe as migraines (at least not most of the time) but it is the chronic never-ending factor which is really starting to take its toll.
Now I am not a hypochondriac nor do I believe I am a wimp, but this is starting to get ridiculous even for headache-prone me, and last week when I found myself crying because ..... yet again .... me head was throbbing and poor Isabelle wanted to play (and all I wanted to do was curl into the fetal position in a dark room) I decided I really did have to see a doctor.
I know, you are thinking why in the He** did she not do that way before? Well, I have for the migraines over the years, but as far as the numerous other headaches I have mostly managed them with non-prescription stuff, and while nagging I did not feel they were affecting my quality of life. Besides it has always been my norm, so frankly I do not know any different. I am very good at powering through most headaches and have become skilled at even masking the fact that I have one most of the time. For instance, the fact that Clay gets maybe three headaches a year is just amazing to me. What must that be like?
Now that I have sufficiently whined I will tell you without getting into minute detail that yes, I am seeing a doctor and yes, we have started a plan of action involving medication and a few tests, but the simple truth of the matter is there are no easy answers. Most of the time there is no underlying cause for chronic headaches, and the "lucky" people who get them have to simply learn to manage them the best they can with medication and lifestyle. I could be trying various medications for quite some time before I manage to find one that works well for me, and then of course, there is the trade off of side effects as these are not exactly baby-aspirin we're popping.
But it is not just about me anymore, and it is not fair to my almost three year old to have a Mom who is not fully present at any given moment due to chronic pain. She already knows too much, and asks me almost everyday if my head hurts .... something I would like her not to have to concern herself with at such a young age. So, I am officially getting on the medical roller coaster to see if we can find a solution, and in the mean time, I am going to do my best to laugh through the pain. After all, so many people out there have it worse.
Update: The Red Wings are helping to lift my spirits considerably with their fabulous play, as they hope to finish off Dallas tonight in Game 4, which would be their second consecutive sweep in the playoffs. Franzen and I have something in common as he continues to be out with "concussion-like symptoms," but Datsuk and Zetterberg are picking up the slack. I am guessing we will be facing Pittsburgh in the Stanley Cup final unless Philly can make an amazing comeback (just like Dallas hopes to do). So, go red Wings!
Since that time I have had menstrual migraines (which are what they sound like; lots of fairly severe headaches around a particular time of month) along with my run of the mill ones 3-5 times a week. Now though it appears that the evil headache gods have decided to throw yet another curve ball my way. Looking back I now realize I have had a headache everyday for going on a month. I start out relatively good in the morning but by the afternoon I am typically fading fast, and while the pain will ebb and flow it will not completely leave until I finally go to bed. Over the counter meds are powerless against them. These headaches are different in that I now have neck pain (I picture a giant squeezing a stress ball with my head being the stress ball, his hand at the base of my skull where it meets the neck) as well as the standard ache in the forehead region. They do not rank as severe as migraines (at least not most of the time) but it is the chronic never-ending factor which is really starting to take its toll.
Now I am not a hypochondriac nor do I believe I am a wimp, but this is starting to get ridiculous even for headache-prone me, and last week when I found myself crying because ..... yet again .... me head was throbbing and poor Isabelle wanted to play (and all I wanted to do was curl into the fetal position in a dark room) I decided I really did have to see a doctor.
I know, you are thinking why in the He** did she not do that way before? Well, I have for the migraines over the years, but as far as the numerous other headaches I have mostly managed them with non-prescription stuff, and while nagging I did not feel they were affecting my quality of life. Besides it has always been my norm, so frankly I do not know any different. I am very good at powering through most headaches and have become skilled at even masking the fact that I have one most of the time. For instance, the fact that Clay gets maybe three headaches a year is just amazing to me. What must that be like?
Now that I have sufficiently whined I will tell you without getting into minute detail that yes, I am seeing a doctor and yes, we have started a plan of action involving medication and a few tests, but the simple truth of the matter is there are no easy answers. Most of the time there is no underlying cause for chronic headaches, and the "lucky" people who get them have to simply learn to manage them the best they can with medication and lifestyle. I could be trying various medications for quite some time before I manage to find one that works well for me, and then of course, there is the trade off of side effects as these are not exactly baby-aspirin we're popping.
But it is not just about me anymore, and it is not fair to my almost three year old to have a Mom who is not fully present at any given moment due to chronic pain. She already knows too much, and asks me almost everyday if my head hurts .... something I would like her not to have to concern herself with at such a young age. So, I am officially getting on the medical roller coaster to see if we can find a solution, and in the mean time, I am going to do my best to laugh through the pain. After all, so many people out there have it worse.
Update: The Red Wings are helping to lift my spirits considerably with their fabulous play, as they hope to finish off Dallas tonight in Game 4, which would be their second consecutive sweep in the playoffs. Franzen and I have something in common as he continues to be out with "concussion-like symptoms," but Datsuk and Zetterberg are picking up the slack. I am guessing we will be facing Pittsburgh in the Stanley Cup final unless Philly can make an amazing comeback (just like Dallas hopes to do). So, go red Wings!
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Feeling Frazzled
Some days I feel like the proverbial chicken running around with its head cut off. Lately, I cannot seem to keep everything straight. This morning I just realized Mother's Day is next weekend. Normally I am completely prepared with cards and gifts by now, and instead I find myself going "Sh**! because it totally slipped my mind.
In case, you didn't know I like to be ahead of the game. I like to think of myself as responsible, but I am sure it comes across more like anal and over-structured. Oh well, at thirty-two years of age I do not think we are changing me at this point, so everyone will just have to deal with it!
I think I am forgetful at the moment because we are in the process of trying to sell our house and look for a new one. The whole saga of even thinking about moving everything we have accumulated in the last five to six years is intimidating. Not to mention I am nervous about how successful we will be in selling given the state of the housing market lately. Suddenly all the flaws in my house seem glaring and harsh. Clay and I have been busting our butts for the last couple of weeks trying to fix some of the little chores we have ignored. (He just finally finished the trim work around the crawl space door. The job took him a total of 30 minutes never mind that I have been asking him to do that for going on six years!!)
I also have been trying to make the house not look quite as full of our stuff as it is. That involves more purging of items (which I am good at) and trying to make closets appear spacious and neat (this is a bit harder). Plus, that whole anal thing comes into play as I found myself two days ago systematically going through my closet and hanging everything in it with white hangers because, gee, that looks nicer. (I know. FREAK) Now I will admit that it got worse, as I proceeded to put all the black hangers in the guest room closet for all of Clay's suits and Polo's, and burgundy hangers in Isabelle's closet, and all the blue shades in the front closet. It isn't like I have too much time on my hands either, but all the same I got bogged down in making it perfect (at least in my mind). I am sure a shrink could have a field day with me. I comfort myself with the thought that we all have our little idiosyncrasies, and in the scheme of things mine are not too terrible. Although at the rate I am going I might be scrubbing my floor with an old toothbrush by the time I am sixty. (Maybe I was a maid in a past life.)
Anyway, all of the house nerves combined with Isabelle's ever increasing level of energy (which will explode into tantrums, whining and all out disobedience if not given ample exercise) has me feeling more scattered than normal. But, then again, if this is the worst I have to complain about then I ought to just be quiet, right?
P.S. For those of you not keeping track: My glorious team, the Red Wings, trounced Colorado in a lovely four game sweep and are awaiting the next round against either Dallas or San Jose, both of which will be formidable teams. Closer to Lord Stanley we go!
In case, you didn't know I like to be ahead of the game. I like to think of myself as responsible, but I am sure it comes across more like anal and over-structured. Oh well, at thirty-two years of age I do not think we are changing me at this point, so everyone will just have to deal with it!
I think I am forgetful at the moment because we are in the process of trying to sell our house and look for a new one. The whole saga of even thinking about moving everything we have accumulated in the last five to six years is intimidating. Not to mention I am nervous about how successful we will be in selling given the state of the housing market lately. Suddenly all the flaws in my house seem glaring and harsh. Clay and I have been busting our butts for the last couple of weeks trying to fix some of the little chores we have ignored. (He just finally finished the trim work around the crawl space door. The job took him a total of 30 minutes never mind that I have been asking him to do that for going on six years!!)
I also have been trying to make the house not look quite as full of our stuff as it is. That involves more purging of items (which I am good at) and trying to make closets appear spacious and neat (this is a bit harder). Plus, that whole anal thing comes into play as I found myself two days ago systematically going through my closet and hanging everything in it with white hangers because, gee, that looks nicer. (I know. FREAK) Now I will admit that it got worse, as I proceeded to put all the black hangers in the guest room closet for all of Clay's suits and Polo's, and burgundy hangers in Isabelle's closet, and all the blue shades in the front closet. It isn't like I have too much time on my hands either, but all the same I got bogged down in making it perfect (at least in my mind). I am sure a shrink could have a field day with me. I comfort myself with the thought that we all have our little idiosyncrasies, and in the scheme of things mine are not too terrible. Although at the rate I am going I might be scrubbing my floor with an old toothbrush by the time I am sixty. (Maybe I was a maid in a past life.)
Anyway, all of the house nerves combined with Isabelle's ever increasing level of energy (which will explode into tantrums, whining and all out disobedience if not given ample exercise) has me feeling more scattered than normal. But, then again, if this is the worst I have to complain about then I ought to just be quiet, right?
P.S. For those of you not keeping track: My glorious team, the Red Wings, trounced Colorado in a lovely four game sweep and are awaiting the next round against either Dallas or San Jose, both of which will be formidable teams. Closer to Lord Stanley we go!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)