Holly is contemplating Facebook

A while back I joined Facebook in order to see the pics that my sisters--who live 12 hours by car and free minutes only after nine o'clock (which, in my two-kids-under-two-years-induced stupor, I can barely stay awake for) away--have posted, and yanno, keep up on their lives.

For those of you who don't have Facebook, it's kind of like, hey, I haven't heard from that person in a long time, or wow, those are cute pics of the new baby.  With all of the status updates, it's a little like SIMS in that you know what all of your friends are doing at any given time, minus the gibberish tantrums the characters throw when they aren't getting enough love, of course. 

And sometimes that too.

In other words, it's kind of fun, uuuunnnnnntillllllll the Facebook gods drop someone into your current life from your past that you still find goosebumpingly creepy.  Then your heart starts racing, your mind starts whirling, and you wonder, like the eye of Sauron, if I can see them, can they see me?  

And that's not the only weird situation that Facebook orchestrates.  

In my mind I totally understand that my friends have other friends.  But when I see their actual conversations, my hackles raise a bit.  I'm not proud of it, but I kind of wish that the lives of my friends would pause when we're not together.  And that they would be sitting at home, bored out of their minds without me.  Or if not, that they're at least chuckling about some memory of us.

Also?  I feel guilty looking through my "friends list" because I have been really bad about keeping in touch with people who were really good friends at one time.  Maybe Facebook should categorize the "friends list" into, "really, really close friends," "friends at one time," and, "I just added this one to increase my total number of friends so people are impressed when they see how many other people like me."

Of course, that really just adds pressure.  Kind of like the "relative" status.  This begs the questions, "Do I limit relatives to biology, or add close friends to this list? If I add close friends, but not other friends, will feelings be hurt?"  And then of course I have to see if I was added to their relative lists.  And then nurse my hurt feelings.

And another thing.  Seriously, how many quizzes can one take?  In one day?  And then post?

I know there's someone out there who knows what all these things mean, but it's not me.

Admittedly, I am curious about what my birth requests.  And what a superpoke is. 

BUT, it is fun to take a peek into the lives of relatives, friends, those who are merely added to increase my friendworth, creepy people who should stay in the past, and chronic quiz takers.   Even if it does elicit weird emotions and stalkerish tendencies.

Fresh Faces

I have been thoroughly enjoying my summer so far, even though I have had to sub for my husband at the alternative school (summer school) for the past few days.  Imagine my surprise when I showed up to class and saw a good handful of some cherubs that I've had in the past when they were middle school students.  I can't believe that I've been teaching long enough to see some of the scrawny, hyper sixth graders fast forwarded and graduating from high school.  

Walter, for example.  I distinctly remember Walter because he was this chubby little sixth grader with a major attitude.  Classified as having Emotional Behavior Disorder, I was nervous that this kid would wind up in jail some day.  I distinctly remember breaking up a fight between Walter and another student (kid made fun of his name), sending him to the principal's office, hearing him screaming obscenities the entire way there, and then learning out that he was curled up in the fetal position inside the principal's office, crying.  Six years later, Walter is about to graduate, talks football, is polite, courteous and has a general peaceful air around him. He gives me hope for some of my most rascally kids.

Speaking of rascally kids, we brought our two in for pics the other day.  Enjoy some updated photos!

Serious attitude, with a twinkle in the eye

Striking a pose

Trying to figure out how to smile on command

Trying to pull off the cool, casual look

Hey, they're both looking at the camera--it's a win in my book

Oh Crap!

So my friend and I used to joke about extreme weight loss plans.  We imagined a commercial with a thin woman cheerfully saying, "I lost forty pounds and all it took was one bite by this mosquito.  Thanks West Nile!"  

Or, "I lost thirty pounds by eating a single burger.  Thanks e-coli."

After my appointment yesterday, it turns out that, in my case, surgery is inevitable; the only question is when--not if--I should schedule it.  In all of the discussion about the implications of the surgery, talk eventually turned to the lifestyle changes that will come about as a result of being without a gallbladder--gallbladderless?

Apparently, sans gallbladder, your body has a hard time digesting fat.  So if you want to indulge with a piece of cheesecake, dip your crab legs in butter, or enjoy a steak, you run the risk of your body not being able to digest the fatty parts of these culinary delights.  

The unfortunate side effect of this is what the surgeon gently referred to as explosive bowels.

I suppose nothing helps you choose the less fatty options and lose weight quite like the threat of messing yourself in public.

"I lost 15 pounds and all it took was organ removal.  Thanks gallstones!"

The Gall

Turns out that I have an ailment that I thought was reserved for old folks. Upon doing some research, I have since discovered that those who suffer from the same ailment are women, Native Americans and people over sixty. I meet one of those criteria. And yet...

Last week I was happily enjoying a $.99 oriental chicken salad from the neighborhood (one of the glorious perks of being a teacher) when a sudden piercing pain stopped my fork mid stride. The pain continued through the night and went from "ouch" to a 10 on the scale. I was reminded quite a bit of being in labor. However, I did not go in to the emergency room because I was certain they would send me home with an antacid and tell me to avoid foods that cause, ahem, gassy issues. The night passed in a cycle of doze a couple minutes, wake up from the pain, doze a little bit more, wake up again, etc.

But I made it through.

Until the next night. As soon as the sun went down, the pain came out to play and BAM! I was on my hands and knees crying in pain again. My insurance has quite an emergency room deductible and I was still convinced that they would listen to my intestines, diagnose gas, and send me on my way. So I survived in much the same manner as the first night. As soon as the scheduling department changed the "closed" to "open" sign on the shingle, I speed dialed my way through and insisted on being seen that same day.

The dr. listened to my symptoms, felt my tummy and said, "Well, it could be one of two things. You could have an ulcer, or you may have had a gallbladder attack." She prescribed some ulcer meds, some happy pills for if the pain returned, and a trip to the ultra sound tech to check out my gallbladder.

I saw the ultra sound tech this morning and--surprise--I've got a nice big stone where it's not supposed to be. My dr. warned me that if we found out this was the case, we'd start talking about gallbladder removal.

Maybe it's just me, but removing an organ from my body (even if it's not a crucial organ) makes me a little nervous. I guess I'll learn more about it when my dr. calls me in for another visit to discuss the ultra sound results.

Meanwhile, I've started to lead most conversations with my health ailments. I know that's something an old person would do, but hey, with a gallbladder attack, I'm halfway there.