Bristol Palin named her son Tripp.

I have no words.

I’ll be back posting soon. And some good news for you (not so great for me, but not awful): I probably won’t have a job after January, so there will be plenty of blogging on both my sites and maybe even some on Frank’s.

Here’s what I’ve been doing:

Edward. Bella. Edward. Bella. Jacob (blerg already). Edward. Bella. Alice. Carlisle. Esme. Emmett. Jasper. Even Rosalie. Edward. Bella.

You get why I’ve been unavailable. But there is someone to blame: my sister-in-law, who got me Twilight for Christmas. Bad SIL!

We were already going to have one (pretty much all of Boise is covered in snow), and now it’s been snowing again. I love living here so much!

Merry Christmas, everyone! Give yourselves a hug from me!

The Poinsettia Bowl last night. I mean, I can appreciate a good defense. I can appreciate two good defenses. But 17-16 for a bowl game, and my team doesn’t even win? Bah. Congrats to TCU, though. They won arguably the most boring game in bowl history.

They are healing nicely. The bruises are turning colors, nothing is seeping, there is no pus, and my leg doesn’t even hurt anymore. Thanks for all your advice and related stories. I enjoyed reading those.

I know it was suggested that Minerva bit me, and I did toy with the idea, while studying my leg closely. There are two reasons this couldn’t be true. 1) The way the definite claw marks were positioned, she would have had to hang off my leg, perpendicular to my leg and parallel to the ground, and bite me while hanging in this fashion. Not impossible, but less likely than just kapowing me over and over with her hooked claws. 2) If I open her mouth as wide as possible, her mouth isn’t big enough for that to have been a bite. She is just that good with symmetrical slashing. She makes me proud.

One more thing: Several people talked about how serious it could get if these were bite marks due to the bacteria in the cat’s mouth. I understand that and totally agree, but why didn’t y’all also discuss the gravity of her kitty-litter-digging claws going into my leg? And I’m really just wondering the answer to that question, not trying to argue or bait anyone, because my first thought when I saw all the wounds was that I needed to disinfect them STAT, because her claws dig through poo. I would actually be less afraid of an infection from a bite.

Discuss.

HAPPY GIRL: Hey, if we were rich, we could have a disco ball!
***

HAPPY GIRL: Daddy! Daddy! Smell my elbow!
CADET HAPPY: No.
HAPPY GIRL: No really! Smell my elbow! Really! It smells like cherry!
***

SARAHK [after getting off Jimmy Neutron’s Atomic Collider]: Hey, Cadet. That ride felt like being in the car with you, except not as scary.
***

SARAHK: Cadet Happy is one of the worst drivers I’ve ever ridden with.
MRS. HAPPY: Yes, he is. I still usually let him drive, though, because he’s an even worse backseat driver.
SARAHK: I’m sure he is. But yesterday, I backseat drove the whole way.
MRS. HAPPY: I’m sure he *loved* that. And you know, the worst thing about his driving is that he’s so self-confident…
SARAHK: Arrogant.
MRS. HAPPY: Ok, arrogant. I was being diplomatic.
***

SARAHK: Um, you’re following so closely.
CADET: They shouldn’t be going so slow.
SARAHK: I shouldn’t be able to read license plates.
***

CADET: Do any of you want anything?
SARAHK: Oh, yes. Could you get me some sunflower seeds? Frito-Lay.
CADET [upon returning to the car and handing me three different brands of sunflower seeds]: They didn’t have Frito-Lay. I figure between all those, you can find some that are to your liking. [I did. Fisher brand.]
***

HAPPY GIRL: Wow, you *really* like those chips.
***

CADET: My driving is like a work of art.
SARAHK: Yeah. A Picasso.

Hellooooooo. We’re sleepy tired, so we’re going to bed. Some thoughts I’d like to jot, though:

*My leg. Ack, my leg. Around the quadruple-vampire-bite area are four circular, purple bruises which meet together to form a rather nasty bruise. Sexy. And owie. Hurts bad.
*Minerva’s betrayal also hurts bad.
*Cadet Happy is a scary, horrible driver, and I’m pretty sure he was trying to get us killed driving us to his house from the airport.
*Minnesota (for the sum total of ten minutes that we’ve been outside in it) is not any colder than Boise was earlier this week. But I think it’s going negative tonight, so I’m glad we will be inside, me in my thermals topped by my velvet PJs.
*Mrs. Happy is a wonderful, gracious host. Y’all, you should do whatever you can to get invited here, because she takes care of her guests. I’ve already decided that I’m *her* guest and not Cadet’s. When we arrived, we were greeted with cookies from a gluten-free bakery (yummmmmy cookies). She made beef in pomegranate sauce, a recipe she got from gluten-free goddess, especially for us. She made the mashed potatoes with non-dairy milk, green beans exactly how I like them, and fluffy gluten-free rolls… and then we had gluten-free cupcakes from the bakery for dessert! Srsly, she is the bomb. Oh, did I mention the cupboard full of gluten-free snacks? She’s teh awesome.
*I am improving on Mario Kart.
*The Happy kids are precious, and it was really nice to finally meet their youngest, who was born shortly after we “met” Cadet in 2004. The oldest is a total firecracker and has much more energy than I recall from their Florida visit. Speaking of that, when they came to Florida, she left her Barbie digital camera at our house, and being a horrible person, I didn’t mail it back. I brought it with to Minnesota, and before we leave, I’m going to wrap it and put it under the tree for her. Hahahaha. Merry Christmas, I’m no longer keeping your camera hostage.
*100% chance of precipitation in the Cities and in the north where the wedding is tomorrow.
*I had a whole cup of coffee today, considering I am no longer diagnosed with epilepsy. It gave me much awakeyness.

I’ve always known that Minerva is the big protective mama cat; any time Rowdi has messed with one of her sister cats, Minerva has been the one to ferociously attack the dog and let her know that it is NOT okay to harm her little cubs. I have assumed, however, that Minerva loves me above all others. As we always say to each other, “You’re the sweetest and the cutest, and I love you the best!” (I’m the only one who says this out loud.) I found out tonight that I am not, in fact, number one in Minerva’s world. When it came down to a perceived fight between Sydney and me, my bebe chose Sydney and let me know in no uncertain terms.

Everything was going as expected: We leave tomorrow morning at i’ll-freeze-to-death-thirty, so I am doing laundry and dishes, cooking dinner, unpacking the gifts we ordered from Amazon, packing for the trip, moving furniture around so we can *finally* put up the Christmas tree, moving our new elliptical machine (thanks, Old Flemings!) to its place, and finishing the Christmas decorations. (There’s still a whole week until Christmas and two weeks until they have to come down.)

Suddenly I heard a wretched noise coming from the window next to the china cabinet. Sydney had apparently tried to jump down from the china cabinet to the window ledge and had managed to tangle herself up in the cord for the window blinds. I couldn’t tell if she was strangling herself or had her foot caught, but she was fighting hard with the cord and moaning angrily, as fighting cats do. I dropped what I was doing and ran to her. I grabbed her and lifted her up so that if she was strangling, the pressure would be off her neck and I could figure out how to get her down. Meanwhile, Frank was on his way over. Sydney started fighting with *me* now, slashing my left arm with amazing strength (and depth of slash). I was trying to get Sydney out of the cord (her foot was tangled up in it) and fight her off at the same time. Suddenly, I heard another vicious yell from behind me and felt cat claws punching me over and again in the back of my right thigh: Minerva was attacking me. So now I was trying to help Sydney, save my own arm, and free myself from Minerva. She nailed me several times and then jumped away. At the same time, Sydney managed to get loose of the cord and jump down to the kitchen bar. Not pleased that I was still standing, Minerva thrashed me some more, and Frank arrived and pulled Minerva off of me. By this time, I was on my knees, writhing in pain. (I am a wuss like you would not believe.) Rogue joined the party and head-butted me while cooing. Head-butting is how Rogue tells you it’s time to pet her. NOT NOW! TOO BUSY HAVING MY LEGS RIPPED APART TO PET YOU!

This all happened in a matter of fifteen seconds, if that, from the time I heard Sydney to the time Frank pulled Minerva off of me. I don’t blame her — she arrived late to the scene and thought I was harming Sydney, and she was just trying to protect her precious girl. Knowing that she chooses Sydney over me does kind of sting a bit, but as I am severely injured, my physical pain takes precedence over the pain of betrayal.

I’m going to show you my naked thigh now — I normally wouldn’t do this because of my whole modesty thing, but I’m pretty sure there is zero chance of any of you lusting after my cottage cheesy thigh. You’ll be too horrified by the wounds to lust anyway.
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I had a case of mild panic this morning when I remembered that I had nothing to wear to Laura’s wedding. And even though we probably won’t be at the reception — we were going to go eat somewhere else and come back for the cake cutting and all that, but it is likely to snow, so the earlier we head back to the cities, the better — people will look at me at some point during the wedding. And I don’t want to be conspicuously underdressed in jeans and a t-shirt, because I want all eyes on Laura when they light the unity candle (I think that’s when I’m singing). So I went shopping this morning. For Christmas presents and something to wear. When I was walking through J.C. Penney, I saw all the little teeny dresses, loved the material, hated the skankiness. But the dress material reminded me that I have a perfectly cromulent ankle-length black dress, the dress I wore to our rehearsal dinner.

Still, I was slightly anxious. See… the dress is from three years ago. A classic, classy style, so it’s not like I’m wearing legwarmers and jellies… but have I gained weight or lost weight since the wedding? With the celiac thing, it’s been a nightmare roller coaster, though I’ve been down most of the last several months. I wasn’t weighing myself back in the wedding days, and I think I look fatter in my wedding pictures than I do now, but pictures are deceiving, and my soul is often crushed by that little thing we call the scale.

Aaaaaaanyway. I got home from my unsuccessful shopping venture and quickly put on the long black dress. My worry was that it would be too tight, but it is definitely looser than before, and while I will appreciate the help of the support hose in flattering my figure, they are not necessary in order to squeeze my thighs and backside into the dress. It flows rather nicely.

Go me.

When you have an enormous, Grand-Canyonesque paper cut on the tip of your thumb, it’s best not to snap your fingers.

The Bank of the Northern Hemisphere calls almost every day asking for Frank. Every day, “He’s not here. May I take a message?” The reply is a very snappish, “No. We will call back.” Click. The other morning, the phone rang at 7 a.m. SEVEN. It was BofA. I was mad.

SARAHK: Hello?
BOFA: Hello, may I speak with Frank?
SARAHK: At seven o’clock? No, you may not.

I hung up.

Still, they persist. 7 a.m. and 2:45 p.m. seem to be their favorite times to call. So today they called again.

BOFA: Hello, may I speak with Frank?
SARAHK: This is Frank.
BOFA: I’m sorry, what?
SARAHK [convincingly]: This is Frank.
BOFA: Oh. Okay! I am calling to let you know we are sending you blah blah blah accidental death blah blah blah.
SARAHK: We’re not interested, so don’t worry about sending it. Don’t waste your paper.
BOFA: Oh, okay! Thank you very much. You have a great day!
SARAHK: You too! Thanks!

I figured they would still hang up on me when I said I was Frank, knowing that it’s not true. They were too worried about offending me by expressing disbelief that I have a man’s name. Maybe they’ll stop calling.

With expected cold in the afternoon, possible cold showers or flurries, and cold in the evening.

It is currently eighteen degrees. I don’t remember it being this cold last winter. Was it? Surely not. Oh, and this weekend? Big Baby Alert. The forecast shows that on the day of Laura’s wedding, the high is EIGHT. Yes, that’s a single-digit temperature. The low is BELOW ZERO. I’m pretty sure I will die. My only hope for not dying immediately upon my arrival in Minnesota is that we either can’t fly out of here due to weather or can’t land in Minnesota due to weather. I mean, I want to go to the wedding and sing in the wedding… but did you see the part about the low being BELOW ZERO? I finally bought a winter coat last week, but it’s for Idaho winter. Definitely not for Minnesota winter. I think I’m gonna need a bigger coat.

People move to Minnesota on purpose? Are they smoking crack at the time of that lofty decision? No, really. I know someone who hates the cold and is planning to move to Minnesota. I’m not even sure it’s warm enough to live there in July. And I haven’t even felt this BELOW ZERO temperature yet.

My ninth grade Earth Sciences teacher told us the definition of cold: the absence of heat. I now know what she meant. She meant eighteen degrees is the absence of heat.

My in-laws gave us a deep freeze last week (you should see the eensy weensiness of our refrigerator and its freezer), but given the weather, I’m not sure we needed it. We could have just put everything out on the back porch until May. I love fall and winter, but I am cold, and I am going to whine. It is my way. My nature. My everything. I think I’m just balking at going to Minnesota, where today’s forecast is “bitterly cold.” No really. The report says that.

Well, now that I’m done with my amazing post about the weather, I’m off to my dead-end job, where they keep it colder inside the building than it is outside the building. Enjoy your day.

Today in the EEG, I had to hyperventilate, as is the custom in EEGs. This is harder than it sounds, because you have to hyperventilate for three whole minutes. I started hyperventilating, and after minute one I was sure I was going to die. Then when the EEG tech said, “One more minute,” I kind of wanted to hurt her. My chest was tight, my abs were shaking, and I was just feeling that general malaise that comes along with purposeful hyperventilation. The tech even made me slow down. “You’re doing a great job! Actually too good. Slow down your breathing…” I really did feel like I would kick off. I’m not a baby in tests, but I actually said, “Um, now my chest is tight.” I probably had a heart attack. Who knows? I had a stroke sometime in the past and didn’t realize that either. After the hyperventilation, I shook for the rest of the test. I’m sure the results will be completely readable!

And then the tech said I could sleep, but every time I started to sleep, she’d wake me up. By the time it was all over, I was exhausted and wanted to kill her, just a little. And these things only last about an hour, from the time they start scrubbing your head with scouring pads to the time they re-scrub your head with scouring pads. I managed to get all the way to the parking garage afterward, but when I turned the corner and didn’t see my car, I was appalled. Someone had stolen my car. Why would they steal a brain patient’s car? That’s just horrible, I thought. They just come and take your car while you’re vulnerable. Turns out, I was parked one level up. BTW. The EEG techs? They really could just off you right there and make a clean getaway. This is what I was thinking as I was on my back, head being scoured, the nice lady measuring my head and touching my neck. She totally could have found a scalpel and offed me, and I would have been defenseless (as my gun was across the room).

There was an 18-month-old baby there getting an EEG at the same time I was there. His parents didn’t even seem scared or horrified that their toddler had to have an EEG. The toddler, however, was quite put out by the whole thing. My EEG was delayed, as my tech had to go help out with the toddler. You’d have thought they were torturing him, and I’d have to say they kind of do with the head scrubbing. Do they really need to scrub that hard? Really?

Today’s our “anniversary.” Three years since 12/10/05! Insane. We had fajitas, champagne, and IT. Booyah, you wish you were us.

Also, if you’re not watching Pushing Daisies, I just don’t know what is WRONG with you. The ponchos tonight! The ponchos! I got Olive’s right away (olives) and Ned’s, of course (pies). It took me a few seconds, but I eventually fell into a fit of giggles over Emerson’s poncho decorated in fish. Emerson Cod!

Heroes. I’d rather listen to Kellie Pickler than watch any scene featuring Mohindar. What an idiotic storyline.

Ok, now I’m just rambling. But hey. I’m totally beat. Give me a break.

Frank is about to go to bed, but I have to stay up until 1 in prep for my EEG. So what should I do to kill time? These are the options I am currently considering:

*Watch the last few episodes of DWTS on Hulu
*Watch Season 2 of 24 (I’m rewatching them all before the premier. I even broke down and bought the awful Season 6 because it was only $20 at Costco)
*Play Guitar Hero and improve my mad drum skillz
*Play Mario Kart to see if there is any way to place lower than 12th
*Clean downstairs (it was clean until we got back from vacation and subsequently moved in new furniture)
*Spend hours laughing at Blagojevich
*Work (hahahahaha - It’ll be bad enough trying to make sense of spreadsheets tomorrow when I’m sleep deprived. But post-massage and while I’m really tired? Bad idea.)
*Write my magnum opus on Buffy the Vampire Slayer
*Update the budget and finances
*Teach Rowdi how to knit
*Learn how to knit
*Develop lesson plans for homeschooling the children that we do not yet have
*Sharpen Minerva’s claws
*Prepare Christmas cards (yeah, I have them, but I’ll just go ahead and declare that it’s doubtful I’ll complete them)
*Ignore Rogue
*Pen a new Christmas song about snow
*Write a decent blog post (naaaaah - we’ll save that for when I get to be a housewife again)
*Torture Sydney by petting her
*Work a logic problem
*Reorganize my food cabinets
*Buy a small African country with Monopoly money
*Call and leave a message for my doctor asking for a prescription for one of these

I’ll probably put 24 on and clean the downstairs. After that, Rowdi had better be ready for some long-tail cast-ons. I have no idea what that means, but I googled knitting, and that’s what you get.

Later dudes.

That’s my weight today! I had noticed significant body improvement, even after Thanksgiving, so I decided to pull out the Wii Fit yesterday. I was so happy to see my weight still down from my previous weigh-in. And then again today it was down, and now I’m only 2.8 away from 150! And this time it’s for real, because the Wii Fit is all fixed.

So woo! Getting over the 150 hump has been hard, but I’m getting there…

My EEG is scheduled for this week. If it is clean (other than the slow left temporal lobe, which is most likely from a stroke I never knew about), I can wean the rest of the way off my seizure meds. I don’t have the tingles much except when I’ve forgotten to take my calcium and B-vitamins for several days in a row.

Garden of Life finally has a raw food multivitamin that is gluten-free. I bought a bottle to see if they’re any better than my Country Life raw food multi. Oh, and the ingredient list again had “malt diastase,” same as the horseshoe-zyme pills from the same company. So I looked it up, because the label says gluten-free. It turns out that malt diastase is an enzyme that helps you digest… wait for it… malt. So that’s apparently not what was making me sick when I was taking the horseshoe-zyme pills before.

I’ve started drinking two ounces of aloe vera juice every day. Sounds disgusting, but this particular brand (George’s, I think) tastes like water and is not slimy. It’s good for general healing, and since I would someday like to get over my lactose, egg, and corn sensitivities, I will try anything I can to quicken the healing.

Sprouts. The farmer’s market and supplement smorgasbord. I’d like one in Boise, plz kthx. Their papaya enzymes are better than the Now brand that I previously took (and will again someday take, because we do not have Sprouts, and I only bought two bottles). I also got a new probiotic for a specific issue there, but I can’t remember the name of it. It’s peachy, and I bought another general probiotic from the same brand. The Country Life probiotics weren’t doing it for me.

And here’s a piece of advice for you crazy kids out there: If you’re lactose intolerant, for the love of Pete, do not give in to your craving and eat a bowl of chocolate almond ice cream for dinner. I’m really glad I work at home in the afternoon.

Here’s another boring juice recipe for you from your friendly neighborhood crunchy (certified gluten-free) granola muser. It’s a ripoff of Essay’s beet/carrot/grapefruit/celery juice that she made me at her house two weeks ago. I made it yesterday and would have drank (drunk?) two gallons if I’d had enough carrots.

5 large carrots, root end removed
1 pear (d’anjou), quartered, stem removed
1 grapefruit, peeled, quartered
1/2 large beet, with greens
1 stalk celery

Makes 24 ounces. This is very sweet and nigh perfect.

New to us, anyway, and very nice. My wonderful in-laws (who are the best in-laws ever, and not just because of the free furniture and BSU tickets) gave us their dining room table with matching china cabinet and buffet. The great room is entirely transformed, and the outfit goes perfectly with the piano. My MIL spent days refinishing the table and buffet. They are beautiful!

I’ll show you pictures soon. Or I won’t. You know me, flaky!

A couple of years ago, I was all depressed and sad because it was Christmastime, and we were going to Idaho (not depressing), so I wasn’t going to get a Christmas tree. It just felt so anti-me to not have a Christmas tree. Jim and Rachel came over, and she had stopped and gotten a little fiber optic tree for me.

It makes me smile every year when I pull it out.

Boys, this is a very girly, very TMIy post. You have been warned, so I don’t want to hear about how you just soooo did not need to read this, because if you can’t read my first sentence, you were also not able to read the remainder of this post, which means that you have no place to say that you soooo did not need to read this, as you obviously cannot read.
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Yesterday morning, we got up and left our little inn in Tropic, Utah (seven miles east of Bryce Canyon) and went to Bryce. It was amazing and dusted with a little bit of snow. There were approximately ten people in the entire park when we were there. It was pristine, and within five minutes we were talking hiking trip, with some camping thrown in for good measure. We didn’t stay very long, maybe an hour, but I took a lot of pictures while we were there. Here are a few, and I know they do not do the canyon justice…

One of the overviews from Bryce Point.

Close-up from the same point.

Snow.

It was overcast because the sun was hanging out behind the clouds. I loved this picture.

This bird was playing hard to get with my camera, and after I managed to catch him, he squawked all through the canyon.

Isn’t he beautiful? He stayed nice and still for me.

We got in last night and spent today in our pajamas. Tomorrow I guess we have to go back to reality and jobs and such.

Frank is taking his sweet time getting up this morning (he acts like he’s on vacation or something), so I’m reading blogs, doing finances, and itching like mad — it’s my only glutening symptom so far today! I even woke up with no headache, thankyouverymuchexcedrinmigraine. I rarely itch after gluten, but this started while I was eating the offensive sunflower seeds, and my fingers are itching. Nothing else makes your fingers itch.

ANYWAY. So I’m sitting here on the laptop, and I notice that Frank is making coffee. I unplugged the coffee pot last night to plug in our noise machine so we could sleep to the relaxing sound of rain. So as he goes to fill up the carafe with water, I reach over and unplug my laptop. It’s fully charged, and we’re not going to be here long. A few minutes later, he is pouring his first cup of coffee, and he says, “You had the choice of unplugging your laptop and unplugging the sound machine…”

WhatEVS. I enjoyed listening to the rain all morning.

Haha, Megyn Kelly just said “duty.”

I was soooo careful this week. No gluten! I will take your wheat-filled hands off if you put them anywhere close to my untainted bag of chips! Don’t even reach across my gravy to stir yours, you glutenous cretin! You only touch the pickles with a fork! Grama brought those for ME, so don’t you ruin them! RARR!

Seriously, I did almost take off my cousin-in-law’s hand for starting to reach into my chip bag. I’m a cold-hearted killer! The look on his face was just fantastic. I apologized for the near handputation but was still clear about the nonexistent access he would have to my chip bag. There were like a thousand other chip bags, so I didn’t feel bad.

Yeah, so I went through two rounds of Chipotle (barbacoa twice, yo), lunch at Dickey’s in the zoo (baked potato and nasty potato salad — really, potato salad requires some moisture!), dinner at my BFF’s (not hard, since she is also GF), linner at Pei Wei, two different family Thanksgivings (one with about 40 people, including a bajillion children) and another family dinner. Managed to not get sick, also managed to alienate half my family with handputations. Whatevs. My cousins are like baby factories, someone’s bound to like me in the future.

ANYWAY. The POINT. You’ve been waiting for the point. We left Amarillo tonight, decided to get started early on our trip back. (We are currently in the city in which we first met in person.) Somewhere west of Amarillo, we stopped for gas and sunflower seeds. I need sunflower seeds if I’m driving in the dark, and since it gets dark around 3 p.m. these days, I needed sunflower seeds right away. While Frank pumped gas, I went inside. Looked for Blow Pops but had to settle for Dubble Bubble gumballs and Crybaby gumballs (I checked the ingredients and they were fine). Also got Razzles (also fine). And then I found the sunflower seeds, Frito Lay, of course, because they’re the best. I grabbed two bags and then noticed they had BBQ sunflower seeds. Frito Lay! So I put back one bag of the plain and grabbed the BBQ. You see where this is going.

An hour or so later, I had devoured half the bag of BBQ sunflower seeds, and I gasped. I had never checked the ingredients. I was driving, so I asked Frank to check the ingredients for me. He read off a hundred ingredients and stopped right after he read “barley malt.”

So yeah. I glutened myself on sunflower seeds after managing to not be sick (with the help of my family and friends) the entire week of travel and wheat-laden smorgasbords. As soon as I realized how stupid I was, I took two probiotics (not that I think they’ll do anything for the glutening, but they’re probiotics that are good for the gastric distress that I will surely feel tomorrow while driving through the gas-station-bare Painted Desert). I also took three or four papaya enzyme tablets. My migraine is mild, because I took Excedrin Migraine as soon as I felt it start to come on. I have pin-prick sensations in my eyeballs. My muscles are sore, and my brain is very foggy.

Goodnight, peeps! Avoid gluten!