Mickey Mouse is dead. 'Cause I ate him for dinner.

I have lived in Southern California for pretty damn close to 36 years. Since birth, actually. In all that time, never have I EVER set foot into Disneyland, even though it is only two and a half hours from me if traffic is cooperating with you. (Read: Never in the last 15 years unless you have some kind of a magic carpet that will take you over gridlock.) And I was perfectly happy in this decision. As I've gotten older, it's almost been a badge of pride for me. I've NEVER been to Disneyland, bitches, and I'm never going to! Nyah! (insert childish act of sticking out tongue here)

Then I had a husband. And then children. All three of whom have been indoctrinated by the cult of Disney that you MUST absolutely go to Disneyland if you ever want to have fun at all.

And if you don't go to Disneyland, then you must be some kind of Communist or something.

(Being called a Communist by your children is quite possibly the most interesting thing I have ever experienced, by the way. They ran giggling from the room when I told them that they would have to sleep with the sheep for the rest of their lives for that remark. Their father put them up to it. Rat bastard! Maybe I should have told him that HE would have to sleep with the sheep. Harrumph!)

Since Thing Two managed to get straight A's last year in school (a feat *I* never accomplished in my entire life), she was promised that she would get to go to a theme park this summer. Initially, the list of parks she was given to choose from did not include the dreaded D-word. However, Thing One batted her little eyelashes and suckered daddy into accidentally letting the D-word slip, and my fate was sealed from that moment. Disneyland it was.

Initially, I disavowed any part of this trek. It was going to be a one-day excursion, and The Husband was going to take one for the team and take the two girls and go. Plus, I pulled the "I'm still recovering from surgery" card (insert Scarlett O'Hara fainting act here) and whined about needing a nap halfway through the day still (no lie) and that I "Just couldn't make it." I've never been more of a drama queen in my life, people. No way in hell were you taking me to this place. Nope. Not going there. Ever.

Then The Husband got the bright idea to make this a vacation instead of a day-trip. He didn't want to deal with getting up at o'dark-thirty in the morning, driving down to Anaheim, going all day long, and then driving all the way back. So he wanted to get a hotel. And if he got a hotel, then OF COURSE I had no excuse not to go because naptime? Can be accomplished when you have a hotel room. And then he sweetened the pot by saying that he would get me some spa treatments if I tagged along. I didn't even have to go into the park if I didn't want to. Grrrrrr. Fine. I'll go. I'm NOT going into Disneyland, but I'll go with you. I needed some pampering anyway. My feet are terrible! Hmph!

So The Husband calls Disney and sets up our reservation at Disney's Grand California Hotel and Spa. He got two-day hopper passes for the three of them so that they could visit both Disneyland and Disney's California Adventure. I was set up for a mani and pedi at the hotel's spa, and life was grand. Until we got that letter in the mail the day we were going to leave.

After several hours of calls to and from Disney, a new package for our entertainment was created. In order to apologize for their screwup, we were upgraded to the concierge package with the suite, a free meal at Ariel's Grotto with the Disney Princesses (score for my girls!) and they threw in park hopper tickets for me as well. Hrm. We'll see about that. With my spa treatments, I really won't be able to get into the park(s) much at all, so maybe I'll still miss out. It's all good.

On the drive down there (Four and a half freaking hours because of gridlock. SO glad I don't live down there!) The Husband starts getting the wacky idea that maybe we should stay a bit longer. It was going to be our last thing for the summer, and he wanted to make things less rushed. As it stood, we were only booked for two nights, which meant that either they would have to hit one of the parks when they got there for only part of the day and then spend the next day at the other park. He wanted two full days to go to the parks. Fine. It's only money, right? Plus we were going to get there too late to fully enjoy the tickets that night. And one more way for me to avoid actually entering Disneyland, right?

We FINALLY get there, somehow manage to get mostly lost getting to the freaking hotel (Better signs would help, Disney! Gah! And Husband? How in the HELL do you expect me to know my way around someplace when I have NEVER BEEN THERE IN MY ENTIRE LIFE!?!?), and eventually check in. Let me say that the Grand Californian is one of the most beautiful resort hotels I have been in to date - and we like going to nice and beautiful hotels. The arts and crafts style that they used while kind of out of place in a hotel of this magnitude, was very lovely. There definitely was no expense spared in getting the look they wanted. And it shows on each and every hotel bill. Ooof! We get to the room, and again, very lovely and spacious. Not quite as spacious as our suite that we scored at the JW Marriott in Las Vegas with our Marriott points, but very, very nice indeed.

As a part of the concierge package, we get free access to their "club." This club basically provides snackage for you all. Day. Long. In the morning, continental breakfast along with cold cereal. Late morning to early afternoon, tea sandwiches and pastries. Late afternoon to early evening, PB&J sandwiches and a hot hors d'ouvre. Evening, milk and cookies along with bedtime stories/songs for the kiddies. And then at 9:25, you could watch the Disneyland fireworks from the club balcony with the music they play in the park piped in. If you were so inclined, you wouldn't have to eat anywhere else your entire stay. They provide chilled bottled water and the little small bottles of soda (all Coca-Cola products, of course!) for you to have at any time. During the late afternoon you could get beer, and in the evening you could get liquors like Kahlua, Baileys and Grand Margniere. This? Was some serious score-age, people. Well worth being "inconvenienced" by having our trip weekend changed because of their screw-up. They can inconvenience me anytime they want to!

We get settled into our room, get the girls in their jammies and head on out for milk and cookies for them. All before dinner, of course. We're just terrible parents, ya know? The girls have a great time with the stories, and stuff themselves silly on cookies. Mom and dad are relaxing, and I can feel just a little bit of the Disney spirit penetrating the hard shell I have around my heart. Not too much, you understand - just a little. But because this is so nice, I'm not really caring at the moment. I'll go back to being a hard-ass in the morning.

We go back to our rooms and order room service for dinner. We ended up ordering one appetizer and two entrees to split between the four of us. Needless to say with my limited stomach capacity and the girls' already semi-full tummies of cookies, there was a lot of food left over. Mostly french fries, but who cares. We're on vacation!

Then turn-down service comes. Oooh. I like turn-down service. Chocolate! And along with the turn-down of the bed comes this piece of paper that tells you the various activities going on in the hotel the next day that don't have to do with the theme parks at all. Oh look at this! A Build-a-Bear workshop for the kids! Sounds fun! So, we sign the girls up. The Husband is going to have to take them to it because it interferes with my spa stuff. He's a little bit apprehensive about this - it's a mommy thing to him - but agrees to go instead.

The next morning, after a nice breakfast at the club (Raisin Bran with two Splenda and a dash of milk for me - not a perfect breakfast, but one that at least ensures that I get some fiber that's been missing in my diet), we head to Downtown Disney (DD) where the Build-a-Bear workshop will be. I leave before they go in, and head to my spa treatments. After the workshop, the three of them will head onto Disneyland. We'll meet up by phone later on. Good plan! I get to avoid Disneyland. Yay!

So, after a couple of hours of spa treatments, a trip back to the club for the little sandwiches and more water, a quick trip to Sephora in DD and a nap (spa treatments and eating tire you out, don't you know?), The Husband and I decide that we'll have an early dinner at Naples Pizza in DD. Awesome. Cheese and pepperoni for me!

At dinner, The Husband surprises me with my own set of - come on, you can guess what it is, I think - Mouse Ears. With my name embroidered on the back. :::sigh::: Fucking Disneyland. Mouse Ears. That's almost as bad as going into Disneyland, ya know? At least he had the sensibility to get me the ones that are decorated like a pirate with a fake golden earring through the left ear. 'Cause it can't be through the right ear - that would make you a faggot and Disneyland can't be associated with those kind of people, now can they? (A bundle of twigs? How can a person be a bundle of twigs? I never understood that slur as a child.)

Being the good sport that I am (Wouldn't you be after spa treatments, a makeup shopping trip and a nap? Plus good pizza?) I put the ears on. This leads into the most perfect setup I've ever seen dished out on me in my life.

"Well, now that you're a proper pirate mouse, you have to go on Pirates of the Carribean. You can't be a pirate mouse if you haven't gone on Pirates."

Damn. He got me but good. And in front of the children. :::sigh::: Fine. I'll go. But only on Pirates. Take me ANYWHERE near It's A Small World and I will spontaneously combust. I promise. It won't be pretty.

I feel like I am being led to my doom as we approach the park. Even at 5:30 p.m., people are still streaming into the place. It's unreal. How can they stand being in such a crush of humanity? We get inside, and start making our way to Main Street. Along the way, we stop and the girls and I get our pictures taken with Cruella DeVille. No Goofy or Mickey or Minnie for me, please - I refuse to sell my soul to Disney completely. Just the most slatternly evil character Disney has ever created. The only one that would have been better is Malificent, and I don't think they "do" that character at the park. Hopefully I'm wrong, because she is just so cool.

We journey into the French Quarter and are able to quickly make our way through the line of Pirates. But OMG, people. The sheer amount of STROLLERS in this park is enough to make you vomit. At least one third of the people in this park are being rolled around in strollers. This I think, more than anything else, is really why I have never, ever wanted to set foot in Disneyland. Why on earth to people think that it is a Very Good Thing to bring children under the age of reasonability (i.e. between 5 and 6) to a theme park? Why? You know that they are going to have a meltdown because they're tired/hungry/cranky/hot at least once in the day, and you are going to be made miserable because of that. You are going to make people around you miserable. Why would anyone want to do this to themselves?

If anyone thinks that I'm anti-small children in public places, think again. It's just that I remember acutely the mortification I felt every time my children had a meltdown in public at that age. I couldn't get them out of places fast enough. It's not the child's fault (most of the time, unless they're being little pricks, which children can be if they are allowed to get away with it) that they're melting down. They're being put in a situation (strange place, too much stimulation, no place familiar to nap, ginormous scary rodents to take your picture with) where they are guaranteed to blow up. It's like bringing a ticking time bomb into a park. And they will never remember the experience!

So people. For the love of humanity. Wait to bring your children to a theme park when they can enjoy it and so that you can actually enjoy it with them as well. It makes it so much more fun when they can truly appreciate what's going on. Your toddler honestly does not care that he/she is at Disneyland. Plus, when they're older, they can ride all the rides and not feel left out when brother or sister can go but *I* can't! Which prevents meltdowns as well.

After Pirates, we hop on the train that goes around the park so that I can at see the rest of the place before we high-tail it out of there in time to make it back for milk, cookies and storytime again. (Hey, we were given this perk. We're going to beat it until it falls down dead!) So aside from Pirates and the train, I figure that I truly haven't been "contaminated" by Disney. Yeah, I set foot in the place. But I was only there for an hour or so and that just doesn't count, now does it?

This night, we attempted to watch the fireworks show on the balcony, but it was abruptly cut short because of the way the wind was keeping the smoke in the wrong place. They said that if it blew over the freeway it had a bad habit of causing accidents so they stop before it reaches that point.

We stopped at the concierge desk just outside the club to try and plan out the next day at California Adventure. While there, we were let in on a little known secret of how to get into the park early and be able to have a private ride (no more than 15 people) on Soarin' Over California before anybody else is allowed in the park. Sweeeeet!

The next morning, we get to the secret meeting place early, and mark our territory and wait until the Disney cast member comes to collect us. We were joined only by another couple, so we entertained ourselves with some good chit-chat and watched all the other sheeple who weren't privvy to the secret get frustrated because California Adventure wasn't open yet. (Disneyland opens much earlier than California Adventure and opens even earlier for guests of the hotel. People seemed to think that that meant that California Adventure opened at the same time as well. It doesn't. Read your handouts from turndown service, people! Sheesh!) Eventually our cast member came and collected us and we were escorted into the park. Down the path and through the hangar doors we went, and we were in Soarin' Over California.

People, this ride is the BOMB. Very, very cool. It really does feel like you're in a glider going over these places. They did an excellent job on this. And we got the best seats! Whooo!

The rest of the day was just as good. We walked and walked and walked and walked. Used the fast-pass system like pros and managed to never wait in line for a ride longer than 10-15 minutes. I went on every ride that I wanted - including the big roller coaster. I did stay away from the very jerky rides, however. I wasn't up to testing my insides that much. We also went to the Aladdin stage show that they put on, and it was really, really good. The genie had updated lines (He bagged on Tom Cruise's lunacy - i.e. couch jumping, etc - at least two or three times for example) and was just as manic as Robin Williams was with the part.

Food wise, let's just say that protein didn't pass my lips very often. There was the corn dog, but I could barely eat the dog because it was way too spicy. Only get the hot link corn dog if you like searing your mouth with pepper. Go with the regular dog otherwise. The churros at the park were glorious. I'd take a small bite, let it melt going down, the girls would gobble up about half of the rest, I'd take a bite, and the girls would eat the rest of it. I had a bit of a hard time with the water because there is no such thing as a cup of ice in the park. So we kept buying the bottled water and I would drink until it got too warm for me even though it was still cold, and the girls or The Husband would finish it off.

Throughout the day, The Husband kept asking me if I needed to go back and take a nap. But I was feeling so good, I really didn't need one. However, by the time 4:30 rolled around, we were all pretty tired, so we decided to head back to the room for a quick nap before going back into California Adventure for our free dinner. When my head hit the pillow, the exhaustion just hit me like a ton of bricks and I was out like a light.

The Husband woke me up at 6 to get ready for dinner and I was like a walking dead man. As we made our way to the restauraunt, he kept looking at me and making sure that I was up to this. Hellfire, man! I need dinner! Foood! Feeeeeed meeeeee!

While we were waiting for dinner, we made the mistake of wandering over to one of the gift shops that are everywhere in these parks. In that shop they had a selection of the Disney Trading Pins as well as some of their starter pin sets. I don't know what came over me, but for some reason I decided that I Needed To Do This. *I* needed to trade pins with the hapless cast members that can't say no when I want one of their pins. All I can say is that Mickey Mouse stole my soul by breaking my vow and setting foot into Disneyland, and this was the result of my bringing this curse upon myself: Trading Pins. :::shudder:::

Unfortunately, this started a chain reaction with the girls wanting their own pin lanyards just like mommy and The Husband wanting to buy pins for his ladies. By the time we walked out of there, I had my own pin lanyard with it's four stock pins, plus about 7 other pins that The Husband had gotten for me. The girls had comparable ones as well. I don't even want to know how much this cost because it would probably make me throw up.

At dinner, The Husband and I should have just ordered one meal for the both of us, especially since we ordered the same thing - the fish and chips. It was the only thing that could have remotely been good for me in any way shape or form, and I only managed to eat one piece of fish and maybe two or three french fries. I also had a few spoonfulls of the chicken soup (way too salty) they brought for appetizer and two small spoonfulls of the peach cobbler (way too tasty for my good health) for dessert.

In the middle of eating, they announced that the Princesses were making their appearances for photos and autographs, and all the little girls went crazy. One by one they made their way around the room, stopping at all the tables, smiling their fake little Disney smiles and posing with those stupid little jazz hands that they do. Very sweet and cute for the girls, but OMG I just wanted it to end. Snow White, Belle, Jasmine, Mulan and Ariel all made appearances. I ended up taking a picture of The Husband with Belle just so that we can send it to his older brother. Apparently when Beauty and the Beast came out on tape the two of them watched it with their sister's kids and my brother-in-law whispered to The Husband and that he would "like one of those" referring to Belle. So, hah! Take that, older brother! Heee!

By the time everything was finished at the restaurant, it was getting close to storytime. As exhausted as I was, there was no way I could run back to the hotel, so I took all the stuff we had with us and told The Husband and the girls to make a dash for it, and that I would catch up with them. They apparently made it *just* in time and I managed to make it about halfway through. We stayed again for the fireworks, and this time we got to see the whole show. It was very good. The things they can do with fireworks nowadays is just amazing.

We get back to the room, and the girls are bouncing off the walls with energy still. I am so beat it's not even funny. The Husband makes an off-hand comment about going back into Disneyland and the girls JUMP all over it. He gives me the "Uh-oh!" look, but he did it to himself. Sorry, honey! So off they trudge again into the park. It's about 10:30 at night.

At approximately 1 in the morning, the three make it back to our room. The girls are decked out in Princess costumes - Thing One has chosen Aurora's pink dress (not the blue one!) and Thing Two is in Belle's yellow ballgown. Well, guess you guys have picked out your Halloween costumes, right? The Husband gives me a sheepish look and mumbles something about the Satanic music playing and about how he just wanted to make things special for them. All I can do is smile. This is further proof that Mickey Mouse has stolen my soul, Internet.

We all collapse into the sleep of the dead and don't wake up until about 9 the next morning. As we collect ourselves and our now greatly multiplied belongings (where did all this crap come from?) The Husband and I casually talk about the experience and how much we really liked it. We even started talking about coming back next year and doing it again. (Again, my soul is gone! Lost forever in the Disney abyss! :::sob:::)

The trip home only took two and a half hours including a stop at In-N-Out (one cheeseburger with no bun, please!). I was very relieved because if it had been any longer I think I would have had a conniption fit in the middle of gridlock on HWY 5. Now that I was finally out of the fiendish grip of Disney-mania, I felt my head clear. The fog (smog?) surrounding me lifted, and I no longer felt contaminated by the curse of Mickey and that all would be right in the world again. I was saved, and never again would I risk my soul for that little rodent again.

On Monday and back at work, I'm busily typing away when my phone rings. I give my standard hello and who praytell is on the other end of the line? None other than The Husband's Crew Chief, doing his Mickey Mouse imitation.

I hung up on him.

So, it wasn't my imagination

Last post? Where I waxed red over the DirecTV satelite? Yeah, it's actually for TV. They just installed ANOTHER satellite dish - this one for DirecWay - the same internet service I use. It's not like focking Ehn-Ehm-Si-Eye would allow them to tap into their precious T1 connection. Because they're not special enough or something. Feh. So now I'm half pissed off, half understanding.

Either way, at least it's not a $20,000 hammer, right?

And yes, I'm working on a post about this weekend. Mickey Mouse stole my soul and I want it back!

Your tax dollars at work!

At work, we've been needing a new building to expand into for a very long time. It would be a Very Good Thing if the technology was available to keep the Navy's airplanes up in the air and on top of things, right? So finally, Congress got off their asses and voted that yes, we can actually build this thing, thankyouverymuch. And there was much rejoicing!

So, they put up this fence (inside our existing fence) and blocked us from going in the front door of our building because the new building is being made in such a way that it will connect to the old building. This means that we have to walk about four times as far from our cars as we had to previously just to get to our desks. We get inconvenienced for the next year and a half while they build it. Sucks out loud, but what are ya gonna do, right? Space is space. I like space. Space is good. Space is wise. (Shut UP, Sarah!)

Anyway . . .

Construction hasn't started just yet because you would have heard me bitching about the noise level. But they have managed to put up a trailer for the construction folks to hang out in on breaks and such and to have some office space onsite. Normal, right? Nothing to be outraged about here.

I was walking to my car on the other side of the sparkly new fence that I mentioned above, when I noticed it. A satellite dish poking off the corner of the construction trailer. As I came up beside it, I could read what it said. DIRECTV. And that's when the red film crept over my eyes and I began to turn into a snarling and psychopathic beast from hell, much like how my little mini doxie turned into one here.

What in the FUCK are we paying $17 million dollars to this OUT OF TOWN contractor to build us a new building for if there is going to be SATELLITE TV for whomever to watch on the build site? Yes, people, your tax dollars at fucking work. Are they direct billing us for this, or does this go into the "overhead" category?

Then again, I should talk. Your tax dollars have paid for me to type this. I'm on my break. Really. I am. I swear!

First day back at work. Damn, I miss nap time already.

It's been a little over a month since I was last at my job and boy-howdy was it an unpleasant thing to come and find my poor little Outlook Inbox overflowing with all the crap and detrious e-mail that I have had to slog through. At least there was not a whole lot of voice-mail messages. Guess nobody really cares for me in that manner. Hee!

In my particular building, there are two gals who have had the RNY and both were really happy to see me. I know that they're going to be great support going out from here, and we will probably all end up exercising together to keep each other motivated.

Unfortunately I decided for lunch to have one of those tuna fish packages - you know, the ones that come with the crackers? Ooof. Crackers equals nasty bloating. Perhaps next time just one or two instead of all of them. Owie. Yeah. Overdoing it sucks right out loud. Just because you still have room doesn't mean you should eat it all.

Dinner tonight is going to rock, however. The Husband discovered on the back of one of our cans of refried beans an awesome recipie for a Chile Rellano Bake that we made up last night and was SO FREAKING AWESOME! And tons upon tons of protein. Mmmmmm!

For your pleasure, I give you the Chile Rellano Bake!

The day or morning before you make this, cook a pot rost or pork loin in a crock pot using green salsa for the liquid. Shred meat after completely cooking through.

Take one large can of refried beans and spread in the bottom of a 9X13 pan.
Top with shredded beef or pork.
Top that with shredded cheese (we used pepper jack).
Separate 6 eggs.
Whip egg whites until stiff peaks are formed. (Amaze your friends and family when you turn the bowl of whipped egg whites upside down completely to prove to them that yes, they are stiff peaks indeed! Thing One and Thing Two were properly appreciative of mommy's magic. Hee!)
Whisk egg yolks until blended, then fold gently into egg whites.
Fold in 6 tablespoons flour into egg mixture, stirring until just blended.
Fold in 1 can of diced green chiles.
Top casserole with half of egg/chile mixture.
Top again with more shredded cheese.
Top with rest of egg/chile mixture.

Bake at 375 for 30-40 minutes or until top is golden brown. Then DIG IN!

Month One - down 30 pounds and inches galore!

It's been one month since Dr. K removed over 80% of my stomach and re-routed my intestines, and all I can say is HOT DAMN!!!! I have lost 30 pounds (even though I've been down 33 pounds at one point) and currently weigh 285. And even better are the INCHES that I have lost. Four inches from my waist. Two inches on each of my upper arms. Five inches from my upper chest. Three inches from my hips. And the list goes on and on and on. It's fucking AWESOME! I can honestly say that I LOVE MY DS!

I won't lie to you though. The first few weeks are crappy. You have to learn what you can eat, how much you can eat, how quickly it can all come back up on you if you don't eat the right things. Ugh. I don't wish feelings like that on my worst enemy.

There were things that people didn't tell me about. Like the whole seepage issue. I was totally unprepared for that, and it completely grossed me out. One time when I was in the shower dealing with this issue (i.e. making it drain out) some tissue clumps came out as well and, well, I lost my lunch. In the shower. :::sigh::: I just was not prepared for this funky fluid to come out of me. Luckily, since Dr. K stuffed all that freaking gauze down me at my appointment last Monday that gaping hole in my body has begun to fill in and heal. There is little to no fluid coming out now, and I anticipate it may be completely healed over within two weeks. So, yay me!

Another thing that I was not prepared for is what I call the hunger monster. If I don't feed this tummy when it wants sustenance, OMG the monster that emerges is so not fun to deal with. So much for the no hunger pangs thing. Damn. It's insane.

As for food, there seems to be very few things that I can't eat from what I have tried. One current no-no that actually surprised me was mozarella cheese. But any other kind of cheese is just fine. Hrm. Wierd. Milk tastes very sweet to me, and as a result I don't want to drink it at all, which is kind of disappointing since one of my greatest pleasures is having a glass full of cold milk to drink down.

The smell of cooking fish completely grosses me out, but the actual taste isn't so bad at all. Fried chicken thighs are my main staple of food at the moment. Take off most of the breading and skin, and what's left behind is tender, delicious meat that I currently am obsessed with dipping in ranch dressing. Yum! Yogurt with some protein powder mixed in is damn good as far as I'm concerned. I also keep saying that I'm going to make up some deviled eggs but I have yet to get around to it. They just sound so good!

Oh. I can eat a whole crunchy taco from Taco Bell. It may take me a half hour, but by God I can eat that sucker! And chicken nuggets from McDonalds are good too, but I can't eat more than four or five of them at once. They're obviously not something I'm eating on a daily basis, but they made for good treats when out and about with the kids.

The one thing I haven't tried is bread. :::sigh::: I really crave a good English muffin right about now, but honestly I'm scared of it. I want to make a loaf of fresh bread and eat it toasted and slathered with butter. I think I'll wait another month before I try that. White flour scares me.

As for sweet things, well I just don't really have a taste for them at this point. I made a cheesecake and while I would have been previously foaming at the mouth about it, it sat in my refrigerator with only the children eating pieces of it. We had to throw it out because nobody would eat enough of it to make it go away. Pre-surgery? It wouldn't have lasted three days. So that's a good thing there.

I imagine I will eventually gain my sweet tooth back, but I think that with the knowledge that I *can* have a sweet here and there and that I don't have to deprive myself for the rest of my life, I'll be able to get a handle on having them - my huge trigger for eating sweets was always because I SHOULDN'T have them because I was just too fat to deserve having something that tasted that good. Then, too, is the issue of my eating food because I'm depressed or bored. If I'm able to re-route myself to better choices while I'm still in the honeymoon phase of this surgery, I think I will be prepared to face the next 20 years without overdoing it.

It's a good start, all things considered. I'm very pleased, and can't wait to see what happens next.

The Happiest Place on Earth meets The Husband

So, theoretically, we're supposed to be at Disneyland right about now. We were all packed and set to get on the road Thursday after The Husband came home from work.

This trip was kind of out of the blue. On Monday, The Husband made a fantastic set of reservations at the Disneyland Grand Hotel with all the bells and whistles so that the girls would get a time to remember. He was worried about getting reservations at this late of a date, but somehow he managed to pull it off. Or so he thought.

As he was coming home, The Husband picked up the mail. And it's a good thing he did, too. In it was a letter from Disneyland, confirming our reservations for SEPTEMBER 17-19. WTF?

Needless to say, the man was on the phone in a flash - nobody but nobody disappoints his girls this way. And what the hell was he doing all morning on Monday to try and make reservations for this weekend only to be told they were for next month? And not even on a weekend to boot?

After much intense conversation with the people at the reservation desk, he was told that they would call back after they checked the taped conversation from Monday. When they called back, they admitted their screwup - he DID say it was for this weekend and not for some time in September - and immediately began to bend over backwards and in various interesting poses in order to make it up to us.

There was no way that they could fit us in this weekend - if we hadn't gotten the letter, we would have gotten there, found there was no room and a blowup of gargantuan proportions would have happened. Seeing The Husband's head spin around like the Exorcist is not among my favorite things to watch happen, you know?

So instead, we will be leaving next Thursday. And we will be getting the royal treatment - comped meals, upgraded tickets, spa stuff for me (I just don't do Disneyland. Eeech.) and a significantly lighter bill than we would have had before.

Despite all the hassle, I'm pretty happy at the way things have turned out. It seems that the Happiest Place on Earth really does go the extra mile when they have wronged you. So kudos, Disney. I might start liking you again because of this. Bravo!

Damn the gremlins in the box!

Well, hello! It took a week longer than I anticipated to get back up online, but here we are! Brand new computer, upgraded satelite Internet and all that jazz. Whew!

I know that some of you were worried about me considering that I had this oh-my-god awful stinky stuff coming out of me and I was worried about infection. Well, ummm, it wasn't the huge problem my mind had made it out to be. Turns out that what I thought was *me* stinking actually turned out to be the maxi pad. I went to grab one on Saturday and lo and behold, the smell! It wasn't me! Halleluia!

My poor husband felt so bad. He just grabbed a box of ones that had odor neutralizers and it turns out that since my nose can smell a gnat farting (tm Dee), that neutralizer was the most heinous thing in the whole world. And adding moisture of any kind just made it worse. Ooof! I am now using simply absorbant pads and the difference is AMAZING! I actually smell clean!

Anyway, I went to see Dr. K yesterday for my one-month followup. I have lost a total of 30 pounds in 25 days. Holy cats! And today I currently weigh 282. I haven't been this weight for about a year and a half and I was at this weight for at least four years running. I actually feel normal right about now, seeing as how this was my normalcy for so long. It's a good feeling.

The only downer of the visit is that Dr. K actually enlarged the hole that I've been seeping from and pushed a ton of gauze deep down in there to wick stuff out. Owie. Gotta heal the wound properly, though. The seepage had been dwindling down so that's a good thing and now it can heal the way it needs to. But I think I'm going to be left looking like I have a bellybutton just underneath my breastbone with the way this is going to scar up. Oh well. When I get a tummy tuck, maybe it can be my new bellybutton. Hee!

Anyway, I have a funny story for y'all. Way back in May, The Husband and I started trying to refinance this dump of a house. Due to incompetence and a lot of stupid things, it took until the end of July to get the damn thing finalized. That's right. The week after my surgery, I was back home trying to get everything wrapped up for this. With morons running the game. For example, for loans regulated by the VA, you must have a termite inspection. A smart mortgage broker would have ordered one at the beginning of the process. Instead, it was ordered two days before our hopeful closing. Yeah. Two days. Real smart.

Of course, there are problems, and of course we were leaving to go somewhere so there was no real way for us to fix the problems properly, so we had to pay through the nose to get a faucet replaced. Ooof. Fifty dollars became $500.

Anyway, while the pest control guy came and was looking at the house, The Husband locked up the two big dogs - our Siberian Husky and Akita - because they could easily intimidate someone even though all they would do would be to lick them to death. But my little miniature dachshund was out and about, being her usual bouncy self and following The Husband around. As he was walking the pest control guy around, showing him the accesses and such, they remarked on the big dogs in the kennel, and why they were penned up. Then The Husband pointed at my little dog and uttered these fateful words:

"But it's THIS one that you really have to be worried about."

As if on cue, my little Jasmine turned from a sweet, tail-wagging doggie into a vicious, snarling and barking attack beast. Think Tazmanian devil come to life in a little 8-pound package of black and tan dog.

Both The Husband and the pest control guy jumped backwards, and nearly peed their pants.

The Husband was quite astounded at the transformation from angel to creature from the depths of hell, and to be honest, quite proud of the little bitch. After recovering from the shock, he called her name, and SNAP! Just like that Jasmine turned back into her normal wiggly worm doggie self, rolling over on the ground for her belly to be rubbed, and being the sweetest thing that ever walked the earth.

But that pest control guy never let her out of his sight after that. Just in case the sneak attack dog decided to take a chunk out of him.

Broken, but not forgotten

So, um, yeah. I've got broken things around the place. First and foremost is my 'puter. Goodness only knows when I was last able to access my e-mail and websites are a hit and miss these days. Hopefully by this time next week, I'll have a new desktop and things will be back to normal.

Also, I broke my scale. Hee! The Husband bought a brand spanking new scale for me to record my weight loss with. However, it was a cheap scale, and one that didn't like me standing on it with one foot while trying to keep my balance and not fall off. I busted the spring. D'oh! So, I have no idea how much more I'm down.

And *I* feel broken what with this seepage from one portion of my incision. Yeah, the office told me that it was normal, but having to literally "milk" it out of me in order to make sure I don't leak over everything just cannot be normal. And the stink! Oh my! Never mind that nobody else can smell it. But I can. :::shudder::: I'm calling back again tomorrow to see what I can do from over here. Ugh!

So, we'll take a small station identification break for my 'puter to get normalized and for me to get normalized and then all will be well in this snarky world.