Pavlov's Dog

Okay, Pavlov's dog seriously had nothing on my 3-year-old.  I would have thought that once he got past the heavy teething stage, the drooling would slow up.  Not the case here.  Granted he is not constantly oozing at the mouth, and doesn't necessarily need to wear a bib all day, but there are certain circumstances that seem to bring on the slobber.

1.  Food or the discussion of food of any kind.  So talking about having lunch, and the drool starts.  Rip open a packet of "fruit" snacks and the drool comes without even mentioning treats.
2.  Distraction.  This is never me trying to distract him, it would be him distracting himself from the need to swallow his own spit.  So, while concentrating on playing with a toy - better hope all the toys are water-resistant.  Coloring - in case you didn't know, it gets pretty hard to draw on soaking wet paper with a crayon.  V-smile video game - I have to cross my fingers that the drool hits his shirt instead of landing on the screen.
3.  And finally... you may want to stop reading here if my discussion of boy in the bathroom bothers you... when we're peeing or pooping.  Oh yes.  Lots of concentration involved when using the potty.  So if he's peeing, then usually there's some drool hitting the potty too.  Actually, now that I think of it, there may be more drool than pee somedays - as he likes to look around while peeing which tends to keep the pee from hitting the mark.  And then there's the daily pooping.  He still likes some assistance for this activity, as it's terribly hard (apparently) to remember to tuck the penis down when you're very busy working on pooping.  So there I am, holding down his equipment while he holds his breath, turning red in the face - all while maintaining firm eye contact with me - and a stream of drool run off his pouty lip, past his shirt collar and straight onto my hand.

So sloppiness aside, what I can't figure out is how that boy doesn't get dehydrated.  I mean these are not small quantities of liquid escaping his body.  And what do we have in store with an influx of candy expected this weekend and Monday.  I'm going to have to pick up some more swiffer pads, or maybe I'll see if roomba makes a non-stop mopper.

Leptin, the little brother of Ghrelin

Okay, so yesterday I ranted about ghrelin and importance of enough sleep to make sure you ghrelin stays manageable.  Ghrelin is what lets you know that you are hungry.  Leptin is opposing force of ghrelin.  Sort of like a little brother, it is always in competition with ghrelin.  But leptin does oh so much more.  Years back I recall a study being done with mice that showed those mice who didn't produce enough leptin were obese, and almost overnight people were trying to figure out how to gives themselves some more to help with weight loss.  Here's what we are learning about leptin.  Leptin is a hormone produced in our fat cells (adipose) that signals the brain that we are satisfied.  Leptin tries to help us maintain a leaner figure.  So, the more fat cells we have, theoretically the more leptin we are producing and thus the more satisfied we should feel.  Leptin also sends out a signal when we are eating.  So ghrelin tells us we are hungry, we eat something, and leptin tells us we are satisfied.  Seems simple enough.  The problem comes when we eat too frequently and/or we have too much fat tissue.  It seems that putting out large amounts of leptin would help us to lose weight because we would constantly be telling that part of the brain that we are satified - this is why everyone was so excited when the research first came out with those obese mice.  The problem is that the satiety center of the brain gets tired of listening to leptin yelling at it, and it starts to desensitize.  I liken this to when my boys are screaming/whining about pretty much anything and I start to tune them out.  This doesn't stop the boys from doing it, and it doesn't stop leptin from doing it either but it does make it harder to sense that we are satisfied.  So you would think we could just overcome this by continuing to send the brain more signals.  But our body is a wonderfully, mysterious thing.  While leptin is screaming at our brain, it's also working to tell our pancreas that we don't need quite so much insulin.  After all, we need insulin to process any carbohydrate we just ate, and if we're telling the brain that we are satified, then theoretically there won't be more carbs coming in and thus there won't be a need for more insulin.  You would think this is harmless, however constantly telling our pancreas that we don't need more insulin just keeps it alert.  It would be like putting a pot on the stove instead of keeping it in the cupboard - it's ready to be used even though you haven't called upon it to heat something yet.  So when food does enter our system and needs insulin to allow for utilization of all that nice energy, our pancreas has been sitting there, chomping at the bit - ready for action!  At a moments notice, it overwhelms the system with a push of insulin in an attempt to drive that nice sugar (glucose from carbohydrate) into our cells.  Too bad all that fatty tissue around our bellies makes it harder for insulin to get the job done.  Ah well, we'll just produce some more insulin (hyperinsulinemia) to bring down our blood sugar (hyperglycemia) all the while telling leptin to respond more because we are really satisfied but having trouble sensing it.

Phew, I'm out of breath just thinking about it.  Our body really is miraculous in the ways it tries to keep us on track.  Too bad we are so pig-headed that we constantly feel the need to work against it.  So what does all this mumbo jumbo above mean?  In order for us to improve the sensitivity of our brain, we are going to have to cut down on some of that fatty tissue we carry around, and stop constantly encouraging our pancreas to pump out more insulin... in other words, how about a little exercise and maybe no snacking between meals??  Seriously, everytime you put food in your system you are activating this pathway - don't you think it could use a little down-time between meals?  And... stop looking for that quick fix.  I mean really, if you're looking for a quick way to satisfy that part of the brain that leptin works with, I've heard a little crack/cocaine will do the trick too (note, I do not advise use of crack/cocaine for dieting purposes, just maybe for a hard day at work - hahahaha, okay not for that either).

A little heavy reading (pun intended)

So I'm reading pages and pages of research articles that have been done in the realm of sleep, sleep deprivation, and ghrelin.  Ghrelin is a hormone secreted by your stomach that lets your body know that it needs to eat something.  Ghrelin is complimented by Leptin which tells your body you are satisfied.  Okay, so what have I found so far.  Well, we need approximately 7 hours of sleep each night.  No kidding, right?  Getting more sleep than that and you are at risk for being overweight/obese.  Getting less than that... same problem.  But it's not just a matter of crawling into bed 7 hours before you need to wake up in the morning.  You also need to be getting quality sleep.  Quality sleep means you drift frequently from the lighter stages of sleep (stage 1 and 2) to the deepest stage of sleep (REM - rapid eye movement).  How can you tell if you're doing this?  Well, I found an application for my smart phone that senses it if you really want to test yourself.  Or if you share your bed with a very light sleeper you could ask them if you toss and turn a lot.  Movement during sleep (unless you have a sleep disorder) indicates you are in the upper levels of sleep, whereas sleep paralysis happens in REM sleep (thus you move about as much as a big rock).  Okay, so if you are getting 7 hours of quality sleep, with nice sleep waves, then you are setting yourself up for a good day with normal levels of ghrelin.  What happens if you aren't getting a good night's sleep?  Well, first thing in the morning your ghrelin levels will be depressed.  So the lower the ghrelin levels are, the less internal encouragement you have to eat.  Which sounds great... however, mid-afternoon into the early evening these ghrelin levels will spike up.  A low ghrelin in the morning lends itself to a high level at the time of day when we have the hardest time denying our cravings. 

Oh, but it gets better.  Okay, so let's say you are doing a great job getting plenty of rest at night.  This generally means that you would be on track for a great day with ghrelin showing up at meal times letting you know you're hungry but not encouraging you to overdo it.  For this next scenario, we are going to assume that you have started a diet and exercise program so you can shed a few extra pounds.  You've lost a little and are feeling good.  Now Mr. Homeostasis seems to want to add in his opinion.  Homeostatis is the body's natural way of trying to "maintain".  It doesn't like change and it wants things to stay just as they are.  In order for this guy to maintain your weight, he kicks in ghrelin as a last ditch effort to make you put that weight back on.  Ghrelin tells you that you are ravenously hungry and need to eat eat eat!!!  Everytime I think about this, all I can say is "where the heck was homestasis when I was putting the weight on????" and why didn't he want me to stay lean?  No use thinking about it now.  Just need to remember this information when you are starting to lose some weight and want your efforts to continue.  I think if you're anticipating that little push of hunger (from ghrelin) then you can be better prepared to handle it, instead of throwing in the towel and hitting up that bag of Halloween candy.

Coming soon, I will fill you in on the dirty little secret of gender differences in weight gain in regards to ghrelin.  Dumb female body!!!  For now, just "digest" the sleep and ghrelin tid bit.  It's exhausting to think about it.  Almost makes me want to take a nap (but don't since it doesn't count towards your 7 hours at night).

Today's weather report brought to you by. . .

Forrest Gump.  Yesterday we were greeted with "little bitty stingin' rain", but today it's "big ol' fat rain".  Okay, so maybe we don't look as bad as Gump did in that puddle up to his chest, but certainly feels that way when it just rains, or drizzles for days and days in a row.  Now if tomorrow calls for the rain that comes straight up from underneath...

I love fall, but this isn't fall.  This some sort of sick step backwards to spring.  Everyone asks me if it rains here as much as "they" say.  And I always say it's more gray and just a little drizzle during certain parts of the year.  If this keeps up, though, I'm going to have to change my answer.

Parking Lot Etiquette

Parking was tight when we pulled in, but I left enough room on either side for the trucks parked there to get in and out.  We managed to get ourselves out of the trailblazer without touching anyone's vehicle, which is tough to do when you've got a sweet ghetto booty like mine.  So we picked up a few things at the cheap supermarket and we were making a stop at the car before heading across the lot to visit K-Mart, when I noticed a note on my windshield.  Someone who must have been parked near us saw a gentleman in the truck to our right throw his door into the side of our car and thought he would let me know the guys vehicle and license number.  I thought this was a very nice gesture.  Too bad the man who did the damage didn't feel the need to leave the note because he wouldn't have had to live the rest of his day with a guilty conscience.  For all he knew my car could have been a really sweet SUV, as opposed to a nicely polished pile of poop with about 4 layers of touch of paint in the same spot he scuffed. 

I had plenty of time to inspect the new eye sore on the car door as both the boys felt the need to drop their pants and pee in the parking lot.  My oldest went first and as he was wrapping up his river, he quickly pulled up his pants and bent over to pick something up.  Yup... candy.  He had spotted what looked like a green fruit snack in the parking lot and was about to give it some leniency with regards to the 5-second rule.  I guess since I've already begun to describe how disgusting little boys are you can easily imagine one of them thinking that it would be okay to eat the treat.  The picture below describes quite clearly why my cat-like reflexes kicked in and blocked him from snagging it.  What exactly was it that made him think this was a good choice?  Am I not feeding him enough?  Did the man who slammed his door into our car leave this here?  And did my 5-year-old honestly believe that just because the pee hadn't dribbled under the fruit snack that it was still a viable snack?

Dear LEGO Inventors,

I was just curious if it is possible to make a set that looks awesome to my 5 year yet does not take me 20 minutes to put together.  Today's sweet treat of an Optimus Prime LEGO man came with a chapter book of instructions on how to assemble this beast.  Naturally it did not go together in a way that allows Optimus to transform from autobot to truck, nope you have to take it apart and spend another lifetime rebuilding him as the truck if you so choose.  Because I live with an incredibly impatient 5 year old, he naturally was requesting we build him as the truck when I was about halfway through creating the autobot.  :( 

Ah Fresh Air

I love Autumn.  On a nice day, the air is so nice and crisp.  The leaves are all changing color and it just feels like you can breathe so deeply, while walking around in warm sweaters.  Yesterday we went to the pumpkin patch so the boys could pick out some pumpkins for carving purposes.  They also have a little hay maze for kids to run through, and farm animals to ogle.  I was looking at pictures of the boys from last year as compared to this year at the same farm.  Can't believe how much they've grown.  This year Grady was also not afraid of the animals.  Last year he shook with fear when he saw the baa baa black sheep, goat, and pigs.  This time around he didn't need to be held and was offering them his fingers as snacks.

Foster's Farm 2010

Foster's Farm 2011

Pumpkin Picking 2011

Pumpkin Picking 2010

What I also can't believe is how tiring it is to be outside.  I would have thought both these boys would have been snoring the whole way home from the farm, but instead it was me that was having a hard time keeping my eyes open.  Why is it like that?  Shouldn't being outside in the fresh air leave you energized?  I think I should have at least had the energy afterwards to carve the pumpkins we picked.  Ah well, now we have something to do today.

Would I do it again?

In a heartbeat.  Day 2 post op and despite some swelling I couldn't be happier.  My lower jaw/chin is pretty stiff which makes it a little hard to chew and to smile, but that will normalize soon enough.  I took a couple pictures so I could see that difference.  From the front my face currently appears a little longer and wider, but this is because of the swelling.  From the side, what a difference it has made to my profile.  You actually get to see a picture that I never before would have allowed to be seen by the public - because I disliked it so much.  It was kind of strange to go run a couple errands today, and to find that I did not feel the need to hide my profile.  I didn't try to make faces or to cock my head to one side to change the way my face was viewed.  I actually felt secure enough to allow people to see me from any angle.  It was a wonderful, incredibly confident feeling.  One that I haven't ever had in this regard.

Surgery

Surgery is done and I'm off to today to have a follow-up appointment with the doctor.  They will remove the compression tape that is still strapped to my chin.  It will be hard to tell for a few more days what the final look will be since there's still a fair amount of swelling.  It seems to be improving since I don't have twinges of pain when I purse my lips this morning, whereas yesterday I couldn't have used a straw if my life depended on it. 

Yesterday was pretty nerve-racking.  I've had surgery before to repair my broken nose - a few times - so I wasn't uncomfortable with the idea of being knocked out.  And I also was very comfortable with the surgeon after meeting with him a few times.  But this was the first time I had been knocked out since having my boys.  There's some sort of immortal feeling you have prior to starting a family.  It's that you feel like you can't be injured.  You are more willing to take certain risks.  And whether people recognize it, there is always a risk with a surgical procedure.  I recall starting to drift off when they were fixing my nose, thinking "please let this be the last time I have to do this, and I hope it goes great".  This time around, all I could think about was the possibility of not waking up!!  AHHH!!  As if that's what you want to be thinking about when you're going in for an elective procedure.  And how selfish would that be to have a cosmetic procedure done that then caused you to be missing from your children's lives??  I would love to take a peak at what my blood pressures were running as I was laying on that operating room table.  They must have been through the roof.  Tears rolling down my face, sniffling under the oxygen mask.  At first I think the nurse thought I was so upset because of the IV.  Legitimate thought since there are a lot of people who have trouble with needles.  I don't think they could have knocked me out fast enough once I told them what was running around in my head.  And the next thing I knew I was waking up.  No dreams in between.  You aren't really sleeping.  It's as if time stands still for a moment - one second you're finally drifting off on the table and the next moment you're groggily opening your eyes in the recovery room.  What do they call that, suspended animation?  Weird.  And wouldn't I love to be an observer in those recovery rooms.  I certainly have never been one to withold information.  In fact I'm pretty much an open book about anything.  But I don't know if the recovery room nurse needed to know that.  And I'm sure there are a lot more discreet/reserved people who find themselves waking up in those rooms just rambling on about all kinds of intimate details of their lives - embarassed later.  I told a friend, who is finishing up her bachelor's in nursing, that she should go into that realm and then maybe I could listen to some hilarious stories.  :)

So would I do it again?  Well, the recovery has been as easy as I could hope for.  I did not need the heavy pain killers that I snagged at the pharmacy.  Tylenol and some advil didn't completely take care of the pain, but they took the edge off.  I have a few more days of that regimen before the majority of the swelling will go down.  I won't be able to run for a couple weeks, which is hard to do without since it had finally become such a great routine, but worth it.  As for appearance, I honestly couldn't tell you what this artificial body part looks like.  It's still taped until lunch time today, and even then I don't know if it will show it's true form amongst the swelling.  In a few days I plan on taking a couple pictures of it, and for most people you will get to see a picture of my profile for the first time - which I have carefully hidden or burned any evidence of up until now.  It is a little strange to think about a strip of silicone sitting in my face, but I'm sure I will get used to it.  And I've become okay with the fact that I have altered something about my appearance that I didn't like.  As my sister told me, people come to her salon all the time to alter their appearance so she really doesn't look at this as being any different - just a little more permanent.

That's right, lit review . . .

... that was me that just rocked your world.  I bet you never saw it coming. 

You might want to picture me jumping around throwing punches in the air as I have just conquered an assignment that has been weighing on me all week.  For my master's program we have an option of doing a research project instead of writing a thesis.  Now, as interesting as writing a thesis about food recalls and 24-hour food diaries might be (bleh) I chose the research option.  It sounded really interesting and I love the idea of discovering something new that helps all kinds of people.  And bland writing about boring topics really makes me want to roll my eyes and leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

So one of the first classes I have is about setting up your research proposal.  Making sure you have an appropriate idea with measureable objectives.  And for this week, we needed to do a literature review to show what research had already been done, and identify an area of need.  Normally this would excite me.  However, I don't know exactly what I want to study.  It changes every week!!  So I had to pick one of the many topics I have an interest in.  Then I had to look up current research on the topic, and put it together in a short review which read like a story as opposed to a book report with lots of quotes.  Ick.  I didn't want to do it.  It's that first sentence that kills me.  That first one that gets the mental engine to turn over and gets the ideas flowing. 

But I did it.  That first sentence came pretty easily, and it was amazing how I was still staring at a basically blank word document, but my brain had already drawn lines from my research notes to the place in the review where they would just naturally fall into place.  It was as if I could see the whole review outlined in my brain and all I had to do was to just sit down and give my fingers a moment to put it together.  It's done!  And not to pat myself on the back (which I'm doing anyway), but I think I rocked it.  I think if I wanted to choose this for my topic,  I put together a fantastic case for the research's need.

Bring on the Scalpel

About a month ago I was talking with a friend about things that bother us about ourselves these days and that we would like to alter.  What struck me as interesting was how this has changed over the years.  Starting around adolescence and all the way up through early adulthood I definitely recall comparing myself to my friends and other girls.  One might have had bigger boobs, and I thought mine were too small.  Another one might have had pretty curly hair, and I was blessed with stick-straight hair.  I couldn't tell you when this changed.  At some point I no longer looked at what physical attributes others had and compared myself.  Instead as I grew more mature I could appreciate beauty in my friends and other women, without feeling like I was lacking just because I was different.  Small boobs?  Who cared anymore.  I mean big boobs just slapped you in the face if you went for a jog, whereas my little mosquito bites weren't likely to get out of control.  Curly hair?  Yes, still beautiful, but the straight mop on my head worked out great for the bedhead look.  So from the conversation with my friend I think we determined that once we hit that level of maturity where we are no longer in some form of competition with those around us, we start looking at changes we want to make to ourselves that are completely personal.  And what did I come up with for myself?  Well... it's something that has weighed on me since I was in 9th grade, and after a movie day with my boys where they asked to watch my wedding DVD over and over again, I decided it was time to do something about it.

When I was in 9th grade I got a couple extra adult teeth that I was not anticipating.  They broke through my gums in the wrong place.  This prompted a trip to the orthodontist for my braces consult.  The orthodontist said that he could correct the teeth but would not be able to fully correct my overbite because it was the result of a retrognathic jaw (upper jaw protrudes out and lower jaw does not come up and meet properly).  So off to the oral surgeon I went.  There I was told that in order to fix the problem, they would remove pieces of the upper jaw and screw it back together so that the lower jaw would meet correctly and if this did not fully correct my ... "abnormal, recessive chin then an implant could be put in."  Really, now what kind of doctor tells a girl in her adolescence that her face is abnormal???  We did not end up proceding with the surgery, but instead found a different orthodontist that used braces to align my teeth and fix the overbite (sort of).  I couldn't honestly tell you if I gave too much thought to the abnormal/recessive chin for a while after that as it was almost 20 years ago and I had a laundry list of other insecurities; but I never forgot those words. 

To this day I have never had anyone make a comment about my facial profile.  In fact everyone I mention my upcoming surgery to says they have never noticed anything or they think I'm crazy.  However, I never knowingly allow a profile picture to be taken of me and my husband constantly asks if everything is okay when my mouth is closed and he's looking at me from the side (because he thinks I'm pouting, when in fact that's just how my face looks) - talk about frustrating.  I don't like driving in the car because I know the passenger will be looking at me from the side if we have a conversation.  In fact, preparing for my wedding was nerve racking, because I knew that as I stood on the alter everyone in attendance would be seeing me from the side.  So this past summer, during our marathon session of watching my wedding DVD I suddenly realized that without him knowing how much my profile bothered me, my brother had managed to catch images of me from the side... repeatedly.  I love my wedding DVD.  It was an amazing day, and beautifully captured by my brother; but having to watch myself from the side with that profile I had loathed for years made my stomach turn.  When my husband returned home from work I was in tears at having to look at what image I was displaying to others routinely.  It didn't project the strong, secure image that I felt I gave from the front.  In fact I didn't feel like that profile fit with my personality at all.  After a long discussion with my husband, who thinks I'm beautiful no matter what, I made an appointment at a local cosmetic center.

So what happens next? Well, next Thursday I go under the knife. I'm beyond excited. They will make an incision in my chin, slide in an implant and stitch me up. My situation is further complicated by the fact that resting over my recessive chin is an overactive muscle. This means that when my mouth is closed, the muscle is active and noticeable. Can they correct this with surgery? Nope. The only fix for that is periodic botox - which I instantly declined. I mean if they make it so that muscle isn't active, then how could I possibly make the ridiculous faces that show up in most of the candid pictures people take of me?? I can't run or exercise for a couple weeks afterwards, which has me bummed because I was finally starting to take that bull by the horns. I also have to avoid full contact sports, or anything where you might get hit by accident - explain that one to my energetic boys. Put those two together - no exercise and no possibly injuring activities - and it looks like my husband who is due home soon from deployment will be sadly disappointed. But I soon will have a facial profile that mirrors the strong/dominant woman I am... no more of that recessive/weak crap. :)

Boys are disgusting

Okay, I'm shaking my head right now.  Are all boys as disgusting as my little monsters?  And at what point did they turn into such dirty little things? 

Right now they are on the couch playing with a refrigerator toy.  This thing asks them a question and then they push another button to record their answer.  After it's done recording, it plays back what they said.  Okay, so the question was "what do you do in the morning?".  Simple enough.  So they push the button and start rambling.  "I get up, I eat breakfast, I play with toys, I watch a show..." and I'm listening and thinking that all this sounds right.  But they keep going because they haven't said anything amusing enough yet, "...I pee in my pants and I poop in my underwear and my diaper my diaper my diaper..."!  Huh?  You would think my house was covered in nasty undergarments, but it's not.  And who is wearing a diaper that they are pooping in?  Is something only funny if it involves the words poop, penis or diaper?  I'm thinking yes.

The problem is this was just their dirty discussions.  On our walk home from school on Friday I observed my 5-year-old who was already all too familiar with the 5 second rule when you drop a fruit snack on the sidewalk.  Moments later he pulled his pants down to pee on some bushes and when some splattered and hit his hand, he felt the need to put those fingers in his mouth!!!  I was speechless.

I would have to say on a daily basis these boys perform some act that has me shaking my head and wondering where they come up with the ideas for their dirty games and disgusting actions.  I haven't ever peed on my hands and then put them in my mouth.  I certainly don't remember showing them how much fun it was to put a full roll of toilet paper in the potty and then ball up snowballs of it and throw them at the tub wall.  Certainly I must be getting paid back for something that my husband did as a child.  And everytime they do something nasty and then look at me and smile, their expressions look just like their Daddy's.

Frustrating Day

Today was a frustrating day.  I had spent the last month preparing for an open house for my business.  I really just wanted to have an occasion for people to come over, eat some food, socialize, and try out the products I've put so much work into creating.  I chose to have the event today because I wanted people to have time to settle down from the back-to-school rush.  I created an event on Facebook, because I felt like it was the easiest way to get the word out to people in this area (social media seems to be a prevalent means of communication here).  I invited the few people I knew, and asked them to pass the invite along to anyone else they thought would be interested.  13 people RSVP'd that they would come, and another 8 listed themselves as "maybe". 

With the date chosen and people indicating an interest, I knew I needed to get things in order.  I worked hard.  I created a catalog from scratch and had it professionally printed.  I meticulously assembled two dozen Pumpkin Creme Brulee pedicure sets.  I wrapped bath towels, and hand towels with raffia and placed them in wash basins so visitors could sit down and enjoy a personal pedicure while they chatted with friends.  I spent hours preparing products to have available for purchase and created a testing area where all the products could be tried out.  I cleaned for two days.  Prepared platters full of snacks.  As I look back on the month, I was busy getting things ready for today during any free moment that I was not taking care of my boys, or trying to complete work for my classes.

As I was putting food out this morning and brewing a pot of coffee, I chatted with a friend on Facebook who wanted to let me know that she wouldn't be able to make it.  Her inability to come was already assumed as she had just been blessed with a new baby boy 2 days ago, but I was grateful for the chance to hear from her and see how she was feeling.  The start of the Open House came.  The first guest to arrive was a close friend, and then another and another.  So was my day wonderful?  Of course, because I got to be surrounded by the company of three good friends whose love and support is unconditional.  We laughed and talked for hours.  But where was everyone else?  Where were all these other people who said they were coming, that I had prepared special items for?  Was this personal?  Why did my inner-self not allow me to do this to others when clearly they had no problem doing it to me?  Even though it may not have been done intentionally to hurt me, it certainly did hurt me.  Wasn't I worthy of a message to let me know that something had come up? 

Today made me wish for my friends from Maine.  I absolutely love the few close friends that I have made here in Washington, but why has it been such a struggle to find these loving and genuine people?  The kind that would drop anything to be somewhere for you.  Why does there seem to be such a large population of people that do not consider trustworthiness and dependability to be precious character traits?  Is it something that comes with age?  No, I can't believe that because a close friend who moved away months ago had a truckload of character and she was only 25.  Tomorrow I will feel better and I will start developing my next business plan (since clearly an Open House won't work), but tonight... after all the work that I put into today's flop... I think I've earned the right to curl up in a ball and be sad for a while.