The Creation Museum

There's a new museum opening up in Kentucky in May. I read about it in the latest issue of Discover magazine.
A group of creationists is dropping almost $30 million into this really high-tech building with a bunch of anamatronic scenes showing people living with dinosaurs and stuff. Charlie thought I was joking when I said I wanted to check it out. But I do.
In a way, I feel almost sorry for people like that. They get up every day and have to reconcile what they believe with what most other people think. They take the bible literally: the earth was created six thousand years ago; it was created in six days; god rested on the seventh day. I think it must be incredibly difficult to balance a love of science with a love of religion. The article was kind of insulting (very editorialized), but I still want to check it out.
Who knows, maybe I'll be convinced! (I won't.)


Body Update

Well, I officially don't know much more today than I did a week ago, other than having some new things to worry about. One thing's for sure: I am not pregnant. It was mostly a relief – with both of us planning on being back at IUPUI full time this fall, it could not have come at a worse time. We haven't even figured out health insurance yet, so Charlie would have had to stay at his job, not returned to school, and probably resented it. My friend Annie thinks, no matter what, we could have made it work and I think she's the most disappointed. But if it's gonna happen, it's gonna happen.

The doctor confirmed my suspicions – and brought up some new ones – when she started pressing around on my abdomen. I'm incredibly sensitive on the upper right side (which I didn't realize because all the pain and pressure is on the lower right side of my back). She said this is where my pancreas, gallbladder, and liver are.

The top contenders now are irritable bowel (the one, unfortunately, I'm hoping for), gallstones, or Hepatitis. That, I found out, is just an inflammation of the liver, which could be caused by something as simple as a virus or even taking Ibuprofen. Of which, since my wisdom teeth came out last year, I have taken a lot. The oral surgeon recommended I take 800mg whenever my teeth (or anything) hurt and I have. Frequently. For every headache, backache, you name it.

They took some blood samples in the lab and I'm scheduled for an ultrasound first thing Tuesday morning. You can't eat anything after midnight and the doctor wanted me to go in Monday but I knew I'd have to find someone to cover for me so I asked if I could do it the day after. Then, once I got home, I checked my schedule and saw that I was working Tuesday morning. So I had to switch shifts with Matt. Which means I have to be at work the next three mornings at seven and I have to be at St Vincent's Tuesday no later than 7:30am. In other words, getting up at six for four days in a row. Yuck.

I'll let you know more as info comes in.

Odds and Ends

At work the other morning a woman was singing at her table. The guy sitting with her had his hands cupped over his ears as if he was trying to block out the background noise and hear only her. She had a Bible open in front of her. I imagine she was singing stuff from it. I found this really odd and apparently so did some of our customers as they started to get up and move out the door, glancing at the couple over their shoulders as they left.

We have an herbal tea at work that I've been selling for over a year. I just realized tonight that I've been calling it the wrong name. It has the word “ginger” in the name and I've been saying “Georgia.” Which makes absolutely no sense.

I dropped my Spanish class on Mondays and Wednesdays and re-registered to take it this summer. I wish I didn't have to because I'd hoped to complete all my prerequisites before returning to IUPUI but I can't handle the constant barrage of homework for my online courses.

I have a three page research proposal due tomorrow. At the end of the semester we're supposed to have a 12+ research paper with sources and a literature review and all this . . . I started working on the proposal last week and basically wrote the paper. Now I have to start at the end and work backwards, which sucks. I wish I could just turn in the paper and be done with the class.

I finally watched “Little Miss Sunshine” and loved it. I knew I would. I don't know why it sat on my shelf for a month. I just never got around to it.

My back hurts.

Remember Bread Makers?

Remember when bread makers were all the rage but no one who had one ever used it but twice? I was just thinking about that.

In other news, I talked to the doctor. I have debated how much information I want to write about because then everyone on the InterWeb will know all my business. All three of you.

I have an appointment Friday morning. Chances are that my one positive test (I had one last Friday and three negatives thereafter) was probably a false positive due to the fact that I kept it in the bathroom, which you’re not supposed to do. It also may be that I was/am knocked up, but in the wrong place. She said with all the abdominal swelling, lower back pain, nausea, and vomiting I may have an ectopic (tubal) pregnancy. This is relatively common for people on birth control, who are overweight, and who smoke. It’s something I’ve considered over the past couple of days and if it turns out to be the case, I’m okay with it. I have no plans to have children, but I have to admit I was thinking “I’m going to be 32 this year. If it doesn’t happen now, it probably won’t ever happen.” Then I started looking up the prices of cribs and strollers and clothes and started to consider the years afterwards . . . I don’t like having the option taken away from me, but I also think that since my symptoms haven’t worsened too much, this might not even be the situation.

Of course, the doctor was hesitant to start diagnosing me over the phone, but we discussed some concerns related to gastrointestinal difficulties. The kinds of things that point to the gallbladder or IBS.

My best guess is that I’ve just had a combination of PMS and IBS. Although disgusting, it would mean no major surgery in the near future.

So that’s the news thus far. Nothing diagnosed. Could be no big deal. But chances that I’m going to be called “Mommy” any time soon are pretty slim.

Stephen on Bill

If you didn't catch the episode of “The Colbert Report” where Stephen interviewed Bill O'Reilly (aka “Papa Bear” to Stephen's character), don't. Instead, look up the video of Stephen being “interviewed” by O'Reilly on his own show (or just watch the crappy version I posted below).

I couldn't believe it. I've never seen O'Reilly so quiet. He just sort of watched as Stephen went on and on in character, but was clearly annoyed on both programs because Stephen either made a snide remark (on “The Colbert Report” he referenced the sex scandal Bill was in a couple of years ago – and the audience gasped), or because Colbert refused to break character on Bill's show. This obviously infuriated him. I doubt Bill O'Reilly is a good enough sport to have gone along with all of it and I doubt he enjoyed any of it. At one point he shouts “Which is it – Colbear or Colburt?!”

I also enjoyed Stephen saying “They criticize you for what you say, but never for how loud you say it. Or how long.” And the people on-set cracking up.

What's Going On in There?

For the past few days, if not a week or longer, I've been trying to ignore the fact that I'm nauseated in the morning. And the afternoon. And in the evenings. I have pretended like my boobs aren't incredibly tender and swollen, or that I feel super-bloated in a way I've never felt bloated before.
I have also tried to ignore my weird food cravings (Wednesday night I was positively drooling at the idea of having a cold, juicy orange), the fact that I get hot and cold really easily, or that I'm feeling tired a lot during the day, and that I've been especially moody. For example, at work last night, I felt like I wanted to cry for no reason a couple of different times. This is not usual for me. I'm not an overly emotional person, especially in public.

I'm hoping that I have the World's Worst Case of PMS or a mild stomach virus. Because all of these symptoms can be indicative of a number of other things, I'm trying not to worry too much. Otherwise, Charlie and I (and just about everyone we know) would be in for a really huge surprise. I still have several more days before I can make a definite assumption as to what's going on and am trying to tell my brain that it better not make my body do anything weird just because I'm paranoid.

¡Ay, Mi Estomago!

I made dinner again tonight. I've been trying to cook at home as much as possible, considering my schedule is quite the opposite of last semester; I'm now working almost exclusively mornings with just one evening per week.
Charlie says he needs to stop eating so many carbs, but to be honest, I don't know how to make much else. If I cook the meat and have to handle it raw, chances are I'm not going to be able to eat it and I'll be convinced it's still partially raw.
Either way, I made fettuccine in a pesto sauce, which was very easy to make. I cut up some fresh bread and brushed it with garlic and butter, chopped up a little cilantro, and put that in the broiler for a few minutes to toast. We also had a salad (all organic veggies) with a creamy caesar dressing I got at Sunflower Market today. Afterwards, we all had a mimosa (or two) thanks to a remaining bottle of a sparkling wine the owner of Cork's recommended to us for New Year's Eve. It's a bit sweet but not completely overpowering. I'm not a fan of really dry wines, esecially champagnes. This was great with orange juice.

I don't know what I'm going to make tomorrow but I want to try something really different. If I've got the balls.

To Defend Or Not to Defend

My Biology instructor's discussion board question for this week was whether or not we agree with animal testing. Uh oh. Everyone said the same, safe thing: “Not really okay for cosmetics, okay for medicine.” I and one other person said that, deep down, we don't think it's right, but there isn't anything we can do about it.

Someone actually tried to make an argument regarding a rat, my dad, and letting my dad die to save the rat. I pointed out that it's a logical fallacy meant to play on emotions. She got all offended and now she's been responding to all of my posts with ridiculous quesions like “Well, what do you suggest we do to test new medicines and surgical procedures?”

I debated as to whether or not I even wanted to answer her question. If I had prefaced my discussion board post with “I am a devout Christian who believes all animals are God's creatures and should be treated equally,” I firmly believe I would not been asked to defend my opinion.

My original post was just that I feel a dilemma when it comes to animal testing; it happens, I probably benefit in many ways from it, but I don't want it to happen. People take this in all sorts of ways, but mostly that I apparently would rather see a seven year old child die of cancer than one animal experimented on.
So I responded “What are the chances that one animal will save a person's life when millions have been experiemented on?”
So that girl says she highly doubts even a thousand animals have been tested on, which I found hilarious. I sent her some statistics from the National Cancer Institute. More like 300-400 million just for cancer research in the 1980s. She didn't like this.

Rather than respond to the information I gave her, she asked me to solve the problem. This is all fine and dandy to ask of someone who has left-of-center opinions. Whenever you appear to others to be “too liberal,” you are constantly asked to defend yourself and your beliefs.
I felt like saying, “Look, the assignment was to post a response to the question and then respond to at least two other posts. That's what I did. Get off my back.” But I didn't say that because it would be rude.

I really hate that progressive opinions are constantly questioned and demanded more explanations for when anything based on a religious belief is totally acceptable because the person “just has faith.” If I walked up to everyone driving a car with one of those Jesus fish things on it and just asked them over and over and over to explain to me what was going on with that belief, I'd probably get arrested for harrassing them. Eventually, they would feel they were being persecuted. But it's perfectly acceptable to do this to me because, apparently, I'm not allowed to just have an opinion; I have to back that opinion up with facts, figures, numbers, statistics, and evidence detailing how I came to that opinion. By the way, an opinion is defined as: “a personal belief or judgment that is not founded on proof or certainty.” Maybe I just have “faith” that I “think” I don't like it.

Now Hiring . . . Or Maybe Later

Do you know anyone who may be interested in a part time position working at my coffeeshop? I think someone's having problems and may not last much longer. It's not definite, but if it happens I'd like to be able to pass along an app or help out a friend of a friend rather than work with a 17 year-old who can only do evenings and weekends.
I've talked with Cavan about it a few different times, but I really don't want to refer him, have him get bored with it, and quit in three weeks. I think he's enjoying not working right now, anyway.
The hours are hard to get used to, but tips are good and so are perks. Probably looking for someone 15 or 20 hours per week.

Another Weekend Gone

I had my alarm set early this morning because I wanted to kick-start my homework. Right after it went off, I heard the front door open. Charlie was just getting home from work and it was after seven in the morning.
I have done my best to be supportive in his choice to return to working weekends at the club, but as one of their few reliable employees, he generally gets asked to take on more and more responsibility. First it was just Fridays and Saturdays, then the occasional front-door duty, then holidays (night before Thanksgiving, weekend before Christmas, New Year's Eve), and now they're asking him to take on assistant general manager duties “just every once in a while.”

After I left for work last Saturday morning around 5:45 am, I was shocked that my car wasn't parked on the street. I ran back in the house to check the spare bedroom (he likes to sleep in there so he doesn't wake me up since he gets in late and I leave really early), and he wasn't there. My walk to work was fueled by rage, fear, anxiety, worry, you name it.
My mind raced through a series of possibilities; he stayed late, got drunk, got pulled over, and is in jail; he went home with some girl; he was driving home and a drunk-driver hit him; he's passed out on the floor of the bar . . . I couldn't imagine where he could be.

When I got to work I finally just called his cell and left a message, telling him I was worried. I didn't expect to hear anything back, but he called me within a couple of minutes, saying he was just now pulling up in front of the house. His “closing duties” training had lasted a lot longer than he'd been told it would. Rather than getting off work around 2am, as the manager had insisted, Charlie didn't leave until almost six in the morning.
As much money as that place brings in a night, I guess I'm not surprised.

What surprised me was that the manager was able to talk him into giving it all “just one more try.” Which leads us to this morning; I was getting up as he came in the door. The sad thing is that we'd had plans for today. He's told me before that he has never once gone to the art museum. I looked up their Sunday hours on their Web site and we planned to head out around noon. Considering it's now 11am, and he's been asleep for, maybe, four hours, I am not going to go wake him up to see if he's still interested.
I imagine he might sleep till about one, feel like shit, and take a nap later. I have a meeting at four this afternoon, so that doesn't leave us much time to do lunch and the museum.

As usual, I have to be at work again tomorrow morning at seven, so I'll be in bed relatively early tonight. When you include my meeting, my working yesterday morning, and his working last night and Friday night, we might see one another a total of about five hours this weekend.

I know the whole reason he's doing all of this is because of the money. They offered him a lot to just work weekends so they'd have a regular “door guy.” They offered him about fifteen bucks more per hour to do the occasional close. I know he's been able to sock away enough for at least a semester and a half back at school and he's worried because he'll only have maybe a year left of the GI Bill, whereas he's got at least two years back at school to get his second Bachelor's.

I wish there was some realistic way we could both be in school without him working seven days a week just to save money. I'm struggling enough as it is just to take my gen-ed courses at Ivy Tech, so there isn't a whole lot I can do. And he swears I am under no circumstances allowed to quit school and get a full-time gig while he's in. I should get my first BA before he gets his second, he says, with which, somewhat guiltily (is that a word?), I agree.

I've offered to put some of my own financial aid toward his courses but he wants to do this on his own. As a result, we don't see one another all that much.
Our sixth wedding anniversary is next month and, while we had planned to go out of town since it's the Friday before President's Day and he gets a three-day weekend, I don't know how we could afford to do much.

I suppose it's just time to sacrifice more in an attempt to have more opportunities down the road.