Happy Halloween!

For this Halloween, I went the inexpensive route (we're trying to save some money this year). I think my whole costume cost me $5. I decided I was going to be a zombie because I had never really been anything ghoulish before, but I found suggestions that I should be a zombie with a theme. So I chose to be "school-girl zombie!" I ripped up a skirt and button down shirt I haven't worn in years, and are, in fact, a bit too large for me. I painted them up with slashes of green and brown and red acrylic paints I bought at Wal-Mart to make salt-dough Christmas ornaments last year (that did not turn out so well...) but have come in handy for so many other things! I dusted the skirt with flour to simulate grave dust.

I bought a cheap pair of fishnets and three tubes of costume make-up at Wal-Mart (hence the $5). I went a little wild with the blood, but it was fun. I dusted over the make-up with regular cosmetics and flour down my arms and over my neck and chest to set the cream. Stuck a few strands of faux grass nipped from a vase display to stick in my hair, which I also dusted with flour. When I got to the party, my brother and sister in law had some fake cockroaches, so I slipped them in my fishnets to make them look like they were crawling up my legs for extra creep factor.

I made myself a prop leg to carry around. I filled an old sock with crumpled paper bags, a pickle jar, and half a Tim Horton's coffee cup painted red and stuffed at the top with red-painted polyfil (the fluff you find in plushies). Then I glued a milk cap and a piece of Styrofoam to be the bones. I stuck bits of rice and black beads for maggots and spiders and carried my leg around for a little zombie snack piece. 

I made three dishes to bring to the party. I tried my hand at making brain cupcakes with butter-cream frosting, but only had enough for half the cupcakes and the brains were squished by the saran wrap by the time they made the journey anyway. They were drizzled with maraschino cherry juice. The other cupcakes I decorated as "innards" with red cake frosting, bits of licorice, and topped with a maraschino cherry. I drizzled some red food coloring on caramel apple rice cakes (dried brain slices) and laced them with shoestring licorice (spiced tendon strings). Then I made deviled eggs and colored the filling with green, purple, and orange food coloring (and left part of the batch yellow). I topped each one with a black or green olive slice for an eye with a dash of pimento for a pupil and called it "Eye of Newt." I also happened upon "body part" gummy candies and filled our cauldron with gummy eyeballs, ears, and teeth!

My in-law siblings had a slaughterhouse theme going and it looked amazing. They made some BBQ "bat" wings, (crisped flesh) chips with (guts) salsa, vegetables (because even monsters need their vitamins), and spider cookies and puffed wheat bars. We had FANG-gria (sangria) to drink!

A Touching Story: Furry Unexpected Motherhood

This is one of the best "fluff" emails I have ever received. I normally don't really care for a lot of "fluff," "pass it on" type of emails that have endless forwards attached to them, but this one was so adorable, it touched me. 

"PORK CHOPS?"



In a zoo in California , a mother tiger gave birth to a rare set of triplet tiger cubs. Unfortunately, due to complications in the pregnancy, the cubs were born prematurely and due to their tiny size, they died shortly after birth.

The mother tiger after recovering from the delivery, suddenly started to decline in health, although physically she was fine. The veterinarians felt that the loss of her litter had caused the tigress to fall into a depression. The doctors decided that if the tigress could surrogate another mother's cub's, perhaps she would improve.

After checking with many other zoos across the country, the depressing news was that there were no tiger cubs of the right age to introduce to the mourning mother. The veterinarians decided to try something that had never been tried in a zoo environment. Sometimes a mother of one species, will take on the care of a different species. The only 'orphans' that could be found quickly, were a litter of weanling pigs. The zoo keepers and vets wrapped the piglets in tiger skin and placed the babies around the mother tiger. Would they become cubs or pork chops?

Take a look...






Now, please tell me one more time...

Why can't the rest of the world get along?

Oh What a Long, Strange Journey It's Been

Many of you probably know that I've been struggling with clinical depression and generalized anxiety disorder for most of my adult life. It's been a continuous series of risings and fallings, with subsequent falls a bit deeper, or perhaps more serious, than the previous falls. I went through a period in my young life where I expected someone to "cure" me -- with either drugs, therapy, or a combination thereof -- and if they couldn't, there was a part of me that labeled them either incompetent or myself a lost cause.

I medicated myself with food. Food was my drug; I literally could eat a piece of chocolate and experience a little burst of happy feelings. If I had a craving and I satisfied it, there was a little thrill of satisfaction and a sense of calmness. Of course, that does not last. Guilt has always been a strongly embedded feeling in my life -- even what has been labeled "inappropriate guilt" -- and then followed the self-loathing. So what does an addict do when a high wears off? They run right back to the substance -- and for me, that was food.

Weight loss surgery did NOT solve all my problems. It did not even solve all my health problems. I don't regret my surgery, because it forced me to face my addiction and uncovered psychological issues I was not dealing with appropriately... I wasn't even recognizing them, in fact. An unexpected result of the surgery was the sudden cease of the calm, happy feeling I got from food I craved. Sure the chocolate is pretty good still, but there's no longer any effect in my mood. That was quite a blow. For the first time I realized food HAD been making me "high," and then I also was confronted with the sudden loss of that comfort. And then anxiety hit me full in the face and that was also something I had not foreseen.

Add other major life changes that happened within a year or two: a new marriage, an addiction to an online role-playing game, immigrating to another country (which inherently carried the inability to work), and I was ripe for a Great Big Fall. My anxiety was manifesting in debilitating physical symptoms: excruciating, frequent migraines; jaw, neck, and shoulder muscle tension to the point where it felt like seizing cramps; gastritis and other stomach issues caused by stress and made more likely to happen by the surgery itself. I sought help, which in and of itself added a new financial strain.

But I was no longer capable of functioning the way I was. In a period of nearly a year, my recovery has been remarkable. I have become more self-aware, and still make it a point to continuously evaluate my thoughts and behavior without falling into negative thought loops. I was more open to therapy than I have been in the past, and I was more patient with the medication and its periods of adjustments in dosage and type until we found what seems to work for me. I know that I'm not "cured." This will always be a life-long battle. But I finally feel like I am not starting with nothing, that I have tools to help myself.

Motivation is still a struggle for me, and probably always will be a problem for me. I almost always have initial anxiety before an appointment or a meeting or even a party, which is magnified if it's in a location I've never been to before. But I find that if I power through it, I usually feel much better for it. I still want to work on self-motivating and becoming more healthy all around. I'm eating better but I'd still like to find an exercise program I can commit toward. That's the one thing -- exercise -- that my brain seems to keep digging its heels in on, so to speak, and I'm not sure what the great aversion is for me.

I hear sometimes friends echo some of the feelings I felt toward the front end of my journey, and I hope that my own experience can lend them some hope. I never thought a year ago that I could ever get better. I thought that perhaps I was just broken, that there was something wrong with me, that I was made different than everyone else. I thought that I would never see past my pain. It might sound awfully self-consuming to people who don't experience these types of illnesses, but when you are emotionally and physically in pain constantly, devastated constantly, barely able to function... when getting out of bed and putting on your clothes feels like a chore akin to painting ten houses in two hours... and not only that, but you sense what a burden you are to those around you and you just can't help it, it's not just a matter of get your lazy butt up and do it. It takes tools and time and effort in a more steady, manageable pace.

It does get better, but you do have to put one foot forward, ask for help, and be open to receiving that help without embarrassment. You would not be embarrassed if you had cancer. You would not be embarrassed if you had to wear glasses because you had an astigmatism. Why should you be embarrassed because nature did not equip your brain with the appropriate chemical makeup you need? Why should you be embarrassed that your personal traumas have hurt you in places people can't observe by just looking at you any more than if a car accident broke your arm, and now you need therapy?

I read a book that said that people with disorders like depression, anxiety, ADHD, etc tend to find a partner who has some or all of the same disorders subconsciously, perhaps because they find understanding in that partner or behaviors/personalities in common. If that's the case (and these disorders are largely genetically-based) then the rising occurrence in diagnoses of these disorders makes absolute sense.

You CAN change your life. Asking for help isn't weakness and it isn't cause for embarrassment. It is the first effort you can make, the first step of many steps that will lessen the burden, the isolation, and the pain.

Love: Spontaneous Passion or Caring Effort?

This is a discussion that some friends and I have had, for which no one seemed to have a solid answer. Should love be that "feeling" -- that passionate, thought-consuming, consistently affectionate, romantic, whirlwind of emotion? Or is love a caring companionship where things like passion and romance are carefully cultivated and require a conscious effort? Can it be both?

I believe that the intensity of love as a romantic feeling is an initial attraction and connection that leads to a deeper, more mature aspect of love. I do think you lose the effortless component of love over time. I think relationships evolve into comfortable, familial companionship where romance and passion become part of the work, part of the effort of maintaining the relationship's health. There should always be an element of deep caring involved, of course, but I think that when people find themselves having to work for passion, they fear it's the end of the relationship. I don't think that's true.

Like anything in life, a relationship, a marriage, takes work regardless of feelings. There is always somewhere to improve -- communication, romance, quality time, etc. -- but the foundation of it is a deeply caring friendship, and I think that's where true love lies. To me, true love is not whirlwind emotion, but a constant ally. True love isn't so much a feeling as a bond, regardless of the feelings of the moment.

I have heard that the divorce rate is now at 54%. I feel you have to earn your way out of a marriage. If a partner is adamantly no longer willing to put forth any effort into the relationship, and you have done all you can, only then does divorce become an option (except in the case of the three A's - adultery, alcoholism, and abuse). But even the three A's can be overcome, as long as there is EFFORT willing to be made (and obviously drastic and permanent change on the part of the offending partner). I think that's what it all comes down to in a relationship -- are you willing to put in the work to reap the reward?

I'm still surprised at how many people -- regardless of age -- think the basis of marriage is those "good feelings." I'm not an expert by any means, but it seems to me that relying on good feelings is like building a house on a foundation of sand.

Happy Hooking: Crochet and Other Crafts

I've taken up crochet, which I've been developing over the last month or so. I find it is a really powerful anti-anxiety tool for myself, and it also keeps me from snacking on empty calories while watching TV. I also look forward to making homemade gifts, which mean so much to me because of the amount of time and thought and love invested into them.

The red and black garment is a scarf I made in Nebraska Husker colors, one of my first projects. I also made a sage-colored, ridged, skinny scarf, another one of my first projects, done in a bulkier yarn. I recently finished a lavender, purple, and white wide block scarf; and am currently working on the cranberry, hunter green, and green medley bulky yarn scarf. I also crocheted a pair of pot-holders with pockets for your hands.

The other two images are decorative wreaths. The black feathery one is a Halloween wreath made with two feather boas, Styrofoam circles, and plastic googly eyes. The other is a Thanksgiving wreath made with raffia, pieces of plastic wheat sheaves, crocheted pumpkins and a crocheted turkey.

All of the above items came from patterns I found on the internet or in books, some altered slightly to my tastes. I'm really enjoying my new hobby!

Autumn Brings Changes

Autumn is my favorite time of year. I thoroughly enjoy the beauty of the leaves changing color, the tinge of crisp air that isn't nearly cold, but enough to indulge in a snuggle-soft sweater. Halloween brings a mystique all its own; the opportunity for adults to play nearly as much as the children do, and to remember the awe of the holiday when we were children ourselves.

And here I find myself with a foot in two countries, and somehow, it's not nearly as stress-charged for me as I once felt. Not too long ago I felt as though I belonged in neither "home" -- that I fit in perfectly on neither side, and that was frightening -- but gradually I grew to have two "homes." There's a certain unique feeling to be straddling both borders, especially when there are so many similarities and subtle differences between the two. I revel in both the same and the different, and it gives me a perspective I never would have had would I have stayed indefinitely in my hometown. I definitely feel that the situation, although at times tremendously difficult, has been amazingly enlightening.

It's never perfect. And there is always someone to miss no matter which side I am living. But there is a freedom inherent in having either option open to me. It offers new opportunities for adventures, to ever turn a new leaf, to ever have a new beginning, or perhaps a renewed beginning. And to me, who thrives on variety and the ever-turning new leaf, it fits somehow.