I've been seeing this a lot. If something offends someone, the person offended wants the other person to cease. So whose rights are being violated here? The person offended by another's actions? Or the person minding their own business, living their life, but a life that doesn't "fit" someone else's view of correct? Why does my life offend anyone? If I choose to eat organic, and it offends you, I shouldn't have to hide by Horizon single-serve strawberry milk. Why does my milk have anything to do with you?!

Why don't people just quit taking everything they see personally? Of course, if I come up and insist that you should only drink organic milk too, then you have every reason to be offended. You also have every reason to tell me to get lost. Politely of course, no reason to be offensive.

So, if I'm going down the street drinking my organic strawberry milk, twirling my natural hemp necklace and wearing my faded Jesus Freak t-shirt, why does it bother you? I may not like it when you toss your cigarette butt onto the streets in my neighborhood, buy Big Gulps in styrofoam that won't degrade for at least 100 years and drive a 5 MPG Hummer, but I don't insist that you hide it because I'm offended. No. I would rather live my life as an example to others and quietly work toward those things that matter to me. I can't make them matter to you. But, if you see me in the store with my re-usable clothe grocery bag and you ask me what's wrong with paper or plastic, I'll tell you - politely of course.

NOTE: The Hummer in the picture is only green superficially speaking.

Running errands the other day, I stopped by to pick up my dry cleaning. As I'm paying I notice a jumpsuit hanging alone in the back of the store. Perhaps it was being prepared for the process or maybe it was just finished and not bagged yet. Who knows? The one thing I do know, it was covered in bright stones and glittery beads around the shoulders, cuffs and pant legs. The suit was snowy white and had a high collar that stood up without the need of starch.

I joked with the sales lady, "I see Elvis comes here too." She smiled but didn't respond. Hmmmm. Is she hiding something?

The weather this year has been crazy. You will be in shorts one day and shoveling your driveway the next. But when I got home from gymnastics class with the girls last Thursday, I couldn't believe how nice the weather was. I announced, "I'm grilling out!" to cheers from both girls. I had to spend a few minutes sprucing up Bruce All Meaty (my grill) for a new season. But, in no time I had corn on the side burner, broccoli in a foil pouch to steam, and cheesy grillers making those seducing sizzle sounds when the juice drips to the pan below. Mmmmmmm, tasty.

Unfortunately it is still way too cold to eat outside. We shivered while gulping down our meal before it got cold.

It's been nine days since I started the new Hormones & Bacon regime. I feel better every day, sleep better every night. It seems to really be doing the trick.

Today, the sun was out, the air was warm and me and the girls were sitting out on the front porch. I decided to sweep out the garage and tidy up the accumulations from winter. I was putting things in bags to go to Goodwill and wiping down months of dust from the recycle bins. Allyson pulled the toys, scooters, hula hoops and other assorted items away from the wall so I could sweep out the winter doldrums.

Once the floor was free of debris, I began putting things back in an orderly fashion. When I picked up the girls pogo stick, for some unexplainable reason, I decided to give it a try. One foot on the right side, hop, one foot on the left side, fall.

Yep, great big thud. I hit the concrete driveway on my right knee and took a pretty hard jolt to both wrists and elbows. My girls freaked. I was able to get myself up and into the house. I sat in my glider and put my feet up while Allyson and Sierra grabbed bags of ice for the assorted areas that hurt the most.

So let's rehash the events. Feeling better; little work; big mistake; feeling rotten.

In October of 2002, I had a hysterectomy. Due to severe endometriosis, they took my ovaries too. Since that time I have tried some different hormone replacement therapies. One after another would create adverse reactions. Generally, those reactions fell under the category of anxiety, severe mood swings, depression or aggression. My last trip to see my OB/GYN in May of 2006 resulted in her informing me that my reactions can't be from the medications. She suggested I see a psychiatrist.

When I left her office (yes, a her), I called my girlfriend and told her what happened. I asked her, "Do you think I need a shrink?"

She told me any woman home schooling her kids with a husband working out of the house could need a shrink now and then. But, I was still normal, considering normal is just a setting on the washing machine. She helped me feel better about it and expressed concern that my doctor would have talked to me that way.

Not wanting to be one of those people that is hard to get along with or one of those people who runs to someone else at the slightest hint of injury to ego, I decided I'd give her another chance. But, when my annual exam came due, I couldn't bring myself to go see her again. I thought I'd just put it off - a little while.

Over the next couple of years my health takes a downward turn. Most days I am in some form of pain from annoying to agonizing. Location could be anywhere, with typical points of interest in shoulders, knees, wrists, elbows and hips. I even have muscle pain as if I'd been through a grueling weight training session with the Hulk. But, exercise wasn't something I was doing. Many times it wasn't something I could do. Sleep escaped me since I could never be comfortable for more than 15 minutes. My weight increased and put more pressure on my deteriorating knees. I was generally miserable.

In February 2007 I was diagnosed with osteoarthritis in both knees and began a series of treadmill workouts and exercises in a warm therapy pool at Total Fitness in New Albany. My doctor there was great and the therapist I was assigned was kind and helpful. I regained a significant amount of mobility in my knees and should have used that to lose weight and improve my health. But, time and hormones had other things in mind.

In February of 2008 I worked a lock-in at my church. It was a two-day event with nearly 120 kids. It was tiring and busy, but not overly physical. I refrained from roller skating and wasn't in charge of chasing any of the kids personally, so I should have breezed right through. I didn't. The day after the lock-in I awoke to increased pain and stiffness. My right ankle was so painful, I considered how I might have sprained it during my sleep. The next three weeks were spent doing little, sitting lots, and taking percoset. God was allowing this problem, whatever it was, to kick my butt so I'd do something. Which is what I did... finally.

My husband has lived with this situation just as much as I have. He's been generally patient, seldom butting in and seldom giving me instructions or, out of annoyance, asking why I haven't "handled it" yet. But, one day I approached him about what he might think is going on with me since he is such a research nut. He did some digging and informed me, "Hormones and bacon."

I replied, "What?"

He calmly explained that he felt I had allowed my lack of hormone replacement the past two years to wreak havoc on my body. I needed to find a new OB/GYN and get on hormones immediately. I also needed to return to a low-carb diet (I had used one previously to lose weight and had felt immensely better as a side effect). "So," he says, "hormones and bacon."

I knew I couldn't return to my previous OB/GYN. I didn't feel I could trust her to truly listen and help me. I checked online to see who accepted my insurance and just chose someone at random. I call and set an appointment. When I see her I discover she works with bio-identical hormone replacement therapy. She listens intently to my list of complaints and tells me she believes I fit the profile for those women who cannot physically tolerate synthetic hormones. She prescribes a set of estrogen, progesterone and testosterone for me and suggests I begin a low carb diet. In other words, hormones and bacon.

My husband loves to be right. We all do really, but he really loves it. I was so happy to have found a great doctor who listened and offered hope, that I was happy to tell him he was right.

Has it worked? I began taking my new prescription a week ago. I felt better the very next day. Actually better. I'm able to squat in the floor and stand back up without the assistance of a chair back or counter ledge. I can bound up my stairs instead of pull myself up by the rail. I even curled up in a chair outside on the porch with my feet tucked up under me. I haven't done that in two years. And it's only been a week.

Am I cured? Of course not. First, there is no current cure for osteoarthritis. My knees will always give me a little trouble. Second, it's too soon to tell how much the new hormones and bacon regime with improve how I feel. My doctor advised me that I may still need an endocrinologist for other imbalances which could explain some of my pain. We'll have to wait and see. But, for now, I haven't felt this good in a long time. I'm encouraged and hopeful again.

I realize your immediate reaction is going to be, "What does buying a doll have to do with traveling?" Just keep reading and it will all become clear.

A couple of months ago, by oldest daughter, Sierra, became enamored of a particular American Girl doll. This doll, Nicki, was special because she, like my daughter, was very fond of animals. Nicki even worked with seeing eye dogs. Sierra wants to become a veterinarian one day so naturally felt a special kinship with this doll. A doll only available for a short time. Insert foreboding music here.

A plan was devised, probably by my youngest, Allyson. The girls set to doing extra chores and pooling all their money. I was actually quite proud of them. Not only were they working hard, they were working together. It was a big step in their sisterly bonding. It was a very unselfish act for Allyson, something she is not entirely apt to do when it comes to money.

This past Monday, I decide they are getting close enough to the total needed that I should probably go ahead and order the doll. I go online to the American Girl website. Here's what I found:



Ahhh... yes. Isn't it great when we can teach our young ones how hard work and unselfish sacrifice leads to absolutely nothing.

Anytime I want something I can get no where else, I check eBay, the world's largest yard sale. The Nicki doll, normally $87 from American Girl, is being sold for over $200 on eBay. I'm torn between hate for the obvious vultures and the realization that not thinking of these kinds of things first is the reason I'm not rich. Naturally, I go crying to my husband, Rob. Not a great time to be the guy. But, he's a calm sort and very patient with my emotional roller coaster personality. He says he will do whatever is necessary - even paying the exorbitant price people are trying to get on eBay for the now unavailable doll. What a great dad!

Later, it occurs to me that they might still have some in one of the three American Girl Place stores. I call. A very polite (especially for Christmas time) customer service rep informed me that they have 800 Nicki dolls in the Chicago store (the nearest one to us), but because of the limited availability, they do not take orders over the phone or put dolls on hold. I live five hours from Chicago. It's already too late to leave and get to the store before they close.

I tell my husband all this, and believe it or not, he agrees to rush to Chicago first thing the following morning. I call later that evening after the Chicago store has closed to see how many dolls are still on the shelves. The customer service rep answered the phone very politely - more polite than most customer service people anywhere, anytime. I asked, "Will you tell me if you have any Nicki dolls still available in the Chicago store?" He replies, "No." I snicker and ask, "'No', you won't tell me or 'No' there aren't any?" Can you guess the answer?

The following morning, the girls mention that they are so very close to having all the money they need. I have no choice but tell them. Days away from Christmas, I break the hearts of my hard-working, hopeful daughters.

I'm heartbroken myself. It seems as though time has been against me. I berate myself that I didn't call one day sooner. I nag myself in silence that I should have called earlier yesterday and we would have had time to rush up to Chicago before they closed. Then, breaking through the guilt and remorse, comes this still, small voice. My husband says, "Call again. There could have been a mistake."

Again, I get in contact with a very polite customer service representative for American Girl. Where do they find such nice people? This ones tells me there are still several hundred dolls in the Chicago store. To assuage my obvious, and rightly-so, skepticism, she calls the store directly while I hold. Yes! They have 600 dolls on the shelves.



We drop everything! It looks like a Three Stooges rerun of scampering children, barking dog and rushing parents. We literally hurl ourselves in our car and peel out of suburbia heading for Chicago at light speed. Two stress-weary parents, two children once again believing in Christmas miracles, and one dog, who would go anywhere just to be going bye-bye.

Since the trip was unplanned, we grab some cash at the local ATM and lunch at the local McDs, to be eaten in the car, before hitting the main interstate out of southern Indiana. It's a five hour trip to Chicago from where we live. We already know without having to consult Google Maps since we've made this homage to all things American Girl before.

The trip through southern Indiana is uneventful. We pass through places like Tanger Factory Outlet at Seymour and the nicer one at Edinburgh. Yes, I said it - Edinburgh is nicer. No stopping for shopping this trip. We're on a tight schedule. The girls thought fast and grabbed faster preparing themselves with GameBoys and iPods for the trip. These things kept them fairly content. Rob and I always take advantage of long car rides to catch up on all the things life doesn't leave us time to discuss - like the big house I want to build one day. So, all in all, the trip up was nice with the exception of all the rain.

During the drive from the southern-most tip of Indiana to the Great Lakes region, we watched the temperature outside drop from a "long-sleeves" 58 degrees to a "frost-bite on the dog's ears" 34 degrees. By the time we passed the last Starbucks before, what we call, No-Starbucks Land, I feared freezing rain. None came, though, and we arrived in Chicago safe and sound around rush hour. I realize that could be an oxymoron. No one is safe in Chicago at rush hour, but it really isn't that bad. Quick navigation through downtown to the Magnificent Mile and Rob is dropping us door-side in front of American Girl Place. The girls and I rushed in, dog in tow in her bag, to escape the rain and the temperatures. Rob drove on to find a parking garage and make the trek back to meet us. Not a great time to be the guy.

My girls knew, instinctively, where to go to find the much-anticipated Nicki doll. At first glance, there were none on the shelves. I'm still coming up the escalator, so I point to an American Girl associate. The girls descend on her like ravenous wolves at Texas Roadhouse. She delivers. And pleasantly. Where do they find these people?

So, we have the doll. Now what? Rob hasn't even made it back to the store from parking the car. To the girls delight, we look around. I even buy a couple things. Of course. No sooner than Rob arrives, we are ready to check out. He turns right around and walks 6 blocks back to get the car from the garage he only moments before paid $12 to park in. Not a great time to be the guy.

He calls when he's in front of the store so we can rush out through the rain and cold with minimum exposure. All safely, and warmly, and slightly more snugly tucked into the car, we head for home.

Tags: Chicago, American Girl

This past weekend, a very sad thing occurred. My husband's grandmother died. Now, she'd had a great life and certainly great family. She was not young, although no one really knew her exact age, so it wasn't a surprise. But, what was surprising and also sad was the things that happened that day on the way from the funeral home to the church.

My husband and I got in our car with our 2 daughters. We were told to keep our headlights on, run our emergency lights and proceed through intersections with caution, but to keep going just the same. Oh, and we had that "drive as you please" pass on our car top - the funeral flag.

We left the funeral home without incident. But, the first intersection we came to was a disaster. Several cars injected themselves into our procession. The one who cut in front of us proceeded to stop at the next red light directly cutting us off from the procession. Now, in defense of the thoughtless young men in front of us - they didn't have the "drive as you please" funeral flag on their car, so they had to stop at the red light.

We were stuck there behind their aging red car through 3 straight-ways, 2 left turn signals, and 1 long rant by my husband. Our procession drove out of sight. We didn't know where the church was. There was one vehicle behind us from our procession, so we pulled over as soon as it was safe to see if they knew the way to the church. They did.

To wrap things up, we made it on time and all was well. But, I really wonder where common courtesy has gone. It was a funeral procession. What could possibly be more important in the lives of those guys than was in the death of a great lady who deserved respect even to her entourage?

Tags: Funeral

My daughters and I signed up for a birdwatching expedition with some avid birders from our church. A birder is anyone who loves watching birds, whether searching the world for one more sighting to add to their collection, or from feeders in their own back yard.

We aren't actually what a person might think of as birders. Sure, we like birds. We watch some locals hawks. Yeah, mostly because we fear they'll swoop down and snatch up our little dog. But, we do like birds as much as the next person. We signed up, however, because we home school and are currently studying birds.

So, we prepare by looking up some of the birds we might see on our outing. We read about whooping cranes and sandhill cranes. We packed snacks and charged the camera. We bundled up expecting to be outdoors walking through the woods and crouching in small shrubs to await the sighting of the next winged miracle. We spent most of our time in a van.

Not that it was a bad thing. It was relaxing and easy. We traveled to Muscatatuck National Wildlife Refuge in Southern Indiana.

Tags: Birds, Birdwatching

Microwave Baked Potato Recipe

Step 1: Clean potato with water and scrub brush. (30 sec.)
Step 2: Poke holes in the potato with a fork. (30 sec.)
Step 3: Place the potato in the microwave on top of a folded paper towel. (1 min.)
Step 4: Cook on High for 8 minutes. (8 min.)
Step 5: When paper towel spontaneously combusts, open door and blow on flames. (30 sec.)
Step 6: Run for fire extinguisher. (30 sec.)
Step 7: Blast flaming potato with entire contents of fire extinguisher. (30 sec.)
Step 8: Stare in disbelief. (30 sec.)
Step 9: Open every window in the house. (10 min.)
Step 10: Clean everything in the entire kitchen. (2 hours, 38 minutes)
Enjoy!

Tags: Baked Potato

Not a veteran, but a veterinarian. A friend from church recommended someone and it all worked out. She works once a week and gets to handle all kinds of animals since this particular vet sees exotic animals. Sierra has had the chance to assist with birds of all kinds, a rat, and a chameleon. She gets to put slides under the microscope and look for signs of disease. He allows her to pull shots and help with other things in the office. She's really enjoying it.

Tags: Veterinarian