Inner Fat Girl

Proof That I Fail at Life: Pinterest

2012-02-14T13:11:00.000-06:00

For the past month or so, I've been obsessed with Pinterest. By browsing through this never ending catalog, I've managed to mentally organize every future house I will ever own. My imaginary children live in gorgeous rooms and have intricate treehouses in our perfectly manicured pretend yard. I have art projects planned for these children from birth to their teen years. And I know how to store these projects. Or laminate them. No biggie, I'm set.

Every party I will ever throw is planned, from decorations to appetizers to favors to games to desserts. Oh, and invitations because for the ladies and gentlemen of Pinterest, Facebook events just doesn't do it. I know now to present friends turning 40 with a bouquet of lollipops and a card that says "Forty Sucks." I am a better person all because of Pinterest.

But...

Pinterest has shown me how much I stink at life. I do pretty well with the organization section. Nobody labels a box better than me. Cooking? Mostly I have that covered. When I get to the section where people take pictures of their outfits and accessories, though...

Just to give you guys a visual, I've prepared two pins of outfits I wore last week.

Compare that to a random pin I found.

Yikes. I have a long way to go to get to that level of pulling-myself-together-itude.

In my defense, the only time I get out these days is for rehab, but still. This has been going on since high school where I would wear pajama bottoms to school almost daily. In college, one of my dorm neighbors threatened to burn the plastic shoes I had purchased at Walgreens and wore almost daily. This lack of fashion sense is not a new thing.

I'm going to work on it. I'll keep you guys posted. Maybe as I start learning to furnish and accessorize my house, I'll figure out how to spruce myself up too. I don't think it could get much worse.

Oh, but the pet section of Pinterest always makes me feel better.

Um, except I call Cooper forty times before he even turns his head in my direction.

Curse you, Pinterest! You're ruining my self-esteem!

Help! I'm Having a Decorating Emergency!

2012-02-09T15:56:00.000-06:00

When I told one of my dear cousins that I was no longer buying the short sale house because the bank counter-offered for 20% more than the original asking price, she was appalled.

"Why not? You have the money... you're obviously not spending it on clothes."

Ouch.

Then, when my offer was accepted on the other house and I texted her, positively giddy with excitement, she wrote back, "Good. For god's sake, hire a decorator."

Double ouch.

(Side note: my cousin isn't a TOTAL bitch. She is actually just extremely funny and she knows I'm not sensitive). (I think).

So, I can't hire a decorator because I am not currently appearing on "Real Housewives of Suburban Chicago." The problem is that I am moving from my 800 square foot condo into a five bedroom house. Not only that, I am the anti-hoarder and my tiny condo wasn't exactly filled to the brim with furniture.

My mom used to say that she had seen hotel rooms with more personality than my condo. Actually I don't think she said that, but let's go with it. It sounds very "Mommy Dearest."

So, basically, I've bought some new furniture, but I still need help. How did you guys furnish your houses/apartments/dorms? Where did you get stuff like rugs, side tables, and fancy stuff to sit on surfaces and look homey? How did you figure out what to hang on all the walls? Did I miss the day in high school where people learned how to coordinate stuff? I bet it was the same day you guys all learned the Electric Slide.

(Side note: remember how sick you guys got of me talking about my stupid hip? You haven't seen ANYTHING yet. Welcome to House Blog 2012).

The good news is that there are a lot of built-ins in this new house, which makes it a little easier for me.

I just wish the old owners would leave every single stick of furniture and all of their decorating crap behind because I'm overwhelmed.

So in summary, please comment with websites, stores, tips, tricks, links, Pinterest boards, etc etc. I would appreciate it very much. I don't want to have to call HGTV and have them send over that one chick who hangs chandeliers in laundry rooms and throws glitter at walls. My cousin would definitely not approve.

I've Neglected You Again, Internet

2012-02-07T20:36:00.000-06:00

Look who beautiful goddaughter Jamie Cakes met at Carsons the other day! Justin Bieber. They seemed to get along really well, but my recollection might be slightly tainted by my painkiller-addled brain.

Let's see. The big house purchase is going as scheduled. Fingers crossed I will be moving out of my parents' house in seven weeks. As George Michael would say, "Freedom!"

My sister Kerry surprised the holy heck out of me by purchasing me a couch. I was completely blown away by this and didn't even know how to thank her. The next day, that feeling had worn off a little and I asked her to move. "Uh uh uh, you can't be nasty after I made it rain last night."

She has a way with words.

Cooper looks stoned in this picture. If he starts hacky-sacking and playing Ultimate Frisbee, I am going to worry about him.

I've been moving much better, barely limping when I walk. This week I was even cleared to DRIVE!!! I had one glorious day behind the wheel and then got it ripped away. I've been in some major pain and the surgeon has decided I should take it easy for a week with no rehab. I tried to make me go to rehab, they said no, no, no. (Too soon?)

Hopefully this is just a bump in the road and it'll clear up soon. I really feel like I've been making great strides.

I've been cooking a lot lately too! Check these out.

The top is Vegan Sourdough Bread Lasagna and the bottom one is Hasselback potatoes. They look really pretty and delicious, don't they? Problem: they weren't. You can't win them all.

I am also addicted to Pinterest and if you want an invite, just ask me.

I found this on Pinterest this morning and loved it.

House of (Diminishing) Pain

2012-01-23T10:09:00.000-06:00

Rehab is going really well and my leg is beginning to feel like it's on its way back to normal. This weekend I got into a fight with one of my sisters and I stomped off in a huff without crutches. As I was gathering my composure, I got all excited that my ability to flounce and stomp is on its way to being restored! That's good news for any drama queen.

I'm going to see my physical therapist three times a week and I'm rehabbing slowly at the gym on most other days. I still can only do 1.3 miles an hour on the treadmill for ten minutes and then ten minutes of no resistance on the bike. This recovery is truly a baby steps kind of thing, so don't expect me to be doing any triathlons in the next month or two.

Not being able to drive is killing me, though. Four weeks and two days.

In more exciting and better news, this weekend I bought a house!

I am so in love with it and it still hasn't really hit me that one day I'll be living in it! I won't move in until the end of March, which gives me a lot of time to practice going up steps.

It's funny to think about how devastated I was when the deal fell through on the last house I tried to buy. This place blows that house right out of the water.

It's really great to have something to look forward to again.

Of course, you'll all be invited over for margaritas on the back porch.

SOPA in Your Mouth

2012-01-18T14:38:00.000-06:00

Please sign this petition. It's important.

Happy Happy Joy Joy

2012-01-13T10:58:00.000-06:00

The little victories in life can sometimes be the most sweet. If that's the case, then my life is double sugar coated with a chocolate shell right now. On Wednesday, I had an appointment with the hip surgeon and now I can officially sit!!

I can't even tell you how wonderful it is. It seems like such a crazy thing to celebrate because I know I never gave a second thought about sitting before, but when I sat down at the reception desk to make my next appointment, I seriously had tears in my eyes. (Yes, there is a small chance I am also a drama queen, which I'm sure shocks no one.)

My hip is healing great. I'm cleared to ride an exercise bike with no resistance and to walk on a treadmill at ONE MILE AN HOUR while holding on to the sides. This makes rehab three times a week a lot more exciting. For the last six weeks, my exercises have been stuff like squeezing my butt cheeks together and wiggling my toes, so now I feel like an Olympic athlete.

I also moved to only using one crutch. Putting weight on my right leg is hilarious because it is so weak from not using it. I feel like I got a leg transplant from an eight year old or something. I'm still a little shaky on my feet but that's no big deal because I can always SIT DOWN and rest for a few minutes. Ahh, precious precious sitting, how I missed thee.

Driving is still out for six weeks or more, so that's kind of a bummer, but it feels so great to be able to make my own breakfast and eat it at the kitchen table instead of lying flat in bed. Little victories, I've had a bunch of them in the last two days and that feels great.

Oh, also, the weather gods apparently love me a lot.

We finally got snow on Thursday, one day after I got one crutch removed from my life. This is super late in the year for Chicago to have measurable snow, and I am convinced it's all because of me. The weather gods knew that I'd fall on my butt again with any kind of added challenge and waited until I could move around a little better before dumping it on us. You're welcome, other Chicagoans.

Another Extremely Exciting Bulletin from Bed Rest

2012-01-09T04:47:00.000-06:00

I just crutched my way out to the kitchen and got my magic pill and a pop and thumped back into my room. This counts as my biggest accomplishment in six weeks, and trust me, when my dear sweet mother reads this, she is going to murder me. She's not too keen on me pushing limits at this point, probably due to the fact that I lack physical grace and might take another nasty little spill and have to live with her for another year or two or three or ten.

Soooo, not too much is new or exciting. I've been entertaining myself as best I can. I have people physically force Cooper to jump up into my bed and he reacts by making priceless faces like this one:

Why would he possibly be terrified and disgusted by my touch? Well, maybe because this is one of my other pastimes.

Oh, my plastic grabbin' stick brings me hours of entertainment.

That's the clicker (or, in non-hillbilly vernacular, the remote control) for the Roku. Whatever shall I do with it?

That's right, I am so wild and so crazy that I actually put it on the blade of the ceiling fan!!!!!! It was better than a carnival. I laughed and laughed and a great time was had by all.

Mean little dog.

Then there's my mom. She is, of course, living her dream, having an adult child move back home and become completely dependent on her. When she leaves the house to run errands, she gets a babysitter for me. This is because I have made a habit of getting up to go to the bathroom and accidentally dropping my crutches, leaving me stranded. She leaves me helpful little hints about my care, such as this one:

I never would have been able to figure that out on my own. When I go to rehab, she gets me settled in the car with the seat reclined all the way back and then she covers me with a warm little blankie.

Handi-capable people need love too.

Oh, I just realized I forgot to mention on here that I didn't get the house that I made an offer on five months ago. There was drama with the bank handling the short sale and they counter offered with a pie in the sky number, so I walked away from it. It was a major bummer and I was down about it for a couple days but life goes on and Trulia and Redfin are awesome time killers. If worse comes to worse, I can always buy a bus and start a traveling family band with my sisters and the dog, so I definitely have options.

2011: Don't Let the Door Hit Ya Where the Good Lord Split Ya

2011-12-31T12:35:00.000-06:00

Well, 2011 has been quite a year for me, to put it mildly. If I look at it from one perspective, it's been one of the worst years of my life.

This injury and all the twists and turns of diagnosing it and fixing it has been frustrating and humbling. I've never been one to ask for help, and not being able to do ANYTHING has killed me on a lot of levels. When your sister is in the shower washing your legs and your baby goddaughter is dressing you, your pride takes a hit.

Every task takes ten times as long as it did before. Yesterday, for example, I dropped a knitting needle off my bed. Since I can't bend at all, I went to reach for the grabber thing I bought from Amazon.com.

Problem: It had fallen against the wall out of my grasp. I picked up a pillow and began hitting it against the grabber until finally it fell within my reach. Then, I used my Skill Crane talents to fish around for the knitting needle. After five minutes, I finally got it back up on the bed. Repeat things like this forty times a day and it gets a lot frustrating.

I miss so much about my life before 2011. I lived by myself and my time was mine to do with as I wished. Even the annoying little necessities of life like grocery shopping, walking the dog, cleaning the bathroom, doing laundry... all of those are off the table for me now. After eight years on my own, I live under my parents' roof. All of my stuff is piled in their living room, making it look like a furniture and box emporium. I've lost friends. I feel like I have completely taken over the focus of my mom's life, and that's been a killer too.

Before this year, I'd watch football and see an injury and hear about someone being out for a couple of months and it'd seem like no big deal. I had no idea what rehab entails. It's painful. It's frustrating to feel like your body has failed you. There are days when I just don't want to do it, but that's not an option unless I want to be in a wheelchair at forty years old. It's incredibly slow to see progress. Oh, and it's expensive. Coming back from a really serious injury is no walk in the park.

BUT.... 2011 has taught me a heck of a lot about myself.

I know that I can maintain a positive attitude and smile and laugh and genuinely be happy even when things have collapsed and burned around me.

Entertaining myself has become a piece of cake. I learned to knit from YouTube, have read over a hundred books, watched more TV than ever before in my life and, of course, have painted many incredible masterpieces using the hallowed Paint by Number technique. Believe it or not, after a year of basically laying around, I can say I spent very little time bored. That's an accomplishment in itself.

When you're stuck forty minutes outside of the city and unable to do much for a year, you discover quickly who your friends are. I am so lucky to have some incredible people in my life who have checked on me, cheered me up, made me laugh and in general just remembered I'm alive. You have no idea how much that's meant to me. From now on, if I have a friend who's out of commission for a long period of time, I know how to make it better for them. So many of the people I've met through my blog are on this list too. I appreciate you guys so much.

Then there's my family. My mom has done a ridiculous amount of things for me. My dad has entertained me on a daily basis and has basically adopted my doggy pooh. Annie and Kerry have been there helping me along the way. Beautiful Goddaughter Jamie and Aunt Jen both stepped up to keep me laughing, and my cousin Missy sends me texts asking if I've bought a hover-round chair yet. I'm so lucky to have so many aunts, uncles and cousins who have shown me so much love and support through this year. Seriously, it blows me away how lucky I am.

I'm grateful for having a job that lets me work from home and I've learned to appreciate the value of health insurance.

My friend Dani (go read her blog, she's a huge success story!) wrote that in 2011 she learned to never take moving and exercising for granted. I'm right there with her on this one. It's going to take a while, but I am bound and determined to take control of my body again and work my way back into shape. I learned this year that being unable to do boring things like walking the dog, walking around a store, riding a bike etc makes you miss them like you wouldn't believe. 2011 is going to be my LAST immobile year. At least until my 90's. :)

So adios, 2011. You've been a hard year but you've taught me a lot. My life will never be the same because of this year, and that's a good thing.

2012, I'm going to knock your socks off. I'm 2/3 of the way done with bed rest, two weeks to go. Can't wait to throw away these crutches and kick some butt in a new year.

Christmas Wrap Up

2011-12-27T12:11:00.000-06:00

Yes I certainly did get ruby slippers for Christmas, and yes they do make them in a size 10. My five year old cousin was extremely jealous, and all I wanted for Christmas was the jealousy of children, so I win again.

We had a great holiday, filled with holly jollyness and joy. My family moved a twin bed into the middle of the festivities at two locations so I could attend the parties, prompting my cousin to ask if everyone had a Taryn Bed at their house. I am hoping Santa gave him nothing but coal this year.

I am over halfway done with bed rest, yeeee hawwwww. January 11th can't come soon enough.

Cooper has been completely ignoring me since I came home from the hospital on December 1st. He's refused to jump up on my bed and I have to bribe him to even come to the side of it for me to pet him. My sweet cousin Jenny thought it was because he's afraid he will injure me more, but the truth is Cooper is just a jerk. No doubt it my mind.

Last night, he gave me his Christmas present by jumping up here without being asked.

Maybe he's not the worst dog in the world. I personally think his cousin Charlie is much cuter in his holiday getup.

Santa Maybe

2011-12-23T11:58:00.000-06:00

Cameron my dear neighbor came over two days ago and he was facing an existential crisis. His mom had told him that there was no Santa Claus, and Cameron was very very confused.

"I think she's just playing a joke on me or not wanting me to tell the real Santa I want a drum set for Christmas," he surmised. "Huh," I said. It was one of those awkward times when the limitations of having an eight year old friend really became apparent.

"My mom also said there's no Easter Bunny. And I sat on that rabbits lap! I didn't want to, but I did it." Being eight is not always an easy thing.

Seeing Cameron struggle with this reminded me of one of my favorite Christmas memories. I was in eighth grade and Kerry was in first and she began having doubts that Santa was real. The rest of us were devastated. Christmas is a lot more fun when there's a child in the house that believes that something magical is afoot.

We came up with a plan to buy us at least another year of Santa in our house. On Christmas Eve, we went to midnight mass, and while we were gone, my friends Annie and Amy came over and put all of the presents under the tree. They filled the stockings, put candy canes on the tree, the whole shebang. When our family came in, Kerry's face registered total shock that Santa had actually come while we were out. How could my parents be Santa Claus if she had been sitting at church with them when the presents were delivered?

It was glorious. She believed with all her heart, but it didn't last. (Thankfully, because how sad would it be if my 26 year old sister believed in Santa Claus?)

Hope everyone has a magical Christmas or Hanukkah or December 25th or whatever you celebrate!

Here We Come a Caroling

2011-12-21T12:43:00.000-06:00

As much as I love Christmas music, a few of the songs always make me scratch my head and think, probably a lot deeper than the lyricist intended.

“Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” I often wonder what happened after the song ends. Does Rudolph immediately embrace his new social status, drop down to their level and make fun of Jimmy the Blue-Nosed Reindeer? Does he tell all the other reindeers who laughed and called him names to jump in the Arctic Ocean and buy himself a mansion with his mad Santa money? Too many unanswered question on this one.

“Frosty the Snowman” A jolly number about a strange adult male visitor who smokes a pipe and constantly reminds the children around him that one day he will melt and die. Grab the candy canes and garland! That puts me in the Christmas mood.

“Silver Bells” You’ll hear bells on every street corner. Get ready to feel guilty for not giving any cash to the half-frozen Salvation Army guy.

“Little Drummer Boy” Baby Jesus got the worst gifts ever. Gold, frankincense, myrrh and a song played on a drum by some little kid? Have you ever heard a child play with a toy drum? I’d rather get a savings bond and some nice warm underwear.

“White Christmas” One word: Racist.

“Santa Claus is Coming to Town” Listen to those lyrics. Terrifying! Don’t shout, don’t cry, don’t worry, kids, but just so you know, a guy is visiting briefly who sees you when you’re sleeping, and there will be repercussions if you don’t measure up to his idea of model behavior. Run, children, run!

“Jingle Bells” Picture this: You’re riding behind a horse and you’re probably downwind. It’s freezing. There are bells incessantly jingling everywhere. Oh what fun? What are you, a mental patient?

“Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” Everyone’s dancing merrily in the new old-fashioned way, and I know I’d just feel awkward like when everyone knows the steps to that one “Slidddee to the Left” song at wedding receptions. Where do they learn this? Did I miss a day of gym class or something?

“Winter Wonderland” So these people make a snowman and pretend it’s a religious figure and then promise to let him marry them the next time he’s in town. Sounds like some sort of hypothermia-induced hallucination to me. I'm kind of terrified to imagine what plans they made that they will be facing unafraid later.

“12 Days of Christmas” I know this guy is supposedly her true love, but this screams out stalker behavior to me. “Carol, Mike is outside again… he brought more effing birds.”

“We Need a Little Christmas” From the frantic pace of this song, they don’t need a little Christmas; they need a LOT of Valium.

NOTE: I wrote this last year but I think it bears repeating. Happy Holidays, everybody!

A Christmas (Party) Story

2011-12-19T18:01:00.000-06:00

Guess who fell on her ass at her family Christmas party this weekend? That's right, yours truly.

It shouldn't even surprise any of us anymore, honestly.

The original plan was for me to go to the party and just stand up with my crutches, make the rounds and leave after ten or fifteen minutes. Then we got to thinkin' (which is dangerous when the Harper Hive Mind starts making plans) and figured if we could pile cushions on a chair, I'd be able to stay at the right angle and thus would get to stay longer. Trial and error and drop offs from my Uncle Joe ensued and we finally came up with the perfect set up.

We set it up in the restaurant and it worked great. Sure, it looked weird to come into the place and immediately see semi-reclining me before you even got to see the tree, but what can you do. It was great to see everyone and kiss some babies and get gently teased by my cousins for making an appearance like the Queen Mum.

Then, I stood up to have someone adjust the pillows underneath me. When I sat down, the chair slid out from under me and BOOM, right on my butt.

What followed was a mob scene of people trying to help me while I yelled at them to leave me alone while I figured out what to do. (Sorry, fam). I realized pretty quickly I wasn't hurt from the fall (thank you, well padded derriere) so the problem was how to stand up without putting weight on my bad leg. I am sure there is some way to do this, but I couldn't figure it out and I ended up standing up on my gimpy right leg. I felt pain right away.

Well, that was my cue to hit the road. We went home, medicated me and started icing the leg. The good news is that my hip feels great and I definitely didn't undo what the surgery accomplished, phew. The not so good is that I have some pain and weakness in my IT band and quad muscle. I'm still waiting to hear back from the surgeon, but my good friend from childhood who's a doctor (how's that for making a valuable connection early in life) thinks it's just from not using the leg for so long and then standing on it. I'm really hopeful that he is right.

We have so many cute babies in our family that it's getting harder and harder for me to be the center of attention. Now I had to actually have surgery and then wipe out at the Christmas party just to be the topic of conversation. Oh well, us attention junkies will do what we have to do to stay relevant.

My cousins are also much nicer than me. I got emails and messages full of concern and very little teasing. If one of them fell and I knew they were okay, I would have made some comments about the grace and beauty of their butt hitting the floor at the very least.

Seriously, many thanks to my family for being wonderful and for loving me even in my elderly addled state. I'm bummed to miss the party, always my favorite day of the year, but next year when I'm mobile again we'll have a few laughs reenacting the Big Fall of 2011.

Happy Birthday to the Middle Child

2011-12-10T13:22:00.000-06:00

Last night, I took a trip down memory lane and watched the cartoon version of "Little Women" that Annie, Kerry and I loved when we were kids. I had no idea that it was an anime version of the classic Louisa May Alcott book, although the characters looking like this should have provided me a clue.

We marveled at well-written lines like when Laurie first meets Jo and says, "Does it bother you that I am so much richer than you?" and excellent translation mistakes like the sign proclaiming "On Reading! Keep Out!" on Jo's bedroom door. Truly a family classic (although the escaped slave who looked like a chocolate chip with gigantic fake lips did make us all a little uncomfortable).

I remembered how shocked Annie and I were when we finally read "Little Women" and discovered that Beth died at the end. In the anime version, the doctor comes out of her sick room and announces that the fever had broken. They all lived happily ever after. Apparently those little Japanese kids couldn't hack the true horrors of the real world.

Anyway, watching this I was reminded how many times my sister Annie endured my favorite movies when we were little kids. I insisted on watching "Wizard of Oz" at least twice a week. "The Sound of Music" was on regular repeat along with "Annie" and "Pollyanna." You can bet "Mary Poppins" made appearance after appearance as well. Annie suffered through all of this, even though she *gasp* isn't a fan of musicals. That's the joy of being the middle child stuck between two very demanding sisters... you learn to go with the flow.

Today my baby sister is 31 years old. She still puts up with my taste in entertainment. She means the world to me and I'm so grateful my parents decided not to put her up for adoption after all.

One Week Down, Five to Go

2011-12-08T13:50:00.000-06:00

Hello Internet People!

I am writing you from my bed, being very careful to not flex my hip more than 30 degrees. Sitting upright is 90 degrees, if that helps you picture it. This marks the first time in my life that I have EVER used what I learned in high school geometry.

Yesterday my stitches were removed, and everything is looking good. Want to see some pictures from my surgery? They are pretty neat and not bloody or graphic.

Torn muscle...

Fixed muscle! I would share some pictures of my ass and hip, but I discovered that they are not very photogenic. Who knew? (You're welcome, Mom.)

PT is going great, although right now it is mostly to ward off blood clots. The therapist does most of the work, moving my right leg for me. After six weeks of healing, we start building up that leg again and gaining function in it. I'm excited for that to happen. Right now, I have an exercise routine I do in bed three times a day. It involves a foam roller and an elastic band and I am not sweaty afterwards. Baby steps, baby steps.

Here's a picture from my exercise program. Doesn't it look kind of, um, questionable? If I didn't know my physical therapist pretty well, I'd worry he was advocating a little back door action. (Sorry, Mom.)

All of my meals are served to me in bed on a silver tray. The fantasy of this turns out to be a lot more fun than reality.

Once again, my mom is just going above and beyond the call of duty to take care of me. I really am so lucky for so many reasons and she's a big part of that. Cameron my dear neighbor has come over and danced for my entertainment in the 6 x 6 area of my bedroom that doesn't have furniture in it. All worked out fine until he tried to do the worm. You need some room to really work out the kinks with that one. Live and learn.

The only bad part of being bed bound so far, aside from being a little bored, is being LITERALLY a captive audience for my dad to come in and tell stories about his many years with the Chicago police department. SEND EARPLUGS, STAT!!

"IF I Did It" by Cooper the Dog

2011-12-05T10:15:00.000-06:00

(Editor's Note: My sister Kerry has become obsessed with the OJ Simpson murder case. Last week, I was at the library and she asked me to check out the book that OJ wrote about the murder "If I Did It." It was one of the most embarrassing things she has ever made me do, and that's saying a lot.

This morning, Kerry brought Cooper into my bedroom and announced he was writing a book about my accident. I think you'll all agree it'll be a best seller.)

IF I did it, and I'm not saying that I did it, she might have been taking me for a walk. I may have seen another dog at the other end of the park. If I did it, I might have pulled a little too hard on the leash, pulling her along behind me. There may have been a pop from her hip area, and I may have been the only one to notice it.

It started with a little bit of pain and got worse from there. Eventually the finger pointing got to me. Everyone told her it had to have been me who had done it, but she'd look at my sweet little face and my adorable wagging tail and she'd blame it on everyone else but me. Then she'd dress me up as a reindeer and I'd stop myself from ripping off her face with my teeth.

IF I did it, it was the only way to get out of the city and to live at my grandma's house. If I did it, I had no other choice, and I have no regrets.

All residuals from Cooper's book will go to the Taryn Wright Movie Rental Foundation for Those With Hip Injuries.

Oh Hello, I'm Alive.

2011-12-02T10:03:00.000-06:00

So, of course, all of the hip doctors, med students and anesthesiologists were handsome, funny and dashing as they introduced themselves to me before my surgery yesterday. All I kept thinking was that I was about to be naked and in traction in front of all of them while my hip was repaired. Something tells me that killed the potential for romance. C'est la vie.

The good news is that the surgery was a complete success. They ended up only having to repair one of my three muscle/tendon tears. They anchored it to my hip bone and that restored the blood flow to the other two problem areas, so they should repair themselves. About time those things started earning their keep.

The BEST news is that the tear was in a great place to be anchored, so I will not have to wear a hip abduction brace for six weeks. That's the thing I was most nervous about, as it really didn't look like a fun time. In general, I try to avoid orthopedic devices that recommend cutting a slit in your pants for "toileting" and covering it with a sanitary pad. The fact that I don't have to use this stupid brace makes me giddy with happiness.

I do have a pretty cool little device on that circulates ice water onto the surgical site. I am hoping it helps with chilling my mother's wine too. I know that would put her in a much better mood.

I woke up this morning with a gigantic puddle of blood underneath my hip. We're waiting for a call from the surgeon but I think a couple of stitches got loose. Hopefully no big deal.

Because I am a very special snowflake who is allergic to many many antibiotics, I also threw up a couple of times this morning, but that seems to have gone away. I just enjoyed a lovely breakfast of mac and cheese and painkillers. I feel connected to Hollywood celebrities everywhere.

Today, I have physical therapy at 11. Can you even imagine?!?!? Sure they want me to avoid getting blood clots but I was hoping I'd get 24 hours of milking this thing before getting back to work.

Thank you so much for the support you guys have given me, particularly on Facebook. It has really helped to know so many people are rooting for me. I will challenge each and every one of you to a race when I get through this, and on the bright side, you will probably win!

Operation Déjà Vu

2011-11-30T14:19:00.000-06:00

I don't think my mom likes me anymore.

After watching the news, I remarked that I wished my name were Dick Street just like the fellow who was featured on the previous story. My dear mother replied, "So do I, because that would mean you weren't related to me."

Then two days ago, my dad asked her what she wanted to drink with dinner and she said, "Hemlock."

Having me living with her is getting to her, I think.

Tomorrow is the big surgery day... or is it? My cute little brain on some level thinks that it'll be delayed again. This has helped me sleep at night and avoid being nervous but I have a feeling my brain is in for a big surprise.

Like any good sitcom, my story lines are crossing and tying up nicely. Supposedly I am going to hear today if the short sale offer I made on that house was accepted. Totally episode 12 of an HBO series kind of week.

My former trainer Jackie is sending me white light tomorrow for my surgery. I'll take it along with good thoughts and positive energy. Again.

Um, About That Surgery...

2011-11-18T09:07:00.001-06:00

I got a call this morning two hours before I was supposed to be at the hospital. My surgery was cancelled due to a delay from the doctor. This shouldn't surprise me because this whole injury and recovery have been such a clustercluck but still, it seems a little psychologically torturous.

Bright side: rescheduled for ~~November 28th~~ December 1st. This is before the end of the year so my insurance won't reset its deductible. Also Thanksgiving will be a lot better now that I won't be recovering.

Sorry for the cliffhangers, folks!

Hippie Hippie Shake

2011-11-17T18:34:00.000-06:00

Tomorrow is my big hip surgery! I am so excited. If I had found a reputable YouTube video depicting the surgery, I would have attempted to do it myself at this point.

I would appreciate good thoughts sent my way.

Waiting for me to get home will be my new mannequin head, a gift from my aunt and beautiful goddaughter. This is Natasha, but you can call her Tasha if you are a friend. She's already had a haircut, two shampoos and I knitted her a hat.

Yes, the time has come to get this over with, regain my sanity and move on with my life.

Last Words of the Bird

2011-11-15T15:43:00.000-06:00

A couple of weeks ago, I heard my sister Kerry call for my mom from the bathroom. She had been showering with her cockatiel (as you do) and somehow the shampoo had fallen and splashed on his nose and face. It didn't seem to be an emergency situation and Kerry was asking for advice on how to make sure the bird would trust her in the future. In short, a typical night at the Wright Family Nuthouse.

I updated my Facebook

News that could only come from my family: Cody the 22 year old cockatiel was taking a shower with my sister and got shampoo in his eyes. Emergency vet being considered. Sister worries the bird will never trust her again. As the Wrights Turn will continue after the break.

Two hours later, I was at the emergency vet with Kerry and we were having the poor bird put to sleep. He had been poisoned by Head and Shoulder shampoo, and that combined with his 21 years of life were just too much for the poor thing.

Sooooo, I felt really bad. For one thing, our family has had this bird since he was a baby. My sisters absolutely adored him. Kerry had taught him how to say her name and his name. She showered with him, took him on vacation, bought him treats, the whole shebang. I was not a gigantic fan of Cody or of having birds for pets in general, but I knew my sisters both felt a very real sense of loss and I felt terrible for making fun of the situation on Facebook.

At the same time, there was some humor in the situation. On the way home from the vet (thirty miles. Not too many emergency avian vets apparently), Kerry was upset and was talking about how many times the veterinary staff came in and told us how much everything was going to cost. At one point she said, "I can't even believe they were going to charge us to give the bird the last rites!"

Now, in case you did not grow up Catholic, the last rites is a sacrament that involves praying over the dying and anointing them with oil. I didn't remember the subject of bringing a Catholic priest in after midnight to bless the cockatiel into heaven coming up at the vet.

"When did they say that?" I asked gently.

"You heard them! They asked us if we wanted a postmortem!!!"

That would be more like an autopsy. I do like the image of getting a priest out of bed to rub oil on a bird head, though.

So rest in peace, Cody the cockatiel. I deleted that Facebook status about you, I promise.

The Comeback (Part 3)

2011-11-10T08:05:00.000-06:00

Remember when I started this blog two years ago and it was all about losing weight and getting back into shape?

Yeah, neither do I.

Bed rest and extreme taking-it-easiness have not been kind to my fitness plans. I'm sure physical therapy helped a little, but I had to stop that two or three months ago. I can't walk for more than a minute without crutches and I can't sit for more than fifteen minutes or so. This makes extreme gym work very difficult, as you can imagine.

The good news is that I've been totally having "Rocky" moments in my own brain recently.

I got cleared to walk, with crutches, for up to fifteen minutes on a track. Two weeks ago, I joined a gym to do just that. I motor around the track, listening to books on my iPhone. The first time I did seven laps in fifteen minutes and I was so excited thinking that eight laps was a mile. I was still fast, even with crutches! Who needs an intact muscular system? Not this lady.

Then I found out that a mile was sixteen times around the track. Ooofff. Dreams of accidental fitness squashed.

I walk slowly around the track getting passed by senior citizens and stroke patients. It's a little humbling. But as I walk, I imagine how great it's going to feel when I finally get my body back to working order. I'll walk around the track or on a treadmill and remember the days when I dragged myself around at a snail's pace, pain with every step. Talk about starting from rock bottom!

Of course, because I'm me, this little mental trip ends with me on the medal platform at the 2020 Olympics, age 42, tears rolling down my face, gold medal shining on my chest, and the national anthem blaring.

Right now, I'm happy to feel like I'm getting fit again, one teeny tiny step at a time.

Strange Things are Afoot at the Circle K

2011-11-08T14:54:00.000-06:00

My dad has become obsessed with the Kardashians. He is 66 years old.

"Did you hear about Kim Kardashian and Kris Humphries?" This was asked breathlessly on the day he returned from golfing in Nevada.

"Um, yes... that's a, um, shame."

"I think she's a gold digger. He seems like a nice enough guy, just dumb as a box of rocks."

"Hmmm."

"You know who I don't like? Her sister, Choe-lee. She's got a nasty mouth on her."

All of this is interesting because I do not watch the Kardashian's show. My mom and my sisters do not watch it either. I have never seen it playing in the ten soul-crushing months I have been living here. This means that my dad, age 66, has been keeping up with "Keeping Up with the Kardashians" at work.

A few days later, I told him that TMZ reported that Kim was flying to Minnesota to meet with Kris.

"Oh I hope so! I was just raking leaves in the backyard and I dropped the rake and got on my knees and prayed that they'd reconcile."

I think he was kidding. Please let him be kidding.

I was Khloe Kardashian for Halloween in 2009. It required three throw pillows stuffed into a pair of panty hose to give me a booty.

Also strange is that I keep getting receipts from iTunes because my beloved mother has been downloading games for the iPad. Mirror Mysteries, Mystic Diary, Murder in Rue Morgue, Stray Souls. She apparently has become quite the supernatural gamer.

The other day I ended up with another elderly hitchhiker in my car. Yes, this is a pattern for me. This time, the guy had seen me crutching my way across the library parking lot. He held up his cane. "One day at a time, right sweetheart?" We were limpin' buddies. I had to drive him the two miles to the grocery store.

We had just started out on our journey when a squirrel ran out in front of the car. I braked and let it pass. "Oh you're just like me!" Edward the hitchhiker exclaimed. "I don't like to kill anything any more."

Immediately I thought about this season of "Dexter." There had been an elderly man who was a serial killer back in the day who may or may not have started up his hobby again. No spoilers from me. Anyway, I suddenly knew that this guy was a former murderer and now he was sitting next to me in my beloved Buick.

Yeah, nothing happened. I dropped him at Walt's and he let me know that he didn't care for the name Taryn at all, much preferring Karen. I thanked him and went on my way.

If I am found murdered, please tell the police about Edward. He would be the number one suspect, followed by Choe-lee Kardashian, followed by my supernatural video game obsessed mother. Thank you in advance.

Canine-versary

2011-11-05T10:18:00.000-05:00

Eight years ago today, I adopted a weird little dog named Cooper.

A thousand costume changes later, I can say for sure it was one of the best decisions I ever made.

Kimmy Gibler, Meet Your Match

2011-11-04T15:13:00.000-05:00

Like every good 80's sitcom, my life now includes a sassy neighbor as a supporting character.

Cameron is eight years old and he comes over to play with me a couple of times a week. We play iPad games, teach our dogs tricks and set up photo shoots with our puppies. Mostly, though, Cameron and I spend our time ragging on each other. He calls me lazy and makes fun of my "artwork" (can you even imagine??!?!) and I mock him for being born in 2003 and for having a small brain. Somehow, our friendship works.

The best thing about Cameron is that he's my own personal Webster or Arnold from "Diff'rent Strokes." He's a cute little black kid who is wise way beyond his years. Cameron will show up at our house and say things like "I'm sorry I'm late. I had forgotten Taryn had extended an invitation towards me until a few moments ago." Very Oliver Twist. He will fondly reminisce about things that happened when he was "a kid." My favorite thing about Cameron is his capacity to both receive insults and dish them out in return.

One day we got on the subject of the fact that every time he sees me, I am laying on the couch in my pajamas. He told me that he feared I would die alone. Here is a quote, which I immediately wrote down so I would never forget it.

"You're never going to get married. You'll be alone alone with a lot of cats, eating ice cream right out of the carton. You won't have dogs, because for some reason lonely women have a lot of cats."

Warmed the heart! Another day he told me he had decided he wanted to be the President of the United States when he grows up. I was very encouraging, imagining him thanking me in his inauguration speech. I told him I'd vote for him.

"Really? You would?" He seemed touched.

"Of course, Cam. I think you'd do a wonderful job."

"Well great, you can vote for me. If you're still alive by then."

Occasionally Cameron will behave like an eight year old. This comes as a huge shock to me when it happens. One day he acted like a dog for over an hour. I was embarrassed for him until I remembered that he was eight years old and this was typical. It usually ends quickly and we go back to making up dances to Michael Jackson songs and debating the merits of the Chris Brown Christmas album vs. Mariah Carey's and Garth Brooks'.

He will also get his facts a little mixed up every once in a while. On St. Patrick's Day, Cameron came over and proudly announced he was celebrating because he was part Irish. My mom said, "Wow, we're Irish too!" This little African American kid looked at her suspiciously. "YOU'RE Irish? You guys don't LOOK Irish."

My new favorite awkward Cameron story happened last week when he came over to show me his Halloween costume. He was dressed as a nerd, complete with suspenders and cracked glasses. "Cam, why would you be a nerd for Halloween? You're a nerd every day." I am so good at snappy insults.

He looked right at me and said, "Oh yeah? Well you're a SLUT every day."

Deep breath, Taryn. Act natural. Don't laugh. "Cameron, do you know what that word means?"

He proudly nodded. "Yes, someone who's LAZY."

I guess I am a slut then. Even an eight year old sidekick can figure that out.

Exciting Anniversary!!

2011-11-03T14:32:00.000-05:00

One year ago today, I bent down to pick up a pen while working and my wonderful hip and back injury adventure began. Glorious.

This picture is 100% meant to distract from the bum-outness of that fact.

It certainly has been an interesting year. Two ER visits, many doctor visits, two physical therapists, two MRI's, diagnoses ranging from simple bursitis to possible bone tumors to the one we've settled on, tendons and muscles torn from my hip bone.

Total medical bills: $33,308, plus about $8000 in physical therapy. My self-paid insurance has shelled out $19,000. I am grateful for that and I'm now happy I signed up for it even though the five years I went without so much as a cold made it seem like a waste of money.

Books read: 78.

Paintings Completed: 7

Scarves Knitted: 3

Hours of Netflix Watched: countless

Obviously, this injury has changed my life quite a bit. I sold my condo and am waiting to move to the burbs. My empathy for people with injuries or illnesses has skyrocketed. I've learned a lot about looking on the bright side of things and taking stuff one day at a time. It's been an accomplishment not to have become depressed or to get overwhelmed by this whole thing.

Two weeks till my big surgery and then I will finally be in recovery instead of waiting around to heal eventually! I'm looking forward to it like it's Christmas.

How awesome will it be when I can post about something other than laying around and doing nothing??? I know I can't wait!

Thanks for bearing with this whole thing, guys. I appreciate it.