All you need is (self) love...

"God, these portions are HUGE!"

"I shouldn't eat this."

"Well, I've been good all day, so I guess I can have this."

"There have got to be a million calories in this."

"Good thing I went to the gym today."

Any of these phrases sound familiar?  All of these phrases sound familiar?  I know I've said them before, and I've heard a lot of my friends say them too.  But what if we never thought this way again?  What if we were kinder to ourselves, and ate what we really wanted to eat without guilt?  What if we exercised because it was an activity we loved, not one we felt obligated to do?  What if we took a walk for the sake of taking a walk - not to see how many miles we could get in, or how fast we could go, but just to enjoy being outside? Would we all be a little less stressed?

As part of my "keep my sanity" way of thinking, I have started to practice these philosophies.  I don't think I've ever felt freer.  I'm not talking about sloth.  I'm not talking about gluttony, or eating nothing but McDonald's, or eating until you're ready to puke.  I've figured out that eating certain things make me feel good.  I've started eating a mainly vegetarian diet.  I say mainly because when I'm home, that's what makes me feel good, but if we're on vacation (I'll get to applying this philosophy in Jamaica in a minute) or at someone's house, I'm not going to be a pain in the butt.  I don't have an allergy, I am choosing this.  So, if my Mom made roast beef for Christmas dinner, I'm certainly going to dive in and I will not eat Christmas tofu.  But when I'm home, doing my own cooking, it does mean that I'll make BBQ lentils (they really are good), rather than using boston butt.  It makes me feel good.  Having to think outside the usual meals has made me think harder about what's for dinner.  Because a lot of recipes are based on pantry items, I can ask what I'm in the mood for that night, keeping in mind that Dave gets a vote too.  Then when I'm eating, whether it's a healthy choice or a not-so-healthy choice, I don't over-analyze it.  I don't measure portions, but I also eat until I'm satisfied, not until I'm stuffed.  Besides, try a vegetarian diet for a few days and OD on lentils and veggies - your digestive system will let you know you overdid it!  But I've noticed that I enjoy food more with this new way of thinking.  I don't feel bad about my choices.

We went to Jamaica last week.  It was our first time at an all-inclusive resort.  It was amazing.  We both love food, and we both view food as a part of the vacation experience.  We ate 5 course meals almost every night.  They took 2 hours.  I tried foods that I never would normally eat.  There were more than a couple of times that I did overeat, like, we had to go to the room to digest before we continued our strenuous day of laying on the beach.  A few years ago, I would have worried about how to lose the weight when I got home.  Heck, 3 months ago I would have worried about it.  Now, though, when we got home, I was more than ready to get back to normal eating.  We had our vacation.  We enjoyed the hell out of it.  But really, I did notice a difference.  So I went back to more intuitive eating and I'm already feeling less sluggish.  And my body will right itself eventually.  No problem, mon.  Side note - I didn't act like I didn't have diabetes.  THat's a whole 'nother thing.  I was still very vigilent about my bloodsugars, although I did ditch Bob for a week because, where DO you keep your non-waterproof insulin pump in Jamaica?  I did shots and fingersticks - kickin' it old school.

Anyway, I came to this realization about 3 months ago.  I spent 6 months working out with a trainer. Obsessing about how many workouts I got in per week.  What was my mileage on the bike?  My swims? How many reps?  I did weight watchers.  I measured everything.  Keep in mind that I didn't think I looked all that bad to begin with, I just didn't like the number that showed up when I weighed myself.  So guess what happened?  I gained 5 pounds.  And that's when it hit me.  My numbers were fabulous in every other aspect of my health - A1c, kidney function, blood pressure, cholesterol. I was fit. But I was so upset over the 5 pounds.  Then, I realized that I could eat well without measuring and without guilt and stress and workout doing something I actually wanted to do and I would look just as good doing something that made me happy.  And every once in a while, if I went out with friends and didn't order the healthiest thing on the menu, I wasn't going to comment on how huge the portion was or how much I needed to work out - I would eat until I was satisfied and enjoy every bite.  And I HATE running.  So guess what?  I don't run.  The next time I get in a pool and I am bound and determined to enjoy myself instead of obsessing about my MPH, my lap times, and everything else that I used to obsess about.

Finally, I've accepted my body.  I thought I was fat in high school.  I thought I was fat in college.  I did some extraordinarily STUPID things to lose a lot of weight for my wedding.  I have refused to be in pictures because I didn't like the way I look.  But when we were packing for Jamaica, I put on all my bathing suits, trying to decide which ones to pack.  And I almost cried.  Because I thought, genuinely, that I look good.  I have had a belly my entire life.  Now I have a bigger belly from having a kid.  I have 6 scars on it from 2 surgeries.  Oh well, I'm over it.  I'm not perfect, but I realized that I'm not nearly as hideous as I'd spent the last 20 years thinking that I was.

So, this has been a rambling piece.  If you've stayed with me this far, I guess my message is this.  Love yourself.  Love yourself enough to eat what is going to make you healthy and what will make you feel good and yes, what will give you pleasure.  Part of the reason I'm not vegan is that I tried soy cheese.  I love myself too much to eat soy cheese.  It's nasty.  Love yourself enough to exercise doing something that you love, not something that you feel like you should do for an amount of time that you feel that you should do it.  And choose the path of happiness and optimism whenever possible.  Because life's too short to be miserable. :)  And when all else fails, there's wine.  Lots and lots of wine.

A little catching up

I can't believe it's been almost a year since my last blog post.  There are reasons for that.  First, last fall, about the time I fell off the blogging wagon, was when I had eye surgery.  Then some really scary stuff happened that I wasn't sure I wanted to talk about.  I have no idea who reads this blog.  I have no idea why they do, if they do read it.  I like to stay positive, and from October - December, trying to think positive became my other full time job, and I just wasn't ready to talk about it.  Heck, I'm not sure I want to talk about it now, but now that I've got this great suspense built up, I might as well tell those that don't know - I spent 8 weeks wondering if I had ovarian cancer.  I didn't, thank God.  But going through an extremely busy semester wondering if a mystery mass that is the size of a grapefruit means that you have a cancer with a 10-15% survival rate is pure hell.  Pure. Unadulterated. Hell.  And it was hell on my closest friends and family that knew.  So I wasn't ready to share that until now.  But, we are all on the other side now, whole, happy, and healthy.  Thank God.

So, spring was spent kinda taking it easy.  Summer has flown by.  Ian started pre-school!  Pre-school!  His first day was harder for me than him, that's for sure.  His last day with Sarah was incredibly hard for me, surprisingly.  He had been going to her since he was 6 weeks old!  Her family had become an extended part of our family.  Then I had to remind myself that it wasn't like they were moving.  We live 1.5 miles away from each other.  Play dates will happen!  Fortunately, Ian LOVES school.  I can't ask fro more than that.  Dave is doing well.  Life is good.

The highlight of our summer was a trip to Jamaica.  It was our first vacation that didn't involve visiting family in 5 years.  It was cathartic.  That sounds stupid and melodramatic, but it was.  I had been thinking about the fall semester, which is always nuts, only this time I have 86 people, not 70 in A&P and I'm teaching toxicology for the first time ever.  Oh yeah, and I'm going up for tenure and this year I will probably switch my research model.  So, you know, a few irons in the fire.  And, like usual, I was worried about how to do all this and keep my sanity.  But if last fall taught me anything, it's that life is way too short to spend all of it stressed out.  Jamaica taught me that cocktail hour before dinner is a good idea. Even if there's no alcohol involved, taking a few minutes to relax before dinner and talk a little about the day is nice.  Or don't talk.  Just take a few minutes and unwind.  This summer I started singing in Sacred Heart's gospel choir.  It's a once a week committment that is all for me.  It's fun.  It's hilarious.  It's not taking yourself so seriously. And no matter how busy this fall is, I will continue to go because it makes me happy.

So this semester, I am determined.  I am determined that I will not pass up a fun opportunity to spend time with Dave and Ian in favor of getting just one more thing done at work, if I can help it.  Even if there are things piling up, I will take care of me.  I will eat well.  I will sleep at night.  I will keep a sense of humor.  Lab meetings might be at the bar occasionally because the only time everyone was available was 4pm on Friday's.  And that's 5:00 EST.  I'm going to take a page from a prof at UA who always said "Work hard, play hard, sleep well."  And I'm going to blog.  Because it makes me happy too, even if I have no idea if anyone's reading.  I guess that's like the "dance like no one's watching" thing - blog like no one's reading?  Anyway, it's a new fall, a different way of thinking, and a lot to be thankful for.

Those who can't do, teach...wait a minute

I wasn't sure what to write about this week.  I could write about how I've been feeling like lately that I'm burning the candle at both ends pretty hard, but my commitments are set for the semester, so I just need to get over that feeling and deal with it.  So, in the spirit of positive thinking and not wanting to sound whiny, I thought I'd write about teaching.

I've never understood the phrase "Those who can't do, teach."  Makes no freaking sense.  To teach someone else something, you have to be able to understand your subject pretty darn well.  I think there are huge misconceptions about teachers at any level.  I can't really speak for K-12, but as a university professor, I very much feel like people think that we're a bunch of lazy, overpaid bastards who work 12 hours a week (12 hours is a full load in my department at ESU) and sit up nights thinking of ways to fail people.  Let me enlighten you - I'm not overpaid, I could make far more in industry than I do now.  If you broke down the actual workweek of most of my colleagues and figured out our average hourly wage, if would be ridiculous.  Like, ridiculously low.  So why do it?  Because there's nothing else like it.

This semester has been crazy busy, to say the least, but it hasn't gone unrewarded.  I've had some amazing moments.  I have a Monday night hour in my A&P course, and since it's at night, we can go longer than 50 minutes if people want to.  One night we were reviewing muscle contraction (which has a lot of steps) and I'd explained it about 4700 different ways trying to make them understand it (biology isn't just memorizing a bunch of crap, BTW, I really, really want people to understand what they're learning).  Finally, the students looked at me and several of them started saying, OMG, we get it!  And then started coming up to the board where I'd drawn things out and tried to explain it to me (and they were right).  Have you ever explained something to someone and seen the lightbulb go on in their head?  They're excited, you're excited.  Pretty damn cool feeling.

I have about 55-60 people in my class, but I'm trying to learn all their names and one of my goals every semester, every class is that I want people to feel comfortable.  I want them to freely ask questions, I don't want them to feel like they can't talk to me.  This week in particular, I had a first.  A student came to me asking about study tips, which happens a lot.  We were talking, and they said that they felt like they knew the material until they saw the test, and then their mind went blank.  So we talked about test anxiety and I gave them my best tips that I normally give everyone who asks.  Then they asked if there was anything else.  I NEVER bring up religion with my students, unless I've literally bumped into them at church and we comment on Father Rich's sermon or something.  For one, I'm private about it, and two, I teach in a public university and I teach science, not religion.  But I took a deep breath and told them that I didn't know what their religious beliefs were, but that in grad school I prayed before every exam I took.  Nothing long or drawn out, just a short, 2 second affair asking for guidance and peace.  Well, ok, and an A. :)  The student smiled at me and said that they'd never really thought about doing that, but that their dad was a minister and they were religious and would definitely try it.  I'm extremely open with my students about my medical history (I teach A&P after all!), but that was the first time I felt like I'd really shared something deep with a relative stranger.  But I felt like I'd helped, and that was pretty cool.

So, it's a total cliche' to say that you do something (it's a joke on med school applications) "because you want to help people", but that really is a big reason I enjoy teaching.  I love getting to know my students.  I love seeing the lightbulb go on.  And, let's face it, my multimillion dollar salary and my unbeatable, 12-hour workweeks don't hurt either. ;)

Meet Bob's new friend - Bobette.

This week, I've told two or three colleagues that if I'm not a chain-smoking alcoholic by Christmas, it'll be a miracle.  This fall is kicking my butt, but I keep telling myself, hard work, big rewards.  And candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker.  You know, for as much as I joke about drinking, I don't actually drink much, but it makes me feel better to talk about starting.  You know, like some people say they're going to start a new diet?  Start exercising? Me, I'm going to start drinking.  Cheaper than a padded hospital cell.  I can't complain too much.  My schedule is nuts, but I'm not in the SAC office, having to be all touchy-feeling and pretending to be everyone's friendly neighborhood advisor.  Woot!

Anyway, Bob got a brain (Bobette) on Monday.  More specifically, I got a continuous glucose monitor.  It took a year and three appeals to BCBS, but I got one.  And let me tell you, it's fantastic.  Fan-freaking-tastic.  Seriously, life changing.  So, this little gizmo has wires that I put in with a needle the size of a harpoon (amazingly, using the harpoon-gun-inserter-thingy, it doesn't hurt to put it in).  These wires wet over the course of almost 24 hours with interstitial fluid and send signals to the transmitter plugged into it.  The transmitter beams me up scotty sends info to Bob, who displays a 3 hour graph and my current reading.  So, by calibrating it periodically with fingerstick readings, it's pretty accurate.  So far, it usually reads 2-20 points different from my meter, but that's nothing.  It has algorithms that predict lows and highs, and I have alarms set to let me know when I'm low or (here's the amazing part) 15 minutes before I'm going to be low.  The second night, I thought I had a fire alarm going off in my pajamas (it's LOUD) because Bob and Bobette decided that I was going to have an insulin reaction.  My bloodsugar was 120 at the time, but I had double arrows pointing down.  So I got up, ate a small snack and went back to bed.  I got up the next morning with a bloodsugar of 100.  People, do you know how amazing this is?  Do you know what it's like to stumble out of bed in the middle of a great dream with a bloodsugar of 45, eat like you'll never eat again because all you want to do is feel better, then wake up higher than the Empire State building the next morning, feeling like complete crap?  If Bob wants to scare the beejeezus out of me in the middle of the night to tell me to eat something now so I prevent all that later, I'm gonna listen.  When I was pregnant with Ian, I had a reaction in the middle of the night with a bloodsugar of 32.  I sweated so much there were drips on the kitchen floor.  Dave got up the next morning and asked if we were attacked by bears because, strewn over the kitchen counter, were candy wrappers, Little Debbie wrappers, a peanut butter jar, a bottle of honey, half a loaf of bread, and some cracker remnants.  Not kidding, even a little bit.  Don't feel sorry for me for a second, though.  I wake up.  Not everyone does and I've known several people who have seizures because they don't wake up, so I consider myself damn lucky.

Mom pointed out something that I thought the second wonderful day with Bobette.  "Your pregnancy would've been so much easier with one of those."  Oh hell yeah.  And the bloodsugar nazis recommended that I consider a pump.  But at the time, I had no idea CGM was a possibility, I had hated my last pump, and I was a hot hormonal mess.  I believe my reaction was to burst into tears and to ask Chris if that meant the nurses didn't think I was doing a good enough job on shots.  Geez.  I look back on my pregnancy with awe, wonder, and laughter.  It was the best, most precious experience of my life, but damn, could I have cried a little less?  For the record, I shut the door to my office one day and sobbed hysterically to Dave (who thought I was having a miscarriage or something) that "I had a freaking Ph.D. but I was hungry and didn't know if I could have a snack because my bloodsugar was high."  I also cried because I had to eat a bedtime snack every night and I had gastroparesis really bad and was still super full from dinner that wouldn't digest (I believe that I was holding a corndog and making it soggy with my crying at the time).  Everybody has their funny pregnancy stories. :)

But so far, this is seriously the most life-changing piece of technology that I own.  I thought I could love no device more than my iPhone, but Bobette has knocked the iPhone down one notch.  I feel so happy that BCBS decided to cover the cost because like all good medical technology, this ain't cheap.  I feel like writing them a personal letter thanking them for realizing that Jesus was not going to give me a new pancreas no matter how much I prayed, exercised, or promised to stop eating potato chips.  Just joking - I never actually promised anyone that I'd stop eating potato chips.  Anyway, on to achieving my semester goals, like becoming a chain-smoking alcoholic, with Bob and Bobette. :)

Motivation

I wasn't sure  what to write about this week.  Sometimes I think that I should use more pictures - they take up space and you can add a caption or two and be done with it, but I kinda like trying to be thought-y (that's probably not a word).  Which is why this is turning into a weekly, not daily blog.

This semester, the fall semester, is always my toughest one in terms of commitments.  I teach more than I do in spring, the lab coordinator gig is harder because I usually have a crop of new TAs starting to teach for the first time, and I'm usually tired from summer teaching.  This fall I'm also a faculty senator (it REALLY, REALLY beats the SAC office - I  wasn't bitter and angry after my first senate meeting; I was almost always angry after a session in SAC.  So, I'm trying to make myself a little more of a priority in all this.  Selfish?  Maybe.  But the ESU swimming pool is cheaper than therapy and more legal than killing everyone who frustrates me. (I sound like I have all this pent-up aggression - I really don't.  I really do love my job.)  In the past, 30 odd years, I can't say that exercise has been a priority.  But I kinda dig this swimming thing.  In fact, I might even be a little bit good at it.  And I feel accomplished and justified in eating out for lunch if I get in my 1500m in 40 minutes.  But, when things get busy I tend to drop stuff like this.  Swim for an hour (including getting in and out of the pool)? But I could be doing x, y, z.  Yeah, I could, and in the past, I did.  Now, I've figured out that even more than exercise I need 40 minutes to myself.

But swimming is tiring sometimes, especially when you're upping your distance like I am this week.  I have a waterproof iPod that I love a lot and I had a pretty good playlist, but it was feeling stale lately.  So I loaded some new stuff on there for this week and boy-howdy, let me tell you it worked.  40 minutes to myself AND swimming to the Top Gun soundtrack?  Yes, please.  Seriously, try it.  It doesn't matter what you're doing - you could be cleaning toilets, but if you do it to the Top Gun Anthem, you're suddenly wearing aviators and a flight suit and are a total badass.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zCTJmXrgsFg

I can backstroke to none other to this song.  I'm pretty sure if I keep playing it as loudly as I do, I will be deaf by the end of the semester.

My other new favorite motivating song is Say Hey (I love you).  This one is so catchy that I did my last 100m to it, got out of the pool, and started dancing while I was putting my gear away.  I'm sure there are now several football players who were wondering who the crazy pale girl on the sidelines trying to dance was.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ehu3wy4WkHs

Some people are intrinsically motivated to exercise - healthy, feel good, blah, blah, blah.  Me, I need stuff - the lure of a new swimsuit, new music, the ability to picture myself swimming with aviators on in a music video for the Top Gun Anthem. :)  Hey, you gotta go with what works, right?

Parenting - my thoughts 2.5 years in...

So, lots of people are having babies.  Snooki, my friend Megan, one of my closest friends, Melissa, getting ready to have her second.  Now that we've had Ian for 2 1/2 years and CPS hasn't been called once, I thought I'd share my thoughts on parenting - the good, the bad, and the ugly.   My thoughts, my blog - if you disagree, feel free to keep that to yourself. :)

On Sunday, Snooki had her baby.  I was pretty sure that the Mayans had their dates screwed up and that the world was supposed to end on this date, but we're all here, so I guess not.  She's tweeted a lot, apparently, (I don't follow her on Twitter, I do read online tabloids) about how amazing her son is, how in love she is, how amazing breastfeeding is.  Good for her.  But what if having a baby isn't like that?  What if that bond takes longer to form than a nanosecond?  What if it's not like A Baby Story?  Are you a crappy parent?  It's taken me a long time to realize that this is one of the first dirty little secrets of parenting.  Absolutely, I loved my child.  Absolutely, I would have laid down my life for him from the moment I found out I was pregnant.  But those thoughts of amazement, sunshine, and roses took weeks.  Maybe months.  When we brought Ian home from the hospital, Dave and I sat on the couch at one point looking at each other and saying "What the hell did we just do??"  It was a lot of reality that we now had another human completely dependent on us.  This wasn't a new puppy that we could leave alone for a few hours.  This was real.

Now, I'm much more confident in my parenting.  And Ian's more interactive.  Another dirty little secret - not everyone enjoys the newborn stage.  Yes, he was fun to dress up and didn't talk back.  But I had NO IDEA what to do with him when we were alone and he was awake.  There's a very good reason I work with adults all day - I'm not naturally good with kids.  Now, though, we can play.  We can talk to each other.  We argue (he's 2!).  Sometimes I win, sometimes I cave.  Sometimes I sit back and think about how funny and charming he is and sometimes he's well, 2.  And I have to admit (dirty little secret #3) - sometimes I miss our old life.  According to parenting articles, Hallmark movies, and TLC, the moment your child is born you are supposed to utter phrases like "I can't remember what life was like without him/her."  Guess what?  Some of us remember.  I remember what it was like to be able to have a lazy Saturday lounging around, doing whatever we wanted.  I remember what it was like to work, guilt-free, because we were both workaholics.  We had 10 years of marriage before we had Ian.  Then again, when I have these thoughts, I remember that he won't always be so much work.  That it's getting easier and easier to do things and go places with him.  And that he brings a lot of balance to my life and I'm proud of the fact that when we're home he gets all of our attention until he goes to bed.  I don't feel guilty whatsoever for not being a stay-at-home mom.  I know that if I was I'd a cranky, resentful, crappy mom.  I'm a better mom (God knows, not a perfect one) because I have my job.

Potty training is in full swing.  No magic tricks or sage words of advice here.  Some days are awesome and some days aren't.  Two steps forward, one step back.  He won't go to college in diapers.  Or hopefully dirty underwear.  For instance, today he was dry all day - not one accident.  We were home, we'd used the potty no problem, then I needed to do a load of laundry and the water coming into the washer made him soak his underwear and pee on the floor.  Oh well.  We mopped it up and moved on. We handled potty training like we do most things around here - negotiation and a little bribery.  The trick to negotiating is to let them think they've won something, when in reality you were going to let them do it anyway.  Want to watch some Dora before daycare? AFTER we go potty, brush teeth, get dressed, etc.  And by then there's 5 minutes left and I would let him watch for 5 minutes anyway, but he thinks he's getting his way.  He's becoming a champion negotiator, though.  One M&M for going potty? "Two"  Want a bedtime kiss? "watch more Dora" He's not dumb - and it's hilarious when he uses the system against us.

We're done having kids.  That wasn't a choice that was entirely freely made and it was a decision that was easy to make and took months to accept.  But it's the clear choice given the 2+ year battle I've had with my eyes.  Another kid isn't worth my vision.  And several close friends with only children or who are only children have convinced me that Ian will not be a sociopath, a brat, or perpetually lonely.  And now that we've accepted it, there are perks.  It's easier to travel with him than if we had more.  Certainly, there are financial considerations. I don't have to ever own a minivan if I don't want to.  And it's kinda cool being the three musketeers.

So overall, parenting is great.  I'm glad we had a child.  He's an amazing little guy.  Did I also mention he inherited my stubbornness?  Yeah, there's been a lot of days lately where I feel like I never say yes and everything is one big fight, but then there are all those times that he wants a hug, a story, to play with me, and I realize that saying no doesn't make me the bad guy for too long.  And yes, I remember EXACTLY what life was like before, but I wouldn't trade it for the now.

Another day, another semester.  Wait, didn't I promise to write more regularly?  Wasn't that promise made in JANUARY?  Oops.  I give props to the people who write the blogs that I read every day - it's hard to be thought provoking on a daily basis.  Which is probably why some of the blogs I read photograph their bowl of oatmeal every single morning and call it a post.  And then I go back every day to see if they ate anything different for breakfast.  I digress.  I'm sure no one was logging on here on a daily basis to see if I'd posted anything new. :)

But if you did miss my ramblings, I am going to try to do better this fall.  I tell my students all the time that the only part of writing that I enjoy is seeing my name in the table of contents in a journal.  And that's true, but blogging is different.  It's a little bit of a release.  And I like to think that I'm entertaining, at least a little bit.  So what's on my mind tonight?  Well, I guess I'll tell you what I did this summer.

Half my lab graduated.  I got seriously sentimental over these guys - I had my first group pretty much ever where everyone got along, there was no drama, and I didn't have an ulcer worrying about them.  Seriously some of the most talented, wonderful young people I've ever had the pleasure of working with.  Two are at my alma mater, working toward their Ph.D.s in neurobiology and chemistry, one landed her dream job as a professor at a community college, one got into medical school, and two are staying on for their master's with me, which I'm so glad about.  Even more miraculous is that two theses were generated and both students are still speaking to me!  A first for me!

I taught summer A&P for the first time.  Loved having 10 people in class, especially since they were a fun bunch.  Co-taught cadaver lab (ok, really I didn't teach, I hung out and talked to the students).  Really, those guys caught on pretty quickly to the fact that I 1) stink at dissection and 2) hadn't studied a lick to teach the class.  "Should we cut that off, Dr. Bailey?" "Well, um, it looks important, we should probably ask Dr. Sievert."  I need to hone my dissecting skills, for reals, before next summer.  I "helped" my regular A&P students dissect their cats - it looked like someone went after them with a butter knife and a hatchet.  NOT pretty.  Oh well, I'm still the reigning histology queen at ESU, thank you very much.

I went to Baltimore for the annual TS meeting and had a really great time.  Loved seeing friends, loved the science, loved seeing my students shine, and loved seeing my mentors.  As a bonus, I got to go to NY for a couple of days and see my sister, brother-in-law, and impossibly cute nephew.  We bonded over playing Angry Birds until he realized that I wasn't Mommy.  He did love Crazy Aunt Lissa for running through the sprinklers at the pool though!

I also got back in the pool.  Swimming is the only form of exercise that I'm good at, which sucks for anyone who has to see me in a swimsuit at the pool, but oh well.  It's actually not pure, unending torture.  I swim with fins and pretend that I'm a perfect hybrid of Michael Phelps and Gisele Bundchen. And then I get out of the pool and look in the mirror...one day. :)  I've decided that swimming makes me a happier person and I'm going to take time to do it.  And I just found a swimsuit on splish.com that has a skeleton on it that I have to have.

And now it's fall.  I have some new undergrads, two returning/new grad students, and the gang that didn't graduate last year.  I think it's going to be a great group, but we'll definitely need Betty for entertainment purposes at the Christmas party.  A&P is going well so far - some fun people in there.  In case you think I forgot that I have a son, I haven't.  The Dictatortot is the subject of my next post!