Life with Blood Thinners

It's about the same, actually.

I'm no longer having pain, and only the occasional swelling, mostly after running at the gym. I'm being careful with myself so there hasn't been any bruising.

My sexy stockings give me thigh high muffin tops.

HM is being good about not pushing the alcohol.

My mother keeps calling to make sure I'm okay.

The Dr bills are starting to roll in. The ER visit is going to cost me thousands. Thousands for sitting there and watching Pawn Stars. For a warm blanket and a short ride in a wheelchair. For the occasional nurse to come in and feel up my leg.

This is after insurance discounts. It does not include the cost of the blood thinner clinic, the doctor, the Urgent Care nurse, the ultrasound tech, follow ups with my PCP, or my visit with my OBGYN to discuss my reproductive stuff going forward.

Don't even get me started on the insurance topic. Despite the fact that I have it, it won't kick in until I have paid $3000 out of pocket. After this, I'll reach that. But it's December. Which means that will reset for next year in just a couple of weeks. 

I'll be looking at secondary employment. I'm going to try going back to Bucks. I had fun there and have experience. It's only temporary, right?

Where things are now

I wasn't admitted. They started me on blood thinners right away and I stopped taking the pill. I have more Dr's appointments this month than I think I have had since I was a young child.

I will have three months of treatment during which I have to be extra careful about cuts and bumps. A fall means a trip to the ER as does hitting my head. which kind of means that I can't ride roller coasters and absolutely means I can't roller skate.

I cannot be on hormone based birth control anymore, but that (hopefully) will be the only major long term change.

HM is not going to like that I will have to cut down my drinking considerably, but I'm kind of glad.

I will have to be better about moving around more often, both at work and at home. I'm actually looking forward to that.

My leg still hurts. Tylenol doesn't cut it the way ibuprofen did, but I can't have that. Or cranberries. Or copious amounts of garlic. damnit.

The swelling has gone down considerably and I am no longer limping as badly as I was. I'll likely take my third epsom salt bath tonight. the MT had suggested 8 pounds 1x per week for 4 weeks and then 1x per month thereafter. Apparently, our society as a whole is lacking in magnesium. There was nothing in my  paperwork that said I couldn't have it, so I think I'm good.

Chango has been extra protective, hardly leaving my side. I think he knows something is up. It's kind of adorable.

Mostly though, I really want to spread the word that we need to listen to our bodies and pay attention when they tell us something is wrong. If I hadn't gone to the Dr, I could have lost my leg. OR a clot or two could have traveled to my lungs. Or worse, to my brain.

In this season of thankfullness, I am thankful to my MT for the warning. And to the NP for not making light of the situation. For working to rule out the worst case scenario instead of going for the easy answer. I had made it quite clear that I had been roller skating the Saturday before my pain started and that I thought perhaps I injured myself without knowing it.

I was wrong. Thank goodness they were right. And now, let the healing begin.

I think he was trying to head off what he already knew

I went to the ER, driving across town to the less frequented hospital. They pushed me in a wheel chair and I climbed on a gurney. I did my best to smile and laugh and be thankful to the ER staff who constantly deal with the very worst of medicine. The emergencies. Some kid puked on the floor while I was there. The lady I shared my room with complained about everything.

Doctors and nurses came and went, all of them poking at my leg and agreeing that an ultrasound was the best idea.

the ultrasound tech arrived and wheeled me into the room. We joked and laughed and made small talk. I tried to hold still and stay off my phone, until he said the words.

We have clots. You'll have to be admitted.

I called my roommate and made sure that she was home and that she would be okay looking after Chango. I called the wife and asked her if she could pick up a few things from the house and bring them to me. And a cheeseburger. and animal fries. I needed comfort food in the worst way.

As i was wheeled back to my ER room, I remembered my massage therapist's insistence that I take better care of my vascular system. All I could think was that with his experienced hands, with his body worker's intuition, he knew that something wasn't right in my leg, that it was blood related, that I would need to take steps SOON. When I was in his position, I knew when my patients weren't quite right. When they were not feeling well or had something going on that wasn't visible. Since I do not touch people regularly, I no longer have that ability.

I will be seeing him again when I am cleared for massage.

Bodyworkers develop a sense, you know?

That was the week of Halloween and I found all sorts of excuses not to go to Urgent Care. I was hobbling around popping pain pills and trying not to injure myself further. The second Wednesday after my pain started, my ankle and foot swelled up.

I went to Urgent care after work on Thursday. I was expecting them to throw me in an air cast and send me on my way like they did when i sprained my ankle so many years ago.

Instead, the Nurse Practitioner strongly advised me to go to the ER and get an ultrasound. Clots, he said, are a danger, and we need to rule them out. I cried a little. Now we were getting scary. I'm a healthy 36 year old woman. I exercise A LOT. But I also sit on my ass all day at work. AND I've been on birth control pills for the better part of the last 17 years.

I considered just going home. Or at least swinging by to check on Chango. But the look on the NP's face told me to go. and to go now.

I think he knew.

A couple of weeks ago, I went in for a massage at the local chain place that has a "club" of sorts you pay monthly and get massages. Discounts if you want more than one, and if you bring in friends. Kind of brilliant actually. I would have gone to a smaller place, but this one takes my HSA.

Since I don't care about gender, and have had some wonderful massages from men, I generally choose a man. This time, what I didn't expect, was an old man. We all know I tend to be ageist. I don't usually date older men, and I was a little wary about being touched my one. I got over myself because I know that my thinking is incorrect and pure asshole. I got over myself even quicker when I discovered that he had a gentle and healing touch. He was very personable and full of wonderful knowledge. He had started massaging when he was a little boy, rubbing his mother's feet.

As he worked down my right leg, he mentioned that he had noticed some spider veins. He made a few suggestions on things I could do to improve the circulation in my legs. He was very firm, but kind about it. I needed epson salt baths. I need to work my solaris muscle. I went strait to Costco for the salts and took my first bath that night.

A couple of days later, I found myself in a great deal of pain. My right leg felt like it had been punched. or sometimes, it was on fire. Regardless, it hurt. A lot. A few days of this (tempered by over the counter pain meds, and I was threatening to go to the Dr.

Little butterflies about a "new/old" path

Deep breath.

You all know that I'm a huge fan of Liv Lane. Her stories inspire me frequently, and, if you remember, she had a linking party every week about finding happiness that I really enjoyed because it encouraged me to not only write more often, but also to find beauty in simple places.

Over the past year or so, Liv has started on a more spiritual journey and it has been amazing to read and follow along because some of the things that she is discovering are things I learned a long time ago and it's always fun to watch someone else's path to discovery. It's so amazing to see her publically admit to things that most people would call crazy because I have been there and it's scary to put yourself out there like that.

I learned some of it a long time ago. And then? I don't know. I've gotten away from my spiritual side. It's there if I reach for it, I have never lost the deep seated faith that I gained over years of study, but it's no longer forefront in my life. I stopped talking about the hoodoo that I do because I got tired of being the crazy girl even though so many people embraced my witchyness. But some of the people closest to me, rejected it and I moved to a place where I didn't know anyone and it seemed so much better to bury it. To keep it private. To try to be normal. I'll never be normal.

It has occurred to me to change that, and every so often, I start to, quietly, late at night. I don't talk about it with other people because faith is such a private thing and quite frankly, when you start talking about angels and demons and spirits of any sort, people often think you're nuts. Maybe I am. But I'm the harmless sort of nut who hears voices and doesn't always do what they tell me to. Mostly they just say my name anyway.

It came up in conversation with HM last weekend and well, it didn't turn out well even though things are fine between us. I did learn though that he is SO focused on the tangible that he refuses to believe in the things that cannot be seen or proven with science. That's ok. The world needs people like me and people like him to function. I now know that he's going to tease me for believing in magic, and I'm going to quietly think he's ignorant for denying the possibility. There is so very much possibility. It's not worth arguing about, neither of us is going to change the other person's mind. He has his journey, and I have mine.

I started exploring my ghostie side here fairly recently by starting to tell you stories of things that have gone on around my house (still periodically smelling pot, even though no one in the house smokes it, and this time, all the windows are shut), but it's been fairly quiet since the last roomie left and some of my stories are so old, I have forgotten the details.

Also, for understandable reasons if you believe that stuff, it's scary to hop back into it. I know things now that I didn't know then, you know? Yes, I am being vague. I'm being vague because the more I talk about it, the more I can feel them gathering and I'm not ready for that right now.

The point is, that one day I clicked on Liv's bookmark and she announced the next step in her journey. And without hesitation, I said yes. It's rare these days that I don't waffle back and forth between should I and shouldn't I, especially when it comes to spending money and especially when it comes to committing to something that might take a bit of time. I'm an online free college dropout. And one of those online creativity workshop flakes.

This time, I didn't think, I just said yes.

I haven't questioned that. This morning, when I clicked on the bookmark, it occurred to me that I should share this with you. And it turns out, that her post this morning was about that. Not in a pushy, get as many people to sign up as possible kind of way, Spirit told her to encourage her people to share, and I learned that right after it told me to share too. So I'm telling you about this course that I am about to start in December, that makes all the hair on my body stand up, which means it's the right thing for me.

Perhaps it is the right thing for you too. Maybe this post makes you think I'm nuts. That's okay. You're on your own journey, and it's not up to me to change your mind. I love you as you are.

Banishing the rain cloud

I have, of late, been running around with a rain cloud over my head. Not, literally, of course, but I can say that I have had a nasty, negative, stinky attitude about things over the last couple of years. It gathered and it festered until I wasn't saying much that was nice at all.

I'm not going to air my grievances. Firstly, it is not Festivus, and secondly, one does not regain their positivity by dwelling on the negative.

I tried to find the happy. I really did. Bratty would laugh at me as I would announce that I was not going to say anything negative for 10 whole minutes. Sometimes, that was a struggle. Sometimes, I failed at it. Shameful.

This. This Negative Nelly, is not who I am.

I've known for awhile that I need to reprioritize my life as I tend to have too many things going on. And I did start doing that. But it didn't really seem to be helping.

Then I took a road trip.

More about the actual trip later, but let me tell you, about 2 hours outside Reno, having sung for about an hour strait, alone, in my car, I felt the cloud dissipate.

What?

Was it the distance from Reno? Reno can be a pretty negative place. Things (and people) seem to just get stuck here.

Was it the singing? I don't sing very often lately. It's always made me feel better, but I typically listen to NPR because I like to be aware of current events. Plus, there's some interesting stuff on there.

Was it the excitement of seeing my family? Maybe but in that case, I would have noticed it before.

It doesn't matter. All that matters is that I was suddenly feeling like my old bonny self again.

Since I can't really leave the city where I live, I am trying to see it in a more positive light. And I only listen to NPR in the mornings on my way to work. I realized that the state of the world is pretty depressing. And the view of it I was getting was of war and strife. Terror and conflict. I know this isn't the whole world picture, but if you watch or listen to the news, the news reports all the drama. So less news. The afternoons and evenings are for music.

It's working. Although I still get frustrated and sometimes downright angry, I've managed to maintain my positivity. Suddenly, other people seem more positive too. Maybe it's because I'm not bringing the asshole into the equation, maybe it's because I am seeing them in a happier light.

It doesn't matter. Because things are really, really good.

What? you don't need to lose weight!

Thank you for that, Frances.

Many moons ago I talked about how I never really learned to eat properly and how it is a struggle for me to overcome my disorderly eating.

I'm happy to report that things have gotten much better. I tend towards three meals per day and a snack, which works well for me. I've been drinking plenty of water.

Now, I'm learning to eat better (except that I have rediscovered Top Ramen after 20 years of avoiding it). I'm not going to pretend to be eating all my veggies, (I WILL however eat pea crisps by the bagful, so that counts, right?)  but by watching my calorie intake, I am learning to make better choices.

I've also been working out several days per week in an effort to lose some poundage. I know where I want to be, and it's coming off slowly. My measurements are looking good though so even if the scale doesn't go down, I know I am getting to be more healthy.

I want to make good habits.

My coworker Frances insisted today that I don't look like I need to lose any weight, but she doesn't see me without my clothes on (as it should be!). I appreciated her vote of confidence. I also know that I've gotten a bit lazy since I stopped skating full time and I want to be able to recapture that fitness.

Diet. Fitness. Surely there's a third thing I'm supposed to be tending?

The Game was GREAT!

I don't remember any of it. If you follow me on twitter, I suspect you knew that. Once again, my phone needs a breathalyzer.

I dropped said phone into the bleachers. Thankfully it didn't go far. But then I worried about what else I dropped in the bleachers and spent most of the game looking for 2 pairs of gloves and a very nice scarf that I KNEW I had put in my pocket even though HM said I didn't.

He was right. He says I need to trust him about these things and I... Didn't have a reasonable response because he's right.

Either way, good times. We accidentally matched outfits so I'd say that was a win too.

Apparenlty, I did good

I showed up to work today, which was actually last week, but, whatever, with my new sporty look.

The male coworker who originally gave me a hard time for wearing red on Homecoming weekend? Practically applauded. Then he asked me to name one player on Nevada's team and I had to admit that although I LOOK like I know what's going on, I really don't. He made sure that I know that the starting quarterback's name is Cody. "I think I can remember that", I said, "I dated a Cody and also had a goat named Cody. We should be good". Then he gave me crap about football-y stuff and had a good laugh. I'm okay with that, I laugh at me too. (BTW, I'm not FOOTBALL ignorant, just college football ignorant. Clearly, that will have to change.) Plus, it's fun when that coworker gets all silly and excited about stuff because ordinarily, he is quite stoic.

And our courier says I'm rockin' the look and that I did a good job.

Which means I'm super excited for HM to see what I came up with. It makes me feel all girly and stuff. Which is good. It kind of makes me wish that I had bought something in nylon with holes in it sooner.

Not really. I hate this shit. But since it's a "jersey" I can deal.

Part 7 - Only I can milk a few days of shopping this long...

After my local gigantic sporting goods store yielded higher prices than I was willing to pay for logo gear to a school I did not attend, I went back to Target, figuring that I could wear a compression bra to make the shirt fit better. Take away my boobs, and I suddenly don't have a pin-head and I actually look slender. I always wondered why anyone would want a minimizer bra...

Since the day before, when I was there last, Target had shirts in my size. I went for the jersey style and bought a warm shirt to layer under it. My friend Countessa had already offered to loan me her parka from when she played softball for the college and I had picked up some leggings at the Old Navy Outlet for a very reasonable price to wear under my jeans.

FINALLY satisfied with my prize, I headed home.

The game better be good. In fact Nevada had better win it.

Although the process was REALLY frustrating, I am kind of glad I went through it. I'll be thinking twice before I buy something, and checking the fabric and the seams a little more closely. I work to hard to throw away my paychecks on garbage.

Part 6 - Seriously? Part 6?

I did what any other person would so in my situation, I bitched on Facebook, and received a few welcome suggestions on where to pick up a shirt in town.

I hit the hospital near my work. While they had a great selection, their prices were high and shirts, while better quality, were thin. Even the outerwear was thin. If the wind is going to blow right through a fleece jacket, you may as well not spend 50 bucks on the fleece jacket. I was less angry with the purchasing agents at the hospital because, it's a hospital, not a clothing store.

I returned to work where I had my epiphany.

I'm no longer going to spend my hard earned dollars on mediocrity.

I thought that should be big and bold. Because it's important and I hope more people adopt this philosophy. We buy a lot of crap, us Americans. And by buying crap and accepting low quality, we are telling buyers and manufacturers that this is acceptable. Suddenly, all we can get is crap and then we bitch about it.

I know this means that I will have to pay more for what I want. That there will be less impulse buys of stuff because it was cheap. But I also fail to see why that is a bad thing. I think I will save money in the long run because I won't have to replace crappy stuff AND when it comes to clothes, I'll feel better about myself because I won't be worried about whether you can see my belly button through the incredibly thin shirt I am wearing. Self confidence is worth a few more dollars.

Meanwhile, in my own products, I will have to ensure that what I produce is top notch. I already have standards, but I think I need to raise the bar if I am going to expect other producers to raise the bar as well.

This also means I'm going to have to quit talking about it and dump AT&T as my internet provider because the service I am getting from them is sub par.

Yes, I am totally calling out brand names and big companies because I know they have web crawlers out looking for this stuff. And good. I hope they are listening. I know for certain that AT&T didn't hear me when I told their CSR that their service was unreliable. I know because it is STILL unreliable.

Part 5 - An Angry Shopper can be dangerous

I arrived at Kohls hoping to find what I was looking for. Although they did have some cute shirts in Women's sizes, and I did try one on, I just couldn't bring myself to buy it.

The quality was poor. Really poor. "This won't survive my washing machine" poor. And tissue thin. There's snow in the hills right now. These shirts, would be better sold in the desert. The Sahara Desert, not the high desert of Nevada. Suddenly I was cranky all over again, because they were trying to sell me a shirt, which was very inappropriate for the climate where I live, for $25, which, having handled the logo merchandise for the Reno Roller Girls for over 5 years, I knew cost $2. Maybe less. They buy a lot more of them than I could ever afford for RRG and I was paying $10 per shirt printed (Women's. Men's shirts are WAY cheaper) . For WAY better quality. (I'm a big fan of District Clothing by the way, if ever you are looking to get something printed) I said it on Facebook, and I will say it again. Russell Athletics should be ashamed to put their brand name on such a low quality garment. And the buyers at Kohls should consider the quality they are putting in their stores. If the quality had been higher, I would have paid the money.

I stomped around the store a bit to see if I could do better, but was unable to find anything suitable. I left and returned home, having visited 4 different stores without finding a shirt I could wear to work or the game, which was rapidly approaching.

Part 4 - The longest shopping story ever

Back to Target I went, this time hitting the OTHER Target. I returned the too-small shirt intending to exchange it but there was no XL. In the shirt I wanted. I briefly considered going for a jersey style shirt, but they were a little more expensive and they didn't have an XL in that one either.

To Wal Mart. The selection there consisted of Men's shirts or Juniors sizes in bright pink. I don't wear bright pink, and I know for a fact that HM won't be seen in public if I am wearing that color. Hell, don't blame him, I won't be seen in my HOUSE in that color.

Now, I am cranky. I'm angry with the buyers at these major shopping chains who don't do their due diligence in discovering the popular sizes. I'm angry because the options are limited if you are a woman, and quite frankly, it tends to be the women who do the shopping for these things. I could have chosen a shirt for HM in five minutes that I am confident he would like, but for myself, there was nothing. Unless I wanted something ill-fitting or age inappropriate.

I'm really trying to class it up. I've been retiring some of my tighter, low cut shirts in favor of better fit and less cleavage. I know, that sounds completely unlike anything I have said before, but truthfully, while that stuff was okay in my 20's I'm in my mid thirties now. I don't want to be that old lady with her boobs hanging out everywhere all the time. (Derby doesn't count.) It's past time for me to aim for Ann Taylor instead of Anna Nicole Smith.

I headed to Kohls, already bordering on irate.

Part Three - The Journey Begins

Knowing that I was going to be needing some Nevada logo gear and also knowing that I needed a gift for my favorite twins, I headed over to Target.

While there, I found birthday cards, neat stuff I didn't buy, no presents for the twins, and a shirt. Score! mission accomplished at the first store. WOOHOO!

They didn't have a large selection, but they had a few things in Junior's sizes that were okay. The Women's cut shirts looked like they were better off in the rag bin. Very low cut, cheap material and not at all cute. Whatever, I can wear a Juniors cut as long as it's an extra large. The shirts available in this cut were better quality, not low cut, and a reasonable price. All they had was large.

Okay. Well, I've been working out and eating better (shut up Top Ramen) so perhaps I can wear a large. I headed out and across the street to Total Wine where I found gifts for the twins and plenty of my favorite vodka for me.

Upon arriving home I discovered that I could not, indeed, wear that shirt.

Damnit.

Part two - Gauntlets have been thrown

Last Friday, I was sitting at my desk in my favorite white oxford shirt (I can't help it. I feel a little more classy in a white button down with jeans instead of a sweater or a tee shirt) supporting my local college team by wearing the right color, when our courier came by.

Sometimes, if she has a bit of time, we chat a little.

She asked me where my Wolf Pack Logo Gear was and I explained that even after 6 years of living in Reno, I don't have any.

Oh boy. Wrong answer.

I learned that this is not acceptable. That I need to head down to my local ANY store RIGHT AWAY and pick up a tee shirt. I've always thought it is a little silly to wear the logo gear of a school you have not attended, but when in Rome, you do as the Romans do. It turns out, I would have to go shopping.

Not long after, my friend came along and offered me tickets to an upcoming game. I took them with the caveat that I would return them if I wasn't going to use them, and I called HM.

When HM learned that I did not have any Nevada logo gear, he announced that he wasn't going to be seen with me unless I was wearing some.

Now I REALLY have to go shopping. But I didn't mind, I had seen those shirts all over the place and wasn't worried about finding something suitable right away.

Boy, was I wrong.

An intro to the football shopping saga

I live in a college town. A college town without an NFL team. A college town without an NFL team that LOVES some football.

I like football too. On Sundays, I can be seen wandering about my business in my Chargers tee shirt (I have to buy them down south because up here, it's all about the Niners and the Raiders and while the Niners are okay, I won't even TOUCH a Raiders tee because I'm not a thug and I don't want Raiders cooties to rub off on me.)

I like football, but HM LOVES football. I'm learning a lot about the game from him and, while he has his favorite NFL team, Nevada tops his list of college teams, so he goes to the games when he can and tailgates and does all those things you are supposed to do at all football games, but I thought were exclusive to NFL games. I don't think I know anyone who goes to SDSU games. Maybe they do but don't talk about it. I don't know. I really only started getting into football when I was living with Poo because, Cowboys.

I have learned in the years that I have lived in Reno, that you are either a Nevada fan, or, shut up. This even bleeds into work where, on home game Fridays we are allowed and encouraged to wear our fan gear with jeans and show our pride. Pride in the Wolf Pack (which, interestingly, was my High School mascot as well. This caused some confusion when I moved here. With all those Pack stickers on people's cars, I thought I had moved to a hotbed of West Hills Alumni) but nobody else.

A couple of years ago,  I unknowingly wore a red shirt on homecoming weekend. I thought my coworker Rob was going to blow a gasket. I was ignorantly wearing the other team's color. Reno and Las Vegas have a pretty strong rivalry and there's something about a cannon that gets painted depending on who wins and gets to take it home. I don't know. Still learning.

Until last week, no one really said anything to me as long as I was wearing white or blue (not red!!). Last week, things got a little crazier.

It was a rant-y couple of days, but first, a recap

I went shopping. Which should, if you have been around for any length of time tell you everything. Sine I'm a butt head, I'm going to split my adventure into a few different posts because, well, I haven't been that great about writing and to be honest, I like the whole series writing idea rather that a big long diatribe that takes forever to get through.

So lets just say, that I went shopping and had an epiphany before it was over.

Yes I am a tease.

Things have been pretty good around the Elfin Cottage lately, I have a new roommate who doesn't drive me crazy (although I did have to leave a note asking her to corral her bananas due to my extreme allergy) and things are settling down. I had a couple of weeks of crazy, which aren't quite over yet, but I'm getting there. I've been working out and eating WAY too much Top Ramen, which tastes REALLY GOOD if you leave out the flavor packet and add a little Soy Vey Teriyaki instead.

Had a GREAT birthday, even if I did end up in bed by 8:30. But, this happens when you're drunk by noon. The day was made up of many adventures and perfect parts that I wouldn't have changed. Like breakfast with HM and picnic lunch under the trees with the girls. I am blessed in the people that I know.

I googly eyed just about everything that wouldn't be destroyed in the process. Did you know I have an Instagram account? If you ever want photos of my madness, look up gracenmotion (ginamonster was taken, as was soapgirl). There are a lot of pictures of googly eyes. and my dog.

Good times.

I can't win this game

If you know me at all, you know that I am not one of those fashion conscious sorts. I think about it, but typically decide that the current trends are too expensive, OR better suited to a 12 year old.

With the advent of Pinterest, however, I get so see all sorts of outfits that I would wear if I had the money to buy them. In the meantime, at work I wear work appropriate, at home, it's jeans and tee shirts.

The other night, I was advised not to roll my pants. You see, I am too tall for "short" pants and too short for "regular" so sometimes my pants are a little long. I HATE walking on my pants so I will roll them up once to keep them off the floor. I am admittedly too cheap and lazy for hems, but appreciative of the occasional fashion advice.

Today I was thinking that I would like to upgrade my look which means shopping at places like Banana Republic instead of Wal*Mart and Target. I'm okay with this, I need to start dressing like a grown up instead of a street urchin in hand me downs. I FEEL BETTER about myself when I look good.

I went to the BR website, and then to the Gap where it turns out that current style dictates that I should be rolling up my pants.

Nice.

Where I'm at

I'm in a funny spot, overall.

In many ways, things are just fine. No real complaints. I'm a complainer, so I will always have SOME sort of complaint. But nothing that is really solid. Things are pretty darn good.

But jobwise, I need to start looking at where I want to be in 5 years. I haven't really done that before. Actually, I've been just allowing life to happen because it seems like every time I make a plan, it gets derailed.

It's been awhile since things have gone upside down and I am feeling confident that they will remain even keel. I have a more settled lifestyle than I did before. I make different decisions.

Bubbly Creations will always remain plan A. And I am fired up these days to make a go of it. Work harder and smarter on marketing and other places that I tend to ignore. I'm also finally ready to start leveraging the assistance of the people who have been offering it over the last 8 years. If I want to be successful, I need to use my tools. And I can't keep trying to do it on my own.

Plan B? I don't know yet. I know that BC is not going to sustain me or to get me ahead soon enough for me to do it full time until all that work I should have started years ago flowers. That might take a year or two. In the mean time, I still have a mortgage and credit cards to pay and a lifestyle to maintain. Even simple lifestyles cost money.

So I will start working on Plan B too. Where do I want to be in 5 years? I'm not sure. But it's not where I am at. There's nothing wrong with my job, I am grateful for it,  but I know I am capable of more. So much more. So my plan is to look at the opportunities at the company where I work and see what is available. To choose one and make a conscious effort at getting to that level, whatever that level might be. I have ideas about where I DON'T want to be, but until I know what else I want to do, I can't move forward.

I've never done that before. I've always gone elsewhere when I needed to better my position. It's possible that I will need to do just that. Moving companies though, that means starting over. Getting to know a new group of people. Proving my worth all over. Waiting for medical coverage and vacation days. Also, it feels like when I move companies I take a step back in many ways. I don't want to take any more steps back. Forward.

Forward so that I can do things like put a new roof on the house. Fix the fence. Landscape? Oh landscaping would be lovely. 5 years, make my house a better one and buy something new(er). Something with built in sprinklers and maybe air conditioning. Rent out the Elfin Cottage to a little family starting out and not sweat including the refrigerator and washer/dryer set in the rent. Make sure they have a good water heater since the one in the house now was purchased at a store that went out of business close to 20 years ago. Have the money in the bank that will cover a new dishwasher if they need it or anything else that might go sideways. I've been told that the number to hit is $10,000. I'm partway there.

Forward so that I can take a vacation once in awhile. A friend of mine is going to Thailand in October. I could go, but it would empty my savings account. Worth it for the experience, but not for the stress of losing my cushion. Also, that would put me behind in the goal I set out above.

Forward. In 5 years I'll be 41. I don't feel that old. It's not old. But life keeps moving even if I don't want to. I have to move with it. And that's where I'm at. Today.