Progress thus far

So I just looked over my goals from my New Year's post. Want a progress update? Here it is: No progress. Yep, it's not even February yet and I've failed. I didn't even have the stamina of the New Year's exercisers who cause Steve to avoid the gym until they fizzle out.

On the bright side, here are some things I have accomplished since that post:

• Spent an inordinate amount of time on Facebook, mostly looking at pictures of people I never talk to anymore.
• Watched last week's episode of The Office THREE times. My priorities are in order, yes?
• Rented Mama Mia from Redbox and consequently did a lot of singing in my kitchen (for the record - Soundtrack: yes! Movie: not so much. As Steve said, "James Bond, how far you've fallen.").
• Stalked my favorite blogs approximately 500 times a day, just to make sure I hadn't missed an update. (I hadn't - it's like some kind of blogging famine struck.)
  
• Talked to Hannah on the phone about studying for the GRE. (Hey, talking about it is at least a step in the right direction...right?)
• Realized it's been a VERY long time since I took a math class and that I had forgotten the meaning of the word "hypotenuse." (Do YOU remember? I took a random poll at work and most people didn't.)
• Wikied "hypotenuse." (That's sort of studying...right?)

But failure is the first step to success, right? And who wants to be trendy and jump right on all their goals in January anyway? February is the month for me, I can feel it. Look out standardized testing, here I come!

Hypochondriac little me

Have I mentioned that I'm a bit of a hypochondriac? I am. A teensy bit. The irony is that in all my self-diagnoses, I never once suspected myself of it. I'd probably still be blissfully ignorant if my roommate Alicia hadn't pointed it out my last year of college. Luckily, Alicia is very tactful so when I asked her if she thought I should go to the hospital for a side ache I was sure had to be appendicitis and she said, "You know Kate, I think you might be a bit of a hypochondriac," I took it in stride.

And she was right - it wasn't appendicitis. Indigestion would probably be closer to the truth. I wish I could say that was the first time, but it wasn't. In fact, I can't tell you how many times I've lain awake at night with some kind of stomachache and debated waking up a roommate to take me to the ER. I CAN tell you how many times I've had actual appendicitis: zero.

Anyway, my mom has this medical book from a general medicine class she took. It's probably a bit (or significantly) outdated since it's older than me, but for some reason that book is gospel to me. Any time I get worried about a weird ache or pain, I call my mom. It goes like this:

"Mom, can you get The Book out?"

"The medical book?" (Really she doesn't need to ask. I've never asked about any other one.)

"Yeah. I think I have ________ (insert potentially fatal symptom)."

"OK," (completely unconcerned - after 25 years she knows where this is going) "I'm getting it. What's wrong?"

"Well, I have ______ (insert completely generic and not-likely-to-be-even-remotely-fatal, but COULD possibly be linked to cardiac arrest, symptom)."

"How long has that been going on?"

"At LEAST 20 minutes now."

"Mmmmhmmm. And what other symptoms do you have?"

I explain, she consults The Book (yes, I realize we have the Internet and WebMD now, but The Book just seems so much more...authoritative) and comes back with,

"It sounds like it's probably _______ (insert completely benign diagnosis). But if you pass out or have trouble breathing, you should go to the doctor."

I've developed quite a list of possible diseases, all of which have proved to be unfounded. I mentioned appendicitis (a repeat offender), here are some more.

I thought I had...	It was actually...
A tumor	A really big knot in my back
MS	Two strained leg muscles
Carpal Tunnel	Nothing at all
A parasite	An aversion to lactose (this one was at least something
Diabetes (I think this was the one to tip Alicia off)	Nothing at all.
An allergic reaction to a bee sting	Just a normal bee sting

What I find strange about all of this (and why I never suspected myself to be a hypochondriac), is I rarely go to the doctor. I may contemplate it quite a bit, but the symptoms usually disappear by the time I get around to it. And when I actually have something legitimately wrong with me, I'm sure I don't. Two winters ago when I had bronchitis, for example, I waited weeks to go to a doctor because I was sure it was just a cough and would go away on its own.

Anyway, what prompted this whole foray into my neurotic tendencies is that now that I'm aware of this quirk, I try to be extra cautious not to let my mind run away with minor symptoms. So every once in a while, I think, "Hey, that whole lactose intolerance thing is probably just in my mind. I probably hypochondriac-ed the whole thing up." And I eat some cheesecake to prove it to myself. I did this experiment again on Sunday (you think I would have learned by now) and for the record, it's not in my mind.

Resolute

I realize I'm a few days late with the whole New Year's resolutions thing, but that's life. I was freshly inspired to make some new goals after we talked about self-improvement today in church. Elder Richard G. Scott of the LDS church has encouraged taking the following inventory:

• What are my highest priorities to be accomplished while on earth?
• How do I use my discretionary time? Is some of it consistently applied to my highest priorities?
• Is there anything I know I should not be doing?

I think I am (for the most part at least) clear on my priorities, but the part about discretionary time stung just a little - I'm pretty sure "What Not to Wear" isn't doing much to further most of said priorities (although I am a firm believer that indulging in a guilty pleasure from time to time is healthy). So, here are my "discretionary time" resolutions (#1 should probably be Find more discretionary time - seriously, I don't have much these days so I'll be careful not to be overly ambitious). I'm not posting them to intentionally bore anyone who might read this, but because there's nothing like a little public accountability to motivate me to actually KEEP my resolutions. Feel free to check up on me throughout the year - I can usually use a kick in the pants with stuff like this.

1. School for the non-student: read one non-fiction book each month...or at least every other month (nothing like hedging your goals to guarantee success, right?).
2. More school: study for the GRE. I'm not sure where the next couple of years will take us, but I'd like to go back to school eventually and I want to keep my options open.
3. TAKE the GRE this year. It's been a long time since I took a test. Also, I don't tend to respond well to disappointing scores. Um, yikes.
4. Start WRITING for real - I need to put together a portfolio to apply to the program I'm interested in and I don't think blogging counts. Darn.

That's probably enough for now - I suffer from what I'll call Overwhelm Paralysis. Basically, if I feel like I have too much to do, I just don't do anything (except maybe garner fashion advice I can't afford to follow from Stacy and Clinton or spend way too much time learning about football from my sports-savvy hubby).

I have other goals too - you know, the normal spiritual/exercise/nutrition/budget kinds of things pretty much everyone else wants to do too. I'll post those on my fridge or something and hope that's public enough to keep me on my toes.

Hipzy

So I have a tendency to use the phrase, "I know, right?" on a semi-regular basis. One of my co-workers asked what on earth that was supposed to mean (thereby implying that it was a silly thing to say), so in an attempt to defend myself, I looked it up in the Urban Dictionary. If you click the link above, you'll see a variety of definitions, ranging from

• expression of corroboration; much cooler than "i told you so" or "yes."

to

• A way to express the concept of "yes" if you are not quite articulate enough to say that mighty imposing word.

Instead of feeling validated, I started to wonder if my frequent use of this apparently controversial phrase makes me hip, or just ditzy. Perhaps, as my co-worker suggests, it makes me HIPZY. I'm OK with that.

A little slack, please

A recently added benefit at my place of employment is free emotional counseling. Maybe the announcement schedule had something to do with the economy (or if not on purpose, it's pretty dang good timing).

Anyway, what with the economy, the prevalence of the winter blues and the whole holiday season (which unfortunately is not always joyful for everyone), I support this measure. I think free counseling is a great thing, and probably more people should have access to stuff like this - so please don't misconstrue what I'm about to say.

To spread the word about this new service, there is now a poster in the HR office advertising counseling resources. It's pretty much the most depressing picture of a distraught woman I've ever seen, and if you're not depressed already, you will be after walking past the poster. But whatever, maybe people can really relate to that. Fine. What gets me is, on this poster, in the middle of a large HR office, are tear-off mini fliers you can take for more information.

Now come on. How many people are going to tear one of those off as they walk by on their way for a coffee break? "Hey, hang on a second Frank - I could really use a little help right now, lemme just grab a counseling flier real quick." (But seriously - props if you would. That's guts.) I mean, can't they provide an easy to remember Web address for folks to check out later in the privacy of their own home or cubicle?

All I'm sayin' is, there's still a full stack of fliers there, and I am not surprised. Miss Hane-nah, can I get a "Smatchoo?"

This feeling is not unique to the holiday season

I was feeling quite pleased with myself because it's still 10 days before Christmas and our gifts are neatly wrapped and under the tree (well, most of them at least). The feeling of accomplishment never lasts long, though. About 1.5 seconds after I finished cleaning up the wrapping paper, I realized that thanks to me spending Saturday finishing up the shopping and wrapping, the rest of my house did not get cleaned or organized.

It's like I have to pick and choose what gets done - and none of it will ever be finished at the same time. I can't be the only one to feel like this. . . . Right?

Merciless? Who, me?

I don't do cutthroat very well. By that, I mean I generally enjoy things (at least slightly) less when I know someone else had to suffer for me to get what I wanted. (This does not apply to situations involving couch covers. I have no problem being content with mine even if it causes my husband mild trauma.) I feel guilty bumping people back to Start in games like Sorry and Trouble, so it naturally follows that I am TERRIBLE at Monopoly.

Don't get me wrong - I like to win. I just feel guilty taking away other people's accomplishments (or money). Scrabble, for example, is ideal. You don't delete anyone's words or kick their letters off the board and everyone gets to stay in the game; someone just has a higher score at the end.

Anywho, my first experience playing Monopoly with Steve was on a double date with a friend of his. I lost all my money and what little (if any, I don't honestly remember) property I had managed to accumulate in what must have been a record amount of time. Apparently, our relationship comfort level had not yet reached the point where Steve could mock me for my miserable effort, so he quietly tried to give me some of his property and money to help me save face and stay in the game. He didn't make that mistake again. Pity Monopoly money? Please.

Since our initial Monopoly adventure, we have purchased the Speed Die version to make the slaughterings less drawn-out and painful, but the rest of our Monopoly experiences have been similar...(dramatic pause)...until last night.

That's right folks. On Tuesday, December 9, 2008, for quite possibly the first time ever, I WON Monopoly (I won at Monopoly? I'm not really sure what the grammatically correct way to say that is). In a game of four players, I managed to heartlessly take everyone's cash, force them to mortgage everything they owned, and then ridiculously overcharge them for vacations on Pennsylvania Avenue. And I loved every minute of it. In fact, there may or may not have been a bit of sass on my part as I took my husband's last $20 bill.

Oh and hun? Remember how you stopped playing Scrabble with me after you beat me one game? I think I understand now. And I just might be done with Monopoly - I think I'll quit while I'm ahead ;)