I'm not stressed - beyond the stress induced by your telling me how stressed I am

For some curious reason I thought that Adult I, the term I endured last fall with my father's death three weeks into the term, would be my toughest one. The tests were hard, the midterm brutal, a quarter of my class didn't pass the term, but somehow I got through on emotional fumes and managed to get high honors. Well this term, which is my critical care expereince, is kicking my ass and making me long for the seemingly easier pains of fall. I don't know what has gone wrong for me mentally, emotionally but I'm doing so poorly this term and it's killing me. Okay, now I'm not failing but my grade it's nowhere close to that high honors zone I usually shoot for. And I do that for a reason I need a huge cushion from being near the failing zone so by my final I can be like, I can miss 60 questions out of 120 and still pass. And the thing is, having solid footing with the academic, testing part of the schooling, well it made clinicals (which fill me with panic) bearable. Like I didn't worry quite so much because at least I had the 'I'm doing well with my tests' in my back pocket. Now I have nothing. I have cried way too many times at clinical already this term. All my clinical instructors keep talking about is how I need to relax which brings to mind the house quote I titled this post with. I've cried too many times in front of too many different instructors. I feel like I have no reserves to put forth in terms of getting through this term. I have a midterm tomorrow which I've been studying for but part of me wonders if I should back off on the studying because I usually get many a question wrong by completely over thinking the answer. Going above and beyond the black and white type in front of me. I don't know where my head is lately, just know I want to successfully complete this term and have it behind me already. And the ICU experience, it's killing me. I feel like an alien with all the nurses there. Almost all of them are in their early to mid twenties and have the type of personality, well I doubt I would have fit in even at their age but now it's painful how different I am personality-wise from everyone else and then there's the 15 + year age gap on top of it. I just don't think the same way. I don't find the ICU thrilling, I think it's terrifying and dehumanizing. My patient would have painful things done to her (procedures, nothing intentionally painful) and no one even looked at her or really talked to her, aside to make a joke like 'oh that must have hurt, like a bikini wax.' I held her hand and would look in her eyes and squeeze her hand gently when I could see that she was scared or in pain because God knows I'd want someone to do that for me if I was in the ICU and my family wasn't around at the time. And why do I wind up feeling like I'm the only one who thinks that stuff matters. I'm good at hand holding and listening, not so good at the other stuff. It's so fucking lonely. Like being an outsider in high school without a friend to commiserate with over how fucked up things are. All the other students are just loving this term, I guess when you're young it's sort of an adrenaline rush. And yes ICU is a great place to be in terms of increasing your critical thinking and the skills attached to reacting quickly to crisis situations. But all of that completely enervates me. I just want to help the geriatric (or possibly pediatric) community with mental illness. For whatever reason the psych stuff doesn't scare me and I understand the information I learn very easily, I just get it. Fortunately there are instructors who look out for me, one in particular helps me feel better when I'm teary and overwhelmed with not fitting in. I'm sure she thinks I'm neurotic as all hell but she's very nice to me and helps me out. Keep your fingers crossed. Seven weeks down, seven more to go.

thigh envy

I would kill to have thighs that looked like this! Good lord to be 43 and able to wear a skirt that high? Although there's another couple photos of her straight on and her thighs are so thin I think you could throw a baseball between her legs without hitting them,. Honestly. And with her feet together. She's got the body of a teenager with nary the littlest dimple of cellulite. On top of that this CD is very good. I got hooked with the song, Lonely Love, that has Richard Butler singing backup. I had her first two CDs, well copies of them from an old boyfriend, and I'd sort of forgotten about her until a friend picked this up and I've been listening to it ever since. I'm on a nostalgic music kick. Listening to psychadelic furs, love spit love, well anything with Richard Butler and the Fixx on my shuffle for the gym. Okay, I've got to go back to studying. Had my presentation on Friday, I wish I didn't get nervous speaking in front of people. Test tomorrow, then the hospital and then my midterm next Monday. So please, send prayers, cross fingers and/or toes, good vibes, anything positive my way that I get through this term without failing, or succumbing to heart failure from the stress.

My Grandma died yesterday morning. My Mom called me at 5:20 before I went to the hospital for the day. Not the best time to let me know but I guess there's never a good time for learning someone you love has died. She had just been transferred from the assisted living facility she had been living at for over four years (over two of them while on hospice) to Forbes regional hospice located within West Penn hospital. At least her last hours were in a facility that provided her peace. Unlike the assisted living facility where she would get agitated at night and no one would give her medication to alleviate her pain or anxiety because there was no LPN or RN on staff at that time. So she stayed up all night and suffered, we found out last week. I know it's a looong way off but please think of your parents, your loved ones, yourself. Consider a skilled nursing facility before you go to an assisted living center. Over the past week my grandma would keep repeating 'please don't hurt me.' it's not a memory you want, worrying about who might have hurt her or what exactly happened to scare her so. And hospice, be careful which one you choose, more than that, ask for another nurse if you get some religious whack job taking care of you or your loved one who doesn't believe in being liberal with the morphine or thinking it's premature to put someone on continuous care, because when a person is actively dying they are in a lot of pain and agitation and for God's sake be a wee bit compassionate and give them the morphine and ativan they require. My Grandma was under 80 pounds and a month shy of 96, that her life was dragged out to literally dying bit by bit is a travesty and something I hope no one else ever suffers through or watches a loved one suffer through. I love you Grandma. I hope you're finally at peace now. You were so darn nervous but such a dear sweet, smart beautiful lady. I truly hope you realize the gift you were now.

I have to give a presentation on Friday about noxious stimuli and maximizing stimulus response. If you don't know what I'm talking about don't worry, I didn't either until yesterday in class during my neuro assesment lecture. It's basically about eliciting a response in an unresponsive patient with the last resort, pain. And the instructor kept stressing how we should be creative with our presentations. And me and my sick mind I instantly went to Marathon Man with the dental torture scene and then to the whole S&M scene. Especially since one of the pain responses I remember seeing, and actually blurted out in class, was pinching the nipples. Which I think caused more than a few of the nine other students in my class to raise an eyebrow, my instructor somehow managed to keep a straight face. But when she mentioned it again I said that I remembered that from an episode of House and then, everyone was like 'oh, of course' and went off on how House makes all these medical gaffes, like I've mentioned before. But the thing is I'm trying to look up these various methods of arousing a response. And a lot of people say never do the nipple twist (apparently it's a twist, not a pinch, and that is what Foreman did to House when he was found not breathing) but then these online forums say that's the one things that elicits a response when all else fails. What are the other methods of noxious stimulus you ask? pressing down on the nailbed with the side of a pencil or pen (one commenter recommended a tongue depressor instead of a pen to avoid cross contamination), sternal rubs where you press (some say use your knuckles, others the palm of your hand) along a patient's sternum and firmly rub (this is supposed to be unbearably painful), pinching the trapezius muscle (not easy to do with a petite nurse and a larger patient), pinching an ear, pressing a finger firmly on the supraorbital bone (which can give a nasty headache but you can't do with a suspected face, skull fracture), and ... the Liverpool health service policy says 'genital pain may be used when other forms of recognised painful stimulus have failed to elicit a response from the patient. It is not to be used as a first line assessment of patient response to stimulus by staff.' How in the world am I to give this presentation with a straight face? I mean it would be 'creative' if I dressed up as a dominatrix but then we get graded on wearing appropriate attire for the presentation so I think that's out. The odd thing is why is the nipple twist so vilified when the other methods can also cause pain and bruising, the sternal rub is just as painful if not more so. It's like the parent that is vehemently against spanking but has no problem pinching their child or digging their nails in the child's arm hard enough to leave a mark. Now I'm not advocating spanking, pinching, nipple twists, any of this stuff! And God knows I'm not looking to have my nipples twisted if I was a patient in the ICU. Why couldn't I have gotten a cranial nerve for my presentation. WHY?

Soo i have had these bags under my eyes since i was riddled with a sinus infection that lasted two months back in the fall. It took 3 rounds of antibiotics plus a steroid to finally kick. And yes I did wind up getting a cold two weeks after kicking that lingering infection. Go immune system! It's down the tubes thanks to stress, school, going to the hospital and caring for sick people... Anyhoo, these darn bags will not go away. It could be age, it could be stress or it could be allergies, which might have precipitated the sinus infection. And since you can treat allergies I met with an allergist today to see if that might be the reason behind my bags and annoying annual sinus infections. I wound up being there close to two hours because they put serum on my back, then pricked it and I waited around reading an old copy of Time which has me really wanting to run out and rent The Social Network until it was time for them to come back to see if I reacted to anything (one type of mold and one type of dust mite). I can go back in a month and get shots, which are stronger dosages, and I might come up positive on more. But... I saw my chart and what the doctor wrote under general appearance. Wan. My heart sank so low when I saw that. And to drive the nail a little deeper into the coffin of any remnant of self esteem I had left I looked it up on merriam webster so I could get the exact definition and commit it to memory. wan - a : suggestive of poor health : sickly, pallid b : lacking vitality : feeble. Okay, now it's not ugly, but that wouldn't be a medically appropriate adjective. Having any confidence about my appearance. Poof, and it's gone. With that one wee word. I won't even fill you in on the mortifying clinical week I had aside from telling you that I bawled on leaving the hospital Tuesday and wound up crying twice while at the hospital yesterday. And wound up crying again this morning when I ran into one of the instructors that I saw at the hospital yesterday. She's very kind to me and sometimes seeing that little door of kindness open when it feels like everything around me is going to hell, it's all I need to start the tears. Because this program is so fucking hard and it's not exactly like I have a partner to talk me off the cliff when it's all overwhelming. I come home to a cold, empty house, and one thing or another falling apart in it. And when the kids are here it's even worse because the weight of the guilt at how unavailable I am to them, while trying to keep from drowning in this program. Oh my. And I went to visit my grandmother with my mom after class today. My grandma is under 80 pounds, she looks like she's dying (now she looks wan) she could barely open her eyes, yet she keeps on going. It's like she's someone who actually might cheat death. Not really, but it's maddening to witness because her appearance alone can bring you to tears. She is literally dying piece by piece, she's been on hospice for over two years, which must be some kind of record. It's horrific. I think I'm ready to go to bed and just have this day be over. I'll dream about having enough money to shoot stuff in my face and plump the wanness right out of it.

finally finished nightstand

Because I am CHEAP one of the Christmas present Oona got from me was a nightstand that I finally got around to refinish, one year later. I got the piece for $10 at a yard sale, unfortunately when I stripped it the wood wasn't in good enough shape to stain so I had to repaint it. I love working on furniture, aside from the paranoia of inhaling lead paint fumes which I'm really hoping my green stripper that I use sort of neutralizes. See during my breaks from school is when I start fantasizing about owning a store where I sell furniture I redo and jewelry I make and crafty items I find. I just love crafty stuff and maybe this fantasizing is a good way to handle my stress with school. Good lord we have a test next monday where a good third of the test is understanding various heart arrhythmias (atrial and ventricular) and being able to figure them out from EKG readings and it is a lot to digest, not to mention knowing the medical conditions that correspond to said arrhythmias AND the medications you then use to treat them. My mind just doesn't latch onto this information the way it does other medical stuff, it just feels too abstract to me right now and if I can't contextualize my information I'm sort of a goner AND (once again, the panic inducing all caps and) it's twenty-five different rhythms! So... here's hoping I can make it gel this week. Wish me luck. Just in case you want to try you hand at understanding EKG rhythms you can go here and learn more, I'm sure you're all just dying to check out this site.

I was walking through Highland Park around dinnertime the other day and just liked the way the dormant hydrangea looked next to these puplish black pods thingies. Yes, obviously I am no master gardener. I have no idea what type of plant this is but I liked the contrast of the colors and that it was dark it made the contrast even more vibrant.

Off on running with school. Have had two full days learning to read EKG rhythms. Oh my it all makes sense until we go on to the next section of abnormal rhythms and then I'm like, wait I still have to remember all those ones before that I just learned. Gotta make space in my brain for this stuff to sink in. On the plus side Monday, after our lecture I caught a House episode where the patient went into super ventricular tachycardia and they need to cardiovert her and I understood what they were talking about. If nothing else, it makes my House viewing that much more enjoyable. Oh and one helpful bit of meaningless house gaffe trivia, they almost always put their stethoscopes on backwards on that show.

I hope everyone survived their holidays. Well I really hope people actually enjoyed their holidays, but I find this time more than a little stressful, so sometimes, just getting through them emotionally/psychologically intact makes them enjoyable. I not only got through adult 1 without winding up in the local psychiatric hospital (no small feat there given this fall) but I got high honors to boot. I don't like to toot my own horn but given the past few months I've had I'm very happy that I got through. A quarter of my class wound up with a D or worse, which means they have to retake the course again, and my heart breaks for them. Maybe it shouldn't, maybe they're not so upset, but I find this whole nursing school experience so unbelievably stressful, rewarding too, but man it really takes you to the brink in terms of seeing what you can handle. Let's see good things that have happened this past term. I had one horrible clinical instructor and two wonderful ones, one of whom I got along with especially well (when I started talking about how the computer system at the hospital drives me crazy the instructor was like 'I'm so jealous you're going to get one of those jobs in nursing with computers. Please take me with you if you do.' And as I look into nursing informatics, I don't know, it's like it would combine all the apparent dead ends in my life career wise and it would make sense and if that could work and I could get paid well and make a difference, oh my I would jump up and down with joy every day. Seriously.) I sort of collect, in my heart and head, these instructors who nurture me, because I need those good feelings to look back on during the very tough times. One charge nurse took me aside at the hospital one day, my stomach instantly dropped and I was trying to recount what I might have fucked up on, but she said that Mrs. G's students are always very good on the floor (medically complex floor) but she wanted to let me know that I was going to be paid very well and make an excellent nurse. That I was very gentle with the patients, asked questions of the staff in an assertive but gracious way and was quietly confident, she stressed that my not being loud was something her floor greatly appreciated and, unfortunately, I know what she means because I've heard other loud nursing students. I kept saying thank you and I swear I was close to crying what she said made me feel so good. Of course the next day my patient had altered mental status and insulted me most of the day, she didn't know better, but after my father yelling at me the day before he died, it cut a little too close to home. Then my instructor got upset because I was trying to fill out a pain reassessment (to document how the patient has responded to pain medication) and I didn't know what to put because she was so out of it she thought I was talking about paint not pain. And my instructor was mad at my dithering and I just burst into tears, not my finest moment. I'm telling you nursing school is like this emotional roller coaster but I made it through this term. I just need to think of Dory in Finding Nemo 'just keep swimming' and sort of maintain that attitude through the next 38 weeks of school. This term will probably be my toughest because it's the critical care term, so I'll be spending my clinical days in the ICU for the most part. God help me. I have clinical nightmares, where I forget to give medication or do the wrong thing, make horrible mistakes and feel so bad and guilty. I wish there was a drug I could take that could eliminate those bad dreams from my subconscious and put confidence boosting ones in their place. Anyhow I had such a long 'things to do' list that I wanted to cross my way through over my two and a half weeks off. I didn't cross off nearly as much as I would have liked to but I did read Freedom, which I highly highly recommend (I had to put the NPR link because he makes so many hysterical comments about NPR listeners in the book). I saw Black Swan which was good and The Fighter, which was better. I got some things done around the house but the stuff that needs to be done around here is like an avalanche I'm always running three feet in front of. I so look forward to the day when I no longer feel like there's an avalance behind me.

My resolutions for the New Year are
1. to wean my coffee intake to one large cup a day and drink water for the remainder of the day, eat more fruit and vegetables, limit my sugar and try to cut down on the processed food. yes i make this resolution every damn year but hopefully one of these days it will happen.

2. hula hoop everyday for fifteen minutes in addition to my usual gym routine. do not underestimate the enjoyable exercise that is the hula hoop.

3. try to get more friends locally, because I really have next to no social life in Pittsburgh (pathetic I know, but I'm really shy in person) and sure school is busy but it would be nice to go out for coffee or a movie or breakfast with someone aside from myself, my mom or my kids.

4. post more on this blog, even if it's just random photos.

5. do more creative stuff while in school, it's hard to carve out that time but I think it might be critical for my mental health to avoid becoming totally consumed with being a nursing student and only measuring myself through that lens. (wow! and I thought the mom lens was a particularly self critical one, nursing student is right up there with it).

To the few who read this I truly wish you all the very best. My old friends that I've loved for years and had wonderful experiences with and the new friend I met through the blogworld who I've never seen face to face but who fits right in with those I've known forever. Happy 2011!


christmas booty. the tree is topped with a fleece kitty that my kids got me for my birthday, oona said it was for me to sleep with when they aren't at my house. she's very sweet about worrying about me sleeping alone and will put her stuffed animals in my bed to keep me company. the tree ornaments are incredibly kid friendly thanks to my aunt joy sending me new ornaments every year.

oona never met a pattern she didn't like, or one that didn't go with another. i think if you asked her her favorite color it would be some pattern.

see that lavender tower in back, in the living room? the elves must have been drunk making that, at least that's what I told the kids, between muttered curses trying to snap the not quite right plastic parts into one another. what a flipping nightmare.

this picture cracks me up because owen sort of looks like those photos of politicians in the middle of making some crucial point about how they're right.

my kids love washing the dishes. the gloves are comically large on oona.

pictures of the highland park reservoir. for some reason this last one looks almost like it was taken with a fish eye lens to me. and it sort of looks austere and a bit melancholy

For close to three years now I've had a secret crush on this man that goes to the same gym as me. He looks a bit like Tim Roth and Eddie Munster. Oh, how desirable you say. Well he's like 95% Tim Roth and 5% Eddie Munster but I just can't deny that 5 %, although I'm sure he would. If I were ever to talk to him say. Yes this is someone I see pretty regularly, before school started almost daily. And in those three years I've maybe had three conversations with him. Two painfully awkward ones, in the presence of my children, in the elevator and one equally maladroit attempt at chatting when I saw him by myself. Oh and two and half years ago he smiled at me in the parking lot, I had driven back to retrieve my gym bag which I had left in the parking lot. So what do I do? Smile back? Hell no. I made this strangled gasp, grabbed my bag and ran around my car in a circle (it was like a chinese fire drill with myself) . Honestly it would have been harder to look more laughable. I mean he's married with two children, so there's no reason for me to be such an idiot around him, he's not even available. But I don't know what it is, some people just turn my insides to mush (brain included) and I become this middle aged infatuated moron. How attractive. On one hand I realize that if I were to talk to him, at length, like get to know him, this whole crush might be dispelled because he could very well be dull or dumb or close-minded or not funny, so in some incredibly bizarre masochistic sense it's good that I don't talk to him. And honestly what's the likelihood that I could talk to him without potent pharmaceutical intervention? But this way he forever maintains the status of being the man at the gym that makes me weak in the knees.

so with school and my avalanche of stressors (situational and self induced) which shows no signs of slowing i don't get much quality time with the kids so i'm going to start taking either owen or oona for a few hours on saturdays so i can just have fun time with them and reconnect because i'm feeling really lost from them since school started and it's a horrible feeling. yesterday i took owen biking (that's zoo traffic in the background, don't even get me started on that since the easiest way to my home is taking the same street zoo parking is on.) and then we had hot chocolate and brownies together and it was really nice and such a welcome break from my life of late.

has anyone seen a tree with these type of thorny growths on it before?

owen and i kept talking about how nasty looking it was and he was saying if the womping willow in harry potter had these type of thorns on the ends of it it would be even nastier a tree than it already is and no amount of pumpking juice could heal the wounds such a tree might mete out.

here's owen poking at one of the more benign thorn growths.

owen's making a peace sign which you can see on the large version of this picture, probably not so clear scaled down this much.

setting the bar low

Well, lower. I've gone from needing to be the top student in my class, to needing to get high honors this term, to maybe honors is enough, to why don't I just try to get through the term where I only visit WPIC (the psychiatric rotation in our clinical term) as a student observing and not as an actual patient being admitted. I know I am setting the bar real low here but i'm sort of crossing my fingers, hoping I can do it. I have a midterm on monday which I'll be studying for in every spare minute over the next three days (when i'm not procrastinating by writing or cleaning) because the tests this term are kicking my ass! Of course, it would help matters if my heart would comply with my body when I try to relax and focus but no. Thank you very much for the support in my previous post, you don't know how much that helps right now.

american beauty

I have wanted to write for so many weeks but I don't even know where to begin. I feel so raw from everything I've been going through for the past month. My father died on September 18th. I'm thankful that I was able to see him before he died and my children got to see him too. Owen was sensitive, as usual, and frightened by my father's appearance that had become horribly distorted from the cancer and medications. Oona was unfazed and ran up to hug him then twirl through the room. I spoke with my Dad on a Monday and he was fine. By Tuesday he couldn't talk clearly to me, the cancer took over his brain that quickly. Of course it also attacked his liver so the toxins in his body just went up to the brain, adding insult to injury. Death is not tidy. I just wanted to say goodbye to him and tell him not to worry, that I loved him and I would be okay, that he didn't need to worry about me. He yelled at me when I tried to feed him lunch the day we left. I know, intellectually, that it wasn't him. He was out of it cognitively, even when he yelled it was that he didn't want that medication that he thought I was giving him. But I bawled. It was the one time his eyes were open, bright blue and seemingly clear even though what he was shouting about made no sense. It was horrible. And I don't want that to be what I remember. And his siblings keep telling me not to worry about the 'cross words I had with my dad at the end' which isn't even accurate and that I was his pride and how much he loved me and it just feels so empty. And is it just bitchy of me to feel that way? Oh and to top it off, the last day we were in Cleveland I discovered that my children were completely infested with lice. I'd wanted to stay until Saturday, which is the day my father died, but I couldn't see how I could do that with the lice in a hotel. I was overwhelmed. I came home to start the nitpicking and laundry (which took on Fantasia proportions). My first test in school was that Monday. I'm phoning it in with school, I mean I'm trying but I get these waves where I'm just crushed with how bad I feel. I have trouble eating (so I look horrible!) the past month I've been feeling like my body is in a state of a permanent panic attack. Oh and did I mention that the bulk of my student loan went towards paying for my father's cremation? I just want to sleep, if my racing heart will let me. But actually I really need to study because I've got another test tomorrow and a midterm next Monday, nursing school doesn't stop and I'm not supposed to either.

So... I started writing poetry.. Because isn't that what everybody does at a point of crisis in their lives? Someone I love gave me this book over the summer and I loved it and it made me want to write again. Even if it winds up being the poor man's version of this book. I can just write my poetry memoir, minus the anorexia, plus the bulimia and with a lot more alcohol consumption (and boyfriends!) and file it away and not have those memories gnawing at me. This poem isn't breaking properly on the blog but I can't figure out how to make that work right now. I'm just happy I was able to type a somewhat coherent post at this point.


American Beauty

My dress for prom was shiny satin, sweetheart neckline, the color
a deep fuschia. The lady at the store wore a corsage of pins on her wrist
that she plucked from to take in my waist
She deemed it amercian beauty rose through lips pressed tight
over the steel petals in her mouth. I fell for the fancier name.
My shoes were dyed to match. Junior prom and I was bringing him.
But I had on the necklace you gave me, a synthetic stone hung
from the thinnest gold chain. I never found it pretty.
But it was enough to remember the smile on your face when I opened the box
that was enough to make me happy. So Christina borrowed my pearls
and they looked lovely on her. And I became cozy with regret.
Slipped away from his hand as it climbed higher along the back
of my satin thigh as we stood under an arbor weighted
with fake roses waiting for the flash to go off.
It wasn’t fair. I’d had no shame about making out
in front of the group that shared our limo. The badness I’d been so intent on
erasing was becoming a bigger, darker mess. My handiwork
only made things worse. I realized too late that I was in
over my head. I laughed it off when he told me
once the best time in his life had come and gone
he was going to start taking chances. I couldn’t truly respond, fear
took my voice away. Later as I drove him home he wouldn’t stop.
Kissing my face, my neck, buried his face in my shoulder
to nibble at a clavicle. I took my hand off the stick, pushed him back
and chided you can’t do that or we’ll get ourselves killed. Undeterred
he continued up to my ear whispering but wouldn’t it be a great way to die.

first day of school

For owen that is. i have to wait until next wednesday for Oona's first day of kindergarten. But Owen was very excited about his first day and his new 'snazzy' pants for his first day of school. Another couple of weeks and those snazzy pants of his are going to be snazzy floods what with the way he's growing. I call him cricket and hopper lately, when I look at his long slender sticks for legs, he weighs in at 60 pounds after eating a very large meal. And the slick shoes that were dressier than his usual run of the mill velcro sneakers. Owen is a boy who likes to dress up for the occasion, whatever it is. He's actually talked about owning a tux in some not to distant future in his 8 year old head. Of course I've also come into his room, waaay past his bed time, to find him bawling worried about college, getting a job, affording a house. Yes the boy clearly takes after me with respect to spiralling out of control with catastrophic, crippling anxiety at inappropriate times (although I'm not sure if there ever is a truly appropriate time). But I don't know where the dandyisms comes from, although, now that I think of it, my Dad, his Grandpa Boo, was a bit of a clotheshorse. The man had bespoke shirts, suits and coats when he was traveling to the Far East every six weeks for work, back when I was in middle school. Those were the days.

Maybe it's just me but i think Owen's belly button bears more than a passing resemblance to a yin yang symbol. That and being born on August 8th (8/8) I think Owen would be very appreciated if he took a trip to China and, you know, went around flashing his navel and shouting out his birthday. Apparently in Chinese numerology 8 is a very auspicious number, one reason why the beijing olympics started on 8/8/08, and yes they carried the 8 to the limit with the official starting time having been 8 seconds and 8 minutes past 8 pm. I also just learned (thank you wikipedia!) that 88 is bears a visual resemblance (when you look at chinese characters) to 'double joy' which is a popular decorative design for joy or happiness. But that belly button, if you can look past the bit in the middle which makes even me, his own mom, squeamish at the resemblance to brain, the outer part looks like a yin yang.