cranky pixels

So-o, I got my hair cut. All of them, in fact. Which is always a little nerve-wracking, especially since a) I’m a control freak and b) I go to the cheapest haircutting place in town. I know, right? But up until recently I’ve had really good luck there. It’s just the last few haircuts that have been somewhat, er, lacking. For example, I went in today saying I wanted a chunky A-line bob, and got…this weird gamine cut, instead.

Whatev. It’s cute, even if it isn’t what I wanted. Also (and you can’t see this in the photo) it’s still blue, which is happy-making. It’s fading in an entertaining way, and the bleachy bits mean that I can add fun colors without having to do any real work, and isn’t that what everyone wants from their hair?

Well, the main thing I notice about the Prozac is that it makes me feel kind of sick. Only when I eat, though – the rest of the time I’m fine as daisies. Which is good news, actually! Because I was worried that it would make me gain weight, and obviously if I get nauseous every time I snarf down a scone I’m not going to be gorging on anything. So let’s count that as a win, shall we?

Speaking of scones, I’ve had this problem lately wherein everything I try to bake turns out horribly. Not just run-of-the-mill so-you-say-you-can’t-bake horribly, but like “Um, are you sure you actually measured all the ingredients?” horribly. To wit: the chocolate chip cookies which I have made before without incident and are supposed to be flat and delicious came out puffed and dry. I have to use almost twice the amount of liquid called for in my tried-and-true scone recipe, which is just weird, since I make those all the freaking time. I can only think that it must have something to do with the flour I’m using, except that when I tried using different flour the same thing happened. So my new theory is that my oven is possessed. Anyone know where I can get an oven exorcism on the cheap?

The cyst saga: it continues.

So here’s a thing: apparently the “many” cysts that showed up on the sonogram in New York have turned into two little book-end cysts, one in each ovary. Good news, right? Except for the part where they still cause me excruciating pain once a month, yes!

So no surgery for me; it seems that my body is well on the way to reabsorbing the cysts. KaiserDoc suggested going on the Pill for a few months so I wouldn’t ovulate; I explained that the Pill makes me crazy (bad-crazy, not fun-party-time crazy) and besides, wouldn’t that pretty much put the kibbosh on the whole second-kid question? We went back-and-forth for a bit, her saying “…or we could just do nothing” and me going “Um, PAIN,” punctuated by her leaving for ten minutes to take a phone call, which – professional! But what it came down to was that I’m not entirely comfortable with playing Russian roulette with my hormones, especially when there’s no guarantee it’s going to work.

KaiserDoc was reasonably sympathetic, in the way you sympathize with the crazy lady on the bus who tells you she’s misplaced her tinfoil hat. And speaking of crazy: I said maybe there was some magic combo of hormones and anti-depressants that might just mitigate some of the crazy, and KaiserDoc sort of jumped on that, giving me a delightful run-around about how she can’t recommend any one thing or combination of things because “everyone reacts differently” (which: OBVIOUSLY, but maybe as a DOCTOR you have SOME IDEA of which BCPs are most compatible with the chronically depressed, since I am REASONABLY CERTAIN I am not the first person in the world to be in this position) finally saying “Well, let’s just start you on Prozac and then re-visit the birth control pill idea after a few months.” So, basically: take some pills and quit being a crazy person, and then get back to me. Nice.

I’m not saying I shouldn’t be on meds, but, dude. Way to play up every stereotype of an insurance-company run health care conglomerate, KaiserDoc! Perhaps you can also sign me up for the newsletter – oh. You did. Right, thanks for that.

She did give me some Vicodin, too. So now I can be really high and also in pain. Yay!

So, show of hands: how many of you are looking at this site on IE?

Yeah, that’s about what I thought.

I’m debating making my graphics into PNGs, because GIFs are lame and full of lameness, but there’s the whole “IE can’t handle PNG transparency” thing* and it just makes me sad to think of poor backward IE people, looking at my site and going “Why did she put all her graphics in white boxes?”.

But who is thinking of me in this scenario? No one, that’s who.

I could check my stats, but that would be too easy. Plus it doesn’t involve ticky boxes.

Fill out a survey! You know you want to.

(If you can’t get the pop-up to load, click here.)

*Yes I know there are hacks, but I’m allergic to javascript & refuse to ask Not So for help. SUCH IS THE STORY OF MY LIFE. I do the same thing when I need to rearrange furniture.

I went to see Heather Armstrong at Powells last week. Room was packed, but I had a fab seat. She’s hilarious, and not just because of the way she pronounces “crayon.”