119 has always been my lucky number. Apparently it's the same for this guy! Haha! I wonder what it all means...
It sounds like a Twilight Zone episode that would make Rod Serling blush.
Call it a mere coincidence, if you will. Or see it as a rising anti-panties movement. It might even be seen as one more sign of the impending apocalypse … one that those ancient Mayans missed.
Whatever the explanation, the facts are clear: Exactly 119 pairs of women's underwear have been stolen ... twice!
The panty pilferages occurred more than one year and 1,500 miles apart.
Last year in Bismarck, North Dakota 23-year-old David Haberstroh got two years in prison after he was caught with 119 stolen girly undies.
David had been banned from possessing panties at all, the result of a previous underwear adventure. So 119 was really too many.
Then just last week, Victoria's Secret in Springfield, Pennsylvania reported that 119 pairs of panties were taken from a store display.
What is it about 119 pairs of panties What does it all mean?
We have scoured every resource from Nostradamus to old Sears catalogs for answers, but so far we only have more questions.
Questions like: Doesn't anybody steal bras any more?
-Article courtesy of Investigation Discovery
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Friday, January 27, 2012
No, You Say Goodbye First...
I don't know what's more pathetic - that I just used Face Time to talk to Mark out in the living room or that, after 5 years of marriage, we still had a hard time saying goodnight.
Ugh
What a week! I should be home enjoying my beautiful baby girl but instead ended up in the ER Monday night with a gall bladder attack. Then 3 straight days of blood work to find out if I had a blockage. Good news is - all signs point to no blockage, so I can wait to have surgery for 4-6 weeks.
In order to confirm that, I started with another round of blood work yesterday morning. Luckily the woman who knows my crazy veins insisted on doing it, so I didn't have to "train" someone new. Then a CAT scan to check for inflammation, etc., due to some lingering pain.
I thought that'd be the easiest part of my day, but they had to do an IV for additional contrast and a better image. What a nightmare! My veins had given up after all the blood work. They had to use Novocain to numb my arms and search for a vein. Ironically the Novacain shot was one of the worst pains I've had (and I've been through labor and gall stones in the last 2 weeks). I had them get Mark from the waiting room. I usually just go to my appointments alone, but I think I had reached my breaking point. I needed to be taken care of. The nurse went out to get him, and I desperately watched the open doorway. Seeing him walk in was almost like seeing him at the end of the church aisle on our wedding day. I knew we were in it for the long haul. He held me through two more IV attempts. I gave up and just cried. Third time worked, they finished the scan, and I was done.
Then the nurse said, "With the IV contrast, you may not want to breast feed for 24 hours due to possible adverse reactions to the baby."
Well that would have been nice to know... yesterday. I had pumped some milk for E to get through the morning of appointments but definitely not 24 hours worth. And E had finished that batch about a half hour ago with my mother-in-law in the waiting room. I quickly brought her upstairs to the birthing center where she had been born two weeks before. By then, she was screaming, pulling my collar down, and trying to eat through my shirt. I was crying just as hard. The poor nurses looked a little overwhelmed but set us up with some formula for the night.
I was torn... I wanted to breast feed, but after the day (and week) I put in, I gave her to my in-laws with the formula and headed to my appointment with the surgeon.
He was a wonderful man and made me feel like everything would be ok. In the waiting room after, E was sleeping happily after some formula. I felt such a mix of emotions - guilt for temporarily stopping breast feeding, happiness that my child was happy, and relief knowing that I'd be ok.
More than that, I just wanted to sleep. Thank God for my in-laws who got us some dinner, and watched E when we got home, so we could sleep for a few hours.
Everything seems better today - if all goes well, no more hospital appointments until February. At that point I'll schedule my surgery...
In order to confirm that, I started with another round of blood work yesterday morning. Luckily the woman who knows my crazy veins insisted on doing it, so I didn't have to "train" someone new. Then a CAT scan to check for inflammation, etc., due to some lingering pain.
I thought that'd be the easiest part of my day, but they had to do an IV for additional contrast and a better image. What a nightmare! My veins had given up after all the blood work. They had to use Novocain to numb my arms and search for a vein. Ironically the Novacain shot was one of the worst pains I've had (and I've been through labor and gall stones in the last 2 weeks). I had them get Mark from the waiting room. I usually just go to my appointments alone, but I think I had reached my breaking point. I needed to be taken care of. The nurse went out to get him, and I desperately watched the open doorway. Seeing him walk in was almost like seeing him at the end of the church aisle on our wedding day. I knew we were in it for the long haul. He held me through two more IV attempts. I gave up and just cried. Third time worked, they finished the scan, and I was done.
Then the nurse said, "With the IV contrast, you may not want to breast feed for 24 hours due to possible adverse reactions to the baby."
Well that would have been nice to know... yesterday. I had pumped some milk for E to get through the morning of appointments but definitely not 24 hours worth. And E had finished that batch about a half hour ago with my mother-in-law in the waiting room. I quickly brought her upstairs to the birthing center where she had been born two weeks before. By then, she was screaming, pulling my collar down, and trying to eat through my shirt. I was crying just as hard. The poor nurses looked a little overwhelmed but set us up with some formula for the night.
I was torn... I wanted to breast feed, but after the day (and week) I put in, I gave her to my in-laws with the formula and headed to my appointment with the surgeon.
He was a wonderful man and made me feel like everything would be ok. In the waiting room after, E was sleeping happily after some formula. I felt such a mix of emotions - guilt for temporarily stopping breast feeding, happiness that my child was happy, and relief knowing that I'd be ok.
More than that, I just wanted to sleep. Thank God for my in-laws who got us some dinner, and watched E when we got home, so we could sleep for a few hours.
Everything seems better today - if all goes well, no more hospital appointments until February. At that point I'll schedule my surgery...
Monday, January 23, 2012
Owl Babies and Sun Dogs
Two weeks ago, Little E came into the world. The doctor placed her in my arms, and she looked up at me with those big, owl eyes. She whimpered softly and took in the world around her.
I remember last year before getting pregnant, Mark and I were out for a walk in the fall, and I was crying about the possibility of not having a baby. He told me that all the tears, grief, hope, that it was all part of the process - and that it would end with a baby in my arms. Hearing that gave me the strength to keep trying. By spring, I was watching her little heart beating on the ultrasound screen. She looked like a baby owl, and will forever be known as my "owl baby" and "baby bird."
I knew this pregnancy was different. I could feel her in my arms as soon as I knew she existed. Nine months of anxiety and trying to do everything I possibly could to guarantee a healthy pregnancy, and she came to us after a very simple, beautiful birth.
Those nine months were also filled with dreams and symbols (beautiful rainbows) of promises and hope, (read more here), that I would hold her in my arms, that everything would be ok.
The day we left the hospital, one of the nurses came to our room to get us ready and walk us out. She went to Little E's bassinet and smiled at her. She spoke softly to her and said, "You are absolutely perfect. It's a beautiful day to go home, E! The sun is shining, and there's a big rainbow across the sky. I've never seen one in the winter before." I told her that rainbows have a special meaning to us, and she said, "Of course they do - they're a symbol of God's promise."
That night the news had a story about the January rainbow - called a sun dog. I had never heard of them before, but they had a picture - the most beautiful rainbow I had ever seen.
It was more than coincidence. It was an every-day miracle just for her. She's a special baby, and the world is already so much more beautiful with her in it!
I remember last year before getting pregnant, Mark and I were out for a walk in the fall, and I was crying about the possibility of not having a baby. He told me that all the tears, grief, hope, that it was all part of the process - and that it would end with a baby in my arms. Hearing that gave me the strength to keep trying. By spring, I was watching her little heart beating on the ultrasound screen. She looked like a baby owl, and will forever be known as my "owl baby" and "baby bird."
I knew this pregnancy was different. I could feel her in my arms as soon as I knew she existed. Nine months of anxiety and trying to do everything I possibly could to guarantee a healthy pregnancy, and she came to us after a very simple, beautiful birth.
Those nine months were also filled with dreams and symbols (beautiful rainbows) of promises and hope, (read more here), that I would hold her in my arms, that everything would be ok.
The day we left the hospital, one of the nurses came to our room to get us ready and walk us out. She went to Little E's bassinet and smiled at her. She spoke softly to her and said, "You are absolutely perfect. It's a beautiful day to go home, E! The sun is shining, and there's a big rainbow across the sky. I've never seen one in the winter before." I told her that rainbows have a special meaning to us, and she said, "Of course they do - they're a symbol of God's promise."
That night the news had a story about the January rainbow - called a sun dog. I had never heard of them before, but they had a picture - the most beautiful rainbow I had ever seen.It was more than coincidence. It was an every-day miracle just for her. She's a special baby, and the world is already so much more beautiful with her in it!
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Little E
Little E has finally arrived! Both of us are doing well and settling into our Mommy/Daughter roles slowly but surely.I was blessed with a beautiful birth, and I couldn't ask for a sweeter baby and daughter. Mark and I are quite smitten with her!
More updates to come!
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