Oh, by the way, about the hormonal symptoms...

I forgot to mention, that as of my last injection of Sotto Pelle hormones, I am down to TWO prescriptions - one for blood pressure (which annoyingly remains high for no apparent reason), and an anti-depressant that I have to take for Achalasia disorder (a swallowing problem).  I am taking several vitamin supplements, but I would rather take vitamins than eleven prescriptions.  I am off the daily sleeping pill, the daily anti-anxiety, the as-needed-more-often-than-not muscle relaxers and Xanax, two cholesterol meds, and one of the blood pressure meds...I do still have a prescription for water retention and one for something else that I can't remember, because they are as needed and haven't been needed!  Hooray!  Life is good!  And very little self-medicating with Jagermeister anymore either...that was a big sign that the hormones weren't working, because the physiological need for SOMETHING to alleviate all the day's anxiety and stress is no longer there.

I'm not kidding ladies...if you are entering that phase of life where hormone replacement might be something to consider, ask your doctor about Sotto Pelle.  Visit http://www.mrmgyn.com/ - it's my doctor's website, and links to information on Sotto Pelle.  It's been a lifesaver.  There is no reason that a reasonably healthy woman of 45 should be on 11 prescriptions, most of which were things that were fixed with the right dose of hormones!

My babies...

My dogs are my babies - I can't have kids, and never necessarily want them.  Not that children aren't wonderful, and I know I would be a great mom, but you can get in trouble with CPS for leaving your kids in the backyard with a bowl of food when you go to work.  And the bark collars REALLY cause a problem with the authorities...

So here are my "children"...and no, I don't really leave them outside or make them wear bark collars - they are completely spoiled, but never rotten (well, almost never)...

Susan Elizabeth Woogie (The Woogie, or Woog Woogs for short)

She is the 10-year-old "diva"...she was my husband's dog first, and had to make a major adjustment when me and my two dogs moved in five years ago.  She let me know with the sarcastic roll of her eyes exactly where she saw me on the food chain.  Woogie goes to work with my husband every day, and you can see her laughing at the other dogs as she skips out the door.  She is addicted to carbs - God forbid should I walk in with Auntie Anne's pretzels or King's Hawaiian Rolls - she will knock me down and run off with the bag...it's gone before I get off the ground.  Five years later, we all have an understanding...I let her think that she is still the woman of the house, and always let her have her way, and we get along just fine.

Duke (or Duke Skylicker, when he's getting a good ass-scratching)...

Dukie is my big doofus of a dog, he is just a love sponge.  He hasn't met anyone (that we purposely allow in the house anyway) that he doesn't like, is a sucker for his stuffed toys (of which he has at least 30, Pillow Pets being the majority), and can hear a peanut butter M&M being removed from the package a mile away.  I have never seen such a fool for peanut butter M&Ms (Note:  I DO NOT feed my dogs chocolate, so don't get all upset...the peanut butter M&Ms are almost all peanut butter, and in six years he hasn't had any bad reaction to the half-dozen or so he receives each evening...).  Duke was adopted by a friend from the SPCA at six weeks old, and my friend realized about six weeks later that he couldn't care for a puppy.  I originally took him in as a foster until my friend could get his living situation situated, but after a nasty bout with Parvo that should have taken Dukie's life, I knew he was staying with me.  There's nothing like a big old dog head in your lap to relieve stress and depression.

Daisy Boo...there are no words to describe her...

She is part black Lab, part Golden Retriever, part something very short.  Her little legs are about six inches long, but her body is about two feet long...however she has the cutest face ever.  She's now 13-years old, but doesn't show her age at all except for a little bit of gray around her lips.  She's the tattle-tale and the troublemaker, who runs to tell me when the other dogs are misbehaving, yet does things you wouldn't think she could manage (like pull over the trash can) and blame it on the other dogs.  She's smart as a whip and loves harassing the Woogie, and she will be the one who lives to be 20 and keep up her antics the entire time!  She also goes by Twirly-Girly, since she twirls in circles in front of us to let us know she wants out, because she can't reach the bells on the back door knob that the big dogs use to tell us it's potty time.  I got her for free from the folks that had the litter, and she was the runt and going to be put down the next day if no one took her.  She was painfully shy around most people her whole life before we moved in here...she is now a social butterfly, and gives Woogie a run for her money for the "diva" title.

As you might have guessed, none of our dogs have official papers, although two are full-blood black Labs (and we will always have Labs, they are the best dogs ever)...all three were adopted and/or rescued.  Please support your local SPCA and Humane Society - they are great causes!  (Cue the weepy Sarah MacLachlan song here...)

My "Cranky Pants" aren't so cranky today...

...must be due to the hormones.  The doctor told me when I had my first implant three months ago that I would just know when it was time for a new injection - I had no idea how I would know.  Well, I finally figured out that I KNEW, but it took me a couple weeks.  I just had my second injection this week, and I feel great again.  However the mood leading up to the injection was bleak, and the correlation finally dawned on me right before I was scheduled for my second injection. 

I had bad insomnia - literally three nights a week I wouldn't sleep at all.  Thank God for my Kindle - I read a book and a half on Monday night, and went to my doctor's appointment after another sleepless night.  The insomnia led to depression and anxiety creeping back in - I didn't want to get out of bed some days, and was stressed about little things.  It's been four days now, and I feel back to normal again.  A good night's sleep, a good meal with family and friends tonight, and life is good.

Which in a roundabout way leads me to my point - or whatever it is I'm babbling about.  I have one girlfriend - my best friend - that I have known for more than 30 years and I would trust my life to.  We lost touch for many years, but once we made up our minds to stay in touch regularly, we revert immediately to the goofy 14-year old girls that met on a field trip, and bonded by sharing a room on the 14th floor of the Hilton in San Antonio, spent tossing pizza and gummy bears on to the cabs parked below.  We speak each other's language, so to speak.  No other female that I have met before or since gets my twisted sense of humor, or shares my values (other than family, since it appears to be genetic) .  That's important - shared values.  And it's taken me a lot of years to figure that out.

My best friend and I can go a month without talking, but always pick up right where we leave off.  We had dinner tonight with my parents, and we spent most of the evening trying not to shoot our beverage out our noses while laughing.  It's always a game to see who will snort first (it was Elizabeth tonight, after her SO made a comment having to do with Reese's Feces, which  I won't even try to explain).  I have lots of female friends and aquaintances, but only one best friend for life.  And that is more than enough - I'm truly blessed to have her in my life.  And I don't tell her that enough.  So this is my mushy "love letter" to my best friend, I guess. 

Several years ago, after a particularly brutal relationship ended, I suddenly felt the need to TELL the people in my life that I love them regularly.  It may drive family nuts when I talk to them on the phone, because I always end the conversation with "love you!", and I mean it.  My husband has learned that he can't hang up the phone without telling me.  My aunt Jane always laughs, but she says it back.  I tell my ex-husband, and I mean it, just not in the "husband & wife" way.  My best friend Elizabeth has never laughed, and always says it back - half the time she says it first.  Those three little words, when said with meaning, truly do have an impact.  I will call Elizabeth back if I forget to tell her "love you!" before I hang up the phone...and it makes my day brighter to know that she gets it, she understands the importance.

I know, I know, I'm getting maudlin and depressing, and entirely too mushy for most's comfort...I'll go back to being my typical snarky opinionated bitchedy person soon, I promise...love you! :-)