What the naturopath told me

She said, "It's all in your head."

Okay, not really. They don't say that. But she concluded that most of my menopausal symptoms are stress-related. More importantly, she made me really realize that. The consultation took over two hours, but this was the most important part of the conversation for me:

Me: "Blah blah blah-de blah, had baby, had mat leave, period came back when he was about 8 months old. It was normal for about 5 months, then it went haywire."

Her: "Was there any major stressor around that time?"

Me: "Not really. Well, I went...back...to work."

Her: "Hm."

Me: "...oh."

Then she hooked me up to a biofeedback machine, and I'm still reserving judgement on that one. While I do believe that our bodies are a mass of cells and therefore must produce energy fields, the concept of a machine that can read them - and give you hard data on what your body is made up of - seems like it should still be science fiction. I mean, why wouldn't ALL doctors have one of these? To be able to test iron/vitamin/whatever deficiencies without invasive tests or trial and error? Is the Western medical system THAT entrenched in their money-grubbing that they wouldn't use one of these?

Maybe. Anyway, I digress. She gave me some supplements and a diet regime (no cow dairy, wheat, red meat, or white sugar - I'm starting to think you can just kill me now, please) and sent me on my way, hopefully to begin menstruating properly again post haste.

So the proof is in the pudding (that I can't eat), I guess. If I resume relatively normal bodily functions, then I'm sold. Naturopaths, all the way.

Unless I need, y'know, something amputated or something. THAT I can do at home.

The stadium has a SPA, right?

So, as mentioned, tomorrow we're off to Winnipeg bright and early* to see Metallica in concert, and my MIL is staying in our house to look after our son.

I think I have everything covered on my checklist.

Black clothing and barely repressed anger...check.

Road trip snacks and Go Girl...check.

Clearly labeled box of dildos under the bed, nightstand full of bottles of booze, and medicine cabinet stuffed with arsenic and eyeballs...check.

Impeccably clean house ready to pass the white glove test...ah...well...fuck it.

It'll give her something to do.

*So, like, 11am.

If you scream in cyberspace, does anybody care?

If somebody broke the internet, how long would it take us to find out what happened?

Think about it. I logged on to my work computer this morning, and launched my browser, only to get a Site Not Found message. Google: Site Not Found. Hotmail: Site Not Found. Facebook: Site Not Found.

Hm. Okay. No big panic.

(Well maybe a small panic)

The network is probably down. I'll just check the wireless connection. I mean, I'm sure it's just MY computer, although it could be the whole office. Or the whole block, maybe someone cut a cable. Or - IT COULD BE THE WHOLE INTERNET. OH HOLY CRAP, SOME SADISTIC BASTARD BROKE THE INTERNET.

Because those are the kinds of conclusions I jump to before I've had any coffee.

(And yes, I'm blogging from work. I'm on a coffee break. SHUT UP, this is important.)

Anyway, obviously I got my internet back. But not before I thought about how I get the entirety of my information - the internet, of course. Stuff I see on the news and hear on the radio I've usually already read on the internet, at least two days earlier. If someone broke the internet, it could be MONTHS before the news got here via carrier pigeon. And then - gasp! - someone might have to tell me face to face.

How unreliable is THAT?

Anyway, I'm very sorry if I've scared you. I've had my coffee now, I'm all better. Back to you regularly scheduled programming.



My phone, that is. Hubby fixed it, by doing what I wouldn't dare and plugging it in.

He also fixed the stove, because he fucking rocks. Although I used the oven tonight and broke that, but I'm not sure how. I flipped the breaker - even though the stovetop was still working - and then the oven worked again, which probably means it's possessed, or something.

I'm okay with that. You don't really have to buy replacements for possessed appliances.

Running through my head*

Okay. Make sure I warm up. I stretched. I hydrated. Don't eff it up now by not warming up.

Forgot my sunglasses.

"Running up the driveway doesn't count," haha, honey. I don't see YOU exercising.

Okay, really going now.

Running. Really, running? Wtf is wrong with me?

Maybe I should pretend something large and toothy is chasing me.

I wonder if I could drop kick that guy who is standing perilously close to the edge of the water without breaking stride?

Hey, this isn't so bad.

Hydrating is good, except now I have to pee. Running while having to pee? Not so good.

I wonder if I could drop kick that Canadian goose without breaking stride?

Still have to pee.

Stretching, hydrating, and warming up properly actually works! I feel like I could run forever! This is further than I've ever run before! This is great! This is - owowowowowowowow shin splint!

Well, fuck.

*Get it? Because it's about running? Right? Okay, fine, it wasn't funny. Shut up, I just went for a run. What did YOU do?