tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41783574763415550892024-03-12T17:37:45.486-07:00The Katie ScarlettKatie Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06298235179649576788noreply@blogger.comBlogger82125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4178357476341555089.post-60704226571980446692011-02-24T21:46:00.001-08:002011-02-24T21:46:29.495-08:00It’s Katie Scarlett, Y’all!<p>I switched over to WordPress today and thanks to Momma and her awesome brain, you can now find me at <a href="http://itskatiescarlettyall.com">It's Katie Scarlett, Y'all.</a></p> <p>See y’all there!</p> Katie Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06298235179649576788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4178357476341555089.post-16204844720109726012011-02-21T18:52:00.001-08:002011-02-21T22:40:36.740-08:00Talullah Jane<p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_UF9UeIIUpto/TWMkzeYlcfI/AAAAAAAAAUU/zhTTZMGbifI/s1600-h/Picnik%20collage%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border: 0px none; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 0px;" title="Picnik collage" alt="Picnik collage" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_UF9UeIIUpto/TWMkz5-vurI/AAAAAAAAAUY/UoIqdV21TgU/Picnik%20collage_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" width="359" height="365" /></a></p> <p align="justify">Sunday, I found out my Lulu ran away.</p> <p align="justify">Not from Daddie.</p> <p align="justify">Not from Sissy.</p> <p align="justify">Not from The Bubs.</p> <p align="justify">Not from their mom.</p> <p align="justify">I found out from a lady at church that I don’t know very well.</p> <p align="justify">I found out that she ran away <span style="font-weight: bold;">THREE WEEKS AGO</span>.</p> <p align="justify">Nobody cared to tell me because they were hoping she’d come home and they would never have to tell me anything about it.</p> <p align="justify">I was told to “cut her (their mom) some slack”, “I’m sure she didn’t mean anything by not telling me” and “she was really upset about it”. Not anything about the fact that my dog ran away or that they didn’t tell me. Just to cut her some slack because she knew it would upset me. Awesome, right?</p> <p align="justify">I don’t care that I’ll be 23 in a couple of weeks. <strong>WHO DOESN’T TELL THEIR KID THAT THEIR DOG RAN AWAY?</strong> Seriously. I’ve had her for five and a half years. Did they think I wouldn’t notice she wasn’t there next time I went over.</p> <p align="justify">I’m hurt, heart broken, pissed and disappointed in the fact that my own family can’t respect me enough to tell me my dog ran away.</p> <p> </p><div style="padding: 0px; margin: 0px; display: inline; float: none;" id="scid:5737277B-5D6D-4f48-ABFC-DD9C333F4C5D:9c46a121-33ef-40f9-9224-894d2460a78b" class="wlWriterEditableSmartContent"><div id="cb1a4de8-3ed1-4a67-b2b3-9bc318e1daf6" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; display: inline;"><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xr3qbH3z8s4" target="_new"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_UF9UeIIUpto/TWMk0CJVyFI/AAAAAAAAAUg/9ycHvdJtZu8/video4be3a91597b1%5B8%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-style: none;" galleryimg="no" onload="var downlevelDiv = document.getElementById('cb1a4de8-3ed1-4a67-b2b3-9bc318e1daf6'); downlevelDiv.innerHTML = "<div><object width=\"415\" height=\"233\"><param name=\"movie\" value=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/xr3qbH3z8s4?hl=en&hd=1\"><\/param><embed src=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/xr3qbH3z8s4?hl=en&hd=1\" type=\"application/x-shockwave-flash\" width=\"415\" height=\"233\"><\/embed><\/object><\/div>";" alt="" /></a></div></div></div> <p></p> <p>I hope you have a nice big bed to sleep in and can be happy being an inside dog again. Nobody can love you as much as I did, but I hope they can come close.</p> <p><em>I love you, Fattie.</em></p>Katie Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06298235179649576788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4178357476341555089.post-76438492822273606772011-02-13T21:40:00.001-08:002011-02-13T21:41:07.045-08:00Try Being Me<p>They say being in love is one of the greatest things <br />But you wouldn’t really know when you’ve only had flings <br />When people tell me there are other fish in the sea <br />I simply want to scream, “Try being me!” <br /> <br />I don’t have someone to simple adore <br />My Saturday nights always end up a bore <br />I don’t hear “I love you” or get goodnight kisses <br />Instead I lay in bed making wishes <br /> <br />Tall dark and handsome he doesn’t have to be <br />All he has to do is simply love me for me <br />I want sweet cards and silly texts <br />Not some guy who’s hollering, “Next!” <br /> <br />I may not be pretty; I’m awkward and shy <br />I just need someone willing to give it a try <br />If you take the time to know me, just wait and see <br />I promise you won’t want those other fish in the sea</p> Katie Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06298235179649576788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4178357476341555089.post-13082421996104177182011-02-11T09:44:00.001-08:002011-02-11T09:44:30.097-08:00F is for friends who do stuff together…<p align="justify">Papa had a retirement party to go to this morning that started before I had to be in class so he dropped me off at school early.  Two and a half hours early, to be exact.  I’m so okay with that though because it's not even noon yet and already I’ve studied for my test Monday, written part of my poem due Monday, read ahead for two classes and am about to start on assignments for my online class.</p> <p align="justify">Being productive is awesome!  Whodathunkit?</p> <p align="justify">Sitting here by myself though has me a bit bummed.  Everywhere I look people are talking to and hanging out with their friends.  When it comes to college, I don’t have any friends.  Not a one.  I’ll talk to someone in class if they speak to me, but I’m not one to make small talk.  I go to class, sit down and learn.  I’m not paying oodles of money to socialize, except I <em>really</em> do want to socialize.  It sucks to walk around and not know anyone.  </p> <p align="justify">I have friends I talk to via Facebook, Twitter and what not, but as far as friend that I talk to in real life, on a regular basis, I have two.  They’re the only two friends who came to see me when I was in the hospital or even text me after to make sure I was okay.  They’re the only two who call me to hang out or who have come out to see me since I’ve moved.  And now they both have boys so I’m pretty sure I’ll be seeing and hearing form them a little less.</p> <p align="justify">It really sucks because I know they have a life outside of being my friend, and I don’t expect them to drop everything and cater to my every need, but I’m so tired of being lonely.  I’m so over sitting at home on the weekends and not getting invited to go do things because I don’t have a car.  </p> <p align="justify">I’m my own enemy in this situation, but I don’t know how to overcome it.  I tend to get along better with people who are older and more mature than most my age and college is a great place to find that if I could just get over myself.  My lack of self-esteem and self-confidence does nothing for me, yet I don’t know where to even begin in terms of fixing it.</p> <p align="justify">I think the fear of rejection is what stands in my way the most.  I’ve been pushed down and bullied so much of my life, why would I put myself out there only to be turned down.  It’s much easier to keep my nose in a book or my phone and just not care.  Except I do.  I care a lot.  I don’t want to look back on my twenties only to realize that there was so much I missed out on because I was scared.</p> <p align="justify">I know I’m weird and loud and clumsy, but I like to think I’m a good person.  I’ll go out of my way to help and friend and although that’s come back to bite me in the ass multiple times, I still do it because that’s just who I am.  Maybe I let people walk all over me too much and that’s my problem.  Correction.  I <em>know</em> I let people walk all over me too much and that <em>is</em> my problem.  </p> <p align="justify">To ignore it all though and shove my feelings aside to avoid confrontation is so much easier.  But then things build up, people explode and friendships are forever ruined because you owe me this much money and you did this and this and why didn’t you do this?  It’s happened to me more times than I care to admit and I know I’m to blame for most of them.  That’s what hurts the most. Some of my favorite friendships are no more because I harbor my feelings and don’t know how to communicate.</p> <p align="justify">Maybe I’m the common denominator here.  I don’t have friends because I’m not a good friend, but like I said, I’d like to think I’m a good friend.  Perhaps I’m only a partially good friend.  Yes, I’ll go out of my way to help and be there, but when it comes to the things that are supposed to hold a friendship together, I totally suck.</p> <p align="justify">I find it easy to sit behind a screen and edit what I’m going to say before I publish or send it, but when it comes to an actual conversation with a real live human being?  Forget it.  I get nervous and twitchy and don’t know what to say so instead I ramble and make myself look like a fool.</p> <p align="justify"> The only thing stopping me is me and I’m thinking that it’s time for that to change.  It’s time for me to put myself out there and if I don’t make any friends, at least I’ll have tried.  I do weird things and talk about poop a lot.  I’m loud and tend to talk about inappropriate things at inappropriate times.  You can call me at midnight for directions and ask me questions about cars that I don’t know the answer to, but will look up on Google.  You may have to tell me a joke three times only for me to pretend I get it and bust out laughing ten minutes later when I really do get.</p> <p align="justify">We could go out, eat at IHOP and end up heading to the beach at 4 AM only to find ourselves almost hitting a cow.*  Things won’t always be perfect and they won’t always be fun.  I’m sure I’ll say the wrong thing and accidently start and argument.  My feelings will get hurt and I’ll bust out in tears, but that’s just who I am.  I wear my heart on my sleeve.</p> <p align="justify">Surely there’s someone out there who needs a little Katie in their life!  </p> <p align="justify">*<em>Just kidding.  That can only happen once.  At lest I’m pretty sure that can only happen once…</em></p> Katie Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06298235179649576788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4178357476341555089.post-70692173214781666162011-02-09T21:33:00.001-08:002011-02-09T21:38:32.061-08:00Netflix is my new BFF.<p align="justify">It is, hands down, <strong>the best</strong> $10 I spend a month.  The Bubs got an Xbox for Christmas so I ‘borrowed’ the Wii and have been curled up in bed reliving the first five season of drama at Seattle Grace.</p> <p align="justify">I don’t have too much to say, so instead here are all the pictures that are sitting in my “Edited=DOSOMETHINGWITHTHESE” folder.  </p> <p align="justify"> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/scarlettcommakatie/5428108348/in/photostream/"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="Eggcellent" border="0" alt="" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_UF9UeIIUpto/TVN4tjoEarI/AAAAAAAAAT4/NPfQKmn9jIU/eggs%5B5%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="328" height="329" /></a> <br /><em>Eggs* <br /> <br /> <br /></em><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/scarlettcommakatie/5432369359/in/photostream/"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="Gavin" border="0" alt="" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_UF9UeIIUpto/TVN4tyDwCgI/AAAAAAAAAT8/lXlqIgtfhK0/Gavin1e%5B4%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="329" height="244" /></a><em> <br />Happy baby. <br /></em></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/scarlettcommakatie/5432369389/in/photostream/"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="Gavin" border="0" alt="" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_UF9UeIIUpto/TVN4uKM34RI/AAAAAAAAAUA/N7VFlZrzpRU/Gavin2e%5B4%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" height="246" /></a> <br /><em>Laughing baby. <br /></em><em></em> <p align="center"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/scarlettcommakatie/5432369423/in/photostream/"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="Gavin" border="0" alt="" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_UF9UeIIUpto/TVN4ukmNx9I/AAAAAAAAAUE/p1Z1Y5L2IbM/Gavin3e%5B4%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="372" height="257" /></a> <br /><em>Sleeping baby.</em></p> <em> <br /></em> <p align="center"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/scarlettcommakatie/5432978600/"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="Caity and Zeke" border="0" alt="" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_UF9UeIIUpto/TVN4u_PPTUI/AAAAAAAAAUI/n51LNj-b1BI/IMG_0874e%5B6%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="282" height="423" /></a> <br /><em>Boom Boom and Zeke <br /> <br /> <br /></em></p> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/scarlettcommakatie/5432369159/in/photostream/"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="Katie" border="0" alt="" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_UF9UeIIUpto/TVN4vNdxKsI/AAAAAAAAAUM/8JUhjchoXgE/SDC10681e%5B5%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="274" height="421" /></a> <br /><em>Bam Bam <br /> <br /> <br /></em></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/scarlettcommakatie/5432978806/in/photostream/"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="Pink" border="0" alt="" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_UF9UeIIUpto/TVN4vTurBZI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/ks5c25HkxJ0/IMG_0677e%5B6%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="353" height="247" /></a> <br /><em>Pinkasaurus.</em></p> <p>*And no, I didn’t do a Google image search for ‘egg collages’.  I actually took pictures of the eggs Nana and Papa brought back from the country.  <em>I’m looking at you, BoomBoom!</em></p> Katie Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06298235179649576788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4178357476341555089.post-90395170626330993402011-02-07T11:13:00.001-08:002011-02-07T11:13:13.690-08:00Even though I lost, I won.<p> </p> <div style="padding-bottom: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; float: none; padding-top: 0px" id="scid:5737277B-5D6D-4f48-ABFC-DD9C333F4C5D:60542a39-f6a1-4225-b979-e225609c8938" class="wlWriterEditableSmartContent"><div id="0bc6a000-916d-46d1-8628-e5c10833fb33" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; display: inline;"><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ZLeXDCANTg" target="_new"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_UF9UeIIUpto/TVBESFUgwSI/AAAAAAAAATw/qEk4I14Xk0A/video7b51cb45d916%5B4%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-style: none" galleryimg="no" onload="var downlevelDiv = document.getElementById('0bc6a000-916d-46d1-8628-e5c10833fb33'); downlevelDiv.innerHTML = "<div><object width=\"448\" height=\"252\"><param name=\"movie\" value=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/6ZLeXDCANTg?hl=en&hd=1\"><\/param><embed src=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/6ZLeXDCANTg?hl=en&hd=1\" type=\"application/x-shockwave-flash\" width=\"448\" height=\"252\"><\/embed><\/object><\/div>";" alt=""></a></div></div></div> Katie Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06298235179649576788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4178357476341555089.post-18195105172432898262011-02-01T22:29:00.001-08:002011-02-01T22:30:23.160-08:00Random Thoughts From Today<p align="justify">I slept for ten hours straight for the first time in a long time.</p> <p align="justify">Sloppy Boudreaxs and croissants make amazing homemade hot pockets.</p> <p align="justify">I had no idea what<em> The Odyssey</em> was about after reading it so I had to Google a summary.</p> <p align="justify">It supposedly went from 64 degrees to 42 degrees in ten minutes.</p> <p align="justify">I didn’t go outside all day so I don’t know if that’s true or not.</p> <p align="justify">I did go outside about an hour ago.  </p> <p align="justify">It’s 26, feels like 11 with 26 mph winds.</p> <p align="justify">I always feel bad for homeless people when it gets so cold like this.</p> <p align="justify">Say extra prayers for them, please!</p> <p align="justify">There’s a rumor going around that it’s supposed to snow Friday WHICH.  IS.  AWESOME.</p> <p align="justify">It IS Texas, so I’m not holding my breath.</p> <p align="justify">It would be awesome to not have to go to class though.</p> <p align="justify">Just sayin’.</p> <p align="justify">While watching the RHOBH Reunion I saw previews for RHONYC, Bethenny Ever After and, I’m so excited for this one, <strong>RHOOC!</strong></p> <p align="justify">IT’S ABOUT DAMN TIME, BRAVO!</p> <p align="justify">I should probably go read a summary of The Odyssey again incase I have a quiz tomorrow.</p> <p align="justify">That means I’ll be on Facebook for about 30 minutes, watch Grey’s and then read in the morning.</p> <p align="justify">Which, by the way, HOW FREAKING AWESOME IS NETFLIX?!?</p> <p align="justify">10$ a month for a ton of movies and shows, like the first 6 seasons of Grey’s.</p> <p align="justify">Yes, please!</p> <p align="justify">Okay, I’m done rambling.</p> <p align="justify">Goodnight, peeps.</p> <p align="justify">Stay warm.</p> Katie Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06298235179649576788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4178357476341555089.post-6613730573997529972011-01-31T17:41:00.001-08:002011-01-31T17:41:04.122-08:00This song has been stuck in my head all day.<p align="justify">And I’m perfectly fine with that.</p> <p align="justify">Jaret from <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K38xNqZvBJI">Soup</a> + Ryan from <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rNN6Nb0Q7BQ">Smile Smile</a> = People On Vacation</p> <p align="justify">I’m super bummed I didn’t get to go to  one of their first shows last Friday.  </p> <p align="justify"> </p> <div style="padding-bottom: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; float: none; padding-top: 0px" id="scid:5737277B-5D6D-4f48-ABFC-DD9C333F4C5D:a4d54962-210c-46da-aef5-48d848d67aaf" class="wlWriterEditableSmartContent"><div id="0d66e82a-4379-491a-bb2e-c92b8b7e2d2f" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; display: inline;"><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KYgLCVSGNvk" target="_new"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_UF9UeIIUpto/TUdkr47in7I/AAAAAAAAATo/-1FOqdbQjoM/video85b0faaa7c86%5B14%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-style: none" galleryimg="no" onload="var downlevelDiv = document.getElementById('0d66e82a-4379-491a-bb2e-c92b8b7e2d2f'); downlevelDiv.innerHTML = "<div><object width=\"448\" height=\"252\"><param name=\"movie\" value=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/KYgLCVSGNvk?hl=en&hd=1\"><\/param><embed src=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/KYgLCVSGNvk?hl=en&hd=1\" type=\"application/x-shockwave-flash\" width=\"448\" height=\"252\"><\/embed><\/object><\/div>";" alt=""></a></div></div></div> Katie Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06298235179649576788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4178357476341555089.post-34378450140876914462011-01-26T11:42:00.000-08:002011-01-26T11:43:11.517-08:00Five Months<p align="justify">Tomorrow will be 5 months since I got in my wreck and lost my car.  <strong>FIVE.  MONTHS.</strong>  One, two, three, four, FIVE.  Five months since I picked up Tallulah from the vet and everything changed.  Five months of relying on others to take me places.  Five months of having to make sure someone’s schedule is clear when I need to run to Walgreen’s or the bank or supper with my friends or ANYWHERE.  I try not to think about it a lot, as it drives me absolutely insane.</p> <p align="justify">Nana and Papa have gone above and beyond helping me out and taking me places and for that I am forever grateful.  Four months, four weeks and 2 days ago they pretty much changed everything and let me move in so they could take me to work and school until I got another car.  I honestly thought I’d have a car by now, but then again, I also thought I would still have a well paying job, but that’s another story for another day.</p> <p align="justify">Tomorrow night some of my friends are getting together for dinner and karaoke and to celebrate one’s birthday.  I really want to go, but I have things I have to work out first.  How will I get there?  Where will I spend the night?  How will I get back home?  These are the things I have to think about these days.  This is my reality now. </p> <p align="justify">Do I like it?  Absolutely not.  Is there anything I can do about it?  Not really.  Am I dealing with it?  For the most part.  Most days.  I didn’t plan for that girl to pull out in front of me.  I didn’t plan for my car to crumble the way it did.  Nobody wakes up one day and says, “You know, I think I’m going to total my car today.”  Well, most people anyway.</p> <p align="justify">I’m thankful I have who love me and help me out.  I’m grateful Tallulah was okay.  I’m thankful the people in the other five cars were okay.  <em>I’m thankful that I’m okay.</em>  I know it could have been a lot worse and I try to remind myself that every day.  Even more when I have days like I did Monday where all I want to do is feel sorry for myself.  A lot of things change when the freedoms you’ve had from having a car for four years are taken away from you in an instant.</p> <p align="justify">I want to hate the girl that cut me off with every fiber of my being, but that’s not who I am.  I just don’t have it in me.  It angers me that she didn’t have that much damage to her car and that even though she admitted she pulled in front of me, I hit her from behind a few seconds after she hit the four cars in front of her and yeah it was legally my fault.</p> <p align="justify">I know I’m more than blessed.  I may not have a car but I have a roof over my head, clothes on my back, food on the table, I’m in school, I have friends and family that love me and so much more.  All I have to do is look back at pictures of my <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/scarlettcommakatie/5391080482/in/photostream/">car</a> and even though I get furious about what happened, I know that the angels were busy that day because I not only walked away, I only had a few <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/scarlettcommakatie/5390474239/">bruises</a>.</p> <p align="justify">Yes I get mad and sad and frustrated and when I do, I just remind my self that everything will happen in His time; I have no control over any of it.  If anything this has been one big, long, huge lesson in patience and I don’t think I’m anywhere near having finished learning it.  Everything happens for a reason, even if we don’t know what that reason is.</p> Katie Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06298235179649576788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4178357476341555089.post-41343800405531768032011-01-19T21:46:00.001-08:002011-01-19T21:46:56.407-08:00Weird Staple Girl<p align="justify">Today was the first day of classes. Me being me, forgot my paper at home telling me where my classes were. Luckily I knew who my Psychology instructor was and <strike>stalked</strike> passed her in the hall and followed her to my room. Nana went home and text me the room number for World Lit. Which, yeah. </p> <p align="justify">We had to introduce ourselves and tell the class a little bit about us. Most people said their name and what theire major was and left it at that. Um, not me.</p> <blockquote> <p align="justify"><em>“Hi, I’m Katie. I’m 22. I didn’t think I’d get to come to school this semester because two weeks ago Friday, I had emergency surgery to have my gall bladder removed before it exploded. I like photography and I am leaving straight from class to head to the doctor to have my staples removed. I have seventeen. They’re quite itchy. *Pause* Um, I tend to overshare sometimes. Sorry.”</em></p></blockquote> <p align="justify">Pretty sure they think I’m some weird staple girl now. </p> <p align="justify">When the nurse was removing my staples, she found three hidden in my belly button. This means I had 20 staples instead of 17. I was so excited. I made the nurse count to make sure. Odd numbers suck. I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m some weird staple girl, too.</p> <p align="justify">Huh. Weird staple girl. That may make a good username one day…</p> <blockquote> <p align="justify"></p></blockquote> Katie Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06298235179649576788noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4178357476341555089.post-55303767452284470182011-01-18T17:57:00.001-08:002011-01-18T17:58:56.592-08:00I may want to frame it!<p align="center"> </p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="left"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_UF9UeIIUpto/TTZFGffYrII/AAAAAAAAATg/dD-1HPTmxT8/s1600-h/gallbladder%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="gallbladder" border="0" alt="gallbladder" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_UF9UeIIUpto/TTZFG_ivmgI/AAAAAAAAATk/1PurAvcQlqk/gallbladder_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="391" height="604"></a><br>You’re welcome!</p> Katie Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06298235179649576788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4178357476341555089.post-4773754421089329602011-01-13T16:14:00.001-08:002011-01-13T16:14:22.263-08:00I can’t believe I haven’t posted all year!<p align="justify">Which now that I look back, I’ve actually posted twice. Two times that I don’t remember posting. Seriously it was like reading it for the first time. Hello, Vicodin!</p> <p align="justify">As I said, I had a doctor’s appointment set up for next Friday to get a referral for a surgeon to get my gall bladder removed. Yeah, well my gall bladder had other plans. Thursday morning about 3:30, I started having another attack. I took the pain pills they sent me home from the ER with and pretty much slept all day. (Other than the 4 times I was up dry heaving.) I was going to just wait it out until my appointment the next day until I looked at my paper from the ER and it said to return <strong>immediately</strong> if I started throwing up or the pain got worse.</p> <p align="justify">So, I showered, put on fresh jammies, packed a bag just in case they decided to admit me and headed back to the ER. At first there was a wait, but it’s amazing how fast people move when you tell them you’re having severe chest pains! They got me back to a room, gave me some Morphine (Sweet Baby Jesus! Best. Thing. Ever.) and did another ultra sound.</p> <p align="justify">They decided that it was too much of a risk to wait and that I was going to be admitted so they could do surgery Friday and get my gall bladder out before it exploded. Cool, huh?</p> <p align="justify">The doctor came back and talked me through everything and, I blame it on the Morphine, but I asked if he was the surgeon because his name scared me and I didn’t want him anywhere near my gall bladder because I didn’t know what he’d do with it.</p> <p align="justify">His name was Dr. Stephen King.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_UF9UeIIUpto/TS-VWGtMV3I/AAAAAAAAAS8/CPJQLnAsviY/s1600-h/165202_10150358386015103_790365102_16887547_314098_n%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="165202_10150358386015103_790365102_16887547_314098_n" border="0" alt="165202_10150358386015103_790365102_16887547_314098_n" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_UF9UeIIUpto/TS-VWRhV1NI/AAAAAAAAATA/GLiTL3ki-nY/165202_10150358386015103_790365102_16887547_314098_n_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="279" height="378"></a><br><em>I’m too sexy for my gall bladder. <br>Too sexy for my gall bladder. <br>So sexy it huuurts.</em></p> <p align="justify">I got to my room just as the sun was coming up and dozed in and out of sleep as Nana left and Melissa came to keep me company so I wouldn’t be alone. (I know that was a huge deal for you and I appreciate everything you did <strong>so, so much</strong>!)</p> <p align="justify">I was told that I would have surgery that day, they just didn’t know what time yet so they’d come up and let me know. They lied. About 10:00 they came to get me to sign papers and then told me they were ready to wheel me up to surgery. I FREAKED out and started crying.</p> <p align="justify">Nana wasn’t there. Daddie was in the middle of an appointment with Dr. Asshat* and Momma was at work tying up loose ends so she could come stay with me. Melissa was there and although she is one of my best friends, I wanted an adult there. I was scared. </p> <p align="justify">I did laugh a bit though when the nurses eyed each other and asked who she was. I’m 99.9% sure they thought we were gay.</p> <p align="justify">They took me to surgery and I made them wait until I saw Nana before I went back. They explained everything to me, Nana showed up, I met with the anesthesiologist and my surgeon and then they gave me a shot of something. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_UF9UeIIUpto/TS-VWwk24uI/AAAAAAAAATE/pd4B-JfdG1Y/s1600-h/167382_487979826386_610336386_6038770_7965513_n%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="167382_487979826386_610336386_6038770_7965513_n" border="0" alt="167382_487979826386_610336386_6038770_7965513_n" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_UF9UeIIUpto/TS-VXR6e5BI/AAAAAAAAATI/OdMWtPC7VJA/167382_487979826386_610336386_6038770_7965513_n_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="287" height="389"></a><em>Right before I started speaking Spanish.</em></p> <p align="justify">Next thing I remember is being in the recovery room, poking the nurse every few minutes and asking, “I’m alive? Are you sure? I don’t want to be dead and think I’m alive.”</p> <p align="justify">I spent the next 24 hours sleeping on and off and getting Morphine whenever I could. That stuff is the shit, I tell you. I came home Saturday and have been recovering since. Vicodin is my best friend (Morphine is my BFF) when it comes to pain. I normally take one and sleep, but today I was brave and took one before I went to register for classes. People watch got a lot more fun when it kicked in.</p> <p align="justify">I have 17 staples and it makes me mad. It couldn’t have been 16 or 18 to make me happy. Sigh. I get them removed next week.</p> <p align="justify">Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the thoughts, prayers, comments, tweets and visitors! They mean the world. And worked! Also, may apologizes to Momma for hollering, “Bitch, please! This isn’t apple juice!” when she unknowingly handed me unsalted beef broth.</p> <p align="justify">I have a week to rest up until school starts and then it’s back to normal, I guess. Whatever that may be.</p> <p align="justify">*<em>Three years ago I had kidney stones and went to the ER. They told me that I had gall stones, too, and needed to check with my PCP about them. I went and he told me that I didn’t have any, he didn’t know what they were talking about and that the pain I was having were anxiety attacks. Turns out every time I’ve had an “anxiety attack” the past three years, I’ve really been having a gall bladder attack. </em></p> Katie Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06298235179649576788noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4178357476341555089.post-80048477928472095412011-01-05T19:02:00.001-08:002011-01-05T19:02:32.477-08:00I had a lot of plans for 2011.<p align="justify">Things that included blogging and pictures and reading and a lot of other things besides being propped up in the corner of my bed sleeping and watching <strike>Twilight</strike> <strike>True Blood</strike> The Vampire Diaries.</p> <p align="justify">I have a doctor’s appointment set for Friday afternoon and they’ll decide what happens from there.  Until then I guess I’ll pretend it’s still 2010 and start my own version of 2011 as soon as I get all of this behind me.</p> <p align="justify">Thanks to everyone fro the wall postings, calls, texts, comments and all around well wishes.  They really do mean the world to me.</p> Katie Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06298235179649576788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4178357476341555089.post-40455262281122762472011-01-03T02:41:00.001-08:002011-01-03T02:41:30.810-08:00This post is brought to you VERY early in the morning.From the girl who probably still has pain meds in her system and is loopy, but cant sleep because I have a hangover from hell from said pain medication.<br><br>Happy 2011!<br><br>So far mine hasn't been too happy! I was fine, talking to Melissa (who I suddenly realize needs a nickname!) while she talked NanananananananaNATE on the phone. Boom Boom and Sissy were passed out, each in a bed as we watched Blue's Clues. <br><br>And all I have to say about that is Steve is The Man! Joe kind of sucks. <br><br>Anywho, Melissa went home about 9:00 that morning sonata wouldn't get in trouble and I got comfy on the couch to fall asleep. I slept from about 10:15 that morning, until about noon. I was CRANKY!<br><br>About 2:45 that afternoon, I got that familiar feeling. That feeling where someone was slowly grabbing my ribs and squeezing as tight as they could. I had talked to my doctor about it a few years back and he told me I was having anxiety attacks. I was told to stay calm and get as comfortable as I can and "No Xanax because it's too addictive." (For the record, I can take HALF of the smallest dose and I'm out for hours.)<br><br>I tried to wTh The Bubs play Halo, but I couldn't get comfortable, as it hurt to lean against anything, and I was dry heaving some. (A total of 6 times. Ick.)<br><br>I assumed I was just tired since I'd only had two hours of sleep in the past 24. I took some Simply Sleep and dozed in and out for a few hours. It wasn't that good sleep though. It was the kind where you think you're asleep, but you can still hear everything going on. <br><br>I went and got my Lulu from outside, because dogs to cuddle with make merles scared, and waited up all night until I knew Nan would be awake, giving Papa his shot. <br><br>She beat me up and, after seeing my Facebook statuses, told me she was coming to take me to the ER. I still shouldn't be having an anxiety attack 16 hours later. <br><br>Yes. SIXTEEN HOURS of someone squeezing my ribs as hard as they could. I'm crazy, I know. I just figured I'd be okay until someone could come get me. (Did I mention I was at my former step mother's house? Alone. Because I was supposed to watch the kids, but ended up not being able to.) I wasn't about to wake anyone up and God and I had a deal that if it got too bad, I'd call 911. <br><br>7:00 AM rolls around and I roll into the ER. THE ER WHERE THERE AREN'T ANY OTHER PATIENTS! I was thrilled! <br><br>After an x ray, an ultra sound, five hours and a VERY scary time where I had an adverse reaction to the Dilaudid and seriously thought I was dying, they brought my Pulse Ox up and got me some ice. <br><br>Apparently I was loud (my ears were stopped up) and a bitch. All I remember is dozing off while sending a text and the next thing I know, people were screaming my name, but I couldn't respond. Then I wanted to change my pants because I'd peed the bed and know when Boom Boom was going to be there with my Sprite. <br><br>Turns out I have gall stones and was having a gall bladder attack. I get to meet with a surgeon tomorrow and see of it has to be taken out. <br><br>Wish me luck!Katie Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06298235179649576788noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4178357476341555089.post-66810544057649133312010-12-29T01:18:00.001-08:002010-12-29T01:19:02.067-08:00The Other Papa<p align="justify"><em>I call both of my grandfathers Papa so for the sake of not confusing people anymore than I do, they’ll now be known as Momma’s Papa and Daddie’s Papa.</em></p> <p align="justify">I got a text today about Daddie’s Papa.  He had a surgery scheduled for his shoulder and the prep tests ended up showing three major artery blockages.  As soon as they can make sure all the Plavix is out of his system, probably Friday, they’re going to preform a triple bypass.</p> <p align="justify">Momma’s Papa is living proof of the power of prayer so any positive thoughts and prayers you can send up for him are much needed and greatly appreciated!</p> <p align="justify">Daddie and his girlfriend drove down to Corpus today to be with him so I should be getting fairly regular updates, but we’re just a little freaked out.  He came to town less than a week ago for Christmas and now this.  Oh, well.  Positive thoughts only!</p> Katie Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06298235179649576788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4178357476341555089.post-15610596458544446792010-12-29T00:32:00.001-08:002010-12-29T00:32:30.542-08:00How to Add Text to a Video<p>Momma shared my video on her blog and some of her readers asked how I added the text to my video so I made this video to show you how.  I apologize for the rambling, snorts and the fact that I sound like a man.  I wore flip flops Christmas Eve and was freezing my butt off Christmas Day.  Gotta love Texas weather.</p> <p>Anywho, without further adieu, here’s my first attempt at ever showing someone how to do anything.</p> <div style="padding-bottom: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; float: none; padding-top: 0px" id="scid:5737277B-5D6D-4f48-ABFC-DD9C333F4C5D:4ed2ee0e-3ef1-4b26-b811-e01cd9d846fb" class="wlWriterEditableSmartContent"><div id="e05f454f-cf80-452d-89e8-245b0782c729" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; display: inline;"><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2U0MN262qL4&feature=youtube_gdata_player" target="_new"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_UF9UeIIUpto/TRryHWXyrbI/AAAAAAAAAS4/Y3LXvjOTQ04/videofde37983042a%5B6%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-style: none" galleryimg="no" onload="var downlevelDiv = document.getElementById('e05f454f-cf80-452d-89e8-245b0782c729'); downlevelDiv.innerHTML = "<div><object width=\"448\" height=\"252\"><param name=\"movie\" value=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/2U0MN262qL4?hl=en&hd=1\"><\/param><embed src=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/2U0MN262qL4?hl=en&hd=1\" type=\"application/x-shockwave-flash\" width=\"448\" height=\"252\"><\/embed><\/object><\/div>";" alt=""></a></div></div></div> <p>I hope that helps and you can actually follow it!  If not, let me know and I’ll see what I can do.</p> Katie Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06298235179649576788noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4178357476341555089.post-57443423925059993972010-12-25T19:05:00.001-08:002010-12-25T19:07:38.170-08:00Merry Christmas!<div style="padding-bottom: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; float: none; padding-top: 0px" id="scid:5737277B-5D6D-4f48-ABFC-DD9C333F4C5D:2de4545c-9989-4dd2-a355-197a4bb4e09d" class="wlWriterEditableSmartContent"><div id="bf5284aa-0a2d-4424-bf69-05727ac8c5a2" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; display: inline;"><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DFNdbes_7jM&feature=youtube_gdata_player" target="_new"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_UF9UeIIUpto/TRaw_0TwhjI/AAAAAAAAASw/FVgQ8HnPMOc/video5712743ab71b%5B5%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-style: none" galleryimg="no" onload="var downlevelDiv = document.getElementById('bf5284aa-0a2d-4424-bf69-05727ac8c5a2'); downlevelDiv.innerHTML = "<div><object width=\"425\" height=\"355\"><param name=\"movie\" value=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/DFNdbes_7jM&hl=en\"><\/param><embed src=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/DFNdbes_7jM&hl=en\" type=\"application/x-shockwave-flash\" width=\"425\" height=\"355\"><\/embed><\/object><\/div>";" alt=""></a></div></div></div> Katie Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06298235179649576788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4178357476341555089.post-59871104853212814712010-12-23T18:11:00.001-08:002010-12-23T18:12:15.760-08:00Merry Christmas<p align="center"><br><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_UF9UeIIUpto/TRQBWVmAM-I/AAAAAAAAASg/_Z4K1YYThuo/s1600-h/163648_10150343958625103_790365102_16557267_7723080_n%5B14%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="163648_10150343958625103_790365102_16557267_7723080_n" border="0" alt="163648_10150343958625103_790365102_16557267_7723080_n" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_UF9UeIIUpto/TRQBWwzqt6I/AAAAAAAAASk/QDH5gmcvV0E/163648_10150343958625103_790365102_16557267_7723080_n_thumb%5B10%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="327" height="484"></a><br><em>‘Tis the reason for the season.</em></p> <p>Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Here’s to full bellies, safe travels, plentiful gifts and enjoyable family time.</p> Katie Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06298235179649576788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4178357476341555089.post-59331347909934450282010-12-19T21:15:00.001-08:002010-12-19T21:18:16.031-08:00I’ll probably get a lot of crap for this.<p>I used to love Christmas. Decorations! Lights! PRESENTS! I loved coming home from the late candle light service at church. It was already Christmas and I went to bed knowing that Santa was on his way and I’d wake up soon to find presents under the tree and cookies eaten.</p> <p>I know Christmas isn’t about the presents and Santa. It’s about Jesus’ birthday and family, but the Santa part is a nice little perk. At least it used to be.</p> <p align="justify">I stopped <em>really </em>enjoying Christmas when I got into high school. I’ll admit that if we had get togethers I might like it a little more, but when your parents are divorced and your family isn’t as close as most, once the opening of presents is done, there really isn’t much more to do for the rest of the day.</p> <p align="justify">I’m the only child between my parents and the oldest of four between my dad and his ex-wife. Growing up, they didn’t make ridiculous amounts of money, be we had what we needed and come Christmas and birthdays, we got a little something extra. now they’re divorced and my dad makes more money that he ever has, which means the kids get more for Christmas now than I ever could have imagined. I realize life isn’t fair and that’s jut how things work, but it still sucks.</p> <p align="justify">I am an adult now and I don’t expect to get as many presents as I used to, but just because “I’m grow and should be out on my own” doesn’t mean that it hurts any less. </p> <p align="justify">As I sit here, The Bubs is complaining that Daddie owes him money for some toys that were left at Daddie’s ex-fiancée's house. Never mind the fact that it’s been almost a year since he’s seen them and they’ll just sit in his room, rarely being touched. Daddie <em>owes him the money</em> because they were left over there.</p> <p align="justify">He gets more for one Christmas than me and my two sisters ever got growing up and he takes that for granted. All I asked Daddie for this Christmas was an Epiphanie bag. I realize that, yes, it is a lot of money, but I’m okay with this being my only present. What bothers me is that The Bubs is asking for an Xbox for Christmas and Daddie keeps reminding me that I asked for such an expensive gift. </p> <p align="justify">I’m older than the youngest kids. I know that. I’m okay with that. I’m not okay with the fact that they get spoiled beyond belief when it comes to Christmas and I get the short end of the stick. </p> <p align="justify">I don’t want to come across as ungrateful or whiny, because I know there’s more to life than how many presents are under the tree come Christmas morning and I’m grateful to even have a tree to put presents under.</p> <p align="justify">Just because I’m older and don’t believe in Santa anymore thought doesn’t mean that it hurts any less when I get a few presents and The Youngins are opening present after present after present.</p> <p align="justify">The joy in Christmas gets taken away when you spend most of the morning fighting back tears because your feelings are so hurt.</p>Katie Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06298235179649576788noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4178357476341555089.post-6686678699167143102010-12-12T22:35:00.001-08:002010-12-12T22:35:49.003-08:00To Whom It May Concern:<p align="justify">As one of my last assignment in Political Science, we had to write a letter to an elected official expressing our opinion on something we feel needs to be changed or praising things that have been changed. I chose the first of the two. </p> <p align="justify">The following is a letter I wrote to my Congressman on behalf of my uncle’s fiancée:</p> <p align="justify"> </p> <blockquote> <p align="right">December 06, 2010 <p align="justify">The Honorable Ted Poe<br>United States House of Representatives<br>430 Cannon House Office Building<br>Washington, D.C. 20515-4302</p> <p align="justify">Dear Representative Poe: <p align="justify">I am writing this letter to raise awareness on Diabetes. Specifically continuous glucose monitoring systems (CGMS) and the lack of support our health care system has given it. I come from a family that is well aware of Diabetes. Both my mother and grandfather are Type II Diabetics. My uncle's fiancée is a Type 1 Diabetic. She is highly susceptible to low blood sugar and tolerant of it as well, which is a dangerous combination. Sometimes, she doesn't know her sugar is low until it is so low she loses consciousness. Because of this she cannot work and is on disability which leads to her receiving Medicaid benefits. <p align="justify">Having been diagnosed at a young age she has learned to deal with the ups and downs that come with the high and low blood sugars. Recently her blood sugar dropped while she was home alone and left her unconscious for a good amount of time before my uncle came home from work. This led to her being in the hospital for twelve days. Soon after she came home, she checked her blood sugar level before lunch and it was normal. When she checked it after lunch, around 12:15 PM, it was in the 200s (normal range is 70-150) so she was given some insulin. Two hours later she was sitting in my living room telling me how she didn't remember any of her hospital stay. She suddenly got quiet and started shaking. I asked if she was okay and she didn't respond. Normally a few sips of juice pulls it back up and she is fine. This time, she was still not responding when we talked to her. After checking her blood sugar we knew why, it had plummeted to a dangerous 20. It took a whole bottle of juice and three glucose tablets to pull her back up into the 50s, which is still dangerous, but made her capable of responding to us. <p align="justify">She wears an insulin pump and that helps her out some, but it is not enough. Her doctor has suggested that she could highly benefit from a CGMS. A CGMS is a device that continuously checks ones blood sugar levels. A sensor is placed right under the skin where the blood sugar is checked every 10 seconds and sends the information to the device. The device then automatically records an average of the readings every five minutes, up to 288 times a day. If levels are too high or too low, users can be alerted and act accordingly. As with most medical equipment, the CGMS comes with a high price tag. The pump itself costs around $6,000 with the remote being around $600. That is just the hardware, however. After the pump and remote, the CGMS disposable sensors are around $50 each and are only worn for three days before being thrown away. Pump supplies run about $200 a month before insulin. Because of the monthly expenses being so high, CGMS are considered "precautionary" and are not covered. <p align="justify">If she were to get a CGMS she could become a productive member of society again. She could get a job and therefore be able to stop receiving disability payments and if she were to find a job that offers their employees health care, she would no longer have a need to receive Medicaid benefits. Although CGMS are costly, the possibility of her losing consciousness could have been eliminated. The pump could have alerted her that her levels were getting low and she could have acted upon it. That in return would have kept her out of the hospital and I am fairly certain that the cost of supplying her with the "precautionary" CGMS is far less than the amount of money spent running tests and keeping her in the hospital for twelve days. <p align="justify">Any positive awareness that could be brought to the situation would only help. A CGMS is not necessary to live, but as "precautionary" as it may seem, the benefits and services it offers to its users can ultimately save their lives. I thank you for your time and hope that with the future changes to our health care system some of them can be positive ones and benefit those who need it. <p align="justify">Sincerely, <p align="justify">Katie B.</p></blockquote> <p align="justify">Now whether or not this will help, I don’t know, but it’s a start. I used to think people were weird for writing letter/emailing politicians. Now I know that if enough people do it, and do it correctly, that change can happen. Nothing changes overnight, but we can start small and work our way up. That’s what we elected the for in the first place, isn’t it? </p> Katie Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06298235179649576788noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4178357476341555089.post-84243782451144448232010-12-04T20:35:00.001-08:002010-12-04T20:36:17.181-08:00Here Comes the Bride<p align="justify">I know I said I was taking a break, but I just got back from my cousin’s wedding.  The wedding where I took 677 (or 3.79 GB of) pictures.</p> <p align="justify">I had dream upon dream of every possible thing that could go wrong.  I almost had 2 panic attacks.  I woke up sweating.  I was <em>beyond nervous</em>.</p> <p align="justify">Turns out I’m a big wuss.</p> <p> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/scarlettcommakatie/5233555768/"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="Bride and Groom" border="0" alt="Bride and Groom" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_UF9UeIIUpto/TPsWmWsuQ4I/AAAAAAAAASY/9sGsyRIV5yc/IMG_0374e%5B7%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="402" height="323" /></a> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/scarlettcommakatie/5233555412/in/photostream/"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="First Kiss" border="0" alt="First Kiss" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_UF9UeIIUpto/TPsWm8UNqYI/AAAAAAAAASc/UKe1ND9jUNg/Kisse%5B10%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="407" height="306" /></a> </p> <p align="justify">I have a lot of work to do sorting and editing, but I’m happy with myself.  I’m not one to normally step outside my comfort zone too often.  I’m really glad I did this time.  I’m pleased with how the pictures turned out and I’m proud of myself.</p> <p align="justify">Congratulations, you two!</p> Katie Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06298235179649576788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4178357476341555089.post-5583937442338641632010-11-29T23:36:00.001-08:002010-11-29T23:36:37.535-08:00School. Holidays. Pictures. Change. January.<p align="justify">It’s raining outside. That hard, loud, makes you want to curl up and nap rain. I’m glad there’s a cold front coming in, I just wish it would stay cold for more than 5 days. I seriously should not be wearing flip flops when tomorrow is December 1st.</p> <p align="justify">School has been kicking my butt. It’s a good thing, but I’m so glad that I have two finals December 8th and 10th, a case study due December 13th and then <strong>I’M DONE</strong>! Thank heavens.</p> <p align="justify">Thanksgiving was quite nice this year. No drama and my uncle is ‘working on his people skills’ and was extra nice to me. I’m happy to say that he’s come a long way from barking at me when I was a little kid! (Yes, I said barking. My family is a strange one, I know.)</p> <p align="justify">This is a lot of random thoughts and for the 7 of you that read this, welcome to my world. I do apologize. </p> <p align="justify">I wanted so badly to finish that 30 Day Blog Challenge, but I don’t know. It got kind of boring. I’m a little unhappy with myself that I didn’t finish it, but I’m okay with it, too. I lasted a lot long than I though I was going to. I think I posted more this month than I ever have.</p> <p align="justify">My cousin is getting married Saturday and I’m the photographer. I’m so nervous, but excited nonetheless. I bought my camera with the intention of taking pictures and making a little extra money here and there, so this is perfect. I’m not letting her pay me since she’s my cousin, but you get the point.</p> <p align="justify">I may post some pictures of the wedding next week, but other than that I think I’m going to lay low until January. I have finals to study for, classes to register for, Christmas is coming up and I have two and a half more seasons of True Blood to watch. (Like Lost and Twilight, I’m jumping on the band wagon a wee late.)</p> <p align="justify">I have some ideas that I want to turn into a reality and I think January is the perfect time to do so. It gives me time to get all my ducks in a row and what better way to start off the new year than with change.</p> <p align="justify">So to sum things up. School. Holidays. Pictures. Change. January.</p> <p align="justify">See you then, folks!</p> Katie Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06298235179649576788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4178357476341555089.post-12050735798876425762010-11-20T00:34:00.001-08:002010-11-20T00:34:27.722-08:00Talent, huh?I always hate when I'm asked what my talents and hobbies are. Some people sing. Some people dance. Some people play sports. I can't even walk across the room without tripping over my own feet. <br><br>I love kids and am quite good with them. I enjoy getting down to their level and playing, coloring, singing, whatever their little imaginations come up with. I love to cook and bake. I won first and third place in a photography contest my senior year. I can tell you what kind of car I'm looking at, make and model, by the tail lights. (Modern day, at least.) I can sleep pretty much anywhere as long as I can sit. I can also count out twenty quarters just by weighing them in my hand. <br><br>I was in drama club in middle school and earned tons of ribbons and medals. I can read upside down and backwards and can spell words backwards, as well. <br><br>As far as talents, well, mine definitely aren't normal. People tell me I'm weird all the time. I don't care. I'd rather be different than be boring. Plus, normal is only a setting in the washing machine. Katie Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06298235179649576788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4178357476341555089.post-36856335302169071292010-11-18T23:57:00.001-08:002010-11-18T23:59:20.456-08:00What to say about my best friend?<p align="justify">I really don’t think there are enough words for how much I love my best friend.  She’s my better half.  I can tell her anything and everything, which I basically do, without fear of being judged.</p> <p align="justify">We’ve been friends on and off since 5th grade.  Life has gotten in the way and we’ve lost touch, but we’ve always found a way to find each other again.  I thought that this time it was going to be different and that we weren’t going to be able to go back to the way things were.  We didn’t.  Things are so much better this time around.  Blame is on age or maturity or whatever you want.  I blame it on our awesomeness.</p> <p align="justify">We laugh about the stupidest things and know how to take a joke.  We don’t always think alike, but I think that’s what makes us work.  We’re the same in the places that are most important and the things that are opposite about us are the things that compliment each other.  </p> <p align="justify">She’s the first person I can call when I have a bad day and need to be cheered up.  The first person I can call when I have exciting news.  She’s the first person I can call for everything!</p> <p align="justify">People tell me I’m weird, loud and awkward. She tells me I’m friendly and know how to have a good time.  People say things, things that are mean and cruel, but not her.  She sees the good in me when I can’t and loves me flaws and all, which is a rarity these days.</p> <p align="justify">I can guarantee that if one of us were a male, we’d get married and live happily ever after.  We’ll just have to settle on finding husbands that can handle us and the fact that they’ll be number 1.5!</p> <p align="justify">I don’t know where I’d be today had she not sent me that friend request and I mean that.  Life is so much easier when you know all you have to do is pick up the phone and have someone like her on the other line.</p> <p align="justify">Boom Boom, I love you like I love my family.  You’re one of the best friends I’ve ever had and I’m so glad you came back into my life when you did.  You’re the apple of my eye.  The peanut to my butter, er, cookie to my monster since you’re allergic.  (Wow that sounds dirty!)  You really are my better half. </p> <p align="justify">I can’t to find husbands, buy houses next door to each other and be the house wife who takes care of the kids while you and our husbands go make the money.</p> <p align="justify">I don’t know of many people who would put up with me like you do.</p> <blockquote> <p align="justify">Good morning, love!  My butt just had a miscarriage.  It was yours.  Sorry we can’t be mothers together and corrupt our poop baby.</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p align="justify">Lmao.  Oh, Katie Kate I love waking up to your texts.</p> </blockquote> <p align="justify">If only for the above reason alone, you can never leave me again! </p> <p align="justify">Ifly, <br />@Katie Kate</p> Katie Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06298235179649576788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4178357476341555089.post-74813320962603363812010-11-17T22:25:00.000-08:002010-11-17T22:41:06.111-08:00ArtI took Art Appreciation my first semester of college, so you'd think that this would be easy, but it isn't. I spent a good while searching through endless pieces, but couldn't really find one that I loved.<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://www.theintellectualdevotional.com/blog/2008/09/">Starry Night</a><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>is a good one, but everybody likes that one. <span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://www.artinthepicture.com/paintings/Claude_Monet/Water-Lilies/">Water-Lilies</a> reminds me of Titanic; <a href="http://entertainment.howstuffworks.com/arts/artwork/claude-monet-paintings-1879-18864.htm"><span style="font-style: italic;">Boquet of Sunflowers</span></a>, Mona Lisa Smile.<br /><br />Art isn't just paintings though. It's sculptures and drawings and pictures and anything you want it to be! One of my all time favorite photographs is <span style="font-style: italic;">V-J Day in Times Square.</span><em><strong><br /><br /><br /></strong></em><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOLN1iwANcHtfevKHF88Zx2bHZJ_x-IlDhJADkeoBqSaCbwCaf4y8xRWFxLuwGN5BJaQ9M1Z7bDHG7wMy20upT6oCSDI6VRAEExtrCvpOtk-LdpZFsALrTF32696lTthnoOyLKXEVhkYk/s1600/vj-at-times-square.jpg"></a><a href="http://entertainment.howstuffworks.com/arts/artwork/claude-monet-paintings-1879-18864.htm"><strong style="font-weight: normal;"><em></em></strong></a> <img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 265px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOLN1iwANcHtfevKHF88Zx2bHZJ_x-IlDhJADkeoBqSaCbwCaf4y8xRWFxLuwGN5BJaQ9M1Z7bDHG7wMy20upT6oCSDI6VRAEExtrCvpOtk-LdpZFsALrTF32696lTthnoOyLKXEVhkYk/s320/vj-at-times-square.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540772767273702994" border="0" /><br /><br />I want it blown up and hung above my bed when I get my own house. It just screams romance to me and I absolutely love it!Katie Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06298235179649576788noreply@blogger.com0