Sinus Spelunking

Tomorrow, I am having surgery. About a month ago, my ENT doc recommended I have my sinuses overhauled. So, as of 1 p.m. Thursday, a team of medical professionals will be excavating my nasal cavities in an effort to manage my chronic sinitus.

The process of mapping my sinuses has been extremely fascinating. It's not everyday that you get to see CT scan results of your cranium, organized in 15 layers like an onion. There are three main objectives on the doctor's agenda:

1) Septoplasty

A nasal septum is a straight plane that divides the nasal cavity in half. A normal septum is flat and thin. My septum is wavy, like a ridged potato chip. This makes it difficult to breathe through my right nostril, as the canal is significantly smaller than the left side. So, the doc will manually straighten my septum, and then place two splints on either side while I heal. The splints will be removed during my post-op appointment next Monday.

I really hope this doesn't change the shape and size of my nose. I have a great nose, one that will someday be pierced, I hope.

2) Turbinectomy

A turbinate, or nasal concha (think conch shell), is a curled bone within the sinuses. The turbinates are the humidifiers for the nose, keeping the air regulated and free from contaminates. One of my interior-lower turbinates is enlarged. Enlargement is a result of prolonged irritation from allergens and sinus inflammation. The doc will shave layers off my turbinate, effectively reducing it in size. This makes me cringe to think about.

3) Ethmoidectomy

The ethmoid sinuses are pockets on either side of the bridge of the nose, between the eyes and the eyebrows. Mine are exceptionally small, and as a result, the canals that allow draining are miniscule. So, when I get congested, the pollutants remain in my ethmoids and get infected. To fix this, the doc will break those little soft bone canals and increase their size.

Supposedly, I'll be heavily sedated for the first couple of days following surgery. After that, I'll remain on qualified "bed rest" for about a week. At this point, I'm hoping to be back to work on Tuesday, but that's only if the doc clears me at my post-op on Monday.

A couple of people have wondered why I'd willingly put myself through this pain and suffering. I know it's going to be worth it, especially after 28 years of chronic sinus issues. The benefits:

--a reduction in sinus infections
--increased ability to breathe through my nose
--better quality of sleep at night
--increased ability to perceive smell
--increased ability to perceive taste (let's be real; this is my favorite justification)
--elimination of my propensity to blame my sinus issues on the weather

I'm a teensy bit anxious about the surgery. I'm sure Mom and Dad will take good care of me during recovery. Dad called this morning and asked what kind of Jello I liked. I wonder if they'll give me a bell to ring when I need service.

I'll probably be MIA (a.k.a. hydrocodone coma) for a few days. And then, I plan to read the last two Twilight books, get past the third chapter in Jane Austen's Mansfield Park for book club, and watch countless hours of movies and Flight of the Conchords reruns.

If you're the praying kind, I'd love a shout-out tommorrow.

Workplace Bullies

It's been a long time coming. This is an overdue post, one I am finally compelled to write for several reasons:

1) It's gorgeous outside today. An 84-degrees-sunny-with-a-westernly-breeze kind of gorgeous.
2) Ben Harper is on my iPod singing, don't let 'em take the fight outta you!
3) I just finished off a delicious lunch at the new Hutton Hotel's 1808 Grille. Delicious.
4) Fridays are synonymous with office shenanigans.

Anyway, I love pranks. Not mean pranks, but the kind that are annoying to other people and hilarious to me. Thankfully, my co-worker Nathan shares my love for them as well. He's been known to saunter into my office and exclaim, "let's do something mean to somebody today!" These are unfortunate circumstances for some of my co-workers. I won't name any names, but Nathan and I have our favorites.

Today's victim (okay, everyday's victim) was Matt. Randy Travis paid Matt a little visit while he was lunching:

Please notice my...I mean...Randy's, autographing handiwork.

It's not the first time that Matt has been the subject of our relentless antics. In June of 2007, I'd been employed at my company for about three weeks when Matt left work to travel on business. While he was gone, I turned everything in his office upside down---his papers, everything on his walls, his phone, calendar, computer monitor, desk chair, all of it. Of course, I thought this was hi-larious. Matt? Not so much. I know he secretly likes it though. That's why I keep doing it.

I used to have another co-worker that liked to walk around barefoot. Pew. So, one day, Nathan and I hid her shoes. We still laugh about that one.

My life is a long and detailed history of practical jokes. I grew up in a family that expressed love by picking on each other. In fourth grade, I had a fabulous teacher named Ms. Wright. Ms. Wright was terrified of spiders. Terrified. My parents encouraged me to put a large toy spider in her chair before class one day. So, I did, and got the whole class in on the gig. Like clockwork, Ms. Wright pulled out her chair, leapt in the air and hollered in fear. I can still remember the chorus of laughter that rang out from my fourth grade classroom.

She got me back though. Later in the year, on the day that I was about to leave for Disney World, she told me that my dad lost his job and that we couldn't go to Disney World anymore. I cried. And, oh, she felt so bad about that. Ms. Wright nicknamed me "the thorn in her side."

When I was in college, I worked at Hastings Entertainment. We had this stupid faux-wood plaque on the wall outside the break room for the employee of the month. Glued to the front was a clear acrylic holder for a polaroid picture. One time, this girl won employee of the month, and I drew a Sharpie-mustache on her face. I got in trouble for this. If I remember correctly, my manager used the word "defacing" while she yelled at me. She told me that she had never seen something so mean. I was genuinely sorry, thinking I'd hurt the poor girl's feelings, but the girl thought it was hilarious. I'm glad someone appreciated the effort I put forth.

In the aftermath of Randy Travis today, Courtney said, "people either love you two or they hate you two."

I said, "if they hate us, it's 'cause they wanna be us." Right, Nathan?

Pick a Side, Greg.

Life is black or white for me. There is not a lot of room for gray matter. What's right is right, wrong is wrong. My decisions aren't based on feelings, but what I believe to be true. As a result, I'm often perceived as unemotional and hard. It's not a fair assessment of who I am, but I get that label anyway. And go figure, that hurts my feelings.

Kittens: Inspired by Kittens

Party with a Purpose

Last night, I celebrated my 28th and four days birthday with some friends. This year, we partied with a purpose and created 28 care bags for the homeless. Everyone brought something---bottled water, socks, a hair brush, hand wipes, granola bars, first aid kit, toothbrush, toothpaste, and lip balm. Courtney constructed gorgeous handmade cards to go in each of the bags.

Several weeks ago, I wrote fast food restaurants with locations in the downtown area, asking for 28 coupons or giftcards to go inside the bags. I didn't hear from some, and got rejections from others. Last week, I got home from work and got a letter in the mail. I opened it up, and out fell 28 cards for FREE fish dinners from Captain D's. I was ecstatic.

The picture I'm going to send as a thank you to Captain D's.

Soon, we'll go and hand-deliver the bags to the homeless on the streets of Nashville. I can't wait to go love on the unloved!

mmmmmmm Funfetti

Dream On

Oh, how I would love to be married, be a mom, keep a house, and do the family laundry in Electrolux's new kelly green washer/dryer combo. I would even settle for the red set...

Easter Feaster

Tonight, I have the birthday sighs. It's been an eventful weekend, but now I'm alone and kind of sad. You know, it's kind of like when the circus leaves town.

Friday morning, Arica and I met Emily at a new French cafe in Brentwood, specializing in crepes. The Perch is a small, but equipped with two very large crepe griddles behind the counter. I think they've got a few kinks to work out with their crepe ingredients, but the buttered-cinnamon-sugar pastry I ate was oh-so-melty. I'm tickled to see a place like this in Nashville!

Friday night, Siebe and Aubree took me to dinner for my birthday at Ombi over on Elliston. We ordered an a pitcher of sangria, an assortment of tapas, and two desserts to top us off. After dinner, the three of us made our way over to the Ryman to see Bret and Jemaine of Flight of the Conchords live. The opening act was a surprise, as Kristen Schaal, otherwise known as "Mel" on FOTC, took the stage in gold-sequined shorts. I was hoping for a Murray appearance too, but Bret and Jemaine were hilarious enough to keep us happy.

Saturday, I spent a leisurely time shopping with mom and grilling with dad. Dad grills the best hamburgers. There's just something about being at home just being.

This morning, my trio of roommates greeted my bed head with the grandest birthday tradition of them all, chocolate chip pancakes. The parentals picked me up for Easter Sunday church service, and afterward, we took some pictures with the gorgeous tulips at Centennial Park. Mom made a delicious Easter brunch and then she and I watched Marley & Me while Dad watched the rest of the Masters. It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, otherwise known as the best kind.

I got home a little while ago from Siebe and Aubree's, where the three of us feasted on Easter dinner as "family." Siebe prepared a sugar-smoked ham and savory twice-baked potatoes, and Aubree a sweet and salty pretzel salad.

It strikes me how much my Easter weekend revolved around food. And after reading this again, I'm not so sad anymore. I'm so appreciative of the friends and family that made me feel special this weekend for my birthday. I'm full.

Lady in Waiting

I received news yesterday that something I'd planned on for a month didn't pan out like I hoped. Strangely, I'm not as disappointed as I thought I would be.

In my Beth Moore Esther study this week, the session's theme was about "waiting." Beth told us that we're not waiting on a person, an event, or a circumstance. We're waiting on God's plan for our lives, and until we realize this, we will constantly be restless.

I, for one, hate to wait. I like instant gratification, or at least planned delayed gratification. I don't mind waiting on something, as long as I control the circumstances in which I wait. I'm a mover and a shaker, and my psyche believes that waiting is a waste of time.

My coming to terms with patience has been, well, kinda ugly. But the timeliness of having to deal with this issue in my life couldn't be more apropos, as today is Good Friday. I am waiting three days for my Savior to rise and conquer death.

I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in His Word I put my hope.

Psalm 130:5

For the grace of God that brings salvation has appeared to all men. It teaches us to say "no" to ungodliness and worldy passions, and to live self-controlled, upright and godly lives in this present age, while we wait for the blessed hope -- the glorious appearing of our God and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Titus 2:11-13

I got my Philosophy.

Sometimes, I just love myself. It occured to me last night how incredibly dorky, yet oh-so-much-fun I am. I had a blast with yours truly at Ben Folds. I may have been "alone," but that didn't stop me from shouting the words to my favorite songs and dancing along uninhibitedly to the beat. I left the Ryman with a HUGE smile on my face.

Now you take this all for granted
You take the mortar, block, and glass
And you forget the speech that moved the stone
And it's really not that you can't see
The forest from the trees
You just never been out in the woods alone

Autonomy

One isn't always the loneliest number. Last Monday night, I enjoyed a Dragon roll at my favorite sushi restaurant, Miyako, while dining alone. Sometimes, the peace and quiet are nice. And I find that dining alone affords lots of time for people watching.

Tonight, I am flying solo to the Ben Folds concert at the Ryman Auditorium. Ben Folds Five are one of my top ten favorite bands of all time. This is a moot point, as the band is now defunct. I'll have to settle for one third, just Ben Folds. I never had the privilege of seeing the band before they parted ways. However, I did see Ben Folds at the legendary 328 Performance Hall in September of 2001. And, Citizen Cope opened for him.

Anyway, the point? I'm going to see Mr. Folds again tonight, and I will be alone. I'm still mourning the relocation of my concert buddy, Jamey, and Mason's gone MIA. So, it's me, myself and I.

I've never been to a concert alone before. A movie? Yes. To a foreign country? Yes. But a concert? No. This will be a new experience for me, and I'm quite excited. Maybe I'll meet someone interesting. Interesting, being an attractive male in his late 20s/early 30s with day-old scruff and nerdy glasses.

Of course, Mom has reservations. Here's how the conversation took place:

Mom: "What?!?! You're going by yourself?!?! You know I don't think that's a good idea!"
Me: "Well, sometimes you can't always be with someone else and life goes on."
Mom: "Well?!?! Where are you going to park?!?!"
Me: "I dunno, in a parking place, I guess."
Mom: "Mer, you know what I mean! There are homeless people downtown at night!"
My thoughts: Homeless people! The horror! I might get the chance to hug one of them!
Me: "I'll be careful Mom."
Mom: "What time is the concert over? Will you call me when you get in your car with the doors locked?"

Gotta love my Momma. She cares about her little independent chica. And that feels good.

Good. Great?

In twelve days, I will turn 28 years old, but I still feel like I'm 13 sometimes. Thirteen was my heinous age. I was in seventh grade, and it was hellacious. That "flailing" feeling is haunting me lately. I'm struggling to find my purpose, my place.

I realized this week that I'm "good" at a lot of things, but not "great" at much. My execution as an overachiever has never fallen short, but it's only because of my extra effort---not natural ability. For instance, I'm can knit a pretty scarf, but only using one continuous stitch. I can entertain you with my blogging, but I can't seem to get any freelance work.

Maybe this is also the way I feel when it comes to my dating relationships. I'll do, but I'm not the first choice. I want to be someone's "great."

I promise I'm not knocking myself. I happen to really like me. And I am well aware of my "greatness" and worth in the eyes of my Lord. Don't you dare try to throw me a pity party. Life can't always be peaches and cream, and I guess that's okay. It's reality, anyway.