Of course, that's the story of my life.
I went in to Dr. D today about the depression. I told her that I had gotten the Lexapro from my sister (which is such a lie... she won't even give me a phone call) and she was very understanding about it. In fact, Dr. D really likes Lexapro because there are so fewer side effects. She bumped me up to 20 mg, and gave me two different scrips - one so I can get it filled now and one to mail in.
She wants me to come back in 6 months to see how it's working, and to discuss talk therapy. Been there, done that. But, perhaps she can hook me up with someone that will actually help. The last person that I saw was a really nice lady, but we never really worked on it. Not that I know what to expect, mind you, but I thought that it would be much more introspective and problem solving than it was.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Purge
I just deleted Dooce from my bookmarks. I wish her all the best, but I'm over it. Now, I have more room for fabulous things like Haiku of the Day and Mimi Smartypants and Things What Things and Velcrometer. They're all my heroes.
Awwwwww.
Awwwwww.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Another Day Down the Tubes
At least I was at home today, so it wasn't as horrible as it could have been. But, I have come to the conclusion that it's just bad for me to work at both jobs on the same day. By the time that I got home last night at 10:30, I needed a vicodin and two klonopin. Boy, did I sleep wonderfully!
It's been so lovely here at night. Normally, it goes from 30 to 80 this time of year, and even the nights are brutal. We've had the windows open a little every night for the last week, and I can't help but think that's helping with the sleep issues. Well, that and all of the chemicals.
It's been so lovely here at night. Normally, it goes from 30 to 80 this time of year, and even the nights are brutal. We've had the windows open a little every night for the last week, and I can't help but think that's helping with the sleep issues. Well, that and all of the chemicals.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Excruciating
Last night, I was squatting, digging something out of my medicine cabinet under the sink. Because I am an enormous clod, I fell backwards onto the cold, hard, tile floor. Right on my fistula, which has been giving me lots of problems lately anyway.
I screamed. A came and sat in the doorway of the bathroom as I tried not to cry and hyperventilate. Eventually, I staggered into the bedroom to lay down. Vicodin, here we come!
Today, it's bleeding. A lot. And, it's so sore that sitting is difficult. I am not sure how I'm going to make it all day in the office tomorrow and then at the store tomorrow night. I have to call Dr. L and get more vicodin.
I hate asking for vicodin. I've gotten lectured by him about it so many times, but I still hate asking. We both know that I'm not an addict, I take it rarely, and it doesn't really have any other effect on me than taking away the pain. But, I still hate asking for it. He always gives me a full month and one refill, and it usually takes more than a year to take it all (including sharing it with needy people and refilling it before it expires).
I screamed. A came and sat in the doorway of the bathroom as I tried not to cry and hyperventilate. Eventually, I staggered into the bedroom to lay down. Vicodin, here we come!
Today, it's bleeding. A lot. And, it's so sore that sitting is difficult. I am not sure how I'm going to make it all day in the office tomorrow and then at the store tomorrow night. I have to call Dr. L and get more vicodin.
I hate asking for vicodin. I've gotten lectured by him about it so many times, but I still hate asking. We both know that I'm not an addict, I take it rarely, and it doesn't really have any other effect on me than taking away the pain. But, I still hate asking for it. He always gives me a full month and one refill, and it usually takes more than a year to take it all (including sharing it with needy people and refilling it before it expires).
Friday, May 16, 2008
Ah, Friday
How lovely to go to lunch with M and have a few beers. Too bad that I am so sleepy now, when I have plants to plant, dessert to bake, laundry to fold, and work to do. It's really a terrible habit, and I really should only have one beer instead of two, but it's so DELIGHTFUL.
The Perils of Poo in Public
My flare isn't getting any better. Nothing that I eat stays with me for much longer than an hour max. This means that there will be times that I will have a problem when I'm in the office, and it's pretty brutal.
Gene Weingarten has talked about Poo Shame a number of times in his chat on the Washington Post, and I fall firmly in the camp that is in denial. When I was in college, I would hold it for hours until I was able to get to my designated toilet. Now, that's not an option. I use the "courtesy flush" early and often, and yesterday I found myself lurking in the stall until I was sure that everyone that was in the bathroom had left. I am terrified of having all kinds of horrendous sounds and smells that are not fully masked by the flushes and running into someone at the sink.
You would think that I would make it a point not to eat things that would set it off, but that's no fun. You would also think that I would remember to bring the wet wipes from my desk with me, but that's no fun either. I should just offer the suffering up to God. I'm sure he'd be very sympathetic, especially after I ate fries with my lunch.
I used to work with a woman that used to GRUNT when she was in her stall. She wouldn't wash her hands, either. We were all a little relieved (no pun intended) when she was fired.
H is a fearless pooper, but most men are. He knows that if he has to go, he has to go. But, he did tell me recently that he will sometimes go to a different floor in his office to go if he thinks that it will be particularly bad. Perhaps he has a little Poo Shame after all.
Gene Weingarten has talked about Poo Shame a number of times in his chat on the Washington Post, and I fall firmly in the camp that is in denial. When I was in college, I would hold it for hours until I was able to get to my designated toilet. Now, that's not an option. I use the "courtesy flush" early and often, and yesterday I found myself lurking in the stall until I was sure that everyone that was in the bathroom had left. I am terrified of having all kinds of horrendous sounds and smells that are not fully masked by the flushes and running into someone at the sink.
You would think that I would make it a point not to eat things that would set it off, but that's no fun. You would also think that I would remember to bring the wet wipes from my desk with me, but that's no fun either. I should just offer the suffering up to God. I'm sure he'd be very sympathetic, especially after I ate fries with my lunch.
I used to work with a woman that used to GRUNT when she was in her stall. She wouldn't wash her hands, either. We were all a little relieved (no pun intended) when she was fired.
H is a fearless pooper, but most men are. He knows that if he has to go, he has to go. But, he did tell me recently that he will sometimes go to a different floor in his office to go if he thinks that it will be particularly bad. Perhaps he has a little Poo Shame after all.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
huge relief
The woman from the closet place was here this morning and designed a gorgeous new closet for us. Thankfully, it is almost half of what I had expected it to cost. We're not doing anything extravagant, but it will certainly suffice (and will give us almost twice the space to boot).
Unfortunately, we'll have to wait for about a month for an installation date. H will look at the plans with me tonight, the contract will go in tomorrow, and she'll call me with an exact date. At least it will only take one day to get it installed.
It will really be beautiful when it's finished. And such a tremendous relief!
Unfortunately, we'll have to wait for about a month for an installation date. H will look at the plans with me tonight, the contract will go in tomorrow, and she'll call me with an exact date. At least it will only take one day to get it installed.
It will really be beautiful when it's finished. And such a tremendous relief!
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
feeling very lousy today
I am working from home today because I was up and down all night. I'll spare the gory details but let's just say that my earlier observation about symptoms being surpressed by adrenaline are not necessarily accurate. Or, perhaps now that I'm more relaxed, the adrenaline is no longer an issue. I was in and out of the bathroom a few times last night at job #2. I'm completely worn out and it feels like wild animals are trying to escape from my colon. It goes without saying that the joint pain is pretty insane.
On a cute note, K has been obsessed with the birds outside the bedroom window. She's been sitting there all morning, chattering and twitching and staring. It's really adorable. Thankfully, it's cool today so the window is open and the blinds are up. A is almost as interested (but she's generally more nonchalant anyway).
On a cute note, K has been obsessed with the birds outside the bedroom window. She's been sitting there all morning, chattering and twitching and staring. It's really adorable. Thankfully, it's cool today so the window is open and the blinds are up. A is almost as interested (but she's generally more nonchalant anyway).
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Not sure if I really want to revel in this
There was an interesting article about Mad Pride in today's NYT. I know that my problems are legion, and that I take a hell of a lot of medication for them (between the depression and the Crohn's). I am much more open about telling people about it, but I don't know that I would necessarily want to celebrate it. Both illnesses are an intrinsic part of who I am, and they're certainly not going to go away any time in the future, but I'm not particularly proud of them.
Blogging about it is enough, and I'm doing this mostly to get it off of my chest. Certainly not out of any desire to become famous or renowned or widely read or anything like that.
Blogging about it is enough, and I'm doing this mostly to get it off of my chest. Certainly not out of any desire to become famous or renowned or widely read or anything like that.
Happy Mother's Day
H bought the loveliest card for me, along with an adorable one from the cats. Yes, we are tremendous geeks. Even more wonderful was that he bought me a gorgeous teal, mother of pearl, and brown beaded necklace to go with it. I certainly never expected anything... even a card. After all, I don't have a human child. But, I guess that I do take care of the three of them in a quasi-maternal fashion.
Anyway, it was very thoughtful and the necklace is gorgeous. I'm already planning an outfit that will feature it when I have to go into the office on Tuesday.
Anyway, it was very thoughtful and the necklace is gorgeous. I'm already planning an outfit that will feature it when I have to go into the office on Tuesday.
Friday, May 9, 2008
Lexapro update
It's too early to tell if it's working, but I've been taking it every morning. One week out and I haven't had any nausea or any other weird side effects that I can mention. Of course, this week hasn't been the best week to test it or pay close attention to my mental state, but shit happens.
I hope that it starts to work and works well. I don't want to go back to Effexor and I have an irrational dislike of Cymbalta because of the stupid commercials.
I hope that it starts to work and works well. I don't want to go back to Effexor and I have an irrational dislike of Cymbalta because of the stupid commercials.
Weary to the bone
The last few days have been pretty rough. My company had a 2-day seminar for visiting clients, and Wednesday was spent setting up for it. Actually, all week was spent setting up. Thankfully, I only worked at job #2 on Monday night, and I don't have to go in until 4 tomorrow.
Seminars and trade shows are grueling for normal people, but for those with chronic illnesses, they can be torture. There's no getting around a profound lack of sleep, physical exhaustion from overexertion, and worry about food. I need a minimum of 8 hours of sleep in order to be able to function nominally, but that rarely happens when you have to be somewhere before 7am to set up.
For this seminar, I slept in my own bed (even though it required a 45-minute drive at ungodly hours). I had the option of staying at the hotel with one of my co-workers, but I am terrified to share a room with someone. I never sleep well in hotels, and I like my suggested roommate too much to subject her to my high maintenance. Sleep for me almost always requires some kind of medication, and it doesn't always work when I'm in a different place. And if I don't sleep, I try to read or surf or watch the Weather Channel until I knock out. Not really conducive to someone else trying to get any rest.
And then there's the food thing. I would have been mortified if I had been in and out of the bathroom all night. Food is always dodgy at these things. Breakfast is usually pretty safe (bagels, fresh fruit) but lunch and dinner can be scary fried things off of the buffet. Add a few drinks to dinner or after dinner and it's a recipe for disaster. The best part of this seminar is that, other than the cocktail reception last night, I was not required to stay or entertain for dinner.
After helping pack everything up this afternoon, and taking a colleague to the airport, I was able to get home by 4 this afternoon. I went right to bed. Every joint in my lower body aches, and I'm completely exhausted. So exhausted, in fact, that I'm having a hard time sleeping now. I should have asked H not to wake me up at all, but I was afraid that if he didn't, that I would wake up at 2 am starving and eat something horrible.
So, how do people with Crohn's survive at trade shows? Pain killers? Not eating? Not drinking? I just have to grit my teeth and get through it. I do have a theory about the diarrhea, though. There have been many times, and this week was no exception, that I was extremely stressed out and having a flare. However, I didn't have any urgency or embarrassing moments while I was in public. Of course, when I got home, all hell broke loose. Oddly enough, I wasn't even really crampy. Was I just so distracted that I didn't obsess over it? Is my colon so well trained that it only wreaks havoc in my house? I've noticed the same phenomena when I am on plane flights, regardless of the length. Does adrenaline play some part in slowing the process?
Seminars and trade shows are grueling for normal people, but for those with chronic illnesses, they can be torture. There's no getting around a profound lack of sleep, physical exhaustion from overexertion, and worry about food. I need a minimum of 8 hours of sleep in order to be able to function nominally, but that rarely happens when you have to be somewhere before 7am to set up.
For this seminar, I slept in my own bed (even though it required a 45-minute drive at ungodly hours). I had the option of staying at the hotel with one of my co-workers, but I am terrified to share a room with someone. I never sleep well in hotels, and I like my suggested roommate too much to subject her to my high maintenance. Sleep for me almost always requires some kind of medication, and it doesn't always work when I'm in a different place. And if I don't sleep, I try to read or surf or watch the Weather Channel until I knock out. Not really conducive to someone else trying to get any rest.
And then there's the food thing. I would have been mortified if I had been in and out of the bathroom all night. Food is always dodgy at these things. Breakfast is usually pretty safe (bagels, fresh fruit) but lunch and dinner can be scary fried things off of the buffet. Add a few drinks to dinner or after dinner and it's a recipe for disaster. The best part of this seminar is that, other than the cocktail reception last night, I was not required to stay or entertain for dinner.
After helping pack everything up this afternoon, and taking a colleague to the airport, I was able to get home by 4 this afternoon. I went right to bed. Every joint in my lower body aches, and I'm completely exhausted. So exhausted, in fact, that I'm having a hard time sleeping now. I should have asked H not to wake me up at all, but I was afraid that if he didn't, that I would wake up at 2 am starving and eat something horrible.
So, how do people with Crohn's survive at trade shows? Pain killers? Not eating? Not drinking? I just have to grit my teeth and get through it. I do have a theory about the diarrhea, though. There have been many times, and this week was no exception, that I was extremely stressed out and having a flare. However, I didn't have any urgency or embarrassing moments while I was in public. Of course, when I got home, all hell broke loose. Oddly enough, I wasn't even really crampy. Was I just so distracted that I didn't obsess over it? Is my colon so well trained that it only wreaks havoc in my house? I've noticed the same phenomena when I am on plane flights, regardless of the length. Does adrenaline play some part in slowing the process?
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Shredder Girl
Oh, yeah... I wanted to tell you about my great triumph this last weekend! Of course, it was borne of panic, but it worked out well in the end.
My desk in my office is a train wreck. I have always had these grand ideas for organization, but I'm not a naturally organized person so it was nothing more than a pipe dream. But, the one thing that I did keep on top of was the Travel file. H and I go to lots of live concerts, so the Travel file is where we keep all of the tickets and other pertinent information.
H is going to Florida in June to see Pearl Jam in Fort Lauderdale and Tampa (I'm going to pass, thank you very much). The tickets came a few weeks ago. I remember clearly seeing them on the center island in the kitchen and then they vanished. I thought that I had probably put them in the Travel file, but I Couldn't Find Them. So, being the nutjob that I am, I started to panic. I realized after a few days that the best way to look for them was to finally take the time to organize the drawers and files and pray to God that the tickets were in there. So, on Sunday morning, I got the big garbage can, extra bags, and the shredder, and went through every document in the drawers. Boy, are they beautiful now.
As you probably already guessed, there was no sign of the tickets.
I had just finished the project, and was about to start looking for replacement tickets on Stub Hub when H came in to find out why the cats were freaking out (because of the shredder, of course). I showed him my handiwork, he dutifully made impressed noises, and then I gently broached the topic of not being able to find the tickets. He looked at me like I was a complete moron and said that he told me that he was going to put them in his night stand and I acknowledged that as a good idea. Oh, really? Was I sober or paying attention during this conversation?
He went upstairs and got the tickets while I did deep-breathing exercises to calm down. The tickets are now in their special home and all is right with the world. At least my desk is finally cleaned out! I wonder what else I could lose? I'm sure that there's something that I need desperately in the garage.
My desk in my office is a train wreck. I have always had these grand ideas for organization, but I'm not a naturally organized person so it was nothing more than a pipe dream. But, the one thing that I did keep on top of was the Travel file. H and I go to lots of live concerts, so the Travel file is where we keep all of the tickets and other pertinent information.
H is going to Florida in June to see Pearl Jam in Fort Lauderdale and Tampa (I'm going to pass, thank you very much). The tickets came a few weeks ago. I remember clearly seeing them on the center island in the kitchen and then they vanished. I thought that I had probably put them in the Travel file, but I Couldn't Find Them. So, being the nutjob that I am, I started to panic. I realized after a few days that the best way to look for them was to finally take the time to organize the drawers and files and pray to God that the tickets were in there. So, on Sunday morning, I got the big garbage can, extra bags, and the shredder, and went through every document in the drawers. Boy, are they beautiful now.
As you probably already guessed, there was no sign of the tickets.
I had just finished the project, and was about to start looking for replacement tickets on Stub Hub when H came in to find out why the cats were freaking out (because of the shredder, of course). I showed him my handiwork, he dutifully made impressed noises, and then I gently broached the topic of not being able to find the tickets. He looked at me like I was a complete moron and said that he told me that he was going to put them in his night stand and I acknowledged that as a good idea. Oh, really? Was I sober or paying attention during this conversation?
He went upstairs and got the tickets while I did deep-breathing exercises to calm down. The tickets are now in their special home and all is right with the world. At least my desk is finally cleaned out! I wonder what else I could lose? I'm sure that there's something that I need desperately in the garage.
This is going to keep me awake, I know it
There is something insanely hot about John King from CNN messing around with his voting district touch-screen. I'm trying hard not to think impure thoughts. I should never have turned the TV on because I have to get up early tomorrow.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Utter destruction... and me in my bra
A few months ago, our closet imploded. We had lived in the house for just over 3 years at that point, and the shelves in the closet were typical crappy wire shelves stuck into the drywall. When we moved in, we shoved everything that we were too lazy to find a place for into the closet, and there it stayed. My blood pressure shot up just walking in to it. One Sunday afternoon, I heard a huge "WHOOOOOMP" and tried to open the door to no avail. Approximately 11 feet of wire shelves, packed to the gills with entirely too many clothes that don't fit and sweaters that are too warm for Tennessee hit the floor. Large chunks of drywall came out with them. The shelves were twisted beyond recognition.
So, what did I do? Me, who at one time wanted to be an ER doc because I think well on my feet? I melted down. Not just an "oh, mother fucker" meltdown, but a weeping and snarling and refusing to let H anywhere near me to help clean the pathetic mess up. My meltdown was fueled by the fact that H was about to go to church imminently. He offered to stay to help sort it all out (and, to his credit and my eternal gratitude, did stay) but I wanted him to be out of my house and my sight and not come back for a very long time until I figured it all out.
It goes without saying that I was off my meds at this point. No job + no desire to go to doctor + general feelings of "okay, just let me die now" = lunatic.
It took us about an hour to get all of the debris out of the closet and (somewhat) organized on the bed in one of the spare bedrooms. It took days to be able to speak to each other again.
Eventually, we went to Lowe's and bought new shelves. H had expressed doubt from the beginning, but I was determined that we would be able to put them up and that they would be just as strong and marvelous, if not more so, than the originals. I put them up when he was at work one day, and showed off my labors like a 5-year-old bringing home artwork for Mommy. He shook his head and humored me. We probably spent about $100.
Ever since then, I have held my breath every time that I walked into the closet. I knew that it was a matter of time before the tsunami hit again, but I had no idea that it would be so soon. This is where it gets weird, though. I keep my pajamas in my dresser, which is outside of the closet. Tonight, for whatever reason, I chose to change into my pajamas IN the closet, putting my dirty clothes directly into the hamper. I was able to get the bottoms on without incident, but all hell broke loose once I got my shirt off. One of the two shelves collapsed, and I screamed for help (wearing my bra and pajama bottoms). H came running, expecting bloodshed at the least, and was not at all surprised to see most of his clothes dangling by one or two drywall screws.
We put the clothes on the bed in the spare bedroom yet again, and then H vanished into the media room. I am sure that he was expecting another full meltdown. I went downstairs, poured myself a glass of wine, and started researching shelving units on line. All of the options suck.
So, what did I do? Me, who at one time wanted to be an ER doc because I think well on my feet? I melted down. Not just an "oh, mother fucker" meltdown, but a weeping and snarling and refusing to let H anywhere near me to help clean the pathetic mess up. My meltdown was fueled by the fact that H was about to go to church imminently. He offered to stay to help sort it all out (and, to his credit and my eternal gratitude, did stay) but I wanted him to be out of my house and my sight and not come back for a very long time until I figured it all out.
It goes without saying that I was off my meds at this point. No job + no desire to go to doctor + general feelings of "okay, just let me die now" = lunatic.
It took us about an hour to get all of the debris out of the closet and (somewhat) organized on the bed in one of the spare bedrooms. It took days to be able to speak to each other again.
Eventually, we went to Lowe's and bought new shelves. H had expressed doubt from the beginning, but I was determined that we would be able to put them up and that they would be just as strong and marvelous, if not more so, than the originals. I put them up when he was at work one day, and showed off my labors like a 5-year-old bringing home artwork for Mommy. He shook his head and humored me. We probably spent about $100.
Ever since then, I have held my breath every time that I walked into the closet. I knew that it was a matter of time before the tsunami hit again, but I had no idea that it would be so soon. This is where it gets weird, though. I keep my pajamas in my dresser, which is outside of the closet. Tonight, for whatever reason, I chose to change into my pajamas IN the closet, putting my dirty clothes directly into the hamper. I was able to get the bottoms on without incident, but all hell broke loose once I got my shirt off. One of the two shelves collapsed, and I screamed for help (wearing my bra and pajama bottoms). H came running, expecting bloodshed at the least, and was not at all surprised to see most of his clothes dangling by one or two drywall screws.
We put the clothes on the bed in the spare bedroom yet again, and then H vanished into the media room. I am sure that he was expecting another full meltdown. I went downstairs, poured myself a glass of wine, and started researching shelving units on line. All of the options suck.
- We can buy more stupid wire shelves and count the minutes until they collapse.
- We can buy some shelving units at Lowe's that we would have to assemble ourselves and would cost us probably $1000 by the time that we got everything that we needed.
- We can call in the professionals.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Eight Belles
Rest in peace, beautiful girl. What a horrific end to such an elegant race.
I am really upset by this. Even more upsetting is that we hear every day about people that violently all over the world and that rarely bothers me as much as this did. What is wrong with us that we are so desensitized by the death of humans? Is it that animals are innocent, and somehow humans deserve it? Or that there are so many horrible human deaths that we can't keep up with them?
Added on Tuesday the 6th:
The death count in Myanmar is over 200,000 from the cyclone over the weekend and they still won't cover it on the local news. Quelle surprise. But, they're still talking about the horse.
I am really upset by this. Even more upsetting is that we hear every day about people that violently all over the world and that rarely bothers me as much as this did. What is wrong with us that we are so desensitized by the death of humans? Is it that animals are innocent, and somehow humans deserve it? Or that there are so many horrible human deaths that we can't keep up with them?
Added on Tuesday the 6th:
The death count in Myanmar is over 200,000 from the cyclone over the weekend and they still won't cover it on the local news. Quelle surprise. But, they're still talking about the horse.
Oh, okay
I took the Lexapro. Of course, it took me this long to get the guts to do it (it's after midnight now). I hope that it doesn't keep me awake, although there probably wouldn't be enough in my system to make a difference.
Now, all I have to do is come up with a good reason why I'm taking it without a prescription when I go in to see my doctor on the 29th. She's a very nice person, so hopefully, she won't yell too much. It would serve me right, though.
Now, all I have to do is come up with a good reason why I'm taking it without a prescription when I go in to see my doctor on the 29th. She's a very nice person, so hopefully, she won't yell too much. It would serve me right, though.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Lexapro
I've tried Wellbutrin, and it turned me into a psycho bitch. H didn't tell me that until after I had taken it for months. Go figure. I've tried Effexor, and it makes me nauseous and doesn't allow me to sleep. I've been off of it for a few months now, because my prescription ran out and I haven't been able to bear the thought of going into the doctor. Vicious circle, yes.
H has about a month's worth of Lexapro samples that he thinks that I should start taking, but I'm nervous about starting it without talking to Dr. D first. I don't see her until May 29. He may kill me before then, though.
I thought that I was doing better, but I must not be if he brought it up tonight. Normally, he never brings it up. It probably doesn't help that I've had 4 glasses of wine tonight.
H has about a month's worth of Lexapro samples that he thinks that I should start taking, but I'm nervous about starting it without talking to Dr. D first. I don't see her until May 29. He may kill me before then, though.
I thought that I was doing better, but I must not be if he brought it up tonight. Normally, he never brings it up. It probably doesn't help that I've had 4 glasses of wine tonight.
Enough already
I am sick to death of all of the political coverage. I used to watch CNN pretty much all day every day (which is really too much, granted) but I can't stand to have it on for more than about 10 minutes now. They keep saying the same stupid things about the same stupid candidates, making up scandals as they go along. And, they keep finding new talking heads on a weekly basis. I don't know how the journalists on the "Best Political Team in Television" can stand it.
I've already made up my mind. Give me an absentee ballot and shut up already. Unless, of course, Mr. Obama does something horrendous between now and then. Given the track record of the "current occupant," as Garrison Keillor calls him, I can't see how anything could be worse.
I've already made up my mind. Give me an absentee ballot and shut up already. Unless, of course, Mr. Obama does something horrendous between now and then. Given the track record of the "current occupant," as Garrison Keillor calls him, I can't see how anything could be worse.
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