For my mother who had to miss the show...

Is it just me, or did Oprah take fashion advice from Big Tex?

Today, was the much anticipated taping of Oprah on the Chevy Stage. I’ve heard rumors that people (mostly women) SLEPT at Fair Park last night to secure the closest standing room possible to Oprah. Granted, very little crime happens IN the park, but I still wouldn’t want to participate in a slumber party on the grounds. Especially, in light of last night’s weather. Nothing spells F-U-N like a little lightening and heavy rain.

Because of the anticipated attendance, my boss had everyone arrive by 7:30 AM so we could open the museum early. I got here just before 7:15 – mainly so I could navigate the parking situation. Harpo Productions seized control over the VIP lot where I normally park during the fair on Saturday, so I really didn’t know what to expect. And, despite the fact that I was here before sunrise, I STILL had to park parallel to the swine pavilion – a good half mile from the museum thanks to the less-than-convenient location of the nearest admission gate. Nothing quite like a brisk walk before dawn in South Dallas. Grumble, grumble.

Anyway, Oprah drew a crowd – just like we all knew she would. True, it could have been a tad larger, but the weather was a little iffy and the fog a bit thick. If I had a choice, it would have been a perfect morning to sleep in and/or curl up with a good book. Although, hanging around watching Oprah with all my coworkers wasn’t a bad second.

Here are my pictures and a video I threw together. Enjoy:

Mounted officers...

Waiting for Oprah's taping to begin...

The Chevy Stage...

Oprah finally appeared and the crowd went wild...

Food competition (shhhhhh...it was a tie)

Small children were more interested in the horses than seeing Oprah...

Martina McBride played several songs...

The end of the taping right before the Dallas Cowboys
Cheerleaders hit the stage with a dance routine
(Thank goodness the Cowboys won last night!!)

Just incase the pictures weren't enough...

Gran's take on fried butter...

Trevor’s grandmother proclaimed the fried butter to be:

“The best thing she has ever had.”

She is 89 years old, so this is quite the endorsement.

Call me crazy, but I'll still be avoiding anything called "fried" and "butter". Sorry Gran!

Pumpkin Run...

If only my mom had also been holding a wine bottle...

Yesterday, involved three things:

1. The Pumpkin Run. Trevor and I ran the 5K.


2. My car failing inspection (something involving my gas cap).


3. A party that literally had the Secret Service at the gate.

It was also chilly (for Dallas), which officially started the hooded sweatshirt season. At least for me.

Yum. Fall.

Bring on Halloween!

The case of the not-so-missing ring...

Trevor called me in a panic this morning because he looked down and realized he wasn’t wearing his wedding ring. He rarely takes the thing off – even when he sleeps – so the missing ring was cause for concern.

Luckily, I knew exactly where it was: on MY bedside table.

Last night, our bed broke. No, no – get your head OUT of the gutter. It wasn’t anything like that. It was much more reminiscent of THIS STORY, except it happened in the middle of the night for apparently no reason.

Obviously, the thump and violently shifting mattress woke us both up, and we climbed out of bed and proceeded to fix the problem. This usually involves me lifting the mattress while Trevor replaces the fallen slat. He took off his ring so it wouldn’t get scratched and placed it on my bedside table. After the slat was back in place, we climbed into bed and forgot all about the ring. Again, nothing dirty. The bed just happened to break right before last night’s thunderstorm arrived. Our house is on a hill next to a lake, and I swear storms are more intense at our new address. Lightening repeatedly strikes the water, and the resulting thunder is deafening. Until the leading edge passes, I find sleep to be near impossible - especially with Gypsy Kitty nervously shaking next to my side of the bed. Poor thing hates thunder.

Anyway, in all the middle-of-the-night drama, Trevor just plain forgot to put the ring back on his finger.

Of course, I’d be lying if I told you that his panic over the missing ring didn’t make me smile. Nothing sinister. I just love that he likes wearing it so much.

Ah, newly wedded bliss! Feel free to gag now.

On the subject of my navel...

No, this is NOT a picture of my navel...

On Tuesday, after working out, my belly button started to hurt.

I didn’t think too much of it. That is, until it started to get worse. By Wednesday night, the pain was so bad that it woke me up when I rolled over on to my tummy in my sleep.

By Thursday, I was whining about it at work.

One of my coworkers, tired of my complaining, Googled “Belly Button Pain” and discovered that pain in the belly button could be a symptom of a much more serious problem. Literally anything from a Urinary Tract Infection to Appendicitis to Crohn’s Disease. I wasn’t too worried about it, but my coworker was, and convinced me to call my doctor and inquire about the strange pain in my navel.

The nurse at my doctor’s office wasn’t too concerned, but recommended that I come in anyway to have it checked out. Since I am a newlywed, she figured it was most likely a bladder infection and – for whatever reason – I was presenting with belly button pain instead of the more common symptoms like frequent urination or a burning sensation while peeing.

I arrived at the doctor’s office around 3:30 and saw the doctor a little before 4 PM. Urine tests quickly ruled out a UTI, and a swab culture of the inside of my navel eliminated infection. So, my doctor made me stand up, stuck her gloved finger into my navel and had me turn my head and cough.

NOTE: Having someone stick their finger in your belly button for any reason is a weird. Even if it is a medical professional.

My doctor’s diagnosis: An umbilical hernia.

That’s right. A part of my body that has served no functional purpose in over 29 years and two months may suddenly be herniated.

My doctor explained that it probably happened during my workout on Tuesday, and is relatively common in people who lift heavy weights and/or professional weightlifters. Now, granted, I am not a professional weightlifter, but I DO lift two to three times a week and have been told that I am strong (for a girl). I never knew a potentially herniated belly button could be a side effect of working out.

To confirm the diagnosis, she referred me to a friend of hers down the hall. As luck would have it, Doc. #2 could see me at 4:30 that afternoon.

Doc. #2 also did the turn-head-and-cough test with her finger stuck in my navel, and seconded my doctor’s ruling of an umbilical hernia. To confirm, however, she’d need to take a CAT scan of my abdomen. And – lucky me – an appointment for Friday morning at 9 AM had just opened up.

I decided not to take the appointment, though, for four reasons.

1. Everything was happening too fast. I had accepted the fact that I might have bladder infection, but not an umbilical hernia. Quite frankly, before yesterday I didn’t even know that a herniated belly button was possible.



2. I wanted to give my belly button the weekend to reconsider itself and the pain it was causing me. Because, really? An umbilical hernia?! I just couldn’t get my head around a part of body herniating that has done absolutely NOTHING functional for me in almost 30 years!



3. I don’t want an umbilical hernia. Correction: I don’t want to have to tell people that I HAVE an umbilical hernia. I've already been told that I have a somewhat bizarre list of medical issues, and an umbilical hernia would only go to support that theory.



4. I don’t like CAT scans.

So, basically, I am giving my belly button until Monday to feel better. If not, I’ll swallow my pride and get the test. Maybe. It may depend on the pain factor.

Stupid belly button…

The start of a bad day...

You know it is going to be a bad day when you toss a bag of dog poo into your alley trashcan, and manage to splash trash/poo water all over yourself.

I still don’t feel clean after a long, hot shower with much soap and scrubbing.

Ew.

It is funny how nothing and everything has changed…

The strangest thing about being married for one month and one day is that I have ONLY been married for one month and one day. Gone are the days when people asked how long Trevor and I had been dating (7 years, 12 weeks and 2 days at the time of saying “I do” or 6 years, 7 weeks and six days at the time of the engagement – depending, of course, on your perspective), and I was able to answer them in YEARS. Now, I am back to calculating our time together in days, weeks and – as of yesterday – months. Disclosing how long we dated prior to the wedding is no longer appropriate when asked, “How long have you been married?” That clock zeroed out 31 days ago.

Not that any of that matters, mind you. I just find it fascinating. Plus, it makes everything SEEM new again – even if it really isn’t. And, for the record, the best kind of new is the kind that is both comfortable and familiar. Does that make any sense? Probably not, but I think it is still pretty great anyway!

Time flies when you are having fun...

Trevor and Deals
Married One Month