Maybe Next Time I'll Try the Argyle Socks

Let's play the "WHAT STUPID THING HAS JULIA SAID AGAIN?" game!

I'll let y'all take a guess why this:

ended up squarely in this:

Yet again. Putting my foot into my mouth has almost become routine, unfortunately.

Yeah. It's happening so often that I'm getting used to the taste of socks: "Hm. Yes, the Smartwool socks are tasty but I definitely think that there's no beating the white cotton Adidas low-cut crew socks. Definitely."

It's a long story. I'll tell it tomorrow since saying dopey things is very exhausting and I'd better head to bed. But if you see Terese, ask her. She knows all about it and I'm thinking I'll be hearing about this one for a very, very long time.....

She's Hard to Control

Yummy delicious cool refreshing delightful milkshakes can be found at a Burgerville near you. If you live near me. 

My good friends Karen, Sarah, and Paul have been here visiting for the last few days. How time flies when I'm having fun.....

Karen and I have known each other since I was 18. She knows me all too well, but I recently realized that she hasn't been introduced to my Bratty Inner Child Julia before. Hard to believe, but true. I don't know how this has happened after all these years.

But she has since had the opportunity to meet her. And how.

So we -- meaning John and daughter one and I and Karen and family were all buzzing around in our SUV. We were debating what to eat for dinner.  Karen said, "We were planning on baking a frozen lasagna, right?"

Yes, I had indeed purchased said lasagna for that evening's dinner but....as I thought more about what other options we might have and as we passed several of my favorite restaurants.....waiting two hours for frozen noodles just didn't do it for me. At all. I voiced my reservations to the gang in the car, who were far less enthusiastic about my idea than I would have liked.

John said, "Let's just go home. I can wait for dinner."

Karen said, "Yes, let's. We can have some fruit or some kind of healthy snack to tide us over."

Pffffftttt.

Healthy snack? Are you kidding me?

I wanted to be healthy and reasonable, really, I did. But BICJ was just too.....much.....for.....me....to handle. I was hungry. And cranky. What my girls call HANGRY -- a combination of hungry and angry. Before I knew it, the sensible person that I am was muscled aside and my bratty inner child said,
"Yuk! Healthy snack? No way! Burgerville! I want BURGERVILLE! WAH! and pounded on the SUV window.

Actually, she shrieked. Seriously.

Burgerville makes the best. burgers. and milkshakes. in. the. whole. world. and. universe. and infinity....and I was craving a peppermint chocolate shake.

Because I really needed more sugar after all the fudge and cookies and soda and Bailey's and toffee and  divinity and caramels and almond bark and peanut brittle. Obviously.

John just stoically kept driving and said nothing. He's seen this transformation in me all too many times, but Karen tried to placate me. "OK. How about we go home and have a nice salad and lasagna and THEN make some kind of dessert? Like an ice cream sundae? Doesn't that sound good? Hm?"

Poor dear. I don't think she's heard BICJ snarl before. I hope she wasn't too traumatized but at the point I really didn't care. John just sighed and kept driving. The other four people in the car finally negotiated very carefully with me, with the result that we would indeed eat at a restaurant --- just not my burger joint. However, the main concession was that daughter number one and Sarah WALKED to the nearest Burgerville to procure my milkshake.

Bliss.

After I had my milkshake in hand and BICJ stuffed away in my subconscious somewhere, I smiled angelically at our group, who by this time were sitting as far away from me in the restaurant as they could.

"Isn't this fun?"

They all smiled back warily. I'm sure they were counting their blessings that they had escaped the incident without BICJ inflicting actual physical violence.

Pffft. Violence? From me? Nah. All they needed to know was this: GIVE THE GIRL WHAT SHE WANTS.

And nobody gets hurt.

Autoimmune Disease and Pregnancy

Image found on Wikipedia. 

One of the common misconceptions floating around out in the medical world is that patients dealing with autoimmune disease are exclusively female and post-menopausal. As many of my readers would be quick to point out; this is not true. With earlier detection and increased awareness, more younger men and women are being diagnosed with Sjogren's syndrome, among other autoimmune diseases.

I read a recent article in Medscape News authored by Oier Ateka-Barrutia and Catherine Nelson-Piercy, published in
Int J Clin Rheumatol. 2012;7(5):541-558 and entitled Management of Rheumatologic Diseases in Pregnancy with interest, glad that one autoimmune problem of young sjoggies was given much needed focus:

Rheumatic diseases include a variety of chronic multisystem disorders with a high percentage of autoimmune conditions. Many of these diseases affect women of child-bearing age, and so pregnancy poses an important challenge for doctors looking after these women. Knowledge about medication safety, the effect of pregnancy on such diseases, and vice versa, together with preconception counseling and multidisciplinary team care, are basic pillars needed to provide the best obstetric and medical care to these women.

Each autoimmune disease presents it's own set of challenges during pregnancy, but in Sjogren's syndrome, a very small percentage of sjoggie mothers and infants have particular issues; read this found on Arthritis Today:

As with other arthritis-related conditions, Sjögren’s syndrome occasionally presents it own set of problems during pregnancy. Experts advise that women with Sjögren’s syndrome who are planning to get pregnant as well as those who have suffered miscarriages be tested for antibodies including antiphospholipid antibodies, lupus anticoagulant and anticardiolipin antibodies and anti-SS-A.     In rare cases, antiphospholipid antibodies, lupus anticoagulant, anticardiolipin antibodies have been associated with recurrent miscarriages; anti-SS-A has been associated with congenital heart block, an abnormality of the rate or rhythm of the fetal or infant heart..........Robert I. Fox, MD, a rheumatologist at Scripps Memorial Hospital in La Jolla, Calif., stresses that is rare. “It is important to reassure patients that the vast majority of women with Sjögren’s syndrome have babies with no congenital abnormalities,” he says. (Bolding mine).

Talk to your rheumatologist about this important issue if you are of childbearing age.

It's a Puzzle

No time for blogging today -- there's Christmas puzzles to complete and peanut brittle just begging to be eaten. See y'all tomorrow.

Nanoparticle Treatment of Autoimmune Disease

You can buy your very own poly(lactide-co-glycolide) suture material here. But I wouldn't recommend it. 

Thanks to Gill for sending this link to an interesting article by  Maggie Fox, NBC News: New Approach Could Treat MS, Other Autoimmune Diseases.

The article uses very understandable language to explain a new potential therapy which "educates" our destructive T cells with the result that they don't destroy healthy normal cells. You can refresh your memory about autoimmunity, T cells, and why a T cell on an incorrect mission is dangerous here.

I've read about nanoparticle treatment in other scientific articles in which the language was so complex that it left me scratching my head in puzzlement. Ms. Fox has done a great job in making this very difficult concept much simpler. Here's a small section of this article, but please read it in it's entirety, here.

     Researchers trying to find a way to treat multiple sclerosis think they’ve come up with an approach that could not only help patients with MS, but those with a range of so-called autoimmune diseases, from type-1 diabetes to psoriasis, and perhaps even food allergies.
So far it’s only worked in mice, but it has worked especially well. And while mice are different from humans in many ways, their immune systems are quite similar.
     “If this works, it is going to be absolutely fantastic,” said Bill Heetderks, who directs outside research at the National Institute of Biomedical Imaging and Bioengineering, part of the National Institutes of Health, which helped pay for the research. “Even if it doesn’t work, it’s going to be another step down the road.”

Read on to find out what role absorbable sutures have to play in this intriguing therapy. Interesting. VERY interesting.

It's a Dog's Life

Lulu: Well. What chaos around our house lately. Maggie, Skippy, Frodo, and I have tried our best to keep all of the people and babies and presents rounded up and accounted for.

A schnauzer's work is never done.

Sanctus

I want to wish everyone a truly happy holiday, Christmas, and New Year! By sharing your stories, support, and compassion you all are an ongoing gift to me -- every single day.

Thank you.

All Four

Let the festivities begin! We're finally burning all four Advent candles.....

........and it's snowing.

Ahhhh.

Just Tell the Truth

Oh, dear. Judging from some of my comments from yesterday's post, I believe I may have given y'all the mistaken impression that it was me that actually made all those cookies, wrapped those gifts, decorated the Christmas tree, and posed Frodo the corgi under the tree.

Since it's Christmas and all, well, almost -- the advent wreath has only one more candle to light.....

.....in the spirit of the goodness of the season I have to confess.

Yes. All these pictures were indeed taken at my house. That is my Christmas tree and that is a table-full of yummy frosted and decorated cookies. I am responsible for all that good stuff.

But I didn't do it. Here's how I (and my houseful of family and guests) made it all happen:

Yes. My index finger is completely and totally exhausted this morning after all the pointing and delegating it did the other day. Like this:

Julia: I want y'all to make some cookies!

Julia: Decorate the tree. AND wrap up a zillion gifts -- which many of you have purchased -- and arrange them attractively under said tree. Frodo! Get your doggie hinder in here and look cute!

Julia: Hey! There's dishes to be done!

Julia: Don't forget the laundry. Get on it, people.

I suppose I should also post a picture of my big butt sitting on a kitchen stool directing traffic as well, but I'm SO NOT going to do that. My honesty does have it's limits.

I think I'm going to need to ice my finger. Oh, and maybe splint it. It's had a real workout.

A Busy Day

No time for blogging today. I'm preoccupied with things like these:

Is Santa for Real?

I was digging through a bureau in our foyer in which I keep family mementos: kids' report cards, artwork, etc. It's hopelessly jumbled so I was up to my elbows in memorabilia, when I found this:

My goodness. I hadn't thought of this in at least twenty years, not kidding. A zillion years ago, our little local paper put out a call for readers' holiday memories, and this was my contribution. In the spirit of the holiday, I thought I'd use it as today's post. Indulge me in a quick trip down memory lane....

     "Santa doesn't visit boys and girls who don't believe in him," said my dad as he put down his coffee cup with a twinkle in his eye.
     It was the snowiest Christmas Eve day that I can recall, and Santa's existence was at the top of our family's breakfast conversation.
     "Well, of course there's a Santa!" firmly stated my brother Bucko. Joe and Jackie volunteered that they had seen genuine reindeer tracks just yesterday. Sue and my mom just smiled at each other.
     At age 9, I wasn't so sure about Santa. In spite of the unexplainable details concerning his enormous task I decided to stifle my skepticism, however. It would never do to antagonize Santa on Christmas Eve.
     After breakfast, there was no more time for speculation.
     "We don't celebrate Christmas in a messy house!" said a cheerful Mom caught up in the holiday spirit. We tackled our chores with very uncharacteristic vigor.
     That evening, the huge drifts of snow made it a difficult trip to the barn to choose Rudolph's traditional bale of hay. So Dad helped us lug the fragrant bale to the porch and carefully snipped the twine. As the warm light spilled out of the house around us, the snowstorm was unrelenting, and I saw a worried look pass between my parents. Our driveway was one long, impassable wall of white.
     Our farmhouse was large, but not equipped with enough nooks and crannies to successfully hide all the makings for the wonderful Christmas mornings that we children were blessed with each year. And my parents were concerned about their ability to make a late night run to my grandfather's house to collect our gifts in the snow.
     Nevertheless, we kids went to bed excited. My siblings weren't particularly concerned about the blizzard. Santa had a sleigh, didn't he? I reluctantly gave in to sleep that night to the puzzling noise of our snowmobile. I sleepily wondered what possessed Dad to be taking late night rides in a blizzard.
     Christmas morning that year was breathtaking. The sun shone brilliantly on the huge drifts that covered our farm. As we raced from our bedrooms to dive into another glorious pile of wrappings, ribbons and boxes, I noticed Dad's barn jacket still dripping melted snow from it's hook. And as I looked at Mom and Dad sleepily smiling and oohing and aahing at each opened gift, suddenly I knew.
     Of course Santa exists! He wears a denim barn coat and rides an Evinrude snowmobile.
     I never doubted in him for an instant, and knew I never would again. 

Workin' Farmer Style

 Oh. My. Gosh.

I love this video. It so reminds me of my family's farms! Although we're not related, these guys are almost carbon copies of my handsome and talented nephews in the Midwest.

The only major difference is that my family raises only grass-fed angus beef; no corn fed lots on their farm. However, there's no mistaking the same miles of wide open spaces, herds of cattle, big green John Deere tractors, and mostly lots of hard 24/7 WORK.

Ahhh. The good life.

Check out the dance on the flatbed trailer......my fave.

Autoimmunity and Menopause

I wonder if this play includes a song about the estrogen/autoimmunity connection? Hm. Interesting.  

Take some time to read this incredibly interesting but lengthy article, entitled Effects of Menopause on Autoimmune Diseases and authored by Miranda A Farage, Kenneth W Miller, Howard I Maibach. Published  in Expert Review of Obstetrics and Gynecology. 2012;7(6):557-571.

It can be read here, on Medscape for Nurses.

The immune system undergoes constant physiological changes over the human lifespan. [7] The infant has no immunity of its own at birth; immune function develops quickly over the first few years and then builds to a complete maturation by puberty. [8] In fertile women, immunity fluctuates cyclically in sync with the menstrual cycle; dramatic changes occur during pregnancy as well as the postpartum period.......
Estrogen, with receptors in nearly every tissue of the body, is a principal regulator of homeostasis in the female body, with the hormonal tides characteristic of a woman's reproductive years having demonstrable effects on nearly every body system. The sudden and dramatic removal of estrogen from the female body, particularly in the form of estradiol, is a veritable tsunami with significant and largely negative effects on many body tissues, including a loss of skin integrity and tone, poorer muscle tone (affecting heart, vasculature, eye and bladder function; declining brain function; and deterioration in bone strength). Estrogen levels, and particularly the estrogen withdrawal of menopause, undeniably impact autoimmunity in women as well. (Bolding mine. Continue reading here).

Articles such as these evoke in me a very mixed response. On one hand, I'm gratified to see how much is already known about autoimmunity and to understand more about our disease process. But on the other? The inevitable conclusion of seemingly all studies and writings on the subject of autoimmune disease -- that more research is needed -- makes me want to just pound my head against the nearest wall:

The role of menopause, with its attendant depletion of estrogen, in autoimmune disease should be an important part of that research effort, given the drastic dichotomy in incidence of autoimmune disease in women and men and the longer expected female lifespan. A better understanding of the interplay between genetic, hormonal and environmental factors that lead to autoimmunity in menopause is necessary to provide appropriate prevention and/or treatment options for older patients, preserving health into old age and providing an increased quality of life throughout those additional years. (Bolding mine).

Yes, I would agree. More research is needed, and desperately.

Don't Give Maggie Rawhide Chews Before Bedtime

I swore that I would never turn into one of those empty nesters that replaces their children with dogs. Famous last words...

Last night as I was getting ready for bed, Lulu and Maggie were romping around on our comforter, as usual. Ever since Maggie was a pup, her nighttime routine has had to include her throwing herself on our bed, wiggling around on her back with mouth wide open, and making the strangest snorting sounds.

So she was doing the whole upside down crocodile imitation thing again, when she stopped abruptly, righted herself, and launched a big pile of doggie barf squarely in the center of our bedspread.

Then happily resumed her wiggling and snorting routine.

Ewwww. John and I scrambled to clean it up. After I had tossed our comforter into the washing machine, I came back upstairs to see that John had replaced our quilt with another, and was tucked in surrounded by schnauzers.

"Well," I said. "I'm glad that poor Maggie didn't throw up in her kennel bed. Just think of her being in there with that yukky stuff all night."

John stared over the top of his book at me.

And, at that moment, I realized yet again how pathetic I've  become.

.::facepalm::.

"Did I actually just say how glad I am that Mags barfed on OUR bed instead of hers? Please tell me I didn't say that..."

But, I did. What have I become??

Slow and Steady Wins the Race

One of my biggest energy savers of all: ONLINE SHOPPING with FREE SHIPPING and GREAT SALES. Oh, and um.....my daughters? In the event that you read this? Look into my eyes: *flash* You didn't see the Zappos box. It was never there. Nuh uh. 

I really, REALLY don't want to count my chickens before they're hatched.....or should I say count my rituximab mice before they've finished running their maze.....but I'm hanging in there this holiday season. By hanging in there, I mean that I haven't had a major crash and burn. I haven't missed one holiday event that I wanted to attend. I haven't needed a daily nap, in spite of having several small projects on my to-do list every day.

I HAVE tried to be like the tortoise and move through this holiday season in a slow and steady pace. I have been careful and stingy with my energy reserves. I have had some migraines, but they have been successfully controlled with imitrex. I have successfully finished all of my gift shopping. I have rolled out divinity, fudge, cranberry/white chocolate bark, homemade caramels, and a monster fruitcake from my very own kitchen.

Gosh. I haven't enjoyed December this much in years.

The hardest thing for me in all this is to try to keep the governor on the ol' Julia engine. Meaning that like an engine that is mechanically limited as to how fast it can make a car go, I've set some limits as to how fast or furious I can go. And this is a difficult thing. Even though I'm loving having some energy, it's a bittersweet feeling. Greedy soul that I am, I want MORE. I want so much zip that I will feel like the person that I was ten or fifteen years ago. Even with my reduced fatigue levels, I still haven't come close to approaching my previous energy levels, especially around the holidays. Although I'm chugging along slow and steady this month, I can't say that I could characterize myself as even being close to zipping. Anywhere.

So a reality check is greatly needed if I am to continue this very positive experience. It's important that I recognize that the ability to maintain slow and steady is a real gift. There have been holidays in the recent past that went by in a blur simply because I threw caution to the wind and overstepped my limits big time, and so slept most of them away. Or was so dazed and brain-fogged that I couldn't participate. I should embrace this wonderful methodical plodding pace that has provided me with so much this year.

I think I need to include this plea in my nighttime prayers: Lord, keep me realistic. Keep me on target for managing my energy. Keep me sane. And most importantly -- please keep my Bratty Inner Child Julia locked up in a closet somewhere until after January 1st.

I think BICJ is on Santa's naughty list, anyway....

Taste This

My mom is the world's best fudge maker. Actually, she's the universe's best fudge maker. Her recipe is incredibly simple and contains just cream, butter, cocoa powder, corn syrup, white and brown sugars, and vanilla. I've tried for my entire adult life to replicate her fudge even with her standing at my side guiding me, and I Just. Can't. Make. Her. Fudge.

Our family simply can't celebrate Christmas without fudge. So I gave up on Mom's recipe and went in search of another that produced a confection tasty enough to replace Mom's, because it was unthinkable that I would actually buy some. In 1981, a co-worker shared her family fudge recipe with me. Mmmmmm. It's not as good as Mom's but has been a sure-fire success all these years. I could count on JoAnn's fudge to be perfect every time.Yes! JoAnn saves Christmas! And there was much holiday rejoicing! Perfect fudge every Christmas!

Until Friday.

I was watching the terrible news unfold about the Connecticut shooting. I kept the news channels up on my television and even though I had muted the sound, I just couldn't seem to drag my attention away from this heart-wrenching scene. As I continued to watch, my sadness and anxiety grew, and I tried to think of something that I could do that would make me feel.......better......or productive.....or anything different than what I was experiencing at the time.

My most effective coping mechanisms always begin by tying an apron around my waist and reaching for my recipe box. Which is exactly what I did since I could work in the kitchen and still keep an eye on the television in the family room. So I decided to make this year's batch of fudge. It would be an easy thing to do, I thought. And fool-proof. I gathered all the ingredients and set to work.

And -- y'all saw this coming, I just know it -- of course I goofed up. The recipe begins by combining sugar and a can of condensed milk and boiling it for ten minutes. Which I did -- but also threw a pound of butter in for good measure.

I boiled the butter. A real no-no in this particular candy recipe. The butter is supposed to be added to the cooked sugar mixture after it's boiled. So it can get all melty and creamy and......

.::Blink::.

Ok. I'm back from Candyland....

I looked at the pan full of ingredients and decided I just couldn't waste all of that stuff, so I let the mixture boil. After which I added the other stuff, and put it in the mixer, and spread it in a pan and refrigerated it. I anxiously waited for it to firm up, then popped a sample into my mouth.

Hm. It wasn't terrible. As a matter of fact, it was pretty good. The texture was different: not velvety and creamy like the original, just a bit grainy, and undeniably yummy. But not MY fudge. Dang. I had enough ingredients for another batch, so I paid careful attention and whipped out another pan-full. This one was splendidly perfect. Mmmmm. John came by and asked why I had made two big pans of fudge. I told him that the first batch was a mistake, so he devoured a piece of the flawed fudge and looked at me as if I were crazy.

"It's great. I think you're crazy."

Whatever.

When Terese and Greg came by later, I forcibly made them eat fudge samples from each batch (which wasn't hard to do) and asked them to decide if they could tell the difference. They could -- but they couldn't choose which batch actually was better. Several samples later, they STILL couldn't decide. I sent them home with a big plateful.

Here's Mom's recipe for fudge for those brave enough to try it:
Lucille's Chocolate Fudge

• 2C white sugar
• 1C brown sugar
• 3 T butter
• 1/4 c white corn syrup (use the mixing spoon with the little rose on the handle and fill it about 3/4 of the way)
• 1C cream
• 3 and 1/2 Tablespoons cocoa powder

Combine in a heavy pan and bring to a rolling boil. When the bubbles change from frothy little ones to bigger more defined ones, remove from heat.  (I am SO NOT kidding about her directions here. I tried using a candy thermometer -- which my mom has never owned -- and I think it's somewhere around the soft ball stage.)
Set the pan in cold water to cool. Then beat vigorously by hand and when the candy becomes thick and looks satiny, add:

• chopped nuts
• 1 tsp. vanilla

Spread in wax-paper lined 9x13 inch pan. Cool.
I double-dog dare anyone out there to successfully make this fudge.

Here's my recipe:
JoAnne's Chocolate Fudge

• 4 and 1/2 cups white sugar
• 1 - 13 ounce can evaporated whole milk
• 1 pound salted butter
• 18 ounces good quality semi-sweet chocolate chips (a bag and a half)
• 1 Tablespoon vanilla
• 1 and 1/2 cups chopped nuts

Place sugar and milk in a heavy saucepan. Bring to rolling boil and let boil for exactly ten minutes. Remove from heat and add butter and chocolate chips, stir until melted. Beat with a mixer on medium speed until cooled and thick, about ten minutes. Fold in vanilla and nuts. Pour into wax paper lined large jelly roll pan.

The morale of this rambling story? Guess there isn't one, except that I probably should look for other coping devices that don't include melting an entire pound of butter.

There Are No Words

Yesterday's post was entitled, "I Don't Understand" and was somewhat silly.

But today's post should have been titled I DON'T UNDERSTAND and should be an outpouring of my feelings regarding this most recent shooting of innocent children in Connecticut, which followed the killing of two innocent shoppers in a mall here in Portland.

But I'm stunned and shocked. I don't understand. And I, for once, don't know what to say.

I Don't Understand.

Oh. My. Gosh. I almost can't tolerate the cuteness found here....

Guys. I really wish that my brain were capable of producing an exquisitely worded and fantastically useful autoimmune themed blog post, but today I just can't. I think all this Christmas cheer going around is to blame.

So. Instead, I'll just have to write about those dopey ideas that pop into whatever remaining cerebral cells are hanging around in my cranium.

For example: John and I were attending a lecture at our church the other night. I'm sorry to admit that my thoughts were wandering until the pastor said something about Jesus separating the sheep from the goats in the end times. For any normal person, this would probably encourage them to think about living one's life to be prepared for eternity, but I have to be honest here.

No, what I was wondering is what Jesus had against GOATS? I love goats. Why should goats be the examples of bad behavior?!

Goats are cute. Their milk is very good for us, and makes wonderful soap. The baby kids boing around in an absolutely irresistible way that makes me want to jump the petting zoo fence and snatch up one of those cute furry things. Baby goats put me into a squeeeeeeeeeeeeee overload mode. I have pictures of goats. And little figurines of goats. I have pestered John for YEARS about owning a teeny little pygmy goat. I can't imagine why he hasn't given me one for my birthday. Or Christmas.

I like goats almost as much as I like flamingos and crows but less than I love my schnauzers.

So I was left wondering in church why sheep are considered the good animals? Yeah, they're fluffy and kind of cute, and of course their wool is useful, but for Pete's sake. What makes them a superior animal over a darling little GOAT?

And what does my preference for goats over sheep say about my character?

I simply don't get it. Does anyone know? Anyone?

As if she were reading my mind, today reader and fellow goat-appreciator Stephanie send me a link to this awesome video. Enjoy.

In the Know

Sjogren's World is a great resource. 

Yesterday, I received this question from a reader:

I thought I read in one of your blogs that you were interested in what your readers, "have" do you want to know, really?

Well, sure I do, for a variety of reasons.

Mostly my intent isn't a morbid interest in finding out what readers "have"; but instead offering sjoggies an empathetic ear to express themselves in terms of their symptoms and react to the difficulties of this disease. Because in all honesty, there aren't a lot of places to do that; at your your mother-in-law's dinner table, for example. Or over a stack of papers at your workplace. Or sitting in Starbucks sipping a skinny peppermint mocha with your friends.

It's important for anyone with a chronic illness to understand what is happening to their body, but above and beyond the information found in Anatomy and Physiology 101, it's also important to understand how others are coping with all the changes that accompany their disease. The need to connect with others is especially important for those of us who deal with a disease that is frequently unknown or misunderstood even by health professionals. When one sjoggie comments that she "crashed", or that he is in a "flare", we know what that means.

Unfortunately.

When another person with Sjogren's syndrome tells me, "I know how you feel!" it's especially meaningful. Because that person does know how I feel and that is a valuable and rare thing.

When I was first diagnosed, I was certain that since I -- a health professional -- had never heard of Sjogren's syndrome, that nobody else had either. I felt isolated and scared and overwhelmed. It was such a relief to find other sjoggies and compare notes, receive great information, and enjoy tremendous support from those people that could authentically do so.

So, yes. I want to hear from you. Please comment whenever you can to contribute to the discussions that are initiated here or at any other sites where sjoggies gather. Check my sidebar for links to other sjoggie blogs, forums, organizations, and to my email.

So. What DO you have? I really want to know.

Better Than Prednisone

Here's your smile for the day. Check this out: rescued doggies DRIVING a modified Mini. Maggie and Lulu want to point out that one of these moving mutts is a (giant) Schnauzer!

Careening canines are far more interesting than autoimmunity, wouldn't you agree? 

Let's Not Pull the Migraine Trigger

Do you have issues with migraine headaches? You know, those dreadful life-altering head-splitting stomach-turning things?

And if you do, have you identified what triggers them?

I've come to the reluctant conclusion that I had better start paying more attention to my migraines. I went looking for my Imitrex over the weekend to nip a headache in the bud and panicked because the box was empty. Luckily I had my last pill stashed in my purse. Whew.

The fact that I needed a refill on this medication gave me pause. My first migraine occurred just a month before my daughter's wedding and at a very low energy point in my rituximab cycle, so I chalked it up to stress and fatigue. But I can't blame my most recent headaches on either. And the fact that I used up one whole prescription made me realize that although I certainly don't have frequent migraines, it appears that I do have them often enough that it's time for me to take them seriously.

Bummer.

According to the Mayo Clinic,  common migraine headache triggers include:

• Hormonal changes in women. Fluctuations in estrogen seem to trigger headaches in many women with known migraines. Women with a history of migraines often report headaches immediately before or during their periods, when they have a major drop in estrogen. Others have an increased tendency to develop migraines during pregnancy or menopause. Hormonal medications — such as oral contraceptives and hormone replacement therapy — also may worsen migraines, though some women find it's beneficial to take them.
• Foods. Some migraines appear to be triggered by certain foods. Common offenders include alcohol, especially beer and red wine; aged cheeses; chocolate; aspartame; overuse of caffeine; monosodium glutamate — a key ingredient in some Asian foods; salty foods; and processed foods. Skipping meals or fasting also can trigger migraine attacks.
• Stress. Stress at work or home can instigate migraines.
• Sensory stimuli. Bright lights and sun glare can induce migraines, as can loud sounds. Unusual smells — including pleasant scents, such as perfume, and unpleasant odors, such as paint thinner and secondhand smoke — can also trigger migraines.
• Changes in wake-sleep pattern. Either missing sleep or getting too much sleep may serve as a trigger for migraines in some individuals, as can jet lag.
• Physical factors. Intense physical exertion, including sexual activity, may provoke migraines.
• Changes in the environment. A change of weather or barometric pressure can prompt a migraine.
• Medications. Certain medications can aggravate migraines, especially oral contraceptives and vasodilators, such as nitroglycerin.

How on EARTH can you whittle down this lengthy list to identify your own particular triggers?

John suggested that I keep a very precise diary of each day including every type of food that I have eaten (zoiks!), hours of sleep, stress, colors of my socks......you get the idea. And, according to him, after enough data has been collected, we can sort through it all and see if anything appears more consistently on the days that I have the headaches.

This seems logical and a really good idea. But. This also seems to require a great deal of work. Bleah. And even if I do identify some likely triggers, many are simply beyond my control. Studies have linked Sjogren's syndrome and other autoimmune disease to increased migraine prevalence, read the conclusion of this NIH study, found here:

It might be argued that the increased prevalence of migraine found in the patients with primary SS and scleroderma in this survey is a non-specific result of the stress and emotional upheavals associated with the disease.The possibility remains, however, that migraine in primary SS and scleroderma may in part be due to the underlying disease process as in the case of SLE. In view of the findings of this study patients with primary SS and scleroderma should be asked specifically about headaches and, in particular, migrainous headaches as they may be additional disabilities for these patients.The reward of such specific inquiries lies in the availability of specific antimigrainous treatment, which these patients might otherwise be denied.
(SS: Sjogren's syndrome. Bolding mine.)

So. Does the link between Sjogren's syndrome and migraines give me the excuse to ignore any of the other potential triggers, such as salty foods, caffeine, and chocolate in particular?

BICJ: Well, duh. My migraines happen because of Sjogren's syndrome. Doesn't matter if I eat this huge chocolate bar and wash it down with lots of caffeinated coffee which causes me to go for two days without sleep while playing Bejeweled and end up with a monster headache. Nah. 

It appears that my Bratty Inner Child Julia may be wrong, as usual. Even though some of the precipitating factors in a migraine's appearance can't be altered, careful attention to other factors may decrease the headache's severity. In one of my previous posts in which I wah wah wah about my headaches, a reader posted this excellent comment:

My own migraine pattern is undoubtedly due to hormonal fluctuations. I usually have one around day two of my cycle( lasting 24-36 hours) and over the passed two years often will get one day 12-14 (right as I would be ovulating). they are exacerbated by poor sleep, stress and too much caffeine and sugar. During these peak times I have to be diligent or I am in nauseating agony. 

Hm. Her hormonal cycle is her trigger BUT she knows that poor sleep, stress and too much caffeine and sugar will only make her headache much worse.

I guess if I want to avoid these acutely painful episodes, which I DO, I'd better become more proactive in this headache thing. It's time to grab a pencil and notebook and play detective.

Post Weekend Nappage

I'm having an energy catch-up day today. The weekend was delightful, and included a caroling competition for charities in downtown Seattle: 

See my daughter in that huge crowd directing her choir? Me neither. 

Followed by watching Baby Boy devour his first birthday cupcake.

Nicely done, big guy. Smooch. 

Ahh. The stuff of sweet dreams for my nap.

I'd Be Wearing the Apron

You can buy your very own print of Jack Vettriano's 'The Singing Butler' here. 

I'll bet that you've seen a copy of this picture before. I know that I've seen it in craft stores, on poster websites, and in frame shops everywhere. I zipped through a store the other day and caught sight of this thing, which brought to mind a conversation that I had last December. I was window shopping with a gal who had never seen it before.

"Ooooh," she breathed. "Isn't that just the most romantic setting you've ever seen?"

I looked at the print, then back to her in disbelief. "Are you kidding me? I think it's terrible!"

She was surprised and flashed me a look of pure annoyance. "What's not to like? A beautiful couple dancing on the beach? Honestly, Jul, I just don't get you sometimes!"

"Well," I said. "I guess it depends on who you identify with in this picture. Personally, I don't see myself as the gorgeous woman in the red dress. I've always assumed that I would be the poor maid hanging onto her hat with one hand and the umbrella with another. And the wind blowing up her bloomers. And sand blowing in her eyes. And wondering when the HELL these two are going to come to their senses and head back inside so that she can get out of her wet and cold clothes, stick her feet into a basin of nice hot water, and put her flannel jammies on. While sipping a steaming hot rum-spiked toddy. But noooooo.......no, she's stuck out in the freezing wind and rain listening to the poor butler singing for these two goofballs. And he's hanging onto his hankie for dear life because his nose is running out there in the cold, and can't believe that they asked him to sing a stupid song because they're not listening to him anyway."

She looked at me as if I had grown three heads. "Are you serious?"

"Well, yeah. I am. Whenever I see that thing it makes me feel crabby. It just seems unfair somehow. Kind of like when you were telling me about the string quartet that your relatives hired last year to serenade the them on Christmas Eve as they were opening their gifts."

She and her family live in an entirely different financial universe than I do. Seriously.

At this point in the conversation, this gal was royally miffed. "What's wrong with having MUSIC on CHRISTMAS EVE, for Pete's sake?"

"Music is great. I just don't think it's........nice......or something.....that the musicians were stuck working on Christmas Eve instead of being home with their own families."

She gave me an icy glare in silence.

"Um. Sorry. Don't mean to make it sound judgmental or anything. I'm sure that your uncle reimbursed them and gave them a nice tip..... some musicians count on holiday gigs to help pay the bills, I know.......and probably some of them don't celebrate Christmas anyway......"

I took a deep breath and tried to stop my runaway blabbing.

"But back to the picture. Would YOU want to be the maid or the butler? Would you? Huh?"

She sniffed. "I don't know. But I STILL think it's lovely." And she left in a huff.

Oh, brother. Way to go, Julia. Open mouth wide, stick size 10's directly in mouth. Great. Just great. Just because some people listen to live string quartets on Christmas Eve in their own living rooms while WE have the annual reading of "Cheesehead Night Before Christmas" doesn't make either of us better than the other.

Betcha I was crossed off her Christmas card list this year, I thought.

So, what do y'all think? I wonder what my interpretation of this picture says about me? Or about my friend? (Um. Ex-friend, I'll bet.) How do you feel when you see this picture?

Time Out

What a great fun yesterday. Galavanting, caroling, yakking.....

It's tired this old girl out. Catching some ZZzzzzzzs -- see y'all tomorrow. With picture goodness.

A Must See.....

.......if you're ever in Portland. A combination coffee shop and plumbing supply. Brilliant.

Sweet Reading

Yes. It's made of gingerbread and found here.  

News stories with photos like this one never fail to snag my attention, for a couple of reasons. The first being that it's focus is food, and we all know what THAT means for BICJ over here especially during the yummy holiday season.

The second is that it showcases gingerbread houses. Many, many pants sizes and years ago, my friend Dianne and I baked and decorated a zillion cute little gingerbread houses and sold them at a few craft sales.

 I'm the tall dopey one on the right. Can you say BAGS UNDER MY EYES?! On the other hand, Di, you look maahhhvelous. Dahlink.

I still use the same recipe after thirty some years. 

It was great fun and I still get out my old recipe and make up a house or two every year. It just isn't Christmas without a gingerbread house sitting on my kitchen table.

But back to the news story, which is this, found here, on FoodBeast:

.....The creations were entered for a Canada’s National Gingerbread Showcase 2012 that took place at the Inn at Laurel Point in Victoria, B.C.
     The venue collaborated with Habitat for Humanity to raise money for the charity and invited bakers all around the country to partake in the baking extravaganza. The competition requires that submissions be made entirely of edible ingredients and are featured on Laurel Point’s Facebook page. 

My favorite of the 2012 entries is this one, but then I'm a sucker for the classic gingerbread house style.

You can vote for your favorite on Laurel Point's facebook page.