One of a kind!

• Natural feathers & wood beads
• Brilliant blue Czech glass bead
• Swarovski Crystal accents
• Copper-plated wire wrapping & accents
• 20.75" brown suede cord with copper-plated toggle clasp
• Focal dimensions: 4" long x 1.5" wide
• Total hanging length: 15"

$35.00 USD
+$4.95 shipping within the US

Additional images:

Want to purchase multiple items? Contact me before ordering, and you can save on shipping!

One of a kind!

• Natural scallop shell focal (coated with matte acrylic medium for stability)
• Turquoise-dyed mother of pearl stick beads
• Natural red coral beads
• Swarovski Crystal accents
• Silver-plated chains and charms
• Silver-plated 18" chain with lobster claw clasp and extender
• Focal dimensions: 2.75" long x 2.5" wide
• Total hanging length: 11.75"

$65.00 USD
+$4.95 shipping within the US

Additional images:

Want to purchase multiple items? Contact me before ordering, and you can save on shipping!

I am so very sad to let you all know that Isis left us sometime early this morning. As you probably remember, she has been suffering with ovarian cysts (and the resulting digestive issues) for the last 3 years or so. Over the past few months, she also developed some tumors, which I believe are what finally overcame her. She would have been 6 years old this December.

She was a shining example of guinea pig-dom. She was the original Guinea Goddess. While it breaks our hearts to finally have to say goodbye to her, we know that she's no longer in pain or distress. I always used to call her my "angel pig," and now she finally is one.

She grew to be a stubborn, moody thing as the years went by, and I think she overcame her various health issues by sheer will alone: it was her way or the highway! I used to joke that the Rainbow Bridge didn't want her, and Hell was afraid she'd take over. Through all her bossiness, cage-chewing, and demands for MORE FOOD!!, she always loved to cuddle with me and was as content as could be in my arms. She loved to give kisses, stretching out her nose to touch someone as soon as she was close enough.

I'm going to miss her very, very much. The sun is a little dimmer now that she's gone.

We gave Mimi and Mona a chance to say goodbye. Mona wasn't quite sure what to do, but Mimi laid down next to Isis and tried to wake her up. It was heartbreaking, but I'm glad that she passed at home and they were able to see her one last time.

I'm not sure when I'll stop crying — probably not for a long while yet. It grieves me to let her go, but it's my firm belief that she's found herself a big carrot patch somewhere over the Rainbow Bridge and is furiously chomping away at them.

Today we're driving out to take in day 1 of PAX East 2010. It promises to be a good time, and we're having a sort of tweet-up with a few folks we know on Twitter. Woo!

With the increase in level cap in Sentinel's Fate, I thought it might be worthwhile to purchase a tradeskill XP potion from the Station Marketplace. I wanted to rush my main, a Sage, from 80 to 90 as quickly as possible.

There are a few potion "strengths" available for purchase, differing in the amount of time each one lasts as well as the percentage bonus given when you consume it. The one I went with gave me a 55% XP bonus for 2 hours, and it cost 2500 Station Cash — the equivalent of $25.00.

Spending so much on a potion made me not want to waste a single drop of it. As long as my main was logged in, she was going to be chained to that crafting station! This sounds like exactly what I was hoping for, except for one thing: Vitality.

At those levels, 100% vitality will only last a couple of levels. With my vitality bonus and the XP potion, I burned through them within about 30 minutes. Oh hey, look! I have this, which will refill my vitality once a week! That's another couple of levels down, woohoo! Wow, I still have a whole HOUR left on my potion!

…But the vitality is gone, with no way to refill it except to not play that character for a few days. Continuing to try and level with no vitality — XP potion or no — isn't exactly my idea of a good time.

And that's how I spent the last few weeks. I spent almost the entire time on my secondary characters (a Tailor and a Carpenter), running the daily tradeskill missions for fun and profit.

Here comes the best part:

Not only have those two alts gained just as many tradeskill levels as my main, but they've earned a boatload of plat AND earned max faction with their respective crafting groups. Buying that potion and doing my best to take full advantage of its benefits has left my main WEEKS behind in faction and coin — not to mention $25.00 lighter.

My advice? Don't purchase the Marketplace potions unless you have money — and time — to burn.

…Because Erollisi Day is coming to Norrath again! From February 4 through 16, you can participate in special quests and earn tokens to spend on lovey-dovey goodies for you and your home.

You can learn more about this year's festivities at EQ2Players.com, and get some in-depth details about the crafting side of things over at EQ2 Traders.

This was posted on the PatientsLikeMe forums, and I'd love to share it with you guys here. The poster wanted to add a note that her fibromyalgia is considered mild compared to many others.

I could have written this; it sounds so much like my own experiences and symptoms. I work from home, and though I don't commute, I do have many of the same issues when it comes to travel in general and daily business dealings.

I thought I would go through my day and try to help a healthy person understand what it would be like to live with fibromyalgia.

At 5am, the alarm goes off. I wake up feeling like I did heavy yardwork yesterday… and the day before that, too. My brain is slow to come out of sleep, and rebels against waking. I slept 8 hours last night, but I'm as tired as if I slept 5 hours. Without sleep medicines, I feel like I've slept 2 or 3 hours, if at all, really, because I kinda had this half-consciousness all night long. Thank goodness for my muscle relaxant because otherwise, the leg cramps would keep me awake for certain.

I roll out of bed. My body is so stiff. I'm 30 years old, but I shuffle. The shower… the shower is the best part of my entire day. The hot water eases that "hit by a truck" feeling, helps me move better. I use lots of water, because it's my only relief without my pain meds. I get out of the shower and take my pain meds. It will take them about 45minutes to an hour before I'm really feeling them. I'll take an hour and a half to get ready to get out the door, because my body is fighting me most of the way.

The commute: Thankfully, I'm still working. It's a miracle. You'll see why. So, I sit on the trolley and listen to music and try to relax my body. The metal seats and vibration make my back tense up, which means pain on top of pain. Sometimes I just try to meditate a bit. If I overwork myself like that fellow over there on his laptop or that guy thumbing through his briefcase, then I won't have any energy left for work. Conserve energy and make it through the day.

I get into the office. Somebody is in a hurry, they want an answer now! My brain tries to produce something useful. Something comes out of my mouth. Gosh, I hope that was right. No… not really. I back-track. Oh crap, they're looking at me like I'm an idiot. Again. Yet, they have no idea how much energy they just took out of my reserves. Wait, I was doing something I had to get done… Shoot, I lost my train of thought and I'm feeling kinda drained. And trying not to be emotional over looking like an idiot… It happens so many times, that look on people's faces… It's hard not to start believing it.

I'm doing my best.

My back aches, my wrist is trying to spasm. The mail comes in… time to sort the mail. No, time to drop the mail. Pick it up… sort this here… there… that's a real job for my hands. They don't want to work right. To other people, I might look slow. They don't know my forearms are spasming and I'm fighting against my own body. The task of sorting checks, copying them and turning them over and stamping them — it's like a marathon for my spasmed arms and hands.

By lunch, I'm relieved. It has gotten to feel like I've been walking around with a dufflebag slung around my neck… my neck is so stiff from the "imaginary weight" and my lower back is screaming. I wish the office had a quiet place I could go lay down, but the office is actually still very "public" for me. Only in my own home can I truly relax. Time for a pain pill to get me through the rest of the day. By about 2pm, I'm switching back and forth mindlessly. My attention span is so short. Probably because the demands of the day are catching up to me, despite my meds.

Most of my day is spent sitting at my desk. Getting up to get ready to prepare the conference room for a meeting is something I have to work up to. The thought of carrying reams of paper down the hall to the workroom makes me want to cry. If I have to do it, I pick a time when I expect I'll be able to let my body recover… the pain keeps my mind from focusing, and I feel the fatigue sweeping over me from that extra exertion. It doesn't feel like a victory because my body deals out punishment. It's keeping score.

By quitting time, I want to cry with the relief of having another day under my belt. My back was just screaming, my head had a familiar daily headache — a dull ache that threatens to turn into a roar. I massage my neck a bit to get the tension out on the way home. Vibrating metal seats on the trolley again. Well, at least it's not the bus where you feel every THUMP as if someone just booted you in the back. I'm too tired to think.

I come home. I pull something out of the freezer and put it in the microwave. I want to cook, really, and I want to do a little housework and maybe exercise… my apartment is shameful. But I have to rest. The computer or TV… something pretty passive. I'd really like to be able to go pick up some groceries. Not tonight. Well, tomorrow I may have cereal for dinner but at least I won't starve. I'm too tired to even think about the dull aches, the spasms… they're drowned into the background. My time is now my own and I'm exhausted. At 7:30, I take my sleep medications. I have to be home, because then I'll need to wind down so that they take effect. Walking around too much or getting into an exciting TV program means they're not going to work as well. At 8pm, I generally crawl into bed, and I try to convince myself to do something low-key. By 9pm, I should be asleep. If I fall asleep at 10pm, that means my next day is going to be 100 times worse. Every single hour of sleep makes that much of a difference.

I follow this same pattern every weekday. On weekends, I don't have all that time to myself. I have to rest up, because 40hours is a long, demanding week. I can plan one major trip to get groceries, but that's at the exclusion of just about everything else I would *LIKE* to do. Most of the time, anyhow. There are rare times when I feel a bit better. There are times I just push my limits and pay dearly later. On Sunday morning, I dearly want to go to church but my body rebels and I roll over in bed. I get up, try to get dressed… and end up in bed again. Sigh, why fight? Monday starts the same drudgery all over again and I need to rest.

If you think this is depressing to listen to… just remember that your body isn't feeling like you're being stabbed, your back isn't giving you unrelenting pain, your 8 hours of rest doesn't feel like half that, you're not trying to convince everyone that you're still an intelligent and worthwhile person and that you can "keep up" — you probably ride a bus without giving it much thought… certainly not wincing every time it hits a bump. A headache probably doesn't visit you like a dear friend, every single day… sometimes all day long. Your hands listen to what you tell them to do most of the time, and your body doesn't act like your own worst enemy. That's fibromyalgia. Every day that I am able to get out of bed, it is an accomplishment. Every day I make it to my job and home again is a miracle, and I don't know how long it will last because two years ago, I never IMAGINED I'd be hearing myself say that. It's gotten worse… and I'm only 30.

I know a lot of folks have been following @pasmith's updates on me during the last week. I know I'm always curious about what's going on with my online friends, so I'm going to share the whole story with you guys, since I know some of you want to know, but would never ask.

Sometime around New Year's Day, my right calf became painful and swollen. I've been diagnosed with fibromyalgia, so I just figured it was one more thing swelling and hurting…no big deal. The issue resolved on its own after a few days, and I went about life as normal.

Tuesday night, as I was heading to bed, I suddenly experienced incredible pain in my chest and shortness of breath. It came on so suddenly and was so intense that I was genuinely scared for my life. I sat on the edge of the bed for a minute, panting and clutching my chest, waiting for it to pass. I was eventually able to get enough breath to finish getting ready for bed, but the chest pain persisted.

I have to say, I played it off as "nothing." I have enough wrong with me, dammit! I didn't need one more thing added to the list. Besides, Peter was still laid up with gout and I wasn't about to drive myself anywhere, lightheaded as I was. I was in full ostrich mode.

I dealt with the chest pain over the next day and a half, and it began to taper off. The shortness of breath persisted, and it remained at a pretty constant level after the initial attack. Walking across the room meant I'd be gasping for air by the time I got there. Peter wanted me to make an appointment with my PCP, and I hedged. I didn't call her until the next day, the 7th, and her office immediately told me to go to the ER.

I was so sure it was nothing that I took the grocery list and a shopping bag with me, intending to pick up a few things on my way home.

The first thing they did once I got back into the wards was to give me a CT scan. After the doctor reviewed it, she came to me with an expression on her face that said she was about to tell me someone died. I'm pretty sure she thought it was me.

She proceeded to tell me that I had blood clots in my lungs (pulmonary embolism), and that she was amazed that I looked as good as I did for what she saw on that scan. She said that I would need to be admitted to the hospital for a few days for treatment and observation. Talk about unexpected! They started me on an IV anticoagulant. They wanted to transfer me to the University hospital in Worcester, though, since they didn't have anyone on staff who could perform an emergency procedure if I were to throw another clot.

I stayed in the ER at the University hospital for about 24 hours. They did an ultrasound of my legs, during which they found the origin of the clot (deep-vein thrombosis, or DVT…you've heard it talked about on TV, I'm sure). An echo of my heart showed that it hadn't been affected, which was great news. They finally had a room open up upstairs on my second night there, and I was whisked away from the chaos and clutter of the ER.

Long story just a little shorter, I spent another 48 hours in the hospital room, and they came to draw blood and take my vitals every few hours. During that time, my shortness of breath and chest pain eased and my blood oxygen level returned to its normal range. I was taught how to give myself anticoagulant injections in my belly (which totally sucks ass) and I'm on a varying dose of another anticoag, this time a pill, until the nurses at the Anticoagulation Clinic are satisfied with my bloodwork, and then I can stop the injections. They say I may need to be on the pill for as long as a year, and during that time I'm going to have to be extra careful around things that could bruise or cut me.

In the meantime, I have to undergo some medication changes to get off some drugs that might cause clotting. I foresee some suckage because of that in the future, but I'll take it. By all accounts, I'm lucky to be here. The type of PE that I had — a large "saddle" embolus, which is a clot that settles in the area where the pulmonary artery splits off to go to the left and right lungs — is usually fatal, often within minutes of the onset of symptoms.

The moral of the story, kids, is that you should practice what you preach: You would want your loved one to go to the ER if they experienced chest pain and shortness of breath, right? No matter how much you think or hope that "it's nothing," it might not be. Get medical help right away and be sure to describe any unusual symptoms you may have had in the previous days or weeks.

In an ideal world, I would have called my doctor when my leg was swollen. They could have discovered the clot then and given me anticoags or "clot-busters" to prevent it from causing any serious damage. In a non-ideal but certainly smarter world, I would have called 911 when I had the chest pain and shortness of breath.

It is much, much better to be safe than sorry.

The gift I want to give myself in 2010 is that of self-control. I want to eat less, spend less, and stop plucking so damned much. I want to move about more, create more, and feel better.

I guess you could say I enjoy things that stimulate my senses; when shopping, I'm always touching things, loving the textures of fabrics and materials. I love eating good food…it's hard to stop because I enjoy the flavor so much. I like looking at shiny, colorful, or bright things that catch and hold my eye. I almost always have scented candles or incense burning because I love the different aromas.

All this makes it easy to overindulge when I should be thinking about the bigger picture. I want a second helping of pasta because it turned out so well. I want to order another box full of beads because they're new and shiny or have such pretty colors. It's not that I need to stop enjoying these things; I just need to know when to stop.

I have more than enough materials to make countless bits of jewelry…all I have to do is sit down and commit some of my ideas to the materials I have on-hand. I don't need to cook less-tasty food…I need to learn to listen to my stomach when it tells me I'm sated rather than listen to my tongue and get another helping.

There's more to be said, but that's for another post at another time. Suffice to say that this year will be a year of moderation!

I've decided that I'm going to try to blog a little every day. I don't write nearly enough, and I think it'll be good for me to put the virtual pen to virtual paper.

I've been down on the Gulf Coast visiting my parents for a few days now. The flight down was ok — except for that combat landing into Memphis, ugh — and the airport wifi gets a big thumbs-up from me. It's really nice being able to tweet, email, and even do a little gaming while waiting for my flights.

Of course, I wouldn't be able to do any of that if Peter hasn't gotten me this kick-ass laptop for the holidays/my birthday. /dance