H is for Half-Hearted Hostess.

(I hope I'm getting double and triple points on all those Hs!)

So, I always get excited when we are going to have people over. I make plans and find recipes and think about how fun it will all be.

It never goes according to plan. By the time the actual date come, I have worn myself out thinking about about everything I have to do. And I never have the right stuff. And I always end up thinking "What does it matter? Marines won't notice, anyway."

It's true. They never do. Take Easter, for example. I had a ton of food ready. My girls brought food. I was planning on feeding four hungry men, three women and a kid. There was a TON of food.

Do you know what I was left with after the guys were gone? Seventy-five percent of that food. They wouldn't even take a tupperware of leftovers. Matt said the guys were hung over. Stacee said she thought they had eaten before they got to our house. Either way, they are so not invited ever again.

To End.
You are not invited to my house if: You are hung over. You already ate. You expect something fancy. You expect my glasses to match. You expect anything I own to match. You do not want sweets or baked goods. You do not want to get things for yourself.

You are invited to my house if: You enjoy Jambalaya. You like to try new sweets. You love fresh bread (I'm working on this one). You like to talk about celebrities. You care more about the people you're with than what you are doing. You love leftovers.

Professional Administrative Assistant.

Not exactly what I planned to do with my life, but really, I don't think I could tell you that I DID plan to do anything with my life.

I am going to a three day class in June to earn a Professional Administrative Assistant Certification. This will look good on resumes when I get back to the U.S. And thus, my fate as a secretary is sealed.

Matt's Response to: I Want a Kindle.

"No, you can get real books like a normal person."



But I am undeterred. I'm going to keep working on it. I will have a Kindle by the time I turn 26. Bwah-ha-ha-ha.

G is for Grapes of Wrath, and Other Classics I've Never Read.

So, here's a confession: There are a lot, and I mean A LOT, of classic literature that I have never read. In high school, rather than get the basics, the "advanced level kids" (read: super nerds) were taught the more obscure literature. Kafka, Conrad, a painfully long section on Shakespearean sonnets. We never got Grapes of Wrath, The Great Gatsby or Great Expectations. Apparently, that kind of stuff was to be "leisure reading" for the super nerds. Riiight. I was doing only the work I had to, to get by and get out of high school.

Now, I am at a point in my life where I really feel a need to catch up on those things. Well, at the very least, I have 11 very lonely months coming up and I really want this.

Hope.

Transplants Help Type 1 Diabetics Skip Insulin

CHICAGO (Reuters) – People with type 1 diabetes who got stem cell transplants were able to go as long as four years without needing insulin treatments, U.S. researchers said on Tuesday.

They said the process, which involves injecting people with stem cells made from their bone marrow cells, appears to have a lasting effect.

The study involved patients with Type 1 diabetes, formerly called juvenile diabetes, which occurs when the immune system goes haywire and starts attacking itself, destroying insulin-producing cells in the pancreas needed to control blood sugar.

These patients typically need daily insulin therapy to control their diabetes.

Dr. Richard Burt of Northwestern University's Feinberg School of Medicine in Chicago and colleagues first reported on the short-term success of the procedure, known as autologous non-myeloablative hematopoietic stem-cell transplantation, in 2007 but have since looked at how long it persisted.

Writing in this week's Journal of the American Medical Association they said 20 of 23 patients "became insulin free -- 12 continuously and eight transiently -- for periods as long as four years." The transient group of eight had to restart insulin at reduced levels.

The patients ranged in age from 13 to 31.

To find out if the change was lasting the research team said they measured levels of C-peptides, which show how well the body is producing insulin. They found those levels increased "up to 24 months after transplantation and were maintained until at least 36 months," their report said.

Even in the group which had to restart insulin there was still a significant increase in C-peptide levels that lasted at least two years, the researchers said.

They said the procedure was able to induce "prolonged and significant increases of C-peptide levels" in the small group of patients who were taking little or no insulin.

"At the present time (it) remains the only treatment capable of reversing type 1 diabetes mellitus in humans," the team wrote.

"Randomized controlled trials and further biological studies are necessary to confirm the role of this treatment in changing the natural history of (the disease)," they added.

F is for Foreigner (not the band).

I, like I'm assuming most of you, had always lived in the U.S. And I'd always loved it. Everything was so easy. I could read signs. I could order without hand gestures. I could eat with a fork at a restaurant. I had no idea how easy it was.

Here in Japan, everything seems just a little bit more complicated. Not that I'm complaining... (Okay, maybe I'm complaining a little bit). Awkward transactions at the store are now awkward, not because I say silly, awkward things, but because I don't know how to say anything. Getting my car fixed (which I have had to do several times already) is not scary because I don't know anything about cars, but because I don't know what the mechanic is telling me about my car. Ordering fast food isn't embarrassing because I'm a little piggy, it's embarrassing because all I can say is "Beeguh Mac, arigato gozimas."

It's hard being a foreigner, harder than I thought it would be. I've been trying to learn a little more Japanese, trying to branch out a little bit, and trying to blend in. Good luck, right?

Easter Run Down.

Easter was not what I had expected. I had a lovely time with my good friends and I suppose that's what counts. I also have a fridge full, Full, FULL of leftovers. And no husband home this week to help clear it out. Let me know if you want some ham or mashed potatoes.

Easter.

I started thinking about Easter about two months ago. I asked my husband what he wanted to do. "Go to Church." Not having any of the single guys over. "No, we're just going to church." No ham? No eggs? "No. Why? We'll just go to church."

Fine. I resigned myself to a non-celebration, but I could not accept a lack of ham. I would check in about once a week, just to be sure. Not even a ham? "No. Church."

So, you can understand my frustration when, after coming home from the commissary (with a mini-ham) Matt tells me, "I invited some single guys over for Easter dinner." Oooh, for Pete's sake.

I am making as many baked goods as I can to show Matt he can invite people last minute, but he can't stop me from making cupcakes. And ham (I got two mini-hams).

E is for E! and Other Mental Garbage.

I blame it all on Hope.

My favorite college roommate had a predilection for spending hours a week in the tub with Star Magazine. And back in the days of "Are Brad and Angelina dating? OMGOMG, is she pregnant?! Oh man, that sucks for Jen..." it was easy to get sucked in to the whirlwind of celebrity gossip. I found myself sneaking her copies of InTouch into my room to devour and eventually copying her style of tub-time gossip mongering.

After getting married and moving on to my unemployed existence in Virginia, I would keep E! on during the day for "background noise" on those long, lonely days. I couldn't leave Shoppers or Target without a glossy in my hands (and I spent a lot of time at Shoppers and Target). I'd try to quit, but would always be lured in with more details about Anna Nicole, Britney, Jessica Simpson... People I never really, truthfully cared for.

Well, when we moved to Okinawa, it seemed as though the curse would be broken. By the time the mags hit the American stores here, the new was as stale as, well, a month old weekly. I missed the birth of Jamie Lynn's bundle of joy. How could I live with myself? How could I go on, so out of touch with the world of those starlets?

The answer: Celebitchy.com. Oh, and a subscription to InTouch.

Don't hate.

I've been waiting 20 years for this.

Bruer also announced that Bill Murray, Dan Aykroyd, Harold Ramis and Ernie Hudson will reunite to star in "Ghostbusters 3." Though the release date is still TBA, writers Lee Eisenberg and Gene Stupnitsky from "The Office" have been tapped to draft the script. One rumored story line is that the four original members will mentor a new generation of slime-spackled Ghostbusters.

Hollywood...Bets Big on Sequels

Tag, you're it.

Turns out this Saturday Work Day has been most productive. I went back and created tags for all of my posts. So, say you're reading an entry about David Cook and you think to yourself, "Wow, I would love to know what else Andrea has to say about this American Idol." At the top of the entry, you'll see a label and it will probably say David Cook. Click it and you will get a page of every entry I've made and tagged David Cook in. And now it will officially be really awkward if David Cook somehow finds this blog.

I'm still working on all the intricacies of this feature.

American Idol Theorizations.

So let me just get this all out in one post and I'll try not to mention it for the rest of the season.

No one is as good as David Cook. He was my first season's pick and my first season's winner. I adore him. If I met him, I would probably drool a little. Probably a lot. Let's just hope he never Googles his name to find obscure blogs that mention his name. Awkward. Moving on.

I like Anoop. I think I've mention that before. He dresses exactly like my husband. Before the Idols ogt the use of a stylist, I could go into Matt's closet and find nearly identical items to what Anoop wore each week. I am not joking, nor do I find it funny. We call him "Indian Matt," which I do find pretty funny.

I like Allison Iraheta. More than I liked Amanda Overmyer last season. I think Al will make it to top 5, barring some terrible song choice/terrible voice choice. Or another terrible wardrobe choice.

Matt Giraud, Kris Allen: same boat. Good enough, but not so much my style. Kris is cute and will probably have a record out in the next year.

Hmm... Who's left? Meh, I don't really care.

I hope David Cook will be back at the finale and postpones a couple more shows to September so I have a chance to go see him when I'm stateside again. And of course, keep his family in your prayers at this time.

EDIT: What I really meant to say about this is: Top Five - Gokey, Lambert, Lil, Kris and Allison.

Work on a Saturday Part 2.

On the first Saturday of the month, from 8 am to 5pm, you can find me at work. Why, you may ask, would a regular full time job worker like myself be at work on a Saturday? Well, let me tell you.

Being that I work at a child care center on a military base, once a month we offer free child care for kid's whose moms or dads are deployed. And no one ever shows up. So basically I come in for eight hours to take phone calls (who calls school day care on a Saturday?) and to prepare for the next week.

Really, I sit on my duff, e-mail back and forth with Crystal, and search desperately for the edge of the internet. I think I'm getting close.

Haiku.

I am back at work
Even without wisdom teeth
It is still no fun.

D is for Diabetes.

Well, the topic for this week was obvious.

It was five years ago on Monday that I was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. It was one of scariest days of my life, having no idea what I was in for. I can recall almost every moment of that week spent at the hospital. Each diabetes lesson, each visitor. Each comfort provided by the Great Healer.

Over the last five years, I have become more at peace with my condition. At times, I still hate my pancreas, but I know my limits. I know the disease. I try not to let my condition define who I am. Usually, I feel just like a normal person.

I am a normal person. (Thank you family and friends for all the support over the last five years.)