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Thursday, December 30, 2010

WHA HAPPEN?

I've never had a full-blown crush on Ashton or anything, but I have always considered him Eye Candy from time to time.  Consider it NO MORE!  Crush OVER!  And by the looks of things his wife might be trying to sabotage Ashton crushes the world over.  Friends don't let friends dress...well...gay!  Check it..

http://www.eonline.com/photos/gallery.jsp?galleryUUID=6#106142

I couldn't steal the pic, so I could only provide a link.  Well worth the click though.

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Out Of Words

Maybe it's the holidays.  Maybe it's living with a chatty toddler.  I'm not sure what it is but I am out of words.  I have multiple things I could blog on about but I can't seem to get myself to do so.  I'm posting this just 'cuz I didn't want December to feel left out!  HA!

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Trader who?

It is with great pride that I announce I am no longer a Trader Joe virgin! 

confetti falling and balloons dropping

For the past few years I have been invited on trips to and tasted many a snack from, and today I finally stepped foot in.

The adventure was quite overwhelming.  It's a small store full of food gimmicks, if you will.  Certainly you have your peripheral healthy foods like any grocer does; veggies, meat and dairy.  The ground beef and other meats seemed a tad "over packaged" unlike the fresh look you get at say, CUB FOODS where they plop a brick of burger on a pink sheet of Styrofoam and clumsily wrap it with Saran wrap so it appears as though they just finished grinding the cow on site.  TJ's uses very tight and sturdy sealing with labels that look as though they were crafted at scrap camp.  Although lovely to look at, I'm wondering how long the meat sat around waiting for all this fanciness to be assembled!

Speaking of cows, if you haven't seen the movie Temple Grandin, you should see it immediately.  Wonderful film!

Anyway, I then found the frozen isle which was somewhat of an appetizer circus.  They had it all.  Fun foods galore!  Goat cheese pastry pinwheels in my cart please.  Ooooh, salmon and spinach crepes!  What's this?  Swiss Gruyere flat bread with roasted onions?  Mmmmm.  Soooo glad we have an extra freezer in the basement!  Step aside venison chops and pizzas, Trader Joe's is movin' in.  Of course I didn't dare get too many of these fun foods and opted instead for items that my lovely man could enjoy as well, such as potato cakes and chicken verde burritos. (Save some for me please!).  Did I mention the candy cane ice cream?  It was a toss up between that and the pumpkin ice cream or mango sherbet.  Next time!

I was just about finished with my frozen gluttony when this obnoxious desire to flee came over me.  I wanted to abandon ship and run.  This was absurd!  I don't need this happy crap!  I'm not hosting any upcoming event anytime soon.  But I stayed with my cart and shamefully exited this isle of delight for more practical things, like cereal. 

I brought a few of the items to work.  The jalapeno cashews were VERY spicy, and I'm a spicy kinda gal but these left blisters.  The fresh cob salad was less than exciting and the lobster sushi tasted like a tuna salad sandwich wrap somehow.  I pray this isn't indicative of how my freezer goods at home will measure up! 

Lunch tomorrow..steamed Gyoza with gyoza dipping sauce!  Can't wait.  Actually, I'm hoping it all sucks.  I really do not want to ever go back to that store because there were sooooo many fun items I refused to even glance at that I'm afraid I'll cave.

Maybe I need a Trader Joe contraceptive...pronto!

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

The gift that keeps on giving

Nope.  Not talking about Herpes.  Check this out:


I assure you this is not a joke.  So pray tell...WHO and WHY?

Are you the person playing lawn games and don't want to set down your beer?  I imagine most lawn games require bending, jumping, and reaching.  So how is it this would be good for that?  Or maybe you are doing yard work?  Again, a lot of movement required.  Are you in construction and need both hands free at all times?  Not good to "drink and saw", much less hammer or climb a ladder.  I just don't get it.  Maybe you want to mow and drink?  If your lawn is sooo big you can't go the distance without a beer, then you should have a riding mower equiped with a cup holder.  Golfer?  I'm not one myself but I've seen people tee off and again, there is a lot of hip action in that swing!

So ya, I need help here.  Digame por favor...WHO and WHY?

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Can Someone Put A Hood On This Vent?

Inhale.  Exhale.  Inhale deeeeeeper....exhale louder.


This morning when I got home I couldn't park in the garage since my S.O.'s truck was in the way.  It shouldn't have mattered, but I felt aggravated for really stupid reasons.  We've been together 6 years now and have lived together a tad over 3 of those.  From the minute I moved in he has continually reassured me that I will someday be able to park in the garage.  "But I really don't need to park in the garage, really...I've never had a garage and don't need one now" I would say over and over.  But he insisted- especially now that we have this new car- that I park in the garage. 


Okay.  I will. 


I did, after all, give up my automatic starter that I OH SO CHERISHED in the winter and the hotter parts of summer.  Our garage is heated, so it would be nice to get into a warm car, with clear windows to boot!  So I have started parking in the garage. 


But this morning I couldn't so I parked in the front driveway.  I then sleep for roughly five, extremely interrupted hours and then get up to pick up Miss M from daycare and the minute I open the car door it begins beeping at me. 


Huh?


I try to start it and NO GO.  Huh?  Hmph? 


I take off the "key less" knob and try the auxiliary key to start it.  Nope.  Nada.  Grrrrrrrr.


Then I realize it's not in park.  The S.O. did not put it in park when he got back from dropping Miss M off at daycare.  Put it in Park..problem solved.  Zoom Zoom to daycare.


I get to daycare and pack up the kid, unknowingly with the wrong boots (Sorry "P").  We get home and the demands of Toddlerdome kick in immediately. 


I wanna (s)nack.  I wanna watch Dora.  I up. (She feels the need to constantly remind me that she is not napping).  I want my blankie.  I want my lamb.  I want juice.  I want chocolate milk.  I want trick-o-treat.  I want movie.  Then periodically she'll start whining or even crying cause she's trying to cover up with her blanket and failing, or trying to do something ridiculous and can't. 


So up and down I am as though I'm at Catholic mass waiting on my princess (yes, well aware it's my fault).  All I wanted was to have some coffee, check email and Facebook and slowly continue to WAKE THE FUCK UP!  Nope.  Not gonna happen.  So I try to clean and she follows me around wanting to help, which anyone with a three year old knows they don't help, they just slooooow you down significantly. 


I wanna push button.  I wanna pour soap.  I hold it for you?


NOOOOOO!  Then I try to sit again, threatening a nap if she doesn't quietly play by herself.  This backfires as she thinks it's funny and decides my legs need to be a slide and my back is turned into "play monkey bars".  Then she starts poking me.  Poke my belly..giggle.  Poke my face...giggle.  I'm losing it, although she doesn't know that.  I honestly want to scream "GET THE FUCK OFF ME" but I gently pick her off me and explain that mommy doesn't feel good and doesn't want to play right now.  Riiiiiiight.  Then more demands come.  I finally decide to get ready for work.  It's my only way out.  She won't follow me into the shower.


So the S.O. comes home and I make a comment about not being able to park in the garage and mention how he left my car in drive.  His response:


"I wish all I had to worry about all day was whether or not I would be able to park in the garage."


He said that at roughly 4:45pm today.  It's now after midnight and I'm still livid by that remark.  Because.. not only in that short few hours from waking up and getting our daughter have I had to constantly please her and take care of her needs while sacrificing mine (cause that's what being a mother is all about, right?) while also managing to do chores and hang up HIS clothes that have been in a folded "clean" pile on the dryer for about a week, but also I have come to work and had nothing but complete insanity in the first five hours of my shift.


My first patient arrives 2 hours late and when I go to call her name she's on the phone and ignores me.  I say it again, this time first and last and LOUDLY and she then gets off the phone.  I begin scanning her pregnant belly and ask it she knows the gender of the child to which she answers "it's a boy.  I really wanted another girl cause I have a boy and I don't know how I'm going to feed him cause they eat a lot".  After the test I call the doctor with results only to be bawled out for doing the wrong test, and accused of changing the exam order.  I won't even go into it, but basically this shitty OB doc ordered the wrong test and wanted someone else to take the blame.  Then I go back into my patients room to deliver the OB pics that she basically instructed me on how to take by saying things like "oh, that's a good one right there, can you print that?"  "Can you get another picture like that but with both eyes?"  "Oh, stop there and take that one".  Grrrrrr some more.  Anyway, her boyfriend is now seated in my scanning chair and scrolling through the images on the ultrasound machine like know how to operate it and everything!  WTF?  The woman then comments about playing with my 70,000 dollar machine.  Ummmm, more like a quarter of a mil!  He continues scrolling and requesting certain pictures he sees and I just can't handle either of them anymore.  He makes some comment about how I gave her a pic she was hoping she wouldn't get...I dunno...kill them?  Can I?


Meanwhile my coworker is getting swung at by a patient who got up off her cart and was swearing and wandering the halls.  Security finally escorted her back up to her room.  That was a lovely blow up.  It would be much appreciated if a nurse could tell us that the patient they are sending down to us is belligerent and violent and may need a "one on one"or restraints or sedation or in her case ALL THREE!


The night just continued that way.  My next patient wouldn't stop talking throughout the entire exam.  I was scanning the arteries in her neck, so this made for a crappy exam.  It also distracted me to the point where I started mislabeling shit and forgetting to delete mistakes etc.  She was so nice (for a change) that I didn't have the heart to ask her to stop talking!  Then another patient comes with her son who won't shut up.  I don't think people realize that I actually do need to concentrate on what I'm doing.  Then people start asking me "what's that?" on the screen and don't realize there are thousands of pixels of different shades of grey on my monitor and I have no idea what group of pixels in particular you are asking me to identify.  This woman's son wanted to know EVERYTHING.  They are told I can't give them results right?  Well they try to get creative by working around all that.  "So, if there was a clot, what would it look like?"  "So if the vein was blocked would you hear that noise?"  "So, how do you know there isn't a clot?"  Then you get all the basic questions "how long have you been doing this?" "where did you go to school?"  "how long was the schooling?"  "do you read the test?"  "will we get the results tonight?"  "will we talk to a doctor when we get to our room?"  ET CETERA fucking ET CETERA.


Another patient had his son with to interpret for him.  Little did I know the hospital had called an interpreter in for this patient.  She shows up long after the patient was gone and while I'm trying to finish up paper work on another patient she is requesting a thousand things. 


Do you have a phone?
Do you have a fax?
Can you sign this paper?
Can you fill this out?
Can I use your computer?


She's talking my ear off while I'm trying to get other shit done and I don't really care that she just got paged 15 minutes ago to come in for the patient who is long gone.  I don't care.  GO AWAY! 


Then a nurse calls from a floor to ask about an ultrasound I'm supposed to go up and do bedside.  The patients tube feeding was turned off at 5pm and she was told I would be up at 9:30 to do the test.  Nope.  Sorry.  I'm trying my best and I'd rather she be "npo" at least six hours.  She was told four.  Although that's our policy or standard for tube feedings, I'd rather it be six since it's late at night and people are VERY gassy at night just from breathing all day.


Then the S.O. calls to chat.  He vents about his day and then I try to vent about mine and everytime I start talking there is obnoxious background noise.  I'm already pissy.  I try to be calm.  First I hear a blow torch going which sounds like someone  handed the phone to a tornado.  I stop talking and wait for the noise to stop.  It does, I proceed only for the torch to start again.  "Geeeezus, what are you doing?" I ask.  "Trying to start the fire".  Okaaaaay.  Then that pesky interpreter comes back with more needs.  I tell him I have to go and call him back later.  When I do, he starts talking about stuff and I listen.  Then I try to start to vent again and when I do I hear this clammering, hammering sound in my ear.  OH MY GOD!  Are you kidding me?  "I think I have to let you go" I say.  "do you even understand why?" I ask.  "I guess sort of" he says which is basically saying YES to please me.  "I'm done now..I'm listening he says".  At this point I can't speak.  I want shit out of my night and it's everywhere I turn and I'm going to lose it.  "Do you wanna finish your story before you let me go?" he asks.  Then I get choked up.  I actually start to cry.  "No...I just have to hand up". 


Click. 


I pull myself together enough to go do this bedside exam.  The room is packed with IV's and the only way I can plug my machine in is by throwing cords over the head of the bed and dance around the room to search for a plug-in.  I can barely even get near the patient to scan her.  She's snoring (she's in SO MUCH PAIN) and she has a gigantic ostomy bag covering most of her abdomen, right where I'm supposed to do her ultrasound.  I finally manipulate the room so I can kinda get close to her torso.  It's an ugly exam.  I can't see shit for several reason.  She continues to snore.  I call it quits with the best I can do.  It's just par for the course of my evening.


So ya.  Parking in the garage is ALL I ever have to worry about.  No, my tool belt didn't break.  My nail gun didn't blow up and pieces of the siding weren't missing.  You're right.  I should just be thankful that I had another driveway to park in.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

I DIDN'T THINK IT WOULD HAPPEN TO ME

If I fart, I pee.
If I cough, I fart.
So I guess that means when I cough, I also pee?


Regardless, it's all so gross.  I've heard rumors a plenty of women having loss of bladder control after multiple (meaning 2 or more) children, but my multiple in the making is just that!  Technically, I've still only had one child!  Hopefully this is just a pregnancy thing.  It's alarming sometimes since I am prego, to feel that wetness "twain ma legs" cause I imagine it's the same feeling you get when you leak amniotic fluid.  Oh joy.  Kegels Kegels Kegels! The easiest do-them-while-you-sit-and-do-nothing exercise and I still can't remember to, or make myself do them.  What's that all about?  It's Kegels or an eventual bladder sling?  C'mon girl..get with the program.


Other random things I never thought would happen to me:

* I never thought I'd purchase Summer's Eve vaginal wipes for that PTA (Pits, Tits and Ass) shower my mother always warned me about.  But I've come to that point in my life where I have less time to pretty up by taking a long, hot shower with a full leg/pit shave (maybe even a yoo-hoo trim).  Don't vomit just yet...I do indeed keep clean and still shower, just not daily like I once did.  It doesn't help things that my hair actually looks better each day it goes unwashed.  Lucky me!  And did you know they now make Dry Shampoo in case your head tends to lean toward greasy after a day or two?  Who knew?  LOVE IT! 
* I never thought I'd be researching microderm abrasion treatments before turning 40.  Something wicked is happening to my skin.  When I smile, the creases don't subside.  My cheeks look sunburned and are actually peeling without any contact with the sun whatsoever.  I have brown spots attending the funerals of adult acne.  Crows feet.  Lines between my eyes from not wearing sunglasses, or possibly from my Lasik surgery starting to fail.  I'm considering spending a Benjamin on some designer hydrating formula that probably doesn't work.  I've already puchased a few wrinkle creams and moisturizers that got rave reviews on the Today Show, only to stash them away with other unsuccessful items such as my hemorrhoid cooling gel.  Yes, that would be another "I never".
* I never thought my body would stop wanting sex.  My mind still wants it.  My common sense and desire for a healthy relationship still wants it.  Lord knows my boyfriend still wants it, but my libido ain't havin' it.  Hopefully, eventually, I can add a Sexual Peak to my "I never".  I used to laugh at my married friends when they spoke about the rarity of their intimate romping claiming "I will never not want sex" and now I never thought I would never not want sex.  Disturbing. 
* Along the same lines, I never thought I'd see so much vagina.  I had no idea going into this profession that it was so...vaginal.  And in all the vagina I've seen, I've learned that I am in the minority when it comes to pruning my hedge, so to speak.  Lately I've been thinking of finally goin' for that Brazilian.  I suppose that is going to cost another Benjamin.  But maybe once I finish (laser) removing the hair above and around my lips up north, I can afford to attack the lips down south.  I wonder if they can somehow permanently remove nasal hair? 

I never...

To be continued.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

My Home Town

Every Thursday night at work I look forward to visiting http://www.mcrecord.com/.  It's our local newspaper The Record from the home town and county that I grew up in.  It's very entertaining.  Here's just one example of why.  The following is the weekly crime report:


Oct. 14 — Scrap iron and copper items were stolen from a property on 330th Avenue in Foley.
Oct. 17 — An older model Northwestern skid loader, yellow in color, with a bucket and fork bucket, was stolen from a residence on 330th Street in Motley. Value of the skid loader was $5,000. Later, the owner reported two three-wheelers and frame/wheels for a four-wheeler were also stolen.
Oct. 17 — A property on Skyview Road in Hillman was trashed.
Oct. 17 — A cup with $50 worth of change was stolen from a residence on 200th Street in Little Falls.
Oct. 18 — A 3-foot by 2-foot wooden sign was stolen from the end of a driveway on Quarter Road in Pierz. The sign said “Uncle Bob’s Cabin” and was valued at $100.
Oct. 19 — Someone broke a window in a loader that was parked in a pit west of Genola.
Oct. 20 — A Lincoln brand arc welder valued at $400, a radiator for a Super A Farmall tractor valued at $150, a 10-speed bicycle, a 1980s model Remington brand chain saw and a 12-inch crescent wrench were stolen from a garage on property on 10th Avenue in Burtrum.


And if that isn't entertainment enough, check out the following link.  Now, I have had a baby and thankfully all Mom's think their baby is the cutest because (and some of you will argue) NOT ALL BABIES ARE CUTE.  See for yourself:

http://www.stgabriels.com/Sept2010storkreport.html

Maybe you are fretting about retiring your plow.  If so, find comfort in this story: 
http://mcrecord.com/archives/476789/swanville-will-continue-to-see-the-same-old-plow-truck-this-winter/


You can also visit the Society news and read about engagements here:
http://mcrecord.com/archives/category/society/engagements/ I don't recognize anyone anymore since everyone from my town that is my age, except me, is already married.

Or check out wedding photos in search of the good ole "up nort" spirit such as this glamorous shot :
http://mcrecord.com/archives/476623/melissa-stuckmayer-kenneth-kasella/

Gotta LOVE John Deere.  Which reminds me of something my Grandma once said regarding my Grandpa's obsession with his lawn:  "If I was a lawn mower, Bob would ride me all the time!"

Amen Grandma.

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Cat and Mouse

This morning when I got home from work I "put out", for lack of better words.  I rarely do that since I'm so exhausted from a twelve hour shift that when I hit the warm bed I want nothing but SLEEP! 

All day I've been called things like beautiful, hot, sizzling, sexy and he even told our daughter that "Mom still sends shivers up my spine, maybe even more so now than in the beginning."

I need to do that more often.  It sure makes for a lovely day.

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Baby You Can Drive My Car

And baby I love you... Tootooot, tootooot ya!

I'm not sure what people really know about me, but what they might not know is that I don't like attention, therefore I do not brag. 

Enter BLAGGING.

As one can see, I have a scant following and those that periodically follow are located half way around the world and for some reason that makes them as good as anonymous to me (no offense) and so I'm going to take this opportunity to BLAG!  Yup, that my term for bragging and blogging.  BLAGGING!  HA!

After a few weeks of researching and test driving 7 passenger crossover vehicles I have finally purchased a new car! 

Drop confetti here.

The search was not fun.  I don't do well with making decisions (another thing you may not know about me) especially now that my decisions effect others.  I actually lost a lot of sleep over this whole car shopping ordeal (most of you know about my affliction with anxiety) and drove very badly the past couple of weeks ("I'm an excellent driver"-Rainman) because I was constantly checking out other vehicles on the road.  I ruminated daily about whether to buy new or used, or keep my current PAID OFF vehicle and continue to spend save extra money.  I couldn't stop worrying about what would happen if I bought a car and then it blew up, like so many have in the past.  I stalked Car Soup hourly in search of the perfect vehicle and prayed (jokingly, since I would never really waste a prayer on a material possession) for a sign so I'd know when I'd chosen the right wheels for our expanding family!  Ya think it wouldn't be so hard?

I learned a lot in this process, however.  The old me would be driving around in a lightly used Toyota Highlander right now, cursing that inflated monthly car payment. You see, I've wanted a Highlander for a few years and when I have my mind set on something....look out!  But the revised, somewhat reprogrammed me, is the new owner of a 2008 Mazda CX9 Grand Touring AWD. 
That's not the car, but mine looks just like it.  It has everything!  I've never felt so overprivileged and spoiled!  Heated leather seats.  6 disc cd changer with Bose speakers.  Keyless entry AND keyless ignition!  Automatic windshield wipers?  Who knew!  And so much more.  I should mention the Bluetooth technology on the steering wheel as well, since the sales guy really tried selling me on that, even after I told him I didn't own a Bluetooth.  HA! 

Unlike the Chevy Traverse that I also had my eye on, the only bad review I could find on this vehicle was from a person bitching that they hit their head often while getting in the driver seat?  HUH?  What a melon!  And, foreign car lovers might be disappointed by the fact that Ford built the engine.  But Ford and Mazda have been married for years (although I hear they are divorcing).  The Traverse had multiple consumer complaints of frequent repairs in the first year, even month of it's life.  The Buick Enclave was just waaaaay too fancy.  The Acura MDX too pricey.  The Mazda5, although very fitting, was just not for me.  Etcetera etcetera.

So now that I did some blagging, I have to throw in a little (teeny weeny) whining.  Cause it's not perfect.  In fact, this entire time I refused to look at anything that had over 40,000 miles on it.  Well my new wheels (Italian tires, btw, to keep up with the 3.7 liter V6 engine; blagging over now, I promise) has almost 77,000 miles on it.  I'm not excited about that.  But I'm willing to go with it.  My favorite man in the whole world helped me buy this car and although he did not FORCE me to go with high miles, he did sway me.  A lot of the low mile cars I was looking at had been rentals or had more than one owner in a short period of time with absolutely no service records.  "Keep looking", he'd say, "for a car with ONE OWNER that has all of its service records.  This car was that car.  It was owned by a traveling business man in St. Cloud, Minnesota, who drove all over the state putting on miles but had all of his vehicle maintenance on record with the dealership who sold it to him.  17 records in all for oil changes, tire rotations, brake replacements, you name it.  So that's my gripe.  But I'm coming to terms with it cause we've bonded, my Mazda and me.  And you know what they say...

Zoom Zoom

PS:  Sorry Mom.  I will no longer have extra cash to spoil you with, but a nice car to drive you around in!

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

DID YOU KNOW?

Cause I didn't. 

October is Liver Awareness Month!  I feel a bit sad for the liver, for having to share the limelight with Breast Cancer but I guess there are too many things to be aware of, so they have to double up.

Now you know.

GO ON AND LOVE YOUR LIVER!

Thursday, October 14, 2010

"AND I JUST CAN'T HIDE IT"

I'm so excited! 

I'm feeling sooooo much better, almost euphoric these days.  I never thought it would happen with this pregnancy.  I no longer feel like puking and I'm hungry for everything!  Bring on the occasional bout with hemorrhoids cuz I don't even care. I feel that good.  Big ole weight gain, here I come.  Well, hopefully nothing draz-tik.

Anyway, to celebrate my regained, lucious appetite I have officially declared it CROCK POT SEASON.  I started it by making crock pot pizza for my daughters 3rd birthday party.  It was meant to be served to the kiddies, but you know how picky they are. 


"What's thiiiiiis?"
"Pepperoni".
"I don't liiiiiike pepperoni!"
"You eat it on pizza all the time."
"But there are noodles in this piiiizzzzaaaaa!"


Actually, a few did eat it, but it was definitely a bigger hit with the adults, me included!  With no heart burn to boot!  WOOT WOOT!


The other day I was filtering out my junk e-mail and came across a link from Cooking Light magazine and it just so happened to be dedicated to crock pot recipes.  Mmmmm.  I don't know where to start, but ima make all a dem!  Okay, maybe not.  But check 'em out for yo'self and tell me they don't sound delish.  (Not quite sure why feeling good makes me wanna talk like a "bru-tha" but sheeeet, ima do it!)


http://www.cookinglight.com/food/top-rated-recipes/slow-cooker-favorites-00400000038588/


I don't want to copy Julie & Julia or anything, but I will definitely crock pot some of this shit up and share my opinion with all ya'all! 


"I'm about to lose control and I think I like it. YA-A-YA!"  (Okay, so it's not HIP HOP.  Say WHA?)

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

What's worse?

Have you ever been "SWANKED"?
I used to think it was painful to watch Hilary in any movie.  My sister and I dubbed it "gettin' Swanked".  We could be talking on the phone and one of us would screech in horror:

Me: "What?"
Her: "I just got Swanked"
Me:  "Oh no!  I'm sorry!"
Her: "I need a drink"
(We are always looking for reasons to drink)

Seriously, she was at one time cute but maybe she lost so much weight that she became man-faced or something, I dunno.  But I can't watch movies with her in them!  I seriously thought nothing could be worse. 

Until now.  Until this happened:

You have now contracted The Zellweger!  UGH!  Lately every photo I see of her makes me cringe.  I feel nauseated and dizzy like I'm gonna puke or faint.  What happened?


And how did she land this?

Well helloooo BLUE EYES!

I now think I'd rather get Swanked any day.  I do not want another case of The Zellweger.  Now could someone be so kind as to "Cooper" me?

Thursday, September 30, 2010

The UPs and DOWNs

So today we went for the genetic counseling and level 2 ultrasound.  Things went rather well, as I presumed they would.  The geneticist was very positive and friendly in a "we could hang out" sorta way and told me that she's worked with some clinics that would have considered my lab results to be normal.  HuH?  Interesting.  I'll be honest, I'm still upset I had the damn test.  Here's a breakdown of how stupid it all is.  And I'm not saying people shouldn't do it, but it should be better explained going into it.

* At age 38 I have a 1/138 chance of having a baby with Down Syndrome.
* The QUAD screen showed that 2 of the 4 results of mine were slightly off.  This actually decreased my odds to 1/252. 
* The range for "normal" at my clinic is 1/295, but some clinics us 1/250 as normal in which I would have been considered normal.

So basically, this should all be great news!  So why the further testing?  You would think that they would only do further testing if the results showed anything under 1/137.  OY. 

The ultrasound today was fabulous.  The Tech was wonderful and again "we could hang out" and in fact we'll be at the same conference this weekend.  YAY me for finding a friend for the weekend!  She looked at the heart from every angle.  Definitely more than I could have since I'm not that skilled in the fetal heart.  Our ultrasounds look for 4 chambers and we basically eyeball it when it comes for finding something irregular.  She also measured the nasal bone and compared that to the ear-to-ear measurement and that looked good.  She was able to see he had all the bones in his pinkies, which is good.  His PENIS was out and about, flashing us constantly.  Just like his Daddy...

This all means that the ultrasound further decreases my chances of having a baby with Down's.  This can't rule it out completely.  Your baby can look entirely normal on an ultrasound and still have that extra chromosome.  The only way to COMPLETELY rule out DS is by having an amniocentesis which tests the fluid around the baby.  Ouch.  There are risks.  Babies can die.  And if that comes back positive?  What then?

This is my dilemma.  I had no idea until today that you can by law terminate a pregnancy up until 22 or 23 weeks if the baby has an abnormality.  I tell myself I couldn't live with myself if I did that and so would never, but how do I really know?  Am I just saying that because it's the right thing to say?   So people won't be mortified by the truth of me not wanting to raise a baby with DS?  Most I know, which is few, live with their parents for the duration of their life.  Most people say they are the sweetest God given gift ever.  We had quite a group of them that ate lunch in the cafeteria with us in High school.  I remember "TINA" who would strut down the hall in her denim jacket and cowboy boots with her head held high.  She thought she was the shit.  Save for all the belching she'd do behind me in the salad bar line, I did too.  Some would arm wrestle while the rest of us cheered them on.  The winner would stand up and pump his biceps to the crowd, all proud.  And they have bad days too.  But something tells me this extra chromosome they have prevents them from seeing evil.  From what I know, they are happy more than I.  They don't see themselves as different, but rather, superior.  They represent unconditional love because they don't comprehend the multiple complex conditions we do.  Does this make them abnormal?  So much so that you are allowed by law to terminate the pregnancy because they lack the shit that makes "us" complicated and conditional bastards?  Dunno. 

I only hope I can make the right decision.  My heart tells me that the baby boy developing inside my uterus, kicking me already, is perfectly fine and lovable to every degree.  Normal?  But can my mind listen to my heart between now and February?  Will I have to convince myself on a daily basis that "it's fine" and if it's not I'll love him regardless.  If I don't find out will the first words out of my mouth be "Does he look like has Down's?"  Cause it's fine.  It is.  He is.  IS HE?

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Up iN The aIR

I got some stoopit test results back today that hinted to the fact that my baby in-utero may have a chance of having Down's Syndrome.  Granted, it's less that one percent chance, but that chance is still there.  Now I'm hating myself for opting in on the QUAD screen test that delivered this bad news. 

You see, with my first pregnancy it was offered by I refused because of all the "false positives" I had heard about.  My Aunt, for one, had this "scare" with her youngest daughter who turned out to be fine.  A classmate in college went through it as well.  But being I am now OF ADVANCED MATERNAL AGE my doctor pressured me a tad more with this pregnancy and I caved.

So what do I do?  I meet with a perinatologist for genetic counseling to find out more odds and percentages.  Then I have an ultrasound done that looks for soft Down's markers, such as missing finger bones, shortened legs bones, wide spaced orbits...to name a few.  As an ultrasound tech I have glanced at my baby boy several times and haven't noticed anything different, but I'm only trained to look for certain things.  I haven't gotten a real good view of his face since he likes to hide his face downward.  Anyway, after that test I imagine I'll be offered an amniocentesis, where they stick a needle in my belly and test the amniotic fluid that surrounds the baby.  And that will rule out things..

Less than one percent chance. 

I want my baby to be normal.  Children are a challenge as is.  Could I handle this?  People do. 

Less than one percent chance.

Thursday, September 2, 2010

My Dad, My Hero

Last weekend my man and my kid and me packed up the rusty suburban and headed nort'.  Waaaay up dare too, eh!  Well, okay, not exactly to Canada, but close.  We went to visit my Aunt and Uncle at their cabin for some fishin' and grillin' with a side of Dominoes (the game, not the pizza).  On Saturday morning we headed even further north to visit my Dad's "Deer Camp" so that my Uncle could fix my Dad's satellite TV.  You see, my Dad (bless his technically challenged heart) only screws things up more in a panic trying to fix something.  My Uncle, on the other hand, grew up inside of a TV console and knows everything you need to know about appliances.  He's fixed 'em all. 

As we pull into camp and exit the vehicle, I hear a really faint and sickly "meoooow" that I figured was a squirrel mating call or something of the sort.  Yet I somehow felt compelled to yell "I hear a cat".  Nobody heard, or so I thought.  And we went about our visit.

I started getting chewed to beat hell by mosquitos and the heat so I took Miss M into "the lodge" of sorts where random hunters take shelter and play foosball and drink lots, I imagine.  She ran around jumping on bed after bed and scavenging for lemonade and bananas while I cooled off under the ceiling fans that spun from the vaulted ceilings.  Eventually that got old (for the toddler)  so we ventured back outside to check on the progress of the dish positioning.  This is where my entire day quickly changed.

"There are kittens in this trailer" says my Aunt.  "Didn't you say you saw a cat?"

"I didn't see a cat, but I thought I heard some meowing when we got here" I said.

She brought me closer to the wood filled trailer all littered with spiders and their prospective webs.  I peered down into a hole between logs and there they were..the tiniest of tiny little orange baby furballs.  They were meowing and wiggling.  One looked up at me and appeared to have a dirty or bloody nose.  I immediately started "awwwwe"ing at the cute site.  Then my Dad caught wind of what was happening. 

"There are kittens in there?" He asked all surprised.  You see he didn't have his hearing aide in and probably didn't hear the high pitched meows all weekend...or did he?  Anyway, he went on to tell us that he pulled the trailer from a business in our home town about 4 hours south and when he started loading the trailer to the hitch of his truck, a big orange cat jumped out.

"WHAAAAT?"

Here I thought these kittens were suckling on mama's teets this whole time I was admiring them.  Suddenly everything changed.  I freaked.  I'm sure I hid it well on the outside, but on the inside my pregnant self wanted to take these babies and get them fed and loved, at all costs!

"Dad, you have to take them back with you!  The mama has probably been looking for them".

I don't remember the insensitive shit that all got said, but basically I was told that they'd been there for two days and likely would die in that trailer and become food for some wild animal. 

"What about the farmer down the road?" my Aunt asked.  She felt my panic.  She knew my motherly instincts were on fire about now and was trying to be helpful.

I felt hopeless.  We are in B.F.E afterall.  There is no animal rescue or humane society down the street.  I knew if I tried to give them cows milk they'd get diarrhea, so that was out.  Water?  Would they get desperate enough to know how to drink out of a bowl?  I thought of my friend in the cities that volunteered at a feline rescue.  I bet if I called, she'd make the 4 hour trip and come get these kittens.  Although she would never find the place.  WHAT DO I DO?

More jokes were made about the fate of the kittens.  I resided to the fact that they would in fact, die from starvation.  It was out of my hands.  I had to give up and move on about my day.

We packed in the car and headed back to the cabin.  The kittens didn't leave my mind.  I could have done something.  Why did I leave?

A couple hours later and we were on the boat fishing when my phone received a text message.  It was from Dad.  (Okay, so he can text.  He's not ALL that technically challenged)It said this:

Jen who lives dwn the road is taking cats n will find a home 4 them. I couldn't leave them either.  Spent 2 hrs finding someone but now will b ok.

And before I could process that this wasn't a sick joke I got another text:

Jen went 2 g rapids 4 bottles n formula.  Told her id pay 4 it.

Had I not been on a boat fishing with two grown men whom I'm never seen cry, I woulda started bawling right then and there.  But I held my composure and told everyone on the boat the good news!  And then I responded:

Awwwwe.  Softy.  Thanks Dad!

And eventually another text:

Jen has kits.  2 very weak n not sure if make it. 4 days old she thinks.

At least you tried! Never know. I replied, in which he said:

Damn things but deserve a chance.

And if you know my Dad, he is NOT an animal lover, especially the feline family.  Don't get me wrong, he loves his own dog, but that's about as far as it goes cause he won't even admit that!

The rest of the afternoon I kept getting updates including this forward from Jen:

I found someone whos cat just had kittens in the last 2 weeks so im gonna take these ones in and see if she will nurse them.

It was wonderful news.  The next morning I got another forwarded text from Jen:

Good morning!  One kitten died last night but the other 4 are doing great with their new mom!

It was wonderful news!  Sad as well, because one died.  But first of all, I had no idea there were five to begin with and to find out that they were being nursed by a foster mama?  Tears swelled in my eyes.  And just when I thought I couldn't get more emotional, I get this text from Dad:

U made me look at kittys from a dif view. Thx. I luv u. Enjoy the day.

And I did enjoy the day.  My Dad saved the kittens.  My Dad, My Hero.

Update:  I spoke with Dad yesterday and all four are still thriving!  He and his wife are going to deer camp this weekend and are planning on stopping by to visit them.  All four have already found homes when they are big enough!  Isn't that fabulous?  I cry every time I think about it all.  I'm crying right now.  Thanks again Dad.  You absolutely rock.

He's gonna take a picture for me, but this is how I imagine they will look.  Orange and fluffy and happy and loved and waiting to get into trouble.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Cod vs. Cud

"Panko encrusted Cod" was the description.  And I watched as she put out a whole new pan of fresh pieces all crispy lookin' and garnished with parsley and lemon wedges.  "Mmmm" thought my pregnant appetite.  (Welcome back, by the way).  So I ordered up a chunk, along with some peas and roasted new potatoes.  Dinner is served.

WHAT THE FUCK did I just eat?  Is there such thing as imitation cod?  Cause I guarantee you that what I ingested just now was ne'er a swimmer.  NO..this grew stationary in shit and muck, and not the good fertilizing shit and muck either.  I could barely chew it?  And to make matters worse, it is now stuck in my teeth and I don't have any dental floss at work.  I found a straw but since my adult braces I lack gap so that failed.  OY, I'm distoybed.

Even more disturbing is the fact that I ate it all!  But really, anything smothered in tartar sauce is edible. 

Speaking of parsley, here's a joke that my bro told me at a recent family function:

Q: What is the difference between parsley and pussy?
A:  Nobody eats parsley.

Yup.  That's my family.  Come to think of it, that cod is what I imagine pussy just might taste like. 

What's wrong with me tonight?  I best hang this thing up~

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Weeeee for Wii!

Back in January I started workin' out.  I was gettin' fat and there wasn't much gettin'  left about it.  Then I joined Seattle Sutton Healthy Eating and I managed to drop about fifteen very unwanted pounds.  Then I got pregnant and stopped working out.  As you know I've been quite "ick" this time around and food just hasn't meant the same to me.  It's not enjoyable, but necessary. 

So I eat and do my best to keep it down.  I usually succeed, especially since the doc gave me a prescription for nausea-one that cancer patients take.  It works most of the time. 

Oh, and I never poop.  It's rare.  Once or twice a week.  Now I drink Miralax in hopes that will help.

Anyway, I decided to do some step aerobics on my long lost, forgotten Wii Fit Plus in hopes that my bowels might get jostled a tad and some shit might make it's way to the door.  So I set it up, get it goin' and the freakin' thing gives me grief about not working out in 74 days.  REALLY?  That long eh?  Time is flying.  I do my balance test and then set down the remote (so as not to add extra weight) and listen for the scale to "boopboopboop" up the numbers.  And to my surprise my avitar starts jumping up and down and then flowers appear on the screen and a message pops up "You have reached your goal weight!"  Are you kidding me?  All I had to do was get pregnant to lose that last ten?  Crazy.  I am officially down 25 pounds from where I started.

I reckon I'll make up for it.  I'm well prepared.  So I set a new goal.  August of '11 is my 20 year class reunion.  I will birth this boy in late February early March (provided all goes smoothly) and so I set my goal that one year from now, I will weigh even eight pounds less than I weigh today since the Wii told me that would be a good weight for me.  Unfortunately I can't explain my situation to the Wii.  Maybe they can add that feature?  A Pregnancy Wii Fit PLUS PLUS.  HA!

Thursday, August 12, 2010

I LOVE WEED(s)


Oh how I wish I had Showtime!  I don't even have cable.  Season 6 of Weeds has begun and it's killin' me that I have to wait another 6 months (hopefully less) to get it on Netflix.  If you don't watch it you should.  It's is my drug.  I never really took a liking to marijuana, so this is my weed.

And I simply can not wait for my next hit!

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Weight Lifting

I am now eleven weeks pregnant.  I want to be soooo happy, but I've been soooo sick!  I'm not a good puker and a pukin' I be doin'.  I'm nauseated constantly.  My entire colon cries at the job it has to do the minute it punches the clock.  My stomach is producing more bile than an elephants gallbladder, causing even my feces to be yellow.  Every time I take a sip of water or a bite of food I belch constantly for a half hour.  I'm not even exaggerating!  One day in six will be what I consider "a good day" in which I actually eat well and don't have to brace myself for a possible VURP.  Is this all really first trimester shit?

The other evening I actually ventured outside which is HUGE since the heat and humidity have rendered me an A/C addict, and my man alarmingly commented on my body with a "you look really thin."  HUH?  I dunno what that's about.  I feel fatter than ever.  I'm bloated, I seldom crap and the food I manage to choke down is bottled up in my small intestine making the bloat solid and not just gassy.  FuN FoR Me!

So I dared to do what I haven't yet done since finding out I was preggers.  I step on a scale.  I do a double take.  Humph.  He's right.  I've lost another eight pounds.  Mind you, I had been working out and lost fifteen or sixteen already since January, but this past eight was unintentional.  Water weight?  Maybe.  Lack of alcohol?  Likely.  Not being able to pig on out like I normally do?  Fo sho! 

So I made my first OB appointment for Thursday.  I hear there is medicine for what I have going on.  I would give anything to not feel this way.  My poor BF is trying to be understanding.  He hates to see me horizontal in front of the television 24/7 but honestly I'm not capable of much more and I am NOT, for the record, enjoying it.  I would rather be outside in the garden, grillin' and chillin' and what have you.  I've turned my toddler into a demanding princess since giving in to her ridiculous requests is easier when I feel this way.  She watches movies all day long, makes messes I don't make her clean up and eats food all over the house and has stained (over and over) every piece of furniture on the first floor.  I am creating a monster.  And I think I'm spawning one as well.

Cross your fingers this goes away soon....

Thursday, July 15, 2010

The Gas We Pass

Why is it that the minute I fart someone appears?  Not just a normal, kind fart either.  I'm talking the hot, silent, stinky ones.  The SBD's of Assland.  I'm alone all evening at work except when I have to scan a patient.  I sit in my "control room" and mind my own everything waiting for my pager to go "beep beep beep" in the night.  On a really sloooooooow night I check the web, read a book, check the web some more and no one even comes near me or my four walls. 

Then the gas kicks in.  Heats up.  And stinks rotten hell!  POOF goes the fart and POOF appears a person.  It's not just work either.  At home I'll let one fly and within seconds there's a knock at the door.  And weirdest of all, I swear sometimes after laying a vapor pooper in my car a passenger will all of the sudden be sitting next to me.  How is that?

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Food Review

I'm not often a sucker for food commercials.  Here and there I see one for Olive Garden or Don Pablos that has me scramming to find a partner in crime to indulge with me.  Or maybe a new flavor of the month at Culver's, even though I've only ever had ONE frozen custard from there.  The last few days I've been drooling over the new Sub at Subway.  The Cuban pulled pork.  I love myself some pulled pork so I thought I'd give it a shot.  It's on my way to work and I needn't find a friend to accompany me on a "take out" bender.  So I stopped, they built and I bought.  Subway always baffles me to begin with.  The commercial and the poster show the sandwich with pork, sliced ham, swiss cheese, pickles and mustard and maybe something else I'm forgetting, but the sandwich artist always asks what you want on it.  That always causes me to run amuk with the suggested fixin's!  So I end up with pepper jack cheese, lettuce, pickles, black olives and southwest chipotle mayo.  Toasted please, with a bag of plain chips.  Hold the soda.

So me with my current state of raging hormones and constant nausea inhales half the sub (I always get a foot long so I can have seconds at some point) and shortly after wants to puke.  Granted, everything has made me feel that way lately, but there was something "porky piggy" about the flavor of this meal.  I tasted a tad too much oink for my liking.  So I decided I didn't like the new Cuban pulled pork sammy from Subby.

Nonetheless I just ate the other half nearly 24 hours later and it didn't get any better, even with the added mustard packet.  Bummer.

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Attack of the Tic Tac

About a year back my daughter stopped wanting to leave daycare when I came to pick her up.  I wasn't really offended since I was never one to leave a party before passing out or being dragged out.  I understood there was fun to be had.  It was the fight that got old so I came up with the perfect solution all on my own.  I'll give her Skittles when she gets buckled in her carseat as her reward for leaving peacefully and at her own will.  And it worked!

Well, certain members of my parenting party didn't like that she was eating six Skittles a week and asking for them after "punching out" so to speak so I switched to the ONE CALORIE TIC TAC and made sure she understood she was only to get them in the car, after daycare.  And maybe occasionally on longer road trips.  For example, on our way to my nieces graduation party.

"Can I have a Tic Tac peeeees?"

The talented driver I am I pour the usual two out into my palm and twist my arm just so in the direction of the back seat and she diligently picks them out of my palm.  She's gotten good too, because in the past she'd often drop one and it would disappear into carseat space and all hell would break loose until I replaced the one that'd vanished at the expense of her little fingers.

All of the sudden I hear crying.  What now?  Did she drop one?  She doesn't usually cry about it.  Then my nephew who luckily was sitting next to her in the back seat informed me that one did indeed get lost.  But this time it faded up into nasal space.  And there around her teeny tiny nostril was a hint of apple green candy color that got left behind to prove the crime.

Now I've heard of this before.  I think my bestie's daughter put a felt tip from a marker up her nose and had to see a physician to get it out..or something like that.  I panicked.  I was driving, what could I possibly do?  I was on a super fast, crazy busy interstate.  Do I pull over?  Then before I could make a decision my nephew announces he successfully retrieved the evil little culprit.  Whew.  And guess who sat very quietly in the passenger seat without saying a word or reacting the least bit.  Yup...the Skittle Nazi himself that also tried to police the Tic Tac consumption and I refused to reform.

Needless to say (then why say it?) no more Tic Tac's.  Although it coulda been worse.  It coulda been a Skittle.

The Smell of Water

So I may as well come out and say it.  I'm knocked up again.  This time, however, there were two willing participants as opposed to zero.  HA!  Well, my man "gave it up" one night and I'm guessing by all the pacing and blank looks lately that he didn't think it'd actually take.  Cuz..you know, it only took one time last time.  He's doing alright with it though.  He's coming around.  It's definitely different this time.  He's talking about it.  Asking questions about it.  Has positive remarks about it.  I'm sure I have my critics who'd say we have too much relationship rescuing to do to bring another child into our family but we will always have that.  It's our thing.  We will always be learning about one another.

I'm trying to enjoy it this time.  With my previous pregnancy I was soooo stressed and in a constant state of uncertainty that I honestly only remember feeling a little nauseated.  Not this time.  Noooo.  I'm feeling it all and smelling it all.

OH the SMELLS!

When I open up the washmachine, I wanna puke.  Wha?  It's clean laundry?  When I put on deodorant, I wanna puke.  When I put an effin' glass of water up to my face, I wanna puke.  It's everything.  My coworker is currently eating a buffalo chicken wrap and I wanna puke.  I don't think I would make it as a dog.  And I love love love to eat but now it's become a fret.  For at least an hour after eating I have to concentrate on not puking.  Why not just puke?  Have you ever puked immediately upon eating?  No fun.  Chunks hit the toilet and water splashes back up in your face.  Ick.  Especially here at the hospital.  I don't wanna puke in a hospital toilet.  That thing has seen a lot of ass and a lot of that ass has been sick with something.

So ya.  Prego.  Bun in oven.  Saw the heartbeat yesterday.  Due February 22nd.  I wonder if this time around he'll fetch me Blizzards from the DQ.  Nah...doubt it.  Oh well.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

Mental Tattoos

Oh how I love to get a good massage.  Not a feel good massage either.  No no.  The kind I get are not for the weak.  They hurt.  They make you wanna cry but you know you need the work so you distract yourself by holding conversation with the massage therapist.  Initially this bothered me.  She'd start asking me questions and I'd give short answers hoping she'd just let me relax and enjoy.  But then I realized that I not only needed the conversation, but wanted it as well.  How were her kids-her Albino son with the vision issues?  How's the bathroom remodel coming along?  Did her Brittish hubby find work yet?  And occasionally I'm reminded of a funny that is worth bloggin' 'bout.


As she pressed, pulled and beat on me we began discussing tattoos.  "Yup" I assured her "I only have the one".  But I've always secretly wanted another on my back somewhere, ideally my lower back, of a smooshed fairy from Lady Cottington's Pressed Fairy Book. (Not sure that's the exact title but it's A MUST READ).  When you get to the end of the book this so called pressed fairy cutout falls out onto your lap.  It did mine, at least.  Since then I thought it would look hilarious on my back, as though I personally sat back against a chair and smooshed her with her stretched out leg and foot trailing down between my ass crack.  However, with lower back tattoos gettin' a trampy rap I decided against anymore ink until I can figure out a better place for my fairy to float.


Insert joke here:
Why do women get their belly buttons pierced? (Answer can be found at the end of this post)


SOOoo, I explained to my massage gal that I thought about getting the tattoo on my ankle touched up.  It's quite sun kissed and dull and I wouldn't mind that pain again.  It's a sexy pain.  In fact one of my highschool classmates is a Tattoo Artist and I know she would do it!  But would she?  This is my dilemma.  You see, she used to have a crush on me.  I wasn't really aware of it..I don't think..until a rumor circulated at my sister's wedding that I actually SLEPT with this person. HUH?  Ya, okay.  True.  I did share a bed with her in highschool when we'd have sleepovers but I never SLEPT slept with her.  I even recall a time she put her arm around me "spoonishly" and I thought nothing of it cause she was affectionate.  She had a boyfriend, besides.  Rumors went around that she was a lesbian but I defended her then and now she was spreading rumors about me, er...us!


There's more to the story.  It was before the rumor, after she'd "come out".  Since our Mom's lived across the avenue from one another, I'd visit her when I was home from college.  We sat chatting on the couch and I spilled some frustration about the divorce of my parents and how dating was the furthest thing from my mind.  Well, apparently what she heard was "I'm a lesbian too.  Please help me find a date." 


Now I can see where one might read into that and get that.  KIDDING of course.  HUH?  So I'm at my best friends cabin and she gets off the phone and announces that "E" is coming to the cabin as well and bringing a bunch of gay people!  I didn't mind.  I was hip and open and accepting of E's lifestyle and welcomed her presence.


Hours go by and no "E" and no gay posse.  I got sleepy and decided to crawl into bed and call it a night.  I'm pretty sure I was asleep when this took place.


ME:  Wakes up startled by E jumping on the bed
E:  "Jezi waaaaake uuuup!"
ME:  Now kinda sleeping and kinda pretending because I hear a lot of loud, festive man voices downstairs and wasn't sure if I could ever get the energy to join that party.
E:  "Jezi, I brought a girl for you".
ME: (very calm and groggy) "E, I like penises"
E: "No you don't"
ME: "Yes, I do"


With that she left the room and joined her friends downstairs.  I was rather confused, yet grateful had I actually thought I was a lesbian, or reaching out to become one, that she was there to hook me up.  However, it made for an awkward evening.  I eventually crawled out from my safety hole because quite honestly, the group of 5 or 6 sounded more like a group of infants on a rollercoaster and sleep was not gonna happen.  This girl o'mine (teehee) was not shy about staring at me.  I was shy about even remotely glancing in her direction in fear of misleading her.  And yet, because it's a fault of mine, I actually felt sorry for my blind date because it was too blind to even be a date. 

The rest of the evening from what I recall was quite entertaining for a girl from a small town that didn't have much experience around gay men.  The most vivid in my memory is that of the boys running into the water in their white bikini/thong undies squealing from the chilly water and splashing and galloping about. 

So, as a wrap up, although things have since been smoothed over (and she denied starting the rumor), I'm not sure I want to give her access to my leg with permanent ink.  Maybe I'm just being paranoid.  Indeed, we are Facebook friends and she's been "married" for years and has the most beautiful daughter from Guatemala and probably has no interest in toying with me. 

Afterall, she's already tattooed my brain. 

A:  So they have somewhere to hang the air freshener!

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

The Unthinkable

I got an invite via Facebook the other day that was for a cancer benefit.  I didn't recognize the name so I did some research and it turns out an ex-boyfriend, whom I dated briefly years back, is dating a woman who was recently diagnosed with..of all things..Pancreatic Cancer.  She's 34 freakin' years old.  You can check out her story here:

http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/daynabrown

As someone who works in the medical field (but by NO MEANS is an expert) I know two things.  First, it's a fluke or a mistake cause young women do not get pancreatic cancer.  And secondly, I can tell just by reading her journal that world is going to be worse off without her.  Life is so unfair.  It's likely she won't see her 35th birthday.  She won't get to see her mini potbelly pig Oscar Piggy grow up...or out rather.  There are so many "she won'ts".  I can say this however.  She has a great man beside her on her cancer journey.  She's lucky for that. 

~Smile today~

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Don't Shake the Baby

We had a great weekend up at the Lake as a family + one (my nephew/nanny for the weekend).  The weather could have been better but I'm almost thankful it wasn't since the air conditioning unit in the cabin was obnoxiously loud and irritating.  The first night was a tad muggy so I turned it on to get some air going through the place and had to turn it off!  Anyone that knows me knows that I looooooove myself some cold air inside even when it's chilly on the outside.  But this..thing..this rickety, old box has a screech and a clank and clunk way beyond tolerable.  So much so that I would rather lie awake miserable with sticky, stagnant room air!  Air tantrum aside, we did manage to fish a little.  My daughter didn't want to go on the boat at first.  She HATES loud engines and I felt somewhat apprehensive about forcing her on it but we did.  She didn't enjoy herself one bit.  Until we were done, that is.  She was on my lap the entire time with this cross look of torment upon her pretty little face.  Only once did she speak and that was after I got her pumped up to see the minnows!  "Fish!" she exclaimed.  That was about it.  On the way back to shore she tipped her head back with her eyes closed and let the sun shine on her face. 

She is soooo me sometimes.

Back on land she was all fired up and didn't stop talking about the boat and fishing. 

"I wanna feeeesh". (The eeeeesh is indicative of whining).  Knowing this was not at all true I shrugged it off.  "No no honey.  All done feeeeshing for today".

She didn't let up much but I was able to keep my sense of humor because toddlers DO NOT give up.  Especially if you've ever, even once, given in.  She is relentless and driven.

She is sooooo not me sometimes.

As the weekend progressed she got progressively more whiny.  To be expected, really, since her naps were shorter and she was waking up earlier and getting restless sleep due to a cough that only comes out at night.  (She only comes out at night...watch out boy she'll chew you up!)  Ahem..sorry.  I have these days where everything reminds me of a song.

Back home yesterday I woke up around 6:19 to "Mama! (pause..pause)  Mama!  Where you? (pause pause) Mama!"  I love when she wakes up talking instead of crying because it's usually a sign of a good day ahead.

I did say usually.

I got her up and all hell came up right through the floor and landed right smack in the middle of my house.  It was persistent demands and tenacious whining all fa-reaking morning, up until I managed to take her for a lengthy stroller ride.  There were several time-outs that although normally proven to be successful, failed to phase this little beeeotch..and I use that word sparingly!!  Yikes.  So it made me think, I need to learn better coping skills because I know this is just the beginning.  What will puberty bring other than the terrible teens?  I thought of that video I was supposed to watch before leaving the hospital but didn't because the nurse couldn't get it to work.  It was about not shaking the baby.  Well yesterday it came to me.  Be it an ad campaign or a bumper sticker but let it read this;  DON'T SHAKE THE BABY. You'll have plenty of time for that later. HAHA.  I'm sure only I would laugh to see that since it is quite offensive but that's how my brain was working yesterday.  That was my coping skill.  Sick humor.

Today was a new day.  She rocked.  She was sweat and playful and well..

...she is sooooo me sometimes.