Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Here She Is!

My friend The Hoff started blogging! I would like to take credit as her muse, but I'm not really that full of myself :)

Check it out, it is chock-full of really interesting food / healthy eating / inspiring stuff. Really. Not like the drivel I fill my space with. This stuff is good!

Sweetsie Dreams

In a couple short days I will be fulfilling a couple of childhood dreams.

When I was a young girl (12?), I read my mother's True Romance, True Love, True Story - anything with truthful romance - magazines. They were filled with implied smut, searching kisses, second-chance romances and women Making It On Their Own! - those types of stories. I ate 'em up with a spoon in my formative years. There really should have been a warning label on them, in retrospect.

And in the back of those magazines? Enter to Win contests. With promises of exotic locations where you could discover your one true love, get romanced off your feet, all while being irresistibly cute, tan, blond, with straight white teeth - and happy. Oh, so happy! Swaying-in-your-hammock happy.

I have dreamed of those tropical waters and islands ever since. That is why I never tire of taking what may appear to be the same vacation over. and over. and over again.

But this time? This time, I get to my Actual Dream Destination. I filled out umpteen entries trying to win a trip to Barbados. This was back in the day, Reader, BEFORE the Internets changed things, and you entered contests by filling out 5 x 7 index cards with all your vital information, addressing the legal-sized envelope only, please, in ALL CAPS, exactly as stated or you will be disqualified, and mailing them before the contest-closed date.

When my daddy saw the stack of mail I had for the post office he inquired, "Sweetsie, what's all them envelopes for?" and I shyly told him I was trying to win a trip. "Where to?" "Daddy, I want to win a trip to Bar-bah-dose." "Bar-bah-dose? - You mean Bar-BAY-does," with teasing laughter in his tone.

I didn't win, but my desire to see Bar-bah-dose never waned.

So Saturday, my friend Joanne and I leave on a cruise that stops in Bar-bah-does. I believe we will be there on Monday.

The second childhood dream? It's courtesy of the Reader's Digest. I'll tell ya more about it tomorrow.

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Best Things On My Lips This Weekend

My mouth did a happy-dance this weekend. First strawberries of the season, and they did not disappoint. And I just discovered Mandarins, which are the same as Clementines (I learned).

They were offering samples of the Mandarins at the store, or I would have continued to walk on by them. I'm not a huge fan of the citrus fruits. I'll eat them, but not seek them out.

These changed my mind. They are a delight. And of course, I also discovered them as they are on the tail-end of their season. One more month and they are gone.

Saturday, March 26, 2011

As Good As Old.

What a difference a day + 2 Vicodin + 4 muscle relaxers makes.

I'm back to feeling like ninety-eight bucks. Good, even. I can move without searing jolting pain. That's a good day.

So now? I get rewarded for movement with a houseful of Things that need to be done. Starting...NOW.

Friday, March 25, 2011

I Haven't Got Time for the Pain

It's Friday morning. I'm at home, waiting to see the doctor at 1:00 p.m.

I hurt my back last Friday. Er, sometime last week. It started acting up on Friday. I remember twisting it some time earlier that week, I think while I was showering and reaching around to loofah my back, and it went into an uncomfortable spasm. But then it passed, or so I thought.

I think that was the beginning of the pain.

Last night I moved to get out of bed and did something wrong. The pain is now wrapped around my back to my front, radiating down into my vagina and down the front of my leg.

I waited until 9 a.m. today to call the doctor, even though I considered going to the ER last night. But then that felt ridiculous. I'm from a family who did not go to the ER unless death was eminent. I actually laid awake in bed last night crying, thinking that compared to the Tsunami victims in Japan, this is nothing, and I need to not even consider going to the ER.

My doctor's office advised me to go to the ER.

I told her that I didn't believe that you were supposed to go to the ER just because something hurts, isn't it reserved for more life & death situations? And that it feels ridiculous to go to the ER just because I'm in some pain (images of Tsunami victims played out in the scenes of my mind), although it's enough pain to keep me unable to stop crying.

The doctor himself called me back, asked me if I could come in at 1:00. Through my tears I replied, "As long as I don't have to look pretty, I can come in." He paused, and then burst out laughing and told me that no one had ever had that line for him before.

I'm just hoping to be able to shower before I go see him. I fear I'm a little smelly in my areas, due to my lack of being able to twist and bend to wipe Things to my usual specifications.

I'm willing to risk a doctor's visit weigh in to get my back to stop hurting. That's how much it hurts.

Monday, March 21, 2011


Still nuttin', Honey. Too tired/lazy to type words that make any sort of sense. Maybe tomorrow?

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Three Is a Nice Start

Some words will be written come Sunday. Er. Well, I guess it is technically Sunday. Words will be written later in the day on Sunday. Much later in the day.

Off to bed. With cats.

Which leads me to make one point. We were watching a show last night as we were nodding off, and it was some Animal Hoarders show. Dude on show - who was being accused of being a hoarder - had three cats. Three. WTF, Animal Hoarders. Three cats does not a hoarder make.

But now I'm worried that I'll be Interventioned at some point.

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Whistling Dixie

Hello there! It's Saturday. Here are a few updates.

Stanley. He went to the vet Tuesday evening, got a steroid shot and a pain killer shot of some sort. I don't know what sort of magic was in them, but he's been better/normal ever since. He's on my lap right at this very moment, purring away. He's eating normally, too. Well, we did buy him some honey ham and roasted chicken lunchmeat, which he has enjoyed - to say the least. Talk about spoiled. Who knows what tomorrow will bring, but he's been good for four days now. One day at a time.

There's a list of probably ten things in life that really annoy the piss outta me. I don't know what all those things are at this moment, but that leads me to think that in the near future I should actually jot down this list for my own knowledge. Anyway. One of those things is a Nose Whistle. My exhusband, F-steve used to sometimes get a nose whistle on purpose, just to annoy me, and then breathe it right near my ear while I was sleeping. He also used to tuck cat tails into the crack of my ass while I was in bed, but that's another story. Yes, it is true, I wish I were kidding. I might as well finish that story. Then he'd pull the tail out, sniff it and proclaim, "The cat's tail smells like shit!". Yes. All true. I'll give you a moment to process the visual. I can't tell you how many arguments we had that included the phrase, "Stop sticking the cat's tails in my ass!!" Is that normal? Surprisingly, it's not even the cause of the label of "ex."

Anyway, that's quite a deviation from the Nose Whistle. I've been sporting a Nose Whistle, and I can't seem to get rid of it - or even quite pinpoint it. It may be a chest-rattle. It's something, and let me tell you, I'm annoying myself with it. I woke myself up out of a Nyquil-induced slumber last night (you know how hard that is to rouse out of!) with the sound of the Whistle in the room. I'm going to have to determine it's source (nose? chest? throat??) and fix it. Or kill myself. Because I hate that sound that much.

To be continued. We're getting dressed to go drink some beers and sing karaoke. Getting dressed because we enjoyed a little afternoon delight, which was more like late evening delight, took a little nap, made a couple of sandwiches and are now ready to go and do even more unproductive things with our day.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

It's All in the Details

Here it is, a random Wednesday. I've been sick. Coughing myself into a headache of Epic (still managing a Charlie Sheen, despite the fact he's ruining all Charlie Sheen jokes) Proportions. I was home yesterday, and had every intention of going to work today despite the fact that I coughed the entire night and have a raw throat as a result. However, I exhausted myself taking a shower so I just plopped my ass in the recliner and here I sit. Typing absolutely nothing that even matters to anyone.

Stanley is acting out of sorts with his asshole again. It started a couple of days ago, picky eating and hiding in a corner of the room. Last night I had Kenny take him back to Vet #1, the local dudes, where he got a steroid and a pain med. I am only hoping that it reduces whatever swelling is going on making it difficult for him to poop, and a little more comfortable. He's better today. He ate some chicken, and is now laying in his usual spot, which is on my lap and half of the computer keyboard. I fear The Worst is coming around the bend, and I HATE The Worst. But at the moment, it's okay, and I'm focusing on that.

A few other things that have been on my mind/causing me a little anxiety:


I don't understand my new health care program that I signed up for from work. It's new to me, and I don't get it. I don't know who my coverage is through. I don't know how to make a doctors appointment, because I don't know my plan.

I know this sounds stupid - how can I not know my plan? - but it's changed, and I picked something different than my normal thing because it's a cheaper monthly out-of-pocket, and I just don't understand it now.

Also? I had a health care money thing last year, where I put money into an HSA, but didn't spend it all, so I think - but am not sure - that I have some money there I could use.

The details of my life are a complete shambles.

I need to make a gyno appointment. It's been so long (again) that the health care place sent me letters about going and getting my snatch and boobies checked out. I thought I would do that today, while I sit here, but can't seem to get it figured out.

2/ The House. We started re-arranging it over the weekend, but didn't finish and now it, too, is in a shambles. I'm too much out of sorts to do anything other than look around at it all for the past 2 days.

3/ Money. Worried about it, always seem to be stretched a little too tight. How can I make a decent living, but be living so week-to-week? It stinks. I squander, I know, but not really. I think I have too much allocated to my 401k, out of fear of having to be a Denny's Waitress when I'm 65. Always a trade-off somewhere.

That's all. Not winning, or even mildly amusing. I've got no wit today.

Saturday, March 5, 2011


UPDATE: I've been informed by CSA partner that we "are not old! We are Urban Cool!!" So there you have it. I'm Urban Cool.

So. EXCITED. And this, Reader, is how it will become crystal-clear to you that I am seriously, smack-dab, no-more-denying-it, in the heart of Middle Age.

I'm excited because I'm in the process of joining my first CSA. For all of you out there who aren't part of the Cool Crowd who knows what that means (ahem. I was part of that crowd up until Friday), it's a Community Supported Agriculture group. Meaning, my friend The Hoff and I are going in half-sies to buy twenty weeks worth of produce and conflict-free eggs from our local (local being used in the loosest sense of the word, they are a good long drive from the city) farm, Murray Hill Farms. And we are all hopped up with excitement about it!! Whoo-hoo, FRESH BEETS! And Guinea-hen EGGS! Eggs from hens who were allowed to walk around in GRASS, and eat the foods as nature intended, without the additive of arsenic.

Reader, I won't bore you with more details about it, but I will say this: I'm far, far, far from being a healthy eater. I enjoyed many many Reese's peanut butter eggs last night (in my defense, they were teensy-weensy, "fun-sizers"). However. I am trying - hard - to lean into better healthy habits this year. I will not adhere to sweeping overhauls, I know myself. That's the key: Know Your Limits, Work Within Them. Do what's do-able.

So how have I been leaning into better health?
  • We've eliminated 95% of our soda consumption for the past year and a half.
  • We've 100% eliminated aspartame from our food intake.
  • Purchased a Vitamix last summer, and have been using it to create healthy breakfast concoctions filled with fruits and my Juice Plus vitamins. Have had sporadic consistency for the past year, working to be better.
  • Taking a multi-vitamin every day, starting last week. Striving for consistency. So far, so good.
  • Today? Joining a CSA.

None of this is a weight-loss effort, so stop analyzing my photos. I am who I am at this moment. Tomorrow's, or next week's, or next year's moment may look differently. But today? I'm trying to be the best I can be today.

And while I was going to end this on a Charlie Sheen note, I just want to point out that my friend Murdoch and I were making Sheen-jokes waaaay before the rest of the nation caught on. Now, it's overdone, thanks to Charlie Machine himself. He just couldn't shut up and let us write his material.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

I've Got Tiger Shit In My Veins

"You have to suspend judgement if you want to be in my world."

Thanks, Charlie Sheen. My favorite paraphrased quote. Ever. Really!

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Let The Fingers Do The Talking

Sitting at our neighborhood Mo's, I spied two gals having drinks together. And of course, two gals having drinks together can only spell one thing: Lesbos. I asked My Mister if he thought they were "twice-raised-eyebrows, wink-wink, hand gesture" and he inquired, "What is that, your gesture for lesbians??" And then I said, "Yes! I think I just invented this!!" and he burst my bubble with the proclamation that it probably already exists somewhere on the World Wide Web.

But I'm not going to even bother searching, I'm claiming this as my own, and here's the VLog to prove it. So suck it, Internet. Two amber-bock beers and I call it!