Breathin' Easy

Ever since the Great Mold Incident of '09 at the workplace, I've had sinus troubles. Now, I can't form a direct link to my stuffy congestion and the Mold, but I know how it started - it came hand-in-hand with my Mold Cough. The congestion gets worse as the day progresses.


So what's a girl to do? Well, just ask Pete & Vera. While at their house for dinner one evening, around the date of the Day I Turned 43, they presented me with the greatest birthday present ever. Well, in context to being 43, that is. And a 43 where you are having trouble with the simplest of life tasks: breathing. They gifted me with a Neti Pot. Or a Nutty Pot as Vera had dubbed it. Pete had actually bought His & Hers Neti Pots for himself and Vera (who needs diamonds to say "I Heart You"). After they got sick of listening to me wheeze my way through an evening, I was the recipient of Pete's "Hers" pot - unused, of course.




Out of clear concern, Vera wanted to capture the experience for all the world to enjoy. So here ya have it - the Road To A Clearer Nose, in all it's picturesque wonder.

Reading up on this. I'm supposed to fill the little blue teapot with warm water and a salt solution. And then pour it up my nose. Sounds like a great time.

You have to pour it UP your nose, while bending OVER the sink, or it'll go down the throat and make ya gag. I asked Pete to hold my hair, like any good sorority sister would do, but he just tucked it into my shirt for me instead - he didn't want to get in the way of Nostril Cleansing Progress.







Vera, perched on the toilet, made sure to get the iPhone camera right up in my grill the entire time. You can thank her for your enjoyment.

Getting used to it, didn't quite have my head tipped the right way and got a little down the throat. Nice.

What Fun Times looks like:

Waving off the photos while I tried to regroup:

Take 2:

Finally! The cute-as-a-button nose is actually serviceable once again! But notice, the eyes look a little crazy from the experience.

I got a little bit addicted to this thing and have been Nutty-Potting myself like crazy. Kenny's talking about staging an intervention.

I can hardly wait to see what I get when I turn 44. Maybe I'll turn it into a contest for Most Original Idea - but it'd be hard to top the Year of the Nutty Pot.

Next Time, Maybe You'll Reconsider

There's been a lot of this going on in at the house this week:



Stanley:


And since Stan sleeps on his Down pillow, which is right next to my Down pillow, and since he hasn't mastered the art of the Dainty Sneeze, I've had cat mucus sprayed on my face repeatedly for the past few nights.


It hasn't been limited to just Stanley - they've all caught this cold. Kenny's been getting showered on his side of the bed by Girl Cat, Toby has been having machine-gun sneezing fits that, much to my dismay, have not been able to be captured on video because I've been too busy laughing in the face of his sickness. But seriously, it's pretty funny stuff to see in person, he had a record 23 sneezes in a row.

So with all of 'em catching this little nasty bug, Saturday Morning Fun involved wrangling up all five cats and carting their sneezy asses off to the vet. It was quite a chore to wrangle up five of 'em. Girly is so under the weather that she didn't even complain, at least not until I tried to shove Stanley in the cat carrier with her. She ended up beating his ass up a little bit, so I hauled him out and put him in another one with Toby. We only have three carriers - who knew they'd all need to go at the same time? So Girly got to ride in her own carrier, Toby and Stanley were easy enough to catch and shove into another, and the baby Black Kitten (who, by the way, we've officially named Fuji on her vet charts - Kenny likes that name, we'll see if it sticks) tried to make a run for it, but came back when I shook the can of Pounce treats. Twinkle was the only true hold-out, he was under the guest room bed and we had to prod him outta there with a broom handle. He's the sickest of the bunch, it turns out. Hundred-n-four degree temp and a weepy eye.

The vet was rather impressed that we were able to corral all five of 'em. I am, too, as a matter of fact. So they all got anally-raped with the thermometer (which Toby protested the loudest about), shots of the kick-everything-ass antibiotic which lasts for 14 days, and a steroid to make their breathing a little more comfortable today. Twinkle got an additional eyedrop prescription. Everyone should be on the road to recovery. And this counts as the cat's Christmas gifts, since this little endeavor set me back $490. Hey, at least he only charged me for one office visit.

I held the little black baby (Fuji?? hmmm... not sure) in my lap on the way home. She was a great traveler. And then on the way into the house, she shit right on me. Or more like down me, as I was standing upright and carrying her into the house. Maybe she didn't know where she was going. Maybe the thermometer jiggled something loose. Maybe she was just so happy to be home. Whatever the reason, I had to hose off the driveway and clean up the stair step in the hallway. Take that, Mommy, and see what else you get the next time you take me to the vet. I consider myself warned.

Things I Learned

Now that I'm 43, I actually checked the expiration date on the gallon of milk before drinking a glass with my vitamins. Take that, Spoiled Milk! You can't fool ME again! I'm OLDER & WISER now!

Now that I'm 43, I actually used the lint roller to remove the cat from my ass BEFORE I left for work. No more Disheveled Arriver in the morning. Take that, Haired-Up Pants!

Now that I'm 43, I actually have to go to bed instead of staying up late blogging. Take that, Old Lady!

More to come later, when I have time to write the Early Bird Special.

Teaser

I've been giving splotchy Blog lately, and for that, Reader, I apologize. I don't know really how you can even be expected to go about your normal business without my words to ponder throughout your week. But yet you must, and I once again am not going to be pulling my weight in this relationship tonight, either. It's far, far too late to begin detailing the shenanigans that make up my life, but let me assure you that this week There Will Be Blog, and oh yes, there will be accompanying pictures.

It is, after all, Birthday Week. The last Sunday where I will be 42, about to pass me by in 31 minutes. Stand by. It could get messy.

Aisle 6

I - perhaps these are lofty ideals of myself - tend to think of myself as being of medium intellect, and in some circumstances, compared with certain populations, even above-average with my knowledge. While I don't have an exceptional command of the English language, I do like to think that I know some words. So I was taken aback when I was at Giant Eagle tonight, a different store from my norm, and saw this on an overhead sign:


Aseptic? I wonder how many people in Parma go into the store looking for the Aseptic aisle. Apparently enough to way-find it. I saw only assorted beverages down the aisle. Of course I had to Google this immediately when I arrived home and it made a little more sense:

aseptics, (used with a singular verb) a system of packaging sterilized products in airtight containers so that freshness is preserved for several months.

But really? I'm still not convinced this is a good caption call-out. But I do guarantee that the next time I wander in to Giant Eagle, I'm going to saunter up to any clerk I can find and ask if they can tell me where to find the aseptics.