I was cleaning a mound of papers and school work, and I came across this. Thank God the kids are at school when I find stuff like this. Isn't she brilliant?
Me too, hunny. Me too.
I'm probably going to get in a lot of trouble for exploiting my daughter's innocence. But really, she's way ahead of her time is all I'm sayin.
That's how I roll.
Les
The doctor called today. I always hold my breath with a doctor calls you with "results" but it turns out, they could tell me everythign over the phone, so that's good. When they tell you to come in so they can meet with you, that's bad. I NEVER want to see a doctor's office. Never. It's never good news when they let you meet them in their office. I'll be happy to pay the co-pay and sit in the 6X6 examining room for each doctor's visit.
They actually took a biopsy. Now, when you say biopsy to me, I think CANCER. But apparently, there's other things you do a biopsy for. And so they found it.
Drum Roll please: Eosinophilic Esophagitis - that's a fancy (and by fancy, I mean, I told the nurse on the phone "God Bless you" when she said it. Then asked her to spell it for me) word for everything I've already described and it means I have some kind of food allergy. Food allergies include: milk, eggs, peanuts, shellfish, peas, beef, chicken, fish, rye, corn, soy, potatoes, oats, tomatoes and wheat. Of these, the most common food triggers are milk, egg, wheat, rye and beef.
I am on my knees with thanks that these allergies do not include: Vodka, chocolate, bread, butter, sugar, cake, or Roasted Red Pepper Hummus. Hopefully, I'll continue to advance the medical world and it'll be brocolli or something like that. I realize that it may be an ingredient in one or many of my favorite foods. But I can work with that.
So, for now, I'll see an allergist. And I'll have to use this inhaler thingy prescription. Instead of inhaling it, I have to swallow it. I imagine it's a lot like huffing. More drugs! Yay!
I am relieved that allergies is all it is. I gotta tell ya, when they said that my esophagus was narrowing, I wished it was my hips instead. And then I was nervous, because I really love to eat. I mean, I really love it. I love food. A lot. Explaining that to a doctor tends to get a little awkward.
That's how I roll-
Les
I hope these parents are enjoying this glory. Who cares if she can READ. Can she pee and poop on the potty? That's the BIG question, kid. When your parents can teach you THAT, then I'll be impressed.
These parents have been all over the news circuits raving about their kid who can read at 17 months old. But it's not like they are dropping big words on her like: Republican, or Pneumonia. Big woop - she can spell Happy. C'mon That's so easy: H-A-P-P-Y. If she can read, that means her parents can't spell stuff out. They'll NEVER make it. And another thing, if she can read at 17 months, what the hell will she be able to wow us with at 27 months? Now, if she could do the laundry AND the dishes. THAT would be earning her keep and noteworthy.
MY kids can pee and poop on the potty...ON QUEUE. ANNNNNDDD, I taught Lucy how to vacuum yesterday. AND Max can totally dunk on this kid. So there.
All I'm sayin, is at 17, she'll be a drug addict. But atleast she'll be able to read the labels she's stealing out of her mommy's medicine cabinet.
That's how I roll.
I had to sign a document that said I wouldn't post on my very own blog for 48 hours until after my Endoscopy. So, here we are. I'm really risking it all because the surgery was scheduled for 11a.m.,, but ofcourse the doctor was running late. Had she been on time, this post would be just at 45 hours. But since she was so late, it's 43 hours after the procedure. Glad we cleared all that up.
I was fine waiting for the doctor. Really, it's like airline pilots, you just want to make sure they are happy with their job, not about to go on strike or something, and that they aren't drunk. With a pro like me, I can easily solve both mysteries, even with an i.v.
I've never had a problem with hitting the ol vein. I used to give blood regularly. There was this one time I was giving platelets. And they got my blood, it spun and diffused, they went to put the blood back in, and the needle had slipped out of my vein. FIRE! That hurt, but made this really cool softball size Van Gogh looking tattoo with fabulous hues of purples and yellows and blues. The other day, they could not find my veins. They dug and dug and dug. Tried three different places on my hands and two different nurses before they could get it. I kept trying to tell them my elbow creases are where I find the best access. My veins kept rolling. And I have old lady hands with puffy veins that stick out.
The nurses were sweet. "Are you okay hunny?" Most people look away, but they caught me watching with great wonderment and curiosity. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm totally into needles." By then, I'd done my entire comedy routine for them, so they were cool. It bothers me when people say they won't give blood because they hate needles. Especially when they are covered in tattoos.
To be truthful, I don't really LIKE needles either. I don't invite needles to dinner, or to come play with my kids. But I like to live. That's good. And I think I've resolved that I have something in common with recreational drug users: It's totally worth the high.
WOOOHOOO! That was some fun stuff. The nurses told me that I was basically not to do the following:
1. Go back to work.
2. Drive.
3. Go anywhere in public.
4. Talk to anyone.
What? Don't talk to anyone? WTF, that's my lifeline. Well, it turns out, that not only would I be woozy, high as a kite, dizzy, and fun to take advantage of, I'd have a bit of amnesia. They were giving me some kind of amnesia drug. So, there IS such a thing! All this time, I thought the writers at Days Of Our Lives were smoking a little too much weed. Hmm. Who knew?
I suppose the "Don't go anywhere in public. Go straight to bed and just lay there til the drugs wear off" was a last ditch effort to get me from getting arrested or embarassing loved ones. I can embarass loved ones on my own free time, I guess. I followed all the rules except for one: Don't talk to anyone. So, if I talked to you on Wednesday, and heck, let' say Thursday too - just to cover my ass -Then I remember nothing, and you should probably check back with me.I probably shouldn't have been the one to take the kids to that birthday party yesterday...
For a moment, I wished I was a working woman again, so I could go back to the office and sound off. I'm sure my old co-workers would agree that jacking with me could have been a great day at the office.
The needle prodding was totally worth it. That was some fun stuff. While they were in there, they stretched my swallower for bon appetite. So, that was a nice bonus. The doctor will call me next week and let me know what's up and how fun my comedy routine was with a tube down my nose and throat. I can't wait to hear her critique!
Thanks to all of y'all for your concern, thoughts and prayers. It really wasn't a huge deal. Except the drugs. That was great! My hands are bruised from the needle "vein search" and hurt worse than my throat does. So, I'm all good.
That's how I (and my veins) roll.
Oh, Bless This Woman's Heart...
Just once, when these lawmakers/lawbreakers make these little announcements, I think the wife should stand not beside their husband, but in the audience, heckling the guy, and please, not wearing pearls. Geesh. Be original!
I couldn't resist making a few comments on this guy. In the mornings, while the kids are eating, I like to brush my teeth and get dressed with the tv on so that I can verbally argue with Matt Lauer. Some one should. So when he introduces this story, he says, "The question EVERYONE is asking is how did he get away with it?" Well Matt, a) that's not the question we were asking. The question most Americans are asking is: "Just how many more of these slime bucket American Law Makers are sabotaging our judicial system and breaking the very laws they make?" And b) he didn't really get away with it, now did he?
Then Matt Lauer went on to interview professionals. And by "interview" I mean, asked a question, then answered it with a statement, and then paused for a second or two before interrupting so he could hear himself talk again.
My question out of complete naivity - I'm sure - is: What the hell does $4,300 get you? I mean, it's been awhile since I checked the going rates of prostitution, but I've never seen anything on the MENU that was $4,300. Must have been some kind of combo extra meal deal or something.
As you read this, I am highly drugged is all I'm sayin.
That's how I roll.
As a stay-at-home-mom, I find myself on the phone with endless amounts of people as a consumer. So, I just feel the need to break in to their souls. Break up the monotony of their day. Make them laugh. It's tough, because they are trained to not laugh. But, I push the envelope...and buttons...until they do it.
When I ordered my computer a few months ago, I had the guy on the phone, in his cubicle shouting as loud as he could, Pi-Yow! It's a long story that involved what we discovered, a co-worker was a former college teammate of mine. But he did it. And he liked it, I'm SURE. Whatever, he got the sale, and I got him to do it. So it was win-win.
Tomorrow, I'm scheduled to go in for an Endoscopy for the snake swallowing the cd thing. Although, it's just a regular procedure. I'm excited because I get the good drugs and the day off. Some people go to spas, I like to go for "get work done" that involve good drugs.
So, yesterday, the lady calls me to verify my health history and remind me fast.
Ofcourse it involves extensive questions.
Her: Do you have a history of cancer in your family?
Me: Do you want to go refresh your coffee before I answer that question...it's a bit of a long list.
Her: Do you have a history of heart disease in your family?
Me: Is that coffee still hot from the last question, because that is yet another list. I am doomed. Hereditarily speaking my parents and geneaology have left me the following:
Cancer
Cellulite
Heart Disease
Alcoholism and easy access to 12-Step programs
And a fabulous personality and need to express it...loudly.
Her: Okay, well, that's an interesting track record. Hmm. Okay, well, when was your last period?
Me: (This is too fun and easy to jack with these people) Well, per our previous review of my past surgeries, I have no clue, but I'm guessing from my monthly zit on my face, maybe last week...
Her: Okay, you need to not have anything to eat 24-hours in advance. Clear liquids only. Nothing purple, blue, or red.
Me: I can't eat for a whole day? Really? That's awful. I don't think I can do that.
Her: What kind of medication did they send you to take prior to the surgery?
Me: I get meds at home! SWEET!
Her: Well, you should already have the medication with you and ready to go. Are you sure you don't have any prescriptions from your doctor to fill?
Me: No. And I'm still upset about the fasting thing. Is there any way I can get around that?
Her: Oh. Oh Goodnes. I'm sorry, I've been calling people scheduled for colonoscopies all morning. I was prepping you for a COLONOSCOPY!
Me: Yeah, make sure the Doctor is WELL AWARE of where he is supposed to be scoping tomorrow. And that the drugs are really good either way. And do I still have to fast 24 hours then?
Her: No, just nothing after midnight prior to the surgery.
Me: So, you're saying no Girl Scout Thin Mint binges after Midnight?
Her: Just make sure you get them down before Midnight.
Me: I'll do it! Thanks!
And then she hung up laughing. That's how I like to leave people. It's a gift.
Thanks for the relief that I don't have to hunger strike nor poop all night. Whew! So your prayers for the doctor to do the right scope in the right, uh, crevice, would be appreciated.
That's How I Roll.
I've gotta start by saying, I've lasted longer than the gym rush. That's my success story...I met no goal, but yet, I lasted longer than the others. nd by others, I mean those "i'm going to lose weight this year" people who crowd my space at the gym. Every year, you can bank on January and some even last into most of February (since it's a short month and all) my gym is more crowded than usual. It's March now, and we're finally back to the regulars at the gym. And I've just barely outlasted the weight-loss resoluters. BARELY.
Remember my New Years Resolution? It was to grow out my hair. Well, it's March, and I went in to get the split ends trimmed. Soon, in a furious rage, somewhat startling my friend, my confidante, my therapist, my hairdresser and stylist extraordinaire, I'd convinced her to give me back my cute short A-line bob. Mind you, I'd made her take an oath a few months back that I'd be back begging her to cut my hair off, and that she better not fold on me. And she never balked ONCE today. Just "okay, let's do it." So, really, it's her fault.
When polling the mass audience...those who have to look at me all the time: It was 2-1. Ricardo wanted me to stick with growing my hair out...the ones on my head, not the ones on my legs. The other two in my polling audience get double votes. They are my SuperDelegates: JulzHolla! and Nikki-TheCakeMakingDiva. And both said the exact same thing. And they said the exact same thing as when I'd polled others when trying to grow my hair out the LAST time - a few years ago: "I like your hair short." The SuperDelegates speaketh. So be it.
Thing a is my hair ends up in a nasty ponytail with fly-aways when it's long enough. And thing b is my thin hair starts falling out in the shower as it grows. I've found a hair cut that works just for me. And I'll just stick with it.
I love make-over pictures where they look so pathetic and miserable in the befores, don't you:
I have a pretty good cold, and am hoping that's why my nose looks so big in this picture. It's how I feel, atleast...just check out the hair...
I'll reconstruct/revisit a better resolution: I'm going to resurrect my comedy career. And by career, I mean, I'm going to make a no-pressure commitment to open-mic nights. One a week. Whew! I'm getting crazy now!
It seems, I've lost my little ostrich-sized brain. I used to work at a Nutrition Store, selling vitamins and herbal supplements. I always got a good laugh at people who would come in and I swear, really said this:
"I need some more of a pill.....it's an herb....it's for my memory. It works really well, it's a funny named herb...can't really remember it off the top of my head..."
ME: "Ginkgo Biloba?"
Them: "Hmmm, I don't know. That doesn't sound right. I can't remember. It's really good for the memory and is supposed to keep your mind sharp."
Morons. I feel like that guy today.
We had a wonderful weekend, with Gramma and Bean-Bean coming in to watch the kids play their last YMCA game. I survived the season! Yay! Sven and Little O came to watch them play too. So nice. I was glad there would be witnesses to my frustration of this whole set up. Of which there must have been a memo that went out and said it was the last game and to be on your best behavior, because there was no proof as to my rage for Kindergarten YMCA basketball. It was all fun and games and good sportsmanship. Blah,blah, blah.Whatever.
While Ricardo and Bean-Bean were picking up a new engine for the Chevelle, Gramma and I took the kids to a home improvement show. It was like frikkin halloween. Toys and gadgets and magnets and lots and lots of candy for the kids. I mentioned we could call one of Gramma's nephews nearby, who'd just had a new baby, and then said, "Nah, they're coming over for dinner tomorrow night." And we went on our merry way.
Sunday night, we observed that the kids were due for early bedtime simply to make up for a crazy weekend. Our kids and our sanity thrive on good food and lots of sleep. So, we make a plan to feed them at 6p.m., bathe at 7p.m. and then almost straight to bed. Soon Lucy has convinced me that it's her turn to cook for the family, so, I throw my menu out and help her make us chili. It's good, we have fun. All is right with the world. I'm cleaning up dinner while Ricardo plays with the kids when he asks me, "Hey were you expecting someone to drop by?" I look out the window and see his cousin with the baby and wife coming to our door. We TOTALLY FORGOT we were having them over for dinner! This really isn't like me, because, A) I enjoy having this family over and the baby is so cute and sweet and I really look forward to seeing them any chance we get because all of our schedules are so crazy, it's really too few and far between. And B) I love to cook for people and wow them with my culinary SKILLZ. I have no skill, but typically the food is good. So that's fun. We apologize. They explain that actually they are pretty full from a late lunch. We play with sweet baby. We chat. Sweet baby starts crying, and they go. I feel like an ass, but am grateful for the visit. I'm fairly certain they stopped at Sonic on the way home. But they are just too nice to tell us.
The next day, I decide to hunker down and get JulzHolla! her birthday present. She's been yappin about a purple Ipod Shuffle for a while and so Lady Cake Maker - Nikkiand I decide it's time to help our girl out and get her the shuffle. Now, some of you may know already, but they are coming out with a new shuffle. I've been to WalMart and Target, looking high and low, but the 1 gigs went on sale and cleared out, so the 2 gigs could hit the shelves. Problem is, the 2 gigs aren't on the shelves yet, making Mission: Purple Ipod Shuffle fairly difficult. Finally I remember the Apple Store, and call. They have plenty of the 2 gigs, and I go. I get it. Those ipod people are so techy. Some guy scanned my visa on a handheld and said he'd email me my receipt. I sure hope he worked there....
I get the Purple Shuffle, text Sven and tell him what we got JulzHolla! So he doesn't duplicate it and explain that he'd have to go with diamonds or something. We're all set! Yay! I get home, and JulzHolla! has just IM'd me that "Guess what! My mom and dad just sent me a purple shuffle for my birthday! Isn't that great! I've already registered it and loaded it up and can't wait to go to the gym." Super. "Hold on Julz. No....can't talk...i'm on the phone with your mother, cussing her out." Note to self, check with MOTHER too for next gift! AAACK! Sigh. Still, I'm glad she got the purple shuffle because you KNOW those purple people are freaks about their color. You know they are. If you deny it, it's because you're a purple person. I resolve there's other fabulous ways to spoil my online girlfriend on her birthday and get over myself.
That night, Monday, yesterday, I'm reading my book in the bathtub. We have a modest home, and I have to fess up to the logistics of my modest home now. The toilet is next to the bathtub. So, I fill the tub up with bubbles, set a towel over the seat of the toilet, book on towel on toilet, get in tub and then shut the curtain so i don't have to stare at the toilet. Except, this time, I didn't have my towel on the toilet. The book is good, and I've been reading in the tub for well over an hour. Long enough for the hot water to start cooling to body temperature. I had to force myself to stop reading and mark my place so I could get out of the tub. I go to toss the book on the toilet lid. But it's not closed. And I toss the book INTO the toilet. Now I have to fish the book out and shower now because I've just stuck my hand into a toilet. And mind you, it's a borrowed book. Sigh.
This morning I resolve will be much better. Much more efficient. Like a well-oiled machine, if you will. So, Lucy comes in to the bathroom and needs to wash her hands, I already have the water on from brushing my teeth and washing my face. I don't like cold water, so I have it on warm with a little hot and cold on. The cold water tends to turn off and keep turning, then turning back on a bit. So, I'm waiting for Lucy to finish washing her hands so I can turn off the tricky faucet myself so it doesn't drizzle all day. I go to turn off the water, and turn the cold off first. Not smart. She pulls her hands out, and I've stung my little girl's hands with a millisecond of hot water. I'm a complete ass. I run cold water over them. Check out her hands. They are fine. Except she wants to talk about how Mommy burned her hands now. Super. She tells me she's going to tell her teacher about it. Was that a threat, little girl? I have to email the teachers about some other items of business. So I mention what happened. Usually the teachers reply to my emails right away, but as of current, they haven't. So, now I'm a bit concerned that when I pick up the kids at school today, they'll have CPS there waiting for me.
I think for the rest of the week, in an effort to not go over my quota of screw-ups, I'm going to live in a corner of my house. I'm going to just be very still and not jack up anymore. It's only Tuesday. This could get interesting.
I'm off to buy a new book so I can finish it and give it back without the shame of being washed in toilet water. And then I'm going to call my lawyer and put him on standby about the whole hand washing mishap.
That's how I roll.
