I see your package of oatmeal and raise you three Band-Aids

Another day of vacation.  Another day of rain. 

We may have had to postpone our plans to go tubing on the river, but we were definitely not willing to let a little thunder and lightning ruin our fun.  Instead of tubing on the river, we set out on a rainy adventure in the little historic village of Blue Ridge where we sampled the fudge and cheese in every shop that sold fudge and cheese. 

This evening we actually managed to make s’mores on the fire.  And we played another rousing game of poker.  The kids are convinced they are ready to storm Las Vegas and break the bank.  This is after playing with real poker chips and modified betting rules.  Instead of keeping track of actual dollar amounts, we are calculating the bets by chip color.  So the bets sound a little like this…

“I’ll see your three green and raise you two blue and a red.”

“I don’t have any red.”

“Ok…I’ll raise you three blue, four more greens and a black.”

“Ok.  I’ll see your bet.  I call.”

“I win.  I have three pair!”

“You can’t have three pair!”

And this is how it goes all evening.  They have actually played fairly well.  They managed to bankrupt both me and my husband.  I think the trick is a sense of fearlessness in the betting.  It’s easy to bluff when you have to ask after every other hand if you won. 

It reminds me of a trip I took with my family when I was a teenager.  We were in a hotel room in San Francisco, California playing poker with oatmeal packets and Band-Aids.  It was five card draw back then.  But I’m sure my sister and I weren’t the card sharks my kids have become.  We just may have to take our next vacation in Las Vegas. 

But we still have one more day and night in this vacation, and I’m inclined to enjoy every minute of it. 

Until the next time…I’ll be sleeping with the balcony doors open to listen to nature.

ok…that’s gonna leave a mark

I now have proof positive that relaxation is not a cure for clumsy.  I had high hopes, but it’s time I face the facts.  Even in the quiet, simplified world of the country, I have managed to fall down the stairs.  Not to worry, I waited until I was almost at the bottom, and I held on to the railing even after losing my footing to keep me from catastrophe.  I managed to escape with only a nasty bruise on my forearm from the banister.  Thanks to that bruise, I will remember my vacation for weeks to come!

And what a vacation it is…

After a slightly bumpy start, it seems that the vacation in the woods is turning out to be a great success.  After a morning spent arguing, the children have settled into the simple life just splendidly.  We’ve had a lot of rain, so there has been no campfire.  And no campfire means no s’mores.  But we still have two days and nights left in our vacation, so I can still dream!

I have added more pictures to the gallery, I hope you like them. 

I’m going to hit the sheets and listen to the distant thunder rumble.  I think this might just be the best vacation ever!  I might even want to stay here forever.  Well…maybe not here, but somewhere like it.

I just need to be sure to rent a cabin with fewer stairs next time.

Until the next time…I’ll be getting some ice.

and I thought the bugs were big at home!

Ah the mountains!

It was an interesting first day. 

The cabin is spectacular.  The view is magnificent.  The children are…not arguing. 

The kids (if I can still get away with calling them that) had a great first day at the cabin.  They were sufficiently thrilled that there is a regulation pool table, arcade games, five flat screen TVs, poker table, video game consoles, and a six person hot tub. 

The hot tub was enjoyed by everyone but the parents.

The kids and I played a few rounds of Texas Hold’em, and a rousing game of Scattergories—I won again!  My reputation as the Scattergories champion is still intact!

Mike and I spent the rest of our first day settling in and just enjoying the view.  We took pictures (which I will be adding to the member’s only gallery page tomorrow) we grilled burgers on the gas grill (Mike didn’t eat burgers for those of you that are paying attention) and we made two grocery store runs. 

After the sun went down, the rain started, and I have to tell you, I have no complaints about listening to the rain fall in the trees.  I have the doors open to my balcony, and I’m letting the cool damp air (and several hundred bugs I’m sure) blow into the room.  Don’t worry…I coated my skin in all natural bug repellent!

If this doesn’t relax me, I’m doomed! 

Until the next time…I’ll be relaxing!

I really should have packed by now

I love that I write a blog. 

And I love that you love reading my blog. 

And I just absolutely love when I have a day that’s so great I actually start writing my blog before the sun goes down. 

Today is a day like that.  My heart is by no means acting quite right just yet, and my blood pressure is still topping out the charts in the worst kind of way, but my spirits are high and not just because I’m on so many different drugs! 

It’s the day before our first family vacation in what seems like years. 

I am excited about playing games with my kids like I did when they were children.  I’m excited about bear hunting (from the safety of our raised deck.) I’m excited about everyone getting along and having fun.  I’m excited about being away from home for an entire week (or most of one anyway) to relax in the middle of nature. 

I may be a bit premature in my excitement. 

My kids are arguing already.  The reasons are as unimportant as the arguments themselves.  Suffice it to say they seem to always find a reason when they are all in the same room together.  I am beginning to wonder if my idea of a family vacation in a secluded cabin was crazy. 

Fast forward an hour and everything is (almost) back to normal.  We are teaching the youngest to play Texas Hold’em poker, and my kids are amazed at my poker playing skills.  “It’s the OCD,” I tell them.  “It makes me good at everything.”  I don’t know…that might be a lie…I’m not good at EVERYTHING.  I can’t balance very well at all.  But what’s a little bad balance when there are so many other more important things to worry about?

I suppose I’ll have to get up early to pack in the morning.  At least I did my laundry already.  I am admittedly letting my husband take care of the more stressful details for our trip.  I’m trying to maintain a positive attitude.  Someone told me recently that if I had a positive attitude it could perform miracles.  So I’m trying to use my positive attitude to affect the weather.  Apparently it’s supposed to rain the entire week.  That should make for an interesting “camping” trip.  One week in the mountains…in a cabin…with all the kids…and we won’t be able to go outside.  I’m fairly positive that can’t end well.  Then again…you never know…I might just be able to change the weather with my positive thinking!

Until the next time…I’ll be thinking positive that my suitcase will pack itself! 

deep reflection

I’m not sure how I feel about deep thought.  Some would argue that deep thought is one of the defining qualities of an intelligent mind.  Deep though = deep thinker.  But what about those times when deep thought just equals disaster?  Isn’t it possible to think too much?  To over-think a situation to the point of creating problems where problems don’t exist?  I know I’m good at that.  Too much thought creates too much stress.  And I’m de-stressing my life right now.  I shouldn’t be thinking about certain things. 

Especially not these sorts of things…

I was in Target this evening looking for things for our trip when I took a wrong turn and ended up in the baby aisle.  I just had to stop and touch the little baby sleepers.  As I held the tiny garment between my fingers, my mind wandered down that road that we women travel when in the vicinity of all things baby…I thought about having another one.  I’m not THAT old after all.  But as it turns out, maybe I am that old.  I had to face the fact that the next time there is a new baby in my family it will likely be a grandchild.  And that was a sobering fact.  Not that any of my children are remotely ready for children—they are most definitely not.  I hope they are reading this too.  No grandchildren yet!  But it doesn’t look like I will be having any more babies.  Ever.  I guess I’ll have to just look into getting that puppy I was talking about. 

Once the requisite mourning period is over, of course. 

So speaking of waiting periods…how long should I mourn my poor old doggy before shopping the internet for a new puppy?  Was yesterday too soon?  I didn’t buy anything.  I was just looking.  I decided that if I’m going to venture into puppy ownership I should do a little research first.  Maybe I should find a dog that has all of the good qualities of my existing dogs, but none of the bad ones.  As much as we all miss her, Lady had some pretty bad qualities, and Cybil has a few of her own.  Joey doesn’t really have that many bad qualities if you don’t count wandering around on the roof, or hurdling a six foot fence in a single bound.  Maybe I could combine all of the good things to search for one new dog built out of all the things l loved about the three I had. 

I’m torn between a Saint Bernard and an English Mastiff.  Of course, much like the baby, I won’t be getting either anytime soon.  My husband is determined to take a break from the pack and just live with a few less dogs for a while.  Simplicity.  That’s what he’s looking for. 

So from now on I’m trying to work on simplifying things.  Operation Simplify.  It has a nice ring to it.  Let’s see how long I can keep it up…I’m not really sure if I can make it past this weekend.  But we’ll see.

Until the next time…I’ll be doing laundry…vacation in two more days!

whatever happened to “just say no”?

I slept all day.

It was a different kind of sleep.  It was that deep coma, “dead to the world” sort of sleep.   My favorite kind.  The doctor put me on new meds, and when I laid down to rest, I was almost immediately out.  And I was out all day.  I can’t really say I had any complaints.  I needed the rest, and it felt really good. 

But all good things have to end, and I had to wake up for dinner. 

My husband cooked for me.  It was an experimental dish using the homemade ricotta cheese he made from raw cow’s milk.  For more info on the cheese, check out his blog at http://www.suburbhomesteader.com

I’m not sure if it was the cheese or the hunger, but I ate every bite. 

An hour later, I’m still sort of hungry.  The good news is I haven’t eaten anything really bad for me in several days.  The bad news is I haven’t done much that puts me in the vicinity of anything remotely bad for me.  Oh well…there’s always tomorrow.  That is if I even wake up tomorrow…these new meds are pretty potent. 

I’m not oblivious to the irony.  I never experimented with drugs in my youth.  I always held to the belief that drugs were bad for me.  And I would not cave to peer pressure.  And now here I am caving to the whims of the doctors experimenting on me with drugs.  Oh how things change! 

Until the next time…I’ll be dead to the world…but definitely not dead!

and the quest begins

Stress is like an infestation of fire ants inside the walls of your house.  Just when you think you’ve gotten rid of them in your kitchen, you discover them climbing up the wall in your bathroom.  They are almost impossible to completely eradicate unless you spend every free moment trying to discover the source. 

Where is my source?

That’s what I have to ask myself. 

I am sleep deprived.  I would love to blame that fact on some simple reason, like I don’t go to bed early enough.  That has been true enough in the past.  But the fact remains that I don’t sleep any better when I go to bed early than I do when I go to bed late.  I feel less rested when I take something to “help” me sleep, in fact, I feel as if I’ve been running in a maze the next morning from all the freakish dreams the medicines create.  So I’m on a mission to discover how to sleep again.  As my mother has reminded me, I used to sleep so heavily that a bomb detonating beside my bed would scarcely wake me.  And now I’m awakened if a bird flaps his wings in a tree outside my window.

But sleep can’t be all of it, right?  I’ve been sleep deprived before and not stressed.  I’ve been sleep deprived and not had high blood pressure.  So sleep cannot be the only source. 

I have teenagers.  Enough said there.  But again, I’ve had teenagers for a few years now, and that hasn’t driven me to the cardiologist before.  So as much as I would like to blame at least a few of my children…I can’t name them as the source.

My job is very stressful.  There are so many things to do and so little time.  There is an element of being pulled in twenty different directions all at the same time, and everything has the same priority.  High!  So I ask myself, have things changed in the three years I’ve been doing this same job?  Or have things changed in the seven years I’ve been with the bank?  Probably.  And I’ve always weathered the changes like a pro.  I’ve bounced back and kept on going.  So could my job be the source now?  I suppose it could be.  But there are too many factors to measure for me to know for sure.

I would love to blame alcohol.  I would love to sit here and say, “It’s the beer!  That’s the reason!  If it weren’t for the beer everything would be fine.”  But anyone who knows me knows I don’t really drink, and I NEVER drink beer.  Yuck! So how could that be any part of the source? 

All I know is…I have an infestation of stress and like those fire ants, it’s burning its way across my skin. 

I need an exterminator.  I think I’ll get right on that.

Until the next time…I’ll still be counting the days until vacation.

good advice is meant to be taken

Exhausting day.

I could blog on and on about this day, but honestly it’s just too exhausting to go back over it, so I’ll have to save it for another day.  I’ll just go over the highlights for you instead.

I woke up with swollen puffy eyes after writing last night’s blog.  I can’t even read it again without tearing up.  I now believe that dogs can cry too.  I’m certain Cybil was crying over her lost friend.

Despite the grief, I made it to work without a hitch, and I was the only banker on staff today, so I was very busy.  I didn’t get lunch or even a restroom break all day, so I didn’t feel at all guilty that I left a little early for a doctor’s appointment. 

I spent a long visit with my new favorite doctor (a special thanks to my sister for her diligent attention to detail when choosing physicians) and three hours later I was stocked up with three more prescriptions, and a little good advice. 

The best thing about good advice is you can decide on your own if you’re going to take it or not.  I think I’ll take it tonight, and get a little extra sleep.  I’m sure you will forgive me for phoning it in tonight.  I will make up for it next week while I’m on vacation.  There will be bears in them there woods…and I will be on a quest to find one. 

Until the next time…I’ll be counting down the days!

she was a sweet old lady

I have often joked about my geriatric Labradors and their imminent “one way trip.”  That day the pearly gates of heaven would open up and welcome them with open arms (or paws as the case may be.)  I have poked fun at the dementia and the incontinence.  Making the comparison to a cranky old grandma shouting at her insolent grandchildren to “turn down that racket!” as our old Labrador Lady would bark at the cats, or the puppy, or the wind.  And I’ve often kidded about my husband keeping a tick mark on the calendar to mark each day of the doggy death march, until the one glorious day that we would not have these geriatric, incontinent, dementia plagued, cat box picking, bread stealing, noise making dogs.  I didn’t mean it.  I really didn’t.  And neither did my husband.

He had to take Lady to the vet today—my husband, who never really felt as though he was overly invested in my old dogs.  They were never really his.  He was just the one who got stuck cleaning behind them or shopping for their expensive, grain-free dog food.  He only complained a little.  He accepted that when we got married he got me, the kids, and the dogs—a package deal.  So today the deal…the package deal…came with a somber responsibility.  Our much maligned Labrador—the one who somehow learned to smile with all of her teeth, like some dog version of the Phantom of the Opera, like some snarling vicious animal, smiling for nothing more than whatever bit of attention she could garner—was sick.  The kind of sick that you can’t treat with a pill or a shot.  It was the kind of sick you can’t cure. 

My husband—the man who claimed he didn’t like this dog—shed a tear for Lady.  It was the hardest thing he ever had to do, letting the vet take my dog on her final “one way trip”.  It didn’t happen the way we had planned it.  It wasn’t an easy decision, or one taken lightly, but it was the right decision to make under the circumstances. 

Everyone at our house cried for Lady.  We were all sad to see her go.  All of us.  Even the other dogs miss her already.  I think we will all miss the middle of the night pokes with her paw.  We will all miss her irritating barking at the back door to go out, and then barking on the other side of the same door to come back in the minute she was out there.  We will miss her ridiculous snarly smile, the one that terrified neighbors and repairmen alike.  We will even miss her horrible snoring, and wretched dog farts. 

It’s almost funny how you don’t realize how attached you are to a pet until they aren’t there to pee on your floor, or chew your best shoes, or drag cat litter through your house, or steal the last loaf of bread from the counter, or drool down your leg while you’re watching TV, or wake you up in the middle of the night to go out when they don’t even have to go.  Somehow you don’t mind any of those things in retrospect.  It’s more like losing a member of the family—that cranky old grandmother that you joking called “the old bitch,” but really loved a whole lot.    

My other old Labrador, Cybil is lying on the floor by my bed.  She knows that her old friend is gone.  They were like the Golden Girls, waiting out their old age together.  Now Cybil is the old lady of the house.  I’ll be sure to give her the respect she deserves with that new title.  And I won’t even complain when I step in cold dog pee in the middle of the night.  Not for a while anyway.  After all…life is too short to cry over spilled pee…or something like that.

Until the next time…I’ll be appreciating my incontinent old Lab while she’s around.  I might even give her a loaf of bread…for old time sake…

leave it to the beaver

Day two of my crappy health food diet.

What is wrong with Taco Bell anyway?  If I had gotten a chicken quesadilla, that would have been fairly balanced and healthy right?  It’s just cheese and chicken and some sauce on a very thin bread-type thing…right? 

Apparently not.  My husband is not letting me eat such things as fast food.  But the smell is intoxicating!  And it’s not just Taco Bell either.  They got McDonald’s at work today and asked me if I wanted some.  Did I want some?  Well, hell yeah I wanted some.  Was I allowed to have any?  Hell no, I wasn’t allowed to have any.  I was just forced to smell it while I ate my egg salad on wheat.  With a side of banana chips and a cup of ice water. 

So why don’t I feel healthier already?

I drove past a beaver on the side of the road today.  He was just grazing on something someone tossed out of their window onto the side of the road—French fries was my first guess—and I found myself envying that beaver.  He could eat anything he wanted.  He could eat rocks and dirt and overgrown grass and even half eaten French fries if he felt like it and no one would tell him he was going to screw with his blood pressure.  And why is that do you think?  I mean, besides the fact that animals don’t actually talk…the reason this beaver didn’t have to worry about anyone talking about his high blood pressure is because he has a very relaxing life.  He just wanders the side of the busy road without a care in the world.  Why can’t I be like that?  Why can’t I just wander the side of the road and eat discarded French fries? 

Because that’s really gross…that’s why!

I went back to driving and tried to focus on the fact that I would probably see that same beaver when I came back through, totally flattened because he got too close to the road, because eating dirty fries on the side of the road is dangerous to your health!  That beaver didn’t have to worry about heart disease because he wouldn’t live long enough to have high blood pressure. 

Well…maybe for one very brief and horrifying moment, and then it would be all over.

I’m very lucky to have friends and family that watch out for me, and scold me when I try to scavenge unhealthy foods from fast food death traps.  I’m very lucky that my husband won’t let me eat Taco Bell or McDonald’s.  I’m very lucky that I’m not a road kill beaver tonight.  Because things could have totally worked out differently in my life and I might have been born a beaver instead of a smart, beautiful, well-fed woman.  A woman with a very popular daily blog to write every night.   

And that would have been way worse than eating boring egg salad on wheat with banana chips and plain water.  Way worse!

Until the next time…I’ll be smiling the next time I eat my banana chips!

just a bit of good advice

Never give a dog a bath in the back yard.  Even on a sunny day.  They will always find the closest pile of dried red clay to roll in.  This is much harder to wash out than any dirt that was on the dog prior to the bath.  Oh, and red clay stains everything.  Including the dog.  And the inside of the shower.

Never play ball in the yard with a wet dog, especially if there is still a muddy spot anywhere for them to drop the ball into.  They love this and will always bring the muddy ball immediately back to you and drop it in your lap!

Never announce to the world (while in the grocery store, specifically) that your jeans are dirty because the dogs kept putting their dirty balls on you.  People will always misconstrue this statement to mean something entirely different!  I know this from experience. 

Never say, “Maybe” to a teenager.  In their native language, this is translated directly into, “Absolutely! Why didn’t I think of that?”

Never assume that half of a sleeping pill will only make you half as sleepy—or drool half as much.  For some strange reason, cutting it in half makes it twice as dangerous.  You will still feel hung-over in the morning, and you will probably wear your shirt inside out in addition to your underwear. (Trust me on this one!)

Never agree to taste something that someone else has rejected as being “gross”.  This is never a good idea.  Always take their word for it, just in case.  This may mean the kids will get away with not eating something you wanted them to eat, but it may just save you from tasting something that should never be tasted.

Never wash your sheets on a rainy day.  This will almost always ensure that the dogs will jump on your bed with muddy feet.

Never put the cat box over a heating vent.  This should be fairly self explanatory, and yet, somehow escaped scrutiny until far too late!

More good advice…

Always double check your underwear before leaving the house.  This should be done more than once if possible, especially when you have to go to the doctor.  Somehow underwear can flip prior to putting pants on.

Always hide the chocolate in the freezer behind the frozen turkey burgers and green vegetables.  This is the absolute last place the children will look for something good to eat.  It is also a good practice to save the empty turkey burger boxes to fill with frozen delights. 

Always color-code your clothing to match the food you will eat that day.  Law of nature promises that any red sauce will always find the front of any brand new light colored blouse, permanently ruining it.  Red sauce never drips onto a dark colored blouse.  This has been scientifically proven!

Always keep a pack of gum in your purse to chew immediately after eating chocolate of any kind.  This should also be chewed after eating hamburgers and/or french fries.  Most men can immediately detect these foods on your breath and will catch you in the act of cheating on your diet.  Menthol cough drops will also work for this purpose.

Always use customized ring tones for friends and family.  You will be able to tell immediately if this call should be answered (your mother) or ignored (your ex-husband). 

Always buy toilet paper when at the grocery store.  Even if you don’t think you need it.  You always need it.  And you will always forget to buy it when you REALLY need it.  So just get in the habit of getting some every time.  If you don’t, you will be begging your husband to go back to the store at ten-thirty on a Sunday night because you ate way too many baked beans with your blueberry and pomegranate health food juice for dinner!  Not that this has ever happened to me…I’m just saying.

Always remember to set your alarm before going to bed.  Be sure to make sure you have checked the am/pm setting to be sure the alarm will go off in the morning.  Also be sure you have selected the on/off setting to on.  This is especially important on a Sunday night.

Always share the daily blog with all your friends! 

You didn’t think I’d miss a chance to remind everyone did you?

Until the next time…I’ll be going to bed way before eleven so I can wake up and go to work in the morning. 

revenge of the sadistic husband

Day one of my horrible new diet.

No beef.  No salt.  No sugar.  No fat.  No food worthy of human consumption at all! Does he actually think I can go from eating hamburgers, and salty chips, and cookies, to eating vegetarian organic bunny food?  Is he serious? 

It’s almost eleven o’clock at night, and I’m hungry.  I’ve had nothing but banana chips to snack on, and they may be ok, but potato chips they are not! 

I don’t even eat that many potato chips really.  And I’m not big on hamburgers for that matter.  But take them away from me and what do you think I crave?  A big fat greasy cheeseburger and salty fries with lots of ketchup, and a chocolate milk shake—that’s what! 

And to top that off, I’m now under house arrest—as in I have an eleven pm bedtime.  That gives me exactly twelve minutes to finish my blog and log off the computer before he confiscates my laptop!  This is like Marshall Law or something!  Can he even do that? 

I’m pretty sure he can.  I’m too tired to argue with him.  And he’s probably right, but don’t tell him I said so.  I took my blood pressure before settling down and it’s still pretty high.  My head sort of feels like it might explode, and I’m pretty tired.  And this was after eating good food all day. 

The good news is, my bed has fresh sheets and pillow cases, my dogs have all been bathed and groomed, and smell positively divine (thanks to my sadistic food dictator of a husband) and I’m in my jammies listening to the frogs in the cool night air.  I love these early summer nights when you can sleep with the windows open without roasting, and you can listen to the soothing sounds of nature.   

And the sound of fireworks coming from the neighbors down the street.  Someone just graduated from high school.  So much for the sounds of nature.  Maybe I need to rethink those sleeping pills the doctor offered.

Until the next time…I’ll be falling asleep to a nature CD!

the blog must go on!

Much thanks to my husband for writing my blog for me last night.  I appreciate him keeping the torch going while I was unable to focus my thoughts in a single direction.  That’s not to say that I was quiet while he wrote.  I did shout out sentences I wanted him to include.  So again, thank you to him for not telling me to shut up or write it myself. 

You may not be aware that my husband writes a blog too.  It’s a fairly new one, and I would like to take a little of the credit (because I told him he should do it) but the truth is, he writes it all himself with no help from me.  He spends so much time in our garden, and he’s so devoted to the concept of “growing your own food” that I figured he should share that with the world.  I’m pretty glad he does.  You should check him out at http://www.suburbhomesteader.com.

Now that I’ve thanked my husband, I can tell you that I’m not speaking to him.  In fact, I’m pretty upset with him.  He won’t let me have ice cream, or hamburgers, or chips, or anything else that I wanted to eat tonight.  He said my blood pressure is too high for those things.  According to the charts, I’m only a tick or two away from the emergency room.  But I say…so what?  I still want my yummy foods!  So I pout.  Because that’s what we do when we don’t get our way, right?   Its traditional behavior that goes way back…all the way back to diapers I think.  I want good things to eat.  I don’t want things that are good for me.  This is the first day in over a week that I’m not on any medication.  And I’ve managed to get my appetite back, and it’s screaming for pizza!

You heard me right.  No medication for me.  I went to the cardiologist today, and he decided to take me off all of the high blood pressure medication that makes me behave like “Night of the Living Dead,” and just leave me untreated.  I don’t think that makes sense, but I’m not a doctor.  Instead he has me scheduled for more tests—probably to figure out if my high blood pressure is real or if I made it up or something.  I’m fairly creative, I’ll give you that…but I’m not THAT creative.  I think they just don’t know what to give someone that can’t tolerate the drugs normal people take.  Could it be that I’m the only woman over the age of thirty-five who has never dabbled in illegal drugs and therefore has absolutely no tolerance for the medically required sort?  I don’t think that’s possible, but I’m not sure…I think I should investigate further. 

But not until I’ve had something to eat.

I have to fast after midnight because I’m having blood work done in the morning.  The “let’s check everything…just in case,” kind of blood work that doctors seem to run every time you come down with something that penicillin can’t cure.  (Side note: Do they even prescribe straight penicillin anymore?)

I found a ripe banana and some sugar free ice cream in the freezer (it was only a little freezer burned) so I made a banana split without any of the delicious toppings.  I just had to pretend.  I’m good at pretending too. I’m just not great at relaxing apparently.  Or sleeping.

The doctor told me I need to get more sleep.  Can you believe that?  I even told him I write a daily blog and I have to stay up to get it finished every night.  He told me I need to forget the blog and get my rest.  Doctors are so stupid sometimes.  I’ll give up hamburgers before I give up my daily blog.  And if I have to I’ll give up pizza.  And salty chips.  You get the picture.  There’s a lot I’ll do for my health, but I’m not giving up the daily blog. 

And you can say you heard that here!

Until the next time…I’ll be back to counting sheep to fall asleep now that I’m off the drugs!

attack of the zombie blogger

Due to an acute case of “zombie-itis,” Erica will be unable to write the daily blog this evening.  We are certain she will live to ravage our brains another night, but tonight, she needs her rest.  In her place, I will be bringing you up to date on the exploits of our favorite zombie blogger. 

How does one contract “zombie-itis” you ask?  It would seem that finding the correct medicine and the correct dosage is more complicated than originally thought.  After several days of trial and error, we are still plagued with an itchy rash, and a horrible case of the “walking undead”.  Erica has been dragging herself around the house, and even to work in what can only be described as a trancelike state.   As you can imagine, this is almost comical in a woman who has a hard time remaining upright when completely sober.   She has managed to keep enough of her wits about her to know that she can’t get behind the wheel of a car, and even the microwave is too much like “operating heavy machinery” for her to handle.  The kids have taken to doing her favors, such as burning a bag of popcorn for her, because that’s the way she likes it, and doing all the driving so she can pass out in the passenger seat or better yet, stay at home in the bed. 

But being in a zombie state hasn’t prevented her from passing out instructions to her loved ones. 

One of the first instructions she gave me before finding herself temporarily incapacitated was to write the blog.  “No matter what happens,” she made me promise, “you need to write the blog.”  So, here I am, writing the blog against my better judgment.   I told her she just needed to hang up a sign that says, “gone fishing” but she won’t hear of it.  Her readers are too important to her.  She loves her blog, and because I love her, I’m doing what my honey asks of me.

Like the lady says:

”Until the next time…”

Let’s hope she’s awake enough to do this herself!

how do they get the fortune inside the cookie anyway?

Today was my day off—my favorite day of the week.  And as days off go, it was a good one.  A great day off even.  I did have to be dragged out of bed around nine thirty because the “super” antihistamine had not quite worn off after twelve hours.  But the good news was I was able to walk on my own by then.  I wasn’t necessarily happy about it.  I would have gladly slept for a few more hours, but it wasn’t in the cards today.

My daughter was forced to administer a bit of the “tough love” she must have learned from one of her teenager TV shows, and she forced me to leave the house for a little shopping expedition.  I knew what this “really” was.  I’m a smart cookie.  This was a ploy to get me out in the fresh air.  For my own good.  She wasn’t the least bit interested in shopping!

Right.  I haven’t had THAT much antihistamine in my system!

We spent a little time, and a little more money, and had a nice afternoon.  I felt more relaxed than I had in days.  I didn’t even mind taking her to a friend’s house.  Or having dinner on my own, because everyone else was otherwise engaged.  It happens! 

I decided to get Chinese food.  I will take advantage of any excuse to eat out, as you know.  Still, I tried to eat as healthy as possible.  I had steamed rice instead of fried.  And I picked the least fried chicken dish.  It was ok, as healthy Chinese food goes.  As usual, my favorite part of the meal was the fortune cookie.  And my fortune was an especially good one.  It said that, “business and health matters will improve around you.”

And they had better…I have that in writing!

As for my health, I still itch.  But considering the fact that the alternative was akin to being turned into a zombie, I’ve decided I don’t mind the itch that much after all.  I may change my mind somewhere around the middle of the night, but as for now, I’m good.  I’m still a little groggy from last night’s dose. 

I’m not a fan of medicine.  I suppose that’s why I never dabbled in drugs.  Of course, it would appear I’m making up for it by dabbling in blood pressure medications.  I’m trying a new one tonight.  Hopefully I won’t breakout from this one.  We’ll see. After all, health matters will improve around me.  The fortune cookie told me so!

Until the next time…I’ll be framing my fortune!

take two hallucinogenic drugs and call me in the morning

I went back to the doctor today to get a new medicine.  I am apparently in the minority of people who are allergic to the one I was taking.  The doctor was concerned about the allergic reaction and decided that it would be prudent to put me on another drug to combat the wonderful rash and wheezing that one develops when allergic to a medication. I was all for that idea, as I was still itching like crazy. 

Crazy being the operative word of the day. 

I was so completely overcome by this allergy combatant that I was afraid my reaction was abnormal.  I managed to drag myself upright around eight-thirty this evening to call the pharmacist to see if I could be having another allergic reaction to the allergy medicine.  She assured me that my reaction was within the guidelines of “normal” for this medication. 

Normal?  It would seem to me that it would be more like…illegal.  I’ve never taken LSD or any other illegal drug before (can you even imagine me on illegal drugs?  Please!) but I am fairly certain that this “histamine blocker” is on par with almost anything you would find on the streets!  Histamine must be the part of you that keeps you sane and rational, because the minute they were blocking my histamine, I started having hallucinations and dreams that, if I was able to, I would have written down and would have probably made millions once Johnny Depp stared in the film adaptation.  Basically, I’ve been down that rabbit hole, and it is a scary, scary place! 

More than a full eight hours after having taken this “antihistamine” (if that’s what it really is), I am finally of a lucid enough state to write my blog.  And lucid is somewhat of a stretch.  My husband said I would be BUI—blogging under the influence.

I have come to the realization that this drug must have been around since the time of Edgar Allen Poe and Lewis Carroll, and they were both fans.   It is also completely obvious to me that when Poe wrote “the Raven” it was after taking my medicine. The worst part is that I’m supposed to take this medicine four times a day for the next week. I was unconscious through the second dose, and I’m almost afraid to take the next one.  My only reason for even considering it is that I would like to see how that bizarre dream I was having will end. 

But, alas…as soon as I was able to pull myself out of the bed and into a semi-conscious state, I realized that I still itched.  I don’t think this medicine really does anything to rid you of the itch.  I think it just makes you forget you have skin at all, let alone itchy skin.  But, despite my better judgment, I took my next dose as prescribed.  I expect the countdown to unconsciousness to start fairly rapidly. 

And because I know you would enjoy this…I’ve asked my husband to chronicle my exploits in “dreamland” for your reading pleasure!  He’ll be sure you’re kept up to speed if I do anything funny while under the influence. 

Until the next time…I’ll be having tea with the Hatter and the Hare!

I might just have to play the lottery tonight

I broke a glass today.  Not on purpose.  It was definitely an accident.  But I smashed it to smithereens.  Bits of glass scattered everywhere.  I think I found all of it.  I certainly hope so or I will find it later with my bare feet.  This is me we’re talking about after all. 

The thing is…people break glasses all the time.  There is absolutely nothing unique about that fact.  But I have reason to believe that, when I broke that particular glass, it may have been good luck. 

I needed a stroke of good luck, let’s face it…I’ve had some pretty crappy luck lately.  If you believe in those things. 

So, it wasn’t more than an hour after breaking the glass that my husband convinced me to go shoe shopping again.  He wanted me to find a pair of comfortable walking shoes so we can take long walks in the park together. 

We all know how I feel about shoe shopping.  It is an exercise in futility, and horribly discouraging on top of that, but there I was, piling into the car to head to the shoe store for another depressing go at the shoe game.

Amazingly, I didn’t find this trip so depressing.  I actually found two pair of very cute sandals that fit, and they didn’t even hurt my feet.  They did make me stand about six feet two inches tall—easily four inches taller than my husband—so I didn’t buy them.  But I was bolstered by the fact that I actually found shoes that fit. 

My husband stayed in the athletic shoe section of the store, shopping for himself.  And I think, secretly he was looking for walking shoes for me.

I continued to try on dressy sandals, many of which did not fit, but I reminded myself that there were two pair that most certainly did.  I held on to that fact as I pulled box after box off the shelves to try them on. 

A short while later I found another pair that fit.  Also very cute—probably not very comfortable after a long day at the office—but what I had to remember was, this was not the total loss that every other recent trip to the shoe store had been.  How exciting this shoe shopping expedition had become!

My husband called me over to the athletic section and pointed to the sneakers on the wall. This was not at all exciting.  They were ugly.  All of them.  They were boring, and boxy, and made for men.  The women’s athletic shoes were not comfortable.  I was forced to shop for a man’s shoe.  My husband reminded me that I was not shopping for looks, I was shopping for comfort.  Do men actually believe that crap?  I think they might. 

One of our daughters was with us, and she reminded her father that women are always shopping for looks.  Comfort is an afterthought.  Comfort was actually pretty important to me, but not so important that I could disregard ugly.  I just had to close my eyes and go by feelings.

I sat down on a bench as the two of them shoved shoe after shoe at me to try on. 

The first shoe was too tight.  The next one was too loose.  Another shoe had no arch support, several after that felt like I was wearing a block of wood.  And then one shoe—as much as I hated to admit it (because it was the ugliest shoe I’d ever seen) was not so bad.  It had ample arch support, sufficient cushioning, just enough room in the toes, didn’t rub my ankles, and I couldn’t find anything reasonable to complain about them.  I tried.  They were really ugly, but amazingly, they were comfortable. 

My husband smiled in victory, and told me to wear them out of the store.  He wasn’t fooling me.  I knew he wanted me to wear them out of the store so I couldn’t bring them back later.  I guess I have a pair of walking shoes now.  I suppose that means I’ll be expected to walk at the park with him in the evenings.  There are worse things, I think.  I’ll have to get back to you on that.

I’m thinking maybe I should break a glass every morning before I leave the house.  It could get expensive, but if it works, it would be worth it.  I’m definitely going to break a glass tomorrow.  I have a doctor’s appointment in the morning.  I’m not taking any chances!

Until the next time…I’ll be stocking up on cheap drinking glasses and lottery tickets!

some days I just want my mommy

Whatever happened to the perks of getting sick?  Like the unlimited supply of ice cream and bedtime stories?  Honest…I’m not complaining.  I actually had a little ice cream tonight.  I guess I just get a little nostalgic when I don’t feel good. 

I miss the sound of a vaporizer.  The old fashioned humidifier that my mother used when we had a bad cold.  She would put it on the floor beside my bed and it made this soothing, purring sound that would lull me to sleep.  I’m not sure if there is anything else out there that makes the exact same sound.  Not the electronic buzz of laptops, ceiling fans, and cell phones.  Definitely not my geriatric dog and her loud snoring.   But it is a comforting memory that I can almost pull close enough to hear.  I’ll be focusing on that tonight as I try to fall asleep. 

As for now, another Sunday is almost at a close, and another full week of work is looming in the very imminent future.  I’ll be grasping onto my memory of the humming vaporizer to calm me. 

My weekend wasn’t exactly stellar.  Not that I expect every weekend to be activity filled or restful.  Some weekends are neither.  Some weekends are just a blip on the radar.  But some weekends actually have you longing for the office, and in my book, that is not a good weekend. 

But good weekend or not, I’m determined to have a restful Sunday night.  After all, the best part about having a crappy weekend is that it only lasts for two days.  I get to have a brand new one next week! And my Sunday evening was shaping up to be pretty nice. 

So as it turns out, even a horrible weekend can have a happy ending!

Unlike Mother’s Day, this Sunday all of my children elected to come home for dinner and watch a movie with me.  In fact, they demanded I sit in the family room and watch a movie with them.  How could I possibly refuse?  I have no idea how many nights like this I have left.  As in, my kids are growing up fast and soon they won’t be around to spend time with me.  I, on the other hand, plan to be around for fifty or so years to nag them. 

There are still leftover problems from the rest of the weekend.  Things that will have to be worked out during the week, I’m sure.  I still have hives from my medicine.  And I still have the little matter of the reason I’m taking the medicine to begin with.  These things aren’t likely to go away anytime soon.  But I’m not going to worry about that tonight.  I need to focus on getting a good night sleep, and remembering to set my alarm.  Not necessarily in that order.  And if the opportunity arises, I might just talk to my husband.  I won’t be holding my breath.  That probably isn’t good for me.  And I’m all about doing what’s good for me.  From now on anyway.

Until the next time…I’ll be dreaming about my imaginary vaporizer!

karma may be a bitch, but she’s also one of my best friends.

I am a grouch.  There is no other explanation for my attitude today.  I find myself getting irritated about everything.  Especially the grocery store—they always offer to take your groceries out to the car for you.  Always.  Except for the one night when I’m alone…at night…and I buy a forty pound bag of dog food. That’s right.  Tonight.  

But the grocery store was just the most recent of my frustrations.  I’ve been a grouch all day.  I think I may have been a grouch in my sleep.  Right from the moment the clock struck twelve and today began.  I know I was a grouch when I rolled out of bed.  Late.

I overslept. 

My alarm didn’t go off.  Somehow I managed to turn it off instead of turning it on.  I have no one to blame but myself for that.  I know this.  But the knowledge didn’t make me feel better in the least. 

While I was at work, my husband left to go out of town.  Again.  And grouch that I am…I found myself irritated that he left me here alone.  I do actually recognize the selfishness in that sentiment.  Which is why I am completely convinced that I am just a grouch. 

This grouchiness has apparently brought about a serious dose of bad karma.  I have developed a case of hives, likely from my medicine, which probably means that I’m allergic.  Of course, I can’t find out until Monday, so I’m going to itch until then. 

Being itchy makes me even more grouchy. 

So…right after work…with no one to share the day with, I went shopping.  Scratching, as I made my way around the store looking for something new to wear.  I wasn’t in the mood to shop for shoes.  What a horrible excursion that would be.  I just wanted to find a new blouse. 

I found several.  Unfortunately, I got mad at the rude girl in the changing room, so I decided to leave and never shop there again.  I suppose I will actually shop there again, once my grouchy day is far behind me.

When shopping didn’t work out I decided I would get a massage and a pedicure.  Two things certain to pull a grouch out of her funk.  It didn’t quite do the trick, but it was close.  So to seal the deal, I took myself to the theater to see a romantic comedy.  By the time I left, I was almost human again.  But then I decided to run to the grocery store for dog food and cookies. 

They were out of my favorite (non Girl Scout) cookies which immediately set me back a few steps.  There was a sale on dog food, so it was a wash.  Until I got to the check out.  I expected some strapping young boy to offer to take my bags out to the car for me. They always do.  I’ve never had to ask. 

Tonight, there were no boys standing at the checkout.  Tonight no one asked if I needed help with my bags.  Tonight I had a forty pound bag of dog food in the cart.

I wheeled my own cart to the car and lugged the dog food into the trunk where I discovered the tent the kids were supposed to have folded up and put away.  It was just wadded up, taking up much of the space in the trunk.  The dog food had to ride shotgun. 

I got home and realized that I had forgotten to leave a single light on.  I stumbled my way through the dark garage and into the dark house, with an enormous bag of dog food, and my second favorite cookies.  It was going to be a long night.

Mike was supposed to turn around and come back from Florida to be home in time to snuggle up with me sometime around midnight.  That wasn’t going to work out.  He took a wrong turn on his way there, and ended up in the car for two extra hours.  Only bad karma could have caused this.  I’m not sure if it was his bad karma or mine.  Either way, I’m home alone all night long.  And itchy.

The house is locked up, the dogs are in my bed, my son is upstairs, and my blog is almost finished.  I’m not even going to edit it.  I’m just too grouchy.  I have no choice but to medicate myself with an all night marathon of romantic comedies to try and take the edge off the bad mood.  Who knows…it could work.

Until the next time…I’ll be spending a fortune on pay per view!

maybe I should have brought some earplugs

What is stress? A room full of loud music at a school concert qualifies in my book. I could feel my heart race right after the first few bars played. In fact, my heart was practically jumping up my throat. What was I doing there? I would have asked myself, but I already knew. It was my daughter’s end of school concert, so I couldn’t skip it.  I mean, sure I could have. Her father (my ex husband) would have.  He frequently did, in fact, although not this time.  But that wasn’t my style.  I was the devoted parent. The one who sacrificed my own comfort on a regular basis. So there I sat through several hours of other people’s kids performances while I waited for mine.  It was well worth the wait.  She sang beautifully.  And she played a mean tambourine. 

Nights like this are like magic.  They are worth all the stress, and the temporary hearing damage.  They are even worth having to sit next to your ex husband for several hours.  I think I’ll miss the school concerts when they are a thing of the past.  I may have to go rent someone else’s kids every now and then so I can still sit through long boring concerts just to hear five minutes of my (rental) child’s solo.  I guess that’s why mothers long for grandchildren.  It’s like starting all over again…but without the stress.  I could always have the kids put on a concert in the living room.  That might work for the next few years anyway.

Until the next time…I’ll be ordering a tambourine on ebay.