the little dickens

I am exhausted.  And it’s a different kind of exhausted than the normal kind.  I have bruises on my arms, ice packs on my knees, and blisters on my feet. I have spent almost an entire week moving, and we’re not done yet. 

We had a plan.  It sounded good in theory, but in reality it has not turned out the way we had planned.  Making a hundred little trips over several days is not better than doing it all at once. 

I have said it before, but it bears repeating…I hate moving.  I hate everything about it.  I hate packing, I hate unpacking, and I’m not playing favorites.  I hate them both the same.  I’m not even sure what I hate packing the most—kitchen gadgets, bathroom toiletries, or books.  But Indiana Jones, our 142 pound Mastiff puppy, has his favorite.  He likes books.

He likes Charles Dickens in particular—the entire 200 year old collection of Charles Dickens, in fact. 

I have moved these books everywhere I’ve gone over the past twelve years.  This time, Indy decided he would help me unpack them.  And once he had torn the side from the box, he decided he would broaden his horizons, and he proceeded to enjoy a little Dickens himself.  He enjoyed one book so thoroughly that I had to dig through the shredded pages to find out which volume he had ingested.

In twelve or so hours I will have the most well-read back yard in the neighborhood!

I suppose this just means I will need to start unpacking the boxes as I bring them in if I want to prevent Indy from being so helpful. 

Or maybe I’ll just leave the boxes filled with pots and pans where he can reach them.  And if I leave the cabinets open, maybe he’ll put them away too.

It could happen.

Until the next time…one more day of moving.

 

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.

ten in the bed

My kids used to love the children’s book, “Ten in the Bed.” I think it was a song too.   It was about a bed full of animals and one small child.  The child would tell them to move over and as they did, one would fall out.  The kids used to laugh every time someone fell out of the bed. 

I don’t exactly have ten in the bed, but I definitely need someone to roll over.

Mike and I are tucked into our spacious king size bed and suddenly there is little space for us.  Indy has snuggled up between us and the cats have parked themselves on the pillows.  It is quite comical.  Indy is the size of an adult person, and the cats aren’t exactly tiny.  The only problem is, if anyone rolls over, I’m going to fall out. 

It won’t last long.  As soon as Indy discovers the cats are in the bed, he will pounce on them and give chase.  Ten in the bed will quickly become a Tom and Jerry cartoon as the dog chases the cats through the house, knocking over boxes and lamps. 

I guess the moral of the story is, life is back to normal, for the most part anyway.  We still have a few things to move tomorrow, and then we need to clean up the old house for the new owners.  I think I might be a little sad about that.  But I’m going to put a positive spin on things yet again and say, change is good. 

Let’s face it…change is necessary.  Nothing can stay the same.  The river of life will continue to flow and we will ride it to a new destination.  The trick is to be the captain of your vessel rather than just a bystander.  You have to steer your life in the right direction rather than let it steer you.  I’ve got my wheel, and I know where I’m going. 

And life is good.

Better now that we have the bed to ourselves.

Until the next time…I’m going to ride the river to dreamland for a while.

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.

365 days of blogging

I was one year ago today that I wrote my very first blog post.  Since then, I have written at least one every day.

Imagine writing an essay every day for an entire year.  No days off.  No vacations from writing.  No being too sick or too tired to get it done.  No rest for the weary.  No matter what is happening, or not happening, in your life you must soldier on and write. 

And so I did.

I can’t remember ever being so dedicated to something I didn’t give birth to.  But then again, I do feel as if I have given birth to my blog.  It has become a part of me—from the very first blog to the one I’m writing now.  And so, the daily blog turns one. 

I should have baked a cake.

If my kitchen wasn’t torn apart from moving, I would have done just that.  But instead, in honor of this event, I wore my underwear inside out on purpose.  And I went to get wings at my favorite wing place, the Olde Towne Tavern—the place where the wings are either amazing or horrible, depending on the night.  And in honor of my one year anniversary of blogging, the wings were perfect! 

I have been asked, on many occasions, why I didn’t just take a day off.  Surely I could still blog four days a week as easily as seven.  But I knew if I didn’t write every day that I would slack off.  I needed to hold myself to a higher standard.

So even when I was too sick to write my blog I dictated to my husband what he should say and made him write it.  When I was on vacation I forced myself to take a break from the fun to get my posts in.  And while I’ve been moving this week, I have pushed through the exhaustion to come up with something to say. 

And although there isn’t always something profound to say, it has been an eventful year.

I waxed a pole, discovered my name meant something far different than what I would have expected, flooded my stove, almost set fire to my house (a few times), came to grips with the fact that thanks to my father’s arsenal of weapons I may actually have an FBI file, but also thanks to my father I have nobility in my pedigree, spent months trying to kick my girl scout cookie habit, started several diets that didn’t pan out, found my dog walking around on the roof of the house, adopted a puppy and a ninja kitty, and lost a dear old geriatric Labrador, bought an $80 omelet pan (and returned it for a cheaper one within two hours), found out that sushi has a lot in common with sex, and dongles have nothing at all to do with sex, discovered that the ground hog is truly a sadistic little bastard,  talked about zombies a lot for no reason other than it was fun, had a few trying moments parenting teenagers, and dealing with in-laws and exes, had a year’s worth of book clubs but didn’t read a single book, and let’s not forget that hot pink sweater!

Oh, sure…a lot more than that happened, but I’ll let you go back and read them all if you’d like.  As for me?  I’m really tired.  I’m not done moving yet.  I’m going to bed.

But hey, I’ll be back tomorrow.

Until the next time…I’m still that dancing bear, out here just to entertain you…I hope you still like it!

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.

les incompetents

I don’t know what day of the move we are on—I’ve lost count—but today was, by far, the worst day.  Mike was off, so we decided to tackle the really hard stuff…the appliances. 

 The first load consisted of a few dressers and the work bench in the garage. 

I really did try to help. I just don’t have the upper body strength of a man.  And it was really cold today.  My hands were too cold to grip things. 

My husband called me incompetent to move things. 

I suppose my feelings were hurt at first.  I mean, I have actually moved quite a bit so far.  I have packed things in baskets, small boxes, and tote bags to cart them over to the new house.  I have made multiple trips each day, and I have organized things as I do.  But the more I thought about his comment, the more I realized it worked in my favor.  How could it be bad to be classified as too incompetent to help with something you would rather not help with?  I was suddenly off the hook with regard to the heavy stuff. After calling me incompetent, he could hardly expect me to help. 

I did actually help with the washer and dryer—if you can call what I did, “helping.”  But as my mother used to say, “Beggars can’t be choosers,” and I was the only help there was tonight. 

The good news is, my son Spencer will be helping tomorrow. He should be infinitely more competent than I.  And I can do what I’m good at…giving orders.

Yes, I think that will work out splendidly. 

Until the next time…I’ll be celebrating one year of blogging!

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.

modern conveniences wanted

Day four of the move.

Rain dampened our progress as Mike headed off to the office today, and Alexa helped me pack up a few things to move. 

It is truly amazing how much junk a person, or a family in our case, amasses in such a short period of time.  I found no less than ten packages of Jello that had expired more than a year ago.  I didn’t even know Jello had an expiration date.  It comes in a powder.  How can that expire?  And more importantly, why did I keep buying Jello if I had more than ten unused packages?

I really need better organization in the new kitchen. 

I should probably start now, as I move things in.  But the problem with downsizing is the loss of space.  I guess that’s why I’m supposed to be weeding out some of the stuff.  Less is more (my new mantra) is harder to do than I thought. 

My initial reaction is to save things regardless of the fact that I may not have used them in ages.  I am working on that.  In fact, in a symbolic act of weeding, I threw away the expired Jello, three opened boxes of graham cracker crumbs, and every package of grits in the kitchen. 

Tomorrow, Mike is off and we will finally move the refrigerator and washer and dryer to the new house.  I am very much looking forward to cold milk and washing my dirty laundry.   I’ve had quite enough of the roughing it. 

Until the next time…I’ll be (can you guess?) moving!

 

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.

what does a girl have to do to get a box?

Day three of the move.

Beginning to feel like refugees, carrying personal items in laundry baskets and tote bags.  This of course was another means of conserving resources.  My husband’s new motto could be, “Why buy boxes when you can pack small loads and reuse the containers?” 

Many more days of this, and I will write a three page list as to why saving trees is overrated and boxes are my new best friends. 

Today the cats were loaded into the car for transport (without boxes.)

They were not amused.  Or rather Henry Chow was somewhat intrigued, if not amused by the short jaunt to the new house.  He didn’t even mind Bart pressing up against him in the back seat of the Land Rover.  That is to say, he didn’t pull out the ninja claws and scratch anyone.  Henry rode in the back seat until he discovered the view was better from the front. 

 

As predicted, the cats were not happy to see that the dogs had already taken up residence in the new house.  And because we have downsized, there are less places to hide.  A few empty moving boxes may have come in handy as hiding places, but…no boxes here. 

Speaking of conservation—and admittedly, I just thought of this—making dozens of small trips to move may actually be using more resources than it is saving.  The Land Rover eats a lot of gas!  I definitely need to bring this up…later.  I’m too tired to start a debate at twelve-thirty in the morning.  I’m surprised I was awake enough to write a blog! 

Until the next time…I’ll be playing referee between dogs and cats!

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.

cat for hire

Sunday.

Still moving things into the new house.  At this rate we will be moved in sometime just before spring.  So far the plan to use two vehicles and one small trailer is working out brilliantly.  (Note the sarcasm dripping freely from my thoughts.)

Still, I understand my husband’s reasoning for using resources we already have at our disposal.  As many of you may already have discovered, he is obsessive about conservation.  And lately, he is all about conserving money.  I don’t mind conserving money, but I draw the line…well, I draw the line all over the place. 

At least we have the dogs happily settled in at the new house.  Unfortunately, the cats are still hanging out in the old house and I’m not sure if they feel as if they have been abandoned (despite the fact that we are in and out all day long) or if they feel as if they have finally secured the entire house for their own.  I can imagine Henry Chow, ninja kitty, lurking around the semi-empty rooms muttering about how he has finally rid himself of those miserable dogs.  What a shock it will be to him when he discovers that he will be reunited with his “friends” all too soon.  Next thing you know, he will be putting an ad up on craigslist, looking for a new home.

Seeking employment:

One fierce ninja kitty—fully equipped with functional ninja weapons and not afraid to use them.  Current position includes sleeping most of the day, glaring menacingly at anyone in my path, and keeping the dogs in line.  Willing and able to assume the “alpha” male position in your home, and ready to defend the home from errant furniture and feather dusters.  I will gladly chase mice for fun, but my compensation should be in the form of the most expensive grain-free cat food you can buy, a perfectly tidy litter box, and a comfortable chair in which to sleep.  I should also require frequent petting and attention at my convenience.  Otherwise I will be asleep in my chair. 

Well…I don’t know if Henry Chow will get any serious offers, but I’m certain my husband would be more than willing to give him whatever help he needs in finding this new job. 

For now, Henry will just have to try to get along with the dogs. 

As for me, I’m still sorting things out between two houses.  I suppose as long as I have a bed, a TV, and an internet connection, I’ll be fine.  After all…I have everything that’s really important already—my family. 

Until the next time…I’ll still be moving!

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.

so whose bright idea was this?

Well…we started moving this weekend.  Ten small trips later, we still have half the house to move.  Mike decided that it would be just as easy to move using the Land Rover, the car, and some friends.  We have a small trailer that we used to load up the living room furniture, the beds, and a few other things before we were completely exhausted and ready for sleep.

So I am officially living out of two houses now—for a few days anyway.

It wouldn’t be so bad if the refrigerator and my medicine had made the trip today.  At least I remembered my toothbrush.  And my dogs.

Poor Cybil got very upset when we put her in the car.  She didn’t stop panting until she was reunited with the other two dogs at the new house.  I can only imagine where she thought she was going. 

I’m going to have to make a list tonight so I know what I’m doing tomorrow.  Today was far too unorganized for me.  We didn’t even get started until almost two in the afternoon. 

I’m sure I could go on about the crazy day I’ve had, but I really need to get a good night’s sleep so I can start again bright and early in the morning. 

Wish me luck…and if you’re in the area, come and carry a few boxes, ok?

Until the next time…I’ll be moving!

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.

the wheels in my head go round and round

I am so tired.

It’s been the longest day ever—most of it spent in cliché Hell, waiting for the cable guy to show up.  Why do they give you a window of time if they are not even going to try to fall within it?  Is it to toy with us?  Is this some sadistic game set in motion by the powers that be at the cable company?  I think Satan runs the cable company and he’s just trying to get someone…anyone…to snap.  I am proud of myself.  I didn’t snap.  Not once.

Maybe half a snap.  I did call and tell the phone operator at the cable company that I was really, really mad that they would be so disrespectful of my time.  

She laughed.

Ok, no she didn’t.  But she might have been smiling.  I definitely think I could hear a smile in her voice. 

Once the cable guy left—exactly six hours past the time window—I had lost all daylight and still had errands to run before my day was over. 

Enter two teenage girls and their mini crew of friends. 

My task was to go pick up one friend for a sleepover.  When we arrived at the friend’s house, three girls came out.  This was apparently not just news to me.  My girls were expecting two friends despite only telling me about one.  It was like the teenagers were suddenly rabbits, multiplying before my very eyes! 

We crammed all three friends into the already stuffed vehicle and headed for my next task—stuff from the store.  Apparently, you can’t have a sleepover without “stuff” from the store.  Gum is very important, as are energy drinks and snacks.  Once we had all the basic necessities, we were homeward bound.

That was when I discovered that the cable wasn’t working, and I had to call the cable company to troubleshoot the problem.

I am convinced there is something evil about the cable company.  There is no doubt in my mind.  If I didn’t absolutely need cable TV and internet in my life…I may have to work on that.

Until the next time…I’ll be watching TV and surfing the net thanks to you know who!

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.

chocolate therapy gone wrong

Mike finished tiling the laundry room at the new house tonight.  It was a must before moving in.  The old floor was absolutely disgusting.  After a hard job well done, Mike suggested getting a milkshake on the way home.  I couldn’t agree more!  I love milkshakes—especially when it wasn’t my idea to get one. 

It is a well known fact that if someone else suggests it, you don’t have to count the calories.

So off we went to the local Sonic.

Mike ordered a blended something or other, and I ordered a chocolate malt.  Something simple.  Something chocolate to soothe the effects of PMS.  

And how could anyone mess up a chocolate malt? 

I will tell you exactly how they messed up my chocolate malt.  They didn’t blend it.  All of the malt powder was sitting at the bottom of the cup.  When I stuck my straw into the cup, it drilled down into the malt powder so every sip was as dry as sand.  I was not at all happy.  I told Mike we needed to get that carhop boy back out there to redo my malt, but he wouldn’t push the button to call for assistance.  He said it was because he didn’t tip the carhop. 

Are you supposed to tip the carhops at Sonic?

There isn’t an option to leave a tip when you pay with a credit or debit card.  So if there isn’t an option, it must not be expected.  Sonic is like McDonald’s.  You don’t tip the guy at the McDonald’s drive thru. I told him that nobody tips the carhops. 

He told me to stir my malt with my straw. 

Stir it up?  With my straw?  Right, because that will work. 

It was a lot like mixing the grout for tile.  It did not stir with the straw.  I had to wait until I got home to mix it up correctly and drink my malt, and by then I didn’t even want it anymore.  You just shouldn’t have to work that hard for a milkshake.

Now I’m grumpy. 

Things that normally don’t set me off are setting me off. 

Like toilet paper.  I really hate when the last roll of toilet paper in the house is the one the dog chewed on.  It doesn’t unroll nicely after he’s been gnawing at the edges.  I’m sure there are other rolls in one of the other bathrooms, but where I was, that was the only roll available.  And thank goodness I didn’t toss it out, or I would have had none. 

And I hate when someone wears my last pair of clean socks.  Now I am forced to wear dirty socks because it’s too cold to go without.  I know who you are and I’m coming after you!  

I suppose I should have turned on the PMS early warning system.  It might have helped the unsuspecting souls who crossed my path this evening. 

Maybe then my chocolate malt would have been blended enough.  After all…who would give a messed up malt to a woman with PMS?

Not me.

Until the next time…Better just play it safe and stay out of my way!

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.

every four to six hours

Have you ever had one of those days where you misread a label?  Maybe you put a cup of salt where a cup of sugar was supposed to go?  Or perhaps you poured dish soap where the dishwasher detergent belongs. 

Both would be equally bad. 

An apple pie filled with salt is not a tasty treat.  And a steady stream of bubbles pouring from the sides of a dishwasher makes for a very soapy kitchen floor.  Still…neither of those things are life threatening, just messy.

I know I’ve had my share of “oops” moments.  I was the one who left the pot filler faucet running to flood my stove, not so very long ago.  But today, a misread label could have led to tragedy. 

It all started with my seventeen year old daughter and a case of the sniffles.

She went to the medicine cabinet to find something for cold symptoms.  She settled on an allergy relief medicine that is also recommended as a sleep aid.  She read the label and took the recommended dose.

Or so she thought.

What she read was, “Take four every six hours.”  What was actually printed on the label?  “Take every four to six hours.” And the dose was one or two capsules.  Not to exceed six in a twenty four hour period.  

When I discovered that she had taken twice the recommended dosage, I (for lack of a better phrase) freaked out!

It had been more than an hour since she had taken the medicine and she was barely able to keep her eyes open.  But she was able to tell me how much she had taken, and she was still able to do that with the snark and sarcasm one would expect from a teenage girl.  

After she drifted off to sleep, I debated calling an ambulance, but when I poked her, she would whine and bat my hand away, so instead, I checked on her every few minutes for about six hours. 

She slept for almost seven. 

When she was finally fully awake (just a few short hours ago), I explained to her why I had been so worried, and why it was so important to read the label before taking any over the counter medicine.  After a few moments of quiet reflection, the girl who sarcastically informed me that she was supposed to take four capsules every six hours, laughed and told me that it was a good thing she wasn’t going to school to be a pharmacist.

I concur.

Until the next time…I will be double checking the labels on all of my medicine for a while.

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.

I need to fall asleep thinking nice thoughts

I had a dream the other night. 

It was more of a recurring nightmare.  I have had this dream in some variation, many times.  I am riding in a car, with someone I know (but seldom ever the same person) at the wheel.  They back up slightly, in an attempt to turn around—but we are too close to a cliff, or a chasm, or some other deep drop off—and we fall backwards into the abyss.  

It is really very scary. 

I always seem to survive—miraculously—but as I am falling, I am convinced that it is no dream.  I am convinced that I am truly falling to my death. 

I’m not sure if this recurring nightmare of mine is because of my fear of heights, or rather the cause of it.  It could be one of those, “which came first” scenarios.  The dream is the chicken and the fear is the egg or something like that. 

But last night when I had my scary, cliff falling dream, the ending was quite different.  This time after surviving my harrowing fall, I found myself upside down.  Not as in upside down in the car.  I was walking around upside down in my dream.  And I was the only person who was upside down.  Everyone else was walking on the floor while I was walking on the ceiling. 

It was very, Alice in Wonderland, if you ask me.  I wondered if it had anything to do with my newly diagnosed case of vertigo. Should I be worried that I am now dreaming upside down?

I suppose I could ask the doctor next time I see him. 

Although, I think he reads my blog now, so he may already be trying to think of reasons why I would be dreaming such strange things.

Or not.

Until the next time…I’ll be thinking nice thoughts before I fall asleep.

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.

shhhh...don't tell anyone

I’m moving.

There I said it.  The secret is out.  My family is downsizing from our huge expensive house to a smaller, less expensive house, and I know I should be sad, but I’m actually sort of relieved. 

Well, except for the whole packing thing.  I’m certainly not looking forward to that…but I’d better get started because we’re moving this coming weekend!

It may seem as if we are rushing into this, but it has actually been in the works for a while now, I just wasn’t ready to say anything.  I don’t even know why, other than I just wasn’t ready to think about it.  Mike and I built this house together—our first home as a married couple—and now we are saying goodbye. 

It is bittersweet. 

Still…I said it months ago; a house is not a home.  It’s just a house.  A home is what you make it. 

Then again…a nice coat of paint doesn’t hurt.  Or rather, it does hurt.  I’ve been spending the past several days painting and I hurt all over.  I’m not complaining though.  Painting has taken my mind off a lot of things, and is actually therapeutic.  I recommend it.  In fact, if you need some painting therapy, let me know…I think I still have a room or two that needs to be done!

Well…I got the secret out…and like most secrets, it really isn’t much once it’s not a secret anymore.  This whole experience has been good for our family.  It has brought us together in new ways.  I actually got both of my teenage girls to paint their own rooms at the new house, and even my son (the one who no longer lives with us) came by to paint a hallway.  I guess it’s just one of those things.  Life is definitely an adventure, and ours has just taken a new direction.  I promise to keep you posted…tomorrow.

Tonight, I’m going to let the vertigo medicine kick in and put me to sleep for a few hours—hopefully a full eight.  Now that would be something.

Until the next time…I’ll be painting in my sleep!

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.

the couple that paints together

I hurt.

Everywhere.

Mike and I spent the entire day working on a project that involves ladders, heavy lifting, and lots and lots of paint.  And for those of you that don’t know this about my husband…he doesn’t paint.  Which left all the painting to me.  Even painting high off the floor.  So for the second day in a row, the woman with vertigo, was climbing a ladder to paint along the ceiling. 

The good news is…I didn’t fall.  The bad news is…I feel like I did.  My body hurts from my fingers to my toes and everywhere in between.  I have taken the appropriate dosage of over the counter pain reliever and I’m waiting for it to kick in. 

Still…it was a good day. 

Mike got a lot accomplished on his end of the project, and I finished all of mine.  It’s nice to have days like today, working together, getting things done. 

And hey, the snow is finally melting around here.  Can I just say, I’m going to miss it?  A little.  But I wouldn’t mind a little early spring around here.  My mother just reminded me that it’s almost Girl Scout cookie season again, and that screams spring.  Say it with me…Thin Mints!

But for now, my medicine is finally kicking in and I’m going to go to sleep.

Until the next time…I’ll be starting the week with a smile and a few aches and pains!

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.

time to rock the boat

It feels like the end of a wonderful vacation. 

After being snowed in for much of the week, feeling free as a bird—if that is even an appropriate phrase for what I am—enjoying time with my family, and reflecting on my life.  I can’t complain really.  I have been truly blessed to have a wonderful family, extended relatives included, and I have a few very good friends who I can always count on. 

Life is good.                                 

Of course, there is that pesky little vertigo thing, but I am beginning to think maybe balance is overrated. I’m just going to pretend I’m living my life on an ocean liner.  When the boat rocks, I just need to readjust my footing a little.  I can do that!  Life is all about taking steps.

Mike and I are taking a new step in the coming weeks.  I know I have alluded to a secret, and this is part of it.  I will share more tomorrow.  Tonight, I’m really tired.  I had a full day, and got a lot accomplished.  I even went up on a ladder without falling!  That’s big news for me.

Until the next time…I’ll be getting up early…lots to do!

 

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.

stop the world, I wanna get off!

Ok, so much for having a new outlook. I don’t like being dizzy anymore.  Seriously. 

Do you remember being a kid and spinning around in circles until you couldn’t walk upright?  Imagine if it didn’t stop…that’s how I feel.  It’s like the world is tipped to the side and moving. 

The suspicion that the cold air may be adding to the pressure in my inner ears has caused me to come up with my own solutions. 

Enter the ugly hat.

I should have invested more in the hat.  If I had, it might have a bit more style to it.  It is just a plain black knit watch cap that barely covers my ears and makes me look like I’m trying to hide female pattern baldness.  Or I’m about to break into a high rise and crack open the safe in the penthouse apartment.

That scenario is highly unlikely with vertigo.  I can’t even walk across my kitchen floor without holding onto the counter for stability.  And I look completely ridiculous doing it while wearing the stupid hat.

I told my husband I would be wearing the hat all day…even to bed.  He just gave me this look—you know the one, the look of sexual attraction being sucked out of the air like a vacuum—and then he smiled as if to say, “whatever you like, honey.”  Well, I’d like very much to get off the ride, thank you very much!

I think I might just try to sleep it off…like a hangover. 

I’ll let you know tomorrow how that worked out for me.

Until the next time…I’ll be dreaming I’m on a merry-go-round!

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.

give it to me straight, doc

I had a doctor’s appointment today to get to the bottom of these mysterious dizzy spells I have been having.  Everyone knows I’m always just a little bit dizzy.  I mean, I would probably fail a field sobriety test, stone cold sober, because I can’t seem to walk in a straight line. But lately, the dizzy spells have gotten out of hand, so my husband insisted that I go see a doctor.

And while I was there, I should probably ask him why my elbow hurts all the time (this also from my husband.)

So I got to the doctor’s office this afternoon and after checking in and refusing to let them weigh me—in my defense, I was wearing really heavy boots and extra clothes due to the weather and everyone knows you can’t get weighed in while wearing heavy boots and extra clothes—I had to answer all of the questions about what has been bothering me lately.  I started off with my blood pressure being high, even while taking my medication, and moved straight into the ringing in my ears that seems to get worse when my blood pressure is high.  Then I told him about the dizzy spells that set off minor panic attacks when the room starts to spin as if I was on a high speed merry-go-round. 

And then he listened patiently (no pun intended) as I gave him my theory as to why I am feeling this way.

First off, I would like to say that I love my doctor (in a strictly doctor/patient sort of way.) He has a great sense of humor, he seems to know a thing or two about medicine, and he didn’t laugh once when I told him what I thought was wrong with me.

“I think I am being affected by the shift in the magnetic poles.” Long pause. 

When he didn’t laugh, I went on.  “I have always been very sensitive to my surroundings and I know that the poles are in the process of shifting and I believe this has caused me to lose my tracking ability.  If it can happen to thousands of birds, it could happen to me.” He started to say something but I quickly added, “And I have always had a very magnetic personality.  I give off an electric shock when I touch things.”

“That’s from the dry weather.” He said with certainty. 

“But do you think it’s possible that I can feel the magnetic shift of the poles?”

He didn’t.  But amazingly, he had read the same article that I had read, and he knew I was kidding.  Unfortunately, I am not a superhero, and I cannot feel the earth spinning on its axis.

Too bad.

Still, I needed to know what WAS wrong with me, and my doctor seemed to have the answer I was looking for.  Even if it was not the answer I was expecting.

It would appear that my days are numbered.  I only have about forty or fifty years left to live.  And I’m going to be dizzy for most of them.  I have a condition called Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo, or BPPV.  Basically it means that every time I move my head, the room spins. 

And I smiled.  “Are you sure?”

He was.

In fact, he said that I wasn’t crazy (another piece of good news) that I really did feel the room spinning and tilting and it was essentially because the “gyroscopes” in my inner ear did not function properly.  And I let out a huge sigh of relief. 

Finally. 

I have a valid excuse for being clumsy.  I no longer have to endure the strange looks and snarky comments from the people in my life who don’t understand why I can’t seem to walk through a room without tripping over imaginary objects.   I can now officially use a doctor’s excuse when walking into walls! 

Oh, and my elbow?  A pinched nerve—from using the track pad on my laptop, it would seem.  Another fairly easy fix.  He also upped my blood pressure meds to help lower my blood pressure and keep me from having those nasty panic attacks.  It might even help with my inner ears since the pressure seems to be exacerbating the vertigo. 

Funny thing is, I sort of figured that was what the problem was.  I even told my husband before I left, “it’s just a perfect storm of little things all working together inside me to give me something to write my blog about.”

And it was.

Until the next time…I’ll be spinning my way around the house with a new outlook!

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.

fall is coming!

As I stepped onto a patch of ice as thick and wide as a small stream, I realized that I am way overdue for an ass busting of the highest order.  I can’t even remember the last time I have really fallen down.  I mean, I trip almost daily.  I slip fairly frequently.  Walk into door frames with regularity.  But I haven’t fallen down in…oh…weeks. 

This had me worried as I still had to cross that frozen stream of ice in order to get safely inside the Land Rover. 

I didn’t fall.  Not that time.  But there will be many more opportunities to come.  And the longer I go without falling, the more epic the fall will likely be.

Speaking of the ice…

Schools were closed again today due to “inclement weather”.  It was definitely cold.  The roads were icy, and in some places impassable.  I didn’t have any trouble, but I did see many stranded drivers on the side of the road.  At one point I suggested to my husband that we could push them out with the Land Rover.  He said we could help them…but then they would never learn.  And people in the south definitely need to learn how to drive in winter weather.  My first piece of advice would be to avoid the icy patches, especially if you don’t have a 4wd vehicle.  And if you are afraid of the ice, just stay home.  You will only be in my way. 

As for tomorrow…no school again. 

It would seem the kids in Georgia will have the whole week off.  I have to admit, the announcement of a “snow day” still gets me all excited.  I remember those days as a kid, getting that free day to stay home and play in the snow.  And if the rumors are correct, we have another bout of winter weather coming our way next week. 

I might just need to stock up on that de-icing stuff for the driveway.  And more milk. 

Until the next time…I’ll be walking with extra care for a while!

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.

stir crazy

Day three snowed in.

I had forgotten what it meant to be "stir crazy".  But today I was officially stir crazy and ready to escape. 

Can you imagine going four days without a single cheeseburger?  Without burning a drop of fossil fuel in your non-hybrid vehicle?  Without sitting at a red light impatiently waiting for it to turn green? Doing nothing but staring at the endless white abyss out of every window?

Yeah…me neither. 

Mike decided at exactly two this afternoon that we would make a break for it.  The steady drip coming from the gutters made him realize that the ice may have a weakness, and we were about to exploit it.  Snowpocalypse be damned…we were busting out of this place!

I dressed in layers reminiscent of my youth—back in the snow belt of Western New York—carefully piling on loose layers rather than a single heavy coat.  Then I pulled on two pair of socks and laced up my new mountain boots, finally donning a knit hat and wrapping a scarf around my face before heading out into the cold. 

Mike, my Florida born husband, was already out there—in sweatpants, a lightweight jacket, a pair of sneakers with no socks, and a baseball cap—using a garden shovel to chip away at the thick layer of ice built up on the driveway.  Our driveway is steep, so it was imperative that the ice be cleared before attempting the ride down.  The Land Rover weighs almost six thousand pounds, and would slide rapidly down an icy slope with nothing but the neighbors’ houses to slow its descent. 

Once he was satisfied with the ice situation, Mike began clearing the half a foot of snow from the Land Rover using a broken piece of wood that looked better suited for taking out vampires than snow removal.  I was certain that we had proper tools for winter weather, but as neither of us knew where those might be, we had to make do with what we could find. 

It was right about this time that the girls made their way to the driveway, ready to escape their captivity with just as much enthusiasm as mine.  They just had to prepare first, grooming themselves in the event we ran into other civilized humans on our journey.  Whereas I was satisfied with a few quick swipes of deodorant and a bit of mouthwash. 

Mike had the Land Rover warmed and ready to roll, but he wouldn’t let us get in.  He wanted to, “take her down himself” to make sure it was safe.  I was fine with that.  I could still see patches of ice in its path.  What I didn’t expect was that Mike would attempt to turn the car around at the top of the driveway rather than backing down.  Had I known what he was going to attempt, I would have video recorded him. 

This was crazy behavior!

He started down the hill backwards before turning the wheel so the SUV headed toward the front yard.  Suddenly the vehicle was sideways across the steep slope of the driveway, causing all six thousand pounds of the Land Rover to lean precariously to the left, and I was sure it was going to roll.  Both girls went back inside, mumbling, "I can't watch this" as I shouted frantically for him to, "turn it around!" As if he could hear me. 

Somehow he managed to get it turned around and headed in the right direction.  Once he was safely at the bottom of the driveway he yelled up for the rest of us to come on down. 

At this point I was unsure of whether or not I should have taken my chances inside the Land Rover rather than walking down the icy driveway on my own two feet.  But I'm sure my heart could not have taken the stress of that three point turn at the top.  Thankfully, my mountain boots have “teeth” on the bottom to grip the ground when I walk.  Still, it was dangerous for me.  In fact, the girls said something to the effect of, “are you sure you should be doing this?” as we were making our way down the slope.  And they had less appropriate footwear than I did. 

I made it without falling, and we all climbed in to head off to civilization.

Or rather a post-snowpocalyptic civilization. 

The streets were almost deserted.  I say almost because there was the strangest assortment of people walking down the snow and ice covered road to points unknown.  There was a man in a dark snow suit with a cat burglar mask and a large backpack.  I speculated that he might be robbing unsuspecting houses, but the girls said he was probably just cold.  There was another man with a handlebar mustache, carrying walking stick and wearing a Sherpa coat, who looked like he was just coming back from tracking the Yeti in the Himalayans. Mike said he would liked to have talked to his man, as he seemed to have an interesting story to tell.  There was also a couple (a man and a woman) who resembled two thirds of Peter Paul and Mary decked out in their nineteen sixties attire, puffing the magic dragon as they made their way to wherever. 

I was almost certain the end of the world had actually come and I’d missed it.  The survivors were wandering the earth looking for shelter…or Burger King. 

Speaking of which, I was dying for a hamburger!

We took a quick trip to the grocery store, stocking up on more milk, cheese, and snack foods, in the short window of time it was open today, before making that much needed pit stop at Burger King. 

I have never enjoyed fast food more in my life.

And then I wished I’d picked up a package of Tums while I was at the grocery store…maybe the makings for a good salad?  Oh well…next time.

That is…unless we’re snowed all week!

Until the next time…I’ll be regretting that very delicious burger all night long!

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.

snowed in

We are coming up on day two of winter storm 2011.

Atlanta was blanketed with at least six inches of fine powder that was then covered by a thick layer of ice.  It was beautiful...and treacherous.

Today was spent mostly indoors, although the kids and I managed to grab some fun in the snow with the dogs.  It was a blast watching the dogs run around in the ice covered snow.  They had to crack through the outer shell of ice to get their feet into the soft powder beneath, and it made them run like they were wearing clown shoes. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I would love to write about all the fun we had, but really it was a fairly boring day.  We watched a lot of movies and ate a lot of frozen pizza...oh and we went through half the milk.  It would seem that whomever said milk was mandatory in a winter storm was right.  The minute you can't go to the store, you suddenly crave milk! 

It rained all day today...the freezing kind...and now the roads are covered with a thick layer of ice on top of the snow.  Tomorrow will be another snow day as the department of transportation has suggested that the roads will be worse tomorrow than they were today.  The schools have already announced closings, as have most major businesses and government. 

It should be interesting.  Sort of like the Shining...as we are trapped in the house with the dogs, and two teenage girls.  I don't know how we will survive!

And can we get through another entire day without using up the last of the milk supply? 

Only time will tell...

Until the next time...I'll be snowed in.  Again!

Copyright © 2000-2025, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.