Thursday, August 31, 2006
All in a Day...
Okay, so here is the thing. This is probably the latest post I have ever published, but at least it is a post, right? And you all (all three of you, I'm sure) have been awaiting this all day long. So, here it is. You may breathe now!

I went this morning to have the hidascan done, to HOPEFULLY find out what has been going on with this rapidly aging body of mine. The damn traiterous thing that it is! I mean, I know it has never been beauty queen material but hey! At least I could usually count on it to get me through the day! Not so much, these days! So anyways, I did as the Doctor ordered. I first very dilegently brought my sorry butt over to Quest Diagnostics to have bloodwork done, figuring that since I was already there, I would also take care of my thyroid bloodwork. Killing two birds with one stone. Am smart like that. Woot. I tell them at the front desk my intent, and all is good. The little hispanic girl leads me back to the room of doom and there I sit, tournequet wrapped tightly around my arm, cinching the life out of me while she places the needle in my vein. Ouch, but all is well. I am TOUGH! She draws the vial of blood, rips the needle out and places the requisite gauze and tape on the crook of my elbow and informs me that we are through.


But wait, I say. Are you sure? Of course she is sure! I have one order! But, but, but..I also have a standing order for a thyroid workup, which needs to be done today, as I informed them when I arrived. "Oh, you did?" Uhm, yes. I sure did. "I will go check." So, I sit there and wait for her, knowing full well that the gauze on my elbow is a temporary measure and that she will soon stick me again and draw more blood. I am okay with this, really. It doesnt bother me. As I wait, the other phlebotomist (fancy name for the other guy with the needle across from her that has some other victim in his grips) asks me if I mind sharing with him what digestive disease my Dr. thinks I might be suffering from. Well, we are not sure. Initially they suspected kidney stones and now it is pretty much about ruling things out, I inform him. "Oh, I see." He replies. "I also am having troubles, and have been referred to many Doctors to find out what ails me." That is too bad. I hope you have good luck with them, I reply. "I am in so much pain and six or seven times a day I am feeling like I need to move my bowels", he informs me. (Okay, TMI already, but am polite, was raised as such. I can gag and wretch on my own time.)"It all started when they had to remove a kidney stone the size of Texas, first putting me under general anesthesia, but you know, have you ever tried to urinate when your urethra has been stretched to five times its normal size?"

At this point I tuned the dude out. Okay, hello. I am the patient here. You are NOT supposed to traumatize me! Shaddup! Shaddup, I say! The little hispanic girl finishes her business and I bolt from there, kicking and screaming...and make my way to the hospital for the scan, thinking I am in the clear.

Upon arrival at the hospital I am informed that the scan will take two hours. TWO FREAKING HOURS. I haven't even had a cup of coffee yet. Aargh!

*Takes deep breath*

It's all good. This will tell me what I need to know about what has been a-happenin with the old bod, right? Right! We hope! So I do as they ask, letting them set up an IV and making myself available on the table in a supine position perfectly willing to lay unmoving for a period of 120 minutes. Dudes. Two hours. A COLD, metal, HARD table. Flat on my back. But okay. It's all good and a necessary evil. So, here we go. I manage to lie still for the first hour while the technician watches Will and Grace reruns and I try and doze. Aside from freezing my butt off, I am okay with this. Little did I know that the next part of the test they would be subjecting me to an IV from hell, in which they would subject me to a steady stream of PAIN that will last for the remaining 45 minutes of this test. I'm talking pain as in thirteen years ago I gave birth and it felt something akin to this. Except now I am to lie still. And there will be no reprieve. They will not offer me pain killers, ice chips, the friggin easter bunny, sunshine, roses or a newborn to justify it. I HATE LIFE at this point.

But, I got through it! I rock!

You know, the jerk had the audacity to tell me to have a good day as I limped my sorry butt out of there? I hated him with the heat of a thousand suns momentarily. But I got over it. Am forgiving and kind like that!

So anyways, that is how it went. Now aren't you glad you waited?

I see the specialist again on Wednesday next week, hopefully he is able to tell me what the next step is and offers me a solution. If not, someone may die. And it wont be me!

How was YOUR day??


Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Ernesto, don't you fail me now!
Hurricane? Nope. Tropical Storm? Perhaps, but tropical depression is more likely at this point. Hmmpf! He kind of reminds me of a lot of the men I used to find intriguing. They started out real strong with potential to grow in power and then ended up fizzling out into insipid little wimps who were either unemployed, gay, criminals, attached, married or hung up on their mothers. Men! (TL, I pink puffy heart you for being so stable and normal in a sea of absolute assholes. Oh, and for marrying me too. And so does my father.) Oh..uhm, I was talking about the weather, wasn't I? Excuse me, I am back from that little trip into ancient history now, sorry.

Anyway! The big raging storm. It just isn't. And being a somewhat odd one, I am disappointed. I like hurricanes! I have now lived in Florida through ten or so of them. And while I mourn what happened to people affected by them and wouldn't wish it on anyone, they have not negatively affected us in any way at all. No damage. Not so much as a power outage. What they have meant to the family G in the past is a rainy day together to do what we wish. Mostly, that would be homemade soup or stew and movies on the couch while still in our jammies. Something The Leester just really doesn't go for, as a rule, but that I lurve. I find that an easy way to refill my emotional fuel tank is to snuggle up to the big grumbly bear with my head on his chest and doze my way through whatever movie he chooses to watch while The Wee does his thing, popping in and out as he sees fit. (I would love for him to watch the movie with us but he has the attention span of a gnat and would usually be bounding around with Divot, or Koda in a previous life. Or playing on the Computer or with PS2 or Xbox, doing what boys do.) Not today though. The Leester is at work all day and it is The Wee and I here at home.

I do however, have a chicken boiling on the stove to turn into yummy soup which I will serve to them accompanied by crusty rolls. The Wee is off of school today for a hurricane day and I do intend to spend the day lounging in my jammies. Perhaps I can even convince my teenager to watch a movie with his Mama. Something Disneyesque, something that we used to watch when he was a much littler person and used to enjoy snuggling up to me on the sofa singing the songs to.

All in all, a semi-charmed kind of life, hurricane or not. I am a lucky girl.

Tuesday, August 29, 2006
The Top Seven Leesterisms for the week of August 21st
In the car (TL was driving, am safe like that and do not use cell phone in transit. Really.) Upon my calling my Mom to make sure they got home safe and to touch base:

TL:Do you need to do that?
Me:Shush, I'm on the phone.
TL:I'm trying to listen to Soul Brother Kevin! SBK, Koomb-bye-eh!!(Local Talk Radio)
Me:Shush! I'm on the phone! *glare*
TL after call is ended: Dude! I work like 10 hours a day, 5 days a week. Can you not do your talking then and just be quiet when I am at not working??
Me: *punch* Shaddup, asshole!

In Costco, making random conversation:

Me: Dude, we are now the parents of a teenager. Thirteen. Can you believe it?
TL while smacking his hands together and rubbing them back and forth: WooHoo! Now the fun begins.
Me: Fun? How so?
TL: Now, his teenage years, is when I get to really piss him off so that he moves out when he is eighteen.
Me: You really piss him off already, riding his ass about everything.
TL: I do it for you honey, then you dont have to mourn the empty nest when you have him 'spread his wings' and move out because he will leave on his own!
Me: *punch* Shaddup asshole!

In Costco, one aisle over from previous conversation, nearing bikes:

Me: Dude, we really need to figure out what to get the kid for his birthday!
TL: Birthday present, shmesent! He gets anything he wants already!
Me: We will buy him a present dear, its what we parents do. How about a new bike?
TL: How about a new air compressor instead? I'll let him look at it in my garage.
Me: *punch* Shaddup, asshole!

Yet again in Costco, nearing jewelry aisle:

Me: I know honey, why dont you buy me a diamond?
TL: I know honey, why dont I buy me a new watch?!
Me: Okay, you give up your car audio and we will buy you your watch!
TL: Yeah? about you give up...electricity and we will buy you a new diamond!
Me: *punch* Shaddup, asshole!

On the way to the dog park, with me driving:

TL: You need your right lane.
TL: Slow down.
TL: This is your exit.
TL: Turn right after the overpass.
Me: It's a wonder I manage to get anywhere without you here telling me how to drive!
TL: Do I detect pissiness, or are you talking again?
Me: *punch* Shaddup, asshole!

Getting ready to go out Sunday, after I have served him breakfast in bed, showered am ready to get dressed and he is still laying there watching TV:

Me: You planning on getting your lazy ass up anytime soon? And what is it with you guys and having to have your hand down your pants in front of the TV?
TL: We have to make sure the valuables are still there. And it likes to be petted.
Me: hahaha...boys are gross! Get your butt up and into the shower, I want to take Divot to the park!
TL: I bet I can get in the shower right now and STILL beat you getting ready! You take forever in the shower!
Me: That is because I wash, with soap, and am much cleaner than you!
TL, still watching some random old prison movie that he informed me was a classic: Are you talking again??
Me: *punch* Shaddup, asshole!

On his way to get in the shower after I went ahead and shut the TV off:

TL: What did ya do that for? I was watching that! (In requisite little boy whiney voice)
Me: Cause I wanna go now?
TL, under his breath: Goofy Bitch.
Me: Did you just call me a goofy bitch?
TL looking guilty: Who, me? I said I had uhh...a booty itch! (Looking quite pleased with himself)
Me: *punch* Shaddup, asshole!

Welcome to my world. And no, of course I do not punch my husband for real, just in my mind. We do, however, call each other Dude far too much. Also, Dudes, we adore each other, so no worries. We joust in jest, its fun.

Monday, August 28, 2006
Lucky Thirteen
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The Wee turned thirteen yesterday. Thirteen. My son, the teenager. I try and recall what I was like at thirteen and I don't think I was as nice as he is, but maybe that is a guy thing? He seems to be far more tolerant of his parental units than I was of mine at that age. Or perhaps any age? (Sorry Mom and Dad! Off topic but I believe this to be true because just yesterday my mother informed me that there is no way they are staying a week at my house in May when they come to visit so she booked a condo for a third week after finding out that's what it would have meant the way reservations stood. Hah! My own mother! I cant possible be THAT much of a bitch to live with, can I? (As an aside, yes, I can. And am, I think, mostly. Even though I try (I really do try hard)not to be. But just the same, my Mom didn't mean it like that, honest. You don't have to worry about me or anything, I am still the spoiled rotten, over-indulged brat (see included photo below of the lengths my family will go to for me as previously mentioned in a different post) with parents who love me as I have always been. I just have to make her look bad for sympathies sake.) (And I use way too many parentheses.)

My sister Katydid, cleaning my house. really well. Yes, those would be twelve foot ceilings.

Wow, talk about ADD. Let me try and focus here. Ah yes, The Wee-man. A teenager. At times I would rather stab myself in the eye with an icepick than contemplate what the next years should bring me, if he chooses to follow in my footsteps. Dear Lord help me. My parents warned me that revenge would be theirs one day. Suffice it to say that I am awaiting the hammer to fall in that regard because thus far, I am blessed. He is a really NICE kid. A good kid. An honor roll kid who causes us no grief whatsoever. He is mostly good-natured and fun and funny and bright. He seems to have really come into his own this past year and I am constantly amazed by his personality and wit. He is an individual who doesn't follow the pack but instead marches to his own beat. He is a champion for the underdog and doesn't take crap from anyone. He believes in kindness and fairness and it is inherently obvious in his actions and attitudes.

No, he does not walk on water.

He can be a total shit when it suits him. He has to be told thirty times to clean his room. We have to inspect to make sure he does so properly and isn't hiding a place-setting for four of dirty dishes under his bed. He farts, burps, is stinky and probably picks his nose; but at least has the good sense to do so in private. He is infatuated with girls and has informed me that he likes his boobs with gravy. And he -really- likes boobs, if I judge by the content of posters in his bedroom.

He brought true meaning to my life at a time when I was searching in all the wrong places for direction. I credit my pregnancy and his birth for possibly saving my life. Most certainly for saving my parents grief. His impending birth set me back on the straight and narrow and made me get my act together.

Thirteen years ago yesterday I was in the delivery room with my baby sister, who stayed by my side endlessly, without complaint; for 16 hours until the Wee made his appearance.

At 10:29pm 08/23/93, my son came into the world weighing 8lbs 3oz and measuring 24.5" long. Yesterday, my baby greeted the world weighing 171lbs and measuring 5'8.5" tall. He looked down at me and said "Good morning Mommy, I love you." and my heart filled to bursting, as much as it did the first time I laid my eyes on him. I wished him a happy birthday and held him close, unwilling to ever let him go.

Then he farted and I ran into the next room to get away from him as he laughed at me.

We did not do anything to celebrate the kids birthday over the weekend as he wanted to wait until this coming weekend and go to medieval times for dinner and possibly to see a movie. Or else Sea World, which is better bang for his buck because as FL residents we pay once and go all year. So, I left it to him and he can decide and get back to me.

In other news, I realized how old and married I am when laying in bed on Saturday night at 9:30pm and it occured to me that the Leester and I were watching concrete dry on TV. Literally. Damn discovery channel. I turned over and when to sleep after announcing to the hubs that I could justify a lot of things, but watching concrete dry was just not one of them and he told me it was interesting.

No fear of any more procreation here, I tell ya. I almost punched him in the neck.

Great, now I broke it.
Under the guise that blogger would offer me all sorts of new goodies to play with if I switched my blog over to their beta, I crossed over and now I broke my blog. At least, I broke how it looks! You should still be able to read everything just fine, I hope. Bear with me while I get this straightened out.


Sunday, August 27, 2006
All Dogs Go To Heaven....
And if I am -really- good, I get to go to the dog park!!
Where I get really tired and sit on the park bench with the Daddy-human person.
But not till after I climb...
And play hide and go seek...
And run around....
And have a really in depth doggie-talk...
Back up on the park bench by my Daddy-human thing. He will keep me safe.'s a dog's life.

My Mommy-human will be back tomorrow with lots of her words. She was too sleepy tonight to tell you stories so I am going to go make her scratch my tummy now.


Yes, okay, it is true. I -really- need to get a life.

Friday, August 25, 2006
An update of sorts.
It is a good thing tomorrow never comes because neither did this post as it was promised. Yesterday was pretty much a write-off after seeing the Doctor as the pain is aggravated by the poking and prodding as I am sure you can understand. Currently they are leaning towards my gallbladder as the culprit, I am to go for more testing early next week to determine that for certain. Fine by me! Time to have this dealt with and behind me, thankyouverymuch! Yes, H, if I am lacking a definitive diagnosis at that point I will take you up on your offer and make my way to the Mayo up in your neck of the woods. Thank you, again, for the offer.

At any rate, enough of that business!

After a very nice week, I got my houseguests onto the train and homeward bound and things have settled into routine around here fairly quickly. While they were here though, my mother and sister managed to spoil the Wee beyond belief, from presents to movies to his favorite meals and even an impromptu early birthday party before they left. Needless to say, he was thrilled and soaking it all up. A rude pull back to reality when I informed him that he needed to clean up the kitchen after dinner last night! He almost had the audacity to pout and object, but knew better in the end.

My Mom and Sister also cleaned my house from top to bottom, worthy of a white glove inspection, and caught up on my laundry and everything else while here. Talk about earning their keep, right? Woohoo! I did ask them if they could come back next month and do the same. They laughed. Hard. Why, I wonder. They only traveled nearly three thousand miles, this time! It was really good to see them. Just what the Doctor ordered!

The Leester was very obviously outnumbered and out of his element as low man on the totem pole while the women were here and it was obvious in his mannerisms. Nothing could go asked without him pondering aloud why I was asking "All the questions" as he glanced furtively over his shoulder looking for the conspiracy. It looks good on him! Keeps him on his toes!

The first thing he did when he walked in the door after work yesterday was look at me, grin and announce that he would be removing his pants at the door and spending the evening lounging in his boxers. Go for it, Leester! Take back your castle! Can I get you a brew? What's that? You didn't hear me over your belch? I asked you if you would like a beer, dear.

More later, I am off to take my little old lady friend to get her hair shampood and set. Oh yes, back to the daily routine, alright.

Wednesday, August 23, 2006
If you haven't withered (read:run) away from boredom and disgust at the lack of updates, I promise I shall deliver tomorrow, now that my house guests have begun their homeward journey.

It was great to see them and I will miss them, of course, but it is also nice to be back to routine around here.

And on that note? To sleep. For I am old. And quite boring. And still battling this stupid phantom pain, whatever it may be. Which, by the way, I see a GI about first thing in the morning.


Saturday, August 19, 2006

By definition via wikipedia, an inukshuk is:

An inuksuk (plural inuksuit) [1] (from the Inuktitut: plural; alternatively inukshuk in English [2] or inukhuk in Inuinnaqtun [3]) is a stone landmark used as a milestone or directional marker by the Inuit of the Canadian Arctic. Inuksuit differ from some cairns in significance. The Arctic Circle, dominated by permafrost, has few natural landmarks and thus the inuksuk was central to navigation across the barren tundra.

Inuksuit vary in shape and size, and perform a diverse array of tasks. It is a symbol with deep roots in the Inuit culture, a directional marker that signifies safety, hope and friendship.

My Mom and Dad spent several years living and working with the Inuit people of Canada in Northern Quebec, in a place called Kuujjuaq, formerly known as Ft. Chimo; which some of you may have heard of. If not, feel free to Google it, it is quite interesting.

While there, they would make a yearly trek south to visit us in Florida and each time they would bring me at least one little indigenous trinket and along with it a new found knowledge of the Inuit people that they would share with me. One of these things was a soapstone Inukshuk and a beautiful picture of it. When my Mom explained the symbolism of this item and what it meant, it soon became one of my favorite things.

My Mom and sister are here visiting this week and while there is plenty of laughter, such as the way my Mom and I ran towards each other a'la the Kermit/Miss Piggy scene in the muppet movie (over exaggerated and in slow motion) when I picked them up from the Amtrak station, or my sister katydid imitating my puppy and pretending to hump my leg in the grocery store (unaware that some man was watching us the entire time, and quite enjoying himself in the process) I realized that their visit was just exactly what I needed at this time. Even though I didn't realize that I was in need of anything.

My family is my personal Inukshuk. Although I piss and moan at times about the ways they make me crazy, I adore them more than I know how to verbalize. I am often overcome by the realization that if my family history had a voice, it would be laughter. It would be peaceful and comfortable and filled with love. It would tell people how wonderful my childhood was and what sort of impact that has on me as a mother. It would sing a wonderful song of good fortune.

/End cheese. :)

Well, my katydid just got out of bed and poured herself a coffee, but not before first talking to me in the voice I know is just between she and I and bringing a smile to my face.

Today we are off to play the day away at Universal studios and be great big kids. Tomorrow, who knows. They are only here until Tuesday and lets be real, by then they will be back to driving me a little bit crazy and we will roll our eyes at each other and be ready to go our separate ways again, but that is fine with me. That is family.

Wednesday, August 16, 2006
One of us is being stupid.
The us being myself and blogger. So, if todays post (directly below) suddenly appears 742 times, blame it on blogger and spare my feelings, will you?

The men in my life...
**Posted Thursday, August 17th, but I am too stunned to figure out how to change the date to have it correctly reflect that. Durrr!!!**

Universal Studios

There are the three main ones, as most of you know. The Leester, the Wee, and The Divot. Yes, my dog. What? He is male! Most times, they make me crazy, even though I love them. Here, you will better understand why.

Example A: One has to wonder what kind of day it is going to turn out to be, when upon getting up to tinkle at 3:15 in the morning, one feels a disgusting squishing sensation under one's heel. One of the men in my life (I'll let you figure out which) decided to take a middle of the night crap on my bedroom floor. I'm usually pretty good about finding the positive in any given situation, but this one was a bit of a stretch. Hmmmn...let me see. I guess the fact that it was my heel and not right between my toes? Yeah, right. Let me just admit it. I wanted to kill the little bugger at that moment and probably would have, except my foot was covered in crap so I was forced to hop over and wash it first. And I still had to pee. And it was 3:15 in the morning. So...he is alive, so far.

Example B: The Wee, who upon asking me perfectly straightfaced about the phases of the moon, how one knows what phase the moon is in etc. informed me that his cell phone has a program that tells him which phase the moon is in and proceeded to send me a picture via text messaging. Of a full mooon. Not the one in the sky, but HIS full moon. My beloved, innocent boy child. Welcome, teenager. Who are you, and what have you done with my baby?

Example C: The Leester, on one of many trips to Universal Studios (We are pass holders, in case you hadn't figured that out, by all the references to said amusement park) leans into The Wee as we wander through Suess Landing one Sunday afternoon and says: "Hey Wee, I'll give ya five bucks if you run up and drop kick The Grinch and yell at him for stealing Christmas."

Example D: The Wee's willingness to attempt aforementioned task.

Honestly though, they all keep me in stitches. the Leester seriously cracks me up, on a daily basis. He is one of the funniest guys I know and I am constantly reminded of how much The Wee is turning out to be his father's son by the similarities in their mannerisms, attitudes and abilities. Being a Father is so much more than DNA and I am truly blessed that The Leester chose my son as his own. Even when the pair of them make me question my own sanity.

I probably dont tell him that, nearly enough.

I pick up the Mom and the Sister at the Amtrak station this morning and they are here for a week or so. So, although I anticipate posting as often as possible, it may not be daily. Please come back and see me soon though!

Also, if any of you lurkers out there would like to comment and introduce yourselves, I'd be happy to know you! :)

The Family Jewels
Growing up in rural Podunkville, there was not a lot happening, most of the time. Some of the major events were when concerts would come to the nearby city. It was what everyone did! My really bad eighties wardrobe consisted of a great many concert T-Shirts that I was proud to own (and wear) and some really big hair. And possibly leg-warmers, but lets not go there, shall we? I don't think I could even count the number of bad concerts that I have been to in my life, but at least it was something, right? I'm talking the greats! (snark) Joan Jett and the Black Hearts. Bryan Adams. Streetheart, Helix and the Headpins, Pat Benatar, to name just a couple. I know. *yawn*. Trust me, I lived it. It was a feat that they even appeared where I grew up. The guy responsible has won many an award for managing to keep some 'big' name acts rolling through even today.

At any rate, I digress. No surprise, I know. When I was thirteen or fourteen I joined a youth group in this same city with some friends, which meant that our parents committed to driving us the 45 miles twice a week to have us attend, under the premise that this would give us positive focus and something constructive to do in our formative years. Such awesome parents. And I do not say that sarcastically, it really was sweet of them, if you think about it. There were probably half a dozen or eight of us that joined, having all gone to the same church growing up, so our parents shared the driving duties and we car-pooled. Our parents would studiously drop us off and then go about their own happenings, while we were in the care of responsible adults left to guide us down the path to righteousness.

Trouble is? We were shitheads, mostly. Well practiced in the art of the duck and run, we high-tailed it as often as possible to the mall, or the movies, or wherever nice young Christian kids do NOT go for things constructive. Honestly, we didn't really get into much trouble, aside from the odd cigarette smoking or flirting with boys. There was nothing hard-core. No drug abuse or alcohol or anything of that nature, at least that I saw. Well, one of these trips to the mall was very fruitful, for me and a friend.

In the mall there was this very obvious 'bad-boy' who totally didn't belong in our neck of the woods. Dude! It was Eric Carr! (scream! swoon!) Also one of their roadies. (shudder, gag) Dude! He gave us tickets to see KISS! DUDE!! (Scream some more!) The roadie, not Eric Carr. (Gag some more, but who cares, free tickets!)

Well, we managed to go to this concert, under the guise of another youth group activity. DUDE! We totally got busted. No more youth group for us. Gee, I wonder why. The parents? Not nearly as stupid as we believed. At any rate, Kiss was fun. They were in make-up and it was enlightening. Silly, right? I loved them! I still love them! It opened up my eyes to that devil music (insert backmasking and lost souls here), heavy metal. I still dig Kiss and Ozzy and Judas Priest and Nazareth and, and, and. The Clash, The Sex Pistols, Eric Clapton, Pink Floyd, RUSH, all greats. Not at all related, but still, all great.

Yes, that ages me. Greatly. Don't care, its stellar music and beats most anything that kids listen to now. And MY WORD what the consider heavy metal now hurts my brain. There, I said it, I have turned into my parents. "That's not music! Turn that noise down!!"

ANYWAYS! Now I really digress. If you are not watching Gene Simmons: Family Jewels, you need to be! I love it! If I was sixteen years old I would be crushing ALL over Nick Simmons. And Gene is still crazy wild, for an aging (Sorry Gene, cause I totally know you read my blog. I heart you!) rocker. But what I love most about this show is how real this family is. This is a man that clearly ADORES his kids and isn't afraid to do really silly, funny stuff to show it. Watch it, please. For me.

Besides, we are talking about GENE SIMMONS, people! Need I mention his other claim to fame??

**Alright, perverts! I wasn't talking about his tongue! I was talking about the fact that he claims never to have been drunk or done drugs. And that he speaks about six languages fluently. And is a teacher. And is Isreali born. Okay, never mind, I WAS talking about his tongue and the fact that he claims to have slept with 4600+ women. So sue me!**

Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Random musings
I'm sure this Blog would be much more interesting if I actually updated it with some sort of predictability, hmmn? I will work on that. In the meantime though, I'll update you on the latest happenings and you can just feign interest, okay? Mmkay, good.

Friday saw the day spent in the local ER on the advice of my primary care doctor as the abdominal ultrasound failed to turn anything up. Not just pain, but phantom pain! Woohoo, never a dull moment! I tell ya. I went through the gamut of tests, from CT scans to blood work to whatever else they saw fit to do. One thing is for certain, I cannot fault them for leaving stones unturned (even if they weren't kidney stones). Still, though, nothing. I am to see a GI next in order to further try and diagnose. They are now leaning towards IBS. The Leester was with me in the ER when the Dr. informed us that I needed to see a GI to find out about that and then we were on our way with a script for pain killers. Pain management. Ugh. I like nice tidy little results, thankyouverymuch!

He teased me mercilessly, about the idea of IBS, says it is 'for girls'. Have a meeting you don't want to attend Dee? "Oh, I'm sorry, my bowels, they are irritable." Now imagine it said in a very poorly done British accent, will you? Of course I punched him upside the head, no need to ask!

At any rate, enough of that!

This time of year finds me sort of melancholy, with The Wee heading back into school and my days becoming far more routine and dull. I feel the lack of close relationships a great deal and catch myself wondering what it would be like if we moved back to Canada where my lifelong friends live. That is the one thing I truly miss here, the lack of history with girlfriends. And believe me, forming friendships is a challenge. It is much like dating, finding the right match, and Lord knows I was not great at that, although ultimately I managed.

Well, talk about sending the seasonal blues right out of the ballpark, when my sister, katydid and my Mom informed me they are on their way here for an impromptu visit! Wheee!! I pick them up from the train station on Thursday morning and they will be here for a week. So, there ya have it. Cool beans, I have something fun to focus on!

That should hold my attention for at least a minute or two!!

Friday, August 11, 2006
The Husband, at his finest.

Snippits of conversation at our house this week:

The Leester: How ya feeling babe?

Moi: Not great, wish the pain would just go away or I at least knew what was up.

The Leester: So, what's for dinner? And did you have a chance to get my pants hemmed?

Moi: Dude, extenuating circumstances, the pants aren't done yet. Dinner, hmmmn..something frozen.

The Leester: See, this is why I hate buying pants that are not already the right length.

Moi: Thanks for the sympathy though, really.

The Leester: Well, I could be sympathetic, but then the world would spin off its axis and everything would be all turned upside down. And you wouldn't want that, now would you?

Gotta love him, he is such a sweetheart! My romantic champion! Hahaha, good thing I am used to this and can see through the gruff layer, right?

Wednesday, August 09, 2006
I'm not stoned...
Well, no kidney stones. Back to the Dr. this morning to re-evaluate where/why this pain originates and why it has been constant for days now. Bad pain, bad! Down with pain!

Ugh...wish me luck.

**Updated to add: I still do not know what the heck is up with this, but have had more tests and am awaiting results. Will keep you posted.**


She has seen 16 Presidents come and go in her lifetime. Her first car was a Tin Lizzie, or for those who don't know, a Ford Model T. She has lived through both World Wars and the Great depression and when she and her husband bought their first home in Washington Township NJ, they paid a hundred dollars for it. She has been robbed at gunpoint while attending the funeral of a loved one, along with everyone else who happened to be in the church. She has traveled the world but not until after she visited every State in the Country. She is sometimes loud and obnoxious and always, always speaks her mind. To a fault. Like the time we were at the grocery store and she told the overweight lady purchasing a cake to put it away, because she didn't need it. (Lets talk about wanting to melt into the floor!) She has been married three times and never divorced. She is the best history lesson one could ask for, when she is on top of her game. At other times she is a tad bit forgetful and somewhat childlike in her mannerisms. She rode a motorbike on her Ninetieth birthday, because she though it looked fun.

She is now in her 96th year and is my closest friend here in Florida. On Sunday she accompanied my family and I to Universal Studios for the day, where she grinned like a child when she rode the rides with me. The ones she was able to, of course. I made her sit in a wheelchair so I could wheel her around for the day, to which she protested, but did just the same. Wee, who has always been rather shy around her, took over the wheelchair duties immediately. Young and chivalrous, I watched from the sidelines as he took her from place to place and gently explained things to her. Where they got the ideas for the rides, what movies were associated with them. I watched as she listened to him, learning from him. A role reversal, the adult being led by the child. Wee, gaining confidence with each passing hour, his voice rising from a meek "Yes Ma'am" to the self assured kid that I know him to be. As I watched, they formed a friendship of their own, these two very different people.

I was allowed a glimpse of the man my son will grow up to be, and I was proud.

Monday, August 07, 2006
Come back tomorrow if you want a real post
Sorry, I have nothing for you today. As mentioned previously, the kidneys, they hate me. Especially as the morning was spent getting an ultrasound. No better way to make already sad internal organs scream with rage than by letting the ultrasound technician smash them to bits with the thingamajiggie. I'll be glad to know (in a few days) what the heck is up. If it is a kidney stone, alright already, you can show yourself now. The Leester and Wee are wagering on it's size and sadly both are rooting for something the size of a golf-ball. The Leester says it dates back to evolution, the same fixation as eating bugs out of each others fur. He is an odd one, yup. The ass.

The wee gets a notable mention though, for thinking it wise (or not thinking at all) to introduce a portable hand-held fan to the back of my hair, right at the crown.

Ahem...Have you seen my hair? See below. Needless to say, I was as unimpressed as the Leester was amused. Oh yah, the bald guy finally has his day. Make that a pair of asses, shall we?

Good thing the love, it is unconditional.

Thursday, August 03, 2006
From my point of view...
Here's to the Red, White and Blue






The Curse of the Interwebnet Thing....

After seeing the Doctor today and finding out that as I suspected, I quite probably have a kidney stone (must have an ultrasound on Monday to determine 100%) which I hear the passing of is sheer hell in its own right, I have since, thanks to the plethora of knowledge at my avail because of the great and vast WWW, self-diagnosed with many diseases much uglier. Diseases requiring treatment ranging from dialysis to chemotherapy to transplant.

Talk about a penchant for dramatics and far, far too much time on my hands. Actually though, if what I have been told is true, that passing a kidney stone is comparable to childbirth, maybe I'd prefer dialasis.

I jest, of course. I wouldn't wish such on anyone, nor do I take lightly or mock those faced with disease. I'm just scared, to death, of how much this is gonna hurt.


Anyone else have nicer weekend plans than what it appears I am going to be up to?

Yah bastards?

*Nice picture at the heading, right? This is what came up when I googled 'healthy kidney image'*

Wednesday, August 02, 2006
The Inaugural Meme... (Part one of Two)
I was tagged to do this by the author of one of my favorite blogs, RockStarMommy. It is what is known as a meme, and for those who are as clueless as I was initially, I have included Wikipedia's definition of the word.

The term "meme" (IPA: not "mem"), coined in 1976 by Richard Dawkins, refers to a replicator of cultural information that one mind transmits (verbally or by demonstration) to another mind. Dawkins said, Examples of memes are tunes, catch-phrases, clothes fashions, ways of making pots or of building arches. Other examples include deities, concepts, ideas, theories, opinions, beliefs, practices, habits, dances and moods which propagate within a culture. A meme propagates itself as a unit of cultural evolution analogous in many ways to the gene (the unit of genetic information). Often memes propagate as more-or-less integrated cooperative sets or groups, referred to as memeplexes or meme-complexes.

Some proponents of memes suggest that memes evolve via natural selection in a way very similar to Charles Darwin's ideas concerning biological evolution on the premise that variation, mutation, competition, and "inheritance" influence their replicative success. For example, while one idea may become extinct, other ideas will survive, spread and mutate, for better or for worse through modification.

Some meme-theorists contend that memes most beneficial to their hosts will not necessarily survive; rather, those memes which replicate the most effectively spread best; which allows for the possibility that successful memes might prove detrimental to their hosts.

For those in the know, if this is not using the word in its proper form, correct me. Also, tell me where, then, the name Meme comes from in this instance?

ANYWHO....RSM asks that I give you a glimpse into my head regarding obsessions I have had throughout my life. When she did it, she broke it down into nice tidy little timelines, but as she is OCD and I am more scatterbrained and lucky to remember much at all chronologically, mine will be more jumbled, I'm sure.

As a child I was raised in a very tidy little life in a very tidy little town by a very tidy little set of parents. Very 'normal', if you will. My obsessions ran the usual course of little girls everywhere.

Barbies: One could never have too many Barbies and my parents built my sister and I the most fabulous Barbie house as a Christmas gift from the guy in red. This thing was HUGE. My mother, being oh so creative and my Father, being oh so studious and organized (when properly directed with a given task by the boss of the house and something NOT home plumbing related) produced a bloody mansion, right down to running water in the little Barbie sinks and the tiniest little handmade drapes on tiny little wooden curtain rods. This house had I believe eight rooms. Gargamel (My pet name for my baby sister) and I played with that thing for years. I recall doing the Barbie thing all the while wondering if somewhere, out there, there was some lifeform playing with us like we were barbies. I still wonder that sometimes today. (Maybe that explains something about me?)

Little House on the Prairie: Wow, have I aged myself, or what? I recall rushing home from school specifically so we could sit down on the floor in front of the TV to watch it. I used to fantasize about being alive in the time of the Ingalls and dream that it would somehow be a better life. What a nutjob! Perhaps it had something to do with my long red braids and the freckles on my face?

Pippy Longstockings: Again, probably something to do with the braids but I fancied myself Pippy. Afterall, she got to have a horse and a monkey in her house. No rules and regulations! I wanted to latch onto this idea, for sure. The more level heads of my parents prevailed, obviously...Something that still bugs me today. Ah well, what do ya do?

As you can see, my childhood was pretty predictable and very typical of what I always assumed was the way everyone lived, with a Mom and Dad and siblings in a nice tidy little world. Of course I had the typical childhood fears, monsters in the closet and the dark, but these never really got the better of me so I would not consider them obsessions. The closest thing to an obsession that was awful was clowns. Clowns are evil. To this day, I see no redeeming quality in clowns. What is cute or endearing about a made up face, a sinister ugly disguised face?? Clowns are bad!

Adolescence was a much murkier time for me, as I am sure it is for most. I, like all, grew an attitude the size of Texas and thought I knew it all. I still think that for the most part my obsessions were very standard.

Boys: The constant quest for the boyfriend. I chose some dorks.

School: Not in a good way, but I obsessed about getting out of school. I put in time in school and that was it, much to the chagrin of my parents, who paid dearly to put us kids through private school. School felt like a prison sentence to me, because afterall, what could anyone teach me when I already knew everything?? To this day, my complete abuse of my education is a true regret.

Cadets: My Dad was the commanding officer of the local Army Cadet Corps and this is something all of my siblings and I were very active in. I know my Mom didn't like it much as it kept my Dad away from home for long hours but as kids, it was really cool quality time where we learned a lot from my Dad. Oddly enough, skills that still come into play today, things like first aid, a sense of direction, self discipline etc.. As well, this was my first introduction to boys in uniforms. Boys. And we got to go on co-ed camping trips with boys. Oh, and did I mention boys? And boys in uniforms?

Nuclear War: Growing up on the tail end of the Cold War, this is something that terrified me. I used to have recurring nightmares about our whole town being enveloped by this huge mushroom cloud and scavenging my way through rubble looking for a familiar face. Entirely unreasonable and silly. Why I figured that someone would want to wipe Fort macleod off the map is beyond me. Delusions of grandeur perhaps?

Being Possessed by evil spirits: I used to believe that cats were evil. Vessels of demons and a direct link to the underworld. I also used to believe that life on this planets was ALWAYS a battle between angels and demons and that letting your guard down even the tiniest bit would result in your mind and body being taken over by demons. Did this have something to do with movies such as The Exorcism? The Omen? Something to do with the good old Catholic guilt? Perhaps..who knows. I understand spirituality much more now and do not live my life in fear. Laugh if you will, but that was a pretty big feat for me.

Dying: I used to fear dying like nothing else. Specifically, dying in a car crash. I recall times in my life where to even get into a vehicle was something that took every ounce of my will and determination and the entire time I was in a vehicle I was on the verge of an anxiety attack. Teeth clenched and legs rigid as though by sheer determination I could ward off any oncoming doom. Wow, I sound like a total crack pot! hahaha..I guess in this regard it was a good thing I was raised in a one horse town and didnt have to deal with the traffic I do now!

Getting out of the town I grew up in: I wanted nothing more than to move away. I felt like it had nothing at all good to offer me and I craved an Urban life. I didn't even know what an urban life WAS and yet I wanted out. Far, far away. As soon as I could I moved to the nearest city and thought I had achieved something. It was pretty much the same but now there was access to more of it. Later hours. Sunday shopping. Oh, and more boys. Little did I know that life would eventually see me thousands of miles from where I grew up with fond memories of my childhood and all it offered!

I am going to stop here and save young adulthood and beyond for tomorrow as this is rather long-winded. Surprise, surprise!