Saturday, August 29, 2009
Monday, August 24, 2009
If You're Reading This
It means Blogger scheduler worked because I am no where near this blog.
It's a Small World is probably ringing in my ears and we're desperately seeking rodents--not to exterminate them, but in hopes of getting autographs.
The oldest is joining us. I will have new pictures to post of him since most of the ones I've been using are 1-2 years old.
Life is good.
It's a Small World is probably ringing in my ears and we're desperately seeking rodents--not to exterminate them, but in hopes of getting autographs.
The oldest is joining us. I will have new pictures to post of him since most of the ones I've been using are 1-2 years old.
Life is good.
Question for you today:
This Face Book phenomenon.
Great way to reconnect.
Have you had requests from
people in your past that
you don't necessarily want to reconnect with?
OR
Have you had people "friend request" you
that makes the spouse uneasy?
OR
Has someone popped into your spouse's
group of "friends" that you'd rather not have there?
This Face Book phenomenon.
Great way to reconnect.
Have you had requests from
people in your past that
you don't necessarily want to reconnect with?
OR
Have you had people "friend request" you
that makes the spouse uneasy?
OR
Has someone popped into your spouse's
group of "friends" that you'd rather not have there?
Just curious.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
I'm Not a Doctor But...
Ok, I did the doctor appointment.
It wasn't quite as relaxing as we had all hoped-- in fact, I thought I might have a heart attack just trying to get there.
Oh, and Monday's appointment was cancelled because it was the ONLY time my hairdresser could get me in for a cut before my trip
Self:"Hmm, do I see the doctor about increasing dizzy spells or get my hair cut?"
Reasoning Self: "Well you could, but say he fixes dizzy spells and you go to Disney World with bad hair... Get the hair cut and that way, when you faint, at least you'll look good".
Me: "Yes, Monday sounds fine, I'll take that hair appointment, thank you".
So, luckily, the doctor had a different appointment for Thursday. Today. Still had four kids in tow. But first had to pick one of them up from his stay at a sleepover.
From there, the SatNav had this crazy idea to take me to the military base via London which was NOT in the same direction so I ignored her and went back towards my house.
20 minutes into the drive, I came upon a roundabout and MY EXIT was closed.
Something you should know about England's road works. There's "Diversion" signs, but after they divert you off a road, they don't really care what happens to you.
Once I was bouncing along this little dirt road I had the option of going up on two wheels to get past an oncoming car or make everyone behind me back up. The guy behind me backed up but then did this crazy thing of pulling to the opposite side to get in a little pull-out area. Now the oncoming car could go nowhere and I couldn't get past her.
Finally, I got back in the direction I should be going, never ONCE seeing any other directional signs for the diversion.
I reached my appointment exactly on time. Whew!
But I forgot my ID in the car.
The hubby came and took the four kids.
The doctor took me seriously and sent me off to have a few pints of blood removed.
Only,
my body doesn't give up blood to just anybody who wants to poke needles in me.
I tried to tell them, but they never listen.
You'd think they'd get it that I have birthed 5 children, I've had a little blood work done in my lifetime.
But they wouldn't listen and were determined to use my right arm.
Finally, Obnoxious Lab Dude gave up and called in Lab Chick.
Failed. Several times. Left arm or right arm, the body was closed up tight.
At least she was nice.
I watched a baby have blood drawn, also a woman pregnant with twins, a woman wearing an Angels and Airwaves shirt so I talked Blink with her (she didn't want to talk either, wanted to keep her eyes closed and forget where she was) and a five year-old boy who was having NOTHING to do with a needle. All came in after me and all said good bye when they left.
Lab Chick called in new Nice Lab Dude who offered to do the draw if we were forced to go into the hand.
Then Super Lab Chick came. She had an accent I couldn't understand, but eventually I realized she was asking if I had had "Sgt. So and So" try to poke me yet as she gave up after a few tries.
I look like a pin cushion.
I didn't read any magazines and still don't know any more than I did when I went in.
Other than my blood pressure was normal--which is actually high for me--and a heart rate of 200 (yeah, that was messed up), I am a healthy (hopefully menopausal) woman.
Oh, they took blood for a pregnancy test too...
that might have affected the pulse rate, but not mine. The Hubby, who had "the" surgery almost 3 years ago, looked a little green around the gills when I told him about that test.
It wasn't quite as relaxing as we had all hoped-- in fact, I thought I might have a heart attack just trying to get there.
Oh, and Monday's appointment was cancelled because it was the ONLY time my hairdresser could get me in for a cut before my trip
Self:"Hmm, do I see the doctor about increasing dizzy spells or get my hair cut?"
Reasoning Self: "Well you could, but say he fixes dizzy spells and you go to Disney World with bad hair... Get the hair cut and that way, when you faint, at least you'll look good".
Me: "Yes, Monday sounds fine, I'll take that hair appointment, thank you".
So, luckily, the doctor had a different appointment for Thursday. Today. Still had four kids in tow. But first had to pick one of them up from his stay at a sleepover.
From there, the SatNav had this crazy idea to take me to the military base via London which was NOT in the same direction so I ignored her and went back towards my house.
20 minutes into the drive, I came upon a roundabout and MY EXIT was closed.
Something you should know about England's road works. There's "Diversion" signs, but after they divert you off a road, they don't really care what happens to you.
Once I was bouncing along this little dirt road I had the option of going up on two wheels to get past an oncoming car or make everyone behind me back up. The guy behind me backed up but then did this crazy thing of pulling to the opposite side to get in a little pull-out area. Now the oncoming car could go nowhere and I couldn't get past her.
Finally, I got back in the direction I should be going, never ONCE seeing any other directional signs for the diversion.
I reached my appointment exactly on time. Whew!
But I forgot my ID in the car.
The hubby came and took the four kids.
The doctor took me seriously and sent me off to have a few pints of blood removed.
Only,
my body doesn't give up blood to just anybody who wants to poke needles in me.
I tried to tell them, but they never listen.
You'd think they'd get it that I have birthed 5 children, I've had a little blood work done in my lifetime.
But they wouldn't listen and were determined to use my right arm.
Finally, Obnoxious Lab Dude gave up and called in Lab Chick.
Failed. Several times. Left arm or right arm, the body was closed up tight.
At least she was nice.
I watched a baby have blood drawn, also a woman pregnant with twins, a woman wearing an Angels and Airwaves shirt so I talked Blink with her (she didn't want to talk either, wanted to keep her eyes closed and forget where she was) and a five year-old boy who was having NOTHING to do with a needle. All came in after me and all said good bye when they left.
Lab Chick called in new Nice Lab Dude who offered to do the draw if we were forced to go into the hand.
Then Super Lab Chick came. She had an accent I couldn't understand, but eventually I realized she was asking if I had had "Sgt. So and So" try to poke me yet as she gave up after a few tries.
I look like a pin cushion.
I didn't read any magazines and still don't know any more than I did when I went in.
Other than my blood pressure was normal--which is actually high for me--and a heart rate of 200 (yeah, that was messed up), I am a healthy (hopefully menopausal) woman.
Oh, they took blood for a pregnancy test too...
that might have affected the pulse rate, but not mine. The Hubby, who had "the" surgery almost 3 years ago, looked a little green around the gills when I told him about that test.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
If I Were a Hamster, I'd Probably Get Further
Wanted to finish watching a movie, but a whim to make cookies struck.
Paused movie with subtitles for the fortieth time in 2 weeks.
On the way towards the bathroom to wash hands, J2 shouts, "Mom, come look! It's disgusting!"
Smart me waited for an exact description before bothering to head out.
It's a dead rabbit that used to be in the pond. It had been fished out with one of the Swing Ball paddles.
Instructions given to child to wash paddle immediately while I disposed of dead rabbit.
That reminded me that the tent had been left up too long and should be moved to save the grass.
Upon moving the tent, we discovered ants too numerable to count. And their eggs.
Something had to be done about the ants.
Ants sorted, the tarp the tent had been on was holding a bit of water.
Slid the tent off, only to discover the sleeping bags inside were making it too heavy.
Took them out.
Discovered they were wet.
Moved bags to laundry line.
Put tent in a sunny spot to air out.
Time to make cookies!
Washed hands, pulled out first four ingredients.
Dangit. Sugar has lumps.
Put sugars into kitchen aide and turned it on while I fetched the rest of the ingredients.
Not working.
I picked out the bigger lumps.
Miss Ky has made a poo.
Change the poo, wash my hands.
Miss Ky wants to blow bubbles.
Hand her one of the party favor bubbles we have in the pantry.
Tell her to put on shoes and go outside but she wants to wear her "coconut" (polka dot) shoes and they need to be tied.
My hands are clean.
I convince her to wear her wellies. She can't find them.
I instruct her to wear a pair of her brother's shoes and set her just outside the kitchen door with her bubbles.
A brother wants to join her.
Grab second bottle of bubbles.
Distracted, I know I need to pull the lever on the kitchen aide to lift the bowl, but instead hit the "on" switch and watch my fingers wrap into the whisk.
That was close! Nothing broken and not much pain.
Miss Ky comes in for another bottle of bubbles.
A different brother wants one too.
Miss Ky drops her bottle all over the floor.
Clean bubbles off of the tile floor.
Wash hands.
All ingredients now in the mixer, my thumb hurts.
I realize It's bleeding,
off to get a Hello Kitty band aid.
Miss Ky falls down and wants a bandaid.
I think I may cancel a doctor's appointment scheduled for Monday.
I was hoping he could tell me why I am so tired all of the time,
but I think I just figured it out on my own.
On second thought, maybe I'll keep that appointment.
At least there I might be able to read a whole magazine.
Paused movie with subtitles for the fortieth time in 2 weeks.
On the way towards the bathroom to wash hands, J2 shouts, "Mom, come look! It's disgusting!"
Smart me waited for an exact description before bothering to head out.
It's a dead rabbit that used to be in the pond. It had been fished out with one of the Swing Ball paddles.
Instructions given to child to wash paddle immediately while I disposed of dead rabbit.
That reminded me that the tent had been left up too long and should be moved to save the grass.
Upon moving the tent, we discovered ants too numerable to count. And their eggs.
Something had to be done about the ants.
Ants sorted, the tarp the tent had been on was holding a bit of water.
Slid the tent off, only to discover the sleeping bags inside were making it too heavy.
Took them out.
Discovered they were wet.
Moved bags to laundry line.
Put tent in a sunny spot to air out.
Time to make cookies!
Washed hands, pulled out first four ingredients.
Dangit. Sugar has lumps.
Put sugars into kitchen aide and turned it on while I fetched the rest of the ingredients.
Not working.
I picked out the bigger lumps.
Miss Ky has made a poo.
Change the poo, wash my hands.
Miss Ky wants to blow bubbles.
Hand her one of the party favor bubbles we have in the pantry.
Tell her to put on shoes and go outside but she wants to wear her "coconut" (polka dot) shoes and they need to be tied.
My hands are clean.
I convince her to wear her wellies. She can't find them.
I instruct her to wear a pair of her brother's shoes and set her just outside the kitchen door with her bubbles.
A brother wants to join her.
Grab second bottle of bubbles.
Distracted, I know I need to pull the lever on the kitchen aide to lift the bowl, but instead hit the "on" switch and watch my fingers wrap into the whisk.
That was close! Nothing broken and not much pain.
Miss Ky comes in for another bottle of bubbles.
A different brother wants one too.
Miss Ky drops her bottle all over the floor.
Clean bubbles off of the tile floor.
Wash hands.
All ingredients now in the mixer, my thumb hurts.
I realize It's bleeding,
off to get a Hello Kitty band aid.
Miss Ky falls down and wants a bandaid.
I think I may cancel a doctor's appointment scheduled for Monday.
I was hoping he could tell me why I am so tired all of the time,
but I think I just figured it out on my own.
On second thought, maybe I'll keep that appointment.
At least there I might be able to read a whole magazine.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
The Deep Questions of Life
Confession time:
I don't iron my sheets. Ever. I know, there goes my perfect woman image I've worked so hard to develop out here.
In fact, there's a very good chance that my sheets will go into a heap onto the sofa for the day while I finish up the other laundry and then get put onto the bed, in all their wrinkled glory, just before I'm ready to crawl into them. Hopefully they'll escape Miss Ky's Cheetos handprints and endless farting competitions that occur in that room.
I didn't even know that people actually ironed sheets until recently.
Unless your spouse is (becoming increasingly) OCD (like mine), chances are he/she just doesn't care. So why? Do you have a lot of guests come to your room? Snobs that secretly twitter to other friends, "You'll never believe what I am looking at right this very minute!"
The same people fold underwear.
I can kind of understand (if I reeeeally stretch) where you'd want pressed sheets at the end of a long day,
but could someone please enlighten me on the importance of having perfectly folded underpants?
Maybe you know something I don't.
Like maybe there's a safety report somewhere stating that homes with folded underpants burn slower than homes with undies shoved in askew among equally abused socks-- maybe the compactness of the drawer suffocates flames?
Or maybe there's a medical thesis trying to prove wrinkled granny panties cause vericose veins?
Seriously, do you fold or toss? Who taught you to do it? Why?
I'm just thinking there's more important things to do with the 2.15 minutes I gain by throwing my undies all willy nilly into a drawer, like picking chewing gum out of a certain toddler's hair. Or wiping urine off the toilet seat so that I don't sit in it...again.
I might even be able to whip out a post about nothing.
You never know.
I don't iron my sheets. Ever. I know, there goes my perfect woman image I've worked so hard to develop out here.
In fact, there's a very good chance that my sheets will go into a heap onto the sofa for the day while I finish up the other laundry and then get put onto the bed, in all their wrinkled glory, just before I'm ready to crawl into them. Hopefully they'll escape Miss Ky's Cheetos handprints and endless farting competitions that occur in that room.
I didn't even know that people actually ironed sheets until recently.
Unless your spouse is (becoming increasingly) OCD (like mine), chances are he/she just doesn't care. So why? Do you have a lot of guests come to your room? Snobs that secretly twitter to other friends, "You'll never believe what I am looking at right this very minute!"
The same people fold underwear.
I can kind of understand (if I reeeeally stretch) where you'd want pressed sheets at the end of a long day,
but could someone please enlighten me on the importance of having perfectly folded underpants?
Maybe you know something I don't.
Like maybe there's a safety report somewhere stating that homes with folded underpants burn slower than homes with undies shoved in askew among equally abused socks-- maybe the compactness of the drawer suffocates flames?
Or maybe there's a medical thesis trying to prove wrinkled granny panties cause vericose veins?
Seriously, do you fold or toss? Who taught you to do it? Why?
I'm just thinking there's more important things to do with the 2.15 minutes I gain by throwing my undies all willy nilly into a drawer, like picking chewing gum out of a certain toddler's hair. Or wiping urine off the toilet seat so that I don't sit in it...again.
I might even be able to whip out a post about nothing.
You never know.
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