My youngest daughter has a fish. She won him at the Octoberfest carnival that our school puts on each year. Instead of winning a baggie of water with a goldfish in it like when I was a kid, she won a little slip of paper that she needed to take to the pet store to claim her prize. It turns out that these fish would cost $0.20 if purchased outright. And the ticket to win the fish cost $1.00.
She won 14-tickets.
Two years ago, these $.20 fish cost us at least $25 per fish because we just had to buy the little tank, rocks, food and those drops that keep the fish from dying from Chlorine in the water. This year, I was able to dig out the tank and fill it up. The costs were much less, though we still had to purchase food and the drops.
Anyway, with 14-tickets, we've filled the tank up a few times. Being only a gallon tank and the fact that no one like over-crowded conditions, we only put in a couple/few at a time. Then the tickets expired and heaven forbid we should pay that $0.20 for more once they're no longer "free".
The current fish has been hardy enough to last quite a while. My daughter named him Mr. Gold. I call him Ernie (though Earnie would be funny, too.) Officially then, he's Mr. Ernie Gold.
This fish loves me. He follows me around the room. No, he can't walk around the room, but he can swim to each corner of his little tank to be as close to me as possible. And given that the tank is a rectangle with two clear sides, he faces me depending on which side of the tank I'm on. I haven't noticed that he does it for anyone else.
I don't know if he does it because I feed him and change his water or that I'm the one who spends the most time at home. Maybe it's because I'm probably the only one who pays any attention to him. The cat doesn't even pay attention to him anymore. It doesn't really matter, because I care about the welfare of this little guy now. I didn't want anymore pet fish, but now that I've grown attached to Ernie, I'm okay that he's still around.
Thursday, April 04, 2013
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Unclogging Things
I've been sick. It was just a cold and it came and went so quickly I thought I was 20-years-old again. But it didn't actually leave. I have something still or again or now that is like a Part Two version of my earlier easy ailment. Based on experience, I have the makings of bronchitis and a sinus infection.
My nose has been filling up so much that when I blow it, I swear there is an echo in my sinus cavity. It feels empty and lonely up in there. That sensation doesn't last long, but being empty is almost as uncomfortable as being stuffed up. I'm going to give the old Neti Pot a twirl pretty soon here. I've been downing Odwalla Vitamin C Monsters for days now and probably eroding my teeth in the process.
I don't feel as knocked down as I did with the cold, but I'm definitely not at 100% right now.
In the meantime, however, I fixed my washing machine all by myself! I have a front-loader, which I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE. My only complaint is that it doesn't get the clothes out of the hamper by itself, nor does it transfer the clothes into the dryer, but those are minor complaints in the grand scheme of things.
The other day when I was doing laundry (I swear, I'm not making this up, I actually did laundry!) my washer showed an error message. I ignored the message, got the washer to stop whatever it was doing, threw the clothes into the dryer and moved on. (Who knows if they were even clean!) Two loads later, I got another error message. This one was f21. I couldn't find my manual, which should be no surprise, so I Googled it. The forum I found said it was a clogged something or other and that it wassimple super complicated to fix. This made me want to do it myself.
I unscrewed the three nuts on the front panel, and this was seriously the hardest part. I had to make several trips to my tool boxes to figure out which wrench to use. The nut called for a socket and I found sockets, but not the wrench to attach them to. I ultimately found the Very Cool screw driver that we got for Christmas last year and promptly misplaced (putting it where it belongs does not guarantee that I'll be able to find it when I want it.) This screw driver had a socket set with it and one of the bits fit!
The Internet instructions said that when you un-do the thing that you're supposed to un-do after the front cover is removed there will be lots of water. Yes, I unplugged the machine. No, I didn't turn off the water main. The instructions said to have towels. A bucket would have been better, (it's on a pedestal) but no worries, I'll get the water sopped up soon.
The error message was from a clogged drain catch and sure enough, there was enough crap in there to choke a washer! Mostly it was just clumps and clumps of dog hair. And 5-quarters, 4-dimes, 2-nickels, 5-pennies, a 100-FRW* coin from Rwanda, and a small pebble. That means, that instead of hiring a plumber or washing machine repair man, I got paid $1.80 and whatever that coin from Rwanda is worth! I threw out the dog hair. I don't find that it's that valuable because there is so much of it here.
The clothes that were in when the error occurred are getting washed again and the towels used to sop up the mess are next. I'm feeling quite proud of my self-suffiency. That was quickly negated by the smoky fire I made in the fireplace without opening the flue. All in all, I think I'm still ahead, though.
*It turns out that this is a Rwandan Franc and at today's exchange rate would bring me $.16 making my grand total $1.96.
My nose has been filling up so much that when I blow it, I swear there is an echo in my sinus cavity. It feels empty and lonely up in there. That sensation doesn't last long, but being empty is almost as uncomfortable as being stuffed up. I'm going to give the old Neti Pot a twirl pretty soon here. I've been downing Odwalla Vitamin C Monsters for days now and probably eroding my teeth in the process.
I don't feel as knocked down as I did with the cold, but I'm definitely not at 100% right now.
In the meantime, however, I fixed my washing machine all by myself! I have a front-loader, which I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE. My only complaint is that it doesn't get the clothes out of the hamper by itself, nor does it transfer the clothes into the dryer, but those are minor complaints in the grand scheme of things.
The other day when I was doing laundry (I swear, I'm not making this up, I actually did laundry!) my washer showed an error message. I ignored the message, got the washer to stop whatever it was doing, threw the clothes into the dryer and moved on. (Who knows if they were even clean!) Two loads later, I got another error message. This one was f21. I couldn't find my manual, which should be no surprise, so I Googled it. The forum I found said it was a clogged something or other and that it was
I unscrewed the three nuts on the front panel, and this was seriously the hardest part. I had to make several trips to my tool boxes to figure out which wrench to use. The nut called for a socket and I found sockets, but not the wrench to attach them to. I ultimately found the Very Cool screw driver that we got for Christmas last year and promptly misplaced (putting it where it belongs does not guarantee that I'll be able to find it when I want it.) This screw driver had a socket set with it and one of the bits fit!
The Internet instructions said that when you un-do the thing that you're supposed to un-do after the front cover is removed there will be lots of water. Yes, I unplugged the machine. No, I didn't turn off the water main. The instructions said to have towels. A bucket would have been better, (it's on a pedestal) but no worries, I'll get the water sopped up soon.
The error message was from a clogged drain catch and sure enough, there was enough crap in there to choke a washer! Mostly it was just clumps and clumps of dog hair. And 5-quarters, 4-dimes, 2-nickels, 5-pennies, a 100-FRW* coin from Rwanda, and a small pebble. That means, that instead of hiring a plumber or washing machine repair man, I got paid $1.80 and whatever that coin from Rwanda is worth! I threw out the dog hair. I don't find that it's that valuable because there is so much of it here.
The clothes that were in when the error occurred are getting washed again and the towels used to sop up the mess are next. I'm feeling quite proud of my self-suffiency. That was quickly negated by the smoky fire I made in the fireplace without opening the flue. All in all, I think I'm still ahead, though.
*It turns out that this is a Rwandan Franc and at today's exchange rate would bring me $.16 making my grand total $1.96.
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Pieces Cobbled Together to Make a Whole
It's a funny phenomenon that when I post more, I have more to post. And in this case, the opposite is true. I sit at my blank screen with a dearth of ideas. A part of me wants to say something about gun control, but I've been avoiding even thinking about the tragedy in Connecticut because it makes me too sad.
And besides that, not a whole lot has happened that strikes me as worth writing about. At least not a whole post. So instead, I'm going to string together a bunch of minor things:
The other day a spider suddenly made a spastic appearance right next to me as I was typing away on my laptop. It could have jumped or fallen for all I know. I looked over and it was moving very quickly like it was trying to get away from fire.
Another, other day I was driving up my hill and one of my neighbors was driving down my hill and we almost got into a head-on collision. I got home and five-minutes later my heart was still racing. Other than that, I don't remember anything remarkable about the event at this point. Unfortunately, near-misses are not uncommon at one particular blind-curve near me.
My dining room chairs have gotten extremely uncomfortable. So has my couch, actually. While I'm sure I'm sitting entirely too much, I think it's time for me to re-upolster these chairs and add some padding. Maybe my behind has too little padding now. Maybe not. I can't do anything about the couch. That's not a padding issue, but more of a posture issue.
I've been more prepared for Christmas earlier this year than in the last few and it still seems like it's flying to hit me in the face. Perhaps because by "more prepared" I don't mean that I've got my shopping done. We got our Christmas tree early this year, which I LOVE! I've been listening to Christmas carols more. I ordered my Christmas cards early, though I didn't order enough, so some people are going to get something else. I wish I had a job, which puts a damper on me going overboard for my kids like usual, but there is still time for me to lose my senses.
Oh! I had a flat tire last week. I didn't change it myself, though. I pay about $50 a year to join the motor club and it's totally worth it. That, and by being a member I get my insurance through them and it's cheaper than the alternatives.
I'm going to go meet my husband for lunch. I'm excited. I don't ever meet him at work because we're something like 25-miles away, but I wanted to take advantage of my ability to do this before I start work again. If I ever start work again... Perhaps I'll post about my adventure, or my meal, or something weird that I see today. I guess at this point, you can only guess!
And besides that, not a whole lot has happened that strikes me as worth writing about. At least not a whole post. So instead, I'm going to string together a bunch of minor things:
The other day a spider suddenly made a spastic appearance right next to me as I was typing away on my laptop. It could have jumped or fallen for all I know. I looked over and it was moving very quickly like it was trying to get away from fire.
Another, other day I was driving up my hill and one of my neighbors was driving down my hill and we almost got into a head-on collision. I got home and five-minutes later my heart was still racing. Other than that, I don't remember anything remarkable about the event at this point. Unfortunately, near-misses are not uncommon at one particular blind-curve near me.
My dining room chairs have gotten extremely uncomfortable. So has my couch, actually. While I'm sure I'm sitting entirely too much, I think it's time for me to re-upolster these chairs and add some padding. Maybe my behind has too little padding now. Maybe not. I can't do anything about the couch. That's not a padding issue, but more of a posture issue.
I've been more prepared for Christmas earlier this year than in the last few and it still seems like it's flying to hit me in the face. Perhaps because by "more prepared" I don't mean that I've got my shopping done. We got our Christmas tree early this year, which I LOVE! I've been listening to Christmas carols more. I ordered my Christmas cards early, though I didn't order enough, so some people are going to get something else. I wish I had a job, which puts a damper on me going overboard for my kids like usual, but there is still time for me to lose my senses.
Oh! I had a flat tire last week. I didn't change it myself, though. I pay about $50 a year to join the motor club and it's totally worth it. That, and by being a member I get my insurance through them and it's cheaper than the alternatives.
I'm going to go meet my husband for lunch. I'm excited. I don't ever meet him at work because we're something like 25-miles away, but I wanted to take advantage of my ability to do this before I start work again. If I ever start work again... Perhaps I'll post about my adventure, or my meal, or something weird that I see today. I guess at this point, you can only guess!
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Barky Boulevard
I was going to write about another scary topic - lice! And how we discovered that we had it again this morning. But that only one of my daughters had it and even though I was itching like crazy it was only in my head not on my head and I was free and clear.
Instead, I'm going to tell you about my afternoon on Barky Boulevard. There is a woman who walks up my street talking on her cell phone. I'll say she does it everyday, but I've only noticed it the last two-days in a row. She walks up the street chattering away and as soon as she passes my house, she sets off the Bark-A-Thon. My dog barks and the neighbor's two dogs bark and it doesn't stop until she turns around at the top of the hill and comes back down again. Those two dogs don't need any encouragement either, let me tell you.
My neighbor is great and I'm trying to be understanding, but this is really too much. The dogs bark like there is a contest to see which one of them can go the longest and they are both too competitive to lose, if you know what I mean.
The fact that I was standing out on my front deck sweeping didn't have anything to do with their state of frenzy, I'm sure. But while I was there, clearing the front of my house out from under the pine needles washed out of the tree by the recent rain, I was thinking about Halloween decorations again. I'd like to put my man out there, but with the rain, I don't want soggy, mildew-y clothes come next week.
And for the record, the dogs are still barking and I've been inside as long as it's taken me to write this.
Instead, I'm going to tell you about my afternoon on Barky Boulevard. There is a woman who walks up my street talking on her cell phone. I'll say she does it everyday, but I've only noticed it the last two-days in a row. She walks up the street chattering away and as soon as she passes my house, she sets off the Bark-A-Thon. My dog barks and the neighbor's two dogs bark and it doesn't stop until she turns around at the top of the hill and comes back down again. Those two dogs don't need any encouragement either, let me tell you.
My neighbor is great and I'm trying to be understanding, but this is really too much. The dogs bark like there is a contest to see which one of them can go the longest and they are both too competitive to lose, if you know what I mean.
The fact that I was standing out on my front deck sweeping didn't have anything to do with their state of frenzy, I'm sure. But while I was there, clearing the front of my house out from under the pine needles washed out of the tree by the recent rain, I was thinking about Halloween decorations again. I'd like to put my man out there, but with the rain, I don't want soggy, mildew-y clothes come next week.
And for the record, the dogs are still barking and I've been inside as long as it's taken me to write this.
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Scary Season
I love Halloween! I love just about everything about it, too. When I met my husband, he told me that it was his favorite holiday, which I thought was quite clever. In fact, we officially started dating in late October and we saw Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein on our first date. I did think it was odd that the first Halloween we spent together he didn't dress up, but we walked around the Castro district back when hundreds of thousands of people used to show up for the party. Maybe they still do, I wouldn't know.
Anyway, I feel a little lame-o since our only decoration - so far - is a skeleton hanging on our front door, especially since most of our neighbors have gone all out with the spider webs, fake tombstones, body parts and crashed witches in their yards.
Walking the dog today, I was admiring a yard with two skeletal hands emerging from the grass when I tripped over a dead body. You know when you step on something that gives a little and you know it's not right? It was quite shocking that the body would be laying in the street unmolested, perhaps a little warm still. And my dog didn't even notice it! Not that he's in the habit of being attracted by the dead.
Considering that it was amidst so many holiday decorations, it would be easy to imagine that it was part of the scenery or even fake. But no. It was definitely a dead thing and it was very real. I kept going, ignoring the poor squirrel because I wouldn't know what to do with it. Should I have carried it home with me to put in my trash bin - or better yet, perform a small burial and funeral ceremony to commemorate what was most certainly a short life?
I did nothing. I walked on thinking about diseases that jump from animal host to human and tried to recall that rodent-borne one's name. Is it Heppa? Hanta? Hinta? (Hantavirus) And my reward for my cowardice? Further along in my walk I came across a small patch of fur. It looked like some poor critter was scalped. Very disturbing. Very apropos, unfortunately, in this scary season. My lame-o decorations seem just a little bit more fine now.
Anyway, I feel a little lame-o since our only decoration - so far - is a skeleton hanging on our front door, especially since most of our neighbors have gone all out with the spider webs, fake tombstones, body parts and crashed witches in their yards.
Walking the dog today, I was admiring a yard with two skeletal hands emerging from the grass when I tripped over a dead body. You know when you step on something that gives a little and you know it's not right? It was quite shocking that the body would be laying in the street unmolested, perhaps a little warm still. And my dog didn't even notice it! Not that he's in the habit of being attracted by the dead.
Considering that it was amidst so many holiday decorations, it would be easy to imagine that it was part of the scenery or even fake. But no. It was definitely a dead thing and it was very real. I kept going, ignoring the poor squirrel because I wouldn't know what to do with it. Should I have carried it home with me to put in my trash bin - or better yet, perform a small burial and funeral ceremony to commemorate what was most certainly a short life?
I did nothing. I walked on thinking about diseases that jump from animal host to human and tried to recall that rodent-borne one's name. Is it Heppa? Hanta? Hinta? (Hantavirus) And my reward for my cowardice? Further along in my walk I came across a small patch of fur. It looked like some poor critter was scalped. Very disturbing. Very apropos, unfortunately, in this scary season. My lame-o decorations seem just a little bit more fine now.
Friday, October 19, 2012
I've been channeling my inner Oscar lately. Oscar the Grouch, that is. Though, I've always loved Oscar Madison. Both are a bit messy, which might be why I can identify with them.
I'm on my third and hopefully final day of my latest migraine. I've been suffering as if I had a cloud hovering over and through my head while having to bear the weight of the world on my tired shoulders. I've been grumpy and glum and if anyone would let me hide away with a lid on my tiny enclosed space, I would have. There is a lot of sleeping involved and without the proper kind or amount of medicine to take away the pain, I've wondered yet again, why I haven't gotten some sort of prescription for this monstrous burden.
Not that it would help. Or so my fellow migraine sufferers complain, too.
After another nap this morning, I felt the fog had lifted and I was feeling much better, though still in pain, strangely enough. And I just remembered the post that I wanted to write. I'll make it another entry, though, and instead, I'll tell you about my tap-dancing dog.
I was walking my dog the other morning when I noticed him moving his front paw funny when he walked. It was almost like a limp, but it also reminded me of those horses that can count. As I watched this strange behavior, I heard a tap-tap every time he put his foot down on the pavement. In his own way - or in the way in which we anthropomorphize our pets, he was smiling at me like Gene Kelly in Singing in the Rain. (A movie I finally saw after all these years of pop culture references.)
I reached down to my dogs foot to find that he had a half walnut shell stuck to one of his pads. Clever dog found a way to make tap shoes. Or shoe. When I removed the shell, the smile seemed to disappear. Then again, there was grass to be eaten.
I'm on my third and hopefully final day of my latest migraine. I've been suffering as if I had a cloud hovering over and through my head while having to bear the weight of the world on my tired shoulders. I've been grumpy and glum and if anyone would let me hide away with a lid on my tiny enclosed space, I would have. There is a lot of sleeping involved and without the proper kind or amount of medicine to take away the pain, I've wondered yet again, why I haven't gotten some sort of prescription for this monstrous burden.
Not that it would help. Or so my fellow migraine sufferers complain, too.
After another nap this morning, I felt the fog had lifted and I was feeling much better, though still in pain, strangely enough. And I just remembered the post that I wanted to write. I'll make it another entry, though, and instead, I'll tell you about my tap-dancing dog.
I was walking my dog the other morning when I noticed him moving his front paw funny when he walked. It was almost like a limp, but it also reminded me of those horses that can count. As I watched this strange behavior, I heard a tap-tap every time he put his foot down on the pavement. In his own way - or in the way in which we anthropomorphize our pets, he was smiling at me like Gene Kelly in Singing in the Rain. (A movie I finally saw after all these years of pop culture references.)
I reached down to my dogs foot to find that he had a half walnut shell stuck to one of his pads. Clever dog found a way to make tap shoes. Or shoe. When I removed the shell, the smile seemed to disappear. Then again, there was grass to be eaten.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Losing and Learning
So, when I was at the dentist yesterday...just kidding. No more dentist entries. At least until I forget or find myself full of self-indulgence.
I wanted to give you an update about my weight-loss. One more pound made ten. Then I crept up a smidgeon, but I'm holding steady. The Atkins book that I was using was a library book and I had to return it. I'm going to look for a copy at the used book sale at our school's big carnival fundraiser on Saturday. If I don't find one there, I'll buy it for a penny on Amazon.
You are dying to know if anyone noticed if I lost weight after I cut my hair, aren't you? Only one person noticed. And do you know who it was? No, of course you don't. It was the very friendly woman who helped us out at my daughter's Orthodontist. Yes, another reason to love going there! I'll leave it at that, though, because you don't want to hear how my daughter got braces on the bottom teeth yesterday.
To me, losing ten-pounds has been huge. It has made a significant difference in so many things from the way my clothes fit to the fact that my left ankle doesn't swell anymore. But also, when I'm following the diet more strictly, I don't get tired and my energy level sky-rockets! Who doesn't want more energy? Don't get me wrong, I love my coffee more than most people, but it works better when I'm not starting at a negative energy level and rising to zero just to get through my day.
The other big, Big, BIG, thing that I've noticed is that if I have just one Ice Cold Pleasure Unit (beer) at the end of the day, I feel crappy the next morning. Not crappy in a hangover kind of way, but in a someone just gave me a transfusion-with-molasses kind of way. I have a ZERO energy morning after a just one beer night. It's almost enough to stop drinking them! And yes, I know they are not on Atkins. I've been slipping. I told you I was.
Life is nothing if not a learning process. And I'm all about learning.
I wanted to give you an update about my weight-loss. One more pound made ten. Then I crept up a smidgeon, but I'm holding steady. The Atkins book that I was using was a library book and I had to return it. I'm going to look for a copy at the used book sale at our school's big carnival fundraiser on Saturday. If I don't find one there, I'll buy it for a penny on Amazon.
You are dying to know if anyone noticed if I lost weight after I cut my hair, aren't you? Only one person noticed. And do you know who it was? No, of course you don't. It was the very friendly woman who helped us out at my daughter's Orthodontist. Yes, another reason to love going there! I'll leave it at that, though, because you don't want to hear how my daughter got braces on the bottom teeth yesterday.
To me, losing ten-pounds has been huge. It has made a significant difference in so many things from the way my clothes fit to the fact that my left ankle doesn't swell anymore. But also, when I'm following the diet more strictly, I don't get tired and my energy level sky-rockets! Who doesn't want more energy? Don't get me wrong, I love my coffee more than most people, but it works better when I'm not starting at a negative energy level and rising to zero just to get through my day.
The other big, Big, BIG, thing that I've noticed is that if I have just one Ice Cold Pleasure Unit (beer) at the end of the day, I feel crappy the next morning. Not crappy in a hangover kind of way, but in a someone just gave me a transfusion-with-molasses kind of way. I have a ZERO energy morning after a just one beer night. It's almost enough to stop drinking them! And yes, I know they are not on Atkins. I've been slipping. I told you I was.
Life is nothing if not a learning process. And I'm all about learning.
Thursday, October 04, 2012
Long-winded Telling of Two Dental Visits That Went Very Well
I've written a lot about my adventures and misadventures with dentists, but this time, I'd like to write about my kids' dentists. I'm so thoroughly impressed with my experiences lately that I have to share.
First of all, my oldest daughter started to complain about a pain in her tooth. She mentioned it, then I didn't hear about it again for a while. I must have forgotten and pains don't usually stop for no reason, but she mentioned it again a week or so later. I asked, "Still?" And yes, same pain, hadn't gone away. Did she want to go to the dentist? Yes, but not during school hours.
We were busy, mind you. We were settling into our new school year. I called our regular dentist and found out that she had just had a baby! She was on maternity leave and her receptionist gave me a number for a substitute dentist. I called the new dentist, made an appointment, and got some mumbo jumbo about how they don't bill our insurance company and I have to file all the paperwork myself.
My daughter didn't want to miss school and rejected this appointment. I called back to cancel. About a week later, I remembered to try again and checked in with her Orthodontist to see if they could recommend another dentist. She called this substitute dentist and called me back. They would help me and I'm not to worry about insurance paperwork.
I called the substitute dentist again and they had no recollection of that first conversation and got us in right away. By this time, my daughter was going to miss some school, like it or not. That tooth had to be taken care of already!
When my daughter was at this dentist's office, he initially suspected that when one of the two roots on this tooth dissolved as the permanent tooth started coming in, the tooth itself sort of flapped up and got something stuck underneath, causing an abscess. Just to be sure, he did an x-ray.
It turned out that she had a massive cavity on the backside of that tooth, but that the root was also dissolving unevenly causing an abscess. He pulled the tooth. Sure, the massive cavity was a problem, but the root issue wasn't something we could have done anything about. The tooth was pulled immediately and she was out of there within 45-minutes start to finish.
A side note about this:
When my daughter was born, she had a defect in one of her valves. It was easily corrected by surgery. (And by easily, I mean the surgery was easy for the doctor, but one of the hardest days EVER for me as a parent!) Her bi-annual visit to her Cardiologist just the day before revealed that her biggest risk to heart would be an abscessed tooth. (I simplify, but you get the picture.)
So, the tooth was taken care of, lickety-split by a dentist who was substituting for our regular dentist. I was SO impressed, SO grateful and SO relieved! If I didn't love our current dentist so much, I would switch in a heartbeat. I may even check to see if they treat adults there. I don't need to get a prize when I'm done, but I love the professionalism.
But that's not all!
My youngest daughter had a wire pop out of her braces and it was causing her a lot of grief. As it turned out, the wire rotated, making one side longer, thus poking her painfully in the cheek, while making the other side was shorter, and therefore not long enough to stay in place.
I picked her up from school and she said she needed to get in right away. We drove over there, not even knowing if they were open. Sure enough, the door was locked and the lights were out. She wiggled the second door handle and someone opened it for us. I'm not sure what this woman's official role is, but while she sits at the receptionist desk, she comes across to me as the sort of person within an office who can do everything and runs the show from behind the scenes. I love her!
Even though she didn't have the skill-set to help us specifically, she offered up what help she could, even plucking out some tools in case I wanted to cut the wire until my daughter's scheduled appointment two-days later. When this wasn't going to solve our problem (I didn't cut a thing) she called in one of the dental assistants (again, I don't know the job title!) who came in on her day off to make the wire adjustment. She arrived within five-minutes of the call, and we were out five-minutes after that.
Amazing! Both my girls were taken care of so well and so quickly. And the professionalism and courtesy we experienced were absolutely outstanding. I'm so impressed!
Am I gushing? I don't care. I'd gush all day about this!
First of all, my oldest daughter started to complain about a pain in her tooth. She mentioned it, then I didn't hear about it again for a while. I must have forgotten and pains don't usually stop for no reason, but she mentioned it again a week or so later. I asked, "Still?" And yes, same pain, hadn't gone away. Did she want to go to the dentist? Yes, but not during school hours.
We were busy, mind you. We were settling into our new school year. I called our regular dentist and found out that she had just had a baby! She was on maternity leave and her receptionist gave me a number for a substitute dentist. I called the new dentist, made an appointment, and got some mumbo jumbo about how they don't bill our insurance company and I have to file all the paperwork myself.
My daughter didn't want to miss school and rejected this appointment. I called back to cancel. About a week later, I remembered to try again and checked in with her Orthodontist to see if they could recommend another dentist. She called this substitute dentist and called me back. They would help me and I'm not to worry about insurance paperwork.
I called the substitute dentist again and they had no recollection of that first conversation and got us in right away. By this time, my daughter was going to miss some school, like it or not. That tooth had to be taken care of already!
When my daughter was at this dentist's office, he initially suspected that when one of the two roots on this tooth dissolved as the permanent tooth started coming in, the tooth itself sort of flapped up and got something stuck underneath, causing an abscess. Just to be sure, he did an x-ray.
It turned out that she had a massive cavity on the backside of that tooth, but that the root was also dissolving unevenly causing an abscess. He pulled the tooth. Sure, the massive cavity was a problem, but the root issue wasn't something we could have done anything about. The tooth was pulled immediately and she was out of there within 45-minutes start to finish.
A side note about this:
When my daughter was born, she had a defect in one of her valves. It was easily corrected by surgery. (And by easily, I mean the surgery was easy for the doctor, but one of the hardest days EVER for me as a parent!) Her bi-annual visit to her Cardiologist just the day before revealed that her biggest risk to heart would be an abscessed tooth. (I simplify, but you get the picture.)
So, the tooth was taken care of, lickety-split by a dentist who was substituting for our regular dentist. I was SO impressed, SO grateful and SO relieved! If I didn't love our current dentist so much, I would switch in a heartbeat. I may even check to see if they treat adults there. I don't need to get a prize when I'm done, but I love the professionalism.
But that's not all!
My youngest daughter had a wire pop out of her braces and it was causing her a lot of grief. As it turned out, the wire rotated, making one side longer, thus poking her painfully in the cheek, while making the other side was shorter, and therefore not long enough to stay in place.
I picked her up from school and she said she needed to get in right away. We drove over there, not even knowing if they were open. Sure enough, the door was locked and the lights were out. She wiggled the second door handle and someone opened it for us. I'm not sure what this woman's official role is, but while she sits at the receptionist desk, she comes across to me as the sort of person within an office who can do everything and runs the show from behind the scenes. I love her!
Even though she didn't have the skill-set to help us specifically, she offered up what help she could, even plucking out some tools in case I wanted to cut the wire until my daughter's scheduled appointment two-days later. When this wasn't going to solve our problem (I didn't cut a thing) she called in one of the dental assistants (again, I don't know the job title!) who came in on her day off to make the wire adjustment. She arrived within five-minutes of the call, and we were out five-minutes after that.
Amazing! Both my girls were taken care of so well and so quickly. And the professionalism and courtesy we experienced were absolutely outstanding. I'm so impressed!
Am I gushing? I don't care. I'd gush all day about this!
Tuesday, October 02, 2012
Spiders and Cake
If you really must know, I write the best posts in my head. And while it may look like I've been MIA, I've been very prolific in the ether.
Then, today, as I was making my coffee, a spider crawled into the water reservoir. It crawled out, then in again and back out. The vacuum was handy, but before I went for the vacuum, I noticed another similar - perhaps twin - spider crawling on the wall not six-inches from the coffee pot. They're gone now. May they rest in peace and come back next life as a cat and I will love them.
My husband has been taking care of the spiders on the outside of our home lately, and I haven't noticed as many inside. It's a pleasant surprise to realize that I don't know when the last time I encountered a spider was. Though, now that I think of it, I know when it happened.
The last time a spider crossed my path, the path was on my arm while I was in 99%-asleep-mode. I felt it crawling and I put my drowsy pincher-grasp on it and felt the heft of it as I threw it across the room. This was not a spindly cellar spider or an insignificant wisp of a thing. Nope, this was the size of a dime or a nickel with fatty legs. It was probably black and hairy, now that I think of it, too. Fortunately, I didn't see it and was asleep enough to deal with it without getting freaked out.
I think I wrote about this episode before, but it may have been in my head. Forgive the duplication if I'm boring you.
What I really meant to write about today, though, was the fact that I've lost nine-pounds. It's a long, boring story how it happened, but I decided to try Atkins. It has really changed my life. Not only is nine-pounds wow all on its own, but did you know that my pants don't fall down now? Yes, that's right, the roll of fat around my middle pushed my pants down (think apple) so I was constantly pulling them up. Now, however, they stay up because the middle isn't bigger than the under-middle. Yay!
Funny thing, though. I've lost nine-pounds and not a single person has noticed (besides my husband, who has been very supportive)! I see it missing from my face the most. I don't look as puffy or round as I used to and I can't believe that it isn't totally obvious to everyone.
In a completely unrelated side-story, I got my haircut today. I had really long hair then cut it to my shoulders and today I cut it to chin length. I love it. It's so me. And what I think is that now that I've cut my hair, people may notice that I've lost weight. We'll see. I've got more to go.
You may be wondering how I'm doing without all the sweets that I love. And that is a valid question. The answer is: I'm doing fine. We've had Hostess Donettes sitting on our counter for a few days and I haven't had a one. My only indulgences have been a slice of pie and two slices of cake on my birthday. In my defense, I shared the pie with my best friend and the cake was for my birthday!
I have more to say, of course, and I'll have to hold my tongue until the next entry...
Then, today, as I was making my coffee, a spider crawled into the water reservoir. It crawled out, then in again and back out. The vacuum was handy, but before I went for the vacuum, I noticed another similar - perhaps twin - spider crawling on the wall not six-inches from the coffee pot. They're gone now. May they rest in peace and come back next life as a cat and I will love them.
My husband has been taking care of the spiders on the outside of our home lately, and I haven't noticed as many inside. It's a pleasant surprise to realize that I don't know when the last time I encountered a spider was. Though, now that I think of it, I know when it happened.
The last time a spider crossed my path, the path was on my arm while I was in 99%-asleep-mode. I felt it crawling and I put my drowsy pincher-grasp on it and felt the heft of it as I threw it across the room. This was not a spindly cellar spider or an insignificant wisp of a thing. Nope, this was the size of a dime or a nickel with fatty legs. It was probably black and hairy, now that I think of it, too. Fortunately, I didn't see it and was asleep enough to deal with it without getting freaked out.
I think I wrote about this episode before, but it may have been in my head. Forgive the duplication if I'm boring you.
What I really meant to write about today, though, was the fact that I've lost nine-pounds. It's a long, boring story how it happened, but I decided to try Atkins. It has really changed my life. Not only is nine-pounds wow all on its own, but did you know that my pants don't fall down now? Yes, that's right, the roll of fat around my middle pushed my pants down (think apple) so I was constantly pulling them up. Now, however, they stay up because the middle isn't bigger than the under-middle. Yay!
Funny thing, though. I've lost nine-pounds and not a single person has noticed (besides my husband, who has been very supportive)! I see it missing from my face the most. I don't look as puffy or round as I used to and I can't believe that it isn't totally obvious to everyone.
In a completely unrelated side-story, I got my haircut today. I had really long hair then cut it to my shoulders and today I cut it to chin length. I love it. It's so me. And what I think is that now that I've cut my hair, people may notice that I've lost weight. We'll see. I've got more to go.
You may be wondering how I'm doing without all the sweets that I love. And that is a valid question. The answer is: I'm doing fine. We've had Hostess Donettes sitting on our counter for a few days and I haven't had a one. My only indulgences have been a slice of pie and two slices of cake on my birthday. In my defense, I shared the pie with my best friend and the cake was for my birthday!
I have more to say, of course, and I'll have to hold my tongue until the next entry...
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
The Last Filling - EVER!
I went to the dentist yesterday. I know you love to hear about my dental visits, so I won't disappoint. Of course, you should have read the post yesterday - the one I created with my imaginary keyboard while sitting in the chair. I can't re-create it because I don't remember anything. Well, just bits and pieces.
My dentist starts off by leaning in to give me a shot to numb me, when I stopped him to ask for my nitrous. "Oh, did you want that?" "Why yes, I do, thankyouverymuch." I breathed that stuff for a while and I could have sworn that it wasn't even turned on. But even if it wasn't, I'll take the placebo effect any day over no effect at all. It was probably on, though, because after a while, felt less and less. Then again, on or off, not feeling is my goal, so it worked.
I won't bother you with details of how he thought I was numb and when the drill hit my tooth, I wasn't quite numb. That stuff gets boring to write and must be boring to read since it happens over and over again. I will say, though, that I was stinkin' numb when all was said and done. I was so numb that I still couldn't eat by the time I picked up my youngest from school.
I will bother to tell you that I don't intend to ever have another cavity again for the rest of my life. Since my last visit and admonition that the cavities I have been dealing with are in-between teeth and I need to floss, I've been the Flossing Queen! Every day. Every. Day.
There were a couple of funny things that happened, but I just don't remember what they were. We talked about Mitt Romney and hunting. That's funny if you know me. Actually, I didn't do too much talking since my mouth was full of hardware, but there is always the illusion that there is a conversation going on at the time, isn't there?
All in all, the only reason I'm writing this post about my dental visit at all is because here it is, 24-hours later and my jaw still hurts. It's a good thing I'll never need another filling again!
My dentist starts off by leaning in to give me a shot to numb me, when I stopped him to ask for my nitrous. "Oh, did you want that?" "Why yes, I do, thankyouverymuch." I breathed that stuff for a while and I could have sworn that it wasn't even turned on. But even if it wasn't, I'll take the placebo effect any day over no effect at all. It was probably on, though, because after a while, felt less and less. Then again, on or off, not feeling is my goal, so it worked.
I won't bother you with details of how he thought I was numb and when the drill hit my tooth, I wasn't quite numb. That stuff gets boring to write and must be boring to read since it happens over and over again. I will say, though, that I was stinkin' numb when all was said and done. I was so numb that I still couldn't eat by the time I picked up my youngest from school.
I will bother to tell you that I don't intend to ever have another cavity again for the rest of my life. Since my last visit and admonition that the cavities I have been dealing with are in-between teeth and I need to floss, I've been the Flossing Queen! Every day. Every. Day.
There were a couple of funny things that happened, but I just don't remember what they were. We talked about Mitt Romney and hunting. That's funny if you know me. Actually, I didn't do too much talking since my mouth was full of hardware, but there is always the illusion that there is a conversation going on at the time, isn't there?
All in all, the only reason I'm writing this post about my dental visit at all is because here it is, 24-hours later and my jaw still hurts. It's a good thing I'll never need another filling again!
Thursday, September 06, 2012
Mud, Grass, Poop
I took my dog for a walk on the Fox Loop today. That's what I call a side loop off the Fawn Loop, that I don't do since the Bullying Incident. I like it. I never see anyone else and I can let my dog off leash pretty confidently.
As were were coming back down the hill, amongst the dry yellow grasses that dominate our landscape right now, he managed to find a mud puddle. I assure you that it's the only mud puddle within a hundred miles. He's good like that.
After muddying up his paws, he started to eat the green grass. It's the only green grass on the entire walk - or so I thought, but more on that in a bit. He was minding his own business mowing down his morning salad when a barking dog appeared at the fence across the street. I don't know if the dog saw my dog, but I was standing looking at this dog then at mine, then back at this dog. My dog did not care that there was another dog to pay attention to. He wanted to eat grass and was not to be distracted from this task.
The barking dog attracted the attention of its owner, who whistled for him. You know the whistle, the one that sounds like you're tying a knot. Coincidentally, that is the same whistle that I use for Mooch. He heard it and perked up his ears and ran to the fence to tease the dog about being locked up. I called my dog off and he gave up his antagonism almost too easily, probably because he was happy about the mud and grass. I just thought it was funny that the other owner basically called my dog's attention to her own barking dog. He otherwise wouldn't have cared.
Further down the hill, Mooch found some more grass in front of someone else's house. It's also known as a lawn. I don't let my dog walk in other people's yards because I don't feel it's polite. My dog, though, loves grass and my usual command, "Get out of the yard" wasn't working like it always does. As he wandered around the yard, taunting me to come in and get him, we both spotted the fountain bubbling water at the same time. I got to him just as he got to the fountain and started drinking. I got him back on his leash but not before imagining what we must have looked like had the owner arrived just then to see a woman with a dog on a leash while the dog was drinking out of the fountain.
While talking about dogs and yards and being polite, I feel badly for people who have their yards pooped in so much they feel compelled to put up a sign to deter this behavior. You know the ones:
I'll have to come back with a picture.
What bothers me most about the signs, besides the fact that they're as unattractive as the poop is, is that the dog's tail is pointing up in the picture. When dogs poop, the tail curves down. Clearly these are not dog people!
As were were coming back down the hill, amongst the dry yellow grasses that dominate our landscape right now, he managed to find a mud puddle. I assure you that it's the only mud puddle within a hundred miles. He's good like that.
After muddying up his paws, he started to eat the green grass. It's the only green grass on the entire walk - or so I thought, but more on that in a bit. He was minding his own business mowing down his morning salad when a barking dog appeared at the fence across the street. I don't know if the dog saw my dog, but I was standing looking at this dog then at mine, then back at this dog. My dog did not care that there was another dog to pay attention to. He wanted to eat grass and was not to be distracted from this task.
The barking dog attracted the attention of its owner, who whistled for him. You know the whistle, the one that sounds like you're tying a knot. Coincidentally, that is the same whistle that I use for Mooch. He heard it and perked up his ears and ran to the fence to tease the dog about being locked up. I called my dog off and he gave up his antagonism almost too easily, probably because he was happy about the mud and grass. I just thought it was funny that the other owner basically called my dog's attention to her own barking dog. He otherwise wouldn't have cared.
Further down the hill, Mooch found some more grass in front of someone else's house. It's also known as a lawn. I don't let my dog walk in other people's yards because I don't feel it's polite. My dog, though, loves grass and my usual command, "Get out of the yard" wasn't working like it always does. As he wandered around the yard, taunting me to come in and get him, we both spotted the fountain bubbling water at the same time. I got to him just as he got to the fountain and started drinking. I got him back on his leash but not before imagining what we must have looked like had the owner arrived just then to see a woman with a dog on a leash while the dog was drinking out of the fountain.
While talking about dogs and yards and being polite, I feel badly for people who have their yards pooped in so much they feel compelled to put up a sign to deter this behavior. You know the ones:
I'll have to come back with a picture.
What bothers me most about the signs, besides the fact that they're as unattractive as the poop is, is that the dog's tail is pointing up in the picture. When dogs poop, the tail curves down. Clearly these are not dog people!
Wednesday, September 05, 2012
Happy Anniversary
Yesterday was my anniversary. My husband and I have been married for 13-years now. I spent a lot of time yesterday strolling down memory lane and viewing all the landmarks on the side of the road.
We met at work. I had a part-time job while going to college and threw myself into it, as I always do. He worked full-time, like people do when they're finished with school. I call him my college sweetheart, though, since we met while I was still attending.
We started out as friends. He made me laugh and was so easy to talk to. I spent entirely too much time at his desk discussing one thing or other that may or may not have been related to work. And if he left early, my heart sank. It wasn't the same without him there. We used to take long lunches and he introduced me to interesting parts of San Francisco that I wasn't familiar with. I still think he's one of the smartest people that I've ever met.
Did I mention that he has the most amazing blue eyes? I call them Holder Blues. I used to get lost in them and forget what I was saying all the time.
And then we were a couple. And then we used to sail his Etchells together. He taught me everything I know and I felt so completely safe on the boat with him, even when it was blowing like stink. We got engaged on the Etchells in gale force winds, or at least they felt like it. He asked if I would like to spend the rest of my life doing this. I said yes.
We got married on the 86' schooner Kaiulani. We sailed around the Bay with friends and family and said our vows in Raccoon Straights between Tiburon and Angel Island. It was a beautiful and fun three hour tour.
After that, I graduated from college and started working, just to stop within a short time to have our babies. Two beautiful little girls, who aren't so little anymore. I raced the Etchells in San Diego while pregnant with each of them. Sailing until I couldn't move around as easily or travel.
Now our girls sail and our family has come back to this thing that I love so much. It's like we've made some kind of circumnavigation of life. My husband and I are racing the Etchells again this year in San Francisco Bay, but conflicts keep me out of the water more than I like. I live vicariously through my daughters' sailing programs and I am so very proud of them. I'd also like to mention that one of them inherited the Holder Blues.
So, 13-years later, through smooth sailing and stormy weather, my husband and I can really celebrate a wonderful adventure and I look forward to whatever lies ahead. Happy anniversary, indeed.
We met at work. I had a part-time job while going to college and threw myself into it, as I always do. He worked full-time, like people do when they're finished with school. I call him my college sweetheart, though, since we met while I was still attending.
We started out as friends. He made me laugh and was so easy to talk to. I spent entirely too much time at his desk discussing one thing or other that may or may not have been related to work. And if he left early, my heart sank. It wasn't the same without him there. We used to take long lunches and he introduced me to interesting parts of San Francisco that I wasn't familiar with. I still think he's one of the smartest people that I've ever met.
Did I mention that he has the most amazing blue eyes? I call them Holder Blues. I used to get lost in them and forget what I was saying all the time.
 |
| What a cutie-pie! |
And then we were a couple. And then we used to sail his Etchells together. He taught me everything I know and I felt so completely safe on the boat with him, even when it was blowing like stink. We got engaged on the Etchells in gale force winds, or at least they felt like it. He asked if I would like to spend the rest of my life doing this. I said yes.
We got married on the 86' schooner Kaiulani. We sailed around the Bay with friends and family and said our vows in Raccoon Straights between Tiburon and Angel Island. It was a beautiful and fun three hour tour.
 |
| Ceremony performed by Capt'n Rob |
Now our girls sail and our family has come back to this thing that I love so much. It's like we've made some kind of circumnavigation of life. My husband and I are racing the Etchells again this year in San Francisco Bay, but conflicts keep me out of the water more than I like. I live vicariously through my daughters' sailing programs and I am so very proud of them. I'd also like to mention that one of them inherited the Holder Blues.
So, 13-years later, through smooth sailing and stormy weather, my husband and I can really celebrate a wonderful adventure and I look forward to whatever lies ahead. Happy anniversary, indeed.
 |
| Sailor Girl ready for adventure! |
Friday, August 31, 2012
Birds, Bats, Rats, Owls and Raccoons
I feel pretty good right now. It may have something to do with the three (THREE!) cups of coffee I had this morning before walking my dog. It could also be that I'm not feeling as sick today as I've been for the last few.
It was like a light switch flicked on. One minute I was fine and the next minute I was sick. It hit me hard and fast. I was hoping it would go away just as quickly, but it hasn't. I'm kind of a baby when it comes to being sick. I like to take it easy, eat soup and take naps. I know that it may sound like I'm sick all the time by that description, but there is nothing wrong with eating soup and taking naps on a regular basis. And when I'm sick, I complain a lot and take naps and eat soup. When I'm not sick, I'm cheerfully eating soup and napping for pleasure. See the difference?
Never mind.
My dog walk today took me past a house that is growing grapes on their property. A vineyard, if you will. Next to the vineyard, there was a box on a stick with a hole in it. The first thing I thought of was that it was a bat box. For bats. The flying kind.
It really got me thinking. There are bat boxes, owl boxes and bird houses. Don't they all have a box with a hole in it for something to live inside? How do the different animals know that it's for them? Why wouldn't a bird go live in a bat box? Or conversely, why wouldn't a bat go live in a bird house?
Upon further investigation, a bat box seems to be a little bit of different. Amazon sells one that is made to the specifications of the Organization for Bat Conservation. If the OBC has specifications, there must be more to it than a hole in a box. And after looking at the one mentioned and some others online, what I saw today was probably not a bat box at all.
So what about owls? These look a lot like bird houses with bigger holes. This place has some that you can buy and even recommends them for rodent control. I could have used them a while ago! Not that I could put one in my kitchen, but still...
I will stop there, yeah, yeah, bird houses are nothing to write home about. Although, bird feeders are another story. I have tried in the past to make pinecone bird feeders only to end up feeding some other critter. Cover the pinecone with peanut butter, roll them in bird seed and hang them by fishing line down from the back deck so that it hangs in front of your daughter's window and she'll be able to watch the birds from her room. OR find that a raccoon has pulled up the fishing line and run off with the pinecone leaving only peanut butter footprints behind. I'm sure this happens to everyone, right?
It was like a light switch flicked on. One minute I was fine and the next minute I was sick. It hit me hard and fast. I was hoping it would go away just as quickly, but it hasn't. I'm kind of a baby when it comes to being sick. I like to take it easy, eat soup and take naps. I know that it may sound like I'm sick all the time by that description, but there is nothing wrong with eating soup and taking naps on a regular basis. And when I'm sick, I complain a lot and take naps and eat soup. When I'm not sick, I'm cheerfully eating soup and napping for pleasure. See the difference?
Never mind.
My dog walk today took me past a house that is growing grapes on their property. A vineyard, if you will. Next to the vineyard, there was a box on a stick with a hole in it. The first thing I thought of was that it was a bat box. For bats. The flying kind.
It really got me thinking. There are bat boxes, owl boxes and bird houses. Don't they all have a box with a hole in it for something to live inside? How do the different animals know that it's for them? Why wouldn't a bird go live in a bat box? Or conversely, why wouldn't a bat go live in a bird house?
Upon further investigation, a bat box seems to be a little bit of different. Amazon sells one that is made to the specifications of the Organization for Bat Conservation. If the OBC has specifications, there must be more to it than a hole in a box. And after looking at the one mentioned and some others online, what I saw today was probably not a bat box at all.
So what about owls? These look a lot like bird houses with bigger holes. This place has some that you can buy and even recommends them for rodent control. I could have used them a while ago! Not that I could put one in my kitchen, but still...
I will stop there, yeah, yeah, bird houses are nothing to write home about. Although, bird feeders are another story. I have tried in the past to make pinecone bird feeders only to end up feeding some other critter. Cover the pinecone with peanut butter, roll them in bird seed and hang them by fishing line down from the back deck so that it hangs in front of your daughter's window and she'll be able to watch the birds from her room. OR find that a raccoon has pulled up the fishing line and run off with the pinecone leaving only peanut butter footprints behind. I'm sure this happens to everyone, right?
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
My Old Lady Suit
I got up this morning and put on my Old Lady Suit. The one with the achey shoulder, wishing for Granny's rumatiz medicine. The one with the achey knees and the hot flashes. In fact, I got into the car and turned on the air-conditioner full blast only to discover that it must be out. That, my friends, is worth a trip to the dealership for repair!
Of course, it doesn't help that I have the mind-set that once school starts I can wear jeans. It's still too hot for jeans in reality. Though, I'll do anything to avoid shorts most of the time. I could have worn them today, though, since my Old Lady Suit didn't include the knee-high nylons pooled around my ankles. They're probably in the laundry that my lazy butt is behind on, as usual.
I brought my dog out to walk after school drop-off and since there wasn't a spot to park, I drove past the school to the private school down the road. We walked to a trailhead where we saw the sign warning us about rattlesnakes and mountain lions. It's funny how I only think about those dangerous animals when I see a sign and I hike along the same area from different trailheads all the time. I'm sure they don't stick to the posted areas, either.
The hike was straight up and my creaky knees were warning me about the last time I pushed them too hard. I slowed down a bit and kept going. My dog was panting like he'd just seen a cute pack of co-ed's running by, but when we reached the top, he didn't slow down - any further than his slow butt was already going. He walked past and sniffed to and fro while I tried to orient myself to where we were. I thought the trail was going to join a familiar loop and I knew that I should really go ahead and keep going. Unfortunately, (or rather fortunately) I couldn't figure out where we were in relation to what I knew. I felt guilty to turn back around and start walking down. My dog seemed disappointed but not in a way that made it hard to re-direct him.
As we walked down the trail again, I ran into a woman I know from school and we chatted a bit. She commented on the size of my dog and asked if he was friendly. After all of my crazy experiences, I know that my dog has an unpredictable side, but it's predictably so. I told her he was friendly unless another dog talks shit about his mother to him. I left out the part where he hates to be mounted. It should go without saying.
Just as we reached the bottom, we walked around a beautifully groomed grass field at the private school. My dog loves grass, but rarely gets a chance to walk on it. He started mowing it like the part-goat that he is until he came to some shade, in which he laid down. All my guilt for being an old lady today went away. That, and I can feel the burn in my thighs.
It's not that being old is a bad thing. In fact, age is only a marker of time, not an absolute when it comes to behaviors or physical milestones. And all my old age issues aren't even age related. The dark spots on my jawline aren't from age, but sun damage (says my Dermatologist). Either that or my dark brown leather couch is bleeding on me when I take my afternoon naps. And again, naps are not an age thing. Perhaps it's just a Greek thing. Or a Spanish thing. Not that I'm either of those nationalities, but since I've travelled to both of those countries, I'm allowed to nap every afternoon.
And my shoulder isn't rumatiz, but probably from hefting a Laser onto the top of my car. That's when my shoulder pains started. And the knees, that's probably from being overweight. That I blame on my age. Grown ups just can't eat junk food the way kids can and I can't seem to remember that. I enjoy my cupcakes and Donettes. And I enjoy a glass of wine or bottle of beer every now and then. Or is it a bottle of wine and a glass of beer?
I think the smart thing to do today is to take off my Old Lady Suit and get a shower in. Perhaps I'll sprinkle a little youth under my arms and take an anti-inflamatory-forget-the-shoulder-pain pill and get on with my laundry. And maybe do a little dancing.
 |
| Rumatiz got you down? |
I brought my dog out to walk after school drop-off and since there wasn't a spot to park, I drove past the school to the private school down the road. We walked to a trailhead where we saw the sign warning us about rattlesnakes and mountain lions. It's funny how I only think about those dangerous animals when I see a sign and I hike along the same area from different trailheads all the time. I'm sure they don't stick to the posted areas, either.
The hike was straight up and my creaky knees were warning me about the last time I pushed them too hard. I slowed down a bit and kept going. My dog was panting like he'd just seen a cute pack of co-ed's running by, but when we reached the top, he didn't slow down - any further than his slow butt was already going. He walked past and sniffed to and fro while I tried to orient myself to where we were. I thought the trail was going to join a familiar loop and I knew that I should really go ahead and keep going. Unfortunately, (or rather fortunately) I couldn't figure out where we were in relation to what I knew. I felt guilty to turn back around and start walking down. My dog seemed disappointed but not in a way that made it hard to re-direct him.
As we walked down the trail again, I ran into a woman I know from school and we chatted a bit. She commented on the size of my dog and asked if he was friendly. After all of my crazy experiences, I know that my dog has an unpredictable side, but it's predictably so. I told her he was friendly unless another dog talks shit about his mother to him. I left out the part where he hates to be mounted. It should go without saying.
Just as we reached the bottom, we walked around a beautifully groomed grass field at the private school. My dog loves grass, but rarely gets a chance to walk on it. He started mowing it like the part-goat that he is until he came to some shade, in which he laid down. All my guilt for being an old lady today went away. That, and I can feel the burn in my thighs.
It's not that being old is a bad thing. In fact, age is only a marker of time, not an absolute when it comes to behaviors or physical milestones. And all my old age issues aren't even age related. The dark spots on my jawline aren't from age, but sun damage (says my Dermatologist). Either that or my dark brown leather couch is bleeding on me when I take my afternoon naps. And again, naps are not an age thing. Perhaps it's just a Greek thing. Or a Spanish thing. Not that I'm either of those nationalities, but since I've travelled to both of those countries, I'm allowed to nap every afternoon.
And my shoulder isn't rumatiz, but probably from hefting a Laser onto the top of my car. That's when my shoulder pains started. And the knees, that's probably from being overweight. That I blame on my age. Grown ups just can't eat junk food the way kids can and I can't seem to remember that. I enjoy my cupcakes and Donettes. And I enjoy a glass of wine or bottle of beer every now and then. Or is it a bottle of wine and a glass of beer?
I think the smart thing to do today is to take off my Old Lady Suit and get a shower in. Perhaps I'll sprinkle a little youth under my arms and take an anti-inflamatory-forget-the-shoulder-pain pill and get on with my laundry. And maybe do a little dancing.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
The Tree Swing Adventure
So, I was climbing a tree yesterday and almost fell out. I stepped on a section of a branch that was rotted and it gave way. Fortunately, I was expecting the possibility and caught myself before I tumbled.
Sometimes I think that things happen to me strictly for entertainment purposes.
In case you're wondering why I was climbing a tree, I was helping - but not really helping - hang a rope swing in my backyard. Our backyard has a million trees, but they're Bay Laurels. They grow straight up with spindly trunks. They don't have the shape that a good rope swing needs and therefore, we had to do a lot of considering about where to put the swing. My husband settled on one that had a nice thick trunk and curved downward. The trick was getting the rope around it. Safely.
My husband leaned a 7-foot ladder up against it and it still wasn't high enough to get the rope in a good spot. He wanted me to climb to the top rung then throw the rope. I thought about it, but could not bring myself to do it. The tree is on about a 45-degree slope so the ladder had to lean against the tree at an awkward angle. After giving up on that tree, we settled on a different tree that is next to our house. It has a strange shape as it curves to reach for sun in the shadow of our house.
The second tree was easier to climb, but as much as I wanted to be brave, I just wasn't up for the potential to break and arm, leg or neck. As it was, I stepped out onto a weakened branch and just about dropped down about 15-feet. I put my weight on my leg and as the branch gave way, I took my weight off that leg suddenly. As a result, the muscles in my leg are burning today like I did a 300-pound squat with it.
Only me, right? Other 44-year-olds don't hurt themselves climbing trees, do they?
Sometimes I think that things happen to me strictly for entertainment purposes.
In case you're wondering why I was climbing a tree, I was helping - but not really helping - hang a rope swing in my backyard. Our backyard has a million trees, but they're Bay Laurels. They grow straight up with spindly trunks. They don't have the shape that a good rope swing needs and therefore, we had to do a lot of considering about where to put the swing. My husband settled on one that had a nice thick trunk and curved downward. The trick was getting the rope around it. Safely.
My husband leaned a 7-foot ladder up against it and it still wasn't high enough to get the rope in a good spot. He wanted me to climb to the top rung then throw the rope. I thought about it, but could not bring myself to do it. The tree is on about a 45-degree slope so the ladder had to lean against the tree at an awkward angle. After giving up on that tree, we settled on a different tree that is next to our house. It has a strange shape as it curves to reach for sun in the shadow of our house.
The second tree was easier to climb, but as much as I wanted to be brave, I just wasn't up for the potential to break and arm, leg or neck. As it was, I stepped out onto a weakened branch and just about dropped down about 15-feet. I put my weight on my leg and as the branch gave way, I took my weight off that leg suddenly. As a result, the muscles in my leg are burning today like I did a 300-pound squat with it.
Only me, right? Other 44-year-olds don't hurt themselves climbing trees, do they?
Monday, July 23, 2012
If It Ain't Broken...
It's not broken. I really wanted the doctor to email me the x-rays since they're all digital now, but I didn't end up asking. My hand has been hurting a lot more and it turns out to be just a deep bone bruise. There is a lump on my hand and it should take another couple of weeks to heal, but no, it's not broken.
This was one of those times where it's not that I wanted it to be broken, but I didn't want it to not be broken either. I'm going to get a big fat "I told you so" from my husband for making a mountain out of a mo hill - again. Only he's probably not going to say it to me, being too polite and kind for that, but he'll be thinking it.
In the meantime, I've gotten a splint on it to keep me from banging it again (and again) to help it heal. And I'm to elevate it. And ice it. And I've already taken the splint off because I can't type with it. I'll put it on for heavy lifting and stuff. I am right-handed with a right-hand injury and that provides all sorts of challenges to look forward to.
In any case, I probably did today what I should have done when the injury occurred, as most people would, to take care of it from the start. So much for being brave. Who am I kidding, anyway? I'm not brave. On the plus-side, I didn't spend $75 on an emergency co-pay.
Now, what else is there to write about? Spiders?
This was one of those times where it's not that I wanted it to be broken, but I didn't want it to not be broken either. I'm going to get a big fat "I told you so" from my husband for making a mountain out of a mo hill - again. Only he's probably not going to say it to me, being too polite and kind for that, but he'll be thinking it.
In the meantime, I've gotten a splint on it to keep me from banging it again (and again) to help it heal. And I'm to elevate it. And ice it. And I've already taken the splint off because I can't type with it. I'll put it on for heavy lifting and stuff. I am right-handed with a right-hand injury and that provides all sorts of challenges to look forward to.
In any case, I probably did today what I should have done when the injury occurred, as most people would, to take care of it from the start. So much for being brave. Who am I kidding, anyway? I'm not brave. On the plus-side, I didn't spend $75 on an emergency co-pay.
Now, what else is there to write about? Spiders?
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Lazy Sunday
I made an appointment with my doctor for tomorrow. I think my hand my be broken. Remember when I mentioned that I banged my hand really hard and I was trying not to let on how much pain I was in? I have merely bumped that same spot several times and there is as much pain as when it happened. And my hand has a funny bump now. And it hurts more constantly. I realize it's been a while since my initial injury, I'm just concerned that it's not going to heal because I have re-injured it several times already. The pain becomes constant sometimes, too.
My husband always lets a smile cross his face when I mention it - which is not entirely infrequent, either. He is amused by my steady flow of injuries and self-diagnosis. Not that my injuries give him joy, it's just that there are so many of them. Fortunately, my bruises have all faded and that just means I need to go sailing again!
I have the unique luxury of being alone in my house with no one around and no time schedule to check. My kids are having an adventure with my parents and my husband is sailing. I have my barking dog to annoy me, but for some reason my LONG list of projects has completely slipped my mind and I feel like I don't know what to do with my time. This explains why I haven't done anything with it and it's ticking away as I write this.
I think if I get out of the house even just briefly, the call to nap will fade. Or I can do the crazy trick of drinking coffee then napping to get motivated. Or, I could do nothing and not let myself feel guilty for it. The house always needs cleaning. There are always things to be done. There are always projects on my wish list. Doing any of those things does not mean they are done; it only means they are done for now.
My husband always lets a smile cross his face when I mention it - which is not entirely infrequent, either. He is amused by my steady flow of injuries and self-diagnosis. Not that my injuries give him joy, it's just that there are so many of them. Fortunately, my bruises have all faded and that just means I need to go sailing again!
I have the unique luxury of being alone in my house with no one around and no time schedule to check. My kids are having an adventure with my parents and my husband is sailing. I have my barking dog to annoy me, but for some reason my LONG list of projects has completely slipped my mind and I feel like I don't know what to do with my time. This explains why I haven't done anything with it and it's ticking away as I write this.
I think if I get out of the house even just briefly, the call to nap will fade. Or I can do the crazy trick of drinking coffee then napping to get motivated. Or, I could do nothing and not let myself feel guilty for it. The house always needs cleaning. There are always things to be done. There are always projects on my wish list. Doing any of those things does not mean they are done; it only means they are done for now.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Learning to Breathe
Meet the new dentist. Same as the old dentist. I went to visit my favorite dentist again after discovering after my last experience that he had not, in fact, retired. Lucky for me. I got in to see him to fill my last (it's not the last!) filling on the upper left side.
Right away, I told him how I was traumatized by the last guy, and I never even wrote about the horrid experience I has last time, either. Dr. R asked me if I wanted nitrous and I said yes. The helper (what the heck is that job title?) started to question it (I don't remember why) and he said to her, "She said she wanted it." That's what I'm talking about! Give the girl what she wants!
Breathing in my nose and out my mouth was a distracting meditation and given my hearing problems, I didn't pay much attention to much else.
In through my nose.
I couldn't figure out where my mouth was a couple of times and inhaled deeply, only to discover that I had all this air in me that I didn't know what to do with.
Out through my mouth.
Dr. R asked me if I drank a lot of carbonated soda and was telling me about the dangers of that and Altoids and how when he found them in his wife's car he took them and hid them. I asked why.
Dr R: They're just like eating powdered sugar.
Me: I don't eat Altoids, but I eat powdered sugar all the time.
I think I nearly gave him a heart attack. I was joking, of course, except for the powdered Hostess Donettes that I eat whenever I can get my grubby little hands on them. Or at least before my youngest daughter told me I couldn't have them anymore because they'll make me fat. She's made it her mission in life to protect me from the little powered Donettes.
Anytime Dr. R said anything, I opened my mouth wider. I don't know what he said most of the time, but I figured it was to get me to open wider, so I did.
In through my nose.
Dr. R and his helper could have been welding the doors on a new car for all I knew what was happening in my mouth. And again, where was this place where the exhale goes? Holding my breath until I figure out how to exhale because I've forgotten again.
Out through my mouth.
And then it was done. Dr. R asked me how I was doing and I told him great since he didn't make me cry. Seriously. The last dentist made me cry. I was nearly hysterical in his chair with the looming sensation of drowning on my own spit. Why would he put a drooler like me in a chair with my head below my chest? Dr. R knows what he's doing. That's why I like him so much.
In the chair, inhaling and exhaling, I thought that if I had three wishes from a genie or something, I would wish that my dentist was at least 30-years younger. That way, he wouldn't retire any time soon and I'd have a good dentist for a long time ahead. Better than that, though, I'd wish that I had flossed my teeth daily like I'm doing now, but that I'd have been doing it all along to avoid the ravages of decay.
Dr. R assures me that when I'm in my 80s that my sensitivity will decline. Something to look forward to. That, and the numbness to go away. The water I'm drinking keeps spilling on me.
Right away, I told him how I was traumatized by the last guy, and I never even wrote about the horrid experience I has last time, either. Dr. R asked me if I wanted nitrous and I said yes. The helper (what the heck is that job title?) started to question it (I don't remember why) and he said to her, "She said she wanted it." That's what I'm talking about! Give the girl what she wants!
Breathing in my nose and out my mouth was a distracting meditation and given my hearing problems, I didn't pay much attention to much else.
In through my nose.
I couldn't figure out where my mouth was a couple of times and inhaled deeply, only to discover that I had all this air in me that I didn't know what to do with.
Out through my mouth.
Dr. R asked me if I drank a lot of carbonated soda and was telling me about the dangers of that and Altoids and how when he found them in his wife's car he took them and hid them. I asked why.
Dr R: They're just like eating powdered sugar.
Me: I don't eat Altoids, but I eat powdered sugar all the time.
I think I nearly gave him a heart attack. I was joking, of course, except for the powdered Hostess Donettes that I eat whenever I can get my grubby little hands on them. Or at least before my youngest daughter told me I couldn't have them anymore because they'll make me fat. She's made it her mission in life to protect me from the little powered Donettes.
Anytime Dr. R said anything, I opened my mouth wider. I don't know what he said most of the time, but I figured it was to get me to open wider, so I did.
In through my nose.
Dr. R and his helper could have been welding the doors on a new car for all I knew what was happening in my mouth. And again, where was this place where the exhale goes? Holding my breath until I figure out how to exhale because I've forgotten again.
Out through my mouth.
And then it was done. Dr. R asked me how I was doing and I told him great since he didn't make me cry. Seriously. The last dentist made me cry. I was nearly hysterical in his chair with the looming sensation of drowning on my own spit. Why would he put a drooler like me in a chair with my head below my chest? Dr. R knows what he's doing. That's why I like him so much.
In the chair, inhaling and exhaling, I thought that if I had three wishes from a genie or something, I would wish that my dentist was at least 30-years younger. That way, he wouldn't retire any time soon and I'd have a good dentist for a long time ahead. Better than that, though, I'd wish that I had flossed my teeth daily like I'm doing now, but that I'd have been doing it all along to avoid the ravages of decay.
Dr. R assures me that when I'm in my 80s that my sensitivity will decline. Something to look forward to. That, and the numbness to go away. The water I'm drinking keeps spilling on me.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Getting Sprayed
In my Army days, we pulled a lot of pranks. Our platoon would sit in a computer bay and go nearly insane at the sound of the dits and dahs of Morse Code for hours upon hours during whatever shift we were on in our windowless rooms. Those conditions were prime for playing tricks on each other. So we did.
Some of the pranks stood out for their uniqueness, such as wrapping a sleeping soldier up in Christmas lights and plugging them in without his waking up. That one is my personal favorite. But some stood out for their predictability. It was certain that someone - even if they didn't think they would - would get engrossed in their job while someone would crawl up behind them and tape paper spurs onto the back of their boots. When they finally got up to walk around, the whole bay would start singing, "Jingle Jangle Jingle," in unison, how could anyone not feel the joy?
Tags, or taping a note on someone's back (like "kick me"), were so ubiquitous that I - and I'm sure many others - developed a habit of swiping their back whenever they left a room or stood near others. Getting pranked enough made you develop defenses, and even if no one was immune to the joke, you could keep yourself out of trouble for a while.
An essential part of getting pranked and pulling pranks is the ability to laugh at yourself. If you take yourself too seriously, the pranksters will just keep trying to make you cry. You become an easy and ready target. It helps to develop a thick skin.
So, if I'm so used to getting pranked, why has my family been able to get me with the old rubber band around the sink sprayer so many times? I don't even think I'm the target, but if someone puts a rubber band on, I WILL get sprayed. Tonight I got sprayed and decided to leave it on for the next person. And guess what! I forgot and got sprayed again! What the hell?
It's funny, no doubt about it, but I hadn't planned on changing my shirt twice tonight and I can't even guarantee that I won't do it again. I use that sink all the time!
Which totally reminds me about pranking myself a couple years ago on Halloween. I filled up a pair of pants and a shirt that belonged to my husband, put shoes at the bottom and something red at the neck to look like a severed head. The whole thing was standing next to the front door to scare people. I put it there. I knew it was there and I scared myself over and over again because I saw a "man" out of the corner of my eye every time I left the house.
When the heck will I learn?
Some of the pranks stood out for their uniqueness, such as wrapping a sleeping soldier up in Christmas lights and plugging them in without his waking up. That one is my personal favorite. But some stood out for their predictability. It was certain that someone - even if they didn't think they would - would get engrossed in their job while someone would crawl up behind them and tape paper spurs onto the back of their boots. When they finally got up to walk around, the whole bay would start singing, "Jingle Jangle Jingle," in unison, how could anyone not feel the joy?
Tags, or taping a note on someone's back (like "kick me"), were so ubiquitous that I - and I'm sure many others - developed a habit of swiping their back whenever they left a room or stood near others. Getting pranked enough made you develop defenses, and even if no one was immune to the joke, you could keep yourself out of trouble for a while.
An essential part of getting pranked and pulling pranks is the ability to laugh at yourself. If you take yourself too seriously, the pranksters will just keep trying to make you cry. You become an easy and ready target. It helps to develop a thick skin.
So, if I'm so used to getting pranked, why has my family been able to get me with the old rubber band around the sink sprayer so many times? I don't even think I'm the target, but if someone puts a rubber band on, I WILL get sprayed. Tonight I got sprayed and decided to leave it on for the next person. And guess what! I forgot and got sprayed again! What the hell?
It's funny, no doubt about it, but I hadn't planned on changing my shirt twice tonight and I can't even guarantee that I won't do it again. I use that sink all the time!
Which totally reminds me about pranking myself a couple years ago on Halloween. I filled up a pair of pants and a shirt that belonged to my husband, put shoes at the bottom and something red at the neck to look like a severed head. The whole thing was standing next to the front door to scare people. I put it there. I knew it was there and I scared myself over and over again because I saw a "man" out of the corner of my eye every time I left the house.
When the heck will I learn?
Friday, July 13, 2012
Easy Wednesday Night Race
My latest sailing adventure was on an Etchells for the Wednesday night beer can races this week. It was an easy little race in relatively light air out to Southampton Shoal and back. My oldest daughter drove the last time we did this, but I was at the helm this time.
I really like driving the Etchells. I get the feel for the wind and with a few exceptions where I'm over-powered, I'm comfortable with this position. Ever since my near-collission, which I still haven't written about, I have been doubting my abilities, and had to ask which way to turn the tiller during a tack or jibe. I shouldn't have to do that but I am afraid of making a mistake. It's like I need to confirm my knowledge as I'm thinking it.
My husband and I had our two girls onboard with us. My oldest was sitting in the bowman's position and we kept having to tell her to hold onto something. She was too complacent with the light wind for my comfort. My youngest was sitting in the cuddy the whole time. It was convenient to have her hold the beverage my husband and I shared during tack maneuvers, but I really wanted her to come out to watch the waves and enjoy the sail. For her, though, it was just something to get through. (And so you don't need to ask, the entire family wears life jackets when we go out.)
The best part was that it was a nice easy sail with the whole family. It wasn't blowing too hard and I don't think I got a single bruise from the adventure. I needed that more than I care to admit, since my body is still riddled with bruises, including a new one from a fall on my mountain bike. (I merely tipped over the wrong way and didn't get my foot out of the cleat in time. No big deal.) Another best part of the trip was that we saw a cool spotted seal while we were sailing back into the harbor. I LOVE seeing seals! And I just read that they are actually dog mermaids. Now I love them even more.
The worst part of the race was putting the boat away. Since it is dry-docked, that means hauling it out of the water, cleaning it off, putting the trailer away and putting the cover on it. The cover part feels like it takes an hour. The other worst part was that my daughter was sitting underneath and not enjoying it. What I would do to have her enjoy sailing more than she does!
And even though we were late at the start, we still beat three boats in. The Etchells is great like that.
I really like driving the Etchells. I get the feel for the wind and with a few exceptions where I'm over-powered, I'm comfortable with this position. Ever since my near-collission, which I still haven't written about, I have been doubting my abilities, and had to ask which way to turn the tiller during a tack or jibe. I shouldn't have to do that but I am afraid of making a mistake. It's like I need to confirm my knowledge as I'm thinking it.
 |
| Bow of the Etchells as snapped by my daughter. |
My husband and I had our two girls onboard with us. My oldest was sitting in the bowman's position and we kept having to tell her to hold onto something. She was too complacent with the light wind for my comfort. My youngest was sitting in the cuddy the whole time. It was convenient to have her hold the beverage my husband and I shared during tack maneuvers, but I really wanted her to come out to watch the waves and enjoy the sail. For her, though, it was just something to get through. (And so you don't need to ask, the entire family wears life jackets when we go out.)
The best part was that it was a nice easy sail with the whole family. It wasn't blowing too hard and I don't think I got a single bruise from the adventure. I needed that more than I care to admit, since my body is still riddled with bruises, including a new one from a fall on my mountain bike. (I merely tipped over the wrong way and didn't get my foot out of the cleat in time. No big deal.) Another best part of the trip was that we saw a cool spotted seal while we were sailing back into the harbor. I LOVE seeing seals! And I just read that they are actually dog mermaids. Now I love them even more.
The worst part of the race was putting the boat away. Since it is dry-docked, that means hauling it out of the water, cleaning it off, putting the trailer away and putting the cover on it. The cover part feels like it takes an hour. The other worst part was that my daughter was sitting underneath and not enjoying it. What I would do to have her enjoy sailing more than she does!
And even though we were late at the start, we still beat three boats in. The Etchells is great like that.
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