There are times when you see something, and you simply have to.
Which is how I felt when I saw a friend of my husband’s wearing this shirt on a FB post.
I knew I had to purchase one for my other half.
I think it’s perfect.
Category Archives: Uncategorized
Just…. no.
Have you noticed how everyone is posting their favorite recipes online lately?
Quarantine fever is driving everyone into the kitchen and they just can’t wait to share.
Every time I look I’m inundated with pleas of, “Try this, you’ll love it!” or “Our family’s favorite. You won’t be disappointed!”
In truth, I rarely love it…. and am more often than not disappointed.
Friends are always extolling the virtues of kale, tumeric, tofu and other completely unappealing things…
And after the recipe I saw yesterday?
I realize I simply need new friends.
Yeah.
I’m pretty sure parsnip spice cake won’t be happening in our kitchen any time soon.
Proof positive correct spelling is important.
In these stress and virus filled days, we need to be able to trust the information being disseminated by the authorities and local media.
Sometimes they get it right.
Sometimes they don’t.
Of course incorrect spelling does make wonderful blog fodder.
Not to mention creative ways to use those extra bananas on your kitchen counter.
Who needs banana bread when you can do this?
Because I’m special.
And still have to be quiet all day while the husband is working from home.
As I said yesterday I’m ridiculously healthy …. despite having a toxic affinity for Cheetos and an exercise routine that wouldn’t make a sloth break a sweat.
So in 2014 when I was diagnosed with benign fibroid tumors, I elected not to break my 50 year surgery free streak and opted for a uterine artery embolization over a full abdominal hysterectomy. It’s an out patient procedure that takes about 30 minutes.
Of course… as we’ve established, I’m special.
I beg to differ Ryan Gosling, please read on.
That 30 minute procedure? Took over 3 hours for my special little self. I was fully awake when they injected the microscopic particles into my arteries to block the blood supply to the tumors and wasn’t supposed to feel a thing. While that may be true for the normal 30 minutes procedure? 2 hours in, I was feeling it so strongly they had to strap me down to keep me from squirming and make me chew dry OxyContin while flat on my back.
Well, I did…. and it was just as awful as it sounds. Not to mention completely useless for the pain. Since I’d never needed or taken serious pain killers before? The doctors thought small doses would suffice.
They were wrong…. so very, very wrong.
By the time I got back to the recovery room, where my tumors were literally dying from the lack of blood flow feeding them? I was in tears, as well as agony.
For 4 hours after this procedure you have to lie flat on your back and stay perfectly still. No movement at all… so the collagen plug they insert at the injection site in your groin can fully absorb and stop you from springing a leak.
During those 4 hours they gave me morphine. Then double morphine. Then Fentanyl. Then double Fentanyl. Nothing touched the pain, it was excruciating…. as if someone was twisting a red hot knife in my abdomen. The doctors couldn’t understand why the drugs weren’t working as they had given me the highest legal allowable dose.
“We’ve never had anyone who couldn’t feel the effects.” they kept telling me.
But I could have told them why….
It’s because I’m special.
And by special, I mean narcotic resistant. Of course it would have been nice to know this before my abdomen felt like a Samurai warrior with a nervous twitch was commiting Seppuku, but what can I say….
I must be Norwegian.
The only thing those drugs did was make me nauseated, which is no fun when you have to lie flat on your back and perfectly still.
And if that wasn’t bad enough? Four perfectly wretched hours later, a nurse came in to raise the top half of my bed to a sitting position to let me have something to drink. She no sooner turned around and left the room when I felt a twinge. And then something wet. By the time I pulled back the sheet… the bed was covered in blood and I was passing out.
Why?
Because I’m special….
And had popped the unpoppable collagen plug.
Alarms rang, lights flashed and 4 nurses ran in calling for help. Everything was going black as I bled out, but I remember them raising my legs, lowering my head and 6 people pushing down on my injection site with all their combined weight.
When they finally stopped the bleeding?
Another 4 hours of flat immobility with doctors stopping by to check on me and mumbling to each other on their way out, “We’ve never had anyone pop a collagen plug before.”
See?
Special.
Long story short… I spent a solid week in horrible pain and 6 months later learned it was all for nothing. I had to have a full abdominal hysterectomy anyway.
With no morphine or Fentanyl because the damn stuff doesn’t work on me.
Lots was an understatement.
What else went wrong? Well, the electricity in my room went out and they gave me this.
That’s a high tech nurse signaling device in case you were wondering.
They only give it to special people.
The definition of my kind of special?
Having them cut you open side to side and recuperating with nothing but Tylenol.
Yes.
Yes I am.
And that’s the kind of special I could do without.
I really can’t help myself.
I can’t explain why these tickle me as much as they do.
But re-created art is now officially my favorite new thing.
I think we can all relate to frig raiding during the lock down.
Is it me, or are Dali paintings always the best?
Perfect!
Health or bust.
In the midst of a viral apocalypse, it’s hard not to think about your health.
Am I safe? Will I be infected?
And if so, should I be binge watching Netflix… or picking out a granite color and font?
Thankfully I’m a very healthy person. One might say boringly so.
I’ve never broken a bone.
I’ve never had the flu, an ear infection, strep throat, the measles, pink eye or a cavity.
I still have my tonsils, appendix and wisdom teeth.
Until I was 48 years old, I’d never had the chicken pox either.
And trust me…. when I caught them from the husband because he came down with shingles?
I was not a happy camper.
No, those aren’t pimples….
And if you think it sucked having chicken pox as a kid? Try doing it when you’re almost 50. It’s not only Hella uncomfortable…. but dangerous to boot.
Matter of fact, it was such an oddity to present at that age, all the doctors and nurses stopped by the exam room to take a peek.
You know all those times in your life when it was nice to feel special?
That wasn’t one of them.
But aside from that week of polka dotted misery, I’ve been blissfully healthy.
Heck, I’d never even been in the hospital until a few years ago…. and naturally, everything that could go wrong?
Did.
Quite spectacularly.
Because if you’re going to screw something up?
My motto is don’t do it halfway.
Pandemic humor… laugh while you can.
Because we all need a chuckle.
Well done kitty.
Now step up your game and fetch us some toilet paper.
Does anyone think about all the poor out of work hookers?
No.
But I’m sure they’re feeling the pinch as well… although probably not in the places they’re used to.
Sad, but true.
Also sad, but true.
I read a cockroach can survive for 6 months without it’s brain. Hell, Keith’s got that record beat already.
Other places?
Ay caramba!
Even I’ll say amen to that.
I love my town … part, whatever.
Our town’s FB page has been filled with blog fodder lately.
Here are a few of the best…
Name That Scat?
You can’t get quality posts like this in the city.
No sir.
Damn, I wonder if that drone crackpot who wrapped himself in tinfoil lives close by?
No anal probes needed here.
This is utterly fabulous.
No joke.
Good thing the husband didn’t see this.
Free is a four letter word as far as I’m concerned.
Christ…
I hope not.
Our townspeople are so helpful.
Because you can never be too prepared for Zombies.
Toilet paper…
What’s that?
The Easter Bunny was spotted last month, although I’m not sure why he needed a cannon.
Thankfully this person lives on the other side of town because while tire planters are never a good idea….
Hot pink tire planters would strain even Mr. Rogers’ love for his neighbors.
This is what it’s come to.
During the plague and it’s subsequent lock down, women haven’t had many reasons to dress up.
No dinner out, no theater, no cocktail parties. Most of the time we’re schlepping around the house in our favorite yoga pants and a ratty tee shirt.
Trips to the grocery store are now big occasions. Outfits must be coordinated and accessorized accordingly.
So tell me, how’d I do?
Grey sweater, pink and grey floral mask.
I’m ashamed to admit I now have at least a dozen masks in assorted patterns and colors.
Pathetic, but what’s a girl to do? It’s the new fashion staple.
Nothing too exciting on the grocery store trip this time around…. there’s still no toilet paper.
Or flour, or soup.
But now we can add pasta to the list of hoarded items.
The only kind I could find?
Turmeric spaghetti.
To which I say not just no….
But Hell no.
With apologies to my male readers….
Have you heard of Goop?
Until recently the only one I knew about was this:
And honestly?
I wish to Hell it had stayed that way.
But no… a friend of mine had to start waxing poetic about the company Gwyneth Paltrow started. Not caring much about self help websites or Gwyneth Paltrow, I was politely zoning out…. until she mentioned something she thought I just had to buy.
Yes.
It’s for real. Though why in the world she thought I needed one I have no clue.
If can someone tell me why geranium, bergamot, cedar and rose smell like a vagina…. I’ll be forever in your debt.
And if that wasn’t ridiculous enough?
There’s this:
Now I like jade as much as the next girl, but…. no.
No, I don’t like jade that much.
I admit the instructions made me snort…
But I seriously doubt I’ll be searching for a sacred space to store one anytime soon.
River's world..... 