November 2011 : Page 2 of 3 : Fluid Pudding

Sunday Bloody Sunday is played at a tempo of 103 beats per minute.

You guys, I was just getting ready for bed (at 8:55 because I’m cool like that) when I remembered NaBloPoMo. Is this month almost over?

I’ve spent a lot of time in my car (driving to the store and back home and to the pharmacy and back home and to the bookstore and back home) this weekend. I’m pleased to report that listening to Keith Olbermann reading James Thurber is just about the greatest thing I’ve ever listened to while running errands. Driving and laughing.

This evening for dinner I had lentil soup with garlic breadsticks. Afterwards, I snacked on the pumpkin pie that my parents delivered yesterday afternoon. They also delivered a steam cleaner and a Christmas ornament that counts down the hours and minutes until Christmas.

The girls are in bed, and I’m getting ready to do the same. BUT, please know that sometime after midnight I’ll be receiving the food issue of The New Yorker on my Nook, and within that issue is an eight page article on SweeTango apples. I may not be able to sleep tonight. (I love pre-ordering things for the Nook and then watching them magically appear. ‘Tis a gift to be simple.)

I still haven’t decided what to contribute for the Thanksgiving meal.

Good News: We haven’t seen any lice in 22 hours. The End. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Oh! The Google!

Lady at Pharmacy: You’re back again?

Me: I’m back again.

Lady at Pharmacy: You’ve still got the lice?

Me: I don’t have the lice. BUT, both of my kids do. It’s SO much better than it was two nights ago, but we’re still not completely done with it. We’re close.

Lady Behind Me: Oh! YOU’VE GOT LICE?!

Me: I DO NOT HAVE LICE! My kids are getting over it.

Lady Behind Me: I bet you have DOGS!

Me: I do.

Lady Behind Me: Well, THAT’S where you got it!

Me: No. I learned yesterday that dogs and people don’t share lice. Lice is species-specific. My dogs are protected. I wish my kids could take Trifexis. Please add these Pretzel M&M’s to my stack.

Lady Behind Me: My kid had lice FOREVER. I’ll tell you what you need to do. You need to Google it.

Me: I’m sorry?

Lady Behind Me: Yes. Get on your computer and go to Google Dot Com. Then search for stuff that gets rid of lice.

Me: I’ll do that.

We’ve now done two applications of RID on Meredith, the whole family did an overnight mayonnaise treatment (Puddings believe in solidarity!), both kids have dealt with Cetaphil treatments, we’ve used the blow dryer daily, we used the flat iron this morning, and as I type this update, both kids have LiceFreee! on their heads. (It’s already one hour past bedtime, and we can’t rinse this stuff out for another half hour. And then we have to comb out the nits. Nits. NITS. Oh Dear Lord Help Me Right Now Please.)

Our washer and dryer have been running around the clock.

Jeff steam-cleaned the rugs today as I cried and cranked out some freelance work.

Promise: This will be my final lice entry. I’m sick of talking about it. You’re sick of hearing about it. I might give you a little “Hey! We beat the bugs!” blip when that actually happens, but for now? Let’s change the subject. ALSO, please know that I will NOT send my kids to school if they have even ONE nit in their hair on Monday morning. AND, we’ll be shampooing with preventative shampoo at least once each week forever and ever amen, Randy Travis.

Hrm. I wonder what we’ll talk about tomorrow. Hey! Maybe we need to Google it!

(I know she was trying to help. AND, she was very nice about it. It’s just that I’m three inches away from throwing my fist through a wall (I’ve never done that before!) and the last thing I need is for a stranger to blame this whole thing on Scout and Henry. Because look at them.)

(Jeff thinks Scout looks a bit like Dave Navarro.)

((I’m gonna kick tomorrow.)) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Lachrymosity

You might not know this, but: A lot of things make me cry.

Example: I love singing in the car to this song. BUT, when I get to the 2:48 mark? I lose it. AND, when the cat sings, “I know you’re strong”? I nearly have to pull over. (Confession: I just dragged the arrow to figure out where the “I know you’re strong” line is, and as soon as I heard it, my eyes welled up. I haven’t even listened to the rest of the song! I’ve become squishy.)

Another One: The Caterpillar Song. It starts off silly, and it ends with me burying my head in my hands and running my car into a tree. I know. (“I can’t crawl but I can fly. Wanna come for a ride?” That part destroys me. I can’t sing “Climb on.” I can’t even think about “Climb on.”)

Last night I learned that lice makes me cry. Hard. Really hard. AND, the combination of lice (chemical-RESISTANT lice, by the way) coupled with fresh dog poop in the hall? I start off like this, and I end up like this. (I was going to make a reference to Glenn Close crying in the shower during The Big Chill, but she had her clothes off during that scene (it hits at 1:57 if you’re curious), and at no point last night did I cry naked.)

I *did* cry again this morning when I came across an unwrapped Milky Way as I was throwing away a bunch of stuff in the girls’ room. I plopped down on the mattress that still reeks of Anti-Lice Spray, and I sobbed and sobbed as chocolate, caramel, and nougat dripped down my chin.

It’s going to be a long and smelly weekend. (Tonight we’re all going to bed with mayonnaise in our hair and shower caps on our heads. And I’ve been trying so hard to go vegan. Why is my lip starting to quiver?!) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

I don’t drink whiskey. Please send whiskey.

So, today’s NaBloPoMo entry is going to be a short one.

It seems that Meredith has lice. LICE. LICE!!!

I have been to Walgreens, where I purchased $38,495 worth of lice-killing products.

I am flipping out a bit. (More than a bit.)

Why am I suddenly itching?! WHY?!?!?!

(Blue Sky: This will be The Thing That Makes Me Clean My House.) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Nothing that a few more antibiotics can’t kill!

It seems that I’m spending my day
In a waiting room with Rachel Ray.
My gyno is late,
I’m hating this wait.
Rachel’s turkey? Bedecked on a tray!

The ride to the office was sweet.
Through a drive-thru for caffeine and heat!
Skinny caramel latte,
It’s good for my bottay!
I fear I shall soon wet my seat.

The woman who sits next to me
Has no clue that it burns when I pee!
I know why SHE’S here—
BABY belly! Not beer!
On OB day I’m a mystery! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Singing pork! Dancing veal! What an entertaining meal!

Do you remember a few days back when I was lamenting about how a typical family of four cannot afford to see a show (specifically, Beauty and the Beast) at the Fox Theatre? Jasmin left a comment encouraging me to call the box office and ask if they sell rush tickets. I did, and yes! They do! BUT, they can’t guarantee that there will be any tickets left for Beauty and the Beast. BUT, the (very kind) woman I spoke with told me that I could go to the box office (thereby eliminating the ticket service charge) and say that I get The Pasta House Discount, which will take $10 off the price of each ticket. (In other words, the total price for four tickets will be about $80 cheaper if purchased at the box office instead of from the internet.) Victory!

Jeff was home sick today. (Flying from St. Louis to California to St. Louis to North Carolina and back to St. Louis in a span of 72 hours will do that to you.) I took advantage of his presence by making him ride to the Fox Theatre with me. (Driving into the city tends to make me nervous unless someone is in the passenger seat telling me what to do.) We went to the box office, where we quickly learned that the matinee shows didn’t have any decent seats left. Although I swore I wouldn’t do an evening show (because my kids tend to be in bed at 8:00 each night, and the evening Fox shows don’t start until 7:30), we decided that in order to get seats that Meredith could enjoy, an evening show was our only choice. When we selected our seats, I cleared my throat and said something to the effect of “Psst! Pasta House Discount! Whitey Herzog!”

Box Office Lady: That discount isn’t valid for these seats.

Me: Oh. Um. Oh. Are there any other discounts or coupons?

Box Office Lady: There is a Schnucks discount!

Me: Psst! Schnucks Discount! REO Speedwagon!

Box Office Lady: That discount isn’t valid for these seats, either.

Oh, internet. I did what I didn’t think I could do. I banged my fist on the table, smiled the smile of an insecure high school cheerleader, and sang, “I’ll take the tickets ANYWAY! HERE IS MY CHARGE CARD! RUN IT QUICKLY BEFORE I CHANGE MY MIND!!!”

We haven’t yet told the girls. I sort of want to get them dressed up, take them out for a nice dinner, and then spring the show on them.

This is going to be good. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Come and join the dream that never ends.

On Friday, I sent Meredith to a birthday party wearing only a shirt and tights. (I didn’t realize her legwear wasn’t leggings until she sat down for dinner and I noticed that her “leggings” had a really strong seam up the back side, and that I could see her skin through them.) Party like a rock star, Meredith. Someday I’ll help pay for your therapy.

Speaking of which, I started physical therapy this morning. My current goal is to do a five minute walk with zero swelling. After that? A ten minute walk. When I work up to a thirty minute walk, I’m good to start running a bit. (This could take months.) In the meantime? Exercises! Some of which involve big yellow rubberbands and writing the alphabet in the air with my feet!

In other words, it’s time to stick a Ding Dong on a martini glass and roll around in some 1994.

‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Whatever differences our lives have been, we together make a limb.

As you know, I started running on September 7th. I used a Couch to 5K program, and as much as I hated it, I also sort of loved it. (Honesty: I loved when the little voice in my iPod told me that the workout was over. That felt good.)

On Monday, September 19th, also known as Week Three, Day One, I took a tiny stumble. It was just a blip. No pain. I kept on running. Later that night I found that my ankle was all swollen and sore.

Tomorrow marks the eight week anniversary of that stumble, and believe it or not: My ankle STILL feels too weak to run. It still swells up at night. It still wakes me up when I roll over onto my left side.

Funny, but not really so funny: Heather Armstrong started running in August. She messed up her ankle in October. She ran a marathon a few weeks back. Also, we have the same running shoes, although I haven’t yet worn mine to run. (I ordered them a a few weeks after the ankle thing happened.)

All of this to say, Heather is a stud, and I’m starting physical therapy tomorrow morning at 9:00. My goal is to be running again before the start of the new year.

One more thing. Although I wanted to order this, I ordered this instead. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

These are the nights of which Elton John sings…

Yesterday at this time, Jeff was in California. He’s now in North Carolina.

(He was in St. Louis from midnight until seven in the morning—just long enough to let the dogs out for their middle of the night thing and hang out with Meredith and I as she dealt with one of her stomach aches on top of her current runny nose/cough thing.)

The girls and I have been trifling for most of the day. We bought more special food for Henry. We picked up a fresh pizza from Papa Murphy’s. I put in three and a half hours toward my freelance job. The girls played the piano and read books and watched a bit of Harry Potter Weekend on ABC Family. I need to do some laundry. (I always need to do some laundry.)

My church book club meets tomorrow, and I suppose I should just refer to it as my book club, because it seems that my other book club has disbanded. We’ll be discussing The Elegance of the Hedgehog—a book I read with my disbanded book club over a year ago. I finished The Marriage Plot at three o’clock in the morning, and I loved it right up until the final page. (I sometimes wonder if there’s a page count issue when novels don’t end as strongly as they began.) Tonight I’ll be starting The Psychopath Test as well as a pair of fingerless mitts for Meredith’s teacher. Christmas is coming.

Hey! Tomorrow I’m going to talk about running! (I know!)

Twenty years ago at this time I was most likely applying eye liner and curling my hair.

(Shout out to Carroll, who is currently brushing her teeth.) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Maniacal Barking and Petty Complaints

The thing about the dogs is that although they’re ready for bed at 10:00 (and so am I), they tend to want to take a break from their crates sometime between 2:00 and 4:00 in the morning to go outside and do their business. More often than not, they will then return to their crates and sleep until it’s time for the rest of us to get up.

If I get up for their middle of the night bathroom break, I cannot get back to sleep. Jeff has slightly better luck with this.

Here is the current problem: Jeff is out of town.

Last night the dogs and I went to bed at 10:00. At 4:32, they asked if I would take them outside for a quick breath of fresh air. I obliged.

The minute Henry stepped into the back yard, he went batty and started barking like a 25 pound puppy with a man dog voice. Because that’s what he is. I’m horrified at the thought of the dogs waking the neighbors, so I did what anyone in my position would do. I stepped outside and began “scream whispering.”

Me (in pajamas, which is really just a t-shirt and sweats): HENry. HENry. Bananas! Bananas! Puppy treats! Stop! Stop! HENry!

The barking continued. I ran back into the house, grabbed a bag of puppy bones (the treats he isn’t allowed to have because of the food trial), ran BACK out to the yard, and frantically started shaking my bag of bones (literally and figuratively) as I danced around trying to avoid the fresh piles of dog crap.

It seemed like we were outside for at least twenty minutes. When the dogs came in and went back to their crates, I looked at the clock. 4:38.

I’ve been up since 4:38. I’m now within 15 pages of finishing The Marriage Plot, and I’m hesitating to finish it because I don’t want it to end. I have a definite picture in my mind of each of the characters, and I actually CARE about at least two of them, which doesn’t happen very often for me.

Question: How on earth does a family of four afford to see Beauty and the Beast at the Fox Theater? It occurred to me a few months back that my kids would love going to the Fox. When I saw that Beauty and the Beast would be there around Christmas, it seemed like the obvious time to go. Sure, I could go for the $25 tickets that actually cost $29, meaning I would pay roughly $120 for us to go. BUT, Meredith wouldn’t be able to see very well from those seats. For Meredith to actually see what was happening, we would probably need to go with the $52 or $66 seats, which actually cost $60 and $76. (It’s cute how the service charge goes up along with the ticket prices.) During the holiday season (or any other season, if I’m totally honest with you), I don’t have $240 or $304 to spend on an afternoon at the theater. AND, I know that I could go with a local community theater and get the same show for something like 1/10th of the cost, but I want my kids to see a show at The Fox. (Some people want their kids to have at least one hot meal every day. Please know that I know how ridiculous I’m being right now.)

I just ate a pint of blackberries. My second huge cup of coffee is in the microwave. I’m going to take some time today to think about everyone I know who falls into the category of Veteran. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>