Daily Archives : Page 89 of 110 : Fluid Pudding

These are the Facts

Please know that this is all about girl innards and headaches. If you’re not interested, may I suggest you go over here instead? Really.

1. On Sunday, September 26th, I was hit with a migraine, so I did what I always do—I took a Maxalt. This normally kills it within a few hours, but for some reason, on September 26, the Maxalt didn’t even begin to touch the migraine.

2. On Monday, September 27th, I began to cycle, which has absolutely nothing to do with putting on shiny shorts and a helmet. Interestingly enough (it’s really not interesting at all), that was my first cycle since being taken off my BCP nearly a month ago. (I’ve been on the pill for nearly 20 years, and we have breast cancer in the family which puts a capital R on my risky. My doctor and I have been throwing around other options for several months now, and I’ve balked at every one. In September, she played hard ball (as she should have) by not renewing my prescription.)

3. On Tuesday, September 28th, I took another Maxalt. No relief. Terrible headache.

4. By Wednesday, October 6th, I had taken three Maxalt and two of my other migraine pills. (Not all at once, Silly. Spread out over eleven days!) Still paining. SO, I went to see the nurse practitioner at the headache center. She gave me a Toradol shot, which basically made me feel really high and nasty. It did nothing for the headache. She also told me to take anti-seizure drugs that have not been approved by the FDA for migraine prevention, but supposedly work for migraine prevention. (I didn’t take them. I’m weird about just throwing crap at my head—especially if that crap comes with a long list of side effects.)

NOTE: I’ve had the migraines where I end up in bed crying with blankets pulled over my head. This (Thank God) is not one of those. It’s just a constant pain that radiates from my shoulders up to my right eye and sometimes my left eye (sometimes both) and it affects my concentration, and it makes my stomach feel nasty and I feel all hazy and yeesh.

5. On Thursday, October 7th, I attended the most heart-wrenching event I’ve attended in many years. Out of respect for everyone involved, I won’t go into any details. BUT, I will say this: on the drive home my headache was so unbearable that I actually called my gynocologist and BEGGED her to put me back on the pill so that I could get some relief. She didn’t want to do it, but she did it.

6. Monday. October 11th. Now back on the pill for five days. Still no relief.

7. On Tuesday, October 12th, I spoke on the phone with my migraine doctor. She promised that we would get rid of this thing. She told me to go off of the BCP. No more BCP. EVER. She prescribed a steroid that should take care of this headache. She told me to start taking the anti-seizure drug (Zonisamide) that the nurse practitioner had given me the week before.

8. Sunday. October 17th. The headache is now 21 days old, I’ve taken 21 steroids, and am now on anti-seizure drugs. The inside of my head feels hot, my entire body feels tingly (in a not so good way), and I’m feeling like I’m not very sharp (I’m making silly mistakes, forgetting things, etc.). I’m able to keep appointments (mostly), I’m still able to get work done, but I’m just not Me. (I didn’t make it to church this morning because the thought of up and down and sing and up and down and smile and so forth did me in. I was all dressed and ready to go, but then I simply Could Not Do It.)

So, Gggggrrrrrrrrr. I’m now The Girl With the Neverending Headache. (Call Limahl. I’ve got a remake idea for him.) And she’s not interesting or funny. She just sort of sits around in a robe eating apples and looking like your sick old Aunt Marie. Plan for tomorrow: Call the Headache Clinic again. (They’re really very good. I’m actually knitting a pair of Nemesis socks for my doctor, because when/if this headache is conquered, she deserves a prize.)

I offer my apologies to you. Fluid Pudding is not normally a place for such melancholic melon complaints. I’ll probably privatize this number in the next day or so. (Mainly because I’m scheduled to be happy on here tomorrow morning.) Tell me a joke. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Don’t mind us. We’re just perpetuating the stereotype…

On Saturday morning, we bundled up with coffee and doughnuts, sat lawn chairs on the side of the road, and enjoyed the high school’s homecoming parade.

The girls were very excited to see Pete the Pirate. (Actually, they were excited to see that Pete was throwing Tootsie Rolls. The hurling of the candy is their favorite part of the parade.)

I was surprised to see how many people showed up to represent the class who graduated from the high school during the year that I was born. (Note to my fellow WHS 1988 graduates: Don’t count on me riding a “float” and/or wearing owl headgear in 2028.)

As an editor, I’m always excited to find spelling errors during parades.

This one was due to adhesive failure, and cannot be blamed on the junior class.

This one? I’m really hoping it had everything to do with the sign maker and nothing to do with the athletic department.

Meredith: How do you say that word? Assitivities?

Me: Um, no. A-city-vitties.

Meredith: I like Assitivities.

Me: Hhhhh. Me too.
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You are cordially invited to admire my senior photo from high school and take a chance at winning $150!

Please read about my extraordinary family, and follow the links to win all sorts of prizes! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Sidney. Bono. Yoda. Apples.

Jeff and I were watching a documentary about U2.

Sidney began to mimic Bono’s posture.

We all laughed and laughed.

(All of this to ask: Do you have a favorite variety of apple? I just did a side by side comparison of SweeTango and Honeycrisp, and SweeTango was definitely the winner. I know at least three people who would slap me for saying such a thing, but look at me. I just said it.)
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You are cordially invited to admire my senior photo from high school and take a chance at winning $150!

Please read about my extraordinary family, and follow the links to win all sorts of prizes! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

I ain’t gonna study war no more.

On Friday evening the temperature dropped and the four of us found ourselves sitting around in the family room with the windows open and the television off. Perfect night. Then, all of a sudden: “I SAID HELLO, MARY LOU! GOODBYE HEART! SWEET MARY LOU I’M SO IN LOVE WITH YOU!!!”

Jeff: Girls, do you hear that? The church up the street is having their barbershop quartet sing-off tonight!

Me: Wow! It sounds like they have a new sound system! Should we walk up and watch? There might be snowcones!

Meredith and Harper: NO!

So, we continued to sit and listen from our family room, and the music was a bit loud, yet sort of lovely, and the air was crisp, and all was well. (Five commas!) And then two hours passed, and it was bedtime for the girls, and the whole sing-off thing was quickly losing its charm.

“YOU MUST HAVE BEEN A BEAUTIFUL BABY! YOU MUST HAVE BEEN A WONDERFUL CHILD!!!”

“DOWN BY THE OLD MILL STREAM!!! WHERE I FIRST MET YOU!!! WITH YOUR EYES OF BLUE!!! DRESSED IN GINGHAM, TOO!!!!”

Me: Every time one of the songs comes to an end, I find myself praying that the show is over.

Jeff: I’m starting to wonder if the show will EVER be over.

Meredith: I changed my mind. Let’s go see the singers.

Jeff and Me: No.

Another hour passes.

“YOU HOLD HER HAND, AND SHE HOLDS YOURS AND THAT’S A VERY GOOD SIGN!!! THAT SHE’S YOUR TOOTSIE-WOOTSIE IN THE GOOD OLD SUMMERTIME!!!”

Me: I hate barbershop quartets. HATE them.

“GOODBYE MY CONEY ISLE! GOODBYE MY CONEY ISLE! GOODBYE MY CONEY ISLAND BABE!!!”

Me: I’m going to kill someone. If this doesn’t end soon, I swear I’m calling the police.

Ah, but it did end. And thank God for that, because I was starting to itch in strange places, which I believe indicates the onset of An Episode. I’m not sure who won, but I believe it was the gang who belted out Down by the Riverside. Now that we’re more than 48 hours past the trauma, I feel good admitting that they SHOULD have won. Two words: Harmonized Glissandi. (I’m all about glissandi lately—both the word and the effect. This song is getting a lot of play in my car.) ((By the way, I’m totally going to the barbershop quartet sing-off next year. And I’m taking you with me.))

On Saturday afternoon, we went to the school’s Fall Festival, where plates were broken, faces were painted, and severely awkward conversations were held (because that’s what I tend to do).

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You are cordially invited to admire my senior photo from high school and take a chance at winning $150!

Please read about my extraordinary family, and follow the links to win all sorts of prizes! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Speaking of extraordinary…

Just so you know, if you knock on my door and then start screaming all meth-addict-like about how you need a few bucks to paint neon numbers on my sidewalk? You’re not going to get a couple bucks. AND, when you start getting all stink-eyed and suddenly you’re yelling about how neon numbers will help me “find the bad guys” and “I’ve painted half a million white numbers and half a million black numbers and now I’M PAINTING NEON GREEN NUMBERS FOR JUST A COUPLE BUCKS!” I’m still not going to give you a couple bucks. I’m STILL NOT, damnit!

And another thing. If you came by here a few minutes ago and saw that I was going to give away an owl cozy if you commented on this post, please know that the offer is no longer valid, because it’s actually illegal for me to do such a thing! Although there isn’t a giveaway associated with the post, please feel free to stop by and tell me why your family is extraordinary. If nothing else, it will make you feel warm and fuzzy.

I just spent over an hour trying to figure out if I prefer the Samsung Flight or the Pantech Ease. I finally asked the kind saleswoman to choose for me, and she told me that she didn’t have either in stock, but she’ll hold one of each for me when they arrive this weekend. So now I’m researching. And I’m bored. Does anyone out there know the price of potatoes? (Obviously, that question is code for: Flight or Ease? Anyone?)

I typed this post in five minutes. And you can totally tell.
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You are cordially invited to admire my senior photo from high school and take a chance at winning $150!

Please read about my extraordinary family, and follow the links to win all sorts of prizes! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Japan, Pickles, and Seasonal Ale

As I pulled up the Add New Post screen, my milkman delivered the goods, meaning my refrigerator now contains fresh milk, along with hummus, pesto, Schlafly Pumpkin Ale, kosher baby dills, a sourdough bread starter, leftover spaghetti and meatballs, and a ton of condiments. Today is Respect for the Aged Day in Japan, so I’m going to hug my cat (who is something like 85 years old if I’m doing the math correctly), and dip a pickle in hummus. Let’s hope it sticks. The hummus to the pickle, that is.

Shall we talk about the Schlafly Pumpkin Ale? Every year our neighbors host a block party, and every year Jeff prepares for the party by heading to the store and purchasing a crazy number of bratwurst, buns, and a six-pack of some sort of seasonal beer. Most often, I drink one or two of the beers, and then I’m good for the next six months. A few years ago he purchased some sort of autumnal Budweiser, and it was very okay. Last year saw me holding a raspberry something or other, and I’m not sure I even finished the first one. The Schlafly Pumpkin Ale? Oh my. I drank only one, but I’ve been thinking fondly of it ever since. (I once had a Schlafly Pumpkin Ale Ice Cream Float, and it still goes down as one of the best desserts I’ve ever had.) I don’t really consider myself to be much of a swiller, but when beer tastes like pumpkin pie, I’m in.

Although I definitely don’t need any more sock yarn, I purchased some sock yarn a few weeks back. AND, if you knit at the correct gauge, ghosts begin to form. The last thing I want to do is become the lady who has a pair of socks for every holiday (Respect for the Aged Day!), but I really couldn’t pass this up.

ETA: Oh! I just sent a bulk e-mail to those who wanted the owl cozy pattern. Please let me know if you wanted it but didn’t get it. Thanks!

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You are cordially invited to admire my senior photo from high school and take a chance at winning $150!

Please read about my extraordinary family, and follow the links to win all sorts of prizes! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

It must have been the soy.

Observation: Yesterday I made a pot of pasta fagioli, but I added soy crumbles instead of ground beef. Within thirty minutes of eating it, I found myself at the school’s Curriculum Night actually socializing with people I had never met. Stranger yet: I wasn’t even wearing my Cocksure Shoes.

Hypothesis: Soy somehow numbs my amygdala, thereby reducing my normal level of social anxiety. (Luckily, my numbed amygdala did NOT stir up any symptoms of hyperorality, which I just learned is a condition in which inappropriate objects are placed in the mouth. That could have been a bit awkward at Curriculum Night! “No, Mrs. Pudding. I don’t need my stapler back. You sort of claimed ownership by sucking on it during my presentation.”)

Alert the scientific journals! Soy inspires charm and eliminates sweaty palms! PLUS, it’s loaded with calcium, iron, and fiber!

I really do love the girls’ school. I love that every kid gets a free breakfast. I love that during their unit on Economics, each second grader will apply for a job, go through training and “work” at their job during a field trip, receive a paycheck, discover the joys of banking, and prioritize their earnings. I love that all kindergarteners are split up into focus groups during the day to work on the things where they might be struggling a bit. I love that Harper now knows the importance of Respect, Responsibility, and Peace—all because it’s part of the school’s creed.

I learned a lot about my kids last night. Specifically, Meredith wants to be a high school cheerleader (or tennis player) who spends her adult life sheltering dogs, and the three wishes she has for her future have nothing to do with ending hunger, eliminating cancer, or striving for peace. It’s all about scoring a dog, a computer, and an iPod.

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You are cordially invited to admire my senior photo from high school and take a chance at winning $150!

Please read about my extraordinary family, and follow the links to win all sorts of prizes! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Owls and Dinners and Roses, etc.

So, I’m thinking this year’s Christmas gifts for teachers will consist of a 16 oz. coffee cup filled with a gift card and surrounded with an owl cozy.

Either that or mittens. It’s a tough decision. Cozies are quicker. Mittens are more useful. Both are equally warm and woolly.

My segues lack novelty: Speaking of tough decisions, about a week ago I threw a crazy fit that had something to do with me being tired of fixing a different dinner for everyone in the house. I’m not eating meat. The girls don’t want to eat what I make for Jeff, and they tend to want only chicken noodle soup or chicken nuggets for dinner, and argh! End of my rope! Jeff, being my hero and all, quickly found a service that puts together meal plans with recipes and shopping lists based on your family’s needs.

And, guess what? We “sold” it to the kids by talking about how fun it’s going to be to eat the same thing for dinner and how it will free up more time for reading and playing games and New Chapter for the Puddings and whatever, and Friday found both of my kids eating meatloaf filled with zucchini and carrots. AND, I’m able to eat the healthy side dishes and keep the vegetarian thing going. $1.25 each week, and everyone is winning. (I apologize if I seem a bit too excited about this. When you’ve gone nearly five years fixing at least three different meals for everyone’s dinner and suddenly everyone has the same stuff on their plate and they’re actually eating it? It makes me dance. And I’m no dancer. I’ll keep their link in my sidebar until I fall out of love with them.)

Finally, do you remember how my parents gave me a lovely rose bush for my birthday and I got all horticultural and replanted it next to our house and it suddenly died? Last week, as everyone in my family was eating pork chops and gravy over egg noodles (!!!), this was happening on the rose bush.

It’s tiny and sort of damaged, but I’ll take it. Also, I distributed over 100 fliers with my neighbor last week, and she thanked me by giving us a hummingbird feeder, which is the most perfect gift because Fliers and Fliers! Anyway, at this moment in time, I’m 100% into the hummingbirds. I’ve already made two batches of food for them, and they’ve promised to not migrate until early November. (I know they’re lying to me, but at least we’re communicating.)

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Please read about my extraordinary family, and follow the links to win all sorts of prizes! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Artwork for Another Mother

Last night I went to a taco slash cupcake gathering and it was just as amazing and fun as it sounds, and when I returned home I found this picture (created on the computer by Harper) sitting on top of my knitting.

As if I wasn’t feeling warm and fuzzy enough, this put me right over the top.

This morning I thanked Harper for the gift.

Me: Harper?

Harp: Yep?

Me: I really love the Mom picture you made for me last night.

Harp: What Mom picture?

Me (holding up the Mom picture): This Mom picture. AND, I love that you wrote “i Love You MommY” across the bottom.

Harp: Oh. Well. Mommy?

Me: Yes?

Harp: I didn’t make that for you. It’s not yours.

Nothing can be assumed in The House of Pudding. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Oh, Barbie…

This morning I went into the girls’ bathroom and found this on the tub.

(I have given the girls permission to throw all Barbies into the bathtub, which means I can throw them all away in a few months when their hair starts to get nasty.) Apparently, this particular Barbie is making the most of her limited amount of time in our house. Seriously: Who can beat a naked duck riding party on a cool Wednesday night in September?

Meanwhile, Barbie’s friend (a.k.a. Barbie) was involved in some sort of devastating holiday duck misadventure.

This sort of behavior will not be tolerated at The Pudding House. She’ll be checking into rehab (a.k.a. The Trash Can) later this afternoon. Without the ducks.
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Less than a week to go!!! Come over here, read about my disaster cake decorating experience, tell me a funny story, and you could win $150! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>