November 8, 2014

A little bit of mouth exercise, a little bit of reading a book that is STIRRING UP SO MUCH TROUBLE, some freelance that is somehow laced with Ambien, knitting, eating Rice Krispies treats, tap dancing (I HAVE SO MANY HIDDEN TALENTS!!!), and finally? Scout love.

Thanks for sticking with me. (I’m sorry about the weird pop-up ad. It was not intentional, and I cannot figure out how to remove it. Oh, YouTube.) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Your mind’s been rearranged.

When Harper and I walked out to the bus stop this morning, we were excited to see frost.

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After she boarded the bus, I grabbed some breakfast and headed to the mall so that Tempe and I could do our annual Sharing of the Lip Gloss Bundle. (Pictured here are the ones I’ve now added to my collection, along with an eyebrow liner which I will surely apply incorrectly, a tinted moisturizer that I was told to wear OVER my current moisturizer, and a weird powder thing that will set my face. Heh. (???) (!!!))

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And, right now this is happening in our back yard. The sun is making everything look fiery, and I really do love this time of year.

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Four Smooshes and a Latte

So, this morning I did my yearly mammogram gig. Because of the weird scare last year, I decided to go to an actual hospital this time around. I thought I would leave with my results, but apparently I have to wait until at least the middle of next week to receive my letter in the mail. (I was told that the letter would say something to the effect of, “All Clear!” or “Whoops! We see something strange, so we’re waiting on the strip mall x-ray center to send your images from last year.” or “You should probably drop what you’re doing right now and call to make another appointment.”)

(Public Service Announcement: If you’ve never had a mammogram and you’re spooked by the thought, I explain the procedure over here.)

Anyway, after I went topless and opened my robe to the front, I sat in the waiting room with four other women. I heard a rumor that this particular hospital has only one 3-D mammogram machine and that for now, they’re reporting it to insurance companies as a 2-D. (Insurance will nearly always cover a 2-D. 3-D? Not so much.) None of us knew which room had the 3-D machine, which made the waiting room feel ELECTRIC–like potentially being chosen to “Come on down!” during a taping of The Price is Right. (Disclaimer: Supposedly, 2-D machines are JUST AS GOOD as 3-D machines. Ah, but if they’re REALLY just as good, why would a hospital invest in a super-expensive machine that insurance companies may not cover? I’m the first to admit that I have no idea what I’m talking about half of the time, but to me? 3-D seems to one up 2-D. Finally, I’m really (really) hoping that eventually the 3-D machines start using holography to laser beam my chest onto the wall. (Bonus points if my chesty hologram is able to speak to me. WELCOME TO THE FUTURE!))

When my name was called, the mammogram technician took me into a room and said, “My name is Judy, and I’ll be doing your mammogram today on the 3-D machine.”

Me: YES!

Judy: Actually the 2-D machines are just as effective as the 3-D machines. Buying a 3-D machine is just the hospital’s way of keeping with the times. For now, we’re coding it as a 2-D machine, but eventually you’ll have to ask your insurance company if they’ll approve a 3-D mammogram.

Me (to myself, while taking my left arm out of the robe): I’m walking on sunshine, WHOA-OH!

After four images, she told me that she needed me to sign a paper so they could get last year’s images. And I’m sure that’s a standard thing, but it flooded me with horrible memories from last year. SO, I signed the paper, got dressed, and headed straight to a coffee dump where I grabbed a caramel latte. (Because I tend to control my emotions with coffee and/or too much pie.)

I’ll keep you updated.

Until then, watch this. It’s the first time a dance has choked me.

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You’ll find that life is still worthwhile if you just smile, Nat King Cole.

I’ve spent pretty much all of my life going to dentists who make me feel uncomfortable.

Dentist #1: My childhood dentist who died. He was a good guy, but I had to stop seeing him because he died. (Continuing our relationship would have been creepy. Illegal, even.)

Dentist #2: The dentist who set up an appointment for a check-up, and then talked me into letting him sedate me and remove two wisdom teeth. When I woke up, he asked if I had a driver. When I said, “No. This was originally scheduled as a check-up.”, he said, “Well, be REALLY careful on your way home.” (I should not have been driving. I realized that when I was about halfway home. This will tell you how loopy I was: I drove past my apartment and straight to McDonald’s, where I tried to order a vanilla shake with my mouth full of bloody gauze. I ended up having to pull up to the window to place my order, and I’m sure I rattled the drive-thru employee with my bloody gauze, swollen face, and inability to speak.)

Dentist #3: The guy in Nashville who told me that he had a friend who could remove six of my teeth and then slap some braces on me to help me lose my migraines forever. That was fine (I had the teeth removed and I had the braces, but I continued to get migraines. Damnit to hell!) until he said, “But be aware that you’re not going to have those pretty fat lips when your braces come off.” Dear Lord, Nashville dentist. Pretty fat lips?!

Dentist #4: The guy who was recommended by a friend and I really really liked him, but he retired less than two months after seeing me for the first time. Argh!

Dentist #5 and #6: The married couple who took over #4’s practice. They were nice enough (although their political opinions are vastly different than mine. Please know that they made their opinions VERY well known, and they assumed I agreed with them. I’ve learned to act like I’m cool with whatever you’re saying if you’re holding a drill and pointing it at my mouth.), but they were highly impatient if you raised your hand because you were feeling pain and needed a break. The final straw came around when #6 didn’t wait until I was numb before he started drilling, and when I raised my hand and said, “I’m not numb.” he slammed the drill down and yelled for the receptionist to schedule more time for me. He then told the assistant that he really didn’t have time for this. And then, because my teeth aren’t the only things that are sensitive, a lonely tear ran out of my eye and dripped off of my ear and I know he saw it, but he remained all cold and weird. And that’s when I started apologizing over and over again. (I KNOW everyone occasionally (or often, even) has a bad day, but I don’t need your bad day to make MY day bad!)

Dentist #7: I used a Groupon. Need I say more? Actually, I do need to say more. This experience was so terrible that after the appointment, I sat in my car outside of a family-owned deli (and a cat clinic) and cried for nearly 15 minutes before I drove home. (I AM EMOTIONAL SOMETIMES!)

Dentist #8: Feeling desperate, I returned to #6. Still the same nice guy with very little patience. (When I asked about whitening, he said, “Why don’t you go to Walgreens and get yourself some strips? You’ll quickly learn that they don’t work and that your teeth just change colors as you age.” OUR PERSONALITIES ARE VERY DIFFERENT, NO-NONSENSE DENTIST!)

Dentist #9: Jeff’s boss’s boss recommended this dentist, and I’m very pleased to say that he will be my Forever Dentist. Broadway artwork on the walls. Vacation photography slideshows in the exam rooms. Hygienists who listen and compliment my hair. An office manager who is super friendly and kind.

Anyway, I went to #9 yesterday morning, and as soon as I walked in the door, the office manager said, “I have something to tell you.”

Me: What is it?

Office Manager (I’m not providing her real name because: Anonymity!): Are you a blogger?

Me (very reluctantly, because I don’t really identify myself as a blogger): Yes.

Office Manger: My daughter in New York knows your blog.

From there, we had a five minute conversation about a website that watches nannies and reports negligent behavior, parenting blogs with questionable commenters, and what it’s like to grow up in the city as opposed to the suburbs. I then went back and had my teeth cleaned and checked out, and was given the Free to Fly for six months. No yelling. No tears. No sedation, no driving drunk, and best of all? No Slingblade-esque comments about my mouth.

Anyway, Yes. It always makes my day when someone else brings up my website. It’s rare, but smiley. Like “I’ve finally found a nice dentist” smiley.

Enjoy the rest of your Wednesday.

NaBloPoMo is tough. Let me know if you need/want anything from me. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Sandwiches and Sweaters

This is the avocado sandwich I made for Jeff this evening.

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This is the festive holiday cardigan I tried on at the mall a few hours ago.

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(The scarf is the result of CGI. I wouldn’t wear the cardigan without a scarf.) Anyway, I sent a photo of the sweater to Jeff with a note that said, “Honesty. Is this tacky?”

Jeff: There’s a lot going on.

Me: Are you talking about the dancing girls and the dog and the piano?

Jeff: There are dogs in there?

Me: There’s a dog sitting on the piano.

Anyway, I didn’t purchase the sweater, but I came home with its little cousin–a scarf with the same pattern. Dancing girls and dogs on pianos are best in small doses, don’t you think? ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Perfectea Apple Butter, Perfectea Honey, and German Rock Sugar

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On the left is a jar of apple butter that was delivered to me this morning by my mom and dad. It was made at a church that is attended by a woman named Minerva who lives across the street from my folks. When stirred into hot tea? It is PERFECT. (It is also perfect when spread thinly (or even thickly) onto an English muffin.)

On the right is a jar of honey that was passed along to Jeff yesterday by his mom and dad, who have hives on their property. We get one or two jars each year from them. When stirred into hot tea? It is PERFECT. (It is also perfect when drizzled over the cookies that are made with only oats and bananas. That link will take you to a version that contains walnuts. I leave out the walnuts.)

One other thing that is perfect when stirred into hot tea? Teavana’s German Rock Sugar, which is now called Perfectea Rock Sugar and I personally think the name change is crap, and I wonder if it has anything at all to do with the three-way marriage between Oprah (and her weird chai blend), Starbucks, and Teavana. The jar I have was purchased as German Rock Sugar, and I’m not sure I’ll ever buy Perfectea Rock Sugar, because: Come On. (The good news? With all of this apple butter and honey, it will be a long time before I need to explore my convictions.) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Blank Space is a good place to start.

Jeff took the girls to his parents’ house, and all I got was a bunch of freelance done and this amazing shirt:

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(Also, some weird flaky Nutter Butter cookie things, another chapter of Mockingjay completed, three rows and a leaf knit onto my Leftie, and a load of laundry dried.)

((I also considered making pumpkin pie snickerdoodles, but then I changed my mind and ran in place to a Taylor Swift song. Meredith bought the new album, and I allow myself to listen to it only if I’m running in place (or driving a car). If you need more of an explanation for this, you really don’t know me at all.)) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

The Need to Knows for NaBloPoMo, Day One

Harper and I are currently reading Mockingjay together (although she’s currently around 30 pages ahead of me) to prepare for the movie release. I really need to pick up the pace, because I grabbed both Not That Kind of Girl and One Day from the library this afternoon. (Living so close to the library has been one of my favorite things about moving.)

Eighteen years ago this evening found Jeff and I on our first date. We ate Thai food and then went to the art museum to catch the St. Louis Film Festival’s showing of Shine. Afterwards, we drank coffee and I decided that this was the guy with whom I was supposed to hang out until death us do part. (The night before our first date found us at a Halloween happy hour with many co-workers, including the daughter of Susan B. Komen. (Don’t get me started.) Anyway, I eventually journeyed to the restroom where I apparently took too long to tuck my big bulky sweater into my jeans, because when I returned to the table, I found that everyone had left—except for Jeff. The two of us then drove 20 miles south to eat toast at a diner, but it didn’t count as a date because Thai + Art Museum > Beer + Toast.)

Tempe and I are knitting Leftie by Martina Behm. It’s an easy and fun knit, and mine is looking like this:

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My dad’s tomato plants froze up last night which means it’s the time of year when I transform into Fitful Knitter.

(If you’re knitting something, let me know what it is. There’s a good chance that I’ll make one, too.)

I hope your Halloween was a good one and that your Saturday has been even better. I’ll see you tomorrow. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

They should have Halloween on St. Patrick’s Day.

So, three days in a row must mean that not only am I going to throw my goat into the rodeo for NaBloPoMo, BUT, I’ve actually started early.

The girls were off school today, so we celebrated by driving 20 miles south to my doctor’s office, where I made the following announcement:

“I haven’t slept for more than one or two hours at a time in over a month, and sometimes when I wake up I’m making death claws with my hands.”

We talked for a bit (about Halloween and the weather!), he complimented my blood pressure (90/68!), I told him I take 10,000 steps each day (I did last week because a friend threw down a sparkling gauntlet, but this week not so much), and I walked away with a suggestion (to get my heart rate up to a 7/10 daily) and a bottle of Trazodone. And before you click your tongue and tell me about how terrible Trazodone is, please stop. STOP. First, because that clicking sound makes me so angry, and finally, because I’m impressionable and I don’t want to swallow a pill tonight thinking, “This is the pill that made ArizonaSportsFan24 want to die.” Instead, I will swallow that pill thinking, “This is the non-addictive pill with little to no side effects (except for that weird priapism thing) that will get me back on the road to wellness.” And in a few weeks I’ll feel great and will stop the pills. The End.

After the appointment, I took the girls to the mall because I was jonesing for some quick and easy coffee, Harper felt that she deserved hot chocolate, and Meredith was having visions of cinnamon sugar pretzel nuggets. Plus, we needed tights, and I wanted to find a pair of cheap and casual black boots. (Success. $12.)

In approximately 10 minutes we’ll be driving to the store for avocados, spinach, French bread, and bananas. And then I suppose I should start thinking about cutting a hole or four into a pumpkin. I’ve never been a fan of Halloween, mainly because hell is people coming to my door, regardless of their age. (Last year we put a cauldron full of candy outside with a sign that said, “Please take one or two.” Less than ten minutes later, the cauldron was empty because someone clearly couldn’t read.) Now that we’re in a subdivision with 34,239 kids, I have no idea what to expect.

This photo was taken exactly seven years ago.

Murray Wiggle and Dorothy prepare for candy begging.

Meredith was Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz, and Harper was Murray Wiggle.

This year, Meredith will be Hazel Grace Lancaster from The Fault in Our Stars, and Harper will be Glimmer, the career tribute from District One in the Hunger Games.

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We don’t even OWN a hibachi.

Me (on the phone with my mother): I am pleased to report that Dr. H had a cancellation and will be able to see me tomorrow morning at 9:00.

Mom: Why are you going to the doctor?

Me: The no sleep thing is driving me crazy, and something needs to be done.

Mom: This is the first I’ve heard of your nosebleeds!

Me: I’m not having nosebleeds!

Mom: Then why are you going to the doctor?

On a related note, I had a hearing test on Monday because I’m a little off and I feel like I’m either losing my hearing or everyone is starting to mumble around me. Please know that my eye doctor once told me that a normal person with my vision would not require glasses, but some people are especially sensitive to slight changes and glasses seem to help, regardless of how weak the prescription is.

Audiologist: I would give you an A+ on your hearing, but maybe you’re one of those sensitive people who are really thrown off by tiny changes.

(He then said something about ear wax, and I asked him to stop talking because: Ear Wax.)

Teavana’s “Spice of Life” tea is one of my very favorite things right now and I’ll certainly give NaBloPoMo a shot, but be aware that the entire month will find me wearing my Reticence is Forgiven shirt. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>