Tossing Hats into Rings and Whispering “NaBloPoMo.”

Scary Selena Gomez and Rose Princess

So, yeah. We did the Halloween thing. Meredith was Scary Selena Gomez, and Harper was Rose Princess.

Pumpkin Mosaic

I don’t really get into Halloween, although I try my best to put on a good show, what with the “Ooh! You look so spooooky!” and the “What a beyooootiful princess!!!” schlock that I tend to puke up every time someone knocks on my door. (I really do get into the pumpkin carving thing. With that said, I believe I pulled a muscle in my back carving the Hello Kitty pumpkin for Meredith. I’m 147 years old.)

Spooky Pumpkin Guy!

There was a spooky pumpkin guy at the school’s Trunk or Treat on Friday, and his mouth looks like Jeff’s mouth. So, although Jeff swears he was working late and could not be at the Trunk or Treat, I like to pretend that he really was there—all goofified in a pumpkin head and staying silent to up his spooky cred. (Sometimes I type poetry by accident. I’m sure Allen Ginsberg knows what I’m talking about.) (Note: Goofified? You won’t find it in the dictionary. And that’s a shame.)

Ghost Socks!

I finished my ghost socks just in time for Halloween, and then I forgot to wear them. I believe Teddy Roosevelt once said that Election Day is a good day for ghost socks. (Oh! Before you think I got all crazy talented with the ghost socks, please know that the dyer actually dyed the yarn so that if you knit at seven stitches per inch, the ghosts appear. That’s all you have to do. Genius.)

To keep up with tradition, I’m thinking of posting every day this month. I already know that I’m going to have five days of trickiness around Thanksgiving, so I’m not going to officially sign on for NaBloPoMo. Let’s see what happens.
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My roommate once told me I was Very Wide. Follow this link to read the story, and you could win $150! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Title, Title, Title. I made you out of clay.

Well, good morning!

I currently have three things written on my calendar for today. First off? It’s my sister-in-law’s birthday. She lives in Seattle. If you live in Seattle, please raise your drink to Susan at some point during the day. Also, today is Breast Cancer Awareness Day. I checked that item off fairly quickly. Next up? Labour Day in New Zealand. If you’re living in New Zealand I wish you the absolute happiest of Labour Days. Done.

This weekend we went to a pumpkin patch where the girls did a mini zipline sort of thing. Some people hyphenate zipline. Some people say it’s two words. The people in Maui go with Zipline, and I’m going to follow their lead. Mahalo nui loa.

hrzip

mczip

In about twenty minutes, I’m going to go out there and be the best Angela Pudding I can be. I encourage you to do the same, but using your own fake last name.
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My roommate once told me I was Very Wide. Follow this link to read the story, and you could win $150! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Why, yes. I’d love some.

First off? I love each and every one of you for your words of wisdom and concern regarding my crazy headache drama. Without going into too much detail (Just wait a few paragraphs. You know how I am), I believe I am on the mend. So, it now appears that we have a bit of catching up to do related to things that don’t really impact your life at all. But isn’t that how it is when you find yourself sitting across the table from someone? Let’s pretend you and I are enjoying some coffee, and it’s my turn to talk. (I always let you go first, because I’m sort of a Girl Scout like that.) I’ll even put my words in quotation marks so it really seems like I’m using my larynx! Don’t we have fun?

“Yep. As much as I think I would like to hang out with Nate Berkus for a few minutes, I really don’t believe his show is going to last. It’s all over the place and he’s giving pillows away to a sad lady and then all of a sudden a little bouncy girl is featured who designs semi-hoochie clothes, and then we’re talking about dating, and married couples who put sex at the bottom of their totem pole, and some lady keeps a litter box in her bedroom, and really. So much shifting of the focus, and no vintage ribbon to tie it all together.”

“Jeff and I celebrated nine years of marriage on Wednesday by taking Harper to karate, picking Meredith up from scouts, and taking both kids to church choir. We shut the night down with French silk pie, which really isn’t a bad way to shut things down. Jeff presented me with nine roses. I presented him with The Instructions. This evening may find us indulging in a bit of sushification.”

“I just finished my part of a smooth sailing freelance project, and I’m now taking time off while I adjust to my new migraine prevention pills. I’m feeling a few hours of relief each day from the headache, but I’m replacing the pain with a constant haze that, according to my doctor, should last no longer than six weeks. I’m high. When I reach for something, my hand arrives a split second after I think it should. Yesterday, after my neighbor and I discovered that we were both craving Indian food, I found myself filling my plate at Gokul’s buffet. When my plate was full, I went and sat down at a different table from where we had been seated just a few minutes before. Excuse me while I kiss the sky, Guster.”

“Last night we went to the middle school for a family game night, and for the first time ever, Harper kicked my butt at checkers. (This may or may not have anything to do with the anti-seizure meds. Whee!) After each move, she took breaks to work on the book she’s writing about brownies. I would document all of this in her baby book, but why start now?”

“An older bow-tied gentleman at church once noticed that I tend to put the sugar in the cup before pouring in the coffee. He nodded his head and said, ‘Ah! You’re a Pre-Sugarian!’ That will stick with me for the rest of my life.”

“You look so pretty slash handsome today. Please pass the Doritos.”
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My roommate once told me I was Very Wide. Follow this link to read the story, and you could win $150! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

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’>

I’m not internationally known, but I’m known to rock the microphone.

On Saturday morning, we packed up the car and headed to Columbia, Missouri to watch the Missouri Tigers KILL the Colorado Buffalos. (I’m all-capping the word KILL to make you think I’m a big football fan. In reality? Not so much. The final score of the game was 26-0, which I believe qualifies as a kill. Remind me to tell you about the time I found myself in Colorado playing the horn of some guy who was out sick with a foot fungus. During that same trip, I ended up wearing a sombrero and singing in a mariachi band. I live the life I love and I love the life I live.)

MIZ(hyphen)ZOU

Our seats were way on the eastern side of the field, and I think we all know that I’m making that eastern thing up. I have no sense of direction. All I know is that 21-year-old students look a lot younger now than they did when I was a student at Mizzou.

While we were in Columbia, Jeff and the girls were very patient with me as I shared my most remarkable memories with them.

Truman

I once (mostly accidentally) shaved my head, and my best friend (who was one of the Trumans!) cheered me up by letting me parade around in her Truman suit.

That particular incident most likely took place in this house, which was known as the DOG House, and my capitalization would make much more sense if I was allowed to use Greek letters in this post:

DOGhouse

(The incident really did take place at the DOG house, but I’m not completely sure this IS the DOG house. My shadow is growing longer!!! And why are Greek letters giving me error messages?!)

Look at this building and tell me it doesn’t look like a fish with a big gaping mouth that vomits sorority girls!

Memorial Union Fish Face

I know! I think so, too!

Puke Bench

Speaking of vomit, it was at this very bench where my friend Séve and I took a break from walking home after a long night out. While taking that break, I leaned over and threw up onto the sidewalk. (I know. I was just as mortified as you are right now.) Séve, God love him, simply squeezed my hand and said, “Oh, honey. You had spaghetti for supper.” (Yes. The girls are pretending to throw up in the photo. They also pretended to cry afterward, because I always cry after throwing up. I gave birth to Good Sports.)

Columns with Girls

We hung out at the columns, where I once engaged in a Big Mac fight, because I was young and stupid and not yet aware of how many homeless people were roaming the streets just a few blocks over.

903 Moss

This is the house where I lived after graduation. It’s a tiny house, and four of us (sometimes five, sometimes seven and a baby) lived there. I spent many hours sitting on the roof of that house. (One of my roommates built the screened-in porch, which eventually brought us down from the roof.)

Pens come in handy.

When everyone is talking football and the only thing to eat is meaty sandwiches, Harper and I tend to transform our hands into hecklers.

Harper Quote of the Weekend: The sweat in my armpit smells like onions.

Meredith Quote of the Weekend: When I burp it tastes like sausage.

And I share these quotes not because I feel you need to know them, but because I want to remember them. This is my canvas.

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My roommate once told me I was Very Wide. Follow this link to read the story, and you could win $150! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

It’s a smart look. Leaf me alone.

I am at my most uncomfortable when there’s a camera in the room.

Just because a tiny black box with the word Nikon (or Canon or Polaroid or whatever) is around, I smirk, I tilt my head in strange ways, I suddenly look 15 years older, my face develops tics, I begin to cry on the inside, etc. (Seriously—if you think I’m an awkward hugger, you should experience my awkwardness in front of a camera. If anyone tries to take a photo of me hugging someone, I’ll most likely explode.)

A few days ago I finished a cardigan that I’ve been working on (not consistently, mind you) for two years. To take it from Work in Progress to Finished Object was HUGE, and I decided to document my victory on Ravelry.

Jeff followed me (with camera in hand) to the back yard, where I instantly smiled all crazy and proceeded to do my infamous camera freak-out.

I loaded his photos onto the computer, sighed and shook my head at the results, and quickly came up with a solution.

Until I learn how to smile for a photo, I’ll simply have to live my life as a treeface.

Linden B. Johnson. Headless.

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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’>

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.)

Pete!

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.)

Class of 1970

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.

Holywood

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

Acitivities. Hhhhhh.

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.

Sidney and Bono

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’>