Final Doctor Appointment and an apology…

I see my surgeon for the final visit in which my last stitches will be removed (see previous post) and my ‘after’ photos will be taken ( I think).   Can you say, ‘HOORAY’ ?!!  Good for you.  I knew you could! Thankyouverymuch.  Now to get an actual job that will make some much-needed cash since I haven’t worked outside our home in nine years.

I managed to miss out on thanking our Troops on Memorial Day.  Mere words escape me.  “Thank you for defending the U.S.A.” does not seem sufficient to me.  I read a blog page from Memorial Day that another wonderful  mom posted in honor of the holiday.  Please click here to read DaPoppins post.  My apologies to our troops. You are fighting under the direct orders of a President I voted into office for the first term, but no longer feel driven to support. 


The Ghost of Thanksgiving Past…

Note from the Editor:  This post is Rated ‘R’ for use of the F-word!

1125_burnt_turkey.jpegAutumn of 1994, I owned a new Saturn with a leaky rear window seal.  How did I know it was leaking, you ask? Dallas, Texas had a long dry spell that fall, so when we finally had a storm, in November, and my back seat was wet,  I surmised that there might be a leak.  So I did what any naive, single girl would do: I took my car back to the dealership where I had purchased the Saturn and reported the problem.  Of course, I finally waited for a day off work so I could drive the car across town and we’d had no rain for a few days, so the seat was dry when I got there.  After four hours in the waiting area, the technician told me that he was unable to recreate the soggy backseat (using the washbay at the dealership).  He basically patted me on the head and sent me away.  Grrrr!

The next time it rained ( a month later), my backseat was wet again.  I did not pass go, did not collect $250 dollars – I drove straight to the dealership. The same day.  This time, the technician told me that my backseat was NOT wet, that he was very busy with legitimate customer complaints, and pointed me to the door.  Say it with me now: NO HE DI-IN’T!

I asked to see the General Manager of the Saturn dealership, who obviously had a chat with the technician before meeting with me.   The GM walked into his office, where I had been waiting, and before he even sat down, he was already asking me what I was trying to ‘squeeze’ them for.  Huh?  I explained to him how I felt about the way I had been treated by the Service Department, and how I was offended by the question he had just asked me.  I asked him to come out to my car with me, and he agreed.  When we got out to the car, he felt the backseat and told me it was not even damp.  Of course, I asked him to put his Dockers-clad ass in that backseat to prove it was indeed not wet.  Not surprisingly, the GM was not willing to do that for me.  Neither was the technician!  The GM and I walked back to his office, sat down, and he asked me again to explain what I wanted. I calmly explained that I was only interested in having my records transferred to a Saturn dealership a little closer to my home and a couple of oil changes thrown in for compensation for all the aggravation with their particular service department.   The GM agreed to send my records over to the other Saturn dealership, but felt that the oil changes were asking too much.  We went over and over the obvious disservice I had endured, but the manager would not budge.  He finished by telling me, “I think we’re done here. Have a Happy Thanksgiving.”  To which I responded, “Fuck you.  I hope your turkey burns.” Then I got up and marched out of his office.  

I did finally get my car window seal repaired – at another dealership.  My family never celebrates Thanksgiving without making me share the story again and I’m certain that this year will be no different.  Even twelve years later, it still brings a smile.

Have a Blessed Thanksgiving.  I hope your turkey does NOT burn!

Another Update

This morning, I saw my doctor yet again.  Praise God that all these follow-up visits have been at no charge!

The doc is very pleased with my progress in healing.  I have definitely turned the corner with this infection.  I’ll continue to be on antibiotics for a few more days.  Trust me, when dealing with MRSA, it’s always better to be safe than sorry.  What’s a few more days if it means being certain that all the infection is gone for good?

I do still have a sizable hole in my left butt cheek, currently packed with antibiotic-laden gauze, which makes sitting rather uncomfortable.  While I do have pain meds to take (Vicodin), I did not take any today.  I even amazed myself with not automatically medicating myself this morning! 

The irony in this week has been the fact that we have been focused on the Integumentary System ( the skin ) of the human body.  In fact, we learned all about the layers of skin and how they serve as protection from pathogens.  It would seem that my own integumentary system let me down!

In any case, my next visit to follow-up with the doctor is on Saturday.  Hopefully, I’l get the all-clear at that point.  I’ll let you know.

Yep, I’m Barbie!

hpim1502.JPG I honestly believe I have Dyslexic Anorexia, because I believe that I am smokin’ hot…then I see a picture of myself.  Yes, even fully-clothed.  Should I be in a class with 19 and 20 year olds? Um, not when I have to wear a swimsuit on a regular basis.  I have not stepped on the scale since before our trip to Las Vegas (in July).  I’ve been angry that the pants that I purchased for that very trip now have a zipper that will not stay up.  I wouldn’t stay  up either if somebody was trying to shove in ten extra pounds.  That’s what I’ve been doing.  In the six weeks since our romantic vacation (sans kiddos) in Vegas, I’ve gained ten pounds. Yep.  I stepped on the scale this very morning.  It weighed me ten pounds heavy. I think I need a new one, don’t you?

In spite of that emotional devastation this morning, what’s the first thing I did in my Massage Therapy class this morning?  I took off my top for the class to see how my skin reacted to having a cold compress on it for 30 minutes.  They didn’t just SEE my bare back (tattoos, freckles, moles and all) the instructor asked them each to FEEL my skin afterward.  Good thing that the ice packs had made my skin completely numb by that point, or I might have barfed in my mouth a little.  Hard to hide that.

Tomorrow? Bathing suits again. Yippee!

Movies that show families WAY worse than yours.

There’s nothing better than going to a State Fair to boost your confidentce in both your physical appearance and your parenting style.  C’mon! You know that you’ve thought the same thing at some point.  Especially after seeing a woman with so much body hair she looked positively furry while she was waiting in the concession line in front of you. Then seeing a small child step out from her shadow, you realized that someone actually procreated a child with that mother.

Of course, H’wood is not the shining example of parenthood, by any means.  There are a few movies that will leave you feeling better about the job you do as a parent.  Just click here.  Be sure to come back and leave comments!

Am I a Mean Mommy?

My daughters (all three of them) once loved to eat my lasagna: Italian sausage, ricotta, tomato sauce, layered between lasagna noodles and topped with mozzarella cheese.  A month ago, my five and a half year old daughter, Catie, began a phase I now refer to as the ‘Tomater-Hater Stage’.  Since lasagna is a regular meal for my family of five, I decided to try out some substitution for the tomato sauce.  Catie agreed to give each a try.  I began with Ragu’s Cheese Sauce, still with the sausage, ricotta cheese and mozzarella.  Catie told me after the first bite, “It tastes like macaroni and cheese with meat.”  So that version of the standard recipe was a THUMBS DOWN

Next, I tried Alfredo Sauce, still with the ricotta cheese and mozzarella.  My older daughter agreed it was okay, but still missing something.

Last night, I made the lasagna with these recipe variations: Alfredo sauce, turkey Italian sausage, frozen spinach (thought I’d risk it), ricotta cheese, topped with a fiesta blend of shredded cheese.  Rosie saw me setting the table, ran down the hall, calling her sisters: “Hay-wee! Kay-tee! Dee-know Time!”  All three girls came to the table, and while Catie put me through the third degree on the ingredients, Halie dug into her food.  My seven year old began grunting with delight, then telling her sister how greatit was.  Catie, trusting her older sister, timidly tasted her first small bite.  She began shoveling the lasagna in, and proclaiming the same thing!  At one point, Catie asked aloud about the green things in the lasagna.  Before I could even answer, Halie piped in: “It tastes so good, it must be peppers!”  Knowing that if I corrected Halie and told them it was indeed spinach I would be cleaning up vomit off my table, walls and floor, I bit my tongue and let them enjoy. 

When my husband got home, we immediately took the girls to get Back-to-Schoolhaircuts. My DH was unable to drive us home afterward, having paid with his arms and one leg. 😉  As we headed home, the girls jammed to music in the back seats, and I leaned over and told my husband about the whole lasagna incident.  He told me that I should blog it!  So, here it is:  What do YOU think? What would YOU have done?