Omigawd…

I completely forgot to post an entry today.

I had a very early doctor’s appointment again, and then had to stop to gas up the vehicle on base, and then went to check out if the Le Creuset™ pot was on sale, which it was, and I got, and then came home to a whiny dog who had not been let out, which I rescued, and then to fold the rest of the laundry and then to start a Tres Leches cake which takes FOREVER, and then swing by the grocery store for last minute stuff for dinner, which I am about to go start.

Also, Teresa sent me this link. I ♥ this!!

It is on my List of Things for Aggie’s Birthday®. That’s a list I am now going to leave conspicuously pasted all over the house, starting in September. It’s never too late to start 😉

Today’s Life Lesson

As is my habit, I was on the social-site-with-faces when I noticed one of my friends discussing a certain leader of the free world whining about something. I won’t go into the politics of the post, since y’all know me well enough to know how I feel about it. But he said something that struck me as rather odd.

He fights like a girl.

I know this is supposed to be an insult to men. But the reality is that it’s a cruel lie.

We are vicious. We are cruel. And we fight dirty.

Never, ever think that fighting like a girl is an insult. It isn’t. If someone says that, consider it a warning that either A) the person fighting is vicious, or 2) the person saying it doesn’t know women very well.

Usually it’s #2 😉

Snap Like a Twig

There are days that I feel it coming on. The need to just… SNAP!! Of course, when I do feel the need to do so, my only targets are the dogs, and all they get to hear is “Blah, blah, blah!! Blah, Lenny, blah!!” Seriously, they just end up looking at me like I’m in need of Xanax™ or a swig of Moscato. They are very judgmental. Lucky for the family, the need goes away in the afternoon, so they don’t have to deal with it. Much.

And with the cacophony this morning, I may have need of my BRAND NEW SWITCHBLADE!!!

What can I say? Hubby knows me well 😉

Needles in Soft Haystacks

Well, not real haystacks.

Yesterday was an adventure. And by “adventure”, I mean “roller coaster”. I hate roller coasters. I prefer to keep my feet on the ground and enjoy the scenery rather than have my life flash by in a blur. But every so often one has to get on to prove to oneself that the roller coaster is not the boss of you!

Anyway, I had another mammogram done, as well as an ultrasound. I want to stress that everyone in the Radiology Department was beyond awesome. That doesn’t mean the mammogram was gentle, by any means. To add insult to injury, she had to retake it because she didn’t get enough on the squishy plates. Talk about an ego killer. Once she was done, I went back out to wait for the ultrasound. I felt relief because how bad can the ultrasound be, right? They place a bit of gel in the questionable area and swipe a transducer across to get an image. Piece of cake, right? WRONG!! It turns out it wasn’t just one nodule, but several, and as the technician swiped the transducer across it pushed against a tender area causing a rather large amount of discomfort. To make things worse, she kept missing it, because the cysts kept moving, so she had to dig juuuuust a little more each time to get a good view.

Owie….

Not my actual ultrasound, but a good representation.

Now, imagine about 20 of them. Two of them were proving to be difficult, so the radiologists decided to drain the fluid in each one. And you may ask, just how is this done?

By inserting a syringe and withdrawing the fluid!!

Normally, this is were most people would totally wig out. And I came close, but when push comes to shove, you do what you must, right? So, I sat there as they explained the procedure, and told me how they would apply a local anesthetic so that I wouldn’t feel the needles (one for each cyst). That sounds good so far. Anyway, I laid flat on my back so that he could see the outline of the cysts better, and that’s when he noticed the bruise on the left haystack.

Doc: Wow, what happened here?

Me: Uh… long story.

Hubby: *snickers*

Me: A dog bit it, ok??

Doc: (laughing) This sure isn’t boring.

By now I was just itching to get this over with and done, but of course it’s never simple. I thought the local anesthetic was topical. Noooooooooooo…. it is injected. So there I am, on my side, arm way up over my head and falling asleep, scapula digging into the hard pillow used to prop me on my side, and the resident telling me to stay as still as possible and that I will “just feel a pinch”.

It’s a damn good thing he was a gorgeous redhead because I wanted to kill him on the spot. I was holding Hubby’s hand, clenching it actually, whimpering as quietly as I could, when I started to feel like my arm was ballooning. It was just like being at the dentist’s, only instead of drooling all over my arm just went totally limp. Thank you, Lord, for good drugs. As I watched the ultrasound, I see a needle being inserted into the area, and the resident wiggling it ever closer to the cyst. And what happens? The cyst decides to play coy, and move around!! GAH!!!! So he wiggles some more, into an area that is not completely anesthesized. Um, OY!! But as a good patient, I stay very still, and finally see him prick the cyst and withdraw the fluid. The second cyst was less problematic, but had to be wiggled into place. It was a very weird feeling having one’s haystack be moved around like that. But all good things come to an end.

Now it was time to go over recovery instructions. I figured it would be relatively simple stuff, watching for infection, keeping the swelling down, etc. I was taking it all in, until the nurse said I can only take acetaminophen for pain.

Excuse me??

I don’t get 12,000 mg ibuprofen?? No Vicodin?? NOTHING??? Acetaminophen just doesn’t work for me. I asked her why only that, and her reply was to prevent more bruising and bleeding in the area. To which I almost said, “That’s what Band-Aids™ are for, right??” But I was a good patient, and did as I was told. As I thought, acetaminophen did nothing for the pain, but the cold packs did. Unfortunately I couldn’t sleep with those, so I was a bit uncomfortable, but at least it beats the alternative.

So, in answer to y’all’s question, yes. I do have matching bruises now 😉

Twenty Lipsticks Does Not an Addiction Make

At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.

I was scrolling the blogs this morning, and noticed an interesting ad on someone’s sidebar. Cover Girl™– or maybe it was Maybelline™, some make-up company– was touting sixteen new shades for the summer season. SIXTEEN!!! I sat there and seriously wondered who would own sixteen different lipsticks, though to be fair not all women (or men) could wear the same shades. And for only ONE season. I mean, if I find a shade I like, I don’t retire it because Emily Post said so, you know what I mean? Anyway, I was still muttering about how silly some women are for having so many lipsticks, and went to my make-up basket, and counted….

Not only did I have over 20 lipsticks, I had duplicates of the same shade! Some from Bare Escentuals™, some from Estee Lauder™, one from Guerlain™, and even Chanel™. Oh, and then I found even more hiding in a Tupperware™ container, and shamefully, those I have owned since I used to sell Mary Kay™.

Back in 1997.

But the worst part about this whole thing? I seldom wear lipstick.

So today I shall be deleting old make-up from my stash. And before you ask, no, you may NOT have the Chanel™ lipstick. I do like that one 😉

A Bit Nippy

As God is my witness, I am not making this up.

Yesterday, the window on my van was repaired. That required the presence of a “stranger” in my driveway. My neighbor’s dog, an awesome, well-trained Australian Shepherd, was consequently driven nuts by the fact that someone he doesn’t know was in such close proximity to the area he is tasked to guard. I could hear him barking even while I was inside my house. Anyway, my neighbor was also dogsitting for her parents’ Aussie, a much younger, active, less-trained puppy. This puppy has the gift of egging other dogs on about barking and chasing and doing the things dogs normally do, only at a few orders of magnitude. In other words, the puppy is usually the instigator.

Not the actual Aussie, but gorgeous nonetheless!

After the repairman left, I moved the van into the garage, and then proceeded to go move the Pathfinder to the driveway, since I had parked it on the street. My neighbor, blessed woman that she is, was out with both dogs letting them relieve themselves. Her dog wasn’t on a leash, because he is trained to stay on the lawn. Before I go any further, I must underline how much I like this dog. As I walked down my driveway, perilously close to my neighbor’s yard, the dog, still in protective mode, charges at me. As taught, I stand my ground, and as HE was taught, he charges again.

My neighbor is screaming at her dog while frantically holding on to the instigator puppy.

On the second charge, the dog finds something to nip at. Now, my arms were at my sides, and I was standing sideways to him by this time. The only thing he can detect, small as it is, is my *ahem* upper pectoral milk decanting device. As I said, he is well-trained, so he only nipped at it.

But holy cow that was more than enough!!!

In tears, I get in the Pathfinder and move it, while my neighbor is calming and reinforcing training on her dog. I get out to let her know I’m fine, and hilarity ensues.

Neighbor: ARE YOU OK????

Me: Yes, it hurt a bit but..

Neighbor: OMIGAWD!! Did (name redacted to protect the innocent) bite you???

Me: Just a nip, nothing serious, really. (I am trying to calm her down by now)

Neighbor: Where??

Me: Uh…. (pointing).

Neighbor: OMIGAWD!!! Did he break skin???

(Keep in mind if a dog does draw blood, it must be quarantined for 72 hours, and the person treated for it)

Me: Oh no… not at all. I’m fine.

Neighbor: Are you sure? Take a picture of it and send it to me.

Me: (Laughing) No offense, but that is something I would only do for Hubby!!

Luckily, I am married to a doctor who took it upon himself to *ahem* check it over to make sure it was ok. Yes, it’s a bit tender, but it will heal. Suffice it to say, the dog was very contrite, and did snuggle up to me to make up for it. He sure is an awesome dog, but apparently takes that whole “take a bite out of crime” thing to extremes 😉

Cleaning Binge

I’m on it!

Lately I have had the urge to clean up the stacks of stuff we have around the house. Maybe it was The Queen’s dictate of doing five things a day, or Hubby losing track of stuff, but it has gotten under my skin. And things are looking much better around here.

Now, a lot of the stuff is his, that has been collected while he’s been away. But we also have boxes of books and papers that need their place. This weekend sounds like a fine time to organize that on some shelves in the garage.

Sigh… 😉

Gag Worthy

Be advised: pictures are forthcoming!

There are some foods that, by the pure loving grace of my Creator, I will never, ever ingest. Don’t get me wrong. I have eaten some pretty weird things, like muk tuk, but even the anthropologist in me has her limits.

First, there is Balut. Considered a delicacy in some Asian countries, it is a cooked fertilized duck egg. Yes, fertilized as in embryo.

Just add a dash of salt and some lemon juice, and you are good to go.

To the bathroom to hurl, that is.

Next up we have Haggis. Haggis is nothing more than a sausage, really. A sausage composed of sheep’s liver, heart, and lungs, seasoned and then stuffed into a sheep’s stomach, and then boiled for a few hours.

Hubby has partaken of this while deployed during a celebration. He said it wasn’t bad at all.

I don’t care to find out.

And finally, I come to a heartbreaker, Sardinian Marzu. I love cheese. I really do. I even partake of Limburger. But this…. I just could never, ever eat. Marzu is a goat’s milk cheese to which maggots are added.

Now, after “fermentation”, you are supposed to remove the maggots carefully, and eat the cheese. But some people leave the maggots, because they add an additional rich flavor to the cheese.

I don’t know about y’all, but I can do without ever knowing what cheese-infested maggots taste like.

As a reminder, it’s only a week until Easter, which means I do get to partake of some serious chocolate. That should make up for this post 😉

Postal Fail

I send packages all the time, and usually don’t pay attention to the flat rate Priority Mail™ boxes that are commonly used. I just fill, tape, address, and mail. We all do! So imagine my surprise when Son pointed this out:

You don’t see it yet, do you? Well, neither did I at first, and I’m a fanatical Sith when it comes to spelling and grammar.

That’s right: “Express” has TWO “S”s. (I maybe be a spelling Sith, but I’m not sure how to write the plural of one letter. STOP JUDGING ME!!!) And before you think it’s the French word for it, no it’s supposed to be in English. The French boxes have the circumflex accent ( ˆ ) above the second letter “E”.

Now, I won’t rush to judgment and condemn the entire US Postal Service for this. They probably contract out for such items. But it grates on my nerves that they can’t spell check, or at least decide on ONE spelling for that word. Seriously, pick English or French!

Just not Esperanto 😀

Things I have Done That I Will NEVER Do Again

I have written about my Things to Do Before I Die List™ before. There are romantic places, some innocuous things like camping, and even looking at fossilized bones. I have a weird personality.

But there are some things I have done that I will never, EVER do again. Frankly, I’m amazed I had the courage (or stupidity) to attempt some of them.

#1– Go scuba diving.

I went once when I was 16 or so with my cousins, and it was amazing. I really enjoyed it. Fast forward to my honeymoon. I tried putting on the mask, and claustrophobia set in. I just can’t do it. It’s sad, because Hubby and our friend The Nomstress and her hubby love to go scuba diving. I guess I’ll just be content sitting on the beach, drinking a daiquiri and being waited on by Paolo.

#2– Dive in a shark cage.

I was not drunk. I was a guinea pig. My uncle wanted to do it, and none of my cousins (cowards) would go into the cage with him. My only thought was, “I’ll show them who’s brave…”, and in I went. The whole experience lasted maybe five minutes. In retrospect, I was not as aware of the danger as I should have been. I was in an area of Puerto Rico where once you go ankle deep in the water, you are an active member of the food chain.

Oh look! Sardines!!

Chalk that one up in the “Stupid Tricks” column.

#3– Dance contest.

And yet, alcohol was not involved. I was asked to be the designated driver for a group of managers who were in town for a district meeting. Being the only one familiar with the DFW area, it made sense for me to drive. Well, my manager friends decided to go to a club downtown, to a club that specialized in dance contests. It was like a sing-along bar, only dancing, not singing. And we all had to participate. The song? Madonna’s Vogue. Did I know what “Vogueing” was?? Nope. But I did win a free soda for being the only sober person dancing. That one goes under “courage”.

Believe me, there are many more. The list is pretty long.

And people wonder why I live a boring life 😉