Silver Lining Saturday, part XLVI

Greetings! And Happy Independence Day! Got a bit of felonious activity (illegal fireworking) going on outside my window, so pardon in advance if I have to suddenly take in a criminal or two seeking refuge in the case of a bust.

First of all, on this holiday, I am thankful to wake up in the U.S., given some of the alternatives.

We enjoyed a lovely hike today. It was cut a little short because of some ominous looking and rumbling cloudage. I'm not a big fan of being on top of a mountain when lightning comes to visit.

As it happened, however, once we'd made it back to our van, the nasty stuff had moved off in a different direction, but we still had an enjoyable time and took in some nice scenery. There were a few other hikers and mountain bikers enjoying the day, but not so many as to give it the tourist trappy feel. And with that acknowledgement, assume whatever you'd like regarding the "nice scenery" *wink*wink*.

Also, got rid of some junk this week. The next door neighbor is getting ready to sell her house (Nooooooo! Not the GOOD neightbor!!), and threw a garage sale yesterday. Chaco, Wolfgang, and Meego decided to get in on it and sold some of their crap.... er... previously enjoyed recreational items. I didn't sell anything, but it got me digging around anyway, and our donation box is once again ready for pickup.

Oh, and I did get in a good chick flick after this week of All-Transformers-All-The-Time. Ladies, I recommend "In Her Shoes". I'd never heard of it before and don't remember how it ended up on our Netflix queue, but I am so thankful it came to us in my time of need. Magnum even watched it with me and declared it good.

So, once again, Happy Independence Day! Be safe. Don't drink and drive. Don't hike around lightning. Don't get cocky with the Chinese explosives.

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post op

My only memory I have of it is of me sitting on the kitchen counter in my childhood home. My mom was there, and there seemed to be blood everywhere. I was wearing shorts and there were blood stains on my thighs. And the smell. I could smell the blood. Richly. Deeply. Both within and without my nose.

The story goes that I was just walking around minding my own business when an evil softball hit me in the face. I think I was about 3 years old.

Thankfully, I have absolutely no recollection of actually being smacked in the face. I imagine that it wouldn't be pleasant. But I just remember sitting there all bloody on the kitchen counter. I don't recall that I was crying. I was just sitting there, smeared about in my own blood, as Mom took care of things. That's what moms are for. Cleaning up blood and stuff.

Unless it's not that bad. Unless it was brought on by oneself.

Yesterday, I was at the stove stirring up some sloppy joes when Meego walked in with a concerned look on his face. I could tell something was up.

Yes. He had a tampon stuck up his nose.

Okay, so before your brains start creating these images of female hygeine products and strings dangling from the nostril and applicators washing up on the beaches, recall the definition of "tampon":

"Tampon: A tampon is a pack or pad used to plug, to stanch,

to stop the flow of blood or other fluids. The tampon may be

made of cotton, sponge, or another material. Tampons serve

in surgery to control bleeding. Likewise, with nosebleeds...."

And no, he didn't say, "Mom, I have a tampon stuck up my nose", I just thought I'd use actual medical terminology.

He'd gotten a bloody nose, took the appropriate action of shoving a tampon up the offending nostril, except he shoved it too far and left no extraction handle. Then, I'm guessing, in his attempts to remove it, he managed to only push it up further.

I decided that this was a teachable moment.

Since he wasn't just 3 years old, and since he hadn't been an innocent victim, and since he didn't have blood gushing, I basically told him that he'd made that bed, now go sleep in it. In other words, he should try to get it out himself. That would learn him to not do the no-extraction-handle again.

After much snorting and blowing and sneezing and whining, the tampon had not budged a whole lot. Finally, Chaco, being the control freak he is, took matters into his own hands. He took my tweezers - MY tweezers! The ones that keep me from being all unibrow! - and adeptly extracted the offensive tampon.

He went on to describe the extraction in much detail as we lost our appetites for sloppy joes.

I think Meego learned his lesson. As for Chaco, I think he could make a very skilled surgeon some day. If he wasn't such a techno-geek. And lazy.
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need reinforcements

Okay, so back when my friends with young daughters were having to go off to see Hannah Montana or Miley Cyrus or whoever she is... Back when I teased about the High School Musical marathons and then even High School Musical on Ice....

Payback time today.

Today, I functioned as the requisite Parental Guidance for Meego at a showing of Transformers 2: Revenge of the Fallen.

Was it any good, you ask? Heck if I know.

I just know that I SO need a chick flick now! Maybe I can get some sort of quick fix over at YouTube!

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another's treasure

I'm not sure how I did it, but somehow I managed to convince the kids to clean up their Man Cave. If I'm not mistaken, it had something to do with a powerful vacuum cleaner and threats to suck up anything that wasn't either too big or bolted down.

During the ensuing excavation, we discovered a zoo.

Not just any zoo, but a Playmobil DeLUXE zoo! We're talkin' vultures! We're talkin' tiger family! We're talkin' extra fencing! We're even talkin' zoo technician, complete with shovel and wheel barrow!

Have you any idea how ridiculously priced this stuff is?!?! (Note: We did not purchase this. It was a gift to Meego several years ago from my I-can-buy-love father-in-law).

Anyway, so the tote housing the zoo was unearthed from beneath layers of other misfit toys. I can't remember the last time the thing was even out in the fresh air. I told Meego that he could probably get a lot of cash for it. I could see the "CHA-CHING!" gears a-grinding in his brain.

But first, he'd have to set it up all pretty like so I could take a photo of it. That was the downfall

It's still there. Not wanting to sell Just Yet, on second thought...

What's in your closet?

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Silver Lining Saturday, part XLV

Here I sit on a beautiful Saturday morning. The birds are appropriately chirping... hear them?

Had an absolutely lovely bike ride this morning, and my legs are feeling a bit noodly at the moment, so polishing the silver linings seemed like a worthwhile thing to do.

Yesterday, Wolfgang and I were puttering about the house as Meego was playing out front with his communist friend. Suddenly, we heard much excitement from the two of them. A moment later, a UPS truck drove up, no doubt to deliver the lego set Meego had recently ordered. I'm thankful it arrived and I'm no longer dealing with the incessant anticipation of him waiting. Geesh, it was only about 4 days or so. UPS drivers are like Santa Claus around here. Only real. Personally, I have a beef with UPS regarding a package that "absolutely positively needed to be there overnight" but wasn't. This is silver lining saturday, however, so we won't go there.

Also in the "new stuff" category, I'm awaiting a call from the vision center. I needed a backup pair of glasses and ordered some a few days ago. They will have transition lenses. *emits restrained squeals of delight*

On that note, I also had an eye exam since my previous prescription was expired. (I still need to schedule that pap smear, but I went with the eye exam as the much lesser of two evils). I'm happy to say that at the ripe age of 44, I am still not in need of -yikes!- bifocals. Oh, the mere thought of them....

Yesterday, we had an exciting thunderstorm wreak havoc on our fair city and neighborhood. So exciting that it roused Meego, Wolfgang, and Chaco outside to experience nature's wrath.

I snapped this photo of them after the thing had passed. They're doing their you-call-this-a-storm?! walk back to the house after venturing out into the prior violence. I mainly took it because I had no picture of the week for this post, so lame as it is, it's all I've got. I think Wolfgang is saying, "Don't post that on facebook!" He never said anything about the blog. tee hee.

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angel

First, I remember wanting to be Cher. Later on came the try-to-emulate-Brooke-Sheilds years.

But really, deep down, what girl growing up in the 70's didn't want to be a Charlie's Angel?


They were smart and tough, yet hot and feminine at the same time. Yeah, when I grow up, I want to be a Charlie's Angel.

Okay, maybe not. But maybe I could at least be, maybe like a watergirl for Charlie's Angels?

Or no. Maybe if I tried reeeaaallly hard to clean myself up and do the hair right, maybe... just maybe....

Not Farrah, though. No way. She was waaaay out of my league. Not an option.

May she rest in peace.
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maybe it's just shy?

I've consulted my records, and my suspicions are true.

I'm overdue for the dreaded pap smear.

Okay, fellas. In case little red flags went off in your heads, signalling that things are about to go all TMI, you're absolutely right! Feel free to beat a hasty exit NOW!

Now, the "dreaded" pap smear hasn't always been the "dreaded" pap smear. It used to just be the pap smear. But it seems that somewhere between Chaco and Meego, my faithful uterus decided to get all tippy or "retroverted".

I would never have known of this shift had I not been informed of it the first time a doctor went looking.... and looking.... and looking.... and looking for my pap smear target cervix. Apparently the thing is quite elusive now.

So the "routine" pap smear has since become the "dreaded" pap smear. Oh, yes, they eventually DO find the thing and take the "dreaded" swab. But I've had these doctors make interesting comments as they spelunk around in search of treasure.

"Hmmmm.... I know those babies came out of SOMEwhere"

"Sorry if this feels like I'm trying to remove your teeth via this route"

"Really, I do these pap smears all the time!...heh"

(Just pick a spot on the ceiling and ride it out)

In her defense, my current doctor probably dreads my pap smear as much as I do. Makes me wonder. Other people rehash things at the end of the day. Lawyers talk about messy cases. Engineers ponder design problems. Moms fret over obnoxious behavior. Etc. I can see my doctor, sitting at her dinner table.

"Bitch of a pap smear today..."

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