not anymore

Yesterday was July 11, or 7/11.  Did you celebrate Slurpee Day?  No?  Understandable since Slurpee Day became another COVID-19 casualty. 

When our kids were young and willing to hang out with us for such things, we'd make it a point to do a bike ride to 7-11 on Slurpee Day.  We never made it in time for the free ones because those came in little 7.11 oz. cups, and the store would run out quickly. 

           

Just as well because those freebie Slurpee shots would not do on a mid-July bike ride.  We were there for the full strength.

I don't remember when the last Slurpee ride was, it's been quite a few years, but I saw a headline yesterday that it wasn't happening this year - social distance precautions and all that. 

I used to think it was kind of strange the way people would flock to 7-11 for 7.11 ounces of free Slurpee, but I guess it was a big enough deal to make its cancellation a news story.

In other COVID news (as if you don't have enough), I came across this graphic today.  

SOURCE

Honestly, I didn't dig around to verify the data behind the graphic, but if it's true... time to build a moat, Colorado?

Keep washin' yo hands!

she said I was boring, then told me I should stick it where the sun don't shine

I had a "well woman check" yesterday.  It's just another hoop to jump through for Magnum's employer's health incentive program.  We got money for me having a well woman check.

"Well woman" strikes me as an odd term.  Sounds like a character in a Cecil B. Demille movie:

      The well woman was portrayed by Abby Normal
      *publicy photo of me in ragged dress, holding a roped bucket*

My doctor's appointment wasn't nearly as dramatic.  In fact, Dr. told me I was boring.

"I don't see you for two years and you're as boring as the last time!"

I told her I would try to keep it that way.

Anyway, she's quite friendly and laid back.  I think this was only my second appointment with her as she replaced my previous doctor who was also quite friendly and laid back.  So we're going through the various well woman pokes and prods (pick a spot on the ceiling... pick a spot on the ceiling... pick a spot on the...), and she's talking about her daughters and the recent vacation they all took, and next thing I  know, she starts throwing around the dreaded "colonoscopy".

Wait, what?  We were having such a nice visit.
Another perk of turning 50.  Pfffft.

Meanwhile, as I was sitting in the waiting area, I couldn't help but notice the office aquarium.  In addition to other varieties, it is home to three fish that are the same breed as my monsters.  Except the doctor's office fish seem typical as publicized.

"...a South American fish that will make a great addition to any community aquarium..."

HA!  Very funny, not.  Tell that to my large deceased community!

My two monsters continue to thrive in the Tank of Death.  They've even tried to kill the scuba diver/treasure hunter by removing his air hose.  But really, the diver was already suffocated by the copious amounts of algae that have consumed him since the monster fish killed every algae-eating plecostomus I've invited over.

See them here?  Just behind my shoulder?

EVIL!

I continue to care for and feed them as they are totally dependent on me for such maintenance.  But dang, these fish just won't die!  I swear, I think they've lived longer than any fish I've had.

I guess there's something to be said for ruthlessness. If I become ruthless, can I skip the colonoscopy?

.

a bit of an oversight

We were headed home, just another nice day on the path.

Just as we were about to climb an extra steep portion, I felt a *pop*, more of a *jam* really.  All I know is that it was totally immobilizing and I wasn't able to barely move anymore.  In excrutiating pain, I pulled over to the side.  

Still, I didn't think it was that bad.  Maybe if I just sat for a bit and collected myself, we'd be back in business soon.  But the more I sat and tried to work out the kink, the more it became apparent that I might need some first aid.

As I sat there, a bit frustrated and embarrassed, a smooth running, fit male appeared on the path and pulled over.  My first thought was, "Oh sh*t, I'm filthy and in a sorry state.  Please, just keep going".

But no, he offered to help.  HE had a little first aid kit with him.  As he produced it from a little pack, I realized that it looked much like the kit at home sitting on our shelf.  A lot of good that was doing us!

In the end, he had what I needed.  But the whole process of examining the problem and taking steps to mend it enough for me to make it home only served to highlight what a sorry state I was in.  

I hadn't bathed in a while, parts of me were loose that should've been tight, parts of me were tight that should've been loose.  There were flecks of dirt, old and new, adorning my whole body.  As thankful as I was for the assistance, it was all a bit  humiliating.

At least it wasn't all lost on Abby.  After all, it was HER fault.

Soon after we arrived and limped into the house, she gave me a warm bath, all the while whispering little apologies.  Then she left me behind in my repose - how ironic - to get some personal care items for me.

She returned and gave me a little home TLC.  It wasn't quite as nice and thorough as the annual spa treatments she schedules, but I felt SO much better afterward.  Too bad I had to break down on the path for her to get her rear in gear.

About frickin' time!









------------------------------------------------------------

Note to self:  I need to do more for Bella than just take her in for annual tune-ups if I want to avoid her being publicly humiliated and throwing shade at me on the internet.

.

Silver Liningness Sunday

Happy first weekend of officially summer!  Gosh, the days feel so much shorter now.

Another fine week was had.  First of all, Meego FINALLY agreed to let me cut his hair.  Afterwards, he actually confessed to liking it.

    

We'll see if it adversely affects his guitar-playing.

Also, I FINALLY went to the "squishy place" this week.  Recall that I got a bit of a nasty-gram from my doctor a while back because I hadn't gone in for that mammogram she'd ordered several months ago.  Well, I got another nasty-gram a couple of weeks ago because I still hadn't gone.  Fine.  Now it's done, so hopefully the mail stops.  I have to admit, the place is very efficient as far as most medical places go.  Get in, get squished, get out.

We watched Catching Fire this week.  I'd never read the book after reading the first Hunger Games.  It's not that I think the story/writing bad, just the opposite really.  I find the whole premise so disturbing.  Magnum says I'm supposed to find it disturbing, and I DO.  Anyway, I was glad I hadn't read the book because the big reveal at the end totally threw me.

And in general, it's just been a pretty productive week.  I'm switching programs at the university - that's a whole 'nother story.  My application for the new program was accepted, and I'm looking forward to getting going in the fall.

I'm slowly getting to know my new PEO sisters, and they're a fun bunch.  We had a meeting this week at the Colorado chapter house - I think there are only 3 chapter houses in the country - which I'd never been to.  Nice setting.  AND, we're making inroads into the mainstream!  Broke into Jeopardy last week.  "I'll take initials for 600 please, Alex!" (actually, I know neither the category nor the dollar amount, I just got the screen shot in my e-mail).

Anyone?  (Not you, Judy)

busted!

A friend of mine shared this photo she took today.  These mountains have some relevance to my blog post, so I include the cultural piece.

           The Spanish Peaks are a pair of prominent mountains located in southwestern 

           Huerfano County, Colorado. The Ute Indians named them Huajatolla 

              (pronounced Wa-ha-toy-a), meaning "two breasts". The Ute name translates as 

              "Breasts of the Earth"

Anyway, these beloved boob mountains are near my hometown and are a familiar landmark.  I visited my facebook feed, and there they were.  I'll take it as a sign.  A summons.

Yesterday, I came home and grabbed the mail.  Included was an envelope from my doctor's office.  Recall that I met my new(ish) doctor a few months ago.  I'm not a regular enough patient to know why my previous doctor left, and while I am a bit curious, I'm okay with not being a familiar enough patient to know.  

Anyway, so I finally got around to meeting her when I went for my checkup.  I like her, she's friendly and thorough and accessible.   But I couldn't figure out why I'd be getting mail from the office.  So I opened it to find that I've been busted.  Pun intended?

Dear Abby (got a ring to it, no?),

It has come to our attention that Dr. Hooburtz (not her real name) previously ordered the following procedure for you and it has not been completed.  Please call the phone nmber provided to have it scheduled...

Yikes, really?!?  Busted by the mammogram NSA!

They're watching?  My other doctor didn't watch, because I totally slacked the mammogram when she ordered it too, so I know!  But I got to it.  EVENTUALLY! 

Okay, I guess I'd better call.  I mean, if she can know these things and even invoke the spirit of the Huajatollas, that's pretty powerful.  

*gasp* I feel so exposed!  

.

Silver Liningness Sunday

I wrote a paper for school earlier today, and I guess my brain registered it as my silver liningness post for today.  Be thankful it wasn't, you'da been bored to tears!  AND I've managed to do a brain override and get my silver liningness post in afterall.

Meego had the day off on Monday for President's Day.  He celebrated by puncturing his hand with a piece of fence post.

The way I understand it, he was playing tag with the other street urchins when he went to scale a fence a la parkour?  But i guess there was a big old piece of wood sticking out of the thing he grabbed, and the big old piece of wood went into his hand.

He came inside to wash it off and showed me where it went in.  Then he turned his hand over and showed me where it went out the other side.  Eew!

Really not that bad though.  I patched him up, and he was sort of the one-handed boy for a couple of days, but none the worse for wear after that.  In fact, I was going to post gory pics here, but it's just not gory enough anymore to make an impact.

And Magnum took the opportunity to remind me that I am way overdue for a tetanus shot.

I still am, by the way.




Also this week, we had an appointment with the Heavenly Orthodontist.  It's time for the braces to commence bracing.  They gave him this for motivation.


So now he's totally thrilled.  Not.











But enough about Meego, this is MY blog!

School continues, I'm enjoying my classes and classmates, and I haven't been kicked out yet.  Also, this was another P.E.O. week and I'm grateful to have found a good group of sistahs.  All these weeks floating along as the beloved newbie guest are soon to be a thing of the past, though, as I sense they are about to put me to work.

In movie news, Magnum and I watched Let the Right One In.  It's creepy.  I think it was well-done for what the producers set out to do, and there were things about it that I liked.  But I was kinda creeped out afterwards and so have mixed reviews.

But go ahead and [click this link] and watch the trailer!  I DARE YOU!!

.
.

right from the get go

First of all, for Mrs. Cranky Pants (and for "selfie" being The Word for 2013):

Back

Side

Front

Yes, that's a tattoo on my right arm.  I explained its conception a bit [here].

As I recall, the tattoo actually came into existence in January of 2010, don't remember the specific day.  But I guess it seemed like a good time for a renewal, or reawakening, or such.  I'm pretty sure, though, that I didn't make a New Year's Resolution to get tattooed.

And no, it didn't really hurt much.  I guess the upper arm isn't all that sensitive.  The tattoo rule of thumb is, "the better it feels to be kissed there, the more it hurts to be tattooed there", so go ahead and think about that...

One thing I DO remember about that day, however, was swinging by the local Walfarts on the way home to pick up the specific lotion my tattoo guy recommended for proper tattoo healage.

As I was pulling into the parking lot, I saw a bunch of police cars near one of the entrances.  During my drive over there, the radio announcer said that there was something going down at that particular Walfarts, and he'd fill us in as more details came in.

So there I was, fresh on the scene.  Apparently, what happened was some crazy walfart shopper set off the stolen-stuff alarm when he was exiting the store.  When he was confronted by the elderly greeter, he whipped out a gun *GASP* and actually fired a round into the ceiling *GEEZ!*

So I'm learning all of this as I'm pulling into the parking lot, fresh from the tattoo studio.  I'm all stay-at-home-mom from white collar suburbia still getting used to the idea that I even HAVE a tattoo guy, still fresh from the tattoo place, that things go all La Vida Loca!

It's been a wild ride ever since too.  Except when it hasn't.

.

after the before

Okay, so remember a while back I blogged about my itchy, puffy, irritated eye skin?  The itching!  The burning!  The puffing!

And then I blogged about how it improved with some Burt's Bees, so I'd written it off as exposure to wind and cold temperatures?

Fact is, the problem is still plaguing me, I've just been managing it.  I need to keep the eye skin moisturized with ointment, clean it off 2 or 3 times a day and put on more ointment, make sure not to get any ointment on my actual eyeballs or else the puffies really take hold...  Add that the "condition" makes the lines around my eyes deeper than usual - like I need THAT!

Anyways, this was my miserable self last Saturday.  My eyes were SO irritated, all I could think to do was take a pitiful selfie:

complete with forehead zit

I had slacked on my management duties.

I began to wonder if maybe I was having an allergic reaction.  After all, it feels like I've been motorboating some latex boobs.  Not that I've ever motorboated ANY boobs - and don't ask me how I know I have an allergy to latex - it's just what I imagine would happen if I were to do such latex boob motorboating.

So, in my desperate, pitiful state, I decided to begin an elimination diet.  I would start by eliminating certain common allergen foods and see if doing so made any difference.  I've begun with peanuts since peanuts are a common allergen, and I eat more than my fair share.  

Really, peanuts are everywhere!  In my peanut butter, in my snack bars, in my trail mix.  I've never had an allergy problem with them before, but maybe I've developed one in my old age.  Like the latex thing *ahem*.  

So, I think it was Saturday afternoon, I ate my last peanut.

Here's a few minutes ago.  

Yah, I've since had a haircut (zit remains)

Better?  Actually, blogger is somehow helping me out with the smoothing, because the photo I took doesn't look as smooth on my computer, but I'm going with this...  But STILL, the original "after" is better than the pitiful "before".  

Honestly, though, I don't think it's the peanut-free living.  I can feel the itchy-puffy-irritated potential just beneath the calm surface, ready to burst forth.  I've just been more attentive to managing it these last few days.  

But I guess I'll keep up the experiment for a while longer and see if real improvement happens.  It's not like I'm missing peanuts or anything.  

(Just keep telling myself that).

.

wisdom of youth

Our family dentist is a hoot.  If I were to meet him somewhere outside of dentistry, I doubt I would guess that as his profession.  I know that there are several hoops to jump through just to get IN to dental school, then one must get THROUGH it.  The dentists I've known before, while friendly, have been rather serious types.

But our current dentist is Extrovert with capital "E", fast talking about nearly everything under the sun.  A little over a year ago, he was giving me a crown.  Just before he popped the thing into my head and sealed it there for all time eternal, he dropped it on the floor!  Utilizing the 5-second rule, he quickly plopped it into some sort of solution and affirmed, "Don't worry, this stuff kills everything known to man, I'm surprised it's even legal!", in his characteristically entertaining way.

I've never had troubles with that crown.  I guess there was nothing unknown to man on that procedure room floor.

I've gotten used to his goofiness and find it refreshing in a dentist, because he's also shown himself to be quite competent.  I just have to listen carefully since he talks so fast and so much.  Last summer, he was telling me about his reactions while watching the latest Batman movie and asking me about my shoes when, somewhere in the middle of all that, he recommended that Chaco get his wisdom teeth pulled very soon.

Oh... what?  Dental stuff??

We didn't get around to the wisdom teeth extraction in time for the start of classes, so one of the "bucket list" items for winter break is to get 'er done .  This morning, Chaco and I spent about an hour at the oral and maxillofacial place doing consultation and consent stuff.

As is usual, a portion of that time was spent just waiting.  I decided the view out the window was nice so captured it here.


Find The Element?


I suppose the mountains were pretty too, burn scar and all.






I've never had my wisdom teeth removed.  It seems to be nearly a rite of passage for the college-aged, but I'm keeping mine!  I need all the wisdom I can get.
.

for Anita

Recently, Anita, in another thought provoking blog post, brought up the topic of embarrassment and candidly recounted a few of her own embarrassing moments.  I've noticed that, as I've gotten older, I don't embarrass as easily as I used to.  That said, whenever anyone brings up the topic of embarrassing moments, one such moment always stands out.  I told Anita that I was too embarrased to reveal it on her blog.  I will attempt to do it here...

This "moment" occurred several years ago.  Chaco was a toddler, Wolfgang was pretty much brand new, Meego was still floating around in the whole time-space continuum.  I vividly remember the kids' ages precisely because of what happened.

Magnum and I had gone out and ordered us a new mattress and box spring.  It was to be delivered by the mattress store, and as is customary, the old mattress would be hauled away.  So the time came and these two big burly guys showed up with the new stuff.  Step one was to remove the old stuff. 

I remember it was early evening.  I had just finished nursing newbie Wolfgang, and was cuddling him as I led the burly bed boys upstairs to the bedroom. 

Okay, so I've got this just-a-few-weeks-old infant.  Now ladies (and guys probably), you remember what the doctor said about having ______ in the few weeks after giving birth?  About how your ______, if that is your preferred _______ control method of choice, doesn't really fit the same anymore?  Since the ________ was our preferred  __________ control method of choice, and I hadn't yet gotten to the point of being fitted for a new _______, Magnum and I used ________.

Anyway, back to the bedroom.  There we were - Magnum, me, baby Wolfgang - Chaco was probably around somewhere eating paint chips or something.  The burly bed boys go to move the old mattress and out flutters a bright red ________ wrapper.

I was mortified.

Magnun was not.  In fact, I think he and the bed boys had a bit of a male bonding moment in those few seconds of words-not-necessary. 

All ended up fine.  We got the new mattress installed.  The old one was removed.  Somewhere in the fray the ______ wrapper was disposed of.  I never saw those guys again.

I hope.

Your turn :)
.

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..."

.

the visit

Long ago, I adapted to the FACT that once one has children, one can forget about privacy in the bathroom.

Living in a house full of males, I try to maintain at least a modicum of privacy both for my sake and for theirs, particularly now that the kids are getting older. Still, it's not uncommon for any of them to just go willy nilly (pun intended) about their business without bothering to shut the door... shutting it would just be for my sake anyway. At least they're content to wait until I've left the area and no longer just whip it out while I'm, say, brushing or flossing. So that's a start.

At least the days of them following my every move about the house are in the past, but I too can be a bit negligent.

Today, I was innocently shaving my legs. Something I do a couple of times per week to keep the Bigfoot conspirators at bay. I've done this forever - since about the time I realized that women in this country aren't culturally hairy. So it's safe to say that my kids have witnessed me shaving my legs nearly as often as they've witnessed Magnum shaving his face.

So I'm in the bathroom, one foot in the sink, scraping away on a leg, when in walks Meego.

And a friend.

Granted, I was wearing a pair of shorts (just shaving LEGS here folks!), but it was just the act... the intimacy... of leg shaving that made this feel *ahem* AWKWARD.

This friend is at our house quite often and is a bit of a communist. I don't necessarily mean that he has communist political views per se, but rather that he lives the communist lifestyle of "what's yours is mine", and often just wanders about the house like a 6th resident. I'm pretty okay with that as long as he remembers to remove his shoes (it's a Filipino thing).

He's 11 years old. He's seen me exercising, he's seen me getting ready for work, he's seen me folding laundry - including the unmentionables....

He's never been in the bathroom at the same time as me, however.

I just stopped what I was doing, wiped off the leg and took the foot out of the sink. For some reason, it seemed more appropriate to have both feet on the floor. Meego was totally indifferent to the whole thing, and from what I could tell, the same was true for the communist friend. They had come in to assess the size of the bathtub in regards to a Lego boat they had just built.

At least I wasn't in the tub. That may have caused a stir.
.

what's a girl to do

So we found ourselves at IT'Z last weekend. A good place to kill a few hours of "family entertainment fun". At some point, I decided to use the facilities.

Sorry if this sounds like it's getting to be a bit TMI, but trust me, this is essential to the story. (Gosh, I'm becoming like Jerry)

So anyway, I entered the lovely restroom area and chose a stall. But, AHA! Ever-so-alert me noticed that there was no TP in the particular stall I'd chosen. No, the public bathroom gods would not have the last laugh this time!

I adeptly switched to a well stocked stall, thinking myself so in-the-know. But I learned something at that point. I learned that some of the IT'Z bathroom stalls are furnished with these itty bitty potty training sized toilets plumbed right in with the regular sized versions. Yes, I had chosen such a stall.

Now, I'm not saying that this toilet was a bit smaller, like it was for petite women or something. No no no no. This was a teeny tiny potty-training-sized toilet, giving new meaning to the term "little girls' room".

I contemplated a moment. There were others entering the bathroom. I had already changed stalls once. What were the odds of me finding a stall that was both stocked with supplies AND adult sized? Not very good, I deduced.

So I just sighed and went for it. As I took care of things while resting my teeth on my knees, I couldn't help but notice that my little playhouse bathroom stall was equipped with a handy little "sanitary products" disposal unit, like those of regular bathroom stalls. How ironic. What was THAT doing in there?

Anyway, let this serve as a public service. I can't vouch for the "little boys' room", but ladies, just be aware.
.

toyz

So I needed a new toothbrush. Except, until today, I had no idea just how much I NEEDED a new toothbrush.

I was out with the kids (spring break has begun) doing a bit of grocery shopping, and I went to get myself the new toothbrush in the toothbrush aisle. I'm not picky about toothbrushes. Just give me a full head with soft bristles and I'm good. I grabbed one that was on sale and chucked it into the cart and continued on my way.

"Why is the handle so fat?", Chaco asked.

"I dunno", I informly informed him.

"Oh, it's a Sonic Power toothbrush", Wolfgang noticed.

"Wha-?", I responded cluelessly.

He showed me the little button that made the toothbrush vibrate, and it buzzed happily inside its plastic compartment.

"Oh, sheesh, I didn't mean to get that one", I said and looked back to the wall o' brushes. Still, though, it was on sale and cheaper than the non-vibrating toothbrushes, so I just decided to get it and not push the little button.

But back in the privacy of my home...I got a little.... curious.

I loaded it up. I pushed the button. And I brushed. Oh GAWD how I brushed!! I think I could've brushed the afternoon away. Now I'm here, in the afterglow, teeth all a-tingly.

Ladies, for the love of all that vibrates, get yourselves a vibrating toothbrush! Or better yet, get multiple!
.