My dog revealed (and Book Blurb Friday!)

This is Uno

Well, as promised, here is what my dog looks like now-notice the rather large shaggy head and small shaved body? When he runs the hair is in his eyes and he reminds me of animal from the Muppets (minus the red hair and chains, but still somewhat wild...)I'd like to say that I'm getting used to it, but I do miss his scruffy look. They say if you massage a baby's bald head it stimulates the hair follicles and their hair grows faster-I wonder if this is the same for dogs? Hmm... I would like to even up the hair on his head a touch, but every time I go for the clippers the dog runs and hides, so I'll just leave it.

This is Uno all fuzzy...

Boy, I'm glad it's

 Book Blurb Friday! This is where Lisa Ricard Claro, from Writing in the Buff, posts a picture meant to serve as a fictional book cover.

It's your job to write a blurb about the book in 150 words or less to entice a prospective reader. Are you up to the challenge?
Here is this week's picture and my story:

When the World Ended...

Lana never took much interest in her classes, or school in general, preferring instead to daydream about life after her prison term, more commonly known as high school. And when a class lecture turned into speculation about how the world would end, she vaguely remembers hearing her teacher drone on about how everything would end in fire, with nations battling it out over land and personal beliefs-just one man, pushing a button to send nuclear warheads into another country’s backyard. At least she thinks that’s what she heard, before the lights went out…

There were no rockets, or battling nations, only man’s disregard that brought about the end. The sun simply burned itself out, and the planet was entering into a second ice age. Lana and her classmates now face an uncertain future-stay on a dying planet or leave, and this decision will alter their lives forever. (147 words)

I usually get this posted Thursday night, but my husband is trying to teach me how to play chess and it took him a lot longer than he thought it would to take my king. (We decided to end in a draw, although if he hadn't shaken his head on some of my moves, the game would have been over a lot sooner...) I will stop on by to see what everyone else did later tonight.

A New Outlook (and Book Blurb Friday!)

Well I had wanted to post a few pictures of our weekend, but time sort of got away from me this week.  Let's just say that the positives are now outweighing the negatives, and I thought I would list them quickly:

1. My daughter recovered from her stomach bug in 24 hours, which leads me to believe that it might have been a case of food poisoning. (My sister-in-law's a nurse, and she said that food poisoning comes on fast-about 1 to 2 hours after eating-and usually clears up in less than 24 hours. Stomach viruses do not.) We had stopped at a McDonald's on the way home (oh, how I hate fast food!) and there might be a link.

2. I never did get sick which also has me thinking it was the reason I mentioned above.

3. My son had his face looked at yesterday, and the lab showed that it was indeed a ruptured cyst. He was also given the okay to go swimming, and this was on our agenda for this weekend!

4. Finals are drawing to a close, and I have a good start on getting the grading finished. (Now cleaning my room for over the summer is another story...)

5. My daughter hasn't quit gymnastics, at least not yet, and seems to have a renewed sense of spirit after practice today-she has super coaches, so I'm guessing they have something to do with it.

Well, that's it for now, so on to Book Blurb Friday. This is where Lisa Ricard Claro, from Writing in the Buff, posts a picture meant to serve as a fictional book cover.

It's your job to write a blurb about the book in 150 words or less to entice a prospective reader. Are you up to the challenge?
Here is this week's picture and my story:

Windows Never Lie

A woman disappears without a trace, and does so from an apartment directly across from police? The girl’s parents call on the force’s best man, Detective Gerard Boucher, but even he is baffled.

Camille was a young starlet capturing everyone’s heart in her first major picture, “Cry Before Dawn”, and she was enjoying all the benefits of being associated with a widely acclaimed film. Her agent, Hampshire Smith, recently helped her acquire a flat in Paris, chosen because it was near popular nightspots and security.

Hampshire reported Camille missing when she didn’t show up for an interview. When he investigated, he found her flat unlocked and no sign of her anywhere.

Detective Boucher didn’t know why, but the apartment’s balcony and Camille’s neglected geraniums fascinated him-was there a connection? But as he was staring at the flower yet again, he saw someone watching from the window across the street… (149 on the dot-hard tonight!)

Well, I've been having so much fun that I've lost track of time. I'll be by tomorrow to see what you see!

Almost worry free (and Book Blurb Friday)

Our house is back to normal again, or at least I'm not worrying as much as I was about my son. I didn't mention it but a small white mark on my son's face that appeared a year ago (the doctor wasn't sure what it was but said just to watch it) became enlarged almost overnight.

My husband and I thought that it looked bigger, then we were sure it was, and then my son was complaining that it hurt. The pediatrician said that it needed to be looked at by a plastic surgeon, but the practice she recommended said they couldn't see us until the end of June!  Meanwhile, this thing got bigger and now redder and another visit to the doctor finally got us seen by a plastic surgeon a couple weeks ago.

The surgeon was sure it was a cyst that got infected, but he couldn't operate until the infection was taken care of first, so my son walked around with a giant bandaid on his face for another ten days until the swelling and redness subsided, and he was operated on Wednesday morning. (They had to put him to sleep and I was worried sick, but all went well and his face, even with the small bandage and stitches, looks so much better!)  Did I mention that we are heading to New Jersey for my daughter's state meet this weekend?  What timing, huh?

But I come into tonight's Book Blurb Friday feeling pretty good. This is where Lisa Ricard Claro, from Writing in the Buff, posts a picture meant to serve as a fictional book cover.

 It's your job to write a blurb about the book in 150 words or less to entice a prospective reader. Are you up to the challenge?
Here is this week's picture and my story:

Mystery Man at Boulder Lodge

The weather reports promised plenty of snow for Kathy’s ski vacation, but the trip was for singles, and Kathy’s sister had made the reservation-without asking. Still, a weeklong stay at a luxurious ski lodge didn’t seem like such a sacrifice, so she agreed to go.

An avid skier, Kathy checked into Boulder Lodge and lost no time hitting the slopes…or another skier. She hadn’t seen Paul pick himself up from a nasty fall until it was too late, and he would end up back in the snow again.

The pair hit it off immediately, (almost literally) and spent the rest of the day together, but Paul said he had an important appointment elsewhere that evening, and subsequent evenings, and he always returned at daybreak.

Was Paul married? Kathy decides to find out before things get serious, but maybe knowing everything isn’t always a good thing… (146 words without the title.)

I was first thinking I would take this story to the dark side, but I mentioned it to my husband and he wondered why I couldn't do a "nice" story. So, I thought about it, started writing, and I ended up with a story that could go either way. But, it's after 11 and morning comes quickly, so I'll stop by your blogs tomorrow!

Rush! (And Succinctly Yours)

I hope everyone had a nice weekend. I wish I could hold onto mine just a little longer because I don't think I got to really relax at all-I was running non-stop on Saturday from 11-4 (my van and I are now one), and today we were part of a carpool to a birthday party, and then it was catch-up time for chores around the house.

The next couple of weeks are going to be worse with a flurry of activities and deadlines at home and work, and I'm going to be a basket-case! We will be in Wildwood, NJ Saturday through Monday for gymnastics regionals, the students in my classes are finishing up final projects and then we start preparing for written finals, and for some reason my husband and I got conned into an end of the school year party for my son the first weekend in June!

It's going to be crazy around here...But am I the only one feeling like this? What's going on at your house as you head into summer?

Thankfully writing relaxes me, body and soul, and it's time for Succinctly Yours, another writing meme that piggy backs on the idea of Susan of the Stony River Blog. Grandma Goulash posts a picture and you are to write a 140 character or word story about it. You can also use the word of the day in your post if you wish. This week's word is kink. Here it the picture and my story:

Mary’s internal struggle was intense-she was attracted to the Duke, but the man was a known philanderer, and her heart was worth protecting. (140 on the dot!)

Well, I have a load of wash to finish up before bed, but I can't wait to see your takes on the picture!

A New Perspective

I’m feeling a bit wishy-washy these days because I want things that are totally opposite. Since my kids are getting older I’m trying to carve a little time in the day just for me-I’m not asking for hours here, just minutes where I can pursue activities that interest just me. I sometimes think about all the things I do for them now that I won’t have to do when their older, like make their breakfast and lunch, do their laundry, supervise all bathing/teeth brushing/hair combing, and help them clean their rooms (this one always stumps me-if they can mess it up, why does it take mom or dad’s assistance to clean things up?) I am rarely ALONE!

Then, if by chance I do get a few precious minutes, I start to feel like I’m missing something-that if I don’t stop what I’m doing and connect with my kids their childhood years will just fly by and I will have missed them. I’m already experiencing the twangs of separation with some of my kids changing habits. A year ago, my son would always give me a hug and a kiss at bedtime, and we would go through the same ritual every night:

"Goodnight Mom."
"Goodnight Buster Brown."
"I love you."
"I love you too."
"See you in the morning."
"I’ll see you in the morning."

Now that little ritual is gone, and although I still give him a kiss, I guess I have cooties, because there are cries of “Yuck!” as he tries to wipe his cheek. I still get a hug, and he always hugs me before I leave in the morning, but how long will this last?

My daughter is physically connected to her electronic devices, and spending more and more time in her room. I’ve had to establish times when devices are off and although I can usually coax her to help me make dinner or bake, gone are the days when she followed me around telling me about her day. (The girl is a virtual vault these days, and I only know something is bothering her when that mouth of hers starts working over time…)

I’m constantly stretched in different directions-grow up, don’t grow up, please grow up, please don't grow up-but now I know what alone feels like. My husband’s grandmother died Saturday night, and since I don’t get bereavement unless it’s someone in my immediate family, my husband took the kids and headed five hours away to my in-laws house. I got what I’ve always wanted-plenty of kid free me time, and I hate it! I didn’t make dinner since it was just me (I had an egg sandwich and fruit), and I can’t seem to be able to sit in one spot (I finally managed to plant myself in front of the computer to type this, and even then I didn’t feel like doing too much.)I've texted my daughter all evening (the most we've talked in a while) and both my kids sounded so small when I talked to them on the phone tonight...

I’m so worried about their drive back tomorrow and about how the kids are handling their first funeral that I can hardly keep my eyes open-and after dealing with teenagers all day, I'm emotionally drained. So that being said, I’m heading to bed knowing I better be careful what I wish for…

Aging and Oddities: A losing battle?

It’s been ages since I did a truly personal post and that’s because I’m struggling with the direction I want my blog to take. I started a blog to get back into writing, share common experiences, and give helpful feedback concerning goods and services that you as a mother might be interested in.

At first things started slowly, and I kept things strictly business-like with reviews of my favorite vacation destination-Cape May, New Jersey. Then I bounced between day-to-day issues about being a mom and an occasional review. Then when we all headed back to school (me included) I didn’t have the time to be posting every night, and my interest in blogging waned.

Then something sparked my interest again, and that was a writing meme, and I was so excited that my posts became this and nothing more, so I decided to step back and think about what purpose I want my blog to serve. I decided on this plan of action-Sundays/Mondays I am reserving for the writing meme (writing the post and reading other member entries), Wednesday I will try to hop over to read updates on all of your blogs, Thursday will be my "personal" entry (anything from my life could end up here), and Saturday I will set aside for a review post (technology, books, etc.)

So that’s the plan, and since it’s Thursday I thought I would catch you up to speed with what’s been going round my head lately. Some of you may remember that I celebrated my birthday in December and it was a milestone birthday- one where you feel both excitement and dread at the same time, especially when you glance at all the candles covering your birthday cake! After blowing those candles out, I have come to realize something about aging. I am convinced that aging and personal oddities go hand in hand!

Let me explain. Everyone has their own sets of likes and dislikes and idiosyncrasies ("quirks"), and as I get older, I notice that mine have doubled, maybe even tripled in number. I’ve listed some of my old habits along with my new habits-see if you can identify with any of these (and I am really hoping you do!):

Then: I never liked getting my hands dirty.
Now: Hand washing has become a compulsion, and having kids hasn’t helped-something yucky was always coming out of them, at the top or the bottom!
Now: I can’t stand for my hands to be sticky or wet either, and I have to drop everything and wash them off. And speaking of wet, I literally can’t stand if my sleeves get wet. It’s like I get this sickening feeling in my gut when water drips down my sleeves and down my arm…

Then: I always wear socks on my feet because when my feet are cold, my whole body gets cold.
Now: I rarely walk around anywhere, even on the beach, without something on my feet. In fact, while my kids and husband run around the house in bare feet, I sit here with both shoes and socks on!

Then: I reach for the magazine at the back of the rack because it’s crisper and less smudgy.
Now: I don’t take the first of anything in a rack or shelf-books, cards, clothing, etc, and I can’t stand for someone to wrinkle up the newspaper before I have read it. And don’t let me go on about reading my magazine before I do either! (I think this one might be genetic because I remember my father having a fit if we went through his paper before he did.)

Now: I disagree that this is a bizarre habit, but my husband says that I just started doing this a couple months ago and it’s weird (in his opinion of course.) If we use a regular plate as a serving dish, I put these in the sink to wash instead of putting it in the dishwasher, although I don’t see anything wrong with this…

Well, I know there are others, but I'm getting tired and I don't want you to think I'm a total crack pot.  Tell me, am I alone, or do you see yourself doing odd things too?  Well, I have to go wash my hands and head to bed, so goodnight everybody!

Happy birthday to me...

Christmas Eve is very different for me-not only is it the last day before all the hoopla of the Christmas holiday, but it’s also my birthday. Over the years I’ve learned to live with it, but when I was little and trying to plan a birthday party, I had to worry about snowstorms and people canceling due to family holiday plans. I don’t have to worry about that now, but my birthdays are either fantastic or just one of those days, and there is no predicting how they will turn out.

Today turned out to be one of those humdrum birthdays, although things started out promising. My husband let me sleep in (it was glorious!) but things turned sour pretty quickly after a phone call from my mother. She wished me a happy birthday then we talked for a little bit about my plans for the holiday.

First some background knowledge. We don’t live near family-my parents and sisters are around 4 ½ hours away, and my husband’s family is about 5 hours away, so we celebrate Christmas with our kids at home and travel between the two families a few days later. Because my sisters and I are not close (and never have been due to someone always getting upset with someone else about something), the time spent at my parents house has dwindled down to only one day-my nerves can’t take much more than this. Unfortunately I have usually been the one someone was mad at (and I do admit that I am not entirely without fault in these situations), but it happens every time all of us get together (it’s funny because a one-on-one visit always goes well…) This year, despite my mother’s objections, I decided not to partake in all the drama of a group visit, and asked my mother if the visit could just be with my older sister and the grandparents (my older sister and I get along the best.)

Now how I was going to pull this off I didn’t know, but since I talk to my two younger sisters once in a blue moon, I didn’t think it would be a problem, that is until my mother started scheming ways in which my sisters would innocently pop over the house. My mother kind of let things slip when she was talking to me this morning, and I nearly went ballistic. I mean, I just want the kids to be able to visit with their grandparents alone without the other grandkids there and without all the arguing that always follows-it’s not even Christmas and I’m already arguing with my mother! Why should my kids have to witness this? And this whole affair bothers my mother more than anyone-my youngest sister and her husband said it would be fine with them-I think they don’t mind skipping what has become a custom either. I feel badly about arguing with my mother, but she never really listens to me-and believe me when I say that this has been going on my whole life.

From there things sort of nose dived-my kids weren’t listening to me, my husband had a headache and nausea, and I sat alone staring at my Christmas lights. My husband did pull through by late afternoon, and he did his best to salvage what was left of my day with dinner out. My kids started arguing at the table (even threats to my youngest about Santa watching did no good) and my response was, um, to laugh. I started laughing, saying in between guffaws, that this year’s birthday really stinks and then my husband started laughing! Oh well, thank goodness for my odd sense of humor, and thanks to a few of you bloggers out there who corresponded with me today (MOTPG, Nichol), and a very happy birthday to Laurie! Thanks for letting me vent-I'm off to watch The Christmas story. I hope you all have a wonderful, "pain-free" Christmas!

Rumble at the choral concert

I finally feel calm enough to write about the "incident" I have been referring to in my past couple posts, plus, most of my friends and co-workers have helped ease my conscience considerably (they're telling me that I am not an evil person.) I am going to try to keep this short, but we shall see…

Last Wednesday was my daughter’s 6th grade choral concert (I found out Monday that her black shoes were too tight and her black Capri pants were a little too short but that’s another story entirely.)

Anyway, we were all dressed and ready to go about 45 minutes ahead of schedule, which is rare, so we thought we should take advantage of this and get to the school early. (The choral concert also includes the band and jazz band performances, and because there are so many kids in the 5th and 6th grades, they do each grades' concert on separate days.)

As we were walking through the parking lot, we passed a sweet mother daughter moment where the mom was giving her daughter a quick hug before the girl ran into the school. But you know the proverb, "Never judge a book by its cover?" Well, this saying played out about five minutes later inside the auditorium.

My husband and I walked into the auditorium and I noticed that we weren’t as early as I thought-there was quite a crowd already seated and as my husband ushered my daughter out towards the music room, he gestured over at some empty seats about three rows from the front on the right side of the room (my daughter assured us that she would be standing on the risers facing this section of the room.)

I walked up to two people on the end of the row and asked if any of the seats next to them were taken. Since they answered "No" I quickly glanced down the row-there were three women sitting at the other end but quite a few empty seats in the middle, so I took my son’s hand and started walking in.

I was just putting my things down when a woman walked up to me and said in a terse tone,

"How many seats do you need?"

Without looking up (I was taking off my son’s coat at the time) I told her I only needed three seats. Her reply was that she needed four but I really wasn’t paying attention to her to realize that she was not happy. Irritated she said,


"Well this isn’t going to work,"

and her tone of voice finally caught my attention and I turned to look at her. Guess who I saw glaring at me? Yep, you guessed it-that same loving woman I saw only five minutes earlier in the parking lot.

I was more than a little startled because I didn’t understand why this woman was still talking to me and why she was angry-the only thing I can say is that it had been a hectic day at work and I had quite a few things on my mind, so the obvious wasn’t obvious. I shrugged my shoulders and started to sit down and that’s when the full fury of this woman was unleashed. She started screaming at me at the top of her lungs saying a lot of things like

"How dare you!" and "Don’t you know that I got here first?" 

and insinuating that I had no moral character whatsoever. (I also want to add that this woman was huge both in height and girth and she was towering over me as she screamed. She also tried to get everyone else to notice my apparent insensibility by addressing the people in the rows around us and wildly waving her arms.)

At this point I looked to my left and noticed that there were only three available seats and the whole scope of this situation hit me at last-this woman was accusing me of stealing seats. A lot started going on in my head at that moment-a part of me wished madly for my husband to get back, a part thought I should get up and get the heck away from this woman, and the other part (the one I am totally baffled by) decided to just stay seated. You see, I am not one to draw attention to myself, and my friends and co-workers all know me as the "peace maker"-I try to get along with everybody. (Okay, I might still argue with my husband but that doesn’t count.)

I anxiously looked over at my son who was staring at this woman open-mouthed, and once again I told myself to get out of there, that any decent mother would leave, but I couldn’t move. I guess I was silently protesting, just sitting staring straight ahead until this woman either hit me (and I really thought she would), we would be asked to leave, or she gave up.

Thankfully she decided to move on, and would you believe that she found four seats together in the front row-right in front of me? She turned around shouting (just like she was on stage),

"Now here are four seats together and these people have no problem with my family sitting here."

She stopped rather abruptly and sat down and I looked to see why-my husband was making his way down the row towards me. He started asking what was going on and I whispered back that apparently I am a seat thief and for him to just sit down. He did so but not without shouting, "Is it that big mouth there?" Let’s just say that if I could have sunk into the floor I would have, and after giving him my death stare he sat down.

I had to watch this woman be-bopping her head during the entire concert, and when my daughter took the stage, I couldn’t see her because this woman’s daughter decided to stand fully turned to face the audience! She smiled at her mother while her mother sang along (I am not exaggerating), and I just hoped for an end to this evening.

My daughter saw my face after the concert and asked what was bothering me, and let’s just say I never walked as fast as I did that night-I just wanted out of there! As we headed for home, I gave a slimmed down version of the "incident"while my husband laughed-he still thinks it’s funny and is now referring to me as "the bruiser." I also covertly asked whether my daughter was friends with the girl who stood in front of her-her response (thankfully) was no, so I am hoping that I will never meet this woman again (at least not until next year’s concert-wish me luck…)

“An optimist laughs to forget, a pessimist forgets to laugh.”

Life is funny, it really is, and if you can learn to laugh at some of the small annoyances, in the great perspective of things, they become even smaller. My muse for tonight’s post is my paper wars, and I decided to share it with you because, well…because I want to. But although this post may dwell in the land of the potty, rest assured that my discussion only involves the tools used to complete the process and not the process itself.

I know you’re curious about the war I’m raging, and I know you’re wondering just what makes this annoyance funny. Within the past year, the teacher bathrooms and the teacher’s lounge have undergone a slight change-the purchase of new paper towel and toilet paper dispensers. The reason for the change, I haven’t a clue, although at first the new toilet paper dispensers seemed a logical solution. You see the one predicament that can strike fear into even the toughest bruiser is casually glancing over and seeing an empty toilet paper roll, and even though our wonderful custodial staff often kept spare rolls on a shelf above the bathroom mirror, you still had to figure out how the heck you were going to reach that shelf!

The new toilet paper dispenser seemed to solve all that. It could hold five rolls of paper, and if one roll was empty, you could turn a dial and a full roll would drop down. I remember a lot of "oohs" and "ahhs" when they put this baby in, and it did take away everyone’s biggest fear, that is until we had to use the thing. You see, now the roll didn’t spin freely on it’s holder-it had a much smaller space in which to move, so getting an adequate amount of paper was a daunting task. And for those people, such as myself, who "build a nest" prior to taking a seat, the ability to get enough paper from the roll to do this was nearly impossible. Factor in the fact that the birth of two children has adversely affected my holding ability, and now the situation of feathering my so-called nest is downright scary. There have been times that I didn’t think I could make it, but did so with only seconds to spare.

Let’s not forget that we need enough paper to finish the job. The situation goes something like this:
rip, swear, rip, and swear some more, rip, rip, rip, rip, swear, swear, and swear…
 
Confidence in a job well done is certainly not something I feel when I am through, but I move onto the next task at hand, washing up. It’s simple; you wet your hands, lather, rinse, and then head for the towel dispenser. Gone is the push-the-lever-down- and-the-paper-comes-out machine, and in its place is a seemingly trouble-free container where you are to grab a two-inch section of towel and pull. But you have to pull with both hands or you will get just that two-inch section of towel, and you spend another two minutes trying to retrieve the rest of the towel. It’s gotten so bad that I actually repeat a new mantra, "I will pull with both hands," over and over as I head for the towels.

Now an annoyance is still an annoyance until you share it with somebody, and after sharing my plight with my co-workers at lunch, I found I was not alone, and we all got a stress relieving chuckle over the whole thing. In fact, things took such a hilarious turn that I shouted, "I just want a piece of paper, a square to spare!"as the period bell rang, just so my point was made clear. (If you were a loyal Seinfeld junkie, that line should bring back memories of Elaine in a public bathroom begging the stall next to her for a spare square-a classic...)

I am currently raging a similar battle on the home front because I came face to face with an empty toilet paper roll on two occasions (thanks to my children) and both times were almost back-to-back. The remedy? All spare rolls are now occupying the towel basket, minus the towels of course, but I am willing to trudge out to our hall linen closet for a towel-toilet paper retrieval is another story…

Bad Chi

Have you ever heard someone referring to his or her "chi?" Well, essentially this is the word for life energy, and Chinese philosophy states there is a life force in all things, and it is essential to have a balance of both negative and positive in the body to have good health. You have probably heard of chi, but just don't realize it. In Japan it’s ki, in India it’s Prana, in ancient Egypt it was known as ka, the ancient Greeks called it Puma, Native Americans name it the Great Spirit, Christians call it the Holy Spirit, in Africa it’s known as ashe, and Hawaiians call it mana. Anyway, the Chinese say that if anything affects that balance, you will suffer in terms of health problems and discomfort in your environment.

So why am I quoting Chinese philosophy tonight? Well, I am convinced, without a shadow of a doubt, that I am suffering from the effects of "bad chi." Alright, now I can picture the looks on your faces right now, and a few of you are probably rolling your eyes as you read this-I have not gone off my rocker on this one, and I can prove it.

It all started with a fateful misstep (or two) when I went down to my basement laundry room on July 16. I am thinking that a normal person (a person with a large amount of good chi I’m guessing), would have carried the empty laundry basket with one hand, and grabbed the handrail with the other. Oh, and did I happen to mention that flip-flops, well known for their slippage ability, were also worn that day? And don’t forget the fact that this was the day before we were to leave for vacation… And what about the end result-my Peroneus longus tendon (yes, this name is for real-it's the tendon that runs from the ankle to the side of the foot) was damaged so badly that it tore a piece of my anklebone off. One broken bone plus a badly damaged tendon is equal to wearing a boot until the middle of October, several weeks of physical therapy, and the inability to wear cute shoes or heels! Those of you taller than five feet one (and a half) wouldn’t understand my pain.

And speaking of pain, now I understand why some people say it would have actually been better if I had just broken my anklebone. I still can’t lay my foot on it’s side or place the top of my foot flush with a surface when I kneel down, not to mention the pain from walking, and the doctor said it would be a year before my foot gets back to business as usual-UGH! I need to go shopping for some comfortable, but still hot, flats-is there such a thing? I refuse to wear anything with orthopedic in the name-heck, I don’t plan to wear anything with orthopedic in the name when I’m orthopedic!

Now I know what you’re thinking-this is just one isolated incident, and you are wrong! Like I said, I just got into sort of "regular" shoes a few weeks back, and things were looking good chi wise that is, until the incident of October 24. It was a beautiful Sunday with temperatures in the high 70’s, and we were outside the whole day working on our pumpkins. I had just sat down in a lawn chair and I was enjoying a glass of iced tea when the kids decided to play a game of hide and seek-so far so good, until my husband decided to join in. We had the dog outside with us on a really long lead, and my husband walked over to me and looped the lead around my left wrist-he didn’t want the dog following him as he ran around to the front of the house. The next few moments are still sort of a blur-I remember lifting the glass to my lips as my husband ran off, and then without notice the dog took off running. He pulled my left wrist down onto the arm of the chair, and shattered my iced tea glass.

I vaguely remember my daughter and husband calling out to me, but I just grabbed my wrist and started making my way to the house-I was in that much pain. And since I’m a full-blooded wimp, the tears came down in buckets as my family hovered around me, and then I started laughing-I mean, what the heck was going on here? With a lot of ice and an ace bandage I felt a little better by that evening, and I decided on a wait and see approach before going back to the doctor because frankly this was just a little embarrassing. Things were decidedly worse on Monday, so Tuesday I was back in the doctor’s office at 8:15 AM and scheduled for x-rays.

Well, my good chi and bad chi must be doing battle, because I didn’t break any bones but I still had a nasty wrist sprain-I mean I couldn’t move it up or down or twist it back and forth, so driving was real fun that day. The result of sitting in a lawn chair that wonderful Sunday afternoon-a beautiful wrist splint that I have to wear for two weeks. I have a tentative appointment for a recheck November 10, but already the swelling has gone down and I have been taking the splint off periodically as instructed, and movement is improving. My husband says only I can get injured while sitting in a chair, and he yells, "Don’t hurt yourself," every time I leave the house.

Turkey vultures watching me after the doctors visit

Now those have been my health issues, but what about that "discomfort in my environment" symptom I mentioned earlier? Things at work and the home front are spinning out of control. The kids in my classes have been especially unruly the past few weeks, and I have had to make office referrals for issues relating to immaturity and how many of my students don’t seem to know what is acceptable behavior in the classroom. Were talking incidents involving pretty crude humor that I can’t even write about. All I can say is that my student’s response has been, "I didn't do anything that bad…" And my own kids?  My son is getting reprimanded for calling out and not listening to the teacher, while my daughter is only showing us her good schoolwork-the rest she keeps to herself.

And then there are the daily agitations that seem like bigger problems when they are lumped with all the others. Last night I hit an all time low when I went to the bathroom and saw this after I finished doing you-know-what! I had to carefully tear small bits and hope for the best as I ventured out in the hallway where our linen closet is, and our toilet paper supply…

So here I sit, worried that I still haven’t balanced all my positive and negative parts, and hoping that a co-worker who is experiencing some bad chi right now doesn’t send it back my way-I mean, how much worse can it get? Uh oh, if I knock on fake wood does it still count?

Aw heck, he still loves me...

I promised you a story, so a story is just what you’re going to get. This story takes place on September 7th, Labor Day-we were tackling all those fun jobs that we didn’t get done during the week (laundry, grocery shopping, etc.) I just finished putting the groceries away and I washed my hands in the kitchen sink. I had my engagement ring on and my ruby ring that wraps around my engagement ring (this is what I had requested instead of a regular wedding band), and I was wearing my mother’s ring on the other hand. (These are usually all I wear when it comes to jewelry because they mean the most to me.) Well I hate when I have water trapped under my rings, so I usually take them all off and put them in one of several ring boxes I have scattered around the house, but for some reason I just tucked them in my pants pocket thinking that since I was heading to my bedroom with some laundry, I would just put them away in there. I never made it to my bedroom…My kids started fighting so I broke up the quarrel, sent them both outside, then I headed to the couch for about 20 minutes of R and R-I forgot all about the precious cargo I had tucked away in my pants pocket.

The evening came all to quickly with dinner preparations, showers for the kids, getting ready for school the next day, and our evening story time and there wasn’t any time to think of anything else. Then after the kids finally got to bed, I grabbed my usual seat in front of the computer to check on my favorite blogs and tweet giveaways, still unaware of three very special rings taking up residence in my pants pocket.

I decided to go to bed early that night, but I got caught up in bloggyland, and it was after 10 when I finally got to the bathroom to get ready for bed. I heard a tinkle of metal as I was changing out of my pants, and startled, I reached my fingers into my right pants pocket and pulled out two rings-my engagement ring and my mother’s ring. The pocket is one of those half-pocket deals and I couldn’t put my whole hand in, so I jabbed some more with a few of my fingers but I couldn’t find anything.

I was getting a little worried by now and I was trying to remember if I had actually worn all three rings-maybe I had left the wrap in my jewelry box? I tiptoed into my bedroom because my husband had turned in about twenty minutes earlier, and I started rummaging through my box-no ring. Now I was getting frantic-when had I put those rings in my pocket? I remembered my nap earlier that day and I ran for the sofa-I started stripping all the cushions off and began digging my hands down into the box springs but still no ring. I then grabbed a flashlight and looked under, in, and around the sofa, even pulling it out from the wall as far as I could, but still nothing.

I started to quiver-could I have lost it in the bathroom? I headed back to the bathroom with my flashlight and getting down on my hands and knees I searched through the towel basket, near the garbage can (and in the garbage can), then the floor, and then I stopped and stared at the toilet. Oh no! I couldn’t have…could I?

I ran to the computer and started looking up how to retrieve a ring that gets flushed down the toilet, and there was some hope-if the ring was heavy enough, it just might have gotten caught in the toilet itself, so that was the first place to look. I headed back to my bedroom and touched my husband’s arm and he woke with a start-he might have been sleeping a little more soundly than I thought. There was no easy way to say it so I just came right out and said, "I think I flushed my wedding ring down the toilet." I can’t remember my husband’s exact words, but I do know that the mood was anything but cheery. (By this time it was nearly 11:30 and I had been searching for the ring for over an hour-did I mention that I get up at 5:30 AM and my husband gets up at 6:20 AM?)

Searching a toilet is no easy task-my husband had to disconnect it from the floor, sacrificing the wax seal and bolts that hold it in place, and we had to empty out quite a bit of very murky water that was a color I wish I could forget. And since I was the suspected "dropper" I had to reach my hand up inside the toilet to see if the ring was somewhere inside-let’s just say I wanted to boil my hand and forearm after I was done! But sadly there was no ring, and both of us knew that if the ring had made it out of the toilet, I would never see it again.


My husband wasn’t convinced that I flushed the ring so he too took the flashlight and searched the couch, the kitchen, and then got on his hands and knees in the bathroom. Then he picked up my pants, those dreaded pants without real pockets, and he started feeling around-I assured him that the ring wasn’t there because I searched those pants at least three times. Just then my husband starts poking at the pockets seam. "What’s this?" and he holds up MY RING! The dang thing got pushed down into a space in the pockets seam probably from all my poking, and I started to cry, or maybe wail is the appropriate term, and I grabbed my ring and my husband!

All this time I had been telling myself that we could just get another ring-maybe a plain gold band this time that I could wear without my engagement ring-and everything would be all right. But I got that ring on my wedding day, in a church, in front of 125 people-it was more than just a ring, it was a symbol and a memory that I didn’t want to be without.

The toilet was back together and leaking (of course) by about 12:30 Tuesday morning, and my husband’s emotional response to finding the ring was a mixture of relief and annoyance. In fact, he had to replace the wax ring, the bolts, and the flusher unit, and tighten things up several times over the course of a week to stop the leaking. He and I have also relayed this story to the people we work with-to the women my husband is a hero, but the men all think he was crazy to be messing with a toilet at midnight. My husband is still a little annoyed about the whole thing, but he smiles when he brings it up. And me, well, my knight and shinning armor may not have rode in on a white horse that night, but he saved the day when he chose to straddle a white toilet for the one he loved. I love you honey…
(Oh, and by the way, these pictures are not of my husband, but I thought it was hilarious that this plumber is smiling as he works on a toilet. I wonder what my husband will think?)

What do these three have in common?

So what does a wheel chair, stomach virus, and Strep throat all have in common? If you guessed that all three occurred during our trip to Virginia Beach a couple weeks ago, pat yourself on the back for being so perceptive, then read on-and if you didn’t guess, well better luck next time.

Now I know bad luck often comes in threes for some reason, therefore I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop so to speak. The thing is, I thought I had my three before our vacation-my son’s foot, our leaking furnace, and the problems with our satellite TV-but I guess the powers of the universe weren’t done with us yet. You already know about my ankle from my last Virginia post, but now I’m going to tell you about our actual trip, and yes, I’m laughing about it now. And my husband, who is still not too crazy about my blogging fixation, said near the end of our vacation, "I hope your taking notes for your blog," so I'm using that as the go ahead to reveal all…

Like I said previously, it took a lot of convincing on my part just to get my husband thinking about attempting this trip with my bum ankle, but with the help of my daughter, we were able to get the rest of our stuff packed. My husband then did some research online and he found a rental company that rented wheel chairs and beach wheel chairs for the week-I wasn’t to thrilled about a wheel chair, but after falling that night using my crutches in the bathroom, I agreed. I called the next day during our trip down, and as it turned out, the company had both a regular wheel chair and beach wheel chair available (according to the woman on the phone, the beach wheel chairs never hang around long, so this one must have been destined for me-I can’t say that I was ecstatic, but this was our first piece of good luck in a while…)

But that good luck started to run out during the trip down-what should have been a 5-6 hour trip soon turned into an 8 1/2 hour trip, and by the time we arrived, my son was complaining about a sore stomach and headache. We tried to get him to eat dinner, but he refused, and about an hour after we settled in our condo, he was throwing up. My husband was giving me the "I told you we shouldn’t have come" glare, but I still tried to remain positive.

Once again our luck turned-by next morning my son was back to his old self, so we headed for the beach. I love watching the waves, but I did start feeling a little sorry for myself as I watched my husband, daughter, and son enjoying themselves in the ocean. Plus, it got a little hot in my beach wheel chair (105 degree temps everyday will do that), especially since I had to keep battling our beach umbrella every time the wind blew, but I didn’t let on to my family.

We stuck mainly to the beach for our daily entertainment (other entertainment was who would push mommy in her wheel chair), as we got used to the two wheel chairs, but by Tuesday I was bored, so we decided we would head to the aquarium that morning. It turns out that the daycare and summer camps in the area had also decided on a Tuesday morning trip so the place was packed. My husband was worried someone was going to bump my foot (a daily occurrence from my son, so I was always wary of where he was at all times), my daughter started complaining about a sore throat and wanted to sit on my lap, and my son kept complaining about the crowd and how he wanted a snack. The perfect family outing!

We were also supposed to take a boat ride through the canal after lunch, but we were all pretty sick of one another by then, so we opted to go back to the condo. But it turns out that this might not have been the best decision-a freak storm had hit while we were in the aquarium, and although it was sunny out, none of the buildings on the boardwalk had electric including all the hotels and our condo, and the traffic lights weren’t working. So we headed away from the beach and drove to an area where we could watch the navy fighter jets landing, but by now my daughter was complaining of a back ache and curled up in the fetal position in the van, and my son was whining. And then I was looking frantically for a bag so my daughter could throw up-ah, the memories!

This was our clue to head back to the beach (and quickly), and we were relieved to see the traffic lights working again. But just as we thought we were in the clear, we noticed that the northern end of the boardwalk-where we were staying-was still dark. There was still no electric in our condo, we were on the 8th floor, and I didn’t have my crutches with me! My husband made the decision to high tail it up eight flights accompanied by my son and the flashlight on his cell phone (the stair wells were all dark-the emergency lights are on a battery and only work for so long), while my daughter and I waited at a boardwalk bench. It wasn’t until they both came back down that I realized I too would have to get up those stairs… It took me twenty minutes to tackle those stairs, and I was both sweaty and crying by the time I reached the top. And you know what? The electricity came back on exactly five minutes after we got there! My husband headed back down (this time in the elevator) to get us subs for dinner, and that’s when I got a flashlight to look at my daughter’s throat. Her tonsils were swollen and covered with white spots, so I called my husband and talked about taking her to the emergency room after dinner-he agreed.

The hospital was ten minutes from the beach and even though it was crowded in the emergency room, two triages-for severe cases and for cases like my daughter’s-meant we didn’t wait long. We decided on seats near a man in a wheel chair sleeping with his head on a waiting room chair-he looked harmless enough. But on closer inspection, the stub of his missing right leg sat on the chair as well, so I graciously said I would stay in my wheel chair, while my daughter and husband dove for the empty seats furthest away from the man. My son shot us a look (thank goodness he didn’t say anything) as he took the chair next to the man. My husband and I looked at each other and then at my son and almost lost it-I had to bite my tongue pretty hard to keep from laughing as my son glared at me. When we got in a room, my son said, "I can’t believe you made me sit by the man with one leg-he was looking at me," and even my daughter was laughing!

Better daughter, new umbrella, braver me!

When we were seen, my daughter’s temperature was 103 (note to self, stash a thermometer in your suitcase next time), and the doctor said that since she had 8 out of 10 symptoms for Strep throat, she was just going to go ahead and treat her for that-hallelujah! We were also able to get her prescription filled at a 24 hour CVS, and they had all my daughter’s records in their computer. She spent the better part of Wednesday sleeping and watching TV, while I watched my husband and son playing in the ocean below. We were tossing around the idea of going home Thursday morning, but my daughter started feeling better by that evening, and cried when we mentioned cutting our vacation short. So we took it slowly Thursday and Friday, spending the mornings on the beach and heading down the boardwalk for some entertainment in the evenings, and as it turns out, those two days were the best days of our trip-my daughter and son were both smiling again!

Now there is a bit more about Thursday and Friday than that, but I will save it for when I review Virginia Beach as a vacation destination. Until then, wash your hands and watch your step (okay, I think that’s funny, but I have so little entertainment these days…)