Under the Influence

Arrival is near...

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Thu, 30 Jun 2011 21:33:00 +0000

We have an arrival date for Sven (not his real name) - he will be here August 1. That is ten days earlier than originally expected. We are all excited, but I am a little nervous. What if he doesn't like us? Thinks we're weird (ok, that might be a given)? Hates our rules and wants a new family?

I have a whole list of things to do before he gets here - finish up his room (ie: do everything to it that we've meant to do while Sous Chef has been in the room), get kids relocated to their new rooms, do some other repairs on the house, spruce things up. I feel like we are getting ready to put our house on the market. And in a way we are. We are trying to "sell" it to our newest family member.

Family member. I think my biggest struggle will be trying not to treat this new person in our home as a guest. Of course, we will do that for a few days or so while he gets settled, but at some point, he will have to take on chores and responsibilities just like our other kids. You know when you have a "guest" cleaning toilets and bathrooms like the other three boys, they are no longer a "guest" and are officially family, right? These bathrooms get dirty pretty quickly, so he may feel like family faster than I, or he, imagines.

Time, Time, Time...

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Fri, 17 Jun 2011 17:25:00 +0000

It's that time of year. The time when you hear things like, "I can't believe my baby graduated from preschool/middle school/high school/college" or "I can't believe my baby is going to HS next year" and "Time goes so fast". We hear it a lot right now. And it is often followed up with "It breaks my heart!" and "How did this happen?" Sometimes there are even tears. Not all the time, but occasionally. I never know what to say to these people. Why? Because I don't get it. I don't get why mamas (I rarely hear a dad say these things, so for the purpose of this writing, I will use moms) are sad that our kids are growing up. I absolutely love watching my kids grow older and taking on new challenges and becoming their own people. I am thrilled to see my oldest start high school next year. He is excited and I can't imagine not being excited for him. I can't imagine my heart breaking that each year he, and my other children, are doing what we do - evolving through time, learning and experiencing new things, experimenting with who we are and what we want to be. It's an ongoing process for all of us - babies/toddlers, adolescents/teens, young adults and even us full grown adults. And it makes me happy to watch and be a part of it all. The "my heart is breaking" thing? I.don't.get.it. My nephew went off to college out of state a couple of years ago. I asked my SIL if she cried. She said something along the lines of "How could I be sad? He was so excited all I could do was be excited for him." THAT I get.

And before you call me a cold hearted bitch, I get that time goes by, often very quickly. Sometimes it goes so fast I lose track of it. Like the other day at the doctor's office when I told him my middle son had strep throat a month ago. They looked in his file and it was actually three months ago. Oops, time got away from me. But there are times when it goes really.really.slow. For me it all adds up to time is moving along at just the speed it was meant to move. When I look at the big picture, I realize time is doing what it was meant to do - giving us the space we need to evolve, to learn and experience new things, to experiment with who we are and who we want to be and then move on to the next step and do it all again. It's just the right amount of time and at the right pace.

I do get sentimental. I do look at pictures or have a memory and think "Look how cute he was as a baby!" or "Oh my, that was so much fun." But the entire time I have been a parent when people have asked me "What's your favorite age?" my response has been "The age they are now." I meant it and continue to mean it. (Except maybe for age three. Three makes the terrible twos look like a cake walk.) There were so many cute, fun, loving, fulfilling, adorable, memorable times with my kids and there continue to be, even with the moody teenager. Times I wouldn't change or give up for anything, but I don't want to go back. I like moving forward.

So for all those mamas out there who will spend the next few days/weeks lamenting over their children growing older, I will try to be sensitive. If you know me well though, you know sometimes I struggle with that, but I promise I will try.

Get your eyes checked. A PSA from your friend Jo.

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Mon, 28 Mar 2011 14:40:00 +0000

Remember when I posted a picture from January 1 excitement and said I hope this isn't any indication of how the rest of the year would go? Well, I think it was. In the first quarter of 2011 the following events have happened:

The wounded eye
My dad had a cyst, that was between his brain and his skull, sucked out through his nose. All is well now.
My mom had rotator cuff surgery. On her other arm. She also needs knee surgery once her arm heals.
I have a lump in my boob that is a cyst. I have a follow up in six months and if it is still there I am demanding it be removed and if my doctor refuses I will find one who will remove it.

And drumroll, please....I now have to have surgery on my eyes. MY EYES people. And before I go into all of the gory details of MY EYES, I want to tell you all - go get YOUR EYES checked. Even if you are not having vision issues. I went because my glasses were getting old and worn out and I wanted new ones. My vision had not really changed much, but I knew the eyeglass place would require a current prescription, so I made an appointment and went to the eye doctor at the end of February. And that was how it all started.

We got through all the vision stuff, you know "better now or now?" "better with this or this?" routine. The doctor made some notes and I was figuring we would get onto the numbing drops, dilation and all that stuff. She then says, "I cannot dilate your eyes today. You need to go see a glaucoma specialist because you have narrow angles. If I dilate your eyes I am afraid those narrow angles would close off completely." I assumed that would be bad. And boy was I right. Because if those already narrow angles close and stay that way? Blindness sets in in one to two days, often without warning. And if you do have warning signs and symptoms, they are often attributed to something else - migraines, stomach flu if you have vomiting, or some other more common illness.

So last week I saw the glaucoma specialist. I was supposed to be there for four hours and I had to have a driver because the dilation he would do would be pretty serious stuff. Way more than a regular eye doctor. An hour later I'm told I am finished. He can't dilate my eyes either, for the same reason as my regular eye doctor, and I need to have surgery. And the surgery can wait no more than two to three weeks. Oh, and they can only do one eye at a time so I have to do this twice. Fuckin' awesome.

I have since been reading about narrow angles in the eye and closed angle glaucoma. As my doctor explained, I DON'T have closed angle glaucoma. My angles are narrow, not closed, and the pressure in my eye is normal and my optic nerve looks great. There is no scar tissue or permanent damage to indicate that the angles have ever closed and opened again, so all of that is good. If I don't have the surgery, though, I am at very high risk of developing closed angle glaucoma and that is bad. Very bad. At least for those of us who wish to keep our eyesight.

So in less than two weeks, I will trek to the eye institute and have a tiny hole burned in my eye, in between my iris and my pupil, that will act as a drain to keep the fluids flowing and compensate for those narrow angles. Then the next day, I will go back so he can do it again to the other eye. He normally waits a week in between, but due to his schedule, my schedule, etc. it would have worked that it would have been longer than a week in between and he doesn't want to wait that long. I tried to talk him into doing them both in the same day, but he wouldn't agree. I was happy he agreed to two consecutive days.

So there is your PSA for this week. Get your asses, and your eyes, to the eye doctor. Pronto.

Can you believe it?

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Wed, 16 Mar 2011 22:00:00 +0000

I'm here. I'm really here. Living and surviving and even having some fun as we worked our way through a snowy and cold winter! I am happy to say, our daffodils have buds on them. I love that the sun goes down later now and our trees will be blooming soon.

With all of that, there really just isn't anything exciting going on. I can't think of anything snarky to write about, I haven't been in any confrontations with raging drivers and my clients at work have been fairly normal. Though I do often complain on Facebook about people who have gross feet. I won't massage gross feet, so don't ask, because the answer will be "no".

We have "met" our exchange student via online methods. He is 15 (he will be 16 when he gets here) and he is from Sweden. I will not tell you his real name, but my BFF calls him Sven, so I probably will, too. That is not his real name, though, and she is concerned she might call him that to his face.

How, do you ask, will she call him Sven to his face when she lives a 24 hour flight away in Guam? Well, that's easy. She's moving back to the states in April. She'll be within a days drive on the east coast! Yay. We are excited.

I am all abuzz with the Royal Wedding and am hosting the Gala of the Year to gather all my friends who want to either stay all night, or join us at about 4:00AM that morning to watch the wedding together. I will be sporting a tiara and a replica of Princess Di's, now Kate's, ring. It's true. It arrived today. There will be Buck's Fizz (British name for Mimosas), Welsh cakes, and other breakfast assortments along with English Tea and a real wedding cake. There will be a British flag to welcome the guests and engraved matchbooks as a party favor. We will even have quite a bit of memorabilia on display, as one of my friends is quite the Anglofile and Royal Family Expert and collector of all things Windsor.

So that's it. One of these days, I hope to get back to blogging on a more regular basis. Of course, I think that frequently...

I always forget how much grooming is involved prior to visiting the gyno

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Fri, 18 Feb 2011 19:21:00 +0000

I was running late the other day. I was in the shower trying to hurry when I realized, "Damn, I better shave my armpits. And my legs." You see, in the winter, I don't do this on a daily basis, especially if I am running late. Then I realized, I better groom things a little "down there" too. I was going for my annual exam with the gynecologist. If you're like me, you don't want any of those pesky pubic hairs being "ungroomed" in any way for fear they might get caught in the speculum or some other god forsaken medical device and rip out a hair or two. Ouch! This really isn't an issue if my appointments were ever in the summer time, but my annual exams always fall in the middle of winter.

So there you have it. Way too much TMI.

Ssssmmmmoooooth!

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Mon, 24 Jan 2011 12:17:00 +0000

You know I am always trying some new hair product or another. You also know I like to write about it.

My hair drives me batty sometimes. It's wavy, it's curly and it's frizzy if I don't do anything to it - blow dry only and my hair looks like a big puff of cotton candy, air dry and it's curls in some areas, waves in others and frizz all over. Get me a good round brush and some kind of iron, and I can get it under control fairly easily, but it's still a pain and god forbid, it get damp in a rain shower or it's humid outside, because I am doomed.

I kept looking at this product at Ulta called Liquid Keratin. The initial kit was $69.00. I kept mulling it over but never bought it. Then I started hearing and seeing stuff about the Brazilian Blowout, which is nothing like a Brazilian bikini wax, in case you are wondering. Then I started looking at other salon smoothing treatments. Basically, I didn't want to pay 100's of dollars every 3-6 months. If I do that, I won't be able to afford the Botox I hope to get this year.

So I finally broke down and bought the Liquid Keratin kit. Really, what could it hurt? Well, after I started thinking about that, I had all kinds of crazy thoughts - it could fry my hair and it would all break off, I could go bald, I could have a horrible reaction and break out all over my scalp and neck. The list went on. But I am brave and adventurous when it comes to my hair. It's just hair and it grows back. At least it always has.

I used the product as directed. I love it. My hair is definitely not straight, which is fine, I wasn't going for straight. I was going for smooth. And I got it - at least about 80-90% smoother than before. And it says I can still wear it curly if I want. We'll have to see about that - once the heat and humidity set in. I am using the shampoo and conditioner that go with the treatment and I will be doing the treatment again when it's time (6 weeks-ish). I definitely will saturate my hair more the next time since I went a little light the first time. And no, I was not paid to say this.

Another boy makes SIX!

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Tue, 18 Jan 2011 11:48:00 +0000

Our family is growing. We are so excited. Come August, we will have FOUR boys in our home, not including MG or Ace, the cat. Have you fallen on the floor yet in shock? Well, get your rear back into your chair, because I am NOT expecting a baby. In fact, boy #6 is a teenager. If all goes well, we will be hosting a foreign exchange student for the 2011-2012 school year. We are in the process of filing the paperwork (which is equivalent to, or more cumbersome than, applying to college!), getting background checks (we have to pass a State Department clearance), collecting references, etc. All of this needs to be done very quickly because our school district has a cutoff date of April 15. We will get to review profiles and choose a student who hopefully will fit well into our loud and chaotic family. Keep your fingers crossed!

Any of you readers who have any tips, suggestions, advice for being a host family, please feel free to leave your info in the comments section! We can use all the help we can get.

Hopefully this is not a sign of how 2011 will go.

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Mon, 17 Jan 2011 22:07:00 +0000

I spent some time on New Year's Day in the urgent care. Take a look at the picture below and you'll understand why.

As it turns out, I apparently scratched my eye and broke some blood vessels...in my sleep. I went to bed on Wednesday, Jan. 30 with no issues. I woke up on New Year's Eve with a red spot, but it was contained in a small area. I woke up on NYD and it looked like most of the blood vessels in my eye exploded. A week of antibiotics to prevent infection and then a few more days of healing and I am all better.

I've been kidnapped!

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Thu, 30 Dec 2010 22:38:00 +0000

Is it possible to be kidnapped by an inanimate object? If so, you better come save me because my iPhone is holding me hostage. Ever since my husband and I got our iPhones, I have spent minimal time on the computer. It's so much easier and so much more comfortable to lounge on the couch reading emails, catching up on Facebook and playing games than it is to be in our office on the old fashioned computer. We don't have a laptop, but we hope to rectify that this year.

Anyhoo, the iPhone is not very conducive to blogging. I do make it to other blogs on occasion, but if I don't have my glasses near by, I may not be reading all those little words correctly. So if I leave a comment on your blog that makes absolutely no sense, please forgive me as I may have twisted some of your words into other words, thus changing the meaning of your blog post completely!

One day soon, I hope to get back here on a regular basis.

Happy 2011!

Secret Santa has been busy.

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Mon, 13 Dec 2010 20:06:00 +0000

Today I shipped out my Secret Santa Soiree gift. Could this be coming to YOUR house?

In case you can't see it clearly, it's lotion, soap and body spray that is the new Winter Wonderland scent from Bath & Body. It smells heavenly! Also included is a red snowflake ornament and a gift card to Chick-Fil-A. Yum. If you are the receiver of this gift, I hope you enjoy it.

I was not compensated for this post (but I wish I did!).

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Mon, 29 Nov 2010 22:23:00 +0000

I am a hair product whore. I don't think there is a hair product I haven't tried - curly hair, defrizzers, straightening balms, conditioners, shampoos. My favorite product is Moroccan Hair Oil. If you don't have it, you need it. Do not be fooled by cheap imitations. Do buy online for it is much cheaper and you can buy larger bottles than what you can get at the hair salon. I have used a variety of hair barettes, head bands, pony tail holders, French twist contraptions and clips. I have also tried a variety of blow dryers, straighteners and curling irons.

Have you seen the InStyler?

I have seen the infommercial many times. I always thought it looked like a magical product but I was not going to be fooled by their professional hairstylists working their magic on poor, frizzy headed girls. I have fallen victim too many times.

Then I started seeing this item at my local Ulta. I still was not going to be lured into this magic wand for hair. Not for $99. No sir. Not me. No way in hell.

Then I got a coupon for 20% off one item. And.I.caved. When purchasing, I asked questions. "What do you know about this?" "Can I bring it back if I don't like it?" I left with my purchase, cautiously optimistic that I had found my dream appliance.

I used it once. Then I used it again. And again. People, I can tell you, I am in LOVE with this amazing piece of technology. Don't get me wrong, for straightening, I don't think I will ever give up my Chi. But for reducing frizz and adding bounce and waves and curls, this is the bomb. It does what my hairstylist can do with just a blowout. But I can't flip and twist and move my hairbrush and hairdryer like my hairstylist and I end up with something in between polished and unkept. Not a good look.

So, to prove my point, I am going to show you before and after pictures. Let me warn you ahead of time, the before pictures are.not.pretty. And if it wasn't so important for me to share my happiness about this magic wand, I wouldn't sacrifice my dignity or your vision to show these pictures. But it must be done. You have been warned.

Towel dried hair. You didn't really think I'd give you a full on view of my before picture, did you?

Hair blown dry. No round brush used. No make up. Hence the "marked out" face.

After the Instyler.

To be fair, I did roundbrush my hair some prior to using the InStyler. But I have also used the InStyler without round brushing first. The results are the same, it just takes a little longer because I have to go a little slower with the iron and sometimes have to go over my hair twice.

So there you have it. My uncompensated review of the InStyler. Now, if you have hair issues, go out and get yourself one of these things. You will not be disappointed.

Don't make me choose.

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Tue, 23 Nov 2010 01:49:00 +0000

A little over a year ago, I found a kitten. He was cute, cuddly and almost immediately was given a name. It appeared Ace would be staying. The hitch in this plan is that my husband is allergic to cats. We tried all kinds of homeopathic remedies. Allergy meds and inhalers pretty much took care of the issue, but my husband has been insistent he doesn't want to be on meds "for the rest of his life." I am not sure if he means his own life or Ace's, but every time he utters these words, I panic. I don't think I can get rid of Ace. And before anyone thinks, "What a selfish bitch, choosing her cat over her husband," let me tell you, I came up with a decent compromise. My husband can get his own apartment and me and the kids and the cat will stay in our home. The kids and I can visit MG at his cat free apartment. Ok, ok. I would not choose the cat over MG, but it would not be easy for me to say so long to little Ace.

Ace as a kitten.

Ace grown up.

And as hard as it would be for me, my kids would suffer terribly. I tried explaining this to MG. "Can you imagine how Sous Chef would react? There's not a day that goes by that he doesn't hug and kiss on that cat and tell him he loves him and how happy he is he lives with us." CJ is the same. And so is Big E. Not to mention me. To be honest with you, MG loves on the cat as much as the rest of us. He just does it with a little more distance and a quick follow up to wash his hands and face.

MG recently went to the doctor to get refills on his meds, talk about allergy shots, etc. On that very day, CJ comes home with this "Thankful" packet he worked on at school. These are the pages that were in there.

This says, "I am most thankful for mom because she found Ace."

This one says, "Dear Mom, thank you for finding Ace. I love you!"

This one says, "I am thankful for Ace because he's cute." I corrected the spelling for cute, which CJ spelled "ceut.

Man, that kid has good timing.

You know it's bad when you think the safer option is to jump on the tracks and run!

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Thu, 18 Nov 2010 02:28:00 +0000

After an exhilirating day at the Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear (to read my other entries go HERE, HERE and HERE), we made our way to Metro Station. With 250,000 people. We thought maybe we would wait out the crowd, but the more we were in the crowd with nowhere to go, nowhere to eat (all restaurants were booked - mental note: next time make reservations for the post rally so we have a place to go), we decided to hit the Metro station since we were passing one that was the Red Line, which is what we needed.

I have been in some rather uncomfortable and crowded situations. And as you may have read in my previous post, I have been known to lose my shit. But that's usually anger induced. I can't remember the last time I was in a crowd where I really thought I was going to get hysterical. You know, crying, screaming, hair pulling (my own and others' hair), scratching, biting, cussing, salivating, sweating and any other sign and symptom that goes along with utter and complete hysteria and panic. Now that I've typed it out, I don't think I have ever been in that situation. Until that day.

We get through all the signs and escalators and stairs in the Metro station and this is what we see when we get to our platform (that's us, in red):

This is where we had to catch the Red Line. To get an idea of how many people were there, each black dot represents 10,000 people. Ok, maybe not, but you get the picture. Notice on the other side of the tracks, there is almost no one and those who are there are happy.

At this point, we just got in line at the end of the crowd. As people come in behind us, we get pushed more and more into the crowd. In the meantime, trains are coming in and people are trying to get off, so people are pushing from both directions.

There we are, in that crowd. People are screaming and yelling and pushing and cussing. One woman dropped her child and was SCREAMING "Child down! Child down!" trying to reach him to pick him up out of the mob, which she managed successfully to do. There was a blind man with a sighted man trying to make their way through. The sighted man finally just got pissed and pushed everyone out of his way and he and the blind man made it onto a train.

As the crowd pushes and shoves, we end up right next to the edge of the track. Two of us are together and I was not 100% sure where our other two friends were. At this point, I am about to LOSE.MY.MIND.

So now C is panicking that someone is going to give a good shove and we are all going to end up on the tracks. She's from NYC and while growing up I'm sure heard many stories of people ending up on the tracks. We know what that means. I am now in full blown hysteria and I am pretty sure I look something like this.

In the process of "I'm going to go into total hysteria mode," I start thinking not so clearly. I am actually thinking jumping ONTO the tracks and crossing over to the smiling people might be the better option. I am starting to understand how desperate people can take desperate measures. I was actually standing there looking at the tracks trying to figure out where NOT to step in order to prevent electrocution.

C notices what looks like an exit sign at the opposite end of the platform from where we came in. And there appear to be some stairs. She is suggesting we try to make our way down there and just leave. I followed up her suggestion with "I am out of here. I'm going that way. I can't stay here." In my head, all I was thinking was "if I lose the gals, I can always buy a plane ticket home." And I would have because I could not stand there another minute waiting to be shoved onto the Metro train tracks. So C and I took off through the crowd. And thankfully L and E saw what was going on and joined us.

So here was our question when it was all over. See all those people huddled together? The little black dots? Well, why didn't the people on the end who could see all that empty space down where we moved to not go down there to start with? Why did they stay put on the edge of a crowd when there was so much empty space at the beginning of the train track, the front of the train? We were caught in the crowd and couldn't see that until we broke free.

Finally, after we go to the open platform area and could breathe, a Metro employee stood on the other side of the tracks, where the happy people are, and yelled over to the crowd to "MOVE DOWN!" We have no clue why the people on the end didn't have enough common sense to do that from the beginning. They saw several trains come in and out of the station to see that the beginning of the train was WAY DOWN THERE.

Anyway, we got on the next train and made it safely back to our car. My hair is no longer standing on end and my smile is back. I don't ever want to experience that again!

You may be dressed like an ape, but you're acting like a neanderthal.

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Tue, 16 Nov 2010 03:18:00 +0000

All in all, I do fairly well in crowds. Fairly well. But when being with that crowd goes on for hours and hours, I can feel myself getting to a breaking point. Often, I just take a few deep breaths and regain control of myself before I snap. Often, however, isn't 100%, and there are times when I ... snap.

At the Rally to Restore Sanity, last I heard there were about 250,000 people. That's a lot of people. A big crowd, if you will. It was a pretty tame crowd, too. There were lots of people milling about, criss-crossing through the seating areas to get to the port-o-lets (yuck) and food areas and then back to their seats. There were lots of "excuse me, just passing through" type comments and "sorry, I'm trying not to step on your blanket" type comments. I can handle it, as long as everyone is playing well together.

It's when the occasional idiot comes along that I find I cannot regain control of myself and I ... snap.

We got to the rally at 7:30 in.the.morning. I am not a morning person. We were up at about 5:00 in.the.morning. We had left our little neck of the woods the day before at 6:30 in.the.morning. I was up that day, too, at 5:00 in.the.morning. Let me reiterate, I am not a morning person. I don't like not having enough sleep and I certainly don't like getting up before the sun has made an appearance.

So at 7:30 in.the.morning on the day of the rally, we plopped down our blanket and settled in for the day. All was well and we chatted some with those around us. A friendly group, I might add.

At about 1:00, several hours after we had gotten comfortable, we were watching the live show and along come two twenty somethings, cutting through the area. We assume they are on their way to somewhere else, say, maybe THEIR SEATS. Well, instead of moving on, they stop on the few blades of grass that were not covered with blankets and or people. Those blades of grass were directly in front of E, who was with us. She couldn't see a damn thing but the back of the twenty somethings - one dressed in the full head mask of an ape and his friend, who is dressed as a clown and has on a rainbow clown wig. E is looking my way like "what do I do now?" She finally leaned forward and said, "Excuse me, I have been here since 7:30 in.the.morning and now you have come along and stopped right in front of me and I can't see. Do you mind moving over?" Well, the idiots moved over, a whole 1/2 inch. She then looked at me with the "now what?" look. I could feel myself losing control. I knew it was happening and there was nothing that was going to stop it. I not so quietly said, "Tell the asshole to get out of your way." He then looked at me with his ape face. All I could see were his eyes and I am pretty sure he rolled them. It was at that moment, that very moment, that I felt a little jolt throughout my body. Neurons were firing and energy was buzzing through every cell of my being. And then I ... snapped.

"Yes, asshole, I AM TALKING TO YOU!" He acted all confused and innocent, he had a right to stand there, blah, blah, blah. I explained to him, if yelling and using lots of hand gestures is considered explaining, that we had been there since 7:30 in.the.morning and who did he think he was to just creep in on our space? He then explained to me that "we have been here since 7:30, too." That didn't sit well with me. My response, "Well then, wherever you were at 7:30 this morning, go back there because that is where your seats are. You weren't HERE at 7:30 this morning, so just keep moving." Clown face told me to chill out, which never goes over well when one is already out of control. I really don't remember all that was said after that. I do know my final words were, "Keep moving and go bother someone else." They stood their long enough to give off the vibe that they would leave when they were damn good and ready. They lasted just a couple of minutes before they moved on.

It felt good, ya know. I can't remember the last time I had words with someone. It didn't last long and it certainly wasn't a threatening situation, but I did call him an asshole to his face, and that my friends, I can't remember doing any time in the recent past. I must say, I was a little embarrassed to have reacted so vehemently. But once I recovered from the embarrassment, it did feel good. Some days I just feel like I've lost some of my spunk, but it certainly appeared at that moment. Once that little incident was over, I was good to go for the rest of the day and didn't lose control of myself again. Well, until a little incident in the Metro station with those 250,000 people, but that story is for another day.

Did you thank a Veteran today?

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Thu, 11 Nov 2010 23:02:00 +0000

Sous Chef's school today put on an awesome Veteran's Day program. It's done by the 5th graders (all 850 of them) and the 5th grade teachers have been doing this for four years. Big E also was a part of this program three years ago. It has changed some over the last three years and today's program was quite a bit different.

The kids are encouraged to invite a veteran to the program. Sous Chef invited my dad. The kids in his homeroom who invited a veteran also wrote a poem and got to get up in front of the class with their veteran to read their poem. Here is his poem:

REMEMBERING OUR VETERANS

The Army
Going around the land
Protecting our cities
Ourselves
And our freedom.

Going into enemy territory
To secure us
From being hurt
And being captured.

The Navy
The ocean is their home
Submarines and boats they drive
Ready to defend
Us Americans.

Scouting the waters
Helping to keep
The ocean a
Safer place.

The Air Force
Patrolling the sky
Making it a safer place
For everyone
And everything.

My godfather's home
In the Armed Forces
May he be well
In his duties.

They all become our veterans
Rembered for protecting
Our rights and freedoms
They will be remembered
By us all.

I had not read or heard the poem ahead of time. My dad really liked it. And I was pleasantly surprised to see that second to last paragraph. My BFF, Sous Chef's godmother, is married to an officer in the Air Force and a long time friend of my husband (and me). I was proud to see that Sous Chef didn't forget the importance of GA's work and and well wishes for his safety.

From here the veterans paraded through the school for all the grades to cheer and honor them. The program ended in the gymnasium with patriotic songs and recognition for each of the veteran guests. Here is a quick video of the kids preparing for the Veterans who will be parading by.

I interrupt my regularly scheduled program to tell you I was hugged...by a doctor.

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Wed, 10 Nov 2010 12:11:00 +0000

No, it was not any type of sexual harassment.

For those who know me, even a little, you know I am not a big hugger. I don't mind hugs. The kind where you see someone or are saying goodbye and you give a quick "great to see you" kind of hug. Lingering hugs, though, and I start to feel my skin crawl. I also like to know the hug is coming.

I haven't shared on my blog that a little over a month ago I found a lump in my right breast. A big ass lump. Big enough that I wasn't even looking when I found it. I was sitting on our couch without a bra on, which is pretty normal for me if it's after 8:00pm. I moved to do something and the inside of my arm rubbed the lateral (outside close to my armpit area) portion of my boob and I felt the lump rub on my arm. It was that big. When I looked, I could see it.

So I went through all the medical hoops. First my GYN, who said, "Oh. That's big," and she sent me for a mammogram, sonogram and with the cards for a couple of breast surgeons. So off I went for testing, where the radiologist told me I had an "unidentified mass" and some abnormally enlarged lymph nodes and she was recommending a image guided biopsy. Then to the breast surgeon. About a week and half had gone by and it seemed the lump was getting smaller. Or I was getting used to it, I wasn't sure. I told the breast surgeon this and she said to trust my evaluation and she agreed, based on the measurements on the scans and feeling the lump that it seemed smaller. She felt very comfortable that the lump was caused by secondary trauma of all that was going on in my arm. Lots of lymph nodes in that area that were most likely doing the work of draining fluids and reducing swelling in my arm. Sounded good to me. She did say, if I didn't have the arm issue, I would be on the table getting a biopsy ASAP. I was to come back in four weeks and for a follow up sonogram and if there was no change, the biopsy would be done right away.

As it turns out, the lump kept getting smaller and smaller. I went to the doctor today and was happy to report I couldn't feel it. She did the sonogram and didn't see anything. No lump, no scar tissue, no nothing. It's like it was never there.

At the end of the appointment she said she was thrilled to be sending me on my way and not seeing me again. As she walked to the door, she opened her arms and gave me a hug. I was caught a little off guard. I don't think I have ever been hugged by a doctor. The closest I have ever come to a hug was less than 24 hours after brain surgery #1 when my doctor came to see me in ICU. He asked me how I felt and I said, "Like shit." Once he recovered from that response, he touched my arm and said, "I promise you will feel better tomorrow." THAT was as close as I have ever come to being hugged by a doctor.

So I left the appointment without a lump and with a hug. It was a good day.

Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear: A Pictorial Summary

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Mon, 08 Nov 2010 12:55:00 +0000

If you stopped by here last week, you know I attended the Rally to Restore Sanity. If you didn't stop by last week, but want to read my written summary, go HERE. Read on for the pictorial summary.

This is us on Friday evening on the Metro. We rode downtown DC to check things out around the Rally area and to see some of the sites.

Capitol Building

The Washington Monument

Washington Monument

Helicopter flying to and from the White House. Was the Prez on it? We aren't sure and I didn't get a picture with this helicopter and the decoy helicopter in the same frame.

C, E and Jo

Do I really need to tell you what this is?

Rally stage from our seats.

People around us. If you are wondering what that woman's shirt says, it is "Evolve Already".

More people around us.

Jo and E

C and Jo. We could NOT get any kind of phone/text/email/web service or connections due to the other 250,000 people trying to do the same thing!

E, L, Jo and C

Yay! 1 minute 24 seconds before Jon Stewart hits the stage.

Believe it or not, Jon Stewart is on this stage.

This sign really was not at all pertinent to the rally, but it still made me laugh, a lot! And maybe a little too loudly. If you can't read it, it says, "Abstinence makes the church grow fondlers."

The streets of DC post rally.

I still have two stories to tell. One of me calling an ape faced (literally. he had a full ape face mask on.) 20 something an asshole to his face along with some other "discussion points" to go with it. Also, the story of me totally losing my shit in the Metro station when it was crammed with me, my gal pals and these 250,000 people. That will be my next, and probably final, post about the Rally. Then it will be back to my regular boring material.

Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear - It was an (in)SANE amount of fun!

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Tue, 02 Nov 2010 00:42:00 +0000

It has been two days since the rally and I am going to have a hard time writing this post. If you are like me, then you understand how difficult it is to come away from something so large (in size and impact), so fun, so overwhelming (in a good way) and then put it into words; to organize my thoughts, to remember what all I saw, to put my feelings into a description that someone else would understand. The reality is, the only people who really get it are the people who were there. I don't know if I can get all my thoughts and interactions into one post. Maybe I can. If not, I will do a couple of posts. Hopefully I will be able to convey to you what this experience was like for me.

I attended the rally with three girlfriends. We drove to DC, leaving early Friday morning. Eight hours in the car with four slap happy women can lead to a lot of interesting conversations. On Saturday, we got up before the sun and were at the rally, along with 1,000s already, at around 7:30AM. We were leaving DC at about 7:30PM. We were home at 3:30AM Sunday morning. On top of all that, I came down with strep throat on Thursday. Thank goodness for really strong antibiotics.

The morning of the rally, we picked up a young guy, Vincent, on the Metro who ended up hanging with us throughout the day. Once there, we scouted our spots, with only a little bickering among the four of us. We can do that and still like each other. Because we are sane. We were stage left, at the front of the viewing area right behind the VIP section and we were excited! We could see the stage plus we could see the jumbotron!

We enjoyed the morning reading signs, people watching, chatting with those around us, watching the Jon Stewart/Stephen Colbert shows that led up to the announcement of the rallies and Colbert asking to join Jon Stewart and make it one rally. There was music. And some pot smoking, not by us and not necessarily in that order.

There were families, there were young people, there were old people (I saw one elderly woman with a cane!), and every age in between. There were couples, there were people in groups and people alone. As I mentioned, we met Vincent. He decided at the last minute on Friday to drive up from Knoxville and no one could go on such short notice. So he came alone. Once we secured our seats, we met a woman about my mom's age who was there alone, from Texas. She had been in DC the few days before for work and decided to stay and go to the rally. Her employer made her promise she would not wear any clothing that would identify them.

While the rally was mostly comedy, of course the message of sanity vs. fear was all throughout. Imagine watching a live show, not knowing what is next. Jon Stewart wants to ride the Peace Train and cueYusef Islam (formerly Cat Stevens) coming out to sing. At this point I was trying to call my husband because CAT STEVENS is singing Peace Train and I am there to see it!!!! However, when Stephen Colbert insists he does not have a ticket on the peace train and he has no plans to get one, but feels much safer on the Crazy Train, cue Ozzy Osbourne's entrance, I quickly hung up the phone and starting jumping up and down and screaming my lungs out like a schoolgirl! Oh my, I can't tell you how much we were enjoying this show. Colbert and Stewart finally both agree, however, that while one won't ride the peace train and the other won't ride the crazy train, they can willingly ride the Love Train together, cue the O'Jays entrance, and the point of the rally is made, once again. Work together, without yelling, screaming, hating, name calling. Listen to others who have different viewpoints to make things happen, to get things done. Without yelling, screaming, hating, name calling. The entertainment of Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert continued along with their guests. Sheryl Crow and Kid Rock performed together, Tony Bennett sang, John Legend entertained us early on, Jeff Tweedy (from Wilco) and Mavis Staples performed a duet. The Roots played for about 40 minutes or so. Sam Waterston read a poem written by Stephen Colbert. Father Guido Sarducci gave the "benediction". I may be forgetting someone.

The most serious moment was Jon Stewart's closing. If you haven't seen it, go HERE. Really, go there. It's good. It's about 10 minutes. Here are some of my favorites from the speech:

The country’s 24 hour political pundit perpetual panic conflictinator did not cause our problems but its existence makes solving them that much harder. The press can hold its magnifying glass up to our problems bringing them into focus, illuminating issues heretofore unseen or they can use that magnifying glass to light ants on fire and then perhaps host a week of shows on the sudden, unexpected dangerous flaming ant epidemic. If we amplify everything we hear nothing.

and:

If the picture of us were true, of course our inability to solve problems would actually be quite sane and reasonable. Why would you work with Marxists actively subverting our Constitution or racists and homophobes who see no one’s humanity but their own? We hear every damn day about how fragile our country is—on the brink of catastrophe—torn by polarizing hate and how it’s a shame that we can’t work together to get things done, but the truth is we do. We work together to get things done every damn day!

The only place we don’t is here [meaning DC] or on cable TV. But Americans don’t live here or on cable TV. Where we live our values and principles form the foundations that sustain us while we get things done, not the barriers that prevent us from getting things done. Most Americans don’t live their lives solely as Democrats, Republicans, liberals or conservatives. Americans live their lives more as people that are just a little bit late for something they have to do—often something that they do not want to do—but they do it--impossible things every day that are only made possible by the little reasonable compromises that we all make.

and:

Because we know instinctively as a people that if we are to get through the darkness and back into the light we have to work together. And the truth is, there will always be darkness. And sometimes the light at the end of the tunnel isn’t the promised land. Sometimes it’s just New Jersey. But we do it anyway, together.

I will end with one more thing. My mama (and dad) sit pretty far to the right on the political spectrum. There are some things we agree on, but many we do not - not just politically, but socially, morally, etc. My mama knew I was going and I told her she could watch it live. Lo and behold, she did. And this is what she emailed me when it was over:

We taped the show, Dad will watch it later but I watched it live. He [Jon] is great, so real! I wish we would have been there to appreciate his appreciation of our great country.

This little blog entry does not even come close to doing justice to the day. I wish I was a much better writer to be able to give you the feel of the day, to make YOU feel like you were there. But I'm not, so I can't.
I am sorry for that.

Come back next time for pictures, sharing of signs, the story about how I called a young man dressed as an ape an asshole, directly to his ape face and a little story about me almost going into full blown hysteria in a crowded Metro station.

I am caught.

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Thu, 21 Oct 2010 16:52:00 +0000

Before you get your panties in a wad, I did not cheat on my husband. It's worse. I cheated on my hair stylist. As all women know, breaking up with a hairstylist is hard to do, so it's easier to just disappear into the wild blue yonder, never to be seen again. To move on to the newer, younger model. That's what I did and I didn't expect to get caught.

I had a hairstylist I liked. She was good, she was very close to my home (this is key) and she was reasonably priced. Then she switched salons. To the other side of town. This is not a huge ordeal except that the area she moved to required I drive on the busiest, most hated road in my neck of the woods to get to her neck of the woods. I avoid this road at all costs unless it's an early weekend morning or late at night. Since I am rarely out at either of those times, it's a given that I rarely set my car wheels on this road. So between that and the fact that my hair cuts were "good" but not "great", I decided to search closer to home. I found someone who met all the factors - good, close to home, reasonably priced. I have been very happy with her and have sent her quite a bit of business.

A friend of mine still goes to my previous stylist and told me she was moving to a new location again. A little closer to us, but now ON that most hated road. I was not swayed.

Now I just found out my current salon is closing and all the stylists are moving. To the same location as my ex-stylist. See? See why the "fading into the wild blue yonder" is not going to work? How can I possibly go to this new salon, with my "newer, younger model" stylist and risk seeing my ex-stylist, who I didn't officially break up with. I just tried disappearing and it.didn't.work.

My husband thinks this is all silly. It's "business" and it happens all the time. "Clients come and go, no matter what the business is. Just say 'hi' to her and keep going." As a massage therapist, I totally get this. And it doesn't bother me if a client starts seeing one of my colleagues. Really, it doesn't. So I should be able to apply that to this situation, right? But I will have to SEE her and feel like I need to explain myself. I will stumble over my words, make a fool of myself and maybe even shed a tear of shame.

I am not good at this cheating thing.

How to get a van of teenage boys to be totally silent.

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Wed, 20 Oct 2010 17:57:00 +0000

I was listening to some tunes today on my iPod and one of my all time favorites came on. It's Metro by Berlin. This song was popular in the 80's, so depending on your age, you may not be familiar with it. I highly suggest you check it out.

Anyway, it came on a while back. I didn't realize I had downloaded the live version. I had my 13 yr. old and a couple of his friends in the van with me when it came on. I had turned it up and was jammin' away and they were busy chatting amongst themselves. Towards the end of the song, the lead singer screams into the microphone, "You know what the greatest thing about being a woman is? The older we get, the better sex is!" There was already a lull in the teenage boy conversation, and this comment made that lull turn into an eternal silence. I had to turn to look out the window to keep from giggling. They were all just sitting there staring straight ahead pretending like they hadn't heard anything. They had uncomfortable looks in their eyes and were wriggling in there seats. I think they were each trying to plan there escape from my van.

When it became clear that none of these boys intended on saying another word, I started talking. They were very relieved. Now I guess I should delete that version of the song from my iPod.

Do they have hormone therapy for this?

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Tue, 19 Oct 2010 19:27:00 +0000

I have lots and lots of friends with girls. I hear moms say all the time about how difficult the teen years are for girls - the moodiness, the crying, the yelling, the hair pulling. I remember how difficult those days were.

I have all boys. I thought I would miss out on the above drama.

I was wrong. Well, except for the hair pulling (unless of course you include the occasional tug one makes on another's hair during a wrestling match).

My 13 year old is unpredictable. Sweet, talkative, willing to help one minute. The next minute? Run for cover.

The other day we were having a nice chat about school, a project he was working on, upcoming fun stuff. I asked him to do something. Something simple. Like put away the milk or throw away a napkin. Oh.my.god. His head spun around like Linda Blair and I am pretty sure he started to salivate. Then came the barrage of words, "What? You are SO mean! No one else's mom asks them to do stuff like that. Why do you read my Facebook stuff? You are stalking my friends! No one else's mom does that. Why can't I have a laptop? Everyone else has one. I can't believe you expect me to pay for half of a laptop if I want one. How dare you. If you loved me you would go buy one right this instant." These are not exact quotes during this specific conversation, but they have pretty much all been said at some inapporpriate point in time.

I seriously think I am going to look into bio-identical hormone therapy for moody teen boys. In the meantime, if you all hear of anything that doesn't include boot camp, please let me know!

Who's in need of a good night of sleep?

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Mon, 11 Oct 2010 14:57:00 +0000

Fadra, at all.things.fadra, is giving away a Tempur Cloud Tempurpedic Supreme Mattress. For anyone who does not know Fadra, let me tell you, she is the luckiest person I have ever met. I think I should have rubbed up against me at BlogHer to see if some of that luck would rub off on me. Yes, it would have looked weird, but who really cares? Thousands of bloggers registered at BlogHer to win this awesome mattress. Did I win? No. I think you can guess who did. Fadra. I won't even go into the list of things she has won in the short time since we first met on that August morning at BlogHer.

Anyway, as you can see from this entry and from my video below - I.want.to.win.

So here is the video I am entering in hopes of winning this awesome prize!

Where everybody knows your name...

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Thu, 07 Oct 2010 12:15:00 +0000

Maybe not everybody knows my name, but one guy does. There is a restaurant I go to on a regular basis. I tend to prefer mom and pop type places, but this one is a chain. Abuelo's. Yum. My family is not big on Mexican food, but I love it. So I pop in here at least once a moth for lunch. By myself. With a book. It never fails I get the same waiter or I at least sit near his section and he stops to say hello. I get the same thing every time and he knows it. I don't even really have to order, he just comes up and verifies that I want what I want.

It feels kind of freaky. Like I have some kind of OCD tendencies with Abuelo's. Same food. Same drink. Always a book. Always alone. Always clean my plate. Pay the same amount every time. I often wonder if the staff sees me coming and they say to one another, "Here comes that weird woman. You know, the crazy one,"? I wonder what he would do if I came in with a friend, because I think he thinks I have no friends. Or if I ordered something different. Or if I didn't have a book. Maybe he's a little OCD, too, and it would set him off in some kind of panic attack, crying in the corner while sucking his thumb.

I think it's better if I just stick to my routine. We'll all feel better.

(I will be absent for a few days due to THIS.)

And so it continues...

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Mon, 04 Oct 2010 12:58:00 +0000

Though the Great BlogHer Wipeout of 2010 happened two months ago, the story continues. I have been having physical therapy twice a week. Have you ever been to physical therapy? It hurts. And I am jealous of all those people with feet disorders, like plantar fasciitis, who get to go there and do some stretching and then get a 15 minute foot massage. I start drooling when I see those people getting a foot rubdown and I want to push them off the table and stick my foot in the hands of the PT. Anyway, I made huge improvements the first few weeks and then seemed to come to a standstill. Plus my arm was hurting and aching on a regular basis. I let my PTs know, but we thought it was just sore from, well, from being broken and dislocated. However, I then started noticing how much it hurt down in the joint. I was not improving in my flexion and extension. I saw the surgeon again. An x-ray confirmed that the bone fragments that broke off of the humerus bone, the ones we were hoping would be secured and stuck in scar tissue, had floated down into the joint and the cartilage. Ouch! The result of all this - surgery. So that will be this week and then I am back to physical therapy. I wonder if while my arm is in a cast if I can swing into the PTs office for a foot massage?

One of these days, I hope to return to work. I am sure by now all of my massge therapy clients have moved on to other therapists! Thankfully, my employer is very flexible. When I do return, it will be at my own pace and at my own desired schedule.

You say it's your birthday? Well, it's my birthday, too!

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Fri, 01 Oct 2010 11:48:00 +0000

Though I have no problem tooting my own birthday horn, that is not what I am going to write about today. Well, not directly anyway.

I grew up with a boy. I have known him since kindergarten. We graduated HS together. He was the first boy to give me a kiss. In kindergarten. We have always been friends. We don't have a lot in common any more, but I do love it when I run into him when we happen to be in our hometown at the same time, usually for some kind of reunion.

I have a good friend that I met in HS. We graduated together and went on to college together. We live hours apart now, but still talk several times a year, Facebook together, and see each other a couple of times every year or two.

We all three share the same birthday. Today. Two of us are 43, and Leslie Ann is 42 (bitch!). I can guarantee you, all three of us are thinking about each other today. It was always fun sharing our birthdays together at school. Once we were in college and we would all three be home for a holiday, we'd always talk about what we did that year to celebrate. Every year, on this day, while I wallow in my own party, I wonder what they are doing. This year, thanks to FB, I will probably know, at least a little!

Though neither of them read here, I hope my birthday buddies are having a great day!