Now that I have lip cancer….

I have to tell you a little story about my friend, Jen. I’m grinning right now just thinking about her. She’s hilarious. We were at son #2’s soccer game awhile back and she takes out some lip gloss and puts in on. Then she starts talking a mile a minute and gets even faster. ”Have you tried this stuff? It’s the lip plumping stuff.” I inspected it. ”No. Does that even work?” “Oh my God! Ok. So the first time I tried it, it set my lips on fire. ON. FIRE. I tell you! I thought I was having some kind of horrible allergic reaction. It burned SO BAD! And I didn’t even know what was happening. My lips felt puffy, but that’s because I think they were swollen from whatever is in here. So I wasn’t sure it was working and WOW, it totally burned! But then I tried it again. And it totally burned again. Same thing happened, but you know? Nothing else happened so I guess it was ok. So I kept using it. Andyouknow? Ithinkitmightactuallywork. BecausenowthatIhavelipcancerIdon’tevenfeelit!”  She announces triumphantly. And then she pauses for a breath as Steve and I stare at her in horror then crack up laughing. “Look at my lips! They’re plumper aren’t they?”

So now Steve and I randomly begin sentences with “Now that I have lip cancer…..”

 

If you’re going to San Francisco, remember to wear some tie dye and a grin….

Dear Internet,

I know. I’ve been gone too long. Steve says you’re all angry and rioting with pitch forks and torches. I say get in line and take a number, people.

Trauma in the Bay
I’ve spent the last two weeks terrorized, traumatized, and much more. As you know, I went back to California for my high school reunion. My grandmother was there from Lousisana staying with my mother so I wanted to stay with my mother in order to spend more time with Grandma. I barely survived. What began as an Orlando-induced eye twitch, culminated yesterday in full crushing chest pain, dizziness and the whole heart attack symptoms again. Was it stress or lifting a wheelchair (my grandmother’s) again? I do not know, but I do know that I probably could not have survived even a few more days in the Bay Area. I came home late last night and have never been happier to see my own bed in my life.

It’s Either Broken or, um, Not
If you remember, just days before we left, son #1 fell off his scooter. The ER told us his elbow was broken. I took him the next day to the orthopedist who did his hip to have it casted. The orthopedist thought it wasn’t broken so he sent us on to California in a temporary cast. After a week, the elbow was still very swollen, badly bruised and he was still in a lot of pain, so I had to take him to our old pediatrician who told us elbows were tricky and he thought we needed to see another orthopedist. Two more sets of x-rays later and they still weren’t sure. They finally decided it was either a very severe sprain or a non-displaced (not separated) fracture and that he was to leave it in this temporary cast for a few more weeks. As of today, his pain level is pretty much under control.  Son #1 has also had a cough for six weeks and we had to start antibiotics a few days ago. I daresay this child is finally on the mend. Sigh.

You say “Tree Hugger” like it’s a Bad Thing
In case you hadn’t figured it out, I was the rebel in the family. The black sheep, if you will. Right before we left, son #1 was talking to my father on the phone and my dad told him they could watch Pirates of the Carribean at his house. And of course, I immediately vetoed a PG-13 movie for the kids. My dad then demanded to speak to me, at which time he called me a tree hugger and hung up. So I did what any rebel would do. I dressed my children in tie dye, jeans and sandals to head back to California. My dad almost had a stroke over the tie dye and I had an ear to ear grin because I knew the effect it would have on him. If he’s going to call me a hippie tree hugger, then I’m afraid he’s going to have to pay for that comment. All day long yesterday he complained about the boys’ tie dye shirts. And all day long I grinned about it.

Old People, Chocolate, and Control Freaks
The family stuff going on with my Grandma is….well, I don’t want to say too much about it. There’s a lot going on and since this is a public forum, what’s going on now is better left unsaid for now. Suffice it to say, I ended up so upset a few times by stuff my mother is doing, I was unable to speak from sobbing so hard. The constant tension was palpable. My grandmother and I ended up always having to sneak around like errant teenagers. The kids and I snuck her out of the house and took her to ice cream a few times when my mother had told her she couldn’t go (for no particular reason I might add, except to exercise control). My grandmother is not diabetic, if you were wondering. She loves sweets and I felt an old lady has earned herself some junk food. I bought her chocolate and milk shakes and made her cake. She snuck into my room yesterday morning and asked me to help her hide the chocolate I had bought her in her purse. My mother took her back home to Louisiana yesterday and she wanted to take the chocolate with her. Hiding chocolate in every suitcase, nook and cranny was no easy task. My dad said that much to my mother’s annoyance, Grandma spent most of the plane trip home eating chocolate. I love my grandmother so fiercely. You just could not possibly imagine what I put up with to be with her. Was it worth it? Every second I get to spend with her is worth any price. So yeah, it was worth it. I only wish she lived closer. Or with me. But I’ll take what I can get.

Senior Moment Day
I still haven’t been able to get a firm handle on how I felt about the reunion. I suppose I’m just going to have to be content with saying it was a mixed bag. High school was such a difficult time for me. It was the most trying period in my life. I moved out at 15 (yes, my mother is that difficult) so I was in such a different place in high school. I had to worry about where I was sleeping that night and where my next meal would come from. All the while on the outside, appearing to be a normal teenager. I did my share of drinking too. Although, at my high school, alcohol was a staple. They showed a movie someone took of “Senior Cut Day” and Steve was appalled at the amount of drugs and alcohol so readily available and in use at our high school. I had tried to describe it to him before, but it’s really hard to understand unless you were there. Sadly, I had to lean over and ask one of my friends if I had even been at Senior Cut Day because it wasn’t ringing a lot of bells for me. She assured me I was. Luckily there was no photographic evidence of my indiscretions.

Like Peter Pan, but Fatter and Uglier
I think the toughest part of going to this reunion was the realization that some people had not moved on since high school. There were people there so shamefully drunk I was shocked. It’s clear that many of them are still “partyin’ hard.” Get a grip, people. You’re 38 years old. One of the biggest partyers in our class suggested we go to his mom’s house and get a keg. My mouth dropped open when he said that. I almost said, “Dude. We’re old now. And you need to lay off the booze because you got some serious junk in the trunk. Also I think you killed one too many brain cells and may only have one left. You might need that one.”

The Sad Tale of the Lonely, Bitter Cat Lady
And then there were the bitter, single women. One in particular that I couldn’t stand in high school was particularly ugly and bitter now. Time hasn’t been kind to her. I walked in the bathroom and she was standing at the mirror and sees me and says in her most snotty tone ”You hair used to be (emphasize extreme distaste here) RED. Did you, like, dye it?” I debated whether it was worth choking the life out of her right there in the bathroom, but decided I might mess up my manicure. So I hit her angry bitterness where it hurts: “It got darker with each pregnancy.” And then I turned around and walked out the bathroom. In broad daylight, my hair is still very auburn, but under the dim lights there, I imagine it appeared quite a bit darker. I’ve never dyed my hair in my life. And I don’t have the time or energy to engage with someone who still acts like a bitchy teenager. Hard livin’ and too much time in the sun had not been kind to many people there.

Separate Ways, Worlds Apart
I had thought that the reunion would be a great time to reconnect with people I had lost track of. What I realized once I got there though, was that it was really fun seeing some of the people I had been close to, but honestly, 20 years have passed. I’ve stayed in touch with the people that I really want to stay in touch with. And while it was great seeing some of them, it’s not like I’m going to pick up the phone and we’re going to pick up where we left off. There were a handful of girlfriends that I really enjoyed seeing and catching up with, but the reality is that come Monday, we all go back to our lives as they are now. The past is gone. We knew each other a lifetime ago. And some of us knew each other really well and still know each other on that level that is so hard to achieve in adult friendships. But we can’t go back. We can only go forward. I had a hard time seeing the value in opening myself up again to stuff that’s long been buried. And I’m not the same person I was. Not even close. I find that with people who knew you so long ago, that when you re-connect, they often have a hard time seeing the person you’ve become. I’m a thinking kinda person. I expect that many people don’t even bother to think about these things nor observe. And I admit that even though 20 years have passed, I still strongly dislike some people I disliked back then. I thought I was guilty of just carrying around baggage until twice Steve leaned over and said “Was that guy a huge tool in high school too?” Lol. Maybe some people don’t change. I just thought maybe I wasn’t looking hard enough.

Click your heels three times…
So as I sit here I am still trying to unwind, process and decompress. I had only been there three days when Steve flew in for the weekend to go to the reunion. As I’m driving him to my parent’s house from the airport, he looks at me and says “This place is already affecting you.” So true, honey. So true……

 

My Fuddruckers still hurts…

My internet time is so limited right now, I sometimes can’t even read my email for days at a time. Hotels want my first born to get online. We’ve moved from Cocoa Beach into Orlando. We ended up finding an excellent Indian restaurant in Cocoa Beach and I had my first decent hot meal since we got here. I found a “health food store” (that’s what they still call them here in the South) and ate ready-to-eat food from there for a few days. I noticed it was the same store someone recommended in the comments. I finally was able to find something edible.

I’ve been a vegetarian for so long now that should my food become contaminated with meat, I get severe, vicious, gastrointestinal distress. Within an hour I get wicked stomach cramps that are so bad they hurt in my back and I literally am doubled over. Then I get nausea so bad, I usually spend several hours with my head hanging over a garbage can, barf bucket or toilet, only to be assaulted shortly after by it making a speedy exit out the other end. That’s right, folks. It’s no longer a choice, it’s a necessity. I only get poisoned when we eat out. And there was a point when we first moved to Washington that I just couldn’t face eating out anymore because I become violently ill everytime we did. We’ve finally found restaurants that don’t poison me, but eating at new restaurants scares me. Eating in Orlando terrifies me.

We met our roommate from college, Tony, for dinner one night. For those of you that don’t know, Steve and I were friends, dating other people then later engaged to other people when we met in 1989. It was a year and a half later when I was looking for a place to live and Steve and Tony were looking for a roommate. It was January when I agreed to move in with them in June. By March, Steve and I had finally started dating which led to a huge complication in everyone’s living arrangements. I laid awake many nights wondering what I was going to do.

On some level, I knew Steve was the one. I even remember the day I realized it. We were invited to a BBQ at the home of his boss, Frank. Frank had a three year old boy. When we walked in the door, Frank’s son shrieked and ran from the back of the house straight at Steve and Steve scooped him up and threw him in the air while the both of them laughed. It was at that exact moment that I knew. I knew he was the one. So this decision to continue with the plans for me to move in might jeopardize this relationship. In the end, Steve and I decided to go ahead with me moving in and if at any point things got weird, I would move back out. I had my own bedroom, so we figured I would have my own space to retreat to if we needed a break. It wasn’t the ideal way to start off a relationship, but on the other hand, we knew each other pretty well by then anyway.

In fact, the three of us; Tony, Steve and I knew each other to the soul. We didn’t just live together, we spent most of our free time together because we all enjoyed each other’s company. Besides Steve, Tony probably knows me better than anyone. And when we get together when travel plans allow, it’s like no time has passed, even though we live so far apart, we have families and our lives are radically different from the days where we played pool all night in the living room and went fishing on the weekends. And the dynamic of our friendship never really changed either. It was always two against one in big arguments that often had us laughing until we cried. One time Steve told me that I had to rub lotion in until it was gone so that it would “go in deeper” and Tony and I mercilessly ridiculed Steve until he was so mad at us he stopped talking to us. In case you were wondering, I brought that argument up again when we saw Tony and Steve got mad all over again. ;D I had to inform Tony’s wife that she better stick up for herself in this crowd.

We ended up going to Fuddrucker’s for dinner with Tony. You wouldn’t believe how hard it was to get a hamburger bun with just cheese and portabella mushroom in between the bread. Sigh. By the time we got home, I realized that my mushrooms and bun must have been cooked on the grill with all the burgers because I was SICK. OMFG. As I was hanging my head over the trash can, Steve told me to just go in the bathroom and get the diarrhea over with. My stomach hurt for three days. Steve saw me holding my stomach the next day and I said “My Fuddrucker’s still hurts.” Sigh.

Last night I got Fuddruckered again and had to walk around Disneyworld bent over clutching my stomach. I swear I don’t know if I’m going to survive this trip. This time it was an Indian restuarant that I’m just shocked I got meat poisoned at. I thought I was safe at an Indian restaurant. I tightened my belt another notch today. Beware of the Fuddruckering.

 

The great naked cooking debate

I’m sittin’ here at my computer, minding my own business, eating a cracker as I go through my daily blog readings. And I get to my friend, Susan’s blog, and when I read her entry, my mouth fell open, cracker fell out my mouth, and I almost fell out my chair.

It’s because I discovered that not only does Susan naked cook, she BLOGGED that she naked cooked and well, she burned her business naked cooking. Now this concerns me on multiple levels, besides the obvious burn factor. The first thought that crossed my mind is “How often does she naked cook?’ Because Dear God, I’ve eaten her cookies. Were those cookies naked cooked? How many meals and snacks have I eaten from her house that were naked cooked? She so nonchalantly referred to this naked cooking that it can NOT be the first time. Clearly the novelty of naked cooking has worn off to the point that she does not realize the horror of naked cooking?

So obviously, I have to marshal the forces and get all our friends involved. (It’s not like I’m telling a secret here, Susan, YOU BLOGGED IT! It’s fair game!) So I sent out an email informing the public that Susan naked cooks. Susan defended herself with the following:

Some points in my defense:

1. I wasn’t cooking naked. I was merely removing a pan of delicious cookies from the oven before they burned.

2. Pot, have you met the kettle? I seem to remember you having a very similar injury when you were living here. And yes I laughed at the time. I’m not laughing now.

3. (This is the best point of all) What one of you guys (sorry ladies) wouldn’t love to have your spouse, girlfriend, etc. Serve you fresh, hot, delicious cookies while naked? Ok, some of you girls might like that treatment too.

4. I did not rub up against the food, and my hands were clean since I had just finished showering.

5. The cookies were cleaner than those cooked with clothes on since there was no lint, dust, dirt, or thread that could have fallen on them. That’s one of the reasons they make you get naked when you’re having surgery.

6. I was conserving energy since I was doing all my consumption of resources at non peak hours.

How can you argue against cleanliness (we know your fanatacism about it) and energy conservation (you are a self proclaimed tree hugger)?

And in typical, predictable fashion, the men were all about being served cookies naked. I should also point out that I do not cook naked. She clearly has me confused with someone else. And I guarantee you I would NEVER, EVER, EVER want cookies served to me with ole’ Johnson flopping around. Has Susan lost her damn mind?! My darling husband responded:

I have to admit, you had me at #3. Helen, please make the necessary arrangements.

YES, he’s getting cookies with ex-lax baked into them immediately. I asked who wanted a side of….hair……with their cookies since the men were clearly intent now on the idea of naked cooking. The only husband with an iota of sense replied:

Fast food cooks are required to wear hair-nets to keep stray hairs out of the food. So I hope you were wearing a hair-net on your head along with however many additional strategically placed nets would be needed to cover up any/all such outcroppings of fur. Or are you suggesting that only a single net on your head would be necessary to successfully mask all your plumage (wink, wink, nudge, nudge).

He’s not getting ex-lax cookies, but he might be getting slapped over trying to find out whether Susan has a Brazilian wax or not. Susan claimed that her wet head of hair was all slicked back and not in the cookies and refused to wear a hair net on her nethers. There was also some debate about whether a hair net was actually needed. The conversation degenerated further over Susan, who is a nurse, pointing out that you are naked when they do surgery on you. There was a lot of debate over this until I pointed out that only the cookies should be naked, while certain people insisted the doctors were naked too. Ok, all our friends have a few screws loose and arguments often turn to the completely unrealistic and borderline insane….Mostly due to Susan’s husband, but that’s another story altogether. But alas, once again they have tried to distract me from the fact that SUSAN COOKS NAKED! And I ask you, dear internet, am I THE ONLY ONE WHO FINDS NAKED COOKING UNACCEPTABLE?!?! 

 

I’m not dead….yet

Just wanted to let you all know I’m still alive….barely. Thursday a tremendous storm swept through the Pacific Northwest. Our power was wiped out Thursday night. We were due to leave for California on Saturday, although Seatac was closed on Friday. Temperatures were dropping into the 20s and there was no heat. We played board games by fire and candlelight with the neighbors to pass the time. We “group” cooked, as some people had no stove or hot water. We have a gas stove and water heater so I made mac and cheese. Our neighbors barbequed and we all ate together with whatever food was still good. (And not a lot I tell you!) And I was so cold, I actually drank alcohol to keep warm. Course, that made for some lively board game playing from a very mouthy me. lol. (And I did not get a migraine! WOO HOO!) So three weeks after losing all our food in one fridge, we have now lost all food in both fridges and all three freezers. Sigh. All the new replacement food I bought is bad.

At 6:10 am on Saturday morning the knock of the limo driver to take us to the airport was what woke us up. We did end up making our flight but it was close. And nearly impossible to get ready and finish packing in the dark. We ended up leaving a bunch of Christmas presents on accident.

I believe the power was restored yesterday, but have not been able to completely verify that. 24 houses in our neighborhood had trees fall on them (I will post pictures when we return to Seattle tomorrow, provided we have power.) Cars were crushed, trees blocking streets, it looked like a hurricane had come through there. Every house on our street had trees fall on it, except ours. Cranes were lifting the trees off of houses and cars at $3,000 a pop. What struck me then, as always about Washington, was in the morning, people started trickling out of their homes to survey the damage, and groups of neighbors just started working together to clean up. There is such a sense of community instead of individuals in Washinton. In California, people would be cleaning up their own houses and keeping to themselves instead of congregating at houses with the worst damage and trying to help clean up. People walked from house to house checking on each other. Those with chainsaws walked around to neighbors and started cutting up the large trunks and trees blocking the road. THIS is why I love where we live so much. It’s a part of the world still untouched by selfishness, self centeredness and hate. It’s still that proverbial village it takes to raise a family. I’ll take gray skies and rain any day to be able to live among other people like this.

I’ve got to get going, I’ll hopefully be able to answer comments and visit your blogs when we return to Seattle.

 

DB’s got the blues

Since DB has got the blues, I thought I’d write a little song. You’re going to have to imagine the music that goes with it. I have it here in my head, but it’s kinda hard to describe……

We love you DB,
Oh yes we do!
We love you DB
And we’ll be true!
When you’re not with us
We’re BLLLLUUUUUEEEEEEEE (long note there, like a high B)
Oh DB, we love you!!!!!!!!!!!!

You may post your own poem, haiku or song. Hint: DB loves haikus, he’s a traditional guy, so follow the 5-7-5 rule. Roses are red poems are acceptable too. 

 

GUILTY!

Note the person guilty of keeping me up all night. Cute but sassy. Does not play well with others. And no you can’t have her phone number. Although I’ll consider it if she tries any further shenanigans next time we go out.  

 

On friendship and loyalty…..

I prize friendship and loyalty above most other things in life. To me, your friends are the people you KNOW you can count on when the chips are down. That when everything goes wrong, as it sometimes will, you know unequivocally you can count on that friend, no questions asked.

If you’ve ever had a crisis in your life, you’ll know what I’m talking about. People you thought were your friends run for cover and disappear or worse, do the wrong thing. Even worse than that is that when they have their own agenda and put that above loyalty. I understand that people make mistakes. That things are not always as they seem, but those are the times when loyalty counts even more.

I try to surround myself with people who I know I can count on. When I was younger, it was critical for my survival. As an adult, I have little tolerance for any deviation from these certain qualities in people that could have been so detrimental to me as a teen. I left home when I was 15 and have had a tumultuous relationship with my family ever since. I had a very difficult adolescence. It’s very tough to be 15 and worry about where your next meal is coming from and where you’re going to sleep. It’s tough to work, support yourself, and go to school when your peers are worrying about who kissed who and what they’re wearing to the prom.

I see the world in black and white. People you can count on, people you can’t. I have a very difficult time seeing and appreciating the grays. Steve tries to teach me all the time that people can have good qualities and then be not so good at stuff, but I see a liar as a liar, a traitor as a traitor, and there’s just no in-betweens for me. I can still be civil, even maintain a casual friendship, but once someone has let me down, it’s never the same.  I put them on a mental black list and write them off forever. Then we drift apart and that’s ok for me. I’ve let many friendships die. Just walked away and never looked back because I know that when hell breaks loose, that person is not someone I want watching my back. And hell likes to break loose a lot in my life.

I have a friend who really taught me how to be a friend, and then when things went wrong, she let me down. We’ve drifted apart. It’s the way it has to be. Because I know if my life’s hanging in the balance as it so often did when I was younger, I don’t want to have to rely on her. She could get me hurt or killed. I can’t stop with the siege mentality. I know that I’m an adult now, I know that I do not need people to be true or reliable or trustworthy or loyal in every situation, and yet, I can not turn that survival instinct off.

Unfortunately, it’s very short list of people I truly know I can count on. I have friends that do not know that I am aware of what I would term as a massive betrayal of our friendship. I go on casually but know that I will never, ever be able to trust them again. I spent the early part of life learning hard lessons and learning to read people quickly. I rely on perceptiveness and gut instinct more than anything people say or do. Tell me you did the right thing when it counted, but if I happen to know differently, I will never trust you again.

A friend of mine called me late last night as I was climbing into bed. She’s one of those friends I know I can count on no matter what ever happens. I was exhausted. I’ve had a long, hard, exhausting week. I needed sleep. But I talked to her for 2 hours until my phone battery died. Why? Because it’s about loyalty. It’s about friendship. It’s about being there when someone needs you to listen. Or needs your shoulder to cry on. Or needs your help. It’s about putting friendship, loyalty, and trust before yourself. Because that’s what friends do.