In Which Woolly Tights Save the Day

I just read a blog of a very funny woman.  I've been stalking it and commenting occasionally, so it isn't true stalking.  She lives outside London with her partner and two kids and she is totally British in her humor.  She relayed a story of being in nursery school and so adamant about not decorating the tree that she stayed in a corner and peed herself.  This reminded me of one of my pee stories.  Yes, there are more.

I can remember a few events in kindergarten that stand out, mostly, because I got in trouble.  The first time was when I locked my sister in the play oven.  The second time was when I was unable to nap on my rug with the rest of the class, so I took off my shoes and slid across the floor in my socks.  I suppose this kept the others from sleeping, so I was back in the corner, again.  The third time isn't memorable because I got in trouble, but more of a close one.

We would have music sessions occasionally and one day, Mr. Guitar Man came to play.  I remember having to pee and waiting until a song was finished.  Then I really had to pee and just as I raised my hand, Mr. Guitar Man asked for a volunteer.  He called on me and I was confused.  Should I say no, I have to pee, or should I go up with him, because it was so dang special to be with Mr. GM.  I went up front thinking I could hold on.  Mr GM wanted me to hold his guitar while he played an accordion. How cool is that?  I panicked because I didn't think I could hold it but  I nonchalantly placed the guitar in front of me and slowly let go.  It was such a relief, I just didn't care.  My little red woolly tights filled with moisture and spilled into my shoes and onto the floor, but I didn't move.  When the pumping of the accordion was over, he took the guitar back and I carefully sat down in my wee (pun intended) chair.  Just then, Mr. Guitar/Accordion Man, noticed the small puddle on the floor.  He told Mrs. Weldon, my teacher, and they spent time looking at the ceiling tiles.  She had one of my classmates clean up the "water" and it was a boy I didn't like, so I laughed a little. 

Sitting in a pool of one's own pee is not comfortable.  I remember being cold and thinking maybe I could take off the sodden tights, but I knew that everyone would know what I did, so I just suffered.  Fortunately, we didn't do anything more that day requiring much action.  The two blocks walking home was terrible and I quickly changed my clothes.  My mom never noticed anything, so I figured I was safe.

The next day, a janitor came into our classroom and got up a a huge ladder to check the ceiling.  He was there for a long time and then left.  We next heard someone on the roof (in the pouring rain) for some time.  I don't remember what resulted, but I was so glad that nobody knew it was me, the real reason for the ceiling leak.

Years later, I relayed the story to my friends and family and still marvel at how nobody realized I was a big pee puddle in kindergarten.  I think it explains my preference to wear woolly tights when presented with unfamiliar social situations.

I Got Me Some Culture

So, back to the face, which is what this blog is all about.  I went back to Dr. Flip-Flop and whined some more.  He showed me the MRI of my brain which indicated (in his words), that it is "stone cold normal".  He pointed out some calcium in an artery, again normal, and showed me the spot where MS is diagnosed.  He told me if I had white sprinkles in the area, it would indicate the disease.  Again, stone cold normal. 

Okay, normal is not my face pain.  I am operating on a 7 out of 10 most days and it is difficult to go outside because I know I will be on fire.  He was most understanding and said that there is another option before I try yet another drug.  He ordered 20 mg of Paxil in addition to the 400 mg of Lyrica.  I must of looked skeptical because he said, "I know, you're not depressed, but sometimes these drugs interact and can really help.  It's worth a try for a month."

The pain subsides some when I can be engaged in doing something I need to concentrate on, like golfing, carting or a good book. So, I try to stay as busy as I can, which is why I agreed to see the musical play, "Pippin" and then the Nutcracker.  The play was three days after my new med cocktail and I felt pretty good sitting through the two hour performance.  I got home late, but fell asleep easily.  The next day, I took my niece, Leah, to see the Nutcracker.  My sister had learned the hard way that the concession didn't open for the schoolkids' attendance.  Not even beverages, but there were drinking fountains.  Okay, I can go three hours without water. (You couldn't pay me enough to drink anywhere those germ laden midgets might have been.)

Lily had packed snacks for us, so I figured that although it was noon and I had a good breakfast, I could nibble and be okay without water.  Yeah, until I saw what she packed;  chips, crackers, and beef jerky.  Why didn't she just throw in a salt shaker, too?  But, surprisingly, this was okay and all was well.  The performance began and even though there were lots of "shhhh"ing going on by parents, coughing, sneezing, loud crying and general uninterest by mostly male children, I enjoyed the show.  I only glared at the boy kicking my seat once and decided to ignore him and his snotty nosed brother.  I wondered at all of this.  Then I realized that my face didn't hurt, much.  Probably a 4 out of 10.  Remarkable.  Less pain and more tolerance.  I like this new med mix, yes, I do.  I had no desire to yell, "Shut up, you Fucktard" to the more boisterous and I even ate some crackers.

What was really telling was my calm while driving in the Mercer mess on the way home.  I was polite, letting cars merge and not inwardly fuming at the delays.  Normally, I would be yelling, "Go, you Pigfuckers!", but I didn't.  Of course, having one's nine year old niece in the car is somewhat preventative, but really, I just grooved with the flow.

So today was the real test.  I went  to see my friends' horse and spend time with her in the freezing could for about 2 hours.  No pain!!!!  I can't believe it!  It's quite a relief.

I'm thinking about lobbying for Paxil in our nation's water supply.

Merry Crapping Christmas

I can't believe that this picture turned out.  We went to the Woodmark Hotel to see Santa Paws and donate to the Seattle King County Humane Society.  Thank God Lorie came along to handle Lucky because every one of these beasts were out of control.  My Mom was to meet us there at 11 AM.

I sewed reindeer antlers covered with lights on their halters and they did fine with them.  I assumed they would poop in the trailer on the way, so inside, it wouldn't be an issue.  We trotted in and saw some friends who had brought their puppies for the pictures.  The Mister was handling DogGus while he tried to lunge and play while dragging his dad all around.  I led Trusty to registration where he was mobbed and some parents tried to set their kids on him.  We gently discouraged that and while I filled out paperwork, Trusty was busy rooting around under the table and low and behold, started crunching on an apple that someone had left.  As I ran to get towels to clean up his slobber, Lucky looked like he was going to pee.  Nope, he just lifted his tail and shot out some milkduds. I grabbed a bag and quickly sponged up the balls;  "It's just grass, people, just grass."  Gus is barking at the puppies and Trusty is just chomping and drooling away. If you look closely, you can see the towel under Santa's feet.  I forgot it.

So we were waiting for my mom to show up and I thought we'd take them outside a bit.  Trusty refused to go out the door because he now had to shoot some malt balls.  Grabbed some bags and took care of that.  I figured all was good and we went back into the library area.  People were taking pictures, so we posed for a bit and then Lucky shot some more out.  Did I mention that he was a total fool with Lorie, biting her and trying to rear?  He is a trouble maker, that one.  I cleaned up one more time and then Ron, the Banquet Manager introduced himself to me.  I assumed he wanted a picture, but no, he told me, "I love livestock, I really do, but I have weddings here later and it's starting to smell like a barn."  Translation, "Get out."  So we packed up and trudged up the hill and met my mom and brother coming towards us.  She said they stopped for coffee for him and that they were going to Kidd Valley for lunch.  So much for meeting me there for a picture at 11 AM.

I was exhausted when we got home and took a long nap.  Total clusterf**k.