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.

Thanksgiving Eve

I made an appointment with Dr. Flip-Flop, the Neurosuergon who is unfashionably concious.  My face has been acting up, especially in the upper gums where it feels as though razor blades are slicing.

I told him my current dose of Lyrica (now 400 mg) and he said that we needed to add a boost and order a MRI because things should be quieting down, not acting up.

He gave me a muscle relaxer of sorts that I am supposed to take once a day for a week, then twice and day and up to three times a day.  I took half and took a very long nap.  That shit is powerful!  It works really well because I just sleep through the pain.  I need to work with it a bit more, I think.

MRI on Friday, I'm pretty sure they'll see a sinus infection, as usual.

Well, I'm thankful for the drugs and the technology and all the food I've made for T-giving.

Can We Pretend That Didn't Happen?

I had the perfect day planned today.  I slept in while the Mister fed the boys and had a nice breakfast while reading the paper.  I put the hairy beasts out on some grass and shaved my legs.  Of course, this took some time because this is the season to hair up, so the mowing was tough.  The only reason I would ever attempt this is because I had a massage scheduled.  Followed by a facial.

Aaaahh, bliss.  Day at the Spa.  Warm table, low lights, vague whale like soothing music and such.  Fortunately, I had the same therapist (is that what they're called?  I don't know) for both treatments and didn't have to do the whole, my-face-is-kinda-tender-yes-I-know-and-okay-here-is-the-story-one-more-frickin'-time spiel.  Such a warm, soothing, professional manner.  I enjoy it when they don't talk too much and she was just right.

I settle in and the Professional is gently massaging nicely.  All is well until she does the elbow to the buttocks move.  I will myself to try to relax, but really, how can you do that when a pointy bone is jabbing your butt?  Looking back, I realize that I must have been clenching my butt during this move, so really, the intake of excess air is her fault.  She moves on, thank God, and the remaining rub about is wonderful. 

I am now ready for the facial.  I have my face covered with warm towels and enjoy several applications of sheep placenta and weasel urine guaranteed to make my scars instantly disappear.  I'm pretty sure that the Professional gets a commission on this stuff.  Anyway, she is massaging away and I hear this loud wet ripping noise.  She startles at the same time that I realize that this sound is coming from me!!!  I mean really, how does this happen that I don't know that I need to fart?  It was so loud that my Whoopee Cushion was a whisper in comparison.  It reminded me of my mom when she does the fart walk.  You know the one, every second step she just crashed them out and pretends that nobody's ears are ringing.  OMG!!!  I'm turning into my mom!!!  All this flies through my mind during the The Silence of at least five seconds (even the crooning whales stopped in astonishment).  I knew she heard me, so I just said, "Um, can we pretend that didn't happen?"  She continued rubbing some grasshopper guts on my cheeks and said, "You'd be surprised how often that happens."  I think we were both glad that there was a blanket covering me.  Then, for some reason, I thought of my friend who was riding her horse when she suddenly farted, the noise being amplified and spooking the horse!  I started laughing uncontrollably and the Professional stopped, certain that I was a lunatic.  I couldn't explain how funny it is to scare a horse with a fart, so I just said, "Wow, and here I thought you had a glamorous job."  I mean, really, how dumb is that?  But it was the best I could do to explain my hysteria.  I did for a second think, I could just get up and run, but then I remembered I was butt assed (or is it buck assed?  I don't really know) naked and how would that look?

Thankfully, she places cotton balls over my eyes and says she'll step out while the mask does magic.

I know what she is really doing.  She is hoping I'm fluffing the blanket and that there is no brown spot for her to see when I leave.  That and she is telling her coworkers what happened.

I swear there was a "knowing" look passed between the girls up front when I was leaving.  Yes, henceforth, it shall be noted on my permanent record that I am a "Farter".  I'll get the lamest therapist from now on because who would want to be in the room with me?  I sure wouldn't.

Turds Don't Clean Themselves, You Know

I frequent my local Bridle Trails shopping area because it's good to buy local and I know mostly friendly people who work there.  I like all the people at the Red Apple and love the pharmacist, Dennis, at Bartells.  The postmistress, Anna, there is very funny and Shelby, the pharmacy cashier, is quite nice, too.  Then there is Fat Sally.  She frightens me because she is big and loud.  If her voice were written, it would be all caps.  Me:  "Hi, Sally, how are you?"  F.S.:  "ME?  WELL I'M PRETTY GOOD, GOSHDARN IT ALL, THANKS FOR ASKING!!!!!", as I hold my ear closest to her and run.  Her voice echoes throughout the store and she talks to everyone at earsplitting volume. "SAY, THAT'S A REAL GOOD DEAL ON THAT HEMORRHOID CREAM, HUH?  WAY TO STOCK UP AND BE SMART!!"

Yesterday, I took the horse boys for a walk and decided to walk all the way to the store.  I made it to the first door of the Red Apple and was mobbed by mostly the checkers, who brought apples and carrots.  Kids, old people and curious dogs kept us with tons of questions and petting.  I started to worry a bit, because the boys hadn't pooped for some time.  I walked down the sidewalk outside Bartells, the automatic door opened and Fat Sally saw me and bellowed out the door, "HEY THERE!  WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT!!!  WAIT, LET ME CALL EVERYBODY!!!!"  As I kept, walking, copious amounts of milkduds squirted from Lucky.  I panicked and dragged them quicker as Trusty dumped a pile outside of Ace Hardware.  OMG!!  Quick, before anybody sees, because of course, I'll just nonchalantly stroll off and no one would expect it came from the two miniature horses walking by.  Just as Trusty finishes, I hear F.S. scream, "HEY GIRL!!!  THEM HORSES DUMPED OUT HERE!  WHERE YOU GOING????!!!"  I managed to get them in a trot and we hightailed it home.

Yes, I could have gone back to Red Apple and grabbed produce bags, but I didn't think of that until half way home.  Instead, I threw them in their paddock, grabbed a broom, dustpan and plastic bags and drove back.  The poop outside of Bartells was gone. The huge pile outside of Ace remained, apparently unnoticed by all.  I quickly swept it up and walked into Bartells with my tools and the bag.  F.S. was at the cash register and I meekly said, "I'm so sorry, I didn't have anything to clean that up, and I see someone else did."  "YEAH, THE GUY FROM OUT BACK CAME UP AND SAID, "HOW CAN SHE WALK AROUND AND LET THEM DO THAT AND EXPECT EVERYBODY TO NOT MIND?"  BOY, HE WAS MAD, I'M TELLING YOU AND HERE YOU ARE NOW, DON'T BE THINKING WE'LL TAKE THAT MESS, TOO."  Okay, I was just a bit taken aback and confused until I realized she thought I was bringing in Trusty's poop for her to take.  "No, this was outside of Ace, I just cleaned it up and was going to get the rest of it."    "WELL, I'LL TELL HIM YOU CAME BACK THEN AND I HOPE HE WON'T BE MAD, YOU KNOW SAYING SORRY DIDN'T GET THEM TURDS CLEANED UP." 

I don't know if I'll ever go there again. 

Momisms

I like hanging out with my Mom.  We mostly go to doctor and dentist appointments with the occasional hairdresser thrown in.  She prefers the stylist at her assisted living facility because she's cheap, but she really does get what she pays for.  Anyway, she's happy and could be healthier but I'm thinking that's a lost cause because she loves to eat.  She does make unusual observations sometimes, so I always have those to enjoy on our outings.

It struck me funny today when she was telling me a story about a woman in her house that insisted that her husband was home and she could call him.  He was in Italy, but she was firmly convinced he was right around the corner.  Now, that kind of dementia isn't funny, but I reminded Mom on how adamant she is when she tells me that Sears is out of business.  She has told me this at least three times, even after we have physically been there within the last two months.  I said to her today, "Mom, remember that fleece vest from Lands End?"  "Oh, yes, I will wear it this winter and for the rest of my life.."  "Well, Lands End is at Sears."  Big pause....."But it's not on Aurora Avenue."  I don't think this signifies that my mom has dementia, just fairly well set in her opinions and will not be swayed.

One of her lifelong sayings is often repeated between my sister and me.  When she finds a high priced item, like a piece of furniture or a coat, she always says, "I will own this for the rest of my life."  Really?  That's the justification?  I think it's what hoarders say.  Fortunately, she doesn't hoard.

She likes to walk to Starbucks and enjoy a coffee.  It took me the longest time to figure out that she orders a latte, because she claims that she like the "lotty" the best.  Evidently, the baristas are trained in literal German translations.

We were discussing her upcoming annual physical and recent blood glucose test.  I told her that one of Denny's doctors had said that one of the most common side effects of one of her meds was weight gain and we should discuss it with her doctor.  While at breakfast, she ordered pumpkin pancakes with whipped cream.  I gently asked if this was a good choice for her diet.  She indignantly told me that I had just told her it was the pills that made her fat, so she was going to stop taking them today, so it wouldn't matter what she ate.  Alrighty then.

One of our favorite places to shop (although now she's a tad large), is The Best Kept Secret, a sample store in Kirkland.  We've been there at least a dozen times, yet the name is illusive.  When I ask her where she'd like to go (besides the closed Sears store) she has a variety of replies:  The Most Best Place, The Secret Store, The Super Secret, or the Best Store. I believe the concept of keeping secrets, especially one of the best, is a hugely foreign concept.  I know this based on all the "secrets" that she has been told by her fellow residents.

And that is fodder for another blog post.

I Fart When I'm Happy

Still floating on green waters, I am.  The Z-Pac didn't work and I'm still coughing and gagging.  My primary doctor prescribed Augementin and Advair for a month.  A month!!!  Something about not wanting it to turn into pneumonia, blah, blah, blah.  Also, I went to see my Plastic Surgeon who stuck a cool lighted scope up my nose and pronounced no deviation of septum, your scars aren't that bad, come back when you're wrinkly and jowly.  Really!  That's what he said.  Such a smooth bedside manner;  that's why see him.

And then last week.  What an amazing time I had with my Ho's at the Hood Canal.  I know that the fact that they are the most technologically challenged women I've ever met should drive me crazy, but this actually worked in my favor.  So much in my favor.  First, if they put their phone down, I would secretly take pictures of myself making faces.  Second, I posted things on Facebook with their phones, so that readers would think they are crazy.  My favorite post was, "I fart when I'm happy."  She had no clue, but boy did her friends respond.  I kept sneaking looks at her profile and then the whole gag was discovered when her husband called her from Italy and said, "WTF?  You should watch where you leave your phone."

To my greater amusement, I watched them try to take the post down.

I don't think they've looked at their pictures either. 

Green Waters

We did SE Alaska.  Ketchikan to Juneau which was really modern AK.  It was everything I expected and then some.  Way big and disgusting Disney and Norwegian ships in port, next to our little cruiser servicing 56.

We didn't see any other boats for at least five out of seven days.  The company of salmon, otters, seals, bears, eagles, moose and humpback whales was so worth it.  We counted 21 blow holes spouting at one sitting and that was the highlight.  Whales as sunset and tails flipping everywhere;  a truly amazing sight.  The glacier calving was cool, too, but expected and cold.  I also learned to paddle board and I'd like to do that some more.

I came back with a cold, which I suspect is an ongoing sinus infection.  My nose is constantly stuffed, I'm coughing green (I know, isn't that a lovely thought?) and my face hurts.  Not that my face doesn't always hurt, but it does. 

I believe one of the continuing side effects of Lyrica is memory loss, as evidenced by neglecting to fill the RX prior to leaving.  I thought that I could get by until refill, missing about two doses.  Boy, was that ever stupid.  Freezing burning face is almost as bad as burning pee face, which is code for a bad bladder infection.  Not that I've had those in a long time, knock on woodage, but every woman I know can relate.

So anyway...super happy to have seen wildlife in the wild and enjoyed the company of the Mister, but as usual, way too short.

I shall swallow some Mucinex and hope for the best.