Wednesday, October 31, 2012

October Pointless Lists

Technically I'm finishing this up November 1, but the beauty of scheduling posts is that you can go back in time!  How's that for Halloween magic?

Halloween dawned dark and darker.  Johanna was pretty sure it was NOT morning (I was questioning the clock myself), but we managed to get everyone to school.  I helped out in Johanna's room most of the morning, working the cookie decorating station.  Pretty awesome station to get to run, all things considered.  The kids were a little too worried about making a mess, and when they'd drop frosting or whatever, I practically had to talk them down from the ledge.  You're frosting cookies!  Messes are bound to happen.

"Look, I'm 40 and I have frosting on my pants, so don't worry about it," I said at one point.  This got me a lot of open months, plus a "You're older than my dad!" in hushed reverence.  Because I'm THAT OLD.

It bothered most of them that I wasn't dressed up.  I told them I was--I was being myself from last year.  (I'm used to blank stares, so whatever.)  I forgot I was wearing Halloween socks (because I'm THAT OLD).  That might have saved me a lot of explaining.

P.S. If you think three hours of frosting cookies with second graders is enough, then you'd be correct.

P.P.S. Johanna's ninja costume looked more like a cat burglar.  "Everyone kept asking what I was," she thoughtfully explained today.  I told her she was so stealth as a ninja, that's why.  Honestly, I don't think she cared either way.  Abby borrowed a cape from the drama department and rocked it as a vampire.  Seriously.  She even won a prize that she had to collect at lunchtime.

Abby quote of the day: "I'll be the only eighth grader dressed up, probably, but who cares? I'm going to wear this cape like a boss."

Pointless list time!

Movies watched:
Um, right.  We're seriously thinking of getting rid of our Netflix account.  There's nothing "On Demand" unless you're seven and like the Disney channel.  Why not just hit RedBox?

Books read:
Simplicity: Essays by Joshua Fields Millburn and Ryan Nicodemus.  I follow their blog about minimalism, which is how I learned about the book.  For $5 I figured it would be worth it, even if you can find all but two of the essays on their blog already for free.  (I just found them maybe two months ago, so it's not like I've managed to read everything already anyway.)  I enjoyed the book--they have a very clear, straightforward way of writing and they have great ideas and questions to get you started on a simpler path.  A lot of the ideas and questions tend to repeat themselves... and I'm not really sure what to say about that, except I get it already, but maybe repetition is a good way to get things rattling around in your skull, so who am I to judge?  Recommend--even if all you want to do is hop on over to the website and check out what they have to say there.  They've really helped me on my path to minimalism, and I am grateful.

The Sisters Brothers by Patrick deWitt.  This book is so weird and awesome.  I've been wanting to read it forever, and this month Amazon had it as part of their 100 Books Under $3.99 promotion, so I grabbed the thing for $2.99.  SCORE.  Because it would have been worth it at regular price.  The story is told by Eli Sister, who is a very serious, thoughtful kind of murderer in the 1850s.  The prose reminded me a little of how Jane Austen would have written a western.  It's a comedy because of the writing, not because of the situations.  Completely entertaining.  Highly recommend.

Minding Frankie by Maeve Binchy.  This is the first book I've ever checked out from the library for my Kindle.  I chose it because the wait list was short (it only took a week to get the email saying I could borrow it now) and because there was a time in the late '90s when I read nothing but Maeve Binchy.  Even though all her books are pretty much the same story, they're enjoyable.  So I was not disappointed here--it's a good story, plus in her later books she liked to include characters from other books, so there were all sorts of people in this thing I already knew.  Ah, books.  It's a safe bet.

Beautiful Redemption by Kami Garcia and Margaret Stohl.  So last October I found these books and thought it was a series of three.  No so much.  This is the last installment, and while it wasn't my favorite, it was decent enough.  I knew how it was going to end without even skipping ahead, but I wondered how the writers would get there.  And now I know.  Yay knowing!

...And another book that I got for free that I will not even tell you the title of because it was stupid and I'm embarrassed I read it/skimmed through wondering if it was really that stupid (yep, it was).  Sometimes just because you can self publish doesn't mean you should, people.

What I'm reading now:
I finally started in on the third Game of Thrones book, "A Storm of Swords."  It will probably take me another two months, but it's dark and dreary and Winter Is Coming, so I was sort of in the mood for the commitment.

Garden update:
The end!  It's funny how you go from chomping at the bit to being completely over it in four short months.  I haven't even been to the farmers' market because it's just too much pressure.

Things I did not think I needed to tell Johanna, but totally should have:
We do not eat tomato soup with our fingers.

Things I learned:
To make sure Jo has a spoon when I serve her tomato soup, just to be on the safe side.

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

How do we sleep while our beds are burning?

I find myself at a loose end this morning.

It doesn't help anything that the day is dark and foggy.  Not that I necessarily mind--we were so bright and so hot for so long, the change is kind of nice--but not being able to see past the driveway makes me feel slightly claustrophobic.

Okay, I guess I can see a little farther than the driveway.  Whatevs.

Anyway, I had plans but they fell through, so instead of getting ready to meet a friend for lunch, I'm roasting five (small) pumpkins in the oven.  I just cleaned them off and tossed them in there, because really, what's the worst that can happen?  But now I'm wondering if maybe I should have taken off the stems because, um, smoky.  And really burny.

(Skilly just came inside and he's looking at me like maybe he's wondering if I'm noticing the smell.  Is that bad?)

So can I just say that I've got a little bit of a love/hate relationship going on right now with eBay?  I'm attempting to get my shopping done early so all I have to do in December is sit around eating cookies.  I know, right?  Genius.  I'm all for shopping locally, but I'm wanting to get Johanna some special Lego pieces to round out her collection, and you can't just go in and buy, say, a dozen flowers or 15 fence pieces or three horses at our local toy store, let alone Walmart.  So I've been bidding.  And losing.  And swearing.  And then finding a similar product with a "Buy Now" tag.  Except!  I finally DID win, even though I was on pins and needles the whole last minute (I got outbid with eight seconds left on some Lego trees yesterday.  SUCKED).

I forgot where I was going with this.  Oh, yes: Eric thinks that for the money I'm shelling out we could have just purchased an actual Lego set.  He's totally right.  Um, except I'm still going on with my plan, so...

Although I did promise not to bid on anything else.  Um, Lego-wise, I mean.  There's a karate outfit that would totally fit Johanna's American Girl doll that I'm still debating on.

As for Abby, we'll utilize someone locally to fix her iPod Touch screen, and then probably throw money at her for books and music.  Easy peasy.

P.S. The minimalism project has been on the back burner while I chase blatant consumerism online.  I really need to get back on that train.  I am so in love with my minimal kitchen and bathroom and bedroom I can't even tell you how much.  I've been telling myself I'm too busy... but I think it's just that I'm too lazy.  Ah, damn.  Assuming my house doesn't burn down from my smoky pumpkin stems, I'm off the computer now and into the hall closet...

P.P.S. The house did NOT burn down, and now that the smoke has cleared (cough), it smells rather delightful in here.  Crisis averted!

Midnight Oil, Beds Are Burning.  Fun fact: This is my public's favorite song from the '80s.

Friday, October 26, 2012


I have a little tableau of found objects on my (crappy) adding machine at work.  It all started when Cranky Steve found the dinosaur in the parking lot, and then Jody brought me the "diamond," and then suddenly I had an alien and a penguin too, except I have no idea where they came from.

Well, anyway.  No story, really.  Just, here they are, and they make me happy, and every day there's a bit of excitement because who knows when someone else will secretly add to the collection?

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Calgone, take me away

So here's been my day:

Abby's drama class had a performance tonight, so Johanna and I dropped her and a friend off at the middle school at 6 p.m., then came back JUST IN TIME at 7 for the curtain call.  Abby's group went first, and it was actually pretty good (you know, for a middle school play.  And before you get all up in arms about not being invited, Public, Abby was just on makeup and costume duty.  Plus: Have you already forgotten the Spring music program?).  

Then the second group was up, after a lengthy intermission.  The kids were unprepared, it took forever for them to change sets between acts, and the looooong pauses as they tried to remember their lines were unbearable.

But that's not even the worst part.  This play was "scary."  Johanna made it about ten minutes before announcing, with great alarm, that she was going to have nightmares.  

Well, what happened next was a no brainer: We went into the lobby, where I thought Abby was.  We'd just go home.

Except Abby was NOT in the lobby, she was in her classroom cleaning up.  Probably a good detail to know ahead of time.  So I spent eight minutes waiting for my oldest while my youngest whined ON AND ON AND ON about how she wasn't scared anymore and could we PLEASE GO BACK IN.

Um, no.  Dude, you have dreams about wars and zombies.  We don't need dreams about spirits possessing people, too.

So that?  Was a really fun eight minutes, plus the additional four it took to drive home once Abby finally wandered in.

We got home, and I looked at Eric,* and I was all, I'm going to go wash my hair now, which was code for I'm gonna lose my shit, and Eric was like, GO!  The boy knows a crisis when he sees one.

But the joke was on me because Johanna kept coming in to complain some more about not getting to see the end of the play ("But Abby said it ends happily!"**), and then to put a bandage on her elbow, and then again to put on another bandage because the first one fell off.

Deep breath.

And then there was the call I fielded at work this afternoon.

A lady called up to say that like ten years ago she and her husband went on this camping trip in the area and she had a dream about a six year old boy sitting by a fire, and then this other guy who was probably from the 1960s by the looks of him--who was very sullen to boot--called to the kid and they disappeared into the woods together.  And the dream was so real that she's pretty sure they were murder victims haunting the woods, and did I know of anything like that happening in the area?  She'd already done computer searches.  She didn't want to sound crazy, but sometimes she sees things like this.


I go back to editorial and I'm all, so, who wants to field this one?  Finally we call the editor over and he announces that she needs to call the sheriff's office if she really believes there was a murder and let them handle it.  

So she'd been on hold for like five minutes by this point, but she was still there and took down the sheriff department number and thanked me profusely for my help.

I'm not really sure what else to say about that, except maybe this is like that story my cousin Clara told this past weekend, about the crazy guy who called 911 to say that ninjas were attacking his mailbox, which ended up getting him arrested, which eventually led to him being tasered.  And then later someone else called to say there were kids dressed as ninjas vandalizing mailboxes.

See where I'm going with this?  Yeah, me neither...

*Eric had a meeting tonight, so he was off the hook.
**Liar.  But it's all for the greater good of the family--in that maybe we'll all get to sleep tonight--so all is forgiven.

Monday, October 22, 2012

Let's hit opening time

Why does Skilly smell like Axe cologne?  Is he trying to score with the ladies?  He's been out in the rain and he's sort of confused about why he's wet.  He let me towel him off and then went to lay down on my (new) white long sleeve t-shirt, so I've got an Axe-scented paw print with rather unfortunate placement to deal with now.

Moving RIGHT along...

Harvest Fest!  Was this weekend!  Last year it took me three posts to get it all in, but I'm not going to put you through that this year.  Because I am feeling kind and generous, that's why.  Small group--just Aunt Jan and Bethie and Clara and Maggie Mae,* and Mom and the girls and me.  Since Maggie is a mere five months old, and because the weather sucked, we took it slow.  One craft fair and one fruit stand and my house.  Perfect, actually.

I was slightly worried about the weekend, truth be told, because I am a minimalist and I wasn't sure if I was ready to test my newfound awesome in an environment of blatant consumerism.  But it wasn't so hard.  I am human and I like cute, but I've found that the more I clean out, the better I feel, and I like the  empty space too much to want to fill it up again.

I did buy a bracelet from Stacey's daughter.  I feel like I need to disclose that for some reason.  And we ran into all manner of friendly faces, so that was fun.  (Mara!  Saw your 'rents!)  I think I enjoyed lunch/hanging out at Mom's and snacks/hanging out at my house the best because: Maggie time!  And getting to chat.  But mostly Maggie time.

So that was Saturday.  On Sunday Mom and Abby and I went to the Very Expensive Craft Fair downtown because I had a press pass and was supposed to be taking pictures for the paper.  There wasn't much to take pictures of.  We felt disappointed and, frankly, violated. It was even easier not to buy anything here.  Partly because it was so expensive, and partly because there just wasn't anything I wanted.  It was just a lot of gourmet food and jewelry and pointless baubles.

My best photo.  Mom offered to get names for publication.

Ah, but then.  I needed a new white long sleeve t-shirt (yep, the one that Skilly just decorated for me), so we went to the one clothing store in town that's not Walmart and not geared toward tourists.  And I found the most awesome sweater ever: Brown and adorable and the perfect fit.  Abby was like, but you're a minimalist, remember?  And I was all, I am? But then I tried to think it through.

Did I need a brown sweater before I saw this one?  No.  Do I have other brown sweaters that are still in good shape?  Yes.

So damn.  That was that.  I endured the cajoling of the saleslady ("But everything is buy one, get one half off!") and just bought the t-shirt.  And some socks for my half-price item.

Boring.  But the right choice.

Um, so that was Harvest Fest.

*Hey, side note, Maggie is up to nine pounds, which is pretty damn impressive, especially since she wasn't even two pounds when she was born.  Also, I don't want to brag, but she loves me the best.  Probably.  FINE, she liked Abby better.  Happy now?  Sheesh.

P.S. Thoughts on THIS layout?  It's minimal, that's for sure.

The Cure, Fascination Street.  This song will forever remind me of my senior year of high school and drama class and that long, grey winter.  Good times!  (Sincerely.  Really good times.)

Thursday, October 18, 2012

However much I do

Oops, this week has gotten away from me a little bit.  Sorry about that.

Cranky Steve sold his house to his nephew like on Monday and since that time, he's purchased a new house and will move by this weekend.  Cranky Steve does not mess around.  Anyway, he brought me a load of canning jars--and lids from the 1970s by the look of the box--and now he's trying to give me all sorts of other stuff as well.  No, I don't need a spittoon (um, what?) or a stereo cabinet (iPods rule!) or a food dehydrator (got one of those already).  Then he offered to sell me the 1984 station wagon he bought "to take the little old ladies to church" for $450.

Who WOULDN'T want this car?

When I said no he tried to sell it to Angela in Sales whose car gave it up right in our parking lot just this week.  Sadly, she didn't want to "do that to her kids."  I was like, can you imagine the awesomeness of driving them to school in that thing?, but she doesn't have my vision.  Plus it's easy for me to say because obviously, I don't want it either.

Speaking of saying no to unnecessary things... Johanna's backpack weighed a ton after school yesterday, and I was all, do you have boulders in this thing? because seriously, it was that heavy.  Once we opened up the backpack, I wondered why it didn't weigh more. She had all manner of crap in that thing, and aside from her lunchbox, a couple of library books and a bag of cookies my mother had sent home,* it was all junk.

P.S. Oh, except.  Turns out she DID have a rock in there.  The girls inherited Eric's geology mania.  We've got rocks all over this joint.  I especially love finding them in the dryer.

The firemen came to her school, and that's all well and good, but I'm not very excited about the red plastic fireman's hat or the three "safety" coloring books now sitting on the kitchen table.  And then apparently a nutritionalist came too because Johanna also pulled out a plastic vegetable brush and a handout detailing why we should use paper towels instead of cloth to clean all surfaces of our home.  (Don't even get me started.)

And I know, whatever, right?  But this really annoys me.  I'm trying to get the crap out of Johanna's room--out of my entire house--and here comes this stuff marching in without permission.  I can toss the coloring books in the recycling (when she forgets about them tomorrow) and I can pop the vegetable brush in the rummage sale bag, but what about the fireman's hat?  That's just landfill fodder.  Actually, who am I kidding, so is the vegetable brush because vegetable brushes are stupid.

My point is this: We need to start saying no to giveaways.  (Hard to do when you're seven and not with your crazy minimalist mother, I realize.)  Just because something is free doesn't mean we should have to take it.  Let's enjoy the moment for what it is without a souvenir.

I just blew my own mind.

*Wednesdays are CCD/First Communion prep and the 'rents were on Johanna duty. Thanks for the cookies, Mommy!

P.P.S. I'm thinking of changing my blog format again because Eric says this one looks like red dripping blood, which I guess is appropriate for Halloween but isn't really the overall look I'm going for.  So don't be surprised if it looks different around here soon is all I'm saying.

The Cure, Never Enough.  Because it's NEVER ENOUGH.  Well, duh.  And also I love The Cure with my whole heart and this is a good song to sing when you're alone in the car.

Sunday, October 14, 2012

Minimalism, week three

I don't talk a lot about my minimalist ambitions in real life (because I don't want people to think I'm weird, to be honest), but getting rid of stuff was a theme that kept coming up this past week at work. Deb in Reception (not to be confused with Deb in Sales) was pleased with the results of her garage sale, Chris in Accounting was talking about the guilt she feels at the mere thought of moving her scrapbooks downstairs, and then a Little Old Lady placed an ad for a patio sale* and made the following comment:

When you get older, you look around and think, how did I get so much stuff? And why did I think this stuff was so important?

I'm 40--which is young or old, depending on how you look at it--and I've been wondering the same thing. How did we end up with so much stuff? And why do we think this stuff is so important?

Because we're human, I guess. Because we worry we'll need something in the future, because we think that this new item is going to make us happier, because some of this stuff holds memories and therefore meaning.

When I purged items in the master bath last week, I tried to keep these questions in mind--the first to enjoy the newly opened space, and the second to get over the guilt of donating or throwing away the things we don't use and don't need.

Honestly, why did tossing an unused jar moisturizer cause me such stress? I spent a lot of money on something that made me break out, but would saving it lessen the mistake?

Sigh. No. Into the trash it went.

I find it interesting, by the way, that I continue to struggle when I'm purging items. It's not like I've missed anything after I've decided to get rid of it (or, in most cases, can even remember what it was), so I don't get the resistance I sometimes feel. Weird.

But onward we continue. Bring on week four.

Oh, and incidentally, people have begun answering my classified ads. Slowly but surely, the basement is looking less cluttered. You have no idea what that does for my mental wellbeing. Hint: It's a lot.

*My Grandma M. used to call them patio sales, too. The memory made me smile. Ah, Gram. I really miss you.

Friday, October 12, 2012

Nine things

2. I'm cold.  I can't remember the last time I was cold.
3. We're supposed to get rain this afternoon. I'm looking forward to that.
4. Eric downloaded a couple Nickelback songs on Wednesday, one that I like.  Gah.
5. I tried to check out ebooks at the library, but everything I want has a huge wait list.
6. Today I hope to sell the vast majority of my Simple Additions collection.
7. Johanna: "Sometimes I wonder if I'm really seeing what I'm seeing."
8. The cartoon above pleases me to no end.
9. Abby is a boss.

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

New settings = no one will still ever comment, but they COULD

My friend Mara sent me an email yesterday.  She does that sometimes, but anyway, it got me thinking:
Ok, I do not have permission to post comments to your blog, because your blog site is a bigot against non bloggers. So I resort to email.
Wait, what?  That can't be true, can it?  No one ever comments, but I figured that was because no one ever reads this my ten readers all have social anxiety and commenting is TOO MUCH.*

Or maybe there's not a big market for ramble.

All beside the point.

Could it be that no one comments because they can't?

So this morning I took a look into my settings, and lo and behold!  I've had them set at perhaps a little too high on the cautionary side of things.  I'm happy to report that anyone anywhere should now be able to post a comment.  Even anonymously.

The problem with making this announcement, of course, is that no one is still ever going to comment, and now I look pathetic and desperate.  That's true, but I'd rather not look it, you know?

*We do what we can do, people.  I've got social anxiety myself, which makes blogging all the more ironic.  Mostly I just try not to think about it.

Sunday, October 7, 2012

DYI hair detangler spray

(Yes, you're at the right spot.  I got bored with my blog design and decided to try something new.)

So for some reason, my favorite mother-in-law sent me a link the other day for homemade hair detangler spray.  Actually the reason might be that Johanna has the rattiest hair imaginable.  It's thick... but it's fine, and she can actually get a snarl in the back of her head while sleeping.  In braids.

Anyway, this particular recipe comes from the Frugally Sustainable website.  Just glancing over the recipe, my first thought was, wow, this looks easy.  My second thought was, what the hell is marshmallow root?

Here's the ingredient list so you can see what I'm talking about:

1 1/4 cup distilled water
1/4 cup (1/2 ounce) dried marshmallow root
1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar
1/2 tablespoon olive oil or jojoba oil
Essential oils, optional

(Easy, right?  Except I won't lie, I have no idea what jojoba oil is either.)

Our town has a grocery store with a killer bulk food section.  They have all kinds of weird stuff, so I figured marshmallow root would be no problem.  And there it was, between the marjoram and the Mexican seasoning.  For $22.89 a pound.  Luckily I only needed 1/2 ounce.  That's 45¢ worth, just in case you don't feel like doing the math yourself.

Fast forward to that night.  I simmered the marshmallow root in the water for 30 minutes.

Mmm, tasty!  It looks like shredded wheat.

Then I strained it through a sieve.  Technically I was supposed to wait until it cooled down.  I do not possess that kind of patience.

Huh.  Looks like egg yolks.  DOES NOT
smell like marshmallows.

I didn't end up with a lot of liquid, but maybe that's because I simmered it uncovered or something.  Whatever.  Moving on.  I added the rest of the ingredients, including a couple drops of Tea Tree Oil because that's the only essential oil I own.  I mixed that around for a while and then poured it into one of Johanna's many detangler spray bottles.

What was leftover.  Too gross not to share.

So I don't know if it was the bottle's fault or my fault, but this mixture just did NOT want to spray on Johanna's hair.  And we all have lives to lead.  So I just dumped some of it on her hairbrush and went to town.

And OH MY HECK.  Worked like a champ!  Well, except on that one little rat's nest of a snarl on the left side of her head that we can never seem to get rid of.  So for THAT, Eric strategically used a pair of scissors.

Um, wow.

And then we all rejoiced in the smoothness that was Johanna's hair.


Incidentally, this isn't particularly greasy, even with the oil in it, and the vinegar smell eventually dissipates.  Her hair is soft and smooth and was really easy to comb through--we can't hold this stuff accountable for The Snarl, since NOTHING would have been able to take that out.  Don't think it's going to last particularly long, but for 45¢ a shot, who cares?  Definitely worthwhile.

So thanks, Frugally Sustainable.  That was fun.  And I would not hesitate to make it again.

Thursday, October 4, 2012

Minimalism, week two

So I was feeling pretty good about coming out as a minimalist last week, until Eric pointed out that we already are minimalists.

The evidence: We have a small house, we don't have cable, we don't go shopping for fun, we don't collect anything, we're good about purging, and our phones are really old "dumb phones."

"Some people might call that cheap and frugal instead of minimalist, though," he added as an afterthought. I told him THAT is just because we're cheap and frugal.  (Hardy har har.)

But I still think there's more we can do.  Even if we don't bring that much in (well, aside from groceries and the things we need to sustain our lives, like hair dye and books... you know, the important junk), we tend to hang onto our stuff with an iron grip.  Because we might need it someday.  And that needs to stop.

That's been the biggest eye opener for me as far as this whole minimalism thing goes--why am I holding onto, say, this Pampered Chef serving platter I got when Abby was two?  That I haven't used since 2002?  That's been living in the bottom of my hutch so long I actually forgot I own it?  And even though I knew in my head why I should get rid of it, I still put it in my kitchen, next to the cutting boards, just in case.  After four days of having that platter clanging around every time I reached for a cutting board, it's now downstairs with the rest of my discarded kitchenware.  Never underestimate the power of annoyance.

And if I do end up needing a platter someday?  Chances are really good I could borrow one from my mother or mother-in-law.  Or use other "dishes" that could easily become "platters" in a pinch.

Which means: I really don't need that platter.  And letting fear dictate what I keep and what I purge is dumb.

Another eye opener for me is how entrenched I am in the whole consumerism ordeal.  I like to think that I don't fall prey to The Man's advertising scams.  But.  As I cleaned out my hutch and looked at one newly cleaned drawer with only four cloth napkins inside--inherited from either my grandma or Eric's, I forget--my first thought wasn't, "Wow, this clean drawer is awesome," but "Hey, I have room now for more cloth napkins!"  I laughed when I caught myself going down that path--of course I don't need more cloth napkins just to fill a drawer.  Four is plenty, especially since we have dish clothes that pretty much accomplish the same goal.  I am happy with four napkins.  Eight napkins, or 16, or 32, won't make me any happier.  It'd just mean more laundry and more to take care of.

Yay four napkins!

I've been a little overwhelmed by the sheer amount of discarded crap piling up in the basement, but Eric has reminded me that it's okay because every single item down there means we're one step closer to our minimalist goals.  (Yep, Eric is on board.  Hallelujah!)  Plus, it's a basement.  Who sees it anyway?

Oh, but on THAT front, I managed to get rid of some pots and pans this weekend.  To someone who wanted to use them for "garden art."  Hey, whatever lady.  And do you by chance want a serving platter?

Next up: The master bathroom.  That should be fun.

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Now radiate

So yesterday was Mammogram Monday.  Johanna wanted to know how we celebrate this holiday (no joke), and I was all, well, we were going to celebrate with pancakes, but I got overruled by Daddy and Abby so we're having BLTs instead.

Wait, let's back up a minute.

Now that I'm 40, my doctor, whom I love and adore, announced it was time for me to start getting a yearly mammogram.  I won't lie, somewhere in the back of my head I was all, how exactly is it a good idea to squish and radiate a delicate area of the body? even though yes, I know, early detection saves lives and all of that.  Doesn't mean I can't wonder.

Squish and radiate.  Seriously.  That sounds messed up.

So I called and made my appointment like a good little girl.  Six weeks later, whatever.  (Un)fortunately they were able to get me in right away.  Yay.  Not that I was worried about it, mind you.  I've given birth twice, I am a powerhouse of awesome.  Just... squish and radiate.

Drive to the hospital, check in at the front desk, try to look like I know what I'm doing as I search for the elevator that will lead me to the basement.  Get to the right floor, check in at another desk, fill out some paperwork, try to play on my iPad but the hospital wifi is slower than the second coming so I got bored and pulled out my Kindle instead.  Because I have all kinds of poser devices to keep me occupied, hospital.  I don't need your stinking wifi.

My name gets called, I follow in the... nurse?... and get shown to a dressing room (undressing room, ha), get a quick tutorial on how to properly put on the gown, which is actually a cape.  Undress, put on my cape, feel like Superman except it's really cold down in the basement even with all the radiation bouncing off the walls and that takes away some of my cockiness as well as some of my superpowers.

So I wasn't sure what to expect, really, but it was a disappointment.  That's IT?  I mean, aside from quite a bit of breast molestation, it wasn't that big of a deal.  The squishing wasn't uncomfortable, not that I enjoyed standing still for those ten seconds or whatever it was.  The worst of it was taking off the nipple marker stickers while getting redressed.  Ouch.  I thought I'd just rip them off like a band-aid, which was not my best idea ever, just FYI.

Um, so that was all, except afterwards when the... nurse?... was leading me back to the waiting room she was all, I forgot to mention but we have spray on deodorant in the dressing room, just in case you're going back to work right away because we don't let you wear any here, and I was all, um, I don't actually wear deodorant anyway, but maybe we'll just keep that between you and me, and then she laughed, but then I wondered if maybe she was politely trying to tell me something.


Anyway, I thought it would be funny to have pancakes for dinner for obvious reasons, but Abby was all like, pancakes are for Lent, let's have BLTs, and Eric was all, I like how this girl thinks, and I was all, FINE.

So we had BLTs and fries.  The end.  But what do I do with that quart of buttermilk I have in the refrigerator now?

Anyway, the moral of this story is if you have to get a mammogram, don't sweat it.  No big deal, yo.

INXS, Mediate.  I had this whole thing memorized in tenth grade.  Mara and I used to sing it in Government class to help pass the time.  (You have the right to wear short sleeves, just so you know.)  Ah, tenth grade.  Thank God THAT'S over.