Monday, November 9, 2009
Corn Maze
This little gem comes from my friend Deb, who sends me all sorts of hilarious stuff - not all of which is suitable for sharing. Mostly I just wanted to put something up that didn't have the word "hysterectomy" in it. Oops. Maybe next time.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Monday, October 5, 2009
I Think I'll Sell My Tampons On Craigslist
I’m not gonna lie, I slept through General Conference. But if I told you the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help me Elder Packer, I should also explain that I slept through General Conference ON A GURNEY. So I’m kinda thinking I get a free pass.
Last Thursday morning started out normally. I got the kids off to school, checked my email, played a word in my facebook Scrabble game, checked my stats to see if Hugh Jackman had found my blog yet…when before I knew it I was in the fetal position, sobbing on the phone to my husband that I thought I needed to go to the Emergency Room. (Such a drastic transition going from happy thoughts of Hugh, frolicking on the internet to find me, and then *BAM* “Holy Crap, I think my abdomen was a client of Bernie Madoff’s because it’s TICKED.”) So I called my friend Ganelle, still sobbing and she said, “Don’t move, I’ll be right there.”
Thirty minutes later we stood in the ER entrance and I began peeing in cups and describing my pain on a scale of 1 to 10. Hmm…. “With ONE being I’m disappointed that my mom never bought me hostess cupcakes for school lunches, and TEN being the Holocaust, I’m somewhere between never going to Homecoming and Columbine.” A little later, before the CT scan but after the incident where Ganelle pulled my gown over my legs in opposition to our “friendship knows no boundaries” clause, (turns out there ARE boundaries, and they stop short of the upper thigh being exposed through a light blue tent that one is given to wear when vacationing in the ER) Ganelle was also found holding my hair while I threw up into a pink, plastic bin. It was glorious, I tell you.
When my doctor finally showed up and took my information, he announced that we would be conducting a CT scan. I did not anticipate this kind of action, and I have to admit, it scared me a little bit. Okay, a lot bit. So they whisked me away where I was introduced to Jack, the CT Scan guy. “Hi Jack,” I gestured. “Don’t say that on an airplane!” he laughed. Something tells me Jack only knows one joke. But he was nice, especially when he said, “We’ll be injecting your body with dye – you’ll feel warm and fuzzy inside, and then you will most likely feel like you’re wetting your pants.” I was all, “Dude, I just threw up on my best friend, what’s a little bed wetting incident with a guy who can’t do airports?” It was quick and painless, and even though I DID feel like I was wetting myself, I wasn’t. Yet.
A while later the results were in and my doctor returned to deliver the news. The next few minutes are a bit of a blur, so I was grateful that my husband and friend were there to take notes and ask questions. Bottom line: I had a mass on my ovary. The other one. Cancerous? We didn’t know. It was about the size of an orange, had damaged the only ovary I had left beyond repair, and needed to come out immediately. I was admitted that night, had surgery on Friday, and came home from the hospital last night. At the end of the day, I do NOT have cancer (phew) but they ended up taking out all my lady parts and I have eighteen (I counted) staples in my abdomen to prove it. Do you know what this means boys and girls? This means I will be going through menopause now. I know, right? YOU just hit the jackpot! VERN. IN MENOPAUSE. Not even Hollywood could make this stuff up. At any rate, my mom and dad have driven out from California to my rescue – my mom has already gone shopping and my dad has already whipped up a fresh batch of guacamole. I have been swarmed with loving phone calls, random goodie deliveries, and offers to help for which I am humbled and profoundly grateful. I don’t think I could feel more supported if I was standing in a warehouse of jock straps. So THANK YOU everybody. Thanks for loving me and my family and for making me feel so cared about. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a cupboard full of tampons that I no longer need. I think I’ll list them on ebay to see if they can help with the medical bills.
Last Thursday morning started out normally. I got the kids off to school, checked my email, played a word in my facebook Scrabble game, checked my stats to see if Hugh Jackman had found my blog yet…when before I knew it I was in the fetal position, sobbing on the phone to my husband that I thought I needed to go to the Emergency Room. (Such a drastic transition going from happy thoughts of Hugh, frolicking on the internet to find me, and then *BAM* “Holy Crap, I think my abdomen was a client of Bernie Madoff’s because it’s TICKED.”) So I called my friend Ganelle, still sobbing and she said, “Don’t move, I’ll be right there.”
Thirty minutes later we stood in the ER entrance and I began peeing in cups and describing my pain on a scale of 1 to 10. Hmm…. “With ONE being I’m disappointed that my mom never bought me hostess cupcakes for school lunches, and TEN being the Holocaust, I’m somewhere between never going to Homecoming and Columbine.” A little later, before the CT scan but after the incident where Ganelle pulled my gown over my legs in opposition to our “friendship knows no boundaries” clause, (turns out there ARE boundaries, and they stop short of the upper thigh being exposed through a light blue tent that one is given to wear when vacationing in the ER) Ganelle was also found holding my hair while I threw up into a pink, plastic bin. It was glorious, I tell you.
When my doctor finally showed up and took my information, he announced that we would be conducting a CT scan. I did not anticipate this kind of action, and I have to admit, it scared me a little bit. Okay, a lot bit. So they whisked me away where I was introduced to Jack, the CT Scan guy. “Hi Jack,” I gestured. “Don’t say that on an airplane!” he laughed. Something tells me Jack only knows one joke. But he was nice, especially when he said, “We’ll be injecting your body with dye – you’ll feel warm and fuzzy inside, and then you will most likely feel like you’re wetting your pants.” I was all, “Dude, I just threw up on my best friend, what’s a little bed wetting incident with a guy who can’t do airports?” It was quick and painless, and even though I DID feel like I was wetting myself, I wasn’t. Yet.
A while later the results were in and my doctor returned to deliver the news. The next few minutes are a bit of a blur, so I was grateful that my husband and friend were there to take notes and ask questions. Bottom line: I had a mass on my ovary. The other one. Cancerous? We didn’t know. It was about the size of an orange, had damaged the only ovary I had left beyond repair, and needed to come out immediately. I was admitted that night, had surgery on Friday, and came home from the hospital last night. At the end of the day, I do NOT have cancer (phew) but they ended up taking out all my lady parts and I have eighteen (I counted) staples in my abdomen to prove it. Do you know what this means boys and girls? This means I will be going through menopause now. I know, right? YOU just hit the jackpot! VERN. IN MENOPAUSE. Not even Hollywood could make this stuff up. At any rate, my mom and dad have driven out from California to my rescue – my mom has already gone shopping and my dad has already whipped up a fresh batch of guacamole. I have been swarmed with loving phone calls, random goodie deliveries, and offers to help for which I am humbled and profoundly grateful. I don’t think I could feel more supported if I was standing in a warehouse of jock straps. So THANK YOU everybody. Thanks for loving me and my family and for making me feel so cared about. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a cupboard full of tampons that I no longer need. I think I’ll list them on ebay to see if they can help with the medical bills.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
This Is NOT A Newsflash
Sometime over the summer when I was busy not blogging on this blog I saw a headline on my Comcast homepage that said, “Michael Phelps Not Injured In Car Accident”. Ummm, kay? Hello Comcast homepage people, I have some very important information that you should carefully tuck away for others like me. Specifically, when you tell me about something that didn’t happen, I don’t really care, and I am not likely to click on your little link to hear the “Rest Of The Story….”
Can you imagine if I ran my blog this way? So lazy. In fact, let’s try it out. Here’s a little Top Ten List of things that did NOT happen to me in the last two months.
1. I did not get syphilis, which is fairly common when you’re not a tramp.
2. I did not lose the thirty pounds that I set out to drop by October. Hell, I didn’t even lose ONE of those thirty pounds. And I did not just say “hell”. (hi mom!)
3. I did not begin a love affair with soy nuts and barley, which is why number 2 didn’t work out. P.S. I didn’t work out much either, so I suppose soy and barley are only partially to blame.
4. I did not watch any episodes of “The Suite Life” with my kids.
5. Except that one time, but I was bored and we only have one television so SHUT IT. And Samantha did not say, “Um, Mom? You just laughed at Zach and Cody. That’s kinda sad.” (See what I mean Comcast? This is not riveting material.)
6. I did not rent “17 Again” and think that Zac Efron was hot. However, I may have rented “17 Again” and thought, “Dude, I am the same age as the actor who plays Zac Efron’s dad.”
7. I did not cry when Michael Jackson died.
8. I did not get my own reality show, but I do wish that TLC would stop calling me already.
9. I did not run into Hugh Jackman at the mall, have lunch with him at Paradise Bakery, or hold his hand at the movies. Come to think of it, Hugh and I didn’t do anything together all summer. WHAT is his PROBLEM?
10. I did not go to Hawaii, but my friend Kettie did and she went to my favorite Shave Ice place and ordered my favorite flavor and sent me a picture of it, so it’s almost like I was there. But I wasn’t.
Tune in next week when I’ll share my lists on “All The Guys I Never Dated” and “All The Vegetables I’ve Never Tried.”
Can you imagine if I ran my blog this way? So lazy. In fact, let’s try it out. Here’s a little Top Ten List of things that did NOT happen to me in the last two months.
1. I did not get syphilis, which is fairly common when you’re not a tramp.
2. I did not lose the thirty pounds that I set out to drop by October. Hell, I didn’t even lose ONE of those thirty pounds. And I did not just say “hell”. (hi mom!)
3. I did not begin a love affair with soy nuts and barley, which is why number 2 didn’t work out. P.S. I didn’t work out much either, so I suppose soy and barley are only partially to blame.
4. I did not watch any episodes of “The Suite Life” with my kids.
5. Except that one time, but I was bored and we only have one television so SHUT IT. And Samantha did not say, “Um, Mom? You just laughed at Zach and Cody. That’s kinda sad.” (See what I mean Comcast? This is not riveting material.)
6. I did not rent “17 Again” and think that Zac Efron was hot. However, I may have rented “17 Again” and thought, “Dude, I am the same age as the actor who plays Zac Efron’s dad.”
7. I did not cry when Michael Jackson died.
8. I did not get my own reality show, but I do wish that TLC would stop calling me already.
9. I did not run into Hugh Jackman at the mall, have lunch with him at Paradise Bakery, or hold his hand at the movies. Come to think of it, Hugh and I didn’t do anything together all summer. WHAT is his PROBLEM?
10. I did not go to Hawaii, but my friend Kettie did and she went to my favorite Shave Ice place and ordered my favorite flavor and sent me a picture of it, so it’s almost like I was there. But I wasn’t.
Tune in next week when I’ll share my lists on “All The Guys I Never Dated” and “All The Vegetables I’ve Never Tried.”
Monday, July 13, 2009
Cletus Take The Reel
Gathered with a group of moms this morning as we dropped off our daughters for Girl's Camp, my friend Bethany mentioned this following video on YouTube - I came home to check it out, and it must be shared! Check it...
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Thanks For The Mammaries
"For my sister’s 50th birthday, I sent her a singing mammogram."
~ Steven Wright
A year ago my doctor encouraged me to get my first mammogram. I politely took a card for a clinic he recommended, then came home and discarded it into my pile of “Things To Do After Napping Gets Old” where it got lost among my petitions for school volunteering opportunities, bills and Michael’s coupons. At my recent visit, he was more insistent. “Did you get a mammogram yet? You need to get a mammogram. Here’s a place where you can get a mammogram. Will you go get a mammogram? YOU ARE OLD NOW, PROMISE ME YOU’LL MAKE AN APPOINTMENT FOR A MAMMOGRAM.” Not since my honeymoon had I encountered anyone so consumed with an activity concerning my breasts. He was so adamant about it that I began to feel as if ignoring him would be a serious mistake resulting in chemotherapy, so I came home and promptly made an appointment. I went on Friday.
I would like to start by saying that I was told a mammogram is not painful. I can’t remember who told me this, but I suspect whoever it was had shot up with heroin before their appointment, because nobody in their right freakin’ mind would say that a mammogram doesn’t hurt unless they have lightly coated their veins with an illegal substance first. “Take a deep breath and hold it,” the
Still, I can’t help but think that the Tower of London really missed out on this technology. And to THINK what Jack Bauer could do with this machine – the possibilities are endless. His female nemesis would be all, “I TOLD you Jack, I haven’t lactated in over a DECADE!” He’d crank it tighter, “TELL ME THE TRUTH!!!”
I don’t know, this all sounded funnier in my head.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Drew's Moral Dilemma
We are driving in the car and Drew says to me, "Mom? I'm trying to decide...if Anthony and Samantha were both hanging off the side of a cliff and I could only save one of them, who would I choose?"
I stare at him blankly. "I'm sorta hoping you're leaning towards your flesh and blood instead of the kid you met less than a year ago."
"Still," he defends. "It's a tough choice!"
He remains conflicted, which is why I'm steering Samantha away from ALL cliffs.
I stare at him blankly. "I'm sorta hoping you're leaning towards your flesh and blood instead of the kid you met less than a year ago."
"Still," he defends. "It's a tough choice!"
He remains conflicted, which is why I'm steering Samantha away from ALL cliffs.
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