The high school kids I work with did an amazing job with their show, and I am very pleased. They also gave me a sweet gift, and I inadvertently received a raise since I quit the last high school I worked for and started working with this one.
I am getting sinus surgery again. This time they are going to be more aggressive. They will be drilling small holes above my eyebrows to drain those sinuses and going into passages they haven't before. They assured me they will stop if any dangers pop up, like too much bleeding or leakage of my spinal fluid (they have to get WAY in there). I am also getting my deviated septum repaired, which I hear feels like you've got a broken nose. I scheduled it all for April 1, so I don't have too much time to get anxious about it.
In family news, my uncle has been committed. He lost his job, got in trouble with the law on multiple accounts, and has a restraining order against him. It is a damn shame. It is all very upsetting, but there is one thing that is stranger than the rest. There is a lake at the end of my parents' street. My parents did not want me to go there. It was a mess, broken bottles everywhere. I went once with my library/enrichment program teacher and another boy from my class to study moss. Anyway, apparently, when my uncle got in trouble with the law, he parked on the other side of the lake in a different town, where he damaged his car and ran over someone's mailbox, and then he swam across the shitty lake in winter to walk to his house. People called the cops when they saw a shoeless guy covered in mud walking the streets. His briefcase and car keys are still in the lake. He also stole my Mom-Mom's First Alert system and put it in my other uncle's coy pond. He thought it was tape-recording him. I hope he actually does what he needs to to stay well. We'll see.
My Mom-Mom will most likely have to go in a home. It is very sad, but she really needs someone around the clock to take care of her.
I feel like nothing can surprise me anymore. Bad things happen, good stuff still happens. It's sad.
The husbo thinks it's dangerous to put this all out there, but I don't use names, so I'm hoping there is still some anonymity to all this. I think only 3 people read anyway, and they are all people I'd want to know this stuff.
Despite all the craziness, I feel okay.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Thursday, March 12, 2009
A Cat Story
I want to preface this story by saying that I loved my family's cat whole-heartedly, and I was completely sincere in telling this story to the husbo. Because his family has never had a single pet ever, he didn't treat this with the sensitivity it deserved. He is not evil, he just doesn't get it.
Last night, after we turned off the TV, we heard a terrible cat sound from outside. We have quite a few strays that hang around our block that we think the neighbors kind of take care of. Anyway, the sound reminded me of something that happened years ago, so I told him the story.
I explained that I hated that sound, because it made me feel extremely guilty. Here is what happened:
We had a wonderful cat named Daphne. She was owned by a bandmate of my brother who had many animals and just had a baby, so they needed to down-size. Why they would ever get rid of Love-puss, which is what they called her, I have no idea. Well, she was kind of a bitch. When she arrived at our house, she freaked out on our dog, Chloe, who was still sad over the loss of our other cat, Bogey. The two of them used to lay in the sunny spot in the family room and nuzzle and lick each other. So, sweet little Chloe was so excited to have a new friend, but Daphne swiped at Chloe's face, hissed, and hid under an end table for the first few days. They were able to co-exist peacefully, but Chloe always had this little hopeful look on her face, like "Let's be friends today?" Let's just say that when Chloe passed away, Daphne immediately took up residency on the mat that Chloe used to always lay on by the front door, and she actually sauntered around the house. Bitchiness aside (she was a cat, afterall), she was very soft and would occasionally let you love her.
One early evening, I was taking a nap in my bedroom at my mom's house and I heard the sound of cats fighting. All of our cats were inside/outside cats, but ours usually wouldn't be let out during the evening, so I just assumed is was the legendary stray we called "Blacky." I put my head back down and went to sleep.
The next day, when I saw Daphne, she had been hurt! No doubt by Blacky, that punk. She was like a different cat for a week. I know this sounds silly, but I think Blacky raped her, and I feel horrible that I didn't get out of bed and investigate. I could have saved her.
For some reason, this made the husbo laugh. So, I understand cat rapes aren't talked about that often, so yes, it's weird. I was sad thinking about it, so I came back at him with, "It's not funny. It was a cat-tastrophe."
Then, because we're both horrible people, we both laughed, which made me feel even more guilty. I'm sorry Daphne, but just remember the one time we laid together on the steps and you let me pet and love you for like 10 solid minutes, and the you tried to eat my face? I thought so.
Last night, after we turned off the TV, we heard a terrible cat sound from outside. We have quite a few strays that hang around our block that we think the neighbors kind of take care of. Anyway, the sound reminded me of something that happened years ago, so I told him the story.
I explained that I hated that sound, because it made me feel extremely guilty. Here is what happened:
We had a wonderful cat named Daphne. She was owned by a bandmate of my brother who had many animals and just had a baby, so they needed to down-size. Why they would ever get rid of Love-puss, which is what they called her, I have no idea. Well, she was kind of a bitch. When she arrived at our house, she freaked out on our dog, Chloe, who was still sad over the loss of our other cat, Bogey. The two of them used to lay in the sunny spot in the family room and nuzzle and lick each other. So, sweet little Chloe was so excited to have a new friend, but Daphne swiped at Chloe's face, hissed, and hid under an end table for the first few days. They were able to co-exist peacefully, but Chloe always had this little hopeful look on her face, like "Let's be friends today?" Let's just say that when Chloe passed away, Daphne immediately took up residency on the mat that Chloe used to always lay on by the front door, and she actually sauntered around the house. Bitchiness aside (she was a cat, afterall), she was very soft and would occasionally let you love her.
One early evening, I was taking a nap in my bedroom at my mom's house and I heard the sound of cats fighting. All of our cats were inside/outside cats, but ours usually wouldn't be let out during the evening, so I just assumed is was the legendary stray we called "Blacky." I put my head back down and went to sleep.
The next day, when I saw Daphne, she had been hurt! No doubt by Blacky, that punk. She was like a different cat for a week. I know this sounds silly, but I think Blacky raped her, and I feel horrible that I didn't get out of bed and investigate. I could have saved her.
For some reason, this made the husbo laugh. So, I understand cat rapes aren't talked about that often, so yes, it's weird. I was sad thinking about it, so I came back at him with, "It's not funny. It was a cat-tastrophe."
Then, because we're both horrible people, we both laughed, which made me feel even more guilty. I'm sorry Daphne, but just remember the one time we laid together on the steps and you let me pet and love you for like 10 solid minutes, and the you tried to eat my face? I thought so.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Mama Mia
My mom is amazing. Right now, she is dealing with way more than her fair share in regards to taking care of my Mom-Mom, or grandmother.
She is one of 5 siblings. Her only sister lives in Florida. Her one brother, let's call him "Money-Bags," lives nearby, and while very helpful in the department of money and providing chiropractic treatments for Mom-Mom, he is otherwise out of touch. Another brother lives in a duplex with Mom-Mom, and also provides monetarily for her, but due to some stuff that went down recently does not talk to her or visit her on her side of the house. The last brother has gone off the deep end.
More on that one, because it really affects the situation now. About a year ago, his wife decided she wanted a divorce. He moved out of their house (oh, which is a really nice house because her parents won a multi-million dollar lottery), and back to the other house they own, which is on the same street as my mom's house and my Mom-Mom's duplex. This summer he started acting very odd.
In the past, he was known as the funny uncle. He always had a lot of friends and was the guy that made everyone laugh. All of a sudden he became very negative and paranoid. He would be at a family gathering and just disappear. He started writing rambling notes and leaving them all over the place. He thought that there were cameras and recording equipment everywhere. He went to the police station early one morning with a note that made them surround my mom's block with SWAT team members. The police took him to a mental health facility, but he signed himself out the next day. He returned that same week and was transferred to a facility that required him to stay and receive medication and actually have a hearing before he was allowed out. He was there a few weeks, and upon returning, he seemed better, but he was withdrawn.
Recently, he started acting strange again. My mom had me talk to him as a kind of intervention, since I'm no stranger to mental health issues or even the one facility he had to go to. The next day he checked himself back in, but he's out one day later.
Anyway, he was the only other person that was helping my mom take care of Mom-Mom. But, my mom had to change the locks, because when he visits with Mom-Mom he acts so strangely that it upsets her, even though she doesn't always know which end is up.
So now, my mom is the only person physically taking care of Mom-Mom, and she has to worry if her brother is going to do something crazy, while the rest of the siblings are far away or not dealing with it. I try and cook and send my leftovers to Mom-Mom, so my mom doesn't have to worry about cooking, but I know that's just a small thing.
On top of everything, my mom is still (but hopefully not for long) married to my father, and he has his own mental health issues.
Oh yeah, and my mom has 5 kids of her own.
She is the most selfless person I have ever known, and it makes me so sad that at 61, she has the weight of the world on her shoulders.
She is one of 5 siblings. Her only sister lives in Florida. Her one brother, let's call him "Money-Bags," lives nearby, and while very helpful in the department of money and providing chiropractic treatments for Mom-Mom, he is otherwise out of touch. Another brother lives in a duplex with Mom-Mom, and also provides monetarily for her, but due to some stuff that went down recently does not talk to her or visit her on her side of the house. The last brother has gone off the deep end.
More on that one, because it really affects the situation now. About a year ago, his wife decided she wanted a divorce. He moved out of their house (oh, which is a really nice house because her parents won a multi-million dollar lottery), and back to the other house they own, which is on the same street as my mom's house and my Mom-Mom's duplex. This summer he started acting very odd.
In the past, he was known as the funny uncle. He always had a lot of friends and was the guy that made everyone laugh. All of a sudden he became very negative and paranoid. He would be at a family gathering and just disappear. He started writing rambling notes and leaving them all over the place. He thought that there were cameras and recording equipment everywhere. He went to the police station early one morning with a note that made them surround my mom's block with SWAT team members. The police took him to a mental health facility, but he signed himself out the next day. He returned that same week and was transferred to a facility that required him to stay and receive medication and actually have a hearing before he was allowed out. He was there a few weeks, and upon returning, he seemed better, but he was withdrawn.
Recently, he started acting strange again. My mom had me talk to him as a kind of intervention, since I'm no stranger to mental health issues or even the one facility he had to go to. The next day he checked himself back in, but he's out one day later.
Anyway, he was the only other person that was helping my mom take care of Mom-Mom. But, my mom had to change the locks, because when he visits with Mom-Mom he acts so strangely that it upsets her, even though she doesn't always know which end is up.
So now, my mom is the only person physically taking care of Mom-Mom, and she has to worry if her brother is going to do something crazy, while the rest of the siblings are far away or not dealing with it. I try and cook and send my leftovers to Mom-Mom, so my mom doesn't have to worry about cooking, but I know that's just a small thing.
On top of everything, my mom is still (but hopefully not for long) married to my father, and he has his own mental health issues.
Oh yeah, and my mom has 5 kids of her own.
She is the most selfless person I have ever known, and it makes me so sad that at 61, she has the weight of the world on her shoulders.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Fajitas
The next time you eat fajitas, you should do what the husbo does.
He puts the tortillas he's going to use in a pile. Then, he assembles the first fajita on top. As he eats that first one, anything that falls out lands in the next tortilla.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
He is a genius.
He thinks I am the genius, because when presented with individually foil-wrapped pads of butter in a restaurant for bread, I just unwrap it a little and spread it directly on the bread, sans knife. I thought it was just common sense.
He puts the tortillas he's going to use in a pile. Then, he assembles the first fajita on top. As he eats that first one, anything that falls out lands in the next tortilla.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
He is a genius.
He thinks I am the genius, because when presented with individually foil-wrapped pads of butter in a restaurant for bread, I just unwrap it a little and spread it directly on the bread, sans knife. I thought it was just common sense.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Tanning and Coffee
Am I the only one that thinks tanning is the most ridiculous thing ever?
First off, I just think people's natural skin color looks better.
And, um, skin cancer? We know that protecting yourself from uv rays helps prevent skin cancer, so, how about avoiding it? No? Because you like to look orange? Okay.
Now, if you enjoy being in the sun and you don't burn, I guess the result isn't so bad. But if you actually pay to go to a tanning salon, so you're paying to look orange and expose yourself to skin cancer, you need your head examined.
On to the next order of business. Coffee.
I understand most people need some caffeine in their day. Maybe the reason I always seemed tired compared to other people is that I almost never drink caffeinated drinks. But, this is what I suggest.
Make your coffee at home, because I think it would cut down on stupid driving maneuvers into Dunkin Donuts and Wawas during morning rush-hour traffic. If you are making a right into these places, fine, but if making a left is your only morning coffee option, sorry, you have to make it at home.
First off, I just think people's natural skin color looks better.
And, um, skin cancer? We know that protecting yourself from uv rays helps prevent skin cancer, so, how about avoiding it? No? Because you like to look orange? Okay.
Now, if you enjoy being in the sun and you don't burn, I guess the result isn't so bad. But if you actually pay to go to a tanning salon, so you're paying to look orange and expose yourself to skin cancer, you need your head examined.
On to the next order of business. Coffee.
I understand most people need some caffeine in their day. Maybe the reason I always seemed tired compared to other people is that I almost never drink caffeinated drinks. But, this is what I suggest.
Make your coffee at home, because I think it would cut down on stupid driving maneuvers into Dunkin Donuts and Wawas during morning rush-hour traffic. If you are making a right into these places, fine, but if making a left is your only morning coffee option, sorry, you have to make it at home.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Scabies
I have horrible skin. In my early 20s, I got the acne of a pubescent boy who sleeps face down in a pizza box. Most makeups, soaps, lotions, etc. compound the problem.
In addition, my skin has bizarre and mysterious reactions a few times a week. Today alone, some kind of hives or rash popped up on my arm and neck. Both have disappeared, but now my forehead itches. It's not just itchy, I actually get hives that are white and red little bumps. Once in my life, I got a case of hives that broke out over my entire body, lasted for over a week, and caused me to end up in the ER because I was scratching so hard I was bleeding, but they wouldn't give me steroids because they raise your blood sugar and I'm diabetic. My whole body swelled, I was out of school for a week, and I barely slept. It was horrible, and I still don't know what caused it. About once a year I get a crazy case of hives from stress.
One time, I started to get a rash across my stomach. Because I worked in an elementary school, where gross things spread rapidly, like lice, pink eye, and ringworm, I always freak out when I think I have something like that. So, I decided to try and diagnose my rash. I determined that I might have scabies.
I didn't really. The hives went away a few hours later, but I love the sound of the word scabies.
So now, every time there is something wrong with me, by default, I say, "I think I have scabies!" The husbo and I enjoy it.
Besides never having scabies, I have also been spared lice and ring worm. The pink eye finds me almost every year that I spend in an elementary school. Since I haven't been in one with the regularity of years' past, I have avoided it so far.
Here's something that I am relieved to never have been afflicted with. I remember a friend telling me about them during lunch one school day. Needless to say, I couldn't eat or be at ease for the rest of the day. When I learned about them in biology, I felt like I might pass out. I dissected a cat and a cow's eyeball with ease, but the idea of those put me over the edge.
In addition, my skin has bizarre and mysterious reactions a few times a week. Today alone, some kind of hives or rash popped up on my arm and neck. Both have disappeared, but now my forehead itches. It's not just itchy, I actually get hives that are white and red little bumps. Once in my life, I got a case of hives that broke out over my entire body, lasted for over a week, and caused me to end up in the ER because I was scratching so hard I was bleeding, but they wouldn't give me steroids because they raise your blood sugar and I'm diabetic. My whole body swelled, I was out of school for a week, and I barely slept. It was horrible, and I still don't know what caused it. About once a year I get a crazy case of hives from stress.
One time, I started to get a rash across my stomach. Because I worked in an elementary school, where gross things spread rapidly, like lice, pink eye, and ringworm, I always freak out when I think I have something like that. So, I decided to try and diagnose my rash. I determined that I might have scabies.
I didn't really. The hives went away a few hours later, but I love the sound of the word scabies.
So now, every time there is something wrong with me, by default, I say, "I think I have scabies!" The husbo and I enjoy it.
Besides never having scabies, I have also been spared lice and ring worm. The pink eye finds me almost every year that I spend in an elementary school. Since I haven't been in one with the regularity of years' past, I have avoided it so far.
Here's something that I am relieved to never have been afflicted with. I remember a friend telling me about them during lunch one school day. Needless to say, I couldn't eat or be at ease for the rest of the day. When I learned about them in biology, I felt like I might pass out. I dissected a cat and a cow's eyeball with ease, but the idea of those put me over the edge.
Friday, February 13, 2009
If I Were a Russian Circus Performer...
My name would be:
Flaming Ioann!
It sounds like filet mignon.
No?
Try it again.
See?!
Flaming Ioann!
It sounds like filet mignon.
No?
Try it again.
See?!
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