My Disorder...

On Friday night I was talking to my brother on the phone and he asked me if I had blogged about my disorder yet. I laughed and replied, "I don't know that I plan to - it's embarrassing." Then I thought to myself, well, perhaps I will; I mean it's not like I don't write about embarrassing stuff (about myself) all the time. I mean if I can tell you about being a lazy ass and getting a check stub caught in my teeth, I can tell you that 2 weeks ago I had a double skin infection on my abdomen (so to speak) that was both fungal and bacterial; it was painful as hell, required 2 excruciatingly embarrassing Dr's appointments which resulted in me being given 2 different creams, strong antibiotics and instructions to let it air in the air as much as possible. Translation: sit naked under the fan as much as possible, and with that; the Dr. wrote me out of work for a week. OK so I freely admit, this WAS NOT a pretty sight; and I just thank god that my children aren't old enough yet to be completely horrified by the spectacle of their mom sitting half and sometimes totally naked on the couch for a friggin week - OY! One of my worst nightmares. Have I previously mentioned that I DO NOT know how to relax? I am constantly on the go and just don't seem capable of actually relaxing. Don't get me wrong; I often do things that I love and make me happy, it just never seems that I am relaxed while doing them. I love to scrapbook, but then I agonize over how long it takes me to come up with the perfect layout. If I'm sitting on my couch watching TV it's usually because I am folding laundry or paying my bills; so being told to take care of my "disorder" in the manner that it needed to be taken care of, was quite contrary to how I live my life - but I did it, and of course I went back to work earlier than I was supposed to because I am the Queen of Responsibility and I knew that I had too much work to do to be at home. My "disorder" had completely cleared up (which my 5 year old daughter told me was because of her. When I asked how it got better because of her, she explained that she asked God to come and make my "douchie" better. Douchie has evolved into our family word for VaJJ; ) so I went back to work. Well kinda. I worked from home on Monday, went in Tuesday, worked from home on Wed which was the 4th and right before we left for our friend's house, I started to get a wicked sore throat. My sore throat woke me up at 215am at which point I considered going to my office but I thought my bosses would freak when they saw my time clock, so I toughed it out and went in at my customary 530 am. Then, on Thursday night I was giving my daughters a bath and when I went to dry my older daughter off, I noticed that she had a bad rash and dare I say it, a yeast infection? She's five. No five year old should have to endure the agony that is a yeast infection. I called the pediatrician in the morning and she assured me that this was quite common in the summer w/ swimsuits and all and she told me how to help my daughter. Well, I don't know if it was the power of suggestion, or dealing with all of the yeast, but all of a sudden I found myself feeling itchy. It was at this point that I feared I was a hypochondriac and asked my daughter to talk to God about making her douchie better. I told her that God must be wondering what was going on with the Douchies in our house. When the sore throat woke me up at 630 am, I knew I would be paying yet another visit to my Dr's office though I was totally embarrassed to have to be seen again so shortly after my "disorder." I attempted to swallow my pride - but god my throat hurt. I packed up the kids and went in for my appointment. The nurse or assistant or whatever you call them, went to do a throat culture. I panicked for a moment remembering my childhood when it took 3 nurses to hold me down for a throat culture; but as my kids were in the room, I suddenly put my fear aside and became Super Mommy, UNTIL the nurse took so damn long to get the culture that I was kicking and gagging and reached for her arm to stop her. She pulled out (not something you hear often - ha) and informed me that she had to get the culture from my tonsils. I then informed her "I don't have any." OK my confidence in her was a little shaken. She attempted the culture again, which culminated in me gagging like my 8 year old would. I composed myself and asked if they were going to want a urine sample because I NEEDED to go give one. She said "OK, leave it just in case." When my PA - Susie came in; she told me that I didn't have strep; which I thought was a good thing, but she explained "not really; because if it was strep I could give you an antibiotic and for a virus I can't." She then proceeded to look at my throat and I kid you not she looked in, and jumped back (just picture Kramer from Seinfeld in this role;) she said "Oh my god! I don't know how that culture came back negative, but I'm treating you for strep." She said that the rapid test was negative but she was sure that if it was sent to a lab it would come back positive. She then diagnosed a lovely sinus infection in addition to the strep?, and checked the urine screen to confirm a urinary tract infection as well. Although I was dismayed at my luck, I was actually relieved to find out that I in fact was NOT a hypochondriac and I had legitimate, founded ailments. So I won myself a big ole shot in the tush and 2 weeks worth of antibiotics. See what happens when you stay home for a week and do nothing. My body obviously didn't know what to do with itself so it manifested all 3 illnesses. Well since I can't relax, there was no way I was going to let strep?, a sinus infection or UTI stop me; and we kept to our schedule as if nothing had happened. Saturday night we went to my friend Lisa D's and then Sunday, since my husband had taken a rare day off from work,we went up North with our friends David, Jenny and their 3 kids; to beat the heat and spend the day outdoors. Can you say Bumpy Ride? For as long as I can remember, I have held the VERY strong conviction that Jews don't camp. I believe that we probably spent so much time crossing the desert from Egypt to Israel, that an aversion to camping is something that is now passed down in each Jews genes. If any of you are Jews who camp; feel free to contradict me; but I will say that my theory has also been supported by my husband's boss; who is also Jewish. My husband was at work one day and a conversation about camping ensued. My husband said "my wife says Jews don't camp;" to which his boss replied "she's right." Well about a year ago we went up to the lake for my son's Boyscout cookout. Really it was a Boyscout overnight camping trip, but I told the scout leader that my husband would have to work during the day (true) and that we didn't have any camping equipment (true) and that I really didn't consider myself a camper (Damn straight!) I had proposed that we come up for dinner and she said this would be just fine; and that she wished she could just go for dinner too because she didn't really like camping. Well, when we got there, I was truly amazed at what I saw. Tents, nice tents with air mattresses and many comforts of home. There was no sleeping on dirt with bugs crawling on you as I had previously imagined. This actually looked OK. And to my disbelief I found myself saying to my husband "Now, if we could go camping like this - tent, air mattress etc. I think I'd camp." Oh my god - is this the first step to conversion or what? OK, be calm, be calm. That was over a year ago and we have yet to invest in as much as a lantern. Though we have thought about it; especially because we now know a few families who like to camp; and we have said that we would be interested in trying it out. In August we're planning to go to Disneyland with David and Jenny's family; and we were hoping to spend a night or 2 in San Diego while David and Jenny stay there in their camper. They said that they have all kinds of tents and stuff that we could borrow, so I called the campground to find out how much it would be to get a space for a tent, and suffice it to say that $236 is a little too much for me; when I was only thinking of camping as a cheaper alternative to a hotel. Hell no, for $236 I'll take a real bed, a shower, cable and some little shampoos that I can steal from the hotel - thank you. But I digress (back to Sunday...) We took a scenic drive to Prescott, then Williams, had lunch at a really good pizza place worthy of my NY pizza snob palette and headed on to Flagstaff. We had planned to take the sky ride, which is really the ski lift at Snowbowl in the winter. Our destination was what my husband told me was the highest point in Arizona; 11,000 feet above sea level. I was all for it - UNTIL I saw the sign warning that if you were pregnant (not) or had a heart condition (not to my knowledge) you may want to reconsider taking the ride. OK, so I didn't have either of these things to worry about but that didn't stop me from panicking. I almost backed out, using my sinus infection as my excuse - don't ask me what I was thinking. Did I think my nose was going to explode - I dunno, I just know that I got nervous and I had left my asthma inhaler and my Xanax in the car and there was not enough time to go get them because the ride was going to be closing in a few minutes - of course. I agreed to be a trooper instead of Queen of the Wusses, and got on the ride with my 3 year old daughter and proceeded to have a full blown anxiety attack. I remember thinking; I wish that she and I weren't in the last lift of our group. I wish that I was in front of my husband so that if my head blew up or I collapsed, he'd know about it; but unless he was secretly Spiderman and going to be able to throw a web and make it over to my lift - really, what would it matter? I kept telling myself, "relax, take in the beauty "- yah right. My 3 year old wanted to know why there were so many fallen trees. She told me that she thought evil witches had made them fall down. I think it was my sheer delight in having such rare, private moments with her that actually wound up calming me down. All of a sudden I gave in to my fear and relented. I thought if I am going to die here and now, it's God's will. Pretty heavy for a simple ski lift, but alas this is my busy mind at work. My husband kept looking back to check on us and more than 3/4 of the way up he shouted "we're almost there." I sighed with relief as we continued to climb the mountain and then - WE MADE IT!! I was alive! I did it! I was proud and able to really enjoy the beautiful view. I knew that the ride down would be MUCH better than the ride up because I now had nothing to fear and I was riding with my 8 year old son and 5 year old daughter who were not going to shake the lift or climb around as my 3 year old had tried to. I took in the beauty,the quiet and revelled in the sound of the wind blowing. It was a good day; but it wasn't over yet... After we got off the mountain, we headed over to a lake (as if I hadn't had enough outdoors for one day.) My husband had remembered to bring fishing poles for the kids, but forgot to get some hooks. Oh well, I thought, I guess we'll just have to enjoy another beautiful view for a few minutes and get the hell outta Dodge; BUT NOOOO, my resourceful man went scavenging by the lake and found some hooks that people had dropped. Next thing I knew he was digging for some worms so the kids would have bait. There was no turning back now. I knew it was going to be a while so we got out the folding chairs and tried to make ourselves comfortable. My son had made his way onto a rock and was sitting peacefully enjoying the view. He asked if her could take his flip flops off so he could put his feet in the water and I said "OK." Jenny's girls (also 3 and 5 like mine) then asked if they could put their feet in the water, but Jenny said "No." Her 5 year old seemed to take it well, and walked away and got her new shoes caught in the mud. She wanted to rinse off, but it just didn't seem possible. I suggested "in my infinite outdoors/camping wisdom" that she just have her daughter put her foot in the water shoe and all. I guess Jenny didn't think that my idea was so bad because she proceeded to climb out onto the rock that my son had been on, lifted her daughter over, and rinsed off her shoe. Well, I guess it didn't matter to the 3 year olds how or why Jenny's 5 year old got to put her foot in the water, just that she did; and with that, my 3 year old, got herself stuck, and I mean stuck in the mud. Devoted mom that I am; I immediately tried to get over to help her because she had now announced that she had to pee and my husband was convinced that she WOULD NOT make it to the bathroom. In rushing over to my daughter's aide, I too got STUCK in the mud. Now picture this, I'm stuck, can't move and I'm trying to get her underwear off, and help her pee in the water. I think this is when David started taking video on his cell phone. My daughter peed, and I rinsed her off, but I then wanted to rinse myself off; so I dislodged my foot and attempted to climb out onto a rock and ALMOST fell right in - I am NOT the Queen of Balance. I realized that this wasn't a good plan, and stepped back out of the water INTO the mud. I thought I'd give it the old college try one more time and repeated my effort to climb out to the rock and dip me foot in the water; but I still wasn't feeling confident and climbed back out into the mud again. OK say it with me "Jews don't camp." I'm not even convinced that we (I ) shouldn't be banned from outdoor activity altogether. I made it out of the mud and my prince of a husband let me sit in my chair and he took my flip flops into the water and cleaned them off for me; as well as my feet - god do I love that man. Then the man that I love told me that he was surprised that I didn't fall right into the lake and that if that would have happened he would have laughed his ass off. I had to agree, I thought I was going in, and I would have laughed too. I think that David and Jenny might want to reconsider any future outdoor activities with me; as when it comes to "disorders," my dual skin infection may just have been the tip of the iceberg - but hey, I am good for a laugh.
Till next time...
Queen of EVERYTHING

Lucy Incarnate

OK, I know that I have previously likened my life to an I Love Lucy episode and here is a prime example of why:
Try as I may; sometimes common sense just does not prevail. Lately I have been quite diligent, if not obsessed with flossing my teeth with these well, floss picks; if you will. So anyway, today while I was at work, I thought that I felt something between my two front teeth and I kept trying to swipe at it with my tongue; but that wasn’t helping. It would have taken very little effort for me to reach down into my purse and get a floss pick; but no, out of sheer laziness, I guess, I opted to use the corner of a check stub that I was about to discard. (I know - GROSS; and actually I cannot believe that I am admitting this in type, but hey it’s all for the greater good and your amusement.)
Anyway, I gently tried to dislodge whatever it was that I thought I had between my teeth; by using the corner of the check stub, and then - the corner of the stub ripped off and got stuck between my teeth. (Why am I suddenly hearing the voice of Rosanne Rosannadanna right now?) In Roseanne Roseannadanna voice “So I said hey, Queen of EVERYTHING, get that little piece of paper out from between your teeth – you’re making me sick.” LOL (And for those of you who have no idea who Roseanne Roseannadanna is; just re-read and leave that part out, and I am sorry, cause you don’t know what you’re missing.)
Anyway, so the paper is stuck between my teeth and you have NO idea the panic that had now taken over my body. I felt like such a moron; and really, all I could picture was Lucy in the same type of situation. Oh my god, it’s just laughable.
Well now I had no choice. I had to bend down the whole 2 feet and reach into my purse to get the floss pick; and after a few minutes, relief was mine.
I’ll tell ya; for a smart girl, I manage to do some pretty stupid things; but at least I get to share them with you.
Till next time…
Queen of EVERYTHING

How to Catch A Hamburglar

Now this is getting interesting...
Last night I posted my blog about the McDonald's employee and her drawn on, arch eyebrows. I posted a disclaimer (as I have done before) in attempts to excuse myself in case I was insulting anyone who might be reading my blog; because I would feel terrible if I inadvertently hurt someones feelings. I have previously admitted that I am the Queen of Over thinking, to the point where I can just worry myself sick - because although I have been accused of being the Queen of Caustic; I am also the Queen of Sensitivity and I take things to heart way too much.
OK, so I emailed Rachel, Michelle (not yet legally ) K, and Tiffany to let them know that I have posted a new blog, because they usually like to beat the blogarithm- but this was done at about 1020 pm. So, this morning I had gotten an email from Michelle (not yet legally) K and she mentioned the blog; so I checked my comments as I always do, and there were 2, so I assumed that they were both hers, because she often leaves two. I emailed her to thank her and much to my surprise, she told me that she was NOT the Hamburglar and she asked who was. I said "I don't know; I was sure it was you;" but she said "hell no."
Now you see, the Hamburglar inferred that I didn't care about offending people and the way I originally took the comment was as if it was from one of my good buddies and they were making fun of me, so I thought it was funny; but as time came to pass I started to believe that this wasn't the case; and I became perplexed. I mean I'll admit that on a couple of occasions, I've gotten some comments and I wasn't sure who left them, but given the amount of clever friends that I have; this is totally understandable and I've always been able to find out who it was from; but something was now different about this one. It didn't feel FUN anymore.

OK, so the comment was left at 1233 am and I really wasn't sure who left it. It could have been Big V, but she's in Disney World this week and even if she wasn't, she's on the east coast so the time was all wrong. I emailed my brother and asked him if he was the Hamburglar - but he had no idea what I was talking about. Lesa G said that she wanted to leave a comment as Mayor McCheese, but didn't know how to. It wasn't Rachel, Tiff or Lisa B - so who??
Well, my husband and friends are all speculating; and interestingly enough, they all think it is the same person. We've even discussed trying to smoke out the Hamburglar; but how? I tried getting a hold of Michelle (not yet legally) K to see if she wanted to attempt combat with the Hamburglar; but I was unable to reach her. My good friend Lisa B offered to bait the Hamburglar in the comment area; (and buy, I can't thank her enough for being so sweet;) but since I really don't want any more repercussions, I thought I'd try this approach first.
I guess at this point I am just curious to know who the heck the real Hamburglar is, and what there intention was? I would also like to say, that in my defense, (if I need one;) I know that my humor is often sarcastic and yes sometimes at other people's expense; but I think that I tend to make fun of myself more than I make fun of anyone else. So I hope that you can all see it for what it is. I never wanted to make anyone grimace (haha, I couldn't resist.) (FYI - Grimace, you know; big purple guy that lives in McDonaldland.)
Till next time...
Queen of EVERYTHING