Flashback Thursday

They say that the reason certain smells can stir up old memories is because the "smelling parts" of our brain are sitting right next to the "memory parts." Today at work, it was not a smell that brought back vivid images of grade school, it was an act of kindness. You see, I have many allergies that require lots of ingredient reading when I shop for groceries. However, every once in a while I just "ASSUME" something looks safe enough to eat. Well, you know what happens when you ASSUME (so I won't tell you). Anyway, after preparing a Lean Cuisine for lunch, I quickly noticed that there were nuts in it. I mean, really, who puts nuts on butternut squash ravioli? Apparently Lean Cuisine, so now my lunch will only consist of an Activia yogurt, which also contains questionable allergens like strawberries. As I pulled out my spoon to eat my sad lunch, a friend from across the table offered to give me her lunch so I could eat. I admit I DO love penne in cream sauce....so what happened next brought back floods of Catholic school memories. My friend and I traded lunches. Yes, we actually switched lunches so I could eat and she could enjoy the plethora of veggies that came with my nutty lunch. (she had been eye-ing those veggies since I opened the package) It was a win-win situation and it made me feel young again :)

In honor of "feeling young," I have found some old digital images that I don't remember making, but are just plain silly. K and I had begun dating and we must've found some program that allowed you to insert faces. When I found these pics, I laughed so hard.... Enjoy.

I don't want to feel your groove...feel it yourself!

Our best attempt at being Southern.

Holy microcephaly Batman!

Hmmmmm. Me as a blonde....no, not so much.

Evil Eggrolls

For all who know me, you realize that I am walking medical disaster. If there is an obscure disease or symptom, I have most likely experienced it. From getting the mumps in college to having the whites of my eyes swell up and fall onto my face, I have pretty much had it all. The latest in wacky medical diagnoses is a possible h. pylori infection, which may be causing all of my stomach problems.

Last night was the first time in a long time that I actually felt hungry. I mean really hungry. The kind of hunger that can only be satiated with a large order of sweet & sour chicken, rice, and and an eggroll....mmmmm chicken. So being the supportive husband that K is, he allowed me to indulge in my greasy fantasy of food. We went and picked it up together and the smell called to me as it permeated through the brown paper bag. Once home, we chose a movie to watch with dinner. (note to self: Do not choose to watch movies during dinner about those whose job it is to clean up after someone has died) Now granted, the movie was slightly slow, but it was not my intention to liven things up THIS much. After eating my deliciously sinful eggroll (which I never get to eat because I ALWAYS give it to K), my lip begins to catch on my braces. "Ouch,"I think. Wonder why this is catching all of a sudden... Well, within a few minutes, I had my answer. Next, my throat began to get scratchy and then a little swollen. I looked in the bathroom mirror, and it looked like K had punched me in the lip and in the neck. I started to panic a little. I have an epipen, but it expired like 2 months ago. As the seconds tick by, K is asking me to make a decision as to whether to take Benedryl or go to the hospital. I choose Benedryl because the thought of needles in my thigh sounds unpleasant. 5 minutes later, everything changes as I lose my airway. I am begging to go to the hospital and wishing for Star Trek powers to teleport me there. I didn't care if they were going to stick a needle in my eye, I needed help!!!

Once there, I get to skip registration and go directly to the treatment rooms. They see that my airway is mostly blocked and a flurry of people surround me. One is taking my blood pressure, one is sticking tongue depressors down my throat, another is trying to get medical history from K, the whole thing was very quick. The doctor jots notes on the bed paper. The nurses leave and return with a few needles. One for my thigh (adreneline) and one for my bum :( (Benedryl). Things begin to calm down and my airway starts to return. I feel jittery from the adreneline and sleepy from all the Benedryl in my system.

At home, my legs are overcome with restlessness. I feel the need to thrash around. I am tired but can't relax. As the hours go by, I lose all feeling in my left thigh except for a sharp burning sensation that penetrates deep to the bone. At 2am I am googling what is happening to me. It appears one of 2 things is going on. 1) they gave me too much adreneline or 2) and this is likely the winner.....I am allergic to the adreneline. Can you believe this? I may actually be allergic to only thing that stops a severe allergic reaction!!!! This is so the story of my life. Weird and bizarre stuff that only happens to me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Me duele el estomago!

Today is my first day returning to work after being struck down by the Joseph Stalin of all stomach viruses. It was probably a bad idea to come in today. I am sure they frown upon employees who are so ill that they are basically useless and non-functioning. I have had my eye on the biohazard bin for 20 minutes, ready to give it a hug (and my noodle soup that I just ate).

Being that I am my father's child, I am quite stubborn, and therefore have not yet visited a doctor for my stabbing stomach pains. Instead I tried to be resourceful and diagnose myself on WebMD. This was an interesting experience that entailed me pointing and clicking on various body parts and choosing my symptoms. How fun! Apparently all of my symptoms prompted a red box to appear each time and direct me to going to the nearest medical professional. Afterwards, it provided me a list of potential "culprits." ....I think I am scared now. What I thought was a traditional mean-spirited stomach flu may actually be tuberculosis, hepatitis, pancreatitis, H. pylori, thalassemia, or maybe just a drug overdose. Thanks WebMD. The internet is a scary place.


As I continue to fight off the most resilient stomach virus known to man, I am grateful for many things. At this particular moment in time, I am grateful for having a majority of our hardwood floors completed. To save ourselves time, energy and having to temporarily relocate, we have chosen to have prefinished hardwood installed. No sanding, no polying, and no dust! All of the wood was laid yesterday and was immediately ready for furniture and dog traffic. It has been a long road to getting our home back to normal and the end is in sight. I figured Neo and Nala would want to run all over the floors. but this was their first reaction..... :)

my thoughts exactly, Neo....

Living in a subfloor wasteland

For the faithful followers of this ever-so-personal-blog, today's blog is a much anticipated sequel to Indoor Waterfalls ......Here's a question...Who has ever taken all of the furniture out of a part of their dwelling, removed all of the flooring, and then tried living there? Ooh ooh! Pick me! Pick me! Yes, that's right. I now live in a subfloor wasteland where voices (and barks) constantly echo. Where there was once beauteous hardwood and plush furniture, there is only plywood and the occasional piece of forgotten tar paper. Nothing thrills me more than coming downstairs in the morning for breakfast and catching my socks on remaining staples. Mmmmm, the joy of homeownership.

Sad

Sadder

Saddest

I received a call the other day from the tile guy who seemed confused. He was not sure why there was no house-key left outside when he decided to "unexpectedly" stop by to take some measurements. I told him I was sorry and didn't realize he was coming. If he called I would've made arrangements for him to be there. (Sounds normal enough, right?) He went on to say that after looking through my windows, he didn't think there was any way that anyone could be living there. (this is where my faith in his tile skills begin to diminish) "I agree that it looks sparse inside (thank you for looking so hard) but surely you saw my 2 ferocious beasts looking back at you." He then said, "Oh ya...I met your dogs" My first thoughts are 1) are you the type of person that thinks it's normal to leave animals behind when you move out? and 2)Hello?? 2+2 folks. Where there are dogs, there are owners!!! I ended the conversation after he told me that to make a 2 inch single straight cut on each tile would cost me an additional $1.50 per sq ft on top of the $6 per sq ft he was already charging me in labor alone to install tile. Ya. Thanks but No. I will pick a different pattern. Let's just hope that despite this guy's lack of deductive reasoning, he knows his tile.

For everyone wondering what we do during dinner time, the following is a picture of the latest in home dining decor.

Yes, we now eat at dog level. The pups don't mind. They actually don't bother us much except for the fact that Neo seems annoyed that we have commandeered his cushy bed. Nala eats her bone right along side of us.

Dear Di Giorno,

I am not a fan of pizza by nature. Every once in a while I will be American and eat a slice or two with friends. That being said, I needed to fix dinner quickly for K and visiting bro WB. WB is a college student, so I figured pizza would water his tastebuds. I did not, however, have any in the house. So I went to the good ol grocery store to pick up a fancy frozen one. You see, DiGiorno has come out with a "New, Exciting" foccacia bread pizza that admittingly does look yummy through the freezer door. Lucky for me they are buy-1-get-1-free this week. So since I must choose 2, K picks one (supreme meat) and I pick one (veggie lover's). Now I'm getting excited, The box looks yummy and now my stomach is starting to rumble....

I arrive home and prepare to simultaneously cook both pizzas using the lesser-known "speedbake" function on my oven. This button is magic. It can cook (most) things thoroughly in like 1/2 the time. Warning: Do not use speedbake when baking a cake. It will make your cake appear mutant-like and strange. I digress. Anyway, I open the package for the super 3 meat trio and my first thought is......OMG they put the wrong pizza in the wrong box. This was because the pizza looked like someone had already picked off half of the toppings.

This was a "supreme" pizza?? More like a "supreme" disappointment. Grrr. What to do now? Well I had 2 other hungry boys to feed so I had no choice but to cook the scarce-meat pizza. Don't worry. DiGiorno will be hearing from me. I want my 7$ back, and not some coupon that forces me to eat this pathetic excuse for a pizza again.

K is sad because of the pitiful pizza

Even Nala is depressed and shuns the pizza..

Battles on the Blood Bus

This week I did something that I have never done before.....I donated blood. With a little convincing from a few co-workers, I decided that there is no reason I shouldn't. So without an excuse I crossed the street from work and went over to the medical examiner's building where the infamous "Blood Bus" was parked. I always wondered what it looked like in there, but was always too afraid to venture. Images of gargantuan needles pranced in my head.

When I boarded the blood bus, it was cool and nicely air-conditioned. I figured they had to do this because of the number of people who likely pass out from donating. I was pretty sure that I would only be giving one pint, but I couldn't be certain because on their website and their donor cards, it asks you "number of gallons donated." What?? Gallons? I know I am not a small person, but surely I couldn't spare a gallon...

When I got on the bus, they wooed me with a 5$ giftcard to Qdoba and an entry form for a free vacation. My suspicions grew. Why are they doing this? I felt the temperature in bus rise a little. (thank God for AC) Next, I needed to fill out a computerized questionnaire that asked everything from my experience with drug users to my recent travel plans. Strange, but I knew it had a purpose. I must have been nervous because when they went over my answers with me (in a VERY tiny room) I had apparently put down that I was in the military and had Hepatitis... neither of which is true. So after that was all cleared up, I got a finger prick (ouch) to test my iron level. It's normally low, but I guess my double cheeseburger the night before helped to boost it to passing level. I was now officially ready to donate.

The phlebotomist called my name. I layed in a very comfortable S-shaped chair/couch thingy so they could access my apparently beautiful arm veins. She cleaned the area, and then showed my the needle....Uhhhhhh, I wanted to run off the bus, but knew it was too late. Then she did something that was probably uncalled for. Since I was wearing a white shirt, she told me "Uh-Oh, you're wearing white. I have terrible luck with people who wear white. Blood tends to splatter." SPLATTER? How the hell does that happen? Oh -God please help me. So she counted from one to three and I turned my head. Just as I did that, she says "Argggg, I knew that would happen!!!" I look over and there is blood all over me. Up my arm, on my shirt, all over. I yell (not appreciated). I say "what are you doing?" (also not appreciated). She cleans me up and the bag begins to fill....very quickly. I'm a juicy one, they say. She gives me soda to sip so I won't get woozy. I proceed to spill it on my new white blouse. People are laughing. As soon as the bag is filled, I get to pick a color bandage for the hole in my arm and then I am allowed to go to the back of the bus and pick out some snacks and a free backpack. More free stuff? This is awesome.

Anyway, the experience wasn't as horrific as I imagined but still inevitably complicated and comical. All in all, I helped save 3 lives, so it was well worth it!

The Replacements

Do you ever get the feeling that you're....replaceable? Well, I do. Mainly in the mornings after I get up and get ready for work. My lovely husband gets to sleep in for almost an hour past when I have awaken (I am so jealous). I love my husband would love to be able to spend more quality time with him. I thought our bond was strong. However, there is another female in his life who is quick to take my place in bed the minute I hop into the shower. Yes, that's right. It's Nala. This little bugaboo is stealth and very smart. She understands that pillows are for heads and your feet (or back legs) go towards the end of the bed. Mmmm hmmmm. The picture says it all.




See the lump on the bottom right? Well, that's her partner in crime, Neo. He will do whatever she does, so naturally that means he gets in the bed too. I don't mind because they are so damn cute, but come on guys.....do you really need my pillow?? This equates to many changes of the pillowcases and sheets.



Are you comfortable?? Can I get you anything? A toy perhaps? My goodness. Anyway, there is one more habit that Nala has that I'm not even sure K knows about (because he's off in dreamland). When I am done with my shower and ready to get dressed, I will decide the day's wardrobe in the closet. As I do this, Nala will inevitably perch her little face on K's body and watch what I am doing. I think Nala secretly has a fashion obsession. Backstory: Nala, although muscular and foreboding, loves to wear scarves. Yes, scarves. She especially likes my cashmere one. She will parade around with her head held high and a doggie smile on her face. So the picture below is how Nala got the nickname "Face." I love our pups. They provide so much entertainment and they probably don't even realize it.

A Precautionary Post

I realize that I didn't write a blog this weekend. That's probably because nothing extremely exciting happened. (which is unusual, so now I'm on alert) K and the doggies and I went on a 5 mile hike on Saturday and then just K and I went on a 6 mile hike on Sunday. Am I tired? Slightly. Am I glad I went? Of course!

Ok, so today's post is brought to you by my obsession of TruTV (formerly Court TV) and probably some slight paranoia. I went to the grocery store on my way home today to get some things for the week...bananas, frozen lunches, snacks, tomatoes, and veggies. As I was perusing the chip display (I can be so indecisive), there seemed to be many people in the same aisle doing the same thing. There was a man at the end of the aisle that I noticed immediately....mainly because he looked like Steve Buscemi....and also because he was staring me dead in the eyes. It freaked me out a little so I looked down and tried to choose the appropriate chip. This just made things much more difficult and now I couldn't focus. He walked by me (closer than need be) and just kept making eye contact. "Phew" I thought. Thank God he's gone! I can now thoughtfully choose between Cheetos and Tostitos. I reach for a bag and noticed, out of the corner of my eye, that Freaky Pete is back in my aisle...again looking at me from afar. I pick up the Cheetos and start to leave. He walks past me again and says "Hello. How are you?" At this point, images flash before my eyes. Images of this guy with a shovel and me in a plastic bag. I realize that if my gut is right (and it usually is), my response was critical. If I looked disgusted with him and didn't respond, he could be reminded of all the girls that rejected him and high school and he'd definitely off me. However, if I was too friendly, he might try to start up a conversation and get me to tell him where I lived or something. So I decided that I needed to be as neutral as possible. I just smiled and nodded and kept walking. As fate would have it, he ended up checking out at about the same time (all the while glancing over). I figured it would end there. I went to get gas which was right outside, when I saw that he was now getting gas. Grrrrr! I just wanted him to go away. The only open pump was next to his....of course. If my gas gauge didn't say I had only a few miles until I ran out of gas, I would have gone elsewhere. With my luck, I would have run out of gas down the street and he would've stopped to "help."

So there it is. My close encounter with a likely serial killer or rapist. I have never before had such a strong feeling that someone wanted do bad things to me. His eyes were hollow and seemed to go right through me. So in case I disappear in a short while, please find this stranger. He is a white male, maybe late 30's, about 6 feet tall, very thin (maybe 180 lbs), no facial hair, bug eyes (like he has hyperthyroidism or craniosynostosis). He wore jeans and a blue flannel long sleeved shirt and had short light brown hair with a slight combover. He drives an old white Ford (Bronco?) with a black primer-like top. We were at the grocery store around 4:30pm.

I hope I am just paranoid. I hope no one ever has to use this post to retrace my steps. However, one can never be too careful these days. But I guess with thousands of murderers, rapists, and violent people living in the country, your bound to come face to face with one sooner or later. Thank God for gut feelings!