Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Broke as a Joke

After several failed attempts at self-diagnosis on WebMD I finally bit the bullet and called my girly doc to make an appointment. 
"I think I've got a nether-region infection," I said to the girl on the other side of the line.  "I don't know what it is but my girly part area is not happy and I need to see someone. Or, er, someone needs to look at me."  After she was done giggling in my ear she made an appointment with me to see Regina, a very nice PA at my OB-GYN's office. 

I arose from my chair at work carefully, fought the urge to cry out as a pain shot through my groin-al region and hobbled to my car.  I managed to get to St. Mary's and into a teeny parking space with some expert maneuvering on my end and in to the office within fifteen minutes. 

I was weighed (ugh.) and handed a cup (double ugh). 

And then I sat there for an hour.  With no book to read.  And nothing to do but work on my Bookworm Score (3,578,110 and counting!) Luckily I was still dressed otherwise I would've been even more livid than expected.  

Finally, Regina stuck her head in.

"I couldn't find you!  My nurse went to lunch and didn't tell me you were here!"

That's right. 
Me and my achey girl-part were FORGOTTEN!

But she quickly had me strip down and started poking around.  

"Does this hurt?  This?  How about this? Lemmie look at you..."  Regina poked her cold gloved fingers around my thighs and my fluffy areas and then said, "Okay - sit up."

"Well," she said, "you look fine.  But I think you have tendonitis."

"I have tendonitis - - - of the Vagina?"  I laughed so hard that my paper sheet covering my nakedness fluttered from my flailing legs. 

"Well, did you put up a Christmas Tree because you've done something where you've squatted or pulled the muscles-"

"Do I look like a gal who does a lot of physical activities?"  I interrupted and erupted into giggles again. 

"Well... it could've come from - intercourse." She then went on to show me all the positions it could've happened during.   And then went on to say that she wouldn't encourage anything with me on top or Harry on top.  

So - Merry Christmas, Harry - Santa brought you Celibacy!!!!


Summer, my ever-supportive sister wanted to know what kind of sling they made for such an ailment. 

Mom, upon hearing of my diagnosis, said "Do I need to have a talk with Mr. Shivel?"

and Harry, after learning of my brokenness had this to say: "Oh yeah.  I'm good!"

So Merry Christmas to all and to all - bring me some damn ice for my no-no part!  


Monday, December 22, 2008


I am so freakin' bored!

And lord help my frosty soul, I have TRIED to make my own fun. I made an accidental Cat Food meatloaf (ya know - smelled good, but tastes nasty) and ended up eating a tiny bagel for dinner with a pathetic and elderly tomato for accompaniment, instead.   

The only shining part of my otherwise drab and dreary existence on this Manic Monday is that I decided to watch a movie that was highly, and repeatedly, recommended to me. So I sat down, Cat Food Loaf in hand and popped in "Boondock Saints."

I loved it!

A cast of merry (to use the word loosely) characters, not too much blood for an O+ squeamish freak like myself and just enough nakedness of Sean Patrick Flannery (yes I still find him hot after "Powder."  Sue me.) to make me watch the deleted scenes.  Repeatedly.  It had violence, a pinch of sex, a tad bit of twin-brother-bordering-on-incest-love, loyalty, religion and a pretty kickin' soundtrack.   

And I sound like a 12 year old boy with an Xbox-live fetish. 

Okay so I watched the movie, ate a bagel and ended up downstairs on the 'puter trying to google the latest of my many ailments. 
I swear, dudes and dudettes of the world wide whatever -  I do believe the warranty on this chubby lil' sausage casing I drag around on a daily basis has a 3o year expiration and I'm now running out of time!   Ugh. 

Oh - and as a side note, here was the actual toast my dad gave at my sister's birthday dinner yesterday:

Raising his tiny glass of pink kool-aid high (it was the only clean glass left after we'd claimed all the big people ones) my dad smiled with his new teeth and said:
"To all the kisses I've snatched and vice versa!"

Another tiny bit of me died on my mother's new linoleum floor right there.    

Happy Monday!!!!!!

Saturday, December 20, 2008

Catnip Scented Clouds Await Him

After twenty years of being a loving and wonderful housecat, Silver Mercedes Adkins fell asleep in his La-Z-boy Recliner last Thursday and passed on to that Catnip Scented Cloud in the heavens.   He will be missed...

Some animals have instincts to know when their owners are hurting or sad and when my first love, my high school sweetheart of three years (which is an eon in teenage years) left me for a Salt Rock-ian native with a humpback, I was devastated.  I wanted to speak to no one.  I wanted to see no one.   And yet here was Silver, immediately pushing open my door so hard that it banged hard against the footboard of my antique cast iron bed.  He grumbled at me and walked in a circle and then hopped on the bed where he put one delicate foot on my arm and meowed in my face in understanding.  And with that dose of fishy breath I felt better.   He stayed with me that night.  And many night after.  
It's funny how when we're in such pain, when it feels like our heart has not only been broken but has packed up, left town and moved to Mexico to work as a llama breeder and that no person can comfort us that our pets can reach us and pull us up to realize that there's more to life than love and heartbreak.  After all - we still have cat food and cat toys to buy!

We buried him in the rock garden.   After 20 years of trying to get outside, of darting like a silver streak from between our legs, Silver has finally gotten his wish...  Rest in peace little kitty of mine...  And watch for Phoebe - you know how she likes to smack you around...

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Migraine Pain and Funtimes

I felt the tingles last night and I knew that the sleeping beast was slumbering no longer. Like a stealthy and sneaky paparazzi, I could feel him lingering on my peripheral and trying to push himself upon my vision, my life. But I ignored him, the Migraine that lingered.

I banished him with a pain pill and closed my eyes by 10pm in hopes of a bright and cheerful morning. Instead I found myself lying awake at 4am with my head in the grips of a tug of war between the pain and the nausea.

It got the best of me.

It won.

I called in sick to work and wallowed in the blackness of my life for the majority of the day.

Until I decided to get up to get some food.
And then I locked myself out of my bedroom.
Yes, that's right.
I'm that good.
I can be miserable to the point that I'm sure no more misery exists and then I put a flimsy-yet-oddly-impervious door between me and my sanctuary.

A tiny screwdriver, a kitchen knife and enough curse words to damn us all to hell, and I was back in bed.

I'm doing better now, my head is starting to look more Holly-shaped again and my bedroom door is not fully pulled close so no danger of a repeat lockout.

And I managed to wrap and put another one of Harry's presents under the tree last night. that makes, er, uh, five for him and - zero for me.

I think Santa finally figured out that my inclusion on the "nice" list was an oopsie!

I better at least get coal! And fruitcake!


Friday, December 5, 2008

Thanksgiving Leftovers

After an uncomfortable silence following the questioning of the missing "Thanks" in our Thanksgiving dinner my small and compact grandmother sat back in her chair, stuck a fork in her corn casserole and asked, "Why do Pilgrims' pants keep falling off?"

Fearing the punchline we all nervously began laughing and started loudly asking for seconds even though the first bits of the meal were still sitting on our plates. My grandmother has a knack for telling jokes wrong and for telling wrong jokes and we're always on edge when her lips open as we never know what words will drip from her reddened lips.

I stiffened and thought of all the punchline possibilities in snippets "oh good lord! Something about "his bird" or a turkey... gobbler? Missionary? Would it be wrong to accidentally toss a plate at her head?"

I couldn't stop it.

Her lips parted, the corn casserole was stabbed again and then, she spoke: "Cuz they wear their belt buckles on their hats."

Relieved laughter bubbled up from my family and Nan-nan looked thorougly impressed that she was able to bring an entire table to giggles just by using her wit.
"Oh, mom," my mother said as she shook her head at her own mother. "You are so getting blogged!"

Later, as Nan-nan was leaving, I could tell she was still lifted by the success of her comedy. "Isn't this pretty?" she said as she wrapped herself in a black fuzzy cloak and picked up her various bags of food and one disturbing bag of a baby doll in a loincloth (he was to be baby Jesus in the Christmas Program). "I got this in Columbus with Gwen when we went shopping..." she dragged her perfectly manicured hands across the cloak's sleeve.

I kissed her smooth cheek and let her out the front door to join my aunt and uncle as they left for the evening and turned to look at my leftover dinner guests.

"I bought that," my mother said with a look of pure astonishment on her face. "I bought that coat last year and haven't seen it since!"

And again, my grandmother left us in stunned silence followed by large peals of laughter.

I'm planning on renting her out for parties.

Any takers?

Thursday, December 4, 2008

Have Yourself a Crappy Little Christmas

Last year's Christmas was horrible, to say the least. Harry and I lost so much, even though I wasn't even sure I wanted it. And yet the world turned, people drank eggnog (for some reason - that stuff is ucky), carols were sung and food was devoured. My family still gathered in Branchland, WV, exchanged presents and called to wish us a "Merry Christmas."

So I vowed last January that the 2008 Christmas would be spectacular. With so many lights that my house could be seen by the little green men on Mars. But as soon as I was filled with the bedazzled holy spirit of Christmas and started making eyes at my husband I knew it was not to be. He whined, he moaned and I cussed, cursed and hit at him. Repeatedly.

Luckily that's all it took to make him lug out our mostly new Martha Stewart "Never Out" tree and begin assembling. He wrestled the bottom from the box, carefully placed it in the stand and plugged it in to behold all of it's pre-lit wonder.

One whole section was dark.

Four green and non-lit branches mocked us and our failing Christmas spirit.

I hopped up from the couch and began a string of curse words that barely ended as I shoved my face into the effeminate face of the Kmart sales guy who offered these helpful words "Oh - you bought it last year? And now it doesn't work? Have you contacted the manufacturer?" I held myself together and managed not to shout "No, dickforbrains, I routinely pull out my pre-lit Christmas trees and plug them in just to make sure they still freakin' work! I mean, EVERYONE does that, right?" And I only barely managed to make it out of the glaringly bright and soul-sucking store without jamming him in the eye with the mascara wands that were right at hand.

"Hey, wait!" Harry was under the tree and was looking very much like the tree version of a gynecologist as he brushed the undercarriage of the darkened limbs. "Ahah!" The branches glowed warmly and lit up my husband's upturned and smiling face. "A light had fallen out!"

So what Martha Stewart meant in her "Never out" claim was that if a bulb burns out the rest will remain lit but if one falls out - you're royally screwed.

But my jolly spirit wasn't done being tried, yet - oh no.

Even though Christmas was not moved, cancelled or anything of the like for my shattered self last year, my cousin's inability to attend Christmas Eve at my grandmother's house means that the whole ordeal has to be moved. And now Harry and I probably won't be able to attend due to other familial obligations.

I'm the Grinch, I tell ya. Before the heart-growing scene.
That's me.
Holly the Grinch.