Observational Twitter 24

Famous Saying:

“It was the least I could do.” ~unknown

Obscure Saying:

“It was the least I could do…..and I always try to do the least I can do.” ~Robynn

©Copyright 2010

Idiot Day…….I Won.

Next Tuesday, March 9th, in our little town of about a million people (in Fresno County), our local Children’s Hospital of Central California will host an annual event called, “Kids’ Day.” People volunteer and stand on street corners to sell a special edition of The Fresno Bee, featuring info on the hospital and it’s young patients. It’s a great cause and raises much needed money. The kids and I signed up. Bo has had multiple eye surgeries there and The Wild Man has had surgery as well. They have also been hospitalized for flu when they were very young and given the royal treatment. They LOVE Childrens, as the locals call it.

However, what FEW people know is there is a special day exactly one week before this event for brain-dead homeschooling mothers. It is called “Idiots’ Day.”

Not just everyone qualifies. These are the conditions:

• The day before Idiots’ Day your college age daughter must have all her planets line-up with work difficulties, school deadlines, and social obligations colliding at warp speed. This must cause her a meltdown in the way that the polar ice-caps encountering Krakatoa might cause a trickle of water.
• Your long lost brother must give you his office address for mailing for fear you might stalk him at his residence.
• Your pain medication must quit working. Your pain must not.
• Your 14-year-old son must repeatedly make sounds, thump the desk, argue, and fall out of his chair while you teach him Algebra. This will not happen because he is simple. It will happen because he can.
• Your dog must learn to jump the fence for the first time – and does.
• Your mother must call and want to know all the information the attorney disseminated for her, in your presence, the Friday prior. You must disseminate it again.
• You must call your nephew at Cornell and wish him a happy birthday into his cell phone message center and worry that in the past three months, none of your phone calls, texts, or emails have been returned and decide whether or not to consider foul play or police contact.
• As you share your day with your husband, he must tell you about a friend whose homeschooling wife is leaving him AND the children. You know you should sympathize but instead you ask if there is room in her car. Your husband will reply, “No,” as he has already claimed the extra seat. He informs you that HE is leaving and you can homeschool his friend’s children as well as your own. You both know he’ll never beat you to the car but he will try.

At the end of this glorious day, you will inform your children that they must go to bed early because you will be waking them at 4 a.m. for Kids’ Day. They will be thrilled. Your daughter will stay up until midnight doing homework because that’s life. Your son will stay up reading…..because he can. You will go to bed and set two alarms because you’re exhausted.

At 4 a.m. you will awaken and find two groggy children. You will put your bra on backwards and head out the door. You will head to the pick-up destination where you will all find your instructions, your aprons, and your newspapers. As you pull up, you will notice the parking lot curiously empty. You will then realize, this isn’t Kids’ Day. You are a week EARLY for KIDS’ DAY. You will realize instead, this is Idiots’ Day. And you heartily congratulate yourself. You won.

You feed the less-than-happy children, send them back to bed, and go to bed yourself. But you will not sleep. Your husband’s alarm will begin to go off at 5:30 and he will hit the snooze eight times.

You spend your time in productive murder plots but decide to blog instead before leaving for choir, shopping, homeschooling, and making dinner for a friend. You will realize in a last, desperate, choking realization, you forgot to get the phone number of the departing wife.

The End

©Copyright 2010

Photo Courtesy of: The Collegiate CSUF

Observational Twitter 23

Famous Quote:

“If wishes were horses all beggars would ride.” ~ Old English Proverb

Obscure Quote:

“If wishes were horses all those beggars should get a clue. I know I would. I’d wish so much I'd be exhausted, create the biggest horse flesh business in the world, trade publicly, and pay people to ride for me. Let's have some vision here.” ~ Robynn

I'm Not Dead....Pretty Much

And I haven't been doing anything resembling much of this, either. You thought I was going to tell you I've whipped my house into shape didn't you? I mean, I try. I really do. But it's like bailing out the ocean with a thimble.

So what did I do on my summer vacation this winter?

Did I take care of my innards? I think the answer to this would be, "Yes," if by "take care of" I mean I saw to it that they stayed mostly inside my abdominal cavity. I feel I have been successful at that. I have not found my liver, spleen, or alternator just laying around anywhere. I haven't gone to McDonald's or Taco Bell. But if you mean I ate extremely well and juiced everyday then the answer gets hazier. Like Erica Kane's face (All My Children) as they film her through the years.

Ever notice that? I don't watch this soap opera anymore. I quit about ten years ago when I started choking on their political agenda. But I had watched it from the beginning. And whenever I happen to come across it in these past ten years I always notice that Erica is heavily filtered through a hazy lens. I can barely make out her features to be sure it's her. I know they're trying to keep the illusion of youth alive but it makes me feel incredibly old because my sight seems to be going each time she appears on screen.

I'll try to stick to the subject: Not being dead.

This morning as I laid, lied, lay, lie, lain, (the correct tense never sounds right to me and is my participle past, present, or dangling? Has it been dangling all day and no one told me?).....let's just go with "assumed a supine position in bed," and tried to add up everything that's been ailing me and keeping me from more than four or five hours of sleep every night. But by the time I approached the end of the list, I forgot my reason for counting. When I remembered why, I couldn't recall the point of the exercise. And you can be grateful for that little fact, my overtaxed readers.

I do know I can't sit for an extended period of time because I injured my tailbone and sitting is certainly a vital part of blogging. I remember this salient fact each time I park it. Which is frequently. Almost all of our homeschooling is on the computer.

Also, life hasn't felt very funny since my stepfather's death. We weren't especially close but my mom needs me a lot now and that's its own fresh challenge and excitement in the way climbing Mt. Everest in my bikini - with my current body and photographers all around - would be a fresh challenge filled with excitement. My only cheerful thought would be a timely plummet from a slippery precipice. However, by God's grace I am coping and seem to be some help, so I continue to tie off and use my safety gear, against my better judgment.

The other issue that is ever before me is the simple fact that writing attracts readers. And when readers come, readers who usually have blogs themselves, I like to visit back. And I can't right now. So that makes me feel greedy and makes me hesitate to write.

My solution is to absolve all of you from any obligatory visits and know that I will write and post here simply to remember what in the world I did with my life, when I look back someday. Feel free to stop in if you want to or skip me entirely. I will pop in to your places from time-to-time because I SERIOUSLY ENJOY reading about your lives. But I can't figure out how to have time for everything.

I am considering pulling down the 30 Day blog and simply accepting that combining the info here will be more in keeping with how I live my life - everything overlapping and mushed together. I don't think I can maintain two blogs and do them any justice.

And I have to finish ripping the wallpaper off my bathroom wall and repainting. Grizzly calls the current motif, "Late World War II." That's generous.

All I can offer, I suppose, is a stark comparison for you. Lay your inconsistencies against mine, consider the shadow your figure casts, gaze about your gracious abodes, and come away feeling incredibly successful, sane, and lovely.

To warp a borrowed epigram, I cannot be a good example but I happily offer myself as a terrible warning.

Hello again and thank you for all your kind wishes and inquiries. Really. You ARE the best. WHAT are you DOING here?

© Copyright 2010

Lilly Livered

So I spoke too soon about all my colonoscopic success.

Apparently, you have this gross looking thing living in your abdomen known as a liver. (I find it mildly disturbing that I possess parts which may appear on a menu.) My liver is extremely petulant and indulged and decided to throw a temper fit shortly after being bombarded with Movi-Prep. It has had its problems over the years and contributed to interruptions in vacation schedules and general good health. It does not take medicine and sticks out its little liver lips and pouts. Now it has the dubious distinction of also being clinically fatty and enlarged.

And why not? It belongs to a person who is fatty and enlarged. Shouldn’t we be a matched set? This is apparently undesirable. I think the clinical term the doctor used was “not good.” But it may be reversible with concerted effort. (I always got D’s in concerted effort). If it does get fixed I hope the rest of my body follows. It would be a shame to have a beautiful and svelte liver that didn’t match the whole ensemble.

All of this led to a dramatic visit to the hospital via ambulance. (The ambulance driver invited the lovely 18-yr-old Bo to ride along. No one invited me when my stepdad fell. It must have been my chubby liver.) It would seem something was jostled during my colonoscopy or else all the Movi-Prep moved and prepped things not designed to be moved and prepped. Whatever happened, something went seriously amiss and dire pain ensued along with other effects that do not deserve honorable mention. And since my abdominal menu item is in a less-than-healthy state, it has had some trouble recovering.

I am happy to say it is at least up and receiving visitors, though it draws the line at alcoholics. They are too toxic. Not to mention obnoxious.

Juicing and even more healthy eating are before me. This morning I juiced carrots, beets, cabbage, dandelion, fennel, broccoli, apples, and oranges. It takes FOREVER to wash, juice, and clean up. I was going to blog but I had to juice. That’ll be my excuse now for everything. “Oh sorry……I can’t

• Run for governor
• Clean
• Do laundry
• Drive the speed limit
• Keep appointments

I have to juice.”

Think of the things I’ll get out of. I may have the liver for this after all.

Copyright © 2010

I Can See for Miles And Miles

(And you thought YOU had a bad job. How would you like to have been a fleet enema character at the Indiana State Fair last year? And I don't know what his date here is supposed to be and I have no desire to know. This is a field trip we won't be going on soon.)

As far as my actual results I got the "all clear" on the colonoscopy which, really, how could it be anything else after the 55 gallon drum of Movi-Prep? I'm pretty sure if you look down my throat you can see my shoes.

Now, for those of you of a certain age, and we know who we are, it's your turn. You can see how much fun Dave Barry and I had. Why not you? And it buys you at least one cheap blog post. It is not unmentionable. We all have a colon. They don't have to be whispered about. I mean, I'm not having a party for mine (or dressing up in costumes) but I am wearing a party hat about it's high functioning status. Nice to get an "A" on something.

And sorry, Scurra, no pictures of my intestinal maze. And for all the rest of you? You're welcome.

© Copyright 2010

The Bottom Line

Greetings friends and hello from the deadbeat vacationing author of this blog. It truly has been a near Tibetan monk retreat time. You may or may not have noticed my absence on your blogs and even my complete avoidance of email connection. In true Tibetan style I have chosen to eschew the modern trappings of electronic communication and have, instead, immersed myself in unbridled electronic entertainment - oh, and books.

I have become addicted to Monarch of The Glen, a lovely BBC series the whole family is now unreasonably invested in, reveled in Cranford with Judith Dench, buried my nose in Two Years Before The Mast which I’m nearly reading at traffic lights due to utter fascination (and the idea of a nearly empty California which baffles the mind of this California citizen – one among 37 million), and have consumed yet more books on healthy eating, organic food growing, and politics, while falling even more in love with author Michael Pollan and Polyface Farms owner, Joel Salatin.

It has been a lovely retreat and, frankly, I think I look great in the vibrant colors and jaunty hat. (Unfortunately, I was JUST out of the frame on the right there.)

Now I come to you on the eve of an event I knew you wouldn’t want to miss: my colonoscopy.

Yes, that’s right saddle pals. It’s time to once again purposely inflict upon my person nausea and epic evacuations, all in the name of health. Oxymoronic though it may seem, I will chug volumes of nasty tasting salt cocktails whilst rendering myself permanently adhered to the porcelain throne. If you’ve never read Dave Barry’s account of this marvelous adventure, I encourage you to click http://www.miamiherald.com/dave_barry/story/427603.html.

But don’t eat or drink while reading or you could cause severe damage to yourself or your computer. Especially if you’re prepping for a colonoscopy. The damage could even include others.

You may remember Katie Couric, in near Jules Verne style, grinning at us in her drug-induced stupor atop a hospital gurney while inviting us to go journeying into her “center of the earth,” as it were. We were treated to pictures of her cavernous insides so that we, too, might see how simple this procedure is to endure. No offense, Katie, and I know your heart was in the right place (I think I saw it), but big deal. It’s not that phase that’s really the problem. Please feel free to bring cameras along and don your headgear for the spelunking part of my adventure tomorrow. I’ll be like you, blissfully drunken, or if I’m really lucky, knocked out. But where were the cameras and where were you (like we don’t know) during the PREP part of this mission? Not nearly as filmable. We all know how that part works:

I knew you wouldn’t want to miss this deeply important aspect of my life so, out of the goodness of my heart and typical thoughtfulness, I return to include you.

I don’t know. Maybe this was a crappy idea.

© Copyright 2010

Photos Courtesy of: Flikr/Wallpapers Desktodesk