Tuesday, April 27, 2010

fatstuff and green babies

All I can manage to do these days is wrap myself in Mr. P, my fat dog, and my new plant babies (which I even took pictures of to liven up this post, but I don't have the patience to wait for them to load).

Things are overwhelming to say the least, and while I am good at regaling you with trivial tales of people calling me the wrong name, venting about my mother, or teasing Mr. P, when it comes to the big, real, meaty stuff, I get too many thoughts swirling around that when I sit down to write and my brain gets all scrambled and sad so I switch to Facebook where I can post ridiculous one-liners about how I laughed at Mr. P for recording "America: The Story of Us" and he told me if I would watch things like that I could live up to my trivia playing potential, or how I planted some peppers in Topsy Turvy planter (hence the green babies), or how we spent Friday afternoon at the lake. Nice. Simple. Surface.

I need to write about Relay for Life and what walking. and walking. and then walking some more meant to me. I need to vent how my team let me down. I need to tell how Mr. P took perfect care of me and everyone else in our 'camp' that night. I need to talk about how thrilled I was that I had so many donations from friends around the country. AND, I need to give someone some downright awesome and funky pants. Today was step one, putting some words behind my voice. Tomorrow may there be substance. And free pants.

Well, maybe not tomorrow, it is my TWENTY FIRST anniversary, but definitely Thursday for sure.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

crap begets crap

I am so completely in a lazy, McLazy, LAZY status right now I can barely stand myself. I have not run since last Tuesday under the guise that my plantar fasciitis has flared up again and I don't want to be too injured to walk during Relay this Friday. (I call bullshit on myself here, by the way.)

We had friends visiting last Wednesday, Thursday and Friday and all three meant I drank and ate too much, which resulted in my complete vegetative status on Saturday that consisted of House and Criminal Minds, playing Zoo World incessantly all while eating Chinese food and pizza. I have done the work I have to do to stay above water, but then I am spending the rest of my time watching television or just looking out the window. I have polished off the Easter candy, and perhaps the most telling sign...since my journey began the beginning of 2009 I didn't weigh in this morning. What the hell ?

But this afternoon, I was thinking about why I am freaking out and completely reverting, and I think I know what has triggered this latest sabotage that kind of started about 6 months ago. I am not quite ready to talk about it, not until I get my head straight about it anyhow. Bear with. However, since I think I know what my problem is, even though I don't really know how to deal with it quite yet, I have told myself, assured myself, promised, begged, cajoled and pleaded with myself to at the very least get my run on tomorrow. I guess we shall see.

ETA: After some effort dragging myself out of bed this morning, and reading the comments that were very supportive and maybe a bit naggy, I did get out there and managed to pound out 4.28 miles. If I didn't have a meeting in 45 minutes I think I would have just kept going and going while I debate myself about what is going in in my brains. Now to see if I can get the food to follow suit.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

mother lover

I couldn't think of a title for this post except for mother fucker, and maybe that is even less appropriate than even I deem to be today. But now this title has me thinking about the SNL song and I am laughing about it because I know how much it makes my sister laugh, and now all my angst and annoyance aren't nearly as angsty or annoying so this post may be kind of boring.

So, last October my mom moved here under the guise of us working on our relationships, etc. Well, in many ways that really hasn't worked out that well because I am still really angry at her, and I think she just doesn't really want to have relationships with us because let's face it, relationships should be two-sided and I don't know that she has thought of another human in say....15 years. Plus, dudes. She is really, really weird. She wears a floor length fur coat made out of recycled tires when it is any temperature below 70. She smokes 80 cheap ass cigarettes a day and hacks like a merchant marine who has been snorting fiberglass for 30 years. She eats generic bologna as her only food group that isn't candy or Pop tarts and carries around bits of food in her pockets. Not in a baggie in her pocket, just plain old cookie right there in the pocket. (which is handy when you are 3 and want to feed the fish at the pond, so Eli doesn't completely mind.) When we have family events she can't stay where we all are and participate because that might cut in on her smoking time, so she hovers around and when she hears something that may intrigue her she yells, WHATTTTTTTTTTTTTT and right now my anger is back and I want to punch her right in her smoke hole.

Anyhow, in January she announces to us that she is moving back to the place where she used to live, to work at the job that she used to despise and live with her cat in a motel for 4 months. She is completely flabbergasted that we didn't find this a spectacular idea. Whatever. She goes.

She has called me twice in the entire time she has been gone...and that is when she needed Mr. P to go pick up her meds (thank the baby Jesus for pharmaceuticals or she would be even weirder) and then calls me every day checking in on how my doing her a favor is going until I have completed it to her satisfaction. The second time she started this cycle I told her I was annoyed that she only called me to ask for favors and she said, "Yeah, I knew you would be mad about that" and then proceeded to tell me how her cat is sad there is traffic in the parking lot of the motel. I just found out she might be coming back a week early and she said, "Don't change your plans," to which I said, "Yeah, I am not" and she got offended. But in fairness (to her), our conversations aren't that great, so maybe these snippets are why she doesn't call more often:

Mom: When I get back I am going to need a boat trip. (alluding to us taking her out on our boat.)
Me: Should be soon.
Mom: You know, since you are going to be saving all that money on the new house, you should use that to buy a bigger boat.
Me: NO, because mostly on the boat, it is going to be me and Mr. P. Alone. No one else.


Me: Yeah, we are going to put the boat at the marina because the driveway is pretty steep and Mr. P isn't sure our transom will tilt enough. (I am really not sure if those are the right words, but she wouldn't know either...)
Mom: So, you are going to have to park your car in the street?
Me: No, why would you think that?
Mom: Because if it is steep you will have to be in first gear. (my car is a stick shift)
Me: Yeah, but considering that I know how to drive my car, it won't be a problem.


So anyways, mom is coming home soon. Maybe even this weekend.


P.S. To try to help counteract all this pissiness I just sprayed out on the interwebs, I am participating in Relay for Life, and I will even let you try to win some pants if you will donate $10. Full story here.

Monday, April 5, 2010

the story of how I DO NOT have cancer

One of the reasons I took my blogging hiatus is that I knew that Mr. P and I had a battery of medical tests to undergo due to our ever increasing age, and with my colleague dying of cancer and my friend's diagnosis being very poor, I was not in a good headspace to relay what was going on with us. Today I will tell one of those stories now that my brain is functioning a bit more clearly and because the time for my shameless begging for money has finally arrived....

On Mr. P's birthday I went in for my first mammogram. It was relatively uneventful, and the tech told me NOT to freak out if they called me in for more tests because they need a solid baseline and the radiologists really want to get to know my breasts.

I leave, feeling pretty okay about it, and proceed to make a lasagna and Boston cream pie (FROM SCRATCH) for Mr. P's birthday dinner.

That was all on a Tuesday. On Thursday I get a call that the mammogram was abnormal for my right breast and I needed to come in for some spot compression tests. I slowly begin the freak out. I google. I read extensively, and for the MOST part all indicators point towards 'need more baseline info', so while I am nervous, I am not FUHreaking, just regular vanilla freaking.

The next Tuesday I go admit myself into the hospital with bracelet and all to get my spot tests, which were about 30 more pictures of the right breast. The whole time the tech is chit chat chatting about the 5K we BOTH did the Saturday before. SURELY if she sees a ginormous lump she wouldn't be just chitty chatty about her super annoying kid, right? After she is done, she takes the pictures to the doctor, and then comes back and says, "Well, come with me, he would like you to have an ultrasound." gulp.

So they get me situated and my boob all lubed up and the tech says to me, "Let's see if we can find this thing."

fuck. there is something to find. fuck me. I am really glad we bought the car so that I have reliable transportation back and forth to the medical school a few hours away. I am glad my sister lives here so that she can help Mr. P take care of me while I die. I am SO glad that I have been running so that my strength is somewhat built up to withstand all the treatments. fuck. fuck.

The tech focuses on something that I am going cross-eyed trying to see and then she gets up and leaves the room to show the doctor and says he will come and talk to me. What feels like an eternity, while I am cataloguing everything in my mind that I need to tell Mr. P about how I feel about him and our life together, and where our money is, and how he will have to be for our kids, the doctor comes in to tell me...

NO cancer. NO nothing actually. There was a lymph node he wanted a closer look at, but it was perfectly normal. Clean bill of health, see you next year.

I never had cancer, but in my mind I did for 10 minutes and it was excruciating. I thought I could imagine what my colleague's family had been through, and I realize that I felt the extreme tippy tippy top of the iceberg. So, because one day I may actually get the news I was petrifying of receiving, or because one of you might, or because ANYone might, I am participating in Relay for Life on our campus, not this weekend, but next. We have a team and will be walking and walking to raise money. So, what I am now asking of all of you, is help me? HELP me, HELP you. (shameless stealing from that movie with Cuba Gooding and he plays sports and has an agent, with Tom Cruise?)

So here is the link to my Relay "page":

Note the picture of the kid on my page is NOT me or anyone I even know, I just can not figure out how to change it. Back to begging: I know everyone is feeling the pinch, BUT, if you want to donate and can afford a $10 donation, let me know via email or comment and I will enter you into a drawing to win an awesome item from


If you win the drawing, I will buy you something from this site (in the $40 ish range). I picked this as a prize because I am working very hard with running and working out to get healthier to lower my chances of getting cancer, or increasing my odds of beating cancer, and I want all of you to have some super snazzy pants/shorts/capris to get healthy in too!

Thursday, April 1, 2010

so it wasn't a rock afterall.

The weather here this week has been absolutely divine. So great that all I want to do is breath the outside air...and actually right now I have all the doors open (don't tell Mr. P because I guess bugs like to come inside, and he would prefer I just open windows) and am 'working' from the patio.

On Tuesday I just putzed around the house and went running and when I finally couldn't put it off anymore, went in to work to finalize my exam. I took my gym stuff because my circuits class is on Tuesday afternoon. I ended up not allowing myself enough time, so I ended up having to scramble and throw my gym clothes on and run to get to the class on time. I felt a little stone in my shoe and thought that once I got to an ab exercise I would take my shoe off and get it out.

It shifted, so ended up not bothering me so I didn't look for it until after the class. It wasn't a rock afterall.

It was a broken nail. No, not a metal nail like for hanging up pictures, or hammering wood. I looked at my toes, all intact. Looked at my fingers, in tact. I don't know where it came from or whose it was, but ACK. GROSS.

But, that isn't the worst thing I ever found in my shoe. Once, I had a 'rock' in my shoe and when I got to work and checked, and it was actually a

roach. A COCK.ROACH.

The only good thing? It was dead.

(That happened about 15 years ago when I was working graveyard shift at a diner and living at my dad's house in between Mr. P getting out of the Air Force and us starting at school. ahh the good old days.)
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