Arnold For The Win

I had an appointment today with Lovely ENT doctor because the Lovely Audiologist noticed my ears were irritated a little more than normal at the Hearing Aid Tune-Up last week and suggested I see the doc to figure out how to stop the itching. She didn’t think my suggestion to stop wearing the hearing aids was helpful at all.

So I saw the Doc (yes, the same doc that gave me the lecture about trashing my hearing by listening to loud rock music when I was a teenager) and he looked at my ears. “Yup that doesn’t look good” is not something you want to hear your ENT doc say when looking in your ears.  You also don’t want to hear that there “appears to be a cyst of some sort” and “I want to take a closer look at this” as he takes you across the hall to a different examination room.

Y’all know that I’m a horrible hypochondriac and can picture The Absolute Worst Case Scenario in any given situation.  Yes, I’m imagining I have ear cancer (it’s a thing!), or it’s going to be something that makes me totally deaf in that ear (the cyst is in my bad ear) all while I’m trying to lie still and let Lovely Doc look in my ear with some contraption and poke around with some type of instrument.

He’s explaining what he sees, and what he thinks the problem is, and blah blah blah while I’m trying to listen and not totally freak out over whatever horrible things my imagination is conjuring up . . . when he says to me in a totally calm and off-hand manner “it’s not a tumor” and then I’m suddenly faced with trying not to laugh while he’s poking around in my ear.

Have I ever explained that I have tons of useless movie trivia stuck in my head that I don’t know what to do with?  And that these totally useless bits of movie trivia tend to pop up out at the most inopportune moments of my life . . . yea . . . it’s a thing . . . and it happened today . . . during the ear exam . . .

Have y’all ever seen the movie “Kindergarten Cop”?  Remember Arnold’s response when the kids tell him that his headache could be a tumor?  Yea, that’s what played in my head when Lovely Doc assured me it wasn’t a tumor . . .

It was all I could do to get through the last bit of the appointment without laughing like a crazy woman . . . and I’ve been laughing about it all day . . .

Thanks, Arnold!

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Stronger

It’s been 5 years, 5 months, and 14 days since Prince Charming left this Earth.

I’ve tried to be brave, be strong, to carry on . . . even when I didn’t know WTF I was doing, even when I didn’t WANT to carry on.

I buried him.  And I had no idea what kind of service he wanted.

I settled his estate.  I handled a wrongful death claim.  I dealt with the Bureau of Worker Compensation, a whole bunch of insurance agencies, and some other silly government stuff that I don’t really remember.

I bought a new car.  I bought a new washer.  I planned for a major remodeling project for The Little House.  I had a new driveway installed.  I dealt with the daily stuff of living in a 90-something year old house.

I did yard work . . . winter and summer . . . even though I hate it.

Everyone told me it would get “easier”.  That I would eventually “feel better”.  Life wasn’t always going to “suck”.  I called bullshit on all of that . . . it’s still hard,  it still hurts, it still sucks.

Mostly I went through the motions of doing “stuff” so people wouldn’t worry about the “poor thing” wallowing in her widowhood . . .

Today I think I’ve turned a corner.  I still don’t know WTF I’m doing but I am starting to feel like whatever comes around I can handle it . . . because, surprisingly enough, I have been handling it all along.

And it started with a weed eater.  A string trimmer.  And spending some time edging the sidewalk in front of the house.

Sounds simple enough . . . but it’s really a massive accomplishment.  I’m a yard snob.  I like the yard to look “just so” but since Prince Charming has been gone I didn’t have the energy or desire to do the work necessary to have the yard look “just so” . . . so I didn’t do it.  Yes, the yard is cut and I did cut down the weeds but it was a half hearted effort.  The weed eater I had belonged to Prince Charming.  It was built for him . . . and he was a foot taller than me and weighed about a hundred pounds more than me.  It was big.  It was heavy.  It was hard for me to maneuver.  It was battery operated . . . and the batteries were wearing out.  That started a whole research project.  Buy batteries for the trimmer I have or buy a new trimmer?  Battery or corded?  Which brand?  How many amps?  What size cut?  It was enough to make a girls head spin.

I made a decision . . . it’s my yard and I need to be able to take care of it myself.  Buy what you want.  Buy what will work best for you.  So I bought a little 4.4 amp, 13 inch cut corded trimmer.  It’s the perfect size for me.  It works like a charm.  It was a birthday present to myself.  And I have been as excited as a little kid to get a new string trimmer as a birthday present.

So today I decided I wanted to use the trimmer and at least edge the front sidewalk and the driveway before I went to a family party.  Oh.  My.  Goodness.  I had NO IDEA that edging the sidewalk could be so therapeutic.  I didn’t have to worry about the battery running out.  I did have to be careful about where the cord was so I didn’t cut it.  But for 30 minutes it was me and the trimmer cleaning up the messy front sidewalk.  It was heaven.  It’s not pretty.  It’s not perfect.  I need to clean up a few spots.  But it’s done.  It’s not half bad for a first attempt.  And I did it.  By my self.  Me.  The girl who still wants to stay in bed under the covers some days . . .

I still get mad at the universe that Prince Charming wasn’t here long enough.  But then I have days like today when I realize he was here long enough to help me realize that even though it sucks that he’s gone . . . I can do this stuff on my own . . . even when I don’t want to do it alone . . . even if I stomp my feet and curse every single step of the way.  And now I have the desire and energy to actually do the stuff I hate . . . and even look forward to it a bit . . .

Does this mean I’m getting a little stronger?  Does this mean it might not always suck this bad?  I’m always gonna miss him . . . but maybe it will actually get a little easier?

 

 

 

 

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Goofy Dog

You know it’s gonna be bad when Millie is running to the door to tell on Rocky . . . when all the dogs in the neighborhood are barking their fool heads off and the dog that always has to be in the middle of everything is running to get ME . . .

As I put on Prince Charming’s yard shoes and walked out the back door to see what the commotion was all about I said to myself “Self, this is not gonna be good . . . ”

Yep, well shit . . . this is not good . . . as I came around the corner of the garage and walked toward the back gate I saw Rocky in a stand off with a stupid ground hog . . . make that a very pissed off ground hog.  Well after I said a whole string of bad words (and throwing a shoe at the ground hog) I managed to get Rocky and Millie back toward the house.

I gave Rocky a quick once over and discovered a small puncture wound on his left ear lobe.  Looks like Mama Groundhog got only one good bite in.  That’s good.  Except I can’t get the bleeding to stop.  Well more bad words, and total panic that it might be too late to get Rocky to Lovely Vet’s office and I’ll have to make a trek to Expensive Emergency Clinic.

Quick phone call once I realize it’s not past closing time and off we go to Lovely Vet’s office.  Where we are the last patient of the day . . .

Lovely Vet assured me that it wasn’t serious.  Antibiotic shot, antibiotic pills, pain meds for a week and Rocky should be fine.  Lovely Vet Tech does her best to get the bleeding to stop . . . they use surgical adhesive (super glue!) . . . they even wrapped his ear up in a bandage to keep him from shaking his head . . . he looked like a Russian Grandma.  But nothing helped . . . so I have to keep an eye on him whenever he flips his ear.

He’s going to be fine.  I’m going to be fine . . . eventually.  He scared the crap out of me.  I look like I’ve committed a murder.  The poor vet’s office looked like it was a crime scene.  Who knew an ear would bleed so much!!

Who knew my docile guy would have such a mean streak when it comes to little furry things coming into his yard!

Right now he’s sleeping peacefully at my feet . . . bless his heart . . . and Millie hasn’t left his side since we got back from the vet . . .

It’s been an interesting day.

 

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Y’All Need Jesus . . .

My little corner of Ohio took a beating last night with some severe weather and tornadoes.  The local weather geeks broke into regular programing sometime between 8:30 and 9:00 pm local time and were still on the air when I went to bed about 1:30 am.  I was too afraid to turn off the TV and go to bed until I knew, for a reasonable fact, that the storms were gone and it was safe. 

I am fortunate that none of the bad stuff happened here where I live, but other areas weren’t so lucky.  The tornadoes hit some densely populated areas.  One of the areas was where Niece #2 just moved into her first home with the Lovely Guy she’s marrying in a little more than a month.  It’s her first time living away from home . . . and last night was her first “oh shit I’m adult what do I do now?” moment facing the storms . . . she was scared shitless and hiding in her basement.  I was helping her not be so scared and giving her what info I could from the local CBS affiliate.   

Princess Charming was hunkered in her bathroom with her little boys and I was sharing information with her because she has crappy cell service and no TV service at her little house

I was watching the local CBS channel . . . they did a great job sharing information in a calm manner.  Sure Weather Girl got emotional and had to walk away for a minute, but her co-worker took over and gave the necessary information so that Weather Girl could compose herself and do her job. 

But on one of the other local channels . . . this was happening . . .

 

 

Yes, this happened in my little part of the world.  The local ABC Channel Weather Guy decides to chastise his viewers for complaining about their show being interrupted. Sure, they were on air for most of the evening but it was some scary stuff with these storms.  I wasn’t watching this guy but I heard about it almost as soon as it happened and have been hearing about it all day.  It even made the national news.  WTF? With all the destruction that happened last night THIS is making national news? 

Almost everyone is heralding him as a “hero” and he “saved lives” and he’s being hounded by the national news networks to get “his” side of the story . . . Dude has a temper tantrum ON THE AIR, says he’s “done with you people” and tells people to “stop it!” and we are celebrating that behavior!  He did kinda sorta apologize but it was halfhearted and made it seem like the viewers are the problem and it was our fault he acted badly. 

I feel like I’m the only one who sees a problem with his behavior.  No civility, no professionalism.  Just fuss and bluster and, yes, ego are being championed and encouraged.  My heart aches for my little corner of the world . . . and not just because of the destruction that happened last night . . . but because human kindness and compassion seem to be in short supply . . . when it is needed so urgently.

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Dear Prince Charming

You know “it’s not a holiday if you don’t have a project” and this year my project was to “do something” with the front flower bed.  I’ve had the same project every Memorial Day since you left.  I would weed the flower bed, put down new mulch, but I never planted anything because I couldn’t make up my mind about what I wanted.  So I didn’t plant anything and half-heartedly tended to the weeds that took over.  Every fall I would say “next year I’m going to do something with that flower bed.”  Every spring I would look at the seed catalogs, scout out new plants at the garden centers . . . and since I couldn’t make up my mind . . . I did nothing.  This year I decided that “doing something” would be tearing it out. 

I want to apologize for un-doing the beautiful work you did to create the front flower bed.  Trust me, this was not an easy decision for me.  I’ve agonized over it for weeks.  I stood in front of the flower bed and cried because I remembered how much precision you put into putting down the weed barrier cloth, how exacting you were in placing the border stones, and the many conversations we had and trips we took to find the right plants. 

I’m not a gardener.  I’m a certified plant killer.  I can kill a philodendron (and have many times).   I don’t like yard work.  It was fun when you were here to share the work load but now it’s a chore . . . one that I dread every week . . . the phrase “I really hate your ass right now” is uttered at least once during every yard work session.  I could do it if I wanted to . . . but I don’t want to . . . so I’m not going to torture myself over it anymore.  

So the border stones were carefully removed, cleaned, and stored in the shed . . . in case I change my mind next year and decide to put them back . . . the weed barrier cloth was taken up . . . and I’m headed to our favorite handyman store tomorrow to get a bag of top soil and grass seed to put where your lovely little flower bed used to be . . .

Your little concrete foxes are safely in place in the back yard . . . because I’m afraid they will be stolen if I leave them out front without the protection of the weeds they’ve been hiding behind for the last five years (gasp . . . it’s been five years . . . dang).  Now I can see them every time I look out the back door. 

Even though I’m sad that another part of “our” life is gone . . . I’m at peace with the decision.  Or at least I will be once the new grass has taken hold and it doesn’t look like a construction site in the front yard. 

I hope you understand . . . 

Love you forever and forever, Pammie

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Me . . . eee . . . eee

I’m not a huge Taylor Swift fan but I do enjoy her music. I was not thrilled to hear the new song every hour on the hour the other day for it’s debut . . . until I realized that Brendon Urie was singing with her (that dude could sing the phone book and I’d listen to him!) so I paid closer attention to the song.

That’s when I heard the line “I never want to see you walk away” . . . which reminded me of the promise that Prince Charming made me when he came back into my life “I will never willingly walk away from you ever again” . . . .

So that’s the story of how the new Taylor Swift song turned me into a puddle of snot this morning . . .

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#singlegirlproblems part two

Finished the research to pick a mower . . .

Picked the brains of Little Brother and Older Brother In Law . . .

Thought, re-thought, agonized over the decision . . .

Finally made a decision and ordered the mower . . .

Arranged for in-store pick-up . . . prayed that the mower would fit in Hal . . . worried about how the heck I would get the mower OUT of Hal once I got it home . . .

Mower fit in Hal . . . wasn’t too hard to get it out of Hal once I got home . . .

Now I have to put it together . . .

But first I have to make sure I “read, understand, and follow all instructions” in the manuals provided . . .

Stay tuned . . .

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