Today I received a call from CeCe, giving me some 'are you sitting down' news.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Friday, August 7, 2009
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Moving right along
I woke up this morning knowing that today was the right day to move on with my life, minus Eddie. Things have been getting more and more just like they were when we 'went out' last year. I use the quotation marks because we've never actually gone on a date. Our whole relationship has been about him coming over to my house, me entertaining him and cooking for him, and then him leaving. We don't even talk on the phone much anymore because he watches tv and doesn't listen to me so I've stopped saying anything. And he was not being at all understanding about my limitations and pain. I printed a summary of what I go through about a month ago. Although I've asked him at least 10 times about it, he has never even bothered to read the pages. Oh, and I just found out that, exactly like last year, nobody knows about me...none of his friends even know he's been seeing anyone for the last 5 (?) months
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
GETTING OLD
Today I am taking a break from the 'Giant Bathing Suit' diaries to share my thoughts on one of the many unpleasant ass-pects of getting old. Will return to the previous topic in a few days.
Due to both family history and personal issues, I had my 4th colonoscopy today. While the actual test brings with it many opportunities to laugh (if it's someone else's test), the preparation for the test is so awful I can't believe a MAN hasn't invented a less miserable way to get ready, given that the test is one the male gender also must have, beginning around age 55. I told my doctor today that he would be rich if only he would invent a pleasant-tasting 'beverage' that one could drink about 2 ounces of, as opposed to the 4 liters of oh-my-God-I-want-to-die liquid also known as Trilyte (or Golytely, Colyte or Nulytely). That is some nasty stuff.
I've been dreading the prep for the test so much, I've rescheduled twice, meaning I've not been able to take my baby aspirin OR my anti-inflammatory meds in 3 weeks. These 3 weeks have been pure hell, but I just did not want to spend a day drinking something that made me want to vomit, but would actually make me do something else. Drink crap. Expel crap. Times about 75.
Since I could not put the test off any longer (and, yes, I did consider cancelling even though it would have cost me $75...I REALLY did not want to do this prep), yesterday I mixed up the '$hit potion' and added the flavor packet of my choice (orange). By the way, the flavor packet's only function is to make the concoction SMELL like orange, pineapple, mixed berry, or lemon. There is no change to the taste of the product. I'm gagging, just writing about it. I guess it's still too fresh in my mind.
So yesterday was awful, and the horror lasted until late at night. Finally I slept. I woke up this morning hoping that I drank enough of the nastiness to not be sent home, test not given and me $75 lighter because I didn't do it right. Actually, I only drank less than half of it. I just could not drink any more. So I was hoping.
My friend, Eddie, got here around 8:00 to drive me to the place. I figured today's part would be a walk in the park after yesterday. Although my test was scheduled for 10:30, I was told many times that I had to be there at 9:30. For some reason, though, I was not taken back until 10:40. I'm going to send them a bill for $75 and see what happens. I'll keep you posted.
Once I was called back, I was told to get naked and in a gown and then get on the bed and cover up with the sheet. Then the nurse came in with the anesthesiologist to give me my IV and go over a whole bunch of boring questions. By the time they wheeled me into the procedure room, I had cried 4 times and was talking non-stop. Then nothing. The next thing I knew Eddie was standing at the foot of the bed, with the nurse telling me that I could leave just as soon as I farted a bunch, in order to get out all of the air they blew me up with. Oh how nice. She asked me if I could cut the cheese easier if Eddie wasn't there. I nodded, and he literally RAN out of the room, which is sort of funny, given that farting is almost an Olympic event to just about every man alive, Eddie included.
I don't remember anything else until I was being wheeled to the car. I guess I must have farted sufficiently to be released. I do remember the guy in the next curtained area letting them go so loudly it sounded like he was sitting on an aluminum bleacher. He laughed every time, too. Men have no shame.
Eddie and I stopped off at a drive-thru for a bite to eat, and then he drove me home. Oh, and he casually tossed me a paper, telling me, "By the way, the doctor gave me these pictures of the inside of your butthole. I thought you'd want them."
I'm so proud.
Due to both family history and personal issues, I had my 4th colonoscopy today. While the actual test brings with it many opportunities to laugh (if it's someone else's test), the preparation for the test is so awful I can't believe a MAN hasn't invented a less miserable way to get ready, given that the test is one the male gender also must have, beginning around age 55. I told my doctor today that he would be rich if only he would invent a pleasant-tasting 'beverage' that one could drink about 2 ounces of, as opposed to the 4 liters of oh-my-God-I-want-to-die liquid also known as Trilyte (or Golytely, Colyte or Nulytely). That is some nasty stuff.
I've been dreading the prep for the test so much, I've rescheduled twice, meaning I've not been able to take my baby aspirin OR my anti-inflammatory meds in 3 weeks. These 3 weeks have been pure hell, but I just did not want to spend a day drinking something that made me want to vomit, but would actually make me do something else. Drink crap. Expel crap. Times about 75.
Since I could not put the test off any longer (and, yes, I did consider cancelling even though it would have cost me $75...I REALLY did not want to do this prep), yesterday I mixed up the '$hit potion' and added the flavor packet of my choice (orange). By the way, the flavor packet's only function is to make the concoction SMELL like orange, pineapple, mixed berry, or lemon. There is no change to the taste of the product. I'm gagging, just writing about it. I guess it's still too fresh in my mind.
So yesterday was awful, and the horror lasted until late at night. Finally I slept. I woke up this morning hoping that I drank enough of the nastiness to not be sent home, test not given and me $75 lighter because I didn't do it right. Actually, I only drank less than half of it. I just could not drink any more. So I was hoping.
My friend, Eddie, got here around 8:00 to drive me to the place. I figured today's part would be a walk in the park after yesterday. Although my test was scheduled for 10:30, I was told many times that I had to be there at 9:30. For some reason, though, I was not taken back until 10:40. I'm going to send them a bill for $75 and see what happens. I'll keep you posted.
Once I was called back, I was told to get naked and in a gown and then get on the bed and cover up with the sheet. Then the nurse came in with the anesthesiologist to give me my IV and go over a whole bunch of boring questions. By the time they wheeled me into the procedure room, I had cried 4 times and was talking non-stop. Then nothing. The next thing I knew Eddie was standing at the foot of the bed, with the nurse telling me that I could leave just as soon as I farted a bunch, in order to get out all of the air they blew me up with. Oh how nice. She asked me if I could cut the cheese easier if Eddie wasn't there. I nodded, and he literally RAN out of the room, which is sort of funny, given that farting is almost an Olympic event to just about every man alive, Eddie included.
I don't remember anything else until I was being wheeled to the car. I guess I must have farted sufficiently to be released. I do remember the guy in the next curtained area letting them go so loudly it sounded like he was sitting on an aluminum bleacher. He laughed every time, too. Men have no shame.
Eddie and I stopped off at a drive-thru for a bite to eat, and then he drove me home. Oh, and he casually tossed me a paper, telling me, "By the way, the doctor gave me these pictures of the inside of your butthole. I thought you'd want them."
I'm so proud.
Friday, July 17, 2009
THE GIANT BATHING SUIT Part 3
Today the giant bathing suit made it's third appearance. At first I didn't want to go, but decided that the third time would just HAVE to be a charm. So I suited up and drove to the pool.
After very carefully backing in to the handicapped parking space (and making damn sure I wasn't over the line this time) I got my stuff together and went inside. I checked in and walked to the pool, where I found an empty bench to put my stuff on. I took my shirt off, exposing the GIANT BATHING SUIT. I was very prepared to ignore everyone and just get in and do my thing. There was lots of noise, and much activity on the sides of the pool. I went in toward the middle and started doing my exercises. After about 10 minutes I realized that although there were many people in the area, I was the only one in the pool. I started looking around, and saw that everyone else was sitting on the sides of the pool. I went to a lady who was sitting closest to me and asked what was going on. She told me that the park people were testing the pool water and doing some cleaning, and everyone had been asked to leave the pool for 15 minutes. Oh how nice. No wonder everyone was looking at me. Again.
I got out and sat down on the side with everyone else, and just as my butt hit the concrete the lifeguard blew the whistle and said that everyone could go back in. Of course.
I spent the next 30 minutes burning off thousands of calories, I'm sure. Okay, maybe hundreds. But at least I did it. In the GIANT BATHING SUIT.
Later on I went to Kroger to get some Bing cherries. They are on sale this week and I bought 1 pound the other day but didn't taste one until last night. That's when I found out how yummy they are. So I decided to go back and get two more pounds. When I got home I started eating the pound I bought the other day. Somehow I ate the whole pound. Then I wrote something on FaceBook about having a bunch of Bing cherries, and someone kindly informed me that these cherries cause what Martha used to call 'the screaming meanies'.
Will this explosion hit me during the night, at the pool tomorrow (where it would be impossible to pull that 'girdle dress' of a bathing suit off in time), or at Archiver's tomorrow night. Great. Can't wait. I haven't shit myself in many years. Please, God, let this happen when I am at home, with no visitors, and have the luxury of my own bathroom. Please don't let me have a blowout in public!
HEY...maybe I can just eat some Bing cherries before my colonoscopy next week and that way I won't have to drink that awful stuff they make you drink to 'clean out your system'. Wonder if that would work? I guess I'll know by tomorrow.
Until then...
Thursday, July 16, 2009
THE GIANT BATHING SUIT Days 1 and 2
Day 1
I went to the pool at Bogan Park for the first time. I have not been swimming in many years. My doctor won't get off my tail about exercising, and this is the only thing he wants me to do because of the nature of my illnesses. Of course. The one 'sport' in which you have to wear something that shows your body. Oh, and at Bogan Park Aquatics Center, they do not allow shorts, sports bras, or t-shirts. Oh how nice.
First off, I went in and had to go to my 'happy place' as I walked from the bench where I had put my towel, shirt, and keys. I tried to act nonchalant about the whole thing, but I was just about to die of emarrassment. Did I mention that my giant bathing suit has a skirt on it?
I managed to get in the pool and started doing the exercises I learned at my 'old lady arthritis class' a couple of years ago. I stayed in about 35 minutes and then got out, got to my stuff, and practically RAN out of there and to my car.
I am not happy about having to do this exercise, but evidently I don't have any choice. DAMN!
When I got home I took two showers and still couldn't get the smell of chlorine out of my nose. Not that I'm complaining about the chlorine. I could just imagine all of those kids peeing in the pool, so no amount of chlorine is too much!
This is similar to the GIANT BATHING SUIT, except mine is a bit uglier and a lot bigger.
Day 2
So today I went back to the pool. I was minding my own business when I heard someone say, "Miss Adams?" When I turned around it was the girl who checked me in. She said, "These men need to speak with you." The men being 2 cops. I nearly had a heart attack first off, because I immediately thought something must be wrong with Trey. So I looked at them and they 'asked' me to step out of the pool and come into the breezeway so we could talk. At this point I have already crapped myself three times. (not really)
I got out of the pool, got my towel and flip flops, and walked out with them. Of course EVERYONE at the pool was watching the whole thing, so blending in and not having the GIANT BATHING SUIT noticed became out of the question. After I followed them, one told me that I needed to move my car because I was 'over the line' in the handicapped space. I told him that I have a handicapped tag but he said that my tire was over the line for the ramp to the sidewalk and I needed to move in case a wheelchair needed access to the pool. I told him that I am handicapped and that's the best parking I could do. Ha. Ha. Ha. They didn't laugh. They just got on their BIKES (as in BICYCLES) and watched me re-park my car. Then they told me just to always park between the two lines. Really?
I thought about just leaving but I had left some stuff inside. So I went in to get my items, planning to leave, since EVERYONE was staring at me again. But I figured that I was already in there, so I might as well get back in. I did, and exercised another half hour.
This exercise thing better work, what, with all of the mortification I am experiencing.
Oh, and I saw a female with a t-shirt on UNDER her swimsuit. Nice, huh? Only in Buford.
I went to the pool at Bogan Park for the first time. I have not been swimming in many years. My doctor won't get off my tail about exercising, and this is the only thing he wants me to do because of the nature of my illnesses. Of course. The one 'sport' in which you have to wear something that shows your body. Oh, and at Bogan Park Aquatics Center, they do not allow shorts, sports bras, or t-shirts. Oh how nice.
First off, I went in and had to go to my 'happy place' as I walked from the bench where I had put my towel, shirt, and keys. I tried to act nonchalant about the whole thing, but I was just about to die of emarrassment. Did I mention that my giant bathing suit has a skirt on it?
I managed to get in the pool and started doing the exercises I learned at my 'old lady arthritis class' a couple of years ago. I stayed in about 35 minutes and then got out, got to my stuff, and practically RAN out of there and to my car.
I am not happy about having to do this exercise, but evidently I don't have any choice. DAMN!
When I got home I took two showers and still couldn't get the smell of chlorine out of my nose. Not that I'm complaining about the chlorine. I could just imagine all of those kids peeing in the pool, so no amount of chlorine is too much!
This is similar to the GIANT BATHING SUIT, except mine is a bit uglier and a lot bigger.
Day 2
So today I went back to the pool. I was minding my own business when I heard someone say, "Miss Adams?" When I turned around it was the girl who checked me in. She said, "These men need to speak with you." The men being 2 cops. I nearly had a heart attack first off, because I immediately thought something must be wrong with Trey. So I looked at them and they 'asked' me to step out of the pool and come into the breezeway so we could talk. At this point I have already crapped myself three times. (not really)
I got out of the pool, got my towel and flip flops, and walked out with them. Of course EVERYONE at the pool was watching the whole thing, so blending in and not having the GIANT BATHING SUIT noticed became out of the question. After I followed them, one told me that I needed to move my car because I was 'over the line' in the handicapped space. I told him that I have a handicapped tag but he said that my tire was over the line for the ramp to the sidewalk and I needed to move in case a wheelchair needed access to the pool. I told him that I am handicapped and that's the best parking I could do. Ha. Ha. Ha. They didn't laugh. They just got on their BIKES (as in BICYCLES) and watched me re-park my car. Then they told me just to always park between the two lines. Really?
I thought about just leaving but I had left some stuff inside. So I went in to get my items, planning to leave, since EVERYONE was staring at me again. But I figured that I was already in there, so I might as well get back in. I did, and exercised another half hour.
This exercise thing better work, what, with all of the mortification I am experiencing.
Oh, and I saw a female with a t-shirt on UNDER her swimsuit. Nice, huh? Only in Buford.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Doctor appointments
After canceling three times, tomorrow I will pay a visit to my new GI doctor. I'm so excited. And I just can't hide it. I am two years overdue to have a colonoscopy. Since my grandfather had colon cancer and I had some 'issues' in my 20's, I have to have this test on a regular basis. At that time, my doctor told me that had I waited to be tested until the suggested age of 50, I would have already had cancer. (He just knew, nosey!)
Anyway, I am overdue and know this new guy will make me have the ass-cam again. I think I could probably stand the test, since they put me to sleep, but the preparation is a bitch. Just ask my siblings, as they all had to have colonoscopies after I received my results from that first test. Lucky for them, none had any problems, but they were not happy with me for causing them to have the butt-light so early in their lives.
So I will go tomorrow and will tell the doctor he MUST come up with some other way to 'prepare' for the test besides drinking that disgusting liquid. Just thinking about it just made my stomach turn over. I am NOT drinking ANYTHING. He will just have to come up with some other way. There's got to be some other way to cause a person to have a blow-out. I'm putting my foot down. Let's see if tomorrow at this time I still have a doctor.
Good grief, I just remembered that I haven't re-scheduled my appointment for my mammogram, either. Was supposed to have it in February. There is simply nothing like a good boob-flattening to make your day perfect.
Getting old sure is a bitch. My friend, Martha, used to say that if she'd known she was going to live this long she would have taken better care of herself. She died last year. I'm just sayin'.
Anyway, I am overdue and know this new guy will make me have the ass-cam again. I think I could probably stand the test, since they put me to sleep, but the preparation is a bitch. Just ask my siblings, as they all had to have colonoscopies after I received my results from that first test. Lucky for them, none had any problems, but they were not happy with me for causing them to have the butt-light so early in their lives.
So I will go tomorrow and will tell the doctor he MUST come up with some other way to 'prepare' for the test besides drinking that disgusting liquid. Just thinking about it just made my stomach turn over. I am NOT drinking ANYTHING. He will just have to come up with some other way. There's got to be some other way to cause a person to have a blow-out. I'm putting my foot down. Let's see if tomorrow at this time I still have a doctor.
Good grief, I just remembered that I haven't re-scheduled my appointment for my mammogram, either. Was supposed to have it in February. There is simply nothing like a good boob-flattening to make your day perfect.
Getting old sure is a bitch. My friend, Martha, used to say that if she'd known she was going to live this long she would have taken better care of herself. She died last year. I'm just sayin'.
Friday, June 26, 2009
SCARLET
This is actually part 3 of our trip to Nebraska, but it's all about Scarlet, CeCe's granddaughter. This is her sitting in the dog's bed.
Scarlet is adorable. We saw her on two days of our visit there. She is 19 months old and so very cute!! Teri and I tried so hard to get her to say our names but all she would do was laugh when I asked her to say SHERI. I tried to get her to call Teri SKANK, but she wouldn't say that, either. She finally said a halfway version of my name BEFORE she said Teri's name. I think she did it because she loved the ladybug purse I gave her.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME (Trip Summary Part 2)
Well well well. What do you know. Tonight, as I was finally unpacking my suitcase to do laundry, I found a card inside, saying that they had searched my bag. What the hell?! It must have been the 'comb of death' that made the search necessary, since that's what did it to my carry-on on the way there. It's nothing but a comb with a silver filigree back edge. It goes with a brush and mirror set that was given to me for my birthday one year by my very dear friend, Martha, who died last year. I guess they must have had problems with people killing other passengers with these dangerous combs, and they somehow make the alarms go off. No wonder everything was all mixed up. I'm kind of upset that they saw the books CeCe gave me as a joke, all on the same subject, one that I am not thrilled about. So now Delta thinks I am 'that way'. I'm gonna kill CeCe.
Not feeling well tonight so I'm going to make this short.
The end.
Not feeling well tonight so I'm going to make this short.
The end.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME (Trip Summary Part 1)
Great. I wish I had updated daily like I had planned. Unfortunately, by the time we all went to bed every night, I was too tired to do anything but sleep. So now I'm going to try to summarize the days over a few days this week and, hopefully, I won't forget anything. Yeah, just writing that made me laugh. There were so many pictures taken of me sleeping, I probably don't even know what happened much of the time. I'm gonna try, though.
Teri took pictures of all of the people there, and this couple had a unique story that everyone was laughing about. It seems that Jenn had invited a bunch of friends over a while back and when her husband, James, got home she was out of the room. He didn't realize that, though, and came up behind 'her' and put his finger down the back of her pants, in her butt crack. That's when he found out that Jenn was in the other room. Lucky for him the recipient of his little 'love greeting' thought it was as funny as everyone else did and didn't hurt him!
After everyone left the party, we all decided to play Phase 10, which is a card game, for those of you who haven't heard of it before (like me). The night before, CeCe, Joel, Teri, and I played it and had a good time so we decided to play it again, but this time we let Adam, Rachel, and Carl play, too. During this game, I learned what 'stink holes' are (either mesh or holes with grommets in clothing, usually found under the arms) from Adam and Rachel. Rachel had stink holes in the shirt she was wearing. Nice, huh?
I also learned that Carl had 2 tickets to the gun show. That's all I'll say about that.
And then there was Teri. She does a great impression of her nail technician. So good that I almost peed my pants when she kept doing it. You'll have to ask her to do it. It's one of those 'gotta be there' things. Be sure she asks you if you want a pedicure. He he he he he...
More tomorrow...
Saturday CeCe had an Oscar Mayer House Party. It's from a website that gets people to have friends over to try new products and then report back to the House Party people with opinions and photos. Oscar Mayer provided the hot dogs and condiments, and CeCe's friends brought 'sides'. Joel did an excellent job at the grill AND in the yard later with the kids. Yes, that's Joel on the bottom of the pile.
Teri took pictures of all of the people there, and this couple had a unique story that everyone was laughing about. It seems that Jenn had invited a bunch of friends over a while back and when her husband, James, got home she was out of the room. He didn't realize that, though, and came up behind 'her' and put his finger down the back of her pants, in her butt crack. That's when he found out that Jenn was in the other room. Lucky for him the recipient of his little 'love greeting' thought it was as funny as everyone else did and didn't hurt him! After everyone left the party, we all decided to play Phase 10, which is a card game, for those of you who haven't heard of it before (like me). The night before, CeCe, Joel, Teri, and I played it and had a good time so we decided to play it again, but this time we let Adam, Rachel, and Carl play, too. During this game, I learned what 'stink holes' are (either mesh or holes with grommets in clothing, usually found under the arms) from Adam and Rachel. Rachel had stink holes in the shirt she was wearing. Nice, huh?
I also learned that Carl had 2 tickets to the gun show. That's all I'll say about that. 
And then there was Teri. She does a great impression of her nail technician. So good that I almost peed my pants when she kept doing it. You'll have to ask her to do it. It's one of those 'gotta be there' things. Be sure she asks you if you want a pedicure. He he he he he... More tomorrow...
THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME
Well, the trip is over and I slept in my own bed last night. Although we had a lovely time in Nebraska, it is great to be home.
My little doggie, Lennie, was so happy to see me and I had missed him since I practically had to have a steak in my hand for CeCe's dog to even come near me. Forget about the cats! They don't like anyone!
The plane trip home was similar to the one going there, minus the drugs. Teri and I didn't get to sit together, so I just put some music on and promptly fell asleep. She told me she could see me across the aisle, my head knodding forward a lot. She asked me afterwards if I was awake for any of the ride, and I don't think I was. I fell asleep right after take-off, and woke up when the fllight attendant came on to tell us we were about to arrive in Atlanta. Those two hours just flew by.
Since I didn't write much during the trip...everyone was always telling me to hurry up on the computer so we could play cards or go somewhere...I'll summarize what we did each day.
Thursday - sleep, eat, sleep, talk, sleep, sleep. Some of those activities overlapped each other.
Friday - shopping and spending time with Scarlet and Elizabeth. Played cards and listened to Teri's impressions of the ladies at her nail salon. Nearly peed my pants. Went to bed very 'Rate'.
Saturday - Scarlet visited and CeCe had her Oscar Mayer House Party with 20-something people all crammed into the house. It was fun but very loud! Played cards till late
Sunday - Ate at a really cool Mexican place, drove around for a while, finished our card game from the night before. Adam's girlfriend won (again). Joel worked on my computer and showed us some of his really good photography. Marc, Elizabeth, and their roommate arrived to visit with Joel for Father's Day. No Scarlet today.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Friday, June 19, 2009
Nebraska
Since I didn't feel up to writing about the start of my big Nebraska adventure yesterday I will attempt to recapture the fun in today's entry.
Teri and I began our day at 5am, meeting at the Kroger in Duluth. I had been unable to sleep the night before, so I just decided to stay up, and figured I would get some sleep on the plane. My doctor had already told me the day before which medicine to take once we got to the airport so I would be calm when we took off. I was petrified.
We drove to the Doraville MARTA station (did you know that the trains begin at 4:43AM from Doraville?), dragging along a whole bunch of crap that we probably didn't even need in our suitcases and carry-on bags. We had to walk a good way from the car to the train and by the time we went up the stairs, my rolling suitcase would not roll straight...it kept falling over and I had to jerk it back onto both wheels OVER AND OVER.
Our train ride was uneventful. The end of the line is the airport, so we rode for a while. And then we got to the airport. By this time we both had pretty bad backaches, and were questioning our decisions to bring our laptops in our carry-ons. I know I could have probably left mine at home, but I wanted to be able to record everything about our trip as soon as possible since my memory sucks.
We went to the counters to print our tickets and then got in line to check our bags. At this point my back hurt so bad I knew I could not walk the mile to our gate. We thought that with my handicapped status we could get on one of those cool carts we've seen in past trips to Hartsfield. We found our way to the handicapped sign and gave the nice (hateful) lady my information. Then we found out that all they had were wheelchairs and guys to push these wheelchairs to the front of every line we encountered. This was pretty cool except that Teri still had to walk that very long way with her back hurting like crazy. At least we got in front of the lines.
When we got to security, we went to the front of the line but had to take off our shoes, put our carry-ons, purses, and the contents of our pockets in the grey bins. Then we walked through the metal detector and thought we were clear, but were totally grossed out at having to be barefoot on the nasty floor at the airport. When my stuff finally came out of the scanner, I got my shoes on and got my purse. Then the security officer told me she was searching my bag. When she opened it, I saw one of my fans. I was hot so I reached for it and was given a stern warning to 'step away from the bag'. Excuse me? Finally she finished and told me that my silver-edged comb had been what made my bag suspicious. Whatever. Like I'm gonna cut someone with my comb?
We made it to our gate with plenty of time to get something to eat. It was at this point that I took the two pills that my doctor had given me. So by the time we got on the plane I wasn't quite as scared as I had originally thought I would be. In fact, I became very sleepy very quickly. I remember taking off and Teri adding her vodka to her juice, but the rest is a bit sketchy. I do remember getting a cookie from the very attentive flight attendant, and asking him for just a cup of ice, since I still had some of my bottle of breakfast Coke left. Beyond that, I remember dropping my coke bottle, my cookie wrapper, separate and together several times, and then I dropped the whole cup of ice on top of my laptop. I was having a little problem staying awake. I suppose I slept through the rest of the flight because the next thing I remember is being awakened by Teri, telling me we were in Nebraska. We got our stuff and got off the plane, and then somehow made it to the baggage claim area and got our bags. CeCe was outside waiting for us, and she had brought a friend with her to meet us. She was very nice.
It was decided that we would go to lunch before going to CeCe's house. I remember very little of it because I kept falling asleep, including while chewing food. Back in the car I went 'out' again, coming alive again when we were inside CeCe's garage. We made it in the house and got ourselves settled somewhat when I began nodding out again. When Teri accused me in front of everyone of being asleep while she was talking to me, I decided I might just be talked into a short (two hour) nap. Carl, CeCe's youngest son, woke me up at some point and asked if I was ready to get up. Huh? I went back to sleep and got up around the time supper was ready.
We had a nice time sitting around laughing and telling stories, and went to bed around 11 (?)
So far we have had a nice time, except for the fact that cootie Teri keeps taking pictures when I am not at 'my best', such as this afternoon, when I had to go take my afternoon nap (because I'm such a weenie). I am not responsible for anything that might happen to her on this trip. She is, after all, making a mockery of my delicate condition (I'm 'flicted). Payback is hell.
Today we went out to see a little bit of the area. I got to see what the outside of my sister's house looks like, since I was passed out yesterday when we got here. She lives in a very pretty neighborhead. We had lunch at the most UN-Chinese looking Chinese buffet I've ever seen...not a single oriental decoration except on the chopsticks. It was fun.
We also got to meet her granddaughter, Scarlet, this afternoon. What a cute child. She's 19mos and loves being the center of everyone's attention. We are going to see her again tomorrow, along with her parents, Marc and Elizabeth, to take some pictures at the park. Then tomorrow night CeCe is having her Oscar Mayer hot dog House Party. We all get hot dog whistles. WOOHOO! Can't wait!
Go to www.letmethinkonit.blogspot.com and www.cecelia-mythreesons.blogspot.com for alternate views of our little vacation. That is IF the other two sisters are able to walk after I read their entries about yesterday...
Teri and I began our day at 5am, meeting at the Kroger in Duluth. I had been unable to sleep the night before, so I just decided to stay up, and figured I would get some sleep on the plane. My doctor had already told me the day before which medicine to take once we got to the airport so I would be calm when we took off. I was petrified.
We drove to the Doraville MARTA station (did you know that the trains begin at 4:43AM from Doraville?), dragging along a whole bunch of crap that we probably didn't even need in our suitcases and carry-on bags. We had to walk a good way from the car to the train and by the time we went up the stairs, my rolling suitcase would not roll straight...it kept falling over and I had to jerk it back onto both wheels OVER AND OVER.
Our train ride was uneventful. The end of the line is the airport, so we rode for a while. And then we got to the airport. By this time we both had pretty bad backaches, and were questioning our decisions to bring our laptops in our carry-ons. I know I could have probably left mine at home, but I wanted to be able to record everything about our trip as soon as possible since my memory sucks.
We went to the counters to print our tickets and then got in line to check our bags. At this point my back hurt so bad I knew I could not walk the mile to our gate. We thought that with my handicapped status we could get on one of those cool carts we've seen in past trips to Hartsfield. We found our way to the handicapped sign and gave the nice (hateful) lady my information. Then we found out that all they had were wheelchairs and guys to push these wheelchairs to the front of every line we encountered. This was pretty cool except that Teri still had to walk that very long way with her back hurting like crazy. At least we got in front of the lines.
When we got to security, we went to the front of the line but had to take off our shoes, put our carry-ons, purses, and the contents of our pockets in the grey bins. Then we walked through the metal detector and thought we were clear, but were totally grossed out at having to be barefoot on the nasty floor at the airport. When my stuff finally came out of the scanner, I got my shoes on and got my purse. Then the security officer told me she was searching my bag. When she opened it, I saw one of my fans. I was hot so I reached for it and was given a stern warning to 'step away from the bag'. Excuse me? Finally she finished and told me that my silver-edged comb had been what made my bag suspicious. Whatever. Like I'm gonna cut someone with my comb?
We made it to our gate with plenty of time to get something to eat. It was at this point that I took the two pills that my doctor had given me. So by the time we got on the plane I wasn't quite as scared as I had originally thought I would be. In fact, I became very sleepy very quickly. I remember taking off and Teri adding her vodka to her juice, but the rest is a bit sketchy. I do remember getting a cookie from the very attentive flight attendant, and asking him for just a cup of ice, since I still had some of my bottle of breakfast Coke left. Beyond that, I remember dropping my coke bottle, my cookie wrapper, separate and together several times, and then I dropped the whole cup of ice on top of my laptop. I was having a little problem staying awake. I suppose I slept through the rest of the flight because the next thing I remember is being awakened by Teri, telling me we were in Nebraska. We got our stuff and got off the plane, and then somehow made it to the baggage claim area and got our bags. CeCe was outside waiting for us, and she had brought a friend with her to meet us. She was very nice.
It was decided that we would go to lunch before going to CeCe's house. I remember very little of it because I kept falling asleep, including while chewing food. Back in the car I went 'out' again, coming alive again when we were inside CeCe's garage. We made it in the house and got ourselves settled somewhat when I began nodding out again. When Teri accused me in front of everyone of being asleep while she was talking to me, I decided I might just be talked into a short (two hour) nap. Carl, CeCe's youngest son, woke me up at some point and asked if I was ready to get up. Huh? I went back to sleep and got up around the time supper was ready.
We had a nice time sitting around laughing and telling stories, and went to bed around 11 (?)
So far we have had a nice time, except for the fact that cootie Teri keeps taking pictures when I am not at 'my best', such as this afternoon, when I had to go take my afternoon nap (because I'm such a weenie). I am not responsible for anything that might happen to her on this trip. She is, after all, making a mockery of my delicate condition (I'm 'flicted). Payback is hell.
Today we went out to see a little bit of the area. I got to see what the outside of my sister's house looks like, since I was passed out yesterday when we got here. She lives in a very pretty neighborhead. We had lunch at the most UN-Chinese looking Chinese buffet I've ever seen...not a single oriental decoration except on the chopsticks. It was fun.
We also got to meet her granddaughter, Scarlet, this afternoon. What a cute child. She's 19mos and loves being the center of everyone's attention. We are going to see her again tomorrow, along with her parents, Marc and Elizabeth, to take some pictures at the park. Then tomorrow night CeCe is having her Oscar Mayer hot dog House Party. We all get hot dog whistles. WOOHOO! Can't wait!
Go to www.letmethinkonit.blogspot.com and www.cecelia-mythreesons.blogspot.com for alternate views of our little vacation. That is IF the other two sisters are able to walk after I read their entries about yesterday...
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Sports
The other day I passed a yard full of people playing volleyball. They looked to be having a large time, though I cannot understand why. I have ALWAYS hated volleyball. For one thing, it is really rough on the nails, but I can't even honestly say that's the reason I hate it. I SUCK AT VOLLEYBALL!
When I was younger, I went to a cookout at a friend's house. Unfortunately we had to play volleyball. I have never even been able to get a serve over the net, much less hit one that was knocked over by the other team. In fact, at this very picnic, when it was my turn to serve I did such a poor job of it, I hit the guy standing in front of me in the back of his head. Fortunately it was just someone I'll call 'Tony Shelton'. You may remember the 'pseudonym' from another 'story'. Yes, it was the same guy and I could not stand him. Although I didn't mean to hit him with the volleyball, it all worked out in the end (for me).
Actually, if truth be told, the ONLY part of volleyball that I've ever liked is when the ball is turned over to the other team and everyone shouts, "ROTATE!" and you take a couple of steps over or back. Hey, I never claimed to be an athlete but I did admit to being immature!
One year, CeCe and I decided we would learn how to play tennis. We got tennis rackets and balls and went to the city park where the lake is (can't remember if that's East or West) to hone our craft. We spent nearly the entire time, though, having to go outside of the courts to retrieve the balls that we hit over the 20 foot tall fence. That got old very fast. So we gave up tennis. We never figured out what the numbers for the score meant, anyway.
Now bowling proved to be something for which we were mediocre. In fact, I once bowled a 200. These were our drinking days, though, and we would spend much of the lane time 'stunt bowling'. We were called out to stop walking on the lane or throwing the ball so it didn't hit the lane until halfway down. Stupid stuff like that. It seemed fun at the time. Now it doesn't really. I think if I picked up a bowling ball and actually threw it, my arm might break off with the ball still attached to my fingers, or my back would just go ahead and crush itself. And it used to be funny when we would fall during our 'stunt bowling', but I think if I did that now I'd have to leave the bowling alley in an ambulance. It sucks getting old.
I did play softball for many years, but finally had to give that up, too, because I REALLY sucked at that, and would get my feelings hurt when I was taken out of a game. The only part of softball that I was good at was throwing. I could throw so hard you could hear the wind on the ball as it flew through the air. Running? Terrible. Batting? Sucker for high and inside (which ALWAYS got me out!) Fielding the ball? So-so. More bad than good. I LOVED it when we played against First Methodist in Lawrenceville (I think that was the team) because my shorthand teacher was on that team. Since we were playing ball, I made sure to call her Ethel (her real name) about a hundred times a game. Ethel this and Ethel that. She didn't like it much, but I loved it and that's what really matters, right?
When Trey played T-ball his second time years ago, I agreed to coach the team since no one else would. I finally had to beg some of the dads to take over the batting practice after hitting so many of the kids with the ball and making them cry. I was afraid they would all quit on me! So I gave up all of my duties except for being first base coach. I LOVED doing that, even though my 'advice' was ALWAYS the same...RUN TO SECOND! The other teams were never prepared for it, and even though we did it every time, they never EVER got us out. Maybe that was sortof mean, but it sure was fun!
My only other experience with sports was when I was a senior in high school. I signed up with my friends to take a soccer class with the soccer team. I'm sure it's obvious why we signed up. We had no intention of actually PLAYING soccer. We just thought it would be an easy class that we could ace, and since the whole soccer team was in the class, we knew it was gonna be lots of fun. Until the first day of class. Our teacher, who we called, 'Slutty' made us run a whole mile first thing. Before we did any soccer stuff. And then she actually made us learn how to play soccer and we had to *gasp* take tests on the RULES of soccer! How dare she?!
And THEN it got worse....she made us play soccer against the soccer team every day. After our mile run. I am convinced that the only reason I passed the class was because I dressed out every day. Those were the days of the Sports Palace in Lawrenceville, and I had some pretty sweet sweats to wear to class...all color coordinated, of course. So I was going to dress out.
I have to admit that the only thing I learned in soccer class is that you don't kick the ball with the toe of your shoe. You use the side of your foot. I have no idea why. Maybe that was covered in class. I don't know. It could have been that day when 'Katie' and I skipped class to go to Northlake Mall to shop for prom dresses. Whatever.
I had hoped my son would not take after me in my non-sports-talent, but it wasn't to be so. He hates sports, even though he played soccer, t-ball twice, basketball, and football (that one didn't last very long). Oh, well. At least he tried. I remember at one of his field days at elementary school and one of his events was doing the hula hoop, which is another of my non-skills. He was pretty good at it. I have never been able to do it. I even have one that I got at the dollar store in my car. I'm going to have to watch some youtube videos to see if I can figure out what I'm doing wrong. This could help my core muscles, which could help my back.
My son's greatest skill, sports-wise, is shooting. He is an excellent shot, and was on the air rifle team at North Gwinnett. I was and am so proud of him. His interest in shooting has led him to working as a loss prevention officer at two different stores right now. He was working at one store but they laid off the entire department. A month later they called him back, so he works there about once a week so he can still get the discount. His full-time job is at another store at Lakeshore Mall. While I'm not thrilled about him working in that area, this is something he is great at and he loves it. He eventually wants to be a police officer, and although I don't want this career for him, I know he will be very good at it.
Back to the sports...I own a pair of tap shoes. The kind that are patent leather with the big ribbon bow on them. I wish to take tap dancing lessons, hoping it might help me with my weight and my coordination since I fall a LOT. Never fear. I will be sure and invite you all to my first recital! Maybe this will be THE THING I'm finally good at!!!!
I do like baseball, as long as I don't have to be the one playing it. Used to love Brett Butler, Dale Murphy, Claudell Washington, Brad Komminsk, David Justice, Sid Bream, Otis Nixon...too many to list. Will never forget the game in 1984 against the Padres, when the benches emptied about 10 times, and finally the umpires only allowed the players who were in the game at that moment on the field or in the dugout. The rest were banned to the clubhouse. All because the Padres kept beaning Pascual Perez. So he HAD to reciprocate. It's just a given. But it never stopped. Was a very exciting game with lots of punches thrown and lots of players and managers ejected from the game. I think Joe Torre was the coach back then.
That reminds me...didn't you just despise Bobby Valentine? I know he was with the Mets, but I hated even seeing his jerk face ANY TIME on tv. I heard he's happy in Japan. Good for him, though I have no idea how a man who doesn't speak Japanese can effectively coach a team of men who don't speak English. He's just a big old jerk, though, so I guess this is his Siberia.
When I was younger, I went to a cookout at a friend's house. Unfortunately we had to play volleyball. I have never even been able to get a serve over the net, much less hit one that was knocked over by the other team. In fact, at this very picnic, when it was my turn to serve I did such a poor job of it, I hit the guy standing in front of me in the back of his head. Fortunately it was just someone I'll call 'Tony Shelton'. You may remember the 'pseudonym' from another 'story'. Yes, it was the same guy and I could not stand him. Although I didn't mean to hit him with the volleyball, it all worked out in the end (for me).
Actually, if truth be told, the ONLY part of volleyball that I've ever liked is when the ball is turned over to the other team and everyone shouts, "ROTATE!" and you take a couple of steps over or back. Hey, I never claimed to be an athlete but I did admit to being immature!
One year, CeCe and I decided we would learn how to play tennis. We got tennis rackets and balls and went to the city park where the lake is (can't remember if that's East or West) to hone our craft. We spent nearly the entire time, though, having to go outside of the courts to retrieve the balls that we hit over the 20 foot tall fence. That got old very fast. So we gave up tennis. We never figured out what the numbers for the score meant, anyway.
Now bowling proved to be something for which we were mediocre. In fact, I once bowled a 200. These were our drinking days, though, and we would spend much of the lane time 'stunt bowling'. We were called out to stop walking on the lane or throwing the ball so it didn't hit the lane until halfway down. Stupid stuff like that. It seemed fun at the time. Now it doesn't really. I think if I picked up a bowling ball and actually threw it, my arm might break off with the ball still attached to my fingers, or my back would just go ahead and crush itself. And it used to be funny when we would fall during our 'stunt bowling', but I think if I did that now I'd have to leave the bowling alley in an ambulance. It sucks getting old.
I did play softball for many years, but finally had to give that up, too, because I REALLY sucked at that, and would get my feelings hurt when I was taken out of a game. The only part of softball that I was good at was throwing. I could throw so hard you could hear the wind on the ball as it flew through the air. Running? Terrible. Batting? Sucker for high and inside (which ALWAYS got me out!) Fielding the ball? So-so. More bad than good. I LOVED it when we played against First Methodist in Lawrenceville (I think that was the team) because my shorthand teacher was on that team. Since we were playing ball, I made sure to call her Ethel (her real name) about a hundred times a game. Ethel this and Ethel that. She didn't like it much, but I loved it and that's what really matters, right?
When Trey played T-ball his second time years ago, I agreed to coach the team since no one else would. I finally had to beg some of the dads to take over the batting practice after hitting so many of the kids with the ball and making them cry. I was afraid they would all quit on me! So I gave up all of my duties except for being first base coach. I LOVED doing that, even though my 'advice' was ALWAYS the same...RUN TO SECOND! The other teams were never prepared for it, and even though we did it every time, they never EVER got us out. Maybe that was sortof mean, but it sure was fun!
My only other experience with sports was when I was a senior in high school. I signed up with my friends to take a soccer class with the soccer team. I'm sure it's obvious why we signed up. We had no intention of actually PLAYING soccer. We just thought it would be an easy class that we could ace, and since the whole soccer team was in the class, we knew it was gonna be lots of fun. Until the first day of class. Our teacher, who we called, 'Slutty' made us run a whole mile first thing. Before we did any soccer stuff. And then she actually made us learn how to play soccer and we had to *gasp* take tests on the RULES of soccer! How dare she?!
And THEN it got worse....she made us play soccer against the soccer team every day. After our mile run. I am convinced that the only reason I passed the class was because I dressed out every day. Those were the days of the Sports Palace in Lawrenceville, and I had some pretty sweet sweats to wear to class...all color coordinated, of course. So I was going to dress out.
I have to admit that the only thing I learned in soccer class is that you don't kick the ball with the toe of your shoe. You use the side of your foot. I have no idea why. Maybe that was covered in class. I don't know. It could have been that day when 'Katie' and I skipped class to go to Northlake Mall to shop for prom dresses. Whatever.
I had hoped my son would not take after me in my non-sports-talent, but it wasn't to be so. He hates sports, even though he played soccer, t-ball twice, basketball, and football (that one didn't last very long). Oh, well. At least he tried. I remember at one of his field days at elementary school and one of his events was doing the hula hoop, which is another of my non-skills. He was pretty good at it. I have never been able to do it. I even have one that I got at the dollar store in my car. I'm going to have to watch some youtube videos to see if I can figure out what I'm doing wrong. This could help my core muscles, which could help my back.
My son's greatest skill, sports-wise, is shooting. He is an excellent shot, and was on the air rifle team at North Gwinnett. I was and am so proud of him. His interest in shooting has led him to working as a loss prevention officer at two different stores right now. He was working at one store but they laid off the entire department. A month later they called him back, so he works there about once a week so he can still get the discount. His full-time job is at another store at Lakeshore Mall. While I'm not thrilled about him working in that area, this is something he is great at and he loves it. He eventually wants to be a police officer, and although I don't want this career for him, I know he will be very good at it.
Back to the sports...I own a pair of tap shoes. The kind that are patent leather with the big ribbon bow on them. I wish to take tap dancing lessons, hoping it might help me with my weight and my coordination since I fall a LOT. Never fear. I will be sure and invite you all to my first recital! Maybe this will be THE THING I'm finally good at!!!!
I do like baseball, as long as I don't have to be the one playing it. Used to love Brett Butler, Dale Murphy, Claudell Washington, Brad Komminsk, David Justice, Sid Bream, Otis Nixon...too many to list. Will never forget the game in 1984 against the Padres, when the benches emptied about 10 times, and finally the umpires only allowed the players who were in the game at that moment on the field or in the dugout. The rest were banned to the clubhouse. All because the Padres kept beaning Pascual Perez. So he HAD to reciprocate. It's just a given. But it never stopped. Was a very exciting game with lots of punches thrown and lots of players and managers ejected from the game. I think Joe Torre was the coach back then.
That reminds me...didn't you just despise Bobby Valentine? I know he was with the Mets, but I hated even seeing his jerk face ANY TIME on tv. I heard he's happy in Japan. Good for him, though I have no idea how a man who doesn't speak Japanese can effectively coach a team of men who don't speak English. He's just a big old jerk, though, so I guess this is his Siberia.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Time going faster...
Just one more full day left before Teri and I leave for Nebraska to visit CeCe and her family. While I am looking forward to finally seeing all of the wonders of Nebraska (no, I've never been there even though they have lived there 17 years...I know...I suck), I am NOT looking forward to the flight.
I HATE flying. It would be perfectly fine with me to never go any farther than a few hour's drive from my house. Unfortunately a family member lives out of that range. I've used every 'excuse' I could think of ( having major surgery, an unreliable car, no money ) over the years, but I promised that WHEN my Social Security Disability case was closed out I would make the trip. After three long years the case was decided and now I have to go to Nebraska. On an airplane.
I would almost rather drive, even though it is a 20-plus hour drive. Holy cow! We can't do that! So we're flying, thanks to the kindness of a family friend, who is a retired pilot for Delta. They really are ready when you are. And maybe even before you are.
Teri has chosen her method of coping. All I can say is that 8 am is just too early for me to drink vodka, especially since I don't drink. I might have been lured into it, but would be too afraid that it would cause me to have to use the restroom, meaning I would have to unfasten my seatbelt and actually stand up and walk while the airplane was in the air. NO WAY IS THAT GONNA HAPPEN! So I have an appointment with my very on-the-level primary care physician tomorrow to obtain the necessary prescription for whatever '-azepam' or '-lude' or '-lium' will give me the amount of restful comfort I need in order to get on that plane. I will need to take this medicine before leaving the house since my son is driving us to the MARTA station at 5am. He scares every bit of hell out of me, and I don't want to have to change my pants until I at least arrive in Omaha.
Oh, and the College Baseball World Series is going on while we will be there. I contacted my brother to see if he needed his three sisters to handle the coverage of any games, but he refused, and he was rude. Imagine that. Chuck being rude? I might just call in to the radio station on Monday, anyway, and give them an update from the trenches. Of course I will disclose my relationship to 'Kang'. Why not? Will this make him stop coming to my house? Stop taking my calls? I think not.
I HATE flying. It would be perfectly fine with me to never go any farther than a few hour's drive from my house. Unfortunately a family member lives out of that range. I've used every 'excuse' I could think of ( having major surgery, an unreliable car, no money ) over the years, but I promised that WHEN my Social Security Disability case was closed out I would make the trip. After three long years the case was decided and now I have to go to Nebraska. On an airplane.
I would almost rather drive, even though it is a 20-plus hour drive. Holy cow! We can't do that! So we're flying, thanks to the kindness of a family friend, who is a retired pilot for Delta. They really are ready when you are. And maybe even before you are.
Teri has chosen her method of coping. All I can say is that 8 am is just too early for me to drink vodka, especially since I don't drink. I might have been lured into it, but would be too afraid that it would cause me to have to use the restroom, meaning I would have to unfasten my seatbelt and actually stand up and walk while the airplane was in the air. NO WAY IS THAT GONNA HAPPEN! So I have an appointment with my very on-the-level primary care physician tomorrow to obtain the necessary prescription for whatever '-azepam' or '-lude' or '-lium' will give me the amount of restful comfort I need in order to get on that plane. I will need to take this medicine before leaving the house since my son is driving us to the MARTA station at 5am. He scares every bit of hell out of me, and I don't want to have to change my pants until I at least arrive in Omaha.
Oh, and the College Baseball World Series is going on while we will be there. I contacted my brother to see if he needed his three sisters to handle the coverage of any games, but he refused, and he was rude. Imagine that. Chuck being rude? I might just call in to the radio station on Monday, anyway, and give them an update from the trenches. Of course I will disclose my relationship to 'Kang'. Why not? Will this make him stop coming to my house? Stop taking my calls? I think not.
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