I am less than two weeks away from going under the knife. On Monday, October 8, I’ll be having a myomectomy to remove the 7 or so fibroids that are making my life less than stellar. I will spend two to four days in the hospital and then recuperate at home for anywhere from six to eight weeks. We have spent the past couple of weeks periodically making arrangements for this time – mapping out medical leave (Sweet Dub will take one week off), arranging for my in-laws to take Viva the night before, etc.
One of the reasons I am having the surgery is to eliminate the back pain I’ve been having, which is fairly constant at a dull roar but likes to flare up with screaming meemies every now and then. The past couple of nights I have not been able to get comfortable enough to go to sleep. So last night I was channel-surfing and came across this show, about a family with 8 kids – first a set of twins, and then sextuplets. I missed the first part of the show, but was intrigued because the mom was preparing to have surgery with a long recuperation and I was wondering if she was having something similar. Er, nope – she was having a tummy tuck. But she went shopping with her 5-year-old twins to buy enough food to prepare two weeks’ worth of meals. Sweet fanciful Moses! It took her 24 hours to cook all the food, and then she was on to packing clothes and diapers and the kitchen sink for all her kids as they were preparing to drop them all off with various friends and relatives.
Let’s stop right there for a second, because I’m still floored by the food (and let’s face it, laundry? For 8 kids? Yes, that gives me nightmares). The mom, Kate, explained that she wanted to cook all the food for her kids ahead of time because they had never yet tasted junk food and she wanted them to have organic food as much as possible, which is admirable, and I can see where she’s coming from. And her husband, like mine (love you, babe!) is not all that skillful in the kitchen. But let me tell you, the second I found out I’d be in bed for at least a week, two words came to mind: Trader Joe’s.
Trader Joe’s, sweetie. It won’t kill you. I intend to stock up on as much frozen food as possible and try some new things I’ve never had before. It’ll be an adventure!
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Don’t Get Caught with Your Pants Down
As the school year has recently kicked off, and with the 6th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks fresh in our minds, I think there is no time like the present to take stock. More specifically: it’s time to get prepared. Are you ready in case of an emergency?
(By the way: Two posts in 24 hours? WHAT?!)
(Ahem.)
Sweet Dub and I have always had earthquake bags and first aid kits in our cars and in the house. But it’s hard to keep up-to-date on the emergency bags when you have a little one. At a birthday party this summer, Viva soaked through her shirt with a melting Sno-Cone not once but twice. I always carry one change of clothes with us, but wasn’t prepared for her to have another wardrobe change during a 3-hour party. I rummaged through the emergency bag in my trunk and came up with a size 2T T-shirt. It was a stretchy material, and it actually sorta fit, which I think is why it was in there in the first place, but still. She currently wears a 5T, people.
So I think the Blah Blahs will be staging Emergency Preparedness Weekend to go through our house and cars, restock on water, pack emergency kits for at work (jerky and granola bars, anyone?), and update our family phone tree.
If you haven’t done this recently, I hope you’ll consider doing the same. Because an ounce of prevention is worth – oh, you know the rest.
(By the way: Two posts in 24 hours? WHAT?!)
(Ahem.)
Sweet Dub and I have always had earthquake bags and first aid kits in our cars and in the house. But it’s hard to keep up-to-date on the emergency bags when you have a little one. At a birthday party this summer, Viva soaked through her shirt with a melting Sno-Cone not once but twice. I always carry one change of clothes with us, but wasn’t prepared for her to have another wardrobe change during a 3-hour party. I rummaged through the emergency bag in my trunk and came up with a size 2T T-shirt. It was a stretchy material, and it actually sorta fit, which I think is why it was in there in the first place, but still. She currently wears a 5T, people.
So I think the Blah Blahs will be staging Emergency Preparedness Weekend to go through our house and cars, restock on water, pack emergency kits for at work (jerky and granola bars, anyone?), and update our family phone tree.
If you haven’t done this recently, I hope you’ll consider doing the same. Because an ounce of prevention is worth – oh, you know the rest.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
That Thing, That Thing, That -- Huh?
Aaaaand, we’re back. Yes, I realize that I am now posting about once a week. This is because my life has gotten even more hectic than previously, and let me tell you why. I informed my boss and her boss that I will need six to eight weeks off for this medical leave, starting in early October. All of a sudden, it appears, I must try to do everything that is crucial that would need to be done through mid-November within the next four weeks.
This evening, my boss’ boss tried to reassure me that I needn’t worry about all that. He may as well write his name on the wind. He doesn’t seem to get the significance of my having been raised in New England, which means that (a) I have that annoying Puritan work ethic and (b) I internalize all anxiety related to that. My stomach lining is like the ozone layer right now. Added to my existing medical issues and I don’t have a whole lot of energy left over for much more than rolling around on the rug with Viva, practicing somersaults. Wait, I only did that three times. I was sure I was going to dislocate my neck or something, and that, on top of everything else, would quite definitely make my husband leave me*. And I just can’t have that.
So anyway, I am making myself a little nuts with work, despite having potentially met half of my fundraising goal for this fiscal year in the first quarter (hey, and we’re not even finished with the first quarter yet. This freakin’ rocks!). Blah blah blah, work stuff is completely boring since I can’t tell you any of the details that make it interesting.
Example: I went to a work thing today where roughly one-third of our entire staff attended. (Maybe 100 people). I don’t understand why some people do not get what proper work attire is. I will not give the play-by-play, but flip flops? NO. NO. NO. I can’t say it enough. NO. For God’s sake, NO. If you wear them with suit pants and a blouse, it looks ridiculous. If you wear them with some cavernous burlap sack dress, it looks like you have truly given up caring and are just waiting to throw yourself in front of a train. Either way, I don’t want to see it and neither does anyone else.
Speaking of which, what the…???
(Link to story) I am speechless. And kind of sad. It seems like Lauryn Hill has been having some kind of breakdown over the past few years and no one is doing anything about it. What’s happened to her? I say this as a fan of her music – I think she is hugely talented. I mean, look at that picture again.** And then look at this. What on God’s green earth??
Sigh.
Someday I will write a post which will be poignant and evocative and leave my readers gazing wistfully out the window and marveling at the wonders of the world. Today is not that day, my friends.
See you next week.
* Yes, he’s been threatening to do that lately because Viva and I are both so accident-prone that he can’t stand to be around us. Last week, I mangled my toe such that I couldn’t wear a regular shoe. But in what has to be a record, within a 20-minute span, Viva fell and scraped her knee, dropped her eraser into the toilet, and then pinched the side of her hand in the bathroom door, breaking the skin. Sweet Dub went screaming off into the other room that we were driving him nuts and he just couldn’t take it anymore and if one more thing went wrong with one of us he was going to lose hi s mind. Yes, I was the calm one at that moment. We have a flair for the dramatic, we Blah Blahs. It is our way.
** I suppose I should thank my friend, Mr. X, for sending me that link. Well, thanks for nothing! Aw, whatever, I love you, you big baby. Stop crying. No, seriously, stop it.
This evening, my boss’ boss tried to reassure me that I needn’t worry about all that. He may as well write his name on the wind. He doesn’t seem to get the significance of my having been raised in New England, which means that (a) I have that annoying Puritan work ethic and (b) I internalize all anxiety related to that. My stomach lining is like the ozone layer right now. Added to my existing medical issues and I don’t have a whole lot of energy left over for much more than rolling around on the rug with Viva, practicing somersaults. Wait, I only did that three times. I was sure I was going to dislocate my neck or something, and that, on top of everything else, would quite definitely make my husband leave me*. And I just can’t have that.
So anyway, I am making myself a little nuts with work, despite having potentially met half of my fundraising goal for this fiscal year in the first quarter (hey, and we’re not even finished with the first quarter yet. This freakin’ rocks!). Blah blah blah, work stuff is completely boring since I can’t tell you any of the details that make it interesting.
Example: I went to a work thing today where roughly one-third of our entire staff attended. (Maybe 100 people). I don’t understand why some people do not get what proper work attire is. I will not give the play-by-play, but flip flops? NO. NO. NO. I can’t say it enough. NO. For God’s sake, NO. If you wear them with suit pants and a blouse, it looks ridiculous. If you wear them with some cavernous burlap sack dress, it looks like you have truly given up caring and are just waiting to throw yourself in front of a train. Either way, I don’t want to see it and neither does anyone else.
Speaking of which, what the…???
(Link to story) I am speechless. And kind of sad. It seems like Lauryn Hill has been having some kind of breakdown over the past few years and no one is doing anything about it. What’s happened to her? I say this as a fan of her music – I think she is hugely talented. I mean, look at that picture again.** And then look at this. What on God’s green earth??
Sigh.
Someday I will write a post which will be poignant and evocative and leave my readers gazing wistfully out the window and marveling at the wonders of the world. Today is not that day, my friends.
See you next week.
* Yes, he’s been threatening to do that lately because Viva and I are both so accident-prone that he can’t stand to be around us. Last week, I mangled my toe such that I couldn’t wear a regular shoe. But in what has to be a record, within a 20-minute span, Viva fell and scraped her knee, dropped her eraser into the toilet, and then pinched the side of her hand in the bathroom door, breaking the skin. Sweet Dub went screaming off into the other room that we were driving him nuts and he just couldn’t take it anymore and if one more thing went wrong with one of us he was going to lose hi s mind. Yes, I was the calm one at that moment. We have a flair for the dramatic, we Blah Blahs. It is our way.
** I suppose I should thank my friend, Mr. X, for sending me that link. Well, thanks for nothing! Aw, whatever, I love you, you big baby. Stop crying. No, seriously, stop it.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Disco Inferno
This post is brought to you today by the letter H (for HOT) and the number 90 (for super freakin' hot).
1. Hey, guess what? It's September in Southern California, which means it's the hottest time of year. My brain, she is melting. Hence and therefore, I can't promise that this post will be about much of anything besides the heat, for which I apologize in advance because I am quite sure that many of the 7 people that read here regularly are probably also quite hot. And I mean that in both senses of the word. Smooch, smooch.
2. The chorus to "Disco Inferno" is in my head. Burn, baby, burn. Hey, now it's in yours. See how sneaky I am?
3. Medical update: I am having surgery in early October to rid myself of these dratted fibroids. Did you know that compared to other races, African-American women are 3 to 9 times more likely to have fibroids, develop fibroids at a younger age, and have more numerous fibroids? Whee! I got ripped off on the melanin, but I got the fibroids. It is like some frickin' cosmic joke.
4. I am relieved to be having the surgery, which shows you that things have gotten pretty damn bad around here.
5. Speaking of melanin, the Blah Blah family went to the beach this weekend. After a couple hours sitting by the water in the sun, I was completely incapacitated for the rest of the day. We arrived at the beach at 8:40 AM and left by 11:00 AM. Once again, it is hard to believe that I am descended from people who toiled for hours in the sun.
6. Viva was reunited with her best friend on Saturday. (Her best friend, who she's known since the age of 2, recently moved to a different school. Her older brother was having issues with one of the teachers and Best Friend's parents decided to move both kids.) There was much rejoicing. I brought my camera but damned if it didn't come out of my purse the entire four hours of the playdate. Again, I blame it on the heat. Because I can.
7. When I arrived at work this morning, there were fire engines outside my building. As you might imagine, not wanting to sizzle like a blister in the sun, I asked the parking attendant about it as I was driving in. "Fire drill," he said, waving me in. Hey, you know what? WRONG. Rolling blackout, and people were trapped in the elevators, and the firefighters were trying to get them out. Since I always take the stairs, I was spared that. However, I did end up stuck at work for a couple of hours with no phone, no power, no air conditioning. By about 9:30, I was sweating and yet still taking calls on my cell phone from someone I work with, detailing all the work I needed to do once I got home. Damn. So unlike some people who can only work if they're on the network, no extra day off for me. I can always write from home.
8. Nonetheless, this doesn't mean I might not run a few errands. I just realized that I've managed to go all summer with one pair of decent shorts. I pretty much wear either them or one of two pairs of capri pants when I'm hanging around the house like this, so maybe I'll actually buy another pair. Bonus: they may actually be on sale because it is so late in the season. I'm also trying not to run the air conditioning here at home because it makes Sweet Dub have the conniptions. So the mall, the library, and the movie theater are all looking like great options.
9. And, I'm out. It's heating up in here. Time to hit the dry cleaners and grab something iced to drink. Peace!
1. Hey, guess what? It's September in Southern California, which means it's the hottest time of year. My brain, she is melting. Hence and therefore, I can't promise that this post will be about much of anything besides the heat, for which I apologize in advance because I am quite sure that many of the 7 people that read here regularly are probably also quite hot. And I mean that in both senses of the word. Smooch, smooch.
2. The chorus to "Disco Inferno" is in my head. Burn, baby, burn. Hey, now it's in yours. See how sneaky I am?
3. Medical update: I am having surgery in early October to rid myself of these dratted fibroids. Did you know that compared to other races, African-American women are 3 to 9 times more likely to have fibroids, develop fibroids at a younger age, and have more numerous fibroids? Whee! I got ripped off on the melanin, but I got the fibroids. It is like some frickin' cosmic joke.
4. I am relieved to be having the surgery, which shows you that things have gotten pretty damn bad around here.
5. Speaking of melanin, the Blah Blah family went to the beach this weekend. After a couple hours sitting by the water in the sun, I was completely incapacitated for the rest of the day. We arrived at the beach at 8:40 AM and left by 11:00 AM. Once again, it is hard to believe that I am descended from people who toiled for hours in the sun.
6. Viva was reunited with her best friend on Saturday. (Her best friend, who she's known since the age of 2, recently moved to a different school. Her older brother was having issues with one of the teachers and Best Friend's parents decided to move both kids.) There was much rejoicing. I brought my camera but damned if it didn't come out of my purse the entire four hours of the playdate. Again, I blame it on the heat. Because I can.
7. When I arrived at work this morning, there were fire engines outside my building. As you might imagine, not wanting to sizzle like a blister in the sun, I asked the parking attendant about it as I was driving in. "Fire drill," he said, waving me in. Hey, you know what? WRONG. Rolling blackout, and people were trapped in the elevators, and the firefighters were trying to get them out. Since I always take the stairs, I was spared that. However, I did end up stuck at work for a couple of hours with no phone, no power, no air conditioning. By about 9:30, I was sweating and yet still taking calls on my cell phone from someone I work with, detailing all the work I needed to do once I got home. Damn. So unlike some people who can only work if they're on the network, no extra day off for me. I can always write from home.
8. Nonetheless, this doesn't mean I might not run a few errands. I just realized that I've managed to go all summer with one pair of decent shorts. I pretty much wear either them or one of two pairs of capri pants when I'm hanging around the house like this, so maybe I'll actually buy another pair. Bonus: they may actually be on sale because it is so late in the season. I'm also trying not to run the air conditioning here at home because it makes Sweet Dub have the conniptions. So the mall, the library, and the movie theater are all looking like great options.
9. And, I'm out. It's heating up in here. Time to hit the dry cleaners and grab something iced to drink. Peace!
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