OMG!

I'm sure by now you're familiar with our Thanksgiving-Eve visit to the emergency room when John developed kidney stones.
Before we went to the ER, we had gone to the Immediate Care Center located next door, not realizing how serious his situation was, thinking perhaps he had a stomach flu or some virus. And neither of us are the types to go to an E.R. unless we feel it's a major emergency, thus the reason for going to the ICC.
When we arrived at ICC, there was nobody ahead of us, so they took John directly back. Other than taking his temperature (which was normal) and his blood pressure, they did nothing to him. The doctor asked him a couple of questions and told him he would be better off going to the E.R. next door. Before leaving the building, they did not give us a copy of the patient services page that the doctor normally marks on to show what tests were run, a diagnosis, etc. The doctor basically waved us away and told us not to worry about stopping at the front desk on our way out, so we felt he was just brushing the incident aside as if it had never happened.
Needless to say, we were wrong.
I received a bill in the mail yesterday.
For the approximately 3 minutes John was there they charged our insurance company $452.00.
Even if we'd been there a full 5 minutes, that's almost a $100 a minute. How on earth do these doctors/companies justify that amount for doing nothing????
Fortunately, our portion of the bill is only $10.26, which I suppose is to cover the use of their thermometer, wear and tear on the bp cuff, and fresh paper on the exam table.

In a separate bill we received this week from the hospital, they charged $6313.75, and that's just the hospital's charges. That doesn't include the lab or the doctor's charges.
We were there for approximately 5 hours, so that's over $1200/hour.
OMG!! I hate to think what it would've been if they'd admitted him for the night.
Geesh, do you think they charge more for holidays and after-hours visits??

New Years Resolution

I'm not much on making resolutions, much less for keeping them.
But there is one I'd like to make for the 2010 calendar year and if my aching bones will permit me, it's one I'd like to achieve before 12/31/2010 comes around.
My resolution?
I'd like to complete at least one of the 5k's I enter this year at a jog.
Thus far, I've walked everyone that I've entered, and I've successfully finished them all.
I'm not a runner. Never have been. Never will be.
But perhaps a light jog would be doable.
I've got 365 days to accomplish this.
No pressure.
Of course it's something I'll have to work at and build up to.
I've got weak ankles, bad knees and a bad back, so I don't know how successful I'll be, but I'm going to give it my best shot.

Happy New Years!

I posted this back in December of '05. Thought it was time to dust it off and post it again...

New Years Eve
''Twas the night before New Years and all through our pad,
We were set to go partying and that made us glad.
Dining with friends and partying hard,
I was planning on dancing a full dance card.
Waiting for midnight, down the hours we counted,
As the evening passed, our excitement mounted.
With Babe in her evening gown and I in my tux,
We both felt great, like a million bucks.
Then over the P.A., the dj cried out,
"It's time to dance, let's 'Twist & Shout'!"
So we hit the dance floor and got into a groove,
Twisting and shouting we busted a move.
We line danced and jitterbugged and discoed and hopped,
We shagged and shuffled to a little bee-bop.
Then all of a sudden the countdown began,
We prepared to celebrate with our noisemakers in hand.
The ball began, to make it's decent,
And to that great sphere our attention was lent.
Balloons were falling, confetti was thrown,
The atmosphere was festive all around the town.
"Auld Lang Syne", as the tradition goes,
But what are the lyrics, who really knows?
A toast and a kiss to the one I love most,
This scene'd be repeated later, out on the coast.
It's now 12:01, and a new years began,
Happy New Years to you and to all of your kin!

Song memories

We all have songs that we hold near and dear to our hearts, perhaps because it's what was playing during that first date, first kiss, first dance, at your wedding, etc...
But what about the other songs that stir memories not tied to any romantic moments?

I can't hear the song "Homegrown Tomatoes" by Guy Clark without remembering back to when I was taking drivers ed. It was on the radio constantly and I remember my fellow students and I absolutely cracking up with laughter the first time we heard it. It's a wonder the one that was driving didn't wreck the car.

The Randy Travis song "Diggin' Up Bones" always reminds me of my carpool days when I worked at Coke. The guy I used to carpool with always had the country station on and we arrived at work early one evening (we worked night shift) and we sat out in the parking lot talking before time to punch-in. That song came on the radio and he cranked it up. As a man who'd gone through more than a few divorces, I guess that song hit home with him. After he married wife #5 (I was married by then as well) I had started to keep my distance from him as I truly didn't like his most recent choice (among several bad choices). He went on to work someplace else and we lost touch. Every time I hear that song now, I wonder whatever happened to my friend and how many marriages he has under his belt now.

I was in 3rd grade (I think) when all the students put on a pageant for Arbor Day, which at some point over the years has been changed and is now called "Earth Day". Our class had to sing the song "Let Your Love Flow" by the Bellamy Brothers.

Music can relax us, motivate us to get up and move or help us get into a rhythm, but it can also conjure up a lot of old memories.
What songs stir your memories??

Little Tea Pot

I'm a little tea pot short and stout. Here is my handle, here is my spout. When I get all steamed up I just shout: Tip me over and pour me out!

Who among us didn't learn that little song when we were children? I have heard slight variations over the years, but it's all basically the same.
Back in 1990 or '91, when I was still working at Coke, I and two of my fellow co-workers were sent to attend the Dale Carnegie School on How To Win Friends and Influence People. I can't remember how long the course lasted, 14 weeks maybe. None of us wanted to go, were not happy about being forced to attend, and I don't know as it did any of us any good. Norman & Mark, my 2 co-workers, managed to skip as many classes as they possibly could. I think I was one of the very few students in the whole class with perfect attendance. By now you're probably wondering what Dale Carnegie and the tea pot song have to do with one another. Well, if any of you have taken this course, then you probably know. If you haven't, then allow me to explain...
The course teaches you many things, among them: Remember items on a list by visualizing them, how to remember the names of people you've met only once, how to speak in public (in front of a crowd), and topic transference (that's not what it was actually called, but the exact name escapes me... see, I told you the course didn't do me much good).
Part of learning to become comfortable speaking in front of people is having to get up in front of everyone and perform some silly skit that eases the tension, sort of breaks the ice to lighten the mood. Norman, a 6'3" tall, skinny black man and Mark, an almost as tall, heavy set white man with a basset hound face had to get up in front of everyone and sing this song and go through the motions, one of them being the tea pot, the other one tipping him over to pour out the tea.
Obviously, the translation loses a lot of the humor, but the memory in my head is hysterical.

I'm not much of a tea drinker. I can choke down iced tea if it's really sweet, but hot tea... BLECH!! Gag me!! And despite my dislike of hot tea, I recently purchased a tea pot. Sort of.
A lady I've been helping at work since the death of her father a couple of months ago, turned me on to this gizmo. It's a netipot. I was having an awful sinus attack one day when she came into the office and she started telling me about her own battle with sinus problems. She had started using the NeilMed sinus wash and it had helped her immensely. I hesitated to purchase one, as the thought of purposely flushing out my sinus passage made me cringe. I had visions of drowning. The item she recommended was actually a soft bottle you squeeze gently to send the spray up your nose. I finally decided to try it and look for it at the pharmacy. There were two options, the squeeze bottle she recommended, and the netipot. I purchased both. My little netipot is blue and looks just like a little tea pot. The first time I used it, it was a very strange sensation that left me gagging a bit, but I've learned to keep breathing, don't resist it, and the process goes much smoother.
I won't say it's completely cured my sinus problems, but I will say this much... it's opened up both of my nasal passages a lot more and I'm able to breath through both nostrils at the same time, much more of the time. And I feel like my sense of smell is somewhat better (not that it was bad before, just more acute now). I love my little tea pot.
Every time I see it sitting on the counter, I can't help but think of Norman & Mark performing their little skit and it makes me smile.

I've lost it.

Several years (7 or 8 maybe?), when blogging was in it's infancy, my friend and dog-in-law "Junosmom", encouraged me to start blogging. I'd never heard of blogging and up to that point, I used to write stories and anecdotes about things happening in my life or things I observed happening around me, and then I'd email those out to some of my family and friends who I thought might enjoy reading them. I got a lot of positive feedback in those days, many people encouraging me to write more or try my hand at it professionally.
After Junosmom turned me on to blogging, the floodgates opened and I went on a writing rampage. Of course I made the mistake of writing about something I shouldn't one day and instead of just deleting that post, I deleted the entire blog. Something I've regretted ever since as many of the good things I wrote back then are forever lost to me.
Of course I started a new blog, this one that you now are familiar with.
But somewhere along the way over the past few years, my happy, funny, thoughtful writings have become fewer and fewer and farther in between posts. Somewhere along the way, my writings turned dark and moody, complaining, (whining?), full of ranting and ravings about work, in-laws, shopping, and seemingly everything else around me in my life.
What happened to the girl that wrote happy, funny things?
I know most people don't want to read about all my pent-up anger. It brings people down and who wants that? We all have enough crap in our lives bringing us down without reading about others gripes.
I'm not promising to write more happy things in the future, it's not my new years resolution. But maybe it would be best if I just didn't blog about the crap that goes on in my life. Instead, I'll just keep it bottled up inside until I implode upon myself or explode on to the poor unfortunate person that happens to be closest to me at that moment.
Who am I kidding? I don't give a Rat Sass what others think. But I would like to know what happened to the creative person I once was...

A page from an 87 yr. old horsewoman's journal...

I Ride..... I ride. That seems like such a simple statement. However as many women who ride know...it is really a complicated matter. It has to do with power and empowerment; being able to do things you might once have considered out of reach or ability. I have considered this as I shovel manure, fill water barrels in the cold rain, wait for the vet/farrier/ electrician/ hay delivery, change a tire on a horse trailer by the side of the freeway, or cool a gelding out before getting down to the business of drinking a cold drink after a long ride. The time, the money, the effort it takes to ride calls for dedication. At least, I call it dedication. Both my ex-husbands call it 'a sickness.' It's a nice sickness I've had since I was a small girl bouncing my plastic model horses and dreaming of the day I would ride a real horse. Most of the women I ride with understand that meaning of 'the sickness.' It's not a sport. It's not a hobby. It's what we do and-- in some ways-- who we are as women and human beings. I ride. I hook up my trailer and load my gelding. I haul to some nice trail head somewhere, unload, saddle up, whistle up my dog and I ride. I breathe in the air, watch the sunlight filter through the trees and savor the movement of my horse. My shoulders relax. A smile spreads across my weathered face. I pull my floppy hat down and let the real world fade into the tracks my horse leaves in the sand. Time slows. Flying insects buzz loudly, looking like fairies. My gelding flicks his ears and moves down the trail. I can smell his sweat and it is perfume to my senses. Time slows. The rhythm of his walk and the movement of the leaves become my focus. My saddle creaks and the leather rein in my hand softens with the warmth. I consider the simple statement: I ride. I think of all I do because I ride. Climb rocky slopes, wade into a lily-pad lake, race a friend across the hayfield.... all the while laughing and feeling my heart in my chest. Other days just the act of mounting and dismounting can be a real accomplishment. Still I ride, no matter how tired or how much my sitter bones or any of my other acquired horse-related injuries hurt. I ride. And I feel a lot better for doing so. I think of the people, mostly women, that I've met. I consider how competent they all are. Not a weenie in the bunch. We haul 40 ft. rigs, we back 'em up into tight spaces without clipping a tree. We set up camp, tend the horses. We cook and keep our camp neat. We understand and love our companion--, our horses. We respect each other and those we encounter on the trail. We know that if you are out there riding, you also shovel, fill, bathe, wait and doctor. Your hands are a little rough and you travel without makeup or hair gel. You do without to afford the 'sickness' and probably, when you were a small girl, you bounced a little model horse while you dreamed of riding a real one. "My treasures do not chink or glitter, They gleam in the sun and neigh in the night."


Maybe if I'm lucky, I'll be able to blog something equally as eloquent when I'm 87 years old. In the meantime, I'll just keep up with my riding lessons and volunteering at the farm and fantasizing about the life she has lead.

Christmas Memories

*When I was about 4-ish, I remember receiving a plastic set of tea-party dishes. I thought it was kinda strange that "Santa" would have given me this, as he'd given me the same thing the year before and I didn't play with the first set all that much.

*When I was 5, I received my first bicycle. No training wheels necessary, as I'd already taught myself to ride a bike, using my aunts little bike while she was at school. My bike was blue and white with a banana seat. One of the best Christmas presents, EVER!!

*When I was 11, we arrived home Christmas evening from spending the day at my grandparent's house. We had no sooner gotten the car unloaded then my mom received a phone call informing her that her b-i-l had shot her sister in the back and they didn't know if she'd live. My sister and I were hustled over to the neighbors house 'til my grandparents could come pick us up. The good news is, my aunt did live, but there forever seemed a stain on the holiday, especially since the s.o.b. got away with attempted murder.

* When I was 15, I went outside to give my much beloved dog, "Poogle", a poodle/beagle mix, her Christmas present, only to find her dead, frozen stiff in her dog house. I prefer to think that she died of natural causes in the middle of the night instead of thinking she died freezing too death.
As if this didn't sadden and depress me enough, I couldn't help getting angry at my grandfather that afternoon when he insisted upon telling me stories of dogs he'd had and lost over the years. Seriously, it was the last thing I wanted to hear about right then.

*Five years later in 1988 it was probably the best Christmas, ever! I was married, living in my own house, decorating my own tree with my new husband and making love by the twinkle of the tree lights.
**sigh**... at least I have the memories, as some traditions weren't meant to last.

*1995, this was our first Christmas with our new "child", Smokey. He was our first Great Dane, and the first dog I'd ever had as a house pet. He was 9 months old by now, and up until then, whenever we'd had to leave, we would confine him to the kitchen (this was before we discovered crate-training, and my kitchen still bears the scars of his his youth). But on this Christmas Eve, we decided to test him. We left him out, asleep on the sofa and went to the candle-light service at my in-laws church. When we returned home, Smokey had been a good boy. Nothing was destroyed and he'd had no accidents. We never confined him to the kitchen again. That Christmas was the start of him having free-range of the house. It was also the next to last year that we put up a tree, as the following year he chased the cats up the tree and pulled decorations off and would unwrap gifts not intended for him. As I said earlier, some traditions weren't meant to last. ;)

*Christmas of '96, I spent yet another Christmas getting angry with my grandfather, over something as petty as cigarette smoke. Had I known he was going to die a mere 4 weeks later and that I'd never see him again, I guess I would've sucked it up and tolerated his smoke instead of cutting our afternoon with the family short and leaving in a foul mood. I've lived with some massive shame and guilt over that one for a long time.

*Christmas of '97 or '98, we spent the night at my parents house. Smokey was included in that sleep-over. I had a bentwood rocker my parents had given me a few years prior, but I had loaned it to them/my sister when her son was born, and just hadn't taken it back yet. Smokey had his no-pull harness on even though he was in the house. Somebody rang the doorbell and he went running for the door. Well, one of the straps on his harness caught the curled piece of wood on the rocker's frame and he got frightened, took off running through the house with the rocking chair bouncing along beside him, all of us chasing him. He ran through the kitchen door, but the rocker was at such an angle that it wouldn't fit and when it hit the door frame it busted into several pieces.
Every time I watch "Christmas Vacation" and the scene with the dog running through the house destroying everything comes on, I can't help but laugh and remember Smokey's run of terror.

*It was five or six years ago that our area received a pretty big snow storm that dumped several inches of snow. A rather rare occurrence for our area, at least, at Christmas time it was. My husband's step-mother, who was manic-depressive w/alcoholic tendencies, and frequently spent the holidays in the psych-ward, had managed to delay having her break-down 'til Christmas day. It was decided my s-i-l would host Xmas at her little apartment that morning since the step-mother was in no condition to do so. It turned into an all-day event as my husband ended up driving his father downtown in the blizzard to take out an MIW (mental inquest warrant) on the step-mother, then they had to go to the house and stay with her 'til the police arrived to take her away. The woman's own children couldn't even be persuaded to go and sit with her, but finally, late in the day after they'd had their celebrations with their spouses/kids, a couple of them finally gave in and made the trek over to the house, only to get their cars hung up in the snow. One of them had to wait several days to get his truck towed out. And with the bad road conditions and all the accidents that were taking place, the police were in no hurry to get there, so it was well into the evening before she was hauled away, and I was stuck with all my other in-laws the rest of the day. I never even got to see my family that day.

*2001, while I don't have any specific memories of that Christmas Day, I do know we were anxiously awaiting the birth of our 2nd child. When I had met our breeder a couple of months prior, little did I know at that time it would lead to a long and trusted friendship and many more danes. Four days after Christmas, our little girl, Kelsey was born. Sadly, exactly 3 years after she was born, her mother (the dog that is, not me) died. It was a sad day for all of us.

*2003, sadly, we'd lost our beloved Smokey a couple of months prior, but our new son, Eliott, had been born early in December, and Christmas week was the first time we got to go see him and hold that chocolate brown little boy.

*Some holidays pass with nothing especially memorable happening.
**Some pass with traumatic events taking place that seem to forever cast a pall over the occasion.
***And then there are others that having something so great happen, that the memory lives on forever, always bringing a smile when it's remembered.
I hope all of your holidays and the memories you make fall into that third category.
Love, happiness and peace to everyone!
I hope all of yours

Pitawoman-Family Holiday Greetings

I cut waaay back on the number of holiday greetings I sent out this year (via US mail that is), for a variety of reasons, the ever increasing amount of postage being just one.
So with a couple of alterations to block out the family name, and correct the spelling of my son's name (how bad of a mother am I that I couldn't even spell that correctly???), I present to you, the Pitawoman-Family Holiday Greetings. (You may have to click on each page in order to enlarge it enough to read it).


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We wish all our friends and family, whether near, far, or in blog-land: A very Merry Christmas! Stay safe!!

luv,
Pitawoman

Christmas Music??

Jingle Bells
Sleigh Ride
Let It Snow
Frosty The Snowman

These are just a few of the songs we frequently hear being played and sing along with this time of year.
But why? I mean, why is it that they are only played around Christmas time?
These songs are about the cold weather and the snow, about having a fun, going for a ride on a sleigh.
Snowy-cold weather and having fun outside aren't just for Christmas time. Shoot, more often than not, our area doesn't even get snow at x-mas. We're more apt to see it in January or February. So why don't we hear those songs at those times?

#@#!* Bureaucrats!!!!

I'm really going to rant and rave big time, so if you don't want to hear/read it, then skip this post.

A few months ago, the office of vital statistics in our state's capitol, had some remodeling work done. The counter behind which the employees worked now had bullet-proof/shatter-resistant glass installed and a small opening at the bottom of the window by which you could slide your paperwork and money to them. I thought it was a strange change to make to this office, but didn't give it much thought.
This past Friday, I had to make a trip to that office to have several death certificates (a.k.a. d/c's) certified and filed with the state.
I now understand why that bullet-proof/shatter-resistant glass was installed. I think had the little 4-eyed geek behind the counter not had the safety of that glass between us, I'd have choked the shit out of him.
Here's the situation... I had 3 d/c's to be filed. One of them, I noticed had an error on it before I even left my office, so I filled out a correction form and paper-clipped them together, so that Frankfort could make the correction at that time, instead of me getting all the way back to my office and then filing the correction. Basically, I was trying to save time for everyone involved. Not to mention, paper, postage and mileage.
When geek called my name to let me know my certificates were ready for pick-up, I went to the window and he passed a large envelope to me with the 2 that had been certified, and a letter informing that the one that needed correction could not be filed as submitted. They didn't even return my copy to me, instead destroying it. That means I now have to start from scratch and submit a whole new d/c to the doctor to sign. I just looked at him and asked, "why couldn't you accept it?"
Geek: Because you submitted it to us knowing that there was a mistake on it.
Me: But I've done it before and you've accepted them.
Geek: No we haven't.
Me: Yes. You have.
Geek: No. We Haven't.
Me: (you know where this conversation is going) **SIGH** YES, You HAVE!!
Geek: Well, if we did, it was a mistake. We aren't supposed to. We have a format we are supposed to follow.
This is as close to an admission as I was going to get that they did on occasion accept them.
But as though all this weren't annoying enough, here is what really from the depths of my soul pissed me off...
If I had just turned the d/c in with the mistake on it, waited for him to hand me the certified copy, then gone back to the end of the line and handed it back to him with the correction-form, then they would have accepted it and made the corrections.
Now does that make one ounce of sense to you????
F***ing bureaucrats!!!!!
Needless to say, I seethed for the hour-long drive back to my office.
But wait, our gov't. wasn't done pissing me off yet today, but allow me to back up a couple of days to lay out this situation.
On Wednesday, I had finished printing out the thank-you letters to the businesses around town that had donated door-prizes to our ministers' breakfast. The letters were printed, address labels printed, letters folded and stuffed into envelopes, envelopes sealed, and postage applied. Just before taking them to the post office, a co-worker came in and informed me that one of the pocket-calendars we gave out at the breakfast, was s'posed to have been sent out to each of the donors as well. This was news to me. But I opened each envelope carefully, stuffed a calendar into each, re-sealed them, then weighed them on the postage scale and added the extra postage, that is, until I ran out. I stopped at the post office on the way home, purchased extra stamps and then sat out in the parking lot applying the stamps, then held up the drive-thru line as I dumped these things three at a time into the letter-box. Finally, I was done. Or so I thought.
Friday morning the mail lady arrives carrying this big box of mail for us. It contained all the thank you's I'd mailed 2 days before. There was an official sticker from the post office on the first envelope informing me that because of the thickness of them, they would require an additional .44-cents. Friggin' great! While I went to Frankfort, the boss applied the extra postage.
When I arrived back at the office, already in a bad mood over the d/c situation, I gathered up the box of thank yous and a couple of items I needed to send as certified mail and trekked to the post office. The guy behind the counter asked, "are you sending a bulk mailing?"
Me: No, these already have postage on them.
Him: Well, let's just check and see that it's the correct amount.
Me: (Rolling my eyes, because surely go goodness they were correct by now, just stood there and waited for him to say, "ok")
Him: This needs another .17-cents on it.
Me: Can't be.
Him: Let me check the next one.
Me: They are all identical in content, they are all identical in what they have on them (postage-wise).
Him: Yep, this one needs the extra postage too.
Me: But y'all already sent them back and said it only needed .44-cents.
Him: Well, if I send it through as a "blah-blah", then it needs $1.56 on it, but if I send it through as a "blah-blah-blah", then it needs a $1.90.
Me: Are you freaking kidding me? Seriously, you all sent them back and said it just needed .44-cents.
Him: Sorry.
Okay, by now I really did want to kill someone.
Needless to say, I've had all I can stand of our fine gov't-employees.
Grrrrr!

Toby's Round-Up

This video isn't the greatest of quality and the lighting is poor, but I still think you can see it.

Occasionally when I arrive for my riding lessons (never on Tuesdays though), a bunch of the horses are milling about out in the covered arena where they've been turned out to stretch their legs and socialize with one another for a few hours. When it's dinner time, the stall doors are opened, then one brave soul opens the gate while everybody else stands back because the stampede is on.

Toby the stable-dog does his part to herd the horses along as quickly possible. In all honesty, I don't know how he keeps from getting kicked upside his head. I guess if it ever happens, it will only happen once.

Anyway... Perhaps I should've been standing on the mounting block so I could film from a higher angle. This wasn't the best I've ever seen the horses do about running in and each automatically going to his/her correct stall. Last evening, they seemed more interested in milling around, but it's still fun to watch them.

The orangish light at the far end of the arena is actually the opening between two stalls, to a narrow passage way that leads to more stalls in the back. It always amazes me how some of the horses come running in and go dashing through the dark and narrow opening to get to their stalls.

Random stuff

**Follow up to the Ethics & Compliance email I fired off to my husband's employer for shorting him a day's pay... So far, he's still employed there, so that's a good thing. I finally received an email from them acknowledging that they'd received my complaint. They responded with this: Thank you for your email. If it is okay with you, I would like to forward your complaint to our HeRe team for investigation, as this is the standard way we investigate claims such as yours. Please let me know what you think. I told them to go right ahead. I don't know if my husband will ever get that day of pay he has coming to him, but maybe the company will change it's policy regarding holiday pay in the future. Will let you know if anything comes about.

**There is a commercial that I see umpteen times a day, all times of day, on just about every channel I ever watch, and it annoys me to no end. It's for Jared's, who proclaims to be "the Galleria of Jewelry". This has been going on for a couple of years now and I'm so sick of it. I absolutely HATE their commercials! I keep asking friends and family where this store is even located and none of them have ever heard of it, aside from the tv ads. I finally went on-line and looked. Apparently it's a big national chain of jewelers (makes me want to avoid them because of that alone), but there are two in the state of Kentucky, one near Cincinnati, the other one outside of Lexington. There are a bazillion jewelers in the Louisville area, some large chain-stores such as Jareds, others are family-owned. So I wonder how many people are traveling to Cinci or Lex. to buy their jewelry?

**A sign of the times! I can remember a time in our lives when you NEVER heard the word "penis" uttered on television, unless it was some kind of rated-R (or X?) movie shown on late-night tv, and even then only on things such as Showtime, HBO, etc. Even those infomercials that try to get you to purchase a supplement such as Extenz (or whatever it's called) are at least tactful enough to say "a certain male part". So imagine my surprise when a commercial came on the tv last evening asking the question: how long do you have once a penis has been severed, to get it re-attached? OMG! Don't get me wrong, I'm not a prude, but honestly, do we need this kind of stuff in our advertisement? If they were going for shock-value, they achieved it!

**Lazy & Stupid people...
Four months ago, I received a refund check from the doctor for $8.78. A day or so later I received a bill from the same doctor for $5.44. I held on to both and at my next appointment a few days later, I took both with me and asked if I couldn't just give them the check back and have it applied to the balance (thus giving me a credit on the account). The receptionist took the check and said it would be no problem.
Last week, I received two invoices from that doctor, one for my treatment which was for approx. $39 and the other invoice for John which showed $5.44 past-due and was going to be turned over to collections. I called on Friday and told the girl about returning the check to them. She said she'd call me back by Tuesday. Yesterday (Thurs) I called her back as I hadn't heard anything. Apparently the receptionist had given the check to the book keeper without explanantion. The bk just set it aside, figuring somebody would eventually tell her what was going on with it.
Now I ask you, wouldn't you think in 4 months time, this bk would've either asked the receptionist about the check or else looked up the check # and seen who it was issued to and called us about it?
There are truly some lazy and stupid people in this world!

Why I hate the holidays... ALL holidays.

Dear In-Laws (and no, this doesn't apply to ALL of my husband's family, just a certain few),
**For those of you that live locally: You spend more time with my husband than I do during his waking hours. If he's not at work, then he is typically spending it with you. By the time he gets home in the evenings and eats dinner, he's exhausted and falls asleep, and I really don't have much quality time with your brother. And for that matter, even when he's at home with me, he's constantly receiving phone calls from you and his other relatives. This world is not going to come to an end if you don't talk to him several times a day, nor will it end if you happen to go a whole week without seeing him, much less 2 whole days. For that matter, I resent you calling us when we're on vacation, just to see if we're having a good time or ask what we're doing. Please try to limit those vacation phone calls to emergency-calls, such as: someone has died, or, a family member is critically ill and in the hospital. Otherwise, conversations can hold off 'til we return from vacation. When have we ever bothered you when you were on vacation?
I would like to remind you, that you had him to yourself for the first 28+ years of his life, I've only had him for the past 21, and I'm still having to share him with you. I am after all, his wife, and I think that should entitle me to some private time with him, besides when we're in bed. Even then, you often call, so our bed time isn't even that private.
Also, I would like to point out that he drives a semi-truck for a living. Maybe it's not as dangerous as being an explosives-handler, but driving such a large vehicle is not without it's risks and he needs to be able to focus on his job. Unlike some of us, he doesn't have the luxury of "down-time" at work where he's free to do "whatever". He has to keep moving, keep working. Therefore, the numerous phone calls you make to him each day, wanting updates on where he's at and when he'll be getting off work and whether or not he's going to come visit you after work are beyond ridiculous. Perhaps you could just allow him to call you once he's off the clock... if he so chooses. Believe it or not, I often don't see/speak to him from the time he leaves the house in the morning 'til the moment he/I walk in the door in the evening. It is possible to get through the day without constantly checking in.
You put so much pressure on him to spend every available moment with you that he feels he has to lie to his family about where he is, what he's doing, or what he's got planned. You have no idea how often I've born witness to these fibs, all because he doesn't want to hurt your feelings or want to listen to any of you lay a guilt-trip on him for wanting some time to himself, or wanting to spend time with his other family... that would be me.
And as for the holidays... well, I'm getting really f***ing tired of you complaining because we spend most holidays with my side of the family. Holidays and special occasions are typically the only time my husband & I see my side of family vs. you who gets to see my husband several times a week and dine-out with him a minimum of twice per week. And how many times in the past has my family sacrificed celebrating Christmas or Thanksgiving on the given day, in order to free us up so that we might spend it with you, and have you ever once said "thanks" or seemed to appreciated it? No. We spend every Christmas-Eve with you, and yet that doesn't seem to be enough, you pitch a fit if we don't spend Christmas Day with you as well. Why do you think this world should revolve around you??
In short order, quit yer bitchin'!

**For those of who live a little further away: I know you don't get to see your son/brother as often as you like, but you were the ones who made the decision to move far away from the family's core. Nobody twisted your arms to do so. There are plenty of places you could live that would be within a 30 minute drive that would make it much more feasible for him to visit more often and vice-versa. As it is, the 90 minute drive seems to take forever, especially to a man that spends his entire workday driving up and down the roads. The last thing he wants to do when he has some time off is get in the car and drive. He feels he no sooner gets there than it's time to leave. When he comes to visit he wants to spend some quality time with you, which brings me to my next point. How many times in the past few years, has he given up whole weeks of his vacation to come and spend with you? Several! And still you complain that you hardly ever get to spend time with him. If you had your way, he'd live with you and commute to his job, despite that being unreasonable.
The nasty comment you made recently while trying to lay another guilt trip on him, "Well, her parents will probably outlive your father or myself" was totally uncalled for. Maybe statistically they will, but tomorrow is promised to no one. May I remind you that if you hadn't kicked us out of your house a few years ago in a fit of anger, or if you hadn't tried fixing my husband up with another woman despite being married to me, then perhaps there wouldn't be so many hard feelings on my part, and I'd be more willing to make an effort for us all to be together. As it is, I usually have to encourage your son/brother to go and visit you (without me, of course) when he has some time off, despite the fact that there are things he could be doing around our home that go on neglected, simply because he's trying to make too many people happy, instead of doing what truly makes him happy.
And again, you have no idea how often I've had to bear witness to him fibbing to you about his schedule or his plans, just to prevent hurting your feelings or to avoid confrontation.

None of you, near or far, have any idea how sad my husband often is because he's being pulled in so many directions and is having so many guilt trips laid on him. Yes, I suppose I'm guilty too, but as I said, I am his wife and that should entitle me to a greater amount of his time other than when he's asleep. I am sick to death of you people treating him like your slave to run your errands and perform all your heavy chores for you, of treating him like he's a Hollywood star to be shown off to your friends and kept around to entertain everyone at your parties.
And one last thing, this world isn't going to come to an end if presents aren't exchanged at every birthday, parents-day or Christmas. There have been numerous occasions over the years where my family hasn't exchanged, or even spent time with one another on those days either because of our schedules or because of YOUR side of the family, and ya know what? The earth has kept on spinning, the sun continues to rise and set, and none of us have keeled over from not receiving a present or visit or phone call. Life is not about presents, who can send the best or most expensive. Presents should be given because you want to give them, not because you have to or are expected to. Hell, there have been numerous times over the years that by the time we've bought for all of you and paid to ship them (because heaven knows you all EXPECT gifts, we've had no money left to buy something for each other or for others near/dear to us that we've wanted to give to.
And ya know what else? You never, ever, once, let me celebrate his birthday with him, alone. You never ask if I have any special plans made for just the two of us. Instead, you plan big family gatherings without consulting me. And you certainly never ask your son/brother what he wants to do for his birthday. Everybody has to do what you want or else suffer the consequences later on. This isn't how families should behave.
So stop being all dramatic and just accept that your son/brother is a grown man, with a wife, and is capable of making his own decisions (with my help of course).
Signed,
Your disgruntled sister/daughter-in-law

Making new friends

It's quickly becoming a "tradition" if you will, for the husband and I to go to Moe's Southwest Grille every Monday evening for dinner, before going to the grocery. It's Moe-Mondays which means any burrito and regular drink for $5. Considering how monstrous their homewrecker-burrito is, and extremely filling, it's the bargain of the day.
If you've never been to Moe's (or at least, the Moe's by our house), it's not a very big place, not a whole lot of seating. Perhaps a half dozen boothes that will seat 4, and then a couple of dozen tables-for-two, most of them pushed together to seat 6. Mondays at Moe's is very popular, and not just with us. It's always packed! If we don't get there by 5:15, it can be near impossible to find a place to sit.
It has become our custom to grab one of the tables and separate them into three separate tables, at least a few inches apart. That way, others don't feel intimidated to sit down and share space with you. It would be nice if some other people were as considerate. It's not uncommon to see a single person tying up space for 6.
Anyway, it seems to also becoming a tradition to meet some of our neighbors there on Monday. For the past two weeks, we've met the same couple. As seating is so tight, you often end up sharing a table with complete strangers, as was the case last night.
The (strangers)couple at the table next to us had a little boy named Landon. Landon quickly became John & Tony's best friend. I think he wanted to sit in their laps. Don't get me wrong, he wasn't a wild-child or behaving badly, he was actually very cute. I'm not sure, but he might have had a very mild case of Downs Syndrome, it was hard to tell as it can sometimes be when they are that young. John was thinking the same thing.
A few weeks ago, we found ourselves dining with an Asian family of four. Very nice people, very friendly.
Moe's can be quite cramped at times and you'd think this would test peoples patience. But if nothing else, it seems to be a good place for meeting/making friends, however briefly they are in our lives, and everyone seems to enjoy themselves while they are there.

Speaking my mind

My husband may not have a job after today, but that was chance I was willing to take, I just had to speak my mind.
Some of you may recall that John developed kidney stones the day before Thanksgiving and spent several hours in the ER that evening. The doctor put him on on two heavy medications that kept him loopy and told him not to return to work until Saturday at the soonest.
He wanted to return to work on Friday, despite what the doctor had told him, and I had to strongly remind him that he was in no condition to work and could get in all kinds of trouble if he did go in while under the influence of that medicine, so common sense finally set in and he took that Friday off, using a sick day.
My husband isn't one to abuse his sick days, unlike some of his fellow co-workers.
It is his company's policy that they only pay holiday pay if the employee works the day before AND after said holiday. And I can somewhat understand this, because there are those that will abuse their sick days and try to extend their holiday time off.
But seriously, when a person is under a doctors care, has a note from the doctor to prove it, shouldn't they be cut some slack?
My husband returned to work the next day and took the doctors note to his supervisor who told him he didn't need to show proof of why he'd been off.
Now it would've been easy for him to just go on and take that as a sick day too. I guarantee you most of his co-workers would have as the next day he was starting his vacation. But John isn't that type of person. He's hard working, conscientious, and loves his job.
And for all that, what does his company do?
They docked him a days pay.
They refused to pay him for that holiday.
John approached his supervisor AND the girl in human resources. both basically said, "sorry about your luck".
Needless to say, I was pissed!!
When I arrived home that evening and was looking through the mail, there was a letter his company had sent out to all employees regarding the hot-line for Ethics and Compliance. There was also an email address.
Gee, what amazing timing!
I'm sure by now you know where this blog is going.
Yes, I fired off an email to their Ethics and Compliance office, telling them they needed to exam their own e&c treatment towards their employees.
I refrained from using profanity or naming-names, despite my overwhelming urge. I did however sign my name, so I'm sure it won't be hard for them to figure out who my husband is.
So we may soon be living out of a cardboard box.
Some would say I should've left well enough alone. But dammit! What gives these companies the right to walk all over their employees and get away with it?

Weekend in review

*Saturday was the last of the 5k or charitable walking events for Olivia and I, for the next couple of months anyway. We participated in the 2-mile walk in Buckner, the entry fee was $5 or a new toy, which was for the Teddy Bear Tree Program.
Last year, there were only 4 participants. Others had sent in donations, but only 4 of us walked.
This year, the group had grown to about 20 walkers. The program's director was happy with the turn-out and said he might have to reconsider things as the program was on the chopping-block for next year. I hope not, as I think it's a good program, just not very well advertised. I think if I'm still at this job this time next year, I'm going to see if I can't help them advertise and get my employer to sponsor the refreshments, perhaps grow the participation.
Liv wasn't the only dog this year, two others turned out. A little J.R. that was terrified of it's own shadow, 'cept when it worked up the nerve to hump the leg of the other dog present. I guess Olivia was too tall for it to attempt humping. ;)

*Saturday afternoon, I ventured across the river to the small town I grew up in. More specifically, the subdivision I grew up in. Our former next-door-neighbors were hosting their annual IU-UK basketball game party, and while I could care less which team wins, it's a chance for me to visit with old family friends that are more family than friend.
The husband/wife were like a second set of parents when I was growing up. Their three children I watched whenever they needed me... the older two from the time they were toddlers and the youngest from the time she was born. I mother-henned them too death, and almost felt like they were my own. When I moved away and got married, I very rarely ever got to see the kids, and only seeing the parents once in a great while. All three are grown now, married with families of their own. So it was a rare treat that I got to see the entire family on Saturday, and some of the grandkids.
I know I'm getting older, and am pushing 42, but my knees nearly buckled when I heard the eldest daughter saying to someone how she was 35 years old. Thirty-Five?! Holy crap!!! Even though I could visibly see she was no longer a child, a part of my mind still remembers the youngster I used to watch over. Thirty-Five? Geesh, that means I must be... getting old!!! Her own daughter will be 17 soon, and this really depresses me. **sigh**
I did discover that the eldest daughter now has a home-based business she's trying to grow. She's very talented at sewing and crocheting, and can barely keep up with the orders that are coming in. She's working at getting a website set-up, as soon as she does, I'll be sure to include a link on my blog as I think her items are fabulous!

*Sunday was a rainy, gray, crappy weather day. Even though the rain eventually stopped, it was so nasty wet and muddy out, it was depressing. Walking through the pastures at the farm was treacherous and my feet kept slipping and sliding.
I'm hoping next Sunday the weather isn't too wet or sloppy as I have some new ideas I want to try out on a couple of the horses I've been clicker training. Admittedly, I haven't done much with the training in the past several weeks, usually because I've had a lack of spare time.

*I've got all my Christmas shopping done now except for two people I'm struggling with. Most of the stuff I bought was on-line though, so let's just hope it all gets delivered to me before xmas so I can get it wrapped.

Feel Good Story

It's not uncommon for me to be in the midst of reading more than one book at a time. I often keep one at work for slow days, sometimes one in the car, one on my nightstand, and then another lying somewhere around the house. It's a wonder I can keep my story-lines straight!
The last thing I needed was to start another book at this time. So why did I venture down the book aisle while I was at Meijers the other night? I don't know!! But I did.
I usually tend to gravitate towards the same authors, looking for new releases, but I wasn't seeing any on the shelves and was just lackadaisically letting my eyes drift past the covers as I made to leave the area, when one book in particular caught my eye. On the cover was the picture of a horse, mouth wide open. On the horse's back was a young boy, left arm stretched towards the sky and a man (presumably his father) sat behind him, one arm wrapped around the child's midsection.
The title of the book is "The Horse Boy".
I picked it up and read the inside cover of the dust-jacket. By the 2nd paragraph, I was nearly moved to tears. Oh, well, there was no question, I simply HAD to read the book. All my other books have been pushed aside for now.
I'm right at the 1/2 way point and have had a hard time putting it down.
I went online today and did some youtube searching and googling of the author, the story, the foundation and the equestrian riding facility he started.
It's a neat story and I highly recommend it to anyone looking for a feel-good story.

Guilty confessions

I probably shouldn't even admit this, but here goes.
In the past few weeks, I've become a big fan of the UFC (not to be confused with UFO).
UFC being Ultimate Fighting Championship.
Now I'm not hard-core, at least, not yet anyway. I'm still learning the rules, the major players, the names of the different holds, punches and kicks.
I don't rush to turn the tv on so as not to miss a single episode, but if there's nothing else on the tube, and if I'm channel surfing and come across it (usually on Spike TV), then I stop and watch.

"How did this all come about?" you're probably asking. Truthfully, I'm still asking that of myself.
Waaay back when I was a little kid, I used to love watching wrestling on our local NBC affiliate, every Saturday afternoon. Listening to Lance Russell & Dave Brown call the fights as the likes of Jerry "the King" Lawler, "Superstar" Bill Dundee, Leapin' Lanny Poffo(sp?) and others learned the ropes (pun intended) in the squared-circle.
When I was in jr. high, the sport suddenly took off and it was all the rage. The WWF and WCW filled the airwaves and even when John & I were first married, we'd rush home and turn the tv on to catch the fights. Or more precisely, the drama. Yeah, when I was little, it all seemed real, but as I got older, I realized it was all staged, but I didn't care. I drooled over Hulk Hogan as he reminded me of an old family friend I used to have a major crush on.
Eventually, the theatrics became too ridiculous and I lost interest in the sport.
I also used to enjoy a good boxing match, back in the day. I think the fight I'll remember most is when Sugar Ray Leonard came out of retirement, then quickly retired again.

Fast-forward many, many years to 2009...
In the past year, year & a half, I've become addicted to Dancing With The Stars. If any of you follow this show and watched it this last season, then you saw UFC champion, Chuck Liddel, as one of the dance competitors. Now honestly, I had not the foggiest notion who this guy was before the season started, even when it was announced he was a UFC fighter, I was still clueless. My husband saw him one night and tried telling me. Still didn't comprehend.
Then, about a month ago, I was flipping through the channels and honestly, Spike TV isn't a channel we very often watch, but as I surfed past it, I saw men beating the crap out of each other and Chuck's name was mentioned. I stopped to watch and see just what exactly it was this man did for a living. I was instantly horrified and yet enthralled at the same time. I was hooked!
Don't get me wrong, I don't get off watching grown men beat the crap out of each other.
I can, however, appreciate the way some of the competitors can maneuver themselves out of a hold and/or regain their footing after being knocked/pinned to the ground.
More than anything, I'm just constantly amazed at the abuse these men can take and still manage to walk away. Yes, I'm also grossed out at the huge, red lumps many sport on their skulls after being pummeled, and I've no doubt many are walking around with concussions half the time.
I don't understand why these men purposely put their bodies through the abuse. Sure, maybe the money and fame is all good now, but how about in 10 or 20 years when they'll be crippled, brain damaged, or worse? Will it have been worth it then?
I don't do pay-per-view or ever attend these matches (never did wrestling or boxing either), but I guess I'll continue to watch on Spike.

My 2cents worth

I'm sure most of you are as sick to death as I am over all the news headlines revolving around Tiger Woods.
When will it ever end? Probably not 'til the next superstar athlete or politician gets caught cheating, which given the state of things in our society, it shouldn't take too long.
I just had to put my two cents worth in on the situation.

I think it's a shame that he and his wife can't be left alone to work out their problems, whether to reconcile or go their separate ways. But when has the media ever left anybody with a celebrity status alone to solve their own problems? Never.

I have to wonder how many of the women that have come forward claiming to have been his lover are genuine? I'm willing to bet more than a few were from before he was engaged/married and therefore shouldn't even be given the time of day on this matter. And I'm also willing to bet that a few are making false accusations, simply to get their 15-minutes of fame in hopes that even if/when they are proven false, by then they'll have gotten their little leap into the world of infamy.

I especially have to wonder if Tiger's father is spinning in his grave. I don't really know much about the man, for all I know, he was a womanizer and perhaps that's where Tiger learned to treat women like playthings, simply for his amusement and to disregard the fact he had a beautiful wife (not to mention mother of his children) at home. Regardless of the example his father set for him, I do know his father spent his life working, teaching, pursuing greatness for his son, helping to create an image and roll-model that everyone could admire and look up to (until now). And now, to have it all come crashing down because he couldn't keep it in his pants?
What a waste!!

The Company Website

As I logged into our company's website today, something on the "hot topics" section caught my eye.
Now seriously, I never read any of the crap my company posts on their website, I simply go to it because there are certain links/tabs I have to use in order to perform certain functions of my job. But as I said, something caught my eye, so I stopped to read it.
It was announcing that the employees could order Honey Baked Hams & turkeys via our company store (on-line link) and enter a certain access code. I'm assuming this will give us a nice discount over the usual rate HBH charges, but it didn't say what kind of price we'd have to pay. Best of all, the hams/turkeys would be delivered, we wouldn't have to fight holiday traffic and crowds going to pick it up.
Oh, one little catch, all hams/turkeys were being delivered to our corporate office... in HOUSTON TEXAS!!
Um, hello, how does this do me or any of the employees in the other 49 states and Canada, Puerto Rico and elsewhere any good?
Of all the stupid things!!!

Vacation high's and low's

PROLOGUE:
The final vacation of the year has now come and gone. It was an extended vacation for me, as I started mine when I left work on the evening of Wednesday, Nov. 25th.
Things started off normally enough. The only definite plans we had made at that point were to go to my parents for Thanksgiving dinner, for me to do some shopping super-early on black-friday, I was to house/dog-sit for a friend that first weekend, and to participate in 3 5k-events. We were hoping to possibly sneak away for a couple of days mid-week to wherever the winds of fate would take us, but we had no particular place in mind.
My how things can change in an instant!



Chapter 1: "The Start of a Very Long Vacation"

John had to work late that evening, having run 4 routes that day. He'd been up since 2:30 that morning and it was around 5:30 when he finally called to tell me he was on his way home. He was extremely tired and told me he thought he might've pulled a muscle in his groin as he was in some pain. I had dinner ready when he walked in the door around 6pm, dropped his belongings in the hallway floor and made a mad dash to the bathroom. When he didn't emerge a few minutes later, I went to check on him and he told me he'd had to stop twice on the way home and throw up and that he didn't feel good. I went back and finished my dinner. Several more minutes had passed and still no sign of John. I went to check on him again and found him slumped up against the bathroom wall while sitting on the toilet. I could only get the door open a few inches and was growing concerned, if I'd needed to call EMS, I don't know how they'd have gotten into the bathroom as his legs were blocking the door from opening any further. Usually, if he falls asleep on the toilet (and yes, he does do that), his elbows are resting on his knees and his head is nodded forward. Seeing him slumped against the wall was scary, this wasn't a sleeping position. I told him he needed to get up and I'd take him to the emergency room. He sat up-right and protested. I knew by now he wouldn't be eating dinner, so I went to put the left-overs away then went back to check on him again. Now he was throwing up again. Again I insisted he needed to go to the E.R. So now he calls his brother, the doctor that lives 90 miles away and describes his symptoms to him. His brother suggested it might could be his appendix or a gall-bladder attack and he needed to get to the E.R.
Now my husband was willing to go to the hospital since his brother suggested it. I suggest it, I'm over-reacting. His brother suggests it, and it's the gospel. I wanted to choke him!!
We went to the new hospital which is less than a mile from our house, and figuratively speaking, across the street from us. It was around 6:30 when we arrived at the E.R., and I have to admit, I don't think I've seen him this miserable, even when he had his surgeries on his feet or knees. He was bent over double, writhing in pain, rolling around on the gurney, and throwing up. We were fortunate that there was no waiting in the E.R. John sat down, and I hadn't even gotten my butt lowered into the seat next to him when they called him back. Despite the quick admission to the hospital, it was going to be a long night.


Chapter 2: "His Pregnancy Test & What He Was About To Give Birth To"
The nurses were all very nice as they hustled and bustled about, trying to make him comfortable and get him situated. His main nurse, I think her name was Sarah, entered info in the computer after having him pee in a cup and drawing several vials of blood, and requested the lab to run a variety of tests on his "contributions". I was doing my best to get comfortable in what can only be described as the world's most UN-comfortable furniture and he was being given heavy pain medications thru an IV, so he wouldn't feel any discomfort. At one point while Sarah was fussing over him, the lab called her on her cell phone and asked if she was sure that they needed to perform a pregnancy test on John.
Now I'll admit, my husband is sporting some extra pounds in his belly, but pregnant? Gimme a break!!
Sarah laughed and told them to disregard as she'd clicked on that test by mistake. I was relieved that someone in the lab was diligent enough to call and ask before doing so.
John was taken to have a cat-scan and upon his return, the nurse told us the doctor should be in shortly with the results, although they suspected he might have kidney stones.
I was on the phone off and on with my family to inform them we might not make it to Thanksgiving dinner, with John's doctor-brother who wanted to be kept informed of the situation, his mother who wanted to know how her baby boy was doing, and his sister so she could inform their father the next day when she saw him (he's too hard of hearing for me to yell at on the phone in the hospital). And during all these phone calls, if I heard it once I heard it a half-dozen times, kidney stones for men is the equivilant to a woman giving birth.
Over the next 4 or 5 hours, the doctor was in a couple of different times, asking him questions and pushing on his abdomen and man-parts, but still hadn't told us the test results. After one of these visits when she'd poked around his privates, John said to me, "I guess I should've worn better underwear to the hospital." I looked at him and he showed me his holiest of holy underwear. And I thought of the three packages of brand new mens underwear lying on my dresser that he refuses to wear because they are either white (which he hates) or he doesn't like the cut of the briefs. He'd rather wear holey briefs than break down and wear brand new white ones. I just rolled my eyes!!!
By the time 11pm was rolling around, my back was in complete agony and it was all I could do to stay awake, I was ready to go into the next room and climb onto the gurney and have them admit me as a patient. Finally the doctor stuck her head in again, I mean literally, just stuck her head in the door and was going to just keep walking past, when I asked her, "so when do you think you'll have these test results back and know what's wrong with him?"
She just looks at me and goes, "oh, didn't I already tell you?"
Needless to say, I felt my blood pressure starting to rise. "Nooo, you didn't."
Now she walked completely into the room and informed us he had a kidney stone that was 3 to 5 millimeters in size. Stones that size, they tend to let the patient try and pass it on their own. 7mm and up, they'll remove. So congratulations John, you'll be giving birth soon to a tiny little pebble.
The doctor said, and I quote: "We're going to send you home with some medicine for the nausea and for the pain..." also with a strainer to pee through, and instructions to go see a urologist.
When the nurse came back with the discharge papers she handed me a couple of prescriptions for medicine, not the actual medicine. It was after 11 o'clock at night, I just looked at the woman and about went off. "Where do you think I'm going to get these filled at this time of night?!" She said she'd get me the names of some 24-hour pharmacies and left the room and I just looked at John and almost started to cry. I was freaking exhausted!! If we didn't live across the street from the hospital, I wouldn't even attempt to drive home. When the nurse came back, she handed me a list of Walgreens, the nearest one was in Middletown, probably 15 miles away. There was no freaking way I could drive there, wait on the rx to be filled, then make it back home, No Way!!!
I looked at what the prescriptions were for and was relieved to see they were both for meds we already had at home, so at least I knew I could get him through the night and then get them filled in the next day or so.
We finally made it home and I fell into bed at 11:30. I think I was asleep before my head even hit the pillow.



Chapter 3: "Thanksgiving Day"
I'd already sent in my registration papers and payment for the Turkey-Day Family Fun Run to be held at the local YMCA. If I hadn't already pre-paid, I'd have skipped it and attempted to sleep in, but as it was, I set my alarm to get up at 5:30 so I could feed the dogs and get ready to go. This meant, if I was lucky, I'd get 6 hours of sleep.
But luck is for suckers and (good)luck is something I've never had. I was awakened at 12-something in the morning by the sounds of one of the cats coughing up a fur-ball next to the bed. I didn't care enough to get up and investigate and went back to sleep.
At approx. 2:30, I was again awakened by a crashing-splashing sound. I came straight up out of the bed and stumbled through the dark towards the bedroom door, thinking Olivia might be having a seizure. But just before reaching the door, I discovered the source of the noise as I stepped in an icy puddle on the carpet. My husband had taken a large plastic cup of water to bed and sat it on his night stand. The cup he'd originally started to use, I'd nixed as it had no lid and he grabbed the tall Coke-shaped cup w/the lid. I thought one of the jumbo mugs would've been better as they're heavier and the Coke-shaped mug has a small base and wide mouth. But, I was tired of arguing and gave in. Now I was wishing I'd taken the time to argue my point. John's arm had flung out in his sleep and knocked the cup over, sending the ice-water all over the floor. Of course, he just apologized and made no move to clean it up so I was left to the task.
Back in bed I again fell quickly asleep, only to once again be woken up at 4-ish by the dogs. They were used to going out by this time, despite having gone out at 11-ish, and they stick to their routine, regardless of the circumstances. So in zombie-mode, I took them all out, then went back to bed in time for the alarm to go off a short time later.
So much for a good nights rest!
So far, I wasn't having much to be thankful for on this Thanksgiving day.
Livvie and I arrived at the YMCA and I was simply amazed at the number of people that participated, several hundred, all ready to get out there and work up an appetite for the big meal later that day. I barely remember the walk, and couldn't tell you where the route took us, as I think I was walking in my sleep.
After I took her back home, I looked in the phone book for the nearest pharmacy that was open. All I could find was a Rite-Aid about 4 miles away. I went, the pharmacist filled, I told him I thought it sucked he had to work on that day, but I gave him my deepest thanks for being doing so.
When I had looked in the phone book, I discovered that several of the Rite-Aids and some other pharmacies around town were also 24-hour stores, and now I was rather pissed at the hospital for only giving us the names of Walgreens. I guess they are in cahoots together. What a crock!!
I showered, dressed and got ready to go to my parents. I applied styling gel to my hair and as I went to put the bottle back on the shelf, it tipped over and knocked the other 11 bottles, jars and tubes of health & beauty items onto the floor. The only good thing about this is that they were all plastic which means none broke and all the lids were on tight, so nothing spilled.
The rest of the day went smoothly. I fixed two pumpkin pies to take to my parents and a big pot of green beans. We arrived and John & I both promptly passed out on the couch. Sorry I wasn't much help in the kitchen! As is typical, despite having told my mother what I was bringing, she too had fixed pumpkin pies. I don't know why I ever bother!!
I was s'posed to go out to my friends house that night and house sit for a few days, but I was so exhausted (still!!), that I called and begged-off, telling her I'd be there in the morning instead. I was in bed by 6:30 pm and slept until 3:30am when I'd set my alarm to get up and go shopping.


Chapter 4: "Black Friday"

After looking at the ads on Thursday, I hadn't seen much I was impressed with that I wanted to buy, other than perhaps a few dvd titles that were on sale. I arrived at Walmart at 4:45 and could not find a single space in their massive parking lot that was open, and I had to park at a nearby Burger King and walk what seemed like a half-mile in the very frigid cold to get there. I got in the store just as they were beginning the big sale. The fire department stuck it's nose into the way things were done and now instead of the chaos of grab-and-go that we experienced in past years, you had to stand in line and be handed a ticket and then snake your way through the store to get to the item(s) you wanted. Many of the aisles were blocked off completely and if there were any grocery items you wanted (such as I did), you were s.o.l.!! By the time I found the videos that were on sale and on display in the produce section (why there???), they'd been very muched picked over and I didn't get either of the titles I'd been hoping for.
Normally, when I shop Walmart on B.F. in the past, I spend a surprisingly minimal amount of time in line waiting to check out. Not so this time. I stood in line for over an hour. Needless to say, this black-friday wasn't the fun shopping time I remembered from past years. Boo on Walmart and Boo on the fire department!!!
I went back home, picked up John and he accompanied to my friends house while I cared for her dogs. Even though John has been there before, he doesn't go nearly as often as I, and all the dogs seemed terrified of him. I had to insist he go in the house, as even my best buddy, Sara, wouldn't approach me while he was standing there.
John was feeling better by now, and hadn't taken any meds since Thursday night. He still hadn't given "birth" to the kidney stone, but decided he'd go back to work on Saturday so it wouldn't look suspicious, taking all that time off right before vacation.
He stayed home that afternoon while Olivia and I drove to downtown Louisville and searched for a place to park amongst all the closed streets. City workers were preparing for the Light-Up-Louisville festival that evening, a parade that was to start at 6pm, and the 5k which started at 3pm. I finally found a place on the street and kept feeding change into the parking meter. Every 20 minutes or so I'd go back and feed it some more change until there was enough time built up I felt we could finish the 5k and get out of town before things really got crazy.
We saw a few familiar faces from past events, and ran into a girl I know, 'though not that well. I made the mistake of asking how her husband was doing, but had no sooner asked the question than I remembered they had divorced a few years ago. I'm such a bone-head sometimes!! We talked for quite a while. She ran in the middle of the running pack, I walked in the middle of the walking pack. As soon as it was over, Livvie and I hurried home so I could finish packing and head back to my friends house.

Chapter 5: "Finally, A Free Day To Do Nothing"
Saturday came and I finally had a free day with no appointments, no walking/running events planned, nothing to do but relax and enjoy the dogs' company.
I attempted to sleep in, but couldn't get comfortable, so I gave up and went out to play with the girls. The temperature was pleasant, the sun was shining and we had fun running around the yard. It was a nice day indeed!

Chapter 6: "A Rude Awakening"
Early Sunday morning, I was awakened, not by the alarm clock, not by the chiming grandfather clock, not by the dogs whining to go out. No, I was awakened by a smell the likes of which nearly made me lose the contents of my stomach. I finally heard the dogs moving around at the far end of the house and got up to investigate. The smell was getting worse the closer I got to the dog-room. When I turned on the light, I was soooo grossed out.
If I thought the diarrhea my dogs had had the month before was bad, I hadn't seen nothing yet!
One or more of the dogs had messed all over the dog-room and it had splattered so bad, it even splashed under the door to the kitchen, so needless to say, I was walking in it. I tried to tip-toe past the worst of it and let the dogs out the back door before they could track through it any more and hustled them all into their pens. I then grabbed the pooper-scooper and attempted to scoop the pure liquid into it as I was at a loss on how to clean it up from the tiled floor. I carried the first scoop of liquid pooh outside and held it as far away from me as I could when I turned it over to pour it over the hillside, but that wasn't far enough. The liquid pooh hit the ground and splattered my shoes, my legs and the knee-length pants I was wearing. I wanted to puke.
I got as much of the pooh scooped off the floor as possible and then started grabbing towels to wipe of the rest, then started filling the washing machine to do load after load of dog-laundry.
I had no way of knowing which dog or dogs had been sick, so I made them all stay in their pens instead of letting them out to run. I was hoping whichever one(s) it was would have another incident in their run so I'd be able to determine who was guilty.
By the time I was ready to go to the farm, the only thing I knew for sure is that Bella and Sara weren't the guilty dogs.
Fortunately, it was a short morning at the farm and I hurried back to the kennel. The extra dog I'd been caring for had already been picked up by her owners. I'd spoken to them on the phone when I was leaving the farm and she'd been sick in her pen as had one of the other girls, so apparently I had 2 sick dogs on my hands. Well, now only 1 as they had taken their's home.
The mess that greeted me when I got back to the kennel was depressing. More diarrhea in the dog's run and it seemed to take me forever to get it hosed down.
Why couldn't I have another peaceful day like the day before???


Chapter 7: "Doctors"
I went and got an adjustment at the chiropractor which was much needed as my back was in agony by the time I'd arrived home Sunday night. Afterwards, we met my husband's dad and brother who was in town, for lunch. I wasn't about to ask my b-i-l for any favors, but my husband kept dropping hints all through lunch which his brother ignored, then John finally called him on our drive home and flat out asked him if he'd call in a prescription for some muscle relaxers for me. He said he'd call us right back and we didn't hear from him again 'til much later that evening. I told him I didn't want anything that would knock me out, so he prescribed Flexorill (sp?) which even a half tablet of those things will knock me on my ass. Gee, thanks dude.

Chapter 8: "Shopping Around"
We did some shopping on Tuesday. Initially, I wanted to find something for Olivia to wear in the Pet Parade she was to be in on Saturday, but John insisted upon buying the dogs their Christmas presents while we were out (a new stuffed toy for each of them). Of course, I thought we'd wait and give them their presents at Christmas, but the husband cut the tags off and handed them to the dogs as soon as we walked through the front door.
We'd purchased a bunny for Bootsy, a piggy for Eliott and a red chicken for Olivia. But nobody is ever happy with what's given them and they swapped their toys around. Surprisingly, even though it's been a whole week now, none have had the stuffings ripped out yet, and all but one still squeak.



As is typical of Olivia, as soon as she was handed her new toy, she went straight to her crate so she could guard her prize...


But it didnt' take Eliott long to get it away from her.



And Bootsy gave up the bunny for Eliott's piggy.

I tried part of Olivia's costume on her to see how she'd react.

Amazingly enough, she didn't seem to mind the antlers I put on her. You push a button on them and they light up.


Chapter 9: "The Short Doctor Appointment"
John managed to get an appointment to see his urologist, Dr. Short, on Wednesday. I can't wait to get that bill! I don't think he was back there more than 2 minutes, just long enough to tell the doc what was going on and for the doctor to tell him to come back in two weeks if he hadn't passed the stone.
Afterwards, we went to the movies to see "Old Dogs". I highly recommend this movie. John and I laughed almost non-stop throughout the whole thing. There was one moment towards the end that made the tears well up in my eyes, and not from laughter. I didn't want to take my eyes off the screen so I reached towards the seat in between us where my purse was lying and the stack of napkins and snacks. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see John reaching for a napkin as well and at the same time, we both started dabbing the tears running down our faces. I don't know if that particular scene had any effect on the other movie-goers, but I knew John and I were thinking about the same thing while we watched it. Despite the one sad moment, it truly was a laugh-out-loud movie. This was probably the hi-lite of our week.

Chapter 10: "Gone Shopping!"
Thursday morning, we headed up I-65 to Edinburgh Indiana to the outlet mall. As we weren't getting to "go out of town" persay as we'd hoped, the 90 minute drive to the mall was going to be the extent of our travels. We went, we shopped, we dropped some money, and we both purchased some much needed items.
I had only 2 pairs of jeans that half-way fit me and both were full of holes. I found three pair while there at only $15 each. Bargain of the day!! We found a big & tall store and John got some much needed dress shirts. He can find shirts at the stores near home that are big enough to go around him, but they are always too short in the body and sleeves. These were perfect.
We picked up a few more items and headed home. By the end of the day, I felt in desparate need of another adjustment to my back, but instead went home and took a muscle relaxer and zonked out.

Chapter 11: "Dad"
John's sister had to work and was unable to take their father to one of his doctors appointments, so we played chauffer to dad and he took us to lunch. Before heading back to his place we asked if there was anything he needed from the store. His reply, "well, I guess if you don't mind stopping at the A & P..." John & I both exclaimed, "A&P?" A&P's went out of business decades ago, at least 30+ years I'm thinking. I was beginning to wonder if the man was losing his mental facilities. Back at his place, I passed out on the sofa while John played cards with him.
If nothing else, I was finally cathing up on my sleep I'd been deprived of around Thanksgiving.
At home, we decided to light a fire outside and cooked dinner over the fire-pit then sat out there freezing out butts off.


Chapter 12: "First Place & A Free Trip"
Saturday morning we got up early. It was frigidly cold outside, temps down in the 20's. Brrr!
Livvie and I had yet another 5k to participate in and afterwards, the Parade of Pets. John decided he wanted to participate too, so he rode with us down the the Crescent Hill part of town. The 5k started and ended at Barret Middle School, with the route taking us along historic Frankfort Avenue. After signing-in, we went to sit in the gymnasium bleachers and keep warm 'til race time. Olivia was wearing part of her costume, the t-shirt and her jingle-bells and one woman came over to us and said, "I just want you to know you have made my week!" and she proceeded to fawn over Olivia. I just smiled, happy that my dogter could brighten another persons day.
As Crescent Hill is a very old part of town, the sidewalks aren't in very good shape and part of the event took us along sidewalks instead of the street. I made the comment to John it was a wonder that nobody ever fell and got hurt running along those sidewalks.
We finished the race right at our usual pace, then hurried over to the library a few blocks away as that's where the Pet Parade was starting.
When we got arrived, there were already a number of dogs gathered around. We unloaded Olivia and put the finishing touches on her costume then went to sign-in.
Here are some of the pix of the other dogs in attendance. Some were in costume, some not...


My favorite breed of small dogs, the corgi!

These danes weren't in costume, just there to enjoy the festivities. The one on the right that is almost all white is deaf. I never did catch their names. :(

This is Sam, I believe his owners said he's a Aussie Shepherd-mix

Is he not the cutest little thing in his "Santa's Helper" shirt?

This is Hannah. She was leading the parade, pulling a cart sponsored by ALL PETS VET CTR.

I didn't catch any of the other pets' names. There was one I missed getting his photo, but I believe it was the bloodhound that had on a pair of denim bib-overalls with tools in the pockets. He was too cute!

Okay, so the Pet Parade took us from the library, up Frankfort Avenue and ended at Quest Outdoors. There, some refreshements were served, door prizes were drawn, and the prize for the best costume was awarded.

And the winner is...... Drum-roll please....

OLIVIA!!!!

In case you're wondering what her boxer shorts has on it...

It's Stewie (Stuy?) from "Family Guy" and the phrase "Your Presents Shall Be Mine!"

Unfortunately, her light-up antlers wouldn't stay on, but not because she wouldn't leave them on. No, they kept sliding down under her chin while walking, so we had to take them off.

First place winner received a $10 gift card to Conez & Coneyz restaurant and from Quest Outdoors a new doggy leash and collapsible dog water dish. That we truly needed as our old one had sprung a leak.

After the week we'd had up until now, I thought things were finally ending on a high note. As we were walking back to our car, we were about a block away and crossing the street when I suddenly tripped on the curb. I did an awkward dance trying to maintain my balance and not fall, and just as I thought I'd saved myself, I got tangled up with Olivia and down I went. I landed hard on my left knee and hand before rolling over and pulling Olivia down on top of me.

Thankfully John was there with us as nobody bothered to stop and ask if we were alright. I guess had I been a cute, perky little blonde or something, people would've come out of the woodwork to rush to my assistance.

He kept trying to help me up and I kept pushing him away as I knew my knee wouldn't allow me to stand up at that moment. I finally had to shove Olivia's leash at him so I could free up my hands to massage my knee and remove my know torn gloves. Livvie came over to lick my face and somehow her affection made me want to cry that much harder. Thankfully, I had on two pairs of pants (did I mention it was bitterly cold out?) and neither of them had ripped, and yet still, my knee was skinned up, although not bad enough to have drawn blood. Same deal with my hand. When I was finally able to climb to my feet, the world around me was swaying and I was nauseous from the pain. John wanted me to stay put while he went to get the car, but I insisted upon limping the rest of the way, feeling sicker with each step.

When we got home, I took a hot shower, a whole muscle relaxer and went to bed with an ice pack on my knee.

It hadn't been such a great day after all.

Epilogue:

I'm back to work now and it's almost a relief to put yet another not-so-great-vacation behind us. Just once I'd like to have a nice vacation where only good things happen. Or at the very least, nothing at all happens worth mentioning.

I went to the doctor after work as I was in such pain and was informed I had a level-1 whiplash from the fall. The chiropractor adjusted me as much as he dared and I went home to suffer. Last night I was miserable, but actually this morning, I'm feeling much better. Not tip-top, but a lot better than I was.

I decided to skip my riding lesson for tonight, to give my body a chance to relax and heal.

The husband just called me a few minutes ago. His workplace picked their vacations dates for the upcoming 2010 calendar and he told me the dates he'd got. Not the dates he wanted, just the dates he got. Being low man on the totem pole, you don't get what you necessarily want.

His first week of vacation is in February.

Hmm, I don't think I'm ready for another week of misery so soon after this most recent vacation so I told him it would be a good time for him to go and visit his brother and mother for a week. :)