Daily Archives : Page 88 of 110 : Fluid Pudding

Do you mean Wish like The Wicked Wish?!

For the past few weeks, I’ve been helping out in Meredith’s classroom. To make a long story short: While in first grade, the second graders learned 100 Word Wall Words. These are high frequency words that we all see every single day. My job is to test the kids on these words to make sure they know how to spell them correctly. The goal is to get through all 100 words before the parent/teacher conferences next week.

We breezed through the first set of words—words like A and The and Of. Now we’re starting to get into homonyms. Cue the hilarity.

Me: Number 15 is To. We went TO the store.

Student A: Like, TWO of us went to the store?

Me: No. Like, I went TO my room.

Student B: Like, I went to your room, TOO?

Me: Number 16 is Been. We have BEEN taking this test for seven hours. Been.

Student A: Like, I’ve BEEN to Florida, or like my COUSIN Ben?

Student B: Number 16 is Cousin?!

I’ll be sad when the spelling tests are over. Did I mention that one of the words was But? Yep. That one got a lot of laughs.

Interestingly enough, no one flinched at As. This is why I like seven year olds. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Speaking of pepper…

So, a few weeks back I was hanging out on Facebook when I noticed that Mihow was Etsy’s Featured Seller. Here’s the thing. I love Mihow, and I had been wanting to buy some of her schizophrenic lollipops for quite some time. When I noticed that she had added Pepper Pops to the store? Yeah. Sold!

My pepper pops arrived a few days back, and I am in love.

I’ve always been a fan of sweet and salty. I’m now a fan of sweet and peppery. I have only two left, and I’m trying my hardest to save them for a special occasion. With that said, Sunday marks the end of Daylight Savings Time. Special. (My next order will include Chai and The Elvis. I’m hooked.)

AND, because I love to talk about my friends, please know that my friend and neighbor has gone public with her new website. She focuses on cooking from scratch on a budget and she covers everything from the equipment you’ll need to pantry staples to recipes and more. So many good ideas! (And I know for a fact that she’s an excellent cook.)

(Oh. Wait. In case you’re on the edge, the Mint Chip on a Stick and Sweet Tea are also very good. And don’t even get me started on Asian Orange.)

I had a mammogram yesterday. I was going to take photos and do a big step-by-step thing for you, but then I got all flustered and told the technician a bunch of information that she didn’t need to know, and then I was terribly embarrassed, and my camera never made it out of the bag. So. THAT happened. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Get ready to make passes. Or not.

Last week I stopped at a stoplight (as I often do), and for whatever reason, I reached up and rubbed my right eye. Suddenly, with my hand over my right eye, I could no longer read the Imo’s sign across the street and I Freaked Out (as I often do).

This is what it has been like to live with me during the past week: Please picture yourself sitting in our rocking chair and watching television. I’m sitting on the couch. A commercial comes on, and text flashes across the screen. From the corner of your eye, you see my right hand fly up to my right eye.

Me: I CAN’T READ THAT TEXT! IF I DIDN’T KNOW THOSE WERE WORDS I WOULDN’T KNOW THOSE WERE WORDS!!! WHAT DOES IT SAY?!?!

(Jeff has been carving the “Love is patient…” verse from Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians into his left forearm with a dirty pocket knife as I sit on the couch screaming like Helen Keller at the running text on CNN. Anderson Cooper!)

I went to see an eye doctor yesterday morning, and I’m now carrying around a prescription for glasses. (If you’re craving details, please know that I’m astigmatic in my left eye, and my right eye vision is actually worse than my left—but neither eye is very bad. The astigmatism is throwing my brain off, which sparks my interest in many ways, most of which center around that headache I’ve been droning on about for the past six weeks.)

So, anyway. When it’s time to choose a pair of glasses, the best thing to do is take a photo of yourself and play on the computer in your kitchen, right? Right!

Okay, look. I know it’s not a great photo of me. You’re never going to get one of those, so let’s suck it up and concentrate on the glasses. I don’t mind these at all.

I mind these a little more. They’re too thin, maybe? I need some pressed powder for my nose.

Harper likes the orange frames the best. Pearle Vision is running a Buy One, Get One Free deal on frames. Even with that deal, I don’t believe I’ll go for the orange. They make me look like I’m a Celine Dion fan who’s trying really hard to carry off Funky, but everyone knows she has a sweatshirt at home that features a St. Bernard wearing a Santa hat. Am I right? Also, when did I start looking like Jeff Goldblum?

I just fell asleep. This is what I would look like if I fell asleep while wearing glasses!

AND, now I’m scared. This is fun, isn’t it?

My glasses have to look smart during my late night mustard drinking sessions!

I just made out with Ben Folds!

So, anyway. The eye doctor has made me promise to not call him if I reach for the pepper shaker and miss it for the first few days after getting the glasses.

Me: Can I call you if I fall down the stairs?

Him: No. Just wear the glasses and be careful. Your eyes and brain will adjust to any abnormalities you may sense at the beginning. Call me in a year and we’ll revisit the prescription.

Me: I fall down a LOT. I NEVER TOOK DANCE LESSONS!

Him: That’s great. Call me in a year.
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My roommate once told me I was Very Wide. Follow this link to read the story, and you could win $150! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Dorothy Parker led a horticulture…

When Meredith takes classes at the middle school, more often than not she comes home with a new joke. This is what happened in the car on the way home from school last Thursday.

Immediately, the gears in Harper’s brain began to smoke. She would not be outdone.

Me: Okay. No.

Harper: Wasn’t that funny?

Me: Actually, I thought it was very funny. But for the wrong reasons. We can’t use Whore. Can you come up with a different ending?

Harper: TORSE!!!!

Me: Yes! Torse!!!! HA HA HA HA HA!!!!

Meredith: What’s a whore?

Me: WHO WANTS A FROSTY FROM WENDY’S?! Because I do!!!

Tossing Hats into Rings and Whispering “NaBloPoMo.”

So, yeah. We did the Halloween thing. Meredith was Scary Selena Gomez, and Harper was Rose Princess.

I don’t really get into Halloween, although I try my best to put on a good show, what with the “Ooh! You look so spooooky!” and the “What a beyooootiful princess!!!” schlock that I tend to puke up every time someone knocks on my door. (I really do get into the pumpkin carving thing. With that said, I believe I pulled a muscle in my back carving the Hello Kitty pumpkin for Meredith. I’m 147 years old.)

There was a spooky pumpkin guy at the school’s Trunk or Treat on Friday, and his mouth looks like Jeff’s mouth. So, although Jeff swears he was working late and could not be at the Trunk or Treat, I like to pretend that he really was there—all goofified in a pumpkin head and staying silent to up his spooky cred. (Sometimes I type poetry by accident. I’m sure Allen Ginsberg knows what I’m talking about.) (Note: Goofified? You won’t find it in the dictionary. And that’s a shame.)

I finished my ghost socks just in time for Halloween, and then I forgot to wear them. I believe Teddy Roosevelt once said that Election Day is a good day for ghost socks. (Oh! Before you think I got all crazy talented with the ghost socks, please know that the dyer actually dyed the yarn so that if you knit at seven stitches per inch, the ghosts appear. That’s all you have to do. Genius.)

To keep up with tradition, I’m thinking of posting every day this month. I already know that I’m going to have five days of trickiness around Thanksgiving, so I’m not going to officially sign on for NaBloPoMo. Let’s see what happens.
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My roommate once told me I was Very Wide. Follow this link to read the story, and you could win $150! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Why, yes. I’d love some.

First off? I love each and every one of you for your words of wisdom and concern regarding my crazy headache drama. Without going into too much detail (Just wait a few paragraphs. You know how I am), I believe I am on the mend. So, it now appears that we have a bit of catching up to do related to things that don’t really impact your life at all. But isn’t that how it is when you find yourself sitting across the table from someone? Let’s pretend you and I are enjoying some coffee, and it’s my turn to talk. (I always let you go first, because I’m sort of a Girl Scout like that.) I’ll even put my words in quotation marks so it really seems like I’m using my larynx! Don’t we have fun?

“Yep. As much as I think I would like to hang out with Nate Berkus for a few minutes, I really don’t believe his show is going to last. It’s all over the place and he’s giving pillows away to a sad lady and then all of a sudden a little bouncy girl is featured who designs semi-hoochie clothes, and then we’re talking about dating, and married couples who put sex at the bottom of their totem pole, and some lady keeps a litter box in her bedroom, and really. So much shifting of the focus, and no vintage ribbon to tie it all together.”

“Jeff and I celebrated nine years of marriage on Wednesday by taking Harper to karate, picking Meredith up from scouts, and taking both kids to church choir. We shut the night down with French silk pie, which really isn’t a bad way to shut things down. Jeff presented me with nine roses. I presented him with The Instructions. This evening may find us indulging in a bit of sushification.”

“I just finished my part of a smooth sailing freelance project, and I’m now taking time off while I adjust to my new migraine prevention pills. I’m feeling a few hours of relief each day from the headache, but I’m replacing the pain with a constant haze that, according to my doctor, should last no longer than six weeks. I’m high. When I reach for something, my hand arrives a split second after I think it should. Yesterday, after my neighbor and I discovered that we were both craving Indian food, I found myself filling my plate at Gokul’s buffet. When my plate was full, I went and sat down at a different table from where we had been seated just a few minutes before. Excuse me while I kiss the sky, Guster.”

“Last night we went to the middle school for a family game night, and for the first time ever, Harper kicked my butt at checkers. (This may or may not have anything to do with the anti-seizure meds. Whee!) After each move, she took breaks to work on the book she’s writing about brownies. I would document all of this in her baby book, but why start now?”

“An older bow-tied gentleman at church once noticed that I tend to put the sugar in the cup before pouring in the coffee. He nodded his head and said, ‘Ah! You’re a Pre-Sugarian!’ That will stick with me for the rest of my life.”

“You look so pretty slash handsome today. Please pass the Doritos.”
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My roommate once told me I was Very Wide. Follow this link to read the story, and you could win $150! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

These are the Facts

Please know that this is all about girl innards and headaches. If you’re not interested, may I suggest you go over here instead? Really.

1. On Sunday, September 26th, I was hit with a migraine, so I did what I always do—I took a Maxalt. This normally kills it within a few hours, but for some reason, on September 26, the Maxalt didn’t even begin to touch the migraine.

2. On Monday, September 27th, I began to cycle, which has absolutely nothing to do with putting on shiny shorts and a helmet. Interestingly enough (it’s really not interesting at all), that was my first cycle since being taken off my BCP nearly a month ago. (I’ve been on the pill for nearly 20 years, and we have breast cancer in the family which puts a capital R on my risky. My doctor and I have been throwing around other options for several months now, and I’ve balked at every one. In September, she played hard ball (as she should have) by not renewing my prescription.)

3. On Tuesday, September 28th, I took another Maxalt. No relief. Terrible headache.

4. By Wednesday, October 6th, I had taken three Maxalt and two of my other migraine pills. (Not all at once, Silly. Spread out over eleven days!) Still paining. SO, I went to see the nurse practitioner at the headache center. She gave me a Toradol shot, which basically made me feel really high and nasty. It did nothing for the headache. She also told me to take anti-seizure drugs that have not been approved by the FDA for migraine prevention, but supposedly work for migraine prevention. (I didn’t take them. I’m weird about just throwing crap at my head—especially if that crap comes with a long list of side effects.)

NOTE: I’ve had the migraines where I end up in bed crying with blankets pulled over my head. This (Thank God) is not one of those. It’s just a constant pain that radiates from my shoulders up to my right eye and sometimes my left eye (sometimes both) and it affects my concentration, and it makes my stomach feel nasty and I feel all hazy and yeesh.

5. On Thursday, October 7th, I attended the most heart-wrenching event I’ve attended in many years. Out of respect for everyone involved, I won’t go into any details. BUT, I will say this: on the drive home my headache was so unbearable that I actually called my gynocologist and BEGGED her to put me back on the pill so that I could get some relief. She didn’t want to do it, but she did it.

6. Monday. October 11th. Now back on the pill for five days. Still no relief.

7. On Tuesday, October 12th, I spoke on the phone with my migraine doctor. She promised that we would get rid of this thing. She told me to go off of the BCP. No more BCP. EVER. She prescribed a steroid that should take care of this headache. She told me to start taking the anti-seizure drug (Zonisamide) that the nurse practitioner had given me the week before.

8. Sunday. October 17th. The headache is now 21 days old, I’ve taken 21 steroids, and am now on anti-seizure drugs. The inside of my head feels hot, my entire body feels tingly (in a not so good way), and I’m feeling like I’m not very sharp (I’m making silly mistakes, forgetting things, etc.). I’m able to keep appointments (mostly), I’m still able to get work done, but I’m just not Me. (I didn’t make it to church this morning because the thought of up and down and sing and up and down and smile and so forth did me in. I was all dressed and ready to go, but then I simply Could Not Do It.)

So, Gggggrrrrrrrrr. I’m now The Girl With the Neverending Headache. (Call Limahl. I’ve got a remake idea for him.) And she’s not interesting or funny. She just sort of sits around in a robe eating apples and looking like your sick old Aunt Marie. Plan for tomorrow: Call the Headache Clinic again. (They’re really very good. I’m actually knitting a pair of Nemesis socks for my doctor, because when/if this headache is conquered, she deserves a prize.)

I offer my apologies to you. Fluid Pudding is not normally a place for such melancholic melon complaints. I’ll probably privatize this number in the next day or so. (Mainly because I’m scheduled to be happy on here tomorrow morning.) Tell me a joke. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Don’t mind us. We’re just perpetuating the stereotype…

On Saturday morning, we bundled up with coffee and doughnuts, sat lawn chairs on the side of the road, and enjoyed the high school’s homecoming parade.

The girls were very excited to see Pete the Pirate. (Actually, they were excited to see that Pete was throwing Tootsie Rolls. The hurling of the candy is their favorite part of the parade.)

I was surprised to see how many people showed up to represent the class who graduated from the high school during the year that I was born. (Note to my fellow WHS 1988 graduates: Don’t count on me riding a “float” and/or wearing owl headgear in 2028.)

As an editor, I’m always excited to find spelling errors during parades.

This one was due to adhesive failure, and cannot be blamed on the junior class.

This one? I’m really hoping it had everything to do with the sign maker and nothing to do with the athletic department.

Meredith: How do you say that word? Assitivities?

Me: Um, no. A-city-vitties.

Meredith: I like Assitivities.

Me: Hhhhh. Me too.
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You are cordially invited to admire my senior photo from high school and take a chance at winning $150!

Please read about my extraordinary family, and follow the links to win all sorts of prizes! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Sidney. Bono. Yoda. Apples.

Jeff and I were watching a documentary about U2.

Sidney began to mimic Bono’s posture.

We all laughed and laughed.

(All of this to ask: Do you have a favorite variety of apple? I just did a side by side comparison of SweeTango and Honeycrisp, and SweeTango was definitely the winner. I know at least three people who would slap me for saying such a thing, but look at me. I just said it.)
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You are cordially invited to admire my senior photo from high school and take a chance at winning $150!

Please read about my extraordinary family, and follow the links to win all sorts of prizes! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

I ain’t gonna study war no more.

On Friday evening the temperature dropped and the four of us found ourselves sitting around in the family room with the windows open and the television off. Perfect night. Then, all of a sudden: “I SAID HELLO, MARY LOU! GOODBYE HEART! SWEET MARY LOU I’M SO IN LOVE WITH YOU!!!”

Jeff: Girls, do you hear that? The church up the street is having their barbershop quartet sing-off tonight!

Me: Wow! It sounds like they have a new sound system! Should we walk up and watch? There might be snowcones!

Meredith and Harper: NO!

So, we continued to sit and listen from our family room, and the music was a bit loud, yet sort of lovely, and the air was crisp, and all was well. (Five commas!) And then two hours passed, and it was bedtime for the girls, and the whole sing-off thing was quickly losing its charm.

“YOU MUST HAVE BEEN A BEAUTIFUL BABY! YOU MUST HAVE BEEN A WONDERFUL CHILD!!!”

“DOWN BY THE OLD MILL STREAM!!! WHERE I FIRST MET YOU!!! WITH YOUR EYES OF BLUE!!! DRESSED IN GINGHAM, TOO!!!!”

Me: Every time one of the songs comes to an end, I find myself praying that the show is over.

Jeff: I’m starting to wonder if the show will EVER be over.

Meredith: I changed my mind. Let’s go see the singers.

Jeff and Me: No.

Another hour passes.

“YOU HOLD HER HAND, AND SHE HOLDS YOURS AND THAT’S A VERY GOOD SIGN!!! THAT SHE’S YOUR TOOTSIE-WOOTSIE IN THE GOOD OLD SUMMERTIME!!!”

Me: I hate barbershop quartets. HATE them.

“GOODBYE MY CONEY ISLE! GOODBYE MY CONEY ISLE! GOODBYE MY CONEY ISLAND BABE!!!”

Me: I’m going to kill someone. If this doesn’t end soon, I swear I’m calling the police.

Ah, but it did end. And thank God for that, because I was starting to itch in strange places, which I believe indicates the onset of An Episode. I’m not sure who won, but I believe it was the gang who belted out Down by the Riverside. Now that we’re more than 48 hours past the trauma, I feel good admitting that they SHOULD have won. Two words: Harmonized Glissandi. (I’m all about glissandi lately—both the word and the effect. This song is getting a lot of play in my car.) ((By the way, I’m totally going to the barbershop quartet sing-off next year. And I’m taking you with me.))

On Saturday afternoon, we went to the school’s Fall Festival, where plates were broken, faces were painted, and severely awkward conversations were held (because that’s what I tend to do).

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You are cordially invited to admire my senior photo from high school and take a chance at winning $150!

Please read about my extraordinary family, and follow the links to win all sorts of prizes! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>