Showing posts from March, 2014

Basic Training

Friday I went to my first physical therapy appointment, where I learned that the muscles in my left leg and hip are much weaker than those on my right and that my left calf muscle looks, to quote my physical therapist Nola, "atrophied."

Atrophied - as if I weren't even using it.  What the heck? I walk several miles a week and run up and down the stairs of my townhouse approximately 50 times a day. I mean, it's not as though I am hopping on one leg to do all that. All I can figure is that the pain in my leg has been so severe that I was somehow favoring it and not using it as much.

But, still, is that even possible?

Nola was right, though - when she had me do side leg lifts, I could feel the difference between left and right. She assigned me a page and a half's worth of exercises to do every day, and - well -what Nola wants, Nola gets.  She was going to assign me core strengtheners also (for my arthritic back); but I assured her that I was already bes…

Officially Decrepit

I went to the doctor today, in search of a physical therapy referral to help with my sciatica.

Gosh, I wouldn't blame anyone if they stop reading right there.

So! What I thought would take 15 minutes took an hour, what with their insisting on weighing me (I don't want to talk about it) and taking my blood pressure (which I made them do twice, because I didn't like the first numbers) and the doctor's ordering x-rays of my back and hips before she would put in the referral.

Did you know you have to take off your bra to do a lower back x-ray?  I was not happy.

Anyway, all that took an hour (which really isn't bad, considering the x-rays) and then I had to run out of there to pick up David from school; and my dinky cellphone, which only rings when it WANTS to, missed the call from the doctor, who left a voicemail telling me there were apparent "arthritic changes" in my back.

You know, I knew that already.  I could feel it.  But hearing it?  Really depressed…

Showering Like It's 1899

On Friday, our water heater up and quit.  QUIT.  I suspect it was seeking revenge for my so handily fixing the problem with our clothes washer.  You see, the washer wasn't spinning all the water out and kept flashing an error code at me, a problem which I managed to ignore until the door locked midcycle and I had to punch all sorts of buttons get it to open so that I could throw the dripping clothes into the dryer (which, I know, is an awesome way to break that particular appliance).  As I stood there, staring at the recalcitrant washer, something whispered "washer filter" to me.

Look, all sorts of people start hearing voices in troubled times.  Think Joan of Arc, all right?

Washer filter, it said.  Well, I thought, I don't know where the washer filter IS.  Dammit, people, I'm a suburban housewife, not a certified appliance repairman.  But then I noticed a tiny little door on the front of the washer and remembered that my dryer repairman (after his ye…

All Aboard!

Rachel says she feels WAY better now that she has thrown up. Just wanted to share that with you all. All I can think about is the looming nightmare that is Mulch Weekend, and how a badly timed stomach virus has the ability to lay waste to all our finely-tuned plans. Essentially, I am not going to eat until Monday.

Larry isn't even aware yet that we have just boarded the Stomach Flu Express. Poor guy, he probably thinks he has everything under control. Being the father of 6 children, he should totally know better, of course. But, despite his 22 years of parenting experience, he persists in thinking that - if he just plans things well enough - reality won't rear its ugly head and spit in his face.

That sort of naïveté is rather charming, you know? Like Don Quixote tilting at windmills, only more hopeless...

Just Call Me Czarina

Anyone who has read this blog for any length of time KNOWS that Larry and I do not work well together. We cannot shop for furniture together. We can rarely choose paint colors together. Home renovation projects? Don't even think about it. Over the years, we have developed a divide-and-conquer system to preserve marital peace. He does his thing, I do mine, and we rarely collaborate.

Hey, it works, okay?

So, when Larry started the boys in Scouting, I had no problem with it. A father-led activity, complete with monthly camping trips that left me home in relative peace and quiet? A yearly fundraising activity that did the same? Fine with me!

And then, my fatal misstep - I took over Hospitality for the troop, which job includes running the food tent for our annual Mulch Delivery Days. Still, there was a method to my madness - I figured that, so long as I had a major role in this fundraiser, no one could pressure Larry into taking charge of the time-consuming logistics of the whole mul…

Hi And Oy Vey

It's late, so I am just popping in to say hi. Tomorrow or Sunday I will tell you all about why this next 8 days will be the true test of my marriage and why the couple that volunteers together may not be an ideal for you and your spouse to strive toward. Also? Communication is important, but apparently 24 years is not enough time for Larry and I to master that skill.

So, with that teaser, go to sleep; but remember, don't let your spouses become assistant scout masters - no good can come of it, I assure you.

Baby, You Can Light My Fire

As we headed out to our afternoon activity today, we noticed the day had become windy.  Very windy.  As in, we kept expecting to see a witch come riding through the air on her bicycle windy.  At our destination, the kids and I saw a large pine branch crush the hood of a minivan and tear through the roof of the convertible parked next to it.

Lesson of the day: DO NOT PARK near trees.

Now it's evening and the wind has picked up again.  Rachel is sleeping on the couch because I am scared to put her in her room on the top floor.  So far we have power, but there are numerous outages in the area and the temps are plummeting down to 20 or below tonight.  So I am wondering just why Larry had to try to "fix" the gas fireplace in the den last week.  It didn't look broken to me, but he claims the jets weren't burning right.  Now, they're not burning at all.  And neither of us can remember the name of the guy who has fixed the fireplaces before.

We went downstairs later …

Pretzels Are Not Satisfying

I couldn't get to sleep until 1:15 AM Sunday night (well, Monday morning) due to that *&%&# (sp?) time change, and then Rachel woke me at 4:15 announcing that her stomach hurt.  I realized, while lying on the couch waiting for my beloved progeny to throw up, that my stomach hurt, too.  And so we spent all of Monday not eating and generally feeling lousy.

But no one barfed!  It's a win!

Stomach bug or not, I still managed to get a long-overdue pedicure (spring green with sparkles, but I am regretting that decision) AND to attend Bunko, where I was not able to eat even ONE BITE of all that delicious food.  Alas, ye mini quiches and delicious cream-cheese chutney, I hardly knew ye.

Gosh, I'm hungry.  I did eat a few pretzels and half a banana this morning, just to see what would happen.  Consider it my contribution to science.  Now they're sort of roiling around in my intestines, trying to decide what to do.

You're welcome.

In the meantime, it's GORGEOUS h…

Who Dat?

Well, it's happened.  Tonight I lost my Dr. Who virginity, as it were - after months of reading friends' Facebook posts about the Doctor and watching my knitting friends knitting Tardis mittens (true story) and generally feeling out of the loop, I finally got around to watching a 2005 episode on Netflix.

Yeah, I'm hooked.

You know, I grew up in the 70's and early 80's, when the word "geek" was a pejorative; so I still cannot get over how cool it is to be geeky and to like weird sci-fi shows.  I look at David (a true tech geek/science lover) and almost envy him.  I mean, if he wanted, he could actually be popular.  That option wouldn't have been open to him 35 years ago, that's for sure.

Progress, folks, we're making progress here.

On another pop culture note, I would just like to register my feeble shout of protest that "Let It Go" won Best Song at the Oscars this year.  It's a good song, but - for my money - "Happy" i…

I NEED That Hour

Someone took my girls home with her after ice skating yesterday morning, leaving me to head back to my house ALL BY MYSELF. After briefly torturing Brian with grammar, I was free to scrub my bathrooms, clean up my living room, vacuum the floors and the rugs, and shovel all the detritus of winter (gloves, hats, tracked-in road salt, etc.) out of my entryway. Also? I prepped dinner.

It was glorious.

Today we went on a field trip, and Susie pouted through the whole thing.  "I don't LIKE airplanes," she grumbled to me, as our docent waxed rhapsodic over the first Boeing jetliner.  "I wanted to go to the bounce place."  She also refused to join the rest of the group in making paper airplanes and testing their center of gravity.  Homeschooling rebel, we call her. Poor thing, she'd like to cut class, but how?

I nursed a migraine the rest of the day. It's still here, actually, keeping me company as I type these words. Happily, Larry is the one getting up at 4:0…

Red Carpet Moment

Remember this?  It is my paean to the JAG jeans I heard about from Anna at An Inch of Grey, the jeans with a smooth stretchy belly panel instead of an unforgiving snap, the jeans that masquerade as hip yet accommodate the unfortunate ravages of age that we middle-aged women suffer.

THOSE jeans.  I love them.  Just pull 'em on and run out the door - no struggling with the zipper, no trying to hide an unsightly bulge above the waistband.  LOVE. THEM.

So!  Thursday we had ice skating in the morning, plus I had my weekly walk date with a friend beforehand.  I got up early, showered, pulled my jeans on over my exercise pants (because it is still REALLY COLD around here), and away I went.  Walked 2 1/2 miles with my friend, threw the girls in the car, got to the skating rink, chatted with various people there and knitted while the girls skated for 2 hours, and then returned home, where Rachel discovered during lunch that her 2 upper molars were too loose to allow her to eat without blee…

Mad for Mads

So far, so good.  But I still don't have the nerve to put away the bucket or the cleaning supplies yet.  I'm not interested in tempting fate, you know.  And I think the stomach bug is waiting for my washer to die before it reappears.  Lately, the washer won't finish spinning and I go downstairs to find it blinking an error code at me and the clothes inside are still quite drippy.  So, because I like to avoid reality, I take the too-drippy clothes and throw them in the dryer (which housekeeping practice, I am sure, will result in its early demise, also) and put a new load in the washer and then everything is okay.  At least, I pretend it is.

You know, I went without a dishwasher for over 2 years and barely blinked an eye.  But I bet 36 hours would be the longest I could last without a clothes washer.  It's a good thing I've got a Best Buy 5 minutes from my house, is all I'm saying.  Because you never know when you will have an appliance emergency...

I am going …