Monthly Archives: January 2010

And in the “Oh no, she didn’t” category

We’re still talking about the dentist today.  I’m sorry.  I have to purge that dark episode from my psyche and writing about it is cathartic.

It also conveniently gives me a post for today.

I was well prepared for my appointment.  I’d been practicing my deep breathing, wore my killer boots that give me an extra dose of confidence (and an intimidation factor since they push me well over 6′), and loaded my iPod with soothing/very loud music to drown out the pick-y and whirring sounds which  tend to make me break out in hives.

I arrived early to my appointment in hopes they would get me in and out sooner, and to pass the time, I thought I’d listen to some of my music to settle my nerves.  It was then I discovered to my SHEER HORROR that my earbuds weren’t in my purse.  Or in my jacket pocket.  Or in my car.  Or under the car.  I desperately texted Whimzie:

“One of the kids took my set of earbuds.  You know…the set I was going to use DURING MY APPOINTMENT????”

She ever so calmly texted back:

“Okay. It sounds bad, but we can get through this.” (Do you see why I love this woman more than my luggage?)

“Are Travis’ still in the car?”

Oh, you mean, these?

I must have paused long enough for her to text me again.

“I know what you’re thinking, but SWALLOW YOUR PRIDE, WOMAN! This constitutes an emergency.  Drastic times calling for drastic measures and all.”

Do you think I used them?

Dang straight, I did.

Have a nice day.

Is the Dentist’s Office BYOB?

Tuesday morning found me at my computer chatting on-line with Whimzie about the day’s agenda, the milk chocolate macadamia laceys at World Market, my Jersey hair, and what we could fix for supper that would satisfy at least three out of the five people in our family.  Whimz had already read my Monday post about dragging my feet over having to make appointments for doctor appointments so she harrassed the living life out of me offered gentle words of encouragement to just MAKE THE CALL.

One of those calls was to the dentist.  If you’ll recall, I have slight anxiety issues about going to the dentist (discussed here and here), and  this anxiety may or may not require a heavy overdose of prescription medication to overcome.  I was hoping that the very nice receptionist would tell me that they refused to ever have me darken their doors again, but sadly, they could fit me right in.

SO, while you’re reading this, I’ll be strapped into a chair, gripping the armhandles and praying for Jesus to return getting my teeth cleaned, vainly attempting to ignore  the awful sound of the spinny thing, trying not to feel self-conscious about a stranger being close enough to notice the size of my pores all the while controlling the urge to throw a Class A freak out and run screaming from the building.

Yes, I know I’m now 40 and expected to act maturely.  But 40’s the new 30, so I’m allowed.

Speaking of neurotic, I may use some of my chair time to ponder how Amy keeps her Tupperware drawer organized like this (scroll down to item #4 on her list).  WHO STACKS THEIR TUPPERWARE?

Someone else may need a prescription or two….

Have a nice day.

And in romantic news

Mr. CPQ brought home a new vacuum cleaner yesterday because our previous one was felled by carpet fuzz from the Great Carpet Installation Project of 2010.

It was not helpful that the motor on the old one burned out thirty minutes before company came over for dinner Sunday night, leaving my house with a lingering and distinct electrical odor that mixed ever so well with l’air du 10 year old boys and barbecue.

While Mr. CPQ is happy with all the buttons and gadgets, the boys are dancing circles over the fact that they now have eighteen new attachments to use as weapons of mass destruction against their siblings.

I’m a simple girl and practically giddy over the self-retracting cord.

Speaking of giddy, I was excited that I had TWO opportunities for outings with girlfriends yesterday.  My friend A. treated me to birthday lunch at my favorite ladies-who-lunch place, Zest.  We’ve been eating lunch together semi-regularly for three years and we never go any place else because the turkey burger at Zest is A THING OF BEAUTY.

I was supposed to meet other friends in the evening for my monthly poker night which amuses me to say because A) it sounds like a rabble rousing crew when really it’s a group of church ladies; B) we never play poker; and C) it’s a thinly veiled excuse to get together and eat cake.    The plans fell apart at the last minute but I didn’t want to waste my kitchen pass so I spur of the moment called a couple of friends that I’ve been trying to get together with for three weeks to ask if they had plans for supper, and I think they must be just like me because at 6 pm they were still staring blankly into the refrigerator searching for inspiration.

Forty-five minutes later we were happily esconced in a bowlful of guacamole and three baskets a basket of chips catching up with each other.

I came home to the sight of Mr. CPQ running the vacuum cleaner and I don’t think I’ve ever loved him more.

Enables my Mexican food cravings AND cleans the carpets?

I think I’ll keep him.

Have a nice day.

Topical Tuesday

I think sometimes fear hinders us not because we fear failure, but because we fear success.

Discuss.

Have a nice day.

Monday Musings

1.  The house must have reached epic levels of disaster because Mr. CPQ suggested to me on Saturday afternoon that we have a dinner party on Sunday night.

He would tell you that he was merely trying to experiment with new rib rubs and marinades for upcoming BBQ competitions, but I think the fact that we couldn’t walk through the living room without tripping over something meant it was time to find me some cleaning motivation.

2.  I love a feel good story so I’m happy that the Saints are going to the Super Bowl, but it’s causing me some consternation because they will be playing my favorite quarterback, Peyton Manning.  I’m going to have to do some deep soul searching to know for whom to cheer during the one football game a year I watch.

Time to start planning the menu. I do something different every year, and I’m not yet sure what it’s going to be. One thing’s for sure, there will be cream cheese.

Amen.

3.  It’s a fairly quiet week for me. My one goal is to get four doctor’s appointments scheduled.  You have permission to get on my case and hold me accountable for making the phone calls.  I absolutely abhor going to the doctor.

4.  Maybe related, I’m contemplating the concept of fear and how it hinders me.

5.  I’m also contemplating the leftover potato salad in the refrigerator and wondering how long before I succumb to its siren song.

Have a nice day.

Maybe, Maybe Not

I may or may not be typing this on my iPhone at a Panera.

I may or may not be insanely jealous of the woman at the table next to me who is eating two bagels all by herself.

I may or may not have stopped at the grocery store on the way to school this morning to buy breakfast and FEED IT TO MY CHILDREN IN THE PARKING LOT outside the store.

I may or may not be ready for Mr. CPQ to get back from his road trip.

I may or may not  have pulled out the whole “starving children in China” speech this morning at the boy who complained about peanut butter and jelly AGAIN in his lunchbox.

I may or may not have felt immediately horrible about my snippiness since it was my fault we were down to nothing in the cupboards.

I may or may not be on my 5th cup of coffee before 9 a.m.

I may or may not be headed to meet friends for coffee at 10.

I may or may not have found my written and addressed thank-you notes from Christmas in a stack of papers on the kitchen counter.

I may or may not have thought I mailed them three weeks ago.

I may or may not be in hot water with my mother and the  in-laws for that one.

Have a nice day.

Or not.

Ask Sus Three Questions Thursday

In which I make questions up, ask them of myself, and answer them, just to have something to say….

1. Why do you choose to read a particular person’s blog?

Confession:  I read a lot of blogs, even though I don’t always leave a comment.  In fact, if you’ve ever left a comment on my blog, I’ve most likely read yours and subscribed.  It’s a sickness, this addiction to the Google Reader Subscribe button.

A.

SICKNESS.

I read some blogs because I get tired of spaghetti and meatballs and I want inspiration in the kitchen department (or I just text Whimzie and see what she’s doing).  I read some blogs because they provoke me with their opinions with which I may or may not agree.  I read others because I in-real-life know the women behind the words and I like to know the daily-ness of what’s going on with them because we don’t see each other that often.  I read others because I think they’re good writers and I like to study their particular style to learn how and why it works.  I read some because they make me laugh.

And some blogs I read simply because I’m fascinated by the train wreck.

2.  Sus, do you like grape or strawberry jelly on your peanut butter sandwich?

I’m going to go out on a limb and say “neither”.  Yes, I know I gave myself two options that I didn’t even choose, but that’s how I roll. My favorite way to eat a peanut butter sandwich is JIF (always JIF) on white bread with lengthwise sliced bananas and a good drizzle of honey.

Big glass of milk, please, to accompany.

3.  Peanut butter and banana sounds like a match made in heaven, Sus.  Have you ever tried your hand at real matchmaking?

I was always a little boy crazy and dreamed up matches for myself on a daily basis, however only once have I tried to set up a friend with another friend.  I met Person A on-line several years ago and we’ve been friends ever since, chatting about this and that, my boys, her job, her dating life, etc.  About a year later, I met Person B through work acquaintances.  He happened to be single, attractive, employed, and conveniently lived in the same town as Person A.  While I didn’t know him well, I knew that he was easy-going and friendly, and that seemed to be enough for me to decide he’d make a good boyfriend for somebody.  I discretely inquired if he was interested in being set up and he was perfectly fine with it, so the wheels started turning in my head about how this was going to be sheer perfection for everyone.

I asked Person A if it would be okay for me (a random person she only knows on-line) to give her PRIVATE PERSONAL INFORMATION to Person B (a mere acquaintance of the random person she only knows on-line) so they could hit it off, fall in love, and live happily ever after.  She was feeling adventuresome and said, “Why not?”  So, I gave Person B her number and hoped for the best.

The best was not to be.

It was only after I set my wonderful little plan in motion that I discovered through other people that while Person B was perfectly nice and lovely, turns out that he had a bit of an “IRS problem” over this little thing called “tax evasion” and turns out he was no longer gainfully employed because he got fired.

Oh, don’t worry, friend.  He’s not an axe murderer.  He’s an unemployed convicted felon.

And thus ended my matchmaking career.

Have a nice day.

P.S. Person A and I are still speaking to each other.  Every friendship needs a good story to cement it, right?


Making up a title so there’s something to go here

I went back to the gym today after a week long absence due to the children who persist in hacking their lungs out on a daily basis.  I think they’re at the point they can all go back, albeit with a little pharmacological intervention, though they were doing their level best to persuade me otherwise at the breakfast table this morning.

Boys, boys, boys…you’re going to have to work on the fake sick look.  FYI, attempting ninja moves while you’re theoretically drawing your last breath is a dead giveaway that you might have a little life left in ya’ to go to school.

Upon arrival at the gym, I discovered I’d forgotten my headphones but I had these Fisher Price ones that I momentarily considered using until I remembered that other people blog and I might not want to end up on their “Guess What I Saw At The Gym” post.

So I forwent/forgoed/didn’t use the headphones and instead decided to catch up on my 90 day Bible reading program and spent 45 minutes reading about tribal head counts and enough ritualistic purification for disease that I may or may not have produced a sympathetic cough or two of my own.

Have a nice day.

Tuesday Tidbits

1.  We had our first basketball practice last night.  I confidently walked into the gym thinking “college scholarship”.  I slinked out thinking “aggressive savings strategy”.

2.  The boys were off for MLK Day so we went to the Lego store.  As did every other boy under the age of twelve in Wake County.

3.  Falafel can vary widely from restaurant to restaurant.  I should have known to pass on the mall food court version.

4.  I got a call yesterday from the pediatrician that Baby A’s strep culture had come back positive.  This made me feel better because my mom’s instinct told me something was up with him, but he was not presenting the classic symptoms. Friday’s rapid strep test was negative and I was perturbed that I had over-reacted and hauled him in for nothing, but the slow growing culture over the weekend indicated that yes, something was amiss.  I’m feeling a little vindicated, even if means dishing out the pink stuff twice a day for the next week and a half.

5.  I have not watched a minute of coverage of the disaster in Haiti, not because I am unfeeling, but because it hits so close to home.  I was six years old when a 7.6 earthquake hit Guatemala, throwing me out of bed at 3:00 a.m.  I remember my dad picking me up and running down the hallway to get out of the house in case it collapsed.  I can still see the concrete walls swaying and hear the roar of the earth rumbling and the shattering sound of falling dishes.  I remember the aftershocks and running outside every time the ground shook.  My prayers are with the people of Haiti and for the relief workers who are assisting them. Our donation has gone to The Haiti Response Fund which is administered by the International Mission Board of the Southern Baptist Convention.

6.  I don’t want to be inappropriately light-hearted, but if I don’t seek laughter in my daily life, I go to an ugly place rather quickly.

7.  I am currently obsessed with RiceWorks Sweet Chili chips.  And Sweet Chili Doritos.  And the sweet chili sauce that goes on the summer roll I buy at the grocery store sushi stand on a weekly basis.

8.  I have five cans of pumpkin in the pantry because there was going to be a shortage at Thanksgiving.  I loaded up, disregarding the fact that no one in my family eats anything remotely squash-related.  I did manage to find a pumpkin chocolate chip muffin recipe they liked, but that only took care of one can and I’ve got five to go.  Ideas, anyone?

9.  One of these days I’m going to run out of things to blog about.

10.  Today may be that day.

Have a nice day.

On the wings of love

Several of you asked me about the back story to this picture that I posted Thursday.

I almost don’t know which direction to take because there are many tales captured within the faded and blurry 3×5 margins.

We could talk about my mom, impeccably dressed in her chic yellow sheath and taupe heels.

My mother dressed to the nines every day.  Everything was always pressed, tucked, belted, and she didn’t sit down at breakfast without her makeup being on.  I don’t remember seeing her in a give-away t-shirt and she NEVER wore shorts even though she has the cutest legs imaginable.

I am so adopted.

We could talk about the grass runway on which I’m standing that served as our airport.

When it wasn’t being used by airplanes, goats and the occasional cow grazed on it.  Many a time we’d have to buzz the airstrip to shoo the animals away before coming in for a landing.  There wasn’t a terminal building – just a small tin-roofed shack where you might find someone passing as air traffic control but more likely you’d find three or four people milling about trying to hitch a ride to wherever the next plane was going.

We could talk about my poor fashion choices, but that was covered rather thoroughly in the comments of the previous post.

Ahem.

Instead, I’d rather talk about the man standing next to me.

We were fortunate to have several Mission Aviation Fellowship (MAF) pilots work with us over the years, but Royce was my favorite.  His home base was Coban where my family lived and I played with his children frequently, so our families were very close (that’s his wife, Linda, talking to my mom in the picture).   He worked a lot with my dad, taking him into places that were incredibly remote and difficult to access.  You cannot imagine the kinds of airstrips on which he had to land – many times nothing more than a hacked out clearing in a cornfield on the side of a mountain – but he always went where he was needed because he had a passion for people and a passion for ministry.

My experiences with him were on my frequent trips back and forth to boarding school (9 hours by car or half hour by plane – I’ll take the plane for $200, please, Alex).  Nothing delighted me more than hearing the distinctive overhead buzz as he approached campus on a Friday afternoon.  He was like a white knight riding in to rescue us from the evil clutches of our dorm-parents.

I may or may not have been an imaginative child.

He ALWAYS had the biggest smile as he stepped out of his plane to collect us and take us home.  He ALWAYS greeted us with a bear hug and was so patient with our incessant chattering over the headphone mics.  He ALWAYS was incredibly disciplined and safe with his cargo.  He ALWAYS was dependable, in the big things and in the little things which ALWAYS included having a sick bag for my brother who yakked on.every.single.trip home.

I had the great privilege of reuniting with Royce a few years ago.  He and his wife live within a few hours of here, and they came to visit and have dinner with us when my parents were in town.  You cannot imagine the thrill of opening the door and be instantly enveloped in the strong arms of my hero pilot.  Three decades instantly melted away and I was again that little girl in the garish orange overalls who couldn’t keep her lips from flapping over all the things that needed to be said.  And he kept smiling and he kept laughing and he kept blessing me with his kind, gracious, open and generous spirit.

He’s still doing what he loves, though now the runways are paved and uncrowded with livestock and the cargo a little less motion sick.

And I still love him.

Tremendously.

Have a nice day.