Separated at birth

I have a sinus issue. Ugh. I hate it. It’s one of the miseries of living in the lavish Ohio valley. I’m on perma-pills for my allergies, and I think sometimes that gives me this false hope that someday, I’ll be cured of my ailment. I read somewhere that every seven years, your body adjusts and things that you were once allergic to suddenly aren’t, well, what’s the word? Allergiable? Whatever. That hasn’t happened to me yet – but I remain hopeful.

But I digress. Back to sinuses. I hate how it all starts – the drippy crap in the throat that makes me sound like I’m a two-pack-a-day lounge singer. Then the stuffy headache. The cough. And this is my favorite part – people call, and then they casually say, good lord, what the hell is wrong with you? You sound awful. That a frog in your throat? Gee. Huh. No – that would be SNOT, thank you very much. And they say - Well, I’m just saying, you sound husky. And, just to add to my humiliation, my husband assures me that when the sinus gods have their way with me, I snore. Apparently, like the Pugs. Oh, gawd. This is my worst nightmare.

I try not to give this much thought, given my years in therapy overcoming anxieties that are surely far worse then this. Money well-spent. Right?

Um, maybe not. I’m thumbing through my photo folders, trying (not very successfully) to organize them differently. And I find this photo in a folder marked MSC. Oh, heavens. I have a flashback of fourth grade when Tina Davidson used to pick on me by holding her nose up with her thumb: PUG NOSE! You have a PUG nose!

Pug nose?

Thumb back to folders (dozens of them) marked DOGS. O.M.G. Pug nose! Snoring! I think Tina (that little snot!) must have given a prophecy of some kind – it must have been. The sinus gods are having a hardy laugh right now. They were living for this moment when I discovered that there is a reason I snore like a Pug. Come on – you know you see them resemblance…

Weren’t you forgetting your ham?

I’m not sure how comfortable I feel posting this after my “I want a piglet!” declaration – but oh well. I do eat ham. Oh, and for those of you who don’t know, I came out of the no-longer-vegetarian closet a few months ago – just so ya’ know.

Anyway, this is another of my classic ADHD issues – the one where I start looking for something, only to end up finding another, far more interesting something that I wasn’t looking for, but non-the-less am happy to have found. Or – the “I’m going to put the laundry in the dryer” scenario, when my intentions are good, but I never actually make it to the dryer because something along the way has taken priority in my brain and redirected my path – unbeknownst to me, of course. I cannot claim responsibility for when my brain shifts into autopilot.

So - this morning I was late for the gym, the unfortunate victim of my snooze button. And though I always pack my bag the night before, invariably I forget something – this morning it was my gym shoes. They had disappeared, only to be found right where I left them. Duh. (Don’t you love those moments when you find what you’ve been searching and searching for, only to remember why you put it there in the first place? It’s all perfectly logical!)

I tossed all my stuff into the car. Then remembered I needed breakfast. Split back up the stairs to grab a banana. Got it! Then – oh yah! – I need to grab a straw (don’t ask). Back down stairs to the car – and there is my husband watching the drama – I think he finds it charming sometimes. Phew – got breakfast – but oh crap, I forgot my lunch.

Hi honey, I forgot my ham…. Zoom past husband and back up the stairs – and HEY! There’s my banana – how did that get there? Oh yah – the straw – must have put the banana down to get the straw. Grab banana – back down the stairs. And there is my husband, patiently waiting to tell me goodbye. Hi honey – geez I’m late. But I got my banana!

Um, weren’t you forgetting your ham?

Back up the stairs….

I want a piglet

Last week, I helped a friend of mine with her son’s third birthday party. Ok, well, help is probably a strong word. All I did was take photos of the party so that she could be free to hang with her son and all pals. And – it was at Sunrock Farm in Wilder, Kentucky.

I’d never been, but seen the billboards posted along the highway. A real working farm where kids can learn about connecting to the natural world. Gotta admit - didn’t care about that. But only one little phrase caught my attention: spring babies are arriving!

Yah – taking photos was great. It’s my love. But when we got to the barn to milk the goats, there was Tina, the potbellied piglet. And I melted. She squealed when I picked her up, but she settled into my arms, warm piglet breath puffing in the chilly air. And I looked at my husband, who rolled his eyes – he knew exactly what I was thinking: Can I pleeeaasssse have a pig? NO. But I want a pig. No. But they’re clean….NO. They can be housebroken. Nope. Why not?? NO. But I want a PIGLET! No. No. Double no, nope, sorry Charlie, no can do, fuh-get about it, get it out of your head, absolutely not.

Please?

I Like Socks

I like socks. Lots of them. What can I say? They make me happy. To me, they are one of the “look something shiny” staples in my life. Gotta say – Target has made my little sock habit quite difficult to kick. But I don’t really see the harm in purchasing $1 Target bin socks by the red basket-full. By season. Holiday. Pet day. Whatever. So what if they aren’t thick and comfy (though some of them are)? They’re pretty! And colorful! And when I wear them out, Target has plenty of new ones in the dollar bins for me to purchase. By the red basket-full. (Is that actually a word? “basket-full?")

this job is stressing me out

Last week, my nephew gave me the nicest compliment about my blog posts. He wrote “your blogs are awesome! whenever im gettin stressed at work i read them and it pretty much brightens my day. lol.” Now – how sweet is that? And he is only 21 – so I consider that a pretty big impression, considering I’m an old lady comparatively speaking. But the last thing he said completely cracked me up: “I thought about blogging myself but it would turn into a giant negative rant every time... this job stresses me out!”

Let me point out the context of the humor: He’s an EOD Tech in the US Army – Explosive Ordinance Disposal. Now – for a long time, I couldn’t remember that, so I just called him a “bomb guy,” or, “you know, the guy who deactivates the bomb thinga-ma-jiggys.” Funny – people always seemed to know want I meant. But, this from the woman who called him PVC, instead of PFC. Huh. Maybe they didn’t know what I meant but just nodded their heads and smiled because they understand that I am slightly deficient…

Anyway, “whenever im gettin stressed at work” just seems like kind of an understatement. Whenever? Really? If I were a bomb exploder chick, I would always be stressed. Is it the red wire, or the blue wire? But – I guess it really doesn’t work that way anymore, and he assures me it’s much more dangerous now. Great.

Anyway, I’ve had one heck of a week with loads of work stress (certainly my stress can’t compare). His comment has been stuck in my head, but I can’t get 10 minutes to myself to write about it. Shut my door, someone knocks. Turn off the phone, I get 20 messages. How can I get people to just leave me alone so I can get my work done? But today, it dawned on me. I have the perfect way to make folks get the hint that I’m stressed and to please leave me alone. I’m taking my cue from my nephew and buying myself an official United States Army, military-issue bomb disposal suit (see above!). How funny would it be to wear that to my office? Knock, knock. Come in!! Door opens. (Insert facial expression here.) And that thought, my friends, brightens my day!

(ps - lower case letters and lack of punctuation provided by my nephew, PVC Ruwe)