I Promise For Real This Time...

I have been saying that there are more posts coming and have alluded to them all over the place. So, where are they?

They're coming.

I don't want to make you sit there and think "Oh great, we sit around and wait for posts that she promises and for all we know the only thing up and coming is a post about her love for walnuts (I like to open the shell with an old school metal nutcracker and try and figure out why I bother digging the meat out when I can buy it shelled- but I enjoy the zen of the process) or why her kids are the bestest and funniest (they are though of course) or how the middle American states are a Republican party ruse meant to garner more electoral college votes but they don't actually exist (this one my older sister came up with in high school and for a while seemed kind of believable, until I had to fly to Kansas City, Missouri- they do exist, Republican or otherwise)."
Is that what you were thinking?

Well- I feel it is only fair that I share with you what some of my forthcoming posts are regarding:
My awesome organic heirloom tomato and fresh picked apple salsa recipe.
Mini-golf.
The trickery of town recycling (I know- you can hardly contain the excitement!)
My (once again awesome) zucchini blueberry bread recipe.
The search for a good primary care doctor in one of the greatest medical communities in the U.S.
How to sew a tutu on the fly.
Good reasons not to tempt fate by saying "My child hasn't really talked about god yet..."
The dangers of apple picking without proper safety equipment.
How to beat Martha Stewart in a centerpiece fight.

Now, not all of these are done so hold your horses. Some are but I haven't attached the pictures so I haven't posted them yet. And of course I will continue to blog without advanced notice, preparation or use of protractors and graphing calculators. I just wanted to put it in writing that I am indeed working on posting more and have a thing or two to say about a thing or two (I like to say that). So consider myself pledged unto thee as a true and faithful blogger to the best of my abilities and at least for the next month. I'm only making promises one month at a time. I'm crazy but not crazy enough to plan that far ahead.

After all- come November, I could be in Missouri cracking walnuts old school and swapping kid pageant pictures and report cards with the head of the GOP.

Here is a picture of me that is badly in need of
photoshop (sleep much?) that
seals unto you my promise to be a better, more faithful blogger.

Open up and say ahhhhhhhh....

I had an endoscopy yesterday and they let me take home pictures. Hehehehehe. Ewwww. I know I shouldn't share and I totally won't and I'm not even going to go into the topic right now because I'm tired but I kind of want to show you.

Don't you kind of want to see?

No? Okay, so admittedly once I saw them there was a pang of regret for having asked but the chance to say "Hey Doc- can I get a copy of the shot of my esophagus?" is pretty rare. I promise I won't share.

I was just bursting at the seams with the knowledge that I have the pictures and I needed to put it out there. Okay- no more sharing.

Now onto your day and enjoy your lunch.

I and Screamy

My daughter has made friends with some newcomers to the neighborhood. I can't see them and they are according to her "the size of a pea." Their names are I and Screamy. I'm trying really hard not to read into that. She has had imaginary friends for a little bit now- ever since my physical health issues amped up the interference with our daily lives. Not so much the Mommy-on-the-floor or couch again but the Mommy-missing-dinner or Mommy-missing-library because of appointments. She is no dummy. I am gone a lot.

In some ways you would think this would be awesome because of all the extra time with dear old Dad or Grammie and Zadie but apparently parents are not interchangeable. So enter stage left her new friends. I think the first was Lomaid. Then Lateet. Yeah- that one makes me giggle too. Especially when for a little while she decided it was Daddy's new nickname. Nothing shrieks of masculinity like being called "La-Teet." I am spelling it in a generous way but I really want to spell it the other way because it is much funnier.

Now we have I and Screamy and a host of others who come and ago. They have names like Kapoofaca and such. I don't really understand but I am not 3 1/2. As background I should mention that after much deliberation and list making the wee children decided to name our two African Dwarf frogs "PJ Truck" and "Humavark." Again- I am not 3 or 5 so what do I know about names.

Other than the frogs we are expected to be very respectful of her friends at all times, taking them places, holding the door for them, making room at the table etc. Mind you- they are the size of a pea. She talks to them and being proper imaginary friends they talk back to her. Most of their talks seem quite serious but she assures me they are very funny and tell good jokes. My son has no imaginary friends of his own but he interacts regularly with Screamy and the gang. I think he likes to stick to the tangible when he can.

My brother-in-law is a pediatric neuropsychologist and I routinely beg for free advice like "is my kid crazy because she's afraid of spiders?" or "do you think he reads too much and therefore has a disorder that we are making worse by letting him go to the library?" It is even rumoured that on one ocassion I may have asked why if my IQ was what it was I couldn't speak 7 languages or solve complex physics equations and the like. If you choose to believe the rumour then the answer may have been a suggestion that perhaps I lacked motivation and follow-through which would explain MANY MANY things including all the classes I dropped out of in school mid-semester... Anyway- he is confident my daughter is just fine. But in the middle of saying that he did have to stop and consult with a six-foot tall rabbit.

It is of no surprise that my little lass came up with her peepsios when she did. Developmentally she is right on the money, her imagination has started to race ahead of her and she can rip a yarn like no one's business, Do people say that? Rip a yarn? What the hell does that mean? Is that a real saying? Maybe I should check my imagination or get a dictionary of antiquated slang that only people like me find use for. I wonder if there is one. Hmmm. Hello eBay.

Oh yes- the arrival of my little girl's friends also coincides with changes in the household as I mentioned above and what I believe is her new understanding that in the fall my son will start kindergarten and she will not. He was in preschool last year but we had lunch together, dropped him off, she took a nap and then we picked him up. I don't think she missed him that much. Loves him buckets but missed him in her sleep- not so much. But now she knows he'll be gone all day and she'll be stuck with Mommy all day who may be Art Project Mommy, Sick Mommy, Park or Museum Mommy, Appointment Mommy or just Crap There Isn't Any Damn Diet Dr. Pepper Mommy. It's all me. I am fortunate to be a singularly minded crazy person but that doesn't mean that for a 3 year old you might find comfort in numbers. Even imaginary, oddly named, miniature friend numbers.

Lastly- because it I have been awake for too long today and I can't vouch for the cohesiveness of this post I want to mention that she often has to chase her friends around the house for extended periods of time calling after them quite loudly. They sometimes get caught and put in time out. In case someone who reads this ever witnesses an event like that in my home- I want to set the record straight that we generally don't chase the kids into captivity. We barely even use time out. Why use time out when we can just ask Lateet to have a sit-down talk to hash things out and clear the air. Parenting by imaginary friend proxy. I think I read about it in a Dr. Sears book...?...

The Only Doctor For Me

I truly do not like my doctor. That is my primary care doctor. But I am tethered to her by a million strings that are all knotted up like a 16 year-old's stomach on prom night. Yes I will find a new one. No really, for sure this time, I swear it. Honestly. This is the last straw. See my back- I'm the camel and it just broke.

Damn- I just called myself a camel.

Truthfully, I am not going to find a new doctor right now because of all those invisible strings. I have to get them untangled and then untied and then I can move on. But geez Louise! When did medical care get so complicated? What happened to the good old days of Dr. Saffer with his creepy clip-on koala attached to his stethoscope and the little glass finger pricker blood taking thingies? I'd even go back to the therapist in high school who always offered me coffee even though I was 15 or so. I always refused until finally I gave in and she got me hooked while she sat cross legged in her hippie skirts with her too-long-for-her-age hair and looked dopey. Although actually- I kind of should be looking at that fondly because I do really, really like coffee.

Anyway- you would think that living just a short ride from Boston I could get the best medical team I wanted but as it turns out- they all gave up and turned to research or teaching. You have to do everything piecemeal. A doctor here, a doctor from over there, ooh- I'll take the specialist in the sporty red tie... It is exhausting.

Of course it is clear from this that I have the need of a medicine man or woman, shaman or voodoo priestess or maybe 10. So that must mean I have a bit of a headache, or a tummy ache, or a slight tickle when I cough. Let's run with those concerns and leave the others out of it for now. So I guess I must be a bit tuckered as is. Which leads me to think I might not have a bucket of time and energy for calling doctors, looking for people who also have tummy aches who might have good docs, calling the insurance company, doing interviews and then picking up and moving from one medical trailer park to another. Damn.

Thus I am deciding that I will search for only one doctor and although he remains somewhat elusive, he is often seen at the local drugstore/pharmacy so I might be able to get a hold of him. I actually only assume it is a him. But he is my friend, my go-to-guy, my pick-me-up and brush me off, my kick in the pants and my Calgon take me away all in one.

Yes- as you may have guessed I am speaking of the highly praised, sweet and effervescent,

Diet Cherry Dr. Pepper.
mmmmm

There is of course his precursor regular Diet Dr. Pepper, but my allegiance has been sworn (although Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper would have been my first choice but he seems to have been placed into witness protection as their is no sign of him in the area... I yearn... ) and though my doctor is often unavailable when I need him mostly due to a plot against me by the local grocery stores- I know that the drugstore will get my back most of the time.

Still- he doesn't do lab tests and I am pretty sure I can't trust him to accurately assess liver function test results. But he has yet to be an ass to me . I'll see how small they make stethoscopes.

You may have guessed I have had a few too many Diet Cherry Dr. Peppers by now. Imagine if I drank what my posts would read like...

Physical Therapy a la Dante

Ok so- PT person from HELL. Yes, physical therapy- I'm not going to get into it in depth at this moment but today's appointment is aquatic therapy for a chronic pain condition in my back that has been fluffing my pillows and filling me with joy since 2001. Back to the physical therapist (PT)-

I swear I was told 9:15 and being the diligent person that I am and totally psycho about being early I came up from the hotel lobby 15 minutes early. (Interjection: to get to the pool I have to go through schmancy hotel and super-mc-fit-fit athletic club first. Not cool.) She comes out to get her 9:00 patient, sees me and says "You know you're not supposed to be here until 9:30 right?" I say: "Really? Oh. I thought it was 9:15." Curtly and with pursed lips- "No-ope... 9:thiiirty- we never do it on the quarter hour. Always half hours. 9. 9:30, 10, 10:30. 11."

Apparently by me - on what is only my second appointment and my first PT after the evaluation- by me coming early she assumes that I am only of nominal intelligence and do not understand where the half hours fall on the 24 hour clock. Thank god I have her to elucidate!

I say again: "Oh- okay- I guess I just thought they said come 15 minutes early."

"No-oo-ope." Grrr. "Not unless it is for an evaluation or you need to get changed." I know she is eyeing my swimsuit under my button down shirt. "Okay- no problem," I say. "I'm fine here- happy to wait and read for a while."

"Gree-ea-eeeat. Better get the name of whoever you spoke to so they can be corrected and this doesn't happen again. (long dramatic pause.........) Right." And off she goes. I am sure her 9:00 patient loved the show and time suckage. Makes me feel super awesome about hopping into the pool with her and letting her bust my ass for 30 minutes.

As a comparison my "dry land" physical therapist (different issue) and I talk about her moving in with her boyfriend and how great a holistic approach to medicine is and how the patient should be the driving force behind their own care. When she did finally move in with her paramour- I bought her a housewarming plant. The official flower of South Korea. And she asks me for tips on its upkeep and feels the need to confess when she doesn't water it and a bloom falls off.

This gal here at the rooftop pool clearly lost whatever bloom she may have once had.

Now on with your swimmies and jump in!