This past week, we went to southern California to go to Disneyland. We went for two days, about 14 hours on our feet each day. The first day L did not want to go on many rides and Rob didn't feel well, and it was hot and more crowded than I thought it would be. The second day there was nothing Leila wouldn't go on, and it was super fun. It cost a couple hundred bucks for L to ease into things, but this is not what the title of this post is referring to.
What I am referring to in the title, the sacrifices that we make for these ankle biters, is not the endless days spent at theme parks, or the day-long car trips to get to these theme parks; I'm talking about hemorrhoids.
If you have ever been pregnant, you know that hemorrhoids are an almost inevitable byproduct of this most feminine state. Lucky is the woman who gives birth without having to deal with one of these little honeys. After I gave birth, that whole area burned like a mother-effer, but it was the hemorrhoid, not the other thing, that was giving me the most trouble. If you are one of the lucky people out there who has never experienced a hemorrhoid, via pregnancy or a diet devoid of fiber, allow me to 'splain: It feels like you have a triangular tortilla chip stuck in your corn hole (no maize pun intended.) TMI? Okay, moving on.
Normally, my little friend is very manageable and I spend very little time thinking about him (because you know something this irritating is male.) But for some reason, on this trip, my bowels were acting very strangely indeed, and that tortilla chip was extra salty. I hadn't brought any of my miracle witch hazel pads with me, since I hadn't anticipated any problems, but I spent a few days (yes, DAYS) debating whether to go to the local CVS and stock up.
Unfortunately, there is no CVS at Disneyland, and that was where I was when I just couldn't take it anymore. I was walking funny, and was very distracted and unhappy. So this is what I did. I started by making Rob ask a popcorn vendor where one might go for an embarrassing personal problem. He directed us to the first aid station, which is really like a little urgent care unit right behind Main Street. There were some girls getting bandaids for the blisters on their feet, and a mom holding a feverish toddler with an ear infection (I felt for that mom, too. In addition to her probable hemorrhoid, she had come all the way from Canada to sit in a hotel room with a cranky, sick baby.) And then there was me. I asked the nice lady behind the counter if she had any hemorrhoid medication. I died inside a little. She said, no, but she called some other place and they had some Preparation H. She directed me to a coffee shop further up Main Street. Why A coffee shop has this particular thing and the first aid station doesn't is beyond me.
So I went up to the coffee shop and asked if this was the Market House, and the nice Disney lady said yes, what could she help me find, and here's how it went:
Her: "Are you looking for something in particular?"
Me: "Its too embarrassing."
Her: "Deodorant?"
Me: "No, worse."
Her: "That time of the month?"
Me: "Even worse. I need some prprshun H."
Her: "Oh, sure, we have that!"
Bless that woman for being discreet and relaxed and not mocking me. I'm sure she mocked me later with her friends, but who can blame her? It was $11.91, and I had exactly $12. Thank God.
The nearest bathroom was between Frontierland and Adventureland, and that was where I was further humiliated, even though I was alone in a stall. By the time I stepped off the Jungle cruise a little while later, I was a new woman. Thank you, Disneyland, and you're welcome, Leila.
I would also like to take this opportunity to welcome the long-awaited and much exalted arrival of Little Reed, who hopefully did not leave any hemorrhoids behind, and who will bring tons of love and joy and trips to theme parks to his wonderful and deserving parents. Congratulations!
Monday, May 2, 2011
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
7 hour Boondoggle
Last week was L's spring break and I decided to take a breather from my usual mode of planning absolutely nothing and letting her stay in pajamas all week, and put some fun stuff on the calendar. She went to the zoo, roller skating, and then we took our annual day trip up to the snow.
Normally, Rob comes along and does the driving and takes over on the slopes when my knees give out, but this time he had to work, so my friend, E, said she would drive and we would all go together; me, L, E, and E's son.
The kids were all dialed in in the back seat. Playing games on their devices, then watching movies on the DVD player and they hardly noticed when around two thirds of the way there it started snowing. We were aware of the possibility, but you know how those meteorologists are liars and just make things up to torture me, like telling me its going to be 80 when its really 95, and telling me there's a 30% chance of rain when the sun is out. 50% chance of snow showers usually means, "Clear skies! Have a great day skiing!" but this time it actually snowed.
The kids thought this was awesome. They'd never seen snow falling from the sky before, just piles of it on the ground when their parents had respected the weather report and driven up there under blue skies. But E and I are California girls. In spite of her Ford Explorer, we were nervous about driving in snow, having to put on chains, or getting snowed in up there. To the more experience snow person, this was probably nothing to get in a dither about, but we were going 40 and white knuckling it.
Long story short, we didn't ski or tube, but we did let the kids play in the snow between the lodge and the parking lot for an hour, and then we drove home. We left at 8 in the morning, were home by 4:30, and had a delicious lunch at Denny's. Then the kids played Wii for the rest of the afternoon because 7 hours of games and movies in the car wasn't enough.
I still had fun, though. E and I had a nice long chat, and my burger was good. And I crossed Wednesday off the spring break list.
Normally, Rob comes along and does the driving and takes over on the slopes when my knees give out, but this time he had to work, so my friend, E, said she would drive and we would all go together; me, L, E, and E's son.
The kids were all dialed in in the back seat. Playing games on their devices, then watching movies on the DVD player and they hardly noticed when around two thirds of the way there it started snowing. We were aware of the possibility, but you know how those meteorologists are liars and just make things up to torture me, like telling me its going to be 80 when its really 95, and telling me there's a 30% chance of rain when the sun is out. 50% chance of snow showers usually means, "Clear skies! Have a great day skiing!" but this time it actually snowed.
The kids thought this was awesome. They'd never seen snow falling from the sky before, just piles of it on the ground when their parents had respected the weather report and driven up there under blue skies. But E and I are California girls. In spite of her Ford Explorer, we were nervous about driving in snow, having to put on chains, or getting snowed in up there. To the more experience snow person, this was probably nothing to get in a dither about, but we were going 40 and white knuckling it.
Long story short, we didn't ski or tube, but we did let the kids play in the snow between the lodge and the parking lot for an hour, and then we drove home. We left at 8 in the morning, were home by 4:30, and had a delicious lunch at Denny's. Then the kids played Wii for the rest of the afternoon because 7 hours of games and movies in the car wasn't enough.
I still had fun, though. E and I had a nice long chat, and my burger was good. And I crossed Wednesday off the spring break list.
Snow angels in the parking lot
our view of the kids from the lodge. Awesome parenting...
Monday, April 18, 2011
Banjo is my Bitch!
People, I may have solved the whole birth control pill mystery, but this remodel thing is sucking up every last bit of creative juice I have. I have gotten whole educations in kitchen cabinets, appliances, flooring, windows, sky lights, you name it.
I'm in a bit of a holding pattern now, though. I may have to go check out some tile, but there are no decisions I need to make or research I need to do, so I can finally get back to the blissful world of laundry and making dinner. Awesome.
I made a big push yesterday and cleaned up this joint, so I'm not as busy today as I thought I would be. The laundry machines are workin' hard, and the dust is scared of me, as well it should be. This afternoon I have to help L with her local history project that we failed to do over spring break. Just completely forgot about it. Probably because I was busy looking at pictures of built in media cabinets on the interweb.
You wanna know what I did yesterday? I had been having trouble with my roomba (named Banjo.) He started making a ka-chunk ka chunk sound and then would tell me I needed to clean the brushes even though the brushes were completely clean. I retired him for a while, I just didn't want to deal, and yesterday I said to Rob, "Could you run Banjo, see if he makes the sound, and if he does, fix it?" Sometimes, even I, feminist, former breadwinner and drip system installer, wants the nearest available male (or lesbian if she possesses these kinds of skills) to fix things.
I really should know better.
He did turn on the roomba, it did make the sound and tell him to clean the brushes, which he did, twice, even though they were already clean, and then he did some yoga. I got out of the shower expecting to see him hunched over the thing, screwdriver in hand, tinkering, or at least at the computer doing a little research on what could be going wrong, and instead I found him doing warrior pose in his shorts.
So I did the internet research, I took the whole thing apart with a screwdriver, I cleaned the little gears that the internet told me to clean, with a tweezer! and then I put it all back together and SUCCESS! Some lesbian Rob turned out to be...
I'm in a bit of a holding pattern now, though. I may have to go check out some tile, but there are no decisions I need to make or research I need to do, so I can finally get back to the blissful world of laundry and making dinner. Awesome.
I made a big push yesterday and cleaned up this joint, so I'm not as busy today as I thought I would be. The laundry machines are workin' hard, and the dust is scared of me, as well it should be. This afternoon I have to help L with her local history project that we failed to do over spring break. Just completely forgot about it. Probably because I was busy looking at pictures of built in media cabinets on the interweb.
You wanna know what I did yesterday? I had been having trouble with my roomba (named Banjo.) He started making a ka-chunk ka chunk sound and then would tell me I needed to clean the brushes even though the brushes were completely clean. I retired him for a while, I just didn't want to deal, and yesterday I said to Rob, "Could you run Banjo, see if he makes the sound, and if he does, fix it?" Sometimes, even I, feminist, former breadwinner and drip system installer, wants the nearest available male (or lesbian if she possesses these kinds of skills) to fix things.
I really should know better.
He did turn on the roomba, it did make the sound and tell him to clean the brushes, which he did, twice, even though they were already clean, and then he did some yoga. I got out of the shower expecting to see him hunched over the thing, screwdriver in hand, tinkering, or at least at the computer doing a little research on what could be going wrong, and instead I found him doing warrior pose in his shorts.
So I did the internet research, I took the whole thing apart with a screwdriver, I cleaned the little gears that the internet told me to clean, with a tweezer! and then I put it all back together and SUCCESS! Some lesbian Rob turned out to be...
Monday, April 4, 2011
The Fog Lifted, The Angels Sang!
I figured it out, my darlings, I figured it out.
I don't know if you've noticed, but I've been a little out of it lately. Uninspired, grumbly, tired, irritable, no zeal, no zest, no nothin'. I haven't wanted to write this blog, and that hasn't happened in the whole TWO YEARS I've been doing this. Those last few blog posts were dragged out of me by sheer duty to y'all and fear of losing you, and I started to wonder, Is this it? Am I done? Do I actually have nothing more to say? The very idea that I will ever be quiet is ludicrous. My yap is a force of nature bigger than myself, and I will never shut up. Even if I'm boring your to tears, even if you've heard this one before, I always have something to go on and on about without the use of commas or personal filters.
So the other day, I'm hanging with one of my homeys, and all I wanted to do is go home and sit on my sofa and cry, and I figured out whats been afflicting me:
The pharmacy changed my birth control pills and sent me generic! You wouldn't think that a little, blue, low dose pill could reek this much havoc, but mine is a delicate system, all kept in balance by these little honeys, and 18 days of the wrong thing sent me spiraling downward! I haven't taken a pill since Thursday, and, man, I am a whole new woman! Or, at least, I'm the woman I was a few weeks ago. If I was a whole new woman, I would have picked the model that likes to exercise and has smaller feet.
Its great to be back, people! I am awake! I am smiling! I am engaged with humanity! I'm doing laundry, and going grocery shopping, and it doesn't suck as much as it did last week! And I wanted to write again, which is truly a relief. I've never had a hobby that has stuck until this blog, and I was really afraid that the well was dry. But its not! Halle - freakin - lujah!
Okay so here's the thing. I keep saying "Have a good one!" to people. Bagger at the grocery store: "Have a good one!" Mailman: "Have a good one!" Daughter: "Have a good one!" Every time it comes out of my mouth I cringe. My mother used to say this to me as I was leaving for school in a sad attempt to be cool, and now I'm saying it.
Today I actually said, "Have a great one!" Must be another effect of the wrong pills; last week I wanted you to have a merely good one, this week I want you to have a GREAT one. I have to stop, but it keeps flying out of my face! What is a good substitute? I don't want to say "Have a nice day." It just sounds snarky. So what? I actually mean it when I tell the bank teller to Have a good one. I'm a nice person. I'm sincere. I sincerely want her to have a good one. A good what, though? Day? Lunch? Commute? Nooner?
I am accepting recommendations. Have a good one.
I don't know if you've noticed, but I've been a little out of it lately. Uninspired, grumbly, tired, irritable, no zeal, no zest, no nothin'. I haven't wanted to write this blog, and that hasn't happened in the whole TWO YEARS I've been doing this. Those last few blog posts were dragged out of me by sheer duty to y'all and fear of losing you, and I started to wonder, Is this it? Am I done? Do I actually have nothing more to say? The very idea that I will ever be quiet is ludicrous. My yap is a force of nature bigger than myself, and I will never shut up. Even if I'm boring your to tears, even if you've heard this one before, I always have something to go on and on about without the use of commas or personal filters.
So the other day, I'm hanging with one of my homeys, and all I wanted to do is go home and sit on my sofa and cry, and I figured out whats been afflicting me:
The pharmacy changed my birth control pills and sent me generic! You wouldn't think that a little, blue, low dose pill could reek this much havoc, but mine is a delicate system, all kept in balance by these little honeys, and 18 days of the wrong thing sent me spiraling downward! I haven't taken a pill since Thursday, and, man, I am a whole new woman! Or, at least, I'm the woman I was a few weeks ago. If I was a whole new woman, I would have picked the model that likes to exercise and has smaller feet.
Its great to be back, people! I am awake! I am smiling! I am engaged with humanity! I'm doing laundry, and going grocery shopping, and it doesn't suck as much as it did last week! And I wanted to write again, which is truly a relief. I've never had a hobby that has stuck until this blog, and I was really afraid that the well was dry. But its not! Halle - freakin - lujah!
Okay so here's the thing. I keep saying "Have a good one!" to people. Bagger at the grocery store: "Have a good one!" Mailman: "Have a good one!" Daughter: "Have a good one!" Every time it comes out of my mouth I cringe. My mother used to say this to me as I was leaving for school in a sad attempt to be cool, and now I'm saying it.
Today I actually said, "Have a great one!" Must be another effect of the wrong pills; last week I wanted you to have a merely good one, this week I want you to have a GREAT one. I have to stop, but it keeps flying out of my face! What is a good substitute? I don't want to say "Have a nice day." It just sounds snarky. So what? I actually mean it when I tell the bank teller to Have a good one. I'm a nice person. I'm sincere. I sincerely want her to have a good one. A good what, though? Day? Lunch? Commute? Nooner?
I am accepting recommendations. Have a good one.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Harumph
This remodeling thing is either the best idea I've ever had, or the worst. I am not sleeping well, and I think the initial rush of adrenaline has worn off and now I'm just annoyed. I'm learning all kinds of things about building codes and how my house doesn't meet them and I'm really afraid that after all this hope, my plans will be dashed by codes and permits and I'll be stuck using tongs to reach my food in the upper cabinet where it lives for the rest of my life. I'm very grumbly. And tired.
Today is Home and Hearth Day, which is my euphemistic way of saying my house is a complete mess, there are a pile of bills that need to be paid and laundry that needs to be folded and groceries that need to be acquired. No pencils and tracing paper, no decorating shows, no trips to cabinet show rooms, none of it.
You know what's great about unpaid bills? For a brief period, there's a lot of money in my bank account just sitting there. It makes me feel like I could go shopping and get new plates or something. Its like a little fantasy lottery win. And then I pay the bills and the money is gone and the fantasy is crushed.
Can you tell I'm crabby? But spring seems to be here, and I have marigolds to plant, and I bought some strawberries to eat so maybe things will look up. I have to go to bed earlier, too, that would help...
Today is Home and Hearth Day, which is my euphemistic way of saying my house is a complete mess, there are a pile of bills that need to be paid and laundry that needs to be folded and groceries that need to be acquired. No pencils and tracing paper, no decorating shows, no trips to cabinet show rooms, none of it.
You know what's great about unpaid bills? For a brief period, there's a lot of money in my bank account just sitting there. It makes me feel like I could go shopping and get new plates or something. Its like a little fantasy lottery win. And then I pay the bills and the money is gone and the fantasy is crushed.
Can you tell I'm crabby? But spring seems to be here, and I have marigolds to plant, and I bought some strawberries to eat so maybe things will look up. I have to go to bed earlier, too, that would help...
Monday, March 21, 2011
Abe Lincoln
Normally, I don't like to write about dreams I've had. Its boring to everyone but me. No one wants to hear about anyone else' dreams, unless they're in them, and especially if they're in them naked. But this dream I had last weekend has stuck with me all week because of its sheer dorkishness, so bear with me.
I dreamed that Rob and I were having a conversation about Abe Lincoln, and I was saying something about him in the past tense or whatever and Rob said, "What are you talking about? Abraham lincoln isn't dead! Why would you think that?" and then I reflected for a moment and was all, "Oh my God I'm so stupid! Of course he's not dead! What was I thinking?" and we laughed and laughed at how stupid I was.
When the alarm went off, I was sure Abe Lincoln was alive, and that there was no reason he shouldn't be. I even did partially awake math in my head to figure out how old he would be, and, at first, the math indicated that he could indeed be alive, but as I opened my eyes and got more awake, I realized he would at least 200 years old. So, no: probably not alive.
Fast forward to Friday night, a full week later, when Rob and I went to the movies (we saw The Lincoln Lawyer*, ironically) and there was a preview for a movie called The Conspirator about the assassination of Abe Lincoln, and I just had to put my head in my hands and shake my head at my actual, not dreamed, stupidity; Abe Lincoln was assassinated, you idiot! Of course he's not alive! Jeez!
No wonder this dream stayed with me all week! My addled 40 year-old brain was trying to get me to remember one of the most significant events in American history! God, I'm stupid.
Last night I had a dream that one of my au pairs was working for Charlie Sheen. I wont go into it, though. You're welcome.
* The Lincoln Lawyer, starring Matthew Mconohay (I know that's not how you spell his name, in spite of my stupidity) is okay. Its a clever courtroom drama in which Matthew M. plays himself, and Marisa Tomei is oddly made up. Not sure it was worth a regular admission ticket, it felt like a really good TV episode, but it was fine, and I got to eat a Chipotle burrito bowl beforehand which was, as always, delicious.
I dreamed that Rob and I were having a conversation about Abe Lincoln, and I was saying something about him in the past tense or whatever and Rob said, "What are you talking about? Abraham lincoln isn't dead! Why would you think that?" and then I reflected for a moment and was all, "Oh my God I'm so stupid! Of course he's not dead! What was I thinking?" and we laughed and laughed at how stupid I was.
When the alarm went off, I was sure Abe Lincoln was alive, and that there was no reason he shouldn't be. I even did partially awake math in my head to figure out how old he would be, and, at first, the math indicated that he could indeed be alive, but as I opened my eyes and got more awake, I realized he would at least 200 years old. So, no: probably not alive.
Fast forward to Friday night, a full week later, when Rob and I went to the movies (we saw The Lincoln Lawyer*, ironically) and there was a preview for a movie called The Conspirator about the assassination of Abe Lincoln, and I just had to put my head in my hands and shake my head at my actual, not dreamed, stupidity; Abe Lincoln was assassinated, you idiot! Of course he's not alive! Jeez!
No wonder this dream stayed with me all week! My addled 40 year-old brain was trying to get me to remember one of the most significant events in American history! God, I'm stupid.
Last night I had a dream that one of my au pairs was working for Charlie Sheen. I wont go into it, though. You're welcome.
* The Lincoln Lawyer, starring Matthew Mconohay (I know that's not how you spell his name, in spite of my stupidity) is okay. Its a clever courtroom drama in which Matthew M. plays himself, and Marisa Tomei is oddly made up. Not sure it was worth a regular admission ticket, it felt like a really good TV episode, but it was fine, and I got to eat a Chipotle burrito bowl beforehand which was, as always, delicious.
Friday, March 18, 2011
This is the Stuff
It is windy and cloudy and there is a chance of thunderstorms, and a 100% chance of rain this afternoon. I freakin' love this weather!!!! Just walked the kid and the dog in the wind, and it is just the best. Don't have a lot on my plate today, so I'm just going to snuggle in, watch some decorating shows, read Oprah, sleep, and be generally sloth-like. To all those people who are bitching and moaning because they can't ride their bikes or go running or hike 12 miles, you don't know what's good.
I love when the wind rattles my house and makes my chimney howl. I have a fluffy dog, wooly socks and half a leftover chocolate cake: what else does a girl need?
In other news, I had steak tar tar last night, with a raw quail egg on it. It was delicious. Lately I feel so bloated, though, I feel like I just can't bend at the waist. I have eaten out a lot (its birthday season in my family) but I've preparing for these outings by eating smoothies and light food the rest of the day, often skipping a meal, so I don't think my calorie intake is any higher than usual. I just feel like there's a blown-up balloon in my belly.
Hey, does anyone reading this have and Ikea kitchen that they can honestly review for me?
Have a great weekend!
I love when the wind rattles my house and makes my chimney howl. I have a fluffy dog, wooly socks and half a leftover chocolate cake: what else does a girl need?
In other news, I had steak tar tar last night, with a raw quail egg on it. It was delicious. Lately I feel so bloated, though, I feel like I just can't bend at the waist. I have eaten out a lot (its birthday season in my family) but I've preparing for these outings by eating smoothies and light food the rest of the day, often skipping a meal, so I don't think my calorie intake is any higher than usual. I just feel like there's a blown-up balloon in my belly.
Hey, does anyone reading this have and Ikea kitchen that they can honestly review for me?
Have a great weekend!
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