Hey, remember that time I broke my hand on an apple and turned into a cyborg? Good times, man. That was almost a year ago, now. It was year ago next month, in fact, though I wasn't thinking about that at all this week. After the surgery I did months of physical therapy and then also kept going back to the hand surgeon for rechecks because my hand remained kind of weird and deformed for a LONG time, prompting him to keep saying, "Let's have another look in a couple of months." And then I'd go back and he poke and prod and finally my hand mostly looked like a hand again and he said, "Okay,...
I am cranky. [I am going to spare you a thousand-odd words about said crankiness, because really, the only thing worse than someone cranky is that cranky person trying to justify said crankiness. I HAVE MANY FEELS. Mostly they feel like throwing tantrums. Being a grownup often sucks, it turns out.] Know what's good for an advanced case of poormeitis? Baking. Yay! Here, I made you some healthy cookies you can eat for breakfast. You could make some for yourself/your kids and say thank you, if you wanted. Or if you wanted to pretend to be one of my kids, you could just eat them while glowering...
When I wrote about our trip to Atlanta on Monday and all of the traffic we encountered, I included the tidbit about desperately needing to pee to illustrate how very unpleasant the whole ordeal was. When I reread what I had written, I had a moment of, "Do I really need to talk about how much I had to pee?" Because: pee. (I sure am saying "pee" a lot, here.) But I left it, because what's a little pee between friends? Also, WOW was that uncomfortable in the extreme. Well HEY, GUESS WHAT! Today I learned that if you wait a really long time to pee when your bladder is full, that can give you a...
This morning Chickadee had an appointment at Emory for chapter 593 in Mystery Rash: Where Is It Now, And Which Med Student Hasn't Seen It Yet?, and because getting into Atlanta on a weekday is always an enormous clusterfuck, we left nearly three hours before her scheduled arrival to be ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN of getting there on time. Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahahahahaha. My optimism! It never fails to slay me. There's this whole time window calculation with heading into the city, too, where if your appointment is too early you get stuck in rush hour GOING, but if it's too late you get stuck in rush hour...
Otto and I enjoy a fairly egalitarian relationship, I think, which is mindfully arranged through cooperation, compromise, and the fact that we both really like each other and try hard to be helpful to one another rather than being lazy or assholes. I don't see us ever writing a marriage guide, or anything ("Step 1: Don't be an asshole. Step 2: Remember Step 1!"), but it seems to work pretty well for us. Sure, I do the bulk of the cooking, but that's because I'm home a lot more often than he is, and also because I really enjoy cooking---NOT because I'm female or because he can't or won't...
Bad news: The pool is still leaking. Good news: The Pool Guy comes to see us EVERY DAY! And he gets to spend a lot of time IN our pool! Bad news: He doesn't seem too happy about it, plus Monkey is very bitter that the Pool Guy is the only person who's actually been swimming in our pool so far. Good news: There is not, in fact, a hole in the new pool liner. You know, the SECOND new pool liner. Bad news: What it SEEMS to be is some poor patching work between the steps and the pool concrete, and the Pool Guy keeps "fixing it," but we are still losing water. Good news: We're currently losing...
We knew, not even very far into it, that fixing the pool was yet another Curse Of Casa Mir project, doomed from the start. What could go wrong, would go wrong. Obviously. Much went wrong. So much went wrong, they had to redo the liner entirely, which meant the first one was taken away and a second one installed last week. EVERYTHING IS FINE NOW, they assured us. LOOK THIS LINER IS PERFECT, NO PROBLEMS, PLEASE DO NOT PUNCH ME IN THE FACE, they said. (The "please do not punch me" part was possibly implied. I never threatened to hit anyone. Not out loud, anyway.) They came while Otto was...
We went up to the mountains to pick apples on Saturday. So pretty! Idyllic! I kept cautioning Monkey about the uneven terrain at the orchard because "all we need now is for someone to break an ankle." HAHA. No one broke an ankle; we picked a bushel of apples, and the boys ate some fried pie. Back at home, I made an apple crisp and several batches of dried apples. Sunday night I was working on a second crisp and mounting the LAST FREAKING APPLE when my apple peeler/corer doohickey decided to slip off the counter, and I can't tell you exactly what happened because I really don't know, but...
I kind of left you hanging, this week. I'm sorry. I would tell you all about it, but I'm currently still in the "I hate everyone and everything" phase on several fronts, so give me a few more days to return to some semblance of humanity. In the meantime, here's a dog: She says she absolutely was NOT sleeping in the sun when I crept up on her, and she was NOT attempting to lick the drool off her whiskers when I insisted on taking her picture. Also, I love how even she is giving me the hairy eyeball. GET IN LINE, LICORICE.
