Currently driving me bugshit...

Something bit me on the left shoulder, right near the point of the bone on my upper arm. And the thing feels like a bruise, although there's no visible discoloration. It is a little bump, but it's in such an awkward place that I can't really see it. It made my arm ache a bit today, and is bothering me tonight, too. But I haven't had any ill effects from it, so I am guessing it's not going to make me sick at this point. I'll slap some cortisone cream on it when I go to bed tonight and hope that it will be gone in the morning. We do have a number of mean looking spiders in the house lately. Many more in the yard. I've started parking a little bit further from the landscaping etc because if I don't, they build webs between the car and the plants. And after I walk through a web I get to do the spider dance at 6 AM because it's not bad enough to have to leave the house at that ungodly hour.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm hot.
No, wait. I'm cold.
No. I'm hot.
I'm cold.

Sweaty. Hot flashes.

I cover up and uncover about 14 times a night. I wake up because I am uncomfortable. Doze back off, wake up, doze off, wake up... it's nuts.
It happens multiple times each day, too.

I don't even want to consider hormonal treatment, I think we've all heard the horror stories. Although it's inconvenient and bothersome and a real pain in the ass, it's just temperature fluctuations, right?
Gahhhh.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I can't find my necklace. The one I've been wearing for almost four years. On the chain are charms for Matt and Lyssa. I added one for Amy last year. There's also a little ring on it with a black diamond. Eric bought it for me in Ouray, Colorado the day we decided to get married. July 4th, 1980.

While Bob was here, I remember rushing into my room to change my shirt when we were getting ready to go somewhere. I distinctly remember taking the necklace off and putting it somewhere, but I don't remember where. It's bothering the hell out of me. I can replace it, and can replace the charms, too. But I can't replace the ring Eric gave to me. I was on the verge of ordering a new one last week, but I have decided to wait a bit and hope it turns up.
::sigh::
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The weather is changing. I wish for a few more weeks of mild fall temperatures so I can take the kids outdoors, but I am guessing we're just about at the end of Mother Nature's indulgence and getting perilously close to the rainy season. Which is closely followed by mud season. All wrapped up in wind.

I hate the heat, of course. So I am glad for the cooler temps, especially at night. But I would love to have just a little more time...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It seems that things are going faster and faster as I get older. So often I want to yell, "STOP!!" and just... rest. Stop with the crazy running around. I am always home just long enough to mess things up. Same for work. Just long enough to mess things up. It's a pain in the ass.

Anyway, that's most of what's in my brain. I have more, but I need to get a shower before bed. 58 hot flashes* a day does that to a girl.

* that may be a slight exaggeration

Tangling and Ta Tas

So I haven't been drawing very much lately, and I find that I'm missing it.

It's funny, because I haven't really been doing it all that long. Not spending time on it shouldn't be a big deal, but it is starting to nag at me. So I am working on a card for my mom.

Mom's doing really well, she is down to one pain pill a day, in the evening before bedtime. She is able to use her computer and we can chat via IM in the evenings, so it sounds like she's healing up.

I'm sure she'll appreciate the card, seems like not a whole lot of people send mail anymore. I know I don't when I can avoid it. Find a stamp. Actually drive somewhere to mail it. I usually end up mailing things from the office at our school. I have stamps in my office supply box in the back room (I bought them) and that way I don't have to take an extra trip to mail. I managed to send two cards to Tami last week? (I think it was last week) and put the wrong address on them, but she still got them. That's because her mailman sees more of her than any 25 people on his route. She's addicted to letters and pen pals and writing things by hand. If she weren't a little crazy, I wouldn't love her the way I do. :)

Okay, this part for women only.
Or whatever. Hell, I don't care.

I'm working through the whole menopause thing. Irregular cycles and all.

What in the blue fuck is the deal? My nipples feel like someone took a sheet of sandpaper to them. And when it's cold and they are, er, showing that it's cold, they GODDAMN HURT!!!!!

Grr.

I know you didn't need to know that. But I don't want to start looking up menopause symptoms on the internet because by the time I'm done searching this and that I'm convinced I'm dying usually. Screw that.

But if you or someone you know might have a clue about the sandpaper, I'm all ears. Or eyes.

Hormone Hell and Icebergs

Of course the first week of summer program coming on the heels of closing down my regular school year program means that my life isn't stressful enough.

Toss in putting my baby on an airplane last weekend and off to her summer destination, trying to get a lesson plan done for the first week without any sort of book or instructions, hauling a bunch of stuff in my little car to a place with way too many stairs, a son who's packing up to move out of the house in two weeks, a house that's more of a mess every day, I swear, a foot that still hurts like HELL from stepping down wrong on it on Friday and a really crappy attitude.

I figured out on Monday that the biggest reason for the really crappy attitude was hormonal, though. So toss in having to cope with that mess on top of everything else. And 'that mess' (aside from the obvious) ALWAYS includes a migraine. And the medication that kills the migraine and makes me feel kind of shitty in the process.

I'm crabby because things aren't going the way I like them to at work. We have people working this summer who are next to clueless. Which is always nice for everyone else, because that way we can do EXTRA.

Picture me looking just a little pissy here...

And I go to work and joke around with the kids I already know. And get to know the new ones. And introduce myself to their parents. And do little science projects and crafty stuff. And keep smiling.

I keep smiling even when I have aggravated a parent. I aggravated one today by asking for her identification when she came to pick up her daughter.

"But I'm really pressed for time!!" she said. "I left my driver's license in my truck!!"

So I told her, "I'll get Cindy* over here to the door and have her waiting for you when you come back with your driver's license."

She could tell that I wasn't going to let 'pressed for time' be her ID card. As a parent myself, if I had gone to pick up one of my children and the staff there did not know me and didn't ask for a driver's license, I would have raised hell. As long as I've done this job, I still will never understand a parent who gets crabby over being asked to prove they have the right to take a child from my care.

To her credit, she came back with the ID and said that she was sorry that she was in such a hurry, that she did appreciate me making sure she was authorized to pick her child up.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So I froze some colored water in the bottom halves of gallon jugs and in a muffin pan, dumped it all into a large plastic container at the art table and we conducted some experiments in ice melting today.

Coins and Legos and beads and marker and scissors and paper and pipe cleaners... whatever the kids wanted to try.

We used some salt, too, which caused a lot of excitement.
I know they all learned from it.

It was simple, but the kids really seemed to enjoy it. They don't often get to just play while they're experimenting, there's always some sort of test or questions or expected outcome, and it makes them apathetic. They lose that sense of play and discovery. I love giving them open ended activities and standing back to watch them have a good time with it.

Cleaning up the mess isn't quite as much fun, but it was worth the effort. :)

So that's my day.

How was yours?

Same Song, 200th verse

I'm okay. You're probably fine, too.
I just have a headache.

So instead of trying to be coherent I will just put this itty bitty post here to mark my place.

Kids have been gone a week visiting my parents, will be home tomorrow, which is today as this posts.

It's strange to have the house all to myself for six hours a day or so. I can walk to the laundry room after my shower and find clean clothes without anyone being embarrassed, although bare assed is there somewhere.

The other night I was still up at midnight. I was getting ready to go to bed when I heard a scraping sound on the barrier under the front door. It was the same fucking possum who starred in Playing Possum. He came in, looked RIGHT AT ME, smiled evilly and headed for the kitchen.

And in a huge wash of deja vu-ishness, (love making up words) I started yelling for Eric. And eventually he came out of the bedroom in his tighty whities (they were actually black) and looked all over for the little fucker who was eventually located (after about 15 minutes of searching, swearing, searching and more swearing) hiding behind the paper shredder under the kitchen table.

There was a chase. Possum apparently wanted to do some laundry, so went to the laundry room, where he was sidetracked by a case of beer. He hid behind that in a space about large enough for a toothpick, and Eric chased him out of there... back to the kitchen via the scenic route behind the washer, the dryer, and under the hamper.

We'd blocked off the routes he might take here and there and here and there, and left only the route to the front door clear. He had no choice. Went out the front door... chased by a good looking man who was waving his arms and screaming (I am not kidding here...) "BOOGA BOOGA BOOGAAAAAAA!"

And now, we're being held hostage in our house by a possum, because Eric hasn't had time to fix a possum proof addition to the underside of our front security screen. We've had the door up for about 10 years, and this is the first time we've ever had any problems, but once a week is just too often if you ask me, so the front door remains closed.

So I am going to take my headache to bed, hope that the pain eventually goes away (nausea gone at least) and mark time until 7 AM when I can take the migraine meds again. :::sigh:::

same song... another verse

Couldn't get better so it's gonna get worse!

Headaches and hormones both start with the letter 'H'.
And I have a triple dose of both going on.
If I am ambulatory and feel human (hey! That starts with 'h' too!!) then I will try to post some tie dye photos later this afternoon.

Also, I'm hoping to tie some more shirts. And dye them this weekend. Summer program starts on the 18th. Gotta live up to my camp name of Hippie, although I'm really not one. The kids love it, though.

Until then, however (hey! Another H word!!!) I need to get away from the infernal machine and rest.

Same hormones, different month

All that really means is that the migraine monster is lurking on my shoulder, talons buried in my right eye socket, my shoulder and my ear.

I still try to deny that I have a migraine, putting off taking the medication until it's unmistakeable... which means that sometimes I have a headache for an hour or two before I finally give in to the inevitable and take the pill.

After that, it takes about an hour for the monster's grip to loosen a bit. Sometimes it lets go completely for awhile, but usually it just relaxes some unless I follow the Sumatriptan with a narcotic chaser.

::sigh::

Which is what I'm gonna have to do tonight, because the monster is just sitting there, laughing at me.

So I did take some photos of the rest of the tie dyed stuff, and the camera was charged and I know where the cable is so I can add them to my computer.

I just don't feel like messing around with it.

Instead, I'm going to catch a shower before bed and hope the headache goes away enough that I get some good sleep tonight. Last full week of school. Nine more 5 AM mornings. Not that I'm counting. I'll miss my site, 'my' kids, and my routine, but I won't miss getting up at 5.

Feel free to leave me a comment about the worst headache you've ever had. This one doesn't even come anywhere close to my worst, for which I am quite grateful.

I'm looking forward to a busy week, have to get my site ready to close down for the summer, clean out the fridge etc... inventory...

So off to the shower. I'll feel sunburned everywhere the water touches, which is a side effect of the medication. But I'll be clean and relaxed and hopefully will sleep like a brick.

I'm tired. And I'm chilly when I'm not having a hot flash.

Because I am a weather weenie.

Remember when you were a kid and you could go out without your coat and you didn't even care?

My mom used to have a FIT when we wanted to go out trick or treating and didn't want to wear a coat. She didn't understand that we wanted to display our costumes and didn't care if we were cold. (Didn't care? Ha. Didn't even notice.)

She didn't like us walking to school without a coat, or even riding the bus. I don't know if we just didn't feel the cold or??? but I was never bothered all that much by the cold as a kid.

Now, I usually wear TWO coats. I dress in layers, too. I peel them off and add them as necessary during the day. I have periods of physical activity while I'm working and living my regular day... setting up the program, putting things away, wandering here and there. I get warm. Then I get chilly. Then warm again. Hormonal activity. Fun, fun, fun.

My favorite time of the day is when I get into bed at night and snuggle up to my flax filled heat packs. I microwave them for a total of seven minutes, two at a time, redistributing the seeds each time. Heavenly.

Unless I get too warm and toss all my covers aside. And fall back asleep. And wake up freezing my noonies off.

It cracks me up to watch the kids I work with. When we go outside, some of them bring their coats, but by the time we get to the playground (a distance of about 100 feet or so) the coats are off and soon decorating the chain link fence between the blacktop and the bark.

Now MY kids don't leave their coats out because they're extremely responsible, and the ones who might forget are reminded by the other kids. We also bring in the coats that the kids from recess leave outside.

The lost and found is located in our cafeteria, so we bring them in and add them to the collection. So far this year, we have brought in 78 coats that did not belong to anyone in our program. 78 coats that didn't get left out overnight in the rain or snow, or over the weekend in the wind/rain.

There are a lot of really expensive ones in the mix, too. Brands that I can't afford for myself, let alone for a kid who would outgrow it in six months. Of course, I'm a Goodwill Hunter, so things are different for me.

I know that if I spent 100 bucks on a coat for one of my children and he or she didn't come home with it, though, I'd be at the school looking in the lost and found pretty darn fast.

It amazes me how much just... sits there.

I always tell the rare child who comes to search for his or her coat while I'm there that they shouldn't call it 'lost and found' they should just call it 'lost'.

Just before the holidays, the lost and found bin was brought to the weekly assembly for a few weeks and some of the huge collection was taken home by the owner.

Then, during the holidaze, the custodian bagged up what was left and took them to Goodwill.

You already can't even tell that it happened, though. There are probably 50 to 75 coats on the rack now.

So is it just me? Wouldn't you want to know where the hell your kid left his/her coat? Make them go get it and bring it home?

I wonder if when they get older the kids will be like me and be cold all the time except when they're hot.
:)

I don't love the constant temperature changes, and wonder when they'll pass. Took me forever to figure out that I was having hot flashes. I've heard them referred to as power surges, but they don't make me feel all that powerful, really.

Tami says it's too bad we can't harness that energy.
I have to agree with that.

Whisker Glasses and the usual Sunday afternoon mess

DISASTER HAS FALLEN!!!

I. broke. my. goddamn. whisker. glasses.

The super, heavy duty ugly-assed industrial brown pair I kept on the bathroom counter for those elusive stray eyebrows that keep growing outa my chin.

This is important, people. Don't scoff. Without them, I will be driven to distraction. I'll find a little pokey thing in my chin, I'll know it's there, and I won't be able to stop messing with it, but I won't be able to see it to yank it out without my glasses.

Eric isn't home right now, he's off watching the Stupid Bowl with some guys he knows, so I can't ask him for the electrical tape.

The man who always has my back... and sometimes my front?
NOT HERE WHEN I NEED HIM.

My GOD what's next?


My new assistant, Michelle*, goes for electrolysis. She said the chickie who pulls her eyebrows etc told her that pulling whiskers out is a bad idea, that it "releases hormones" which only make more hairs grow.


Sorry, but that doesn't pass the common sense test for me. I think that if you pull them out yourself, it means you're not paying someone else to do it. And that someone else would rather have your money than tell you the truth.

And if that's all it takes to make hair grow, why is Rogaine still around? Why is the Hair Club still making money?


I think we can certainly find parallels to that idea in other aspects of our lives, yes?


Doesn't matter, since if I find one I won't be able to yank it out.
:-D


I had grand plans for the day on Sunday, but kept getting derailed.

First, I made myself get out of bed about 9, even though my usual operating mode on a day that I don't have to go somewhere is to sleep or at least try to until about 10. I get so tired during the week that it's like a little gift I give myself.


Got up and sat owlishly in front of my computer for awhile, catching up with everyone's blogs and my emails.


Occasional hugs were given as people wandered past or I got up and drifted into the living room. We're a huggy family. Kids are all growed up but still affectionate. One more point of pride for me, actually.


Eric hadn't decided yet if he was going to the stupid bowl party, and was weighing pros and cons. Lyssa and I had salmon for dinner on Saturday evening, so that was my breakfast and lunch for the day. I ate that around 11, I think.

Managed a shower, a couple or three loads of laundry and to sweep up some unknown spooge from in front of the refrigerator. I hate that, having a clean spot on the floor.

Eric made some salsa, planned to stop at the local grocery store and grab some tortilla chips and a couple plastic bowls for it, and took off about 2:45.


I conducted the science experiment I'm planning this week  Elephant's Toothpaste and decided that the kid-friendly version isn't nearly as much fun as the adults only one.

I messed with it a bit, and have decided to get a large pan from my oven drawer and use four small bottles at once, each one colored with a different color of food coloring. Hopefully it will be a fun thing for the kids. Messy but safe.

The adult version of the experiment looks like a blast... literally.
But potassium iodide isn't a non-toxic ingredient, and when you're working with kids in a school especially, that's a requirement. Also, I want them to be able to touch the resulting foam we make, and using yeast as the catalyst will ensure that they can touch it, find out that it's warm (giving me the opportunity to talk about chemical reactions that cause heat and teach them a huge word for an elementary kid, exothermic.)

I'm considering getting potassium iodide and doing the experiment again at home just because I never really grew up and I like things that sort of blow up/expand/foam/make a scene.

I didn't get all the things found that I need to haul into work before Wednesday. Hell, I didn't even get all the things I needed for Monday. And that's gonna have to happen before bedtime, because otherwise, I won't have time to pee between shifts. A recipe for disaster.

There is still laundry going around in the dryer.
Still a load in the washer waiting for the dryer to finish.
I'm glad I don't have to go down to the river and bash my clothes on the rocks to get them clean. I'm also glad I didn't live during the days when people bathed once a week or once a month whether they needed it or not. Ick. A shower is actually my substitute for coffee, since I don't do coffee. I get up, stagger into the bathroom, and lean helplessly against the wall in the shower while hot water pours in my face until I can stand upright.

Takes me about 25 minutes to get from shower to dried, dressed and tying my shoes at the kitchen table. So I have that cushion of about 20 minutes to finish getting my eyeballs in and manage to be awake on the road rather than going on autopilot.

Last Wednesday morning on my way to work was coon day. I saw three of them crossing the road (against the light, of course) near a busy intersection, and two more crossing about a mile later. It always makes me sad when I see one lying next to the road. Those little guys and possums, too. I hate it that little critters like that get hit by cars. :)

So I am going to get the things ready for Monday. We talked last week about disguises and everyone is supposed to bring his or her own. They're going to make an ID card, complete with fingerprint and photo. Lyssa and I went to the dollar store and found the things I'd need for that.

I have bunches of activities planned, but I haven't finished writing the actual lesson plan we're doing, so I need to manage that in my spare time on Monday morning, too.

So I will TRY to take some photos that I can show you with my camera. I don't photograph the kids, obviously, but some of the things we do.

I'm looking forward to all of it, but apprehensive because when I plan a big thing like this week, I want everything to be perfect. My lists have lists.

Okay. Off.

Why I look this way

Man. Between the hormonal migraines, the hormones etc... it's been a hell of a week so far, really.

I don't sleep at night, I just... die. And then, instead of waking up in the morning, I reluctantly rise from the grave, clods of dirt and little rocks falling from my clothing as I shamble, zombie-like to the shower, turn on the hot water and lean precariously against the wall, muttering and mumbling and trying to remember how to breathe.

It really didn't help that I had a migraine on Monday morning and had to take another dose of migraine medication around 11 pm Monday night, either.

I don't know what that stuff does to me,(except for actually working on the migraine pain) I really don't, but I feel sludgy and absent and unanchored and just... not right.

So I don't think as clearly as I'd like to.

Instead of packing my backpack on Tuesday, I just grabbed my purse. Which doesn't hold much, but I didn't think I'd need much for a four hour or five hour shift.
And of course, that little pocket in the middle of my backpack that zips securely shut and holds certain feminine products along with the all-important migraine medication was here at home with the rest of the backpack.

And of course, I needed that little pocket on Monday.
Oh, and I needed migraine meds, too. Although not in that order.

So I called Matt and had him bring me a migraine pill. Hell, if I'd waited another hour or so and found out I needed those other supplies, I woulda just called and told him to bring me my backpack. Which a coherent person probably would have thought of.

So let's see here.

Last week I had a sore throat and felt like shit but sounded fine.
This week, I feel fine and sound like shit.

Overall, I really like that better, but it's damned hard to catch a child's attention from across the gym in a hurry when one doesn't have a voice.
What voice I have is raspy and weak and I constantly have to clear my throat. It's driving me bugshit, but I have no one to complain to.

So we were on the playground on Tuesday afternoon. Elaine* asked me if she could draw my portrait. She's 10, I think. Possibly 9. And I said yes, and she proceeded to give me an art lesson. She explained how you divide the paper into quadrants when you're drawing a person's face, it makes it easier to get the proportions right. When I apologized for the 10th time for moving because I was still responsible for the other 26 kids out there on the playground, she said that it wasn't necessary for me to hold still, that she was pretty good at drawing people even when they move around a lot.

I dunno. I think she caught me as I really am.

The Tunnel of Doom Squished Me

My doctor prescribed Ativan to help me get through the MRI.

And get through it I did.
I was put into the tunnel head first, and my arms were squished to my sides. The tech told me it was a 'hugging tunnel'.

I could not move. You'd think I'd be nervous. Generally I would. My mind would make leaps like, "Wow, this must be what it feels like when you're about to be shot out of a cannon."

Instead, I laid there all jammed into the machine going, "Meh."

Couldn't even muster up a mild dislike or impatience.

Just... existed.
Had no idea of how much time was passing.
Had no real discomfort other than a couple places that itched and could not be scratched.

Got through it fine, but was VERY sleepy when I got home. I had time for an hour and a half nap. Good choice.

'Cause the FIRST half of the day, I was reminded that I am still a woman. And as a woman, I am subject to the whims of hormones and their varying effects. For me, those effects include a monthly migraine.

This one hit me about 3:20 AM. And I wasn't supposed to take any more Sumatriptan until 5-ish, 12 hours from the previous dose.

But by 10 minutes to 4, I could no longer take the pain. I was getting sicker and sicker, too.

So I had Eric get a pill for me, and when he brought it I washed it down with a sip of water. Into my empty stomach.

I got up about 4:40 because I was feeling sicker and sicker, and thought maybe a shower would help.

And I got out of the shower, started to reach for my towel, said, "Oh shit I'm gonna throw up," sat my dripping wet ass on the toilet because I can't kneel down anyway, and grabbed the garbage can to puke into.

It was good I was sitting where I was. When my body decides to toss ballast, it does so happily and without regard to sensitivity to smells or worry over insults to my dignity.

I don't get to choose which orifice empties the most enthusiastically.

I got rid of what was bothering me. The last bit I threw up was bloody, not unusual due to the fact I took the damn medicine on an empty stomach. I won't make that mistake again.

So a lovely start to the day.

But I made it to work, felt fairly good by then, made it through the MRI, had time for an hour and a half nap, and made it back to work in the afternoon.

My cell phone beeped at me to let me know I had a message.
It was the doctor from the Comp Clinic. He had the results from the back MRI.

They look 'clear'. No disc troubles, no nerves pinched etc... everything looked good.
So a bit of decent news, yes?

So now I'm going to bed as early as I do on a work night, because it's been one hell of an exhausting day and I really need some sleep.

Tomorrow I'll make you smile by telling you a new kid story. Or two.

I love my job.

What's so damn funny?

So at The Fifty Factor the other day, Joanna

posted a link.

It went to a video of a very funny lady giving the invocation at a dinner at a care facility/assisted living.

Skip ahead to about 1:15 unless you want to hear the introduction and prayer.



I left Joanna a comment that my growing older thoughts were a bit more earthy... and that I was sort of afraid to share them.

But then I thought why not?

If you're anywhere near my age (50 last time I checked) or older, you will understand.

If you are younger, well, you have some things to look forward to.

If you're female, you get even more!


I can be brutally honest. You did notice, yes?

Which I think SOMEONE should be.

Not that we can hold off the aging thing with mere words. Just warning us about upcoming events won't stop it from happening... sort of like when your parents and your teachers told you not to drink or smoke anything because you might um, well, yeah and you drank and smoked and behaved irresponsibly.

More than once.
Or was that just me?

Speaking of smoke... I was coughing for more than a week. And I coughed a bit up, it got stuck, and I gagged and hacked a little more. Usually this produced something that I hid in a tissue and never spoke of again.

Well, until now.

It also produced about two teaspoons of pee.

How is this fair?! At least it's because of the cough, though.


I know someone who leaks a bit most of the time. She gets tired of smelling like pee, and has taken to wearing a pad.

Great.

She wears a little mattress between her legs 24/7, has to change pads and wash away pee smell all the damn time.

Here's another gem.
If you're a woman, your breasts will sag.

Having babies makes it worse, but even if you don't, you will still have it happen. By the time you're, oh, 50, (a figure I pulled from the air) you won't want a bathrobe that ties at your waist because it will be uncomfortable and look really stupid tied across your boobs! You'll probably opt for wearing a jacket instead of a robe in the mornings/evenings.

Smart choice.

And yeah. Unwanted hairs. I've mentioned them before.

I was pretty sure I was keeping up with them. My fingertips are sensitive, and I can feel the first bit as it pokes up through my chin.

As soon as I find one, I go yank it out. Now I've heard people say, "Wow, that must really hurt!" but it doesn't. Or it does a little, but it's so satisfying that it makes the temporary discomfort worth it.

The actual process is complicated, involves strong reading glasses, enough light to get a sunburn and a specific pair of tweezers. 

I've explained it before.

I went to the search field on my blog just now and looked up 'whiskers'.
Do the same.
Because I am too lazy to link to all those posts and refuse to pick out a favorite.
The others might feel left out.
Besides, it's funny.
Or at least I think so.

But the whiskers are mostly white now.
And a brand new development, a few weeks ago, while driving to work, I felt a hair tickling my neck. I brushed my hair back, but it was still there, bugging me.

So I felt with my fingers and found a wispy hair about an inch long hanging from the left side of my chin! It was a fucking inch long!! DO YOU BELIEVE THAT SHIT?????

I wrapped it around my fingers four times and pulled it out while I was driving.

It was more than long enough for me to get a grip on, sadly.

And every time I look in the mirror now, I search carefully for the longer, wispy ones that aren't so pig bristly.



Stuff hurts. I find my joints are a little achy now and then, but it's nothing compared to some other men and women I know.
Speaking of gravity...I have it on good authority that if you're a man, you will eventually have, um, a saggy sack. And occasionally, your light saber will fail to light. You'll have to use  the force .

I know that staying a little more active is good, but when 'they' tell you that, they don't explain where to find the time to do so.

When something happens, like a fall or a surgery, a 50 year old person does not bounce back the way he or she did at 20.

Totally unfair.

I begin to understand 'youth is wasted on the young.'

So let's see. What have we covered here?
Gravity takes its toll... check.
Saggy boobs and other parts... yup.
Occasional (I love this euphemism) Light Bladder Leakage Yeah. Covered that.
Go read at the link for even more exciting information!
Hairs. Here and there. Eyebrows going wacky, ear hairs, nose hairs..

I did not mention Haireola yet, but yeah.
That too.

And aching and pains and grumpiness. I am grumpy because I'm getting older? Or am I feeling older because I'm grumpy?

Parts that fail occasionally.

What haven't I covered? Anyone?

Oooh, I know.
Hemmorhoids!
They're not just a girly thing. I know at least two men who suffer from them. One of them had to have surgery to fix them, he was a truck driver and could not sit to drive long distances anymore.

What the hell? That's not fair either. Sheesh.

I know women who've had a lot of trouble with them, too. Thin women, fat ones, women of average size... some have had children, some have not. It seems to be another one of those aging things.

Here's something the Preparation H commercials and most of your friends won't tell you, too.

Oh they'll talk about the itch. The burn. (remember the Tucks commercial where they put the match out by wrapping the flaming end in a little round pad?) The swelling.

But never once have I heard them talk about the REAL hazard of 'rhoids.

Dingleberries in the airlock.

Please. More sugar.

I know you've all read the lists out there about what PMS really means.

Some are geared toward the 'I hate males' thing... PMS= Putting up with Men's Shit..
Plainly, Men Suck...

Or the 'I hate everyone' model... Pass My Shotgun.. Potential Murder Suspect...

Well, yeah, there are lots of lists out there.
I've decided today on my final answer, though. It's up there at the top.

Please. More sugar.

I have the munchies in the worst way. I want sugar. Cookies. Salt. More sugar. Sleep. More sleep. Can NOT get ENOUGH sleep.

And most of the symptoms of actually, er, riding the cotton pony... except the actual appearance of said pony.

And it's starting to annoy me.

And could things get going on a Friday night? Or a Saturday morning? So I can go to work on Monday in a different frame of mind?

Oh hell no.

And one other thing.

WTF is the deal with changing the time on me again?

Only the people who "represent" us (hahahaha) can change it.

Maybe PMS means Politicians May Suck.

Huh.

The migraine was resistant to the medication.

That's a euphemism for "The migraine monster laughed wickedly as the little loincloth-wearing guys in the bucket brigade ran by, sprinkling medicine and doing their mindless-yet-rhythmic-and-strangely-compelling little dance to appease the brain gods."

Or, put simply... it didn't work for shit.

Woke up a little before five on Friday morning to flashing yellow and silver lights in a weird geometric pattern that just... almost made sense. I couldn't focus on it long enough to determine what it meant, though. Strange.

I took a migraine pill, which took the edge off long enough for me to work on Friday morning. By the time I was done and headed for my doctor's appointment, the headache was back in its full, nauseating glory.

I was escorted to a yellow exam room,(first time I've been in that one) and the combination of yellow shiny paint, fluorescent lighting and the faint antiseptic smell was simply stunning.

I turned off the light in the room, adjusted the blinds and closed my eyes. That was somewhat helpful.

We decided to leave my medication dosage the way it is for now. I feel so much better. My anxiety is just about gone.

It's pretty strange, really. I wonder if this is how people usually live and I just never knew that.

Then, I came home and went to bed. Slept four hours. The aura woke me up again. Strange, spiky writing that I could not read. Flashing lights in a dull, sulphurous yellow pulsed at regular intervals.

Pretty weird.

I rested until I could take another migraine pill. I started to feel better, then had to run for the bathroom to barf.

::sigh::

However, after that, the headache really backed off.

I rested a little longer and could not figure out why I was still feeling so shitty. Then I realized I had not eaten for 24 hours. I had a couple protein drinks, but food had not had any appeal.

So I ate a meal.

As I write this it's 9:30 PM and I'm getting ready to go back to bed.

Right now I have pressure in my head but no pain.

However, because of the medicine's effects, I feel like I've been kicked all over by a little giraffe with big poofy feet and a bad attitude.

So here's hoping Saturday will be a little better.

:)

Oh. And Tracey? There's a little linky button at the bottom of this post editor window that says 'post options.' If you click on it, you get a little menu to choose from. And on the right is 'Post date and time'. Under that is "Automatic" and "Scheduled at".

If you click on 'scheduled at' you can choose when you want your post to appear.

I hope that made sense. I'm still only semi-coherent.

MCD and Me.

Now I didn't know it... but this whole last week was PMS week.

All together now... "It's called PMS because MAD COW DISEASE was TAKEN!!!"

Otherwise it would be abbreviated MCD.

Yeah.

I'm in interesting hormonal territory.
Things are moving along in directions I don't really like much.

For example, my cycles are getting closer together.

Great.

I can get taken by surprise on occasion, as you will know if you clicked on that link. Click on it. You know you want to. Go on. You only have to read half of it. The first half. And it's funny. So read it.

Then come back. I'll wait.

So yeah. I got taken by surprise again on Wednesday afternoon.

But it does help explain the migraine that's flapping around my head and threatening to take root and the fact that I'm just a teeny bit edgy.

As in screaming at other drivers. (Windows up. No gestures.)
Crying over stupid things. (Like close harmony in music. And seeing kids be nice to each other.)
Craving something salty. (Had a handful of sunflower kernels and put the jar away but omg, did I want more?? Oh yeah.)

And let's not forget wishing for solitude and a lifetime supply of clean laundry because WHY THE HELL AM I THE ONLY PERSON WHO CAN WASH IT, DRY IT, HANG UP THE THINGS THAT WRINKLE AND PUT IT AWAY!!!???
HUH???

What the hell is the matter with everyone?
HUH????!

And. Could you fill up the fucking soap dispenser?
And when we're out of toilet paper in the bathroom because you used the last of it, would it KILL you to bring in another roll from the big package that's stored in the laundry room.

Oh, and grab some paper towels. They're in there, too. Right next to the TP and the FUCKING LAUNDRY YOU DID NOT PUT AWAY.

I long for the days that a surprise like this would be a reason to celebrate another month with no babies.
Hmph.

I'm sorry. What were we talking about?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So I had this big post planned for tonight. But I'm too tired to write it.
So I'm going to bed.

Won't promise a great post any time in the future.

I got the report from my PCE. It says I'm not faking. And that I'm not at 100% yet. (No... really? Huh. Go figure.)

And that I can use 'crtches, cruths, cruthchs, and crutchs.' Never once does it mention crutches.

Interesting, don't you think?

So next step is to contact the orthopedic doctor's office and set up an appointment to sign off on the shoulder and transfer care to a different doctor so I can continue with PT. Because I'm not at 100%. Not even close, really. It's not been an easy thing, that's for sure.

I'll be seeing Dr. Dirtball on Friday and we'll talk about sleep troubles and anxiety and sleep troubles, as well as trouble sleeping and being just a teeny bit anxious while lying awake and NOT SLEEPING.

Oh. And scheduling a mammogram for me soon.

Can my life get any more exciting??

Mysteries solved!!

Yep. Sometimes the important things DO get figured out.

My friend Judy
has solved a couple mysteries lately... although the first one was solved a couple weeks ago and I did not tell you about it at the time.

Remember Amanda's pants??

Judy found a label on her laundry room floor. In Colorado. It was from the inside of the waistband of her daughter's jeans. It said Amanda.

So she consulted the Google Gods.

It's a Gloria Vanderbilt thing.

Don't ask me who Amanda is or was. But I have some of her pants. Apparently thousands of other women in the US and possibly around the world have them, too. It's a whole clothing line!!

I'm glad I can stop worrying about Amanda and whether she is gaining or losing weight. A load off my mind.

:)

Judy, being the bright person she is, figured out something else for me tonight.

I haven't been sleeping well. Which I thought was related to PMS, which I have bad this month.
(It's called PMS because Mad Cow Disease was taken.)

I was talking to Judy via IM, and lamenting the lack of sleep and whining about my damn knee.

When I told her brb, then came back and explained that I'd found another damn chin hair and PULLED IT OUT while I was gone (whiskers sprout like little springtime grasses from my chin during ALL SEASONS of the year.... dammit) she laughed at me!

And suggested that I'll probably sleep better tonight for having pulled them.

So yeah. I guess it's the whiskers keeping me awake.

Probably because they get caught in my pillowcase as I turn over.

Thanks, Judy.

Here's another thing (or five) dragging me down...

This isn't a good time of the month for me.

I'm heading into the week-long screaming hell that some euphemistically call PMS week.

(Because women in a murderous rage need an innocuous acronym... and because Mad Cow Disease was already taken.)

So I'm less rational than usual anyway, but damn.

I'm really down again.

You know... feeling hopeless, sad, grumpy, disgruntled, out of sorts, bad-tempered, sullen, cantankerous, truculent, crabby, sulky, crotchety, dissatisfied, grouchy, peevish, grumbling, petulant, cross, querulous, surly, testy, irritable... I could come up with more, but I think you get it.

(If you don't, email me and I'll try to help you understand.)

First, the refinance thing. Jesus. What a pain in the ass. I talked to our guy on Friday, and I'm hopeful we can resolve all the shit this week, but it's been awfully stressful for me. I don't need more stress. It makes me edgy. Keeps me awake at night. Wakes me UP at night, too.

I'm tired of sleep deprivation. (no pun intended)

Between the surgery recovery and my natural need for a little extra sleep and the sleep deficit I ran on from April until last week, I'm still tired.

I didn't have a full night's sleep in that entire time. Before the surgery I woke up five to eleven times every damn night feeling like someone was sticking a hot wire into my knee.

It wasn't the worst pain I've ever had, but it just got so old. Dragged me down a little, I think. Made me feel discouraged.

Now I've done sleep deprivation before, of course. Matt didn't sleep through the night for a whole year, and Lyssa for about three months. But this is different.

I don't seem to have caught up on my rest yet.
I'm actually a little impatient with my progress on that front. It pisses me off that the only guarantee of a full night's sleep is to take some kind of medication.

I am officially off the pain pills. Don't want to start taking them for sleep. Terrible idea, slippery slope.

But sometimes when I'm awake at eleven, and one and three and four and can't seem to find my way back into dreams, I look longingly at that fat bottle of oblivion pills sitting conveniently next to my bed.

And my knee still hurts. It does not hurt like it did before the surgery, and I feel some improvement every day (except when I first wake up in the morning and ask it to function...) but after I've been on it for any length of time, I have to stop and put it up and let it rest.

I hate being limited in mobility. I can't even go for a walk unless it's to the mailbox and back, or through the grocery store. My knee hurts enough still that it's not a possibility to go hiking or to get down and scrub the bathroom floor or the tub, and just forget things like trying to put the pots and pans away in the low cupboards in the kitchen. I'm not supposed to be kneeling or squatting... and even if the doctor hadn't expressly forbidden it, it wouldn't be possible because
It.
Fucking.
Hurts.

And it pisses me off that I'm not 28 anymore and able to heal overnight. I'm 48 and not getting any younger. Only seven years away from being able to live in an old-people trailer park, if that should be my desire... and by the time I reach that age, I may not be able to afford the trailer and I'll be living in a van down by the river. Or maybe in a rusted out sedan, with flowers growing where the tires used to be.

Who knows?

With a foul black cloud of anticipation hanging over me, I'm dreading the medical bills that (surprisingly enough) weren't already in my mailbox when I got home from the hospital. I know it won't be cheap, and I utterly loathe myself for dragging my family down like this.

Yes, I know it's not like that, and that I didn't mean to hurt myself, and that none of them blame me or anything, but it's how I'm seeing it right now. It's shitty timing for sure.

Speaking of self-loathing, I had lost about 20 lbs with the Yoga that I stopped doing at the end of April when I hurt myself. I found out when they were completing paperwork and made me step on a scale at the hospital that I've gained every single one of them back.

Every.
Single.
Fucking.
Pound.

You hear ignorant people on television or in public say things like, "My god, why doesn't she just stop eating." or "If I looked like that, I'd do something about it."

Of course if the solution was as easy as 'move around more and eat less' we'd all be thin and healthier as a nation.

I don't feel any hope anymore that I'll ever, ever get smaller.

None.

It's almost enough to make one hope for a year's worth of stomach flu or an intestinal parasite.

And in case you were wondering, I do know that my little stuff that's going on isn't all that important in the general scheme of things, and that there are people all around, probably within just a few miles of me who have things a lot worse. A lot.

I get that.

But I still feel crummy and negative today.

Oh and

You know how some women talk about PMS and 'that time' and say cute things like how when they lie on their side that monthly bloat feels like a little puppy lying next to them?

Well, I do almost the same thing.

Except my companion is more like a manatee.

That is all.

In a suburban kitchen somewhere...

Mom begins mixing a batch of brownies.

Hormonal teenage girl, hearing spoon tapping bowl as the eggs get mixed into batter calls from living room, "Mom? What are you doing?"

Mom takes bowl to doorway of living room, and tilting it toward aforementioned hormonal teen says, "Does this give you an idea?"

And teen says, "Ohmygod. Mom, you're my hero!!"

Mom then puts the batch of brownies in the oven, and delivers a teaspoon full of batter to teen in living room.

Teen is very happy.

I, er, Mom says something like, "I could have saved all that batter for myself, you know."

And teen replies, "If you had, I'd have run you over with my menstrual cycle."

Sharing my head with the Hormone Hag

I've been in a state of high pissoff for a few days.

Hormones.

At least during this stage of my life, I recognize the cause of my foul mood and don't think I'm going over the edge into the abyss. Back in my mercurial teen/young adulthood, I sometimes wondered about my sanity.

Little things that ordinarily would make me shrug and/or just laugh make me so frustrated instead!

For example...

I bought a brand new adjustable desk chair at Goodwill a few months ago. June maybe? It's a really nice chair, adjusts in many different ways and fits very well at the desk.

Well, now it's bent somehow. It still works, but it's not comfortable (makes my back and butt hurt) and I'm going to have to replace it. Next week, I won't be grumpy about that, but this week? Total Grrrr.

On my chosen route to work, there is a large intersection where I have to turn left. The turn lane starts back from the intersection at quite a distance, and splits from the regular lanes of traffic by the width of at least one lane. This is necessary so that cars turning left won't smack the cars turning left from the opposite intersection. A solid white line separates the turn lane from the buffer zone, and the buffer zone is striped diagonally with white.

Yesterday, as I coasted to a stop at the light, a woman in the lanes of traffic that were supposed to go straight decided at the last possible second to turn left instead. She whipped her car over to the left, through the CLEARLY MARKED buffer zone and into my lane without even looking over her shoulder to see if anyone was in her way while she did her ILLEGAL activity. I stood on the brakes and swerved quite a bit to avoid hitting her.

The stream of invective that instantly poured from the depths of my soul would have amazed and impressed you, I'm sure.

I lowered the volume when I noticed that the windshield was starting to melt and that I was spraying spit on the steering wheel.

I did not honk at her, or gesture or do anything physical, but since the light was red and we had to wait at the intersection, I had a really difficult time not getting out of my truck, walking to her car, yanking her out by the hair and kicking her in the shins.

I kept up the muttering and swearing and growling until the light turned green and she zoomed off like a maniac.

Again, something I would usually laugh off. We all get a brain fart now and then and do something stupid on the road. I knew it was unintentional. Certainly not personal. Pissed me off anyway.

So when I get like this, there are other things I don't like, too. I'm so very tired. I don't wake up in the mornings, it's more like rising from the dead. I feel sludgy and slow until noon. I have to force myself to do things around the house, and sometimes it's only the guilt of not getting anything done that keeps me functioning.

I have been eating things that are much better for me than my usual fare for three weeks. I chose not to weigh myself before I started, feeling that last time I started a better plan, I was once again fixated on the scale instead of on what I eat and how I feel.

Well, now it's been 22 days, and I'm pissed off that I didn't weigh myself so that I could see if I am making any progress. I mean, I know I am, but I don't know I am. Don't worry if that doesn't make sense. I wrote it and *I* can't make heads or tails of it myself.

Friday, I will start feeling better. Saturday, I will be back to my more human form. By Sunday, I'll be someone else.

Can't wait. I find it hard to live with me right now.

Another thing that makes me go hmm

Back in April I finally asked my doctor for some kind of migraine medication. It was an act of desperation. I've suffered from these headaches off and on for 30 years but I finally got sick of having a four to six day headache once a month.

She prescribed Imitrex. She wrote me a prescription and gave me some samples to try.

It was a couple months before I actually took one. I was afraid of the possible side effects, (which could include death, which would really suck if it occurred, say, in front of a group of kids...) and since I did not know if I would have an adverse reaction to it, I could not take it if: I had to work in the afternoon, had to drive, had to be awake and coherent for any reason... well, I couldn't find the right time to take it.

Finally one night the time was right. I didn't have to go anywhere the next day and I had a screamer of a headache.

Cue the announcer with the deep voice.
"The rest, as they say, is history."

I got a pill and washed it down with half a bottle of water.

I laid down and started waiting to die.

Within an hour, the headache was gone.

There are some side effects for me, though. I feel a sense of energy and well-being about an hour after taking a dose. I get a little shaky and things are a little surreal. Then, about two hours after I take it, I get a cold sweat. (I know, eww). It's still worlds better than spending six days taking Excedrin every few hours, holding my eyeball in when I cough, and wiping weird, thick tears from the corners of my eyes when the headache is really bad.

Now in the last four months or so, I've learned that it's usually one migraine, two Imitrex. Take one, and twelve hours later, take one more because the headache is coming back.

That's usually sufficient until the next (deep voice again) ATTACK OF THE HORMONES.

If you've been reading here long, you also know that Imitrex is prohibitively expensive. When I finally filled the prescription, it was $222.00 for nine doses. Too much for me. A huge dent in our budget, and one I don't want to make again.

Now the company that manufactures Imitrex still holds the patent in the US. This means they can set the price as high as they want to, and that no generic will be available. This is set to change in 2009, but I'm not holding my breath.

So I decided to order the generic form from Canada. I can get twelve 100mg doses of Sumatriptan for $127.00. A lot less than buying the actual brand name drug here.

I finally ordered it this last week, but it won't be here right away.

I was down to one yesterday morning when I woke up with a headache. As the day wore on, it got worse and worse. I ran to the bathroom twice, thinking I was going to barf but (yay) I didn't.

About 3 in the afternoon I couldn't stand it anymore. I got out my last tablet. In my reading on the internet, and in the prescription literature, it says not to cut them in half, but doesn't say why. I did a search and tried to find out reasons, but could not.

So I cut my 100 mg dose in half, took half, wrapped the other half in foil and went to bed. Two hours later when I woke up, the headache was gone... and get this... I didn't get the sweaty side effects! I don't know if the euphoria/surreal thing hit me since I was asleep, but I don't have that weird and washed out feeling I usually get after taking it.

So if my headache comes back, I'll take the other half and hope for the best.

So do me a favor and search, will you? Maybe you're better at it than I am. Why does the literature say not to cut the pill in half? And I'm guessing here that perhaps the full dose is too much for me?

Meanwhile, send good thoughts to the postal service. I want my medication in time for next month's attack of the hormones.