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NaBloPostingOnTheFly

It's iPhone posting from the elementary school parking lot for me. My days lately have been filled with that akward 23 minutes of time between places I have to be so I have been spending lots of time sitting in the truck just waiting. This would not be the torture it is if there wasn't something suspicious going on with my car battery , but there is and if I even use it for the time it takes to fill the truck with gas then the motor will not turn over when I try to restart. So there is no radio for me and I have been too lazy to switch my music from my old about to die any minute now lap top to my new can not be moved and therefore cannot be dropped computer so I have no good tunes on the iPhone either.

Went to the gym this morning and had my last workout before the pig out. I wonder if I burned enough calries in spin to drink a bottle (or three) of wine during prep time tomorrow. What could be more lovable than a tipsy cook control freak who refuses all not dish washing related offers of help? I mean really!

My plan for today is to chop peel mince and slice my way through each recipe so that tomorrow I can cook like they do on tv when everything has been prepared premeasured and set out for the recipe. I am going to be so tirol an act of utter selfishness I agreed to photograph an 11 oclock game tomorrow. This means I have to be more prepared then usual. Prepared is not a word most would conjure up when describing me. Chaos would be more accurate.

PS Ooops, saved this as a draft at noon today- almost forgot to post! Heaven forbid! NoNoNo!

NaBlowMyMind

Grandma has been having trouble lately. The OFH doc (who I believe needs an attitude adjustment) attributed grandma's ever worsening pain to hemorrhoids. I saw grandma in the bathroom and being somewhat familiar with the roid myself (three kids remember?), decided that grandma's pain was above and beyond a simple matter of even a bad case of the roids. So I went and made an appointment with the butt doc that I know because there was a time when I ate some sunflower seeds and got too lazy to spit out the shells few times and ended up with a big scratched bleeding intestine which brought me to the butt doc. And once you (or is it I?) go to the butt doc they believe you need to come back every so often and have these snaking camera check ups, especially if you are of Eastern European Jewish decent, because apparently my people are prone to cancer of the colon. So, let's just leave it at ... I know the butt the doc and he sure as heck knows me. He was so happy to see me today he gave me a big kiss on the cheek (Face cheek! You pervs!)

I told him what I had observed with grandma and what I was fearful of and he began the exam.

I get grandma over to the funky butt raising exam table and what I have known all along and slightly feared comes true. I am going to have to be in the exam room with grandma. While her butt is examined. At first I get to stand by her head and I am happy about that. I whisper soothing things into her hearing aids. (Like, "Cut the screaming already! Grow a pair and take it like a man!" Kidding!) Mostly I lied and said "Almost over, you're doing great, don't forget to breathe, yadayada...."

The good kind butt doctor must have been teaching this morning because he began explaining everything that was going on and what he was thinking and worse, what he was doing. Now, around the house, I have taken to covering my ears and shouting TOO MUCH INFORMATION with my parents, (because OMG it's all body functions all the time around here!) but thought better of that technique with Dr. Butt. I just swallowed hard and listened. I kept the crying on the inside.

Then Dr. Butt goes, come around here I want to show you something. I said "me?" like maybe there was an invisible person standing right beside me that he wanted show grandma's butt to, and he seriously waved me over so I left my post up in the very safe area of grandma's head and went around to her posterior, reluctantly. It wasn't as scary as I feared. Then I let him point things out to me. Without fainting. It was a proud moment. The deal was grandma did indeed have a single hemmie, but it was not the kind of hemmie that would make a girl sweat and scream in pain.

Dr. Butt had another suspicion and he asked grandma to sit on the can and bear down for him. Then he had me and the nurse lift her part way up while he looked at her bottom with a butt doc light up mirror. He happily announced that his suspicions had been proven and asked me to look in the mirror. I couldn't see from where I was so Doc Butt excitedly pleaded with me to switch places with the nurse. He really wanted me to see this. Doc Butt seemed so happy about what he was seeing in the mirror that I was kind of thinking it might be a clown or maybe a magician or even a tap dancer. What a surprise I was in for. The dancing bear that was my first choice, was not performing on grandma's butt. Instead, there was something quite un-butt-like going on down there. I'll give it to you in two words.

Rectal Prolapse.

Here is the very tame line drawing version and here is the link that might make you want to gouge your eyes out too. Because now I can't shake the sight of what I saw. It was possibly the most frightening single sight I have ever had the heart stopping displeasure to experience.

The super bad news is that there is only one solution. Surgery. Which (a-duh!) they can't do on grandma. There is a less cut and dry solution which is a temporary kind of not very intrusive surgery, much more minor, Doc Butt says grandma could have it done, but there is a draw back. Possible serious permanent constipation.

What to do people, what to do. I have no idea what to do.

NoMoreSnow

Last night I got into bed with the husband and expressed my concern for grandma and her poor aching butt. SHe has been complaining of butt pain for a couple of weeks. FInally the OFH nurse took a look and it was serious. I made an appointment with her for the butt doctor and have to bring her tomorrow. I said to the husband "I hope they don't find anything serious. I mean, can they even find something serious? They can't put a camera up there you need anesthesia for that. The most they can do is stick a finger up there." Silence. More silence. No movement. "What?" I say. He finally responds "You can't expect me to go to bed with that visual in my mind." I laugh "Talk about something else. How about skin cancer or ingrown toenails?" I laugh harder. "Rashes?" "hahahaha" "Lice?" "HaHaHaHa!" Head injuries? Anything, just not that" "HAHAHAHAHA!"

I woke up this morning and I said "FUsnowCK FUsnowCK FUsnowCK!!" when I looked out the window. I had it all hanging on the 'ol farmer's almanac which predicted a dry and warmer winter than usual. Unfortunately I did not read the small print about the snow covered fall.

The devil dog knew what was going through my mind

I put in an early morning call to my editor and she asked me to get some first FUsnowCK photos. WIth my spare 17 minutes, that is precisely what I set out to do. It was a good thing actually, because when I shoot I don't think about how sick everyone is or how horrible they feel. And when I go out to shoot I find uplifting things like

some other mother's kids woke up so early they had time to get really wet before school by rolling up a snow man. My kids went off dry and warm! Also, that mom's kids stuck a cheese stick on snowman's head as a strip of hair and by tomorrow when all the snow is gone that mom is going to have rotting cheese stick on her front lawn, but I won't! Life is good!

Also, you might be able to make out some deer fencing in my first photo up there. Now I don't have to worry about the twice daily parade of plant eating, lyme spreading, poop dropping, long legged rats marching right through my back yard every day.
But this family does! Get a fence!

And tomorrow when I bring grandma to the butt doctor and I inevitably end up in the examining room with her I am totally replaying Seinfeld's Assman episode in my imagination the whole time. Yay!!

NaBurnedOutAtDay18

The scales are loaded with this right now: sleep on the one side and post on the other.
Naturally I'm going to post, because I said I would post each and every day for a whole painfully long month and heaven forbid I don't after thinking all those evil thoughts about the lucky people on the randomiser who skipped a day, but here is about all I am capable of right now. I've got two tid bits of cuteness that I emailed myself after hearing them (so I wouldn't forget!) and that is about it.

1. The husband took the boys to an old fashioned Kosher deli. It was full of atmosphere. They had the hundred year old shriveled salamis hanging from the ceiling. Evan glanced up and said "Whoa! Those things look like grandma!"

2. Putting Josh to bed he said to me "So, my bed is a jack right?" And I was so confused that I didn't know what to say. I just looked at him with my screwed up face. Then Josh, trying to clear things up for me, went on "Well, if yours is a king and Matt's is a queen, then what else is there?"

Also, Postsecret didn't post new post cards today and I am totally bumming. sigh. Well at least my girls at gofugyourself are not at a fashion show this week and Monday is always a good day over there.

That's all I got.

NaBloPostingRightUnderTheWire

Last November, the first time (and I know one can have their first time once) I did NaBloPoMo I was completely hooked on the randomiser. I recall staying up late at night, clicking and clicking and laughing and bookmarking blogs that I liked and just feeling completely joyous about the whole thing. Oh yeah, also I totally grooved on the extra traffic the randomiser brought my way. (Stat whore, remember?)

This year, not so much. The randomiser has failed me, let me down, broken may heart. First of all if you haven't posted every day then I think you should remove yourself from the post fest. It's only fair. Also, "I got nuthin" does not qualify as a post. Also, why does my randomiser rotate through the same 20 or so blogs over and over (and over again)? Where are the other thousands of people? Did we do something wrong when we signed up? Tell me, I can handle it.

Every day I check my stats and no randomiser hits. Also, no change in stats. I was hoping to make some new friends on the randomiser, and now I just (a tear rolls silently down my cheek) feel so alone. sniff. Is anyone new out there?

As a matter of fact (having more spare time than I recognize) I managed to take notes during my last very completely dissatisfying randomizing session and now I have a list of reasons how the randomizer has failed me.

Ready?

11. Manic Mommies every 6 clicks
10. People just signed up yesterday and joined NaBloPoMONTH 1/2 way through after not posting since Oct 16th.
9. signs off her posts TTFN
8. First line of post "I cannot believe that I'm 23 years old!"
7. Male blogger who doesn't think WIll Smith is sexy. Don't even go there.
6. Everyone but me is getting tagged for some meme.
5. Knitting
4. someone got NaBlo combined with NaNo and is writing part 38 of his novel.
3. I don't go to musical events in Hudson Valley
2. Aprons

and the number one reason why the Randomiser has failed me

1. No hablo espanol.

I want to know what a girl has to do around here to
randomise blogs that don't try to sell me something, convert me, preach frugality, dis Will Smith (or Matt Damon, Hello??), knit or sew (except sock zombies because they (and their maker) are funny) also, what I want (what I really really want) is blog that strikes a chord, maybe it gets me all choked up, maybe it tickles my funny bone. If you make me laugh out loud, even better.

NephewSavesThePostForToday

So, feeling rather tapped out by both life (my personal one these days, not life in general) and also NaBloPostEverySingleDayBecauseYouSaidYouWould- AndNowYouHAVETO I sat in my vehicle at almost 3 o'clock this afternoon, waiting for Josh to get out of school wondering if I'd be able to summon the funny for tonight's post when lil sis called to save me with this anecdote.

This week, here in Stepford was conference week, (and you'll be happy to know my kids are still perfect and absolutely beloved by their respective teachers) so when lil sis said she had a conference with 8 year old nephew's teacher I wasn't surprised. . Lil sis said she and her husband were at my 8 year old nephew's private school (for boys who are incredibly smart just their aunts) for a conference with his teacher as well. Except it wasn't the kind that is all prescheduled and follows a report card. It was the kind where the teacher calls you on the phone at home and says in a very serious tone "There is something we need to discuss"

And I got so excited because OMG lil sis was a holy terror as a kid and if her kid has even a fraction of her ... spunk... then this is going to be such a fun ride! You know, for me! I'll just sit back and observe from 120 miles away. Someone get the popcorn!

So, lil sis starts telling the story, and I am all giddy and imagining lil sis holding the new baby nephew on her lap and her husband sitting in the little third grade chairs, wearing their nice teacher meeting clothes, with their knees up near their shoulders and sweating it out while the pinched faced bespectacled teacher (I have no idea what the teacher actually looks like) rifles through some papers setting her authoritative tone for this impromptu conference. And then the actual (as opposed to my imagined) teacher tells them that there was an incident involving my nephew (their son, what ever) and a computer.

And my imagination is speeding a thousand miles an hour, I think of the kid who while doing her animal report google imaged BEAVER, I'm thinking about wildmom's kids who should be hired right now by the government today (if the government has a brain) because those kids can and have done remarkable things on the computer (that we know about) and their school is not always thrilled about that (understatement), and I am thinking about lil sis's own personal brand of special and how she related to her teachers (In second grade lil sis's teacher wrote EXCELLENT across the top of lil sis's assignment and lil sis says to the teacher, "How dare you write on my paper! This is my paper and if you have something to say to me you can say it to my face.") and the possibilities of what my sweet charming nephew, son of lil sis, could have done between the potential genetic bad ass attitude he may have inherited from lil sis and the involvement of high tech 21st century equipment are literally getting me high.

Then the teacher, according to lil sis, explains to lil sis and her husband that the students were told to do some school related research on the computer and that they have been instructed to do their school research on elibrary.com (or something like that) and my nephew, jokester that he is, decided to entertain his pals and check out eharmony.com instead.

I couldn't contain my laughter.

Then lil sis reports that the teacher informs her that all the schools computers have had to have eharmony.com blocked from them.

So I'm guessing the teachers won't be internet dating from the faculty lounge any more.

NaBrickHouse

Hey mighty mighty letting it all hang out!

Dinner got off to a rocky start tonight. By rocky you can pretty much guarantee that we were all perfectly content except Evan (my man on the edge. I have taken to describing him as "edgy". I think it fits, don't you?) who was doing his best to agitate someone (Josh) else, while I was doing my best not blow my top (and scream in front of my (judging) parents). Luckily there was peace in sight tonight! Tonight thanks to a table topics (I can not tell you how much my kids love the table topics) tangent (the best part of table topics is how far we can go with a single idea) we went around the dinner table saying something nice about the family member to our left. It was all very loving, very hallmark card, very aaaawww, and rather dry and predictable until we got to Evan who stood up and performed a whole original song and dance about how great his brother Matt is. You can imagine the accolades of praise he received after his original vocals and choreography and Evan, being one who loves the spotlight as much as any one else who loves the spotlight then grabbed some nearby paper and penned a funny, touching , loving song for every family member at the table. When he turned to me, to present my original song of specialness after a lively and amusing over the top introduction, Evan broke into his very special rendition of Brick House complete with his very Chippendale dancer type moves. It was funny, but not as good as Matt's song of love and appreciation, but then Evan sang a real made up just for me song and my favorite line in his song was "You are a pearl among pebbles". Evan said he thought this one up all by himself (along with "You are a shark among fish", which didn't exactly strike the same chord) so don't even think of telling me that you have heard it before. But you know that the next time Evan pretends to load and shoot a semi automatic weapon into his brother's head, I am going to summon up all that good loving pearl among pebbles energy and try to react (without freaking) accordingly.

NaBigFatty

I went to spin class today. Pretty much as soon I started to spin my legs my thighs began whining. And whimpering. I said "Quiet you two! Just move those pedals! And no complaining when I have to stand!" But the thighs are stubborn, oh yes they are, and whine and complain they did for the whole entire 1 hour spin class. I tried to talk it out with them. I said "Guys, what is the deal? You have no energy.... like ever. Why is it that you are not recovering between torture exercises?" But they didn't answer me, only kept on with the pitiful kind of heart wrenching mind blowing whining. In order to block out their cries of agony, I set the mind to work, I said "Mind, what is going on here? They are so unhappy, always lazy, never wanting to get the job done. They weren't like this back in September. They were roaring to go back then and I didn't even use them all summer!" And then the mind briefly considered that I had given the legs the summer off, kind of, and that maybe they needed inordinate amounts of rest, and then the mind remembered something critical, back in September we were still sugar free from the summer of good eating. And the mind reminded me that the legs never want to play after a thorough sugar binge and I realized that there are so many food issues that I need to reconcile. Like my enjoyment of physical activity and how difficult it is to be active when I am not eating well.

Also, there were full body bathing suit photos taken of me during this past vacation (one of my kids apparently has a death wish) and they really blew my mind. I can not believe (well, I can but I don't want to) that my physical self is the same person as my mental self. To me I look like I am a complete psychological mess. Maybe this is my own personal issue, perhaps I am a weightist, but if my big fat self struck up a conversation with my physical self, say on line at the check out counter or something, my mental self would burst out crying imagining the psychic pain my physical self must be in in order to eat herself into this condition.

NaBoobsInHiding

The Piggy Back

Find A Broad Shoulder and Lean

Inner Tube Duck Down

And finally, the moment no one saw coming, the full reveal, otherwise known as Feeling Violated

NaBloMeGotSomeBigOnes

When I was packing for this trip I couldn't find my beloved under wire bathing suits. I could wax and wane forever about the way my little easy to please heart sings at the mere thought of underwire bathing suits for my *ahem* fuller figure. A suit which lifts, supports, separates, and covers the girls has been all but an elusive dream to me since I was a wee little preteen with pole dancer boobies. That is until recently when some mastermind of genius proportion figured out how to sew the underwire into a bathing suit. I'd like to salute that brilliant mind. I hope it was a fellow bosomy gal just like me.

So I had to grab the only other two bathing suits that fit me in my upper weight range where I currently find myself. The bathing suits that made this trip with me I are the two suits otherwise known as smoosh them into the center and add some magical underarm boob overflow for good measure and the other one known as hang them 2 inches lower than normal while pulling her neck forward and even more out of alignment. Needless to say, I am a master at the photographic hide behind. So, in tomorrow's night post, I will share with you, dear readers, actual bathing suit photos in which you can barely see my cleverly hidden massive heaving in and out a bathing suit bosom.

I'd show you tonight, but I am dead tired, the migraine has migrated into a cloyingly annoying eye lid pain (I know! It never ends here!) and I just realized that I left two loads of unfolded laundry on Evan's bed this morning. So, until tomorrow, remember, lift, separate and be discreet!