clickmom

plastique

Having all of mom's (totally fake and completely plastic for the most part) jewelry around creates quite the dilemma for me. You see, I am not by nature a jewelry person. I do not know how to select jewelry. I do not know how to coordinate jewelry with clothes. Yet, here I sit overloaded with jewelry (fake stuff people, mostly fake and don't forget chunky!) feeling compelled to at least give it a try. You know, in mom's honor.

Truthfully, when I was going through all the mountains and mountains of jewelry stuff with lil sis I had only one thought and that thought went "That necklace might look okay with a very plain black top." Intellectually I recognize that I will have to wear more than plain black tops, but honestly, jewelry or not, I could live in plain black tops, as black is the uniform of the native New Yorker that I am and I totally buy into the whole black wardrobe thing. But, black aside, I knew it was inevitable that I was going to force myself into some of mom's flea market finds and I have been studying the other females of my species in an effort to unravel that mystery of adornment. I am kind of chicken though, and truth be told I have dabbled only in those (plastic) pieces that are uncharacteristically undersized for mom's (chunky) taste. (I actually doubt she ever wore the minute subtle neck gear I am about to show you) Keeping my new gentler kinder mantra in mind, I acknowledge that I am taking baby steps towards needing chiropractic work on a daily basis just to recover from the ornamentation (oh how I wanted to use the word frippery because I took a peek in the thesaurus and I think frippery might be my new favorite word- way better than lackadaisical).

So here for you is a sneak peek at me (in mostly black tops) uncharacteristic in tacky plastic jewelry. We begin our journey into jewelry with a lovely white beaded number. I figured I had to get the white one in before labor day. Say HI to dad, me and one fugly necklace:
Next stop on the jewelry ride is a lovely little sea shell themed silver thing. I was still thinking "summer!" I think that I maybe should have wrapped it around my neck three times instead of twice. Some of the lengths of these things are awkward on me.

We were going out to dinner and I saw that as a chance to be a bit more daring and throw on something longer, with three strands and a bit of dazzle. Please excuse the disturbing hair style. I am hair styling challenged as well.

This black and white number I can actually enjoy. It's some kind of little discy pearly thing. I wore it several times. I only photographed myself in it once.

And then last and in reality least, I wore this tiny little three strand purple beaded thing today. I figured I would not wear a black shirt, even though I already had on some green jeans, so I wore a pink shirt which means I felt practically naked (utterly unabashedly exposed) the entire day. But I made it through the day and here is the final flea market find for now .... I wore PINK and PURPLE I MUST BE 10 AGAIN!!

beep beep boo

So, I'm kinda pissed today. First, no one read my ultrasound yesterday until after 4. Then the nurse called me to tell me that the doctor had left but "it was fine". I was like, "Okay.... then why does my tit hurt?" But I said nothing except "Thanks!" because the nurse said the breast specialist doctor wold be calling me today.

Then, because I asked the doc good get a copy of the results too, he sent me off an email saying "Your test was good. There are two mildly enlarged lymph nodes in the tail (near the armpit) of the breast. I'm sure that Dr breast specialist can comment further." Which doesn't particularly sound "fne" or "good" to me, it sounds like my "mildly enlarged"nodes just might have something to do why my nipple is on fire and there is a bump in my arm pit, but hey, I'm not a doctor!

Then the breast specialist called me today and says everything is fine. And I ask "Fine?" She says YES the ultrasound was normal and I ask her is there any inflammation and she tells me it is all in the normal range. So the bottom line is that inflammation that the breast specialist and good doc, my internist, can both feel with their fingers is "normal" even though I have a big lump in my arm pit and again I have the sensation of acid eating away at my nipple every time anything touches it.

I ask the breast specialist what I should next and she says she supposes that Advil is a good idea, and I'm like "Fuck you lady! I'm not taking Advil for all of eternity! Are you crazy or just an idiot?!!?!" in my head, and what I say out loud is, "Okay, thanks!" and I hang up with her and make a mental note to see all my alternative medicine practitioners and maybe even call the psychic in on this one. Western medicine has failed my searing pain nipple. You know I have to name it now, Hmmmm.. should I name it after grandma? Estelle. "Hello, I am Estelle, the scorching nipple." Gasp! I think it works!

Speaking of grandma, she has figured out another way to mess with the tv. I am so not kidding you people! Just keep reading! The other night I was fast deep asleep and in my dream this animated computer sound starts to interrupt. It's going beep beep boo beep beep boo, like that and it kept on and on until in my dream I realized that there was something wrong and it was this noise and I forced myself back to consciousness and just as I woke up it stopped. But not before I realized it was coming from the corner of the room where the tv is, but even I didn't think it was grandma right away, instead I figured that Josh, who had been playing in my room earlier had left an electronic toy in the corner, but when I woke up I looked over there and there was nothing but tv.

Don't worry Tony is right here next to me all night long.

Mrs. Brandt

My second grade teacher was Mrs. Brandt. Here are a few other things I remember about Mrs. Brandt. She was always so incredibly nice to us kids. Mrs. Brandt never raised her voice and always had infinite patience. Once during a heat wave Mrs. Brandt brought witch hazel and cotton balls to school. When us kids were sweltering in our not air conditioned classroom Mrs. Brandt would swipe our heads and cool us off. I wasn't used to having a teacher who was so warm and caring. Back then a NYC school teacher had to meet different standards. One of the the requirements was that taechers play a musical instrument. Mrs. Brandt played the piano. But the thing was that she only had 9 1/2 fingers. And all I wanted to do when I was a kid was see Mrs. Brandt's 1/2 finger work the piano keys and see how it was doing it. But Mrs. Brandt played to us kids in the school's auditorium and us kids were seated in the theater area and we couldn't see Mrs. Brandt's hands no matter how hard we tried. Then one day Mrs. Brandt told us that she lost her 1/2 finger in an accident when she was a young girl. Mrs. Brandt said that when she woke up from the operation the first thing she asked the doctor was if she would still be able to play piano and that he had told her YES and Mrs. Brandt knew everything would be just fine. I thought Mrs. Brandt, even as a kid, was just amazing.

It was back to school night for Josh tonight and I got to hear Josh's teacher talk for an hour. I am very excited because I think she might be a Mrs. Brandt.

mass 2 is my favorite one

Josh was using my computer and when I turned it on later in the day I saw this.

As if I am not worried enough.

About me.

Went to that breast specialist today. The specialist was nice enough.

It seems that I can check off just about everything on the long list of things that might contribute to mysterious indeterminate (and incurable) breast pain.

stress. check.
weight gain. check
age of possible perimenopause. check
neck injury. check

Luckily cancer does not usually cause pan.

Oh, wait there are two things a girl could take to see if they help with the pain. One is tamoxifen (no thank you) and the other is male hormones (uh ..... double no thank you). Sometimes these two things work. Sometimes. Yeah, that doctor was pretty hilarious, don't you think?

She ordered an ultrasound. The ultrasound technician was a bitch. I had an internal panic attack when she squirted the ultrasound gel on my boob and I couldn't feel the coldness of it that I had braced myself for. I figured I had had pain in the boob for so long and had tried so hard not to touch, poke, stroke, irritate the boob for so long that I had lost sensation in it. Afterwards I spotted the ultrasound gel warming device on the table. HA! My bad!

The ultrasound itself seemed thorough enough, the technician zoomed right in on my painful spot and my swollen spot and took lots of pictures. And then more pictures. It wasn't the number of pictures that has me totally unabashedly freaked out it is that she took a quick swipe of the area before zeroing precisely in on the area of interest. I feel like she saw something, which naturally she would not say if she did because the liar said she only took the pictures and that she didn't know if there was anything there to be concerned about. Liar. I wanted to slap her. I hate liars.

Then she left me in the room alone while she went to "see if the pictures were good" and I peered over at the machine to see if she had left the last image up. There was no image, but my personal info was still on there and so was a column with "Mass 1 Mass 2 Mass 3" in it. If you are or know an ultrasound technician please tell me that this is the standard outline on the screen and nothing to be alarmed about.

B thinks that being thorough is what they do at the breast center and I should not be worried. I am worried.

They were supposed to call me from the nice doctors office when they got the report but so far no word. Will update if I hear today.

stainless

Sometimes I get it right the first time and sometimes I don't. Back in the old days when the husband and I were first a couple I did fall victim to that whole sponge painting craze. As if sponge painting in and of itself wasn't bad enough the color scheme I used in my bedroom was turquoise and white. To make matters worse I alternated white on turquoise with turquoise on white depending on what surface was painting. The trim didn't stand against me and my little sea sponge. My only regret is that there are no pictures.

One thing I did get right the first time around was cutlery. One day the (then boyfriend) husband and I skipped off to Bloomingdales to get some grown up cutlery to go with our cinder block and board coffee table and our futon couch bed. We picked awesome cutlery. It was the perfect size (not continental sized spoons), perfect weight and it sat comfortably in our hands! I loved it so much that after a while I wondered why we had only purchased 8 settings. We skipped off to Bloomies for some more (it was their own brand) only to discover to our horror that during the year of perfect cutlery use some foolish managerial dolt, who more than likely only ate out of cardboard takeout containers with a spork, had decided to discontinue that god sent perfect pattern. I was devastated.

And I tired to find another perfect pattern but it was not to be. In the year of exemplary stainless steel, continental sized spoons came into vogue and call me old fashioned, but I prefer a spoon that both fits in my mouth and is not easily confused with the serving spoons, you know? Over the years I have had several other patterns, but none as wonderfully flawless as that Bloomies pattern. You might be wondering why I need to purchase so much cutlery, and the answer to that would be, HAVE YOU MET MY KIDS?? Cutlery disappears around here. I assume much of it is accidentally tossed into the trash during fits of bribe/threat induced offspring helpfulness, I know an occasional food encrusted piece makes into the back yard (ahem- DEVIL DOG!) never to be seen again, but since it my supplies simply disappear gradually and with out a trace I just can not be sure.

I finally got smart about it though, while strolling through costco the other day I picked up 24 place settings. They were cheaper than cheap and if they disappear this time I don't care because I am starting to believe that the perfect cutlery will never exist again. At least this costco set has normal sized tablespoons. I'm still frustrated.

thespian

Summer weather has returned. It's the garden state specialty HHH- hazy hot and humid, few do it as disgusting as the garden state. It's just another reason why stepford is so incredibly special to me. It makes me want to cry and I wish I were in utopia. I would happily drive up there for just the day but I'm the only one in the family that takes the ride in stride like that, so we went to the movies instead.

Matt tried out for the school play last week and tonight the emails went out to all the people who got call-backs. I kind of felt that Matt had a good chance of getting in, he has a great stage presence (booming voice) and none of the teenage aloofness or detachedness that wouldn't be an asset in a play. When Matt told me he made the call back I said that I had just known he would make it and I was so happy for him, but on the inside I was doing flips and screaming because, HELLO?, 1. It's such a typical thing to do (it's social!!) and 2. Matt might make some (more like him) creative theater type friends there during all those rehearsals and 3. I am already counting the seconds until I can sit in that auditorium beaming up at my baby and taking the video. The second round of try-outs are on Tuesday.

So, I can't believe I almost 9 months complete with the whole blog 365 thing. I have to say that at first blogging every single day was tough, but now it is just routine. I'm not sure how I am going to feel come January, maybe I'll continue, maybe I will take a week off. Hahahaha, you know I can't stop for a week! I amuse myself. Time for bed now, the weekday monotony resumes tomorrow. My alarm is set for 6AM.

clueless

I taught my first religious school class today. It was like riding a bike. After last night's rushed half assed effort at writing my completely and openly plagiarized from the lady who taught second grade religious school last year lesson plan, I walked in to my own classroom and all my old good reliable teaching skills resurfaced and everything went smoothly. I have to say that I have the cutest group of kids, even the ADHD kid was so sweet I was able to redirect him with out even blinking when he decided to write on Josh's nose with black marker. Josh let it slide. And speaking of Josh, I can't begin to tell you how I had to use every bit of restraint I could muster not run up to him every four seconds and squeeze his chubby little cheeks. Josh has an answer for every question and if I didn't call on him fast enough he would stretch his arm higher and higher and higher until I was fairly certain that he was going to home with an unusually long left arm. And as far my girls go... well, I am already planning the end of the year spa day with them. They are future babes! I got very lucky.

Best kid question of the day "Exactly who was David and how did he get his own star?"

After school I shot a football game. The crowd was psyched because it was the first Saturday game. There were hordes of kids wearing body paint. And as I feared the garden state was it's traditional swampy self. I stood there on the field baking in the 99% humidity with the sun blazing it's way through overcast with toxic smoke particles sky and I thought I was gonna faint. I was dripping. So I left at half time.

Then tonight I took Matt to a local concert series because the ad showed a guy who played 10 different string instruments. Matt likes classic rock, I'm more of a folk rock fan (you know, if it can't be lite music) It turned out to be a sort of ho down. Seriously, all it needed was that metal comb instrument that Snoopy plays and maybe a deliverance banjo player. Matt and I snuck out.

I've got 5 minutes to post this and not a clue how to tie it all together.

sisters

Yesterday I shot the dedication of a newly finished 9/11 memorial garden. It was a heartbreaking and tear jerking ceremony. It went down perfectly.

Afterwards I went over to one of the widows, who I happen to know casually. I had taken a photo of her and did not know who the woman she was standing with was. I had to be able to ID both the ladies for the paper. It turned out that the other woman was the sister of the lady that I kind of know and I struggled and struggled because I wanted to tell the lady that I kind of know how glad I was for her that she had a sister to go through what she went through with. I wanted to tell the lady how having my own sister by my side during the past 3 awful months made everything a little less horrible and helped me keep perspective and vent and heal and cry and sort things out and laugh and hold my hand at grandma's funeral and everything.

But I didn't think that I could find the words to say it the right way and I was afraid that she would somehow hear me comparing losing her husband and the father of her children in a terrorist act to what I have been through and not hear that what I really wanted to say which was that I know how comforting and wonderful it can be to have a sister when times suck and that I was happy for her that she had a sister too.

In the end I didn't say anything about her sister, only what I hope was supportive to her when she talked about her kids and how they are coping with what happened to their dad.

tea tree shampoo

The other day I was in the check out line at whole foods when the old lady next to me peered into my cart and saw the sushi I was about to purchase and hover down on my way to pick up the kids from school. She commented how nice sushi was since a person could put it in their fridge and eat it throughout the course of a day. I laughed and gently told the sweet old lady that I had three kids and that nothing tasty lasted the course of a day in my house.

When it was my turn to check out the new cashier asked me how old my kids were. So I told her. And she looked at me like I was lying and asked me if they were my "step-kids or something." I told her that they were my very own natural children and she asked me again how old they were, like maybe I had lied the first time. She told me that I was not old enough to have my kids and I told her how old I am. She said I looked 27!

Choose the ending:

a. I told her that being really fat smoothes out the wrinkles...

b. I was filled with indignation at her blatant lie and smacked her across the face.....

c. I thought "You might be an idiot but I have a new favorite cashier!"

Today I checked out at whole foods with my new favorite cashier. The loud talking bag your groceries guy was newbie too and I had to tell him three times that he couldn't put the tomato at the bottom of the bag. Also, I asked him to pack my single re-usable bag well since I didn't want to waste paper by needing a paper bag. I told the kid I didn't want to be a tree killer. He asked me what a tree killer looked like and I (discreetly) pointed to the young guy with the toddler in the shopping cart in the next check out lane who had four less than half filled paper bags for about $30 worth of groceries. My new favorite cashier and the dumb bag boy broke out laughing. I hope the young father wasn't too offended, but just offended enough to be more conscientious. I feel preachy today.

I attended a PTO meetng at Evan's school and came to the horrible realization that despite the kind words of my new favorite cashier, I have become one of the "old mothers". I sat next to Kitten and remarked how similar the group of people were at this meeting to the PTO meetings we used to go to 10 years ago when our kids were just beginning school. And Kitten very quickly pointed out that the very same people were all "bitter, worn out and tired looking" compared to the fresh faced people we were ten years ago. I spit out my caffeinated gum and chugged my large coffee and told her "Who'd tired? Who's worn out?" and then I dozed through the treasurer's report. Then one of the toddlers of the fresh faced mothers began to fuss and I thought,

You choose:

a. Awww.. How cute!

b. Hmmmm.... maybe I should go over there and try to distract that crying baby.....

c. Geez Louise lady! Get that crying kid out of here!

At whole foods, I happened to bump onto that mother of four that I celebrated the first day of school with. She isn't usually a WF customer but she told me that LICE is already going around our schools and she was wasting no time in taking preventative measures. She was buying tea tree oil shampoo because lice didn't like it or something. Guess who else's kids will be using tea tree oil shampoo this winter?

I'm sitting around the house blogging (because why wash that sink full of dishes when you can write stories for your 12 dedicated readers?) because I am waiting for the A/C guy to come and fix our bedroom A/C. If the repair guy says we had to change the filters (or something equally as easy) I am going to pay him double since I suggested that to the husband a few times and he refused to do it. Naturally, the garden state has cooled off during the last week, but this weekend might go back into the 80's, so A/C might be in order for another night or two before the end of the season.

Grandma turned the bedroom tv on again the other night and I saw that flash of light again. I pounded the husband until he opened his eyes and he said "You're right. HI grandma." and immediately re-initiated deep slumber with heavy snoring. I should have taped it.

Grandma is also playing tricks on me with my cell phone. Though this could very well be mom. Don't forget that mom's motto was "get on with your life!" When dad called me from his house mom's picture came up on my cell phone and every time I tried to call dad back showing that picture my call failed. I think someone is telling me it might time to take mom's info off of the phone.

Well, the AC guy is now about an hour late, (They just called, they will be here around 1:30) so I am going to tackle those dishes with the help of my ipod and maybe even get some cardio if a good dance song happens to be in the line up.

PS Just for giggles I called the tv repair place and asked then if they ever heard of a tv going on in the middle of the night by itself before and the guy said that he had never heard such a thing and that if it was his tv he would unplug it and never use it again. He said he wouldn't even try to fix it for me! Even if I brought it in to the shop! Hahahahaha!!!!

PPS I told him about my new bedside table buddy Tony, (yeah, turns out he was kinda cold and didn't reciprocate when snuggled, I had to kick him out of bed. Also, when I was half asleep I kept thinking he was a tasty bottle of wine and getting all happy and thirsty when I really just needed to sleep) and repair guy said he still would never even turn the tv on again.

bad-ass

First you should know that I am totally PMSing.

Second you should now that my right leg has once again floated right out of my right hip socket and I am in a fair amount pain. Pain makes me mean.

Third is that photographers group I was so psyched about was supposed to be tonight except when I pulled up the place was dark and there were three bewildered looking guys sitting outside wondering if someone was going to come and open up the place. No one came and my editor (the photo hobbyist) and I did end up chatting with the three other dupes and they were nice enough. I now fear the group might be a bit amateurish for me, one guy, the professional, said that he thought the critiques were a bit too on the positive side and not constructive enough. Here I am to save the day! Have I ever mentioned how completely critical I am? I can be brutal. Now I have to wait a another month?!?!? Damn!

And lastly, Evan's teachers sent home a little question form and they want us to answer all sorts of questions about Evan's personality and possible quirkiness. I feel quite certain that Evan's teachers are not going to read all 172 forms they get back. I think they are just going to file them away in case the kids get into trouble. I think we should write "Evan is bad-ass. Don't mess with him." and send the questionnaire back. The husband doesn't think that that would be quite as funny as I do, but I'm thinking that when Evan (and this just might be inevitable since Evan already got reprimanded in the hallway by a teacher for punching his friend's book, which according to Evan is merely some kind of manly bonding game they play only because they are such cool dudes) does get into big trouble, and the teachers whip out the form to see what Evan's parents think of him, that this would be the perfect thing to have on there. Agree with me please! Come on people!