Practicing Medicine

I am not going to tell you who I am writing about in this blog entry.  Okay, okay--one hint: Hetway Ifeway.  Just sayin'.

There is good reason they call it a medical practice or "practicing medicine." We are all little guinea pigs in this form of practice.  Here's what I have to say before you become the next medical practice guinea pig: become an educated consumer who is a strong self-advocate.  Save yourself, little piggy!

Hetway Ifway, our subject matter, has insurance.  She is good about doing preventive maintenance, so to speak. Since she is a good patient, one that does as she is told by whoever made the rules in the land of medical practice, you would think medical issues would be simple, but....

.....here's how it goes:

0.5: Hetway has met her insurance deductable for the year, so she schedules a routine medical test.  Unfortunately, she has not met her annual maximum despite having had major surgery this year, so she checks her bank account before setting up the test. 

1.  Hetway Ifeway has the medical test.


2.  Hetway is called back to have another medical test, based on the first medical test.

3.  Prior to going for second test, Hetway researches the issue because it pays to be an educated consumer.

4. Hetway has the second medical test.

5.  Hetway has a third test, for good measure, as ordered by the practicing medical professionals reviewing test one and two.

5.  Practicing Medical professionals hem and haw. No one wants to make a decision and so they hem and haw some more and wonder if Hetway should have further testing.

6.  Hetway Ifeway gets pissy because she realizes she knows more than those who are hemming and hawing.

7.  The wishy washy medical professional passes the buck and suggests another medical test, of which seems quite unnecessary to those who have taken the time to be educated consumers.

8.  Figuring it will be helpful, Hetway goes to primary care physician to talk about the results of test one, two and three & to discuss options.

9. Primary Care Physician's office has no electricity (who knows why).  They do not reschedule her appointment, despite everything (records, test results, x-rays) being electronic.  This means the records, tests and x-rays cannot be viewed by the doctor.

10.  Worse, the doctor does not know her from Adam despite being her PCP for the past two decades.  Seriously.  Even though Hetway Ifeway has some significant medical issues and has seen him repeatedly over the past several years and just had major surgery of which he arranged, he does not recognize her.

11.  PCP asks Ifeway what the issue is and why she is there.  Thank god she is an educated consumer and is able to relay information on tests one, two and three; she also provides a history so the uneducated PCP can practice some form of medicine.

12.  PCP hems and haws.  He refers Ifeway to a surgeon despite not having medical records or other information.  This infuriates Ifeway as no one is speaking her language and no one seems to have access to the same basic medical information she has found on her own.

13.  Being a strong self-advocate, Ifeway is smart enough to get a copy of the written reports from test one, two and three.  She gets her own DVD of test results.  She makes her own appointment with the surgeon.

14.  Ifeway educates herself further.

15.  Ifeway finally finds someone who is speaking the same language.  Thank god the surgeon actually read a book or two on the subject and has balls.  He uses his knowledge and balls to come to the same conclusion Hetway Ifeway came to weeks ago (and hundreds of dollars ago) and actually makes a decision: there is no need for further action at this time.

16. Ifeway needs intensive psychotherapy due to the craziness of the medical system.

17.  Ifeway does not pursue this as that will require a referral from PCP.


It's a clusterf*ck, driven by malpractice premiums, insurance companies and drug companies, eh?  I could go on and on.  My hernia-non-hernia is a great example, but it's pretty much the same thing so I won't waste your time.  Suffice it to say that my doctor, who I have been seeing since 1987, who has seen me through weirdness like a cracked sternum, lumpy goiter, a herniated neck disk after a freak jogging incident and re-occurring armpit lump (aka Larry Lump), a guy who had me wear a heart monitor because I thought i was going to need a heart transplant, a guy who sees me annually for a wellness check up has NO IDEA who I am.  Despite being covered with weird tattoos and having these (and many more) memorable medical issues, I could bite him in the head and he wouldn't know me.  He might--and, this is a big might--recognize me as a "hmmm, she looks kind of familiar" but there is no way in hell he could ever tell you my first name.  Side note: Interestingly, my records (electronic records, now available to me via the Internet) from him indicate that I have (1) a thyroid issue; and, (2) anxiety.  That's not much to go on--no wonder he doesn't know who the hell I am.  I probably have this reported anxiety from having to go the doctor.

I really, really like my doctor, so I put up with this. Besides, starting over is no guarantee I'll get anything better.  I like him, he's never been wrong, he has good intuition, he's on my provider plan.  Just can't remember me or ifeway.


BTW, Hetway Ifeway is fine.  Thank you for asking! Well, medically she is fine.  I can't say the same about her psychiatric status--I think she is permanently scarred from recent incidents related to being a patient in the medical arena.  I'll just give her one of my psychology text books and let her diagnose and fix herself.  She can practically practice medical practice, so why not try a little psychotherapy on herself?  At least she'd recognize herself.

Snape-a-licious

I've decided that because I am such the magician (able to make a hernia disappear with a blink of an eye) and because I've seen the final installment of HP four times and because it's just too hard to figure out the appropriate gaga outfit and because I didn't want to scare anyone by dressing like an o.b. tampon, I am going to dress as my beloved Severus Snape for Halloween. 

My other costume consideration was to dress as Katniss from "The Hunger Games," but I figure no one at work would know what or who the hell I was.  Maybe next year after the movie's been out for awhile.....

Now, I usually don't tell anyone what my plans are for my Halloween outfits, but this year's costume is going to be so labor intensive (I make my own costumes) that I thought it only fair to alert the masses of my whereabouts and my distractions.  Over the past many adult years, I've been Mr. Hankey the Christmas Poop, The Crocodile Hunter, Spongebob Squarepants, a smurf (which one I am not sure), Goldilocks, a groom, Popeye and even Batman.  Those were simple in comparison to this feat.  I thought about cheating (i.e. buying a costume on line) but to purchase an official Snape costume (and I don't believe the hair is included) is almost $200. 

I like Halloween but I don't like it that much.

So, I went to Wally world and bought some supplies to begin my creation.  I hope the wife still has her "cheap" graduation gown, as that will work for a cape (saves me money and will work like a charm).  I won't ask to borrow her official gown, as that cost more than the Snape outfit.  I'm not sure how I'm going to do it but this is my goal:

I'll need to buy a wig and a wand, but otherwise, I'll be faking the rest.

For the record, I've loved Snape from the very first book.  JK thought she had us all fooled, but she didn't fool me.  I knew.  I KNEW!

BTW, one of my clients--a guy with schizophrenia who usually doesn't demonstrate an interest in or an understanding of emotion--asked me if my heart was breaking when Snape saw his lovely Lily die.  Surprised, I turned to him and admitted that indeed it was.  He agreed with me.  "It is heartbreaking to see someone so in love lose the person they love."  Woof.  Blew me right away.

See? The power of Snape!

As for the hernia, I pushed it back in and I swear I haven't seen it since.  I am going to exercise this afternoon (the first time since seeing and then not seeing the hernia) and see if anything develops.  I can do some heavy lifting, too but I dont' want it to come shooting out like an alien--if it's there, it will come crawling out on its own. 

For those of you who are wondering and/or have been praying/sending out healing vibes, there is good news! Our friend who was in the burn unit at the local hospital, is home and getting ready to return to work part-time next week.  Yeah!  She's still got a ways to go but she is truly on the mend.  I went to see her and her sidekick yesterday.  I had called earlier and asked if I could visit around 2:30 PM.  They were gracious and agreed.  So, I'm in my car, driving in the country, enjoying the fine fall day, singing at the top of my lungs, heading to their homestead, cruising through the 30 minute trip.  I figure I have about ten minutes to go, so look at the clock and it says 1:17 PM.  I think to myself, "I am going to be right on time! Perfect!"

Um, hello.  The clock says 1:17 pm.....

.....not 2:17 PM.  I have ten minutes to go to get to their house at 2:30 PM but I am about to get there at 1:30 PM.

I am an hour ahead of schedule.

How this happened, I do not know.  I swear I left at 2 PM but somehow left at 1 PM.  Earlier in the day, I told my co-workers that I'd be leaving at 2 PM.  No one--not a one of them--said a word when I walked out at 1 PM. 


So, I called them and asked if I could come an hour ahead.  Being the ever-gracious hosts, they obliged my inability to tell time.  They fed me dark-chocolate-infused coffee cake and drown me in delicious coffee swimming in heavy cream. 

Um, aren't I the one who should be bringing the gifts?

It was wonderful to see our dear friend upright and not in an ICU bed.    It was also wonderful to her dutiful wife enjoying a hospital-free day.  What a great way to spend an autumn afternoon, even if it was an hour early. (Thank you for all the good wishes.) I know that THEY will appreciate my decision to be Snape.  After all, they have a life-size cut out of Dumbledore in their living room.    They'd also understand if I were dressed as Katniss, as it is their fault I know about the Hunger Games.

For now, I will dedicate to the creation of my costume and work on determining the status of my hernia/non-hernia.  I'll also work on telling time. 

My money's on the costume.

Last Thursday night, I noticed a HUGE lump near/in/on (?) my groin area.  The size of this protrusion made it impossible to miss.  It hurt enough for me to notice but not enough for me to do anything about it.  After much fondling and staring (and scary Internet searches....never do Internet searches on medical symptoms), I decided it must be a swollen lymph node, somehow related to Larry Lump of old.  I had no other symptoms, so Larry's cousin it was. 

When Friday morning arrived, I took a tentative gander.  Yup, still there, still big enough to see from across the room, still aching enough to remind me of its presence.  I promised myself I would not touch it or look at it for the remainder of the day.  Of course, I looked at it every time I went to the bathroom and touched it every time it kinda sorta hurt.  My entire right lower abdomen was swollen.  I wondered if there was an infection from a shaving incident gone wrong, an allergic reaction to the mystery bite on my butt (see photo), an ovary overtaking my innards, a gas bubble traveling the globe.  I decided Larry's cousin was very out of control and promised myself I would go to the doctor and get some antibiotics on Monday if things didn't improve.

Note about the photo: I didn't bother copy-righting it cuz I really didn't want anyone to tell it's actually my butt. Isn't that the weirdest thing--looks like I got bit by a snake or baby vampire.  It hurts like a bitch, showed up out of nowhere. If you have ideas about what this is, let me know.  It's actually more on the hip part of my butt.  They are definitely not pimples or boils.  They never got gross like that.  The little scabs just showed up.  I didn't pick anything, I swear.  (Um, yes I have my shorts on inside out, with the pockets hanging out.  I know, I know.  That's really weird.  Call me lazy.)

Playing doctor, I felt all my areas where lymph nodes would be found--nothing was amiss. Even Larry Lump was behaving.  I haven't lost weight, I don't have night sweats, I don't have a fever, I don't have much of anything else but the bug bites and the abdominal lump.  My poop is moving.  My peeing is free flowing.  My period is like clockwork. No sore throat.  No sore anything else.  Just the uncomfortable lump swimming in the swollen abdomen.

By the time Sunday morning arrived, I knew I had to do something.  It was ridiculous.  I showed it to the wife so I would have a witness to this madness.  (I should have taken a photo.  What was I thinking???!) Search after internet search didn't suggest much of anything I wanted to hear.  While I sat at the kitchen table, I thought to myself: this best not be a god-dang hernia.


When Monday morning arrived, I decided to go to the doctor.  The lump wasn't getting any smaller or better; in fact, I thought it looked a wee bit more swollen.  Whether I wanted to know it or not,  I knew: this was a hernia.   It looked like all the photos on the web.  It met every description I read.  It made the most sense.  An inguinal hernia.  Sigh. 

How the hell did I get a hernia?  I don't do anything more strenuous than carry the ice cream container from the freezer to the kitchen table.  I don't work out.  I don't carry things.  I don't lift things.  I am not constipated.  I haven't shot out a baby.  I called the doctor and made an appointment for lunch time.

Side note: Why is it that the first thing they do at the doctor's office is weigh you?  I was not pleased to see I now weigh more than I have weighed in something like 13 years.  (Damn you, peri-menopause!) Then, they take your blood pressure.  How rude is that?  The nurse announces my blood pressure and I give her a stunned look.  What?  I tell her that is by far the highest it has ever been.  She asks if I am nervous.  I want to scream: YOU JUST WEIGHED ME! THAT'S WHY MY BLOOD PRESSURE IS SO HIGH!"

The doctor took one look at my lump and I knew she knew what it was.  She had me lay back, she had me stand up, she had me bear down.  She asked the standard questions and then announced "You have a hernia."

I laughed.

I laughed more.  In fact, I kept laughing and muttering, "I have a hernia."

She referred me to a surgeon, told me not to strain or lift things.  I left her office and thought long and hard about this.  I pushed on it, I prodded it, I pushed on it more.  Huh.  A hernia.  I did what all good people do: I called my mother.  Wouldn't you call your mother if you had a hernia?

Over the next few hours, I learned all sorts of hernia things.  I learned that the only cure for a hernia is surgery. I resigned myself to the fact that I would need surgery. 

Now comes the weird part.

Today, when I went to the bathroom I noticed......for the most part, the lump was gone.  Seriously.  The swelling was no longer noticeable.  I ran to the kitchen and showed the wife. I asked what she thought.  After telling me to stop pushing on it, she agreed that everything looked pretty much back to normal.  I was freaked out.  She kept eating dinner.

Through out the day, I peeked at my non-hernia hernia. Did I push it back in? Was it never a hernia? Do hernias go "inside" and come back out later? Do hernias actually disappear and come back? Did I heal myself? Did the baby jesus heal me? Did the venom from the snake bite work its way out? Was a giant poop, lost in the tubing of the belly? If not a hernia, what is it and where did it go? I know it was a hernia.  How could I lose a hernia?

Nothing much to see.  Nothing much to feel. Huh.  I am so grateful.  I am so confused.


I am open to your suggestions & diagnoses, dearest visitors to the Addiverse. Tell me your hernia stories and hernial tales of woe.  Bless me with your words of wisdom.  If I don't hear from you soon, I will lift a 100 pound bag of something over my head to see if the hernia pops back out.

Don't worry--I'll take photos.

How does your garden grow?

I am so excited to report that I've grown my first, official carrots!  Well, kinda-sorta.  As you can see, I've managed to grow the world's smallest carrots and the world's smallest watermelon. You can see how small they are by looking at the size of my hand in comparison with the size of the garden product.  The wife says both were tasty, so I am proud.  (I still can't believe she ate either one of these garden gems.  They scared me, being so little.) With the advent of fall and last night's cold temps, I didn't want to leave these little pee wees in the garden, so I harvested them.  I think the carrots would have grown a bit more if left alone, but the watermelon? It has been the same size for weeks, so I'm thinking it was designed to be this size.

At least the tomatoes look the way they are supposed to look.

My garden prowess leaves much to be desired but I am learning.  Next year, I plan on the mother load of vegetables.  Bunnies, beware!

 

 Speaking of garden animals, look who was waving hello to me this morning.  Mr. Chippy!  He mocks me.  Sometimes he sits on top of the garden statues and sticks his tongue out at me.  This morning, he hung out on the patio and gave me the finger.

I thought you might see what he looks like and where he lives.  Here is a photo of his newest habitat, freshly dug in the wee hours of the night.  It doesn't look like much but trust me, it is a problem.  As you can see, he doesn't even run away when I approach....he waits until I get really close....then, he laughs before running. 

At least he didn't try to eat my carrots.

Pause for Paws (Up!)

Before I follow up with my last blog, I want to express my overwhelming joy with the arrival of my new license plate holder. (Yes, I made this photo so no one can legally give me a hard time about it. I am going to copyright all my photos.  I am a genius.) I had to have it specially made, as I wasn't able to find a pre-made little monster frame.  Ah, the little things in life.  I got sick and tired of everyone thinking my plate was about my love of dogs.  I do indeed love my dogs but the plate is about Gaga, not the dogs.  I'm hoping the phrase on the plate frame will help other drivers realize that I am giving a "paws up!" not just giving a shout out to my dogs.  All I want is one person--one stinkin' person!--to drive by and give me a paws up.  Oh, the joy that will bring!

I don't think I mentioned a recent dilemma.  While seated at a party, my friend asked me what I would do if Madonna walked in one door and Lady Gaga walked in the other.  "Who would you choose?"  This stopped me in my tracks.  Choose? How does one choose between the two? I tried to weasel out of it by saying I'd choose both, but she assured me this was not possible.  "Nope, you have to choose one or the other.  Which is it going to be?" I fretted about this, listing aloud the pros and cons to each choice.  "I've been with Madonna since the beginning, she is my age, we grew up together. I dunno if I could betray her at this point of the game. I've been to at least eight of her concerts..." My friend gave me a knowing look.  "So, if Gaga walks in, you are going to Madonna? She's a has-been!"  I clutched my chest.  How could she say that?  I thought about it a little more.  "Well, Madonna's basically a bitch and wouldn't give me the time of day, so it might not be worth wasting my choice on her. She's the better dancer but not the better singer.....Gaga, on the other hand, would be very accessible, friendly, open to an actual conversation.  She's the better singer, she is fresh."  I felt a little bead of sweat start to roll down my forehead.  "Um, Madonna.  No--no, wait! Gaga.  Oh, I think...."  I never did choose.  I think I would pray that Lucy Lawless walk in the back door and I would choose her over the other two.  My friend did not give me that option, so I left the question unanswered.....

......These are the things that consume my brain.


UPDATE ON OUR FRIEND: Today is the day our dear friend is being released from ICU.  Many a week ago, she found herself in the burn unit.  It has been a long, arduous trip for her and her wife.  (I like saying that.  They are legally tied, you know.  I can call her that.)  They kept her a lot longer than I thought they would and certainly a hell of a lot longer than she thought they ever would.  Thank you for all your thoughts and prayers.  I know they helped with her healing process.  Please keep those good vibes coming, as she will need all the help she can get as she transitions back home and continues her healing.

XENA MUG: I have decided NOT to use my Xena mug for making microwave mug brownies, as I've figured out that the brownies will be forever ingrained on the inside of her nose. How you lived this long without knowing this is beyond me.  Suffice it to say, the Xena mug will stay in the box and the brownies will be made in regular old boring mugs. 


YO QUIERO BAY OF E: I've learned that the average bidding price for those talking Taco Chijuahuas is $4.00 for three talking dogs. That's not exactly a way to bring in quick cash, nor is it worth parting with my three beloved perros. Worse, I don't see that any of them have bids, so they are basically just sitting there, hoping for $4.00.  As for my Dixie Chick concert t-shirt, it isn't even worth what the dogs would bring in.  So much for the mounds of money via the Bay of E.

HAVE TEXT WILL TRAVEL: As for technology, I've learned that my eldest niece texted 18,000 times last month.  That is not a typo.  Eighteen THOUSAND texts in one month....six hundred a day average.  I didn't even know that was possible.  I would assume one's thumbs would fall off texting that much.  I asked her about this.  She said a lot of the texts are one letter, like "K." (For those of you not in the now, "K" means "okay" in text language.)  Even so, six hundred texts a day?  Forget who has time for that nonsense--when does she sleep?

TOOK A BREAK: I purposefully avoided any and all 9-11 specials and reports on TV.  It's just too much, too depressing. I cannot imagine what it must be like to those who were directly involved.  I couldn't avoid all the events televised during the football games, but I did my best to run away and get a snack or flip to something else when they'd show a NY fire man or police man standing there in full uniform while TAPS was played in the background.  Don't even get me started about that Budweiser commercial.  Just thinking about it makes me tear up.

I'd write more but I have to think about this whole Madonna/Gaga thing.  That, and drive around hoping someone gives me a paws up.

Anyone wann

And the greatest is love

Random thought #1: I don't know how parents do it.  How do you ever let your off-spring walk to school? Drive a car? Go on a date? Go away to school?  Oh my goodness, I am watching from a distance--watching my nieces grow up--and can barely take it.  I can barely stand taking care of dogs, it is so traumatic and they don't even go on dates or away to school or learn to drive.  God love all you parents.  You are much better people than I.

Random thought #1.5: I am lucky my parents didn't sell me or change the locks. Just sayin'.

Random thought #2: How much do you think three talking Bell-taco dogs, sealed in their original packaging, would sell for on Bay of E?  (I have no idea--I'm not here to tell you a great auction sale--I'm literally asking.) They still talk, which actually is pretty amazing.  Perhaps I should just give them to my parents for Christmas.  Could there be a better present? I think not. 

If you'd like to make an offer, I am listening.
So are the talking dogs.  I deliver--free shipping!

Random thought #3: I've decided that it was a lot easier to transition to college in the olden days before technology.  We didn't have cell phones, texting, book de la face, twitter or even email.  Heck, we didn't even have computers and we didn't get a land line until like the 6th week of school.  Come to think of it, we didn't have TVs or microwaves, either.  We had a little plug-in hot pot that we'd use to boil water or make some kind of soup product.  Okay, so the Internet and M-TV didn't exist either, but now I'm just sounding old.  It was "sink or swim."  You know, I just remembered that we couldn't have cars on campus our first semester of freshmen year, either....which also led to the "sink or swim" method of transitioning.  Sigh.  I am SO glad I am not a "going to college newbie." 

I am SO glad I am not the parent of a "going to college newbie."

Side random thought #3.5: did cable even exist when I was a college freshman????  I remember watching Luke and Laura's wedding, but that was on regular TV.  M-TV didn't come until the start of my sophomore year....cable?  I don't remember.....I know there were no CDs or DVDs yet and there certainly weren't any ipods.  We had cassette recorders and albums and antenna TV.  But, I cannot recall the arrival of cable.....

Random thought #4: Who were you with on September 11, 2001?  Now that we have arrived at the ten year "anniversary" of September 11, I've been thinking.  I also found--quite by accident--a local newspaper and a People magazine from that day.  (Found 'em while cleaning my plastic storage bins in the basement.  The timing couldn't be more apropos.)  Where where you?  I was with co-workers, on the lower level.  A co worker named Sharon came in and told us about the news.  We had no idea.  Actually, the words she said weren't making any sense--they didn't register.  I stood there while another co-worker, Wes, tried to adjust the TV antenna so we could see the news.  Once he we could see, we wished we couldn't. 

Like everyone else across the nation, I called my mother.

Ten years.  Can it actually have been ten years ago?  If you have lost memories of that day, may I suggest you listen to Alan Jackson's "Where Were You?"  (Link Below)  It's hard to listen to that song without having vivid memories and a lump in your throat.  As Alan says, "and the greatest is love."

 Random thought #5: How awesome is it to receive a Xena mug in the mail? Here I am enjoying the arrival of this gem.  If you are skeptical that little talking dogs will sell on Bay E, here is proof that they will---for pete's sake, I just bought a Xena mug!  The big question is should I use the Xena mug or not? It would sure be fun to drink coffee in a Xena mug every morning.  And, I could eat those brownies in the background when drinking coffee in a Xena mug.  I bought it to add to my collection (you know, Xena shot glass, mugs, dolls, books, shirts, photos, trading cards, lunch box, horse, race cars, etc.), but once I saw it, I thought I might actually have to use it.  I've never seen one on sale before, so that makes me want to collect it, not use it. 

Random thought #6: Life is short.  Burn the candles, wear that outfit, drive that Mustang in the winter, use that Xena mug.
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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c9PwWkV4HQ4
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Of Chipmunks and Healing

The weeds and ever-growing stray grass blades have invaded the flower beds.  The chipmunks are running amok under our patio, under the driveway and through our drain pipes.  My peri-menopausal Kar-dash-back end spread has people breaking out into karaoke versions of "baby got back." The tomatoes are out of control, threatening to take over the neighbor's back yard. The innocently-placed contraband photos continue to be removed from the Addiverse, one by one.  The dogs are bursting with energy. The wife continues to heal from her back surgery. The annual funnel cake has been consumed. Football has once again arrived and so have the football pools.  The Hunger Game Trilogy has once again been read.  Lady Gaga is no longer in drag.  We are just about ready to go to a fabulous birthday party for a dear friend.

In other words, all is well in the Addiverse.

Since I've got nothing to actually whine about--what a glorious thing for both me and you!--I'd like to ask you for something. I don't usually ask for much from you, dear reader--just your unabashed passion for dribble--so, you know this is important and very much on my mind.  I am seeking healing thoughts, prayers, reiki, happy vibes, shaman rituals....whatever you got, my friends need them.  She remains in the burn unit at a local hospital.  Although she is progressing as anticipated (in fact, a whole lot faster than anticipated--she is an overachiever), I'm sure she'd appreciate a little added "boost" from those who are willing to send those healing vibes.  Because she has politely requested anonymity, I will not offer her name or nickname, as avid readers might actually recognize her via this and I want to honor her anonymity.  This might make it hard for you to figure out who to pray "for," so here's how I think we should do it:  picture/envision/hold an image of Xena Warrior Princess in your mind (or, wherever you hold what you need to hold)...then, just send your vibes addressed to "Addi Warrior Princess' friend who is in the burn unit."  I have no doubt the Universe/God force/baby Jesus/Spirit animal/well wishes will find their way to her.  While you are at it, if you'd send a little love to her spouse, that'd be wonderful, as it's tough to watch the healing process of someone who is in a burn unit.  For her, you can picture Gabrielle, Bard of Poteidaia.  Since I fear many of you might not know who this is (which is rather sacrilegious if you ask me), I've included the photo (my own photo, taken at the Xena convention we attended, so no copy write issues!) of these two characters (Xena is the top character on the banner, Gabrielle is the second in line).  If you need further help with visualization, you can picture me as Joxer the Mighty third in line), as that's probably an appropriate association.  Thank you for your help.  It means the world to me and I know it will make a difference to them.

Enough serious stuff.  Let's get back to the chipmunks.  If you have any idea about what to do about the chipmunks, we are all ears.  Please don't tell us to drown them because I will need years of therapy if we actually drown one.  I watched a video of that and needed a paper bag to get over it. Our friends have offered us live traps, so that might be in the future.  I've tried to envision the critters moving on to Florida or some other far away place, but they seem to be intent on sticking around.  They ARE very cute and I do love to see how they scurry around, but really, they need to go.  We are going with the "coffee grounds and moth ball" route for the time being.

I'd write more but I have to go put coffee grounds in chipmunk homes, remove a few more photos from the blog posts, send a little bit of reiki and chakra balancing to the south and eat some brownies. 

Not particularly in that order.  I do believe the brownies will be top priority.

Perhaps the chipmunks would like some brownies to go with their coffee.....perhaps I need to take some healing brownies to my healing friend and her supportive side kick...

You know, I think I'll make some coffee to go with my brownies.  After all, we need more coffee grounds.  Sigh. I am always making such sacrifices.  One has to do what one has to do.  

Happy Labor Day to all.  Thanks for your help with the healing.   :-)

Under construction

As I have been notified of my photo use copyright infringement status (read: used photos gleaned from the Internet and used for visual aids in the blogs) and as I am now officially FREAKED OUT, things are going to be under construction in the Addiverse.  I am literally going blog by blog, removing any photos that aren't mine. Since I've been writing since the end of 2005, I've got a lot of work ahead of me. It is a tedious job, but it must be done.  I meant no harm and certainly didn't think my three readers would be a threat to copyrights.  Alas, I am very mistaken, very sorry and, as I said, FREAKED OUT.  (No one wants to get one of those emails.  Now my name is on some list and I don't know how to get it off.  I don't want to be on a list!)

Another thing I am chewing on is figuring out how to save my work, as all my writing is done directly into the blog, not somewhere else and then transferred.  I write it as I write it. This means that if something happened to the blog, I'd be left with nothing.  Some of you may be thinking that is not much of a loss but I figure with the onset of perimenopause, it might help me remember my antics over the years. If any of you have ideas of how to save the entries, I'm all ears.

So, I ask for your patience.  When you get to a post that looks like it used to have a photo or describes a photo and there is no photo, please just smile and nod.  There will be times this is confusing, as I based the entry on the photo.  Thankfully, I used a lot of my own photos.  I thought about deleting all photos but then I'd lose my own and that seemed a bit like tossing the proverbial baby out with the bathwater.

I'd say more but I've got photos to delete.  Remember: Smile and nod, smile and nod.

Beetle-o-rama

This is a re-write of a previous post. Why? Because I was reported for copyright infringement, of which I shall not argue or speak of any further.  It had to do with the photo I gleaned off the internet, not the content of the blog.  (I am an original in that department.) Suffice it to say the original post has been deleted and I am proud to post this non-copywrite-infringe-tinged post.  I do believe the original of this was posted in 2010.  It took them over a year to address my issue.  I will be going through all my posts to make sure I do not have other issues to address; after all, they will delete my account if I am in further violation and I cannot even go there--where would I be without you in the Addiverse?

When the world comes to its predicted end in 2012 (tongue firmly in cheek), three species will survive: the cockroach (which we all have long known); Sweet William (the plant that is so invasive that I’m surprised it is not yet in our front room); and, the Japanese Beetle. If I had to picks which of the three would survive in the most hearty manner, my money would be on the Japanese Beetle.

Why? Because despite the ten zillion pounds of chemicals we dumped into our yard over the past year (we could probably qualify as a toxic waste dump) and despite the hundreds upon hundreds of dollars we spent to obliterate them, they are looking quite healthy and prolific in our back yard.

Snap! That was a vein snapping in my forehead. Those shiny little buggers make me crazy.

The wife had warned me the critters were back in town but I had yet to see them. Yesterday after work, I went and stared at the tree the Jap Beetles seem to love the most. I really didn’t see anything swarming around and the leaves looked fine, so I foolishly and most mistakenly thought we might have won the war. Today, I was out in the yard pulling weeds (a favorite past time—of this I am serious) and something dive-bombed my head. I pretended not to notice but it happened again.

I recognized that flight pattern.

I wandered over to the still-healthy-looking Flowering Cherry tree and looked up. Sure enough, I saw several Japanese Beetles swimming around toward the top of the tree. I stood there for awhile and observed the activity. It didn’t look like there was too much going on…..

I decided I had to know. I picked up the little trowel I had been using to weed, looked up toward the top of the tree and three that shovel as high as I could, right into the branches nearer the top than not.

The result? Beetle-mania.

I’m telling ya, beetles went everywhere. In the air, on the ground, in my hair, on my shirt.

God Bless America, Japanese Beetles were everywhere. It was disgusting.

Suffice it to say they are indeed back and they are indeed quite healthy. I’m hoping that the leaves are not as tasty as usual and thus the beetles will find elsewhere to go sooner than later. I’ve heard that you have to use the chemicals for many a year before they truly take effect….if that’s the case, I might as well save my money and wait until 2012 when I will no longer realize I have the issue....and they can hang out with their new best friend, the cock roach.

I Do the I Do

I wrote this and then didn't post it. I don't know why I didn't post it--perimenopausal brain fart, I am sure.  Imagine my surprise when I found it dangling out in the Addiverse ozone.  Now that I found it, I'm gonna post it.  I'd hate for your to miss the opportunity to hear that I actually used my ordained minister prowess in the real world for a real wedding.....

I, sister-brother/sister-mister-reverend-warrior-princess, married two people.

Legally.  Seriously.  Incredibly.

     A bride and a groom.  Traditional.
            As an officially ordained minister.

Is life good or what?

(In case you are wondering, I went with the serious-sounding ordination credentials I possess.  I decided not to go with the "Church of the Latter Saint Dudes" ordination.  Maybe next time, dude.) 

The wife was rather frightened by the prospect of me utilizing my ordained minister status, but once I explained to her that this wasn't about me being a religious figure but rather me providing a service and having the credentials to do it, she seemed all good with it....albeit still frightened for the bride and groom.

A service.  I'm not here to talk about the baby Jesus or get all religious.  I am here to marry people.  The baby Jesus is welcomed to attend, but he needs to remain seated quietly in the front row, kind of like my mother and the wife had to remain seated quietly in the nearest set of bushes.  I am providing a professional service that is recognized--and required--by legal entities like the State.

I've decided that being a professional counselor is going to come in mighty handy if I start to get a lot of wedding gigs, as I was more a counselor than anything else yesterday.  Meeting with the bride before the ceremony required empathy, reassurance, skill-stepping....this with a rational, focused bride.  I imagine many brides are on the verge of hysteria, barking orders and trying not to totally freak out.  Standing there with the groom while waiting for the service to begin required the exact same thing.  (The way he was sweating and not speaking, I thought he was going to pass out....I never had that feeling from the bride, so score one for the bride.)  As a counselor-minister, I was able to run interference where it was needed to be run, although this family was thankfully VERY well-behaved and reserved. 

When not counseling, I was pious.  Well, kinda-sorta pious.  Okay, not even close to pious but very professional.

The day started out with pouring rain and stormy conditions.  As this was an outdoor wedding, the weather presented as a potential problem.  When it started to clear up later in the day, I knew it was going to be all right.  I had my lucky umbrella with and I knew if I brought the umbrella, it wouldn't rain. I put the umbrella in the front seat so I wouldn't forget it and then reassured the bride that the sun would indeed be out for the ceremony.  I don't think the bride was too sure I knew what I was talking about when I told her it wasn't going to rain....

It did not rain.

Out of respect to the bride and groom, I will say no more, although I have many thoughts and humorous tidbits. Maybe a few years down the road I'll be able to share many a story all mixed together....

After the ceremony, I was walking back to the car, lucky umbrella in hand.  A police office was driving by, stopped, rolled down his window and cheerfully noted, "well, at least it stopped raining!"  I agreed, held up my lucky umbrella and told him, "I knew if I brought my umbrella along, it wouldn't rain."  He laughed and asked if he could borrow it.  I told him in no uncertain terms: "no."

I can't be sharing my lucky umbrella, especially when I need it to "do the I do."

If you are feeling adventurous and have a hankerin' to get married, keep me in mind.  I'm cheap, I'm fun, I'm simple, I have a lucky umbrella and I can counsel you before/during/after the ceremony so you don't pass out/kill anyone/run screaming away down the street.  I'll even cover all my tattoos or wear a dress at your request...but, that's gonna cost you a whole lot more.