Don't Put Your Lips on It

Seems that I have caught a cold.  It's a pretty lame cold, as far as colds go--I have been "low grade, not very miserable" version, thankfully not "oh-my-god-this-is-the-worst-cold-ever" cold, like some of my co-workers have experienced in the past few weeks.  Everyone at work is sick with some form of disgusting virus or bacteria: I've been dodging Swine Flu, Bronchitis, puking flu, Strep Throat, Pneumonia, regular-non-swine flu, sinus infections, tonsillitis and the common cold. Poor MJagger's household has been swimming in germs for the past three months--they've had everything but the Bubonic Plague and I'm not sure they didn't have that, too.  They've been to the ER, the walk-in, the regular doctor's office and her manly peep was even hospitalized with pneumonia. That's a houseful of germs. (Side note: I am especially grateful to "only" have a cold because I am in MJagger's office more than I am in my own and I use her computer all the time...if there is one thing that has germs, it's a keyboard.  I also use her phone, which is another germ fest. I refused to get MJagger's illnesses.  Seriously.  I refused. I told the Universe that I wasn't having any of that nonsense and I haven't. Thank you, baby jesus and thank you, Universe!)

I'm pretty pleased with my "decision" to go with the cold.  I've been trying not to brag, as I was one of the few left that hadn't caught anything, and I've been putting out thoughts of good health, so I am not too distraught over my "failure" to avoid all illness-producing germs.  Besides, my cold pales in comparison to those around me--I've seen co-workers just about accidentally blow their brains out with bionic sneezing, while others have missed days of work with their version of the wheezing and sneezing cold.  Me? I've gotten away with a 12 hour period of a scratchy throat, followed by 12 hours of non-stop watering eyes...five days of fuzzy thinking with an accompanying feeling of being on the verge of not feeling very good but feeling good enough to do whatever I wanted, a fever that never got above 99 degrees, a bout of ongoing but not copious clogginess and.....a cold sore. This cold sore thing was a complete surprise to me as I almost never, ever get a cold sore; in fact, I can't remember the last time I had one.  As a kid, I used to get canker sores but I rarely ever get those now that I'm an adult (knock on wood, knock on wood, knock on wood). I'm a pretty "sore-free-mouth" kind of girl, so I'm not sure what to do with this thing developing on my lower lip.

The placement of my developing cold sore makes it suspect.  I thought it was a cold sore--after all, I have a cold--but, the wife thinks it might be a canker sore.   It's on my lower lip but it's more on the inside of the lip than not.  Further review suggests it's like an innie-outie belly button--it's kind of inside but kind of outside. The wife's statement that it looked like a canker sore made me think: what the hell IS the difference between a canker sore and a cold sore? A quick jaunt on the Internet suggests that a cold sore is caused by a virus and the canker sore is not. Cold sores are on the outside of your lips and canker sores are on the inside.  Cold sores are contagious and canker sores are not.  Cold sores can lead to some mighty big problems (think Herpes on your naughty bits), while cold sores usually stick to making you miserable and then don't give the gift that keeps on giving.

That said, I'm still not sure what I have.  All I know is that I should not touch my lips and then touch my naughty bits.

As with everything, I turned to Book de la Face for help regarding my cold/canker sore.  My proclamation regarding the development of a cold sore led to many interesting suggestions, of which a few are illustrated here.  Ear wax and toothpaste were also mentioned.  I really got some good ideas here and will be taking this up with my local pharmacy later on in the day.  If it were a canker sore, I would go get some Milk of Magnesia and swish it around, just like my mother taught me to do as a child.  I'm not sure how I'd swish it around considering the placement of this thing but I'd give it the old college try.  I'm probably not going to try putting my own earwax on the thing (and am certainly not put the dog's earwax on it) but I'm might try a bit of OTC TLC. Whatever I do, I won't be kissing you and I won't be touching anything important.

If you come to my place of employment, I suggest you don a mask, gloves and haz-mat suit.  Although we seem to be approaching the end of the work-place plague, it's always better to be safe than sorry.  Do not shake anyone's hand, do not kiss anyone, do not lick anyone's keyboard.  Douse yourself in hand sanitizer and bleach when you leave.  On second thought, just stay home and far away from my co-workers. And, whatever you do, do not kiss me and then touch your naughty bits.  Just sayin.'

I've..got..to...be...a...Macho

Why.Em.See.A

Oh my goodness, is it Friday night already? Okay, so I'm feigning surprise.  I know what day it is. I consumed a vat of brownies earlier in the day and am in a sugar coma, but I still am coherent enough to know what day it is. Tonight, I am trying to stay awake long enough to go to a party in honor of our dear friend, so I have no excuse for not writing this blog.  I.must.stay.awake!  We're not used to going OUT at 8:30 PM....we are used to coming IN at 8:30 PM.

I have had oodles of things on my mind....happy thoughts for our Golden Apple friend....conflicting thoughts about the wild turkeys meandering in our yard (they seem to be making a daily visit, tossing mulch left and right)....wondering what to do about my M D N A license plates, as I'm sick of everything thinking they say MONA....putting out good thoughts for Jobi the Wonder Dog (who, thanks to the miracles of modern medicine, is the recipient of new new eye lenses---who knew dogs get cataracts?)...healing thoughts for Captain Harley.....fun memories of American Bandstand.....contemplating the merits of the 17th Annual Day of Silence....pondering how naughty substances became associated with 4/20....and, truth be told, December 2012.

Now that Dick Clark died--after all, he is the king of New Years Eve--I predict things are going to start getting weirder and weirder, faster and faster.  Damn those Mayans.  MJagger says I'm the only one thinking about these things, but won't she be sorry when she didn't take December 21st off and I have the day off. These three diddies were on my Book de la Face wall yesterday, so don't tell me people aren't thinking about these things. (Thanks to those whose artwork is depicted here.  I'd give you appropriate credit but Book de la Face isn't very helpful in this department.  I do see that the ecard thing is appropriately acknowledged, so one out of three ain't bad.  I make no claim to these illustrations; I am merely sharing their genius with you.)

I think I shall stick to talking about Mr. Clark, as that is a much happier topic than the stupidity that might surround the end of this calendar year.  I loved American Bandstand.  L.O.V.E.D.  My mother claims that she used to plop me in the playpen (located conveniently right in front of the TV) and have me watch AB while she did household duties.  I believe her because I adore music and I love the concept of musicians performing/dancing/lip-syncing on the tube. I'm guessing I didn't even move when AB was on--I probably begged to be put in that aptly-located pen. Can't you just hear Barry Man.O.Low singing the theme song?   I honestly really can remember seeing ABBA, Blondie, Andy Gibb (yum!), The Osmonds, Michael Jackson,  Madonna, Adam and the Ants (oh, how I loved Adam!), the Carpenters, Barry Man.O.Low and, of course, David Cassidy on AB.  The Number One band (and, I do use that term loosely) on my list of "Most Memorable Memories of American Bandstands of Addiverse Past" is....

....The Village People.

I'm serious.

When I think of AB, I think of the Village People.  Cop. Biker. Construction Worker. Cowboy. Soldier. Indian. I can remember thinking, "who ARE these people and why are they dressed like that?" I wanted to BE one of those people.  Macho Men, YMCA and In The Navy can make a bad day so much better, even 30+ years later.  (How I didn't catch one iota of all that gayness oozing from the songs and the band until I was at least 35, I do not know.  Sigh. I'm the same person who missed what Kiss You All Over and Afternoon Delight had to do with, so no surprise I didn't catch on quickly to my People.)

I loved the Village People.  How can you not love a band of six grown men in such stereotyped outfits? If memories serves me right, I do believe my sister owned two of their albums and that we would imagine ourselves being a Village Person (which is way weird because I was in high school when they were at the top of their game and I should have been way too old to worry about being a village person).

This jog down memory lane brings up thoughts of Midnight Special, Soul Train and Solid Gold....the glory days before the arrival of MTV in 1981 (which is a whole 'nother chapter in my life).....

.....but, really it was all about the Village People.  Spell it with me!

Have Filter, Will Travel

I'm not ignoring you.  I swear.  I've been busy trying to figure out the new blogger way of being, repeatedly listening to Madonna's album, trying to figure out if I am or am not pregnant in the State of Arizona, getting my myo fascial released, chasing turkeys out of the backyard...and, changing the car cabin air filter on my own. Sweet! I was so excited by that adventure that I made the wife take a photo of me at the completion of my conquest. (That's one dirty filter, if you ask me.) Now, many of you are not impressed--after all, if you know how to change a car cabin air filter, you are chuckling and wondering what the hell I could be excited about.  For those of you who didn't even know we had an air filter in the car cabin, you are probably at least a wee bit impressed.  I thought I'd save some money by doing this task by myself.  I went to the auto store, bought the filter and brought it home.  I wasn't sure what to do next and the car book didn't say anything besides "change your cabin air filter."  I didn't even know where it was located (the dirty one--the new one was in the box in my hand).  The wife asked only one question during the endeavor:...

The wife: "Did you read the directions?

Me: "Of course I did!"

Okay, I lied.  I didn't even know there were directions.  I looked at the box and I looked in the car book but I didn't read or even see any directions.  Thankfully, when I pulled the new filter out of the box (to take one last look at it), the directions fell out and floated to the ground.  After reading them and seeing that it would take me "twelve easy minutes," I was good to go.   I changed that puppy in under three minutes.

No, I am not going to tell you where it is located or how to change it.  You can pay me for that information. It'll cost you.

In case you think I'm kidding about turkeys, here they are, milling about in the backyard:

They are making quite the mess.  They do this weird thing with their feet/claws/talons/hooves and throw mulch all over the place.  Maybe they were trying to throw mulch at me so I would move along.  That's better than them trying to spray me with something, to be sure.  The wife has been wondering what/who the heck is messing up her mulch--the holes are obvious and much bigger than I would anticipate from a mourning dove or ground squirrel (which are back and remain on my poop list--photos sure to follow in a few weeks).  I should have taken a video  of the "tossing turkeys" because it was pretty impressive how far they were chucking that mulch.

Just so we are clear, the Madonna album has grown handsomely on me; in fact, at times I feel like there is an ear worm eating into my brain and I can't get this or that song out of my head.  The wife will sigh and say, "is that ALL you are going to sing?"  I appreciate that a few of you have emailed me/messaged me/posted comments here about the whole MDNA thing.  I've decided that the louder you play the album, the better it is.  I was meant to dance.  I've read a ton of blogs and articles about the album and it's a mixed bag.  The only thing mixed about it for me is a dance mix.

While I'm dancing, I think I'll enjoy our trees, which are out of control.  We have two trees that I swear are growing carnations.  The wife says they are some form of cherry tree but I don't see no stinkin' cherries--just carnations.  The entire tree is one big pink carnation.  The warm winter and early spring has led to an explosion of color of which is at least four weeks early and much brighter than usual.  The freeze hasn't been good to the hydrangeas but the rest of the flowers look no worse for the wear and the trees look spectacular.  Take a peek at the tree behind me in the car filter photo--that's a carnation tree if I've ever seen one. You know, I could make a few bouquets and hand them out--change a filter, share a bouquet.

I think there might be turkey on the menu if the wife has her say about it.

All is well in the Addiverse as my new license plates have arrived and they just happen to match my new Madonna album.  I know this is shocking to you; after all, what are the chances that my new plates would have anything to do with Madonna, let alone be the SAME as the album title?

Unfortunately, I have learned that the title of her album is not only reference to her name (sans vowels) but also a nod to the drug ectasy (otherwise known as MDMA).  So we are clear, I do encourage use of Madonna albums but do not encourage the use of dance floor drugs, even when Madonna albums are playing under the disco ball.

Enough about pop culture and license plates.  I need to talk about our lawn.  I can't wrap my head around it.  The grass is the greenest, plushest, healthiest it has EVER looked. EVER.  I mean since the day we moved in, it has never looked better. Usually at this time of year, it's still brown-straw-ish and there are all sorts of dead spots from dog pee.  This year, I am supposing because of the ridiculously mild winter, the grass never really got brown and we never seemed to develop the dog pee rings.  We've already had to mow three times and we just crossed into April.  As long as it keeps raining now and again, we are going to have the most beautiful green carpet for a front yard.

I went to lunch with two youngsters earlier in the week.  They are half my age, so they qualify as youngsters. The grrrrlz asked me to go with them so they could ask questions of their elder (me).  They have been together for one year and wanted to talk to someone who had been together with someone for longer than that.  The wife and I definitely qualify.  Since the wife was unable to attend the lunch, I was left to my own devices to answer the questions posed.  For some reason, they started with the topic of arguing.

Grrrl 1: "What do you argue about?"
Me: Blank stare.  "Um.  Argue?"
Grrrrl 2: "Yeah, what DO the two of you argue about?"
Me: "Now? Or, way back when?"
Grrrls look at each other. Grrrl 2 shrugs her shoulders.
Grrrrl 1: "Now."
Me: "Gosh.  We tend to bicker.  We don't argue very much anymore. Um, I guess we argue about the lawn."

Talk about blank stares.

Me: "Well, I don't think the lawn needs to be cut yet and she does.  She worries about things like that.  I don't. So we argue about that."


I can tell they think I am from another planet.

Me (trying again): "I guess that sounds silly.  Huh. We argue about me not taking my shoes off in the house."

Now they are SURE I am from another planet.

Me (trying not to sound so old): "We used to argue about money.  Does that help?"

I can tell this does not help.  What the hell are they arguing about? It's certainly not about money, shoes or the lawn.  There is nothing I can do but ask, "Why do you want to know what we argue about?"
Grrrrl 2: "Do you argue about having friends?"

Ah! Now we are getting somewhere.  Me: "You mean about having friends? Like our "own" friends?"
Grrrrl 1 gives a dirty look at Grrrl 2, then spits out "That is exactly what I mean."  I swear I see  Grrrl 1 stick her tongue out at Grrrl 2.
Me: "You mean do I have my own friends and does the wife have her own friends and do we have together friends?"
Both grrrrls light up and exclaim "YES!" at the same time.

So, this is what they are arguing about.  Dear god, you could not pay me enough to be their age again.  Never.  The mega-millions would not be enough.  I sure do like bickering about the lawn more than this kind of thing.

Me: "Well, I have my own friends, the wife has her own friends, we have together friends, we have work friends, we have non-work friends, we have gay friends, we have straight friends, we have old friends, we have high school friends.  We have lots of friends. We have all kinds of friends. Why do you ask?"
Grrrl 1: "Oh, I don't know."
Grrrl 2 (with a growl and a glare): "Oh, you do too know.  SHE doesn't think I should have any friends besides her.  I think I should be able to go out with friends without her. I bet you can go out with your friends and the wife doesn't care."

Ooooh.  This has potential to get ugly.  There are steak knives at this table. I've got to figure out a way to diffuse the situation.  I decide there is only one thing to do--talk about something else.

Me: "Did you see my new license plates?"


This works like a charm.  They are totally thrown off kilter.  Me: "My new plates are all about Madonna.  She has a new album out, you know."

For the record, 25 year olds do not care that Madonna has a new album; in fact, I'm not sure they know who Madonna is.  I can tell that they have decided to stop asking questions and find someone who is a little less elderly to talk about such things like arguing.  There is only one other thing I can do:

Pick up the tab.

This also works like a charm.  Old people like me have more money than young people like them.  Who can argue when someone is paying for your lunch?

And so, the rest of the meal went swimmingly.  I don't think I helped them solve anything in regards to their relationship but I do think I reinforced the fact that getting older isn't all that bad...after all, I've got nothing more to worry about than if the lawn needs to be cut or if people understand my license plates and I have money to pay for lunch....

I think they decided that getting old people as friends is a safe way to go.

Lest you think I didn't leave them with any pearls of wisdom, let me assure you that I convinced them NOT to get each other's named tattooed on themselves.  I told them that is it NEVER okay to get someone else's name tattooed on your person unless it is your mother or your children's names.  NEVER.  I don't have the wife's name tattooed on me and I never will.  Call me superstitious but that would be like the kiss of death.  I made them promise not to do anything ridiculous like that.

See? Old people still do know what they are talking about, even if they don't have anything to argue about besides lawns and shoes.