Wednesday, February 22, 2012

I am sure my mom will find it a very positive sign that I am here to write this blog.  Just 48 short hours ago, my continued existence was tentative.  Well, at least in my opinion it was tentative.....

As I had elected to work for three hours on a holiday, I decided to reward myself with a little tasty frozen tidbit once I had completed the tasks at hand.  I thought holiday pay should involve up-scale frozen products, so I drove to across town to enjoy a bowl of "healthy" frozen yogurt--at the place in town named after a scarlet fruit (that's all I'm saying--no names here).  I was giddy with delight as I approached the building, as I hadn't had a bowl of this stuff in many months.  Member's card in hand, I entered the building, knocking virgin scarlet fruits out of the way (meaning: people who had never been there who were IN.MY.WAY).  I grabbed my bowl and bellied up to the bar--er, I mean the row of yogurt machines and considered my options.....

If you've never visited a scarlet fruit place, you don't know what you're missing.  You get to make your own yogurt sundae--mix and match as you please.  I think there are ten flavors to chose from--I'm usually too excited to be there that I've never really counted.  After you fill your bowl with whatever yogurts you want, you head to the topping bar, which is filled with just about anything you can think of that would be acceptable to sprinkle on a sundae.  Fruit, candy, cookies, syrups, nut-like products...even carob! They charge you buy weight, so the bigger the sundae, the more you pay.  (Trust me when I say this is an expensive endeavor for me.)  I usually opt for things like blueberries (that's so I can say I was healthy), carob chips (for no known reason other than I actually enjoy them in some sadistic way) and cookie products. 

I started with the "original" flavor, as it's one of my favorites--tart, clean, healthy-tasting. As I approached the machine, I remember thinking how clean it smelled in the place.  Remember this, as it will be important in just a few seconds.  I took a tug on the handle and the yogurt slowly oozed out.  As I was standing there, I thought more about the clean smell, as now I realized it was the smell of sanitation--I know this because I have my food service sanitation blessing and because I spent two years of sheer torture worrying about kitchen safety.  I thought, "how great is it that they are keeping the machines clean, considering the flu that is going around."  I moved down the row, deciding to keep it simple today: just two flavors.  I then kept it even simpler, opting for only blueberries and some chocolate chip cookie dough. 

While I was waiting for the virgin scarlet fruits to get out of my way, I scratched my nose....and thought, wow--that's pretty powerful stuff."  My hand smelled like cleaning product, which I attributed to the freshly clean yogurt machine handle.  I paid for my yogurt, got in the car, drove away and started eating while driving (a sin almost as bad as texting while driving, if you ask me).  I couldn't wait but I had to get home to let the dogs out.

My first bite wasn't pleasant--it was confusingly chemical laced.  Eyes on the road, spoon in my hand, I took another bite.  Ugh.  Chemicals.  I am sure I am tasting chemicals.  This makes no sense, so I take another bite.... 

Of course I do.  This stuff is expensive.  You think I'm not going to eat it because of a little chemical taste?  This bite makes my nose turn up.  I realize it is the smell and taste of food grade sanitizer.  I realize that my yogurt has somehow been tainted with cleaning products.

Instead of turning around (I was almost home) and instead of not eating any more, I ate more.  I told you, I'm cheap and I was really looking forward to this stuff. I'm not ashamed to say I ate the whole thing.  I was really glad the place was doing their part to keep customers safe with their clean machines....my thinking was that food grade sanitizer couldn't kill me.

Could it?

I ate that whole damn bowl of chemically enhanced frozen yogurt and then smelled the empty bowl to make sure I wasn't imagining things.

I wasn't.

That's when "the chemical burps" started.  I am here to tell you there is NOTHING quite like a chemical burp.  "Yup, that's sanitizer."  It tasted much worse coming out than it did going in--and, that's not saying much.  I decided I best call the store and see if they could tell me what exactly I had just eaten.

Now, think about this: I am going to call a yogurt store run by 12 year olds and tell them I just ate an entire bowl of their product despite it tasting like it was doused in cleaning solution.  What do you think they are going to think when I make this claim?

Me: Hi.  I was just at your place--I think it was 11:40 am.  I'm calling because my yogurt taste like cleaning products and I'm wondering what you use to clean your yogurt machine.

Yo-guy:  (silence)

Me: I know that sounds crazy, but my [flavor] yogurt tasted like sanitizer.

Yo-guy: Bring it back and we'll give you a new bowl of yogurt.  We'll take care of you.

Me: No, no--I'm not looking for anything free.  I just want to know what kind of cleaning solution you use.  I just want to make sure I am not going to die.

(I swear to you, I used that exact statement.)

Yo-guy: Bring your yogurt back--

Me: No, you don't understand.  I ate the whole thing.  Definitely sanitizer.  Do you know what is in the product you use? (I was going to ask for MSDS information but figured he wouldn't know what the hell I was talking about.)  I just want to know what it in it so I can figure out if I need medical attention or if I'm going to die from eating this.

Yo-guy: We clean our machines every morning with a sanitizer and some water.  We clean them out thoroughly.  There isn't any sanitizer in your yogurt.

Me: But, what DO you use? What's in it?

Yo-guy: Let me get your name and take care of you.  What's your name? Next time you come in, I'll make sure you get some yogurt.  I've got these dollar off coupons, too."

Me: Seriously.  Am I going to die or not?

Yo-guy: Look, I've already cleared $600 in business today and not one other customer has had a complaint. You're the only one.  When you stop in, I'll set you uup.

Me: So, you're not going to tell me what I just ate? You are not going to reassure me that I'm not going to die, are you?  I don't want anything from you--just the product name.

I could tell the guy thought I was just after some free yogurt or a lawsuit.  I wasn't interested in either.  I just wanted a list of chemicals.

As the burping was getting worse, I took matters in my own hands: I called my parents.

Now, most of you would NOT want to call your parents in such a situation, but my parents owned their own yogurt business many a year ago and I figured they would be able to tell me if I was going to die or not.  Besides, my father has worked in food service all his life AND he still works in the business.  He's practically married to sanitation products.  My father asked me several questions, all of which confirmed my wise decision to call him instead of some stupid corporate office.  I was feeling relieved already (well, besides the chemical burps and little shred of terror that I was going to die).  He explained how they probably did cleaned the machine in the morning and just didn't rinse it out as required.  Besides encouraging me to flush the stuff out of me (lots of water, I am picturing, although at this point, flushing myself with beer came to mind), his answer to combat certain doom from yogurt poisoning was:

"Eat some pizza."

How can you not love someone who tells you to eat some pizza in the face of certain doom?

Well, there were many other words of wisdom in there but I glommed on to the pizza suggestion.  I wondered to myself if Mexican food would work, as that is what I planned on eating for lunch (you didn't think that yogurt was my lunch, did you? That was just the warm up act).  My parents didn't seem to think I was going to die, didn't tell me to call an ambulance or anything like that...and, so I felt quite relieved.  I thanked them for their parenting-and-food-service-expertise and went on with my day, chemical burps and all.

My advice to you?  

If something tastes like chemicals, you should not eat it. 

Who the hell eats an entire bowl of something that tastes like cleaning fluid?  I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't done it myself. No wonder that 12 year old manager didn't take me seriously one bit.

My advice to you if you DO eat something that tastes like chemicals? Call my parents.  They are food service experts, waiting to help.  Obviously they know what they are talking about, as I am still here to type this blog and I don't think I am any worse for the wear. 

I am fresh and pretty and sanitized, inside and out. Perfect for cold and flu season!

I'm not sure I'll ever be able to eat scarlet fruit yogurt ever again.  If/when I do, I will wait til the end of the day so the machines have had time to dispense all the chemical-laden yogurt by the time I get there.

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Freeze Frame

I had a sobering event this week at work.  All staff were asked to have new photo I.D.s taken, so I meandered my way down to the office and smiled pretty for the camera.  The lady snapped my photo and went off to make my new name badge.  I didn't think too much about it, as I was mighty pleased with my wardrobe choice of the day and my hair was looking better than not. I also had my new glasses on, so I was ready for my close up.  I don't mind having my photo taken and they usually turn out okay--I've even had good luck with my driver's license photos, so no worries for me.

Imagine my surprise when I picked up my new name badge that was lurking in my mailbox....and, found what I considered to be a god-awful photo.  I was beside myself. Who the hell was this person in this photo? I zipped down to MJagger's office and waved my name badge in the air, ragging about how much I hated the photo as I waved it in her face.  I made it quite clear that I was not happy about how bad I looked.  I yipped and yapped and bitched and moaned....MJagger finally had enough and grabbed the name badge from me:

MJagger: Let me see that thing.

Me: It's awful! I don't think I've ever taken a worse photo.

MJagger: It's a good photo.  What are you talking about?

Me: I'm not wearing that thing! That's a horrible picture! Look at my glasses.  It makes me look like I have a peanut head.

MJagger: You have a peanut head.

Me: You know what I mean!  It looks more peanut-y with those lenses distorting everything.  See?

MJagger:  Mmmm.  Yeah, I guess.  I see what you're talking about.  That's how you look, tho.  There's nothing wrong with that picture.

Me: Well, I'm not wearing this.  I am going upstairs to demand a new photo!  (pause)  I look like this?

MJagger: Yeah, you look like that.  That's a good photo.

Me: I'm not wearing this. UGH!

I marched up the stairs, muttering the whole way.  When I got to the office, I held out my badge and loudly expressed my dislike of the photo:

Me: I can't wear this! Look at this photo.  It's terrible!  Please--I'm begging you.  Let me take another photo.

Office lady: That's a nice picture. 

Me: It's horrible!

Office Lady: Let me see that.  (Looks at name badge.) That's not bad at all.  You should see some of them.  Mine is horrid.

Me: Please--I'll do whatever you want.  Just take another photo.

Office Lady:  Really.  There's nothing wrong with that picture.

Me:  ANYTHING! I'll do ANYTHING!  I'm not wearing this!

Office Lady: Fine.  Come over here.  I'll take your picture but there is nothing wrong with this one.

Me: thank you.  There is no way I'm wearing this one.

Flash!

I left the office feeling triumphant and much happier.  I couldn't wait to get my new name badge.

The next day, I went to my mail box and wa-la! New name badge.  I grabbed the badge, excited I wouldn't have to wear that other pathetic one......

Imagine my surprise when I looked at the photo.....

....and it looked exactly the same as the previous one.  I knew it wasn't the same photo as I had different clothes on and my hair was different.  This left me confused. Wait a minute......this looks like the other photo....I don't under---I stopped in my tracks.


This left me with the absolute truth: That is what I look like! I marched back down to MJagger's office and showed her the picture. 

Me: Do I look like this?

MJagger: [confused stare] Huh?

Me: Like this! This photo! This photo--do I look like this?

MJagger: Of course you do.  That's a nice picture.

Me: UGH! That's what I look like?

MJagger: [looking a wee bit annoyed] Yes, of course it is.

Me: Dear god, it wasn't the photo.  It was.....it was.....me!

MJagger: It looks like the other photo.  Look at mine if you want to see a bad photo.

And so, I came to realize that this is what I now look like.  This is what happens when you are 49 and 3/4 years old. 

I remember looking at one of my friends a few years back. She had just turned 50 and had always had such a youthful look.  Well, right after she turned 50, I took a long gander at her I realized she looked....well, older.  Somehow, suddenly, her skin had changed, her face had changed.  Her jaw line had changed.  Her neck had changed.  She looked her age, which stopped me in my tracks.  It was like it happened over night.  I remember being perplexed at how someone could be 49 years old and look one way and only months later look another. 

I should have paid closer attention because that, dear friends, is what has happened to me.  It's not good or bad.  It just is what it is.  It is what it is and there really is no changing it.  Well, unless you are Madonna.  Then, you can have surgery.  But really, there isn't anything else you can do. 

There is nothing like a bad driver's license photo or a true-to-life-you-are-50-work name badge photo to slap you right into reality.   Everyone sees you from the outside every day.  We don't really see ourselves.  We look from the inside out and our insides don't exactly think there has been a change on the outside.  I am here to tell you that the change on the outside sneaks up on you when you are not looking. 


I went and apologized to the office lady, admitting that the first picture was fine.  To her credit, she didn't chastise me or say anything even remotely smug. I thanked her for indulging my need in a new photo because I thought there was something wrong with the first one.

Me: I thought it was the photo....but, really it's just my face.

Office lady: Your face.  (It was not a question, but rather a statement.)

Me: Yeah, my face.  I'm sorry I made such a ruckus about the photo.  I really did think it was the photo.  It's just my face.   That's how I look.  I had no idea.  When did this happen?

Office lady: Mmmm-hmmm.  It's a nice photo.  You should see mine.

Hell, she just turned 50. She understands my pain.  Both of us are stuck staring at name badges that make no sense to us.

Maybe we should trade name badges.  At least we'd be looking at some other 50 year old.

Thursday, February 09, 2012

Ell. You. Vee. In Concert

The year: 2008.  That's the last time Madonna was in town.  2008. So very, very long ago. September 2012.  That's the next time Madonna is coming to town.  Not so very far away!

I am ridiculously excited to tell you that MJagger and I have secured Madonna tickets for her upcoming world tour. This just hours after Madonna's Super Bowl extravaganza.  The only thing that could be better is getting Madonna AND Lady Gaga tickets in the same twenty four hours.....

....well, that didn't quite happen, but Lady Gaga DID announce some of her tour dates within 24 hours of our Madonna ticket purchase, which is pretty dang fantastic.  Both of them going on tour this fall. Sweet! Coincidence that Gaga announced tour dates within 24 hours of Madonna's tickets going on sale? I think not.  It's hard to be Lady Gaga when you know everyone has been been babbling about Madonna for the past week. 

Thank the pop-culture-gods that Book de la Face alerted me of the Madonna tickets going on sale. There I was, drinking my coffee while perusing the Face page when I saw the Madonna announcement.  I spit coffee and starting texting MJagger--there was Madonna to be had!  We didn't have time to devise a plan or worry about charge card accounts--this required immediate action.

We got our tickets during the pre-sale.  If you haven't been in the business of buying concert tickets lately, you have no idea what a racket it has become.  (A racket that involves all sorts of add-on fees, I might add.) You don't go anywhere and stand in line. You don't call a place to order your tickets. You don't even buy them on the day they technically go on sale. No, it's a new game.  You go to a ticket business on line and you push your reset button a million times in a row during the pre-sale event, of which you need a special code once you are blessed with the opportunity to purchase tickets.  Unfortunately, no matter how good you are with a reset button and no matter that you have a pre-sale code, you are not at the same advantage as everyone else....because for every pre-sale code in the world, there is someone else out there with a pre-pre-sale code.

See? I smell a racket.

I happen to have the pre-sale code because MJagger and I are in the Madonna Fan Club. (Of course we are.  Did you have a doubt?)  Even though I had this magic code, the people in the Legacy level of her fan club got first dibs on tickets in the pre-pre-sale--one hour earlier than us peons in the Icon level of the fan club.  One hour of crazed Madonna fans means a whole lot of tickets got sold before we got our chance.  Oh, and by the way--those Legacy level fan club members get dibs on the first 20 rows.  Not a Legacy level, not gonna be getting a shot at the first 20 rows. Grrrrr.  I took the best available seats I could find.  I had several browsers open at the same time in order to try and get the best seats out there.  Well, by the time it was our turn, we got the scraps.  Madonna will not be dripping sweat on us or spitting on us when she sings.  That's what me and MJagger really want.  We want to be able to see the infamous diastama in close proximity.  We want to see the spittle when Madonna is singing. Instead, we will be seeing her just fine but not as close as we'd want to be, especially for the amount of money we paid for our tickets.

Do not ask how much a Madonna ticket costs.  You won't believe me. Google it.  Don't forget to add all those surcharges and handling fees and convenience charges when you compute the actual total. At least the ticket was cheaper than Lucy's dental surgery.

The actual ticket sales don't start until next week.  Wonder what will be left? You better believe I'll be looking, just in case.  I'll also be watching the various ticket-selling-web sites to make sure we're not missing something (another part of the racket, I might add).

As for Mother Monster, MJagger and I are piddling with glee about going to her concert, too.  We believe it is possible to be both a Madonna and a Lady Gaga fan.  I know, I know, there aren't many of us out there that subscribe to this tenet.

Can't we all just get along?

No, it appears not.  It's a jungle out there in the pop diva world.

Sunday, February 05, 2012

Ell. You. Vee. Madonna.

Well, the new Madonna video and song have been releasedI've been so distracted, disturbed, disappointed, delighted, detoured by the whole thing.  Since seeing/hearing it, I've been trying to understand it.  After all, I am a Madonna whore and it is my obligation to do so. It's got me obsessed.  I spent all yesterday afternoon and evening looking for explanations and interpretation. I muttered aloud about it. My wrist hurts from all the non-moused-based web searching that was completed (I used the little laptop mouse thing, which is always a bad idea--use a mouse, people!).  I watched the video again and again.  I watched some of Madge's old videos for reference.  I approached it from a WWMD perspective.  I read article after article until my eyes got blurry.....

What did I learn? That most other people have no clue what is going on in the video.  I learned that the majority of people reviewing the video missed a lot of what was going on in the video.  People, Madonna is more than a 53 year old cheerleader!

(I also learned that the Little Monsters are haters.  I am all befuckled by this as I, too am a little monster and I don't understand this kind of thinking.  There is a Little Monster campaign to go on Madonna sites and posts and write hateful things. I don't get that.  Sigh. Mother Monster needs to put an end to this.)

But, I digress.  I am proud to say that I think I've figured out most of the video but.....

If you haven't seen the video or haven't heard the song, run quickly and hide until after the Super Bowl because I guarantee at least part of the song will be included in today's half time show at the Super Bowl and it will get in your head and you will be doomed.   Or, if you are living on the edge, you can just watch the video I posted and get over it faster.  (No haters about how old Madonna is, please.  If the Rolling Stones and Bruce Springsteen can take the stage during half time and she's younger than them--and, she's obviously in much better shape than them--she can take the stage and do just fine.)

"Gimme all your luvin" is like that "Red Solo Cup" song: it has really stupid lyrics with a simple, catchy tune.....that gets in your head, latches on your brain cells and refuses to leave.   It.is.stuck.in.there whether or not you want it to be.  (It's also like that Krave cereal of which I spoke of a few blogs back.  I wasn't impressed and gave it so-so reviews. Well, now I can't stop thinking about it and like to eat it like candy.  Good for nothing marketing.)

I'm serious when I say I couldn't fall asleep last night because that stupid song kept rolling over and over and over in my head. For an hour, I kept hearing cheerleaders chant "L. U. V. Madonna!" Now, I admit part of the problem was that I watched the video at least a dozen times trying to figure it out; after all, Madge isn't going to make something that doesn't have some meaning to it.  I've got most of it figured out-- she is making reference to herself (a narcissist homage, I suppose), to her old songs and to her old videos (such as Material Girl, Like a Virgin, Dick Tracy) and she is giving a nod to the Super Bowl, at which she will perform today.  All the football players in the video are wearing the number 36, which obviously is a nod to something.  Since she's not 36, she's not dating a 36 year old (she dates men younger than that, sillies), she's had more than 36 top ten singles and she's only been performing for 30 years, not 36, I am left to speculate that the 36 is in reference to her being #36 on the Rolling Stone listing of the "100 Greatest Artists" (of which probably pisses her off because she should be in the top 10).

....But, the baby?  The beginning of the video starts with her bursting through a door pushing a baby cart; the last scene of the video is her tossing a baby off stage (this after breast feeding it at one part of the video, which really freaks me out.  No 53 year old woman should be breast feeding a baby, no matter what the reason).  I've been thinking about the baby reference ever since seeing it the first time.  One of my Book de la Face friends had the same reaction....even posted, "and, I didn't even see any bathwater!"  I've been left to my own devices on this. I know in the next few hours that someone will post a detailed interpretation of the video but until then I am going with what I am going to make up.

My tossing of the baby theory: I do not think the baby references in general have anything to do with being a housewife or raising children, as suggested in some other posts.  That's too literal and not Madonna-esque. Besides, do you really think Madonna is a housewife? And, she's too savvy to make fun of the housewife, so that's not it at all.  (Ah, the pain of being an abstract thinker instead of a concrete thinker. Nothing can be what it seems.)  Madonna is giving birth to and raising the new performers of the world (read: she takes credit for being the ultimate inspiration for all the new/young/up and coming/ successful performers of today's radio age), nurtures them (breast feeds them)....but, throwing out the baby?  I am fearful this is in reference to Mother Monster: Madonna is saying that she's not afraid, she's still the queen, she's still in charge and she is tossing aside that this thing she gave birth to is not going to rain on her Super Bowl parade.

I pray my theory is not true, as if I am correct, it means my beloved queen of pop is kicking sand in the face of my mother monster.  It's lose-lose.  It breaks my pop-music-loving heart.

I'm going to have to consult with my Madonna-loving, concert-going pal MJagger about this whole thing.  She is the only one who could possibly understand and embrace my obsession with this nonsense.

The new album won't be released until the end of March (after the debut of "The Hunger Games," I do note, of which I am SUPER excited), so you'll be spared of ongoing Madonna whining until then. (Well, you'll have to listen to rantings about the Super Bowl half time, but that will be short lived.)  I remember being disappointed by "Hard Candy" the first time I heard it, but then it really grew on me, so I have hope for M.D.N.A.  I am prepared to be disappointed during the first six or seven listens, but I know Madge will come through for me in the end.

Besides, admit it--YOU, if you were a 53 year old woman--wouldn't mind looking like Madonna.  Piss on the plastic surgery--who cares?  So what about the hot pants and peek-a-booing belly? That is one amazing 53 year old woman.  (BTW, why do we talk about women artist ages when we don't talk about the men until they're like 150 years old?)  She's got a rockin' body.  She looks incredible.  She makes me feel like a younger blob of cheezy wiblets. I wish I looked half as good as her Madgesty.....

....just don't let me look like a 53 year old breast-feeding hottie.

Thursday, February 02, 2012

Say.Hey.Cay.Nine. Cracker.

I'm sorry I'm a few days behind in blogging--I've been very distracted by the whole New Madonna album, new Madonna video AND the pending Madonna half time show at the Super Bowl.  It's an exciting time to be a Madonna Whore....

...almost as exciting as the mail Lucy and Freckles received today.  No, they did not receive tampons in the mail (which is ALWAYS exciting); rather, they received St. Francis of Assisi Pet Medals from their beloved grandmother.  Talk about dogs that could use some love from St. Francis.  These party pups are going to wear these medals every day for the rest of their lives.  Thanks, Wild Mama!  Four paws up.  Here's to lowering our vet bills through some good old fashioned patron saint prayer.

But, back to our previously scheduled program.

Lucy's visit to the dog chiropractor went swimmingly.  The wife and I loaded the pups into the car and we headed west.  Dog chiropractors seem to be few and far between in these parts, so a road trip was a requirement of this endeavor.  We set off into the setting sun (literally--dear god, it was rather torturous driving straight into the sun) with hopes of cures and miracles.  Forty five minutes later, we were in the parking lot of said dog chiropractor's place of business.  We were greeted by our friends Spotted Owl and Ingabor Logjammer, dog fans and dog chiropractor supporters who live in town (which is our out of town).  The wife, friends and Freckles got comfortable in the waiting room while Lucy and I headed to the treatment room, a large open space in sight of the business area & office staff.

Those of you who know Lucy know that she LOVES everyone and she LOVES to give disgusting, smelly kisses and she NEEDS to be with everyone she sees. NEEDS! It PAINS her when she cannot give a proper greeting or share a hearty display of affection.  So, you can imagine how much she loved waiting for the doctor to arrive, all the while unable to profess her love to the office staff.  At first, it was just tail-wagging and wiggling in happiness.  Next came some little puffing sounds.  Next came the small barks. Then came the big barks!  Since that wasn't working, she gave the "cattle are lowing" sound, always an attention getter.  When she does that, she is miffed.  Oh, the agony of having to sit in that corner and wait her turn!  
Thankfully, Dr. Cay Ninecracker entered the room and saved Lucy's day--no more cattle are lowing sounds needed.  If you are wondering what a dog chiropractor looks like and what he or she wears, I tell you to picture what your chiropractor looks like and you will have your answer. This makes total sense because Dr. Cay Nine Cracker IS a chiropractor of people.  Dr. K9 Cracker put on her lab coat (so she wouldn't get dog fur on her people patients) and gave Lucy all the love and attention she had been so desperately seeking.  As Lucy was jumping up and down on her back legs, it was pretty clear that the reason for her visit was not exactly present itself in a fashion it would have a week before.   No matter, Dr. K9 focused on giving Lucy lots of love and kisses; thus, Lucy was quite satisfied and very forgiving.  

I liked this lady immediately.  I can't put a finger on it and it's one of those intuition things that I don't like to listen to....but, I liked this lady immediately and Lucy liked this lady as soon as she entered the room and the whole thing just felt right.  How can you not love when there is lots of love and affection and laughing and tail wagging and squirming and jumping going on?
Dr. K9 was playful and efficient.  All work with lots of love.  Check, check, check of the vertebrae.  Kiss, kiss, kiss, work, work, work.  She asked me to hold Lucy so she could complete the next part of the exam......
....when she got to the "problem," it couldn't have been clearer.  Talk about obvious. If Lucy were a cartoon, her eyes would've bugged right out of her head, her tail would've shot straight up and her being would've made a loud, surprised WHOOOOOP! sound.  I'm telling you what, it was hilarious!  So dang obvious.  I'm not kidding about how she looked: eyes bugged, tail up, WHOOOP sound.  Bingo!
Surprisingly to me, Dr. Cracker didn't seem to think it was Lucy's back. (Thank you, baby jesus!) She gave Lucy a squeeze near the back again (WHOOOOP!) and pointed......to.....
wait for it, wait for it.....
.....the dog's pelvis/pelvic area muscles.  
Of COURSE it was her pelvis area.  Why wouldn't it be? Our dogs seem to share our miseries.  In this case, it was rather like Lucy was sharing my pelvic mesentery mysteries, just like Freckles getting so sick when the wife was a sad sack of pain and angst one year ago. Stop it, already!
As for theories, Dr. K9 Cracker surmised that Lucy must've done the splits (like the Chinese splits) and pulled/ripped/hurt/stretched/strained/whatever the pelvic/hip area muscles, probably slamming onto her "sits bones" as she finished her splits. Yeow! It would be pretty painful and would take time to completely heal.  Think about when you pull a muscle--it sucks.  Think about when you bruise a bone--sucks worse.  Think about when you do both at the same time, on both sides of your body.  Pass me the pain meds!  Dr. K9 reminded me that dogs tend to heal a lot faster than humans.  The doctor did a few adjustments (yup, just like they do with humans) and said Lucy didn't have to return unless the symptoms returned or other symptoms surfaced.
Wait, did she just say we don't have to come back?  Is this not the greatest thing since sliced bread? I couldn't believe it.
Can I just say thank you to all the dog loving friends who have used a dog chiropractor.? We can't thank you enough!
In case you are wondering if going to a dog chiropractor is expensive, it is not.  For me to say that, you know it has to be reasonable.  I swear I spend more money on their food for the week than I did for the appointment.  I suppose I might feel otherwise if we had to have adjustments three times a week but I found it very reasonable for the visit.

Lucy seems to be well on the road to recovery.  I am slowly weaning her off the various meds I've been pumping in her, as she seems in need of nothing further besides a a little rest and relaxation.....
.....This means that Lucy will NOT be allowed to dance on tables while Madonna is performing her half time show.  I may let her do a little sassy dance when Madge's video debuts tonight, but that's it.

As for me, I will be dancing on the table.  My pelvis is just fine.  Sassy dance, indeed!