Sharp Corners

I woke up sick and I won’t be happy unless you’re all feeling very sorry for me. I’m a huge baby when I don’t feel good, I just want to lie around on the couch to be waited on hand and foot while covered in blankets and heating pads. I don’t want to have to make breakfast for the boys or drive them to school. I don’t want to do the dishes or laundry. But time marches on and the dog needs to be walked.

I went to the pharmacy to stock up on things that will drug me into an uncaring stupor but quickly realized that all the good stuff costs a zillion dollars so I left with Chloraseptic for my sore throat, Tylenol for my body aches, Vitamin C for my immune system and Cheese-Nips for my psyche. I haven’t used Chloraseptic in a long time and I forgot how god-awful it is. You know the stuff? It’s a bottle of green liquid that you spray into your mouth to numb the back of the throat. I got a little overzealous the first time I used it today and numbed my tongue as well. I tried to make a call afterwards but drooled on my cell phone so much that I had to disconnect. The second time, I sprayed half of it in my eye and the other half on my face so now I look a bit like a stroke patient.

Speaking of drugs, Son One started his ADHD medication this weekend. For the uninitiated (short version) he was just diagnosed a couple weeks ago. Much as I dislike having to do it, after much research I have decided to try medication. You readers have been so kind in your comments and emails to me. I wish I had the time to answer each one personally but please know that your well wishes meant the world to me as I made this decision. (To the couple of people who harangued me about putting my son "on speed instead of dealing just disciplining him", etc: if you wish to have intelligent discourse on this topic, do not hide behind fake email addresses and I will gladly offer you my reasons for the choice I made, despite the fact that I am under no obligation to do so.)

So far, so good. Son One didn’t grow a third eye in the middle of his forehead or start speaking in tongues. I didn’t have a nervous breakdown or suffer from guilt related stress. It’s too soon to tell if this medication will do what we hope but things look encouraging.

I’d love to stay and chat more but I have to go numb up my uvula.

(Jay, I’ll give you one. You’re on your own for "uvula")

My, my. I ought to be grounded. That last entry of mine was so full of profanity I should have my fingers washed off with soap. Next time I post late at night, exhausted, headachy and full of wine I think I’ll call a friend instead. Friends don’t let friends blog drunk.

Well, actually, I wasn’t drunk but I suppose I’d had just enough Merlot to let my hair down a little too much. Why Merlot and not Chablis? I thought you’d never ask.

Many years ago I went to dinner with my (then) husband. It was a lovely restaurant, very romantic, terrific food. I had a glass of Chablis before our meal and another one with our meal. After dessert we decided to go to their bar for a last glass of wine before we went home. Before we could gather our things and walk across the room, the manager started ordering a young busboy around, commanding him to "get that table cleared off NOW!" and "hurry up and refill the water glasses over THERE!" All evening, the busboy had been working diligently, attentive to all the tables in his station. I couldn’t understand why the manager was being so hard on him.

Once we were settled at the bar, my new glass of Chablis sweating in front of me, I watched this poor kid frantically trying to wash bar glasses, fold cloth napkins and empty ashtrays while this woman continued to bark orders at him. He never once showed any dismay at being spoken to in this manner, he just plodded along. Nice girl that I am, I struck up a conversation with him and told him I thought he was doing a fine job. He thanked me graciously. I told him that his job looked tough and he was doing well keeping up with everybody’s needs. He thanked me again. Then I said, "You just keep up the good work. That manager of yours obviously doesn’t know a good employee when she sees one. You’re working your tail off and all she can do is screech like a banshee. Don’t let her get to you. I think she’s a total bitch, personally."

The busboy looked at me for a moment and then said, "That’s my mother."

Oh.

I’ve never touched Chablis since.

So, I’m sitting in a coffee shop, enjoying my latte, and who should stroll in but Dave and his lovely wife Sherry. They’re stalking me.

Help.

Okay, that’s not true. It turns out Dave and his wife came down to Florida to visit his mom and carved out a few minutes to visit with me. YAY! So, here we are, trading stories and guzzling coffee. Are you insanely jealous?

Wanna see what I see? Here they are!

I vented my spleen over at DotMoms.

…over at Tall Poppy Diaries. They organized a grand gala for the BoB Awards finalists so please head over there to get the skinny on the event. I took J and Rocco with me and a good time was had by all.