I’m so long winded when I get nervous

October 19, 2005

Brace yourself, I have some news about myself that will shock you.

I am highly neurotic.

I know what you’re thinking: "Oh, Lisa, don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re always so calm, so level-headed, always reasonable, and never freakout-able."

Oh, cut the crap. You and I both know (and you’ll only admit it because I can’t reach you to punch you) that I’m a complete and total spaz (that term is so politically incorrect I almost winced). It’s not exactly a state secret that I worry and fret over things like greenhouse gas and what the price of tea in China really happens to be.

I can commonly be found obsessing over things like: Is that cloud in the shape of an elephant or does it more closely resemble Hillary Clinton french-kissing a wombat while reading a copy of Ulysses? And if I choose elephant, what does it "mean"?

Or sometimes I can’t decide whether to choose peas or carrots for dinner because, you know, one is higher in riboflavin than the other and perhaps I should stop on the way home from school and have the kids get a quick blood test to see what their levels are…

Get the idea? Oh, don’t pretend you’re surprised. This is something you knew about me when we met. So know that and knowing that I live in the Tampa area…


Would you like to know?

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Currently the devil on the left shoulder is winning

October 18, 2005

I received an email from Typepad today (my blogging platform) that read:

is good.

Put a TipJar
on your blog.

At first I thought this was the most repulsive thing I’d seen them do yet (and you longtime readers will know what a :::choke::: "fan" I am of Typepad’s ideas). I was about to delete the email until I saw the last line:

If ads aren’t your thing,
then let your readers say "thanks" by giving you a tip.  Add a Pay-Pal
powered donation button
to your blog
and use the
funds to
pay for your TypePad subscription, or for that new iPod Nano you’ve
been coveting.

Now I guess I have to thank Mena for learning of my heartache and creating an entire software plug-in just for me.

Don’t worry, folks. I won’t actually put a tip jar on my blog. Or will I?

That’s what friends are for

October 16, 2005

Someone, and I’m not naming names, needs to learn about what true friendship means. My best friend reads this site regularly and if she has been diagnosed with a brain wasting disease that causes her to forget things, she certainly ought to let me know. Even my most casual readers won’t have to think that far back to remember this post. So riddle me this, Batman: how do you explain the email I got from her this morning that said:

Guess what I just got for my birthday???
A Zen Nano Plus!!! OMG..

The poor misguided girl actually expects me to be happy for her but I’m too busy plotting my revenge. I hope she gets fleas.



October 15, 2005

You know that old expression, "I cursed my fate because I had no shoes and then I met a man who had no feet"? That quite literally happened to me yesterday.

For about two months, I’ve peripherally known a man who is confined to a wheelchair following an accident 18 months ago. I have heard many wonderful stories about this man, about his positive attitude, and about his terrific outlook on life despite the fact that he was paralyzed from the chest down at 37 years old. It’s not that I didn’t believe the stories I heard about him, I just wondered if he was perhaps being put on a pedestal by friends who’d been deeply shaken to see him like this. I had the good fortune to spend several hours with this man yesterday and, as it turns out, the vibe on him was spot on.

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I swear this is not how it looks

October 13, 2005

Since there’s no school tomorrow, the kids will be spending the next couple of days with their grandparents. In anticipation of a lovely (and uninterrupted!) evening with J, I stopped at the grocery store after dropping off the boys. It was a quick trip because I only needed three things. For the life of me I couldn’t figure out why the teenage cashier was blushing and the bagger was trying not to laugh.

On the way home I did a quick mental rundown of what I’d bought in case I’d forgotten anything:

  • Wine
  • Steak
  • Cool Whip

Oh. Now I see.

The Cool Whip is for the strawberry smoothies I like to make. Honest. You pervs.

I came, they sawed, nothing conquered

October 13, 2005

After two months of having my right hand in a cast and getting very inventive while trying to live a normal life, I went to the doctor yesterday to see how things were progressing. First of all, I love that saw thing they use to get the cast off. I’ve seen hundreds of casts removed in my lifetime, had three taken off of my own limbs over the years and yet I’m still convinced the blade will work loose and sever an artery faster than you can say "oops." After the requisite jokes from the tech ("I haven’t cut anyone’s fingers off…this week!") and my polite chuckle ("Hee, hee…good one!"…Doofus, now get this goddamn thing off me), he removed the cast. We all waited breathlessly (have you ever smelled a four week old cast?) for the x-ray results because they knew I’d have a mental breakdown if they had to re-cast it for a third time. I saw the tech carefully hiding all the sharp objects in the room while we waited.

The good news: no more cast.

The bad news: no more movement in my wrist and thumb.

It seems that some sort of arthritis has chosen right now to flare up and harass my immobilized joints so everything has pretty much frozen in place. The doctor says that if we leave the hand out of the cast I should regain full movement in my thumb and wrist with physical therapy. The broken bone hasn’t quite healed however so I’m in a hard immobilizer that I can only remove to do my hand exercises or bathe (or do hand exercises while bathing?). Well, crap, huh?

Actually, it’s no big deal. At least I can reach my itches when I have to scratch. I can wash my hair with two hands. It won’t smell. So far, my biggest issue has been that I forget my wrist is no longer encased the way it used to be. The new splint is made of metal, nylon and Velcro so it has a bit more give to it than the hard cast I’ve gotten used to. Now I have to remember not to use my wrist as a hotpad when taking things out of the microwave and that clunking my arm down the table with reckless abandon will result in extreme pain. I learned that last one the hard way.

Want some pizza? I’ve got a little extra

October 13, 2005

This post won’t make much sense unless you read the one below it so if you need to catch up go ahead, I’ll wait.

So, I fire off this letter to the corporate office of the pizza place and sit down to eat with the kids. About ten minutes later, a delivery man shows up with piping hot pizzas that obviously just been made. I (nicely) asked the driver if he knew what had taken so long and he apologized profusely, saying that my order had never made the original lineup and by the time it finally did, someone else had taken my hot wings so there had been a further delay to wait for those. We had a nice chat in which I explained that I completely understood that the restaurant had dropped the ball, not him, so I was not angry with him.

I noticed a cell phone on his belt so I asked if it was on. He looked at me like I’d asked him to father my children and then said it was, in fact, turned on. I said, "Oh, that’s odd. When I called and spoke to the restaurant they told me you weren’t answering your cell phone and had simply disappeared for the last two hours." The driver was nearly apoplectic. Interestingly (in between expletives), he also asked me if the person I’d spoken with was named Caitlyn. I told him it was. How about that? It seems Caitlyn isn’t very well liked by many people. Imagine that. He refused to allow me to sign the debit card slip (not realizing it had already been reimbursed anyway) but did let me tip him generously for his time.

If you think this story ends there, you’d be wrong.

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