Thursday, November 19, 2015

No Toilet? No Worries.

I saw a commercial today for a prescription medication that treats the symptoms of irritable bowel syndrome. Among those symptoms - URGENT DIARRHEA. 

Which begs the following question. Is there anything such as non-urgent diarrhea? 

"Hey don't worry about me. I've got knee buckling stomach pain and burning flatulence from that street taco I just ate. But it's no problem because I have non-ugrent diarrhea. It can wait."

Non-urgent diarrhea is the distant cousin painless gum grafting. Not that I would know.  I've had neither. 




Sunday, November 8, 2015

Feeling Blue In Massachusetts


Meanwhile back in western Massachusetts....

I believe this rubber object is supposed to represent male genitalia. I say this with some uncertainty for a couple of reasons. 

  • I'm pretty sure they are not usually blue unless they are on the verge of exploding. This set did not explode the whole time I was watching them.
  • This thing looks dirty and stretched out, like it has been around the block and broken a few times. 
  • It moved freely, swinging from left to right and back again, almost like it had a mind of its own.
  • It was attached to something even more unattractive than itself.
Wait a minute, I think I just answered my own question. 

Sunday, November 1, 2015

Adventures in Gum Grafting Day 4

I skipped my Day 3 update. I was just too whiney. My mouth felt like the Chicopee Landfill.

In case you are interested or are considering having this procedure, here is my status for today:


  • Still feeling pretty tired on day 4 post procedure. I'm not sure if this is due to the pain meds or just a normal part of the healing process
  • Although it's ok at this point to chew soft foods on my good side, I continue to stick with foods that I can just swallow down like yogurt, protein shakes, and baby food. Chewing scares me.
  • I wake up to find that there is still some bleeding during the night. Now that Halloween has come and gone that shit can stop. Vampire season is over.
  • I haven't washed my hair since the day of the procedure. I have an irrational fear that scrubbing my head will somehow loosen the stitches in my mouth.
  • I may actually get out of the house today! 
Thanks for reading. I hope everyone has a wonderful rest of the day!





Friday, October 30, 2015

Adventures in Gum Grafting Day 2


You know what is quite tasty? Baby food. It would be even better  if it was available in birthday cake, sharp cheddar, or pancake flavors.

I had my gum graft surgery yesterday morning and although I felt a little uncomfortable when I first got up, I'm still managing comfortably with the 600mg of ibuprofen.

I'm hungry and a bit terrified to open my mouth wide enough to chew with my good side. I've been sticking with protein shakes and baby food. I'm playing it safe. Rest assured however, when my mouth is completely healed I will be eating a large tuna sub with a bag of chips and chasing it all down with a pound of peanut M&Ms.


Thursday, October 29, 2015

Adventure In Gum Grafting Day 1


Here's what your shopping cart may look like if you ever undergo a gingival graft procedure. I had mine just about 8 hours ago. It was a connective-tissue graft, the process in which they cut a flap in the roof of our mouth, harvest tissue from under the flap, stitch the flap shut, and then stitch the harvested tissue to the area of the gum that has receded. Fun!

The 7 shots of novocaine seemed to have worked as the procedure itself was not very painful. I was sent home with prescription strength Motrin , antibiotics, and Vicodin. As you can probably guess by my ability to type this post, I have not taken anything but the Motrin and the antibiotic.


I've been told the pain and discomfort gets worse at night. I may bring out the big guns at that point so I can get some sleep. And since I'm not suppose to lay on the side of my face, the recliner in the living room is going to be my bed, at least for tonight.


Part 2 to follow! 


Tuesday, October 27, 2015

Pumpkin Spice and Personal Hygiene

I may have been exaggerating slightly when I told my one of my besties that there was such a thing as pumpkin spice tampons. I laughed so hard at her response however, that I had to change my pumpkin spice panty liner.




Sunday, July 26, 2015

Alcohol + FB = Trouble

So I may have had a few drinks and the casino in Connecticut last week and I may have posted something on Facebook that mentioned people that direct the smoke from their cigarette or cigar directly into your face are dicks. I also commented on a news article about requiring student driver vehicles to be clearly marked as such. My well thought out comment? "Stupid Idea."

FBI, also known as Facebooking While Intoxicated, is a very dangerous thing. How many times have you woken up, frantically searched for your phone, and signed into your account only to find your status reads "My ex's new girlfriend is a total bitch", "I want to hump my next door neighbor behind the shed",  "I'm quitting sniffing glue right after the weekend", or "Look at my great new kitten tattoo!"

Please people, let's be there for one another when friends are in the midst of committing an FBI. A quick text, a message on FB, or a phone call can save your friend hours or perhaps days and months of embarrassment. Let's hope anyone that reads this blog will not have to endure the repercussions of an FBI. But if you do, I promise to only laugh a little before pretending I have no idea who you are.










Saturday, July 25, 2015

The Drink Is Always Greener….

I think I have figured out how to create my own green drinks instead of buying expensive powders.

Get some broccoli from the grocery store. When you get home,  run some cold water over it. Before it dries, take it outside and rub it in the dirt. Now grab a couple of fistfuls of grass and maybe a dandelion or two and a tall weed. Come back in the house and open a beer.

Place the dirt covered broccoli, grass, weed and dandelions in a blender. Throw in one blueberry for flavor. Add 8 ounces room temp water and mix that bad boy up. Pour the contents of the blender into a juice glass and the contents of the beer into a pint glass. Drink the beer.

Easy peasy! I said I could make them. I didn't say I would drink it.



When Good Thoughts Go Bad

A very good friend of the family passed away last Saturday. His name was Richard but everyone called him Dick. He lived a long and interesting life, was generous and thoughtful, and will be missed by many.

After he was cremated,  I pondered how someone could be here one minute and gone the next. And then this thought popped into my head - "All we are left with is Dick in a box".

Wrong on a few levels, especially if you have seen this:

http://www.nbc.com/saturday-night-live/video/snl-digital-short-d-in-a-box/n12100


Friday, July 24, 2015

Ignore The Off Taste

Dont' you just love a good text exchange between married folk?

The following text messages were sent between my niece and her husband.


Breakfast Arsenic Blend. Now available in A-Kups at your favorite retailer. Apparently I'm not the only one in the family with the off sense of humor :)



Tuesday, July 14, 2015

Eyes On Your Own Meter!

Spinning is a great workout. Get the heart rate up and burn a ton of calories while listening to a rocking playlist. For those of you not familiar with spinning, you gauge your progress and set goals by trying to maintain your RPMs within a certain range while setting the tension at a challenging level.

Challenging is a relative term. Some nights I can handle the tension on 8 and some nights I am panting at 3. Either way, I am still a wimp. One thing I don't do however, is check out what tension my neighbor is using. I liken it to standing at a urinal in a men's room and gazing over at the guy to the immediate left or right. You may be curious, but some things are better left to the imagination. An easy way to remember this bit of etiquette is the following phrase: Just like an adjacent peter, don't you dare look at your neighbor's meter.

Not that I have ever been in a men's bathroom. Except maybe that one time at Faneuil Hall Marketplace in Boston when I had been over-served at the now defunct Lord Bunbury's Pub. I knew the error of my  ways immediately however and walked right out of that toilet area with a "I meant to do that, just looking for my pretend boyfriend" attitude.

In conclusion, because I am really effing tired and have to be up in less than 6 hours, if you are looking for a quick way to get in shape you may want to check out your local spin studio. You will have fun and you'll get to go commando in those cute padded bike shorts. Ohhh baby.

Nighty night.


Sunday, July 12, 2015

Sober As A Judge

Sober Sunday today. Not as much fun as Saucy Saturday but since tomorrow is Masshole Monday, it's best to behave, go to bed early, and wake with a clear head.  Masshole Monday is the day when all the commuters forget how to drive after the weekend. It's also the day that everyone somehow telepathically agrees to get to the exit 12 on ramp in Framingham, Mass at exactly the same time, thereby clogging up the Mass Pike and making my 68 mile commute even more hellacious.

I am doing flex hours for the summer which requires me to get up at 4:00am and leave the house by 5:15am. I'll feel like crap all week but I'll get Freebie Flex Fridays off for most of the summer dammit! Wicked Pissah! (That's Boston for very good). 

Hope everyone had a Whimsical Weekend!

Saturday, July 11, 2015

Stop Harping On Me

It's been a little over 2 months since my mother Irene passed away. I've been reading books about orphaned adults, the death of one's mother, and Kitchen Confidential. Hey, I need some diversions.

Irene had been on hospice care for about 6 months. On the day her passing seemed imminent, the nursing home rolled a cart into Irene's room for my sister and me with enough coffee, tea, juice, water, muffins, snacks, fruit, and cookies to feed a small army. Or, as I like to call a small army, me. Hospice brought us a booklet called When Death Is Near. To be honest, we enjoyed the cart much better.

After their morning visit,the hospice nurses told us that things were progressing along. They asked me if I wanted a harp. I was surprised because I didn't think you could serve beer in a nursing home. Then light dawned over my Marblehead and I realized they were talking about an actual harp, the instrument.  How strange I thought. Yes, this day is not quite sad enough. Please bring in a harp, a chorus of war orphaned children in wheelchairs, and several homeless pets set to be euthanized in 24 hours. That's the ticket.

I declined the offer. I don't think Irene would have liked the harp. However, I know she loved the Elvis hymns we played at her visitation and funeral.

I've seen butterflies twice since Irene's passing. One landed on my hip when I was visiting my parent's grave sites. I've read that our loved ones, once passed, can channel their energy into small creatures like butterflies and birds in order to pay us a visit. I believe it. And I'm enjoying the company.

**Please note: The hospice team at my mother's nursing home was awesome. Truly. Except for the harp ; )

Monday, May 25, 2015

Things To Think About On Your Drive To Work


Thoughts that run through my head during my very long commute to work.

  • I really shouldn't have bought that coffee at the start of my commute.
  • How much pee does a medium size Dunkin' Donuts cup hold and can anyone see me if I crouch down in the back seat? Would I get my pants leg wet?
  • Shit. I forgot to put on deodorant. I think.
  • Why is that asshole driving so fast?
  • Why is that asshole driving so slow?
  • If I throw this fingernail out the window, will people think I 'm littering?
  • Are low fat muffins really low fat? 
  • What can I blow my nose in?
  • Every story on CNN is breaking news.
  • I should have worn thinner socks today.
  • Is it possible to get a sunburn through a car window? 
  • What the hell was that before it got run over by a semi? People in other parts of the country would eat that.
  • Did I just pass a state trooper? Or as we say here, a "Statie". Also known as a "Troopah". 

The Dedication of Martini Cartwheels

My Mother, who was this inspiration for many of the posts on this blog, passed away peacefully on May 7, 2015. She was 90 years old.

Irene had a silly side and I would love to try to make her laugh. I can hear her voice in my head, clear as day, saying what she would often proclaim when I made a funny face or said something inappropriate. "You're a nut Cathy."

For all the inspiration, stories, and smiles you have provided me and those that have read the posts, this blog, in all its silliness, is dedicated to you Irene.


Sunday, April 12, 2015

Tracking Myself

The new fitness tracker I ordered in January finally arrived last week. This model is wicked pissah cool because 1) it's plum/purplely in color and 2) it tracks heart rate.

Heart rate tracking is a necessity. Oh sure, calories burned, flights of stairs climbed, steps taken - all important. But how else do you know you are alive other than your heart rate. You could be wearing your tracker and be pushed down a flight of stairs. You'll get the credit for that flight, but at the end of the day, who cares if you are not conscious and/or alive to brag about it.

Have you ever been in a really long boring meeting at work? And you've said to yourself "Aghh! This meeting is killing me!" ? Well, now you can know for sure. If you are looking at your tracker and see your heart rate starting to fall to say 25 beats per minute or so, you better move your arse out of that chair and get the hell out of the room. Because yes, that meeting is definitely killing you.

The opposite holds true on your morning commute. When you see your heart rate soar to 250, you know it's time to pull off at the nearest rest stop for a Dunkies iced coffee. Decaf would most likely be the best choice in this situation.


Right now I'm calm as a cucumber. Even after running up the stairs to get my phone, I'm in the zone baby. Either that, or my tracker is flirting with me.








Saturday, April 11, 2015

I Recall, Junk Food Does Not

Let's see here. Thinking, thinking….

Do I want the recalled hummus or do I prefer the recalled organic frozen food entree with the spinach? That would depend on how I like my Listeria monocytogenes. Hot or cold?

The food shown on the left is sitting in the pantry right now. It does not need refrigeration and it will last for at least a year. I mean, of course it will be gone within a week or two, but theoretically it could last a long time.  More importantly, it does not contain any rod shaped bacterium that will induce sepsis upon ingestion. It contains sugar which will make me quite happy and high for 20 minutes, followed by an emotional crash and an inch of fat jumping on to my ass. 

The point being, junk food does not get recalled. Plus it was all buy one get one after Easter. We're smart shoppers in this household.



To be clear, I don't eat junk food all the time. I work out and try to live a somewhat healthy lifestyle. I even used to own a juicer. I gave it away though as the wrappers kept clogging up the pulp filter.

Have a happy, healthy Saturday :)


Saturday, January 31, 2015

If You Think It, It Must Be

Have you ever tried using positive psychology on yourself when you are in an uncomfortable situation? For example, when stuck in traffic during the work commute do you ever say either aloud or in your head "I love my job, I love my job" ?

Prior to the snownami we were supposed to have last week we were in BJ's Wholesale Club picking up some extra supplies. You know, important stuff like 100 rolls of toilet paper, 10 packs of deodorant, and 120 ounce bottles of body lotion. Needless to say everyone else in western Massachusetts had the same idea. The store was packed. The checkout lines weaved around the registrars and down the aisles.

There I was trying to convince myself that it wasn't crowded, that the lines would move quickly, and that the urge to strangle people was only temporary. And in my head I heard "I love BJ's, I love BJ's". Positive psychology is a bunch of bullshit isn't it?

Friday, January 2, 2015

Plug This

I have too many cords. There's the cord to charge my personal laptop and the cord to charge my work laptop. There's a cord for my iPhone and one for my iPad. There's a cord for the keyboard that works with the iPad. There's a cord for the e-reader. There's a cord to charge the phone in the car. The cord for my new iPhone does not match the cord for my old iPhone. Same for the iPad. Add two more. You're getting my drift. And right about now you are wishing you could unplug me.

Below is the new and more descriptive definition of "cord":


Cord

/kôrd/

noun

1. A string like object encased in a plastic that houses electrical wires used for charging all your must have devices. Cords are many times unique to the object for which they were designed. Therefore, your typical household will accumulate 7000 to 10,000 cords over the span of five years. Cords have the ability to form complicated twists, turns, and knots with themselves and other cords if placed in a drawer overnight. Cords also have exceptional timing and will hide themselves right before you need them, especially if you are running late to work or an appointment. Cords mock you when you are not looking. They know that without them, you cannot power your FaceBook, Twitter, and Pintrest addictions. They are also aware that you will never dispose of them. Because at some point after they have outlived their usefulness, you will move them to a plastic storage bin where they will live in your attic or cellar for the duration of time. 

Thursday, January 1, 2015

Yes, But Emotionally I'm Only Twelve

Don’t you hate when someone asks you to guess how old she is? In my head I’m thinking “I don’t know. Eighty, eighty-five? You had 7 kids. And it shows.” My filter then engages and I give my best lowball guess.

When someone asks me how old I am and I tell them that I turned fifty a few months back, I usually get a “No way! I would have said you are _____!”. That makes me happy. Except when they fill in the blank with a stupid number like 45. Because if you are going to tell me that I don’t look my age, don’t tell me I look my age minus five years. That’s a back-handed compliment. It’s similar to when you say you like my haircut and then tell me you had the same style - in 1987. Nice, real nice. And stop staring at my argyle sweater.

Please remember that fifty is the new forty, forty is the new thirty, thirty is the new twenty. And if you are ten, you have not actually been born yet so stop whining about everything. You’ll get your chance soon enough.