Verklempt

It all started with a random comment over at Tiff's place yesterday. The gist? My lawnmower is broken, and I am apparently attempting to create a copperhead/water moccasin refuge in my back yard.

Well. Less than 24 hours later, the residents of the Tiny House arrived at my house. With lawnmowers. Both Tiff and Biff are currently in my back yard (no small feat) mowing away. My utter joy and thanks for this act nearly has me speechless. Nearly.

Things 1 and 2 are in the living room, playing Wii golf with Nooze. She adores both of them, and is quite thankful for the company. This isan AWESOME Sunday, y'all!

Chachi is currently boiling bratwurst, preparing them for the grill. We also have chips, cola, random salads, fresh tomatoes...and a lot of ice. We simply can not have them leave without being fed.

Thank you, both. This is an act of kindness beyond measure.

Minutia

I was released from Physical Therapy today, twenty plus pounds lighter - and with the ability to exercise.

To celebrate, the BT finished my session with a discussion on whether or not it was "morally and legally correct" for China to gift all Olympians with what equated to a thousand condoms each. I took the Mom Road and expressed concern about "getting random Strange in a foreign country".

The BT's response? "Dude. I am gonna MISS you!"

My parting gift? The receipt of rude comments written on my back...in heated gel.

My Thursday afternoons have now gotten much longer...and sadder.

I hope that the promise to call and leave rude messages in my voice mail actually sticks. I'm going to need some cheering up now.

Finally Done...

Yesterday was Day Four of my End of Summer Vacation. It was also the first day of school. Since Nooze fancies herself a Momma's Girl (sometimes), I have started the tradition of Taking Her to School (and picking her up) on the first day. This is a rare treat for both of us.

So, promptly at 7:54 am, we left La Casa en route for EOTGW Elementary. In a rare phase of Public Parental Acceptance, Nooze decided that I could walk her to her class. The fact that her backpack weighed roughly 436 pounds may have had something to do with it...

I was back in the Magic Mom van less than ten minutes later, headed back to La Casa. And quiet. And utter, utter boredom.

It should be noted that, while I sometimes crave solitude, I do not generally deal well when it finally occurs. It is acceptable, I believe, once or twice every six months. For full days. The rest of the time, unless I am sick, I can handle being alone at home for maybe an hour or three. That's pretty much it.

So, upon returning home, I decided that I would finish mowing the lawn to surprise Chachi. After approximately twenty attempts on the pull cord, I opened the gas container to find...no gas whatsoever. Oh, well. It looked and felt like rain anyway.

I returned inside and attempted to read blogs. Since I generally work during the day (and blog/read at night), I learned that most blogs are not generally updated by 8.45 am. Ah, well. What to do?

I finally threw in a load of laundry, did the dishes, vacuumed, dusted. House now acceptably clean, I again faced boredom. Desperate to avoid daytime tv, I made the Ultimate Bonehead Move that Moms Make when Desperate.

I decided to clean Nooze's room.

I promised myself that I wouldn't go overboard, and allotted exactly fifteen minutes to the job.

Nearly two hours later, I had to force myself to stop.

I returned to blog reading. I read the two had updated, and was ready to do something else.

Finally fully desperate, I packed the car with eight bags of items to donate to the local shelter. I dropped them off, picked up my tax write off. I discovered a bakery in town and bought a homemade chocolate powdered donut.

I went to the local library, which was actually open! [This is rare. I have lived in this town for eight years; I have seen the "OPEN" sign on the door maybe a handful of times.] After browsing for 30 minutes or so, I checked out three books.

Then I went home, and Chachi pulled in to the driveway. Four hours earlier than usual. After reassuring me that he was the 'Extra Guy' at work today, we set out to Finish More Stuff before school got out.

We went through old VHS tapes, packed up old books, and threw large trash into the back of the truck. We made additional trips to the library (book donations) and the local shelter (VHS and miscellaneous "stuff" donations) - then we went to the dump.

After picking Nooze up at school, we completed homework, organizing, and even put an old desk and newly-empty bookshelf into Nooze's room.

The last thing on my list is to find Something to Do with a set of Encyclopedias from the 1950s. Throwing them out Just Seems Wrong. Ideas, anyone?

Thankfully, I return to work today. I don't know how much more "Organization" that I can stand around here.

First Day...In the Second Grade

It happens without fail. Every year, about a week or so before school starts, Billy Joe McGuffrey begins running through my head.





The fact that Nooze is a Really Clumsy Kid doesn't really help...

Times, They are a' Changin'

Snapshot:

Rennratt, Northern Maine, circa 1979: Towhead blond, pudgy. Likely rolling in the dirt and watching Bruce Lee movies with the equally towheaded and pudgy boy from across the street.

Dream Job: Truck driver.

Dream look: Didn't care.


Fast forward...

Nooze, Eastern North Carolina, Today: Sandy blond hair, 4'3", slim. Likely wearing fake nails, slip on sandals with heels...and clothes that sparkle.

Dream Job: Masseuse and Veterinarian. [Yes. She wants to be both.]

Dream Look: Mass tattoos. Initial tattoo to be a Pegasus, flying upward. Through flames.

Note to self: Stop watching LA Ink with your daughter...

Uh, Hello?

Someone in Hawaii is reading this blog. Regularly.

Someone in the Navy.

So, hello there, Sailor. Who be ye?

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Someone in The Pentagon reads this thing, too.

Creepy.

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Also, YOU, there. Over in France?

You won't be finding any pictures of that on this here blog.

I promise. I happen to write this thing.

And I really can't imagine that I ever even wrote about it.


Much love,

Rennratt

New Medication, More Bizzare Cautions

Due to a most excellent decline in my weight recently, it was assessed that the NSAID prescribed was likely too strong. [In short, it knocked me unconscious every time I took it.] As a result, Dr. Yup-Yup gave me not one, but two prescriptions for new medication.

The primary prescription [Lodine 400XL] is simply a lower dose of my previous medication. Since I initially responded well to Lodine 500XL, Dr. Yup-Yup wanted to give a lower dose a chance. In the off chance that any form of Lodine may now respond negatively [Chart One for Dreamland, STAT!], he gave a second prescription for a medication known as Relafen. From what I understand, Lodine is to Relafen as Naproxen is to Advil. Same general purpose, just a different recipe overall.

Being a careful, dutiful physician, Dr. Yup-Yup wrote "HOLD" at the top right of the Relafen prescription. This was, he explained, to notify the pharmacy that this was a 'just in case' medication. They should only fill it, he said, if the Lodine 400XL had the same effect on me as the higher dose. I related this information to the 12 year old behind the counter this morning, and, through heavily glammed-up eyes [left over from a frat house Rave, perhaps?], she blinked understanding and nodded in agreement.

I was not at all surprised to find not one, but TWO large prescription bottles in the pharmacy bag this evening. And, since I am old and lazy and like to complain? The NSAIDs for my Arthritis are still in child proof caps. [And NO, I haven't signed the waiver for old people lids yet. Like the pharmacy could read what I wrote, anyway.]

Despite my reputation for a contrary nature, I make sure to read the warning inserts for all of my medications. While they tend to scare the overall crap out of me, I am also darkly amused by the many 'potential side effects' that are noted.

My favorite scary warning within the Lodine 400XL list: This medicine may increase your risk for certain serious heart and blood vessel problems (such as heart attack and stroke). Well, at least my joints won't hurt as my brain explodes. Thanks.

My favorite bizarre warning within the Lodine 400XL list: Do not drive, operate machinery, or do anything else that could be dangerous. Do you think this means in general or while taking this medication?

My favorite scary warning within the Relafen insert: If you experience shortness of breath, dizziness, crushing chest pains or breathing difficulties while taking this medicine, call your doctor immediately. Do not take any more medicine unless your doctor tells you to do so. If I had crushing chest pains, dizziness and shortness of breath, I'm pretty sure swallowing more crap that made me feel bad would be out of the question.

My favorite bizarre warning within the Relafen insert: Avoid exposure to sunlamps and the sun until you know how this medication will affect you. Affect me where? Inside the cave I'm apparently moving to?

Apparently, both Lodine 400XL and Relafen may cause my eyelids to swell, my kidneys to fail, and my liver to burst into flames.

And, as always, I have been sternly warned to watch out for what appears to be my stomach rendering itself into swiss cheese.

Both medicine bottles came with the standard Stoner Sticker, and reminders that I should probably eat prior to taking the Pills of Bursting Organs.

Ironically, the dosage for both medications reads May take one to two pills twice daily, as needed for pain.

Sometimes, I really wish that St. Joseph's Aspirin was still the Magic Cure...

A Pocket Full of Random...

I spent my morning in the office warehouse bay, throwing large stacks of old paperwork directly in to the dumpster. It was extremely cathartic.

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I was then TREATED to lunch by a good friend. We spent a little over an hour at an excellent Mediterranean joint not far from my office...

I had my Standby: Grilled Portobello wrap with Balsamic Vinegar! Mmmm...I'm hungry all over again, just thinking about it.

Turning a year older is wicked sweet.

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I spent my afternoon reviewing and deciphering paperwork for an upcoming installation. Any portion of my Soul not destroyed by the Headache of '08 may have been sacrificed.

Why?

Because said paperwork was sixteen pages long. Thankfully, EIGHT of the pages were typed by Spazz, my beloved assistant.

Sadly, the other eight pages were hand written. By Schlep the Salesman. In a pen that was trying to die, yet seemingly unable to do so.

Said paperwork was then highlighted within an inch of its life...in random shades of blue, pink, yellow and green...noting what material went where in the Gargantuan House.

Also? Schlep the Salesman's handwriting can only be described as "Crackhead with the Shakes".

That was two hours of my life that I will NEVER get back.

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I then headed to Physical Therapy, where my progress was cheered and high-fived (figuratively).

I then endured one of the most painful sessions yet. Said session involved the grinding of a muscle (QL? Minimus?) that was desperately trying to slip in between my hip socket and the thigh bone that goes into it. AGAIN.

I gritted my teeth and muttered, "Dude. Don't take this personally...BUT YOU REALLY SUCK!"

BT took this all in stride and answered mildly, 'Yep. I've heard that one before. Just don't kick me, okay?'

Then he proceeded to change the subject by asking "What's the most horrifying movie you have ever seen?"

This gave me pause, as I have seen many movies that have horrified me for one reason or another.

He waited until I said "Hmmm..." and continued.

"I had this discussion with (co-worker) earlier. I voted for I Spit on Your Grave*, and (co-worker) was convinced I made the movie up!"

I chimed in "Yeah, that was a pretty nasty movie."

He then asked for my vote in the grossest death category [Definitely the guy disemboweled by the outboard motor boat. BT chose the Bathtub Guy.]

This discussion was followed by his triumphant comment: "I knew, that if ANYONE had seen it, it'd have to be you!"

I wasn't really sure how to take that.

*In my defense, I was in my 20s, in college, and likely well in to a bottle of Cuervo 1800 when I watched it.
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I am taking a small step back in the Stern, Professional Boss category.

For one day.

Tomorrow, Destrukto will close for lunch for what is being hailed as "Peace, Love, and Pot Luck".

We are bringing comfort foods, turning off our phones, and hanging out for an hour.

If Spazz has her way, we will spend the entire time listening to Enya. And probably chanting.

No worries.

Boss 1 and Big Boss are springing for the paper goods. They have ALSO signed off on the purchase of Butcher Paper and crayons...and maybe even stickers. [Thanks to my pal R. and the BT for these excellent ideas!]

They are giving me the company credit card to buy this stuff.

I would LOVE to see the look on the Comptroller's face when she reads the charge list!
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Oh, and that headache? Still here, but to a lesser degree. I think my body's simply gearing up for my Fall Voice...

Meh

I am on Day Five of Being the Stern, Professional Boss.

To say that I despise this role with a fiery passion would be an understatement.

On a related note, I am also on Day Five of the Headache that Killed my Soul.

Perhaps tomorrow will be the day it breaks...

...Yeah. That's about what I thought.

Proof Positive

The following is an excerpt of Today's Conversation with my Physical Therapist (also known as the Butt Toucher):

BT: [describing a video sent to him via email] I couldn't help but wonder WHY my friend thought that I would WANT to see that!

RR: 'Cuz you're a pervert?

BT: [laughing] Well, maybe. But, DUDE! I sat there in shock, thinking "Oh, great. This video probably has a virus!"

RR: Dude. That's no virus. It's a freaking STD!

BT: I should totally call him and yell, "WTF, man? My computer has herpes!"


In answer to the obvious, YES. We really do call each other Dude.

I also call him Butt Toucher! to his face.

O-B-S-E-S-S-E-D

...Or addicted. Take your pick.

Thanks to a recent mention on the Bob and Sheri Show (www.bobandsheri.com), I have been reintroduced to "Cracked".

Unlike 'back in the day', however, I no longer have to sneak to the local drugstore to pick up a copy of this magazine. Nope! I can skulk right here on the Internet.

...and you can, too.

Simply click on www.cracked.com - and enjoy! Warped minds only need apply.

You're welcome.

A Few Answers

Comments and questions in response to my last post had a common theme. The gist seemed to be as follows:

-Did you MEAN to lose weight?

-Are you okay?

-How are you doing it?

-But you looked FINE!

First of all, thank you ALL. You are very sweet.

The truth is, according to the AMA, Calipers and probably the rest of the Free World, my start weight had me firmly planted in the category of OBESE. I'm not lying. As I am currently catapulting myself headfirst toward forty, I decided that it was time for things to change.

It all began back in January, when I met with Dr. Yup-Yup. I noted my disgust with my overall health, weight, and exhaustion. I noted how sick I was of fad diets and random promises that I could melt away the fat at the blink of an eye. I explained my desire to just be healthy for once.

He immediately referred me to a Physical Therapist, and I will forever be thankful. It has, without a doubt, changed my life. For the better, I might add.

I have, since birth, been the Fat Kid. While I may not have rolled to the bus stop, I always struggled with being Bigger than everyone else. Weight wise, anyway.

I was a solid 120 at the age of 12.

The scale has been tipping more to the right ever since then. It was Time for Things to Change. I accepted that the Road Ahead would be hard. I noted that I would falter in my steps. Then I told two of my co-workers.

They serve as my in-office inspiration, encouragement and psychiatrists. I return the favor to both of them. So far, so good.

So yes, I meant to lose the weight. I am using a combination of Weight Watchers and exercise. It's a slow process, but it is worth it.

I have lost 22.5 pounds since March, when this all began. Medical situation notwithstanding, I feel better now than I have for years. It has been worth every minute.

According to the AMA/whatever, I have anywhere from 25-50 pounds left to lose. I am personally okay with 15-20 pounds. I am finally open to the idea that, ideally, not everyone is meant to weigh 125 pounds.

The biggest part of the struggle? Wearing clothes that now fit me. I see the numbers on the scale tipping to the left, but *I* don't really see it in the mirror. That will be the longest battle, I think.

Well worth it in the end, though. That is a fact.