"The Case of the Missing Tomatoes" - a Tree Guy Narrative

So fourscore and seven years ago (the last time I posted), I mentioned a pregnancy tantrum story that my husband wrote down in Nature Boy's baby book.  Here it go:


The Case of the Missing Tomatoes

By Tree Guy

Early one evening I went to Taco Bell because Danielle wanted a couple Taco Supremes.  These were always her favorite because she loves sour cream.  I came home with three for me and two for her just like she ordered.  I set the bag of tacos on the table and went into the kitchen for drinks.  

Next thing I know, Danielle is yelling about how "These aren't Supremes!!!  Idiots!!!  They can't do anything right!!!!!  I....they...AARGHH!!!!!

And off she ran to the bedroom crying all the way.

Well, there I was, standing in the kitchen with two glasses in my hands wondering what just happened.  I checked the tacos and found that they had just forgotten the tomatoes.  So I added some tomatoes from the fridge and approached the bedroom.  After explaining the situation, Danielle simply said, "OK," and came out and ate her tacos.


So there you have it.  My shining pregnancy moment with Nature Boy.  And he hates tomatoes.

I have no riveting taco picture to add to this post.  (Sorry to disappoint.)  But I do have a crafty Pinterest-y one.

 

My husband likes to make his own salsa.  It's really, really good.  Better than store bought, fo' sho'.  He sometimes whips some up for gifts.  So it happened that we have 5348953408596356 Mason jars just sitting around.  Since I am a lady o' leisure, I spent 534534 hours finding 5456340564064563 things to do with Mason jars on Pinterest.  The painted jar above is my first project.  It reminds Nature Boy of my grandparents, so I call it a win.  Here is the link, in case you like it too.  (EASY!)  I'm going to do a bigger jar next in antique white to hold the flowers that my husband doesn't bring me nearly enough.  (Ahem!)  (Not that he reads my blog...)

I also plan to do this project with silver paint and glitter.  (Glitter!!!!) 

And this one too.

 Craft ALL the jars!!!!!!!!

Hi blogosphere. It's me, Pregzilla.

Happy 2014, y'all!  I'm behind the times, I know.  Haven't got my bloggin' mojo back, and might not ever.  Blame Facebook.  There's actual interaction there!  It's perfect for attention-whoring.

I'm reporting to you today from about mid-pregnancy.  In short, less indigestion, more bitchiness.

Really.

I'm off my mood stabilizer and down to about half the usual dose of my beloved Zoloft.  Most some days I see glimmers of the old unmedicated me.  It's scary.  It makes me think, Maybe I'm not as nice and self-actualized as I like to think I am.  Maybe it's all medication!

The crazy's all real though, I assure you.

The good news is, in a few more months, I'll be back among the fully medicated.  I am totally believing I'll have another round of Postpartum Euphoria.  I had it after having Nature Boy.  It was awesome.  I was walking through Walmart, whistlin' all the while.  Smiling at people in their fuzzy jammie pants.  Not turkey necking anyone.  Just so happy to be a mom.

Which is in sharp contrast to my typical daily interactions right now.

I posted the following story on Facebook, but I think it deserves a spot here as well.

____________________________________________________


I've had a few cranky days. Ain't gonna lie. I had my first pregnancy-induced food tantrum two days ago. Over pizza. Papa John's to be specific.

I couldn't even eat pizza when I was pregnant with Nature Boy (red sauce!!!!) But with this new one, I want the sauciest pizza I can get.

I spent 30 lovely minutes planning my (frugal online coupon supported) order. Mushrooms. Onions. Extra sauce. Garlic dipping sauce.

I downloaded Papa John's app only to get the pop-up that no store delivers to my address. What? So I called the store and asked the squeaky voiced pubescent boy if they deliver out my way. He said yes. So I tried again with the app. (No pizza for YOU!)

The boy lied. Lied, I say!

45 minutes into my meal planning, I called again and was told by a different Papa John's worker that they only deliver to one block east of my house. And that I couldn't get the awesome online deal if I ordered over the phone for pickup.

I was all, "That's only one more block! I've been trying to order from you guys for 45 minutes! That's it!!! I'm not ordering from you!! Bye!!!"

And I hung up on the poor girl.

Because certainly she has power over Papa John's delivery routes and was purposely withholding pizza from me. 

As if that's not bad enough, I then refused to call anywhere else or make any pizza-related decisions for the foreseeable future. I was done!

But I still wanted pizza.

So my husband, who worked all day (his 6th workday in a row) had to take over the rustlin' up of some grub. By then it was almost 7 on a Saturday night and Pizza Hut (who is much more accommodating to us country folk) was on a 75 minute delivery delay.

My guys looked at me fearfully. Could I handle a 75 minute wait? Finally, Nature Boy broke the tension by saying, "Mom, don't hurt me, but you are being really high maintenance! "

My husband busted out laughing, saying, "I totally could not get away with saying that!!!"

To my credit, I didn't frog my son or throw something at my husband. I WAS being high maintenance. So I laughed.

And the pizza, when it finally arrived, was totally worth the wait.
 
_____________________________________________________
 

Sadly, this pregnancy food tantrum is not my first.  My husband wrote down my previous pregnancy's Pregzilla moment in Nature Boy's baby book.  I'll post it here later this week.

When I'm not all up in my hormones, I am actually feeling really grateful.  After 10+ years of infertility, I never thought I'd be experiencing this again.  It's amazing, really.  The creation of new life is always a miracle.  But when it happens to someone who has struggled with infertility, it's magnified.  Pregnancy is such a normal, everyday occurrence for so many people, it's easy to lose sight of the wonder of it.

I love feeling the baby move.  He's kung fu fighting on a daily basis, and I love it.  I even love my big ol' belly.  Here's my latest belly pic.   (Please forgive the less than ladylike pose.) 

Mugged Again

Recently I woke up from 8 weeks of first trimester hibernation feeling decidedly frumpy.  I hadn't done my nails in months.  I only shaved because I had doctor appointments and I wanted to avoid rumors of Sasquatch sightings in the medical community.  And I hadn't had a haircut in 14 weeks.  My hair had grown out of its style and was past my shoulders.  Tree Guy told me I looked like a hippie.  And not the cute kind of hippie.

Like her.  Except I pluck my chin hair.

If you've been here awhile, you know all about my haircut issues.  About how the secret underground sorority of hairstylists has a vendetta against me.  How they've all apparently taken a blood oath to royally screw up my hair every time I dare to place my round rump in their chairs.  How they've included Nature Boy in their grudge.  

For the past year, Shrinky Dink (my artist/therapist pal) has cut my hair.  She isn't actually a hairstylist.  Which is probably why she does such a good job.  She's not bound by the pact!

Anyhoo, I woke up yesterday thinking, I must get my groove back!  I need to see some semblance of myself when I look in the mirror!

But Shrinky Dink's out of town.

So I stupidly went to a chain salon for a haircut last night.  And not just any chain salon.  The fancy one.  Inside Walmart.  Yeah.  Because hey, it was 8PM and I needed groceries anyway.

You know how you walk into a salon you've never been to before and immediately eye the stylist with the best hair in the place, hoping she'll be the one cutting your hair?  And instead you get a 15 year old with a buzz cut?

I should've run when the stylist I got suggested an asymmetrical cut.  I let her know then and there that I'm totally OCD about symmetry and if I had an asymmetrical haircut, I'd walk with my head leaning to the longer side because it would just feel that weird. 

I told her I wanted an inverted bob that falls right at shoulder length at its longest part.  And that's what she gave me.

On one side.

I asked her twice to check for evenness.  She did.  But when I got home, I realized my hair looked something like this (without the awesome color and styling).

WTF hairstylists?!  Is it really that hard to listen to what a client wants and give her that?  Most 6-year-olds can cut a straight line!

So I brought my groceries in and busted out the scissors.  I spent an hour trimming the hair on my right side to line up more evenly with the left side.  It's not easy cutting your own hair when it's curly.  WHICH IS WHY CURLY-HAIRED PEOPLE GO TO PROFESSIONALS!

Now you might be thinking to yourself, Danielle, it's your fault for going to a cheap Walmart salon!  I'll give you that.  But I have to add that I've gone to fancy salons and paid a lot more for shitty haircuts too.  It doesn't seem to matter where I go or how much I pay.  Hence my vendetta theory.

Since Shrinky Dink is a therapist, she understands OCD neuroses, and she's willing (for the 4334345th time) to fix a hairstylist's mistake when she gets back in town.

Until then, I'll be the one walking with her head slightly tilted to the right. 

Not exactly an immaculate conception, but still pretty darn miraculous

Since all 3 people who read my blog are also my Facebook friends, this will probably not be a surprise to anyone.  (Note:  I have more than 3 Facebook friends.  It's just that the other 100-odd friends don't read my blog.  F$%kers.)  (Just kidding!)  (Kinda.)

Anyhoo.  My old ass is PREGNANT, y'all!  Knocked up.  PG.  With child.  Bun in the oven.  Preggers.  Expecting.  Harboring a fugitive.

Here's the proof.  (I wanted to be really, really sure.)

^^^^I peed on those.^^^^

I am nearing 40, which doesn't exactly put me in line for the Guinness Book of World Records for Oldest Pregnant Chick, but still.  How is it possible to have chin hairs AND be gestating?  (This person aside.)

I've written before that I've been infertile for a decade, thanks to Polycystic Ovary Syndrome.  (Which I can also thank for those chin hairs.)  When I was diagnosed, the endocrinologist said, "If you want to have another baby, you are going to require fertility treatments."  We didn't want to go down that road for financial reasons, but also because my husband was afraid we'd end up with 5 babies at once.  We flirted with adopting, but finally accepted our small family size.  

A year ago I started taking Metformin.  Not for diabetes, but for hormonal balance so I could have normal "cycles".  My primary care doctor told me that I could get pregnant while on Metformin, but I didn't believe her.  Ten years of infertility and 4723655 negative pregnancy tests will do that to a person.

But it's true!  I'm about 12 weeks along now, and I've seen and heard my baby's heartbeat and had 3 ultrasounds!  This fancy, newfangled OB/GYN I see has ultrasound machines in every exam room.    Woohoo! 

This pregnancy has been different.  For one, I haven't thrown up once.  But I've been nauseous!  And I'm gassy.  (Ain't gonna lie.)  I've been really, really tired.  Even more than a middle-aged mom with autoimmunity can expect.  

My guys had different reactions to the news.  My husband was like, "It ain't mine." *

*Just kidding.  He WAS, however, all, "You're NOT pregnant!"  I like to think that his reaction was more about the aforementioned history of 4723655 negative pregnancy tests rather than a reflection of his feelings about being a middle-aged babydaddy.  Though his second reaction was, "I am going to be 58 when this child graduates high school..."

Our son was all, "Ahhh!  What!?  Nuh ugh!!!!" for about 10 minutes.  He's been perfectly fine being an only child, so that didn't surprise me.

 
What did surprise me was that after the initial shock, he was like, "Huh. This might be pretty cool."  And he's been such a help to me.  Doing dishes.  Letting me nap any old time.  Bringing me food when I'm too lazy/tired/arthritic to get it myself.

I've found out since that a few of my friends from high school are expecting new babies too.  It's great to share this with other old young-at-heart gals.  And I have local friends who've just given birth too.  So I'm in good company.  Next challenge:  Finding plus size maternity clothes.  (Wish me luck!)

Wanna see a pic of the little one?  (Is it weird to share an ultrasound picture on a blog?)

LOOK HOW CUTE!!!!!!

Summer Wrap

Whew!  It's been a busy summer, y'all!

It was all-Godspell-all-the-time for awhile there.  Here's a video of my solo.  (That's Nature Boy in the polka dots!)




I can't believe it's already Back to School time for the neighborhood kids.  Why, back in my day, we didn't start school until after Labor Day.

Long live summer!

That said, I'm totally being a follower and starting our homeschool year now too.  Our homeschooling style has shifted a lot over the 7 years we've been doing this.  We started out doing unit studies, switched to a 3Rs, Ruth Beechick-y approach, got all hippie and unschooled for a few years, and now we've settled into plain ol' "relaxed homeschooling".

Which I define as:  not enough formal school work to look or feel like actual school, but enough formal school work so I don't have panic attacks and go prematurely grey.

Finding your groove in homeschooling is like getting past that annoying period in your 20s when you're all, Who am I?  What am I supposed to be doing with my life?  It's a relief, really.  I'm fairly certain that I spent more time agonizing over learning styles, teaching methods, and what other people might think about our choices than I did actually homeschooling for the first 5 years or so.  For real.

Now that that's over (knock on wood), I can confidently say that I am:

Woohoo.

In other news, I'm still fat.

BUT, I've gone to a couple PiYo classes (pilates and yoga combo), and I really enjoyed them.  Even though I sweat like a man and I'm too arthritic for a yoga mat, so I use our gel mat from the kitchen.  (Yeah, all the young skinny girls wanna be like me!)  Usually I work out at home, alone, after everyone else has gone to bed.  Not because I'm ashamed or anything.  It's just, that's my time to Netflix binge, and exercising without being entertained by TV is just weird.

As we wrap up summertime, I'm going to take a minute to review the highlights.

Ren Faire!

We got a pet mouse.  (Read: the snake didn't want him.) 

He's actually a really friendly little guy.  Hand-tame and everthang.

Berry pickin'!

Ripley's Believe It or Not Odditorium!

Did some more crafty stuff.

Nature Boy grew an awesome garden.

And he started a wire wrapped jewelry business!
If you'd like to buy one of his necklaces, send me an email at yeahisaiditblog{at}gmail.com.  You can choose your stone from several options, and the price is $15 shipped. 
(The pendants below have already sold.)
We're considering a family Etsy shop, but for now, we're set up to take Paypal.

That's all I got!  I hope you've enjoyed your summer.  Please leave a comment sharing one of your favorite activities of the summer, or tell me something you're looking forward to this fall.

The Blogging Blahs

Don't you hate it when bloggers just stop writing and never tell you why and you go through their old posts looking for a possible reason that they stopped writing, but there isn't one, so you think that maybe the blogger died or went off-grid or got stuck in a tornado and is now in Oz?

Me too, people.

I wonder if the Blogging Blahs is an official diagnosis.  It should be.  As a long-time blog reader, I've seen it happen to many a blogger.  One month you're all up in her business, conversatin' in the comments section of her blog, making passive aggressive cartoons about her ex (or maybe that's just me), and looking forward to her next post.  The next month she's just gone.  Totally leaves you hanging.  And you're all, "I bet her asshole ex has her tied up with duct tape in his storage shed.  The lack of wifi is the only thing that would keep her from posting!"  And you're surprised to discover that you really miss her.  Her riffs and rants had become a part of your life.  Like a really dysfunctional daily newspaper.  

So I won't do that to you.

I have the Blogging Blahs.  I admit it.  I remain in awe of the awesome, witty bloggers who can do it every day (like my homie Erin at Oh Honestly, Erin).  Heck, I'm even in awe of people who can post weekly at this point.  I seem to be fresh outta blog inspiration.  Or maybe I'm just really tired.  Maybe it's because I'm anemic or maybe it's due to my vitamin D deficiency.  Crohn's disease affects nutrient absorption, but I don't seem to get the one upside to that (weight loss!).  Maybe it's this %&#*ing neverending fibromyalgia/arthritis flare.  Maybe it's that I'm really loving my life right now (except for the above-mentioned %&#*ing fibromyalgia/arthritis flare) and I'm more into living it than documenting it.  Maybe it's all of that.

I just haven't been feeling very fluent or funny lately.  Plus, that %&#*ing fibromyalgia/arthritis flare is affecting my right thumb.  So typing hurts.  &^%&*%&^!!!!

Tired, cranky me isn't really much fun.  So, when you think about it, by not blogging, I'm actually being kind. I'm being a humanitarian.  (You're totally welcome.)

I'm not depressed though.  I don't want y'all to think that.  Despite my health problems, I've been going to parties and inviting friends over and I just painted Nature Boy's bathroom.  And I've been baking!

Poo Piles

(I was aiming for the "signature swirl" from that DC Cupcakes show here, but I ended up with Poo Piles.)  

 

After the Poo Pile Debacle of 2013, I broke down and bought a cake decorating set with tips and bags and whatnot. The results were so much better!





Oh yeah, aaaaaand Nature Boy and I just got cast in a local production of Godspell!  Woohoo!  We both got principal roles, which was a happy surprise for both of us.  Don't know if you know much about Godspell, but here's a character list if you're interested.  I am playing Peggy and Nature Boy is playing Herb.  We'll be practicing for the next 3 months and the show will be in June.  We are really excited!

I guess I just want y'all to know that I will be in and out as far as blogging goes.  Which is nothing new, really.  But I won't disappear from the blogosphere without telling you first.

Inconsistently yours,
Danielle

P.S.  Today is my husband's birthday!

Monster Cookie Recipe (For Real)

Tree Guy's dad is one of 10 kids.  His parents were/are masters of cooking for a crowd.  Tree Guy remembers going to his grandparents' house in the summer as a kid and getting one of those jumbo ice cream buckets full of Monster Cookies.  It's just one of many happy memories he has of his North Dakotan grandparents.  I've tried to duplicate some of his grandma's results and failed every time.  (Although I have her bread machine now, and I've figured out how to get the loaves just right. Thanks, Grandma!)  The recipe below is a definite win.  Even for me.  


MONSTER COOKIES (Wheat-Free!)
Brought to you by Tree Guy's Norwegian/German grandparents

Ingredients

1/4 lb shortening
1/2 cup white sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar
3 eggs
3/4 lb peanut butter
4 1/2 cups oats
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
chocolate chips, M&Ms, peanuts, shredded coconut, raisins, etc.

Directions

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.  Mix wet and dry ingredients.  Roll into balls and press down onto cookie sheet lined with foil.  [Below is a picture showing you what the cookies look like if you press them down as instructed (because you are a rule follower and probably have a whole gold star sticker collection) and if you don't (because you're a rebel and anyway, this recipe is not the boss of you).  I recommend pressing them down.  They're less crumbly.]

Bake until lightly brown, about 12 minutes.

To make into a cookie "cake",  plop cookie dough onto a round pizza pan lined with foil, and press dough down into a circular shape, about a half inch in thickness.  Bake until lightly brown, about 14 minutes.

Hey 13. How YOU doin'?

Nature Boy just got back from a fabulous week-long vacation.  What a way to celebrate a milestone birthday!  First, he visited my uncle in New Orleans.  My uncle lives right on the French Quarter, so they were perfectly positioned for some N'awlins fun.

^^My Uncle Craig^^

Uncle Craig told me New Orleans would be a culture shock to Nature Boy, and I was all, "He'll be fine.  He used to take hip hop dance up on the north side of town."

But it totally was a culture shock.

The first thing that happened was a New Orleans looting of his checked baggage.  He was pissed!  I know this because he texted me in all caps with lots of exclamation points, "THEY STOLE MY STUFF!!!!!!"  

Welcome to New Orleans, buddy.

The next thing that happened was that their car was swamped by people wanting day labor.  We live in such a homogeneous suburban/rural area that my freaked out son immediately called me and said, "There are a bunch of Mexican guys surrounding our car!!!"  Like they were getting car jacked or something.

As it happens, my uncle did, in fact, need a day laborer, so it all worked out.  

The next bit of culture shock was all good though.  The FOOD, y'all.  He loved it all.  Except the beet gumbo.  But only because it was too spicy.  He also loved all of my uncle's tropical plants.  I call him Nature Boy for a reason!

^^Uncle Craig's tropical courtyard^^

(An aside:  My son excitedly brought home 3 or 4 of these plants.  "These are from Costa Rica!" he exclaimed.  Only thing is, we are in a different growing zone than New Orleans.  Those plants have to be indoor plants here, so Nature Boy brought them inside.  A couple days later, I discovered that they had a bunch of slugs on them!  Ahhhhh!  

See, I'm all about nature from a distance.  I have a rule that no pests are allowed in the house.  No roaches or mice or ticks or fleas or worms or lice.  I will turn into an OCD ninja if I even suspect an invasion.  So the plants are now in quarantine in the garage.)

The next couple days of his New Orleans trip were all about sightseeing.  They went to the awesome aquarium there, and a fascinatingly multicultural flea market where Nature Boy got yelled at by a Chinese guy for asking for a lower price on a jade carving and told by a Russian woman that he needs a haircut.  

Then they checked out a couple voodoo shops.  At first I was cool with it.  I was all, "Hey, it's part of the culture of the area.  He's learning.  It's social studies!"  But then other people around me were freaking me out by going, "You have to be careful around that stuff.  It's real."  

     ^^Place to avoid if you have OCD.  Or if your mom does.^^

Then they drove down to Houston to visit my cousin, who is a fishing guide in Galveston.  Tree Guy met them there and they all enjoyed a manly few days of fishing.

On the way back, my guys visited Tree Guy's parents and brother, Uncle Jake.

^^Wrestling action shot.^^

^^Tree Guy's mom.^^

Then, my guys were HOME!  Woohoo!!!!  It was time to get our birthday partyin' on!  And that we did.

^^Gettin' Rooty Tooty Fresh 'n' Fruity with it at IHOP with a pal.^^

^^Monster Cookie "Cake" and a fab new 'do, courtesy of Mom.^^

^^Tree Guy chomping on a slice of Monster Cookie.  It's his family's recipe.^^

^^LOVE these cute plates from Walmart.^^

Happy birthday, Nature Boy!  I love you!
______________________________________________________

P.S.  Stay tuned for the Monster Cookie recipe!

A long overdue update

I haven't been online much lately, y'all.  Still dealing with a sucky autoimmune/fibromyalgia flare, so I'm not as YAHOO! as usual.  More like, meh.

My super-awesome dog, Raven, has been taking it easy with me.  She's still Speedy Gonzales at 11.5 years old, but it seems that her last game of backyard tag with Tank resulted in a torn ACL for her.  Poor girl.  She was also diagnosed with arthritis in both hips, and with cataracts in both eyes.  She'd probably agree with Meemaw's oft-repeated lament:  "It's hell to get old."

Our vet recommended that we try 4-6 weeks of restricted movement and rest for her, with omega-3s and joint supplements and a couple weeks of Rimadyl to see if her leg will heal on its own.  We're 3 weeks in, and she is showing some improvement.  She's a lady o' leisure now, as you can see.

Oh, and Shrinky Dink found my first "official" grey hair.  Wasn't it, er, white of her to point it out?

In other--completely unrelated--news, I am now the mother of a TEENAGER!!!!!!!!

How do you feel about that?, you ask.  Well, a little bit like this:

TIME GOES BY TOO FAST, PEOPLE!  I absolutely can not imagine my kid driving in a few years.  And I definitely can't imagine allowing him to ride around in a car driven by one of my friends' hooligan kids!  He only has 5 more years of homeschooling until he graduates!  And then who will I be?  I "tease" my husband that I plan to deal with Empty Nest Syndrome by relying on pets.  Bring on the pets!!!!!  (He laughs, fearfully.)

I also feel like this:

I'm so happy that my son still hugs me and holds my hand.  That he says I understand him.  That instead of recoiling from my middle-aged momishness, he just explains to his friends, "My mom is crazy."

Whatever works, kid.

Yeah, but how do you feel about the Terrible Teens!?, you persist.

I'm happily in denial.  I figure, since I was a sweet, placid, rule-following teen myself, Nature Boy's teendom will go smoothly.

That's my story, and I'm stickin' to it.

Stay tuned for a birthday-related bruhaha post coming up!

Back to your regularly scheduled programming: 5 Things I Love

I don't know about y'all, but I'm in need of some positivity right now.  Making the decision to leave my homeschool group after 7 years and answering all of the questions about my reasons has me a bit down.

So, I bring you:

#1.  Dogs.  

They're sweet, friendly, and loyal.  They make me feel safer.  I can't imagine not sharing my life with a dog. These two are especially awesome.

#2.  Babies.

They're all adorable.  Big-headed, big-eyed, sweet-smelling, wrinkly, chubby little gnomes.  This one is my all time favorite.

#3.  Beady Earrings.

Some women feel incomplete without mascara or lipstick.  I've gotta have my earrings.  Tree Guy makes almost all of mine!  (Isn't that sweet?)  He's even tolerant(ish) of my OCD need for symmetry!  Here's a sampling of my Tree Guy-made earrings.

#4.  Simple Shoes.

These sneakers are a cushiony, adorable, and eco-friendly alternative to Converse.  (The soles are made of recycled tires!)  And bonus, they are wide enough for my cave girl feet!  I love them!

Urgent Update:  MAN!!!!  I just discovered that this line of shoes has been discontinued!  Dang it!  Sorry Tree Guy, but I need to stock up now....  (Cha-ching!)

P.S.  I love you, honey.

#5.  Books.

Who doesn't love books, right?  I usually have 3 or 4 going, all left open at random places around the house.  I'm currently reading the last book in an awesome fantasy series, The Wheel of Time.

What do you love?

Illannoyed

Shrinky Dink and I just got back from a visit to her dad's in Illinois.  Nature Boy likes him some road trips, and he's a fan of nice grandpas, so he came too.

Unlike my son, I am not a particular fan of road trips.  Riding in a car is just something I have to do to get where I'm going.  Besides, Crohn's disease and long car trips are not great bedfellows.  (I won't go into detail.)  (You're welcome.)

But I didn't want Shrinky Dink to have to make the 8 hour drive alone, so I agreed to accompany her.

Unfortunately, Nature Boy got sick with a cough and shortness of breath the day before the trip.  At night. On New Year's Day.

Which means there was nary a doctor's office open.  Since we were supposed to leave on our trip the next morning, I called several urgent care clinics.  Only one was open.  The receptionist told me to bring my son right in.  We's country folk now, so it took us a good 40 minutes to get there.  We walked in, and I told the receptionist that we'd called ahead and been told to come in.  And the chick had the nerve to say, "I'm sorry.  We just filled our last spot, like, 10 minutes ago."

Girl.      

I was all, "I called ahead!  You told me to come in!  We live 45748975685 miles away and this is the only place open!"

And she just said, "We usually refer to the ER down the street."

I stormed out.  It was dramatic.

What Miss Nonchalant failed to realize is that it was January 1st of a new year, and medical insurance deductibles start over.  Ours is $2000, and it applies to all hospital services, but not to primary care or urgent care.

Her "helpful" referral to the ER meant the difference between a $20 urgent care copay and a $2000 deductible.

So we decided to wait until the next day and go to our primary care doctor.  I set my alarm for the (ridiculously early) hour of 8:30AM and got the earliest appointment I could.  I didn't want us to get too late a start on our road trip.  And wouldn't you know, the appointment took ALL FRICKIN' MORNING!  There was some kind of communication snafu between the medical assistant-in-training and our doctor, and we sat in the exam room for an hour before I was like, "Give my kid some medical attention, yo!".

I know.  I should have spoken up sooner.  But our doctor's office has really good magazines and Cartoon Network, so Nature Boy and I were distracted.

By the time we were done picking up prescriptions at the pharmacy, it was nigh on 2 o'clock.  Too late in the day to leave for Illinois.

Plus, Shrinky Dink had discovered that her driver's license was expired and she couldn't find her birth certificate to get it renewed.

Gah!

So we had to postpone the trip another day.  Amazingly, there were no flat tires or acts of God on the way to Illinois.  And other than being one space heater and a can opener short, there were no major traumas during the trip.

Still, it's good to be home.

Drama: ain't saving it for my mama

I haven't been clicking my way through Blogland for a couple months because Nature Boy and I have been BI-ZAY.  We both got roles in a community theater production of Oliver! The Musical, and theater is a jealous mistress.  It involves so many practice sessions that I don't know how people with actual jobs do it!  They must be exhausted.  I can only do it 'cuz Tree Guy's bank-rollin' this operation.  (Thanks, babe.)

I totally get the draw of theater, though.  So many creative folks go through life doing what they have to do to get the bills paid.  Because of time or family or financial constraints, creative expression gets pushed to the bottom of the list.  I admire the people I'm working with.  They are committed to making room in their lives for creativity.  They are making sacrifices to honor the artsy fartsy parts of themselves (and to entertain the public!), and I'm sure it's not easy.  (I'm wo' out, and I'm a lady o' leisure!)

Me, as Mrs. Bedwin

We only have two more shows.  I'm really going to miss these peeps!  Theater is weird in that for two months, we're spending several days a week with former strangers.  Changing next to them in the dressing rooms, zipping up their dresses, complimenting the job they do on stage, talking about our families and hopes and health.  Then BAM!  Everyone goes his or her own way and it's back to reality.  Doing theater is a close-knit, intense, all-for-one-and-one-for-all experience.  It's like friendship bootcamp.  I hope I am able to keep some of the new friends I've made.

I hope Nature Boy stays in touch with his new pals too.  Theater kids gotta stick together!  Because their brand of awesome isn't really appreciated by their peers when they are children.  They have to wait until adulthood to get that recognition from their age mates.  It's hard.

Nature Boy, as The Artful Dodger

I've learned three major truths by doing this, my first musical in 24 years.  Prepare yourself for this wisdom I'm about to lay down:

#1 - People are basically good.  (And theater people are basically AWESOME.)  
It's okay to open yourself up to new friendships and experiences.  It helps you grow.  And it has major fun potential!  As my regular readers know, I like to say that I tend toward paranoia.  (For real.)  Doing community theater has been a sort of exposure therapy for me.  And I love the results.

#2 - It's possible to overcome stage fright.  

I've written before about my fear of performing in public.  Doing this show has been exposure therapy for that as well.  I can now walk out on stage in front of a theater full of people and belt it.  No tinny, wavering voice.  No 'stache-area sweating.  No backing out.  This has been a lifelong fear, and I am conquering it.  I'm proud of myself, y'all.

#3 - I'm nearing 40, and there's still so much to learn.  (Yay!)

I love learning.  It's exciting to get involved in something new and discover fresh avenues to explore.  I've learned how to project my voice, that even mid-1850's housekeepers need supportive bras, that menthol cough drops right before a solo really help open the throat, that theater kids really need the support of the adults in their lives, that baked goods are always welcome in the Green Room, that stage acting is not the same as film acting (it's more exaggerated), that defining one's brows makes a world of difference, that a bit of brushable hairspray is my friend, and that people in my real life think I'm nice.  (Aww!)          
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What do you do to exercise your creativity?  When was the last time you tried something new?