Jen's Elusive Story, Part One

The woman lowered herself into a kneeling position and began tending to her sorely neglected garden. In her mid-eighties, and slightly heavier than she knew she should be, her knees protested painfully. With effort, she pushed the aches of old age out of her mind. Gardening was such a calming, soothing hobby – and one she was rarely able to partake in anymore – that sharply groaning joints were not going to stop her from pursuing her passion on this fine, early spring day. Over in the corner of the yard, lost somewhere among the budding branches of the crab apple tree, a little Carolina wren sang its happy song. The sky was completely blue. The air smelled fresh, almost green, as the very slight breeze bore upon it the scent of new leaves. Hers was a small yard – no more than what one might refer to as “postage stamp” size – and it was surrounded by a weathered white fence which had seen better days. Old age, the woman thought, definitely has its disadvantages. She was remembering sadly when she would have thought nothing of coming out here herself to slap a fresh coat of white on the fence. But, since her husband had passed away ten years ago, she had admittedly let her house and yard fall into visible disrepair. Twenty years ago, her yard had been the envy of the neighborhood. She had been a member of the American Horticultural Society, President of the local gardening club, and her flowers had won so many state contests she eventually stopped keeping count. She had taught her husband how to properly mow and maintain the grass so that their yard rivaled any country club or golf course. Once, she had even gone so far as to take the mower away from him as punishment for not doing it to her exact specifications. Yes, she knew she’d been a controlling wife, but really only when it came to her plants and other growing things. Because she and Jerry had never been blessed with children, she involved herself completely with her gardening and flowers, treating them as she may have treated a child she loved. But in every other way, she was a very loving wife, allowing her husband the freedom to live his own life. She did not nag him, except about growing things and his inability to find the laundry hamper. Jerry found his passion in photography, and pursued it as obsessively as she pursued her gardening. He was known to spend hours in the garden with her, photographing her as she worked, and their small house was nearly overrun with brightly colored snapshots of flowers, bees, birds and other natural elements. Jerry’s little office, which was neatly tucked away in the nook behind the dining room, was plastered with candid photographs of his wife gardening: pulling off a pair of well-used canvas gloves, sipping lemonade from a tall glass while holding her wide-brimmed hat on with her left arm, garden tools in her left hand. She remembered when Jerry had taken up black and white photography and, for a time, the vibrant colors she so loved were replaced by sharp images in muted shades of gray. When her sweet husband realized she was disappointed by the sudden lack of color in her house, he immediately decided that black and white film was not to his liking and reverted back to color. “It was an artistic decision,” he had said, but she knew he had done it for her. Whatever Jerry did was always for her. A stabbing pain in her right knee brought her sharply back into the present. She sat back, stuck her legs straight out in front of her, put her arms behind her back and let them support her weight as she turned her face sky-ward and admired the blue. How much time had passed since she began gardening, she didn’t know – but it had clearly been quite a while because the sun was nowhere near where it had been when she began. With effort, she hauled her body into a standing position and waited, as the inevitable wave of dizziness that always overcame her after kneeling for so long, passed. Then, steadying herself with a wooden support, she stepped carefully up three risers to a slightly sagging front porch, removed her clogs, hat and gloves and left them on the neglected porch swing. As she gingerly opened the screen door, taking care not to wiggle it off its unstable hinges, she emitted a loud sigh of frustration and disgust. Maybe it was time after all, she thought to herself. Maybe she needed to sell this place and find a decent retirement home where they would let her dig in the dirt to her heart’s content. What a lovely place this had once been – and she was now too old to take care of it. She knew it was a shame to have let such a beautiful little house fall apart, but after Jerry died, the house sort of died with him. She no longer had the drive or the will to maintain it. She lifted the tattered hem of her dark house dress and stepped over the threshold into the cool, dim interior of the only place, other than her garden, she’d ever really felt comfortable. Then, after carefully guiding the protesting screen door shut, she softly closed the heavy oak door against the bright day and found her way to the tiny kitchen. (written by Jennifer Shell, February 28, 2008)

Devil or Angel?

I had celery and 24oz of water for breakfast today. For lunch, I’m going to have a peanut butter & honey sandwich, an apple, and some carrots. I’ve got applesauce and a banana for snacks. I’ve managed to lose 3lbs but it feels like it’s been the fight of my life to get those pounds gone. I’ve been trying to be diligent – mindful of what I take in and my activity level. I seem to have no problem during the day while I’m at work – even though our cafeteria cooks the world’s most perfect bacon (the smell is mouthwatering and nearly impossible to resist), and even though I’ve got access to multiple vending machines with everything from sodas to cupcakes. At work...I’m steel. I’m stone. I even managed to resist getting a yummy pizza from the Mellow Mushroom yesterday, where Aaron and Regina ordered their lunch. I also sat through my own lunch (same as above) with them and watched as they ate said yummy pizza! I’m a rock! Yes, I was sorely tempted...but Aaron sweetly and lovingly reminded me of my goal. When I’m at home, though – it’s a completely different story. Last night, Jamie made wonderful oven-baked BBQ chicken, stuffing, peas & corn, and warm bread. I ate every bite of my own food, as well as what Greta didn’t eat. Then, after the kids reluctantly went to bed, I ate another piece of bread and finished off half a pint of mint chocolate ice cream while forcing myself to watch American Idol {{shudder}}. (I eventually switched to Criminal Minds, which I think is an infinitely better show.) I probably consumed more calories and fat in three hours than I did the entire day! I’ve also promised myself that I would not eat anything after 7PM. That’s not working to well, either. I guess I justify eating at home because I know I’ve consumed next to nothing of substance during the day, and although I’m eating enough to keep me satisfied, it’s the habit that I’m having a hard time kicking. I kicked cigarettes. You’d think I’d be able to quit snacking on unhealthy food, too! Sometimes, I hear the Little Engine That Could quietly chugging along inside my head saying, “I think I can, I think I can, I think I can...” and it motivates me to continue. Other times I hear, “Ah...what the hell...it doesn’t matter what you look like anymore - wife...mom...career. Who cares, right? You’re the only one who worries about it...” and that’s when I get frustrated and lose my motivation. I feel like I’ve got a little me dressed in white with a halo and wings sitting on my right shoulder whispering encouragement into my ear, and a little me, dressed in red with a tail and horns sitting on my left shoulder whispering poison. But at times like that, I need to remember that even though, yes, I am trying to do this for myself and for my self esteem, I am also doing this so that I will be healthy and live long enough to know my grandchildren. If that’s not motivation – I don’t know what is. Now if I can just stay away from the chocolate that seems to be everywhere when I don’t want it and nowhere when I do...I’ll be OK. TTFN JMS

Toilet Paper Fairy

I don’t know how Jamie and I got so lucky, but somehow, somewhere, someone saw fit to assign a Toilet Paper Fairy to our house, our family! You know all about Toilet Paper Fairies, right? What? You don’t? Oh, well then – let me fill you in. Toilet Paper Fairies (TPFs) are living, breathing beings that are born and raised only in the forests of the United States. This means that TPFs are rare because our forests are vanishing at an alarming rate and, therefore, so are their homes! They are usually small, usually somewhere between three and four feet tall, and are one of the only varieties of wingless fairies that still exist. In fact, wingless fairies are only found in Ireland and Scotland these days, so to have TPFs in the United States is quite exciting! I digress. Anyway – TPFs spend many years in training, and, after they come of age, they are assigned to a human family. Since TPFs are so rare, not every human family can have one, so great care is taken by the Fairy Elders to decide which human family has the greatest need. Once a TPF has been assigned to a family, the TPF goes to live with them. In most cases, the sudden appearance of a TPF within a human household is somewhat disturbing because humans, for the most part, do not believe in fairies and it takes some time to get over the initial shock. But, for those few families (like us) who do believe, the assimilation of the TPF into the human family is a smooth one and causes little to no upheaval at all. The prime objective, the main goal, the one and only thing TPFs live for is to make certain that there is always a fresh roll of toilet paper on the holder in the bathroom. You’re laughing. I can see you. I’ve researched all this quite extensively so if you don’t believe me you can go fly a kite! Wow, Jen...that was uncalled for! I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m very close to this subject. Our TPF means a lot to me. It’s such a nice service that our TPF provides and you don’t realize what a perk it is until a TPF has been assigned to your family! Such drudgery it is...replacing the toilet paper rolls. Such a difficult chore even I sometimes have trouble accomplishing it. But a TPF has been extensively trained to do this one task with such expertise and precision it will absolutely blow you away! Now, having experienced what it means to have a TPF in the family, I feel sorry for those of you who do not have one. And I’m going to be very rude and selfish here and say that no, I will not share him. He is part of the Shell household now and we love him very much. I can't wait to show him off! Oh...I guess you’re wondering what our TPF looks like? CLICK HERE! TTFN JMS

2008 Academy Awards (a.k.a. The Oscars)

I was flipping through Oscar pictures, specifically the red carpet arrivals (because, I will admit, I'm addicted to that stuff...) and look who I found!

You've seen me mention Hans a couple times before in this blog, but now you get to see what he looks like...sort of. (I work with Hans...remember?) His wife won tickets to go to the red carpet event at the Oscars. Pretty cool, eh?

Anyway - I was perusing the pictures only half-heartedly looking for him 'cause I knew he was there and on the tenth picture I looked at there he was! I couldn't believe it! There's Hans - really Hans - at the Oscars!

Well...I thought it was pretty cool anyway.

TTFN
JMS

PS: You can click on the picture to enlarge it, you know.

Plumbing & Cleaning

After my extended weekend, I still feel like I have a TON of stuff to accomplish before Greta’s party on Saturday next week – although I managed to get quite a bit done this weekend, despite everything that happened to delay me. The first thing that happened was the washing machine backed up into the bathtub. We’ve been fighting with this on a lesser level for some time (remember the kitchen flood shortly after we moved in...?) but it finally got to a point where we just couldn’t do anything. Every drain in the house was blocked. This also meant no potty! Great. (And from a woman's perspective, this was REALLY not a good time - if you know what I mean...) So, Saturday morning found me calling my friend Barb to ask if I could, with my kids, invade her house until something got resolved with the plumbing situation at our house. This, thankfully, was not a problem, and though she had an early morning errand to run, she was perfectly fine with me and mine hanging out while she was gone. Barb’s house has a great play room with lots of fun toys (meaning different toys than ours) and lots of space in which to use them. Charlie had a blast playing by himself, and was completely thrilled at the prospect of playing with Barb’s son Sammy. (Sammy and Charlie have known each other their entire lives and are very good buddies; they are one month apart in age.) When Barb got home, we had some much-needed girl time along with peanut butter sandwiches, celery sticks, carrots, and strawberries. Yummy! I never get to see Barb any more, and we live three miles away from each other! I love her dearly and so it was a very nice break to get to spend some time with her - even with the distraction of the kiddos. I guess busy is what happens when you become a parent, eh? Eventually the boys both started getting tired, and therefore there was more arguments and general grumpiness. I took Charlie and Greta home for a nap, and though Charlie complained bitterly about napping, he fell asleep in less than five minutes. While I was at Barb’s house, Jamie was at home with our friend George and a very long pipe snake trying to make some headway with the plumbing situation. When their efforts yielded little, Jamie called a plumber. The plumber came, did his thing, yanked out a bunch of weeds and roots growing in the dark, damp pipes (oh...great) and was on his way...$250.00 later. It was then that the laundry began again in earnest. It had been piling up for two days, not to mention the stuff that had been in baskets waiting to be washed. Needless to say, the pile was significant. (Laundry and I are not friends, even though we are well acquainted.) Then on Sunday, I took a cue from my friend Sarah and completely rearranged my bedroom. This also added to the pile of laundry because I picked up several loads of stuff that the dog was sleeping on!!! (Don’t ask...) So now there’s still a lot of laundry to do, but the bedroom is neat and clean! I’ve got to finish cleaning and organizing the stuff in the living room and kitchen, but otherwise, I’m on a roll. I’ve got major motivation in that I’m having people – real, live people – over to my house for an actual party! If that’s not a fire under my you-know-what, then I don’t know what is! Anyway – I guess that' s it for now. Hope everyone had a good weekend! TTFN JMS

Crib Scootin' - a game for babies!

Greta's crib has casters with wheels on it and it's constantly half-way across her room. She's a very active little thing. I finally had had enough of pushing the thing back to where it should be, so I purchased those caster cups - you know, the square (and sometimes round) things that are brown, made of a very hard rubber, which you place under the legs of furniture to protect the wood floors? My thought process was, since they have a "lip" the crib casters won't jump the lip and the crib will, hopefully, stay put. This morning found me on my belly under the crib struggling to get a caster cup under the wheel in the far corner. It was difficult, but I managed. Eventually I had a cup under each wheel. I tested it. No more than some minor wiggling!!! I'd fixed the problem! Quite happy I was...until Greta realized she couldn't scoot the crib across the floor anymore and screamed bloody murder! Man was she angry! She jumped up and down, rattled the rails, and tried to slide the crib anywhere but where it was - all without satisfaction. I've never seen her so mad! She was red in the face and screaming her little head off. Poor thing. It was actually quite funny. It had never occurred to me that she was scooting the crib across the room on purpose! I just thought it was a product of having an active baby! Well...she'll get used to it! TTFN JMS

Unexpected Vacation

No...I didn't get fired. Sheesh. What a terrible thing to have come to your head first thing! I just had to take an extra day off this week. I'm usually off every other Friday, so since this is that week...I had to take Thursday, too. Jamie had a few things he needed to take care of at his Dad's house that came up last minute and he knew he'd be gone all day. We couldn't ask to leave our kids with a sitter for twelve hours (I work 10 hour days this week) and so here I am. Not much time to blog and honestly not much to say. We're all doing well, though! TTFN JMS

Jumping for Joy? Er...no.

How do you know you’re not a kid anymore? When, at 34 years old, you cannot jump rope for more than 60 seconds without feeling like you’re going to die. Let me paint this picture for you in greater detail. I’ve given up soda and am attempting to give up red meat and just generally change the way I live my life health-wise. On Monday, I asked Jamie to buy me a jump rope – not a cheap plastic one, but a decent one for fitness – which he kindly did. My intent was to go outside to the little 4’ x 5’ slab of concrete at the end of the ramp to our front porch and jump rope for five minutes every morning. On Tuesday morning, I got up before the birds were even awake and changed into a pair of gym shorts, a long-sleeve, Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure t-shirt, a pair of white socks and my old, nasty sneakers. I put a bandanna on my head to keep my hair out of my face, grabbed the little white timer off the stove, hooked a finger through a loop in the jump rope, and headed out into the dark and chilly (ok...darn cold) morning. It smelled like winter was clashing with spring; an odor that was calming and invigorating at the same time. The sky was clear and full of stars and, though the puppy across the street began barking his fool head off the second I set foot outside, it seemed pleasantly quiet. I set the timer for 5 minutes, placed it on the hand rail of the ramp, positioned myself in the middle of the concrete slab and started jumping. Around and around went my arms, around and around went the rope. I was doing OK...for about five seconds. The longest five seconds of my life! I pushed myself harder, completely mortified that I was getting winded so quickly. In no time, I was almost unable to jump high enough to get the rope under my feet and the thing kept getting snagged on the concrete. I’m sure if a neighbor was watching me from the window of their house, they got a good laugh because the entire thing was a complete disaster. I think I was able to jump for about 1.5 minutes before I gave up, collected the timer (which was still happily ticking away my good intentions...the damn thing) and stumped back into the house to recover. I did not have an asthma attack, but I was winded. Muscles I forgot I had burned like they were on fire and my heart was hammering madly inside my chest. I felt defeated. I felt embarrassed. I felt let down. I felt determined to try again. And I will. But only after I recover my dignity. TTFN JMS

Busy, busy, busy

It’s just one thing right after another at the moment - and I don’t mean anything bad by that, I just mean that I’m really busy. I just finished with a small (yet time consuming) project for Valentine’s Day at work. I’m still right in the middle of planning a larger function for the managers and supervisors which isn’t huge, but which has required much more time and attention than I think it warrants. Not to mention the fact that I had the thing finished (done, finito) when someone – I’m not naming any names (ahem...CE!!!) – messed up the travel arrangements and asked me to redo everything I’d already done so our Sr. VP could be there for the event. Thankfully I had a back-up location ready and waiting for my call and my vendor put out a couple fires and just moved the date on his calendar saying he’d be there come you-know-where or high water. That’s mostly done. Then I’m in the middle of one newsletter and just finished another which is currently in my boss’s hands awaiting his approval so I can print the hundred or so copies and send it off. And we just finished with our quarterly meeting at work – though I didn’t really have too much involvement with this one. AKP, take a bow - it was great, even if you didn't think so. Then there’s party planning, and kitchen cleaning, and laundry doing, and kid watching...the usual stuff. Oh...and I finally got my bed just the way I like it: bed skirt, foam mattress pad, fitted mattress pad, soft fitted sheet, soft flat sheet, blanket, and down comforter with a lovely duvet cover. Now if I can just convince Jamie to quit un-tucking the covers on his side of the bed so that everything will stay neat and unwrinkled, I’ll be even happier! (Hint hint!) We’re rolling right along. How did life get so busy? TTFN JMS

Automatic vs. Manual

It’s interesting how you get used to things. For example, lots of places (my office included) have auto-flush toilets. There’s some groovy sensor that seems to know when you’re done (more like it just flushes at your slightest movement which really sucks when you’re still...um...taking care of business) and flushes the thing for you; hands free, fewer germs, less thought – yadda yadda yadda.

So what’s funny is when you are somewhere that doesn’t have an auto-flush toilet and you stand up, put yourself back together (hopefully managing to avoid having any toilet paper stuck to your shoe), leave the stall and begin washing your hands – only then realizing you didn’t hear a flush and understanding all at once that you must have expected it to flush all by itself! You go back, flush the toilet with your foot, and then wash your hands again...just for good measure.

Ok...so maybe that’s just me...

Then there’s the auto-release paper towel thingy where you, again, wave your hand in front of a funky sensor and with a quiet “Whirr” a pre-specified length of paper towel is released into your wet, waiting hands.

I could say a lot of things about the benefits and downfalls of these bits of technology, but I won’t. I won’t because I think it all is such an improvement over the “air” dryer which never exactly dries your hands completely or blows cold air which doesn’t do anything. Or, what about the horrible “one towel” thing that most gas stations used to use where you had the metal box with one very long towel hanging out that had been sewn into a circle and you just pulled the thing to a hopefully-dry section while trying not to think of what else the thing has been used to dry. The tri-fold paper towels are just wasteful and mostly useless because unless you use about fifteen of them, they don’t dry your hands in the first place. Oh...and wiping your hands on your pants is just wrong unless you’d rather have wet hand prints on your rear.

I didn’t even mention the auto-faucet that is never quite warm enough and never runs quite long enough to wet your hands, much less strip them of whatever soap you’ve used. And that’s only IF you’re one of the few people that actually wash their hands religiously when you’ve used the restroom. You know who you are. (Don’t get me started on that one!)

And then there’s the auto-soap dispenser that disperses a pre-measured amount of soap (foam or otherwise) into your waiting hands... But even these only work half the time and I find that I most always need more than the pre-measured amount the first “shot” gives me. What happened to a good old-fashioned bar of soap?

My thought is that even though the auto-functions of these neat restroom gadgets often leave much to be desired, the basic thought behind them is sound; to help the general public touch fewer things and therefore hopefully reduce illness. That is, of course, if you use them the way they were designed to be used – and that, friends, is a whole other subject.

TTFN
JMS

(OK...what was that?)

Gas, Toothbrushing, Twitching Eye Lids & Broken Pieces

This morning, I got into my frozen vehicle, started the reluctant engine, and noticed that my “FEED ME SEYMOUR” gas light was on. (I have a hungry vehicle.) This obviously meant that I would need to make a stop at the gas station before heading out of town to work. Get ready for a gripe fest... First of all, it’s cold. I hate (HATE) filling up the car when my fingers feel like they’re about to freeze off! Second, when I pulled into the station, the big sign that informs all motorists of the price of a regular gallon of gas was $2.89/gal. By the time I had swiped my card to begin the process of filling up the tank, a dude was coming out of the station with the long suction-cup stick and two huge number 9’s. I quickly looked at the display on the pump which lists the amounts for regular, premium and supreme (whatever...) to see that it was still at $2.89/gal. (Phew!) Then...I finish pumping the gas. The little display thing asks me if I want a receipt, to which I respond a resounding “Yes” by enthusiastically pressing the “YES” button on the machine. (Hey, it’s cold!) Display reads, “RECEIPT WITH ATTENDANT.” Um...isn’t the point of the pay-at-the-pump feature to get your receipt OUTSIDE so you don’t have to go INSIDE? That frustrates me to no end! So now I’ve got to go IN to the station to get my stupid receipt. (I realize that this is just the sort of behavior that quite a few news and media stations are talking about; that we’re becoming a lazy nation; but come on...!!?? Why have the service if it doesn’t do what it’s supposed to!?) Yes, I’m grumpy this morning. My right eye lid is twitching and has been since yesterday morning. It’s driving me crazy!!! Speaking of tooth brushing... I remember reading somewhere a list of questions; one of which was “How come people brush their teeth with their eyes closed?” I noticed myself brushing my teeth this morning with my eyes closed. I was concentrating very hard on reaching all my teeth – especially the back ones. I wonder if extreme concentration is the reason for the closed eyes. Oh...and last night I did something terrible that made me cry. Jamie - my sweet, loving, thoughtful husband, brought my Valentine's Day gifts to me at work yesterday; along with both of my adorable children. They were made to wait for about 20 minutes before I got to them because I was in a meeting. I received several different types of mint-chocolate candy and a wonderful pottery sculpture of a man and woman leaning over and kissing. It looked very old and was the perfect thing for our house; right colors and everything. I really loved it, though I'm not sure Jamie believed me. So the terrible thing...? I broke it last night. I set it on an upside-down Rubbermaid Tote in our living room, intending to put it on top of the curio cabinet when I could get back there (it's tucked in a corner), but I accidentally kicked the tote, pushing it just enough to wobble the lovely sculpture which promptly fell to the floor (about 15 inches down) and landed on the rug with a quiet "POP!" I'm left looking in surprise and dismay at about 100 shards of a beautiful piece of pottery that was completely intact just seconds before. I was stunned, embarrassed, worried, sick to my stomach, and most definitely upset; I quietly turned the movie I'd been watching off and sat there and cried. I picked up the pieces and put them in to the Pier 1 bag it came in and am hoping I can replace it - but I will always know it isn't the one that Jamie gave me. I hate that. I feel terrible. But it honestly was an accident - though I knew...I KNEW...that I should have put it on the curio cabinet right away. Why am I so lazy?! Why did I not just get up off my fat you-know-what and do it before getting involved in that stupid movie? I'm sorry, sweetie. Happy Valentine's Day. (Someone please, please, please give me a solution for this twitching eye lid!!!) TTFN JMS

Valentine's Day 2008

When I got home from work last night, Charlie came running to greet me with an excited exclamation of, "Mommy!!! We've got a present for you!"

I was made to stand in the middle of the living room with my eyes closed and my hands held out in front of me. Into my hands was placed something cool, somewhat weighty though not heavy, and probably plastic. I waited quietly for them to tell me I could look.

"OK, Mommy!!! Open your eyes!"

Upon opening my eyes, I beheld a clear, hard plastic drinking cup (the disposable kind you get at quality parties) stuffed with an unknown blue substance that looks like play-doh (but is more likely the homemade version of the same) and shoved down into the blue "earth" were about 10 pipe-cleaner, bead & foam heart flowers.

Charlie had made me my very own garden for Valentine's Day.

I asked him if I could take my garden to work with me and put it on my desk for everyone to admire.

He said, "Um..." (screwing up his little face in his goofy Charlie way) "...no. You can leave it here."

So my beautiful play-doh garden is still at home. I'm wondering, as I type this if, I can save it forever? Will it grow mold and get sticky after a year or two of gracing whatever surface it sits upon? Or, will it simply dry out and fade? I guess all I have to do is fix it in my memory and it will be there forever; that's the best way to keep these things anyway.

TTFN
JMS

November 7, 2007

So last night, I left the office at 4:30 PM, started the Taurus and drove 1 mile to Pellissippi Parkway which would put me on a direct path toward home. Almost as soon as I mreged into traffic on the Parkway, the Taurus started to sound like a mini-chain saw. It has been making a slight whining noise for a couple of weeks - and our mechanic had looked at it - but nothing seemed to be amiss at the time. Well, since I have no cell phone, I couldn't call Jamie to tell him what was going on, so I decided to drive straight to our mechanic and have him take a look. 11 miles later, I pulled into a parking space at our mechanic's shop. I walked into the building and asked him if he could listen to my car. "Yeah...I heard it when you pulled in..." he responded with a grin on his face. (He later told Jamie that this could "put us back on top" - meaning that we would again be in the number one position of being his best clients.) Well, he and hs mechanic got the car started, opened the hood - and almost immediately the power steering belt busted. (I was in the office calling Jamie to ask him to come rescue me when I heard, "Shut it off! Shut it off!" and saw the shop guy running to turn the car off.) Somehow, the rotor that turns the power steering belt shifted and it was grinding into the alternator casing - hense the mini-chain noise. Scott (our mechanic) burned his finger on the car. Our washing machine backed up and flooded our kitchen (making the toilet gurgle and the bathtub fill with direty water). Charlie got into trouble because when I called Jamie to tell him about the flood in the kitchen, Charlie answered Jamie's phone and wouldn't let me talk to Jamie. The conversation went something like this: Charlie: "Hi Mommy! We're putting to gether a cabinet at daddy's office!" Me: "That's great, bud! Let me talk to daddy for a minute, OK?" Charlie: "Um...no. He's busy." Me: "Charlie - I really need to talk to daddy, please. Put him on the phone, will ya!?" Charlie: "Um...no. He can't talk to you right now." Me: "Charlie, this is important - put daddy on the phone, please. Charlie: "No." It went on in that vein for a little longer with me getting increasingly angry at Charlie and with Charlie flatly refusing ot hand over the phone. I got extremely frustrated, hung up, and called back a minute later. Jamie answered this time, I told him what the problem was, and he said, "There's nothing I can do about it now." Yeah - great night! So then later, Charlie came into our room around 1AM and clamored into bed with us. Then Greta wok up hungry so we had all four of us in the bed together and that's how we spent the rest of the night. I'm sure Jamie had as many arms and legs all over him as I did. At one point, Charlie had flung his leg over Greta and Greta had her arm flung over him! It was such a tangle of appendages and would have been quite comical, if it hadn't been 3AM! Oh, what I wouldn't give for a king-size bed on those nights! TTFN JMS

Benign!

Yep. I'm very relieved. The nurse called me yesterday to say that the biopsy results came back and they were all benign. NO CANCER!!! I admit I was a bit more worried than I thought I was, but now I'm just glad it's over. The doctor wants me to come back in 6 months (around August) for another ultrasound, performed in their office, by their technician. They may also do another biopsy at that time, just to determine if anything has changed. Otherwise, there is no urgency to have my thyroid removed, and for that, I am extremely grateful! I'll probably have it removed at some point anyway, simply because a 4cm mass is not really supposed to be in one's thyroid, and I don't like it there. But it's healthy and functioning normally! Thank you all for all your thoughts, kind words, and prayers! TTFN JMS

Toothpaste 1st, Thanks to Katy, 2nd (though definitely not an afterthought!)

Ok. What is it about toothpaste and tooth brushing in general? Here’s what I mean. You have all seen commercials, television shows, and movies in which some goofball is brushing their teeth, right? Have you ever noticed how there’s never any toothpaste to be seen, and when the tooth brusher (is that a word?) needs to spit, you simply hear a noise that’s supposed to indicate spitting, but never actually see the glob of toothpaste you KNOW should be there? Or, if you do see them spit, it’s just a trickle of nothing? (This is usually the case, unless you’re watching some kind of extreme comedy that is funny simply because of their over-exaggeration – you can then be sure to see plenty of toothpaste foam and spit globs.) When I brush my teeth, I almost always have toothpaste all over my face, even if I try to be careful about it, and I’ve always got a mouth full of minty goo to liberate when I’m done. Let me just tell you, folks, it’s never pretty. So how do you commercialize or advertise toothpaste? You get a good-looking person to smile vacantly, stand quietly, and pretend to brush their teeth with none of the sloppy stuff that gets all over the faces of “the average person.” This is why commercials, television shows, and movies never use “the average person.” Just my two cents. TTFN JMS PS: Thanks to my friend Katy for providing me with the answer to my “Where to have Charlie’s birthday party” problem. She is the President of the Oak Ridge Convention & Visitors Bureau and works closely with the Parks and Recreation people and thus was able to not only redeem the Parks & Rec Department in my eyes (though I really wasn’t upset after about five minutes...I just moved on) but she also suggested several options, one of which should work perfectly. Now if only the weather holds up, we’ll be good to go!

Party planning

I’m not feeling it today. Sometimes I know exactly what I am going to write about – I don’t even have to think about a subject. Today is not one of those days. I’m covering a multitude of different things in my head, but none of them seem “blog-worthy.” Anyway... I’m planning both Greta’s and Charlie’s birthday parties. Greta will be one on March 8th and I’m completely amazed that she’s been here for a year already! Jamie absolutely does not want to combine the kids’ parties, and I am inclined to agree with him. And, though attending Charlie’s party only two or three weeks after Greta’s will be difficult for some of the invitees (namely out-of-town family and friends), I don’t see any way around it. Greta’s party is going to be simple. I’m not doing anything. No major decorating, just some major cleaning to accommodate the people we’ve invited over. (If you haven’t received an invitation, it’s not because we don’t want you, it’s just we’re not sure we’ve got enough room!) Charlie’s party, however, is a different story. Charlie will be four years old this year! I really want to throw him a soccer-themed party; he loves being able to get out and kick a ball around and I love the idea of having all the three-, four- and five-year-olds outside and not in my house. There’s a park nearby called Milt Dickens Park and they’re currently rebuilding the play ground, but there’s also a great soccer field. I thought maybe, just maybe, the Oak Ridge Parks & Recreation Department would allow me to “rent” the field for a couple hours so the kids could use the playground (which should be completed by then) and kick the soccer balls around, while enjoying pizza and cake. I called the Parks & Rec Dept this morning and the lady on the other end (a disembodied voice that sounded deprived of caffeine and as if she were sitting on a bed of nails wishing she were anywhere but where she was) told me in no uncertain terms, “No, we don’t rent out our fields like that.” And then proceeded to hang up on me! What happened to customer service? Good grief! Honestly, when she hung up on me, I was tempted to call her back and give her a piece of my mind; I was seething! But I spent a good five minutes calming down and then decided it wasn’t worth my time. Now I just need to see if I can find somewhere to have Charlie’s soccer party. I still really want to do it and I’m not out of ideas yet, I’ve just been thwarted. Once. It takes more than that stop me when I’m really on about something! Anyway – I guess that’s it for now. TTFN JMS

Thyroid Update...again

The good news is that my thyroid is functioning normally; that means my thyroid is producing a normal amount of whatever it is that a thyroid produces. So no hypothyroidism, which, I have to admit, is a bit of a disappointment because I was absolutely convinced we were finally on the right track. But, the doctor said he didn’t like the mass – it is 4 cm, roughly the size of a golf ball. (The US image here is one he gave me that had an off-measurement on it, but showed a pretty decent view of the mass – nodules, fluid and all.) He convinced me to have a biopsy, and so I have. It was uncomfortable and nerve-wracking, and for some reason I’m extremely emotional now, but I’m fine.

I’ll know more in a week (next Thurs) when the biopsy results come back. The doctor did say, though that if the mass is this big now, it may just continue to grow and therefore should probably come out anyway – but the biopsy results should let him know just what he’s dealing with.

TTFN
JMS

Water, Trees & Potatoes

A water main broke across the street from our house on Friday afternoon. When Jamie came flying back into the house and demanded the phone book, I knew something was up. Since the phone book is probably buried somewhere under one of the many piles of crap we have all over our house, we got online and found the number for the City Public Works Department. They said they’d send someone out to check on it. Meanwhile, hundreds of gallons of murky brown water continued to gush in torrents out of the ground, under the sidewalk and into the street. Thank God for the small favor if having a sewer drain RIGHT THERE or we might have been flooded! Less than ten minutes later, a city truck came by, marked the obvious spot with a blue stick, and left again. Because I went to Greenville, SC this past weekend, I was not around to witness the big earth movers and work men who undoubtedly came to stop the flow. It was mostly fixed when I got back on Sunday afternoon. The pipe is sticking up from a very large hole in the ground and there is mud everywhere, not to mention the fact that we’re now missing two (or is it three) square sections of sidewalk. Ok – so I do have a point. So Charlie is remembering this broken pipe on a daily basis and telling anyone who will listen all about it. Yesterday, when he was on the phone with me he asked me if I knew about the pipe. Jamie, in the background says, “Yes, Charlie – she knows about the pipe!” He goes on about this pipe the way he went on about the tree in our backyard that was hit by lightening, exploded, and sent a significant piece of bark and tree through the window of our living room back in April of 2006! “The lightening that blew off the bark!” He’d talk about that to anyone who’d listen. It amazes me how long kids’ memories are. Just when you think they’ve forgotten something, they bring it up again. It also amazes me how much they hear. When you think you’re speaking in code to your husband or a friend on the phone, your little one will say, “You know who knows you know what!” It is also just as surprising when they bring up something random. This morning, my very good friend Aaron was telling me about a conversation she had with her almost five-year-old son, Jacob. They were discussing storms because he doesn't like them and we’re having a doozy here today. She said that out of the blue, in the middle of the conversation, Jacob asks, “Mom, where do potatoes come from?” I told her she should tell him, “Idaho.” TTFN JMS

Jen in Print

I am a published author.

(tee hee)

Yeah, OK so it's just a local newsprint magazine, but I'm excited about it. I've already shared it with my friends that I see regularly, but if you can get a copy of the Anderson County Visions Magazine for February 2008, it's on page 16! Or, you can just click on the pictures! (No, it's not online.)

Anyway - thought I'd share!

TTFN
JMS

(Oh...and yes...I'm aware that they spelled my name wrong.)

The Epitome of Random Ramblings (a.k.a. My Weekend)

I had a surprisingly wonderful, yet long and exhausting weekend. I managed to get permission from my boss to leave early (12:30) on Friday afternoon because I had gotten it into my head that I needed to visit Sandy. She’s been such a constant in my life and occasionally is my only grounding force. With all that’s going on right now, I needed the craziness (which is somehow calming) that exists only at her house. She has this cat named Chauncey, who is a beautiful black and white mix of who-knows-what with the softest fur of any cat I’ve ever known. He’s absolutely terrified of everything. He scoots out of the room (or under the bed, or outside, or under the sofa) as fast as he can if he perceives danger in any form. In his eyes, danger can be his sense that you’ve even thought about walking into the same room with him; the noise from the furnace that clicks all night long; the hum of the refrigerator; the flush of a toilet, the leaf from the house plant that accidentally touched the single strand of hair that was sticking up on his back, and yes...his own shadow. He’ll only eat on the dining room table or on a chair in the kitchen (which Sandy brings in there just for him), and only then if everyone holds still and doesn’t make a sound. If someone sniffles (like me) he makes a bee line for the back door. He’s nuts. She’s nuts, too, you know? I say that in the most affectionate and joking way...but it’s true. She spends most of her day talking to the cat and neighbor’s animals. She has contact with other humans, but I truly think she’s most comfortable around animals. Not that it makes a difference – I love her anyway. So on Friday afternoon I took baby Greta and she and I made the three and a half (nearly four) hour trip to Greenville, SC for an impromptu visit. The drive was completely uneventful, although I left about an hour later than I wanted to and arrived at Sandy’s house after dark – which I had really wanted to avoid. The traffic was pretty much a non-issue until I got into the City of Greenville and then it was awful. There must have been something happening at the Bi-Lo Center because as I drove through downtown, there were people walking everywhere, guys (and women) in those orange reflective vests handling parking (Park Here! Only $5.00!), and people driving cars who didn’t seem to have a clue where they were going. It seems interesting to me that only a few years ago I was afraid of driving, and most specifically, driving on the highway – and now I think nothing of driving two states over and four hours away to an unfamiliar city (rapidly becoming more familiar) and am still able to find my way around even in heavy traffic after dark. That would have terrified me before I conquered whatever fear it was that was keeping me within a five block radius of my house. I digress. So Jamie took Charlie up to visit his Mom, Dad and sisters in southern Virginia and East Tennessee (respectively). I really don’t know what they did except I know they had a nice visit and Charlie was a very good boy. Sandy took me to get my hair cut (desperately needed, by the way) by her friend and neighbor Annika. It was the fastest and probably the best haircut I’ve ever had...and I’m thrilled to death! It’s amazing what a good hair cut can do for one’s self esteem! And then she took me shopping, so I now have two new shirts, a pair of pants and a skirt. She oooh’d and aaah’d over Greta, who was at her smiley best all weekend and gave me little to no trouble at all. And then I left yesterday at 10AM for the long drive home. Again, a completely uneventful drive. I wanted to get home well before Super Bowl festivities began. (Go Giants!) So...now that I’ve written forever about nothing in particular (I know, I had no point at all...) I’ll sign off. Happy Monday! Hope everyone had a great weekend! TTFN JMS

Feeling better...

I feel much better today. I haven’t been able to get the thyroid thing out of my head because my brain automatically followed this thought process: Swollen Thyroid = Nodules = Cancer. Yes, there’s that “C” word rearing its ugly head in my life, yet again. As if it isn’t enough to lose two beloved parents from it. As if it isn’t enough to have my sweet, wonderful Father-in-Law suffering with it even now. That horrible word seems to be ever-present in my life; it just won’t go away. (I’ve said the word once I will not say it again. It will be “it” from now on.) Sandy had her neighbor the doctor call me yesterday to discuss the situation and give her educated opinion on what she thought it might be, which, thank God, is not...it. She says that, without seeing the lab or ultrasound results, she would be pretty confident with a diagnosis of something called a Multinodule Goiter. Yay. Now, even though I have not been officially diagnosed yet, I feel MUCH better about the entire thing. Yes, it’s no fun knowing that very soon I’m going to be having needles stuck into my neck and that the possibility of surgery is pretty good, but I still feel better. I can deal with this. I’m a strong person and I have to remember that there are people in this world who have problems much worse than mine. Because I felt better mentally, I actually managed to sleep last night; when I wasn’t being interrupted by one or the other of my children who simply cannot manage to sleep through the night! Greta was up no less than four times and Charlie was up twice. Jamie cannot hear them unless I pound on him to wake up (remember, he’s deaf in one ear) and then he wakes up grumpy and complaining, so I usually just deal with the kids myself at night. I guess it’s the concept of, “I have them though the entire day, you can deal with them through the entire night.” Not that I’m complaining, or anything! :) It’s no wonder none of us gets any sleep. Anyway – I’m feeling better and will just wait patiently for my doctor to call me. I did call them yesterday to voice my concern and ask if they knew anything yet. The lady who answered the phone said that the reports were back, but the doctor was out sick and so someone else was reading her reports and seeing her patients. This was a nice way of saying, “You’re report is in a stack of paperwork that no one has time to read because we’re short-staffed today.” I’ll keep you posted! Thanks for your all your thoughts, prayers, and kind words! TTFN, JMS