Sunday, May 23, 2010

Toddler dictionary, part two.

A few more Sarah-isms to add to the toddler dictionary.  Too cute not to write down.


Na-kin: the thing you wipe your mouth with after lunch.  Unless you forget and wipe it on your sleeve.

Ploma: the rolled up piece of paper with a string tied around it that they give you at graduation.

Fee-ater: large building where you go pay out the nose to see a movie.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Impossible situation.

I really don't want to write about this because I don't like to immortalize bad things...but this is worth writing about.  My grandmother always said I was "tender-hearted."  I think she was right.
Last Friday night I was on my way home from work at 3:30 in the morning.  Everything was dark blue-black except my headlights and the little pair of eyes shining back at me there in the road.  After I saw the little cat curled up in a ball in the road, clearly still alive, I had to stop.  I turned around and pulled into that lane with my hazard lights on so that no one would run over the cat again.  Three thirty in the morning is when all the critters are out.  It's the absolute worst time to try to drive home.  Every single night I'm dodging animals in the road.  I'd rather fight rush hour traffic than dodge animals.  But alas, there it was.  Someone rushing along this busy highway had obviously hit the little grey and white tabby cat and the poor thing was just in the middle of the road curled up, bleeding from the mouth and trying  hard to breathe.  Coughing up blood, meowing at me.  It was just awful.  It was so dark and there was no one out there but me and the kitty.  I paced around for a minute.  I'd just ended a 36 hour period where I'd worked 24 of those hours and I was really tired, but I could not just leave the cat.  I called the local sheriff's office and asked them to come.  They never did.  I called the 24 hour trauma vet but they told me that if I brought the cat to them I'd have to take financial responsibility and it would more than likely cost me around a thousand dollars.  Then several minutes later an off duty cop pulls over, still in his uniform.  He shines his light on the cat, who has now made it to the side of the road all by itself and tells me not to give up on the little guy just yet.  He might make it the cop told me, "but you need to get your car off this road because you and I are probably the only two sober people here."  Three times, three different ways, he told me to get back in my car and get the heck off that dark highway.  So I did.  It was an awfully impossible situation.

The next morning I was still upset about the cat and I told my family what had happened.  Sarah asked, "did the cat die Mommy?" I told her I didn't know.  She then said, "well, it's okay Mommy - she'll just go to Heaven and be alive again!"

After Sarah's pre-school graduation ceremony (where my camera batteries died right at the start), we went back home taking the route by where I'd seen the cat.  I looked all over but it wasn't there.  I'm hoping it made its way back home to someone who could afford the thousand dollar vet bill...or made it to kitty Heaven the way Sarah suggested.

It's too bad the trauma vet wouldn't just help the cat.  I would have been willing to pay something, but that price was outrageous.  In the Emergency Room, we take whatever walks in the door - especially when you've been hit by a car!  It's not the best deal for the hospital financially, but in the end it's the right thing to do - to take a legitimate someone who is seriously hurt and do our best to save their life.  For a brief moment I actually considered taking the cat back to the ER where I work, but I knew I'd get some strange looks and maybe a "get the hell out of here with that thing!"

My own cat is an extension of my little family.  I feed her well, I give her medicine for fleas, and she can sleep in my bed if she wants (although most days she doesn't).  I don't understand how someone can hit an animal on the road and not stop - as if that life was disposable.

To make matters worse, tonight I get this email on a list-serv I'm a member of:

"Anyone looking to adopt an animal?  Paulding county Animal shelter (GA)
will be closing May 28th for construction. All animals are being
adopted out for $20 each. This includes shots, spay/neuter, and
micro-chipping. All animals not adopted by May 28th will be euthanized.
This is a great opportunity for anyone to give an animal a second
chance
on life"

An animal shelter is closing for renovations and will euthanize all animals that aren't gone in 10 days time?  My goodness.

I plan on making a donation to the Humane Society in that little cat's honor - hope you will too.  www.humanesociety.org

Thursday, May 13, 2010

Shhhh! Quiet! Mama bear is sleeping.

My husband is perhaps my number one deterrent when it comes to sleeping at night.  For one, he snores.  This is a relatively new-ish thing.  He didn't snore until about two years ago.  It isn't constant...just once in a while as he sleeps.  But here's the thing that really gets me...I go to sleep early some nights and he stays up late.  But when he comes to bed he steps on the squeaky wooden floor and it wakes me up!  So tonight I've been amusing myself with pogo.com.  Goodness gracious what a total waste of time.  But I suppose a little mindless balloon popping never hurt anyone!  Now, off to bed.  Should I whack him on the head?  :)

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

National Fibromyalgia Awareness Day.

The last few days I've been feeling kinda crappy.  It all started last week when I stopped taking Lyrica.  You see, I've been diagnosed with Fibromyalgia - 3 times in the last 10 years!  Most recently my very awesome doctor prescribed Lyrica which actually worked pretty good - but it made me kind of fuzzy headed and worst of all, it made me gain weight.  Which clearly I don't need to do!  Just the opposite, I need to lose weight to the tune of about 40 pounds.  So, because of that, I decided to titrate down on my dosage and completely go off of it.  By Saturday afternoon I couldn't move my head.  Fortunately my dad had some Loritab and he gave me two of them so I could move around on Saturday and Sunday.  Today I went to see my doctor and he said that he's more convinced than ever that I do indeed have Fibromyalgia.  And it just so happens that today is National Fibromyalgia Awareness day.  I was given a new medicine to try that doesn't cause weight gain, so I've already taken my first dose.  Even though it hurts I'm going to continue trying to get out of the house and move around, take a walk.  In this vein I had the following conversation with my daughter just now:

Me: Hey I've got a suggestion.
Sarah: What is it?
Me: We can walk down to the creek with the binoculars and see if we can spot the geese and their babies or we can play our new Scrabble game (just got it today to practice building words with her).
Sarah: Um, how about we do both? (smart kid - get everything you can, right?)
Me: Uh, okay.  Which one do you want to do first?
Sarah: Let's get the 'vernaculars' and go see the baby geese! (I love being her mommy!)

So if you are one of the millions that suffer each day from the pain and fatigue of fibromyalgia, don't worry, just keep moving.  And talk to your doctor.  I believe you.  It's definitely real - and it has causes and symptoms.  For more information, go to www.fmaware.org.

Monday, May 10, 2010

NKOTB or not to be?

I'm loving the extra blogging for Skirt! that I'm doing lately, but alas I have neglected this blog!  Right now I'm trying to cook up a way to go to a New Kids on the Block concert this year.  Now last year I totally indulged myself like never before, but I will also say that last year I had a really good time and came home very happy each time.  This year the closest shows are 12 hours away (gasp)! But, I really want to go.  We have a moral conundrum here.  Hubby still has no job but I still want to go.  What to do, what to do?  This is what's keeping me up tonight! 

Thursday, May 6, 2010

You must read this book...

Seriously.  I'm more than halfway through it and it has made me re-think the food I eat.  I'm on a streak of personal development lately!  :)

I was not aware of all the toxins that are in our food, and only subtly aware of the mistreatment animals endure while being raised in large factory farms for food.  Having grown up out in the country and regularly seeing cows carelessly grazing in large green pastures sort of made me see the meat I eat through rose-colored glasses.  I'm not saying that everyone should be vegetarian or even vegan, but reducing the amount of meat we eat would do a lot towards helping the global environmental crisis get a little bit better.  I had no idea that agriculture actually emits more greenhouse gases than the transportation industry!  There's a lot of methane in animal poop.  And there's a lot of fertilizers used in the foods we raise to feed all those animals with. 

I don't expect that a few of us can solve these problems, but what we all can and should do is make ourselves at least aware and educated about what the problems are.  Why leave this for our children to worry about?  Yesterday I ate no meat by sheer coincidence.  Today I ate no meat on purpose.  Tomorrow maybe I'll have a hamburger or maybe I won't.  But at least I'll know more than I did yesterday about what the issues are.

One step closer to seeing my name in lights!

I'm now a blogger for Skirt! - a national and local magazine (print and online).  So check me out - go to www.skirt.com/heatheraposey!  That will be "my other blog."  I'll try my best not to replicate content too much.  Yay me!  Can you tell I'm excited.  No extra money here, but definitely extra fun!

Sunday, May 2, 2010

Well, it's your hair!

Today I woke up with that undeniable urge to get half my hair whacked off.  You women out there know what I'm talking about: it's the I'll find whoever has some scissors and this god-awful hair will come off today.  You will drive to the nearest hair cut facility and you will find someone who can cut it off so that the dreaded blob of hair on your head will not look like you just dunk your head in a toilet everyday.  You're absolutely completely sick of it and should there be some apocalyptic reason why all the hair cut facilities are closed today, you'll take the darn kitchen scissors to it if you have to.  It's coming off.

So there I was, in Great Clips of all places, with that desperate look in my eye.  I know those women know that look.  That, I don't give a damn what you do, just cut it off, look.  This lady calls my name after only a few minutes of waiting and takes me back to her chair.  On the way I'm taking a mental note-to-self that her hair looks pretty awful.  It's not even close to being styled.  My stylist is African American, and I've seen some really awesome locks on my African American friends at work so I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she can do better than simply straightening her not-even-shoulder-length hair that's sticking out at approximately a 45 degree angle from her head.   Another mental note occurs to me: this is the site of the terrible, awful, no-good very bad haircut that I got just before moving to Maryland in Fall of 2008 and quite frankly, I'm never going to forget that.  I've had about 5 really bad haircuts since I was born and that was the 5th one. 

So I sit down in her chair and she's literally muttering something under her breath about not talking at work anymore and how she's got a new attitude which immediately leads me to believe that she got in trouble recently for something she said.  Great start.  She finally says hello to me and asks the inevitable question that always makes me cringe.  "What we gonna do with it today?"  

The last haircut I got from my dear friend and the one that can no doubt cut my hair better than anyone else in this world (but she's off on Sundays and I was having an emergency), but my last haircut must have been the result of a communication error on my part.  Normally I just let her have at it and make my head of hair her personally sculpted work of art for the day.  Last time she gave me what my work friends called a shag - but I (being a child of the 80's) felt it was a bit too close to an actual mullet so it bothered me this entire last month.  Plus, I was getting those side flaps of hair back over my ears that made my head look like it could become a propeller at any moment and take flight.  In my imagination I could hear small children saying from down below as I was lifting off, "look Mommy - that lady is flying with her hair!"

Alas, I digress.  I tell the lady to leave the top of my hair alone, cut it at the ear, and cut off the back leaving just enough over the collar for it to flip out a little.  She immediately begins to argue with me.  What? she says.  Mmm Mmm, I don't think that will be good.  Now she insults my judgement, or perhaps I'm being over-sensitive, but regardless she's telling me that what I've suggested and thought about for a year and a half (this was the haircut I was trying to get when I got the really bad haircut) isn't going to look good.  Now, if you know me, you know that I could mostly care less about what I look like.  I'm not that vein.  I don't wear make-up at all, don't pluck my eyebrows, never change my earrings, and if I spend more than 5 minutes on my hair - I'm having an unusually great day.   I tell her that is what I want and she proceeds to reply that she's going to cut it like she thinks it will look best.  She does, pushing down on my head and neck like I'm the bride of Gumby (hold your head down!), leaving the top alone as I've asked, getting rid of the propeller blades over my ear, but leaving the length on the back.  She paused and asked, "now doesn't that look good?"  She sees my reaction and incredulously asks, "you really want this cut shorter back here?"  "Yes I do," I tell her and she shakes her head and says, "well it's your hair!  It won't look very attractive, but I'll cut it like you want it."

When I get up from the chair I tell her that it's taken me a year and a half to get that haircut and only because of that fact do I tell her thank you and give her a paltry $2 tip.  So if any of you see me in the next few days and my hair looks really that bad, just smile and nod and know that at least I fought for what I wanted and won.  I believe there's value in that.