It's Finally Here!

The hyperbaric chamber, that is. I have three big boxes in the garage, where the FedEx guy put them for me. I managed to move the smallest box to Hutton's room, where we going to set it up, since he sleeps in Harrison's room. I'll need Hubby's help to move the rest of them.

Of course, our power went out shortly afterward, and I have that, "Crap! What do I do now?" feeling. Not that I could have moved the boxes by myself anyway, but now I can't even make phone calls (there's a regular phone somewhere upstairs on Hubby's desk; the rest are digital and don't work when the power's out) but I'll just wait and catch up on my calls during Harrison's soccer practice in an hour. All the chores I have around the house need power. I just loaded the dishwasher this morning, and was going to start it after breakfast. Hmm. Maybe later. Laundry? Same deal. It really puts things in perspective. How much I depend on electricity in my life. (Sing School House Rock! Electricity song here). We have a generator we set up to run a few things when the power goes out in storms, but hopefully this is just a temporary thing. They're running power lines under the main road down the street from our house, so I hope that that's why the power went out, and it will be back up this evening. The reason the power lines are being buried? To prevent future storm-driven power outages, caused when the giant fir tree branches smack into the power lines. So, it seems the power is out to prevent the power from going out. Ironic, no?

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Last night, as I was preparing to go to soccer, I was using some apple cider vinegar to tone my face (yeah, I'm weird) and the smell of vinegar made me think of fish n' chips. Which caused me to say aloud, "Fish and chips won't do." And then I had to try to figure out what song that line was from. Do you know? Give up? It's from the Michael Thomas classic, "Fish and Chips." What do you mean, you don't know that song? Philip, better known as Tubbs, of Crockett and Tubbs from Miami Vice had a musical career, too, you know! Don Johnson's "Heartbeat" wasn't the only musical gold from Miami Vice actors! So, I had to google the song, and try to find it. Strangely enough, I couldn't find it on youtube, nor could I find the lyrics. I'm going to have to search through the mix tapes I kept from the eighties and nineties. My brother's friend taped the song for him, and I in turn taped it from my brother, because the song is one of the most unintentionally cheezy and funny songs you'll ever hear. A lyric I remember well: "Open up your kitchen, girl!/And feed me till I'm satisfied." No, Phillip ain't talking about eating fish and chips! He wants a main course, baby, and he's got his eye on you! Or something like that. I may have to pay money to download the song if I can find it. If I do, I'll post it for your listening pleasure!

I called my brother today to reminisce about the song. I love my brother. He's 4 1/2 years older than me, and taught me all I needed to know about sarcasm when I was a preteen. I love him even though he's a Republican. Wait, he claims to be a Libertarian. Yeah, we'll see who he votes for!

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I started this post this morning, then the battery power on my laptop died. Fortunately, by the time I returned this afternoon at 3, the power was on again. Better late than never!

Another Exciting Week! Snore

As you may have guessed, not much going on here. Which is good, I suppose! I just had my "yearly" exam, though it's been two years since my last checkup. Whoops! That's one reason I just switched doctors. Maybe going to a new doctor with fewer patients, instead of the busy OB/Gyn practice, will mean the office will actually want to see me every year! Everything looked fine, and I had some blood drawn to check out all that good stuff. I also get to schedule a screening mammogram now that I'm 35! Lucky me. It is supposed to take about three months to get an appointment, since it's only a screening, baseline mammogram. Hey, still better than most autism services wait lists! So, right now I have the form on my desk to remind me, with a lovely picture of breasts -- the nipples are like eyes, boring into me saying, "We're watching you! Pick up the phone and schedule it already!" That is, if either eyes or nipples could talk.


See? Can't you feel them staring at you? Stop staring, boobs!

This weekend the weather was nice (unlike today - raining) and we got some fall cleanup done. Saturday, Hubby mowed the lawn for the last time of the year and cleaned the gutters. The boys "helped" and Harrison got some gutter crud dumped on him. Note to boys: don't stand directly under Daddy's ladder when he's cleaning out the gutters. Sunday, I swept up all the gutter crud and Harrison helped me rake some leaves.

When I was in the garage getting the rakes, however, I smelled the second of two Horrendous Smells of the Day. The first occurred when I was sweeping off the back deck. Fergus, bless him, was sniffing around by the grill, and found the "drippings bucket" hanging under the grill that apparently hadn't been cleaned after it's last use. (That's one of the "not my job" things that Hubby is in charge of.) Fergus dumped the bucket on the deck, and by the time I discovered what he'd done, he'd eaten some of the nasty, nasty, nasty, nasty (did I mention nasty?) slop that had come out. Think rancid grease and fat. Yes, nasty. I took the nasty bucket inside to clean, and grabbed some paper towels to pick up the rest of the nasty fat, then dumped some hot water on the remaining slime on the deck. That was smell number one. I revisited it a few hours later when I was pooper-scooping the yard prior to raking, and found some piles of vomited up rancid grease and fat. Yeah, Fergus, that's why you shouldn't have eaten that. That's why it had that horrific smell. I guess dogs don't really see things that way, though.

Smell number two was similar to the first, and I thought it was more rancid fat vomit, thanks to Fergus. Nope. It was... Hey, what's that smelly thing in the pile of outdoor toys in the garage? It smells like something putrescent, oh hey, it's a dead rat! I moved the soccer ball and stomp rocket out to the driveway to hose down and grabbed the pooper scooper to dispose of the nasty, nasty, nasty, nasty-smelling carcass. How long had that been there? Why am I the only human with a sense of smell who notices these things? Where are these rats coming from, and can they please stay away? (That's why we have cats - vermin patrol. However, I would prefer they keep the vermin outside.) I hosed down the garage floor and now need to buy some more Nature's Miracle. I wonder if they have a "dead stuff/putrescence" formula, or if the cat pee version will do the trick.

This weekend the boys and I also went to see if there were any more salmon, but didn't see any. Last weekend we heard them, but didn't get to see them. You could just hear them splashing around upstream from our viewing spot.

I also worked on Halloween costumes for me and Hubby. The boys both decided yesterday they want to be Spiderman. Yes, both of them. Hubby and I discussed other Spiderman friends and foes to see if one of them wanted to be someone else, but right now, they both still want Spiderman. I'm not going to attempt to make two Spiderman (and typing that out, I always think of it pronounced like a surname -- Spidermun) costumes, so I'll have to try to buy those. Maybe one will be the black costumed Spiderman? They've been playing the Spiderman Xbox game, hence both wanting to be him. A few weeks ago, Harrison wanted to be EVE (from Wall-E) so I suppose Spiderman is a much-easier costume choice, provided I'm not attempting to sew it myself. (My sewing skills are very basic and do not involve spandex.) Plus there was the whole realization on Harrison's part that EVE was a girl, and I could see the first struggle about gender identity taking place in his four-year-old mind: "Maybe EVE can be a boy, too?" I was just beginning to figure out how to make an EVE costume (and assuming Hutton would be Wall-E, which would involve a cardboard box - not exactly easy-to-wear at parties) when Harrison changed his mind to the definitely male SpiderMAN. Hmm. So, I think Harrison and I will go costume shopping today when I pick him up from school.

After I make that mammogram appointment, that is!

Last Weekend

Last Saturday at this time, I was listening to John Elder Robison speak at Third Place Books. He was great, with funny and uplifting stories, and his fascinating talk about TMS (you'll have to read about that on his blog). I had him sign my hardcover I bought last year when it came out, and I bought two paperback copies for him to sign, as well.

Here's the proof:


On Sunday, the boys and I walked to the creek at the end of the street to see if the salmon were here yet. (The salmon come upstream to spawn every fall about this time.) There was only one, and he/she was hanging in the shadows, so I didn't get a good picture, but I did get lots of pictures of the boys being silly.

Please Ignore That Ad

The one about flu shots. Uggh! Well, it's gone now (for some reason, I get ads on one computer, but not my laptop.)

Speaking of flu shots, yesterday I went to Safeway [the closest grocery store to my house] and I had to avoid the line of people there getting flu shots in the pharamcy area, and hope they weren't giving flumist, as well, or Harrison and I were both exposed to it. As I was leaving, a sign on the door made me do a double-take. No, it really did say, "Get your flu shot today and get 10% off your next Safeway in-store grocery purchase!" Really. I wonder how much money Safeway gets from the drug companies for that little kickback?

Busy/Boring Week

Is that possible to be busy and bored simultaneously? Well, I guess I've been alternating between the two.

Hutton still has a lingering cough, but his faux chickenpox seems to have passed. I think it was some other kind of virus, but will see if Harrison comes down with anything in the coming days.

I have lots of knitting to complete -- a baby shower in a few weeks, another friend's baby is due soon -- and I'm not getting it done quickly enough. I also have a big book club book to finish for next week. So, you see my projects aren't exactly "exciting" are they? And I'm not doing either one right now. I'm sitting on the couch with one hefty cat on one thigh, my laptop on the other.

Harrison's school has changed the date of a field trip to a farm three times in the past four days, and I'm not going to drive as a result. No, I'm not just being a bitter bitch, trying to "show them." I rearranged my schedule last week in order for them to switch Harrison's preschool days around -- I switched my weekly riding lessons from Wednesday to Thursday, and switched Harrison's soccer class from Friday to Wednesday, and had been all set to drive/volunteer when they told me on Tuesday that the trip would be on a Tuesday (a free day for me and Harrison). Then, I found out yesterday that it will actually be on a Thursday (the morning of my riding lesson, which I missed last week due to Hutton's sickness, so I really don't want to miss another one!). I'm just annoyed because I would have liked to go, and if they don't have enough parents to drive, they'll have to cancel. Oh well!

Other than that, I'm trying not to yell at poor old Fergus when he pees on the floor, though I did not succeed in that Wednesday morning. (Cue flashback sequence). I came downstairs to get Hutton ready for school, and in the 20 seconds before I could get to the front door to let him out, Fergus peed. The cursing ensued, as I scrambled to get the pee cleaned up as it rushed across the floor to various rugs, and spilled down a step into the family room. I had about ten minutes to clean pee, get Harrison ready to go to the bus stop (he'd just come out in his pajamas), get Hutton to finish breakfast and take his gazillion capsules of various supplements, and I was not doing well. Into this mess steps Hubby. As he looked down at me, cursing the )(*&%(*&!)*&% dog and his !@(*&#%)(*&#% pee as I wiped up the mess with towels, he offered the following help: "Laura, you do not need to talk that way! If the boys say any of those words, I'm going to be very upset and disappointed!" He then steps out to go to work.

Deep breath. Harrison has wandered over, half dressed, and I tell him in my most sugary sweet voice, though my throat is closing up in anxiety, that he'll have to wait to eat breakfast until we get back from the bus stop, and then start singing the praises of my oh-so-helpful husband in heavy sarcasm. I tell no one in particular how great it was to return home from my soccer game the night before at 7:30, to have to take out the trash and recycling, fix dinner, clean up and put the boys to bed while Hubby was "busy" upstairs. I literally started to gasp for breath, though, so I had to stop talking and get Hutton hustled out the door to the bus.

Fortunately, Hubby seemed to understand that I wasn't coping well (hence the cursing banshee bitch routine) and after talking to me about how I had to learn to handle my anger without yelling on Wednesday night, he actually got the boys put to bed and fed the dogs the next morning. Thank God, because Wednesday morning the "D" word wasn't too far from my mind.

Speaking of which, I heard from both of my siblings that my mother is divorcing my stepfather after 20 years of marriage. I'll have a long, angsty blog post about that later when I get it together. Of course, I only know this from my siblings, because my mother hasn't mentioned it to me. Yeah, isn't that great?

I actually have a positive post about last weekend as well. I'll try to get that together, as well!