Eat Pie and Dance

We take 4^th of July seriously here in Our Nation’s Capital.

The Smithsonian holds the Folk Life Festival on the mall. Think FUN activities plus the possibility of heat stroke and the reality of porta potties. There are Military Bands, multiple concerts and fireworks. Metro is packed.

Since having children, we opted for the local community parade.

We’d go every year with our kids and our beloved friends, Miss Peg, Gary and their boys. The parade was perfect – Lawnmower Precision Drill Team, Scottish/Asian bagpipe marching band and the Trinidad Steel Drum Band float. One memorable year a float caught on fire.

We’d cheer for the Lesbian/Wicca Society and clap for the elderly overweight belly dancers. There was always some baton disaster.

Everyone always stands to applaud the Veterans of Foreign Wars, the Shriners and the guy who cleans up after the horses. The fire trucks throw parade bling - candy and plastic fire hats.

The parade starts at 9:15a sharp, so you could have a great time and still get the kids home for an afternoon nap. Bonus!

Peg and Gary are in Thailand now. Our kids are grown and have their own plans. Mr. W often works because of breaking news, so for the last few years 4^th of July has been lonesome.

This year new buddies invited us to a parade party. We had so much fun. We knew enough people not to feel awkward. It was great watching the little kids running around and seeing that silly parade again. I had apple pie and mimosa at 9:30am – alcohol and sugar breakfast buzz. Talk about needing an afternoon nap!

Strolling back, we ran into friends we hadn’t seen in years (when Mr. W and I both worked at CNN the Clinton/Lewinsky scandal, impeachment, wars and the sniper, meant never saw anyone from Before). Did we want to come back to their house for food and drinks?

It had been at least 15 minutes since we last ate and why sober up?

We ended up having a lovely afternoon, sitting in a beautiful garden, catching up with people we have missed. What an unexpected gift.

Once home we hit our respective couches after taking aspirin with huge glasses of water. Who knew we could still have this much fun?

Now with the food and alcohol coma finished, I’ve realized something. This summer has been a nonstop celebration of big events. I have occasionally felt like the pig squeezing through the belly of a snake. Ok – bad analogy but still…

WRONG ATTITUDE!!

Sometimes you just get lucky and have a lot of fun. Why was I feeling guilty? I could rationalize that this is a cosmic reward for all the sinus infection and surgery crap that made me so miserable. Which is bullshit.

In reality, it has nothing to do with me and everything to do with people I love. Monday starts a weeklong family reunion culminating with my Dad’s 80th birthday bash. I’m not going to waste a minute worrying about how much I’ve eaten or if I got everything done. I’m going to have FUN.

Then I will spend the rest of July and all of August at the gym.

Life update or brain dump?

Where to start? I better organize by category.

Party Nation
We hosted 70 family and friends, celebrating our Son’s graduation from high school and acceptance to North Carolina School of the Arts.

Mr. W’s band played. We ate pizza, salad and ice cream sandwiches. Kids ran around with squirt guns (front yard only!!) played with stilts and chalked graffiti on the sidewalk. Keeping to tradition, we set off bottle rockets once it got dark. It was FUN.

I kept hoping the police would come and tell us to behave, but no such luck.

Since the party, Mr. W and I celebrated our 24^th wedding anniversary. It was very romantic (<==that is sarcasm). I picked him up from metro Friday after work; we went to the local good place for dinner.

We had frozen margaritas with dinner and were asleep two hours later. Is it possible to have a fun overdose?

The same weekend I had a crowd of 10 over for Father’s Day. The following weekend I had to put on nice clothes and celebrate my fav Aunt & Uncles 50^th wedding anniversary.

Mid July is the party for my Father’s 80^th birthday. It’s a big catered affair and my brother and family are coming in from California.

After that is over, I swear, I am not going to eat ANYTHING for a month. I don’t think I’ll leave the house except to go to the gym. Having this much fun is hard work.

DC Metro
Neither my Daughter nor Mr. Wonderful were on the Metro when the accident happened, for which I am profoundly grateful. DC, MD and VA did not have coordinated, dedicated funding for the Metro system. It makes me crazy that people had to die horrible tragic unnecessary deaths to have the situation corrected.

Suddenly getting to work is hellish. Their commute, which was 35 minutes, is now 90 complete with Standing Room Only. My Daughter and Mr. W come home hours later, hot and miserable.

Medical Drama
My Son, fresh off the graduation party, had his deviated septum repaired and his adenoids yanked. He got to wear plastic splints stitched into his nose for 8 days. It was a really DISGUSTING doctor visit to have them removed. I’m currently calling him Mr. Nose, much to his chagrin.

He still wears out in about two minutes. The doctor told him he’d feel better next week, which is good because..

The Beach
My BFF of 43 (!) years has rented a place at the shore next week. Her husband can’t get away when they planned. Since I am a caring person, I have volunteered to go along with her for a few days. The kids (Mr. Nose should be fine by next week) have volunteered to come down for an overnight.

I can’t begin to convey how much I am looking forward to some mano o mano time with my BFF. She has a huge job and a Mom who suffers with poor health. I’m also pleased that my kids will have a road trip experience together. I’m packing wine, sun block and a trashy novel.

September Issue
AFI Silverdocs film festival just wrapped in our ‘hood. I caught the ‘September Issue’ documentary. It was a profile of Anna Wintour as she prepared the Vogue 2007 September Issue.

Sidebar: I loved “The Devil Wears Prada.” I come down firmly on the side of Meryl Streep.. Smart driven women are valuable and don’t have to pretend to be warm and fuzzy. The Anne Hathaway character was an immature twit.

Also - I readily confess that my entire wardrobe comes from Target and Kmart, with a side of Dress Barn (because its near my home and isn’t in a mall) for the higher end (ha) stuff like dresses and blazers. My shoes come from DSW and Payless. I wouldn’t be capable of accessorizing even if it meant the end of poverty and the beginning of world peace.

‘September Issue’ was fascinating. Vogue has a subscription base of 15 million and has been published continuously for 175 years. I had no idea that Wintour is such a powerhouse both in publishing and the fashion industry.

I love Vogue in the same way that I love science fiction – separate and apart from real life. I can’t wear the clothes or shoes, but I see art and craftsmanship when I look at the magazine. September Issue is worth the price of admission.

Party Nation

Wednesday night we had 8 people here for my Son’s high school graduation dinner. I went all out – fancy linens and the good china. Thursday was the actual graduation ceremony topped off with a family lunch. Saturday night should be a rave with 70 people and Mr. Wonderful’s band. The Graduate picked the menu: pizza + ice cream sandwiches (boys are so easy) for the masses.

Every celebration for this family includes food. It’s fun, but wondering if my stomach will survive through the end of the week. Plus, even though I like to cook, Wednesday was ridiculous. I need a minion.

GWAD – I hope it quits raining. It has been hosing down for days. We’re calling it the “Wear your Boots” party, as the backyard is spongy with mud. I bought a gallon of bug spray. I also mentally waved goodbye to the acres of off-white carpeting in this house. Historical note: it was here when we bought the place so it is Not My Fault. I see a carpet cleaner rental in my future.

Last year, same weekend, we celebrated our Daughter graduating from College. It was 98 degrees – so we dubbed it the “Heatstroke” party. Late that evening there was a huge thunderstorm. Everyone retreated to the garage with their lawn chairs and didn’t leave till the last beer was gone. I remember staggering off to bed thinking I was awfully old to stay up so late.

I hope this years shindig will be as much fun. We must be insane.

Mind your Manners

I love that my Daughter usually reports everything that happened to her and what she thinks about it. When she was little it was mostly Why I Bit (establish alpha status. It drove me nuts) or Who Spilled Milk at Lunch. Later it was school drama, boyfriends, college professors and dorm living. I am very lucky that she shares so much of her life with me. And quit biting.

I think of it as The Daily Report with Analysis. Always entertaining.

Now, when she walks in the door, The Daily Report w/ Analysis is usually subtitled What Happened At CNN. Historical Note: Mr. W & our Daughter work there, I used to work there.

Fact: Mr. W can’t even have a soda at work that she doesn’t report to me. It’s pretty funny.

Yesterday she came storming home steaming from her ears.

“So,” she said, pulling a popsicle from the freezer, “how was your day? Me first.” I sat down at the kitchen table to pay attention.

Her task had been ‘Guest Greeting.’ Translation: get the talking head at the security desk, shepard them through makeup, get them Miked and IFB’d (Mike is usually clipped to lapel. IFB goes into the ear so the correspondent, live producer or anchor talks into your head instead of having a face-to-face conversation.). Then she escorts into one of the studios for their airtime, known as a ‘hit’.

This particular day had been extremely busy with the Supreme Court announcement, North Korean nuclear test and California Prop 8 ruling. Plus Israelis and Palestinians were in town for White House meetings. Putting it mildly, there were a lot of Guest Talking Heads to get to air. My Daughter went to the Green Room (guest holding pen with comfortable chairs and a coffee machine) to collect Saeb Muhammad Salih Erakat for his hit.

He was drinking tea with his assistant and told her “he would go to the studio when he was done with his tea.”

“Well” she said to him “if you want to be on television you have to come now.” Another fact: television is scheduled.

Saeb Erakat remarked in Arabic to his assistant that “this pushy woman is trying to tell me what to do.” He then proceeded to make callous remarks about her anatomy and her “immodesty”. My girl had enough.

She told him IN ARABIC – “I studied Arabic at University and understand every word you and your assistant have spoken. You have lost your mind.”

Sitting in the kitchen, telling me, she still was uber-pissed.

“It was fun watching him crap himself. His assistant choked on his tea. I left them standing with their jaws hitting the floor. In that one moment, all the work I did to earn my degree more than paid for itself.”

Fact: In a television studio, people can hear you. Within seconds everyone in the newsroom knew what he has said to my Daughter. No one offered to help him, so Saeb Erakat had to mike and ifb himself and proceeded to look like a big ole tool on air. Just like he is in real life.

He did track my Daughter down after his hit to apologize. She was polite, but pointed out that he hadn’t been whispering and wouldn’t be apologizing if she didn’t speak Arabic.

She also told him, “That isn’t how women are treated in America.” He and his assistant couldn’t scamper away fast enough.

“He took one look at everyone watching in the newsroom didn’t even go back to makeup to get wiped. Good riddance.”

Hit time is hit time. Watch what you say. Being polite is always the better option.

College Admissions and Hickeys

On the way to the gym today I had a mental ‘feh’, turned around and came home. I did some work in the garden. While I was wrestling with deer netting, the phone rang.

Strange because 1)no one uses the hard line anymore except my Parents and 2)I wasn’t in the potty which is the only time that phone ever rings. I dropped the netting and sprinted into the house.

It was the North Carolina School of the Arts asking if my Son was still interested in attending (he’d been wait-listed). Huge Yes. I called Mr. W and we hooted. Then we worried about the expense.

It took two voice messages to scare my Son into calling me back. Since he was almost home, I hopped into the car and ran him down. Seeing me jump out of the car had him in worry-face.

“Holy Crap,” I said to him, “are those hickeys.” Cue stammering, denial and red-faced embarrassment.

“I am going to torture you for YEARS. We get to have the sex talk again. But meanwhile – you got into NCSA!”

We made enough noise to disturb traffic driving by on the busy street.

Or maybe they just noticed my ‘Innocent Bystander’ T shirt.

And just like that, everything changes. He called his Dad to share. I got on the phone and said from now till they fade, we would be calling our Son Mr. Hickey.

Everyone wins. Especially me, the next time I see the girlfriend. Hee.

Beware of the Bird

Party season is proceeding smoothly in Empresspatti land. Each day I scurry, armed with a list, to Get Things Done.

I feel great – the sinus surgery is 8 weeks past and I’m healed. I finally have my stamina back. I can breathe through my nose, which is a revelation. The 140 days of antibiotic before surgery, which made me feel awful, is also a distant memory.

Being healthy is fun.

The world-class horrendo haircut I got the day before my surgery is finally grown out. Jeeze Louise, no one noticed the post surgical tampon type wedges packed into my nose because they were thinking, “did she cut her hair with a lawnmower?”

My Daughter introduced me to the home spa treatment known to legions of middle-aged women as ‘waxing the upper lip.’ You might have heard the scream mid-day. I think she was really trying to remove my upper lip.

I’m housebound till the swelling and redness go away. No point in scaring people in public. Because I was hiding at home with an ice pack, I was available when my BFF called. She has a high-pressure job and a Mom with dementia, so moments to laugh on the phone are rare. Our friendship had made me happy for 43 years, so it’s worth the wait till she has time to chat.

My Son went off to Prom looking pretty enough to knock girls off their sling backs. His date was adorable. Looking at him, all dressed up in his new suit, I thought to myself ‘those teeth really were worth $6,500 of braces + $1,500 of wisdom teeth extraction.

Who knew anything that started that small and cute could be so expensive? I got good value for my investment.

Mentioning this observation to my husband was a mistake. “You are always so mushy,” Mr. W told me. “You ooze sentiment. Try and contain yourself.”

Getting sniffy is not the way I roll. But I digress from my digressions.

Our front yard is currently dominated by a Catbird who objects to me. Sitting on the porch with coffee or getting the mail is risky and triggers repeated dive bombings. This bird sits in the tree and waits for me to show. She lets loose with a big squak every time she sees me. It’s embarrassing to have something that small boss me around so much.

My entire garden is covered with deer netting (further proof I am insane). We have a herd of 10 that check every night for any goodies that might have poked out of the netting. It is unreal. Why doesn’t the Catbird object to them?

Nature has it in for me.

There is no such thing as a bad nap

My dear Miss Peg just called to say that she was safely returned to Thailand after a 28-hour commute. We had a good visit even though she was in country for a funeral. She had to crank her metabolism through a 12-hour time difference immediately. Her life is such fun sometimes.

Luckily, we managed to bore her into sleep at night. Plus - We flopped down on the couches every day at 3p like it was our religion.

I always think of 3p as horizontal time. I need a 20-minute brain rezoning. Then I’m good to go again. In my former life, I used to yawn loudly during afternoon meetings. Truly, any time can be nap time.

As a personal gift from the Gods to Miss Peg, every day here was cool with a side of hosing rain. Miss Peg wore sweatpants and sweatshirts, wool socks and a fleece jacket. She covered up with a light blanket. I sat around in jeans and a short sleeve t-shirt. Mocking her kept me warm.

In Thailand, Miss Peg reported tonight, it was 94 degrees at midnight. I’m going to hate the heat when I visit.

My Daughter and I are planning to go to Thailand in October. I will be the hot, fat, sweaty farong who towers over everyone else on the sidewalk. The two of us couldn’t be more excited. Miss Peg promises me a bout of food poisoning to augment my weight loss ambitions.

My favorite fantasy is to win the lottery and take off around the world immediately. I love the feeling of being someplace I’ve never been, hearing a language I don’t understand. I like the lost, fuddled feeling of travel. I think its because I’ve lived in the same place all my life.
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Today I took inventory of What I Have To Do This Summer. So far: Son’s 18^th birthday (paintball and pizza), then his high school graduation (company & event cooking) and then the graduation PAR-Tay. He asked his Dad’s band to play. Mr. W is over the moon with the compliment. I’m planning on ordering pizza for 50. I can’t cook hamburgers + everything else for that many people anymore because I’m old. The end.

Also - Mr. W and I have our 24^th wedding anniversary. My Dad turns 80, complete with party, to which my Mom says: you do it. All this celebrating is compressed into the weeks between Memorial Day and early July. Who knew I was such a party animal?

Notes

It has been 45 minutes since dinner, so now my Son is back in the kitchen having a bowl of cereal. At 6’ tall and 145 lbs – he is starving All.The.Time. I used to feel sorry for him. Now I’m resentful. Will I still be fretting about my weight when I’m 90?

Le sigh.

It’s been a good week for notes on the kitchen table. My Son left me a note yesterday – “Out setting things on fire. Home for dinner.” Smartass.

I got home today to a huge note saying – “DO NOT OPEN THE FRONT DOOR.

I called my Daughter’s cell. “What’s the up?"

“Mom, I trapped a bee the size of a sharpie marker between the door and the screen. It was a cage match, me in my bathrobe flapping around the house, trying to get away from beezilla. Whatever you do, don’t let it back in the house.”

It was a bumblebee at least 4 inches long, really pissed. I flung open the screen door and ran for my life. That sucker chased me around the yard. I was shrieking and flapping my arms when it flew off over the treetops. It was prolly chasing the hawk.

The all time great note went to Mr. W.

Years ago, he found a note on the kitchen table saying, “get them” with an arrow pointing at two plastic hand grenades. The minute he picked them up our Son, then 8, popped out of the slot between the fridge and the wall where we keep the broom. Apparently it was a pitched battle, brawling around the house. Mr. W still has the note – a treasure.

Tomorrow I retrieve my beloved Miss Peg from the airport. She will be a mess, 27 hour plane ride from Thailand, a funeral in St. Louis and then onward to me in DC. I have a whole lot of NOTHING planned for us. I think she’ll be glad to have a quiet space, cooler temps, sushi with a side of movies.

Note to self: I am a very lucky person.

Karl Rove, Corvettes and enjoying Bad Manners

I was RUDE. You've been warned.

This Friday was the Best Day in a long time. I had a great workout, then took metro to Union Station, meeting a CNN buddy for lunch. We haven’t seen each other since I had sinus surgery and her Mom had a stroke. We had a lot to talk about. Mostly we just laughed, which sounds callous, but if you can’t be deadpan and cynical in the face of awful, what is life anyway?

SO I hugged her good-bye and was zooming past the Amtrak towards metro when my phone rang. Digging into my purse I collided with someone hard enough that we both bounced back and looked at each other.

There stood Karl Rove (Chief of Staff - Bush White House/GOP Commentator). “Damn,” I said, “No escort? How the mighty have fallen. And me without a beverage to throw at you.” I continued to grin toothily as he very carefully backed up and walked around me.

Yup, very rude. So much fun.

Next stop was meeting my daughter for a movie (State of Play – real good. Esp for two political junkie newshounds).

I was sitting on a bench outside the movie theatre, waiting for my Daughter, enjoying the sunshine and people watching. What to my wondering eyes does appear but a full bore mid-life crisis, driving a metallic, lime green convertible corvette, complete with extra farty muffler. All he needed was his radio blasting Cher singing ‘If I Could Turn Back Time.’

For all his posturing and trolling, there wasn’t anyone in his demographic to impress. It was mostly a very racially diverse crowd of teenagers, senior citizens and Moms with little kids. Daytime people, not at work.

I watched him make a three point turn and come back for more cruising. He ruffled his muffler at my Daughter (a knockout, even if I wasn't her Mom) who was walking down the street towards me. He made no impression, as she was passing a window display of spring shoes.

Then he passed me. “Don’t worry.” I called out, “You don’t look ridiculous at ALL.” I’m sure it earned me bad karma, but seeing him roar in a thunder of farting muffler sounds was really funny.

My Girl and I had a great time. I bought two pairs of summer shoes, which made her wonder Where Her Real Mother Was. She got a cute sweater on super sale. We both got big, dark, movie star sunglasses. Mr. Wonderful met us for dinner. I recounted my big day of bad manners.

“You’ve never looked so good.” I told him. “I like a man who relies on intelligence and humor to impress people, rather than a tin can with wheels.”

“You’re just sucking up because I caught you using my toothbrush.”

“Again,” I told him, “I’m so sorry. I can’t even brush my teeth anymore before coffee.”

Just want your extra time and your........

I have told my kids a million bazillion times to “Act your age, not your shoe size.”

Today, driving down the road with the radio blasting, they realized that I have been quoting a lyric from a Prince song (Kiss). It was a really funny moment. People in other lanes must have thought we were insane – what with the car dancing and then the hilarity.

“Well,” I told them, after we calmed down, “my other best advice is from the top of a mayonnaise jar. I’ve said it just as often.”

I made them wait for a few beats and told them, “Keep cool but don’t freeze.”

Best relationship advice ever. Sometimes life really is that simple.

Show of hands, how many people reading this would benefit from a 5 second verbal pause/delay button? I personally need 20 seconds, because I’m not that smart.
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I’m still able to make the telephone and cell phone ring – often simultaneously – by going to the bathroom. This week, every time I answered the phone, it has been another heartbreaking drama. Mommas have died, had strokes or slipped further into dementia. Relationships have floundered and college acceptances hang in limbo. Some of my closest friends are so sad.

I hurt for them AND get nervous every time I have to pee.

“I can’t say anything that makes anyone feel better,” I told Mr. Wonderful.

“I think the point is that they just want you to listen.” We were lying in bed with the light off, which is the only way we can talk at home without some darn kid minding our bizness.

So here it is: I think everyone should use their very best manners all the time. Life can be short, brutal and hard. Sometimes the only useful thing a person can do is to be kind.

I have to remember that my problems 1) aren’t that special and 2) are non-existent compared to the suffering around me.

Shutting up now so I can hear what other people need to say.

I'm all about the attitude. You've been warned.

Warning!! This is a RANT

I like to think of myself as a kind and compassionate person. Right now, I’m telling the whole world to suck it up, get a grip and LIGHTEN UP. Everyone around me is all emo.

Jeesze Louise, I must have said (or thought) 100 times today – are you homeless or fatally ill? No?? Then SNAP OUT OF IT. Take your head out of your butt and help someone else for a change.

I’m all out of sympathy for pointless, indulgent anxiety or any manifestation of cranium-rectum disease. Look around at the rest of the world and realize that you have it good. Then be grateful for your blessings.

Whew!! I feel better.

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The manager of my local grocery store is an Egyptian immigrant. My Daughter minored in Arabic in college. When they see each other they converse in Arabic, to their mutual delight. When my Son comes to the grocery store with me (the only way he can get snackfoodcrap) he always says hello to Mr. Manager and shakes his hand.

This had earned me the Mother of the Decade accolade from Mr. Manager. Today he insisted on carrying all my groceries to the car for me and stood chatting with me for about half an hour. He is a truly lovely person who is devoted to his family. Note to self: bathroom before grocery store. By the time I managed to get away I was doing advanced pee-pee dance and drove home breaking every traffic law on the books. Syheesh.

In my hood the cherry and pear trees are blooming. Everywhere I look, there are blocks of fluffy pink or white trees. Up next – Redbud, Dogwood and azaleas. I love this time of year.

It is year three for my garden. My Mother in Law told me that it goes: sleep, creep and then leap. I’m excited to see all my hard work and plantings LEAP into some semblance of my expectations.

I figure I have about 15 minutes before the deer eat everything. Right now several bushes in my front yard are covered (think hairnets) because the deer were eating them to the ground. I have to put a plastic bag over the birdfeeder every night or the herd of 10 eat all the seed. Paintballs don’t discourage them for long. There is never a good predator when you need one.

At least I didn’t talk about my nose.

Happy Happy Joy Joy Hopefully the end of nose drama....

Hopefully, this is the last time I have to talk about my nose!

Just back from my post op surgical visit. Ears, nose and throat are healing well. I can breathe, swallow and talk. I should have done this years ago. It was Completely Worth the Surgical Misery.

NO MORE ANTIBIOTIC!! Whoo Hoo! I feel bionic.

Solid food – how I have missed you. I was sick of yogurt and mashed bananas with a side of water. I couldn’t swallow easily because of the surprise removal of polyps on my uvula and throat. I lost 8 lbs.

The trick is to keep them off – but I also feel good enough to work out on a regular basis again, something I haven’t been able to do since last November.

I can resume my regular daily sked (gym, grocery store, errands for everybody, laundry, housework, garden, dinner. Lather, rinse, repeat). Ok – not very exciting, but I enjoy it. Add in family and friends and it = happiness to me.

Thank you - lj buddies - for writing to me during my recovery. The painkillers made me stoopid and sad (I would be a terrible drug addict, maudlin instead of edgy or cool) and it was comforting to read concerned well wishes. You are an amazingly kind community.

All you out there who have been considering sinus surgery and putting it off – GO!! You won’t believe how good you feel on the other side.

I'm off to eat (no calorie) pie and dance!

UPDATE

Here is the update on my recovery.

Most important – all the pathology came back benign. BulYah!!

Ears –

The tubes in my eardrums hurt, which is normal and should abate in a few days. There is no bleeding so I’m calling it a win.

Sinus –

Most the swelling from acute sinus infection and the surgery is gone. I don’t have visible bruising or teary eyes anymore, (eye irritation was first a result of pressure from infection and then the packing). The skin on my cheekbones is almost recovered to the reaction from the surgical tape. I am really happy NOT to look like a freak show.

Throat-

This continues to make me uber miserable. I had a polyp removed from my uvula and an additional, larger polyp removed behind the uvula, which was blocking the area where sinus drains into the throat. Now my sinus drains naturally, which is good, but it drains in the area that has had two incisions, lots o swelling and the scraping of the breathing tube down the throat during surgery.

This keeps me diligent about pain med, bendy straw and water. It hurts like a fury to talk. A burp or hiccup makes me miserable.

The doctor warned me that week two would be all about the throat. Wow!

Hurting wears me out so everything else gets to wait. Rest and quiet is all I need to do.

I chill on the bed, head propped to alleviate swelling, keeping the humidifier going. Pain med makes it hard to read books, so I am dvd girl. I’m sure a few more quiet days like these will go a long way to facilitate healing.

Thank you for all your kind encouragement. I am very lucky to have such people in my life.

Its all about the nose here....

Hey Everyone!

I just wanted you all to know that I got the packing out of my face yesterday, which was exactly as painful and disgusting as it sounds. Because I am all about the drama, I fainted in the dr office right after hugewedge # 2 got yanked out of my sinus.

Cue lots of nurses tripping over my size 11 feet while trying to find the ice pack in the back corner of the cabinet.

Luckily I was sitting in an exam chair, so I didn’t hit the ground, or worse, the tiny doctor, who I would have squished like a bug. I came to because a nurse slapped an ice pack on my face, which hurt like the bejeezus. Syseech!

My nose feels so much better and I look mostly normal now. I have really red cheekbones because my skin did not like the tape, but I have greased up with exzema meds and should look better soon.

My throat is pretty much on fire. I take my pain meds on schedule and drink water non stop from the bendy straw. Who knew I could go so long without talking? I’m surprised I haven’t exploded.

I slept really well last night for the first time since forever which makes me feel much better. It is going to be an exciting day – shower, change of sheets and maybe a movie on the downstairs tv!! Whoo hoo.

Thanks very much for all your comments and concern. It really makes my day!

Nasal Warfare Day Two

Day two of nasal warfare has gone as well as can be expected. I got to take a shower and eat yogurt with mashed banana. Whoo hoo!

I have gauze pad taped under my nose to (eewww) catch blood drips caused by the wadding packed into my face. I have a cold pack draped on my face to help with the swelling. I reek of charm.

I have great drugs. I don’t think I have been awake for two hours straight. My Lutheran sleep response to stress has kicked in big time. Plus the drugs….

My Mom will stay with me tomorrow. I’m sending Mr. Wonderful to work. He has all kinds of conference calls and crap happening. If he stayed home I think the caged pacing and teeth grinding would hinder my recovery. He will take me to the surgeon Thursday, which should be super fun, what with taking packing and stitches out of my nose & throat.

I’m pretty good with email but not really able to talk yet. Apparently the throat is the longest recovery – I should be more able to converse next week, but for now it really hurts to talk.

Thanks for all the good wishes and concern. It is tremendously comforting and makes me feel less isolated in the house. You guys are the best.

Nasal Warfare Update

I'm too whipped to write anything myself - this is a cut/paste of an emal Mr W sent out....

The battle for control of Patti's sinuses has been waged and she has emerged victorious though not without earning herself a spot in the Order of the Purple Nose in the process.

Surgery was successful. All aspects completed without any problems. Patti is now resting at home in her favorite PJ's with a weird facial ice pack and a rather enlarged schnoggin. The swelling is far less than I had been prepared for, though she does have a lot of discomfort in the ears, nose and throat.

We have a follow-up visit with the surgeon Thursday.

Thanks for all support and a big shout out the the Iron Maidens from one of your own, she's hanging in there.

Tom (or as Patti currently calls me, Tagh).

It isn't about what's under the kitchen sink

Confession.

I am by nature a tidy, clutter free person. Right now my house is serial killer clean. The laundry is done. The taxes are done. I’ve taken care of all the IRA stuff and paid the bills for the month. We were out of SOS scrub pads so I made a special trip to the store.

It wasn’t until I was cleaning the cabinet under the kitchen sink when it occurred to me that I was nervous about my surgery. So I stomped through a puddle in the driveway, left muddy prints on my pristine floor and LEFT THE HOUSE.

Sheesyh.

I did have One Final Moment. Mr. W was sound asleep when I poked him.

“Promise me that you’ll cremate me and stash me in a Chock Full O Nuts can. Then wing me in the nearest dumpster.”

“I promise,” he told me. This is something I really am serious about. If he spends any money on my funeral I will haunt him, not in the fun way, forever.

“I would want you to get married again.”

This made him sigh loudly and roll over to face me. “Have you picked out the person?”

“Cindy Carpolochi,” I told him. Mr. Wonderful worked with her maybe 18 years ago. “She was really smart, and she wanted to have a husband and family. She’d be good to you. You only have to wait six weeks.”

Mr. W pulled my pillow out from under my head, laid it gently over my face and said “ok”. We both promptly fell asleep.

I was dropping him off at metro, cranky, per usual early morning when he told me “Six weeks would be May.”

I feel so much better,

Snow and Nose
Well, it snowed a freakin boatload here yesterday and last night. This delighted everyone. I am fine with not being able to go to the gym, with bonus lying on the couch, nose in book. My Son is always up for missing a day at school.

My Daughter scampered to CNN with glee because the more senior members of the newsroom have kids and therefore are at home coping with school closings. This leaves her free to do jobs way above her pay grade. She is pretty high on work anyway - last week Stevie Wonder was in the bureau and he played and sang on set - so she was one of 10 people serenaded. I was *dying* of evny. Stevie Wonder is the music of my youth.

Mr. W likes snow and was uber cheerful, shoveling the driveway. He brought me coffee and the newspaper in bed. Talk about a sexy guy….

Snow days always feel like time off from real life.

++++++

In News of my Nose - My sinus surgery is sked for Monday March 9^th. I’ve done the rounds of doctors, met the surgeon and surgical nurses. Both of my arms are covered with bruises from various blood drawls. I’m ready to get this done – both physically and mentally. I’ll be so much healthier on the other side.

It never fails though – that everything important always happens on the same day. My Son won first place in a county wide ‘dangers of underage drinking’ PSA. He’s thrilled – mostly because of the $1,000 prize. Naturally, the awards ceremony is the same day and time as my surgery. Le sigh. I’ll take myself to surgery; Mr. W will come after the proper amount of applause for our Son. It’ll be a long day – the surgery is supposed to take several hours and then I have recovery – another few hours.

I’ll look very attractive with my face packed with wadding the first week. I should have black eyes and a drain in my nose. Whoo hoo!! Still, once I recover, I can finally come off antibiotics and be able to breathe. Plus – I should be several pounds lighter as I won’t be eating solid food for a few weeks. Bonus!!

See y’all on the other side!

Feather, not Dot
The four of us were eating dinner.

I told Mr. Wonderful “Your Indian Name would be He Who Scratches.”

“Oh Phleeze”, he scoffed, “Yours would be Snores Like Thunder. Or maybe Kills by Farting.”

That made me huffy. “I’ve been on antibiotic forever. It upsets my stomach. My name should be She Who Eats Beano to Protect Her Family.”

Remember when Mom made us call her “Your Serene Highness?” my Daughter asked.

“Oh yeah” said my Son. “What was that about?”

“I got sick of hearing Mooommmm all the time. Then you called me Serene Highness at work one day and the entire bureau called me that for a year.”

“It was funny to hear on the overhead” Mr. W said. “Your Serene Highness, please come to the newsroom.”

We all laughed.

“You wanted to be Fair Rose when you were four,” I told my Daughter. “ I’d stand on the porch and yell ‘Fair Rose, come in for dinner’ or ‘Fair Rose, don’t you dare bite your brother’ for an entire summer.”

My Son wanted to know what his Indian name was.

“Outside the family it would be Girls Slobber Over,” I told him. “But around here it’s He Who Eats Nonstop or maybe, He Who Bangs Drums.”

“What girls?” asked Mr. W.

“Jeeze Louise” I told him. “You were sitting on the couch Saturday when a whole herd of them walked past. You really are Oblivion Man.”

Because it never gets boring talking about my nose
Boy Howdie – did the CAT scan of my sinus turn up issues. I’ve had consults with my Allergist, General Practitioner and Ear/Nose/Throat specialist. Kaiser is my home away from home.

Consensus is that after 80 days of antibiotics I am out of medicinal options.

I have to have extensive endoscopic sinus surgery. The ENT also feels that I have to have a polyp (who knew??) removed from my uvula (No- not something in the southern region - it's the dangly thing at the back of your throat) which concerns Dr. ENT as much as the fact that huge doses of antibiotic haven’t cleared up my sinus infection. Finally, I get another set of more permanent tubes put in my ears.

“Think of it as a trificta of misery. You’ll get lots of good drugs,” Dr ENT said. “By the way – it looks as if your right maxillary sinus never developed properly, so surgery will help, but not resolve the problem. Plus, you’ll still have allergies. You have to limit your expectations.”

I was not a happy camper. “I don’t even have a smart ass remark. I have to go home and snivel.”

I had a pity party in the car on the way home. Then Lutheran Sleep Response kicked in. At the first sign of a major stressor I go for unconscious because that’s the way I roll. I’ve been conked out for 10 hours every night.

Details of the surgery are enchanting. After roto-routering my face, they will pack my sinuses with wadding and have a tube with a “sling” under my nose for drainage.

Doesn’t that picture sound like next year’s Christmas card?

Stuff up my nose lasts at least 4 days, during which I’m supposed to have “help” which means either an at-home nurse or more realistically, Mr. W. Since both ears have been operated on I might not have much balance for a few days. Whoo baby, what a second honeymoon. Can’t you just imagine what a bitch I will be?

Once the wadding comes out I get to use some bulb syringe thingy loaded with salt water and “wash” my sinuses every few hours. Recovery is 6 to 8 weeks. I have to take antibiotic for at least 60 more days. I’ve decided that I am not even going to think about my immune system.

Surgery should be within 3 to 6 weeks – they want me even more chock full of antibiotic before they start tunneling.

I’ve been casting about for the funny – face packed with wadding only sounds amusing if it was happening to someone else. It took a while but I finally found the upside….

I’m thinking it is a great weight loss opportunity. Bul YAH!!

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