The truth will always come out


I think the Patriots have spoken loud and clear.


The wreckage was picked clean by college students


"losing" not "loosing"
~sigh~
Some of the best memes are ruined 
by grammatical and spelling errors.

Well, that just sucks monkey balls

Had my appointment this morning. I was all excited, the bleeding and draining had all but stopped, and I was absolutely sure I was going to be released to go on my merry way. But NO! Dr. Janet, in her tiny but capable hands, found a deeper pocket in my muscle. Samples were taken, and a decision was made. This is too big a project for a diminutive country doctor in a little rural office. So she's shipping me off to the big city of Amarillo for a surgical consult, and more than likely surgery.

Depending on how large the sac is and how deep the second pocket is, I may be able to get away with a local anesthetic and in office surgery. If not, it will be BSA Day Surgery and the full anesthetic treatment. I hate going under. I've got all the whackadoodle issues for which redheads are famous. We are more susceptible to pain (for some odd reason, we have more pain receptors) and are less susceptible to anesthesia. We require more of everything. And it sucks because it's almost as hard coming out of it and it was to put us under.

So yeah, September already sucks, here's a montage of puppies and babies to take our minds off of it.


Big Bad Wolfman


Bettie Page and Lon Chaney
Before anorexic models and photoshop,
there were real women. 

It's enough to make you cry

I hold no animosity to those who, because of true illness, injury or other unforeseen challenges, find themselves in need of help. No one plans on a debilitating accident, a serious illness, birth defects, etc. When it happens, you do the best you can, and sometimes that means filing for benefits. For most, it's a temporary state until they can get back on their feet. But for others, it's become a profitable way of life. It's this mentality, not the "I'd love to work, but can't" but the "I can work but shouldn't have to", that is crippling this country.


~shamelessly stolen from SconsinRick's facebook page.

See? Not so bad, is it?

After seeing this, I feel like a big old baby for sniveling. I really thought I had a 2-inch incision, gaping wound and miles of gauze packing. What I had was a scalpel-width puncture (granted it's deep) and about 8 inches of this little tape-looking shit.  I'm still oozing, but the bleeding is stopped, so I have that going for me. If y'all were planning my eulogies, better hold off for a while. Looks like I'm gonna pull through just fine.


Update


Went in to see Dr. Janet today to get the packing removed from the hole in my shoulder and see if I needed stitches. Apparently I'm not done yet. She took the dressing off, and pulled the shunt and packing out, releasing a torrent, not a trickle, not a stream, a fucking torrent of vital bodily fluids. It gushed out my shoulder and down my back soaking my shorts and panties before the nurse could catch it with towels. I'm feeling a little light-headed again and she starts in on squishing the holy shitsnacks out of it, releasing a new torrent. At this point, feeling the pain and slightly nauseous, I ask if it's time to put a bandaid on it and let me go. I know, ever the optimist. Laughing like the sadist she it, Dr. Janet informed me that I wasn't quite there yet, but I was definitely better. 

Instead of being released, the wound got repacked and covered in what I can only call a wound sanitary napkin that I have to replace daily. And I have to go back for more torture on Monday. But I still have the pain meds. Thank God in Heaven, I still have my pain meds.

Beyond magnificent

I'm a pearl girl. I care nothing for diamonds or other gems. 
Give me pearls and watch me glow. 
Now give me these, and watch me rape, pillage and plunder. 
Aye! Be Cap'n Ginger McStabby!
Now hand over yer booty and pray for ye lives!


I did that once


I wasn't cooking dinner. Who cooks dinner in a pressure cooker?
But I did blow one up with 3 jars of strawberry jam.
Kitchen looked like a Manson crime scene.

Ouch

I've had a free-floating bone chip in my shoulder for the last few years from a prior injury that wasn't competently handled at the time. A couple of times an abscess has formed around it, and me being a serious doctor weenie, I'd deal with it myself. Until now.

About 10 days ago, an abscess started forming in the same spot, back of my right shoulder, and just kept growing and growing. (Yeah, this is doing wonders for my legendary sex appeal). At about 4 inches across and so deep my arm started going numb, I broke and went in to see Dr. Janet today. After hitting me on the head with my medical chart, she sat me down and started poking it with a pin and squeezing. The pain was a 15 on a scale of 1 to 10. I started sweating, nausea, little black dots floating in my vision, and nothing was coming out. I ended up on the table  face down while she numbed the top skin, cut an incision and started vacuuming this thick, red yuck out of my shoulder. And eventually the bone shard was pulled out. I'm not sure, but I think I passed out a couple of times. She packed about 400 yards of gauze in the wound around a drain and bandaged it, gave me pain meds and sent me home.

I've been in and out all day, flying the friendly skies of hydrocodone. I've got to go back Friday to have it unpacked and stapled shut. So that's the story of my day. This week has been really weird, can't wait to see what tomorrow brings.

My grandmas rocked.

Grandma Evelyn taught me how to garden, can, and make jellies and breads. Grandma Doris taught me how to knit, crochet, quilt and sew. She also taught me how to make pastas and sausages. I've even got my great great uncle's still that he brought West when the family was run out of Tennessee.
And somewhere hidden away, I have his recipes. Yeah, we'll do just fine.


I'm titacularly honored


Yeah, I'm pretty proud of the girls. They've done some really amazing things. They've served as a safety net for most of my meals and snacks. When I was pregnant and they doubled, they served as a tray. After the cute chicks were born, they served as a 24/7 cafeteria. They've saved lives, brokered a Middle East peace deal, taken down despots and dictators, and just yesterday, they saved the stock markets from crashing. Well, maybe not those last few things, but the did manage to unhinge Kerodin, and that's pretty cool too.

I have to admit, I was a little butthurt this weekend when Bill Nye called me "the redheaded hoe" and nobody defended me. Not wirecutter, not any of y'all. But then I thought, maybe y'all don't think of yourselves as knights in rusty armor or you don't see me as a damsel in distress, a lady deserving of defense. Maybe it's both, maybe it's neither. I'm not any of y'all's damsel to defend. Wirecutter has his own lady in Miss Lisa, and she is his focus as it should be. Same for the rest of you. What I do know is I've take a lot harder hits, lower hits, from people I loved and respected, who meant more to me than Kerodin and Nye, and I survived. I've faced most of the attacks alone, no one backing me, no one defending me, and I survived. So this too shall pass. I've got my copper-topped head held high, I'm in my most gravity defying push-up bra, and I'm sailing onward. I've got my own back.

Monday, August 24, 2015

Kerodin was wrong

I showed other women's boobs for stats.
I only showed mine for pride and personal gratification.
But, all things considered,
I just can't out-boob Sam.

I must have been going to the wrong library


You know there is someone, somewhere,
who can end a story with,
"And that's why they burned my library card."

The Sweet Silence of Freedom

First day of school.

I'm sitting in the living room.
No television, music, kids, or spouse.
Silence.

No, "Mom!" "ma" "momma" "mommy" "mother".
Silence.

No, "Blah, blah, blah, Craigslist motorcycle tractor truck acreage, blah blah blah...."
Silence.

I'm sitting here in silence, a slow line of drool easing from the corner of my mouth.
Tears silently rolling down my cheeks.

First day of school. Freedom.

Saturday, August 22, 2015

Dirt therapy

The best place for me when I'm hurting, 
tired and the world is too much.


I need this in my house

I actually don't much care about the rest of the house. 
A good kitchen and a library are the primary needs.