June 27, 2008

#27 of 30

Filed under: 30/100/30 — Tags: , , — denise @ 8:50 pm

Ok, guess what I did today?


Yes, really.

It wasn’t called a “Wiccan garage sale”.  It had signs that said, “GARAGE SALE! ARTS AND CRAFTS!” with lots of arrows and stuff.  And I’m all about arts and crafts, baby.

But when I went in the garage, it was all spells and bundles and labyrinths and things you burn and things you put on your alter and things you bury.  I was FULLY INTERESTED and yet also, FULLY NOT SURE WHAT EVERYTHING WAS.  I wandered around and acted like I totally knew what everything was and in the end bought some earrings, a “releasing bad energy” packet that has sage and orange peel and other stuff in it, as well as a totally bitchin’ espresso maker for $8 that has a Williams Sonoma price tag on it that made me very happy.

There were these “Intention bundles” that were made of wheat and eucalyptus and bundles of something.  You were supposed to write your intention on the attached card and “release it to the universe” by burning it, burying it, throwing it in water, etc…  but I felt like that was too much pressure.  I mean, how do you take something like that back if you change your mind?  I change my mind a lot.

I bought a Wish Crane instead. You whisper your wish in it’s origami ear…. and nowhere on the little card does it say that I can’t wish a bunch of times. And change my mind.  So, if the crane is a little soggy from my whispery slobber … universe, forgive….

I have an awful lot of wishes for a 50 cent paper crane.

June 25, 2008

#26 of 30

Filed under: 30/100/30 — Tags: , , — denise @ 4:26 pm

This morning, I looked out the window and flinched.

Mormons!  Or else a bunch of dudes in white short-sleeved button-up shirts with matching haircuts.

“Turn off the lights!  Turn down the TV!”, I yelled to my Mom.

“Honey, it’s 8am.”, she tells me… soothingly.

“Right. Ok.”, I say. Warily.

Later in the day,  Steph texts me, “HELP! I AM BEING ATTACKED BY MORMONS!”

She was at ToysRUs. They tried to save her soul by giving her URLs. She restrained her desire to pat them on their heads and tsk-tsk at them.

A little bit later, another text.


I text back to her, “Dude. It must be Mormon day. I saw them too.”

She replies, “They must have shipped a fresh batch in. Don’t they have to go somewhere else?”

I say (because I actually grew up with many Mormon friends, and my sister was briefly Mormon. Yes, really.)  “Yes, I think they usually have to travel for their mission.”

I still have the lights off in the house, but Law and Order is on the TV because Mom loves to watch it… and if they come to my door, you know what they are getting?


That should make ’em scatter.

Post Op Real & Imagined

Filed under: Deranged Denise — Tags: — denise @ 4:03 pm

Kory says this morning, “Hey, I can tell you exactly how your post-op appointment is going to go today.”

And because who isn’t into some role-play at 7:30 in the morning, I was totally on board.  “Ok!” I said, “I’ll be me and you be Dr. S.”  Dr. S is a tiny Asian man, so Kory sort of hunched over and jogged over to me.

“Hi Denise!”

“Hi Dr. S.”

I put my hand out to shake and Kory is momentarily thrown out of character.  Then we shake.

Kory lifts my shirt and pokes my belly and says, “Looks good! See you later!” and runs out of the room.

This is what actually happened:

First of all, the nurse took my blood pressure on my LOWER ARM which no one has like EVER DONE IN THE HISTORY OF MY EVER… and I was extremely excited about this, because getting my blood pressure taken always is sort of painful, especially when they use the machines that seem intent on just seeing if 3 limbs is probably all I need to get through life.  When I woke up from my surgery, my right bicep looked like it had been used to tenderize a leg of lamb.  It was bruised terribly.  Pam, the Helpful and Thoughtful Nurse informed me that during my surgery the machine would have checked my blood pressure every 15 minutes.  FOR 2 1/2 HOURS.  So, mystery solved on that one.

The door then flung open and Dr. S took 2 steps into the room and then stopped and knocked. Which totally made me wish I’d somehow misunderstood the nurse when the told me to just sit in the chair and instead had removed all my clothes and stood in the middle of the room, causing all of us to scream hysterically and hide our faces when he walked in without knocking…  alas, I was just sitting… clothed.

He had a young female intern with him. She looked very serious and competent, though she had the wobbly, boneless handshake that makes my skin crawl.

He lifted my shirt and poked my belly and said, “Looks great!” and was about to run from the room when I created what is referred to actual conversation.

I was all “Doc, I think maybe I broke my soccer net.”

And he was all, “No. It’s just swollen.”

And I was all, “I can not tell a lie. I’ve been picking up The Baby. Also, I carried in a Kohls bag from the car.”

And he was all, “It’s supposed to be swollen. It will be like that.”

And I was all, “Are you sure I didn’t break it?”

And he was all, “It could be that swollen for up to 3 months! You should wear your girdle!”

And I was all, “You mean the 9 yards of white, itchy rubberband fabric that makes me sweat like JUST LOOKING AT IT  much less putting it on and by the way, did you know it’s 92 degrees outside?”

And he smiled and said, “Well, you really only need to use it for 4-6 weeks.”

And I looked at the intern and said, “How about not?”

And he was all, “At least when you are doing things that are strenuous.”

And I was all, “Like the 30 times a day I pick up a 28 pound baby?  Like that?”

And he was all, “You are doing just great.”

And then I licked him all over his face.

Ok, not that.  It would have scared the intern.

I can just see her shrieking and him going, “Dammit, Intern Girl! This is a teaching hospital!”

And without Dr. Pratt there to talk her through it, who knows what it would have done to her psyche.

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