MOB #3

Within the last 9 months, my daughter and two nieces whom I adore, got married. My daughter was bride #1, which made me MOB #1 in my family of four sisters. MOB #2 was my younger sister in Dallas/Fort Worth. MOB #3 is my older sister who lives in Minneapolis. It has been an exciting year for marriages in my family.

This past weekend I went to Minneapolis to check out my sister's MOB outfit for her daughter's July weekend. She had sent me a photo as well as described it to me. It sounded, well, ummm, stately?

When I saw the melon color pearl accented suit I was impressed. It would be an appropriate suit to wear to a 50th wedding anniversary or a retirement party. But for a hip, young, single, vibrant MOB? Nope. Not enough bling!! The suit would be better if my sister was the Grandmother of the bride, not the actual MOB!

But I held my tongue. Who am I to say what people should wear? I told my sister, "That's a lovely suit." But inside I was thinking... too conservative. Too boring. Too matronly!

She asked me to go to the mall the next day to find MOB shoes. Gulp. To go with that suit?? May as well get white wedged nurses's shoes to complete that look! But I was here to support my sister's choice. So off we go to the mall.

Right away I found a pair of sexy, side cut out, off white almost pearlish color high spiky heels with a puff on the bridge of the shoe. My sister liked them but thought the heel was too high. I found another pair with a lower, thicker heel but still pretty rad. She didn't like them.

She grabbed a pair of basic strappy sandals. I say "You could wear those to work." She replied, "Yah I know! That's great."

I should interject that my sister has one daughter. ONE. She will be MOB only once. And I will also mention that while my sister was married twice, she never had a blow out in your face wedding and reception. The first wedding was very small with only immediate family in attendance. The second wedding was a destination wedding in Hawaii with only she and her husband in attendance.

So this was it. This was the one wedding where she could go all out! Show what she has. She is a perfect size 6, or a 4 on her skinny days. She works out, she is fit. Not like me who believes work outs consist of walking to the bathroom during commercials. She has yogurt for breakfast. C'mon. Who has yogurt for breakfast. She threw out all the chips in her house so she wouldn't be tempted. If I was her neighbor, I'd be out in the middle of the night combing through her garbage looking for those bags of chips!

Ya get the picture, she is gorgeous, thin, single, MOB and she wants to wear a suit with sandals. For her one daughter's wedding.

What WHAT is wrong with this picture. Just about everything. Again, I bite my tongue.

I finally talk her into trying on the sexy stilletoes. They are adorable. The sales clerk who was about 10 years younger than us says, "Wow. Those look great on you." Slam dunk. My sister walks around in them and says, "Ya know, I kinda like these!!" Well, DUH!! She then tries on the other pair I picked out and she exclaims, "I like these too!" So buy them both! Wear the sexy ones for the pictures and dance the night away in the lower heels. No brainer here!

She agrees and buys both pairs. As we were leaving the shoe department at Von Maur's my sister looks at a beautiful, trendy, youthful melon color dress on a manican. It had a deep v-neck with ruffles around the neckline. Skin tight. I knew instantly that she liked it. I suggest "Why don't we try that on?" She hesitates and says "I already have a suit." Yes yes you do...I push harder. "We're going upstairs to try this dress on NOW!"

My sister mutters something anal about it's not procedure to buy the shoes before you buy the dress. Details.....

We enter the evening wear section on floor 2. OH NO. There is not the magic gown in her size. She says, "Oh well, not to be...." NO NO NO. I grab a salesclerk and ask her if she would go down and get the dress off the manican as that looked like an extra small perfect for my sister size. Why is it that outfits on manicans are always size zero?? Who really is that skinny? The salesclerk was somewhat dense as she looked straight at us and says "We don't do that. We don't remove attire from manicans." WHAT?? Ummmm, yes you DO. Or at least you will today.

We stood there and held our ground. Figuring we were serious about trying on this dress, Miss Dense asks her supervisor who immediately says, "Why yes, you certainly can try that dress on. We'll go and get it for you." Miss Dense was not a happy salesclerk by now.

Great! I'm excited. Can't wait to see this formal dress on my sister.

Off my sister goes to the waiting room with Miss Dense holding the dress behind her. Miss Dense comes over to me a few minutes later and says, "Your sister has the dress on. She wants you to see her. Oh, and it looks terrific on her!"

I run to the waiting area yelling her name!! This waiting room is packed! Must be lots of weddings coming as there were ladies our age everywhere with formal dresses on. I felt like the ugly step sister, very underdressed with my jeans and John Deere sweatshirt on.

And then my sister appeared. She was radiant. Not only was she wearing a sexy modern dress but she was also wearing a huge smile.

She said "I feel special."

BINGBING> That's the feeling every MOB should have. The feeling of being special. MOBs are special. Next to the bride, they are the most important woman at a wedding.

She put on the sexy shoes and people stared. I wanted to put a crown on her and declare her "Queen for the Day," her daughter being the princess. Other woman were saying she looked beautiful. That the dress fit her like a tee. That she looked trendy. She looked youthful. She looked like a MOB! I asked other women "Does this look like a MOB dress? All the answers were a resounding YES!

Yet she lingered. "What about the suit?"

I took a deep breath and said, "No one will remember you as MOB wearing a melon color conservative suit that has pearl accents on the collar. But people WILL remember you wearing THIS dress."

"This dress is way outside my comfort zone." I nod.

"Ok, I'll return the suit." I secretly am screaming YES and doing a happy dance inside my head.

She had to have a few minor things altered and the seamstress pinned up the hem. My sister is committed now. After alterations there is no "return it."

I simply cannot wait to see my beautiful sister walk down the aisle on the arms of an handsome usher on her daughter's wedding. She not only will be "queen for the day" but she will make all of her guests feel like they have witnessed something special.

My job here is done.

Pop goes the shaver!

A fashionista knows it’s spring when she has to shave her legs. Winter legs can be hidden beneath boots, pants, tights. But in the spring, out comes the shorts, skirts and capris which means the legs must be hairless. Today was that day. Yesterday I was wearing a winter hat and today I am sweating with all the windows in my house wide open and fans running. Aaaah, life in the Midwest. But with the heat comes the bare legs. Around the house, who really cares if your legs are hairy or not. No one. And I’m pretty sure no one would care if you ever shaved your legs again. But women seem to care. I am such a woman. I have a Lady Sunbeam electric shaver. I have had this shaver since, gulp, college. Yup, that old. It has long lost its brand name on the shaver and the blades I’m sure are very dull. But it has served me well.. Until today. It is an electric shaver which means I have to plug the cord into an outlet. Which is the easy part. What happens next is a challenge. The cord is very frayed from use. But if you hold the cord JUST RIGHT, the shaver will do its duty. It’s more difficult to hold the cord in this special way when you have to reach around and do the back of your legs. But it is possible and I’ve done that for too many years than I want to admit. Until today. I get out Miss Lady Sunbeam, plug it in and jiggle the cord. Nothing. Hmmmm. I jiggle again. Again, nada. One more for the gipper and WALA I have humming. But it is short lived. As soon as I move the shaver, the humming stops. Dead. I do some more jiggling of the cord and see that there is a certain way that if I hold it I can get a spark to connect the obvious wires inside. Now my mind is thinking… what to do what to do what to do. I am married to an engineer!! He MUST have electrical tape!! I rush downstairs, with my hairy legs, and ask my man for his secret weapon. No, not duct tape, but instead electrical tape. He asks me what color I wanted. There are color choices in electrical tape? Why?? I say it doesn’t matter and he hands me green. I was expecting standard black but green will suffice. Back up to my bathroom. Plug the cord back in and try to hold the cord in the precise way so that it hums and I can tape it. Easier said than done. I then put the shaver in my lap and try taping and holding the cord attached to the shaver with both hands while it is humming. I see smoke. A dark dirty smelly smoke coming from my lap. Ohhhhh this can’t be good! Why is it smoking? Doesn’t electrical tape hold the parts together so it DOESN’T smoke? I quickly turn off the shaver. I put down the Miss Lady Sunbeam with the frayed cord now glowing with neon green tape and stare at it. Maybe it just needs to cool down a few seconds. 1, 2, 3… Grabbing the shaver at the count of 20 I turn it on and hope for the best. I hear humming!! Alright!! Life is good! I begin to shave my right leg. All is going well. My hairy leg is becoming smooth and hairless. Done with leg #1. Switch to the left leg. Things are going along smoothly when all of a sudden I hear a POP noise. Like a gun shot. I dropped the shaver, which is dead... again. I don’t want to touch it. What if I blew a fuse? Do I unplug the stupid thing? Or wait until I hear my husband’s footsteps coming into my bathroom demanding to know what happened. I wait. I don’t see smoke. I don’t see my husband. I don’t see fire. Just like the fireman tells you NOT to do in first grade, I pull the cord from the middle of the cord to unleash it from the outlet. I try turning on the light. Light works. Didn’t blow a fuse. Whew. Sadly I lay the deceased Miss Lady Sunbeam on my counter. But my left leg is still not hair free. It looks like a zebra. With some dark line stripes, some gone. This is definitely unacceptable. Frantically searching for a razor that I knew I saw in my vanity drawer 5 or 6 years ago, I found what I was looking for. A old fashion Bic hand held razor. Still in its wrapper. I haven’t shaved with a blade since, well, let’s just say a long long time. Do you use water first? Get the leg wet? That doesn’t seem right. Maybe use shaving cream? My husband has a beard, thus no shaving cream in the house. I remember seeing tv commercials with the lovely lady in the tub with her leg on the rim of the tub shaving. But who has time for a tub bath? That seemed ridiculous and a waste of my valuable time. May as well just shave el’naturale. And I did. I also knicked my leg in several spots. And am now walking around with daps of toilet paper stuck to my leg where I tried to stop the bleeding. I always put lotion on my legs after my Miss Lady Sunbeam shave so that my legs get remoisturized from the trama of being shaved. So I did that. Used some vanilla scented lotion. OUUCH!! Do NOT do this. Especially if you have fresh cuts in your legs. This burns like a son of a gun. I repeat, do not do this! I grabbed a towel, ran it under the faucet and soothed my newly shaved yet burning legs. But my legs are now hairless and sexy. I am ready to show off my skin to the rest of the world. Well, first I need to let the scabs form on the cuts and the red blochy burn marks from the lotion disappear. But good news. The weather is going to break tonight with a storm and the high is only 55 tomorrow. That’s slacks weather!! I’m good to go.

TO PARK OR NOT TO PARK, That is the question!

Somewhere in the world of common sense is the unwritten rule "If it snows and you spend hours plowing and shoveling the snow away from your front curb, you have the right to park there."

I think that is a very simple rule. You shovel, you park. You don't shovel, you don't get to park. What could be more logical?

We have new neighbors kitty korner across the street. I know they are new neighbors because our streets were full of SUVs last Saturday afternoon. They must have been having a "come and see our new house and drive the biggest vehicle you own" pizza party. And all these SUVs were parked on our street. Let me rephrase that, they were all parked in front of MY house. Yup, in the parking space that my husband spent hours blowing snow to get a parking spot so I had an easy in, easy out to park my car on the street.

I was not a happy camper when I came home from shopping on Saturday only to find NO parking in front of my house. Whattodowhattodo?

I decided to gun my little champagne Corolla over a snow drift and park as close as I can to one of the SUVs to prove my point. Of course my little dinky toyota looked like a toy car next to a huge white SUV.

All day these SUVs stayed in my front parking spot. I watched multiple pizza cars stop and deliver pizzas throughout the afternoon. How many pizzas can these people eat??

Finally the party broke up and people came running out to get into their SUVs and go wherever. I noticed the average age of these people was early 20's. Did their mothers NOT teach them fundamental manners?

But I let the issue go. Ok, so they had a moving in party. Fine. I can understand that. It was just a one time thing. I can live with that.

Now we all know we had the mother of all snow storms Tuesday and Wed. My husband spent 3+ hours blowing snow out of the street into our yard so that I would have my parking spot back on the street. All the other neighbors were also blowing and shoveling their little private area in front of their house for their cars that park on the street.

I came home today for lunch from my job and I see TWO SUVs parked in front of my house. You have GOT to be kidding me! Did these young new IDIOT neighbors not see that a parking spot was in front of MY house for MY car? Did they think MY husband plowed and shoveled for 3 hours for THEIR vehicles?

Fumes are coming out of my ears and I'm breathing fire. How RUDE! How INCONSIDERATE! If you want a parking spot, then SHOVEL!

My mail lady is dropping off my mail and I am outside retrieving my mail when I see the new neighbor husband coming to his SUV. GREAT. I say "Excuse me!! But my husband spent 3 hours blowing snow......."

He said, "I will move my car. My mother's car was in my driveway."

Don't care. It could be the President's car. If you don't shovel a spot, you don't get to park.

I went back to work after lunch still fuming.

Finally it's 5:00 and I'm driving home. I round the corner of our street in my car and there..... in front of my house.... is a SUV. Not just ANY SUV, but the same white SUV that I just asked to be moved. Arrrrghhh.

My body is boiling. I'm so angry. Can people really be that STUPID? That un-neighborly?

I take a deep breath and I walk over to the new neighbors. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

Some child answers. "Are your mom and dad at home?" The child points inside.

I go in and meet the "Mrs." Who is very nice. Young.

Introductions were made and I welcomed "Stacy" to the neighborhood. HOWEVER, I let her know about the "unwritten" rule pointing to her SUV glaringly sitting in the front of my house in my newly shoveled parking spot. "Is this your vehicle?" I asked with a smile. C'mon, I was being nice.... kinda.

"Have you noticed that there were shoveled spots in front of some of the houses?" I ask innocently. "Stacy" nodded. "Yeah," I continued, "those spots were shoveled out by the person who lives there for THEIR car." DUH!!

And then I layed it on thick..."I broke my feet a couple years ago and so my husband blows out a big area for me so that I don't ever have to worry about getting stuck and walking home or having to shovel myself."

Ok, so that was overkill. But desperate times require desperate measures.

"Stacy" says "But we have no where to park our car!" WHAT?? Do you NOT own a shovel? Do you NOT see the snow drift in the front of YOUR house? And it's a corner lot, so I say "Well, you could park over there," pointing to their side yard.

"No we can't. There are cars parked there." Well DUH! Of course there are cars parked there. But if YOU shoveled YOUR drifts, YOU would have a place to park YOUR SUVS!

I am now shaking my head in my mind frustrated thinking my job here is done. I have come over as a friendly neighbor basically saying "STAY OUT OF MY PARKING SPOT."

We shall see. I did notice after supper tonight, the white SUV is gone from in front of my house. Maybe "Stacy" did get the message... If not, my new neighbors may find a new shiny metal shovel on their front step with a big bow on it with a sweet note saying "Thought you might need this."

Take Down

Friday was the official day to take down the Christmas tree. I even had it on my work calendar. And you know if something is written on a work Outlook calendar, well, it better get done.

I have a skinny one piece artificial Christmas tree. It's easy for me to handle. The box I store it in is the original box and I can easily slide the cardboard box down the stairs from where it is stored 10 months out of the year.

Since the tree is skinny and doesn't have many branches, I used the garlands from my daughter's wedding 5 years ago to fill in the open areas to make the tree look thicker. The garlands were purple and white so this year away with the traditional colors of red and white, and instead my tree was bright with lavendar, purple and twinkle lights.

But Friday the tree had to come down. No more procrastination. I started to take down the 12 days of Christmas ornaments and my cat decided the ornaments were fun new toys. I saw the bulb "Three french hens" go under the buffet and "Five golden rings" went flying under the t.v. Obviously my cat was not going to be my little helper.

Off come the garlands, the rest of the 12 days of Christmas ornaments and the tree topper. Everything that was once on the tree is now on the floor in a pile, or under the buffet, or under the tv or now even under the couch.

The challenge now is how to get that black metal piece that anchors the tree and allows the tree to stand. I remember having to shove the tree trunk into that sucker when I put the tree up.

I stood on the black metal piece and tried to lift the tree off. Didn't even budge. I thought I was holding the tree trunk too high so I bent over and tried to lift the tree off again. Nothing. What the ...

So I topple the tree over to its side and try to pull off the black metal piece. The cat is now attacking the tree because the tree is on top of the ornaments and my cat is thinking the tree wants HER ornaments. I am yanking with all of my might to pull off the black metal anchor. Seriously, there is absolutely no movement.

Did I have to SCREW that black metal piece ON? I don't remember doing that but I try. I start to spin the square black metal piece and it starts to move. HALLELUJAH! So I keep spinning it and pulling at the same time. This goes on for several minutes. By now my cat is hissing at the tree and has 10 of the 12 ornaments scattered around my living room. The garlands are now spread every which way and I see glitter everywhere.

I'm now getting pissed. This shouldn't be that difficult!! If I put the base ON the tree, I should be able to take the base OFF the tree. The spinning is now useless. I have about 2 inches of pipe showing from the tree to the black metal base and it's stuck. One last effort and with all my strength and a couple of choice words, I pull. C R A C K. More choice words and a big OH SH&T.

Now the base is at my feet free of the tree. I survey the damage to the tree and yup, there is a lovely crack up the fake wood trunk. SH&T. What to do what to do.

The only thing TO do is put the tree in the big skinny cardboard box and tape it shut. Outta sight, outta mind. Get a big garbage bage and gather all the 12 days of Christmas ornaments (still looking for 10 drummers drumming), and shove the garlands into the garbage bag.

Haul the tree box up the stairs while dragging the big garbage bag in my other hand and throw everything in the spare bedroom which houses the storage closet aka attic. Get down on my hands and knees to open the mini door to the attic, wave my hand around in the dark attic until I find the cord for the light and then shove everything in the attic. But then I see something black go flying in. My cat has now joined me in the attic which is a big NO NO cause once she gets in the attic, she has all these new things to play with and I'll never get her to come out. The attic is not insulated and I'm cold as I gently call her name to get the cat to come OUT of the DAMN attic! "Here kitty, c'mon Stella...mommy's cold..."

I try to grab her but she's fast. FINE. Stay in the damn attic. See if I care. I back out of the attic on my hands and knees and by now my knees are starting to hurt. There is no carpet in the attic and these knees are not attached to a 21 year old's body.

I crawl out and sit on the bedroom floor looking at the black void in the attic which is now stuffed with my Christmas decorations and ... my cat. And I can feel the cold air from the attic.

Stupid stupid cat. OH WAIT!! BRILLIANCE came upon me.

I run down the stairs and get the kitty treats. Shake the bottle and say "Here kitty. Come and get a treat." My cat hears the rattle of her treats, and like a flash of lightning the cat is streaking towards me and I throw the kitty treat into the kitchen as I run up the stairs, into the bedroom, on my hands and knees and lock the door to the attic.

Whew. The tree is safely tucked away. The cat is happy eating her tuna treat.

And ya know, as far as the crack in the tree, doesn't that just make the fake tree look more real? Yup, that works for me.

ice

It takes time to scrape ice off your car's windshield. And who has this extra two minutes in the morning on a cold winter's day. Not me. I should mention that my car has never seen the inside of a garage. I park it in the front of my house outside.

So how does one scrape the ice off a windshield? You get in the car, put the defrost on full blast bend down and lean forward as much as you can in the driver's seat and tilt your head so you can look through the very bottom of the windshield at that 1/8 inch sliver of clear.

This is how lazy people drive in the midwest on a cold winter's day. And truth be told, I am one of those people.

Yesterday was cold. And of course I was running late in the morning because it's so hard to get out of a warm bed in the middle of the winter. Thus I had no time to scrape windows of my car. So I turned on the defrost, looked through the sliver and off I drove. But I'm having a very difficult time seeing through the sliver. I turn on the windshield wipers. Nothing.

Then I do the unthinkable. I pull back on the blinker light control and spray some water on the windshield while I'm driving. You would think I would know better! I have a literature degree from a 4 year college for heaven's sake!!

This brilliant move has now resulted in ANOTHER layer of ice on my already iced over windshield. I am blind. I cannot see whatsoever.

Remembering seeing a green parked car along the route before I became stupid, I knew I had to drive a little further to clear the parked car. And then I pulled over. Needless to say, I cannot see the curb but realized soon enough where it was once I hit it.

Now I have to physically get OUT of the car, find the scraper which I threw in the backseat last week and do what I should have done 5 minutes ago and start hacking away at the ice on my windshield.

I have a nice little circle going right in the middle of the driver's side of the windshield. It's FREEZING outside so I figure that was good enough.

Get back in the car, roll down the driver's window because that window is also frozen glossy from ice and I didn't scrape it, and merge into traffic. Roll the window back up and stare through my little circle. But I am leaning so far forward to see out that my body has begun to fog up the windshield.

You have GOT to be kidding!! I rub the inside of the windshield with my gloved hand. There, I can sorta see again. Kinda.

I've gone about 2 blocks now and I figure it's warm enough to try again with the jet spray of water. I shoot. I do not score.

I'm blind. AGAIN. I cannot see a thing. My little hole is closed now with ice as is my sliver below. The wipers are worthless. Stinking unbelievable.

Once again I have to pull my car over and again find the scraper and again go out in the cold and again scrape the windshield. This time I put some muscle behind it. The whole driver's side of the windshield is clear. Screw the other windows.

I get back in the car and take the winter scarf around my neck and put it up to my mouth. I do not want to fog the window from the inside.

She's off again. I resist the urge to jet spray the window with water. Call me dumb but I learned my lesson. I won't be doing that a third time.

Slowly but surely my car's windshield begins to defrost and I can lower the scarf from my mouth and sit back in the driver's seat.

I tell my husband about my adventure later that night at the dinner table and he calmly asks me "Why didn't you start the car with the remote starter you have on your keychain before you went outside this morning and let it warm up?"

Ohhhhh yeahhhhh rightttttt. But again, that would take 2 minutes and who has that time in the morning???

Note to self: Change the alarm clock setting by two minutes. But just for the winter months.

Blue Ridge Mts

It is Christmas in the midwest. Which means clearly, cold weather and snow. Lots and lots of white. And Iowa did not disappoint. We have had our share of snow...every day...every where.

My husband and I decide to head NE for the holiday. My daughter and her husband live in Harrisburg, PA and it was there where we went to celebrate Christmas.

Harrisburg is an interesting city. Very spread out. And low risers. Not a high rise in the city. Plus it has a lovely setting with the river and moutains in the background.

But the best thing about Harrisburg? NO SNOW. There was green grass in Harrisburg. In December. At Christmas. It was almost unnatural!

Oh it was chilly outside and there was a touch of winter in the air. One day it did snow. It looked like lint coming down from the sky. My son in law says "Wait....wait for it.. THERE! Did you see that ONE flake!!"

Because mountains are not a natural sight in IA, I wanted to drive through the Blue Ridge Mountains of Harrisburg. My daughter is behind the wheel and I am gawking at the beautiful scenery. She had never driven up the mountain passes either. We were in for a mother/daughter adventure.

She took an exit called "Mountain Road." That seemed appropriate. And up the mountain we went. It reminded me of Road to Hana in Maui. Twisting, turning, up up with more twists. At one point I calmly asked "Are we at the top yet?" My daughter replied, "No, we are only at tree level." Ohhh that means there are more twists and turns coming...

I should mention there are not alot of houses on Mountain Road. There were some horse farms and the horses did glance our way when we drove passed thinking "Look at those fools driving up this mountain. Obviously not locals." We met a few cars along the route that were driving DOWN the mountain. But where did these people come from??

It is now too late to turn around and go back down the mountain. We are nearly there - to the peak. I was hoping for a "scenic view" rest stop. But no. Not on this mountain. Only a winding, twisting road back down. I could actually see that we were going AROUND this mountain!

Time was clicking by and I was beginning to wonder if we would get down this mountain while it was still daylight. Apparently the locals knew to get DOWN while the sun was UP.

My daughter's car had a GPS and I kept looking at it. When would we be driving STRAIGHT?? I have also come to the conclusion that it is easier to be the driver in a car that is mountain climbing than a passenger. The driver can control the turns. The passenger just holds on and prays.

Finally, we are back on level ground. Our ears are done popping. I was looking for the vendor stand that sold "I survived the Blue Ridge Mountain Road" tshirts. Nothing. We ended up in a little town called Elizabethville. It was a town of 3 houses and a bar. Again, nothing worthy to stop at and brag that we just drove through the mountain pass.

I looked at the GPS hoping there was another way BACK to Harrisburg that didn't involve a mountain road. My daughter knew exactly what I was thinking as she declared "We are NOT going on that road again. We WILL find another route." I could have kissed her. But she was busy finding a new route on her TomTom.

We did find a 4 lane highway outside of Elizabethville which would eventually get us back to Harrisburg. It was along the river. Lovely river. Smooth river. All on one level river. Not a mountain river.

Harrisburg is a scenic city complete with a mountain range and a wide river. Next time I'm there I plan on going shopping and leaving the scenery in the background.

Nose job

20 days ago and counting I broke my nose. People fracture bones every day. Truth be told, I have had my share of broken bones. Feet, arm, wrists, toes. I can now add nose to the growing list.

It really wasn't even a major fall that made my nose break. Tripping over a computer cord is what did the trick. But I remember very clearly how my nose slammed against the wood floor in my dining room. My husband jokes and says "Look at this floor where Joly fell. Not a scratch on it!!" Some have asked me why I didn't catch myself with my arms. I don't know. Some have asked if I was running. I don't know. The ER Doctor asked if I blacked out. I don't know. All I know is that I fell after my left foot became entangled in a cord connecting my laptop to a printer. And I landed on my nose.

I was Humpty Dumpty and I had a great fall.

Right away I knew that this fall was exceptional. Warm red blood was gushing from the top of my nose and from the inside of my nose. Freaking out because I couldn't get the blood to stop oozing out of me, I ran to find my husband while holding toilet paper over my nose and breathing heavily through my mouth.

It was 2:00 on a Saturday and Pat was taking his usual weekend nap. Shaking him with a bloody hand I screamed "I fell. Pat, I fell." That's quite the waker-upper!!

Pat became ENTman and washed off the blood and stated that I had a cut on my nose that "looks pretty deep." At this point I didn't know whether to cry or laugh. Either way, the reaction would make my nose hurt even more. He put a bandaid over my nose and said "I think you'll be ok."

But the bleeding wouldn't stop. I started to feel a little light headed. For some odd reason, instead of going right away to the ER, I texted my sister. How was she going to help me? Immediately she said GO TO THE ER. But was this injury really ER worthy? Would I be told to just go home cause I have a little owie on my nose?

Looking for a second opinion, I texted my daughter, the NP. She didn't respond. So I texted her husband, a nurse anesthetist. He quickly texted back GO TO THE ER NOW.

It was a consensus. Second opinion agreed with the first. Off to the ER we go. The ER Nurse and PA both say I needed xrays. Which were done. I was calming down now figuring the PA would just tell me that I have a bruise and nothing to worry about.

Then I made the mistake. I hadn't seen myself in a mirror since the fall. And there was no mirror in the ER room. I asked Pat to take a photo of me using my cell phone. He did and showed it to me.

Now I have a natural big German nose. But this photo was UN BE LI EV AB LE! I just stared at it. I wanted to cry but couldn't. My nose was too congested for snot tears.

The ER PA returned with the xray results. "It's broken. In two spots." I hung my heavy laden nosed head.

Two places? Did he say two places?

"Good news tho. Alignment looked good."

There is absolutely and utterly no good news in a fractured nose. Not even James Earl Jones can make that sentence sound pretty.

A nose. The most prominent feature of a person's face. Broken.

It hit me then. How can one function with a nose fracture?? I mean really, think about it. How can you breathe with a broken nose? This is serious congestion!! How could I ever go to work?

The ER PA kinda shrugged his shoulders and said, "You should be able to go to work on Monday. Ice it and take ibruprofen. If there is any significant change, you could go see an ENT physician. " And out the door he went.

The ER nurse was more understanding. She informed me that I would have black eyes and it would take time to heal. But I should be fine. She gave me a hug as we left the ER room.

Did they NOT look at my face? Did I have to show them the photo on my cell phone?? I'm a mess. My nose is now the size of the State of Vermont and my eyes are starting to get puffy. And what is that pounding in my head?

Back at home and within 1 hour the raccoon eyes start to appear. The eye lids that once sheltered my eyeballs are now dark darker darkest purple marshmellows. And there is something really funky going on in my upper cheek bones. And I really cannot breathe through my nostrils.

The fall happened on a Saturday. And by Monday my face was one big purple grape. No question I needed expert advise from a ENT specialist.

My first visit with Dr. was eventful. The nurse took lots of photographs. Of my nose. Up my nose, over my nose, the sides of my nose. It was basically a mug shot of my nose. I imagined an overhead photograph of my nose being used at the next ENT conference. "This woman had an exceptional fall. Just LOOK at the size of that thing!"

But the photo taking made me think that I should document my daily healing. Every morning I would wake up, walk to the bathroom to look in the mirror and see if this ugly duckling had improved. And every morning I would take my cell phone and take a photo.

I knew NO ONE would believe how horrendous this fall was. Even I have heard others say "Oh I fell this weekend" and we just say "well, get better soon!" No one would say that if they saw me. They would gasp and point and have no words. Yup, it was that bad.

I sent day #2 photo to my boss by text. He texted back "Funny picture." Apparently he didn't believe it was really me in the photo. I then sent the photo to my sister and my daughters. They were shocked.

Every day thereafter I would take a photo of me and send it to my sister and my daughters. My daughters, being supportive, would say "You'll get better." Or "you look better than yesterday." My loving sister texted back "You look rough." Nothing like sisterly love to say the truth.

I did look rough. I looked like I just lost the heavy weight championship. No shining belt award for me tho. Instead I got a plastic squeezeable netti pot.

Two weeks it took for me to be able to hide the bruises enough to go out in public. Two weeks of black eyes, black cheeks, black lips. Every day the blood would settle lower in my face. The first couple of days I could hide the bruises with a pair of oversized sunglasses. But since I wasn't going any where, and the sunglasses hurt sitting on my broken nose bridge, it wasn't worth it.

I couldn't read cause I couldn't wear my glasses. I could barely eat my lip was so swollen. Nothing smelled good anyways. I wanted to sit and cry and have a pity party for one, but I couldn't cry. I knew then I would have to blow my nose and just the thought of that made me cringe. TV became my soul mate and Drew Carey & Ellen Degeneres became my new best friends.

Just JUST when I was beginning to heal, day #14, I caught a head cold. This has GOT to be the worst thing E V E R for a person with a broken nose. E V E R. I could feel the sneeze coming and I swear I thought it would kill me. I steadied myself for the AHCHOO trying to mentally make it go away. AHHHHHCHOOOOOO.

It didn't kill me. I survived the sneeze. Then I knew I would live to tell the tale.

So again, it's just me and my nose. A new, different kind of red. Head cold red. I can't smell the Vicks when I smear it on my body and I don't know if that is a result of the fracture or the headcold.

I swear I may never be able to smell again. And this is the season for smelling!! The baking, the evergreens, the candles, even the smell of the first snow fall!!

My husband asked me what I wanted for Christmas this year.

I whispered, "I want all the kings horses and all the kings men to come to our house and make me smell again."

If he buys me soap........I will have to kill him.

Months later

It was pointed out to me that I haven't blogged for some time. This is true. There have been many subjects I could have blogged about. My eldest daughter recently became married and I could write about how it was raining on her wedding day and how I fell out of my husband's SUV fully donned in my Mother of the Bride gown right unto my knees into a puddle while my cell phone went flying out of my hand hitting yet another puddle and the battery going one way out of the phone and the back of the phone going another. And how my husband drove away to pick up other guests and I am left behind with a wet soiled gown without a cell phone. Yeah, I could write about that.

Or I could write about how a co-worker actually said NO to the CEO when he asked her to do a certain job for him. I truly didn't know it was possible to say NO to doing something the big wig wants you to do without getting fired! Learn something new every day.

I suppose I could write about how I went to LaCrosse to meet my sister for a fun filled Girls Only weekend and how we happened to down a bottle of merlot wine actually called "Middle Sister Wine."

But instead I'm going to write about a lump in my abdomen. Because I am noticing that the older I get, the more I enjoy talking about diseases, illnesses and operations. That must be the first sign of being older than dirt. Talking about bodily functions and what your body can't do anymore.

During a yearly physical, I told my doctor that I have a lump in my abdomen. Above the belly button, right in the center of my gutt. My doctor felt my lump and said "We gotta do some tests." I never liked tests in school and that opinion hasn't changed post-school.

"I'm going to schedule you for a CT scan with contrast."

I say "Is this the test where I have to drink barium?"

"Yes, and I apologize ahead of time for that. Make sure you drink the barium cold. It's more bearable."

Ok, so these statements from my doctor were not encouraging. The barium must be as horrid as the colon cleanser. I was not looking forward to this "drink of necessity."

I was told to drink it before going to bed. I've heard this before. With the colon concoction. Will I need to stay by a toilet? Will there be multiple explosions coming from my behind??

And then to drink another 8 oz in the morning. Again, been there, done that.

I go online to research what other people are saying about the barium drink before a CT Scan. It is not favorable. "Worst taste E V E R!" "Rather drink urine than drink barium again." This isn't sounding very yummy.

I wait all day until 9:45pm and then walked into the kitchen to drink the fruit of satan. I am prepared. I am ready. Bring it on.

Remembering the doc said to "shake it well" and "drink what your stomach will tolerate at a time." I am only pouring 1/2 the bottle into a glass. I could have drunk it out of the container, but I am a lady and I will use a glass to drink this poision.

And then I chug. Down down down. Wait! This stuff really isn't that bad! And I was thirsty so it went down pretty well! It tastes like Pepto Bismo. Just a little chaulky. I pour the rest of the bottle in the glass and I finish off the drink.

Hmmmm. Now what? Do I wait til I feel that nagging cramping in my stomach? Should I stay near the toilet? I wait a little while and nothing... Heck, may as well go to bed!

Quiet night. No explosions.

The next morning I down the second bottle of barium juice. And I'm off to the radiology department to be scanned.

I give the receptionist my driver's license and health insurance card. I hear the woman behind the receptionist say "The photo on the license doesn't look like the woman who handed it to you." Not what I wanted to hear. I ask "Is there a problem?" The receptionist mutters to the other woman, "I don't ask questions. I just take the license and make a copy of it." The receptionist hands back my license and I look at the photo. Ok, so it's a LITTLE different. My hair is more blonde in the photo and I'm not wearing glasses and I was 25 lbs lighter.

I was given a lovely hospital bracelet and told to "wait over there." One does not argue with a health care receptionist because she has the power to put your name at the bottom of the waiting list, so I went "over there" and sat down.

Soon my name was called. "Jolene Win..... pause." Yup, that's me!

Now I had researched online what was going to go on during my CT scan. I would be asked to drink yet another delicious glass of barium, told to put on a hospital gown and would be put on a flat table to be inserted into the big circle called the CT Scan.

Sure enough. I am given another glass of barium. The tech says "I know it seems like a lot of barium, but the more you can keep in your stomach, the better the images. I know that stuff tastes awful." I drink the juice in one gulp.

I am waiting for my hospital gown wondering where I will be sent to change into the gown. I see no bathroom, no dressing room. I do see the big white scanner.

A male tech comes in and tells me to hop on the table and we'll begin the scan. NO NO NO. I am still dressed!! This isn't proper procedure!! I need a hospital gown and be told to 'tie it in the back."

The male tech slaps the table and again says "Right here. Lay right here." Ok.

I am now nervous. This isn't going as planned. Something is amiss. The male tech says "I will put a sheet over you and you can unzip your pants and pull them down on your hips."

This was definitely NOT in the online instructions.

But this man had control of the CT buttons and I didn't want to piss him off. We're talking radiation here!!

So I wiggle my pants down and say "I'm good to go!"

The tech shows me two little icons on the scan. "When this icon lights up, you are to hold your breath. When this other icon lights up, release your breath and breathe easily." "Are you ready?"

No... wait. Which one lights up so that I can breathe? How long do I have to hold my breath?

Too late. Tech Boy is moving the table under the CT scan and I hear a mature man saying "Hold your breath NOW." I am not arguing. I am holding.

Same voice "Breathe normal NOW." I am breathing.

I figure we are done. The tech says "Ok, I was just getting the scan calculated. We will now put the contrast into your vein and begin the testing."

Again, NOT on the online instructions. I didn't know there was going to be a pre-test or an IV!!

The tech did a fab job getting the IV in and says "You will feel warm. And you will feel like you are urinating. But you are not peeing." Good to know....

"You will feel heat in your thyroid." I was too busy concentrating on my breathing that I didn't want to tell Tech Boy that I don't have a thyroid. Details....

OMG. I feel like I'm peeing!! What IS that??

"You will feel like you have to urinate now." YES!! "This will go away in about 15 seconds." I begin to count.

"I'm going to move the table under the scan. Listen to the voice."

"Hold your breath. Breathe. Hold your breath. Breathe." Table is moving in and out. I think to myself should I hold my breath by sucking in my stomach? Or puff out the stomach and hold. What if I can't hold it for as long as I'm suppose to. PRESSURE.

"Ok! All Done!"

What What?? Should I be breathing now?

Tech boy tells me to "zip up." And that I should drink alot of water to "flush out the barium. Barium can be like cement."

Enough said. I can't get enough water in me. I am a floating breathing machine. My NP daughter tells me "to eat fiber after the barium treatment. Fiber Fiber Fiber. Water Water Water. " I see a pattern.

Tech boy said I will get the results in the afternoon or next day. I wait. And wait some more and then two days later I call. "Any results yet?" "No and when we get them, we will call YOU." Yikes.

Next day I get the results. Swallow. Breathe. "Nothing significant in the CT scan. Just a thinning of the abdominal wall."

That's it? I drank chaulk, worried, drank enough water for a herd of camels, loss sleep and this is the answer? Nothing significant??

So I'm guessing it's a mass of fat. Just sitting above my belly button reminding me that I am not 21 anymore and I'm not 120 pounds.

I can live with that.

A screamer

What is the wildest thing you can do in Minnesota? Tubing baby!! Tubing!

Last weekend I did just that. And I have a sore body to prove it!

It all started when my older sister said she had never tubed. This is a Minnesota born and raised woman who actually owns a cabin on one of the 10,000 lakes in God's country. My family has a reunion at her lake place and this was THEE perfect opportunity for her to check something off her bucket list.

I, on the other hand, was a pro at tubing. I had done it once... at the reunion last year. I was brave, I was encouraging, I was experienced.

Let's tube!!

My niece was at the helm of the speed boat. She assured us both that she would go slowly over the gentle waves of the lake.

My nephew tied on two tubes to the back of the boat. My sister and I could tube side by side. What a beautiful way to spend a warm Saturday afternoon. Floating over the water. Engulfed in the pure enjoyment of it all.

First comes the challenge of getting IN the tube. Fitted with our life preservers, we are ready. I suggested to my sister that perhaps she should leave her sunglasses behind. She looked at me as if she is confused. Remember that this is the same sister that said she would go with me on the Amazing Race but she doesn't do heights, won't ride a horse or make a fool of herself. But off come the Foster Grants and plunk. She is in her tube and giving the thumbs up.

Me, again being the experienced tuber, hop off the dock into the tube. Except, I missed the tube. How does one miss a 5 foot round tube? Apparently it's not that hard to do!! Into the murky seaweed I plunge. Now for those of you that know me, you know that I do not dunk. I dangle off the edge of a dock or pool, but I rarely dunk.

This day I dunked. And it was not a graceful entrance. Butt first into the water, with my legs spread in the air in a straight V position, I go under. I think I'm going to the promised land. My life flashes before me. But then I am bobbing. Like the cork on a fishing line. The life jacket brings me back to oxygen and I see my loving and supporting family pointing and doubling over with laughter. Even my novice tubing sister is overcome with the giggles.

The hardest thing about tubing is when you fall out of the tube and have to get back in it from the water. There is no lady like way to get back in. My strong son in law grabs me by the jacket and plops me in the tube. More laughing. I am in the tube facing the wrong way. I see no problem with this but the boat driver refuses to start the boat until I am facing the correct way.

Fine. Ever try to move in a rubber tube when you are soaking wet and the rubber is not? After a few moments of mauevering and rubber farting I am facing the correct way, the laughter has subsided and we are ready for our grand adventure.

The boat begins to move slowly away from the dock. My sister is all smiles as she says to me, "Wow, this isn't so bad. I like this!"

But I knew what was coming so I just nodded and held on tight to the handles.

And then...... the boat.......revved up... and we were OFF!!

My legs shot up towards the sky. My head went back and my butt was glued to tube. Hang on sister, it's going to be a bumpy ride!!

I opened my eyes long enough to see my sister screaming. I'm sure her scream was deafening but my own scream was even worse.

We rode the north side of the lake and I never stopped screaming long enough to take a breath. But then I realized I wasn't going to drown so I began to keep my eyes open. Glancing over my left shoulder I see my sister with her eyes shut tight and her mouth wide open. And I begin to laugh. Here we are, two mature women tubing. Yup, cross that off our list of things to do before we die.

We continue to "ride the waves" and are even so brave to let go of the handles and raise our hands like we used to do on an amusement ride. Our faces are soaked from splashes, our swimsuits are no longer dry. The only thing that is dry is our feet which are still straight reaching for the sun.

My sister points towards the dock. She is done. But wait. The boat is not heading in, it's slowing down. In the middle of the lake. We are told that we must get off of the tubes and get into the boat.

Say WHAT?? Are you kidding me?? You have GOT to be joking!!

My whole body is stuck to the tube. The pressure of the ride only made my body suck into the tube more. I am one with the tube.

Someone in the boat is pulling the rope and bringing me towards the boat ladder. This little ladder is going to help me get out of the tube and into the boat? Doubtful.

There is no other way but to dunk... again.... out of the tube and reach for the white ladder. With a little prayer and a lot of jiggling, I am out of the tube. And I climb the 2 steps to hoist my shaky leg over the edge of the boat onto a boat chair.

We did it. We tubed the mighty lake.

Just then the driver admits to us "I only had the boat speed at half throttle."

Good enough for me. I am not a full throttle kind of gal. Maybe 30 years ago, but now I am just happy that we tubed and lived to tell about it. It was a thrill of a lifetime to be sure.... and my older sister muttered all the way back to the cabin "Never again, I thought I was going to die...."

Maybe we really aren't ready for the Amazing Race just yet.

Gone like the wind

I have been trying to grow out my hair for the big wedding. About two years ago I received a N A S T Y haircut from a student at a local cosmo college. It has literally taken me this long to grow past the "oops."

But I couldn't stand it another second. When the weather gets hot, either a woman puts her hair UP or cuts it OFF. My hair was at the stage where it was too short to put up and I definitely didn't want to go shorter.

Problem #1. I don't have a regular stylist. I don't know why. Just hasn't worked out well with any stylist since 1986. I used to have a regular stylist then but she was "let go" and that just freaked me out. How can a seasoned stylist be fired? I was always afraid since that I would find a stylist I liked and she would be "let go." So I never stuck around long enough to get a regular.

Problem #2. It was hot and I needed a cut and I needed it bad. Once I make a decision, stand back and let me go. I was going to get a cut today if I had to do it myself.

I went to a salon by Kmart. Not one customer in the salon. Too hot to be doing anything but have a beer and watch golf on tv. Good, I thought. I could get in and get out. Piece of cake, baby.

Problem #3. I wasn't specific. "I don't want the length cut. Just layer it."

Sounds simple? I could have done it myself, but I can't see the back of my head.

Problem #4. Never talk to your stylist. I think this is a good rule. If she starts talking, she loses focus on the prize.

I did not heed my own advice. I'm yakking away about the upcoming wedding and before I knew it, my haireth layeth on the flooreth!! And then she starts thinning what is left of my hair. Seriously, I don't think it needs thinning!! I like my thick hair. I feel like a female Sampson. Cut my locks and there goes my strength.

Too late.

I am now sporting a new do. A new look. Not the look I wanted, yet there it is. Short. Curly in the summer Iowa humidity. It will now take a whole bottle of ZERO FRIZZ to calm my 2 hairs that are left on my head.

Now I can emphasize with the women who complain about thin hair. Thin hair does not listen. Thin hair laughs when reach for the gel. Thin hair is lazy, does not do what you want it to do. Thin hair rules.

So I have 2 months for my hair to grow and expand to the style I was working towards for the wedding. Not going to happen. I'll just be happy if my ears are covered by then.

It's time to find a regular stylist.....

Meet the parents

My husband and I went to Chicago yesterday to meet my daughter's future inlaws who drove up to the Windy City from Kansas City the night before. We were to all meet at my daughter and her fiance's apartment at 2:00. Sounds simple right??

But what should I wear? More importantly, what does my husband have in his closet that will look "fatherish" and yet "fashionable." I searched his closet and decided he had nothing that fit either of those adjectives.

Off I go on my mission. To find an outfit for my husband and find something for myself to boot.

Mine was relatively easy. I knew I wanted to wear red. I think red makes a statement plus the fact I look pretty good in that color. Dress Barn proved the perfect store for me. Tried on a couple of red shirts and found IT! A stylish red trendy shirt that hid my muffin top but didn't look like maternity. It would look perfect with a pair of white capris. I was good to go.

Old Navy proved the perfect store for my husband's clothes. Found a pair of kaiki's that didn't look like "old man" and better yet, everything in the store was 30% off. Could it get any better?

I also stopped at KMart and picked up a couple more pants for him and some belts. I figured he could try them all on and pick what he liked.

Therein lies problem #1. My husband does not like to try on clothes, let alone model them for me. I swear the way he shops is he goes to the store closest to him at the time, grabs a pair of pants and shirts (and even shoes) and never tries them on. And if they fit, GREAT. If they don't fit, that's GREAT too, he'll still wear them.

And my husband is shrinking. Not around, but height wise. He used to be a 32 inseam when we got married, then a few years later I had to start hemming his 32's. So he bought 30 inseams and now I'm hemming those. He is now at the stage of buying 29 short and yes, I still have to hem them. 29 is as short as men's pants get. With my calculations, my husband has lost 4 inches in height. I keep telling him it's time for him to buy bigger heels......

But we are looking swell and ready to drive to Chicago. We arrive at the apartment at 1:29. 1/2 hour early but they are ready for us.

We then are introduced to the parents. Lovely people. Kind, caring, easy to talk with. There was an instant connection and we chatted the afternoon away. My daughter was being the perfect hostess serving wine to we drinkers and rootbeer to those that didn't indulge. Also had chips and dips. Couldn't have been nicer.

Time to go to Morton's Steakhouse for dinner. This is a very fancy restaurant. You know it is a fancy restaurant as soon as you open the menu and see that every piece of food is priced separately. No free salad or soup thrown in with the main entree. Drink menu was huge and my daughter politely suggested a wine for me. Thanks hon, whatever you say.

Ya know when you go to an amusement park, and they take your photo during the ride and sell it to you at the end of the ride? Same thing at this fancy restaurant. Only the photo is free. I thought that was a nice touch. The waiter, Michael, took our photo and said he would bring back several copies so we could all have a photo. Awwww, sweet Michael.

We ordered our drinks and our meals and we were just talking when Michael arrived back with our copies of the photos. He handed the photos to my daughter and I grabbed one to give to Paul's mother who was across the table. I reached across the table and while doing so, hit my glass of red wine which toppled over onto the WHITE tablecloth, onto my RED shirt and AAAAH, onto my WHITE capris!! Everyone at the table gasped. Die one million deaths. Here. Now.

I could feel the wine dripping off my lap onto the carpet. Michael quickly showed up with club soda and another WHITE napkin. Where did he come from??? But the stain was beyond the club soda "dabbing" period. The wine was now being soaked into my pants onto the skin of my upper left thigh.

Being the trooper mom of the bride that I am, I just waved off my embarrassment and we continued eating. I had lobster tail, my husband had prime rib. It was a meal fit for royalty.

Michael returns with complementary after dinner drinks. My pants are not yet dry so I think SURE, why not have another drink to kill some time. By now I am trying to figure out how I can walk out of this place with wine stained white pants and still hold my head up high.

But after the two glasses of wine, and an after dinner drink, I didn't much care who saw my wine drenched pants. And bless the future in laws as they didn't mention my polka dotted pants either as we exited the restaurant.

Now for some reason, I had packed an extra pair of pants. I have NEVER had a successful night wearing white pants. I seem to always spill or drop or dirty white pants every time I wear them. It just happens. I have learned to always bring a pair of extra BLACK stretch pants with me when I wear white. Thankfully, I had the DRY BLACK pants in the car and as soon as we got back to my daughter's apartment, on they went.

So the evening was a success. My daughter's future inlaws are delightful people who seem to love my daughter as much as my husband and I love their son. We said our goodbyes and my husband and I were back on Interstate 90 with our TomTom showing us the way.

I'm also thinking on the way home that of the 3 MOB dress choices hanging in my closet I am now opting NOT to wear the champagne color dress for the wedding. Too "light" thus too "dangerous." It is now a definite that I am going with the dark brown or dark cranberry color as there be wine drinking involved at the reception. I am also thinking that I should learn to like white wine....

You've got to be kidding!!

I received my hot pink Discover card with a monogram. One problem. The card reads "Patrick L. Windschitl" and has a P monogram on it. What is wrong with this picture????

So I made a call to Discover to ask "Lily" why she didn't put the card in MY name. Apparently Lily doesn't answer every call and I got "Judy."

Judy was quite pleasant as she verbally read off all the reasons to pay $2.00 for signature insurance. I don't think she took a breath!! Finally, she was finished with her speel and asked if there was anything else she could do for me.

"Why yes there is, Judy. I would like to know why when I requested a new card, you sent me a hot pink card with my husband's name on it."

"oh......." Long pause.

So once again, Judy had to talk to the designated owner of the card, my husband, who once again was not pleased to talk to yet another customer service rep. But this time he knew the procedure and just said YES to every question. The man is catching on.

Judy, being the perky pleasant customer service rep, said "I will EXPRESS mail this card to you."

I thanked her for her attention and hung up.

Meanwhile my husband is sporting a hot pink Discover card. For those of you who do not know Patrick, this is SOOOOOOO not him!! I think he dusted off his fingerprints on the card and shoved it in the back of his desk drawer never to be seen again.

No happy dancing today.

Hide and Seek

I have "misplaced" my Discover credit card. I should say "lost" but it has to be around the house somewhere. My Discover card is basically the only credit card I use. I love its rewards program. My husband keeps pushing me to open an American Airline Visa card so we can rack up mileage points. He has an AA Visa card and uses it all the time and has chaulked up some major flier miles. But I don't think I would qualify for an AA Visa gold card. I think you have to HAVE an income. My salary makes minimum wage look good. Plus I love my Discover card.

Only my credit card has been misplaced. Deciding to search for the card before calling the 800 number to request yet ANOTHER replacement card; yes, I've misplaced my Discover numerous times, I go outside to look in my car. Maybe it has fallen out of my snazzy Coach purse which I never zip close. With my butt in the air, I am looking high and low under the bucket seats, in the console, in the glove box. No card.

Next, back inside my house, I search under the sofa cushions. Maybe it slipped between the cushions after I used the card to place an online order on my laptop. No card. Did find my favorite pen tho and a bill I should have paid last month.

Searched the dining room table which holds a month's worth of useless snail mail. I really should go through that pile more carefully and discard what I don't need. Mental note to do that... later.

No card.

One last attempt to find it, under the actual sofa. Lift up the sofa and find many cat toys, a couple of old and now crusty junior mints, the envelope that goes with the bill I never paid, and a size J crochet hook. But alas, no Discover card.

Have to make the dreaded "call." You know, the call you know you have to make, but don't want to. I used to have to make the "Dick call." I had a batchelor gay uncle whom my mother always forced me to call when I went to Minneapolis to visit her. "He loves hearing from you girls," she would say. "It means so much to him." Sometimes I swear my mother is Jewish.

Why is it that when you call for customer service, they always say "We are experiencing a larger than normal call volume, please try our website at......." That's so annoying because you know if you hang on, eventually you will get a rep.

My wait was to be 4 minutes, or so the friendly voice on the other line said. Within 10 seconds, I was talking to Lily. Well, I don't know if her name was Lily, it was some gal with a foreign accent and I didn't understand what she said, so I just called her Lily.

"How may I help you Mrs. Wind......shi.....el....."

"I have misplaced my Discover card, Lily."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Did you lose it or was it stolen?"

"I misplaced it. It's around here somewhere, but I can't find it."

"Would you like me to send another card to you with the same account number?"

"Sure, Lily!"

"Oh, I see you are not the designated owner of this card."

"I'm not? Who is?"

"Patrick Win.......sch...ele...et. You are JUST an authorized user."

"Oh, he's here. Just a minute."

My husband is now glaring at me. He hates customer service reps. He has no clue who is on the phone or what I'm doing. I tell him in 3 seconds that a girl is going to come on the phone and he is just to say YES to whatever she asks.

"Hello," grumbles Pat. "um uh huh, yup......" And shoved the phone back to me.

Without missing a beat I tell Lily to send me a card ASAP. I have a wedding to plan!!
Lily then says to me, "Maybe you should get a different colored card so it won't be so easy to lose." I figure by now she has seen the 15 other times I have called for a replacement card.

"That would be GREAT!! How about a RED or a PINK?"

"We do carry a bright pink color. Would you like your monogram on it?"

Well, hot spit! ABSOLUTELY!!

Lily proceeds to tell me to expect in about a week. I hope I can wait that long..... But I now am an estatic Discover card owner again and I do a happy dance around the room. My husband is back focusing on his computer screen and ignores my dancing. He has mastered the art of focused ignoring.

Today, the next day, I came home from job #1 at noon to quickly grab a sandwich before heading off to job #2. Sitting on my living room sofa to catch a few minutes of People's Court, I feel a scratch on my butt. Through the cushion. Seriously.

Then it dawns on me. I have not seen Stella, my larger than life cat since last night when I was searching the house for my credit card.

I jump off the couch, lift up the couch and out SHOOTS the cat!! It was like a HUGE gray bullet blasting between my legs into the kitchen towards her cat bowl! She must have snuck under the couch last night when I was lifting it to search for the card. There is NO way my fat cat can fit under the couch just by slithering under it.

Poor Stella! Stuck in a dark low ceiling place overnight and my baby is hungry!!

So my cat is excited to be FREE after 15 hours and I'm excited to get my CARD in 5-7 business days!!

If I could catch her, Stella and I could do the happy dance together! It was a good day for the both of us.

Gotta drink!

Why does a woman who is passed her prime, have to see a ob/gyn physician? Because the doctor will find something that will just make you worry about something new.

I have blood in my urine. Not only did I not see red, but I don't even know how that is possible!

My sample showed microscopic blood which prompted my doc to schedule an ultrasound. Ultrasound? Am I pregnant? Maybe that's why I have a round belly!! NO NO NO says the doctor, a renal ultrasound.

Ok. Renal ultrasound. I don't even know what that is!! But I was soon to find out as the test was the next day at 8:15 am. Just enough time to google renal ultrasound and get the skivvy on the exam.

Google said it was a non-evasive imagery of kidneys. I could handle that. I liked the non-evasive.

I was told by the nurse at my doctor's office to make sure I had some liquid in my bladder before I had the test done the next day. "Don't overflow it, just have a little something in it."

She should have defined "a little".

I woke up the next morning after a good night's sleep and went into my bathroom and peed. It's the first thing I do in the morning and old habits are hard to break. As soon as I flushed I thought "CRAP! I need "a little" liquid in my bladder in 30 minutes!!"

So I sipped on a cup of black coffee and got ready for the day. That should be enough liquid, or so I thought.

Got to the exam room and the technician, Lisa, pulled my pants and underwear down and shirt up and there in all its glory was my gutt complete with sunken belly button and all. Lisa squirted some warm goop on my stomach and started rolling the mouse across my stomach. All these images showed up on her machine and she was clicking away with the buttons. I watched the screen and swore I saw 20 black circles on the screen. The tech asked if I ever had kidney stones. I swallowed hard and replied, "No, I don't think so." She chuckled and said, "You would know, they are extremely painful." Oh wonderful. Were kidney stones the black spots I saw on the screen? I envisioned an afternoon of severe pain.

"Roll on your side." She sounded serious.

I rolled on my side. The tech was moving the ultrasound scanner thingy to my back. Are kidneys in your back?

"Your left kidney is hiding on me." What? What? Hiding?

"Oh there it is!"

Thank god. I really wanted two kidneys....

Then the tech says, "I now need to check your bladder. Do you have a full bladder?"

Oh no! Full? What happened to "a little"?

Before I had the chance to ask about "little", the tech says "You have no liquid in your bladder." Well, where did the coffee go? "I will need you to drink something before I can continue."

She took a HUGE styrofoam cup and filled it with water and gave it to me. This had to be a Big Gulp size from Hardee's! I drank it down and she left the room. Only to come back with ANOTHER Big Gulp! You have GOT to be kidding!! My bladder can't hold all this water!

I chugged it down and the tech says "We will just hang out for 15 minutes now....."

How does one get the liquid from your lips to your bladder in 15 minutes? I closed my eyes and pictured the water going through my tubes into the kidneys down to the bladder. Hopeful thinking.

1 minute, 2 minutes, 15 minutes passed and the tech resumed her position.

I don't think she was pleased because she started pushing on my kidney. I think it was my kidney as that is the spot she was just ultrasounding a few minutes ago. Now I know if you push your kidneys, liquid will get into your bladder quicker! It is true, you are never too old to learn.

The tech actually started to yawn. Apparently my body was boring her. I felt offended in some odd way. She pushed a few more times on my kidneys and then something must have happened as she was busy moving the ultrasound thingy around my gutt and clicking on the machine.

She grabbed a towel and wiped my stomach to get rid of the ultrasound goop and declared me "finished."

I asked if she saw anything suspicious. She answered, "Your tests look almost exactly like the one done last year."

I had this test done before? Just last year? Why don't I remember this? And why do I have this urgent sensation that I have to pee?

It's annoying and somewhat exasberating to grow old and lose your short term memory. I had this ultrasound experience last year and I truly do not remember going through it. Obviously I must have had a full bladder back then as I think I would have remembered if I had to suck down two Big Gulps full of water in 30 seconds.

Today I got the phone call from the doctor's office that my ultrasound results came back. I was ready to hear "you have 20 kidney stones." I was prepared. Bring it on. But the nurse said, "Everything looked normal. You are good to go for another year."

My thoughts are if you have two tests done back to back years and the results are negative, you don't need a third strike to know you are out. I think I will accept my two ultrasounds as an indication that my bladder and both my kidneys are just fine.

And I don't plan on ordering a Big Gulp from Hardee's any time soon.

Safari hot

It's Iowa. In summer. For those that live in Iowa, you know of what I speak. Those of you in Arizona or Texas, where you have a "dry" heat, you don't know what hot is. But this is the weather you dream about in mid-January if you live in the snowbelt.

Iowa is the queen of humidity. MN is a close second, but I think Iowa reigns supreme.

It has been 90 degrees on the temperature gauge and 90 percent humidity on the wetness gauge. I have my own humidity index. When it gets overly humid, my natural wavy hair gets O U T T A C O N T R O L. I'm talking about a white woman's afro, sister. Forget the comb, find the hot blue hair pick you bought in 1972. Thankfully you are a pack rat and never throw anything "useful" away.

Sporting a pair of jersey short/shorts and a tshirt I would never wear in public, I am ready to tackle today and the heat.

My job today is to print magnets for a local art store. I turn on the printer and the press. The press is a huge heat press that I have to heat openly to 200 degrees. The press makes a lot of clinking noises as it heats up. It sounds like my late father when he used to make a sucking noise with the side of his mouth. Loud, obnoxious, and for no purpose.

I print out the magnet images and ready to press to the metal magnets. I step in the room with the heat press and realize that the press is sucking all the cool air out of the room and this room is literally smokin' hot!! I could feel my bangs begin to curl. I pressed the magnets and they turned out remarkable! Turn off the heat press and close the room door hoping the heat will stay confined in that one room.

Time to run some errands, so I hop in my jo-mobile aka Toyta and head for Borders. The third in the series of Lizabeth Salander books is out and I am so hooked on this series that I must have the last novel hot off the shelf. I have the windows down and the wind is moving through the car yet it is IOWA SAFARI HOT so I turn on the a.c. Yes, with the windows down. My husband would kill me. But I'm hot and it's just a short trip to the mall.

I get into Borders and realize that I am still dressed in my Daisy Dukes and wife beater shirt. Swell. And now my whole head of hair is curled and wind blown. A complete and utter fashionista, am I.

And I can't find the book I want. I am slithering through the book racks making sure I don't see anybody I know yet trying to find my book, my treasure, my prize.

Honestly, where the hell is this book??? I know it's out as I had the release date circled on my internal calendar.

Ever notice on hot HOT days, the mall is packed? The summer heat gets Iowa sofa sitters to the mall where they sit in the mall sofas basking in the cool air conditioning.

I walk literally every aisle in Borders and still cannot find my book. It is time. I must ask for help. Gulp.

There is the cute skinny girl who must be on college summer break wandering around asking people if they need help. I don't need help from HER. Another employee is a overweight man that is sweating profusely just by walking. Don't need help from HIM either. There. I see her. The elderly woman that reeks LIBRARIAN. I practically mow her down.

"I need help."

"What can I do for you?"

"I am trying to find the new book out on Lizabeth Salander."

"Oh, that's up in the front of the store."

Oh gawd. In the FRONT of the store? Where everyone congregates and chats with other mall shoppers? That in the front of the store?

"Follow me."

I try to glue myself to her behind. She's a little hunched over and moves like a turtle. It had to have taken 10 minutes to walk 50 feet. I follow her closely and keep my gaze down. Must not make eye contact. I am invisible.

"Here is the display of the book you want."

"Thank you..." Now go away.

She instead stands there and proceeds to hold out a book to me and tells me how she too has read all the previous books in the series and blah blah blah. Is her voice getting louder as she gets excited about telling me about the series?? No need to sell me, lady, I am already sold.

People actually start to gather round her.

GIVE ME THE FRICKING BOOK!!

I smile and grab the book out of her hand and return to my aisle hopping to get to the check out. I look at the line at the register and it's 10 deep. Where did these people come from? Go home readers.

Mustering up the courage I stand in line with my short shorts and clinging tshirt with my bra straps showing to buy the book.

This book had better be worth it. I am engulfed in staring at the book in my hand. Make no eye contact.

The check out guy is a yakker. Proceeds to ask me about other books he is promoting. "Have you read......" YES, I HAVE READ EVERY STINKING BOOK AT BORDERS. Just check me out...

Finally got my 40% discount and off I slither to my jo-mobile. Still have the air on with the windows wide open.

Get home and become a sofa sitter. The overhead fan is whirling and ready for take off and the box fan of 20 years is humming.

Yup, it's hot in Iowa. But I have a diet coke in hand and ready to start reading.

Ever notice it's not as hot if you sit perfectly still.

Maybe tomorrow I'll turn on the house a.c. ;-)

Tight Squeeze

A friend told me about women's body suits. They are a girdle for your body.

I tried on my mother of the bride dress the other day and it was not pretty. I could zip up the back but it was snug. As a squished bug. One Macarena dance and the dress may split due to the flab pressure.

The word "diet" isn't in my dictionary. Diets are for fat people. I am just a little plump. I blame age. Actually I blame alot of things on age.

Today I had a free afternoon. Why not try on some of these miracle wonder body suits. Off to Younkers I go. I used to think that Younkers was where gray hairs went to shop. Yet here I am amongst them. I tell myself to think young.

I grabbed a beige color full body suit. Need strapless so that was more of a challenge. $52. Fifty Two dollars to make me appear two sizes smaller. Bargain.

This contraption was unbelievably hard to put on. It had a snap crotch like the old body suits of the 60's. I didn't know whether to step into the suit or put it on over my head. Over the head won. The suit is now stuck all bunched up at my neck. But I am determined to get this thing ON. I started pulling the spandex. Got it half ways over my boobs and I lost the lower part of the suit. Where is the crotch snap? I have no clue.

I tug and tug and now the suit is bunched at my waist. I see the cups for the boobs, and pull that up. I'm starting to sweat which does not help with the easy on fit.

You have GOT to be kidding!! It's twisted. I am now getting annoyed. $52 isn't worth all this aggrevation!

Finally got the cups where they were suppose to be but the crotch snaps are caught in the back of the suit. I don't even know how that is possible.

I have GOT TO GET OUT OF THIS THING ... NOW. I'm starting to get a hot flash!

I bend over and try to pull it back over my head. Not happening. Not even moving.

Off go the cups and I have to give it all that I had to pull the cups back to the waist. There it sits.

I stare at the full length mirror with a body suit wrapped around my waist. How am I going to get this OFF?

Thought about getting the salesperson but how? Scream from the dressing room? HELP! I'M BUCK NAKED AND I AM STUCK IN A TOO SMALL BODY SUIT. I don't think so.

Only one option left. Pull the damn suit DOWN over my hips. I don't care if I have to rip the suit to get it down, but this thing is COMING off....NOW.

Suck it in. Pull. Squirm. Pull. Wiggle. Pull. More squirming, more wiggling.

Over the butt, down the upper thighs. Finally the "thing" is around my ankles. It is dead. It tried to devour me, but I fought the battle and conquered the suit.

So much for the body suit idea.

I left the corpse of the body suit in the dressing room and went searching for a different "style."

Found an old fashioned corset. Hey! This might just do the trick.

Back to a different dressing room and off goes my shirt and bra. The back of the corset has about 25 hook and eyes so naturally I have to hook them all in front and then spin the corset around to fit.

I got about 10 hooks done and began to wonder how this is going to spin around? The tag on the corset says "Stays snuggly in place."

Well that's all fine and dandy, but how do you get it on facing the right way? Now I know why Scarlet had Mammie tie her corset. This is a two person job.

I continued hooking the eyes and pulled the corset to spin it to the front. Ain't happening. It is snuggly in place. I look in the full length mirror and I look like the hunch back of Notre Dame as the cups are on my upper back.

Off it goes. On the floor. Dead.

One more time I search the racks and I find a body suit that looks like a track running suit. With little shorts instead of a snapped crotch. GREAT! I can actually step into this and pull it up!

Into dressing room #3. Off go the clothes and I step into this black track outfit. And I pull. The top is moving up but the shorts are still at my ankles. The crotch is at my knees. And the cups are 12 inches shorter than where they should be.

I pull and I twist and I wiggle once again. Got the thing on and I am STUFFED like a Thanksgiving turkey. I can't even move. Everything is tucked in nicely but I cannot sit, I cannot walk. I am an immobile bulging bunch of spandex.

I'm done. That's enough of that. I don't know who these body suits were made for, but it's not me. I struggle to climb out of the track suit and leave another undergarment corpse behind.

Solution: Wear the dress and let the fat rolls be natural but do not dance the Macarena.

Home Remedies

I dyed my hair. And instead of it coming out "light golden brown" it came out "DARK AS MOLASSES."

Standing in front of the aisle of hair color in the store, I chose my color carefully. I studied all the boxes practically one by one. Many boxes bragged on "no brassy tones." Some even said 100% gray coverage. But I always look at the girls on the front of the boxes. Which one of these girls has the color I want. Should be that simple.

"Light golden brown...100% gray coverage.... nice and easy." That's for me!

Who has time for hair testing like the box recommends? Get on the gloves, prepare the mixture, slop on hair. Wait.

Hop in the shower, rinse. Towel dry and WALA. Magically appear Light Golden Brown.

Nope. I have Hot Fudge Chocolate. On my head.

So what does one do? Go to the internet where all questions have answers. I type in "How to lighten hair dyed too dark."

And there are the answers!

#1. Wash hair with Dawn dishwashing liquid. Can you believe that I actually HAVE Dawn under my sink? Back in the shower and I'm lathering with Dawn. I should have brought in a few dirty glasses and I could have been multi-tasking. I lather in the Dawn and leave it in a little longer thinking this would lighten my hair even more.
Out of the shower, towel off and WALA. Hot Fudge Chocolate.

#2. Make a paste with Olive Oil and Mayonnaise. Just use a few drops of Mayonnaise and leave on 20 minutes. First off, does Mayonnaise come in drop form? Or do I drop it like dropping cookie dough on the cookie tray? But I have both of these ingredients in my pantry. Make a paste. First attempt I used too much oil and the mayonnaise didn't gel with the oil. Toss. Second attempt, used less oil and a "drop" or two of Hellmann's. Back in the shower and slop on the paste. Towel off and let the paste do it's magic. Shouldn't I see the color lifting? Maybe it will come off when I wash this gook outta my hair. Patiently wait 20 minutes, BACK in the shower and wash off. Towel off (I am now on my third towel) and WALA. Hot Fudge Chocolate.

#3. Use Lemon Juice. But I also read this should be used on blonde hair and if you have brunette hair, it MIGHT turn your hair orange. Orange with hot fudge? Visions of orange tootsie pop jumped in my brain. I don't think so. Plus I remember doing this when I was in high school when it was fashionable to sit in the sun and let the lemon juice highlight your hair naturally. It didn't work then either.

#4. Tide detergent. Yup, wash your hair with Tide. Reminds me of my dad's joke... why do people wash their clothes intide? Cause it's too cold outtide. But I don't have Tide detergent. Tide isn't good for septic tanks. I don't think it would be too good for my hair.

So there you have it. I have Hot Fudge Chocolate Hair that smells like Dawn with a touch of mayonnaise. And I can't remember the last time I took 4 showers in one afternoon.

Plus side tho is the rest of my body has a clean soft feeling from the Olive Oil. Hair's a little damaged tho...

Is it wrong

Is it wrong to bump into a former co-worker and hear about how horrible the working conditions remain, and smile?

This morning I was delivering mail to a physician during my hospital hours and heard a voice behind me. "Hi there stranger." I turn around and see a man I used to work with. It was so great to see him! He was one of the "good guys." Treated me nice, always had something positive to say to me. We used to talk about American Idol together. I miss that.

I hadn't seen him for about a year. I asked him how things were going at the former company. Apparently things hadn't changed. At all. Or maybe they had changed but it wasn't for the better. It's funny how some things just don't change.

And all the way this man was talking, I was smiling. Knowing that I wasn't there anymore. No longer subjected to the low staff morale which is very depressing. No longer working in a environment that was not nuturing or inviting. I had broken away. It was a tough decision back then and part of me had felt like a failure. But I knew I had to break away before I was broken myself.

Today, I was dressed in lovely black skirt and white blouse with my click click heels on. I looked and felt professional. "Tell everyone I am doing great" I said. My former co-worker said, "And you look great."

I know it was wrong but I couldn't help it. I had escaped a poorly managed company and I didn't feel one bit of regret or sadness when I saw my former co-worker. I actually felt good about myself. I walked back to the administrative offices with my chin up and with a big smile.

This chance meeting was closure for me. I have moved on. To better places with wonderful co-workers and managers. Plus my boss told me earlier this morning that I "amazed" him. Today I feel truly blessed.

A shoe

I went to Mpls this past weekend to get out of town for a few days. I was in a hurry to get on the road and I packed very quickly. Packing can be done in 10 minutes if need be. I threw on a pair of capris and some flip flops and started my road trip.

There is just something about driving that I enjoy. Maybe it's a control thing that I like mastering the automobile. Maybe it's just leaving all the troubles behind and looking forward to a new adventure. Or maybe it's just singing on the top of my lungs to Adam Lambert and nobody is there to complain.

The weather is always a little cooler in MN than Iowa. That 5 hours does make a 10 degree difference. I'm glad I packed some socks and tennies, and long pants, which I wore the next day.

I had a nice visit with my mother and sister. We went non-stop. I love to spend my sister's money and she was looking for a table for her living room. No bargain shopping for her! We went to thee nicest furniture stores in the suburbs. The kind where the salespeople look you over before asking if you need help.

We must have walked for miles when my left shoe started to rub. I looked down at my tennies and was aghast! I had on two different tennis shoes!! How could this be? Wasn't I the one that actually put on these shoes myself this morning? How could I not see that they were different!! And I'm not talking about a subtle difference. One was pure white and the other was white with navy accents!!

I stood there. In the fancy furniture store. In Minneapolis staring at my shoes. I looked at my sister and mother and just pointed down.

Ya gotta love family. My sister says, "Well, isn't THAT attractive!" My mother proceeds to tell me the time SHE wore different shoes to church...... Apparently, the apple didn't fall far from the tree. I am still staring at my shoes. Embarrassed to be me.

I had no other shoes except my flip flops which were miles away in my suitcase. I was stuck with unmatched shoes for the rest of the day. And of course, now that I knew my shoes were not matching, I felt I had a funny gait to my walk. And that everyone was snickering behind my back saying "Did you see that old lady? Do you think she doesn't know she has on two different shoes?"

But then I decided I was a fashionista! I was making a fashion statement. Anyone can wear matching shoes! But to be so confident, so novel, so inventive as to wear two different tennies was just, well, down right daring!!

So to all of you that have worn unmatched socks, unmatched gloves, unmatched earrings, I join you proudly. We are the ones that set the curve. As my father used to say, "People are going to talk about you. At least give them something to talk about!!"

Sniff

ED stands for Emergency Department
ER stands for Emergency Room
DR stands for Physician.
And I needed them all! STAT!

When you get a head cold you know the symptoms. First the sneezing. You are going along in life and BAM "sneeze". You think to yourself "Where did that come from?" And then another "sneeze." Somehow I can never sneeze just one sneeze. Mine always come in twos.

Then you get the dreaded drips. This is when your nose becomes a faucet. You are blowing your nose every 24 seconds. Right when you think all the liquid is out of your nostrils, you feel another drip coming. Soon you are just holding a tissue under your nose knowing that the drips will not stop. But you get tired of holding the tissue so this is when you get creative. You find a tissue corner, twist it just so and shove that twisted section up your nose. And you walk around with the rest of the tissue just hanging from your nose. I think someone should invent the nostril tampon. This would be used during the "drip" portion of the head cold. And it can come in several sizes, thin, normal or super absorbant. All depending on the size of your nose and the severity of the drip.

After the "drips" comes the "clog." You cannot breathe at all through your nose. I figure by this stage you have blown everything out of nose and there is nothing left. Like the dry heaves. This stage is when you actually put drips BACK in your nose by the use of a nose spray. I always, never fails, squirt that nose spray before it is in my nostril and it gets in my eyes. And then there are times when you only have one or two good sprays left and you test it to see if there is anything left in the bottle. That's a waste of a good spray. I have been known, in desperate times, to lean my head back and pray there is SOMETHING, ANYTHING left in the bottle for just one more spray. And the bottle says not to use more than 1 time every 4 hours. Forget that. I am spraying 4 times every hour!! I gotta breathe!

Usually at this point in a head cold you are on the mend. Gotta rough it out for another day or two but soon you will be breathing on your own. You no longer have to sleep on your left side for your left nostril to open up.

But there is a chance your headache may have just been a warning that something even darker was looming in your head. A sinus infection.

Anyone that has experienced a sinus infection knows what I mean when I say, "They are pure evil!" Eveything in your face hurts. And you blow crap out of your nose that God never intended you to see. And that crap actually weighs something. You can feel it fill up your tissue. How gross.

It was at this point where I did the foolish. I ODed on my cold tablets, cough syrup, migraine medication. I couldn't remember what I took, when I took it last or how much I took. So I just retook it all. All I wanted to do was breathe and not have my head pound.

So now add nauseau to the recipe. I couldn't lift my head off the pillow cause I was so dizzy, the wet wash cloth by now which was laying on my forehead was warm. I was surrounded by used tissue which I quickly ran out of and now was using a roll of toilet paper.

I knew I was in deep yogurt and out of my own comfort zone. Pat took me to the ER and I flopped on an examining room and didn't move. My head was pounding, my nose was peeling where it was just too sore to even blow anymore. I hadn't combed my hair in 2 days and my toothbrush hadn't been touched in the same number of days. I just layed there.

My ER doctor was Dr. Perea and he is now my favorite hero. He had a "trainee" PA with him so I was getting double treatment. My ears were plugged too and I couldn't hear a thing. I have no idea what the doctor was asking me. And I didn't care. I just said, "My head hurts. Please make it go away."

After an hour of IV fluids and whatever else was in the IV, I was starting to feel better. Pat had found the tv remote so he was happy clicking the different channels in the room.

Three hours later I was released from the ER. I was a little dizzy yet from the migraine but I was hungry. That's always a good sign.

I have narcotics now for the headache pain, amoxicillin for the sinus infection/bronchitis and on my second roll of toilet paper. I still need to hold a pillow against my chest when I cough, but I'm not coughing as much.

"A summer cold is a different animal." That was the slogan of a cold medication back in the 60's. And how very true it is.