She’s wearing (gasp) pantyhose?

English: A picture of women’s legs in pantyhose (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 I wrote this post in July of 2011.  It’s the most popular post I’ve ever published, still getting views and  comments more than two years later (must have done something right with the old SEO and I didn’t even know it).  I thought I’d share it again for those of you who weren’t around back then…hey, I understand it’s way too much trouble to scroll back through over 600 posts looking for a gem or two.  Anyhow, I’ve seen other bloggers do this and asked myself, “why not?”.  And if you have time, read through some of the comments…I think some people just didn’t get my wonderfully witty musings…but I’ll take the blame for that, I should have been more straightforward…you know, something like “sarcasm ahead”…I’ll remember that in the future.  So…here’s the original, unaltered post:

Okay, I am most definitely not a fashionista.  I don’t follow the trends.   Very rarely, do I even read about fashion.  I would much rather be comfortable than be some kind of fashion icon (uh, yeah, like there’s a chance that’ll ever happen).  So I was quite shocked to see all the buzz about Kate Middleton (you know, the chick that married her prince) wearing pantyhose.  Apparently, pantyhose had become so last year that people were surprised to see a future princess wearing them.  Really?  So  pantyhose went out of vogue while I had my back turned?  How could I have missed this?

I have to admit, I’m not much of a dress wearer…couldn’t actually tell you the last time I wore a dress.  But if something came up and I was forced to wear a dress (and that would have to be a whole lot of force for that to happen), I can’t imagine that I wouldn’t wear pantyhose.  Have you seen how white my legs are?  (Ha, of course you haven’t.)  That would not be a pretty sight with a dress.  I never liked wearing pantyhose.  They’re a struggle to get on, they’re not especially comfortable, you can ruin them in a split second, and you can spend a lot of money on them if you wear them frequently.  However, pantyhose do make your legs look better (and if you’re one of those girls with naturally tan, toned legs…well, just keep your mouth shut, would you?), and I always thought they kind of added the finishing touch to your dressy dresses.   You might ask how someone who is a self-declared fashion idiot could dare to challenge all of the modern fashion mavens, and you’d be right to do so…what do I know?  But now, there is a future princess taking on the fashion elite, bringing pantyhose back in style.  Wait!  Why should that make me happy?  I hate pantyhose.

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Candy canes…not just for Christmas

Peppermint candy cane on my scanner (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I was browsing Amazon earlier today.  Thought I’d look at candy (for the children, people, for the children).  I don’t know if you can get better deals on Amazon for candy.  Right now, with Halloween just around the corner, you can find some pretty good bargains in your local stores.  But while perusing the sweets, I found some pretty amazing treats.

Did you know they sell violet flavored candy?  Or rose flavored candy?  I’m assuming they taste like the flowers.  Come on, don’t turn up your nose.  I made lavender jelly once using lavender buds I’d grown myself and it was awesome.  The candy is probably equally as tasty.

Then there are various candies from Mexico, Greece, Brazil, Japan, and so on.  Not being much of a world traveler, I hadn’t heard of any of them.  And I wasn’t feeling all that adventurous so didn’t order any of them either.  But it was interesting to read about them.  No, I wasn’t bored.  I was doing research.

The candy that made my mouth drop open was the, oh, how shall I say this,  interesting flavors of candy canes.  Yep, you know those red and white striped confections shaped like a cane that you find everywhere at Christmas time?  Well, there are some unusual flavors out there. The thought of eating the pickle-flavored candy cane actually made my jaw ache.  And then there was the bacon-flavored candy cane.  Really, I’m not making this up.  I know a lot of you love, love, love bacon.  But a candy cane that tastes like bacon?  Wow.  Check it out for yourself…heck, go ahead and order it and let everyone know what it tastes like.

http://www.amazon.com/Accoutrements-12192-Bacon-Flavored-Candy/dp/B005OL1Q8K/ref=sr_1_7?ie=UTF8&qid=1379116521&sr=8-7&keywords=candy+canes

So, I guess it’s safe to say that candy canes aren’t just for Christmas any more.

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Dazed and confused…adventures in medicine

Old hospital (Photo credit: urbanlegend)

Seems to be my permanent state right now…confusion.  I lose track of what I’m saying when I’m trying to talk to someone (who knows what my writing is like…I reread it multiple times and am still not absolutely certain that I’m making sense, so…if you can’t figure out what I’m talking about, now I have an excuse), I can’t remember what I’m supposed to be doing (thank goodness for lists…just write it down when I think about it), and the date?  Oh my!  The date, even with the date displayed prominently on my computer and  calendars all over the place, I still can’t keep the days straight.

And today exemplified that.  I had a doctor’s appointment with a pulmonologist today.  I’ve had the paper my doctor’s office gave me, with the info, on my fridge since my last appointment so I wouldn’t forget it.  I woke up feeling pretty awful, wishing I didn’t have to go see a doctor today, but knowing that I did.  So I eventually got ready and left in plenty of time to arrive early enough to find my way to the office.  You know how it is when you go into these big buildings and don’t know your way around, right?  So I knew I was going to have to stop and ask for directions and then find my way to pulmonology.  No big deal.

I stopped at the desk right inside the entrance and asked the lady there where I could find this particular doctor.  She looked at my paper (the one they gave me last week at my doctor’s office) and told me I was in the wrong building, would have to go out and drive over to the next drive and go in that building.  Well, okay.  I walked back out to my car feeling more than a little confused.  The next building over is where my doctor’s practice is.  I was pretty sure (even in my confused state) that the specialist I was supposed to see wasn’t in the same building as my doctor.

So I called my doctor’s office and spoke with one of the receptionists.  She laughed about it and said that lady must have been confused…there is a Doctor Trueblood in their practice, but she is definitely not a pulmonologist.  So I told her where I was and she said I was in the right place, that she didn’t know exactly where the pulmonology department was but she was pretty sure it was upstairs.

Alright, I walk back into the building, stop and ask the same lady where the pulmonology department  is.  She tells me to take the elevator upstairs and then she points down the hall and says I need to go all the way to the end of that hall.  I find the elevator, go upstairs and start in the direction pointed out for me.  Then I stop and look at the department listings and arrows.  Hmm…if I do what the lady downstairs says I’m headed in a different direction than if I follow these little arrows.  How about we try the arrows?

That just might be the only good decision I’ve made all day.  I walked right to where I needed to go and stopped at the desk to let them know I was there for my appointment.  The very nice lady there looked it up on the computer then looked at me.  She said, “Well, unfortunately your appointment’s for tomorrow.”  And she apologized…like it was her fault that I’m a dork.  And to compound how goofy I must have seemed, I asked her what today’s date was.  She told me it’s the 7th…hmm…the little paper in my hand tells me my appointment is scheduled for the 8th…what do you know?  She’s right and I’m crazy.  So I thanked her and told her I’d see her tomorrow.

I guess a couple of good things came out of this…now I know where I need to go tomorrow…and the lady at the pulmonology department desk will have a funny story to tell her co-workers and family…

I’m telling you, all of these drugs I’ve been on have to be messing with my mind…or am I confused about that?

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Jeopardy online test

Watson, Ken Jennings, and Brad Rutter in their Jeopardy! exhibition match. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Oh my gosh…I just signed up to take the online test to be a contestant on Jeopardy!!  I’ve watched that show for years…always thought I could be a contestant, maybe better than about half of the contestants that make it onto the show.  While watching tonight, Alex mentioned the upcoming online test and I rushed right over to my computer and logged on, completed the registration process and now…who knows?  Will I be the next Ken Jennings?  Yeah, probably not…that guy was awesome!  But anyhow…I think it’s kind of exciting.

While reading about the test, I found out that you have 50 questions with 15 seconds allowed for each question…simple, right?  Well…I suppose it depends on the categories. On tonight’s show, I had no clue about any of the music questions and I’m usually pretty good with those.  Movies?  Not so much.  History, politics, spelling, grammar, science…yeah, I like those categories.  Sports? Maybe, depends…if it’s, you know, yachting or cricket, I’d be sunk…basketball, football, I’d have a chance.

Am I going to study?  Nah…never did a lot of studying even when I was in school…got a brain like a steel trap…might be a little rusty now though.  But I guarantee I’d do some major studying if I happened to be lucky enough to be chosen as a contestant.

Anyhow, just wanted to share my exciting news…do, do, do, do, do, do, do…admit it, you were humming along there!

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Do you know what two weeks from today is?

Santa Claus (Photo credit: Natashenka)

That’s right, boys and girls…in two short weeks it’ll be Christmas Eve.  Yes indeedy, the night that jolly old Saint Nick makes his rounds and rewards those of us who have been good with nifty gifts!  What?  You don’t know what I’m excited about?  What?  I haven’t been all that good this year?  What are you saying?  You think the big guy won’t be stopping at my house this year?  Well, I just…I…I don’t know what to say.  No visit from Santa?  No gifts?  Really?  Well…I’m feeling a bit distraught about this.  I tried to be good.  Doesn’t that count for something?  I mean, I was always told that honest effort meant something.  Are you telling me that Santa doesn’t care about how hard you try?  Only about whether or not you succeed?  Somehow that doesn’t seem quite right.  Shouldn’t he be a bit more forgiving and compassionate?

But wait!  I know Santa will come down my chimney…I just know it.  For one thing, he loves my cookies and I always leave him enough cookies to take back home to share with Mrs. Claus and those creepy elves.  And he always loves to stop and scratch Spooky’s head.  And now that I have Scout too…well, I’m absolutely certain that he won’t be able to stay away.  And he will so bring me some gifts.  I know he will.  And do you know how I know it?  That’s right.  I remember the year my good friend Chris was a very bad boy and he still got lots and lots of presents from Santa.

So…two weeks from tonight I’m going to go to bed early, dreaming about dancing sugar plums (whatever those are), and listening to hear reindeer hooves tapping on my roof.  And when I wake up, I’ll run down the stairs and be so thankful for all the gifts I have in my life.  Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!

 

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Scary stories

Michael Myers (Halloween) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

So…since it’s so close to Halloween, I’ve been thinking about how we used to tell scary stories when I was a kid.  Seems like they were usually set in either a cemetery or on a dark deserted road.  You know…the boy and girl in the back seat of the car, getting a little hot and heavy, the windows all steamed up when suddenly…then take your pick…either the scary guy with a chain saw or an axe a)breaks through the windshield, b) saws through the roof, c) pops up outside the door window and whacks his way into the car…then of course, he kills the boy while the girl screams hysterically.  Yeah, maybe it seemed scary when we were kids…not so much now though, does it?

How about the girl (or girls) entering the dark house calling out for the boy she’s supposed to meet there.  Oh no!  Scary guy has already killed boy and his body is a) hanging from the shower head, throat cut, blood drip, drip, dripping in the tub, b) hanging on the back of a door, a knife run through his chest holding him to the door, c) down in the basement while his head is on the top shelf of the refrigerator just waiting for said girl to open the door and find it so she can scream hysterically.

Or girl and guy have been making out in a cemetery…argument ensues…boy drives off in a huff, wheels screeching, dust obscuring the car from view.  Girl sits in cemetery for a while, angry but certain boy will come back.  When she finally decides he’s a big jerk and isn’t going to come back for her, she a) starts making her way out of the cemetery, hears footsteps behind her, starts running while looking back over her shoulder, trips over a tombstone then screams hysterically while cowering on the ground waiting on scary guy to attack her, b) stumbles around cemetery trying to find her way out (I never said she was smart)…makes her way through the moss hanging from big scary tree only to have creepy, half-rotted hand pop up out of the ground to wrap itself around her ankle, girl falls down and screams hysterically, or c)  girl makes her way out of cemetery, walks back toward town along dark deserted road, sees boy’s car parked in middle of road waiting for her, she angrily walks up to passenger side door, jerks it open, sees boy sitting in driver’s seat , the tines of a big pitchfork run through his chest, girl screams hysterically.

I could never really relate to those girls…all that screaming gave me a headache, even when I was a teenager.  What’s with this waiting around for someone to attack you?  How about you find a weapon and pound the scary guy’s head in?  Yeah, okay…in the movies you can’t really kill those scary guys (Michael Myers comes to mind), but trying sure beats waiting around and screaming hysterically, don’tcha think?  Are you scared now?

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What do your dreams mean?

Canterbury Flats, St Kilda (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Haven’t you ever wondered that?  Especially after you wake up and remember a wild and crazy dream that has no basis in reality?  You can’t figure out why you had that particular dream or what it means.  I don’t know, maybe there isn’t any meaning at all in our dreams, but I’ve always kind of felt that they were somehow our subconscious talking to us.  But then, folks have told me I’m crazy, so who knows?

Anyhow, last night (after a day of feeling sick) I had one of those dreams that don’t seem to make much sense at all.  For some reason, I was spending the night in a young guy’s apartment (alright now, stop thinking like that…he wasn’t there…and maybe was never coming back…can’t really remember that part of it).  I was thinking about moving in to his apartment and leaving my townhouse.  The only problem (well, one of the problems) with that was that his apartment was not even a studio apartment…just a tiny living space and a shower…the toilet was in a shared hall…not even in a room!  I could have fit his entire living space in my kitchen…and still was considering moving there.

I did consider the cats, how they would adapt to such a small living space when they’re used to two stories, stairs that they can run up and down, lots of rooms where they can sleep in the sunshine all day long.  I considered them, but apparently not much…I was still thinking of moving in there.

He also had no kitchen, just a microwave…come to think of it, I didn’t even see a refrigerator…yeah, that would work!

I was going to keep his furniture…let’s see…a black and chrome oversized chair and a chrome table for the computer…that was pretty much it…and even that was a tight squeeze.

So…why in the world would I have this dream?  What’s the significance of the move?  Especially the move to such a tiny space?  Who knows?  Maybe I’m feeling hemmed in by the stress in my life…or maybe I’m being told I need to downsize…or maybe this didn’t mean anything at all?  Hmm…I think that’s the one I’m going with…I’m feeling claustrophobic at the thought of living in a closet with two cats…

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I have an addiction…

nail polish collection (Photo credit: daftgirly)

…yep, I’m going to come clean today.  I have a serious addiction that I’ve been putting off dealing with.  I’m not really sure how it happened, how I got into this mess…but maybe that’s how most addictions start.  At first it’s just one little thing…one little thing that seemed to bring you joy.  That one thing didn’t really cost you much and didn’t seem to do any harm.

Then you found yourself taking another step or two down that dangerous road without giving it any thought.  No big deal, right?  Just enjoy yourself, life is difficult enough and filled with stress..anything you can find to alleviate that can’t be bad…or can it?

Is it a bad thing when you find yourself dreaming about your next fix?  When you notice everyone else who seems to crave what you crave?  When you find yourself discussing how it makes you feel so much better?  That’s when it hit me…this isn’t normal…and it can’t possibly be good for me.  Then the disbelief strikes…how in the world did I get myself into this?  And how in the world am I going to escape the clutches of my addiction?  Can I go cold-turkey?  It just doesn’t seem possible at this point in time.

I feel such shame…why do I have to own (and use) every single shade of nail polish ever created???

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ER

English: Emergency Room NYC (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Ahh, yes…the ER..the place we all love to visit and then can’t seem to manage to escape in a reasonable amount of time!!  That’s where I spent the night last night.  Wait, wait…not for any emergency for myself, but for a friend.  I remember it as though it were just last night (that’s because it was)…

I had gone to bed early since my vacation was over and I had to be at work at 7 am.  The phone rang at 11:33 pm.  Don’t you hate it when the phone startles you from a sound sleep?  It’s never good news…no one is calling you to tell you that you’ve won a million dollars, or that your latest book just hit #1 on the New York Times best sellers list, or to ask if you want to accompany that hot,  sexy guy on a trip to the Bahamas.  Nope, a phone call in the middle of the night is never good news.  And last night was no different.

When I groggily answered the phone, I was greeted with, “I think I’m having a heart attack.”  Those words are pretty much guaranteed to wake you right up.  My wonderfully alert response was, “Paul, is that you?”  Hey, you can’t pull one over on me even in the middle of the night.

It was indeed Paul and he repeated that he thought he was having a heart attack.  Then he asked, “Do you think you could come over?”  Okay, I am so not a doctor, not a nurse, not a paramedic, I don’t even do medical transcription…so the thought did occur to me, what the heck does he think I can do?  I was pretty proud of myself that I didn’t scream that out though.  Instead, I very calmly asked, “Don’t you think you should maybe call an ambulance?  Like maybe 911?”

Well, no.  He didn’t want to call an ambulance (Paul, if you’re reading this, I love you…but this probably wasn’t your finest moment)…what if he wasn’t having a heart attack?  He didn’t want to be embarrassed.  This is when I threw my hands in the air and yelled, “But what if you are having a heart attack and we’re arguing about whether or not you should call 911?”

Then of course, I hear, “Please, please, couldn’t you just come over?”  Aww…jeez…are you kidding me?  You better really be sick, buddy or I’m going to have to hurt you!  Did I say that?  Of course not, not me.  I said, “Let me get dressed, I’ll be right there.”  Then I made him promise to call 911 if it got worse.  As I’m putting my contacts in (believe me, I probably would have caused an accident had I not done that), I’m wondering what I should wear…wait!  What?  Like there’s some kind of proper attire for a possible heart attack???  Alright, alright…throw whatever on, grab my purse and keys, and high tail it over there.

I walk in and he’s half sitting, half lying on the couch…not looking so good, kind of sweaty, chest hurting.  So I say, “Paul, you don’t look all that good.  How about we make a little trip to the emergency room?”

And then I have to listen to, “I don’t really want to go to the emergency room.  I’ll be there forever.”

Uh..dude, listen to me.  I don’t want to sit here and watch you die…the paperwork on that one would be unbelievable.  So, I finally convince him to let me drive him over there…insurance card?  ID?  Medical info?  Shoes?  Let’s go.

And then we walk in…do you have any idea how many people there are in the ER in the middle of the night?  Yeah, I didn’t either.  Just take my word for it, there are a lot of folks hanging out there.  When they find out he’s possibly having a heart attack, they jump him to the front of the line….in front of the chick with the cut finger (seriously, girl?  Slap a band-aid on that.  Don’t be wasting everyone’s time with that piddly thing.), in front of the guy with the cold (yeah…really), even in front of the elderly guy who seemed to not know who he was.  Of course, while he’s in there with doctors and nurses, I’m left out there with all of these sick people…fun times!!

Finally, after what seemed like about two days, but was really only a few hours, Paul comes back out from behind the curtain (I couldn’t resist that imagery…it was really a door, but a curtain just seemed so much more ER like), heart attack free.  I’m not sure whether to be relieved that he didn’t have a heart attack or mad that he got me out in the middle of the night on a false alarm.  Okay, okay…I’m relieved…really.

I take him home, we sit there for a while talking.  I pull a promise from him…he will call his doctor in the morning and get an appointment so they can find out exactly what did happen.  Yeah, it wasn’t a heart attack, but it was something, right?  I finally make it back home at about 4:45 am…think about how I have to be at work at 7 am and debate with myself whether or not to call in.  Finally, the exhausted, emotionally drained part of me wins out and I call my poor boss to let him know that I’m going to take a personal day.  Got a kind of funny response from him when I told him I’d spent the night in the ER…

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Thank the Lord (and Al Gore) fer that newfangled internet thing…

English: www,domain,internet,web,net (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Yes indeedy, this here world wide web thang is mighty handy!  Why I don’t know if most of y’all ‘members havin’ to go down to the BMV and spend half a yer day thar waitin’ to get yer new plates or not, but I surely do.  Next to havin’ to go to the lady doctor, that was the day of the year that I dreaded the most.

Now, I don’t know if y’all know this or not, but you can renew yer plates without ever havin’ to set foot in that daggone BMV place.  I raise my right hand and swear on little ole Spook’s life, I’m tellin’ ya the truth.  And it’s all ’cause a that big ole internet thang.  Fer sure!  Ya just fire up that ole computer, do a little bit a typin’, and bam!!  Ya gots yer plates all renewed, just like that!

Now I surely don’t mean to mislead ya, ya still gotta wait fer yer little ole sticker to come to ya in the mail, but that ain’t no big thang, I’m thinkin’.  Not when ya compare it to what it was like back in the olden times when ya had to sit thar on them hard old chairs just a waitin’ and waitin’ fer ’em ta call yer name. No sirree bob…when that ole Al Gore invented the big ole world wide web, well…I swan…that was one of the bestest inventions of all time…so I just wanna give a big thank ya to the man, yes indeedy!!