Really

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Our gigantic tree dropping its leaves in at least four backyards.

Several things yesterday got me saying “really?” or even “REALLY??”  It was really that kind of day.

  • We got stuck in traffic on the way to the hospital.  There is construction going on all over this city and we are running out of alternate routes.  Everyone says it will be nice when it’s done, but construction is like housework and will never be done.
  • The nurse at admitting asked me if I hadn’t already checked in because she had me marked off on her list.  Nope, just got here.  So off she went to find my impersonator.
  • Flipping through a home decor magazine I came across instructions for kitchen art. Paint some utensils white, hot glue them (artistically arranged) to a red board, put them in a frame and hang them up. On the same page there was an ad for glass cocktail wands.  So much classier than swivel sticks.  I guess.
  • The many people around me were comparing their various wait times and how far behind things were when a nurse called me to say my doctor was running ahead of schedule.  Do I know how to pick a surgeon or what?
  • Hospital garments confuse the hell out of me.  What goes frontwards and what goes backwards with a gazillion dome fasteners and ties and elastic papery things for gawd knows what.  By the time I got it all figured out we were probably back on schedule.
  • I lost count of how many people with clip boards and check sheets asked me the same questions over and over.  I think they were all planning to meet up in the O.R. later and compare notes.
  • One minute the anesthesiologist was starting my  I.V.  and the next minute it was two or three hours later and I was somewhere else.  This is what time travel must feel like.
  • On a scale of one to ten, one being discomfort and ten being the worst pain you’ve ever felt, how would you rate your pain?  I don’t know.  I hate math.  I had different levels of pain in different places – neck, throat, back, head.  I didn’t want to sound like a wimp or a whiner so I said it was a four.  Wrong answer!  No extra pain meds for you.  Next time they asked I upped it to five.  Still not high enough.  Sigh.
  • After i was declared sane enough to leave, W wheeled me down to the main entrance and left me sitting in front of the hospital directory sign while he went to get the car.  No one asked me for directions.
  • It’s impossible to keep your head still in a moving vehicle even if you hang on to it with both hands.  I suffered a thousand mini whiplashes on the drive home because we kept braking for pedestrians and red lights.  Yes I am being overly dramatic.  I believe most post op patients are.

The pain med prescription bottle says one or two tablets every four hours as needed and they gave me 30 of them.  They are supposed to cause drowsiness but I managed to have a restless night anyway.  I am supposed to leave the steri-strips in place for seven days.  They told me not to have a shower for two days.  REALLY??  That rule is already broken because our shower is hand-held and I kept my neck dry.  Fewer people will die as a result.

Now once again we wait for answers.  Follow up is in two weeks.  By then I should look less like a bus ran over my face.  Another drama queen statement.  Sorry.  I’m drowsy.  Not quite as exhausted as this topic, but close enough.

Boiled Eggs and Lettuce and Other Weird Information

I’ve seriously over-dosed on lettuce today!  Is that possible?  Does ones face turn green when that happens?  I’m afraid to look in a mirror.

There was extra spinach in my smoothie this morning because it’s on the verge of wilting and I wanted to get rid of it.  Then I used up all the already washed lettuce in the fridge, packing it into a lunch container with a few other salad type things and ate that at work this afternoon.

And when I came home from work, there was a caesar salad ready to be tossed and eaten, so guess what happened with that.  W has been making meals, and I am not going to discourage him.  I think I might try to get him to lighten up a little on the cocktails and wine though.  He already has drinks poured before I’m in the door, and while I certainly do appreciate it, and drink them down to avoid hurting his feelings, I think there’s a few too many calories involved in this practice.

There has been some serious discussion in our family about making a pilgrimage to Greece sometime next year, and riding up a mountain on a donkey.  If the donkey part of it is going to happen for me, I think shedding a few pounds is definitely necessary.  I would hate for my donkey to be the only one that doesn’t complete the journey.

So, less wine, more lettuce.  Some lovely Grecian donkey is going to thank me for this one fine day.

Also, on a completely different brain fart, FRESH EGGS WHEN THEY’RE BOILED ARE HARDER TO PEEL THAN EGGS THAT HAVE BEEN IN THE FRIDGE FOR A WEEK OR SO.  I looked this up, and my friend Laura is right.  Even though she did not grow up on a farm she knows what she’s talking about when it comes to egg boiling and peeling, unlike the person who tried to convince her the egg peeling thing was the other way around and that fresh eggs are more easily peeled.  Really.  Even someone like me who doesn’t care one way or the other knows that you don’t boil fresh eggs, you boil the old ones you’ve had hanging around in the fridge for so long you’re afraid they’ll go bad if you don’t do something with them very soon.

And once they’re boiled and peeled (try doing it under cold running water – that works for me) and mashed up with mayo into egg salad, you can make a sandwich and use up a bunch of old LETTUCE.

Sorry for all the shouting, but some things just beg to be emphasized.

Ooookay, this lettuce and alcohol diet could be the next big craze.  I’d get into anti-oxidants and electrons and free radicals and maybe even superoxide dismutase, catalase and peroxiredoxins, but I’m sorry I’ve had entirely too much wine and can’t even pronounce that shit right now.

W is loading the dishwasher and putting the leftover lettuce and wine in the fridge for tomorrow.  I feel like I’ve lost about five pounds just sitting here writing about it.

Yellow Cocktail Dreams

Galliano

Galliano (Photo credit: Rennett Stowe)

Day two of a serious yellow high.

Would you like something to drink? the waiter asks me, and I reply, Yes, please, I’ll have whatever cocktail you’ve got that’s yellow.  I’ve never said that in real life, but I’m working up the nerve to do it.

My niece, when she was four years old, asked a waiter for a pink drink.  I think adults should be able to order their beverages in the same way.

Yellow Submarine should be easy enough:  vodka, white rum, banana liqueur, in a cocktail shaker with ice.  But is it truly yellow?

Yellow Fever sounds more promising color-wise:  vodka, Galliano, pineapple juice, lemon juice, ice.

There’s also a Yellow Bird:  rum, Galliano, banana liqueur, orange juice, pineapple juice.  Notice how I’m leaving the exact amounts of each ingredient to your own discretion and imagination.  I would never try to discourage creativity.

Those concoctions remind me of a Harvey Wallbanger,  a drink I used to order all the time.  I can’t remember why I stopped.  It’s vodka, Galliano and orange juice. Maybe I thought all that orange juice was good for me, and then later decided that asking for a wallbanger didn’t sound very classy.  After a couple of Harvey Wallbangers, nothing makes sense.

Harvey Wallbanger cocktail

Harvey Wallbanger cocktail (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Doesn’t all this make you want to run out and purchase a lot of  bright yellow ingredients?  Mix them all together with crushed ice, pour them into a chilled glass and garnish them with slices of lemon and banana and orange?  Pop in a straw and a colorful little umbrella?  Put on your shades and sit in a lawn chair and soak up the sunshine?   Would you like me to join you?

Unfortunately, I have to go to work.  I know being bored is a sin, but yesterday I got sucked in by it and swallowed whole and there was nothing I could wrap my mind around to stop the crushing numbness.  Working in a retail setting can do that to you even on a good day.

Today promises to be more of the same because so many people have decided they don’t feel like shopping and would much rather sit in their back yards sipping gin.  But day dreaming about yellow cocktails might save me. It’s worth a try.

I’ll give it my best shot.