My new pjs are going to include the butterball turkey label...

Well. That's how I am beginning to feel. Honestly.

I had back surgery on March 12. A laminectomy and a microdiscectomy on my S1 L5. They cut into your back and down on to your spine where they remove a bit of bone and cut of the offending part of the disk. (Which has had me in pain for a year). They also have to cauterize vessels so you have internal burns... but as nice side effect they melt a tiny bit of fat in the process. YAY!

Evidently - I literally busted my ass at the gym. Upon further research this is a very common injury among gym rats and athletes. (*polishes nails on shirt and blushes girlishly*)

Let me just say this; that FUCKING hurt. Didn't expect it would tickle but also didn't think it would feel like I'd been drawn and quartered.

Turns out for some reason - that I do not understand - pain medication doesn't work the same way on me as on other people. I wouldn't know, I rarely take so much as a Tylenol. For example, the nurse gave me a shot of something into my IV... waited a while and gave me another. Waited a while (I'm sobbing) and gave me some pills. NO idea what any of this was. I could guess but what difference would it make. Evidently there I was wide awake, lucid, crying and begging my lovely nurse Faith not to get my beloved Spartan from the waiting area until I had controlled my crying. Because I was afraid it would upset him (hold on while I adjust my halo).... Meanwhile, the 250 pound man across from me had half of what I had and was blissfully sleeping. I never thought I'd wish I was a rolly polly man with a beard.

THEN, when it was time for home...I was lucky enough to have to stand and then SIT in a wheelchair. Okay. Let me paint a picture. After you broke your arm - they tell you to do push ups. Same kind of idea. Agonizing. Even though walking wasn't much better I insisted on walking to the car. I couldn't sit in the wheel chair again. I was pretty sure they would have to strap me on a body board to the roof of my SUV to get me home. So I "geisha" walked to the car. Trusty Faith on one side, horrified lovable Spartan on the other. Luckily the seat was higher and my will to live (and leave the building full of people who had just tortured me- except Faith of course who I may have begged to come with me now that I think about it) got me into the car and home.

That first night wasn't fun. Think animals making a sound before they die. Not a sigh like a wee dove... think mountain gorilla, elephant, rhino...dragon? Yeah. I made them all. Poor hubby didn't quite know what to do with himself. Come to that, I didn't either. Here's a flash - birthing babies is more like a weekend vacation somewhere really nice - where you can eat ice cream and carbs and not gain an ounce- compared to this. This was quite literally the worst thing I have ever felt.

The next week was kind of a blur of pain, pills every 4-6 hours and people waking me occasionally to take me to pee (that was FUN) and drink a protein shake. Also intersperse nightmares where people are stealing your organs, laughing at your naked body and pulling out staples that were a foot long. Great fun.

A week out it suddenly dawns on me when my pain haze clears... the sciatica is gone. Not just better. GONE. Still some numbness in my foot --- but they say that is last to go so I am encouraged. Thus far no incidents of drop foot - but these are much more noticeable in 5 inch heels - trust me. I've done heels once since the operation and didn't walk far but no falling over ...so far so good. I probably won't try that again for a few weeks.

SO, here I am three weeks out. Incision is healing nicely. I feel kind of like Lara Croft with my new scar. Staples out a week ago. Can't do anything. I'm a useless lump of flesh. In yoga clothes - not doing yoga. Worst kind.

Seriously. I can't work out. Well... they cleared my for 15 minute increments of light exercise such as walking. Then increasing as tolerated. Shockingly despite that fact that I like to think I channel some super hero qualities... I get tired very easily. Like going up two sets of stairs. Or showering. Or walking half a mile. Or grocery shopping. Getting dressed felt like a 5 k up until last week. I'm like a 95 year old.

I'm frustrated but glad it seems that the worst is over and full recovery awaits. Today, as most days, I'm mostly laying about watching every reality show going. There is some really strange stuff on TV. (i.e., Hillbilly Millionaire) I'm bored. Bored but not in pain. So everything is looking up. You should all start sending me flowers. It's the right thing to do. Or.... scratch that - send me some 5 inch heels. That will give me something to work towards. ;-)

WTF

I was trying to find inspiration for a pillow case I was going to embroider and I came across this:

which lead me down a path of items that may have damaged me permanently... like this computer case...

and then what reportedly makes for a "beauty mouth"...I have to get one of these.

But if you are more interested in learning to sing you could order the "beauty voice"

Doesn't everyone here want to move to Japan now? I'm going back to that website! lmao

That damn bird...

Last week I noticed that both sides of my car had a large amount of bird poop on it. No trees near my driveway so it seemed strange. Oddly, a couple of days later and still no trees in sight there was a substantial addition to the former streaks of bird shit... indeed something was not right here.

Several days later I noticed a robin perched upon the side of my car...and he was looking at himself in the mirror. He was fluffing and kissing himself... and so I made a big commotion and scared him away.

Days go by. He keeps coming back and gazing lovingly at himself whilst pooping on my car.

I hatch a plan! I print a picture of a terrifying owl and tape it to the window.

This is a picture of the bird laughing at me. He literally opened his beak and made a hahahaha sound. (notice the terrifying owl?)

Tomorrow I will sit inside the car waiting for the little bastard... and then I will bake him into a pie.

I fucking hate winter. I hate winter and I hate women that hit on my husband. I hate them almost the same amount.

This chick went up to my husband to hit on him so he politely responded that he was married and that I would be joining him shortly, and she said "If you cheat on your wife tonight, I hope it's with me."

Are you serious. Okay hooker. Put your dukes up and prepare to see how it feels to be a human mop. And don't think I'm past urinating on you either... that's what mops are for bitch. As you are about to learn...

Classy. I know. Wonder why my hubby wouldn't point her out?

It is so freaking cold outside that I have declared a state of arrest and am ordering in all of my meals to avoid having to go outside to reach the grocery store. I miss summer.

Well I came back so where the hell did y'all go?

Merry Christmas everyone!

Spanx and My Inner Battle

So most of us like Spanx yes? I too liked them for the purposes of wearing them under bridesmaid dresses on occasion when thousands of pictures would be taken...

That is until my husband expressed his intense hate towards said underclothing. "Never Spanx - NEVER."

Not about mine mind you - since he has never seen me in them as I prefer to wear the types of pretty lace bits n pieces for my own resident prince charming. Not the spanx. Nothing sexy there. Those are really just for nights out where you might run into people from high school who you want to be jealous of you - or ex girlfriends of the hubby and so on. You get the picture. But as to appease my lovely hubby for many years I have ix nayed them.

Recently I have decided to order up some pantyhose from the spanx. They have a seam on the back and a control top and I had to have them. Anyone who has had babies appreciates the idea of a control top. Some who haven't appreciate the control top. It's a never too thin/too rich thing. It also hides panty lines.

Here's the kicker - getting into those goddamned things is almost as painful as childbirth AND if you stop part way to catch your breath - you will either bruise yourself or cut off circulation to your legs or both. Not only that but you need to do what I like to call the squat dance to hike them up so the crotch isn't mid-thigh.

The next issue is the having to pee after a few drinks - then you are a little drunk in a restaurant bathroom in 5 inch heels trying to squat dance without taking a swim in the toilet.

The last issue is - when you get home after looking particularly svelte all evening - your husband will want to "romance you". Let me assure you there is nothing sexy about getting stuck - and appearing as though you have an elastic tightly secured mid thigh. This is when the husband says again to make sure you listen, "No Spanx. Never Spanx. Ever."

I spent half my day yesterday crafting Christmas Cards and getting drunk on Bellini's. Cards are pictured above - I'm sort of attached to them and my tummy hurts when I think about mailing them. (Is it a bad thing if I mail myself a couple? I might sign them from famous people just for giggles.)

Babs and Roo made a gingerbread train and decorated some sugar cookies. Which they then ate. (She got MOST of it off of her face) Gingerbread is just gross. The only thing that's fun is reenacting that scene from Shrek where you break off the ginger bread man's leg and make him yell "You're a Monster". Then after, Babs perfected her turban skills.

17 days until holiday adventuring begins. I keep decorating and it must be stopped.

Also, if you look really close you can see my reflection in the vase. THANK god I wasn't nekkid. Get your heads out of the gutter.

I'm off in search of Christmas shows and some coffee...

Cucumber Sandwiches and Otis Redding

I'm obsessed with these two things presently.

You wouldn't think that they go together splendidly but in fact - they do. You can use the cucumber as a microphone. Or a spoon... or pretty much anything in the kitchen. Plus, somehow everything tastes better when you cook it to music (and drink wine the entire time).

Having a tea party tomorrow a.m. Yeah that's right. Tea and cucumber sandwiches. And Otis Redding. And champagne. And I'm dressing like a 40's housewife. This is how I entertain myself these days.

Pedicures and Paranoia

I refuse to answer them when my kids yell "Mom, Mummy, MOM?" from other floors in the house when they know where I am. Unless they sound like they are injured. Then I might answer. Just thought I'd share.

Last week I went for a spa day with me own Mummy when I went for a visit. It started out super nice. Had a lovely massage and even stopped caring if the lighting made my backside look fat part way through - that is the sign of a good massage. *sigh* After the massage and facial (feeling very rubbery and shimmery) we made our way out to the pedicure area whereupon the one esthetician began recounting to us the story of her mother being diagnosed schizophrenic... and how she thinks it isn't fair to tell people what they are and are not really seeing.... because when she was three she clearly remembers a baby being sacrificed and bleeding allover her Mother's nightgown.

Ok. So. Not so much trusting the crazy ass with the file in close proximity to my Mom suddenly...but how do you back out slowly in such circumstances? So we sat and finished our treatment trying our damnedest not to bring up anything that might incite violence or baby sacrifice. WTF is that???? Seriously why do I even try???? No more spas...

Bring it on Santa

House has been fully covered in a thick and unyielding layer of Christmas. I have even managed to (mostly) vacuum up the stray sparkles... except the ones who have kindly imbedded themselves into my eyeball.

Instead of finishing cleaning my kitchen and shaving my legs (I'm QUITE the multi-tasker) I decided to pour myself a coffee and blog. (see again with the multitasking) I should be busy getting ready for Spartan arrival at 2 pm sharp... but I donwanna just yet. Instead I want to bitch about chicks.

Don't get me wrong - there's some nice ones but this isn't about them. This blog is about that crusty bitch of a woman who lives across from me and I have mentally declared my enemy. Cause she is a twat. I don't usually go around calling women that. But this one deserves it. She deserves the crown. That's right the Twat Crown. (Does this conjure up an image?) I would love to go into what a small minded complete loser she is but it doesn't make me better than her (cause I already am). She is an older mom (test tube babies- and no I'm sonotfuckingkidding) and a total bitch -- and so I mailed her depends. Which makes me better than her. I am such a grown up. I get special points for that one in hell. Especially since I am still laughing hard enough to need them myself and this was 6 months ago.

Why are women such total bitches? I have my friends and they are great - the best chicks ever - but dudes out there - or women who date women - I feel so freaking sorry for you. 75 percent of us are completely insane (not in a good way). And this is a conservative number. Believe it or not boys - we usually treat each other way worse than we treat you. It starts early too - my son is only in 3rd grade and one of his best friends is a girl (she is cool) but the other girls are starting the "mean girls thing" and since she is new and hangs out with the boys - she is their prime directive. Example? The leader of the mini bitch pack says to the other followers, "Whoever hates so and so put your hand in." (to the center of the table where her little hand waits while the other is on her hip). I can't mail them depends.. so instead I am going to volunteer in the classroom... I'm going to take those little "bitches in training" down. I'm thinking things like putting bugs in their lunchbags or "accidentally" crushing their art sculptures... hiding their homework - or maybe exlax cookies? (ok pretty sure that last one is illegal so as much as I'd like to -- I will keep those for Queenie).

I am back and back into the routine

I have returned from the trip where I drank in the views and the beer. It was wonderful. Now I have begun full throttle xmas decor and shopping. I know it is early but i feel the festive. And when I feel the festive anything I can reach gets red bows or little white lights.

Spartan was home for a couple of days and we spent it eating, working out, drinking red wine and giggling. He's such a lovely hubby. Turns out I like Ahi Tuna steaks (not a lover of fish - or seafood period really) and also ate sushi today... which leaves me equally confused and feeling slightly dangerous. I know that sounds strange but I've never been adventurous enough to try it - so when I saw people eating it I sort of felt I was watching something mysterious and now that I'm part of that society and fully prepared to up my mercury levels - I feel like I'm living on the edge. Which is better than living on the edge of the couch I always say.

Off to spread some more xmas cheer about the house. I'll be at this for a month. The work comes when I have to take down all that stuff and find a closet to stuff it into again.

Here I is and isn't -isH

I am so fucking tired. It is 6:30 am and I'm in a lounge in Helsinki. The airport. They are morons and can't figure out how to check me through to the states because my Canadian passport has a visa, which they keep trying to take (because they suck reindeer balls and also don't really know how to do anything useful. I have to board now. Wish me luck...

Jumping the pond and crafting

My husband has to go to work in Europe and his company funds the wives to tag along... so I am off to destinations that are mysterious and unknown to me this Monday. I am uber giddy. Also, I got a puppy. He has the cuteness and he is possessed.

I am very excited that my Mommy is coming to visit/hang with ankle biters - and I have so much laundry and dusting to do that I have found myself confused and dusting the laundry. All of this fascinates you to no end, I'm sure of it. I also dusted the very screen I type to you on now. Impressed? No matter. I am.

I had a craft night with my girly friends last evening. This is such great fun. We craft... we consume wine and eat chili and a smattering of yummy treats and we giggle. We go home - we eat a package of gas x and sleep. Then the next day we try to make the craft look like it was not made by a drunk ... or we just say our little kid made it when people ask. If you don't have a little kid- you volunteer at a home for the aged and your pal Betsy who is 106 made it with her poor arthritis riddled hands. That serves two purposes; locks in your vote for sainthood and makes them now look upon your creation with a new found admiration. It's fun. You should do it. I was in a book club...but nobody read the books so we changed plans. Besides...Betsy is nearly blind and loses interest in books on tape...and I'm so not going to read to her - I have laundry ;-) which I should get back to....

Have a great weekend.

E

Hotter than hades

I type this sitting in a bucket of tepid water. This - in a vain attempt to remain cool. It is so hot. Attempted to golf last week and lost 70 pounds in water weight. (ok maybe a I exaggerate). People get strange in the heat... though I suspect they may have been strange before as well - the heat just really brings it out. Was packing my groceries into the back of my car the other day and a man (who I thought I was being paranoid but appeared to be stalking me in the produce aisle) waiting for me in the parking lot - drove up behind me and here is the conversation;

"Excuse me?" man says politely while pulling up behind me in a truck he must have borrowed from Roddy Piper.

I turn around suspecting someone is about to ask for directions, "Yes?"

"I saw you inside and I just wanted to tell you..."

At this point I imagine he is going to say something like - you have toilet paper on your shoe...but wait...

"...that you have an INCREDIBLE BODY." Then he just nodded at me as though this was a perfectly appropriate thing to say to a perfect stranger. At which point I decided maybe he was going to tell me I had toilet paper on my shoe and chickened out so I checked anyways. Didn't see toilet paper --- odd...

As he drove off he emphasized "Absolutely amazing."

I was torn between being strangely flattered/offended and feeling a need to shower.

Who does that to a stranger?!

My lovely hubby is coming home to save me...

WHAT A WEEK.

The Bachelorette - are you kidding me? This reminds me of all of the horrible dates before I met my hero *Spartan* swoon. Still doing that (not the horrible dates the swooning)- probably more so now than before since I love him more everyday. (vomit in your mouth yet?) He has been away for work a lot lately so I have been in charge of cleaning up basement floods, the removal of ticks (niiiice), letting the children out of their cages and repairing general household things. Hubby is coming back to save me. I am very happy about that. I'm at the end of my imaginary rope... and nearly out of wine.

I went for a fish pedicure last week. Fish tortured me with their toothless little mouths by biting at my feet for 20 minutes. Before you wonder - yes - I paid for this experience...and I'm not entirely sure why. It was kind of horrible ...like when your little and someone tickles your feet to the point where it just hurts. I saw Diane Sawyer do it so I figured, what the hell. Then I sat there for 20 minutes thinking... what the hell?!

Okay I have to go feed the carnies.

Beauty and Sex

Got your attention didn't I?

Actually I just came here to tell you that Botox is the best thing ever. I wish I had found in 10 years ago. Now excuse me while I go flirt with myself in the mirror again...

Have a great weekend.

Potty mouth, tornados and the royal weddedness

I've been swearing a lot lately. Not sure why...not sure I'm going to do anything about it. Just thought I'd recognize it. Put it out there.. own it. Fucking embrace it.

Bad weather. Tornados and thunder storms all around me. The entire east coast looks like when the gates of hell opened in ghost busters. (Is that what was happening? You know with all the swirly dark clouds and such.) The kind that touch down and steal your livestock - or your kids. (Which is funny because we got an email from the school urging us to walk our kids to the bus because of the weather - which makes me object on many levels...and I was like hell no I'm not getting swept away too!! I'm kidding. I thought that... but I still went....)

Anyways - in light of the storms I thought the best thing to do would be to talk on the phone, run a bath and type a post on my computer. At the same exact time. All three things would make my mother keel over directly. All three things done together will clearly make her head explode. She has been convinced for her entire life that the lightening will come through the pipes and the phone and cook your brain. I'm sure the computer is the same since it is on our list of storm no-no's.
When I was a kid she would usher us into her make shift bunker beneath the basement stairs. If you think tornados scare you mom, I blame your fear of them for my fear of spiders and small places. It isn't like the woman ever experienced a traumatic event personally from a storm... you could say I did since my childhood kitty was killed by lightening - but not her. She freaks the second she thinks a storm is coming to this day. She watches the weather channel for hours on end to make sure she is on it. She is like the opposite of the storm chaser. She will point at a fluffy white cloud in a blue sky and announce that it doesn't look right... that it looks like a tornado cloud... and then spend a ridiculous amount of time staring it down.

I have to wake up at 4 am to watch Prince Wills marry Katherine. I dvr'd just in case I drink myself into a coma before bed - well you know in celebration and such. LOOK - I'm Canadian and that means that he is going to be my King... so it is my duty to celebrate. I can't wait to see what she wears and her hair, what he wears, so swoon romantic! Weddings! Princes! Carriages... etc. Sadly my very own Prince Charming is trying to fly home but is trapped where he is because of the weather (I stopped myself from swearing just then... don't want to overdo it...). Hope he gets home so I can tuck my feet up under him at bed and gaze adoringly at him as I fall asleep.... (in my wedding dress... lol)

*bonus* Last week I had a dream that I commissioned a painting of my Spartan on the ceiling of our bedroom. Then I woke up and was like, "wtf?" and then eventually came round to thinking it might be a good idea... which would be waaaay creepier if we had just started dating or something. Just saying. Not exactly normal when it's your husband but less creepy... right? Maybe a little? HMMM?

Ants, birds and a dripping faucet and not in that order

I'm annoyed.

Birds in my dryer vent scared the shit out of me this morning while I was looking for socks for Babs... hadn't quite woken up yet either. Very disturbing. For a split second the irrational thought; "This is it the end of the world... tiny squeaking aliens are about to come through a porthole that just happens to be right where my dryer is. Fanfuckingtastic." I think I read too much science fiction. I'm afraid to turn on the dryer and cook those suckers.

Ants. Fucking ants are trying to turn my very lovely home into an ant farm. They appear to like the cracks in the corners of the doorway... which means I have to call out the pest folks who appear in the form of one very young giggly fellow who I'm not sure does anything useful at all.... CUZ ANTS ARE EVERYWHERE and he just came 3 weeks ago...

Lastly - my faucet in the kitchen is dripping. It's slowly making me lose my grip with reality. Last night when the house got quiet - it seemed to get much louder to the point where I jumped up and yelled "I'll tell you what you want to know - JUST MAKE IT STOP."

I'm going to the store to buy one of those tiny blowtorches they use for creme brulee... I think it might be able to solve all of my problems - even if only temporarily...

Oh and seriously if Donald Trump runs for office why don't we urge Madonna to take over as Treasurer and maybe one of the reality stars from the hills could get in there... or maybe a character from sesame street.

You really want to know what I think....

In Canada visiting family. While here I decided to check into a hotel nearby to free up room for other relatives with small(er) children. Also so I can use the gym...and yeah ok the spa. But mostly because I kick ass in the generosity dept ;-)
Anyways when I went to use the gym which is really really small -about the size of my walk in closet-and it isn't an Oprah closet before you ask... So I'm working away sculpting and such (that's what happens in the movie in my mind-in reality I thInk it just ensures I can still do up my jeans which is also nice...) when suddenly 3 adults and their tiny spawn enter the gym whereupon they ALL start playing. The kids were hanging on the pulldown bar and then they played on the elliptical and so on. The adults didn't do anything useful either. They just got in the way. What do I really think? Get out. I'm busting my ass here and in about 5 minutes I'm going to play "catch" the medicine ball with your three year old - and that will only end in tears. My other plan involves bowling overhand with both of your brats with them ending up somewhere in the hot tub cooking them into children stew. Yep. That's what I really think. The arcade is in the lobby you terds.
I gave up after about 20 minutes and cut my work out short. I spent the next hour wishing them ill-which I'm doing again right now....

So then this morning I went to breakfast and there was this family who was trying to break the Guinness record on carb inhalation and they are sitting right in front of me so I am totally staring. Can't help it they were fascinating. So this kid with them is about 7 and he is alternately
Opening his mouth for his mother to stuff waffles in and playing is ds. Evidently the battery died on his electronic device because he collapsed into a blubbering heap of loud tears. Know what his mommy did to make him feel better? She built him-and in mean built this would have challenged even the best architectural engineer- a waffle sandwich stuffed with at least 30 pieces of hot greasy bacon. Then she flattened it and handed it to him. So he stopped crying and in the most horrific way imaginable ate it all and ask for toast. I looked down at my plate of fruit and felt very proud... And I wrapped my bacon up in a napkin to hide it...lol....for myself more than anything. Plus I thought the kid might attack me for it when he was done eating his toast like the cookie monster. Jeez people. Why not just feed him a vat of lard and give him some ciggies? The gym is on the 2nd floor you terds... (see what I did there?)

Side note- this post was painstakingly typed out on my iPad folks-it took me forever. Hope you appreciate my efforts to tell you what I really think... Happy Easter!

Let's see if she has anything interesting to say folks...

Since every single time something funny happens I still find myself writing about it in my head... I figured I might as well write it here.

Still living in America. Looks like I might be the first generation to permanently move back here since my Grandfather. Way back when someone in my gene pool jumped over the pond from somewhere in Europe - rumored to be Scotland and Ireland and eventually came to the States and some to Canada and now my family is split betwixt. And I spend so much time going back and forth and forth and back that I still feel split betwixt.

This is a good pairing of cultures since I can now benefit from both Thanksgivings and preferred taxation.

I went on a field trip to the Museum of Natural History last week. I had the flu - well I was through the worst of it but then I sat in the back of the bus...as imagined not a good plan. I spent 3 hours in between dizzy spells and feeling nauseous - mix in the odd dinosaur skeleton and 5,000 hyperactive children and that pretty much sums up my day. Seriously, who decides this shit is fun. Next year I'm going to suggest a field trip where the adults can drink. It's only fair. Children like to see how shit is made right? Why not wine? That's what I say.

I'm going to make sure I start researching this right away... :-D