I think I'm back...

My tablet died, so I had to get a new one. The new model is considerably bigger, and consequently easier to type on. I'm going to try to resume semi-regular blogging... we'll see how I do.

I had to sign back into Facebook to save my progress on a few games. I took a brief glance at the first few items on my news feed, went "Nope" and will be deactivating the page again. I've been happier without it, although I *do* miss the interaction with a few friends & family members.

Still battling the fatigue issues, but my health is otherwise tolerably good. In an effort to be more active, I have started volunteering as a role player for training exercises at the police academy. THAT has been a freaking hoot! Most of the recruits are wet behind the ears kids, and the handful of older ones with some life experience still aren't prepared to deal with someone like me. One scenario I was in had me & another girl (who was almost as big as me) in a domestic issue where the ex-wife & new girlfriend started fighting when hubby tried to pick up the kids. She & I were having fun slinging furniture & throwing mock punches. The kids sent to stop us were both around 5'2-5'4 and probably less that 150 lbs each. The slightly taller of the two pushed his partner toward us, said "you deal with that while I talk to this dude." Little guy shrieked, "who, me?!?" We stopped fighting each other, turned & gave him evil smiles, and started his way. The assessor finally managed to stop laughing long enough to call a halt to the scene once it was clear that the kid was either going to wet himself or run, possibly both.

Another day saw me in a loud party scenario. I was paired up with Officer E, who is also a big girl, and another civilian. The kids were "dispatched" in groups of 3 this time, not that it did them much good. All 3 of us escaped custody, they usually didn't find the drugs & weapons hidden on us, and the piece de resistance was the final group. We were in a second floor room for this exercise, and had been heckling a group that was below us outside. (The training staff were in hysterics by the end of the day because E & I were being total heathens) We got what turned out to be our last group. As they burst into the "party" (which they did incorrectly) & turned our music off, I was hit with inspiration. I went a couple of rounds of music off/on with the little guy closest to me (seriously, most of this class is 5'2-5'8) and then freaked him out. I screamed, "oh, snap, someone sent us a police strip-o-gram! Get them clothes off, baby!" E immediately caught on & followed suit. (Our 3rd comrade & the assessor were both laughing too hard to do anything) We started grinding on those boys and tugging at their uniforms. THEY panicked. In the middle of all this, I grabbed my guy's gun (not a euphemism, his actual mock weapon. Thankfully they weren't given real guns & tasers for these exercises) and ran to the window, tossing it out the the scenario out below us, allowing all hell to break loose in that one too. The trainers called time on us at that point.

We went downstairs to return our stuff to the prop boxes & join the session debriefing. Then I hear the Lt. say, "wait, that's not a prop, that's a recruit's gun!" followed by a bellow of "which one of you damn fools got disarmed and who did it?!?" The kid reluctantly confessed & pointed at me. Lt. M gave him quite an earful about it. He also dropped by my office that night to tell me that they'd watched the body camera footage of all the incidents (they didn't tell US that those damn things were live... oops) and had been laughing themselves sick for 8 hours. Especially at the last scene. "We never knew you were so good at being bad!"

I'm really hoping that footage never leaves the academy, but I suspect it's making its way around the department.

October/November catch-up post

So, we took Dad down to NC for his birthday at the end of September. I can’t handle many more of these trips. Between my health issues & my insane parents, they’re just too hard on me. We left shortly after I got off work Friday morning & I drove all the way to Burlington. At that point I had been up 27 hours and needed a break, so I let Mom drive. I forgot that she cannot drive and read road signs at the same time, and made the mistake of falling asleep for 20 minutes. That’s all it took for her to take the wrong damn exit in Raleigh (due to road construction) and turn our 16 hour trip into a 20 hour one. We wound up in Little Washington and having to drive back down to Jacksonville because she wouldn’t pull over and let me resume driving.

Anyway, I spent Saturday sick as a dog and mostly asleep. Sunday we went over to see Uncle John & it was decided we should go to the State Seafood Festival in Morehead City. That’s when we learned that Uncle John flatly refuses to ride in a car with Dad anymore. He says it’s because they’re the last 2 Spencer men and there wouldn’t be anyone left if there was a crash. So I had to ride with him (he also wouldn’t let me drive, and yes, his driving is a bit unnerving) while Mom & Dad followed in their car. We got there and the parking situation was dismal. Anywhere that we could find space was still too far away for Dad & Uncle J to walk, so we cruised the strip and then decided to head back for Jacksonville. Uncle John was concerned that we’d lost Mom, so he drove about 10 m.p.h. and created an even bigger traffic jam than there already was until she caught up.

Oh, and we went out to see the Montford Point Marines memorial. It was really nice- I took quite a few pictures on my phone and will post them as soon as I can figure out how to get them onto this device.

We were supposed to leave Jacksonville mid-morning on Monday so that we’d have time to get to the Philly Deli in Wilmington & have lunch with Sandra. We got a late start due to Aunt Myrtle deciding (at the last minute) to go to dialysis. (She also held up the old folks getting together Saturday for the same reason) We wound up following them over to say our goodbyes and THEN she wanted to chat.

We finally got underway to Wilmington, but were way late. Sandra’s car was DOA & Brandon (her son) didn’t want to pick her up from work and bring her over to join us for lunch, so we called in an order for Mom to pick up and take to her while Dad & I stayed at the restaurant so he could visit with everybody. We went ahead and ordered, because she was only supposed to be gone 20 minutes. Our food arrived, along with Brandon (what a surprise) and no sign of Mom. Dad finally insisted I call and find out where she was. She’d started yakking with Sandra and didn’t realize she’d been gone over an hour. So now we were 3 hours off schedule and still had to stop for Dad’s fish. He was so pitiful- “we don’t have to stop for fish if you don’t want to, and I don’t have money for a lot anyway.” Like I was going to take him down there and not let him get a cooler of fish & country meat. (we got his meat Sunday) I had saved money out for his fish, so he didn’t need to worry about that.

Don’t ask me what time we finally got back to Louisville. Or how many times we had to stop on the way back. My father is the king of telling us he needs to stop AS WE’RE PASSING THE DAMNED REST AREAS. I (VERY RELUCTANTLY) had to give up and let Mom drive again, but not until we were well into Kentucky. There are no exits on I-64 for her to take by mistake, so we did finally get to Louisville without too much hassle.

Let’s see, what else? Saw my doctor and he was appalled to discover that my thyroid hormone levels had dropped even more since my last visit. I asked him how bad it was and he paused for a minute before saying that I should probably be catatonic instead of as functional as I was. So that medication got doubled & I go back to see him in January. It does explain why I’m still having fatigue issues though, so that was helpful.

Oh, the little punk that broke into my house got caught breaking into another house. Unfortunately for him, he was caught by LMPD, and even more unfortunately it was AFTER his 18th birthday and by a pair of officers who had backed West Buechel up on the call to my house. So he got a one-way trip downtown to the big-boy jail. Heh. The little bastard got to spend the weekend in jail because his momma couldn’t come up with his bail. My heart just bleeds for him…

Discovered a new snack (that I really shouldn’t be eating) when we went to Costco the other day. Golden Island Korean Barbeque Pork Jerky. It’s good stuff and surprisingly tender for jerky! Dad even liked the sample, although it was still a bit too hard to chew for him.

I may as well tell you this last bit. Had another adventure in medical drama & Mom driving on Friday. We’d gone out for breakfast after I left work. Something I ate decided to disagree with me and I wound up having a hideous acid reflux attack about 20 minutes after I’d gotten home & gone to bed. I’m already on Rx strength Prilosec twice a day for reflux, but decided to try a dose of Alka Seltzer since Prilosec does nothing for immediate relief. It worked for about 10 minutes and then I started vomiting. And then the chest pain started. (relax- I did NOT have a heart attack) Since I knew what those symptoms could be indicative of, I didn’t want to risk driving myself to the ER. I also didn’t want to call an ambulance as I’m still paying off my thyroid surgery. So I stupidly called Mom & said I needed a ride to the ER. I didn’t go into detail because I didn’t want her or Dad to panic.

Now any sane, rational parents would think “hey, the kid that normally has to be dragged kicking and screaming to the doctor just called me for a ride to the ER. We should hurry.” Not my parents. They took their time getting dressed (they’d gone back to bed after breakfast), diddling around, and finally showed up at my house almost an hour later. Good thing I wasn’t bleeding to death. Then Mom wanted to take the surface roads instead of the Interstate because “I’m not comfortable on that exit with this kind of traffic.” I was trying to stay calm in case it WAS a heart attack, but that sent me screaming over the edge.

Anyway, after an hour of being poked & prodded, they determined that it WAS just an acid reflux attack. The chest pain was caused by a hole in my esophagus that allowed acid to leak into my windpipe and down to my lungs. So I was pumped full of antacids & antibiotics (and a GI cocktail- lidocaine & milk of magnesia- that was seriously foul tasting, but blessedly killed the pain after about 5 minutes) and sent home. I’m now on Rx strength Pepcid along with the Prilosec, and a couple of other things that I don’t recall off the top of my head.

So that's my current life. We've spent the evening watching the election results at work & I think life with President Oompa Loompa is going to exceed the limits of my medication. Tried to check the Canadian immigration website & it had crashed. I'm still seriously considering leaving. We'll see what happens.

Making My Bed

How normal people make the bed:
Put clean sheets on bed, find something else to do afterward.

How I make the bed when one or more of the cats decide to help:

Remove cat from basket of freshly laundered sheets.

Find fitted sheet.

Remove cat from mattress.

Get first corner in place, move cat to get at second corner.

Try to get third corner. Move cat. Try again.

Move cat. Start tugging sheet to make 4th corner fit. Move cat.

Reach for flat sheet. Remove cat from laundry basket.

Shake sheet out, see that the damned cat is on the bed again.

Drape sheet over bed & cat. Laugh as cat panics and begins to do laps between the sheets.

Remember that cats are vindictive little assholes & likely to pee on bed. Pull sheet back for cat to escape.

Cat then lounges in center of bed.

Remove cat. Attempt to spread sheet out neatly. Remove cat.

Grab comforter. Tuck under arm and remove the fucking cat from the damn bed again.

Shake comforter over bed. Of course the brain dead cat is back in the center of the bed.

Watch cat do another set of laps before pulling it out and gently tossing it out of the room.

Stuff pillows into cases. Arrange pillows around the misbegotten little beast that is back on the bed AGAIN.

Remove cat. Keep tucked under arm as you leave the room & close the door. Put him down & realize his brother is nowhere to be seen.

Open bedroom door and see other fucking cat lolling on bed.

Weep bitter tears of rage & resignation. Scream in frustration, and watch BOTH cats flee.

Silently thank lucky stars that third cat is still outside and NOT ON THE DAMNED BED.

Not a holiday post

I am OVER the holiday hoopla. I spent all of my money & the last of my vacation time for this year to take my father to NC and I am done. The whole mess was traumatic and I'm not saying anything else about it other than NEVER AGAIN.

SO, ON TO SOMETHING ELSE.....

I have a zillion jackets & coats, so I needed another one like a hole in the head. But back in September, one of the catalogs that I get had this trench style fleece coat that I just fell in love with. I wanted it in black, but of course THAT wasn't available in my size, so I settled for gray. It was on sale, plus I had an additional discount code AND a frequent shopper reward from the company as well as a free shipping code, so I paid about $28 for a $80 coat.

Then, once it came, I decided that I didn't like the buttons on it. No biggie, a quick trip to the craft store should solve that. Right? Riiiiiiight.

A: count the number of buttons you're going to need AND measure them before you go to the craft store. I did neither. More on that in a minute.

B: when the hell did buttons get so ridiculously expensive?!? The ones I really liked started at $4-6 PER BUTTON. Since I thought I was replacing 7 of them, it seemed wrong to spend as much on buttons as I did on the he coat itself. Even with coupons, I was going to be paying a lot. So I bought 1 large button in a style that appealed to me & took it home to see how it would look.

Looked great, but it was too big. Ok, let's suit down and search the store's website. Maybe something I like & can afford will jump out at me. I found a set of 4 pretty purple & black swirled jewel tone buttons. The site said they were in stock at the store, but somehow I'd overlooked them. No problem. I took a quick look at the coat & came up with a total of 7 buttons.

I went back the next day and found them. Too small, & wrong style. I needed flat buttons & these had the peg back. So I looked for smaller versions of the big one I bought the day before. Eureka! Sold in sets of 2, a slightly different shape, but I liked them enough to go for it. Also, less expensive than the first couple of designs I looked at.

After all that, you'd think I would have gone home & started the great button replacement project. Those who know me, know what came next. The button bag got hung on the hanger with the coat and sat untouched for a couple of weeks...

...Until the day I looked at the forecast and saw the weather was finally going to get cold enough to need a coat rather than the fleece jackets I was wandering around in. (We've had an oddly warm winter) So I made myself sit down, snipped the first button off the jacket, and stitched the new one in place. Yay! Two more followed suit, easy peasy. That's when I discovered that I had miscounted and the body of the coat only had 3 buttons. No problem, I'll replace the 2 on the belt loops & have 3 left of the 8 I bought.

You guessed it. The belt loop buttons were SMALLER than the body ones. Arrrgh! Back to the stupid store. The brand I bought did make a smaller button in the same style/color, but in a different shape. I grabbed a pack of two, paid for them (after sharing my tale of woe & frustration with the amused cashier- I spend so much time there that this girl knows me on sight) and went home to finish this damned project.

Stitched the two new buttons on and started to congratulate myself when something hit me. I'd hung the coat up to take a picture, but only one belt loop button appeared to be replaced. WTF?!? I yanked the coat down & started examining it, because I *KNOW* I replaced two buttons. I was kind of right. That's when I realized that there was a THIRD belt loop button on the BACK of the coat, and that was the one I'd stitched on.

I am not embarrassed to admit I threw a shrieking tantrum. I should be, but I'm not. It was my own fault for not paying attention, counting correctly, etc. So I drove back to the craft store ONE MORE TIME for the final button. My friendly cashier started laughing when I stomped through the door with a face like thunder. "Oh dear," she said. "How off was it this time?"

Now, a smart person would have brought all of the wrong/excess buttons back for an exchange. As I've already proven, this project had turned me into the village idiot. Not only had I shredded my receipts, I'd torn all the buttons off their cardboard backing when I thought they'd get used, so I was stuck with them.

I paid for the (hopefully) final pair of buttons and went home, determined to finish this thing once & for all. I replaced the LAST button, went over the coat with a fine tooth comb (and a lint roller because the little black cat finally came to see what her mama was losing her damn fool mind over and rolled on it) and realized I was really truly finished. Tears were shed, and the coat was hung up for a picture:

And then the weather warmed up again, so it was another month before I got to wear the damned thing!

Not the greatest week- I hate having blood drawn

So, I went to the lab a week ago to have blood drawn for my doctor's appointment. I got a new-to-me tech who I never want to see again. Actually, I *DO* want to see her, preferably across a courtroom when I sue her incompetent ass. This idiot picked up a needle that was a cross between a darning needle and a railroad spike and jabbed it into my arm so hard that I expected to see it come out the other side. Now, I admit to being a wimp when it comes to needles, but this was ridiculous! Then I got a fresh wave of pain when she jerked it back out after collecting the umpteen vials of blood needed for my tests. I've never had one hurt coming out. EVER.

By the end of the night, I had a huge bruise on the inside of my arm and the needle hole was still visible. There were also red streaks extending up toward my wrists. Sunday, the hole was STILL visible, although the bruise and red streaks had faded. I had, however, developed random shooting pains and muscle spasms. And a lump about 3 inches down from the needle hole. Then I found out that she'd done the same thing to my father on Friday, only he didn't have the same side effects. Luckily for her.

My appointment with Dr. B was on Monday. He looked at my arm after I told him what happened, and shook his head. He thinks the lump is an internal bruise. The pain & spasms are because that cow most likely nicked a nerve. He had his office manager call down to the lab to find out who we needed to complain to and was told that the cow's last day was Friday (the day after she abused me & the day she hurt Daddy) and they were very sorry to hear what had happened. That's great, but what about the damage done to my arm?!? Dr B said it should lessen by the end of the week, and to call him on Monday if it hasn't. I'm here to tell you, it hasn't.

Just to add to the fun, I got my flu shot. In the same f'ing arm. So now I have a stiff achy shoulder (I always have the worst reaction) as well as the shooting pains & spasms in my lower arm. Did I mention that this is my left arm and I'm left handed?!? Not fun.

Oh yeah, and my recurring sinus infection is awake with a vengeance. Love the changing of the seasons.

So, there's my WAAAH post for the week. I'm not even going to start on the general stupidity of my workplace. Instead, here are some pretty boys to look at!

Fall Weather Descended With A Vengeance This Weekend

I love it! I'm sitting here on my couch in layered sweats & fuzzy slippers. I've slept better the last 2 nights than I had in months. And Princess Purrsnickety has deigned to come indoors and be cuddly!

Not much else going on. Dad had a chest pain scare that landed him in the hospital Thursday night, but was allowed to go home after blood work showed no sign of a heart attack and a scan showed no blockages. They think k it might have been a weird reaction to his flu shot earlier in the week. He goes to his cardiologist for a follow-up tomorrow, just to be on the safe side.

I haven't made any progress on my two previously posted cross stitch projects, but I have made a start on this:

For the SAL that I signed up to do, this is the frame for Gold Cottage- part 1 of Country Cottage Needlework's Fall Festival series. I'm hoping to finish (or at least get close) all 5 parts by the time the SAL ends in November!

Until later, dear reader (readers? Is anyone out there?!?)

The New Kids At Work Aren't Getting Any Smarter

The following conversation took place a few days ago:

Conversation with me and Officer Dimwit

Me: What do you have?

OD: *deer in the headlights look*

M: *slowly* What. Do. You. Have?

OD: (clutching citation & duffle bag) Um, a bag?

M: (resisting urge to slap him) Is it evidence or personal property?

OD: Ummmmm

M: You have to pick one.

OD: *hesitantly* Well, they wouldn’t take it at the jail…

M: So, it’s personal property then?

OD: Ummm, no it’s for safekeeping.

M: *barely resisting the urge to facepalm in front of him* Yes, that’s what personal property means.

OD: *blank look*

M: Does it contain any food, money, or medication?

OD: *blank look*

M: *repeats question*

OD: Ummm, no there’s no food or money.

M: What about medication?

OD: *Another blank look*

M: *wearily* Dude, work with me. Is there any medication in the bag?

OD: *suddenly brightly* Oh, you mean drugs?!?

M: *weeping silently inside my head* Yes. Got any?!?

OD: Um, gee, I don’t think so…

We repeated this process when I asked about electronics like cell phones or e-readers. It took 20 minutes just to get that much out of him. Then I had to all but beg for the citation. He had a death grip on the bag and the paperwork and it was like he wasn’t actually going to give me either of them.

Where are they getting these people?!?

Another Wild Weekend At My House

A wild Saturday night at my house:

Decide that I need to do something besides eat junk & fool around online.

Make an attempt at tackling clean laundry mountain. Start by pulling out as much of the socks & underwear as I can find.

Realize that I can open my own shop with the amount of stuff hidden in the laundry.

Start trying to match socks. Give up on trying to find actual mates to black & white socks, settle for pairing them up by reasonably matching shade & length.

Wonder where the hell all the mates to my purple socks are?!?

Get frustrated with socks and start on the underwear instead.

Wonder why I own so many pairs of knickers when I only have 1 (admittedly large) butt.

In an unexpected burst of clarity, finally figure out the correct way to fold aforementioned knickers. Immediately dump the ones already in the drawer and refold to match the rest.

Feeling accomplished, I tackle the bra drawer. Throw away 3 bras that are so old that the label has faded away.

Renewed, I tackle the socks again. After matching everything possible, I still have half a basket of mateless socks. Hope that the rest are still in the mountain and will be found as I excavate.

Decide that I deserve a break and start reading.
3 hours later, realize I am hungry. Have given up on High Rise for the night and read a graphic novel & a memoir by Issa Rae. Decide that earns me a snack.

Sit down to eat & watch another comedy DVD. Then the rolling thunder started. Fetched the idiot cat inside, huddled on the couch with her while thunder LITERALLY shook my house. Then my phone alerts kicked in to tell me that we were under flood warning. Yay. Shady lost her mind and squalled for 90 minutes as the thunder continued and the rain threatened to was us away.

Things finally died down enough to let me get to sleep around 10 a.m. I'd forgotten to take my melatonin earlier, so it was hard to drop off and I didn't sleep well.

Dummies of the Week

My job never fails to provide moments of hilarity, however unintentional. Here are the winners of the Blooming Idiot award for the last week:


The winner-Idiot 1: Officers are involved in a pursuit of subject on a stolen moped. Subject leaps off moped, causing it to crash in someone's yard and takes off on foot, with several officers in hot pursuit. Believe it or not, THIS isn't our winner. No, our winner jumps off the porch of the house next door to the crash and tries to take off on the already stolen moped, not realizing that 2 officers had abandoned the pursuit in order to secure the recovered stolen property. The dumbfounded officers watched him pick up the moped, sit down & start it up, and let him get about 6 feet before unceremoniously yanking him off it and arresting him. Oh, and he had a pocketful of dope on him, to boot.


Honorable Mention- Idiot 2: Officer responds to call of person in distress in fast food restaurant bathroom. Subject has come out of bathroom and is wobbling around in parking lot when officer arrives. Subject is quite clearly under the influence of something. When asked if he'd taken anything, he produced a bottle of bath salts from his pocket and asked the officer to taste them and tell him if they seemed off because he doesn't think they sold him the right thing. Officer declined and transported the idiot to the hospital, and then to jail.

Yep, it's Derby Time again...

I'm out here at the track as the mobile property clerk. I had to come in at 7 this morning, which was NOT pretty!

Anyway, to keep myself entertained, I've come up with a Fashion Victim Bingo chart. We'll see how many I've checked off by the end of the day.

1. Man in seersucker suit with visible underwear lines.

2. Man in seersucker suit with lack of underwear clearly visible.

3. Woman with skirt that could double for headband.

4. Woman with more material in her hat than in her entire outfit.

5. Group of frat boy types in coordinating ugly plaid shorts.

6. Woman wearing heels too high with skirt too short.

7. Anyone wearing ugly novelty hat.

8. Drunk guy without pants. (Seriously, I have seen this. They usually lose them fighting in the infield)

9. Couple who have taken the matchy matchy look WAY too far.

10. Trifecta- woman in hat too big, heels too tall, dress that provides inadequate coverage on both ends.

Chech back later to see how I did!z

Based on a Facebook post...regional food names and a childhood memory

I have decided not to post about the trip to/from NC or the goings on at the funeral. I am once again making a concerted effort to cut some of the negativity in my life.

I will say that I decided it was time I grew up and paid for my own hotel room for the weekend. And it was nice to see my nephew/little brother who flew in from CA for the funeral- it's been nearly 20 years since we'd seen each other. Also, I ate FAR too much junk, but enjoyed every bite.


So, one of the things I did was post pics of some of the meals from my favorite hometown restaurants to a foodie group I belong to on FB. Another member of the group posted pics of her haul from a farmer's market she'd been to and then asked for a meal idea using the ground meat she bought in a moment of optimism. Another member suggested cabbage rolls, and gave a recipe for them. I got the giggles when I read it. For some reason, I've always thought of cabbage rolls as a bread product when I've seen written references to them.

Turns out that what they call cabbage rolls are what my family calls Pigs in a Blanket. Meatballs, usually studded with rice, rolled in cabbage leaves, and cooked in a tomato based sauce. We also call it Stuffed Cabbage. This confused the heck out of my cousin Melissa when she married into our family. I had to laugh because my one & only Girl Scout camping trip lead to the same confusion for slightly different reasons.

I am not an outdoorsy person. Never have been. I went on the trip because they promised we'd be sleeping in cabins, not tents. They failed to mention the lack of electricity, running water, and that we'd be using outhouses. Or that it was mosquito season. It was a horrible drive up- the leaders couldn't get the vans we were supposed to go in, so we wound up being crammed into 4 cars (25 kids with gear plus chaperones) and we got caught in traffic due to a festival in one town. We were all hot and cranky when we got there, not to mention desperate for bathrooms, and it degenerated from there.

The counselor was trying to cheer up 25 disgruntled little girls (we were Brownies) and promised us Pigs In The Blanket for dinner with a special surprise for dessert. "OH BOY!" I thought. I loved my mom's version, so I was expecting something really good. Imagine my surprise at dinner when I was handed a limp hot dog and an even limper piece of crescent roll dough and told to wrap my piggie in its blanket. I burst into tears and so did 3 other girls who didn't like hot dogs. We all refused to eat the things. The counselors had a hurriedly whispered conference and decided to see how we fared with dessert.

Dessert was great! MY first encounter with S'mores and I loved them. NOBODY cried or refused those!

The rest of the night was pretty rough. Some idiot told us ghost stories, so nobody could sleep. No one wanted to use the outhouses at night. (or during the day for that matter) We all itched from mosquito bites, a couple had found the poison ivy. Most of us were starving, and I just hoped we'd have something good for breakfast.

Nope. They planned cheese filled scrambled eggs for breakfast. At that age, I ate neither one. (still won't eat eggs) My mother HAD warned them that I couldn't wouldn't eat that and even offered to provide an alternate for me herself. The leaders foolishly assured her it wouldn't be necessary. Boy were they wrong. One of the other girls who wouldn't eat the dinner the night before and I both flat out refused to touch eggs. They hadn't brought anything else. Finally, one of them remembered that there were some graham crackers left over from the S'mores, so that's what we had for breakfast. Then everybody got crammed back into the cars for the drive home.

So there you have the story of one of my childhood traumas. LOL. Mom is STILL mad at those troop leaders, 30+ years on. I still hate outhouses. But we both like S'mores!

Banging my head into the wall on a near daily basis...

So, my brother in law, Eddie, passed away last weekend. The funeral is this coming weekend, in NC. We're leaving around 6 tomorrow night. 12-16 hours, each way, in the car with my parents. To top it off, I get to share a hotel room with them for the weekend. FML

On the plus side, I'll be away from the office for almost a week. Speaking of which...

The newest crop of department rookies has hit the street, and they are dumber than dirt. Seriously. We've already nominated them "the class most likely to have it's members accidentally shoot themselves or be shot with their own weapons." My friend Dave is training one that got a call for them to respond to an accident. He asked her how long she thought it would take them to get from their current location to the accident scene. (it was less than a mile away) She told him, "About 15 minutes," and then proceeded to get lost. It took them an hour to get there. This is with a GPS, an MDT with internet connection, and 2 smartphones in the car. Dave started texting their Sgt after the 3rd wrong turn she took and asked him to meet them at the scene. He tried to gently steer her in the right direction, but she snapped at him that she was doing fine and he let it go. When they finally arrived, the unamused Sgt told Dave to write her up. She told the Sgt that she didn't know why they were taking the call anyway since it wasn't their beat. (Dave went face down into the dashboard at that point) It WAS their beat, BTW.

Well today, the girl got lost on the third call. Dave took over driving, took her back to the division and told her to get out of the car and go buy herself a Mapsco guide to Louisville. Her instructions included "Come back to the division after you get the book and let me know to come pick you up." That was at 4:30. He came to see me at 5:45 and was here for almost an hour. He texted me at 7:04 to say that she'd finally found her way back to the division.

Somehow it makes me feel better to know that it's not just me...

Damn Fools.

I swear, one of these days I'm going to learn not to work double shifts! Anyway, here's the highlight of my night so far:

Division beat officers had to serve mental inquest warrant on an elderly Bosnian lady who barely speaks English. When they got her to the hospital, the staff discovered a grocery bag in her purse that was stuffed with money…which they refused to be responsible for. Instead of taking back to her home or giving it to her social worker, they brought it here for safekeeping.

Mentally ill or not, that woman needed a whack upside the head. So did her damn social worker. I counted 86,740 frikking dollars in that bag! The officer who brought it down kept apologizing- her beat partner was too chickenshit to come down with it and pawned it off on her. She had NO idea it was that much.

That was 7:30-8:00. Around midnight, the jackass who sent it down called and wanted to know if he could come get it out and take it back to the social worker & husband who were worried about where it was. I called that fool every damned thing I could think of and may have invented a few new words.

I don't love my job anymore, but I *DO* need the flipping insurance...

More Reasons That I Loathe Valentine's Day

Things that were said to me by the chuckleheads that I happened to be dating at the time V-day rolled around:


1. "Ahhh, flowers a waste of money, but we had these leftover from a promotion at work, so I grabbed you a couple. They were just going to go in the garbage anyway." Schmucknuts strikes again.


2. "Flowers are a waste of money. They just die." Then, after I said he could have just picked some out of the yard and I'd have been happy, "Those don't count- you'd know I didn't pay for them." Dipshit from High School

3. "I didn't get you any candy because you don't really need it." Schmucknuts again

4. "I didn't know what kind of candy you'd like. Besides, I didn't think we did the touchy feely crap." Beast. (you'd think at some point during the 10 or so years we were together he MIGHT have learned what candy I eat)

5. "How would it look if I was seen buying some dumb pink girlie card in a store?" Beast again, concerned about his tough guy image

6. "Oh, I don't want to celebrate Valentine's Day with you because my old girlfriend and I considered it our anniversary." The Lump, about 2 weeks before we broke up.

7. "Uh, you think we're dating? I thought we were just sleeping together." The jerk I lost my virginity to in college



So, you see, even when I *HAD* someone, I couldn't win. And I've pretty much lost all hope.

Here We Are Again

So my weekend started out well- I got to sleep in and was thinking about taking a nap when it occurred to me that I hadn't looked at my phone. I usually turn the ringer off on weekends. Lo and behold, 5 frantic text messages from Mom.

Dad is in the hospital AGAIN. He woke her up about 2 hours after I'd left Saturday morning saying that he was having trouble breathing.
One trip to the ER later and a transfer to the main hospital downtown, we were told he was having congestive heart failure.

Mom is still having vision problems, so she has to leave him before it gets dark, and can't get back down to the hospital before sunrise. Dad, of course, is having fits because that means he has to be by himself and doesn't think her vision problems are that bad. Guess who got to the spend the weekend up all night in a chair at his bedside?

It's not like I had anything better to do. I don't have a life anymore. I did get some reading done. Hit a new level on Candy Crush. And slept like a rock once I got to go home and crawl into bed. And it did seem to make Dad feel better to have me sitting there, even if he slept most of the time.

Today we've been told that he seems to have a recurrence of his COPD, some congestive failure (but his heart is functioning fine), and a UTI with possible kidney stones forming. Yay. They're treating him with all kinds of diuretics, BP meds, and other meds. Not sure how long he's going to be in this time, but at least we know he's not in danger at the moment!

Pokes & Prods

Welcome back to the medical soap opera that is my life. Last Monday I had the treat of literally being scoped out from top to bottom by the GI doctor.

Good news: I apparently have a beautiful colon.

Bad news: The acid reflux that I was told was all in my head has severely burned my esophagus and I am now having a Rx strength antacid
added to my medication. If the insurance company approves it. They want Dr. H to submit something in writing telling them why I need it before they'll pay for it. And of course it's too expensive for me to just pay for it outright. I'm trying to make do with OTC meds for now. They don't do a lot, but it's better than nothing.

Worse news: I have to give up my beloved iced coffee. The acid in it isn't helping. Luckily enough, I'm still allowed my teas.


Then on Wednesday, I went back to see Dr. M about my damned thyroid. He looked at the ultrasound pictures and said, "Well, the tumor's only grown a little bit." Yeah, but that little bit now makes it half the size of what's left of the kaza-flatching gland. "Hmmm, this isn't good. It's feeling firm." So what does that mean? Well, it's not likely to shrink, and it's apparently trying to calcify which means it's about to do something really icky. But again, the insurance company wants a biopsy before it gets removed. Dr. M did promise me though that if we don't get that sucker out by the end of March, it'll be coming out in the next 6-12 months. Fine by me. I'm not looking forward to the anesthesia mask- hello, flight or fight instinct!- but I want at least one thing to be finished and done with.

Don't get too excited- I probably won't keep posting this frequently! :-)

So, I got home form work Monday night to discover that my heat had gone out. This was an issue because A: The Landlord had just put a new furnace in a couple of years ago, and B: It was too bloody cold out to not have heat! I wasn't about to pay for an after hours service call, so I piled every blanket in the house on my bed, trained the space heater on the foot, and hoped for the best. It was the best night sleep I've had in FOREVER. Nightshade was so cold that she burrowed in under the blankets with me- I woke up to find her lying along my chest with her head tucked under my chin on the pillow.

Got up, called the HVAC company, and the office to let them know I'd probably be late, and then started the waiting game. They told me that because I'm in a rental, I have to get HIM to call and give them permission to work on the heater. This also stuck HIM with the bill, so I was fine with that. It took a little while to track HIM down, since all we had was his home number and he's changed jobs several times over the last few years. I finally remembered what I thought was the most recent one, called them, and got HIM!

Cutting the story short, after numerous phone calls back and forth and a trip on the slow boat to China to pick up the needed part, I finally got heat again at 8:30 Tuesday night. YAY!

Anyway, the day wasn't entirely a waste, even though I'm not thrilled that I had to burn another vacation day for that crap. I started cleaning up the piles that have accumulated in my living room since last year's big clean. Seven grocery bags of junk made it out to the trash can. It's still a mess, but at least I got started.

Today I got up and made myself sit down and make arrangements to get caught up on all the bills that are past due. I already feel better now that I'm not stressing about dealing with them. Then the GI doctor FINALLY called to schedule my scopes and wanted to know if I could be there TOMORROW. Um, no. Since I'd have to spend a day (today) taking laxatives and living in the bathroom, taking today & tomorrow off with no notice after being off for yesterday's drama was NOT an option. But I did schedule it for Monday...lord help me. (don't expect a post on Monday)

I brought a bag of assorted flosses to work with me tonight and got them all wound onto bobbins. I am going to try not to buy much stitch stuff this year (especially since I didn't stitch an inch last year) and start working on projects from my stash. I have Star Trek, Avengers, and Doctor Who things to do for myself and some friends, and I want to work on Christmas ornaments for friends & family. I suspect that I'll still buy some stuff- Ink Circles has several new designs scheduled for release this year that I am not going to be able to resist, and I'm still a floss junkie- but I think I can do it.

So there's the latest. A little drama, but I'm proud of myself for getting things done instead of falling apart!

Happy (?) New Year

I may as well start the year out complaining. 2014 couldn't leave without a few parting shots to remind me that it sucked ass.

1. Mom developed a problem with the eye she had cataract surgery on. The panicky eye doctor sent her for a MRI to make sure she wasn't having a stroke or anything like that. Luckily, she wasn't, so now she's being sent back to Dr B to be tested for a sinus infection or to see if it's some sudden diabetes complication.

2. Dad, who objects to going to PT to build his strength up, keeps trying to do things on his own and falling. Luckily he hasn't hurt himself yet.

3. I ruined the ham we had for Christmas dinner. It was mostly edible, but NOT the delicious feast we were planning on.

4. The thyroid tumor is now exactly half the size of what's left of the thyroid. I get to go see the surgeon again and we get to fight with the insurance company over whether or not we can just remove the damned thing or if I get to have a needle jammed into it again first. Dr B. decided that wasn't enough to deal with, so I also have appointments to have my boobs mashed and a camera shoved up my ass. And I'm still too fat for his taste.

5. My car started doing all kinds of not-so-neat tricks. Two days at the mechanic for them to do the repairs that it turned out were part of the recalls on my vehicle and for them to come up with enough time to find something wrong that I'd have to pay for. Bob needs a $250 part (not including labor, of course) that I just can't do until later this month. The kicker is, of course, that the longer I go before I can afford the part, the more likely it will go from the $250 repair to a $1500 one.

6. The cousin my mom was closest to, Aunt Georgia, died yesterday. There's a winter weather front moving into the Iowa area (hoping it blows itself out before it gets here) and with Daddy's shakiness and needs, there is NO WAY we are driving into a snowstorm to go to the funeral.



On the plus side:

1. I still have a job even if I hate it most days.

2. I still have both my parents, even if they drive me crazy.

3. I still have my Shady-cat, who is very cuddly in winter weather.

4. I have a ton of new books to read.

5. I have a ton of new DVD's to watch.



Let's see what this year does to me...

This is what happens when I work a double shift and the office is TOO DAMN HOT

So, around the beginning of the shift, I posted on Facebook that the office was too hot and if it didn't start cooling off, I was taking off my pants. (I did NOT mention the shorts I had in my car to change into)

The responses to that ranged from "Whoo-hoo!" (thank you, Martin) to "Pictures or we don't believe you." (Be careful what you ask for)

About 3 hours later the temperature had actually RISEN 3 degrees, so the jeans came off. The shorts went on, and to amuse my friends, I took and posted a picture of my legs propped up on the desk. (From mid-thigh down so it looks like I'm running around the office in my underwear)

About 30 seconds after I posted it, my cell phone started ringing, the office phone started ringing, and my FB feed went nuts. The smarter of my friends figured it out, but still thought it was hysterically funny, especially as I've been in a very down cycle lately.
The more obnoxious of my officer friends started calling people and telling them to look at it. I've also been informed that a van load of guys on a stakeout nearly blew their cover when one found it and screamed "Holy shit, Mickey has lost her motherf'ing mind and is getting nekkid in the property room!!!" Amusingly enough, HIS SGT. was one of the first people to respond online.

So, if nothing else, I have at least had some fun tonight and made it go by a little quicker. And I'm sure I'll get an earful from my bosses on Monday...except for the one on my friends list who is probably choking on his beer.

If I ever figure out how to add photos to my blog, I'll share that shot. :-)

ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

So, 5 days before he was supposed to go home, Daddy was re-diagnosed with pneumonia and sent back to ICU. Due to the usual incompetence issues with the staff, we've been spending nights there to INSURE he's being treated properly. 2 of my sisters came up to help out with this.


He's been doing well, so we left him alone for about 4 hours this morning. Angie was at her hotel, I was at home, and Mom left him at about 3:30 a.m. At 7 we all got called and told he was having seizures & "coding" and we should come ASAP.

We got there, damn near kicked in the ICU door, and rushed into Daddy's room only to find him snoozing peacefully and thoroughly startled when we all started crying and hugging him.

Turns out there was a bit of a mistake. The patient in room 548 was the one coding/seizing. Dad is in room 584. Guess which family was mistakenly notified?

The idiot who called us is not having a good day. I raised hell, Angie (the most peaceful, calm, non-violent one of my sisters) raised hell, the correct patient's family raised hell, and the nursing supervisor raised hell after we all got through chewing on her.

Daddy? After the ruckus died down a bit, all he wanted was some breakfast and a nap. And then the doctor told us they might move him out of ICU today. We're still waiting for that to happen.


I dare these morons to send us anything resembling a bill for "services rendered." So far, all they've done is further endanger my father's health, stress the entire family out, and PISS ME OFF...