Twenty Four At Heart

Potpourri

I hope you had a nice weekend!

I've had house guests here for the last five days.  Even the best house guests are exhausting, don't you think?

Or maybe I'm just old.

I feel like I need to be Happy!  And Up!  And Chatty!  And Cooking!  And Cleaning!  And Entertaining!  all day long every single day while they're here.

It's so much easier to be grouchy, and lazy ....

In the theme of laziness, I thought I'd give you a few random updates today.

1.  Whirlpool came out five days earlier than expected and fixed my "failed" three and a half year old front-loading washing machine.  I was thrilled with their earlier-than-expected response time.  The final cost of the repairs was over $1,600 and Whirlpool charged me nothing.  I haven't written about the repair, because I wanted to use the machine for a week or so, and make sure it continued to work.  It has, but the other day I found water sitting in the empty tub, again.  The repair people had told me this happens when the pump fails and they just replaced the pump so I don't know what the deal is.  It's only happened once.  Maybe it was some weird fluke?  

I'll contact Whirlpool once my guests leave to take a look at it if it happens again.  The important thing is, I can do laundry again including the daily cleaning of my son's always-filthy baseball uniform.  

Thank you Whirlpool! 

This is what my son's uniform pants looked like five minutes into his game last Friday:

And that is why I need to do laundry every night!

2.  Several of you have asked why I might be traveling to Cambodia.  I've been invited by the Plasticos Foundation to travel with them to document and photograph a medical mission in June.  It isn't definite yet whether I'll be able to attend, but I'm working hard on the details in an attempt to take them up on this amazing opportunity.  As you may recall, the foundation travels to third world countries and performs life-changing surgeries to aid people with birth defects, malformations, and disfigurements caused by trauma.  In addition to changing the lives of the patients they attend, they also train the doctors in the countries they visit.  The doctors they train are then able to continue helping patients after the American medical team has departed.  

Everyone who travels with the Plasticos Foundation is required to work, and non-medical personnel are not normally permitted on these trips.  I'm incredibly honored they've invited me to come along to record this medical mission (with both my writing and my photography).  I'll let you know, as soon as I know, if I'm able to pull off the logistics to make this trip happen.

3.  It was pretty hot here this weekend.  Some of us will do anything we can think of to cool off.

He sits on the "beach" area of our pool to cool off.  Then he wades in and swims.  Then he sits back down on the beach for awhile.  He thinks it's his swimming pool.  (And for those who have asked in the past, we brush him daily so the pool doesn't end up full of dog hair.)

4.  I spent Saturday afternoon at Fashion Island in Newport Beach.

Fashion Island is an outdoor, swanky, high-end, mall.  You can see the ocean from the mall.  A Nordstrom store just opened at Fashion Island on Friday.  In spite of the fact we have several other Nordstrom stores in Orange County, the entire OC seemed to show up for this big (!) excitement.  

??

Personally, I went to people-watch.  I rarely buy anything at Fashion Island, but it may be the best people-watching anywhere in The OC.

However, this trip I dog-watched instead.

I've never seen so many dogs inside a department store in my life.  I counted twenty five dogs inside the brand new Nordstrom store during the short time I was there.  (And that was just on the ground level!)  I'm not talking (only) about little, tiny, dogs either.  Several of the dogs began growling and barking at each other and the owners just laughed as if it were all very amusing.

Two dogs started to fight in the shoe department.  

Seriously, Orange County?

I'm a total, complete, dog lover and I found it ridiculous, inappropriate, and annoying.  

One dog ran in circles around me wrapping its leash around my ankles.  What would happen if that same thing occurred with an elderly person and they fell?  And what happens when someone gets bit by a dog while buying their $2,000 designer purse?  Does Nordstrom want those lawsuits? 

Not to mention, some people are allergic or afraid of dogs.

What the hell Orange County?  Do you really feel so entitled, you don't think you need to concern yourself with the well being of the other people around you?

And Nordstrom, what are you thinking allowing dogs in your stores?  If they aren't guide-dogs/canine companions, they shouldn't be there.  It's not the beach, it's a department store. 

Oh wait, I forgot, dogs aren't allowed on most beaches here either.  So why are they allowed in our department stores?

5.  My arm is bad.  Very, very bad.  The pain is the worst it has been in months, and I've lost a lot of function since The Torturer stopped treating me in February.  It's very discouraging.  And painful.  And did I mention ... painful?  I've put it off for as long as I can, I'm going to have to call my doc this week and get back into treatment.  You have no idea how overwhelming the very thought is.  Or how depressing.  Or discouraging.  And did I mention it has been very painful?  As in, waking-me-up-several-times-each-night painful? Ugh .....!!!

6.  Hummingbirds live in Orange County year round.  They're definitely thirstier once the weather warms up though.  I was sitting out by the pool yesterday afternoon and they kept buzzing around my head.  I don't know why, but they always make me smile.  

I like to think our yard is a friendly place for them to hang out.

© Twenty Four At Heart

The Joys of Childhood

 

Orange County has its faults, but there are some wonderful memories to be made for those who grow up here.

© Twenty Four At Heart

Adrift in Chocolate

This isn't what I was going to write about today, at all.

No, I'm supposed to be dieting, remember?

Hmmm ... I think I blew it already.

My daughter returned safely from her spring break trip and is now back at college.  

Did you know I gave birth to her when I was only a toddler?

It's true.

It might have been a miracle.

Anyway ...

While she was gone she visited Finland, Russia, Belgium, and Estonia.

Some of you live in those very places.

She had a great time and returned with gifts.

These Belgian chocolates are tiny, little, slivers of melting deliciousness!

She brought an entire box of them home.  They are pure, rich, sweet, goodness. 

I have readers in Belgium.  I'd just like each and every one of them to know I can be bribed with chocolate.

It's a terrible weakness.  

Especially when I have PMS.

She also brought home chocolate waffles.  I had never heard of chocolate waffles before.

They are about three inches across ... about the size of a large American cookie.  They're crisp like a cookie also.  They were made by Dumon Chocolatier and they're to die for.  Honestly, they are perhaps the best treat I've ever experienced.  Someone needs to hide them from me because I absolutely can't resist them.  I could eat a bazillion of them in one sitting - they are that good!

I think maybe they're just cookies in a waffle shape?

Also?

I really need to do some traveling.  I haven't been to Europe in years.  Her photos brought back all sorts of memories.  The hotel she stayed at in Belgium was right on a canal.

Belgium is nothing like Orange County.

Of course, no place is like Orange County.

I live in a strange little bubble filled with sunshine, beautiful beaches, and plastic real-life Barbies.

Please send chocolate!

(I better go exercise now ....)

© Twenty Four At Heart

Life's Little Twists and Turns

I'll be honest, I've got a whole lot of nothing in my head right now.

Actually, I've got a whole lot in my head, but just not in bloggable form.

This is possibly because I'm exhausted.

So I'll ramble a little and who knows, maybe you'll enjoy the rambling.

Why am I exhausted?

Well, there's a few things going on.  Briefcase has been traveling nonstop.  That's nothing new, of course, but his travel has included most of the last two weekends.  It means I haven't had any down time for awhile.

There's also the whole my arm hurts like hell and I can't sleep thing.  That isn't really new either, but I've had a bad flare up lately so boo hiss on living with chronic pain.

I took two pain pills this week.  I took both of them at night (two separate nights/one pill each time) with hopes of being able to sleep.  I haven't taken any pain meds for nearly two months and it made me angry to need them.  

My increased pain level is camera-related.  

I'm not giving up photography.

Some of you have inquired, and no, I don't have a new physical therapist.  My PT days are probably over for good.

The Torturer has re-signed with Blue Cross and is taking Blue Cross patients again, by the way.

I don't feel like I can go into more detail on those last three sentences, so I'm just going to leave it at that.

My daughter is no longer in Russia, but she's still in Europe.  She's traveling on her spring break.  She's worked three jobs while going to school and is paying for her trip herself.  I may live in Orange County, but I'm not a typical Orange County parent.  If I was, she wouldn't be working three jobs and paying for her own vacations.

My apologies to the responsible parents of Orange County.  I know not all of you fit the stereotype.

There's a possibility I might be going to Cambodia in June.  It's only a maybe-thing right now, but it's directly related to 24.  It's amazing how Twenty Four At Heart keeps providing twists and turns and unexpected opportunities in my life.  I had no idea, when I began blogging, 24 would end up having such a profound affect on my life.

Do you remember, I told you I won the magic potion lotion called Youth Complex at the Plastic Surgery Party?  The company that makes Youth Complex saw my post.  They've asked me to review their product.  I don't agree to product reviews most of the time, and I do get a lot of companies requesting them.  In this case, I agreed because I'm, so far, loving (really, really, loving!) the product.

However, I agreed with the following understandings:

1.  I will be nothing but candid and honest when I do my review.

2.  They must provide product for me to give away to YOU, my readers.

A box arrived with product on Monday.

I'm going to use Youth Complex (and the eye formula which they also sent) for a couple weeks longer to get a better feel for it.  Then I will let you know what I think of it in a combination review/giveaway.  If I end up disliking the product, I imagine no one will enter the giveaway.

My house is really LOUD right now, and it makes it next to impossible to write.

I can't wait for Friday!  I hope each and every single one of you who has ever taken a photo will join in on the very first Twenty Four At Heart Photography Friday!  

Woo Hoo!

I'm so excited!

© Twenty Four At Heart

Fun Facts

** I'm giving away a beautiful photography book this week.  Click here for details. **

Fun Fact #1:  I took this, very (!) bad, photo of myself with my MacBook yesterday afternoon.  Do you like the messy, un-brushed, hair?  (Seriously, I'm not sure I even brushed it with anything other than my fingers yesterday!)  

Did I photoshop away enough of my wrinkles?

The reason why I'm sharing this, less than flattering, picture is because I just received the shirt I have on.  I ordered it from Boden.  I've mentioned before, I like some of their clothes.  It was really hot here yesterday and this top was cool, comfortable, cute and ... just a little bit sex-ay due to the low-cut.  I always like to share a good find on Twenty Four At Heart.  (No, I'm not getting any freebies from Boden).

Fun Fact #2:  Someone on Twitter used the expression, "Omigod I just pulled a TwentyFour!" to explain something embarrassing she'd done.  It made me laugh.  Then I thought about it for a minute, and now I'm not sure if I should be flattered or insulted?  

Fun Fact #3:  My friend Mr Lady gave me the greatest tip on Twitter the other day.  I was cooking a dish with a lot of garlic in it and my hands reeked of it.  Mr Lady told me to rub my hands on stainless steel and the smell would go away.  I'd never heard of doing this before and, I admit, I was skeptical.  But guess what?  It works!  It might have looked a little odd as I gave my appliances a hand job, but the garlic smell disappeared completely.

Am I the only one who didn't know this trick?

Fun Fact #4:  Today is Day #4 of my 1,000 calorie per day diet.  In reality, I think I'm actually getting around 1100 calories each day.  I'm trying to do this for two weeks to kick-start my body into losing some weight before summer.  I don't know if I've lost anything yet, but I'm definitely eating healthier.  I'm also hungry.  I'm using SparkPeople to track calories and nutrients.  The most interesting part of the experience so far has been realizing what I DON'T have enough of in my diet.  (Vitamin C, as an example.)  If nothing else, it's making me very conscious of eating healthier which is always a good thing.  (And no, I'm not following the SparkPeople diet plan.)

Fun Fact #5:  I had a pukey kid home for the beginning part of this week.  If I catch what he had?  Shoot me.

Fun Fact #6:  Someone in my immediate family departed for Russia this week.  It wasn't me or Briefcase.

Fun Fact #7:  A local Orange County woman recently got upset with me for swearing on Twitter.  If you're on Twitter, you know swearing is extremely prevalent there.  Also?  clearly, this woman was not a 24 reader or she would have already known I'm not a G-rated blogger.

I woke up in a lot of pain that particular morning and I believe I tweeted something along the lines of, "Holy shit my arm hurts.  Fuck you Anthem Blue Cross for taking my PT away from me."  This particular woman replied back to me her son had read my tweet and I needed a time-out for cussing.

Excuse me?

If you know me at all, you know I absolutely cannot keep my mouth shut at times.

This was definitely one of those times.

I replied back this is why kids should not be on Twitter.

She replied back this is why [she] would "unfollow" me.

My reply?  

If you're easily offended, you never should have followed me in the first place.  Be a responsible parent and don't let your young kids read the Tweets of adults you've followed.

Fun Fact #8:  There are a LOT of women in Money Town right now who look like chimpanzees.  

 

Why?  

They've botoxed their faces to the point where their faces don't move at all.  Their eyes look permanently startled or frightened due to a combination of botox and bad brow lifts.  They've put so much filler in their lips, they flap in the wind.  But worst of all, they've added fillers to their laugh lines (parentheses) around their mouth.  Women here are going so overboard on the fillers, they look horrible.  Honestly, it looks like they're walking around with snouts.

Stop it Money Town women!

It doesn't look good - it looks ridiculous.  

And glaringly obvious.

And many of us are laughing at you.

And in a year or two you will look back at photos of yourself and say, "Omigod - what was I thinking?!"

Because that's exactly what I'm wondering right now.

What the hell are you thinking?

© Twenty Four At Heart

Time Suck

Baseball season has begun.  

My son is a high school freshman.  His team played six games over the last eight days.  This week they "only" have four games.  I'm already re-developing last season's bleacher butt and there's a long, long, season ahead of us.

I love baseball, don't get me wrong.  I've always loved watching all three of my kids participate in sports.  It's just a tremendous time suck.

Also?

Do you have any idea how ridiculous some of these competitive Orange County parents are with their kids and sports?  Sheesh!

Wish me a baseball season filled with patience, patience, and more patience.

Also?

The ability to keep my smart-ass mouth closed ... the most difficult task of all.

(** The above photo was taken by a friend at the moment of contact on a home run hit by my son a couple years ago.  Awesome photography!  The ball is actually flat from the force of the hit - so cool! **)

© Twenty Four At Heart

Beautiful Day at the Beach

I'm continuing on with my overbooked, totally insane, chaotic week.

I'm exhausted and it's only Wednesday.

My son, PR, turns 15 today!

Woo hoo!  

We make a big deal out of birthdays at our house.  It's my fault.  I put a lot of stress on myself to make a BIG DEAL out of every birthday in our family.  I want people to make a big deal out of my birthday too.  I believe everyone deserves their very own day to feel like the truly special person they are.

On a totally separate note, I have the funniest story to tell you!  You will laugh your ass off ... unless it offends you, but I don't think my readers are easily offended.  Otherwise, you wouldn't be my readers, right?  Except for the one woman who wrote me one day to say she had been reading 24 "for a really long time" but I deeply offend her on a regular basis and she wouldn't be coming back to read "ever again."  She had never commented or emailed before so I never knew she was there in the first place.  It was hard to feel heartbroken over THAT loss.

In any case, I can't wait to tell you my funny story.  I need to find some time to sit down uninterrupted so I can write it up.

Maybe tomorrow?

If not?

Soon.

Very, very soon!

Yesterday I was running around Orange County like a chicken with its head cut off all day.  For most of the day, I dragged my oldest son around with me.  He's only home for one week and if I can't be home with him while he's here, I like him to come with me so I can spend time with him.  He actually doesn't mind, which shocks the hell out of me.

Anyway, we stopped for lunch at the pier in San Clemente while we were out and about.

 

I forgot to bring my most-loved camera, but I did have my point and shoot in my purse.  I was glad I had it with me, because it was a beautiful day. 

I'm going to indulge myself in a little bitch session here and say these photos don't really do the scene justice.  I can't believe the difference a camera can make in picture quality ... I've gotten spoiled by my other camera. 

But ... any photo to share the day with you, is better than no photo, right?

We shared a bucket of steamed clams for lunch.  I tried to sneak a photo in when the waiter turned his back.

 

After lunch, we went for a walk on the beach.  There's nothing like sand between my toes to make me relax.  We only had a little time, but we enjoyed every minute of it.  It was sunny and pretty, but windy.  The wind created a lot of white caps on the ocean.  I was glad I wasn't out on a boat yesterday because the water was really rough.

 

In less than two hours our lunch and walk were done.  It was a short break in an otherwise chaotic week, which made it all the more special.  As the rest of my week carries forward, I know I'll think back on the time we took for this little break with a sigh.

 

What did you do last time you were able to grab an hour or two to enjoy yourself and/or relax?

© Twenty Four At Heart

Bleh, Bleh and Bleh!

I think I'm suffering from food poisoning or some such thing.  Maybe by the time you read this I'll be better.

Saturday night we ate at a Mexican restaurant.  We've been there a few times before and the food is always good.  We all ordered the exact same meal.  (Something which rarely happens with my family.)  Right after dinner, PR departed for a friend's house to spend the night.

Not twenty minutes later, I was curled up in a ball with intense stomach cramps.  Briefcase was fine.  He looked a little frustrated, because ... hey - no kids in the house for a change.  I don't think listening to me moan was what he had in mind.

(Actually, it's exactly what he had in mind, but ...!)

I dug through our cabinets for stomach remedies and went to bed.

In the middle of the night I heard our phone ring, but then it stopped.  I thought maybe it was just a dream.  Awhile later, I heard the faint muttering of voices ... and then nothingness.

In the morning I learned PR had called from his friend's house at one in the morning.  He was feeling really sick to his stomach and wanted to come home.  Being the good mother I am sick myself, I never even woke up.  Briefcase answered the phone and drove to pick him up and bring him home.

Yes, you can nominate me for mother-of-the-year, why do you ask?

Briefcase, by the way, is fine.  

PR and I spent Sunday laying around doing nothing.  Between the two of us we might have consumed two pieces of toast over the course of the last 24 hours.  I feel perfectly fine except for my stomach ...  and oh, how miserable my stomach is.

I'm thinking it must be something we ate, because what are the chances of us both falling ill with the exact same symptoms within a few hours of each other?  Plus, neither of us has a fever.

On the positive side?

Maybe I'll lose an ounce from not eating.  I have the metabolism of a snail so it would be unrealistic to expect to lose more than an ounce.  

I also went through a lot of Lynda.com tutorials while sitting on the couch.  (And for those of you who asked, I'm finding them pretty informative.)  It wasn't exactly the conclusion I wanted to my weekend, but I suppose it wasn't a total waste of time.  After all, now my brain is a little smarter and my weight is a full ounce lighter.

Lastly, I tweeted my way through the Grammy awards.  I'm sure everyone enjoyed was annoyed by my (very) smart ass comments through the entire show.

Did I mention ... bleh?!

© Twenty Four At Heart

Bits and Pieces

I'm going to be touching on several topics, briefly, today.  I know you must love when I ramble on and on about this and that.  Nonetheless, there are a few things I want to update you on and none of them are worth an entire post on their own.

By the way, I might sorta be on drugs.  I don't think I need to confess that, but I better in case this post doesn't make sense.  Or in case I have a lot of typos.  Or something.  Only a little itty bit of drugs (and totally The Torturer's fault), but I'm warning you just in case ....

1.  First of all, wow!  Yes, wow!  Thank you so much for your support yesterday with my new photo gallery.  Honestly, the best people in the world come here (and there!) to visit.  I don't even know what to say except THANK YOU for being so supportive and just plain wonderful!

2.  Apple announced the new iPad yesterday.  I've never heard as many period-related jokes in my life as I did in the first hour after the announcement.  Clearly Apple needs a female on their marketing team.  There's not a woman on earth who would have suggested or approved iPad as a name.

3.  I'm taking three classes right now.  I feel like a full time student again.  First, I'm taking a Photoshop class.  So far, I've primarily learned how much I don't know about Photoshop.  I'm also taking a photography class.  The instructor thinks I'm really good at landscape photography.  He made me happy, giving me a lot of really positive feedback.  He also told me he can make me even better by teaching me "a few tricks."  Then he informed me I pretty much suck at portrait photography.  Um, maybe that's why I don't shoot people very often?

Shoot people?

It sounds so violent.

In addition, I'm taking some online tutorials (various topics) at Lynda.com.  It sounds so wrong when I tell my family I need to be left alone for awhile so I can "go do Lynda."

4.  I barely have time to breathe.  Maybe one class at a time would have been a better idea?

5.  Remember when my son was injured during football season and had to be rushed in for ankle surgery?  Well, he's still going through physical therapy, but he's almost done.  He is doing GREAT!  In addition, the baseball coaches at his high school have bent over backwards to accommodate him.  The freshman baseball team was announced this week and he made the team.  He's thrilled.  I'm very happy for him and also relieved.  My son lives for baseball, it's hands down his favorite sport.  He would have been crushed if he couldn't play due to a football injury.  (No more football in his future!)  

There will be a lot of high school baseball games for me to attend in upcoming months.  

Bleacher butt here I come!

6.  The Torturer put me in the worst pain imaginable last Monday.  I haven't been back to PT since.  (For a host of reasons, not just because the man hurts me.)  In any case, I'm hoping in another day or two the pain will have mellowed out to the point where I might be able to sleep through the night.  I'm verrrry tired from all the pain.  Boo Hiss on The Torturer!  (Also?  I bet he really misses me a lot!)

7.  There's a town in Canada named Lower Sackville.  I find this exceedingly funny because I have the sense of humor of a 12 year old boy.  One of my twitter friends is Canadian and informed me there is a Middle and Upper Sackville also.  Another Twitter friend chimed in with a town she encountered named Glory Hole.  ("I just entered Glory Hole - it's rockin' my world.")  

Yes, I use Twitter to further my intellectual development, why do you ask?

© Twenty Four At Heart

So Ready For The Weekend!

My weekend began a day early.  Yesterday my oldest son, RC, and I spent the afternoon at the beach.  It was beautiful.  It was fun.  We relaxed and watched the surfers.  It was probably my last time alone with him before he heads back to college early Sunday morning.

I wish he didn't have to leave.

© Twenty Four At Heart 

The Eleven Foot Tree

I've gotten several requests for pictures of "that eleven foot tall Christmas tree."

If you find this post boring, don't blame me.  The squeaky wheel gets the grease around here.  (Except when the squeaky wheel is a perv or a troll - they get their IP addresses blocked.) 

Before I show you a picture of the tree in it's entirety, I should explain why our tree is decorated the way it is.

Many, many years ago, a man who worked for Briefcase gave us a beautiful ornament as a gift.  It was made by Christopher Radko, a company I was unfamiliar with at the time.  The ornament was made from mouth blown glass.  It was both whimsical and old fashioned at the same time.  I treasured it.

The employee who gave it to us informed me his family purchased one of these special ornaments each year to add to their collection.  I was inspired to begin the same tradition at our house.

I won't lie - Radko ornaments are very pricey.  Briefcase has never gone with me to purchase them and I think he might fall over from sticker shock if he did. 

Some things are better left unknown between spouses, don't you agree?

The tradition in our house has been slightly different than the one Briefcase's employee had.  Each year I purchase one new Radko ornament for our family.  In addition, I give each of my kids a new Radko ornament as one of their Christmas gifts.  Often the ornament I give them reflects something about their life in the past year.  When they eventually have their own homes, they can take a box of these beautiful ornaments with them to begin their trees.

The year the World Trade Center fell I selected this ornament as a remembrance for our family:

When one of my son's spent most of his free time golfing one year, he received this golfing Santa as his ornament:

The blown glass is very fragile.  These ornaments aren't for Briefcase's toddler hands.  

A lot of our ornaments reflect the beach lifestyle in one way or another like this sunbathing Santa.

And also this snowman:

  

Some of the ornaments are very whimsical like this moose.

 

Or this dog with a spring for it's middle:

 
 In addition to the many Radko ornaments, I tie ribbon on the tree and add some gold accents.

I also liven it up with a few BIG decorations.  A big tree needs a few sizable things on it to break it up visually. 

OK, are you ready to see the whole tree put together now?  It looks better lit up at night, but (sorry) I took this photo during the day.  

Here you go ... all eleven feet of it!

 

© Twenty Four At Heart

Family Time! And Stuffing Too - Don't Forget the Stuffing!

Many of you remember reading about my oldest son a few months ago.  Last August I dropped him off in North Carolina, three thousand miles away from home, to begin his freshman year in college.  I sobbed, I cried ... and then I went off to have cocktails with some of my readers while I was there.

What?

My readers are the best - they made me feel better!  (Yes, they did!)

Others of you may remember even further back when I put my daughter on the wrong train to send her back to college.  It was one of my most stellar (!) mom-moments.

Doesn't it just make you want to stick around for the next few years and see what I'll do to my third child?

Heh ....

Last night my daughter drove home (arriving late) from her college which is here in California.  My eldest son flew in from North Carolina and arrived home even later than my daughter.  

My youngest still lives at home, of course, and he was overjoyed to see his brother and sister again.

No, really he was.  

I'm exhausted from the late night reunions.  I'm also overjoyed to have my family all together for the Thanksgiving weekend this year.

And thankful!

I will be doing a ton of cooking over the next few days.  I will get a few posts up on Twenty Four At Heart over the next few days also, but they will most likely be light and fluffy.  Or short and sweet.  Or ... something like that.  I know you understand.

In the meantime, I'm always curious to hear about other family's Thanksgiving traditions.  I realize many of you are reading from other countries and don't celebrate Thanksgiving.  However, even if you don't celebrate Thanksgiving where you live you can still probably answer this question ...

What kind of stuffing/dressing do you like?  What is your family's favorite?

Cornbread?

Sausage?

Plain?

Let me know!  I'm nosy.

P.S.  As many of you have requested, I've turned off word verification in my comments section.  It's now easier and much faster to leave comments.  You're very welcome!

© Twenty Four At Heart

Birthday Wrap Up

I will be back to regular posting (whatever that is!) tomorrow.  Today is a hodgepodge post in the wake of my 24th birthday celebration yesterday.

First things first ...

Thank you to everyone who participated in yesterday's birthday celebration.  There were two hundred entries in my contest.  I really enjoy giving things away.

#1  The contest winners are as follows:

$100 Amazon Gift Card = Jan

$ 60 Amazon Gift Card = Dogmother

$ 40 Amazon Gift Card = Lorna

$ 40 Amazon Gift Card = Ballerinatoes

Congratulations to all four winners!  Please email me with the email address you would like your gift card sent to and I will get them sent out to you in the next 24 hours.

#2 I had a very nice birthday.  My family surprised me in the morning with this:

That funny looking thing on the seat is a bow.

I was so excited about my new bike!  First of all, it is RED!  Second, it is an Electra Beach Cruiser ... which I've wanted for a few years now.  Third, it has an old lady basket!  I plan to still be cruising the beaches on it when I turn 80 ... and since I'm only 24 now that means I have a lot of bike riding years ahead of me.  The only thing missing is a bell and I plan to buy one this week.  Yes, I will be that old lady on the bike at the beach!  The very thought makes me smile.

Isn't it pretty?  (And it's RED!)

#3  PR had his post-op appointment yesterday with the orthopedic surgeon.  They took X-rays which were very ... sobering ... to look at.  However, the doc said all the bones are now lined up "perfectly" in PR's ankle.  He also said PR should be 100% for baseball season this year (which is his passion).  I can't even tell you the sense of relief the appointment gave me.  It was the best birthday present I ever could have gotten.  

My kid is going to be okay.

#4  I lifted TWO POUNDS at physical therapy yesterday!  Well, if I'm being honest The Torturer moved my arm for me while I laid on a table with two pounds in my hand, but I sorta did it!  I know it sounds incredibly pathetic to all of you, but it has taken me three and a half years to accomplish this!  I felt happy and proud and excited ... even as I swore at The Torturer for the very idea of it.  

I believe I might have said something like, "What's the point of doing this when you are moving my arm for me?"  All the while, inside, I was thinking, "Oh my God, I'm doing it ... albeit with help, but I'm doing it!"

Small steps ... small steps!!

Go me!

#5  I came home to these after physical therapy:

Pretty, aren't they?

#6  I had a nice afternoon.  I got a lot of birthday phone calls, cards, and emails from friends and family.  It made me feel loved.  Sometimes it's nice to know people are thinking of you.

#7  Briefcase, PR and I went out to dinner.  It was PR's first real outing since his surgery.  Right before we left I noticed the full moon rising over my mountains.  It was beautiful.  It seemed like a perfect ending to a wonderful day.

© Twenty Four At Heart

In Honor of Halloween

In honor of Halloween, and all things spooky, I thought I'd share this picture.  It's an X-Ray of a repaired Triplane Ankle Fracture.  That's right, this is what the inside of my son's ankle now looks like.  (Although this isn't his ankle ... we won't see his post-surgery X-rays for a couple weeks.)  The screws connect the three broken bones.  They will most likely stay in his ankle for life unless the metal causes problems and needs to be removed at a later date.

The poor kid was not out socializing on Halloween.  Instead he was home recovering on Vicodin.  It's no wonder, don't ya think?

© Twenty Four At Heart

Monday Will Be a Big Day!

Next Monday is my 24th birthday and I'm planning a celebration for you!

I'm so excited!

I love birthdays and I think I could use need some fun this year.  Things have been too stressful lately. 

** Don't miss out - make sure you stop by on Monday! **

In the meantime, I'm going to be busy taking care of my son over the Halloween weekend.  I imagine we'll be watching a lot of movies together.  The poor kid has had a very rough month.

Of course, I might need to dress up a little to scare the Trick Or Treaters.

 

I'm so attractive! 

Happy Halloween!  I hope you have a fun, safe holiday!

© Twenty Four At Heart

Surgery Update

Wow - the outpouring of support has been amazing.  Thank you so much!  I feel incredibly grateful to have so many friends wishing my family well during this very stressful week.

Thank you!

My son is out of surgery.

Yay! 

I've been incredibly stressed out - can you tell?!

Dr. Schobert (aka: Dr. BigWig - my shoulder doc) is an amazing surgeon and I can't tell you how thankful I am that he was able to take care of PR ... and so quickly, also.

Sometimes it pays to have friends in high places.  

The doctor feels the surgery went well.  PR now has a nice chunk of metal in his ankle holding together the three broken bones.  It may (or may not) have to be removed at a later date.  

The doc filled PR's ankle with lots of numbing drugs which should last him through the afternoon.  (He's asleep right now.)  Tonight will probably be a very different story, but we've got Vicodin on hand and ready.

Now we just pray that he heals correctly, quickly, and without too much pain.

Thank you EVERYONE for being there for us!

© Twenty Four At Heart  

Shut Up - I Hate Football

** I know several of you requested a reprint of my Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Cookie recipe for Halloween.  I had planned to post it today.  Due to the insanity that was my evening last night, I will be posting it for you tomorrow instead.  I promise! **

I've had a very high stress week.  (Maybe even month if you take into account our Swine filled house!)  Last night I was cooking a really nice dinner ... chicken kiev if you must know, when suddenly it sounded like a herd of elephants had entered the house.  I glanced at the clock.  It was 40 minutes before I expected PR to walk in from football practice.  

A minute later a group of high school players noisily appeared in my kitchen carrying PR.  They seemed to fill the entire room. 

"What's wrong?  What happened?" I asked, alarmed.

They tossed PR on the couch none too gently.  He winced.  I could tell he was fighting back tears.  PR has sat through 25 stitches and not winced one bit.  This did not look good.

"It's XXXX's fault!" one of the football players proudly told me.

I looked at XXXX.

He looked down at the ground sheepishly.

"I tackled him," he said.  I could tell he felt horrible.

Tackling PR in practice is what he is supposed to do.  I know that.

I looked at my son.  I took in his cantaloupe sized purple ankle.  I thanked the players for getting him home and into the house as they left.  

PR informed me, "I was going this way, but when XXXX tackled me, my ankle went that way.  The coach told me I should walk on it, but I can't."

WTF, Mr. Coach??

I propped PR's ankle up on some pillows.  It did not look good.  I put a bag of frozen peas around his ankle.  (Frozen peas conform around an injury better than ice.  Not that I'm an injury expert at this point in my life or anything.)  I got him two Advil to take and I texted The Torturer.  

"How can I tell if PR's ankle is broken or sprained?" I asked.

"You can't.  You need an x-ray," he promptly texted me back.  The Torturer then proceeded to give me some first aid tips for immediate treatment.  Sometimes I actually like that man, but please don't ever tell him.  Really, he'd get a big head if he thought I liked him even a little bit.  

I gave PR a plate of chicken kiev and veggies because food trumps pain with teen boys every time.  He inhaled a full plate of food in less than five minutes.  Then we were on our way to Urgent Care.  Yes, this was our second trip for this football season.  I think it might mean that boys who are 5'8" and only 115 pounds are really not cut out for football (no matter how fast the coach might think they are.)

It was not a fun drive.  PR was really hurting.  This is how mothers age ... watching your kid in pain is guaranteed to give a person wrinkles.

At Urgent Care I helped PR hop into the waiting room.  Unlike the big enormous football players, I'm not able to lift him.  The staff promptly brought him a wheelchair.

As it turns out, the doctor on call had two sons go to the same high school where PR goes.  Both of them also played football there several years ago.  I patiently listened to the doc proudly go on about what a great football program the school has.  He looked at PR's ankle and informed us he was "out for the season."  I already had figured that much out on my own.

Then I waited for PR to be wheeled to and from the x-ray room.  As I waited I cringed at the thought of having to inform the high school baseball coach about PR's injury.  Baseball is PR's main sport.  The baseball coach will not be happy.  Would any of you like to volunteer to inform him PR is out for the next several weeks?  I would really appreciate it.

Eventually the doc returned to show me "an area of concern" on the x-ray.  "A possible fracture, but it's hard to tell because it's near his growth plate," he informed me.  He said he would need a radiologist to confirm it for him, but there was no question PR has, at minimum, a bad sprain. 

I informed him I would prefer to take the x-rays with me for my orthopedic to take a look at in the morning vs. waiting an entire day on the radiologist.

"You won't be able to get in to see an orthopedic that fast," he informed me.

"Yes, I will," I replied.

He looked at me skeptically and asked who my orthopedic is.

I informed him he's Dr. BigWig.

"He's way too busy to see you that soon," he countered.

"He'll see us in the morning," I replied.  I was growing weary of this debate.  

I did not have the desire or energy to explain about my car accident, my six surgeries or the fact that I'm Dr. BigWig's personal career challenge and friend.  Dr. BigWig loves me, is a regular 24 reader, and has pretty much adopted me as a member of his office.  

Dr. BigWig will see my injured son.

"Your son is going to need some physical therapy in a few weeks," the doctor added.

"I've got it covered," I informed him nicely.

(At that very minute, a text message from The Torturer arrived on my phone asking how PR was doing.)

The doc looked at me questioningly.  I know he probably thinks I'm a Very Important Person With Lots of Medical Connections.  I was too stressed out to explain.  And really, it would take an hour to explain, wouldn't it?

The doc splinted PR's ankle and brought him a pair of crutches.  Forty five minutes later we were home.  I was wondering how in the world to get him out of his pads.  Also, how in the hell to get him in the shower when he's splinted and can't put any weight on his foot?  He was a few hours into practice when he got hurt ... the kid needed a shower.  

Me?  I needed a glass few bottles of wine.

Also?  Thank God he's out of football for the rest of the season.  There's only so much a mother can take.

© Twenty Four At Heart

Appraising? Or Judging?

Where to start ... where to start?

Did you know I have a high IQ?  I'm just pointing that out because you would never believe it if I didn't tell you in spite of that amazing fact, I have Idiotic Episodes on a fairly regular basis.  Maybe I should make Idiotic Episodes a new category in the sidebar of 24?

We're in the process of refinancing our house.  We're doing it to take advantage of lower interest rates.  Or better said, we've got two kids in college right now and college costs a shitload of cash. 

Briefcase is in charge of the refi.  It's only fair.  He travels all the time on business.  I'm responsible for absolutely everything else in our lives since he's never home.  It seems only right that he gets to handle The Refi Project.  Also, I don't have any a lot of patience for that sort of thing.  

In addition, I've kind of been a walking disaster lately.  (See yesterday's brazilian waxing post if you question the validity of that statement.)  I'm blaming H1N1 and Tamiflu for every absent minded thing I do.  Seriously, I don't think the drug is out of my system yet and I'm blaming it for Mental Confusion because I can.  (See the Tamiflu listed side effects and you will see Mental Confusion listed!)  It would not be a good idea for me, in my current mentally confused state, to be in charge of refinancing.

(By the way ... yesterday Briefcase asked me exactly how much my little "incident" at the waxing salon cost to repair.  Can you believe it?  He never would have known if he would just stop reading my blog!  Who told that man I have a blog?)

(Also, yesterday The Torturer stood there just shaking his head at me in amazement  in bewilderment  totally dumbfounded as I told him about the "waxing mishap."  He says he "just doesn't know why" I "seem to have so many more mishaps than other people."  Do you think he was insulting me by saying that?  I don't think the man appreciates the humor I've brought to his life at all.  Let me tell you, he would be bored to death without me.  I'm sure of it.)

(Also, yesterday I got an email from my old college boyfriend.  The email said he had just finished reading that very same brazilian waxing post and wanted to know "how much of that story was real?"  Um, ex-boyfriend?  I can't make up shit like that.  I wrote back to him and said, "All of my posts are real, aren't you glad you escaped me?"  He didn't reply, so I take that as a resounding YES!  He's probably laughing his ass off at Briefcase having to pay for shattered hurricane lamps.)

What was I saying before all those parentheses?

Oh yeah, the Refi.

So, an appraiser was supposed to come out to our house this Friday for about 45 minutes to take a look at our house and take photos.  This was a good plan because every Friday a house cleaner comes to our home to do all the things I can no longer do since the car accident.  You know, things that take two working arms like changing sheets and mopping floors and tedious chores I could do but pretend I can't.  Mr. Appraiser was going to come when the house would be clean and sparkly for pictures.

Except, Mr. Appraiser showed up yesterday!  Yesterday was only Wednesday.  Yesterday was not Friday.

Briefcase forgot to tell me there had been a change of plans.

I answered the door, flipped out when Mr. Appraiser explained who he was, and slammed the door shut in his face.  Well, I didn't really slam the door shut, but I sort of did.  Then I reopened it and said, "Just give me a minute, I'll be right back," and shut the door in his face again.

I looked around at the clutter on my coffee room table.  I grabbed magazines and books and newspapers and scooped them in my arms.  I tossed the whole mess in the oven to hide it.  I saw a few dog toys on the floor.  I picked them up and hurriedly tossed them into the pantry.  I went back to the front door and opened it with a smile.

Well, who knew?

Mr. Appraiser was very thorough!  

Mr. Appraiser made notes on the type of oven I have right before he opened the door of it revealing the newspapers and magazines I was about to bake.  Mr. Appraiser wanted to see our "walk-in" pantry also.  He discovered 1) It is not a walk-in pantry and 2) We have dog toys sticking out of cereal boxes.  

Mr. Appraiser liked our pool and the large upstairs deck we built onto the house.  I'm not quite sure what he thought when he went through our bedrooms though.  I was downstairs on the phone as he made his way through them.  It wasn't until later in the evening that I realized my rabbit was sitting out in plain sight on my bedspread.

Do you suppose it increased the value of our bedroom?

© Twenty Four At Heart

Updates For The Curious

Welcome to today's hodgepodge of unrelated topics.  There's a reason for this crappy disorganized post, but I'm not sharing it.  Instead, I'm just going to update you on some topics I've written about recently.  I'm really behind on email and many of you have sent in questions or comments.  Hopefully as I ramble today I'll answer some of your questions.

By the way, before I get started ...

I love writing Twenty Four At Heart.  I also love every single one of you who takes the time to stop in to visit.  When you have time to leave a comment, send an email, tweet me or contact me in any way I'm thrilled.  (Except for the emails from That Perv and he knows who he is.)  I try my hardest to get back to you, but as 24 has grown it hasn't always been possible.  Recently, a few people have been quite blunt in letting me know I suck.  I do - I admit it.  I apologize.  

I'm doing the best I can.

Ok, then.

Spanderella.  As a reminder, Spanderella is the married woman who wears only skimpy amounts of spandex and haunts PT.  My post on her didn't fool many people in the Money Town community.  I tried to disguise her identity but no fewer than six people contacted me knowing Spanderella's correct identity.  It must be a new Money Town game ... read Twenty Four At Heart and guess which resident might be hidden in a post.  

I will do better in disguising my "characters" in the future.  (Either that, or maybe I'll start giving a prize to the first person to correctly identify them?)

A Harmless Affair?  Infidelity is a topic everyone seems to want to discuss, and discuss, and then discuss some more.  I can't believe the number of people who have shared stories of love and betrayal with me since this post published.  I will be sharing some of those stories with you, but I'm trying to space them out a little so I don't overwhelm you with nonstop relationship stories.  I'll have another one written up soon.

Going Brazilian  I doubt many of you have forgotten that I "live tweeted" my first-ever Brazilian Bikini Wax last month.  It's now four weeks later.  The salon I go to requires a return visit every four weeks for all of their Brazilian customers.  Guess where I will be today?  

 

Ouch!

My friend, Jane Devin, has begun her amazing journey around the United States.  She has already begun blogging about her trip, but her website address has changed since I wrote about her.  If you're interested in following along on her journey you can find Jane at Finding My America.

I'm not very good at keeping secrets.  I'm very excited about something I will be sharing with you in a few weeks ... closer to Thanksgiving time.  For now, all I can say publicly is that I think you will be very interested in the topic.  Ok, I can't resist.  I'll give you one hint.  Dr. Nichter might be involved.  Do you remember him?  

I haven't seen The Torturer in ten days because I've been busy taking care of my very sick son.  Ten days doesn't sound like a long time, does it?  Ten days of no torture is wonderful in many ways.  On the other hand, since I can't move my arm myself, I'm very dependent on having him move it for me.  When that doesn't happen all my surrounding muscles begin atrophying and causing problems.  I will be reunited with The Torturer tomorrow.  I expect it to be a painful wonderful reunion. 

Also, my son is feeling better - thank you to all of you who have been wishing him well.  I know some of you have emailed requesting my Chicken Soup recipe.  To be honest, I don't have one.  I make it slightly different each time depending on what ingredients I have on hand.  I will try to post a basic Chicken Noodle Soup recipe (as it exists in my brain) later this week.  Probably on Friday - but don't hold me to that, okay?

One of my favorite holidays is coming soon.

I've always loved Halloween.  

My 24th birthday will be on the Monday after Halloween, November 2nd.  To celebrate, I have something very special planned for you.  Mark your calendars!

Oh, I can't wait!!

© Twenty Four At Heart

Better Than Medicine

My son, PR, is turning the corner and feeling better.  H1N1 be damned!

© Twenty Four At Heart

I'm Mentally Confused - I Think?

I am not normal.

I don't know why that is?

I've been home all week caring for my son who was diagnosed with H1N1.  He's sleeping a lot.  I think he's getting better.  He's on a lot of medications and drinking tons of fluids.

As you may remember, the doctor also felt I had caught H1N1 and put me on Tamiflu.  I didn't even feel very sick.  One of the possible side effects of Tamiflu is mental confusion.

Seriously.

Am I not mentally confused enough already?

I have been so scattered.  I can't seem to think in a straight line.  Thank goodness I've primarily just been at home playing nurse because I think I'm a danger to the world and myself right now.

Have you gotten a confusing email from me?  Have I responded to an email you sent me twice?  Or not at all?

I honestly don't know what the hell I'm doing right now.

Two days ago, I desperately needed a few things at the grocery store for my son.  It was raining.  There were no cars in the parking lot.  I parked right in front of the store.  I bought the needed groceries and then spent fifteen minutes looking for my car in the parking lot when I was done.  

Yes, I did walk right past my own car several times in the process.  

I know I'm blonde ... but, really?  

This is not like me.

I am an efficient, organized, woman.

I think.

Or I was?

That same day I was discussing music with a friend.  I couldn't remember the names of songs.  I couldn't remember which artists wrote which songs.  I'm a total music buff.  Finally, I decided to stop discussing music because clearly, I really know nothing at all.  

Except, I think I do.

Or, at least, I did prior to taking Tamiflu.

I won't even tell you about my attempts at cooking.  I *might* be forgetting things like turning the stove on ... or worse, turning the stove off.  

To put it mildly, I'm no longer trusting my own judgment on anything.  I have to take Tamiflu for three more days.  I don't know how long the drug will stay in my system after that.  At what point might my mental acuity return?

In the meantime, the other day it rained until afternoon.  Then the sun came out for awhile and the clouds cleared.  Not long after, the sun began to set.  I looked out our back window at "my" mountains.  They looked so beautiful and so vibrant in color.  

The mountains often look pink or red or purple as the sun sets.  This time they looked even more purple-ish.  I was amazed.  I took a photo.  Then I wondered if they really looked that purple, or maybe it was an illusion born out of my druggy confusion?

Aren't they beautiful?

© Twenty Four At Heart

Dr. Phil & The Mommy Wars

Last August I went to a taping of the Dr. Phil show.  The show aired yesterday.  Many of you emailed me to let me know you saw me on TV.  A few of you sent me emails with opinions on the somewhat controversial show.

I intentionally didn't tell you ahead of time I would be on TV yesterday.  I was secretly hoping they would cut me out of the episode.

Why?

I am basically a very shy person.  The idea of all of you watching me on TV freaked me the hell out.  Also, I was very nervous when all the cameras came out of the ceiling and walls to film me.  My voice wavered and I may have stammered a lot and I pretty much looked like a loser.

Plus ... omigod ... have any of you ever seen yourself on a 50 inch flat screen?  Holy hell!  Where's Dr. Nichter when you need a shitload of immediate on-the-air plastic surgery?

Some people knew they were going to be filmed when they went there.  They got their hair and make-up professionally done.  I was just there.  Dr. Phil talked to me during a commercial break and then asked me talk on camera for a few brief moments.

The episode was on the mommy wars.

They wouldn't let us take cameras into the studio so these photos are all pictures I took of my own TV screen yesterday as the show aired.  

No bitching about photo quality, okay?

Dr. Phil wanted a controversial show to improve ratings so he intentionally pitted working and stay at home moms against each other.

I didn't like the whole concept of mom against mom.  Here's a very crappy photo of me looking serious while talking to Dr. Phil.  All those lines across my chin and neck are from the TV.  I swear.

I didn't know what the show was about when I went to the taping.  I thought it was going to be about bloggers.  The most successful mommy blogger in the country world was a guest on the show.  Some of you know Heather Armstrong as Dooce.  I sat in the row behind her during the taping.  After the filming concluded, I met Heather and her husband, Jon, and their new baby, Marlo.  Heather was very nice.  

The primary spokesperson for the stay at home moms was Jessica Gottlieb.  Jessica voiced strong opinions when she had opportunities to speak on the show.  Dr. Phil called Jessica "sanctimonious" and "judgmental."  I don't think Jessica agreed with him on either of those descriptions.

So what did I have to say while on the Dr. Phil show?

Really, I didn't have much to say.

"Can't we all just get along?" or something along those lines.

And yet?

I'm practically a celebrity now, don't ya think?

© Twenty Four At Heart

Fighting the Swine

** Congratulations to Jack for winning the LUSH bath product contest!  Jack, please email me with your mailing address and I will get the products shipped out to you right away.  Thank you to everyone who participated.  **

My youngest son, PR, has been sick for at least ten days.  We took him to the doctor over a week ago and they said "it's just a cold-like virus, there's nothing you can do but wait it out."  He's in high school and can't afford to miss a lot of school.  He was home for two days and then went back to classes, football, and baseball practices.

He's coughed his way not so happily through the last week and a half.  Yes, that's right.  My kid has been one of the many people exposing everyone else to his germs.

Two days ago he came home from football and told me he really didn't feel well.  Then he jumped in the shower to erase the football mud and blood.  He came downstairs for dinner a few minutes later and just stared at his food.  If any of you have ever been around teenage boys, you know they never stare at food.  Teen boys inhale food at an alarming rate.  I felt PR's forehead.  He was burning up.  By that time it was 8:00 p.m.  A few minutes later we were headed to a Doc in the Box, better known to some of you as an Urgent Care Medical Facility.

My son, PR, tested positive for H1N1, more commonly known as Swine Flu.  This is our family's second brush with it.  My older son contracted it at his college about a month ago.  Fortunately, my older son was given Tamiflu in the first 24 hours and as a result, he had a relatively mild case.

We are waiting to hear if PR's H1N1 has progressed into pneumonia.  His cough is deep and the doc said his lungs "do not sound good."  They took a chest X-ray and we're waiting for the radiologist's report as I write this.

I know it does no good, but I'm more than a little pissed that PR was misdiagnosed in the first place.  When H1N1 is treated with Tamiflu in the first 48 hours, the illness is much less severe.  H1N1 is much more serious in the under 18 age group than it is for adults.  Now my son is very, very, ill and Tamiflu will do no good.  In addition, the illness very well might have progressed to pneumonia which is not only scary, but also can take months to recover from.

Wouldn't you think, given the media coverage of the H1N1 pandemic, the doctors would be immediately testing for it and not brushing people off with the "it's just a virus" statement?

I woke up yesterday with a sore throat and low grade fever.  Normally I wouldn't consider going to the doctor for such mild symptoms.  However, knowing I've been living with H1N1 germs for ten days now, I made an appointment to get checked.  This was a different doctor than either of the two my son saw.  This doctor said my throat is very inflamed and I "probably" am catching H1N1.  He didn't even order the H1N1 test.  He prescribed me Tamiflu and told me it's "very common" to feel dizzy and sick to your stomach as a side effect of taking Tamiflu.

Do I take it?  So far I only have a sore throat and fever.  Do I want to take medication for an illness I might not even have?  Especially knowing the medication will most likely make me feel sicker than I do now?

On the other hand, someone has to be healthy enough to take care of my son.  I've got a chicken staring at me from the fridge waiting to be made into chicken soup.  Well, it isn't literally staring at me because it no longer has eyes.  It's eyes are with it's head ... some place other than in my refrigerator.

Did I mention I'm really pissed about my son's misdiagnosis?

© Twenty Four At Heart

It's His Middle Finger and That Seems Fitting

** Before I get started for today, here are the results of the Anne Taintor Coaster giveaway.  I used a Random Integer Generator and it said this:

Here are your random numbers:

47

The 47th comment was left by Shari.  

Congratulations Shari!  Please email me with the mailing address you'd like the coasters and cocktail umbrellas to be sent to.  **

----------------------------------------

I had all sorts of wittiness inside me for today's post but my writing time was interrupted by a mini-family emergency last night.  

My son, PR, is about to begin his freshman year of high school.  He's currently busy with Hell Week in football.  (It actually lasts for two weeks so that it can be more hellish than everybody else's Hell Week.)  They are practicing six days a week right now.  

Orange County is having an amazing heat wave, by the way.  One of my OC Register (newspaper) friends told me it was 108 here yesterday.  Lovely weather to wear helmets and football pads in.  Yesterday was the longest day for the football team.  We left at 6:50 a.m. and my son didn't walk in the door at the end of the day until 6 p.m.  That's a lot of hours out in incredible heat.

His face was sunburned.  He was hot, dehydrated, very bruised from a day of "hitting" and very cranky.  

Then he waved his middle finger in front of my face and said, "And look what happened!"

His middle finger was HERE.  

But it was also over ..............HERE.

It was blue, purple, and all lumpy and deformed.

I have two sons.  I've seen my share of jammed fingers.  I've even seen a few broken ones.  This just looked ... not right.  A finger really isn't supposed to be in two locations at once.

So instead of writing you a nice witty post for today, I asked him to please go take a shower.  

Yes I am THAT mom.

He was literally dripping with sweat and I saw no reason to get into a car with his stench so I made him go shower.  While he did so I made him a French Dip sandwich and cut up some fresh pineapple for him.  He's always starving after football.

He ate on our way to an Urgent Care facility.

Briefcase was somewhere a few thousand miles away, of course.  He's never once been in town for any of our family emergencies.  He wasn't answering his phone either.

I don't know what it's like where you live, but here there are no quick trips to an emergency room or Urgent Care facility.  I spent the entire f*cking evening waiting around with him for x-rays, etc.

He's fine by the way.  The doc (not an orthopedic) *thinks* his finger was dislocated but popped back in on its own.  She also said she doesn't *think* there's a fracture, "but there might be."  

"It's awfully swollen," she said.  "And look how discolored it is!"

She was very insightful.  I *think*.

She told him not to play football for a few weeks.  PR rolled his eyes because the coaches will have him playing again today.  She taped his hand all up, and I'm quite sure the coaches will add more tape when he arrives at practice.

I'm sorry the whole incident interfered with my writing, but hell ... this is my life!  

Welcome to it!

© Twenty Four At Heart

Miscellaneous Moments & BTW The Torturer's Back

It seems like I have so many things to share with you, but many of them aren't worth an entire blog post of their own.  I thought I'd catch you up on some random news and thoughts.

1.  Time magazine did not list Twenty Four At Heart as one of the top 50 websites in the world.  Instead, they picked sites like Google, Amazon, Twitter and Netflix.  Those Time people have no sense of humor whatsoever.  I'm sure they'll realize their mistake in time for next year's selections.

2.  I was filling out high school registration paperwork for my son yesterday.  School starts here in about two weeks.  The registration form asked, "Does your child have a probation officer?"  He is fourteen.  Fourteen!  (I answered: not this week!)

3.  I danced in a cemetery, in a dress, before the taping of the Dr. Phil show.  I didn't tell you this before because I'm sure it's disrespectful and maybe you're offended by dancing in cemeteries.  I got carried away with all the pretty grass and flowers.  I want you to know, if I was buried there I'd smile if someone showed up feeling joyful and wanting to dance.  It would make me smile even when I was already dead.  It would probably even be the highlight of my deadness.

4.  I get PR offers from companies all the time.  I don't think you come here to hear me talk about products so I ignore them.  Yesterday I was contacted by a company offering me a free 3 month supply of a diet product.  They "hope" I'll choose to talk about it here with you after trying it.  I should have been insulted, but I was too busy eating my lunch when the email came.

5.  I'm debating taking the diet company up on the offer just for the potential jokes their product would offer.  Shhhh!  Don't tell them.

6.  I tweeted that I was mildly insulted by the diet product company.  I posted pictures of myself two days ago and then BAM! I heard from a diet company.  Another blogger responded and told me she was offered a product for balding women.  She made me feel much better.

7.  My post yesterday about One True Love generated a ton of Twitter responses/comments and emails.  If you have a minute, read yesterday's comments.  The honesty and raw emotion in the responses floored me.  I'm always so touched when people are willing to open up and share with me.

8.  I mailed my son his first college care package.  He forgot his flip flops here and called asking if I could mail them back.  You can take the kid out of California, but you can't take the California out of the kid.

9.  I saw my shoulder surgeon for the first time since summer began this week.  He told me my breasts are "very perky."  Does that seem odd to anyone?  Granted, he is the one who insisted I have breast reduction surgery to aid in regaining use of my arm.  And yet ....

10.  I didn't inform him I now have bionic nipples too.  

11.  The doc was not impressed with the fact I've taken most of the summer off PT.  Not at all.  I've been sentenced ordered scheduled to return immediately.  He is 100% convinced it will improve my arm function somewhat from its current uselessness.  I begin today.  FML.  (For those of you unfamiliar with FML it means Fuck My Life.)

12.  I left the doc's office and literally ran into The Torturer.  You know, that stubborn man who thinks he's my physical therapist.  Yes - I ran into him.  As in my body crashed into his.  I think he planned the whole damn encounter with my doctor.  They conspire together.  It's infuriating.  I know you love him.  I know you miss Torturer stories.  I hear about it from readers all the time.

13.  He hugged me.  Yes, The Evil Torturer hugged me and told me I have appointments booked with him even though I cancelled them all.  He said I need to get over being pissed off at him.  "Get over it."  That's what he said, very matter of factly.  I like being pissed off at him.  It gives me an outlet for my arm frustrations.  I enjoy having the outlet.  How dare he ruin it with hugs and niceness and blah, blah, blah caring about me crap.  What an exasperating asshole man.

© Twenty Four At Heart

Girl Time in Charlotte, NC

I'm back in Orange County.  I'm trying to get caught up from nearly a month of traveling.  It's been hectic.  I've been in four different time zones in the last four weeks.  My body doesn't know what the hell I'm doing.  

Last Friday morning I said good-bye to my son, RC, as I left him at his dorm.  I cried.  I know he'll be fine.  It's just a mom thing.  It's not easy to take care of a child for 18 years and then drop him off 3,000 miles away.  I then drove Briefcase to the airport and saw him off to California.  I drove down to Charlotte from there.

The entire reason I went to Charlotte was to meet up with a few of my readers who have become online friends.  The nicest people in the world stop by here for a few minutes each day.  Many of them take the time to leave comments or send me emails while they're at it.  In the dinosaur days these people would have been called pen pals.  I like to call them friends.  

Each of these ladies traveled a minimum of two hours to our central meeting spot.  Not only that ... they showed up bearing gifts.  Such nice people!

[L to R: Angela (from NC), me, Renee (from NC), Linda (from South Carolina), Di (from Virginia)]

I'd like to inject here my theory that southern accents are contagious.  If I were around these ladies for more than a few days I'd probably have a southern accent for life.

We met at a restaurant called Roosters.  Obviously, I'd never been there before.  It had been highly recommended.  Maybe it's a great place to go for entrees, but their happy hour (appetizer) menu left a lot to be desired.  Who would have thought a place called Rooster's would be putting on airs trying to be fancy?

Five very hungry women ... and this is what we got.  I really was just hoping for a burger.  Wouldn't you think they'd at least offer chicken sandwiches in a place called Roosters?  We tried a couple other things too.  For the most part?  Bleh!

Despite the food, which left a lot to be desired, I think everyone had a good time.  I know I did.  

One of the greatest moments for me, was getting my hands on a couple of huge cocks.

Instead of huge should I say well endowed?

The meet-up gave me an opportunity to get to know all of these great women a little bit better.  It gave them the opportunity to meet the "real" me and ask any questions they wanted to.  

In response to one question, I tried to explain I just have the oddest luck.

"I don't really walk around like this," I said as I pulled the front of my top down to expose my bra and breasts.

At that very moment, Fernando, our waiter, came around the corner and found himself face to face with my exposed chest.  The ladies erupted in laughter as I turned the deepest shade of red.  Fernando became an instant friend.

(That's how it works.  If I show you my breasts, accidentally or not, you have to be my friend!)

The next day (Saturday) a few of us spent the morning at the, very nice, South Park Mall.  I went to my first Dillards and later had exactly one sip of Sweet Tea.  I liked Dillards a lot more than I liked Sweet Tea ... which is really, really, sweet!

I flew home Saturday night.  My youngest son, PR, surprised me and accompanied Briefcase up to LAX to pick me up.  My daughter surprised me by being home from her college when I arrived back to our house.  I think they were both worried about me being sad after the North Carolina drop off.  It made me feel very loved.

I got home just in time.  Briefcase's birthday was on Sunday.  He might have had some highly acrobatic husbandly expectations for his birthday.  There's never a moment to slow down and rest, is there?

© Twenty Four At Heart

A Touch of the South

** I'm driving to Charlotte, North Carolina TODAY!  Anyone in the area is invited to join me for Happy Hour at Roosters in the South Park area.  I will be arriving there around 4:30 in the afternoon and I may not leave until closing.  **

Being here in The South is an interesting experience.  I never realized how much of a California girl I am.  It's beautiful here.  I still can't get over the trees.  There are trees ... big, huge, enormous trees everywhere I look.  I've never seen so many trees.  I've never seen so many BIG trees.  They are spectacular.

The people in The South are so damn friendly.  They're fantastic!  They're warm and inviting and full of hospitality.  I have to stare at their lips when they talk though to decipher what they're saying.  They add extra syllables all over the place with their southern drawls.  Haiiiiiiiiiiiiii there!  I love it, but I have to listen closely to always understand.

My husband was served grits with his breakfast.  Grits!  I want to know if grits are a vegetable?  What exactly are they?  Where do grits come from and whose idea was it to eat them?  I tasted them and all I could taste was lots and lots of butter.  Why not just melt butter and sip it?  Are there any vitamins in grits?  Are they good for you?

I was given a biscuit with my breakfast and they asked if I wanted gravy on it.  Gravy?  I eat gravy exactly once each year.  Gravy is for turkey on Thanksgiving.  What are they thinking putting gravy on biscuits?  I declined, although I've been told I missed a "treat."

We spent the day getting my son settled in his dorm room.  His lost baggage showed up in the afternoon.  (I still hate you American Airlines!)  Mid-day, I sipped lemonade under a big, big, tree and felt very Southern-ish.  Later I was told that lemonade on a hot day under a big tree is sort of Southern-ish, but it would have been more Southern-ish if I had been drinking Sweet Tea.  I've seen Sweet Tea here, but I've yet to try it.

I feel like Scarlett O'Hara from Gone With the Wind by just being here.

There are big, ghastly, bugs here called cicadas.  

They make a lot of really loud noise.  Some of my Twitter friends told me they are flies on steroids, nuclear mutant grasshoppers, and the state bird of the south.  I don't like cicadas one bit.  They creep me out.

I've been told they also have fireflies (sometimes called lightening bugs), but I haven't seen one yet.  I'm very disappointed because I've never seen a firefly in my life.  My Southern friends tell me I'm missing out on one of the great joys in life and I believe them.

I really want to see a firefly. 

Will someone capture a few in a jar and fed-ex them to me before they die?  You think I'm joking, don't you?

I'm not.

I went to a special reception with the Dean of my son's new college in the late afternoon.  I had to wear a dress.  (Horrors!)  There were a lot of people in a crowded reception hall with no air conditioning.  I was dripping unladylike sweat.  I realized then I'm nowhere near ladylike enough to live in The South.  

There are a lot of very proper women here.  They don't sweat or anything.  I'm not very proper at all.  I imagine most of the proper women here would be quite appalled by me.  I apologize to each and every one of them right now, upfront.  I apologize for sweating in 90 degree heat and amazing humidity.  (By the way, humidity is not a good thing if you want your hair to look nice!)  I apologize for not being the least bit proper in every other way also.

In the evening, we had dinner with a few other parents.  We went to a very nice, but casual, restaurant and sat outside.  An outdoor fan blew on us and it felt good because it's very hot here.  It's hot even at night which is very different from California where the nights are cool even on the hottest of days.  It was a fun evening, the people we were with were wonderful and I really enjoyed myself.

Today I will see my son for exactly ten minutes in the morning to say good-bye to him.  I will be sobbing.  Then he will be whisked away for all sorts of orientation activities for the remainder of the day.  I will attend a parent orientation for most of the morning.  I will most likely be crying so badly that I'll have to be escorted out.  I'm not good at good-byes.  

After that I will be driving to Charlotte where I hope to meet several of you in the late afternoon/evening.  I might drink heavily to distract myself from the fact I have just dropped my son off 3,000 miles away from home.  I hope all of you who can will join me!

© Twenty Four At Heart

North Carolina & Dr. Phil Because I'm Random Like That

** I will be in Charlotte, North Carolina this Friday, August 21st.  Anyone in the area is invited to join me for Happy Hour at Roosters in the South Park area.  I will be arriving there around 4:30 in the afternoon and I may not leave until closing.  **

I spent all day yesterday traveling from California to North Carolina to get my son settled for his first year of college.  On the plane I looked over at him sitting next to me.  I stared at his profile and thought back to when he was a baby, a toddler ... a young boy.  Then I turned and looked out the window and stared at the clouds and forced myself to think about other things (like the fact I need new tires for my car) so I wouldn't cry on the plane.

It didn't really work.

It's not easy letting go.

I've never been to North Carolina before but my son has been here before. 

We have some long time friends who live in the city of Greensboro.  They are the nicest people you can imagine.  They were kind enough to open their home to us last night when we arrived.

After a long day of traveling, it was great to have their company and some real (vs. airport) food.  I haven't seen much here yet.  Lots of greenery as we landed was followed by lots of greenery on the way to our friend's house for dinner.  By the time we left their house it was dark.

I can't get over how many trees are here.  They're beautiful.  Here are just a few in our friend's backyard.

American Airlines managed to lose my son's luggage with the stuff he's supposed to be moving into his dorm today.  We're hoping they locate it soon.  This did not make me happy - at all.  

Asshats!

I don't have much else to share with you today.  I'm simply too exhausted.  I've tallied it up and realized I've only gotten five hours sleep in the last 48 hours.  I'm running on empty.  

Am I even making sense?

Oh wait ....

Several of you asked about the Dr. Phil show.  I was present for the taping of two episodes.  In one episode I just sat in the audience hanging out.  La-dee-da for me!  I will probably appear in some of those shots where they scan the audience with the cameras.

The other episode is the one most of you have inquired about.  Yes, it was the show Heather Armstrong will be appearing on.  It will air sometime in September.  And yes, I did have the opportunity to meet her (and her husband and her new baby) after the show.  I don't have any pictures to share because we weren't allowed to bring cameras or phones into the studio.  The topic of the show was working vs. stay at home moms.  You can read more about the Dr. Phil taping by clicking here.)

I will most likely appear on TV for a few fleeting moments once the episode airs.  I'm hoping I get edited out because when all the cameras came out of nowhere and focused on me I almost peed my pants.  I don't even remember what I said, but I'm sure it made no sense.  Also, I'm sure you'll be surprised to hear that after the cameras were off, I *might* have realized my dress was showing off way too much cleavage while they were filming.

I know that comes as a huge surprise to all of you.

© Twenty Four At Heart

Ho Hum - Another Day

Last night I was thinking about various topics I could share with you today.  The truth is, after writing about Mooning Amtrak on Monday, and Sir Issac Newton being responsible for the hole in the crotch of my lingerie on Tuesday, I was stumped.  How does a person follow up topics like those?

I get emails and tweets and comments from people who think I have an exciting life.  I really don't.  In fact yesterday was pretty typical in being about as boring as possible.  I thought I'd give you a glimpse into my real life today.  Try not to yawn too many times as I give you a recap of yesterday.

6:00 a.m.  Physically I'm up drinking coffee and stumbling around the house, but my brain is still on snooze.  My brain doesn't wake up for a good two hours after my body is awake.  I've got a killer headache and I'm blaming The Torturer and my return to PT the previous day.  And where the hell are PR's football clothes?

6:30 a.m.  I check my email inbox and Twitter replies while sipping on my coffee.  A TV show has contacted me and is interested in my "story."   I wonder if they mean Mooning Amtrak, my crotchless Spanx, or something else entirely?  Or is it some type of prank email?

6:45 a.m.  Wake up PR.

7:15 a.m.  Send PR off to football camp

7:30 - 8:00 a.m.  Reply to emails and tweets.

8:00 - 9:00 a.m.  Shower, shave legs, shampoo, blow dry, use vibrating mascara.  Admire my new boobs in the mirror.  Wonder when, and if, my nipples will ever stop being bionic?  Stare at Spanx warily but don't put it on.  Get dressed.

9:00 a.m.  Take other son to oral surgeon for wisdom teeth removal.

10:00 a.m.  Sit across from my son in the recovery room.  He's stoned out of his mind on the drugs they gave him.  He keeps staring at me with a goofy grin on his face and saying, "This feels niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice!" over and over again.  Immediate concern about him leaving for college sets in as I see how much he enjoys the drugs.

11:00 a.m.  Arrive home with drugged son.  He made me laugh so hard on the drive home I nearly wet my pants.  Good thing I wasn't wearing any "shapewear"!  Change bloody gauze in son's mouth for the first time.  Gag.  Realize I'm not nurse material.  Gag again.

11:15 a.m.  Leave for pharmacy to get son anti-nausea prescription to counteract anesthesia.  Think about returning home to bloody gauze and pop one of his pills myself while still in the car.  I think it might be illegal to take your kid's drugs but who cares.

11:40 a.m.  Give son medicine, prop him up on pillows, give him ice packs.  Don't gag thanks to taking son's medicine.  Pride myself on being a good mom.

12:00 noon  At local smoothie store.  Order smoothies for both of my sons.  After paying I remember they want protein powder in their drinks.  The owner throws it in for free and I feel like I got a bargain.

12:30 p.m.  Hand drugged son his smoothie and a spoon.  Go upstairs to give other son his smoothie.  Come downstairs to see stoned son is missing his numb mouth and blueberry smoothie is running down his shirt.  When I point this out to him he begins giggling as only a drugged person can.  It makes me laugh too.

1:00 p.m.  I'm at the grocery store buying soft foods for RC to eat the next few days.  Pudding, jello, yogurt, eggs.  As I'm leaving a day laborer wanders in, grabs something and runs out to a waiting car without paying.  Right in front of me!  This is not something you see in Money Town ever very often.  After the initial shock wears off I actually feel sorry for him.  Not that I'm condoning stealing, but how desperate for food does a person have to be to do that?

2:00 p.m.  Arrive home.  Unload groceries.  Check on boys.  Take care of RC's immediate medical needs.  Pay bills.  Did I mention paying bills is the chore I hate most?  It's boring, it's tedious.  I get up fifty times during the process to procrastinate.

3:30 p.m.  Leave for a long overdue manicure.  My nails look like angry, ragged, claws.

4:00 p.m.  At the salon.  Marvel at how many bad face lifts exist in Money Town.  With all the money these people have, why don't they get a decent doctor?  Two ladies have foreheads that go clear to the other side of the room.  Their hairlines are all wrong.  Another woman looks as if her lips might go airborne any second.  They're so big they look like giant flapping wings ready for flight.  Cock my head sideways and imagine moving their faces around to make them look normal again.  Sigh and give up.

5:00 p.m.  Home.  Briefcase calls from his business trip and as soon as I say hello he announces he can't talk "right now" but that he'll call me right back.  Puzzled I hang up.  Why did he call to tell me he can't talk?  A minute later he calls again, pauses for a minute, and then again tells me he can't talk and will call back later.  I debate saying, "Don't bother" but instead I shrug and hang up. 

6:00 p.m.  Order pizza for PR.  Throw football clothes in the laundry.  Give RC a bowl of pudding and more drugs.  The pizza arrives as I'm completing a few chores.  I snag a piece and eat it while I check email again.  It's then I receive news that a friend is finally out of a full day cancer surgery.  My stomach has been in knots all day thinking of her.

7:00 p.m.  I sit down with my laptop.  My Google Reader is exploding with reading material I haven't gotten to.  I have a lot of people I owe email responses to.  Mr. Producer has emailed again to tell me it's the car accident "story" his TV show is interested in.  For some reason this makes me pensive.  There's a lot of bad memories there and I decide I'm not ready to respond to him.

7:30 p.m.  I check Facebook for the first time in eons.  Immediately a chat box opens.  A friend is wanting to chat about some pretty deep issues.  We Facebook Chat for awhile.  The conversation is making my brain swirl with thoughts and issues.  At the same time I'm worried about my friend with cancer and the email from the producer.  Do you ever feel like there's just too much happening all at the same time?

8:00 p.m.  I tell my friend we'll have to talk more later.  I need to write a blog post.  At the same time my Twitter account is practically yelling at me to respond to people.  My Google Reader is reminding me of all my writing friends' blogs I've neglected lately and my email inbox is screaming accusations at me.  I try to push it all out of my brain.  I stare at my laptop.  I ponder what to write.  I think about my boring day ... and I begin typing.

© Twenty Four At Heart

Football and Vaginas Don't Mix

All of you Football Moms out there?  Please don't email me complaining about this post.  I know you exist.  I guess I should have titled this post Football and My Vagina Don't Mix.

OK, now that I've covered that ...

I read somewhere (I can't remember where) that men think vaginas resemble footballs, is that true?  I don't understand the concept at all, but I'm not a man.

Anyway, my youngest son graduated from middle school last Thursday and began high school football yesterday.  He's never played a minute of football before.  He's (maybe) 5'8" and 115 pounds soaking wet and with his cleats on.  In other words, he's very skinny.  He's not exactly a typical football build.

My older son played high school football too, but to be honest Briefcase handled all the details.  I was going through all my car accident surgeries at the time.  If I did handle any of the details, I've forgotten them.  My life was a drugged up haze for a few years.  I went to all of the games, of course, but I don't remember football details.

We're a baseball family.  Both of my boys have played year round baseball since they were toddlers.  I know a lot about baseball.  No, let me clarify that, I know more than most baseball-crazed men do about baseball.  In contrast, I know the basics of football.  I mean, I hope what I know is enough to be considered the basics.  

What I'm really saying is, I don't know much at all about football.

I'm at the two week post-surgery point and I'm getting out of the house now.  I'm supposed to be resting, but let's face it - I'm going stir crazy.  I've been to two movies in as many days.  I drove the football carpool yesterday.  I'm taking it easy.  I'm not moving my arms a lot and I'm not lifting anything, but I'm starting to get out a little.  That's why, yesterday, when PR told me he needed a few things for football I thought I'd take him to the store.

I wanted to get out into the real world again.

I drove to the sporting goods store.  I took my bionic nipples with me.

The shoe department at a sporting goods store is an amazing place.  Do you know there are bazillions of cleats for sale?  I saw some very pretty ones and immediately grabbed them to show to the salesman.  He informed me they were for soccer, not football.  PR also informed me he did not want "pretty" cleats.

Oh.

After that I sat back and let the salesman and PR talk things over.  My eyes glazed over listening to them so I began wandering around.  I won't bore you with the details of high top cleats and low top cleats and screw in thingies on the bottom of cleats vs. molded-on thingies.  (And I use the term "thingies" because I don't know what the proper term is for those thingies on the bottom of cleats.)

By the time they were done, I think I probably bought the most expensive pair of football cleats in Orange County.  I didn't even care, I just wanted to be done with them.  I'm sure the new cleats will insure PR runs very fast, or catches the ball at some big important moment, or smashes someone, or does whatever it is he's supposed to do.

He'll be a star, despite his size, and it will be entirely because of those cleats I bought.

Next, I wandered over to the section of the store where other football stuff is sold.  Like, um, footballs.

I'm pretty sure the high school provides footballs so I didn't buy one.

I looked at helmets, and face masks, and chin straps, and mouth pieces.  Mouth pieces?  Who would buy a piece of artificial mouth?  What is that for?  Is it a replacement in case you're injured and lose a portion of your own mouth while playing?  They were all packaged up so I couldn't get a good look at them.

The store also sold eye shields and eye decals.  

?

Why would you need a decal of an eye for football?

Does it make a player look scary to have extra eyes?

Clearly, I'm not understanding the need for some of these products.

There were shoulder pads and "protective pads."  I thought the protective pads must be for penis protection.

"Oh, like a cup!" I exclaimed.

"Nooooo," stammered the salesman.

Apparently, protective pads are for thighs, forearms, ribs, and other body parts which do not include the penis.

Oh.

What do the players use to protect their penises?

There were gloves and wristbands and something called "shivers."  I never did figure out what a shiver is.  (But I bet it's really cold!)

The store sold cleat covers.  Why would anyone want to cover their cleats?  Maybe because their cleats got the shivers?

There was also something called a wrist coach.  Hmmm.  Under what circumstances would a player need to coach his wrist?  And coach it to do what?

Have you ever heard of spatwrap?  No, I don't know what that is either.  It sounds like a wet ace bandage ... you know, one that has been spat on.

I could go on and on about the plethora of crazy football products, but to be honest I don't know what any of them are or do.

I finally gave up, paid for the cleats, and came home.  I was wiped out from expending all my energy trying to figure out football products.  I think I'll ask Briefcase if he can take care of whatever PR needs next weekend.  

Clearly, it's going to be a long season.

© Twenty Four At Heart

Dual Graduations

Yesterday was my first full day up and about.  PR graduated from middle school in the morning and RC graduated from high school in the evening.  I'm very proud of both of them.

My in-laws flew in for the day.  I'm sure you can imagine what it's like to try to take on the world, including in-laws, for 18 nonstop hours right after a major surgery.  I thought I was going to die from exhaustion.  I nearly passed out at the evening graduation, I literally started to sway on my own feet at one point.  Somehow I managed to hang in there, but I think it was through sheer will and determination.

I'll be back on the couch resting most of the weekend.

By the way, my in-laws never noticed my breasts.  I declined hugs by informing them my shoulder was sore and that was that.  (If anyone hugged me right now with my very tender breasts I would burst into tears.)

Why am I the one who is always trapped in a seat near a crying toddler for hours on end during graduation ceremonies?  I love kids, I really do.  I have three, remember?  I also always had the courtesy to walk mine right out of an event when they were younger if they were being disruptive to others. 

While everyone else was captivated by the graduation speeches and the reading of name after name after name ... I was noticing the following sights surrounding me.

If you had this growing on your chin, wouldn't you have it removed promptly?

I had to look at that for an hour during PR's ceremony.  <shudder>

When you are at least 55 years old it's time to stop wearing little girl barettes in your hair and looking like this:

By the way, if you are going to wear little girl barettes in your hair, please make them even because, really?

This Money Town woman got a little carried away with the idea of oversized sunglasses:

She reminds me of a giant fly.  Am I the only one who thinks that?

Some people can fall asleep anywhere.  I don't know if I've ever felt as exhausted as I did yesterday, and yet I managed to stay awake for both of my son's graduation ceremonies.

  

My favorite picture of the day is my last.  A mom near me fell asleep before the ceremony ever began and did not wake up until everyone rose to leave.  She missed her kid's entire graduation.

I hope everyone has a fun and restful weekend!

© Twenty Four At Heart

Mean Girls

This post has been removed.  

Thank you for all the comments, emails and feedback I received.  Clearly, high school and the emotions and memories it evokes brings up a lot of strong feelings.

When Outsiders Visit Money Town

I live adjacent to Money Town.  Money Town is a gate guarded community.  The guards at the gates are idiots, but they wear a name tag saying GUARD which makes them official.

I share the same Starbucks, grocery, and community stores with the Money Town folks.  For over 15 years my kids played sports in various Money Town sports leagues.  I like to make fun of the more absurd personalities Money Town offers, but the truth of the matter is I take for granted the general essence of Money Town itself.

Last Friday PR had a baseball game at the Money Town Sports Park.  His team was playing against a Money Town Team.  Over the years both of my boys have played many games there.  My car accident, in fact, occurred as I left one day after dropping PR at practice at this very same park.  To this day my stomach clenches in knots from the memory every time I'm there.  I have to take a deep breath each time I leave the park and re-enter the intersection where my life was left shattered right alongside my shoulder.

When PR was 12 we made a parental decision to remove him from Money Town baseball leagues for reasons I won't bore you with today.  Since that time we frequently comment about the fact PR now plays in "normal" leagues with "normal" people instead of surrounded by Money Town's finest.  (I'm pissing Money Town people off as I write this ... I can FEEL it.  To be honest?  It's not the first time!)  

The truth is, most Money Town people are a different breed of people.  They're sort of like their very own civilization.   Heh ...

I'm going to take a short detour here so you'll understand my state of mind at PR's game last Friday.  Earlier in the day I had visited with my surgeon for my MRI results.  I won't go into all the blah, blah, blah about that right now.  However, before I left he did a procedure on me which included inserting a thirty foot (maybe forty foot?) needle through my shoulder joint and injecting me with Shit That Hurts Like Hell.  Then he told me to go home, "take lots of pain meds, ice [my] arm and do nothing but rest and enjoy the drugs for the remainder of the weekend."

I went home and reported my status to Briefcase.  Then I took lots of drugs, had no time for ice or rest, and went to PR's game at the Money Town park high as a kite.  By that, I mean I was really out of my mind and extremely happy (if somewhat confused) on all those drugs.  I'm not used to them anymore because I rarely take them now.  

Really, you know what everyone around here wants?  They all want to watch me high and with no mouth control whatsoever in Money Town.  It's kind of like a train wreck.  You want to look away, but you just ... can't.

Briefcase later told me he looked into the bleachers where I was seated and saw me "holding court" for the other families on PR's team.  He said everyone was in stitches laughing at with me.  I don't really remember much at all.  I only remember snippets over the few hours I was there.  

I might have talked nonstop a lot and laughed even more.

I might have told a few zillion Money Town anecdotes.

I might have thought we were halfway through the game and tied 2-2 when the game was actually over and PR's team had won 5-0.

Someone might have laughed and asked exactly what game I had been at while everyone else was at the game right there in Money Town.  And then just maybe everyone laughed and asked if I'd had a good time at whatever game I'd been to.

When I think back on it I realize how odd Money Town must have seemed to many of those nice, normal families who had never been there before.  One man commented incredulously regarding the enormous homes he'd seen as he drove to the Sports Park.  One man asked if the front yard he'd seen "really belonged to a person" or whether it was a golf course.  (At first I thought he did mean the Money Town golf course, but then I realized he was indeed talking about someone's front yard.)  Several of the women commented on "the fancy cars" and "oh my, the WOMEN here!"

It made me realize how much of my surroundings I don't even see anymore. 

During the game I got up to stretch my legs.  I saw a woman walking in the park and I sent the following out on Twitter:

There's a woman here with fake boobs that are big enough to reach to Chicago.

What I didn't say was that she had on a skin tight tank top that said "Money Town" across her enormous fake boobs.

I found it so tacky ... it would be like having, "I'm Filthy Rich" printed across your chest in any other town.  Classless.

The woman smiled at me.  I stared at her in my drugged stupor.  I was thinking how ridiculous she looked with her enormous chest, her plastic face, her liposuctioned body and her tight Money Town shirt on.  She said hello, and I replied, "hi." She seemed too friendly.  I wondered if she was hitting on me.  She winked.

OMG!  Big Tits was hitting on me!

I went back to the bleachers and reported to one of my friends that Big Tits wanted me.

She winked at me!

Yes, I was THAT drugged.

Because REALLY?  What a rich, plastic Money Town woman wants is not a drugged up poor woman from outside the gates.  (That's how Money People talk ... you're a loser if you're from outside the gates.)

Right after Big Tits hit on me things got busy.  

Briefcase invited 20+ people over to our house after the game without warning me ahead of time.  (I had no food, etc. in the house and ended up ordering pizzas.)  Briefcase did this because in his mind when my doctor says I should do nothing but rest it somehow translates into my wife would love to entertain 20+ unexpected guests tonight when she's in a lot of pain.

It's just another example of the fine communication skills that develop between a couple when they've been married for many years.

It wasn't until around midnight when Briefcase turned to me and said, "Oh, I saw you saying hello to Ms. Bitch today at the park."

"Ms. Bitch?" I asked.

And that's when it hit me.  Big Tits?  Big Tits was actually a bitch woman I've known for six or seven years named Ms. Bitch.  She's had so much plastic surgery done recently I didn't even recognize her.  Would I have recognized her if I hadn't been so drugged up?  I doubt it.  She is only a ghost of her former self.  When she winked and said hello she wasn't hitting on me.  She just wanted me to see the "new" her.

I'm still floored.  How could I not have known?  I mean, just because she had a new face, boobs, stomach, ass and thighs ....

A change of identity like this is commonplace in Money Town.  And yet, I still can't believe Big Tits and Ms. Bitch are the same person.  

© Twenty Four At Heart

By Request

This is not one of my normal posts, and I apologize in advance to any of you who will be disappointed today.  I'll be back tomorrow with one of my more standard posts.  (Is there such a thing from me?  I don't think so ....)

I'm going to talk about trying to parent teens, and for those of you who are not parents I apologize in advance for boring you.  Although, if you were ever a teenager, maybe you won't be bored.  And no, I did not pick this topic due to the much publicized Oprah episode on being a mom and/or a mom blogger yesterday.  (I'm not normally an Oprah watcher and I found the episode to be highly disappointing.) 

For the record, I don't consider myself a "mommy-blogger" because I rarely write about my kids.

However, last week I got an email from a reader and it gave me reason to pause.  I haven't asked permission so I'm not going to reprint the email in its entirety here, but it included comments on the following.

1.  The reader's concern over keeping her college-aged daughter out of trouble, particularly over spring break.

2.  Inquiring how I handle beach vacations.

3.  A reference to my "accidental nudity"  (this phrasing - so polite - made me laugh out loud.)

4.  Requesting a post on how I keep my college-aged kids in line.

5.  Flattering me about being cool and hot which is something I loved and can never hear enough of.  What?  Do you think anyone in my family ever says those things to me?

6.  Offering to buy my book.  (Which, by the way, I haven't written.)

But ... YAY ... one person wants to buy my book if I ever write one!

I write about my life, what it's like living in Orange County, my struggle recovering from my disabling car accident, sex, male/female communication, along with other subjects and situations that interest me.  I try to inject humor into most (but not all) of the things I write about because it helps me focus on something outside of the physical pain I live with. 

Also, I think I'm funny and I like to crack myself up.

Sometimes I just whine.  I apologize for subjecting you to my pity parties, but I'm sure I'll do it repeatedly given enough time.

My kids are all teens and want privacy. They've very specifically told me they don't want their lives on the Internet for worldwide viewing. That being said, they're on Facebook with their entire lives available for worldwide viewing.

I suppose that's lesson number one about teens - they make no sense.

To be honest, most of the time I don't know what I'm doing with any of my 3 teens, but I really appreciate the vote of confidence expressed in the email I received.  

My daughter, TR, is in college.  My son, RC, is a senior in high school and my youngest, PR, just turned 14 and has not yet begun high school.  Having one kid in college certainly doesn't make me an expert on college-aged kids.  Also, my daughter lives at her college so I'm not with her except when she makes trips home to visit.

I had very serious discussions with TR before she left for college about drinking, drugs, date-rape, non-date rape, never leaving a drink unattended, birth control, and every other topic imaginable.  I also discussed all those things with her when she was in high school just as I've discussed them already with both of my boys.  I'm very mom-ish like that. My kids and I are very close.  I actually think they listen most of the time.

Why we are so close and why they listen, I can't explain.  

Since the email I received focused primarily on my college-aged daughter I'll respond in kind regarding her.  In observing moms with daughters the same age, I think I mainly just got lucky.  TR and I are very similar and as a result we really understand each other.  (She tells people, "My mom and I are basically the same person.")  Sometimes our stubborness clashes, but it usually results in both of us bursting into laughter at how headstrong we can be.

I suppose neither of us are easy personalities (!), but we realize it and we're both willing to own it. We can laugh at ourselves when we need to.  Laughter goes a long, long, way with teens.

I've also made more than my share of parenting mistakes. 

I've had some very big challenges with parenting.  Briefcase has traveled extensively our entire marriage.  I've played the role of single mom more often than not.  Having a spouse gone so much presents a myriad of parenting and marital challenges.  (That's a subject I could write a book on!)

In addition, I was knocked on my ass by the car accident nearly three years ago.  I could barely function for over two years afterward.  I was undergoing numerous surgeries and very drugged up a good deal of the time while Briefcase was traveling.  I couldn't even cook a decent meal for over two years.  I'm far, far, far from being a perfect parent.  My kids have not been in a house with perfect, ideal conditions.

Have I qualified this post enough yet?

OK, then.

I not only love my kids, I really, really like them.  They know it and they not only love me in return, but they like me also.  We have a lot of mutual respect.  I'm their parent though - not their best friend and my kids have never questioned that.  I think a lot of parents try too hard to be a friend first and a parent second.  

In addition, most of the time, I have very good communication with my kids and that, probably more than anything, seems to head off a lot of problems from the start.  I really listen to them and I think, in turn, that makes them more willing to listen to me.

Did I mention my kids aren't perfect?  At all ....

Problems and disagreements come up and we deal with them as they do. Boyfriends, girlfriends, issues of responsibility, and issues of wanting more independence than they've demonstrated they can handle arise all the time with teens.  

One of the questions in the email was regarding beach vacations and I don't know how to respond to that.  Our life here is a life that has always included the beach. We are beach people. Our life, compared to most people's, is pretty much a year round beach vacation. My kids hopefully know how to handle themselves, safely, at beach parties. 

My daughter did take a "senior trip" to Hawaii with a group of friends (all female) to celebrate her graduation from high school two years ago.  We made her pay for it herself and she had just turned 18 years old at the time.  My feelings are once they're 18 we, as parents, can continue to guide them but they are adults and deserve to be respected and treated as adults.

Being treated as an adult also means taking full responsibility for the consequences of their actions.

By the way, when she took that trip to Hawaii she had a boyfriend.  Boyfriend did not go on the trip and actually hung out at our house a lot while she was gone.  I may not have felt as comfortable with the whole idea if circumstances were different.

TR's college is in California.  The kids at her college don't do the big spring break weeks many kids do because the beaches are right here all the time.  Do they party?  Yes, absolutely.  

Would I approve of everything they do at their parties?  I'm sure I wouldn't. However, I was a college student once too and I did my share of partying.  I survived it and ended up being a fairly responsible adult.

I do try to make my kids be accountable for their actions.  Do they screw up?  Do they make mistakes?  Yes.  (So do I - still!)  We've tried to teach them not to make excuses, but to own up to their actions, be accountable, and try to rectify things if need be.

That's another thing missing in Orange County.  Accountability.  Parents make excuses for their kids right and left here.  (Not ALL parents ... but a lot of parents.)  Isn't it our job as parents to teach our kids that actions have consequences?  And what happens to them as adults if they've never learned that? 

We've always insisted our teens (from age 15 on) hold paying jobs.  To some of you this is a no brainer but I live in a very affluent area.  Teens here are handed BMW's on their 16th birthday.  (Not my kids, but a lot of kids.)  Many kids in Orange County get everything they want, in addition to many things they haven't even thought to want yet. Briefcase and I feel it's important for our teens to learn all the lessons that come from having to work.

I can't tell you how few parents allow or encourage their kids to hold jobs in South Orange County.

Have these lessons been full-proof?  No. Just the other day my daughter sent me an email from college asking if she could have a vacation in New York for her birthday.  She and her best friend were going to each pay for their own flights.  She wanted to know if we would pay for their hotel in Times Square "for several days" as her birthday present.

I emailed her back and said no.  I asked her if she had any idea at all what a hotel in Times Square costs per night, and what exactly, did she think her birthday budget was?  She then went and googled hotels and pricing, reality set in, and she emailed me back to say, "Oops I guess that won't work."

Parenting is an ongoing process.

What did your parents do RIGHT while getting you through your teen years?  And what has worked or not worked for you if you are, or have been, a parent to teens?

** Now watch, I will have jinxed myself by writing this post.  One of my teens will inform me they're pregnant, about to be a daddy, addicted to heroin, or have just been arrested the minute this publishes! **

© Twenty Four At Heart

When Life Goes Splat on the Windshield

Have you ever noticed how cyclical life is?  Everything is going fine.  Then everything is going great.  Then everything is in the crapper.  I suppose it all evens out in the end.  Sometimes when everything is great, it's hard to imagine it won't always be.  Sometimes when life is shitty, it's hard to remember things will get better.

When you have a family you have moments where so much is going wrong for one or more of your family members at the same time it's almost comical.  

A boss of mine once told me a story about his entire family puking 24/7 with the flu.  He had four kids so, along with his wife, that made six people barfing in one house at one time.  They only had two bathrooms in their home.  He lived in a cold climate and he told me he went outside one night to escape the smell of vomit.  He said he stood outside in the snow in freezing temperatures just so he could puke in fresh air away from everyone else.

I don't know why, maybe it was how he told it, but I laughed my ass off at his story.

At that particular moment, he must have wondered how much worse life could get.

Every year, at the beginning of spring, there is a huge butterfly migration through Orange County.  Last Friday I got my car washed.  Saturday I spent a good part of the day at Steed Park in San Clemente watching PR play in a baseball tournament.  It was a beautiful 80F (26.7C) day. Driving home PR and I watched in horror and disgust as butterfly after butterfly went splat! splat! splat! against my windshield.

As one particularly large butterfly made a horrific three inch yellow smear on the windshield PR shuddered in disgust.  When I got home I looked at my now yellow smeared windshield and thought about all those butterflies I slaughtered by driving home.

Then I thought, "Isn't that just how life goes sometimes?  You're flying along all happy and joyful and then life goes splat!"

I'm such a deep thinker.

Aren't you impressed?

It's because I knew what I was coming home to.  

TR was in our family room, teary-eyed and melancholy.  She had a box of tissues at her side.  She'd just seen her boyfriend off at the airport and her heart was breaking.  RC was the sickest I've ever seen him. He was laying feverish, despondent, with swollen glands, and unable to swallow on the couch in our living room.  (He still is.)

RC looked at me hopefully as I walked in with the mail.  I handed him an envelope.  He opened it and handed it back to me.  As if the kid wasn't feeling bad enough already from his illness, it was a rejection letter from his top pick of colleges.

My heart broke for him right then.

It's a mother thing.  It wouldn't have been so bad if he was healthy and himself. Instead, it was a swift kick to the groin when he was already down.  Painful.  

Very, very painful.

I gave TR a one-armed hug (that's what I do since my accident) so she would know I understand heartbreak.  Because folks?  I do understand heartbreak.  I got some Advil for RC and took him a glass of ice water.  I tried to come up with motherly things to say.

"You'll end up where you're supposed to be," I said.

He didn't respond.

"Things happen for a reason," I added.

His answer?

"What more could I have done?"

The kid worked his butt off, took, and excelled, in every honors class, has an exceptionally high GPA and test scores.  It wasn't enough for his dream school.  Never mind he's been accepted to nine other colleges so far, several of them offering him scholarships.  The school he dreamt of, the school he worked his ass off for, rejected him. 

He'll be fine.  It's one of life's disappointments and we all go have to go through things like that.  It's just too bad his came on a day when he had a 103 fever and felt like shit.

I walked out of the room for a few minutes.

When I walked back in I couldn't believe what I was seeing.  TR had joined her sick brother.  She'd gone to him, sat down next to his feverish body on the couch, wrapped her arms around his neck in a huge hug to comfort him. Then she began bawling.  RC gripped her in a bear hug and his eyes welled up too.  Seeing them together like that, brother and sister, comforting each other when they were both feeling so down tugged at my heart strings.

That's when it hit me.  Long after Briefcase and I have gone to The Big Beach In The Sky, they will have each other.  

And you know what?  That's a very good thing.

©  Twenty Four At Heart

Breaking Up is Hard to Do - The Story of Big Weenies and More

I dated the same guy through most of college and for a year or so after.  For the sake of today's post let's call him Big Weenie.  On occasion Big Weenie and I would break-up and date others, but for over five years he was pretty much the man in my life.  (And yes, it makes me cringe now to think I wasted all my college years on ONE person!)

Although?  Big Weenie.

Nonetheless, at the time Big Weenie and I were close and we got to know each other's families quite well.  His family took me along on vacations and my family took him on trips too.  I think a lot of people figured Big Weenie and I were destined to end up married someday.

Alas, it was not meant to be.  My feelings changed significantly once I got involved in my career.  I was living in my own apartment, supporting myself, trying to climb the corporate ladder and suddenly ... I didn't feel the same.  Big Weenie was busy with law school and still in student mode and we drifted apart. 

Eventually, Big Weenie and I broke up. 

I moved on.

Shortly after, I began dating someone new.  (No, not Briefcase ... he came along later in my life.)  Big Weenie would still call and sometimes we would meet "just for coffee" or "just to talk" but our lives were separating more and more.  I became quite infatuated with Mr. Electric.  We had electric (hot, magnetic, amazing, sweltering!) chemistry together.

At the time this was all taking place, I temporarily lived in Sacramento.  I had a favorite, very authentic, Chinese restaurant I loved near my apartment.  One night I suggested to Mr. Electric he would also love the food there and we decided to stop in for dinner. 

We walked into the very tiny, one room, restaurant and the hostess pointed us to a table.  To my surprise, and embarrassment, Big Weenie's family was seated at the next table.  The entire Weenie family was apparently in town visiting.

Can you say awkward?

I said hello to everyone.  The Weenie parents were confused and thought I'd been invited to join them and chosen to bring along a "friend."  My new flame, Mr. Electric, looked puzzled and then gradually the realization of who these people were began to sink in.

After saying hello to everyone and explaining to the confused Weenie parents that no, sorry we won't be able to join you tonight I announced, "We were just leaving."

Never mind that we had just arrived.

I grabbed Mr. Electric's arm and we turned and walked right back out of that restaurant.

It's a scene I've never forgotten. 

I think a tear might have dripped out of Big Weenie.

** Ahem **

Maybe that didn't sound quite how I intended it? 

It's a scene that was brought back to me in vivid detail recently.  My daughter was home from college a few weeks ago.  We decided to take our family, and her new boyfriend, out to dinner.  We walked into a restaurant and were seated at the table next to her high school boyfriend of three years and his family.   She broke up with Boyfriend #1 a few months back.

Boyfriend #1 used to practically live at our house for the three years they dated. He is far from over her.  He followed her to the same college.  He's renting a house only a few buildings down from hers.  Everyone who knows him has told us he "can't" get over her. When she broke up with him, he reacted in anger and quite honestly it got a little scary for a brief period until he seemed to collect himself.  They run into each other at college once in awhile, but not often.

As in my situation, our families had become friends too.  We greeted each other with hellos and hugs and then sat back at our separate tables right next to each other.  It was made more awkward by the fact that Boyfriend #1 is so dejected.  My heart went out to him.  How terrible to have to sit through a meal and watch the love of your life at the next table with your replacement?

Gah!

Later, after we left for the evening, we realized something even worse.  It had been Boyfriend #1's birthday.  He was out with his family for his birthday dinner celebration when we arrived.

How terrible is that?  We ruined his 20th birthday.  

I can't get over the pain in his eyes.  I can't get over the tremor in his voice when he hugged me and told me he misses our family.  I know everyone gets their heart broken eventually, but it doesn't make me feel any better for the poor guy.

Have you been in a situation like this too?  What's the most awkward new flame/old flame situation you've found yourself in?

** As an addendum to this post.  I've decided to leave the anonymous comment entered this morning calling me a California whore.  Initially I was going to delete it, but I figure you should have the opportunity to witness the negative side of Internet writing too.  Still wondering how a California whore is different from a Florida whore though.  What do you think?  **

©  Twenty Four At Heart

Star Quality

I wrote this earlier in the week.  I never got around to publishing it.  Since I'm still kind of bummed out and not quite up to writing today I'm posting it now.  Yes, I'm still in "quiet mode."  I've temporarily disappeared inside myself.  

I barely had my foot in the door of PT yesterday when The Torturer asked, "Is it physical pain or what Dr. X said to you?" Whether I like to admit it or not, The Torturer knows me well.  It takes him maybe three seconds to accurately appraise my mood.  

I've decided I'm going to hop in my car and mosey up the coast this weekend all by lonesome.  I think it's exactly what I need.  I'm not sure where I'll wind up, but I've got a pretty good idea.  My regular readers probably have a good idea too.  I really appreciate all the support you've given me!  

I'll be back on Monday.  Maybe I'll even post a picture or two this weekend depending on where I find myself.  I'm sure my spirits will be much better by the end of the weekend. There's nothing a little ocean time can't cure.

And now ... back to my original post.

Southern California, and Orange County in particular, takes youth sports very seriously. In fact, let's just be honest, the area takes youth sports way too seriously. Maybe it's just another example of OC excess.  Often sports here become more about the adults living vicariously through their kids than anything else.  Every year we read more and more local articles about the increase in sport-related injuries for kids.  

Also, there are a ton of over-zealous sports dads (and moms) around here.

A big factor in all of this is the nice weather we enjoy.  If a child has the interest and ability to excel at a sport he/she will soon find sports aren't seasonal in Orange County. A kid can play almost any sport year round and if he/she is any good at it, he/she will be expected to play that sport year round.  

When my kids were younger they tried a variety of activities.  Both of my boys settled into baseball as their favorite.  As a result, I've been to more games and tournaments and baseball events than even I can remember.  The boys have loved playing and we've enjoyed the families we've met and been involved with over the years.

Except for the assholes, but I won't focus on them today.

Somehow, all of our baseball involvement led us to Angel's Stadium last Friday evening.  

PR (13) played for a travel/club team last Fall and they were having a banquet for all their teams (ages 10-15) at the exclusive and upscale Angel's Diamond Club.  There were several hundred people attending in total.

The Diamond Club is a restaurant located at Angel's Stadium.  There are also Diamond Club stadium seats which are right behind home plate.  Diamond Club seats, and the access they bring you to the Diamond Club restaurant, are primarily accessible to celebrities and the rich.

We've been fortunate enough to visit the Diamond Club on occasion through the generosity of friends.  Last Friday night, however, there was no Angel's baseball game going on.  The field and stadium were empty except for the organization we were with.

I've been involved with youth baseball for a lot of years, and even I was astounded at the idea of a youth baseball team getting an opportunity to have exclusive use of the Diamond Club for a team party.  

Isn't that taking the whole youth sports thing a little far?

I guess that's where our exorbitant team fees went?

That being said, the boys (and parents) loved it.  The boys were instructed to dress nicely.  Ties were optional, button down shirts and nice pants (no jeans) were mandatory. To clarify, most of the boys wear shorts, t-shirts and flip flops to school every day. This event meant getting dressed up by California teen-boy standards.

Pro baseball players came and talked to the boys.  A buffet dinner was served.  The boys ran amok amongst the empty stadium seats.  The parents drank too much while we sat around chatting.  

Eventually all the boys with high academic achievements were acknowledged in front of the group.  I thought it was a nice touch.  Every player with a 3.5 grade point average, or higher, got a little plaque.  (And yep, PR got one -- yay!!)  It was a nice way to remind the boys how important school is.  Every one of the boys dreams of being a pro player someday and very few, if any, of them will accomplish that goal.  As a parent, I appreciated the organization giving kudos to the kids who focus on academics too and not just baseball.

I thought the coaches would read off the name of every single kid on every single team. Surprisingly, they chose not to do this.  Can I just say I was prepared to sleep right through that?  I think there were a total of 11 teams there which meant approximately 165 kids.  I imagine we would have been there all night if they had.  Instead, each coach picked 3 boys from his team to receive an award for their baseball accomplishments.  

PR was thrilled to be one of the three picked for his team.  Can you imagine being 13 years old, standing behind home plate at Angel Stadium and receiving an award in front of several hundred people seated in the Diamond Club?  PR received his award for being the top pitcher and top hitter on his team.  I think it's something he will remember for the rest of his life. 

Before you get too impressed, and not to belittle PR's accomplishment, can I just say the team was fairly crappy?  I don't mean to make light of the award, but being the best on a team isn't as difficult if the team sucks.

I'm very proud of PR.  Please don't send me an email and tell me I'm an awful mom.  I am proud of my kid.  I just want you to have a complete picture of what transpired.  He got an award for being the best on a team that was average.  

PR's coach gave a very nice little speech about PR and then he added, "And he accomplished all of this without being able to see the ball because he didn't get his glasses until after our last game."  His statement brought a roar of laughter from everyone and PR blushed forty shades of red as he peered out (from behind his glasses) in awe at the crowd of people applauding for him.

He could actually see them!

© Twenty Four At Heart

Heisler Park

Last Saturday I awoke to a glorious, spectacular, sunny day.  I sipped my morning coffee in our backyard.  PR joined me and he kept exclaiming how beautiful the mountains are.  He told me he's never really seen them before.  He can't get over the wonders of the world now that he has his glasses.  He also said, in total awe, "I can actually see the clouds now!"

** Ahem **  

Yes son, there are clouds in the sky.  Let me just pop a bottle of Xanax to ease my guilt over being a bad mom and we can talk about the existence of mountains and clouds.

By the way, the "green belt" you see in the above picture is maintained for fire protection.  Although it isn't visible in the photo, there's a reservoir just on the other side of it.  When we have wildfires (and we do), helicopters come with big buckets attached and swoop water out of the reservoir.  We watch all the excitement from our backyard as we hope and pray the fires don't get close to us.

And yes, they have before.  But that's a story for a different day.

PR announced he "needed" to climb some rocks at the beach.  He got no argument from me.  In no time, we were at Heisler Park in Laguna where there are a lot of rocks to climb.

Heisler Park is great for rock climbing and for perusing tide pools.

PR took this photo of one of the fattest starfishes I've ever seen.  As he took the photo, I stood nearby.  A huge wave suddenly crashed on the rocks soaking me thoroughly. Luckily, it was a warm day (in the 80's/27C) and I dried off quickly.

Can I stop right here and admit something?  Laguna Beach is one of the greatest places to laugh at tourists.  I can't help it and yes, I'm a bitch.  Honestly?  Do not come to California for a visit in the winter and send your kids out swimming in the Pacific Ocean in their underwear.  It's wrong on so many levels.  

The Pacific Ocean is cold in the winter (Low 50'sF/11-12C).  If you stay in the water for more than a few minutes without a wet suit on we are laughing at you.  Also?  You can splurge on a kids bathing suit for next to nothing at Target.  We don't want to see you or your kids running around in panties on the beach.

Thank you.

Here's one of many sea anemones we encountered.  PR likes to feed them by touching their "middles" and watching them devour their food.  Is devour the correct term for what sea anemones do?  They suck stuff in and you never see it again.

I got an 'A' in biology.  (No, really I did.)

The sky was a spectacular array of wispy cirrus clouds, and the ocean was green and clear.

Have I mentioned that we have plants other than palm trees by the ocean?

It's beginning to look quite spring-ish.

PR got a lot of climbing and exploring done. 

Yes, he did drag me up and down cliffs.  And no, he did not wear his glasses as he did so. Don't ask, it's a long story.  Anyway, it takes a lot to wear PR out.  He's a high energy kid.  One good thing about all that climbing, it gave me some great views for photos.

In the far distance you can see downtown Laguna.  

We climbed nearly as high as some very tall palm trees.

On the way home we stopped by the grocery store.  When we got back to the house we grilled steaks outdoors.  I made a caesar salad (I make the best homemade caesar dressing) and we baked some potatoes.  A bottle of red wine completed the meal.  It was a wonderful day!

As an aside, thank you to so many of you who have encouraged me on the photography front.  You've gotten me quite motivated to figure out a way to use a heavier camera with my bum arm.  It may take a few months, but "real" photography is something I really aspire to do again.  It will be an exciting day for me when I can share with you the news that I've accomplished that goal.

© Twenty Four At Heart

This Is Where I Ramble And Then We Pretend I Never Wrote This Post

I have a bitch of a headache.

My bum arm and shoulder are in intense pain.  OmigodItHurts.

Instead of trying to make any type of coherent sense I thought I'd just update you on some random things I've written about recently.  Oh, and about the boob picture I sent out to the entire world-wide-web.  (Yes, I did!)

PR's glasses arrived on Monday.  He ran around the house saying things like, "I can read the clock!" with total wonder in his voice.  He even said (in complete astonishment) "It says NBC at the bottom of the TV!"

*Ahem*  Mother of the year award .... I'm sure it's on its way.

I'm still working on my house.  Dealing with termites will have to come after the painters are done.  They had to take an extended break due to a series of storms, but they're back now.  They're rebuilding the majority of our deck.  Who knew painters could build decks? They have to because, apparently, it's very difficult to paint rotted wood.  I'll try to post a picture of the deck sometime soon because I know I have a lot of readers very interested in my house and the stuff we're working on.

That headache I mentioned?  Could it possibly be a result of their incessant hammering? 

All the windows of my house are covered with clear, fuzzy, plastic in preparation for painting.  It makes me feel incredibly claustrophobic.  On a positive note, if I can only see vague shapes through the plastic, they probably can't see in.  I might have regained a little privacy.  Just in case I feel the need to wander around naked or something.

Also, regarding indoor projects, for a few years I've been searching for the perfect round table.  We have a circular cubby formed by our spiral staircase and nothing else has worked there.  Last week I finally found one and it's the perfect size and height.  This little table?  Was a find!  The top is hand painted and it was on sale.  I love it when I find the perfect bargain!  

 

I'll have to find something to put on top of it once the roses die.

The Torturer is back from Las Vegas which means I'm back to being tortured.  I ended up only making one appointment with a sub PT over the last 10 days (said sheepishly).  I'm paying for it now.  (Or possibly I'm paying for my post on the harem?)  In any case, he's killing me and he is not a nice person.  Pain means nothing to him.  Well, my pain means nothing to him.  Either way ...?  It sucks.

I'm in love with Danny Gokey on American Idol.  He has, hands down, the best voice of any of the contestants.  I'm going to run away with him and marry him as soon as he asks.  Honestly?  Love his voice!  I hate Tatiana as much as I love Danny.  And yes, I'm really only 15 years old, why do you ask?

I accidentally sent a picture of my partially clothed boobs out to the entire Internet via Twitter recently with a caption that said, "Boobilicious!"  I meant to send it to a couple chick-friends as a joke ... and, um, something went wrong.  I can hope the entire Internet didn't view them it, but I'm pretty sure the 460+ people who follow me on Twitter all got a good look.

Your welcome.

Perhaps this is one more reason why you should follow me on Twitter?  Or not.

Money Town Imbecile

Last weekend I found myself in the Money Town Verizon store attempting to acquire two new phones.  There's nothing I dread more than having to stop into our local Verizon store. There's almost always a long wait just to be seen and a zillion headaches in dealing with whatever cell phone issue needs dealing with.  This time, however, I walked in and was immediately waited on by Mr. Imbecile.  Of course, initially, I didn't know Mr. Imbecile was an imbecile and I was overjoyed not to have a wait.

Let me back up just a little bit.  

TR had arrived home from college on a train just shortly before.  She was coming home for about 30 hours and one of the primary reasons she came home was because she desperately needed a new phone.  Her phone was held together with a combination of scotch and duct tape and the charger was no longer working.  Our cell contract allowed her to get a new phone this month.  At the same time, I wanted to upgrade to a "smart" phone for myself.  Quite honestly, I haven't been able to keep up with my emails since I began Twenty Four At Heart.  I figured if I could answer emails from my phone I'd have a better chance of making a dent in them.  (??)

Within minutes of our arrival the store was overflowing with customers.  We (foolishly) congratulated ourselves on having arrived before the crowd.  As it turned out all those customers came and went and we were still there with Mr. Imbecile.  Yes, it took us over three and a half hours (with no initial wait) to be taken care of.

We explained to Mr. Imbecile what phones we wanted and blah, blah, blah.  He started the process of making the changes.  A few minutes later he informed us TR could not get a new phone for four more days based on our contract.  FOUR DAYS.  I explained to Mr. Imbecile that she was only home from college for one day, and asked if he could possibly get the manager to approve a FOUR DAY exception.  

He said that would be impossible.

I asked if she could purchase a new phone in FOUR DAYS in her college town.  He explained that would also be impossible.  According to Mr. Imbecile she needed me with her, because the account is in my name.

He then went on a tirade about the importance of this rule in the event of a "bad divorce." (Because there are so many GOOD divorces?)  And what the hell does any of that have to do with my daughter?  She and I have no intention of divorcing anytime soon.

Frustrated, I told Mr. Imbecile to just upgrade my phone.  As he started this process we took note of the Money Town crowd surrounding us.  There was a woman with large fake breasts and a tight cleavage-exposing top, dressed head to toe in hot pink.  She even wore hot pink converse sneakers and a "reverse french manicure" with matching bright pink nail polish.  Next to her was a Money Town man demanding a free upgrade of the expensive phone he'd used for five months because he recently decided he doesn't like "the sound of it."  I looked on as his eight year old daughter chatted on her own phone while she waited.

All these people, and many more like them, came and went as Mr. Imbecile slowly punched numbers into his computer, frowned, deleted them, and began the process again. Over, and over, and over again.

I don't have a lot of patience for stupid people, and Mr. Imbecile was an idiot.

As he attempted (unsuccessfully) to input my blog email address he smirked and said, "So you think of yourself as 24, do ya?"

Before I could respond he said,  "That must make me 16."

He was in his mid-sixties, staring me down through his overgrown, pure gray, comb-over and I was not the least bit charmed by the comparison.  I used every ounce of willpower to stifle a smart ass response.

If you know me in person, you understand what an extreme effort it was on my part.  I'm not a stifler of smart ass comments by nature.

A few minutes later he attempted (again unsuccessfully) to enter my personal email address which, coincidentally, also has the number 24 in it.

"You're really hung up on trying to be a 24 year old, aren't you?" he remarked.

This time I clenched my teeth together to will myself into silence.

Somewhere along the way, a few snarky comments started escaping.

"Hmmm," I said, "I understand now why so many people have left Verizon and gone to AT&T."

(AT&T doesn't work in my canyon so it's not an option for me, but that's beside the point.)

"Would you like to go next door and have lunch TR?  I'll still be here in a few hours when you're done."

When Briefcase called to ask when we'd be home I commented, "Well, at this rate I'd say we'll be at least another five hours."

Mr. Imbecile punched in more keys, frowned again, deleted everything and began again.

I'd think he did this just to spite me for my snarky comments, but he wasn't intelligent enough for that.

One of the store managers came over about five times to help Mr. Imbecile, but unfortunately he never stayed very long.  At one point I explained to him TR's situation and she showed him her duct taped phone.  He approved her for the "impossible" upgrade on the spot.

Mr. Imbecile frowned at this news, deleted everything he'd done over the last hour and a half, and began again.

I contemplated beating my head against the wall repeatedly, but the store was too crowded to find wall space.

At the three hour point (not exaggerating) a new store manager came on duty.  He came over to answer one of Mr. Imbecile's questions.  I looked him in the eye and said, "I'm a little frustrated, we've been here five hours and I'm ready to lose it."

Of course, it had only been three hours, but three hours in a Verizon store is totally, really, five hours.  At least.  Probably ten.

He took over for Mr. Imbecile.

Right then Briefcase called again to see why we still weren't home.

Mr. Manager laughed and said, "Tell him you'll be another five hours."

I decided I liked him.  Of course, I would have liked anyone after spending three hours with Mr. Imbecile.

We were out of there thirty minutes later.  Amazingly enough, he was able to load both of my email addresses and never once questioned the fact that of course I'm 24 (asshole).

On our way out I overheard a Money Town woman explaining to her husband why their kindergartner needs a cell phone.

"It's going to be really comforting for me to know I can reach her anytime," she remarked.

I choked back the vomit which threatened to come up in my throat.

Now I just need to learn how to use my smart phone.  It's smarter than I am and I know it.

Save Me - Bring Vodka!

I'm hiding in my own house.  I'm trying to find someplace quiet.  Someplace where everyone will leave me alone just for a few minutes, please.   The volume of noise continues to escalate and I find myself contemplating ear plugs.  I suppose it's a sad day when you feel the need to escape your own family.

I think I've found a hiding place though.

I was all set to write about a funny experience I had last weekend, but you'll have to forgive me. Writing anything other than a stream of conscience rant will be impossible right now.

Briefcase is cranky and roaming through the house growling like a grizzly bear.  Also, when he's in a bad mood everything gets louder.  He slams closes doors and cupboards every thirty seconds.

It isn't just my family driving me crazy though.  RC has a group of teens over and they are VERY LOUD.  I walked into the kitchen and one of the boys who is about 6'5" tall, and well over 200 pounds, was inhaling food out of our refrigerator as fast as he could.  I asked if he could please leave enough so I could pack PR a lunch for school. 

He replied, "I left an apple."

Thank you, thank you very much.

His girlfriend looked at me apologetically and explained they had just gone out to eat at a restaurant on their way over to our house.

I'm used to this.  Sort of.

Teen boys never, ever, stop eating.  I have two of them, so I know.  They bring a lot of friends over to eat me out of house and home visit also.  Our house tends to be the "hang out" house.

Shoot me.

RC and his girlfriend have gotten quite serious over recent months.  His group of friends has always been a mix of girls and boys, but now it seems we have a lot of teen couples at our house.  As I'm writing this there are teen couples watching a scary movie downstairs.

At the most insane, loud, volume imaginable.

Periodically, a few of the boys roam through the kitchen again to see if there's a single morsel left uneaten.

Scary movies give the girls an excuse to cuddle and hang on to the boys which is really all they want to be doing anyway.  The girls keep squealing loudly.  I have a teen girl also, but I have to say all the girl squealing as I write this is driving me over the edge. The girls must think the squealing is appealing to the boys.

To me, it's like nails on a chalkboard.  

Stop.It.Now.

PR just found me.  He came wandering in as if he's known where I'm hiding the whole time. 

"What do you need?" I asked him.

"I need to cut my nails and I can't find the nail clippers," he said staring intently at me.

Honestly, the kid never wants to cut his nails.  More than anything, I suppose he wanted to see what I'm doing and why I'm hiding.  I think, perhaps, he's part of the conspiracy to not let me spend five minutes in peace.

I already had to tell Briefcase to please stop pestering me.  Why is it when I finally sit down to write, he comes up with at least 150 questions to ask me?

I need a better hiding place.

A few minutes ago RC found me also.  He came to ask if they (the annoyingly loud, squealing teen couples) could heat up our jacuzzi.

This is a favorite teen boy activity.  They love to invite the girls over to the pool in the warm weather or the spa in the winter.  Our pool is romantically lit at night.  The girls wear bathing suits and expose a lot of skin.  There's a degree of privacy awarded by the large rocks surrounding our pool.  It's perfect for making out.

My answer was no.

My answer was no because there has been lightening on the mountain by our canyon and it's not safe for them to be in the water.  It's a good excuse for saying no, don't you think?

As annoying as they're being with their loudness and squealing, at least if they're inside we can assure they get no privacy.  Really, that's my primary responsibility as a parent of teen boys.  It's my job to make sure they're never alone long enough with their girlfriends to get themselves into too much trouble.

Yeah, I know.  I don't believe I'll be successful either, but I can try, can't I?

Proving I'm a Terrible Mother Once Again

I don't write about my kids very often.  Once in awhile I share with you my attempts at being a good mom.  Like last summer when I wrote about putting my daughter on the wrong train and sending her off to oblivion.  I'm a stellar mom, there's little doubt about that.

About two weeks ago PR (13 years old) came home from his school day in 8th grade and told me he "might" need glasses.  

"Are you having trouble seeing the board at school?" I asked.

"No," he answered, "I see perfectly, but I flunked the eye test at school today."

Well, okay then.  

I have never once taken him in to an optometrist for an eye check.  His older siblings went a few years ago, but he (for reasons I don't remember) was not included in the visit.  Briefcase has the worst vision imaginable so you would think this would be something I'd be on top of, wouldn't you?

Right then RC entered the room (18 years old, high school senior) and informed me that although PR might be able to see the board at school, he was having a little trouble.  Fine, I decided to make appointments for both of them.  In fact, I've been squinting at my laptop lately, so I added myself into the mix.

RC had his appointment on Monday.  The doctor went through the standard tests with me looking on.  Towards the end she informed us RC's eyes aren't "too bad," but he could benefit with a pair of glasses just for reading the board at school.  Glasses are very "in" now as a fashion statement and I think RC was actually a little disappointed he wouldn't need to wear them all the time.

Then the doctor dilated RC's eyes.  RC had never had this done before because our previous doctor didn't feel it was necessary until he got "a little older."  Of course, this causes blurry vision.  The doctor then ushered RC into another room for "laser imprinting" of his eye.  Apparently this gave RC extreme vertigo.  I've never had it done so I can't explain why, but it did.

All of a sudden RC staggered out of the laser imprinting room (I had not accompanied him in there).  He looked like he was drunk.  He walked into a wall.  RC is the comedian in our family.  I thought he was goofing around.  

"What are you doing, RC?" I asked.

He staggered some more.  I started to tell him enough is enough, and to please stop embarrassing me with his shenanigans when he collapsed right there in the waiting room. 

Collapsed.

I rushed to him, and helped him into a chair (still not fully comprehending what was wrong with him).  He fell out of the chair right back on the floor again.  Omigod! Interestingly enough, no one in the waiting area, and none of the employees made any attempt to help.

Eventually the doc came out and ushered us into a back room.  She said she has seen the laser imprinting "affect a few people" like that before.  I told her I initially had thought RC was just goofing around.  She gave me a disapproving glare.  (What?  He's a clown!) After about 20 minutes, RC was fine to walk out to the car and go home.  He was embarrassed at having "made a scene" at the doctors.

Twenty four hours later PR and I were back in the same office having our eyes checked. The doctor decided not to do laser imprinting on either of us.  (I wouldn't have let her.)  I had not told PR about RC's experience because I didn't want to make him anxious.  It was his first visit to an optometrist.

Right before PR's test he looked at me and said, "I'm a little nervous.  I don't think I see so good."

(Nice grammar, I know!  And what happened to "I see perfectly"??)

His eye test began.  I watched on in horror.

My kid is as blind as a bat.

I sat in the room with him as he flunked his eye test.  I saw the doctor's disapproving expression as she made the eye tests bigger and bigger and PR still could not read them.  She glanced at me as if to say, "How the hell could you let your kid walk around like this?"

So, of course, filled with immediate and complete "mom guilt," I tried to explain.

In a nervous, apologetic, and guilt-filled rush of words, I began rambling.

"He must be able to see the board, he got straight A's!" I rationalized said.

The doctor remained silent and disapproving.

"Really, how could he do that if he can't see the board?"

She countered with, "Think how stressful it must be on him to accomplish that when he can't see."

Ouch!

More mom guilt resulted in me talking faster instead of shutting up.

"But he plays baseball!" I announced.

"Well, he can't actually be fielding the ball," she remarked skeptically.

Clearly she thinks he stands out on the field while balls go whizzing past him all day.

PR's whole life is, and always has been, all about his passion for baseball.  Currently his coach has him playing shortstop (because *ahem* he can field the ball.)  He also pitches and he has to be able to see in order to pitch.

"Yes, he fields the ball very well," I answered defensively.

"Does he ever hit the ball?" she asked, dubiously.

Now she was just pissing me off.  I felt bad enough about PR's eyesight without her rubbing in what a neglectful mom I am.

"He's been hitting great," I countered.

I was pissed off at her holier than thou attitude. The kid has been hitting the crap out of the ball.  Honestly, PR has not been stumbling around walking into walls ... like his brother did the previous day.

Is it my fault that I didn't know my own kid is half blind?  

(Yes, but make me feel better and pretend it's not.)

Her voice filled with skepticism, the doctor said, "Well he must be feeling the ball because he's certainly not seeing it."

Why not just call me the world's worst mom?

To top off my wonderful experience, she then informed me I now need reading glasses.

"That's what happens as you get older," she smiled.

Bitch!

I Never Get Sick

My oldest teen son, RC, was very sick over Thanksgiving weekend.  It actually started a few days prior to Thanksgiving, but by last Thursday he was in pretty bad shape.  RC has suffered from asthma since he was only 3 months old.  Every time he catches even a simple cold, it becomes a serious challenge to keep him breathing. 

As a young child every single cold he ever caught meant at least one trip to a doctor to stabilize his breathing.  Good times ...

I've taken him to the hospital emergency room an awful lot since his babyhood. He's been rushed from school for emergency treatments and scared the shit out of me many, many times.  Every parent of a severely asthmatic child knows what sheer terror it is to watch your child gasp for breath.  

Once, when RC was less than two years old, I raced him to the ER convinced I'd never get there in time.  My heart was racing, I was so freaked out I shouldn't have been driving, but omigod there was no time for an ambulance!  

The biggest miracle of the night was the fact I didn't crash the car in my crazed rush for the hospital.

RC survived that particular crisis.  I did too, but that one night alone must have aged me ten years. I will never forget cradling him in the hospital as a team of respiratory specialists worked frantically to keep him breathing.

As RC has gotten older we, with the help of an asthma specialist, have been able to keep his breathing under control much better than when he was younger.  Whenever he gets sick, however, our entire family holds a collective breath right along with him ... hoping we can get through the "crisis" without a trip to the hospital. 

His doctors have even given us an "emergency kit" to keep at home.  It includes some very serious drugs which, I'm told, are normally not allowed to be administered at home. Yes, it's that scary.

Given his history, you can understand why I panicked as I watched RC get progressively worse last week.  This time it was more than just a cold that triggered his asthma.  RC had a high fever, a bad sore throat, and a respiratory infection.  Of course, everything peaked on Thanksgiving night.  (When every doctor in the country is home sleeping off their turkey coma!)

RC got through it with the help of our home emergency kit.  After four days of struggling he's now stabilized and fine.  I barely slept during the entire ordeal because I needed to be awake to make sure he was breathing. I wanted to be ready to leave for the hospital on a moment's notice. What mother can sleep in those circumstances? 

So really, is it any surprise that I woke up last Saturday with a sore throat and fever of my own?  I never get sick.  This "bug" of RC's is kicking my butt.  The thing about being a mom, especially this time of the year, is there is no time for resting.  Despite feeling like crap, I was out running errands with TR every day over the weekend.  I was also cooking, doing laundry, and picking out our family Christmas tree.  There's so much that needs to be done around the holidays.

In any case, I hope you'll be patient with me this week as I try to recuperate a little. I'll be posting every day, but if my writing seems a little off you'll know why. (Many of you think my writing is always a little off anyway!)  I'm still maintaining my normal routine, but I feel like crap.  I'm drinking a lot of tea and living on cough drops. Between TR's visit home, nursing RC back to health, and being sick myself, I'm hopelessly behind on emails and my blogging routine.  If you haven't heard from me, please accept my apologies.  I hope to be caught up again in a few days.

UPDATE:  3:35 a.m.  Did I say RC was stable?  Noooooo, he's not.  I am still up with my own sky-rocketing fever and now he's up too.  That's right, another night of NO sleep.  Ugh!!  I think I need to get him to a doc NOW.  (Maybe me too?) 

I'll have another Joe the Bigamist update for you sometime this week! 

Giving Thanks

It's Thanksgiving here in the United States.  It's a day when we recount the many things we're thankful for.  We follow that by gorging ourselves on way too much food.  I'm always in charge of cooking the "feast" for our family.  I actually began with some of the cooking duties last weekend.  I've been preparing various dishes every day since.  

This morning I rose early and went straight to the kitchen.  I will remain there cooking in my PJ's until mid-morning.  At that time I'll take an hour break to shower, dress, and nag my kids to take care of whatever needs taking care of.  I will then return to the kitchen for many hours to come.  I love cooking so I don't mind.  Thanksgiving is a day when I don't have to feel the least bit guilty about doing nothing but cooking.

The males in my house will be watching football and will maybe even play a little football themselves with some of their friends.  They'll walk into the kitchen no less than one million times to see what I'm making, tell me how wonderful things smell, and ask when they can eat. Never mind if it's only 10 a.m., they'll want turkey.

TR is home from college and she'll be helping with the cooking.  She'll be my "right arm" so to speak and help out with some of the things I'm still not able to do with my injured arm. We'll plug my iPod into the stereo, crank the music and work away.  In the morning we'll sip coffee as we cook and by afternoon we'll have switched to wine.  

Holidays often make us reflect back on the previous year.  Where were we a year ago? What's changed?  Is life in a better place now? I have a very blessed life.  I could write pages upon pages of things I'm grateful for.  So as not to bore you, I've listed five things I'm grateful for this Thanksgiving.  I'm grateful for:

1.  My family and their health.

2.  The gains I've made in my recovery since last year at this time.

3.  The fact that TR is able to be home from college for the holidays.

4.  Our family hasn't (yet) been hit too hard by the downturn in the economy.

5.  Each and every friend, and reader, I've come to "know" through Twenty Four At Heart.

Happy Thanksgiving to each and every one of you!  What are you feeling thankful for this year?  

What's Next?

I've got nothing for you today.  I'm still dealing with the aftermath from yesterday's sex toy post. How do you follow a post like that? Last night I was making cranberry relish and baking bread and being very domestic.  That's me, I go from sex toys to baking bread without a blink. As I was cooking I started chatting on Twitter between tasks.  (See? A multi-tasker!)

You know what I learned?  Even men love sex toys.  Men are very intrigued even with the toys designed for women. After reading my comments, emails, and twitters I now know my female readers are a bunch of horny bitches. I knew there was a reason why I liked all of you so much.

I'm thinking my next blog giveaway may need to be a sex toy.  What do you think? Would you be interested?  Or would I end up with an extra toy on my hands? (I really think I've got plenty of toys for myself already!)

I've got to say, I have the best readers in the entire world-wide-web.  Your comments yesterday cracked me up.

Particularly this one from Amy in regard to my fondness for my new Flipper. Amy knew all the words to the old Flipper TV song:

They call him Flipper, Flipper, faster than lightning, 
No-one you see, is smarter than he, 
And we know Flipper, lives in a world full of wonder, 
Flying there-under, under the sea! 
Everyone loves the king of the sea, 
Ever so kind and gentle is he, 
Tricks he will do when children appear, 
And how they laugh when he's near! 
They call him Flipper, Flipper, faster than lightning, 
No-one you see, is smarter than he, 
And we know Flipper, lives in a world full of wonder, 
Flying there-under, under the sea!

The other comment that made me snort coffee all over my new MacBook was Jan's suggestion regarding a new movie titled 24@Heart Does Money Town.  I'm still not over that email! Hee hee ... laughing just writing about it.  Really Jan? If you only knew all the folks in Money Town! Ha ha ha!!

I also laughed at how strongly a few of you felt about certain songs needing to be on the Sex CD.  Some of you were simply outraged at the thought of your favorite sex songs not being included.  Remember, I did say I only mentioned a few of the songs in my post. There are 19 songs on the CD and I only listed 7.  You can relax, most likely your favorite sex song was included. 

I got a couple emails from people asking if I was prepared for the "fall out" in my real life from writing a post about sex toys.  The answer is, no, I am not.  I told family members not to read it.  If they do anyway, I'm not responsible for their emotional scarring.  Very few people in my "real" life know I'm Twenty Four At Heart, so hopefully no one will approach me to discuss sex toys on the street.

I'm not a sex toy expert, OK?

By the way?  "Romance" parties are all the rage with women right now so I don't think any pictures I show here are very shocking to many people.  Also, did you know the name of these parties has changed (at least here in California)?  Women now get invited to Poke Her parties instead of Romance parties.  Seriously.

As a quick side note, Joe the Bigamist called our mutual friend yesterday.  He was wondering what he should do for Thanksgiving this year.  I thought I'd pass that on because it made me laugh out loud. Life is bad when neither of your wives wants you home for the holidays.

My daughter, TR, is home from college for a few days.  I'm looking forward to enjoying some time with her.  I do have a Thanksgiving post that will be up tomorrow. You probably won't hear from me again after that until Monday.  I've got a lot of cooking to do.  And shopping.  It's time for some mother/daughter bonding time. If you're going to be too busy tomorrow to check in, then please accept my best wishes for a wonderful Thanksgiving now.  To my readers outside of the USA, thank you for your patience over the next few days as we celebrate our holiday!

Then The Cops Arrived

Hmmm.  Well, one thing is for sure.  When I pick a topic to blog about I don't always get what I expect in the way of reader feedback.  I am very glad so many of you like my teeth.  I never thought I'd be getting teeth comments from yesterday's post.  I'll have to thank my parents again for the orthodontist they hired when I was eleven.  I don't think I've ever been called "elusive" before either.  I'm extremely grateful you don't think I look like a marshmallow.  I passed that observation on to The Torturer, and I won't bore you with his long-winded (yawn!) response.  Lastly, no, I won't be posting any pictures of my cleavage anytime soon.  Thank you for asking anyway.

My daughter, TR, starts college classes this Thursday.  She's been living in her apartment in a town of nearly all college students for about two weeks now.  Apparently every guy for miles around has realized there are seven very pretty girls all living in one spot.  Their house has become the gathering place.  TR tells me "the guys all show up around dinner time wondering what we are cooking."  They arrive with gifts.  Gifts like a six pack of beer or similar romantic gestures.

Men are so sentimental at that age.

One male neighbor arrived with "weed" as a house warming gift for the girls.  They informed him they don't partake.  He arrived the next night with a tray of shots.  They refused.  The next night he brought over beers.  (He's a very persistent guy.)  If he was hot I imagine they would have been a little quicker to accept at least a beer from him, but apparently "he's a creep" and so his gifts keep getting rejected.  TR said the rejections aren't preventing him from appearing every evening.  I gave her nice motherly advice which included, "Don't ever open the door to him if you are alone in the house." 

Because I'm paranoid that way.  And maybe overly protective.

TR thought it would be best to inform me of her recent encounter with the police by instant messenger rather than through a phone conversation.  I'm sure it was just more convenient and not because she was afraid to tell me six cops had felt it was necessary to arrive at her house the night before.

There is a tradition at her school to "water balloon" the incoming freshmen.  The freshmen moved into their dorms last weekend.  All the parties are held in the adjacent neighborhood right off campus.  Returning students have big parties, hide out on their balconies, etc. and blast the freshmen with water balloons as they walk the streets looking for parties.  Harmless fun, right?

Apparently not.

TR's house has a big front yard which is unusual in her neighborhood.  It has a fence going around the perimeter.  A big front yard makes for big college parties with an excessive number of guests.  A beer-pong table is prominently displayed in the front yard also. 

Excessive guests equaled an excessive number of water balloons equaled an excessive number of drenched freshmen and a huge mess out on the street.  Six cops showed up to break up the party.  They were a little surprised to find seven cute co-eds at the center of the mayhem. 

The cops made them drag all the water balloons out onto the street and pop them right in front of them.  ("Did they have vodka in them?" I asked; she said, "No!")  Then they made the girls and their many party guests clean up the mess on the street.  They issued them a warning, did not even comment on the massive amounts of visible alcohol everywhere, and left.

TR said the party "resumed in about thirty seconds," but without water balloons.  I asked her again, "What day do classes start?"

I'm wondering how soon she'll be busy with school and have less time for fun and debauchery. 

TR is at my alma mater.  I'm quite sure I never had any encounters with the police when I lived there.  Ahem ... well, no encounters which were noteworthy really.  Or maybe just none that I care to mention.  (I never went to jail, alright?) 

I did have two male friends who were convicted of a felony.  It sounds terrible doesn't it?  What type of delinquents did I hang out with?

Actually they were two very nice guys.  Both of them were smart (?) and very good students.  They decided one night after a few beers to have an adventure.  There was an avocado orchard not too far away.  They went to the orchard, hopped the fence and went crazy picking avocados.  They filled up bag, after bag, after bag, of avocados.  Don't ask me why.  Both boys lived in a dorm and they had no access to a kitchen.  They didn't pick the avocados to eat, they just felt like picking them.

Do you know what the price of an avocado is?

They came back showing off their wares and inviting us all to share in their bounty.  No one wanted their avocados.  We all lived in a dorm and had no kitchen tools and no way of making guacamole.  The avocados sat in their car overnight.

It turns out the owner of the orchard had seen the boys leaving and recorded their license plate.  The police showed up and the "evidence" was still in their car.  Those avocados were worth a lot of money and their "prank" resulted in both boys pleading guilty to grand theft.  My friends were convicted of a felony.

Did you ever have an encounter with the police when you were in high school or college?  Did you have an almost-encounter with the police?  Or maybe you should have had many encounters, but got lucky?  Let's hear it!

Kind of Like a Spit Ball

I had an exhausting weekend.  I woke up in the pre-dawn hours on Saturday to head up the coast towards TR's new place.  She's in her first apartment this year.  It isn't really an apartment at all, but a large house divided into a duplex.  Seven girls are renting out the downstairs.  (Seven very pretty girls in one house!)  She moved in last week, but we were following with a load of her over sized belongings in my SUV.  She was overjoyed to see us.  We The checkbook had arrived.

First we took her out to eat.  Then we spent the rest of the day helping her get set up in her new place.  We unpacked stuff.  We set up shelves and drawers for organizing her belongings.  We ran to a local mattress store and purchased her a mattress.  We bought a desk.  We spent a couple hundred dollars on an initial grocery run.  Towards evening things started coming together.  We were broke, but the place looked livable.  Right about then a bunch of hot guys showed up.  Boys that age have girl-radar.  Briefcase and I were hugged good-bye in seconds flat and sent on our way. 

Sigh ... it's hard being a parent sometimes.

It was a long drive home.  Longer still due to a few bad accidents.  We had decided against staying overnight because PR needed to be at a baseball game fairly early on Sunday.  Both of our boys had stayed home and not participated in the marathon driving escapade.  We arrived home late.  I poured myself a glass of wine to unwind from a zillion hours of driving in one day.  Not long after, I fell asleep.

I tell you all this so you understand why I had no idea on that same day PR had come down with a nasty, disgusting, head cold/sinus infection.  He was asleep when I left and asleep when I came home.  I talked to him briefly on the phone, but he sounded fine.  On Sunday we woke up and started packing to leave for his baseball game.  He looked horrible.  Puffy eyes, a red nose, a sore throat and nonstop snot flowing from his nose.  Gross.

I handed him a cold capsule and told him he should stay home and not play.  I told Briefcase to call the coach and let him know PR was sick.  Briefcase raised one eyebrow at me and said nothing.  PR said, "I'm playing."  That was the sum total of my input in the matter.  Briefcase and PR left together in one car.  PR needed to arrive an hour early for warm-ups.  I followed later, arriving just as the game was set to begin.

Imagine my dismay to arrive and find out PR was scheduled to be the starting pitcher.  For those of you who don't follow baseball, pitchers have a lot of pressure.  All eyes focus on pitchers.  It is painfully obvious when a pitcher has an off day.  They throw pitch the ball and  hit kids batters and hurt them.  Parents People notice.  No one appreciates it.  At all.

I asked Briefcase if he had warned the coach PR was sick.  Briefcase informed me that "at least half the team" was sick with the same thing.  In fact, the coach thought it was likely PR had caught it from one of the other players earlier that week at practice.  I looked out at the mound and PR was blowing his nose, stuffing the tissue into the back pocket of his baseball pants, and then throwing a warm-up pitch to his catcher.

Let's talk about germs here.  Blow snot on tissue, wipe nose with hand for good measure, touch ball and throw it to catcher.  Catcher handles ball and then decides to "throw around the horn" where they pass it from one player to another until everyone has had a chance to get PR's snot on their hands.  Lovely, isn't it?!

I held my breath as PR pitched his first inning.  He did pretty well considering how sick he was.  He didn't give up any runs.  Yay PR.  He definitely got kids on both teams contaminated with snot germs.  During his second inning he struggled a little.  It wasn't a disaster, but I think he gave up a run. 

The cold capsule seemed to have warn off and the floodgates of his nose had opened.  The same raggedy tissue (now soaked with snot) kept coming out of that dirty back pocket for a quick swipe at the nose between batters.  Sometimes there wasn't time for a tissue swipe between pitches and his hand had to do.  I wanted to gag.  I did.  Maybe several times.

Every time I watched another kid handle the ball I could clearly picture their filthy hands covered with billions of PR's snot germs.  When PR came out to pitch a third inning I glanced questioningly at Briefcase. 

"They're all sick," he said in explanation.

He meant the coach figured none of the pitchers felt great, so why pull PR out.

By this point, PR's nose was a continual faucet.  I tried to look everywhere, except at him.  Did I mention I was gagging a lot?  PR is pretty good with off-speed pitches.  All of a sudden his pitches were breaking all over the place.  I noticed PR "drying off" the ball on his dirt covered pants leg.  Baseball brick dust and snot mingled together.  (Gag again, and even more so this time!) 

His next pitch was awesome.

A man sitting next to me turned and said, "That was an amazing pitch, what does he call it?"

I averted my eyes and answered, "It's kind of like a spit ball, but different."   

The Family Jewels

I stared at the shelves in front of me in bewilderment.  I live with three creatures from the male species, but I've never portrayed myself to be an expert on all things male.  I was faced with an array of Family Jewel Protectors and at a loss as to what I should purchase.  I imagine it's how a 12 year old boy might feel if he was plopped down in Victoria Secret and told to purchase his mom a bra.  Which bra?  What size?  Clasp in front or back?  What are the differences between all of them?

I glanced around for a salesman, but there were none to be found.  I was a little relieved initially.  How embarrassing to be in my forties and not know how to buy such an essential piece of equipment for my own family members. 

Oops ... did I just write family members?

My relief quickly turned into frustration as I realized there were dozens upon dozens of choices in front of me.  Jockstraps in all sizes and colors.  And cups to go with them.  Some jockstraps include cups, and some don't.  Some cups are "shock absorbers."  Who knew?  There are also shorts/briefs with cup holders that guys can wear.  I've laundered some of this stuff for years, but have I ever really looked at it?  No, I guess I haven't.

I picked up a jock strap.  I was envisioning it worn as a thong.  How do those straps work?  Wouldn't that be uncomfortable?  How do you run and jump if it is worn like a thong?  I played with the straps some more, trying to manipulate them around in a manner which might work.  Briefly, I twirled it on my finger sizing it up.  I began humming, "Will It Go Round in Circles?" by Billy Preston, as I continued my twirling.  Remember that song?  A customer walked by and looked at me curiously.  I quickly averted my glance and returned the jockstrap to it's rightful place. 

I flashed back to several years previous.  My son, RC, was only 11 and playing in a baseball tournament.  Another boy on the team, Joey, always chose to wear his baseball pants skin tight.  Joey would fill in as a catcher periodically.  Catchers are required to wear cups even at young ages.  Joey must have borrowed his dad's or older brother's cup.  Joey kept showing up to games in skin tight baseball pants and an enormous bulge to go with them.

Finally, one day. a mom from the team turned to me and said, "I don't think Joey should wear such tight baseball pants if he's going to wear that cup."

I replied, "Joey doesn't wear a cup, what are you talking about?"

The expression on her face was one of total shock.  Then the laughter began.  I don't know if I've ever seen anyone laugh as hard, or for as long, as she did.  Yes, I'm quite sure I'm going to hell for talking about little boy's bulges with another mom.

I continued staring at the Penis Protector choices in front of me.  (Sort of like pocket protectors, but different.)  I was paralyzed with fear.  I didn't want to make any of the males in my house look like Joey.  There were youth sizes, teen sizes, and adult sizes in front of me.  I randomly picked up a package, read it, and said aloud, "Thirty six inches . . . hmmm he's not that big."

I heard a snicker behind me.  Startled, I turned to find a salesman.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

Immediately I felt embarrassed.  I know that's ridiculous.  I'm an adult woman, but nonetheless, I could feel my face flushing.

"My son got really big over the summer," I stammered. 

He grinned. 

"He grew four inches," I confessed. 

Immediately I cringed at my own words.  I was mortified. 

I saw the salesman fighting to contain his laughter.  My face turned a deeper red.  Why is it Briefcase is never in town at critical moments like this?  And why do I have a perpetual case of foot in mouth disease?

The salesman, still smiling, informed me that the package indicates the waist size of the jock strap.

"Of course," I nodded.  I tried, but failed, to look nonchalant.  What?  Everyone knows jockstraps are sold by waist size.  Right?!  Of course I knew that.  I'm sure someone had mentioned it to me somewhere along the line.  Maybe.

The salesman asked if I needed some assistance.  Humiliated, I declined.  He left me alone to further ponder the variety of Penis Protectors.  I noticed the different colors.  I picked up packages and noted the waist sizes.  I debated the pros and cons of jockstraps vs. briefs with cup holders.

Forty five minutes later I was still there.  I had looked at every variety of Family Jewel Protector the store offered.  More than once.  In a quandary, I finally gathered several in my basket and headed to the cash register.  Mr. Salesman met me along the way.  He took the top package from me, looked at it, then glanced at my overflowing basket of assorted penis protector products.

"I want to make sure you understand these products can't be returned," he said. 

I nodded my understanding.  In my basket I had one of almost every size and variety of jockstrap, cup, and/or brief.  There is absolutely no chance of me ever returning any of them.  It was disconcerting enough having to buy them in the first place.  One of them has got to be the right size/style/color. 

Don't ya think?   

She Takes After Her Mother

I don't spend a lot of time talking about my kids.  They are all old enough to deserve a little privacy (most of the time).  Also, let's face it ... how interested are most of us in other people's kids?  However, I knew you would get a laugh out of this so I am asking you to bear with me for a few minutes.  You need just a little background in order to appreciate the ending to today's post.

My daughter, TR, is 19.  She was accepted into a program to study in Europe this summer.  We saw her for our Hawaii vacation and then she left the following day for Europe.  Tough life, right?  In fairness to her, she worked three jobs last school year to go towards her trip to Europe. That money didn't last a week, but that's a whole different story.

Since she arrived to "study" we have been getting pictures emailed to us from all over Europe.  I don't know how often she's making it to class when she seems to be visiting every country she can cram in.  Her college roommate from the United States flew over to Europe to visit her and travel with her for two of the nine weeks she's there.  Here's a picture they took in England.  TR is the blondish one.

 

Here's a little known fact about me.  I love cows.  Cows have long eyelashes, and I have an affinity for cows.  That is why she sent this particular photo.

Here's another photo someone took of her in Paris recently.

So now you have the general idea.  She's having a blast and she isn't staying in any one spot for very long.

The other day I hopped on her Facebook page to see an update of her photos.  I realized then how much she takes after me.  She was in Prague.  There are castles in Prague; there are many beautiful sights in Prague.  

So what one sight do you think TR chose to share from Prague on Facebook with all her friends back home?  Was it the castle?  Or, perhaps, the quaint buildings?  A beautiful landscape?

No, this is Prague.  Take a close look.  The world's worst comb-over.

Twenty Four At Heart will be hosting a celebration contest beginning on Tuesday of next week!

Bitch Reflex

I was floating doing my arm rehab in the pool yesterday.  As I floated worked very hard (the Torturer reads my blog) I also did some thinking.  I'm feeling a little out of sorts the last few days.  (Read: bitchy!)  Briefcase is off traveling, but that's nothing new.  TR is spending a few months in Europe studying.  (Really she's partying in every country she can get to.)  RC is in and out a lot this summer.  He's busy working at his job, or vacationing with friends, or socializing.  PR is ... fine.  Everything is just fine and so ho-hum.  So why do I feel like my Bitch Reflex is barely under control and about to emerge any second?

You know what a Bitch Reflex is, right?  When you just want to tear someone's head off, stomp it on the ground and find the next person to do the exact same to.  When you can give a look and that look alone sends quivers down the spine of the recipient.  A strong Bitch Reflex changes your tongue into a lethal weapon delivering words that can do more damage than a gun or a sword.  The Bitch Reflex in all it's uncontrolled glory is quite a sight to behold.

Sometimes hormones bring on a Bitch Reflex.  I wish I could blame the way I've felt lately on hormones, but I can't.  Men have Bitch Reflexes too.  Women don't own the Bitch Reflex, although we may have perfected it.  Maybe it's the heat or the fact we've had some unusual humidity lately?  I'm not used to humidity in Orange County.  Sure, I guess I can blame the weather.  I feel like it wouldn't take much at all to push me into Bitch Reflex land right now.  It might be awhile till I come back.

Or perhaps it's not the weather but the fact that I can't seem to accomplish one single productive thing each day with the kids out of school.  They seem to be running in and out constantly.  Why do I feel the need to be productive in the first place?  Why do they need me to drive them somewhere or pick them up from somewhere every time I start to do anything.  Why is it getting on my nerves so much lately?  Usually I'm okay with it.  

I love summer.  I love the heat; I love having the kids and all their friends around.  I like staying up late each night without the restriction of a 5:30 a.m. alarm to get the school day started.  So why a Bitch Reflex surfacing now?  Could it be post-Hawaii let down?  Taking a vacation the very first week the kids were out of school was great.  Now, however, a lot of hot summer days stretch ahead without anything super exciting to look forward to.  Maybe I just need to plan a cheap weekend getaway or something?

Well, whatever it is ... it is.  I may not be able to pinpoint what the cause is, but I do recognize that it's taking immense willpower to contain the Bitch Reflex.  What makes you cranky?  What revs up your Bitch Reflex?  Also, what snaps you out of it and gets you back to normal?  Anyone have any sure-fire cures for Bitch Reflex?  And please don't say sex ... Briefcase is out of town and I didn't buy Wire Man!

Speaking of Wire Man ....  As an aside to those of you who read yesterday's post.  Last night I could not stop singing The Hammer Song.  I was singing and/or humming it for hours after reading your comments!  You remember it, right?  "If I had a hammer ... I'd hammer in the morning.  I'd hammer in the evening ...." Ha!