Also...

So, there are some random things I'd like to talk about, but none of them really have anything to do with the others.  That's why this blog post is called Also... because you're going to get a whole bunch of little stuff that I also want to tell you.  Just go with it...

• Well, first thing's first.  Many of you have been wondering about the fate of the flower plant from my first post.  I'm glad to tell you that it's doing just great.  I still don't know what it is, and I still don't have a name for it... which is probably why it's still alive.  Alive, despite my husband accidentally hitting it with a table cloth.  I don't know what happened with that- I wasn't there.  This plant is quite the trooper.  Here's a pretty picture of it for proof.

• The refrigerator is still doing great.  And, since the water dispenser is on the inside, it was hilarious when a friend tried to get water from the refrigerator while still trying to trap the coolness inside it.  

• The neighbor's son came over for a little bit yesterday.  I gave him some cookies I'd baked, but he didn't like the walnuts in them.  He did say, "Next time, you can make vanilla cookies with vanilla icing... and sprinkles!"  It was too cute.  I adore this child... and he will have his vanilla cookies with vanilla icing and sprinkles.

• Someone on Reddit does not like this blog and I find that hilarious.  I don't know why, I just do.

DISCLAIMER: This next blurb should not be read by my fathers, brother, uncles, or anyone else skittish when it comes to womanly things.  Just skip it and move on.

• I said the word "vagina" to my doctor.  Actually the sentence was, "You mean, you're going to see my vagina?"  In all fairness, I'd just found out that (in the military system) your PCM does your girly exam.  So, Tuesday is V-Day.  After that, whenever I'm sick I'll be thinking, and let's face it- I may end up really saying, "So... you've seen my vagina... What a lovely day that was."  And every time my husband has to go to the doctor he'll, in my mind, be thinking, "Remember that day we looked at my wife's vagina together? Yeahhhh. Let's not do that again."  Yup, because I'm having my husband come with me.  I don't want to hurt the doctor's feelings by having one of his coworkers come in and stand guard over my girl area.  It would undermine his awesome doctoring skills.  However, I'm not so comfortable spreading my legs on my own just yet.  We just met!  My husband will be there.  He's Coast Guard, so he can just pretend my girly area is the coast and he's guarding it.  Or he'll just look away and feel uncomfortable, while internally cussing me out.  Still, it should make for a fun blog post that night.

The bad, scary part is now over.  You may continue reading, if you wish.  If you are one of the people who I said NOT to read the passage above, and if you read it anyway, do not tell me that you did.  Please.  

• We kind of scared my daughter's teacher the other day.  My daughter's classroom is out in the module/trailer section in the back of the school.  Because they are out there, the teacher's requests for things for the class have been forgotten about numerous times.  The kids needed cubbies for their things really badly.  They've been keeping everything in their backpacks on the backs of their chairs.  Whenever they'd get up to go anywhere, their chairs would fall backward with a huge thunk... which made changing classrooms and lunch time so much fun. So, we'd decided that we'd provide the cubbies.  We went and got those shelves from Target that have the nine square cubbies per unit and brought them to the classroom.  When we walked in, the teacher was teaching.  So, we just propped the boxes up against the wall, I told the kids that they better listen to the teacher and do their best work, and we left after saying goodbye to the teacher and hugging our daughter.  I thought he must have been in shock, because all he did was look at us like we had ten heads... each.  Turns out, he had no idea who we were.  My daughter had to tell him we were her parents and make him feel better.  While laughing hysterically at poor Mr. Teacher, I sent him an email and he replied that he's grateful... and can't figure out how to put them together.  Yup, I'll be bringing my tools over on Monday afternoon to put them together for him.  That should be a good follow up post too.

• I found out that Senior Chief knows that sometimes I forget and call him Super Chief.  I'm kind of afraid that at one of the next events he'll be wearing a cape and will make fun of me.  Though, that would be hilarious.  Bring it on Super Senior Chief.

• We had some amazing weather the other day.  Thunder and lightening storms, crazy clouds, and double rainbows.  This made my neighborhood look so pretty.

So, that's all I can remember for now.  I'm pretty tired and worn out after such a busy week.  This week coming up seems like it's going to be even more jam-packed full of crazy things.  If nothing else, it should be interesting, informative, and insane.  Good luck to all my loves who will be starting classes without me tomorrow.  I'm with you in spirit and I want to hear every detail!!!

In Honor of My Russian Reader(s)

It's come to my attention, because I have been checking quite often, that this blog has been read twice in Russia.  Considering I don't know anyone in Russia, I'm so thrilled beyond reason.  Russia is one of the places I've always wanted to go to.

For you, my Russian readers, I give you the only word I know in Russian (though I had to Google how to write it):

бабушка (which sounds like babooshka in English)

Thank you, whoever you are, for reading my blog and making me International.  I'm sure you've wandered to other blogs by now, bored with one silly American woman's rantings.  However, you've given me quite the thrill.

If you still read the blog and could tell me another Russian word, I'd be even more thrilled.

Thanks again for reading, and бабушка.

Mr. Squirrel, You Are Quite Nuts

As you may have read on my previous couple of blog posts, we have quite the squirrel at our house.  He's not our nemisis, like the squirrel at my brother-in-law's house is to him.  He won't be our pet either... despite my trying my best to bribe him to come hang out with me.  I'm sure my husband is grateful to the squirrel for keeping his distance, since I'm already angling for a pygmy hippo.  Instead, he is something quite different.

Our squirrel, aka Mr. Squirrel, is a ninja gargoyle squirrel.  I have proof!

We came home from IKEA (the land of no screws) to find Mr. Squirrel like this:

We were able to get out of the car and walk almost all the way up to the house without him budging a bit.  It seemed, to me, that he was imitating one of those gargoyles you see on the side of old churches with amazing architecture... like Notre Dame.  I wondered just how far he would take this game of pretend.  So, I tried to touch him.  This brought out his amazing ninja skills.  Sorry- skills with a "z" would be better, so, skillz.  He jumped to the side of the house and tried to hide.

Mr. Squirrel learned very quickly that I have ninja skills, too.  I'm very good at spotting squirrels who think they are stealthy... when in all actuality, they are not.  Within a few seconds, Mr. Squirrel scaled the walls of the house and jumped, landing on the overhang on top of my bedroom window*.  Then he watched us vigilantly to make sure we went away.

He was very good at the scaling of the walls and the jumping, but not so much on the hiding.  Once again, he gave himself away by being nosy. He just had to see what we were doing.  Perhaps, he likes IKEA too and wanted to see what we had bought.  Quite possibly, he was deciding that running from me was not as good of an option as becoming my pet. Well, probably not... but wouldn't that be wonderfully awesome?  My husband would roll his eyes and say, "NO!"... but we all know it would be.

I really think he was cussing us out because we were standing in the way of him getting to our garbage... or to some nuts that the neighbor girls were feeding him earlier.  I told him to lay off eating so many nuts, because you are what you eat... and he's quite nuts enough.


*From now on, I will be leaving that window open, with the hopes that Mr. Squirrel will want to take a nap... in our room... so I can keep him... and come up with a better name for him.

Serious-ly Messed Up

This post should have been able to be a fun post about squirrels, and I will get to that later today, but I've just had the most seriously messed up doctor's visit... ever.  That's really saying something, because most of the doctors I've ever seen have been total train wrecks and this doctor is amazing so far.  At this appointment I learned a whole lot about my own medical history, since the doctors I went to never gave me any of this information years ago when they should have.

First off, Dr. H starts going through my medical history because it's the first time I've ever seen him and he wanted to be thorough.  Already I adore this man.  He starts this off by telling me that there are some troubling things in my charts that he wanted to address.

Troubling thing #1: "When you were diagnosed with Lupus, what did you do for treatment? The treatment isn't listed here."  Had I ever been told by the doctor who diagnosed me with Lupus that I'd had it, there would be treatments in there.  So, there I am, completely upset because that diagnosis would have made so much sense all these years... and because some of the things I've been taking/doing would not have been taken/done had I known.  We decided that it would be best to make another appointment to go over these findings in my chart and do a whole new work up of tests to figure out what on Earth was going on.  This made me feel better and I adore this guy even more.

Troubling thing (and most troubling thing) #2:  "When they did your hysterectomy, did they take your right ovary?  It shows here that they found a malignant mass on your ovary."  Um, ok.  The world stopped at that very moment and went backwards so that the moment was repeated over again... like in Superman when he flies backward around the world to reverse time a bit to save Lois and get the missiles.  Except, this was way less awesome and more horrific.  I had been told there was a mass on my ovary and that they were going to biopsy it and that they would let me know if it turned out badly.  They said they didn't see anything bad, so I relaxed about it and pretty much let it go.  To find out now that it was malignant is scary beyond measure.  We're going to be discussing this at my next appointment and I'll be referred to a specialist to get things checked out now.  Also, Dr. H is going to call the other places where the records were from and get the straight story from them... and hopefully verbally bitch slap them all.

So, after a simple appointment to get my knee checked because I hurt it on the exercise bike (yes, the exercise bike) at the gym... I was totally freaked out and worried.  I'm not anymore, though.  There are two main reasons why I'm not worried too much anymore.

Reason #1:  I truly believe that we're not given anything we can't handle... we're just tested on how well we handle it.  I have all the faith in the world that I can beat/manage anything that is thrown at me.

Reason #2: I am made up of a little bit of everyone in my family... which means I'm one tough cookie.  I'm a fighter like my Papa and I'm stubborn as all Hell like my Grandpa.  I cook and bake my worries away, like Grammy.  I laugh inappropriately and can stay strong because of it, like Mom and my Sister.  I'm stern and collected, like my Father.  I'm goofy and smart, like my Brother.  I'm inspired by my Husband and Children (who better sleep in this weekend, or else!).  There's no room for giving up and so there's no room for being afraid.  It is what it is and I'll handle it.

And, so.. this was my morning of crazy.  Sorry the post was so serious... but it was seriously messed up to find all this out.  I should really have asked for copies of my medical records to look at sooner.

Please make sure you follow up on everything with your doctor.  Make sure to get copies of the paperwork, so you know they are telling you everything.  Please do everything you can to never end up in a situation like this.  And if you ever do, watch the Superman movies.  Something about those movies makes me feel a little stronger...  Maybe it's the fact that at least I'm not prone to falling off of buildings as much as Lois Lane.

The Screw Situation: All Fixed Up

In the last post on this blog, I told you all how we were screwed because we didn't have screws.  Well, I'm happy to report that we were able to go get screws today... and that the curtains have been successfully hung up.  I'd also like to report that my husband hung everything up... so you know it's level and there aren't a bunch of extra holes in the wall.  I was allowed to help put the curtains on the rods.  Here are some pictures to prove that I didn't mess anything up.  Also, they are proof that I have not yet received the gift of a nail gun like I've been asking and hoping for.

My son would like me to tell you all that the bottom picture is his room and the curtains are red, not pink.

My daughter would like me to tell you all that she has more stuffed animals in her closet, but that she leaves her closet doors open so they can breathe.

I would have shown you our curtains, but our room is not put together from the move yet.  In fact, it looks somewhat like the zombie apocalypse has come and gone after several nuclear bombs exploded.  I wish I were joking.

Also, on another topic, we have a ninja squirrel.  There will be more on that later... but I can tell you that he is cute and quite impressive... and paranoid.

Screwed Without Screws

Today was the day... It was the day we were finally going to IKEA for the first time.  We'd just had lunch at McAlister's Deli (if you have not gone there yet, GO!) and decided to go to IKEA to find black out curtains for our bedrooms*.  I was excited beyond measure and ready to get my shopping on.

As we pulled up to the IKEA store, I couldn't believe my eyes.  That place is HUGE!!!  I've seen airports smaller than that place.  When we walked into the store, there were smells of cinnamon and other yummy things.  There were mini rooms all set up... and it felt like I could just live in that room right there.  Also, I wondered if this was how goldfish felt.  Were they fine with everyone watching them because their tank was so amazingly decorated and comfy?  The world may never know.  However, I do know (from personal experience) that the workers at IKEA will frown at you scoldingly** if you lay on the couch/bed or if you pretend to turn the fake appliances up louder.  They are extremely helpful and nice, so it evens out... slightly.

So, anyways... Curtains.  We walked through half of the upstairs of the store, blindly following arrows while I was pointing at all the things I must eventually buy, when we were told that the curtains were downstairs and past the bedding.  About thirty minutes later, we made it past all of the upstairs arrows, down the escalator, and half way through the downstairs showroom to the curtains.  By that time, due to rude shoppers and the inability to go back to look at the things I missed because the arrows forbade it, I was completely stressed and getting a little crazed.  Also, I had to pee.  Badly.

We finally found the curtains that we were looking for.  At least we thought they were the curtains we were looking for. (I bet, if I were less tired, I could totally put in a Star Wars reference right here.)  The curtains only come in two sizes: really long and ever so much longer.  The man I found first told me that we could hem them with some tape.  I was all for that, since I'm a menace with a sewing needle.  I also got extra hemming sticky stuff for my pants (I'm super short).  The woman I found next told me that the size was for only one of the panels, so the curtains would definitely cover our windows.  The third person I found told me where the bathrooms were. Ok, the third person I found was my husband... but I love him even more than I did before we went to IKEA because he'd found a bathroom for me.

Rods, hooks for the rods to be held to the wall, and the knobs that go on each end of the curtain rods were all sold separately.  Of course, it takes the kids and I about twenty minutes to decide exactly which knobs we wanted.  By the end of that time, I had tons of inappropriate jokes running through my mind... which I could not share because the kids were right there.  Darn it, Kids!!!

Now that we had what we wanted, it was time to walk through the rest of the downstairs of the store to get to the registers.  On the way, I found a chopping board of wood and two of plastic that I just HAD to have.  So, we got those too. See?

We got to the register and paid ($250!) for what we had in the cart... and 59 cents for the bag to carry it in. Yes, people, you have to buy the bag you check out with***.  I'm going to use the crap out of that bag.  Everywhere I go, that bag will be used for something.  I'm getting my 59 cents worth out of that bag.

All things considered, I very much want to go back to IKEA again... without the kids and during the middle of a work day so there aren't as many other people around.

We got home, got comfortable, and got ready to hang our curtains.  To hang the curtains, as you know, we must hang the rods first.  After opening all the pieces we bought for hanging the rod, we disbelievingly stared at the contents of all the packages.  There were NO screws.  Well, technically, there weren't any screws... but saying it the other way shows my righteous indignation at the discovery.

So, after all the crowds, arrow following, pee holding, maze walking, awesome escalator riding****, and money spent... we were screwed.  And, ironically, we were screwed because we had no screws.  Take that, Alanis!


*Black out curtains are necessary because the kids wake up at dawn's crack. (Yes, I know it's really "the crack of dawn", but I like saying it this way better.  It has more of a flare to it, doesn't it?)  Since I don't do crack (the drug or the waking up at it), we trick the kids into sleeping later with these curtains.

**Don't pick on my words.  The fact that it's a real word doesn't go away just because Webster forgot to write it in his little book.  After all, they are starting to add texting terms into that book.

***Being cheap, I'd started tucking in my shirt and ordering the rest of my family to do the same.  I did not want to buy that bag on principle.  We were going to do this pumpkin patch style- all you can carry in your shirts, pockets, hands, and on your heads.  My family was not going for it.  We ended up buying the bag.

****The escalators were almost the best part of the whole trip.  On the way out, there's an escalator to take with your shopping cart.  When you're on the escalator, you can LET GO of your cart and it will stay there!  There are little grippers on the sides of the wheels.  So freaking cool.  I wanted to go on again, but after seeing the looks I was getting from the men folk of my family, I silently made a pact with myself to come back and ride it a bunch of times in the near future.

DISCLAIMER: Due to being exhausted and the fact that there's a Denver Broncos game on, I've decided that (for this post) I was going to say "screw you" to grammar.  I apologize to my cringing grammar fanatic friends out there.  You know who you are.

NOTE TO THE DENVER BRONCOS: Not that I think any of you are reading this, though it would be way awesome if you were, stop sucking tonight. Many of you are on my FFB team.  Get it together.  That is all.

Hell Hath Frozen Over... In My Refrigerator

Being a military family, we live on base.  In fact, we are a Coast Guard family on an Air Force Base.  When a military family signs onto a base, they can go on a list for a house.  The rent is taken out of our paycheck right away when we get paid and we're supposed to have some benefits to living here.  One of the benefits we have is a 24/7 hotline for Maintenance to come fix whatever is wrong in the house, especially if it's an emergency.  Well, we've lived here for almost three weeks and have had one emergency after another with our (former) refrigerator.

Note: This is normally where I would joke and say something like, "May it rest in peace and see all of its refrigerator relatives in refrigerator heaven."  However, I hate it with a passion I've never felt before.  So, I hope it rots for all eternity in a junk heap and is pulled apart by rats and moles.  I promise you, it totally deserves that fate.

The refrigerator was a lovely refrigerator, at first.  It had a nice freezer with an ice maker.  It had a water dispenser on the inside, which was completely new to me.  All of my groceries fit ever so nicely and neatly.  There was even extra room for when I would make pudding.  We were very happy with our refrigerator.  Then, it decided to go all wonky... and when the refrigerator went wonky... I did too.  Don't judge. You would have gone loony too!

Two days after we moved in, and after we filled the refrigerator with all of our groceries, the refrigerator was warming up.  Nothing would stay cold at all.  My husband did his own "experiment" to check if the refrigerator was working.  He put a soda on top of the refrigerator and left the rest inside of it.  The one on top of the refrigerator was colder... by far.  So, this was my first phone call to Maintenance.  The guy came out the next day, after we had to throw away about $100 of spoiled food.  He was very nice, replaced the fan, and we were reimbursed for the food we had lost.  I was a happy camper because the refrigerator was much cooler.  I could finally relax with new groceries and the prospect of putting milk in my coffee the next morning.


Well, a few days go by and we notice that there is a puddle in the refrigerator.  Did the kids push the water button and not clean it up?  Did I spill something? That was definitely a possibility. I'm pretty clumsy.  I cleaned it up and walked away.  Later that night, there was the puddle... but frozen.  I was not a happy girl.  And so, Maintenance came to our house at 1030 at night to replace the hose from the freezer to the refrigerator.  It was over.  The refrigerator was now fixed.  Or so we thought.

Another few days later, the same problem was happening but worse.  I'd had it.  Maintenance was called.  The Housing Agent we work with was called and she, to her credit, made someone come out right away.  While she is amazing, it took Maintenance until just this morning to replace our refrigerator with its, hopefully nicer, twin.

As the refrigerator was being pulled out of the house, it had decided that ruining three rounds of groceries and taunting me daily was not enough.  Instead of going quietly into that great night... we got this instead.

Yes, we got one last "Eff- You!" from the refrigerator that could have frozen over Hell itself (that trail of water went all the way from the kitchen to the end of the driveway).  Goodness knows I thought I was in Hell for the last few weeks with what it was doing.  And, I admit, I'd told the refrigerator to go to Hell many times.

So, this is my public promise to my new refrigerator:

I promise you, refrigerator, to not leave you open accidentally or on purpose.  I solemnly vow to never slam you shut.  However, if you should act like your twin, you will meet his same sticky end.

For now, my tiny shred of sanity is in tact once again... and tonight, I will have sweet dreams of moles and mice tearing that other refrigerator apart shelf by shelf.  I did say tiny shred of sanity.

Green Thumb... I don't have one.

When I was a little girl, Grandpa had a huge garden.  There were paths between all the plants.  There were so many vegetables in the garden that none of us actually had to go to the store and buy any all summer long.  I'd spend many hours in the garden with Grammy picking the vegetables and talking about how, someday, I would grow my own garden with vegetables and flowers and popcorn plants (I was little and thought the popcorn kernels were seeds).  For a little girl growing up on Long Island (in NY), a garden was an amazing thing to have in a back yard.

Fast forward a few (ahem... quite a few) years, and I still can't get a plant to live more than a few days.  Oh, I've tried!  I've tried everything I could think of.  I've had many plants, and each one has decided that death is better than dealing with me as their owner.

Determined to have a plant live under my care, I've purchased two plants in the last two weeks.  The first plant was a basil plant.  After three attempts at getting basil to grow from seeds and leaves from my Grammy's basil plants, I'd decided to go with an actual growing basil plant.  After 24 hours, the poor thing was dead... no matter what I did to try to make it live!

In my defense, I did buy the basil plant from Walmart and it was half dead when I got it.  I figured it would die if I didn't save it and nurse it back to health.  We (my husband and I) bought it a new pot, some nice soil, and (because I insisted) some bottled water.  Ok, the water was for me, but I swear I shared it with my basil.  We took him home and I named him Cecil.  I don't know why... just go with it.  Cecil started to look good once I put him in his new pot and gave him some water.  After an hour, Cecil began to get all shriveled up and wouldn't stand up.  Cleverly, I used a plastic fork to prop him up in his pot.  Since the package he came in said that basil plants need constant sunlight, I moved him around the front and back yards so that he would be in the sun all day long.  I gave him extra water because the package said that the soil needed to stay moist.  Cecil was looking so sad by the end of the night that I used cooled coffee water to perk him up.  Well, apparently that isn't supposed to be done with herbal plants.  Oops.  Cecil died a quick and (I hope) painless death.  I, on the other hand, lived with the awful feeling of being a plant murderer for the rest of the week. My husband shook his head and told me maybe next time we don't get the dying plant.  I agreed.

This brings us to yesterday, and the plant that is (by some miracle) still alive.  I'm not even sure what kind of plant it is.  It has pretty flowers and it looked like it wanted to come home with me (read as: I really wanted another plant and this one was the closest to me while walking around the store aimlessly).  So, I bought her.  She doesn't have a name yet.  I figure, after I name them it all goes down hill from there.  For now, the plant is called "she who must not be named"*.  Well, to get the plant home in one piece, I put it in my cup holder in my car and put the air conditioning on so she wouldn't be too hot**.

The first item I put in the house was the plant.  I put her on the counter top to make sure I didn't step on her later.  Yes, I've stepped on my plants before.  No, I'm very much not proud of it.  Anyway, I put her on the counter top and went back out to get the groceries.  When I came back into the house, this is what I saw...

Is Cecil's plant spirit still in the house to warn the plants about their eventual doom?  It's the only reason I can thing of that would make a plant jump to their own demise so quickly... or at all.  Before putting the groceries away, I re-potted the plant and took her inside the house.  She has had her water for the week and is on a wide dining room table... so she can't get any funny ideas about jumping again.

So far, despite my lack of a green thumb, the plant is still alive.  I hope she stays alive.  My husband is starting to call me "the Dexter of plants".  If you haven't seen the show Dexter, you must.  I will tell you that he's a murderer... so, being the Dexter of plants is not a great thing to be.  However, he is a very nice person and the show is amazing.  Therefore, I refuse to feel insulted because he must be referring to how nice I am and that if I had a show it would be amazing for plants to be in it.  Just let me be delusional, ok?  And go watch Dexter!



*Yes, this is an attempt at a Harry Potter quote-ism.  We are huge Harry Potter fans in our family and so you must get used to this if you continue to read this blog.  Also, my son has almost all of the books completely memorized, so don't show him this at all because he will correct me as to why it is not a perfect quote.  Then I'll have to tell him it's a quote-ism and he'll tell me that's not really a word... when really he should be doing his homework and will get in trouble.  Oh the tangled webs we weave...

**Ok, yes I know that it is a plant and that she probably doesn't think of being hot or cold... or much of anything.  But what if plants do feel hot and just can't tell us?  That is why I like to assume that it feels the way I do, temperature wise.  Same for my kids, much to their dismay.  If I'm cold they must need a sweater.  It's a mom thing.  Best not to question it.