March Madness

It's that time of year.  Before the weekend is out, we will know the 65 teams in the NCAA Men's Basketball tournament.  My team may or may not be there, but I will still watch.  Just like I watched or listened throughout the weekend.  Didn't even have a dog in the fight, but I just can't help it.  Love me some basketball.

Just couldn't wait to give you my final or 'favorite' four, in no particular order....

or maybe they are.

1)     Villanova - coached by Jay Wright.  Currently ranked number 4 with a record of 32-2.

2)     Iowa State - coached by Fred Hoiberg.  Currently ranked number 13 with a record of 25-8.

3)     Kansas - coached by Bill Self.  Currently ranked number 9 with a record of 26-8

4)     St. John's - coached by Steve Lavin.  Currently ranked number ... oh, they're not exactly ranked in the AP poll, but they received votes, with a record of 21-11.

It is my gut feeling that Kentucky won't make it to the end.  Just saying.

Those are some of my favorite teams to watch.  What's that you say?  Well, I'll be darned...  Those teams do have well-dressed and fine looking coaches.  

I love watching basketball.  Love football.  Have almost figured out soccer, don't think I could call a game yet, but I get it.  After basketball, I have to be open-minded about my sports.  I'll admit, I have a hard time watching pro baseball on tv, but I can watch it live any day of the week.  Golf, yes please.  Nascar -- I like that because I can multi-task while it is on.  Horse racing, count me in.

Don't misunderstand.  I am not an uber-fan of any of these sports, just capable of watching with a decent general comprehension of what is going on.  And I am perfectly capable of getting up in the middle of any of it and walking away.  I might need to take out the trash, do a load of laundry... who knows.  Most sports make good background noise if I need to be doing something else.

March Madness

Friday the 13th -- So What?

Stepping away from the Mission trip to the Philippines for another few days.  Only because I have had a thrilling week.

It was exciting in a number of very tiny and uneventful ways.  It all started when I figured out that my car had a heated steering wheel.  Whaaaaat?  I have had it for quite a while, and this was a moment that made me feel slightly dorky.  I am a gadget girl.  How did it get past me?

This was followed up by the fact that walking through a parking lot, I looked down and saw a quarter.  Yes, I did pick it up!  Actually the only coins I leave on the ground are upside down pennies.  Everyone knows what bad luck it is to pick those up... except I really don't believe in luck.

Which reminds me that St. Patrick's Day is next week.  Yay.  Time to worry about whether or not I have something to green to wear. 

Admission:  I go to the dentist twice a year like clockwork.  And I floss religiously.  Yep, checked in there this week, no cavities or other problems.  (high-fiving myself)  Considering I had a gum surgery last fall that knocked me on my behind, any good info on my teeth and gums is more than welcome news. 

Wow.  I am easily amused.

Friday the 13th -- So What?

Heavy Things from the Medical Mission

Warning.  This post is not warm and fuzzy.  I saw so many different things this year than I saw last year.  Our patients this year had a completely different set of challenges than last year's patients.

You know I love the surgeries.  We started on Monday, but it was Tuesday before I could find a place in the bukol (small surgeries) room.  On day one, we were missing most of our supplies that had been shipped over in November, but we did what we could.  I just have to tell you about the most unusual things I saw this trip.  

Last year, we saw so many cleft palates.  This year, I remember seeing one.  We had to ask him to come back in two weeks when there would be a plastic surgeon and better opportunity for follow up.

But this year, this year, I saw devastating cancer.  I saw it every day.  I saw it over and over.  This was undiagnosed, untreated cancer.  It can only be described as raw and unforgettable.  First, I saw it as breast cancer.  Unbelievable.  I have pictures, but they are not at all appropriate to share here.  Cancer looks like nothing I have ever seen before.  It looked permanent.  It looked incurable.  It looked painful.  There was usually swelling, puffiness, lumps, bumps, lots of different colors.  Sometimes it looked like a very serious fungal infection.  I'll never forget the look of those cancers.  Never.  Some of the other places I saw it were on faces, I saw it on feet, and I saw it on shoulders and backs.

After losing loved ones to cancer, important people in your life, it weighs on you.

I couldn't help but wonder if there was something in their environment that caused that amount of cancer.  Last year, I was unaware of any cancer cases.

We saw tons of cysts, usually sebaceous cysts.  There wasn't a part of the body that we didn't see one.  They were on the head, in people's hair; on the nose; behind an ear; on an upper cheek; on the lower cheek, near the chin; on necks; on shoulders and backs; on the chest; on the arm, elbow, hand, finger; on the abdomen; on the side of the body; on the torso; on the upper leg, hip, lower leg, knee, ankle, foot and toe.  To my knowledge, they were able to remove nearly all of them.

These people wanted these lumps and bumps (cysts) removed.  In the operating room I was in, we only had access to local anesthetic.  At times, the patients were stiffening their bodies as not to move.  They squinted their eyes hard and they pursed their lips.  No one complained.  No one whimpered.  They wanted these procedures done.  They waited in very long lines for their turn.  They were very tough, and they were always very grateful.

One other thing I wanted to share.  There was one case that I observed that defied any expectations that I thought we would see on this trip.  Since I really and truly have no medical training, I had never heard of this condition.   A child was brought in, and I think he was about 6 months old.  Maybe a year.  The first diagnosis was in the form of a question -- Ambiguous Genitalia?  Those words are pretty easy to understand if you say them slowly.  But how did they come to that conclusion?  Well, I got to see all the evidence, and it was simple to understand when you saw the inconsistency.  This child had the genitalia of both a boy and a girl.  The doctors decided to send him for genetic testing to see what chromosomes he/she carried.  We had to leave the Philippines without knowing.  Wow.

Heavy Things from the Medical Mission

Why Medical?

The medical mission group from Kansas City is so very kind to include me (a non-medical person) on their trip.  I am really interested in all things medical.  I have somewhat doctored my whole family for years.  The whole contingent helps raise funds throughout the year, so I have done that from afar.  But I am one of the few individuals that participates that has no medical training or affiliation.    I was able to get involved through my friend, Rosa, who lives in a nearby community.

I already have scrubs, (they will probably come in handy for a Halloween party sometime), so this year I sprung for a super-cool stethoscope.  --  Yes, I know how to use it.  In fact, after this mission, I know how to use several medical tools and pieces of equipment.  More on that coming up.  --  If I may say so, at least I looked the part. 

My buddy who made the name tags even put RN on mine.  Now if you don't think that got me through some closed doors...  I found that I was most interested in small surgeries.  We had 3-4 doctors doing those, and several times during those procedures, a doctor would look at me and ask for a Metzenbaum or a curved Mayo, and eventually I learned those were kinds of scissors.  Our tools were somewhat limited, so when asked for a 15 scalpel, I had to say, "Will a 10 work?  We are out of 15's."  If you have ever been on a mission trip, you know the key word is flexibility.

Here is my "boss" in the Bukol Clinic, Ma. Elena.  She let me do things I was capable of, and she kept me away from things I didn't have any business doing.  No one wanted to admit that we liked being in this room because of the air conditioner on the wall, but it made things so much more comfortable.  The conditions were not anywhere near what you would find in an operating room here at home, much less a doctor's office.  We had to invent a sterile field for the tools, due to lack of supplies.  I learned how to scrub and sterilize tools -- using what we had.  Ma. Elena prayed constantly because we didn't have access to so many things.  We all prayed.  Here, she is trying to create privacy for two patients being operated on at the same time.  Both were awake.  We only used local anesthetic here, because we did not have another anesthesiologist.  The light was not very good, and it was only on that side of the room.

By the time I left the mission trip, I was ready to perform some surgery.  Chief has this very small knot on his leg that annoys him.  It has been there a long time.  Heck, I told him if I just had some peroxide, Lidocaine, a #15 scalpel and some sutures, I could easily take care of that for him.  I even felt like with the right kind of sutures, I could make an invisible scar.  I was shot down.  He honestly thought I was kidding.

All of this is just a story that never ends....

Why Medical?

Medical Mission Trip 2015

Again this year, I went on the medical mission trip to the Philippines with a group from Kansas City.  We traveled to the province of Leyte in the Visayas, and we worked in a town called Ormoc City.  The Philippines is made up of over 7,000 islands, and although this island wasn't tiny, a ferry was required to get us there.

We worked in the Ormoc District Hospital (which means it wasn't private and took primarily those people who could not pay.)

Although the community was small, it was usually an exciting journey to the hospital each day.  I believe I told you previously that the lines painted on the road are merely a suggestion.  We rode in personal vehicles belonging to the Rotarians in the area; we took small open-air buses; we rode in tricycles (motorcycles that are modified with a third wheel and are capable of carrying 5-7 people); and the Philippine Army even delivered some of our personnel to work at the hospital.

It's okay.  We weren't afraid.  When you load one of these tricycles up with 6-7 people, they travel at a top speed of approximately 10 mph.

I do not have the final numbers about how many patients we saw and/or treated, but at night our feet sure did hurt.  Sleep came easy.  This story will continue....

Medical Mission Trip 2015

Things you don't know about Lily....

Random thoughts from Lily...

Admission of fact:  I allow him to do things like this to me.  

I can act clueless when I have to...

********

1.     I have been fingerprinted.  You could never guess why.  Not to shoot a gun.  Not because I was in jail.  Nothing to do with a federal building, or my drivers' license.

2.     I LOVE a fire in the fireplace.  Or in a fire pit.  Or in an old stove.  Heck, give me a candle.

3.     I really enjoy makeup and skin care, but I love a day or two when I can stay home and not put on a lick of anything -- other than moisturizer.  Oh, and it must smell delicious.

4.     You may already know this.  I really enjoy iced tea.  Don't put anything in it, please.  Have you heard about the germs on lemons?  Forget the spoon.  I don't do sweet tea.  I like light fruit or island flavored (very lightly) teas.

5.     I love it when I can go somewhere and drive the speed limit.  Thank you for not texting while you drive 5 m.p.h. in front of me.  Thank you for not talking on the phone and sitting at a 4 way stop with no idea that everyone is waiting on you.  No need to break any rules, just would like to get there, please.

6.     A reconciled checkbook on the first try always gets a certain prayer of thanks.  Numbers aren't really my thing, so the less snags the better.  Love it when that happens.  Always a miracle.

7.     I have a soft place in my heart for cattle dogs.  We have had at least one of each kind, and they are so sweet.  They are precious to kids, they are so eager to please -- they are awesome puppies if you ever get the chance to raise one.  Chief is an excellent dog trainer.  Our latest cattle dog, an Australian Shepherd, is so sweet and she obeys so well, we have recently let her start spending the evenings in the house.  She goes to her "place" -- two rugs, she knows which ones.  And we don't hear a peep out of her.  She just wants to be where we are.  And happily she spends nights in the garage.

8.     Flashlight fetish.  Kinda weird, but I love and collect flashlights.  Medium to small flashlights.  My family makes so much fun of me.

9.      I defend Chief when people make fun of him for taking a snack to the shower every night.   Seriously.  Who cares?  It's funny.

10.    I absolutely love my Dad's book recommendations.  And my sister's.  And my sister-in-law's.  Dad is a speed reader, so he leaves me in the dust, but I am considering a speed reading course... might actually need it.

Things you don't know about Lily....

Lily leaves....

Very soon, I am leaving.  Part medical mission trip and part vacation.  Heck, it's all vacation.  I went last year on this same mission trip.  It's with a group of physicians and nurses from Kansas City and a few miscellaneous non-medical personnel, like me.  Either they don't know I am missing the medical background, or they want me there to provide comic relief.  Last year was such a great time, meeting so many new friends and learning so many interesting things.  Did I say we were going to the Philippines?

This year, I will be posting on the blog again.  Not sure when we will have great internet, or even adequate internet.  A couple of different options will be pursued.  On Facebook, the group's page is one place I have been asked to update as often as possible.  The assumption of internet availability is loosely taken seriously.  You just never know.

Now here is our fearless leader, Lillian.  Dr. Lillian.  She rocks.  She takes care of every tiny detail.  No stone is left unturned.  She has already been in touch with us after arriving over the weekend.  There are some roads that are impassable, and our group has already been re-routed.  She is a firecracker.

 And here are a few more of the hard working crew.  I think we took a load off while we were waiting for a door to get unlocked.  Doesn't matter if you are at Walmart in the United States, or in a hospital in the Philippines, sometimes you just have to be patient and wait.

Can't wait to see everyone!  Several of our group cannot come this year.  I am disappointed about that, but I know that we will soon be reconnecting and catching up with one another.  Can't wait!

Lily leaves....

Lily Likes.....

There is a young couple that lives in Germany and is originally from our little community.  The husband serves in the military, and the wife started her own weaving business.  How many people do you know that are 24 or 25 and weave?  How many people do you know that weave?  I know one.

I bought a scarf from her, and it just arrived this week... very fast from Germany.  The uniqueness is that they are made from bamboo.  Gosh, I love bamboo.  Bamboo sheets are soft and luxurious.  I have had a bamboo ball cap that breathes like none other.  So so soft.  When I saw that her scarves were bamboo, I had the difficult task of which one I was going to try.  My middle name is allergies, and that's because I can break out in a rash with mundane clothing items, medicines, or even an accidental scratch from a tree branch.  One of the hundreds of things I am allergic to is wool.  Doesn't matter what form of wool it is, the highest quality, cashmere, lambswool -- my skin can't handle it.  Really, it's a blessing in disguise.  Limits my sweater purchases, socks, gloves and SCARVES.

I found this scarf in her Etsy shop.

It is a wheat color with white stripes.  It was so soft and cozy when I pulled it out of the package, I put it on right away.  Inside the house.  I've worn it all weekend.  Inside the house.  I really need to press it so it doesn't look like it is brand new with folds in it.  Thanks, Katey!

Lily Likes.....

Correction - There is no "New Lily"

As I read the last post I wrote, I regretted that I said that 2015 brought a "new Lily."  That is simply not true.  It's the same Lily.  It is a progressive Lily.  It is an 'improving Lily.'  It is the 'slightly intolerant' Lily.  I've been working hard... on a lot of things.  What's wrong with that?  Chief is good with it.  He is honest enough to tell me when he thinks I am wrong about something.  He tells me when my stress is affecting others.  I so appreciate that.  I swear, there is nothing better than someone who will shoot you straight, and he does it diplomatically.

I consider myself middle-aged, well okay, probably passed all the way through middle-age, but elderly, uhm, no, --  I have a lot of life left to live.  And my belief is that you are supposed to live your life to the fullest.  My life choices haven't left much to be desired.  I went to college at 17 and finished as fast as I could.  Luckily, I had two kids before my body said, "you're done."  And then I was fortunate enough to stay home with them until they went to school all day.  Even when they went to school, my work allowed me to have flexible hours.  At that time, I had two jobs.  Both flexible.

Even at the age I am, I still feel like I am much younger.  FEEL.  I didn't say "look" younger.  I always wondered what it would be like when the kids were gone.  Not only are they out of the house and out of school, they're both married, and the older pair have made us grandparents!  Life is pretty darn good.  Chief likes to work.  I mean, he really loves what he does.  Not the young retirement I was hoping for, but at least he is straight-forward enough to tell me, "no, I don't see myself ever retiring, and no, I don't see myself slowing down."  Alrighty then.  I always wondered what I would be when I grew up.  Still wondering, but I am closing in on it.  Stay tuned.

The intolerant part of Lily is the hardest to deal with...  I consider myself very good at forgiveness.  I believe you have to be a pro at it if you expect to ever get it from anyone else.  Really, the only intolerance I have is for rude treatment of others.  That, and people who lie.  Little white lies are the worst.  I'm not going deep here, those are the biggies.  I think I have to be tolerant of others whose beliefs don't line up with mine.  I need to be tolerant of the people who have recently arrived in this country and don't know the regular rules of driving a car.  I contend that I am no better than any other human being, and I should treat everyone I meet in the same way I would like to be treated.

I am lucky to have a wonderful family, and this Christmas was the first time in many, many years that we were all together.  Every single person was here.  It was terrific!  Another reminder of what is important and what is not.

Correction - There is no "New Lily"

Bub-bye Perfectionism

Because I am giving up on perfectionism, I am not going to tell you about the two hours that I have spent trying to fix the type font on my last post.  You may have to zoom in if you want to read it.  The blog has been going for quite a while.  I simply can't figure out what I am doing wrong.  Welcome to 2015, and the new Lily...

Bub-bye Perfectionism

2015 is Here!

There is a song that I can't get enough of lately.  It's not a particularly new song; it's "I Lived," by OneRepublic.  Seems like every time I get into the car, that song is playing.  It feels like it is speaking right to me.  

Hope when you take that jump
You don't fear the fall
Hope when the water rises
You build a wall

Hope when the crowd screams out
They're screaming your name
Hope if everybody runs
You choose to stay

Hope that you fall in love
And it hurts so bad
The only way you can know
Is give it all you have

And I hope that you don't suffer
But take the pain
Hope when the moment comes
You'll say...

I, I did it all
I, I did it all
I owned every second
That this world could give
I saw so many places
The things that I did
Yeah, with every broken bone
I swear I lived

Hope that you spend your days
But they all add up
And when that sun goes down
Hope you raise your cup

I wish that I could witness
All your joy and all your pain
But until my moment comes
I'll say...

I, I did it all
I, I did it all
I owned every second
That this world could give
I saw so many places
The things that I did
Yeah, with every broken bone
I swear I lived

Yeah, with every broken bone
I swear I lived
Yeah, with every broken bone
I swear I lived

I, I did it all
I, I did it all
I owned every second
That this world could give
I saw so many places
The things that I did
Yeah, with every broken bone
I swear I lived.

Over the last 10 or so years, the fact that we are mortal has been driven home to me time and time again.  I know you are tired of hearing me talk about how short life is, but I consider it every day.  There are people that I miss every single day, but I take solace in the fact that I believe they are in a perfect place "carrying on."  I'm not one of those people that thinks those in Heaven look down on us and wish they were here.  I believe that they are busy living life eternally, even though as a human being here on earth, I will never know what that means.  

The song reminds me to live life fully.  Dream big.  I'm middle-aged, and I realize I am not promised tomorrow.  As of late, my life has almost completed a 180.  I am working more than ever, and I love it -- everyday is different, and I just can't get enough.  Unrelated to work, in a couple of weeks, I will be leaving on a medical mission trip in the Philippines.  It is the second annual one for me.  I go with a group of physicians and nurses based in Kansas City, but I am not the only person from another part of the nation that joins them.  Last year I ate tons of white rice and went to Mass more times than I ever have in my life... due to the fact that I am not Catholic.  Chief will hold down the fort here.  Someday I will convince him to go.  He would be such an asset to the group.  You know, the guy who can fix anything and can easily come up with a solution to a problem that seems insolvable.

And who knows what the rest of the year will hold...?

2015 is Here!

I'm still here!

I need to thank you.  Thank you for looking for my blog.  Thank you for letting me know you miss it.  

It is just a chaotic and fun time to be Lily, and hopefully, I can get back here and post something fun.  

Cheers!

I'm still here!

Rural-ness

It's probably no secret that we live in a rural area.  When I say rural, I mean RURAL.  It is nothing to drive two hours to a larger city (still not that large) for one thing or another.  It doesn't take much more effort to drive 5-6 hours for a meeting, a class, or to see family.  We are used to it.  Sometimes when I arrive at a destination so far from home, people just can't even believe that I have traveled such a distance.  

Good grief, when you grow up doing something like driving long distances, you kind of get used to it.  In high school, we traveled hours and hours a week to sporting, band and other events.  We went to college several hours away.  When we came back, we lived almost a 30 minute drive to the country.  

So, over my lifetime, it is safe to say I have spent a lot of time in the car.  

When you have the opportunity to do a lot of driving, you learn things.  You learn patterns of other drivers.  You learn where the speed traps are.  You know the speed limits in specific places.  You know when a passing lane is coming up.  Yeah.  Maybe I get a bit cocky sometimes.  I may or may not know where the wide open, flat spaces are.  I may or may not have tried to "air it out" a little.  Here's the deal.  I am aware of my surroundings.  I feel confident that I would never put myself or anyone else in danger.  So.... both hands on the wheel, I may or may not have exceeded the speed limit by 4-5 miles per hour the other day.  Or something like that.  Who knows if my speedometer is properly calibrated?  While I was driving, I was passed by two vehicles that absolutely blew right by me.  I kept going at the same speed, and I'll be darned if I came up behind a highway patrolman (did I mention, this was in another state?), and I instinctively looked at my speed.  I was probably 300 YARDS (way far) behind him when I could tell what he was.  

Right.  So I discovered I was going about 2 miles per hour over, and this officer was going maybe 35 in the right lane of a split four lane highway.  I continued at what my vehicle said was 2 miles per hour over, used my blinker, obeyed every rule I knew, and as I am passing him, he flips on the lights, and it was not a suggestion to please check your speed.  Immediately, I pull over.  Trying to think of every rule I know, I reach for nothing, roll down my window, take off my sunglasses, and place both hands up high on the steering wheel.  Watching him approach in the rear view mirror, I have already decided, this guy is bored.  I must look really threatening because he is slowly approaching and looking all around.  He has nothing better to do than to pull over a grandmother from out of state and tell her that ever so slightly exceeding the speed limit is unacceptable.  I may or may not have had time for this.  Quite possibly, I had a doctor appointment, was somewhat irritable and in pain (dang teeth and gums), had no interest in chatting, and now I am sitting on the side of the road for going 2 (TWO!) miles an hour over the speed limit.  He told me he stopped me for speed.  I verified the 2 mph over by asking him how fast I was going.  Whatever.  I give him everything he asks for -- drivers license, insurance ... and I am thinking, "go ahead -- call that in, and see what a threat I am to society."  (My attitude definitely suffers when I am in pain.)  But the actress in me totally comes out, and my best "yes, sir" and "no, sir" are on display.  Seriously.  I can't ever remember getting a speeding ticket.  I don't think I ever have.  And I thanked him for not giving me one that day.

And here is where I circle back and tell you about how living in a rural area pertains to this.  There isn't a lot of traffic.  You may or may not have to break a big rule to get the opportunity to visit with a law enforcement officer.  The weather plays a factor.  It doesn't rain around here very often, but if it is raining, you probably won't be stopped.  If the wind is blowing 50 mph, maybe not.

But living way out west has its advantages.  We live near a local airport, and I am notorious for hearing different planes coming and going.  I run to the window or outside, and people always make fun of me.  We have the greatest sunsets.  The people are beyond the best anywhere.  It's generally pretty quiet.  It takes as long to get to the East coast as it does the West coast.  And when you travel, you can listen to an audiobook (or two) wherever you go.  Trying to keep it positive!

Rural-ness

And here's something positive...

My mouth is still mad.  But I have been able to be quiet and not do a lot of talking today,  Win for everyone!

And on a happy note, I FOUND MY PASSPORT!!!!! 

I.  FOUND.  MY.  PASSPORT!!!!!!

I

FOUND

MY 

PASSPORT !

It has been missing for about 8 months.  I kept thinking it was going to show up.  I kept thinking, "it's around here, somewhere."  I had just started to go through the motions of obtaining a replacement passport.  Luckily, I hadn't made it very far.  Makes me want to turn on some Pharrell Williams and do the "Happy" dance.

That's all I got, kids.

(I found my passport.)

And here's something positive...

Negativity ahead.....

I never would have thought I would have done it.  Sure would have never thought I would tell anyone if I did.  But it really happened.  I ate one of these with a fork and a knife.
*eyeroll*

I haven't had a big candy bar, that I can recall, in something like.... years.  It's just not something I crave.   I like them fine, but I can happily do without.  (Now a daily Coke, 

I must have.)  But today, I had to have this candy bar.  There was one in my refrigerator, and I had to have it.  At least part of it. 

I think I have mentioned before about my dental doctor visits and appliances that I have had in my life up to now.  You know, I have had braces (two kinds,) a headgear, a painful tongue trap (because I swallow backwards), I took swallowing lessons, (they didn't work - I still swallow backwards), retainers, four wisdom teeth cut out, a subepithelial gum graft on my front lowers because my gums there were receding (at the ripe old age of 17,) root canals,

 and yesterday, the mother of all procedures I've had.  

A subcutaneal acellular dermal matrix graft.  Here's the awesome part.  *sarcasm*  They use donated, medically processed, human skin tissue for the graft.  (yes, cadaver)  Once you get over that good news, you get the details about how you can't use your front teeth to bite anything for a minimum of five weeks. 

Fine, a diet.  I'm in.

The full-blown details of the appointment were not fully disclosed to me, so I had to drag out the few tidbits of information I could get.  I asked if there would be a lot of pain, "of course not."  I asked how long it would take, "about 2.5 to 3 hours."  I asked about anesthesia... "why would you need that?"  

They told me they would "do it with a local."

We weren't 5 minutes in with the anesthetic, and when they took the equivalent of a Dremel tool to my exposed roots on my top teeth.  Not comfortable.  Not a pleasant sound.  I went prepared.  I had my iPod AND my noise-cancelling headphones.  It wasn't enough.  The deadening, or the local, kept wearing off -- I kept having to point and request more.  Silly me, I thought I should feel no sharp needle pains while sutures were going in.  Apparently, that's just being a whiner.  Now that I am north of 50, I have decided I am going to whine.  I am going to complain when someone tries to pull something over on me.  I am going to stand up for myself with strangers.  Politically correct, psssssshhh.  Polite.... only if I feel like it.  I'm the boss of me.  Don't try to push me around.

Yes, it hurts.  Yes, I'm fine.  Yes, I'm a little cranky.  I always feel like when I tell someone about something like this, I hope they can learn a little something.  Like you should never agree to a dental procedure for something like an unknown amount of hours in an office where they can't give you anything for real pain.  I hope you learn like I did, that your questions, no matter if its two or twenty, are most likely going to annoy a specialist.  But suck it up and ask them anyway.  

Negativity ahead.....

Corrections

Well, I didn't tell that story right.  Just goes to show, facts can be represented correctly or incorrectly.  I represented the Tarantula story like it happened the other day.  I stand corrected.  Apparently, this was over two years ago.  I'm losing it, I guess.  The memory is still pretty vivid.

Photo courtesy  -  www.swiftinverts.com

While I'm coming clean, let's talk snakes.  Chief and I lived in the country for about 15 years.  We lived in a couple of antique houses that had been renovated, added onto, and had porches closed in to make the homes larger.  After all those updates, certain openings may have been created by chipping away at  the foundation, new cracks may have formed, a variety of different things could have happened.  Before we ever moved in, we knew there was the possibility of varmints getting inside.  

Let's just say it doesn't take a city girl, and I use that term loosely, very long at all to figure out how to get a handle on mice, spiders and snakes.  Oh, yes, the snakes.  Just walking from the house to the car, you had to look down as you walked.  I don't know how many times I almost, or actually did, step on a snake.  Yes, some were rattlesnakes, and those are the most dangerous snakes we have in our area.  I was easily spookable at first, but I suppose I have built up a tolerance.  I have reached a level of okay-ness with them all.  After all, the weirdest things can happen, and you never know when they will.

We pulled several snakes, okay something more than 60, out of the basement of that first ranch house.  With the addition of central heat and air, the foundation had to be broken through in a few places under the house to make room for the ducting.  Apparently................... snakes began to sneak down under the house, into the foundation area.  It was cool and dark there.  Great place to winter if you are a snake.  Or possibly live year round...?  

Chief knew he had seen a snake or two down there.  He sealed the door to the room that had the air conditioning and heating equipment in it.  Then there was another door that completely sealed off the stairs and whole basement from the floor level of the house.  I felt pretty secure.  Additionally, those snakes must have been helping keep the mouse population down, because I only recall a few in 15 years.  But one day he was working on the hot water heater down there, and he had a flashlight.  As he was leaving the room, he decided to point the light back up under the tiny crawl space created by the running of the "new" heat and air conditioning ducts.  When he did, he saw eyes.  Yellow eyes.  Tiny yellow eyes, and a whole lot of them.  He was pretty calm when he came upstairs and said, "Come with me downstairs, I want to show you something."  Since I had only graced the basement with my presence a few times, and it never ended well -- I said, "Okay, hang on a minute."  I went to put on sweat pants, a hoodie and shoes with socks.  There are always spider webs, crickets, something.  

Photograph by Chris Johns -- National Geographic

When he put the flashlight up to show me the snake eyes, I think I screamed.  He calmly explained to me why screaming wasn't the best idea.  I gathered my composure, and from that moment on, I was the "Flashlight Holder."

The resourceful Chief grabbed a piece of pipe, now he tells me it was about a 5 foot telescoping pole for a volleyball net.  And of course, weed-eater string.  You know, stuff everyone could have in their basement.  The Boy Scout crafted a large loop coming out one end of the pole.  So, holding the pole with one hand, pointing the loop toward the snakes, and holding the weed-eater string firmly with the other -- we gave it a try.  Remember, I am holding the flashlight.  Chief is able to keep his distance, and within seconds, we have our first snake.  He has a firm grip on the weed-eater string after pulling it back and cinching it around the snake's head and throat area.  So he pulls it away from its buddies in the den.  It's just a racer.  Nothing venomous.  Nothing to stay awake at night over.  But there is an exit from the basement straight to the outside.  Chief knew that thing wasn't going to be walked through the house through the front door.  It didn't live.  None of the 7 snakes we pulled out that first night did.  At this point, we didn't know how many more were down there.  We got all we could, and we must have scared the others back further into the darkness, because they disappeared.

Guess what?  They were back the next night.  And the next.  And the next.  This was a spring through summer project, and seriously, we lost count after we pulled out the 60th-some-odd snake.  Yes, there were some rattlesnakes.  Not many, I would say less than five.  Hopefully, you can see how I would get used to things like this.  I didn't want to accept it as normal.  You can imagine why I am sometimes offended to be called a "city girl."  My tiny hometown is not a city.  And just because I didn't grow up milking cows and driving a tractor doesn't mean I am incapable of being a decent "farm girl."  Don't pigeon-hole me.  There are a lot of things I don't like, but that doesn't mean I can't take care of them.  In the words of Kelly Clarkson, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

Corrections

My Tarantula Story

This is my tarantula story, with no pictures.  But this happened in my house in town (city limits).  Within the last year.

 

I swore I would never admit that a tarantula was inside of my house.  After all, how could that even happen?  But I feel it is time to come clean.  Honesty is always the best policy.

 

One morning this past spring, I am getting ready for the day.  My bathroom, bedroom and closet are at the far end of the house.  They are not near a door or entrance.  I look in the mirror, and behind me, on the tiffany blue wall, there is a tarantula.  It is the size of my hand.  It is about 4 feet up on the wall -- just clinging there.  I am the only one home, but I scream anyway.  I keep my eye on it, and grab my phone, while climbing up on the bathroom counter.  From eight feet away, I call Chief on the phone.  He doesn't answer.  I leave a desperate message.  I sit still on the counter.  I will not leave without one eye on this arachnid.  It feels like 30 minutes.  When he calls back, I beg of him, "I have never asked you to do this before, but I need you to come to town and deal with this tarantula in our bathroom."  He hears the fear and anxiety in my voice, and he says he is on his way.  I say, "THANK YOU!!!!!"

 

I remain on the counter, eyes glued to the tarantula on the wall.  The phone rings.  It is my friend, Mel.  I tell her I really can't talk, I am dealing with an unusual emergency.  When I tell her what is going on, she says, "a tarantula?  I love tarantulas!  Do you want me to come get it?"  I scream into the phone, "YES!"  And she is on her way.  When she arrives, she is carrying a canning jar and a flyswatter.  She strolls in, takes the flyswatter, gently encourages the tarantula into the jar like a turtle, and puts the lid on it.  I stare in awe.  I say, "what are you going to do with it?"  She says she will take it home and let it go.  
Okay, fine, bub-bye, talk to you later.

 

I have no idea how a tarantula could get into the house.  I mean, it's not like our doors stand wide open.  We don't open our windows and leave them unattended.  The best I can tell is that Chief brought in a pile of undesirable farm clothes, and this fellow was hidden amongst them.  We don't really have mice -- it's because I let those nice snakes live and inhabit my yard and neighborhood.  But there is no explanation for a tarantula sneaking into the house.  It's not like a mouse that can squeeze under a door or through a small hole.  A tarantula is large and hairy.  My guess is that they aren't very limber.  And my theory on how the tarantula got into the house is that Chief, being the considerate guy that he is, brought in a pile of clothes and boots from working cattle earlier that week, and he laid them in the garage for a few days.  If you don't know what "working cattle" is, there is a lot of stinky stuff involved.  Then he carried them into the laundry room to be washed separately from everything else.  Yes, it's that bad.

 

Then just this week, I have killed two scorpions.  Inside the house.  Throughout the past year, probably seven.
 

Call me tough.  Call me an idiot.  I am afraid varmints are everywhere.  But they are not the boss of me.  And they usually don't win.

My Tarantula Story

Time To Catch Up

I haven't felt like I could put together a complete blog post in almost 3 months, but how about I let go of trying to make it perfect and just chat?

Normally, I try not to stir up any stuff by talking politics.  It's not my thing.  I will never run for office, and I don't have the answers, so my stance is silence.  But a couple of months ago, a political person, I guess that's what you would call her, took a shot at soccer.  Whaaaaat?  Was it a slow news day or something?  I'm going to put the link to the whole article here.  

http://www.anncoulter.com/columns/2014-06-25.html

You can read it yourself and draw your own conclusions.  Clearly, she isn't soccer-savvy.  I consider it just wrong to tell people a bunch of random things that are your observations and based on nothing.

Here's the part that set me off:

--- If more "Americans" are watching soccer today, it's only because of the demographic switch effected by Teddy Kennedy's 1965 immigration law. I promise you: No American whose great-grandfather was born here is watching soccer. One can only hope that, in addition to learning English, these new Americans will drop their soccer fetish with time. ---

Wow.  She promises you.  

I watch soccer.  I watch almost all the major sports.  I watch golf.  I was born before 1965.  I had eight great-grandparents that were born here, and I WATCH and LOVE soccer.  Doubt I'm the only one.  I have Native American blood and am a card carrying tribal member, which probably means my soccer-loving heritage and relatives were here before hers were.  Puh-leez!  Learning English?  I would challenge her to any form of English language competition or flipping spelling bee.  Oh. My. Gosh.  

And lastly, "these new Americans"????    

The only reason I read the article was because it had the words 'hating soccer' in the title, and it was on a major news feed.  It was around the time of the World Cup.  I feel like some people just can't talk about anything unless it is negative.  Well, I'm not riding that train.  

I thought it was hilarious (jealousy, perhaps -- sarcasm) that she wasn't impressed with that handsome David Beckham.  You know the one who is trying to establish a MLS team in Miami?  He wants to build a ginormous stadium, (just like soccer stadiums all over the world) maybe on the waterfront, but he is flexible.  He just wants to make it happen.

We live in a nation of immigrants.  Could we possibly get along?  Could we possibly be happy for others?  Could we possibly act to improve things instead of complaining?  

So here's to being positive.  Here's to being nice.  

Here's to not wallowing in whatever you want to pout about.  

(Improper use of a preposition -- I know, CLB)  

Time To Catch Up

I. Am. Exhausted.

We lead somewhat normal lives.  Only two people live in our house.  Our days fly by, and I feel like I am going to miss out if we don't travel here and yonder before we can't.

Here are my reasons, excuses, whatever you want to call them, why I have been unable to blog for several days in a row.

1)     I am busy.

2)     I try to relax in the evenings, but if anyone of us needs clothes, as in the clean variety, things have to be done.

3)     I've been working on a Fantasy Football league for rookies.  OMGoodness.  I know a little something about football, but this is a whole new animal.

4)     Personal upkeep.  A girl needs to have her hair done from time to time.  She might need a pedicure.  She might have a doctor's appointment.  Just regular stuff.

5)     School.  You'll never believe it.  I can barely believe it.  I am taking Legal Assistant classes at one of the finest LA programs in the country.  It will take a lot of Saturdays.

This includes homework, not a minimal amount.  No need for a lot of details here.  I'm totally buying in...

 Lots of fun things going on here.  I'll clue you in as things develop.
Looking forward to a mountain retreat soon.  

Hope it's not 102 in Denver, as it has been lately.

I. Am. Exhausted.

She is Perfect

I get asked a lot about my relatively new role as "Lily," the grandparent.  I am still having a hard time putting strong and accurate enough words with my answers to all the questions.  Writing this blog, I find myself trying to make sure that I am relatable.  I am fully aware that I am not the first grandmother EVER.  Just like I wasn't the first mother EVER.  Conversely, do I love my kids more than anything?  Sure do.  Do I believe that this precious Baby O is the most darling baby girl ever born?  Dang right!  

Can I get the perfect picture of her?  Not on my life.  One of those regrets I was telling you about, that I never have my camera, requires me to use my phone.  And the fact is, I am not all that great using the camera on it.  She is not a wild or busy child.  You really don't realize she moves much until you try to take a picture.  Every picture I have is somewhat blurry.  

Or I didn't remove the slobber.  Or she blinks.  

Surely it isn't me moving while I take the picture...

She is far from a cranky baby.  But she makes funny expressions, and we would love to know what she is thinking...  This punkin is a great sleeper at the moment.  I would love to tell you how many hours she sleeps in a row at night.  Would it be polite to say that there are two digits in the number of hours she sleeps?  Or is that bragging?

Gosh, she is such a little dumplin.  I can honestly tell you that I had no idea what fun this new role would be.  We haven't been able to spend as many hours as we would like with her due to "life" -- but we are so fortunate that she lives within 20 or so minutes from our house. 

Back to being relatable.  I want to talk about how I understand how others feel about their grandchildren.  I never want to make anyone think we love ours more than they love theirs.  It's just that "we get it."  As our kids were growing up, I always tried to not brag.  Not to say I didn't, but I tried to be aware, and the goal was to be polite.  This is where I just want to quit writing, because I know I can't express what I really want to say.  I think all human beings are equal.  We are no better than the people that will never read this because they don't have access to a computer.  I never, ever want to hurt anyone's feelings.  But I do love my family, just like I hope you love yours.  

We are blessed.

She is Perfect