Archive for March, 2006

origami bunnies

Sunday Post ~ “Origami bunnies can help you feel better.” — LG Fairchild

Psalm 27
(aka “the origami bunny Psalm”)

file under: &Sunday Post


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Reunited, and it feels so good
Reunited, ’cause we understood,
There’s one perfect fit,
And sugar, this one is it
We both are so excited ’cause we’re
Reunited, hey, hey

I walked through the door this afternoon with a big smile on my face, and was greeted by an equally big smile, a warm, long embrace, and an enthusiastic, “Oh, sweetie! You’re back! It’s been way too long!”

I happily returned the hug, and added a quick kiss and replied, “I’m back! I’ve needed this so much. I’m all yours, now, baby. Just do me. Do anything. Do everything!

That’s right. I was reunited this afternoon with Sally. My hairstylist of over 20 years, whom I hadn’t seen in months. I’m an every-six-weeks kind of girl, with the hair thing. And it was way before Thanksgiving since I’ve been there. That should give you some idea of how I have only been doing the bare minimums of caring for clients and family, and less than the minimum of caring for me, during the European odyssey. I mean, that will give you some idea, if the fact that I made out with my hairstylist upon arriving and departing the salon didn’t, um, give you some idea, already.

I am still doing the stone thing. But I am returning to normal life, too, thank God. I got me a new, bouncy, flippy hairdo. When I left the salon, everyone on the street smiled at me, and I thought, “Damn! My hair looks GOOD!” And Sally is good; but upon further reflection, I think it was because I was walking down the street smiling. That hasn’t happened in a while. I’m getting me back.

I even went (whispering) SHOPPING! Just a quickie. A shirt. A jacket. A purse. A pair of shoes. All necessary, to accessorize the bouncy flippy hair. Y’all know I’ve had some trouble with shopping, here and there. But today felt really good. And I needed the lift that a new hairstyle and new shoes can give. Looking in the mirror lately, I was reminded of the Kohl’s senior discount incident. A couple of months of pain can do not-so-nice things to one’s appearance. That and not bothering with lotions, potions, makeup and the like. But I’m getting back into that stuff, too, because it’s fun, and I like it. When I’m not preoccupied with peeing rocks. I think I’ll be back to normal soon.

Normally, I think I don’t look like I’m entitled to a senior discount. I’ve actually been quite fortunate, for a former sun- worshipper, not to have a lot of wrinkles. But I do have two that I see first thing, every time I look in the mirror. Two starting to stake their claim between my eyebrows. When I first noticed them, I started trying to figure out, why them? Why there? So I made faces that would accentuate them, to try to solve the mystery. Ah, mystery solved. I know how they got the idea that they could claim that territory. Once I accepted that they are there to stay, and will probably get more noticeable as the years go by, I named them: Migraine and Orgasm. I realized that my facial expressions for those two biological realities are pretty much the same. Thankfully, I’ve had many more of the one than the other; I can’t really be upset with my face for telling part of my story. Maybe wrinkles are the face’s way of blogging.

Anyhow, all this to say, I feel not too bad. I’m thinking about fun things, girly things, happy things. I’m getting back to normal. Thank you to each of you who has been so caring during this bump in my road. I’m in the home stretch; my very good docs are on top of everything, and I am confident the worst is over.

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Sunday Post ~

“The waiting is the hardest part
Every day you see one more card
You take it on faith
You take it to the heart
The waiting is the hardest part.” — Tom Petty

Isaiah 40:29-31

I am still waiting. And my waiting, as tough as it is for me, is lightweight waiting, compared to Deb’s. Remember to keep loving her (comments 🙂 and praying for her.

file under: &Sunday Post

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OK, those of you not on drugs, is this still hilarious?:

“Do we need to shrink Dennis Quaid and send him in there to break stuff up?”

I knew it! Thank you, Bucky 🙂

I have nothing new to report. The pain, when I allow the meds to subside (which, in all honesty, ain’t happenin’ anymore) is like nothing I’ve ever experienced or imagined. I am taking huge amounts of painkillers plus something called Flo-Max. Nothing like subtlety in naming pharmaceuticals. Doc tells me it is normally used to help old men with enlarged prostates pee, in spite of their large prostates. But, he goes on to tell me, that is not why he’s giving it to me. Mmmkay. Even heavily drugged, I still know some things.

The Church of the Sunday Post may be delayed tomorrow. But we will have services, even if I have to tap one of the four people in the world who know the password to get into this blog, and have them be the substitute pastor. OK, I’m thinking of those four people. Dear Lord, I have to be better by tomorrow. There is just no telling . . .

And I remembered something I need to tell you all, left in my brain since the era of my life when I learned the Urethra Franklin joke from a couple of posts ago:

Spell “pig” backwards, then say “funny.”

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Pee-Nut Diary Entry

&*%$!!!! Even with the pain, I was doing OK because I was making progress. Now, not so much. Suddenly, this morning, a stone is stuck, um “near the exit.” A new and different kind of pain. Docs are wonderfully accessible and responsive. Best case is double the pain meds, plus take a new med that relaxes the relevant parts to allow this larger one to pass. Worst case is to the hospital for another blasting or an actual (cutting) surgery. All you pray-ers, do your thing. Please. And thank you. This is me, double-drugged. Not one damn funny thing . . .

You do the funny for me, wouldja? Be back just as soon as I can.

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This is about the sixth installment in the “Pee-Nut Diaries,” so-named because it IS all about the pee, here, and I feel very much like a nut for having started down this passageway. However, I find I’m quite incapable of writing, or even thinking about anything else, particularly today.

This was, by far, the worst day, pain-wise. I am amassing quite a collection of stones. Passed stones. There’s a Mick Jagger joke in there somewhere, but I am too drugged to find it. Yes, although I missed Bucky and Jim‘s “drunken blogging” event last week, I am making up for it with drugged blogging tonight.

The good news: The exploding of the big stone apparently worked because…

The bad news: I have passed over a dozen OVER A DOZEN kidney stones. And I’m just gettin’ warmed up!

My husband had this malady years ago. He appeared to be near death, with the pain. I showed him my stone collection today. He was speechless.

“What, is that what yours looked like?”


“How many did you have?”


“ONE? Do you feel appropriately sorry for me? Appropriately in awe of me, now?”

“You are tough. I would be dead.”

So, yea, there’s that. And there are more to come. Many, many more, I fear. See, I thought the procedure I had was to dissolve the large stone, so that it would pass with grace, with subtlety, insouciance . . . Nah, not so much. What the procedure actually did was to implant a little group of convicts in my kidney, a chain gang of criminal types, in there swinging their little pick axes and “making little ones out of big ones.” I am a (renal) penal institution! (Yes, I just gave you a grab bag of one liners. Knock yourselves out!)

It gets harder to look on the bright side, but I keep on trying. Oh, you know how I hate my freakin’ pink countertops? I’ve been wanting stone. I was ready to start shopping the granite showrooms. But why spend all that money, when, turns out, I am a walking quarry! I’ll be the only kid on the block with a kidney stone breakfast bar 🙂 Y’all wanna come over for muffins?

I’m still peeing in the strainer cup. And I know I’m a spoiled, middle class American, but I wanted more than one. I have to do this for weeks, so I wanted a cup in each bathroom that I use most often — powder room and master bath, plus one to keep at work. I don’t like walking around with my peecup in hand. My maiden peecup is quite stylish. It is collapsible — it accordians to full cup size, but squishes to almost flat when not in use. And it has a matching stone box with lid 🙂 The Eurologist gave it to me. So I go to the pharmacy yesterday to try to buy another one or two or three. Struck out completely at the first drugstore. The second drugstore, the one pharmacist tells me they don’t carry such things. But another pharmacist beckons me surreptitiously to the side, you know, with the head and eye movement that says, “Pssst! Over here, honey . . . “

So I go over and she says to me, conspiratorially, “Keep this on the down low, but I can tell you how we do it in the ghetto…”

How we do it in the ghetto? Goodlord, I was intrigued . . .

“We pee in a cup, and then we pour it through a kitchen strainer . . . “

*blink* *blink*

“Uhhh . . . OK. Yea, I can do that. Thank you.” I’m going to call the Eurologist and see if I can trade a STONES t-shirt for another peecup or two. Three.

I blove you crazy kids. Thanks for checking on me. Some day I’ll stop being all pee-brained, but I can’t say just when that will be 😦

Hey! What’s pink and sings? Urethra Franklin!

OK, now I need me some Aretha:

Rock steady baby!
That’s what I feel now
Let’s call this song exactly what it is

Step n’ move your hips
With a feelin’ from side to side
Sit yourself down in your car
And take a ride

And while you’re movin’
Rock steady
Rock steady baby
Let’s call this song exactly what it is
(What it is -what it is – what it is)

It’s a funky and low down feelin’
(What it is)
In my hips from left to right
(What it is)
What it is
Is I might be doin’
(What it is)
This funky dance all night
(Let me hear ya gotta feelin’ in the air)
(Gotta a feelin’ an ain’t got a care)
(What fun to take this ride
Rock steady will only slide)

Rock steady…….. rock steady baby
Rock steady…….. rock steady baby

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IP Rocks!

No, I am not extolling the virtues of Internet Protocol. I am giving you an update. I am telling you about my new hobby, as of this evening: I P rocks. Little ones. Into a strainer. That is my first new hobby. My second new hobby is taking Percocet. Guess which hobby I like better?

They tell me all went well. They also tell me — and I didn’t expect this — that I may P rocks for up to three weeks! But it could also be for just a couple of days. Guess which prognosis I like better?

Thank you for checking in. It does mean a lot to me. I am in pretty serious pain, after the initial anesthesia wore off. It does feel like I’ve been punched in the kidney. At least, it feels like I imagine that would feel. I think tomorrow will be better.

I also want you to know (I am telling the truth here!) that the first words out of my mouth as I was waking up from the anesthesia were, “Circus Kelli is out front selling kidney stone t-shirts with tongues,” followed by giggling. I should be thankful they didn’t ship me directly to the nut hut at that point.

Thanks, you all. Blove you 🙂

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Today will be the final European performance of the (infectious kidney) Stones, before they are “blown up.” I’m off this morning to the surgi-center to get some of my parts pulverized. Good times.

The brilliant entrepreneur, Circus Kelli, has designed t-shirts (above) to commemorate the occasion. She has obtained a vendor’s permit and will be hawking the shirts outside the hospital during the procedure.

I won’t be having much fun, but I certainly don’t want that to stop y’all. So, if there’s anything you’d like to sell, or any performance art that you’d like to perform, or whatever, please state your intentions here in the comments, and you, too, will be granted a permit to do what you do. As long as it is a tasteful proposal — you know, as tasteful as a depiction of a kidney stone with a tongue coming out of it :p

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Sunday Post ~ “It is one of the most beautiful compensations of life, that no man can sincerely try to help another without helping himself.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson

Hebrews 13:1-3

file under: &Sunday Post

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The List

A long, long time ago, Kristine, the Princess of Blogworld, posted a list that her then boyfriend, soon-to-be husband and Prince, Shaun, wrote for her. It was a list of 40 things he loves about her. This list caused quite a stir in blogworld. There was much whining and arguing among those who have no such list. I don’t whine much in real life, probably only because I’ve never found it very effective around here. I did whine in someone’s comments, though, and in blogworld, comment-whining actually can be effective. I got me a list! It wasn’t from my husband, it was from kalki, but still, it was very nice, and I’ve kept it 🙂

More recently, Kristine and Shaun decided to stir things up again, when the Princess posted a list of 40 things she loves about Shaun. Then I started thinking, cheez whiz, Jif probably wouldn’t even READ a list of 40 things I love about him. But it was pretty easy for me to think of 40 things. Tomorrow is our 23rd wedding anniversary. So as one of my gifts to him, I decided to extend mercy and not force him to read 40 things. I will however, force him to read these

23 Things I Love About You, Jif:

1. You know how to tell the right lies. For instance, when someone clearly doesn’t like me, you say, “It’s only because she doesn’t know you.”

2. You clean projectile puke off LG’s wall, and don’t even wake me up, only tell me about it when it’s all over.

3. You’re a very fine griller.

4. You can’t fight with me, because I can make you laugh.
Yes, I can.
Yes, I can.

5. Laundry. You do it.

6. Dishes. You do them.

7. You make me proud. People trust you, with pretty much everything. People count on you. Because they can.

8. Massage. Good at at. (*Ahem*, slyly embedded in certain parts of this list, and I’m not saying which parts, but in some parts, there might be HINTS as to something that might be a GOOD IDEA…)

9. Unlike me, you can do 4th grade GT math.

10. I like the sound of your snoring. (Yes, you do.)

11. You sleep like a petrified log, except that, the faintest mumble of that one little word has you instantly awake and heading down the hall: “Daddy.” You sleep through alarms, hurricanes, dog assaults, but not through “Daddy.”

12. You indulge my extreme blogging habit. You actually “get” how blogfriends are real friends, and you ask how they’re doing. Or what the hell they’re doing. Something like that.

13. Every night when I come to bed, even if it’s long after you, even if I wake you up to do it, you do it. I wake you up and say, “Tell me a good thing.” And you do. You tell me something nice about me, or about us, or about what we did that day or what we’ll do tomorrow. That’s the best.

Apparently, I’m not the only one who needs that. Someone even wrote a book about it.

14. And this is one of the reasons I knew I would marry you. You told me that you actually LIKE having cold feet put against your warm legs in bed. You told me that many years ago, and I have never been foolish enough to ask if it is still true. I certainly behave as though it is, though, and try to keep you very happy in that way 🙂

15. You are a rock. This means a lot of different things to me. I have loved rocks my whole life. I keep them.

16. You tell me I can write.

17. When I get in way over my head, when I create for myself a real “What was I thinking?” crisis, I just say to you, “Tell me.” And you know what to do. You tell me that I can do it, that it will be OK, that I’ve been in worse situations and pulled it off before. And then I always make it happen. We always make it happen.

18. You do crazy-ass things like this:

We’re putting groceries away — groceries that you bought . . .

S: Oh, this is a new kind of barbecue sauce . . .
J: Yea, I thought we’d give it a try . . .
S: Did someone recommend it . . .
J: No, but look at that guy on the label. I said, “Now, there’s a man that knows something about some barbecue . . . “
S: (silently) WTF?

“LADIES and GENTLEMEN, I’M a COOK,” says Mr. Stubb.

19. You really are my home. I am safe and warm where you are. I’d live in a tent with you.

20. The way you misbehave in restaurants with LG. I scold the two of you, because I’m the mama, I have to. But I love that you two enjoy each other so much.

21. Family. They don’t get to you. Mine, yours . . . you love them, forgive them and perpetually give them a break.

22. You pray for me.

23. Every “next” thing I have thought of in making this list is something, the likes of which is not usually posted on this normally PG-13 blog. How to say this and not lose my PG-13 rating . . . it has been very difficult to list the things I love about you and not get an NC-17. And I love that about you, about us 😉

Happy anniversary, Jif.

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