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no. 667 - Show & Tell, Minus the Gore!

Since I've been doing plenty of showing and telling, I thought I would continue the trend, just without the blood, gore and medical intervention.

I had pretty much resigned myself this winter that I wouldn't be able to get much done in regards to landscaping. While last year I planted nine trees, three shrubs, a standard and countless hostas and ornamental grasses, not to mention starting what could pass as a yard (once I've mowed down the thistles and tumbleweeds), this spring I had hoped to steer clear of the nursery (plant nursery).

I haven't been successful.

Several weeks ago, I thought I would check with the nursery to see if they could score me a flat of 4" ornamental grasses - like last year. No such luck. However, while I was there I spotted a weeping crab tree. One just like what we had planted at the other house that my husband actually fell in love with (until he had to mow around it's scalp-scraping branches), so I bought it.

Then it was revealed that the cold, wet winter and chilly spring was actually the perfect weather for crab trees in this area. Blooms of snow white to scarlet were everywhere and their fragrance filled the air, regardless of where you were in town. One of the most beautiful was a deep pink-blooming variety so I thought I'd go to the nursery just to find out its name so I could get it next year.

Mother Nature had something else planned for me. The nursery had several in stock. All in perfect bloom. It must have been a day for serendipity as another shopper, not finding anything to take home with her (was she nuts?!), gave me a couple of 20%-Off coupons. Without as much as a second thought, I purchased three of the crab trees I originally planned to purchase next year.

There's a bit of irony surrounding the fact that I can without hesitation buy several trees that I have no idea how or when they will get planted, but can still walk by the baby section of any store and not even slow down. Maybe because I get a guarantee with the trees?

(The white blooming crab is a Weeping Red Jade Crab and the other three are Prairie Fire Crab trees. My husband actually got the three Prairies planted already! Yeah, him!)

This post was brought to you by the inspirational Stirrup Queen's Sunday's Show & Tell. Go check out the other entries on this extended weekend for U.S. residents (we "Yanks" can turn anything into a "holiday", don't you know?).

no. 662 - I Wouldn't Call It a Foot Fetish

A friend and I were discussing pedicures the other day and it reminded me of my Foa Pa post from last year, which I should offer the disclaimer that the spelling of Faux Pas was indeed intentional. Part of the joke, as it were.

I personally don't care for pedicures. Something about having a stranger touch and massage my feet gives me the willies. Maybe it's because I feel a little guilty that someone might associate my visits with hairy toes and sandpaper heels.

I am still able to give some rudimentary attention to my feet, but I shamefully admit, it's getting a little harder. My french pedicure looks like someone with with hand tremors painted my toe nails - while blindfolded. But from five feet away, they look acceptable. I've even managed to "buff" away the winter foot, although I do miss being able to scratch my leg by just running my heel up against the offending itch in the middle of the night. So what if I snagged the sheets occasionally?

During the conversation with my friend, we discussed the pedegg. Basically a battery operated cheese grater/citrus zester. What else could explain the contents that are supposedly emptied because I can't and won't imagine it to be sloughed, foot skin? Watch the promotional video on their website to get the whole affect.

This led me to wonder if it would be considered rude for me to keep a purse full of inexpensive buffers to hand out as needed to the people who haven't realized yet that when they are wearing sandals/flip flops/mules that WE CAN SEE THEIR NASTY FEET! I think if I kept low-key they might not be offended - much like the gum commercial that pimps that industrial sized container of breath fresheners for the friendly, halitosis challenged office-mate.

It's not that I'm being judgmental (OK, I'm being TOTALLY judgmental), but please, if you are living in the northern hemisphere, and therefore experiencing spring- and summer-like weather. check your feet. Now that I have mine in a semi-presentable state, I'll schedule  an actual pedicure. Much like cleaning the house before the cleaning lady comes over.

no. 660 - When Is A Finger Like a Tube of Toothpaste?

or...

When does a squashed finger require stitches?

To keep the fingernail from shooting out like Wolverine's adamantium claws.

Mr. DD was setting up an expandable ladder at work. He thought he had one pin set while working the other side, but it wasn't. While he was able to whip his hands out of the way as the weight of one side slammed into the other, the longest digit was millimeters too long. The results? The prior post.

Last night, when I helped him change the dressing, I asked why the stitches since he didn't technically tear the skin. The ER doc told him he was setting the stitches as if he was grafting the nail bed back into the tissue.

Imagine a tube of toothpaste with the lid on. Now run over the toothpaste with your car. What do you think happens to the paste? It's going to come out at the point of least resistance.

Well that's what happened to the fingernail. It was literally squeezed out of his finger. Gross, huh?

He was worried I was going to not being able to handle the dressing change when in fact I found it quite fascinating. Sure it was ugly and all, but to have your fingernail squeezed out? When will I ever get to see that again?!

He's on some pain meds (which he doesn't want to take because of course it doesn't feel too bad - right now but that SOB will be aching by the middle of the day) and antibiotic. He'll see an orthopod next week to see if the nail can really be saved and then sometime later, the stitches will be removed.

For now, he's doing OK. Angry with himself for letting it happen as well as a little grumpy because wiping his ass is a tad difficult. I'll help with the dressing change, but he's on his own there.

no. 659 - Someone Has a Boo-Boo

My husband has had little one-on-one interaction with anyone in the medical field. In other words, it takes something serious to get him to see a doctor (we'll just exclude our RE for demonstrative purposes at this time).

His most recent visit to the emergency room was due to a kidney stone. Of course, it wasn't until he was literally crawling on the floor in pain to convince him it wasn't just constipation.

Prior to that, I think it was the iron vs. knee battle. Good times, that was.

And before even that? I think it was back when XBoy was a baby. You know, five, six years ago? And that was when he accidentally tried to drill a hole in his thumb.

Overall, I think he's done fairly well in keeping himself safe, considering the kind of work he does and the number of tools he uses daily that require electricity. And actually, I shouldn't even count the kidney stone since that was basically out of his control.

As you may have guessed by now, I wouldn't be reminding you of these events if it wasn't for the fact that Mr. DD called me to let me know he was on the way to the emergency room. A smashed fingernail, he said. Knowing him, it couldn't possibly be as simple as a smashed fingernail, now could it?

You be the judge:

Pretty, no?

So I of course replied to this camera phone message with a few sympathetic and encouraging words (HAHAHAhahahahah!!!!), to which my sweet husband then responded with this image:

Actually, this is missing the note that he sent with the picture:

"I'm flipping you off."

Is that love or what?!

It would seem that the doctor believes he will lose the nail, root and all. Luckily, both of our sense of humors (or should that read: senses of humor?) are still intact.

no. 658 - Here's Perspective: It Could Be Your SIL Rating This Stuff

I have been pouring over some websites lately that have a tendency to make my palms quite sweaty. Sites that sell (shhhh, don't tell anyone) baby things.

*shudder*

I just don't remember feeling quite as overwhelmed with all the choices in front of me when we were expecting XBoy. I am also grateful to have had gone through this already so I can know that certain items are completely useless and annoying: a bottle warmer for the car; any item of clothing that snaps up the back (Thanks, Suzanne, for reminding me!); and ginormous diaper bags, to name a few.

Even more mind-boggling than the sheer volume of stuff I need to get - which is basically still everything - are the ratings some people give items.

Now while I'm pretty much a practical kind of gal (a stroller just needs to stroll - it need not be able to morph into a nanny/transformer), I still want to make sure that I'm getting the best bang for my buck. As such, I've always maintained an account with Consumer Reports. I started there for my most basic necessitates: a car seat, a stroller, and a nursery pack-n-play.

From there I cross-referenced to the site, Babies-R-A Life Sucking Force, and instead of making my life just a tad easier, BRALSF lets any village idiot rate products.

Bottle Warmers: "This product gets the milk too hot and scalded the baby's mouth. Rating: 1 Star." Um, yeah. One can overheat milk under running tap-water. Test it first, Stoopid, and not by seeing if your baby screams when you squeeze a few drops on her.

Pack-N-Plays: "I couldn't figure out how to get it together, so I returned it for a different brand. Rating: 1 Star." Seriously? A crappy rating because someone couldn't comprehend the instructions? That's fair. I'll hazard a guess that the rater is the same kind of person who will throw down their candy bar in a petulant fit because they didn't see the "tear here" note on the corner of the wrapper.

Pacifiers: "My three-year old was able to fit this pacifier into his mouth and started choking. This is not a good product if your child has teeth and you need to make sure that it hasn't started coming apart. Rating: 1 Star." Do I really need to add any commentary to that one? OK, I'll add this: no, DUH!!

So this is why at first I couldn't understand why there was such a discrepancy between BRALSF and Consumer Reports. I've realized that all kinds of emotions come into play at BRALSF depending on how much the customer thinks s/he overpaid or if it was a gift; or whether it takes a GED to put something together or if it comes pre-assembled.

Needless to say, it's been frustrating to pick out even a handful of things I would like to get, preferably before Murdock gets here in HOLY SHIT! eight to nine more weeks. Still, I'm not opposed to Murdock sleeping in a laundry basket, using maxi-pads and duct tape for diapers, and milking the neighbor's goat if I can't pull together enough patience for this shopping B.S.

no. 656 - The Good Old Days

Do you know what the one-finger wave is? If you grew up in a rural area, you probably do, it's just that in modern times it not only has taken on a new meaning, but has been updated to a different finger.

When I was a kid, on any given day when we were out for a drive, almost every car we met on the highway acknowledged our presence with a simple lift of the index finger from the steering wheel, and always it was returned by my Mom (or Dad depending on the who was the driver). It must have made both of them nuts when we would ask each time, "Who was that?" It was rare that they ever knew. It was considered common road courtesy of the times.

I also remember the warning flash of headlights an oncoming car would give us to indicate a patrol car was up ahead. It always meant to slow down (especially appreciated if you were hauling ass with your six other friends to a neighboring town for a football game in your prized "land yacht").

And if there ever was a car pulled over on the side of a road with their flashers on, minus the patrol car, there would always be a handful of other cars stopped to offer assistance. Even I have had the privilege of watching a couple of gentleman change my tire while I stood out of their way, chatting with the wives, twenty years ago.

Our overall recognition of each other as fellow human beings isn't just limited to the bubbled lives of our cars, either. This weekend as XBoy raced ahead of us to the church entry, I watched as a woman entered the doors and even though she saw my son just reaching for the door, she let it go. If I hadn't lunged for the heavy door, his fingers would have been smashed.

We avert our eyes walking in the mall, or down the streets, so we don't have to smile or say good morning to strangers.

When did our society become so . . .  anti-social?

I'm just as guilty as the next person, too, if not more so. I'm reminded of that when I'm pleasantly caught off-guard when a teen-ager holds the door for me instead of peeling off with his/her friends. We try to raise our kids to be polite and remember their manners, but it would seem that it's the adults, who after so many thankless deeds and feeling invisible, that forget how effective an acknowledgment of being, is. When did "please", "thank you", and especially "you're welcome" and "hello" get to be archaic?

Maybe we can practice waving with one finger (the first one); make eye-contact and smile at a stranger; or add "please" to our coffee order at the drive through.

If it feels awkward, it means we aren't doing it enough.

no. 648 - Hey, Hey! More Nail-Biting (not) Updates!

I went ahead and took the bull by the horns and scheduled my "three" hour fasting for Friday. Why they call it "three hour" is beyond me since it actually starts at midnight. I'm in bed by 9:00. Should I really try to get up before midnight, eat something, and then try to get back to sleep and hope I don't urp it up? Oh, the dilemma!

I'm going to see if I can bring my laptop while I'm between blood lettings to do some blogging or twittering or both. Should be exciting, no?

Also had a good chat with Mr. DD. He knows that he's been a ghost for both myself and XBoy. He confirmed that since his father is now displaying his old "charm" that it shouldn't be too much longer before they discharge him. As for time with us, he had decided to take a week off before the baby's due date to spend it with XBoy taking him to the zoo, parks, and whatnot. Then he plans on taking another week off after Murdock makes an appearance to be at home.

I didn't even have to cry or beg or make a crazy-ass fool of myself since he had already thought this out. It doesn't necessarily solve our more immediate issues, but just knowing that all of it has been on his mind helps.

Just for fun, I presented the girl's name to XBoy . . . I think he actually sneered at me as he repeated the name questionably out loud. Um, I take that's a "no" on the name? Like I'm going to let him have a say? HA!

no. 645 - Not One of My Better Moments

I've been angry and resentful lately. About everything. About nothing. It's hard to explain. And as usual, I probably won't do a good job of it here, therefore you won't get it and I'll be even more resentful.

See? I'm just a ball of sunshine over here.

Mr. DD's father has been ill and hospitalized for 12 days now. Every night, Mr. DD spends the entire evening with him, and for some inexplicable reason (aside from selfishness), I resent it. Maybe some of it has to do with how little time he spent with me once XBoy was born. Even with minor complications and an extended hospital stay, he still went to work all day and come by in the evenings. I know there's nothing more he could do. It's not like his being there would make XBoy's glucose levels go up and the bilirubin levels come down. He didn't even take any time off from work once we came home. I haven't bothered asking if he will this time. But, I needed his presence.

His dad probably needs his presence right now, but I do, too.

It's not just his father's hospitalization that has somehow made me feel like a unmarried mother. Prior to this family emergency, from the time he got home from work until 11:00 at night, he would go out to his shop to work on his projects. Again, I try to understand that once the baby comes he will have little to no time to do "his" thing, but right now, I am physically incapable of doing so many of the things I wanted to get done this spring as well, including rearranging furniture for the bedrooms, and a last ditch effort to start a yard out front before the spring winds fill the house with dust.

I'm tired. I ache all over. I cry, alone. I want to feel adored. I want to be pampered. I want to go to bed at night and feel his arms around me and to wake up and find him looking at me with love...

Instead, I go to bed alone. He follows hours later. In the morning I awake alone as he's usually already up or I've moved to the other bedroom to escape the snoring.

I am angry and resentful that I cannot make the most out of not just an enviable position - pregnancy after infertility, but a last pregnancy; the one I swore I would enjoy and revel in.

no. 642 - Wrapping It Up

The pictures are scheduled Thursday evening. Each session is only 10 minutes long so I know it's not going to be an elaborate set up. I appreciate y'all weighing in either by vote or comment or both. We'll go with the majority vote and once we get the picture, I'll show you the final results.

It was also nice to hear from several of you that I haven't for a while. It's often pointed out that the best way to get comments is to bemoan the fact that you aren't getting comments. I'll try not to do it too often, potentially wearing out the pity-factor.

I guess I'm lucky that there's nothing else going on to warrant pity or empathy. Case in point: last night I realized that thinking of the time remaining on this pregnancy in a "count down" manner is more encouraging than thinking in either "three more months" or counting up to 40 weeks.

That means next week, once I make it through my 28 wk growth scan, I'll have just 11 weeks to go, max. While of course I'm feeling anticipatory, I'm also a little scared.

no. 641 - Opinions and Validation

The church is taking pictures for the Directory (of Ridicule). Which combination of clothing do you like best?

(if any one is still out there...hello? any one?)

Option #1

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Option #2

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Option #3

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Here's the poll:

I thought about creating another poll to see if I'm really that boring, but my ego can't take it.