The Happiest Place on Earth! Part 1

After not having a real fly somewhere, stay at a hotel and go sightseeing vacation in 7 years (Mall of America for my sister's 50th! And yes, we went to the SPAM museum and it was awesome! lol) I decided I wanted, no needed, to go somewhere. I knew my BFF Barb was hoping to take her youngest boy to Disney before he was too old to appreciate it so I suggested to her that we go. She jumped right on board and soon the trip included me, Barb, her daughter Cassidy and her fiance Phil, her son Brian and his girlfriend Melissa and Barbs' youngest, Brody. Seven of us were off the the Happiest Place on Earth - Disney World Florida!

I jumped into the planning with gusto. How hard could it be, right? Airfare, hotel, rental car, bing bang boom. Yeah... not so much. Booking a Disney vacation is like giving a 16 year old an old paper map and having them use it to get somewhere. Talk about confusing! We wanted to stay at the Animal Kingdom Resort but the prices I saw were astronomical. Upwards of $300 a night. We needed 2 rooms for five nights. That's $3000 just for the hotel (Right? Math is NOT my strong suit, but even if I'm wrong, it's still expensive!) The flights seem to be running about $250 per person out of Boston/Manchester NH area - $500 for me because I need two seats. And then the rental car... it needed to be big enough for 7 people AND my scooter. We're suddenly in 18 wheeler territory! THEN... we had to figure in park passes and food. This is where I gave up because we were looking at a vacation that was going to cost about $12000!!! It was time to call in the professionals. Hello, AAA?

So Barb came up and we went to the AAA office and told the agent, Eliza, what we wanted. Hotel, Flight, Rental car, park passes etc... Her first suggestion was that if we were staying "on property" and not planning to go anywhere other than different Disney parks, we should scrap the rental car. I have NEVER been on a vacation without having a vehicle at my disposal and the thought of this made me nervous. What if there was an emergency? What if I needed a midnight run to CVS for peanut butter M&Ms? I gulped and agreed - no rental car. Instead we would sign up for Disney's Magical Express. Yup... uh huh... it was Magical alright... more to come on THAT!

Next, we had to forget about the cool rooms at the animal place where giraffes come right up to your balcony. It just wasn't in our price range. We had to face the fact that we were not Animal Kingdom people... we were Little Mermaid people - over in the low rent district. We finally settled on two rooms in one of the lesser resorts, a 3 day park hopper pass and the quick meal service plan. Eliza told me that I should book the airfare myself since I can get the same "deals" she can get and AAA charges an extra $50 fee for booking airfare - why?, I don't know. Seems to me if you're a member, which I am, and you're using them to plan a vacation, they should be able to do that, right? But ok, whatever. We put down a small deposit and off we went with whatever brochures she could give us. Of course, as soon as we got back to my house, we jumped online to look at what we just agreed to!

Everything was fine but I was having a hard time with the welfare resort we were booked in. I was looking forward to a nice relaxing vacation and I just wasn't getting that type of vibe from the "Cars" building or the "Little Mermaid" place. They seemed to be just concrete buildings with brightly painted characters  all over them. The rooms opened to the outside concrete courtyards with concrete play areas. It just wasn't speaking to me. Of course, you may be wondering why in the world I was going to Disney if I was looking for a "relaxing" vacation, right? The only answer I have is that I'm my own worst enemy! Anyway, I finally decided I would spend a little more and upgrade to what they call a "Moderate Resort". We ended up at the Port Orleans French Quarter and if I do say so myself, what a smarty pants I was on that! More to come about the resort itself but I don't want to skip ahead!

If you've ever traveled anywhere with me, you know there is always some type of adventure or international incident and this trip was no exception. We started off the week with a doozy. 

We arrived at the airport about 2.5 hours before our 4:30pm flight. I wanted to get there a little earlier than the usual 2 hours because I had never flown with Southwest before, was on my new scooter, needed to make sure I was assured pre-boarding and that they knew we were transferring in Baltimore and I would need the scooter there too. The AAA office screwed up and only gave half our party the bright yellow luggage stickers that signified "Disney Express", so they (AAA) told us we would have to check in and tell the agent and they would put stickers on the luggage.

So the seven of us descend upon the Southwest ticket counter, bags, carry-ons, jackets in hand. The reservations were under my name so I was the mouthpiece. I was also the problem. In times past, when booking an extra seat for myself, I put that seat under the name "ExtraSeat Jascowski" and the airline figured it out. I guess Southwest wants you to just... oh hell, I have no idea what I was supposed to do! So the agent had to clickety clack away on her computer trying to fix it. So we waited.... and waited... and... you know... waited. Finally, after calling in reinforcements, she gets it all straightened out and we check our luggage through.

We were headed up to the security area when I ask who was carrying my carry-on (I'm on my scooter and my purse is in my basket so I couldn't carry it myself). Everyone stops and looks at each other. NO ONE was carrying my  carry-on. OMG, we left it in the car! But Barb says no, she didn't see anything left in the car. My carry-on has my Cpap machine, my medications and most importantly, my Kindle in it! I refuse to go on vacation without my Kindle... and those other important things too. So Barb grabs my keys and runs all the way back to the Long Term Parking area to find my carry-on. Who can guess what happens next?

So the remaining six of us wait for her to come back with the bag. And we wait. And we wait. We try texting and calling her but there's no answer. By now we've figured out the worst. The bag never made it into the car and she's had to race from Manchester NH back to Methuen to find the bag. It is now about 3:00pm, an hour and a half before our flight leaves. We have to get through security and to the gate but because she was just going to the car, Barb didn't have her purse. She had no way to pay for the half hour she was parked and she doesn't have her boarding pass or her ID to get through security. I go over and talk to the Southwest people and the one lady agrees to just print up another boarding pass for her and we could leave her ID with them so she would be all set. But we can't find her ID and we assume she must have had it on her. (You KNOW what they say about assuming, right?). So we all head up to the TSA at the top of the escalator.

Luckily the lines weren't that bad and the other five people in my party went right through. But of course, I'm on my scooter and can't fit through the scanning machines. So they open the little gate and talk with me and I agree to the manual pat down. Let me tell you, if you haven't been "gettin' any" for awhile, go through an airport security check and ask for pat down. You'll need a cigarette afterwards! 

So after I got felt up by security, we make a pitstop at the ladies room. We're taking our time, la la la... and when we exit the restroom, my phone rings, it's Barb. We start to talk but suddenly some official looking woman rushes towards me and asks "Are you Michelle?". Why yes, yes I am! "We've been waiting for you" she says... "We've held up boarding the plane so you can pre-board!" And with that, I look up to see gate number whatever it was FILLED with people standing in the boarding lines... all looking right back at me. I hand the phone to Cassidy and I scoot towards the gate. A plane-full of people giving me the hairy eyeball.

Now, I'm the type of person that DESPISES (hate isn't a strong enough word) being the center of attention. It's not that I'm shy, I just like to blend in. And I do realize how ridiculous that sounds. As I type it, I hear Marisa Tomei sarcastically telling Joe Pesci (Uncle Vinny) "Yeah, you blend"... But I guess that's why I try to make as little a commotion with myself as possible - because - to quote my friend Deidra - I'm already a train wreck that people can't stop looking at.

As I pass through the hoards of angry villagers, I almost feel like giving them the beauty queen wave. That's what it felt like, that I was the only float in a fat lady parade gone wrong. But I get on the plane with Brody and I choose the comfortable front row. It never occurs to me that I am now on display for every angry passenger to once again shoot daggers at me as they pass by. I know for sure that if there's a plane crash, not one of them will help me down the blow up slide!

But wait! We forgot about Barb, right? She finally made it back to the airport, luckily didn't get stopped by any troopers while she was racing back and forth, and she's got her new boarding pass. BUT... it turns out that Cassidy DID have her ID and now she can't get through security. So Cas has to hand off the ID to a TSA agent who agrees to hand it off to the harried looking woman on the other side of the ropes. At this point, nearly everyone in the area is aware that the plane is now being held for BARB! She gets through security and they shove her shoes into her arms and tell her to run!! With seconds to spare she does her best O.J. Simpson impression (the old one - where he runs through the airport, jumping over seats and luggage, not the newer one where he kills his ex-wife and her friend) and she gets onto the plane in her stocking feet carrying her shoes and my carry-on bag! Whew, crisis averted.... for now! 

Watch for part 2 - coming soon!  And we're not even off the ground yet! LOL!

What now?

I am officially on the dole. Yep, that's right, a card carrying member of the "stay home and get paid" citizens of Massachusetts. Sigh. After 4 months of waiting, I was finally approved for full disability. The money I will get monthly, starting in October is about $750 less than what my monthly take home pay was when working and that's without taxes being considered. That's a lot of Benjamins I'm going to have to learn to live without.

When working, people always dream of not having to work. What they wouldn't do to be home and doing "x".  But you know what? It's not like that. I'm home because I'm disabled. My mobility has become bad enough that I can't continue to work on a regular basis. The pain I am in is constant. It hurts to do most everyday chores. So being home is no picnic. And if it was a picnic, I wouldn't be able to carry everything because I'm walking with a walker now. It pains me to say it, but I wish I were back at work!

So what do I do now? Well, I've created a little "business" - an Etsy store (Twistd Designs by Mishe) to sell my Zentangle Inspired Art on greeting cards and other items (soon to be revealed!)and right now I am selling clothes directly from my own closet. These two things are keeping me busy, but they are, for the most part, keeping me busy on the couch! I need to get up and move, even if I don't want to because it hurts. Moving is the only way I can KEEP moving. Maybe I need to hire someone to take me for walks like they did to Arthur on King of Queens. Oh wait- no money to do that.

I've considered swimming, but in order to do that, I need to find somewhere with an indoor pool and I need to to be able to pay for it as well. Not to mention finding someone to go with me cuz I don't want to go alone. And I need help with the scooter. I know it sounds like I have a million excuses, but they're valid excuses! Sigh.

And as for the eating... I do maintain that I ate more at work than I do here at home. But I'm still not eating well. TOday I went to the Weight Watchers site - a big step for me because I hate WW. But I thought maybe I could try it out. It says Join Free, so why not.
But the free wasn't so free after all. The sign on bonus is free only if you buy a 3 month package which will automatically renew for you every three months. Goes to show - nothing is free in America. ANd then, I was fully reminded why I hate WW - I saw a comment on one of the discussion boards that said "High Five to all you losers out there." And that's where my problem is with WW.

I used to go to WW with my Dad when I was a kid. And ever since then, I've despised WW., even though I think it sounds like they have the best/healthiest weight loss program. 
The fact they they cheer for their "losers" but use pity to try to motivate the non-losers with phrases like "There's always next week" and "you'll just have to make better choices next week", "We know you can do it" etc. So now not only am I a non-loser and don't get a high five, The additional pressure is there that I had better be "better" for next weeks weigh in.

So I'm stuck here on the couch for now, not sure what to do next. Or how to do it.
Anyway, I apologize to everyone whose tax money I'll be using.

24 HOURS

Ok, before you read this, you’re gonna wanna take a nice slow deep breath. You certainly should be sitting down and for your own safety, don’t be eating or drinking anything as you scroll. Ready?

Right now, this very second, as I type this… I have no internet. That’s right. NO INTERNET ACCESS. And not for just right now, but for the next 24 HOURS!! How!? How I ask you, in this day and age, does one go without the internet for a full day?

The trouble started when I woke up from my 2pm nap. It was about 5PM and a nice time to play some games on my Kindle Fire before I actually got out of bed, I thought. I rolled over and there she was. Lying on the bed, looking all black and sleek-y and giving me that “come hither” look.  What can I say, my Kindle Fire’s a whore.  She needs no warming up, so I just turn her on and she comes to life. I swipe right by the opening ad and go right to my favorite word game, Ruzzle. I watch as the little arrow goes round and round… and round… and round… and suddenly I’m back to the carousel where you choose what you want to do. I select Ruzzle again, thinking it’s just being sensitive, but no, it doesn’t open. Then I look to the top of the screen and there it is. The three concave lines with a red “X” through it. No internet signal!

Don’t panic, I think. It could just be the Kindle needing to be reset. So I open up the “Wireless” tab and there’s my Wi-Fi connection listed first, in range. I click connect and wait. I see “Authorizing…” come up and I’m relieved, it WAS just my whore of a Kindle playing a joke on me. But then, the dreaded “Authorization failed” comes up. And I know I’m in trouble.

I get out of bed finally and go to the room where the modem is. All the lights are on, but apparently the internet is not home. I go right for the jugular on this ‘cause I’m not messing around. I unplug everything from everything and I wait 2 full minutes. I hear the Jeopardy music in the background. I reconnect everything, making sure connections are tight, right and outtasight. One by one, the lights on the box light up. Plink! Plink! Plink! But the internet light gets skipped. It doesn’t light up. This is no good. I do it all once more but I admit to myself I have to call in reinforcements. Hello, Comcast?

It doesn’t take long at all to be connected to a real live person. However, although he says his name is “John”, I can clearly tell he’s in a call center deep in the heart of Bombay! But hey, I’m not judging, if he can get my internet back up and running, he can be in a jail cell somewhere for all I care. (Though I supposed it would not make much sense to be giving a convicted criminal my personal information, huh?). So “John” and I go through all the options, We unhook and hook back up, we remove the battery, we reset again. He sends several refresh signals. But it’s no good. The same thing happens every time. All the lights come on except the “online” light. A panic starts to come over me, first churling in my stomach, then slowly making it’s way through my bloodstream and into my heart and then my throat and I want to scream as I hear “John” telling me that the next technician opening is between the hours of 6 and 7PM tomorrow. TOMORROW!

The next thing I say is not like me at all, but we’re talking about the internet here. So I say to “John”… “Yeah, that’s not acceptable”. But really, who am I kidding? We all know that my friend “John” here has the upper hand.  As unacceptable as it might be to me, he’s just going to continue reading off his script, pausing when he needs to personalize, and he’s not going to tell me anything different.

And so here I am as hour number TWO starts to pass. I’m getting a little restless. My mind is starting to wander. It seems as though my brain can no longer function unless distracted by a constant barrage of information via the internet. This MSOffice program has no ads on the side bars. There are no scrolling news headlines under my toolbar. In fact, it’s all just black and white. Words on a screen.  I’ve clasped my hands together between writing sentences, pretending to myself that I’m cracking my knuckles, but really, I’m praying for a miracle.

I need a miracle that will suddenly get my internet connection running. Doesn’t God know that there are very important things happening around the globe and I’m completely out of the loop? What if some celebrity couple leaks news of a marriage or divorce? What if some athlete is arrested for murder (Oh Aaron, how could you?)? And what about all the cats that are doing funny, un-catlike things? And dogs doing stupid dog things? I mean, there could actually be footage playing RIGHT NOW of a kitten snuggling with a giant dog AND I’M MISSING IT!

OMG! I just realized I haven’t even thought of “social media” yet! What about all my friends posting about what they did today? How can I “Like” a picture of my friends’ grandkids playing in the pool without the internet? What if I miss out on re-posting a diatribe against animal cruelty to prove that I too, am against it? It doesn’t matter if these posts make no sense because really, are there people out there that are “for” animal cruelty and if there are, will my friends think I’m one of them because I didn’t repost? And what about… OH. MY. GOD.  How am I going to find out where Kathy and family are having dinner??? And what if she posts a pic of the meal? How can I “like”? How can I comment??  Why, God? Why did you take away my internet?????

As hour three approaches, and I read back over this, I’m hit with a fresh burst of sadness because I realize I’ve written it in present tense… but I won’t be able to post it for another 21 hours!  My life’s a living hell, I tell ya.

The 2 1/2 Hour 30 Minute Meal.

I love food. I'll try almost anything, though I'm not as adventurous as Andrew Zimmerman - no monkey brains or sauteed dog for me!  I subscribe to the Food Network magazine, Taste of Home and Rachel Ray's magazine. I watch Top Chef, Chopped and Diners Drive-ins and Dives. Yes, I love food. I'm a foodee.  What I am not is a cook.

Yes, I get all these magazines and watch all these shows, but I don't really cook. My repertoire consists mainly of American Chop Suey (aka by some as goulash), rice with canned soup or canned chili on it, nuked baked potatoes and On-Cor chicken cutlets, meatloaf and of course, my favorite weekend morning breakfast - Cocoa Pebbles! I can cook a few other things, but these are the staples, so to speak.

One of the reasons I don't cook is because I have very little room in my kitchen. I measured it and I have about 2 sq feet of counter space in a pantry that's about 4.5 sq feet. Also, my knees are shot so standing for any length of time either at the stove or to prep is difficult, so I usually do what little prepping that's needed, sitting down on a bench. Also, I HATE cleaning up after cooking. But I love food! So what's a foodee to do?

Well, this week, I decided that I was going to try a recipe from Rachel Ray's Magazine. From the 30 minute meal section - called "Pancetta wrapped chicken thighs with potatoes".  That doesn't so bad, right? Sounds pretty easy and not too many ingredients.  So I make my shopping list to pick up what I don't already have: Chicken thighs, Pancetta, Lemon, fresh rosemary, fresh garlic, white wine, and potatoes. I already had chicken stock and salt and pepper! It was decided that I would cook dinner for me and my sister on Saturday instead of our usual pizza, and we'd watch a movie. She would arrive at my place at 5PM.

So about 4PM, I decide to start getting things together, read the recipe again, get the pans out - that kind of thing. Because it's a 30 minute meal, right? So if I start a little early, it will be ready when sis gets here. 

Step one:  put the potatoes in a covered pot with water and boil. But wait - they're supposed to be peeled and sliced in 1/4" discs first. Dammit! So now I rummage through my utensil and gadget drawers - all three of them - for my potato peeler. Find it and start peeling. Then I wash the taters and start slicing them with my Martha Stewart color coded knife and cutting mat. Slice, slice, slice, cut, chop, dice... ok, all done with that. As I carry the pot to the stove, 15 minutes has passed!! What the...? I better get moving!

Step two:  Season the chicken with rosemary, garlic and lemon zest. Ummm... I guess I need to prepare those things too. I zest the lemon first, using my friend Lianne's grater thingy. Do you know how sharp those things are!? Then I strip the rosemary thingies off the stem (I learned that on TV!) and I peel three cloves of garlic from the giant bulb. I start chopping it all up and mixing it. Chop chop chop mix mix mix. I now have about a cup of this seasoning mix which is supposed to be enough for 8 chicken thighs. But at this point, I don't care, I'll stretch it if I have too.

Step three: Rub the seasoning over the chicken then wrap each thigh in 2 slices of the Pancetta. But wait Rachel, I haven't washed the chicken yet. And you HAVE TO wash the chicken, right? By this time, 45 minutes have gone by and the only thing cooking is the potatoes. And shit! They're boiling over. I move my bench and rush to the stove to take the cover off. The water has boiled over but the potatoes still need to cook until tender, but not soft. So I turn the heat completely off, knowing how far behind I am. I'll turn them on again in a little bit.

So I start washing the chicken but I have nowhere to put it. I decide to fill a big Tupperware bowl with paper towels and throw the clean chicken in there, placing the bowl on top of stuff in the utensil drawer. Space is so limited, I have to be creative! It's getting very crowded in my little area here. While washing the chicken and noticing it is now an hour and 10 minutes after I started, I realize I have more than the 8 pieces of chicken the recipe calls for. But I wash it anyway because what am I gonna do? Just put it back in the frig uncooked and unwashed? So all the poultry gets washed and I'm ready to coat each piece with seasoning and wrap them up.

Out comes thigh number one. I start to rub the rosemarygarliczestylemon mixture on the chicken but it's not really rubbing on, it's sort of rolling around with my fingers. I try again, and still, it's not "rubbing" on. I look at the bowl of thighs and then the cup of rosemarygarliczestylemon and think - what the hell. I dump all of the seasoning into the bowl and toss and turn the chicken so that it's all covered. Take that, Rachel Ray!

I open the Pancetta package and carefully peel off a slice of... wait.. I carefully lift... what the???... I cannot get up a piece of pancetta without it tearing. It's so thin that all I'm getting is a strip that curls around. The whole middle is still stuck to the piece underneath it. I glance at the clock. My sister is fashionably late because it is now almost 5:40PM. I try again and again with the pancetta but all I'm doing is pissing myself off and mangling the pancetta. After several attempts, I manage to use up all the pancetta on all the chicken but it looks like a 3 year old did it - nothing like the picture in the magazine.

Step four: Heat the oil in the pan and place chicken in, cooking til crisp on each side - about three minutes. Luckily, my sister walks in at this point because I hand her the chicken and the tongs and tell her "Here, put these in the pan. They have to crisp on each side before we add the wine and stock".

Now, my sisters chosen profession is... a cook. Granted it's institutional cooking, but still.. it's cooking, right? So she puts the chicken in the pan and turns down the heat. I watch her do this and I see the flames getting higher. Ummm...Jeannie? You wanna turn that back down so it doesn't burn? Then she gets an attitude with ME! It's not MY fault that she is a cook and has this same oven in her own kitchen and she doesn't know how to turn the heat down! So while we're arguing back and forth, of course, the clock is tick tick ticking and the chicken is doing nothing because we're playing with the heat. We finally get it where it needs to be and she starts flipping it over already because it's been more than three minutes on that side. But it's not really crispy, I say to her and she tells me to fuck off and it'll be fine.

Now I measure out the 1/2 cup of white wine and the cup of broth, managing to spill only one of them on myself. I read sis the next direction.

Step five: Once chicken is browned nicely on both sides, add the wine and broth and reduce heat to simmer til chicken is cooked through. But wait - Julia Childs over there already turned the heat down. I go look at the chicken and IMO, there isn't one thigh that is 'nicely browned" - but if I say something to her, she's gonna get pissed again. Rather than face her wrath, I just hand her the wine and stock and she pours it all over the chicken, nicely rinsing off any of the seasoning that may have been loose on top. Sigh... So now we wait for the chicken to cook. Shit! The potatoes! I turn the heat back on high to get these cooking because after the chicken is done, you're supposed to fry the disks in the pan with the sauce.

I have now been working on this meal for TWO HOURS. According to sis, the chicken is done. I give her a paper plate to put one on so I can cut it in half to see. When she hands me the plate, I laugh. It's the sorriest looking piece of chicken with pancetta pieces hanging off of it that I have ever seen. I slice into it and yes, it's cooked through. We move the chicken to my Le Creuset roasting pan and it's time to cook the potatoes. Out comes the colander and she drains the potatoes. But instead of "placing" them gently into the pan to fry them on both sides til crisped, she dumps the whole pot into the pan and starts mixing them. I tell her what we're supposed to be doing and she says this is good enough. And I figure at this point, she's right. The potatoes cook for about 5 minutes til she tells me if they cook any longer they are going to be mashed potatoes.

And finally, we're plating our dishes. If we were on Iron Chef, we'd get negative points in the plating category for sure! It is now 2.5 hours later and we're finally going to eat.

How in the WORLD this is supposed to be a 30 minute meal, I will never know. I don't think ANY of the fancypants chef's on TV could do this in 30 minutes unless.....  wait a minute.... I know... they have MINIONS!!!!!!!!!!!! 

The minions have everything ready to go for them. Their chicken is rinsed, the potatoes are peeled, their lemon is zested, the rosemary is plucked and chopped, the pancetta is probably thicker and all laid out! No wonder dear Rachel always has a smile on her face - she's got minions! And probably doesn't have a sister like mine! (God bless her! LOL).

How to give a cat medicine

The real title should be "How to Give a 5 Pound Emaciated Cat .5 ml of Liquid Medicine".

If you know me, you know I love animals. I have four cats, two of which are not my fault (thanks a lot Rick!). One of the older ones is Pieces. Yes, a strange name unless you mention his sister, Bitz. Get it? Huh? Bitz & Pieces?..  I know - corny - but it fits them.

Anyway, for a few years now, Pieces has been sickly and looks like he suffers from anorexia, but he eats like a horse and is crazy for people food. I took him to the vets last week because he just looked like such a sorry sight and he seemed to be having a lot of... well.. let's say bowel troubles.

He was diagnosed with IBS and the Vet gave me a liquid medicine to give him. I will now give step by step instructions on how to administer such medication:

STEP 1:
Approach your cat in a friendly, non-aggressive manor. Pick him up while murmuring sweet nothings into his ear, all the while petting him gently. Keep him as calm as possible. Bring him into the kitchen (assuming you are giving him his medication and food there) and set him down. Go to the refrigerator and get the medicine. Shake it well and return to the cat.

STEP 2:
Find the cat again. Realize now that Step 1 should have been to prepare the medicine first. Do that, then look for the cat in all his favorite hiding and sleeping spaces. Call him, cajole him, shake a treat box or run the can opener - this is no time to be proud, you've got to find him and give him his medicine. After looking everywhere, return to the kitchen only to find him sitting on the counter wondering where you've been.

STEP 3:
Calm the cat again. Pet him, whisper to him and "give him lovins" til his eyes are barely open and his purring is loud enough to wake the baby, if you had one.

STEP 4:
While holding the cat, gently turn him over in your arms so that you are holding him like the sweet 'lil baby that he is.  As you cradle him to your chest, slowly reach for the syringe of medication and bring it to your cats mouth.

STEP 5:
Grab the white vinegar because that blood is gonna stain. Here are some tips:  Blood Removal

STEP 6:
Repeat Steps 2 and 3.

STEP 7:
Realize your cat is no longer a sweet lil baby but has transformed into a ferociously wild 5 pound Siberian Tiger and it's time to get serious. Grab the little bastard and flip him upside down. Squish all his legs together between your chest and arm and again approach him with the syringe.

STEP 8:
Don't worry, facial scars are "in". As you dab up the blood, consider sending your cat away to the circus as a contortionist because there is no way a cat is supposed to be able to move like that.

STEP 9:
Screw steps 1 through 4. Hunt the little devil down, bring him to the kitchen counter and wrap him entirely in a towel. Let him squiggle out that cute little pink nose and aim somewhere below that with the syringe. Plunge the medicine into his general mouth-ital region and hope for the best.

STEP 10:
Release the now howling beast and have a drink cuz you're gonna need it. The medicine needs to be given twice a day.

As if I needed another hole in my head!

So, about two weeks before vacation, I broke a tooth. I wasn't too worried because it was one my dentist told me needed to be pulled. I tried to be careful, chew on the other side and "pamper" the rotten bastid until it could be pulled. That had happened already because I had been on a blood thinner and I sorta didn't want to bleed to death from a pulled tooth! A week later, the inevitable happened. I broke more of the tooth - so much that you could actually see and poke into the middle of it. And I broke it on a pecan - something healthy, right!?! (Never mind it was covered in chocolate and buried in some Ben & Jerry's ice cream!). I called the dentist and they fit me in for the Thursday before vacation started.

Yep, it had to be pulled. I really hoped we could wait til after vacation because I could just see getting a dry socket or an infection while trying to enjoy myself in "my country"! He had a hard time getting the tooth out because it was such a large molar, but he managed to yank it without having to call in re-enforcements. However, because NOTHING in my life ever seems to be simple, when the Doc looks up into the socket, he sees something odd.

Now, have you ever been to the dentist and you're sitting in the chair, mouth wide open, face immobilized from Novacaine and you see the dentist look into your mouth and make a funny, raised eyebrow face? Then he looks back to the x-ray, back to your mouth, back to the x-ray and back to your mouth again? No? Well, let me tell you, when that happens, you just know the next thing he says or does is NOT going to be good!

He reached out and held my nose closed and told me to blow out my nose. My first thought was "Umm... you're holding it closed, how can I do that"? But I try to do it and sure enough - the air I blow comes out of the tooth socket! WTF?!? Apparently, I have a hole from the sinus cavity to the socket. On x-ray it's barely there, though now that he can see it IRL, he can make it out on x-ray taken prior to the pulling. He says it's not a common occurrence, but not really rare, either. Though he's never seen a hole on the side of the root cavity like this, they're usually just at the top.

So the Doc puts some special secret Dentist stuff up there and stitches it closed. He tells me that he wants to see me Monday to check it out and make sure the hole closes over because if it doesn't, it's off to the surgeon with me. Also, he tells me I am on Sinus Precautions. No sneezing, no blowing my nose and don't use my Cpap machine til he sees me on Monday. Do you know how hard it is NOT to sneeze or blow your nose when someone tells you not to? HARD! I never realized what a nose blower I was! And no Cpap machine? I can't sleep normally without it. I've used it faithfully for about 13 years now. Oh, and one more thing... I need to be on 500mg of amoxicillin 3x a day for 10 days. This means I have to immediately stop an RA drug I take which may (or may not) effect my next lab results. He also gave me orders for "Soft Solid" foods. Nothing hard or crunchy etc.

Monday comes and after no sneezing, not ONE nose blow and avoiding my Cpap like the plague, I go back to see the dentist and surprise, the hole isn't closed over and I've got a bit of a dry socket. Dry sockets are usually very painful, but luckily, I haven't had much pain other than just a soreness. So now he's more vigorous and vigilant about it. He gives me about a gallon of novacaine and starts pulling bone and tissue out of the socket. Then he takes some bone from somewhere - I was afraid to ask - and some tissue (as in skin tissue/ oral lining) and tries to make a covering that will hopefully attach and mesh itself across the hole. Oh, and the Sinus Precautions are still in effect. What a wonderful way to start vacation, no?

On Tuesday (Happy Birthday to me), my sister and I head up north to Canada. The whole drive I spend time with my tongue going to the stitched up socket. Each time I do, the stitches seem to be coming undone. I want sooooo badly to get to a lighted magnifying mirror and some sharp implements and go to town on this sucker! But I don't. I still haven't sneezed, still haven't blown my nose and still haven't used my Cpap, which is really affecting me. I'm exhausted.

We get back from Canada on Thursday night and I have another follow up with the dentist at noon on Friday. I get there and they take me right away. I'm almost sure he's going to tell me I need to make an appointment with the surgeon. Surprisingly though, he tells me that the innermost, or outermost - depending on which way you're going! - is about 90% closed over and if we can just get that last bit closed up, we'll be good to go. Still no sneezing, blowing or Cpap. I tell him it's been NINE nights without the Cpap and it's killing me. He says give it ONE MORE night, and I agree. He puts more collagen up into the socket and sends me on my way, wanting to see me next week.

So last night, after giving him the 10th night without Cpap, I'm exhausted and need to get some real sleep. I have to go back to work on Monday and NEED to get some rest. So as I lay in bed, I get my recently neglected nasal mask, put it to my nose, make sure there's a tight seal, and turn the machine on. It's now blowing 15 cm of pressurized air into my nose in order to keep my airway open when I sleep. One breath. Two breaths. Anyone wanna guess what happens next? Yep -  I now have two breaths of air in my mouth. I expel the air, try again and realize I'm done with the Cpap until I get this damn hole fixed.

I'll call the dentist in the morning, let him know what happens and go from there. But seriously, can anything EVER be easy for me? But I guess if it was, I wouldn't have good stories to tell!

BEEP BEEP BEEP

This was written in early November but I forgot to post it!!

Beep...     Beep...     Beep...  ....  Annoying, isn't it? That's what I thought before I went to bed last night. I knew what it was - a smoke detector, but I didn't know where it was. I stood in the middle of the house, waiting for the next beep so I'd be able o locate it and hopefully take out the battery. Of course, it stopped beeping. I get into bed, get settled and ...beep. Bastard! But I was tired and I figured it would stop eventually. Guess what... it didn't.

4:15am: I hear the constant beep beep beeping of the alarm. It won't stop. Well, at least I'll be able to find it I think. I get up, four cats, thinking it's breakfast time, surround me. As soon as I step into the living room, I realize the beeping is coming from the front hall. I grab my rayovac LED flashlight that's been sitting on the couch since Hurricane Sandy threatened me last week. I head into the hall and the beeping is SO LOUD! You see, my front hall is huge. It's "open" all the way to the attic, three floors up. So the beeping is echoing, at least that's what I think.

I make my way through the hall and I find the culprit, it's stupid green eye blinking at me. The problem is, the ceilings are so high, there's no way I can reach this thing. Luckily, I have my cane with me. Steadying the flashlight in one hand and the cane in the other, I raise the cane high over my head and I can just reach the detector. I'm able to "smash" it just right to release the cover, but no matter how hard I try, I can't dislodge the battery. On the fourth try, I hear something else. Another beep beep beeping from higher up. The attic I think.

Well, now I'm a little worried. It's one thing to have one smoke detector go off because of a weak battery, but two? At the same time? A little too much of a coincidence for me. So I do the first thing any logical, rational person would do. I go to the bathroom. My thought process is that if I call 911 and they make me evacuate, I'll have to go SO bad that I'll be really uncomfortable while the house burns down, ya know? So yeah, I decided to "evacuate" on my own first.

That done, I do the next most important thing - I text my sister.  No response. Why the hell isn't SHE up at 4:45 in the morning?! Sheesh! So now I wait, debating on what to do. If I call 911 and there's nothing wrong not only will I feel stupid, but I wonder if they send you a bill? "One trip to determine batteries in detector are old = $4500". !  So I wait... beep... and wait... beep... and I think I pass out on the couch a little but then ...beepbeepbeep... and then my sister calls me back. I tell her what's going on and she asks if I want her to come over. I tell her I'd be glad if she were here but she doesn't have to come. That was the honest answer. I agree to call 911 then call her back when it's all over.

"Thisis911stateemergencythiscallisbeingrecordedwhatisyouremergency?" I explain the situation, that it may not be an emergency but I hear not one but two smoke alarms going off, though I smell no smoke (only cigarette smoke from some of the people that were in the hall/on the porch this afternoon, but I don't say that). I tell her that I'm not able to reach the alarm here or go up the stairs to look at the other one. She transfers me to my towns emergency system. "Thisis911emergencythiscallisbeingrecordedwhatisyouremergency?" And I tell this guy the same thing. So he transfers me to the town fire department. "FireDepartmentemergencythiscallisbeingrecordedwhatisyouremergency?" And for the third time I explain. The woman says they'll send an engine out.

By now it's about 5:15 and I'm exhausted, but I go back into the ...beepbeepbeep... hall, open the front door to the porch and wait for the engine. While I'm standing there waiting, I see a small car across the street - actually I hear it first. It's filled with 3 or 4 young guys, talking "shit". I can hear them "Y0-Yo-Yoing", cursing and laughing. And all I can think is, wtf are they doing up so early?.. or so late? Then I see blue flashing lights at the top of my street. And so do they. And the car that was rocking with noise 5 seconds ago is now completely still. Guilty conscience much? Ha!

So the police officer arrives first, comes up onto the porch and asks me what the problem is. Ummmm... can you not hear the ...BeepBeepBeep? You're standing right under it! Is what I think but I don't say that. Contrary to popular belief, I do sometimes have a filter! I explain what's going on and he climbs a few stairs to reach the smoke alarm. As he's doing this, I see my sisters car pull up out front. God love her. She's always there for me.

Right behind her is the ladder engine and the fire chiefs car. I can hear the boys in the car talking now but with a lot less spirit and bravado. I want to point them out to the police officer just in case they were up to no good, but I figure that might be some kind "profiling" - you know - picking on young loud boys in cars or something - so I don't say anything. But I do explain to the new arrivals about the alarms going off simultaneously and this time, I DO mention that people were smoking in the hallway the afternoon before. Just in case there's a smoldering ash somewhere.

So all the guys (no women on the early morning shift I guess!) head upstairs to the attic, or so I think. With my sister being there, I take the opportunity to retreat back into the warmth of my living room and sit my ass down on the couch, as I'm about ready to keel over from standing too long. I hear the men doing their manly thing, talking their official jargon, using their walkies to report their position to the station etc.

The original policeman comes to the house door now and says that the smoke detector in the hall and the one in the second floor apartment were both going off but it's just the batteries. You know - those stupid 9 volts whose only use as far as I know is those damned detectors. Why don't they run on double A's like everything else, anyway?... He says he can smell paint in the apartment and maybe the fumes set it off, but most likely the batteries need to be replaced. I ask him if he doesn't think it's strange that the batteries would "expire" at the same time. I know you're supposed to replace them every time it's daylight savings  but to have them both beep at the same time? Coincidence? You be the judge!

So everyone leaves and I finally have some peace and quiet. Even the guys in the car are gone. My bed is calling me so I shut the lights off and crawl under the covers to try and get a few hours sleep. I get comfortable, All the cats take their positions  and we settle in. Ahhh... bed....   BEEPBEEPBEEP!!!  WTF?!?!?!?!? THEY DIDN'T TAKE THE BATTERY OUT OF THE ALARM IN THE HALLWAY!!!??? Are you kidding me?!?! And that's my last thought as I pass out from exhaustion. When I wake up... beepbeepbeep... I text my sister and tell her and she laughs. So I take back the nice things I just said about her. I text Shelley, the woman moving in upstairs and she says she will take care of it. And she does. And now I can relax. I sit on the couch and I hear BEEPBEEPBEEP from the back hall. A concerted effort by the smoke alarms to drive me into insanity. But HA! I showed them! It's still beeping, so there!