Sunday, January 30, 2011

A day of highs and lows

The man who told Hubby the Tootie Green joke came all the way from his job as Assistant to the Grand Poobah to preach at our church today.  He is a very nice man and preaches a decent sermon.  Most people look at him and see a serious, earnest pastor with the aura of faith circling round him.  I know him as Hubby's friend, capable of downing a few beers at a time and a man who likes a wicked joke now and then.

Anywho, there I was today sitting between Hubby in his clergy robes and AGP in his clergy robes and the devil got into me...just a bit.  All I could think was I must look a bit like the stuffing in an oreo.  This made me start to giggle.  Of course, once you start to giggle in church you are going to hell in a handbasket and the only way to escape is to pass the giggles onto someone else.  So I innocently leaned over to Hubby and whispered in his ear, "Tootie!"  That was it for Hubby.  Here we are singing "Shout to the Lord" and his face starts turning pink as he tried to stifle his laughter.  I almost leaned over the other way to whisper "Tootie" in the AGP's ear, but realized it was a long time ago that he had shared that joke with Hubby and might take it out of context.  God forbid he thought I was telling him I farted.  So I kept quiet.

I had been asked to sing a solo song for the offertory in honor of AGP's visit and I did.  I chose a song I wouldn't normally do, but it fit my voice and was easy to sing.  When I was done, everyone was telling me how beautiful it was, yadda, yadda, yadda.  I appreciate the compliments, but my voice is just a part of me, like hair or eyes.  It makes me uncomfortable at how overly complimentary these people get when I sing when they are just as quick to cut me down because I am not friendly enough.

But, I was having a pretty good day (even though I was at church) until after the service.  One man, trying to be nice, came up to me and said, "You really missed your calling.  Such a loss."  Now see, I hate the back-handed compliments.  It sounds like what he said was nice.  He was trying to imply he liked my singing.  But it really came out that my time was over and I had wasted my talent.  Which I don't think is true.  Heck, I teach kids how to perform 4 days a week and I sing to my two-year olds all the time.  The best compliment I ever received was a letter from a three year old that said, "I love when Muddy sings, it makes my ears happy."  That's a compliment I can sink my teeth into!  Just because you don't know my name doesn't mean I have wasted my talent.

But then another man came up to me and did the worst thing of all.  He worked for a subsidiary of Columbia records for 30 years and he pulled the "I know people" line.  I can not tell you how many rabbits I have chased down holes because a person told me he "knows" people.  He said I should have been recording and with my voice I would be famous.  He could make a call....And that's when I stopped him.  I politely told him that I used to be a professional singer and even made a cd, but I left that life a long time ago because it was not conducive to married and family life.  Because people like that aren't really trying to help me, they're trying to relive their own glory and power days.  I long ago gave up believing anyone in my world could just make a call and make me world famous.

So I was deflated as I walked out of church.  Neither man was trying to hurt  my feelings.  They were just trying to be nice.  But as I was walking out the door the AGP grabbed me and said, "I really want to get you at the Annual Gathering and have you sing."  Now that would be something.  For just a few minutes I would be famous, at least in my state.  I jokingly told him he would have to get me to the gathering first (it's not my scene) and left.  It would be nice to sing in front of a large crowd again. I just wish it didn't have to be a damn church song.  I want to sing something raunchy!  Something rock and roll.  Something where I can dress all in black leather and spike my hair.

Maybe I'll even call myself Tootie!

Friday, January 28, 2011

You get to be the judge

Hubby thinks this joke is funny.  I have heard it twice and, although I get it once he clarifies it, I don't get it.  Here it is, as told by the Assistant to the Grand Poo Bah:

A new pastor is appointed to a church.  While being introduced to the church, he has a conversation with the deacon: "I just needed to warn you about Tootie Green," says the deacon.  "She's a woman in our church who is just beautiful, but she's a vixen and can get a man in a lot of trouble, so just watch out for Tootie Green."

On his first Sunday in the pulpit, the pastor is sitting next to the deacon when a beautiful woman wearing a very short skirt comes walking down the aisle.  She sits on the very front pew, and although he tries not to look, the pastor can't help but notice that the woman isn't wearing any underwear.  Of course, he thinks this is the woman he was warned about, so he turns to the deacon and asks, "Is that Tootie Green?"  The deacon leans over and looks closely, then replies to the pastor, "No--I think it's just the lighting."

Sunday, January 16, 2011

Pride Goeth Before the Fall


If you are squeamish and choose to read this post, I cannot be held responsible for your heebie jeebies or possible vomiting.

In November I went for my annual eye check and discovered that, truthfully, my age has caught up with my eyes.  I cannot see things that are incredibly close to me.  I should have gotten bifocals, but I was too proud and not ready to admit that I needed them.  Of course, I wear contacts most of the time and was wearing them today, so I am not sure that the incident that occured today could have been prevented by anything but me being more alert.

I also woke up at 4:00 AM this morning having had nightmares after watching a scary X-File from season 2 about child possession.  Shows and movies on demonic possession scare the hell out of me (no pun intended).  But I watched it anyway.  Which led to nightmares, which led to to me being very tired today and not quite on top of my game.

It was my turn to sing today for both church services.  After my songs were done for the second service, I walked out of the sanctuary before Hubby started preaching.  E followed me out as well as another woman who had sung for both services.  We walked over to a small table in the foyer that had chairs on either side.  On the table is a fake floral arrangement with several long reeds that look like 18 inch skewers, just slightly thinner.  I bent down to put my music binder on the table not realizing the close proximity of the "reeds.'

The next thing I knew I felt this mild pain but couldn't see anything out of my left eye.  I straightened my body wondering what I had done when I noticed out of my right eye that I could see the long end of a skewer STILL ATTACHED TO MY BODY! Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the skewer had gotten poked into my left eye!

For just a moment I panicked and wondered what to do.  I know you are supposed to leave things that have punctured you in...not pull them out and risk injuring yourself more.  But I was there with E and I didn't know how she would react seeing me with a foot and a half long stick hanging out of me.  I also wasn't in a huge amount of pain.  If this thing had actually punctured the orb itself, wouldn't it have hurt more?  I reached up and pulled it out.  It took a good 3 or 4 minutes for my sight to return to that eye and there is a red scrape mark, but I really don't seem much worse for wear.  The nearest I can figure is, amazingly, the reed must have traveled in a diagonal fashion and slid between the eye and the skin of the socket and gotten caught in that lower eye pocket.  Hubby disagrees and thinks it might have actually pushed in my eye.

I don't wasn't like I was going to wait long enough to walk to a mirror and look.  Oh wait, I COULDN'T SEE!!!!  But anyway, that was my adventure for today.  Go ahead and laugh.  Eventually I did.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Like a Man-Bra, but Bigger

Okay...Hubby has pleurisy AGAIN!!  But he will be fine. 

Now...on to the subject. 

I have been exercising very hard now for 7 long months.  I have spent 8-9 hours a week at the Y doing cardio everyday and weight machines three days a week.  I had lost 10 pounds.  But the holidays hit and I gained 4 back.  Four I could handle, even forgive myself for, but last week hit and I gained the ALL THE REST BACK.  I swear, I didn't eat more or cheat on my diet.  I have even cooked from scratch all but one meal in the last two weeks.  I have decided that stress makes me pack on pounds, whatever my diet.  I have had several people make that comment here, but I don't understand how it can add pounds when I am not adding calories.  But I have to admit my stress level has been so high this week that I have almost ended up in tears several times.  And the weight just piled itself on so there's got to be something to that.

So, I have decided to redouble my efforts and make a change in my workout.  It was time for me to change the weight routine anyway, so I lowered the weights and am doing fast reps to complete muscle failure.  I'm not talking 15 or 20 reps, I'm talking 45-50 reps.  It must have worked because I am one sore puppy.  Trust me, it hurts just to type this post.  But the other thing I implemented today (and it was one of the hardest things I have done in a long time)... I started running on the treadmill.

Now first, remember, I hate sweating.  I loathe that tickling, dripping feeling of sweat running down your back.  I hate clothes sticking to me and my hair getting frizzy.  I....hate...sweat.  But I hate running more.  I hate running because I still have some chest pain from time to time after my lovely medical drama last year and I am slightly afraid of it.  When I started running today I had such a tightness in my chest that I was about to call for the defibrillator myself.  But I kept telling myself that it was just anxiety and I worked through it.

But the real reason I hate running is because I have a big old BUTT.  I have a big old butt and chunky thighs.  When I run I feel all that weight bobbing up and down.  It's like the Anti-Baywatch, where their boobs just sway back and forth when they run.  My butt lobs itself three feet in the air and anybody who dares to get in its flight pattern better be wearing full body armor.  It's embarassing and a little painful.  I feel like I need a butt-bra just to contain the thing.  But alas, that would just be biker shorts and I am definitely not putting my ass on that kind of display.

But today on the treadmill I would walk for 8 minutes and then run for 2 minutes.  I know, 2 minutes is not a a lot, but it was the most I could do at one time and I ended up doing it 4 times.  I have to start somewhere.  Maybe when my butt reaches a manageable size I will be able to run a mile, but until then, if you see me at the Y, be prepared to duck!

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Deep breath-es -es -es

My goal for 2011 was to have a drama-free year.  Knowing I cannot control those around me, I decided that I would not participate in any drama being thrown at me by other people.  I would not engage rumors, battle lies or try to be someone I am not by "being involved" in the trivial goings-on of CountryTime.  Little did I know that the potentially biggest drama of my life is about to unfold and it is coming at me from E.

I took E to the doctor today for her well-child appointment.  The doctor was 40 minutes late because he had to rush to the hospital to see one of his patients.  In fact, while he was examining E he had to leave the room to answer a call from the hospital.  He was frazzled, to say the least.  He mentioned that E was a little underweight for her height.  She is still solidly in a healthy weight zone, but he was concerned because her height and weight growth were not quite proportional.  Then I asked him to look at her eczema which has made a reappearance.  All seemed okay, until he had her stand in front of him so he could check her thyroid.

He started the exam and a worried look appeared on his face, he poked and prodded her and was just about to say something when he got called out of the room by the hospital.  When he came back in he put her in position again and said he was trying to see if he was feeling a node on her thyroid.  He eventually determined that he did and he went in to high anxiety mode.  He issued an order for a blood test to check her levels, spouting terms like Grave's Disease and endocrinologist at me.  He went to talk the the nurse since E has a tendency to pass out with needles and they discovered that the last lab drop of the day had occurred and they could not take her blood there.  He then wanted me to take her to the hospital for the blood work right then, but my insurance company treats any hospital test, even one ordered by a doctor as a hospital visit and I end up paying 100's of dollars out of pocket.  I told them I would bring her back first thing in the morning and he said okay, but it has to be done tomorrow.

So now I am scared , but trying to be nonchalant for E's sake.  I Googled this, but now I really wish I hadn't.  Oh please, blog friends, please keep us in your thoughts and prayers.  And if any of you has had a child with a harmless node on his or her thyroid, please let me know.  She needs to be okay.  I need her to be okay.