Results tagged "House"

Since this post is entirely about and for ME, I have taken the initiative to BOLD the important aspects. That way you can speed read, grasp the skinny and shimmy on out… At least that’s how I’d do it.

It amazes me.
I was amazed, and still — I remain as such.

The speed at which things can get totally blown out of proportion. Uncontrollable speed. With flames shooting out of the sides of things… Like people’s heads. Or when a seemingly important but not critical, situation is looked at from another perspective, and all hell breaks loose. Kind of like Trump for President, or… entering my house with a freshly baked batch of butter filled chocolate chip cookies…. That you expect me to share…  And while I am torn about whether or not to share this very personal experience with the internet, I’m just sitting here — not lifting a finger… Because that’s what I was told to do. Absolutely nothing.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to not do anything? Especially typing with my tongue — not very effective. So far, I haven’t done anything since last Wednesday around 11am. That was when I pulled my car into the Southampton Hospital Valet and threw my keys at the poor unsuspecting parking lot attendant. If only I had taken a second to acknowledge his smile… knelt down, perhaps, to smell the lovely flowers along the pathway to PATIENT ADMITTANCE. Which, I know, sounds more like some screwball confessional than anything else — but it is accurate in terms of signing yourself up for the unknown… patiently (of course).

But there I was. I had a strange pain in my right side — and being 34 weeks pregnant (give or take) my doctor didn’t hesitate to send me off to the hospital for monitoring. It would have all worked itself out eventually, had I found the ability to control my nerves, but no. No — instead I complained when the pain increased. I squirmed. And worse — I cried when the “call nurse” button on the thingamajig didn’t work and my cell phone had no service. I was, in effect, an infant — by all standard definitions… And yet, they insisted that I stay. They insisted there was something serious going on.. They introduced me to a surgeon who LOVES to cut people open. LOVES IT. He loves it so much, in fact — that he was ready to dive right in without one of those silly CAT Scans to prove that I needed my Appendix out. Medical Technology — WHO NEEDS IT?!? But no. As he went off to sharpen his knife collection, another doctor agreed to a second opinion and had me transferred to another hospital where they stand firm behind JUST THE FACTS MAN. A theory that sometimes gets lost out here in the Hamptons… you know — facts being so REAL and all.

But it WAS REAL.
AND — it was REALLY HAPPENING.
As I laid there, bouncing around in the ambulance being transferred to Stonybrook University Hospital — where ALL of the surgeons and doctors are between the ages of 18 and 25… AND where I finally found solace in the almost apologetic confirmation that NO. I did not need surgery…. AND, with the crowned jewel on top — The baby is ABSOLUTELY FINE.

But still, they wouldn’t let me leave. Because — the pain was still there and according to every 18-25 year old medical professional, House M.D. is the end all of medical mysteries… as in — there is NO SUCH THING. I actually had one late night doctor, who seemed to fancy my humor, tell me that he wasn’t letting me leave until he had this ENIGMA figured out. The enigma, of course, being me — wrapped up in a riddle, fashioned as a bleach smelling gurney. I would have laughed him right out of triage, but by then they had me all tickled pink with morphine. Those sneaky bastards. I guess I should have thanked The FOX Network for giving us this new breed of NEVER SAY NEVER die-hard docs due to HOUSE, but instead I sought my immediate exit.

And so, here I am, home since Thursday evening and starting an official countdown. My due date is in May… bets are being placed that I don’t make it through this week, although I’m not so sure about that. I am still feeling the weirdness on my right side, but with every test known to man telling me that nothing is wrong, I’m just wading around in the shallow end. I am going in for nonstop follow-ups and doctor appointments… none of which involve House OR surgeons that love surgery… And as I mentioned earlier, I have been cut-off on doing anything that involves, well, anything until we see the end of this. “This” being something that we have been looking forward to for a very looooong nine months… Excited is an understatement, as I sit here jumping on the inside. Until then, my posts will become somewhat less and less — although I will be in touch with the final outcome, of course.

AND — whew, enough already, right!
Fam and Friends — Thank you for your comfort… you have no idea.
Mr. Sal — That chair looked damn uncomfortable and yet you managed to stay in it. There are no words…

TUMULT: /ˈt(y)o͞oˌməlt/Noun
1. A loud, confused noise, esp. one caused by a large mass of people.
2. Confusion or disorder.

Useful Phrase: The tumult of daily life.

Household Clutter. Really Annoyed 3 year old. Weather Weather Weather. People Talking about the Weather. Road Trip Planning around the Weather. Me complaining about the Weather. Reading 2 Books at Once. Egypt. Jobless. Big Love. Modern Family. Really Pregnant. Social Media Blues. Ciao Bella Gelato Mint Leaf Chocolate Chip. Not Leaving the House. Egg-free Popovers. New Dalí Museum. 2 Degrees of Separation. Baby’s Room. Punxsutawney Phil. Already Behind on Google Reader. Garden Planning. Really Greasy Grilled Cheese. Ice Rain. Laundry. Taxes. No Set Schedule. Finally Dressed. Back to making lists. Planning for the Unknown. I could go on for Days. Not so Tumultuous. It’s All Relative.

Another trip North, but we think we’re actually getting somewhere.

I mentioned previously in part I & part II what life is like around our little house project, but let me say it again.. The people that live in the area — down the street, around the corner and in neighboring towns are among the nicest, most interesting and generally pleasing individuals that I have yet to come across in my vast expansive life… Even that guy walking down main street with the machete, he’s super cool — just looking to help someone with their hedge.

I think we had been in the house for about 10 minutes during this visit when Aunt Jane popped in to tell us she had left her coffee brew on just in case we needed a perk… She lives just a few doors down, and even though she was heading out to work at a local flower shop, we were welcome to ‘help ourselves’… just don’t let the cat out. And if we hadn’t had a blueberry waffle extravaganza a few short hours earlier… we might just have taken her up on her offer… Because not only was I drooling over the overwhelming friendliness of the whole situation, but I was also about to do something completely and totally beyond the boundaries of who I am. A Vapid Blonde was coming over. 

I know.
Hold on.
WAIT JUST A MINUTE.

Yes. For Real. And if I were inclined to be 10 years younger… FOR REALZZZZZ.

And I mean for real. Like in real life.. As in pinch your arm — real. Like internet real, but not… instead real life real. Like right there.. parking her bad-ass Corvette in front of my house.. walking up my walk and giving me a hug. Real. And, not only that, she brought me this:

Just exasperating the essence of cool. Just testing the limits of being calm, cool and collected. Madonna. Jackie-O. Joan Jett. Martha. Vapid’s got the game on you. And despite what the tabloids say… I really didn’t grab her for a PG-13 make-out session…. But obviously, the thought crossed my mind… COME ON PEOPLE, this is ME you’re talking to.

A Vapid Blonde came over to my house and it was fabulous… And after I stuttered through the conversations of only a few seconds of awkward “OH MY GAWD, SHE’S HERE” silent moments. I hope that she saw through the layers of house dust and sweat to see that I’m not that much of a geek… despite my sneakers and inability to control bursts of nervous laughter… I offered her a beer, she accepted, and the rest is within the walls of Native American Dorian Grey… who might just never tell.

But on with the show…
   

Okay. So today is Wednesday January 27, 2010. I know I ranted a few days ago about things all changing at once but this is ridiculous although I’m feeling less stressed because I think its finally sunk  into my stubborn-never-do-anything-different-or-modify-things-in-an-way-shape-or-form head that nothing is the same, and that’s okay. Can anyone out there tell me if something has caused this? Some MOON thing or the tides – or is this the year of the chicken or duck or something? Because it seems like a lifetime ago that things were normal and it’s only been a few weeks. And if I could just get an hour at the keyboard to myself then I might be able to retain my sanity because there are four days left in this FORSAKEN MONTH and what else could possibly happen? Because I knew that things would change… but all in a span of four weeks? Here is the run down and I apologize for the repetition:

1. I stopped eating dairy and eggs. I thought I’d try this because Will can’t eat dairy or eggs and I wanted to see what would happen. Well, its not that bad, but with the unexpected super fast loss of 5 pounds, one has to worry about what I’ve done to my body thus far AND none of my clothes fit me — I’m wearing a bag right now… with a nice belt.
2. The 5 pound loss could also be attributed to the change in dinner routine where we actually sit down by FIVE THIRTY PM as a family to eat instead of waiting for Will to go to bed and then make dinner by  – oh 10:00.
3. We started working on THE HOUSE. Which is great but now I’m obsessed with decor and finding it hard to concentrate on most other things including WORK.
4. Not concentrating on work is okay since I am a killer procrastinator and started another blog AND was just relieved of my office lease– which I had another 6 months on. So now I can run free through the meadow in my bag and nice belt, finally CLOSE THE COMPANY and become an Independent Creative Consultant (again).
5. Closing the company is actually a huge relief because its been the bane of my existence since co-founding it with that boob half-wit of an ex-business partner. Then there were those people at that magazine which made life just so unnecessarily annoying. Then there were all those other clients that couldn’t/wouldn’t pay for requested work and others that stole design ideas and found cheaper firms to produce. And then let us not forget the disgruntled employees, disappearing programmers and the freelancers that borrowed things from the office. I did, however, have the opportunity to work on amazing projects with a few amazing people — but once the economy stopped cooperating and throwing money at us, the daily stress of operation was overwhelming.
6. Being an Independent (again) is also a good thing because the nap that moved from the morning to afternoon two weeks ago is now OVER. As I just now say “go lay down” again to the head peeking around the corner as I type this as fast as possible. Because this morning he jumped out of his crib at 6 am. It scared all of us but I got him to lay down again — only to have him acrobatically leap out again with the grace of a gazelle and land on his feet less than five minutes later. And, after modifying his crib so that he won’t break his neck, nap time has turned into a game of “see how many times Mom will tell me to go lay down before she admits that this isn’t working and the nap is over”. Bedtime will be interesting.
7. I suppose this game of not napping isn’t as bad as the DON’T SAY THAT game where he says “f’ing idiot” and I say “DON’T say that” which only results in him saying it like 18 more times with a huge smile on his face. I’m so looking forward to him starting preschool next week so that he can play this with a complete stranger that won’t judge me AT ALL. Then there’s the whole potty thing which he decided he wanted to try. Damn this PARENT THING IS HARD. And now he’s in the hallway rocking chair singing it with pride.

So, given that there are four more days of January, and my sanity is being held up by a thin strand of the ability to laugh at myself in humbling situations. I can only look forward to February where the seas will part, money floweth free and the sanctity of WHAT COULD POSSIBLY HAPPEN NEXT will remain a game  of “Go Lay Down”. Right?

I freaked a few people out yesterday — check out Dufmanno’s comment:

“Okay, that looks like the Native American Dorian Grey. Did this trip
involve a visit from the guys from Paranormal State, a cleansing ritual
and a mess of people apologizing for the colonization of the Americas?
I am worried for you and the family.”

The answer is no, she’s just a Native American that someone painted on the wall… you know, that urge to paint women randomly on bedroom walls… right? Although I did ask out loud about how many ghosts we were waking up… I was immediately told to stop acting weird.

A few years ago my husband and I came upon the rare opportunity to purchase a house that has been in his family since 1913. And when I say “been in his family” that’s what I mean because no one outside of the family has ever lived in it. Built by the Great Grandfather himself, and cared for by family and neighbors just STEEPED in tradition and history. So much so that I almost needed a spiritual reckoning before stepping foot over the town lines. These were and are amazing people filled with such goodness that you wonder just what is in the water… then they compliment you and do something else nice and you realize that it must be the soil… Then the snow melts and the flowers pop and smile… Even the rain is happy. It took me a long time to realize that these were really genuinely nice people — they didn’t want anything from me… They weren’t out to get me. In fact, if you can believe this, it was actually ME that was the weirdo with that sarcasm and pocket full of kryptonite… who knew?

So anyway. A few years ago my husband and I came upon this opportunity and we took it. We bought Pop’s house after he passed away. We bought it with the intentions of fixing it up and renting it out and then of course using it over holidays–AND we did this despite the fact that we live 4 hours away from it… And then it sat. We thought about it a few times over the years… paid it a few visits… even rented it out to those that didn’t mind it’s condition. It sat there waiting for us… settling into being the house that SOMETHING was eventually going to happen to. Life took over… until last Monday (one week ago) we decided to do something about it…This is just the beginning… we have tons of work to do.
  

Having agreed to this interview, Lynette took an hour off from her full-time famed Mom position and demanding blog routine. With a huge sigh, she slipped into the armchair across from me at the local, virtual coffee house. Tapping her boots, she politely glanced at her watch while catching my eye — it was apparent that this needed to going toot sweet… LZ takes a sip from her Dunkin Donuts French Vanilla (with lots of cream & sugar) and rolls her eyes at the approaching waiter… The interview
begins.

Describe your most rewarding experience to date. Using a super cheesy line to pick up my husband in a bar! Can’t believe I had the balls, and even more so, can’t believe he fell for it! I need to know what you said. What was your line? Sorry to be pushy but I’m thinking there’s a whole world of women out there afraid to attempt cheesy pick-up lines and you may be the turning point.  I used to smoke when I went out for drinks, and I was smoking when I was chatting with Joe. I offered him one, and he said no. I said “You should have one, since I’ll be kissing you later.” I posted about it a while back on My Messy Paradise.

I have never used a stupid line before, but clearly it worked!

Dinner or a movie or both? Movie! When I get out of the house without my kids, I am usually so excited to not hear my name called in an incessant, whining tone that I’d just rather go somewhere that it’s not okay to talk. A library would be fine, too. Or by myself…

How long have you been writing? I’ve had my blog for just under a year, and never really wrote much else. I get on a kick every so often to start a journal, but it only last for a few weeks. What was the spark behind starting it? Joe started a family website, and I wrote a few things for it, but found that I wanted to share stories that I didn’t necessarily want read by my family!

What inspires you? I tend to find inspiration by asking myself if what I’m doing is something I want my girls remembering. Are we having fun? Why not? Do I want them to remember me as sitting on my computer all day with them parked in front of the TV? No way… So you’re a lot like me and you type on the fly… if you could wear your computer on your arm would you? Absolutely. I want a netbook, but realize my family will forget my name if I am online any more than I already am.

What is your favorite word? Sleep. No wait…that’s my favorite hobby. And my favorite word…doesn’t it just sound nice? Say it – sleep. Ahhhh.

Would you ever hire a personal assistant? Sure. She would have to babysit and cook and clean, too. Honestly, if I did hire one, she would think I was the biggest waste of a brain on the planet. If one can’t manage the few things I actually have responsibility for, there’s not much hope. And what would you do while the assistant was taking it all over, aside from sleep? Get to the gym. Declutter my house. Read more. Go back to school.

What do you avoid? Toll roads and shopping at Christmas. I will drive miles out of my way to avoid paying tolls. Not because I’m cheap, but I find them stressful. Crowded parking lots stress me out to no end.

Is global warming for real? Al Gore told me it was. I believe him.

If you were a car, what kind of car would you be? A Volvo. Standard, safe, dependable. Somewhat boxy.

Who would play you as the staring role? Reese Witherspoon. Not really sure why, but I just asked my husband and he had the same answer. As Annette Hargrove or Elle Woods or in the vain of Reese, herself? Definitely not Elle Woods. I’m far from flashy. Not really prudish like Annette either. Probably just Reese. She seems pretty down to Earth and doesn’t flash her kids around like  accessories.

Which is more important: creativity or efficiency? Efficiency. I can’t stand to see time wasted. I used to be called the queen of efficiency when I was working and I hated it at the time, but I’m cool with the title now.

I wish I were more creative, but I’m not.
The very definition of Volvo!

What is the last thing you did before answering these questions? Watched my husband play wii tennis and finished watching Bring it On. What is it about that movie! I just watched it last night… again. I was not a cheerleader, where you? I’m guessing no. Do you think there are many blogging cheerleaders out there?  I was definitely not a cheerleader. I did gymnastics for 15 years, though. So, of course, I love Bring it On’s ugly cousin, “Stick it.” Have you seen that one? So bad. Yet, so, so good! Never seen it, but it’s now on my list.

I’m guessing there aren’t many blogging cheerleaders out there…

How would you describe your blog (My Messy Paradise)? It started out as a forum to vent my frustrations over feeding my picky, allergic daughters, but then I realized I knew absolutely nothing about food or eating habits, or I wouldn’t be having the issues that I was. Now, I guess it’s just a place to talk about anything on my mind. I hope people relate and laugh. I actually see a lot of myself in your blog–it is very honest. I also read into it and see a lot of creativity, which is rather anti-volvo, but I sense a need to share that I can really relate with. Thanks! I look to other bloggers and am amazed by creativity. I often find myself at a loss for post ideas, yet see some of my favorite bloggers posting about every day things that I would never think of.

At 2pm, where is your energy level? Pretty low. I so want to take a nap with my youngest, but my oldest is home by then and doesn’t nap.

If you won $20 million in the lottery, what would you do with the money? I would pay my bills, buy a new house and put away the money I’d need for my future. After that, I would want to do some good with it. Preferably in education, but I’m not quite sure what it would be. You drive a Volvo, don’t you. Nope, I drive a Honda. Same thing, I guess!

If you were an entrée, what would you be? Hmmm…I asked joe and he said Chicken parm, because that’s his favorite dish. -gag- I mean…so sweet! I think I might have a little crush on Joe. He’s awesome, I would totally not blame you if you did.

What is your favorite article of clothing? I have the most beaten pair of Michigan sweat pants from my sister in law. I think it’s the only piece of clothing that I have ever worn holes through. I will never thrown them away or stop wearing them, unless they fall apart. Unless you sew, the holes might be trying to tell you something…True, but I don’t wear them out of the house…so comfy!

What makes you angry? I’m not easily angered, but I get frustrated often – people who make everything revolve around themselves, the way the garbage collectors throw my barrels across the street, talking to someone who knows nothing about pop culture…even when it’s on the front page. I could really go on and on, but like you too much to do it… Because you’re not easily angered, right? I certainly made it sound like am!! I’m not a yeller, I roll my eyes a lot and sigh like nobody’s business.

Why the North East? Because I’m a glutton for punishment, and I was born here. I’ve lived in MA my whole life and my entire family is here. We are planning to move to NC next year, so that will be a huge change. I can’t wait to hear my
girls’ Southern drawls…Can you somehow say, “Wicked awesome’ with an accent that isn’t Bostonian? Sure you can! The term Wicked is so under-rated… I love New England and my husband grew up in Western MA… try to keep those Boston accents intact–nothing bettah!  Did he ever say, “Pissah?” It bugs the hell out of me when you say you’re from Boston and people say, “Wicked Pissah.” I honestly don’t think I’ve ever heard someone use that term here! Only on SNL. (((Shudder))) I’ve never heard him say pissah, and I never will. 
 
Can you describe an atom? Nucleus, protons, neutrons, electrons. Not sure what they do, but I remember the make up. Impressive! Can I use your real name for the purpose of this interview? It is rather spectacular… but I understand if you say no. Sure! No one has heard of my name prior to Desperate Housewives. I have spent 35 years correcting people. No, it’s not Annette. Not Nanette either. Wynette? Don’t think so. Call me Lyn, and I won’t answer…