Bustin' a Move

I was going to wait until I had nothing to do before returning to Blogland. With our visitors from Australia, a flooded basement, another water leak a week later, my daughter's pageant, Yellowstone, Disneyland.....I haven't had a chance to catch up! Then Seth shared with me this hilarious story:

Seth walked his girlfriend out to the car to say good-bye......his little sister (Mimi, 11) decided to follow them. As they had their arms around each other waiting for the right moment for the goodnight kiss, Mimi stood three feet away from them. Unaware of the awkwardness she was causing she stood there, dancing to the beat in her head, wiggling her hips and shaking her booty. The young couple looked at her, trying to give her the hint. Finally, Mimi said, "C'mon, Seth. Let's do the Macarena so we can go inside."

Personally, I like doing the Hustle.

Conversations With Ten Year Olds

Mimi called me at work today and the conversation was so good I had to put her on speaker phone so the other secretaries could enjoy it:

Mimi: You know how I was grounded this week?

Me: Yes.

Mimi: Well, I've been trying really hard to be a better person. Have you noticed I've been a better person this week?

Me: Yes.

Mimi: I've been trying really hard not to yell. I've only yelled about four times this whole week! I usually yell that much in a day!

Tonight as I picked her and Hannah up from the skating rink for a school skate night:

Mimi: It started off boring. It was boy's choice and that means the girls all have to stand in a line with their arms out like this (holding her arm out horizontally, waiting to be tagged). Luckily......no one picked me. When it was girl's choice I just skated around the circle - I didn't want to pick anyone.

I laughed thinking how different this conversation will be in a year or two.

Lady in Waiting

I posted on Facebook today that I hate waiting. I'm not a patient person when it comes to wasting my time. I went to work and then straight to the doctor for an appointment where I waited. And I waited. And can you believe there were NO FREAKIN' female magazines! Well, there were baby magazines, Family Fun, Parenting, Golf, ESPN, Car and Web MD. There was also a Bible that I figured was there for people who are really sick and need to change their wicked ways.

Back to waiting. I read the entire Bible.....well, I could have if I knew I'd be waiting for an hour and fifteen minutes. Then the medical assistant asked me to step on the scales and I whined like a four year old, "I didn't want to get weighed today."

She was very sympathetic, "I know, with this cold weather everyone has all those extra layers on." 'Cause it's bloomin' snowing today, folks - snowing in April!!! As if Pia getting voted off American Idol wasn't stupid enough.

The numbers appeared on the scales, "I don't really weigh that much." She humored me, "How much do you really weigh?" I subtracted 29 lbs. "Really? 20 lbs of extra clothing?" she asked.

"You do realize I'm here for depression and you're really not helping matters." She led me into another room where I waited for another 20 minutes. Newsweek or Marie Claire? Holy crap. I'm already smart and beautiful. They have nothing to offer me.

I went to the pharmacy and I had to wait some more because they didn't have my prescription ready. Then I was told my med needed a FREAKIN' PRE-AUTHORIZATION and guess what? Because I waited so long at the doctor's office it was now 5:00 in the evening and I would have to wait until possibly Monday. That gives me two more days to possibly go on a crime spree.

My husband suggested we go out to dinner and because I'm very considerate of his time, I decided to warn him about the waiting time. So we decided to meet there and while I was telling the kids to get in the car he called and asked me to wait for him instead. When we got to the restaurant they had a waiting time of 45 minutes. You add that to the waiting time it takes for the server to take your order and then the waiting time to bring your food, the drink refills, the free bread sticks, the mints and the bill and ........ so we went somewhere else.

Mimi needed to go to the bathroom and so I came with her to show her where the bathroom is and took the opportunity to wash my hands. As we were leaving I caught a glimpse of a very large brown slug on the floor in one of the stalls. I stepped back to take another look and it wasn't a slug. I said, "Ew. Is that a turd?"

"I can't look or I'll be sick," Mimi says. She was obviously switched at birth.

That had absolutely nothing to do with the rest of this story, but I thought you would like that part. Your welcome. But at least I was a responsible parent and chaperoned my kid to the bathroom unlike some. At least I hope that was a kid......or a stray animal. Did I mention this restaurant kind of rhymes with Crapper Barrel?

I guess I won't be tying my stories together, they are what they are.

"Voices, Continued" or "Oops! I Pushed the Wrong Button!"

When I had a spare minute the other day I thought I would add a little more to my last blog post that was supposed to be saved as a draft. I saw comments needing to be moderated. I looked at the screen in confusion, "Why would I have comments?" Then it hit me. I must have published my last post. So if you are suffering from the inertia it may have created when it came to a quick halt, I apologize. Where was I?

Yes, no voice. For seven weeks. It may seem like nothing, but this is how we communicate with each other. I know what it feels like to have a disability. People have no idea if you are intelligent, kind, angry, rude, sarcastic or any other emotion. Whispers come out mono-toned, like texting, except you can use all caps when you text to put an emphasis on words. I had to get good at Charades so people would know what I was talking about, especially in noisy places. You should have seen the kid's face at KFC when I ordered the chicken breast.

It was by accident I found out I could say one word without a problem. I was describing the voices in my head and how they were sounding a lot like Yosemite Sam. So I said a word that sounds like "spit" and my voice came out normal. I realized I didn't have laryngitis - I have Turrets Syndrome. During these last two months I have had to go to a Speech Pathologist for voice therapy. Who has ever heard of such a thing? I had to go around sounding out "mmmmm" on an exhale. Then it progressed to "mooooo." If anyone had any doubt that I was insane, it was all out at that point.

So that has been my trial this year. I feel as if I am overcoming an illness and can see the light of day now. When I went to work today, my friends came in the office to hear me speak, because they said they forgot what I sounded like. Our volunteer that has been coming in for over a month had never heard my voice before. I can answer the phones again. I can call my Mama. I can laugh. Most of you probably didn't even notice.

Voices

Some of you know I have been suffering with a voice disorder for going on seven weeks now. Suffering for me, blessing for others. I can say that I am every husband's dream right now. If you're a friend on Facebook, then you know there have been days I have tried to joke about it, there have been meltdowns, there has been sarcasm, and sometimes no mention of it at all.

It's kind of hard at this point not to think that God has some sort of personal vendetta out for me. It seems the things I enjoy doing, He takes away from me. I was an artist and my hand/wrist is full of pain and surgery didn't correct the pain - just gave me a different pain. I love to sing and after that surgery I do not have a voice. I'm not talking I don't have a beautiful voice - I can barely whisper, which takes much effort and if I talk too much I get light-headed.....not to mention my larynx actually hurts. I'm predicting the only thing left to take is my love of food, which now that I mention that.......I have had a metallic taste in my mouth since December and nothing tastes normal anymore. So maybe I will lose contact with everyone I know due to a traumatic brain injury in the near future. That's my Debbie Downer story for the day.

So when I was sitting in a church at a funeral, my friend graciously shared the hymn book. I waved my hand like I was turning down a serving of duck liver mousse on crudites. "Oh, yeah, I keep forgetting you can't sing," she says with a friendly smile. When you don't sing, you hear everyone around you. A person sitting behind us snorted. I think it was more like an accidental pig noise when your uvula trips over the back of your tongue. Then I heard the same person trying to make their voice match the low vibration of the organ. Then I heard this person's voice scoop to a squeeky high note. This was a lady person, who happened to have no control over her vocal cords and probably over her bladder. Then the conversation with her friend started, "What a shame Danny's not married." "He's not married?" "Well, he was engaged once, but it didn't work out." "He's such a good looking boy, too, what a shame."

Then that night we went to Ali's high school production of "Peter Pan." This time the person behind us was a four year old little girl and her grandma. As Wendy comes down from the air with an arrow through her and the lost boys laid her on the ground, she asks, "Is Wendy dead? Is she dead?" When the pirates were fighting she says as proper as she can, "That's not very nice."