Jenmenke

Road Warrior

Babble

Sneak Peek at my Birthday Presents

Yes, it was my BIRTHDAY today!! And after last year’s dismal performance, this year shined brightly. It was a great day. The sun was actually visible!!! I got sunburned!!!

Anyway. I just had to share this gift that I got from my kids. And it wasn’t some, get-it-at-the-only-store-in-Watertown kind of thing. Morgan actually picked Charlie up after school and they drove to the CITIES to shop.

Today Charlie said, “I can’t wait to give you your present. It’s so awesome. You will love it.”

And then I opened this.

20110526-103106.jpg

I shit you not.

And I’m wondering, “hmmmm.”

Is it bad that I really DO love it, or does that make me dysfunctional?

Is it Monday?

The reason I ask is because I just realized my underwear is on backwards.

That’s really all I wanted to say.

It’s probably too much information, but then, doesn’t that describe just about every post I’ve ever written? Maybe you will read this and know that there is at least one person out in the world somewhere wearing her underwear backwards today (because, no, I did not correct my mistake) and your day will go better because of that knowledge.

Happy Tuesday!

Tired of the Eggroll Post Yet?

What an amazing discovery. All these amazingly cool and nice people read the stupid stuff I write. They actually cook some of the recipes I post. It’s utterly baffling.

And wonderfully flattering.

And very guilt provoking when I’m not timely at updating.

And terribly frightening. What horrible things have I written about again? Good thing I can’t remember pretty much everthing or I wouldn’t even be able to look people in the eyes anymore. Poor Dave.

(for new readers, we like to work “Poor Dave” into the occasional post as a celebration and honor to my husband who, in his ever loving and constant devotion, has to put up with me). Hopefully new readers will also know where to place my witty sarcasm.

Anyway, I so wish I could just cut and paste some soccer emails here just so you could see the inanity that I deal with this time of year. Hundreds of mind-numing emails a day:

Filled with mind numbing questions… and helpless people… and….

I digress. I digress. I digress.

What I really wanted to talk about was my annual post about mud.

And rain.

And snow.

And my car.

…which is filthy. But not nearly as filthy as it could be, given our recent weather.

And that thing hanging off the bottom?

…I’m pretty sure is a worm.

And my driveway.

… that the FedEx truck got stuck in a few days ago.

And the reason

…that we had to drag the garbage all the way to the top of the God-forsakken very long and muddy driveway.

Which is responsible for

…this extra stash of mud I like to carry around on my running boards.

That is, no doubt, the source

… of the worm.

Think Spring!

 

I’m Re-Training My Bladder

Yep. You read that right.

I’m re-training my bladder.

I had my annual check up a few months back and was told by my darling 30-ish nurse practitioner, Kristen, that — not to worry! –my little problem was a simple matter of re-training my bladder.

Like my naughty German Shorthair, Lola, it seems I have also been lax with the training of at least one of my internal organs.

Who knew?

It appears that when I apologize for Lola jumping up on guests, or whining at the door, I now also have to apologize for my urgent need to pee. Why is it always my fault?

Here is, apparently, what I have done wrong: I have taught my bladder that it will be rewarded upon my car’s arrival at my mailbox after any amount of time gone from home, be it 20 minutes or six hours. It’s a simple Pavlovian response. Mailbox = bladder reward.

It should be noted that I have an iron bladder and can go literal hours on end without the need to find a bathroom. I take great pride in that, by the way.

Next, I find myself arriving in my garage and about to exit the car while simultaneously giving myself a pep talk along the lines of,

“…you can do this. this is insane. you are a grown woman. it’s all in your head. ok. ok… OK.”

Then I steel myself and hop out of the car, my arms predictably loaded with all manner of items: coffee cup, phone, mail, newspaper, trash. And then: Noooo! not “go”! At which point I drop everything on the step, bend at the waist, and do an extremely flexible looking crossing of the legs… and wait.

Sometime I read the mail while I wait for the urge to pass. Then, eventually, I stand up and go into the house. And here is where I know I have mental problems:

I usually totally forget to pee when I get in the house. Because, you know, when it’s over, it’s over. I don’t have to go anymore.

Until I go to the kitchen sink, that is.

Then we start the whole process over again. Because, apparently, I’ve also trained my bladder to think kitchen sink = reward.

I wonder what other mistakes I’ve made in my life that I’m completely unaware of?

So here is what I’m supposed to do. I’m not supposed to “give in” to my bladder. I must “stand firm”. Wait at least 5 minutes, and then go. That is where my mistake has been, you see. I wait until it passes, then I completely forget. (Another menopausian nugget of fun). I forget for maybe another hour or two. Until I go back to the trigger (mailbox or sink). After one or two of these episodes, I eventually give in and run — not walk — to the bathroom.

Naughty, naughty.

It’s like I just fed my dog from the table. And she won’t forget that reward any time soon, if ever.

So, after months of this mental exercise I can tell you that it’s hard to teach an old dog new tricks. And while it has improved slightly, I have resigned myself to this fact:

I’m just a bad dog trainer.

Happy Spring!

 

 

No, I did not get a flu shot

There. Now stop asking me!

Yes, I have the flu. Thankfully it is not the barfy variety. Or the other kind either. It’s just the symptoms in the middle: fever, chills, body aches and massive, massive, unrelenting headache.

I got it approximately 20 hours after getting home from skiing in Colorado. And I am so thankful I didn’t get it sooner and ruin my trip.

Many of my savvy friends have suggested that perhaps it’s not the flu, but just the aftermath of a sloth like me spending three intense days skiing with SuperDave.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

It’s those same friends who like to remind me I’m a conscientious objector to the flu shot.

It’s true. I am.

I don’t get the flu very often. Though I’ve been sick more than usual this winter, I’ve only waved the white flag one day and laid on the couch. The rest of my illnesses are simply set-backs to my normal productivity. Nuisances.

Not this time. I’ve been laid out flat since Wednesday night. Today is the first day I’ve even been able to read or work on my computer. And yet, I’m far from well. And frankly, this stinks! Well, except for my previously well-fed belly which is currently looking nice and flat, if not taut…

To think that I actually wished for a sick day in bed not that long ago. I think I forgot that when you are truly sick, you can do nothing but lay with your eyes closed and moan.

Or is that just me?

Anyway, here is my theory: Occasionally getting sick — like getting the knock-down flu every 4 or 5 years — is good for you. It super charges the immune system. So that’s why I don’t get the flu shot.

Yes?

No?

Let’s debate this in the comments!

A Clarification

It’s not often that I post a retraction to a previous post. However, that little bit about the cats walking on my bread dough… I think I would have gotten away with it if Jane hadn’t tattled on me. I will admit that I included it for the thrill of a cheap laugh.

That isn’t to say it wasn’t true.

Oh no, no, no, no. It was true. And it’s a real problem. These damn cats of mine are a real damn problem. Mostly it’s the evil Pokie

This cat simply needs to be outside. She’s just looking for trouble all the time

And if it isn’t the fish — which she has hunted all through the house as I try to hide it from her, it’s the other cat Ollie

And if it isn’t the fish or Ollie, it’s anything in the sink. Notably anything in the sink soaking in water

(first I run get the camera. THEN I scream and smack her. –Just so we are clear. I don’t want you to think I actually allow this kind of shenanigans. However with cats, correct me if I am wrong, but it seems to make no difference? Oh. Except for when I use the ScatMat. But I’m rarely that prepared.)

This one sort of freaked me out. I still don’t know how she got in there.

Scared me to death…

And this is a stunt that both cats like to pull

Pokie and Paper – Large

I know I should just kick her outside. The problem is that I have a vested interest in the life of this cat. We have a tendency to “lose” cats. They simply disappear never to be seen again. My gut tells me they are disappearing into the mouths of coyotes and I couldn’t have that. Not with this one. I spent far too much time when she was a baby, feeding her with a baby bottle and wiping her butt to feed her to the local pack.

She’s just always stalking around the house making problems — the latest of which is my rising bread dough. Like the fish, for which I finally settled on a glass fronted cabinet, I have devised a cat-proof bread solution:

it’s the barrier method.

And for the record, I never gave Jeanette any cat-deflated loaves.

(That honor went to Chris.)