Monday Morning Millie

"Yummy! I just love the marshmallow filling!"

Secondhand Sunday

Sundays are my Secondhand day. I'm basically too lazy to think of anything new to say so I re-post a "vintage" entry.

If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.

"You're becoming a woman"

Original post date: September 20, 2013

An old woman, that is.

 

Remember when you were 11 and your mother told you that your body would start changing and that you would experience weird and wonderful things? Fast forward 37 years and replace "wonderful" with horrifying.

 

I've always prided myself in being able to read the teeny tiny print on anything. While people were lamenting that they couldn't see what it said, I would snatch whatever "it" was out of their hands and proudly proclaim the contents. Poor sap. I can't believe they can't read that.

 

Behold the poor sap.

 

 

Yep. I bought my first pair of reading glasses this week. Last year when I went in for my annual eye exam, the doctor suggested progressive lenses. That's the new catch phrase that they give 40-somethings to make bifocals seem hip. I wasn't buying it.

 

"No, thanks. Don't think we're quite there yet.", I said, inwardly wondering where I could find a compact size magnifying glass to keep in my purse.

 

I lost the magnifying glass so I decided it was time to get the glasses. They're only a 1.00 which is the lowest magnification so I don't feel too bad.

 

Oh, wait, yes I do.

 

Now I can't make fun of my sister for  squinting or peeking over her glasses to read the menu. And did I mention she's thinner than me now?

Gosh, karma really IS a bitch.

 

And there were 5

They say to be careful what you wish for. Of course, this adage never comes true when you wish for money. Or maybe that’s just me.

 

I always feel bad for my 8 year old cat, Vinny,  because the poor guy has to tolerate three barking, gluttonous dogs on a daily basis and I think to myself how nice it would be if I could get him a buddy. But he may not interact well with an older cat and I don’t really have the patience for a kitten so I don’t act on it.

 

Well….

 

A few days before I moved back into my old house, Millie and I stopped by to drop something off at the house around 10:30 at night. Millie’s really good off leash so I opened the car door to let her out. She took off!

 

She ran into the neighbor’s driveway and I saw her approaching a small black and white something. Oh crap, I thought to myself, we’re gonna get skunked again and I found myself taking inventory in my head of whether I had baking soda, peroxide and Dawn on hand to de-stink her.

 

As I approached, a tiny kitten came running toward me, mewing and mewing. I picked up the little tuxedo kitty and starting rubbing it on my face and giving it kisses (with no thought of whether it had fleas or not) when I heard mewing coming from the direction of the car in the driveway. There was another one in the wheel well of the neighbor’s car! This one was black and super skittish so I was having trouble just finding it in the dark while holding the other one.

 

Long, story, short…I ended up taking them both to my friend Michelle, the cat whisperer’s house. I really had no intention of keeping either one but, what can I say? He needed me!

 

 

Say hello to Georgie!

Booyah, Skye Terrier!

You know I have to acknowledge that a Beagle won the Westminster Dog Show! For only the second time in history, my favorite breed is the top dog.

 

The last time was in 2008, shortly after I got my beagle, Bernie, and you would have thought that she had taken the title. I was a proud beagle Momma!

 

Congratulations, Miss P!

 

 

 

These are my best in show. Millie, Sophie and Dino.

 

 



 

F-You, black ice!

Wow, I can't believe that it's been two months since I posted anything! SO much has been going on. The job is great, in spite of some drama with the black sheep that no one likes. But that's a whole 'nother story.

You all know how very clumsy I am. And how many times I've slammed my big toes into my dining room table and sprained my ankle(s) and found odd bruises all over my body that I don't remember incurring.

WELL......this one takes the cake!

I'm sure a lot of you are experiencing the brutality of this winter and if you're fortunate enough to not live in a snowy region, you still can't escape the headlines on the daily news of snow, snow and more snow!

On January 19, I took Dino and Millie out for one last potty before going to bed around 10:00. It was super cold, snowy and icy, so we didn't venture out much further than a quick trip to the tree lawn. Millie wandered into the neighbor's (who moved out a few months ago) driveway and started heading toward the street. I followed her to guide her back when I slipped on a patch of black ice at the end of the driveway.

I lost both leashes and the dogs took off running toward the house. "Shit. Another sprained ankle." I thought to myself as I started to get up to hobble toward the house, calling for the dogs. Only this time, when I tried to get up, a pain shot through my left leg and I fell to the ground again. I knew right away that I had broken something. I watched the dogs running back and forth across the yard and I was worried that they would run into the street. I tried to get up again. Horrifying pain once more and I fell back down on the ground.

I screamed for someone to help me but it was 10:00 at night in the middle of the winter. Windows are closed, furnaces are running and TV's are blasting. No response. I was hopeful when Dino got his leash stuck under the big trash dumpster in the neighbor's yard. I was sure that someone would hear his barking and come outside.

Nope.

I dragged myself across my front yard, grabbing chunks of snow and ice for leverage. I pulled myself up my steps into the house. Luckily, Millie followed me but poor Dino was still stuck. I called 911 and when the paramedics got there, the first thing I asked them to do was go get Dino. Only when I was sure they were both securely in the house, did I let them take me to the hospital.

I broke my fibula, which is one of your calf bones and I sprained my ankle. They put this loose thing on it, but I could even stand up because the pain was off the charts, even after taking Oxycodone.

They then applied a fiberglass cast from my ankle to mid-thigh. Still hurt like a bitch but at least my leg couldn't move. NIGHTMARE to get around my house and try to do anything. I had to use crutches so I couldn't even take my glass of water into the other room with me to take a pill.

 

I headed to an orthopedic surgeon the next day, who confirmed the break but said "If you're going to break something, this is the best bone to break." Yay.

Apparently, its a pretty common break for athletes and it has a pretty quick healing time. That all sounds good, right? Fast forward to two weeks ago when I followed up with the surgeon and he took the long cast off. Thank GOD.

Bad news. I have some serious nerve damage and can't lift my foot. It's a condition called foot drop. "Maybe it will come back, maybe it won't. We just need to wait and see." As you can imagine, I completely freaked out. There's nothing you can do to speed the process. It's more of a waiting game. I wondered why I had this shooting pain along the front of my shin and now I know, it was from damaging the peroneal nerve, which is part of the sciatic nerve. He said we'll give it about 3 months and see where it's at before we decide on next steps. i.e., physical therapy, surgery.

I'm wearing this lovely boot that I probably would have been able to take off by now if it weren't for the nerve damage. I still have crutches and a walker. A WALKER. I've really only used the walker a few times. It's not really functional around the house.

 

Fuck my life.

Tomorrow: Chrissy gets fitted for a brace.