Simple Pleasures

Today I had a really fantastic day in the clinic.  Not only were all of the ladies I saw pleasant and interesting, but the issues they had going on were fascinating as well.  I love days when there is a lot of variety and/or things I don't get to see very often.  My top three from today:

3.  A strawberry cervix

2.  Anal yeast infection with quite an impressive anal fissure

1.  A large Bartholin's abscess that I got to drain a huge amount of gooey pus out of.  Delicious!

If any of these words don't look familiar to you, I suggest you don't Google them, but instead go straight to YouTube.  Trust me on this.  It will be worth your while.  Let's just say it's pretty marvelous being a nurse midwife.

Today was really just icing on the cake after what I saw on Friday while Jared and I were on our way to pick up the littles from school:

That's right friends.  A gnome village right on someone's front lawn.  They also had some gnomes climbing their trees, but I was so excited about their main display, I couldn't be bothered to document anything else.  Plus, I have stopped in front of their house three times already to admire their artistry, so I didn't want to spend time taking a bunch of pics like a gawping idiot.  After all, I don't really want the owners to know how weird I really am, mainly so they won't call the cops when they see me coming. Well played gnome lovers.  I admire your balls for having something so ridiculous on your lawn...

I was really satisfied with my day so far and would have been happy to crawl into bed and thank the heavens for my lucky life.  But better still was what I found downstairs when I got home:

Yep.  My sweet lover has finally framed in my fruit room.  I still have to tile the floor, sheetrock, paint, hang a door...  Ok, I have a lot left to do.  But still, seeing that room framed absolutely made my day.  I Snapchatted about it, then made a video of me bugging Hannah about it:

It was then that I realized one of my most treasured simple pleasures is yelling at Hannah.  I have lots of examples of me doing this over the years.  Here are just two of my favorite examples from the last few months:

Glorious.  I live a blessed life.  How in the world am I ever going to continue being happy once Hannah moves out?  Guess I'm just going to have to fill the void with more of these:

First Day of Spring - Reprise

One year ago today, I was at the Ice Cream Barn with my friends, Renee and Kelsey.  We waited in line for over an hour on the opening day of the season for some of the best ice cream New England has to offer.  The yearly opening of the ice cream stands, frozen lemonade stands, and the clam shacks in New England, has become one of the things I look forward to the most.  Rhode Island absolutely shines in the summer and if the ice cream stands begin to open - well that just means warm weather, walks on the beach in my bare feet, and the sound of the waves in my ears with a lobster roll shoved in my gob aren't far off.  The best part about this year's opening was that my family was with me.  We had a nice dinner with Renee and Kelsey, followed by a fight with Hannah where she stomped off screaming and yelling about how she was staying at home, and ended with a delicious waffle cone in our hands.  Best of all, I saved 6 bucks because Hannah stayed home.  That's 6 bucks I get to use on another waffle cone for myself...  or maybe 6 Diet Dr. Pepper refills in my giant insulated mug.  Win for me.  Here's a shot from the festivities:

We only waited 15 minutes to get in this year.  There was a line out the door by the time we left, but it was colder this year than last and there was snow on the ground, so I think it kept everyone but the truly committed ice cream freaks out of my way.  Praise.  I also wanted Jared to drive by our local Del's today for some much needed frozen lemonade, but I decided to spread my joy out a little.  Therefore, I might save my 6 bucks for the Del's trucks I know I will start to see driving around everywhere soon enough.

What else happened today?  Well, my wet dry vac finally died after about 10 years of abuse including at least 1,000 gallons of water sucked up from various accidents and floods over the years.  I didn't want to let the poor gal go because she's been so good to us...  Ok, it's really because I'm cheap and didn't want to spring for a new one.  However, I know what life is like without a good shop vac, so off to Home Depot we went.  I dropped 120 bucks on a bigger and stronger model than I had before.  Jared was so happy he named him R7 D4 because he thought he looked like a Star Wars droid.  He was also VERY pleased with how much bigger the R7's hose was:

Normally I would say that size isn't everything, but in the case of a shop vac it totally is.  You can't believe the stuff I've tried to suck up with my shop vac because I'm too lazy to use a broom on my construction sites.  How wonderful to know I have twice the diameter to get crap stuck in the hose with.  Money well spent.  As I mentioned before, R7 is quite a bit bigger than my old machine.  How much bigger?

If it wasn't for the filter, Bub would have been able to fit inside with the lid on.  That translates into more room for all the water and/or trash that I plan to suck up with R7.  14 Gallons to be exact.  Best part of my purchase?  Bub and Lily started fighting over the box that R7 came in and kept trying to tape each other back into the box.  Their behavior caused Jared to yell at them to stop wasting his tape.  Yeah, because the tape is the most important part of the nonsense going on here:

      Welcome Spring.  I'm glad to see you.  Let's do it again next year...
     

Til Macho Man Do Us Part

Lately, I’ve become a nagging, critical shrew.  As usual, the man who married this shrew just lets my nonsense slide off his back, thus highlighting even more acutely what a petty jerk I've become.  I’ve given him lots of opportunity to complain about me, but he just won’t do it.  Therefore, by being nice, he just gives me one more thing to rag about.  What are my top three annoyances lately?  Here’s a concise bulleted list for you to enjoy:

• He’s starting to go bald
• He still hasn’t planned our yearly camping trip
• He’s complete trailer trash

Because I cringe at the shallowness of my gripes against a man I’ve loved for over 20 years, let’s just discuss item three so that I can win you back to my side.  Seriously, this crime alone is divorceable, and I’m a saint for putting up with it.  Before you get all excited about me using the term “trailer trash,” take a deep breath, because he really did live in a trailer when he was younger.  An actual double wide that my mother in law had turned into a right comfortable place to live in.  She’s actually quite a classy lady in my opinion, so I’m sort of hoping she doesn’t read my blog as I sit here roasting her son... and I guess her...  Sorry Inger.

What exactly makes Jared trash?  Let me give another concise bulleted list for your convenience, which is by no means conclusive:

• He would wear Hawaiian shirts 24/7 if I would let him
• His favorite meal is a vomitous concoction called “bacon, eggs, and corn”
• Monster truck races nearly make him giggle with glee (notice I said nearly) 
• He loves professional wrestling EVEN THOUGH HE KNOWS IT’S FAKE

I could continue with his trashy crimes, but I really just wanted to talk about his lame love of professional wrestling.  Why didn’t I just start the blog there?  Well, because I sort of wanted the post to be a little longer... and I also wanted everyone to know my husband is going bald...  I digress...   My most current example of Jared’s ridiculous wrestling problem centers around the following picture Kayley sent me of a treasure she found in Salt Lake City:

Despite the nose being rubbed off, he had the look of a professional wrestler to me, so I made the mistake of asking Jared about it.  Here’s the exchange it provoked with Kayley...

One might accuse me of being complicit in the above scenario, seeing as how I recognized the doll as a wrestler, and then baited Jared into telling me about it.  However, if I had never fallen for that trashy tub of guts, I’d still be in ignorance about the inner workings of professional wrestling, and would still have the luxury of looking down on those who enjoy that lame sport with disdain.  How can I continue to deride the nasty demographic of professional wrestling fans when I went and married a member of it?!  Again.  His fault.

Up until Monday of this week, I had nearly made up my mind to file for divorce - the trash factor had finally become too much and I was ready to move on with my life.  Ready that is, until the trash pile managed to pull off this feat:

Yep.  My prolonged move to Rhode Island effectively put a kibosh on my riding for the last three years, and the old gal needed some maintenance to get started this season.  I'm so excited to start riding again, I can barely stand it.  My lover even fixed my horn which has been broken since I first purchased my bike.  Take a listen:

I know.  It sort of sounds like a clown horn, but at least it's working!  Yep.  I've been taking the trash...  I mean, my lover, for granted lately.  Who cares if he's on his way to a shiny dome up top?...  What does it matter that he still hasn't booked a campsite even though I've been nagging about wanting to go hang out in the Berkshires for months?...  Who...  Wait.  What's this?  What shirt did you have the audacity to wear in public again today?

That's it.  Divorce back on!  And remember...  You're taking all the kids...

Treasure Trove

As per my usual, I have several renovation projects going on at once inside my home.  I can't seem to focus my attention on just one because I get bored from the pure tedium that's often required to finish a task quickly.  Additionally, I think I have ADHD because if I sit still too long, I ruminate on what I should do next, then hurry up and get started on what I just spent 10 minutes thinking about.  Then because of the ADHD, I find that I am bored from the pure tedium that's often required to finish a task quickly....  Get it?  What's been on my agenda for the last month?  Building a food storage room.  We started out just ripping up tile:

But before I could finish that, Jared and I found 2 holes that had not been repaired properly, which then required us to rip out a closet before I had planned to:

I would like to mention for the record that I usually sit around and let Jared and my dumb brother Jeff do most of the demolition work because I have a weird hatred of dust and rocks in my hair.  I also worry about scratching up my hands or arms which I happen to detest as well.  However, since my jerk brother Jeff is 2,500 miles away, I actually had to get busy and help a little more with the grunt work this time.  Know what hasn't changed?  The exasperated look my lover has whenever I convince him to help me with another ridiculous project:

Thankfully for Jared, the previous owner of our house was an unfastidious wiener, and thus stuffed quite an assortment of junk into the closet that I thought only held a water main pipe and some screens.  What did I find?

• Shower head
• A long pipe with a bend in it that I straddled to make it look like I had a penis
• Knee Brace
• Military cap of some type
• Rebar spikes
• Decorative shelving 
• Mandolin (food kind - not musical kind - one of my midwife partners thought I had a real find)
• Pipe with tobacco still in it

Since I continue to be amazed and irritated with Maria (the previous owner in case you've forgotten), I of course began to complain to anyone that would listen about what an uncleanly idiot she was.  It started innocently enough with pics like this:

But quickly began to go downhill starting with this picture I sent to my midwife partners:

It ended distastefully if not predictably with the following pic sent to my family:

During one thread, my dad had the audacity to ask why I hadn't found a dead body, to which I had to admit I couldn't be so lucky.  I believe my exact response was:

Although the treasures I found were absolutely worthless, the conversation it sparked was priceless.  And just because the conversation was everything Maria, don't think for one instant I've stopped hating you...  Oh, and I'm keeping the pipe...

Twins

This is me and my Emma checking out a lighthouse in Salem, Massachusetts:

As my small fan base would know, we went to Salem around Halloween with my friend Renee and her kids.  Unlike Hannah, Emma still likes me and doesn't seem to mind all the adventures I make her go on with me.  In fact, every Sunday, I try to take my kids to someplace new so that we can grow to appreciate Rhode Island and the rest of New England fully.  I call it our Sunday Adventure and Emma will often ask me what I have planned ahead of time. She also seems genuinely disappointed if we have to miss an adventure day.  Everyone thinks Emma looks just like me but I just can't see it.

Even though I don't believe that Emma "looks just like you..." she has inherited my inability to keep anything a secret.  If there is anything that she knows that might at all be embarrassing, improper, or questionable, she vomits it out to the first person that will lend her an ear.  She's ratted me out for being commando, pooping my pants, telling complete strangers about all the horrible things I've done to my siblings... seriously, no detail is too minute for her to keep track of or blurt out at just the right time.

I realized she had begun to transcend her tattle tale mentality when she began to vomit every detail about her own life to anyone that would listen...

With this step, she has begun a tradition in her own life that was started generations before her and I couldn't be more excited about it!  This is a picture of my paternal grandma Camilla with her first baby:


This woman was famous for sharing everything.  My favorite story was when she knew she needed to go to the bathroom while she was mowing the lawn one day.  She kept holding it because she needed to finish the mowing and before you knew it, she had pooped her pants.  Any person labeled "normal" by traditional society would have washed her shame away and hid the evidence from everyone.  Not Camilla D.  That lovely lunatic cleaned up and immediately let her next door neighbor know all the gory details.  Fantastic.

Then of course, there's this lady:

I don't think I need to expand here.  I have plenty of blogging hours under my belt to prove where I stand on the issue...

Yesterday, I had to take Emma to the pediatrician because I thought she might have a bladder infection.  Given that she's 11 and hasn't mastered the art of solo urine collection, she requested I go in to help her.  The collection was going well until she suddenly let go with a large burst of pee and before I knew it, she had whizzed all over my hand.  I teased her about it a bit and thought that would be the end of it until I noticed she had sent this text to her sister Kayley:

My heart beamed.  Especially because she gave Kayley no context.  If I had not chimed in and discussed what was going on, it would have left the door open for all sorts of interpretation.  In like fashion, I publically announced Emma's triumph to the world:

However, I realized later when my friend Kareena texted back to insinuate I was pregnant, that I forgot to mention Emma in the snap.  Therefore, it looks like I peed on my own hand.  Just to teach Emma that shame hanging around bodily functions does not belong in our lives, I only clarified the situation to Kareena.  That's right Emma, all my Snapchat friends think I peed on my hands and I don't care!  Keep up the good work little gremlin, you're well on your way to becoming my twin inside and out (for those that can see the out part).  Just please don't tell anyone I'm pregnant...

Happy Holidays Maria

Well Thanksgiving has come and gone and it was nice to spend ours with my friend Renee and her family.  The food was good, the company was fine, and nothing started on fire.  Disappointing, but expected.  Here's some photos of our day:

No sooner had we finished eating then I realized I normally set up my Christmas tree on Thanksgiving day.  Only problem?  My front room still needed new paint and was in no condition to accept the beauty of the season.  As such, I bullied Jared into letting me stop all the sanding I've been doing on my doors and banisters and let me get the front room done instead.  For the last two days, I have done nothing but paint, then go to work, then paint some more.  I let youtube babysit my children and didn't think twice about my poor decision.  Want to know what Bubba did while I was distracted?

Yep.  I have four videos of her doing that very thing on my phone.  Obviously she was bored.  I won't deny what a neglectful mother I am, but she'll be happy once the tree is up.

Although painting can be tedious, it's actually quite an inexpensive and satisfying upgrade to a room.  Maria the jerk had my front room painted this poop brown color.  She had multiple different types of texture on the walls and two holes that used to hold sconces over which she screwed a plastic cover.  I'd like to spend three years complaining about all the problems in my house, including that I now need a new furnace because Maria bought the cheapest unit ever and then had it installed incorrectly.  However, I've been running into quite a lot of writer's block lately so I need to save a few ideas in case I get into a blogging emergency.  Therefore, let me just say that I picked a beautiful yellow color and after all the repairs and finish work is finally done, that front room will be comfy, cozy, and ready to accept a Christmas tree. 

Although I think I do a nice job with painting and choosing colors to match my bright and colorful soul, my sister Briana thinks my taste in colors is ridiculous.  She is by far my worst critic, and spent a lot of time telling me how gaudy and trashy I was when we both lived in Idaho Falls.  I let her help me pick out my front room color in Idaho so that I would have one room that wasn't a carnival color.  She found a shade called Malted Milk that was just lovely.  We found a light blue to match and I immediately told her it was going on the ceiling.  She berated me and told me decent people don't paint their ceilings weird colors.  I didn't listen and as a consequence, it was gorgeous, and even Briana admitted she had been wrong about her ceiling rule. 

When I started slapping my yellow on the walls yesterday, I got a little nostalgic, so I sent a selfie to Briana.

I'm sure deep down she really does like the yellow and is jealous of my unabashed living because today she texted me and told me she missed me and wished I hadn't moved so far away.  I know Briana.  I'm pretty fabulous  You don't have to tell me twice.  Actually, I kind of miss her too because who is going to keep me from making poor color decisions?  No one.  That's who.  Oh well.  I guess the vibrant yellow stays and it's one more thing that is helping Maria and her horrible influence to disappear from this house.  Happy Holidays and good riddance.  May the peace of the season keep you far away from me. 

Thanksgiving Blues

As you may have noticed, Thanksgiving is a week away.  Because I don't have my mommy to feed me anymore, I had to make alternate plans so that some other sucker will cook a turkey for me.  Last year, I was living with Renee and so by default, her family invited me to their Thanksgiving feast.  A few weeks ago, I invited myself and my brood over to Renee's celebration for a second time.  Luckily for me, she still doesn't know what a dirtbag I really am deep down, so she agreed to let me come over.  My assignment is gravy, rolls, and dessert.  I would have agreed to almost anything as long as I didn't have to take responsibility for the turkey!  I have a sneaking suspicion that I will never experience the nonsense that has often been a part of mine and/or Jared's family's Thanksgiving celebrations when hanging with Renee.  You want examples?  How about the fact that Jared's family colors their mashed potatoes every year.  Do you know how creepy it is to eat orange, green, or pink potatoes?  What about the time my sister Chris served us a raw turkey?  Or even the time that we lit the sweet potato casserole on fire three times before it could make it to the table.  I can even mention the time my dad bought a bunch of crappy pies from the Schwan man which I bet cost him a million bucks.  Then he was mad when we all ended up making homemade pies anyway because frozen pies taste like B-U-T-T-H-O-L-E-S.  As a consequence, we had even more pies than normal and were forced to eat his yucky ones just so he would shut up about all the money he spent.  Yeah, Thanksgiving at Renee's is probably just going to be a bunch of good food shared with people that behave themselves, but no one is perfect I guess.

Since the holidays are on their way, eggnog has made it's annual appearance as well.  Thanksgiving might be around the corner for me, but Reed's dairy no longer is.  This means that there is no eggnog joy in my life anymore.  I have made a few attempts these last 2 seasons to find an acceptable substitute, but such a thing does not exist and never can.  I cannot stress enough to those who are unfamiliar with Reed's dairy, that their chocolate milk, eggnog, and chocolate eggnog can never be equaled...  Ever... Period...  Believe me when I say, that unless you take a trip to Idaho Falls, ID and taste the magic for yourself, you will never understand how empty your life has been, and how meaningless it will be ever after as long as Reed's is not available.  Here's my eggnog attempt this year...

I'm secretly hoping that my dad reads my blog and will feel tender towards me and spend a million dollars to ship me some Reed's eggnog instead of wasting his moola on more crappy Schwan's pies.  However, my dad reads meaningful things like WWII books, and books on the American revolution, and the newspaper.  He most certainly does not waste time reading the fluff that one finds on the pages of my blog.  I know my mom reads my blog, but she's cheaper than I am, so she'd never feel sorry enough for me to ship me eggnog.  The last thing she mailed me was a paint scraper that she got for free from someone.  I'm also pretty sure she had my dad mail it so that she wouldn't have to waste her own dough helping me out.  Don't deny it mommy, I respect your frugality.  Plus, I actually love that scraper and hope it lasts so that I don't have to spend MY money on a new one.

Oh well, Thanksgiving is gonna be different from now on.  It's also gonna be several seasons before I am able to get home for some real egg nog.  It's cool.  I'm over it already.  Know why?