Monday, March 30, 2009

Stinky Pinky

I survived my trigger finger surgery.

The hand surgeon gave me some false expectations regarding recovery, so I keep thinking something is very, very wrong because I can't bend my pinky without pain. (He had me thinking I'd be playing my guitar within a few days.)

I just had the surgery on Wednesday. Which means it's only been 4 days since I was knifed! Pretty soon, my pinkie is going to start pulling her weight around here, and when she does and I become more agile with the typing, I've got some strange hospital-stay happenings to report.

Preview One example: While in the recovery room, I asked my surgeon if he had other surgeries like mine later that day and he replied, "No. Not like yours. But I do have a hairy one coming up. It's a revision. I don't normally have to go back in, but something just didn't go right on this one. Now I have to reset the bone." Awesome to hear, right after this man had just stitched me up. Hopefully he doesn't consider my hand "hairy". I pray for NO REVISIONS.

Friday, March 27, 2009


I firmly believe that no one loves you like your mom. I know for sure this is the case for me, anyway.

I have so many great memories of Mom. One in particular I thought of this morning. It's just a small snapshot of a day, but I think of it often because it represents the way Mom made me feel. And it is this~

Mom had coffee with her friends every Friday morning. They'd meet up at a la Madeleine near her house. She'd invite me along, but usually I didn't go. They met sort of early, on the other side of town from me, and it just wasn't something I usually thought to do. I remember one morning I did happen to show up, though. I saw the table of her and a group of about 10 other ladies. I so vividly remember her turning to see me as I walked over to her and with such a happy and surprised look she said, "Well, there she is!", and pulled up a chair for me to sit right beside her. It seemed so sweet to me, because I saw my mom so often, and talked to her daily but yet, me showing up for coffee somehow brought her such joy. I would've thought with so many friends there, my being there wouldn't have really added much. But Mom made it clear how much she loved having me beside her, along with her big group of friends.

Like I said, it was just a little moment, but one that I have thought of often. And it makes me so happy, because I remember, THAT is how Mom loved me.

It's been 4 years now- I miss her every single day. But memories such as this one are still clear- I still see her face, hear her voice, and I know how much she loved me.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

I survived my hand surgery. And during the several hours I spent at the hospital, lots of odd things happened. And I kept thinking to myself, "I cannot wait to blog about this."

And I will. Soon! But right now it's a little hard to type, and that post isn't going to be short. So for now, I just wanted to make a comment on something I was reading about and then thinking about.

I was just reading a book I have called Leaving a Trace, which just a little book about journal keeping. I've always kept journals. As a kid- I called it a diary. I've kept them for years and years and years. Sometimes I write daily, and sometimes I go for weeks without writing a thing.

In the book, Leaving a Trace, I was reading about the importance of knowing your journal is private and safe. It mentioned some funny things people have done to be sure that their journals aren't read by others. Da Vinci wrote in mirror messages. Anais Nin kept a "decoy" ciary for her husband. Others write in foreign languages, or on computers and use secretly coded file names, or by using private codes. I so related to this need for privacy, but have never really gone to any extent to lock things down, so to speak. I've sometimes wondered what's going to happen to my journals when I die. Will someone who loves me want to read them? And at that point, will I care? I think I sometimes hold back when writing in my journal- for fear that at some point, someone else will read my private thoughts. But to really, really use a journal properly, I should be as revealing as possible. Right?

I respect other's need for privacy, but I have to admit, if my mom had kept a journal, it would be so hard for me to resist the urge to read it. I'd just want to read anything she had to say.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Going Under the Knife

Tomorrow morning at 6 A.M. (eww) I'm suppose to show up at the hospital for my trigger finger surgery. I think it's my first surgery. Ever. In my life. (Unless, for some reason I am forgetting about some surgery I might have had in the past, which seems unlikely.)

I was once admitted to the hospital in my early 20s when I was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. But nope, no surgeries.

Although I could have chosen to be "put under", I decided it was easiest to just forgo that, and just have my hand put to sleep instead. The surgery supposedly only takes about 15 minutes and I figure I'd rather endure that quarter hour or so of consciousness than have to figure out how to avoid low blood sugars due to not eating something that morning. Can you pass out when you're put under, and how would they know if you did? Hm. Well, I won't be finding out the answer on that one tomorrow.

So even though this is surgery, it's really more of a procedure that they do at a hospital rather than at the doctor's office. But I like telling people I'm going under the knife. I'll also be getting some stitches. And if I'm lucky, I'll have a small scar to show for it all. Well, that, AND a pinkie finger that moves freely and doesn't trigger anymore!

Saturday, March 21, 2009

In Bloom

It is that lovely time of the year, when I am overcome by the urge to buy the beautiful Spring colored flowers to plant in pots for my front and back porches. Spring officially began two days ago- The trees are starting to pop with green, weeds are starting to grow in my yard-which means the grass is soon to follow!, and the days are perfect for sitting outside without even getting eaten up by mosquitoes!

This morning, my husband and I went up to two different plant nurseries. He was there to pick out a few shrubs to fill in around a tree we planted a few years ago, and I tagged along.

I walked by and touched so many beautiful plants and flowers. And I couldn't resist buying my ten favorites. And although they are my favorites, and I already love them, I also feel sad for them. They are probably at their peak in beauty and happiness TODAY. Right now. Freshly planted in my pots. Just watered. There's not one ounce of neglect I'm exhibiting toward them at this point. If only they knew my history.

I worry for them that I will repeat my typical pattern. I will water them and look at them lovingly while the weather is still great. If we're lucky, this could last a couple of months. But as the heat and mosquitoes take over, I'm likely to turn my affection over to something else entirely.

My intentions are good. I really WANT to stay dedicated to my plants this year. I want them to live long lives and feel so great that they bloom flowers everywhere to prove it! But I am not known for having a green thumb. I can never tell if I'm over or under-watering. (My husband assures me, I have never over-watered a plant in my life.) I'm never sure if they need more sun, or less. As soon as one starts to brown, or get droopy,...well, it seems to be too late to do anything to save them.

Today is March 21st. The 2nd day of Spring. I'll try to remember to post an update on the first day of Summer and see if my new plants were all able to hang in there and thrive- and then we'll see how far we can go from there.

Happy Spring, Everybody. My all your flowers bloom!

Sunday, March 15, 2009

The Z

A few nights ago, my husband's mom gave him his old high school annual- from when both he and I were sophomores at J.J. Pearce.

So of course, I decided to read through the notes left to him by other classmates. The majority of these little letters were written by girls of course, and a huge percentage of them said something like, "You're a real cutie! I can't wait to go for a ride in your Z."

Here are a few unedited outtakes:

"...You better come see me this summer in your big bad Z! I don't have to remind you to party hard this summer because I know you've already started!"

"...You better call me this summer so we can go cruisin' in your 'Z'!"

"...Party hard! I know you will. When can I drive your car?"

"...I still haven't gotten a ride from you in your bad-ass 280Z! I better get one this summer."

Hmm?! Those girls were pretty demanding and I hope none of them ever got a chance to drive his Z, OR party hard with him!!!

Although Fermin and I went to high school together, we didn't really know each other. Not even enough for me to sign his annual. Nor was I privy to the fact that he drove a 280Z.

Perhaps that is why, when we began dating several years later he knew I really loved him for him. By the time I met him, he no longer had a 280Z. He had a un-air-conditioned Scirroco. I never asked to drive it. Instead, he asked me to drive it so he could teach me how to drive a standard. (Which by the way, we tried, but without much success.)

Now I am married to the man- who drives a big bad SUV. And we party hard most days...

Friday, March 13, 2009

While I went on a week-long vacation in the Caribbean, I had my dad and one of my friends look in on Zoe and Scout. I know that the girls would rather be home than anywhere else, but I knew they needed some good people to give them some attention. So I kissed my sweet girls goodbye about 4:30 a.m. (ouch!)that Saturday that I left, feeling pretty secure that they would have a good week.

But the first night I was away, I got a call from my friend telling me Scout couldn't walk. Or even get up. It was a terrible thing to hear- as you can imagine.

We checked in on her status whenever we were able (which wasn't much-), and after she didn't seem to get any better over the next several days, I assumed she had torn the ligament in her other leg. (She had had surgery on one leg last year for this.) Since Scout wasn't whimpering, I figured she wasn't in pain, but just couldn't use her leg.

So for that one reason (and then of course, Zoe being reason #2) I was happy to get back at the end of the week. I found out that for the past couple of days, Scout hadn't been eating her food.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

It's My Bag

After busting the zipper of my over-loaded purse, I decided to go buy myself a new, bigger bag to keep all my necessary crap in.

This solo shopping excursion I took today made me think so much about my mom. When I was a kid, she used to take me shopping. She always made me start at the discount stores, which at the time, I thought was so lame. I can remember once we got home with all of our loot, I'd show my dad all the things that his money had bought me. And my mom and I would get so excited about the great deals we found. Inevitably, we were always able to tell dad that we actually saved more than we spent, once you took all of the discounts into account. (I Heart Unexpected Puns!)

Mom would have been so happy with my purchase today. I started at the discount stores. I looked at a few places, and then I found the cutest bag- maybe the cutest bag ever, in the whole history of the world, at TJMaxx. It had the original brand price tag on it and it said it was $229. The TJMaxx price tag said $99. It was actually more than I had planned on spending. But the bag was just so darn cute. (As already stated above.) AND, I saved more than I spent.