pollyblog

In case you're looking for me, I'm at mypollyblog.livejournal.com. Come on over and visit. Sit a spell.

Okay, ya'll. I really hate to do this but I think I'm going to have to go back to blogspot. I really don't want to, but, you see, I got an iMac and we moved the pc downstairs to the playroom. Unfortunately, I cannot post to my blog or edit it from my Mac. They aren't compatible, or whatever the proper terminology is. So if I feel a blog coming on, I have to get up from my beautiful iMac, head downstairs to the pc, which is now surrounded by CRAP that belongs to the kids. (Yes, my computer is surrounded by crap, too, but it's my crap and that makes a world of difference.) So, until Weebly can get along with Mac, I will move back to blogspot. (http://mypollyblog.blogspot.com) Hmmm...now that I think of it, I haven't actually tried posting to blogspot from my Mac so it may not work either.  I'll try it out, and if it works, I'll give you the heads up to move on over.  Weebly Dan, you've been most helpful. Please let me know if you think weebly will work better with Mac in the near future. Bye for now.

It’s come to my attention that some of you are not privy to Pamnation, and it’s high time you learned.

Here’s how it works (true story)…

A friend from book club was wearing a lovely necklace at our last get-together. We all oohed and ahhed about it, until she finally she told us a friend from my neighborhood made it.

Today I called my book club friend to get the jewelry-making neighbor’s number, as I wanted to see her jewelry. So I called her and went by this afternoon.

When she opened the door, I said, “Oh, you look familiar.”

“Is it school?” she asked. No. “Church?” No. Oh well, we’ve probably seen each other at the pool or something.

We chatted while I looked through her jewelry and found a couple of things to buy. Then, as I was walking out the door to leave, something in her living room caught my eye, and I stepped back into the house to look again.

“I used to have a sofa just like that,” I said.  This look came across her face and she asked, “Where did you used to live.” When I told her near Garner, she said, “I bought that sofa from you. Remember, I broke the heel of my shoe while I was there?”

Sure enough, there was my red, camelback sofa, the one that I brought from Florida. The one I nursed both my babies on. The one Olivia leaped back and forth to from the coffee table. The one I had reupholstered from pale yellow to deep red. There it was in her living room.

I will say, she has given it a lovely new life. She has much the same colors as we did in our old home. The sofa sits between two built-in bookshelves in a room filled with music and love, as evidenced by the beautiful piano, guitar and drums set up in there.  She said it’s where she plants herself making jewelry while her husband and children are playing music.

Now I ax ya, what are the odds of that sofa moving to the very same neighborhood to which we later moved? And what, for crying out loud, are the chances that I’d ever find out about it?

That’s called Pamnation. You never know when it will strike. But you can count on it striking again!

Do you read the comic strip Zitz? If you do, then you may understand what life in this household is like these days.

For instance, Zach has this female interest. She’s Indian. I tell you this for a reason, which you will soon see. Tomorrow is the Diwali festival at the amphitheater down the road from our home. For those of you not in the know, Diwali is the Indian Festival of Lights. There will be lots of cultural festivities throughout the day, including dance performances, arts and crafts and lots of food. Then it culminates with a performance from India’s first and only boy band, called none other than A Band of Boys.

Well, I wanted to go to this festival but, of course, Zach was grumbling about it, like he does a lot these days with anything I suggest. “Aww, do I have to go?” That was his attitude. UNTIL, he texted with his friend, who said she was going to the Diwali festival, and suddenly, he is looking pretty good for the fact that he even knew what the heck it was, much less was going also. (Yeah, now he’s going.) And do I get any credit for broadening his worldly horizons. NOOOOOOOOO!

Another source of contention is his 8th grade school trip. It was changed from Boston to Outward Bound. Let me tell you, suggesting that a bunch of teenage girls and boys at various stages of puberty go out into the wilderness for several days without showers, without toilets, without blow dryers, is akin to asking them to go to school nekkid.  So, naturally, Zach is doing a lot of grumbling about it.  I said, “What if you had an open mind to the possibility that this could be a great experience? What if you just put some positive thoughts out there about it?" To which he replied, "That's like acting excited about doing math homework." I said, "Well, you can do it grumbling and get it done, or you can do it with a good outlook and get it done. Either way, you did it, but how was the experience for you?" 

For some reason, I just don't think he's getting my point. I need to figure out how to say it in teen-speak.

So, like, what if you, like, just went or whatever? Like, maybe you'd, like, have fun or something.

I didn’t win the dadgum Paula Deen Limerick contest. Apparently poets – with really good southern drawls – abound in our area. I think it’s because my accent wasn’t quite up to snuff. I should’ve had Dennis read it for me. Or Dr. Land. Either way, I lost. You can hear the winners, if you want, at share.triangle.com/PaulaDeen. Here’s mine, so you can see how it compares.

A sweet lil’ lady down South
Feared havin’ to live hand to mouth
She made fancy fixins
Threw buttery gritz in
Now, ya’ll love ‘er from North to South

Oy vey. I’ve wanted to write in my blog on so many occasions lately and then something comes up and I don’t seem to get around to it. Life would be so much easier with a round tuit.

So, what’s been happening? Well, let’s see. My son started shaving last weekend. He is very proud of himself. He’s had a dirty upper lip for sometime now and, apparently, it bothered him. Maybe that had something to do with the fact that his friends were calling him Carlos. He was so happy to get the shaver (an electric one) that he didn’t even get embarrassed when I told the checkout clerk that my son was starting to shave. He just stood there and beamed. “Use moisturizer,” she said.

Why is this a big deal to me? I mean shaving your face implies manliness. George Clooney. Five o’clock shadow and all that. I definitely have a double standard. I’m sure Olivia will be shaving her legs by the time she’s 13. But a boy shaving his face, that’s different, right? Were my friends shaving when we were 13. Somehow I don’t think so. I suppose some were hairier than others but still. (Jack, you could probably shed some light on this. When did you start shaving?) Maybe it’s those damn hormones in our food.

Of course it did prompt Olivia to ask me if she could start shaving her legs. An emphatic NOOOOOO was my answer. Nine-year-olds do not shave their legs. I do recall sneaking into the bathroom with my friend at about 9 or 10 and shaving my legs. Sherry and her friends spied on us through the window, which got me really angry and embarrassed. I think I got in trouble.

I am 5 weeks post op today and doing really well. I’ve been going to yoga class and walking regularly. No one would know I recently had major surgery. It’s amazing. I go back to the doc next week for my six-week check-up, at which time he should clear me for all activities.

The night-blooming cereus is going nuts. I had 8 blooms a few weeks ago and now it has 11 more buds. However, the weather is finally deciding to act its season and we will be dipping into the 30s at night by the weekend. I may have to move it to the garage or else those buds will stay clamped shut.

I’m writing this from my beautiful, new iMac that my darling husband authorized for our 20th anniversary. It’s really suuuhhweeeeet. I mean that. I’m taking classes at the Apple Store, and hopefully will be whipping out awesome montages in the near future. My next class is iMovie so I will be getting started very soon. Who’s my first customer? Jamie? Buehler? Anyone?

Yeah, I know this is boring. Think of the pressure on me after such a long absence to come up with something well-written, witty, captivating. And yet.

I’m supposedly getting published in the Lush catalog. I wrote them a letter while recovering from surgery, raving about how much their products relaxed me, etc. They sent me a coupon and asked permission to publish my letter. Now, if someone would just find my blog and offer me lots of money to publish IT!

Oh, and I might get published in the newspaper for the Paula Deen limerick contest. Now, if I make it to one of the finalists, then you’ll be hearing from me again to vote for me. That’s how the winner is picked, by popular vote from readers. So I’ll keep you posted on that.

Alrighty then. Nice catching up. Don’t be a stranger yourself.

I’m five days out from having had a hysterectomy and here’s what I have to say: WHAT TOOK ME SO LONG???!!!

Actually, I know what took me so long. Accuse me of new age mumbo jumbo but the fact is there were many things that needed to take place before I would be ready. First, I needed to explore all my options (thank you, Mona). That way, I can never look back with regret and say, “I should’ve tried such and such first.”  Secondly, I needed to be in this neighborhood with these great neighbors and friends who took such good care of me and my family with food, rides and moral support. Thirdly, I needed to find my doctor. That was the final piece to the puzzle. I only found him at the beginning of the summer. At the time, I didn’t realize that I wasn’t all that comfortable with my previous doctor. But once I found him, the decision was clear.

 If you have to go through this, make sure it’s laparoscopic because it makes a WORLD of difference. I’m not one who can stomach watching medical procedures on TV, or even looking at pictures of surgeries in progress. I get all queasy and woozy and my buttocks squeeze together kind of like when I’m looking over the side of a high cliff. But I am really curious about how this surgery is done. Details, I’m talking. I’m curious about the nitty gritty details. Because I have a hard time wrapping my brain around how they were able to figure out what was going on inside, prepare things, then remove my 14-16 week pregnant-sized uterus from a one inch incision. I have 3 incisions total. One, the largest measuring about 1 inch, was cut right on top of a previous incision scar. That’s where most of the work was done, I was told, which explains why it was the most sore of the three. Another, just above my belly button is about ¼ inch in size, and the third is about ¾ inch. That’s it.

I’ve been up and around from the get go. That’s what they want. But it’s been mostly confined to the house. Today, I’m going to take a short walk, get some fresh air and sun on my face for a dose of Vitamin D. After that, I’ll rest a bit. But I’m happy to report, recovery is coming fast and I’ll be back to the routine in no time. Though I think I will milk this a bit longer while I can!

I’m having a hysterectomy next week. Tuesday at 12:15 p.m. to be exact.

This has not been an easy decision. I’ve gone back and forth over the last couple of years pondering, should it stay or should it go.

See, I’m one of those people that typically believe our body parts should be left intact. Like tonsils. They have a purpose, leave ‘em be. You start taking things out and messing with the original design and next thing you know you’ve opened up Pandora’s box. Maybe I shouldn’t use the box analogy. Let’s go with can of worms. So, I tried to leave my uterus in place. I sought alternative treatments. I ignored it. But then I got fed-up and decided to get rid of it.

My friend, Renee, has a good theory on removing it. She equated my uterus with an old, worn-out sofa that still sits in the living room not being used but taking up precious space. She says I don’t need my uterus anymore; it’s served its purpose, now it’s just in the way. “You’d throw out the old sofa, wouldn’t you?” she asked. Well, yeah, I suppose so.

I really like my doctor. He has a great “bedside manner.” I don’t like that term. What else can we call it? How about, I really like the way he communicates and discusses things with me. I don’t feel like I’m just another uterus to him. He did a great job with the touchy subject of all the horrible, awful things that can go wrong during surgery, but sign on the dotted line anyway. I was feeling pretty good about this decision until I heard all those disclaimers. Crikey. Please don’t let me fall in the 1% of people that those things happen to, because someone has to be the 1%.

So, as my friend Brooke, who has such an uncanny way with words, says, “Goodbye, periods! Goodbye, sanitary pads! Goodbye, wings that stick to your pubes and yanks them every time you pull your panties down to go pee! Goodbye, inexplicable bloating!”

 I won’t be driving for a couple of weeks. But if all goes as planned – a laparoscopic procedure, no complications – I should be back on my feet in a week or so, just taking things gingerly for a short spell. Feel free to give me a call or drop me a line or loan me a good movie if you have one on DVD that you recommend.

I have this crazy notion that all really talented people are bi-polar. Here’s how it works. While manic, these creative types spend their time in a chaotic, frenzied state, producing brilliant works nothing short of genius. They have no time for sleeping, eating, and cleaning up after themselves like the rest of us mediocrity. Their time is spent purely creating. Then, after they’ve spent that round of brilliance, they sink into depression where they brood about, all the while finding inspiration for new material for even more brilliant creations to be brought forth during their next state of mania.

I am not bi-polar.

One would think this is something to celebrate. Yeah, I’m normal, and mediocre. Other times, like when I read something that expresses my thoughts, feelings and longings so completely but someone else expressed it for me, normalcy and mediocrity seem more like a curse.

So, what’s a mere mortal to do? Wait I guess. Wait for inspiration. Wait for brilliance. Wait for the next go round and see if I’m brilliant then.

 Princess Diana died 10 years ago today. I remember gasping and saying to 3-year-old Zach, “Oh, the Princess of Wales died.” To which he replied with heartfelt concern, “Did the whales love her? Are they going to miss her?”

Brilliant or mediocre, I ask ya?

I need some good clichés. Like, “My heart is bursting with happiness.” Or, “My cup runneth over,” or something along those lines. Let’s see, how else can I put this? Last night ended a week of rich, rewarding experiences and I am filled up from it all. Geez, this is HARD to express in words. If you haven’t been there you will likely think I’m off my rocker. If you’ve been in my shoes, perhaps you understand what I’m trying to say.  

We said goodbye to Yuki for the last time last night and it was like leaving a son. Olivia almost cried on the way home saying, “I miss Yuki already.” How can one week – one measly week of knowing someone – bring such closeness? I can’t quite express what it is, something about seeing things through the eyes of someone from another culture, and realizing that similarities exist whether you speak the same language or not.  

At the Sayonara send-off party we were to read a letter to our guest telling him what it meant to us to host him and get to know him. So I whipped something up from the family. Little did I know that so did Jay, Zach and Olivia. Jay’s letter was LOVELY. He was obviously very touched by this whole experience and connected with Yuki in a deep, meaningful way. Olivia’s letter was priceless. Unfortunately, it was hand-written so no copies of it remain. The gist of it was this – Yuki was like her other (nicer was scratched out) brother and she hopes he will come back to see us, in fact, bring his whole family back to visit, she said. You know what, that would be just fine with all of us. 

Thankfully, Zach is REALLY good at imitating him so we keep saying, “Do Yuki, do Yuki,” so it’s like we have him here with us if only for a moment. 

One of the senseis told Jay that the Japanese are very loyal. When you make a friend and put an effort into extending your friendship, you will have a friend for life. Well, I hope that’s the case. I’ve never been that great at maintaining long-distance friendships unless the other end helps me keep things going. Hopefully Yuki and his family will stay in touch. It would be well worth it to all of us in my family.