Dial "D" For Diarrhea And Disney!

It's been a week since I last posted anything about my amazingly exciting life, and for that, I apologize profusely. I've been so crazy busy, though, that I'm surprised I'm still thinking straight.

Okay, I lied. I haven't been busy at all. Not really, anyway. Unless, of course, you consider sitting on the toilet for 16 out of 24 hours every day busy, moaning as your insides are no longer inside. That awful noise you heard the other night that woke you out of your wonderfully deep sleep? Yeah, that was me. On the toilet.

I'm STILL sick, and I'm sick and tired of being sick...and tired. I finally got in to see my doctor, and told him I've had this stomach thing going on four weeks now, and isn't enough enough when it comes to diarrhea? And you know what? He agreed. There is, in fact, a stomach virus making the rounds in the nation's capital, but four weeks is still an awfully long time. He told me to take some Imodium to try and settle things down, and then, if things don't improve in a week's time, come back and see him. Well, they're not getting any better, folks. Story of my sad and sorry life. He also said if it doesn't get better, I have to get my Hershey Squirts examined. Oh, how I envy the technician that gets my sample.

And aren't you glad you visited my blog today?

Apart from having to be near a toilet 24/7, things have just been dandy for me. Our new dishwasher finally got installed, and I've already named it: Sparky. Because this dishwasher has saved my life and my nerves. There is nothing worse than having to listen to your children bicker every day because they have to wash the dishes by hand, unless you include having to re-wash the same dishes yourself because your children don't care to actually make sure the dishes are clean before putting them away. I love my new dishwasher. Let's hope it lasts longer than the last one.

The whole family also went to get their H1N1 shot on Saturday, and wasn't that more fun than a trip to Disney World (speaking of which, more on that in a minute). There's been a whole lot of kerfuffle here about the H1N1 shot, and the wait times, the line-ups, and we've been patiently waiting for the right time to go, seeing as three out of four of us have underlying conditions which make us part of the population who get their shot before "the regular folk". Yes, that means we're better than they are.

Anywearespecialhaha, everyone gets their shot without a flinch passing before their eyes, and then it's Dee's turn, and all hell breaks loose faster than you can say "what the hell?". He starts shaking and crying and says over and over that he doesn't want the shot, and I keep telling him he has no choice, and the tears are just streaming down his pudgy little cheeks, and I feel so sorry for the poor little guy because he's been through enough in his short life, and then, it's over and he wipes the snot off his face and pouts for the rest of the day. But he lived through it.

Mr. Handsome's mom came along with us, and boy, she attracts drama like a honeysuckle draws bees. Because soon after she got her shot, she reads the paper they give out talking about side effects and stuff, and all of a sudden she's not feeling so well -- kind of dizzy and hot -- so I go tell one of the many paramedics who were sitting around (and not one of them were hunky, goddammit), and they made her lie flat on the floor with her feet up on a chair in front of everyone in the room. And how embarrassing is that?! Very. Poor woman. After getting crapped on by the nurse there because momma hadn't had anything to eat, and having some orange juice to perk up her system a bit, we were on our way home again.

But the creme de la creme, guys, is this: we're going to Disney! We've been a few times now, but man, that place does something to us. Are we the only ones who feel this way about Disney World? We had no emotional anything toward this place before our first trip back in 2002, through Make-a-Wish. But let me tell you, that trip did it for us. Because ever since then, we've been Disney Crazy. Especially Mr. Handsome, of all people. If you knew Mr. Handsome like I know Mr. Handsome, you would understand. Mr. Handsome's "other" name is Dr. Spock, guys. Does that give you a clue?

Anyway, we're going to Disney, a very spur-of-the-moment, last-minute decision, based on nothing but our stress levels over the past half year or so. That, and the fact that we haven't had a real vacation in over four years. Not to mention hotel prices and airline costs are next to nothing right now, and we already have Disney passes from our last trip that we didn't use up. And the library job I interviewed for -- I got the job, and it doesn't start until sometime in 2010! All these facts pretty much made up our minds for us.

Now, as long as my tummy rumblings are cured before the trip, I'll be a happy camper. If not, I'm thinking Depends.

Hallowe'en Is Just A Reflection Of My Daily Life

I took great joy in watching two crows throw our garbage across our lawn last Thursday morning.

Because, as I watched one crow stand on our recycling bin and gingerly pick up one piece of paper after another, and throw it off the side of the box and onto the lawn, the only thing I could think of was my wonderful neighbour coming over as soon as she had a moment and picking up all our garbage so that our lawn would look presentable to her again. And that, my friends, made my day complete.

And then I wondered why the crow was doing that in the first place. The only thing I could think of was that this fine crow had, in fact, a great sense of humour. Subsequently, I wanted to meet this crow and take him out for a drink.

Mr. Handsome (who spent Thursday morning at home recuperating from his workshop, which went quite well) then ran out in his underwear and shouted obscenities at the crows, and my entertainment for the day ended. He's such a spoilsport.

Then I thought that perhaps these crows were there as a sort of omen, as crows are, if you didn't know. You know, trying to tell us something. What, I have no idea. But something for sure. Maybe that Hallowe'en was just around the corner? Maybe that we needed to tidy our front lawn? We'll never know.

My thoughts then fumbled over to my oral French test that I was scheduled to have Friday, for a government job for which I've been in the running for for the past 10 months or so. No, I am not exaggerating. These clerical positions take time to fill, don't you know. They can only choose the best of the best clerks to type forms and answer phones. Yes, I'm getting tired of it all.

So, although I'd been trying to practise my French as much as possible, and listening to French television (which is EXTREMELY strange and utterly borrrrring), I didn't feel ready for it, but I thought I'd be fine. They were, after all, simply trying to assess me. What's the worst they could do? Well, not offer me a job, I suppose.

The test went relatively well, and I should know in a few weeks what my score was. It was actually more stressful getting back to my car afterwards because it was pouring out, and I hadn't brought my umbrella with me, and I refused to get my hair wet because I was having a relatively good hair day, and those days are few and far between, so I grab them with gusto whenever they actually occur.

On a brighter note, Mr. Handsome and I took the gang to a haunted farm on Friday night, and for $19 a head, we could wander through a barn of fright, a field of screams, and a haunted hayride. Of course, Dee refused to participate in anything but the hayride, and that's only because he assumed the hayride was innocuous. HAH! The poor little child. We spent the better part of half an hour holding onto our seats as the tractor sped through dark and scary fields and forests, slowing down so that the odd ghoul and zombie could come at us. I think Dee's scarred for life.


Entering the Land of Never Return...

And then, of course, Halloween happened. This is the first year since Em was born that both Mr. Handsome and I could both stay at home and give out candy together! You could taste the excitement in our home as we looked forward to having a couple of hours of alone time, such as it is, if you can call it that. For some strange reason, we've had less and less kids coming to the door on Halloween the last few years. I was sure this year would be one of those years, mostly because of the H1N1 scare that's surrounding us, and I was right. Only about 15 kids came to the door, and most of them were too old to be trick or treating in the first place.

Em and Dee had fun going out together, which they haven't done together in a few years. This is probably Em's final year trick or treating, although she enjoys dressing up, and the candy (of course). Her costumes are always a hit.



And Dee, I'll never figure out. Because, although he shies away from anything that could even scare him a little bit, he always seems to choose the scariest costume to wear, replete with machetes and knives and lots of blood and gore.



Whatever happened to fairies and butterflies and pretty pink unicorns?

The Long and Short of It

Today's post is chock full of sugar and spice and all things nice.

Not.

Except for, maybe, the part about Mr. Handsome having spent many long hours preparing a big and really important workshop he is holding at the same moment as you read this sentence, and about how wonderful it is that Mr. Handsome is all happy and joyful that his workshop planning has all come together quite well, and he's not even all that nervous about presenting. Because Mr. Handsome works very very hard, and is a perfectionist, and it sure is damn nice if once in a blue moon everything comes together solidly for him and works out all tickety boo like that.

That, and the fact that Mr. Handsome gave yours truly the go-ahead to buy a new dishwasher without any worries about what Mr. Handsome might want or think about said chosen dishwasher. Let me just tell you that this just does not happen.

Oh, and the fact that my interview on Monday went quite well, thank you to everyone who sent me good wishes and vibes and happy rainbow unicorn thoughts. I should know in a couple of weeks whether I am one of The Chosen Ones. I had three librarians face me across a wide table and ask me questions that, surprisingly, I answered without too much of a problem. And, the best part was, I didn't have to run out of the room in the middle of the interview and rush to the toilet to have a Number 7, if you know what I mean, because lo and behold! I am still suffering with the Intestinal Cramping and the Shats, which is now also turning into the Pukes.

And then! Then, I went to the plumbing store with my very dead bathroom faucet, because the plumber (who came to our home on Friday and spent over two hours dealing with our numerous pipe issues) told me to. He told me to tell the plumbing store guy that the faucet's guts (that's what he said, the guts) were dead, and would they be able to replace it, or perhaps replace the entire faucet since it's a Grohe and apparently that company is nice like that. So, I told the plumbing store guy exactly that, and this guy gets on the phone to a Grohe representative, and you know what guys?! They're replacing our faucet FOR FREE!! That's right! I didn't even have to provide a proof of purchase! And as I walked out of the store, I asked myself what is this world coming to, that all these strangely wonderful, pleasant things could actually be happening to ME!

But all that came crashing down to a quick, violent and fiery death when firstly, Em comes home with a gash on the back of her head, her hair all matted with blood, and tells me her friend's tooth went into Em's skull during gym class, and the teacher ignored Em as she stood there, bleeding and almost passing out in class! What.The.Hell? Em's okay, and the cut isn't all that huge, but she did bleed, and she had a bad headache, and --- I still can't get over the fact that the teacher ignored her. And, to put a funny twist on it, which I apparently tend to do, they were in the midst of learning first aid. Go figure.

And then, Dee came home from school, all pouty, which is actually more the norm than not these days, if truth be told. Lately, he's been complaining about a boy in his class who's been giving him a hard time. And I was all Oh no, not this again, because, as you will see here , here, and here, we went through this last year with another boy, and it was not fun. We even had to get the Po Po involved, and you know I don't do that unless it's absolutely necessary. So, now I have to call the school and meet with the principal and the teachers and get this all straightened out because if there's one thing I can't stand, it's having some little punk pick on my son. And, while we're on the subject, I'd just like to know why my son seems to be a target? Is this normal? I have no idea. All I know is I want to keep my son home from school until he can grow a beard.

I'm hoping today is a better day for everyone mentioned, except perhaps Mr. Handsome, because if his day were any better, he'd be pooping rainbows out his butt.