Before I share a few other things I love, let's pause for something aggravating: Ed came home from college Friday evening, coughing and congested. He sounded awful. Why did he not call and make an appointment at the doc on Saturday? Well, college kids sleep late and it just wasn't a priority. *Sigh* He went to a minute clinic Sunday. The doc told him to try Flonase and Zyrtec. What.On.Earth. I was fired up. He'd had a cough for over 2 weeks. Hello?
I'm not a doctor, but I know a thing or two.
Monday: he visited our real family doctor. The doc ordered a chest x-ray and a covid test. Covid -negative. *Drumroll*
Chest x-ray showed PNUEMONIA. He has walking pneumonia, guys.
This morning, I'll be giving the minute clinic a jingle to make them aware of their big MISS. Ed admitted that the doc only listened to his chest for a nanosecond, in one spot. What? He'll be fine, but sheesh. Pay attention, doc.
NO MORE READERS (as in glasses). Did I get your attention while I was shouting? I couldn't help it, it's just THAT EXCITING. I saw my eye doc in the spring. I can't believe I've been too swamped to tell you of this life-changing-for-me event.
I wanted to avoid reading glasses. She said I'd know right away if these contact lenses would work or not. She wasn't kidding. I'd heard some people say that wearing one contact for distance and one for reading (I think that's the breakdown, but don't quote me) made them nauseous. How amazing that
I, THE QUEEN OF EASILY SQUEAMISH, DIDN'T FEEL GROSSED OUT.
Can I get a round of applause?
Well, there was one icky part. I drove Curly to dancing after my appt. I was wearing the sample pair. The doc told me to try them for a week before ordering. I was falling asleep on my drive home. I dragged myself inside and fell asleep on the couch in the study for HOURS. When I went to bed later that night, I couldn't get the contact out of my left eye. I scratched away at my own eye like I had some secret mission of permanently blinding myself. *Gag.* Everyone else was in bed. I finally gave up and decided to sleep with it in.
The next morning, I called Becky, my babysitting, partner-in-crime friend. She told me to come over, "I'M GOOD AT GETTING OTHER PEOPLE'S CONTACTS OUT." I managed not to hurl on myself when she told me this fun fact. (see: squeamish). Lad didn't have to be at work yet, so he stayed with the babies and I drove to Becky's house where I braced myself to have her scrape this rogue lens out of my eye. Except . . . it wasn't in there. I've never lost a contact lens. What the heck? Did it pop out when I was sleeping on the couch? No clue, but after a few attempts, Becky was like: YOU CAN'T GET IT OUT BECAUSE IT ISN'T EVEN IN THERE.
My distance vision isn't the best since I've switched to these new contacts, and since they were so brand-spanking-new I still wasn't adjusted to this new way of seeing. It wasn't clear to me that I only had in my one distance lens and nothing in the other.
BASKETBALL SEASON IS UPON US:
I love basketball season, even though (or maybe because) it's exhausting and crazy busy. Reg and Mini play varsity ball in high school. Curly just wrapped up her junior high school 8th grade season, but she plays travel as well.
Because of travel ball, basketball never really ends here. It just ramps up a bit when all three kids who live at home play and we have three teams to track. I just completed my dry erase board calendar and WHOA MAMA, it's gonna be nutty.
Reggie, our sophomore, is obsessed with basketball. Understatement. The coach, who is new this year, became familiar with Reg when he played for the high school team's summer league. On the first day of tryouts, the coach yelled to all the kids shooting around warming up in the gym:
IF YOU'RE A FRESHMAN OR A SOPHOMORE
AND YOUR LAST NAME ISN'T SHENANIGAN,
GET OUTTA MY TROUTS. YOU CAN TRYOUT FOR THE FRESHMAN OR THE SOPHOMRE TEAM. NOT VARSITY.
Well, if you get that my brothers were athletic and that was a HUGE focus when I was a kid and my attempt at being athletic was laughed at*, then you might appreciate this moment as PURE GOLD.
- Laddie played division 1 water polo. My dad, who loves to travel, never attended one of his college games.
- My brothers' sons are not on track to play high school sports, let alone college sports.
(Of course not playing sports is fine and all and my nieces and nephews are great at a variety of things, don't get me wrong - sports is not everyone's thing, but my brothers, especially Pat, have always been very in-my-face about their athleticism and sporty successes, so my kids doing good at sports feels BIG. I don't rub it in my brothers' faces, and we make lots of effort to keep Reg humble, so he doesn't know that I went in another room and did cartwheels, sloppy ones because unathletic and all, when I heard what his coach said).
* My freshman year in high school, when I tried out for the basketball team, the skies opened and a weird light shone down on me during tryouts and I played like I'd been on the Globetrotters for years. It was a freaky few hours. I made the team and proceeded to suck all season. My folks and my brothers imitated my 'moves' at the dinner table for laughs. I scored one free throw, my only point, towards the end of the season and the entire bench rushed the court to congratulate me. The ref was super confused.
Not intending to brag, but since none of you have kids in Reg's school, I figure I can share this in a non-boasty or in a secluded boasty way and we can all celebrate my glossed-over-childhood-morphing-into-an-underdog-OH-YEAH-mom moment.
Reg did roll his ankle in the very first practice of the season, so he sat out tonight's 1st game, but rest assured we have the best and most invested physical therapist ON IT.
Good friends are hard to find. How many of you have a friend who would agree to use her fingernails to grab at your non-existent contact lens? I for one, because of previously mentioned issues, would never be able to do that for a friend. But I do bake up a storm.
My next installment, may or may not happen tomorrow. I'm cooking Thursday (for our 8 only). The only day I babysit this week is today (Tuesday) so it will depend.
Oh, and Curly dances in Midwest championships on Friday, near home. Good vibes are appreciated. I'm sure she'll do great and I should mention my other thing I am about to embrace/LOVE, if
is true . . .
THIS MIGHT BE OUR LAST IRISH DANCING COMPETITION.
She thinks she's 'bout done (more later, as if you doubted that I would forget to fill you in). That's me you hear, softly sobbing . . . tears of joy.
Speaking of winding down, how did this post get so stinking long? In case no one helps me in the kitchen and I don't get back here to post again this week, Happy Turkey day, or regular Thursday if you aren't from these here parts. I'm thankful for my wonderful, supportive, and willing-to-comment(-or-not) readers (wink, wink).