Spooky Times Ahead

I really like Halloween. I have many boxes of decorations. I don't like happy halloween stuff. I don't have inflatables or smiling ghosts or witches. I have a graveyard and cob webs. A cauldron full of bones, strob and black lights.

So I'm putting up the Halloween decorations today and realize that I'm missing a box of bones! Somewhere in that bike shop we call a garage are my special all weather body parts. I placed the grave stones out but I really need those bones to add that special something. I have 2 other boxes of bones but they are the special life like bones that under no circumstances will I allow them to get rained on. So tomorrow I will be back in the garage searching for those bones.

We will add a few carved pumkins, a small dead body and some scary noises and music. I will put on my nun habit (what's halloween without catholic guilt?) and hand out treats to those brave enough to come to the door.

What a great holiday!

A Fairy Tale

Once upon a time there was a prince who slept in the buff. He had a very sensitive behind and would jump up in the middle of the night if he felt anything on the bed, a grain of sand, a hair, a wrinkle in the sheet. This would wake up and annoy the princess as she could sleep on a pile of nails without noticing. Once she slept on a penny all night long and Lincoln's face was embedded in her ass for a long time.

The princess would complain to the prince that he was OCD but he just brushed off his feet and the sheets each and every night. The princess would not brush off her feet and if there was a foreign object in the bed, she would just gently push it over to the prince's side and get to sleep.

One day the princess found an unpopped popcorn kernel and had an idea. She placed this kernel under the 3 inch thick mattress pad exactly where the prince's butt would be when he slept. Then she waited....

For 3 nights the prince tossed and turned and complained that he didn't know why he was having such bad nights. He said it was like he was sleeping on a pile of nails! Being the detective that the prince is, he decided to investigate further. He removed the sheet and lifted the mattress pad and found that kernel. He was like, "AHA!" He knew that was what caused his discomfort. He was so pleased until he realized that kernel didn't crawl under there itself!

Moral: You can tell a true prince by how sensitive his ass is.

He's Got My Vote

This is my Favorite Campaign Video


Fred Runs for President
Have you met Fred yet?

Fun with Kids

My middle school daughter and her BFF went to the high school football game tonight. I was on tap to drive them home after. As I'm driving to pick them up, I realize it's 70's night on the radio! I'm rocking to vintage Elton John, the Bee Gees, etc. It was just like when I was coming home from a HS football game. We stopped home so Nikki could pack up her huge makeup bag and some clothes. As we are driving over to her BFF's, I'm rocking in the car. I'm enjoying 70's deja vu. Good music, our team won. It was like I was 16 again. Nikki and her friend are telling me to stop with the waving of arms and keep both hands on the wheel. We pull up to the stop light and off to the left are the team buses!! Hey! Opportunity is knocking!! I roll down the windows and start woo hooing and wave my arms out the window at the buses! The driver in the front bus opens the door and the team starts cheering, we are all honking! It's a great night in our town.

I turn around to see how the girls are enjoying it since they seem very quiet. They are slunk down in their seats moaning in embarassment.

It was a great night, I love being a mom! I figure in a day or two, Nicole will speak to me again.

Blurtitis or is it Tourettes?

My husband is a nice guy. He does nice things, he says nice things, he thinks nice things. He doesn't get me. If I comment or ask him about a particularly annoying person, he will always find something nice to say about them. It is a gift. It must be something you are born with because it ain't in my jeans or genes.

I asked him today if it was hard for him not to blurt out what he really thought, that he must be suppressing snarky things since I spend most of my day doing just that. I try really hard to keep my thoughts to myself but damn, when something is bugging me or I observe something that absolutely necessitates a comment, I tend to blurt it out. I'm not trying to be cruel, I honestly think I'm funny. Rob says he doesn't have this problem as he doesn't have random opinions shooting around in his head looking for an outlet.

Rob likes to sit close to me, I thought it was because he loves me so much, but I think now it's to censure me. He will flick his finger against my thigh as a warning to SHUT THE FUCK UP! Of course Rob would never say FUCK, I don't think he is capable.

For example: We were at the pool and there was this poor kid who had a large mole in his back that was dark and hairy. I kind of blurted out to my friend, "OMG, he's got a hamster on his back!" It was huge and bushy and I'm sure it caused drag while swimming. Come on parents, at least clip it!! Rob is busy thumping my leg to shut me up, while my friend is rolling off the bleachers laughing. No one but the 3 of us heard it, so what's the problem?

It really hard living with such a nice guy. I try really hard to keep my thoughts in but the voices in my head really need to be let out! It's exhausting trying to be nice when funny things are happening that need to be pointed out. My dad was a funny guy and my mom didn't get him either.

Mom used to say, "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all." My dad said, "If you can't say something nice, just make sure it's funny." But Olympia Dukakis said it best in Steel Magnolias, "If you can't say anything nice about someone, come sit by me!"

It's like Heaven in My Bed!

We got a new bed 4 weeks ago and it is the best bed I have ever had. Last year I was contemplating buying a new bed but all my money was focused on the Wedding. My bed was crap, it was 17 years old, sagging and uncomfortable, I was desperate. My good friend Mary offers up her husband's bachelor days bed that wasn't being used and wasn't very used. (don't anyone comment on used bed issues, I'm plugging my ears/eyes) Although I'm not in favor of bed swapping, I was desperate for a good night's sleep and we gave it a shot. Out went the old and in came the almost new.

It was a pillow top and with the box spring about 9 feet tall. Ok, small exaggeration, but it was tall enough that I had to hop up to get into it. It was more comfortable than my old bed but John must have slept in the very middle, as that was where Rob and I rolled into each night. I don't like to cuddle all night. Rob is Radiator Man and I like to be cooler than 900 degrees when I sleep. So after clinging to the side of the bed every night I'd had enough. The cats liked the bed much more than us and would crawl inside the box spring for fun.

The wedding was over and Rob got called to investigate a homicide! I love homicides, as homicide = overtime! And the prime directive should be in police work: Don't solve the crime, unless it's overtime! At least from my standpoint, I'm not sure his chief would agree. With all this found money, it was off to bed shop. The salesman took us through our paces. He had us lie on different beds to see what we liked. Rob is looking at the prices and I see him thinking, "WTF, we can't afford a good nights sleep" (ok, Rob is not thinking WTF as he doesn't say the F word or even think it! But whatever the nice guy equivalent is.) As it turns out, our middle class bods preferred the low end models just as much as the primo ones. And we bought ourselves a little slice of heaven.

Now when I walk into my room, my heart melts when I think about joys that await me in my bed. HEY!! I'm talking sleep here!!

Those Darn Cats

We currently have 3 cats. I say currently because it is possible that we have more cats but after a couple of years of not coming home for dinner (or for anything else) I figure they have either found a better home or are coyote fodder.

I'm allergic to cats and I don't tell my doctor that I have them as then he might suggest I get rid of them and then my asthma might get a bit better. But after a while the cats don't bother me, I seem to build up immunities and we can live together in harmony.

First we got Bruce Lee. Originally he was named Delphinia but then we found out he was not a she. But he was a handsome black cat with yellow eyes. He did not like to be touched. His skin would ripple if you petted him and he would try to avoid contact with his humans. We decided to get Bruce a friend so that's when Jackie Chan entered our lives. Jackie was the son of the neighborhood bully. His mom was a tiny cat that could send huge labs running for their life. Jackie was a scrappy cat but he was so loving and always gave us nose bumps. Of course my kids didn't think this was enough cats and wanted one more - one for each kid. So that's when we got Jet Li (see a pattern here?) Jet Li was a Sealpoint Siamese. Bruce and Jackie hated him. Poor Jet Li. He was not a fast cat and when he ran, his under belly would swing from side to side. All the other cats used to laugh and call him names... So that was our cat family until one night Jackie insisted that he go out. After an hour of him throwing himself against our bedroom door, I let him out. He never came back....

Then more tragedy struck! Rob was doing archery target practice in the back yard when he missed the target. The stray arrow bounces into my trellis of snap peas when boing! A cat leaps out of the peas and flees under the shed with an arrow in his back. Rob shot Jet Li! and now he can't find him. Rob calls me and says he shot the cat. I said, "what the hell did the cat do?" I had visions of Clint Eastwood and Rob saying, "Make my day". I soon realized that he didn't shoot the cat with his gun. He finally found the cat, took him to the vet who successfully removed the arrow and Jet Li was fine. I like to tell this story to parents when Rob is teaching archery to their kids. But tragedies never just happen twice, do they?

A month before the arrow incident, we got a feisty orange tabby kitten we called Chuck Morris or as we say, Charlie. Charlie was a fun kitten but he liked to eat string and thread. He ate alot of it one day. It messed up his digestive tract big time. Charlie got gastric bypass surgery. He is still going strong but boy, is he a skinny cat!

Shortly after we were recovering from the vet bills, Bruce Lee got sick and died in the hospital of liver failure. We buried him in the back yard while the neighbors watched from the comfort of their new hot tub. That was a big year in vet bills $$$$

So we are down to 2 cats until one fine day Jet Li didn't come home. I'm thinking my success rating with pets is not good. And I keep having to notify King Co Pet Licensing that those cats are now gone.

We had a temp cat for a while when Marcus's cat Tommy needed a place to stay, but Tommy is a tough old cat and didn't play well with Charlie. When Tommy started to spray in my house, Tommy got kicked outside.

After Tommy moved into his own house, we decided to add a kitten to our family so Charlie would have a friend. We went to Animal Control and came home with Figaro and Cleo (they were running a buy one, get one free special). Charlie hated them, I think at first he was afraid of them, then annoyed with them. They seem to be friends now but they all have show downs until someone gives and hands the hierarchy to the winner.





So it's Charlie the skin and bones cat, Cleo the secret eater who looks a beached harbor seal, and Super Fig who strikes a pose like Superman across the floor.

The Agony of Defeat

Is anyone else old enough to remember ABC's Wide World of Sports show? The opening scenes show someone winning ("The thrill of victory") and some schmuck crashing down a snowy hill side (the agony of defeat). I'm that schmuck, ok, not that particular schmuck, but I have experienced that agony of defeat (I also experience agony of da feet but that is due to being incredibly flatfooted, having plantar fasciitis and bone spurs).

I live on the Wet Side of the Mountains in Washington State and winters are wet. We are surrounded by mountains that offer up snow sports but us hugging the Sound, snow days are few (thank god, keep those kids in school!). When we get snow, whole cities close down, we can't cope.

Presidents Day Weekend 1990: Woohoo, it's a winter wonderland and we are ready! We load up our SnoTube (inflatable inner tube with handles for added safety?!?) and we head up to Lower Woodland Park in Seattle. Seattle is like Athens and is built on 7 hills, although somewhere down the line, they plowed down Denny Hill and that area is called by old timers (ah, me, native person) as Denny Regrade. But the problem with inner tubing down city streets is that there are cars and to hit a car would be bad. Example: Slide under front of Mercedes, slice off head, head becomes hood ornament.

So we head to a park. Tons of people are there already, sailing down the hill. They head down and the track that has been made veers off to the left and you gradually slow down. I'm with 1st husband and Brianne who was 8. Like all smart women, I made 1st go first and make sure it was safe. Then Brianne goes and she sails down and left like everyone. Now it's my turn and I start down the hill but I start to spin around. Now I am going backwards and gaining lots of speed. I turn left and I realize that left is now right and I'm heading into a stand of TREES! I turn my head just in time to see the tree that I hit. I don't know how fast I was going but I bounced about 6 feet from the tree and lay on the ground. (btw, the tree was about the size of Redwood and was not harmed by my attempted suicide) From upside down, I can see 1st and Brianne running down to see if I am a live. I had knocked the breath out of me and was gasping as I rolled over to see if I could stand up. I could stand but I was dizzy and my back and head hurt like hell. 1st says, we better go home. I said, we better get to a hospital.

Going to the hospital ER on a holiday weekend is great. Getting there was half the fun, as our hospital is on a hill and the streets are covered in snow. I hoped we all would need to be transported by ambulance after we crashed but we finally made it. There were about 20 people in the waiting room, all looking pretty bad themselves, because why else torture yourself with a 6 hour ordeal at the ER. I'm checking in and the 2 clerks ask me if I need a wheel chair. That's when I realize that there are no identical twins in front of me but that I'm seeing double. I get that wheel chair and I'm moved right past those poor waiting folks. I didn't think I looked that bad, except for the whiteness of my face and tree branches sticking out of my sweater and hair! And the fact I was bent at an angle, think Quasimodo.

By this time, I'm listing to port and can't seem to straighten my back. They send me to xray and the tech there is crabbing at me because I can't boost myself onto the table and she has to get a step stool. I didn't break any ribs or my back but I bruised the hell out of my kidney. Oh yeah, I cracked my skull, hence the double vision from the concussion. They eventually send me home with pain meds (yipee!) and muscle relaxers and instructions to see my regular doctor in a few days.

Now we hadn't been back in Seattle very long and I didn't have a regular doctor, so I called my HMO and they gave me one. About a week after the accident, I'm sitting on the exam table, the doc is done checking out my bruises and asks me if I could be pregnant. Why do you ask? I say. Because you look pregnant to me, says doc. I'm just fat, I say, and I have an IUD. Doc says, I'm taking some blood for a test. Waste of time and lab work, I'm thinking.

2 days later, the doc's office calls and tells me the good news. It's positive! I'm thinking, OMG, this baby is going to be deformed. I've been on pain meds, muscle relaxers and had xrays of my body! And don't forget that IUD. My kid is going to be born looking like a teletubby with this plastic thing embedded in it's skull!

Doc says to stop taking drugs and come on back for an IUD removal. So as I'm in stirrups and they've pulled the useless device, doc says, oh yeah, this might cause you to spontaneously abort the fetus and if it does, can you save what you expel and come right to the office or ER. So for 5 days, I lay in bed hoping not to miscarry. All is well? Nope, now they are concerned that it's ectopic and so now they want to ultrasound to see where it is. Turns out the egg planted itself above the IUD and was nicely settled it.

My little mishap is now 18 years old. I blame everything that he does that annoys me on his father and the fact that I took drugs.

Oh yeah, my whole point to this story is that the Girl Scouts in my town are planning to have an event at one of the passes this winter and everyone will go inner tubing. This is something that my troop will want to do and I'm having anxiety attacks thinking about it. I can't watch the winter Olympics much less people I know sliding down a hill. I'm dizzy just thinking about it.

Appliance Angst

Have you seen the commercial about the washer that stores 6 months of laundry soap in a dispenser? How do they know it's 6 months worth? We do tons of laundry, way more than my sister who lives alone does. So is this based on what the average family does in 6 months? And I want to know how dirty these so called 1.5 kids get. I want he machine that folds it and puts it away.

How come my coffee maker only stays on for 2 hours? I don't drink it that fast and I'm always having to microwave the last few cups because the damn thing shuts off. Ok, so I bought the cheap model, but I'm constantly killing Mr Coffee and I'm not going to burn out an expensive one.

Why doesn't my toaster toast the same every time? I can toast 2 slices and then put in 2 more and these are always darker than the first pieces. Ok, cheap model here too....maybe a pattern?

Why does my vacuumn cleaner make weird noises but I can never figure out what it is? And why does it smell like the belt's burning but when I take it apart, I can't find anything and it's fine when I put it back together?

And why oh why, does my toilet only keep running when I don't stay and wait to see if it will run but it won't keep running if I wait?

How come 5 minutes of sex seems like a blink of the eye but 5 minutes in the microwave is forever when you're hungry?

Informal Election Poll

My son will vote in his first Presidential Election this year. He just turned 18 and he seems enthused to participate in the election.

We don't discuss politics at our house much. Rob never does, not even to me and I try not to as it really is a personal choice. Besides, it's no fun when he won't respond. He won't even watch the SNL skits. He probably won't find this picture funny.

So I was out the other day with a group of female voters and I asked them why they are voting for their candidate.

Here are some of the responses to this very informal poll:

"My friend told me to"

"I think he is cuter than the other guy"

"She dresses nice but I didn't like her speech"

"I don't know, I just pick somebody"

"I don't care, so I'm not voting"

"I liked what she said she would do for us"

"That one guy made lots of promises, so that's why I like him"

I wish I could have gotten more responses but the recess bell rang and I had to leave.
Of yeah, these were 3rd and 4th grade school girls talking about their student body officers election.

I saw posters of the guys who were in the running, one was pretty cute for a 6th grader. I didn't see the girl but I'd heard that she had an early lead.

Moss

Most people in our neighborhood have really great lawns. Trimmed, weeded, beautiful green color. I have a yard that is sometimes green, sometimes yellow and sometimes orange. Yes that is the color that moss gets when it gets too dry. Since we live in the wet side of Washington State, the yard is usually swampy and green. I don't mind the moss. It's soft under the feet. It doesn't get tall. Occasionally grass will spring up between the moss and we have to mow and weeds do grow in moss too. But all in all I like my moss yard. But I don't like moss where it doesn't belong!

In the spring I asked Rob to do something about the moss on the roof. On the north side of my house the roof is green. Elswhere it is brown. I like green, my house is green, but I really liked that the roof was Brown. All spring and summer, I mentioned that the roof still needed to be treated for moss and even offered up Aaron to help as he is always looking for jobs that will keep him in gas money. But it never got done. There was always something else to do, and if the weather was really nice, there was always a bike ride. When the weather sucked, it was too wet to get on the roof, so now it is fall and the roof is coming in greener than ever.

Then there is the driveway. Every day the moss patch is growing. It's like some alien blob that will creep over until everything is covered. I doubt that Rob has noticed the moss, he hasn't noticed the roof moss either. What will probably happen, is that I will call someone to come treat my roof and driveway to remove the moss, and then months later Rob will say, "didn't you want me to get rid of the moss?" And I'll say, "what moss??"

Saving your Thoughts

Do you ever have blog moments? You know when something happens or you have a random thought or idea that would make an awesome blog but you are driving or leading a meeting and it's just not the time to make a note to yourself so you can blog later. At a meeting, you can prehaps write a note to self as long as it's not onthe flip chart you are using and then causes some confusion when you write "penal implants" on the board when you are talking about leading a Girl Scout troop. And when you are driving, it's even harder, as texting while driving is considered illegal in Washington State and even if you turn to the cruise control and use your knees to steer, it can be distracting. I have lost my train of thought too often so I'm going to get one of those "As Seen on TV" My Lil' Reminder recording devices. I could attach it to the dashboard, it's only got one button to push to record and all my great thoughts would never be lost again.

Of course this wouldn't work at meetings, as you still wouldn't want to blurt out "penal implants" in front of a group, unless you explained before hand about your tourettes issue.

Girl Scout Cookies

When I was about 9 years old, my Girl Scout troop took a field trip to the Grandma's Cookies plant near the Seattle Center. I was so excited (yes, I loved cookies then too) because this was the place that made Girl Scout Cookies. When I was a kid, they only had a couple of varieties of cookies and Thin Mints were my favorite. We got to the plant and they took us on a tour. We saw the huge oven and conveyor belts that moved everything along. They were making THIN MINTS! I was in heaven. We saw the chocolate cookies come down the line. They were baked, then cooled. A dollop of creamy white mint was dropped into the center of each cookie and then they got a bath of dark chocolate. I could hardly contain my excitement as they told us we got a free package of cookies at the end of the tour. My mouth was salivating as we neared the end and got handed a package of Coconut Macaroons. WTF! I'm sure they weren't allowed to give away Girl Scout cookies but I was a kid, what did I know? I took my cookies and did not tear into them like all the other girls as I hate coconut. I hate how it smells, I hate how it tastes and I hate the texture of it in my mouth.

Girl Scout Cookies are no longer made my Grandma's Cookies in Seattle. GSUSA has licensed a couple of bakeries to make their cookies. So that means that all Girl Scout Cookies are not the same. Every year the Girl Scouts work with the bakeries to shake things up and they change the line up of cookies. The old favorites are there but they have 3 kinds that they are always messing with. Almost every year they bring out 1 or 2 new cookies. This year they have a new cookie "Dulce de Leche", a caramel cookie. Now I can't pronounce this cookie so how are my 1st graders going to? And to add insult to injury, they got rid of All Abouts! I love All Abouts, the shortbread cookie that had a chocolate layer on the bottom. There were perfect for making s'mores.

Of course my freezer is full of Girl Scout cookies and we drag a box out now and then and then add cases more each spring. Once I found a box of cookies in the freezer, Thin Mints, and figure out they had been in there 5 years. Did I mention that frozen Thin Mints, although they no longer have that creamy layer of mint, still Rock, even after 5 years.

The Cats are Revolting

It's 2:50am and I'm up blogging as I can't sleep. Insomnia? No, Cats. The cats have decided that 1am is the prefect time to let us know that they want to go out. How do I know they want this? Because they sit outside my bedroom door and scratch and meow and bang and god knows what else. I keep poking Rob to let him know that the Cats are revolting and what is he going to do about it but he just intones, "It's too early to let the Cats out." So I get up and come down stairs to try and convince the Cats that I am in charge and that they are not going out.

Why can't the Cats go out, you may be asking? (or not) Because the last time I let a Cat out in the middle of the night, that was the last time we saw that Cat. That was Jackie Chan. Jackie was the most loving Cat in the world and the biggest bully to anything out doors. I figure there was something out there that he wanted to beat up and he lost.

Currently we have had a gang, yes a gang, of raccoons who have been hanging out at our house. They like to party under our deck (yes, we have a big deck, it's a guy thing). This gang of coons might decide to rumble with my Cats and I just don't like dead Cats.

So here I sit, reading and typing and jumping. I jump because Charlie has this trick of sneaking up behind you and poking you with his claw to let you know that he wants out. Figaro will stand at the back door and scratch at the glass door non stop until your head explodes. Cleo just wanders around looking worried (she always looks worried). Charlie and Fig have now started the rounds of distruction. They will scratch on furniture, lay on the mantel, hang from the curtains, until they have irritated you to the point that you say, fuck it, they can go out. I'm about at that point now.

The Cats in the Bag (ok, it was a box)

Last night Rob and I started Operation Cat Nab. We synchronized our watches (ok, my watch, his PDA). Made our check list

1) Cat Carriers at the ready.
2) All upstairs doors secured.
3) First Aid Kit handy.
4) Tranquilizer gun ready.

This morning we played it very nonchalantly. No mention of a trip to the vet. Nothing we said should have given them a clue. We just said stuff like, "We are going to stay home all day" "Not going out at all"

But they knew, they always know. Rob was up early. He checked the weather. Yes, RAIN!! He feeds the cat and lets them out. Fig doesn't mind the rain, but Cleo and Charlie are fair weather cats. It's not long before Cleo and Charlie are wanting back in. The time is drawing nearer and we are still playing it cool. I'm reading the paper and Charlie comes over and says, "hey! I want to go out, NOW!" I said, "oh my little man, I think you should stay out of the rain." Charlie says, "Bitch, I know what is up and you can't make me, I can remove body parts with these claws." He then starts pacing in front of the back door, giving me the evil eye. Cleo of course, is looking worried (she always looks worried). She heads upstairs and stands by Nik's door (which is secure), she frantically looks around for an escape hatch. While I'm getting dressed, Rob snags Charlie, just about gets him into the box, when he escapes. Aaron helps and Charlie is ready to go. Rob chases Cleo down and although she tries to get by, it's Cats 0, Humans 2!

All the way to the vet, it's the cat chorus and Cleo is the lead singer. That cat can wail! But all is well in Cat World. All cats vaccinated until next year.

No Cats were harmed in the making of this post.

Life can be SHIT (graphic)

This post is about Shit. Who gives a Shit? I had a Shitty day. Ah Shit! Shit happens. See how Shit is everywhere?

When my kids got out of diapers I thought I was pretty much done with Shit. At least I would be able to keep my Shit to myself. But then I hit 50 and Shit became important again. Colon screening is now a part of life.

A couple weeks ago, my doctor hands me an envelope with these cute little cards with a hinged cover. Under the cover were 2 boxes for smear samples. Also include were special papers and sticks. These are Pooh sticks. Of course the only Pooh sticks in my life before were the ones you drop off a bridge and watch float down a stream. So ever a rule follower, I read the directions and prepare for 3 days of Shit.

Day one, I flush as instructed, place special paper in toilet and do my business. The paper is suppose to help float your Shit in the toilet out of the water so you can take your sample with your Pooh stick. Every other day of my life, my Shit floats and it takes a day of flushing to get that sucker down. Not today, Shit sinks to the bottom and I put my Pooh stick away until the urge hits again.

Day 2, well, really Day 1 again. This time I turn to Glad and use a nice disposable container. I get my sample with my Pooh stick. Clean up the mess. The next 2 days run smooth. And yes, I did dispose of the Glad ware.

After I turn in my samples, I get the results and everything looks fine. This news prompts Dr. S to order more tests because you just don't know what kind of evil lurks in your ass until you can get someone to poke around in there. I had just taken Rob in for a colonoscopy, so I knew the drill, drink the drano, they knock you loopy and smile, you're on candid camera. But that's too easy for me, I get to have a flexible sigmoidoscopy. Since this is a minimally invasive procedure, joy of joys, I don't have to drink the drano, I get to self administer an enema. 3 enemas set an hour apart, then off to get my colon scoped.

The day before my Shitty day, I get a phone message from my HMO. The machine cuts off so I don't get the message. I call back and I can't find anyone to tell me why they called. No one calls back, I figure it's just the curtsy call reminding me of my appointment.

Today, Shit day, I prep my room for possible disasters, covering my new bed to protect it from leakage. I consider covering the wall in direct line to where my ass will be facing and perhaps the ceiling in case of projectile Shit. This has happened to me before. My lovely mother, may she rest in peace, was a firm believer in an active bowel was a happy bowel. She was always asking me and my sister if we had gone Shit that day. If we hadn't, we were on Shit alert. After 2 days, it was time for mom to get the Shit out. She would fill the enema bag with warm soapy water, hang if from the shower curtain rod and have me remove my pants and lean into the tub. Next was the Vaseline and then the nozzle was inserted. Sounds like something out of Sybil but it did it's job. One time, mom had to leave the room right after the enema flowed. I can't remember if it was the door or the phone, but she left me leaned over the tub and instructed me to stay there and she would be right back. She didn't come right back. I'm sure I tried to keep the Shit it. But that day the Shit hit the fan, and the walls, and just about everywhere. Shit Happens.

So my room is all prepped. I've read the instructions, I checked out the cute pictures of how to and how long to hold it. It was not a pretty sight. I was not able to hold it in the required 5-10 minutes. About the 3 minute mark, I'm thinking that I really should have covered the walls and ceiling. I roll off the bed and head the few feet to my bathroom. I left a trail and I'll be mopping and using Resolve for days. I wait an hour and try it again. This time it's even shorter but I make it to the bathroom without incident. Great only 1 more to go, when the phone rings. It's the doctor's office wanting to know if I got the message that my appointment needs to be rescheduled. I laugh hysterically and explain how far along I am in my preparations. The nurse is very nice and says that they will waive my co-pay to make up for the inconvenience and asks when would I like to reschedule. She did say the purging one's bowels was healthy so it wasn't a total waste. I have only one thing to say - Bull Shit!