I don't always read the Police Blotter, but I think it's good to stay up to date on the goings on in your town. Plus, you want to know what criminals are stealing these days:
A pair of earrings and a bottle of lotion were reported stolen from 6243 Woodmere Blvd., Sunday afternoon.
Someone stole 17 bags of sugar from a service station in the 900 block of W. South Blvd., at 12:38 a.m. Sunday
I get the earrings, but a bottle of lotion and 17 BAGS OF SUGAR.
What?
Monday, December 22, 2008
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
Holiday Cheer
The last time I was with my brother he turned to me and said, "I have no idea how to deal with in-laws. What are the rules?"
I replied, "The first rule of in-laws is you don't talk about the in-laws."
Yes, it's an old joke but it's true.
One has to be careful when it comes to in-laws. I think as a general rule you shouldn't initiate any discussion about your in-laws unless your partner introduces the conversation. Even then you have to tread carefully.
You don't just hop in the car after a family dinner and say, "Man, you're sister's kind of a bitch isn't she?"
You save that for your rage diary.
No. You hop in the car and say, "Dinner was really good wasn't it?"
If say, your partner turns to you and says, "It was good. Hey, did you notice anything about _______?"
You ask, "Like what?"
Then he's free to elaborate and you can comment, but only on the issues he brings up.
Don't try to add in your own colorful observations.
Apply these rules to any in-law: mothers, cousins, brothers, sisters . . .
However, if your partner's sibling wields a knife at you, or your mother-in-law flat out accuses you of being a snob then have your partner hold you back and let you go when they least expect it.
I replied, "The first rule of in-laws is you don't talk about the in-laws."
Yes, it's an old joke but it's true.
One has to be careful when it comes to in-laws. I think as a general rule you shouldn't initiate any discussion about your in-laws unless your partner introduces the conversation. Even then you have to tread carefully.
You don't just hop in the car after a family dinner and say, "Man, you're sister's kind of a bitch isn't she?"
You save that for your rage diary.
No. You hop in the car and say, "Dinner was really good wasn't it?"
If say, your partner turns to you and says, "It was good. Hey, did you notice anything about _______?"
You ask, "Like what?"
Then he's free to elaborate and you can comment, but only on the issues he brings up.
Don't try to add in your own colorful observations.
Apply these rules to any in-law: mothers, cousins, brothers, sisters . . .
However, if your partner's sibling wields a knife at you, or your mother-in-law flat out accuses you of being a snob then have your partner hold you back and let you go when they least expect it.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Thrift Store Find
After having spent two hours on this guy's website last night, I got inspired to do a little thrifting of my own.
I now have my own Betty Draper.
She's a 1950s Napco Head Vase and she's not perfect (one earring is missing and part of her bow is broken off), but neither is Betty.
I got also found a six-piece bar set for $1 that includes stainless swizzle sticks and a spear for digging up that last olive out of the jar. They are very plain in design, but exactly what I've been looking for to stir my Sunday morning Bloody Mary.
I now have my own Betty Draper.
She's a 1950s Napco Head Vase and she's not perfect (one earring is missing and part of her bow is broken off), but neither is Betty.
I got also found a six-piece bar set for $1 that includes stainless swizzle sticks and a spear for digging up that last olive out of the jar. They are very plain in design, but exactly what I've been looking for to stir my Sunday morning Bloody Mary.
Thank You
Big thanks to everyone who donated to the Montgomery Humane Society Walk-n-Wag! You helped me raise $160 online and in these tough economic times that really means a lot. My co-workers were also generous as well as some friends and neighbors, and I raised a grand total of $280!
There were booths filled with pet products and there were some large dogs.
There were also some small dogs.
Some dogs wore costumes.
Dean made a new friend.
Max made a new friend, too.
We had a great time and all of the excitement wore us out.
There were booths filled with pet products and there were some large dogs.
There were also some small dogs.
Some dogs wore costumes.
Dean made a new friend.
Max made a new friend, too.
We had a great time and all of the excitement wore us out.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Please Help Support the Montgomery Humane Society
Max, Dean Martin and I are participating in this year’s Walk-n-Wag. The Walk-N-Wag is a fundraiser that benefits the Montgomery Humane Society.
What some of you may not know is that Dean Martin is a rescue dog.
Sure, Dean is living the high life now but not all dogs are that lucky.
This is why I’m asking you to support my efforts by making a pledge to the Montgomery Humane society.
I’ve even made it really easy.
Follow this link to the MHS Walk-n-Wag website.
Under Give a Donation select my name: Melissa Martinez.
The following page allows you to type in whatever amount of money your comfortable donating.
Click Continue.
The following message will appear.
Click Continue to PayPal.
Your PayPal Shopping Cart will appear to confirm your payment.
Click Proceed to Checkout.
The Pay with Credit Card Page will appear.
On the Pay with Credit Card page, provide the following information.
1. County
2. First Name
3. Last Name
4. Credit Card Number
5. Payment Type
6. Expiration Date
7. CSC: For your safety and security, PayPal requires that you enter your card's verification number. The verification number is a 3-digit number printed on the back of your card. It appears after and to the right of your card number.
8. City
9. State
10. Zip code
11. Home Telephone Number
12. Email
Click Review Order and Continue.
PayPal will provide you with a final screen that will confirm your donation.
If you have trouble completing your online donation please contact Lea Turbert with the Montgomery Humane Society at 334-409-0622.
Follow-Up:Has anyone actually donated anything? Nothing is showing up under my pledges with the Humane Society. I'm asking because if you are donating under my name: Melissa Martinez and it's not showing up then I need to contact the Humane Society.
Thanks!
What some of you may not know is that Dean Martin is a rescue dog.
Sure, Dean is living the high life now but not all dogs are that lucky.
This is why I’m asking you to support my efforts by making a pledge to the Montgomery Humane society.
I’ve even made it really easy.
Follow this link to the MHS Walk-n-Wag website.
Under Give a Donation select my name: Melissa Martinez.
The following page allows you to type in whatever amount of money your comfortable donating.
Click Continue.
The following message will appear.
Click Continue to PayPal.
Your PayPal Shopping Cart will appear to confirm your payment.
Click Proceed to Checkout.
The Pay with Credit Card Page will appear.
On the Pay with Credit Card page, provide the following information.
1. County
2. First Name
3. Last Name
4. Credit Card Number
5. Payment Type
6. Expiration Date
7. CSC: For your safety and security, PayPal requires that you enter your card's verification number. The verification number is a 3-digit number printed on the back of your card. It appears after and to the right of your card number.
8. City
9. State
10. Zip code
11. Home Telephone Number
12. Email
Click Review Order and Continue.
PayPal will provide you with a final screen that will confirm your donation.
If you have trouble completing your online donation please contact Lea Turbert with the Montgomery Humane Society at 334-409-0622.
Follow-Up:Has anyone actually donated anything? Nothing is showing up under my pledges with the Humane Society. I'm asking because if you are donating under my name: Melissa Martinez and it's not showing up then I need to contact the Humane Society.
Thanks!
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
A Conversation Between Siblings
Scene: On the phone with my brother shortly after watching an episode of the L-Word.
Note: We watch a lot of the same shows and then caucus afterwards.
Carlos: I could never be a lesbian.
Melissa: Oh I know, me neither. Women are crazy!
Carlos: It's not just that . . . it's so much work.
Melissa: Hee, you're totally a lazy bottom.
Carlos: Well, so are you.
Melissa: True, plus I have this whole carpal tunnel thing . . .
Carlos: Pfft, whatever.
Melissa: Well, yeah. Plus, you know, eating pussy . . .
Carlos: OH - don't EVEN go there.
Melissa: I know, right.
Note: We watch a lot of the same shows and then caucus afterwards.
Carlos: I could never be a lesbian.
Melissa: Oh I know, me neither. Women are crazy!
Carlos: It's not just that . . . it's so much work.
Melissa: Hee, you're totally a lazy bottom.
Carlos: Well, so are you.
Melissa: True, plus I have this whole carpal tunnel thing . . .
Carlos: Pfft, whatever.
Melissa: Well, yeah. Plus, you know, eating pussy . . .
Carlos: OH - don't EVEN go there.
Melissa: I know, right.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Philadelphia
It's amazing to me how much the movie Philadelphia still affects me. Mostly it's Tom Hanks' portrayal of the main character, Andy and Jonathan Demme's decisions as a director.
My favorite scene is the one right after Denzel Washington's character turns down the opportunity to represent Andy. Jonathan Demme slowly zooms in on Andy's face and Hanks goes through a bunch of different emotions in about five seconds. There's Andy standing in a doorway on a cold Philadelphia day and he's just been turned down by the 10th lawyer he's visited.
He's cold, frustrated, sad, alone, crestfallen, broken . . . and it's all there in Hanks' face. No tears, no teeth gnashing . . . and thankfully, no wailing at the heavens with open arms. I applaud Hanks and Demme for for approaching that scene and the character with dignity.
There is one think I really don't like and it's the way Washington's homophobia is handled. I get that we have to see his transformation from scared homophobe to understanding advocate, but do we have to keep hearing how much he hates gay men, how they make him sick and that what they "do" makes him sick.
There's a reason Atticus Finch never says, "Look, I don't like niggers either but the fact of the matter is a law's been broken here."
It's unnecessary.
I've never self-identified as a homophobe. From the start of the movie I rooted for Andy, so this movie breaks my heart in a million different pieces for a million different reasons.
The main reason though?
I remember this:
Every time I see this:
My favorite scene is the one right after Denzel Washington's character turns down the opportunity to represent Andy. Jonathan Demme slowly zooms in on Andy's face and Hanks goes through a bunch of different emotions in about five seconds. There's Andy standing in a doorway on a cold Philadelphia day and he's just been turned down by the 10th lawyer he's visited.
He's cold, frustrated, sad, alone, crestfallen, broken . . . and it's all there in Hanks' face. No tears, no teeth gnashing . . . and thankfully, no wailing at the heavens with open arms. I applaud Hanks and Demme for for approaching that scene and the character with dignity.
There is one think I really don't like and it's the way Washington's homophobia is handled. I get that we have to see his transformation from scared homophobe to understanding advocate, but do we have to keep hearing how much he hates gay men, how they make him sick and that what they "do" makes him sick.
There's a reason Atticus Finch never says, "Look, I don't like niggers either but the fact of the matter is a law's been broken here."
It's unnecessary.
I've never self-identified as a homophobe. From the start of the movie I rooted for Andy, so this movie breaks my heart in a million different pieces for a million different reasons.
The main reason though?
I remember this:
Every time I see this:
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Moment from a Marriage
Scene: Steve and I are standing in the living room having just rolled up the area rug that has been in there for six months.
Me: Baby, why does the floor look so dark right here?
Steve: Where ...
Me (Pointing with my right foot): Here.
Steve: Where ...
Me (Sighing): Well, here . . . (Tracing the area THAT IS CLEARLY VISIBLE with my foot).
Steve, now annoyed: Well, where ...
Me, now visibly annoyed: Seriously, do you not see this?
Steve, smirking: W.E.A.R.
Me, slackjawed: Oh.
Me: Baby, why does the floor look so dark right here?
Steve: Where ...
Me (Pointing with my right foot): Here.
Steve: Where ...
Me (Sighing): Well, here . . . (Tracing the area THAT IS CLEARLY VISIBLE with my foot).
Steve, now annoyed: Well, where ...
Me, now visibly annoyed: Seriously, do you not see this?
Steve, smirking: W.E.A.R.
Me, slackjawed: Oh.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Say A Little Prayer
On Friday, August 29th Steve and I celebrated our three-year anniversary of homeownership.
My parents, however, remember August 29, 2005 as the day Katrina hit. This year all any of us can do is shake our heads as we watch computer modules showing Hurricane Gustav and his New Orleans or Bust sign.
My family will evacuate on Sunday, tomorrow. My brother is heading to Atlanta to be with his partner and his family. My parents and in-laws are heading to Montgomery. I know that my loved ones will be out of the path of Gustav, but I'm still worried about their stuff.
My in-laws weathered Katrina with hardly a scratch. The water stopped one inch before their doorways. My parents however got two feet of water. I know it's just stuff, but my mom just finished her house thanks to Katrina.
She was finally feeling like she lived in a home and not a construction site. I hope that they are spared the worst of it. I know that my mom is strong, but I'd hate to see her go through living in a trailer again. She put a happy face on things, but I know she felt out of sorts.
Since Katrina they've jacked the house up a good four feet so we're all hoping flood waters won't be a problem, but you just never know. They also got fancy new hurricane grade windows so I guess we'll get to see how well those work. My mom said she scoped out the trees around her house and they were all leaning "away" so I've got my fingers crossed.
If you're religious, say a little prayer for them. If you're not religious then send good vibes or whatever.
My parents, however, remember August 29, 2005 as the day Katrina hit. This year all any of us can do is shake our heads as we watch computer modules showing Hurricane Gustav and his New Orleans or Bust sign.
My family will evacuate on Sunday, tomorrow. My brother is heading to Atlanta to be with his partner and his family. My parents and in-laws are heading to Montgomery. I know that my loved ones will be out of the path of Gustav, but I'm still worried about their stuff.
My in-laws weathered Katrina with hardly a scratch. The water stopped one inch before their doorways. My parents however got two feet of water. I know it's just stuff, but my mom just finished her house thanks to Katrina.
She was finally feeling like she lived in a home and not a construction site. I hope that they are spared the worst of it. I know that my mom is strong, but I'd hate to see her go through living in a trailer again. She put a happy face on things, but I know she felt out of sorts.
Since Katrina they've jacked the house up a good four feet so we're all hoping flood waters won't be a problem, but you just never know. They also got fancy new hurricane grade windows so I guess we'll get to see how well those work. My mom said she scoped out the trees around her house and they were all leaning "away" so I've got my fingers crossed.
If you're religious, say a little prayer for them. If you're not religious then send good vibes or whatever.
Monday, July 07, 2008
Sexual Fluidity
Just assume that anytime I refer to a conversation between my brother and I that it was recent and on the phone. We talk a lot.
Anyway, we got on the subject of sexual preference. We were discussing "queer by beer" and girls kissing girls for attention. I think we finally worked our way to the more conventional gay and bi labels.
See, we do talk about more than just Tyra, The View and Swingtown.
Very casually he mentioned that he thought today those definitions were prehaps too confining and that the younger generation (high school and college students I presume) see sexuality as more fluid.
In other words: Bi Now, Gay Later . . . Maybe not.
I get what he's saying, but there's a part of me that worries about this new label because I fear it gives credence to those who believe being gay is indeed a choice.
It would be easier to argue that if sexuality is indeed fluid then you have the power to change the tide.
Let me just add that I don't think one chooses to be straight, gay or bi.
Am I wrong?
Anyway, we got on the subject of sexual preference. We were discussing "queer by beer" and girls kissing girls for attention. I think we finally worked our way to the more conventional gay and bi labels.
See, we do talk about more than just Tyra, The View and Swingtown.
Very casually he mentioned that he thought today those definitions were prehaps too confining and that the younger generation (high school and college students I presume) see sexuality as more fluid.
In other words: Bi Now, Gay Later . . . Maybe not.
I get what he's saying, but there's a part of me that worries about this new label because I fear it gives credence to those who believe being gay is indeed a choice.
It would be easier to argue that if sexuality is indeed fluid then you have the power to change the tide.
Let me just add that I don't think one chooses to be straight, gay or bi.
Am I wrong?
Thursday, June 19, 2008
I Am So Ashamed
When I was a kid I had a lot of celebrity crushes. The other day I was flipping channels and I came across this:
When I was 11 I thought this movie was awesome! The other day I could only watch 5 minutes of it because it was so awful, but damn I loved me some Jason Gedrick. (Poor Lou Gossett Jr. To this day when I see him in a movie I internally shout "CHAPPY!")
I'll admit I still nurse a crush on Jason Gedrick. Does anyone even remember Windfall?
It was a crappy show and the fact that Luke Perry was cast in it should have been my warning, but the Gedrick magic still has its influence.
I was so excited when he turned up on Desperate Housewives.
I realize I probably still sound like an 11-year-old girl, but that really doesn't surprise me. My favorite shows? Degrassi: The Next Generation, Gossip Girl . . . oh and you can bet your ass I'll be watching the new incarnation of 90210. HELLO . . . Darcy from D:TNG is playing the Brenda-like character. Those are some big bangs to fill.
When I was 11 I thought this movie was awesome! The other day I could only watch 5 minutes of it because it was so awful, but damn I loved me some Jason Gedrick. (Poor Lou Gossett Jr. To this day when I see him in a movie I internally shout "CHAPPY!")
I'll admit I still nurse a crush on Jason Gedrick. Does anyone even remember Windfall?
It was a crappy show and the fact that Luke Perry was cast in it should have been my warning, but the Gedrick magic still has its influence.
I was so excited when he turned up on Desperate Housewives.
I realize I probably still sound like an 11-year-old girl, but that really doesn't surprise me. My favorite shows? Degrassi: The Next Generation, Gossip Girl . . . oh and you can bet your ass I'll be watching the new incarnation of 90210. HELLO . . . Darcy from D:TNG is playing the Brenda-like character. Those are some big bangs to fill.
Sunday, June 01, 2008
Lazy Blogger
The other night my brother gave me a hard time for not updating my blog.
He is completely right, but a lot of times I just don't have much to say. Right now I'm sitting in my living room watching Evening.
One quick side note: what must it be like to be Claire Danes? To have casting directors sit back and say, "We need a woman beautiful enough to make all the men in this movie thow out all reason. We need Claire Danes."
I've got a really gross cold right now so a Sunday afternoon with a chick flick on, even a mediocre one, seems perfect.
I hate summer colds. In the winter you can bundle up and drink hot tea and steaming soup, but in the summer a cold is just a nuisance. It's hot out, your nose is runny and you're sweating and it's just blegh!
In other news, we are currently enjoying all our hard work right now and harvesting tomatoes, cucumbers and herbs practically every day. I kid with my brother and jokingly refer to our garden as Turkey Hill.
I put on my Martha Stewart voice as I go on about the delicious pesto I whipped up from our organically grown basil. It is organically grown basil, but I'm really not that unbearable about it. One of the guys I work with calls us hippies because Steve has his own compost pile and I don't use pesticides on the red ants in our yard, but rather chase them off with the free coffee grounds I get from Starbucks.
Okay, maybe I am getting a little annoying.
He is completely right, but a lot of times I just don't have much to say. Right now I'm sitting in my living room watching Evening.
One quick side note: what must it be like to be Claire Danes? To have casting directors sit back and say, "We need a woman beautiful enough to make all the men in this movie thow out all reason. We need Claire Danes."
I've got a really gross cold right now so a Sunday afternoon with a chick flick on, even a mediocre one, seems perfect.
I hate summer colds. In the winter you can bundle up and drink hot tea and steaming soup, but in the summer a cold is just a nuisance. It's hot out, your nose is runny and you're sweating and it's just blegh!
In other news, we are currently enjoying all our hard work right now and harvesting tomatoes, cucumbers and herbs practically every day. I kid with my brother and jokingly refer to our garden as Turkey Hill.
I put on my Martha Stewart voice as I go on about the delicious pesto I whipped up from our organically grown basil. It is organically grown basil, but I'm really not that unbearable about it. One of the guys I work with calls us hippies because Steve has his own compost pile and I don't use pesticides on the red ants in our yard, but rather chase them off with the free coffee grounds I get from Starbucks.
Okay, maybe I am getting a little annoying.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Memorial Day Weekend
This weekend Steve and I are heading to Gulf Shores and while I love the beach I am both looking forward to and dreading this weekend.
The thing is: I'm fat.
My brother is probably reading this nodding his head agreeing with me right now.
Which, you know, whatever . . . I don't blame him.
He's smart enough though not to pull me aside and say,
"Girl, what is up? You look like you ATE Tyra?"
My mom on the other hand is driving me crazy.
She keeps making these little comments about my recent weight gain and really it does nothing to motivate me to lose weight.
I KNOW I'M FAT, MOM . . . DEAL.
I don't know what she thinks, but I can't stand the look of disappointment in her eyes when she looks at me.
The other day we were on the phone and as we were hanging up she said,
"Okay, I'll talk to you later. Donteattoomuch."
She sort of threw in that last comment like it was supposed to be some sort of subliminal message. I guess she thinks its helpful, but it really hurts.
During another phone call she totally non sequiturs, "Do you know that every day for breakfast I have plain corn flakes with some fresh fruit? It's very light."
It was so weird. Like I was reading one of those 1950's diet books on how to obtain a trim girlish figure. Next thing you know she'll be advising me to drink a G&T before dinner in order to curb my appetite.
Her all time low was when she tried to get away with calling me "gordita"! Which, HELLO, translates to "Little Fatty."
Not cute.
That one I forcefully objected to and she tried to pass it off at as a cute nickname. I said, "No, absolutely not. You will never call me that again." The diminutive use of a word does not immediately make it cute.
Yesterday I went back to the gym for the first time in ages. This is going to be a regular thing in my life. I can't keep ignoring my expanding waistline. Ive started packing healthy snacks for work and I'm committed to working out three days a week and avoiding the snack machine and cafeteria at work.
I didn't get this size overnight and conversely I'm not going to drop the weight overnight.
I just wish my mom understood that.
Sometimes I wonder if my mom is just a product of her generation and she equates her looks with her self-worth. Maybe if I'm not a perfect size 6 my husband will leave me.
My ex-husband once said that my weight gain made it easier for him to cheat. Ya'll I was fucking small when I was with him. I don't think I ever told my mom that he said that, but it did mess me up for a long time.
I realized recently that Steve doesn't feel that way. Of course he doesn't.
Not every man is a narcissistic sociopath.
Anyway, yes mom I know I'm fat but don't despair. I'm more than the sum of pounds on the scale.
The thing is: I'm fat.
My brother is probably reading this nodding his head agreeing with me right now.
Which, you know, whatever . . . I don't blame him.
He's smart enough though not to pull me aside and say,
"Girl, what is up? You look like you ATE Tyra?"
My mom on the other hand is driving me crazy.
She keeps making these little comments about my recent weight gain and really it does nothing to motivate me to lose weight.
I KNOW I'M FAT, MOM . . . DEAL.
I don't know what she thinks, but I can't stand the look of disappointment in her eyes when she looks at me.
The other day we were on the phone and as we were hanging up she said,
"Okay, I'll talk to you later. Donteattoomuch."
She sort of threw in that last comment like it was supposed to be some sort of subliminal message. I guess she thinks its helpful, but it really hurts.
During another phone call she totally non sequiturs, "Do you know that every day for breakfast I have plain corn flakes with some fresh fruit? It's very light."
It was so weird. Like I was reading one of those 1950's diet books on how to obtain a trim girlish figure. Next thing you know she'll be advising me to drink a G&T before dinner in order to curb my appetite.
Her all time low was when she tried to get away with calling me "gordita"! Which, HELLO, translates to "Little Fatty."
Not cute.
That one I forcefully objected to and she tried to pass it off at as a cute nickname. I said, "No, absolutely not. You will never call me that again." The diminutive use of a word does not immediately make it cute.
Yesterday I went back to the gym for the first time in ages. This is going to be a regular thing in my life. I can't keep ignoring my expanding waistline. Ive started packing healthy snacks for work and I'm committed to working out three days a week and avoiding the snack machine and cafeteria at work.
I didn't get this size overnight and conversely I'm not going to drop the weight overnight.
I just wish my mom understood that.
Sometimes I wonder if my mom is just a product of her generation and she equates her looks with her self-worth. Maybe if I'm not a perfect size 6 my husband will leave me.
My ex-husband once said that my weight gain made it easier for him to cheat. Ya'll I was fucking small when I was with him. I don't think I ever told my mom that he said that, but it did mess me up for a long time.
I realized recently that Steve doesn't feel that way. Of course he doesn't.
Not every man is a narcissistic sociopath.
Anyway, yes mom I know I'm fat but don't despair. I'm more than the sum of pounds on the scale.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Working from Home
Due to the ridiculous cost of gas and my employer's inability to up my pay, my department is being allowed to work one day a week from home.
Today is my day.
I do a few hours of work and take a ten minute break to run a load of laundry, unload the dishes or just cuddle with the dog. I get to spend my lunch hour at my favorite place: my front porch. This morning while people were gnashing their teeth over the morning commute I decided to take Dean on a 30 minute walk.
Sure, I'd like to make more money, but this is definitely a nice perk.
Today is my day.
I do a few hours of work and take a ten minute break to run a load of laundry, unload the dishes or just cuddle with the dog. I get to spend my lunch hour at my favorite place: my front porch. This morning while people were gnashing their teeth over the morning commute I decided to take Dean on a 30 minute walk.
Sure, I'd like to make more money, but this is definitely a nice perk.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
My Twin
Men Beware: This entry deals with my female parts and the things that can go wrong with them.
On Monday I had surgery and it was no fun.
Well, riding the morphine dragon was a little fun, but overall getting your belly button cut open is just not a good time. There are three small incisions including the one on my belly button, but damn does it hurt!
I was having some pelvic pain on my right side a few months ago. My doctor recommended that I go ahead and come in for am ultrasound.
I've never had a child, but I've seen plenty of ultrasounds on ER so I knew what to expect. If you've never had a pelvic ultrasound, know that you have to have a full bladder in order for them to get a good picture. I'm adding that in because ER never told me that and neither did my doctor. Consequently, my visit was made longer by the fact that I had to fill my bladder first. I finally get to the point where I'm ready to burst and the technician agrees with me that I'm ready.
There is no talking during an ultrasound. The technician just takes pictures while you lay there wondering why you're in pain. The tech finally speaks to me and says, "Okay, now I need you to go in the bathroom, empty your bladder and remove your clothes below the waist."
Me, "Uhm . . okay."
I go in the bathroom, do as I'm told and when I come out the technician says to me, "Okay, I need you to lay on the bed again."
I lay on the bed and I realize she's taken out a "wand" and is covering it with a condom and lubing it up with KY.
I didn't even know her name.
It turns out when they spot something on the ultrasound they have to then go in with what I've affectionately called the "dildo cam." That ultrasound detected a fibroid growing on the outside of my uterus . . . on the left side of my pelvis. Weird because I came in for pain on the right side.
My doctor and I decided to take the wait and see approach so I returned in six months and it had doubled in size. When they took the fibroid out it was the same size as my uterus: about the size of a large chicken egg.
My brother has been keeping my spirits up by calling this thing "my twin." I know that sounds gross, but it's actually a reference to My Big Fat Greek Wedding. He kept teasing me that if it was a dermoid cyst with teeth and hair he wanted me to bring it home in a jar so that he could keep it. My cyst's lore eventually grew to include painted finger nails.
My cyst did not have any of those things, but weirdly when I told my cousin D about it post-surgery he asked me, "They let you keep it?" My brother and D don't chat it up on a regular basis so I know they come up with this independently of each other. My family is crazy.
I was lucky with this whole fibroid thing. It was attached by a stalk and that meant they could take it out by making three small incisions. They had to cut the fibroid up in small pieces to take it out (thus rendering impossible for me to give it to my brother as one large mass in a mason jar), but they got all of it.
The ultrasounds I had couldn't detect what was causing my original complaint: pain on the lower right side.
The laparoscopy done on Monday showed that I've got endometriosis on my bladder as well as across both of my fallopian tubes. I've never tried to get pregnant, but my doctor is fairly sure that the endometriosis on my fallopian tubes would have made that pretty difficult.
The fact that it's on my bladder was interesting though because I kept having pain while I urinated (at times excruciating pain) and my former GP kept testing me for UTIs that came up negative. He eventually came to the conclusion that this pain was in my head and that maybe if I lost a little weight and exercised I would feel better. I was angry about it then, but now I'm furious. I hate that he made me feel crazy and that maybe I was imagining this pain.
I no longer go to that doctor.
I'm still a little freaked out that I had something like that growing inside of me, but I'm, glad it's out and I'm glad I have some answers.
My doctor is optimistic that it's benign, but we'll know for sure next week.
I'm not scared because at this point I'm leaving it in God's hands.
What else can I do?
On Monday I had surgery and it was no fun.
Well, riding the morphine dragon was a little fun, but overall getting your belly button cut open is just not a good time. There are three small incisions including the one on my belly button, but damn does it hurt!
I was having some pelvic pain on my right side a few months ago. My doctor recommended that I go ahead and come in for am ultrasound.
I've never had a child, but I've seen plenty of ultrasounds on ER so I knew what to expect. If you've never had a pelvic ultrasound, know that you have to have a full bladder in order for them to get a good picture. I'm adding that in because ER never told me that and neither did my doctor. Consequently, my visit was made longer by the fact that I had to fill my bladder first. I finally get to the point where I'm ready to burst and the technician agrees with me that I'm ready.
There is no talking during an ultrasound. The technician just takes pictures while you lay there wondering why you're in pain. The tech finally speaks to me and says, "Okay, now I need you to go in the bathroom, empty your bladder and remove your clothes below the waist."
Me, "Uhm . . okay."
I go in the bathroom, do as I'm told and when I come out the technician says to me, "Okay, I need you to lay on the bed again."
I lay on the bed and I realize she's taken out a "wand" and is covering it with a condom and lubing it up with KY.
I didn't even know her name.
It turns out when they spot something on the ultrasound they have to then go in with what I've affectionately called the "dildo cam." That ultrasound detected a fibroid growing on the outside of my uterus . . . on the left side of my pelvis. Weird because I came in for pain on the right side.
My doctor and I decided to take the wait and see approach so I returned in six months and it had doubled in size. When they took the fibroid out it was the same size as my uterus: about the size of a large chicken egg.
My brother has been keeping my spirits up by calling this thing "my twin." I know that sounds gross, but it's actually a reference to My Big Fat Greek Wedding. He kept teasing me that if it was a dermoid cyst with teeth and hair he wanted me to bring it home in a jar so that he could keep it. My cyst's lore eventually grew to include painted finger nails.
My cyst did not have any of those things, but weirdly when I told my cousin D about it post-surgery he asked me, "They let you keep it?" My brother and D don't chat it up on a regular basis so I know they come up with this independently of each other. My family is crazy.
I was lucky with this whole fibroid thing. It was attached by a stalk and that meant they could take it out by making three small incisions. They had to cut the fibroid up in small pieces to take it out (thus rendering impossible for me to give it to my brother as one large mass in a mason jar), but they got all of it.
The ultrasounds I had couldn't detect what was causing my original complaint: pain on the lower right side.
The laparoscopy done on Monday showed that I've got endometriosis on my bladder as well as across both of my fallopian tubes. I've never tried to get pregnant, but my doctor is fairly sure that the endometriosis on my fallopian tubes would have made that pretty difficult.
The fact that it's on my bladder was interesting though because I kept having pain while I urinated (at times excruciating pain) and my former GP kept testing me for UTIs that came up negative. He eventually came to the conclusion that this pain was in my head and that maybe if I lost a little weight and exercised I would feel better. I was angry about it then, but now I'm furious. I hate that he made me feel crazy and that maybe I was imagining this pain.
I no longer go to that doctor.
I'm still a little freaked out that I had something like that growing inside of me, but I'm, glad it's out and I'm glad I have some answers.
My doctor is optimistic that it's benign, but we'll know for sure next week.
I'm not scared because at this point I'm leaving it in God's hands.
What else can I do?
Sunday, September 09, 2007
Who Saw Britney at the VMAs?
Seriously.
Remember when Paula Abdul was an "it" girl? She had the cute Laker girl with huge hits: Straight Up, Forever Your Girl and she looked awesome slinking around in the Cold Hearted video?
Then she followed that up with Blowing Kisses in the Wind, The Promise of a New Day and Rush Rush and while we still loved Paula, because she wasn't the crazy Paula that she is now, you know you were thinking, "Damn Paula . . . you gotta lay off of that home cooking before you split a seam!"
Honey, that's how I felt watching Britney "sing" her new song Gimme. I'm not saying she looked fat because you're average size 12 American woman is thinking, "Shit, I wouldn't mind looking like that," when Britney comes traipsing across the stage, but Britney isn't normal.
She's a celebrity and I want my celebrities looking fabulous, not running around with a jiggly ass and a flabby stomach.
Hell, I'd be running around my house naked if I wanted to see that.
Gimme? Nuh, uh girl . . . you've got to push away from the table.
Tim Gunn - Call Britney STAT!
Tina Knowles - Call Britney! You may have designed some tacky ass shit for Beyonce, but you know how to sexily dress a woman with curves.
J-Lo - Call Britney! You know how to look hot and work the curves and you both "sing."
Remember when Paula Abdul was an "it" girl? She had the cute Laker girl with huge hits: Straight Up, Forever Your Girl and she looked awesome slinking around in the Cold Hearted video?
Then she followed that up with Blowing Kisses in the Wind, The Promise of a New Day and Rush Rush and while we still loved Paula, because she wasn't the crazy Paula that she is now, you know you were thinking, "Damn Paula . . . you gotta lay off of that home cooking before you split a seam!"
Honey, that's how I felt watching Britney "sing" her new song Gimme. I'm not saying she looked fat because you're average size 12 American woman is thinking, "Shit, I wouldn't mind looking like that," when Britney comes traipsing across the stage, but Britney isn't normal.
She's a celebrity and I want my celebrities looking fabulous, not running around with a jiggly ass and a flabby stomach.
Hell, I'd be running around my house naked if I wanted to see that.
Gimme? Nuh, uh girl . . . you've got to push away from the table.
Dear Britney,
You can't wear outfits that bare your midriff right now. If you do choose to bare your midriff it's not advisable for you to turn to the side and pop your pelvis. It just makes us think, "Oh no . . . someone needs to lay off the Cheetos." Slap on your Kabbalah bracelet and have Madonna put you in touch with her Pilates instructor.
P.S. You also shouldn't wear short, shorts if you've got to wear them with pantyhose. You just look like Kirstie Alley that time she was on Oprah in a two-piece.
Sincerely,
Someone Who Knows Better
Tim Gunn - Call Britney STAT!
Tina Knowles - Call Britney! You may have designed some tacky ass shit for Beyonce, but you know how to sexily dress a woman with curves.
J-Lo - Call Britney! You know how to look hot and work the curves and you both "sing."
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Sardonyx
I've always wanted to be a writer. I've never actually said that I wanted to be a fiction writer, a reporter or even a poet. I've just always known that I wanted to somehow make a living by stringing words together. Except for the 2.5 years when I was working as a training director, I've managed to do just that so I've been pretty lucky.
My first experience as a published writer was in high school.
My friend Janine and I were both on the yearbook staff. I think in my four years I took my sophmore year off because I was petty and immature, but for three years I was on the yearbook staff. I could have joined the newspaper staff, but for whatever reason I thought it was lame.
I think that I was more attracted to the yearbook because for me it had more of a sense of permanence than our school newspaper.
Think about it: the yearbooks were over 200 pages long with nice hardcover bindings. Our newpaper was an over sized glossy that maybe topped out at 8 pages.
If I remember correctly, I didn't actually get to write until my senior year but I did get to select pictures for the yearbook and crop them to fit. Mayn, that was back when dinosaurs roamed the earth because I remember hand cropping pictures with rulers and pens and scissors. Now I'd guess everything is done on a MAC.
Anyway, I think maybe it was at my 10 year reunion that Janine reminded me why we were in yearbook all along.
She said to me, "Don't you remember, we came in for a yearbook meeting and B____ and all her little friends had picked photos with them in it so the yearbook was nothing but them?"
I said, "Huh, not really."
Then Janine said, "Yeah. We looked at them and thought 'OH! UH,UH!' and took out there pictures and added pictures of us and our friends!"
My response, "Hmn, I don't remember that, but it definitely sounds like something I would do."
At which point I thing we burst into giggles because it really was the bitchy kind of retaliation that I still enjoy! We probably even asked ourselves, "Who do they think they are?"
Honestly though I don't remember when that was, but I get the feeling it may have been our junior year because I just flipped through that yearbook and our class candids are really fairly balanced between the student council girls and everyone else.
It's crazy to me how much time we spent worrying about face time in the yearbook, but I like to think Janine and I had a fair and even-handed approach.
The truth is, a lot of those girls that were trying to be on every page are still heavily involved with my alma mater.
Heavily involved: like they work there as adults kind of heavily involved.
I guess you have to have some with that sort of dedication to keep the school and the tradition going, but some part of me wonders if those four years of high school were indeed the best times of their lives.
That's just sad.
My first experience as a published writer was in high school.
My friend Janine and I were both on the yearbook staff. I think in my four years I took my sophmore year off because I was petty and immature, but for three years I was on the yearbook staff. I could have joined the newspaper staff, but for whatever reason I thought it was lame.
I think that I was more attracted to the yearbook because for me it had more of a sense of permanence than our school newspaper.
Think about it: the yearbooks were over 200 pages long with nice hardcover bindings. Our newpaper was an over sized glossy that maybe topped out at 8 pages.
If I remember correctly, I didn't actually get to write until my senior year but I did get to select pictures for the yearbook and crop them to fit. Mayn, that was back when dinosaurs roamed the earth because I remember hand cropping pictures with rulers and pens and scissors. Now I'd guess everything is done on a MAC.
Anyway, I think maybe it was at my 10 year reunion that Janine reminded me why we were in yearbook all along.
She said to me, "Don't you remember, we came in for a yearbook meeting and B____ and all her little friends had picked photos with them in it so the yearbook was nothing but them?"
I said, "Huh, not really."
Then Janine said, "Yeah. We looked at them and thought 'OH! UH,UH!' and took out there pictures and added pictures of us and our friends!"
My response, "Hmn, I don't remember that, but it definitely sounds like something I would do."
At which point I thing we burst into giggles because it really was the bitchy kind of retaliation that I still enjoy! We probably even asked ourselves, "Who do they think they are?"
Honestly though I don't remember when that was, but I get the feeling it may have been our junior year because I just flipped through that yearbook and our class candids are really fairly balanced between the student council girls and everyone else.
It's crazy to me how much time we spent worrying about face time in the yearbook, but I like to think Janine and I had a fair and even-handed approach.
The truth is, a lot of those girls that were trying to be on every page are still heavily involved with my alma mater.
Heavily involved: like they work there as adults kind of heavily involved.
I guess you have to have some with that sort of dedication to keep the school and the tradition going, but some part of me wonders if those four years of high school were indeed the best times of their lives.
That's just sad.
Friday, August 03, 2007
US 127 Corridor Sale - Day 2
We are both tired, sunburned and sweaty.
Regardless, we had a wonderful day. It's pretty much just like your typical Saturday yard sale excursion only absolutely everyone in your neighborhood is having a yard sale. You drive along HWY 127 and there are some folks who have houses on the highway so there are a few tables set up in the yard.
Then you drive along and suddenly it's tent city:
What you're seeing is typically just the front row of "booths." Items range in price and style. Some people specialize in niche markets:
Buttons.
Buttons.
A table full of buttons.
One tent was nothing but sewing notions. She even had old sewing advertisements. I immediately thought of my friend Jen. Now, Jen is currently in Korea enjoying the wonders of Fabric Mart, but I know she would have loved this booth.
Steve was kept very busy with all of the old tools. Here are today's finds:
He showed a lot of restraint.
In all we traveled about 60 miles north of Chattanooga today. The traffic isn't bad at all. As a friend of mine put it "you're treasure might be right there" so you have to stop every few feet to check out the "booths."
Here are a few more shots of the "treasures" we found today.
This cute little guy that Steve and I are convinced is from The Land of Make Believe, but we can't confirm it.
This cool Therm-a-Chest metal cooler that you can see is already being put to good use.
This cool new vase that's going to look nice in our living room.
The glasses are for my brother: they are from Disney's 25th Anniversary.
Right now I'm really loving bangles.
It's been a really fun day, but tomorrow I'm going to have to take more pictures.
Regardless, we had a wonderful day. It's pretty much just like your typical Saturday yard sale excursion only absolutely everyone in your neighborhood is having a yard sale. You drive along HWY 127 and there are some folks who have houses on the highway so there are a few tables set up in the yard.
Then you drive along and suddenly it's tent city:
What you're seeing is typically just the front row of "booths." Items range in price and style. Some people specialize in niche markets:
Buttons.
Buttons.
A table full of buttons.
One tent was nothing but sewing notions. She even had old sewing advertisements. I immediately thought of my friend Jen. Now, Jen is currently in Korea enjoying the wonders of Fabric Mart, but I know she would have loved this booth.
Steve was kept very busy with all of the old tools. Here are today's finds:
He showed a lot of restraint.
In all we traveled about 60 miles north of Chattanooga today. The traffic isn't bad at all. As a friend of mine put it "you're treasure might be right there" so you have to stop every few feet to check out the "booths."
Here are a few more shots of the "treasures" we found today.
This cute little guy that Steve and I are convinced is from The Land of Make Believe, but we can't confirm it.
This cool Therm-a-Chest metal cooler that you can see is already being put to good use.
This cool new vase that's going to look nice in our living room.
The glasses are for my brother: they are from Disney's 25th Anniversary.
Right now I'm really loving bangles.
It's been a really fun day, but tomorrow I'm going to have to take more pictures.
Thursday, August 02, 2007
US 127 Corridor Sale - Day 1
It hasn't been too exciting, yet.
I got off of work at noon only to find that the gas company decided to choose today to move our gas meter. So, we didn't get on the road until 4pm. We made pretty good time though and arrived in Chattanooga at around 11pm EST.
We are really flying by the seat of our pants so we stopped at the TN Visitor's Center and picked up a coupon book. I was a little worried because we didn't have reservations anywhere, and I know there are a lot of people attending this masssive yard sale.
Those coupon books don't really give you a lot to choose from and some of the places in there I just didn't recognize. So, I picked a mid-range hotel that isn't outrageously expensive ($59.95/night), but also isn't so cheap I might get scabies from the mattress. It's not gorgeous, but having spent the better part of two years in hotel rooms you really can't distinguish one from the next.
I mentioned that we didn't have a plan, right? Thanks to Steve we have one now.
We booked this room again tomorrow night so we are going to wake up early and head north a few more hours. The idea is to work our way back down to Chattanooga and spend the night in the same room tomorrow night. Then Saturday morning we head back to Montgomery from Chattanooga and hit the southern end of the corridor sale.
This way we a.) guarantee having a place to stay Friday night and b.) have more room for all the junk we're going to buy during Friday's leg of the sale.
It's a simple plan, but genius in its simplicity.
Tomorrow night: Day 2 - In the Thick of It (with pictures)
I got off of work at noon only to find that the gas company decided to choose today to move our gas meter. So, we didn't get on the road until 4pm. We made pretty good time though and arrived in Chattanooga at around 11pm EST.
We are really flying by the seat of our pants so we stopped at the TN Visitor's Center and picked up a coupon book. I was a little worried because we didn't have reservations anywhere, and I know there are a lot of people attending this masssive yard sale.
Those coupon books don't really give you a lot to choose from and some of the places in there I just didn't recognize. So, I picked a mid-range hotel that isn't outrageously expensive ($59.95/night), but also isn't so cheap I might get scabies from the mattress. It's not gorgeous, but having spent the better part of two years in hotel rooms you really can't distinguish one from the next.
I mentioned that we didn't have a plan, right? Thanks to Steve we have one now.
We booked this room again tomorrow night so we are going to wake up early and head north a few more hours. The idea is to work our way back down to Chattanooga and spend the night in the same room tomorrow night. Then Saturday morning we head back to Montgomery from Chattanooga and hit the southern end of the corridor sale.
This way we a.) guarantee having a place to stay Friday night and b.) have more room for all the junk we're going to buy during Friday's leg of the sale.
It's a simple plan, but genius in its simplicity.
Tomorrow night: Day 2 - In the Thick of It (with pictures)
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
New Orleans
Steve and I were in New Orleans this weekend.
We were lucky that Steve's schedule allowed him the time off this weekend so we took advantage of that to go to New Orleans to visit with our parents.
I apologize to any of you who read the site and have emailed me in the last few months and said, "Call me when you're in town and we'll get together."
We were only in for two full days and between Steve's 4 siblings, parents and my family we were kept busy the entire time.
The last time we visited was Mardi Gras so we didn't do a lot of hanging out with either of our parents so on this visit we made it a point to hang out with our parents.
Some exciting news from home: my parents are getting there house shored by this guy. For those of you not familiar with this process, a bunch of guys dig a trench around your house, dig tunnels under your house and then jack the whole thing up with a pneumatic jack.
I called my parents on Tuesday to let them know we'd be in town and to ask them if we could stay at Casa Martinez. The said, "Sure! We'd love to have you!"
So, we show up late Friday night and as we're moving around the house on Saturday morning my mom says, "Oh, by the way, they cut the gas lines so there's no hot water."
Steve is still hoping his scared testicles will someday descend as currently he thinks they might be hiding somewhere near his liver.
I personally didn't find the water to be that cold.
Yes, at first my nipples could have cut glass but after a while your body kind of adjusts to the cold and you can almost convince yourself that the water is scalding.
It was a lot like camping on a primitve site only with a nice comfy mattress at night.
In other family news: the real reason we visited New Orleans last weekend.
Steve's mom is scheduled to have knee surgery today. Anne is an active senior, but once you're in your 70s surgery is always a risky thing. The last news we heard the surgery went well and she was in recovery.
I love home: I love my mom and dad, I love my in-laws, I love The Swamp Room Burgers and beignets, but there's nothing drawing me home.
Sure, my parents are there but if I were home I would stop being me and go back to Melissa - child, daughter.
I once told a former co-worker that I don't live near my parents because they'd always be calling me to handle stuff. She looked at me contemplatively and then said, "I can see that. You're very capable."
When I say "handle stuff" I don't mean helping them by picking up their dry cleaning or buying a gallon of milk on the way to their house. I mean I think they'd call me to say, "Melissa, your father hasn't handled _____________, I need you to (handle it, talk to him, convince him it's his idea . . . )" Or, "Melissa we need reservations at XX hotel, can you call them and make them?"
Now look, English is a second language for my parents but my mom manages to function at the store and with her English-as-a-primary-language friends and employers and my dad speaks English fairly fluently so it's not like I'm hanging them out to dry.
Then there's my brother. C, you know I love you but in a weird way I think your crazy competitive side would come out if I moved home.
Shortly after my divorce I told C that I was interviewing for a job in LA and his immediate response was, "No, you can't move home . . . " in this sort of horrified whine.
I think that while mom and dad might bug him as much as they would bug me, he sort of enjoys being their go-to child.
He can have it.
In AL I just get to be Melissa - homeowner, wife, co-worker, cycling class attendee and most importantly: adult.
We were lucky that Steve's schedule allowed him the time off this weekend so we took advantage of that to go to New Orleans to visit with our parents.
I apologize to any of you who read the site and have emailed me in the last few months and said, "Call me when you're in town and we'll get together."
We were only in for two full days and between Steve's 4 siblings, parents and my family we were kept busy the entire time.
The last time we visited was Mardi Gras so we didn't do a lot of hanging out with either of our parents so on this visit we made it a point to hang out with our parents.
Some exciting news from home: my parents are getting there house shored by this guy. For those of you not familiar with this process, a bunch of guys dig a trench around your house, dig tunnels under your house and then jack the whole thing up with a pneumatic jack.
I called my parents on Tuesday to let them know we'd be in town and to ask them if we could stay at Casa Martinez. The said, "Sure! We'd love to have you!"
So, we show up late Friday night and as we're moving around the house on Saturday morning my mom says, "Oh, by the way, they cut the gas lines so there's no hot water."
Steve is still hoping his scared testicles will someday descend as currently he thinks they might be hiding somewhere near his liver.
I personally didn't find the water to be that cold.
Yes, at first my nipples could have cut glass but after a while your body kind of adjusts to the cold and you can almost convince yourself that the water is scalding.
It was a lot like camping on a primitve site only with a nice comfy mattress at night.
In other family news: the real reason we visited New Orleans last weekend.
Steve's mom is scheduled to have knee surgery today. Anne is an active senior, but once you're in your 70s surgery is always a risky thing. The last news we heard the surgery went well and she was in recovery.
I love home: I love my mom and dad, I love my in-laws, I love The Swamp Room Burgers and beignets, but there's nothing drawing me home.
Sure, my parents are there but if I were home I would stop being me and go back to Melissa - child, daughter.
I once told a former co-worker that I don't live near my parents because they'd always be calling me to handle stuff. She looked at me contemplatively and then said, "I can see that. You're very capable."
When I say "handle stuff" I don't mean helping them by picking up their dry cleaning or buying a gallon of milk on the way to their house. I mean I think they'd call me to say, "Melissa, your father hasn't handled _____________, I need you to (handle it, talk to him, convince him it's his idea . . . )" Or, "Melissa we need reservations at XX hotel, can you call them and make them?"
Now look, English is a second language for my parents but my mom manages to function at the store and with her English-as-a-primary-language friends and employers and my dad speaks English fairly fluently so it's not like I'm hanging them out to dry.
Then there's my brother. C, you know I love you but in a weird way I think your crazy competitive side would come out if I moved home.
Shortly after my divorce I told C that I was interviewing for a job in LA and his immediate response was, "No, you can't move home . . . " in this sort of horrified whine.
I think that while mom and dad might bug him as much as they would bug me, he sort of enjoys being their go-to child.
He can have it.
In AL I just get to be Melissa - homeowner, wife, co-worker, cycling class attendee and most importantly: adult.
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