Bringin’ some lovin’ here today.

Posted: April 26, 2007 in Headspace, Journal, Maine, vacation

A post about what’s goin’ on.

Calvin and I decided to make our Maine trip a total vacation trip, instead of spending half of it in a seminar. We’ve had some major stress over the past couple of weeks, with health concerns going on with both of us, plus work, plus the kids, plus plus plus…

The upshot is that we just really need a decompression break. A week during which there will be no thinking about serious shit – something that we have been doing waaaay too much of over the past couple of weeks. So there will be more time for walking on the beach, visiting the lighthouses, prowling around the Old Port, and hanging with the family. The seminar can wait when our mental well-being is much more important.

I talked to my girlfriend AB last Sunday night, and she (and her daughter) were so shocked that I called that I felt like a complete choad. If your friends are shocked when you call, that means that you don’t call enough. I shall try to be a better friend from this point forward.

Speaking of which, I called my sister three different times and left messages, and she hasn’t called me back. So now I think she kind of sucks and she’s going to have to work to get back into my good graces. Buying me an italian sandwich and having a bonfire at her house comes to mind.

Whenever I “hear” Lucy’s voice in my head, she “sounds” like Ivana Trump. Cheeto “sounds” like Bill Murray (ala Garfield). Gadget “sounds” like Hammy from Over the Hedge (Steve Carell). Gypsy “sounds” like Caroline Rhea. And Oz sounds like Stewie from Family Guy (Seth MacFarlane). My imagination is a very strange place.

Cheeto and Lucy have been thrashing around in their tank all morning long – chasing from perch to perch, Cheeto bobbing and Lucy waving, both of them traipsing through their veggies and creating general mayhem. Just a few moments ago Lucy crawled back under one of the logs where she’s spent most of her time for the past few months. Bearded dragons brumate (a semi-hibernation) for part of the year – usually the winter months. Her clock must be off, though, because it’s in the (fucking) 90’s and sunny 90% of the time. I think maybe their tank is too small and she’s sleeping a lot because she’s depressed. That’s what I do when I’m depressed, anyway – crawl under a log (or the covers) and sleep it off. I think we’ll get them a rabbit cage to set out in the sun on the lawn for them to hang out in on nice afternoons.

Michael bought Calvin’s sport bike off of him, and now he’s (Michael) constantly pestering him (Calvin) to go for a ride. The boy is hyper. And today is his 24th birthday. Lilly called and put the boys on with their birthday wishes – Calvin got to talk to them, too. As it was, like, 6:30 in the morning, I was still unconscious. X(f) (Michael and Marie’s mom, for those of you who haven’t plowed through all of the journal archives) is taking Michael to a baseball game tonight. Marie was not invited. That kind of ticks me off. It has been several years, now, since Marie and X(f) have spoken. But X(f) speaks to Michael quite often. I don’t get that woman.

I have been tanning, a couple of times a week, at this place that is exactly two minutes away from my house. At first I was totally claustrophobic in the TANNING COFFIN OF DOOM, but I got used to it after the first few visits. I started at six minutes, worked my way up to eight, and now I’m a total pro at ten minutes. I’m a hussy and I tan nekkid – I thought I’d give you that mental image as a bonus, just for being such good readers. I kind of like the process over laying out in the sun, since it’s so much quicker and I don’t have to expose anyone to seeing me in a bathing suit. The only problem is that you get weird negative areas in your tan, like under your arms and on your tailbone. I don’t think I’ll keep up with it for very much longer – my purchased month of “all you can tan!” is over on the first, and I doubt I’ll go beyond that. It was just one of those whims I got one day when I looked at myself in the mirror and said, “Damn, girl, you are one pasty looking bee-otch!”

I got an MRI on Monday, looking for issues beyond the pancreatitis. THAT was an interesting experience. It was cold, noisy, sensory-depriving, and much less horrid than the CT-scan I got a couple of weeks ago (no IV! no needles! no problem!). I wore elastic waisted jogging pants and a t-shirt with no bra (woo-woo!), so I didn’t have to further demean myself by wearing the svelte little gowns they give you. The scanner-man was very nice and encouraged me all along the way, asking frequently through the monitor if I was okay. I wore headphones that channelled 98.7 The Peak FM, which cut out every time he spoke to me. It seemed weird to call my “Yep, okay in here,” into the air, but the MRI Tunnel O’ Love had a microphone through which he could hear me. Then it was 35 minutes of “Deep breath in, blow your breath out, deep breath in, and hoooold your breath…” At least he told me how long I was going to have to hold it (16 seconds, 28 seconds, 22 seconds…), so I could do a mental countdown. During two scans – one eight minutes long and one five minutes long – I just had to lay still and breathe normally. All I had to do was listen to the “EEEEEHHHHHHHH… CLUNK CLUNK CLUNK CLUNK… EEEEEEHHHHHHHH”, which pretty much drowned out the music. Despite the noise I almost fell asleep, then had to rouse myself for some more “… and hoooold your breath.” After every breath holding session, the scanner-man would be all like, “That was very good!” Uh, thanks? I’ve been practicing.

I got a message yesterday afternoon from the doc’s, and the scan came back normal. I still want to look at it, though, and check out what my innards look like. I bet there’s kittens and posies and sparkly things all up in there.


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