Fresh, Hot Wastes of Time

Heavenly Father,

On this anniversary of terror and disbelief and loss, we pray to you to watch over those who were lost and most especially to comfort those who were left behind. Cradle us in your loving arms and let us know that this was indeed part of your plan. Console us with the knowledge that our grief is not in vain. Bring tolerance and understanding and love to those who want to hurt us. Grant us courage to face this day, and the next, and every other day. Wipe our tears and hold us tight against the evil in the world. Have mercy on us, your children. Just as you lost your only son on earth, know that thousands of people have lost their sons, daughters, fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, husbands, wives, and friends. Help us accept our losses, help us accept your love, help us love one another, help us live our lives with hope and dignity and your grace, we beseech you.

Amen.

Well that’s done with. Thank goodness, and thanks for all the nice comments, especially the surprise appearance of my big brother! I have no idea how he found my page but I assure you I will not let him keep me from bringing you things like Mr. Rogers quotes taken entirely out of context, a list of revelations about this year’s crop of college students, or the lazy-ass road workers who painted a stripe right over a dead badger.

We got to the hospital this morning around 9:15 and went through registration, then they assigned me a room and I got changed into one of those loverly ass-exposing hospital gowns. The anesthesiologist came in to chat. He was very, very nice – I had specifically requested that I not get the guy who called me fat while placing my epidural last September. The nurse came in and started my IV, from which I barely have a bruise anymore, and they gave me a “margarita”, which was really a dose of Versed. Fantastic stuff, that. I was totally calm but completely lucid. They came to get me and I was disappointed because Pretty in Pink or something was on TV and I wanted to watch it.

I got wheeled into the operating room, scooted over to the operating table, and they strapped me down (which would have completely freaked me out if I had not been dopey). I noticed the anesthesiologist injecting something into my IV and… hey! who turned out the lights?

I did wake up right at the end, which they told me to expect. They were stitching me up. Then I guess I scooted over to a gurney, but I don’t remember that part, and they wheeled me back to the room. The doctor came in and said that it looked fine, and he thought it was just old scar tissue. I asked to see what they removed and they were a little shocked, but oibliged me. Couldn’t see much, just some pink stuff.

The nurse gave me a pain pill, removed my IV, helped me sit up, and I saw the news that we were upgraded to a higher terrorist threat so we watched the news for a while. Then they wheeled me to the door and we went to get greasy burgers at Dirty Martin’s Kum-bak Place, after which I fell sound asleep for3 or four hours.

I definitely felt the pain when I woke up, so right now I’m waiting for the pill to kick in. As long as I don’t move my arm, I’m ok.

Anyway, I’m so relieved it’s over with. Anticipation’s a bitch. If they had scheduled the appointment the same day I went in, I wouldn’t have had time to get worked up about it. I won’t know the pathology results for a few days, but they didn’t seem too worried.

Watch this girl stack cups like a bandit.

They’re cutting me tomorrow. I just took a big blue Valium because I’m so nervous about it that at dinner tonight my hands were shaking so badly that I literally couldn’t butter my bread properly. Hub has been so sweet, trying to jolly me out of my apprehension.

I hate hospitals, I hate IVs, I hate anesthesia, I hate breast surgery, I hate being a patient, I hate relinquishing control. And I miss the kids.

Dumbass annoying lady at next table: No, no, Caro’s the one with the oxygen tank, Necie is the one who’s really sweet.
Dumbass #2: Oh, that’s me, that’s me!

DALANT: cell phone rings loudly and prolongedly.

DALANT: Yeah, you know, there were pregnant women on the plane and it was so sad it made me cry. You just didn’t know whether to grab a gun or a Bible. You know what? I think that on the day of the anniversary, I won’t wear any makeup. (said in a tone of reverent sacrifice)

DALANT: Oh, those dogs, you know their hair is short so they don’t stink.

DALANT: What’s in that candle, gel or water?
DALANT #3: *dunk*
Waiter: Actually, it’s lamp oil.
DALANT #3: *blush*
DALANT: You know, I never could understand why my grandparents would dunk their fingers in champagne and then smell their fingers. Is it for the aroma?

DALANT #3: cell phone rings loudly and prolongedly. (shouting) Hello? Oh, we were all saying it’s little Joey! Hi, little Joey! Yes, we’re at Jeffrey’s restaurant! We’re having dinner! It is fabulous! HaHAhahaha! Yeah! Yeah! So what are you doing!
Me: We need to get out of here now before I rap a spoon on her forehead.

That maybe was a little mean. Here, look at this picture. Really, I promise, it’s safe. Cross my heart.

They’re mine. Aren’t they cute?

About that black widow thing. The day we left, the one in the cow skull on the table outside on the patio had had babies. There were literally hundreds of baby black widow spiders scuttling around in the skull.

And we didn’t just see one scorpion in the house – there was the (giant) one in the bedroom, then a tiny little baby one in the light fixture in one bathroom and another teeny little one in the bathtub in another bathroom. This one was the one who crawled out of the sink overflow on our last visit when hub was washing his face.

Nitey night – oh, and sweet dreams.

This is September. September is still considered in the summer season, at least until the 21st. Summer means hot. It means school starts and football season starts and Labor Day and the last swims in the lake. It is not even a little bit cold in September. Sometimes there are hurricanes, which show up in the summer seasons. Daylight savings time is in effect, and it stays light until 8:30 PM and you have to go out and water the yard and fight off the mosquitoes and wave howdy to your neighbors who walk by in their shorts and t-shirts.

September (at least the first 75% of it) is not even fall yet. Trees do not turn colors in September. Grass still grows fast, cicadas still screech at night, lightning bugs fly at dusk, kids play in the back yard and sell lemonade on weekends.

I feel compelled to mention this because inside of Michael’s craft shop, it is full-on Christmas time. They have out the Christmas decorations, they’re playing Christmas music, they even have out the Christmas-scented pot pourri.

Christmas is over 25% of the year away. Christmas is two seasons away. Christmas is a blasphemy when it’s 100 degrees outside and school just started and we haven’t even had Halloween yet, for fuck’s sake.

I love Christmas because it is special. It comes once a year, when it’s nice and cool out and gets dark early and there are corny songs on the radio but it’s ok because you know all the words and you don’t mind singing along. When you start Christmas over three months before the actual holiday, it is no longer special. It is passe. It is boring, and it will be crusty and smelly and old by the time December 25th actually gets here.