Fibro Girl, Grey’s Anatomy And Me

Grey's Anatomy (season 1)

Grey’s Anatomy (season 1) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

When I think of “Fibro Girl” I imagine a small, spunky superhero with brown hair and round black glasses and a red cape that has a big bold black F on it. I don’t know why I think of her that way but it amuses me. Maybe because it’s such a juxtaposition between her life and mine. She is trying to fight Fibromyalgia with her strength. I have NO strength. When I was FINALLY diagnosed with Fibromyalgia, seven years ago, my strength was taken away.

Our lives with this illness are question marks. It is hard for us to plan ahead. In fact for me, it’s impossible. For people who DON’T have FIBROMYALGIA OR DOUBTERS (seriously? still?)  I am physically unable to commit to a date in the future without the caveat “depends on how I’m feeling.”  People who cannot understand that are not true friends. We didn’t ask for this, we wish we didn’t have it. Believe us.

My current experience with Fibromyalgia is that I am able to do one errand per day, MAYBE two. If I push my limit I’m wiped out and pay for it later with exhaustion/ pain. At the moment I am not suffering as much physical pain as I had in the past. (see past Fibromyalgia posts) There’s always some pain but I have learned to accept and manage that pain because of a great doctor and the right combination of Fibro drugs. Now, doctors are worried about a new “balance issue” which has nothing to do with Fibromyalgia.  More tests, a pink cane….I can’t walk a straight line, two perfect CAT scans. Can we stop now? No.

Fibromyalgia takes control over us. I’m embarrassed to say that I never thought about it that way. Amazing how our lives change so quickly. If stress is indeed a factor, I’m in deep trouble. My husband got laid off 2 days ago. I can’t work even though I want to and we need the money but it’s not possible. It doesn’t seem right to punish us for something we physically cannot do. Not right at all.

We don’t live in a perfect world, although I really do know people who live a charmed life in every aspect of their lives. Lucky them, maybe they have dark secrets but I doubt it. All I want is a break in having to struggle every single day with some new illness or symptom. The umbrella of Fibromyalagia has so many illnesses underneath it I go to the doctor(s) way too much.

Right now, with the weather is getting colder. I always feel worse when it is cold outside. Then, a good time for me is staying in bed with my dog lying next to me, watching Grey’s Anatomy, Parenthood or The Voice. The television has become my life line. That and this computer connecting me to friends with Fibro and without. We do the best we can with what we have. Minute by minute, day by day. We’re in it together, holding hands, on-line and off.


The Measure Of Time

English: Woman undergoing a mammogram of the r...

English: Woman undergoing a mammogram of the right breast (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Some people measure how quickly time goes by with the start of a new year, January 1st, others by  their birthday, or the start of school. I measure how quickly the year goes by at my annual mammogram appointment, where I sit in that same musty, intolerable room, sweating with the other women, waiting for our names to be called.

I am not the measure of confidence, breezy, smiling with designer shoes and handbag when I go in but I admire the women who seem to be that way. Count me out. I go, this time with soft, well-worn gray pants, and a loose striped shirt, my hair in two short pig-tails to get it away from my face, my face showing fear and anxiety. The day before this I had a grueling day at The Balance Center so I thought, perhaps, I could catch a break today. Yeah, right.

They call my name rather quickly and for that I am grateful, I have a friendly technician who realizes I have lost weight, by the size of my breasts? Whatever. She finishes the films and I sit down and wait for my name to be called, imagining my relieved smile, walking out the door, perhaps celebrating with a pumpkin spiced latte from Starbucks. No such luck.

After waiting another fifteen minutes, they call my name again and I proceed to the doctor but unfortunately that is not where they want me to go. Another technician tells me the doctor wants a repeat of some of the films, actually of my right breast and my heart plummets to my feet. I feel weak so I try to hang on to the bar on top of the machine and I try to ask  the technician questions but she gives me no answers. I am already trying to accept my fate and think of myself categorically planning the next step. Why me? Why not me? No one is exempt from this horrible disease, I don’t have any lucky charm or special karma, it’s really a number’s game, isn’t it?

The free pink pens and pink peppermints on the table don’t do much to help my nerves or anyone else’s, I don’t see many people taking the free samples. I take a pen and pop a peppermint in my mouth for the sugar. After another twenty minutes, yet again, a different technician calls my name and I steel myself for the news of the radiologist good or bad, I will be strong, I will cope, not that I have a choice.

Instead of seeing the radiologist, this technician whisks me into the ultra-sound room and focuses heavily on my right breast. I’m not an idiot, the doctor wanted extra pictures of my right breast and the technician is spending 80 percent of her time trying to get clear pictures of my right breast. I timidly ask politely from the technician if there is anything she can tell me. Cool as a cucumber, she says, somewhat haughtily, “the doctor will tell you the results” she looks like she’s 15 and I know it’s her job but again, patient sensitivity is sorely lacking.

She tells me NOT to get dressed (not a good sign, I think) and she will show this to the doctor. I get dressed anyway. After ten minutes she comes in and says she will take me to the doctor. I don’t remember walking there, I just remember being there. Inside a jovial sounding man who I can now image only as Owen Hunt from “Grey’s Anatomy” says “take a seat.” I remain standing because I cannot move. He said ‘you’re fine.” “What?” I ask? He repeats  in a casual, breezy tone, ” you’re fine.” I find my voice and say “what about all the extra pictures and the ultra sound and the emphasis on the right breast?” He leans back in his chair and laughs, “Oh, you have a lymph node there but you’ve had the same one for the last ten years, nothing to worry about. Come on now, not even a smile?” I just stare. Once again, he asks “can I just have one smile before you leave?” I turn my back, and walk quietly out the door.

I’m still in shock but I am grateful.

My Addiction To Grey’s Anatomy (Spoiler Alert) Pop Cop

Grey's Anatomy (soundtrack)

Grey’s Anatomy (soundtrack) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I admit it. I’ve watched the Grey’s Anatomy finale three times. Don’t judge me. I had to watch it the second time because the soundtrack/music of the show is so loud sometimes that, with my one deaf ear,  I can’t make out the words. To clarify, I have to ask my sister or my daughter. After that, I watch it again to see what I have missed and it is like watching it anew. (I have written to ABC about it in the past and they were ever so nice but they sent me a letter full of technical language that I could barely understand. Maybe I’ll write again.) The third time is pure indulgence, air conditioning on, no one at home, volume high, sprawled on the bed with my dog, a cheese stick, some crackers, red grapes, a bit of heaven.

Personally, I don’t think Richard is necessarily dead. Of course he looks dead but in every show there is always at least one cliff hanger, usually more, and for Grey’s Anatomy, for once, this was actually tame. Tame, you ask? Well, relatively speaking. Sure, in the past there have been numerous tragedies per episode (damn it, why did you have to kill of Lexi, I loved her and I named my dog after her.) But, I digress, a friend of mine mentioned to me that someone dies in every episode, that could be true but it IS a medical show.

Finally, a happy moment when Bailey saves Meredith’s life and lo and behold Meredith names her son….da da daaa….Bailey, after, of course, Dr. Miranda Bailey who is a much-loved surgeon who has been through a tough time (like who in this show hasn’t gone through a tough time) and has basically saved Meredith’s life (Meredith’s life has been saved about 11 times already.)

Karev  turned out to be a mush after all (okay we all knew that long ago) and his relationship with what’s-her-name, the tough cookie, Jo? Sorry sweetheart, I honestly don’t remember your name but it looks like it just might work out. I give Christina enormous credit for walking away from Hunt and finally accepting herself as who she really is. Kudos, Christina. And did you notice there was no arguing from him when she left? He was fooling himself all along but she knew better.Wonderful character development for both of them!

Callie and Arizona, well, well, well. A little disappointed in Arizona and the new kid in town known in our family as Peyton from “One Tree Hill” but Arizona still held a grudge against Callie for amputating her leg, even if it was to save her life.”IT WAS TO SAVE HER LIFE!”  Not sure how that will end up bu it truly was an incredibly good, powerful scene. Arizona, get with the program already, grow up.

So, Zola, go to sleep, sweet child and know when next season comes back (AND IT BETTER) you will be a bigger girl and an older sister. You may be jealous but that’s okay, it will all work out, with a little darkness, a little twisty drama and a whole lot of love.


“The Shark Tank” And Me (Pop Cop)

Shark Tank 6

Shark Tank 6 (Photo credit: Sakurako KitsaOh

I know, I’m overdue for a snarky post. You want one? You’ve got one. Let’s discuss “The Shark Tank”, a show that my husband and I happen to like and watch.  I’d just like to point out some of the characteristics of the said “sharks.” Who should go first? Come on, play along with me.

Mark? Okay. I actually like him, because beneath his arrogant exterior I can tell he has a heart, especially when it comes to children so I can usually predict how interested he will be in a deal. He’s likely to go for the underdog. Deep inside the cigar smoking ego maniac, I think there’s just a cool, nice guy. Plus, if I was thirty years younger (OUCH) okay maybe twenty, I would have a mad crush on him. Girls, sorry, women, are very fond of the good guy and bad boy type. It works, it always works. As Meredith Gray from “Gray’s Anatomy” would say and I quote “Seriously? “Seriously.”

On to the next Shark, yes you, cutie pie, sweet, Robert with that trusting face. You are my personal favorite. AWWW, I just want to hug you? With those sweet blue eyes, you are absolutely adorable. All of the good guy, none of the bad. You try to speak, to make a deal and that (dirt bag) Kevin will just shut you up without a thought or a glance. Oh, and believe me, we KNOW you must have been a shark in business to be up there with those other tigers but you seem too nice. Robert, honey, you were the boy best friend every girl wanted and HAD,  but no, sweetie, not in THAT way.  As far as sex, I’m sorry, you were like an older brother to me and to everyone else. However, we all LOVED you and still do. I know it stings but we will Best Friends Forever. Promise ❤ xoxo

Going from the sublime to the ridiculous we head straight over to Mr. EgomaniacalHimself what’s his name, oh yeah, Kevin; or as he has proclaimed himself, “Mr. (gag) Wonderful” excuse me while I projectile vomit. I know there has to be a bad guy in every show but really, Kevin? So rude, so nasty, all the time? You’ve become a caricature of YOURSELF.  Money grubbing, penny, saving, no-heart banker? I guess even in the Shark Tank every shark has a dominant nasty shark, and so we are stuck with you. Yeah! You are entirely dislikeable and maybe you are a real doll in life (doubt it) but even your pointy, arrogant face bothers me. You may have the most experience in certain fields but I don’t think I would enjoy partnering on any deal with you, even if it was a better offer. I’d rather partner with someone else JUST so it would bug you or to see you beg. I love it when you lose. It gives me pleasure.

Daymond (Sorry, I thought it was Damon), you are one cool guy! What can I say that you don’t know yourself? I think you are not as cool as you play but just cool enough and quiet too. I’m sorry I had never heard of you or FUBU before but I’m quick study, I know now. Call me sheltered (and poor) I shop at Kohl’s and Target, T.J. Maxx is quality for me, not everyone has your good taste and let’s face it, money.” I probably could not afford to buy a handkerchief from your FUBU line. (What does that stand for anyway I’m dying to know)? If I could afford to buy one, it would be an honor, you have an amazing smile and a great sense of humor, also incredibly bright, sometimes a bit snippy but usually well deserved.

Barbara, you and Lori switch off, I wish you both were on at the same time, is it not good for the ratings? First of all, Barbara totally commands respect from the other sharks but Lori, and this is of course only my impression, those other sharks look at you like lunch meat. That’s not saying that I DO, but those money hungry men do, they look at selling over the internet as beneath and that is just not right. It’s as if they live in Manhattan penthouses and you are shlepping in from New Jersey. Nothing Wrong With Jersey, just The male Sharks’ condescending stares. Can you feel all the women’s love and the Sharks’ condemnation? It’s like how the theater actors talk about the television actors in today’s society. Is it fair? NO. Does it exist? You bet. I love that you stand up to them and are the perfect person for the right products, which inspires me to say “You go, girl. ( I apologize if that is not politically correct anymore.) If I had the right product for your brand of internet selling,  Laurie, I would run to you.

Barbara, of all the Sharks, you are the most elusive. We see you walking down from some stairs, you allude to a daughter but you are the ice queen and that is probably WHY you are so successful. If I went into business and wanted a well-connected shark, I’d probably pick you, just because you’re a woman, because you understand. I could be Norma Rae with you, because of you, thanks to you. Young women now take it for granted, but I don’t. We had to fight for everything and I bet you have to work longer and harder than any of these male counterparts. I so hope you have more money than Kevin, you have no idea! Barbara, I look up to you, and if I ever come up with the perfect idea, you would be my favorite shark. I have plenty of ideas, I just need to get my act together, I’m really more on the creative end. All I need are the right connections. Barbara? Want to mentor me? If not, is Daymond available?

*Shark Tank is the property of ABC, all legal rights belong to them. This was just a parody. And a good one at that.


Are Lance Armstrong And Honey Boo Boo REALLY Related?

Cyclist Lance Armstrong visiting the NIH (Nati...

Cyclist Lance Armstrong visiting the NIH (National Institutes of Health). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

What are the chances? I know! I couldn’t believe it either! Imagine my surprise when I read somewhere that Lance Armstrong was the third cousin, twice removed, step-uncle to Honey Boo Boo’s step-sister’s cousin’s,  mother-in-law’s niece. Well, okay, I did know this but that’s because I made the whole thing up; I lied. It seems like there’s a lot of lying going around these days so I figured I’d just tell a teeny tiny one and add to the chaos. The only difference?  I copped to it right away. I told the truth immediately and willingly because I know lying is wrong and some people would do anything to get away with an incredibly wild ego ride that lasted many, many years. I’d say more than seven years. Right, Lance hon?

Now, that brings to another little hon, it brings us up to Honey Boo Boo, a legend of her own making. I  swore I wouldn’t write about Honey Boo-Boo, I promised myself that I would just bite my tongue so hard that it bled but once again “bad” has just changed definitions for me. There are thousands of people who just love little miss cutie -pie- sunshine and then again, there are people like me who just don’t care about the her and her family and the mud, pigs, junk food and little beauty queen contests. So? I choose not to watch the shows. I’m not going to bash her and her family for goodness sake, if they want to do what they do, it’s fine.I’m more of a Grey’s Anatomy/Parenthood kind of gal. That’s my decision and that’s okay. For the people who love Honey Boo Boo go for it, no one is hating here.

As for Lance Armstrong, now that’s a harder conversation because I’m pissed. What an arrogant son of a bitch he seems to be. I didn’t watch every minute of Oprah’s OWN special so I’m still not completely sure what he did or didn’t say directly. Did he apologize straight out and sincerely, or not. I hear that he came close but didn’t seem really remorseful. Please correct me if I’m wrong. Whatever happened there are two sides of Lance Armstrong and I acknowledge that. There is the lying, cheating, arrogant Armstrong that wanted to conquer the world at ALL costs, fooled the nation, allegedly threatened players and their wives who wanted him to tell the truth and went to extremes to hide his doping habit that went on for many long years.

The other part of Lance Armstrong is the Livestrong Cancer Non-Profit Company. I will defend THAT Lance Armstrong ONLY because he gave a lot of money and brought cancer awareness to people and that was a good thing. That’s it. I too, wore that yellow junky bracelet with pride because I believed in him. How do I feel now? Like most people: disappointed, betrayed and disgusted, it’s the point where the two sides of Lance Armstrong meet. Personally, I only liked Lance when he was married to Sheryl Crow, and as soon as he left her when she was newly diagnosed with cancer I never liked him again. Done. Go figure, what a prince of a guy. He lost me then, it showed character, or lack thereof (not that I know the details.)

So, even if Honey Boo Boo is NOT related to Lance Armstrong they have one thing in common, I have no interest in either of them. For me, they are both a waste of time, energy and quality television. I am happy for the people who love Honey Boo Boo’s show, they should enjoy it while they can and I am deeply sorry for all the Lance Armstrong believers, myself included, that got swindled out of the meaning of a true champion. Lance Armstrong was not and is NOT a hero of any kind, he is not the role model your kids want to be; he was/is an immoral, deceitful, arrogant, liar who hurt many people especially his family, his own kids. “Don’t defend me anymore” he said to his son. Really?

If I had to pick a hero between Lance Armstrong and Honey Boo Boo, I’d go with the kid, at least she is honest. She’s being herself and that means a lot these days. As for Lance Armstrong, he’s probably still lying, I’d bet money on that one. If anyone agrees to let him ride competitively again, they are even crazier then he is.

* I posted that particular photo because he was speaking at the National Institutes of Health, oh the irony!


Worried Sick: One Big Crazy-Ass Blog Post

Emotion: Fear

Emotion: Fear (Photo credit: Cayusa)

I. Am. A. Robot. I have no affect. (Great psychology word, so expressive for non-expression) I lie on my bed with my computer lounging on my bulging stomach, my legs are crossed at my ankles. I still have a French manicure on my toes. I have no extreme emotions, neither sadness or happiness. No smile on my face, no frown. This is not me. I have felt like this for about a week; what has happened to me and why? The last few weeks have been busy and exciting, my daughter graduated from high school, she went to her prom, we went to her pre-prom party; all that was wonderful. I had feelings then, why not now? Here I am, not loving my new dog, not hating her, just coexisting. I don’t feel any emotion in any extreme way. “It’s a phase” I say to myself, “It will pass…you are tired.”

I try to analyze myself: am I hiding emotions, protecting myself, WAIT, I did feel something the other day that felt like strong responses. I felt RAGE and I felt IMPATIENT. But, now I’ve forgotten why–oh no, forgetting things again!! That IS indeed scary. I’ve also been worried lately about my health: I think I have Multiple Sclerosis, (which is now considered an autoimmune disease like my Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis? really?) Ovarian Cancer, Stomach Cancer, Alzheimer’s Disease (both for me and my husband) and various other horrible illnesses. All life threatening. I feel scared of the unknown, yes, it is known as ” anticipatory anxiety,” I am fearful. Should I just take a xanax (anti-anxiety medication) and shut up? I’m thinking maybe it’s time….I bet my pal, Jenny Lawson, Bloggess, extraordinaire, would urge me to take one…okay, maybe two. I should take medication “as needed” the trouble with anxiety is that while you are going through it you think you are sane…..when you are REALLY NOT thinking clearly (little crazy voice in your head says “but maybe you are….”) at all.

Am I just having a full-fledged anxiety attack? (sounds like it) Probably (now on paper too!!) You know, ever since I made that damn appointment with that neurologist it’s been hounding me like a dog with it’s smelly barbecue flavored chew toy. I should know, I have a dog, and let me tell you she does not let go of her bones, she grips it with all her meaty strength. She will bite me or anyone who gets in her way of food. I can understand the love of food but those bite marks hurt.  They make us all look like heroin addicts with her baby teeth bite marks. Where was I? Oh yes, neurologist: my internist suggested I go a few months ago for tingling under my feet and in my hand. I don’t think I even have those symptoms anymore but it’s one of those things I can’t cancel…..(because it’s bad luck) because I should check it out. In my mind, I see Ellis Grey from Grey’s Anatomy one of my favorite television shows and that scares me. neurology, neurologist, even going for an appointment scares me to death.  I may indeed have a diagnosis; I believe it’s called FEAR.

I don’t feel anything yet I worry, not a good life to be living. My own post is scaring me. I’ve been there before, I will get out of it again. Maybe I just need more sleep. Or take Albuterol since climbing up all those flights of stairs today at my daughter’s orientation at college made me wheeze and it won’t go away. (I have no medication for asthma). I just need to slow it down, in my body and in my mind. I have a solution: a nap; that would do me a lot of good and some herbal raspberry tea. It will put all my FEARS to rest and give me the sleep I’m lacking. I can never sleep well, the first night someplace new anyway. Maybe they have a term for that, I can add to my list of phobias.

p.s. the photo scares me too.


Carry On Tuesday: After All, Tomorrow Is Another Day

Sun Rays Through The Clouds

Sun Rays Through The Clouds (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

What happens when you have those kind of days when everything seems wrong, unfair and it is just plain relentless? It’s like a nightmare when someone is tugging on your arm and you feel the pain but they don’t let up, your arm falls off instead and you scream in raw pain. When people you thought you loved keep taunting you and making you fall deeper into a hole that buries you? When you are completely misunderstood? It gets to the point that the thought of suicide feels like a vacation.

I’m not counting pills or getting out the razor blades nor am I planning to jump from the top of a big skyscraper but suicide fantasies are real; they are a means for escaping pain, too much pain. Last night I indulged in one of them. My life, lately, has been a mess. Too many changes, too much stress, too much anger and it all got to me. Dysfunctional family members ganging up on me, needlessly, almost for sport, not taking the time to think about how that would feel to them. Other members of the family leaving me out, my physical limitations making it hard for me to walk as fast, they march on ahead, leaving me to walk in back of them, physically hurting and psychologically silencing me from their conversation.They are oblivious to my emotional and physical pain, what an incredible disappointment to me and exceedingly hurtful, physically and mentally. My Fibromyalgia and Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis are not new illnesses, I’ve had them for over five and a half years now, this should not come as a surprise. My husband’s comment to me when I brought it up to him was “I forgot, I didn’t notice.” I can’t forget and neither can all of my friends who have these crippling illnesses.

I call my old best friend and she understands, she knows without hearing more than a barely audible whisper of her name that something is terribly wrong. I know what she is thinking but it is not a death or an illness though it feels like that to me; I feel like I am dying slowly inside, emotionally. My friend and I don’t see each other often at all but we are there for each other when we need one another. I can count on her for anything, she can do the same. It’s nice to know, in this complicated world, there is someone from the past who knows you and your history so well that they understand without explaining. “She is my person” as they say in “Grey’s Anatomy;” she is my Christina to my Meredith. I will also NEVER let a “professional” doctor treat me in such an unprofessional way where it hurts me, never. This caused a lot of psychological damage as well. My initial judgments are sound.

Maybe sometime soon I will want to see the sun streaming in through the windows and will take solace in the few flowers that remain, the fading yellow tulips that my daughter gave me for Mother’s Day, the bottle of sugar- free black cherry seltzer water from CVS which reminds me vaguely of almonds. I won’t mind the bite marks on my hands and feet because I will appreciate the dog that I saved when I adopted her from the animal shelter, all curled up in the fetal position, peacefully sleeping, probably drugged. She’s a wild thing now, all energy, safe, happy, loved and a bit out of control.

Tomorrow is Sunday and I hope I will have the energy to get out of bed to take a shower and get dressed, if not happy to be alive than at least grateful. Maybe there will be a small slice of sunlight crossing my body and that will make me happy. My stomach, still clenched in knots, is ever so slowly beginning to relax. The doubts I had about myself, my judgment about people, my strongest quality will come back without question because after all, tomorrow is another, brand new day and I welcome it.

I close my eyes in peace, welcoming sleep and serenity, looking forward to possibilities and not thinking of death or gloom or tragedy. I need to sync my soul back into my body to align myself with the brightness and good, sanity and happiness. I will go downstairs now and play with my puppy that I have avoided for two days; I will give her a treat, I will stroke her silky fur and even if she tries to bite me, I will hand her a bone instead and grin.

p.s. A special THANK YOU to Keith from Carry On Tuesday for just Keeping On….I so appreciate it!


Plinky Prompt: TV Habits

A recreation of the logo for the first America...

A recreation of the logo for the first American Survivor season, Survivor: Borneo. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

  • TV Habits
  • TV: It’s Better Than Drinking or Smoking
    Emmys 2009 Well, there’s Grey’s Anatomy and of course Private Practice (they are practically connected by blood.) There’s Parenthood (which took the place of Brothers and Sisters which some moron took off the air.) Modern Family is a must see and I do admit my husband and I found ourselves back again, after many years, watching the last season of Survivor. I know……we swore we would never watch it again, but times were hard, and reality can be such a bitch that for one hour a week we sat on our faux leather couch, shut the door to the family room and escaped to whatever paradise island they were in. I’m not proud but I’m not ashamed. We may even watch it next season too……sometimes all you need is a little fantasy, your spouse’s arm around your shoulders and escapism. Besides, it was good to see Jeff Probst again, like a long-lost friend; there’s something comforting about that.

OMG, Get Over It! (Overused Slang and Sayings)

Grey's Anatomy (season 1)

Image via Wikipedia

“We Are So Done”

Taken straight out of Grey’s Anatomy from Meredith Grey herself: “Seriously?” Unfortunately I can’t stop using it. “That is true.” “Word.” Also, “Are you kidding me?” “Nah” ” “It’s just not happening” and finally: “It is what it is.” “Lol” “TTFN” (Ta Ta For Now!)

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“Oops I did it again…”

It wasn’t Halloween candy. It wasn’t even chocolate (the little drizzle on top certainly can’t COUNT as chocolate). It was, however, a gift from my son( and how can any mom reject a show of affection like that?)  Don’t even know what it was. “was” being the operative word.  It was a tiny square, ok it was a square of flakey, honey, maybe nuts, not sure, tastebud delight. I kid you not. It was Baklava and it wasn’t. It wasn’t drenched in honey like Backlava is but it wasn’t used sparingly. I loved it. Luckily, I had my bite, felt only a tiny bit guilty (no I didn’t) and enjoyed it. I hope to never see this luscious item in any store or bakery. I hope I can forget the flaky texture and the sweet nectar that is honey, forever. Of course, just want to clarify, only had a salad for dinner and there was no creamy ranch or thousand island dressing on it. Balsamic Breeze, just a little, or 7, spritzes right on the salad. The problem with salads? I’m still hungry.

To be even more annoying I am set up for the blood-plasma-platelet shot on Wednesday. I have no clue what I am doing. I made the appointment though (but as we all know when our dentist reminders come in the mail with their toothy smiles) I can put it off or cancel it. Trying not to think of the pain. Anyone ever have this shot? talk about a play on words, I shot myself in the foot. There’s a reason I’m not smiling

. My husband is at the first college procedures talk at the HS for our son who is a Junior. We wanted to tape it so I could see it but the teenagers (15 and 17) screamed like I planned to streak across the stage. We had mortified them again, just at the thought of bringing a Flip, my huband’s toy, to the meeting. So, my husband who is tired and has ADD Inattention is there,  texting me about what a germ zone it is in the auditorium. Purell. Lots of Purell. Now, pay attention!!! Thank goodness for my friend Sarah who is there as well. I trust her implicitly and I know she will be listening, with both ears; she has twins.  One always needs a trusted friend to be places when you can not attend. Grey’s Anatomy on tonight….