Not that kind of palm.

Yes, yes I realize this is last year’s post.  I am going to repost all of holy week.  Then two days after Easter I am having surgery.  After that regular scheduled mommy blogging will resume.  Thanks guys for your patience.

This year we will be observing Holy Week here at the Huckablog.  I am going to try to post something different for every day of Holy Week, and will start off with Jesus entering Jerusalem.  Hosanna!

As they approached Jerusalem and came to Bethphage and Bethany at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two of his disciples, saying to them, “Go to the village ahead of you, and just as you enter it, you will find a colt tied there, which no one has ever ridden. Untie it and bring it here. If anyone asks you, ‘Why are you doing this?’ say, ‘The Lord needs it and will send it back here shortly.”

They went and found a colt outside in the street, tied at a doorway. As they untied it, some people standing there asked, “What are you doing, untying that colt?” They answered as Jesus had told them to, and the people let them go.

When they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks over it, he sat on it. Many people spread their cloaks on the road, while others spread branches they had cut in the fields. Those who went ahead and those who followed shouted,
“Hosanna!”
“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”
“Blessed is the coming kingdom of our father David!”
“Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

Mark 11:1-10

Does anybody have any Palm Sunday memories to share with us?  Me either.  Why is that? Did all of the sugar at Easter make us forget?

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The whole dang town just needs to be quarantined!

Alternate title: But I don’t feeeeel good!

I know that I JUST said that I hate whiny blogs about sick people, but come on–this week has been unreal!

Thursday 3/4:  Talk to good friend whose little girl has strep throat.  We have already agreed to watch this child over night the upcoming weekend. tell friend that as long as she is 24 hours fever free, it will be fine.

Friday 3/5:  We meet playgroup for picnic at park.  Hear tales of strep and  stomach bug flying through local schools.  Let my kid eat his lunch without washing hands since we are on a picnic!

Saturday 3/6:  Son has his first friend ever spend the night.  She is 48 hours fever free.  Also, hear that Grandma has nasty stomach bug.  Poor Grandma!

Sunday 3/7:  Go on picnic with my family!  Son steps in mystery vomit on the merry go round. Ew.

Monday 3/8:  Get call from Doctor that my gallbladder sucks.  Great.  Consult scheduled to have it yanked out.  Kid seems extra whiny.

Tuesday 3/9:  Son wakes up with a cough and 99.3 degree fever.  I send him to preschool anyway.   It is not even a real fever, right?  Pick up son from school with a 101 degree fever.  Oops.  Also, Grandpa now has nasty stomach bug.  My dad is at their apartment caring for them.

Wednesday 3/10:  Son’s fever is worse.  Take him to doctor where his strep culture lights up faster than Woody Harrelson.  I have low grade fever.  Husband’s throat hurts.

Thursday 3/11:  I have doctor call in antibiotic for my obvious case of strep.  I take first pill of amoxicillin at 6ish.  Hear that Dad now has nasty stomach bug. There is a shocker.

Friday 3/12:  I wake up itchy.  I go to bathroom and discover huge, red, softball sized welts all over me!  I freak the hell out.   Call Mom.  She is busy caring for my sick dad.  Call Arwen’s mom (a nurse), advised to stop antibiotics and call doctor immediately.  I do that.  Swelling gets worse.  I pack up still sick three year old and run for the doctor’s office.  There The Son finds gum stuck under a chair in the waiting room and plays with it!  I try to sanitize him with purell and kleenex.  Nurse gasps at my lumps!  Am now officially  allergic to things that end with -cillin. This is no longer a mystery! Get huge freaking steroid shot in ass to keep allergic reaction from getting worse.   Advised to not take any antibiotics for at least 24 hours.  Still have strep throat. Oh, but won tickets to see a ballet on Sunday night.  Hear that JHJ is sick, sorry about that JHJ.

Saturday 3/13:  AWAKE!  Steroids make you unable to sleep!  I got a whole truckload at one time delivered to my left butt cheek!  I AM AWAKE!  After zero sleep I am clearly thinking clearly, so I demand my family dress all in green and drive to Capital City for a St. Patrick’s day parade.  It is cold.  We all feel like crap, but fun must be had-damnit!  Call mom on way to Capital City to secure childcare for Sunday night’s ballet.   Stand in cold for an hour watching bagpipes and people who have painted their dogs green.  End day by taking child to a birthday party–we had already bought the gift!

Sunday 3/14: Awaken to weird burning feeling all over my face.  Look in mirror and resemble an heirloom tomato.  Fever is back.  Throat hurts.  Hightail it to pharmacy to fill -cillin free antibiotics.  PharmD says that the steroid shot made me uber sensitive to sunlight and I got fried at parade.  Fun.  Scary red lumps? check.  Red burny face? check.  Infected throat? check.  Messed up gallbladder? Yup.  Oh and just for kicks, pms.

Call to ensure babysitter for tonight, oh hell yeah I am still going, I WON these tickets.  Mom has nasty stomach bug.  I have no sitter.  I want to cry.  Am also contemplating never going over to the house of vomit again. Ick.  Sorry Mom.  Hit the phones and facebook looking for a sitter willing to come to my abode of germs.  BiL comes through!  YAY!  I am sick, but enjoy the show anyway.  Heck, I think it made it better!

Okay, you are all caught up.  We are still alive–and I am going to be well enough to sanitize this house tomorrow because the madness must end!

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I was going to title this Germs, Gays, and Guns but that just seems so tacky!

We all have strep throat.  I hate blogs where people whine non-stop so I will just say that it feels like I have been gargling with thumbtacks and leave it at that.

There have been two posts floating around in my head and neither one is complete, or honestly that good, so how about I throw them together and see what happens.  It could not be worse than telling you about the fluctuations of our temporal thermometer.

I am officially all about facebook now.  I can totally see the appeal.  It is the voyeurism of reality television only with that person you met once at that thing or your mother’s second cousin once removed’s preacher instead of a total stranger!   The thing about facebook is you learn details about people that you never would have known if not for that easy friend button.   What have I learned?  Every single boy I was attracted to as a teenager up until this jerk was a homosexual!   Really.  Fine.  I am glad they are happy and being themselves.  I don’t think a person’s sex life has anything to do with their worth.   I judge that on how much money they have.  Kidding!  Good grief.

What I want to know is what it was about 13-16 year old me that made those boys want to date me?  Hmm.  Was I nice or gullible or accepting or what?  I refuse to believe it was because I had any masculine features.  I was/am a girly girl and had breasts out of the womb (or at least fifth grade).  Why was I attracted to them?  Well, they were cute and kind and I hated jocks.  Feel free to look into your crystal ball and explain it to me.  (disclaimer:  I hope those previous two paragraphs did not come across as rude, or judgmental.  I am pretty open minded, yet ignorant, all at the same time.)

Next up in the I am barely lucid strep screed I have going on today, guns.  Specifically, guns in your house.   I am a Republican.  Surely you already knew this.  More specifically I am a Constitutional Conservative.   This means that I am A-Ok with you and your gun.  Use it to kill yourself  a baby seal for its coat or to rid your house of a bad guy or show it to your friends to make your penis feel bigger.  Whatever. I really don’t care.   BUT.  There are no guns in my house.  There are two reasons, both of which I have been struggling with, and my husband would appreciate your telling me to get over both of them, because he wants a handgun.

Reason one:  The Husband does not hunt.  He has no need to brag to his friends.  The only reason we would have one would be a protection type thing.  That and to piss off our hippie friends.  Fine, so we would have a gun for “protection”.  We also have a very smart and curious son.  One who is already obsessed with guns, which he knows about only from playing with his friends.  We, of course, would have a very good safe and trigger lock.  So how is a gun that is locked up tighter than Fort Knox going to protect you when there is a bad guy in your house?  How can one both keep kids safe and also have easy access when needed? (note:  We live in a very safe and quiet community–this alleged bad guy in the house is quite a stretch.)

Reason two:  People go crazy.  I could go crazy.  My Husband could go crazy.  Anything could happen.  We both have people in our families that have been totally nutso and it could happen….do I really want easy access to a gun IF….. ( did you see the BIG IF there?).  I guess that is a crazy worry, but I can’t get it out of my head.  For example, there was a gun in the apartment when this happened.  Maybe that is what is really causing this stupid worry–which I know is not fair to my husband, the kindest, sweetest person on the planet,  but a worry is a worry and the thought of a gun in my house makes me feel icky.   Thoughts?

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Still Inconvenient

This month’s postcard!  I totally forgot, thanks for the reminder.

November 16, 1915

Miss Martha B.

Scranton PA

Friday eve, 7 P.M.

Please Pardon me for not writing Wed. eve as I promised.  Am just as busy as can be.  Mr. Nichols is away on his vacation and you know what that means! Ha!  Will write as soon as convenient.

Fred

I think Mr. Nichols went to rehab.  Or maybe a quick stay at the sanitarium.   Speaking of crazy people,  I am still working on this whole Lexapro withdrawal thing, although it is much, much better.

In November I started getting this crazy weird pain in my side.  It really was more annoying then painful.  Since I am prone to hypochondriacism I googled it and then I ignored it until February.  When it still did not go away I went to the Doctor.  She sent me for a full abdominal ultrasound (no fun when not knocked up!).  It showed nothing.  So last week I went for a dye scan thing.  Turns out when the ob/gyn pumped me full of estrogen last fall to stop that other problem(when I looked for a link to that whiny post I realized I never told you about it.  Good for me.  It fell into the waywayway tmi category anyway.) (it still was not caused by breastfeeding! Was not!) the doctors may have over done it.  That particular medicine turned to sludge in my gallbladder.  Ew.  No stones, just sticky goo clogging up the works.

I got the test results back today…..and my gallbladder is only functioning at 26%.  Not good.  Just in time for my brain to be clear I am going to have to have surgery. Boo.  In other words?  Blogging is still not super convenient, but I promise I have written dozens of lovely posts in my head!

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Stupid groundhog.

I am ready for spring.  Yes, I realize I still have the grouchies, but this has been a long winter, right?  I want to buy hanging pots and put out my ceramic toad (it’s a regional thing).

So,  I declare it SPRING.  (Remember that episode of The Office where Michael Scott walks into the room and yells, “I DECLARE BANKRUPTCY!“) My yard may still be a dead and brown mud pit, my jacket may still be in regular rotation, but on my blog it will be warm and bright.  Have some flowers.  These were all taken at Keukenhof gardens, near Amsterdam, in April of 2007–pre-Nikon, mostly by me, but one may have been taken by the hubs.

Sigh.  Maybe we need to take up a collection to get me back to Holland.

p.s.  Grouchies are getting better–gonna step down again tonight.  The finish line is in sight!

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Someone has the grouchies.

No, that is the GROUCHOS.

Well, yeah, I guess he has the grouchies  too–what three year old doesn’t?   But this post is about someone else’s grouchies…Mine.  Remember around a year and a half ago when I tried coming off Lexapro?  What?  You mean you don’t remember each minute detail of my pharmaceutical history? I mentioned it here and here.   Anyway.  At time the benefits of being on a small dose of SSRI were greater than the side effects.  That means I have been on Lexapro, originally prescribed for Post partum depression, for over three years.   I am not so much post partum anymore!   I need to see how I am without the drugs.  I need to stop having (taken from their website: I may or may not have these particular side effects.):

• Drowsiness, dizziness
• Sleep problems
• Mild nausea, gas, heartburn, upset stomach, constipation
• Weight gain, inability to lose weight
• Decreased sex drive, impotence, or difficulty having an orgasm
• Dry mouth, yawning, ringing in your ears.

Right-O.  So those pretty much suck, right?  Only these are the side effects of weaning off Lexapro, which I have been actively doing for the past month:

• Irritability
• Agitation
• Dizziness
• A burning or tingling sensation
• Anxiety
• Confusion
• Headache
• Insomnia
• Tiredness.

Wowza! Super fun!  We can add to that a general dread of blogging.  I do not like a single thing I have written for the past three plus weeks.  I feel dizzy when I start typing.  Re-sizing pictures makes me nauseous.   I have considered pulling the plug on Thehuckablog.

This is where you say, “Oh NO! You can’t do that! I check your blog first thing every morning!”

I will wait while you leave a comment.

Okay, anyway,  I hate blogging right now, but I know I won’t as soon as this general suckiness is over.   Thanks for hanging in there with me and understanding why there are not forty posts about how my head hurts and the room has a distinct spinning sensation.

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Awkward Family Photos

You guys know this site , right?  My family has more than it’s fair share of chortle inducing  photos–and many of them include a certain birthday boy.   He perfected the art of looking annoyed with us pretty early on, but it was just an act.  I think.  Anyway, nothing says Happy Birthday like  cringe worthy posts!

This was taken 1992–I was 12 and JHJ was 9.  We were at some sort of educational fort thing.  Our vacations were always educational–something that The Hubs and I plan to continue even when we have a surly teenager.

I win the worst outfit award (I have never been to Hawaii, so this outfit was probably from TJ Maxx) , but JHJ gets props for the coordinating blue swim shoes and free hat.

Fast forward to 1999 (I think),  I was 19 and JHJ was 16.  He is wearing entirely black polyester.  In New Mexico.  In August.   This picture makes me wonder if he was thinking about jumping.  Or pushing.   I have vivid memories of this day.  We were staying in a condo in Santa Fe and then driving for day trips.  That morning we knew we were going to be hiking so Dad said JHJ could not wear his black shoes because it was dangerous.  Instead he had to wear white tennis shoes.   Look closely and you can tell who won.   I am wearing Doc Martin sandals (it was 1999, all college students wore docs), extremely practical for hiking.  Good thing my dad never notices my feet.

Even with the black polyester, Mom wins the ugly shirt award–embroidered Noah’s ark on anyone older than three is a no win.  Sorry Mom.

Happy Birthday Punk.

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