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Archive for the ‘ Poop ’ Category

Ewwwww, GROSS!


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Well, here it is.  Sunday.  About twice a month my SIL sees fit to come and visit her mother for an average of about an hour and a half.  NORMALLY she shows up long after the “poop-time-frame”.  Today, however, she miscalculated and appeared before H was off the bedpan.  So, by default, (and CAUSE I SAY SO), the bedpan duty and diapering and dressing of H falls to her.

I was sitting in here doing bloggy stuff and I realized that she was running the water in the tub in the guest bath.

Well, this is odd.

Normally, you just go in and dump the, ahem, contents of the bedpan into the potty and run water in it from the sink and dump again and wipe out whatever… stuck, with a bit of toilet paper.  You also dump the plastic, Folger’s coffee can full of urine from the catheter bag into the potty, fill with water and repeat.  All of this while wearing latex gloves and then following up behind yourself spraying the facet handles and bedpan handles and coffee can handles with spray bleach.  Not to mention the interior of the receptacles.

Well, cuorisity got the better of me when I heard her spraying something over and over and the bathtub running.

Crap, the only thing in there that sprays right now is the spray bleach and last time she used it she ruined the bathmats… somehow, both of them.

So I go in there and she has the toilet brush in one hand and the urine bucket in the other and she is “cleaning” the thing out and dumping the contents into the bathtub.

“Millie!  You don’t do that in the bathtub!”

“Oh, I didn’t dump the pee in there!”  As she sticks the toilet brush under the tap.

I just left.  It really doesn’t matter at this point what I say, cause it all has to be cleaned anyway.  People really do bathe in that tub.

Does anyone want to come and visit me? 😉

Ho Ho Humm


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I don’t know what to do next.  Holiday decorating is going… well, slowly.  *sigh*  Just can’t seem to get in the spirit of things…  My whole house seems to smell of poop and sadness.    Well, maybe that’s just my take on things, cause nobody else has mentioned it.  No.  Do NOT call the health department.  Really.  STEP AWAY FROM THE PHONE.

The tree is up and it’s one of those pre-lit ones that looks wonderful when the lights actually WORK on it.  Last year, (only the third year we had it), the entire middle section didn’t light up.  So I just piled on more lights and it looked OK.  For some reason I was expecting it to work this year when I plugged it in.  No.  It hates me.  It’s been talking to those elitist live bushes in the front yard that are (still) pissed off about the snow.

I DID, however, come across this most excellent recipe for a holiday… favorite(?) that I am willing to share with you all.  You may have seen it before… but it’s worth a re-read.

World’s Greatest Fruitcake

1c water

1c sugar

4 large eggs

2 c dried fruit

1 tsp. baking soda

1 tsp. salt

1c brown sugar

Lemon juice

nuts

1 bottle of whiskey

This is very easy to make and awesomely delicious, especially for the tiny amount of trouble.  Assemble all ingredients and be sure you have enough counter space.

Sample the whiskey to check for quality.  Grab a large bowl.  To be sure the whiskey is of highest quality, pour one cup and drink.

Repeat process.

Turn on electric mixer, beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl.  Add one tsp. sugar and 1 cup baking soda and give it a beating.  Check the whiskey and turn off the mix machine thingy.  Add two whole eggs to the bowl and chuck in the dried fruit.  Mix on the turner.  When the fruit gets stuck in the beaters pry ’em loose with a drewscriver.

Check whiskey once more for tonsisticity.  Shtir in two cups of salt.  Or something white.  Pour another cup of whiskey, use both hands so you don’t spill.  Sift the lemon juice and strain your nuts.  Add one table.  Spoon.  Of sugar or whatever you have handy.

Grease the oven.  Turn the cake tin to 350 degrees.  Don’t forget to time the setter.  Aw, heck save time and put it where it would end up anyway: in the garbage.  Except the whiskey.  Finish the whiskey and crawl to bed.

Now, see.  Wasn’t that a simple recipe?  I believe I’ve made it before, but for some reason the whole episode seems kinda foggy to me…

Merry Christmas, everybody!

Someone else's poop.


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I promised John I wouldn’t post about his… stomach virus issues, so I’m not.

HOWEVER, this does not mean Lisa is safe from my marauding posting.

Years ago, Lisa and I and her daughter Brittany, Kessa  and Keelan were on our way to, (or from… can’t remember) my parents house when they lived in Trinity, Texas.  Kessa and Brittany were both 10 years old and Keelan was 8.  It was a good three hour drive and we were on the north side of Houston…. somewhere.  Not any area we were terribly familiar with.

Lisa and I were chatting away, as usual, while she drove and the girls were doing their own thing in the back seat.  Lisa squirmed a little bit and mentioned that her stomach was feeling bad.  A few minutes later she was moving around in her seat looking pained and she said her stomach was really hurting.  Seconds later she was speculating that she was going to have diarrhea.  Momentarily there was some deep breathing and rapid panting that I swear she had done in the delivery room, combined with extreme butt clenching exercises.  She was writhing in the seat as she drove us faster and faster down the highway and we all searched frantically for a convenient place for her to go potty.

The priceless thing I will NEVER forget was when we were up to about 80 miles an hour and Lisa was bouncing up and down in the drivers seat, I glanced back at the girls in the back.  It had gone deathly quiet back there and three pairs of eye’s had grown saucer sized and were bouncing back and forth from me to Lisa on mildly terrified faces.

I wanted to laugh so hard right then!  I mean I felt SO bad for Lisa and was really a little worried myself that we weren’t going to find a bathroom in time, but you should have seen the looks on those girl’s faces!

We finally spied a Target and zoomed in the parking lot where Lisa leaped out of the car and raced in while I got out and went around to the driver’s side to get us out of the firelane.  We drove over to a parking spot and watched and one of the girls piped up and said, “… ya think she made it?”

In a few minutes she came out with a sack in her hands and headed for the car.

She had purchased a potent anti-diarrheal and a box of Tucks Medicated Wipes after she came out of the bathroom.

There were no more incidences the rest of the way home, but I glanced back several times just to see the difference in the looks on the girls faces from when we were desperatly seeking a bathroom.  I laughed every time I looked at them and the memory of the sheer terror in their eyes still makes me grin.


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This far into this month, what do you really expect?  Two loads of laundry, cleaned up the kitchen, swept and mopped the living room, (I did the hall and H’s room yesterday), wiped down the doors with Scott’s Liquid Gold, and a host of other mundane, boring, somewhat depressing things.  At least it seems depressing NOW!  Thanks a lot for making me THINK about it!

H had a U.P. and it was handled without incident.  It happened this morning when she woke up and was in the process of doing a poo.  I was instantly alerted to the unfolding situation.  Oh joy.  Oh Gawd!  Just let me finish this cup of coffee! “Oh sure, Henrietta, no problem!”  And in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t!

She did the usual thing about talking it to death just because it worries her so much for anything unexpected to happen to her body.  I assured her that everybody poops and she will do it when she has food that is ready to come out the other end.  It’s natural and not a bad thing and yadda, yadda, yadda, we’ve been through this a million times.

On the up side the paranoid little freak is taking it much better than she used to!  No tears or headache pills were needed.  The day progressed as usual and she even got out of bed as usual.

The younger offspring is probably going to suffer an untimely death tomorrow and that will give me something to write about then.  She is about to drive me nuts.  She was fine with me all day and as soon as John gets home she turns on me like a devil child.  And neither one of us can understand why.  It’s not like she’s even pitting us against one another.  John doesn’t put up with her acting like that anymore than I do.  I hope the doctor gave it her best guess cause, I swear, if this medication doesn’t work, she may not live long enough to try any other kind.

The owls are out to get me.


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The more I look at the pictures of the little owl fellow that flew around in our garage, the more I think it’s a baby.  And not just because it’s small, either.  No, I have found pictures of breeds that are much smaller.  See below.

Pygmy Owl

Pygmy Owl

No, I think it’s a baby just because it’s so ruffled looking.  It doesn’t have the smoothness the adult owls have in the pictures I am finding online.  But then again, it was in MY garage.  I get ruffled every time I go out there too and that obnoxious little dog barking like that…  I bet he was thinking, “If ONLY I were bigger and I could just eat that damned thing to shut it up!”  I don’t know for sure, but since I am having trouble finding a picture that looks like it, I think that it’s a youngster.


Now here’s my story about the last time I had to deal with an owl.  I mean before this.

I was 18 years old and my brother, Cam was 10.  Our dad was in hospital having some heart bypasses, so we were staying at home by ourselves while our mother was at the hospital with him.  We lived in a big ol’ two story house and he and I had never stayed by ourselves before.  (I mean, OF COURSE, right?)  I had been hearing a strange little scratching noise in the wall of my bedroom at night and had decided we must have mice and made a mental note to tell Mither about it as soon as everything calmed down and got back to a more normal routine.  The chimney to the living room fireplace shared my bedroom wall and it never occurred to me that there could be anything in there.  This went on for three nights.  Then, one evening, I was sitting on the couch in the living room reading and all of the sudden there was this gigantic WHOOSH of ashes that flew up in the fireplace.  I couldn’t see anything and then this huge white face with two enormous eyes turned around and looked at me and blinked.  It was a gigantic barn owl.  IT WAS HUGE, PEOPLE.  It just stood there in the fireplace and looked around and at me.  I just sat on the couch without moving like a scared little kitten.  I wasn’t really scared even, I just had no idea what to do.  My brother was asleep and besides that… he was 10.  I called Mom and told her and by this time I watched the owl hop up on top of the damper and sit there.  I stuck my head in the fireplace and could see two great big talons wrapped around the metal edge of it.  I counted myself lucky that I hadn’t received any owl shit in the face, wondered briefly if it really was slick, (My pop was always saying one thing or another was “slicker than owl shit”.), and pulled my head back out.  Mom had said she didn’t know what to do either and she’d be home the next day.  So we agreed that it needed water and food, as it had been there for at least three days, (that’s what I’d been hearing in the wall, actually the chimney).  So I got a little bowl of water and some lunch meat and put it in the fireplace.  I then closed the heavy metal chain link screen…and went to bed.

I have to say that except for the initial whooshing landing in the fireplace I was never really scared of it.  I felt very sorry for it and was worried it was going to die of dehydration, but I just never got the feeling it was threatening.

It never touched the food or water at all, that I could tell.  Perhaps it wanted mayo and wheat bread with pickles.  Perhaps it was a mustard kind of owl.  I don’t know why it turned up it’s…beak to my dinner selection, I only know it did.

So, that next night my dear, brave mither came home and we set about getting the owl out of the house.  It had jumped back down in the fireplace.  Mither was terrified out of her mind awed by it.   I opened the screen and we waited for it to decide to come out.  It was probably a little shy and wondered why we kept peeking around the corner at it.   Finally, it did and we ran in to try to shoo it…somewhere, and it flew straight into the sliding glass door.  No, we had not thought to open it first.  It was freakin cold outside and that’s my excuse.  Whatever.  Anyway, it smacked it’s beak pretty hard and was dazed and confused.  It was like it was competing with us… still think we won the dazed and confused contest…

The poor thing flew around the living room for a short bit and landed on things you wouldn’t think it would choose to land on and then flew through the breakfast area, kitchen, utility room and into the game room, completely avoiding the sliding glass door that stood open.  We followed.  Finally we had it somewhere we thought we could get it out easily.  There was a pair of French doors that one of us opened all the way.  I kept trying to shoo it toward the doors and it seemed oblivious.  It flew all over and finally when I was wondering if we were keeping it and could it please live in my brother’s room, it looked straight at the doors and I almost heard it say, “Ah ha!”  I saw the little light bulb go on over it’s head and it took off.  With both full size doors open it had to tilt diagonally to fit through the opening.  The doors were six feet across.  I don’t even know what the diagonal measurement was.  A lot.  Freakin’ huge-ass owl.

I have to point out that my dear mither was a squealing mess, cowering against whatever wall she could back up against and standing in doorways ready to flee, whilst making small squeaking noises.  Pretty much useless for herding owls.  Luckily, she has proven invaluable for a large multitude of other things… and we all love her dearly.

If you head on over to Psychicgeek, Witchypoo has written a very moving post about Ivy, a two year old little girl that is desperatly ill and is having a life saving treatment withheld from her.  It’s all a bunch of bureaucracy and her mother is trying to do everything possible to help her.  This is an online company that does petitions and I want you to go there and sign up.  Ivy needs all the help she can get.


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