I’m just dangling a toe in the waters of blogging again… I need a pedicure. Be back a little later. 😉
I just heard the most disturbing bit of trivia on The Military Channel.
“The average Marine weighs 120 lbs.”
How depressing is that? I weigh more than most Marines…
Hi, gang! How’s it hangin’? We’re all good here in HalfAssticland. I am preparing for a visit to Mither and Pop’s house here in the next couple of days. Mither told me the last time I was there that I was expected back soon to complete the ginormous kitchen redo we began when last I visited her.
I am going back on Friday and taking EXTRA slave labor with me. Connie, has foolishly sweetly made her services available and I may be a tiny bit slow in some areas, (mathematically), but I know when to take advantage of a unwitting victim.
She offered to help. I screamed yes and got someone to notarize a statement of agreement right there on the spot.
(Having a notary on retainer is one extremely useful tip when attempting to take advantage of good friends.)
So there’s no backing out now and we are off to die in the evil clutches of a maniacal kitchen makeover mad woman.
I have before pictures of Mither’s kitchen to share, but am going to wait until we are through and I can do side by side comparisons. In the mean time, I have other pictures of questionable quality to regale you with.
Ok, I was bored and it was late as evidenced by the shot of my TV with the Late, late night talk show on it. My point? Yes, I’m getting there! You people are pushy today…
That lamp in the picture, (the giant floating sphere beside Craig’s head), is not on his desk. It’s in my living room. Confused yet?
It’s a reflection and anytime I am sitting in my favorite chair and one of the kids is reading or doing homework on the couch with the lamp on, that’s what it looks like to me. It’s annoying and I keep considering writing in to his show to complain… I just can’t think how I’d state my complaint…
Next up here we have proof positive that Starbucks really DOES love me. Nothing rolls better than a Target shopping cart and the only thing that can top that is one with the nifty little cup holders you can borrow from the in-store Starbucks to clip on the sides and hold your coffee away from your purses. Kessa and I are all over this whole phenomenon.
He’s busy munching on a grasshopper one of the grandkids tossed into his web. He was really cool to watch and I wonder if he’s still there. I’ll let you know on Friday when we go.
Rather self-explanatory, don’t you think?
The tank at Mith and Pop’s is BADLY in need of a good rainfall. It’s getting all scummy.
Scorpion I found in the bathroom lavatory and smushed with a jar of petroleum jelly I was removing my eye makeup with.
This guy was on the wall inside the door of my room, about two feet down from the light switch. This was caught right before I murdered it with my flip flop.
Oops. Did I say “caught”? No, darling. Not in your wildest dreams. Taken, I meant TAKEN. As in the photo was taken.
I received this in the mail the other day and was a tad… disturbed. I mean, obviously the gigantic roach has been photoshopped onto the child’s forehead. Still… How very disgusting and horrid that anyone, yes, even in this economy, would swing so low with the scare tactics.
I had to snicker though… “Please share this with mothers only”. No father anywhere could possibly react properly, I guess.
Just to see what happened I left it on the wet bar, a.k.a. catch all area where everyone dumps their purses and leaves and picks up notes to others, etc. These people won’t throw away my mail so I knew it would stay. For days and days I kept turning it photo side up and the next time I saw it, it was turned over, face down. Finally Keelan snatched it up and demanded, “What the heck is up with this!? It’s gross, it creeps me out, and I want to throw it away!”
I started laughing and so she just did.
This is a test. Look closely at the photo above. NO! Never mind! That’s exactly what I don’t want you to do! How ’bout just glance at it and try to imagine doing it WITHOUT MY YOUR GLASSES.
OK, what is it? What do you do with it? THIS IS NOT A TRICK QUESTION. (ok, maybe a little.)
Now, I will put on my glasses and show you what it REALLY says.
Do you see the teeny tiny little “with”, before the words Fabric Softener? Do you also see that NO WHERE on the front of the bottle does it say DETERGENT? OK, that’s not true. It actually does say it in equally teeny tiny words over on the right, but my gawd! It shouldn’t be that hard to figure out what the heck you’re using when you start pouring laundry ingredients and mixed drinks!
I thought I’d never get all the soap out of the fabric softener dispenser.
I really need to just get some contact lens.
OH! Don’t forget to drop in on this post and enter my contest where you could win fabulous cash and prizes!
Whatever. It’s some good shit.
Till next time! Don’t let a perfectly good HalfAssticalism go by with out documenting it!
Remember waaaaay back when I was having all sorts of problems with my website having nasty pop ups announcing that you now have herpes for reading me? Remember that?
Sure you do. You’re just in denial. But don’t worry about it cause I am here to remind you!
Anyway, right after my blog caught an STD and I thought it was fixed, but before it was actually fixed, (and I went on to shed tears and pull out hair and converse with my brother, Cam, a.k.a. Pooter Guru, and he worked on it for ages and then turned it over to his buddy Shawn who fixed it! Cause he’s a freakin’ genius!) Anyway, yeah… after that, but before that? I posted about a contest in which I was searching for a story for my new/temporary header, since my old, personalized, swank one had gone the way of the mastodons.
I felt terrible when I realized that the virus was still there after I posted about the contest and readership fell off a great deal, due to the fact that no one wanted to touch my syphilitic site with a ten foot pole.
I can’t blame them either. I didn’t post a new post for a long time. Meanwhile it was really, really getting fixed.
However there were a few steadfast readers that wished to take their chances with a sure and certain instant death and enter my bloggy contest. After all, the prizes and shiz were really… well, they weren’t really all THAT, but then I have some readers of questionable taste. 😉
HI! LOVE YOU GUYS!
Anyway, the plague struck my blog and then it was fixed and then Henrietta was in the process of dying and then she did die and that whole episode of life was a vast desert of nothing but missing time. I feel like I don’t even remember any of it, now. Like a bad dream.
Well, that’s how the contest got derailed. But now it’s back on!
Here is a pic of the booty.
Now, just gaze at my header and dream up a really good story for the scene. I mean at first glance it appears to be a man walking down a rustic lane with sheep grazing peacefully in the pasture next to him. But… where is he going? Where has he been? Who did he see? Did they argue? Was it a huge fight?! Is there a dead body somewhere? Are those sheep vaccinated!?
Just run with it.
I will decide the winner and ship all this crapola, (I’m pretty sure that’s a Messican word.), right to your doorstep for you to open just like on a birthday and “Oooo” and “Aaaaah” over. You will be awed by the love, care and colored tissue paper my very own hands have packed it with.
I may even spray my favorite scent on the whole shebang.
PLUS, as I indicated in the previous posts here and here and here and here and here, (OK, not really but I’m trying to make it sound like I’ve been up to this for a good while.), you can use the contest as blog fodder and all the thousands of people who read your site will then click on your link over to me!
Am I am maniacal genius or WHAT? I will post all links to your, (my faithful readers- both of you) sites and all the millions of people who troll through faithfully and read every word I have ever written will link back to you as well!
I really should just run the damn world.
Now. Go and read the Official Rules and Regulations as set forth by the gaming committee.
Last October, when John was first diagnosed with congestive heart failure and also pronounced a newly diagnosed diabetic, we were managing all kinds of shit you can’t even imagine. Nothing was just “cut and dried”, simple. So many problems and so many issues. Feet and legs swelling, blood sugar levels, trouble breathing, coughing, constant running nose, sleep apnea, amazingly severe stomach aches, etc.
It was very touch and go for a good while there and finally it looked as if he was out of the woods and was definitely going to live.
He was in the hospital for a rock solid month. Of course I was too and the girls and my SIL were left with patching together a way to take care of Henrietta.
I suppose I should point out to any new readers that Henrietta was my MIL who lived with us and is now deceased. She was wheelchair bound and incontinent, and requiring of much care.
When John was admitted to the hospital and the diabetes was discovered, his blood sugar was 566. Normal is between 100 and 130ish. (At least that’s what we’re supposed to be shooting for.) So he was immediately shot with insulin. His blood sugar was taken 4 times a day and he was given insulin. Every. Single. Time.
I am watching all this and they show me how to do it and I know I will have no problems with it. I give my dogs all their shots, (except rabies which has to be given by the vet due to state regulations). Anyway, I am just not a squeamish person.
So I begin giving his his injections in the hospital when they brought them in and on it went from there.
Once we got home and settled into a routine I got John to give himself a few of them and he saw how easy it is. He just really would rather I did it. And still does.
Now he was out of work for 3 months and was a little bit of a nervous wreck about going back. I mean he was eager and all, just really worried about whether or not he could do it. He was way too thin and super weak compared to his old self. You would be surprised at the durability a grocery store manager has to have. So, by the time he convinced his doctors to release him to go back to work, we have been doing this insulin injection thing for a good long while.
Simple. Check it 3 times during the day and give meds, (Novolog), according to what the blood sugar level is.
Then take it at night and give the night time dose of the other kind of insulin that works when you are fasting. As in overnight. (Lantus)
We had it DOWN, baby
The Novolog, (remember-daytime) I only gave him 6 units, three times a day.
The Lantus, (overnight) he was supposed to always get 30 units.
Two very different medicines to do the same thing, yet requiring VERY different doses.
So the morning of John’s first day back at work dawns and I am up with him helping him get ready mostly because I know how nervous he is. It has been, after all, three months. He is given all kinds of love and support from the girls as well and we are all in close to the back door with him when we realize he hasn’t had his insulin yet! I run to the fridge and grab the correct insulin pen, dial it to the amount I am going to give him, poke it into his stomach and push the plunger.
Now as the plunger on an insulin pen depresses it clicks once for every unit being given. There is a vast lot of difference between 8 clicks or units and 30.
John’s head snapped up as my eyes became large and roundish. We stood staring at each other for a minute with me thinking something along the lines of, “How can I suck it back out?!”. I pulled the needle out and he said, “How many units did you just give me?”.
And I replied, “Thirty?”.
So immediately I am scrambling for Twinkies and ice cream cups, potato chips and even thought about offering him a beer.
Right… Before work.
It was not a pretty picture. He was fighting crashing all day. And I was at home crying all day. I felt SO awful.
He texted me about noon saying that he was doing OK and had consumed his weight in carbs trying to stay upright.
That day, his first day to go back to work, was the only time I have messed up with the insulin and honestly, his diabetes is such a non-issue now that he only gets insulin about once every couple of months.
Do you think he’d ever let me forget that though? 😉