Deep sigh
I sat down to write this entry and the giant squid decided to write it with me... You think it's easy to write with His Holiness hovering?
very lightSWAT
Cowboy here. Mini amazon on my lap thinks she's in a spank free zone.
"Piss-ant!"
"Bambina--"
Cowboy had to go out of town for a couple of days. I thought... ohhhh a couple days on my own - I'll eat LARGE. He didn't tell me that Bull was coming back from Arkansas that evening and I wouldn't be on my own after all. Tsk. Then I remembered how easy it was to get Bull to see things (life, food, naughty stuff) my way so I didn't feel badly at all.
Cowboy here. I told Bull I don't care what the imp eats, just make sure she eats a lot and gets plenty of rest.
Bull is great entertainment. I think he should be listed in Ripley's Believe it or not. You know those John Deere machines where there's this humonguous shovel thing that scoops up the earth? That's Bull when he's eating. He ate an entire blueberry pie while he waited for me to warm up his dinner. Dinner was 2 bowls of pasta e fagioli and an entire pan of lasagna. He also helped himself to a platter of garlic bread and finished the linguini I was eating. (I took my bowl of ice cream into my bedroom to eat so I could eat without sharing.)
Cowboy called while he was away to see if I was resting and eating and behaving.
Of course I was!
another very lightSWAT
He casually mentioned that Bull and I should stay OUT of his office... Oh! Good idea!
So... I sent Bull to the store to get food reinforcements... and the pups and I went into Cowboy's office. I had to pick the lock because the Neanderthal changed them.
not-so lightSWAT
...And I noticed the gun cabinet had a new lock... I considered that a challenge so I picked it also. Took a little longer than usual... I think I need to practice on that one a few more times.
"SAR!"
"Jeez, you don't have to shout."
Cowboy doesn't like for anyone to eat in his office. Coffee is okay but no food things.
The pups and I settled on his leather couch... I was going to read a book but they started sniffing for snacks. I tore open a box of Twinkies and we consumed those. I think I picked up all the wrappers but I didn't count them...
"Found one you missed on the arm of the couch."
"Tsk."
I had some chocolate while the pups finished off the Cracker Jack boxes. Their slobber smelled sweet but the bottom of the couch got a little sticky.
"Your butt's gonna get sticky too as soon as I heat it to a sweaty degree."
"Tsk. I saved the Cracker Jack prizes for you."
Cowboy here. Counting to 10-- 20--50--grinding my teeth.
New subject: Baseball and the World Series
Men (and some ladies) get very excited about the World Series. This does nothing for me, of course, but baseball is an American invention and so I feel it's my patriotic duty to explain a few things to those who live north or south of our borders and/or on another continent, island or archipelago.
First... I have no idea why it's called the "world" series when the baseball teams are all from the United States. If they're not all from the US, I'm sure someone will let me know.
The first game is tonight at Fenway Park which is in Boston. I know the Boston Red Sox are playing because why would any other team play in their backyard? The other team is the Yankees.
"Not the Yankees, bambina."
"The Brooklyn Dodgers?"
"The Dodgers aren't in Brooklyn any more and they're not playing either."
"Not in Brooklyn? Egads! Why not?"
"Because they moved to California."
"They moved to California? When did this happen?"
"Not long after you were born."
"Well I don't mind telling you. I think that was VERY unAmerican of them!"
"So who's the other team?"
"The Rockies."
"Never heard of them."
Anybody else think Cowboy was being just a teeny bit sarcastic there? The Rockies? Oh puleeeeeeze.
I will have to explain the intricacies of baseball another time. Right this minute, I'm trying to digest the news about the Brooklyn Dodgers. The California Dodgers? Good Lord! How revolting is that?
On the health front: I'm feeling okay. Have an occasional twinge of discomfort but cardiologist says I can exercise a little more. I've had quite a few tests done - none of them pleasant. Increased some meds and as long as things improve, I'm good as gold. If there's no significant improvement, we'll look into some other alternatives. No medics were annihilated during those tests; however... a whole new bunch have learned the meaning of fear...
There's a full moon in a couple of days. I'm dancing nude under it even if I have to get up in the middle of the night to do that! I have NEW leg warmers and a beautiful mask so my legs and face will be warm...
Cowboy here: And her tush too if she does.
"Just five minutes. I have to have at least five minutes."
"5 and a half and you won't be warm, bambina. You'll be hot."
Have I ever mentioned his lack of couth?
very lightSWAT
~Sar~ & Cowboy
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Neanderthal Checking In
Cowboy here. Those who know my wife are aware that Sar lives in the fast lane. Almost everything is done in double time. Periodically the imp runs out of steam, her batteries need recharging and she slows down long enough to read a book or write a bit. New meds are slowly taking effect. A few more appointments until we know what's what. In the interim, she's resting more than usual. This pleases me but it's also unlike her so it disturbs me a bit too.
Frequently I get email asking what it's like to live with a whirling imp. Where do I begin?
Through a lot of years of wedded bliss I have learned to just accept certain truths.
Regarding food: My wife--
/ eats chocolate first, other food second.
/ eats dessert first, dinner second.
/ does not share chocolate or dessert.
/ stashes food around the house so a snack is always available.
/ asked Santa to give her a chocolate factory for Christmas.
Regarding dancing: My wife--
/ dances almost every day
/ dances nude in the backyard when there is a full moon (regardless of the consequences)
/ often dances nude in front of me when I'm in the middle of a daily workout. This immediately stops the workout, etc.
/ asked Santa for new leg warmers to wear in the winter when she's dancing nude etc.
Regarding animals: My wife--
/ is a magnet for creatures wild and domestic
/ has given twinkies and cracker jack to every animal ever encountered and turned them into junk food junkies
/ can train any animal in her care. (This includes sailors and marines who rush to do her bidding in spite of my orders.)
/ asked Santa for a pair of giraffes for Christmas.
Generalizations: My wife--
/ will rarely admit when she doesn't feel well
/ will eat some green vegetables - contrary to popular opinion - as long as they are raw. Sar does not eat cooked vegetables.
/ climbs trees no matter how many times I tell her not to
/ races like the wind just to feel it in her face
/ plays in the rain and snow regardless of how hot her tush is gonna be when I catch up with her.
/ pushes me, torments me, teases me. I thank the good Lord she loves me in spite of the fact that I'm a Neanderthal.
The imp makes my life complete.
Cowboy
Frequently I get email asking what it's like to live with a whirling imp. Where do I begin?
Through a lot of years of wedded bliss I have learned to just accept certain truths.
Regarding food: My wife--
/ eats chocolate first, other food second.
/ eats dessert first, dinner second.
/ does not share chocolate or dessert.
/ stashes food around the house so a snack is always available.
/ asked Santa to give her a chocolate factory for Christmas.
Regarding dancing: My wife--
/ dances almost every day
/ dances nude in the backyard when there is a full moon (regardless of the consequences)
/ often dances nude in front of me when I'm in the middle of a daily workout. This immediately stops the workout, etc.
/ asked Santa for new leg warmers to wear in the winter when she's dancing nude etc.
Regarding animals: My wife--
/ is a magnet for creatures wild and domestic
/ has given twinkies and cracker jack to every animal ever encountered and turned them into junk food junkies
/ can train any animal in her care. (This includes sailors and marines who rush to do her bidding in spite of my orders.)
/ asked Santa for a pair of giraffes for Christmas.
Generalizations: My wife--
/ will rarely admit when she doesn't feel well
/ will eat some green vegetables - contrary to popular opinion - as long as they are raw. Sar does not eat cooked vegetables.
/ climbs trees no matter how many times I tell her not to
/ races like the wind just to feel it in her face
/ plays in the rain and snow regardless of how hot her tush is gonna be when I catch up with her.
/ pushes me, torments me, teases me. I thank the good Lord she loves me in spite of the fact that I'm a Neanderthal.
The imp makes my life complete.
Cowboy
Friday, October 05, 2007
Stuff
A neighbor called and when I answered the phone, she yelled at me for lying to her when I said I couldn't meet her for lunch because we were in the San Juans. Hello? Has anyone ever heard of call forwarding? We usually use our cell phones but our house has a landline - we get calls - they need to be answered. Ergo: call forwarding.
She said "Oh."
Tsk.
More stuff: Psychologist on local TV program said that first-borns grow up to be leaders, drivers, responsible. In love relationships, they tend to be controlling...
Who do we know sounds like that?
SWAT!
Tsk. I guess the truth hurts.
Burnt stuff: The smoke alarms in David's house work. Alli, whose culinary skills are limited to boiling water... and nuking frozen food in the microwave is determined to learn how to bake cookies. So far, the dogs and the tortoise have eaten several dozen burnt cookies. She is convinced that if she bakes the cookies at 450 F. they'll bake faster. Had to open all the downstairs windows and let the ocean breezes (currently 48 degrees F.) clear the smoke out.
Cowboy got a look on his face that did not bode well for her bottom... Since her husband is a close friend, he decided to let the man deal with her when he gets back from his business trip. Tsk.
Other stuff: Been extra tired for a couple of weeks, more so than usual and a few days ago, was getting up from a nap when I thought one of the dogs was lying on my chest. I have large dogs; they are not allowed on the bed... felt like a huge weight on my chest and when I sat up, got a really sharp pain going down my arm. I told myself I was too young to have a heart attack - got up - took a couple of aspirin - lay down again and all was okay in about a half hour.
I told Cowboy because if I didn't tell him and he found out later... the steam coming out of his ears would rival Mt. Vesuvius in the middle of an eruption...
6 p.m. News Anchor: "And that, folks, is the real cause of global warming."
Because the giant squid has had up close and personal experience making instant life/death decisions in combat... he remained calm, cool and collected... Cowboy can multi-task. He said something in Italian (which must have been naughty because he didn't translate) and simultaneously clutched me to his chest and called 911. Really cute firemen/paramedics came over - took my blood pressure reading, listened to my heart, etc and told me they were taking me to the ER. This did not make me happy but being the perfect hostess, I offered them hot coffee and some of my very special chocolate brownies...
A very nasty look from the giant squid which promised global warming of another kind and I went to the ER.
Cardiologist shows up, does his thing, pronounces me well enough to go home but I need to see a heart doc as soon as possible. Cowboy makes a phone call and we leave the ER and go straight to the base hospital where Dr. Strangelove is waiting.
I loved Peter Sellers...
EKG, echo-cardiogram, yada yada yada. Very healthy heart - all parts are in sync and doing what they're supposed to do, no blockage in any of the arteries but heart rate is way too fast and BP is way too low for a person who has an overactive thyroid. So the bottom line is that my thyroid meds need to be adjusted and I need to return in four weeks for a checkup and eat more and exercise a little less. I come prepared so naturally, I immediately popped a couple of Twinkies in my mouth.
However... I'm wearing TWO heart monitors for a couple of weeks. TWO! One records what's happening 24/7 and gets replaced every 48 hours; the other "scans" what's going on if I press a button on it and I only do that if there's pain/discomfort etc. I told Cowboy I finally had control of a remote of my own...
One of the tests was a stress test. They put a whole bunch of electrode disc things all over my chest and on my back. Watching Cowboy watch the *male* technician touch me... his BP went over the roof!
Anyway, these disc gizmos are connected to a bunch of spaghetti strands in different colors and are further connected to a cable that goes around the waist - which is a good thing because with all that weight my pants were bound to fall down. All that stuff is hooked to a computer that records the heart function, heart rate, BP and a bunch of other things - a lot of whistles and bells which makes the doc and the techie guy look like they know what they're doing. Then you get on a treadmill and slowly, the speed and incline is increased until your heart rate reaches a certain level.
Dr. Strangelove said I'd reach the desired level in about 3 - 5 minutes.
Uh huh.
Folks... I've been a long-distance jogger for years. I can pace myself so my heart isn't over taxed too quickly and so I can run many miles. I like to run.
Twenty minutes into the test - with several increases in speed and incline, I'm starting to get high on endorphins when Cowboy gives me "that look." Cowboy's been a long-distance runner since he learned to walk... he knows what I'm doing.
Double tsk.
So I sped up until my heart rate far exceeded what was necessary - they took more pictures and I want you to know I didn't make any rude remarks to Dr. Strangelove. Almost killed me. But... I did ask to see his medical school transcripts and the test results of his cardiac residency.
I think I heard a soft growling sound when I did that... from Cowboy. Honestly, somebody has to ask; nobody should take their word that they're board certified just 'cause they say they are. An eight-year old can print a diploma on a computer. Tsk.
Dr. Strangelove started to make a remark that had nothing to do with the tests but the giant squid put his hand up. "Stop while you're ahead, Doc," he said. "Trust me on this."
Double tsk. I'm sure I could have countered with something wonderfully philosophical and brilliant. And for insurance, I memorized the man's name, rank and duty station.
We head home tomorrow and I've been informed no jogging or running for the time being but I can walk rapidly for short distances. The giant squid a.k.a. Hovering Hercules... says I'm not walking alone... period. And smarty pants that he is, the dogs don't count as companions. Tsk and double tsk. I actually feel well and am not nearly as tired as I was - new dosage on meds currently working - but my BP is still a little low and heart rate is still a little high. Dr. Strangelove says it takes a week or so for the body to make the adjustment.
I keep waiting for Cowboy's arm to shoot out like Dr. Strangelove's arm did in the movie and for him to try to get control of it. Oh wait! His arm DOES shoot out... at the most unexpected times.
Tsk.
~Sar~
She said "Oh."
Tsk.
More stuff: Psychologist on local TV program said that first-borns grow up to be leaders, drivers, responsible. In love relationships, they tend to be controlling...
Who do we know sounds like that?
SWAT!
Tsk. I guess the truth hurts.
Burnt stuff: The smoke alarms in David's house work. Alli, whose culinary skills are limited to boiling water... and nuking frozen food in the microwave is determined to learn how to bake cookies. So far, the dogs and the tortoise have eaten several dozen burnt cookies. She is convinced that if she bakes the cookies at 450 F. they'll bake faster. Had to open all the downstairs windows and let the ocean breezes (currently 48 degrees F.) clear the smoke out.
Cowboy got a look on his face that did not bode well for her bottom... Since her husband is a close friend, he decided to let the man deal with her when he gets back from his business trip. Tsk.
Other stuff: Been extra tired for a couple of weeks, more so than usual and a few days ago, was getting up from a nap when I thought one of the dogs was lying on my chest. I have large dogs; they are not allowed on the bed... felt like a huge weight on my chest and when I sat up, got a really sharp pain going down my arm. I told myself I was too young to have a heart attack - got up - took a couple of aspirin - lay down again and all was okay in about a half hour.
I told Cowboy because if I didn't tell him and he found out later... the steam coming out of his ears would rival Mt. Vesuvius in the middle of an eruption...
6 p.m. News Anchor: "And that, folks, is the real cause of global warming."
Because the giant squid has had up close and personal experience making instant life/death decisions in combat... he remained calm, cool and collected... Cowboy can multi-task. He said something in Italian (which must have been naughty because he didn't translate) and simultaneously clutched me to his chest and called 911. Really cute firemen/paramedics came over - took my blood pressure reading, listened to my heart, etc and told me they were taking me to the ER. This did not make me happy but being the perfect hostess, I offered them hot coffee and some of my very special chocolate brownies...
A very nasty look from the giant squid which promised global warming of another kind and I went to the ER.
Cardiologist shows up, does his thing, pronounces me well enough to go home but I need to see a heart doc as soon as possible. Cowboy makes a phone call and we leave the ER and go straight to the base hospital where Dr. Strangelove is waiting.
I loved Peter Sellers...
EKG, echo-cardiogram, yada yada yada. Very healthy heart - all parts are in sync and doing what they're supposed to do, no blockage in any of the arteries but heart rate is way too fast and BP is way too low for a person who has an overactive thyroid. So the bottom line is that my thyroid meds need to be adjusted and I need to return in four weeks for a checkup and eat more and exercise a little less. I come prepared so naturally, I immediately popped a couple of Twinkies in my mouth.
However... I'm wearing TWO heart monitors for a couple of weeks. TWO! One records what's happening 24/7 and gets replaced every 48 hours; the other "scans" what's going on if I press a button on it and I only do that if there's pain/discomfort etc. I told Cowboy I finally had control of a remote of my own...
One of the tests was a stress test. They put a whole bunch of electrode disc things all over my chest and on my back. Watching Cowboy watch the *male* technician touch me... his BP went over the roof!
Anyway, these disc gizmos are connected to a bunch of spaghetti strands in different colors and are further connected to a cable that goes around the waist - which is a good thing because with all that weight my pants were bound to fall down. All that stuff is hooked to a computer that records the heart function, heart rate, BP and a bunch of other things - a lot of whistles and bells which makes the doc and the techie guy look like they know what they're doing. Then you get on a treadmill and slowly, the speed and incline is increased until your heart rate reaches a certain level.
Dr. Strangelove said I'd reach the desired level in about 3 - 5 minutes.
Uh huh.
Folks... I've been a long-distance jogger for years. I can pace myself so my heart isn't over taxed too quickly and so I can run many miles. I like to run.
Twenty minutes into the test - with several increases in speed and incline, I'm starting to get high on endorphins when Cowboy gives me "that look." Cowboy's been a long-distance runner since he learned to walk... he knows what I'm doing.
Double tsk.
So I sped up until my heart rate far exceeded what was necessary - they took more pictures and I want you to know I didn't make any rude remarks to Dr. Strangelove. Almost killed me. But... I did ask to see his medical school transcripts and the test results of his cardiac residency.
I think I heard a soft growling sound when I did that... from Cowboy. Honestly, somebody has to ask; nobody should take their word that they're board certified just 'cause they say they are. An eight-year old can print a diploma on a computer. Tsk.
Dr. Strangelove started to make a remark that had nothing to do with the tests but the giant squid put his hand up. "Stop while you're ahead, Doc," he said. "Trust me on this."
Double tsk. I'm sure I could have countered with something wonderfully philosophical and brilliant. And for insurance, I memorized the man's name, rank and duty station.
We head home tomorrow and I've been informed no jogging or running for the time being but I can walk rapidly for short distances. The giant squid a.k.a. Hovering Hercules... says I'm not walking alone... period. And smarty pants that he is, the dogs don't count as companions. Tsk and double tsk. I actually feel well and am not nearly as tired as I was - new dosage on meds currently working - but my BP is still a little low and heart rate is still a little high. Dr. Strangelove says it takes a week or so for the body to make the adjustment.
I keep waiting for Cowboy's arm to shoot out like Dr. Strangelove's arm did in the movie and for him to try to get control of it. Oh wait! His arm DOES shoot out... at the most unexpected times.
Tsk.
~Sar~
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