Alright Already.

Hi there.  Remember me?  I am the blogger who abandoned ship.  Ha!  Not really.  There was a method to my madness.  I had decided to extricate myself from all social networking sites, and anything that was consuming my precious time with my family.

So just was I up too?  I was going to write about everything, but that's boring.  Instead I decided to show you.  No it's not video.  Just images and pictures.

I could go on and on, but that is also boring.  Alrighty then.  I guess I am done for now. 

Catch you later.

Lyn

Simple Acts.

It is the the little things in life that make me smile. I sometimes can get caught in a fit of giggles for seeing even a muscle twitch. What I think is funny may make the normal person scratch their head, but for me, the ache in my side is only a reminder of how different I see the world.

One of the simple things I've been doing lately is engaging people in conversation. I say "Hello." or "Pleasant day isn't it?", and then I wait for a response. I received a lot of smiles with returned pleasantries. (Most people looked confused at first while a waited for them to answer me.)

Most people don't expect you to actually listen. I found that to be funny. Why on earth would we ask questions and then walk away?

"Hey there. How are you?"

"I'm good, but my Gran is dyin'."

"Yeah. Well you look great. Mikey get your little behind back here!"

"Um. Thanks. I..."

"Tell your Gran I said hello! Bye."

See. That is not supposed to be funny right? I think it is hysterical.

Everyone is a critic. It is so much easier to find fault in someone else, than it is to reflect. I've heard the whole "I am my own worst critic" crap, and I don't believe a word.

In today's society we are leaning more toward on-line social networking, but it appears to me that in what should be liberating and freeing experience, instead we are still bound by the very same labels and constrictions we have in real life.

I am sure I do not have to go into the social network standing details to get you to understand that Tweeting is the ADD(Attention Deficit Disorder) version of FB (FaceBook). I belong to both (sigh). I blame my friend Matt for getting me to Tweet again after I swore it off, and FB comes in handy for family and friends, but that's where it ends.

I have read a lot of blogs, and blogger thoughts on social sites regarding what the likes and dislikes were of blogs in general, and the results astounded me. It amazes me that anyone still has an active site.

I took three steps back. I had to go away. I can't think of why bloggers/people/humans would not like other fellow bloggers/people/humans form of creativity.

If we have a problem with it let's fix it.

I am the worst at grammatically anything, and I hate comma's.

Maybe someone could help the linkphobic, or help with some of the applications.

OK. Maybe people have a hard time trusting others on the Web, but that does not mean you can't assist in your neighborhood.

I'm just asking you to reach out and help.

Simple acts will lead to better people.

Take Care,

Lyn

Hot date with Mr. Who?

You know what?  I hate injuries that don't have some interesting story behind them.

Kind of like a month, or so ago when I flipped over a child's chair in a doctor's office.

Boring.  Sure it hurt like hell, but it would have been way funnier if it were in a different scenario.

Same injury, but now I'm on a HOT date with Mr. Who-cares-if-he-is-right.  I am in a swanky restaurant that I have been dying to go to for months on end.

Upon us being seated, Mr. Who-cares orders a bottle of wine I've never heard of (Like I'd know a good one from a bad one anyway). I have a case of the nerves, so I've swallowed the first glass down before my Mr.Who has smelled the bouquet of something or other. I'm just nodding in agreement.

Oh great!  I have to pee.  I can't go. We just got here. So I politely carry on with the dinner.

Has anyone ever understood the Wait Staff when they come over and hurriedly spew out the menu?  Why do they look confused when you ask them what was the first one again?

I have now had one glass of water (hoping to offset the wine), two and a half glasses of wine, a tasters snip of something apple like (yum), and one snippet of bubbly sweet wine (Sparkling wine).  Somewhere between the tastings I lost my Pee signal.

Uh oh.  I now have got to go so bad it's ugly. I excuse myself with Mr. Who, and do my best not to race to the bathrooms.  I get to the overly flowered facility and throw open a door to my Pee Heaven.

I am done right . Nope.

You see, they have these people in those bathrooms.  I know that they are there to help you out.  Most people just tip them and never make eye-contact.  They can tell when a fellow female in their Sisterhood is down and needs assistance.

In this version I am falling to my knees as I slide into the Ladies Room.  I am disregarding the Pain I have acquired from my scrambling.  I made it to the toilet.

I did not piss my pants.

Oh crap.  I somehow have to make it back to Mr. Who.

Screw it.  He is probably flirting with the wait staff still.

OK.   Stay away from Pain, but if you see her just kindly let her know she will never take me down.

Lyn

The Foot Monster.

I had another restless night of sleep.  I just love staring at the ceiling pretending to count sheep.

That never works for me anyhow.

Somehow it ends up that the sheep are part of the dinner menu on an Anthony Bourdaine No Reservations episode.

So while I was lying there wondering when sleep would return to me, I realized that my feet had managed to become uncovered.  I freaked out and began shifting the blankets back to their intended positions on the bed.

Whew!  That was close.  Could you image what horrors would have had their way with my unsuspecting toes?  I shudder at the very thought. It's all good now though, my feet are safe.

Yeah I know.  Kind of silly huh?  Lyn is afraid of the foot monster.  I mean, come on.  If a Bogey man, or an intruder were to come into the house, the last thing on their fake/or real mind is not going to be "Let's get Lyn's feet."

I don't even remember when it started, this irrational fear of exposed digits.  I'm sure there is some sort of phobia out there dedicated to such a thing.

I think it stems from my fear of the monster under the bed.  I was always terrified of getting out of bed at night, because he'd get my foot for sure and then suck me under the bed never to be heard from again.

To make matters worse, if my cat Zona is sleeping with me and the feet come out, she immediately attacks the big toe on either foot. Yup.  She latches on and "love" bites me.  Could you imagine what this does to an unsuspecting sleeper?  I've been ripped out of many a good dreams by Ms. Zona.

So you see?  I can't win either way.  Either the imaginary monsters are going to get me, or Zona will do it for them.

My only option, besides therapy and locking the cat out of the room, is to sleep with boots on.

Yeah.  That ought to be real comfortable.

Lyn

True Princess.

My Beautiful son woke me up this morning with a question that blindsided me.

"Are you a true Princess Mom?

"Huh?  Am I a what?"

"You know.  A true Princess."

"Mommy is not a Princess honey.  Not even close."  I grumbled.

"Why?" He asked innocently enough.

"Because I can't sleep on peas." I thought this was a clever response and would stump him enough to walk away.

"You're silly Mommy!  We don't sleep on peas!"

"Yeah.  I know. That's why I can't be a princess."

"Oh.  What if we eat the peas?"

"It doesn't count Zach.  Everybody eats peas."

"Noooo.  Auntie Molly doesn't eat her peas."

"Does't count. Molly is a Queen.  OK. Enough of this princess stuff please."

"OK. Um Mom?"

"Sigh....What?"

"I wish you had a million dollars.  Then you could be a true Princess."

"A million dollars would be handy."

"Well how much money do you have?"

"Not enough honey.  I'm a million dollars short of a million." Hee hee.  That ought to get him.

"Oh. So you're just a poor old Mom then.  Well I'm going to be a true Princess!  And the I'm going to turn into Iron Man and save the world."

"You go do that honey.  This old lady is still tired."

 I didn't want to tell him that I am Queen of this castle, and that makes him my little Prince Charming.  I'm liking the Iron Man idea much better.  Go save the world Zach!  We need more heroes in this world.

Lyn

I have...

I have got me a case of the winter blues.  I've little to no attention span.  I have started several projects, but have no drive to complete any of them.

I have had lots of weird things happen to me, or around me.  I actually was considering if I had lost my mind, or quite possibly losing it in bits and pieces.

I get inspired to write something profound and as quickly as it comes to me it's gone, and replaced with some nonsensical idea that would land me a free meal ticket to a mental institution for a very long time.

My excitement for today is that I have done my taxes.

I seriously need a jump start.

Blah.

Lyn
  

Pain: 6 Degrees of Exasperation.

There are so many different levels and types of pain that I wouldn't know where to begin.  I have been under the care of a pain management team for over five years now due to a car accident.  For that reason alone I deem myself knowledgeable in the pain department. If you disagree, that's cool. Onward we go.

When you are assessed as a patient under pain management care, they have you rate the pain on a scale of 1-10, one being low pain, and ten being extreme.  I actually thought they were joking with me when I first met with them.  Here I am in pain, but you want me to put a number on it?  OK.  So if I understate it I won't recover, but if I overstate it I may do more damage to myself by having them mis-treat me.  

I don't want to put a number on my pain, especially because it changes with circumstance.  Of course I am not going to be in as much pain if I am home reading a book vs. being at work and on my feet for eight hours.   If there is a storm coming, don't bother checking the weather channel, just ask me. I have actually proven Dr. Mel wrong more than a few times.  Sorry Dr. Mel.  Don't worry. You still rock!

That being said, here is my story.

Doctor appointments: A. Must be kept always., B. Arrive on time, or at least 15 minutes early., C. Have waiting rooms filled with annoying people., D. All of the above plus so much more.

The Children's Medical Center is by far the best place to have your child cared for.  Zachary went through his surgery with the great Dr. M. for his tonsils and adenoids. Sure he had loads of complications, but it was not for lack of care.  Zachary bounced back from that after close to 5 days of hell on my part. 

So here I am again.  It's a different location, but one thing remains the same, the waiting room was made for kids. I am a big kid myself, so I don't mind one bit. 

This room was huge, and in three sections. Depending on the purpose for your visit pretty much summed up where you sat.  We were there for a "middle" reason which was great because they had toys.  

Z-man headed straight for the Lego's. 

Mom and I chose chairs closest to the window where I had to do the paperwork.  In front of us stood a child's table and "mini-me" chairs.  You know what I am talking about.  Adult furniture shrunk to fit the wee ones.  To my left I have a set of parents and their adorable baby girl.  To my right I have a lovely young woman and a son a bit older than Z.  I have to give alias' to avoid confusion, and because I feel that the idiots, aka parents, do not deserve my acknowledgement at all, I will stick with "idiots" for them.  The lovely young lady who was so pleasant to my son I will call "Eva".  That's Z's Eva from Wally.

Clipboard in hand and several signatures later I am in a chair doing the routine history required by us every time we go somewhere new.  Zach is playing at the table right in front of me.  Grandma is in the chair to my immediate left, and the idiots are 3 feet diagonal from her. 

"Idiots" put "sweet baby" on the floor.  Aw how cute is that?  Um.  Idiots, my kid has on hard Starter sneakers, and has no clue that your precious is right near his foot. I get a bit tense and ask Z to move to the opposite side of the table.  This is where he meets "Eva". 

"Eva" was very sweet, and I am guessing Indonesian.  It's a compliment.  She was beyond gorgeous. Her actions is what made me think how shallow we are.  How when faced with an uncomfortable situation you either become an "idiot" or perhaps a hero.

They called Zachary.  That's how my pain was about to become this THING that I didn't know existed.  My son's name and a sucker punch of burn and searing pain.

Why? Oh.  That's real simple. Because the "idiots" that heard and saw me move Zachary to the other side of the table for the safety of "sweet baby" and her precious little fingers, they were enjoying her crawling on the floor. Can anyone say eww?

I get up and call Z's name.  He is to my right with Eva.  I go to step forward, and what do you think I see?  Yup. It's "sweet baby" and this all happens so fast I can't really explain it as well as I want to.

I see her and shift my step. In front of me is the chair that Z just left and I tried to maneuver myself but fail miserably.  I connect with the now vacant mini-me chair that Z was using not so long ago, and it hits me.  

I am going down. HARD.

What I see is "sweet baby" so my leg jerks away to avoid hurting her.  The other leg tries to go over the silly little chair, but instead connects and proceeds to take this overly conscious friendly mom and turns me into a screaming pile of creative cursing bitch.  I wasn't bitchy to everyone.  I pretty much hated anyone who touched my legs. You slip and face plant in front of a bunch of people and see if you want to be friendly.

I calmed down after I was told to breathe for the 100th time.  Pain. Oh the pain. All I could say was it burns.  

I can't get a date but I sure had enough Emergency response people present.  Thank you to all who helped me.

It has been 5 days since the Ouch incident.  I really want to thank the "idiots" who never asked if I was OK after the3 whole ordeal was done.  Way to show your daughter that a non-responsive action is best in an emergency you dumb ass. 

I would like to thank Eva and her son (I didn't catch his name), for sticking around even though you were done just to make sure I was OK.

And a huge Thanks to the Nurse who in her time off called me that night to see if I was doing OK as well.  Seriously people .  Think about it.  A nurse on her own time calling someone she doesn't know.  I was in awe.  We cracked a couple of injury jokes and said goodnight.

I HATE PAIN.

But I love people.

Hugs and kisses.

Lyn

Disclaimer: Idiots can be anyone.  If you think that I wrote this about you then you pretty much labeled yourself.