So this is me... doing pretty much everything with me feet! LOL
Okay... I kid.
I'm not even close to this because I can still use my left hand.
But I have been practicing picking things up with my feet for as long as I can remember. It comes in really handy!!! :)
Have a good Halloween everyone!
This is slow and go, but it's getting better everyday!
Friday, October 30, 2009
So this is me... doing pretty much everything with me feet! LOL
Monday, October 26, 2009
Saturday i went on a bike ride with my hubs. We both had road bikes. We were going fast. i got close to the trail edge>>>inexperienced as I am...I freaked, I tried to correct myself and stop, I flipped instead> Landed on my shoulder and head and hip, my collar bone broke right in half.
I'm bed ridden.
This is not my x-rays, but this is pretty close to what it looks like, almost identical:
Friday, October 23, 2009
I got this in an email... it fits PERFECTLY with my other bathroom stories on this blog, and it has been awhile since I have shared one of my own... believe me, this has SOOOOOO been me!
When you have to visit a public bathroom, you usually find a line of women, so you smile politely and take your place.
Once it's your turn, you check for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is occupied.
Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall.
You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants!
The dispenser for the modern "seat covers" (invented by someone's Mom, no doubt) is handy, but empty .
You would hang your purse on the door hook, if there was one , but there isn't - so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, ( Mom would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR! ), yank down your pants, and assume " The Stance."
In this position your aging, toneless (God I should have gone to the gym!!!) thigh muscles begin to shake.
You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold "The Stance".
To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser. In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, "Honey, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!" Your thighs shake more.
You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the one that's still in your purse . (Oh yeah, the purse around your neck, that now, you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That will have to do. You crumple it in thepuffiest way possible. It's still smaller than your thumbnail.
Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn't work.
The door hits your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest , and you and your purse topple backward against the tank of the toilet.
"Occupied!" you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious, tiny , crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT .
It is wet of course.
You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late . Yourbare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper - not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try.
You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're certain her bare bottom nevertouched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear
"You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could get".
By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl that sprays a fine mist of water that covers your butt and runs down your legs and into your shoes.
The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too
At this point, you give up. You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat.
You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.
You can't figure out how to operate the faucets with the automatic sensors, .....so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women still waiting.
You are no longer able to smile politely to them.
A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it??) You yank the paper from yo ur shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and tell her warmly,"Here, you just might need this".
As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used, and left the men's restroom.
Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so long, and why is your purse hanging around your neck?" .................
This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with a public restrooms (rest??? you've GOT to be kidding!!). It finally explains to the men what really does take us so long. It also answers their other commonly asked questions about why women go to the restroom in pairs. It's so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse,and hand you Kleenex under the door!
Send this to all women that understand what bonding in the bathroom is all about!
A Friend Is Like A Good Bra...
Hard to Find...
Always Lifts You Up...
Never Lets You Down, or Leaves You Hanging,
And Is Always Close To Your Heart!!!
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Okay so somehow I was able to be a part of this fantastic thing called THE PHOTOGRAPHY TRAIN.
What I do is travel around the United States and do Head Shots.
I base out of New York City for head shots... but this a traveling company and it's all sorts of awesome!
So... i just wanted to let my East Coast friends know that I'm most likely going to be in Boston, MA November 5-7, depending on who books, and I want to MEET YOU!!!
Don't be scared...I'll control myself I promise!
And if you know anyone that needs head shots send them my way!
Here's some stuff that I have done:
OH and you should go give your opinion in Group Therapy over at Real World. A boyfriends best friend, but not his girlfriend?
Friday, October 16, 2009
Okay so after the whole Balloon boy incident I thought I would sit my kids down and let them know... "Hey, if I'm calling your name and you are hiding from me and I say the code word, 'BALLOON BOY' that means if you don't get your butt out in the next couple of seconds I'l beat your BUTT as soon as I DO see you. But if you come out when I say the code word then we will go out for ice cream.
It's the perfect deal and the perfect solution.
Now, on FaceBook I see THIS report and I'm still sick about it. So I shoved my kids in the car and bought them ice cream because it made me feel better. Luckily the kid was okay.
You guys rock my socks. You should check out the apology perspectives over at Real World ... some great reads and comments!
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
I should have taken up acting.
Lately I have noticed that I must be an extremely good actress.
This is why.
I'm kinda everywhere lately because I always am doing way to much. But only because the stuff I LOVE to do and makes me happy, keeps me busy. So I'm okay with being busy, the only problem is, my brain seems to attach itself to Shelle-is-to-busy-little-sleep-attention-deficit-disorder or SITBLSADD.
My mind tends to easily wander off. Unless I'm focusing on a project or my hands are doing something, I tend to lose focus. And what I mean is, if I'm just conversing with someone I'm either going to A) cut you off and start a random thought, or B) say "uh huh" in the right place, but really I'm not listening to you.
So how does this correlate with me being a great actress you ask?
Because the last few times I have had a moment to sit and talk with an adult, I haven't paid attention to the conversation for longer than 8.2 seconds, YET it's like the other person has NO clue. They just keep talking away.
It's a beautiful thing really.
In fact, I thought about this while in the midst of my last adult conversation.
I sat there, put my replies to "uh huh" on auto robot, and thought while they were talking about who KNOWS what, "I'm the best actress ever! They have no idea that I'm not paying attention to them. In fact, I'm surprised they can't tell? Usually my face is like a book... I should look like a blank wall right now? Interesting... oh she smiled, I should smile back" so I smile, then I continue, "I should blog about this and tell everyone how cool I am? Maybe it will come off the wrong way, like I'm being mean... but I'm NOT being mean, I can't really help it right now. Maybe it's the cold medicine... yea that's it, that's what I will blame it on... oh she laughed, I should laugh also" so I laugh.
And on and on it went for about 45 minutes!
I should be appalled at myself. And you guys will probably thing I'm a prick just writing this post. Normally I would agree that this is horrible and normally I'm actually a great listener.
But I'm actually quite impressed.
I'm blaming it on the cold medicine though ;)
If you have a funny Halloween date story or couple story that you would like to share with the blog world email me at blokthoughts @ gmail dot com and let me know. Over at Real World Venus vs. Mars the week of Halloween is all about the stories! :)
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Can I just tell you how IN LOVE with the Fall I am?
I use to be a Spring/Summer person. I couldn't wait for those seasons to come. I would hum with excitement as soon as I felt that first ray of sun's real warmth and smell the blossoms beginning to bud. I would whip out my shorts and t-shirts and day dream out the window of whatever shelter was confining me, usually school, sometimes work. I would spend hours out in that sun. We were best friends really. I would lay and bask in the Vitamin D and E rays, soak them up, start the beginnings of my soon to be lifeguard summer tan.
Not so much anymore.
I am now a Fall/Winter person. As soon as I began to see the effects of those bask giving rays of sunlight, like when I turned 30 *shudder* and realized that the sun was NOT my friend, but a bitter jealous enemy of my skin, I began to change my mind.
My pasty white skin is not flattering in shorts, I will admit that. I am one of THOSE women. Ya know the ones, the ones that you look at and say to yourself, "Aaahhh she's a mom" or "Poor thing must be allergic to the sun" or "I'm sure glad I don't have that Irish skin tone". I still wear shorts, capri's and short sleeves, and when I really want to throw caution to the wind I will actually slip on a swimming suit… but I douse myself in sunscreen so the sun doesn't have a chance to play "war" with my skin and plus I just don't love to see myself in those types of clothes any longer post child bearing! My fault completely, but now I pay the price :)
And the sun thinks it's funny to dot my skin with brown little spots all over my skin.
Yea, so I spit in the sun's general direction.
I bask in the brisk cool air now. I wrap my body up in great fitting, comfortable jeans, and a long sleeve shirt, it hides all those places on your body you can't hide in the summer, well you can, but it's uncomfortable. I get giddy to go out and shop for my new jacket(s) for the season and boots/shoes to match! Beanies and scarves Oh MY! I'm starting to get enchanted with it all now. The smell of apple cinnamon spice and the mixture of my favorite colors.
Now let's all have a moment of silence because I was able to pull out my favorite pair of jeans and I have worn them like 3 days in a row! If you know where I live you will be happy for me, since it takes longer to cool down around here!
My goal this weekend is to make it to all of your sites!
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Oh MY GOSH you guys! I've watched this like 6 times. I laughed so hard! It's such a great pick me up!
And if you have seen, LORD OF THE DANCE with Michael Flatley... you will love this!
The boy sliding in is CLASSIC!!!
Oh and a fun male perspective on intimacy is up at Real World Venus vs. Mars today!
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Our pediatrician admitted it early on.
The rash on our 2-year-old daughter's cheeks, joints and legs was something he'd never seen before.
The next doctor wouldn't admit to not knowing.
He rattled off the names of several skins conditions -- none of them seemingly worth his time or bedside manner -- then quickly prescribed antibiotics and showed us the door.
The third doctor admitted she didn't know much.
The biopsy of the chunk of skin she had removed from our daughter's knee showed signs of an "allergic reaction" even though we had ruled out every allergy source -- obvious and otherwise -- that we could.
The fourth doctor had barely closed the door behind her when, looking at the limp blonde cherub in my lap, she admitted she had seen this before. At least one too many times before.
She brought in a gaggle of med students. She pointed out each of the physical symptoms in our daughter:
The rash across her face and temples resembling the silhouette of a butterfly.
The purple-brown spots and smears, called heliotrope, on her eyelids.
The reddish alligator-like skin, known as Gottron papules, covering the knuckles of her hands.
The onset of crippling muscle weakness in her legs and upper body.
She then had an assistant bring in a handful of pages photocopied from an old medical textbook. She handed them to my wife, whose birthday it happened to be that day.
This was her gift -- a diagnosis for her little girl.
That was seven years ago -- Oct. 2, 2002 -- the day our daughter was found to have juvenile dermatomyositis, one of a family of rare autoimmune diseases that can have debilitating and even fatal consequences when not treated quickly and effectively.
Our daughter's first year with the disease consisted of surgical procedures, intravenous infusions, staph infections, pulmonary treatments and worry. Her muscles were too weak for her to walk or swallow solid food for several months. When not in the hospital, she sat on our living room couch, propped up by pillows so she wouldn't tip over, as medicine or nourishment dripped from a bag into her body.
Our daughter, Thing 1, Megan, now age 9, remembers little of that today when she dances or sings or plays soccer. All that remain with her are scars, six to be exact, and the array of pills she takes twice a day to help keep the disease at bay.
What would have happened if it took us more than two months and four doctors before we lucked into someone who could piece all the symptoms together? I don't know.
I do know that the fourth doctor, the one who brought in others to see our daughter's condition so they could easily recognize it if they ever had the misfortune to be presented with it again, was a step toward making sure other parents also never have to find out.
That, too, is my purpose today.
It is also my birthday gift to my wife, My Love, Rhonda, for all you have done these past seven years to make others aware of juvenile myositis diseases and help find a cure for them once and for all.
To read more about children and families affected by juvenile myositis diseases, visit Cure JM Foundation at www.curejm.org.
To make a tax-deductible donation toward JM research, go to www.firstgiving.com/rhondaandkevinmckeever or www.curejm.com/team/donations.htm.
I was so excited to be asked to be a part of this for Kevin. I happen to know, through experience, that you my friends are some of the most generous and kind people out there! Thanks for taking the time to read this!
I hope this will help!
Here you Go SciFi Dad
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