THIS is what life was really like in the Kennedy household and in his and Carolyn’s marriage?
And for the love of god, WHY do I always put those damn books on my wish list? WHYYYYY? I’m not even that Kennedy-obsessed, but I read the description and next thing I know, I’ve added to my too-damn-long wish list.
It’s an illness, is what it is.
* * *
The Nebshit Game!
1. What is your favorite food served at Thanksgiving dinner? It’s a tie between the sweet potato casserole (which we’re bringing this year) and the cranberry sauce. What can I say? I like the sweet stuff!
2. Do you call it stuffing or dressing? I think there’s actually a difference between stuffing and dressing – the dressing I’ve had in the south is vastly different than the stuffing I had in Maine. I much prefer stuffing to dressing, but shhh. Don’t tell Fred!
3. What time do you normally eat the big meal? I think around noon or a little later. I’d prefer to do it around two or three in the afternoon, but no one asks me.
4. Do you have it at your house or go somewhere else? This year we’re going to Fred’s sister’s house – we’ve done that for the past several years. Next year, we’re doing it at our house, since we’ll be in the Smallville house.
5. Do you dress up or decorate the table in a special way? I wore the same blue turtleneck sweater several years in a row. It’s too big for me now, so I’ll be wearing the off-white fleece sweater I bought at Cracker Barrel. I’ll try to get a picture of it for y’all.
* * *
I was up way too freakin’ early yesterday morning, because I had to drive to the other side of Huntsville to the Medical Mall (it’s an old mall they turned into a medical center. It’s kind of neat, actually.) for my thyroid uptake scan.
You may recall that I had an ultrasound of my thyroid over the summer, and eventually plodded along to the conclusion that they wanted to have a thyroid uptake scan done because… who the fuck knows? I didn’t ask.
That’s going to be on my tombstone, I’m sure.
She didn’t ask.
I suspect the results will be “Uh.. yep. She has a multi-nodular goiter and should be on thyroid hormones.” which I’ve known pretty much since I was about thirteen.
Anyway, I got to the Medical Mall about fifteen minutes before they’d told me to be there. I checked in at the information desk, sat in the Imaging Center waiting room for half an hour or so (not that I’m complaining – I got quite a bit of reading done), and then the tech (I assume she was some kind of tech. Who the fuck knows? I just do what I’m told.
She didn’t ask, and she just did as she was told.)) came out, handed me a glass tube and a cup of water. In the glass tube was a pill.
I took the pill with a mouthful of water, and then found to my displeasure that I was supposed to leave and come back at 2:30. The scan would take about half an hour, and THEN I was going to have to come back this morning for something that would take about five minutes.
Oh, by the way – while I was sitting in the waiting room and man and his wife were on the other side of the room, facing me, and I glanced up in time to see him take a swig of barium and I was instantly transported back to when I had my MRI and I had to drink TWO big-ass containers of barium, and I was reminded of how barium tastes exactly like (I imagine) liquid plastic crossed with boiled asshole with a soupcon of dirty feet sprinkled in, and I GAGGED, and then coughed loudly to cover the gag (I don’t think anyone in the waiting room was fooled), and had to move to the other end of the waiting room so he and his barium weren’t in my line of sight.
Barium scars a motherfucker for life.
Ugh. Three trips to the other side of Huntsville in the space of 24 hours. JOY.
I left, stopping at the pet store on the way home so I could buy more useless crap that we don’t need, along with a heated cat bed to put in the cat house Fred is making for Maxi and Newt, who we’re referring to as our “country cats” these days.
(Side note: Those of you who read Fred’s entry for
yesterday will note that he made a joke about the saltiness of our country cats. This harkens back to when
Nance and Rick were here and we took them to our favorite little country restaurant. On the menu was listed “city ham”, and since we didn’t know the difference between city ham and country ham, we asked the waitress. She eyed us for a moment and then said “Country ham is saltier.” She paused for a moment, considering, and opened her mouth. We all leaned forward, waiting for the nugget of wisdom she was about to impart, and she repeated “Country ham is saltier.” and looked at us, satisfied that she’d answered THAT question to the full extent of her ability. On Saturday when Fred referred to Maxi and Newt as our “country cats”, I said “I wonder if they’re saltier than our city cats?” Fred is a THIEF who never EVER credits me for anything, the bastard.)
At home I ate breakfast, cleared some crap off my desk, and then watched TV while leafing through various and sundry magazines. I left the house a little before 2:00, and was back at the Medical Mall with plenty of time to spare.
The tech took me back almost exactly at 2:00, had me lay on the table while she did what I assume was the thyroid uptake scan (again, didn’t ask. I assumed she knew what she was doing.) It was very similar to the MRI I had done… whenever the hell I had that done. I don’t even remember what the hell I had the MRI done FOR, for crying out loud. Anyway, it did take about half an hour, and she let me go with a reminder to come back in the morning at 8:45.
I’m sure they’ll be wanting to take my thyroid out next. Are there any organs they’re planning to leave intact, ya think? I have a uterus I’m willing to sell to the highest bidder!
* * *
Oh, and not only do I get to go back to the other side of Huntsville this morning, but later this morning I get to take the spud to the surgery center for a
Pilonidal Cystectomy. The day before Thanksgiving.
Lucky kid.
* * *
The foster kittens love love LOVE hanging out in the spud’s room. I don’t know if it’s ’cause there’s more fun junk to play with or because it’s warmer in there than in the rest of the house or what, but nine times out of ten if I go looking for them I’ll find at least two if not all four of them lolling about on the floor.
The thing that’s wrecking my nerves about these kittens is that the girls are all very hissy. They’ll walk around and hiss and growl and hiss and growl, and between them, Sugarbutt, and Mister Boogers, someone’s always hissing and/ or growling and it’s very distracting and makes me want to scream.
Good for them they’re so cute, I s’pose.
On ur desk slurping ur water (and about to take flight).
Sunshine gives Meredith Grey the Crazy Eyes.
O’Malley is snuggled up to The Daddy and feeling quite smug about it.
“That is MY DADDY! Get away from him!” (Sugarbutt, not a kitten fan.)
More kitty pics
here.
* * *
Previously
2005: But I could manage a paper cut/ in the name of love
2004: “Oh, my heart,” I moaned.
2003: This perpetually surprised look of Michael Jackson’s makes me laugh until I wheeze.
2002: “YES, JESUS CHRIST! I DIDN’T KNOW IT WAS GOING TO BE SUCH A FRIGGIN’ BIG DEAL!” I bellowed. “I NEEDED TO BE AT MY COMPUTER, BECAUSE THAT’S WHERE THE PHONE NUMBER WAS! JESUS!”
2001: No entry.
2000: I’ve visited Wal-Mart three times in the last five days. I think they’re about to name a parking space after me.
1999: F: In Michigan, you can take this bottle to the recycling center and get ten cents for it.]]>