Monthly Archives: June 2011

Stupid Death

I feel like I have had a lot of close friends lose a pet recently and it is so hard to see  the pain and sadness they are going through.  It’s hard enough to see an animal in pain or suffering and even harder to have to “play god” for them and to know when it’s time to say goodbye.

This last one has really hit me hard. Mostly because my friend is hurting so much and is so sad and there’s nothing I can do to help her.

Those of you who have experienced pet loss know how awful it feels to lose part of your family. The last pet I lost that was close to me was a long time ago and it still makes me sad to think about it.   I even cried for days when I had to put my husbands cat down that I hated with a passion. Maybe it was so hard because he really loved that cat and it was hard to see him so sad.  Or maybe I was sad that he was in a place where he could be a total dickhead and no one would care.   I don’t judge Nick  for loving a cat that peed on everything and probably spread kitty AIDS to the whole slew of neighborhood cats (which there are many). You can’t choose who you love right? Damn cat.

So I have been searching the fabulous Internet to try to find something that I can get to help ease my friends pain.  Most of the websites were pretty much the same but I did find one place that was quite interesting (Don’t worry, I haven’t done anything crazy).

http://www.perpetualpet.net/Gallery/

Am I crazy to think that this happens?  Where do you put it?  Does it get dusty?  What do you do if you don’t want it anymore?  I’m all for remembering your pet but there are ways that are slightly, shall I say, LESS CREEPY than this. 

I know this subject is a little on the depressing side but I had to write something because that’s what I do now so bear with me. Oh, and if you hate animals then you should probably just stop reading my blog and also just go away in general because you are a  cold-hearted human.

With that said I would like to share a poem I found online.  I took out a small part about god because I didn’t think it applied to the specific people I am talking about and their beliefs. Can I do that?  Oh well.  I will post the website I found it on if the unknown author or anyone else has a problem with it.

This is for my friends (you know who you are) and anyone who has been through so much with their losses. I hope each day gets a little better for you and know that I am thinking about you. 

I’m Still Here

Friend, please don’t mourn for me

I’m still here, though you don’t see.

I’m right by your side each night and day

and within your heart I long to stay.

My body is gone but I’m always near. 

I’m everything you feel, see or hear. 

My spirit is free, but I’ll never depart

as long as you keep me alive in your heart.

I’ll never wander out of your sight-

I’m the brightest star on a summer’s night. 

I’ll never be beyond your reach-

I’m the warm moist sand when you’re at the beach.

I’m the colorful leaves when fall comes around

and the pure white snow that blankets the ground. 

I’m the beautiful flowers of which you are so fond.

The clear cool water in a quiet pond.

I’m the first bright blossom you’ll see in the spring,

the first warm raindrop that April will bring. 

I’m the first ray of light when the sun starts to shine,

and you’ll see that the face in the moon shine is mine.

I’m the hot salty tears that flow when you weep,

and the beautiful dreams that come while you sleep. 

I’m the smile you see on a baby’s face. 

Just look for me friend, I’m every place!

 

 

The Force Field

Ever since I was very little I apparently have be able to have long in-depth conversations with complete strangers. My mom has told me that when I was three I would sit on a bench next to someone and start up a conversation.  I think this is where it all began. 

Yesterday I got a call from the wrong number and it was a lady looking for her friend George whose wife is dying from cancer. I was out to dinner and normally wouldn’t answer a call from an unknown number but Owen was having his first sleepover at Nana and Poppy’s and I was convinced it was the hospital calling to tell me he had an accident.  I had a whole scenario already played out in my head about this fictitious accident (the joys of motherhood).   In this scenario he was so upset that I left him that he threw himself down the stairs at their house and broke his leg. Obviously Nana and Poppy are very capable of taking care of him otherwise I wouldn’t have done the sleepover but I was convinced he would miss me and not be able to handle it.   Not the case whatsoever.  I think its safe to say that he was not phased at all about spending his first night without me.  I, on the other hand, did not do as well. 

Anyway, so I answered the call and the lady asked if I was George. I was planning on telling her I was glad it wasn’t the hospital but before I could she went into the whole story about her friend George’s wife and the cancer, crying. Nick was in the bathroom and missed the whole conversation but I posted on facebook  about how the weirdest stuff happens to me and an old friend of mine commented back and said that I have no force field and that she has seen me have these types of conversations with strangers.

So I started thinking about this. I honestly can’t think of a reason why I do this or why these situations  happen to me.  How does it even start? Am I giving off some sort of body language that says, “come over here and tell me your problems”? Or is my friend right about my lack of force field? Do I not have the invisible field around me keeping strangers away? Are you born with this force field or do you develop it over time? Why don’t I have one?  Maybe I missed this day in Psychology 101 about the force field. 

I don’t think I can stop it and I don’t see why I should or need to but why is  one person over another more susceptible to these situations? 

My mom also pointed out that I have a tendency to make friends with some relatively unstable people, have a short and turbulent friendship with them and then it ends for one reason or another.  This may be a force field problem as well.  A simple conversation with a stranger turns in to a weird friendship that will never last. 

I hate self reflecting.

Peace-The Saga Continues

Just for the record I would like to say that I WAS SO RIGHT about Peace! Thanks to my neighbor who went to their graduation party last weekend I received crucial information about him that I needed to continue with my stalking.

We were both invited to the party via notecard taped to our front doors. Mine said to please come to the party and if there are any problems or if they were too loud to call them. My neighbor’s was an apology for blaring their music out of the car at 3 am (she went out in her underwear and screamed at them last weekend) followed by an invite to the party.

I decided not to go because my dad was in town but mostly because I would have rather eaten my own leg off at the knee than have to be formally introduced to Peace.  I suppose if I would have had a few drinks I would have gone but I would have been really rude and sarcastic. I’m trying to cut back on that.

My neighbor said she felt like they were sincerely sorry about the 3 am business and she would make an appearance. She’s nicer than I am.

So she goes to the party. The next day she informs me that Peace (she was introduced to him but couldn’t remember his name because all she could think about was his more appropriate name, Peace) lives in the house with his sister THAT HIS DAD BOUGHT. He bought their cars, the house, the fucking dirt that is still out front, and all of the catered food for the party. Now I’m not saying it’s a bad thing or he’s a bad person for getting all that. I’ve had my fair share of things given to me by my parents but what really gets me is that I would never move in to a house my dad bought me and immediately piss off the neighbors. Even when I was 20. Most people have enough sense to know that when you are the new neighbor, you want to make a good impression. At least that’s what I would do.

The best part of the story is that when she was introduced to Peace  as “his neighbor” he slowly started backing away in a joking/maybe a little scared kind of way.  And what did my neighbor (who I thought was my friend) do? She says to him, “NO I’m not THAT neighbor across the street (pointing at my house), I live next to her!”. 

So something occurs to me as she’s telling me the story: this guy is afraid of me because I said a few words to his idiot friend  who parked in my driveway but he’s not scared of the crazy lady screaming on the front porch in her underwear at 3am? I don’t get it.

Ok ok, so they seem like nice people who don’t mean to cause problems but it all backfires when you are a TOTAL FUCKING IDIOT. Peace just rubs me the wrong way. I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it. I saw him walking home a few days ago in the pouring rain wearing only a bathing suit. He’s just making it so easy for me to continue to talk shit about him. I actually can’t come up with any explanation for that scenario which is annoying me. Where was he coming from? Was he swimming or is that just what he wears when it rains?

I’m sure I will continue to update on this fascinating subject. I told my neighbor that because she threw me under the bus at their party that I was going to do the same to her in this blog. How embarrassing for her that all my readers know she sleeps in her underwear.

I’m so immature.

Surprise Disguise Visit

My brother Patrick wrote his first novel The Cradle three years ago and it was a big deal for everyone in the family. We were all really excited about it and couldn’t wait for the release.

He was scheduled to do one of his first readings at a little bookstore in Green Bay. I had been talking to my mom about feeling bad that I wasn’t going to be there when we both decided that it would be really nice if I surprised him at the reading. I also thought it would be hilarious if I came in a disguise.  My mother did not think that was a good idea. In fact her exact words were,  “Oh Sara don’t do that, it’s ridiculous.”.  She was right. It was a little ridiculous. Just going there to see him was a surprise so I didn’t really need to do it.

My mom also said “he will recognize you right away” and I said “maybe, but I bet you wouldn’t even recognize me”. This went on and on and I eventually told her I wasn’t going to do it (but had already bought all the disguise supplies and had it all planned out).

I also thought that I should do a little test with my mom to see if she actually would recognize me.  I knew she wouldn’t but I was willing to give her a chance. I had a layover in Minneapolis and thought this would be a good place to get everything on. I put on the wig, some extra make-up and my glasses that I hardly wear and came out of the bathroom thinking I was crazy. 

I didn’t really think about the security issues with my disguise but  I did, however, decide last minute that I needed to make the frames of my glasses a different color. Once I was on the plane I asked the flight attendant if he had a permanent marker I could borrow and he asked why and I told him what I was doing and he was not impressed. After telling me he wasn’t allowed to lend things to passengers he said, “are we going to have a problem here?”.  I of course said no and huddled into my seat secretly a little worried that I might get kicked off the plane.  THAT would have really made my mom mad. 

Once off the plane I got my camera out and tried to situate it around my neck so I could take a video but still walk and talk without having to stop taping.  I didn’t want my mom to know that I was taping her. 

The video I took is of me coming off the plane to meet my mom.  The quality is really bad but it proves that my mother did not recognize me at all.  She told me she thought I was someone famous but didn’t know who.  I was alright with that.  I think she recognized me but her brain couldn’t put the pieces together. 

We went straight to the reading and once my mom stopped scolding me for tricking her I think she was excited about seeing if Pat would have the same reaction.  I let my mom go in first and I followed shortly after her with my friend Molly.  The reading was very crowded so I was able to sneak around without anyone noticing.   My dad was in the back of the room setting up the video camera and recognized me immediately and didn’t seem to think anything strange was going on.  No reaction whatsoever.   Maybe he was just playing along?  You never know with him.

So we all get seated for the reading and Patrick starts off with a few words about the book and where the idea came from etc…  He then read an excerpt from the book and took questions from the audience.   There were a lot of people asking questions and I waited my turn trying not to draw attention to myself too early.  It had to be the right time and I wanted him to look directly at me and answer my question. 

 I asked him a number of questions about the book and he looked right at me and answered them all.  It was hard to tell what was going on in his head but I could tell he thought something wasn’t quite right.   The last question I asked was if he was adopted (the part of the story he read was about adoption).  It was that moment when my mother turned around to tsk  me about asking such a stupid question that he figured it out.  Of course he couldn’t do anything about it because he was still answering questions and signing books.   He told me afterwards that when he saw me in the crowd and was answering my questions  that he  thought his brain was exploding.   Similar to what my mom experienced I think.  Kind of interesting to watch people try to unravel something they see and not being able to put a finger on it. 

In the end it was a really fun trip and the book has been a great success and I am really happy that I was able pull off a Surprise disguise Visit.  It’s a little concerning that my own family didn’t recognize me but I guess I can forgive them.

Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OowrHuA5gDs

Oh You Liked Being Pregnant?

Most of you have either known someone or have, yourself, been pregnant. For those of you that haven’t they say that you either love it or hate it. Guess which category I fell into? I think I can safely say I have some pretty disturbing memories of my pregnancy. Of course I would never take back what it has given me as Owen is the greatest thing in my life but man, getting here really really sucked.

I didn’t have a “bad” pregnancy per se. I wasn’t terribly sick or mad but I was very fat and the hormones seemed to have made me even more sarcastic than usual. I wish i could somehow get all my Facebook posts from that time for Owen’s baby book because I remember them being pretty funny in an awful and disgusting way.  I had no filter with my thoughts.  They all came pouring out of me all the time (more so than usual). When I was by myself I enjoyed feeling the kicks and talking to the bump and imagining what he would look like and what kind of boy he would turn in to.  But around my friends and family I made it very clear how bad I felt and how I wished it could just be over with as soon as possible.

The thing that set me off from the beginning was having to quit all of my “vices” immediately (smoking, alcohol, caffeine, Advil, ADD medication, etc..). I thought I was going to drop dead those first few days after I found out.  I stupidly quit everything all at once and proceeded to get a terrible migraine that I couldn’t take anything for. 

The other thing that really pissed me off is that I managed to gain 85 pounds in about 9 months. It was pretty amazing actually.  I have weighed about the same my entire life give or take a few pounds so it was a bit shocking to see the scale every month at the doctor go up 10 pounds.   I eventually stopped taking my shoes and purse off and just told the nurse those extra 3 pounds didn’t even matter anymore.

I lost 35 pounds in my 2 day stay at the hospital after Owen was born. I remember trying to get my winter boots on when we left for the hospital and not being able to zip up the front of them and leaving the hospital with them loosely hanging off my feet.   Owen was just under 8 pounds when he was born. All the extra stuff that comes with him about 7 pounds. That leaves me with 20 pounds. Twenty pounds of water.  DISGUSTING. During the weeks following the birth I lost another 20 pounds of water weight. I had sweat coming out of the pores in my feet. Nobody tells you about the massive sweating. They also don’t tell you about the amniotic fluid oozing out of your pores either.  I guess my body needed the extra 55 pounds of water?  Can someone please tell me why?

Another exciting thing about pregnancy is your feet swelling to unusual size. I wore these brown Crocs for the better part of 9 months and I remember physically sliding around in them from the mass amounts of sweat coming from my feet.  Eventually there was no room to slide so my feet sat in puddles of sweat. 

I was determined to walk everyday, sweaty feet and all,  as they say it helps with  labor(that’s a big fat lie).  I walked Grizwald  every day but towards the end I was walking so slow that Grizwald was literally trotting in place next to me. The walk that took me 45 minutes while pregnant now takes me three. 

My doctor works at a teaching hospital so there are always students and residents with her. I can’t remember exactly when I met “Geppner” (if you say it like Newman from Seinfeld it helps to imagine him) but it was towards the end of the pregnancy. He was observing one of my check ups and he seemed nice enough. Probably younger than me but not quite Doogie Howser.  One of my last appointments was just with him. It was that day that I realized how much I loved my regular doctor. I was due a few weeks from when I saw “Geppner” and he decided it would be a good time to tell me I had gained too much weight. Then he said he wanted to make sure i was eating right and getting enough exercise. I had to refrain myself from saying the following:

1.  Dude, I weigh 500 pounds
2. Isn’t this something that should have been brought up before I was about to pop?
3. I would like to see you try to carry this thing around.
4. Are you even old enough to be a doctor?
5. You really need to be careful what you say to a very pregnant lady because we are very unpredictable. 

I was so mad. Unreasonably mad. Of course I was unreasonable about everything at that point. I was a crazy person.

Three days after my due date and still no signs of real labor (besides the lovely mucus plug, I won’t get into it) I went in to see my doctor and she told me the baby was “sunny side up” (meaning he was head down but facing forward instead of backward) which is why I hadn’t gone into labor. I had been having contractions for a month and even had a false alarm trip to the hospital. She told me she was going to just turn him around really quick. I asked her how she was going to do that and she held up her hand and waved it in front of me.  Still confused I naively said “Ok, whhhatever”.   Yes, her hand. She used her hand to turn him. Without getting too graphic I’ll just tell you that she physically  grabbed his head and turned it.  With her hand.   I swear she is some sort of medicine woman/goddess.  I went in to labor an hour later.

What comes next is something that deserves its own special post. There are so many crazy things that happened in the course of 24 hours that it needs to be carefully thought out and planned before I write it.  Let’s just say that Geppner played a key role in the events that took place that day.  Geppner.

Translation

I am assuming there is a certain “language” all toddlers have that only their parents can understand.  If I am wrong then please, do me and my son a favor and tell me.  Either way it doesn’t really matter but if any of you have been through the toddler stage with your child you might be familiar with this “language”.

Owen will try to say anything you ask him to and usually gets the syllables and the tone correct but it’s the actual pronunciation that is off.  So I have made a “Translation Key”  for Owen’s words just in case any of you get stranded on an island with him. 

Check out my awesome Microsoft Word skills here:

Translation Key

*note-these are the words that are most confusing, not the only words in his repertoire. 

I would like to mention that my lovely brother (http://www.patricksomerville.com/) taught him the word Jesus over Skype a few months back and it is one of the clearest words he says.  My brother, the author, with the immense vocabulary, taught him to say Jesus.  I can’t think of a word we use less of in this house.  Of course, I said it the other day about the number of sugar ants on my counter and he said it back to me.  It is possible that I taught him the word.  I also heard him repeat the word Dammit last week.   Time for a swear jar.

It Bloody Well Serves You Right

The same year Elmo was stolen I  had a “freshman drunken injury”. The reason I’m telling this is because the events that took place following my fall are quite fantastic (in hindsight of course). Let’s just say that the outcome of this fiasco was me getting kicked out of the campus urgent care for being a smartass to the doctor on call which led to me not being properly treated for my broken foot.

It all started when a bunch of us girls decided to go off campus to a party at a friend’s house. We went over there to play cards and I ended up getting waaaay too intoxicated.  There was a point in the evening when I remember that every time I made a noise of any kind (talking, coughing, sniffing etc…) I had to take a drink of whatever I was drinking.

This was  obviously not the smartest thing I have ever done but college makes you do really stupid things in the name of fun. I don’t regret much in my life but I do wish I could take this night back.

After the party my roommate and I headed back to the dorms to go to bed. We both had our beds in a lofted position with one ladder that led to both. I had to cross over into her bed to get up and down the ladder.

As soon as we settled into bed and someone knocked on the door. My roommate refused to answer it so I did (this was the regret part). According to her I didn’t even make it onto the first rung of the ladder. I did however,  go down it. But not with my feet. I remember plunging to the floor taking everything I could get my hands on with me including an alarm clock a fan and some pillows.

I did land on my feet. Well, one foot actually. The side of one foot. I remember laying there thinking to myself something was wrong with my foot but all I could focus on was the broken fan spinning near my ear and how I could potentially be hurt by it.  I managed to get up and hop to the door to answer it and seeing my friend walking down the hall. I yelled to him to come back and help me but he said he was tired.

I finally convinced my roommate to get down from bed to assess the situation. She was yelling at me telling me to just go to bed but I couldn’t. She finally gets down and says “MOVE YOUR TOES”,  “SARA! MOVE YOUR TOES!”. I yelled back “I AM!!!”. I guess they weren’t moving because she said “I think we need to go to the hospital”.

I met my roommate about a week before school started.  She was from Montana and was the scariest person I had ever met (of course that’s not saying much since I grew up in green bay and the scariest person there was the lunch lady from grade school).  She was one of the top shot put and discus throwers in the state. She was also probably the strongest girl i had ever met. I say this because without her carrying me half a mile across campus on her shoulders in the middle of winter I would have been in real trouble. She even fell on the ice once and managed to not let go of me.

We get to the campus hospital around 3 am and I am sobering up a little and starting to feel the pain yet still drunk enough to be a total pain in the ass to the doctor. I don’t know why I felt the need to give him such a hard time. I take that back.  I do know why.  It’s because I was obviously drunk and he asked me how much I had to drink that night. I was annoyed because I assumed it was obvious by my behavior that I had more than I should have. I became so obnoxious at one point that he had to separate me from the rest of the patients that were staying there. He left the room at one point and when he came back in I yelled “what’s up fucker!” as loud as I could. Of course my roommate and I thought it was hilarious.  He definitely punished me for it.

Fed up and obviously not concerned with my overall health the doctor sent me home with a very tight ace bandage wrapped around my foot. He told me there was nothing he could do and since I had so much to drink he couldn’t give me any pain medication.  When we got back to the dorms it was about 4 in the morning and I remember a bunch of people in our room trying to figure out how they were going to get me up into my lofted bed.  Even out 4 foot tall RA was there adding her words of wisdom.  I can’t remember how I got up there but someone must have hoisted me in. 

It’s always difficult waking up in the morning after a long night of drinking. Even more difficult with an untreated broken foot. The doctor had wrapped my foot so tightly that it had swelled around the bandage. I took the bandage off and my entire foot was blue. Not. Good.

We decided it was probably a good idea to go to the ER and have it x-rayed. I knew it was broken. I think I have broken at least 10 bones in my body and I know the look of a broken bone and certainly know the feeling.

I ended up with a walking cast and crutches for the next 8 weeks. Did I mention it was the middle of winter? Crutches on ice are incredibly embarrassing not to mention useless. I recall some “friends” enjoying stealing my crutches and throwing snowballs at me.

The worst part was having to fly home for Thanksgiving and having to explain to my entire family what happened. I thought about making up a nicer story but I’ve never been very good at lying so I just stuck with the truth. Most of the family thought it was pretty funny except for my mother.  My mother, with her English accent, said something to the effect of,  “it bloody well serves you right” and still says that to me when I bring it up.  I bet she will say it when she reads this.