Just Pee in the Cup Already!

Sweet EmmaLou, Golden Destroyer has had some health issues of late.  The most annoying one (for all of us) is a stomach problem — she has issues with digesting her food and she burps louder and longer than a longshoreman.  Poor Em!

She willingly went to the vet’s because she likes it there.  I don’t like it at my doctor’s office, but I’m not a dog.  Anyway, the vet is aware of the issue; Em’s been on meds prior to this visit.  But, the problem returns.  He suggests obtaining a blood sample, giving her her annual shots (which were due), refilling her heartworm and flea prevention meds, and oh, here’s a plastic tray…please get a sample of her urine.

Excuse me?

This morning bright (well, actually it was dark) and early, the whole family goes out to the backyard to obtain a pee sample from EmmaLou.  I was on leash and flashlight duty; Devoted Spouse had the little (and I do mean little) plastic tray at the ready.  Em sniffs around, squats down, I yell at Devoted Spouse, “NOW!”, he slides the tray under her and EmmaLou jumps straight up in the air taking her precious pee with her.

Take Two:  “C’mon sweetie puppy girl…pee in the cup.”  Yes, dogs can get a hateful look on their faces.  Finally she squatted again and we repeated the above exercise.  It didn’t work the second time, either.

Devoted Spouse took EmmaLou out on her morning walk, where she peed like someone who’s had their bladder stopped up for a month.  Peed all up and down the street.  Did we get a sample?  No…forgot the tray.

While running errands, I stopped in the vet’s office.  They laughed and laughed but finally agreed I could bring her up late in the day and THEY would try the little plastic tray trick.

EmmaLou and I, meanwhile, have decided we should never speak of this barbaric intrusion into her personal life again.  Sigh…

Out of the Mouths of…Husbands

Reacting to my aching back and the fact I announced I was about to carry some loads of laundry to the basement, the conversation went like this:
Me:  I’m gonna take down some laundry in a little while.

Devoted Spouse:  No, you’re not.

Me:  Oh, yeah, I am.

Devoted Spouse:  No! You can’t carry down; you can’t carry up…but…you can karaoke.

Seriously, this is my life…sigh…

Feeling Like a Pinterest Pincushion

Saints preserve us…I’ve spent my day pinning on Pinterest.  If you haven’t heard of it, well it’s another bright idea someone came up with to steal time.  And it works.  It’s brilliant.  Simply log on, set up some “boards”, grab a “pin it” button for your bookmarks toolbar, and then go web surfing, pinning what you pine for.

Hours upon hours of my life today I can’t recover.  I am still in my pajamas.  It’s supper time.  I haven’t peed in I don’t know how long.  I haven’t eaten.  But, I think I have 8 boards now and a paltry 15 followers. I even added a Follow Me on Pinterest button to this blog (Gasp!)  And, while I’d like to continue this posting, I.Have.To.Return.To.Pinterest.

I’ve Pinterested and I can’t get up…sigh…

The Attack of the 80 Foot Gallbladder

pic from National Archives

I was enjoying a lovely breakfast of pancakes and bacon at my local Bob Evans when I realized I wasn’t really hungry.  Leaving half my food on the plate, I left and went about my day.  Errands, errands, ooh ice cream, errands, come home & read a book.  Pretty normal day for me (minus the ice cream).

We had a guest in the house; a guest who was like family, but a guest nonetheless.  I started feeling rather wonky around suppertime.  Wonky as in “If I inhale many more food fumes I will hurl.”  I made dinner for Devoted Spouse and our guest and retired to the bedroom to rest.

I thought a nice tv show might get my mind off my queasy tummy.  Turning on the tv, I landed on the Food Channel and promptly ran to the bathroom to hurl.  By that time I was pretty sure something was amiss.  The guest and Devoted Spouse were still enjoying their dinner, grrr.

A little voice told me, change your clothes…put on clean underwear…brush your teeth and do something with your hair.  I think it’s a girl thing.  A stupid girl thing because by that time I was all sweaty and there was no chance of doing anything with my hair.  sigh

At 10:00 that night, I walked into the kitchen all hunched over and looking a lovely shade of grey (no…not Fifty Shades…) to the horror of our guest and managed to scare the puddin’ outta Devoted Spouse.  I announced, “Hospital, now!”  The guest was concerned, Devoted Spouse was very concerned (and looking for car keys) and I was searching for a knife large enough to cut out Freddie Kruger (who I was sure was living in my belly).  It was not pretty.

Almost six days later I had been in two different hospitals, been sedated for a gnarly test involving tubes down one’s throat into the gallbladder (ack ack) and had a virtual munchkin stranger suck out one of my major organs leaving me with four rather painful holes and something disgusting hanging out of me called a drain.  (oh ack squared) (you may hurl now).

So that’s what I did on MY summer vacation kids. Even if you desperately wish to lose weight (I’m down 20 lbs now) I suggest you not try this.  It’s right up there with abscessed teeth…or maybe being run over by a truck.  Yes, the bills are arriving daily.  We’re over $22,000 at present.  Didja miss me?  sigh…

Food Glorious Food

pic courtesy of life123.com

Will someone please explain to me why here in the Midwest restaurants think cole slaw is an appetizer?  Every time DS and I go to one of the family restaurants in this area, if I order cole slaw as a side, it arrives prior to my meal.  Do they think it’s a first course?  I don’t know about you, but I like my cole slaw WITH my meal.  A “side” accompanies the meal, yes?  just sayin’.

Do you ever give in to indulgence and order that honkin’ huge milkshake…you know, the one with gobs of whipped cream?  Oh puhleeze, you know you do.  My question is why do they fill the plastic cups so full and add that strange circular top with the opening for a straw, so that by the time you put the milkshake in your cup container, it has spilled all over you, and flows like a volcano all throughout the car? I think the server behind that little glass window gets extra points if this happens to the customer.  “Hey! Got another one wet!” Why can’t they make a top that fits correctly?  Grrrrr.

I always thought Bob Evans made the best pancakes.  Plus they’re close to my house.  Less gas money.  I went for breakfast last week while Devoted Spouse was out doing his church gig.  I ordered blueberry pancakes, my personal fav.  I got about halfway through and realized these pancakes were getting soggier and soggier and it wasn’t the syrup.  I was putting batter on my fork.  Ack.  No thanks.  Yes, got a refund.  Politely declined offer of more pancakes.

Speaking of barbecue…well sort of.  Went to a local barbecue restaurant and ordered Texas brisket.  Having not eaten brisket, Texas or otherwise, I was quite excited to see what it was all about.  Imagine my disgust when a plate was put in front of me swimming in grease with overdone meat covered with fat.  It was nasty.  I didn’t eat it.  I was surprised anyone would serve that.  When the waitress asked me about it, I explained that I didn’t favor a meal that is swimming on my plate.  She apologized all over me, offered to replace it (I had lost my appetite by then), and left to get a refill on my unsweetened iced tea.  The tea arrived and it was sweetened.  The waitress disappeared.  Devoted Spouse contentedly munched his pulled pork sandwich.  The owner came over, apologizing repeatedly and backpedaling on why I was given such a nasty piece of meat.  Turns out I received the “end” and nobody thought to actually look at the plate and see what they were serving to a customer.  He offered a better piece of brisket.  I declined.  He offered a pound of pulled pork for me to take home.  I declined.  He offered me a free beverage.  I not only declined, but let him know the one I had was not what I ordered.  He comped the check.  That’s what he should have done to begin with.  Devoted Spouse went home with a happy tummy.  I stopped for ice cream…sigh…