Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Balderdash Blog
Where did the term "stomping ground" originate? Some terms we use came from literal meanings and some are just plain silliness. Can anyone tell me about this one? I think this will be a new random blog insert along with What the Crap episodes. Did people stomp on their home ground? Why did they stomp? What did stomping infer?
Voluminous Vomit Part 2
As you know, Emma has recovered from her battle with the Roto Virus. We did return to the hospital and stayed Sunday through Tuesday with Emma attached to an IV because of severe dehydration. All Mommies agree that it is a painful thing to watch, but Jeremy and I are both thankful that she experienced it because it brought her back to the healthy state we knew before. She is now climbing around and laughing and getting into things that she shouldn't. Life is grand...
...until Mommy and Daddy go on a date with friends Saturday night. We leave Emma with the kiddos of Alexanders and the Skippers as they are watched by the DeHarts & the Penningtons. Back story: I had been somewhat ill earlier in the day to the point where shopping for church in the Home Depot had become the most tedious thing I had to accomplish. I literally sat down on a box in the Home Depot to take a breather. If only Emma could walk, I think I could have managed better, but I was toting her around with my friend Kaci pushing the cart behind us with Jonathan in the cart. I went home and crashed and then felt fine. Fine to the point where I was doing craft projects around the house and playing with Emma.
We join our friends for the evening and have dinner at an Italian establishment in town. I probably ate 1/3 of my Lasagna along with salad and breadsticks. Then we journey to the theater to see the Chronicles of Narnia. I started fading again, but this time I didn't feel feverish - just nauseated. I did the seat squirm trying to find that position we all search for that will make the discomfort go away. Right when the movie begins - I spring into action.
I will try to give you the fun visual. I am running down the stairs as best as one can in stilleto heel boots and knocking people out of my way as they are still making their way into the ALREADY CROWDED theater. I cannot say excuse me or pardon me because speaking may awaken the beast. I probably did knock one woman against the wall, but I am sorry. You must understand the urgency.
I make it to a stall and YACK! Now all of you are thinking, great Jodi. Please know that my immediate thought is - "I am so sorry all of you poor patrons of the arts who are now having your evening ruined by hearing such an atrocious sound." I felt embarassed and mortified. However, after EVERY SINGLE BIT OF MY DINNER THAT EVENING LEFT THE BUILDING, I felt tremendously better. Don't you love that feeling? I always feel better after I do the technicolored yawn. Feels better outside instead of inside.
I have completed the exercise and realize that I now need to clean up my mess and myself. Much to my delight, I have chosen a stall with NO TOILET PAPER! Some sweet woman asked me if I needed a paper towel and I politely declined. How could I subject her to my sphere by even having her toss a paper towel in my direction? I go through the ordeal over and over again in my head and I think I looked at the dispenser 7 or 8 times hoping that toilet paper would just appear. Alas, it did not.
So I exit the stall and there stands this pre-teen who says all she can say, "sorry." I told her, "no, I'm sorry. Could I get you to do me a favor though and go tell someone from the theaters what has happened so they can clean it up?" She agrees to do so. I step into a stall down the way to get some toilet paper so I can clean up some of the mess myself. I step back out into the alley of stalls to see a lovely woman about to enter my crime scene. I shouted at her, "NO! Don't go in there!"
She looks at me politely, yet strangely and says, "OK". I told her I was cleaning it up. What do you say?
"Hey Lady, I just barfed!"
"Don't want you to have to see my leftovers"
I told her nothing and she, of course, thought I was odd. So I clean up the my shoes & the seat, but I left the floor mess. Now here is where it gets even better. I decide that I must protect all other patrons from seeing this gruesome display and I stood in front of the stall to keep people from going inside it. It isn't the 10th stall in the back of the bathroom. No, no. It is the 2nd stall immediately seen upon entering. As I wait, I see 3 people from church and 1 coworker who all are now joining with the rest of Fort Worth wanting to know why the crazy lady in the bathroom is so protective of that one toilet. I had to explain my story each time.
Like 15 minutes later some theater personel came and began the trecherous work of cleaning my mess. As I was waiting on them, I couldn't get the freaking automatic sinks to produce water so I was running up and down the sink counter wiggling my hands like a muppet. Finally one of the workers came and got one to work for me. I felt compelled to stay until it was clean and I apologized seventeen thousand times. Then I had to pee. That sends me into another stall. I am sure they thought, "well crap, is she going to do it again?" I came back out and began the muppet dance again. I finally leave the bathroom only to find my darling husband standing outside waiting on me as he had been doing so for the previous 20-30 minutes. I climb back up the stairs into the theater and sit and enjoy a great movie, but knowing the whole time I have just had another Powell moment we will all never forget.
Needless to say, I am anti-Italian for a little while.
...until Mommy and Daddy go on a date with friends Saturday night. We leave Emma with the kiddos of Alexanders and the Skippers as they are watched by the DeHarts & the Penningtons. Back story: I had been somewhat ill earlier in the day to the point where shopping for church in the Home Depot had become the most tedious thing I had to accomplish. I literally sat down on a box in the Home Depot to take a breather. If only Emma could walk, I think I could have managed better, but I was toting her around with my friend Kaci pushing the cart behind us with Jonathan in the cart. I went home and crashed and then felt fine. Fine to the point where I was doing craft projects around the house and playing with Emma.
We join our friends for the evening and have dinner at an Italian establishment in town. I probably ate 1/3 of my Lasagna along with salad and breadsticks. Then we journey to the theater to see the Chronicles of Narnia. I started fading again, but this time I didn't feel feverish - just nauseated. I did the seat squirm trying to find that position we all search for that will make the discomfort go away. Right when the movie begins - I spring into action.
I will try to give you the fun visual. I am running down the stairs as best as one can in stilleto heel boots and knocking people out of my way as they are still making their way into the ALREADY CROWDED theater. I cannot say excuse me or pardon me because speaking may awaken the beast. I probably did knock one woman against the wall, but I am sorry. You must understand the urgency.
I make it to a stall and YACK! Now all of you are thinking, great Jodi. Please know that my immediate thought is - "I am so sorry all of you poor patrons of the arts who are now having your evening ruined by hearing such an atrocious sound." I felt embarassed and mortified. However, after EVERY SINGLE BIT OF MY DINNER THAT EVENING LEFT THE BUILDING, I felt tremendously better. Don't you love that feeling? I always feel better after I do the technicolored yawn. Feels better outside instead of inside.
I have completed the exercise and realize that I now need to clean up my mess and myself. Much to my delight, I have chosen a stall with NO TOILET PAPER! Some sweet woman asked me if I needed a paper towel and I politely declined. How could I subject her to my sphere by even having her toss a paper towel in my direction? I go through the ordeal over and over again in my head and I think I looked at the dispenser 7 or 8 times hoping that toilet paper would just appear. Alas, it did not.
So I exit the stall and there stands this pre-teen who says all she can say, "sorry." I told her, "no, I'm sorry. Could I get you to do me a favor though and go tell someone from the theaters what has happened so they can clean it up?" She agrees to do so. I step into a stall down the way to get some toilet paper so I can clean up some of the mess myself. I step back out into the alley of stalls to see a lovely woman about to enter my crime scene. I shouted at her, "NO! Don't go in there!"
She looks at me politely, yet strangely and says, "OK". I told her I was cleaning it up. What do you say?
"Hey Lady, I just barfed!"
"Don't want you to have to see my leftovers"
I told her nothing and she, of course, thought I was odd. So I clean up the my shoes & the seat, but I left the floor mess. Now here is where it gets even better. I decide that I must protect all other patrons from seeing this gruesome display and I stood in front of the stall to keep people from going inside it. It isn't the 10th stall in the back of the bathroom. No, no. It is the 2nd stall immediately seen upon entering. As I wait, I see 3 people from church and 1 coworker who all are now joining with the rest of Fort Worth wanting to know why the crazy lady in the bathroom is so protective of that one toilet. I had to explain my story each time.
Like 15 minutes later some theater personel came and began the trecherous work of cleaning my mess. As I was waiting on them, I couldn't get the freaking automatic sinks to produce water so I was running up and down the sink counter wiggling my hands like a muppet. Finally one of the workers came and got one to work for me. I felt compelled to stay until it was clean and I apologized seventeen thousand times. Then I had to pee. That sends me into another stall. I am sure they thought, "well crap, is she going to do it again?" I came back out and began the muppet dance again. I finally leave the bathroom only to find my darling husband standing outside waiting on me as he had been doing so for the previous 20-30 minutes. I climb back up the stairs into the theater and sit and enjoy a great movie, but knowing the whole time I have just had another Powell moment we will all never forget.
Needless to say, I am anti-Italian for a little while.
Friday, December 09, 2005
Childhood Phobias
Do you have anything unusual that you are absolutely terrified of?
Heights, bugs, terrorists, crowds, snakes, public speaking, rollercoasters, airplanes, etc.
How about being afraid of something as a child that you have grown out of over the years or even just recently?
Some people are scared of dogs as children - understandable. They are big and slobbery and loud and sometimes they even bite. Some people are scared of clowns - semi-understandable. They are masked people with abnormally sized noses, mouths & hair. Plus there is the ever present abnormality in the Stephen King classic IT that adds to peoples fears.
I was afraid of men with facial hair. Not men in general, men with facial hair. It was so bad that I even avoided certain family members at gatherings because they either had a beard or mustache and they scared me. I knew who they were, but they freightened me horribly. The father of my best friend at church would even grow a beard every winter and I would avoid him for about 3-4 months. Obviously this is not an extreme fear of mine anymore, but it existed and unfortunately...
...I have passed it onto my daughter. We journeyed to the mall yesterday to have our picture taken with Santa. She cried worse than she did on Monday morning when they took her blood at the hospital. We took the picture anyway after two separate attempts to visit Santa. I wasn't that impressed with the Santa figure because he made ABSOLUTELY NO EFFORT TO CONSOLE OR WELCOME MY DAUGHTER. He wouldn't offer her puffs or a bottle to lure her into his lap. He just stared at her - literally. Jeremy would move closer to him and she would grasp Jeremy's shirt even tighter. So partly, Santa is to blame, but mostly Emma's fear is inherited from her freako Mommy.
Merry Christmas all!
Heights, bugs, terrorists, crowds, snakes, public speaking, rollercoasters, airplanes, etc.
How about being afraid of something as a child that you have grown out of over the years or even just recently?
Some people are scared of dogs as children - understandable. They are big and slobbery and loud and sometimes they even bite. Some people are scared of clowns - semi-understandable. They are masked people with abnormally sized noses, mouths & hair. Plus there is the ever present abnormality in the Stephen King classic IT that adds to peoples fears.
I was afraid of men with facial hair. Not men in general, men with facial hair. It was so bad that I even avoided certain family members at gatherings because they either had a beard or mustache and they scared me. I knew who they were, but they freightened me horribly. The father of my best friend at church would even grow a beard every winter and I would avoid him for about 3-4 months. Obviously this is not an extreme fear of mine anymore, but it existed and unfortunately...
...I have passed it onto my daughter. We journeyed to the mall yesterday to have our picture taken with Santa. She cried worse than she did on Monday morning when they took her blood at the hospital. We took the picture anyway after two separate attempts to visit Santa. I wasn't that impressed with the Santa figure because he made ABSOLUTELY NO EFFORT TO CONSOLE OR WELCOME MY DAUGHTER. He wouldn't offer her puffs or a bottle to lure her into his lap. He just stared at her - literally. Jeremy would move closer to him and she would grasp Jeremy's shirt even tighter. So partly, Santa is to blame, but mostly Emma's fear is inherited from her freako Mommy.
Merry Christmas all!
Friday, December 02, 2005
Voluminous Vomit
When traveling in Birmingham last week during Thanksgiving, I discovered that my child, though only roughly over 15 lbs., can produce an excessive amout of fluid projecting from her body. This adventurous little encounter can be related to the fact that she is more than likely allergic to soy. She was fine the rest of the trip and never ran a fever. However, her body DEEPLY rejected the soy along with everything else.
Unfortunately, we encountered this act yesterday afternoon and well into the evening as she yet again released every item that had been engulfed for the day. We monitored her for several hours thinking that she may have had bad milk or formula or food, but we reached a lathargic state with sporadic dry heaving and knew it might be more. After a couple of hours of trying to get her to keep down an OUNCE of Pedialyte, the doctor suggested we take her to the ER because of fear of dehydration.
So 7:00, off we go to the hospital. I hope you are already visualizing this next episode of "What the Crap?" Jeremy drops us off at the ER at Cooks Children's Hospital and I stop in my tracks when I walk in because the waiting room is already bursting. I knew it would be a long night. We register Emma and the perform the preliminary assessment within about 10 minutes. Gave me false hope! Darn them. Needless to say, we waited a little over 3 hours before going back to see a doctor. I knew we were still waiting when the child who was already in the waiting room with a bleeding bandage around his HEAD was still walking around WAITING! Hmmm.
We managed though. Emma only vomited 4-5 times while we were in the hospital and by then it was not voluminous anymore. She slept the rest of the time from exhaustion. Now, I must tell you that I am a BIG "People Watcher", so I spent quite a bit of time taking in the crowd and assessing their situations. From time to time, Jeremy joins in with me on this activity. After a couple of hours of this, we have decided that we must share with you all that the best evening entertainment is sitting in the waiting room and watching children run amuck.
Let me set the scene. It is crowded and parents are tired and they have more than one child with them and you reach a point that as long as they are not poking another child in the eye, whatever. In Cooks' waiting room, there is this giant faux aquarium. Along the bottom of the wall that the aquarium is housed is a panel of buttons. Each button activates a different stimulant in the aquarium. For instance, there is an eel that will come out from behind the reef if you press the eel button.
Because I do not want to steal his thunder, I must now direct you to Jeremy's site for the rest of the story. It will be the story describing "Justin" and "Little Jonathan Winters".
Emma is still running a fever so prayer for her would be appreciated. Mommy and Daddy are both still well, but very tired. She apparently had a very bad stomach bug and her precious spirit was so pitiful. She has slept a ton in the past 24 hours. Sleep is healing, but her little body needs nutrition as well.
Unfortunately, we encountered this act yesterday afternoon and well into the evening as she yet again released every item that had been engulfed for the day. We monitored her for several hours thinking that she may have had bad milk or formula or food, but we reached a lathargic state with sporadic dry heaving and knew it might be more. After a couple of hours of trying to get her to keep down an OUNCE of Pedialyte, the doctor suggested we take her to the ER because of fear of dehydration.
So 7:00, off we go to the hospital. I hope you are already visualizing this next episode of "What the Crap?" Jeremy drops us off at the ER at Cooks Children's Hospital and I stop in my tracks when I walk in because the waiting room is already bursting. I knew it would be a long night. We register Emma and the perform the preliminary assessment within about 10 minutes. Gave me false hope! Darn them. Needless to say, we waited a little over 3 hours before going back to see a doctor. I knew we were still waiting when the child who was already in the waiting room with a bleeding bandage around his HEAD was still walking around WAITING! Hmmm.
We managed though. Emma only vomited 4-5 times while we were in the hospital and by then it was not voluminous anymore. She slept the rest of the time from exhaustion. Now, I must tell you that I am a BIG "People Watcher", so I spent quite a bit of time taking in the crowd and assessing their situations. From time to time, Jeremy joins in with me on this activity. After a couple of hours of this, we have decided that we must share with you all that the best evening entertainment is sitting in the waiting room and watching children run amuck.
Let me set the scene. It is crowded and parents are tired and they have more than one child with them and you reach a point that as long as they are not poking another child in the eye, whatever. In Cooks' waiting room, there is this giant faux aquarium. Along the bottom of the wall that the aquarium is housed is a panel of buttons. Each button activates a different stimulant in the aquarium. For instance, there is an eel that will come out from behind the reef if you press the eel button.
Because I do not want to steal his thunder, I must now direct you to Jeremy's site for the rest of the story. It will be the story describing "Justin" and "Little Jonathan Winters".
Emma is still running a fever so prayer for her would be appreciated. Mommy and Daddy are both still well, but very tired. She apparently had a very bad stomach bug and her precious spirit was so pitiful. She has slept a ton in the past 24 hours. Sleep is healing, but her little body needs nutrition as well.
Thursday, December 01, 2005
Texaco
I am not referring to the gas station, but rather the blend of Texas and Mexico. We were discussing in class today the Mexican governmental perspective on the American immigrants in Texas during the 1820s. I always try to emphasize the Mexican standpoint because to their history and heritage, their argument for the fear of rebellion was extremely justifiable. Had they had enough organization and manpower, they might have kept the Texas Revolution from being victorious for the American/Texans - maybe.
What would life be like if the Great Migration had not pushed Americans West into Texas and Texas was still a part of Mexico?
Or what would life be like of Texas had never been accepted into the Union and was still struggling to be it's own state?
Deep-rooted Texans argue we should secede now from the US. Are they crazy? I think so, but some of you might not.
hmmmm...
What would life be like if the Great Migration had not pushed Americans West into Texas and Texas was still a part of Mexico?
Or what would life be like of Texas had never been accepted into the Union and was still struggling to be it's own state?
Deep-rooted Texans argue we should secede now from the US. Are they crazy? I think so, but some of you might not.
hmmmm...
Mornings
They start your day! How many of you are morning people? It really must be emphasized that you must be one or the other. You see, I am truly a morning person. I think I went through a stage in high school where I forced myself to sleep in because that is what you did if you were a teenager. However, in college, if I wasn't up until dawn working on a paper or hanging out with friends I was usually up at dawn. Sleeping in for me is 7:30. Now granted, I am not out of control with excitement when I roll out of the bed - except on CHRISTMAS MORNING OR MY BIRTHDAY!! Those are two exceptions where I am just beside myself. Every other day I have to have my morning shower with a good face splashing to get me going. After that though, I am raring to go. Now we must be aware there are varying degrees of both species - morning people and non-morning people. There are those wonderful people who awake at 4:30 with a smile on their face ready to love on everyone. I am a step down from there.
Then there are non-morning people and their varying degrees. Some are just grumpy and in need of their caffeine and then they are ok. Some are mean for a few hours so it is best to not deal with them. I have witnessed both. Non-morning people are night owls. I am not. I shut down around 9:30 or 10:00.
Night Owls do not understand Morniing People and vice versa. However, if both are kind to one another and accepting of each other, there is no tension. For example, if you are extreme morning person, do not get in Night Owl's face and sing songs at 8:00 or talk really fast about your day. On the same note, Night Owl's should not drag their Morning Person friend to an 11:00 movie = wasted $7.50.
What are you? Can you tolerate and respect the other? Think about it.
Then there are non-morning people and their varying degrees. Some are just grumpy and in need of their caffeine and then they are ok. Some are mean for a few hours so it is best to not deal with them. I have witnessed both. Non-morning people are night owls. I am not. I shut down around 9:30 or 10:00.
Night Owls do not understand Morniing People and vice versa. However, if both are kind to one another and accepting of each other, there is no tension. For example, if you are extreme morning person, do not get in Night Owl's face and sing songs at 8:00 or talk really fast about your day. On the same note, Night Owl's should not drag their Morning Person friend to an 11:00 movie = wasted $7.50.
What are you? Can you tolerate and respect the other? Think about it.
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