Last night Daddio and I were sailing down the road in the coupe exchanging some small talk about the kids.
I mentioned remembering a time when we thought one of them was sick...really sick.
And how scared I was.
A blogging mom I follow recently suffered through a health scare with her small son.
She wrote about thinking that every bump, every bruise, every misplaced hair follicle had her pos-i-tive that SOMETHING was WRONG.
Like me, she takes it to SOMETHING is VERY VERY VERY WRONG in about two seconds flat.
She says that this is her Achilles heel.
And I told Daddio the same is true about me.
I think it has something to do with losing my brother?
Or maybe it's because my parents divorced?
Or maybe I'm all my kids are sick "paranoid" because my arms were too hairy in the 5th grade (and I had to wear a cardigan sweater for 180 days straight so no one could see them)...
I guess I don't need to lay blame.
I am what I am.
And this is what it is.
But I don't like it.
Cause it makes my stomach hurt.
As a side note, I also obsessively worry about my parent's health, my sister's (and her family's) health, Daddio's health, Daddio's family's health, my friend's health, and my own health.
I also worry about this little girl...she's getting up in years.
Is that a bump on her stomach? Do you see a cataract in her eye? Was that a heartbeat that was skipped? Why is she breathing all rattle trap like that?
Maybe she has a pea stuck up her nose???
That happened once to Susan...another story for another day ;-)
Have a blessed and peaceful Wednesday....and may all your inner demons be on good behavior today.
Showing posts with label Coo Coo for Cocoa Puffs...See Urban Dictionary. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Coo Coo for Cocoa Puffs...See Urban Dictionary. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Monday, September 20, 2010
The grapes of wrath...
How many times do you think of your own death?
Right before you jump, parachuted, out of a plane?
Right before you rush into a burning building?
Right before you eat my mother's cooking?
(Mom, I SWEAR TO GOD, I'M KIDDING)
Of course if you do any of that kind of stuff, you probably think of the death of you more often than the average person.
I on the other hand, am one that doesn't do risky.
I mean I do text and eat a taco (simultaneously) while driving.
But doesn't everyone?
(Mom...put down the phone, I'M STILL KIDDING).
And even though I really try to avoid risky, I'm somewhat preoccupied with thoughts of my own death... (and ways to prevent it).
While pondering my demise I've dreamt up many romantic and exciting endings.
Laying in a beautiful canopy bed, draped in satin and lace curtains surrounded by my huge family and about 1000 of my closest and dearest friends.
A classy exit....
Or, I will be 106 and Daddio 107 and we will go to sleep one night and that will be it.
Just like in the movie "The Notebook".
(Man, I love that movie)
I'd like to think that I'm totally normal in pondering my own death.
But something tells me I'm not.
Lately, in dealing with my own personal war against my own personal terror(ism), and borrowing the National Homeland Security Advisory System I've placed myself at the Warning Level Orange....
Which is HIGH.
The most recent enemy....
an ordinary purple grape.
I've become addicted,
and eat them by the hands full,
every day.
One recently purchased bag had bunches of grapes with really tough skins.
And eating them I became conscious of the possibility (probability...remember the Orange level) that I could choke on one.
Cause one is all it would take...right?
One to block my windpipe.
Then I wondered... could the Heimlich maneuver dislodge a determined grape?
Then I thought about where I might be and who would perform the heroic deed...?
Then I remembered that I heard once that people throw up when they get the Heimlich.
So not only would I suffer the indignity of having the maneuver done in order to save my life....I'd more than likely puke on the table or the floor.
Puke in front of people.
I'm still eating grapes.
But I chew each one really well.
And I'd advise you to do the same.
(Disclaimer #1: I really am kidding about my mom's cooking, she makes a wicked New England boiled dinner, awesome Spanish Pork Chops, and the best Chocolate Malt Milkshakes the world has ever known, to name a few. Disclaimer #2: I'm not making fun of choking deaths...I've actually very fearful of one.)
Right before you jump, parachuted, out of a plane?
Right before you rush into a burning building?
Right before you eat my mother's cooking?
(Mom, I SWEAR TO GOD, I'M KIDDING)
Of course if you do any of that kind of stuff, you probably think of the death of you more often than the average person.
I on the other hand, am one that doesn't do risky.
I mean I do text and eat a taco (simultaneously) while driving.
But doesn't everyone?
(Mom...put down the phone, I'M STILL KIDDING).
And even though I really try to avoid risky, I'm somewhat preoccupied with thoughts of my own death... (and ways to prevent it).
While pondering my demise I've dreamt up many romantic and exciting endings.
Laying in a beautiful canopy bed, draped in satin and lace curtains surrounded by my huge family and about 1000 of my closest and dearest friends.
A classy exit....
Or, I will be 106 and Daddio 107 and we will go to sleep one night and that will be it.
Just like in the movie "The Notebook".
(Man, I love that movie)
I'd like to think that I'm totally normal in pondering my own death.
But something tells me I'm not.
Lately, in dealing with my own personal war against my own personal terror(ism), and borrowing the National Homeland Security Advisory System I've placed myself at the Warning Level Orange....
Which is HIGH.
The most recent enemy....
an ordinary purple grape.
I've become addicted,
and eat them by the hands full,
every day.
One recently purchased bag had bunches of grapes with really tough skins.
And eating them I became conscious of the possibility (probability...remember the Orange level) that I could choke on one.
Cause one is all it would take...right?
One to block my windpipe.
Then I wondered... could the Heimlich maneuver dislodge a determined grape?
Then I thought about where I might be and who would perform the heroic deed...?
Then I remembered that I heard once that people throw up when they get the Heimlich.
So not only would I suffer the indignity of having the maneuver done in order to save my life....I'd more than likely puke on the table or the floor.
Puke in front of people.
I'm still eating grapes.
But I chew each one really well.
And I'd advise you to do the same.
(Disclaimer #1: I really am kidding about my mom's cooking, she makes a wicked New England boiled dinner, awesome Spanish Pork Chops, and the best Chocolate Malt Milkshakes the world has ever known, to name a few. Disclaimer #2: I'm not making fun of choking deaths...I've actually very fearful of one.)
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