This is Weird
On Friday The Child and I went to Trader Joe's for the weekly shopping. I grabbed my purse and it felt too light. My wallet was gone. I knew I'd had it and she'd just seen it when she was frantically digging through my purse to find my cell phone so she could call Radio Disney. So we started searching the car. (We found the wallet...not the point of the story).
I was digging under my car seat and felt a weird prick or sting. I pulled out my hand and the middle finger of my left hand was immediately swollen and stiff...just like when I've been stung by a bee. I didn't think too much of it. The Child scrapped my finger in an effort to remove any potential stinger and then I just walked around the store holding a packet of frozen Dover sole to the ravaged digit.
By the time I went to bed the swelling had started to go down. There was never any fever or nausea of dizziness or other things that signal anaphylaxic shock so all was well.
Saturday morning my finger felt just fine. But it was bruised. Practically the whole finger. No swelling, no pain, I could move it just fine, but it looked like it had been smashed with a hammer. And it's still bruised.
I went on line to check it out...always a dicey proposition because every time you look up anything medical on the interwebs it appears that your condition is not only life threatening but exceedingly rare. I was able to confirm that a) I'm not dying of a mysterious bug bite and 2) bruising is a normal reaction.
But still. It's weird.
Last night The Child was very busy in her room. She's very excited about the fact that Uncle Buck is going to be here in 3 short days and she's beginning the process of making her room comfy for him. After a while she came out, big grin on her face and said, "Mom, you should blog about this".
"What? That you're cleaning your room?"
"No. That I'm making it super nice for Uncle Buck. You know how when Uncle JP was here all he had to look at were a few High School Musical posters and the Cheetah Girls? Poor Uncle JP. Well, Uncle Buck will have Miley and the Jonas Brothers and all kinds of stuff".
Seems she completely decimated the Tiger Beatish magazine I'd purchased for her earlier that day and donned an entire wall with every pop star currently in continuous rotation on aforementioned Radio Disney.
Yeah. Uncle Buck is gonna love that.
The volleyball championship game was on Saturday. The Child actually saw a fair amount of court time, all things considered. In fact, Bad Coach even subbed her in to serve in one game. That has never happened before. Probably her most glorious moments were when she was playing at the net. Twice she managed to get to balls that would have just rolled down the net, bumping them straight up so someone else could spike them. Both times they scored the point. Her serves were spot on, too. She did really well. The team won both their games. Guess that makes them the champions. Again.
I'm super proud of The Child for giving her best effort in every game, plus playing with grace and sportsmanship all season. It wasn't easy, what with Bad Coach being his typical bad self. It's hard to keep plugging when you're not getting any positive feedback or encouragement. But she did it, putting up with the negatives because she loves the game so much. She told me that she definitely wants to play CYO in the spring, even if Bad Coach is "coaching" (and really, we have to put it in air quotes because he's so bad) because she really wants to play in the new gym (which is going to be ready by next month).
I love that kid.
I was digging under my car seat and felt a weird prick or sting. I pulled out my hand and the middle finger of my left hand was immediately swollen and stiff...just like when I've been stung by a bee. I didn't think too much of it. The Child scrapped my finger in an effort to remove any potential stinger and then I just walked around the store holding a packet of frozen Dover sole to the ravaged digit.
By the time I went to bed the swelling had started to go down. There was never any fever or nausea of dizziness or other things that signal anaphylaxic shock so all was well.
Saturday morning my finger felt just fine. But it was bruised. Practically the whole finger. No swelling, no pain, I could move it just fine, but it looked like it had been smashed with a hammer. And it's still bruised.
I went on line to check it out...always a dicey proposition because every time you look up anything medical on the interwebs it appears that your condition is not only life threatening but exceedingly rare. I was able to confirm that a) I'm not dying of a mysterious bug bite and 2) bruising is a normal reaction.
But still. It's weird.
Last night The Child was very busy in her room. She's very excited about the fact that Uncle Buck is going to be here in 3 short days and she's beginning the process of making her room comfy for him. After a while she came out, big grin on her face and said, "Mom, you should blog about this".
"What? That you're cleaning your room?"
"No. That I'm making it super nice for Uncle Buck. You know how when Uncle JP was here all he had to look at were a few High School Musical posters and the Cheetah Girls? Poor Uncle JP. Well, Uncle Buck will have Miley and the Jonas Brothers and all kinds of stuff".
Seems she completely decimated the Tiger Beatish magazine I'd purchased for her earlier that day and donned an entire wall with every pop star currently in continuous rotation on aforementioned Radio Disney.
Yeah. Uncle Buck is gonna love that.
The volleyball championship game was on Saturday. The Child actually saw a fair amount of court time, all things considered. In fact, Bad Coach even subbed her in to serve in one game. That has never happened before. Probably her most glorious moments were when she was playing at the net. Twice she managed to get to balls that would have just rolled down the net, bumping them straight up so someone else could spike them. Both times they scored the point. Her serves were spot on, too. She did really well. The team won both their games. Guess that makes them the champions. Again.
I'm super proud of The Child for giving her best effort in every game, plus playing with grace and sportsmanship all season. It wasn't easy, what with Bad Coach being his typical bad self. It's hard to keep plugging when you're not getting any positive feedback or encouragement. But she did it, putting up with the negatives because she loves the game so much. She told me that she definitely wants to play CYO in the spring, even if Bad Coach is "coaching" (and really, we have to put it in air quotes because he's so bad) because she really wants to play in the new gym (which is going to be ready by next month).
I love that kid.
Labels: smells like teen spirit, that's gotta hurt, volleyball
cobbled together by Moi at 8:43 AM
32 Comments:
woohoo for child
wooohooo for uncle buck
i hope your finger is okay-- did you ever LOOK under the seat again to see what it was that got you?
Hmmm, sorry bout that finger, wonder what was under that seat?! Gloves next time, woman!
Great thing about The Child, I'm glad she had fun, and looked great too.
Darn! Mouse beat me to the post. Been sitting here refreshing the page listening to the Cowsills again waiting for the new post.
Ah, I lay my sword down.
I have no problem with the available wall decor while I was there. I get to tell people that Zac Efron watched me sleep.
Humm, sounds like a spider bite to me.
Don't you love it when the kids actually clean their rooms minus nagging? Of course, on such occasions I generally look outside to see if Satan happens to be rolling by on ice skates...
Mouse and Anne, Look under the seat? Are you kidding me? The last thing I want to know is what is actually under there. Which reminds me...I really should get the car detailed...
JP: Yeah, that was sweet, the way he gazed at you so tenderly, greeting you each morning with those dreamy "I'm so glad you're here" eyes. Good times.
Doralong, "Satan on ice skates"...bwahahahaha!
Awww. That is SO sweet. But Uncle Buck is such a dolt. (He doesn't even know who the Jonas Brothers are). I don't suppose she has a poster of Bill Paxton. . . .
Walking around TJ's with frozen Dover sole on your finger. My god, that's funny. Only you would write something like that.
that poster collage for uncle buck is funny.
maybe you want to contact the writers of House to find out what's wrong with your finger. Oh crap, they're on strike. Uh-oh...
Hey I have an idea! Why don't you put that puffy bruised finger to good use and hit redial. sheesh...
"Can I call you right back?"
A THOUSAND hours later, The Hat continues to stare at the phone...
(cracks up at visual image of Hat staring at a phone for 1000 hours.)
Buck, trust. By the end of the weekend you are going to know EVERYTHING about EVERYBODY on that wall. The Child will see to it.
Monica, damn writer's strike. Now I'm probably going to die and it will be all their fault.
Hat, sorry about that. After I finished the two calls I was fielding simultaneously I had to call the Nurse Hotline to tell them about my weird finger and have the nurse say, in essence, "That's so weird". Sheesh.
JP: I found the image rather amusing myself.
does it itch?
Nope. No itching, no pain, no tenderness, no swelling, no spots before my eyes, no lightheadedness, no sicky feeling, no fever, no red spots, no open wounds, no bumps. Full range of motion, complete feeling in every spot. Although I do now have an unnatural fear of my car.
Also, no numbness, no red spikes climbing up my arm, no spots on my throat, no phlegm, no ringing in the ears, no thirst, no phantom pains, no loss of fingernail, no throbbing, no nothing. Except a blue finger.
Again I say unto you, weird.
Okay so here's the thing - I've been going to Here's the Dish for months and never noticed the link to Here's the Thing - I'm old okay!! So this is where you spend your time.
Very weird the finger thing - sounds like an insect bite of some sort.
So does this mean that Tiger Beat doesn't do Annette stories anymore? Or Fabian (sigh) in a bathing suit? Or why David Cassidy can't find the right girl?
Willym, glad you finally made it over...I was actually wondering about that, LOL!
Funny you should mention about Annette etal; when The Child found the mag yesterday The Spouse was all "Huh? Why get that?" and I was all, "Dude, I read Tiger Beat when I was a teenage girl. It's a requirement" and then I immediately flashed onto all the Bobby Sherman, Davy Jones etc etc stuff I used to pull out and savor. Good times. The names have changed but the Tiger beats on!
Dare I tell her that I've never seen High School Musical?
Not unless you want to watch a marathon on Friday. Actually...
The Tiger beats on???
Tell me it's cocktail thirty.
It's cocktail hour somewhere, Hat.
my boyfriend would love the montage in the child's room. he goes to bed every night when hannah montanna comes on and watched it before he falls asleep....
is that normal for a 34 year old gay man?
Oh, lordy, you HAD to go and mention Bobby Sherman...I thought Here Come the Brides rocked!
Hope the digit is all better by the time the Turkey Day Fest arrives...although if it stays blue, it might be a nice complementary color for the cranberries...
Thmswt, I don't know if it's normal but I think it's sweet. Hannah rocks. Well, she more like pops, although, actually, she can rock...where were we?
Syd: Oh, honey, I'm convinced to this day that part of the reason I chose to go to college in Seattle was because of that show...
I'm the 24th comment??
This is entirely unacceptable.
Tell all those other obscenely clever readers to wait till I get off work before they say all the really cool stuff!
Fine..Now that that's settled...umm..
You guys hear that? You all have to wait until at least 6 pm PST to leave comments or Sling will keep pouting.
Of course, the pouting that will issue forth from Moi if I don't get any comments before at least 6 pm PST could potentially rival the hissy Mr. Shot intends to pitch.
Guess we'll see whose pissiness you fear most.
Ratz!..okay,..I wanna be in the top 30!..The things I do.
Germ freak that I am, I'd be tearing the car apart to figure out what stabbed me. In my car, it could be anything. If it still looks weird tomorrow maybe you oughta see a doc. We can't have your typing impeded.
Top 30. Excellent compromise, Sling. Now we can all be happy.
KA, The Child informs me that she in fact looked under the seat and found nothing. Yeah, 'cuz the bastid what nipped me took a powder. I'd be a lot more worried if there were actual stiffness or other freakiness that impedes typing or other motor function. I'm thinking it's looking more normal today. Or maybe I'm just willing it to look normal.
Mind over matter my friend. It's how I cope with my thighs.
Ha! And that, dear Hat, is why we are friends.
L: Hi! My finger isn't blue and corrupting.
H: Why, hello, my thighs are nice and slender and did you notice my perfectly flat midriff?
L: I certainly did. It's quite superfantastic. Much like my arse, which is so tight you can bounce a quarter off of it.
H: Funny you should mention...I was just noticing the tightness thereof. Not to mention, you aren't the least bit jowly.
L: I know. Amazing what the mind can do, isn't it? Another brandy?
H: Oh, perhaps just a wee dram. We both have at least 50 clients to attend to tomorrow.
L: Too true. We entreprenuers do need our rest.
(snort)
A day late to the party, but how's the finger?
Glad your finger is better, ouch! And kudos for The Child!
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