Warning: This post contains a possibly long rant.

This morning, My Guy had to drive down to Pittsburgh to see the company doctor and these are my top four ‘maybe’s’ for why he was an asshole this morning:

1. Said work Dr. is the father of the boss?
2. I wasn’t there? 
3. Son complained to father that this is costing the company $$ and to make his employee magically better?
4. His ego is as big as Tom Cruise’s in Top Gun and he’s writing checks his ass can’t cash?

Whatever the reason, I feel that this has been a major conflict of interest from the begining and it was treated as though My Guy pulled a muscle hauling water heaters up stairs. Originally, he prescribed a muscle relaxer and Prednisone pack that were cure-all-miracle-drugs. My Guy would feel 100% better. Because he was strong and healthy. This was without xrays. I don’t know how many times this Dr. has uttered those two words: strong and healthy. Along with the word ‘normal’ when referring to the MRI report. “You have a mild bulging disc, but that’s normal. Just about everyone has a bulging disc.” I ended up walking out after that. And it wasn’t in a pissed off way, I excused myself when I got a text message. Oh, and he backtracked on that today. Told My Guy he never said that this morning.

Raise your hand if you have a bulging disc in your back. :duh:

I’m not a physician, but I know that’s not normal. I know enough to know that a good general–family doctor will refer a patient to a specialist asap when their steriod pack doesn’t work. Instead of saying Physical Therapy and then Xrays. This has been a complete nightmare and absolute cluster :finger:. And because this multi-million dollar company doesn’t offer health insurance to any of their employees, we’re screwed. Apparently it isn’t an issue with WC that their work Dr is also the owners father.

He told My Guy this morning, “I’ve been treating you for eleven days and I  got you in for an MRI, which usually takes two months, I got you in to see an Orthopedic ( tomorrow ) and I was hoping you’d be coming in here this morning telling me that you’re feeling better and ready to go back to work and I could cancel your Orthopedic.” It’s all about the ca-ching. “Football players get injured and they’re usually back to work within two weeks.”

My Guy said, “Then I should’ve become a football player.”

What a wonderful day at my household, today. The kids had a two hour delay and I wanted to get some stuff done today writing wise, but it’ll be rant day here off and on as My Guy chews on these newest insults, if you will. Healthy and strong isn’t helping him get out of bed in the morning when his hips lock up–or maybe it is. But something is definitely wrong in there and someone needs to tell him wth it is.

 

Yeah, this post is going to be all over the place, you might even need a map to follow it.

The original title was, damned if you do, damned if you don’t…but eh…Ever feel that way? I do. A lot. I have a few of these situations happening right now in my life. But whatcha’ gonna’ do? I think my please-everyone-all-the-time-button is busted. But if I may be brutally honest, I kinda like it. It’s not easy tryan’ to please everyone all the freakin’ time. It’s downright exhausting. Besides, I get a lot more writing done without the guilt. :cheer:

So, on the writing front, I got the galleys for THE LAST THING I WANTED and have plunged into them–sure beats the hell out of trying to make sense of this sucknopsis I’m attempting to work on for THE LAST THING I NEEDED. Seriously, I totally hate these things. What I have thus far is, boy meets girl, boy thinks girl is hot, girl thinks boy is a dork…I’m kidding. You don’t really think I’m going to tell you what it says…do you?

 

I survived the party and I think it went really well. I have a lot of hot dogs left over, but the simple punch I made was a hit and Noel was extremely happy that she had most of her friends and family–both extended and real there. I think it made up for the fact that her real father never sent her a card or a present for her 13th birthday. But, that’s his cross to bear.

So, why is it a Garfield Monday?

I didn’t want to get out of bed.

This weekend was pretty exhausting. We did last minute shopping for the party on Friday, ate late and got home even later. Then I was up at the butt crack of dawn to finish cupcakes and load the car. We had to break down the tables at the firehall and rearrange them for her party, then put everything back when it was over. I came home and broke down the Christmas tree, put away the decorations and woke up Sunday and finished it, then I went next door and did the same thing over there. I was almost done.

And then it happened.

I often joke that I’m a dork. My mother calls me Grace most of the time because, well, graceful isn’t something I am. You know how when you’re younger and you do something you can recount it in your head and verbally and it makes sense? And then you hit thirty and your brain shorts out.

I have been up and down Helen’s stairs a lot over the years. I know the steps. I know they narrow about four steps from the bottom. I know this. I do.  Call it exhaustion. Call it dorkiness. Call it what you like, but for some reason my brain shorted out and when I got to the end of the railing, which isn’t the end of the stairs, I turned. What I had in my hands was a big old plastic tote full of Christmas knick knacks that weren’t mine. When I turned I’m pretty sure I said shit as my feet realized there was nothing to step on. Did I let go of the tote? Nope. Not until the very last second.

I fell hard.

I ended up on all fours at the bottom of her stairs, but off to the side. Hearing the crash, my daughter came running. Pain like I’ve never felt before shot through my left leg. I managed to roll onto my butt and the dizziness took over. At the top of the stairs stood my eighty-two year old neighbor. So, even though I wanted to scream, I was afraid for her.

A million thoughts ran through my head as I sat there just knowing I busted my leg. I have chicken legs, so there’s no meat on my shin bone at all. My guy kept asking me if I fell going up the stairs because my shin is bruised. You can see where it bounced off of something as I was going down. Like it would if you fell up the stairs. We’re not sure how I did it, but I did it good.

I’m not broken. I’m just sore. I feel old. I feel like a dork.

Will be interesting to see what Jamie brings me once she reads this–bubble wrap?

Okay, so I really don’t want vallium, per say…

My very busy day started with someone knocking on my door this morning. It was the big boy. I love him. I bore him. But some days, I swear I know why some species eat their young. Instead of saying, “Mom, I pissed around and missed the bus.” I get the extreme- long- train- of -thought- version.

“You’re not going to believe this. I waited, because it’s cold, really, really cold. So, I waited. I walked as fast as I could without running because the wind and cold is making my eyes water. Bad. I got to the end of the road and looked up and do you know what I saw? The bus going up the hill, turning because the light was green. It just keeps coming earlier and earlier, but it was cold, mom.”

“Where’s your sister?” I ask.

“On the bus,” he replies.

:duh:

I was really looking forward to sleeping for another half hour since I have the Sweet 13 Birthday party tomorrow and I still have a lot to do…

…and no, I didn’t eat him…today, anyway….besides, I don’t normally eat breakfast…

It’s so hard to believe that 13 years ago, I brought you into this world.

 

You’re blossoming into a young woman right before my eyes and somedays I can barely stand it ( and it isn’t just because your attitude has outgrown this house ). I promised her I wouldn’t cry (in front of her) and I swore I wouldn’t embarass her too badly. I used to think that perhaps God cursed me in some way by giving me a little girl, because I’ve always said that He must think I’m awful stong to raise a daughter. Now, I know I was very blessed and I admittedly knew it the moment I looked at her little face. She was mine and I was hers and that was the way it was supposed to be. I thank God every day for her. ( My boys too.)

Happy Birthday, Noel-y-belly!

My children have been home for what seems like an eternity and while I admit I loved being able to sleep in, I was ready for them to go back today. I had notes and pictures and character sketches and plot points all laid neatly on the dining room table. I was ready to finish the damn book.

And then the white stuff begain to fall and the wind began to blow and the white stuff continued to fall and we have a two-hour delay. Instead of telling them to be quiet and watch tv, I went from the bed to the couch, wrapped myself into a cocoon and promptly fell back to sleep. This is not what I wanted to do.

My guy cleaned off my car four hours ago and you can’t tell. I guess it could be worse, we could live in New Hampshire. They’re getting a lot more snow than we are. But it’s cold. In the twenties for the highs, cold.

I know, whine, whine, whine.

Here’s wishing you and yours had a very pleasant New Year’s Eve and that you’re not hung over today.

We chose to stay in and my mom and I shared a bottle of wine, then we had champagne. My gall bladder wasn’t appreciative of the mix, then again, it hasn’t been very appreciative of any type of food lately. I’ve been battling this for years and every single test I’ve had has been ‘okay’–and yet food and I don’t seem to get along. I refuse to go through the battery of tests again for them to tell me everything seems fine. Tell it to Mr. Gall Bladder.

Anyhow, I haven’t really thought about any resolutions because I always seem to break them…okay, so I have one. It’s a simple one, really. Write more.

2007, I won’t miss at all. I had the wind knocked from my sails at the begining with the loss of one of the most important people in my life–My Pap. And I can’t tell you or maybe I don’t have to tell you what losing someone who was essentially your dad will do to your head, let alone your creativity.

This week is going to be crazy. eHarlequin.com is launching a brand new board tomorrow and on Thursday, my only daughter will turn 13, followed by her big birthday bash on Saturday. Lord, help me.