Handsfree phone

Handsfree phone

Do NOT Touch my Bacon

I cooked some bacon this evening, and after I realized that my HUSBAND had taken some of it, it reminded me of an incident from my childhood. My dad was a colonel in the Air Force, and that involved a lot of social commitments, as well as the "whole risking your life" stuff. As we got older, my sister and I were home quite a bit, by ourselves. I'm thinking I was like 12? 13? years old, and my sister was three years younger, when THE INCIDENT occured.

On that occasion, I had also cooked bacon, and as she casually walked through the kitchen, she took a piece. SHE.TOOK.A.PIECE. I was filled with a murderous rage, I didn't even know existed within me. Immediately, realizing her "crime", she took off running, with me in hot pursuit. My mom had all these fancy schmancy, knick-knacky things all over the place, and some BIG brass candlesticks. Like five feet tall. They had big candles on them, and there was a tray, halfway down, where she had bunches of fake grapes displayed.

I hit my sister, with a flying tackle, that sent us both into one of those candlesticks, which drove it into the wall......leaving about a half inch "divet" in the sheetrock. Well, then, I went into damage control mode, wherein I alternately begged her not to "tell" or threatened further bodily harm, if she did. (This technique NEVER worked with my sister. Some people are born tattlers, and she be one. No matter what she promised, she cracked under the slightest pressure.) So, I finally got her to agree not to tell, then went to work on the wall. Somewhere, I had seen, or heard someone talk about using toothpaste, as a sort of caulking substitute, but we only had the gel kind. It wasn't like colored gel, but the consistency wasn't as paste-y, as I would've liked. So, I carefully filled the hole, re-positioned the candle, and put those dang grapes back in their tray.

My heart was pounding, when I heard my parent's car pull in the driveway, but I felt pretty confident that I had covered my tracks. My mom walked in, no lie, and said "what happened?". At that, my sister dissolved into tears, and spilled the beans about the whole story. I don't even remember what punishment I got.....probably grounded (that happened on a regular basis.......the grounding business, I mean. It might surprise you to know that I haven't always made the best decisions).

Other sibling stories, will necessitate an entire blog entry, but for now, it's all about the bacon. Several years ago, waiting for my mom to get out surgery, my dad, Scott (the aformentioned HUSBAND), and I were having breakfast in the hospital cafeteria. I was facing the part of the cafe where the cashier/server was working, and I'm ashamed to say she witnessed this event. Scott, sitting across from me, reached over and took a piece of bacon off my plate. The "witness" says that I got a look on my face, like "NO YOU DI'INT", (but times 100), and she started cracking up. She was the only one laughing, though, because I actually think that was the first time, my husband saw the "bacon face", and he drew back in fear.

This is what made it all the more puzzling that he would, tonight, think that it was a good idea to touch my bacon. AND, he tried to be sneaky about it, too, ......he just broke off the ends of a couple of pieces, and then plastered on his face, what he thought was "innocence". It didn't work. I KNOW my bacon, and I knew it had been altered.

I have some deal breaker issues for my relationships, and I'll just give you the top three:
1. Don't lie to me.
2. Don't cheat on me.
3. Don't touch my bacon.

Not necessarily in that order.

I Just Wanted to Take a Bath!

This past summer, we moved to a different home, which meant that now we only have two bathrooms, and unfortunately, the lone tub is situated in the "Sam/Guest" bathroom. This means that I rarely take a bath in there, because I KNOW that when he "cleans" it? A 12 year old boy? Well, it's probably not that clean. So, the other day, my husband went in there, and thoroughly cleaned it, so I knew that I had to jump at this narrow window of opportunity.

We went for a walk this afternoon, then out for sushi (that'll be another blog entry), and as we walk in the house, I remember "Hey, the bathtub is clean", so hurriedly go to the master bathroom to collect my bath items. I get into the other bathroom, and after about 3 minutes, figure out how to actually get the tub filling, then go back to retrieve a towel. Sam is standing in the hallway, outside the bathroom, with a weird look on his face. "What's wrong?", I say.
He replies "I have to poop".
Me: "So, poop. In the other bathroom".
Sam: "I don't want to".
Me: "Well, I don't want you to poop in HERE, right before I'm trying to take a bath"
Sam: "I don't want to go in your bathroom"
Me: "It's just a toilet. What difference does it make? You need to just GO in there, because I'm not gonna be able to RELAX, if I know you're out here WAITING TO POOP!"

At this point, my husband, enters the house, oblivious to this entire exchange, and I yell "SCOTT. MAKE SAM POOP!"
Scott: "Huh?"
Me: "He needs to poop, but doesn't want to go in our bathroom".
Scott (totally matter of factly) sighs, and says "Sam, just grab the plunger, and go on in there".

Feeling the matter to be resolved, I head back into the tub-filling bathroom. Then, knocking on the bathroom door.
Me: "What?"
Sam: "jdie kefoie dkiieo brumph"
Me: "What?!"
Sam: "DKIE EKHDH DJEHH BLAH BLAH BLAH"
Me: "SAM, I CANNOT HEAR YOU OVER THE FILLING TUB!"

So, I put my robe back on, open the door, and he says:
"Just so you know, sometimes you might think the door is locked, but it's not really, so just wanted to tell you that".
Me: "Were you going to try to come in here while I'm taking a bath?"
Sam "EW! NO!"
Me: "Okay, then. We're good. Thanks for the info".

By then, the tub is overfilling, and I'm kinda panicking (not being familiar with it, and all), and somehow, the shower head is partially on, so I'm getting sprayed all over my hair and robe. I FINALLY get it turned off, and get into the bath. Well, now, I just want this to be over.

I get out, gather my things, and head back to my room. Sam sees me, and follows me into our room.
Me: "Did you poop?"
Sam: "No. It went away. Why is your robe all wet?"

A Typical Evening with the Laytons

So, I come home from work (early shift today), and ask Scott & Sam, to go "on a walk" with me. They both agree. It goes pretty well, except for the nonstop trail deviations, onto the muddy shoulder (Sam, not Scott). Plus, when you're going uphill, and a kid is literally running circles around you, no breathlessness at all, it's kinda annoying.

So, we get done, and naturally(?) think "we want sushi", and head for our local sushi place. We order, and the waiter says "Wow....that's a lot of food". Okaaay. We're about to spend a fair amount of cash in here, and you just basically called us pigs.

The first platter comes, and it's the stupid sashimi that my husband insists on getting everytime (not a big fan). So, we all stare at the beautiful display (most of which will NOT be eaten), and await the arrival of our other food. Meanwhile, we begin to prepare our lil dishes of soy sauce w/wasabi. We remind Sam "you want to mix those well", but you know, we're ADULTS, and he's 12, so he's WAY smarter than us, so he just sticks a glob of wasabi......naked, un-soy-sauced, roll-less wasabi IN HIS MOUTH. Well, we missed the initial entry, but it soon became apparent that he was either having some sort of seizure, or his abdominal aorta just ruptured, because he starts writhing around in his seat, head down, sucking down Sprite like there's no tomorrow.

Because we're quick like that, we deduce from the scene, what has occured, but he's not talking. I'm not exactly sure WHAT he was doing, but it involved aforementioned writhing AND, possibly, weeping. So, like any good parent, I grab my iPhone & start taking pictures.(see "choking on a cupcake" on youtube for another example of my parenting skills).

At this point, unbeknownst to him, since his back was to the door, an ambulance has pulled in, and parked outside the sushi place. At some point of this little episode, I believe his head spun (think Linda Blair), and he glimpses the medic unit. "Wha?, he sputters, "why are THEY here". "I called them", I said. "I know you THINK I was taking pictures, but REALLY, I was summoning assistance for my ailing child." At this, he just rolls his eyes.

Sam finally settles down, and we move on to consume the ENTIRE, literal boat-load of sushi (we'll show that waiter guy!). He comes over and says "Now what, guys". I said "I just want to go to bed". The waiter chuckles, but Sam looks mortified and says "Can I have the car keys, please. I'll wait outside". Since I'm sure he would enjoy it, I went with him, and leave "dad" to pay the bill.

I get in the passenger side, and he's (trying) to get in the rear passenger door, and this huge black Mercedes just comes wheeling in, and poor Sam has to retreat, because this guy wasn't stopping. Turns out, it's an old guy (REALLY old), and his wife, and possibly his great-great-great grandchildren? (They were young). He throws open his door and it slams right into the side of our car. He walks to the front of our vehicle, seemingly unaware that I'm SITTING RIGHT THERE, and proceeds to closely exam the FRONT of our car. I guess when he saw my dangling fog light, and residual Bambi damage, he assumed "Welp, THESE people aren't going to be concerned by a door ding", and proceeds into restaurant.

You're probably wondering "Cherie, did you say anything?" No, I did not. Why? I was so freaking full of sushi, that just putting on the seatbelt almost caused an upchuck, so there was NO WAY that I could muster up the fortitude to enter into a confrontation, with an old, yet sprightly appearing, dude. So, when SCOTT gets to the car, we tell him what happened, and he goes to inspect, and says "Eh". Not sure exactly what THAT meant, but assumed no damage.

On the way home, (having seen a classmate with his "other" parents at the restaurant), we discussed how kids of divorced parents usually alternate spending time with each parent, and commented on the fact that Sam has never had to do that. "Your parents are still married", I said, and so "unfortunately we don't have that 'built-in break', when the kid goes off to the other parents". In retrospect, I could've chosen my words more carefully, but I figured he's not listening anyway.

He says "Really, Mom? Did you say unfortunately? Wow." (so, okay he WAS listening).

It's not my fault; I come from a long line of suboptimal parenting......I mean.....not BAD parenting......just the parenting style, wherein the children are there for your entertainment (and to empty the dishwasher). I cannot even BEGIN to tell you the things my dad did to torture us over the years (actually, I can....and I will, in another blog). And before anyone gets their knickers in a twist, Sam KNOWS that we are just teasing, and he gives as good as he gets, so I don't want to be seeing CPS on my caller ID. Just sayin...

Hands Free Navigation

On the surface, this sounds like an awesome gadget. You speak, and your vehicle responds appropriately. Except, when it doesn't. Honestly, I gave up a long time ago, trying to learn all the exact phrases I am supposed to use, e.g. "Fan speed up" is the preferred command, rather than "MAKE IT FREAKING COOLER!". So, you know, stuff like that.

However, because it's the LAW, I am forced to utilize the hands free phone system. and believe you me, we've nearly come to blows a time, or two, or eighty-five. Here's how it's SUPPOSED to work: you set up your phone list by speaking the name and the number, and the system "remembers" it, so all you have to do is flick the little switch on the steering wheel and say "Dial" (or "call"....you can say either. Isn't that user friendly?) whoever you want to call.It's supposed to recognize what you're saying. The following, is an example of how this goes:

Me: "Dial Scott"

Evil Vehicle: "Star. Continue to add numbers, or return to previous menu"

Me: "Call Scott" (changing it up a bit...maybe E.V. will understand that)

E.V. "Star. Continue to add numbers, or return to previous menu"

Me: "DIAL SCOTT!!!!!!"

E.V. "Pardon?"

Me: "CALL SCOTT!!!

E.V. "Do you wish to call (pause for drama) Mom & Dad?"

Me: "Did I SAY I want to call Mom & Dad?! No, I did NOT. I said CALL SCOTT!"

E.V. "Pardon?"

Me: "ARGHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

On numerous occasions, Sam was in the vehicle. We've had it since he was five. Early on, when I was still trying to work the handsfree navigation and/or the phone thing, he'd pipe up from the backseat, "Mommy? Are you mad at the car, or the phone?"

NOW, he just thinks it's hilarious, and dissolves into giggles everytime the system doesn't understand what I'm saying. When I get REALLY frustrated,(but still able to think clearly), I realize that, just perhaps, the TONE of my voice is throwing off the system. I mean, when I input the original names and numbers, I wasn't yelling them, so I purposely take a big breath, and very calmly, very sweetly, say "Dial Scott", to which it either responds "Star" or "Pardon".

By then, I don't WANT to call Scott anymore, heck, I don't even remember who Scott IS anymore.

A Quickie

So, just in CASE, somebody actually looks at this, I know I've been remiss in posting. It's not that I don't have material......believe me, I do. However, one of the problems with all this new technology, and having a spouse that is your "friend", and your "follower", and whatever the heck else it's called, is that he can SEE everything I post. See? He's even gonna SEE this!

My point is, that a LOT of the comments, "stati"(is that even a word?), or tweets, are kept bottled up inside me, because, well, I DO want to stay married. So, if you ARE interested in reading a new blog, I'm working on editing my thoughts, and hopefully, one will emerge soon.

Cherie & Scott go to Mayo

My husband, Scott, and I, recently traveled to Rochester, Minnesota, to the Mayo Clinic, for me to have heart surgery. It was a very interesting trip, so I DID take some notes while we were there, (at least, up until the time I was unconscious.) I just had a feeling that our trip might make for a good blog entry.

First of all, it was COLD, which is a big DUH, considering it was the dead of winter. Our flight was delayed, and we arrived at about 3:30 a.m. the morning that I needed to be at the clinic by 7:30 a.m., so we were pretty much zombies, that whole first day.

For those of you who don't know, Scott is very much a "chatter". He'll talk to anyone and everyone, and he ALWAYS seems to know people wherever we go, and he talks FOREVER. It shouldn't have been surprising, then, that he ran into a guy at the Sacramento airport, and had a nice long talk. That would've been fine, but the guy was on our flight, too, and ended up at the airport in Minneapolis/St.Paul, so he had to talk to him again, then. I was okay with that.....didn't really bother me. However, the next day, when we were at the Mayo Clinic, out of the corner of my eye, I swore I thought I saw him waving at somebody, and I seriously, almost knocked him down. Lucky for him, he was just scratching his head.

So, we made it to Mayo, and I spent the next several days being tortured with tests, but aside from that, we did have some fun, people watching, and walking around in the subways and skyways (you would never have to go outside, if you didn't want to). We ate in a couple of restaurants, and overall, the waiters/waitresses were very nice, but the first afternoon, not so much. This waitress seemed annoyed that we actually came to eat something, then REALLY annoyed that we drank the water in the juice-size glass she had given us. Um, I'm sorry. Is this NOT the land of 10,000 lakes?

Now, the fun really began. Got to have surgery. I will never forget the "angel" R.N. who took care of me that first night in ICU. She was right by my side, the whole night, and seemed to anticipate every (multiple) need. She also happened to look just like one of my friends from Placerville (shout out to Becky Bowman), and that made me feel even better :).

Funny thing.......evidently, most people wouldn't normally choose to have surgery during the Christmas holiday, so the place was kinda empty. It was just me, and about 14 other patients, on my floor, and they were all OLD. Okay, I take that back.....there were maybe two other patients who were under the age of 70, and I felt this weird obligation to acknowledge them, as we passed in the hallways. (You know, like Harley riders do that little subtle hand wave, as they pass another rider?)

The first day that I was moved out of Intensive Care, two doctors (the electrophysiologists),came into my room, to talk about the next procedure I would be having. Now, granted, I was heavily medicated, but the one guy sounded just like Elmer Fudd. No lie. This was confirmed by Scott. The Dr was very nice, and came to see me EVERY day, but it was painful. I kept praying he wouldn't have to use any words with the letter "R" in them. Fortunately, he was just a "fellow", and ended his rotation on the day I actually had my EP study and ablation, which was a relief, cuz I really couldn't get past the voice, and would not have been surprised AT ALL, if he had shown up in a red hunter's cap.

For you "30 Rock" fans, there was also a Dr who came in my room, and got on the computer at my bedside, and started peppering the nurse with all kinds of questions about "me". He looked and sounded JUST LIKE Dr. Spaceman. And to top it off, the questions he was asking didn't make any sense, and the nurse finally told him "You have the wrong patient up on the screen". He mumbled something, and quickly exited the room. Luckily, I never saw him again.

When you're in the hospital, you hear things that, out of context, sound very odd and inappropriate. I'm going to list some of the things we heard:
What they said:
1. "Do you have a preference where you want it?
2. "Is it flopping around as much?"
3. "Sorry, it slipped out"
4. "You have a nice annulus"
4.b "You have a gorgeous arch"


What they were referring to:
1. Where did I want my new I.V. line.
2. Did the line in my neck feel more stable.
3. Guy doing ultrasound "lost his place", while scanning my heart.
4. Referring to the structure that supports my mitral valve (during my cardiac ultrasound)
4.b Referring to my aortic arch (also, during my cardiac ultrasound)

(It should be noted that the last two comments were made by my Mayo cardiologist, who said them in complete seriousness. Being the immature person that I am, it took everything I had, to stifle my giggling).

Having open heart surgery was both horrifying, and amazing. It's so incredible that they can do what they do!

I have to say, that there's no way that I could've gotten through all of it without my husband. He was amazing. He saw, heard, and smelled things, that no one should, and yet, he never seemed (openly) repulsed and/or disgusted. He was always right there, and acted like there's nowhere else he'd rather be (okay, that may be a slight exaggeration, but you get the gist). It's possible that I may have been a little difficult/emotional/impatient/irritable/annoyed, but he, as always, exhibited kindness and patience (yes, I put this in writing), and I hope he knows how much I appreciate it.

The trip home went smoothly, and aside from a few minor complications, I am on the mend. Scott DOES claim that, the first night home, I insisted that he go "get the nurse" to tell her my heart was "beating funny", but I'm not sure that actually happened. I DID dream of a toddler in a red sequin dress who spoke like Thurston Howell III, but pretty sure that was medication induced.

While it's not something I would ever CHOOSE to go through again, Scott and I, were both, overwhelmed with all the love and support we received, from friends and family throughout this whole experience. Now, I'm looking forward to a full recovery, no more shortness of breath, and loads of energy. If you thought I was annoying before......just wait!