Tuesday, March 30, 2010

I Threw Up

It all went smoothly. Other than being dehydrated, which made my head throb and my veins disappear, I was fine. I charmed all of the doctors and nurses in the operating room and they must have been talking about me while I was out because later on, the anesthesiologist asked me questions about Earl Scruggs and Doc Watson. I have no recollection of telling anyone I was from North Carolina. Not that this hillbilly accent of mine ain't obvious... but still. I'm pretty sure I was being discussed. They made me eat half of a corn muffin and drink apple juice. Then they gave me a barf bag for the ride home, even though the ride home is less than ten minutes. It's a good thing, too. Because that apple juice was not my friend.

John has been taking wonderful care of me. Feeding me peanut butter on Ritz crackers and making me cups of strong coffee.

again with the cat videos

Just humor me, awright?

This might be the funniest one yet.

Monday, March 29, 2010

It's 50 degrees and raining. Big, bad, nasty rain, too. Hey barometric pressure! You make my head feel neat-o! Thanks bunches.

I've been up since before six, even though I didn't have to go to work. The rain is loud and my sinuses are rockin'. So, I washed a few dishes and made a peach cobbler and coffee and watched the morning news and gushed over Desiree Fontaine who does the traffic report on Channel 8. I think I might have a crush. While I was doing dishes, they announced on the news that today is Elle Macpherson's 47th birthday and even though I had guessed she was about 45... still. Good Lord. Really? This is exactly why I don't watch television. Because television really knows how to kick you in your fellers.

Sunday, March 28, 2010

They haven't invented a word that describes just how good Robert Cray is.

can y'all tell i'm homesick?

Daddy and Katie at her 18th birthday party. If anybody out there feels like shit and needs a decent ear and a sound voice of reason, just let me know and I'll give you Bob's phone number. That man... that man...

Saturday, March 27, 2010

My mammaw Carrie Scronce and her siblings, Alfred, Vernie and Roy circa 1920. Mammaw is the one in the dark dress. Her sister, my Aunt Vernie, just passed away a few months ago. I believe she was 96.

I cleaned all afternoon. Found pictures I'd forgotten I owned and threw out five bags full of books. Well, not threw out really. They're just in the back of my car. I'll be making a trip to The Book Barn soon so I can rotate my stock.

John and I are both suffering from the sinus rot. He more so than I.

Friday, March 26, 2010

John has an earthquake app on his iphone. It tells you how when and where and the magnitude of earthquakes all over the world. Every day I get to hear that there was a 6.8 in Peru, or a 4.2 in Ireland. Just a few minutes ago he let me know that the most recent earthquake occurred in Lincolnton, GA. Then he asked me if I even knew that there was a Lincolnton, GA. And I sighed and told him that yes, I know about L-town, GA because that's where Mama and Daddy got married. I didn't say "duh", but it was obviously implied. All my life, I've heard these stories. Where and how my parents met, where and why they married. I know the stories and the circumstances and the surroundings. To this day, I beg people to tell me stories. Let me know what your life is like. Tell me a good little yarn. Or even a bad one. John got me thinking though. For the past few weeks I've been struggling with some familial issues. I've found myself slowly sinking into a muddy pit of self-pity.

My parents are old.

Maybe not so much in the numbers area. Because I know lots of spry folk in their late 60's/early 70's. But physically, they're old. Not only do they not get around like they used to, but there are times when they just don't get around at all. Their lives revolve around doctors appointments and trips to the pharmacy. My daddy is still the same sweet daddy. Full of advice and information and love and support. I love him so much it makes me glad in my heart. And I love my mama so much it makes me cry. Because in the past few years, I've watched her slip away. She lives in a percocet laden world of pain. Sometimes she doesn't hear the answer to the question. Sometimes she hears it, but needs to have it repeated. And once more. There are days when I'm sad after talking to her. There are, more often, days when I'm angry after talking to her. Because really, there's no talking. There's only listening. I know that the anger is really just poorly disguised fear. I fear that I've lost her. This woman who was once a force to be reckoned with. Oh, she's still there in bits and pieces. But usually not when I really need her. I think maybe I'm just grieving a little bit. Not full-fledged in your face grief. Just the subtle, sneak up on you in the shower kind.

It can sort of all be summed up with a quote from Meredith Winn : "I am from the stories I heard but never loved until I heard them no more."

Monday, March 22, 2010

I feel like such an adult. Like a real grown-up. In preparation for my surgery, which is only a week away, I've had to call about a million different people and request a million different forms and fax numbers. There's the short term disability folk, and the insurance folk, and the benefits folk and the other insurance folk... but as for this moment, all is as squared away as it can get. Most of the bad crap that's ever happened to me has come as a result of me not being proactive. Which is just a grown-up way of saying, I'm a lazy ass and I'm spoiled and my entire life I've let someone else handle any responsibilities that might've fallen in my lap. I suck that way. But today, I am declaring myself a grown-ass woman.

I don't much care for it.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Tyler Michael

The newest addition to the Ternowchek brood. Five days old with a head full of black hair. He's tiny and lovely.

Friday, March 19, 2010

Smelling Salts

Pardon me while I have a complete breakdown. Been feeling quite dramatic and desperate lately. Between work -which sucks but I'm just glad I have a job- and my impending foot surgery and a couple of altercations with my maternal unit, I'm a stupid mess. Yesterday I went for the pre-op with my GP. He was actually the highlight of the whole week, as he told me, "Yeah. You're a little heavy, but your cholesterol and blood pressure are excellent and your blood sugar is fine and you're only 33 so I'm not doing any EKG's and I'm not sending you for further blood work. Good luck and Godspeed." Cue exit. I don't know. I'm just feeling all hitchy and disjointed from the uncertainty and the pain.

Happy thoughts: "When Autumn Leaves" is a really good book. I've watched "Fast Times At Ridgemont High" twice this week. If it were on right now... well, if it were on right now, I wouldn't be blogging. I'd be hanging out at the mall with Phoebe Cates.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

The Tattooed Lady

I've been reading "The Tattooed Lady: A History" by Amelia Klem Osterud. It's absolutely fascinating. Plus, if you have a wandering mind and can't be bothered with too many words -like me, lately- it's got lots and lots of pictures so you won't tax your brain. Which reminds me of this book:

"Appalachian Legacy" by Shelby Lee Adams. For Christmas one year, my sister Wendy received a copy of "Appalachian Legacy" and she and I must've oohed and aahed and 'holy shited' over that book for a couple of years. I just looked it up on Amazon and if anyone has an extra $1000 lying around they too can own a copy. Gotdamn!

Monday, March 15, 2010

It's been raining since Friday night. Three straight days of this nonsense. The weather dude said if this were snow instead of rain, we'd have fifty inches by now. I don't even know what the hell that even means.

What I'm reading: "The Anodyne Necklace" by Martha Grimes, which is number three in the Richard Jury series. "When Autumn Leaves" by Amy Foster. Lynn's letting me borrow "When Autumn Leaves" and though I've only read two pages, it has a definite Alice Hoffman vibe.

I need a butt-load of sleep and a long, warm vacation.
In the tradition of keeping it real:

This is what my messy, cluttered corner of the world looks like about 98% of the time. Let this be said, though: I am not a hoarder. I have absolutely no problem throwing things out or giving stuff away or just striking a match to the whole blessed mess. However, I live in a trailer that's roughly the size of a stick of gum. The couch acts as my boudoir because there's simply not enough closet and drawer space in the bedroom. Also, I've always been a slob. I'm like a turtle, my mess will extend to the amount of space I'm allowed. Whatever size shell I've got, that's how big I'll grow. I like pretty things. I like brightly colored, oddly patterned, lovely-ugly things. You just have to look beneath the books and the jeans and the scarves to find them. And I like for my life to be clean. I don't want anything to smell funny or be sticky or nasty. But by god I'll guaran-damn-tee you there are 14 mis-matched socks somewhere in that couch mess. And they're all freshly laundered.

John's corner of the world is ironed and hanging neatly on his side of the closet. His cables and jacks and remote controls are all lined up in ascending order and his toothbrush faces due North at all times. You'd think he was an ex-Marine, as regimented and organized as he is. Actually, he was in court mandated rehab for nearly two years. He says it was a sort of military/prison experience. It left it's mark and served it's purpose. That's for certain.

Oddly enough, of all the things John and I argue over, my messiness is never one of them. I believe he finds it endearing. Plus, I vacuum like three times a day, so he knows enough to just keep his OCD opinions to himself.

Monday, March 8, 2010

yes, ma'am!!!

Darrell Scott wrote my two most favorite popular/modern country songs. "Heartbreak Town" and "It's A Great Day To Be Alive". I'm all about lyrics. For reasons varied and sundry, years ago I used to sit in my car after a hard run at the track and listen to The Chicks version of "Heartbreak Town" and bawl my eyeballs out. I'm sitting here now listening to DS sing it and I've got a sudden case of leaky sockets and drippy pipes.

Thanks to Tonya who inadvertantly, and in a crazy round about way, led me to this video. I'm not positive, and I'd have to check with my wondermous fruit-loopy mama, but I'm pretty close to thinking Tonya might be a long lost Scronce suhster.

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Why can't every day be a bright, sunny, semi-warm Sunday? Only, minus the canker sore and swollen lymph node.

Kendall's seven months old now and over two feet long. She's an amazon chicklet. That's her sleeping in her daddy's arms.

Saturday, March 6, 2010

A Good Day

It all began with a lie. John lying to a friend of his who calls every weekend wanting to take us out to breakfast. Telling him we were going to New Hampshire for the day. And before we even thought about it, we were both showered and dressed and out the door. We ate lunch at Betty's Kitchen. John had the stuffed french toast and I had a veggie stuffed spinach wrap that was smothered in hollandaise. There's really no such thing as too much hollandaise. I'd like to die by drowning in a vat of hollandaise. Afterward I raided the Goodwill and bought eleven books and a Limoges bowl all for $16.

Of course, we finished our trip with the ocean. Driving up Rt.1 through Hampton and Rye. Watching the waves spray over the ocean barrier. Making fun of all of the dog-owners who dress their pets in silly crocheted sweaters.

Friday, March 5, 2010

Since November, John and I have been trying to trap Aggie so that we can get her up to date on her shots and so that we can, once again, attempt to handle her. And since November we've been unable to find anyone with a trap they were willing to part with for a couple of hours. But yesterday was the day. We trapped her, called the vet and, 'cause Dr. Norris is the best wing-nut vet around, we were able to get her all innoculated and vaccinated and right with Jesus.

Aggie lives under the recliner, now. Safe from coyotes and rabid raccoons and horny stray cats and snow and rain. She ain't none too happy about it, but we sure as hell are.

I still think it's incredible that there can be five cats in this tee-niney little trailer and we can go hours and hours and never even see one.