Michigan Bound

So on the 29th we loaded up and headed out for another long haul to MI. MacGyver and I, Punky and Flintstone, and Sirius and Tonks (Kingsley had to stay home, a friend is checking in on him and the fish) and all our gear in Vivienne - my MazdaSpeed 3 hatchback. For 20 hours or so. Joy.

It really wasn't as bad as it could have been, though. Flintstone was such a good boy. We did a whole lot of the driving overnight, so he slept a lot - though I did spend a lot of time with one arm twisted into the backseat retrieving pacifiers, holding bottles, and just letting him hold my hand. I also spent a lot of time pumping. And a lot of time pumping with one hand while my other hand was in the backseat with him. My left shoulder has become quite flexible this week.

On the 30th, we dropped Punky off with BioB in Indy (well, we dropped her off with BioB's current boyfriend, BioB was at work). How sad is it that the first thing Punky said when we told her she was going to spend New Years with BioB was "ooo! I love that babysitter!" referring to the girl who watches Punky when she's there since BioB spends very little time with her.

The handoff went smoothly. BioB's boyfriend is a nice guy. He told us that BioB wants to move to Oklahoma. He hates the idea. I love it. There's no way in H-E- double hockey sticks that we're going to drive Punky all the way to OK for visitation.

BioB will actually have to provide transportation herself - something she's required to do since she's $13,000.00 in arrears for support, but she has only actually done once in the last 4 years or so.

So I say go to OK and good riddance. She abandoned Punky at 6 months and withdrew from her more and more until she was going 6 to 8 months without contacting us at all. She offered to consent to the adoption. Then, out of nowhere, she suddenly starts acting like she wants to be in Pubky's life again. It may be selfish, but I'm not ok with that. Especially since I think it's all for her boyfriend's sake. When they break up, which they do often, she looses all interest in Punky.

But I try to be reasonable and civil. So we dropped Punky off then skipped up to Lafayette to spend the evening with some friends from when we went to Purdue.

I LOVE Lafayette. It makes me so nostalgic. We had dinner at the restaraunt where MacGyver and I first met, and I caught up with my roommate from Sr year. Oh, the antics she and I pulled.

We crashed at a hotel, had breakfast with another friend who's a successful DJ in the area, and took off for the last 6 hour jump to Michigan. One day, we'll spend a weekend in Laf, go to our old haunts, and see DJ L spin.

What's Wrong with Boo Now: By Association

Okay, this one has been a little delayed in being posted.  I'm still about 5 posts behind where I want to be, but here it is.  If you haven't read any of my What's Wrong With Boo Now? posts in the past, I suggest you go back and check them out in order to get the full hilarity of this string of events.

While we were visiting my family in MI, one of my two bestest friends ever, NotDonna, threw me an awesome baby shower, but since she doesn't live in MI, either, she did it at Boo's house.

At first, Boo insisted that he wasn't going to come because he's male.  "That's so gay," he tells me.  Ahem.  "Boo, first, no it's not; and second, you are gay."  But, nope, he insisted he wasn't coming.  Glitter Fairy, his boyfriend, and a very good friend of mine for many years, would be there, but Boo would not.  Yeah right.

The day before the shower, a group of us, including Boo and Glitter Fairy, went tubing down the Muskegon river, a very fun, four hour trip.  While applying sunscreen, Boo was adamant that everyone put plenty of sunscreen on the tops of their feet as he has had the pleasure of being very burned in that area before.  I got distracted putting it on Punky and somehow completely neglected to do my legs.   An hour into the trip, I realized how pink they were getting, but it was already too late.  I deflated a tube to cover it, but I was already fairly cooked.  Everyone else seemed fine.  Overall, it was a blast.

Boo and Glitter Fairy both work at the same bar I used to work at, and they had to work that night, so they didn't get home until very late.  Either very late that night, or early-ish the next morning, I got a rather frantic call from Boo.

"You can't have the shower here," (in 4 hours).

"Um, excuse me?  We are having the shower there.  If you try to change it, you will give NotDonna a nervous breakdown.  She will kill you."

"Bubbles (Boo's dog – who is a whole string of mishaps in and of herself) had her puppies last night."

"Oh, yay, that's so sweet.  How many?"  I've already had a long angry chat with him about getting that friggin dog fixed.

"Ten!  But she had them all over the livingroom and diningroom.  There is blood and dog placenta juice all over the carpet!  In 10 different spots!"

Ultimately, it was decided that he would use our Mom's industrial steam cleaner to clean the carpets before everyone got there.  When we got to Boo's house, there was a note on the front door: "Please Use Back Door."

They had moved all the couches and chairs into a line, blocking everyone into the kitchen because the carpets were still wet in the rest of the house.  But it actually worked out really well, and the shower was a friggin blast (there are pictures in an earlier post).  AND there were many males there – including Boo - the majority of whom were heterosexual.  Unfortunately, we did have to end it a little early.  In the post below, you will see pictures of why.  If you have a weak stomach, I would suggest not looking.

As it turns out, Glitter Fairy neglected to put sunscreen on the tops of his feet and shins on the tubing trip.  He got a very severe case of sun poisoning, and at the end of the shower, Boo had to take him to Urgent Care.

Alright, so, technically this malady did not strike Boo, but I think it's pretty close.  And the pictures seemed to be in keeping with previous posts.

Don't forget to enter the Birth Pool!

What's Wrong with Boo Now?: Chipmunk

Time for another exciting installment of What's Wrong with Boo Now?  And this will be a very special installment in as much as there isn't anything actually wrong with Boo this week.  Well, nothing new, at least.  If you haven't been keeping up on my plague ridden brother, you should definitely take the time to check out the cascade of misadventures that started it all: That's Not a Spider Bite, and the most recent calamity in the last installment of What's Wrong with Boo Now?

Now that you've had a chance to catch up:

I texted Boo the other day to ask him which middle name he liked better for Pip, Livingston or Cheshire (opinions, anyone?  I'm not sure we're ready to come out of the closet on the first name just yet, but it'll be soon.  There are reasons behind the two unusual middle names we were considering.  Cheshire is pronounced Chesher).

Boo responded, "Livingston.  What do you feed a baby chipmunk?"  With this picture attached:

Then he called me.  "Why," I asked, "do you have a baby chipmunk?  Where did you get it?  Put it back."

He told me he knew that's what I would tell him, and that he and his friend V (that is actually what we call her), found it in her driveway.  They have a bunch of chipmunks living under their deck, so, anticipating my advice, they put the chipmunk under the deck.  An hour or two later, they found it "drowning" in a small pond in V's yard.

So Boo has a new pet.  Because that's what Boo needs in addition to Bubbles, the insane adolescent black lab who chews on beer cans and eat wrapping paper.  (There's another story in the Boo saga – the ultimate reason my 22 year old brother no longer lives with my mom, is because living with Bubbles almost gave her a nervous breakdown).

I told him to call the vet right away and that he'd probably have to get baby rabbit formula, but, I'm emphasized, "Call the vet, or he is going to die."

Boo said he'd call the vet, and stop and get the food on his way to work that night.  And that he had already built "Suds" (to go with Bubbles the dog) a nice big habitat.

Later that night my dad told me that Boo was on his way to the vet with the baby chipmunk.

I didn't hear anything else about it for a couple days until I received a picture of Boo sleeping with baby chipmunk curled up on his cheek.  Very cute.  That kid . . .

What's Wrong with Boo Now?: Burn Notice

First, a warning:  I'm going to put the pictures at the end of this post.  They are gross.  If you have a weak stomach, don't scroll down to them.  Now, onto the tale of Boo's misadventures this week.

You may recall recent mention of my younger brother, Boo in a little post called That's Not a Spider Bite.  If you missed it, you should go back and read it now, not only is it hilarious, but without it you cannot truly understand the humor of this tale.

Some things you should know about my little brother:  His name is Boo.  That is not a pseudonym for this blog, it is the name my mom started calling him when she brought him home from the hospital, a name that the rest of his have always called him.  He is 22 years old.  Some of his friends have finally switched back to calling him by his "real" first name, but to me he will always to be Boo (Uncle Boo to Punky).  He is a manager/bartender at the bar that I cocktail waitressed at many summers throughout undergrad and law school; the bar where MacGyver proposed.  He has atrocious luck.  We all do.  All us "Timothy's" are mishap prone.  For whatever reason.  When I was Boo's age, I went through a really bad streak of horrible luck.  Apparently, it is now his turn.

Every time he calls, there is some new tale of woe.  And this isn't just complaining about life.  This kid has real problems (again, see That's Not a Spider Bite).  Sometimes, I'm horrified and worried about him.  Other times, I can't help but laugh.

He has been suffering some serious financial troubles the last couple months, really, really stressful stuff that he has been busting his butt to fix and make right.  Finally, last week, it reached a resolution.  We all heaved a huge sigh of relief. 

Two days later, I got a picture message from him on my phone.  The picture is in the post below.

"Holy feaking heck," (or words to that effect), I said when I called him.  What the heck did you do?  Oh, wait.  No.  He called me first.  The picture message hadn't loaded yet.  "What are you up to?"  I ask. 

"Oh, I'm at the hospital."  This is where my heart stopped for a minute.  He sounded fine.  Who was hurt?  Mom?  Dad?  Who? 

But, I managed to remain calm and ask "Why?"

"I sort of burned my hand."

"What?  Are you ok?  How did that happen?"

There was enough time for him to assure me that he was ok, minus the fact that he was now going to be facing massive medical bills when he had just gotten out from under the previously mentioned financial trouble, when all hell broke loose on my end.  I told him I'd call him right back, but when I did, he didn't answer.  THEN the picture message came through.  It's in the post below.  Holy effing bovine.  Ouch.

I texted him to ask how in the world he did that (because, look at the picture, he can obviously text back).  But, no response.  I'm pretty sure he was in with the docs at that point.

I then did the obvious thing, and forwarded the picture to half the people I knew, and proceeded to make fun of Boo.  I told him I was going to start a weekly piece on my blog called What's Wrong with Boo Now? 

Later, I got a hold of my mom who told me that he had tripped over a chair while walking around a campfire and landed with his hand deep in the center of the fire.  He actually had to go to two different hospitals to have it treated.  And the vicodin they gave him made him deathly ill.  And he went back to work the next day.  Who wouldn't want to bartend with a burned and mangled hand?

But don't worry, he's duly thankful it's not paralyzed.  Haha.

What's Wrong with Boo: That's NOT a Spider Bite

I was listening to an interesting piece on NPR over lunch that reminded me of two things.  The first is a useful piece of entomological information I think more people should know.  The second is a period in my brother's life that I find just hilarious – even if that does make me sound evil.

First, the PSA*:  If you ever go to the Dr. and are diagnosed with a Brown Recluse bite, get a second opinion.  Brown Recluse bites are the go-to scapegoats for all manner of necrotizing wounds that Dr.'s can't explain.  In reality, Brown Recluse spiders are very rare, and their bites are even more so.  Brown Recluses are NOT common throughout the US.  For instance, they do not live in Michigan, and they do not live in South Carolina.  And in the states where they do live, they are hard to find.  They are called the Brown RECLUSE for a reason.

The professor who was being interviewed on NPR pointed out that there is a list of over 95 causes for wounds commonly mis-attributed to Brow Recluse bites, and one Dr. even called in to say that medical training includes only about ½ hour of information on entomology (bugs), but that diagnosing something without another obvious cause as a Brown Recluse bite is not uncommon.

When in doubt, you can always contact your nearest USDA extension office, who will be more than happy to tell you about the prevalence of different kinds of spiders in your area, and will even identify specimens for you.  Many, many common, harmless brown spiders are mistaken for Brown Recluses, which is probably a contributing factor to the myth of Brown Recluse bites being common.

Second, the story:  Broken Boo.  A few years ago, my little brother went through a really hard time in his life.  And my family, never missing the opportunity to demonstrate our love for each other, still laughs about it today (much the way we still laugh about the time my mom got acid in her eyes at work and had to wear 2 eye patches for a few days – hilarious!).

I was in law school in NY at the time, when I got a call from my brother, who I think was around 20 then.  He tells me he woke up that morning, and his arm didn't work.  His hand was bent into kindof a claw, his wrist was bent down too, and his arm was completely useless.  "What do you think I should do?"  He asks me.  Being the brilliant law student that I am at the time, I advise him to go to the figging Dr.

He goes to the Dr.  He calls me back.  "They think I might've had a stroke."  This is where I try to stay calm and not scare him.   Ahem.  "They think what?"

"They think I might've had a stroke."

"Might have?  Did they do any tests?"

"No.  Should they have?"

"Um, yes."

Ultimately, he goes back to the Dr. a couple of times.  They determine he DID NOT have a stroke (thank Heavens and all that is holy, that would NOT have been funny at all.  I was sooooo worried about him for a few days.  But then we found out it wasn't a stroke and I went back to taunting him).  The Dr.'s can't figure out at all what's wrong with his arm or how to fix it.  I believe they tried steroids and maybe something else, but, ultimately, nothing worked, and he was left with a gimpy, curled up arm.

A few days later, he called me again.  "I think I have mono."

"Why?"

He lists off his symptoms, and, as someone who's had mono twice, it sure as heck sounds like mono to me.  "Do you know anyone else who has mono?"  Yes, a couple of his friends do.  Great.  He's gimpy and he has mono.  I advise him to go to the Dr.  Again.

He calls me back.  Yep, it's mono.  AND strep throat.  And the antibiotics aren't doing much of anything for the strep.  Yay.  Poor kid.  Mono, strep, and, still, a gimpy arm.  (PI really, really hope no one is offended by my horrible use of the work gimpy, but it is the word I used whenever I talked to him, and the word my parents both used to describe is malady, so accurate storytelling mandates that I use that word).

Guess what happens a few days later?

You got it, another call from Boo.  "I have this big painful sore on my shoulder.  What do you think I should do?"  After a battery of questions, including whether this is on the gimpy arm (no, it's not, it's on his "good" arm), I suggest, for the fourth time that month, that he go to the Dr.

And what does he relay back to me from the Dr.?  "It's a Brown Recluse bite."

"No, it isn't,"  I flat out tell him.  I'm starting to think your Dr. is an idiot.  Brown Recluses don't even LIVE in Michigan.  Ugh.  But that's what the Dr. said.  He also said it would heal on its own.  Ugh!  So I called one of my favorite Entomology professors from undergrad.  This guy is awesome.  Literally wrote the book on entomology in the Midwest.  He agrees with me, it is very, very unlikely that Boo has a Brown Recluse bite.  The professor also informs me that it is really common for Dr.'s to say Brown Recluse bite when they just don't know what it is.

Plus, I didn't want Boo to believe he'd been bitten by a spider.  The kid is terrified of spiders (and ants) as it is.  To a very humorous degree.  We wanted SOOO badly to get one of those remote controlled tarantulas to have crawl up to him during our wedding just to get him to scream like a girl in front of all those people.

So I send Boo back to the Dr.  It turns out he has a staph infection (or something of the sort, I don't remember exactly).  He has infected skin on his "good" arm, a gimpy arm, mono, and strep throat.  On the one hand, I felt so bad for him.  On the other hand, it was just all too funny.  My mom made fun of him constantly.

When I got home for MacGyvertmas that year, I found out why.  While the staph, mono, and strep had cleared up, his arm was still screwed up.  It had gotten significantly better, he had use of the arm, he just couldn't move his wrist and hand.  The pictures are in the post below.  Don't forget to look!

Moral of the story:  Don't blame it on the bugs.  Don't always take your Dr.'s word as infallible – especially if that word is "Brown Recluse."  (Ok, so it's two words.  Bite me).

* Not all, maybe not even a majority of this info is actually from the piece on NPR or from the USDA.  I specialized in Entomology in undergrad and have always had a fascination with insects and other arthropods, so much of this is based on my own education and experience, which is still, I assure you, quite credible.  But feel free to look it all up.

These are pictures from when we went to MI for Christmas the year Boo had the messed up arm.  We surprised my mom by setting up and decorating her little Christmas Tree while she was asleep.  Note Boo's gimpy, curled up wrist and hand.  What you won't see in these is how many times I had to stop decorating because I was laughing so hard watching him try to hold things and maneuver his twisted hand.  I'm giggling now just remembering it.

I know.  I'm horrible.  But it's even funnier now, because a couple months later, Boo woke up one morning and his hand was just better.  Poof, no more twisting or paralysis.  And it hasn't happened again since (for about 3 years).  But that kid.  He just has issues.

(Also, please note:  Punky had no idea what we were laughing at.  She knows better than to ever laugh at someone for a physical problem, and she knows it is NOT ok to make fun of anyone - even Uncle Boo - even though Mommy does - a lot.  Let's just hope she doesn't think it's ok to make fun of her new little  brother just based on the interesting relationship I have with mine ;-)

Henry the Wh*re

For the last few weeks, MacGyver and I have been watching The Tudors at night after we put Punky to bed, before we turn in (starting with season 1, which we just finished). I like the show. I’ve always been a fan of historical drama. I love putting human stories (even over-dramatized ones) over the historical facts that have always interested me so much anyway.  MacGyver and I have some fun back-and-forths about what we think of the various characters and their actions.  It's really fun to watch together.

But I’m worried that watching it is having some negative effects on me. Namely, it’s making me really vicious and judgmental. We all know that I have a special place of disgust in my heart reserved for cheaters. BUT I also know better than to constantly rail on about it because I will end up offending people that I don’t actually mean to offend. Because I will come off as some sort of bitter old harpie (did I mention that the only time – that I know of – that I’ve ever been “cheated” on I was a sophomore in HS? I have suspicions about the Evil Ex when I was in my 20s, but the fact that he was trying to kill me sort of overshadowed any other activities on his part). So I need to stop with the ridiculous anti-adultery rants.

But that’s not so easy. Because King Henry VIII was a wh*&^. Because we watch this show every night and debate all sorts of the goings on in the show, but the one thing MacGyver and I agree on is that Henry VIII was a disgusting sl*&. Oh, and that Brandon guy, who was actually screwing some other chick while his wife died. I really hate that guy.

But I’m not going to rant. Because it’s pointless. MacGyver would never cheat. I would never cheat. And, ultimately, that is all that matters. We take our vows seriously, even if other people choose to cheapen and devalue their own.

Oops – almost slipped there ;-)

But I still love The Tudors, even if it gets me a little riled up and judge-y.  So I won't stop watching it (I probably couldn't if I tried).  But I will try to stop ranting.

And you know what else I caught myself watching the other day at lunch (much, much to my chagrin)? Wife Swap. Talk about a show that’ll make you judge-y. I hate that show, but I totally got sucked in the other day while I was working on some documents in my Q room.  But I’m pretty sure that was a one day thing.  Because reality TV makes me feel dirty.  Lol.

I should just go back to watching Xena reruns.  Those have never done me wrong.  I friggin love Xena.

Miniversary Weekend

Or

The Food Nazi Goes on Vacation

Our Miniversary trip to Boston was awesome. We took off fairly early Saturday morning and headed to Boston for the Chocolate Tour. We loaded onto a trolley and rambled around Boston listening to a very interesting history of chocolate and sampling various treats. The chocolate tart thing at the Top of the Hub was amazing. Then there was the all-you-can-eat chocolate buffett at the Langham. Oh. My. Dessert. I cannot exaggerate how much variety and how many different desserts there were. Chocolate soups, candies, tarts, cookies, ice creams, confections of all sorts, even a chocolate pasta bar. My favorite was probably the real custard with strawberries on top. But it’s a tough call. There was so much. We stuffed ourselves to a disgusting degree. But it was just impossible to stop.

I don’t want to hear any gripes about chocolate and caffeine and Pip. I have been assured and reassured by countless sources including my midwives that a little caffeine here and there is ok (I was told up to 200mg , my midwife said 300mg, a day – I never come even CLOSE to that, and I certainly didn’t on Saturday).
After that, we stumbled our over-full bellies over to check in to our room at the Charlesmark. It was really an adorable hotel, though we didn’t spend a whole lot of time there. We spent some quality time recovering from our overindulgence before heading out to roam Boston for a while. It was a beautiful, lovely day, and the area of the city we were in was gorgeous. It really made me miss Brooklyn. It seems I really am a city girl at heart. The Boston Commons, The theatre district, and the Copley Square area were all so great. We wondered around for quite a while. Eventually, we needed to eat something that wasn’t dessert, ha. Even though I knew better, it was a special occasion, so we indulged in a HUGE Italian sausage with sautéed peppers and onions, mustard, and ketchup. It was SOOOOO good. I’m drooling now just thinking about it. It’ll be a LONG time before I let myself eat something that terrible for me again :-(

We also stumbled across the Bull & Finch, the bar that was the inspiration for Cheers. It was cute, and surprisingly not overpriced. So we had to stop in and have a couple drinks (I had an orange juice). Then we headed back to the room to change and off to The Elephant and Castle for a murder mystery dinner theatre (yes, more food – it was a food weekend). The show was funny, the food was good, I had the pasta – the only vegetarian dish they offered, and continued to over-stuff myself.

The walk back was also wonderful. We walked up a beautiful tree-lined greenway with all the trees lit up with white MacGyvertmas lights. Back at the hotel, we wanted to go hang out in the bar because it was a really nice bar and lounge, but we had just spent too many hours waking and eating, and we ended up just taking a shower, cuddling up, and watching documentaries on theTV. Even that was pretty awesome, though.

Complimentary continental breakfast in the morning (something I love in hotels) that lasted until 10, and we didn’t have to check out until NOON! Love the Charlesmark.

We mostly ate fruit because, really, we had had just about enough gorging. Then we took the Boston subway to the boat show. I like the New York subway better. I had so much fun in Boston, and really loved it so much, that I felt the compulsive need to continually point out to myself that New York is better, haha. For instance, the stairs down into the New York subway are spaced better, at a more natural space. Don’t you just hate steps that are too short?

The boat show was boring. I wish there had been a car show instead, but, alas, there wasn’t. So we got back on the Boston subway and wondered around the Boston Commons area some more then ate some delicious burritos at Boloco. Love that place! I haven’t yet decided whether I prefer Boloco or Chipotle. I love them both. Guess I’ll have to figure out which is more environmentally friendly thought they’re both up there.

And finally, we headed home, exhausted and happy. It was a good weekend.

There are some pictures. I’ll try to get them up soon. We’ll see ;-)