Aneke's Coming Out Party!

If you haven't already, go over to a brand new blog by our new friend, Aneke. She's been lurking around the Refocksa girls for several months and finally reached out to me via email. She is awesome! Dawn and I have exchanged MANY emails back and forth (all the way to South Africa!) with her. She is looking forward to being a part of our Refocksa community.

Things You Can Accomplish While Stuck in a Bed for 3 Days and I'm Not Done Yet!

1. You can overhaul the way your child's classroom orders books.

2. You can read at least 1000 pages of well, anything. I read some adult fiction (not mature fiction, Dawg), some non-fiction on the Bronx Zoo, some young adult fiction b/c I ran out of adult fiction, and some old fliers from the school that I found on the floor.

3. You can register to take the Mensa test. You can take as many practice tests as your virus-infected brain can stand.

4. You can shop and shop and shop until you know exactly what to convince your kids to want for Christmas. Then you can write to interested parties with links to all of the items.

5. You can perfect your dream queue on Netflix.

Ready for my favorite?

6. You can be ordained by the Universal Life Church and be completely legal to officiate weddings, funerals and baptisms.

True story - I can absolve you of sin and perform exorcisms, too! Who's first?

What could I possibly get into tomorrow?

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I Can't Remember the Last Time I Watched 3 Movies in One Day, None of Which Featured a Talking Animal

Movie Review of the Day #1:
Notes on a Scandal - Lesbian/Geriatric/Pediophilia Fatal Attraction. If none of that disgusts you, this may be just the flick for you. Cate Blanchett and Judi Dench - I would probably enjoy watching them watch grass grow, so for me it was a win-win. Very dramatic, very creepy. If you're wondering whether to shake off someone in your life that may be a stalker, this one will convince you that yes, IT IS TIME.

Movie Review of the Day #2:
Who is Cletis Tout? - Movie within a Movie. Crime Caper. HILARIOUS! Stars my childhood hearthrob Christian Slater and Mrs. Ellen Degeneres, Portia de Rossi. (Jude! She fires a gun.) Tim Allen plays a hitman - it's funny already, right?

This is the opening dialogue between 2 Mafia Thugs.

Thug 1 - Oh... what's the name of that Burt Reynolds picture with the banjo?

Thug 2 - Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah that one with that retarded kid. He was good, that guy.

Thug 1 - Yeah, he was good. "Deliverance." Coupla nights ago, me and Denise we popped that into the DVD. We're about an hour into this thing and I start thinking to myself "this story ain't very realistic." You're a lonely mountain man. They're destroying your home. They've taken your job. There is no place to set your still. You are angry- they've destroyed everything that validates your manhood. You're confused; your sexuality is in question. You decide you're going to hit for the other side. You want yourself some man meat- I can understand that- but wouldn't you wait for Burt Reynolds to come downriver?

Movie Review of the Day #3:
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind - Brilliant! If I had been on some Nyquil or maybe something a little less legal, it would have been really amazing. Jim Carrey who I normally despise didn't annoy me at all and the always lovely Kate Winslett was all but insane and still fabulous and lovely and all things good. I like that she keeps her weight up. She's a real person.

It would be near impossible to give you a synopsis. Suffice it to say that it is about what happens when you try to forget the most important person in your life. It has the flashback/out-of-chronological-order thing of Pulp Fiction. Just go with it, don't try to figure it out. The end wraps up nicely.

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View from a Jail Cell

Granted, it's a very comfortable jail cell. (When I was a kid in Missisippi, "jail" and "cell" rhymed. They both had 2 syllables.) And when I went for my shower I didn't drop the soap. Good thing since I can't lean over to pick it up. Dawn says my quarantine is even worse than jail because even convicts get to go outside.

So far, my favorite thing about being sequestered is watching Dawn chase me around with the Lysol spray. When I have to leave my cell to go potty, which is pretty often unfortunately, she comes with me and takes mental notes on everything that I touch. When I'm done, she hoses everything down. Then she follows me back to the cell and hoses the doorknob and the doorframe and the lightswitch. When she misses a bathroom break, it's fun to tell her that I licked something and I'm not telling what it is.

While I took my aforementioned shower today, she changed the sheets in my cell. She put on my favorite quilt. It's my favorite mostly because my mother hates it. I got it as a wedding gift and used it in the guest room of our first house. I guess the quality is just really poor or maybe my laundry skills were not quite up to par but the damn thing quickly became ratty and torn. That didn't bother me in the least. To me it looked more quiltish and less Clearance-Bin-at-the-JCPenney which I knew it to be. My mother, though, hated it. Hates it still. I make it a point to put it on her bed whenever she comes. It's soft and cozy and good for being sick in.

She also changed to more comforting pillow cases. Dammit, Rocket, Amy and Laura Lee! There's no need to interrupt, but yes that is the $80 pillow cleverly disguised as a Raggedy Ann heirloom.

I changed into my favorite jams. Obnoxious purple pants and . . .

Except when her greeenst thing is coming out of her . . . well, you know.

If I look up, which kind of hurts since I've got what I think is a 2 by 4 for a spine, I can see Africa.



If I look left, I can see my window and the vines that we let take over our house and the rain chain. See, Ms. Moon?!

If I look to the right, I see this concoction of 7Up and Gatorade that Dawn keeps lovingly bringing to me. Think that color might have anything to do with the greenness I mentioned above?

And here's my forward view. That's a stack of movies I'm to conquer today. Yesterday I read every book in our house that I hadn't read or tried to read before. That came to about 624 pages. No more reading today. Ironically, though, those other stacks are the Scholastic Book Orders for the school. No rest for the weary, I tell ya.

I've been thinking about doorbells today. I'll save it for later, though.

Thanks for your well wishes, friends. If anybody has a kit for a full blood panel just laying around, let us know!




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Reason Number 587 to Take Up Lesbianism

Of the 76 verified Super-Centenarians (people who have lived to be 110 years old) currently living, only 4 are men.

Feminism is the theory; lesbianism is the practice. Ti-Grace Atkinson

Lovers Potatoes

Dawn hates potatoes in any form other than french fries. She said she and her brother would dig them from the ground when they were kids and eat them raw. She says they would sneak down to the cellar in the wintertime in North Dakota and eat them raw from the huge pile they kept down there. Maybe she just got her lifetime quota of potatoes before she turned 10.

Because she never ate them as an adult, she also didn't cook them much. She has linked her life with mine, though and my life requires potatoes. Dawn has fed me so many terrible potatoes in her quest to fill my potato needs. She has finally gotten it just right. They are buttery and garlicy and salty and delicious. She calls them Lovers Potatoes.

She loves me and I know it. I've never been surer of anything else.


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You're Not Sick of Beach Pictures, Are You?

Super Cool Jellyfish

Super Cool Mom

Super Cool William Surfing the Perfect Wave

Faith Diving for Super Cool Shells

Super Cool

Super Cool Chick Thinks She's Super Funny

Super Cool Googles

We Thought This Guy Was Super Cool, Too.

I'm Never Going to Get Tired of These Pictures.

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21 Hours in the Car and I Didn't Shake Anyone or Things that I Like

We do a good bit of traveling around to people's houses. It's always better for us to go to a house that has kids already. Our hosts know what to expect. A random throw-up, toilets left unflushed, 127 questions about nothing. I guess the plethora of dogs warmed in Rocket and G, because neither of them flinched when our crew got out and ran in and explored. Rocket and Amy both spoke to our children like they are real people instead of some mutant breed of alien that only understands monosyllabic words spoken at a deafening volume. We like that.

We like people that like to hang out at home, that don't need constant entertainment, that can sit around and carry on a conversation. We especially like it when they like to sit around a fire. Amy and I built the fire, by the way. Dawn just swooped in at the end and made it look special. It was like the nurse that sits by a laboring woman all day. She turns her, encourages her, keeps her from killing her husband only to have the doctor rush in at the last minute, catch the baby and sign his name to the birth certificate claiming to have been the "birth attendant."

We also like people that cook good food. G had that covered. Burgers, hotdogs, brats, shrimp, crablegs. For real.

We like folks that share our basic outlook on life. Live and let live. Love the lonely and helpless. Laugh. Laugh. Laugh. There was plenty of that. Amy the husband, Ray and his mustache, the welcoming maxi pad, the brother who gets tattoos and applause. What was remarkable about all the hilarity is that it should have been embarrassing in front of people that you've only known for a few hours. But we have known each other for much longer, haven't we?

These girls are just who they are in Blogland. No alter egos. No smoke blowing. No bullshit. What you see is what you get. And it is all awesome. You'll never meet a bigger heart than Amy's. You'll never meet a purer soul than Rocket's.

And you all know how I adore Dawn, but I have to go on and on. I can't help myself. I love to watch her in a group of people. She has a calming nature, made more incredible considering her ADD. People like her. She asks good questions and cares enough about the answer to listen, but not enough to judge or second-guess. She's funny. Magnetic. And she looks at me and sees me and likes me the most. And I like that.

Amy, my dear husband - the kids are planning your move to Florida. They can be very persuasive. It's probably better to cease resisting. You play Legos and you're good at it, according to Storm. That's high praise.

Rocket/Lightning/Roxanne - the kids want to come back when it snows. Got a sled? And Storm wants to see your tattoos. He said he didn't notice. (!?!)

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Rainy Morning

I always think of this song when it rains.

I didn't see that coming . . .

Remember how I stole my Mom's car? That was a month ago. I still had it up until last night at about 10:00. That's when my mother knocked on my front door, totally unannounced. She had her loyal houseman Juan with her. They were here for the car.

She was dressed to the nines, very chipper and acting as though nothing is wrong between us. At some point she threatened to spank me. I don't know what that's about.

They drank a glass of water and headed out, bound for Jackson, MS which is about 4.5 hours away. Dawn and I got in bed. About 20 minutes later, another knock on the door. She was back. She had lost Juan who was driving the rental car that still had her purse and cell phone in it. She couldn't remember his cell phone number. Dawn had to go handle that one. I was close to combustion.

Dawn called her this morning. She said they made it back at about 4 a.m. No idea what took them so long.

What the Fuck!?

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Windows

Let me preface all of this by saying that I grew up with 2 doctors. Grown-ups always said dumb stuff like, "Well, I guess you'll be a doctor someday, too, huh?" No. Absolutely not. The hours suck. The stress is outrageous. The ego-trip is unbearable. Nope. Negative. Not for me.

I was also jaded by sometimes painful, sometimes careless experiences and a one time near deadly one. My birth experiences were less than mother-centered. In short, I have a less than cozy relationship with Western Medicine. And still I was a little skeptical about iridology.

But Curious swore by it. She wouldn't shut up about Dr. Hill. Her kid has had near constant ear infections since birth. He's had surgery after surgery and finally experinced hearing loss. He's 9. She took him to Dr. Hill who has a Ph.D. in Alternative Medicine. He practices at a desk in a Health Food Store in a little country suburb of Pensacola. He has cured Curious's son. For the first time in his life he doesn't have fluid in his ears and has just passed a hearing test with perfect hearing. Wow. OK. I'll try it.

Since I don't have health insurance and haven't been to a doctor in almost 3 years, I figured a healer was as good as I was going to get anyway. What the hell.

To say that I am astounded, sold, in love with Dr. Hill is a total understatement. He is a miracle worker and an angel on Earth. BECCA LOVES IRIDOLOGY.

It went like this. I got there and sat next to him at his little desk. He asked me nothing. NOTHING. He looked in my eyes using a magnifying glass and a pen light. He "mapped" my eyes out on a chart. This took about 15 minutes or so.

SPOILER ALERT: If you don't want to hear about my medical history, stop reading now.

He sat back, looked at the chart and said, "Tell me about the trouble with your breasts." OK. I was diagnosed with Juvenile Papilomitosis when I was a teen-ager. That's just a fancy word for fibrous masses that come and go with your menstrual cycle. He said that he could see several small ones in my left and 1 big one in my right. And that is correct, ladies and gentlemen.

Then he said, "What happened to your right hip?" I was quickly becoming a believer. Well, after carrying 2 very large babies in my relatively small body, my hip comes out of joint on a regular basis. He asked me how much pain this caused me. I kind of shrugged, as if to say whatever or not enough to slow me down.

And then he said a phrase that will stick with me for quite a while. He looked me right in my eyes and said in a very sincere and calming voice, "Pain is pretty relative for you, though, isn't it?" I knew by the way he looked at me and the way that he said it that he knew. He knew about my tallest mountain. My greatest obstacle. My Herculean task. I started crying and he handed me a Kleenex.

He said, "Were you hit with a baseball bat or a car?" I kind of laughed. He said, "It had to be something like that. It's the worst back injury I've ever seen in anyone that can still walk." So I told him. When I was 15, I fell down a flight of stairs. I did one flip and then bounced all the way down on my butt. He said, "Is that how you broke your tailbone?" I told him that I had never broken my tailbone. Dr. Hill smiled and said, "Yes, you did. And now you have a bone spur where it healed improperly. That bone spur has rubbed away the coating on your sciatic nerve. It's exposed now." And that all makes sense. Why the pregnancies were excrutiating at times. Why sitting for any length of time or standing for any length of time is very uncomfortable. Why sleep comes only in spurts.

He got out anatomical charts and showed me exactly what is broken, for lack of a better word. He explained why I hurt where I hurt. He spoke to me in English and not the medical jargon mumbo jumbo bullshit that I've been hearing for 15 years. He hugged me, cried with me, and took my face in his hands and promised to help me.

I came home with a bag full of vitamins, herbs and supplements. Dawn helped me organize and label everything when I got here. I'm ecstatic. Naysayers, keep your mouths shut. I don't want to hear it. This is the only ray of hope I've had in at least 6 years. I promise to keep you updated. And I promise to hear you out if I don't get better or God forbid, I get worse.

Send good vibes my way, Friends. Hope. After walking around in near constant pain for 15 years, Hope feels really good.

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