Back From Traveling

This past weekend, Jim and I flew to Fort Lauderdale, Florida. I had never been there, so I was quite excited in looking at the pictures of palm trees, blue skies, and ocean scenes before the trip. We finally arrived after descending through a thunderstorm and experiencing the kind of turbulence that makes me clammy and green. Once Jim took me up in a little two seater airplane, and I can remember the only thing that prevented my throwing up was the picturing of being closed in a gray metal room. I know that's weird, but it was all that halted the ruining of a good blouse. I haven't really needed to conjure up the metal room image since then... that is, until this past weekend. It's not that I'm afraid. It's just that, for some reason, as I get older, I get more and more susceptible to motion sickness. I don't know why that is, and come to think of it, I don't know another person that can be DRIVING the car and be the only one getting car sick. But whatever.

Anyway, I had my focal point on the seat in front of me and was quietly breathing through the nausea when we at last landed in Florida. The weather was just like the pictures, and it was gorgeous. I enjoyed the 85 degree weather while my hair instinctively assumed its Florida frizz position. Keeping in mind that the folks back home had April snowflakes, the frizzy hair was worth it.

While vacationing we had the bright idea to drive down to Key Largo so that we could say we'd been to the Florida Keys. The drive turned out to be MUCH longer than expected. This was partly because of a lot of bathroom stops for so many people, but it was also because we learned that Key Largo has virtually nothing to see. You are basically forced to continue driving on to Key West just so that you can say you didn't waste your day. What makes traveling to Key West by 12-passenger van with a bunch of virtual strangers bearable? Key Deer, of course! Now, I've never been to Key West, but as we were driving along the causeways, I surely did not expect to see "Deer Crossing" signs. Crocodile crossing, sure... but really? Deer?

What are deer doing on the keys (and HOW did they get there) was a real bonding conversation in the vehicle. We laughed about the animals trotting along the seven mile bridge. Surely that's not how it happened. Wikipedia offers a nice picture and reveals that the deer are a tiny version of what we're used to seeing in Missouri. The deer were apparently trapped on the islands after the most recent Ice Age when a glacier melted, causing the sea level to rise.

This explanation seems ordinary and definitely not as funny as the ponderings by van that day. We looked and looked for the elusive little creatures, but I finally lost it when someone in the back whispered, "I bet they have webbed feet."

The Critical Meaning of "Sometimes"

Jack has not been at school all week due to complications from severe seasonal allergies. Anyway, I think we're past the breathing treatments at the Urgent Care facility, but he is still congested. We're giving school a "go" tomorrow, and we'll see what happens.

Last Friday my classroom phone rang, and when I answered it, the school nurse over in Jack's building described his puffy eyes -- I was not especially surprised at this outcome of an outside recess. However, if you've not witnessed this instant springtime eye-puffing with Jack, it's quite a scene. She was audibly relieved that Great Grandma/Pa were able to come and pick him up. I can see why she was nervous. After all, he was clawing at his face.

This morning, while driving to work with Jack in the back, I told him that he was going to go back to school tomorrow. I mentioned that tomorrow was the class "Spring Party" in my best excited Mommy voice. He replied, "Sometimes I don't like parties." At this I was surprised and raised at eyebrow via the rearview. "Whaaat?!? You don't want to go to the party at school tomorrow, Jack?"

Dramatic and exasperated pause...

"Mom, I said sometimes. Sometimes I don't like parties, but tomorrow I want to go. You didn't listen."

Pink Eye is the Pits

I've never had pink eye in my entire childhood life. I've never had pink eye through eight years of being a teacher. I never had pink eye through year one, two, or three of Jack's existence. But now, I've had pink eye, and you can say that again! To be more specific, I've had three bouts of pink eye in the last two months. No one else around me has it at the moment. WHAT is going on?!

Anyway, this is the worst episode yet. Both of my poor little eyes are shrunken and blood red. The kids say, "You look different." Or they say, "Mrs. Hoodenpyle, are you tired?" When I explain the actual cause for my altered appearance, they get this look on their faces... It's the heebie-jeebie look. Yeah, I'm right there with ya, kids. This isn't any fun.

Last night, I must've gotten up five times just to wipe away the eye-gunk. This is disgusting. And it makes for a crotchety feeling on a Monday.

Pickle, The Fat

We have two cats at our house, and wow, is the spectrum of cat personalities well represented in our household! Cookie is small, angry, aggressive, and snooty in such a way that we have to verbally warn visitors to our house to inhibit their natural tendencies to want to pet the animal. On the other hand, Pickle is shy, sweet, and wide. People who've been to our house, even many times, have questioned the existence of this second cat. She plants herself firmly under the bed if someone even thinks about ringing the doorbell.

Anyway, it's this reclusive one that I'll write about today. Recently, we were told by the vet that she had a pretty severe mouth infection. You would've thought that I'd put two and two together here because her breath was knock-you-over bad, but I didn't. Poor thing. Upon examining her mouth, the vet revealed that even her top two canines were wiggly, and they needed to be pulled.

So, we did take her in for the dental work. Having worked in a vet's office during college, I already realized what an ordeal she would be going through. Fully anesthetized, tubed for breathing, and lots and lots of elbow grease to get those filthy teeth in order again. Now, she's come back home, a little less toothy and smelling so much better too. Now, she can sit five feet away and bathe herself in peace... meaning I don't have to throw my sock at her because of the wafting mouth odor that comes my way. She's feeling better.

Here is a bird's eye view of her impressive girth... This because you'll never see her otherwise. She'll be under the bed.

The Frisco Highline Run

Last Saturday, Jim ran in his first 5K of the season. It was a beautiful day, and Jim's parents were able to come and cheer with us. Jack enjoyed the real train whistle that signaled the start of the running. And he very reliably said, "I have to poop" right when Jim was estimated to run across the finish line. We made it out of the bathroom (false alarm) and were back just in time to see Jim come in. He was very pleased with his time of 20 minutes and change. Next, he says his goal will be 10K's for next year. (We'll see... the shin splints plague him.) Nevertheless, "Go Daddy, Go!"

Community Helpers Day

Today was Community Helpers Day at Jack's preschool. Each child dressed as their favorite community helper. Jack's great grandparents gave him their spare stethoscope long ago. I guess when you age you accumulate "spare" equipment around the house appropriate for the checking of vital signs.

Anyway, he has since been obsessed with this contraption and, thus, the action of listening to people's hearts, deep breaths, knees, elbows, foreheads and other places that a "patient" may agree to having be examined.

Community Helpers Day was first mentioned about two weeks ago, and it was no surprise that Jack would not only recognize, but also seize the opportunity to take his stethoscope to school. (Also, this was a perfect opportunity to show up Mom. I'd said no to this request dozens of times already.)

If I do say so myself, he looked quite cute as a doctor.

"Do you have any pictures of Jack with you?"

People are always wanting to see pictures of Jack. And if I don't carry any around, does that make me a bad mother? Hmmm... I just never was fond of those plastic wallet picture flippers that always seem to tear and look ratty. These days, it's just so much easier to zip them off via email. With the purchase of a digital camera, I find a problem. I have scads of digital pictures stored on my computer but strangely enough, few for people to actually touch and hold in their hands. I think many of us have fallen into such habits. A combination of laziness and the ease of push button publishing (ahem... the blog at which you're staring) makes the trip to Wal-Mart even less appealing than it was to start with. Was it ever appealing? Debatable.

On a side note, Jim always teases me about the aforementioned digital camera. There is something instantly gratifying about snapping a picture and then viewing THAT instant. Why wait? The options to save or delete are just so great! Nose looks too big? Trash it, baby. Thumb in the shot? It's gone! Of course, this takes some of the "Christmas morning" sensation away from the film developing process, if you do even bother with that these days. I used to love that feeling of the thick picture package from a One-Hour Photo, hot off the presses. And now, I don't experience that so much. That's kind of sad. Then again, it seems inevitable that out of a handful of pictures, you get about five good ones. And that's plain aggravating. CD song lists are the same way, but that's another day's entry.