I eat cows like I’m paid to do it now.

July 4, 2011

Hello again friends! The last time I wrote a post, I could see my toes without effort! I assure you, all is well in the Squishy home, however this period of time known now as “The time during which I became fat and lightheaded” has been peppered with good times galore. Allow me to tell you it.

So, apparently, Squishybaby lurves him some meat, and I, prior to Squishybaby’s existence was not such a meat lover. However, right about 18 weeks was  right about when I had to fight the urge to gnaw on cows when passing them grazing in fields. It was alarming at first- Was I cast in the final Twilight Saga movie unbeknownst to myself and was simply getting into character??? What happened to my “not so much” attitude when it came to meat-especially of the red variety? However, I had to have it. Thus began my love affair with Carl’s Jr cheeseburgers(did you know when you order a regular cheeseburger at Carl’s Jr. they call it a “Big Cheeseburger” and ask you- did you mean the BIG CHEESEBURGER??To which you must embarrassingly admit, yes I WANT THE BIG CHEESEBURGER.) Anyway, that lasted about a month and then I moved on to In and Out drive thru shananigans. UMMM did you also know that, when you go through the drive thru they ask you “Will you eat this in the car?”

Now. I’m already not proud that I’m going through the fast food drive thru at all, mmmk? But now you’re asking me to admit that yes, I will be eating this in the car, and yes, I will be chasing that random french fry that fell down between the seats at the next stoplight, and yes, I will be trying to remain calm when I see that I have already eaten all of the straggler fries at the bottom of the bag. YES I WILL BE EATING IT IN THE CAR. RUB MAH BELLY IF YOU WANT, IT’S ALL FOR THE BAYYBEEE. HE NEEDS THE MEAT!!!!!!

Also, apparently, he needs the iron. He needs the iron so badly, that umm sometimes, he knocks me out to get it. No joke. Apparently I’m what they call I pass out in the heat and scare the bejeezus out of people anemic, and this causes me to become not so conscious feeling at times. It is not pretty. Nor is it fun. Squishybaby does NOT fool around when he wants his meaty iron, and therefore, I am now doing what it takes to get it to him. SO, keep yer cows inside folks, I make no promises.

View from the top these days.

Flingo Was Her Name-O

May 15, 2010

I cannot believe I’m posting this now, considering what I’m posting about just happened. Like…3 hours ago just happened. Yall. I did it again. And not in the Britney “oops” way either. I dislocated my knee more than I’ve ever dislocated my knee before. At the bingo booth. At the school carnival. In front of many students and colleagues. And how…you might ask? HOW? I was sitting. I was trying to sit on a cafeteria bench, and I slung my leg over to sit…and well, my knee made the familiar trek to the side of my leg, and it stayed there. I screamed, and then said a four letter word audibly that I’ve been assured no child heard. I also did my famous rock back and forth move, all the while noting that my knee.would.not.return.to.its.home.at.the.front.of.my.leg. So I bet you can guess what I did next, right? I SHOVED MY OWN KNEE CAP BACK INTO PLACE WITH MY OWN HAND. I’ve heard others say they’ve done this. My physical therapist has done this herself. And yet, I never really appreciated the shock and awe of having to do it yourself and knowing that you’ll do ANYTHING to stop the pain of,well, your bones being out of their homes. Then came the tears. How professional right? So there I am crying with my back to the students, while another teacher rushes to me and goes “OMG ARE YOU OK!?!?!”and then realizes, that no, I am not, and I may not be for a bit, so she then turns around and yells B 35!!! BEEEEEEEEE THIRTY FIIIIIIIIIVE…Because hello, these people came to the carnival for BINGO and BINGO they shall have.  Which I totally understand because we were giving out cakes as prizes, and when cake is at stake, THE SHOW MUST GO ON. So this is kind of funny to me now, that in my tears and pain and general writhing and nashing of teethness, I was hearing letters and numbers being screamed out in a panic to keep the staring to a minimum.  “Never mind that teacher over there…she’s just SO excited about the BINGO that she must rock back and forth to let it out and cry those tears of joy. BINGO’s emotional for her…whatever you do, DON’T SING THE SONG! SHE’LL LOSE IT COMPLETELY!!”

So yeah. I’ve called the doctor and he said that for people like me, the whole shoving it back in thing is not so unheard of…and that I’ll probably feel fine tomorrow if I’m already walking around on it and climbing the stairs…Which I am, so it doesn’t get too stiff. I’m hoping tomorrow isn’t horrific pain and full of “oh no I’ve done it NOW-ness.”  If you feel so inclined to pray for my noodle knee, I’d appreciate it.

Also, this time I was not so much a drugged flamingo, but I envision it was much more of a crippled camel  look I had going on, in case you were interested.

Also- I’m afraid I’ll forever hate BINGO. Oh well. Retirement home living is going to suck for me. Maybe I’ll be in a wheel chair then and won’t shudder everytime they call B-35. One can dream big, right?


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