Jammie J's Quest

May 19, 2009 · 10:50 pm

Love & Loathe — 05/19/09

Love:

* Spaghetti. Simple, easy, and loaded with carbs. Yum.

* The gardenia tree in my back yard. I wish I could show you how glorious it is, but 3/4 of its beauty comes from the olfactory senses.

* Dermaswim. A lotion that is applied before swimming to guard against chlorine rash. Oddly, all the dermatologists I’ve seen haven’t been able to figure out the incredibly painful rash I get in certain spots where my swimsuit rubs. It’s gotten so bad and inflamed that, at times, it bleeds. Yet, even though I’ve told them I swim a lot, which means that I get a lot of swimsuit rubbing action, and even though they’ve validated my statement with, “that’s where your swimsuit rubs.” They’ve never correctly diagnosed it. I’ve tried steroidal creams, anti-bacterial creams, anti-fungus creams — all to no avail. A couple weeks ago, I found Dermaswim. I apply this lotion before my swim and, like magic, no rash appears. Problem solved. If I forget to apply it, say hello to painful rash.

* Hummingbirds. I love hearing them chirp at each other and watching them perch while they eat.

* Nights like tonight when Snug doesn’t run away like the hounds of hell are on his heels just because someone walks by him when he’s relaxing.

Loathe:
* Current shoes that are in style — I’m already 5’11”. Do I really need heels that are 3 1/2 inches tall? Does anyone who wears a 9 1/2 (or larger) size shoe? If a lady’s feet are that big, chances are she’s either really tall, or has other things going on, and she probably doesn’t need a heel that high.

* How so many people I love and care about are really struggling with various difficulties right now. Emotional, financial and just stuff… and it just always seems that things load up all at once.

One Last Thing:

I’ve been following a few blogs and reading stuff on the ‘net about going pooless. Over the years I’ve tried hundreds of shampoos, literally, and have never been happy with how any of them leave my hair feeling, except one and I can now only find that one on the Internet. Which really bugs me because of the cost of shipping, handling and all that. I wish I could go without shampoo, except I swim every day. Chlorine won’t come out with just a baking soda mix. But I tried it, just to try it… and I hated it. My hair looked fine, but it felt tangled and woolen. Ugh.

And then I read on a long hair forum about how club soda deactivates chlorine. And it cleans hair of dirt. So, I thought, why not? $.79 for a 2 liter bottle of it?

I thought I would hate it. I was prepared to hate it. But I don’t. Today was my second day using club soda in lieu of shampoo and I love it. I am still using a sulfate free conditioner — not ready to give that up yet. But here’s the bonus, the last two days I’ve not had to use detangling spray or hair serum to get through it with a comb.

I’ll keep you updated on how it’s working out for me.

12 Comments

Filed under Hair Can Be a Topic of Conversation, Love/Loathe

May 18, 2009 · 6:43 pm

When He Thinks of Me…

The Scene:

On Sunday, my husband had just arrived home after a day which included church, running errands, working, hanging out with his Little Bro and probably 10 other things I can’t remember.

The Conversation:

Him: Hey sweetie, I have something for you!

Me: You do? What’d’ya have for me?

Him: My Little Bro and I went to Barnes & Noble after the movie…

Me: Uh huh?

Him: And I saw this book and I said, “No way! I have to buy that for my wife!”

Him: *pulls a book out of a bag*

Me: *blink* Oh my word… you’re the best Sweetie ever!

A book entitled “What’s Your Poo Telling You?”

Isn’t that just something?

So, ya know, if your poo has been mystifying you lately, please feel free to ask away…

8 Comments

Filed under Best Husband

May 15, 2009 · 10:22 pm

Story of a Little Boy.

Saturday and Sunday mornings during the summer, I usually get up around 8:30 and go swimming for nearly an hour in one of our community’s pools.

Swimming is my time to think, dream, work through problems. If I can find my rhythm, which I usually do, my body feels like a well-oiled machine as it slips through the water. It feels beautiful. More than that, when I swim outside, I get to enjoy the beauty of the sun as it’s just barely making its way over the tops of the trees that hover around the pool, casting dappled light over half the pool. The birds are out gathering their food or taking sips of water. The air is still crisp, which makes being in the pool seem like a warm sanctuary. Best of all, though, is that normally there aren’t any people. Most people don’t start arriving until around 10 AM.

There is a family who lives up by the big pool in my community, I’ve seen them a few times before. The dad brings a kit for testing chlorine levels and is very militant about checking the levels and announcing to his family of two little boys and his wife whether the water is safe or unsafe. They usually arrive just after 10 AM. If I’m running late, I usually see them there.

I remember a particular Saturday that occurred last September in great detail, because most of this post was originally written, but saved as draft, after that experience.

The younger boy, maybe 4 or 5, ran over to the jacuzzi and went to hop in. His dad was hot on his tail and proceeded to berate the child. Telling him things like, “Dude, you know you don’t go in there! Look at the water! It’s green and yucky. How many times have I told you, when the water’s like that you don’t go in. Look, sheez, it’s only at 85°, that’s disgusting!” The little boy sniffled and walked over to his mom for reassurance.

The older boy did something and the little boy retaliated, just in time for his dad to catch him, but not his brother. His dad hit him in the middle of his back with his fist, a place he couldn’t reach to rub the pain away, causing (I assume) a charlie horse. His little back arched ineffectively to avoid the pain and the little boy started to cry. The dad berated him, yet again, telling him to behave, not to bother his brother. He was sent to time-out on one of the chairs.

At that point, I finished my laps and went over to shower. The mom and older boy got in the pool, the younger boy slowly joined them where laughter and giggles ensued. The dad got in the pool and swam over to his wife, the youngest boy was holding onto his mom. As his dad approached, in excitement, he let go of his mom and swam to meet his dad. Somehow, something happened that his dad popped him with his elbow in his face. I’m not sure what was hit, his nose or his eye, there was no blood, but his hands were covering both and the crying was immediate and loud.

I should note at this point that it was an accident on the dad’s part, at least I hope so, but also, that the little boy’s crying was authentic. It was real tears, from real pain.

The dad immediately responded to his son’s tears by yelling in exasperation, “You can’t just swim up to me when I’m not expecting it! I didn’t see you. Jeez! You’ve got to let a person get situated before you go swimming up to them! I didn’t see you!” There was no apology, no coddling, not even any apparent affection. Just… meanness, excuses and blame placing.

They’d been there less than 5 minutes and I was starting to feel stressed. Beyond that, though, I just felt sad. Going to the pool is supposed to be a fun thing. Something you do during the summer for laughter and relaxation. That poor kid had spent most of his time there crying and in pain and … as best I could tell, he was just being a kid. He hadn’t even done anything wrong to warrant that kind of discipline. Was that even discipline — to hit your kid in the middle of his back and berate him? Worst of all, the tears and pain were caused by his dad, someone who should be protecting and loving him. And what about their mom?

I mean, I received discipline growing up, I certainly got my fair share of spankings and talkings-to. Although truth be told, I was one of those kids who, if you looked at me sideways I was in tears, but still… my point is, I believe I know the difference between discipline and abuse. Personally, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a well placed swat on a child’s behind or firm words… but this was something entirely different.

Watching them, it made me hurt inside. I felt tears welling up and I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. And I’ve asked myself if there were something I should have or could have done? I don’t know… what those kids were experiencing was definitely emotional abuse, but the rest of it wasn’t enough for action to be taken by anyone official because the child wasn’t visibly harmed.

How does one get to the point in their life that they don’t even see the perfection standing in front of them in the form of a beautiful wife and two healthy little boys?

What resurrected the remembrance of this post is that I saw them again last week.

In the eight months since I saw them last, the younger boy has had a growth spurt and is the same size as his older brother. I think he remembered me from last year, because he looked at me sidelong behind his dad’s back and gave me the most beautiful of smiles. Or maybe he just thought I was funny looking. Whatever the cause, I found myself smiling back at him.

The father hasn’t changed, he is still as controlling as he was last year. Yammering on and on non-stop about “you’re being stupid” and “don’t do that” and demeaning stuff like that. But the little one has changed. He’s grown. And there’s also an intangible change that I noticed. He seems more aware of people around him. As if he’s realized there’s a world beyond the controlling person who is his father.

I thought to myself that someday, that little boy is gonna grow up and be bigger than his dad… and someday, I predict that father will have a day of reckoning.

12 Comments

Filed under Life Encompasses Me, Mermaid Envy

May 12, 2009 · 12:52 am

Love & Loathe — 05/12/09

Love:
* Products that actually do what they say they do. After 7 years, the top on my convertible is showing signs of age. I found a small hole, which I patched and there is some cracking. At the recommendation of some people in my Miata club, I bought 303 vinyl cleaner and protector kit. The stuff works. I can see and feel the difference after just one treatment in the flexibility of my top.

* Sweet potato fries. Oh my.

* Capturing pictures, like this one, of the birds who visit my back yard.

* Tony took this picture last August when we were in Hawaii. When I saw it, I was all, “Hey, that woman has really pretty hair!” And then I felt all narcissistic when I realized “that woman” is actually me. Hehe. I am pleased to report that a couple weeks ago, I finally reached my goal of having waist length hair. I know I reached my goal because my hair is now tuckable… meaning, I tuck it into the waistband of my jeans if I’m not paying attention. I can’t wait until it’s buttcrackable! And maybe, if my hair ever gets long enough to hold hands with the Crazy Hair on the back of my knee, I might consider donating some of it to Locks of Love… but not until then!

Loathe:
* I’m presently in what I call “Klutz Phase”. For example, I’m constantly bumping my not-funny bone on things, on Saturday I ran the bottom of the door over the top of my foot, and on Sunday I forgot to put my splash guard/ingredient slide on my mixer. Ouch and oops!

* Being tricked. My acupuncturist gave me some dried salted plums and they were good. I was surprised by that. So when I spotted some in the store today on the “Mexican Food Aisle” (that’s what the sign said), I was excited. Except, apparently, Mexican dried salted plums are different than Chinese dried salted plums. I nearly died from foaming at the mouth before I could evict that nasty thing from my mouth. Yuck.

One Last Thing:
Tony has been watching the History Channel’s new show called Life After People. The show theorizes how cities, landmarks and animals get along without people to maintain and care for them.

It makes me think of my trip back to my childhood home in Oklahoma in 2004, and seeing the massive plant overgrowth on the property that my parents once owned.

Yesterday, when I was leaving work, there was a crow sitting on top of someone’s car, brave and brazen as you please, cawing away at his feathered buddies. The thought ran through my mind that nature will always try to win, and there that car was, probably no more than four hours “after people”… and I was glad he wasn’t on my car trying to poke a hole in the top.

11 Comments

Filed under Life Encompasses Me, Love/Loathe

May 9, 2009 · 11:59 pm

Nurturers.

I believe that life, in all its forms, is a miracle.

My amaryllis finally bloomed…

This year, I’d like to refer you to Tresa’s post. I’ve read her blog for years and years and her post this year for Mother’s Day is, in my opinion, absolutely breathtaking.

Grace’s daughter, Mia, has been sick this week. It’s the only way I could have ever captured a picture of her feet…

My beautiful cat, Tug…

I’d like to say to every woman who has nurtured the life of another, whether it be human, critter or botanical…

Happy Mother’s Day.

8 Comments

Filed under I Blog about Blogging

May 7, 2009 · 7:05 pm

Leftover Obsession.

(Note: Long post ahead, details are necessary… there is obsessiveness involved, after all.)

On Sunday, Tony and I decided to visit PF Chang’s to use the gift card I won a couple weeks ago. My delicacy of choice was their kung pao chicken. Nobody makes kung pao chicken like PF Chang’s. Tony ordered their sweet & sour pork dish. We were both exceedingly happy with our choices and all was right with the world.

Immediately upon receipt of my food, I removed the red peppers and mixed in the brown rice, and divided the dish in half. A bit like surgery, only at the dinner table. I ate half of it and requested a box for the other half. Our server carried out a little stand, took our leftovers and boxed them right there at the table. When we departed, we took our leftovers and went to the movies.

Monday night, things disintegrated a bit. I didn’t have the best of days at work, so I was a little stressed when I got home. A salad and kung pao chicken sounded just about right to me to make things a little better in my world.

Tony grabbed the bag of leftovers out of the fridge and, by weight, determined that his sweet & sour pork was in the lighter box. While I created our salads, complete with avocados and onions, he went about devouring his leftovers with gusto.

A bit later, when I opened my box of leftovers, I was puzzled to see white rice. I asked Tony if there had been another box in the bag. The answer to that was “no.” There were only those two boxes. The one he had emptied and the one I was staring at.

I may have, at that point, thrown a fit of frustration. The fit of frustration may have involved throwing the avocado seed that was left on the counter from when I created the salad. I may have thrown that seed at the trash can with a little more force than necessary to discard it. That seed may have narrowly missed my husband who had opened the trash can to gently discard something. To top it off, the seed may have ricocheted off the trash can (because of the speed at which it was thrown in my alleged fit of frustration) and bounced merrily across the floor. Bounce, bounce, bounce, it went, mocking my kung pao chicken loss.

I don’t think I’ve ever hated an avocado seed more.

I considered just letting it go… the kung pao chicken, I mean, not the avocado seed. That avocado seed was dead to me. Dead! The rational part of my brain (I know, I’m as surprised as you are that there was a rational part left) noted that it was just leftovers and it was a genuine mistake by our server. It’s not like he intentionally decided to add a sucky ending to my sucky day. So, it should have been no big deal. Except I really, really wanted those leftovers. I had been looking forward to them all day.

Tony suggested I call the restaurant, and for a moment I thought that was a good idea. Except, after that moment, I then realized that calling them would accomplish nothing except to let them know that some crazy woman in Orange County was without her leftovers.

And that’s how it came to be that at 8:55 PM on Monday night, I told Tony that I’d be back in an hour, or maybe longer. Because I wasn’t leaving that place without my kung pao chicken.

The drive there was 15 minutes and I needed every second of that, and the time it took to walk from the parking structure to the restaurant, to make myself into a presentable, rational looking person. Because I figured “reasonable” was an adjective that I was giving up in my pursuit of leftover kung pao chicken.

The manager listened attentively to my brief explanation, which was evidenced by the fact that he was completing my sentences. The end of the conversation went something like this, “Man, I’ve had a crappy day and the only thing I wanted for dinner was…” He grinned and said, “Kung pao chicken.” “Yeah…” I said. “Thing is, the disappointment was like… well, expecting kung pao chicken and ending up with white rice.” “Which wasn’t even part of your order.” He noted. “Yeah, I’d ordered brown rice.” I said.

He kindly offered to give me an order of kung pao chicken with brown rice, complimentary. Which was exactly what I wanted. And that’s how it happened that at 10 PM on Monday night, I was back home, removing the red peppers, mixing in the brown rice, dividing the dish in half, and then eating my freshly cooked kung pao chicken.

The thing was, I had gone armed with digital photos, receipts, ticket stubs, and even the box of white rice and I needed none of that. He took me at my word. Or maybe he was just scared of the 6′ tall crazy woman confronting him. Whatever. I’ll just say, it’s customer service such as that which I find impressive in a world where people just don’t seem to care anymore. He listened, he validated, and he resolved.

And I had more leftover kung pao chicken… and all was right with the world, once again.

Don’t you love a story with a happy ending?

9 Comments

Filed under Best Husband, Entertainment can be Expensive, I ♥ My Miata, Weird is Fun, Who I am

May 5, 2009 · 9:42 pm

Love & Loathe — 050509

Love:

* Our Parrotlet. When we brought her home last August, we were told she was approximately three months old. We decided that her birthday should be Cinco de Mayo. So happy one year birthday little Yoda!

* That Monday is over and … bonus, Tuesday is done, too.

* We used my PF Chang’s gift certificate for dinner and saw a movie on Sunday — date nights with my husband rule.

Loathe:

* Headaches. I had one show up yesterday at 4:30 PM, nothing I did made it disappear, so I woke up with it this morning. It left this evening in the middle of my swim, around 7:30 PM.

* Yesterday just kind of sucked donkey balls all the way around.

One Last Thing:

As the crow flies, we’re about one, maybe one and half, miles away from a minimum security prison. I know this because I had to sign papers acknowledging the close proximity to that facility when I purchased my home.

About once a week, usually on Sunday nights, a helicopter circles a 2-3 mile radius around our home. It’s more than just a little annoying, particularly when they decide to thump the heck out of our air space at midnight.

If it’s earlier than that, after about 20 minutes of the thumping, we’ll go out in front of our home and join a few of our neighbors and we all discuss the helicopter above us. The last time we did that, the helicopter in mid-circle, up and left. We figured it was us — we have the power!

A few days ago, Tony said his theory is that every time a helicopter circles it means that someone has escaped from the prison down the road. It is minimum security, after all, he says.

I scoffed in response, because, what, someone escapes once a week, sometimes twice a week? I think not.

He argues that, yes, they plan it for Sundays. After all, he says, people in prison are entitled to practice their religion and so they go to church and then escape. This is what I call his Making Stuff Up to Practice Random Logic.

So riddle me this, why was there a helicopter circling tonight? Tuesday night services?

8 Comments

Filed under Love/Loathe

May 3, 2009 · 1:36 pm

A Story in Photos.

As many of you know, my husband has taken a second job to temporarily assuage our money hump shortage that resulted from his job weirdness last year. Thus, it was not unusual that I arrived home from work one day last week to a house empty and silent from his extroverted noise-making pastimes.

I set my purse and mail down on the table, and proceeded to empty out my lunch bag. Coffee mug and milk jar in the sink, leftover soybeans that I hadn’t eaten into the fridge. I walked over to my desk to turn my computer on, the thing is now over seven years old and a little slower than it used to be. So it takes a little longer to warm up these days.

I rolled up my desk and was startled to see a box. Like “what the heck is this thing shoved in my desk” kind of startled.

Then I realized, it wasn’t just any box… oh no, this was a box from Hawaii with a Hawaiian newspaper. I’ve mentioned before, but I love opening packages where it’s packed with newspaper from another place. I just think that’s so cool to read about what’s going in another part of the world via their newspaper.

I lifted the newspaper packing material and there were three bags of Hawaiian Coconut coffee. He remembered how sad I had been that the Hilo Hattie’s near us had closed, which is where I used buy that coffee. So he ordered it from the Hilo Hattie’s where we had shopped when we were in Hawaii last August for our anniversary. And he had to actually call them because orders can’t be placed online due to their bankruptcy.

This dear man that I’m married to, who is working so hard at two jobs, went to all that trouble because he wanted to thank me for covering some of his chores here at home.

Sometimes I wish there were a way I could tell this man how much it means to me that he never takes me for granted. That he’s always doing little things to let me know how important I am to him. That he is constantly “plugged in” to our relationship.

Sometimes words just aren’t enough, so I just have to hope that he knows already.

10 Comments

Filed under Best Husband

May 1, 2009 · 7:11 pm

End to Endo.

Late Thursday night a couple weeks ago, as is my norm, I was reading blogs. Most people sleep late at night, I read blogs. During that particular reading session, I came across a link to a bioscience company who is conducting a study on women who have been surgically diagnosed with the disease of endometriosis.

One of the single things in my life that has impacted me the most, has been that disease. There has been nothing, absolutely nothing, that has left me feeling more helpless and more like a freak show, than endometriosis. It won’t kill me, but the unpredictable pain, hormonal swings and resulting depression, oftentimes made me wish I were dead.

I don’t say that lightly.

It is one of the few causes I support financially every year. I suppose like anyone who suffers from something for which there is no cure, it has become my passion to support companies who research possible cures. For that reason, I registered around midnight that night with that company to be considered as a participant in their study.

I didn’t expect to ever hear from them.

Imagine my surprise when I discovered a voice mail left by a lady from their company late Friday night, less than 24 hours after I’d registered, requesting a return phone call. Imagine my continued surprise when I returned the call Saturday at noon AND SHE ANSWERED HER PHONE. Instead of introducing myself, I said, “My goodness, but you work a lot of hours!” To which she replied, “I guess you’re calling about the study… yes, the response has been absolutely overwhelming. Hundreds of women are coming forward to try and help. It’s not about compensation, we offer none. It’s about helping the younger generations that have this disease.” I told her that’s exactly why I was calling.

She asked several screening questions and then told me that she’d like to send out a packet, which requests my medical records concerning the diagnosis of and surgery for endometriosis. She said they also request some genealogical information, as they have learned that endometriosis can be passed down through the mother or the father. And, lastly, I would need to provide a sample of my saliva for DNA testing — they are looking for a commonality in all the DNA samples they are collecting. Something that they can eventually screen in DNA so that diagnosis of endometriosis can be made through a simple saliva test, rather than invasive surgery.

How cool would that be? A simple saliva test.

My endometriosis affects my intestinal system, so I spent a lot of time seeing gastroenterologists and having tests performed on my bowels. Today, knowing what the problem is, it’s quite apparent that the doctors spent a whole lot of time looking up the wrong hole.

Did you know that endometriosis has been found in little girls who’ve not even had their first period. Did you know that the average period of time, from the first complaint to actual diagnosis of endometriosis, is 10 years? Did you know that what women hear from their doctors until diagnosis is given, are things like, “it’s normal to have difficult periods”, or “that’s normal for some women, it’s just how you’re made,” or “it’s all stress related, you need to learn how to manage stress.”

I sent my packet off today.

The way I’ve got it figured, either I’ll be a tiny, tiny part (1 of 5,000) in helping future generations of girls and women suffer less, or they’ll be creating a clone of me from my DNA.