The Demon Curl

So I have not blogged in a month, and the last time I blogged, my husband was in the hospital. I blogged from his hospital room because we live in that in-the-moment live-as-it-is-happening world. And then I didn't blog for a month for a variety of reasons. But rather than bore you with details of why I have ignored you for a month, I will sum it all up with one word:

Vomiting

There was vomiting involved and therefore I did not blog. Now aren't you glad I'm not including details?

Warning: that does not preclude me from including details at a later date. I'm just not going to do it today.

I have lots to tell you about the state of my husband's health, but I'm not going to blog about that today either.

Big important stuff has happened in our family, but I don't really feel like talking about that either. So instead I'm going to blog about my hair.

I certainly have my priorities in order.

Every so often I get in this grow-my-hair-out mood. Apparently I also occasionally fall into the string-all-my-words-together-with-hyphens mood as well. At any rate, everyone knows that when you are growing your hair out, you have to go through the growing out stage where your hair has no discernable style, and you pretend to deal with it by incorporating various hair accessories such as scrunchies, clips (or in my case) combs and headbands. You push and hold all this extra hair in place until it grows to the length you want it to be. Then you can have a normal hairstyle again that doesn't involve sticking something plastic into your tresses each day.

Can I just say, I'm never very good at the growing out stage. I know I'm impatient, but in my defense, my hair has a mind of its own. I never wear hats because my hair literally grabs any headcovering I attempt, and throws it off my head. Seriously. It's happened more than once. So when I start using combs and headbands, I'm trying to push down and conceal rogue hair strands that want to strike out on their own. Inevitably, I get tired of rogue hair long before I achieve the length I want, and I end up getting my hair cut again.

This time around I went without getting my hair cut since September. Can I just say, that's a lot of wild hair. Someone advised me that, instead of getting it cut, I should have it thinned because then it would be easier to control. That made sense to me so I had someone thin my hair with a razor.

I ended up with rogue hair that had no back up. Just wispy, long curls and trendils that stuck up in every direction. And it wasn't in that wildly sexy, uninhibited way that curly hair is in the movies and on TV. It was just nasty bristle-brush wild.

I finally gave in yesterday and went and got it cut. While at the salon, I got a text from my hair-thinner, who is not a professional stylist. She couldn't believe I was giving in when I had worked for so long to grow it out. She continued to fuss until I got home and showed her the results of a moderate trimming. Then even she agreed that it looked much better.

As I detailed how much I hated when my hair stuck out in every direction, she contradicted me and said it never did that. Except for the demon curl.

The demon curl?

"Yeah," she said. "Sometimes you run your hands through your hair and then you have a curl in the very front that stands straight up and points at people you're talking to."

And she was just now mentioning this to me?

At any rate, the demon curl is no more. And I think I'm over trying to grow my hair out for a while.

I also think I'm not going to listen to her hair advice anymore.

Now wasn't that more interesting than talking about vomiting?

Full Speed Ahead

So since I took most of the month of December off from blogging, I should have a lot to say. I thought about doing a recap of our Christmas, but that's old news now, isn't it? And anyway, I can probably sum it up with one word:

Wonderful

It wasn't perfect. For some reason, Matt and Kylee felt they needed to travel up to spend the holidays with her folks. I agreed to let them go because I had no choice I'm unselfish like that. After all, I insisted on having them here last year, so it was only fair.

On the plus side, our daughter was home for Christmas for the first time in four years. That definitely made the holidays wonderful!

I also thought I could celebrate my return to blogland and my first post of the new year by writing something profound.

I got nothing.

So instead I decided to write my first post of 2012 from the emergency room. Because nothing says Happy New Year like taking your spouse to the hospital in the middle of the night because he woke up with chest pains.

Yes, I'm blogging from his examining room. Don't judge me. It's helping me stay awake.

I am not a calloused woman. I waited until we we sure he was out of immediate danger before I started blogging. They're not sure what the problem is, but all his tests look good so they're pretty sure it's not his heart. Probably. No one really likes to say for sure because people in the medical profession hate to be wrong.

I will say this--if you've ever had to sit for hours in an emergency waiting room, try telling them you have chest pains. They move pretty quickly for that.

So no heart attack, but his blood pressure is quite high. He has a tendency towards that. And it just got higher when they came in to draw blood. Because he has a fear of needles like that.

Can't imagine what's causing Indiana stress. Couldn't be the six kids-- they're always good as gold. Except when they aren't. But we're getting even. We snuck off to the emergency room during the night. Won't they be surprised when they wake up.

Won't we be surprised if they're all still asleep by the time we get home!

Might be Indiana's job is causing him stress, but I can't see why. Everyone knows that being a pastor is not stressful. They only work on Sundays, don't they?

Sorry. I tend to get a little sarcastic and cranky when I've had less than four hours of sleep.

Right now I'm cranky because we're sitting here killing time. Once all the initial tests were done and they discovered we were in no immediate danger, they've left us alone. if we weren't directly across from the nurses' station, I might try to take a nap. Guess that's first on my to do list when we get out of here.

So Happy New year. Hope 2012 is all you want it to be.

We're starting it out with a bang.

Dittle My Finger

In the last group of Hodgepodge questions, I commented that "dittle" was my word for the day. Several people asked questions about the word in the comments, so I'm answering them here.

My daughter-in-law accidentally coined the word dittle when she meant to say ditto, and it came out wrong. Then she said that was her new word. It's an all-purpose word that can be used in any part if speech. It makes a great exclamation word:

"We went Christmas shopping today."
"Dittle! What'd you get me?"

It can also be used as a noun:

"If you're good you might get a dittle."

It's not technically a substitution for profanity, but feel free to use it that way if you must.

It can also be used as a verb:

"I really dittled my finger."

That last sentence was because of a mishap in the kitchen last week. My family, used to gourmet cooking as they are, requested hotdogs and canned chili for dinner one night. Being extremely competent with a can opener, I opened up the can of chili, bent the lid back out of the way and scrapped the contents into a pot.

Apparently that particular can was possessed because the lid suddenly developed a mind of its own. It bent forward and took a bite (a deep bite) out of my finger.

I don't usually have pictures, but I went all out for you here. Aren't you proud of me?

It's deeper and more painful than it looks. It's also my index finger (one of the most important, I would think) and it's on my left hand. I'm left-handed.

My family was relieved to know that I didn't get any blood in the chili.

I did get blood everywhere else. I knew it needed stitches, but I wasn't about to spend the next four hours sitting in an emergency room. No bandaid was up to the job, so we bandaged it with multiple paper towels folded down to size and taped around my finger.

I soaked through two of those makeshift bandages that evening. I finally stopped bleeding by morning, but anytime I bent my finger, the waterfall of gushing blood began again. That made it difficult to shower and dress for work, but I managed. I was quite proud of my ability to cope until it came time to put gel in my hair. Pressing the dispenser on the bottle started the bleeding up again. Since I didn't want streaks of blood in my hair, I was stuck.

This is where Indiana came to the rescue. I debated all other options, but finally I asked him if he would help me. I pumped gel into his hands, and he immediately assumed an expression of high-end stylist snobbery as he lightly worked his fingers through my hair.

His technique was so good it disturbed me.

Although he was a good sport about helping with my hair and even putting my earrings in, I knew better than to press my luck. By the next day I'd perfected my own finger-less strategies and was able to do without an assistant. 

A doctor friend took a look at my finger and agreed that yes, I should have had stitches, and no, it didn't look infected in spite of the swelling. She did point out that if I continued to bend my finger the wound would continue to break open. She suggested either using a splint or taping two fingers together so that it would stay straight and heal.

She did not tell me how to type or play the piano while in a splint. This could get interesting.

So there you have it. I dittled my finger and am going about my normal life, plus all my Christmas-related duties, with diminished capacity. My poor, swollen digit sticks straight up most of the time in a vain attempt to heal.

I guess I should be glad it's not my middle finger. Then I probably wouldn't need a dittle to express my opinion.

Reindeer, Humbug and Hodgepodge

For whatever reason, my computer does not like the Hodgepodge button today. So I don't have the picture, but you can still click here and see Joyce and her weekly Hodgepodge questions. And since you're there anyway, why not answer them? You know if you had something better to do you wouldn't be wandering around the internet anyway. That's why I'm here, after all.

1. Will you be hosting any house guests between now and the end of December? Does that thought make you happy or crazy? Do you do anything special for your guests to make them feel at home? How long should a house guest stay?
We have long hosted multiple Christmas parties at our house. This year, for a variety of reasons that I won't go into, our house was not a good idea for any parties. My husband agreed with me and promised me that we wouldn't have to host our Sunday School Christmas party at our house this year.

The party is on the 17th. It's at our house.

To answer the second part of the question, a guest should leave just a couple of minutes before the host thinks they should leave.

2. Walter Elias Disney was born this week (December 5) back in 1905 ...what's your all time favorite Disney movie? Here's a list in case you're struggling...and yes, you have to pick one.
I know there are tons, and I like many of them, but when I think of Disney, I think of the classic cartoons. And my favorite is Cinderella. Come on, the dress ... the shoes ... the prince ... the horse-drawn carriage (pumpkin) ... what's not to love?

3. What was the last thing you purchased that you realized was a mistake after the fact?

Pick a craft book. Any craft book. I know I can't do them. I know I'll never tackle most ideas in the book, let alone actually complete them. And the ones that are completed I would never show anyone. Yet still, occasionally, I can't help myself. I call it my Compulsion To Be Martha Stewart syndrome. It's under control at the moment, but the medication has some interesting side effects.

4. What percentage of your Christmas shopping is done online?

Really, Joyce? A math question? 30%? 50%? X=5? To the nth power?

5. Amaryllis-snowdrop-poinsettia...your favorite winter blossom?

Poinsettias say Christmas. Well, not really. At least, they shouldn't. My flowers don't talk to me. Mostly because I refuse to water them and bring them to the brink of death repeatedly before shoving them over the precipice. But still, the fake ones look like Christmas.

6. What is one thing on your personal Christmas wish list? I think we all want peace on earth so let's make this answer an actual item.

An ipad, of course. And a clean house. But I doubt I'm getting either of them.

7. If you could only use one word today what would it be?

Dittle. My daughter-in-law came up with that word the other day and now she uses it in almost every situation. It makes us laugh.

8. Insert your own random thought here.
I was stunned when one of my children said recently that they knew I always asked for a clean house because we didn't have any money for anything else. Seriously? They thought that was the reason?

Obviously I'm not communicating very well.

The Thankful Hodgepodge

Oh, thank goodness! It's the Hodgepodge! After reading my answers and leaving a comment (kind of like kissing the cook), head on over to Joyce's where you can see what everyone else is offering up. Take a sampling from here and there and soon you'll find yourself stuffed with laughter, memories and good times. Come on, you didn't really want to start your Thanksgiving cooking yet anyway, did you? I didn't think so!

1. Let's start with something controversial...dressing or stuffing? What's it called at your house and what's included in your recipe...cornbread? oysters? sausage? chestnuts?

It's called Stovetop at our house!

2. Who do you sometimes compare yourself to?

Anybody who seems to be doing just a little worse than I am. 

3. When were you last inside an airport?

In March I traveled to Huntsville to visit a friend who's like a sister. At the last minute, I upgraded to business class for an extra $50. I may never fly again because I don't think I could ever go back to coach. I can't. I won't.

4. What is one side dish that absolutely must be included in a turkey dinner?

I think the only side dish I would actually want in the turkey would be stuffing. It may all go to the same place, but I don't want the turkey eating my mashed potatoes before I do.

5. What Christmas song do you dread hearing?

Christmas Shoes. It's not really about Christmas, it's not happy or joyful, and the lyrics seem deliberately designed to try and drive listeners to tears. I very much prefer something like, I Want A Hippopotamus for Christmas.

6. If someone approaches you and asks for money do you give it to them? Do you drop money 'in a tin cup' that belongs to a person on the street? Do you have a specific charity you support during the holiday season and/or year round?

I've tried saying "no" when asked for money, but somehow my kids get it out of me anyway.

7. Share a favorite Thanksgiving memory. If you live in a country that doesn't celebrate Thanksgiving share a favorite memory associated with food.

When we lived in Uganda, we had to travel a long way and pay a lot of money to get a very small turkey for Thanksgiving. It was worth it. We had as traditional a dinner as I could make, and then we watched a recorded version of the Super Bowl from the previous year. We'd never seen that particular game, and it was a great one. It didn't matter how old it was. It helped make it more Thanksgiving-y.

8. Insert your own random thought here.
I've never yet seen a Black Friday deal so fantastic that I thought it was worth getting out of bed in the wee hours of the morning, or standing outside in line all of Thanksgiving night. 

Pie to the Power of Pumpkin

There's something very wrong about referring to a Thanksgiving dessert in math terms, but since I've spent so much time lately helping one child with algebra II and another child with pre-algebra, and a third child with algebra I ... well, you can see why I've started speaking math phrases.

Thankfully, though, (did you like that segue there?), this post is not about math. It's about pie. We're not really pie people in our family. Probably because I'm not much of a pie chef. If I'm going to bake, I'd rather be doing cookies or cakes.

There is one time of year, however, when pies are an absolute necessity. And that would be at Thanksgiving. We always have pumpkin pie and chocolate pie as part of our Thanksgiving Day dessert. I usually also make some third choice because having the same thing every year can get monotonous. (This year my daughter-in-law is bringing that third choice. Yea!) Even when I branch out, though, I get complaints if the requisite pumpkin and chocolate pie choices aren't part of the equation.

Sorry. Slipped a little math back in.

At any rate, I'm not all about the pie crust. I've made them from scratch before--I've made pretty good crusts from scratch, if I do say so myself. But when I eat pie, I'm not admiring the flaky crust. I want the filling. And the whipped topping. That's the reason for pie as far as I'm concerned. I've done enough "from scratch" that I don't feel the need to prove my abilities every year. So most years I go with a ready-made pie crust.

I've also made the pie fillings from scratch. In fact, one year I actually cut up and canned a pumpkin, and then used that to make my pumpkin pie. I mean, you can't get anymore homemade than that! But since the kitchen is not my favorite room in the house, most years I settle for Libby's canned pumpkin pie filling. My family likes it too, so why mess with what works?

As for chocolate, jello pie/pudding mix works for me. And my family actually prefers the taste to a homemade chocolate pie. (maybe they just prefer the taste to my homemade chocolate pie, but that's another blog post.) The important thing is, I'm pleasing my family and getting off easy at the same time.

It just makes no sense to me to spend all that time on homemade efforts that aren't worth the trouble, at least as far as my family's tastebuds are concerned. I've got to spend all my effort on the stuffing and mashed potatoes (both from scratch, thank you very much). Plus the dozen other sides that go with a traditional Boyd Thanksgiving Dinner.

Now Christmas dessert? That's a whole 'nother story. We're probably having Cheesecake Factory cheesecake.

Hey, we don't mess with tradition.

P.S. What about you? Does the dessert make the meal, and will the family forgive you if you don't slave over every aspect of it yourself?

Paraprosdokian Anyone?

No, it's not a seasoning--even though it sounds like one. Paraprosdokian is defined as "figure of speech in which the latter part of a sentence or phrase is surprising or unexpected; frequently used in a humorous situation." "Where there's a will, I want to be in it," is an example of paraprosdokian. I think a couple of these listed here would go well on a t-shirt. What do you think?


Learn from the mistakes of others. You will not live long enough to make all of them yourself.


Do not argue with an idiot. He will drag you down to his level and beat you with experience.

The last thing I want to do is hurt you. But it's still on my list.


Light travels faster than sound. This is why some people appear bright until you hear them speak.


If I agreed with you, we'd both be wrong.


We never really grow up, we only learn how to act in public.


War does not determine who is right---only who is left.


Knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit. Wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad.


Evening news is where they begin with 'Good evening,' and then proceed to tell you why it isn't.


To steal ideas from one person is plagiarism. To steal from many is research.


A bus station is where a bus stops. A train station is where a train stops. On my desk, I have a work station.


I thought I wanted a career. Turns out I just wanted paychecks.


Whenever I fill out an application, in the part that says, 'In case of emergency, notify:' I put 'DOCTOR.'


I didn't say it was your fault, I said I was blaming you.


Women will never be equal to men until they can walk down the street with a bald head and a beer gut, and still think they are sexy.


Behind every successful man is his woman. Behind the fall of a successful man is usually another woman.


A clear conscience is the sign of a fuzzy memory.


You do not need a parachute to skydive. You only need a parachute to skydive twice.


Money can't buy happiness, but it sure makes misery easier to live with.


There's a fine line between cuddling and holding someone down so they can't get away.


 I used to be indecisive. Now I'm not so sure.


You're never too old to learn something stupid.


To be sure of hitting the target, shoot first and call whatever you hit the target.


Change is inevitable, except from a vending machine.


Going to church doesn't make you Christian any more than standing in a garage makes you a car.

Nostalgia isn't what it used to be.