Oh It's You!   Of Course . . .

Well, it's the last day of school.  My final chance to get my house in order before the kids are home to destroy it.  My last chance, for two months, to see clean floors and rooms that don't look like the after-earth of a post apocalyptic Nerf war. Last chance to vacuum before the floors are so covered in dirty clothes we forget what the carpets look like.  Last chance to pee in a toilet without having to disinfect it first. Moms of boys, you know what I'm talkin' about.

I prepared for this day, like any other day of hard house cleaning.  I rolled out of bed, pulled on a pair of ratty, paint splattered sweatpants and my big, baggy, "May the Forest Be With You" T-shirt.  Once Marianas Trench was blasting from the stereo I was ready to begin.  Boom!  Kitchen clean.  Boom! Vacuuming done.  Bathroom clean, Bed made.  I was on a roll!  Yeah!!!!  I was a not so lean, cleaning machine! Nothing was gonna stop me!!!!!!

 . . . Until I got that e-mail.

Doesn't it just always happen that way?  Turns out, I was needed to deliver something to the kids school.  Well heck.  Fine, ok.  It would give me a chance to say goodbye and thank you to my favorite teachers.  But, I had to ask my self, "Self, are you really gonna do you hair and makeup and change your clothes just to drive one minute, (literally), to the school"?  Was I really busy? Yes.  Do I give a shit what anyone thinks of me? No today.  Have I shown up at the school looking worse?  Probably.  Fuck it.  I decided to go as was.

In my defense I have shown up at school plenty of times looking great.  It's always a little alarming when you show up somewhere looking good and everyone does a double take and says, "oh my!  Your looking nice today!".  Makes me wonder how bad I look the rest of the time.  Well, now I know.

But this story isn't about the school, or about my little side jaunt to Timmies to get a grilled cheese pannini with tomato and bacon.  No, this story is about when I came home.

As I turned the corner onto my street I saw a sight that made my stomach almost expel said pannini. A truck, with the logo for Spetic Supply Co. on the door.  It was parked up the street near the mailboxes.  Must be hear for someone else, I told myself.  Surely not in the neighborhood for me.  It can't be spring maintenance time!!  It's June!

I drove down the street and turned in my driveway and watched as the truck cruised by checking out addresses.  Yes!  He drove by.  Whew!  I got out of my car and started up to the front door when I heard something behind me.  Oh shit.  He was backing in!!!  Nooooooooooooooo!

Side note:  for those of you who do not know why I might find this upsetting, please refer to blog articles, "The Great Septic System Debacle, Parts 1 & 2".

And of course, who should pop his handsome face out of the truck, as I stand there in my stained, baggy cleaning clothes, with my hair all efed up, squinting into to sun, holding a huge purse and a Tims cup, but Sexy Septic Steve.  Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuudge.

He looked up at me and smiled.  "I'm here for your spring maintenance".

"Of course you are", I said, "because I look like hell, and that is always when you show up".  I really did say this.  I'm sorry, but I'm starting to wonder if he doesn't just love catching unsuspecting ladies at their worst, just for giggles.  He looked down at his sexy as hell, blue collar workman's trousers and said, "Well, I'm not looking that great either".  Wait.  Does that mean he agrees with me??  Dammit!

You know what?  I'm gonna let that one slide.  Ya know why?  Because I just looked at the Service Call Record where Steve checks off everything he has to look at to complete the maintenance properly.  Beside checking off the boxes for inspecting the aerator and the controls, he also checked off,  "Effluent Checked"(Ew!), "Effluent Quality", (it felt good to me?), and "Squirt Height", (not sure how he measured that!?).  Bahahahahahahahahaahahahaha!  Remember that next time your complaining about your job!

Well, until Fall Maintenance, peace out peeps!

Michy

We've Had Visitors!

Spring is still springing around our house.  There are so many cool things to see and hear and smell!  I swear, it just smells better out in the country.  You know, aside from manure spreading season.  First my crab apple tree was perfuming the air, now it's the lilacs.  It's lovely.  Things are blooming everywhere.

We have also had some visitors:

This little lovely has been hanging around for a couple weeks.  I think it's burrow is in a stand of trees out on the front lawn.  We haven't had as many bunnies this year as we did last year when they were breeding like, well, rabbits!  I think I'll name it, "Bunny".

This lovely Luna Month made an appearance!  You can see by the regular sized month beside it, just how big it was!  I think it was a female.  She hung out for the whole day and flew off sometime in the night.  Apparently sightings are pretty rare because they only live for about a week! 

I think I'll name her, "Mothy"

This unwanted guest also made an appearance.  Why was she unwanted?  Because she is a huge ass spider and is therefore terrifying.  Her body was the size of the end of my baby finger and her legs stretched out wider than a twoonie!

Now, I'm not a spider murderer, but there was no way I could relax under my umbrella with that hanging over my head.  Nope.  Now way. Not gonna happen.  So, I grabbed the broom from our fireplace set and swept her off.  We were three floors up on my balcony, but it looked like she had a soft enough landing.  Bleh!  I named her, "Holyshitwhatthefuck"!

And finally, this happened this week:

No, we were not shearing sheep.  I asked my husband to "Fur-minate" Bernie, our pug.  There is enough hair here to stuff a pillow!  The best part.  He left this hair all over the lawn.  Forever.  He never cleaned it up!!  Nice.  Then it rained!  Swell.  I finally went out yesterday and cleaned it up. Sigh!

So that's what's up around here.  Stay tuned for more news about our robin and her eggs!

Later!

Michy

My First Mamm-Ow-Gram!

So, I had my check-up last month.  All's well you know, other than the usual warning about my weight, (love hearing that), my complaining about my aches and pains and the embarrassment of having forgotten to shave my legs and armpits.  Nothing like having to strip naked for a thorough inspection when you look like Sasquatch.  At least I got to skip the PAP test.  Apparently the province thinks my ovaries are only worth a glance every three years now, so bully for me.

I did, however get some interesting news.  Turns out I am now, "of an age", when regular breast cancer screening begins.  That's right, it's time for my first Mammogram. Interesting.  Not sure how I feel about that.  Old.  Yes, that's it.  I feel old.

What I did not feel was particularly worried.  While the idea of having ones bussoms compressed down to resemble a pancake may frighten some women, my breasts are really not that far off from this aesthetic to begin with.  Take that all my firm, perky breasted friends!  Ha ha!  Who's getting the last laugh now!  Whhaaaaaahahahahaha!

OK.  I got that out of my system.  So, me and my sweet mammary-jammas showed up for my designated appointment without a care in the world.  I was checked in, waited 1/2 hour and, when my name was called, I was led through the labyrinth that is Merivale Medical Imaging.  I was shown to a changing room where I donned a lovely paper robe.  As I was changing I noticed the walls of the changing room were adorned with the expected posters giving directions on how to do a self-exam.  I was pretty sure I already knew how to do this, however, there seem to be a couple of tips I missed.

Arms up. Arms down. Circle left. Circle right.  Lie down.  On your side. Stand up. Lean forward.  One more move and we'll have some buck hip hop choreography!  There was also notes on what to look out for.  Lumps, (obviously), pitting, (like dimples?). Drippy nipples? (Ew!).  At that point I thought I had learned enough.

I exited the changing room and was then ushered aboard the Starship Enterprise. Oh wait.  It was the mammogram room.  Holy crap!  This stuff is seriously high tech!

Mood lighting and everything!

I must say, the technician was a lovely lady.  Very pleasant and straightforward. Explained everything well.  She even told me, "this isn't going to feel very pleasant".  Still, I was not worried.  What I did not expect is just how "handsy" the whole procedure was.  My, my!  My boobs got more attention in those 10 minutes then they have in the last 10 years! So much pulling and rubbing and flattening and aligning.  Goodness, she was thorough!  

So, squish number one.  Good ole' Righty was up and she performed like a champ.  Yes, she did get squashed.  No, I did not think it was possible for human tissue to be so pliable.  But all in all, no great problems.  Lefty was up next.

Now, if my boobs had personalities, Righty would be the happy-go-lucky, easy to please type.  You know, a real go with the flow kinda gal, (insert breastfeeding joke here).  Now Lefty, well, Lefty is like the bitter old crone that stands on her front porch and yells, "get off my lawn"!!!  Every month (wink), Lefty decides to get extra cranky and bitchy, aka swollen and sore, and just generally be a huge pain in the breast.  Today was one of those days.  She didn't appreciate all the manhandling and she let it be known, believe me! 

Righty                                                       Lefty

But she made it through and I thought we were in the clear.  All done!  Super Mamma-Jammaries!  Then my lovely technician explained that she was going to do a vertical scan.

Um, what?  You've mashed them flat, now you're going to crush them standing up.  The ef lady??  But what am I gonna do.  She literally has my tits in a vice.  I'm not goin' anywhere.

So vertically actually means on kind of a diagonal. I was once again smoothed and stretched into position and then she started compressing the two glass plates together. Dayum!  It's like she was pressing olives or something!  Even sweet little Righty wasn't having a super great time.  The technician tells me to hold my breath and not breathe while she takes the shot.  No problem.  She came back and released the glass plates and Righty sprung forth like a virgins corset on her wedding night!

Then came Lefty.  

Already unhappy with the previous procedure, I was sure Lefty wasn't going to be pleased with this new turn of events.

And I was right.

Holymotherfuckinghell!!!!!!!!!!!  When those plates smashed together I was sure, 100% positive that my boob was going to explode.  I was just waiting for it.  I was picturing in my head, this grotesque mess all over this high tech spaceship room. "Hold your breath and don't move", said the technician.  

Not.   A.   Problem.  

Pain was exploding all over.  Well, not all over.  All over my boob!  I couldn't move.  I couldn't breath.  Lefty was howling at the top of her nipple, waving her cane and drooling on her house dress and fuzzy slippers.  The pain was so bad I didn't know if I was gonna cry or full out panic, when the technician came over and said, "all done".  Thank you Jesus!

I cannot quite describe the relief I felt when she released me from her high tech torture device.  I felt like I had just survived something.  You know?  Like when someone says, "I survived a house fire", or "I survived the Titanic".  Well, I survived my mammogram.

I don't know how often I need to repeat this procedure.  I don't see why my breasts have to get any more attention than my ovaries.  Doesn't seem fair, does it?  And speaking of not fair, why isn't this the way we test for testicular cancer??  Only seems fair to me boys.

Until then, peace out and love your boobies!

Michy