WAX ON!

Do you know exactly what your parents do at work? Think about it. As a kid, if someone asked you, "What does your Dad or Mom do for work?" Could you answer that question? Could you give more than just a title? Can you, now as an adult, give a better answer about your Mom or Dad's work? Heck do you even know exactly what your spouse or your best friend does? Chances are, that if they are not in the same office or field as you are, probably not.

My Dad was an audiologist, an ear specialist. Here's what I know to be facts about his job:

-He'd leave the house very early every morning with his "go mug" of instant coffee and a brown brief case with gold latches and a combination lock. (I always wondered what exactly one keeps in a brief case that locks?)

-He had his own office, which I always thought was really cool.

-He tested people's hearing. I have a vague memory of what this involved. I was must have been really young the last time he tested my ears. Since neither of my sisters could be reached at time of publishing this blog, I am gonna assume that my memory of the hearing test, is accurate. We'd sit in a booth with windows that faced Dad who was on the other side of the glass, sitting in front of a panel of switches. We'd put headphones on and he'd play sounds for us. I can't remember exactly what we did to signal to him that we heard the sound, but if we did it right a stuffed rabbit or some other "woodland creature" would play a drum in the corner of the sound booth.

-He had a really cool 3D model of the inner ear and as both a teacher and a student, I took that model to school to share with my classmates, big and small.

-He loved to have work parties at our farm. Taking his friends on bumpy, crazy drives in our 1971 Chevy Blazer through our golpher hole infested horse pasture made him laugh and his friends kiss the ground when they finally drove back into the yard.

-He gave an interview on the news once on his views about Cochlear inplants.

That's it, tha'ts all I truly know for sure about what my Dad did at work. I know that at home he did not like me to use Q-tips to clean my ears and for some reason I loved to clean my ears. In fact, I still do. Like, I really love it. I love the feeling of twirling a Q-tip around inside my ear as much as I love the feeling of pulling it out and seeing a big glob of yellow goo on the end of it! I love that!!! For the last three weeks, I have not been able to properly clean my ears with the forbidden Q-tip. It's just not the same, using my left hand all by itself without having the right one to pull the top of my ear tight enabling the Q-tip to get good and deep. It's not the same, reaching across my face, trying to dig inside my right ear with my left hand. Oh, how I miss using Q-tips. That will be one of the things I will truly savor when this collar bone heals!

DISHES

What is your dishwasher style? Do you believe in loading the dirty, food smeared dishes right from the dinner table into the dishwasher? Or are you a believer in heavy rinsing prior to loading any dish? Do you have strict rules regarding the loading procedure? Are you the type that will remove dishes that have not been properly rinsed or placed in the proper spot? Or are you the type that loads everything, everything in the dishwasher, rolling pins, pots, pans, big knives? Do you put your cutlery in the rack fork tines up or down? Do you even have a dishwasher?

We have a dishwasher and I am a rinser, not a heavy rinser, but a rinser. I like to load as much as possible into my dishwasher, but I do wash pots and pans in the sink. I don't stick to a strategic loading plan and I like my fork tines and knife blades pointed down.

I guess today, I just felt like giving a shout out to one of my favorite appliances! Cheers!

DRIVIN'!!

Didn't end up going to work, Tuesday. I just wasn't ready. Today, I went in for half the day and I drove myself. Until this afternoon, I had not driven at all since my bike accident. Until today, i had not driven with the use of only one arm...the left one!! When driving with the use of only your left arm, you gotta be sure, before you leave your driveway, that you are happy with the volume of your stereo, the temperature coming out of your vents and the directions of them cause there is NO CHANGING ANYTHING!

There is no multi tasking, no eating or texting or talking on the phone, nothing to do but drive!! I guess that's not a bad thing, just...different from the way I normally roll!

MEASUREMENT OF TIME

I guess it hasn't even been 2 weeks since I got injured (though it feels a lot longer). Until just now when I counted the days, I didn't even know how many, but I could have told you:

-I have used one whole roll of toilet paper in the bathroom upstairs (Marty had to open the new roll on day 2, I just tore the plastic off the 2nd roll by myself yesterday)

-I hav gone through three pans of home made energy bars (2 different girlfriends came over and made me a batch and just this morning Marty, under my supervision, made the third batch.

-I have washed my sling once (though I am sure it needs it more)

-I have only had my armpits shaved once, I've been able to shower on my own lately, but I still can't reach that armpit, ewwwwww!!

-I have read 4 gossip magazines and seen numerous re runs of "The Real Housewives" shows.

-I've been to see the horses once (that was overdoing it)

-I majorly re injured myself once, while attempting to put on a hoodie by myself.

-I've had to cut off 2 shirts (the first was the one I was wearing at the time of accident, the second, was one I managed to wiggle into, but COULD NOT get out of!)

-I've recieved one boquet of flowers, 3 books, a huge box of jelly bellies, some home made baking, a 4 pack of coolers, several notes, cards and laughs.

-I've been to the doc's three times- once the night of accident = Emergency, once to a walk in clinic for a note allowing me to stay home from work and once to the Bone Specialist where I learned that in addition to my broken collar bone, I have cracked my scapula in 2 places.

-I've been to the dog park only twice!

-I've sat in the sun on my driveway in a lawn chair twice

-I've been to one photography class, but I can't lift my camera high enough to take any pictures!

-I've been bored EVERY DAY!!!

I am thankful that this is only temporary and I am trying to keep positive. Tomorrow, i will attempt to go to work. I am anxious about it, but want to try and see if I can handle it! Wish me luck!

One hand woman!

I have been getting used to getting dressed feet first. I cannot lift my right arm above my boob (this is an improvement since in the beginning I couldn't lift my arm at all.) I managed to wiggle, with Marty's help into a long sleeved tee shirt this morning, only to discover that it was actually too hot for long sleeves. I had to bug him again (thank God he works from home alot) to help me wiggle out of the shirt. I chose another tank top from my drawer that looked stretchy enough to pull up feet first. I got it almost all the way on and then, I got stuck!!! Marty, sighed, as I interrupted him once again, and helped my arms slide into the straps. It was a tight squeeze, I am pretty sure I am going to have to have him to cut this one off...how many tops must be sacrificed?

I had a shower by myself yesterday for the first time since the accident. Have you tried to shampoo your hair with one hand? Your left hand??? Once I finally managed to squeeze the liquid out of the bottle, I had a little puddle of it in the palm of my hand. All I could do, was tip my hand over on top of my head which just created a puddle of shapoo on the very top of my head. I did the best I could to smear the soap through all of my hair, it's hard to get the long part, but I think I managed.....

I cant' stand the bangs in my eyes or my hair on my neck right now, especially because it is not curled or anything. I have tried to work the curling iron with my left hand but I just end up with weird kinks and burnt cheeks....while my hair was wet, I grabbed my bangs in my left hand, twisted them and hoped it would hold long enough for me to pry apart a bobby pin with one hand and stick it into the wet, twisted bangs. I did the same with my long hair. I twisted it, tipped my head forward so the wet hair would balance the nape of my neck while I grabbed a clip and quickly tried to squeeze as much hair as possible into that clip....I know, Iknow, you are thinking, why the hell are you trying to do your hair???? I just can't stand the feel of it on my shoulders and neck right now and, yes, I am that vain. I can't just sit around feeling gross. I have also been painting my eyebrows on with my left hand, also an interesting event....

HAIR DRESSER

I was not ready to stand long enough to take a shower today, my whole right side was just too sore. I was still pretty dirty after my wreck, and my hair was matted. I couldn't take the feeling of it on my neck, so I had to convince Marty to braid it for me. A ponytail was not an option as I was gonna be laying down alot and a pony tail would be uncomfortable. Marty was a great sport and he braided hair for the first time in his life. For him, the hard part was figuring out how to put the elastic in the end of the braid.

So far, Marty has been an amazingly patient nurse. Over the course of the last two days, my incredible nurse/hubby, has braided my hair, put on my deoderant for me, shaved my arm pits and taken stellar care of me!!

SWEATY SHORTS

While in Emergency, I was told that I needed to give a urine sample, like i had to pee in a cup. The nurse led me, dressed in my spandex bike shorts and tank top to the washroom. I had warm hospital sheets wrapped around me, but once the door was closed, i had to set them on the counter in order not to pee on them. I very tenderly and carefully lowered myself down on the seat. I awkwardly placed the collection container between my legs and hoped for the best. I was in too much pain to bend over, so when I stood up and looked down at the sweaty spandex shorts pooled around my ankles, I almost cried! Seriously?! How the hell was I gonna pull up that sweaty mess with my left hand when I couldn't even bend over??? I dont know how, but i managed, thank god. Imagine how uncomfortable Marty would have been had i needed to summon him to hold the pee collection cup while i peed and to pull up my bike shorts? The best thing about Marty, though, is that he would have done it and he wouldn't have made me feel stupid! I am lucky!

My bike bucked me off!

My brother-in law, who built my bike tells me, he builds them all with a touch of orniry and now I believe it!

I got bucked off right over the handle bars into the trees! I was riding with a woman's group and there were three riders behind me. Between the other riders and the nurse and her husband who came on the scene, they got me stabilized, called Marty and walked me and my bike out of the bush to a parking lot. Marty loaded me and my bike into his van and drove me to emergency. In the hospital, we learned I had broken my collar bone and possibly my scapula. I was sent home with a sling, some pain killers and the number of a bone specialist with instructions to call him in the morning.

TIME OUT!!!!!

Just got in a nasty tangle with a hill...the hill won! My bike and I did loose that battle, but we intend to win the war...as soon as this broken collar bone heals!!!!

Crazy that now, because of the accident i have all the time in the world to write, but this hunting and pecking for the keys with my left hand is tiring....i have a few fun stories to tell and as long as udon't mind a few more typos than usual or a lack of capital letters, sometimes it is hard to hit the shift button and the letter with one hand, i will try to keep writing!!!

POCKET DIALING

Mom and I were driving home at 9:30pm after an evening of riding horses out at the Farm, when we heard a voice. We were exhausted, like stupid tired from our horsey adventures, so for a minute we both thought we were hearing things.

"Hello, anybody there? It's me?"

A panick attack set in! Maybe it was God! God was finally looking for me! It had, afterall been quite some time since I last checked in with him and he was probably finally wondering where the hell I'd been!!!

My panic ceased once I recognized the voice as Nicole's. Surely Nicole was not God, or at the very least, God could not possibly sound like Nicole....

I shook my head, but the voice wouldn't go away, it was coming from....mom's pants! What? A God like voice, replicating Nicole's was coming from Mom's pants???

Eventually, we discovered that mom's cell phone had pocket dialed Nic! Mom must have shifted just right in the passenger seat, allowing her jeans to press on the "dial" button and her phone rang Nic up without us even knowing it!!

Ah, dooped by the good old pocket dial! Gets everybody at least once....right?

GUMS

Yep, the woman's bathroom in our teacher's lounge at work, is exactly as you imagine it. 2 stalls, single ply toilet paper, two sinks, a mirror and a paper towel dispenser. Oh and there is an extra mirror on the wall, the kind that opens into a little cabinet where too many women try to store too many toiletries. Maxi pads, tampons, cover up, combs, mini bottles of hair spray, lip stick, toothpaste tubes covered with crusty toothpaste, old, furry toothbrushes and floss. It's a real hodge podge of stuff in there, and I have to assume that because nothing in there is labled, that everyone knows where their own "products" are.

Today, I used my toothbrush after lunch. It is an OLD one. A travel toothbrush, so that it has it's own little case to keep the very old, broken down bristles clean, if nothing else. I squeezed toothpaste out of my own disgusting, paste smeared tube and began brushing my teeth, in an attempt to mask my coffee breath. I began brushing and OWWWW!!!! My gums, my gums, they started bleeding!!!! There is no way that my old, super soft brush could cause my gums to bleed. The culprit?? The brand new toothbrush I bought at Walmart and used for the first time this morning made my gums raw!!!!!! OUCH!!!

TOOTS!!

I am 34 years old, but farting is still funny to me and there are few things funnier to me tonight than the squeaky, airy sounds of Scout letting "one" go!! Until we got Scout, I didn't even know Dog's farted and now that I know, I think it is hilarious!!! Seriously, dogs fart! Ha ha ha ha!!!

SING LIKE NOBODY'S LISTENING!

These two boys in grade 5 came up to me at the start of French Class today to ask if they could sing a song they'd made up for the class. The song, ofcorse, was not in French, however I get a kick out of kids with spirit like this, so I indulged them. The entire class focused their attention on the pair as they began rocking their feet in rythm as they belted out some weird little song that they had made up. To their credit, it was obviously something they had practiced as they seemed to have a little routine that ended with them belly sliding across the floor of the classroom. They grinned up from the floor, head in their hands at the class who clapped wildly.

The words really were not that impressive. Their voices? Nothing to write home about and the dance moves lacked luster. Their enthusiasm though, was contagious and their confidence had the other 25 kids believing that they had just witnessed a rock concert!

I, for one, felt suddenly overcome with envy....and sadness. Envy of their free spirit and their uninhibited belief in themselves. I can't remember the last time I made up a song and dance routine or slid across anything on my belly.

Sadness, for that fact that most likely, by the time these two hit middle school they will have lost that confidence. The chance they will perform belly slides as part of a spontaneous "boy band" dance routine, in front of their peers again are pretty much nil!

But why? What happens to kids between the ages of 10 and 13? Who knocks them down? Who makes them doubt themselves?

I refuse to have any part of reining in youthful enthusiasm, they loose it too fast all on their own. While these performances and outbursts of silliness have little to do with French, I embrace them, heck I encourage them!

Just yesterday, after the grade 8's had finished cutting huge 3D letters out of giant sheets of styrofoam for their farewell party, I let the spontaneous foam fight that naturally broke out, rage on. I stood back, after having each one of them pinky swear they would clean up every last crumb of styrofoam before lunch, and watched as they smashed the foam leftovers over eachother's heads, backs and butts. I watched as they chased eachother around with foam blocks, giggling, squealing and laughing like they were 6 years old. In the end the classroom was left clean and the eighth graders left feeling like kids. Free, crazy, wild, kids!!!!

Here's wishing everyone who reads this, takes time today to bust loose, to shake off all inhibitions, to sing ridiculous song lyrics at the top of their lungs and to belly slide...

NO POOP ZONE

A complete stranger scolded me this morning! Here I was feeling pretty good about myself as I managed to get myself up out of bed good and early, despite the howling wind and threat of snow, to take Scout for a walk. She was particularily "regular" this morning, pooping three times over the course of our 45 minute walk. The third time, I carried the poop bag for almost 10 minutes before I came across the garbage can at the bus stop. There was a man waiting in the bus stop shelter and after I dropped my bag of poop into the trash can he scolded me! He points to the sign on the trash canister, the one that says "for transit users only," and tells me that the garbage can is for people who are waiting for the bus, not for dog shit! I was dumbfounded. I couldnt' even think of anything witty to say. I simply opened the lid, and said, "hmm, looks like it is full of dog poop," then I walked away. I wish I would have taken my doggy bag out of the garbage and set it on the ground or asked him to hold it, but I didn't.

Obviously he is not a dog owner! Yeesh!

TACKLE DOG FOOTBALL

We bought Scout a frisbee today. Marty refused to pay 25 dollars for the tough dog frisbee. Instead, we got the dollar ninety-nine hard plastic one at Walmart. It lasted exactly 5 minutes at the dog park before it snapped in half during one of Scout's "in air" catching attempts. Before it broke, there were a few precious moments of playtime. I chased Scout around trying to grab the frisbee from her mouth. I know, I know, I should call her to me and have her "drop it," but sometimes it is fun to just chase her around. I'd get awful close sometimes and the temptation would be there to just grab her neck like a steer wrestler and tackle her to the ground. I resisted the temptation, because the chances of our tackle ending with her on the bottom cushioning my fall were slim.

There was a time though, when things like skidding across the grass with my arms wrapped around the neck of large dog moving at lighting speed didn't stop me from doing fun things like tackling him! Infact my sisters and I once invented a game called "Tackle Dog Football." We'd throw a foam football to our Dog Spunky and then the three of us would wildly chase him around the yard. We'd race across the yard arms flailing wildly, voices concentrated in high pitched squeals hoping we'd be the one to magically get close enough to throw ourselves at Spunky and successfully tackle him to the ground, thus triumphantly retrieving our ball! Spunky, loved this game as much as we did and though it was three against one, he always won! I am gonna go out on a limb here and say that it was our standard "outdoor shoes" that slowed us down! No one ever explained to us that athletes, especially ones participating in sprinting activities, should sport foot wear other than rubber boots or vynal cowboy boots! I am also pretty sure that our jacket pockets, alway inevitably full of horse treats (oats and crunchies) also contributed to our lack of speed!

Today, in the dog park with Scout, I had no rubber boots or horse treat filled pockets but as I ran after her I felt like I did back then, happy and free and just as slow!!!