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weekend update in three parts
Apr. 5th, 2004 07:26 pmItem the First: The Shower
Okay, here's the thing: I don't think I have great taste. It's not my thing, really; I'd like to be good at it, but in all honesty, I never know the proper thing to do, say, or wear in a given situation, and I rely heavily on other people to guide me (my mom and my friend Joanna, primarily). Because of this, I always feel really guilty and evil for gossiping about what I think is in poor taste – there's a chance I could and would do the same or similarly tacky things were I not surrounded by people saying, "No, Jess, you can't wear those shoes with that outfit." Maybe I do these things already, in spite of all the help! I don't know!!!
Sadly, this rarely stops me from making judgments about other people's taste (or lack thereof), occasionally sharing them in this journal.
All of this is a boring lead up to: I attended a baby shower for Kristen the Republican Bride this weekend.
The thing about showers, bridal or baby, is that they are by definition awful. They're terribly boring, requiring you to dress nice and give up hours of your life you'll never get back just to sit there and go "Ooooh. Aaaah," as another kitchen gadget/baby gadget is opened in front of you. But there are ways to make them less awful or more awful, and this shower? Was an exercise in the more awful, hands down.
( a lengthy discussion of the shower, including my personal rules for making showers less awful )
Item the Second: Awkward Grandfather Interaction
Last night my grandfather came over for dinner. I can't remember how much I've talked about it in my LJ, but he's in declining health. He has been for the past few years, really, but especially since last August his mobility and mental state has been deteriorating, which has been stressful and hard to see.
But every so often there comes from it a gem, like last night. Every weekend we fix him a meal, usually dinner on Saturday or Sunday, and during the winter we'd just gone to his house with a plate of what we were eating or take out from one of his favorite restaurants. Since it's almost spring (technically it IS spring, but it sure doesn't feel like it lately), we decided to get him out of the house last night, and so he came to our place.
As we were sitting there at dinner, after he'd spent thirty seconds expectorating into one of his dinner napkins (there's nothing quite like dining with octogenarians with chronic post-nasal drip), he turned to us and said, in his most despairing Oh Poor Me voice (which he's most definitely justified in using at this point, considering his condition), "I hate to be a bother, but I need your assistance. You see, when I wake up in the morning, I – well, I have trouble getting erect. Later in the day it's fine, but in the morning, it's often a half hour struggle, and if someone could just stop by at about seven in the morning every day to help me get erect, I'd so appreciate it."
After he finished, there was a long pause during which my mother, father, and I exchanged looks and tried very, very hard not to laugh. Clearly my grandfather, being exposed to only the Eternal Word Television Network for the past decade or so, has missed the cultural bandwagon when it comes to English usage for the word "erect"; while back in The Day it may have been a run-of-the-mill of saying "to stand upright," nowadays, as I'm sure you all know, it means something else.
"Hmm," my mother said. "Yes. Well. We'll find a way to help you get up in the mornings, Jim."
"You see, once I get up, I'm fine, but at first – I have a really hard time getting erect."
"Right," I said.
"Yeah, we'll – we'll do something about that," my Dad said, and then tried to steer the conversation in another direction but my grandfather just would NOT let it go and went on for at least five minutes about his difficulty getting erect. I am not joking. He must have said the word fifty times. It was...an experience.
Item the Third: My Stupid Back
Last night, after bringing my grandfather home and helping him around, I took out the garbage, found the cat, and brought her inside. I leaned over to pick her up to give her a pill and oh dear GOD I saw stars. My back, which had been bothering me on and off for weeks and more so this past weekend, just exploded in pain and I almost passed out. Well, not really; what I did do was clutch poor Molly to my belly and lean against the counter, trying not to breathe. And then trying to breathe. And then deciding that I would give up chocolate for life if God would take the pain away.
Anyway, got back iced, took ibuprofen, went to bed and had a hard time sleeping, and woke up this morning feeling wretched again so I called in sick to work and made a desperate call to my doctor's office for an appointment today, which I got. I lurched around the house for hours, positive I had been terribly injured, and then decided to try my stretches again. After that, took a few ibuprofen and, magically, the pain? Just about disappeared. Not entirely, really, but for the most part? I felt FINE. And was faced with the prospect of an emergency doctor's appointment in two hours that I suddenly very much did not need.
Felt like crazy person going to said appointment! But I did, and the doctor was quite nice, going over my symptoms and telling me I Did the Right Thing, etc etc. She didn't even make fun of me when I referred to my back as being "ouchy" (it is a technical term). The result was the same old story: lower back muscle strain, don't lift heavy things, it's a slow process, blah blah blah. I do not like this whole back pain thing. It's annoying, and I feel like a pain in the ass for those around me. What am I going to do at work? Will have to be annoying temp with back problems who cannot lift things! They should fire me. I am being completely serious when I say I'm more trouble than I'm worth if I can't lift heavy things – one of my big tasks in the weeks to come is helping them prepare for this huge event in April. I have to put together 600 packets. This involves finding 600 copies of lots of things, including buttons, and carrying stacks/boxes/bags of 600 things, and putting them together, and if I can't do that what use am I to them?
Whatever. Happy thoughts: Between today and Good Friday, I have a three-day week! Woot!
And now it's almost dinner. Enough rambling from me.
Okay, here's the thing: I don't think I have great taste. It's not my thing, really; I'd like to be good at it, but in all honesty, I never know the proper thing to do, say, or wear in a given situation, and I rely heavily on other people to guide me (my mom and my friend Joanna, primarily). Because of this, I always feel really guilty and evil for gossiping about what I think is in poor taste – there's a chance I could and would do the same or similarly tacky things were I not surrounded by people saying, "No, Jess, you can't wear those shoes with that outfit." Maybe I do these things already, in spite of all the help! I don't know!!!
Sadly, this rarely stops me from making judgments about other people's taste (or lack thereof), occasionally sharing them in this journal.
All of this is a boring lead up to: I attended a baby shower for Kristen the Republican Bride this weekend.
The thing about showers, bridal or baby, is that they are by definition awful. They're terribly boring, requiring you to dress nice and give up hours of your life you'll never get back just to sit there and go "Ooooh. Aaaah," as another kitchen gadget/baby gadget is opened in front of you. But there are ways to make them less awful or more awful, and this shower? Was an exercise in the more awful, hands down.
( a lengthy discussion of the shower, including my personal rules for making showers less awful )
Item the Second: Awkward Grandfather Interaction
Last night my grandfather came over for dinner. I can't remember how much I've talked about it in my LJ, but he's in declining health. He has been for the past few years, really, but especially since last August his mobility and mental state has been deteriorating, which has been stressful and hard to see.
But every so often there comes from it a gem, like last night. Every weekend we fix him a meal, usually dinner on Saturday or Sunday, and during the winter we'd just gone to his house with a plate of what we were eating or take out from one of his favorite restaurants. Since it's almost spring (technically it IS spring, but it sure doesn't feel like it lately), we decided to get him out of the house last night, and so he came to our place.
As we were sitting there at dinner, after he'd spent thirty seconds expectorating into one of his dinner napkins (there's nothing quite like dining with octogenarians with chronic post-nasal drip), he turned to us and said, in his most despairing Oh Poor Me voice (which he's most definitely justified in using at this point, considering his condition), "I hate to be a bother, but I need your assistance. You see, when I wake up in the morning, I – well, I have trouble getting erect. Later in the day it's fine, but in the morning, it's often a half hour struggle, and if someone could just stop by at about seven in the morning every day to help me get erect, I'd so appreciate it."
After he finished, there was a long pause during which my mother, father, and I exchanged looks and tried very, very hard not to laugh. Clearly my grandfather, being exposed to only the Eternal Word Television Network for the past decade or so, has missed the cultural bandwagon when it comes to English usage for the word "erect"; while back in The Day it may have been a run-of-the-mill of saying "to stand upright," nowadays, as I'm sure you all know, it means something else.
"Hmm," my mother said. "Yes. Well. We'll find a way to help you get up in the mornings, Jim."
"You see, once I get up, I'm fine, but at first – I have a really hard time getting erect."
"Right," I said.
"Yeah, we'll – we'll do something about that," my Dad said, and then tried to steer the conversation in another direction but my grandfather just would NOT let it go and went on for at least five minutes about his difficulty getting erect. I am not joking. He must have said the word fifty times. It was...an experience.
Item the Third: My Stupid Back
Last night, after bringing my grandfather home and helping him around, I took out the garbage, found the cat, and brought her inside. I leaned over to pick her up to give her a pill and oh dear GOD I saw stars. My back, which had been bothering me on and off for weeks and more so this past weekend, just exploded in pain and I almost passed out. Well, not really; what I did do was clutch poor Molly to my belly and lean against the counter, trying not to breathe. And then trying to breathe. And then deciding that I would give up chocolate for life if God would take the pain away.
Anyway, got back iced, took ibuprofen, went to bed and had a hard time sleeping, and woke up this morning feeling wretched again so I called in sick to work and made a desperate call to my doctor's office for an appointment today, which I got. I lurched around the house for hours, positive I had been terribly injured, and then decided to try my stretches again. After that, took a few ibuprofen and, magically, the pain? Just about disappeared. Not entirely, really, but for the most part? I felt FINE. And was faced with the prospect of an emergency doctor's appointment in two hours that I suddenly very much did not need.
Felt like crazy person going to said appointment! But I did, and the doctor was quite nice, going over my symptoms and telling me I Did the Right Thing, etc etc. She didn't even make fun of me when I referred to my back as being "ouchy" (it is a technical term). The result was the same old story: lower back muscle strain, don't lift heavy things, it's a slow process, blah blah blah. I do not like this whole back pain thing. It's annoying, and I feel like a pain in the ass for those around me. What am I going to do at work? Will have to be annoying temp with back problems who cannot lift things! They should fire me. I am being completely serious when I say I'm more trouble than I'm worth if I can't lift heavy things – one of my big tasks in the weeks to come is helping them prepare for this huge event in April. I have to put together 600 packets. This involves finding 600 copies of lots of things, including buttons, and carrying stacks/boxes/bags of 600 things, and putting them together, and if I can't do that what use am I to them?
Whatever. Happy thoughts: Between today and Good Friday, I have a three-day week! Woot!
And now it's almost dinner. Enough rambling from me.
