Tell me again why the hell am I taking all these calcium pills?!?

People who know me know that I have enough food ‘peculiarities’ to warrant their own blog post.  I don’t eat the ends of hot dogs, my sandwiches must be “level”, and I won’t eat anything that has ever come in contact with mayonnaise or a mushroom.  I despise certain color/texture combos, (Green and squishy, orange and crunchy, all things purple….) and under NO circumstance will I ever drink anything I can’t see through. I feel as an only child, this pickiness is my birthright.

For years those close to me have tried to trick me into trying “something new” — sneaking milk into a fruit smoothie or cream cheese into a cake but nothing ever passes the “sniff test”, and if by chance it does, it certainly doesn’t make it through “phase two: dissection”. How does MEB deal you ask?  Well in the same way that he has chosen to sign on for a lifetime of sleeping with a box fan, he has also decided to learn to love a gal with the palette of a six year old. (Okay, maybe more like four and a half)

(* NOTE * All pickiness aside it should be known that I am not one of “those girls” that custom order everything – I just take the cards I am dealt and re-assemble it when I get it.)

While I see nothing wrong with the way I eat and prefer to chalk it up to a refined palette I will admit that a diet of bagels (with nothing) and Quaker Oats peanut butter granola bars  (so good!) do little for me in the calcium department. Actually they do nothing for me unless you count the calcium that came from the milk that went into creating the tiny little chocolate chips interspersed in my precious granola bar.  Normally I wouldn’t care about all this but I feel I am getting a little too old to keep breaking stuff (like the knee I broke last year…well at least I think I broke my knee but I never really verified this with an actual real-life doctor…, my elbow or my toe – sadly all “self-inflicted” (Get it?? Self joke?) ). Soon Myles is gonna be pulling me around in a wheelchair.

So this January, with MEB out of the house I finally decided to start doing what he had been asking me to do all along (but with him gone it is now more of a ‘my decision thing’ then a ‘him telling me what to do thing’) and get myself some of those cute little calcium gummy bears. (I also opted to start eating yogurt every day but I fell off that wagon pretty quickly.) For the last month I have been suckin’ down the recommended dose of calcium bears every night with dinner, sometimes even tossing in an extra bear for good measure.  If the hype around all this calcium stuff is accurate I should be completely unbreakable. If only…

Gangsta shot

Fast forward to Tuesday, when with temperatures finally climbing out of the single digits I decide to go for a run outside. Five minutes into my run and just far enough away from my home to be inconvenient, my foot catches my pant leg and the next thing I know I am sprawled (un-heroically) on the pavement with my head bleeding and a shattered left hand. Seven stitches, a tetanus shot and a pending surgery later all I can ask myself is why on earth am I investing $6.74 every month for a bottle of those damn calcium bears.  Perhaps if I had never taken them in the first place I would still be standing upright.  Possible side affects for other medications include dizziness, fatigue, trouble breathing, heart murmurs, death…. why would that not also apply to these sugar coated bears with a dusting of calcium???  Hmmmmm?

My owwie. Stitches + black eye.

Ok, so maybe is was my size 10.5 feet coupled with my cat like sense of balance but I have to think the calcium didn’t help.  At the time of this blog post I am currently pursuing legal action against uh, Haribo??…stay tuned?

fashion challenge

Anyway at least I did my part for the economy. As I told the ER doctor while he was trying to figure out the last time I had a tetanus shot (I was 9 my dad tells me) I don’t have a PCP ‘cuz I don’t get sick, I just get hurt; he replied, “good, at least depend on you to keep us employed”.

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Girls’ Guide to Living In Chicago

…by yourself, in the winter, with some dogs, a skunk, and a house built long before your parents were born.

Yes, this guide is designed for you ladies out there who (like me) find themselves completely alone in the Great White North (“coldest winter we have had in 37 years!”) while your boyfriend, husband, significant other, whatever, has abandoned you for warmer weather and a free place to stay. I mean why be bitter when instead of riding your bike to the grocery store you can instead be scraping two inches of ice off of your windshield and slipping down the front steps? (Note to all afore-mentioned males (MEB included): during this time don’t even bother arguing your case; cuz you just can’t win.)

Lesson One: Shoveling. This is a given. No matter how cute that little yellow house with the detached garage (that your significant other HAD to have for his precious little car) looked in September, it will prove to be a nightmare come January. (No electronic garage door opener you say? No worries! Just take an ice axe to it when you get home from work on a blustery January evening and it will open right up.)

You, the abandoned, have two ways of looking at the 12-14 inches of snow that now blanket your only route out of dodge and to the mall. One is that this shoveling thing is really great exercise. Eat whatever you want for breakfast ‘cuz once you are out there shoveling in sub-freezing temperatures for oh say three to four freaking hours you’ll have burned off all those calories and then some. No need to go to the gym today!

Option two, (which isn’t really optional) is the “guilt trip”. Chose a word, probably a bad word, which best describes the way you are feeling about your boyfriend at the moment. Use that word as you move back and forth along the driveway. You will barely realize what you are doing (you are so mad). Next proceed to tell your sob story to every neighbor that happens to walk by while you are out there shoveling. Finally, when that boyfriend of yours gives you a call while on his way to Tahoe to go skiing let him have it. Hey, if you’re miserable, everyone should be.

water thingy

Lesson Two: Frozen Pipes. Even though your significant other insisted that you were being overly dramatic when you spoke of the -40 degree temperatures, remember that the Internet exists solely for this purpose and quickly direct him to http://www.weather.com where he can essentially ‘eat it’. With frozen pipes you are pretty much screwed. Don’t expect a shower anytime soon (contrary to popular belief this actually IS an issue for me) and melt some of that snow (that is now forming on the inside of your walls) for the dog to drink. Point your “heat dish” at the place where the water meter thingy meets the house (probably your basement?) and watch nothing improve. Give up and call your landlord to come out, rip out the wall, use a blowtorch, and get that water flowing again two days later. Repeat “guilt trip” from Lesson One.

Myles during the bird incident

Lesson Three: Animals in the house. (Aside from the domesticated ones that are actually referred to more as people now because when you live by yourself sometimes the only “person” you have to talk to is your dog.) With the temps well below freezing (still) assorted animals you wouldn’t expect to find in the city of Chicago will begin trying to seek refuge in your home. First you will see the birds. They will come shooting out through the chimney while you are at home on a Friday night watching 20/20. Your dog won’t notice you running around like a crazy person trying to get the damn bird outside because its after 9PM and he’s sleeping. MEB will tell you to open the door until he leaves. MEB is in California where the outside temperature is about 65 degrees. Resolve yourself to living with a bird until springtime.

Skunk Trap (note the dog on top is there to also scare off the skunk)

Next, weird animals with claws will start burrowing in your walls and driving your dog crazy. While you fear it is an opossum or a raccoon you will surprise yourself when you are relieved that it is “only a skunk”. Soak one of your boyfriends’ favorite dress shirts in bleach and stuff it in the hole under your deck. Now because this requires you to actually dig out the 2-3 feet of snow that is currently covering the deck and then crawl on your stomach through a bunch of thorny bushes to do what should normally be a “mans job” you need to make sure you once again repeat “guilt trip” learned in Lesson One.

Lesson Four: Plunging. Yes, in the same way that I have been known to place aluminum foil in the microwave I also

Decorative Plunger a la Ma Self

accidentally flushed a paper towel down the toilet. Hey! I have a lot on my mind these days! Toilets in old houses don’t really respond well to these types of things and because the downstairs bathroom is the same temperature as it is outside I had no choice but to fix the upstairs toilet. Never once had I plunged a toilet before now (to be honest the toilet plunger I have is more of a decorative item…turquoise with brown stripes and a cute little clay animal on the top) and whatever I was doing wasn’t working. So, instead I took a mixing bowl, filled it will hot water, poured some dish soap in there and dumped in the toilet bowl (multiple times). I let it sit 15 minutes and then plunged. Worked like a charm. I don’t want to know why.

At this point you aren’t even involving your boyfriend in your issues anymore.

So yeah, those are a few tidbits from yours truly. Ma Self always said that when you were mad about something to just write it all down and you would feel better. I figure what better arena to “air my dirty laundry” then a public blog that is read by my co-workers, his co-workers and both of our family and friends, ok, well at least by my mom and Gia ☺