Laugh. Cry. Remeber.

I saw it written once on the back of a car, a bumper sticker that said "Laugh. Cry. Remember". And so I do that now. This week has been quite an out-of-the-ordinary one for me. I do better with lists, as if you couldn't tell that already ;)

The Gyno:
Yea I'm not going to cover up the fact that I was nervous for the experience and horrified at the awkwardness. I know women who have had babies take the approach of "whatevs, it's been seen, they're doctors, no big deal". I do not have the luxury of this attitude. I wonder about what I should do before the visit, during the visit and so on. I worry about if I should talk to the Doctor or simply avoid eye contact. I prefer they not ask me questions or discuss the state of economy while messing with my nether regions. I prefer to ignore the fact that any of it is happening. I detach.

I laugh when I remember how long it took them to get my attention to ask me if I was "ok". Um no, lady, I'm not, thanks for bringing it to my attention.
I cry at the thought of maybe having to deal with abnormal results.
I remember how I ever so femininely tried to "scoot down" some more even though my booty was a bit stuck on the paper that covers the exam chair. Massive fail haha.

Shakespeare:
I came home on Sunday to find mi favorito kitty was limping. I worried something had happened to him while I was away. I worried every time he jumped up that he would hurt himself and even more when he would jump down. I dislike going to the vet office, but I dislike hearing bad news even more.

I laugh when I think about how cantankerous he is and how he just stares at me with a look of "I don't think so" when I try to get him to chase a toy.
I cry when I think about him maybe not being at the door waiting for me when I get home.
I remember how reassuring it is to have him sitting next to me on the couch with his little paw on my arm. He's seen me through some really great times and really tough times too. He's by far the coolest cat around!

Momma:
I get my Mom here for a couple days while she has a doctor's appointment and needed to get a few administrative life things accomplished as well. I loved getting a phone call from her today saying everything went well at the doctor's appointment and all the check points look good. I'm a lucky girl to have such an amazing Mom!

I laugh when I think about how much fun she is to kid with about patronizing tones or her beating me at Words with Friends.
I cry when I think about some of the tougher days of her chemo treatment and equally as much when I get the sweet, good news of excellent results :)
I remember how when I was a kid she would blow on my skinned knee to lessen the sting after putting Sante on the wound and how she would sing to me as I fell asleep if I didn't want to be alone for the night yet.

I haven't been a fan of this week, exactly, but I see the Lord's guidance and comfort at each step. I see the value of life and how precious sweet moments with loved ones really are. I have been able to learn once again what really matters, and surprisingly enough it isn't my cell phone, tv shows, lunch plans, current job, car or retirement plan. It's enjoying each day that we're given, despite their awkward moments, sad news or losing at Words with Friends. Life is so much more good than bad.

Subversive Window Washer

September 29, 1967
Column by Erma Bombeck

A wonderful thing happened in our neighborhood last week.
Wanda the window washer moved.
Wanda wasn’t a bad sort. It’s just when you get a woman of her kind who washes windows every 10 days the neighborhood gets a bad name.
I remember the day she moved in. We were all poking our heads through the cracks on our doors (our windows distort bodies), when right off we saw her unpack this big stepladder.
“Don’t panic!” I told the group. “It’s probably a garage prop. Undoubtedly got it for a wedding present and doesn’t know what it’s for.”
Within minutes, she was shinnying up the rungs with a bucket in her hand and polishing the panes until we were nearly struck blind by the glare.
After that performance, homemade FOR SALE signs sprang up like crabgrass. We tried to reason with some of the homeowners, but they stood firm.
“We’re selling before property values decrease,” they insisted.
“Sure, now it’s only a window washer, but tomorrow it’ll be a grass trimmer, a porch scrubber, a garbage can cleaner or even some nut who waxes the driveway.”
Those of us who stood firm got it from all directions, especially our husbands.
“Hey,” said my husband one evening, “is that woman across the street washing her windows again?”
“What windows?” I said, trying to divert his attention.
“You told me our windows weren’t washable, that you had to send them out to be cleaned.”
“Our windows aren’t that dirty or I’d wash them.”
“Aren’t that dirty?” he shouted. “We’re the only house in the block growing mushrooms for houseplants!”
“Can’t you see what Wanda the window washer really is?” I asked. “She’s a subversive. She was sent to this good upper-middle-class neighborhood of slobs to cause unrest, discontent and hostility. In time, she’ll cause us to fight with our husbands, argue with our neighbors. The next thing you know, we’ll divide politically and the country will be taken over by Communists.”
The new neighbor moved in yesterday.
“How do you feel about washing windows?” we asked cautiously.
“The same way I feel about biting fingernails,” she said. “It’s a filthy habit. Besides, it’s un-American.”
Now, there’s the kind of woman you’d like your son to marry.

Campus Survey Conversation

Them: Ma'am? Would you mind taking a survey on the tobacco practices on and around campus?
Me: What?
Them: Would you mind taking a survey. It's about tobacco use and practices.
Me: Oh um (why did I have to stop and get a newspaper? Never let them see you slow down, let alone stop!!) sure.
Them: Great. What would you say is your age?
Me: I'd say it's 20, but my birth certificate says otherwise ;)
Them: So you'd rather not say. Check. What would you say is your sexual preference?
Me: This is a survey on tobacco isn't it?
Them: So you'd rather not say. Check. Do you believe the faculty would like this to be a non-smoking campus?
Me: (Staring at the Orlando Sentinel newspaper dispenser) Didn't newspapers use to be free?
Them: Do you believe the faculty would like this to be a non-smoking campus?
Me: Seriously, didn't newspapers use to be free on campus? You just had to swipe your id card.
Them: No answer. Ok, what about Administration? Do you believe they would like this to be a non-smoking campus?
Me: I just don't see the place where I'm suppose to swipe my card. It use to be there.
Them: You do realize this is the 21st century, right? No one reads the newspaper anymore.
Me: Exactly why it should be FREE!