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Archive for August, 2008

Anniversary of Shrub Accident

I almost forgot to mention about the last of the 3 semi-major accidents I had last year.

  • The 1st one ~ when my vehicle danced into guardrail.
  • The 2nd one ~ when my right eardrum met a knitting needle.

The 3rd one: Encounter with a rhodie branch

Back In 2006, the rhododendron shrubs that grew on the side of my house were too dense. You couldn’t reach down to access underneath the front deck. The shrubs were over 6 feet tall and covering one side of the front deck. Armed with ambition and pruners, Mr. Wonderful and I cleared branches upon branches, thus thinning out the shrubs to a manageable lot. This way, a person can go under and be able to clean the area. In addition, it was for security reasons; so no one can hide down there without being noticed.

Fast forward summer of 2007. Yard work season. So focused I was to reach further into the rhodies to get the rake under the deck, I failed to notice a low, protruding branch. Next thing I knew my forehead hit that branch. The impact was hard enough, I actually some stars. Cursing myself for such a careless act, with my forehead starting to throb I touched the area and felt something wet and thick. As suspected, it was blood. BLOOD BIG TIME!

Crawling out of the shrubs, I made sure no one had seen me. Beelining into the house as fast as I could, surveying the damage. Curses upon curses I heaved upon myself. All I could think of then was I’d have this stupid scar on my forehead, right where everyone will notice, for the rest of my life.

Want more details of the wound? If not, skip this paragraph. As superficial as the wound was, the skin where the branch met forehead bone…….well……..I skinned it alright. With patience, I carefully spread skin back, cleaned, disinfected, medicated and placed a bandage on it. Figured the wound wasn’t deep enough to go to Urgent Care. Besides, I was embarrassed to go there as they’d probably remember me from my last accident with the eardrum.

 Inverted Y-shaped scar

Joking about the accident happened the following day when hubby and I went for breakfast at his favorite restaurant. He was more known by the restaurant owner for the many times he frequent the establishment. And here I was with un-bandaged* forehead trying to lower my head so swollen, screaming-red wound won’t be seen too prominently. (*Unbandaged so wound will heal faster.)

Everything was fine, until the owner (who happens to speak with a booming voice), saw me and asked loudly what happened to me. Of course, eyes were all upon me. Casually, Mr. Wonderful stated we had a huge fight and he hit me. You should see the look of disgust the owner gave my husband. It read: ‘Why, you are such a despicable man! I can’t believe I even know you.’ I was afraid she might call the cops on him. Quickly, I told her about the encounter with a rhodie branch.

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My 91st Posting! Contest Idea!

My goodness!

I didn’t think I’d reach this point on my blog to have anything interesting to say on any given day’s topic. I would have wanted more knitting entries than what I have posted so far. But heck, such is life!

This is my 91st posting! I had thought of doing a contest or something on my 100th posting. I wasn’t expecting it to be sooooo soon. So, I come unprepared. Sorta!

This said, I am now moving any contest or giveaway idea on my 150th posting. That way, it would have more fun stuffs in it.

On second thought, I already have the idea. It’s a giveaway of yarns, or something or another. I’ll make it a little harder to enter, just so it would be fair to everyone.

The first rule would be: only people who leave comments can enter. And spammers need not apply! Also, family members cannot be included. (Sorry, Lampaii!) Wait, Lampaii is the ONLY ONE to leave comments consistently. Lampaii may get some consolation prize or something.

So for all those of you blog lurkers, it’s time to leave them comments! I won’t hint here to leave nice comments. Oh wait, I just did.

There will be other rules, I think. But by my 100th post, there will be a tangible rule or two added.

SO LET THE CONTEST BEGIN!

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Sinigang Salmon

YS, I stand corrected.

I mistakenly called the fish stew dish she made when she was here, as Nilagang Isda. (See previous dish description in a blog entry I wrote a couple of weeks ago, subtitled Tuesday).

It’s not a fish stew, it’s a Fish Sour Soup. Same difference (hahaha). It’s Sinigang Salmon.

Before I finished eating up the leftover dish sometime ago, I remembered to take a photo.

YS was right. The dish would taste better if aged a few days. Sure enough! So, before I devoured the dish, I wanted a memento of it in the form of a picture. Everything about the dish was soooooo delicious.

Thanks, YS! And thanks, Lola!

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COXSACKIE!

Say it! Go ahead, say it! Yes, it is a word. Look it up.

COXSACKIE!

The other night at work, I came across a lab order that had an error. Medical terms are convoluted sounding, scientific names that sometimes come out funny-sounding. Anyway, coxsackie virus came up as an error. I had to call the department to have them fix the order. A lab tech, a man, answered the phone. In my effort to sound official and all-learned, I started to say the word to the man. Except, I hesitated once I said COX. He howled with laughter before I could continue with the rest of the word.

Talk about uncomfortable. So I asked him how the word should sound. He started with COX; we both ended up laughing even more. COXSACKIE, pronounced COCK/SOCK/EYE, according to him. I pronounced it COCKS/(pause)/SOCK/EE. I liked the way I said it. It sounded like a dirty S*X**L term.

COXSACKIE made my day (er, night). The lab tech, I’m sure, will never forget me.

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Rotten Fish Award Goes to……

Me!

Why?

Two weeks have passed since YS’s and my mom’s visit here. Everyone had been overjoyed and looking forward to that moment. I had begged and begged for my mom, Lola, to come. It took her more than 7 years to finally visit. Several reasons stopped her, one of which was because of her health issues.  That aside, Lola finally agreed to come. I was so delighted!

Everything was honky-dory with the visit. But like an old wart that won’t go away, being together for sometime, revives old dysfunctional feelings. Why is it that alot of times it’s the old pent-up feelings that come up more than the good feelings with family relationships? 

I had romanticized how mom will be happy, I will be happy and the rest of the family also happy with such visit. But face to face with that notion, reality bites.

Somehow……

(Gosh, I hope YS won’t show this blog to mom for this next statement I make.) I have this feeling that at my mom’s age and health issues, she may not last that long. I hate to discuss that taboo word: DEATH, and yet that’s what I always think about; not obsessively I’d hope. Okay, yes I do think about it obsessively, how to face it myself, to lose family members and even friends to such a final moment.

Anyway, I snapped at my mom for being indecisive about cooking dinner. All along the time that she and YS were cooking for me and my family, I willingly gave up kitchen duty to both of them. I patiently waited for food to come my plate. That the least I could show was feeling of gratefulness, not only for the visit but for their willingness to prepare food that I so love.

‘Impatience’ was not the word I’d be proud of at that moment. On the last night of their visit, I lost all patience. I started yelling at Lola. And you’d think I should know better than to yell when the poor person already was fixing you dinner. I was so mad that the two boys didn’t dare complain about the okra dish. I’m sure they would have turned up their noses just by looking at it.

But it’s not only impatience that was the culprit, it was also of feelings past, with exactly the same incident when I thought how my mom was intolerant with us, with me, over something that I didn’t quite get, or do, or couldn’t make the right decision, etc.. She’d yell and belittle us.

I’d swear that when I grew up, I’d never do what she did. And here I was, doing EXACTLY the same act. Only now, the recipient is my mom. What comes around goes around, as the saying goes. I feel rotten. But then I ask myself that when mom was doing such act, did she ever feel rotten after that? I asked that question because she never came up to apologize. Apology was never a comfortable word around the house when we were growing up. Neither hugs nor kisses.

I feel rotten because I allowed this negative attitude to take control of me, now in the present, when it should have been buried in the past, when I should know better than to repeat it. It took me two weeks to even bring the subject up.

I feel rotten because it took me this long to face up to it. Rotten moments that should never happen. Rotten moments can only heal when there’s apology. It is time, even how late, for me to call Mom and apologize here and now.

Finally, It’s amazing that mothers have a bond with their children, a bond that can either be strong, weak or none at all. The children still try to measure up to the parents, especially the Mom; no matter what the outcome of one’s upbringing has become.

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Strange Looking Man!

 Mr. Wonderful With Blinders!

The first time I saw him, I laughed so loud. He looked like he came right out from one of those sci-fi TV series, Twilight Zone. The series originated in the late 50’s into the 60’s. Boy that sounds old, huh! One episode, Time Enough At Last,  reminds of me of this man with glasses similar to what Mr. Wonderful is wearing. hahahahaha! The picture above shows him after he had his glaucoma test.

In one of my recent posts, I mentioned about my husband having eye infection called Keratitis that can seriously blind a person if not treated rather aggressively and quickly. Two weeks past, he had been complaining about not able to see even with eyeglasses and contact lenses together. Don’t ask me why he opted to use both at the same time. I kept telling him to go to a real eye doctor (an ophthalmologist) as opposed to an optometrist. But like a typical male, patience is not one of their virtues. Going to an ophthalmologist means (for him) wasting time sitting for minutes on end, while his eyes get measured and checked meticulously. But I think the real issue is having a person up close to your face examining you, that makes it uncomfortable for him.

So, his vision was getting worse and worse. He decided he needed go back to the same optometrist he has been seeing. After consulting with the vision insurance company, we were told that whatever visit beyond Mr. Wonderful’s January visit, coverage will not happen. Having to redo an eye exam and eyeglass prescription within a year will totally be the patient’s payment responsibility. Darn!

He’s been wearing contact lenses for over 30 years. The contact lens wearing is tied to the keratitis infection. Progressive lens eyeglasses are what he needs, which would eliminate the contact lens/eyeglass combo wearing that he had been practicing for the past 2 years. He hates the idea of wearing them for the mere fact he loses them constantly.

Anyway, the infection prognosis is encouraging. He’ll live! And he’s now looking forward to eyeglass wearing.

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Holy Kamote*!

Look at the size of the cap shawl!

 

The live stitches have been moved off the knitting needle and I spread it out on my queen-sized bed. The green print bedspread does not do justice to the green shawl, I know. But the shawl is almost the size of the bed! And that’s not counting the borders I have yet to finish. Plus, the blocking I need to do with it.

Reality check! At the rate I’m going, this will take me another month or two to complete it. #!^&*$%

It’s not that I have been goofing off from knitting. It’s not that I have been so slow. Oh wait, I now believe I’m such a slow knitter. It makes me want to hate you all fast-knitters!

Darn! Darn! Darn!

This project may have to be set aside since I have to get going with winter knitting. September is fast approaching and it’s time to take out the woolly yarn!

Note: You’d notice green is a color I gravitate to.  *Kamote (sounds like cayote) is an Asian term for a root vegetable.

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