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December 2014

The New Doctor for a New Year

I needed a new doctor.  For those of you following, I’m sure you realize all the medical complications this year (and then some) has brought me.  I received a few recommendations and picked one.

The whole three day ordeal of my first consultation began when I spent several hours conversing back and forth between the insurance company and the doctor’s office in the attempt to procure a covered appointment.  All worked out, and I had an appointment for the next afternoon.

That morning I started having panic attacks, because that’s what I do.  These were graciously interrupted by a hilarious episode of George attacking the old medicine cabinet on the back porch.  Unfortunately, he heard me go get the camera, so he quit before I could embarrass him.

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By that afternoon, I was a nervous wreck.  But I made it to the office, through the paper work, the waiting, and the telling of my life story to the pre-doctor nurse.  I haven’t understood those nurses for several years because all the doctors seem to ask you all the same questions again, so what’s the point?  But I digress.  The doctor finally arrived, almost an hour later.  He seemed real attentive and as though he were putting forth his best effort, so I most certainly didn’t mind the wait.  He listened well, taking in details, asking questions, and having answers for me.  So far, so good.  I was sent for lab work and to make another appointment first thing the next morning for an echocardiogram.

Thankfully, by the time I went for lab work, I was all kicks and giggles.  I warned the female nurse that my veins didn’t like to be poked.  While she was torturing me, I told her to be thankful she didn’t have to do me like I had to do the cows when I pregnancy check them.  (We have to lift their tail and insert a needle between the vertebrate catching a vein that runs down the tail.  It’s a joyous process for all involved.)  Here is a video for the truly curious.  Otherwise, please skip ahead.

Back to me with the nurses.  I warned her, and I knew what to expect, but it still frustrated her.  She tried both arms.  She failed both times.  I offered to bend over and lift my tail in the air for her.  She declined.

She called the male nurse to come help.  I didn’t think it appropriate to offer to bend over for him, so I told him about George and the mirror from that morning.  Shortly thereafter, the female nurse asked him if I told him about the cows.  So I explained to him the procedure.  I also told him that I offered to lift my tail up for her, at which point he got the giggles and asked her why she didn’t do it.  She said, “There are limits to this job.”  But neither one could stop laughing.  He finally succeeded, ending the torture, and I was on my way.

This morning I concluded this escapade with my first ever echocardiogram.  I had to lay on my side on a bed with a trap door with my arm over my head and goo all over my chest.  They made me do weird things I don’t want to talk about.  Ever.  Then I rolled onto my back and sniffed through my nose twice, took deep breaths and held them, leaned my head back, and took shallow breaths.  I was not allowed to talk during the whole procedure.  It was unequivocally weird.

I’m home now, obviously, writing about my day.  Why?  Well, if for no other reason, to give you a chuckle.  But also because now you can take this story and tell it to your nurse friends or offer to bend over and lift your tail when they take your blood.

Have a good New Year!  I hope it’s better than the last one!!!

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Never announce you’re Jewish next to a bunch of skin heads

For those of you who didn’t read my Happy Hanukkah post, you probably will after this.  Long story short, we found ourselves eating out on Christmas day at a hibachi table.  The family seated with us were all smiles and having fun.  And then…

The chef puts those two little shrimp on Marcus’s plate.  I was watching the shrimp.  I knew most hibachis do that, so I was keeping an eye on them just in case.  But it was lunch, not dinner.  I wasn’t really sure they would.  Besides, they always ask first, right?  Nope.

I look down to take a bite, and since the chef had always served the other family first, I thought I was safe.  Instead, he served Marcus first.  Well of course he doesn’t know how to handle it, so I just say, “Oh no no.  No shrimp.  Thank you, no.”  He doesn’t understand.  He’s not very fluent.  This doesn’t bother me in the least bit.  I’m all smiles and just say, “We’re Jewish.  No thank you.”  This confused him more.  I guess it was like him asking me if it was the year of the dragon, and for all I know that belongs to a different culture anyway.  I completely understood and wasn’t the least bit offended.

After we finally got him to understand that neither I nor my husband wanted it either, to give it to the other family, I went over and picked up the shrimp on Marcus’s plate and placed them in a napkin on the table.  So what?  What’s the big deal?

The big deal is that the family next to us never even looked at us the whole time until I said, “We’re Jewish.”  At that time, the family that was all smiles and fun (at least with themselves) turned their horrified stares at me, and then my family.  They never smiled again, and in fact we apparently completely ruined their evening.  The scoffs and stares of pure disgust they gave us made me realize that their tattoos may have meant something a little more than at first glance.  I honestly thought we were going to have to defend ourselves, but we didn’t.  Thankfully, the chef never caught on.  Again, just like in my Happy Hanukkah post, I wasn’t wearing my necklace (or a giant banner across my head), so I guess this was all my fault again, huh?

Wishing you a Happy Hanukkah

Pick your choice spelling of Channukah and insert above.

So, we went out today, which I hate doing this time of year, and made some people pretty mad.  Why?  Because we wished them a Happy Hannukah.  We celebrate Chanukkah, not Christmas.  And every year we are bombarded by people declaring Christmas for their God, whether it is or not.

We walk into a store with signs and lights and red people swinging bells screaming at us “Merry Christmas” as loud as they can in complete defiance of anyone who walks by.  Most people ignore them.  Some throw money at them, and then you get the few angry ones that say LOUDLY, “Thank you so much for saying ‘Merry Christmas.’  I think it’s awful how some people get offended over everything.”  Oh really?

The first stop we came to was the bakery.  The people there usually say nothing to you, ever.  They take your bread, ring your bread, take your money, hand you your bread.  You’re lucky to get a response to your “thank you” when you leave.  That’s not a problem for me.  But today, they were screaming, yes screaming, “Merry Christmas” as many times as they could to every person in line.  This is in rebellion to some stores’ policies of “Happy holidays.”

Today is the 22nd.  It is the seventh night of Hanukkah.  It is not Christmas.  It is not Christmas Eve.  Granted, I wasn’t wearing my necklace, but I doubt it would have mattered.  So when I was screamed at, I said, “And you have a happy Hanukkah!”  They were not happy.  One would say they were down right offended.  Hmm…  They probably thought I was being smart, and I was.  I should have just ignored them and gone on.  But technically, I was in the right.

So then we went to walmart (yes, walmart-judge me later) where we were attacked by a red person with a bell.  Again, her agenda was as mentioned before, and we would have felt attacked no matter what she yelled because she wanted money.  It’s like passing by the Girl Scouts.  When we left, we were screamed a “Merry Christmas!”  I nicely said, “Happy Hannukah.” back.  She got mad!  I doubt she knew it was Hannukah.  And no, I shouldn’t have done it then either.  I should have just ignored her, maybe even rolled my eyes, but I didn’t.  I’m sorry.

So, why do I hate christmas so much?

I don’t.

If you are a pagan celebrating Yule, go for it.  I’ll even wish you a happy Yule Tide.  But taking someone else’s holiday and slapping a sticker with your God’s name on it does not make it His holiday.  In fact Deuteronomy 12 is pretty much full of “don’t do this”.

Verse 30:  Guard yourself that you are not ensnared to follow them, after they are destroyed from before you, and that you do not inquire about their mighty ones, saying, “How did these nations serve their mighty ones?  And let me do so too.”

Verse 31: Do not do so to YHVH your Elohim, for every abomination which YHVH hates they have done to their mighty ones, for they even burn their sons and daughters in the fire to their mighty ones.

In other words, don’t worship God the way other religions worship their god.  It’s that simple.  So, several hundred years ago, like, over 1000, the Saxons started converting to Christianity whether by choice or force.  They didn’t want to change their traditions, so they slapped a different name on it and changed nothing else.  Well…

Mark 7:7-9 “And in vain do they worship Me, teaching as teachings the commands of men.  Forsaking the command of Elohim, you hold fast the tradition of men.”  And He said to them, “Well do you set aside the command of Elohim, in order to guard your tradition.”

Seems pretty clear and cut to me.  Giving up christmas was harder than the other pagan holiday of easter for me.  Mainly because of family.  Everyone expects you to give them a gift, and they’re going to give you one, so you better do it.  But I did it, and I have raised our son without a single pagan holiday in our God’s name.  My husband even converted after several years of marriage.  He fought hard those years.  He knew he needed to change and didn’t want to.  It’s easier for him now.

Most people know the truth about the pagan holidays, but they don’t care.  They want to celebrate it, so they do, slapping a bigger and bolder sticker on it every year hoping it will change what it cannot.  They will continue to put their traditions and desires over God’s forever I guess.  But that’s their problem, not mine.  I just wish they’d stop trying to convince themselves that it’s OK.  Because the more they try to, the more annoying it is to those of us around them getting screamed at.

So the next time you hear “Jesus is the reason for the season”, you’ll know I’m wanting to tell them to save it for Passover, because that’s when He was crucified.  Messiah had nothing to do with christmas, and never will.  When they say “I’m keeping the Christ in CHRISTmas,” they’re only showing their vast ignorance and choice of their own desires over God’s.  I just shake my head and keep walking.

Simple, Hearty Soup (Cheap!)

We found these soups on sale At Krogers the other day.  We bought a bunch of different ones.  Some veg, some chicken, some beef, and some mixed.  The sirloin is the best.  The meat is edible, and it actually tastes good.  A lot of the chicken ones were too runny to use, so keep that in mind.  I probably spent $2 feeding everyone (three people) a filling meal.

PB122295

I use little 5” ramekins for baking single servings of casseroles.  It lets me make a casserole for one more cheaply without a bunch of leftovers.  This is great if it’s something only I like, or if I want to be all fancy like.  As you can see, here’s what it looks like.  That’s not spices on top, it’s soup or something.  Who knows what it is in my kitchen!

PB122298

Now, I divided the soup equally into three ramekins.  That may not be enough soup for some, but was the perfect amount for the biscuit topping.

The biscuit is made this way:

  • 4T butter
  • 2c flour
  • 2t baking powder
  • 1/2t salt
  • 3/4c milk

Mix the unmelted butter and flour together until crumbly.  The butter should be completely mixed.  I use my hand, it goes quickly and easily that way.  Add baking powder and salt, mix well.  Add milk and stir until combined.  Divide into three and glop the dough onto the top of each soup filled ramekin.

Don’t let the dough be too thick, or it won’t cook all the way through.  Dividing into 2 servings instead of three is almost too much biscuit, and almost too much for the ramekin,.

Bake at 400F for 20 minutes.  Serve on plates because that ramekin is HOT!

PB122299

I hope you enjoy this recipe as much as we do!

Sometimes you have to pat your own back

I kept getting really upset and aggravated every time someone interrupted or “bothered” me, so I decided to log my day and see what happens exactly. You know, whether or not I really have the right to be upset and all.

During the week, I disallow myself to think of anything other than school with Marcus until it’s over, spend 60-90 minutes working out vigorously, and then do all those normal things like eating, cleaning, taking care of chickens. You know, normal stuff. If I’m lucky, I watch TV a bit. There is also about 1 weekday that I spend moving my dad, aka, spending all day driving to Knoxville, going through things, packing a vehicle and trailer, driving home, and unpacking. I then get to go through said things in my spare time.

I used to spend hours a day during the week writing. Now that my toe is no longer broken, I spend that time on other things.

The weekend is still devoted to writing. I know I shouldn’t on Sabbath, but I do. I don’t feel guilty about it either. I love writing, even the hard parts. I’m sure if I ever make money doing it, and therefore do it during the week as a job, I’ll void the Sabbaths. So today, my Sabbath, I make a journal. And here it is:

Get up, eat breakfast, watch TV

9:00-organize my new Twitter followers, tweet, read tweets, etc.  Get interrupted by Marcus wanting to use my laptop

9:20-enter online contest (that I’ve been writing all week), including last minute polishing.  Marcus asks for laptop again

9:45-critique enough works on Scribophile to be make up for all the points I just spent entering the contest. Get interrupted by Marcus for quite some time.

11:20-lunch

11:33-finish critiques

12:10-take a break. This includes playing a level of Minecraft on PS3 made by Marcus that he was telling me about earlier (see 9:45)

1:15-get into the mood for writing

1:30-write, and get interrupted by large argument, solve family crises

2:40-over 1000 words written

3:45-read others’ critiques on my contest entry, attempt to edit, fail miserably, realize I wrote a thank you message to the wrong person who critiqued me

4:00-eat supper and watch TV, gather kindling after dark for fire tonight, solve another argument between my two children (my husband and child)

6:15-get back into the mood of writing

8:30-I have written over 3000 words, including the ending. I have a chapter in the middle that needs writing, and then my rough draft will be complete. I’m hoping by tomorrow night.

Now, what have I learned from this? I have every right to get frustrated by my interruptions, but I will still strive to maintain composure. You know, after looking at this schedule, I should be pretty darn proud of myself. I think I’m going to spend my evening trying to change my attitude of griping, to being proud of myself. Sure wish I had a gold sticker from someone though-pout. Oh wait-here I go!

That’s right! I’m awesome! I am an amazing multitasker and mother!

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