A trip or 5 to the DMV

When we moved to Maryland, there were all kinds of fun things to do. Get settled in our dumpy apartment infested with Rhaphidophoridae, find jobs, and get our cars all legalled up.

So, Hub and I walk into a bar the MVA (which is Marylandish for DMV - or MVD if you only speak Arizonian) and the bartender lady at the triage desk says what are you in for? what are you in for?

Forbidden Desire

Just the thought of you fills me with desire.

In my mind's eye? It's just the two of us. Alone. Away from prying, judgmental eyes.

I breathe deeply...and the smell of you is subtle, but intoxicating.

I close my eyes and I can still see you.

We have a wicked chemistry, you and me.

I imagine having you all to myself. That in this moment? You are mine.

All of you.

Feeling Cantankerous

Today is not going as I had hoped. I need an outlet so that I don't explode or cry. Neither of which is seen as particularly professional.

And since it's officially a bloggy boycott day? I feel today would be the perfect day to chuck the (possibly) interesting post I had in mind and just go for the vent since my 7 readers will not be reading today anyway.

An Open Letter to the Evil Head Cold From Hell

Dear Evil Head Cold From Hell (EHCFH),

Your Christmas arrival was most unwelcome. The fact that you keep finding new and inventive ways to torment me? Also very unwelcome. You & I need to part ways, EHCFH, because this is just not working out between us.

In fact? You're just pissing me off at this point.

Stowing my emotional baggage

Recently, Kris from Pretty All True wrote a post that really got me thinking. It was a very deep and touching post about her differing experiences as a mother to her two daughters. If you have not already read it, you should.

Yes, I'll hold.

::hold music plays::

Development of Important Instincts

My stepdaughter is not the healthiest of kids. Honestly? If she is not loaded up with mucus I'm surprised.

We believe that she, like Hub, has asthma and that it is reactive to allergens. Personally, I think it is mold. Much the same way Hub develops Wheeze-a-palooza whenever he visits his mother's house, Princess tends to develop nasty, phlegmy coughs whenever she has spent any length of time in their house.

More reason for her to not be in over-indulgence central...but I digress...

So, every time she spends any time at their house, she starts coughing like a 3-pack a day smoker. It's gross. Plus? There's not a whole lot we can do to help her. More often than not, she's not "ill" in the sense that we could give her antibiotics or something. She just gets more breathing treatments and some cough medicine before bed.

We have also discovered another exacerbating factor. And this discovery has shocked me with its weight. I had no idea that such developments occurred so early in life.

We have discovered that when she hacks up her considerable mucus, she does nothing with it....and this lack of dealing with it leads her to gag. Usually late at night while she's in bed. Which is fun for all involved, with the cleanup and sheet changing and late-night laundry.

So, Hub then has to have a conversation with her. "Princess (he uses her real name - Gertrude), if you cough something up, you need to either swallow it or spit it out."

Who knew that "spit or swallow" was determined so early in life? Because really, you can't just leave it sitting in your mouth or it will so make you gag.

She still hasn't gotten this concept. And her sitting with a bunch of phlegm in her mouth? Is also making me gag.

So My MIL Drugged My Husband and Other Christmas Happenings

Christmas this year was quite the experience. As usual, we had to have several different Christmas celebrations.

My Father-in-Law's family is all in North Carolina. And they drive down every year to visit the family. So, they come visit us before hand so we can open gifts with them and send the NC gifts with them. That was the weekend before Christmas.

Then, we have my Mother-in-law's family. She is one of 5 sisters - 4 out of 5 of whom have multiple kids. And some of the kids are starting to pair off & have kids. So this celebration of 40 of our closest family members takes place on Christmas night in the great-grandparents' 2-bedroom house in the ass-crack of West Virginia. Seriously, I think I heard banjos on our drive in...a few miles down the dirt road to their house.

The fun part? Happened on Christmas Eve. My MIL's house is, um, not fastidiously cared for. When re-doing upstairs bedrooms? They knocked out a load-bearing wall. And they had some roof leaks which left the boxes in one room green and fuzzy before they got around to fixing it. So, yeah, they're a little blase' about stuff.

Hub also has asthma. His asthma was great in Arizona. Never saw the man use an inhaler once in the 2 years we lived there together. Once we got here? The inhaler came back. And whenever we visit his mother's? Wheeze-a-palooza. We think it's the mold.

So, we show up Christmas Eve to do our family gift exchange with them. Almost immediately upon arrival, we are plied with wine. Ok. I'm fine with that. A little bit later, Hub walks in with 2 pills. "What are you taking?" I ask.

"My mom gave me some allergy pills..." he says, washing them down with the wine.

"Ok, probably good since we forgot your inhaler."

About 45 minutes later, we head out to the porch so Hub can have a cigarette. He looks a little off. "Are you feeling ok?" I ask.

"I feel a little dizzy." He says. "I think it was the wine..."

"One glass of wine & you're dizzy? Puss." I scoff.

After a few minutes he says "I really don't feel well...I feel really light-headed & dizzy..."

At this point, MIL's expression changes a bit. She excuses herself. She comes back & informs us that she may have given Hub her anti-depressants instead of allergy medication. Being that she keeps them both in the same bottle & all.

WTF.

By this point, Hub is laying in my lap all non-verbal. He has mumbled that his heart is beating fast & he's short of breath. We call the emergency nurse line & they tell us we need to get him up & walking around.

Oh, and if he stops breathing or collapses, we should go to the ER.

WTF?!

He doesn't want to walk around. He's nauseated and wants to stay horizontal and immobile. Also? He hates going to the doctor.

I inform him that he will either get up & walk around with me...or I will enlist the aid of his grizzled old redneck Vietnam vet stepfather to wrastle him into the car and he will go to the ER. "Don't fuck with me," I tell him. "You're already poisoned, you won't be able to put up much of a fight...."

So, we walked around the block several times. He started feeling a little better.

I knew he'd be fine when he started arguing with me on the way home.

Oh, and I got a neat head cold for Christmas. Pfft.