Jinxed Trip and proof we are goddesses.

October 13

Jinxed Trip and Proof We're Goddesses

When I was younger, my grandma used to tell me, "The world does not revolve around you, you know."  When I was older and had a hard time not being anal, she'd say, "The world will not fall apart if you're not here for five minutes."

The former would always bring on a philosophical argument------The old "perceived reality" argument and the latter statement was one I held misgivings about.  "Proof is in the pudding," was another favorite saying and I now have a tangible argument that the world WILL fall apart if I'm not here.  Or at least the neighbourhood.

It started with a jinxed Thanksgiving trip and ended with a stupendous vet bill and a reshuffling of the house with some interesting answers about my health. 

Last Friday, our family packed up and prepared ourselves to drive to Trent Falls for Thanksgiving with my brother, the Sarcasm King' and his family.  I had been feeling unwell but I told the Mountain Man, "I don't care if I have to strap a bed to top of the car like Granny Hillbilly!!!  We are going.  I'm having a family cravings and I want to see my niece and nephews!"

My kids and I are never happier than when we are reading with Boston, discussing fashion with Morgan or tumbling with Mackenzie and Alex.    It's worth months of therapy to spend a weekend with them and all right, I enjoy the company of my sister-in-law and my brother.  (But don't tell my brother, he'll get a big head.)

So we planned on starting out at noon, to skip the traffic, and we should be there at 2:30-3:00.  Well that didn't happen.  I actually got out of the house at noon, (new record there.)  We discovered then that the Mountain Man had forgotten to renew the plates on the car.  Crap!!!  So we decided we should stop and renew them on the way but we have to have the emission test done and were only able to pick up a trip permit, a ten-day temporary plate sticker. 

(How do you go and renew your drivers licence and forget to renew your plates?)

Thanks to the bureaucratic red tape, it took nearly an hour to get back on the road.  Then I discovered that I had run out of medicine so we had to go pick that up.  We didn't get out of the city until almost 2 o'clock. 

The Mountain Man decided that we had to do the speed limit because there was a blitz this weekend.  (2500 speeding fines in Eastern Ontario alone.  That should help our provincial budget.)  I can see why people speed on Highway 7.  Even though MM was doing 110 km/h, (normally its 90 km/h on public highways, for our American friends.) cars were honking at us and giving us the finger.  Breyan and Caitlin taught Mischief to give the passing drivers a "High Five" in return for their one fingered waves.

Shortly down the road, Breyan and Caitlin informed us that they were hungry.  Usually we stop at Perth to get Tim Horton's but this time we stopped at a Fry Stand called "Grumpy's."  Their food is awesome.  If you're willing to eat "Trucker Food," you should stop here.  I haven't had a burger there in ages but every time I do, I promise myself to steal his recipe.  It's by the Speedway.

So we are going along, and of course, this is Ottawa, it starts to rain.  No problem, the car is warm, we are on a happy trip, what's a little rain?  Until we hear, "Thwap, Thwap, thwap."  It sounded like we were being buzzed by a helicopter.  I'm sure the guys know what this is,  a FLAT TIRE!!!  Isn't that peachy?  The Mountain Man pulls over to get the spare, which is buried under the mounds of luggage and my five pillows in the trunk.  We all pile out of the car and we wait for him fix it.  (NONE of us are allowed to help because this is the Mountain Man and he can take care of a little old thing like a flat tire on his own.) 

However he starts freaking out at Caitlin.  She was at least two feet in from the side of the road on the gravel but he's convinced that a manic trucker is going to swing over just to hit her.  He keeps telling us to go back, back and back until Caitlin and I are standing in the grass.  But it wasn't Grass!!!  It was burrs.    Of course I was wearing comfy pants, sweats and they are impossible to get burrs out of.  One burr got in a very uncomfortable place and I spent the trip scratching my butt.  With the Mountain Man in his green/orange hunting jacket, Breyan in his, "I'm a beggar" clothes and Caitlin and I in sweats, anyone seeing us would be forgiven for wondering which trailer park our postal code is in.

We stopped off at the Perth Timmy's to let the Mountain Man wash his hands and for Caitlin and I to try to pick off the worst of the burrs.  (The uncomfortable one was caught in my seat and I didn't find it until Trent Falls.)  There I discovered Ambrosia.  Timmy's has a new drink called a Hot Smoothie, hot milk with flavouring.  They are delicious.  Like melted ice cream!  Or maybe they just seemed that way because I was damp and cold and itchy.  I wouldn't recommend then to Katie Haynes, they are really sweet but when you've been trekking around in the damp, they are perfect.

So we were back on the road and doing good----until Marmora.  Marmora has the dumbest planners in the history of the world.  They decided to tear up the highway----on a holiday weekend!!!!  Not just one side, the whole highway for about a kilometer is potholes and washboard.  The Mountain Man hit one pothole so hard that my back went out.  The kids thought it was hilarious, they were doing the "Uh-h-h-h-h" singing that kids do on washboard roads but Mountain Man managed to find swearwords I haven't heard in years and I'm not sure that my grandpa, the sailor, knew.  This slowed down traffic to about two kilometers an hour and made the highway back up a good thirty minutes. 

Needless to say, we got into Trent Falls at 5:30.

  By this time, I'm really exhausted, my back is screaming and I'm Tylenol'ed to my eyebrows.  I took a nap and joyfully awaited my brother and his family.  They had said they'd be in at eight.  Sure enough they were late and the MM was ready to send out the OPP.  I told him that Toronto traffic would be bad but he wouldn't listen because, well, he's the MM and if you are five minutes late, you have probably been murdered by some psycho killer and are lying dead and mutilated on the side of the highway.

They got in at nine and the weekend was wonderful!  I spent lots of time with my niece and nephews and had a great visit.  We had Turkey on Sunday.  My sister-in-law is an amazing cook.  The turkey was beautiful and moist.  Other than the fact she cooked it upside down, I couldn't have done it better.  Though it is very, very hard for me to let someone else cook for me.  I know I can be a bit of a control freak but it drove me nuts not to be able to do anything in the kitchen.  My sis-in-law had lots of help, Caitlin, Jessica, the boys and had ordered me to rest but still, I paced a little bit. 

So I decided to go gather flowers for a centerpiece.  The hill beside the bridge was carpeted in Black Eyed Susan's.  Their yellow and black was a perfect foil for the greenery in the bushes out front.  I couldn't find a vase so I used the kids bug collector.  I made a grid of tape to hold the flowers since I didn't have any foam.  I entertained the fishing guys.  I got to the top of the hill, no problem.  However, I was wearing my sneakers and found that rain, mud and grass makes a very steep slope.  Butt over head, I went down the hill.  The fisher guys didn't even ask if I was okay!!!!  They just laughed their heads off.  I was hoping they'd laugh so hard they'd fall out of the boat! 

My brother, known to me as the Sarcasm King, when sis-in-law pointed it out, noted, "Great. Weeds in a bug jar.  There's a sophisticated centerpiece."  To which I could have replied, "We are using paper plates, serving the salad in a colandar, the potatoes on a near-black cookie sheet and you're criticizing the flowers?" 

But I didn't because I am a nice sister and don't criticize when we are "making do."  :P

One of the highlights of the visit was Doug trying to get rid of the flowers.  He went to dump them, without noticing the tape.  He spent a good five minutes shaking and jerking until it occurred to him to LOOK at the flowers.  I should have yelled that there was tape but I was giggling too hard.

The other highlight was when I was watching Teletubbies with Boston.  At the beginning of the show, they have these rabbits running around.  Being a good aunt, I asked, "What are those called?"

He confidently replied in his little baby voice, "Bunnies!!!!!  Boing! Boing! Boing!  Splat!  [sigh] Poor bunny."

I asked sis-in-law what he meant and she told me, "Drat, I thought he was asleep."  Warning to all parents, little ears catch everything!  Apparently the Sarcasm King hit a rabbit on his way to the cottage.  When Sis asked what happened, he replied, "Boing, Boing......."  

The worst moment came when I realized that I forgot Grandma's pants.  In May, she gave me a pair of pants to put a zipper in.  Since I've been overwhelmed with costumes and pretty ill, I hadn't had a chance to get them to her.  I had thought to bring them, with family pictures, give them to the Sarcasm King and my mum could pick them up there and deliver them.  Convoluted  planning but I'm good at that.  I did have the family pictures, I just forgot the pants.  I'll have to ship them.  I'm really sorry Gran and I will get them out.

So all in all, the trip was definitely worth it's travails yet I have to admit that I was looking forward to getting home to my own bed.  I got the car repacked, we were all ready to go when I realized I'd left my pillow in the house. 

Now you can't blame me for this.  The MM has a habit of deciding we are leaving and suddenly he turns into a drill sergeant getting raw recruits on the bus.  When he says we are leaving-------that's it.  No long goodbyes, no running around, get your hugs and get in the car. 

So when I discovered my pillow was missing I sent him back into the house to get it.  Unfortunately I'd mixed up the rooms that it was in.  The MM went in to get my flattened four dollar pillow and came out with my brothers' nice new fluffy pillow that he's very jealous of.  In all the huffle of leaving, I didn't notice I had the wrong pillow.  I'm not looking forward to confessing to my brother.  My only excuse is that Grandma gave my brother and me the same sheet sets so needless to say, I recognized the pillow case.

Anyway, we were off home and the kids and I had a discussion.  What would be wrong when we got home?  The last two trips have resulted in neighbours dying.  The first was Francis and the second was John.  We prayed that no one was dead this time. 

The kids also bickered all the way home.  "I'm getting the shower first!,"  "I get the internet first." etc....

I had to yell at them to "Shut Up!" over the shower thing.

Well, Mischief settled that argument.  Halfway through the trip Breyan said, "Mum.  I think Mischief is going to hurl." 

Before I could turn around----She did!  Right into Caitlin's lap.  (Breyan and Caitlin are planning on giving their Aunt Sis a long lecture on feeding dogs people food.) 

 Caitlin was a  total trooper about the whole thing.  Even after we dumped the mess on the side of the road she was laughing at how she looked like she wet herself.  Thanks to the holiday, we couldn't find an open restaurant for her to change her clothes for a full half-hour until we reached Perth.  The Tim Horton's of course.  (They must think we are the messiest people on the planet.  It was the same one where we cleaned up after the tire.)

Caitlin was really giggling as we tried to tie a sweater about her to leave a touch of dignity to get to the bathroom.  She got back in the car and I heard, "Breyan.  I don't care what you say, "I get the shower first!"

Breyan just sighed and answered, "Caitlin, I'll hold the door for you!  You Stink!!!"

We finally made it home in one piece.

We unpacked and waited for the knock on the door.  The one where someone comes and tells us who's dead now.  But it wasn't outside the house, it was our very own emergency.

Breyan went to unpack and came up crying, "Dad, look at Ariel!  What's wrong with her?" he was wailing.

Ariel had managed to chew off the fur on her back.  She looked so pathetic.  There was a huge patch missing and it was infected.  I got Caitlin to hold her on her lap while I cleaned the site to get a better look.  Then I gave Ariel some Benadryl so we could get her to the vet and to help her with the itching.

Ariel promptly threw up in Caitlins lap.  Again, Caitlin was such a trooper, she just looked up with tears in her eyes and said, "Mum, I don't care. I can take a shower but Poor Ariel."

(Caitlin did request I make her a pair of plastic pants for our next trip.)

Well, needless to say, it was a holiday and the vet was closed.  So we cleaned Ariel, got some more Benadryl down her and watched her to make sure she didn't scratch.  Don't even try to put socks or mittens on a cat's paws.  She shreds them in no time.

The MM, the big tough man that he is, told us that we should just take her to the hunt camp and shoot her.  I would have been really offended except he spent the rest of the night getting up every two hours to "Just check," on her and slipped her an entire can of salmon.

The next day we got Ariel to the vet.  He told us it was probably a flea or mite and that we needed to put her on antibiotics, take a skin scraping and biopsy as well as shave off her fur and give her a new application of Revolution, the flea drops that go on the neck.  Ariel was very unimpressed with this plan.  It was murder getting her inside the cat cage.  I have an inch deep scratch on my shoulder to prove it. 

You see, Ariel NEVER goes outside.  The only time she's been out of the house is her check-ups at the vet.  So she told us loud and clear what she thought of the matter.  You could hear her complaints two houses down and she was in the locked car.  We also stopped at PetSmart to pick her up some treats.  Afraid to leave her in the car on her own we thought we'd bring her in with us, (PetSmart allows that) and give her a break from the cage.  Bad Idea.

People in the store were giving me mean looks like I was murdering her.  Kids were asking, what's wrong with the cat and Ariel drove her nails straight into my shoulder.  I can believe that cats can hold themselves upside down on the ceiling, she was riveted right in to the bone.  Finally we brought her back out to the car and tried to  put her back in the cage. 

 We ended up gathering a crowd as people found it highly entertaining to watch the fight.  (Gives "catfight" a whole new meaning.)  One smart-butt called out, "Who do you think is going to win?  The cat or the girl?"  

My loving supporting hubby chuckles and calls back, "My money's on the cat."

Well now we have to give Ariel an antibiotic pill twice a day.  This is a contest of wills......and Ariel is winning.  I look like I've slept in briar patch.   They gave me this device that looks like a ten inch needle that ends in rubber.  The idea is to open Ariels mouth and shove it w-a-y back in her throat until she has to swallow it.  In fact, it looks like those things that come with yeast infection cures.  It's not a nice looking apparatus and everytime Ariel sees me with it she runs. 

 I've discovered that it takes three people to give her a pill.  One to hold her down and grab the paws, one to pry open her mouth and one to insert the pill.  Which is fine at night but in the morning, everybody is gone by the time I wake up. They are supposed to wake me up before they leave but they 'conveniently' forget. 

Between the pill wrestling and the fact that Ariel is shaved in patches, kind of looks like a reverse mohawk, you would not recognize the normally arrogant and disdainful littly putty-tat.  The only way to put it, She looks pathetic and if she could people talk, she would doing Queen Victoria imitations, "We are not amused."

Sis also came home to disturbing news.  It was not our neighbours in danger by our absence.  The little old lady who lives next door to them was in the hospital.  She fell and broke a couple of ribs.  When she woke in hospital, she had a stroke!  

Sis wrote me and wondered if it was fair for our family to get together anymore but I'm not giving up my "family fix."  I told her that she would just have to understand my long held personal conviction that, "The world DOES fall apart if we are not there!!!!"  We are goddesses--she should get used to it.  

The last news is that I went for my doctor's appointment and apparently there is a node in my thyroid which is shutting my thyroid down.  I couldn't believe the numbers.  No wonder I"ve been having such a hard time.  

This is the list the website gave me and I've managed all but two.  I was convinced I was just getting old.  I got a kick out of the pamphlet the doctor gave me. It actually says that hypothyroidism is often mistaken as signs of aging.

Symptoms of Hypothyroidism
Fatigue
Weakness
Weight gain or increased difficulty losing weight
Coarse, dry hair
Dry, rough pale skin
Hair loss
Cold intolerance (can't tolerate the cold like those around you)
Muscle cramps and frequent muscle aches
Constipation
Depression
Irritability
Memory loss
Abnormal menstrual cycles
Decreased libido
 

So the doctor has doubled my Synthroid and has taken a needle biopsy of the node.  Apparently you can have surgery to sort it out and if I do, I will just pop down to Toronto. 

I'm glad to know that I'm not nuts or worse, a hypochondriac.  I was actually worried about that.  When they keep giving you, "We don't know," "We need a few more tests" and "It could be stress." You really start second-guessing yourself.  (Not like I need help doing it.)

--

Well, now I have to scrub the house and make sure that whatever fleas managed themselves into the house are gone.  We also had the vet give Mischief a thorough going over but she's got a clean bill of health.  She's also had two flea baths so I still wonder where they came from?  MM's money is on Breyan's friends.

I am also praying that the specialist doesn't think I'm a basket case when I show up with bald spots, flaky skin, missing eyebrows and inch-deep claw marks all over my body.  I think I'll just tell him I have an interesting sex life.  If I have to go Toronto for the surgery, I'll take Caitlin and she can show up in rubber pants.  Gonna give the doctor a heart attack or very interesting dinner conversation for the next few months.