what do a hatchett and a squirt bottle have in common?

The answer is: not a lot. Unless you have to get your ear flushed out. Then the connection is painful yet clear. Today at the health center I was positively dapper. I made doctors and nurses and even the stuffy ladies who check you in laugh. Not just a chuckle, these were good ol' jolly belly laughs. I was on FIRE. And this was because I definitely did NOT want any one of these fine people to attach a syringe to a tube to a squirt bottle, fill said squirt bottle with luke warm water, and then shove the syringe into my ear, squeezing the squirt bottle with such force that it would feel like Niagra Falls just set up shop in my ear canal. I thought I could charm them out of it. I almost did. But I got suckered in with their promises of US Weekly Magazine and a nice lounge chair covered in wax paper. I will know better next time.

Ear flushing is a terrifying thing. But it is real funny if the nurse starts saying things like, "Honey, I know they don't give out trophies for this sort of thing, but they should. Because you'd get the lot of them." And, "I've never, in all my days, seen something like this." That, my friends, is not something you ever want to hear coming out of a health professional's mouth. But the good thing is that my hearing is now so crisp, I can practically hear an ant tiptoeing three miles away!

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hello kitty hospital!

dreams DO come true!!!!!!!! i am both amazed and traumatized by the following image:

"Hospital director Tsai Tsung-chi opened the themed institution last year in the hopes that the familiar cartoon cat would help ease mothers' pain and stress of childbirth." my pain would be eased for sure.

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spring!

it's going to be a whole 53 degrees today! there is sun and melting snow and yesterday the children across the way were even out playing on the jungle gym! the saddest day of all will be when winter butts it's big fatty face in to say psych!

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Uni's UNITE!

Fact: I woke up to no fewer than five emails containing the following image this morning.

Each person wanted to make sure that I knew about the cavorting unicorn displayed in the upper left hand part of the image. Some of the emails were timestamped as early as 6:00 AM! Meaning that as an email, it ranked somewhere between "Very Important" to "Ultra Imperative." I really don't know how I got to be the lucky girl who receives daily emails about kittens riding Roombas, unicorns spraying rainbows about, or pandas climbing plastic toys, but I am so flattered because they are the highest expression of love. So please keep those precious gems coming! {Seriously. I live for them.}

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Jalapeno Holla

It started out well enough, my foray into the intricate world of jalapeno/green onion cornbread. It was Superbowl Sunday. My supper group was coming over but since we don't own a TV that works, I thought I'd try to at least recreate Superbowl Atmosphere. That meant, of course, chips, salsa, chili, cornbread (and a homemade plum tart, because what Superbowl Sunday is complete without a little Martha Stewart?) So while the Steelers were busy running circles around the Cardinals for the first quarter, I followed my recipe exactly. That meant 3 Tablespoons of chopped jalapenos.

I don't know if you are aware of this fact but jalapenos are spicy. Actually, let me be precise: they're mean little suckers that can (and will) blister any bare skin they touch. I found this out the hard way. What happened is that I finished de-seeding the things, chopping them up into cute little pieces, washing my hands, etc., etc. Then I made the apparently life-threatening decision to wipe my mouth. 0.5 seconds after contact my lip started swelling like Macauly Culkin's face in the hit movie My Girl. It was funny at first, until it started blistering (about 2 seconds after contact). Literally.

Here are some things that don't help jalapeno burns:
1. Water (the capsaicin does not dissolve in water. I repeat: does not dissolve in water.)
2. Frozen peas still in their package.
3. Frozen potato bits clamped over burned area
4. Milk (the internet doctor lied)
5. Yogurt (because who doesn't like smearing yogurt about one's face?)
6. Tears
7. Panic
8. Talking about burned area
9. Ice water (see number 1)
10. Rubbing alcohol

Here is what does:
1. Carmax
2. Nerves of Steel

*Also, don't worry, the cornbread came out like a dream come true!

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Breaking Up Is Hard to Do

It was midmorning and it was cold. I was uncomfortable for many reasons, one of them being that it was about 95 degrees in the room and I was still wearing my winter coat. Shifting in my chair I kept my voice even and gentle, repeating cliched truisms:

"It's not you, it's me."
"You'll be better off without me. You'll see. Really."
Even: "If you love something let it go..."

He sighed, rubbed the bridge of his nose (discreetly wiping away a tear or two, I'm sure), and told me no less than five stories about how he had changed lives. Real lives. Lives from Vietnam, Canada, West Africa, even Des Moines. This is true love, people: commitment, integrity, communication, honor.

I nodded. I stiffled my urge to bolt. This was worse than a lot of breakups I've had.

This, of course, was the charade I had to suffer through in order to drop a class here at good ol' U of I. None of that faceless Internet nonsense. Why should you be able to simply click "Add" or "Drop" in order to add or drop a course when you can have increasingly awkward encounters with professors who will 1) try to guilt trip you into staying in their class 2) look personally offended that you want to drop their course and/or 3) walk you to the door with a wounded air and, martyr-like, shake your hand with one of the dreaded limp-fish-hands? All of this for one shabby signature on a piece of green paper that needs an actual litany of different administrative signatures (professor of dropped class, professor of added class, advisor, dean of college, mother of dean of college, best friend in first grade, pony you once wanted but never received, etc.)

So in honor of my course breakups this semester I leave you with the unparalleled break up song by the hit band Nazareth:

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my sister, my hero

my sister is amazing in many respects (one of the major ones being that she is my sole provider of hit books like the babysitters club and sweet valley high). but one of the major ones is her sweet blog, the meanest mom. she even got on the news about it! you can watch it(and my super awesome nephews and niece) here.

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