June 18, 2009 - Posted by amazingzipperedwoman- 3 Comments
Nothing is ever simple. I’ve been experiencing diminished sight in my right eye for several months. At my last eye appointment, the doctor confirmed that I do indeed have cataracts. It is my understanding that these were probably caused by taking Prednisone. So I can add cataracts (on both eyes) to all the other wonderful things this drug has added to my life - hump back, hair-loss, facial hair, big belly, ugly red marks all over my arms, and also a bad attitude. Or so Tom says. Can you tell I’m pissed and a little discouraged. Monday I went for a pre-surgery cataract evaluation. The young girl who was doing most of the tests kept doing one test over and over. I kept asking if there was a problem and she kept assuring me that there was no problem. She finally announced that she couldn’t put dilation drops in my eyes until the doctor had checked something. I started to get a real strange feeling, so I went to the waiting room and asked Tom to join me in the examination room.
The doctor came in and the following are exact quotes - from his lips to my keyboard. “The cataract on your right eye has become dangerously large.” As my heart started beating dangerously fast, he added, “If I dilated your eyes right now you could go into a glaucoma attack and be blind in less than 24 hours.” Tom and I sat there open-mouthed - simply stunned. He asked the receptionist to get me an appointment with a glaucoma specialist a.s.a.p. We came home and I spent two days trying to process this information. I just kept picturing myself feeling the faces of my grandchildren as they grow because I will be blind. I know it sounds like I’m having a pity party, but keep in mind that I’m the lady who went under the knife for “simple” bypass surgery and came out of said surgery having lost 65% of my healthy heart tissue. So - my track record ain’t the greatest.
My appointment was at 9:30 a.m. this morning and at 11:00 a.m. I was still seated in the waiting room. Pissed doesn’t even begin to describe my anger. The good news is that I really liked the doctor. He will be doing laser surgery on both my eyes. The laser will burn a small hole in each eyeball to create a new drain and thus relieve the pressure behind my eyes. We will attack the cataracts when the laser surgeries are over. He said that after surgery, I will no longer have Glaucoma and will be as good as new. I’ve heard that old song and dance before, but I do have confidence in this guy.
When I checked out I was told that my copay was $60.00. I promptly wrote a check for $35.00. Then the money taker lady said that I had misunderstood the amount I owed. I quietly explained that I charge $25.00 for waiting, and that I had waited for over an hour-and-a-half. I told her she should be happy that I gave her a half-hour freebie. She didn’t say one word. I also wrote “Paid in full” on my check. As I was gathering my things to leave, it did dawn on me that I had just refused to pay the guy who would soon be cutting holes in my eyeball with a laser.
He must have over heard the whole exchange, because as I opened the door to leave he approached me, gave me a small hug, and said, “Don’t worry about a thing. I appreciate a woman with attitude.” Phewwwwww.
June 12, 2009 - Posted by amazingzipperedwoman- 3 Comments
For those who have not seen the movie, let me explain the concept of a “Bucket List.” This is a compilation of wishes or adventures that an individual hopes to experience before he/she “kicks the bucket.” (I’m impressed with myself. That was a tremendous pun.) By way of illustration, I’m going to share with you ten of my Bucket List entries. Just let me reach in and grab a few.
Okay, here we go. Remember - these are just samples. Also the following are not arranged in any particular order.
#1
Someday I want to flag down a car that contains a passenger who I have witnessed throwing trash out the window. I want to drag said passenger out of the car by his/her ear. Once removed from the vehicle, I shall scream, “I don’t want to live in your trash.” I’ll follow this statement with a spray of spit aimed at the eye of the offender.
#2
I want to spend some time in Darfur and Gaza easing pain and letting these people know that Americans do care.
#3
I want to live one week as a thin person - eating whatever I want without being riddled with guilt.
#4
I want to have “a little something” done to my eyes so that my eyelids are once again visible instead of being hidden in the folds between my wrinkles.
#5
I want to take my whole family on a cruise for at least a week - just eating, drinking and spending quality time together.
#6
I want to go on the Oprah show and talk about organ donation.
#7
I want to meet my donor family so I can share with them some pictures of me doing things that would have been impossible without their wonderful gift. For example dancing at my daughter’s weddings, watching my son graduate and hugging my grandchildren.
#8
I want to go on a photo safari.
#9
I want to put my tongue in Tom Selleck’s ear.
#10
I want to apologize to Georgia Kirksey for putting a dead mouse down her shirt when I was seven years old.
That’s enough for now. Why don’t you use the “comment” option on this blog and share a few of your bucket list dreams with my dear readers.
June 2, 2009 - Posted by amazingzipperedwoman- 0 Comments
On Saturday, Judy (of jam fame) and I hosted a bridal shower for little Maren. I arrived at Judy’s house Friday afternoon for party preparation followed by an old-fashioned girlie overnight. (Yes, we talked about boys and made crank calls.) Judy is a gourmet cook and no culinary delight is too much for her to tackle. I, on the other hand, am not a gourmet cook. During the past thirty years I have been able to provide adequate nutrition to grow three children to adulthood. I’ve been able to throw together enough meals to cause stoutness in both myself and the Big Irishman. But “GOURMET” I’m not. I might add that baking is out of the question. My idea of “baking” is picking up the phone and ordering baked goods from bakers who actually know how to bake.
You can imagine my dismay when Judy suggested that we make cream puffs and chocolate-dipped strawberries for dessert. I was under the impression that there are bushes that grow chocolate-dipped strawberries. After several glasses of wine, I reluctantly agreed.
We assembled the necessary ingredients and settled in for an afternoon of cream puffing. I expected Judy to pull pre-formed puffies out of her cupboard, but was sadly disappointed when she started dumping stuff into two pans on the stove. All I can say about the first stage of the process is that it is absolutely essential to stir the hell out of the dough as it’s cooking. It resembled concrete and I’m positive that my right breast is now twice the size of my left breast because my right hand was used to stir said concrete.
I call this pic, “puff dough splops.”
Pre-pudding puffs.
Perfect puffs surrounded by beautiful berries.
I can now say that I, Shanlee, have truly given birth to cream puffs. I don’t remember ever being so proud.
May 28, 2009 - Posted by amazingzipperedwoman- 2 Comments
I have been postless much longer than anticipated. That “whine/wine” flu hit me really hard - actually it knocked me on my ass.
This is what greeted me when I looked in the mirror this morning. My pink nose bothers me the most. Seriously, I haven’t been on top of the world. Three weeks ago I began noticing several lumps on my right leg. As the days went by, the area around these welts became redder and redder. Then one morning I awakened to find a welt above my left eye. In panic mode, I made a Doctor’s appointment. After tests, I was diagnosed with a drug-resistant, systemic staph infection. It apparently settled in the valves in my leg. (I didn’t even know that legs had valves. Can one turn these valves on and release fat?) Because the infection was drug resistant, I had to take two of the new “super antibiotics.” The big fear was that the staph might possibly attack Perpetua. Let me tell you that these pills are called “super” because they make you super sick, but I had no other options I just have two days of medication left. Boo Hoo. It sucks to be me.
June 9, 2008 - Posted by amazingzipperedwoman- 2 Comments
I read an article last week about simple little things every American can do to be more “GREEN.” Why not. I can attempt to do these few little things for the environment. Might even reduce my “carbon footprint” - whatever the heck that is.
#1: Composting. An interesting concept. Since I didn’t have a clue what composting entailed - other than throwing your coffee grounds out the window - I hit the public library for a “How To” book. Not exactly the most exciting book I’ve ever read, but I managed to plow through it anyway. It took me a couple of days to start my “sight.” The book never once referred to a composting area as a pile and I will tell you why. “Pile” makes one instinctively think of POOP, and that’s pretty much what I have; A GREAT BIG PILE OF POOPISH CRUD. It reeks, the neighbors are complaining and when I put my homemade compost on plants, they immediately curl up and die. My footprint grows …
#2: Wasting water. The article went into great detail about how much water Americans waste every day just warming up their shower water before they climb in. I’m guilty. The authors suggest placing a large tub under the shower head to catch the water you waste during the warming up process. What they don’t tell you is that there is no way someone my size can hoist this flippin’ tub out of the shower. When was the last time you showered while straddling a tub the size of Lake Erie ? I didn’t know my legs could spread that far apart. The next morning I abandoned the tub idea and decided to just leap into the shower the moment I turned it on. Yowsers!!! My heart nearly stopped. …and grows …
#3: Did you know that paper towels were created by the devil himself? We can live without paper towels. Right? It might interest you to know that the Big Irishman is a certified P. T. addict. During an average dinner prep, he has been known to use over 600 paper towels. I knew it would be difficult to lead him down the path to a paper towel – free life. But try I did. I installed a basket and stack of neatly folded rags on the counter in the kitchen. I explained the new simple procedure to him and off we marched into a greener life. Use a rag, place it in the basket. Shanlee launders rags and returns them to stack on counter. What could be simpler? Do you know how long it takes a man to mess up a stack of rags and spread them on every available inch of kitchen counter space? About 1.6 seconds. The final straw was when I walked in and found the CLEAN RAGS in the basket and the dirty rags in the dog’s bed. I won’t even describe the smell that a basket full of food and dirt-filled rags can create in a very short time. …to an unimaginable size.
I’ve never looked good in green and I’ve decided to just write a big fat check to some environmental group. (Once the HAZMAT crew is done and we can move back into the house.)
January 5, 2008 - Posted by amazingzipperedwoman- 1 Comment
In the days after Christmas, as I cleaned the house,
I noticed a smooshy, round bulge in my blouse.
The chocolate I’d eaten, the cocktails galore,
Had all made my body a sight to abhor.
When I climbed on the scale, I nearly passed out.
The number so large, “You’re FAT” it did shout.
I paused to remember, all the goodies consumed.
These were the reason my ass had ballooned.
The wine and the eggnog, the chips and the dip.
It would appear, had gone right to my hips.
As I dressed in my sweat pants and old army tent,
I shouted and screamed in order to vent.
I cried and I yelled, for the whole world to hear,
“I can’t wear a tent for the rest of the year.”
Every food that is fattening and good to the taste,
Must go in the trash. OH, WHAT A WASTE.
No bread for me and potatoes are banned.
Only veggies and yogurt - I’m not such a fan.
My tummy and arms will jiggle no more.
I’ll starve myself silly. Oh what a bore.
When March brings a hint of glorious Spring,
The world around Shanlee will actually sing.
With musical words like skinny and thin,
And no hint at all of that old double chin.
I’m committed today. My diet must start.
I’ll take better care of this beautiful heart.
October 23, 2007 - Posted by amazingzipperedwoman- 1 Comment
Yesterday started out like almost every Sunday. The Big Irishman slept late and I got up early to watch the political news shows and read the paper. The B.I. always makes a big, greasy breakfast on the Sabbath. My mouth usually starts watering in anticipation of this repast on Saturday afternoon. After the dishes were done (guess who did them) we settled in for our weekly B.T.S. (browse, tear and stack) During this time-honored tradition, we methodically peruse the adds, tear out the ones that are of interest, and stack the torn scraps on the table between Tom’s recliner and the couch where I usually sit. Occasionally we mutter comments like, “Wow, that’s a great price.” or “I’ve been looking all over for one of these.” Usually no one even glances at the “stack” until I throw it away on Thursday. After browsing, tearing and stacking for almost an hour, Tom asked if I wanted to go to HOME DEPOT with him. Never turning down a chance to shop, I eagerly agreed. BIG MISTAKE. At this point I should have gone back to bed and remained there until Monday morning.
Our first selection at the Depot was a long piece of PVC pipe - at least 563 feet long. The B.I. stuck it through the cart’s handle and several hundred feet extended beyond both ends of the cart. As we continued to shop, he kept making piss ant remarks like, ”Be careful,” and ”Watch where you’re going.” Finally he said, “I’m going to the screw aisle. You stay parked right here, where you won’t hurt anybody.” I did as I was told, but I must admit I was fuming. And also trying to figure out why I had married someone so unfun. After all, lightly tapping people with PVC pipe is a harmless sport.
Suddenly I saw him exit the screw aisle, make a sharp right, and speed away from me as fast as he could go. Something in me just snapped when it became apparent that he intended to do ALL his shopping while I remained parked by the mops. I bolted out of my secure spot and headed directly for his unsuspecting butt. After shouting, “Here comes a Christmas Goose,” I jabbed the PVC pipe right into the back seam of his shorts. To my great joy, the pipe continued it’s journey between his legs. I hadn’t counted on this extra treat. I only meant to bump his bum. It was at this exact moment that everything went terribly wrong.
I passed out immediately after making eye contact with the man impaled on my PVC pipe. He was very tall and big like Tom. He had on khaki shorts just like Tom. He had on a green tee-shirt just like Tom. He was even bow-legged just like Tom. But he wasn’t Tom. I HAD JUST MOLESTED A MAN WHO IS NOT MY HUSBAND. I guess I was unconscious for almost an hour.
Laughs, Lessons and Language
A new word: Flummery 1. A name given to various sweet dishes made with milk, eggs, flour, etc. 2. Unsubstantial talk or writing; mumbo jumbo; nonsense.
Used in a sentence: Please enjoy a wee bit of flummery as you read my flummery.
Advise from an old farmer: Keep skunks and bankers and lawyers at a distance.
October 17, 2007 - Posted by amazingzipperedwoman- 2 Comments
Last week some very good friends, Dr. Bala and Anita, stayed with us for a few days. They were visiting Arizona for their son’s wedding. I can’t even describe how much fun we had. On Sunday, the Big Irishman arranged a golf game for the boys. Anita suggested that she and I should schedule massages. Because seeing my zippered body has a tendency to render massagers unable to massage, I opted for a facial. I had just noticed that very morning that I was looking a bit haggard. I felt like a facial was just “what the doctor ordered.”
Only a very confident woman would post this picture. Remember, this was done, with stage make-up and mirrors.
We headed for the club at the appointed time and I was greeted by David who would be my facialer. (Or is it facialor?) We discussed my options. Did I want a Flowing Hot Lava Facial, or a Steaming Donkey Dung Facial. Perhaps Madame desires the Poking Prune Pit Fantasy or the Happy Helium Healing Hot Hand Extravaganza. After much discussion we agreed on the Pure Pumpkin Acid Regenerating Foaming Torture Facial with a foot massage thrown in. The pumpkin component is a salute to Autumn.
We ran into our first problem when I was instructed to go into the locker room, take off my clothes, and don a robe that an anorexic teenager couldn’t wrap around herself. I did as I was instructed, but I failed to understand why a facial required this extreme level of exposure. I kinda decided that David must be a mugger. I also decided not to fight him in order to avoid being seriously injured. I think I read in a magazine that not fighting is a good idea.
The first portion of my experience was termed “thorough cleansing.” Translated: the application of battery acid to my entire, face, neck and upper boobal area. The acid was then worked into my pores using tiny pieces of ground glass, which were rotated at the speed of light. As soon as the spurting blood was clotted, a paste of ground rhino rib was applied to prepare my skinless face for the pumpkin potion. While the rhino rib was working its magic, my feet were separated from my ankles, hooked up to electrodes, and repeatedly zapped until I wet my pants. David, the torture master, eventually turned off the current. I must say that my feet didn’t hurt after the procedure BECAUSE THE NERVE ENDINGS WERE SEVERED AND I FELT NOTHING AT ALL.
At last, the main event. The pumpkin paste was applied about 6 inches thick. I immediately felt a burning, searing pain that David said was simply “pore refinement.” After about 20 minutes, I decided that I really had no interest in being even more beautiful. I bolted from the room, with my ill-fitting robe flapping in the breeze. (to the accompaniment of shrieks and screams) On the way home I splurged and had my first Starbucks coffee.
Facial + Starbucks = Diva
Below is the finished product.
The following is a public service announcement ….
This kitten was found in the alley behind Grump’s Grog and Grinders. If you are the owner,
please contact the AZW. If you have any desire to add this cherubic pet to your family,
just let me know.
October 2, 2007 - Posted by amazingzipperedwoman- 3 Comments
I’m sure that most of my readers have given up on the possibility of ever hearing from me again. I totally understand if you’ve all found other blogs to read. (audible sob, audible sob) But for those of you who are still hanging on to your last shred of confidence in me, I have the following announcement: Amazing Zippered Woman is now a registered domain, and my sparkling new Web Site is finally up and running. This really has been a dream of mine for a very long time. Thanks to Web Master Jason and Web Mistress Meghann, I have a site that is beyond all my expectations. Thanks and Hugs to both of you for all the hard work. You’ve made an old woman very happy.
The blog can be accessed from my Home Page at www.amazingzipperedwoman.com This page will be adding features over time. Be sure and check the photo show periodically. I want to make you aware of a couple new features on my blog. Some days there will be a small section called “Laughs, Lessons and Language.” Check out this new addition. You will also notice that the title has changed. “Zippettes” has been added. The “Zippettes” (“Zips” for short) are guest bloggers who will periodically post. If you have any desire to be a Zippette, please let me know through the Guestbook or Comments sections. Thanks for hangin’ in there with me.
Laughs, Lessons and Language
Lesson: Always Be Generous.
May 8, 2007 - Posted by amazingzipperedwoman- 1 Comment
Last year I made a wreath for our front door. I was new to wreath-making, so I went to Michael’s and spent approximately 5 times what most people spend on a prefabricated wreath - just acquiring items that I felt were necessary to construct my premier wreath. Among my purchases was a fake bird who I named Arnold after the governor of California. My rationale was that Arnold (my fake bird) was good-looking, but didn’t seem very bright. Below is a picture of my wreath hanging on our front door. Can you find Arnold nestled among the flowers and foliage?
He is perched at the bottom of the wreath, just a little to the right of center. You can just see his little head above a yellow leaf. Now I must introduce you to Finny, a house finch who lives in our yard. I could not talk her into posing for a photo. Apparently, several days ago, Finny found herself in a very uncomfortable position - unmarried and pregnant. I guess her boyfriend dumped her because she spotted Arnold in my wreath and it was LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT. It only took her an afternoon to build a nest and move in.
Very shortly, Tom during a routine porch inspection, discovered that the nest contained 4 tiny blue eggs. Being a lover of all living things, he immediately posted a sign warning people that traffic was temporarily rerouted through the garage. He also arranged an old trailer mirror so we could keep an eye on the little mother - just in case she needs anything.
The sign ….
… and the mirror.
Now …. it gives me great pleasure to announce the births of Fuzz, (first born) Boom, (second) and Snerd (third.) We are still waiting for the last egg to hatch. Fuzz-Boom, and Snerd are names that we gave dust-balls under the bed when my kids were growing up. Tom is a maniac about these babies. He has called 3 times today to see how they’re doing. Now that they are peeping, he acts as though they are saying, “Grandpa.” I hope you can see the babies in this next picture. Just look for little hints of fluff. This man really needs human grandchildren.
I’ll keep you posted on our new feathered grandchildren. I’m going outside now to have a little talk with Arnold. He really isn’t doing his share. Finny seems to be taking all the responsibility.
