My reputation precedes me!

I emailed my doctor to report that I've had an ongoing mild fever for about a week. He called to double check my symptoms. I have NO symptom, other than the fever and occasional body aches, but Motrin makes me feel right as rain most of the time. So, he says I have a viral syndrome. Not "the flu" but something similar and viral. He says I'm contagious and that I should take time off. I told him that I have no sick time because of surgery, so he tells me, "OK, just don't be kissing up on people at work."

Who told him my history? How did he KNOW...?

For those of you just tuning in, I kind of have this reputation for kissing a lot of people. I don't know how it started or why. But once, when I was maybe 14 or 15, and I had already kissed about 3-5 people, my dear friend at school, April, and I decided to have a kissing contest. Originally, it was going to just be for one day. Somehow it evolved into a week? I'm not sure. It was a long time ago.

Anyway, I had skyrocketed my numbers up to, I believe, 18 within a week? I think I won by 1 person. Since she and I were friends, we had practically the same circle of friends, so naturally, all of our guy friends were fine with letting us "use" them to tally numbers. I happened to know someone else she didn't, so I won. That's neither here nor there. Then, I couldn't stop!

For whatever reason, that contest set off something in my brain. Or in my mouth. I'm not sure which. I discovered in that little experiment that I LOVE kissing. Love it. I could do that all day. And I did for the rest of high school. And after. Now, I know that sounds slutty, but I was literally ONLY kissing these boys. No funny business with the majority of them unless maybe I liked them a little bit more than a friend...then they could touch my butt or something. But honestly, just kissing.

People always say kissing is so intimate. That you should only kiss people you deeply care about. I think it's a fun way to say, "Hey, you're a fun friend." Personally, I don't think kissing is more intimate than making love, which I've heard. I just enjoy it. Do what you love & love what you do, isn't that how the saying goes? I mean, I got married for the second time now, so that has obviously curtailed my ongoing experiment, but I just find it hilarious that even my doctor, who I've literally only met once, had already gotten the memo!

**Girls Just Wanna Have Fun**

Get them stitches out!

**Semi-Graphic Pics included of my stitched foot. View with caution.**

Today I got to get my stitches out. WOOHOO. I've been LONGING for this day because I could take that stupid cast off. It was so heavy and hot. And the medications were no longer working anyway, so it made it that much more uncomfortable. So I arrange that my sister (who had the day off) come and pick me up. We find a spot, miraculously, in the parking garage at the Kaiser hospital and I hop on my scooter and she loads up my almost 6 month old niece in the baby backpack thing. Naturally, we end up coming out of the garage at the top of a hill. Take a minute to soak that in. Lady with one good leg, on a scooter, having to go down a hill. And my assistant? A 100 pound woman carrying a baby on the front of her in a pack. Imagine the possibilities...

So, as carefully as possible, I use the brake to start descending down the hill. Then I notice a little walkway area that goes down behind some potted plants and it looks closer and less steep. **LIGHT BULB** I suggest we cut through, and wrangle my scooter through the plants. Seemed like a great idea, honestly. And the hill itself wasn't so bad. The whole while, my sister, who has been witness to many BAD IDEAS of similar situations, suggests that I be very careful so we don't have another, what we refer to it as, "Wagon Incident" (I'll detail that incident at the end of this blog, just in case you want to laugh at me more).

I assure her that I have everything under control. I begin to coast down the hill, its maybe 10-20 feet. I didn't use the brake properly, unfortunately. So I may or may not have raced down the hill on my scooter. I didn't fall or anything, but once I applied the break fully, I came to a full stop. My natural instinct was to plant my feet down on the ground to steady myself. Big mistake. My cast foot landed flat on the ground and I felt my calf muscle tighten and a weird sensation run through my foot. My sister's eyes are HUGE and I turn and tell her, "Well, that probably wasn't the best idea!" But it didn't hurt too bad. I assumed I was fine and in the clear. No one saw but us. Phew.

So I get inside, and Nurse Rana greets me and gets me prepped and begins cutting off the cast. Just then, a friend from HS, who is also a nurse, Jeni-Bean (HS nickname), comes in to say hi. So the 5 of us (2 nurses, my sister, my niece and I) are all laughing and watching the cast come off. Just then, Dr. Soulier comes in. In case I haven't mentioned before, he's SUPER nice and reminds me of Ricky Schroeder. I say, "This is the party room, WOOT, WOOT!"

Without missing a beat, he says, "Yeah, I saw your little party outside!" My heart sank in my chest! How did he see that?! He then tells me how he watched the whole scene outside because apparently, I came roaring down the hill, right towards his office. Of course I did. LOL. How was I supposed to know that was his office? We were all laughing so hard. Well, he was nervous laughing and was ready to take me to the ER if warranted. So, he cleans me, takes out stitches, sends me for x-rays and I get a new boot. Still no weight for about 2 more weeks.  Pictures below.

Nurse Rana removing the cast

Right before trying to clean me up

My mummy wrap

New boot. Way more comfy than the cast!!!      

The Wagon Incident

We, my siblings and I, used to always walk the March of Dimes 5K marathon in Downtown Sacramento. I borrowed a wagon from my cousin because my youngest was too old for a stroller, but I knew he'd struggle to make it the full 3 miles. 

We got to the underpass of the bridge between Downtown and Old Town and I remembered that, when we were children, we would ride my metal red Radio Flyer Wagon down our driveway and I would use the handle to steer us. I would take my sisters and brothers on rides down the driveway. We would have hours of fun. And I wanted to recreate that fun for my youngest (who was maybe 4 years old at the time).

The hill is steep but no one was around. What could possibly go wrong? So, my sister Sarah, my brother-in-law Ethan, my daughter and her BFF, went ahead of us and my son, Raul, and I got in the wagon. I sat in front to steer, as I always had as a child. I don't know why, but he stood behind me in the wagon (look, I never said I was a good mom. Obviously this was about as irresponsible as one could be!) Nonetheless, we start sailing down the hill. I was having a blast. Then I felt like we were going too fast, and instead of dragging my feet, I planted them square on the ground. Raul and I both went flying through the air.

I landed on my hands and knees directly in front of the wagon. Raul flew over the top of me, kicked me in the head, and started rolling. He didn't have a scratch on him, but turns to me and yells, "This is all your fault!". Both my knees were torn out of my capri pants, my knees and hands were skinned and bloody. It smarted. It smarted BADLY. But I couldn't let anyone else know how badly it hurt. They all came rushing at us. They were all laughing hysterically. Then my daughter's BFF says, "Poor Raul! He looked like a hot dog rolling away!" To this day, I still don't understand that part. I think my brother-in-law laughed the hardest. At least my sister tried to see if I was OK, and attempted to stifle her laugh. LOL. 

We walked down the street to Starbucks where I went to the bathroom and washed up my knees. Boy did they hurt. And they scabbed so badly that I couldn't even lean on my knees for over a month without a LOT of pain. 4-5 years later, I still have scars. But at least we all have a hilarious story. I can laugh now. And clearly, when it comes to me and free rolling objects, we don't mix!!!