All this week, the Husband has been getting up rather.....later than usual. Late rising often leaves him with a decidedly rushed morning schedule. This morning was worse than usual; with a 15 minute drive to work and maybe 16 minutes until he was supposed to be there.
On these mornings, breakfast-to-go has to be a little creative. Today, he wasn't interested in his usual container of cereal with soymilk along in a separate container, to be consumed whenever time permits after he's arrived at work. So I proposed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
The Husband: Sure! That sounds good.
Bren J.: Grab me the grape jelly?
The Husband: There's not much left in here.
Bren J.: How about plum? There's plum in the cupboard.
Bren J. spreads on the peanut butter and rushes to open the plum jelly. After smearing some over the peanut butter...
Bren J.: Wait a minute. I don't think this is plum...
The Husband: What?
Bren J.: Here, taste....I think it's hot pepper jelly.
The Husband: You know, I think it is.
*********************************
So, thanks Mom, for labeling that jar. I didn't realize plum jelly and hot pepper jelly look exactly the same. And yes, I scraped off as much of the 'plum' as possible and used apricot-pineapple instead. Phew!
Additionally, it must be noted that The Husband has never, until now, known the 'proper' way to assemble a peanut butter and jelly sandwich: Each slice of bread much be separately spread (read: slathered) with peanut butter BEFORE the jelly is added, otherwise, you get some soggy jellyfied bread. Ugh.
31 August, 2007
28 August, 2007
Because We're Lame Like That
The Husband and I like to come up with funny superheroes from time to time and we imagine conversations one might have with them. The Mumbler is one of my personal favourites (modeled after the Husband), but our most recent creation is The Googler. So without further adieu, may I present:
CC: Oh! The Googler! You're just in time! There are two goldfish trapped in a bowl on the window ledge of that burning building!
The Googler: Fish? Trapped? Burning Building? Just a moment while I figure out what to do....Now let's see, "goldfish + bowl + window + fire....." Fried goldfish!? No, no, that won't do. "Goldfish + window".....Come on, I'm feeling lucky. Stained-glass goldfish? Ack!
...And so, two goldfish meet there firey fate. If only The Googler didn't have so many answers.
"Eavesdropping On a Conversation
Between a Concerned Citizen and The Googler"
Between a Concerned Citizen and The Googler"
CC: Oh! The Googler! You're just in time! There are two goldfish trapped in a bowl on the window ledge of that burning building!
The Googler: Fish? Trapped? Burning Building? Just a moment while I figure out what to do....Now let's see, "goldfish + bowl + window + fire....." Fried goldfish!? No, no, that won't do. "Goldfish + window".....Come on, I'm feeling lucky. Stained-glass goldfish? Ack!
...And so, two goldfish meet there firey fate. If only The Googler didn't have so many answers.
20 August, 2007
The Price is Right
The last couple months have been great months in which to receive mail. Having a baby dramatically ups the quality of our mailbox treasures. For a while there it was at least one card or present at least every other day. Who could ask for more? Alas, those days of surprisingly blissful trips to the mailbox have ended. We have now finally gotten both of the hospital bills for the Little Goat's birth - her bill and mine.
Having spent the greater part of my life living in Canada where at least the basics of health care are covered, it is still always a shock for me to see a hospital bill and find out exactly what it is we've paid for. The category that has me most befuddled is "Supplies." Three hundred and twenty-five dollars for supplies. Little plastic squirt bottles for cleaning, those abominable sanitary pads akin to the same BRAND NAME diapers my child wore in the hospital, only sans Winnie the Pooh or Tigger or Elmo or whichever cartoon-character-of-the-day is on them. Then there were those horrible mesh undertheres; $20 a pop, I'm sure. (I was really hoping to restock my personal supply of those, but it turns out Victoria's Secret is all out. Bah!) The most useless expense I witnessed? A bottle of sterile water opened during our in-nursery demonstration of bathing the Little Goat. One whole bottle of water, opened for what? Cleaning her eyes. Four drops of water on one cotton ball for one eye, four drops of water on another cotton ball for the other eye; and that's it! Don't save the bottle for anything else, it's contaminated now. Trust me when I say that we took almost everything from that hospital room that wasn't tied down. Extra chucks pads that I have no idea when we'll use, even the leftover pads and undertheres (I'm sure I'll find a use for them some day)!
So, just for "fun," I've decided to break down the cost of this birth into units that make it seem even more ludicrous. (Just for starters, for the cost of this birth, we could've purchased, used and before taxes of course, 2.4 units of the same car we already own, or 'splurged' on 15 'extra' mortgage payments.)
I have chosen the following units of measurement:
Carrots - a one pound bag costs us 68 cents
Soothers (also known as 'binkys' [<-seriously, WHO thought of that?!] or pacifiers to my American friends) - $3.96 for a package of two
Cans of pop - we're talking Walmart brand from their pop machines, available for 25 cents per can
Okay. Are you ready? Here's the breakdown:
Nursery/Semi-private hospital room (two nights): 6018 lbs of carrots, 1033 pkgs of soothers, or 16, 368 cans of pop.
Drugs: (I was sure this category should've been less. I figured a discount might be forthcoming since I requested Extra Strength Tylenol and they were "all out." Yes, ALL OUT. An entire hospital, evidently, OUT of Extra Strength Tylenol!) 201 lbs of carrots, 35 pkgs of soothers, or 548 cans of pop.
"Supplies": 478 lbs of carrots, 82 pkgs of soothers, or 1300 cans of pop.
Laboratory: 331 lbs of carrots, 57 pkgs of soothers, or 900 cans of pop.
Delivery Room: 2775 lbs of carrots, 477 pkgs of soothers, or 7548 cans of pop.
Physician: 5451 lbs of carrots, 936 pkgs of soothers, or 14,828 cans of pop.
So the grand total of all that is: 15,254 lbs of carrots, 2619 pkgs of soothers, or 41,492 cans of pop.
Thankfully, we are only responsible for the following: 1765 lbs of carrots, 303 pkgs of soothers, 4800 cans of pop, OR 1.75 mortgage payments.
What may be worse than all of this is the nearly insatiable and highly irritating craving for Cheez Whiz they sent me home with...all part of their plot to have me back for more business sometime in the next ten years, I'm sure.
Having spent the greater part of my life living in Canada where at least the basics of health care are covered, it is still always a shock for me to see a hospital bill and find out exactly what it is we've paid for. The category that has me most befuddled is "Supplies." Three hundred and twenty-five dollars for supplies. Little plastic squirt bottles for cleaning, those abominable sanitary pads akin to the same BRAND NAME diapers my child wore in the hospital, only sans Winnie the Pooh or Tigger or Elmo or whichever cartoon-character-of-the-day is on them. Then there were those horrible mesh undertheres; $20 a pop, I'm sure. (I was really hoping to restock my personal supply of those, but it turns out Victoria's Secret is all out. Bah!) The most useless expense I witnessed? A bottle of sterile water opened during our in-nursery demonstration of bathing the Little Goat. One whole bottle of water, opened for what? Cleaning her eyes. Four drops of water on one cotton ball for one eye, four drops of water on another cotton ball for the other eye; and that's it! Don't save the bottle for anything else, it's contaminated now. Trust me when I say that we took almost everything from that hospital room that wasn't tied down. Extra chucks pads that I have no idea when we'll use, even the leftover pads and undertheres (I'm sure I'll find a use for them some day)!
So, just for "fun," I've decided to break down the cost of this birth into units that make it seem even more ludicrous. (Just for starters, for the cost of this birth, we could've purchased, used and before taxes of course, 2.4 units of the same car we already own, or 'splurged' on 15 'extra' mortgage payments.)
I have chosen the following units of measurement:
Carrots - a one pound bag costs us 68 cents
Soothers (also known as 'binkys' [<-seriously, WHO thought of that?!] or pacifiers to my American friends) - $3.96 for a package of two
Cans of pop - we're talking Walmart brand from their pop machines, available for 25 cents per can
Okay. Are you ready? Here's the breakdown:
Nursery/Semi-private hospital room (two nights): 6018 lbs of carrots, 1033 pkgs of soothers, or 16, 368 cans of pop.
Drugs: (I was sure this category should've been less. I figured a discount might be forthcoming since I requested Extra Strength Tylenol and they were "all out." Yes, ALL OUT. An entire hospital, evidently, OUT of Extra Strength Tylenol!) 201 lbs of carrots, 35 pkgs of soothers, or 548 cans of pop.
"Supplies": 478 lbs of carrots, 82 pkgs of soothers, or 1300 cans of pop.
Laboratory: 331 lbs of carrots, 57 pkgs of soothers, or 900 cans of pop.
Delivery Room: 2775 lbs of carrots, 477 pkgs of soothers, or 7548 cans of pop.
Physician: 5451 lbs of carrots, 936 pkgs of soothers, or 14,828 cans of pop.
So the grand total of all that is: 15,254 lbs of carrots, 2619 pkgs of soothers, or 41,492 cans of pop.
Thankfully, we are only responsible for the following: 1765 lbs of carrots, 303 pkgs of soothers, 4800 cans of pop, OR 1.75 mortgage payments.
What may be worse than all of this is the nearly insatiable and highly irritating craving for Cheez Whiz they sent me home with...all part of their plot to have me back for more business sometime in the next ten years, I'm sure.
17 August, 2007
Blog, Sweet Blog
Oh Blog Bloggity Blog Blog. It's so good to be back! I've pined for you, my bloggity friends, so much that I was beginning to fear my blood would turn to sap. Our poor computer is back up and running after a second surgery, with a $100 replacement part, so don't be surprised if you suddenly see ads on this page: Blogging isn't 'free' you know. It IS wonderful to have a computer that purrs like a kitten once again however.
What's that you say? Enough with the rambling and on with the update? O. K. Firstly, the Little Goat has taken to being quite smiley and laugh-y in the mornings. I'm quite enjoying those first few morning hours. (We won't get into how I feel after lunch.) We're not sure how much she weighs now (appointment next Friday, complete with *gasp* more shots!) but she's eating almost incessantly, so it must be more than 10 lbs. She seems to be right on 'schedule' with most of her 'developmental milestones' except that she HATES (inasmuch as a baby can hate) lying on her stomach. Oh man! If anybody has tips, we're all ears. Thirty seconds is too much some times.
********************
And what would a (finally!) new post be without a very funny story to share? Well, useless, that's what, so here you go. This past Tuesday, Husband was scheduled to give blood for the first time. He was excited because they let you take time out of work to donate and you walk away with a belly full of pizza and watermelon, a coupon for a free movie rental, and a coupon for a free wee pizza at Pizza Hut (still, it's free pizza, right?).
His donation time was 2:45. He called me at around 3:30 to say he still hadn't gotten in. Finally at around 5-ish, he got in to give blood. I was in a bit of a tizzy here at home because my La Leche League meeting was starting at 6:30 and I still hadn't really decided if I was going or not pending a check of the old temperature (a lovely bout of mastitis settled in on Sunday night - oh goody); but if I was going to go, I needed to get dinner in the oven ASAP. Anyway, around a quarter of six, Husband calls.
Husband: Um, well, I'm going to be a bit longer than I thought.
Bren J: You mean you're not done yet?
Husband: Well, I passed out in the bathroom.
Bren J: Cause I need to get dinner started and, wait, YOU WHAT?!?!?
Husband: I passed out in the bathroom after I gave blood. Another donor found me. So now I'm in the ER.
So he passed out in the bathroom and the AMBULANCE had to come and drive him from one end of the hospital to the other. Ridiculous? I. THINK. SO. He finally got home just after seven, blood on his work clothes, blood all over his neck (I guess it must cost extra if they have to actually clean you), a nasty headache from hitting his head on the floor after the initial connection of the chin to the urinal, two stitches resulting from said connection, a sprained pinky finger, and a huge bandage on his arm from 'the biggest hematoma the nurse said she'd ever given anyone giving blood
.' (see photo)
Good. Grief. And so...
Bren J. (laughing): I'm sorry, but it's just really funny. That would just happen to you the very first time you gave blood. Sorry, the very last time you give blood.
Husband: Um hm.
Bren J.: You know you'll laugh about this some day, right?
Husband: Maybe.
Bren J.: Is it okay if I laugh about it now?
Husband: I guess, in your own little way.
Bren J: Please can I blog this? I'll leave out some of the details....
Husband: Fine. Whatever. Tylenol, please.
*****************
A few days later and all is well. The bruise on Husband's arm is gargantuan but his headache is gone and he's saving 30 seconds not having to shave his chin every morning. And just so you know we're not the only ones who are mildly amused; we've finally succeeded in capturing the Little Goat's wee smiles. Hooray!
*Edit: Turns out there was no ambulance ride. Husband refused. They took him in a wheelchair instead.
What's that you say? Enough with the rambling and on with the update? O. K. Firstly, the Little Goat has taken to being quite smiley and laugh-y in the mornings. I'm quite enjoying those first few morning hours. (We won't get into how I feel after lunch.) We're not sure how much she weighs now (appointment next Friday, complete with *gasp* more shots!) but she's eating almost incessantly, so it must be more than 10 lbs. She seems to be right on 'schedule' with most of her 'developmental milestones' except that she HATES (inasmuch as a baby can hate) lying on her stomach. Oh man! If anybody has tips, we're all ears. Thirty seconds is too much some times.
********************
And what would a (finally!) new post be without a very funny story to share? Well, useless, that's what, so here you go. This past Tuesday, Husband was scheduled to give blood for the first time. He was excited because they let you take time out of work to donate and you walk away with a belly full of pizza and watermelon, a coupon for a free movie rental, and a coupon for a free wee pizza at Pizza Hut (still, it's free pizza, right?).
His donation time was 2:45. He called me at around 3:30 to say he still hadn't gotten in. Finally at around 5-ish, he got in to give blood. I was in a bit of a tizzy here at home because my La Leche League meeting was starting at 6:30 and I still hadn't really decided if I was going or not pending a check of the old temperature (a lovely bout of mastitis settled in on Sunday night - oh goody); but if I was going to go, I needed to get dinner in the oven ASAP. Anyway, around a quarter of six, Husband calls.
Husband: Um, well, I'm going to be a bit longer than I thought.
Bren J: You mean you're not done yet?
Husband: Well, I passed out in the bathroom.
Bren J: Cause I need to get dinner started and, wait, YOU WHAT?!?!?
Husband: I passed out in the bathroom after I gave blood. Another donor found me. So now I'm in the ER.
So he passed out in the bathroom and the AMBULANCE had to come and drive him from one end of the hospital to the other. Ridiculous? I. THINK. SO. He finally got home just after seven, blood on his work clothes, blood all over his neck (I guess it must cost extra if they have to actually clean you), a nasty headache from hitting his head on the floor after the initial connection of the chin to the urinal, two stitches resulting from said connection, a sprained pinky finger, and a huge bandage on his arm from 'the biggest hematoma the nurse said she'd ever given anyone giving blood
.' (see photo)Good. Grief. And so...
Bren J. (laughing): I'm sorry, but it's just really funny. That would just happen to you the very first time you gave blood. Sorry, the very last time you give blood.
Husband: Um hm.
Bren J.: You know you'll laugh about this some day, right?
Husband: Maybe.
Bren J.: Is it okay if I laugh about it now?
Husband: I guess, in your own little way.
Bren J: Please can I blog this? I'll leave out some of the details....
Husband: Fine. Whatever. Tylenol, please.
*****************
A few days later and all is well. The bruise on Husband's arm is gargantuan but his headache is gone and he's saving 30 seconds not having to shave his chin every morning. And just so you know we're not the only ones who are mildly amused; we've finally succeeded in capturing the Little Goat's wee smiles. Hooray!
*Edit: Turns out there was no ambulance ride. Husband refused. They took him in a wheelchair instead.
04 August, 2007
Ahhhhhgain.
So posts are going to be sporadic again here because I have been informed I must undergo sensitivity counseling as a result of my wheelchair curling comments.
Just kidding. We thought the computer was okay now, but alas, it is not. We need to replace a part. Anyway, I may be reading other blogs and leaving a comment here and there (as usual), but I won't be posting anything heart-stopping (wait, do I ever?) for a week or so.
As with last time, I'll miss you...and I will definitely pine for you.
Just kidding. We thought the computer was okay now, but alas, it is not. We need to replace a part. Anyway, I may be reading other blogs and leaving a comment here and there (as usual), but I won't be posting anything heart-stopping (wait, do I ever?) for a week or so.
As with last time, I'll miss you...and I will definitely pine for you.
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