The Life and Times of Poopwa Foley

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It’s 6:30 on Thursday night.  I worked a regular full time day then came home to our cheerful little house, where cleaned the kitchen, swept the floor, made some coffee, and now I’m sitting in the living room with my trusty laptop.

What do I do at work, you ask?  Well, it’s secretarial/accounts payable/accounts receivable/coffee buyer/supply orderer/filer/you name it. 

And I answer the phones.

And due to the fact that this is a very homicidal time of month for me, I am very crabby, tired, headachy, and crampy.  I’m struggling with being in a good mood and being polite.  Struggling, but winning.

sort of like this guy, but not as whacked out.

I had a very hard time yesterday with a caller who was checking status on a payment, which is code for her saying “I hate my job, I’m helping someone else, I’m condescending, I’m rude, I’m smarter than you are, I’m impatient, I’m discourteous, and in short, I’m a huge, gigantic beeyotch.”

As always, I was patient.  I was kind.  I tried to be helpful, but kept being interrupted by the snot on the other end of the phone.  I’m not sure what bug crawled up her rear and took up residence, but let me assure you that it was one of those BIG bugs.

I kept my cool.  My reward was hearing her hang up on me. 

I never get an answer to this, but why do people act this way?  Just because you’re on the phone doesn’t mean you can be nasty.  You wouldn’t burst into my office, shaking papers in my face, interrupting me and being a complete ass, would you?  Then what makes you think it’s ok to do this on the phone? 

If I could remember her name, I would look her up on Facebook just to tell her that. 

Better yet, I would look up her mother.

It was a Christmas present, my new Nook.  I found out later that the very child I had made fun of for going out shopping on Black Friday had, in fact, waited in line for a very long, long time at a local store to buy a Nook for her mommy, at a very, very good price. 
by adam r
not exactly a Nook, but you get the idea.
All that and a gift card to fill it!  And didn’t I feel like a horse’s ass for teasing?
I immediately mess it up play with it, in the process downloading what I found out later was a very norty book veiled as a romance novel.  It amounted to poorly written erotica.  I read skimmed it and wished for a red pen the entire time.  Don’t these people even edit?  Or attend church?
I figured out how to find the good books, the really good books, and managed to blow through my gift card in under seven minutes.  I also had several books pop up in my library that I didn’t order.  In chatting with a friend later, I discovered that she too had a couple show up in her Nook, uninvited, right around the time she had gone into (rhymes with Smarms & Coble) where there is wifi, as opposed to her home, which is wifi-lacking.
She went back in to Smarms & Coble to find out why these books were downloaded into her library and wouldn’t you know it, those books were gone.  Missing.  She was unable to find them anywhere in her Nook and hadn’t pushed any buttons to remove them.  Now, my friend is not a stupid person and has not begun seeing things that aren’t there.  Yet.
However, the skeevy bookstore employee obviously decided to have a little fun with her.
  
Friend:  Hi, I was just wondering why books I didn’t buy are being downloaded to my Nook? (Hands over Nook)
Bookstore:  (scrolls through her Nook library.)  You must have downloaded them.  Or someone lent them to you.  But they’re not in here anymore.
Friend:  (grabs Nook back, pages through) What the…They were just there!!! 
Bookstore:  (shrugs) Well, they’re not there now.  Next customer in line?
Friend:  Now, wait just a damn minute.  I can barely download books I want, much less lend stuff I didn’t buy!
Bookstore:  If they were ever even there (smirking) I’m thinking maybe that’s exactly what you did; you lent them to someone.  You can do that, you know, lend your Nook library to someone.  It’s in the directions.  That’s probably what you did.
Friend:  (voice is rising a little bit) I didn’t lend them to anyone!  I just got this thing, and I can’t work it; what makes you think that I am so technologically gifted that suddenly I learned how to share my library with someone?
Bookstore:  I’m just saying you probably touched your Nook to someone else’s.  Did you touch Nooks?  
Friend:  (gasps) I’ve never, even seen another person’s Nook, much less touch them together or let someone touch mine!  I’m not that kind of person!
Bookstore:  You had to have touched Nooks with someone.  It’s ok; we all want to see what other people’s Nooks look like.  It’s human nature.  Some people cover their Nooks with special decorations and some people just let them be au natural.  (Giggles) 
Friend:  (quietly, defeated) Mine has a light on it so I can use it in bed.
Bookstore:  Oh, a party girl, huh? 
Because I was laughing so hard as she related that story to me, I hardly heard anything past “touching Nooks together.”
Wait…I think I already downloaded that book.
Who says gynecologists aren’t fun?  Me.
If you haven’t read about my recent invasive trans-vaginal ultrasound or even more invasive, painful biopsy, please do so now.  It will prepare you for the next chapter in the hopefully closed book of my female health.  I’ll just wait here.  I have some wine, anyway. 
Oh, are you back already?  Ok.
At the end of Fun Female Field Trip Part 2, I discussed the next step my doctor thoughtfully laid out for me in my pursuit of gynecological wellness, also known as “being able to get some sleep at night and quit worrying” syndrome.
I was assured, repeatedly, by two nurses and the doctor, that the test I needed to have to determine why I was surfing a never-ending crimson tide was quick and most importantly, painless.  This test would be done with water and ANOTHER trans-vaginal ultrasound.  I learned a long time ago not to Google things of a medical nature but I would have Googled the shit out of it if I could have remembered the name of it.  I didn’t remember the name of it because my mind had blocked it out.  It tends to do with traumatic experiences. 
For those of you who skipped ahead and didn’t read the other posts, obviously you failed in “listening and following directions” in grade school.  A trans-vaginal ultrasound is just fancy talk for an ultrasound wherein you can’t pee for approximately a week in preparation, and then a gigantic “wand” is used to view what’s going on from the inside.
Ladies, beware and trust me on this.  If you enter an ultrasound room and there’s both gel and a “wand” covered with a fresh condom, you can bet money that wand is taking a trip to hoo-hah land.  It’s messy.  It’s uncomfortable.  It’s embarrassing.  And in my case, it was inevitable.
The day of my test, I was sick with anticipation but just wanted to get it over with.  Surely anything I was imagining was far worse than what actually would happen.  What’s a little water, after all?  I like swimming and baths.  I got to the doctor’s office at 12:45 p.m. for a 1:00 p.m. appointment, and was immediately weighed (a story for another day) and unceremoniously tossed into a back room.  I was handed a sheet and given a look that clearly said you know what to do.
There I sat, getting more and more nervous, for 45 minutes.  45 minutes is not a very long time if you’re going out for ice cream, seeing a movie, or getting a massage.  However, if you’re naked from the waist down under a tiny sheet, and more importantly if you’re me, it’s a very long time.
The nurse finally came in and explained that Doctor (they always do that, too, don’t they?  Call them Doctor like you or I would say “Tom” or “Ray”) was delayed at the hospital but would be in shortly and sure enough, within a few minutes, she was there.  Let the festivities begin.
I knew I was in for an hour of fun when I heard the word catheter and uterus used in the same breath.  Oh, joy.  I was subsequently speculumed and although they tried strenuously to put the catheter where it belonged, it wouldn’t go.  I have to give them snaps for effort, however.  Those ladies were determined.  I have the scars to prove it. 
However, their amusement was bought to a halt when water ran everywhere except into my uterus.
They figured out pretty quickly what was wrong, adjusted things slightly and YEP, YEP, OH YEAH, THERE’S THE WAND.



Silhouette Sorceress by Sattva/freedigitalphotos.net
um, not that kind.
She meandered around down there for a few seconds, but couldn’t visualize whatever it was she was supposed to see.  Because I had been put in this room and abandoned for a very long time, my bladder was too full.  Oh, sorry, totally my fault.    
Great.  Tools that recently were inserted were now un-inserted and I was told that the hallway was “pretty deserted” which was a good thing, considering the sheet I had to hold around me was the size of a tissue.
I took care of business, hopped back up onto the table, and the speculum process began all over again.  Once she was able to visualize the actual area she wanted to see, Doctor was very complimentary about my bladder emptying.  (I have been waiting for years for someone to compliment me about that very thing.  Good things come to those who wait, people.  Good things come to those who wait.)
Doctor fusses.  She harrumphs.  She seems very annoyed and finally says to her cohort in torture, “Go get (name withheld).  She can work the wand while I push the water.  I need to be able to visualize the complete uterus and blahbitty blah, blah, blah blah” which I didn’t hear because my brain was stuck on work the wand.
I have nothing against Germans.  I myself am part German.  However, the woman (and I use the term loosely) they pulled in to assist with my procedure was half German and half agony aficionado.  She took “work the wand” to new levels. 
I exhausted all my deep breathing techniques and Zen thinking and concentrated only on crab climbing backward up the table to get away from my persecutors.   At this point, I’m not sure what was so attractive about having this done in the doctor’s office as opposed to in the hospital under my good friend anesthesia.
I hear the German say, “I see zee problem, Doctair.  She haz zee floppy oss.”
I finally find my voice.  “Hey, that’s a little personal, lady!  I’m right here!  It’s only floppy because I just haven’t been able to work out much lately!!”
I’m ignored.  No surprise there, because apparently (TMI, turn away now if you haven’t already) she was saying “floppy os” which is Latin for “mother of three.”
Finally, FINALLY, they see what they need to see.  And then some.  And it’s all normal.  Which is great news but I still have three women all standing between my legs, while more sensitive regions are covered by this tissue sized sheet.  Oh, wait, no, they’re not covered because the sheet has been pushed up for maximum humiliation and embarrassment.  (Or for them to be able to see, but I’m totally going with the humiliation thing.  I’m still bitter.)  Um, we’re done here.  You can go now.
The two nurses finally, finally leave the room.  Doctor pats my leg comfortingly (she thinks) and says, a glint in her eye, that I’m probably just going through early menopause.  “Don’t worry.  You won’t ever have to see me again.” (#youbetyourfloppyosIwon’t) A chirpy laugh burbles out of her and I think, of all the people on my shit list, you’re at the very tippy top right now.  I will do everything in my power to stay away from this office.
I am holding back tears, mostly angry tears because I’m pissed that my roundhouse kick to the German’s butt missed. 
I settle for letting the air out of her tires on my way to get ice cream and a 45 minute massage, floppy os be damned.

Oh, friends, do I have pictures for you.  Tonight, before Joe and I forced ourselves to go work out because it’s good for us, we stopped at One of a Kind, which is truly a one of a kind shop right next to Barnes and Noble at the Cherry Vale Mall. 

The Christmas Open House at One of a Kind is going to be from 7am to 9 pm on Friday November 23rd, Saturday 8am to 9pm, and Sunday, from 11am to 6pm.

For every $50 you spend, you’re entered into a drawing to win a basket positively stuffed with good schtuff, and if you spend $25, you get to spin for a gumball and if you get the purple one, guess what.  You’ve automatically won a $5 gift card to One of a Kind.

There are tons of things to see at this store.  I will share some pictures:

This is all kinds of aromatic bath salts and lotions.

You should probably have some coffee beans on hand to give your nose a good clearing out so that you can go on to the next thing to sniff.  Trust me, it’s hard to choose between scents.

candles, lovely, good smelling candles.



and you can never have enough jewelry.



Here are some pics of the cutie pie tie dye.  I’m such a poet.

she’s saying, take me home!  I belong on your windowsill where I will watch you wash dishes!

Here are some of Linda’s bottles!

Embellished Accents.  A great addition to your holiday table!
toward the back of the store, where there are bows, bottles, and handmade cards.



Here’s a shot from the back of the store toward the front, with Judy blissfully unaware that she’s having her picture taken.  You’re welcome.

So a big thank you to Judy for letting me come and disrupt her business to snap pics everywhere and ask question after question, all the while exclaiming over all the cuteness that is One of a Kind.
My mother and I will be there on Saturday to begin our Christmas shopping.  Come join us!  See you there!



It has to be a cosmic payback for publishing the post on the spider in the ear.  Right? 

Last week after sniggering over all the comments on Facebook about people being afraid to sleep at night because a spider might have climbed in their ear as they slept, I realized I myself had an itchy ear.

As stated on Facebook, I really did rinse my ears out with peroxide, effectively killing anything that might have been in there (hopefully) and succeeded in making myself so dizzy I almost fell over in the bathroom.

I missed work last week on Tuesday because I felt so crappy; dizzy, flushed, really headachy…you get the picture.  Since then the pressure in my ears has increased, making it sound like I constantly have a crackling faulty speaker in my head.  And it HURTS.  Like someone took a baseball bat and cracked me in the face.  Not here, or here so much…but right here.



not here, or here so much…but right here.

 Last night, went home and was in bed by 5:30 for a 1.5 hour nap…then back in bed at 9:30pm, still not feeling well.

I dragged myself into work even though I felt icky, flushed, feverish; thinking I could gut it out.  Around 11am I cried “uncle” and made an appointment with the doctor for 3:30 pm.  Which was more like 3:45 pm.

She peeked in my right ear, very routinely.  However, she took an uncomfortably long time looking in my left ear, the source of most of the crackling.  So long, in fact, that I found myself wondering what in the heck could be that *cough spider cough* interesting in there.  I found myself spiderbabbling.

She stepped back, tiny hand on tiny chin.*

“Do you have a pet?”

It’s a spider it’s a spider it’s a spider it’s a spider it’s a spider

“Yes, why?” (It’s a good thing she took my blood pressure before this line of questioning.)

“Is your pet as black as your shirt?”

OMGOMGOMGOMG it’s a BLACK spider

I try to appear relatively calm as I tell her we have a black lab who as recently as last night (and every night, as a matter of fact) sleeps on the pillows of our bed.

“Puh” and “puhppy”

“You have a black dog hair in your ear.”

“Get it out.” I command.  Just in case it’s a spider imitating a dog hair, or perhaps she can only see one of its legs.

“It will come out by itself.  No Q-tips.  No ear plugs.”  Does she not know Q tips are a necessity of mine?  And that from time to time my husband, maybe, possibly snores (lightly, mind you, sort of a “puh” exhale) and that if I don’t have earplugs in, I will hear every single “PUH“?

In her musical voice, she says, “perhaps the ear plugs may have had a dog hair on them when you placed them in your ear.”  Oh, yuck.  Note to self:  throw away all ear plugs.  Because I don’t place them in my ear, I JAM those suckers in.

Long story short, she checked me out thoroughly, told me I had a fever (I KNEW I WAS SICK) and a sinus infection and put me on antibiotics.  For those of you who don’t know, Schnuk’s pharmacies fill a lot of antibiotics for free, regardless of insurance.  Lovely pharmacy.

They also have Q tips and ear plugs.

*I LOVE my doctor.  She is awesome. 



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  • Mary Fran Says: Thank you for contributing to Sweeps Week! We make a great team. Maybe we'll collaborate in our next lives? SISTERS! lol :)
  • Mary Fran Says: What's better than a Baby Shower aka Early Baby Birthday Party? Baby's FIRST Birthday Party! (Although it's hard to call them "baby" by one! They grow
  • Ann Jones: I'll have to check it out, thanks for the heads up!

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