Baking in a Tornado: Pop Ups and Basal Twins: Fly on the Wall

There’s been so much going on around here. Lots of stresses. One family member selling her beautiful furnishings and moving. One son’s company moved him from a local campus to one in the next state over, we’re not sure for how long. Huge bills as our (woodpecker destroyed) house siding is finally being replaced, along with our old deck having been torn down and the new one (with my unique design) now being built, workmen all over the place. Car issues, relationship issues, and on and on.

Most stressful for me is that I had a few biopsies and had to go through two Mohs surgeries on my face for Basal Cell Carcinomas. In fact, I just had the second one 3 days ago. 

And Hubs, he’s such a nice guy, he actually had a sympathy procedure so I wouldn’t feel all alone. Not on his face, and no surgery, just a simple excision, but I’m not alone. We’re the Basal twins.

Just for the record, turns out I much prefer basil to basal.

After my first Mohs procedure I had a line of stitches on my cheek from about the middle of my nose, down to my lips. I had to change the dressing daily and it was difficult.

Me: It’s so hard to cover these stitches because in order to keep the dressing in place, the tape ends up over my nose and mouth. 

Hubs: That must be really uncomfortable.

Me: And, you know, I sorta need to be able to breathe. And talk.

Hubs: Well, you definitely need to be able to breathe.

Me: Umm, you forgot and talk. Or are you saying I don’t really need to be able to talk?

Hubs: On advice of counsel . . .

It was the day after my second procedure. I had just gotten the stitches out on one cheek, and had a huge bandage on my nose on the other side. My eye was swollen shut and I had a bruise under it.

And, of course, the deck installers rang the bell.

And, of course, Hubs was in the shower.

So I had to answer the door. Looking suspiciously like Frankenstein.

The poor installer took a step back. 

Installer: Were you in an accident?
Me: No, no accident

Installer: I know you didn’t get in a fight . . .

Me: Of sorts. You should have seen the other guy.

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Installer: The other guy?

Me: Yeah, the other guy, not a scratch on him. 

Of course that’s because the other guy was a doctor. With a scalpel. 

It had been broiling hot out. When it’s that hot, it just tires me out, I have no energy to do much of anything. 

I was headed for my reading chair in the office when I looked out the kitchen window and laughed at the squirrel on the deck.

Yeah, I feel ya, little buddy.

Hubs came home a few weeks ago with a gift from his company. No explanation, no idea what it was. We were curious. 

That was our first mistake.

It was a little pop up tent. Cute. Until we tried to put it away. Seems that what pops up does not necessarily pop back down.

We tried. Put up a valiant struggle, but that big thing was determined not to go back into that little round case. We tried everything. Even watched YouTube videos. Lots of them. Apparently, their tent can make like a pretzel. Ours cannot. Desperate, I even considered, well, emancipating it in the next storm. You know, in the spirit of “fly away, little tent, you’re free.”

In the end, it sat on the kitchen floor, mocking me.

Two days later:

Me: I’m sick of having to walk around that tent on the kitchen floor. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, and even if you don’t, is to get that thing out of my kitchen.

Hubs: I’ll try. Again.

And he did. I came home from doing errands and the tent was not in the kitchen.

Welcome to my den . . .

{{sigh}}

But the good news is that I can use the kitchen without tripping over a tent.

Marinated Mahi Mahi (Air Fryer or Oven)

We had a huge storm a few weeks ago, thunder, lightning, and whipping 80 mph winds. We stood in the kitchen and watched whole tree limbs crash down behind the house, and even worse, watched as chunks of our roof shingles landed around the yard and even on our back deck.

We were worried about the roof leaking, but to make matters worse, we lost electricity. Which meant the sump pump in the basement would not work and the basement could flood.

We did get the electricity back in time to save the basement, but the ceiling upstairs had water spots, one pretty large.

The next morning, we called the company we had dealt with years ago when we needed a new roof. I was pretty upset because I knew we’d have to at least get it tarped immediately, would end up paying a good chunk of money for a deductible, and would probably have to get on a waiting list. At this point we were just one week out from all of the home repairs and medical procedures. I was a wreck.

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The roof guy came out and phew, we got lucky. We didn’t need a new roof, just repairs. It would cost 1/3 of what our deductible would be, and they could do it that day.

Me (smiling): I am SO relieved I could kiss that guy.

Hubs: No reason to scare him off . . .

Hubs hears me yelling and comes running. I’m standing in front of the TV, which is showing a commercial for Boost Protein drinks.

Me: Oh my G-d. Oh my G-d.

Hubs: What’s the matter?

Me: Do you see that?

Hubs: You need a protein drink?

Me: Not the drink.

Hubs: Then what?
Me: The dress!
Hubs: You need the dress?

Me: My mom had that dress. Back in the 80s. That same dress!!

Hubs: I don’t get it.

But really, my mom had that dress!

Hubs has come a long way since the days when, if he wanted to text the boys, he had to call me and tell me what he wanted to text to them so I could do it. He still can’t send pictures, but at least he can text words.

But there’s still a lot he can’t do. He isn’t on social media and for the most part doesn’t understand it, but he functions at a level that makes him happy, using the few apps he’s interested in and spending a lot of time watching videos and reading articles.

But every now and then . . . 

Hubs is sitting on a chair in the den reading an article on his cell. I’m sitting on the couch watching TV when, while still reading, he turns towards me in his chair, and I’m suddenly blinded.

Me: Can you tell me why you’re reading an article with your flashlight on?

Hubs: Flashlight on?
Me: Oy.

Hubs and I were watching Olympics basketball. As much as I love watching the game, especially since so many Celtics are on the team, I completely disagree with allowing professionals to play anything at the Olympic games. I think it should be a showcase for amateurs only.

Me: Is there Olympics baseball? Do they let pros play? I wouldn’t agree with that either.

Hubs: I don’t know. Google it.

Me: I did and I’m shocked. Apparently France, a country where there is very little baseball played, was allowed to take baseball (where they would have virtually no chance of medaling) out of the games. And get this, they were allowed to replace it with breakdancing. I had no idea host countries could do that. That’s just not right.

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Hubs: So is there no softball either?
Me: They probably replaced it with the tango.

BTW, I loved the breaking (called breaking, not breakdancing) competitions, these people really were not only artistic, but talented athletes.

But still . . . baseball.

I may have a hard time breathing, and talking, (and if I can give anyone who goes through this some advice, I would say that no matter what you do, don’t, I mean DO NOT sneeze). The roof may have cost us a chunk of money we didn’t want to have to put out right now. The deck build may have stalled as a few of the boards came in broken. I may hate having to live with grilling withdrawal, and all of my deck furniture in my kitchen, but . . .

I had a little visitor in my front flower pot.

This little swallow let me walk right up to him (her?) and snap a picture. And he reminded me that with all of the tsuris (aggravation) raining down on my kop (head), I should end my day (and this blog post) with a smile.

Mission accomplished, little swallow. And thank you.

PS: No idea why I seem to be thinking in Yiddish today.