We're having a breathless sort of week in my house. For months, my son has been struggling with his asthma and last week, a chest infection has sent him spiraling downward. This week alone has seen ten hours in doctors offices, one chest xray, seven prescription drugs to be taken daily, and at least ten breathing treatments a day (including throughout the night). And to top it off, my husband is away all week (a twice-yearly experience that always makes me want to send flowers to all single moms and military wives I know because these women deserve medals for doing it solo all the time).
Yesterday, we spent three hours at the doctor's office as our pediatrician did her best to keep us out of the hospital. I love love love our pediatrician, one of those fabulous doctors who takes the time to talk to you and never makes you feel like she's just thinking about the next patient she has to see.
After popping in to the exam room to check on our progress, Dr. B spied my copy of Sara Gruen's Ape House (loved it, by the way -- not as much as Water for Elephants, but only because WforE is one of my all time favorite books). We had a great chat about books and exchanged some recommendations. She also told me about the book club she belongs to. I must admit that as she was telling me about it, I felt like a high school wannabe, fairly desperate to join this group of cool kids.
A group of sisters created Buttery Books, a book club that does themed book club parties, complete with recipes, etc. You can check out their website here. I love their selection of books and the recipes and ideas are great. You can also contribute your own ideas and suggestions to their site.
If you go visit, I'd love to hear what you think.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Time Rewind*
I've never been a fan of daylight savings. It throws me off for days and I hate losing an hour of sleep, whether in reality or in theory. And it is safe to say that this year was the worst clock change ever.
At 5:00am on Sunday morning (or 6:00am, depending on which clock in my house you were looking at), I was awakened by a loud crash and the sound of breaking glass. I immediately sat up in bed, heart pounding and knees absolutely weak, thinking for sure that someone was breaking into the house. What freaked me out even more is that my husband didn't even move. I swear, that man could sleep through an air horn held to his head. I kicked him (literally) a few times and whispered "Did you hear that?" to which he replied "Huh?"
I jumped out of bed, realizing that the phone was in the other room, that my children were sleeping upstairs, and that I had nothing I could grab as a weapon. So, armed with the only heavy thing I could find -- a copy of Hilary Mantel's "Wolf Hall" -- I crept out of the bedroom and into the living room. My husband finally got up and snuck up behind me, almost getting himself Manteled in the process. While the smart thing to do would have been to turn the light on (thereby surprising any possible intruder), we stumbled around in the dark trying to find who or what made the crash. And finally, we discovered what it was.
This:
Apparently, my husband had come home from a work party late Saturday night after I was already asleep. He decided to change the clocks before retiring. He changed the wall clock and replaced it on the wall, but managed to miss the hanger on the back. It took approximately four hours of ticking for the clock to slide off the end of the nail.
Next year, I'm going to skip daylight savings all together and just keep my own time.
*This is a repost of a post I did back in March. Last night, I forbade my husband from touching our new clock.
At 5:00am on Sunday morning (or 6:00am, depending on which clock in my house you were looking at), I was awakened by a loud crash and the sound of breaking glass. I immediately sat up in bed, heart pounding and knees absolutely weak, thinking for sure that someone was breaking into the house. What freaked me out even more is that my husband didn't even move. I swear, that man could sleep through an air horn held to his head. I kicked him (literally) a few times and whispered "Did you hear that?" to which he replied "Huh?"
I jumped out of bed, realizing that the phone was in the other room, that my children were sleeping upstairs, and that I had nothing I could grab as a weapon. So, armed with the only heavy thing I could find -- a copy of Hilary Mantel's "Wolf Hall" -- I crept out of the bedroom and into the living room. My husband finally got up and snuck up behind me, almost getting himself Manteled in the process. While the smart thing to do would have been to turn the light on (thereby surprising any possible intruder), we stumbled around in the dark trying to find who or what made the crash. And finally, we discovered what it was.
This:
Our Wall Clock
Apparently, my husband had come home from a work party late Saturday night after I was already asleep. He decided to change the clocks before retiring. He changed the wall clock and replaced it on the wall, but managed to miss the hanger on the back. It took approximately four hours of ticking for the clock to slide off the end of the nail.
Next year, I'm going to skip daylight savings all together and just keep my own time.
*This is a repost of a post I did back in March. Last night, I forbade my husband from touching our new clock.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Unh.
I had grand plans for November. I was going to start writing WIP2 (the month is a coincidence; I'm not participating in NaNoWriMo), finish another serial for the magazine, do a whole bunch of freelance work, start exercising, drink less, and eat better.
Um...fail fail fail fail fail fail.
First problem? TOO. MUCH. CANDY.
My son has a nut allergy, so we buy a mixed pack of candy that's safe for him and when he comes back from trick-or-treating ("guising" in British parlance, a term that I just love), we swap the off-limits stuff for the safe stuff. Which means we now have a big bowl of Butterfingers, Reese's, Snickers... all my favorites. I had two for breakfast. Plus one more with my third cup of tea. And a few afer lunch.
And speaking of lunch, that brings us to the second problem. I went to my husband's work place to get my flu shot and we decided to go to lunch after we got our jabs. We ended up at Babe's Old Fashioned Burgers. Big, drippy, loaded burger with a side of real onion rings and a large unsweet tea. Yummm... But now, unh.
I'll write tomorrow. And exercise. And eat better. But for now, I need a nap. Afer just one more Twix.
Um...fail fail fail fail fail fail.
First problem? TOO. MUCH. CANDY.
My son has a nut allergy, so we buy a mixed pack of candy that's safe for him and when he comes back from trick-or-treating ("guising" in British parlance, a term that I just love), we swap the off-limits stuff for the safe stuff. Which means we now have a big bowl of Butterfingers, Reese's, Snickers... all my favorites. I had two for breakfast. Plus one more with my third cup of tea. And a few afer lunch.
And speaking of lunch, that brings us to the second problem. I went to my husband's work place to get my flu shot and we decided to go to lunch after we got our jabs. We ended up at Babe's Old Fashioned Burgers. Big, drippy, loaded burger with a side of real onion rings and a large unsweet tea. Yummm... But now, unh.
I'll write tomorrow. And exercise. And eat better. But for now, I need a nap. Afer just one more Twix.
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