I Hope My Keys Catch The Pink Eye

I've seen hell.


This is what it looks like:  Being stuck in the house for an entire day with your two small daughters because one had pink eye and could not go to school, only to wake up the next day to find your keys are missing, rendering you unable to meet your friends at the McDonald's Playland where you were hoping you could regain your sanity.  


And can I just point out how sad it is that I was looking forward to going to a McD's Playland at all?  To have something that lame taken away, when it was my only dream for the day, is seriously tragic.  I mean, I put on jeans and everything for this event.  I showered!


On that note, do you know what is super fun?  Giving your child eye drops three times a day for seven days.  It's clear that the genius who came up with this plan had not experienced the dramatics of a 5 year old little girl.  I'm running out of both bribes and the will to live.  It's got me wondering what would be the worst case scenario if pink eye went untreated.  I mean, Helen Keller lived a very full life and she was also deaf and mute.  So really, this would be a step up.  


Of course I'm kidding, I had pink eye once and it is very uncomfortable.  You know how people usually get pink eye from other people in settings like classrooms or work?  Well, that's not how I roll.   I attended camp once as a kid and one of the better parts of the experience were the horse back riding lessons.  And because I always choose the underdog, I chose this little pony named P.J. (Pride and Joy) because no one else wanted him and he was so cute and ugly at the same time.  Like Johnny Depp, he looked like he needed a good scrub.  


P.J. and I had some great lessons and times together.  One morning I woke up and my eyes were crusted shut.  I know, yum.  Turns out, that little bastard P.J. had pink eye and gave it to me. 


I know you don't believe me, so I will provide you with this link.  Can you get pink eye from an animal?


Once when I told this story to co-workers I had to call my dad, who is a doctor, and put him on speaker phone to prove I wasn't full of crap.  Well, for that anyway.  Although, I'm not sure they ever bought it because my dad is an OB/GYN.  


One time my husband tried to convince his co-workers that our kitten had given him a cold.  I think they still give him crap about it.  Now that I put these two stories together, I have to wonder what's wrong with us.


There's no point to this post.  Sorry.  Just pray that tomorrow I can leave my house.

Mrs. Pool & Gun Stores

So, as I mentioned here, we recently spent a few days in Texas.  I was there because I was one of those glowing, dancing people wearing a box on my head that you saw during the Black Eyed Peas half time show.  Ok, that's a lie.  It was related to my husband's work, but that is all I will say.  Because if we learned anything from 
Dooce, it is that we do not dare discuss our work lives as it may lead to being fired, and then becoming a blogger so successful and famous that both spouses can stay home and live entirely off the blog. 


If my husband and I stayed home together all day long, I think the greatest competition ever would be seeing who could hold off on calling the divorce lawyers the longest.  I'm pretty sure one of us would cave by 10am the first day.  So, for the love of our marriage we don't want to become famous or millionaires.  


I felt an enormous amount of pressure on this trip, knowing the rumors and cliches about Midwesterners are abundant. They think we run around tipping cows while wearing our cheese head hats and talking like the people in the movie Fargo.  Given this, I got off the plane with a great sense of purpose, as I was going to single handedly dispel these goofy thoughts.  I would be the poster child for The New and Improved Awesome Midwesterner.  
Three seconds after the plane landed in Dallas someone strolled by me and dropped their belt, which I picked up and handed back to them.  What a great Midwestern gal I am!  We're so kind!  The person said thank you, and I swear on all that is holy and pure I ACTUALLY SAID "You betcha!".


 I decided to revise my thinking.  So I like cheese and beer and I say 'you betcha'.  Bite me.  


Side note: This reminds me of a story a Wisconsin friend of mine told me.  She was visiting the New Jersey area, where accents are....quite strong, shall we say?  After she had been talking to one particular New Jersey resident he started laughing and said to her, "You guys all sound like Mrs. Pool!".  Remember Mrs. Pool?      
She was also on Ferris Buellers Day Off as the secretary.  "You've been sick niiiine times."  OK, if you don't remember her this sucked.  No, actually you suck, because you should know Mrs. Pool.  


Back to Texas:




With my new found Midwestern sense of self-righteousness, I went on to explore North Texas.  It was a bit of a strange viewing because the area had been slammed with a winter storm, a rarity for them.  But the area was beautiful, even covered in ice and snow.  And the people were so kind, even covered in ice and snow.  


In an effort to dispel stereo types about Texans, I have to tell you that I only saw two cow boy hats and one man carrying a saddle through the airport.  Other than that it was just like anywhere else.  Except for this one thing.....I have to show you what I saw.  This is a store that was right near our hotel.  It was glorious and terrifying all at once.  



Ummmm......I'm not sure what to say, so I'm going to let this be one of those times that a picture speaks for itself.


The only other issue I had was the accent.  I prided myself on the fact that I would hardly notice the accent, as my stepmother is Southern and has lived with my dad in Virginia since I was very young. I've always thought people were slightly goofy when they complained about Southern accents.  This Texas accent, though, was something else entirely.  At times, I felt I probably could have translated Russian with greater ease.  We ordered dinner at a BBQ place (yes!) and we grabbed two bottles of beer.  A lovely young teen girl behind the counter said happily to me, "wouldya'lllackahnahcecoldglassforyerbev-rage?"  It was not just the accent, it was the speed they used while talking in their accent.  I sat there like she had just asked me a math question that required math skills beyond a 4th grade level, while my husband answered for me.  Turns out she had asked me if I would like an ice cold glass for my beverage.  Who could know? 


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I forgot to reveal what my one truth was in this post.  I actually fainted on the Capital steps while Janet Reno recited the Pledge of Allegiance.  I'm sorry it wasn't the Oprah one, I know how badly you needed it to be.  But that wench never calls me.