Friends! Romans! Countrymen! Actually... leave it just at friends. Unless you plan to knife me. Then we're not friends.

So there's good news and there's bad news. The bad news? This year I turn 40. The good news? I'm in EXCELLENT company!

Which is why, when months ago, one of the Bootie's mother's (Carala!) got in touch with me to make a super special 40th birthday weekend blowout for her precious baby, Meredith. We hashed it out, and Carala made some reservations, and after some super secret footwork on Carala's part, Meredith was sent out of her home last Friday night by her mother with a suitcase and promises that her twin daughters would be fine in her care for the weekend. She was sent with a map, and when she arrived, the front desk made a phone call and....

BOOTER REUNION!

Carala set us up for a weekend stay in Asheville very near the Biltmore House. We had a wonderful time, eating, getting pampered, touring Biltmore - but mostly catching up with each other, hugging through the hard conversations, listening with joy at the triumphs we celebrate, and learning more about each other and the lives we currently lead.

Carala had bought out Costco and sent it with Merri on the trip. There was wine, and wine, and some food and some more wine and really good cheese and wine, and some sweets, and fruit and shrimp salad and croissants. I didn't eat these, however.

fish eat fish food, not humans.

She also sent some flowers, which I had no idea what to do with. There were no vases in the condo, and the glasses weren't big enough for the bouquet. Which is why, when we went to bed, Merri yelled at me from her room, "Bootie, are my flowers in a blender?" to which I replied, "I couldn't find a vase!" I polled friend Sharon recuperating from ACL surgery at home via text to see if that was weird or not, and she assured me that putting flowers in a blender was a very resourceful and creative solution.

it works

Our first night, we went for a quick dinner at a local restaurant that I can't remember the name and kept saying it was "Ralalalala-something." It was very delicious! Rachel raved about the brussel sprouts to which I replied with a hearty "YUCK."

laughing after dinner. both booties insisted i change out of yoga pants and wear makeup to dinner so i decided to one them up with a hairdo. they called me megan kardashian the rest of the night.

The next morning was spa day!

i'll have three of everything please.

Then, off to tour the Biltmore Estate.

on the back porch

with the house at a distance

at the front door. please note that everyone always takes their pictures in the same order - me, merri, rachel. this allegedly gets everyone's 'good' side. that's what they tell me anyway....

After a late lunch, we went back to the condo to visit and it came as no surprise when no one wanted to go put on real clothes and go out to a restaurant. We ordered take-out instead and ate in our PJs.

rachel had to fight me to put a skirt on over my kitty pjs before going out for takeout. pjs in public is my milleau.

We had brunch the next morning, and then we went on our respective ways. We have all promised a Knoxville visit over the Easter holiday! Much fun, much laughter, many stories retold and made over the weekend. Thank you Lutz Family for including us in Merri's 40th birthday surprise plans!

But speaking of friends, the weekend started with a visit to poor Sharon to entertain her briefly while she recuperates from surgery. Ya'll? Getting well is BORING. Check out the string of text messages she sent me from bed the other evening:

and again the next morning - GOOD MORNING creepy kitty!

But Sharon's doing well - she only fell with her dog once this morning while walking her, and was only two minutes late to catch her bus!

sharon, heal thyself.

In other news, I ran across this in storage the other day.

the hell? what is this? is it real?

And that's all the news I got for today. Over and OUT!

Friends who have surgery together, stay together

Actual conversations had last week with various and sundry hospital staff members as I prepared for twinkie-hole surgery. (By the way - I had surgery last week. I could explain it in doctor words, but I won't. I'll just say what I told everyone - I had a mole removed out of my twinkie-hole.)

Me, being wheeled to pre-op on a gurney to orderly going down the hospital corridor: Huh. I've never seen a gurney from this perspective before. This is strange.

Orderly, bored: Mm-hmm.

Me: Wow. It's kinda like Mr. Toad's Wild Ride.

Orderly, still bored: What?

Me: Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. You know, from Disney World.

Orderly: No, can't say that I do.

Me: Well, it's this ride from the book Wind in the Willows. Mr. Toad drives your car, and he careens all over the place, kinda like you're doing now - no straight lines, ever - and doors open automatically when you get close to them, and it's a little unpredictable because you don't know what's going to happen next.

Orderly: Is it a roller coaster or something?

Me: Oh no, it's for little kids. It's pretty dinky actually. Next time you go, look for it - oh wait. You can't. They turned it into a Winnie the Pooh ride. Never been on that one. Anyway, gurney rides remind me of Mr. Toad's Wild ride. Haha, you're my Mr. Toad!

Orderly gratefully drops me off in pre-op room, and RN gets a jillion tubes out and attaches them to me.

RN: There you are, Megan. Doing ok?

Me: I'm just so thirsty. I can't have a sip of water?

RN: No, I'm sorry... here, I'll turn up your IV and give you a drink that way..... is that better?

Me: Erm...

RN: Here, this may help. It's a (insert doctor gobbltygoop) that wets your mouth. It tastes like a lemon drop.

Me, tasting the wet Q-tip thing: Oh.... yes, thank you.

RN: No lemon drop, huh?

Me: Not even a little bit.

Poor orderly returns to take me to OR.

Orderly: Ok here we are. Get up on the operating table.

Me: HEY! Aren't you going to pick me up like they do in the movies and put me on the table?

Orderly: Uh... no. You're awake and can do it yourself.

Me, sulkily: All right. (scootches off gurney and onto table) But what about when I wake up? Will you pick me up then?

Orderly: If you're still unconscious, yes, we'll pick you up.

Me, protesting: But I'll be asleep! I won't remember it!

Anesthesiologist arrives and puts me to sleep to the relief of everyone in the OR so I will finally shut the hell up.

What happens next happens allegedly... although I have some vague recollection of the following events:

Doctor: words words words words words (I have some memory of her talking to me but couldn't for the life of me tell you what she said. Thank god she talked to Mama too. Otherwise that golf-ball size wad of gauze that fell out of my twinkie hole three days later would have REALLY come as as shocker.) Ok, Megan, you're ready to go back to recovery now.

Orderly: Ok, get back on the gurney.

Me, groggily complying, when suddenly: OH WAIT!! Aren't you going to pick me up?

Orderly: SIGH. Ok... one two three, up!

Me: WHOOOOO-HOOOOOOOO!!!! JUST LIKE IN THE MOVIES!!!!

Then I think the joy knocked me back out again. In any event, I woke up in the recovery room and saw my nurse from surgery.

Me: Mona? Did you pick me up after surgery?

Mona: You don't remember? YOU YELLED.

Me: I did? Oh..... I did didn't I?

(I proceed to laugh hysterically. It's good to know I'm funny even when I'm unconscious. Mona shakes her head and walks away.)

After two minutes I turned to the RN and told her I was bored and thirsty for a Coke. She gave me one and took me back to my room.

I was home with Mama and the Dipper an hour later - and Max and Lucy who Mama had to physically restrain from jumping on me when I arrived. I think it's a testament to the awesomeness of the House of Venable that a weekend convalescing with my family was a wonderful two days of laughter and fun, with visits from friends, unexpected Valentines celebrations, and lots and lots of love.

Now! It's friend Sharon's turn to undergo the knife. WHY we did not arrange to have our surgeries on the same day, I'll never know. Our mothers could have shared the waiting room and taken turns on who was going to worry the most. In any event, Friday morning will be spent with friends who get operated together (or at least a week apart) STAY TOGETHER.

Over and out.

Why I can never be an Olympian

Actual conversation in the car with the First F'ing Lady:

Me: Hey did you see the Olympics opening ceremony?

FFL: Yeah, I watched part of it.

Me: Am I the only one who thought that snowflake thing was on purpose? I thought it was kind of pretty. Like they were trying to do something new and fancy with the Olympic rings? I was kinda disappointed to hear it was just a mistake.

FFL: Well, all the other snowflakes turned into rings and that one didn't. That didn't tip you off?

Me: No. I thought it was pretty!

FFL: Yeah, then you were the only one.

Me: Oh but hey did you watch the women's slope snow boarding?

FFL: Yeah.

Me: Did you see that girl? From Canada?

FFL: The one with the stupid curls?

Me: YES. That is not an athlete's hair! She did that on purpose and she looked STUPID. The Roomstress and I kept saying she looked like those Jewish men but we couldn't think of what that word was.

FFL: HASIDIC!!! I KEPT SAYING THAT TO DANIEL. He just got mad because I wouldn't stop yelling at the TV the only words I knew in Yiddish.

Me: She rolled her hair, on purpose, put on her helmet and pulled out those curls. Wouldn't that get in your eyes when you're skidding down a mountain at 60 miles per hour?

FFL: I KNOW. She needs like a barrette or something.

Me: And did you see at the opening ceremony the US team?

FFL: Those awful costumes?

Me: NO. How those girls were wearing their toboggans on the back of their heads like those idiot girls in high school would wear their mortar boards at graduation - perpendicular to the ground so as not to mash their ginormous bangs? They were doing that with their toboggans! IT IS WINTER. IN RUSSIA.Pull your hat down on your head and act like somebody.

FFL: I just get annoyed when I see those judges being so damn judge-ey.

Me: I KNOW, RIGHT? That one snow boarder girl was getting all sorts of praise and accolades and on her last jump she landed and barely scraped the ground with her bottom and the judges were all like "AAWWWWW NOOOOOO!!!!" If that had been me doing that I would have been like "HOLY SHITBALLS YA'LL DID YOU SEE WHAT I JUST DID?"

FFL: I KNOW! And the ice skating? I'm sorry, but that girl just jumped up, off the ground, on the ice, and turned around, in the air, and landed without falling on her ass or breaking a bone. That, is SERIOUS skill.

Me: And I have been hearing words like "triple sow cow" or "double toe loop" for my entire life, and I'm here to tell ya, I couldn't pick one out of a lineup.

FFL: WHAT THE HELL IS A TWIZZLE?

Me: And how in the HELL are you supposed to count how many times they turn around in the air? I'm like HOLY SHIT that chick just jumped up off the ice, cleared the ground and twisted a bunch of times in the air and landed without a trip to Bust Ass City. The end. Who knows how many times she turned around? SHE WAS GOING TOO FAST TO TELL.

FFL: I have a feeling that the Olympics are not in our future.

In other news,  you'll be delighted to know that the cold isn't keeping the stair crapper-uppers from their mission. Today on the stairs:

movies! at least they have good taste in flix.

And that's all I got for today. Over and out!

When will you people start listening to me??

Everyone should know that I love the children in my life. I do. I take my role as godmother to my nephew very seriously, and my niece has my heart in her hands. I dote on the children of my friends, and am honored when they ask me to spend time with the little ones. I promise to love and take care of your children to the best of my ability. 

See that last bit? I will love those kids, and protect them but I cannot promise that they won't get bumps or scrapes or broken bones or SOMETHING. I'm already planning battles for the children to engage in when we go to the beach this summer - so far, I'm up to three different kinds of battles. I like it rough and tumble, ya'll.

Bear that in mind as I recount this:

Last Christmas, friend Kristi asked me to take her little Bunny ice skating. And last Christmas was a rough Christmas, and that one hour block of time was the happiest I was during the whole Yuletide season. We held hands, laughed, skated, sang songs at the top of our lungs and that Kristi/Bunny date was a shiny shiny moment in an era of gray clouds.

However, in our pre-skating dinner together, Kristi confessed to me that one of the reasons she didn't want to take Bunny herself is because she has a horrible fear of having her finger skated over. I asked her to explain why, and she said it was because she read a book of the Dick and Jane variety (although in a wildly off-top subject, was horribly racist and terribly wrong) and in the book the girl got her finger skated over and had to go to the hospital. It made quite an impression on young Kristi and turned her off ice skating for the rest of her days.

she sent this picture the night after we went skating.

Fast forward one year later: it was no surprise that when this holiday season rolled around, I was having such a great Christmas with so many wonderful things going, that it only made sense to reprise that fun evening from last year. This year, however, DJ Smith's leading lady came along.

see me clutching the wall? that's how i 'skate.' the leading lady and the bunny were zipping around like penguins after just a few minutes while i continued to clutch the wall, hand over hand, all night. 

Bunny was trying to get me off the wall, and had very kindly held my hand and gingerly skated me to the middle of the rink so I could practice without having the tempting hand-hold of a wall right beside me. We were doing pretty good at it until she slipped and fell. I held her up by the one arm that was holding her hand, but she briefly put her other hand on the ice to gain her balance and step back up.

Yup.

She jumped up off the ice screaming in pain while I frantically tried to a. keep my balance, b. pick up a wailing child, and c. find Kristi in the crowd. Fortunately, a kind ice rink man got the Bunny picked up and I skittered clumsily along after him to one completely freaked out, terrified Kristi. She looked on the ice for her finger before I took her face in my hands and told her that the Bunny was all right.

But man. I felt really rotten. Especially later on that evening when I still crying Bunny bawled out to me "THAAANNKKK YOOU FOR TAKING ME SKAAATTTING," when Kristi prompted her.

I got home that night to this text picture:

just like in the book

But Bunny totally had my back after that night though. The Dipper ran into her during Christmas and was asking about her finger that got cut by "that mean old Megan." Bunny bucked up and retorted, "It wasn't her fault! It was an ACCIDENT." Fortunately, I got this picture just a few days ago:

healed! instead of the doctor, kristi took her to a nail salon to get advice. pretty smart, i think.

So! What have we learned, kids? If you leave children in my care, I will love and protect them. I will entertain them and we will have a jolly good time. However, I will do things like let them take their coats off in freezing weather, run with sharp objects and encourage rough and tumble behavior. This, at times, does have its consequences.

In other news, I saw this yesterday:

what the hell is going on here?

And that's all I got. Over and out.

Bloody Mary (Ann)

So I realize that during the winter folks in this area have to deal with a lot of critters in the house - lady bugs, stink bugs, etc. And since Mama and the Dipper live in the woods, they have to deal with an ESPECIAL lot of bugs in the house during the winter months. Or we could blame Mama's skills as a domestic goddess, but let's not, shall we?

Mama being the tender-hearted lovely lady she is used to brush the offending critters onto a piece of paper and empty them out a window or door. The Dipper, as a killer or God's creatures, has never suffered such an affliction, and can usually be found with a roll of tape in his hands, taping up beetles and bugs and tossing the offending creatures into the trash. Mama would often bewail the poor insects in the trash, being taped to death among other bits of debris.

Until recently that is. The overwhelming stink bug population just became too much. So Mama got her....

A DUSTBUSTER. Cue Bloody Mary (Ann).

So now phone conversations with Mama go something like this:

Me: So we're still on for lunch tomorrow, right?

BM(A): Mmm-hmm, one sec, stink bug....

(Dustbuster whirs in the background)

MB(A): Got him. Sorry, what were you saying?

Or, if I'm on the phone with both Mama and the Dipper:

Me: Hey, I have some great new-

BM(A): STINK BUG!!!!

(phone clatters to the floor and the Dipper and I listen in stunned silence to the whir of the Dustbuster in the background)

BM(A): Got him. Sorry, what were you saying?

Which is why last night's phone conversation was no surprise:

Me: So how was your trip?

BM(A): Good - oh, stink bug!

(Dustbuster whirs in background)

BM(A): Huh. He got away. He was at the top of the light fixture but when I got over there with the Dustbuster I must have knocked him back in. I'll get him though, I can see him in the light.

Me: My money's on you.

BM(A): I know! Heh, heh, heh! Anyway, what were you saying?

Me: I was asking about your trip. You had a good time?

BM(A): Oh yes, we had such a good time. I had such a nice visit catching - OH! There he is!

(Phone clatters, Dusbuster whirs)

BM(A): I missed him AGAIN! He's back in the light now.

Me: 0 for two? You're off your game.

BM(A): I must be. Maybe it's jet lag. Anyway, yes, the funeral was very nice, and it was very well attended. Do you remember Murray? He died when you were about eleven - there he is again!

(Phone clatters, Dusbuster whirs)

BM(A): Darn it I missed him again! He saw me coming with the Dustbuster and crawled back in the light!

Me: Wait a minute. They're LEARNING?

BM(A): They must be. As soon as I started walking over there with the Dustbuster, he crawled back in.

Me: Holy shit, Mama. THEY'RE LEARNING. You have to get out of the house.

BM(A): Oh don't be ridiculous.

Me: I'm serious, Mama! It's cockroaches that will inherit the earth after we kill the ozone layer once and for all! He's going to murder you in your sleep! GET OUT WHILE YOU CAN.

BM(A): You and your father. Always overreacting. OH! THERE HE IS AGAIN.

In other news, I have no more news. Over and out for another week.