TheTravelingZipperhead.com

OK OK OK I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been gone for a while. But in my defense, I had a baby and you also know that I’m VERY lazy. I’ve had a few other hiccups along the way as well. See I’m not one to use a baby as an excuse, but it does seem that when I have time, I have nothing to say, but when I have no time, I have loads of things to say. I need someone to follow me around and take shorthand of everything I say. ( Because they are all little nuggets of gold you know.) Then later I can review the thoughts and conversations of the day and transcribe the good stuff. Hmmm, second thought that could also be used against me in a court too. better not. Maybe I just need a reality show.
Of course, then I’d be adding to the problem of society of today. Everyone thinks they are special because their mommy told them so. They think everyone cares what they have to say and what they are doing. That’s why there are endless blogs (ummm scratch that) an abundance of over-sharing on Facebook, Twitter in general, Pinterest, etc. Don’t even get me started on Pinterest. Do we really care what other people think about a certain dress and if its ok for prom, what hairstyle a total stranger half a continent away likes, or how to make a bathroom rug out of an old T-shirt? When did your best friend’s opinion no longer matter as much as an internet full of bored housewives?

I did not get back on here to ramble on about the evils of social media, hell I’m on them myself, but to re-do this blog. I have embarked on a few new journeys. I am still the same zipperhead, working through a world of challenges and grateful for every day I get. I try to maintain my optimism along with my sarcasm, but now I am a mother, a home-maker (that doesn’t even hurt anymore to say) and I’m newly gluten free.
I will not be traveling much in the near future, but I will still reminisce on past trips, and hope for new ones in the future.
My (hopefully) daily posts will be on food I’ve made, food I’ve grown, weight I’ve lost (down 30 lbs so far), and anything else that may come to mind.
You know I do not post pics of kids on here. I don’t believe in that, but I will maybe indulge in a funny story from time to time.
I hope you will stay with me and I hope more will join in the fun as I revamp the site. I hope to have real people too, not just the 586 spammers I have right now. If I could figure out my password, I’d start tweeting again too!

We are heading back to AR today for my grandmother’s 80th birthday.  I bought this beautiful cake and I’m posting a before pic.  I did not think about the crappy Oklahoma roads. I’m also wishing we would have remembered the radio station in south eastern OK we liked.
Before we left, I filled up our bubba kegs and then proceeded to spill one all over the back floorboard.  Awesome.  I should have poured it out in OK.  I didn’t realize the state was on fire.

Well tomorrow is anyway.  This time last year I was freaked the hell out.  I really was not sure I would live through the surgery.  I reached the age my dad was when he got sick last year, and this year, on my 34th birthday, I will outlive him.  That messes with a kid.  I say kid because I was back to the age I was when he died when I realized this.  Back then I knew 34 was too young, but as a 10 year old, I also thought 34 was old.  Now I see what a lifetime has gone by since he’s been gone.  That is another blog for another day, but it lets you peek into my head (pun intended) as to what I was feeling one year ago today.

We got up early the morning of the 8, it was Monday.  The captain and I picked up my mom and headed to the hospital.  I was to be the first surgery that day.  8am.  We sat in a tiny little pre-op room for several hours while my mom and the Captain took turns sneaking out for breakfast and then lunch.  I would have been hungry, but I was too scared of what they were going to do to think of food.  That and my support crew smelled like hospital food.  That will kill any appetite.  They took me into another pre-op where I was only allowed one visitor at a time, and I met with the anesthesiologist and saw my doc for the first time that day.  I remember him asking me if I was a natural red-head.  I said sometimes, but then realized I should have told him he picked a hell of a time to ask if the carpet matched the drapes.  I’m much wittier about 5 seconds after its too late.

The rest was a little hazy.  I remember walking into the OR and having a conversation with people.  They swear that I was still on the bed, but I could swear I was walking.  I know the drugs would not hinder my memory.  I definitely walked into the OR.  Somehow they must have gotten me to sit down or lay down, because I woke up with the worst headache I’ve ever had in my life.  And that is saying something.  I could hear the Captain and my parents, and I was so grateful they were there.  I wanted to tell them I loved them, and thank them for being there.  I wanted to ask if anyone had been home to let out the puppies, but I couldn’t move and I couldn’t speak.  They left the room and I could see them through the window of the ICU, and my mom waved.  The next three nights were full of vampires coming in in the night, taking my blood, giving me pills, asking me if I knew who I was, where I was, or what my birthday was.  There was a cold sponge bath that first night too.  I can’t talk about it.  I can’t stand for strangers to hug me, let alone that.  we will never speak of it again.  The nicer nurses laughed it off when I made up answers to their questioning me every hour.

“Do you know where you are?”  -Yes, in a torture chamber.  “What’s your name?” – what’s YOUR name? good times.  Except the sponge bath.

It was all fun and games until I I saw my head looked like this:

This is why we are called Zipperheads.  The staples in our heads look like zippers.

At one time I had great hair.  It was long, curly, and has been many different colors over the years.  After having to wash my hair in baby shampoo and then getting back into the pool,  it was fried.  There is still a lot of it, however, and even when it looked like this, you really couldn’t tell when I had my hair down.  Other than me itching.  Man did it itch.

Once my hair started growing out, I would wear my hair in what was known as the T.

This was me with my hair up, out of the new growth, so it could breath, and the longer hairs wouldn’t get stuck in the new hair that was just trying to make a life for itself in this world.

I discovered something in all this.  I loved my hair, we all knew that, and I would panic when I was younger thinking I would die if anything ever happened to it.  But now, I wear my scar with pride.  I love my scar.  I would prefer no one touch it, but I am very proud of what I went through.  Everyone has knee surgery, or a bypass, but how many people had a hole drilled in their head and part of their brain removed, and still function on a normal(ish) level?

I didn’t get a medal for going back to work after three weeks, in fact I received a bad review because I didn’t help out well enough when someone else was out shortly after I got back.  I started training to help out while I was still supposed to be out -but I’m not bitter (yes I am).

Instead I got this, a reminder that life is too short to sweat the small stuff.   You just don’t know what is going to happen next, or what is around the corner.  You only get right now.  When you’re sitting in your office, and you can’t get along with your co-worker, or you wonder why somebody is closed off to you, it doesn’t matter.  In the grand scheme of things, nobody cares.  Pay attention to the things that matter, and the rest will just fade into the  background.

I do have a confession, I actually knew all this, I’ve known it since I was 10.  But know I have a pretty cool 7″ scar to go with it!

So much can happen in two years.
Two years ago today, this was the view off my balcony.
Two years ago today I woke up a single woman, and went to sleep married.
In the two years since we were in paradise, the Captain has realized how far from paradise we really are.  Poor guy.  He tried to Lemon Law me after he found out how defective I really am.

Maybe I should start making these every day.  I wonder if the Captain will forget that I’m pregnant and hormonal.  Maybe he won’t think about the dogs that I’ve brought into the house.  The stinky, noisy, loud dogs that disrupted he and the fiery furball in their quiet home.

I’ll start putting up pictures like this so the Captain will forget about the brain surgery and the fact that I am a terrible house cleaner.

Maybe I’ll just give him rum every night.

We’ve had some interesting weather this week.  The Captain finally got over the flu, but he was still not allowed to go anywhere.  I ensured he would not be trying to get out by parking my truck crooked in the middle of the driveway, and left it there, in the ice.

Until today, I had not left the house since Tues and we won’t talk about when I showered in that time.  I woke up Tues morning about 3ish to hear it pouring down sleet.  I was on the couch so I would not be exposed to the Captain’s germs.  Yes I could have gone to the spare room, but there is no TV there.  We got about 3/4″ of ice in total, and unlike most other times here in Texas, it did not melt the next day. Nor did it melt the day after that, or the day after that.  Then, when the roads looked like they might be drivable the day after that, it snowed.  The weather people said we would get about an inch or less.  We got four inches.  Mixed in with a little more sleet in there too, so we have a layer of ice, then a few inches of snow, then a thin layer of ice, topped with another inch of snow.

There were, however, two critters I know of who loved this development.  One of the these two is either part husky, or just plain dumb.  I have my vote, but you make up your own mind.

Here is a string of pictures to help you decide:

I’ll let you decide.

I truly hate it when the Captain is sick. It’s not very often, I’ll admit that, but once in a while, it does. He has the dreaded swine now, so I’ve quarantined him to the bedroom. We were supposed to get up early yesterday and go play. It was beautiful and I had big plans of Swedish meatballs at Ikea after we picked up the 40lbs of chicken I bought on the other side of town. We almost never go to Plano, Frisco, etc, but when we do, we make a day of it.
I received the dreaded call Friday afternoon. I thought he was calling to gloat that he was heading home and I was stuck there for a few more hours. Turned out, he was sick. Now, I love the Captain, but he’s been known to exaggerate how sick he is sometimes. I’ve compared notes and discovered it’s a male thing. So I didn’t think too much of it. Then I got home….
Fever of 101.6, ok that’s something. I was still hoping he would perk up by Saturday morning, but he did not. I went to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription and asked him what to give him. He told me his symptoms sounded like H1N1 and said to try and get him a script for tamiflu. We called our wonderful (yes that’s sarcasm) GP and he called in a script for antibiotics. Great, that’s helpful.
Now had someone gotten a flu shot to begin with, we wouldn’t be in this mess. The Captain is not a chicken, for the most part. He flies planes, drove his car around the Nurburg ring, and lives with me. All of these are risky, but the tiniest prick of a needle ? Not happening.
Now, I feel bad for the guy, and I want him to feel better. I don’t like it when he’s not feeling well. This has nothing to do with the fact that I have to sleep on the sofa (the spare room has no TV), feed the fiery fur ball of death and make sure she has her pill, and I can’t take a bath in my own bathroom. I can’t help but notice, however, that I have been running up and down the stairs with food, meds, and drinks. The Captain has been sleeping, watching TV and goofing off. I’m not so sure I’m going to get him to get a flu shot in the future.

I hope everyone had their black eyed peas today.  I’m not sure why we do this, or even when I started doing this.  I know my dad one day told me to do it.  And of course, I ALWAYS listened to my parents!  Haa
I am tired if all the posts on Facebook today saying they hope 2011 treats them better than 2010 and complaining about the year etc…    just for the record, a year doesn’t have anything against you, it can’t decide whether you have a good year or bad one.  It’s a measurement of time. You are the only one who can make it good or bad, its all in how you tackle it.  Don’t feel sorry for yourself, a number doesn’t care.  Oh and eat your peas!
I have decided my resolution this year is to eliminate negative people from my life.  Life is too short to listen to someone who always complains.
It’s not just for me this year, the Captain and I are expecting a little baby friend this summer.  I want my kids to be surrounded by positive people.
I was so lucky this year; I had brain surgery, it helped some, the Captain and I spent more time on the lake, and we got to spend time with our families whom are all doing well.   The Captain is happy because he got Gran Turismo 5 for Christmas and the week after to play it.
Oh my other resolution this year is to try to blog everyday, not that anyone but spammers are commenting. Haa

Happy 2011  make it a great year!

I went in for a flu shot today. I have not had one in 14 years. Are you sitting down? I know this is a shocker, but I’m allergic to them. I found this out in college. I went to the infirmary to get a shot. They asked “are you allergic to chicken feathers or eggs?”. “……um yes? I mean no, what’s the right answer that will get me the shot so I can be on my way.” I could only get them to give me a skin test, kinds like a TB test. They shoot a little bit under your skin and wait for a reaction. My arm swoll (that is an Oklahoma verb btw) up turned red, and has a giant white knot where the needle went in. The nurse yanked me by my good arm into a room and shot me in the butt with the equivalent of like 7 benedryl. Somehow I made it across the street to the dorm, pushed the button and woke up a day later in my bed staring at a cheeseburger. Apparently my roomate’s boyfriend found me in the elevator and brought me home. He said he was going to McDonald’s and asked if I needed anything. Looks like I told him I wanted a cheeseburger. I guess told him all about what happened too, I talk in my sleep a lot. I think that’s how my mom used to bust me when I was in high school. Come into my room, and ask me what I had been up to while I was sleeping.

Anyway, fast forward to today. I was excited. In the past 14 years I had had the flu 14 times. This year, it’s not going to happen. Until I get to the office and they ask if I have any anti histamines in my system. I was getting tested for food allergies too. I miss eating shrimp. “nooooooooo?” I answered. They didn’t believe me and stuck me with a histamine. Almost no reaction, so they wouldn’t do the test. Now to me, this says that as long as I continue taking my allergy pills, I can eat shrimp! Woohoo! They didn’t give me the flu shot either, I have to wait longer for that.

We made it to AR, just in time for it to really start sleeting. It was pretty because it was after we got there that it got crazy icy. Before that we stayed the night in Eufaula OK. Its a small town on a beautiful lake. There is something about lake towns in OK. The people there are hicks. Now, I’m not saying that in a hateful way. I love hicks. I love to hear how you put a lift kit on your Hemi, or when you talk about your “old man”. See, something happens to me when I hear someone say they ain’t seen nothing, or anything along those lines. The hick in me instantly comes out. I can’t help it, my accent gets thicker, my words get slower, and my language gets more colorful. And I don’t mean swearing, God knows that couldn’t get worse.

We made it there, and we made it back home. We got the dogs, and Tazzi got a haircut. She was looking like a hippy. Now I’m laying in bed while Rosco gasses me out. I don’t know what they give that boy, but I think I see paint peeling off the walls.

I’m going to go find something to put in my nose so I can’t smell anything. Maybe tomorrow I’ll tell you about my bladder infection on the road. That always makes for a fun time……

Remember what I said about road trips?  Well we are driving to NW AR right now.  We are in Sherman as we speak, and the Captain is driving because I don’t drive at night, or in the rain, or when I don’t have to.  It took roughly two hours to go 6 miles.  Ok not 6 miles but not more than 10. 
The Captain just asked if I have any drugs on me to put me out.  I’m guessing he does not like my helpful driving tips. 
I don’t know if I’m alone here, but my balance issues are not limited to just walking.  I’m pretty sure at any minute the car will trip, or another car will cause us problems.  As a result of this, I drive like I walk. 
Slowly, in the middle and pay very close attention to obstacles.  Some people call them cars and every one we pass I just know is going to drive into us. This makes me jump, slam my foot onto the imaginary brake on the passenger side, point out every cop I see, do my own random speed checks, and grab the handles while squealing.  I’m sure that’s not annoying at all.  I read somewhere that Scorpios are the best drivers because they can sense what the other drivers are going to do.  I’m still looking for the link that supports this by the way, if you see it please send it.  I always thought I was in tune with the universe.  I could feel the earth turning, I could feel when stop lights are going to change, all that.  Turns out I am just dizzy and paranoid.
Have a Happy and Safe Thanksgiving! I have to go now, I have to concentrate on the Captain’s driving.