Low Battery

I went to bed early last night, I was exhausted. I was in a deep sleep, and all of a sudden, I got woken up to the sound of a robotic woman's voice:

(beep!) LOW BATTERY.

WTF??? I bolted out of bed (thank God I didn't hurl myself off of my loft, I was so scared). I looked at my cell: 11:50 pm. Did my friend leave her phone at my house? Who said that? It took me a minute to get my bearings, then I realized it probably came from my smoke detector. Of course it couldn't just beep, it had to have some scary voice attached to it. I wondered when it would beep again. Could I go back to sleep? Of course not.

It happened again half an hour later:

(beep!) LOW BATTERY.

All right, all right!I couldn't listen to this thing all night. I unscrewed the thing from the wall (Thank God I could reach it from my loft and I didn't need a ladder!). I took the batteries out, and it screeched a little. It seemed like it was alive. I didn't want to put new batteries in it in case it beeped when I put them in.

I put the new batteries and the detector next to me, as if it was some rejected lover. How pathetic. My imagination took over and I thought it was going to come to life and smother me. I saw it covering my whole face, like it had a life of its own. I said to myself, "You have GOT to stop reading so much Stephen King!"

I prayed that no fire or carbon monoxide would come to the house in the eight hours I would need to sleep, and dozed off. Woke up safely this morning, and put the new batteries in. Sure enough, it tested itself by beeping and talking:

(beep, beep, beep!) FIRE!
(beep!) CARBON MONOXIDE HAS BEEN DETECTED.

Then it stopped. Thank God I waited till morning. She's been quiet all day. I'll sleep with one eye open.

Things I am Thankful For

It may sound corny, but every year at Thanksgiving I make a mental list of things I am thankful for. This year, I'll do it here. In no particular order, I am thankful for:

• paying off my student loans
• being out of debt
• not bouncing a check for years
• every test I have at the doctor's coming back normal
  
• wonderful friends
• wonderful friends
• wonderful friends
• having a roof over my head and enough to eat
• my family
• my cat
• good hair
• making peace with both my mother and my father before they died
• my therapist
• a job and profession that I love
  
• bubble baths
• my iPod
• tea
  

Tales of Thanksgiving

I'm staying home this year. I was going to go to New York to be with my brother and sister-in-law, but then Shelby got sick, and I got sick, and the last thing I wanted to do was get on a bus for five hours and do it again in three days. Yesterday I looked forward to leaving work at 1:00 so I could have four and a half days to myself. I'd gotten tons of invitations, but I was, and still am, feeling rather antisocial. But I wanted Thankgiving dinner.

I came upon a marvelous idea right before I was about to go home. I called my favorite New York Deli restaurant in Brookline, Zaftig's, and asked if they had a Thanksgiving dinner to go. The man on the phone said not specifically, but I could get the regular turkey dinner that was always on the menu; it came with potatoes, stuffing, the works. I said I'd be right over.

They had it ready when I arrived, and I was so excited, I rushed home and wolfed it down. I ate half of it, so I could have the other half today, on Thanksgiving. Imagine! Thankgiving dinner without leaving the house! I treated myself to two Dunkin' Donuts for dessert; who needs pie?

It's 10:00 am. Too early for dinner. I'm reflecting on Thanksgivings past. When I was a kid, we always schleped from our apartment in Manhattan to my Grandma's in Queens. I hated going over there. "Do we have to go to Grandma's?" I would whine. Going to Grandma's was fun at first. My mom, dad, brother, and I would take the subway for what seemed like hours, and my brother would make me laugh while he made faces behind my father's back.

We'd get to Grandma's and play some more, and then came dinner. It was pretty good, except for the turnips Grandma always tried to get me to eat. "She eats like a bird!" she'd screech about me. After dinner was when it got bad. Mom, Dad, and Grandma would all get drunk, and we'd stay for the longest time, until it got really dark and cold, and then we'd have to make the long trek back to Manhattan, tired and humorless.

As I got older, I'd spend Thanksgivings with boyfriends, girlfriends, and friends; we stopped doing Thanksgiving at Grandma's when I was about twelve, I'd say. In recent years I've had Thanksgiving at friends' houses; last year, I was in California with my cousins. This year, I want to be by myself. My friend Amy says it's a new stage in my life. It feels good.

So far, I've eaten breakfast, given Shelby the first of her three pills of the day, and started reading a new novel. Think I'll make myself another cup of tea. Happy Thanksgving!

Phone Call

I had just put my bag down at Liz's house and was preparing to relax, when my cell phone rang. It was Sarah. "Alex, I can't find Sylvester! I have to tell the Terminix man that we'll have to reschedule!" NO WAY. I am NOT going through this again. "I'll find Sylvester!" I growled. I stormed all the way back to my house and went to Sarah's condo.

Mr. Terminix, who had been at our house for an hour, sat on the steps. He said to me, "You have five minutes. I have other clients." I did one pass through the house, no Sylvester. I would not give up. On the second pass, I opened the bedroom closet and pushed aside some clothes. Sylvester was curled up in a ball, trying to be invisible. I grabbed that cat so hard, I surprised myself. I shoved him into his box, and got the other cat and Sarah as well. I stood there on the porch with her to make sure she got into the cab to go to the vet's. The Terminix man did his work, which took all of ten minutes.

Went back to Liz's, slept, and came back. And in the time between my ER adventure and the flea bombing adventure, Shelby has gotten diarrhea for the second time in a month, and I've caught a cold. I will spend Thanksgiving shoving pills down Shelby's throat and and blowing my nose.

I am thankful for tea, and tissues, and enough hot water for several baths, and for my many Enya CDs.

The Subplot

This will be the last installment of The Adventures of the Adverse Reaction. I'm tired of talking about it. I must finish with the subplot, because it goes with the movie this little episode seems to be in my head. It's like Keystone Cops.

Right in the middle of all of this, my neighbor Sarah was having her condo bombed for fleas. All of us neighbors have agreed on a time days before; Friday, between 9 and 11 am. Who knew that the Friday would be the day after I spent a few hours in the ER? Everyone had to be out of the house for four hours while the bombing did its work. We had already worked out a plan: my across the hall neighbors George and Christine would put their two cats and my cat Shelby in their VW van in the driveway, and pray that they wouldn't freeze to death.

The man from Terminix showed up at 9 on the dot, and we all set about to put the cats in the van; Sarah would bring her two cats to the vet's. Got Kipper in the van, but where was Phoebe? Couldn't find Phoebe. Finally, I opened a closet door, and there she was. "Got Phoebe!" Put Phoebe in the van. Put Shelby in the van. Whew.

I went upstairs to Sarah's. She said to me that she didn't think that her cats had fleas anymore, because she didn't see any flea dust on Benjamin. If there was no evidence of fleas, there was no reason to have the place bombed. What did I think? No bombing? I could sleep in my own bed? Great. Call off Mr. Terminix.

I went downstairs and told George and Christine, who were happy as well. Went back upstairs and just for kicks, decided to check Benjamin one last time, to be sure. I combed through the fur on his neck, which was very dense. After about three seconds, I found it. A bunch of flea dust. Evidence. Mr. Terminix was on again. Go downstairs to tell George and Christine. Get my stuff.

In the days we were making this plan, I figured I'd be at work, and just return home like any other day and be done with it. But now I was doped up on Prednisone and Benadryl and I had to find somewhere to be, because my boss had given me the day off to rest after my "adventure".

I immediately thought of my friends Liz and Chris. They have a room off of their basement that I used once when my floors were being redone. I had an image of this room as I thought about where to rest for four hours: the lush burgundy carpet, the double bed with flannel sheets, the cozy feeling...

I called Liz and she said to come on over, she'd be in and out. I went over. And got a phone call. From Sarah. Okay, next one is last installment. I swear.

Bedside Manner 101

Young Nurse was nice at first, chatty, and she did what everyone should do in the ER--tell you what she's doing. She said she was going to give me an IV, and right before she put it in, she said, "Big pinch." I was prepared, and it wasn't bad. I did a little name dropping; one of my good friends is a doctor at that hospital, and I wanted her to know who she was associated with.

Young Doctor, however...he spoke to me in a condescending tone, and didn't seem to realize that I was a person, not a textbook. He said to me, "Have you ever had this before?" but he didn't really look at me, and he sort of sounded like a robot. His tag said STUDENT, so I asked him what year he was. He was fourth year, going to graduate in May. I congratulated him, and changed his name from Young Doctor to Junior.

Senior Doctor came in, and that's when I really let loose. Apparently, when I'm in shock, I'm like myself, times ten. Watch out. I started shouting out one liners. Among them:

SD: So, what happened?

Me: My palms started getting itchy. I didn't know if I was getting money or having an allergic reaction!

and later...

Me: Doctor, I got stars all over my arm, what's happening???

SD, giving me steroids intravenously: Do you use steroids?

Me: No, I work out naturally!

As the medicine started pumping through my veins, the adrenaline started wearing off and I began trembling uncontrollably. It was really weird; I couldn't stop. I asked Junior why I couldn't stop shaking, and he monotoned, "I think it's just nerves. You'll be okay."

Me: So you're telling me to fucking relax?

That got a big laugh out of Young Nurse. Later, they were both in the hallway. You could hear everything anyone was talking about. Young Nurse said to Junior, "How is she?" and he said something I couldn't hear, and YN laughed. Next time she came in, she said, "How are ya, Trouble? Just kidding." Trouble. I'll give her trouble, all right.

Thank goodness there was a shift change, and an experienced RN took over. She was great. Kept asking me if I was okay, was very sweet, and talked to me like I was a person. I slept for a little while, and after four hours, I was ready to be discharged. Upon leaving, I had to throw out one last one liner:

Me to RN: Hey, did you know the brand name of those latex gloves is "Esteem"? Do you feel better about yourself when you wear them?

Next day, my doctor friend told me I was a hit in the ER. I'm glad, but I hope to never repeat the experience again. I'm going to have a nice long chat with my allergist next week. Next up: The subplot...

Call, and They Will Come

When you call 911 in my town, they drop their donuts and playing cards and send the police, the fire department, and an ambulance. I'm not kidding, and that's the order in which they came. Protocol, I found out. About nine men in various uniforms showed up and started filing in my studio apartment. I talked to them all, telling them all I wanted to know was should I take a Benadryl or use my Epi pen. I wanted to take off my shirt to show them my rash, but I hesitated. Who were the EMTs in the group?

One guy started taking my information, and I flashed him my belly so he could see what he was dealing with. He put up his hand and looked away, "Okay, you don't need to do that", he said. What the hell was he there for? Uptight New Englander!

I finally figured out that there were two EMTs, and one of them told the rest of the boys they could leave. There was a younger one and an older one, and the older one said he thought I should go to the hospital, because even as he was standing there, my ear was getting pinker and pinker, and he didn't want me to get worse and stop breathing. That's all it took; I said okay, and grabbed my coat.

In the hallway, I asked if I could curse. Older said sure, and I belted out, "That fucking nurse!", referring to the woman who had given me the injections. We got into the ambulance and went quietly, with no siren. Younger drove. I started cursing again, and apologized. They said it was fine, they heard it all the time. I made small talk with Older, and called a friend to say, "You'll never guess what I'm doing right now..." I realize now that I was in shock. We got to the ER of the hospital of my choice, and as I got out, I said, "This is the most fun I've had in weeks!" Older said, "You gotta get out more!"

They put me in a wheelchair, another protocol. Got my info, and Younger did something very strange. He took a tool that had a round pivoting ball on it, and rubbed it on my face, from my eye to my cheek. I asked him what that was for, and he said, "Temperature." Indeed, on the machine next to me, it registered 99. I wasn't with it enough to tell him that he should really tell people what he was doing before he massaged someone's face with a pastry implement. I just kept looking at my hands and my arms, which were very pink. I kept saying, "This is fascinating!" Shock.

They took me to a bed, and I met Young Nurse and Young Doctor. And I could teach them a thing or two about something called Bedside Manner 101.

React Much?

Last night I took a ride in an ambulance and went to the emergency room. It was very exciting.
What happened? Allergic reaction to my monthly allergy injections.

I got my injections around 3:45, with a nurse I had only seen twice. I told her that the previous month, I had had a bad reaction to my shots, and showed her a picture of my arm all swelled up with a 3" circle of red. She made a big deal of cutting down my dose. You're supposed to stay in the office for a half hour afterwards in case you have a reaction. She gave me ice to put on my arms while I was waiting. At 4:15, she noted my arm was pink and had a little spot, but nothing to worry about. She noted it in my chart. She told me to take some Benadryl when I got home.

I stopped at the store on my way home. Walking towards home, I felt like my palms were itchy. Wasn't that a sign of an adverse reaction? I shrugged it off, thinking I was being paranoid.

When I got home at 5:00, I took off my gloves and saw that my palms were pink. Was I imagining it? I went across the hall to my neighbor's so she could see if I was red anywhere else. By that time, my ears were starting to feel funny. I went to see her, and she didn't even look under my shirt and said, "Alex, what's happening??" Oh god, I got a little freaked out then. Went back to my house and lifted up my shirt. I was red like a lobster.

I called the doctor's office, which was closed. I had no choice but to call 911; all I wanted to know was whether I should take a Benadryl or use my Epi pen. I was breathing, so I didn't think I should use the Epi pen. The woman on the line told me she would send an ambulance over to check me out, and that they could tell me better.

Next up: call, and they will come. And bring half the town.

Yes, I Bought It

Sort of. I had a card worth $15 from points at Best Buy, so it was really free. I am disappointed, as I always am when I get a CD from an American Idol alum (with the exception of the Dreamgirls soundtrack, featuring Jennifer Hudson). David's CD is sickly sweet, and doesn't show off his true talent. I got two of his live songs off of iTunes, both covers, and he rocked it then. Did you hear his version of Imagine? Then you know what I mean.

To hear this 17 year old boy singing about heartache and desperation is just a little too...not believeable. The beats are too poppy for me. Who writes these things? Some old lonely man who pours out his heart because he can't get the girl, and has to rely on a teenager to whine his heartache.

At least I keep my heartache to myself.

Funky Fresh

Rose, Kate, and Zoey were in a structure at school we call the "doghouse".

Zoey: Alex, can you write a sign that says, "No boys allowed"?

Alex: I don't want to write that. What if the boys wrote a sign that said "No girls allowed". How would you feel?

Kate: Actually, we don't want to play with boys, so we'd feel happy.*

Later on in the day, I had a group of kids playing a version of bowling. Simon had brought in these soft bowling pins and a ball. I had all the kids stand in a line, one behind the other, and take turns. I got into a character, and after a kid would bowl, I'd say in this vague Italian-sounding accent, "Okay, back-ada line, get in the back-ada liiiiinnne..."

After a few minutes of this, Calder looked at me with a straight face and said, "Alex, you're a freak."

*Btw, today the boys did indeed try to ban girls from the dress up area, and Kate was not happy. She eventually got in, with a big smile on her face.

Post # 500! Peek-a-Boo at the Nail Salon

For my birthday last April I got a gift certificate for a manicure and pedicure at a nail salon that I had never been to, and it's now my regular place, though not for the reason I'm about to describe.

If you want a free peep show, you'll go to this nail salon. There's a woman who works there who leaves little to the imagination when choosing her salon attire. The day that I got my free pedicure, she was wearing a skirt that was so short you could see her underwear, a cute little green lace thing. She dresses like she's on her way somewhere fancy...depending on what your idea of fancy is. She wears high heels, short skirts, and midriff shirts.

The other day when I went to get a manicure, it was chilly, so I was curious to see what she'd be wearing. She did not disappoint. She had on sweat pants--but not your mother's sweat pants, oh no. These were pink low rise sweats, and her purple thong, complete with a tiny bow in the middle, showed at the top of her waistband.

I wondered what the boss was thinking when I saw him catch a glimpse of her bow, but then I noticed what he was wearing. He had on a polo shirt with martini glasses embroidered all over it, and he had a gold ring the size of a small acorn. Just another day at the office, I guess.

Time for Sing-a-Long!

I made up a new song during singing time at school yesterday. Sung to the tune of "BINGO":

There was a man in the white house
Obama was his name-o
O-B-A-M-A, O-B-A-M-A, O-B-A-M-A,
Obama was his name-o!

I was spouting Obama all week long. I don't want anyone to forget how important this moment in history is. He is not just another president. A friend of mine described it as Part II of the Civil Rights Movement. I agree.

Yes, We Can!

Last night history was made. I am so happy to witness this time in history, and indeed have hope for our future. I've thought so much of my dear mother, god rest her soul, who would be such an Obama supporter. I wish she were alive to witness this. I can only imagine she's looking down and doing her own happy dance.

Today at school I left a piece of paper on the art table that said, "Today's Practice Letters:
O B A M A." At Meeting time, I sounded like a preacher, yelling out that a new day has come, and yes we can, and change has come to America! All the kids knew how to say Barack Obama, and they knew he was the new president.

When my boss, Rosie, was singing "The Wheels on the Bus" with the kids and she got to the part where they sing, "The driver on the bus says, 'Move on back...' I interrupted the song to belt out, "Not on this day, no one is sitting on the back of the bus anymore, no SIR!"

I heard one funny story regarding Obama. One mom told me that awhile ago, she and her husband were watching TV, listening to Obama speak. Their son Ben, age 3, was sitting on the floor, playing. Obama said something about "don't let your kids watch too much TV", and Ben, a TV lover, whipped his head around and started watching. Later, he proclaimed his support for McCain. Today at school, however, he said he liked Obama.

Me too. And I also love TV. I'll support you, Ben.

Simple Pleasures

I was at someone's house teaching English a few weeks ago, and they offered me a snack. They always have the coolest snacks at this house; this particular snack was a cake made with sweet potatoes. It had a simple message on the side:

"We love to see you smile with your people. So just taste this cake."

I believe the snack was from a Korean company. We should have nice sentiments like that on packaging in America. If we did, more people would smile with their people, after just tasting the cake. It made me smile.

One Year Workout!

It's been one whole year since I started working out, woo hoo! I've slowed it way down since school started, but I'm still going consistently, once a week or more. I'm happy that I've found my niche at the gym, with Steve, and by myself. I've come a long way, baby. Never felt better in my life.

Post Halloween Post

It's the night after...last night we got a bunch of teenagers. I kept making sarcastic comments to them; I couldn't help it. My neighbor George told me that I would be responsible for wiping egg of the house because of my big mouth.

I'd say things like, "Wow, just what I like to see...teenagers on Halloween!" and, "You can only get candy if you're over the age of fourteen!"

I loved one sarcastic kid. He didn't have a costume on, and I asked him what he was. He replied, "A teenager. I think I nailed it." He got extra candy for being a fellow smart ass.

A bunch of kids from my school came too, and that's always fun. We got rid of almost all the candy (and little pots of Play Doh, which the older kids especially liked), and there was no egg on the house in the morning. Let's see how many of them come back next year...