Tuesday, December 2, 2008

What Means This?

You know, I don't really buy into the whole Supreme Being sending Cosmic Signals bullshit. You know the drill by now: "If you've had 10 miscarriages, 14 failed IVF's, lost a tube, and your uterus is shaped like a muffler, maybe God doesn't want you to have babies." That kinda stuff.


I'm getting the distinct impression that I'm missing some fairly major air-raid sirens, signal fires, red flashing lights, and concussion bombs.

First there was the whole shredded plantar fascia crap last fall that kept me from running for 6-7 months, and damn near face-planted me into surgery. I shrugged off that sign, worked my ass off, and yesterday went for a lovely 3.5 mile spin around the 'hood.

Came home, showered, gulped down lunch, and was running out the door to pick up Bella. Mr. ABF decided to come with as we were all headed to the library immediately following, and on the way out the door, he was telling me a delicious story about some friends of ours and how they swore in front of their 1.5 year old in the car. I turned around to look at Mr. ABF for the punch line, smile on my face already, stepped out the front door . . .

And turned my left ankle. Hard. Leaving my fucking house, I tell you.

It's not so bad that I can't hobble around on it, so I'm quietly thanking a year of rehab that focussed largely on strengthening my ankle and the muscle groups around it. But GODDAMMIT. There's a nice raquetball sized (and blue-colored) lump, and it hurts.

Which is leading me to question if there is in fact some all-mighty Diety who does not want me to run. In fact, this Diety does not want me to leave my house. I am apparently defying my destiny to sit on the couch for an eternity and bloat and become some high blood-pressure, obesity statistic. I don't know why I fight this god-given path of bon bons and daytime television and lumpy thighs and clogged arteries, but I do. And perhaps I should just succumb, and be with the lazy and out of shape.

Or maybe it's something else entirely:

On top of my now swollen ankle, Mr. ABF appears to have contracted pink eye. Which I find somewhat amusing seeing as usually these things spring from the child in the house, who remains blissfully clear-eyed (while she hacks up a lung), but I keep my chuckles to myself knowing full-well that in a mere 24 hours we will all be red, swollen, peering through gunky lids reaching for our appointed handtowels.

To make matters more interesting, my highly independent child who normally runs into school with nary a backward glance decided this morning she didn't want to go. Cue heartwrenching scene with her wrapped around my leg, screaming "Don't leave me!" while her teachers gave me the "What the fuck?" look. What the fuck indeed. I'm giving them 5 more minutes and then I fully expect that my now healthy child (who slept through the night with no coughing! Finally!) will have convinced someone that "she doesn't feel well" and they'll call and I'll go pick her up.

Tomorrow morning at the crack of dawn, she has an IQ Test assessment meeting with a child psychologist which is REQUIRED for Kindergarten applications. I'm telling her a nice woman named J (who just happens to live close to an hour away during rush hour) wants to meet and play with her tomorrow morning. This should go over well.

Saturday a.m. she has the first of four interviews playdates, probably the most significant component in applying for Kindergarten. That is, if she doesn't have pink eye, and decides it's ok to unwind herself from my pants leg. This after filling the admissions people with an infinite well of stories on how independent and social our child is. Oh yes.

This week is not shaping up well at all, and I'm missing some signs here. I'm looking, and what I'm seeing is making me want to curl up in a ball and cry, and possibly throw myself into traffic. I'm looking up the significances in the Almighty Handbook, and the Almighty appears to be giving me -- and my family -- the middle finger. Well, fuck you, too.

Interpretations much appreciated.


Julia said...

Tea. Brew black tea, cool it, wet a cotton ball in it, place on the offending eye, having first dribbled a drop or to therein. Do the same with the other eye and an independent cotton ball. Do the same for the currently clear eyed in the household (preferably starting with separate containers of tea), and more likely than not Bella will make her group torture on Saturday, and even the damn assessment tomorrow. And you will have your sight enough to drive her both places. As a bonus, I always enjoy the 15 minutes of peace that is lying on the couch with tea on my eyes. I swear you will feel a bit better after.

Signs? What signs? You mean the flashing neon thing I keep walking into face first?

Antigone said...

Has it really taken you this long to realize that G_d has a vendetta against you? I've been on his sh#tlist for a couple years now. Lucky for me I've got this friend Faust who lives down the street. I can introduce you if you'd like.

k@lakly said...

Maybe you are an unwitting participant in Go.ds plan for some doc or docs to have really nice vacations this year???

I hate signs, usually close my eyes, stick my fingers in my ears and stick out my tongue while nah, nah, nah, nah, nah fills the cartoon bubble over my head. And then the train that I thought was a light at the end of the tunnel, runs me over.

Nevermind the tea, get thee to the liquor cabinet, pronto!

janis said...

I think that Deity has the wrong address and the wrong person. Did you check around your 'hood to see if someone shares a similar name? What effing Crap!!
I'm sorry for all this shit, Tash. and I say lotsa garlic to keep the devil away. Urgh! I feel mad for you!!

luna said...

signs are sometimes meant to be ignored. if shit happens with no warning whatsoever, then signs may just be irrelevant distractions to direct our attention elsewhere. just god's way of fucking with you. or whoever, since I'm not the most devout believer. I know, going to hell...

I'm probably talking out my ass. I got nothin. just wanted to curse a lot this morning, and I knew you could handle it. fuckityfuck, I'm sorry about your ankle. that really sucks.

awesome pink-eye remedy by julia. hope it works. and hope bella loosens her grip for the day and blows the crap out of her interview, er playdate.

Aunt Becky said...

Vodka. And Garlic. Perhaps you can make a cocktail.

sweetsalty kate said...

I have only one interpretation. Actually two.

1) UGH.
2) ICK.

Regardless of the totally unfunny tragic comedy of twisting your ankle while leaving the house, I'm excited for you that you went for a run. That's the start of something new, signs schmigns.

debbie said...

Geez, I don't know. I have recurring ankle sprains myself, in fact I apparently have no connected ligaments on the outside of my right ankle. When I roll my ankle it doesn't even turn black and blue anymore. The PT said this is because when the ligaments come undone they don't swell b/c they don't know what just happened. So there's some good news for you, w/ your swelling and discoloration, it looks like you at least have some ligaments left :)

As for the desire to curl up and take a time out. If you decide to do so, I highly recommend the Red Belt, David Mamet's new film on DVD. It's awesome. Plus, the main character whose name I can't pronounce much less spell is quite possibly the most unbelievable hottie on screen right now.

And to the running diety, tell that sucker to eff off. You'll be back running in no time!

Kymberli said...

What were those words you left on my blog earlier today? Fuckity fuck? Those lovely words definitely apply here.

Here's the thing about curling up into a ball and putting yourself in timeout for a while - sometimes it's needed. Healthy, even. Sometimes we just need to slow down. Taking off a few days to be lazy is sometimes just what the doctor (or the dastardly deities) ordered. Here's the plan - go to Baskin-Robbins, get a quart of jamocha almond fudge, and eat a big bowl of it everyday while laying about on the couch/bed/wherever doing NOTHING. Watch mindless TV or read a book. Continue to do nothing more than you have to for as long as it takes to eat the ice cream. When the quart of ice cream is gone, the break is over and it's back to muddling through life and trying to make the best of things. Giving yourself a set time frame to "just be" doesn't set you up for a lifetime of couch potatohood, but it can be just the breather needed. You might not even need to get through the whole quart. (Smooshing some ice cream between two big ass chocolate chip cookies helps, too.) There's my dose of assvice.

Hope Bella's "playdates" go well and she dazzles them with her genius.

CLC said...

Maybe all the shit that has happened in the last 2 days is a sign that tomorrow and Saturday will go swimmingly well. It's not really my nature to sound this positive, but I think I can fake it enough to tell you that I believe this!

Azaera said...

I don't know but if I were you I'd probably be reaching for a nice after dinner drink right about now. And as for assessing kindergarteners what has the world come to?? Shouldn't you be the one interviewing the teachers to find out if they are good enough for your kid? Maybe that's just me..

Amy said...

Interpretations do not suit me, I suck at them! Obviously or I would be eating bon bons also!

Sorry for the crap and hopefully the list in which you fall on, you know, the sh** one will change soon to the, "seriously, I've been a good girl list" soon! Thinking of you and hoping play dates and er, assessments go well!

niobe said...

I think I said on my blog recently that the answer to everything is 23.

But, on another point, based on my own personal experience, the kid applying for kindergarten thing is one of the most horrible experiences ever.

One tip: don't be like one of the parents whose kid was applying for a spot at a private kindergarten in our town and show up at the group interview session drunk out of your mind and, when your kid has trouble with the concept of building a four-block tower, start telling the teacher in a rather loud voice exactly what she should do with those building blocks.

And, surprisingly enough, I am not referring to myself.

Michele said...

God, I sure hope there arent signs. Heaven only knows what mine say at this point.

Kathy said...

Oh Tash, that really sucks! Having had knee issues over the past two years that sent me to PT and kept me from running and teaching group fitness for some time, I totally get how frustrating that is.

As for signs... I like to think I believe in them in a good way, but like you if you... if I look at a lot of things that have happened in my life over the past few years it would be easy to think that God or someone is out to get me or at least not throwing a lot of good karma and juju my way. I really struggle at times with destiny vs. free will when life seems to be raining crap.

On the flipside, if you/we really look at our lives I am sure there are plenty of things to feel good about. I know I am being the enternal optimist here, which you might not want to hear, but I do believe that gratittude for the things that are going right/well in our life can help when a lot of other things aren't seeming to go our way. Easier said then done...

Hang in there. I do hope that your recent chain of bad luck events are leading up to a much better and longer chain of good luck events in your life! And I too am proud of you for working so hard to rehabiliate so you could run again! (((HUGS)))

MsPrufrock said...

Oh the irony...here I wrote a comment cursing your ability to just go out and run 3.5 miles after a long period off running (it's the jealousy talking), and my comment just disappeared. Signs! Signs!

Anyway, I hope your ankle sorts itself out quickly. If it does not, I shall come all the way over there and shout at it most vehemently.

Aurelia said...


I am wondering if there is a common thread here. Hormones tend to affect ligaments and tendons and balance and bone density.

And mood and outlook and stuff.

Have you had yours gone over recently? Because I started having problems with stuff and break things whenever my hormones are off.

I know you don't want to check for fertility so just hide your head in the sand on that score and think about your bones and ligaments.

And of course Bella will do fine. Let us know how it goes.

Bon said...

my interpretation is that Depeche Mode was right and god does have a sick sene of humour...and your house and mine are hs practical jokes this week.

hope you feel, uh, better soon.

charmedgirl said...

wtf is all that kindergarten shit?? jeez, it sounds ridiculous to me. i could be wrong. i don't know...

there's no such thing as signs.