I've been MIA in the blogosphere.
Here's a nice, long post to catch you up.
A girl can get a bit unnerved when seeing her mother hooked up to oxygen tubes and IV drips.
I prepared myself the whole way to the hospital. This is a simple procedure. She's only staying there one night. The incision will heal in no time. Unfortunately every tune on the radio was full of Emo melodrama (that speaks volumes about the kind of music I listen to, doesn't it?) Even my Girl Power Sheryl Crow rock got me a bit misty as I drove over to Good Sam.
My mother was undergoing a regularly scheduled surgical procedure. Nothing glamorous here - just a thyroid removal after some tests came back inconclusive. A while back my mother was diagnosed with Graves' Disease. Her doctor did some tests to see if any cancer was present and they didn't have a definitive answer. Surgery was the best option, so Mom went under the knife yesterday.
Doctors were able to save three of the parathyroid glands, so that will help my mom in the future as she tries to regulate her hormone levels. The doc wants to do a biopsy of parts of the thyroid to get a final answer on the cancer situation - and the good news is he says there's an 80 percent chance everything is healthy.
So right now we're really positive and looking forward to my mother's long, healthy life.
Here's a nice, silly thing we were joking about in the hospital room yesterday:
My dad had a dream involving his father the night before Mom's surgery. Papa had one of the most generous hearts I've ever been blessed to know. He'd give you the shirt on his back or the last five bucks in his wallet to help you out. Well, yesterday was not only Surgery Day - it would have been my Papa's 90th birthday. In the dream, my papa told Dad he wanted to give my mom his birthday gift - the birthday gift was that my mom would get to live to 90 instead.
I teased my mom that I didn't know if I could deal with her for another 32 years. Obviously it was a joke. Tears well up in my eyelids at the thought of a world without my mother.
There's something wrong when a taken man is overly generous with compliments for a single woman.
That's the consensus among the voices in my head after an outing to two parties this weekend.
The events were lovely and I had a great time getting to meet a bunch of new people and seeing some stunning homes. Unfortunately I was introduced to the reality that married men like to flirt and perhaps even pursue single girls.
The first scenario wasn't as startling as the first. I went to a progressive dinner with Bluegrass Brit. At the third house - a practically married man (whom I had never met before) came up to me and whispered, "You look really beautiful tonight."
That's all I could say, right? Considering this man lives with a woman whom he's been dating for a very, very long time. And what's with a taken stranger (and host of the party) complimenting a single girl? It would be one thing if GOP Big Wig's husband or Big Blue Blood's serious boyfriend paid me a compliment about my appearance - these men are friends and in no way would their kind words be interpreted as a come on.
But an unfamiliar man in a serious relationship - the whole thing is hooey in my book.
Party #2 - wouldn't you know it - the same damn thing happened.
We were walking up this steep staircase to the top of a hill in Covington. The home clung to the hill and had a spectacular view of the Cincinnati skyline. We were approaching this amazing front deck when a man dressed as Spicoli (oh, I forgot to tell you this party was an 80s Prom theme party, didn't I?) brushed by me and said, "Gosh, you're cute."
We progressed up the stairs and this same, bleach blond wigged man said to his friend, "Really. That girl couldn't be cuter."
What a way to make a chick feel good. Compliments from two men in one night. Immediately, I knew this night was going to make the blog. Unfortunately I had no idea how rapidly the story would change.
Pleasantries exchanged, drinks poured and I felt quite welcome by the people dressed in ruffled taffeta and bolero jackets.
Spicoli came back and he and I took to a bench along the deck's edge. A third time he said, "Really. You couldn't be any cuter."
I was beginning to wonder whether this guy was a wind-up doll who only had one line.
Spicoli and I chatted quite well. I asked to see what was under the wig and remarked that I thought he looked cuter without the Malibu Barbie hairstyle. We talked about our respective origins (his Kentucky-born-and-raised to my checkered rearing east of the Mississippi) and where I went to college. When he remarked that I was a Wildcat, I saucily replied that I was - in more than one respect.
That's when the angry lady came up to us.
She stomped over in a huffy in her red, ruffled prom dress. She tersely asked "Where are the keys?" and he casually responded about their whereabouts being near some guitar. The angry lady seemed like some drunk and unhappy friend, considering that's how this flirty man responded to her inquiry.
Spicoli kept chatting until he said he had to check on something - but that he'd be back in a moment.
He never came back.
Instead, he stared at me from a distant spot on the wrap-around deck.
I was totally bewildered. I really thought things were going well (what with all my cuteness, and all) and had no idea what would motivate his instant distance.
That's when I asked Bluegrass Brit about him.
Her reply: "Oh. Didn't he tell you he was married?"
He wasn't wearing a ring. Not once did he drop a "My wife..." From where I sat, he intentionally concealed his less-than-singleness.
Bluegrass Brit later told me she said there was talk these people were swingers - an arrangement of which I'll not get tangled up.
As if it's not bad enough for a single girl out there. Now I gotta worry about the married men and the swingers?
I hereby propose that every woman insists her husband gets a ring tattooed on his finger immediately after vows are exchanged.
That'll take care of that.
I don't know if you ever get a chance to watch Local 12's Good Morning Cincinnati (damn, what a great newscast). If you haven't checked it out this week - give it a look. Mr. Bob Herzog is filling in on the anchor desk this week. Regular anchor John Lomax offers some big shoes to fill, but Herzog is just the right guy to step in for vacation relief.
Herzog is known for his daily dose of humor on The Cooler, and it turns out this guy has a serious side, too. I suppose that can be expected considering Bob has a law degree from Chase.
Who knew Mister Funny Guy was such a smarty pants??
Keep up the good work, Bob.
Your fans are watching.