Welcome to Snarkfest

Welcome to my snarky corner of the web. Join me as I discuss everything from wine to chocolate. There may be a few other topics mixed in there too. I talk a bunch about my amazing offspring, 20 and 18. I sometimes go on and on about my secret crush on the amazing Mike Rowe. I talk about things that irritate me or things that make me happy. Sometimes I just talk to hear myself talk. Feedback is always appreciated but please make sure it's respectable. No nudity or profanity. I'm the only one allowed to be profane. But any and all snark is welcome and appreciated!

Tuesday, March 20, 2018

How Many More?



My daughter walked out of school last Thursday with a good many of her classmates. They walked out to honor the 17 students and educators who died at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland Florida. I'm sure many students at Great Mills High School in St. Mary's County, Maryland also walked out to honor those fallen folks. And now, less than a week after that peaceful walkout, there is another school shooting. This one at that very school.

How many more?

This Saturday we will march in Washington DC along with hundreds of thousands of others who are sick to death of school shootings and gun violence.

As a parent, I absolutely cannot begin to imagine what those parents are feeling at this moment. I have a knot in my stomach just trying to imagine what it would be like to hear that there was a shooting at my kid's school. The uncertainty until a parent gets proof of life from their child, that time must be extreme agony.

How many thoughts and prayers does this country have left?

18 and I were interviewed last night for a podcast  by my friend Mike who runs Papa Does Preach for his new podcast, DadAF. He wanted to talk to her about her experiences with the walk out last week and how it affected her. She spoke about how she stood in solidarity with those school shooting victims and how we need to bring about change. And now this.

How many more??

I am sickened.

I hate to even think this, but will it take a gunman going into the school of a congressman's or a senator's child or even the school where the president's son goes before something is done??? You'd think after last summer's shooting at the congressional softball game that action would be taken, but no. More children have to die because no one will do anything to prevent guns from getting into the hands of children or angry people with an ax to grind. WHAT. MORE. WILL. IT. TAKE??

ENOUGH!

Friday, March 16, 2018

Colonoscopy. A story of hope, and poop. Mostly poop.



The day before:

8:00 a.m. The liquid diet day begins. I suck on a delicious orange popsicle while feeding the dogs, and I'm actually a little jealous that they are eating solid food. Not saying I want to eat dog food, just saying the orange popsicle left a little to be desired.

11:00 a.m. The caffeine-deprived headache has taken hold and I'm squinting at everything. You'd think I was sitting on the sun with how much I'm squinting. I miss coffee. Also, I'm cold.

12:00 p.m. I have just taken the recommended 4 laxative pills. My guess is, the fun should begin any minute now. I have knocked back 2 cups of beef broth that my boss made for me because she loves me. It was like manna from the gods. I chased that with a cup of pineapple jello. I'm not ready to gnaw on anyone's arm just yet. But it's early.

3:00 p.m. The stomach gods have awakened from their slumber. No movement yet but they must be in a meeting. Getting loud in there.

4:00 p.m. Just made my Miralax/Gatorade cocktail and I get to drink 8 ounces of this delicacy every 15 minutes for the next 2 hours. Jealous yet?

5:15 p.m. Nothing happening so far. I'm starting to wonder if I should be worried.

5:50 p.m. Houston, we have movement........

6:48 p.m. Sweet mother of Abraham Lincoln.

7:04 p.m. I'm reminded of a story my old college roommate told me. She went to high school with a girl who tried to lose weight by eating Ex-Lax (old chocolate laxatives for you kids). One day she was in the locker room after gym class and she sneezed and shit herself.  I laughed when she told me that.

I'm not laughing now.

7:12 p.m.  poop
8:29 p.m.  poop
9:04 p.m.  more poop....... lather, rinse, repeat. Also, I'm starving.

10:45 p.m. I try to go to sleep and manage to successfully not shit my pajamas.

C-Day:

1:30 a.m. Back on the toilet

1:35 a.m. Back to sleep, still no pants pooping

5:30 a.m. My alarm goes off and it's time to drink my Magnesium Citrate which, at 5:30 in the morning, tastes twice as bad as it would have if I was drinking it at noon.

6:45 a.m. My alarm goes off again to make sure 18 gets off to school

6:46 a.m. poop

6:50 a.m. Back to sleep for 45 minutes

7:35 a.m. poop.

7:40 a.m. Have the pleasure of watching my husband drink coffee. Drool a lot. Then poop.

7:45 a.m. poop. Shower. poop.

8:15 a.m. On the road to Winchester for the big event! I manage to make the entire trip without pooping myself. BONUS!

9:30 a.m. I am called back, registered, checked in, given my beautiful designer hospital gown, got my IV, signed my life away and was called a 'young healthy gal' by the anesthesiologist who couldn't have been more than 33. Apparently 50 is the new 70. Who knew?

10:13 a.m. I am wheeled back to the scope room and get to meet the doctor who is also from Philly. We discuss the Eagles (who I haven't really followed since they signed convicted dog-killer and general jackass Michael Vick). We also discuss the 1980 Phillies team. I roll over onto my left side, and watch the young anesthesiologist shoot me full of the same drugs that Michael Jackson was addicted to. (I was told that fact by no less than 4 staff members. Had I known this, I would've worn my one silver glove). I remember nothing after watching the drugs go in.

11:05 a.m. I am gently roused from my nap by the lovely nurse who put in my IV. She and my husband are both laughing because apparently when I was first coming out of the anesthesia, I dropped the F bomb. Hubby said I said something like "Fucking Phillies" which makes no sense because I LOVE the Phillies. I blame the drugs and the young anesthesiologist. Maybe I MEANT to say "Phucking Phillies" which is much nicer.

11:40 a.m. Back in the car for the drive home. I want to eat ALL the foods. All of them.

Present time:  My butt hurts. A lot. But my colon is as clean as a whistle. I don't have to do this again for another 10 years.

On a serious note....

I have a friend who passed away 11 years ago from cancer. She battled colon cancer twice in her 30's and the third time she just couldn't beat it. If you have a history of colon cancer in your family, DO NOT WAIT. Go get your colonoscopy. Yes it's a pain in the ass (LITERALLY) but it's so worth it to get yourself checked and make sure you're clean.

One last thing. If this post made you laugh you should definitely check out my friend Foxy Wine Pocket's post about her own colonoscopy.


Friday, March 9, 2018

Almost Empty Nest.........

Hey Snarklings. Experts say Friday is the worst day to post a new blog. I don't know why, that's just what "they" say. Whoever "they" are, they can kiss my butt. It's so rare that I get an original idea for a blog post, that when I get one, I have to run with it, regardless of what day of the week it is, regardless of what "they" say.



As I write this post, we are a mere 2 months from my youngest daughter's high school graduation. Those of you who have been with me for a long time may remember the last time I went through a high school graduation. You may also recall that sales of Kleenex tissues spiked dramatically during that time period. You see, I was coming off of an addiction to Effexor, a really strong anti-depressant that I didn't actually realize I was addicted to until I tried to wean myself off.

Holy shit, you guys.

I cried for weeks over every. single. thing. It was embarrassing. Even my closest friends questioned the decision to quit the anti-depressant so close to this monumental life-changing experience. Probably not my best call.

I was interviewed by Prevention magazine in 2016 about my experiences stepping down and eventually quitting Effexor, and that interview has been making the rounds again lately. I received a Facebook message out of the blue from someone, a total stranger, who read that interview and asked me for some advice on getting off the anti-depressant. "Will I ever feel better?" she asked. And I'm happy to say YES. YES you WILL feel better. It won't happen overnight. But it WILL happen.

Which brings me to today. We are nearing the finishing line, folks. 18 is graduating! 18 got the gown for her senior prom. 18 has been accepted to college and will be in the band once again with her big sister. And guess what! I haven't cried yet. Well, that's not necessarily true. I have teared up thinking about the 'lasts'. I chaperoned the 'last' Christmas parade in which the high school band marched. I chaperoned the 'final' band competition at the state capital and yes, I was weepy. My eyes filled up. However, it's not the 'body racked with heavy, wet, snotty sobbing' kind of crying that I went through 3 years ago. When 20 graduated high school in 2015, I was an emotional train wreck, I think we can all agree on that. But I'm not sure how much of that was truly me being sad that my first-born baby girl was growing up and leaving, or how much of it had to do with the side effects of the drug leaving my body.

It's really hard for me to say which it was, but back then I was overwhelmed with all the feelings. I was happy for my graduate, excited for her new journey, sad for me that she was leaving me, sad for her sister who was losing her best friend to a campus of 30,000. I was grieving a loss. All of those feelings mixed with the side effects of detoxing truly made me feeling like some sort of psycho.

But my head is clear now. My baby is graduating and I'm not going to lie: I'm sad. I'm sad because my nest will soon be empty, I won't be chaperoning anymore band trips, nor will I be spending anymore nights in the cabin at band camp (okay maybe I'm NOT really all that sad about that). But I'm emotionally ready to handle it. I feel so much stronger now. These experiences have made me stronger, and while they sucked while I was dealing with them, I feel like I have come out on the other side better for having gone through it.

I will add one thing: you may want to disregard that last paragraph on the day that I drop 18 off at college in August. Make no mistake. I will be a sobbing, snotty mess that day. My nest will be empty then, and I think I'm allowed to be emotional then. But I now know that I can and will get through it.