Woke Up This Morning Feeling Fine

Question Everything

On Friday, after posting to my blog in the early morning my email was flooded with this email saying the presidential election was going to be held over two days. Uh huh. Ranter sense went up (it's kinda like spidey sense but much more cynical), all republicans are supposed to vote on Tuesday the 8th, and Democrats vote on the 9th. Independent, and other miscellaneous people, under this plan are shit out of luck. Ya. I made use of the delete key and moved on to more important stuff.

Then later the same day I got another email saying effectively the opposite of what the other emails had said, I sighed thinking how many stupid people will actually fall for this? The fact that people are forwarding this to everyone they know is bad enough. The fact that it's gone so far that SNOPES is involved speaks volumes. I didn't need to go to Snopes to find this information, it found me right there in my weekly Snopes update email, which I normally derisively scan and delete.

It also needs to be said that I'm tired already of sitting on this hard, 100 year old kitchen chair, instead of the comfort of a real computer chair. That said I am making due, though I was cursing it's existence while performing the random google searches life sometimes requires of me.

Shot in the Arm

Yeah, it's flu shot season, and given my bout with pneumonia this past April, I'm not taking any chances, well okay, I did get the flu shot last year too, but three days in the hospital were enough to convince me that it's a chance not worth taking. The problem was what to tell Fredo since he's developed a phobia of shots, breaks down at the thought of them. A few weeks back at school, I guess someone mentioned shots, or getting a shot and he freaked out, wouldn't calm down. He was afraid he was getting a shot, like that day or something. One of his teachers called and I assured her no shots forthcoming. It wasn't exactly a lie, it was an omission that I didn't think would come back to bite me later during one of his progress meetings. The teacher brought it up using it as example of when to call me, she said Fredo was afraid of getting a shot, 'so I called mom who said there were NO SHOTS on the horizon'. Oh Crap! Ya, I was screwed and knew it. If I made him get the shot now I'd be a liar, but if I didn't he'd be at risk for the flu.

I held my breath and waited, debating do I tell him before or after Friday cookies? I decided to wait a little longer after cookies and milk, better to tell him on Friday night rather than have him freak out in line on Saturday. I held my breath and dove into the shallow end of pool, head first. Of course there were tears, whining, gnashing of teeth. I explained some shots you have to get because the illness is worse than the shot...but then my head raced what if he gets the flu anyway?????

Let's face it, flu shots don't always work but given my older son's problems with asthma, it's just not really something I've wanted to take a chance with. Mr. Ranter has always balked about getting his flu shot until he got the flu two years in a row, making him a believer. He still balks about it, yes there are other things I'd rather do on a Saturday morning too but...he complies.

So, I told Fredo, and while watching him freak, I did the bad mommy thing and bribed him, I asked him if after maybe he'd want to get burgers, and it didn't work. I sighed and said, well what if you go to Grandma's afterward? He stopped crying, almost immediately, sniffed a few more times and promised to be brave when he got his shot.

Score one for Mom, then I picked up the phone and told my mother in law who laughed and felt proud that her and father-in-law have that kind of effect on little Fredo. Later, the fear started creeping up in me though, what if he changes his mind and decides he doesn't care about Grandma's house?

Undaunted I took my in laws, Pissboy, husband, to the flu shot clinic, and we waited in line. His fidgeting increasing with each step closer. At last we got the "form area" and I filed out the forms for Fredo and myself not at all certain what if anything he'd say. They asked for our medical cards together as a family, something they didn't do in the past, which extended our time, finally we were through. Then we waited for "family area" to open up. A couple with their little girl was already in there and she was screaming her head off. Now this does NOTHING for Fredo's already stripped nerves. They left, and I pointed out how young the girl was making all the racket. Mr. Ranter had jumped the line opting instead for going into the adult area, where he was back before Fredo even had a chance to sit. They asked him if he wanted to sit on my lap but he said nothing except, "no no no no no" and was in the middle of mid "NOOOOO" when the lady giving the shot said, you're done. Mr Ranter jumped in and said, "dude, you're done." Fredo caught again in mid "nnnnnn" stopped short and said, "I am?" The lady then slapped a band aid on his arm, handed him a sticker and told him to step aside. Piss boy got his shot, then myself. Grandma and Grandma were just coming out of the adult section when we were finished.

I'm not sure what if anything Fredo really thought about the whole thing, but we kept up our end of the bargain and dropped him off at grandma and grandpa's house where the promise of French toast wirled through is head. He did before exiting the van, give me a thumbs up signal as I kissed his cheek reminding him of his bravery.

I'm Easy Like Sunday Morning

Most of day Sunday was spent in recovery for Mr Ranter, thoroughly hung-over and complicated with aching muscles, spent most of the day napping. I spent the day doing all kinds of very boring wifey type things, like laundry, vacuuming (just to annoy the Mister) and running the dishwasher a couple of times. I did accomplish much of the precleaning stuff; read, tossing out clutter so tomorrow I won't have as much to do. And that's enough for me.

Experimental Sunday

Well, I experimented with dinner last night and it must be said that my family HATES it when I do that because half the time it doesn't work. I made chicken breasts and thighs (boneless skinless), topped with a mango salsa like thing. I cut up the mango, which is nearly impossible to cut up because of that damn membrane inside it. Added a jalapeno, diced, red onion, garlic, some lime juice and Italian Parsley, I think cilantro would be a better choice but Mr. Ranter hates it. Anyway after cooking the chicken, I added some wine to get up those tasty bits off the bottom of the pan and added the mango stuff. Cooked it a little then added the chicken back. I roasted brussels sprouts in the oven and served the whole thing with brown rice.

Mr. Ranter sat nervously down to the table, and surveyed the food, asking if this was indeed a real recipe or if I was just experimented again. I said taste it. He did and liked it. After that I confessed that I just came up with it on my own, though it wasn't very hard so I'm sure someone else has thought of it before. He commented on the food like an Iron Chef America judge, saying he enjoyed the different textures. Piss-boy, his fellow foodie agreed that dinner was good. Upon total reflection, he said he would have liked smaller mango pieces...Okay, I can do that next time.

I smiled as they cleaned their plates, and quickly left for the Haunted House they were going to. Naturally their dishes remained on the table. Oh well somethings I just can't change. I through Fredo into the shower and we settled down for a quiet Sunday evening reading books. It was a good day. A very good day.


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