My Pop always said “Any snow that you get after February 15th doesn’t last long.”  I think this year may be testing that wisdom. It is February 23rd 2015 and in New England we have had record breaking snowfalls, and cold temperatures. Weeks of below zero temperatures, have all compounded to leave 7 feet of snow in my yard and 20 feet snow banks.
   All of those things combined have given me a huge case of Cabin Fever, the kind that makes me want to be outside. But going outside makes me COLD..brr. What I really need is sun, warmth, some sand, and the ability to sit on the beach and watch the waves. With my book, an umbrella drink and not a care in the world.
    

Feeling the sun on my shoulders, and yes I know I should have 50 SPF on, but I don’t. I have either 4 or 8, because I want a tan after being cooped up in the snow. Heck this is my Cabin Fever fantasy, there is no sunburn in my fantasy. In my fantasy I can lay in this imaginary beach n there is 0% chance of sunburn and 💯%  chance of beautiful golden even tan.
     As I sit in my sand chair, moving my feet back in forth in the sand, creating little tunnels with my feet, listening to the stupid gulls over my head.  They are the only part of my fantasy that is truly annoying. Little flying rats, ugh nasty birds, but oh well they really are part of the whole “beach experience”, so they can stay.
       Listening to the lifeguards whistle, the giggling of the little kids building sand castles and moats down by the water, and the boat engines out in the ocean. All those things combined blend to make up the background noise that lulls me to sleep.
     I can smell the salt air, suntan lotion, the lunch of the people next to me. They have tuna salad sandwiches and Fritos, along with Coca-Cola, and strawberries. I can feel the way my skin is getting tight, the salt drying on it from the ocean water. It feels funny and good all at the same time. The air is so warm, the slight breeze, just enough to keep things moving but not chilly by any stretch of anyone’s imagination.
     I get up and make my way into the water, in my Cabin Fever Fantasy this is not New England Beach water. I don’t have to slowly acclimate my body to the icy freezing water inch by inch.
     Abruptly my fantasy comes to a screeching halt with the “beep, beep”  sound that the dryer makes. At least the resulting laundry will be warm. All I can say is that Mother Nature is an equal opportunist this year. The South has gotten snow and ice too, we in the Northeast are buried up past our nether regions in the white crap. It is cold out West, and up across the Midwest and Central Plains too. So I am pleading, please, please Mother Nature I need warmth, soon.❗❗❗☺☺🌞🌞🌈🌈🌊

I religiously get a flu shot…I know, I know, you get sick from flu shots, (cough, cough.) I am not entertaining conspiracy theorists tonight. I get a flu shot because I have asthma, serious asthma, like the kind that makes my fingernails and toenails turn blue from lack of oxygen to your extremities.  I don’t need to get the flu anymore than Custer needed more Indians, Carter needed Liver pills or any other idiom you can come up with today. The flu leads yo bronchitis, pneumonia and hospital stays for me, none of which I find particularly appealing.
     I started feeling crappy 3 days ago, a horrendous sinus headache, the kind that makes you want to drill a hole in your head and let the fluid out.  Yesterday the cough arrived along with a slight fever and the exhaustion that I couldn’t shake. This morning I woke up with chills, shakes, a herd of asthma elephants on my chest and a fever if 102.5. After dosing w Nyquil and my regular meds did nothing I finally admitted I needed to go to the Dr.  I called and got an urgent care appointment for this morning and  dragged my sorry butt there. My boys knew I was sick, I broke my own 2 cardinal rules. I left the house without:
  1. Makeup
  2. A bra

     At my Drs office I saw a lovely Physicians Assistant, she diagnosed me with The Flu, the vernacular for Influenza. This diagnosis came via lovely nasal swabs, something that if I never have to have that again..I will be just fine.
     She prescribed me Prednisone Pills to reduce the inflammation in my lungs, and Cough Syrup with Codeine to calm the wracking cough so I could get some rest. I really lobbied for Antibiotics stating that she could reduce the inflammation all she wanted, but there was an infection brewing in my compromised lungs. My lobbying was to no avail, she was not budging.
     I spent the remainder of Saturday and all of Sunday doing what was prescribed, taking my meds, rest, fluids and a whole lotta NOTHING!!!  By Sunday night my Peak Flows kept sliding back down, 400 with a breathing treatment…then within 2 hrs I was dipping back down. By hour 3 I would be struggling to stay at 275 for that last hour until I could have another treatment.
     By 2 am I knew there was an ER visit in my not too distant future. I had promised my dear friend Lora Pearson that I would not try and tough it out and let it get so bad. I knew that my hubby had to work, and with no one to open his shop for him, or plow his lots him taking me was not an option.
     I hated to do it, but I woke up my 18 yr old, he was so great about. What 18 year old wants to get up at 4 am and take their Mom to the ER. But Kyle was the best!!!  He called his gf, yes at 4 am, cuz she made him promise he would. I growled at him, really waking the poor girl at that hour. But promises are promises. ☺
     We braved the snow covered roads, as he drove me to the ER to get my cranky, noisy, crispy sounding lungs checked out. As usual once we started the trek to the hospital and I knew that we were headed for help my lungs freed up, the anxiety cleared and I began to feel a little better. Not a million bucks better, but tolerably..I am not gonna die before I get help better.
     Kyle kept me as calm as one asthmatic patient can be on snow covered roads, with snow still falling, and crazy New England drivers everywhere. All that being said, I was never so happy to see the Cooley Dickenson Hospital Emergency Sign
     As an asthmatic child a trip to the ER meant a shot, or a few of them. There isn’t much I dislike in this world more than needles, I wouldn’t make a good junkie. Things have changed in the world of respiratory medicine since I was diagnosed 46 years ago. Now treatment consists of a nebulizer treatment, usually with Corticosteroids involved.  IV antibiotics for the bacterial infection that has taken up residence in my lungs as well as a chest X-Ray to rule out, or in this case confirm the presence of pneumonia in my lungs.
     All of those were done, nebulizing treatment, with Corticosteroids involved, Chest X-Ray for confirmation and a dose of IV antibiotics before they set me free.  I realized while I was sitting in the exam room waiting, after the X-Ray was taken, but I didn’t have the results yet. The last time I was in the ER for an asthma attack Kyle was with me too. It was just in a completely different way. I was pregnant with him last time. My then PCP would not let me self-treat with my nebulizer when I was pregnant. So as a nervous soon to be mom I listened to him and trudged to the ER.  This time he was the grown up who shuttled me there.
     After all was all was said and done, the final paperwork was handed out. Prescription for antibiotics to take for 10 days, a new inhaler, and a note that says I can go back to work on THURSDAY!!  Specific instructions from the Dr that I was to rest, take my meds, push the fluids and keep using my nebulizer.
     Today is day 2 at home, as my dad would say “I am beginning to feel like a Million Bucks, all green and wrinkled”.  I am sure I will feel even better tomorrow, my body had been trying to tell me something. I was just a little too stubborn to listen, I guess I had to be smacked over the head with it. Call me dense, stubborn, or just plain Irish, but I got the message now, really I do!!!

Now comes the time of year in New England that some of us have reached our tolerance. Our tolerance of snow, each other, of the cold, of being trapped inside constantly (or cabin fever as it is correctly called). The tolerance for cleaning up after Mother Nature’s constant dumpage, whether it be snow, ice, sleet, or any combination of the above. By now only children like snow days, and especially High School Seniors, because at least in my state they don’t have to make the days up. The rest of us parents are done with them.
     The 5:15 am wake-up call to tell me that school is cancelled means I can look out the window, roll over and make the decision whether I want to risk life and limb to get to work. Usually the answer is no. So that call is followed by a text to my poor boss telling him that I am now screwing up his schedule too.
    4 days ago the infamous groundhog known to all as Puxatawny Phil informed us all, much to the chagrin of irritable and cold New Englanders that there would be 6 more weeks of winter. Well we all know by the calendar he is correct. What I would like to know is how he knows that?  There was no sun on Groundhog Day in Puxatawny Pennsylvania, how could the meteorological rodent have seen his shadow?
     In my personal opinion the little guy is in cahoots with Mother Nature this year, trying to extend this winter forever!! I live in an area that is forecasted to get another 2 feet of the white stuff by Tuesday. If I could get my hands on that Groundhog he would be toast.!!!
    

If you were to swipe my iPod, yes I still have one, or peruse my phone music, or my Spotify Playlist the results would be the same. I have eclectic taste in music, or as some as my friends would say, what are you listening to?
     Putting any of my playlists on shuffle is an experience not to be missed, you just never know what what will come out. It could be anything from Def Leppard to Peter, Paul & Mary.
     Along with this eclectic taste in music comes a veritable cornucopia of concerts that I have attended over the years. Some people enjoy spending time in darkened movie theaters, waiting for the house lights to come up.  Some of the best times I can remember have been spent in Civic Centers and Concert Halls in the Northeast.
     Reo Speedwagon, Survivor, Billy Joel-no less than 8 times, Elton John-at least 6 times, Tom Petty, Bob Dylan, Crosby, Stills,Nash & Young, Stevie Nicks, Bruce Springsteen & Rod Stewart.
     Then began my foray into country music, Garth Brooks, John Michael Montgomery, Brooks & Dunn, & Shania Twain.
     But by far the best concert I have been to was the most recent one. My brother, and sister-in-law and I took my Dad to see a band he has loved since I was a youngster. A band that he wore the album out, and I didn’t think that was possible. We went to see Fleetwood Mac at the XL Center in CT. It was an experience I will never forget, and not just the music. The Chain, and Rhiannon not withstanding, the company and the experience was amazing and something that I will always remember. My Dad truly loved the concert, he had never been to one before. He will always remember it, and Scott, Lyndsay and I will always remember it too, we made it a memorable experience for him, or we hope we did. 🎶🎶🎼🎤🎤🎻🎹🎹

     It is that time of year again, no not winter. Although if you live in New England you are up to your nether regions in snow, and it doesn’t look like Mother Nature has any plans to stop in the near future.
     I am talking about taxes.  Unless you live under a rock, or don’t have television I don’t know how you can miss those obnoxious H&R Block commercials. Ugh, they are so annoying to me. The actor in and of himself is enough to make me want to hurl, and then add his message that H&R Block can get you the best refund. Ugh,.ack, ick,.and all the other superlatives I can come up with.
     What the aforementioned pitch man neglects, most likely on purpose to tell the audience is that H&R Block charges an exorbitant amount to do your taxes. Generally twice what a licensed CPA will charge, and the people that you deal with at Block have taken their standard tax prep course. They aren’t CPA’s, or even accountants.
     If you truly love H&R Block then go to Staples and buy the TaxCut Software. It is made by Block, it will walk you through the maze known as the US Tax Code. Now all this is said if you have standard, fairly straightforward taxes. If you have anything remotely confusing or wacky. Get yourself to a CPA.
     But this time of year I get all sorts of happy, excited comments and Facebook Status Updates from my friends. “Got $1,200.00 back from Fed and $700.00 from State” or something like that. I don’t know how many times I have to tell my friends, acquaintances and others this same thing.
     IF YOU HAVE THAT MUCH TAKEN OUT OF YOUR PAYCHECK EACH WEEK, THAT YOU END UP WITH A LARGE REFUND LIKE THAT, YOU REALLY MUST LIKE THE IRS. BECAUSE YOU ARE LOANING THEM YOUR MONEY INTEREST FREE ALL YEAR.
     I don’t know about you guys, but I would rather use my money all year long, and end up with a much smaller refund, than to let the IRS play with my $$$ all year.
     I know there are specialized corporate situations, where huge refunds are needed and even the norm.  But I am not talking about those situations, I am talking about us, those of us normal people who figure things out as we go. Those of us who try and make ends meet
And have too much month at the end of the money. For that reason the IRS doesn’t get to play with mine!!!!💴💴💰💵💸💸

     Is there anything worse than trying to sleep with a snoring partner? I don’t mean someone who snores slightly or gently. I mean a partner that snores like there is a train in your bedroom. On a nightly basis, the awful constant noise eliminating from him. No matter how many times I tell him to roll over, stop snoring. I wake him up, move him, poke
him, nothing works. He has steroid nasal spray that he uses that is supposed to alleviate the noise.
     Sometimes it helps, but not usually. I have tried ear plugs, a white noise machine that has lots of different sounds. He had the unmitigated gall to tell me it kept him awake. He almost lost a crucial body part for that comment.
Some nights when I can’t stand the “train”  anymore I take my blanket n pillows and head to the couch. At least it is quiet out there.
     We have tried Breathe Right Strips, lavender spray, benadryl before bed, chamomile tea and any other wives tale we can find.
     The next step is a sleep study, because yes he does stop breathing when he snores and sleeps. And that not breathing isn’t because I have smothered him with a pillow, although it would stop the noise,.and I won’t lie and tell you I haven’t thought of that solution. Lol. But a sleep study will be much more efficient!!!!

     Today is my birthday, I am 47 years old. This last year has been a struggle, of work and love and family. As this week was winding down I couldn’t help but think about the people that I miss.
     When I was 15/16 years old in the span of 18 months someone, and I say someone because the great God would not have been so unkind as to do this. Took my world, spun it on its head and shook it until all the pieces were jumbled. Like a jigsaw puzzle missing some integral pieces, the special corner or edge ones that without them the puzzle just doesn’t hold together anymore.
     The first spin was my Grampie, my Dad’s Father. I was his angel, and I knew it. He and my Jama lived in town so he was always helping my Dad with something, and I got to tag along. To the hardware store and the lumberyard. Even up on top of the roof when they were shingleing one year. It was then I realized I was afraid of heights. Grampie helped me down.
     Grampie had always had heart problems, and now his heart was really beginning to fail him. He was in the UCONN Medical CTR more than an hr away. But he wouldn’t give up his cigarettes. They were just a part of who he was. I learned to drive at night, no license, no learners permit coming back from the Medical Ctr, driving while dad slept. Those were way different times. Finally not only did his heart fail, all the rest of his organs too. And my special Grampie was gone. I have never seen such a big funeral in my life. For the after party we had a bartender, because you know the Irish love to drink. I couldn’t understand how everyone could drink and laugh when all I could do was cry??

     The second spin was my Nana, the woman that I absolutely adored was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. She was a whirling dervish. A tiny woman, no more than 5 feet tall and under 100 lbs, she was never still. She wore out an Electrolux Vacuum Cleaner, 1 spec of crumb or dirt and she vacuumed the whole house. She was given a year to live at the time of diagnosis, but fought them all and lived 16 months.
     Shortly after diagnosis Nana told Mom and I all the things in the house worth keeping and what was just pretty. She refused to let us be blind to the fact that this disease was going to take her life. As she got sicker and sicker my Senior Prom was approaching, there was nothing more she wanted to see than me in my dress. She was on a lot of pain meds, but made the nurses withhold them for the day. So that she could be lucid. My boyfriend and I went to see her before Prom. She was so happy, she gave me the engagement ring that my Pop gave her. Saying she wouldn’t need it anymore. It is a pretty purple topaz in a silver filigree setting. I think I will wear it today in honor of her.
     A month later she was gone and I felt like someone had pulled the rug out from me. Like I was on Alladin’s Flying Carpet. In mid air, but I was falling, not flying at all. That funeral is a total blur, no bartender, she didn’t want anything. Left us specific instructions not to wear black, she hated it. To wear bright colors, and if we wore black she would come back and haunt us.!!
     Her passing left my Pop all alone. He came to this country at 19 from Scotland, with $25.00 in his pocket, long pants made by his tailor father and his family kilt. He was an athletic trainer at some of the private schools. He could give a great massage, and work out the knots and kinks like no one else.

When my Nana died she left him alone with his demons his bottles of vodka, he had them hidden everywhere. He hadn’t driven for years when Nana was alive due to his bad eyes. He had cataract surgery and his first journey was to the package store. He was a lifelong alcoholic and without her life was not living. He took her mid 70’s Ford LTD on a pakkie run as us kids would have said. After a couple of near misses, the man hadn’t driven in years we took his car away. So as a true Yankee he found a way.. The riding lawnmower became his mode of transport.
     My mom cooked meals for him, but I am sure as soon as she left, the meals went in the trash and the bottle came back out. He didn’t want to live without her. They were eachothers half and it was as if someone buried him when they buried her.
     I was a freshman in college when my mother called to tell me he was in the hospital and I needed to come home. I grabbed a bag and began tossing clothes in it. Clothes for a week..a dress for a funeral. A skirt and a blouse for the wake. Heels for both, and appropriate jewelry. I had danced this dance before. My roommate said you will be back, he will be fine. I knew otherwise, my mom would not have called me home if it wasn’t urgent.
     He was gone by the time I got home. Dead of a massive internal hemorrhage brought on by cirrhosis of the liver. All that alcohol finally caught up with him. But he got his way, 9 months to the day after my Nana was gone and 1 week after his 75th birthday he joined her.
     He wrote his own obituary, left us money for the funeral and money for the party. He wanted bagpipes at his gravesite..to take him home to Scotland. I wanted those bagpipes to bring him back. To summon my Nana too, but no matter how hard I wished and prayed with my eyes scrunched closed they didn’t come back.
     What I wish for now is that they could have seen me grow up, that they all could have seen me graduate from High School, College and with my MBA.  That they could have danced at my wedding, met their great-grandsons. Who are now almost grown men, I am thinking they would be pretty proud of what I have accomplished since they left this earth. But I do know that not a day goes by that I don’t miss one of them.

My hubby and I generally like each others company, which for people who have been married almost 19 years, and together 22,  that is a pretty big accomplishment. Those numbers became real when I took my engagement ring and wedding band to have them re-sized yesterday. I have lost 70lbs in just over 18 months and my rings won’t stay on. The jeweler needs to shrink them 2 sizes, woo hoo!!!  He also needs to put new prongs in my engagement ring because the diamond is “wobbly”. When he asked how old my ring was and I said 21 years he said yup, they get “wobbly” about then. I also need the bottom of the band rebuilt, because it is getting pretty thin. But we chose not to do that until I am at my goal weight, he says it isn’t crucial now, just normal wear n tear.
     The word that I fixated on was “wobble”, because that is how I am feeling right now. The business that my hubby has worked for since he was 15 was bought in July.  He kept his job, that was not an issue, but since July his life has revolved around his job. Our normal family vacation didn’t happen because he wouldn’t take time off. I had a breast lump removed, all by myself because he wouldn’t take time off. He is working 70-80 hrs a week. On salary for the same salary he got working 45 hrs.
     I finally got him to go to Phoenix (we have friends there)  for 4 days in November by threatening that if he didn’t go with me, I would get on a plane and fly across the country by myself.
     In previous years we have done our Christmas Shopping spending every Friday in December together. Nope not this year, we crammed it into the weekends. Even tho he promised me that we would do them on Fridays. When I asked his retort was “you made me take 4 days off in November, that is the only time I am taking”. 
     He had rotator cuff surgery in November, he had to have it done. He was about 3 months from a full shoulder replacement. The surgery went fine, but he couldn’t wait to get back to work.
     I truly do love his new boss,.and his wife is a gem. She and I spend a lot of time together when our husbands are working. I know that his boss appreciates him, but also does not expect my husband to be there the crazy hours that he is.
     Now comes to the most recent blow. My birthday is next week, next Friday to be exact. I know better than to think that he would actually take the day off to spend with me. I did however expect that we would spend Saturday together. It is bad enough that my birthday falls on Super Bowl Weekend..again. When I said to him, how about we go to New Hampshire on Saturday for my Birthday. Just spend the day together, have lunch. Get a nice dinner. He says “my showroom needs to be re organized n my oil rack needs to be re built and moved, that is what John (his boss)  and I were gonna do Saturday. You could help.”  I said “No it is my birthday I want you to spend the day with me”   He had this clueless look on his face, he says it is just a day, what does it matter? 
     So now wobbly is a good explanation for how I feel, there are no prongs holding me up either. My support is gone, and what I thought was right, real and normal seams to be turned on its head.

     Tonight I went to the mall with my youngest, to buy a birthday present for his girlfriend. Yes his girlfriend, how did this happen?  He is 14, will be 15 in just about 6 weeks. It seems that just the blink of an eye ago he was in Kindergarten. Now he is in 9th grade. Picking his Shop in Tech School. Strutting the Mall in his Carolina Boots, his new Patriots Hat and his well worn jeans. Looking like he is the King of the World.
     I sent him to get me something on the other side of Target, and when I finally caught up with him he was chatting with a group of girls. Just looking as cool as possible.
     We grabbed some dinner and the amount of food this skinny child can put away is mindblowing. Then onto Marshall’s so he cud get a black North Face Type Jacket. Mission accomplished!!!
     On the way home after our typical squabble over the radio station, him wanting the HEAT on Sirius/XM, and me wanting Hits 1. Finally the radio ended up on The Highway (Country Radio).
     Over the radio, I could hear him singing along to Florida Georgia Line, Kenny Chesney, Brad Paisley, ZBB, Gloriana, etc. When I would look over at him he wud instantly stop singing, you know it isn’t cool to sing w your mom.
     I love that even when he presents his persona of “too cool for school”. He can still sing in the car with his mom. Oh and this mom has the WORST voice, and should only ever sing in the car or shower.🎼🎵🎶🎤🎤