Steemit Exclusive: Sound Bites From My Childhood…

The following story from my childhood was originally shared on my Steemit account.

I’ve wanted to upload this story sooner than today, but our oldest cat has been sick and after a trip to the vet yesterday it was determined she needs dental surgery. So it’s gonna be a fun next couple weeks up in here.

*The name of the main character in the story below has been changed to protect his privacy and dignity.

Although I was in kindergarten more than 30 years ago, I still very vividly remember this next story. My class was small and one of the kids in my class was named *Fredrick.

On the outside, there wasn’t anything extraordinary about Fredrick, but while we were in kindergarten he was going through an interesting developmental phase…..

He bit people.

Specifically me.

I can’t recall if I was his only victim or if he had others on his munchy list, but I do remember several instances where my arm and his teeth connected. Of course, I told my teacher about this and she made sure that we no longer sat next to each other.

But Fredrick still found a way. I remember one day in particular when I was several kids away from him in the reading circle. Unfortunately, I was sitting next to one of his criminal associates (no doubt part of some sort of kindergarten biting mafia) and they grabbed my arm and stretched it out so that it would make easy contact with his teeth.

This incident prompted a call to Fredrick’s parents and a few days later I got a letter in the mail (this was way before email was a thing) along with a small stuffed bear. The letter was a formal apology from Fredrick.

The biting stopped after this letter was sent. I found out later that in addition to the apology letter/teddy bear, Fredrick’s mom took him to the library (back in the day these were building where you could go and take out books to read for free) and had him look up the word “cannibalism.”

I’ve since tasked mom’s I’m living vicariously through to do this if their little one has a biting phase. 😛

Fast forward 10 years. I was going to a high school that had weekly assemblies. These assemblies had assigned seating that would change every semester. My senior year I looked at the new assembly seating chart and who was I assigned to sit by?

FREDRICK!

I guess this is what happens when you live in a small town and need to fill an assembly hall with assigned seating.

Thankfully, Fredrick kept his teeth to himself during the semester and I emerged bite free at graduation.

So take heart, parents of tiny cannibals, most likely your child will grow out of craving human flesh.

And if not, at least he’ll become an awesome apology note writer. 😉

Cheers! 

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Steemit Exclusive: The Dangers of Getting Dressed in the Dark…..

Growing up in the midwest, there is a certain time of year, namely winter, where you get up before the sun and have to leave for work or school before the sun is up. When I was in high school, I had to ride to school with my mom who was a teacher at the high school I attended. This meant that there were plenty of days that I’d have to get dressed in the dark.

Fortunately, I was still able to look as presentable as you’d imagine for someone who went to high school in the late 90’s, knee-deep in the grunge style scene.

There was one slight drawback for getting dressed in the dark. And I never figured it out till it was almost too late.

I suppose it was my own fault. See, I had a habit of wearing the same pair of jeans more than once in a week. Normally, I’d wear the same pair on consecutive days. But back then I also had a bad habit of not shaking out my pants before putting them back on.

I blamed this on how early I had to wake in the morning.

It wasn’t until I was already at school, waiting for class to start, when all my friends were around, that I would make a grim discovery. I’d find a strange bulge in my lower pant leg. Now, because of my leg brace, I didn’t feel anything weird, it was only when I went to pull my legs to my chest when I was sitting down that I’d feel the strange bulge.

But what was it?

In a word, it was, um…….underwear. Dirty underwear to be exact.

Yeah, turns out I hadn’t shaken out my underwear from my jeans from the day before and they were now stuck in my pant leg.

At school.

In front of my friends.

Ladies and gentlemen, this would be the alternative dream to the one where you arrive at school naked.

So how did I retain my dignity and not let slip (pun intended) my mistake in getting dressed that morning? By a slow and sneaky sleight of hand maneuver. I’d put my hand over the bulge in my leg and begin rubbing it up and down like I had an itch….slowly working the offending garment down my pant leg and out through the leg hole. I’d scrunch it into a tight ball in my fist and hold it tight while I made a sort of “walk of shame” to my mom’s classroom where I’d hand it off to here and she’d put it in her desk. The thought never occurred to me to put it in my locker. I guess I figured it’d be more likely to fall out when I opened my locker and then I’d really give everyone something to talk about.

In a school of no less than 200 students, a tale of runaway underwear would have spread as fast as the tickets sell out for a Taylor Swift concert.

Now you’d think that perhaps this only had to happen once for me to remember to shake out my jeans when I took them off.

You’d be wrong.

Even 20 years later I can remember this happening no less than 3 times.

So why did I include this story? Well, you see, I got dressed in the dark this morning and am now writing this entry in an isolated corner of the grocery store.

With a balled up pair of dirty underwear in my fist.

Some people never learn. 

Cheers! 

Snippety-Do-Da! How One Man Engaged in Textual Relations During His Vasectomy…………

The following very true story was originally shared on my Steemit account


Bloggers Note: Yes, the subject of this blog has been contacted and consent has been given to share the following story. Also, I wrote this and planned to upload it earlier this month during International Childfree Day (August 1st), a holiday that celebrates those without children, but life and a much-needed vacation took priority.

Years ago before Chad and I got married, we had the conversation about whether or not we’d have children. At the time we decided that we’d try to adopt. For complicated reasons, most birth control is a tricky situation for me, so we concluded that Chad would get a vasectomy.

Yep. That’s where this blog is going today. Strap in.

So Chad’s procedure was going to be outpatient and on the morning of his surgery I had to work, it was early in the AM, we were not living together at the time and I can’t drive, so it didn’t make sense for me to go with him. Otherwise, I totally would have. Besides, if I had gone, I wouldn’t have been able to write about this.

You’re welcome.

Anyway, our story begins early on the morning of Chad’s procedure. I’m sleeping in bed and get the following text message from Chad:

“Just arrived at the Dr.’s office and am checking in.” At this point, I was glad the procedure was about to begin and began praying for a smooth operation.

About 10 minutes later I get another text from Chad…….

“It’s so weird to not feel a thing but there is the smell of burning flesh in the room.”

It was at this point that I realized, “HOLY MOTHER OF GOD, HE’S TEXTING ME THROUGH HIS ENTIRE VASECTOMY PROCEDURE!”

And he did.

Every NSFW detail.

Which is strange, unsettling and annoyingly entertaining before 7:30 am. I just didn’t know how to respond.

It’s not like I could have called him to have a casual chat. “Hey babe, how’s it hangin’?” seemed a tad inappropriate.

Also, I would think that any sudden loud noises might startle the surgeon and suddenly you owe money for a vasectomy and bonus circumcision.

The procedure went off without a hitch, and Chad was fully recovered a few days after coming home thanks to a steady diet of pain meds and frozen peas.

So why did we choose to share this story? Two reasons, really. One, it’s just a really funny story And two, we wanted to highlight our experience and mention that in the lead up to the procedure, although our doctor asked several times just to be sure, we were never denied the surgery because the doctor believed strongly that we’d “change our minds.”

I often wonder if we didn’t receive much blowback because it was Chad asking for the procedure and not me. Because being submerged in the childless world for the last few years, I’ve come across so many stories of women who know they don’t want to give birth and having blowback from doctors that they will probably “change their minds later.” Even when the person wanting the procedure is able to pay for it out of pocket.

And I never knew how important the freedom of choice was in this aspect of our lives until we went through our experience. To know what we want beyond a shadow of a doubt and have others believe and back us up.

For that, we are truly grateful and hope others experience the same thing…..

Minus the live stream. 😉

STEEMIT Exclusive: What Happens When I Try To Eat Healthy…….

I’m SO tired today because I was up till 1:30 this morning.  Why? Riley caught a mouse and brought it into the bedroom. Then put it under the bed. I texted Chad the following, “The mouse is now under the bed. I want to move to Florida.” Now, of course, I realize that Florida would be a poor choice because they have gators, but at the time I was not thinking clearly. I was having a real, “Jesus Take the Wheel” moment. 

Because there is was a mouse under our bed. 

To read my full terrifying account, click the link below: 

https://steemit.com/humor/@lulabelle/what-happens-when-i-try-to-eat-healthy

PS: Obviously after the original entry was written, I screwed up my courage, turned on my flashlight and made my way to the bedroom for a rather fitful night of sleep.

And yes, I have since successfully pooped. The ice cream will have to wait till later though. 😉 

Achievement Unlocked…….

Tonight I accomplished something that I never knew could happen.

Like ever. 

I got…….um, let me just back up.

Before going to bed, I went into our bedroom and as sometimes happens, I smelled cat urine. So I followed my nose to the space in between our two dresser drawers. There was a random large trash bag sitting on the carpet and I realized that’s where the smell was coming from. 

So as Chad played “Words With Friends” on his phone before bed, I got down on the floor and went to pick up the bag. Thankfully I saw it glisten and I realized it had cat pee on it. Moving slowly to contain it, I folded up the edges of the bag and carefully lifted the bag off the ground. 

Why I decided to lift the bag over my head, I will never know. But I did and quickly regretted my life choice. 

As I felt cat piss drip on to my leg and onto the ENDS OF MY HAIR!!!

BLEEEEEECH!! 

Unfortunately, I had also just washed my hair and wasn’t so keen on doing it again, so in a strange way, I was thankful it was just the ends of my hair that bore the brunt of the accidental baptism by pee. 

So not only did I need to clean up the carpet, I now needed to wash the ends of my hair to get the smell out. 

Unfortunately, I used the shampoo that was nearest the sink and this specific shampoo (which will remain nameless because we are still playing “financial catch-up” from a slow summer to the point where adding a lawsuit into the mix would result in having us move across several state lines in the dead of night, assume new names, and start another life where Chad drove cattle while I whittled artisan corn cob holders for monks) has top notes of essence that are reminiscent of what I just rinsed out of my hair!  

So that was my Monday! I just can’t wait for what the rest of the week will bring! 😛 

#Sarcasm 😉 

LAFF on Monday: The Key Fiasco…….

The events in the following blog happened a month ago but I haven’t been able to upload this until today.  Enjoy!


We have a good news/bad news situation here. The good news is that after my blog about our fruit fly infestation, they hit the road and we are fruit fly free (try to say that 10 times fast 😛 ).

The bad news is that my set of house keys went missing last Sunday morning. As in, we had the door open to walk/roll out to the car to go to church and Chad wanted to make sure I had my keys and when I went to look in my purse, they were gone.

Now, I didn’t immediately panic because this happens to us more frequently than you might think (or if you know us in real life, you wonder why it doesn’t happen more often). But in the moment I didn’t panic because 9 times out of 10 when we can’t find the house keys it usually takes no more than 10 minutes to find them and get out the door.

This was the 10th time.

So instead of going to church, we listened to Pandora praise and worship music while we TORE. THE. HOUSE. APART. looking for my keys.

No luck. And because we didn’t have an extra set of keys (they were lost a few months ago. Like I said earlier, I’m surprised this hadn’t happened sooner), we couldn’t both leave the house because we had no way of locking the door behind us. While home we continued to look over places we had already checked.

Sunday turned into Monday with no keys in sight.

So to sum up, in the last week we’ve dealt with what seemed to be an apocalyptic influx of fruit flies and now our only set of keys was gone.

If this had been Biblical times, we’d be readying for frogs to start falling from the sky. Or festering boils on our skin. At this point the element of surprise seems to be an important part of our current list of crises.

So when Monday rolled around I decided to up my “finding” game. At this point, Chad and I had a theory that our youngest cat, Riley, had somehow taken off with my keys and hid them because he seems to have a bit of separation anxiety when I specifically leave the house for any length of time.

This theory was weird to me because my key chain is particularly heavy and I had my doubts up to this point that Riley would be able to carry them off.

Until Monday afternoon when my keys had not shown up, even after clearing out sections of our house that hadn’t been cleaned since the mid 80’s.

I even went into the bathroom and went through our full trash-piece-by-piece (and shaking it to see what would fall out) to no avail. It was like a disgusting version of “Double Dare” except there was no cash prize for finding my keys.

Then I moved back into the living room and turned my attention towards our couch (that has been in Chad’s family for over 40 years and looks like it. But it’s so comfortable we wouldn’t think to throw it away.)

When no keys were found underneath the cushions, I knew what I had to do. I would have to take all the cushions off the couch and upholstered chair that was its twin (Yep the couch has a mini-me) and stick my hand into the cracks to see what I could find.

This is where panicked ensued. I REALLY didn’t want to do that. Like, the couch is over 40 years old and who KNOWS what has fallen into the cracks in that time.

**BLECH** (Sidenote: Now I know this is written medium, so you couldn’t tell but that “blech” was me dry heaving looking back on the memory of sticking my hands down the cracks of the couch.)

No keys. Dang-it!

So then I moved onto the couch’s “mini-me,” removed the cushion, said a small prayer to my Lord and Savior and stuck my hand down the back crevice of the chair.

I hit the mother-load! And by mother-load, I mean Riley’s hiding spot for random items found in our house.  I do have a picture somewhere of all the items I found, but because I’m too lazy to try to find it (I may upload it here later), I’ll just list them below. In the crack of the chair I found: 5 q-tips, the other end of the tampon that he’d kicked underneath the fridge, a ballpoint pen, one of his stuffed mice toys and one of Chad’s hair picks! When I pulled out the hair pick, I began to realize the probability was pretty high that our over-sized furry Cheeto had made off with my keys.

Guys, I even combed through the litter boxes just to make sure he didn’t put them in there.
He hadn’t.
Phew!

Two nights later I’m still looking for my keys in our suddenly clean could-eat-off-the-floor-or-lick-it living room, when I heard Chad come home from work. As he’s walking up to our porch I hear something jangling. When he walked into the house he said, “Guess what I found?” And proceeds to pull out MY KEYS!!

Apparently one night after work, Chad was walking up to the house and ran into one of our neighbors. Distracted, he set the keys down on our railing while he had a conversation with our neighbor. And forgot about them. At some point that night my keys fell off the railing and into the bushes.

Where they had been laughing at us ever since for not finding them sooner.

So after we FINALLY got my keys back, we immediately went to get copies made to make sure when we lost our keys again because we will because it’s us  give to our closest friends so that we’d have a way to get in the house if we ever lose them again.

We trust and love these friends so much, they are in our will. Seriously. So we felt very comfortable giving them a spare set of keys to our house just in case.

Guys, can you see where this is going? Yeah, hours after handing over our spare keys to our closest friends in the world, THEY. WENT. MISSING. AGAIN. 

Yeah. I couldn’t make this up if I tried. At this point all we could do was laugh and be grateful we had another set of back up keys.

At least our friends found our spare set 3 hours later. Which is why they are in our will. 

Cheers! 😀

Riley's Stash

Photographic evidence that we are in way over our heads appears courtesy of our personal photo archives 

The One Where Lulabelle Reconsiders Hygiene Rules She’s Followed Since Childhood…….

Well that lasted 9 months. Almost 9 months to the exact day. But today I had to do a reset of sorts.

Guys, I have to reset my vomit clock.

Again.

And to add insult to injury I was doing something you are taught in childhood to do several times a day to stay healthy.

I was brushing my teeth.

Yeah.

Let me repeat that.

I threw up because I was BRUSHING. MY. TEETH.

Now to ensure my breath is fresh, I brush over my tongue. I’ve down this for years. But today for some reason when I brushed my tongue my body decided it wanted to be reminded of what I had for breakfast.

In reverse.

Now I can probably pin-point the reason why this happened if I think back to how heavy-handed I can be with brushing my teeth. I once went to the dentist for a toothache and was told that it was gum inflammation caused by flossing my teeth too hard. He literally ordered me to STOP FLOSSING MY TEETH FOR A FEW DAYS.

True story! I mean WHO DOES THAT? 

Me, apparently. 😛 

So if you are keeping track, so far in the last 9 months the following things I used to partake in to keep myself healthy, I am now hesitant to ever do again in life: 

1. Take generic fish oil gel capsules that are the same size as the woman’s multivitamin I used to consume. 

2. The aforementioned woman’s multi-vitamin whose size had been labeled a “horse” pill. Why we are comparing vitamin size to a pill a horse takes is beyond me. I am not a horse so I shouldn’t have to digest something that is normally shoved up a horse’s nether regions. (I’m sure it’s probably taken orally, but surely sometimes this happens? Yes? Moving on…..) 

3. Brushing my teeth. Now I appreciate and love the feelings of slick, clean teeth on my tongue as much as the next guy, but when you see your breakfast in reverse after such an activity, you begin to think that maybe it’s not that big of a deal if your teeth get fuzzy and your breath becomes so foul that it could bring dragons back to life. 

I’ve always wanted a dragon.

And to be honest it would be quite useful at this point in my life. 😛 

So apparently what we have learned from all this is that growing older has some unintended consequences that I’m glad I didn’t know beforehand. 

I just hope the next time I brush my hair, it doesn’t fall out. 

Fingers crossed. 

It is a scientific fact that I’ve never once barfed after eating licorice. This is not my fault. It’s science.