Happy Halloweenie!

My Favorite Commercial of All Time!

A Real Pain

I had a dermatologist appointment today to check out the dry patches on my hand which had started bothering me lately. I picked a reputable medical office and doctor with good reviews from yelp.com who was in my insurance network. Unfortunately, she is getting ready to go on maternity leave and isn't taking appointments for the rest of the year. But, she's in practice with several other doctors, so I made an appointment with Dr. Soleymani. Other than setting up the appointment, I hadn't given it much thought at all.

I arrived at the office today and filled out all that "new doctor" paperwork. Gotta love the red tape. When I finished, I settled back in for my wait and as soon as I got comfortable, they called my name. I was really startled and looked up to see that they were, indeed, already ready for me! I went to the back and chatted amiably with the nurse. I told her that if they were going to weigh me at the dermatologist, I was leaving. She laughed and assured me that wasn't necessary. She looked at the dry spots and asked me if I had any allergies and whatnot. She made notes and told me the doctor would be in shortly. Five minutes later, there he was. I barely had time to pull out my book! I was like, "What's wrong with you people?"

Not only that, Dr. Soleymani turned out to be young and handsome! I was like, "He-llo!" But before I could determine what fake skin disease I was going to come down with to have an excuse to come back and gawk at him, he told me that the dry spots on my fingers were warts. Excuse me? First of all...gross. I am mortified to have to report that I have warts. Second of all...why is it that I get a cute doctor to treat my warts?! Why can't it be a cute problem that makes me look sexy?

Anyway, I figured that he'd give me some sort of topical cream and maybe some sort of anti-biotic since I think I heard somewhere that warts are caused by a virus. The doctor asked me if I'd like to take care of them. Which, by the way, seems like a silly question...would I be there if I wanted to keep them? Our conversation went something like this,

Dr. S: No problem. We'll do a liquid nitrogen treatment today and have you back in a month to review the results.

Cindi: Liquid nitrogen? Like that Freeze Away stuff on tv.

Dr. S: Yeah, sort of. The difference is that that is about -20 degrees, whereas what I'll be using today is about -200 degrees. Actually, it's quite a difference.

Cindi: (a bit alarmed) Uh...yeah. Ok.

Then he pulled out a silver canister. I'm still not sure where it came from. Although I think that he materialized it from thin air, as I am partially convinced that he is the anti-Christ.

He started to spray the small spot on my left pinkie finger and asked, "How are you doing?"

I said, "Fine."

He smiled at me and said, "Oh, good. You have a high threshold for pain." I beamed as I was absurdly pleased with this and mentally congratulated myself for doing something worth complimenting. Then his words sort of sunk in and I thought, "High threshold for pain? What?" I do not. In fact, nothing at all about me screams, "High threshold for pain." Mike will testify that I'm a big, old cry baby. I started to get the feeling that I was in trouble. I laughed nervously as this went through my brain and out loud said, "Uh...I'm not sure what you're talking about."

He didn't look up from where he was spraying my left ring finger and said, "Oh. Well, unfortunately this can be quite painful." Painful? Painful? I started getting worried, but so far other than a slight stinging, it wasn't bad at all - so I just shut up.

He started to move to my right hand and, as he did so, the left hand started to thaw. And I knew what he'd been talking about. I bit my lip to keep from shrieking as my flesh protested the treatment. The two spots on my right hand are larger and it hurt badly from the get-go on the right side. I shut my eyes and scrunched my face - determined to keep up the machismo and not let on that I felt like screaming like a banshee. At least he was done with the right hand and I took a deep, relieved breath.

He picked up my left hand and examined his "handi-work"...get it? Hee hee. I concentrated on my breathing...I figured if it worked for giving birth, surely it would work for this. Then he said words that chilled me to the bone. "Ok. Looks like we're good for round two."

Inside my head, I thought, "Excuse me?" But on the outside, I said, "EXCUSE ME?!!!!" He looked at me apologetically and explained that in order to make it more effective, he has to do it twice on each spot. I thought I was going to cry. But I sucked it up. I didn't go through all that pain the first time for nothing. By the time the second treatment was finished, all I could concentrate on was the screaming inside my head. I really needed to have Mike there because I could tell that he was speaking to me but I couldn't bring myself to focus on him.

"...soreness...red irritation...blood blister...turn black and fall off..." At that point, I snapped back to attention long enough to insure he was talking about the wart and not my finger. "...disfigured fingernail...will straighten out." I'm still concentrating on my breathing, when he says, "Take ibuprofen if you're feeling pain." If? If I'm feeling pain? Ibuprofen!? How about some oxycontin with a vicodin chaser?!



The worst part? I have to go back in a month so he can see how it's doing and if it's not gone, I'll have to do this all over again. Somebody make the bad man stop!

A New Favorite

I don't know what it is about Tom Petty...but I adore him. I've always liked a song of his here and there, but I was never all that aware of who he was or of his music as a whole. Then I hooked up with Mr. Music Know-It-All and eventually married him. Mike has inadvertently triggered my obsessions with certain songs that I never knew existed. Most notably Neil Young's "Journey Through the Past," which I could listen to every minute for the rest of my life and never get tired of - and which I never heard of until 2007 despite the fact that the song is older than I am. Yet despite his best efforts, I'm still not a big fan of Pearl Jam. But I digress.

A few years ago, Mike bought for me the Greatest Hits album of Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. I listened to it all the way through and found out that Tom Petty sang a lot of the songs I'd liked over the years (but never knew he sang). I vowed to buy all of Tom Petty's albums and discover what I'd been missing over the course of my lifetime. Despite this vow, I currently own only two of his albums. Greatest Hits and Southern Accents. That's the story of my life...full of big ideas - not so great on the follow through. :D

Anyway, despite only owning two albums, I have occasionally heard a song I liked and downloaded it from iTunes. And today I heard my (current) favorite song for the first time - even though it was released on his 1987 album. (I really gotta get on that whole 'buying all the albums' thing - who knows what I'm missing?!) Anyway, the song is called It'll All Work Out. I've included it below...ignore the random pictures. I have no idea who that is...the sound quality's better on this than on the live videos on YouTube.

For Kristie

Who just got back from Italy.

Big Boy JO-ey's Big Boy Birthday Bash

This weekend Mike and I went to Michigan to attend the birthday party of our own Big Boy JO-ey, who turns 6 on Oct. 30.

Everybody was there! Grandma and her "companion", Woody. (She brought Grandpa, too)...but she was all over Woody all night. Shameless. :D

And a party just isn't a party if your aunties don't show up! (Auntie Laurie)

and Auntie Kristie...just off of the Italian leg of her world tour.

And, of course, Mike and I made it.

The birthday boy was kind enough to have his picture made with us.

B.B.J.'s friends, Keegan and Caleb (Kaleb?) were there also. As you can see, Mom has given up trying to figure out all those "boy toys." Just wait until he's older, Andrea...you'll be nostalgic for when he was playing with these kinds of toys and not the expensive electronic and/or fuel injected kind.

Of course Handsome Alex made it, too. A good thing, too. He and I entertained each other most of the evening playing Neneball (don't ask) and making up team names for the new NNL (National Neneball League).

Here you can see B.B.J. holding up part of the present Mike and I bought for him. This was the longest I could get him to hold still all night.

B.B.J's big boy Cars cake. Very cool.

Here they are holding a conference while they attempt to set up one of B.B.J's new birthday presents...a Webkinz? Some sort of stuffed thing-a-ma-jig that you have to go online and feed.

Don't tell Meme...next thing you know she'll be asking us to buy her one. Probably a kitty. What will they think of next?

Just Cute

This Is So Me

Thank You Pumpkins

Mike and I got some threatening mail today! (Notice one of the pumpkins has come for us!) Carter and Cole sent Mike and I thank you pumpkins for the White Sox jerseys that we sent them last month. Mike was especially tickled by the idea of thank you pumpkins and has given them a spot of honor on our fridge. I say that because he is constantly "thinning the herd." He doesn't like it when the fridge looks too cluttered.


I'm on the look out for hockey gear next. I have sworn that I will make hockey fans out of those boys and I shall! (You can thank me for that later, Sara. ;) )

A Comment from My Dad

My dad called me in response to my Steve Martin quote about the beautiful people. He reminded me of a story that my mother used to tell, which was one of her favorites and I've decided to give a retelling of it here.

A little background first...my Grandpa Parker had had a stroke and, although he could still communicate, his reflexes were usually a little slow. My dad describes it by saying that when he'd drive him home, he'd ask Grandpa a question and it would take Grandpa a mile or two down the road before he'd answer.

Well, on this particular occasion, the family was together for one reason or another and Uncle Mike was...in my dad's words..."smarting off" about how whatever they were talking about was something that 'the beautiful people' do. Grandpa piped right up and said, "How in the hell would you know?"

It was at the time, and remained, a favorite story of my mom's to use to tease Uncle Mike.

An Unfortunate "Accident"

So, Monday I accidentally made Mike eat peanut butter. I had picked up a cookie that I thought was M&M, broken off a piece of it and fed it to him. He didn't give any indication that anything was amiss...he ate it. I broke off another piece to give to him and he said he didn't want anymore. I found this very hard to believe! Mike? Turning down cookie!? I protested that he needed to eat the cookie and once again he said, "No, thanks."

I was ready to insist that he just eat the dang thing because I wouldn't have gotten it if I'd known he wasn't going to split it with me when he softly said, "I think it has peanut butter in it." I was startled and then I heard the cookie lady tell someone else that they were made with reece's pieces. I froze as I realized I'd really fed peanut butter to Mike...who won't even get within five feet of me after I've had a peanut butter cup.

Naturally, I started to feel bad. I apologized to Mike and told him that I thought they were M&Ms. He shot me an incredulous look and said (quite disbelievingly), "M&Ms aren't that color!" I started to protest! It's fall/Halloween time and they're orange and black! It is absolutely feasible that they were M&Ms!

Then I decided that I'll let him think that I fed him peanut butter on purpose. Next time it comes up...and you know it will come up...:D...I'm going to say, "That's what you get when you mess with me. A mouth full of peanut butter!"

When Thirty Was Old

Remember when you used to be able to eat anything and never think twice about it. Tonight I ate dinner late and woke up at 3AM with a sour stomach.

Plus Mike gets up for work in the morning and watches the Weather Channel.

Our twenties really are over! :D

Almost There...

Ok. The wall's fixed! YaY! The tiles are replaced! YaY!

But now I only have half of a towel rack! (Sigh). Or is that a third? Anyway, the rest of it's gone!

Did you ever get those headaches right behind your eyeball?

This Made Me Laugh

Quote for Today

"It's very hard being one of the most beautiful people. Having this kind of beauty is actually a burden. Sometimes I go to a party and not one of the other 49 most beautiful people is there. That makes me feel very solitary and alone, because it means I am the most beautiful person in the room. If I'm going to a party where I know there will be 'less-beautiful people,' I try to 'dress down' in order to hide my beauty. But this seems to have a counter-effect of actually making me more beautiful. I guess me and dungarees are a pretty potent combination. I try not to lord my beauty over others. This is very hard. I try not to mention that I am one of the most beautiful people, but somehow it always comes out. I will usually only bring it up when I'm asked to do a task, like open a garage door. People seem to enjoy my beauty and are genuinely happy for me, because after I mention it they always say, 'How nice for you.'"

-- Steve Martin, from People Magazine, 20 May 2003, in which Martin was listed as one of the 50 Most Beautiful People.

It's Like the Hiccups...I Can't Stop!

For some reason, I've had the song Tonight You Belong to Me in my head all day. Those 'in the know' will recognize it as one of the songs that Steve Martin and Bernadette Peters sing in the movie The Jerk - which is another of my favorites. Not to be confused with "I'm picking out a thermos for you..."

I've been unpacking my Willow Tree angels and whatnot...and singing this to myself all day. I think I've been driving Mike crazy but I hardly even know that I'm even doing it anymore! I even do the cornet part. Yikes.

Tonight You Belong to Me

I know (I know)
You belong to somebody new
But Tonight you belong to me
Although (although) we're apart
You're part of my heart
And tonight you belong to me

Way down by the stream
How sweet it will seem
Once more just to dream
In the moonlight
My honey I know (I know)
With the dawn that you will be gone
But tonight you belong to me
Just to little old me

I've Been Tagged!

I remember when my mom made Matt believe that our beagle, Ralph, could answer ‘yes’ or ‘no’ questions by nodding or shaking his head.

I remember my dad taking me to the Bishop Buffet and Quad City Downs when I was 12 and letting me pick which horses we bet on.

I remember Jeff and I convincing Matt (repeatedly) that he was adopted.

I remember sitting at Matt’s funeral and thinking about holding his hand on his first day of kindergarten.

I remember my mom telling me when she first realized there was a difference between our generations. I was eleven and wanted her to buy me a cassette with my new favorite song on it but I couldn’t remember who sang it. One day, I came out and said that the dj had finally said the name of the man who sang the song. “Some guy named George Harrison.”


I remember sitting and watching “The Muppet Movie” with my Uncle Mike.
I remember making cinnamon toast at my Granny’s house. She always let us shake up the container with the toast, sugar and cinnamon in it.


I remember the bluebells that used to grow on the hill behind my Granny’s house and the day lilies in her back yard.

I remember how my mom used to scrunch her face and wheeze when you made her laugh really hard and how easy it was to make her laugh.

I remember holding my nephew Caleb for the first time, how he used to “hit a deer” with his little red cozy coupe and would flip it upside down to fix it when he “got a flat tire.”

I remember the first dog I ever had, Tippy Petite, and the trick my Uncle Tony taught her to do. (She’d roll over on her back if you snapped your fingers.)

I remember what 999,992 + 8 is.

I remember my dad singing old Johnny Horton songs to me when we would go places together in his truck.

Everybody I know with a blog has already been tagged - so I tag Mike. I wouldn't hold my breath about whether or not he'll answer. But he's been tagged! :D

An Update

Update on donating to "Jimbo" the cat! If you don't want to send your money online to someone you don't know, you can make a payment directly to the animal hospital where Jimbo is having his surgery.

Send to:
Logan Square Animal Hospital
2543 N. Milwaukee
Chicago, IL 60647
(773) 384-1138

Please mention that your donation is for Jimbo the cat or Nancy Soto (as owner).

Annie and Pesto and Gnocchi, Oh My!

As I was saying, I went to see Annie Lennox at the Cadillac Palace. I spent $65 for this ticket (we upgraded from cheap seats) - which is more than I am usually willing to pay to see anybody. What? I'm thrifty. Our seats were awesome, though.

The opening act was a chick named Carina Round who came on stage wearing a very unfortunate purple dress. She was very funny, but I didn't really care for her music. Sort of Rickie Lee Jones meets Jewel with Alanis angst. She also did some sort of weird Iggy Pop and the Stooges thing that left Leigh and I confused.
Annie, though? Annie was great! I had to be talked into going to the concert. I like the Eurythmics alright - but it was just her, so I was afraid she wouldn't do any of the old songs. Wrong. She did a version of Sweet Dreams that had Leigh practically up on her seat shaking her bippy! And anybody who knows Leigh knows that this is an extremely rare occurrence as she's usually quasi-grouchy and anti-social. In fact, I'm one of very few people that I know she likes.

But then it's me...what's not to like? :D I'm not going to bore you with a blow by blow review of the show except to say that I had a very, very good time.

But my favorite part of the night? Having gnocchi from Maggiano's Little Italy for the first time and actually liking it. Who would have ever thought that I, finicky eating queen of the universe, would ever eat anything called gnocchi? De-lish.

A gnocchi recipe you can make for me when I visit you. One request - no pesto. I'm definitely a cream sauce girl.

Attention Animal Lovers

A worthy cause!

This pretty kitty was hit by a car and needs surgery to fix his broken back leg. The lady who found the cat doesn't own him (can anyone ever really own a cat anyway?) and doesn't have the $800 for the surgery. Donations are being accepted through fundable in $10 increments. If you have $10 spare dollars, please consider lending a helping hand! And please help spread the word - pass the link along to anyone who might be interested! Thanks! :D

Sincerely yours,
Furio and Meme Kurczewski

Side Effects May Include

Well, all of my complaining must have taken root in Mike's brain because Friday night, after going to see Annie Lennox with my friend, Leigh - I came home to find these one the table!

The card says, "Happy Sweetest Day. I love you. Michael." Nice, huh? Naturally, I gushed about how pretty they are etc. Cesar Millan (The Dog Whisperer) says that you must reward positive behavior. I know that's advice about dogs, but I think it probably works for husbands too. (Don't tell Mike I said that, though.) :D

After I sniffed the flowers and complimented him for an appropriate amount of time, I settled in to check my e-mail, read my blog roll and generally relax. Keep in mind, I'd had about five hours sleep, gone to work and then was out all evening having dinner and going to the concert with Leigh. We got back to the house just after midnight, so I'm tired and cranky. Anyway, I'm trying to relax and Mike's hovering, which drives me nuts. I'm trying not to be irritated but finally I was like, "Do you need the computer, sweet pea?" "No," he says. So I go back to what I was doing - until once again it's irritating me. "What? Why are you hovering? Do you need something?" I say. Mike smirks at me, "You can't be mean to me - I brought you flowers." I'm thinking, "Says who?" Since when does society mandate that I am required to be polite just because I was presented with a romantic boon? This is fishy to me. But, I'm still trying not to be churlish. I say, "I think Mr. Giunta (Furio) would like to watch tv with you in 'the boy's room'. Or the baby's tired...you could go lie down with her in the big bed." Mike looks affronted and (fake) haughtily says, "Fine...my flowers and I will go to bed now."

Mike still insists that I breached proper flower receiving etiquette! Eleven and one half years he has been my boyfriend/husband and in that time...that whole time...he has given me flowers a total of four times. He sent flowers on our six month anniversary (very smooth, actually), I basically forced him to buy me flowers on Valentine's Day a few years ago, two years ago he brought me flowers when he picked me up from working at the museum I worked at (and hated every second of working at) because he knew I hated to work there and was only doing it so we'd have money to pay for our wedding (very, very smooth) and then he brought me these flowers (smooth and sweet). I argued that I gave the requisite attention to the gesture! And messing with me on such an occasion (no sleep, stress, work, cranky) is a snappable offense - flowers or no flowers! And I didn't even snap! I merely made a polite suggestion that his time might be better spent in another vocation besides pestering me to death!

But I realize now I approached his claim inappropriately. Instead of arguing that I was clearly in the right (which I was), I should have said, "Oh...perhaps if I got flowers more often, I'd be more up to date on the proper etiquette." Why is it I always think of the perfect comeback after the moment has passed?! :D

The Saga Continues

He wasn't gone, but I told the super that I was leaving and that he was in charge of supervising the guy and making sure our doors got locked when the guy left. No problem there...but...

Well, the new medicine cabinet is pretty cool. The mess that the guy left behind...not so much. The dirty sink and vanity that Mike just cleaned and polished yesterday looks like this. (And yes, that is my cat trying to lick up the dirty water...silly cats.)

The holes he left in the wall where he put in a new outlet. Mike is flipping out about this one. We're calling the super to find out exactly when we can expect someone in to patch this up.

The tiles he had to take off to cut a big enough hole for our new medicine cabinet and never replaced. They laying stacked (dust and grime coated) on our heater for someone else to put back up.

The towel rack he pulled half of off and left laying on our bathroom floor. Again - not super pleased about this one.

The state in which he left our brand newly refinished bathtub.

So far the landlord and the super have been really good about getting people in to fix things right away and working with us to get everything the way we want it, so we're trying not to freak out just yet. I'm just curious as to whether or not they knew he was going to leave the place looking like this. I don't even mind cleaning up after the guy. Mike's so anal about cleaning that he'd have to re-clean everything anyway. But the big holes in the wall are another story.

We're going away overnight to Iowa. Mike put his phone through the washing machine with his pants. Let's just say he didn't find it as funny when he did it. Luckily, we have a spare phone that we can switch out. We just have to go to Iowa to do it since we're on a family plan with my dad. We're calling Leo in the morning to straighten everything out and hopefully we will come home to non-extra-ventilated walls.

Here's hoping!

Five Hours Sleep...

The medicine cabinet guy is here - he's been working since about nine this morning. I'm hoping that he's about done because I have to get ready to go to work pretty soon. I didn't sleep so good last night and I had to get up about eight because I knew he was coming this morning. I had hoped to be able to let him in and go back to sleep on the couch. No such luck - turns out I'm a little creeped out by the idea of sleeping with a total stranger in my house. Not to mention that the new cabinet is HUGE. The guy had to pull out our old cabinet and cut a bigger hole in the wall. He's still not done and I have to leave for work in 40 minutes. He just had me pulling out the dresser in the spare room, though, so he could rewire for the new cabinet - so I'm hoping he's nearing the end. The question is...what do I do if he's still here?

I've Gone Montage Crazy

Well, you knew it was only a matter of time. Here's my montage for my mommy.

Make an on-line slideshow at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Even Rocky Had a Montage

Make an on-line slide show at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Missing Mom

I got this thing in my e-mail today. I have no idea who wrote it - otherwise I'd give them credit. It made me miss my mom - but then a lot of things still do that. It's hard to believe it's been almost 14 months since she died! It somehow seems both shorter and longer than that.

Of course, my mother never lived to be "old." She was 57. And I never got to say good-bye or suspected that the last conversation we had might be our last. Even though I somehow felt that this was how it would be when she died, I was not prepared to get the phone call from my dad. Sometimes it's hard not to be mad because it had to be my mom that died young, but I feel like I've come a long way in this past year.

Plus, I think my mother's death has helped other people, like Mike, appreciate their own mothers and not take them so much for granted and I think that she would have liked that.

Me and my mom, Linda - late 1970's

(I have no idea what dog this is...Dad, do you?)

The young mother set her foot on the path of life. "Is this the long way?" she asked.

And the guide said: "Yes, and the way is hard. And you will be old before you reach the end of it. But the end will be better than the beginning."

But the young mother was happy, and she would not believe that anything could be better than these years. So she played with her children, and gathered flowers for them along the way, and bathed them in the clear streams; and the sun shone on them, and the young Mother cried, "Nothing will ever be lovelier than this."

Then the night came, and the storm, and the path was dark, and the children shook with fear and cold, and the mother drew them close and covered them with her mantle, and the children said, "Mother, we are not afraid, for you are near, and no harm can come."

And the morning came, and there was a hill ahead, and the children climbed and grew weary, and the mother was weary. But at all times she said to the children," A little patience and we are there." So the children climbed, and when they reached the top they said, "Mother, we would not have done it without you."

And the mother, when she lay down at night looked up at the stars and said, "This is a better day than the last, for my children have learned fortitude in the face of hardness. Yesterday I gave them courage. Today, I've given them strength."

And the next day came strange clouds which darkened the earth, clouds of war and hate and evil, and the children groped and stumbled, and the mother said: "Look up. Lift your eyes to the light." And the children looked and saw above the clouds an everlasting glory, and it guided them beyond the darkness. And that night the Mother said, "This is the best day of all, for I have shown my children God."

And the days went on, and the weeks and the months and the years, and the mother grew old and she was little and bent. But her children were tall and strong, and walked with courage. And when the way was rough, they lifted her, for she was as light as a feather; and at last they came to a hill, and beyond they could see a shining road and golden gates flung wide. And mother said, "I have reached the end of my journey. And now I know the end is better than the beginning, for my children can walk alone, and their children after them."

And the children said, "You will always walk with us, Mother, even when you have gone through the gates." And they stood and watched her as she went on alone, and the gates closed after her. And they said: "We cannot see her but she is with us still. A Mother like ours is more than a memory. She is a living presence......."

Your Mother is always with you.... She's the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street; she's the smell of bleach in your freshly laundered socks; she's the cool hand on your brow when you're not well. Your Mother lives inside your laughter. And she's crystallized in every tear drop. She's the place you came from, your first home; and she's the map you follow with every step you take. She's your first love and your first heartbreak, and nothing on earth can separate you.

Not time, not space... not even death!

But Wait! There's More!

Dinner! I made lasagna. Half meaty - half cheese.

And garlic bread just like my mama used to make.

Yummy, yummy.