My Life as a Hotfessional

Looking through the lens
So much more than can be seen
With the naked eye

I’m combining my own Hotlight and Haiku Friday because I’m being all artsy-fartsy today. I love writing haikus and limericks (although my limerick ability has been pretty shoddy lately - I use up all my naughties spitting out prose these days) so I thought I’d join in all the fun that everyone has on Fridays.

Back in January (y’all, it’s the end of February! - we’re going to survive winter, I think), I asked for your favorite photography site. I am a frustrated photographer. I don’t have the right equipment (I carry around a point-and-shoot or [shhhhh] my phone). I don’t have Photoshop. I am too impatient.

But I love to browse through blogs where those with the gift use their photographs to share their lives with us. Thank you all who sent me these links.

Enjoy!

Clik&Clak (thanks to Lyvvie) - A beautiful site with music tied to the photos. Make sure you travel to the blogger’s other site From Belgium with Love - where everything is sepia-toned.

Lawstude’s Journeys (thanks to Dizzy Ms Lizzy) - photos from a law student traveling all over the world.

Dry Reading (thanks to Amanda) - an absolutely amazing site with beautiful photos from Craig Hickman and others. Tips and software (check out his weather guy and his D- program) also included.

All Eyes on Jenny (thanks to Lys) is the personal blog of Jenny Frazier - a young Bostonian working in PR. Her photography portfolio is amazing.

Brenda Eckhardt Photography (thanks to RC) - Personal and Senior High School portraiture. Beautiful work.

Intimate Photography by Amelia (thanks to Mouse) - a new blogger (Jan 2008). Go show her some love!

And my personal favorites:

Meghan - Xan and River’s mom is a gorgeous woman with a beautiful family and amazing talent.

The Pioneer Woman - Another Ree (hence sometimes I comment as “the Other Ree”). Who almost went to Chicago in black pumps. Instead she stayed west with Marlboro Man to take pictures. And raise punks.

—- Y’all?  I’m giving up my day of REST for you.  Today is Blog365’s day of rest since it’s Leap Year.  If you’re wondering why your feed readers are actually a little calmer today, it’s because every other crazy ass who joined up to blog all year is taking today off.  But not me.  Because I promised you a Blogolution.  Yea, yea, you know.  —-

I didn’t go shopping when Mr. Hot was at the why can’t I breathe asthma doctor. He was so stressed about the whole thing after driving the 60 miles in a fuckin’ blizzard (why yes, another blizzard in Michigan, in February! Shocking, isn’t it?), I didn’t have the heart to remind him that he told me he’d drop me off at the mall. Apparently, to the non-child-bearing gender, shopping and breathing are not actually the same thing. I figured he’d forgotten, and so I think, “Okay…I’ll just read old magazines in the waiting room. If he gets finished fast, maybe I can have him stop at the strip mall down the road so I can take a quick look at the shoes in Dress Barn.”

Actually, though, once we got settled into our waiting room chairs, I figured out that he hadn’t forgotten. Because when they called his name - “Mr. Hot, the doctor will see you now” (which, we all know, is nothing but a bald-faced-lie), he looked down at me and said “Will you come back with me?” Y’all? This has never happened! Of course, I’ve never actually been to the doctor with him, either, but still! Now I was really worried. What did he know that I didn’t already beat out of him?

So, we follow Miss Nurse back to the “breathing test” room. He gets weighed. He rolls his eyes at me. I know he’s gained weight since he was there last, but it’s only been a year….then he tells me that the last time he was there, they didn’t weigh him. So, it’s been 18 months or more. Ooops. About the time we moved out to CornFieldLand and the bike riding and the soccer stopped. I understand the eye roll now. Probably 20 lbs over the last time he was there.

The blood pressure was a little higher than normal, but after checking her chart and looking outside, she figures that anyone who drove as far as we did in the suck-ass snow was probably not going to be calm, cool, and collected and let it go.
Then comes the hard part.  The nurse tells him, “Take a deep breath. Put this in your mouth and blow out. Keep it in your mouth and breath back in through your mouth.” He blows out and goes into a coughing fit. Three times in a row. He’s sweating. The nurse asks if he’s going to pass out. He shakes his head. He never manages to keep it in his mouth for the “back in” part. I kiss goodbye to seeing a pair of shoes today, other than the ugly white ones the nurse was wearing. In fact, I start wondering if we’ll make it home in order to feed Shortman dinner.

They do a breathing treatment to open his airways so he can be retested. We sit around for another 30 minutes after the treatment, then he goes back to blow some more. This time, he manages to keep the plastic piece in his mouth through the inhalation part. Another 30 minutes later the doctor comes back in. Now = 85 minutes after we moved to the examination room.

Based on the second breathing test, she doesn’t believe it’s the asthma that is rearing it’s ugly head so much as a return of the reflux disease that he fights when he gains weight. Which also affects his breathing. Because asthma and acid reflux together? Suck. Blow. Er, actually, they permit you to do neither.

Two weeks on Advair, 3 months of Ranitidine before bed. And keep exercising and eating right. (He started back running/lifting in February after a couple of months off. But it’s not enough - diet has to change, too.) He thanked me at least three times for coming with him. Not only for the company on the ride, (which wasn’t nearly as white-knuckley on the way back), but for sticking with him in the examining room.

At that point it truly hit me (after 17 years of marriage!) - we will be advocating each other’s health care through the next 20 or 30 years.

Now, this isn’t the first time that we’ve been through illness. Once, he had bursitis and the emergency room doctors convinced me that he had an enlarged aorta and would probably die if they let him leave. (When the CT-scan showed no abnormalities in his heart or lungs, they gave him Tylenol and sent him home!)

But then, we were both young younger and injuries or accidents were much more likely than long-term illness. (I know there are plenty of young couples who are affected by serious long-term illness and my heart hurts for them.) Somehow, though, it truly hit home as I sat there, next to the man I promised to have and to hold, through sickness and through health, that there will probably be many more times that we sit next to each other, waiting for the doctor to walk through the door. That our wrinkled hands and fingers will entwine while clipboards are read and written upon. While test results are awaited. And somehow, it made me feel way more grown up than I wanted to be.

—- We’ve been so lucky. Our children are healthy. We’ve only lost one parent between the two of us (his father, 4 years ago). Our brothers and sisters and their children are healthy. And for that, as alway, I’m grateful. —-

Remember New Year’s Day? I made a couple of Blogolutions. Things that are just for you! First, a monthly updated Blogroll with links to the month’s new commenters. (See, lurkers!?! If you comment, you too will be added to the ever-growing Linked List of Lust.) Two Months ! I swear this is the BEST I’ve ever kept a resolution.
More sites you must check out:

Jason. For the Love of God. Her kids told her she was perfect. The Perfect Mom! Damn.
Moo’s Moo Blogging since 2005 - you really should read this.
Emptying Our Nest Betsy Bird - Another Mom Of Teen with Penis (Bow down to us!)
Boneblower’s World Boneblower = Trombone player. Geez you guys.
Emily Pie One of our TravHell Contest winners.
Prattle Inc. She lives near 6 SuperTargets, but it’s not all peaches and cream.
Thursday Drive Reading, Writing, and Driving in Arizona
Missy Marshmallow Yet another wine lover. But! It’s HER job.
Not Just Barbra Another woman who knows the truth of 3.
Hateful Bitch Honest, Direct, but NOT sweet.
Just Kat Stuff Another Blog365 crazy nutjob.
WTF have I done? I was in love when I saw her header!
The Super Bongo Funny Monkey makes me laugh
Couture Me If You Can A Sister Sexy-Exy Super Duper Blogger Book Clubber!
Barbetti Ask her about “Brady Bunches”. Seriously.

—- Look for Hot Shots - the Photography Hotlight post on the 29th —-

Dear Body,

You were so skinny. So tall. Your feet kept growing and growing. I hated that all of the clothes that my friends were wearing; the bell bottom jeans, the midi skirts; looked nothing like they were supposed to when worn by you. Nothing about hearing the term “floods” made me think of water - only that you continued rocketing skyward, a sunflower - a beanstalk - a giraffe.

When you were in High School, the boys were interested in walking behind you, but not dating you. Apparently the view from behind was quite exciting for them, but get around to the front? The acne, the coke-bottle glasses, and the nose (oh, how you hated your nose - a holdback from years earlier - nothing like being compared to a flamingo - for the length of your legs AND the size of your beak).

When you first started thinking about making a baby, nothing worked. Years of going without birth control. When the doctors said that it wasn’t your fault, you moved on. It wasn’t the only reason, but it certainly didn’t keep you interested in staying put. You mourned for what you couldn’t have. People commented on how small; how tiny; how ill you looked. And yet, you focused on learning so much more about life and love.

And then, one day you woke me up at 2 in the morning, soaking my sheets, to let me know that you were done holding onto my baby. You strained and sweated through the day and evening, and then gave me that son. My healthy, happy little boy; grown now to a happy and healthy young man.

And now, you’re telling me that it’s time to move onto the next stage. The stage where you no longer prepare for the possibility of nourishing and sheltering a baby. The stage where, according to the magazines, you’ll give me “renewed energy” and “confidence in myself.” And also, “hot flashes” and “vaginal dryness” and “decreased libido”. (Can we do without those last things, please?)

I’ve noticed that you hold onto the chocolate now. You hold onto the bread and the cheese and the wine. I’ve been pushing you harder lately, because I know that you love these things - so you must help me by allowing me to run a little further - a little faster - you must let me lift more weight and kick higher. You must stop screaming when I bend your knees or move your hips. (And while we’re at it, since you’re telling me that you’re getting older, could you stop the oil production that causes pimples to appear in my wrinkles?)

I will always love you. I love that you have allowed me to live these 45 years without serious illness; without breaking down. I promise that I will continue to love you until you decide you can no longer carry me through my days and we part ways. I promise that whatever is left of you will be given to another - and I hope you will serve that life as well as you have served me.

Always, and Sincerely,

The Hotfessional

P.S. Seriously, though, this slowing metabolism? Sucks eggs (which I shouldn’t eat anymore) - so if you want to speed that up a bit? I’d appreciate it. XX

—- Go check out BlogHer for more Letters To My Body. —-

My friend Kim, is a breast cancer survivor. She’s walking - 3 days. Sixty miles. She has a team called The Chest Nuts walking with her. Go see her site. If you can help her, or any of the other Chest Nuts make their goal, please do. You know we’re about Saving The Boobies around here.

I’ve finally convinced Mr. Hot to get his ass to his asthma doctor this week. It’s been a tough winter - the cold air has wreaked havoc with his symptoms - no longer under control like they have been since we moved to Ann Arbor from Royal Oak.

When we first moved back to Michigan in ‘92, he didn’t have asthma. He didn’t have it when I met him in West-by-gawd-Virginia. I found out from his sister that he had shown symptoms when he was younger, but had outgrown it. Then, living in Royal Oak and being retired, he explored the city on his bike. Breathing exhaust fumes from the seat of his 10-speed brought it back. With a vengeance. It wasn’t pretty. Convincing him to see a doctor the first time took a lot of nagging, a lot of tears, and a lot of bribing with, um, cookies. Yea, cookies*. Because, y’know, I think that breathing is a kind of important trait in a husband. (Well, that, and the ability to cook, do laundry, make a vodka-limeade, and give me an orgasm backrub.)

Moving to Nowheresville in the middle of CornfieldLand (Yes, Ann Arbor really is a “city”, but where we live? Not so much.) - where there isn’t the pollution that is found in a bigger city - meant that he could go off Advair. And he hardly ever had to hit his inhaler. Country air really is cleaner.

Until this winter. A walk from the house to the mailbox freezes his lungs. From the parking lot to the grocery store. When we go to basketball games, the walk from the car to the arena means waiting until he can warm up before we go up to our seats. It’s been a miserable winter - cold like it hasn’t been in years, snow like when I was little (and I think I liked it then…but now? suck-ass-snow. I hate it.).

I’ve been back to the nagging, the crying, the, um, cookies. “You have to go to the doctor. You haven’t seen her for over a year.” He, of course, insisted that he’s fine, and it’s not an issue, and {hack, wheeze, hack} he can breathe just fine.

But, when he realized that he didn’t have a refill on his prescription inhaler, he relented and made an appointment. When he had to get up at 3 o’clock this morning because he couldn’t breathe and was having a coughing fit, he said he may even go back on Advair if the doctor recommended it.

Since this doctor is a specialist, and he only sees her (nag, nag, bitch, cry) every 6 months, he doesn’t want to look for a doctor in this area - it’s worth going to someone who knows his history, even if she’s 60 miles away. Being the good wife that I am, I offered to take the day off and go with him. I have some time off that I have to take before the end of March, and it’s nice to have company on the drive. But…

…being the shopping whore that I am, I told him that he could drop me off at my old stomping grounds mall so I can shop while he’s actually having his examination.

—- What? I need some new clothes and some new shoes. Is that so wrong? —-

*Yes, I will say orgasm but not blow job. For blow job, I use “cookies”. I don’t know why, so don’t ask.

Dawn’s Showin’ Off Saturday challenge this week is “What makes your house a home?” Here’s my contribution. I could live pretty much anyplace as long as Mr. Hot and Shortman were around me. And these:

Pippin (the tabby) and Daphne (the torti). They’re brother and sister and love to torment Poopy the Puppy.

My second favorite spot to sit and blog (the first being my couch). The cross stitch pictures were part of an internet round robin. Seven other women from around the U.S. and Canada stitched a tulip (on the shelf) or a lily (on the wall). It was my first brush with the amazing sense of community that the web has brought together. These are treasured pieces.

and

Books. I couldn’t live without them. See how the shelfs sag? That would be because these are cheap, put them together yourself bookcases. My dream is to have real honest-to-gawd oak bookcases - floor to ceiling. (Ignore the vacuum cleaner handle - I AM going to actually run that thing today.) Mostly because of this:

My living room after 3 hours of American Idol and Rock Band last night. We started at 7 pm, and next thing I knew, it was after 11. Neither Mr. Hot nor I could speak this morning. I rocked Blondie’s “Heart of Glass”. Spending three solid hours laughing with my husband and teenage son - priceless memories being made.

—- Now, go check out Dawn and get yourself in the running for the next Showin’ off Saturday. —-