Bragging About Me

This week’s Monday Listicles topic is “10 Things You Are Proud Of.” So, if you will, allow me to share with you some things I have done:

1) On my first camping trip as a Girl Scout, I lit an a-frame fire with a single match.

2) Thanks to Girl Scouts, in grad school I was able to get wet wood to burn using matches and candles, in contrast to the lighter fluid the guys thought would do the trick.

3) In high school, I once created a school spirit banner so violent it grossed out the football team.

4) When Mr. Sandwich cut off the tip of his finger, I found the piece on his garage workbench . . .

5) And surprised the ER doctor with how well I packaged it for transit.

6) I can watch the needle when I get a shot or donate blood. Speaking of which . . .

7) I donate blood.

8) I have competed in–and finished–three sprint triathlons.

9) I’m a really good writer and editor.

10) I make great baked macaroni and cheese.

Bonus #11: I was a returning Jeopardy! champion.

(Side note: As I look back, there seems to be a decent amount of overlap with this list from December, but honestly I could use my own pat on the back at this point in my life.)


Photo by Nick J Webb, via Flickr. Creative Commons.

How Was Your Weekend?

Ours started a day early, kind of. On Friday, Baguette’s cast came off (huzzah!). What was her response to this development?

Sock all gone. I got a foot!

At the moment she walks with that foot turned out, and she still has a bit of a peg-leg pirate walk, but she’s rapidly getting back to her normal gait–and activity.

Since she’s Baguette, that activity includes not sleeping. We were up at midnight, driving around Los Angeles and environs at midnight. (You think I’m kidding? I’m not. We’re talking at least 20 miles of driving, and not all of it in town.)

Since we’re the Sandwiches, Saturday did not mean sleeping in early. Quite the opposite: we got up at 3:30, because Mr. Sandwich was entered in the Nautica Malibu Triathlon. He did quite well, finishing in the top 1/3 of his age division, and Baguette got to spend the morning on the beach. Let me tell you, this is one fearless toddler. And that means that when you’re her parent, and she won’t stop rushing toward the waves, you are definitely not fearless.

An early morning and extensive beach time did not mean that she had a good nap. No, she slept for about 30 minutes and then was awake for the entire afternoon.

Awake and tantrum-y.

But eventually even her strength of will could not overcome her exhaustion, and at 6:30 p.m. (6:30!)she passed out on my lap. We carefully moved her into the bed and settled in for a night of streaming video. That’s right, it was Date Night, Sandwich Edition. What did we watch? Captain America, of course (Avengers not being available yet, and both of us feeling that Thor would be ruined–ruined, I tell you!–by the presence of Natalie Portman). Now, Cap has never been my favorite superhero, and I had some issues with the movie–but it was fun, and we really enjoyed the chance to curl up on the couch and watch something of our own choosing while endlessly petting the dog’s stomach (Wicket is indifferent to TV as long as she is getting petted).

We made it to bed at about 11, which meant that when Baguette woke up at 3:30, I really, really hoped we’d be able to get her back to sleep. We couldn’t. But that’s okay, because we would have been getting up too soon anyhow: shortly after 5, I left for the ER, where it was determined that yes, I had another kidney stone.

Some Dilaudid and several hours of fitful sleep later, Mr. Sandwich and Baguette arrived to pick me up. We went out for breakfast and picked up some groceries, and then went home so that Baguette and I could nap. Which we both did, successfully. Our evening was low-key, and we made it to bed at about 9. Everyone slept through the night, and Baguette woke up on her own at 6, which (combined with the night before) tells me that, barring teething or broken legs, her tendency is to sleep for 9 hours at night.

Meanwhile, I’m still tired. You?

Captain America Shield

Photo by abuckingham, via Flickr.

If You’re Squeamish, Stop Reading Now

So I’m sitting on the couch while Mr. Sandwich and one of his friends are working in the garage. All of a sudden, Mr. Sandwich walks in briskly and says, “We’re going to the emergency room.”

I follow him into the bathroom to learn what’s going on, where he shows me that his left index finger is now missing a chunk of flesh.

What? I warned you.

While he ran water over his finger, I handed him a washcloth and went into the garage to find the piece of his fingertip. There it was, on the workbench. I put it in a baggie, which I wrapped in paper towels and then put in a bag of ice (you want to keep it cold, but not wet or directly on the ice).

That’s when we realized that we had no idea where the nearest ER might be. Fortunately, the 911 operator was able to give me the address and cross street, and away we went. The friend was kind enough to lock up the garage on our behalf.

After an X-ray, some lidocaine, and a lot of forms, the doctor sewed the finger back together. Apparently there’s only about a 25% chance it will heal properly, and there are going to be a number of visits to a specialist to monitor it.

But, hey, at least now we know how to get to that hospital. And guess who plans to wear gloves during future projects!