I need to put that where?

Today I'm venturing away from my usual family friendly babble. Read no further if the subject of ovaries makes you cringe. But you might want to read anyway. Believe me, I can't make this stuff up.

I went for a pelvic ultrasound this morning. And yes, it was as much fun as it sounds. But I digress. Turns out I'm missing an ovary. It used to be there. But today it didn't show up for our appointment. No cancellation notice. No vacation request. No Dear John letter. Just AWOL.

Hello? National Hotline for Missing Ovaries? I need to report an ovary-knapping.

Where does an ovary go when it gets tired of hanging out with its friends uterus and fallopian tube? Does it hook up with the bladder hoping to score a trip to the outside? Frankly, it's like being blindsided by a high school breakup. I would have changed if only I'd known it was unhappy.

I have no idea what the implications of being down an ovary are. I hope the treatment regime includes Klondike bars and a margarita or two. Stay tuned.

Happy New Year

I always admire holiday photos with the whole family lined up and smiling at the camera. You won't be seeing one of those from the Hoop-lah house. We're lucky to have gotten this far. Wishing you all the best in the New Year.

Santa's other reindeer

Please, please . . . could someone drop a cookie?

Naughty or nice?

There is no doubt which list these angels are on.

This angel? Well, Santa thinks he's been pretty nice, too.

I almost forgot . . .

Your Christmas card is in the mail. OK, not really. I just didn't get them done this year. Sorry.

New Year's Resolution #1: Get my act together.

Random Christmas musings

Every time I turn on the radio in the van Karen Carpenter is singing a Christmas song. The same song day in and day out. It totally brings me down. I want my Christmas music fun and joyful and lively. Not sounding like my dog just died. Maybe she recorded this ditty at a tough time in her life. But today I found myself telling her to shut up, like she was in the backseat getting ready for the road trip to the mall. Chipmunks anyone?

I found those missing Christmas presents in the coat closet. I'm not really sure why I put them there because they weren't hidden from anyone except me. I have to admit being relieved. I was beginning to question whether I had actually bought them. Insanity is usually a sign of something, I'm just not quite sure what.

Tomorrow marks the start of 11 days of family togetherness. Once Christmas is over, it is my least favorite time of the year. I might be the only one who will admit it, but being together with the family all the time is really not ideal. In fact, the faster everyone gets back to the routine the happier I'll be. Next year I will be encouraging Big Dog to take his vacation early and often so we can avoid this end of year backlog. And now that my closet is clear I can lock the kids in there. And no, you can't steal my idea.

Calling 911, vol. 2

Grandma and Grandpa, stop reading now. The kids want to tell you this story on Friday and I don't want to spoil their fun.

Everyone else, I called 911 last night. Really. And it had nothing to do with too tight underware.

Carly and I were sitting here minding our own business when the smoke detectors went off around 9 p.m.. Lest you think I'm a drama queen, they have gone off before. Sometimes when my cooking gets a little "flavorful", sometimes when the battery gets low. But this time they went OFF. As in not stopping.

I took a quick look around, then sent Carly outside. Another look and still nothing. But those detectors were screaming. The next step was corralling the animals. All it took was a "car ride" for CC to head straight into the van. Mike was another story. Totally freaked out. Which freaked Carly out because she kept sticking her head in the door to see what was going on. I finally caught him and threw him and Carly into the van. Got them parked out front and went back inside.

So here's where I have to note that the experts always say go outside and call 911 . . . BUT there is something compelling that forces you to go inside and look for the problem. Because there has to be a problem somewhere.

At some point I called Big Dog and now he was inside too, looking around. And we're 20, then 30, then 40 minutes into this. And those detectors are still screaming. And we're still running around like crazy people looking for the problem.

I finally convinced him that we needed to call 911. It was late, it was cold, and this whole thing was a little surreal.

"911. What is your emergency?" Who knew they actually answer the phone that way?

And then, about five minutes later, the detectors stopped. They just STOPPED, like it was break time at the post office. It was about that time that the fire truck and the EMT rolled up. And, of course, by now the neighbors have noticed that something is going on.

The long story short is that everything was OK, but we need to replace all of our smoke detectors because, like most things these days, they're not made to last. Geez, that sounded just like my mom.

But tonight I am grateful that it wasn't serious and that our community has the first responders that it does. And hopefully I'll sleep a little better tonight.