It’s true: It’s been three years since I’ve had my tonsils and adenoids out and almost three years since my post (written a week after surgery) titled “Adult Tonsillectomy–Don’t Do It” went live. It remains my number one post week after week to this day. People Google about adult tonsillectomy and they find my post, and I’m glad to be of service! After so long, though, I thought it past time for me to follow up. If you’re thinking about getting it done, have scheduled it, or are recovering, hopefully this post offering hindsight wisdom will help you out.
To not leave you in suspense, I’m going to say yes, I am glad I did it.
The main reasons: I have not had a single bout with strep or any other tonsillitis-type infection since before the surgery. I have also not had sinus or ear infections, either (which I used to get fairly frequently as well). In fact, I rarely get a sore throat, and when I do, it’s caused by thirst or simple dry air and goes away immediately when I drink some water. My snoring is much improved. I haven’t had to take antibiotics since the surgery, and that makes me happy, if only because one day I might really need them and I’d like them to work!
Anyone who’s had the misery of strep throat, especially as an adult, knows that a life of not ever getting it again would be delightful. No missed work over it, no fear of children and others who are sick, no feeling of dread at the first hint of a sore throat. I teach college English and I used to be terrified of the coughing, sneezing 18-year-olds who went to class even though they were contagious and should have been in bed. Now that I think about it, I don’t even get colds the way I used to. I can remember one mild one in March of this year. That’s it. I’m not saying it’s a direct result of having my tonsils out–I do get a flu shot each year and I eat fruits and vegetables–but I wouldn’t be surprised. I mean, those suckers were huge. Huge! Every new doc who peered into my throat would express surprise and ask me why I still had them. (And I would say, “You want ‘em? Take them! Please!”) I’ll bet those tonsils attracted and latched on to every bacterium and virus that floated by.
As I read through my post from three years ago, I was reminded of some pains and details that I’d forgotten. Yes, it did hurt for several weeks (months?) when I’d sneeze, hiccup, yawn, or cough. And the scabs that felt like hairballs were really, really gross. I’m trying to remember how long I had to communicate using a dry erase board (and later a whisper) but I can’t. And for whatever reason, I didn’t lose the 20 lbs. I thought I would–it was closer to five.
But knowing what I know now, I’d still do it again. The long-term benefits of being without those blasted things made the temporary (albeit terrible) pain worth it. My surgery was in July, but winter would have been better (to not be bummed out about missing nice weather). I didn’t have much of a choice, though as I had just been laid off from my job (thanks, COBRA!). Other than the season, though, I think I did it the right way: Without a job, I didn’t have to worry about having to return to work after only having a few days to recover. I had someone to take care of me and, more importantly, the house, errands, and my cats. I felt miserable for a good week and crummy for another week, but was very thankful that I didn’t have to force myself to work, drive anywhere, or really do much of anything. I had books checked out of the library and a lot of DVDs to watch. I’d also gotten a crochet lesson beforehand and was going to work on learning to crochet during that time, but not much reading or crocheting happened–I had a hard time concentrating. I watched a lot of DVDs but I couldn’t watch a lot of my favorites, like The Simpsons, because laughing hurt way too much. I was excited to watch my new Animaniacs DVDs, but even those were too funny. The weeks after a tonsillectomy might be a good time to catch up on The Wire or Southland. (Maybe Rescue Me. Or Burn Notice. You know, any shows that are decidedly not funny.)
Part of feeling crummy, I realize now, was poor sleep–the pain would keep me awake or awaken me, and I’d wake up frequently with a parched mouth and throat. Normally when that happens, taking a big gulp of cold water is the best thing (like when you have a cold and have to breathe through your mouth so you wake up with your mouth and throat all dry) but post surgery, even taking small sips hurts ridiculously. And I had to sleep practically sitting up because I couldn’t breathe lying down. It hadn’t occurred to me beforehand that there would be a lot of swelling. Duh! The swelling was bad, not just because it was uncomfortable but also because it made it hard to get enough air, and I’d often find I was breathing through both my nose and my mouth at the same time. This contributed to having a dry, parched mouth just minutes after I’d managed to fall asleep.
Hunger pangs would wake me up, too, and there was nothing I could do about them except sip some flat 7-up (or Gatorade after the first week) and hope the sugar was enough to trick my body into thinking it was food.
Surgery is not the same as being sick–when I’m sick, I lose my appetite. Not so in the week or two following my tonsillectomy. I was hungry and frustrated. Swallowing anything, including my own saliva, was terribly painful (imagine your worst case of strep times five). Anything too hot or too cold was incredibly painful to eat or drink, so soup was tough and Popsicles were out of the question for more than a week. Jello was perfect because it was cool (not cold) and smooth, and there are vegetarian versions. Applesauce was good, too, although the chunks were a little off-putting. Dairy was bad (and not recommended) for a while because of how it coats and leaves a film, so pudding, yogurt, and milkshakes had to wait a bit. (I needed about 10 or 14 days so that I could take reasonable swallows of water afterward required to wash dairy products down).
And all that stuff I said about pain medicine–oh, yes, that was a big problem. You need food in your stomach or the pain medicine will cause nausea, but eating hurts too much without taking the pain medicine first. (It makes me wonder why I didn’t lose more weight.) I now know not to even bother with the liquid Percocet; it was like pouring rubbing alcohol on a fresh rug burn. Just get pills and anti-nausea meds, I say.
I remember that it’s true that the first two days weren’t as bad as I was expecting, so I thought I’d have an easy recovery, but days three and four were brutal. And man, those headaches! Honestly, though, I forgot about the headaches until rereading the post recently. And I do know that those headaches were not a given–mine were caused by the adenoid removal, and most adults do not have much adenoid tissue. I did, which is why the adenoid removal ameliorated my snoring.
The thing that I didn’t mention in the previous post (but did mention in the comments a couple weeks later), was thrush. I had fur on my tongue. It was as disgusting as it sounds. (Thrush, in case you didn’t know, is a yeast infection of the mouth. It is an imbalance of the normally happy bacteria/yeast ratio caused by a dying off of good bacteria, perhaps from antibiotics, not unlike a vaginal yeast infection). There is a pill that takes care of it called fluconazole (brand name Diflucan). But for some reason, post surgery I was prescribed a thick and creamy oral medicine that I had to swish around and then swallow. The treatment was as bad as the symptom!
And, hey, since I’m talking about thrush (anyone considering a tonsillectomy deserves to know it’s a possibility) I may as well add that when I would get sinus or ear infections or strep all the time, the antibiotics I took caused yeast infections. It was to the point where my otolaryngologist would prescribe fluconazole whenever he prescribed an antibiotic. And then it was to the point where I didn’t have to go in; I could just call when I had strep and ask for my usual, antibiotic and fluconazole, which I would fill at the same time but not take the fluconazole until after the round of antibiotics. (Never having a yeast infection again, knock on wood, has made getting my tonsils out worthwhile by itself, truth be told. Ladies, am I right?)
For well over a month after surgery, maybe even longer because I was scared, I avoided spicy things and sharp foods, like chips. There was no pizza for a long time, and not much remotely delicious or interesting. That was okay though because for a month or more, foods didn’t taste right, as if my taste buds only registered some of the flavors (perhaps that was because of the thrush). All beer tasted like IPA and vegetables tasted like dirt. But I was lucky–other people I’ve talked to (including one woman who commented on my first post who said, “Tonsillectomy as an adult is like the Chuck Norris of surgeries”) have had complications I avoided like dehydration (it’s hard, but you have to sip water constantly after surgery) or even dangerous bleeding from the scabs coming off too soon. Some people have to be hospitalized for bleeding, dehydration, and/or to control vomiting. (Try to be sent home with a prescription for an anti-nausea drug, like Zofran, which dissolves on the tongue. It helped me control the nausea caused by the pain medicine).
In short: Tonsillectomy hurts. Hurts bad. Several people commented on my blog that tonsillectomy was the worst surgery they’ve endured, beating out C-section and breast reduction. That should tell you it powerful sucks.
But not having tonsils is wonderful. After three years tonsil-free, I’m so glad I did it.
1. No strep throat (ever again? dare to dream!)
2. No sinus or ear infections
3. No antibiotics
4. No yeast infections
5. Better sleep, less snoring
6. Less missed work
7. Fewer visits to the doctor’s office
8. Less fear of illness/sick people
9. Good story to tell at parties
10. A more fun life — I can make future plans without worrying or automatically assuming that I’d have strep or something and the plans would be wrecked.
My friend Paul had this idea for Mokena Patch, a website he edits, collecting a list of resolutions to apply to other people. Along with demanding others learn the difference between reply and reply all, he says this:
You will stop going on about shows I “have to see.” Unless a sniper will kill a puppy a day until I catch up on critically acclaimed cable dramas, I think I can continue not watching Dexter.
I approve of his list (although he should really be watching Breaking Bad and I have told him as such), but I’ve got some more of my own.
1. Stop saying “It is what it is.” That phrase is circular, annoying, and completely meaningless. It’s annoying as an invisible eyelash in the eye or a gumsmacker behind you during a test.
2. Learn the difference between “less” and “fewer.” The word “less” is not always the opposite of the word “more.” It’s not completely your fault that you don’t know the damn difference because ad copywriters, for everything from Gardasil to Mercedes, keep insisting on using “less” for count nouns, but that’s wrong. They’re doing us all a disservice by using improper grammar.
3. Be nicer on comment threads. Your rudeness under the cloak of anonymity is often upsetting to people on the other end, and it’s also carrying over into other parts of life. Reel it in and use some respect. (This is one of my own resolutions, too, by the way).
4. Stop saying The Simpsons should be canceled, that it used to be better, or whatever mean thing you say about it. This one is going to be contentious, but hear me out.
First off, I don’t go around saying that I think your favorite show should be canceled. It’s mean-spirited and moot. If I don’t like something, I mostly just turn the channel or leave the room. Its existence doesn’t bother me because no one is making me watch said shows just like no one is making you watch The Simpsons.
Also, some of my friends work on The Simpsons, so when you say that, it’s actually hurtful to me because you’re saying that people I care about should lose their jobs.
Next, TV, like all art, is subjective. I have no interest in Harry Potter, but I totally get that the books and movies are terrific. I have a hard time with the violence in Tarantino films so I avoid them (except Pulp Fiction, of course), but I know he is phenomenal. Archer does nothing for me. Nothing. I thought Inception completely sucked. Now, I am positive that these are all my issue, my shortcoming. Thus, I don’t insult others who like these things.
Are many of my favorite Simpsons episodes from the ’90s? Why, sure. But many of them are more recent, too. And how do I know that my affection for certain episodes isn’t because of the emotions, memories, and events surrounding them? I won’t know until I’m gray and post-menopausal.
Finally, when you say mean things about The Simpsons, I know you’re full of crap. How do I know? Well, because if you’re not watching the show, then you don’t know how good it is and therefore, you’re full of crap and should be quiet. If you are watching it, you’re enjoying it (why else would you watch it?) and therefore, you are simply saying you don’t like it to sound cool, which also makes you full of crap.
It became cool for people to say they didn’t like The Simpsons sometime around 1994 because when something becomes widely popular, some early fans reject it. Happens all the time. It happened with the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Swatches, tapas, Juno, and it might even happen to you.
5. Get off your phone when you’re doing something else. No matter how good you think you are, you actually suck as a driver when you’re on the phone. Also, you’re being disrespectful to your teachers, classmates, the people in line with you at the post office, your dinner companions, and the cashiers at Target when you’re on the phone. Being on the phone constantly doesn’t make you seem important; it just makes you seem douchey.
6. Stop forwarding that crap to me. I don’t want it. I’m gonna ask you now to stop forwarding me that crap.
Alrighty then, friends! That’s my list! What resolutions would you like others to follow in 2012?
There has been much hubbub regarding the record-breaking gun sales on Black Friday this year. People are not sure why. From USA Today:
Deputy Assistant FBI Director Jerry Pender said the checks, required by federal law, surged to 129,166 during the day, far surpassing the previous high of 97,848 on Black Friday of 2008.
The actual number of guns sold that day is probably markedly higher than the background checks; that number doesn’t allow for multiple guns purchased by a single buyer, for example. Some gun industry folk said the surge was due to first-time gun buyers wanting guns for protection and a growing number of women who are being drawn to sport shooting and hunting (perhaps it’s because Sarah Palin makes it look so damn sexy).
Some economic analysts think that not too much should be made out of the statistics because outdoorsy sporting goods stores that sell guns, like Cabelas, simply had really good deals on Black Friday that drew people in.
I’ve read their articles; I’ve heard their news reports. They’re missing the obvious. It’s all about the Second Amendment, one of our few Constitutional rights not currently threatened. Larry Keane, a spokesman for the National Shooting Sports Foundation, said, “I think there also is a burgeoning awakening of the American public that they do have a constitutional right to own guns.”
Hmm, not quite.
A “burgeoning awakening that we have the right to own guns,” no, that is just silly. We know all about our right to bear arms. Few of us go a day or two without hearing someone yammering on about the Second Amendment, whether it’s our redneck cousin, a friend on Facebook talking about how it’s easier now to legally carry a concealed weapon in Wisconsin than it is to vote, or Homer Simpson lamenting the waiting period (“but I’m angry now!”) It’s not a “burgeoning awakening that we have the right to own guns,” it a burgeoning realization that those who want to exercise our Constitutional rights best do it now. Since many other Amendments are no longer respected, people fear that the Second Amendment might also be bludgeoned to death, too. (No, they needn’t fear. There’s plenty of money and power protecting the Second Amendment. It ain’t going anywhere).
Still, it’s no wonder why the gun nuts and logical, sane people alike are getting nervous. We’re watching the Constitution be destroyed before our eyes. Bush used fear of terrorism to destroy our Fourth Amendment rights. Next, could the military soon be legally authorized to detain Americans with no trial?
. . . the bill the Senate is working on this week contains a provision that would authorize the U.S. military to indefinitely detain, without charge or trial, anyone they consider to be engaged in hostilities against the United States.
I have faith that the President would veto anything as egregious as this, but who knows, the Republicans could tack it on to the middle class tax cut extension. And then what?
We’ve been watching the Sixth Amendment fall apart since, oh, about 2001. Most of us are hoping (and praying, if we’re so inclined) that we don’t get accidentally mixed up in something that makes us look suspicious.
Many states are requiring unprecedented documentation for voting, marginalizing the elderly and minorities (adios, 19th and 15th Amendments!) Eight states have strict ID laws (Not surprisingly, Walker recently passed one in Wisconsin. Texas, we expect nothing less from you. But Kansas and Indiana, seriously, get over yourselves.) The Constitution does prohibit such actions; it even states in multiple places: “The right of citizens of the United States to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State.” But yet, states continue to pass crazy voter ID laws, obviously not to prevent voter fraud but to suppress the vote. (I want to go to law school just to learn how this could possibly happen).
And now, where on Earth is the First Amendment? People across the country are exercising their right to peaceably assemble, except that unless we’re with the Tea Party, it’s clear that Americans are simply not allowed to do that stuff anymore. Protestors are beaten with batons, their hair is yanked, students are pepper-sprayed, and anyone assembling might be abused and arrested. Police are tearing down Occupy camps across the country. People’s property is destroyed and referred to as “trash left behind by protestors.” Human beings are suffering painful chemical burns and nerve damage in their hands from too-tight zip cuffs. A must-read article about the LA Occupy arrests by the LAPD is by Patrick Meighan, a writer for Family Guy; in it, he writes about the 25 hours he spent in police custody for a misdemeanor charge for sitting in a park after the police said not to.
I was put on a paddywagon with other nonviolent protestors and taken to a parking garage in Parker Center. They forced us to kneel on the hard pavement of that parking garage for seven straight hours with our hands still tightly zipcuffed behind our backs. Some began to pass out. One man rolled to the ground and vomited for a long, long time before falling unconscious. The LAPD officers watched and did nothing.
Frankly, I have never had any desire to own a gun. I don’t want one in my house. I grew up in a house with lots of guns and I never much cared for it. I’ve shot guns: I’ve done some damage to clay pigeons and clumps of dirt in the field. I grew up in the country and have family members in the NRA. I used to fill shotgun shells in our basement. I know what you’re wondering: Yes, I have been shot. (I still have a dent on my ass from my sole gun-related injury, my brother’s bebe gun). But I personally think the Second Amendment was written for a different time with different fears, firearms, and social issues, and thus is irrelevant in this day and age. I’ve had the impression that gun nuts cling to the Second Amendment because they’re unsatisfied with other aspects of their lives. What better way to feel better about getting screwed over by your boss than to take it out on the federal government? Instead of channeling your rage appropriately, you get to imagine that the government is trying to take your guns away, then you get an excuse to buy more guns, the economy improves. Win, win, win!
I think voting, free speech, assembly, and privacy are exponentially more important than the right to keep a gun in my house (instead of just locking it in an armory when I’m done hunting). I can see why England puts up with such strict gun laws (a population of 51 million touts 39 deaths from gun-related crimes in 2008? Sign me up!)
But shoot, even though I like gun laws, I’m considering getting a gun myself. It might soon be one of few Constitutional rights; I may as well make the best of it.
Last week on The Simpsons, Marge and Lisa bonded over some brownie sundaes and sad horse movies, so I thought, hey, what a fun idea for a contest. The episode, “Love is a Many Strangled Thing” is available for viewing on Hulu– it was a good one, including a controversial Precious parody and guest stars Paul Rudd and Kareem Abdul-Jabaar. In fact, I was so annoyed by people ragging on the Precious parody that I wrote a piece for Splitsider about it.
Surely, by now you know that my best friend Karma and I co-wrote a book on teaching with The Simpsons called The Simpsons in the Classroom: Embiggening the Learning Experience with the Wisdom of Springfield; Karma and I have the contest rules and the clip you need to see in order to enter on our book’s website.
A few weeks ago, my friend Dave posted on Facebook that he was looking for someone to accompany him on a road trip from New York to Tallahassee to research his next book and defend his dissertation at FSU (where we met). He was delighted that I came forward. Turns out, I was delighted as well! It was impulsive, even by my standards– I had less than a week’s notice and was willing to be away from my home, kitties, TV, and bed (some of my favorite things) for three weeks.
You might recall that in October, my friend Vanessa sent me some Halloween slippers and for some reason, there was a spoon and a fork in the box and Vanessa has no idea how the silverware got in the box. So I decided a fun thing to do would be to bring these mystery silverware with me to eat various foods in various cities.
First stop: Denny’s in Newark, Delaware. I’d never been to Delaware, and Dave’s philosophy is that you haven’t been to a city unless you’ve had a meal there.
Our next stop was two fantastic days in Philadelphia. For some reason, probably because I mostly ate soft pretzels there, I have no pictures of me eating food in Philadelphia.
Next meal: Moroccan food. I ordered the vegetarian platter at Souk in Washington, D.C. I ate enough garlic that night to keep vampires away for the rest of the trip.
The next day, Dave and I visited the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception, also in Washington, D.C. We were charmed by the cafeteria, which had typical school food and tables filled with giggling nuns. Below, I am enjoying some delicious macaroni -n- cheese.
Hmm, after D.C., Dave and I went to Chapel Hill, North Carolina, where we stayed with our friend Chris. I was certain I had a picture of me enjoying some lovely Thai in Chapel Hill, but apparently it didn’t upload, so here’s a skip forward to Asheville, North Carolina, where I had chilequiles with tinga at Neo Cantina.
After Asheville, we hit the Southern Fried Burlesque Festival in Atlanta, but the only food I ate there was from a gas station (sandwich, Bugles, and a Newcastle), so I have no fork photo there. We went to Tallahassee next, where I stayed with my former professor and mom substitute, Bonnie. She made us a delightful dinner of roast chicken and green beans:
Tallahassee was the major stop for the trip; my friend Dave defended his PhD dissertation. We turned around and headed back up north. Our next stop was Jacksonville where we spent two nights with our friends Tonia and Lenny. Then we spent an afternoon in Savannah, one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen (especially in March as the wisteria was blooming, along with the dogwoods, azaleas, cherries, and tons of other things I don’t know the names of).
At a restaurant in Savannah, The Distillery, Dave was compelled to order the deep fried chocolate Moon Pie, which I tasted. It was Not Good.
We drove pretty much straight back to New York. Dave showed me his favorite haunts in New York, including a Ukranian restaurant that taught Dave to like borscht. I am not fond of beets, but I tasted the borscht because I hated Brussels sprouts until just a few years ago. Tastes change as we get older, so I thought, what the heck? I’ll try the borscht.
As it turns out, I didn’t like the borscht, but it was really pretty. I did enjoy the mini lemon Bundt cake.
Next up: I figure out the silverware’s next adventure. Should I send them back to Vanessa? Should I send them to Carrie? She lives in Boston and the silverware haven’t been there, to my knowledge.
I’m seeing on Twitter and elsewhere that The Dream Act should not have passed because it would be “rewarding illegal behavior.”
Actually, that couldn’t be further from the truth. The beneficiaries of The Dream Act would have been first and foremost the country of the United States, and secondarily the up to 65,000 children for whom the United States is largely the only home they’d ever known. The Dream Act would have offered the chance for thousands of children to become what they always considered themselves to be already: Americans.
It was a not a free path to citizenship. The two designers of the Act, Dick Durbin (D, Illinois) and Orin Hatch (R, Utah) wrote it to benefit the country as well- it required either a college degree or two years of military service. As a fair-minded person, I don’t understand the need for hoops– if someone was brought to the United States as a child, it was clearly against their will and they had had no desire to be lawbreakers. Why not offer them citizenship free and clear?
But I can understand why not everyone would have such a charitable attitude. Those of us who were born in the United States often have a selfish, privileged, superior attitude about our Americanness. I don’t get it, but I can try to accept it.
But what I really don’t understand is why even the most conservative Republican would be against The Dream Act. The qualifiers show that only “desirable” child immigrants would eventually be naturalized: those who are capable and driven enough to complete a college degree and/or those who are dedicated enough to this country to promise at least two years of their lives to serving it in the military. I think we all know someone who’s gotten a green card by entering a fake marriage with an American. I think we all know someone who has a skill that made it easier for them to live and work in the United States. Why privilege those people over children who were raised as Americans? I’m talking about children who are educated here, children who root for the Bears and who pledge allegiance to their flag every Monday morning at school with as much sincerity as the children who recite those words next to them. The only difference is that they were born a couple dozen or a couple hundred miles away.
It all goes back to this country’s deep-seeded, and confusing as hell, hatred of the newest flock of immigrants. The Irish, the Italians, the Asians, and, of course, the Mexicans. Sometimes I want to shake every single person in this country of immigrant stock and say “WTF is wrong with you?”
My family’s immigration story, like many white families’, is seen as heroic and gutsy. My great-great grandfather left Norway to homestead in North Dakota after his brother squandered the family’s inheritance on the mid 1880s Oslo version of coke and whores. How ballsy! How heroic!
But yet, the busboy at Red Lobster who is working there and in construction to send money home to his wife in Mexico to raise his two children AND sends money home to his mother, plus pays taxes and FICA, pays for rent and utilities in Milwaukee, plus buys groceries, gasoline, clothing, and everything else regular people buy to live. (This is a real person I worked with at Red Lobster, by the way, not a rhetorical example).
When it came time for his daughter’s quinceanera, this man saved for years. Not just for her gift, not just for the party– mainly, he saved to cover the high cost of coyotes. And why do coyotes have such a lucrative business? Because politically, it looks good to make it hard for people to get in this country, but once they’re in, finding work is easy because there’s so much of it. And there’s so much of it because undocumented immigrants are willing to earn much less than legal counterparts and they don’t fight for holiday pay.
He flew down to Mexico for the party knowing he’d have to arrange a dangerous and expensive trip to come back. It cost him $3,500 to get back to the U.S., the first half he paid the coyotes when he left, and the second half his wife paid the coyotes when he called safely from Texas. And instead of saying “How ballsy! How heroic!” he is called a criminal when he’s working his ass off to give the people he loves a better life. He just had the bad luck to be born in a corrupt, clusterfuck of a country like Mexico.
All of us, Republican or Democrat, political or indifferent, sexy or not, all have a part in our country’s dependence on immigrant labor and how immigrants are treated. Every day, we eat food that was picked or processed by undocumented immigrants. Maybe we ride in a cab driven by one. Perhaps the food in the restaurant we ate in last night was cooked by an undocumented immigrant. I would be willing to bet the dishes were cleaned by one!
Those of us who benefit from undocumented immigrants but work to impair their rights, freedom, and safety are hypocrites. The least we could have done was treated their children a little more fairly.
We are assholes.
This week, my friend Vanessa in Davis, California sent me a package. Joe warned me that something might be broken inside the box, because it sounded like “some silverware clanking together” in the box. Inside was a Halloween card, a pair of adorable slippers with skeletons on them, and, yes, a fork and spoon.
I told her via Facebook that I loved my surprise Halloween gift and that the slippers were great, but that I was a bit confused by the rest. “What other stuff?” Vanessa asked, “All that should be there are the slippers and a card.” So I told her that, well, there was a fork and spoon in the box as well. She suggested that she was losing her mind, and shot a pic of her silverware. The silverware I received does not match; it’s not hers.
Could someone at the post office be playing a fun little prank? Could Vanessa actually be crazy?
We may never know the origin of the silverware, who sent it to me and why, but Vanessa and I have decided that we will send the silverware on adventures, having the utensils feed various people interesting foods in interesting cities. And then hopefully, one day, they will find their way (back?) to Vanessa.
I plan to take the silverware to a place or two in Chicago and/or Milwaukee, post some pictures here, and then I’m going to ship it off. Where? To whom? I don’t know! But I’ll take some suggestions.
Some people choose gnomes or monkeys, but the silverware has chosen me.
No trip to Minneapolis this year—crazy weather prevented a big drive anywhere. Luckily, I had an invite to a friend’s for his Christmas eve party which was a delight of chatting, shrimp cocktail, unseasonal rain, red wine, and a chocolate fondue. Today (Christmas Day) was invited to other friends’ place for dinner (they didn’t feel comfortable driving to Minneapolis either, so we were going to be together for orphan Christmas in Milwaukee together), but Jon is battling some food poisoning, so instead, it’s Thai food and Lost at home! Hopefully Jon will feel better and Christmas dinner will happen tomorrow night.
Merry Christmas and happy 2010, friends and readers!