moosh in indy.

***this is the post that is going to be known as corngate ’09. this post is for THOSE people. who burn boiling water. who have to call their sisters to find out how to make canned tomato soup. who think frozen waffles are fine dining. true corn lovers know that grilling is the best way to cook corn. But I feel this post is needed, because THOSE people? Should never know corn can be cooked by an open flame. I’m only trying to save the innocent ears.****

It has come to my attention Internets (serious eyes) that the Fourth of July is coming up and a lot of you don’t know how to properly cook corn on the cob.

THIS IS NOT OKAY AMERICA.

(To the rest of the world, bear with me, I’m about to set America straight.)

As a Midwesterner I feel it my duty to know how to prepare corn. Just as it is a Texans duty to know how to prepare brisket or a New Englanders duty to know the proper care and preparation of chowder. After spending a year learning how to choose and prepare corn and a year to practice I feel safe in saying I. HAVE. IT. DOWN.

First? Quit husking your corn at the grocery store. QUIT IT. While you’re at it, DON’T EVEN OPEN IT. Just feel it. It should be heavy for its size and firm. (I know, BUT WHAT ABOUT BUGS? Corn begins losing its tasty tasty sugars as soon as the kernels are exposed to air, so buy a couple of extra ears and deal with the possibility of bugs. In three years? I’ve had maybe three bugged ears and they were all redeemable. It’s called a knife.)

(Also? Don’t buy corn out of season. Part of your carbon footprint involves eating what’s in season where and when it’s in season. If possible keep your eye on the corn bins during peak corn season, when they refill the stock? BEST PICKINGS EVER.)

Okay.

Now you have your corn. While your boiling a huge pot of salted water husk your corn and rinse it off. (I’m not OCD about the silks, you shouldn’t be either.)

As soon as the water is boiling add the corn.

Let the water return to a boil, put a tight fitting lid over the top, remove it from heat (turn it off please, I know there are those people out there) and set a timer for five minutes.

After five minutes take out your first serving, leaving the rest in for up to 10 more minutes.

Butter (real butter please,) salt (kosher sea salt please) and enjoy.

Also this week in honor of America’s Birthday?

The proper way to make pie crust (cherry for us!) and the proper way to make baked beans.

You’re welcome founding fathers. Really.

****
What are you obligated by geographic location to know how to make?

My mom has traveled the world with her camera and said that the Oldfields-Lilly Gardens just outside downtown Indianapolis was one of the most beautiful places she had ever (EVER!) been.
The rain stopped just long enough last week for us to take pictures before I had to throw her back on a plane back to New Mexico. (Seriously, pouring rain until we pulled up, pouring rain as soon as we got back in the car.)

HI HI HI!

So it’s been about two and a half days since my innards were spelunked and I currently feel as though there is a very full puce colored balloon in my tummy that just has to be full of very nasty noxious gut gas. Got a visual on that? Good.

Just imagine the worst gas of your life but not being able to get it out the front or the back.

(Which reminds me. What did the stomach say to the burp? Give up? “I’ll let you out the back if you go quietly.” HA!)

So far the shoulder pain that a lot of you warned me about hasn’t been much of a bother. Of course from the way my last post reads and the way a lot of my tweets have been sounding I’m not sure I’ve felt much of anything over the past 48 hours let alone been coherent enough to comprehend any of it.

So I hurt. A lot. But my spirits are spry as a spring chicken.

Know why?

Because I have an answer! A timeline! HURRAH!

Now if any of you want to fill in the blanks because you’ve had this happen to you as well I’d appreciate it. I’d go out googling it but last time I did that I found out about teratomas and OH MY GOSH my doctor pulled a teratoma out of a girl a few weeks ago that had AN EYELID WITH EYELASHES IN IT.

The plan is to shut down my reproductive parts for six months with some sort of shot. (I got this news from Cody, he said “it sounded like something like, uh, Dem-uh, I don’t remember but it’s a shot.“) Now I won’t get the official MEDICAL definition and description of what’s going to be next until my follow up appointment but I can tell you that I like that where Dr. SallyForth is going with this. To know that for six months I can just live my life, let my little uterus get her freaking act straight and then assault her like a rabbit in heat when all is healed and taken care of. (Did you get a good visual on that too? YOU’RE WELCOME!)

Things I’ve learned while being laid out and gassed up?

Daytime TV stinks.

Simply willing food to appear in front of you does not work.

Many many women have all sorts of nasty things done to their uteri.

AND?

It takes approximately 23 minutes for narcotics to hit my system and make me ten kind of floppy fingered fun.

mmm. breakfast. (and lunch, and ironically dinner too.)

hi hi hi!

I MAAADE IT!

my ugerus was in saaaad sorry shape but is almost all bethter now. neeesdels to say the goood drugcs have not left my ssystem and with binking being exhausign and lifing my head to find backspace nect to impossible typing is kind of abug fat joke.

But i had to say THAANNNK YOUUU to everyone for makeing me giggle and weke[[p dammit weep wih all of your supprot on teh twiters.

i hurt pretty bad. no sense in lying aboruht that. my anetsheisioloigrst was Hot. i wauss supposed to have some spry redhead lady with freckles and instelad i got dashingdocntor mcdashypants. he had sto see me pee in bag while i was all out and stuff. also szince i was om ny period someone else had to take off may grannie pannies. THE Y DIDN’t GIVE hEM ABACK! have yet to see if they arean on ebayy today. BIIDD HGIGH PEPOLE!

BEST NEWSAS EVER!>>??? i got to skop the lasf few days of my period with my cleanout!! OH WOWHICUPS HUUURT!

moosh 2.o is sitill like half a year awya. apparenlty there’s jthings jacked up in there thaft surgfury couldn’t fix.(EDNO MEtreIOSIS LIKE x 10.000! BOO!!)  more on that when i don’t feel like a swallowed a mylar balooomn.

xoxoxo

pazz the drugs pl.sz!

So I feel I’ve already leapt the most awkward hurdle of the next 24 hours.

I’ll just let you know that administering two pills per my ONE VAGINA involved some advanced yoga moves Wii Fit doesn’t even know about and a MacGyver rigged tampon.

*ahem*

My belly is marked, the winning submission was “Please leave cleaner than you found it.” followed quite closely by “I won’t hate you if you take out 10 lbs.”

(spelling on your belly is hard, yo.)

On a more serious note (meaning one that doesn’t involve my vagina or drugs in any direct way) back in February during the Coyote Ugly Bar Dancing Extravaganza Blissdom ’09 I met a little lady with a Suhthin’ drawl named Rachel. Cute as a button I declared that we would be friends immediately. And so we were.

On the closing night of Blissdom, Rachel and I were at a GNO shindig where they gave out some lovely door prizes. When they announced that one of the giveaways was a lavender pearl set from Peachbutt Design Studio I believe my exact words were “SHUT UP.”

Rachel and I bonded over our mutual love of pearls and how fancy they make us feel.

Rachel’s name was picked first for the giveaway.

I watched her walk over and pick out the lovely pearl set.

“Good! I thought. They’re going to a PROPER pearl lover. The only place pearls truly belong.”

Then I watched as she walked towards me and shoved them into my hands.

(Totally awesome picture of both of us by mom-e-centric. But don’t look at us, look at the sentiment! OOH! SENTIMENT!)

The day after I arrived home from Blissdom I had my first official “infertility appointment” with my new doctor.

I wore my new pearls.

I have since worn them to every fertility related appointment since. I rolled them in my fingers during my ultrasound. I held tight do them during my hysterosalpingogram. Today will be no exception. Well, except that I can’t wear jewelry during surgery so my darling Ami will be wearing them for me in the waiting room. Also? I can’t wear makeup. Not even a dusting of powder or a smear of mascara. Boo.

I figure if the pearls started out their life already being payed forward twice after being handmade? There’s got to be something to that.

And you’d better believe I’ll be wearing them the day moosh 2.0 comes spewing forth from my loins.

Thank you for all your virtual hand holding. Britt had a request to see #caseysuterus as a trending topic on twitter today. If that really could happen? It would probably be the most awesome thing ever. (You know, next to shiny clean ovaries and what not.)

xoxo my lovelies.

(Oh, and P.S. to my little kid. Thanks for letting me take your Pooh Bear with me today. And no, they won’t actually tear my tummy open and yes I’ll ask for Hello Kitty band-aids and no, anesthesia is not the same as medistasia (medicine + Cinderella’s wicked stepsister.))

****

Oh! And while I’m off zzzzing why don’t you enter to win a bedtime kit worth over $250!

bai!

NYC Watchdog lost his Puppy Monster two years ago today.

Mike lost his Mooseroni nine weeks ago.

These two little kids made dads out of these two men, and they did a damn good job.

Dawg and Mike?

I love you both.

We all love you.

And we’ll never forget them.

Or you.

Happy (bittersweet) Father’s Day.

My uterine factory reset is fast approaching on Tuesday.

Today I went in for my pre-op appointment with Dr. SallyForth.

The good news? I don’t have to do a bowel cleanse the day before.

The bad news? Everything else besides not having to do a bowel cleanse.

I learned today that my uterus has a sick and twisted sense of humor. You see, my period was supposed to start on Monday (it’s Friday today.) I peed on some sticks throughout the week, nothing much, pretty much the norm around casa de moosh. I didn’t do one this morning because in my head I figured that I’d take one at the doctor’s office it would be positive and we’d all laugh at the irony of the situation.

Well it wasn’t positive.

And my period started (literally) the minute I left Dr. SallyForth’s office.

If only it knew what was going to happen to it on Tuesday.

Touché you filthy little trick playing wench of a uterus. I’ll show you.

I never really googled what was going to be happening to me. Since I’ve never had anything done that comes with a possible side effect of death I figured not googling worst case scenarios was better for everyone involved. However today Dr. SallyForth went over the details of what’s going to happen.

First is the Hysteroscopy. They’re going in the only direct way to my uterus. The same way babies come out. While they’re up in my business they’ll be doing a D&C.

“The dilation and curettage procedure is called a D&C. The D stands for dilation, which means enlarging. Curettage (the C) means scraping. Together, this procedure involves expanding or enlarging the entrance of a woman’s uterus so that a thin, sharp instrument can scrape or suction away the lining of the uterus and take tissue samples.“

NO PART OF THAT SOUNDS AWESOME. Especially since the aforementioned quote is followed by the phrase “D&C is usually a diagnostic procedure and seldom is therapeutic.” When would any part of that be considered THERAPEUTIC?

I’m considering having a zipper installed after the past five years of all this crap.

When they’re all done spelunking in my tenders that’s when they’ll gas up my belly like the Hindenburg and look around on the inside during a laparoscopy. Apparently I’ll get pictures as a souvenir. Silver lining I guess.

Now I put a vote out to you Internets. I need something to write on my belly in Sharpie the day of my procedure. You know, how when you have knee surgery on your left knee they have you write “YES THIS ONE” on your left knee and “NO NOT THIS ONE” on your right knee?

Only mine is way more awesome.

Yesterday marked the date that Cody and I became man and wife. Annoyer and annoyee. Our anniversary.

Neither of us have very good skills when it comes to romance and remembering important dates.

Ah well, at least we’re equally lacking in the area.

Before Cody left in the morning to die slowly in the law library yet again study for the bar he gently shook me awake.

“OOH! He’s going to wish me a happy anniversary before he leaves for his class! ” I thought.

I made a genuine effort (keyword effort) to roll over awake and happy to see my betrothed and welcome his anniversary greetings.

“So, uh, there’s a dead mouse in the laundry room. In the trap. It may even still be alive, but anyway, it’s starting to smell and I’m running late. You’ll have to take care of it today.”

Oh.

Yes. Well.

Marriage.

Eight years later.

There you have it.