I remember the first time I saw the movie “Superman” with Christopher Reeves. I sat at the drive-in movie and watched Superman leap in the air, one arm raised high, and one leg bent at the knee.
“Silly Superman! That’s not how you do it!” I scolded.
“Whaddya mean, Jayne? Heh-heh, like you’ve ever flown before” retorted Chris.
“Of course I’ve flown!!! In my dreams, dummy! It’s simple: ya’ take three steps forward, one step back, and jump!”
“Sweeeeetttt. Dude, whatever you’re smoking, pass it to me.”
“Chris, are you telling me you’ve never flown in your dreams?”
“That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”
I grew up thinking that everybody flew in their dreams. I mean, everybody in my family flew in their dreams. I had my clever three-two-jump, as opposed to a one-two step, method. My baby brother, Jason, flew by accident. He said he would dream that he was just walking along, maybe trip or lose his balance, and as he would try to catch himself, he would find himself airborne. He would then “swim” through the air. We had all lost hope that sister Julie would ever fly – but it finally happened when she was in college. Hey, what can I say? She was a late bloomer in most of the things she did in life….hell, she didn’t talk a all until she was almost three!
But my sister Joanne had the best flying stuff. See, Jo could fly in outerspace. Jo flew to other planets rescuing people and fighting evil. Jo was a hero. I remember sitting at the dinner table one evening discussing all of our flying dreams:
Jayne: So Jo, you can fly in outer space?
Jo: Yep.
Jeff: How do you breathe?
Jo: Don’t need to.
John: How come? Do your lungs change or something?
Jo: Don’t know. Just don’t need to breathe, that’s all.
Jayne: And you’re a hero?
Julie: That sounds silly: Jo the hero.
Jo: That’s not my name in my dreams.
John: Ya’ mean you got a different name in your dreams?
Jo: Yep.
Jayne: Well, what is it?
Jo. Fighter JoJo, Intergalactic Space Warrior.
I kid you not – this was sometime around the early/mid 70’s, and my kidsister is known to other galaxies as an Intergalactic Space Warrior. Fighter Jojo, no less. I was jealous. I wanted a hero name. I still want a hero name! I mean, Airplane Jayne is a cool nickname – the coolest! But a hero name…..
And so today – EUREKA! The Internet Gods smiled upon me – and led me to the
Super Action Hero Name Generator. So, in my next action hero novel that I will write, I shall be known as either Flame Gilder or Wind Pirate
WHO ARE YOU?
Saturday, August 20, 2005
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Ta-Dah!!
Okay, sweetie darlings.....I went to the Doctor (the nice, but not so cute one) this morning. He told me that my lump was just-a-lump-and-not-the-"C"-thing. So woo-hoo!
And he told me he could tell by looking down my throat that I had been a very good....and very quiet girl.....
Please stop laughing....it's still not funny!
And he told me that I could start talking a little bit. But I fear that may be like an alcoholic having a little glass of wine. But I am trying to not talk too much......
My love and thanks to ya'll (even those of you who relished telling me, "shaddup!") for all the good thoughts, vibes and prayers.
And he told me he could tell by looking down my throat that I had been a very good....and very quiet girl.....
Please stop laughing....it's still not funny!
And he told me that I could start talking a little bit. But I fear that may be like an alcoholic having a little glass of wine. But I am trying to not talk too much......
My love and thanks to ya'll (even those of you who relished telling me, "shaddup!") for all the good thoughts, vibes and prayers.
Sunday, August 14, 2005
Driving through Life
"Most of the conflicts in the world have been perpetuated on the delusion that God needs help."
Lecram made the above statement in a recent post, and posed the following question:
How would I craft that?
Well, I would set the scene in a car! It is, after all, where we American's spend most of our time. Here's how the dialogue would go:
“Ya know, it’s faster if you take the freeway.”
“Sometimes fast isn’t the only factor. Sometimes, my son—“
“Hey! You’re driving on the shoulder! What’s wrong—Wow! Did ya’ see that car cross the middle line?! Geez we could’ve been hurt. So,dude, whatd’ya’ say yer name was?
“ My name? Son, have you forgotten my name so soon? My name is—“
“Hey! Whatza matter wit’ ya’ now! Quit driving in the middle of the ro--. Holy shit! I didn’t see that car stalled on the side of the road. Sorry….what were we talking about? (pause) Oh yeah! Dude! I ‘preciate the ride and all, but how far are ya’ going?”
“Son, I can take you as far as you are going. All I ask is that you let me drive.”
“That’s cool, man. I’ll let ya’ drive. I ‘m a cool passenger, dude--err–sorry, what’s your name, again?”
“Son – my name is—“
“Dude! Why’re ya’ stopping? We’re on the freeway! Ya need to move! (pause) Dude! (pause) Man!”
“Son….you must trust me—“
“Dude, I ain’t yer son, and why should I trus--. Sonofabitch! Didya see that! Holyshit! That truck just jackknifed in front of us! Dude, you must have good eyes to have seen that coming. Sorry I yelled at you ‘bout stopping, dude. –Whatdya say your name is?”
Lecram made the above statement in a recent post, and posed the following question:
How would I craft that?
Well, I would set the scene in a car! It is, after all, where we American's spend most of our time. Here's how the dialogue would go:
“Ya know, it’s faster if you take the freeway.”
“Sometimes fast isn’t the only factor. Sometimes, my son—“
“Hey! You’re driving on the shoulder! What’s wrong—Wow! Did ya’ see that car cross the middle line?! Geez we could’ve been hurt. So,dude, whatd’ya’ say yer name was?
“ My name? Son, have you forgotten my name so soon? My name is—“
“Hey! Whatza matter wit’ ya’ now! Quit driving in the middle of the ro--. Holy shit! I didn’t see that car stalled on the side of the road. Sorry….what were we talking about? (pause) Oh yeah! Dude! I ‘preciate the ride and all, but how far are ya’ going?”
“Son, I can take you as far as you are going. All I ask is that you let me drive.”
“That’s cool, man. I’ll let ya’ drive. I ‘m a cool passenger, dude--err–sorry, what’s your name, again?”
“Son – my name is—“
“Dude! Why’re ya’ stopping? We’re on the freeway! Ya need to move! (pause) Dude! (pause) Man!”
“Son….you must trust me—“
“Dude, I ain’t yer son, and why should I trus--. Sonofabitch! Didya see that! Holyshit! That truck just jackknifed in front of us! Dude, you must have good eyes to have seen that coming. Sorry I yelled at you ‘bout stopping, dude. –Whatdya say your name is?”
Friday, August 12, 2005
What if....?
A recent post by Lecram asked for that one moment you would want to remain in for all eternity. I pondered that for days: settling on one moment Thursday, only to discard and replace it with another on Friday, and then onto a different one on Saturday. And this is supposed to be a good thing? To last for eternity? Geez, almost seems like Hell to have to select only one.
So of course, since my (current) philosophy is “rules, schmules, we don’t need no stinking rules!” I decided, “What the heck. How about writing about a moment in your life that only in hindsight, do you realize was a crossroads?” You know, those seemingly (at the time) inconsequential moments that you look back on and say, “Hey! What if I had done ‘x’ instead of ‘y’?” What if I had stayed in Nebraska? What if I didn’t start skydiving? What if? One of my favorite whatifs, is Dominic.
Ah…..Dominic. Dom was Italian, and spoke little English. He came out to the drop zone one Saturday morning with (I think) his cousin. He wanted to, “how-a you say? I-a, wan to-a shjump from plane, yes?”
Geez, one look at his bod, and I just wanted to bounce on his abs….seriously.
But what was I thinking? I was “in a relationship” with Mike. I had to stop looking at those abs….those eyes…..dear lord those thighs….. And yet, there stood Dom in front of me, chest and leg straps undone.
“AirplaneShjayne. You-a help me, yes?”
Stop staring Shjay—jayne! Think about Mike! Your relationship! What relationship? More like a joke! Oh yeah, I was in a relationship. I had stopped seeing anyone else. I had decided that Mike was “the one.” Only one problem left with this relationship: I was the only one in it! Mike was still sowing wild oats.
But back to Dom….ahhh, Dom….with dangling leg straps.
I couldn’t let him jump from a plane looking like that now, could I? So I tightened up those leg straps, hooked that chest strap, (went to the store about 6 times in a row), and helped him put his helmet on.
“Follow me, Dom.”
And follow me he did – for the rest of the weekend! I had him eating dirt while jumping off the platform doing practice landings, and he fed me chocolate. He told me of his home in Italy, and I told him emergency procedures. I showed him how to pack a parachute, and he showed me his 6-pack abs. Before I knew it, it was Sunday afternoon, and time for him to shum –err - jump.
“Shjayne…”
“Sorry, Dom? Did you say something?”
“Shjayne….I’m a, how you say? Leetle nervous. Ah, maybe you can-a stand where I land, no?”
So, I stood where he would land. And land he did. Lordy, lordy with those beautiful arms (not to mention abs and thighs) he hugged me and whispered, “Shjayne. I would-a like to see you, yes? Maybe dinner, say, tomorrow in town, no? Here is-a where I am staying. Please say you’ll come?”
So fast forward to the next day. I went through the day on auto-pilot – just waiting for the five-o’clock whistle to blow, so I could too! Damn the torpedoes, and relationship be damned! I was tired of the double standard! I was going to eat Italian!! I threw open the door, stepped into the parking lot, strode confidently towards my car, gave a defiant tilt of my chin to Mike –
“Err -- Mike!?! What are you doing here?”
“Hey sweetheart. I—ahh—I thought you’d like to go to dinner. With me.”
Dinner with Mike?
Dinner with Dom?
Stay the course, or jump ship?
I could almost hear the Clash singing: “Come on and let me know: Should I stay or should I go?”
Argh, no time for the indecision that was bugging me. I had to choose.
And I chose Mike.
So, in hindsight, there was one major crossroad in my life: I chose to stay with Mike. Would I go back and take that other branch, knowing what I do now?
Probably not…..
But oh Lordy, lordy, do I remember those abs….and eyes…..and mercy me, those thighs…
So of course, since my (current) philosophy is “rules, schmules, we don’t need no stinking rules!” I decided, “What the heck. How about writing about a moment in your life that only in hindsight, do you realize was a crossroads?” You know, those seemingly (at the time) inconsequential moments that you look back on and say, “Hey! What if I had done ‘x’ instead of ‘y’?” What if I had stayed in Nebraska? What if I didn’t start skydiving? What if? One of my favorite whatifs, is Dominic.
Ah…..Dominic. Dom was Italian, and spoke little English. He came out to the drop zone one Saturday morning with (I think) his cousin. He wanted to, “how-a you say? I-a, wan to-a shjump from plane, yes?”
Geez, one look at his bod, and I just wanted to bounce on his abs….seriously.
But what was I thinking? I was “in a relationship” with Mike. I had to stop looking at those abs….those eyes…..dear lord those thighs….. And yet, there stood Dom in front of me, chest and leg straps undone.
“AirplaneShjayne. You-a help me, yes?”
Stop staring Shjay—jayne! Think about Mike! Your relationship! What relationship? More like a joke! Oh yeah, I was in a relationship. I had stopped seeing anyone else. I had decided that Mike was “the one.” Only one problem left with this relationship: I was the only one in it! Mike was still sowing wild oats.
But back to Dom….ahhh, Dom….with dangling leg straps.
I couldn’t let him jump from a plane looking like that now, could I? So I tightened up those leg straps, hooked that chest strap, (went to the store about 6 times in a row), and helped him put his helmet on.
“Follow me, Dom.”
And follow me he did – for the rest of the weekend! I had him eating dirt while jumping off the platform doing practice landings, and he fed me chocolate. He told me of his home in Italy, and I told him emergency procedures. I showed him how to pack a parachute, and he showed me his 6-pack abs. Before I knew it, it was Sunday afternoon, and time for him to shum –err - jump.
“Shjayne…”
“Sorry, Dom? Did you say something?”
“Shjayne….I’m a, how you say? Leetle nervous. Ah, maybe you can-a stand where I land, no?”
So, I stood where he would land. And land he did. Lordy, lordy with those beautiful arms (not to mention abs and thighs) he hugged me and whispered, “Shjayne. I would-a like to see you, yes? Maybe dinner, say, tomorrow in town, no? Here is-a where I am staying. Please say you’ll come?”
So fast forward to the next day. I went through the day on auto-pilot – just waiting for the five-o’clock whistle to blow, so I could too! Damn the torpedoes, and relationship be damned! I was tired of the double standard! I was going to eat Italian!! I threw open the door, stepped into the parking lot, strode confidently towards my car, gave a defiant tilt of my chin to Mike –
“Err -- Mike!?! What are you doing here?”
“Hey sweetheart. I—ahh—I thought you’d like to go to dinner. With me.”
Dinner with Mike?
Dinner with Dom?
Stay the course, or jump ship?
I could almost hear the Clash singing: “Come on and let me know: Should I stay or should I go?”
Argh, no time for the indecision that was bugging me. I had to choose.
And I chose Mike.
So, in hindsight, there was one major crossroad in my life: I chose to stay with Mike. Would I go back and take that other branch, knowing what I do now?
Probably not…..
But oh Lordy, lordy, do I remember those abs….and eyes…..and mercy me, those thighs…
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
I'm back in the saddle again....
okay, okay
- yes I do have ponies...
no it's not that kind of saddle....
yes I do know that the phrase means something else entirely and
no...it's not that kind of saddle either.....
what a sad pathetic QUIET life I lead.....
but okay! enough of the pity party. Anyone up for a game of charades? The four horses, two kitties and one bird have grown tired of playing, especially since they always guess wrong. I mean, hello!?!?!? The bird keeps guessing, "Whoo??Whoo?" And I keep giving the sign for "book! book!" Guess that's what ya' get for playing with animals.....
surgery went well, pain is tolerable - tylenol working fine.
Nurses were very nice at surgery center. Waited for an hour (!!!) in pre-op. Don't know what the delay was -- but used it to my advantage. Yes....I TALKED!!!! Hey, from ME, whaddya expect? Remember: I was never invited to the silent retreats......
Soooo...wheeled into surgery at 12:45, woke up at 1:25, went home to Donna's at 1:50. Don't like to stay too long at hospitals, because of previous horror stories. Ate jello cups and pudding -- Made me think of Bill Cosby commercials: Pudding! LIFE IS GOOD!
Came home from Donna's this evening -- I was ready for my own bed and TV. Ahhh, the comforts of home.
Thanks to all that have emailed me -- mostly filled with advice to shuddup.......
I'M TRYING!!!!
--and yes, Lecram -- I may be blogging wildly....or wildly blogging.....or perhaps I'll take a chance and just be wildly......silent.
- yes I do have ponies...
no it's not that kind of saddle....
yes I do know that the phrase means something else entirely and
no...it's not that kind of saddle either.....
what a sad pathetic QUIET life I lead.....
but okay! enough of the pity party. Anyone up for a game of charades? The four horses, two kitties and one bird have grown tired of playing, especially since they always guess wrong. I mean, hello!?!?!? The bird keeps guessing, "Whoo??Whoo?" And I keep giving the sign for "book! book!" Guess that's what ya' get for playing with animals.....
surgery went well, pain is tolerable - tylenol working fine.
Nurses were very nice at surgery center. Waited for an hour (!!!) in pre-op. Don't know what the delay was -- but used it to my advantage. Yes....I TALKED!!!! Hey, from ME, whaddya expect? Remember: I was never invited to the silent retreats......
Soooo...wheeled into surgery at 12:45, woke up at 1:25, went home to Donna's at 1:50. Don't like to stay too long at hospitals, because of previous horror stories. Ate jello cups and pudding -- Made me think of Bill Cosby commercials: Pudding! LIFE IS GOOD!
Came home from Donna's this evening -- I was ready for my own bed and TV. Ahhh, the comforts of home.
Thanks to all that have emailed me -- mostly filled with advice to shuddup.......
I'M TRYING!!!!
--and yes, Lecram -- I may be blogging wildly....or wildly blogging.....or perhaps I'll take a chance and just be wildly......silent.
Monday, August 08, 2005
Last dance....
As we speak, I am having a Donna Summer moment. I've dug "Last Dance" out of the cobwebs, playing it on my CD player, and singing --in my best Kathleen Turner voice --
"--Last dance, last dance to-night...."
Tomorrow, I'll be lipsyncing "Sound of Silence"
If any of you want to write me --
Let's rephrase that --
You can email me at: airplanejayne1@yahoo.com
Love and kisses....and all the smushy stuff,
APj
"--Last dance, last dance to-night...."
Tomorrow, I'll be lipsyncing "Sound of Silence"
If any of you want to write me --
Let's rephrase that --
You can email me at: airplanejayne1@yahoo.com
Love and kisses....and all the smushy stuff,
APj
Friday, August 05, 2005
Gone to the Dogs!
Oh my gosh! It is fascinating the information about one's self that one can learn on the Internet! No, I'm not talking about Googling one's self - although that is very entertaining.
Via a test site found courtesy of Jade ed Gypsy, I learned that my bodacious ta-ta's were named Tweedledee and Tweedledum. On another occasion, Lecram helped me learn my true I.Q., and I then discovered that, yes, I truly was Peter Pan.
I have now discovered that I am a bitch. A pretty cool one too! No, not that kind of bitch -- although I always thought it was an acronym for Boys I'm Taking Charge Here
--not that kind of bitch -- the four-legged dog kind.
Dog Name
I am an English Cocker Spaniel
Origins
....Originally from Spain. Cockers got their name for their expertise in flushing woodcock and other small game while hunting.
Personality
The English Cocker Spaniel is a hardy, energetic and affectionate dog. Excellent with kids; gentle and playful, but does not tolerate teasing well. It is sociable with strangers, a moderate barker, and obeys respectfully the orders it is given. Generally an outgoing breed,but some individuals can be reserved. Cockers should be trained very gently, but firmly, as they are sensitive but also rather independent.
So....what kind of dog are you?
(after you click on the above link, click on the "which dog are you" question on the bottom right side)
Via a test site found courtesy of Jade ed Gypsy, I learned that my bodacious ta-ta's were named Tweedledee and Tweedledum. On another occasion, Lecram helped me learn my true I.Q., and I then discovered that, yes, I truly was Peter Pan.
I have now discovered that I am a bitch. A pretty cool one too! No, not that kind of bitch -- although I always thought it was an acronym for Boys I'm Taking Charge Here
--not that kind of bitch -- the four-legged dog kind.
Dog Name
I am an English Cocker Spaniel
Origins
....Originally from Spain. Cockers got their name for their expertise in flushing woodcock and other small game while hunting.
Personality
The English Cocker Spaniel is a hardy, energetic and affectionate dog. Excellent with kids; gentle and playful, but does not tolerate teasing well. It is sociable with strangers, a moderate barker, and obeys respectfully the orders it is given. Generally an outgoing breed,but some individuals can be reserved. Cockers should be trained very gently, but firmly, as they are sensitive but also rather independent.
So....what kind of dog are you?
(after you click on the above link, click on the "which dog are you" question on the bottom right side)
Thursday, August 04, 2005
Adventures of Buck, part 4
Previous post
Oh! What’s happening? I feel that hand, that scary-hairy squirrel of a hand, grabbing me out of the dark. I’m being lifted, back into the light. Free at last, free at last, hallelujah thank God, I’m free at last! And thank God I’m out of that pocket! Not only did it smell like elderberries – I kept getting a strange desire: a desire to be in a tree….and eat nuts……and run across streets dodging cars……and a desire to runaway with some goddess named Sandra Bullock……
But what’s this? I can hardly hear, because the music is so loud.
Bowchicabowbow. Bump, bump, bowchicabowbow.
I’m still in his hands, and yet I’m moving….swaying…..dancing….
bowchicabowbow, bowchicabowbow.
Whoa! Hello ladies!!!! What are those? I’m being lifted, almost transported towards two amazing globes. Shaking globes. That strange squirrel man is calling out “Bambi and Tweedledum! Hatcher and Bullock!”
Foolish idiot squirrel! He’ll ruin it for both of us. The amazing globes are turning to leave. I must stop them! I try to speak--I try to say, “Hello Ladies!” But I’m only a buck!! I’ve got no lips…no mouth. How can I speak to them? How can I tell them I love them?
Bowchicabowbow, bowchicabowbow
Ahhhh, yes….I’ll dance for the goddesses. So I begin to shake. I shake my groove thing. I become a rumpshaker of a bill.
Bowchicabowbow, bowchicabowbow
The amazing globes turn back. They watch my dance. Oh, be still my heart, I think they want me! They are moving towards me….
And still I’m dancing…bowchicabowbow, bowchicabowbow……
and each shake of his wrist leads me closer to Utopia. Ah yes! The road to Utopia!
And still I’m dancing – bowchicabowbow,bowchicabowbow……
The squirrel man and I are in perfect rhythm – what a team! And as the music gently slows and then dies, the squirrel man tucks me gently between the comforting globes.
And for the second time today, I smell elderberries, and I weep; for this strange scary squirrel of a man has brought me to Nirvana.
Free at last, free at last, hallelujah thank the Scary Squirrel Man, I am free at last!
Oh! What’s happening? I feel that hand, that scary-hairy squirrel of a hand, grabbing me out of the dark. I’m being lifted, back into the light. Free at last, free at last, hallelujah thank God, I’m free at last! And thank God I’m out of that pocket! Not only did it smell like elderberries – I kept getting a strange desire: a desire to be in a tree….and eat nuts……and run across streets dodging cars……and a desire to runaway with some goddess named Sandra Bullock……
But what’s this? I can hardly hear, because the music is so loud.
Bowchicabowbow. Bump, bump, bowchicabowbow.
I’m still in his hands, and yet I’m moving….swaying…..dancing….
bowchicabowbow, bowchicabowbow.
Whoa! Hello ladies!!!! What are those? I’m being lifted, almost transported towards two amazing globes. Shaking globes. That strange squirrel man is calling out “Bambi and Tweedledum! Hatcher and Bullock!”
Foolish idiot squirrel! He’ll ruin it for both of us. The amazing globes are turning to leave. I must stop them! I try to speak--I try to say, “Hello Ladies!” But I’m only a buck!! I’ve got no lips…no mouth. How can I speak to them? How can I tell them I love them?
Bowchicabowbow, bowchicabowbow
Ahhhh, yes….I’ll dance for the goddesses. So I begin to shake. I shake my groove thing. I become a rumpshaker of a bill.
Bowchicabowbow, bowchicabowbow
The amazing globes turn back. They watch my dance. Oh, be still my heart, I think they want me! They are moving towards me….
And still I’m dancing…bowchicabowbow, bowchicabowbow……
and each shake of his wrist leads me closer to Utopia. Ah yes! The road to Utopia!
And still I’m dancing – bowchicabowbow,bowchicabowbow……
The squirrel man and I are in perfect rhythm – what a team! And as the music gently slows and then dies, the squirrel man tucks me gently between the comforting globes.
And for the second time today, I smell elderberries, and I weep; for this strange scary squirrel of a man has brought me to Nirvana.
Free at last, free at last, hallelujah thank the Scary Squirrel Man, I am free at last!
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
Throat drama, part deux
Okay, so here's the latest adventures of "Chords de Vocalle de AirplaneJayne."
Friday found Jayne in the office of a very nice (but very married...darn!) Doctor F. Doctor F explained that he was going to rest an instrument called a videostrobe on my tongue. This instrument had a little camera that would peek over my tongue, and shoot pictures of my vocal chords. This entire event should take no longer than 15 seconds -- as long as I didn't gag......
"Oh Great!' I thought. "As long as I don't gag? How can I tell this very handsome (but very married...) doc that just thinking about gagging makes me gag?"
"Okay, Doc." I respond jovially, "I'll do my best."
So without much ado—
--great play at Woodward Park, by the way—
--Again, without further ado, cute Doctor F inserts his instrument into my mouth, and yes-- I gag.
“Sorry,” says the handsome (but married) Doctor F “My fault.”
Fantastic! Finally a man who’ll admit that it’s his fault when I gag!!!!
But (again), darn! He’s already married!
So, with much grace and at a slower pace, Doctor F. rests the instrument on my tongue, and tells me to say the letter “E” without stopping--
--Hey, I ain’t gagging, so if the letter “E” makes him happy, fine with me.
“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE”
About 8 seconds later (which is all that’s necessary for a bull ride, thank you very much), cute (but married) Doc F is done. I think I need to repeat that: In 8 seconds. Doc F is done. 8 seconds. Done.
“Well done Jayne. Let’s take a look at the movie.”
So I look at the screen, and voila! My chords! In all their glory!
But ewww! What is that big thing on the side?
Doc F points out that lump runs from the bottom to the middle of my left chord. He feels that surgery is necessary, but tells me that he and Doc W (nice, but not as cute) will consult before my meeting on Monday.
Monday morning arrived, even though I made every attempt to stop it. I found myself (again) at the Doctor's office.
“Well, Jayne” says Doctor W, “This is not a normal nodule--”
Hello!?!? Normal? Jayne? This guy shoulda figured out that there’s nothing NORMAL about ME by now….
“--But it doesn’t look cancerous. I’d be flabbergasted if it was cancerous. Now, I have been flabbergasted before – but not very often.”
So – to conclude: Totally un-normal Jayne has an un-normal nodule on her left vocal chord. Cute (but married) Doc. F apologized for making Jayne gag, but took pictures anyway. Nice (but not cute) Doc. W wants to have Jayne over (to hospital) for sleepover (during the day) next week to remove flabber from chord.
The Gast is going to be that Jayne can not talk for 10 days after surgery.
Please stop laughing…..that’s not funny…..really – stop laughing!!! This is serious!!!
Okay, after you have gotten yourself under control, please help me figure out how to get us all set up on Yahoo IM so that I can talk –err I mean type at you during my recovery.
Friday found Jayne in the office of a very nice (but very married...darn!) Doctor F. Doctor F explained that he was going to rest an instrument called a videostrobe on my tongue. This instrument had a little camera that would peek over my tongue, and shoot pictures of my vocal chords. This entire event should take no longer than 15 seconds -- as long as I didn't gag......
"Oh Great!' I thought. "As long as I don't gag? How can I tell this very handsome (but very married...) doc that just thinking about gagging makes me gag?"
"Okay, Doc." I respond jovially, "I'll do my best."
So without much ado—
--great play at Woodward Park, by the way—
--Again, without further ado, cute Doctor F inserts his instrument into my mouth, and yes-- I gag.
“Sorry,” says the handsome (but married) Doctor F “My fault.”
Fantastic! Finally a man who’ll admit that it’s his fault when I gag!!!!
But (again), darn! He’s already married!
So, with much grace and at a slower pace, Doctor F. rests the instrument on my tongue, and tells me to say the letter “E” without stopping--
--Hey, I ain’t gagging, so if the letter “E” makes him happy, fine with me.
“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE”
About 8 seconds later (which is all that’s necessary for a bull ride, thank you very much), cute (but married) Doc F is done. I think I need to repeat that: In 8 seconds. Doc F is done. 8 seconds. Done.
“Well done Jayne. Let’s take a look at the movie.”
So I look at the screen, and voila! My chords! In all their glory!
But ewww! What is that big thing on the side?
Doc F points out that lump runs from the bottom to the middle of my left chord. He feels that surgery is necessary, but tells me that he and Doc W (nice, but not as cute) will consult before my meeting on Monday.
Monday morning arrived, even though I made every attempt to stop it. I found myself (again) at the Doctor's office.
“Well, Jayne” says Doctor W, “This is not a normal nodule--”
Hello!?!? Normal? Jayne? This guy shoulda figured out that there’s nothing NORMAL about ME by now….
“--But it doesn’t look cancerous. I’d be flabbergasted if it was cancerous. Now, I have been flabbergasted before – but not very often.”
So – to conclude: Totally un-normal Jayne has an un-normal nodule on her left vocal chord. Cute (but married) Doc. F apologized for making Jayne gag, but took pictures anyway. Nice (but not cute) Doc. W wants to have Jayne over (to hospital) for sleepover (during the day) next week to remove flabber from chord.
The Gast is going to be that Jayne can not talk for 10 days after surgery.
Please stop laughing…..that’s not funny…..really – stop laughing!!! This is serious!!!
Okay, after you have gotten yourself under control, please help me figure out how to get us all set up on Yahoo IM so that I can talk –err I mean type at you during my recovery.
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