Thanksgiving à la Bean, part II

December 7, 2011

This is the second and final installment on the Bean Thanksgiving holiday.  If you haven’t read the first installment, you might start there first.

In the wee hours of Black Friday Jax whimpered in his sleep. The whimpering progressed to crying and the crying progressed to blood curdling screams.

His ear hurt, and it must have hurt like hell…. I got out the Motrin and the heating pad.

When he awakened again at a suitable hour, Jax said the ear didn’t hurt anymore. I’m suspicious of miracle cures, and although I was supposed to be spending my day in front of a computer on freelance, we went to see the good doctor.

The doc confirmed my diagnosis—infectious myringitis. Okay, I didn’t actually know it was called that, and even if I did, I wouldn’t have been able to pronounce it. And I certainly didn’t know that he had blisters on his tympanic membrane. And really I didn’t remember that the tympanic membrane was called a tympanic membrane.

Then the drawbridge got stuck when I was coming home from the pharmacy, and after 20 minutes of waiting and practicing my pronunciation of infectious myringitis, I made a u-turn and went 20 miles out of the way to get home.

Sissy Zorro arrived bearing a basket of dirty laundry. She was babysitting so that I could work. While we fed the little Beans leftover turkey, the washing machine agitated… or so I thought.

The Bean washing machine was actually spontaneously combusting, and by the time I discovered it, there was THREE INCHES OF WATER ON THE FLOOR.

Papa was upstairs in his garret watching a football game and didn’t hear my scream. Jax and Moose did and they went into hiding. Rooster was still in hiding from Thanksgiving.

For 20 minutes Sissy and I mopped, and then, eureka, a light went off in Sissy’s head, and she jumped up and screamed, “THERE’S A WET VAC IN THE GARAGE.”

It’s always news to me what’s in my garage. Everybody stores their stuff at Maison Bean, and Sissy and Buzz are no exception.

If you’ve got to have a washing machine that spontaneously combusts, a wet vac is a handy piece of equipment to have in your garage. After we cleaned I decided to have a little nap to recover, but just as I got settled the phone rang. It was Mimi talking about Christmas. After I finally got her off the phone and got settled again, the Pularsky’s yard boy turned on his leaf blower.

I gave up the nap.

In the kitchen, Papa pointed outside. Hyacinth had relieved herself in the backyard near the hitching post, and Papa couldn’t find it. I went outside to look. I didn’t want any little Bean ending up with it on his shoe. I scanned the whole backyard. Then I walked the length of the yard, back and forth, back and forth. There was no poop to be found. And then I found it just as I was about to go inside.

On the bottom of my left shoe. MY NEW LEFT SHOE. One of a pair of COLE HAAN ballet flats.

It was 4 p.m. I decided to move cocktail hour up.

Later that night I had a wreck. I was taking out the recycling and the ramp to the trailer that Papa had used to remove the combusted washing machine was invisible in the moonless night.

My sandal—it was a Christian Louboutin—caught under the ramp, and I did a nosedive onto the rusty steel bed, sending wine bottles flying all over the neighborhood. I skinned the palm of my left hand. I jammed the fingers in my right. I put a hematoma on my right shin and two of my toes were bleeding.

I left the wine bottles scattered about and limped inside for a bubble bath.  The next morning I woke up determined to have a better day. Then I looked in the mirror.

There was a zit on my chin.

Addenda

  • It was a monster zit and Papa took a picture of it, but I erased it from his camera and kept a Bandaid on my face for a week.
  • Moose has contracted bullous impetigo (something else I can’t pronounce), and it’s worse than a monster zit, and now he can’t perform in the Wee School Christmas pageant because they think impetigo is a Latin word for leprosy.

{ 6 comments… read them below or add one }

Irene December 7, 2011 at 1:44 pm

Be thankful that this all didn’t happen on Thanksgiving!

Impetigo is contagious. My kids got it routinely every winter. That and pink eye.

I actually felt pain when you described your injuries. Ah, nothing quite like a bath! I hope you felt better!

Washing machines suck.

Is infectious myringitis a fancy word for “ear infection”? Auto spell isn’t recognizing it. So it must be a scientific word.

Can’t wait to hear about Christmas! Should we take wagers and try to predict what will happen?

Jenn December 7, 2011 at 2:03 pm

Irene, it was an ear infection between the ear drum and the inner ear. We’ve had ear infections before but never ones that caused blisters.

Washing machines do suck. Doing laundry sucks. Wish it were economical and convenient to send it out.

I don’t even want to predict what will happen over Christmas.

XOXO, Jenny

Irene December 7, 2011 at 2:55 pm

Ewww, blisters! Poor thing! No wonder he was screaming! Once you get that antibiotic into them, they’re a world better!

Ah, Christmas…….It’s the most stressful time of the year….

Ally December 7, 2011 at 2:58 pm

I really don’t like to laugh at others’ misfortunes, but once again, a tale well told. I can handle a lot, but one of “those” zits would have left me hiding behind a bandaid, as well.

Betsy at Zen Mama December 10, 2011 at 2:28 pm

oh my god! The painfulness, literally and figuratively of being a mother… thank god for wine and bandaids! And you really didn’t want to go that cute play anyway…. :)
thinking about you and hoping your skin is fresh and smooth!!
xxoo

Kristy K. James December 26, 2011 at 10:55 pm

“…they think impetigo is a Latin word for leprosy.” Best laugh I’ve had all night…and part one with the three turkeys was pretty cute!

I don’t envy you your black Friday experience, though it’s called that for a reason, and it has nothing to do with how much retailers sell. It should be set aside as the day to recover from the day before, sitting in a soft place with a good book! :)

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