Santa, Revisited

Hold on to your britches, folks. Two blog posts in two days. Oh my!

Faithful readers may remember a post in which I talked about Marti's little stuffed Santa. Although the pug has ripped the stuffing out of too many stuffed toys to count (see also: Mr. Hedges), there is no question that Santa is her absolute favorite (thanks Crystal!). I swear the pug only parts with Saint Nick when he's in "the operating room" (aka the bookshelf) waiting to get his latest hole patched up.

Here is Santa in 2006:

Sure, he was missing an arm and a leg, but Santa was still looking pretty good.

Here is Santa now. WARNING! Not for the faint of heart:






It's true that Santa still looks bright and shiny. This is because I'm not afraid to throw Marti's entourage in a scalding wash cycle. But as you can see in the photos, Santa's falling apart. Exhibit A is what I call "Santa's Cuff." Exhibit B is what I call "Santa's Hand." And Exhibit C, well, that's Santa with his stub of an arm. What you probably can't see is the slit across Santa's forehead and the fact that he has one threadbare patch that is barely keeping the stuffing from shooting out of his nose.

When Santa's Cuff and Santa's Hand became detached, Marti thought she had two new toys. They have since disappeared; she either ate them or they're stuck under the couch. I don't know how Santa's Right Leg has managed to get by unscathed, but I'm patiently waiting for the day when Santa's Hat Ball becomes Marti's next target.

Breathing Easy...In More Ways Than One

So Alan can breathe now. That sounds weird, I know, because what was he doing all of this time if he couldn't breathe, right? Perfecting the art of one-nostril breathing, that's what.

The poor guy broke his nose as a teen and has been suffering ever since. So, for more than half his life he's been unable to breathe properly. And has suffered monstrous headaches as a result. And has gotten crazy-addicted to the only cure he could find: Afrin. (Which by the way, is the most amazing over-the-counter drug ever. If you have a cold and can't breathe, GET IT.)

So after some nagging from his loving wife, I finally convinced him to chat to his doctor about his nose. Which led to seeing an ear/nose/throat guru. Which led to a CT scan of his noggin. Which led to OH MY GOSH HIS NOSE IS SEVERELY JACKED UP.

But after going through all of the leg work, he just couldn't get around to scheduling the surgery to fix the deviated septum and turbinates that were effectively blocking his nose. Too busy, blah blah. So I nagged. And nagged. I must have emailed him with the surgery coordinator's phone number at least 10 times. I think he was getting grouchy about my nagging.

But guess what?After an hour of surgery, a couple of days with bloody tampons shoved up his nose and a huge wad of cotton taped to his face, guess who can breathe? Alan. And guess who he is forever grateful to for the nagging? That's right.

So, after that victory for my husband's health, here we were last week. Alan had to take a drug test and pass a background check for his new job. The boy has never touched a drug in his life, and although he did have a warrant in Kansas City for an unpaid ticket, he's had that cleared up for months. I reassured him that all would be fine and that he was worrying for NO REASON. But his paranoia was such that you would have thought he was an ex-convict with track marks on his arms. He was paranoid that the three pain capsules he took after his surgery would show up. He was worried that his Flintstone's chewables would turn into, I don't know, CRACK, on the drug test. I'm only exaggerating slightly.

Now, we're coming up on leaving in just a couple of weeks. We have an apartment set up in New Jersey. The wheels are in motion for our mega lifestyle change. So I can see why he'd be a little nervous. After all, we didn't need a Seinfeld poppyseed drug test failure moment.

After barely squeaking out enough pee to even take the drug test, guess whose urine was as clean as the day he was born? Alan. And guess who is getting a track record of being right a lot lately? That's right.