Chipmunk Cheeks

I thought at one point that maybe my diagnosis of having Sjogren's Syndrome was a mistake. I didn't have any of the symptoms; my eyes weren't dry and I still had plenty of saliva. Slowly, over the last year, my skin and hair has started drying out when they had been extremely oily before, and I had to stop wearing my contact lenses because my eyes had dried to the point where the lenses wouldn't stick to my eyes anymore. The joint pain and fatigue has gotten much worse.

This past three days, my submandibular (under the jaw) and parotid (in front of the ears) glands are swollen hard and huge, like I have the mumps. Whenever I try to chew, my jaw rubs against them and irritates them, making them bigger and more painful. My face is completely huge and round and my facial features swim in the middle like raisins in a vast bowl of pudding. Very attractive.....

I've been taking Tylenol for the pain. It'll be so much fun going back to work on Tuesday....

Vacation!

This has been a quiet week. We've pretty much stayed at home, except for a day trip yesterday to Fredericksburg, a little German-themed tourist town in the hill country. There are loads of quaint little shops and restaurants there and we walked all over the downtown area. I'm paying for it today. My fibro was so bad that my physical therapist told me just to go home and rest. My glands at the base of my jaw are swollen up and are as hard as rocks.

I looked at different websites for Frederickburg to see what all types of lodgings were available, in case we wanted to spend the night. The only places listed on the websites were B&Bs and expensive resorts. Of course, when we get into town, we see a Super 8 motel and several other decent-looking inexpensive motels. I should have known better. A touristy-type place like that surely would have all types of lodgings, not just the expensive ones. We took our camera but didn't take any pictures, for some reason.

As far as souvenirs, I bought a t-shirt, a fridge magnet and a stuffed jackalope. I bought two hex signs from an Amish furniture dealer to hang on the doors of the shed. I also got some peanut butter fudge from a shop called Rustler Bob's and it is GOOD. When is fudge not good?

A long time ago....

in a land not so far away, HR Pufnstuf gave me the secret to true happiness: Marry your StudBoy(tm) and you'll be eternally happy.

And so we were married, 13 years ago today....and I am eternally happy, it's true.

Son of Record Store-ies

Another one of my co-workers at the record shop was a sweet little lady named Bess. Bess was probably in her late 70s or older when I worked there and she had worked in record stores since the 1940s. She was the stereotypical "little old lady" who looked as if she still wore white gloves to church. She enjoyed having lunch at the Luby's Cafeteria, where Miss Inez still played the organ during the lunch rush. My boss had given Bess a job when she read a newspaper article about how Bess had worked at Melody Shop in downtown Dallas for over 40 years and they had fired her so they could hire someone younger. Melody Shop quickly went out of business because of the bad publicity the story garnered.

Melody Shop's loss was our gain. Bess was a goldmine!

She told me some great stories about one of her favorite customers, Jack Ruby. Yep, THAT Jack Ruby. He used to bring some of his "floozies" (Bess's term) into Melody Shop and buy them records and record players. He always asked for Bess to wait on him and he always gave good tips. "I never believed all those stories about Mr. Ruby. He was always very nice to me." But not to Lee Harvey Oswald, apparently.

My favorite Bess story: one summer day, Bess and I were alone in the shop. A couple of "tough" looking punk wannabes came in and started looking through the stacks, making obnoxious remarks about the "fuckin' hippie records". I ignored them, as I was trying to re-alphabetize the country 45s. Bess walked up to the biggest one and asked sweetly in her tiny mousy voice, "can I help you young men find anything?"

He smirked at his friend and replied "yeah, ya got any Metallica?, which prompted snorts of laughter from both of them.

Bess turned around, flipped through the M's and pulled put a couple of records. "Here's a copy of Garage Days Re-Visited, and I believe this other one is the Enter Sandman 12-inch single. They're quite popular with the young people. Will that be cash, check or credit?"

The punk wannabes both stared at Bess like she was from another planet, ironic since both of them had multiple piercings and multi-colored hair, and this was before it was popular to look like a macaw. They bought their Metallica records and always said hello to Bess when they came in after that.

Bess was a rocker at heart, and I don't mean rocking chair.



Several memories related to the records we played in the store come to mind. By the way, this was a RECORD SHOP and we played RECORDS, not CDs:

1. We were all big Randy Newman fans, and a copy of his LP "Good Old Boys" was kept in the play stack behind the counter. We had explicit instructions to only play the less objectionable side two, NEVER side 1, which starts off with "Rednecks" ('we're keeping the niggers down" goes the chorus of that tune). Side 2 would be ending and I or another one of my co-workers would be involved in something or other and not paying attention. Bess would inevitably forget and flip the record over and then as I was helping a customer, I'd hear Randy sing "Last night I saw Lester Maddox with some smart-ass New York Jew", and I, Chuck or my boss would literally sprint through the store, leaping across the counter to rrrrrrriiiiiippppp the stylus off the record......

2. Whenever we played "Who Are You?" by the Who, my boss was usually in the office. At the point in the song where Daltrey shouts "Ahh, who the FUCK are you!?" she would come out into the store and always made sure we were all looking at her when she lip-synced that line. Then she'd turn around and go back into the office.

3. An older gentleman picks up a copy of "Trout Mask Replica", the Captain Beefheart LP, which had been on Chuck's desk. (Trout Mask Replica has an.... errrrr....unusual cover.) He brings it up to me at the front counter, shakes his head and asks me "what the HELL does this one sound like?"
The incredulousness in his voice immediately puts me into hysterics and I can't answer. Chuck comes up and says "what's up"? and I'm laughing so hard I can only point: record, old man, Chuck. Chuck says to the old guy, "Errrr, you won't like that one."

4. I was being interviewed for an article on vinyl vs. CDs in the Dallas Morning News when a customer calls and says that she needs a love song, but she can't remember which one. "Can you just name all the love songs you have in the store?"

5. I had a bit of a reputation for not suffering fools gladly. This happened several times: A customer came in and rebuffed me after I greeted them and asked what they were looking for.
"You can't POSSIBLY help me! You're much too young!" the customer pompously sniffs.
So they go to Chuck and ask him. He doesn't know the answer, so he asks me. Of course, I know the answer. The customer comes back up to the front counter, looking at me expectantly. "Well?"
"I'm too young to know what you're looking for, so I can't possibly help you", I seethe at them.
The customer runs back to Chuck, crying "she was rude to me!!"
Chuck replies in his laconic manner, "You're lucky she didn't leap over the counter and kick your ass."

more record store-ies

A couple of months ago I wrote about some of the more memorable customers I had when I worked at a used record store in Dallas. Those were the ones I remembered off the top of my head. Earlier today, I found my journal from those years and it definitely refreshed my memory of even more weirdos and unusual people:

1. A woman comes in and asks if we have any records by the band Point Blank. "My husband was in Point Blank and he wrote all their hits!"
"Oh yeah? What's his name?" She told me and I started looking through their records, all of which we happened to have at that particular point in time. "I don't see him listed on any of these, ma'am."
She becomes enraged ans starts yelling, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN? WHY ARE YOU SAYING THIS? YOU"RE ALL OUT TO GET MEEEEEE!" then she runs out of the store sobbing. She wasn't the first customer to run sobbing out the door after I was through with her....

2. Another woman came in and was looking through our Elvis Presley LPs. She brings a copy of Moody Blue up to me at the counter and says with a smirk, "You're ripping people off, you know."
"How is that?"
"This record is worth $40 and you have it marked for $20."
"How is it ripping people off if we sell the record for less than it's worth? I'd say that would be making them a deal, wouldn't you?", I replied, staring into her vacant eyes.
Her face sags heavily and she lays the record on the counter and walks out. About 10 minutes later, the phone rings.
"Hello, Record Shop."
" YOU'RE RIPPING PEOPLE OFF!! FUCK YOU!!! FUCK YOU!!!"
I hang up on the nutty bitch and she proceeds to call back and hang up 6 times.

3. A mousy little woman came in one day and asked for some records by Eddie & the Cruisers. (Eddie & the Cruisers was a movie, not an actual band. John Cafferty & the Beaver Brown Band (a real band) did the music in the movie). I tell her that we have the soundtrack.
"Don't you have any of their earlier records?" she peered through coke bottle glasses.
"Well, they don't have any earlier records. Eddie & the Cruisers was just a movie, they weren't an actual band."
"YOU'RE LYING TO ME! I KNOW EDDIE PERSONALLY!"
I thought I saw her hair actually go on end and I wasn't in the mood to deal with a psycho, so I tried to calm her down and asked if she maybe had a list of "Eddie's" older records. She reached in her ratty looking purse and brought out a crumpled piece of paper, which read:
Eddie & the Cruisers
Eddie & the Cruisers 2
Eddie & the Cruisers
Eddie & the Cruisers
Eddie & the Cruisers
listed 25 times. I told her that I would keep her list and call her if any came in. She walked out to her car in the parking lot and started ranting and raving to no one in particular, waving her arms, walking in circles around her car and poking her finger in the air. A policeman happened to be driving by and he convinced her to leave, finally...and no, I never came across any early Eddie & the Cruisers records. Not even Eddie & the Cruisers 2- Electric Bugaloo.

4. A Peter Lorre lookalike with a comb-over and huge bug eyes brings a King Crimson LP up to me. He's sweating profusely, so I step back and he stands even closer to me and pulls the record out of the sleeve, being oh-so-careful not to touch the groove. He points to a particular spot on the groove and simpers to me, "this is where the guitar solo starts, heh, heh, heh, heh........

5. An old codger wearing a fedora and suspenders comes up to me, winks, nudges me in the ribs and says, Hey Blondie! Whar do yew keep the "saucy" records?"

6. A drunk white guy in a Hawaiian shirt and straw hat comes in with 2 attractive black women who clearly can't stand the sight of him. He sidles up to Chuck, the store manager, and starts proclaiming about all the reggae stars he once played with. "Marley, Tosh, Wailer...all of 'em!"
He was standing so close to Chuck I thought he might kiss him. The black ladies were muttering "drunk-ass motherfucker....stupid son of a bitch...." etc.
The guy then goes out to his car and changes his hat. He comes back in with his new headgear, goes right back up to Chuck and starts all over again. Again, Chuck convinces the guy that he's just not interested, so the guy goes out to his car AGAIN and gets another hat. Chuck finally told him to get out......

7. A man starts telling me that records are no good and everyone should switch to CDs IMMEDIATELY (The loonies always seem to talk in CAPITAL LETTERS). I mentioned that I prefer the sound of LPs, since analog is how the human ear hears.
"BULLSHIT!" CDs ARE BETTER AND YOU KNOW IT! YOU MUST BE A DRUG ADDICT!!"

8. One of my favorite customers was a small red-headed gay man who was a serious collector. He was always nice and a pleasure to help. His catchphrase was "now, Lisa, no repros!" meaning only 1st pressings, no reproductions. Like I said, he was a serious record collector. One day he came in looking very sad and ill. He told me that he had just been diagnosed as HIV positive. I told him how sorry I was and how much I always looked forward to visiting with him. He thanked me, then said he needed to leave because he was hungry. I offered to share my Cheetos with him. He gingerly took one out of the package and burst into tears. He left, then about 2 weeks later, a friend of his came in and told us that he had died.

My bosses and co-workers had their moments too. Our 78 guy was a WW2 veteran and knew everything about 78 rpm records. He was vaguely grumpy, but never rude to customers. When I knew him, he was in his 70s and his pot dealer used to come to the back door of the shop. He liked a nice smoke and pretty young boys too. None of us had any problems with either the pot smoking (we all did it too, after all) or the pretty young boys. We all liked him very much and he had loads of customers who would come in to listen to his stories. Unfortunately, sometimes he would get on my boss's nerves and they would snipe at each other across the store.
One day, he had been talking to a new customer about Bunny Berigan's recordings and the customer wanted to get to know him better.
"How long have you dealt in the old records?"
"Oh, about 50 years, ever since I got out the Army. I was in WW2, ya know. Got a Bronze Star."
"Are you a married man? Got any kids?"
"No sir, I'm a life-long bachelor!"
I was standing in the office (which was 6 feet away from the 78 room) talking to my boss, the store owner, and she could stand it no longer.
"Life-long QUEEN is more like it!!" she exclaimed.
I stared at my boss incredulously, she laughed with that barking laugh of hers and there was silence from the 78 room.
"Well, sir, I'll be going now".

I went to the 78 man's funeral and his last pretty young boy (who had caused him many problems, stealing from him and the like) showed up with a transvestite in full disco regalia: sequined tube top, white short shorts, fake eyelashes, the whole works. My co-worker's family knew nothing of his private life and they were absolutely horrified. The boy came up to me with his "date" and said "Hi Lisa, do you remember me?"
"Unfortunately, yes." I turned around and walked away.

Here it comes........

Just one more week until vacation. I hope we get the truck back from the shop by then, so we can actually DO something. The rental car we have (a 2007 Toyota Corolla) is pretty nice, though. It drives and handles remarkably well, enough that we're mooting getting rid of my Mom's old Cougar and getting one after the truck is paid off.

I work half days most of this week. My desk is piled high with crap that apparently only I can imagine how to do, so I'm not looking forward to coming back after vacation. If they think I'm going to be checking my work email and doing stuff while I'm at home, they are sadly mistaken. They don't pay me enough for that. I check it during the days I get off early since I'm supposed to be working anyway, but not on vacation.

I start physical therapy this week too. The chiropractor was stressing me out too much, to the point that I had a panic attack on Thursday. So, my regular doc suggested physical therapy instead of letting this woman (who does not have a medical degree) tell me that I need a CT scan on my chest and I need to see an endocrinologist for thyroid problems, which she diagnosed with no blood work. My regular doc does blood work on me several times every year and my thyroid numbers are always normal. It's gotten to the point where my blood pressure goes way up whenever I go to her office. It's always on the low side when my regular doc checks it.

Mother's Day is not good here, but Adrian and I went out for lunch and tried to enjoy ourselves. The panic attack on Thursday was partly because I remembered Mother's Day was today. It's just too hard to remember that I can't see her or talk to her anymore.

Guess what? You have a broken neck!

Well, really just a hairline fracture of a cervical vertebrae, and some cracked ribs too. The chiropractor gave me a note to work a half day today, be off tomorrow and work half days for the next week.
I'm glad we have a lawyer now........

UPDATE: the chiropractor told me this morning that she looked again at the x-ray of my neck and I DON'T have a hairline fracture, just whiplash and 2 cracked ribs.

so Guess what? I DON'T have a broken neck! YAY!

Concussion

Yes, my doctor says I have a concussion. I also have a terrible contusion (bruise) under my left breast that looks absolutely disgusting. She wanted me to go home after my appointment with her yesterday and not work today, but I compromised with not working late yesterday and only half a day today. Adrian also needs to see his doctor. He says he's OK, but men will never tell you when they hurt.
I also am in the process of hiring an attorney to represent us in case the insurance companies have to fight it out. The truck is in the shop, we have a rental car......now we just wait.....

a lovely evening........

Old people should be required to take driving tests every time they renew their licenses after age 70. A 75 year old driver is 3 times more likely to die in a car crash than a 23 year old driver. Usually, it's an older driver losing control of their car that causes the most damage. A few years back, an elderly man stepped on the accelerator instead of the brake and killed 10 people at a farmer's market.

I was the recipient of this theory tonight. On the way home from work, my husband and I were riding along when an elderly man ran a stop sign. I could see that he wasn't going to stop, so I slammed on my brakes and started to lay on the horn. My hand didn't even get as far as the horn when our airbags deployed and we smashed into the front of the old man's car. We sat there stunned, in a choking haze of airbag dust.

We're both OK, as is the old man, but his car and our car will need extensive repairs. To add insult to injury, it started pouring with rain as we were talking to the cops. The cops ticketed the old man for running a stop sign. I got checked out by the paramedics even though I didn't feel I was hurt.

NOW I feel hurt. I have horrendous bruises on my chest and on my stomach, and my husband and I both are very sore and stiff. My face is red from the airbag dust and my eyes are irritated. We have insurance stuff to deal with tomorrow, so both of us are staying home from work. I should have the bruises looked at by my doctor and make sure that my back isn't injured further.

I'd rather be sore from exercising....