A day in the Life of a Germ-A-Phobe

Back in the day, yes, WAAAAAAAY back then, I enjoyed learning about microbiology. It was utterly captivating in the same way that a car accident involving multiple gory injuries is. You desperetly want a glimpse at the same time you are terrified of what you might actually see. I loved learning about all the tiny little specks too small to see that were powerful enough to decimate entire populations or make yogurt depending on thier whims. I loved doing the project where we went around campus and cultured places to see what we could grow.

Yummy.

FYI- it turned out to be more hygienic to lick the toilet than to touch either the door knob or the phone. YES! Cell phones are a good thing. At least you just put your own germs on your face...

Where was I going?

Oh right, now I remember. At the time I went through a brief period where I was obsessed with all things growing and didn't want to touch anything. Shaking hands was enough to make me break out in a cold sweat. The thought of touching raw chicken would make me heave. It was a great, if short lived, diet. Eventually I got over it and went back to ignoring the microscopic world rather than seeing it as an army planning covert ops at every second.

Once I had kids, my terror of germs evaporated due to sheer necessity. Instead of boiling everything I learned that mom-spit was naturally anti-bacterial, and the five second rule applied to any surface including public restrooms on occasion. OK, that was a bit gross. The point is that we all survived, sure D1 had permanent hearing damage from repeat ear infections but that was probably due to day care rather than the fact that I may have occasionally licked her pacifier to clean it off. Probably.

Now, we are pretty middle of the road. We wash our hands and use hand sanitizer whenever encountering plague in the form of McDonald's Play places, but we pretty much leave the obsessing to the neat-niks.

Except this week.

The week before a family vacation I have reverted to full scale battle readiness. We have gone through so many gallons of hand sanitizer none of the kids have skin left on their hands. I have wiped all the paint off the knobs with Lysol wipes and we look like chemo patients when we go out, to the few things we couldn't skip, since I have made everybody wear masks.

Hey! You can't be too careful. It is January! In a winter climate! People are constantly testing our reflexes and spewing vicious germs by the lung full whenever we turn around. I am determined that we will go on this trip and be healthy.

One way or another.

If that means bringing scuba gear for the plane, so be it. When you see a family breathing through snorkels on the plane be sure and wave. Don't bother trying to shake our hands, though, you might have a cold.

Fred and Ginger

In case you haven't heard, Hubs gave me a bunch of ballroom dance lessons for Christmas. This is something I was delighted over, as I have wanted to learn how to REALLY dance for, well, for ever really.

Until I learned that our fab package included "practice dances."

Oh goody.

I immediately had post traumatic flashbacks to high school dances. So not a time I want to relive. I would rather forget high school ever existed, in fact. definitely NOT the glory days, for me. Being a painfully shy , incredibly awkward kid just smart enough to realize how geeky she was, was so not the high point of life. In fact a few decades and several cross country moves later, the wisdom of experience lets me know I probably over-estimated how horrible it was. Time heals, blah, blah. Mostly. Somewhat.

So can you blame me for thinking up excuses to the first several "practice" parties? I mean I didn't go to my own prom, why on earth would I want to start now?

Yeah, I know what you are thinking...then why take dance lessons? See, I am the type of person who wants to be elegant and graceful but in reality is the type who can break a leg standing still in a parking lot. Yeah, the one who clearly was standing in the popcorn line when God passed out grace. But, I figured, once I mastered the basics, IF I master the basics, I would love to be able to dance...someday. You now, the day that comes right after the 12th of probably never. But it is fun and good exercise so I was perfectly happy in PRIVATE lessons.

The dance was so far beyond my comfort level there isn't even a scale that high. Get all dressed up in formal attire and then learn a dance with a whole group of strangers, all of whom clearly have been dancing for years. Plus due to Hubs never being on time for anything, arrive late and miss the first set of instructions. Oh, and be pushed into the advanced group since the beginner class was full. Nope, no room for disaster here. Being spread-eagled on a delivery table naked with your junk wide open for a room full of medical students to watch another guy reach into your pelvis up to his elbow was less embarrassing. At least having a baby doesn't require heels that cripple you. Plus you can usually score drugs.

Much like high school, at least for us geeks, a "practice party" must be done sober.

After suffering through most of the lesson I finally quit since there was as much chance of mastering the Viennese waltz in 30 minutes as there was of my playing professional football. As a linebacker. So I quietly ducked out and wished for Scotty to please beam me up!

Alas, once the lesson portion was over they opened up the floor to actual dancing. Almost immediately Hubs was snagged by some lady and off they whirled. Fred, unlike me, does not suffer from performance anxiety. He is perfectly at home in situations like this. Of course the only thing worse than getting asked to dance is NOT getting asked, so as I was weighing the odds of stepping out and spending the rest of the night doing something very mature like hiding in the car, my instructor Isaac stepped up and asked me to dance. I politely declined and explained with a grin that my instructor hadn't shown me this dance yet. To which he grinned and held out his hand. "Right, that's what I'm going to do." Oh crap! My "I don't know this dance" excuse wouldn't work on my instructor! Now what to do???

While I was wondering whether to fake appendicitis or actually break a leg, I forgot to panic and as usual he was so calm and easy going, that before I knew it he had me doing the Cha-cha. Sort of.

Despite one utterly humiliating dance with the visiting instructor when he begged me to quit trying and just walk backward, the night ended on a mostly positive note. I only had two smashed toes, and my pride had only been battered to a pulp, probably not a terminal injury, so all in all, I can't wait to do it again.

When you know where freezes, that is!

Tinsel Town Packing

The last of the Christmas decorations are down in the house and everything is shoved into, I mean packed up into, closets once again.

Of course our super obnoxiously bright and musical lights are still going strong. Yeah, we are those people. Like you didn't know that already, right?

Anyway, as much as I enjoy getting all the glitter and decorations up there is something very satisfying about putting it away as well. Probably because it is the only project that actually gets completely done at our house. Usually most things get sort of done, or done with what my grandma used to call a "lick and a prayer." Which near as I can figure means you do a pathetic job and pray nobody notices, or at least hope they pretend like they don't.

Christmas de-decorating is like pregnancy. It either is Christmas or it isn't. It is a finite job. Unlike laundry which reproduces aerobically thereby insuring that if there is oxygen available dirty clothes are reproducing faster than viruses on a dirty sink. You NEVER do all the laundry. It is impossible. I know. I tried. The kids still talk about the time they weren't allowed to get out of the tub for 5 hours just so I could say there was NO dirty laundry. Anywhere. Same goes for dishes. There is always a cup or spoon lurking around just waiting for the wash cycle to be more than 1/2 done to pop out and sneer at you. Dusting is so pointless I don't even attempt to keep up. We just double up on Claritin in this house.

Right. Now that I have literally and figuratively aired the dirty laundry I can get to the point. While I enjoy the return of "normal" as much as the next person I always hate when people yank down everything 16 minutes after unwrapping the presents. Heathens get a free pass since they may not know about Epiphany or why you are supposed to leave everything up until Jan 6th.

But people start putting stuff up mid-October so no wonder they get sick of it. In our fast paced life everything is hurry, hurry, do-ahead. Retail stores live in terror that we might not over spend on junk we don't need and thus they seldom wait til one holiday is over before attempting to separate us from our money for the next one. I wonder what would happen if we all boycotted stores that put up displays more than 1 month ahead?

Next up-my views on world peace, economics, and nutrition. That way when I rule the world you will know what to expect.

Also I will post the address where you can send letters to me once I am committed.