What is that THING on your face?!

If you follow me on Twitter (And why wouldn't you?), you might have seen me tweeting about the thing on my face yesterday. For those of you who don't follow me on Twitter (Shame on you!), you're probably wondering, what thing? Well, I'll tell ya. Those who are faint of heart may want to look away.

I had a growth above my right eyebrow. And by "growth," I mean that plate tectonics have been at work on my forehead, pushing up a mountainous mass for all the world to see. It's true. Mountain climbers have been staring at my growth and charting their courses.

I had the odd feeling that I was being followed by satellites, only to find that indeed, I was trending on Google Earth. Yes, the thing was huge. (It was the size of the end of a pencil eraser.) And it was all scaly and disgusting. Japanese people would point at it, screaming, "Godzirra!" and run away. Young children would cower in fear. It was just bad.

So I made a call and set up an appointment at the dermatologist.

I went in for that appointment yesterday. I think I scared the nurses, because I kept hearing, "For the love of Gumby! What IS that thing?!" Anyway, the nurse who drew the short straw finally came in, trying to avert her eyes, and set up a tray of assorted needles, knives, hammers, chisels and dynamite for the doctor to use on my procedure. When the doctor came in, I bravely watched as she took the giant square needle and came at my face with it. (I totally closed my eyes. That needle really was huge.) I struggled to remain conscious during the hours she toiled, trying with all her might to remove the offending growth. (It took about a minute and a half. I did feel pretty dizzy though.) The crater that was left was at least the size of 12 city blocks.

After being heavily bandaged (one of those little round bandaids), I was sent on my way. I thought I heard something about sending the growth to Area 51 for testing while I was walking out, but I can't really be sure. (It's being sent to a lab for testing. I don't know when I'll get the results.) Later that night, my eye was swollen so much I looked like I'd been in a fight. I kept yelling, "Adrian!", but no one came running. Go figure. (It really did swell up. I slept sitting up so it wouldn't swell shut overnight.) Clearly, I was ready for the Mrs. America pageant. So pretty...

Well, there you have it. All the sordid details. If I hear anything back from Area 51, or if I notice black helicopters in whisper mode flying over my house, I'll let you know. I'm sure you'll be waiting with bated breath.

Everything in this post is completely true. Except for the parts that aren't.

Your nose is running - better go catch it!

I went to dinner tonight with my family to celebrate my niece's 11th birthday (Happy Birthday Bubba!) and during the conversation, my blog came up. Always helpful, my dad suggested that I post tonight about kids and runny noses. I had a different topic planned earlier today, but for the life of me, I can't remember what it was. So, runny noses it is. Ick.

I find it odd that kids seem to really like tissues, but refuse to use them for their intended purpose. It's just so much fun to empty the tissue box! My daughter is able to come up with all kinds of things to do with the tissues other than blowing her nose with them. No, that job goes to the back of her hand, leaving a lovely "snot rash" across her face. It really gets my gag reflex going...

Of course, we were all like that when we were kids. Once, when I was young, my mom asked me for a kiss. I went and gave her a kiss, after which she said, "That sure was a wet kiss!" My reply? "That's because my nose is running!" Ah yes, good times...