Peace

  Sometimes you need to write in pink or green or purple. I prefer pink. And you just gotta go with the flow of what's going on around you. Me? I need to be reviewing my html (yes, I know, easy but still not my native language), but my brain is shot. I just put the last critter to bed. Baba and Clanpaw are watching their movie at volume level 100 which, on a set of Bose speakers will launch you from the sofa if you're not tethered down. It also obliterates all thought--especially the Zydeco movie score. Passion Fish is the movie, I think.

  I considered getting all freaked out about finals, my web page term project, my papers, and my upcoming clinicals, and moving everything out to the office for the night. But, I'd just have to move it back in come morning. So, "heck with" as Lillian would say. I'm watching the deafening movie. Dang is it loud. It is actually a good movie, but not one I'd watch all over again.

  This week zoomed by. I can't really account for it other than to say I've done a lot of presentations of papers/research. I listened to a lot of presentations/research. Next week will be more of same. By next week, this web page will be a blip on the radar and we'll be full into finals week--thank goodness! I'm ready to end this semester and get on to a new one. After all, I do have a plan. Yes, I do...

  And we have more seedlings to go in the ground tomorrow. There will be muddy boys to bathe and hungry mouths around every corner. As for cars, it looks like we are at a pause in the action with regard to breakage. The alternator on the van has been replaced and all is well once again. Thank goodness my old truck is running! Go, Whitey! Nine gazillion other errands have to be run as well. Better add those to the list...


Typical day around here...
Scat
  

Another Great Weekend Hipstamatic Style

Also titled as "Random, Random, Random..." or "Yes, I'm iPhone's (red hula-dancing emojicon here)...still...and ASUS, too."

  I lingered in Green Acres today in hopes that the UPS ground deliveryman would bring my new lappie directly to my front door. Alas, it was not to be so. I was out-of doors waggling about using my new Hipstamatic app for my iPhone. You really must get it if you have any inkling of what it was like to use actual film in a camera and different flashes, etc. It is a satisfying thing for me because I still remember learning to use my mother's Brownie. This app is fabulous and very inexpensive for the results. I shall be using my Hipstamatic for weeks if not years. You will have to jump up and down to get a regular, plain-old digital photo. I mean, really, look at these!!

The effects! The water! Ah! Love! Happy Plants!

The cuteness...well, he came with that, but WOW!

  So, good day for photography and I have yet to solve the mystery of Salvia. Buddy Scat asks me if they are the same species of Salvia that are hallucinogenic. Salvia d---something which I have forgotten but shall look up again. I said "surely not," but then who knows...where was I? Ah, yes, I digress. Waiting for the lappie and hoping for the usual driver.

  It has been so long since I've seen our usually UPS driver that I don't think she exists. The days of actually not worrying about it have been way long gone...WAY LONG GONE. Boo UPS boo. So, I spent the day out-of-doors. No crime there. I made one turn through town looking for brown, but alas they were not there. Tick tock tick tock. Putter putter putter. Packing the car. Muttering to self and discussing the philosophy of Facebook with Buddy Scat when I hear a truck rumbling thusly forward. Yay!

  UPS truck approaches driveway (too fast) and Buddy begins waving arms. In a split second, I see two days of driving back and forth in an attempt to get the mis-delivered lappie while limping along without it and, not to be outdone my hindbrain decides I can catch me this truck. I beat feet. On asphalt and through grass while waving. In a dress. I got to the street and lost the truck. I look down the hill to see which way Buddy is pointing and tear off. UPS must have turned around in a drive way, 'cause he ends up coming straight at me. I stop in the middle of the road. No UPS truck is driving me over today. I want my darned machine. NOW.

  Very young, slightly amused driver hands over my box. He looks at me like I'm unstable, but darn it I'm tired of waiting the extra two days for the "substitute driver" to not see my well marked address, attempt a 2nd failed delivery, and leave it at drop-ship for pick-up in Nameless Town. I NEED TO WORK. And blog. We made a sign at the road just for UPS!!! How can they NOT see it? When we know somethings coming, we have to put our ears to the ground and wait. THEN chase down the truck like a rabid pit bull. Unnecessary. And dangerous to boot. I burnt the whey out of my feet. I had forgotten how hot asphalt gets.

  This semester is drawing to a close. I've formed a close bond with Kevin and Mary and the other Mary. Sounds Biblical, I know, but they're two Marys and one is Mary Corder and the other is the other Mary because I keep misplacing her last name. Tonight's public health topic was death and dying. We discussed our current society's taboos on dying and death and how we do not as a society accept death and a natural end or continuation of life.

   You who have been reading me know that we have been dealing with cancer at my house and so, yes, death has come up. It was interesting to see how, within my intimate family, there was the avoidance of the topic of death. There is so much we could discuss that would make the actual process of dying and eventual death easier for the dying person and their family (that would be me).

  It made me glad that I started this pitifully unpopular blog one year ago (or so, I think) because it will leave behind my thoughts and a little taste of who I am for the people who love me the most and for my kids who, as kids, will have such a hard time get to know me their parent as a human being with thoughts, ideas, crazy moments, dreams, and loves. And I love nothing more than those two.

  Mary and the other Mary and I must make plans to get together. Mary is going on to nursing school. I will need her and her counseling skills (she is also a licensed counselor) at my free clinic. The other Mary is the free cause, fundraiser sort--which I can, but quite frankly abhor--I'll definitely need her help as well. Kevin is going to finish his masters in public health...will need him too. NO, I haven't told them or anyone other than you about my crazy idea, but I shall...soon.

  Did I mention the new lappie...SMOKIN'!!!! Asus Core i5 Intel chip, DDR3 memory (4G now, but soon 8), 64 bit, Windows 7, 17.3" screen, 3-1 card reader, HDR port, webcam, 4 USB slots, nice easy-to-find-size DC male wall charger, HD 1G graphics card, super-multi (dual-sided DVD-R+lightscribe) drive, Altec Lansing speakers, 1 year accidental (drop, spill, fire) warranty, 2 year parts/labor....$945. From Newegg.com  Not a better deal out there. For fun, we have been trying to "tax" it, but so far it outpaces my workstation...uh huh...joy!

  Thus beginneth the week I am required to create a website. It's a term project (due the 2nd of May) for the computer class that I have to take as a Texas schools requirement. I was a geek and tested out of everything first time around, but now everybody wants at least three hours of computer, so I took Intro to Computers thinking it would be that easy. And it was a cakewalk. Until now. Can I tell you how very much I do NOT want to create a website? Okay, I shall. I'd rather sit in public health lectures naked for a month and go without Dr. Pepper forever than do this assignment. "ACK!" you shriek in horror. "Yes, I know!" This is serious. What makes it that much more irritating is that it is on a topic of our choosing. I know, sounds good, but wait...there must be research...x number of tables, 2 interviews, a chart, and excel spreadsheet, and a PowerPoint presentation...and they must all be related.

  Not a big deal you say. No. But I wrote four papers this weekend alone and have at least two others due next week as well. Add one last Gross practical and an A&P exam and FINALS. This is all going to happen in two weeks from today. You'd think she'd give us the info and let us do the creating because that is, after all, what the class is about. No.

  I whineth. 

Now to crack open (and I mean crack) the old lappie and see can the darn thing be welded...

Then to some lucky person go the spoils...
Probably to Attrition (the hoarder of all things computerifically hoardable)

Scat

The Weirdest People Live Here...

     I was leaning over the deck railing last night looking at Squib's latest driveway art and saw what you see above. Time was when I'd get my keester blistered for writing on the house, but here we are later taking notes on it. Not THIS we, but the other ones that run around unsupervised while I'm away during the week.

    Which...brings to mind what must have been the whole point of Squib's line of inquiry last night. "Mommy can I write on the steps?" Uh, the steps the to the deck, no. We do NOT write on the house....then in a random photo of my toe (yes, the original shot is of my toe--the little pink thing there) I discover that, in fact "we" do write on the house and he was asking me "since Clanpaw writes on the house, can I write on the house, too?" Raising children here has its challenges. "No, honey, you may not write on the house. I realize Clanpaw wrote on the house, but the rules are different for YOU." No, that won't fly. Uh, let's see. "I realize Clanpaw wrote on the house, but he's nuts and you aren't." No, Clanpaw won't like that at all. Uh, help me now I'm running out of options, "The elves made him do it!!! Just say no!!!" That would freak Squib out completely. And I really hate using "because I said so."

   So, alas, we are at a standoff. I think I left it at "No...(contortions of the face)...ugh...I just...NO. No more writing on the house by anyone." Where did I put that sander? I'm gonna fix this now...

Whodathunkit...
Scat

I Should, Perhaps, Have Named Him Leaf Blower...

This is Beanstalk the leaf blower. He is most fascinated by leaves and debris. Twigs, leaves, branches--the bigger the better--all become objects of great joy once he discovers them. His height and length of limb makes waggling a long branch rather fun, I would imagine. Being short and...short...I would not know, but in his hands a branch is an extension of the arm and it's like an extended appendage that can wave and whip and terrorize the villagers. This makes him laugh and grin and shriek with glee. It makes me grateful for my skull bones. My nose has not always fared so well.

When the debris is in a pile, well, there must be diving. Jumping, rolling, and kicking of those expensive ankles and whacking and whooshing of piles of leaves. He has quite a swat and grass and leaves levitate and pieces hang from his hair and eyebrows. Only additional water would make this more fun. He and Squib are identical in this way. Perhaps only happier if the dirt and muck are physically ground into their pores.

Beanstalk shows more "grown-up" signs. He wears pants, for one. He likes baths. With music. He has clothing preferences that are distinct and considerably more fashionable. Squib still pulls his T-shirt down around his waist (yes, the neck around the waist) on occasion like a skirt and runs about in pull-ups and a tee with Crocs. Abhors the shower like nature a vacuum. This can dictate his social preferences. Beanstalk has, well, style. Some would argue that this was always imposed on him by one or the other of his parents, but his parents will tell you that he has distinct likes and dislikes and definitely his own "look." And thank goodness shirt-tucking isn't required anywhere! E-gads.

And I thought raising boys would be "easier."
Scat

One Dead Laptop

OK...one laptop down the tubes. Yes, my data is backed up. I didn't lose anything unless you include convenience, money, hours, and several other things including my sanity. So...I ordered a new laptop and am seriously light some cash. I hesitated when starting the car in fear that the electronic/expensive items might be in cahoots. They do that on occasion. But, the car started! Phew! And stayed started!

And now I have one very large, expensive coaster...
Paperweight...
Booster Seat...
Texas Mosquito Smasher...

Scat

Nice, Slow Weekend (Picture Style)

Pulling slowly into the driveway. Yes, that's a house down there (not really visible from the road).

Azalea and Salvia for the new front flower bed. That's what we did Friday morning. 

Watch out for this guy, he's "stary" according to Squib. But, like the rest of us, he comes with the house.

Our local artist. He assures me all 52 colors are being put to good use.

My favorite of this weekend's pieces.

You never know what you'll find at the end of a path...two of them, no less!

You know you've had fun when you're THIS DIRTY!

Chalk-face makes you look like you've been beaten when you're really just serious about your work.

Green Acres goes to sleep...

And now off to the concrete jungle...

Scat

A Good Place To Come Home To

     When you come over the hill and down the drive at the end of a long week, THIS is what you want to see isn't it? This is my yard. The whole dang place is like this in varying degrees of wildness and pretty much thirty minutes out you're staring at this kind of landscape the WHOLE WAY. I really cannot see how on earth I could ever move to another place with a yard the size of a postage stamp and neighbors I can actually hear. Well, I can and I can't. It's a struggle at times. By the way, when you look at this, you are staring right at two of my neighbors. They're within an acre or two give-or-take, but you just...can't...tell...

     The view comes with ambiance. Your really kinda need a trusty old truck--one that is running for no reason at all. It holds all your stuff. It hit 100,000 a long time ago and just kept on going. It gives you something to ponder and discuss on the front porch. The oldness makes it OK that there are permanent boxes of stuff living (neatly) in it. The windows need to go up and down easily because there is usually a five to ten degree difference in temperatures here than in Houston proper and humidity is also lower and somehow (I don't know how) the windows just need to come open (one of our trucks you still have to roll the window down yourself). It also helps to have kids around. They are good props for when you need to look like you have a reason to run around the house (literally) and lay in the grass. Watch for ants. Ant watching is a rarefied hobby out here. You will need music. My personal favorite is this gal: http://www.youtube.com/user/laurieberknervideos  and "Walk Along the River" is one of my favorites. There is a lot of singing and dancing around here and if you watch this video, this is pretty much what it looks like. Our family is a family of musicians and scientists (usually both) and one dancer (me...well, there's Beanstalk) so music and science are viewed as equally important.

     If I could meet only one person in the entire world...and only one...it would be Laurie Berkner. I have listened to her music now for seven years and it DOES NOT MATTER what is going on in my life--and I have mustered up some pretty miserable circumstances in my time--this girl can write music that makes me smile and sing and dance and be happy. No matter what. It is sold as "kid music." Bunk. Buy it. Memorize it. Put it on every device you own. It will make you happy. She's GOT to be one special lady and if she isn't I DON'T EVER WANT TO KNOW!!!!

     Today was a good day. A "threshold" day. Many things accomplished, goals pushed through. New goals acquired. I am unbelievably insane in the "goals" department. It's genetic. So I have given in. The next goal is in mind and the next three-four years are optimistically planned out. Yes, I realize things can change and I am always open to that, but I have goals nonetheless. The bar is high. There is an unbelievable price tag on parts of it. (Dear God, can we please hit oil with our first test well??!!) I have no idea how some of that is even going to come together. Like--commuting to the medical center for three years...riiiiiggghhhht. I have NEVER known those kinds of things. I just have faith that if I am to go in a certain direction that the doors will close and/or open in the right places. Closed v. Open is just semantics like that "glass half empty/full" crap. My answer is "500 mLs is 500 mLs whether you just poured it all in or just poured some out. I can't really do anything about the part I don't have so why worry?"  No one really asks me those kinds of questions anymore--unless they don't know me.

     Most of the people who know me observe that I laugh, sing, and play a lot and am very happy. And you just never know what I'm going to say next. But they also say that they also thought I was very serious and knew very little about that side of me until they were "around." I just don't say much about it. Guess I should. Happiness is something that just IS when it IS. I think that's got something to do with how something, anything, could exist even before time began. It just WAS. The things I mull over, write about, and ponder are the things that are so much harder for me to understand and accept. I do not accept unhappiness. Yes, life gets frustrating and things can really suck at times, but is that really the way things have to be? No. Well over 90% of the "battle" is perspective. And it is a battle.

     Perspective is hard. Just look at my term papers for this semester. The topics are (in no particular order): Euthanasia (legalizing it or not), Eating Disorders, Dieting (an evaluation of some particularly popular diets), Leprosy, and Publication Infringement. If there were five horsemen of the apocalypse...well, those would be them. That's what I get to finish up over this weekend. Such joyful fodder for thought. Geesh. There are things to study that lead to positive mental health, but quite frankly no one studies those (ok, no one in my current sphere of experience). Which is, in my opinion, why no one has any. Mental health, that is.

     This is what Squib had to say today about our week when I picked him up after my last class:

SQB:  You still stink....but you smell different. (I had to think about that...mixture of human/cat/pig...hmmm)

ME: It's been a looooooong week. Let's go hoooooome. But first we'll stop by Wal-mart and while we're there we can get you something special since you've put up with me all semester.

SQB:  Can we get a purple and a (sic) orange marker?

ME:   Maybe even a whole pack of markers. (I love it when he asks for things that way...he's so...specific).

SQB:  And apples? (Because apples are such a delicacy like a coffee from Starbuck's, but I love that he     thinks this).

ME:  Yes, you can even pick out the apples yourself.

SQB: Wow. Did Buddy make damage this week? (Buddy has been clearing the trumpet vine from our land one tendril at a time. Good riddance. Makes me itch to think of it. Squib calls it "the damage" and takes great pleasure in burning it. Male fire ritual and all that).

ME: Yes, you are going to have to build a big fire tomorrow. And there will be lots of digging in the morning.

SQB: Yessssssss.

ME:  Buddy wants to eat dinner at a restaurant, is that ok?

SQB: A westawant??!!! Yea! (He ate nothing, but did lick up a serious amount of ketchup. The rest of us had fabulous shrimp Greek pasta at this place in Willis, TX that is delicious!).

ME: Do you want to listen to music?

SQB: Yes. Loud, please. I will dance and play drums with markers (in my car...which is why it is OLD).

ME: At the same time? Performance art.

SQB: (The look on his face was like...."Duh, mom...")

     And I was treated to a private rear-view mirror dance recital to my favorite song and he danced and danced until he literally fell asleep mid-dance. He woke up long enough to literally ask me if he could stay up longer. I said "sure" and put him down on the couch where he promptly fell asleep.

And now, so shall I...
Scat

We Almost Killed Each Other! What's New?

I had an end-of-year practical to study for. He had a stay-at-home, lounge-in-the-sun, run-around-in-your-same-old-underpants-and-be-silly plan in mind. I laid my things out and tried to focus. He threw stuff around, jumped in my notebooks, and drew me little animals and octopus-looking things with googley eyeballs. I gave him focused activities to do. He did them, but sang, hopped, jumped, and made up ridiculous songs the whole time. He asked me to draw pictures. I did. I drew the four muscles of the quadriceps and he was not amused. I showed him how a dissected frog leg looked and that it would still "jump" if you applied a little electrical stimulus. That was cool. He asked what the scientific name for the belly button was and would you believe (other than having heard it referred to as the umbilicus) that I tried to look it up and all I came up with was "belly button." He laughed. He wanted to swing and I wanted to see the sun, so we went out and found a dark cloud over the back yard. He slid once. It thundered dimly. I chafed. He attached himself to my leg and the afternoon was over. I asked him when he was going to stop being afraid of thunder. He said never. He said I smelled funny and my hair looked silly. I told him I was using peppermint oil to help breathe at night. He said, "you smell like Christmas. Go take a bath." I wanted to. He didn't want to be left "alone" in the thunder. He wanted to eat fruit loops and raisins. I grimaced. He offered to eat an apple first, so I said OK as long as he also had some milk. I reminded him I needed to study. He asserted that I did not. I asserted that I did. He asked why (oh cripes)? I tried the "well, it's sort of my job now" approach and he is not a believer. Buddy called and offered to take him out to mess around and he burst into tears saying "Don't leave me!!!" and "I don't want to go!!" so vehemently I felt like I had already abandoned him for life and Buddy refused to come. He flung himself on his bed. I told him he was a lot like me. He told me to go away. And CLOSE THE DOOR! He is only four. I am in fear of fourteen. I finally got that shower and a few hours of studying. He slept until five and emerged angelically requesting another apple and some carrots and some of my orange juice. And maybe some more raisins. I asked him who he was and what had he done with my son. He looked at me like I was nuts (that's normal). I drew him a picture and said that if he wrote the word for it, I would draw him another one. He is a skeptic. I am a sucker.  We drew for an hour and listened to music. He remembered that he had only seen one hour of TV today (for THIS he counts). I told him he'd still live. He is uncertain. We drew for another hour. Dad came to whisk him off to steak night with Grammy and Grandad. An innumerable amount of kisses later, they left and I will see him tomorrow. We will start all over. He will do his best to make it through the day. I will attempt not to kill him. This is a typical day with Squib.

Beanstalk glances over from his latest opera...Bocelli or somebody...thank GOD for bit torrents...rolls his eyes and probably KNOWS Squib and I are both idiots. Or at the very least uncultured swine. We like Van Halen...eeee yew. He would like  his sun-dried tomato bread with Parmesan and red grapes now please. And throw in some flattened chicken! Somewhere, under his bed, bottles of wine are chilling and aging for his 21st birthday.

He is usually right...Beanstalk, that is.
Scat

Sometimes I Feel Like Running

Not running away or anything like that...

I just get cagey. Cooped up. Too long indoors. Too much time in a classroom...and really too much time in a lab. Where the windows don't open and the doors always lock behind you and in front of you--for safety reasons. They don't even really try to introduce plants or, say, sunshine so I'm looking, well, albinic (if that's a word).

And I have misplaced my running shoes...or, somebody has...hmm...driving with the windows open is only going to work so long. I wonder how many hours of swinging replace other physical activity?

Squib has a new swingset...so, new plan. Swing, cram for anatomy practical, and soak up sunlight tomorrow.

Maybe a nap...but not for me...
Scat

Making Decisions

Well, there's nothing like a good round of cathartic decision-making to scare the bejeezus out of you. I am constantly reevaluating my current educational path and decided to give it another hard think. I realized that my current path was challenging only from a time-constraint perspective and had the major fault of potentially being less effective than I knew I could be if I chose my next path which I can only refer to as the "I told you so" path.

You see, plan A was to end up with my Nurse Practitioner's license and Paramedics license and retreat to my small town (and a couple other interests) that need my help and expertise. I realized, though that the NP track was going to take me longer and have fewer opportunities for financial aid and less independence than, say, PA school. Never mind that my primary spiritual advisor told me to go to PA school three years ago. I mean, really, what does he know?! Uncannily, he really does seem to hear quite a lot and had I listened to him I'd be done with it all now and have my clinic open and growing.

So, here I am three years late and it's the faster, cheaper option. So here I go. I have to take the MCAT again (mine's got to be too old)and see what else I lack course-wise and where I have options to go. It's not that drastic of a change, but will implement med-school-like conditions around my house for about two or so years and one holy-hell-of-a-commute. Yuck. Thank goodness for family. I hope my kids forgive me for the absence, but as a parent in need of options for paying for things long-term, I gotta get some things going here. Perhaps when they're eight and eleven they'll forgive me for having my head crammed in a book for most of their early childhood years. Love those kids. Or I would just get a job at the grocery store. Ok, no, too boring, but you get my drift. Gosh I hope my mind continues to work...

Waitin' for things to gel...
Scat

UH...yeah...Andrew.

     Woke up stupid today.

     Stupider than is average for me. Forgot what biotin was. Not exactly...I knew it was one of the B-complex vitamins, but got in to the U to make up a test today and had to answer an essay question regarding the co-enzyme activity of biotin and completely clammed up. Just completely had no access to not only years of education, but research and geez...my brain. MY BRAIN!!!!

     This is my brain on kids!!! And a few other things...

     Biotin...like forgetting how to put on socks or getting your underwear on backwards.

     So I did what every sane person does when they have 24 hours to make up three days of exams. I called my friend Dana and went out. I haven't "been out" in, well, hmm...a very, very long time. Over a year. And now, after a split of champagne, a caramel machiato, some very good Italian food and one waiter's phone number (which he gave to Dana, too, because he is either very hopeful or just a statistician) I can answer that biotin question in my sleep. Which is what I'm gonna do next...sleep.

     ...and his name was Andrew. Andrew the waiter with a weird fantasy life...I guess.

Scat

The Puck Stops Here

     Not the buck, but the puck.  If, in fact, the buck stopped here, many things would be different. I would not be slapping this ever-loving puck from one end of the rink to the other with such wicked consumption just trying to keep it in play. Not really trying to win anymore as much as I'm trying to prevent days like today when I end up with one cheek to the ice watching the puck spin slowly around once...twice...a third slow turn...and then crash slowly to a flat halt against the ice two inches from the tip of my nose. Down. Hard.

     I blink, but only in slow motion. My eyes can't focus. My mind can only think one thought: "This is reeeally gonna hurt when I try to get up." Then, "do any of those teeth belong to me?" It's the quick one-two sucker punch of life and before you know it, you're down and gasping for air.

     Life seems to become, at times, this brutal contact sport.  My gears are stripping and my body physically is giving up at times and I keep losing plates that I'm supposed to be spinning somewhere or that puck spins to a halt and I push up on my elbows and knees, but a knee falters and I go flat. And just for a bit, yes, the puck stops here. Not in any sort of authoritative manner, though. The game cannot go on. I leave the ice carried off the ice by my bruised and bloodied teammates and we mop each other up, assess our team and our stores and see what we've got to keep ourselves going. If anything.  Then we step back out onto the ice. Always.

     Today, I drove to Round Rock, TX to say goodbye to a friend of a friend who committed suicide last week.  This is the third suicide to touch my life in about as many months. Yes, three. Like a storm of discouragement descending on my life and infesting the lives of those I love. I have to say, though, that the service was beautiful. The deceased's cousin is a priest and a dynamic speaker...he was a joy to listen to. Not your traditional Catholic. More of a catholic (little c). I'm not going to clarify, so some research may be required on your part for that one. Full of hope and joy and love. He held that service together in a way I have not seen since the likes of my grandfather Jackson (Baptist minister not Catholic, but known to deliver Catholic mass upon request as he ministered in a very rural area).

     I prayed much for DKH-V as this was how she lost her beloved hubby.  In fact, it was the motivating factor behind our pilgrimage...to offer a knowing connection to JKK's wife when she begins to come to grips with the fact that her hubby took his own life. It is a rarified group. D felt so moved to go that it was a no-brainer in my mind. D has been through it, so she has the value of sympathy versus empathy and that makes ALL the difference.

    The day reminded me so of burying my uncle Gary and much was running around in my head, but in the midst of all this tragedy a flower bloomed...I had a wonderful time getting to know D better! What a rarity of a woman to find in our little (microscopic) town! Wisdom of years forced on her by experience, of course, but nevertheless, she has opened her heart to so many from so many backgrounds and persuasions...maybe that's my favorite thing about her. That or she's like me and her gourmet soup comes from a can at Kroger! She makes being my real self so easy even though she's such a confident and on-the-ball type which I am, too, but not in the same situations. Anyone who whips out a color-safe bleach pen in an Italian restaurant to remove a well-placed marinara drip is my kinda people! Come as you are! You will be loved!

     Tomorrow, I intend to launch from the sofa, rip off my iPod and eyemask (Drea could NOT have given me a better gift) and slap that ever-lovin' puck clean into the opposing goal! And maybe for a bit, the puck WON'T stop here for a change and that feeling that someone's been kicking my dog will ease off.

RIP James...you were loved.
Scat
 

How Sick Do We Have To Be?

     Well, perhaps sicker...

     We're ordering Cipro by the vat--not kidding. 200-500mg pills showed up this week from Canada at the behest of our family doc. We're dividing it up as instructed. And swallowing it dutifully. Yum. Yum. Yum. Ceftin for the little guy. He's starting to get tired of it. At first it was the wonderful fruity goodness and now on day fifteen when he's still sick at his stomach and hacking his head off, the fruity goodness can take a hike. No one feels good. Sinusitis, broken teeth, strep throat, root canals, and run-of-the-mill allergies and all that. Clanpaw and his HDK+HC (high dose ketaconazole plus hydrocortizone) therapy are moving right along, but he's getting "tired" and refusing to take naps because it  is an "idle thing." What are we? Quakers?

     Baba is probably the most ecstatic because she's still "on track" for her boob job. Whatever the heck that means at this point. This is the LONGEST boob job in history. And with Clanpaw in a treatment plan, her perspective that she's has to/going to die first is now in tact again. NO, I don't understand the boob job versus wanting to die first...sort of defies logic at this point. But, she's happy. Happy-er. That makes exactly one of us when it comes to the big "c" around here.

     And, of course, you have probably noticed my humor has gone south. Distinctly south.

When will it end...
Scat