Every day, he comes home from school and announces that he is hungry. He eats. Then he commences eating continuously from then until dinner. I'm not kidding. I'll make him spaghetti with red sauce after school most days. Then he'll have goldfish. Then ice cream. Then some almonds. Then it's dinner time.
How can he eat this much and not have a hole in the bottom of his leg? Or be 300 pounds??????? Instead he's this tiny thing. I sure wish I had that metabolism. Sigh.
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Best boy in the world
I'm not sure how it happened, but I have the best kid in the world. He does whatever I tell him to do without EVER having to ask him twice, and he doesn't ever complain. The other day I had ten tons of crap piled up on the stairs that needed to be taken upstairs, and so I asked him to do it. He came downstairs and did it. No "MOMMMMMM, do I HAVE to?". He just came down and did it. If I ask him to unload the dishwasher, he just does it. If I ask him to fold up a load of laundry, he does it. (mind you, not very well but hey, beggars can't be choosers).
How did I get this lucky?
How did I get this lucky?
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Eulogy for my grandma
RIP Grandma, 2/11/1927-2/5/2012
My grandma could yodel, play the spoons and even after living “up north” for 30 years, still had a delicious residual southern accent. The highlight of our summers as children was when my brother and I would spend a week at her house. Our three cousins lived in the same town, and the 5 of us got up to much mischief together – albeit under Grandma’s watchful eye.
One summer, we five cousins were out playing in the woods behind her house, when we saw her put two piping hot, delicious pies in the kitchen window to cool. Stomachs growling, we circled outside like jackals, around and around, knowing that we would not be allowed to have pie until dessert at dinner later on. Poor impulse control coupled with even poorer judgment caused us to decide that Grandma probably wouldn’t notice if one pie just happened to go missing. Quickly, before we lost our nerve, my brother hoisted me up on my cousin’s shoulders, and I stole one pie right out off the windowsill. Running pell mell into the woods, we proceeded to eat the pie like wild animals, afterwards washing off our hands in the creek (pronounced “crick” in her accent). Later when we were called in to supper, we sat anxiously waiting for Grandma to say something about the missing pie. Much to our relief, not one word was spoken about the pie. We’d fooled her!
Grandma sewed lovely outfits for me – one year she made me a Sesame Street Cookie Monster long dress. She crocheted amazing blankets and stitched beautiful quilts. She never went anywhere without “her face on” – she took pride in looking her best no matter if we were just running to the post office or to the “dime store”. As the only girl grandchild, I got to play with her makeup, lotions, perfumes and substantial costume jewelry collection. I would put on her jewelry, wear her makeup, clomp around in her heels and pretend to be grown up while I eagerly listened to her life stories.
When I was in college, she and I took a long road trip down through southern Illinois and Kentucky were her kin folk were from, and where she was born and raised – Fredonia, Kentucky. We deeply bonded on that trip and it remains one of the highlights of my life. But it was also when the first whispers of Alzheimer’s came calling – only no one recognized them at that time. She would constantly check if the doors on the car were locked. She would constantly lose her purse. She would repeat stories and sentences verbatim to me over and over again. We all chalked it up to being quirky and normal aging at the time. But we were wrong.
Over the years, Alzheimer’s became more obvious: paranoia, anger, forgetfulness, and ultimately the inability to function independently. A move to live with my mom came first, then to an assisted living, then finally to a nursing home. Alzheimer’s slowly slithered in and stole away my Grandma. The disease took her personality, her intellect, and then finally her very essence, leaving her body bare of its soul. My mom, my aunt and Grandma’s sister have lovingly tended to her over the years, enduring the heartbreak of seeing their mother and sister slowly vanish. She has been gone in reality for a long, long time, but now her body is finally gone too. Farewell Grandma. I love you, and I know that you are finally whole again.
My grandma could yodel, play the spoons and even after living “up north” for 30 years, still had a delicious residual southern accent. The highlight of our summers as children was when my brother and I would spend a week at her house. Our three cousins lived in the same town, and the 5 of us got up to much mischief together – albeit under Grandma’s watchful eye.
One summer, we five cousins were out playing in the woods behind her house, when we saw her put two piping hot, delicious pies in the kitchen window to cool. Stomachs growling, we circled outside like jackals, around and around, knowing that we would not be allowed to have pie until dessert at dinner later on. Poor impulse control coupled with even poorer judgment caused us to decide that Grandma probably wouldn’t notice if one pie just happened to go missing. Quickly, before we lost our nerve, my brother hoisted me up on my cousin’s shoulders, and I stole one pie right out off the windowsill. Running pell mell into the woods, we proceeded to eat the pie like wild animals, afterwards washing off our hands in the creek (pronounced “crick” in her accent). Later when we were called in to supper, we sat anxiously waiting for Grandma to say something about the missing pie. Much to our relief, not one word was spoken about the pie. We’d fooled her!
Grandma sewed lovely outfits for me – one year she made me a Sesame Street Cookie Monster long dress. She crocheted amazing blankets and stitched beautiful quilts. She never went anywhere without “her face on” – she took pride in looking her best no matter if we were just running to the post office or to the “dime store”. As the only girl grandchild, I got to play with her makeup, lotions, perfumes and substantial costume jewelry collection. I would put on her jewelry, wear her makeup, clomp around in her heels and pretend to be grown up while I eagerly listened to her life stories.
When I was in college, she and I took a long road trip down through southern Illinois and Kentucky were her kin folk were from, and where she was born and raised – Fredonia, Kentucky. We deeply bonded on that trip and it remains one of the highlights of my life. But it was also when the first whispers of Alzheimer’s came calling – only no one recognized them at that time. She would constantly check if the doors on the car were locked. She would constantly lose her purse. She would repeat stories and sentences verbatim to me over and over again. We all chalked it up to being quirky and normal aging at the time. But we were wrong.
Over the years, Alzheimer’s became more obvious: paranoia, anger, forgetfulness, and ultimately the inability to function independently. A move to live with my mom came first, then to an assisted living, then finally to a nursing home. Alzheimer’s slowly slithered in and stole away my Grandma. The disease took her personality, her intellect, and then finally her very essence, leaving her body bare of its soul. My mom, my aunt and Grandma’s sister have lovingly tended to her over the years, enduring the heartbreak of seeing their mother and sister slowly vanish. She has been gone in reality for a long, long time, but now her body is finally gone too. Farewell Grandma. I love you, and I know that you are finally whole again.
Friday, October 26, 2012
Dog farts
Dogley is a flatulent dog. Always has been, we just accept it as part of nature. Unfortunately for us. But sometimes, he rips one out so bad that he clears the room. And just now, he ripped one out so bad that he offended himself. He got up and walked away, staring backwards at the stench, with a look of confusion ...... like, who did THAT?
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Sleeping in pee.... Just part life around here
Normally Wheeler has insomnia and I sleep like a baby but the last weeks its been reversed. So as I sat here tonight reading through a stack of magazines I've brought so as to distract my head from yelling internal at me WHY AREN'T YOU ASLEEP, I reached over for the next magazine as I'd left them in a stack on Wheeler's legs (yes, I treat him as my table, he's astonishingly useful in that regard and doesn't mind a bit. win-win!) I digress. Which I'm prone to do at 2 am.
But the magazine I pick up is sopping wet. I suddenly realize that the off odor that I'd been smelling for the past however so long was (insert DUN DUN DUN.....) PEE! Not just any pee though, stenchy odiferous wild untreated UTI pee. His bag earlier the day had stunk so badly that I actually changed the bag out, something I have never had to do before. I only change them when I change the catheter once monthly. But this was full on peel the paint off the walls STANK (as we say in the south).
So I took all three corners of sheets and blankets and pillows off that I could do without disturbing him, took away the pillows we use to stack him in the positioning all night (good bye to those, I don't think they are salvageable but I could be wrong) gathered a fresh supply of: waterproof mattress pad, fitted sheet, flat sheet, blanket, bed pad, sheepskin, pillow and pillowcase for him. You see, the way it leaked was such that it formed a blossoming oval around him from his knees to his neck and it didn't touch my side much. I think the sheepskin wicked it up and around him.
At that point, I finally had to wake him, for which I felt horribly guilty (waking a man with sleeping difficulties.....) and explained. He said "Whatever", I put him in the sling, I redressed the bed in such good time that I'm prepared to lobby the Olympics to make it a sport. Then I hoisted him back down, where he .... promptly fell back to sleep!! SUCCESS! I took the sheets and blankets straightaway to the washer, put the whole rest of the mess outside on the back porch so that smell won't be in my house, or worse, soaking into my hardwood floors. I'll do those tomorrow.
Now only magazine is unusable (and possibly the body pillows, but I'll make a final judgement on that in the AM).
All I can say is that I am quite HAPPY to have had insomnia tonight. Otherwise it would have been much, much, MUCH worse if it had leaked all night versus finding it early on in the leaking process tonight at 2 am.
Cheers to insomnia
But the magazine I pick up is sopping wet. I suddenly realize that the off odor that I'd been smelling for the past however so long was (insert DUN DUN DUN.....) PEE! Not just any pee though, stenchy odiferous wild untreated UTI pee. His bag earlier the day had stunk so badly that I actually changed the bag out, something I have never had to do before. I only change them when I change the catheter once monthly. But this was full on peel the paint off the walls STANK (as we say in the south).
So I took all three corners of sheets and blankets and pillows off that I could do without disturbing him, took away the pillows we use to stack him in the positioning all night (good bye to those, I don't think they are salvageable but I could be wrong) gathered a fresh supply of: waterproof mattress pad, fitted sheet, flat sheet, blanket, bed pad, sheepskin, pillow and pillowcase for him. You see, the way it leaked was such that it formed a blossoming oval around him from his knees to his neck and it didn't touch my side much. I think the sheepskin wicked it up and around him.
At that point, I finally had to wake him, for which I felt horribly guilty (waking a man with sleeping difficulties.....) and explained. He said "Whatever", I put him in the sling, I redressed the bed in such good time that I'm prepared to lobby the Olympics to make it a sport. Then I hoisted him back down, where he .... promptly fell back to sleep!! SUCCESS! I took the sheets and blankets straightaway to the washer, put the whole rest of the mess outside on the back porch so that smell won't be in my house, or worse, soaking into my hardwood floors. I'll do those tomorrow.
Now only magazine is unusable (and possibly the body pillows, but I'll make a final judgement on that in the AM).
All I can say is that I am quite HAPPY to have had insomnia tonight. Otherwise it would have been much, much, MUCH worse if it had leaked all night versus finding it early on in the leaking process tonight at 2 am.
Cheers to insomnia
Fines at our house
You are fined 25 cents* in this house for:
1. Failing to put Wheeler's mouthstick back if you move it away
2. Failing to push the piano bench in (it traps/blocks Wheeler)
3. Swearing (a quarter per offense)
4. Saying fart (Offspring only, adults allowed)
5. FartING (Offspring only, quads allowed, mothers simply don't fart)
6. Leaving anything on the ramp (blocks/traps Wheeler)
7. Failing to obey a direct order (Offspring and quad only, mothers rule supreme)
1. Failing to put Wheeler's mouthstick back if you move it away
2. Failing to push the piano bench in (it traps/blocks Wheeler)
3. Swearing (a quarter per offense)
4. Saying fart (Offspring only, adults allowed)
5. FartING (Offspring only, quads allowed, mothers simply don't fart)
6. Leaving anything on the ramp (blocks/traps Wheeler)
7. Failing to obey a direct order (Offspring and quad only, mothers rule supreme)
8. Leaving shoes anywhere but on feet or on stairs
9. Failure to maintain a 5 minute warning buffer prior to trumpet practice
10. Turning Wheeler's chair off on purpose!
* all fines go to Villalobos Rescue Center which gets rich from us. Once a month I send in a SUBSTANTIAL donation.
postscript: the most revenue is generated by breaking rule #3 by the author of this blog, who shall remain thankfully anonymous....
9. Failure to maintain a 5 minute warning buffer prior to trumpet practice
10. Turning Wheeler's chair off on purpose!
* all fines go to Villalobos Rescue Center which gets rich from us. Once a month I send in a SUBSTANTIAL donation.
postscript: the most revenue is generated by breaking rule #3 by the author of this blog, who shall remain thankfully anonymous....
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
But I don't use a landline.....
I just signed Offspring up for Delta's frequent flyer program and it asked for a mobile phone number, and then for a home phone number. My mobile number is our home number, so I left it blank. *error* It required me to fill in a home number. So I filled in my mobile number in that field too. *error*. WTF? Now what am I gonna put in? I don't use a landline. Ultimately, I put his dad's number in there, but if I need to sign up for Delta's miles myself (which I should do, I travel for business alot lately), I'm not quite sure what to put there. I guess I'll put Wheeler's cell number there. But it's just annoying that they are so behind the times that they don't account for people who only use a mobile for everything. I've used a mobile for everything for 5+ years. Get with the program people!
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Really tall
We have been fiddling with using different cushions to combat a pressure sore that keeps developing on a certain spot on Wheeler's rump area. Bascially, we rotate between a Supracor Stimulite
and a Roho
I got him dressed in bed, got him in the sling, put the Roho cushion down on the seat of the chair and put him in the chair. Immediately, we knew something was off because he was sitting really high up - so far up that we couldn't even swing the chin control around past his shoulder. I leaned him back using the attendant controls on the back, and we managed to get him leaned back to I could try to arrange him to get the height issue resolved.
But every time I sat him up, he was still really tall sitting up. His feet literally dangled above the foot plate, he was that high up. The only thing we could figure out is that Uncle Air Force must have pumped up the Roho (we had discussed pumping it up) and he must have seriously overinflated it.
Then I suddenly realized.
I neglected to take the Stimulite cushion off BEFORE I put the Roho on. He was sitting on TWO cushions. (insert drum ba bump bump here). I am an idiot.
But every time I sat him up, he was still really tall sitting up. His feet literally dangled above the foot plate, he was that high up. The only thing we could figure out is that Uncle Air Force must have pumped up the Roho (we had discussed pumping it up) and he must have seriously overinflated it.
Then I suddenly realized.
I neglected to take the Stimulite cushion off BEFORE I put the Roho on. He was sitting on TWO cushions. (insert drum ba bump bump here). I am an idiot.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Really good ideas
I cannot tell from year to year how old Offspring is in his school pictures. He has been basically the same size, or very close in size, for 5+ years, so its really difficult to pin down what school year his photos come from. As a result, I have a drawer full of photos that I can't date. Today is picture date. I devised a scheme that would be very handy: write on his shirt "I am 11 years old and in 6th grade". Brilliant, doncha think?
One of the worst feelings is when you go to put wet clothes in the dryer, only to find a full load of dry clothes that you neglected to take out and fold when they were done. Hate that! Happened to me last night. Bah humbug. Meant I had to fold up 4 loads of laundry instead of 3.
Yesterday Offspring got a big glass out of the cupboard and filled it to the tippy top with milk. I noted to him, belatedly, that just because a glass is a certain size does not compel him to fill it to the top of the glass. He turned and said "But mom, I'm a thirsty guy!". Who can argue with that eh? And damned if he didn't drink it all. But probably only because I told him he better and I gave him the mommy death stare. Otherwise I know half or more of it would have been leftover and I would have had to find a place for it in our overstuffed fridge.
Wheeler got me these, aren't they FAB?????
They were extremely expensive, but he says I deserve them. Hell, why not - have to splurge now and then,
Two adorable young college fraternity guys came to our place Saturday to take an extra TV we had back to the fraternity house where Wheeler was a member during college. Today they messaged Wheeler and said that as part of pledging, the youngest guys needed to meet alumni and do work, and so did we need anything done, like cleaning out an attic or a garage? YES!!!!! and YES!!!!!!! How awesome is this? I really super need strapping young lads to carry crap down from the attic and four of them could make very short work of it. Ditto the garage. Combine that with a few loads to the city dump and I will have a clean attic and garage in a few weeks. Hooray! I may have to change my tune about fraternities.
One of the worst feelings is when you go to put wet clothes in the dryer, only to find a full load of dry clothes that you neglected to take out and fold when they were done. Hate that! Happened to me last night. Bah humbug. Meant I had to fold up 4 loads of laundry instead of 3.
Yesterday Offspring got a big glass out of the cupboard and filled it to the tippy top with milk. I noted to him, belatedly, that just because a glass is a certain size does not compel him to fill it to the top of the glass. He turned and said "But mom, I'm a thirsty guy!". Who can argue with that eh? And damned if he didn't drink it all. But probably only because I told him he better and I gave him the mommy death stare. Otherwise I know half or more of it would have been leftover and I would have had to find a place for it in our overstuffed fridge.
Wheeler got me these, aren't they FAB?????
Two adorable young college fraternity guys came to our place Saturday to take an extra TV we had back to the fraternity house where Wheeler was a member during college. Today they messaged Wheeler and said that as part of pledging, the youngest guys needed to meet alumni and do work, and so did we need anything done, like cleaning out an attic or a garage? YES!!!!! and YES!!!!!!! How awesome is this? I really super need strapping young lads to carry crap down from the attic and four of them could make very short work of it. Ditto the garage. Combine that with a few loads to the city dump and I will have a clean attic and garage in a few weeks. Hooray! I may have to change my tune about fraternities.
Parallel processing
I don't parallel process well. But last night, I was parallel processing like a fiend between about 10 and 11. I was doing all of the following ....
- Getting Wheelers out of his wheels and into bed
- Programming the DVR to record all the new fall shows
- Q-tipping Wheeler's ears
- Plucking his nose hairs
- Rubbing his eyes
- Being his hands in playing Words with Friends on the iPad
- Shopping and building a computer to possibly buy at apple.com
- Chatting with a friend on Facebook
- Chatting with my niece on Facebook about the above mentioned computer on apple.com
- Texting with a friend on my phone
- Moving laundry from basket to washer, washer to dryer, then folding (x 3)
- Giving Wheeler his medications
- Taking my medications
- Feeding the dogs
- Letting the dogs out
- Putting dishes in dishwasher
- Enjoy a big glass of root beer
I was impressed that I didn't implode. Normally I just CANNOT do all that, but somehow I was able to juggle most all of it... for the most part. I had to check very carefully that we each swallowed the right set of medications though... a mix up there would be very very bad!
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Mommy fail
Offspring was 20 minutes late from school... I went to the bus stop and he wasn't there. Where could he be?!?!?! Mind you, I had JUST watched a show about a kid who was literally snatched off the street and kidnapped, so with that fresh on my mind I started to worry a little..... then a little more ... heart starting to pound, I suddenly remember ... OOPS!! He attended photography club after school and I WAS SUPPOSED TO PICK HIM UP! 2 minutes later he called me, peeved, saying "MOM, you FORGOT me didn't you?!" to which I had to sheepishly admit ummmm, yeah... so poor kid had to sit in the heat for 45 minutes waiting for me. Doink!!!
Earlier in the day, I ground up some coffee beans ... or rather, TRIED to because as soon as I started to grind them, the lid flew off and spewed half ground, half not coffee beans all over me, the counter, the sink and the floor. What the hell?! Some kind of plastic lining inside the grinder had broken, became ensnared in the blades and caused the whole thing to seize up.
Mommy fail day.
Earlier in the day, I ground up some coffee beans ... or rather, TRIED to because as soon as I started to grind them, the lid flew off and spewed half ground, half not coffee beans all over me, the counter, the sink and the floor. What the hell?! Some kind of plastic lining inside the grinder had broken, became ensnared in the blades and caused the whole thing to seize up.
Mommy fail day.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
School expenses
School supplies: $80. Graphing calculator: $99. Gym clothes: $50. Dad bought wrong size of clothes, so buy another set: $50. Trumpet: $230. Trumpet second mouthpiece and cleaning kit: $60. Subscription to music website for assessments and lessons: $30. PTA fees: $30. Yearbook: $30. New tennis shoes: $50. School t-shirt: $15. First month lunch money: $45.
Damn, it's expensive to be in middle school!
Damn, it's expensive to be in middle school!
Friday, August 17, 2012
You know you've lost it....
...When you drive to the pet store to get the dog's nail trimmed, only upon arrival you discover that you have failed to bring the dogs. Whoops.
Today I more successfully accomplished this task. Whew.
Today I more successfully accomplished this task. Whew.
Saturday, August 11, 2012
A swamp and stinky feet
That's what his suitcase smells like ... a cross between a swamp and stinky feet, after a week away at camp. And I mean everything in the suitcase, not just the clothes, right down to the damn flashlight, it all S-T-A-N-K-S. Imagine not showering for a few days, not wearing deodorant and then taking a big whiff. Or boiling old shoes on the stove. Ok, you get the idea. It stunk. I took absolutely everything made of fabric and took it straight to the washing machine and set everything else out on the porch to air out. Lord help me.
He had more fun than the law allows. At the closing chapel (it was YMCA, so there was some religion in it), they sang songs, locked arms, swayed, held hands, and did all the campy stuff you do. And he looked so happy, just grinning ear to ear. I loved watching him with his newfound friends and it warmed to the bottom of my heart. I remember camp and I made friends at camp as a 10 year old that I wrote to until I was in college.
He did so many things - including horseback riding, canoeing, swimming, tetherball (for which he is proudly sporting MASSIVE - and I must say impressive - bruises up and down his arms), dodgeball, wiffelball, and a 100 other things. Every day was jam packed with activities and he probably never slowed down once to take a breath. I particularly like his description of "bro'-ing out"... time where just the "brothers" from his cabin would hang out and play frisbee and such. They called it "bro time". How adorable. Of course, if I told him I thought that was adorable, he'd kill me. But it was adorable. And hilarious. But he is getting older and wow, he will have "bro"s to hang out with soon. I guess he already does!
He didn't want to come home of course, but I missed him A LOT! I mean, he's stayed with his dad for a week before, and even been gone almost 2 weeks in New Hampshire before, but I've always called him every day or nearly every day then. This time I didn't get to call him at all, so by today, I was really missing my boy. I was so glad to see him, I hugged him till his guts fell out. Ok, almost.
I'm glad he's home. He's not.
Camp was a success!
He had more fun than the law allows. At the closing chapel (it was YMCA, so there was some religion in it), they sang songs, locked arms, swayed, held hands, and did all the campy stuff you do. And he looked so happy, just grinning ear to ear. I loved watching him with his newfound friends and it warmed to the bottom of my heart. I remember camp and I made friends at camp as a 10 year old that I wrote to until I was in college.
He did so many things - including horseback riding, canoeing, swimming, tetherball (for which he is proudly sporting MASSIVE - and I must say impressive - bruises up and down his arms), dodgeball, wiffelball, and a 100 other things. Every day was jam packed with activities and he probably never slowed down once to take a breath. I particularly like his description of "bro'-ing out"... time where just the "brothers" from his cabin would hang out and play frisbee and such. They called it "bro time". How adorable. Of course, if I told him I thought that was adorable, he'd kill me. But it was adorable. And hilarious. But he is getting older and wow, he will have "bro"s to hang out with soon. I guess he already does!
He didn't want to come home of course, but I missed him A LOT! I mean, he's stayed with his dad for a week before, and even been gone almost 2 weeks in New Hampshire before, but I've always called him every day or nearly every day then. This time I didn't get to call him at all, so by today, I was really missing my boy. I was so glad to see him, I hugged him till his guts fell out. Ok, almost.
I'm glad he's home. He's not.
Camp was a success!
Friday, August 10, 2012
Oil rigs?
We're watching Modern Family on DVD (Season 1 - how fun to catch up!) and the fine print says "home use excludes use of this disc at locations such as clubs, coaches, hospitals, hotels, oil rigs, prisons, and schools". Ummmmmm. Oil rigs? To quote Modern Family: REALLY???
Monday, August 6, 2012
Camp
Offspring is off to camp this week. They can sign up for all kinds of activities, and two of the ones he signed up for: archery and riflery.
Was it something I said?!?
Was it something I said?!?
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Ahhhhhhhh.... a new chair
This is my new chair. This is not my house, this is just a stock photo of my new chair. I am so excited. I have always wanted a super comfy chair, and this is DA BOMB of comfy chairs. It rocks, it leans back, and it lays almost completely flat when totally reclined. I am in heaven. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh.
Friday, July 20, 2012
I got the hint
Offspring placed this stuff on my desk in front of me just now.
I think I know what he wanted....
I think I know what he wanted....
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
If only he could talk
I have been working, sitting in one place all morning and afternoon, and Dogley just came up to me, stared at me and barked. I looked at him, he wiggled his butt and he barked again. I looked at him, he barked again. I stood up, he walked away, I followed him. He walked to his water bowl and sat down. I looked at it and saw that it was empty. I filled it up. He started lapping water. Gee, if only he could talk....
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Handicapped seating SUCKS
We went to a concert this week and as always, the seating options sucked. It was an arena show, so that meant we had to either sit in the last row of the lower level ($200 per ticket, no can do) or the first row of the upper level ($75 per ticket). The section is situated as follows (use your imagination):
Row R: SEATS SEATS SEATS SEATS SEATS SEATS SEATS SEATS
....
ROW C: SEATS SEATS SEATS SEATS SEATS SEATS SEATS SEATS
ROW B: SEATS SEATS SEATS SEATS SEATS SEATS SEATS SEATS
STAIRS XXXXX DOOR
(------WALKING SPACE -----------------------------------------------------)
Row A: SEAT SEAT SEAT SEAT SEAT SEAT SEAT OPEN AREA
We were in the two bolded seats, with of course Wheeler's folding chair removed to accommodate his wheelchair. All the chairs on Row A are folding chairs that can be moved for wheelchairs. But what happens is that everyone in the section, by definition, has to walk behind us to get to their seat. Absolutely everyone. And every time someone has to use the bathroom or goes to get a drink or souvenir, they have to walk behind us. And people tend to congregate where it says "OPEN AREA" and talk to each other. I got so pissed off because no one seemed to understand that WE WERE TRYING TO LISTEN TO THE FRELLIN' CONCERT! We didn't pay $150 to hear their chit chat. And sure, any two people talked for 60-90 seconds, no big deal right? No, because EVERYONE talked for 60-90 seconds but consecutively such that someone was always standing there talking at any given point during the concert.
The usher at the door is SUPPOSED to stop people from doing that for just that reason (not to mention obstructing the view of those behind the open area), but SHE was the worst offender! She stood and chit chatted with concert goers, with other ushers and staff and was uber annoying. I am actually considering sending a complaint to the arena because it really detracted from the concert.
And the thing is, if we'd popped for the lower level seats, we have the same problem because all the concessions are right behind the last row in the lower level. And then people stand directly behind you in that last row and chat, again, each of them thinks they aren't bothering you because they are there for only a few minutes. But everyone is there for "just a few minutes" which translates to the entire concert (or hockey game or any event), and it is so annoying.
Yet another reason not to break your neck. Sucky options for concert/hockey/event seating. Bah humbug!!!
Row R: SEATS SEATS SEATS SEATS SEATS SEATS SEATS SEATS
....
ROW C: SEATS SEATS SEATS SEATS SEATS SEATS SEATS SEATS
ROW B: SEATS SEATS SEATS SEATS SEATS SEATS SEATS SEATS
STAIRS XXXXX DOOR
(------WALKING SPACE -----------------------------------------------------)
Row A: SEAT SEAT SEAT SEAT SEAT SEAT SEAT OPEN AREA
We were in the two bolded seats, with of course Wheeler's folding chair removed to accommodate his wheelchair. All the chairs on Row A are folding chairs that can be moved for wheelchairs. But what happens is that everyone in the section, by definition, has to walk behind us to get to their seat. Absolutely everyone. And every time someone has to use the bathroom or goes to get a drink or souvenir, they have to walk behind us. And people tend to congregate where it says "OPEN AREA" and talk to each other. I got so pissed off because no one seemed to understand that WE WERE TRYING TO LISTEN TO THE FRELLIN' CONCERT! We didn't pay $150 to hear their chit chat. And sure, any two people talked for 60-90 seconds, no big deal right? No, because EVERYONE talked for 60-90 seconds but consecutively such that someone was always standing there talking at any given point during the concert.
The usher at the door is SUPPOSED to stop people from doing that for just that reason (not to mention obstructing the view of those behind the open area), but SHE was the worst offender! She stood and chit chatted with concert goers, with other ushers and staff and was uber annoying. I am actually considering sending a complaint to the arena because it really detracted from the concert.
And the thing is, if we'd popped for the lower level seats, we have the same problem because all the concessions are right behind the last row in the lower level. And then people stand directly behind you in that last row and chat, again, each of them thinks they aren't bothering you because they are there for only a few minutes. But everyone is there for "just a few minutes" which translates to the entire concert (or hockey game or any event), and it is so annoying.
Yet another reason not to break your neck. Sucky options for concert/hockey/event seating. Bah humbug!!!
Thursday, July 5, 2012
New cushion? That means a new chair, sorry.
Wheeler has a pressure sore again. The same pressure sore, actually as before only this time its not as gnarly and deep. Two problems here. One, once you have a pressure sore in a given area, that area is forever more prone to getting a pressure sore there again. Two, his cushion is over 5 years old and is likely contributing to the sore, so every time he gets up, that spot is aggravated by his cushion. So once he gets better, he'll have to go get pressure mapped for a new cushion.
But I am oh so not looking forward to that because he recently went on Medicare, and his wheelchair was purchased by his previous insurance company. And in a stroke of genius, Medicare won't purchase or repair items for a wheelchair they didn't purchase. As far as Medicare is concerned, if they didn't buy the chair, it does not exist and they will not pay for any repairs to it.
So if his chair needs any repairs at all, or say, theoretically needs a $300 cushion, we are just shit outta luck until Medicare buys him a new chair. But you see, his chair cost $47,147.
Yes, $47,147. I'm not kidding.
And it took a predictably horrible anguishing amount of time and energy to get it reimbursed (they denied it for 13 months despite being 100% pre-approved IN WRITING before we ordered it), so to go through that process again is not something I'm looking forward to. And even if it would be better with Medicare (which I've heard it is), a lot of the features on his chair - such as the seat elevator (which raises the entire seat up and down so that he can sit level at a taller or shorter table) is not covered under Medicare, nor is a standing function covered, so a new chair would be ALOT less functional for him.
So there's the rub. We need a $300 cushion for his chair. But to get a $300 cushion for his chair, Medicare would have to
BUY. HIM. A. NEW. FRIGGIN. CHAIR.
with fewer features, not to mention
HE. DOESN'T. NEED. A. NEW. CHAIR. HE. JUST. NEEDS. A. NEW. CUSHION.
This will become especially problematic as the years go on as the wheelchair needs more repairs, because as of now we're considering just sucking up the $300 out of pocket because losing the features of his old chair would not be worth it to save $300 on a cushion. Why can't Medicare just pay to repair his current chair until it really does need to be replaced???
Just one more fine and dandy part of life on wheels.
That and laying on his side for a few weeks while this sore heals. Again.
But I am oh so not looking forward to that because he recently went on Medicare, and his wheelchair was purchased by his previous insurance company. And in a stroke of genius, Medicare won't purchase or repair items for a wheelchair they didn't purchase. As far as Medicare is concerned, if they didn't buy the chair, it does not exist and they will not pay for any repairs to it.
So if his chair needs any repairs at all, or say, theoretically needs a $300 cushion, we are just shit outta luck until Medicare buys him a new chair. But you see, his chair cost $47,147.
Yes, $47,147. I'm not kidding.
And it took a predictably horrible anguishing amount of time and energy to get it reimbursed (they denied it for 13 months despite being 100% pre-approved IN WRITING before we ordered it), so to go through that process again is not something I'm looking forward to. And even if it would be better with Medicare (which I've heard it is), a lot of the features on his chair - such as the seat elevator (which raises the entire seat up and down so that he can sit level at a taller or shorter table) is not covered under Medicare, nor is a standing function covered, so a new chair would be ALOT less functional for him.
So there's the rub. We need a $300 cushion for his chair. But to get a $300 cushion for his chair, Medicare would have to
BUY. HIM. A. NEW. FRIGGIN. CHAIR.
with fewer features, not to mention
HE. DOESN'T. NEED. A. NEW. CHAIR. HE. JUST. NEEDS. A. NEW. CUSHION.
This will become especially problematic as the years go on as the wheelchair needs more repairs, because as of now we're considering just sucking up the $300 out of pocket because losing the features of his old chair would not be worth it to save $300 on a cushion. Why can't Medicare just pay to repair his current chair until it really does need to be replaced???
Just one more fine and dandy part of life on wheels.
That and laying on his side for a few weeks while this sore heals. Again.
Friday, June 29, 2012
Satan called ... he wants his weather back
The actual temperature right now:
What my car says it is outside right now:
Me thinks my car thermometer is goofed up. Note to self: get it fixed. Barring that: don't trust it.
What my car says it is outside right now:
Me thinks my car thermometer is goofed up. Note to self: get it fixed. Barring that: don't trust it.
Monday, June 25, 2012
Summer job for Offspring
"Mom, you know what summer job I'd like to have?"
No, what?
"The Air Force"
Oh, ok. What would you do in the Air Force?
"Fly fighter jets"
(Stifling laughter here) Well, that certainly sounds exciting.
"Yah, and I'm really good at it in my game, I'm really good with the joystick. But I guess I'd have to learn all the other controls"
Yes, you would.
"Maybe I could have voice controls for some stuff - like eject. Eject! Eject! Eject!"
Seems like a good idea.
"That would be such a cool job"
Sighs deeply as he imagines himself flying a fighter jet as an 11 year old ....
No, what?
"The Air Force"
Oh, ok. What would you do in the Air Force?
"Fly fighter jets"
(Stifling laughter here) Well, that certainly sounds exciting.
"Yah, and I'm really good at it in my game, I'm really good with the joystick. But I guess I'd have to learn all the other controls"
Yes, you would.
"Maybe I could have voice controls for some stuff - like eject. Eject! Eject! Eject!"
Seems like a good idea.
"That would be such a cool job"
Sighs deeply as he imagines himself flying a fighter jet as an 11 year old ....
Thursday, June 21, 2012
A kid who knows how to deal with a work-from-home mom
Held up in front of me today while I was on the phone for work:
Monday, June 11, 2012
Remote office
Since I'm working remotely from home, my job sent me absolutely everything I needed for a remote office. And about 10 things I didn't need. Here is the giant pile of boxes that have arrived at my house the first week that I worked there (week of May 21st):
I was so overwhelmed with the number of boxes that I let them sit until today when I finally opened them. ALL of those boxes translated to just this (noting that I already had the laptop, that wasn't in the boxes above, just the docking station was in the boxes - the docking station is under the pile of papers over the laptop):
Can you believe that??? Now I have to break down all those boxes and recycle a ton of cardboard. And I still haven't gotten my printer, so I'll have yet one more giant box to open and hook up to my system.
TOO. MUCH. STUFF!
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
And just exactly how am I supposed to open a sealed box?
And so just exactly how am I supposed to open a box sealed with strong mailing tape, if without a sharp object such as a razor blade (which is extra super sharp)?
Monday, June 4, 2012
Boarding an airplane: Southwest vs the rest of the world
I have been spoiled by flying Southwest exclusively for the past few years, and I have now flown "regular" airlines twice in the last two weeks. They boarded in, approximately, this order:
- Grand supreme ultimate stupendous mileage plus triple crown golden sash card members
- Ultimate plus super collosal humogous mileage double platinum partner members
- Golden crown golden preferred gold club standard members
- Sapphire preferred perks mileage plus club members
- Preferred perks I still have more miles than you schlepps members
- Persons with disabilties
- Section 1
- Section 2
- Section 3
- Section 4
- Section 5
- Section 6
- Section 7
- Last and final boarding call
Now here's how they board on Southwest
- Persons with disabilties and families with small children
- Section A
- Section B
- Section C
- We love you but we will leave you, so get yourself on board now!
Saturday, June 2, 2012
My kid is the coolest kid on the planet
Today we went to Garrison Keiller's live broadcast of Prairie Home Companion. We went because Offspring heard about it and really wanted to go - he brought it up to me on his own, I hadn't even heard about it. I agreed we should go. When we got there it was really crowded. But since it was just the two of us, we threaded our way through the crowd and squeezed our way in right on the main aisle (albeit it in the back).
Before the formal show started, the vaunted Mr. Keillor and one of the singers on the show strolled up the aisle, singing a song - and walked right past us!
The broadcast was so much fun to watch. You know when you listen to it on the radio that its all done by voice, but its another thing entirely to watch it all being done. We were really far back, so we couldn't see too well, but well enough to see there was nothing but two guys, a woman, Garrison and a few props making all the sounds and voicing. Offspring sat in his chair completely enthralled for the entire two hours straight, didn't move a single muscle the whole time. If you've listened to Prairie Home Companion, you know that it is folksy, down home dry humor. And it has folk and bluegrass music.
It is a 100% old time radio show, just like the ones back in the 30s and 40s. And you know what? My kid loves old time radio shows. He loves Prairie Home Companion. He also listens to and loves Click and Clack the Tappett Brothers ("Car Talk" on NPR), and "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell me", also on NPR. (yes, of course I am raising him on a steady diet of liberal elite media such as NPR). And he knows almost all the answers to Wait Wait Don't Tell Me too! I have the coolest kid on the planet. He loves OLD TIME RADIO SHOWS! And he's flippin' eleven years old. How did I get this lucky? I have to say it again: I have the coolest kid ON THE PLANET.
Before the formal show started, the vaunted Mr. Keillor and one of the singers on the show strolled up the aisle, singing a song - and walked right past us!
The broadcast was so much fun to watch. You know when you listen to it on the radio that its all done by voice, but its another thing entirely to watch it all being done. We were really far back, so we couldn't see too well, but well enough to see there was nothing but two guys, a woman, Garrison and a few props making all the sounds and voicing. Offspring sat in his chair completely enthralled for the entire two hours straight, didn't move a single muscle the whole time. If you've listened to Prairie Home Companion, you know that it is folksy, down home dry humor. And it has folk and bluegrass music.
It is a 100% old time radio show, just like the ones back in the 30s and 40s. And you know what? My kid loves old time radio shows. He loves Prairie Home Companion. He also listens to and loves Click and Clack the Tappett Brothers ("Car Talk" on NPR), and "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell me", also on NPR. (yes, of course I am raising him on a steady diet of liberal elite media such as NPR). And he knows almost all the answers to Wait Wait Don't Tell Me too! I have the coolest kid on the planet. He loves OLD TIME RADIO SHOWS! And he's flippin' eleven years old. How did I get this lucky? I have to say it again: I have the coolest kid ON THE PLANET.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Chicken livers
I used to say that you could fry anything and it would taste good, that you could fry shoe laces and they'd be delicious.
Then I tried fried chicken livers.
I was wrong.
GROSSSSSSSS. Uncle Air Force made them for dinner tonight, and I tried one. I literally spit it out into my hand after one chew. I almost vomited, as in seriously, I almost up chucked, it was that disgusting. The texture, the taste, ewwwwwwww.
So, you can't fry anything and make it good.
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Differing musical tastes
My better half listens to:
Leonard Skynard, Grateful Dead, Phish, Led Zepplin, Pink Floyd, Medesky Martin & Wood*, John Coltrane, Miles Davis, Peter Gabriel, Lucky Dube, Bob Marley, Peter Tosh, Jeff Beck, Santana, Singers & Players, Bauhaus, The The, Ozzy Osbourne, U2, Black Sabbath, Jimi Hendrix, etc.
His better half listens to:
Coldplay, U2, Katy Perry, Jordin Sparks, Flo Rida, Rhianna, Eminem, Brad Paisley, Eric Church, Gavin DeGraw, Chris Brown, The Band Perry, Peter Gabriel, Lady Antebellum, Zac Brown Band, Good Charlotte, Blake Shelton, Miranda Lambert, Lady Gaga, Maroon 5, Demi Lovato, etc.
If we were Venn diagrams, we would not intersect very much. I play the Top 40 or Modern Country station in the house, and tries not to listen. He plays godawful stuff from his computer and I try not to listen. Our shared iTunes account is bipolarly confused.
* there is a special place in HELL for people who play Medesky Martin and Wood in my presence.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Black light poster on ceiling
Last night, I idled noted how cool it would be to put Offspring's black light active poster on the ceiling of his room over his bed so he could gaze at it from bed. Of course, that turned into a promise to do it. Tonight, he remembered that I said I would. Rut roh. I am not handy. I don't really "do" ladders.
I decided to be brave. Went to the garage. Got the ladder. Carried it (with his help) up the stairs. Pulled the bed out from the wall. Climbed up. Hyperventilated. Climbed back down. Collected myself....
Tried again. Taped poster to ceiling, which involved a great deal more balance and nerve than I normally have. Or I ever have really. Moved bed back, carried ladder down stairs, put back in garage.
Mom is a hero now. It was worth it.
I decided to be brave. Went to the garage. Got the ladder. Carried it (with his help) up the stairs. Pulled the bed out from the wall. Climbed up. Hyperventilated. Climbed back down. Collected myself....
Tried again. Taped poster to ceiling, which involved a great deal more balance and nerve than I normally have. Or I ever have really. Moved bed back, carried ladder down stairs, put back in garage.
Mom is a hero now. It was worth it.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Sylvia
But, to get a sample run, you have to get past evil Sylvia at the front desk of the urologist's office. She is a rip roaring pain in my ass, and she truly enjoys being a pain in the butt. EVERY time I take in a sample, I tell her that I am merely there to drop a sample off to the lab, that the specimen cup is clearly labeled with his name, birthdate and that it needs a C&S (culture and sensitivity) run. She then looks ever so puzzled in a syrupy sweet southern way, and says with sugar "Does he have an appointment with Dr. B today?", knowing full well he doesn't since I JUST SAID I WAS DROPPING OFF A SAMPLE ... that and HE'S NOT WITH ME. So I say, no, I am just here to drop off the sample after the prescribed course of antibiotics, as per Dr. B's instructions. Then she says "Well, I'm sorry, he has to have an appointment with the doctor in order to do that".
NO HE DOESN'T!!!!!! I then argue with her for 5 minutes that no, he doesn't need a FRIGGIN' APPOINTMENT to drop off a sample. The entire time, she acts as if no one has EVER in the course of her ENTIRE employment at a UROLOGIST'S office has come to drop off a urine sample without an appointment. She then says that he at least has to have a nurse's visit scheduled, then she pulls up the calendar and suggests a date in the next decade.
I AM DROPPING THE SAMPLE OFF TODAY LADY.
She then insists again that I just cannot drop a sample off like this, and I will tell her, yes, I can. I tell her to ask Dr. B's nurse. She SIGHED LOUDLY, and told me to sit down and wait. She then tended to her fingernails, answered the phone, filed charts and chit chatted for 20 minutes before going back to ask Dr. B's nurse. As soon as she came back from the back, she said "Oh, yes, Dr. B said you can drop that off, the lab is just through that door".
Gee thanks.
And the dance will continue the next time. I wish they would fire that wench.
Monday, May 14, 2012
Friday, May 11, 2012
5 Decisions Away
Do you watch the A&E show "Hoarders"? If you do, you probably will recognize the name Matt Paxton; he is one of the extreme cleaner guys - the dude who shovels shit (literally) and cleans up the worst hoarding houses. Well, as it turns out he has a podcast (iTunes) and a website - both named "5 Decisions Away". The premise behind the name is that one is always just 5 decisions away from a life changing event - good or bad (if you watch the show, you know what the "bad outcome" he refers to is... I'll not gross you out and write it out here). His podcast is about 90 mins long weekly and this week's is episode 27 or 28 I think. Usually the first half is just shooting the breeze and various stories, and the second half is generally about hoarding - although not always. He is a natural born storyteller, a true raconteur, and I enjoy listening to his podcasts. I have gone back and listened to about 15 of them so far, and plan to listen to all of them (goodbye 38 hours of my life....). Warning: the humor is raunchy, raw and not G-rated in the slightest. But if you lean towards that kind of humor .... go listen - its hilarious, disgusting, touching, and informative.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
How much my insurance company loves me
Wheeler has a urinary tract infection that is resistant to every single oral antibiotic out there, and to every single IM/IV abx as well, all except one (called Invanz for the curious). But it has to be given as an injection and so the choice was to go to the doctor's office every day for 10 days (with it being unclear what we would do over the weekends for injections) or I could do the injections at home myself. Given that our copay for a specialist is $70 PER visit (we have sucky insurance), and that the insurance company absolutely requires that the doctor's office charge it, that would have been $700 out of pocket for us just to have the injections done by their office. .... Uh, I don't think so. So we decided - as we have done before - to do the injections at home.
Problem: I am anaphylatically allergic to penicillin. And this drug cross reacts in 50% of people with pcn allergies. Solution: send an email to our 700 member neighborhood email list to see if anyone with medical training would be willing to give him the injections here at home for 10 days. Within 15 minutes, I had an offer to help - hooray! A retired plastic surgeon who lives a few blocks over comes over every day to administer his injection. Its a real pain though because it comes in powder form in a vial, and has to be reconstituted with vicious lidocaine. So you have to draw up 3.2 mL of lidocaine, inject the lidocaine in the powder vial, shake it like crazy for a couple of minutes (it is very difficult to dissolve), draw it up into the syringe, change needles (since its no longer very sharp from being poked into two vials), then inject him. Just in case I get exposed though, we have an "adult allergy emergency kit" prominently on the kitchen counter: EpiPen, prednisone, benadryl, zantac (little known allergy rescue, as an H2 inhibitor it suppresses allergic reactions), albuterol, and strict instructions to call 911 if I start wheezing or if my tongue swells.
Also part of the solution is that I have to treat Wheeler as if he is biohazardous waste. 38% of the drug is excreted in urine unchanged, and 10% in, lets call it 'other ways', so I can't do his personal care at all. I have been getting him up in his chair and back in bed, but anything involving more personal care, Uncle Air Force has to do. This means that he had to stay here last weekend and next weekend since the 10 days is straddling two weekends, which he is very unhappy about. He said "thanks for all the advance warning" .... AS IF SOMEHOW WE COULD HAVE PLANNED THIS?!?!? That makes me nuts. "hello yes? I'd like to plan an infection for next month... yes, let's say the 5th, and let's plan for a drug that she can't handle for 10 days, and make it only straddle one weekend please .... yes, thank you, we'll be sure to be ready for the infection". AS IF?!?!?! Grrrrr. I get pissed when people get pissed at ME for things I can't control.
Anyway, let's hope for the best. And in the meantime, I had two claims for my foot go through and both were denied because I am "not a plan member". WHAT? So now I have to call them and get it all figured out and assure them that yes, we do pay $617 a month faithfully for me to have their shitty insurance so please PAY my doctor's bill. Argh....
Problem: I am anaphylatically allergic to penicillin. And this drug cross reacts in 50% of people with pcn allergies. Solution: send an email to our 700 member neighborhood email list to see if anyone with medical training would be willing to give him the injections here at home for 10 days. Within 15 minutes, I had an offer to help - hooray! A retired plastic surgeon who lives a few blocks over comes over every day to administer his injection. Its a real pain though because it comes in powder form in a vial, and has to be reconstituted with vicious lidocaine. So you have to draw up 3.2 mL of lidocaine, inject the lidocaine in the powder vial, shake it like crazy for a couple of minutes (it is very difficult to dissolve), draw it up into the syringe, change needles (since its no longer very sharp from being poked into two vials), then inject him. Just in case I get exposed though, we have an "adult allergy emergency kit" prominently on the kitchen counter: EpiPen, prednisone, benadryl, zantac (little known allergy rescue, as an H2 inhibitor it suppresses allergic reactions), albuterol, and strict instructions to call 911 if I start wheezing or if my tongue swells.
Also part of the solution is that I have to treat Wheeler as if he is biohazardous waste. 38% of the drug is excreted in urine unchanged, and 10% in, lets call it 'other ways', so I can't do his personal care at all. I have been getting him up in his chair and back in bed, but anything involving more personal care, Uncle Air Force has to do. This means that he had to stay here last weekend and next weekend since the 10 days is straddling two weekends, which he is very unhappy about. He said "thanks for all the advance warning" .... AS IF SOMEHOW WE COULD HAVE PLANNED THIS?!?!? That makes me nuts. "hello yes? I'd like to plan an infection for next month... yes, let's say the 5th, and let's plan for a drug that she can't handle for 10 days, and make it only straddle one weekend please .... yes, thank you, we'll be sure to be ready for the infection". AS IF?!?!?! Grrrrr. I get pissed when people get pissed at ME for things I can't control.
Anyway, let's hope for the best. And in the meantime, I had two claims for my foot go through and both were denied because I am "not a plan member". WHAT? So now I have to call them and get it all figured out and assure them that yes, we do pay $617 a month faithfully for me to have their shitty insurance so please PAY my doctor's bill. Argh....
Sunday, April 22, 2012
How much I love that boy....
More than I am tall ...
More than I love raspberries ...
More than I am funny ...More than the number of leaves on the trees in a forest ...
More than the stars in the sky ...
More than air in the room ...
More than water in the oceans ...
More than my heart can hold ...
And lastly, more than I can possibly explain.
I just look at him, sleeping, in his bed, at his beautiful little face, and wonder how I got this lucky.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Dinner tonight
Chop and seed 4 small Roma tomatoes, add to cooked pasta, add handful of shredded parmesan cheese, add a generous squirt of olive oil, add pinch of salt, grind black pepper. Eat!
Monday, April 2, 2012
Summer camp
For summer camp? One week overnight summer camp through the YMCA is $710 for the week. If you want your child to have horseback riding too, its an extra $170, and canoeing is an extra $67 on top of that. So we're talking $1000 for a single week of summer camp. Holy crap!
Good lord, kids are expensive. Thank god I only have one.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Yellow tree pollen
On the positive side, said trees and shrubs that generate pollen are beautiful. Taken with my iPhone around the neighborhood the other day:
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Reason #3,109 not to break your neck
#3,109: Pressure sores.
[ highly disturbing graphic gory photo not pasted in here since its a G-rated blog and all ]
[ but trust me its U-G-L-Y ]
[ and scary ]
[ and disGUSTing]
Wheeler has a pressure sore on an existing flap surgery* site, right on the ischial bones (the "sit" bones on your butt). Right now, he's looking at a minimum of 4-6 weeks in bed, keeping 100% pressure off of that sore, IF absolutely NOTHING goes wrong in the healing process. (pardon me while I go laugh hysterically at the thought of nothing going wrong)
Sigh. Poor Wheeler.
* if you are not spinal cord injury initiated, and don't know what flap surgery is, here is an article with photos. But be prepared before you click that link. Its gross. And Wheeler has had two of these surgeries, one on each side (each leg/sit bone side). Flap surgery is reason #3,108 not to break your neck.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
A case of over-engineering
Yesterday was an absolutely gorgeous day, mid 80s, sunshine, light breeze. Offspring and I were outside in the yard, having just gotten back from the neighborhood park. My dad then drove by in his red convertible Corvette..... top down, music playing.
He stopped in our driveway and asked if we wanted to take the car for a spin. Hell yes!
We drove around the neighborhood for a bit and then decided to go get ice cream at our favorite place. We parked, and I pushed the button to turn the car off. Yes, you push a button to turn the car off, there is no key. I was worried right then because I realized that I would need the key fob to turn the car back on and my cursory inspection of the car turned up no key fob. I hastily pushed the button and to my relief, the car turned back on. Ahhh, problem solved. Either the fob was indeed somewhere in the car, or it didn't need to be in the car to start it.
We got out of the car and I didn't bother trying to lock the car because its a convertible for Pete's sake - you could just reach in and take anything you wanted. We walked up and got our ice cream. My was pistachio ice cream - and there must have been $15 worth of pistachios in my serving, holy crap there were a lot of pistachios in that! Offspring got his usual "N & Ns and sminkles", but they were out of "sminkles" so it was just M&Ms in vanilla. Despite being able to pronounce M&Ms and sprinkles now, he still says it the other way because he knows I find it endearing.
Walked back to the car, got in, pushed button. Nothing.
Great.
Pushed it again. Nothing. Kept pushing it, kept doing nothing. ARGH!!!!
So I was forced to call my dad, who was actually mowing my lawn at that moment, so my mom answered his phone, to come rescue us. She drove down, gave us the key fob and we were able to then start the car.
RANT. Why the hell would anyone NOT want a key???? Just having a fob leads to this sort of problem. And it has led to this exact problem on more than one occasion for me, in both the Corvette and their Cadillac. It makes me insane. Is a key really that big of an inconvenience that they had to engineer it completely out of the picture? REALLY? I think not! Give me a key any day. And if you have a fob, LEAVE IT IN THE *#@&(*%#& CAR, NOT YOUR POCKET!!! Then when you get out and let someone else drive it, you won't leave them stranded. RANT OVER.
He stopped in our driveway and asked if we wanted to take the car for a spin. Hell yes!
We drove around the neighborhood for a bit and then decided to go get ice cream at our favorite place. We parked, and I pushed the button to turn the car off. Yes, you push a button to turn the car off, there is no key. I was worried right then because I realized that I would need the key fob to turn the car back on and my cursory inspection of the car turned up no key fob. I hastily pushed the button and to my relief, the car turned back on. Ahhh, problem solved. Either the fob was indeed somewhere in the car, or it didn't need to be in the car to start it.
We got out of the car and I didn't bother trying to lock the car because its a convertible for Pete's sake - you could just reach in and take anything you wanted. We walked up and got our ice cream. My was pistachio ice cream - and there must have been $15 worth of pistachios in my serving, holy crap there were a lot of pistachios in that! Offspring got his usual "N & Ns and sminkles", but they were out of "sminkles" so it was just M&Ms in vanilla. Despite being able to pronounce M&Ms and sprinkles now, he still says it the other way because he knows I find it endearing.
Walked back to the car, got in, pushed button. Nothing.
Great.
Pushed it again. Nothing. Kept pushing it, kept doing nothing. ARGH!!!!
So I was forced to call my dad, who was actually mowing my lawn at that moment, so my mom answered his phone, to come rescue us. She drove down, gave us the key fob and we were able to then start the car.
RANT. Why the hell would anyone NOT want a key???? Just having a fob leads to this sort of problem. And it has led to this exact problem on more than one occasion for me, in both the Corvette and their Cadillac. It makes me insane. Is a key really that big of an inconvenience that they had to engineer it completely out of the picture? REALLY? I think not! Give me a key any day. And if you have a fob, LEAVE IT IN THE *#@&(*%#& CAR, NOT YOUR POCKET!!! Then when you get out and let someone else drive it, you won't leave them stranded. RANT OVER.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Hands down the scariest flight I have ever been on
I took a quick business trip to Phoenix and the way back was a bit exciting. And not the kind of excitement that I like. I flew from PHX to Las Vegas, where I was to connect home to Raleigh. Am connecting to Raleigh I should say, because I am actually posting this from the air. There is WiFi on the flight from Las Vegas to Raleigh. So I have given away the punch line of this story: I live.
The pilot came on near the end of the flight from Phoenix, at about 10,000 feet, to tell us the approach and landing in Las Vegas would be bumpy. OK, no biggie, that happens all the time, <insert jersey girl here> whatevah. As we got closer though, it became rapidly obvious that to even this exceptionally experienced and blasé flyer that he was not kidding about bumpy. He came on again and said that winds were nearing 40 mph, and to be sure to fasten our seatbelts tightly. I cinched up my belt.
Down, down, down we went, and the plane lurched and skated, skittered side to side with truly frightening moves. The wings were dipping up and down wildly, tilting us up and down 45 degrees at least each direction and then flopping us 45 degrees the other direction - all the way, doing that skating on ice sort of thing were it feels like the plane is sliding, which is from cross winds. The luggage bins started popping open and bags fell out. My backpack and other people's things dislodged from under our seats and slid all over the place. I kept hoping and hoping and hoping and HOPING that we would swing around and try a different approach or return to Phoenix or go ANYWHERE but windy Las Vegas, but the plane continued to get lower and lower. This went on for a good 7-8 minutes. Trust me, this is a very long time. Try timing it and see how long it is and then imagine lurching like that for 7-8 minutes.
I was sitting in an exit row and realized 'holy crap, I may have to USE this exit door!'. As we got closer to the ground, the winds and turbulence only got worse, not better. When the runway was in sight, I was absolutely petrified. I was afraid for my life, and I am not kidding. I was literally afraid the plane was going to crash, and I had good reason to be scared. The wings were still tilting at alarming angles and I (and pretty much everyone else) was afraid one would slam into the ground before the wheels would hit the ground. The flight attendant came on and said "Hold on everybody!". I have never heard that from a fight attendant in all of my years of flying.
I braced myself, staring out the window at the wings, hoping and hoping and hoping that they wouldn't hit the runway when BANG, we slammed into the runway like an elephant onto a china cup, which of course caused even more bags to fall out and scatter. But we were down, safe, and I could have kissed the ground. The flight attendant got on again and said "We're all still here!". And I absolutely have never heard anything remotely like that from a flight attendant. Navigating all of the bins and bags was interesting, trying to match bags to people as we tried to exit. People were holding up bags and hollering "whose bag is this?" but we all managed to get our bags and luckily, no one was hit on the head by a falling bag.
As it turns out, the winds were exactly 1 mph lower than the limit for closing the airport, so I did have good reason to fear for my life. They did close the airport for 50 minutes shortly after our flight because the Raleigh flight was delayed on takeoff. Trust me, that was one delay I was MORE than happy to tolerate.
Now let's hope for no wind in Raleigh, eh?
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