Seceding from the family

Offspring announced tonight that he was seceding from the family.  I burst into a huge fit of laughter because, well, it was funny.  I asked him why and he said "I don't know, it just seems like a good idea".  I proceeded to tell him that meant he couldn't stay in the house, he'd have to live outside, after which he took a lawn chair, his coat, flashlight and his pack (see previous post) full of gadgets and sat outside in the dark. I came into the bedroom to tell Wheeler about this development and Wheeler promptly said "Well, he can't be on our family property if he secedes from the family" so I went outside and kicked him off our property.  And then I told him there was no trespassing in our neighborhood, so the park just behind us was out too. It was at that point, plus the enticement of dinner, that he came back in and decided not to secede after all.  Turns out they are studying when North Carolina seceded from the Union during the Civil War and he thought freedom sounded pretty darn fun.  Until he realized the full ramifications - like dinner and a bed to sleep in!

This is what three 11 year old boys at an overnight birthday party sound like.  There's no video, its just sound.  Listen and enjoy..... I triple dog dare you not to smile while listening.

Fantastic apple pie

I brought a ton of apples back from Alabama and made a pie this weekend.  It was pretty darn good, but I made another one tonight and although I haven't yet cut into it .... you be the judge:

Here is the recipe:

CRUST: 2 cups of Pamela's gluten free flour + 1/2 cup sugar + 1 tsp salt + 1 tsp cinnamon + 2/3 cup vegetable oil + 1/4 cup half & half (or milk).  Stir together with a fork until well mixed and crumbly.  Press 2/3 of the mixture into a pie pan and reserve the rest out to crumble on the top.  [note: It's sort of an art to press the crust into the pan, you have to make sure its even and consistent across the bottom of the pan and up the sides.  My first effort kinda sucked, but my second I was able to get it right]


FILLING: Peel, core and thinly slice about 14 small apples (e.g. baseball sized), maybe about 6 cups?   I didn't measure, I just cut up enough till it looked like the right amount to generously (heaping) fill up the pie pan.  You can always just eat the extra filling alone if you make too much, so err on making too much rather than not enough. Melt on low one full stick of butter in a large sauté pan, add the apples and 1 cup of sugar. Cook on medium for 10-15 mins, until the apples start to soften and the mixture starts to turn caramel-ish.  Add lots of cinnamon (to taste) and at the very end, stir in about 1/4 to 1/2 cup of Pamela's GF flour to thicken up the filling.

Pour entire filling into the pie crust, cover lightly with foil.  Bake at 400 degrees for 45 minutes.  Remove foil for last 3-5 mins to brown top crust, but watch carefully as the topping burns easily at that temperature.

EAT!

What are the odds of THAT?

I went to the first home preseason Canes game last Friday, and I went alone because we only had one ticket, and even though I could have gotten ahold of more than one ticket, Wheeler wasn't feeling well from another UTI.  The ticket was on the upper deck and the place was deserted.  It was excruciatingly dull to watch the game alone from that high up, and so I considered leaving after the 1st period.  Instead I decided to upgrade my situation - since it is just preseason, and the place was really empty, the ushers didn't care about people moving down after the 1st.  So I moved down to about 8 rows up off the ice and enjoyed the 2nd period much more. 

Between the 2nd and the 3rd, the little boy seated in front of me turns around and says "Ma'am? Does your son go to (insert my kid's elementary school name here)".  I looked stunned and said "Yes?" and he said "Are you Offspring's mom?", to which I said with surprise "Yes...", to which he replied "I'm Matthew and I'm in his class".

[insert feather]  Me  [insert fallen over]

This arena has almost 18,000 seats people - what are the odds of that?  A kid in my kid's class - and that he recognized me, and that I picked that seat out of all the seats on the lower level to sit in.  And that he was brave enough to speak up and say hello (my kid would have sat in silence and said nothing).  Bizarre.  Life is stranger than fiction sometimes.

The longest mile

On the walk to school today:

Mom, what would you do if Dog pooped on the sidewalk right in front of you?


Mom, what would you do if Deuce pooped so much that the bag wouldn't hold it all? 


Mom, what would you do if Dog had massive diarrhea all over your shoes? 


Mom, what would you do if Dogley barfed up his breakfast right here on the sidewalk? 


Mom, what would you do if ...

Sigh.

It was a very long mile.

I have to fill out this form again WHY?

I took Offspring to the asthma doctor this morning, and the receptionist handed me a form to fill out that was exactly the same as the form at the top of his chart that she was holding.  The form has on it his name, date of birth, address, phone number, insurance, parent's names, etc.  Nothing on the form is about medications or things that or symptoms, just demographics and insurance (which could change, but in our case, hadn't). 

She: please update this form.

Me: <glancing> oh, it's all the same, nothing has changed.</glancing>

She: <snippy> well, you still have to fill it out again.</snippy>

Me: (I take it and look at it more carefully)

Me: <politely> Ma'am, every single thing on this form is exactly the same, not one thing has changed, so there's really no point in me filling it out again.</politely>

She: <not politely=""> You still have to fill it out.  </not>

Me: <annoyed> Well can't I just cross out the date on that one and call it good enough?</annoyed>

She:  <loudly> NO. </loudly>

Me:  <crossly> FINE. </crossly>

Hrumph! How stupid it that?????  It was literally word for word 100% the same.  

And while I'm on the subject, why the hell do I have to HAND COPY down our insurance policy number, group number, address for claims, employer, blahdee blahdee, when they photocopy the damn PRINTED CARD (that you can, say, actually read versus my shitty handwriting) when you walk in?  And they take your photo ID and copy that too (just in case they need someone's ID for the Friday beer run??). 

Hrumph!!!

Me versus the self checkout machine

I hate the self checkout at the grocery store, I really do.  I never, ever use it if I can avoid it.  Even if I have only a few things, I will gladly stand in a long line behind people with a giant cartload of things because I hate self checkouts, and more saliently, they hate me.  They really do, I'm not making that up.  Today I had no choice though; I went to the store and there were no checkers available; I was forced to use the self checkouts with my 12 items.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Me: stare at it with trepidation

Me: take deep breath

It: stares back at me menacingly, taunting me

Me: key in my phone number

It: doesn't recognize it, arches its eyebrows at me

SCORE 0-1, me-it

Me: type in another phone number

It: beeps

SCORE 1-1, me-it

Me: swipe my first item

It: silence

SCORE 1-2, me-it

Me: swipe it again

It: silence

SCORE 1-3, me-it

Me: try again

It: beep

Me: AH-HA!!

SCORE 2-3, me-it

Me: place thingy in bag

It: objects furiously telling me to take item off weigher area and to wait for assistance

Me: I remove it and wait

Me: I wait

Me: I wait suh mo

Me: No one comes

SCORE 2-4, me-it

Me: Still no one comes

Me: I swipe it again.

It: beep

Me: I put it in the bag

It:  objects furiously telling me to take item off weigher area and to wait for assistance

Me: I remove it and wait

Me: I wait

Me: I wait suh mo

Me: No one comes

SCORE 2-5, me-it

Me: I let out primal ARGHHHHHHH that I'm pretty sure was heard in the meat section in the back.

Me: Swipe item again.

It: beep (apparently scared by my yell)

Me: I place item in bag

It: silence (ahhhh)

SCORE 3-5, me-it

Me: Swipe next item

It: beep

Me: Swipe next item

It: Please place previous item on the weigher

Me: I ALREADY DID YOU PIECE OF SHHHH....

REVISED SCORE: 2-6, me-it


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The end score ended up something around 12-738.

Have I mentioned how much I hate self check out lines?  It took me, no kidding, about 10 minutes to purchase my 12 items.  I'm still not sure that I actually either paid for everything or didn't pay for something twice.  I didn't look at my receipt because I didn't really want to know; perhaps the score was 11-739, or 13 to 737.  Grocery store checker-outer is clearly not in my career future.  

Snakey needs his beauty sleep too

I love this boy.  He makes his bed every single morning and cleans up the upstairs every single night.  This morning when he made up his bed, he carefully placed Snakey in bed:

The dogs days of summer are coming to an end, finally.  I am sitting on my back porch in the shade, there is a breeze, its 84 and the two dogs are laying here by me; in short - perfect.  Yesterday afternoon was just as nice.  Offspring and a friend played in the sand box volleyball court in our neighborhood after taking the dogs for a really long walk.  I left them there to play longer while I brought the dogs home as I had to start dinner.  Offspring's dad happened by while I was at home making dinner and thankfully gave me a heads up (see how I got that cute little volleyball reference in) that Offspring had been buried to his neck - YES HIS NECK - in sand when he got there.  Grrrrrreat.

I decided to scuttle my previous plan of just having him take off his shoes and shirt when he got home. I had already posted a giant sign on the door that said

STOP!  

TAKE OFF CLOTHES  

THEN KNOCK!  

DO NOT COME IN!

I needed instead take more drastic measures.  So I waited on the driveway when his dad said they were coming back. I sent his friend home and directed Offspring round to the front porch where I was watering the flowers with the hose.  That was the cover story anyway.  I told Offspring to take his shirt and pants off - behind all the flowers and rail no one could see him strip down to his skivvies I said, and much to my shock he did not object; he promptly undressed.  The moment he was (mostly) naked, I turned the hose on him full.  He shrieked with shock and then started laughing like a wild youthful* hyena, which made me laugh, which made him laugh even harder.  I'm sure our neighbors must have thought we'd lost our damn minds (note: we had).

It took me a good 3-4 minutes to get the sand mostly off.  It was everywhere, and I mean everywhere in on and around his body, every crevice crack and fold.  After I finished hosing him down,  I sent him straight to our shower downstairs where more and more and more sand continued to come off his body.  I had to wash his hair really well to get it all (mostly all) out, and I had really hosed out his hair outside too.  And now there is this very annoying fine layer of sand all over the house - and it figures, Uncle Air Force had swept the floors just that morning.

I can't fathom how any sand is left at the sand box volleyball court.

* I will admit I don't know what a young vs old hyena sounds like, but his tiny little boy voice cackling and laughing was so darn cute that I had to add 'youthful' to this description

Categories on my IPod

I just discovered my iPhone is also an iPod.  Yeah, I know.  Shuddup.  In addition to albums/artists, I made up these playlists, with an exemplar in parantheses. 

Country Top 40 (Dirt Road Anthem by Jason Aldean)
Dance (Bootylicious by Beyonce .... could anyone else sing a song by that title?)
Fun (Jive Talkin' by Bee Gees)
Loud ( (Supermassive Black Hole by Muse)
Mellow (Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol)
Misc Good Stuff (Bleeding Love by Leona Lewis)
Sad (Hallelujah by Jeff Buckley)

Noteworthy for those on Facebook: the Chicken Dance is under fun. 

Gluten free shmuten free

I am constantly amazed at the variety of creative and effusive expressions used on gluten free packaging to claim that their gluten free product tastes amazingly like the gluten original or even more preposterously, better than the gluten original.  Here are some that jump to mind. 

"So delicious that you won't even notice the difference!" -----> yes, you will

"Tastes just like the real thing!" -----> no, it doesn't

"Flavorful and tasty - just like the real thing!" -----> insert basketball buzzer: ERRRRRRRTTTT

This last one is the one that was on the package Kinnikinnick S'more Style Graham Gluten Free Crackers (try saying that fast even sober) that I used in banana pudding tonight.  They were D-I-S-G-U-S-T-I-N-G. 

"Gluten free has never tasted so good!" ----->  so horrid that even the DOGS wouldn't eat them

We watched part of The Hunt For Red October tonight  A key part of the movie is that the Ramius, played by Sean Connery, posts a letter to the Russian head honchos stating that he intends to defect with the Red October before he sets sail.  It is, as he says, motivation to remain undetected to the Russians chasing him because as a result of the letter the entire Russian fleet have instructions to find him and sync his boat.  

Well, that's the way that Offspring heard it.

But I didn't want a puppy

When contemplating getting another dog recently, I put the big ix nay on getting a puppy.  I refused to even look at a puppy because I knew that if I held a puppy that I would immediately run to the front desk of the shelter, plunk down the money to buy, run home and snuggle it to death.  Then I'd immediately have buyer's remorse when it would pee on my floors, chomp my shoes, woodwork, bark, chase everything in sight, eat anything not nailed down and generally make a pest of itself.  So we "window shopped" online and picked out Blue from the hundreds of NON-puppies at the Wake County animal shelter.  He was estimated to be between 1 and 2 years old.  Good enough for me!

Turns out when we got him though that he was quite sick and was tremendously hurt.  His pelvis was fractured in 4 places, as was his femur, along with a few fractured ribs and a broken jaw thrown in just for fun.  His hip socket was shattered so completely that his bone had formed a pseudojoint, meaning that the head of the hip joint carved out a socket for itself in the spine itself.  Then toss in hepatitis, a case of worms and some sort of upper respiratory infection, and this dog was a basket case.

When the physical rehabilitation vet saw the X-rays, the first thing he said was "how are you alive?".  Yes, he saw not only our regular vet, but also the NC State orthopedic vets and a physical therapist specialist vet too... can we all say expensive?  But he's worth it.....well, maybe.

After all of the treatments, the passage of 6 weeks, and lots and lots of exercise to strength his very badly injured back left leg, he is playful, full of pep, impish and rambunctious now.  He used to be lethargic and rather pathetic to be honest.  I called him my little old man.  He slept ALL the time, he didn't play, and he was just downright tired.  NO MORE.  He is a new dog.He is now a puppy.  Having been a stray and having probably missed his puppy hood having to fend for himself in the wild with a hideous painful injury, he is now all WOOOOO-HOOOOO I GET TO BE A BABY DOG NOW!!!! and he is sure living it up.  In the last week he has: eaten 2 buttons off of one of my favorite pair of shoes (expensive shoes by the way)*, he chewed and made a mess of one shoe of at least 3 pairs of shoes (I think the PTSD made me lose count around 3, so it could be more).  He also chewed and ate 3 different sections of the baseboards/chair rails (poor Wheeler, he could hear Blue chewing at the baseboards but could do nada to make him stop).

Crate training, coming right up!


* Due to the distinct possibility of the buttons causing a traffic jam in important areas between Point A and Point B in Blue's body, I needed to be sure that said button actually made it from Point A to Point B.  Therefore I began to carry plastic gloves with me on my walks with Blue to check all material that emerged from Point B to see if it contained said buttons, until such time as said buttons appeared.  Thankfully, after 4 checks, the two buttons appeared and I no longer needed to suss through his poo.  

 

Life ain't fair

Compare these two Blue Cross Blue Shield plans. 

Type	Wheeler & Me	Offspring (dad)
PCP visit	$30	$20
Specialist visit	$70	$20
PT/OT/etc	$52	$20
Mental health	$92	$20
Urgent care	$87	$10
ER	$233 + 20%	$100
Cost per month	$604	$47
Thoughts:	WTF????	Awesome

Sucks to be us eh?

Me versus the Lab Fee

Today we received a bill in the mail for a lab service for Wheeler's recent uroanalysis.  When we took in the sample last week, we took in his new insurance care (which is now Medicare .... geeeeee lucky us) and made a huge massive giant large point to say that HE HAS NEW INSURANCE AND HERE IS HIS NEW CARD and to PLEASE PLEASE PLEASSSSSSSE BILL THE LAB TO MEDICARE THANKYOUVERYMUCH.  They said of course they would, no problem ma'am. 

I'm sure you know where this is going, right? 

[If you're really dense (say, like the people at the medical office apparently) and don't know where this is going, read line 1 again).] 

So the bill is for $201.86.  For a lousy C&S??  And that was just the C&S, not the $50 in lab handling and mailing charges that were sent separately.  No wonder healthcare costs are spiraling out of control.  That and $47,000 wheelchairs.  I digress.  But I love to bring that up as often as I can for the shock factor.  Yes, his chair actually cost $47,000.  Fer real doods, it totally did. 

Back to the $201.86, which now sounds sorta cheap, but anyway, this was processed without any insurance, so they need to have his Medicare applied to it.  I searched the bill and on the front it says in big print "You can easily and quickly update your insurance information on our website! See back for details".  I duly turned the bill and searched and searched for the website.  I finally found it in the 3rd paragraph of the legal disclaimer section in print so small that even my bifocals were foiled.  Nevertheless, with the address in hand, I went to the website and was confronted with two field for entry - "Account number" and "Zip code" - and two buttons, of which one was to be chosen - "Pay by Bank Account" or "Pay by Credit Card".  Now, knowing that they foiled me with teeeeeeensy tiny fine print to find the website address, I whipped out a microscope and searched the screen to find the &*(@#% section that said "Update my insurance information" but alas, it was not there.  I even filled out the account information and zip code and clicked the two payment options (serially) to see if there was a sneaky poorly designed way to update insurance information there, but there wasn't. 

Grrrrrr. 

So I did what I hate hate hate to do more than most anything else.  I picked up the phone.  I dialed the number listed on the form for "friendly 24 hour a day service". 

Brrrrrrr-ring, brrrrrr-ring....  Hello!  Press 1 for Spanish! Press 2 for silence! Press 3 for Musak!  Press 4 for Pig Latin!  Press 5 for Braille!  For all others, stay on the line.  ... (Musak here) .... To pay your bill by bank account press 1!  To pay your bill by credit card press 2! For all others, please note that we are closed.  Click.

Gee thanks.

It's damn hot out there

Offspring's homework answers

From his homework this week: Would you like to live in the mountains of North Carolina in the late 1800s?  Write a paragraph and explain your thoughts. 

"Yes and no. Yes, because living in a cabin with a fire and home-made furniture and clothes would be fun and cozy.  It would also have no T.V., just real, true fun, like dancing and storytelling.  Also, it would be nice to work together with your neighbors.

No, because I could catch a cold and die from it, or cut myself, get an infection, be miserable for a bit and die.  I would have to leave things behind, and leave friends behind it could be sad. A fire could also kill us all, and I don't get proper education.

But overall, I think I would choose yes."

The first step was to recognize I have a problem.

1. I have admitted that I am powerless over the disaster that is my front lawn—that my lawn has become totally and completely unmanageable.
2. I have come to believe that something somewhere greater than myself could restore my lawn to green.
3. I have made a decision to turn my will and my life with regard to lawn care over to the care of Scott’s Turf Builder.
4. I have made a searching and fearless moral inventory of the all of the weeds in my front lawn.
5. I have admitted to the home owner’s association, my neighbors, and my facebook friends the exact nature of my wrongs (see photos).
6. I am entirely ready to have Scott’s Turf Builder remove all these defects of my lawn.
7. I have humbly asked (ok, begged and prayed for) Scott’s Turf Builder to remove my lawn’s shortcomings.
8. I have made a list of all neighbors I have harmed with our lousy front lawn appearance, and have become willing to make amends to them all.
9. I have tried to made direct amends to such neighbors wherever possible, except when to do so would cause them to actually have to look at my front lawn while I apologized.
10. I have continued to take personal inventory, and commit that when I allow new weeds to promulgate, to promptly kill them.
11. I have sought through hard labor, blood, sweat and tears, to improve my lawn’s contact with Scotts Turf Builder, praying that it works, and the elbow grease required to carry that out.
12. I, having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, will try to carry this message to other lawn offenders, and to also practice these principles in my side and back yards.

Today we mopped all the floors and rearranged the living room.  This was Offspring's idea.  A bit odd, but as he pointed out, I can sit in the morning with my coffee and contemplate the birds out the window.  I've had worse ideas ..... 

Steaks, robotics, and the van breaking down

So Friday we went to Angus Barn for our anniversary dinner with my parents.  It was their 45th, our 6th.  That made a combined 51 years of marriage at one table.  We sat at a table for four that was very close to a table for 2, in a little alcove area.  For the first half of dinner, an older couple sat at the table for 2 and I kid you not: said nothing the entire time.  Nothing.  NOTHING!  I started getting the giggles about it but managed to squelch them.  I mean who orders their food, eats it, pays and leaves, all the while saying not a single word to each other.  Not one word.  Ok, not to beat a dead horse, but they just sat there and stared at each other.  It was like a twisted game of verbal chicken, but neither swerved.  All I could think was perhaps after 60+ years of marriage (that would be my guess), one runs out of things to say???  It was downright weird ... and funny! 

The next two people to sit there - most importantly, spoke to one another, and secondly, were quite friendly.  We struck up a conversation with them and turns out they were up from Atlanta to see their son participate in a robotics competition the next day at Dorton.  It sounded very interesting (especially to a 10 year old boy), so we exchanged numbers and promised to see them the next day.  

Then we left.  Or rather, tried to leave.  We got out to the van, got Wheeler loaded in, strapped down and then .... tick tick tick.  Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick.  Van wouldn't start.  Absolutely zilch power in the battery.  Great......  The valet guy went and got someone to try to jump us, but that didn't work either.  It was around then that I remembered I didn't have Wheeler's manual chair in the van.  This is important because it was looking increasingly likely that the van would need to be towed, and a) he can't be towed IN the van (against all the rules for towing joints) and b) that 500 pound behemoth doesn't fit in any other normal vehicle, so he'd have to drive his chair home.  Except we were 15 miles from home.  Worst case I (with ALOT OF HELP) could get him out of the power chair, out of the van and into the manual chair, and from that into a regular car, since the manual chair folds down.  But first someone would have to fetch the chair from our garage instead of the back of the van (WHERE WE ALWAYS STORE IT FOR EXACTLY THIS REASON), drive it to us, etc.  

Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick.  My dad calls the towing company.  I start dialing the phone to call Offspring's dad to see if he'll get the manual chair from our house and bring it there.  Just then .... cough cough sputter.  Ah ha!  It didn't start, but it was sounding more promising.  We all hang up our phone calls, cross all available appendages and try again.  Cough cough, varoommmmmm.  YAY!  It started.  We drove home, and we were supposed to stop by to get Offspring on the way back, but my dad and Wheeler both suggested we not press our luck and just go home first.  The speedometer starting bouncing around erractically, the odometer stopped working, and it shifted itself into a low gear all by itself while driving down the freeway.  And it's a good thing we did - we pulled in the driveway and it literally died 10 feet in off the street.  Now THAT is some kinda timing.  

The next day we went to the robotics competition and found the people we had dinner next to.  They were really really nice and explained the whole thing to us - and as it turned out, their son's team won the whole shebang!  These were the regionals and they will go to the nationals in St. Louis at the end of this month.  I'll be sure to follow the results on their website.  It was alot of fun watching it, Offspring was totally awestruck.  I am going to see if I can sign him up for the junior Lego league.

And now ask me .... go on..... "have you put the manual chair in the van yet?"..

No.

I am an idiot!

Offspring's choir concert

Last night Offspring was in the school choir concert.  He chose to be in the choir as its optional, which surprised (and delighted) me.  First they played 3 songs on the recorder.  Hot Cross Buns, Merrily We Roll Again and some other song I didn't recognize.  Then there was a "challenge" song that only the best recorder players got to play.  I assumed he wouldn't be in the challenge one, but damn if he wasn't.  I was really proud of him.  The funny part is that the challenge song was ..... wait for it .... Bad Bad Leroy Brown, which completely cracked me up.  However, laughing hysterically is generally frowned upon during a 4th grade concert, so I had to stifle myself.  Then the choir sang 5 songs, which was really really cute.  And no, I will not subject anyone to listening to it, although I did of course video it.  The best part was seeing him all dressed up in black pants, brand new black dress shoes, and a white dress shirt.  He looked SO cute.  Man, I love that kid. 

Some days it is good to be a dog

Brazilian Knot Bread - Gluten Free

1-1/2 cups tapioca flour (look carefully in the flour aisle or gluten free section)

1/3 cup oil

2/3 cup milk

1 egg

dash salt

1 cup packed shredded cheese (any type, I used a colby jack mix)

Mix in a high speed blender (think margueritas) for 1-2 min until silky smooth.  Grease a mini muffin pan and pour the liquid (which will be very very thin) up to the top of each cup.  Put in a 400 degree oven for 15-20 minutes.  And the fun part is watching them bake - they will first form a sink hole, then they will start to puff and puff and puff and PUFF ... and some will fall over, making it look like a knot of sorts.  And be sure to make a double batch as they are DELICIOUS.  They have a truly unique stretchy taste, almost a chewy bagel consistency.  

Oh go on now, try them.  You'll like them.  And report back if you do. 

A misadventure

So. 

Last night, Wheeler needed to be pulled up in the bed - with our bed it moves up and down and tilts feet or bed up.  Normally I just lay the bed flat, stand with my feet on either side of his shoulder, grab him by the arm pits and just pull him up.  But he hadn't had a shower in 4 days and honestly, he stunk.  So I decided to trendelenberg the head down and feet up at a really steep angle so that I could just grab the bedpad under him and pull him.  When I do that, it takes barely any energy at all, and I don't have to grab his pits.  I began tilting the head down when I heard a very loud hiss, which was shortly followed by a bunch of yellow powder billowing out from behind my half of the bed.  You know how time slows down when something traumatic happens?  It was like that - it seems like it took me forever to put together what happened - which was that I had hit the fire extinguisher and it was spraying yellow fire repellent powder EVERYWHERE. 

I ran behind the bed as fast as I could, grabbed it and stopped it from blowing.  Then I coughed, choked and sputtered from a large portion of it going down into my lungs.  If I die of lung cancer I'll know why.  Thank god Offspring wasn't here, with his asthma that would have been an even bigger disaster than it was already.  Then, I just stood there and saw that the all the air in the room was a haze of particles.  I ran to the bathroom and got a wet washcloth, which I put over Wheeler's mouth and nose - with his severely compromised lung function the last thing I wanted was for him to suck down the powder and get pneumonia.  After that I just walked around in a daze.  After a bit, I sat down on the bed and just tried to collect myself because I was near tears. 

A few minutes later, I decided to do something that I never do.  I asked for help.  I called up to Uncle Air Force's room and told him what happened, and asked if he'd help me clean up.  He did so, and was tremendously helpful.  The two of us devised a multi-step process.  First, we got everything off the floor - everything but the furniture.  Any bedding or clothing went in the hall into what turned into a ginormous pile to be washed.  Then I wiped off the furniture  Then we vacuumed the floor, and I was pleasantly surprised by how well that worked - it got probably 90% of it up off the floor.  Then I took my handheld Dyson sucker-upper and cleaned up the chair rail and baseboards.  Then Uncle Air Force started mopping.  Between the two of us we mopped the entire floor in the bedroom and hall.  Then he started to severely itch and had to go take a shower.  It never did bother me, and thank goodness because that stuff wasn't going to clean itself up. 

I mopped floor entirely two more full times, just using water.  Then I got Wheeler into the sling over to the shower chair, and gave him a head to toe major washing - but that was after I took a shower first.  Or rather, a co-shower, we were both in there at the same time.  And I washed my hair better than its probably ever been washed in my life (and Gee My Hair Smells Terrific today).  After his shower, I stripped our master bed, the only bedding I hadn't gotten out of the room at that point.  Then I put all new bed clothes on, fresh sheets, blankets, sheepskin, bed pad.  Put him back in bed, and mopped one more time for good measure.  Fed the dog, let him out, and then collapsed into bed. 

Woke up this morning and the bedroom looks great!  Its never been so clean, and it sure looks huge now that everything had been removed and I only put back stuff that actually should be in there.  But as I was sitting here on the couch with the sun streaming in I could see powder on the floor out here.  Obviously the powder was in the vents and got sucked up and blown around out here.  So I mopped the entire floor in the kitchen and living room and hall - which is ALOT of floor space in this joint.  Now I am finally sitting down and vowing to keep the pins in the fire extinguisher at all times.

Because I have done this before. .