Tips for Karaoke

Doing karaoke at Weetacon last night for the first time in many years reminded me of a few tips I thought I'd share with anyone who actually reads this. Learn from my mistakes!

Tip #1: Make sure before you request a song that you've actually listened to it at least once in the last 5 years. Listening to it a few times in the last 5 years is even better.

Song(s) I learned this from: Lady Marmalade, Gin and Juice, Nothin' But a G Thang

Tip #2: If you're going to do a duet/trio/quartet, decide who is going to do what part before you actually get microphones in hand.

Song(s) I learned this from: Lady Marmalade

Tip #3: If you're going to do a rap song, it is incredibly helpful to actually know the song.

Song(s) I learned this from: Gin and Juice, Nothin' But a G Thang

Tip #4: No one raps as well as Jessi (biensoul). Certainly not me. I can try to fill in for her, but had no hope of actually being able to.

Song(s) I learned this from: Gin and Juice, Nothin' But a G Thang

Tip #5: If you don't have the vocal ability to perform a song you want to do, put your own spin on it. Sing it with gusto. Perform it with as much emotion as you possibly can. Turn it into a spoken-word performance. People will appreciate the effort you put into it.

Request for Donations

I have actual entries to write and post soon, but I just wanted to post a quick message. If you have a couple of minutes, please check out this project on Kickstarter.org. I went to school with the editor of the project and have made a $75 pledge to help them out.

Please take a look at the short video and make a donation if you can afford to do so. It looks like the finished film will be phenomenal!

Believe the Beat: Hip Hop Dance in Rio de Janiero

Thanks! I hope everyone has a wonderful weekend!

Commercials That Annoy Me, Part 1

There are a bunch of commercials on TV these days that either piss me off or make me laugh every time I see them. Following are some of those commercials and explanations for why they're on my shit list.

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*The Volkswagen Routan commercial in which they show a dad driving a bunch of kids around, during which they watch people punch each other in the arm and say, "Blue one!" Then the dad gets the car home, one kid says, "Can we do it again?" and the dad says yes. Really, Volkswagen? Is this a family of sadists, who just like driving around and causing people to punch each other? Why don't you find a less evil hobby?

*Those J.G. Wentworth commercials with people screaming out their windows that "it's my money and I need it now!" That's nice, people. However, unless the annuity company has a representative standing on the street near your house, shut the hell up. Then again, you can always tell the cops why you were screaming out your window when they show up after someone calls to report a noise complaint. I think you'd have better luck just calling the toll-free number on the commercial. That, and your neighbors will be a bit less likely to kill you.

*The Pep Boys commercials with the people talking to the Pep Boys bobble head dolls. Excuse me, people...those are (not living) bobble head dolls that you are talking to and expecting answers from. In reality, that would get you thrown in the hospital on a 5150 hold for 72 hours, so they can make sure you're a) sane and b) not a danger to yourself or others. If you're going to talk to inanimate objects, maybe you should try to do it only in the comfort of your own home, so you have fewer witnesses to your insanity.

Things Are Not Always As They Seem

I know that people probably think that my life is all wine and roses, or at least that it must seem like that from the outside. Most people think "Oh, she's so lucky. She doesn't have to work!"

However, the reality of the situation is this: In one year of dating and eight years, four months and five days of marriage, the longest I have ever seen my husband is one month, and that was once, in September of 2009, when he took his sabbatical from work. The next longest amount of time is probably two weeks, and that occurs about once a year, usually around Christmastime.

Recently, my husband worked from home for two weeks during the holiday season and I loved having him home all that time. However, his going back to work was made even more sad by the fact that I know I won't see him for more than three days in a row again until...August. The August that is seven months from now.

In truth, I would gladly trade not having to work for being able to see my husband more than 3 days a week. Having to cram a week's worth of living into three days at a time is not only unrealistic, it's also totally exhausting. During weeks when we have my step-daughter over the weekend, we end up getting about five hours of quality alone-time on Sunday night to relax and enjoy each others company before we have to go to bed. Five hours a week. Woo!

When people ask me about having babies, my stock response is "when The Mister stops traveling so much". Who knows when that will be, but that's pretty much what is required. Otherwise, I would be pregnant and still in charge of cleaning the litter boxes a few times a week, which I understand is somewhat of a problem for pregnant ladies. (Well, if you're susceptible to toxoplasmosis, which not all women are.) But still... I have no desire to be either pregnant or have a small child while still being on my own most of the time.

Now, being alone quite a lot of the time isn't always bad. I think I'm better at problem-solving certain issues, and I'm much more independent than I would be otherwise. I also don't get tired of The Mister being around when he actually is, like a lot of other women seem to. I think that, though, is another one of those things where the grass is always greener.

I look forward to the day when I can actually see and interact with my husband on a daily or almost-daily basis. Hopefully that won't be another nine years from now. *fingers crossed!*

Finally Posting Old Entries

Hey everyone!

Please do not adjust your televisions (or laptops...you know what I mean). I am actually updating again. I decided to finally finish and publish some of the blog entries that have been sitting as "drafts" since last year sometime. Sorry if they're less than timely.

I have these huge mental lists of things I want to write about, and they're starting to take up too much room in my brain. I need to start taking 10 minutes to write about my day, or whatever's on my mind. I recently had to write down all my various medical diagnoses and the approximate dates they were diagnosed. Luckily, I have a lot of that information in this blog. I was able to come here, do a quick search and find what I needed.

I think I need to stop being so focused on being funny or amusing and just write about what's going on. I have plenty of funny and/or amusing entries already.

Besides, it's not like I have the 150 readers on this blog that I did on my old one. *grin* Just kidding! That's not why I write!

Another conversation

My husband and I were on the phone this past Monday night. (No, that's not the funny part.) While we were talking, I was trying to clear a space on the dining room table so I could lay out some newspaper on which I could repaint our wind chime. Here's how it went:

Me: Ew. I found some weird sticky red stuff on the table.
TheMr.: What is it?
Me: I do not know. I had to scrape it off, though.
TheMr.: I think TheChild was eating something near the middle chair this weekend.
Me: Well, the spot I found at first was near the end of the table. Then I looked and found another red sticky spot of ick near the middle chair. Jeez! How does she manage to get stuff on everything?!?*
TheMr.: *laughs*
Me: I still like my idea of cutting a head hole in a large vinyl tablecloth and making her wear it while she eats.**
TheMr.: We could do that!
Me: Of course, that wouldn't protect the house. Maybe we should make her wear the tablecloth/bib and then cover everything near her with plastic.
TheMr.: Maybe we should just start making her eat everything outside.


*Earlier this year, we had to establish a "no wiping your hands on the dog!" rule, after I discovered strawberry jelly that had dried on Sawyer's back.

**On Sunday morning TheChild and TheMister went to Panera to get breakfast stuff and bring it back to the house. During the ride home, TheChild managed to spill hot chocolate on her (brand freaking new) skirt. Once they were home, she managed to spill hot chocolate all down the front of her (brand freaking new) shirt.

An Update To An Old Expression

This morning, while TheMister was getting all of his stuff gathered so that he could throw it into the truck and drive to Indy, we had a very amusing conversation.

I said, "Spectacles, testicles, wallet and watch?*"

He said, "Actually, for me it's more like 'spectacles, testicles, wallet, watch, keys, cell phone, iPod'."

And with that, an old expression has been updated.

*'Spectacles, testicles, wallet and watch' is an old expression I learned from an ex that was supposed to help men make sure they had everything they needed before they left the house. (And, according to J-Sis, is also how the Catholic church teaches children how to cross themselves.)

One Less Worry

I was trying to figure out earlier this week how we were going to tell TheChild about Azrael. It turns out that I didn't really need to worry about it. According to TheMister, my mother-in-law took the liberty of telling TheChild while talking to her on the phone a few days ago. Upon telling TheMister about it, he said, "I really wish you hadn't done that."

She said, "Why not?"

He said, "Um...because we're her parents and we really wanted to tell her. Plus, it's something that we wanted to tell her in person. That's not really something you tell someone over the phone."

She said, "Oh, I didn't even think of that."

Gah. This is yet another example in a long line of examples of my mother-in-law's severe boundary issues. I won't go into the details, but suffice it to say that we might either be having (yet another) come-to-Jesus meeting with her soon, or I might just punch her some time in the near future. At this point I'm pretty damn sure that just talking to her about things has no effect on anything whatsoever, no matter how much she assures us that she understands the message we're trying to get across to her at the time.

The amusing thing about my husband telling me this last night was that I had a dream that sort of mirrors this theme a few weeks ago. In the dream, TheMister and I told his mom we were pregnant, after which his mom took it upon herself to tell TheChild before we had a chance to talk to her. So I called her a 'fucking bitch'. Apparently I said the 'fucking bitch' part out loud because TheMister asked me the next morning who I was swearing at in my sleep. Heh. I thought it was just a dumb dream. Who would have thought it was a prophetic one?

Imagination is a Muscle

I don't care what anyone says...I think the imagination is like a muscle: if you don't exercise it regularly, it will at the very least atrophy, if not disappear altogether. (Okay, so unused muscles don't actually disappear, but you grok my meaning, right?)

It actually makes me sad to think that if TheMister or I ever asked TheChild to tell us a story that doesn't already exist, she most likely couldn't come up with one. She might try to tell us a story that comes from one of her many cartoons. I think that might actually be the most likely source for her, since her contributions to conversation are often something she found funny in a cartoon, which usually turns out to be not nearly as amusing in the retelling of it as it was to her at the time.

A couple of months ago, she actually used a cardboard box in which something had been delivered to the house to make herself a fort. I was so excited that she was finally using her imagination for something! Then I realized she got the idea out of a book she was reading.

Every time she comes to TheMister or I and says, "I'm bored!", it bothers the hell out of me.

At one point I told her, "It is our job to buy you toys to play with. It is your job to figure out how to amuse yourself with said toys. "

At another point I said, "We are not a cruise line or a summer camp. We don't have every hour of every day scheduled out with activities we will be doing to amuse you. We shouldn't have to entertain you ALL THE TIME. Sometimes we have to actually get stuff done and you'll have to amuse yourself for a while."

I don't know if it's because I spent so much time reading as a kid, or because I just naturally figured out how to entertain myself for long periods of time in my head. Someone could name an object - any object - and I could tell you at least a few ways to entertain yourself with it. If you gave me a stick, I'd say you could pretend it was a sword and fence with it, write in the dirt with it, or collect bugs by getting them to crawl on it. If you had paper and a pencil, you could draw something, write a story or your own Mad Libs or fold the paper into paper airplanes or origami.

I think that all of TheChild's tv watching and video game playing have actually made her imagination shrivel up like a raisin. (There is actually a study that proves that more than 2 hours of tv-watching a day actually makes kids lose IQ points. There's truth to the nickname "idiot box".

This article basically proves my point: http://www.wtsp.com/news/local/story.aspx?storyid=108363

This is a great source of information about the effect of TV on children: http://kidshealth.org/parent/positive/family/tv_affects_child.html#

Study about kids' TV and computer habits: http://www.cnn.com/2003/HEALTH/parenting/10/28/tv.kids/

Study about kids and language development: http://www.switched.com/2009/06/02/tv-hinders-kids-language-development-study-says/

So...what do you think? Does imagination fall into the "use it or lose it" category?

The Hardest Decision

TheMister and I made an incredibly difficult decision this week. We finally decided to put Azrael to sleep.

Why? She's had chronic pyelonephritis pretty much since we got her. For the last few years, she would be sick about a week or two, during which we'd give her antibiotics and pain medication, and then she would get better for a few months before having another bout of "the pee-pee" (as we called it). The past four or five months, though, it has been pretty much continuous.

When she was sick it must have been hell for her. She was constantly on "high alert" and ready to run if anyone moved anywhere near her. She was never truly relaxed, even when she was sleeping or when someone was petting her. That, even on its own, must have been exhausting for her.

She felt like she was peeing razor blades because of the crystals in her urine. Giving her the medicine that would make her feel better required two people. We knew that someday her kidneys would fail and we'd have to give her IV fluids under the skin of her back - something that sounded even less possible.

She was also fighting with the two other cats and had started hiding behind things so she could ambush the puppy and smack him around. She spent most of her time hiding or sleeping in our bedroom. I felt like I barely saw her for the past few months, except for the times when she was sick and would follow me around and bite me if I didn't pet her.

Basically, it came down to one thing: her quality of life was suffering. So, we called the vet this past Thursday and made an appointment for Friday at 3:00 PM. As soon as he got off the phone, TheMister became emotional, as did I. We were making a life-or-death decision for another living being and neither of us was 100% sure that it was the right one. We both wanted to make sure that we were doing it for the right reasons...because it was best for her and not because we had gotten tired of cleaning her pee off everything we owned.

On Friday morning we went to find a nice box to bury her in and a statue of some kind as a memorial for her, to place over her grave. Then we ran to Lowe's to buy some rose bushes to plant around her. We also gave her a can of tuna fish a couple of hours before her appointment. We figured she deserved a treat.



The drive to the vet's office was emotional and difficult. I had hoped to at least make it to the vet's office before I lost it, but I only made it about 1/4 of the way there before I broke down. When we got to the vet's office, we brought the tissue box in from the truck because we knew we'd need tissues before we even got into the exam room.

The actual procedure was basically painless for Azrael...not so much for us. The vet explained everything he was going to do before he did it. He gave her an IM injection of anesthetic, told us that it would take 3 to 5 minutes for her to go into a sleep state and he would check on us in a few minutes. Once she was deep in the sleep state, he put the tourniquet around her front left leg, found a vein, and slowly injected more of the anesthetic into it. We waited a minute while the vet listened to her heart. He said, "her heart has in fact stopped. You can stay in here for as long as you like. Again, I'm so sorry."

When all was said and done, the thing that struck both of us about the whole situation was that when we brought her into the exam room, we removed the top of the carrier she was in and she just laid there. She seemed totally relaxed. Normally when I take her to the vet she's freaking out and frantically looking for somewhere to hide. I think it says a lot that despite our being in the exam room at the vet's office while we waited for him to euthanize her, she was calmer than she had been in probably six months. I think she was ready.

We brought her home and took the top off the carrier so Sawyer and Callie could smell her to see what was going on and/or to say goodbye. Then TheMister put her into the box we bought for her, surrounded by soft mauve fleece, curled up like she used to curl up in her bed.





We buried her and put in the rose bushes this afternoon. We both think that area is very pretty now.

Below are some more pictures.



Close-up of the angel statue



Rest in peace, Azrael. We will miss you.

Jesus. and Ouch.

There must be some sort of exercise that people are supposed to do during the winter to keep them in shape for mowing the lawn in the summer. Apparently I have neglected to do whatever this exercise is. (Unless it's sitting on your ass and eating, because I've definitely been doing that particular activity on a regular basis.)

I mowed this morning. I now feel like I was on the wrong side of a severe ass kicking by several ninjas. My back hurts. My arms hurt. My feet hurt. Both my hands have painful areas on them from pushing the smaller wire handle on the mower against the larger rubber handle, which is sort of required in order to keep the mower running. (Note to self: Either wear gardening gloves and mow when you won't get weird tan lines from wearing them or find another way to protect your palms from this issue. Perhaps using zip ties to hold the smaller handle to the larger handle?)

I need to shower, but I'm sort of hesitant to do so because I'm afraid my arms will be pretty much useless and the water will hurt my hands.

Waahhh!

This Is Why It's Pointless For Me To Clean

I've been cleaning today. I have received many reminders as to why it's essentially pointless for me to clean. One such example?

6:12 PM - The windows in both french doors are clean and spotless, both inside and outside. (I have photographic proof.)

6:20 PM - The windows in both french doors have nose prints on both sides and one door has puppy snot dripping down the glass. Yummy!

I told TheMister when he called earlier that I was just going to keep vacuuming the house continually until he got home, so he could see that I did, in fact, clean. Thoroughly. Even if you'd never know it, unless you actually witnessed it.

Best Spam Subject Lines

I, like many people, get insane amounts of stupid spam. For some reason, the spammers are exceptionally concerned about the size of my penis. Following are some of the best subject lines from recent spam messages as well as my thoughts upon seeing them.

(These are not in any particular order.)

*Pop goes your weasel
Great, now I have that song in my head. (Remember that song from the 80's?) Also, who wants to walk around with a weasel in their pants?

*Become bigger and cooler and start loving a ruler.
Umm...I give them points for rhyming. However, isn't the whole point of all these stupid 'grow your penis' spam e-mails to enlarge your penis so you can have sex with lots of ladies? I have a feeling that if you're a guy who loves measuring your penis with a ruler, you have way more spare time than someone who's out banging chicks all the time.

*Our pills will make you look like a champagne bottle.
Okay, I don't know about the rest of you ladies out there, but if I saw a penis coming at me that was the size of a champagne bottle, I would be less turned on and more scared. All I can think of is "ouch!" And perhaps, "What exactly is in those pills?"

You hate talking about your dimensions? Now you will love it.
Again, if you enjoy talking about the size of your penis in detail, chances are you're not getting laid real often.

Be proud of your biggest achievement that shines in your pants.
Wow, really? These pills will make your penis shiny? Vain ladies might like that, if they can see themselves in it. Chicks with ADD might dig it... "As for the bailout of the auto industry and the financial corporations...Oooh, shiny!"

Women love to be possessed by handsome men who are well-blessed.
Umm...first of all, I don't really know any women who like being "possessed". Secondly, will it work if you're just one or the other? What if you're not handsome but are well-blessed? If you are in fact not handsome but are well-blessed, how exactly do you get that message across to people upon meeting them without seeming like a perverted weirdo? "Hi! I may not be that handsome, but check THIS out!"

So, what are some of the best spam subject lines you've seen lately?

I Am a Spaz

I went to the doctor today for my annual physical/trip to Stirrup Land. Everything went well, she said everything looked good, gave me the written prescriptions I needed, blah blah...then she said I had to get blood drawn.

I said, "Damn it! I was hoping to get out of here without having to be poked."

She said, "Sorry...no. But, none of the blood work I ordered has to be done after you fast or anything, so you can get it done whenever. It doesn't have to be today."

I thought about it on the way out of the suite and decided that I might as well do it while I was already there. (Because I am a Big Girl! Hooray for me!)

So, I went to the lab at my doctor's office, where I waited for a few minutes with several ladies who were at least 3 times my age, before being called back.

The phlebotomy lady had issues with my insurance card (of course, since we have the anti-insurance that is basically a VISA card) and after about 5 minutes of messing around with the computer, she finally decided to deal with the insurance stuff later.

She got the three vials out and set them on the desk, and then grabbed the needle. I said, "Hooray! Needles! My favorite!"

She laughed and did the deed. And put full blood vial after full blood vial onto the desk, right where I happened to be looking.

I sat there for a few seconds after she was done and thought I felt fine. I made it out of the lab, down the hall and out the front doors before it happened.

I remember thinking, "wow, everything looks really BRIGHT...", and then "are my legs still moving?" and then "wow, everything looks kinda sideways" and then *BAM!!* I was on the ground.

Things went sort of dark for a minute, and then I heard, "Whoa! Are you okay?"

I blinked my eyes a few times and shook the cobwebs out of my head and looked up to see a guy coming over.

He said, "Are you okay? I just saw you take a tumble." Then he held his hand out to me and helped me stand up.

He asked me again if I was okay, and I said, "I just had blood drawn and I thought I was okay, but apparently I was wrong!"

He said, "I can't believe they just let you leave."

I said, "Well, I didn't feel dizzy or anything until...I fell down, I guess."

Then he walked with me to the truck, keeping an eye on me so I didn't fall down again, and told me to sit for a few minutes before I tried to drive.

He said, "My name is Donovan, by the way, just in case we ever run into each other again."

I told him my name, he told me to feel better and I thanked him again for helping me out. We got into our respective vehicles. I sat in the truck for a few minutes, leaned the seat back and breathed deeply, trying to make all the stupid black dots I was seeing go away. I got a few glucose tablets out of my purse and took them, in case my dizziness was blood sugar related.

Once the glucose tablets kicked in and my vision was clear, I headed home.

I am so glad that someone stopped to help me when I fell on my ass right outside the doctor's office, otherwise someone dropping off a patient at the front doors might have run me over or something. I probably would have had to just sit there in the driveway for about 5 minutes, until my head cleared. I'm glad he made sure I got to the truck okay, instead of just helping me stand up and then walking away. It's nice to have a reminder that people can actually be decent and kind and willing to help someone they don't know, instead of just laughing at the girl who fell on her ass and then continuing on their way.

So, my advice to anyone reading this? Perform a random act of kindness today. It doesn't need to be something huge or something that requires you to spend a lot of money. Sometimes the simplest things mean the most.

Happy Thursday!

Total Randomness

*Today I watched Sawyer stand still for two minutes while Callie sniffed his mane and his muzzle. She was apparently very interested in where he had been sticking his head while he was outside. The thing that struck me was that he just stood there so patiently. Normally, unless he's sleeping, he constantly moves around like a 5-year-old on crack. While Callie sniffed him, he just stood there, almost unmoving, like there was nowhere else he'd rather be, nothing else he'd rather be doing... He was just happy to let her sniff him until she was done.

*Sawyer and Kate have proven to be an excellent team while hunting... Sawyer distracts the squirrel while Kate quietly stalks it. If they actually end up catching anything, we might have to reconsider putting out all the corn and birdseed we usually have in the backyard. I'd hate to be responsible for luring birds and/or squirrels to their bloody deaths. (Who knew a dog and cat could work so well together?)

*I realized a couple of weekends ago why I normally don't watch those Worst Car Chases or Accidents Caught On Tape type of shows... I tend to hold my breath while the story unfolds, as if me successfully holding my breath until the story is over will affect the outcome. I am a strange bird, I know.

*Callie has actually been making short trips outside this week. The first time she went outside she made it about 2-1/2 feet outside the door before hearing a noise that startled her and bolting back inside. Yesterday she actually was outside long enough to make a complete exploration of the area under the deck, which is one of Kate's favorite places. Probably by the time summer rolls around, she'll actually be outside for enough time to play with Kate and Sawyer. Our thinking is that if she goes outside, she'll run around, and will therefore lose some of her (immense) weight and won't end up with diabetes.

*My lovely husband bought a new toilet seat last Sunday. Now, instead of a toilet seat that has a purple tinge (due to Clorox cleaner with Teflon), a spot of nail polish on the lid, and chunks of the acrylic missing, we have a toilet seat that feels like an angel is cradling your ass in his or her hands when you sit down. It's lovely!

*While Sawyer used to scratch at the door any time he wanted inside or outside, he now scratches when he's outside and wants Kate, myself or Callie (or some combination of the three) to come outside with him. I haven't decided yet whether it's his herding instinct that causes him to want us all to be together, or if he just enjoys playing outside with his person and kitty companions. All I know is that he seems to have appointed himself "Cruise Director".

Commercial Ranting

Has anyone seen those stupid high fructose corn syrup commercials (HFCS) they've been playing on TV lately? The ones in which people are shocked that their friends or loved ones are trying to give them products with high fructose corn syrup in them because it's, you know, bad...or whatever.

"You know what they say about high fructose corn syrup..."

"No, what?"

"Well, uhh...."

My favorite part? The end of the commercials where it says in tiny, tiny print 'Paid for by the Corn Refiners Association'. Because really, why would the industry in charge of refining corn into HFCS lie to us? Just so they can continue to make money from a product they create and have a vested interest in continuing to sell, whether it has a negative health effect on people or not? That would be silly!

Here's What Happened

On January 4th of this year, TheMister's cell phone rang around 2 PM. He said, "Oh, hi L-Mom!...Oh my god...is he okay?"

I thought, "Holy crap, Dad accidentally cut a fingertip or something off again."

TheMister said, "Yeah, no problem. I'll call J-Sis and HalfSis and let them know what's going on. I'll take care of it."

I thought, "Oh my god, Dad's DEAD!"

I sat there in tense silence, my heart racing, trying to figure out what the hell was going on based only on his side of the conversation.

After what seemed like a half hour, but was more like 2 minutes, he got off the phone.

He said, "Okay, that was your mom... She said that your dad had a small stroke this morning, but they're at the hospital right now and he seems to be doing better."

I said, "OH. MY. GOD."

He told me he was sorry he didn't tell me what was going on during the phone call, but he figured my mom had about 2 minutes of coherant speech in her before she lost it and he wanted to get all the information he could. He then called J-Sis and let her know what was going on. When it came time to call HalfSis, we realized that neither of us had her current phone number. Oops! We decided to go over to my parents' house to get HalfSis's number from their address book. We threw the puppy in the truck and drove over there.

It was very quiet when we got there. I got their address book out of the drawer where it's kept while TheMister looked around to make sure there wasn't anything that my mom wouldn't want to see when she got home. Sawyer kept running down the hallway looking for Grandma and Grandpa. TheMister found the package the nasal cannula came in on the bed and threw it away. Then he made(ish) the bed.

TheMister decided we should take their address book to the hospital with us, so we stuck it in a Ziploc bag. Then he went through the pockets of my dad's jeans and found his wallet, so we could take that as well. He asked, "Does your dad wear glasses?" I told him he did, and that he had glasses all over the house. TheMister grabbed one of the pairs of glasses off the living room table and stuck them in the bag with the address book and wallet.

We finally decided things looked okay and headed to Panera for some sandwiches, since we were hungry and TheMister thought that my mom would probably not have taken the time to eat anything with everything that was going on. After we left Panera we stopped at home and dropped Sawyer off so we could head to the hospital to see if anyone needed anything.

We started at Bronson's ER, but found out that my dad had been moved to the ICU, so we headed up there. On the way to the ICU, we saw my mom using a computer, getting ready to send out an e-mail letting people know what was going on. As soon as she saw us, she started crying. She said, "I was doing fine until I saw you guys." TheMister hugged her for a minute while she cried and then she calmed down a bit. We all sat down in some chairs in a waiting area and she told us what happened...

Around 12:30 PM, my dad tried to get out of bed and his left leg sort of gave out, causing him to fall into his dresser and hit his head, which left a pretty good bruise on his right ear. Then, being my dad and thinking his leg must have been asleep or something, he thought he'd get back in bed and try again a few minutes later. When he tried again, his leg gave out again and he fell into the mirrored closet doors. After a third try at getting up, my mom finally convinced him that if he fell all the way to the floor, there was no way she could pick him up all by herself, so he let her call an ambulance.

Once he got to the hospital, he was diagnosed with a hemorrhagic stroke, probably caused by high blood pressure. His blood pressure was 220/something when he first came in and had been in the HIGH range for about 10 years before that. Using two different blood pressure meds, the doctor finally got his blood pressure down to a reasonable number shortly before we got there.

After the doctor placed his central line, we were able to go into his room. It was kind of disconcerting and upsetting to see how little control he had over the left side of his body when we first got there. His speech was very slurred and it made him difficult to understand. A minute after we got there, we told him we had glasses for him, which he was happy to hear. Luckily, TheMister had grabbed his actual glasses and not reading ones, so he was finally able to see for the first time in several hours. The doctor came into the room to check on him and let us know what was going on. He said that where he bled in his brain is the best place to have a stroke, if you could control where you had one. It was in the right rear part of his head. There aren't a lot of functions that are controlled by the brain right there, so it’s easier to come back from.

About 45 minutes after we got there, they took him for a CT scan with contrast. While he was gone for that, TheMister, my mom and I sat down to eat the sandwiches we had brought from Panera. We were all pretty hungry by then.

When he came back into the room, the doctor told us that based on the CT scan he had shortly after he was admitted and the one he had just had with contrast dye, they determined that the bleed hadn't gotten any worse in that time. He said the brain is really not a big fan of free-floating blood and that if there wasn't any actual damage to the brain, my dad would probably get better as the blood was absorbed.

By the time J-Sis and her hubby got there, Dad had more control over the left side of his body, his speech was slightly less slurred and he had stopped accusing my mom of hiding his left hand where he couldn't find it. We left there around 6 PM so Dad could rest, since he seemed tired.

He ended up staying in the ICU for a few days before being moved to the stroke unit. After a few days in the stroke unit, he was moved to the Inpatient Stroke Rehabilitation Unit at Borgess, where he spent two weeks. Doctors originally told him that it would take about 6 months of hard work to get everything functioning normally again. He was actually doing much, much better after two weeks of having both Occupational Therapy and Physical Therapy twice a day. He was released to go home on January 23rd.

He's doing much better now. He even cleared himself to drive to physical therapy last week because my mom was sick and couldn't. It's almost miraculous that he's doing as well as he is, but it's probably due in large part to his stubbornness and determination and to his body's amazing ability to continually heal itself from whatever he's done to it. It's also due to my mom being able to convince him that she should call an ambulance within an hour or so of the stroke.

Everyone who reads this should go to the following link to get information on how to recognize a stroke: http://www.strokeassociation.org/presenter.jhtml?identifier=1020 Knowing this information could save your life or the life of someone you love.

There. Finally. Done. It only took me 8 days to finish this entry.

Blogging Constipation

I think I have a case of blogging constipation. My magical notebook has a really long list of things I want to write about here, but I haven't quite gotten around to doing it yet. I also have a bunch of entries already on this website that are still in the DRAFT stage, but I haven't yet had the gumption to actually finish them. I'm thinking it's because there's something I was going to write about, but then time sort of got away from me and it started to seem like old news. I think, though, that if I finally write about it in here, the brain constipation I've been experiencing will go away.

Well, I guess we'll find out if my theory is correct or not...

Photo of the Week X

Here's another photo of the week for you! I took this on a beautiful foggy morning this past week when I had to get up early to take Sawyer to the groomer. I saw this scene and had to stop and take a photo.

If you like it, you can find the print here!

Theory About Memory

I was speaking to TheChild the other day and she brought up something from several years ago. After thinking about it for a while, I developed a theory.

According to a hypnotherapist I once saw, every single experience, dream, thought and interpretation of these that we have ever had is stored in our memories - even if some of them have become subconscious.

Perhaps when we are children we have had so few experiences that all of them are readily available and easily accessed within our minds.

By the time a person reaches my age, they have had so many experiences, etc. that the area for storage in the brain has compressed or partitioned some of the information. (Similar to a computer compressing files or creating partitions to free up more space for new information.) As we get older, we have to work harder to locate the information/memories/experiences that we know are in there.

It has always seemed to me that a brain is like a large house with many rooms. Some areas are like junk rooms, filled with totally random information behind a loosely closed door. Other memories are shoved way down into the dark, dank basements, after which the door is closed, locked and then boarded up. Some memories are merely wandering the halls, killing time until they are remembered again.

Wow. That was deep.

Happy Friday!