What a Birthday!

I keep forgetting to tell you about something we saw in Vegas last November.

We always go to Fremont.  You haven't been to Vegas if you haven't spent an evening there.  It was one of the places where you look around and say "This is what I thought Vegas would be like."  It is the true human circus.

There are laser light shows every hour on the hour.  It is one of the most fantastic things I have ever witnessed.  Lights, music, and everyone enjoying the show is just amazingly overwhelming.

As it was this past time.  This time though we noticed that there was a private party in the middle of  the "street." We commented that it was a great idea and how much would it cost and we should remember that someday.

Then it was time for the light show.  Unlike the other shows, it wasn't rock music.  It was "What A Wonderful World" and instead of the usual graphics, there were photographs.  Family photographs.  We were a little puzzled until we heard exclamations
.
It was a woman's 60th birthday.  This was her birthday party. Her family made this happen.

They provided her favorite songs and generations of photographs.  Weddings, birthdays, camping trips, babies, graduations, funny portraits, school pictures.  They had every part of her life represented in pictures.

You can't help but shed some sentimental tears over that, now can you?  It was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen.

Here is a photo from Google Images because I can't find the one I took:

Closet Monsters

I can't go asleep if the closet door is open.  The open windows are fine, the bathroom door is fine and I'm meh about the bedroom door.

But the closet cannot be open.  No way. not even.

I had a wardrobe in my childhood bedroom and I don't remember being worried about closet monsters then.  But I can tell you about every apartment/townhouse/duplex/house that I have lived in as an adult.  All of them needed to have the closet door closed.

I realize that I'm forty-three years old but it's a fact.  Closet monsters exist.

Right?

I Discovered that I'm a Puritan

Firstly, I struggled with an appropriate title for this post. You will understand why in a minute.

We had dinner with our Canadian friends the other night and a most interesting topic came about.  As it was a group of men, mostly, sex came into the conversation.  Our friend said that every one of his co-workers (men) complain about their lack of sex lives.   This is not uncommon or new news from the male population.  I will leave out the more graphic, yet very funny, details. (it was about the men, not the women)

What he did say after that made me feel decidedly American:

"They just go down to Hastings Street and get a rub and tug"

Oh.

Well.

Hmmmm.

The other guys were in tacit agreement so it's not unusual, apparently.

It's not like I don't know that such "services" exist.  It was just the matter-of-fact-ness that set me back.  It was my first personal example of where other countries call the Americans puritanical when it comes to sex.  I felt suddenly very American.

The Yellow Dog

Everyone who lives out here has a dog.  It's a country thing.  We know most all the dogs by name or at very least by face.

There is one dog that we only occasionally see .  On the really rainy, London-ish kind of days The Yellow Dog appears.  He is a long haired Golden Retriever and is always soaking wet.  (yes, rain = wet dog. I'm genius)

But that is the only time we see him.  On the rainy days.  Never on the sunny ones.  When he does visit, he doesn't come near us at all, always keeping a distance or even a fence between us.

People don't come looking for him. Unlike our friend Winston the white sheepdog that occasionally comes to visit, much to the frustration of his owner who has to take a car to come get him.  (dogs travel as the crow flies, humans not so much)

I talk to him but he always looks bewildered, almost as if he is surprised that I see him.  Missy is unconcerned with him most times, which is unusual as she has a strong dislike of other dogs who aren't Lucky Dog.

We've decided that he must be a Ghost dog.  It's the only explanation.

P.S.  The Ghost dog just appeared. On a sunny day!  And I thought "I will get a picture!  How great is this!"

My camera locked up and wouldn't work.  I swear to God. 

It's a ghost dog, I'm telling you.

My Stories!

My attachment to the television has only grown stronger over the last three months.  The DVR is full of shows that I watch now that I didn't before.

So of course, the dvr would decide now is a good time to give it up.  The poor tech person has been here two hours trying to figure out WTF is up with our system.

Because of all this, we have lost all our dvr recordings.  Gone are the last two episodes of GLEE, which are my go-to bad mood eradicators.  Gone is my favorite Rob Dyrdek's Fantasty Factory episode. Gone are twenty episodes of the Ghost Whisperer.

Oh the horror.

Positive side: we will have whole home dvr which doubles our recording capacity, because we obviously need MORE to watch.  I'll be able to watch the dvr in our bedroom where previously we could not.

I so should have done this twelve weeks ago.

The tech guy looks like someone I used to date.  I mean A lot, other than the height.  It's not a little bit strange.  I wish Kevin was here to say "OMG, he totally looks like him."

Our bedroom door slams occasionally.  I'm sure it's just the breeze that does it but there is always the slim chance that it's my dad haunting the house. When it slammed just now, I made this joke to the tech guy.  He looked a little startled.  I guess not everyone believes in ghosts.

Now I get the joy of rebuilding our recording list, the channel list, and making all the user-friendly tweaks that I feel compelled to fiddle with.  But in the meanwhile, I am going to mourn the loss of all my stories I had saved.

I think I need bigger problems.

Don't Hold Your Breath

I didn't know that I did it until I was living with Kevin: I hold my breath.  Specifically in stressful times, like when the flight/fight/freeze impulse kicks in. 

Think the dentist chair, think being in the hospital, think being in a confrontation.

I did some research and it's a coping skill that many children of alcoholics develop quirks like this.  It's about making yourself smaller, invisible, and not drawing attention to yourself.


Luckily for me I was aware of this prior to going into the hospital.  I could warn the paramedics, nurses, etc that I do it as not to panic if alarms went off. 

I love this song for a variety of reasons and I think of it often when I find myself in stressful situations.  I love how a song can do that.

What If? A New Concept

 I think we've discussed this before: wondering what the hell someone is doing with their spouse/partner/boy-girlfriend and if there is anything we can do about it.

I liked this guy's take on it: Salon: Stop the wedding!  Instead of trying to figure out ways to change the person's mind, he asks "What if?"

"What if your friend had a need to be controlled and manipulated? What if his fiancée were meeting that need? Would it be wrong of her to meet that need?

What if he has a strong need to not make decisions and a strong need to avoid conflict?"

 

Isn't that fantastic? Everyone sees things through their own filter, it's human nature.  As an extremely independent person, it would have never Occurred to me that someone might not WANT to be independent. Might, in fact, enjoy being not in control.  To quote Phoebe Buffett "This is completely new information to me!!"

And really, why do we even care?  I mean, sure it's nice to see your friends happy and with people who we enjoy.  But all in all, it's their relationship and not ours. It's really none of our business.

Then he finishes it up with this Epic Mindblowing Concept that I love:

 

"Another way to look at your friend’s situation is to consider the possibility that he is getting ready for something but is not ready yet. Maybe his soul is getting ready. Say a fierce battle awaits the soul. We can be in a holding pattern. There is not much to do while waiting for the soul’s great challenge. So we amuse ourselves with pastimes. Maybe she is a pastime. Maybe he is waiting."

Doesn't that just give you a little light of hope for your friend in this situation?  And for me, although I thought I understood the concept, it showed me again that being married to Michael for that eighteen months prepared me for other things in my adult life. That seemingly waste of time served a purpose!

I just enjoyed reading and learning a whole new perspective about an issue we've all experienced and have had frustrations with.  I had to share.

Plan Your Trips

One of the new things I've learned with this whole adventure is also a skill that I was taught in middle school home economics: clean as you go.  But I had to expand it to "plan your trip."

My middle school home ec teacher must have had OCD because she insisted that everything be cleaned as you go.  Something is simmering? clean the counter, something is baking? wash the dishes.  Waiting for the iron to heat? clean up your mess.  You get the idea.

And I do that.  I think that's part of the reason that I am not the best cook: I get caught up in the details.  I'm cleaning up while something is cooking and next thing we know: burnt.  (it's not actually that bad)

 Meanwhile...

One of the better pieces of advice that a charge nurse gave me was "Plan your trips".  This was when I was on bedrest.  If it's time to go potty, figure out what you need and get it while you're up.  Get some water and a snack.  Pick up whatever has fallen out of your reach.  Put on that sweatshirt.

This took thinking ahead, which is not always my strong suit.  But now it's become a habit, which is nice.

Now I pick up  the bathroom before I leave it.  I clean the bedroom before I leave it then I can settle in the living room without having to return to either of those rooms unless I really need to.

The most difficult one is leaving the house.  It is an effort (still) to get out to the truck so I have to make sure I have everything before closing the door. (ahem...keys...cough)

I'm back at work for a measly 3-4 hours a day and I'm having to relearn this skill all over again.  It has been surprising to me how much I walked around in my job.   Now that I can't just hop up and do something, I have to think it through.

Overall, I think this is a good skill to grow.  I believe it will make me a little more thorough and economical in my movements. Just imagine when I am at full speed again.  Just look at what I will accomplish!

Sole Portraits

My little brother had a girlfriend once that was a good photographer. She gave him a portrait for Christmas of his shoes on a beach somewhere.

It was her thing,  taking photos of a person's shoes. Either the ones they wore every day or a special pair. She also would personalize the setting or background.

At the time I thought it was kind of weird but now I think it could be kind of genius. Everyone has shoes, everyone has favorites,  and really a lot can be guessed from a persons shoes.

I've seen portraits done with combat boots and fire boots. They always bring a strong emotional response. Why would this not be true for your husband's sneakers or your grandma's Keds?

What shoes would you have photographed?

Rocking the Cane

our friend Paul took this picture of me this weekend.  I really need to talk to him about Thou Shalt Not Photograph Women From Behind Ever.

I am not supposed to be on the racetrack but I am Me after all.

Recovery

I've watched all the episodes of Grey's Anatomy while I've been home.  Every single one.  Yesterday, as I was pouting in the recliner, another episode came on with the opening monologue voiced by the Meredith character.

I don't remember the exact words because see above reference to pouting but the topic was recovery.  The last part was (paraphrasing) that the recovery process is actually more difficult than the actual injury or the cure.

Amen, sister.  Sing it.

I've diligently tried to be upbeat and positive through this whole g.d. thing but I failed yesterday. Huge.

We went racing this weekend so I was at the racetrack Friday through Sunday.  I did a lot of self-care while there but I also pushed my physical boundaries.  And I paid for it.

Monday found me swollen and sore beyond imagination.  If I were a different  person, I would have so taken the last two pain meds that I have and just knocked myself out for the day.  But that is giving in and I'm not that person.

I couldn't even complete physical therapy, which is just pathetic to me.  Turns out: I don't enjoy failure much.  I'm still annoyed about it.

Twelve weeks as of yesterday have passed.  I have seven to eight more weeks left before I'm "healed".  Right now, I feel like I'm back at the starting line.  I'm frustrated and angry.

I want to not hurt, I want to wear normal shoes, I want to bust my cane in half.  What I'm coming to realize is that even after all this, none of those listed things are probably going to happen.  I am going to hurt, I don't get to wear sandals or high heels again, and while they hope I don't need a cane, I just might.  G.D. it. (now you know how frustrated I am, using G.D. it and risking eternal damnation...haha)

So, it's a beautiful day as summer has finally reached the Pacific Northwest.  The dog is sleeping on the cool kitchen floor, and all is quiet.  I have to go to work for four whole hours.  I'm going to listen to the GLEE soundtrack at an obnoxious volume and pretend that yesterday never happened.

        Some days there won't be a song in your heart. Sing anyway.  

~Emory Austin

Imposter

So we are actually at the racetrack this weekend, I never thought this weekend would happen.

This is our second day here (we're in Mission, BC) and it's the end of the day.  We just finished dinner and were sitting around just chillin' with our friends.

Our friend in the wheelchair points out that the guy looking at our car as he walked by looked like Chad Kroger of Nickleback.  Jason is really loud and the guy heard him but kept walking.  We laughed about it and was in the process of explaining that he actually grew up around here and one of our Canadian friends knows him from back in the day.

As we're joking, the dude comes back into our pits and shakes everyone's hands.  It was funny to watch everyone try to determine whether or not he was the real deal.  This guy looks pretty scrubby and too skinny but who knows.  One friend googled images, one asked if he was working on a new album.  He had new Nikes on is all I noticed.

We teased Jason  that the guy probably just took pity on him because he was in a wheelchair.  I know, we're brutal but he's just as much to us.

Word spread pretty quickly and everyone was trying to figure it out.  One of our friends actually got on the internet to check their tour schedule, which coincidentally ended in Vancouver a week or so ago.

After all is said and done, we believe it was an imposter but none of us cares because it gave us a funny story to tell.  "Hey remember that time we didn't meet Chad Kroger?"

Marriage via Texting

The other day my bff C texted me that Katie & Tom were getting divorced. I replied "Shocking, said no one ever."

Kevin has always considered Katie gorgeous so I texted him:

Me: "Katie Holmes is Available."

Kevin: "Do you have her number?"

Me: "1-800-Good-Luck-With-That"

Kevin: "Bitch"

Me: "You expected otherwise?"

Kevin: "Not really."

..............and scene.

Sneaker Shopping in Reals

I got the approval to buy new shoes and be rid of the hiking boots today.  I had to go to the mall...sigh...on the Canadian long weekend.  Fortunately for me, no one was out shopping yet.

First off, shout-out to the cool girl at Famous Footwear.  She was So helpful in finding shoes.  She brought me about six pairs of shoes from all genders and ages. 

I started the conversation with my difficulty in finding high tops for someone other than eight year old girls and Victoria Beckham.  In fact, I showed her the pictures of the blog and she kept exclaiming in dismay as she scrolled through the pictures.

Fun fact: if you need high top sneakers, apparently they can also be called skater shoes.  Otherwise you get clunky basketball shoes or Chuck Taylors.  I kind of resigned myself to either having clunky men shoes or funky skater shoes.  I decided to try to keep an open mind.

These are the first ones but they didn't have my size. I was disappointed because I actually didn't hate the pink.

image from google images

Then she brought me these and at first I was all ummm, no.  But then I kind of loved them.  Again...not in my size.  Wistful sigh.  I will say that Rob Dyrdek is one of my favorite celebrities and I got a kick out of possibly buying some of his shoes.  I will also mention that while they didn't quite fit, they were comfortable.

image from google images

Finally we landed on these.  I'm not usually a fan of all black sneakers but these are canvas and still kind of skater shoes-ish. I wore them with black Dockers and looked all hipster today.

image from google images

After almost two weeks of clomping around like a disabled Clydesdale, I am so excited to announce that I can actually walk.  I wore them out of the store, out of the mall, and to work.  Such a freaking improvement.  And I don't look like a third grader.

Fun with Interweb Searches

The hiking boots are not working for me.  The tread grips the carpet and makes walking difficult.  The two sizes too big makes walking difficult as well. 

The alternative is high top sneakers.  I did look in the stores while shopping for the boots but there literally wasn't any.  (Big 5, Kroger, REI)

I did a search this morning and OMG.  The choices are so unbelievably limited.  First, I'm not a middle schooler nor a hipster.

Second, if you want high tops, you must be "quirky".

Chuck Taylors have absolutely no support, ankle or arch.
DC's are cool but a little spendy.
The remainder I feel like I have to clarify that I'm not eight years old or Victoria Beckham.


Like  these:

Photo from Amazon.com

Photo from Zappos.com

Photo from Zappos.

Photo from Zappos.com

Stolen Voices...

This is a bit weird but worth sharing.

Way back when I was young, a young man disappeared while cruising downtown.  I remember the story because all the kids said it was foul play and the adults said no it wasn't.  It was a little contentious because who would know better if a guy had plans to disappear but his friends and classmates. (or former, as he was 18+)

Fast forward about ten-fifteen years and I'm dating Kevin.  It turns out that he knew the guy pretty well and he (the guy) was married to one of Kevin's longtime friends.  I know, small world.

Kevin & his friends were in the No Way would he disappear on purpose camp.  He had a wife, a child, and was a mama's boy.  They had even gone as far as to search for him everywhere they could think.

But he was gone, no trace.

Fast forward again about ten-fifteen years and the guys remains are found.  He was murdered after all and left behind up in the mountains.  The killer confessed after years of guilt.  It wasn't someone anyone knew.

We went to the memorial service, which was so surreal as twenty years had passed.  It became a little effed-up school reunion as "kids" gathered together to finally put him to rest.

Now, his widow has managed to have the case featured on the ID Channel. (Investigation Discovery)   The episode will air later this month, July 30th.

It will be very strange to sit down with Kevin, who actually lived through this, and watch.

Here is the link: Stolen Voices, Buried Secrets.

We've All Had Bad Haircuts

and we've all cut our own hair.  But this is the Best Story Ever.  I only wish there were pictures of the evidence.

Ten Pounds

I returned to work this week. I can manage a whole three hours A Day. I know, quite impressive.

I've done eff-all since my return. No one seems to mind but I'm a little out of sorts about it.

Then today! Today I had the best job ever:

I held a client's three month old baby for an hour. An hour of cuddles and wiggles and smiles. We even had a bottle together.

Ten pounds of pure joy and hope. For an hour. For sixty minutes all was right in my world. Babies just bring out the best, don't they?

Baby Steps

One Week Absolute Bedrest

Non Weight Bearing AND Still Bed Rest

Weight Bearing but Still Regularly Scheduled Bed Rest

Walking, albeit like a complete DORK. With a cane

Photo of the Day

Kevin found this moth hanging out on the house in the sun.  It's color matched exactly to the house.  Believe it or not, it did it on its own, Kevin didn't do it.

What Can We Do?

When I fell, we heard "What can we do?" a lot.  At the time, we were so overwhelmed, we couldn't think of what people could do.  Now, today, as I was able to clean my own house (slowly, so slowly) I thought about it.

Here's what you can give or do for someone that has been incapacitated for whatever reason:

Magazines, books, puzzle books.  Simple stuff that can permeate pain meds

Lotion...especially if you have a cast because you will SO NEED IT when it comes off.  Also, it's something soothing to do while you're just laying around.

Lip balm...someone wonderful sent me some and it turned out to be a GodSEND.
I needed it so much while I was stuck in my chair. I don't know if it was the meds or what but my lips were chapped.

Movies and mindless television suggestions.  My television rarely moved from the Lifetime channel.

Funny emails and texts.  Pain and meds make actual conversations awkward, if not entertaining.  I loved having texts while I was laying in the hospital.

Easy Food...I've said it before and you'll hear it again OMG Clif Bars. I existed on those for days.  Also, someone sent Lunchables home with Kevin.  While they are kind of awful in the way of Twinkies, they were easy to eat while sitting in a recliner.

Also, think Take-Out, casseroles, and coffee cards.  Consider the overwhelmed spouse.

That's actually another suggestion: Consider the overwhelmed spouse.  I'm so pleased with our friends who stepped up & supported Kevin. I think spouses get lost sometimes in situations like these.

Easy clothes...think track pants, cozy socks, hoodies, or baggy t-shirts.  Something that can be slept in.  I have worn nothing but these items for eleven weeks.

Volunteer to do something, or actually might I suggest to just do it.  Think laundry, vacuuming, changing bedsheets, grocery shopping. Pick up their mail.  Take them to doctor appointments.

These all seem like simple things.   It was the simple things that we needed the most help with.  Not having our bills paid, or our house painted, or the grand gestures.  It was the little things that we needed and appreciated the most.

Random Item of the Day

This is the chip basket I mentioned in a previous post.  The pantry has wire shelving and when we moved in I was getting more and more frustrated that things either wouldn't stay upright or would fall through.

My solution was a dollar store basket.  I put it on the top shelf with another one filled with cookies and a smaller one filled with snacks for Kevin.  Top shelf to keep me from temptation.  It is almost too far for me to reach, another reason for the baskets.

When I fell down, Kevin had to make his own lunches. (I usually do, every morning, while he eats breakfast. I am Old School Wife.)

When I was able, I started to make his lunches again.  But I couldn't get the walker into the pantry easily nor could I stretch to reach the baskets.  So I moved them to the bottom shelf.

I noticed that Kevin, in his mad genius ways, had begun clipping the "chip clips" to the side of the basket instead of tossing them in the drawer or in the bottom of the basket.  What a simple idea that works fantastically.

It is also an example of how another set of eyes can help improve even the simplest of systems.

These Boots Were Made for Walking

I had my appointment with the orthopedic surgeon yesterday.  Everything is healing nicely and on schedule.  That's the good news.

The bad news is two-part and not so much bad news as disappointing.

I have to wear hiking boots.  Seriously.  Hiking boots.  In July.  With a gladiator style ankle brace.  Now that's hot.

I still can't bear weight while bare-footed.  *dammit*  This means STILL no shower! For four more weeks!  Gah.  I can hobble with my brace and no hiking boot.  I'm supposed to be able to walk freely without the hiking boot by the next appointment.

Here are some fun facts about hiking boots:
They're expensive.
They're not cute.

To boot...hahahaha, get it?...I have to buy two sizes too large to accommodate the brace.  I have size 9's and I feel like I'm wearing clown feet.  (I'm sorry if you wear size 9+) So I have to wear a thick sock on the normal foot.  Did I mention it's summertime and I'm wearing hiking boots? With extra socks?  I did?  It's because I'm a little BITTER about it.

I'm back to using a cane when I walk.  I've been not using one for almost two weeks.  I hate the starting over aspect of healing.   My leg has been weakened due to the injury so it feels a little wobbly.  I'm stooped when I walk with a cane. Then add the fact that I've been walking with a five-pound weight on that leg for four weeks and now it feels weightless.  I feel like I'm goose-stepping when I walk.

I just realized that OMG, I'm Ed Grimley.

I need one of those 1950's etiquette classes that teaches good posture. I have to remember to stand straight, step lightly, and not limp (because it's a habit now).

I have to return to work on Monday.  I'm starting back at part-time to accommodate physical therapy and my lack of endurance.  It is going to be such a change after "hanging out" for the past ten weeks. I have to say that I am very surprised how quickly it has gone by. I still have 30-something Ghost Whisperer episodes to watch and a bunch of books to read.

Last night when Kevin got home from work, I was struggling to learn how to put this complicated brace on and being frustrated with the not-fitting boot.  I was sitting on the bed, having a little pity party.

He helped me with the brace, muttering just like I was.  I had him dig through the laundry basket I keep my shoes disorganized in.  I used to have a pair of hiking boots but I gave them away.  I had him check anyway, to make sure my memory wasn't wrong. 

As any man would do, he had comments on the amount and kinds of shoes I had.  He took out my dansko boots and asked "Aren't these the shoes that tried to kill you?"  (no, they're in the give-away pile)  "You don't wear these." and "Why do you even HAVE these?"

I was complaining about having boots that were too big. He suggested that I just wear the boot on the broken foot and a sneaker on the other foot.   I worried about having my hips misaligned due to the difference in shoes. 

And the fact that I would be wearing MISMATCHED shoes, like I don't have enough on my plate.  I don't look disabled enough, let's add special needs to my appearance.

So, that's what's going on around here. You know, the usual. I must say.

Signs, Signs, Everywhere Signs

Call me crazy...go ahead...but I swear I knew something was going to happen.

Like the swiffer thing.  I'd been considering that purchase for months then suddenly I needed it.

I was at a place at work where I was caught up and had things under control. If there was a good time to be gone, this was it. (sort of)

I had been on a cleaning and organizing binge.  Thank God for that or this whole disaster wouldn't have gone as smoothly as it had.

My bills were paid early. This doesn't usually happen.  Because we're not racing yet, we have more money than usual.  I haven't had to think about it almost the entire time I've been down. Kevin has been working monster hours as well so this hasn't been financially punishing.  We are So Lucky in that way. So Lucky.

We're not racing yet.  We are getting a late start this year due to scheduling and weather.  This, of course, is beyond our control but it's one more thing that went our way. Normally we would be so in the thick of it right now.

I had just brought home a few pairs of track pants.  I don't usually wear them but they were nice so I brought them home.  Now I've worn nothing else for the past two months.

Now that life is slowly regaining balance and normalcy, I keep seeing instances of Oh Yeah, I must have known something was going to happen. So weird.

24

Today finds me wistful and restless.  It always sneaks up on me and I never realize why until the day is nearly over.

Today would have been my 24th wedding anniversary had I stayed married to Michael. 

Not that I miss him in any way.  I surely do not.  In fact, I can barely remember him now.  Which is odd to me and I think that's why this day finds me wistful. It's like missing something but being unsure what or why.

When you're nineteen (I know!) you live in the now and while you think you know what the future holds or what it's like to be a grown-up, you have no idea.  I am in my forties now and I am still unsure. At nineteen, I couldn't have been more wrong.

I haven't seen Michael in twenty-two years.  He did pass me in traffic a few months ago but the only reason I knew it was him was because I have a friend that randomly mentions him.  (he lives by that friend's business) I only caught a glimpse and he didn't see me at all.

It's strange to me that someone that I had promised my eternity to is now a complete mystery to me. I can't recall the sound of his voice, the feel of his hand, or even what he really looked like.  Sure, I can cite that he had blue eyes, blonde hair, and a swimmers build (He's German) but nothing of note.

And it's a moo point as he was a guy when I last saw him and now he's a middle-aged man.  I'm sure he (nor I) look anything like he used to.  I hope that, like me, he is not the person he was then. 

But twenty-four years ago we were saying vows, posing for pictures, and celebrating with friends and family.  Now nothing of that day remains.

I don't have any of those people in my life now.  In fact, I can't think of a single one that I talk to.  Some I lost in the divorce, some to time, some by conscious decision.

It's almost like the day never happened.  Except I have the scars to prove it, hidden as they may be.  Those still remain.

It's Not Just Stuff

Of course because it's now Spring all the magazines and talk shows are having features about Spring Cleaning!!!  (their emphasis, not mine)

I swear if I hear "Get rid of sentimental clutter" one more time, you are going to see me on Good Morning America shouting them down.

I blame Oprah for this.  Years ago she had a show about Use Your Good China! Throw out your child's drawings! Why are you keeping that cup that was your grandmas? she doesn't live in it.

I think that sentimental items give comfort. I think that items remind us of who we are and where we've come from.

Yes, keeping that ugly rabbit from my childhood isn't helping me any but it isn't hurting me either.  I see no benefit from getting rid of it.  I'm not a hoarder.  It's not holding me back from living a grown-up, fulfilled life.

I just imagine people tossing out/giving away items from their past on impulse and deeply regretting it later.

My mother-in-law is a good example.  Now that she's older and her memory is starting to go, some of her things have gotten more important to her.  They have become a talisman of sorts.  Or a physical reminder of someone or something important that she would might have forgotten otherwise.

Or even I am a good example.  I have very few things from my extended family.  A dish here, a picture there.  Because we did not spend time with any of our family members, what I do have is important to me.

To say that "It's just stuff" is actually offensive to me.  I know, there are examples of people keeping things that are holding them back.  But the articles and the talk shows are geared toward us "normal" folk.

I also believe that every kid should have a box of stuff from their childhood or that has been passed down from their parents or grandparents.  We live in such a digital, disposable society now that I think we have to make an effort to keep stuff, not throw it away.

Chasing Pain

((I swear to sweet baby jesus that the accident posts will dwindle. Bear with me))

One of the things that I learned while in the hospital is the meaning (and importance) of chasing pain.  Chasing pain is letting the pain overcome your meds and/or tolerance.

For instance, letting your pain meds lapse so that by the time you take the next dose, the pain is unbearable and you have to tough it out while waiting for the meds to kick in. This is just as fun as it sounds.

As I've had plenty of time on my hands recently and perhaps may have experienced the above mentioned phenomena, I have thought about the concept of chasing pain.

Couldn't it be true and thusly applied to emotions?  How many of us have experienced the heartbreak kind of pain but just picked ourselves up and walked it off only to have it return and hit us twice as hard later?

Such as the death of a loved one, the loss of a relationship or job.  It's all loss, it's all painful.  Many of us just move on, believing that we'll just deal with it later.  Then later comes around and you're knocked to the floor with it.

I think it's important to try to acknowledge it while you're in it and move through it, if you can.  I'm not sure that I'm that kind of person.  I tend to bulldoze my way through situations then collapse later.  And because of that, have experienced chasing pain. 

It's about as much fun as chasing physical pain and the regrets are just the same.

Hmmm, must to think about this further.  What do you think?

Random Item of the Day

This painting is in our room.  As you can imagine, I've been looking at it a lot over the past bit.  It's not Great Art but it's kind of lovely.  It's very Pacific Northwest.

It hung in our old house and in the duplex before that.  It was painted by one of Kevin's great aunts, sadly neither of us knows which one.

I don't think either of us are particularly attached to it, it's just always been there.  It is kind of big so it fills up one wall nicely.

Do you have anything like this?  Something you just hang up or put out because you always have or because it's been handed down?

wonky photo courtesy of droid

Not This Guy

One of our friends, Scotty, is the nicest guy you will ever meet.  Nicest. Guy. Ever.  He never complains, he never talks smack, he will always lend you a hand. He was our hero last summer when he put the fire out on the racecar.  He became friends with Kevin when Kevin was sick. There's some serious history there.

He came for Kevin's birthday and we met him at the truck when they pulled in.  As we waited for the kids to get unbuckled, Scotty said to Kevin "I've thought about this all the way here and there's just no other way to say it. Kevin, I have cancer."

My knees buckled right there.  Thank god his wife brought out their baby girl so I could focus. I watched Kevin sway and stammer "What? what happened?" and listened carefully as he explained.

To get an NHRA license, a through physical examination has to be passed.  Scotty is also a racer and during his exam, they found something.  Thank god his license needed to be renewed or they might not have found it. (his words)

He has/had colon cancer.  They took out a section and so far, it shows that they got all of it.  He has regular exams coming up and he knows that treatment is always waiting at the door.

You know that you're going to experience this as you age.  Family members get sick and die or you hear of former classmates or coworkers that are sick.  But when it's your friend, omg, it's awful. It's so real.

We're grateful every day that it was caught early and this will hopefully just be a one time occurrence.  We just can't imagine life without Scotty. Thank god that we don't have to.

While You Were Sleeping

There's just no other way to say this: the kids have moved away.  And I hate it.

They signed the lease on the day I got hurt and started moving the day of my surgery.  By the time I was home, conscious, and sober they were gone.

It has been in the works for a while but once the ball started rolling, it went fast.  Because I was so out of it, I missed all of it.

I'm grateful for that.  I don't know that I would have handled it well.  Sure it would be fun to help unpack the kids rooms and see their excitement but still. I have gotten so used to having them around that now it seems like half the neighborhood has moved away. (well, there were five kids & two adults, I guess it did)

I miss not hearing them play outside or seeing them ride bikes past the house.  I miss having dinner with them and having them just come over for a visit. I miss seeing or hearing the bus drive by and know they're not on it.

Now I join the ranks of all other aunts and uncles, birthdays and special occasions is when we get to see them.  Sucks.

They're only twenty minutes away so I can see them anytime but I'd prefer to just be able to yell their names in quick succession and see them come running. The nephew is good at sending pictures and texts so there's that. It's just not the same.

In July it will be three years since those five crazy monkeys came into our lives.   We will never be the same. Thank God.

It's All Little Stuff

My father-in-law doesn't talk much to his siblings.  There has been lots of conflict and strife over the years and it resulted in a few broken relationships. Out of six siblings, one needs a flow chart, graphs, and laser pointer to know who is talking to who.

(Sidenote: One of the brothers slept with and married the others wife, so we don't see a reconciliation there anytime soon.  Although they're still married so it least it was love and not lust)

Through the magic of the facebook, he reunited with one of sisters after 25 years.  Twenty five YEARS. Twenty five years they lost.  Anniversaries, grandchildren, deaths, retirements, milestones all missed because of pride and hurt feelings.

As you often hear, they really had no idea what precipitated the break.  They each kind of know the timing (their mother suffered a debilitating stroke) but each confessed that it was all unclear now.

And more importantly: that it just wasn't important anymore.

Again, we hear it all the time: once you get older, it just doesn't matter anymore.  The stuff you thought was huge just really isn't. It's all little stuff.

Do You Hear What I Hear?

I think the television has been on constantly every day for months now.  It has been my best friend, keeping me company and holding my attention for days and nights on end. 

Today though I have kept the house quiet, not even turned it on.  I've been tempted but I've kept it off, like some strange little psych experiment.  I haven't even turned on the radio.

The quiet is soothing once you get used to it.  Although right now my father-in-law is mowing so there's not so much quiet.  It's warm out so even the dog has given up her ever-diligent barking at things known and unknown.

Usually I don't enjoy the quiet.  The ADD doesn't like it and begs for something, someone, anything to entertain it.  For some reason today, right now, it's all good.

It's not like I'm working on some huge project or obsessed with something that needs concentraton.  I've done little tasks off and on and read a book. That's all.

But beyond the mower, I hear the birds, the windchimes, and the creek.  Occasionally I'll hear one of the dogs moving around or a door close. (I jinxed it. As I write Missy Jo is on yellow-level high alert for something she thinks needs attention)

A person forgets how quiet it can be in the country.  No car horns, no people, no sirens or traffic.  Just the wind, birds, and occasional dog bark. In this electronic age, I think we all forget how good the quiet can be, regardless of where you live.

Maybe I can get used to this.

Take a few minutes.  Just be quiet for a few minutes.  Do you hear that?

Interior Design by Accident

This weekend I spent putting the house "right".  Right being defined as "The way it was before April 9th."

A little to my surprise, many things did not go back. 

Out of five rugs, only one went back and even then it was a new one. 

The dining table did not get moved back to it's original space because we like the extra room. 

To Kevin's chagrin, two decorative pillows returned to the bed.  One did not simply because I repurposed it. 

The laundry hamper returned to the bathroom from it's temporary location next to the washer.  This I am ambivalent about and I think bears more discussion.  It usually lives near the shower in our bathroom.  Because I couldn't lift anything (technically still not supposed to) Kevin moved it next to the washer then carried our clothes out to it.

The carrying dirty clothes out individually part is inconvenient yet I do enjoy having the hamper right there where I need it. However, I don't like that it's the first thing you see as you walk in our back door.  Then I thought that perhaps I would just buy another hamper but that's just silly and unnecessary.  We'll just have to see how it goes.  In the real world, this is not a problem and I should probably worry about something else.

I switched where some bins were in our pantry because I couldn't stretch to reach and now I wonder why I put them up there in the first place.  Actually, they are the cookie and chip bins so I believe it was an "out of sight so I won't eat them" tactic. There's this thing called discipline that I am going to practice because they're also staying in the new location.

With the refrigerator, we put the milk, creamer, and juice on a lower shelf for when I was wheeling about. This bothered the both of us.  Milk belongs on the top shelf where God intended. (:-D  Now everything is back in it's rightful place.

The ramp is gone from the stairs outside and the chair that Kevin put on the stair landing is as well.  It was too difficult to get out on the big deck so he put a chair out on the stairs so I could still sit outside in the sun.  He, nor the dog, appreciated having an already small space being occupied by a chair.  

It's funny to me that these changes that we made on an emergency basis have turned out to be good things in the long run.  It's as if this fall has forced me to feng shui the house. 


 

Can Do

My first physical therapy appointment was yesterday. (I swear this isn't about the injury...even I am sick of talking about it)

It went well.  I have exceeded expectations and was advised to slow down a little bit.  Clearly, he doesn't know me.  To quote Kevin: "I don't have time for this sh*t"

The one thing that struck me with him and upon further thought, many of  the people I've spoken with regarding the injury is that most everything is phrased in the Can't category instead of the Can category.

Don't bear weight
Don't walk
Don't move beyond what's necessary
Don't drive

yadda yadda yadda

The physical therapist kept questioning me with "Did they tell you that you can do this?"  All I kept thinking was "They didn't tell me that I couldn't."

I realized that as I'm listening to the instructions this morning that all I am thinking about it what I CAN DO.  Oh, don't walk but I can wheel, hop, whatever.  Don't drive but I can RIDE?  I'm a toddler. 

Perhaps it's because they sense that I am toddler that they tell me what not to do.
The surgeon actually laughed at me when I said I would be up and moving by July. (So far, it's a tie)

It's all about phrasing.  Like what is taught in early childhood education, tell them what they Can do, not what they can't.  Tell me what I can do, not what I can't.  Or actually, I will just hear the Can on my own.

But that's just me, just my perception of the world.  Not everyone is wired like I am.  What about the people that only respond to the negative?  There are certain people that would hear the above instructions and follow them to the letter, thus lay in bed for the entire duration.

I believe everything should be phrased in the Can category. Tell us what we can do.

Daytime TV Thinks You Suck

As we're all very well aware, I've been watching television.  A lot of television.

The overwhelming lesson I've learned is that daytime television thinks you suck.  It's very obvious, it doesn't try to hide it's opinion. It's our frenemy.

You're too heavy
Your hair is dull and the wrong color
You have too much hair.
Your make-up is all wrong
You can sue the pharmaceutical companies for everything that is wrong in your life.
Your clothes aren't good enough
Your closets are a mess
Your kids should be constantly misbehaving
You need to spend less time cooking, but eat better.
You're spending too much time cleaning your house
You are using the wrong toothpaste, drinking the wrong thing.
You are even going poo all wrong.

A person needs a strong ego to watch daytime television.  If you allow it into your brain, you will learn that you most definitely suck.

Mute the commercials.  They're a bunch of liars.

And Now We Sit

One of my incisions is taking it's damn sweet time to heal. It's the gnarliest one that runs from my heel to mid-calf. It's certainly going to scar.

Because I can't turn my ankle yet, I am forced to use modern technology to track the healing process.  I use the camera on my phone to take a picture.

It has been a really good solution as I can look back when I'm not clear about it looked yesterday.

So that's fun. And no I'm not posting them, it grosses me out a little.

Imagine if I lost my phone right now. The finder would have questions for sure!

I'm back in the recliner without the boot and the sock off as much as possible. My thrice daily "spa" treatments are on hold until the incision heals.

Oh and my first physical therapy is on Wednesday.  All kinds of fun happening over here.

I am trying not to be disappointed but I am. I had actually and literally taken huge steps forward just to land on my ass again.

It could be worse, I know. I just assumed that after eight weeks the incisions would not be a problem.

Shiny side... I have nearly 30 episodes of Ghost Whisperer on the DVR, Swistle has me addicted to peanut butter Clif bars, and I have so many books to read that I felt guilty buying another the other day.

There is always a shiny side.

Catching Up on My Reading

My DRIOD has been a lifeline over the past two months.  (it seems odd now that it's been two months when two months ago I was FREAKING OUT about being home for two months.  Now I have 20 days to go, I think)

Wait, what?

Oh, my phone.

I love my phone.  I was able to keep up with everyone while lying in the hospital, in my own bed, and in the recliner.  Or lately in the tub where I've been having a two times daily spa treatment for my foot. (not as fun as it sounds)

But email tends to pile up when viewed on a small screen.  I finally sat down with the laptop today and began furrowing my way through all the emails.

I think I responded to everyone that emailed. It might have been in Pain Meds-ese but responded all the same.

I had a whole whack of pictures from the day before the accident (Mother's Day?) that I hadn't done anything with.

A LOT of "Oh, I'll go back and read that later when I'm not high."  Yeah, I so hit the delete button on those.

To my chagrin, there were new blog commenters that I haven't followed through with. Gah I hate that.  My deal is that if you comment, I go check out your profile/bloggity and comment if I can muster a comment that doesn't fill me with anxiety.  So, I have some work to do there.  Tomorrow maybe.

I'm also catching up on everyone's blogs.  I only have the lovely Swistle and Dooce on my phone so I've got some serious reading to do. CK wrote!! Melina went to ALASKA? Daydream Believer is in Germany!   You guys went and Lived your LIFE while mine stood (not really) still?!  (:-D

And Twitter...OMG Twitter.  I tried really hard to not post while high and I think I managed that. (anyone?)  Although today I tweeted that wheelchairs were fun, albeit because I know I can walk.  While not on pain meds anymore, probably not my wisest decision.

@Duwaxloolu...the pictures of the baby and the dog helped my days pass as well. thanks!
 
If you're not following @HonestToddler on Twitter, you're missing out.  Especially if you're a mom.

So I'm back and venturing out into the interwebs. What else did I miss? 
I will be writing regularly again, starting Monday.  My brain is getting full and I need to shake it out.

In Terms of Falling

My brother-in-law is a complicated man. We make each other nuts 75% of the time but after more than twenty years we are definitely siblings.

The wonderful thing about him is he is at his best when we are at our worst. He has a similar talent like Kevin for making me laugh at the worst moments.

Last week I couldn't manage going up the outside stairs. It was frustrating and a little embarrassing.  The night of my doctor appointment Kevin asked his brother to help me up the stairs.

First some details:
I am five foot three. Kevin is six feet tall.  His brother is two inches taller. I put an arm around each of them and I hopped up each stair while they boosted me.

This went well until physics kicked in. We reached the landing but the boys kept going toward the door.  The problem being that my feet couldn't reach the ground anymore.  I started laughing and couldn't say "Stop!" Finally as I started to slide off my brother they realized what happened and stopped.  "Man up." he says, right before stopping.

Once in the house the brother was sharing his experience with a broken ankle, what to think about,  how to do stuff. Brotherly advice.
He is a recovering alcoholic, sober twenty years. We were talking about what to do if I began to fall.  "Just remember: if you fall: don't spill the drink." It was the perfect image for me (child of alcoholics) to illustrate how to fling my body if I fall. I think of it if I stumble and laugh.

What would we do without brothers?

Losing Time

One thing that I'm not enjoying about having all this time on my hands is that I have all this time on my hands.  I actually lose time.  There is always this afternoon or tomorrow to do something.

Like this space, which has been sorely neglected.  I always think that I'm going to just sit down "next" to bust out a few posts.

I do keep myself on some sort of a schedule.  I get up about the same time and I make sure that I do chores and eat.  I guess I just need to schedule a little more specifically.  I do try to set one goal a day.  Today's was bake a chocolate cake, for instance.

Isn't that always the way though?  Like on vacations, people plan on getting all the stuff that you put off until "later" finished. But then time gets filled with other things and the later stuff is still there.

 I am on perpetual vacation right now.  I'm not hating it.  I'm not bored.  I'm just distracted by the inertia of it all.  I'm choosing to think it's a good thing and happening for a reason.

I'm Walking Here!

My De Niro impression sucks so play along with me, mkay?

Today was the day, poppets

Today, Way, way, WAY ahead of schedule I walked with a cane. A lot. Outside and stuff, even.

I found that I was wrestling with the walker yesterday. I was either scooching along like post-hospitalization or stumbling away from it and needing to reach back for it.

I showed Kevin last night that I could go all "Look! No Hands!!" He was cautious but excited.

This morning he brought me his mother's cane (she doesn't use it. We're not *that* horrible) A few steps later and I'm all Check Me Out.

In two weeks I start physical therapy and I hope this new skill bode well for that unpleasantness.

The boys built a ramp today too. I'm free to come & go now. Although I promised Kevin I wouldn't do it alone until I was more steady.  A promise I've already broken. Hey, I had to surprise him with his birthday gift!

So do a little happy dance with me, won't you?  Cha cha cha!!!

Bionics

Here for your viewing displeasure is my latest portrait.

I know, right!?!

Today was a challenging day as I adjusted to the boot and had to learn how to walk again. With only 25% of my weight.

So short & sweet post tonight.

Close But No Quite

The appointment went well today. I'm exhausted and will post pictures and details tomorrow.

I'm not walking yet but I'm literally, actually, taking baby steps.

Once again, Kevin made me laugh right out loud in an uncomfortable moment. That is the highlight of my day.

The doctor was testing my foot for range of motion, feeling, and blood flow. He asked me if I was having any pain and I said "No, and I'm not flirting, but it feels good."

In his best Ross Geller voice Kevin exclaims "I'm sitting Right Here! Oh my God!"

We'll talk tomorrow poppets. I am worn out tonight. Your thoughts etc. worked and I'm grateful.

Sixteen Hours

In sixteen hours I will learn if I will walk again. That sounds so melodramatic but it's true. They could very well say "Not yet." And I will be crushed and frustrated.

I'm choosing to believe that I Will get to walk tomorrow though. I have to. Mind & body connection is important and I think it helps. I have been willing the bones to mesh, the body not to reject the bionic parts, and the nerves & muscles to rejuvenate. I think it's working.

But I'm nervous.

What do I always say? Hope for the best, plan for the worst.

Worst case scenario: more days in the recliner and wheelchair. It could be worse.

Best case scenario: Showers. Driving. Normalcy.

Either way, I'll be fine.

Tick tock

Two Days

Well, a day and a half actually.

Please, Universe That Pushed Me Down, let me stand up again on Monday.

He Who Shan't Be Named

Channing Tatum's name is not to be said in our house. Mostly because I *might* have mentioned that he is OMFG attractive once.

Tonight Kevin brought home the newest edition of Entertainment Weekly. He tossed it on the counter and announced that he was going to just put it in the trash.

He didn't but he did do this:

FOUR

Only four days left until I'm walking again.

Send a thought, say a prayer, light a candle or whatever you feel right that my wish comes true.

I'm ready.

In Five Days I Want To...

I have five days of confinement...or captivity, as I've been calling it...left.  Next Monday afternoon I will hopefully have a walking cast.

I'm equal parts nervous and excited.  I feel like I'm healing and everyone seems to think so but there's always that little doubt in the back of your head.  I try to shout it down most days. 

Instead I focus on what I want to do first.  What I want to do is a bit ridiculous: I want to clean my house.  It has been such a challenge to live with "good enough" for me.  I've learned to vacuum & mop from the wheelchair, how to balance on one foot while wiping countertops or doing laundry.  It's always "good enough" and that makes me crazy.

And yes, I recognize that I'm not supposed to be doing any of the above but if you know me in reals, you know that simply sitting around is not going to happen.

I want to be able to just stand up and go to the bathroom without transferring to a wheelchair or walker and it taking ten minutes. (used to be fifteen)  I want to be able to stand in my pantry and closet and reach whatever I need.

I want to shower.  Oh, how I want to shower.

I want to drive to the coffee stand and see my friends.  I know they're going to make me cry and that's okay.

See? It's the simple things I want to do. 

The one thing I don't mind not doing is Grocery Shopping.  I am relieved to have Kevin do this.  Although he does it at 7:00 am and calls me multiple times, I am still happy to have him do it.  I think I have a few more weeks before I can walk that much anyway so that's a relief.

So countdown with me, won't you poppets?  Five days.  Five days will be one more step (pun intended) to having my normal life back.

And a shower.

Tough As Nails

Over the last 36 days (yes, I'm counting. shut up.) Kevin and I have had many bonding moments.  Some of them absolutely horrible and some so heartbreakingly lovely that I almost can't deal.  I won't share either of those because some things belong only between a husband and wife.

That being said, we have been the Mutual Admiration Society up in here.  This whole adventure has made us each appreciate the other more and more.  It's not just the big moments but the little everyday things that get noticed in situations like these.

For this, I am appreciative of this challenging time.  This horrible thing has made us slow down and recognize each other and where twenty years together has brought us.

The other night Kevin was telling me how his coworkers had asked about me and how they've been teasing him about having to be a Mr Mom.  Kevin said that he told them that it has been a change but really, not that bad.  "Because my wife is tough as nails.  Tough as nails, I say."

Know that I have an old fashioned husband that doesn't give compliments easily but loves fiercely.  That simple statement reduce me to tears.  Yep, tough as nails unless her beloved says something sweet. 

Heart Shattering

Watch "Linda Perry - Letter To God" on YouTube

Photo of the Day

Girl Little has her very first kitty:

The One Where I Rant

Weight loss ads never don't annoy me. The current top two are Valerie Bertinelli equating her weight loss to curing her depression and codependency. Then, this is super catty, we all know if Janet Jackson turned sideways she has junk in the trunk. As She Should. But the ad has her in that ridiculous back & white outfit and stance.

I am still feeling duped and annoyed about the swiffer wet jet. Although the ads imply that you don't need a broom prior to using it and Not So Much.

Pain meds, while a blessing, have been giving me early morning earworms. Not annoying songs like usual but songs like "Elves" from the Bare Naked Ladies Christmas album and an early Donna Summers song.

Whew. Now I feel better.

And otherwise, everything else is fine. (:-D

Everything is Different

Bff K has mentioned how strange it must be to have my life come full stop. It is indeed strange.

Nothing is the same. Not one single thing.

I have the same husband but he's the caretaker now.

I sleep in the same bed but only in a carefully arranged fashion with a row of meds on the bedstand and a walker nearby.

I'm unemployed, though I check in daily. I can't even write (well) right now.

I'm literally housebound. I can't drive...I can't even get *into* my truck. There are stairs outside that I can manage to go down but not UP.

I did figure out how to bathe myself.  I have a senior citizen bathroom with a tub bench and handheld shower wand.

I also had to re-pottytrain myself. Think about it: no weight bearing whatsoever on one foot. *fun*

HOWEVER

They found an antibiotic that I don't react to.

I don't have to cook.

I have enough track pants to wear, which is good because it will be months before I see jeans or wear both shoes.

My interior design ethic has changed to a minimalist style. No throw rugs or extra stuff that can be knocked over or tripped upon.

I've gotten the wished upon vacation time. So we fall back onto the adage of Be Careful What You Wish For.

I've had great care packages, cards, emails, posts, calls and visits.

I have my Droid that enables me to keep in contact with the world, including writing this while laying in bed.

Anytime that I get my woe-is-me on, I remind myself that our friend J, who is my age, is in a wheelchair since he was nineteen. He never complains and is always in a good mood.

So I tell myself "Suck it up, Buttercup. J does this every day."

Dispatch from the Recliner

It's day 16 of captivity.  Not that I'm counting, at all.

Today is my last day of bedrest.  I'm excited for this milestone even though it actually means eff-all because I still can't put weight on my foot or leave the house. It's the passage of time that I'm looking toward.  Now only three weeks until I hopefully get a boot then life returns to normal-ish.

I'm not quite weaned off the pain meds but I'm getting closer every day.  I will switch over to Tylenol soon.  That's my next milestone.  Mastering the Mad Max Scooter will be after that. 

Mad Max Scooter

I'm tired of television but that's okay.  I discovered Long Island Medium and for that, I am grateful for my broken leg.  I so want to be her friend.  I just enjoy her personality.

Before I fell we discovered Rob Dyrdek's Fantasy Factory on MTV.  He makes me laugh like no other.  I tweeted about the dodge ball episode that I was going to keep it forever for the Total Crap Day Cure.  Last week I was having a little pity party and I played that episode,  it totally worked.

I am missing out on my mother-in-law's birthday party.  This bums me out a little with the exception of she wants to go to the casino and eat crab.  This would make me crazy if I was a whole person, let alone a broken one.  Once again, I am glad for the brokenness.

I check in with work every day and that breaks some of the monotony.  It's a little weird to work remotely but I enjoy it mostly.  I think I'm going to miss that a lot when I do return to work.

Yesterday one of my coworkers asked about the get well flowers that they sent.  It was kind of a strange question as she followed it up with "Are they still alive?"  My boss was relaying the questions and even she was all "WTH?"

It turns out she wanted me to take a picture of my cast and the flowers.   I know, right?  What an odd request. I said "Yeah, I don't see that happening" and my boss more diplomatically said "She can't do that."

Now they're wondering when they can visit and that gives me such anxiety.  It feels overwhelming. 

Speaking of overwhelming, all the kids just came over and signed my cast.  Boy Little & Girl Little wrote their names, Boy Little #2 drew a house, Big #2 drew a sword and Big #1 drew flames. The Nephew drew the Batman logo.

Little Happys

So I have my big girl cast now. I chose purple and I really like it. I decided that I was going to make the best of this in little ways. Like choosing a purple cast.

I wanted a red scooter but I wasn't there to pick it up so it's blue. It's also a little bad ass. Imagine a scooter you kneel on then give it four wheels then make it into a ten-speed bike. I will take a picture later when I'm not laying flat on my back.

My stitches are out and the incisions are healing. I couldn't bear to look at it though. I will wait until it's healed. But I did discover I broke four bones, not three. *high five* My X-ray looks like they left random screws in my leg.

They found an antibiotic that I don't react to and that makes me absurdly happy.

Kevin has learned how to grocery shop. I'm proud to say that he got hit on in the bread aisle. He phoned me because he wasn't sure what happened.  "She was dressed up for grocery shopping. She was wearing high heels."

I caved and bought a swifter wet jet. I can use it from the comfort if my wheelchair pretty easily.  Strange that I've been mulling over getting one for months and now I need one.

I'm tired of television already. I've found myself sitting in silence, which would never happen before. But I'm not quite able to concentrate on a book yet. I have a big stack of books that I'm so looking forward to reading. I think in a few more days I will be weaning from the pain meds then I'll get my read on.

My father-in-law has been cooking for us, bless his heart. He's so happy to be needed. He brings me mail every day too. The sweetness is overwhelming.

That's pretty much everything. As awful as it is, there are a lot of little things to find happiness in.

What Have We Learned...?

Well, to state the obvious: breaking bones suck.  I've never done it before and when I did, woooboy, I did it big.  Two broken bones, a crack, and a dislocation.  Yea me.

Bellingham Fire Dept does not hire ugly guys.  Also, they're very funny.

Dansko's are wonderful shoes. However, the clog style is not for me.

You cannot give your expensive shoes to lovely xray techs.  It's against the rules.

Epidurals are wonderful...right until they wear off with no warning.

I still can't decide if a funny anesthesiologist is a good or bad thing.

I can't take the ortho surgeon's name seriously: Dr. Holstein

Nurses are gifts from God.

Kevin makes me laugh in the most horrible moments and I love him more for it. (picture getting your ankle relocated & casted)

Do whatever the nurses say and your life goes much easier.  This seems like a no-brainer but it's not.

Ask questions.  They like it when you show an interest in making things go smoother.

Don't try to help.  Helping actually hinders.  Hi, my name is Surely and I am a Helper.

Pain meds make me go in slow motion, which I suspect is actually just regular motion.

I am a Tyrannosaurus Rex. I have not great upper body strength so I'm using a wheelchair instead of a walker.

Take your meds. Don't try to be a hero.

I am a deadline oriented person.  "How many minutes until the meds kick in?"  "How much longer will this anesthetic last?"  "When do I get a big girl cast?"  Timelines comfort me.

Be careful what you wish for. I wished for life to slow down and the universe pushed me down the stairs.

My friends and coworkers are swell. They, too, fall into the category of Kevin of making me laugh in awful moments.  And filling my belly with yummy snackety goodness.

I'm sure there are more things we have learned but the pain meds are beginning to make me a little floopy so back to the recliner & remote for me.

I hope you are having a wonderful week, poppets.  Don't worry about me.  I'm fine.  I'm a Weeble, you can't knock me down.  Well, that's not true now, is it?

See? I told you: pain meds.

Please Pardon the Interruption

or any nonsensical stuff that might appear here over the next little while.

I managed to miss the last step on the stairs at work and broke my ankle.  Broke it ugly, eight screws and two plates ugly.  Bedrest for eight days ugly.

This kind of ugly:

I broke it on Monday morning, had surgery on Tuesday morning, came home Wednesday afternoon and now I'm chillin here at home.  Chillin being defined as stuck in bed or in the recliner with my new friends painkillers and remote.

Kevin is trying to just roll with this but he's overwhelmed.  He's just so used to me being around getting stuff done, that having the exact opposite is a little disconcerting.  I have  to concentrate just to eat.  Did I mention painkillers?  They make me itch and loopy.  I am just as frustrated that  I can't just get up and do something as simple as put the dishes away.

Oh, and I can't shower.  Yeah.  That's hot.  I did shower last night (against the rules) but it was such a process that it left me exhausted and frustrated.  I guess I'd rather be grimy. (such a lie)

I will hopefully get a big girl cast on next Friday afternoon then I can get around a little more and shower.  I still won't be able to walk  for at least six weeks from next Friday.

Right now I have a walker which isn't as awful as I'd imagined.  I don't think I could have done this with crutches.

I am getting one of those strange little scooters that you kneel on with the broken leg and push with the good leg.  

But I think if I get one of those, I need a helmet and elbow pads.  I can't even maneuver stairs with two good feet. 

Was That Only Fifteen Minutes?

I thought of Swistle just now when the Littles were over for one of their visits.

Being almost six-year-old triplets, there is always at least one talking.  Usually the boys take turns then Girl Little is always providing commentary.

We were talking about Easter Eggs & how does the Easter Bunny does his job and how he must have family to help and how we think Lucky ate an Easter egg last year and he also must have eaten all the Leprechauns because they didn't find any this year and What color does black and purple make and what time does Uncle Kevin get home and when are we going to do candymovienight and how many days until our birthday and when do we go back to school and how long is summer and what's for dinner and I would just make peanut butter & jelly for dinner, no I would make CEREAL and I would just eat Candy!  Who is that in the picture? he looks like Harry Potter, they are the SAME AS US!?! and will they come to our birthday? Our brother is at Canons and they're playing basketball but Daddys doing laundry and when are we going to color Easter eggs...........

In fifteen minutes.

Then they were gone.  And I need a nap.

Gosh, I love them so.

And the Father Is...

As I mentioned I have been working on our family tree.  And it's been complicated.

You don't even know.

Complicated.

I finally texted my little brother and asked him a few questions.  He asked the most questions when we were younger and he had actual conversations with my father before he died.

This was his answer:

"Good question.  I don't remember any of the details. It wasn't something we talked about.  I tried asking those questions when I was in grade school, the response was "none of my business" lol"

Sigh................

I swear I am going to eventually find a connection to the Manson family.

Today's mystery is my paternal grandmother.(because I have to break this sh*t down to avoid losing my ever-loving mind)  She died when I was five.  I can't find proof of her last marriage to my Grandpa Earl.  I find a marriage certificate with another man's name on it. 

My brother supposes that they chose to change names somewhere along the way. "Back then" he says people did that and it was easier. You just adopted a name and it "eventually" came legal.

Then he says "Uncle Jim had legal problems from Grandma not being honest with names."

Wha?????????????????

He was a product of her first husband and is my dad's half-brother.  While he changed his name legally, it means my cousins aren't quite as cousin-y as we thought. (to this I am SO relieved. You don't even KNOW.)

Then he suggested that I look into our mom's side of the family and I answered "Well, her first married names was Rogers".  *BAM*

Then he made a Mr Rogers joke.

I told him we were inches from being a Maury Povich episode.

Surely You Jest

I mentioned a few weeks ago that I wanted to change my pseudonym from Firegirl to something else.  I've thought about it and talked to BFF K who helped me decide on a new one.

My mother had something like a hundred siblings.  Again: my grandparents were married THREE TIMES EACH.

She had one sister who died from Leukemia shortly after I was born.  My mom has said that I am most like her. Her name was Shirley.

Shirley is such an old lady name though.

So we came up with an alternate spelling of "Surely", as in the title of this post.

In honor of my aunt whom I never met but who seems to walk through this life with me, Surely shall be the new pseudonym.

I like it very much. This one will I will most likely keep forever.  I hope you enjoy it.

(I will try to change it on twitter and pinterest as well so don't freak out if I disappear)

Third Time Is A Charm

I have been working on the family tree for my family.  It has been no easy feat, for sure.

Three out of Four GRANDPARENTS have been married THREE TIMES.

Three.

Times.

Three.

Grandparents.

Thank God Washington State has their records online or this would be impossible to track.  As it turns out, one of my grandmothers may have been married four times as I can't find record of her most recent marriage so I'm unsure if her husband went by a different name or what.

What else...

Both Kevin & my mothers have April birthdays.
Both mothers have the same names.

Kevin's mother nearly married a man with a name I'll say is "Squick"
My maternal grandmothers maiden name is "Squick"

My paternal grandmothers maiden name is the same as my Married name.

My married name (although common) is cited on a marriage license as witnesses. It *might* be a great uncle & aunt of Kevins.

There are lots of December and May weddings and birthdays, just like Kevin & I.

Oh, my great-grandfather was a racecar driver.  It was early NASCAR style racing but still. Kevin is an NHRA racer

It has been fun finding these little threads of similarity as I go.  I would definitely recommend it to anyone to research.  

Oh by the way, I've only been married twice.  (:-D

Therapy via a Recipe

I am sharing this from BFF C who made me laugh out loud with this: 

"I Don't Care About My Fat Ass Today" Mint Brownies

 Ingredients:

1 box of brownie mix (your choice--I used the one that was on sale at Haggen)

1 box of Girl Scout thin mint cookies

Directions:

Prepare brownies per the directions on the box.  

Take the cookies out of the package and put into a gallon size Ziplock bag.  Take a meat mallet and beat the crap out of the cookies until they are crumbled.  While you are doing this think of someone who pissed you off today.  I thought of that hippy Trader Joe's cashier who I wanted to drop kick to Blaine.  Congratulate yourself on not punching the person who made you mad.

Add cookies into brownie mix.  Stir to combine.  Cook according to package instructions but add 5 minutes to the cooking time.  

Yum, yum (and way better than going to jail...I'm sure).