Shane & Shana

My daughter, Willow, and son-in-law, Shane, just returned from a week in New York. What is it about NYC that I'm virtually the only person I know who hasn't taken a trip there this year? Guess I'm the gal who always misses the boat. Oh well, remember the Titantic?

Anyway, I have evidence now that Shane & Willow are spending entirely too much time together. Looky here!
Reminds you of how they say people start looking like their dogs after awhile, doesn't it?

Encinitas Chills

AFTON & MADISON IN SUNNY SAN DIEGO


The weather turned this week, and rear ended my plans to go to San Diego---  FAIR!
But the Batmobile (Wayne) left without me Thursday after I had listened to Afton tell me about the day they huddled in the house shivering with the cold (the power was knocked out). She totally confirmed my yellow spine status when she told me that she and Maddy and the dogs had then spent Wednesday night "sleeping" in the car until the power company came at 3 am and checked out a suspected gas leak. This was followed the next morning by a timely ant invasion (the one thing I DON'T miss!)

Oh, not that I can't take a deep chill once in a while (I refused to put on a coat all winter, record snowfall and all, when we moved to Flagstaff, being so in love with the snow after 20 years in Southern California); it's just that my wake up time is now closer to 1 am. So I'm pressed to think how getting up on crutches in the wee hours in a car( without waking those neurotic LOUD chihuahuas) to go find a spot in the yard to pee would be a viable enterprise in LaCosta, should the bad luck scenarios there continue this week. So to spare my CA relations any untoward drama, I'm waiting till the thaw; January has always been my favorite month in San Diego anyway. (And the ants are hereby on official notice to clear out.)

Dolphin Stampede

You gotta love this! Thanks Kathy, for the inspiration from the skies and seas! I just want to watch this over and over, and come home to MY ocean....





Mattie, don't you just LOVE this??

Happy 25th Birthday Torrey!

My baby girl is 25 today! How on earth did she ever get older than I am? Fast living, I guess. She can pack a lot in when she isn't sleeping evidently.

Here's 25 revelations about this one in a trillion girl/woman:

 1) Deep thinker---pulled to ponder philosophy & the meaning of life
 2) Open mind---to new ideas if they build on good foundations
 3) Integrity---tenaciously stands up for/lives her beliefs whenever, wherever
 4) Family centered---in the midst of many, she doesn't get lost--relates to each one
 5) Deeply caring---doesn't know the meaning of superficial, it's all or nothing

 6) Baby nut---a special affinity/"soulmates" with the littlest ones (sheer DNA, sweetie)
 7) Sense of humor---not hysterical joke teller, but outlook on what's funny, ironic
 8) Loyalty---David's Jonathan incarnate(female version), if she loves you
 9) Thoughtfulness---manifests those little things that make a difference
10) Wise---applies knowledge & discipline in life choices, even if difficult
11) Frugal---what's a better word when you grow up in a poor family & have to be?
12) Killer smile---wide as the freeway, dazzling; could be Jane Seymour's daughter?

13) Almond eyes---only brown eyed exotic daughter I own,"just what ethnicity is she??"
14) Competitive---only with her sisters ("No, I'm the favorite Aunt!")
15) Cooperative---especially with her sisters(ketchupdaily.com)
16) Adventurous---going to NEW YORK TODAY! CELEBRATE---DANCE TO THE MUSIC!!!

17) Silly---check out her confessions re: being a dizzy blonde on her blog
18) Reckless driver-Ok, not a +; stop texting & driving and live to 26 (i'm ur mom,k?)

19) Cleans up nice---she gets all the attention anywhere we are, go figure. ahh, beauty
20) Light touch---no ponderous taking herself too seriously, very self effacing-no Center of the Universe attitude
21) Private---shares so much, but is reserved about more, a little old fashioned?
22) Single---I want to find Prince Charming 4 her.... (He needs to cook & clean, love kids---enough to get them breakfast every day, possibly lunch, till Sleeping Beauty awakes; let's see---rich, handsome, kind, and so on.)  Call me, I'll set it up. She's going to KILL me!
23) Gifted Communicator---expresses herself authentically and with a natural flair
24) Loving Daughter---her Dad walks with her still & knows love is forever. She forgives me my faults over & over. What more could you want?
25) Divine Accident---I was done, with half a dozen "blessings", then God sent Torrey, who knew? PRAISE THE LORD!!!! You are breathtakingly beautiful to me, inside and out. Thanks, Angel, for brightening my life.

I love you more,
Mom

Karma...and The Black Hole

I grew up for the most part in one house my Uncle built for us that featured lovely hardwood floors. I have always thought that's as good as it gets, but have only lived in one other home (of nearly 30) with beautiful wood floors since growing up. So you can imagine how jazzed I am about the amazing hardwood floors Jared is installing for me; so much so that I was wondering out loud about "Luck" being involved in this. I confessed to my daughter that I was a tad curious about Karma being in cahoots with Lowe's.

Let me explain. Last spring Jared replaced the carpet in the Casita that Smokey, his docile pit bull, destroyed. It turned out that there was some leftover packs of this new laminate wood floor that he or Jordan promised me for months they'd return. Eventually he told me to sell it for 5 bucks at a garage sale or just toss it in the trash and save him a trip. Time passed, and I became more and more anxious to clean out the garage, so one day I loaded up the trunk of my car and hauled the surplus back to Lowe's myself.

The thing was I had no receipt, and this stymied the customer service girl to no end. She made calls and computer inquiries and finally, after an inordinate amount of time, presented me with a check for over $1200. I almost couldn't speak. It may as well have been $12,000,000! No way the entire floor could have cost that much! So rather than run straight to the bank, I argued. Apparently she had gone through the motions and spent such a long time handling the matter, that the last thing she wanted to do was start over. But we were both determined, aka stubborn, so eventually she had to call the big guns in and a couple managers showed up, irate with me for causing a problem. They buzzed around and fiddled around online and made more phone calls,  Finally 45 minutes later an executive decision was made, and I was handed a refund of around $120, with a large side of disdain.  Customer service, such as it is. 

When I shared this story, and my incidental exasperation, with one of my daughters, I won't share her name but it starts with "W", her reaction was utter disgust... with me!  Stupid old lady--- was her take. I seemed to not rate a lot of points when trying hard to just do the "right" thing.

So I told Jared about this weeks after it happened, and he at first thought it was a dumb move as well; then immediately did an about face and figured it was smart because I was afraid of being caught. Say what?  I hadn't tried to bilk/cheat anyone so that take was very much off my radar. That said, it was becoming obvious to me that not everyone has the same take as I happen to on these kinds of situations.  In fact, this was the third of fourth time I had insisted on being honest with money, and had riled up the troops at more than one store in my few (relatively) short years. Seems like a paradoxical way to be a troublemaker, but so it goes.

Here's the thing though. I thought at some point this just might be an anecdote to throw in at some Family Home Evening lesson down the road to illustrate to the grandkids that honesty is the best policy. Just for the sake of choosing the right, right? Then 6 months later Jared gets this amazing deal on the flooring of my dreams for the main house, and saves about as much money on it--- we're talking pennies on the dollar here, as would have lined my pockets had I taken advantage of Lowe's earlier. I would never even have thought to indulge myself with gorgeous floors in that case anyway, so I end up way happier in the end! Not that I expected any kind of reward in the first place, mind you. But when you think about it, "Karma" can be full of surprises.

EPILOGUE
Shortly afterwards, the Casita was flooded- at the exact moment I fell off ladder and shattered my heel. Not the best day.  The Plumbing company who was re-piping the houses in the area had to pay for the ruined laminate floor. Just last week they accepted Jared's bid and gave me a check for the full amount (originally they had balked and sent out another company to do an estimate, but turns out that was higher). So we saved enough money to cover the new floor and labor for the Casita, so the guys made a little profit, and I'm only out tens of thousands of dollars for the broken foot! Win, win! (Well, especially for the Hospital)


To be sure, a lot of my choices are less than stellar, and sometimes those consequences are apparent in this life, and sometimes they seem to be lurking in the wings of the next life. The seemingly good choices I manage often ironically appear to invite punishment (i.e., said foot). Nevertheless, for one day it kind of feels like living in a fairy tale! Thanks, Karma!

Is that how it works for you?  See if you relate to this little clip:

Coming Soon to a Theater Near You

I have now invaded Adam & Fumiko's home, with virtually no notice, as Jared called on his way home from work last night and said he wanted to rip out the carpet in the Great Room right then. He has today & tomorrow off and is putting in hand scraped hardwood floors for me. He's the man; getting me great deals on one thing or another--- last summer,the hand finished (on site) gorgeous travertine. That was no picnic, but turned out so beautifully. It's getting where I won't want to move anymore! Anyway, I am excited, but definitely needed to be out of the way now with my special needs lifestyle, so I gave 5 minutes notice and sweet Fumiko raced to my rescue. So now I'm rotting over here for a bit.

It's a good thing I have so many kids so I can spread the joy around a little. But who knows when I will wear out my welcome here and there, so I just thought I better warn the world--- with this recovery seeming so dang slow, you never know when out of the blue, I may just end up on your doorstep. BEWARE!!!


J/K

In Self Defense

I have to tell my side of the story quick, before Willow's version appears in her blog. My last night at her house turned out to be eventful, shall we say?

Oh it started out innocently enough, my foot (and I don't say that lightly anymore, believe me.) At dinnertime, all the neighborhood kids had swarmed onto the trampoline, so there was chaos afoot (I can't help myself, forgive me). Hey, I can take it--- I was in the midst of chaos for 30+ years raising my brood, but things moved to the dark side abruptly when 7 year old Carter, from down the block, moseyed on in to the kitchen, and glancing my way, said to Willow, "How old is that woman on the couch?" like he was in the Egyptian mummy section of the Natural History Museum.  

"Well," she returned, "how old do you think?" 

 "A hundred and fifty," he said without equivocation. 

A HUNDRED AND FIFTY! Way to go, Carter. Did I mention I have seen him at least a couple of times a week practically all Fall, and this guesstimate he made from seeing the back of my head on the couch?? My daughter corroborated his insult, naturally. Right then and there, I expected them to start charging the other kids to see the oldest woman in the world. Like I haven't been humiliated enough already.

Okay, so live and let live. Obviously I'm too ancient and feeble to chase them down to allow any other alternative. I suck my thumb, drooling and shaking, and eventually go to sleep, hours later.

Just before 2 am, the phone rings. The phone rings again. The phone rings again and I hear it this time (literally on the couch with me, 3 inches from my good ear) and I listen to the message, something about kids sleepwalking. Weird. The phone rings again, so I answer it and find it's their neighbor, Karen.

 "I got up to go to the bathroom, and heard a kid crying in your backyard. Do the kids sleepwalk?" 

My kids did, so I thought perhaps theirs might, so I told her I'd check. Like any other superhero to the rescue, I fearlessly jumped up on my crutches to save my possibly endangered grandchild! Then, despite being suddenly awakened, I had a flash and remembered the alarm system was on. I turned my Alzheimer's off and capably disarmed the security system. Not having time to gloat with such rare success, I stumbled to the back door. Outside I heard only the clop, clop of my crutches, nothing more.

Satisfied no one was in danger on my watch, I went inside and the Alzheimer's kicked back on with the flick of the light switch and I only remembered I didn't remember how to turn on the alarm again. So I went to Wayne's room, and he was up and clued me in. 

I told him the story and he chimed in with "Last night the police helicopter swept the 4 feet of side yard next to my window. Something must have been up. Then too I saw a cat jump up the granite boulders. Who knows?"

Immediately an email I'd received and forwarded a few days ago jumped into my mind--- all about ways to prevent someone from being attacked/carjacked/raped/killed/whatever. The last tip was about how the new strategy for serial killers/whoever was to play a recording of a crying baby to lure unsuspecting women to open their doors, then WHAMMO! Suddenly the plot thickened. I couldn't wait to explain to Willow and Shane in the morning what had transpired, and thanks to me what had not, during the night.

That was lame. They were aghast--- not at my amazing prowess and undaunted courage in the middle of the night, but at my utter stupidity in disarming the security system and exposing the entire family to the dark powers lurking outside, especially when I myself piped up to remind them of the email alert. 

"Are you kidding?" Willow said in disbelief.

"Listen," I said, "it was clearly implied in that message, that the baby crying would be at the FRONT door. Not to mention people are intimidated by my crutches.... Ace in the hole--- any rapist savvy enough to be in the backyard, would end up running for his life, screaming,"She's A HUNDRED AND FIFTY, for Pete's sake, A HUNDRED AND FIFTY; HELP ME, HELP ME!!!!!!"

I think they think it's time for the OLD girl to get the show on the road. So I moved back home again. No one here better think I'm a day over 45...if they know what's good for them.

Dr. McHottie Rendezvous

9 WEEKS OUT(5 WEEKS POST-OP)

I know this isn't exactly winning an Academy Award and I'm STILL not out of the woods---  driving, not walking--- but I am on my way (maybe in another month) and have so many people to thank for encouragement and support along the way. Whether on a daily basis or a spontaneous moment, each kindness and empathetic word has made a difference. (Willow, especially for being the one to deal with all the blood and pus, and pretend it was no big deal, gracious hospitality, the meals on heels, and forays out into the world.) Thanks everyone for all the patience and goodwill! I think that must be what makes the world go round.

Changes

A couple of years ago, a friend told me he was falling apart. I laughed, and even though we are the same age, insisted that sure wasn't the case for me. In fact, I definitely felt I was getting younger, truth be told, and I was giddy and gloating about it. Things got interesting when I was told over and over I was indeed falling apart as well. Suddenly a T-shirt line commemorating my declining state was theoretically in the works. I was mortally offended and, incensed, roared off into the sunset. Teasing victim? Who knows. But wow--- I've spent time, $, and effort since that New Year's trying to prove a point. Hmmmmmmmmmmm.



With a new New Year's in the wings, I'm finally coming out of denial. So today I changed my philosophy and my blog title to reflect what is more in line with a reality I am coming to accept, if not embrace. I have really learned some amazing things from Neale Donald Walsh's books in the last couple of years, and so feel good about borrowing (above quote--- header, top of page) from him. So falling apart may not be all bad. Just what is. And de facto, at least it means I'm still here! Now, what pieces to pick up??? 

Skating

So we went ice skating last night, well some of us went ice skating watching---puny floating rink at Lake Las Vegas. A far cry from the huge frozen lagoons we grew up skating on during frosty midwestern winters, but the grandkids had fun.

Trouble

"You garment!" she's been accusing all week. Hmmn, what does that mean? Finally I was perceptive enough to ask if she meant "varmit", so now half the time Brooklyn calls me garment varmit, and sometimes just "garment". Personally I think she's a little varmit herself---she sticks her tongue out at me now and I told her I'm going to take it and put it in my ear so I can tell secrets easier from now on! Watch out, little girl!!

Video of this character ended up under "Brooklyn" post on Saturday, Nov.22

Pay It Forward

Shopping on Black Friday? Never been tempted to that level of crazy.  But two of my daughters went out at 4:30 am on Black Friday while I stayed home with the guys, and kids (thanks, awesome son-in-laws!). When they returned 8 or 9 hours later, I guess the stash was incredible. But what rocked my world was how they ambushed Kai, their 10 year old nephew, and showered him with dozens of the coolest clothes ever. Undemonstrative, quiet, reserved oldest grandson put on a fashion show for us that seemed to never quit. Just like the spirit of these generous girls. I was so touched and so went into the bathroom to cry in private, when Willow came in and I feebly tried to express my appreciation. "Mom", she said, "Treesje had such fun doing this for Mattie this summer when she flew her up to Utah. We remember when Aunt Jan did this for us when we were young. And Aunt Dianne."



Whoa, I really lost it then. Before we could even get to Aunt Cindy and how she and Mom have spoiled the grandkids since forever. What DNA!!! I rejoice that the spirit of generosity lives on; I am so grateful for my beautiful and unassuming sisters who have inspired this in my children, and who are still there for me in every way as my life has become increasingly challenging. Mom, you must have done something very right! Genuine, enduring Thanksgiving in my heart.

I had my nose in the air---I thought Black Friday was all about materialism and greed. Not worthy of my attention. HA. Thanks, Treesje & Willow, for showing me, once again, life is all about what you make it. How I love you!

Leaving It All Behind

Ok, now I feel officially retired. Starting Social Security a few months ago didn't really do it, but not cooking the turkey for the first time in 40 years---that's a watershed experience! Not that I need sympathy, mind you, it was a guilty kick to lounge on the couch and cast a glance every once in awhile to the kitchen where Willow, Treesje, and Fumiko toiled the hours away chopping, dicing, stirring, basting. I knew they could do it without me, I just couldn't figure out HOW. But Willow had spent time absorbing succulent recipes from Oprah's show, and the girls just kicked it. Not only did they do it all without me, they showed me up good. Ouch! It was amazing. Absolutely best ever. And then all that cleaning up. Memories! Next year, assuming I'm not still on crutches, I'm going to stay out of the kitchen for the good of all anyway, and let the new stars shine on. Oh, I'll be the clean up committee---once a drudge, always a drudge?---but CHANGE is here!!!! Love it! Thanks lovely ladies!

A Polish Joke---Not

I was remembering the question that Willow and Shane's neighbor asked me the other day when he drove by just at the time they had put me out on the sidewalk for pickup with the trash. I had told him the reason for my plight (uh, I fell off a ladder changing a light bulb). "Well", he laughed, "just how many Polish people does it take to change a light bulb?"  Being neither Polish nor blonde, I may have done my share for having made them look good comparatively at this point.

And I'm sick of it. So I want to change my cover story. What harm can that do? I just need your input to see what you think I should go with.

One suggestion is being bitten by a shark. I kinda like that. My granddaughter Maddy has actually been trying to teach me how to surf the last 2 summers in San Diego. The truth is I have been incessantly pummeled by rocks and have barely been able to stand in the surf, to the point that this tiny little 10 year old granddaughter literally saved my life when I could no longer rally to get up out of the viciously attacking waves.  One would think sharks would be smart enough to avoid such hazardous conditions, but fools rush in where angels fear to tread, so who knows?

Another wannabe scenario, in a virgin attempt at kayaking when visiting with college roommates this summer at Lake Tahoe, after switching from the kayak, I tumbled out of the canoe into the rapids in the Truckee River, which hurled me up and down and all around like a rag doll in an industrial washing machine. Actually this also is a too true story, though the timing is off by a couple months....  repeatedly So many times the sheer force of the river had its way with me, despite all the strength I could muster just to hang on, I truly gave up hope of surviving. Yet a miracle later, I ended up with only massive bruises in obscene places. I could embellish, no?  Surely, a calcaneus fracture is totally in sync with such a brazen wilderness confrontation.

Or if I couldn't have sustained this injury just in the process of being cool, how about by being a hero? I have always wanted to drag someone from out of the mouth of a polar bear (at the zoo, I can't take the cold, and only want to be a hero, not a martyr). Or pull a family from a burning building. That would make this pain bearable, or worth it. But the only thing in that vein I have done in the real world is to stop a rape in progress in the long ago.  And how could I manipulate that--- he karate chopped my heel out of anger? Logistics. Could happen, but I think a broken rib or neck would be more likely.

Anyway, you see my dilemma. Can't keep going with the ladder fall. If you can help me with a better scenario, I would really appreciate it (will consider UFO themes)...or let me know if you would vote for one of the above. Something has to change.

Brooklyn

Just finished talking to my Mom who reminded me that last week when I was staying with my daughter, 3 year old Brooklyn came downstairs and said, "Grandma, there is no soccer games today to go to, so we will stay here and rot with you." Can you ask for more support than that?

A few weeks ago when I made my initial invasion of their house, she informed her mom, "Grandma's coming over to rot at our house."

I just want to say Brookie, thanks for keeping my mouth upturned while the other body parts disintegrate. I'm rotting on my own at home today and I sure miss you!

Thumbsucking

Waiting for the telling moment, when the Dr. would tell me the state of my condition yesterday, was a nerve wracking experience--- believe that's called life. Last week, I had been so underwhelmed when he would come in and examine my foot and just stare and stare and then leave and come back later and repeat. His comments were, "This is exactly what we fear happening in such cases", and he took his own sweet time to decide what to do. I left the office a little anxious. And then some.

So the day before this appointment I was prone to visions, like getting kicked off Dancing With the Stars for having a missing foot, or having leeches or maggots slathered on below the ankle in a last ditch effort to save it--- worst of all, never being able to drive again (7 weeks and I may have forgotten how already!)

So I was in a fine state (tears) when Willow snuck up on me and caught me at my own pity party. I hadn't even gotten into the maggot thing when she pointed her finger at me and said, "Look, Mom, I can be your Dr., or I can be your therapist, but I can't do both, so if you're going to act like this, call another of my sisters, because enough is enough."  

Hmmm. So I figured if she was man enough to keep tackling all the pus and blood and yuk, I could suck it up (not the blood or pus, of course) and only get hysterical if it turns out I really can't ever drive again. And that better not happen, especially now that gas is finally down. I mean, I never really watch Dancing With the Stars anyway. However, I obviously have needed therapy long before this incident, so Afton, Torrey, Treesje, consider yourselves forewarned!

Anyway, Dr. Tingey finally smiled at my foot, ugly and unappealing as it is, and proclaimed that this was exactly the best case scenario for the moment, because even though it is obviously still ripe with infection, it is better than last week, and so hopefully we have turned the corner. A couple of times he emphasized that "You still aren't out of the woods, it could boomerang" but he said I didn't have to see him for TWO WEEKS! Pretty much like being given the key to the city, isn't it?

I am taking this sanitizing in sunlight thing seriously-- 5 hours one day, 3 hours today, in addition to the antibiotics, Innerlight Silver Solution, Pureworks agenda. I don't think I can fail. But it does take time, as my sweet daughter-in-law Fumiko assures me. Thanks everyone for all the patience and support!

Thanks...and then some!

It is always gratifying to see your children doing something thoughtful, some random kindness, even if once in a while, it's for you. And so it was fun today to have Shane come to my sunning place in his backyard; he was hidden behind a vibrant display of color--- a stunning bouquet of magnificent proportion--- edible fruits! It was whimsical, and of course, delicious, but what I loved most about it was that it was explicitly inclusive of Willow & Family, even Wayner, for the TLC they have been rendering me. I love that Torrey and Treesje and Chris recognize the sacrifices that the Jagers have been so willing to make while I have been staying there. And I'm really grateful that they are so grateful for that service. Hopefully, I will be giving them a respite soon if the Dr. thinks I'm doing OK.

Actually,all of the kids have been helpful in so many ways, from rides, running errands, phone calls, what have you. Not to mention the extended family with tangible support on all levels, and dear friends as well. Must take a village to heal a madwoman! Simply could not be more blessed.

Such a deal!

This afternoon I was babysitting 3 year old Brooklyn.  I went outside to soak up some beautiful sun and she followed me and spent the next half hour entertaining me by jumping over a dozen basketballs on the in ground trampoline. It was a transfixing moment, and it took me back to when my kids were little and we had moved to California. My sunning moments then were spent hanging laundry outside (8-12 loads every day except Sunday) in a valiant effort to save the earth from the ozone layer.   I was committed  to single handedly preserving the earth in a more pristine state it for my kids and grandkids. This I did for 11 years, and I could see Brooklyn was now benefiting mightily from my noble sacrifices. There were silver linings at the time though--- ever smell laundry fresh off the line from the out of doors? In Germany, I always hung laundry outside even in the frozen winter.  It still smelled amazing!

Then I recalled how leaving stained clothes outside for a couple of days in the sun almost always magically did away with any stubborn stain, and everything was sanitized. Eureka!! That was it! The key to my stubborn-wound-not-healing dilemma. Let it bake in the sun! But I needed to wait for Willow to come home to unwrap my pathetic foot. 

You'd understand if you ever had gotten on her bad side. She's pretty much my keeper now. Luckily, she was very supportive when she got back. Even Wayne piped in with a blurb about the movie "The Other Side of Heaven" where rats got in and munched the missionary's foot, resulting in a disgusting infection. The natives, I guess, tied his leg up to a tree and left him out in the tropical sun for days or weeks, and it worked---  the infection right out. Totally inspired, we got up to start for the backyard and saw the sun was all gone from the backyard. So Willow suggested taking the couch from the garage (they had tried to sell on the weekend during the neighborhood garage sale) and catching the rays in the front yard.

Seemed pretty white trash to me, but what the heck? We are nothing if not white trash through and through. So I was situated on half the sectional couch next to the trash cans. One neighbor drove by and stopped to chat, but no serious offers. Before bringing me in, they told Karsen to go down the block to see if the little boy who tried to buy the couch for 8 bucks on the weekend would take it now (with me on it) for that price. Guess they're ready to deal. Evidently he wasn't. So looks like I may well be out there again when the garbage men come tomorrow... please pray for sun in the backyard! Thanks!!!

The Pillow Incident

Ok, so the other day while staying at Willow's house to recuperate, I woke up at 4:30 am (not unusual) in a fit of giggles (highly unusual). I AM on drugs! For 3 hours I emailed my sister (I have definitely snapped). 

I was glued to the computer for such an extraordinary amount of time, that I had ignored nature's call until it became a Hallelujah Chorus/Punk Rock Edition that bypassed the auditory system and went straight to the urinary track. Did I mention that first thing in the morning I drink a liter of Greens???  

I desperately tried to respond and grabbed my crutches and fell back to the couch. Too late! I was being overtaken, so I tried to think rationally about Plan B. There was a trash bag on the floor which I kept nearby for when I needed to waterproof my leg in order to shower--- hey, I could improvise a porta potty! 

Then I remembered how often my leg got soaked in the shower anyway and how expensive the flooring in my daughter's home is, so I instinctively grabbed my pillow and stuck it between my legs--- Plan C! I struggled to get up on the crutches while keeping my knees (one bent) together to keep the pillow in place! This was beyond my natural capabilities, far beyond. A few failed attempts and a power beyond myself stepped in and I was up, straddling that polyester like a horse and galloping off to the bathroom. Talk about amazing grace!

Well, at least such was my intention. My daughter had thrown all the dirty clothes down from the 2nd story balcony during the night, so when I got out of the family room, I encountered a staggering laundry obstacle course! The bottom of one of the crutches would hook onto a bra strap, and I would have to pause to figure out how to extricate it without letting my knees out of their locked position so as to lose what little sense of false security I could cling to. And I do mean cling! I would just manage to move ahead and get hung up on boxers. It's true the devil is in the details. Twice, I slipped. In full wannabe gallop mode, I inched my way forward, the giggling now interspersed with tears. It was slow going. And the pressure was on; oh, was the pressure on!

So I eventually made it to the john and was able to save the floor, not so much the pillow---praise be that it was kingsize. I felt guilty and humbled and decided to come clean. I removed my skirt and underwear and started the shower right then and there, keeping my shirt on for the moment. Then I realized I had no towel available and so began crutching over to the laundry room down the hall, hoping all the towels hadn't been in the dirty array before me minutes ago during my journey/quest/ordeal. I grabbed what was easily available--- a handful of white washcloths. Beggars can't be choosers, right? 

No one was home during this crisis and as I was limping back to the shower, it hit me that my son, who lives there, was out and might be returning who knows when. For no apparent reason, I thought what a shock it would be for him to walk in on his Mom in a too natural state. Oops, how to hurry and cover up?  Realizing I needed the trash bag after all to hopefully keep my splinted leg dry in the shower. I faced the dirty laundry ordeal all over again, mercifully without the pillow, and did manage to return to the scene of the crime, said couch. I duct taped the trash bag to my leg, then realized I had no scissors to cut it, so just left the roll of tape there at the front of my knee. Back through the laundry (doesn't this remind you of "Going on a Tiger Hunt"?) .

Made it! In the shower I became overheated and exhausted and immediately realized I hadn't eaten yet; I was beyond dizzy, so to keep from passing out, I ended up on my hands and knees on the bottom of the tub. Well almost, the roll of duct tape protruding from the front of my knee actually prevented that from fully happening, so then I tried to escape by lifting myself up and out, while keeping the one leg "safely" hanging over the side. Unfortunately, the only hold I could find was a slippery soap holder on the far side of the tub. Over and over my hand kept slipping back down. I was trapped. Giggling wildly now, no tears, I tried repeatedly to elevate. Fool's errand. It did happen eventually, though by then I was likely in another dimension. I grabbed the little pile of washcloths to dry off.

I was exhausted and sweating by the time I made it through the dirty laundry jungle yet again and collapsed on the couch. I was still unclothed, except for one washcloth on my hair and the trash bag around my leg. I composed myself and realized I still hadn't found any scissors to release myself from the trash bag and the duct tape loyally holding it to me. With no energy left to get up again, I glanced around and saw my dinner dish from the night before on the floor not far from me. What choice did I have? I grabbed what was available and forked myself (in the bag) to get free. It worked! With sudden clarity, I realized I had literally screwed myself that morning....  I got dressed.

Later, when my family returned, my daughter noticed I was a little spent and asked what had happened while she was gone. "Oh, nothing, hon," I winked. See, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. What did you think?


EPILOGUE: She found the pillow, and to be sure, they have a lovely new couch....

Day 3 of cleaning

First, let me start with saying Willow is taking such great care of me, although she is a busy mother and is gone a lot.  I actually like a break from her because that is when I run around the house dancing and flipping off the walls.  When she is home she makes me sit on the couch and talk to her.  Anyhow, notice in the picture that the bottom is doing great, but the top part of the incision is still struggling.  Did someone (like you) forget to say your prayer for me last night?  If so get on it so I can get back to hiking, skiing, surfing and partying!  

Day 2 of cleaning

The bottom part of the incision is starting to close, but the top is interesting!!!!

Day 1 of cleaning

After the doctor finally took out the stitches he said I would have to keep it uncasted and clean it each day.  My fabulous, brave and don't forget beautiful daughter, Willow has been cleaning it for me.  Here are pictures from the first day.  It appears not to be closing where the incision was made?  

Pray for me!  

Willow Rhymes With Pillow

A stomach of steel, Willow, to take such good care of your Motha!

Letter to Dianne- Why Yes, I'm on Drugs, Why Do You Ask?

Dear Sis, I AM at Willow's still. Bet you're feeling sorry for her.  Actually she's gone all the time,or sleeping.   Although Sunday night they were home, so they moved an old couch into the garage after they parked the car outside, so we could just languish there and look like white trash and spy on the neighbors- is that the right spelling?)

Well maybe it is if you live in an equestrian neigh, neigh, neighborhood; of course, if it were dogs it would be an "arferhood"...or "bowwowerhood"--- then maybe if they were East Coast they'd want to borrow your lawn mower or something.  Of course it it were an HOA and just restricted to Pit Bulls,it would be illegal anyway.   And if it were cats, for pete's sake, it would be a catty neighborhood like Wisteria Lane,and be on TV and all.  (See---everytime, follow the money!!!) Right. 

Anyway,back to the spying.  I mean like it would probably be classified OVERT spying,because there you all are on the couch, on full display EXPOSED,but modestly so because of the kids and all,so it definitely appears to be the riskiest kind of spying.  We did see Jeff (the guy across the street) kind of talking to his truck, so that'll be in the report.  Just don't know who to report to yet.  Is that kind of like report it and they will come???   Or Law of Attraction? 

So for a few days I have been getting these random intense jolts that got my attention and then some.  They would only last a fraction of a second and the target was mostly my foot--- that had been operated on almost a week ago--- which made me a little suspicious (because I once long ago went to a Dentist and told him my tooth hurt whenever I walked and he made me get out of his office--- like I was supposed to go to the foot Dr. when my tooth hurt?  Honestly, give some people a degree...)

But I figured it made sense for that area to have a problem now with the CAT Scan proof of the heel being broken and all, so I felt validated and official.  I didn't feel/look like a fool so much anymore (which works as I'm no longer blonde like I was when I went to the Dentist).  I never mentioned it to anyone at any rate--- till last night; because it almost left quicker than it came, so it was easier to ignore than to get all worked up about it. I have limited energy at this point, after all. 

However the night before last, the pain started to spread up the ankle, and after a few times, it enveloped the whole leg.  Not only that, the frequency of these attacks accelerated on an exponential scale.  So I was lying on the couch last night when I was attacked by myself, and my leg came up off the pillow and nearly kicked me in the head.  I yelped because it was so intense and spontaneous and I didn't have a chance to sing a military hymn or recite the Girl Scout promise or anything.  So I got Willow's attention because she was right there and she made me call the Dr. He's even cute over the phone!   

Anyway, he'd never heard of such a symptom, but was sure it wasn't a red flag.  I see him Thursday afternoon to get the stitches out, and I will be so hurt if he kicks me out of his office and tells me to go see a Dentist.  Wow, that Karma! 

The Doc actually at that point told me I was in a lot less pain than almost anybody else who he has operated on with this same surgery, so I am doing fantastic! (That's basically the same line I got from all the male Drs. attending me during childbirth--- "relax, relax, this is a piece of cake.")   Do males even experience pain at all?  I am going to start calling him at 3 am starting tonight. 

Do you think we could possibly gang up and do that in shifts all over the country?  So it would be like "Ohh, I'm in soooo much pain at this time, it registers all the way to Chicago!" And then the next half hour, someone from Florida would call in "...all the way to Tampa!"   then the next half hour "...to San Jose!"  And wouldn't it be cool to have "Do you know the way to San Jose" playing in the background right then???  Of course, our voices wouldn't sound the same, so alternatively we could use Morse Code.  Or counteralternatively we could just keep the volume way up on the song... Girl power!! 

I AM going to try to go and vote today.  I called yesterday to see if I could somehow be accommodated on crutches and all.  I am new to this handicapped business. Election Headquarters put me on hold for half an hour (I don't know, maybe they assumed I was otherwise challenged as well and just put me on slo/mo). Anyway they came back and said to just try to go to the front of the line and then if no one poked my eyes in (in which case I would be blind and could definitely get some assistance in the special voting booth--- seriously!), voila, I would be in the front of the line.

Do you think that works for Andrea Bocelli?  Or do you suppose he would use fake crutches to get in the front of the line in the first place first?  I mean, what's the good of being blind if you have to WAIT for help in the voting booth?   Of course, maybe he's not a citizen in the first place.   So what do you suppose they would do about this in Italy?  I know, I know---that's why we have Ambassadors. Is Shirley Temple still functioning, so to speak?   I just thought, what if I start kicking myself in the head over and over when I'm in the Voting Booth?  Will they be able to tell if I'm a Democrat or Republican?   That's sooooo not right. (Independent, actually, though not so much for the time being.) Hey, what if I could sing?   Oh well, time for a pain pill.  Yipeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yipeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Love, Your Sis (and there's nothing much you can do about that)

It's All About Perspective

Yesterday I went to the DMV to renew my driver's license. As I waited outside for my daughter-in-law to pick me up (seeing as I can't drive for the duration), I was aware I was in the midst of people bumming cigarettes off each other. I overheard the conversation of two gentleman, the one explaining to the other he couldn't drive to the store to get more cigarettes because he was blind. He went into the history of getting diabetes as a kid, and not having a Dr. who knew how to handle it. They became so serious as they talked about the importance of taking care of yourself, really taking care of these things so you could have good outcomes, while they were SMOKING!!!!!! Wow! Now, if I can just figure out what it is I do to bring on my own issues?

Then my brother-in-law called me last night and was telling me about the project he's arranging with handicapped awareness with the sister cities he's involved with---Chicago and Paris. He was showing a video of handicapped dancers to a phenomenal guy who is a quadriplegic, who wistfully remarked, "Oh, those lucky dudes; they're paraplegics!" Everything's perspective, n'est-ce pas?

"In My Daughter's Eyes"

SO you really can't trust your own parents. Take my Mom. Please. 

Last week she got her KLUTZ degree when she fell off a ladder while changing a light bulb. She was instantly in excruciating pain.  She managed to crawl to her phone and call my brother, Adam, who diagnosed a sprain over the phone.  But Fumiko, her daughter-in-law, heard Mom crying and came over to take her to Quick Care where the Xrays supposedly showed no major break.  

They put a fiberglass splint on it and wrapped it for her, then "readjusted" the foot---taking it several times and ramming it back towards her head so it wouldn't hang down and the Achilles tendon wouldn't stay stretched out.  They explained the Ortho department would call in a week or so to schedule an appointment after the swelling subsided.  

So Mom went home and spent the night doing 8 loads of laundry (the casita had flooded about the time she fell---the houses in her development were in the process of having all the plumbing re-piped).  Things were a mess.  She was spinning around on an office chair throughout the night bleaching whites and folding mounds of clothes, almost enjoying it all, courtesy of all 10 of the allotted Loratabs she downed in 10 hours.  (This is a woman who won't take an aspirin?)

Following an intensive involuntary rehab (sporadic vomiting) in the morning, Adam & Fumiko & Kai & Maya babysat her Saturday afternoon, and we thought she was doing well on into Sunday, as she was positive she didn't need any more help. 

However, when Fumiko came over Monday morning, she hustled Mom back to the same Dr. when she saw huge purple/black puffy skin projecting from the gaps in the splint.  Turns out the technician who had put the fiberglass splint on evidently took an inordinate pride in being incompetent, and so never cushioned the bones before applying the splint directly.  He then tightly folded the sides in so that it eventually pinched the skin as the swelling continued, and he made sure to secure it at a bizarre angle.  Classic. 

The nurses there gasped when they unwrapped the leg and saw blood blisters the size of doorknobs on both sides of the foot, smaller ones on the heel itself.  The Dr. came in and all concurred this was anything but normal.  A new splint was fitted; this time the nurse took pains to see that it would support the foot at a 90 degree angle.  All is well, all is well.

Not.  By the time I saw Mom Wednesday night, the swelling had accelerated by leaps and bounds, exacerbating the pain which had become relentless.  She was still in denial, so I had to basically kidnap her Thursday morning and take her to the ER at UMC.  Evidently everyone else in 3 states had decided to hang out there that very day as well.  Little did I know when I left the house that morning at 9, that I wouldn't get back home till midnight.  Have you ever hung out an entire day and night in a County Hospital Emergency Department?  Who does that? 

I'll tell you who.  Let's see, there's the homeless guy who hasn't had a bath in 18 years and who gallantly held the door open to the restroom for us after he was through not washing his hands, I'm sure.  There are whole tribes of skunks who could not deliver on their best day what this guy effortlessly did in one fell swoop!  Finally, there was something that could totally take Mom's mind off the pain for the moment.  And lo and behold, every time he walked by us in the waiting room, the same effect!  Some distraction. 

We ended up BFF with a woman with a stethoscope draped around her neck--- in stilettos and a strapless top.  She was from Trinidad and Japan and New York and Romania and Sicily and and and.  She was a Resident in Surgery from Valley Hospital, where she didn't have insurance, so she was here to get meds because she had just had 3 seizures.  Two weeks ago she performed a heroic triple bypass on an 85 year old woman--- actually a long forgotten technique from the 60s--- which made her a hero.  Look for an article appearing in medical journals (out in 2 weeks) in every Dr.'s office from here to Kingdom Come.  She's very, very proud of that accomplishment.  And about 87,000 other things.  Wow. 

Then there was the lady who came in limping and crying, eventually removing one of her shoes. So pathetic looking.  Mom pretty much wanted to give her chair to this woman and have me take care of her instead.  We worried when she seemed to evaporate from the waiting room.  A little while later, I was stunned to see this same lady a couple of blocks away, briskly striding towards Wendy's, unimpeded, as I drove by (on an errand of mercy--- more on that later).  Anything for drugs.  I''m learning.

But then perhaps the ER is a place of veritable miracles.  While I was gone, Mom said that a young guy on a gurney came through the doors escorted by 3 or 4 ambulance attendants and that many security guards as well.  "Get up," they told him.  "I can't walk," he would insist.  They demanded that he get in the admitting chair to have his blood pressure, etc. taken.  It was a standoff.  "You were walking 20 minutes ago at the 7-11," they would counter.  Back and forth for 10 minutes.  

Finally, he was put in the chair. Immediately, he slumped down so that his head and shoulders were where his rear end should have been. (Or maybe his rear end had always been where his head was supposed to be).  Either way, the next minute he had slid all the way to the floor.  Suddenly he was air born.  Many hands, many, many hands gripped the back of his T-shirt and he was lifted at a 90 degree angle and taken unceremoniously to a back room. Must have been the place of serious miracles, because when I came back a bit later, my Mom, dazed by the drama, said,  "Look, there's the guy who couldn't walk!  And he's getting a drink at the drinking fountain all by himself!  They obviously perform miracles here.  We're surely in good hands now!" 

As it worked out, we were part of that whole scenario as well.  After patiently waiting nearly 4 hours, I felt dizzy and was afraid I'd faint.  I realized I'd only nibbled a couple of raspberries that morning and knew I couldn't make it much longer without any food, so decided to make a run for some. The neighborhood seemed too seedy to offer any safe options, so I told Mom I was going to run to downtown Vegas to get some food from In-n-Out.  Figuring there were folks who were there at least as long as we were, I felt a surge of compassion and told her I would get several burgers to pass out to buoy up the spirits of everyone else who was suffering. 

I was back in an hour, and what a plan!  It was gratifying to see how eagerly people reached out for burgers and fries.  They were beyond appreciative---it was almost embarrassing.  But this wasn't loaves and fishes, and there simply was not enough to go around.  So I made apologies and left to make another run.  Another dozen hamburgers and the mood of the waiting room was markedly improved--- darn near celestial!  Think Oprah Winfrey Show!  Mom called it the Miracle of Blessed St. Willow (she thought better of that a bit later, however).  Things seemed good.  For awhile.

Every few hours, patients were called back to have their blood pressure retaken.  We assume that was more expeditious for them than coming out from behind their desks to ascertain whether rigor mortis had set in here and there down the aisles.  At one point, the Screener blurted, "Holy S*#@!," when seeing Mom's foot, "I've never seen anything like that!" Unfortunately that didn't seem to move the Triage nurse much. 

People who had waited throughout the day began leaving for greener pastures.  Or just leaving. So the hours wore by with entertainment liberally provided by a changing cast of characters (literally).  Finally after 7 hours we were taken back to be seen by a Doctor.  Which was still more hours waiting.  But then, there SHE was!

As it turned out, Dr. Wakefield had just come on duty at that very time and had an extra moment, so pulled a couple of cases she wasn't really meant to (they were slammed all day, so she was going above and beyond to help).  Magically, her background was Orthopedics, so she immediately assessed the situation and got things in motion. 

Things happen for a reason sometimes, and she was worth the interminable wait.  She got morphine IV drips and cocktails of other painkillers going, had a CAT Scan taken, more Xrays, and verified that it actually wasn't a broken bone--- the whole heel had shattered into little pieces!  Can't beat that for pain, they said.  

She had the guy whose only job is to do casts and splints come on board, hooked us up with the best Orthopedist for follow up in a few days, and called the Dr. at Quick Care to chew her out.  She was really beyond ticked that it had been wrapped so wrong. 

Dr. W repeated many times that this was practically the worst possible of breaks for pain and length of recovery, that it necessitated a much more serious splint, that their staff obviously needed training in applying splints, and that with a break of this severity it was mandatory to immediately send the patient to the actual ER!  So hope it was a lesson for those on the receiving end of her wrath.  It felt so good to be  finally vindicated and supported so professionally.  At last. 

On the other hand, when Dr. W was assessing the patient on the other side of the curtain next to us, it was with some chagrin we heard this: 

Dr.: "I see you have had abdominal pain for several days. We strongly suspect it's your appendix. So I'm sending you right now for a CAT Scan and then we'll prep you for immediate surgery. When did you last have something to eat?" 

Patient: "Well, thanks to those wonderful ladies next door, about a couple of hours ago. They went and got hamburgers for everyone out there waiting.  It was amazing.  We're all so grateful." 

Us: Blush, blush. 

Dr.: "In that case, forget the surgery.  You can't have surgery on a full stomach.  So get the CAT Scan now and come back tomorrow.  BUT make SURE you eat absolutely nothing in the meantime!" 

Pan right, see me melting into the floor.  Mom is desperately looking around, getting ready to show the Dr. her hospital bracelet to prove that we have different last names and she's never seen me before.  We bleat out apologies to the walking dead man next door, who is gracious and as appreciative as ever.  Guess it's true about men and food.  

A little bit later they do his CAT Scan and the Dr. returns and reports to him: 

"Ok, it's official. Your appendix has burst and your abdomen is definitely full of infection.  So Plan B---cross your fingers and keep breathing, if you can.  Stay away from those women, and if you make it through the night, we'll see you tomorrow."

Mom-on-morphine softly moans and rechristens the experience "The Blessed Miracle of St. Willow---Angel of Death."    After 12 hours, we leave for my house.  Yep, the party's just begun.... Woooeeeeee!