Fragile Flowers - Move on, nothing to see here.

My mom suffers, or I guess at this point WE suffer from my mom's Alzheimer's disease. I feel strongly that I am following that same path but will arrive at the destination significantly quicker than my mom arrived. Many mornings I've had the song, 'Play That Funky Music White Boy' in my head, and every morning I've wondered why I've got that damn song in my head. Today, it dawned on me. You've probably gotten there already...yes, it's my alarm. Bloody hell.

Fragile flowers...if you're still with me...try to remember my sense of humor and use yours if you have one. Today I was at Ross and the male cashier complimented me on my Tory Burch (had to actually look at the glasses to see how to spell that) eyeglasses. I had already been chatting with him and his voice was very high and he was on the effeminate side (is it still OK to say that?) I don't know if that makes him GQ, IQ, LG, BT....no freakin' idea, but he was sweet and I liked him. I told him that I had been wearing these new glasses for about a month or so and my husband hadn't noticed...he said, "Oh, he's a man, I'm a special kind of man so I noticed." I laughed, thought that was hysterical. I'm not sure if he's transitioning or what but I'm telling you if men knew what these damn hot flashes were like they would NEVER, EVER, EVER want to be a woman. Two or three times a day, sweat pours off of me. This woman thing is highly overrated. If I transitioned would I still have hot flashes?

Speaking of male/female stuff I was at Barnes and Noble today looking for a magazine. They have a section called Women's Interest, that's where you can find all the Hollywood rags, Elle, Cosmo, and all those other "women's" magazines. The Men's Interest section had GQ, Maxim, Playboy, and then business magazines like Forbes. If the sports magazines had been there I would have been forced to burn the place down.

Paul got home today from Houston. I bought Paul some shoes today. That's how we do things in our marriage. I shop. He hates to shop. I don't hate to shop. He does. I shop. He needed shoes. I bought shoes. Today, I bought shoes for Paul. We've always done it that way. I buy the shoes in this family. Our marriage is based on trust.  He's always trusted me to buy shoes. He bought shoes. Paul bought shoes. He got online and bought shoes, but I buy the shoes. I'm not sure what to do now.  He didn't even tell me he bought them. The shoes that HE bought are at the office which means he had them SHIPPED to the office. He secretly bought shoes. What else is he buying? I was completely bypassed. I'm being phased out because he bought shoes. Now I know what those Mom and Pop stores feel like when Walmart comes to town.

Listening to the radio today and a Sia song was playing. I think she has a unique and beautiful voice but she's like the female Elton John. I don't have one single clue what she's singing. I could google the lyrics of course but where's the fun in that? Rocket Man, burning every shoe I've ever owned....

I had to go to the dentist today and I confessed that for the last several months I've been chewing ice and couldn't seem to kick the habit - this suddenly appeared - this feeling that I needed to chew ice. I also admitted to chewing large amounts of Bubble Yum. They told me to have my iron checked because I might be suffering from PICA. It happens a lot with pregnant women, they crave stuff like dirt, drywall, you know, fun stuff. I'm not pregnant, obviously because I'm not Janet Jackson and I'm clearly going through menopause (have been going through it for about 15 years I think.) I'm sure that I'm not anemic. I just want to chew ice and bubble gum (not at the same time.) They told me not to do it anymore and if I started craving drywall to call my family doctor. I'm not sure how I feel about that. I'm guessing that they will tell me not to chew drywall. Last week my rheumatologist told me that I can't take Tylenol, Aleve, or Advil anymore. These people don't know me well. If you tell me I can't do something then I want to do it, well, except for the drywall thing. I don't want to chew drywall...yet.

Also on the radio today, I switched to one of my preset stations and 'I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas' came on. This made me angry. It's November 2nd and one of my presets has changed to Christmas music. I'm not amused. I dread the month of December.  Every year I tell myself that this December will be different. This December I will not be sad. This December will be filled with joy. Then, on November 2nd, on one of MY preset stations 'I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas' comes on and I feel that horrible pull...December is already trying to grab me.
Damn.

Tonight is a special night because it's game 7 of the World Series. Few sporting events are as cool as a game 7. I'm looking forward to it except for the announcers. Joe Buck...ugh. I wish that I could be a sports announcer, I would be great at it and would provide a different spin on events. Of course, there would have to be a significant time delay because sometimes words come out of my mouth that would not be appropriate on TV. Still...I would provide a lot of entertainment as an announcer. Maybe now that I'm not needed at home anymore I can be an announcer. BEEEEEP.....

Shoes. December. Hippopotamus. Funky Music. Drywall...

Please God. Hear My Prayer.

My mom died a couple of years ago. Well, at least the essence of my mom died then. The mom that was caring, nurturing, funny, and wickedly sarcastic was gone. She would reappear occasionally, but never in full form.

Mom grew up during the depression and as the oldest daughter, she took care of the housework while my grandmother worked, she began this at an early age and worked hard her entire life.
Mom's family was dirt poor. Her dad was an alcoholic and he cheated on my grandmother. Mom was widowed when she was 26  and had two young children to care for at the time. She lost one of those children, my brother when she was 50 and was widowed again when she was 76. She was a tough old bird!

Mom and I were more like friends than mother-daughter. We enjoyed going shopping  and going to lunch together often. She was there when I needed her, oftentimes even before I knew I needed her. I sometimes only needed to hear her voice and I felt better. I needed her badly in July 2015 when Paul was having quadruple bypass surgery. I needed her to hug me and tell me that it was  going to be OK but when I told her about the surgery she wasn't there. She couldn't comprehend what I was telling her. She would have reacted similarly if I told her that Paul was getting a hair cut.

I needed her when my mother-in-law was diagnosed with terminal cancer. I needed her to hug me, even though I knew this one wasn't going to be OK. When Ruby died, I told my mom, showed her the obituary, and she didn't recognize Ruby at all. Ruby was someone she loved and admired but she was now a stranger.  So was my mom.

I need my Mom so much right now. I need her to hug me and tell me that it's going to be OK and that she's not afraid and she's ready to reunite with her loved ones again.

My mom needs me now. She needs me to hug her and tell her it's OK to go. She needs me to say that she's taught me about being strong and that I can handle it and that I will OK. She needs me to release her into the arms of God because beyond the veil my dad is waiting with that sweet gap-toothed smile to take her into his arms again. He's waiting for her to be young, happy, nurturing, caring, and wickedly sarcastic again. I want so badly to let her go, and yet I want to cling to her with all of my strength, even if it's not really her.

What more can she do? What more can be taken from her? Why must she "exist" when she can't "live?" The happiness, the laughter, the sarcasm, the nurturing, caring, all of it is gone. I ask again, what more can be taken from her? Dignity? It's gone. Dear God, what are you waiting for, why not welcome her into your Kingdom, take the emptiness and fill her with your love. Restore her here on earth or restore her in heaven but please God, restore her.  I want my mom to be whole and happy again. As much as I want her here with me, I want her with you more. Please God, hear my plea.


"Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done." (Luke 22:42)

He restores my soul: he leads me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. (Psalm 23:3)

Check the Boxes

Some jobs have scripts that must be followed and it doesn't matter what the consumer/patient says, these questions must be asked and each box checked. I had a hysterectomy sometime in the 90's (more on that later) and after the surgery, I was not improving, in fact, each day I felt worse. I was anticipating the fun of telling my girlfriends that I no longer had to deal with periods but I was too sick to brag. Anyway, after talking to my doctor she said to check in through the ER and she would meet me there.

The employee checking me in was a young man probably in his 20's. I sat down and the questions began.

Why are you here today?

I had a hysterectomy last week and something isn't right so my doctor said to come to the ER.

When was your last menstrual cycle?

I don't know, but I can assure you it's not relevant to this particular problem and I'm about to pass out.

Are you on your period now?

No, I'm hemorrhaging and can feel my life blood slipping away but I'm not currently on my period nor will I ever be again. I'm gonna sit on the floor now so I don't get a concussion when I pass out.

Is there any chance that you're pregnant?

Oh honey, bless your heart.  I've got an idea, if you run across a question that you wouldn't ask a man skip it because for real I'm about to drop right here in this lobby. Get the stretcher and a crash cart ready.

For the record, I DID pass out but was fortunate to already be in a bed. When you're hooked up to a bunch of monitors and your heart rate plummets they RUSH to your bedside and you don't have to answer any more questions, THEN you can brag about no periods.

I have a great number of health issues and therefore have several doctors. This means that frequently I have to complete health information that I cannot possibly remember. It goes something like this.

Please list any previous surgeries and when they were performed.

Tonsillectomy - when I was a kid

Appendectomy - in the 80's

Hysterectomy - in the 90's

Some knee surgeries maybe in the 90's but most likely the 2000's.

My friend Beth helps me piece together the memories of my life from the 70's and 80's but even she can't keep up with all my health issues. So this is what happened yesterday when I went to the doctor. I was there to see the nurse practitioner and I have always had great luck with nurse practitioners. He was extremely nice, very personable but we had a few snags in our conversation. It went mostly like this.

How long have you had these particular symptoms?

I don't know, a few months maybe.

A few months!!! Why didn't you come in sooner?

I don't know, didn't feel like it I guess.

Well, that's terrible, you should come see us when you're sick, don't wait so long next time.

OK.

Looking at your chart I

What chart?

Your medical chart.

Oh, OK.

I see that you were hospitalized in 2007 with pancreatitis, are your current symptoms similar to those in 2007?

You're kidding me, right? I have a vague memory of pancreatitis, that was nasty stuff, but until you mentioned it I couldn't have told you within a couple of years either way when I had it. Beth might remember but I don't. I suffer from memory issues.

Who's Beth?

A very dear friend that I've known since I was 16.

Why would Beth know?

She helps keep track of my life, there was a gap of time when I moved to Richardson that I wasn't under her wing though so 2007 might have slipped through the cracks.
Ask me about 2006 though! I almost had a heart attack in 2006!

What? I don't see that in your chart!

What chart?

Your medical chart.

Why would it be in my medical chart?

Didn't you say you almost had a heart attack?

Yes. The Mavs were leading the series 2-0 and then inexplicably imploded and lost the next 4 to the Heat. I hate the Heat. I hated them before Lebron and that Velociraptor Bosch joined the team then once they joined up, yikes, my hate runs deep for the Heat.

Are you talking about basketball?

Yes. What did you think I was talking about?

Your health.

I was. That series really hurt my heart. I've never recovered but ask me about 2011! Go ahead, ask...I went stark raving crazy in 2011.

I don't see any mental health issues on the chart for 2011.

Chart?

Your medical chart.

Why would it be on my medical chart? Anyway, in June of 2011, we won it all. We beat the Heat! Wade, Lebron, and Bosch (he really does look like a velociraptor.) I went crazy! Alas, the Rangers lost to the Cardinals in the World Series, that kind of sucked, but Dirk and the Mavs! Whoo boy!

Basketball and Baseball?

Yes. Obviously.

Let's get back to your chart, your medical chart. What can you tell me about your hospital stay in 2007?

I've got nothing. Too late for Beth and too early for Tracy.

Who's Tracy?

She took over for Beth but I didn't know Tracy when I moved to Richardson that's why there are gaps in my history.

That doesn't bother you?

Hell yes it bothers me, I would have loved to have a seamless transition from Beth to Tracy but I didn't know Tracy yet.

Have you thought of keeping track of it yourself? You do seem to have a keen memory for sports, maybe you could parlay that into remembering your health issues.

Parlay? Argghh (that's pirate talk.) I made a notebook once with all of my doctors in it and lab results and stuff. I even had business card holders, tabs, it was cool.

That would be excellent, why didn't you bring it today?

I don't know where it is.

Perhaps your husband could accompany you during your visits so you have someone else with you that can remember important information regarding your health.

Not a bad idea, I will have to ask Tracy when Paul might be available.

The clinician in me is SCREAMING to stop asking questions but the rest of me realizes what a tremendous train wreck this is and can't stop myself. Why do you need to ask Tracy about your husband's schedule?

Well, he emails his schedule to me (and Tracy) but sometimes I go a day or 2 without checking my email and then I end up with hundreds of emails and it overwhelms me so I delete all of them and start over. Occasionally, one of his emails might get deleted and then I won't know he's out of town until I get hungry.

I'm sorry...did you say you don't notice he's not home until you get hungry?

Yes, he's the cook so when I get hungry at night and he's not home I know he's either running late or out of town. After I've been hungry for a while I call Tracy.

Why don't you call him?

Oh, he never answers his phone.

I see. Well, since you waited a while to come in to see us I don't suppose it would hurt to wait a few days more so why don't we go out and make an appointment with the doctor. I'll warn her, I mean I will tell her, I'll just make a note in your chart that you stopped in.

What chart?

No, I will NOT KEEP CALM!

We did this picture as a joke but it's all too real.

AT&T has a series of commercials now that highly agitate me, most commercials do but this sequence of commercials are especially disturbing. I realize that these are actors playing a role, they are not a real family (hopefully) and they are "over"acting because that is what the role requires. Good for them, they have a job but, if I ever see the mom in these ads I will most likely punch her. Just like I occasionally exaggerate some of my stories a tad to give them a bit more punch, commercials do the same.

If you've watched the Olympics you've seen these ads. The family loses their Internet connection and then they instantaneously lose their collective minds, the parents are as immature and irascible as the kids. They go through various preposterous scenarios the longer their Internet connection is broken. In one ad they are peeping on their neighbors watching cat videos, one the family stares blindly while one of them "plays" the piano, in one the dad is actually lying on the floor overwrought about this dreadful loss of "life" in their family. I find myself wanting to scream at the TV, "Get off the floor you despicable man and be a better role model for your bratty kids!" They are worrying about the wrong connection.

Amelia and I were out to eat one day when I saw an adorable little girl, probably around a year old with her mom and grandfather. The mom and grandfather were staring at their phones while the little girl sat there in her high chair entertaining herself. It was heartbreaking. What were they missing? Sweet smiles, goofy faces? Time flies, in a year she will have her own device to stare at and all connection between them will be lost.

Keep Calm, Your Childhood Is Gone

My mom is gone, or at least the mom that I knew, the one that was my friend and my foundation. She recognizes me although sometimes calls me by another name but she can no longer carry on a conversation. She does have good days but mostly when I'm with her we simply sit. The temptation is great to grab my phone instead of "being" with her but that is disrespectful. I have been guilty of doing this on occasion but usually, I catch myself and stop. I don't know how long I have with her (or anyone for that matter) and I don't want my last memories to be me playing Candy Crush.

Keep Calm, Your Parent Is Gone

The most recent in the series of ads the family is finally sitting together and a new "character" the grandfather appears. Mom (the one I want to punch in the face) asks her dad to tell them stories because he apparently is a great storyteller. As he begins a story Mom interrupts him to tell him to move on to the next story. We don't know at this point (hopefully the resolution follows in the next ad) why he has to skip to the next story, are they not appropriate or are they uninteresting in this "connected" world? You cold-hearted wretch of a mother, you have your family around you, your dad in front of you and your insolence on display before your kids. Hopefully, your Internet connection restores quickly and you can break this family "connection" that you clearly want to avoid. I would joyously surrender my Internet to have my dad return to us and I would listen attentively to every story he told even if I knew each of them from many tellings.

Keep Calm Your Family Is Gone

Write Me Up!

I've often wondered what it would be like if I was born in a different time. It's impossible to know but here are a few possibilities.

The Bible
Moses, sorry to bother you but some of the girls and I have been talking and we're wondering about all this wandering (I wonder as I wander) and how much longer we are required to do this. We've been wandering so long I've named the rocks - there's Hudson, Dwayne, Crocodile, and my favorite, Fraggle. Don't get me wrong, we were totally impressed with the parting of the Red Sea, I bet people will be talking about that 50 years from now but is it possible you misunderstood this wandering thing? Any chance of renegotiating? I'm sorry we were so horrible but we thought you'd died when you left for so long on the mount, that golden calf was a really bad idea but those of us left didn't worship it. If we promise to be good could we stop wandering? Is there any way we can prove our worthiness?

Noah -  Are you sure about the termites and the beavers?

The Scarlet Letter

What's Hester doing up there? Methinks yond embroidery work is most wondrous.

Didst thee not heareth?

Nay, I didst not heareth Nellie.  I hath been darning socks all damn day.  Methinks Paul frolics without his shoes. Hast thou seen that gent frolicking? Doth thee thinketh the lady Hester wouldst darn these socks, the lady doeth such valorous work. Yond A looks wonderful. Prithee wherefore the mistress is on displayeth.

The lady committed adultery.

Damnation! Nay the horror!

Holdeth thy tongue Mistress Patricia!

Doth thee knoweth who is't the lady's been with?  Paul best not be doing yond kind of frolicking or that gent's going to receiveth a darning needle where the lamp shineth not.

The lady hast not named her lover.

Verily? Good for her, I wonder if it beest that new hottie of a minster?

Mistress Patricia, thee shall rotteth in Hell.

Thee knoweth thee were bethinking the same thing thee fusty biddy.

It's probably best I was born when I was...things might not have gone so well for me, especially if I had been in Salem in 1692, just a small change from the actual year (1962) I wast born!

Doctor's note: Avoid gymnastics activities due to concussion

I changed my major 4 times in college. I started in Business, ugh, boring and too much math. I'm not sure I remember major 2 and 3, I think Sociology and Social Work too depressing, then I ended up in Education. I liked sports and I liked to read so I chose Physical Education with a minor in English with the assumption that I would teach and also become a big time coach, probably football. American football. Possibly basketball - I imagine I would have been in the NBA by now coaching Dirk had I stuck it out.

However, that's not how it worked out. When you're majoring in PE you are required to take PE classes. Weird. I took soccer, basketball, volleyball, and other stuff - don't remember what else. I do remember having to take gymnastics. Yup. Gym-freakin-nastics. The instructor had a name like Barbie (for real that was her first name) Barnes, Brown, Barnett. I don't remember the last name but she looked like a Barbie B...I called her something else that also started with a B but that's not important. Part of the problem was that I had a huge crush on my Kinesiology professor and she was dating him, the other problem was that she wanted me to do gymnastics while in her stupid gymnastics class. What a cloosterfooken that was. So, I'm on the balance beam, the real balance beam, not a beam on the floor but the real one, just like in the Olympics. I'm on the beam, I have no idea even how I got up on the damn thing and next thing I know, I'm not on the beam anymore. Barbie's in my face asking me how I'm doing. Barbie, I just fell 30 feet off of that 1/2"  beam, how do you think I'm doing? It's possible it wasn't 30 feet tall and it's also possible it was wider than 1/2" but at the time it felt like it was tall and narrow. I ended up dropping the class that semester (had to retake it though) because I had a concussion and had to suspend my gymnastics activities for a while - suspending gymnastic activities was not something I ever thought I would hear.

Funny, I never had to teach gymnastics. Of course, after my student teaching debacle I never had to teach anything. I did my student teaching at a high school my last semester of college. It was then that I discovered I don't even like kids. The very first unit I "taught" was weight lifting. I weighed 105 soaking wet and I was teaching football boys weight lifting which should have been the beginning of my incredible coaching career but was not. I broke my thumb the first week when I dropped one of the weights directly on my thumb, my right thumb. I'm right handed. My supervising teacher was a coach, basketball coach and I might have seen him twice the entire semester. He would send one of the boys out with the attendance book and I would send it back in to him when I was finished. The person that I am now would NEVER stand for that kind of nonsense but I was too afraid to say anything to him. Even if I hadn't had a bad experience I never would have taught. I can't for the life of me imagine why I ever thought I would teach, I guess I chose that degree because underwater basket weaving wasn't an option. Of course, I would have probably cut myself while I was underwater weaving baskets, bled, and gotten eaten by a shark so that wouldn't have worked out either.

Mischief, Swarm, Pits, and Rhumba OH MY!

The following is an absolutely true story (depending on who you talk to.)

Several months ago Princess Willa and I heard a disturbance in the bathroom (not farts this time.) We cautiously entered the bathroom and were met with squeaking and rustling sounds. Mice. We had mice.

I called Paul.

We have mice, you need to come home and get them.
I can't come home now, I have a meeting in 10 minutes.
Your life is a series of meetings, they won't notice if you miss one.
Yes, they will.
Oh my gosh, they're rabid mice!
How do you know that?
Because they are talking to each other and one of them said she had a fever and she's not sure why she's drooling so much. You need to come home and get them.
I can't come home now, I have a meeting in 9 minutes and you don't know how to talk to mice.
Tell them you're sick, foam at the mouth a little when you tell them, and I'm not talking to them, I'm listening to them.
I'm not going to foam at the mouth and I'm not coming home.
Oh my gosh, there are rats too!
How do you know?
I just heard the mice welcome the rats, the rats asked how the food was here and the mice told them it was good and plenty - just like the candy.  The mice also told them the cat was lazy and wouldn't bother them but the man of the house was a real stud and they needed to stay clear of him. You need to come home and get all of them. They are all here with their extended families. There are thousands of them! You really need to get home and get them.
I can't come home now, I have a meeting in 8 minutes.
OH NO!
What's wrong now?
It's Uncle Lester, a snake ate him! Uncle Lester was a HUGE rat (I heard his wife nag him about his weight and his diabeetus (say that like Wilford Brimley when you read it) and a snake ate him! We have mice, rats, and snakes now will you come home and get them?
I can't come home now, I have a meeting in 7 minutes.
I hear rattles, it's a rattlesnake. There are several rattlesnakes, it's a rhumba of rattlesnakes!
A rhumba of rattlesnakes?
Yes, I googled it, a crapload of rattlesnakes is called a rhumba. Other snakes (which are also down there I might add) are called den, bed, pit, or nest. So we have rhumbas and pits. You need to come home and get them.
I can't come home now, I have a meeting in 6 minutes.
But we have mischief under the house.
Mischief?
Yeah, a group of mice are called family (ginormous family, like Sly and the Family Stone kinda family), horde, nest, or mischief. I like mischief. Rats are called pack (pack rats?) horde, swarm, or mischief. In summary we have mischief, swarm, pits and rhumba under the house. You need to come home and get them.
I can't come home now, I have a meeting in 5 minutes. Do you think you might be exaggerating a tad?
You've know me for a hundred years, I never exaggerate. I hope we're all still alive when you get home. I can't let the dogs outside because there is a rout of coyotes in the back yard. You need to come home and get them.
You seem to have a lot of time to Google all these terms, I think  you're probably safe. I can't come home now, I have a meeting in 4 minutes.
OK, I hope the  lions, tigers, and bears are gone before you get home.

Sure he's smart but...

He really is smart even though he has perfected the "stunned" look.

My husband Paul is a very intelligent man, until it comes to me. Well, he was obviously brilliant when he married me but he has a vulnerable side where I'm concerned. At least 4 times a year I do something insanely stupid where our finances are concerned. Here's a typical phone conversation:

P: "Have you seen any mail from Bank of America?"

Me: "No, we don't have an account there so if I did see something I would probably shred it."

P:"We had our mortgage with them."

Me: "Oh, we paid that off though."

P: "Yes, but after paying it off they send us the title for the house so we need it."

Me: "Oh."

P: "Can you look for it?"

Me: "Now?"

P: "Now would be good."

Me: "I'm watching Ellen right now."

P: "Don't you think finding this document might be more important than watching Ellen?"

Me: "Is that a trick question?"

P: "No, let me know if you find it."

He has a beautiful smile and look at that twinkle in his eye!

2 hours later

P: "Did you find it?"

Me: "No."

P: "Why didn't you call and tell me?"

Me: "You said to let you know if I found it, I didn't so I didn't call."

P: "Ah, OK. Did you find any bills while you were looking at all the piles of mail?"

Me: "Uh...I was looking for the other thing, there might have been bills."

P: "Do you think you should look for them?

Me: "OK. I guess this isn't a trick question either."

1 hour later

P: "Did you find any bills that need to be paid?"

Me: "Yes."

P: "Did you pay them?"

Me: "Uhm...love ya, bye!"

And sometimes he makes mountains out of minuscule molehills.

When you love someone you want them to look their best so naturally if I see something that can easily be fixed I fix it. One day when we were sitting in the car I noticed a gnarly hair sticking out of his ear. I lovingly and gently plucked it from his ear and he cried like a little girl. Well, when I think about it we might have already been driving on the highway at about 75 miles per hour and extracting a hair from his ear might have been a tad surprising.

Looking dapper here - keeping his ear hairs under control helps.

Then there's the allegation that I tried to run over him with the car. Obviously this is an unsubstantiated claim, it's a matter of he said, she said and there were no corroborating witnesses. Granted, I'm not sure exactly how the car ended up in reverse but I tapped him ever so gently and he smiled at me so obviously he was fine. To hear him tell it you would think I hit him with a German Panzer, his mom ran over his dad's foot and he didn't complain. Well, he might have complained a bit. I guess they're both a little soft.

Engagement picture - so young!

A little older

I'm broken. At age 39 I was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis, Fibromyalgia, and Sjogrens Syndrome. I've suffered with depression for a long time but the RA intensified it. At the time of the diagnosis Paul and I had been married for 13 years. On August 27, 1988 Paul promised to love me in sickness and in health and he's fulfilled that vow even though there's been more sickness than health. He is a man of faith, 'What would Jesus Do' is not a catchphrase to him, it's how he lives his life EVERY SINGLE DAY.

Paul filling in at the pulpit for Community Christian Church

There is a "Love Your Spouse" challenge going around on Facebook where you are supposed to post a picture of you and your spouse for 7 days to show your love. There isn't a single picture (or 7) I could post that could embody the faith and love he exhibits. I'm a lucky woman, I married an amazing man. I wish I could come up with a picture to display it.

FARTS

I hate to be startled. I'm not talking about the kind of startled where you wake up on your birthday and are startled by the fact that you're another year older and you haven't done all the things you had planned to do by this stage in your life. For example: climbing Everest, swimming the English channel, flying solo over the Atlantic, getting all the way through Moulin Rouge so you can try to understand what all the fuss is about. Thankfully you realize that you never wanted to do any of those things and you're relieved momentarily until you grasp the fact that you're another year older and you still haven't cleaned out the junk room (it didn't used to be called the junk room, before it was a bedroom) and then you are completely overcome with the realization that there are actually 3 junk rooms. You also have never finished an entire New York Times Sunday crossword, lost weight, or cleaned any of the other rooms. At this point you've passed startled, you're stunned, astonished, even terrified. I mean terrified like seeing a clown kind of terrified (every time Cameron on 'Modern Family' dresses up as a clown I have to hold someones hand to get through it.) Anyway, I really hate being startled and I will go from  mildly pleasant to raging beast if you startle me on purpose.

On our honeymoon (for our ADP friends we stayed in room 401) one night I was stricken with a bad case of the hiccups. The lights were out and we were trying to sleep. Suddenly, Paul screams and I levitate off the bed so high that I nearly broke my nose on the ceiling. I ran for the phone to see if there was a lawyer with late hours so I could immediately divorce this fiend that I thought would always be good to me. Yes, it cured the hiccups but I stayed awake the rest of the night with a bread knife in my hand just in case the demon shrieked again.

The demon now frightens me by farting frequently. Deafening, startling farts. At night while on the verge of sleep and this happens:

I jump out of bed wondering if it's the emergency air sirens warning of a tornado or maybe a Zombie Apocalypse. Nope, Paul farted.  Five minutes later when my heart rate returns to normal sinus rhythm he's snoring, obviously feeling much better after that booming breaking of wind. Startles me. I hate to be startled, especially by flatulence. I'm giving some thought to upgrading from the butter knife, that boy will be sounding like the Bee Gees some day if he keeps this up.

Ever eaten Beanitos? They're tasty, they have protein, fiber, they're free of GMO's, artificial flavors and colors, corn, MSG, gluten...on and on. As the name suggests, they're made from beans, radioactive beans. Beanito farts are toxic. One day, Amelia and I went to the grocery store and I Beanito farted as we were pulling in to the parking lot. We both were gasping for air so I rolled the windows down to air out the car (the leather was peeling under my butt.) I rolled the windows back up while we were in the store. It was a hot Texas day, 30 minutes later when we opened the car doors we were struck by a putrid, Beanito, level 5, defcon fart, 2 birds on a nearby wire dropped dead and the lady next to us called 911 to report a gas leak. When I explained to her it was a fermented Beanito fart she also asked for the police. Beware the Beanito fart, they don't have a warning label on the bag but consider yourself forewarned.

At this point of the story I'm going to change the names to protect the guilty perpetrators of fart crimes. One late night as our family was checking in to a hotel, one family member, I'll call her Celeste, elevator farted. She thought she'd left it outside the elevator but it followed her anyway. An elevator fart removes all breathable oxygen. Fortunately, the hotel only had 3 floors so we all survived relatively unscathed even though the memory (like a Beanito fart) lingers.

I have a friend I'll call Elizabeth that never allowed her husband Kevin to poot around her (poot is her word for fart.) I don't know if that's still the case, they've been married over 30 years, have 3 kids that have probably pooted a lot so she's probably loosened the poot rules by now. She's also the friend that sings 'Trailers for Rent' in the bathroom when she's drunk, and waves at you under the stalls, or thinks it's you when it's really the waitress. But that's a whole 'nother story!!!!

A few random point point point(s) I want to make!

I woke up this morning with bite marks on my ankles, no you sickos Paul didn't make them and they weren't bug bites, they were actual bite marks. Princess Willa has a KING size bed and if you happen to move your foot in front of her teeth she will bite you. It's not pleasant.

That look says it all.

I have a necklace that is my late mother-in-law's fingerprint that I wear daily, even if I'm not leaving the house. I used to leave it on the dresser at night but the aforementioned cat would steal it. I do love the word aforementioned - I don't use it enough and I also love the word capricious. I rarely use it - instead I use the more common synonym - shit head. Speaking of words I love - one of my favorites is "point." Yes, point. If you are on a computer keyboard (not your phone or tablet) type the word point and see if it's not the most fun you will have while typing! Anyway, now I leave it in Paul's cuff link box because so far she hasn't figured out how to open that to steal jewelry. Yes, she's a cat and she steals, she's a cat burglar.  This morning the box was gone and I went in to full on panic mode. Of course, I knew that it was here, but there was a tiny amount of fear until I found it. You can see the necklace in the ridiculous pictures below. 

That faraway look that says, "I don't know what the hell I'm doing."

This is the necklace.

I have no idea how to take selfies. I mean I understand how to work the camera but I don't know where to look. Thus we play the count the chins and what is she looking at game.  Do y'all remember when I was stick figure skinny and I could eat anything I wanted and never gain weight? I miss those days so much.

I went to the doctor today and girls, I know you know what I'm talking about! I get up and I've got 45 minutes until my appointment and I need to pee. What to do? You never know if they will need a urine sample. Should I go ahead and pee, drink a lot of water on the way and hope I can go if they need it, or do I wait? If I wait what if I'm in an accident? Or worse, what if I cough or sneeze? Such a dilemma. 

When Katy was around 4 the doctor needed a urine sample. I took her to the bathroom and told her she needed to pee in the cup. Oh my. She started crying and saying (loudly), "cups aren't for peeing, they're for drinking!" She had a point point point - (that never gets old!) Needless to say, no urine sample was obtained and when I went to tell the nurse that we failed she said, "I know, I heard!"

I almost had a wreck today because a lady waved at me when I let her merge in front of me, the gesture was so shocking I almost ran off the road. Later, I was next to someone that honked the second the light turned green because the people in front of him didn't immediately hit the gas and go. As God as my witness do that to me and you've got a good 5-10 seconds before I think about moving my foot from the brake to the accelerator and those seconds are going to feel like a lifetime when you're an asshole. If you can't wait even a second before you lay on that horn then you need to leave earlier or stay home. You should probably have your blood pressure checked before you stroke out while driving. You're a menace. You're a capricious, aforementioned, jackass. I believe I've made my point point point.

Gigi

My good fortune began in January of 1961. Now, those that know how young I am realize that it's not possible for anything to happen to me in 1961 (well, other than conception) nevertheless, the story of who I am today began then. In January of 1961 my future in-laws Jim and Ruby adopted Paul in a private adoption and forever changed the trajectory of his life and indirectly mine as well.

Ruby had numerous titles in her life, wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, home-maker, bookkeeper, but on February 11, 1991 she became a grandmother (Gigi), a role she was destined to play and one that was perfectly suited for her. She served as Gigi to so many people, not just her four grandchildren. She was the grandmother that everyone deserves but few actually receive.

Gigi was the consummate homemaker, a Martha Stewart without the orange jumpsuit or the pretense. I feel like in the presence of Martha Stewart I would be uncomfortable and inadequate. In the presence of Gigi I WAS inadequate but she never made me feel that way.  She didn't insult my abilities (or lack thereof) and she didn't try to change me or pressure me to be a better housekeeper, wife, mom, cook, or person. Maybe she realized the futility of such an endeavor or far more likely she accepted me as I am. I learned a great deal from her and I believe that I am a better person because of her. Once, many years ago I was driving and as usual got impatient and whined about the man in front of me not going as fast as he should, she calmly said, "He's probably someone's sweet grandfather." That stuck with me. I'm still impatient, but I try harder to be patient and more like her. WWGD?

I was honored to spend time with Jim and Ruby while she was ill, the three of us developed a daily routine together. My favorite time of the day was bedtime. I would take her pills to her, tuck her in, kiss her, and tell her I loved her. How extraordinarily blessed I was to share this time with her and I thank God for allowing me that opportunity, but I wanted so much more and I had so much more to learn from her. There wasn't enough time.

I can't tell you how often I complained about how this wasn't fair and that this wasn't supposed to happen to her. She came from near indestructible stock - her father lived to almost 101 and her mom was 94 when she passed away so obviously we were expecting a great deal more time with Ruby. You always think that you have more time. Never once did she complain. Never once did she ask "why me?" and she never gave up hope. It's possible that when she was alone she questioned God but never in front of me. Even as her health continued to deteriorate she stayed strong in her faith. I didn't. I'm still asking "why her?" and I'm still angry, and I still feel cheated by God. I obviously had more to learn from her, and now that chance is gone and it makes me angrier. I needed more time.

My grief is personal and painful.  It wakes me up at night, takes my breath away, and physically hurts. Waves of tears hit without warning and the emptiness is almost too much to bear. I alternate between total disbelief that she's gone and the cold reality that it's true. I know from enduring this pain when I lost my dad that it does get easier but I also know that you're never complete again. She was our matriarch; the one that orchestrated all of our family's celebrations and now that she's gone it will take several of us working together to attempt to fill the void she left. We thought we had more time to learn.

I was in the room when she passed away. Throughout that night and into the early morning she didn't display fear or uncertainty. She faced her death with the grace that characterized her life. I guess she had at least one more lesson to teach me.

1. Time is now fleeting, the moments are passing,
   Passing from you and from me;
   Shadows are gathering, deathbeds are coming,
   Coming for you and for me.
2. 
   

From the Hymn Softly and Tenderly

Link to obituary and slide show:

http://obits.dignitymemorial.com/dignity-memorial/obituary.aspx?n=Ruby-Latham&lc=1759&pid=179555875&mid=6880775

Rights, beliefs, and a mattress

Let me get a few things out in the open, I think most people know that I'm a conservative, here are a few things I would like to say about that. As a conservative:

I believe that President Obama is a US citizen, I don't believe he's Muslim, I don't dislike him because he's black. I have the utmost respect for the office of the Presidency but I don't have a great deal of respect for him mainly because I don't like his policies. I have the right to not like him.

My prayers are with the Scalia family due to the death of Justice Scalia. I don't like the timing of his death but I suppose there's nothing I can do about it. I realize that as the POTUS, President Obama has the right to replace Justice Scalia. I don't like it but I'm powerless to do anything about it. I do pray for the health of the remainder of the SCOTUS. I don't believe the President put a hit out on Justice Scalia, that's ridiculous.

Donald Trump scares me more than clowns and that is a great deal of scared right there. Maybe because I think he's a clown but he really frightens me. I can't believe that we have reached the point where a reality star is the front runner for nomination. I'm not thrilled with any of the choices but at this point I would choose Senator Rubio. I hate politics. It sickens me to hear these politicians slinging mud at each other. Why can't they talk about their beliefs and their plans for the country? Shouldn't that be enough?

Secretary Clinton, I don't like her at all and it's not because she's a woman. She frightens me too and I have the right to dislike and distrust her.

Senator Sanders, nothing is free. Quit promising that everything will be free if you're President. It doesn't work that way, that's not how any of this works. Take a basic economics course. 

I don't believe in climate change, global warming whatever you want to call it. Gore is an opportunist. Bill Nye the science ???? guy loves jetting around the world talking about it. Carbon footprint? Leonardo DiCrapio jets his way across the globe to talk about the environment. I don't appreciate the "Do as I say not as I do" approach. 

I'm grateful that I live in Texas and not in Iowa, New Hampshire, South Carolina...the election season would drive me to drink and get on my very last nerve (I'm close to the edge now.) There really isn't a medication strong enough to bring me back from the brink. If it did exist the price would be exorbitant. For medical reasons I can't drink but I would not heed my doctors warnings if I lived in those states. Anyway, I'm glad I live in Texas because as everyone knows and should agree on it's the best place in the world.

I don't like Kanye. That should be another thing we can all agree on. It's not often we can find common ground but this should be one of those times.

I have another item to talk about. Sunday I completed an LTC class. There is another class involved in getting my license and I plan on completing it. the responsibility of owning a gun is immense. You have to realize when carrying a gun that a person could die, even yourself. I WILL NOT carry a gun unless I become proficient and confident in my abilities. I may get a gun for target practice or maybe for concealed carry. I don't know yet but it is my right to decide. If I choose to carry I promise never to carry into anyone's home without their knowledge and consent. 

I ordered a king size mattress on Amazon. Yes, someone is going to deliver a KING size mattress to my doorstep. It's going to be tough getting it in the house and getting the old one out to the curb but we live in a country where you can buy a mattress online. God Bless America!