Good Bye Old Pal...

I'm about to be done with a Sudoku book that I've been working on forever!  When I do a puzzle, I date it and write down what I was doing while completing the grid.

According to my dates, when I started this book, Summer was 5 years old and Nicholas was 3!  They are 11 and 9 now.  What is funny about charting my life through the the times when I do Sukoku, is that these are the moments when my life is at extremes...relaxing, pretending to relax during stressful situations, watching TV, being alone, being in a group of people.  I've only got 14 puzzles left.  My hope is to finish this book asap.  It will be with great sadness and a little relief that I chuck this book in the recycling bin.  A lot of work.  A lot of memories.  And, a lot of books still to go.  *SIGH*

 Here's the Cliff's Notes from the story...

This was when Summer and Nicholas were still little.  I'm sure that The Corpse Bride was a movie that I rationalized as a cartoon/animated movie and something that I would enjoy watching too.  Summer used to love this movie.  In March of 2007, she was five and Nicholas was three.  Gee...that doesn't seem like a G rated movie.  Oops.

Your tax dollars at work, folks.  In 2007, I was a second grade teacher and rather than do something productive with my time while waiting for the next parent/teacher conference to show up, I played Sudoku.  I'm not too proud of this one either.

We don't have a fancy garden tub in our master bath, and when I want to take a tub that means I bathe in the kids' bathroom. According to this entry, Nicholas must have wanted to join me.  He was still three years old and as his Pop Pop and GrandMark said, "terminally delicious".

I just shared with Nicholas this... ( Mind you, he reads and writes in cursive now.)  At nine, he didn't even remember the show or the character Jay Jay the Jet Plane.  Ugh...my heart is a little broken.  He used to LOVE that show and even made up his own songs and lyrics that featured Jay Jay.

And in the same vein as Jay Jay, there was Thomas.  Thomas was Nicholas's LIFE!  All he did was watch Thomas, play with Thomas toys, collect Thomas trains, wear Thomas logo clothes, sing songs about Thomas.  We do not have even one single solitary Thomas left.  The DVD's, books, toys, clothes, jammies...all gone.

 

Some things don't change (much) though.  I am still a NASCAR fan but I no longer have kids who take afternoon naps.  No afternoon nap means no excuse to sit in front of the TV for 3+ hours on a Saturday or Sunday.  Now, I either miss the race or tape it and then fall asleep watching it anyway.  

While the kids and I were enjoying a meal at the Colonade, I must have thought that it would be a good idea to do Sudoku.  Weird.  My guess is that in 2008, I didn't have an iphone to poke at... I know that I am guilty for being on my phone when just the kids and I go out for food.  

In 2008, my cousin got married and we drove to Charleston.  I did about a million puzzles on the ride up and back.  

Unrelated to my cousin, Stephanie Harvey came to speak to the teachers in Hillsborough County.  Not wanting to be forced to make chit chat with my colleagues, I brought my Sudoku book as a protective shield.

Usually, I only do the puzzles on the right side of the book because I like to fold back the cover.  When you fold back the cover though, it makes an annoying wrinkle on the opposite page.  If you break the spine on the book, the pages will fall out.  So, that is why I only do the right side of the page.  But, I decided to do something a little differently.  The writing says, "Two years working on the even numbered puzzles.  Now restart on the odd numbers.  5/3/08"  (I should also note that this particular book is made out of regular quality paper whereas most puzzle books are newsprint.  The newsprint is even more of a pain in the neck because the lead transfers from the opposite page.  Another reason why I would do this book "again".)

Euphoria!  I remember working this puzzle, surveying my kingdom, and sitting on the fly bridge of my dad's boat at the marina in Old Bahama Bay.  Soon....soon...I will return to you, my beloved Bahamas!  Until then, I will count the days.

With my trusty Sudoku shield, I went camping with the Boy Scouts at MacDill Air Force Base.  Nothing says, "Don't talk to me." like a girl with a book of puzzles sitting by a campfire.  I am such a dork.  ;)

And so, here we are.  This was on 3/12/12.  My trusty Sudoku shield acted as my security blanket as I waited for my primary care physcician to approve my hysterectomy.  

Now, we are almost full circle from watching the Corpse Bride with the kids when they were just little, to watching Duck Dynasty with the kids now that they are older. 

So, as you can see, this book kind of marks points in my life.  As I complete the final few puzzles, I reflect on my life over the last five years.  A lot has changed.  But, thankfully, a lot is still the same.  I'm still a quirky dork.  My husband still loves me, quirks and all.  Summer is as tall as I am and we can wear the same size shoe now, but she's still my "Peanut".  Nicholas is obsessed with Lego kits and has left Thomas and Jay Jay behind, but he's still just my little guy.  

Thank you, Sodoku book.  You've been there with me through it all.  

Now, I have two crossword puzzle books, one other Sudoku book and one word search book to complete.  And then...finally...I can cross that off my 45under45 list.

Our Dynasty

We've been watching a lot of Duck Dynasty lately and I think that their way of life is creeping into mine.  Now, before I tell you what I've been doing, I feel that I should take a moment to give a super quick summary of the characters.  If you do not know these folks, you should.  They are quite funny, sincere, hillbilly types but fascinating non-the-less.

Phil Robertson (Founder of Duck Commander duck calls)
Miss Kay (Phil's wife)

Willie (Phil's son and CEO of Duck Commander)

Jase (Other son of Phil and Willie's brother)

Uncle Si (Phil's brother)

Phil is a college graduate and even has his Master's degree in English.  He enjoys duck hunting (obviously), spending time in nature, knowing how to live off the land and be self-sufficient and all of this with an undercurrent of hillbilly southern charm and a deep belief in God.  Miss Kay, his wife, is usually in the kitchen, loving her family through home cooked food.  She is proud to be cooking what Phil brings home:  duck, frog, squirrel, gator, wild honey...  They are quite a "happy, happy, happy" pair and perfectly suited for one another. When they interact on screen, it is highly evident that they have an amazing love for one another.

Willie and Jase are brothers.  (There are actually two other brothers too.  One named Jep and the other isn't on the show.)  Willie and Jase work together at the Duck Commander warehouse.  Willie is the college grad and CEO and Jase helps design and build duck calls with other members of the Robertson clan.  Willie and Jase are super competitive:  golfing, fishing, money making...

But, I think my favorite character (and I mean "character" as in, "Oh, he is such a character!") is Uncle Si.  Uncle Si is part hippy, part red neck, part Vietnam Vet, part seamstress, with a little roadkill to fill in the gaps.  He carries a gallon of tea with him wherever he goes and drinks it from an old fashioned Tupperware cup.  He is famous for saying, "Hey!" and for making up kooky expressions.

I'd like to say that as woman, I identify with Miss Kay most, but I don't think I do.  She's so loving and sweet and appears to not get rattled by much but yet she always gets her way.  I love that she loves her family through food.  No matter what the family dynamic may be, at the end of the day, Miss Kay puts on a big spread of home-cooked goodies and the whole family sits down to pray and eat together.  In a way, I wish I was more like Kay...able to cook and tend to the house all day, have a glass of iced tea ready for my husband before he even asks for it, not be so judgmental about others - just a real "Life is Good" kinda gal.   But, I guess that's kind of simple and backward....
Or is it?

A few days ago, my husband and I watched an episode where Jase, Willie, and Si stumbled upon and then obsessed over a bee hive filled with...honey!  Needless to say, they tried to get the bee hive but also, needless to say...without success.

Wise ol' Phil heads out with his grandson, Cole(Man) and shares an analogy of how bees are like women.  Phil, calmly goes up to the bee hive with a bee smoker and lulls the bees into submission.  Then, he removes the hive, places it in a box, and all without a single bee sting to him or to Cole.  Phil takes his fresh honey to Miss Kay who then makes a honey pecan pie.

Honey?  I love pecan pie.  I love honey.  We actually have a small farm less than a mile from our house and they sell raw honey on the honor system.  If you go onto the farm, you will be greeted by a super friendly dog, Bible verses, mismatched brick pavers, rusty things, and on this particular day, by Mrs. Marion Lambert (the wife of the man who owns and operates the farm).

So, while my husband was out with my precious darling sweet itty bitty baby boy (SHOOTING A GUN!!!), I decided to be a little more like Miss Kay.  I went to the local farm to get some fresh orange blossom honey. (I wimped out when it came to buying unpasteurized fresh cow's milk, butter, and free range eggs.)  I was fixin' to make me some honey pecan pie!!!

Pie in the oven

Muffin size individual pies.

Red neck cooling rack:  Oven shelf with cans of tuna

Sun tea to pay homage to Uncle Si

For more information about Marion Lambert's farm and products for sale:CLICK HERE

The recipe I used to make the pie filling:CLICK HERE

Nicholas and Shawn in the "duck blind"

It's a good thing, Shawn is teaching Nicholas how to shoot a gun.  Because we are under attack!  This is our dock with a "Chinook" helicopter preparing for the mock invasion of Tampa.

I think that allowing a little Duck Dynasty into our life is a good thing.  My husband calls my son "Dork Dynasty" which is probably a more accurate description of our family.  But, we are happy, happy, happy!

The Seccret

Prequel to this blog:  CLICK HERE

If you read yesterday's blog entry, then you know of my quest to find something interesting to watch on TV. Eventually I settled on "The Secret"  I typed up notes of what I was watching because I (sadly) like to take notes.  These are they:  (Isn't that so awkward?  "These are they."  It is the actual correct way to say it though and with all this FCAT Writing lowering the bar and dumbing down, I feel compelled to flex my grammar muscle.)

The intro began, all new age and Da Vinci Code-like.  Immediately, I felt like I had been sucker punched.  I thought this was a love story.  True.  Honest to God.  I didn't know it was going to be some gag me philosophical rant.  I've already paid for watching this, so there is no real reason to turn it off now.  Fine.

The following is a list of speakers:
Bob Doyle, Jack Canfield, David Schirmer, Dr. Joe Vitale, Lisa Nichols, James Arthur Ray, John Gray, Lee Brower, Denis Waitley, Mike Dooley, Marci Shimoff, John Assaraff, Bob Proctor, Marie Diamond, John Demartini, John Hagelin, Ben Johnson, Rev. Dr. Michael Beckwith, Morrise E Goodman, Hale Dwoskin, Fred Alan Wolf, Neale Donald Walsch

I typed in their names as they came up to give their portion of "The Secret".  I am embarrassed honest when I say that I do not know these people.  John Gray.  OK.  I know that one.  He's the Men Are From Mars... author.  My intention at the time of typing up their names was to look up these folks.  Who are these people?  Why are they qualified to know "The Secret"?  I bet they are a bunch of Anthony Robbins wannabes.

So, here's the secret y'all...

• Be positive.  Think positive thoughts and put that energy out into the universe.
• Make it your intention to have something small, like cup of coffee.  
• Change your thinking to expect something good instead of dreading what you don't want to have happen.
• Express gratitude.  It shifts energy to focus on all of the good things you have.  They shared a story about an example where the idea is to pick up a rock to put in your pocket to remind you to think of something that you are thankful for.  At the start of the day, place it in pocket.   And again, at the end of the day, think of things that happened that you are grateful for.

My son just earned a Boy Scout coin that relates to this very thing!  It's about doing good deeds or good turns.  The coin reads:  "Secretly transfer me to your right pocket each day after your good turn has been done."  And on the other side, "On my honor, I will do my best."  The Boy Scouts have been around for a long time and I put more faith in them than some "secret".  AND...the Boy Scouts encourage the kids to be "secret" about it, not to be a braggart.  Bravo BSA!

• Don't focus on complaints.
• When you visualize something the mind can't distinguish between the physical act and your thinking about it.  It creates the power of the attraction.  Don't think about it as something that will happen in the future, but something that is happening now.  The universe will make it happen.
• Do this daily, but not as a chore.

At this point in the movie, I was thinking, "Fine.  OK.  That's nice.  I can do that."  But, this information isn't a "secret".  Oprah's been talking about this stuff since I last regularly watched her show when I was in college (1988-1992).  So, I tried to keep my focus and continue to keep my mind open.

Then, some speaker talked about the word "disease" and broke it down into "dis" and "ease".  When your mind or body are diseased it is because you are not at ease.  You cannot be unhealthy if you are at ease.  If you are not at ease, you will find it easy to become dis-eased.

Now, this is something that I believe in.  I really think that if your brain is all twisted up and tortured, then a lot of times, your body will send out signals that it is "sick" in some way.  I believe this, but I'm not always doing something to actively keep myself well.  So, I guess that is something that I need to work on.  Especially while recovering from surgery.

Back to the show:

• Treat the universe like a catalog.  Select what you want, order it, put your energy toward getting that thing/goal and it will be yours.
• Everything is made up of energy:  body, cells, molecules, atoms, energy.  Even under a microscope your body is an energy field.  We are an energy field operating inside of another energy field.
• Decide what you want.  Believe it.  Believe it is possible.  Believe that you deserve it.  Trust that the universe will know how to manifest that.
• Do not focus on something you don't have.  That will attract more of what you don't have. Change your thinking.  Focus on what you want.

So, the show is over and I feel a little bit more informed.  My life has not had some giant shift because of watching this movie, but I do like that "dis-ease" part.  It's kind of corny the way the word is broken apart like that, but as a lover of words, I think that is why I like that part.  It's simple but something that I never thought about before.

Also, I'm super proud of how the "Good Turn" coin relates to something said in this show.  My husband is the den leader and bought that coin for our son and the other kids in his charge.  I think that raising our young people to be doers of good deeds is more valuable than "ordering what we want from the universe" and then expecting it to happen.  In fact, I think that ordering what we want and then expecting it is what is wrong with our society.  How rude!  One has to earn these things and do that in "turn" with others.

So, "Secret"... zero, Boy Scouts...one!

My brain is turning into mush!

So, I'm out of the hospital and recovering quite nicely.  I've watched a zillion hours of TV!  I didn't even know how much television there was out there to just suck up time and rot the brain.  Pawn Stars, Storage Wars, local news, Sister Wives, Duck Dynasty, Deadliest Catch, Chelsea Lately, some show about how there might be an "evil" gene that causes folks to become evil...  (I've stayed away from "Kelly" because I miss Regis.  I've never watched the Bachelor, Bachelorette, The Voice, Desparate Housewives, Kardashians, Glee...and I ain't starting now!)

I have, however, learned some interesting things.  The story of a guy who claimed to be the first to summit Mt. Mckinley (Dr. Fred Cook) and took a picture of himself at the top with an American flag...that was a fake.

Paul Revere was a silversmith.  Who knew?  There is a doctor in Tampa who is trying to help the very few kids with a reverse version of "Benjamin Button Disease".  Boys in some other country get their skin cut as a symbol for becoming a man.  These boys go through this and then have ashes and palm oil rubbed into their wounds to help them heal in the shape of alligator scales.  Then, they lie on their tummies in some fly ridden tent, with only twigs and branches as bedding.  (Makes my four hysterectomy incisions seems kind of lame.)  And that's about it.  I'm embarrassed to admit that I haven't actually absorbed much that is of any real value.

I am getting reeeeeaaaallllllly tired of commercials.
Geico:  Brand A and Brand B....Barf!
"My car is making this weird noise.  Weee-ooooo!  Weeee-oooooo!"  I would like to take out the person who invented that line of commercial.  Do people really audition for being this actor?  Are they proud of their resume now that they are responsible for adding that obnoxious noise into people's homes and lives?
"Safe-Light Repair....Safe-Light Replace"
And the Scoops commercial!  Food should not be animated!  Food should not talk!  Food should not be turned into some sort of plastic animation!  Bags of chips should not walk, talk, or have any type of facial feature!
And don't even get me started with the catheter commercials!  Oh.  My.  God!!!!

So, after much television I decided that I needed to leave "TV" and watch some "Apple TV".  Apple TV is a way to watch movies (old and new), access YouTube, and TONS of other things...but I was looking for a movie to watch.  Starting with "popular" and "newly released" films, I clicked my way through hundreds of titles.  No.  No.  And...no.

So, I ventured into the "classic" film genre.  As an English literature major, I am quite embarrassed to say that I'm not a reader and classic films are an easy way to kind of cheat about getting that story line in my head.  But none of those really quenched my thirst.  I thought about "Cleopatra" with Liz Taylor, but I knew that was not what I wanted either.  Then, I came across "Clockwork Orange".  Hummm....Maybe?  I don't know a single thing about this movie but I know that it is one kind of a classic film that everyone is supposed to see at some point.  I clicked on the trailer.  I.  Couldn't.  Even.  Watch.  TEN seconds!  Woah.  That is NOT gonna work for me at this time!

Heart racing, I clicked over to the "documentary" section and began to feel a sense of calm wash over me.  Yep, this is it.  A documentary.  That is exactly what I was craving.  But, I didn't want to watch a sports star, or a movie star, or some sad thing, or Godly thing, or some music star thing...  So, again, without knowing anything about it, I settled on "The Secret".  I've seen this book cover:  the fake old fashioned leather looking journal with a big red wax blob and calligraphy type script writing.  Ok.  Fine.  I'll do it.  What's the flippin' secret already?

I like taking notes.  So, I figured, I'd open up an empty blog post and just use that as a place to type up my notes.  Thinking, this might actually turn into a blog entry.  But not really thinking that it would amount to anything.  That was a few days ago.  Tomorrow I will share my thoughts on...

My Hospital Stay

Once I realized that I was in my room and out of surgery, I looked around and examined myself.  I had a new IV in my right hand, four incisions in my belly, a catheter, and anti-embolism stockings that alternated inflating like a massage.

At some point I was aware that my face was being washed off.  It was either my mom or my husband.  I figured that I must have been looking really bad and that I needed to be wiped down.  My eyes had some sort of Vaseline type goo on them and I rubbed my face.  That must have caused any lingering mascara to be smeared all over my cheeks, hence the wiping of the face.  I remember thinking, "This is weird.  I would not normally ever allow someone to just take a wet cloth and wipe my face, but oh well.  Whoever is doing this must be trying to be sweet and I must look really shabby.  Oh well...just go with it."

I recall asking about what time it was and that the time was around 2:30 or 3:00 and then asked for my husband and the kids.  They may have already been there but I don't know.  I'm not sure exactly what happened but presto they appeared.  Both kids entered my vision (I don't remember them walking into my room) and I was happy.  Still unsure of from where they came and about the time of day and school (they don't get out until after 3:00), I just knew that I was happy that they were there.

Was my mom there by herself before the kids showed up?  Did anyone visit me in the recovery room?  Did my husband go get the kids?  Who wiped my face?  Where did the kids come from?  What time was it?

I just couldn't put all the pieces of the puzzle together.  I remember letting the kids see my boo-boos and scooting over in the bed so that they could sit next to me.  At some point my mom was helping my daughter study for a test.  My mom was on my right and Summer on my left and they were talking over my body.  That was weird.  Then, Nicholas sat with me, actually he reclined in the bed with me.  (=

The kids explored around the room, opened the doors and cabinets, checked out the bathroom and I invited them to each take one glove to blow up and play with later.  A tech came in and took my vitals and I remember telling one of my kids to put their finger in the blood oxygen monitor.  Random.

I'm not sure when they left.  I remember my mom tying the tv remote to my bed and my husband telling me to call him whenever I woke up...no matter what.

I took pain medicine every three hours and also got my vitals checked every three hours.  That was nice because they came almost like a leap frog team one after the other instead of one coming every three and the other coming every four hours.

I called home after one of my nurse/tech checks.  I don't remember what I said or if I talked to anyone other than my husband but I know I talked to him.

Around 1:00 am the nurse/tech team came in and asked me if I was ready to move to a chair.  A chair?!  With a catheter?!  OK...Why not?  Everything is so out of the norm.  I think sitting in a chair at 1:00 am with a catheter is s super idea.  Right?  So, I called home to announce my daring adventure of sitting in a chair.  I talked to my husband who told me that he was sleeping with my son in our bed in my usual spot.  I guess that our conversation woke him up because Shawn put him on the phone.  "Are you OK, Mommy?" he faintly said into the phone.  My heart melted.  I don't think that I cried, but I might have.

Being able to call home knowing that my husband is a night owl was so nice.  I knew that he was there and he'd make me feel better.  I wasn't feeling bad or lonely per se, but just not right.  It's funny how a phone call can fill up your heart.  I'm not sure what we talked about, I just know that I was talking to someone and my husband was the someone that I wanted to talk to.  "I love you, Sposey."

Pre-Op Surgery

The morning of my surgery was also my son's ninth birthday.  He got up for school, wore his "free dress" outfit of choice, with his birthday boy pin that I bought him, and was prepared to go to school like any other day.  My husband took the kids to school while my mom stayed at home with me.

I showered with the prescribed "Dial" antibacterial soap, did not shave (as prescribed), did not put on any lotion (as prescribed) or any deodorant (also as prescribed).  Not having anything to eat or drink since midnight the night before and having only been on clear liquids since noon the day before, made me really hungry, crabby, and the recipient of a killer headache.  The anesthesiologist said that the morning of surgery I could have one Xanax with a tiny sip of water, thankfully!  So, in order to time the kick in of the Xanax with my arrival at the hospital at 9:00, I swallowed my little pill with the tiniest sip of water at about 8:00.  I felt like I was crossing myself from the inside of my body as I that little blessing in pill form went down my throat...."In the the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, I ask that you please bless me and my surgeon during this procedure.  Let me fall asleep and wake up with no problems.  Let there be no major complications.  Let me not be in any pain or nauseated or shaking with chills or crying or wake up too early...Amen."

My neighbor came over and wished me well.  I packed my bag.  Watched everyone drink their lovely coffee.  And sat quietly until it was time to go.

Wearing my new worry-doll headband (a gift from my folks from their recent Mexico trip), I left my phone at home, and got into the car...my husband driving and my mom in the back seat.  Raging headache in tow, I simply closed my eyes and allowed myself to just be a passenger.  Listening to my husband and my mom talk, I don't actually know what they said but it was exactly what I wanted to hear...someone else talking.  At some point my husband did make mention of driving down this road coming to this hospital for the birth of my daughter (almost exactly 11 years ago) and for the birth of my son (EXACTLY nine years ago to the day).  I haven't figured out how not to let that coincidence of dates bother me, but it doesn't.

I checked in, paid my co-payment, and they were ready to take me back.

The nurse showed me to a dressing room, told me to put on the gown with the opening in the back, and to put on the socks with the treads.  She said to take everything off, no hair clips, etc.  (I had already left all my jewelry at home.)  So, with a reluctant swipe, I removed my worry-doll headband and whispered to those little people to take care of me.  Once I was done changing, I was told to stand in a certain doorway to be greeted by the nurse who would take care of me.  And so I did.  I stood there like a kid being called to the Principal's office:  eyes down, biting lip, holding the bag of stuff behind my back as I tried to keep my gown closed, I would have twirled my hair except that my hands were full.  Finally a nurse introduced herself to me and said that she would be taking care of me and that her name was Pat.

She walked me to my bed, bed four, pulled the curtain around the bed and told me again that her name was Pat and that she'd be taking care of me.  I looked at her and said, "Take good care of me.  I'm really scared."  And then, I started to tear up.  She asked me a bunch of questions, confirmed my name, date of birth, allergies, weight, procedure, doctor's name, etc.  All I could do was breathe and look at the pattern of the leaves on the curtain that enclosed my space.  My head was still killing me and each breath made me more scared and more in pain, and each painful twinge made me more scared, and then I cried more, and crying made my head hurt, and that made me more scared... and on and on and on.  Then she had to start an IV on me.
And that made me more scared!
Since having to do a clear liquid diet from noon the day before and a colon cleanse and an enema and no liquids after midnight, I was dehydrated and she had a very hard time finding a vein to use.  She wanted to use my left hand because she said that the doctors prefer that the IV be on the hand and not in the forearm or elbow area.  She tied a tourniquet around my forearm and smacked around on my hand, telling me to do twenty fists.  Leaving the tourniquet on, she got another warm blanket for my arm and then examined my right hand.  My hand was starting to go numb and I had lost count of my twenty open and close fist pumps but the she decided to tie ANOTHER tourniquet to my upper forearm.  I was still doing my fist things and then she got up to get a smaller needle.  So, I announced that she had one shot at this.  I was not going to tolerate any misses and that she had one stick so make it a good one.  She gave me a numbing shot and then the IV was in.  Ta da!  I couldn't help but think of that old saying, "measure twice, cut once."  I didn't like having my hand strangled or spanked but I surely didn't want to have my vein blown out.

She invited my husband and my mom back to see me while we waited for various other folks to check in:  the surgeon, another nurse, the anesthesiologist...  At some point, Pat decided that I needed a shot of something to relax me but she had to wait until I spoke with someone else while I was still "with-it".  I guess I spoke to that person, but my new BFF, Pat, gave me a shot.  Whew!  I stared at the curtain pattern again and waited for some relief, nothing.  Still, I had a headache.  Still I cried.  My mom wiped my tears and petted my arm and that made me cry more.  Pat came by with another shot.  The litmus test of focus (the leaf pattern on the curtains) verified that I was still freaking out.  My husband said some nice things and joked around with the nurse and that made me cry.  Pat came with a third shot.  Curtain check...nope.  Shot number four came soon after and then I was no longer aware of anything.  I don't remember saying good bye to my husband or my mom but I do remember being wheeled into what I assume was the operating room.

Some more people introduced themselves to me.  I was moved from one bed to another.  A gas mask was placed over my mouth and nose and then the next thing I remember was being asked to move from the bed I was in to another bed. " Again?!" I thought.  Then, I asked was time it was and realized that I was out of surgery and in my own hospital room.  I did it.  =)

Twas the night before surgery...

Twas the night before surgery, when all through the house,
All the creatures were stirring, even the spouse.
The get well cards were hung in the living room with care,
In hopes that wellness soon would be there.

The daughter was studying and recently fed.
While visions of countries and capitols danced in her head.
And Nicholas in his spy gear, and I, blog in my lap,
Had just revved up my fingers for a entry to tap.

When down in my tummy there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the potty I flew like a flash,
Tore open the door and readied my ash.
Oh Lord...this is too much!  I can't keep this nonsense up.  So, I've consumed the "mag-citrate" and suffice it to say,  it is working.  I've been on clear liquids since noon and to wrap it all up and I have a date with Mr. Fleet.  And at some point I have to pack an overnight bag.


I am so totally looking forward to this surgery.  It is weird that I am having a hysterectomy on my son's birthday but I'm OK with it.  It's almost like I get to celebrate the wonder of my uterus as it comes to an end.


My uterus has given me two awesome kids!  I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!


But, it is time to go, you...uterus!  O-U-T out!

unnnn-mo-tiv-a-ted....

It's 7:30 pm and since I got home from school I haven't done much.  I made a fake and slightly icky (but all gone) pizza.  The crust was made from some Pillsbury crescent roll dough pieced together in a loaf pan with spaghetti sauce and mixed mozzarella and cheddar on top.  I baked it for 15 minutes.  My daughter thought that it was good but said that she would have liked all of the ingredient separately.  (The crescent roll dough was a little sweet but I wasn't about to show her that I thought so too.)

Then, we had some odd dessert.  I had a left over brownie cupcake from yesterday.  She had a blob of marshmallow fluff with two Hershey's chocolate squares and some pretzels.  So weird.

She worked on her homework while I looked at pictures of baby sloths.  She needed to be quizzed on verbs and pronouns so I read to her sentences from the websites as examples.  I don't actually know if all of her answers are correct, but she got a little review for her grammar test tomorrow.

Though sloths are slow (verb phrase), they more than make up (verb phrase) their speed with their personality. Sloths are  (helping verb) very affectionate (verb) pets. Cradling (action verb) one is (helping verb) almost like cradling (action) an infant. In fact, sloths particularly love to play (verb phrase) peek-a-boo, like babies! They love to hide (verb phrase) under blankets, seemingly saying(verb).... “Come find (verb phrase) me if you can.” And because sloths are slow, you wouldn’t have problem about them escaping (action verb) and ransacking (action verb) your closet like other exotic pets do. Sloths are great (verb phrase) around young children also; they may have (verb phrase) somewhat sharp claws, they don’t use (verb) it to claw (verb phrase) on people. And sloths love (verb) to be bathed (verb phrase) and blow dried (verb phrase); the animals are (helping verb) very clean (verb) despite being (verb) so hairy.cutehomepets.com

I love sloths and recently found a website called cuteoverload.com that has pictures of cute critters and from there I linked to a website with nothing but pictures of sloths.  They are so cute!  I reeeealllllly want one but they cost thousands of dollars and live for like 30 years.  So, for now I just look at them.  I am thinking of adding holding a sloth to my 45 under 45 list.

Which then brings me to that.  With my surgery date just three days away, I've been thinking that it is time to start reading some of the dreaded bed side table materials.  I want to be done with those books but I don't feel like reading them.  I've still got three years until I'm 45.  (:

I should probably start working on the sudoku and the crossword puzzles some more.  I think I'll take the crossword book with me to the hospital.

I think that once this surgery is over and I've recuperated and school is out, I'll really begin to tackle that list. I found some Segway tour literature and my husband learned that at the Air Force Base stand up paddle board rent for only $9.00 a day.  My boss recently posted to her Facebook that she went canopy cycling where you ride a bike that hangs from cables which are strung through the woods...that sounded like an awesomely fun thing to add to my list until she then posted that she got some sort of whopper bug bite that took her out of commission for a few days.  (So, I guess that is still a question.)

Wonderful Windy Evening

When I came home and got out of my car, I was instantly greeted by the smell of an incoming tide, salty sea air and an ocean like breeze coming from our lowly Old Hillsborough Bay.  The aroma brings on a natural high!  Some days when the tide is just right and the bay water is clear, the shabby ol' mucky water in front of our street looks just like the grass flats of the Bahamas.  And I live here!

I survey my kingdom.

There are white caps on the bay and their direction indicates the wind is coming from the northeast toward the southwest.  Despite the wind and waves, the water isn't churned up like its usual chocolate milk color...it's teal and aqua and royal blue, and...


It was red and yellow and green and brown
And scarlet and black and ochre and peach
And ruby and olive and violet and fawn
And lilac and gold and chocolate and mauve
And cream and crimson and silver and rose
And azure and lemon and russet and grey
And purple and white and pink and orange
And red and yellow and green and brown and
Scarlet and black and ochre and peach
And ruby and olive and violet and fawn
And lilac and gold and chocolate and mauve
And cream and crimson and silver and rose
And azure and lemon and russet and grey
And purple and white and pink and orange
And blue!


source: http://www.lyricsondemand.com/soundtracks/j/josephandtheamazingtechnicolordreamcoatlyrics/josephscoatlyrics.html


A loaded freighter in the distant shipping channel motors along with its white bridge, rust colored hull and containers stacked three high.  The space between our neighborhood's newly greened up oak trees keep my view of the open bay water framed and now the vessel is out of sight.  


A lovely spring rain with giant soaking drops has rinsed off all the pollen and then encouraged new growth.  The leaves and branches sway with the gusty winds.  The palmetto tree on the corner has spilled all of its berries, now there's just fronds and naked clusters of brown twigs where berries used to be.  The trunk, built for tropical force conditions, is tilting ever so slightly.


I look over my right shoulder to see my daughter mimicking me:  feet up on the pillar and tapping away on an electronic device.  Is it nature or nurture?  

Ooo an osprey just flew over... brown mottled feathers on his tummy.  And then I spy another osprey gliding above our dock, the breeze keeping him aloft with only minor wing adjustments.  


As I look out over Bayshore Blvd. I am just now aware of the cars driving by.  The sound of wind in the trees mutes the car engines.  Score one for Mother Nature.  Rock on Mama!


Then, a man with two labs, one black and one yellow, comes on to our street.  He is carrying what I assume is dog poop in a nearly transparent aqua tinted bag.  After completing the loop on his exit of our cul-de-sac, I see that he is using my neighbor's garbage can to toss his dog poo.  I actually think that I heard that using someone else's garbage can is "unlawful".  Oh well.  What do I care?


My daughter chimes in that the lab-walking-man is the owner of the new house a few down from us.  One day when there weren't any workers present, we toured ourselves in his home while it was under construction.  (Also unlawful).  Yin and yang.  I walk through your empty house and you use my neighbor's can for poo.  Seems perfectly balanced to me.


The sun will be down soon.  It's almost 8:00 now.  Three little wispy puffs of clouds hang in the sky and act as a canvas for the setting sun.  The canary yellow on top looks almost neon and then gracefully the colors begin fading to a purple grey on the underside of the cloud.


My neighbors are pulling into their driveway, they haven't been gone for long.  (I saw them leave as we went outside to see the kite surfer zip around earlier.)  I wonder where they went.  The mom has a styrofoam cup in her hand and as she gets out, goes around to the back seat to carry her sleepy daughter inside the garage and then into the house.  I bet they were at the Y...for basketball practice...she was wearing a jersey or a penny.


A lone pelican soars over our street.


The kids have swapped now.  The son needs company while he completes dilly dallies through his dreaded spelling contract.  He's complaining about how hard cursive handwriting is... so hard and that he can't even understand the words he's writing:  moose, wolves, cacti, oxen (it must be plural word week).  I caught him opening and closing the drawers and compartments of the lap desk - anything to avoid the task!  "What is crises?" he asks.  My response, "The plural for crisis."  (I guess.  I've never actually used crises myself.  If there is more than one crisis in my life, I'm checking out.)  His natural retort, "What's a crisis?"  I make up another slightly bogus answer, "A big mess of events."  


Oops.  It's too dark now to do any more spelling work.  I guess we have lost our "foci".