Archive for March, 2008

Just don’t yell at me.  It had to be done.  It’s been in the upper 80’s here for most of the last 2 weeks and it isn’t going to get much cooler.  Poor Pascal was so hot that he lay around panting most of the time.  So I did this… 


He sho do look like a poodle now!

I’ve heard nothing but bitching ever since.  Every time someone sees him they complain about it.  Will and Dave shave their heads in the summer to keep cool, but they keep complaining, “He doesn’t even look like our dog anymore! (did you catch the OUR there? where were they when he was a baby sleeping on my stomach for 18 hours a day?)”  Pas has been way friskier since I clipped him all the way down (he should be…I’m pretty sure there’s another dog somewhere in that 9inch ball of fur I took off him).  Though, in the future I will leave his face alone.  He looks better with a fuzzy beard.    

Alas, dear internet, this may be my last post for a while (unless I feel the need to hide out from my inlaws).  We leave tomorrow afternoon, and I haven’t even had time to tell you all about today’s visit with Sexy Doctor (it was awesome…I’m glad his staff doesn’t have to keep secrets from people like ‘you’re dying in 2 weeks’ because they are NOT big on subtlety…they kept sneaking peeks at us…problem is I don’t know if they were trying to see me or Tina because Tina tried to add Sexy Doctor to her myspace…but he’s making sure I have time to find out by demanding to see Mom every month for the next few months…he wasn’t supposed to see her today…it was supposed to be his PA, but he made a point to stand around and chat for a while…better believe I was wearing the Industrial Cotton good booty jeans) nor did I get to tell you about my $1000 car repair (our mechanic Single Charles, who Tina’s all about, lent us a van to get home until tomorrow because our brake line split wide open in addition to the $1k car repair…if we hadn’t had Mom with us, he was offering to drive us home and pick us up in the morning….cute available men driving you around, that’s what I call service…poor Tina, it’s a golden opportunity that may never come again…darn).  Oh well, I promise to come back with pics and tales from the darkside!  lol  See ya’ll soon!

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Unfortunately, we’ve had to commit murder here on the hill.   

Years ago, when I was a child of 10, my parents first brought us here, and I remember my mother looking at these four small Sweet Gum trees in a square and saying that we’d have a treehouse there.  Well, we never got around to getting our treehouse, but I loved them all the same.  I loved them more after the Ghetto Trailer (GT) was moved in beside them because they formed a natural foyer (something the GT, like most trailers, lacks…you just walk right into the kitchen).  In the Spring, the buds would pop out and in the Summer they were a welcoming shade.  I loved them.   

But a while back, one of them came down, and it did so in a pretty spectacular fashion.  A windy storm was blowing up, and I opened the front door to walk outside (I love walking out in a blustery storm).  Just as I started to step out and head toward a rose bush that had come unstaked, the tree dropped in front of my very eyes.  I almost peed my pants.  Not only did it fall, but it fell in the very spot where I was about to walk narrowly missing an electrical line.  It was awesome in the sense that my knees literally got weak and I realized I was mortal sort of way!  Ever since, I’ve known that the other three were on borrowed time.  Every new storm meant that they were getting closer to coming down and that the most likely direction would be through the middle of the GT and onto my bed.  Several VERY large, main branches had come out of the top of each of them, and finally, I bit the bullet and called in our tree guy.   

It all happened so fast.  I didn’t even get a chance to explain to them (yeah, all these years I was worried about being the crazy dog lady…turns out I was already the crazy tree lady).  The tree guy called and asked if he gave me a good deal could he go ahead and take them down when he came instead of just giving me an estimate.  I agreed.  It broke my heart, but I agreed.   

He did a pretty great job.  He fell two perfectly.  The last one decided to take a little revenge and took out our building.  Not a big deal considering that building was started about this time last year and still didn’t have a roof (it wouldn’t have had sides if I hadn’t started putting them up myself…that makes the menfolk feel guilty and they take over all the while telling me how I was screwing it up…yeah…right).   

The menfolk have started the removal already (otherwise we couldn’t get into the GT), and Pascal helped out by rolling in saw dust.  Of course they quit once I could get inside and now, someday soon, I’ll be outside trying to move giant logs in an effort to trick them into finishing the job. 


  That’s Davis in the green and Will in the blue and M.’s back there too. 


 Note to self: Buy Dave an underwire…  

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This one is a total teaser for tomorrow’s post….AND because it’s been way too long since Pas was posted for his adoring fans!  lol

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What are the benefits of Mom being high for almost 2 weeks?  Bwahaha!  Mom let me cut her hair.  I’ve been trying to get her to let me cut it for months.  And before someone wonders if I’m being really cruel to her…we have tried to get her to go get a professional to do it, but she only wants Ethel at the Fantastic Sam’s to do it and we just haven’t had the time to get her out there (We only go to the “big town” of Alexandria once a month to take M. to drill and it tends to fall at a time when either Mom won’t go or the shop is closed.).  So when she was in the hospital and I was pulling knots out of her hair (or as she put it ‘you’re a pullin’ me bald headed!’) I told her the minute I got her home I was cutting it.  She agreed (ahhh…morphine drips…if only I could arrange them for her without the hospital visit…like when she starts randomly spouting Sue Johanson’s sex tips…although I did learn how to make my own nipple clamps).  Part way through she started whining in a high pitch and motioning at her hair laying on the table beside her.  Apparently, she had been planning to send it to Locks of Love, but she didn’t tell me that and I didn’t think of it myself.  She kept saying, “That would make wigs for 2 little kids.”  I was sorry and she was right.   

But that hits upon the main problem she and I have had these last few weeks.  She tells me to do something without filling me in on her entire plan.  ‘Move my arm’ seems to mean ‘Move my arm counter clockwise at a 112 degree elevation opposite my clavicle.’  It’s not that she has trouble letting you know what she wants.  It’s that she leaves out details that are obvious only to her.  Hence, her hair started out as a simple bob with bangs and fringe around her face.   


Then she kept saying, “I want it 3 inches long all over.”  That wasn’t going to happen.  Mostly because MY plan was to cut her hair with M.’s hair clippers almost like Bob’s Big Boy (she’s got the chubby cheeks, the same coloring, and overalls are always appropriate…if you have cataracts lol).  That’s pretty much what Ethel does to it, and Mom likes it just fine especially after Ethel curls the top and fluffs it up into a classic old lady style.  She wouldn’t let me use the clippers, and a straight bob or bangs are really my only go-to’s when it comes to cutting hair with scissors.  I wasn’t about to cut her hair too short because then if she hated it not even Ethel could fix it.   

So I began to experiment, and I finally got even for the last haircut she gave me.  I was 15 and had managed to avoid her makeovers for several years when someone told her she could layer long hair by pulling it up into a ponytail and cutting it.  Yeah…not so much.  Maybe there’s another trick to it, but it didn’t work when I was 15 and it didn’t work on Mom yesterday (I looked like I had my hair cut by a fellow prisoner in a Lifetime movie).  Instead, I started just randomly chopping up the back of her hair, and danged if it didn’t turn out almost not horrible.  Who knew???  I’m glad no one else was around because I felt like Johnny Depp in Edward Scissorhands.  Tina came home and when I asked her what she thought, she whispered, “It’s not bad.”  You don’t whisper “not bad” because that’s a success in my book!   


And since she was still high, I took advantage and put lime green sparkle eyeshadow and rose lip gloss on her.  😀


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Rebecca Romijn has Pascal’s twin!  Don’t worry, I’m sure she got the evil twin…  lol  Her’s is a golden doodle.  Makes me wonder if Pas is full poodle.  I guess unless I do a DNA test, I’ll never know.

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Thank heaven!   

Poor Mom broke her proximal humerus in three places which left it looking like a butterfly according to both of her orthopedic surgeons.  The cure?  A steel rod nailed through an opening in her shoulder all the way through the separated bones straight down to the elbow.  Yes, it is as horrifying as it sounds.  What was worse was that because of her diabetes she has shallow and sly veins that continually blew out.  Between late Tuesday night and Sunday evening, she had 7 different I.V.’s (2 infiltrated…one with a blood transfusion and one of saline) leaving her ill-fated good arm looking like it had been crushed or soaked in blackberry juice.  That doesn’t include about 3 rounds each day of blood work.  She spent her entire stay on Demerol and a post-surgery Morphine drip.  I spent the entire time worrying and trying to sleep on a rock-hard reclining chair/bed (the Marquis de Sade couldn’t have designed it better…I failed for the most part and got about 3hrs a night at best…I have trouble sleeping at the best of times and this didn’t help much less the hourly parade of medicos doing their medical stuff).   

Broken Arm

The worst part for me was the inevitable questions.  Mom has had half a dozen strokes.  There are times when she forgets that Will is 24 and not a 3yr old.  Any time she goes to the hospital, we get a series of questions and the LOOK…the one that silently wonders if we’re beating her with a rubber chicken for kicks.  This time (the first trip to the ER in 8 years!), she had a spiral fracture of her upper arm.  Anyone who has watched Law & Order or CSI knows that particular fracture is linked to abuse.  She was asked no less than 13 times within about 4 hours what happened.  Luckily, she was incredibly lucid.  I thought for sure I’d have to bring in the broken bathroom safety bar to prove that was how she fell.  Thank the gods, she wasn’t in one of her moods where she tells everyone how we don’t care about her at all (anyone out there who has an elderly parent with a history of strokes or dementia has probably heard this one…they can be very much like unhappy 9 yr olds which means if you didn’t get me candy 2 seconds before I asked for it, you hate me).  She can be a real bear when it comes to getting her way, and she knows that I can be a soft touch.  Luckily, she only threw one fit but it was a BIGGY.  The night after her surgery, she decided she wanted out of bed no matter what and tried to pull out her I.V. in the process during a blood transfusion.  It was so bad that I actually had to get the nurse, and she didn’t even calm down for him.  The minute he turned his back she tried it again and nearly broke her foot in the process (mind you, this guy kept shorting her pain meds…she slept for 3.5 hrs straight when given the meds by anyone else, but when he gave them she was out for maybe 2 if I was lucky…I hope he had fun with them because she certainly made him pay for it that night).  I didn’t get anymore looks after that though!  I was exhausted and Tina tried to get me to go home earlier that day because she could tell I was near a nervous breakdown.  I had to stay though.  Tina’s working full time now, and it’s too much for her to spend nights at the hospital and days working.  So it was down to me.  I wish I could say it got easier after that, but life’s a process. 

The Good Arm

If there were a bright side (and I’m not sure there was), it’s that she had a fabu surgeon who couldn’t take his eyes off me (I swear I forgot my wedding ring in the rush to the ER…it was entirely innocent…and I only chatted him up to foist him onto Tina…but Tina’s not great at the small talk even when I leave her openings the size of Texas…men are so easily amused…I don’t get why she has such a problem talking to them…dangle a little catnip and they’re yours for life).  Mmmm…the damage I could do to him.  Tina found his Myspace page and there’s a song about big butts on women.  I’m not sure whether to be flattered or offended.  Heck, who are we kidding?  I’m up for a cuddly teddy-bear of a well-to-do doctor checking me out and I don’t care if it’s because I have just the type of goiter he fantasizes about!  Either I got married too soon or Mom broke her arm too late (Mom giggled when I said that…did I mention that she’s been high for a week straight?) 

I hope some of this is making sense, ya’ll.  I’m still a bit exhausted.  Now that we’re home, I’m taking care of Mom during the day, starting a new class (thankfully, I had the week off during this), getting our houses ready for relatives to visit next week, and getting things together for our train trip to Phoenix the week after that.   

Did I mention that I missed you?  I did ya know.  Surely there are baby pictures, craziness, and spats that I’ve missed. 

But for now I’m going to cuddle with Pascal.  The lil fella hasn’t left my shadow since I got home.  I can’t blame him I was in serious puppy withdrawl too.  We should seek professional help really.  Talk to ya’ll later.    

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