Showing 38 posts from December 2008
Not much to say other than my good wife is starting to feel what her foot really feels like (they numb you up pretty darn good the day of the surgery) and, while mobile, doesn't much feel like moving. And my stepson apparently doesn't have mono, though we can't be sure for a few more days. Nor does he have strep throat. He most likely has a virus. Which would make sense, because now his mother has one.
Meanwhile, I stay healthy. It's giving me flashbacks to when my stepchildren were much younger. Whenever illness entered the household, one of three things would happen:
1) * My wife would get sick.
* My kids would get sick.
* I would stay healthy and end up caring for all of them.
2) *My kids would get sick.
*My wife would get sick.
*I would stay healthy and end up caring for all of them.
3) *I would get sick, and heal quickly.
*My wife and kids would get sick.
*I would be healthy enough to care for all of them.
In all three cases I'd end up very tired and frustrated. I think my mom once told me "now you know what a mother feels like all the time."
Enough. I'm getting whiny. Lawd, I want this to be over...
My good wife whom I love dearly is doing better. She's still having some trouble moving around, and because life isn't already interesting enough, my stepson is now showing signs of mono. So he's going to the doctor this morning as soon as we can get an appointment, and if my wife thinks she's up to a few hours by herself, I'll go back to work at noon. If not, I won't.
I got an email from an old friend this morning. Her husband will need shoulder surgery soon, and she has foot surgery of her own scheduled for the end of the year. They're both the same age as me, 44.
Come to think of it, other friends my age have prostate problems, back problems, IBS, and several other maladies I won't mention here. It reminds me how blessed I am. Every once in awhile my back throws me some pain, but it always goes away--that's as bad as it's been for me, and I'm not exactly an athlete. All I can say is I walk a lot and (with the exception of the last week) I eat right.
I should be grateful. Instead I wonder why I'm spared. Makes you think...
Seeing it's been, what, sixteen days since the last entry on this blog, your humble Blind Dog owner figured it was time to let you know he and his family still live in beautiful Olathe, Kansas. Our "cancelled Christmas" has been the most laid-back ever and I must say I like it that way. Though I am irritated with everyone who bought us gifts anyway--even small ones--in spite of our telling them "we're not getting you anything; don't get us anything." Means I get to carry a guilt trip on my shoulders for the next year. Thanks a LOT, "friends." ;-)
This is also our first Christmas without DiDi and, seeing the blog is dedicated to her sublimely goofy memory, here's not one but several from Christmases past: Treat time. We're not doing it this year, but in years past my good wife and good sister-in-law would trade off as to what house would host Thanksgiving and Christmas each year, and we'd have the turkey and for Christmas a ham and all the trimmings. And DiDi, of course, would get the ham bone. And she would promptly take it downstairs and bury it. This is just a dog being a dog.
But we noticed later she did that with every treat we gave her. She did it with milk bones. She did it with giblets. She did it with chew toys. Every single one, she would take into her mouth, then go straight downstairs, presumably to bury it. We have no idea where she's buried it all. We still haven't found the stash. One day some gopher is going to plow into it by accident and trigger a chain reaction, and it'll all come spewing forth from the ground, disrupting the stability of its foundation, and our house will collapse. But until then, it's somewhere beneath the sod, making worms very happy.
And that's all I've got, except for the very cool Killers video posted below. You're most welcome to post holiday greetings in the comment section. In fact, I'd love it if you did. That would be a VERY cool Christmas present. A Blessed Christmas to you all. Enjoy.
This is also our first Christmas without DiDi and, seeing the blog is dedicated to her sublimely goofy memory, here's not one but several from Christmases past: Treat time. We're not doing it this year, but in years past my good wife and good sister-in-law would trade off as to what house would host Thanksgiving and Christmas each year, and we'd have the turkey and for Christmas a ham and all the trimmings. And DiDi, of course, would get the ham bone. And she would promptly take it downstairs and bury it. This is just a dog being a dog.
But we noticed later she did that with every treat we gave her. She did it with milk bones. She did it with giblets. She did it with chew toys. Every single one, she would take into her mouth, then go straight downstairs, presumably to bury it. We have no idea where she's buried it all. We still haven't found the stash. One day some gopher is going to plow into it by accident and trigger a chain reaction, and it'll all come spewing forth from the ground, disrupting the stability of its foundation, and our house will collapse. But until then, it's somewhere beneath the sod, making worms very happy.
And that's all I've got, except for the very cool Killers video posted below. You're most welcome to post holiday greetings in the comment section. In fact, I'd love it if you did. That would be a VERY cool Christmas present. A Blessed Christmas to you all. Enjoy.
Guess this is the latest bunionectomy update under a different name: I took my good wife, whom I love dearly, to get the sutures taken out of her foot. There, we both learned that the good doctor who performed the surgery would prefer she stay off of it another month. Given that she's out of vacation time and wants to go back to work next week in the worst possible way, and that the short-term disability she's been paying premiums for has yet to send us a dime, and we're getting dangerously close to having to go into deficit spending mode, we both let him know this was just not acceptable.
So, he set my sweetie up with a Star Wars-style kind of booth that lets her walk around a little more than the blue orthopedic sandal she's been suffering the past couple of weeks. There's a couple of air pockets on it you can inflate with a special squeegie that actually makes it quite comfortable. With this boot, my sweetie can go back to work next week on schedule.
Nevertheless, she's out of vacation time, which means picking up the family appointments she normally covers will fall on me for awhile. And that, really, is all I have tonight. Funny how even after counting my blessings I still feel weird about life sometimes. There's a lot going on with my family I'm not about to write about here, and it's challenging to say the least, but it is not the worst it could be. Far from it. God remains merciful and that's the important thing. Oremus!
Your humble Blind Dog Blogger doesn't like to brag on himself, but today I can't help it: two kids in my stepson's Scout troop have asked me to emcee their Eagle Court of Honor. They've sent me a script, which I'm told they welcome me to embellish, but I won't have to very much. It's a most well-written script.
What startles and humbles me about it is, I'm not the most involved adult leader in this Troop. Far from it. I wasn't a Scout myself, and have never been an outdoorsman. A Tenderfoot could humiliate me with his knowledge of how to survive in the woods. I don't camp with the Troop much, save for summer camp at Bartle. I'm Secretary of the Adult Committee because it's the only thing I feel somewhat competent doing. In short, I'm not the most influential guy in these kids lives... yet they want me to do this. Wow!
I guess the greater point of this is, if you have a son in Scouts, don't just let it be "his thing--" get involved with it, especially if he's still elementary school age. Go camping. It won't kill you, you might just learn something, and you'll discover some real salt-of-the-earth people are leading his troop. Not perfect people, but good ones. It is well worth your time.
