Welcome to my wonderful, terrible, soap opera sit-com world.
Wednesday, June 30, 2004
GMAIL FOR TROOPS
From Wil Wheaton and my friend at Twilight Invasion, please take a moment to do this.
If you have a GMail invite or two just burning a hole in your pocket, please consider donating them to GMail For Troops.
The 1 gig storage limit, plus the fact that it is easily accessible, is PERFECT for the men and women of this country's fine military who are stationed abroad, so they can receive pictures, short videos, audio files, etc., from their families at home.
In addition, you can put yourself in the hopper to get a Serviceman/woman as a penpal.
Go now, even if it's only one invite... they all make a difference. Thanks muchly.
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Last night, we went to the Bank One Ballpark to watch the Diamondbacks play the Padres. The Diamondbacks lost. Randy Johnson won.
We got to be there to see Randy's 4,000th strikeout. That's some major baseball history, right there, I tell you what. This puts The Big Unit in a very elite class, with Nolan Ryan (5,714), Roger Clemens (4,200) and Steve Carlton (4,136). So only four MLB pitchers have ever been able to do that. And we were there, which was very cool.
Another record which was set last night is, the Diamondbacks lost a franchise-record 11th game. In a row. And we were there, which kind of sucked.
But the coolness of the strikeout overshadowed the suckness of the loss. We also had a real nice party for our outgoing CEO, and the luxury suite was quite nice.
And after we went to bed, my brain started racing. I have GOT to stop having these freaky dreams! Thunderstorms! Helicopter crashes! Fighting, screaming kids who need me to spank them! My grandmother, an older lady from my office, my husband... how they all go together I can't rightly tell you. I just know I was there, and they were there, and some doohickey of a plane-thing was there but it didn't need a runway, but it wasn't like the british fighter jet, it had wings that popped out and it just kind of launched itself. Into the thunderstorm. Yup.
So. Blog*spot is still having a periodic fuckup with the blog. If you are able to see it, that makes me quite happy. If you aren't able to see it, join the club.
I wish my ears would stop crackling.
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Tuesday, June 29, 2004
I'M A BITCH, I'M A LOVER
Ugh.
Seeking: Tech Girls, Geek Chicks, and Network Ops Cuties...
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Seeking qualified tech girls for specialized phone hostess positions. Requirements:
- You must be over 18.
- You can be described as a "Tech Girl", "Geek Chick" or "Network Ops Cutie".
- You need a pleasant speaking voice and able to talk "tech".
- Calls can become sensual so you need to be ok with that.
- A fully clothed photo for our web site, although exhibitionists are preferred.
- Be willing to take calls from those who find your certifications very sexy.
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Ew. Can I just say it? Ew? EW EW EW EW EW. Nerd Pr0n.
Can I just talk Ethernet and WindowsXP and TCP/IP with my husband instead?
via Melissa
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Tonight is gonna be superfun!
After work, my whole office plus a bunch of our clients are going to Bank One Ballpark to watch the Diamondbacks play the Padres.
In a suite.
With food and bevvies and the like.
In a suite.
For free.
In a suite.
Randy Johnson is pitching.
We'll be in a suite.
Wahoo! Things like this can completely make my week. I'm excited to get out of the house with the hubby, I'm excited to be doing something fun, heck... I'm just excited all-around.
The ceiling fan repair guy is scheduled for Friday morning between 7am and 8am, which will also be a good thing. One less thing I need S. to fix so we can sell the house. I also have my follow-up doctor's appointment on Friday and we got Cody's (the dog's) prescriptions taken care of. Again. I'm crossing things off my list right and left.
Heeeeeee! It makes me absolutely giddy to talk about things like selling the house, getting ready for our PCS, going to the baseball game... it's nice to have things turning around for us.
Talked to my dad last night, he seems to be doing pretty well too. He wants to go to Mexico as soon as humanly possible to get the work on his house started up again, and we're behind him in that effort. I think Mexico is a good place for him as long as he stays healthy.
And S. and I are already talking about planning a yearly trip to Las Vegas, possibly around our anniversary-time, because we were reminiscing about what a great time we had.
Well, all I can do today is gush about how good things feel, apparently. At least on this end, it's a nice change.
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Tweaked a couple little things. Lord knows that's all I can do, just the little things. As it is, I made a ton of changes and Blogger fucking ATE THEM.
Fucktards.
And a lot of blog*spot blogs haven't been serving, for some reason.
Fucktards.
So now I'm going to go to bed.
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Monday, June 28, 2004
TELL ME, WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO ABOUT IT?
I had jury duty today.
Well, I KINDA had Jury Duty today. Yes, Rosie Posie did her civic duty. I made myself available for the Jury Duty, and it all worked out. Meaning, I did not get selected. I didn’t even have to go to the Court.
Friday, I called to see if I’d been picked, and they said I had to call back at 11am today to see if they’d need me in the afternoon. When I called at 11am, they told me I was released.
Amen, brutha.
This makes three times I’ve been called for Jury Duty and three times I haven’t been selected. Once I was in the jury box getting grilled by lawyers (drug trial) but they didn’t want me.
So in other news, my dad is out of the hospital and seems to be doing fairly well under the circumstances. He’s getting around okay and is taking care of himself. He’ll be moving from his 2nd floor condo into a one-story ranch home this week, because he has a real hard time with stairs. But he’s not drinking, and keeps telling people he can’t. I’m not sure if that’s so he can hear himself say it, or what, but whatever works at this point. I wish my dad had a stronger spiritual foundation in his life – I think a program like AA could really help him. But he refuses to “go there,” because my mom got sober with AA. Baggage.
S. is working on his Top Secret Clearance paperwork and we’ll be turning that in tomorrow or Wednesday. Right after that, we should have our PCS (Permanent Change of Station) information for Tinker AFB. I’m already scoping out the high-speed internet situation. It’s a sorry-ass sight at Luke AFB, where they only have dial-up and if you’re lucky, DSL through the local phone company. I’ve been spoiled rotten with my cable internet connection and just can’t imagine going backwards. So I figure I better prepare myself for the possibility.
We’re already talking about what furniture we’re going to sell or donate to Goodwill and getting back to even MORE simplifying of the life. We have a prospective buyer for some of the furniture, as we’ll be getting rid of three couches, a bedroom set including queen mattress, box spring and frame, at least one computer desk, a queen size pier wall, lots and lots of crap. Now I’m just praying everything goes smoothly with the sale of the house, and our ship has definitely come in.
My work is being really understanding about the situation and I’m very pleased to find out they aren’t going to cut me loose early. So the only thing that’s an “if” now is how long it will take to close on the house. Hopefully the buyer will schedule an appraisal very soon and we will have a really smooth transaction. Fingers crossed, y’all!
I’m starting to get excited about the move. It’s not something I ever imagined I’d be excited about. I’ve lived here for 22 years, and I’m Ms. Stability. I avoid change. I know that growth comes from change, but I still avoid it. I joke that if I had my way, I’d have my job for the rest of my life and never own another house, ever. In my first marriage, I absolutely REFUSED to move out of Arizona for anyone or anything, for any reason. That’s probably why the MINUTE our divorce was final, my ex husband moved to Las Vegas and never looked back. He hated Phoenix, I think. He didn’t feel like he had anything here.
So now, except for my job (which can’t be my life and I can always find another job) and my dear friends (who will be my friends no matter where I live, as witnessed by my friends who are scattered around the country), I am not tied here. My husband is my life. Our forthcoming family, is my life. And if moving to Oklahoma is our first great adventure together and the way to start our family, then that’s what I’m going to do, and I’m going to make the most out of it. Just for everyone’s edification, we’re talking about trying to get pregnant some time after the first of the year. And I am overjoyed.
Things are just starting to go awesomely. Awesomely? Yeah, I guess that’s the word I’ll use today. Awesomely. Hopefully the good news will just keep coming. Lord knows we deserve it.
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Saturday, June 26, 2004
TRULY THE MOST IMPORTANT MOVIE OF THE YEAR
We just got back from seeing Fahrenheit 9/11. And all I can say is... wow.
I know, I know. Blah blah blah, Michael Moore blah blah liberal blah blah propaganda blah blah editing blah blah blah.
Ugh.
This movie is filled with cold, hard facts. This movie is filled with actual footage of the things the administration doesn't want you to see about the war. This movie is filled with emotion, stories of true Americans and American heroes, and the nepotism and back-scratching that's true in the "elite" ranks of society in this country.
This film is something EVERYONE should see. I don't care if you're conservative, or liberal. I don't care if you're a Democrat, or a Republican.
I live in Scottsdale, Arizona. Scottsdale, the most white-bread, politically conservative, hoity-toity place in the entire state. And we showed up a half an hour early and the line was already forming (it sold out two performances last night). Who was in line?
Old people, young people, Gen-X'ers, Gen-Y'ers, longhairs, shorthairs, military (us), ANCIENT Senior Citizens, people my mom's age... you name it, we had it. I was actually VERY surprised to see the number of senior citizens in line for both the 2pm and the 5pm showings.
And all of these people, after seeing the movie, applauded. When was the last time you applauded - or anyone applauded - at the end of a movie?
And let's not forget, this wasn't a made-up CGI special effects fiasco, this is a documentary film.
Everyone should see this film. I know it sounds cliche', but I laughed, I cried, I squeezed my husband's hand, I cringed in horror and I bursted with pride at the efforts of many American heroes who are speaking out against the corruption behind this administration and the meaningless war being fought by the brave men and women of this country's military.
Have you seen it? What did you think of it? I truly hope everyone was as touched as we were. And we voted for George W. Bush in the year 2000, and we danced a happy dance when the election "results" were released, and I had high hopes for this country at that time. I'm not your standard bleeding-heart liberal. No one in this red-blooded American Military family is.
I have linked both the movie website and a link to the page that will tell you where it's showing in your area. You owe it to yourself, your conscience, and the future of this country to see the movie.
And -- as I said over at Joelle's place, anyone who chooses to criticize this movie without seeing it can blow it right out their ass. If you don't vote, don't bitch. If you haven't tasted it, you can't say you don't like it. And if you haven't seen it, shut the hell up.
That is all.
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Hubby deleted his blog. Just sick of all the bullshit. That and, I feel partially responsible because he wanted his blog to be all about how he felt, and lately he's wanted to defend me. And I kept asking him not to feed the fire. So he'd type and type and type and then end up deleting it later, in an effort to spare me any collateral grief.
So if you read this, honey, I'm sorry if I put you in that position. I hope you're able to vent in the ways that are most productive for you.
I love you.
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I got a fabulous review today.
Let me say that again. I got a FABULOUS job review today! Go Shorty, it's your birthday.
My boss and I sat for an hour and a half, basically talking about how completely and fantastically awesome I am.
If I believed that, I'd probably be able to sell ice to an eskimo. But the fact remains, I do a good job, and my boss isn't afraid to tell me so. I'm really, REALLY happy about that. I take a lot of pride in my job and I'd like to think that I put as much into it as I can.
It's amazingly rewarding to have a career. Someday, my career will be raising children and taking care of my family. But for now, it's a real career. And knowing that I do a good enough job, at my job, that I make a difference there, and that they appreciate me, well - it's truly an amazing feeling.
We also talked about the impending orders. My boss cried when I told her we are probably going to move to Oklahoma. But she told me I'll have a job there for as long as I'm able to work there. She said something about making me work up until my last day and taking me to the airport herself after 5pm and putting me on a plane. Heh.
So. Things are all good.
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Friday, June 25, 2004
THESE BOOTS WERE MADE FOR WALKIN
Let’s talk about shoes, shall we?
Anyone who knows me, knows I am definitely a comfy-shoe type of person. I wear sneakers and “sensible shoes.” I rarely wear high heels, and when I do they have big chunky heels in the back (I prefer the added stability). I’m not a strappy sexy clingyopen-toed silver buckles stiletto type of girl.
As a matter of fact, if I can find a pair of “sensible” work shoes that I like, I will typically buy three pairs: black, brown, and navy blue. This means I can have a pair of sensible shoes to go with just about any outfit I’d choose to wear to work.
My boss, for example, is a petite little thing, and is quite accustomed to wearing high heeled shoes. I’ve rarely seen her in anything without a decent heel in it, because she likes the tallness. She is one of those women who is used to the high heels and could walk a mile in them if needed. But her high heeled shoes are sensible, as sensible as high heels can be. Stable structure, wide-ish heels. I have, for example, never heard her say, “I broke my heel.”
Younger Gal in my office has a tendency to wear shoes that I don’t feel are appropriate for the workplace. Sexy, strappy sandals with open toes and four inch heels. Black pumps with ankle cuffs and silver buckles. She’s a nice girl, I actually like her very much. But she has this strange tendency to wear these gigantic hooker heels, none of which actually “go” with her good-girl work outfits, and I’ve just never had the guts to ask her why. Even when she wears slacks, rather than them draping attractively over her high heels, they instead turn into puddle jumpers or waders, hoisted around her ankles to show off the shoes. I can’t comprehend why anyone would wear heels like that for an all-day endeavor… they look like they would be much more at home in a trendy dance club or something.
Then that leads me to Trendy Girl in my office. In the year I’ve been here she’s borrowed my Crazy Glue twice to fix random heel breakage, and she prefers shoes of the expensive, pop culture variety. So today I’m walking behind her down the hallway in my flat, sensible shoes, and I see her up ahead of me. In the time it takes me to look down, see her thin-strap sandals with pointy stiletto heels, and think to myself, “Ugh, more trendy shoes,” she tripped. Her ankle wobbled on her heel right in front of me and she almost fell over.
“Jeez, here I go, falling flat on my face,” she said. I just chuckled to myself as I plodded my way down the hall in my soft, flat, Aerosole, sensible work shoes.
I mean, how sexy can you be if you’re falling on your ass? Honestly.
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There's this guy who works with me. Actually he works with me and my good friend M. And he is possibly the most annoying man on the planet.
I think I've written about him before. But, he's been more annoying than normal, lately. Mainly because he's been working indirectly with me on a couple of projects, and he feels it necessary to wander by my desk a minimum of three times a day, chanting my name in his own personal Tourette's, and often standing still and just staring at me.
Yesterday, he actually stood next to me, and stared at me, while I was in a meeting with another staffer in my office, discussing something that had NOTHING to do with him.
Annoying Guy: Rooooooosssse.
Me: *silence*
AG: So. Hey. When (Big Important Guy) is out of the office, then, are you going to handle that?
Me: Yeah.
AG: So that'll be you, then.
Me: Yeah.
AG: You're gonna take care of that. Okay.
Me: Yeah.
AG: Uh huh. (nods his head like a nerdy bobblehead doll)
Me: *silence*
AG: *mentally-challenged stare*
AURGH. Can SOMEONE please rig something to keep him from coming up the elevator in the morning? Please? Please? Pretty please?
We had a "shower" for a gal in my office yesterday who is adopting a little girl from China. She leaves today for China. We all got so busy in the afternoon we never got to cut the cake that was purchased for her, for this purpose. I was told he paced around asking people about the cake. When are we going to eat the cake? Do you think we'll ever have cake? How about that cake? What kind of cake is it? Do you want cake? Has she had cake? Are we going to eat cake? Honest to God/dess, at 5:15 last night he led a parade of people into the kitchen. As they came past me, he said, quietly, "Cake." And pointed towards the kitchen. I think Rain Man actually got to eat his cake, which is amazing, but we all got a chuckle out of it.
Annoying people. Lordy. I'm so glad I have an enclave of non-annoying folks in my office, or I might have to stick my foot right up his ass.
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In other news, maybe tonight we will go see Farenheit 9/11. I desperately want to see this film, and if early indications are anything, so do a lot of people in this country. My only hope is it opens the eyes of some closed-minded conservative sheep. There's no point in living in a box, blindfolded, with blinders on, in an election year. I will give a full report should I get to see it tonight or this weekend.
Kerry in '04.
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Wednesday, June 23, 2004
THE SECRET OF LIFE IS A GOOD CUP OF COFFEE
I know I said maybe I'd write here some more about the deeper things re: the trip, but since I haven't had a chance to talk to S. about those things I suppose I'd rather just wait. In the meantime...
Things I am thankful for:
- My dad's recovery.
- I have a great job.
- I love my boss.
- My boss loves me.
- I anticipate getting a great review this week, and hopefully a raise and bonus soon.
- I have an amazing husband.
- He takes care of me when I need him to.
- I'm getting a better relationship with my family through all this struggle.
- My husband's family also cares for me.
- My house is going to be sold.
- We'll have a place to live in Oklahoma.
- The CEO where I work has contacts in Oklahoma and is going to help me find a job.
- He will also write me a letter of reference.
- My faith helps keep me strong.
- I've made some great friends on this blog.
- I have wonderful friends in real life.
- If you can get past the stress, things are going pretty well.
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Well well, looks like the childrens were busy while I was gone. Those IPs got banned and an abuse letter got sent to them. I guess that's about all one can do.
My trip was productive and sad all at the same time. One does not want to spend Father's Day in the hospital with your dad wondering if he's going to be okay, but that's pretty much how we did.
To make an even longer story (and one I don't really want to go into right now as I'm still recovering and haven't even told every little detail to my husband yet) quite short, my sister showed up in Anchorage about five hours ahead of me and went to the hospital to see my dad before picking me up... after her being there about 30 minutes he snapped RIGHT out of it and became about 90% lucid and coherent.
By the time he saw me Saturday morning he was 90%-95% coherent, knowing where he was and most of why he was there, but not completely understanding the fact that he had to stay in the hospital.
Once he "came to," he was as full of piss and vinegar as always. But. Your thoughts and prayers did wonders coupled with him seeing his kids, and he's nearly totally coherent now and will be in the hospital for another two weeks minimum going through various kinds of rehab.
We were in the hospital for about 14-16 hours a day for three days. By the time I got home yesterday I had been "up" for 25 hours and had slept for about two of those. I'm still quite tired and will probably spend some time tonight talking with the husband about all the things I haven't talked to him about yet. I'm very, VERY emotional about a lot of this and I'm coming to terms with some very real things.
So hopefully I will fill in the gaps later on. Thanks for all your thoughts and prayers. Thanks for the emails that met me when I got home. Thank you for everything.
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Friday, June 18, 2004
SEEMS TO ME THAT "MAYBE" PRETTY MUCH ALWAYS MEANS, "NO."
MP3 player full of music.
Bag almost packed.
Showered and cleaned.
I will leave work at 3pm today.
S. will take me to the airport.
I will get on a plane.
I will go to Anchorage.
I will see about getting my dad put in a home, since the hospital has told us that's our only option.
I will hope he doesn't motherfuck me to my face.
I am trying to have goodness and kindness in my heart.
So long story short is, I'm outta here until Tuesday afternoon at the earliest, but probably Wednesday morning for the blog. Thank you for all your wellwishes, emails, et al, and thanks for bothering to give a crap about what's going on over here in soap opera land.
See you all in a few days.
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Thursday, June 17, 2004
HOW DO YOU TALK TO AN ANGEL?
Because I have one.
Good things happen to good people, ladies and gentlemen. My ship, at least in part, is finally coming in. And I am thrilled.
I've mentioned that I own a house. I've also mentioned that we are moving to Oklahoma this summer, probably towards the end of August.
MOVE + HOUSE = HEADACHE.
We've been debating how and when to get the house on the market, what a pain it would be to find a realtor, how shitty it would feel to cut a realtor a check for thousands of dollars in commissions... bah.
That is, until tonight.
One of my dad's very-long-term ex GF's, whom I practically called my stepmom in the many years they were together, called to let me know that she is selling her son (who is S.'s age) the house that she owns two blocks over.
And that since she does want to own a house here, so she can come back to Arizona and eventually retire, she would like to buy our house.
She has offered me $5,000 more than I thought I could get for it, but she thinks it is in actuality worth quite a bit more than what she's offered us. She's going to fix it up a little and use it as a rental until she can come back and retire. Our little cul-de-sac is a close-knit group of friends, and this angel of a lady is already friends with everyone... because she owned this house once. And she is thrilled at the prospect of owning it again. She knows it inside and out.
So she's having an appraisal scheduled some time after I get back from Alaska and she's going to start the paperwork. If we aren't ready to move yet by the time she closes, she will rent it back to us for as long as we need or want. She even told us that if something happened and we had to push the PCS back again, or try to anyway, that she doesn't even have to buy it until we're ready to sell it... just as long as she knows we won't sell it to anyone else.
One major huge life stress tackled. This is going to take out the scariest, most evil part of this moving experience.
And to top it all off, SSgt housing at Tinker AFB has a two-month waiting list (not nine months as we were previously told) and S. can get put on the waiting list the minute we have PCS orders. That means we might only end up having to stay in temporary housing for a few weeks.
Ladies and gentlemen, maybe some things are starting to look up over here. I have a lot of equity in the house. That means we'll start our new lives in Oklahoma probably completely debt-free, which will remove a huge stress.
Yay!
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Help, can someone help?
I swallowed a pill earlier today, a long capsule-like one. It's been about four hours now and it still feels like it's stuck in my throat, or actually in my stupid stomachpipe somewhere about right behind my sternum now.
I have eaten part of a sandwich and some fruit, I have consumed massive quantities of water, and I even swallowed a piece of bread without chewing it in hopes of pushing it down.
I'm having no luck, and I am getting desperate.
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Hey! Amber was the 25,000th reader!
Wahoo!
C'mere and give us a smooch!
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SHE CAN'T THINK OF A SINGLE ONE THAT COULD JUSTIFY LEAVIN'
My husband is the absolute best. The BEST!
He bought me a present tonight. A very cool little MP3 player so I can burn a bunch of my CD's and take them with me on the airplane when I go to Alaska. As long as I load myself down with some spare batteries, I should be fine.
Thank you, baby. Thanks for thinking of me and being selfless. I don't know what I'd be doing without you through these trying times, thanks for putting up with my frantic-ness. And thank you for the present. Presents are very cool. I dig them. Did I mention that I love it?
I hear through the grapevine that my dad had about a two-hour long conversation with his administrative assistant about his business, who to call, what to check on, major accounts, things like that. Then of course, he was back to mashed banana land. So, it's encouraging. That's about the longest he's been lucid in two weeks. Maybe by the time we get up there he will recognize us.
I think that's going to be the hardest part of the visit. To sit there with him and watch him be completely delirious, and have absolutely nothing I can do about it. There's nothing I can do but sit there and hope that he'll recognize us or want to talk to us about something real. If he tries to tell me he's eating hair, I don't know if I can stay in the hospital. I'm actually deathly afraid. I'm trying to prepare myself for the absolute worst I can think of, and then double it. Maybe then I won't feel so shocked. My sister and I are already talking about if he doesn't get any better, putting him in a home. It's so far off, yes, but we're still trying to evaluate all of the possible outcomes so we aren't overwhelmed by any of them. It sounds morbid. It pretty much sucks ass.
I hate flying. I'm actually scared to death of it. And I can't sleep on airplanes worth a shit. So, I am definitely not looking forward to the flight(s). My sister is going to get there a bunch ahead of me, and will come back to the airport to pick me up. It's a long, drawn out thing, but thank goodness it's only going to be three days. S. takes me to the airport at about 5pm on Friday and will pick me up at 10am on Tuesday... at which time I plan to come home and promptly go to sleep so I can go to work on Wednesday. Never in my life did I wish more, that my husband could walk me all the way to the gate. Thank you, Homeland Security Department. You'd better check my fucking driver's license on my way through the goddamn three metal detectors, and when you frisk me, could you buy me dinner first? Thanks.
So, on to something happier, eh?
VEGAS - the last day!
On Sunday morning, we got up at a leisurely pace, about an hour and a half later than all the other days. I think the tired-ness was finally catching up to us.
We checked out of the Sahara, put the bags in the car, and got together for a good breakfast at the cafe downstairs. Between the meal the night before (BLUE MAN YEAH YEAH YEAH) and that breakfast I think I ate more in those two meals than I did the rest of the weekend. (It's a blessing and a curse... I came home from Las Vegas a half a pound lighter than when I went.)
Then, we bought our passes to ride the roller coaster at the Sahara.
I was stoked. I love roller coasters, I absolutely love them. I fucking hate heights and can't stand to be out on the balcony from a high-up place, don't like airplanes, but I'd gladly pee my pants on a roller coaster any day. Give it to me.
So they did.
We got strapped in and LAUNCHED out. The roller coaster, called "Speed," doesn't start at the top of a hill like other roller coasters. It isn't gravity driven at the beginning. It's launched at a VERY fast speed (so fast we couldn't get a picture of it leaving the dock) so fast that it speeds you through a corkscrew, loop-dee-loop, and STRAIGHT UP so you're pointing absolutely vertical, before you're weightless for about a second and then it does the whole thing... backwards.
Yeah, you can't see the "after" picture. Suffice it to say it was worth the ten bucks.
Then, the boys decided to drive the Nascar simulators. S. didn't have a very good race.
Sorry, honey. But this is all about documenting the facts. (There were only seven cars in the race. You can do the math.) Maybe it's because he ended up in the pink car. I'm sure it was the color of the car and not the ability of the driver. I love you, honey. Aw, c'mon baby, gimme some sugar.
After that experience, we walked over to the Stratosphere. Okay. In the previous paragraphs, did I make ABSOLUTELY fucking clear that I don't like heights? That I hate them? I absolutely can't stand them, I'm scared to death of them, and that I'd rather pee my pants on a roller coaster? Did I say that? I'm sure I said it.
So can someone tell me why we paid $9 each to go to the top of the fucking Stratosphere, which was fucking 110 stories fucking up in the fucking air?
Yeah, I thought so.
If anyone can figure out why we did that, you can let me know.
I have all kinds of pictures of me at the top of the stratosphere courtesy of M., but instead of subjecting you to my face over and over again, I'll do these two instead.
This is the strip, from the top of the Stratosphere. Yes, I was on the observation deck. Yes, I was scared shitless.
And this is S., being all death-defying and macho. He decided to ride the rides at the top of the damn tower. Yes, rides. A roller coaster, a slingshot kind of ride where it shoots you into the air, and some other ride where it dangles you over the side. S. didn't dangle over the side. But he did shoot into the air. And I understand he almost
Then we drove home, and the rest of my pictures are all fairly boring pictures of desert, M's car, and somehow I also got a picture of my feet. I guess I was a little tired.
Overall, the trip was absolutely amazing. We proved that you can do Las Vegas on a budget. We had an absolutely cheapo trip and still got to do everything that time allowed. We didn't restrict our expenses on anything, and we came home with 1/4 of the money that we left with... considering our "budget" was 100% of the money we left with, that's a savings of 25%. That's a clearance sale, baby. Red-tag Vegas.
I think we are going to make a point of going back to Las Vegas, maybe for our anniversar(ies).
So that's it, the trip in all its glory. So let's all go!
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So, tomorrow I will hit 25,000 hits according to Sitemeter, which I understand is the lowest of the low in site hit meters anyways. But, since it's the one I've used from the beginning, I continue to use it because I hate change. Heh.
So, did we ever decide what we should do to celebrate? I don't know, what can we do?
I know it seems completely geeky, but I'm kind of excited about this. Took me 18 months to get 25,000 hits, and it was worth every day of it.
Thank you all for continuing to read me, for feeling connected somehow to my amazingly stress-filled and occasionally very stupid life, and you know, for being my friends.
I appreciate it. Honestly.
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Wednesday, June 16, 2004
I WAS BORN AT NIGHT, JUST NOT LAST NIGHT.
Vegas, Part Three.
To briefly answer questions, however, that were asked - no, we didn't make it to M&M World, or Coca-Cola World. We also didn't see NYNY on the inside, nor Monte Carlo, nor MGM Grand. There were a ton of things we just didn't have the time to see. In Vegas, before you know it, it's 2:00 a.m. and there's twentyleven gazillion people there, so it's rough.
So. Day Three. And Blue Man Group.
We got up on Saturday morning and none of us could wait until the big moment. After a late breakfast, we headed down the strip on the bus and got off somewhere around the Mirage. We started wandering through hotels and casinos and lobbies, seeing everything we could cram into a day. The Venetian was beautiful, with its blue-sky facades and lovely Pallazzo. Paris was fabulous with its cobblestone streets and the "legs" of the Eiffel Tower coming right in through the casino. Bally's was nice but there wasn't anything spectacular about it. We wandered through as many casinos as we could in the time allotted, but had to make our way home in time to change clothes and clean up for the show at 7pm.
At 5:30pm, we were on a bus headed down the strip and showed up at the Luxor by about 6pm. We went and picked up our tickets, and they told us we could go ahead and go in. We spent about half an hour sitting in the theatre, just marveling at how minimalist the stage set-up was and talking about how much fun we'd had.
They came through with a white roll of crepe paper and told us to use it to "decorate" ourselves any way we could. We wrapped it around our arms, around our heads, we tied ourselves to one another, having NO idea what was about to happen.
Blue Man started promptly at 7:00pm and it was the most amazing show I have ever seen in my life, and probably will be the most amazing I will ever see. If you have a chance to see it, you have to do it. You just have to. I can't give you too many details or it will spoil the experience for you. Let me just say that we honestly laughed, stared in awe, said, "Holy crap!", clapped our hands, sang songs, caught things flying through the air... it was an audience participation experience unlike anything I've ever seen or done in my life, and it was meant to be that way. It was completely amazing.
After the show, we got a picture and an "autograph."
The autograph was, the Blue Man in question kissed my ticket, leaving a large blue lip-print on it. The Blue Men, they don't talk, they don't even acknowledge you when you are speaking to them except they look RIGHT in your eyes, it's a very deep, calm stare, so you know they're "getting" what you're saying to them... but they don't react to you in any way.
After Blue Man, we hiked around that end of the strip, seeing the Excalibur (had dinner there), the Luxor of course, which is where Blue Man was, we were going to go to Mandalay Bay but we decided we'd like to see the volcano show at the Mirage instead at midnight. We hiked around the whole huge intersection (Excalibur/NYNY/Tropicana/MGM Grand) and finally found a bus stop where we could get on, but didn't make it to the volcano in time. M saw it from the windshield of the bus, though.
Got "home" to the Sahara after 12:30am and we were all so tired, we tried to sit and play some nickels before we went to bed but I could hardly keep my eyes open.
A fabulous trip all around.
Soon to come: our last day in Vegas
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Tuesday, June 15, 2004
VEGAS TRIP REPORT - DAY TWO
and other updates
My dad's condition doesn't seem to be improving much, if at all. We talked to him on the phone last night. He sounded healthy and clear headed, more so than he has in the last month. When he got on the phone and said, "Hello," his inflection was SO much my "same old dad" that I prematurely got a little jump in my stomach, thinking we might be seeing some progress.
"Hey," he said, "Whatever it is you wanted to tell me, can you write it down and get back to me later? I'm sitting here in the barber chair."
"Barber chair? We thought you were having dinner," we said, "aren't you having some dinner?" The nurse had told us she had been feeding him green peas and pineapple.
"Oh yeah, eating, yeah, well that's what they do here. Didn't you know that?" My dad sounded very matter-of-fact. "They cut your hair here in the barber chair, right, and then they take it and put it in a grinder, and they grind it up real small. Then they make these balls out of it, and they fry it up and feed it to you."
My heart sank.
"It kind of tastes like grass."
Here was my dad, sounding perfectly bright eyed and coherent, under no medication or sedation, telling me the barber was feeding him his own hair, and he was eating it. He then asked us "what rig" we were in so he could "get with us in about an hour," because once again of course, he was getting ready to "walk out the door."
The nurse then told us that compared to some, this was a pretty good day. At least his words he's using in conversation all go together and are appropriate for the topic at hand. Even if it's eating hair in a barber chair.
I leave Friday night for Anchorage.
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LV Day Two...
We got up about 8:30am and heard from our friend M who was making the trip up from Phoenix on Friday to join us for the rest of the weekend. He was on the road so we went out and about starting our day. We went downstairs and had breakfast at the cafe at the Sahara, and then we walked over to Circus Circus. Let me tell you, those places are way farther apart than they look. It's misleading because all the buildings are so big. So we walked to Circus Circus, where they have an amusement park. We rode the roller coaster and S. played a couple video games. It was fun, and when we walked out of there we were by a little casino that had a sign, $6.95 for a 48-oz strawberry daiquiri or other mixed drink. So we said, what the hell, it's Vegas baby, and we each got a huge hurricane glass (it was plastic) full of the beverage of our choice. We played some roulette too. Fun!
M showed up that afternoon ready to get his party on, so we hung out in the casino playing more nickel machines and the waitress just kept bringing the drinks. It was quite an experience. Three cocktails or so later, we went upstairs to change clothes and clean up a little and then went downtown.
The Fremont Street Experience was great, with the light shows and stuff, and we found a couple cute little casinos to hang out in and play a little and drink a little. I danced in the street (no, you can't see the pictures) and we hiked and hiked. The boys had steak and eggs (I had eggs and potatoes) at about 12:30am, another Vegas staple, and then we headed home.
A very long day, our feet were throbbing, we were very pooped, but we had another whole day ahead of us... and BLUE MAN...
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Monday, June 14, 2004
VEGAS TRIP REPORT - DAY ONE
We left Phoenix relatively early on Thursday morning, probably around 8:30 a.m. After making sure the house was buttoned down and the pets were okay and all was well, we took off down the road. We figured we'd end up in Vegas somewhere around 2:00 p.m. if we took our time, so that's what we did.
We stopped in the town of Wickieup, to pee and get a drink. My husband, in his infinite wisdom, came out of the store with this:
Pimp Juice. You go, honey.
The ride from Wickieup to Hoover Dam was relatively uneventful, with the exception of the Sheriff van who wanted to drive EXACTLY 65 miles an hour, causing all of us to - you guessed it - go 65 miles an hour. But that was all right, because we had Pimp Juice! Hooray for Pimp Juice.
Once we got to the Dam, S. had never been there so we had to find a spot to pull over and get some pictures. After much convincing, we let an older couple use S.'s camera to take this picture of us at the dam:
It was a beautiful day at the dam, and it was FULL of people. The line of folks just trying to get in to see the tour of the dam was about half a mile long and three people wide. I'm not kidding. It took us about ten minutes to drive about one mile at the dam, because there were so many pedestrians. We were happy to see, however, that when we crossed over into Nevada it was the same time zone, so we weren't really "out" any time.
Eventually, we found our way to the Sahara Hotel and Casino, which is where we called Home Base. This is what it looks like from the top of the Stratosphere:
The Sahara isn't one of the fancier properties, but it was still very nice. Good staff, everyone was amazingly nice. When we went to check in, I thought I'd try to use a hint that some other folks had given me. We got up to the counter and Michael, the check-in clerk, was very kind. He asked me for my I.D. so I handed him my military I.D. and a $20 bill folded neatly underneath it.
"So, what is it I can do for you today?" he said, leaning over the desk. I explained that we are on our honeymoon, that S. had been away for a period of months and it was his first time in Vegas, and I wondered if there were any upgrades available. He asked us to wait for a moment while he went in the back. When he returned he said, "You don't have a problem with heights, do you ma'am?"
"No, sir," I replied.
"Okay. Because you've got a corner suite on the 27th floor, that's got a view of the strip. I hope that will be satisfactory for your special event." The suite, by the way, was given to us as a free upgrade and we got to stay there for the same price as the normal room we had reserved.
I just about fell over. A SUITE! On the 27TH FLOOR! A CORNER SUITE! We couldn't believe it. So we started making our way to the 27th floor, after thanking Michael profusely, and got in the elevator. We pushed 27, and then we realized that 27 appeared to be the highest floor in the tower.
Here is where our suite was:
This is what the view looked like at night:
We were thrilled. We hit the casino to wander a little bit and came back up to the suite at about 5:30 for a nap. Went and had dinner at the Stratosphere buffet (not our favorite) and parked ourselves in front of a couple of nickel slot machines in the casino near the bar. Some time during the night, probably about 1:00 a.m., Shawn hit a 400-nickel jackpot and I hit a 900-nickel jackpot. Both machines ran out of nickels at the same time and they had to come back to fix them and re-fill them for us. That was enough time for us each to knock back a couple cocktails and revel in our winnings. I was pretty excited. Looked like it was going to be a great trip to Vegas for the two of us. And this was only the first half day...
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We're home. I have a full report on the trip to make, and am putting that together as time allows. I'll include pictures. It was a great trip, thank you for all of your love and support.
My dad isn't doing so well and we are going to Alaska next week to see him. I may be gone all of next week. Thanks for understanding.
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Wednesday, June 09, 2004
DON'T YOU FORGET ABOUT ME
Well.
So here we are, then.
Talked to my dad today. While he sounded quite healthy, he was completely not lucid. He had just eaten breakfast, and he told us he was at a restaurant and that he wished he could have had the waitress instead of his lunch.
At least he's got a sense of humor in dreamland.
He then said, "Hey kids, can I call you back in about ten minutes? I'm just running out the door."
I cried.
Sis is going to take charge of his care while I'm gone, which is a good thing. I don't expect to hear from her unless he becomes lucid and I can have a real convo with him, or something negative happens. Since his vitals are stable, I don't anticipate anything bad.
That doesn't mean we couldn't use your prayers if you can spare them. I'd love to come home knowing my dad's lucid again.
We'll take plenty of pictures. There's a business center at the hotel, so if we win big and can afford the computer time, maybe I'll post an entry from there. I know some of you come here 4-5 times a day, and I'd hate to disappoint. Aw, look at me, catering to readers. What's gotten into me?
I'll have a cocktail for all y'all. Infinite thanks for all of your support and friendship these last, hard couple weeks. See you Monday.
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I've been starting to lose some hope with my dad. Yesterday I spent a lot more time than I should have, talking to my sister, my dad's lawyer, accountant, foreman, and a variety of other people just to find out how his business is doing and whether or not one of us needs to come up there to try and help out. My dad has been in the hospital now for 13 days, and he still isn't out of his DT's.
Trying to deal with it or handle it all currently, in addition to calling the hospital three times a day and being the one who "gives permission" for a variety of different procedures and things they want to do, has been pretty overwhelming.
So I did get some good news this morning. Yesterday he went all day without sedation and he's resting comfortably right now, plus, his lucid moments are closer together, there are more of them, and they're lasting longer. He's figured out that he's in the hospital and while he may "forget" that he's there from time to time, the nurse this morning says it's obvious progress over the last couple of days and that she can truly say he's moving forward. She also told me that he's sleeping without sedation, which is a sign that the DT's are lessening.
This is a blessing on a lot of different levels. My sister wants to go in, guns blazing, and "handle" everything... so I've been trying to keep her calmed down and focused on the task at hand, which is right now just trying to pray and make sure my dad comes out of it okay.
Because it's going to be a whole different ball game, again, once he's coherent. Then, we have to tell him we think he needs to go into rehab. And deal with however he thinks he wants to handle that.
So, thank you again for anyone who's even had us in your thoughts for a brief moment. I've had a lot of fear in the last two or three days, especially about whether or not my dad was just going to stay a vegetable. I'm happy to see him finally improving.
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Speaking of having fear, my medication got upped this week and I don't know if it's the meds, or the fact that the meds got upped with all the additional stress, but I've been feeling particularly crappy the last couple of days. I know my body needs some time to get used to what I'm doing to it, but jeez! Freight train in my head. I also don't want to eat, I have absolutely no desire to put food in my mouth. S. has been encouraging me to eat, even if it's running out at 9pm and getting me something that "might" "start to" sound good at that time. Since I went on my medication, I've lost 8 pounds.
I'm having absolutely crazy dreams. We have tried everything - I have a sedative to help me sleep, that doesn't help. I've tried aromatherapy, meditation, stretches, even a dream catcher. Nothing seems to help. This morning, I was grumbling and sweating while asleep because I was trying to (in dream world) get some police officers to go investigate where a friend of mine got beat by her husband/boyfriend, and they wouldn't go no matter how hard I tried to get them to go.
S. says my dreams all seem control-issue based.
Which is all the more reason I need to get the fuck out of here for a few days.
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Viva, Las Vegas. Las Vegas on a budget. I'm really, really excited about this. I mean, I guess I'm excited as I can be under the circumstances. But a chance to get out of here for a couple of days and maybe concentrate on feeling like a tourist and having some fun and enjoying my husband for the first time, really, since he's been home... all of these things are appealing to me. All of these things are things I want to do. I am hoping I'll be able to sleep, dream, and relax.
Today, I will go to the bank (so will S.) and we will pull out our trip-cash. The room is paid, our Blue Man tickets are paid. Just cash to wander around with and play with. Tomorrow morning, we'll hit the road.
Tonight, we go to our restaurant grand opening party to see our friend Chef Christopher, and wish him well on his great new endeavor.
Oh, and I bought a swimsuit last night. Let me just say that paying that much money for that little fabric is a huge pain in the ass. But at least they let S. come in the dressing room with me while I tried them all on, to see which suit might uh... fit my figure best.
Bathing suits are the spawn of hell.
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Tuesday, June 08, 2004
SAY YOU LOVE ME, LOVE ME FOREVER
I have a vice.
I read Mimi Smartypants all the time. All. The. Time. I love her writing, and was thrilled to find out that she got a book deal. Her journal is the kind I like - writing about her life. Of course, she's got an overly-creative, twisted look at her life, which makes it even better.
But I read the following quote today which made me very happy. This is exactly how I feel, is probably why I will never get a book deal, and why I'm so honored that I have as many readers as I do. I just don't really get "into" the whole write-a-blog-to-earn-an-audience thing, or even the write-a-blog-to-piss-people-off-and-cause-controversy thing, but that's where a lot of the weblog "genre" is going lately. I'm a fan of real life, and that means taking the good with the bad, and I love to climb in someone else's head and know what's going on with them. It helps me connect.
SO anyway. Mimi said this. Amen, sister.
--"6. This weblog has an entry (scroll down) where it says that I am self-absorbed (ha!) and that one symptom of this, besides my boring self-absorbed content, is that my email is unreachable and that I don't have comments enabled. First off, I think it is hilarious to call a diary "self-absorbed." Second, I don't know what happened with this guy's particular email, but I do in fact receive email pertaining to this website, and I make a serious, valiant effort to reply to most of it. I vastly prefer email to weblog-style comments, since I think people are more thoughtful when they have to put keyboard to email client instead of spouting off in a little text box. And the possibility for anonymous comments seems to bring out some people's inner asshole, which I can totally do without.
So the post is misinformed, and hey: no big deal. My mailbox has been kind of full recently, so it is entirely possible that some people are getting bouncebacks. The bigger point I wanted to make is about this comment:
"I would certainly characterize her material at this point as self-absorbed. I would think that to grow and improve as an artist, one would need to get beyond talking about one's daughter's bowel movements, one's last toke, one's last public reading, and the like. My concern is that I'm not seeing this, and one reason I'm not is that there's no way to provide feedback -- either info on writing that's being done that might match her interests, or even stuff she might improve on her own blog."
1. I am not an artist.
2. As I said, I'm not following the logic that my webpage, which (as I have stressed over and over again) is a DIARY, in the true and classic sense, should "get beyond" being "self-absorbed." In no way do I think of my diary as a cultural product* that is being produced in order for you to comment on, criticize, purchase, not purchase, or provide feedback on how to improve. (Online diary as writing workshop? Gag me.) Of course, you are free to do so, but to state that I am too big for my britches because I don't "accept feedback" (WHICH I DO), is missing a crucial point. I'm having a conversation. With you. With myself, and the day-to-day shifting incarnations thereof. With the future Google-searchers who might develop an interest in pus-drinking nuns. Weblogs and online diaries can be many things to many people, so blah blah free to be you and me and that is all I want to say on this shopworn subject.
*I know this stance is ALL CRAZY COMPLICATED now that parts of my diary are being sold as a book, but I hope I have explained my thoughts on that by now, and if you are still confused we will have to get together for a whole lot of beer so I can re-explain in person. God.
---mimi smartypants is candy all over. "
And that, my friends, is exactly what journaling is about.
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Oog. If you had asked me yesterday, how yesterday was going to go, I don't think I would have pegged it.
First day back to work after being the one to frantically leave the office in the middle of the day on Friday, means that everyone who saw you leave needs the update on how things are going. I spent a while in the morning catching everyone up on whether or not things were okay and how we were handling stuff.
My sister and mom got back to Pennsylvania from the Jersey Shore and we spoke a couple of times during the day. She's got some grand plans for how she wants to start handling things, people she wants to talk to, to get to the bottom of what's going on, more conspiracy theories are flying around... it seems Young Chippie has left the state (imagine that) when she found out my dad was in the hospital, is trying to sell her house, and is trying to get the truck that my dad loaned her the money to buy shipped to California without having made any payments on it... A long and twisted and tangled web, but one I'm determined to avoid until I come back from Vegas. I did tell my sis that I would get on 3-way with her and talk to my dad's attorney, however, just to see what some of our options are while he's in the hospital and unable to make decisions for himself.
My sister wasn't ready to "talk" to him last night. I truly think she didn't want to believe me when I said he's basically incapacitated. She wanted to believe he could talk. But at about 7pm my time, the phone rang and it was D., saying she was with my dad in his hospital room and he had asked to talk to his girls. So, we called the hospital and got put through to his room. My sister started in, "Hi, dad, how ya doing?" The series of mumbles and incoherent blathering that came after that was enough to shock her into crying, and she broke down into a sobbing fit. I just kept telling her, try to hear what he's saying, try to understand what he's talking about, you have to talk to him... he wanted to talk about drag racing the hobby car we used to have, and fishing in Mexico, and getting a little 50cc 4-wheeler for my nephew to ride down there, lots of different things. He knew he was talking to us, becuase he was telling us about things that we'd remember, memories we were involved in, plans we were involved in. But my sister had a real hard time of it.
I consider it progress that he's at least starting to make some connections and can talk a little bit. D. also says that he's going through some of the more "typical" hallucinations now, I guess he'll say, "Hey don't go over there, don't you see that snake?" and "Can't they do anything about all these bugs?"
They're going to move him probably today to another room, at least that's what D said the doctor said.
My sister talked to me about when she goes up there and asked me if I'm going to go. I told her my first inclination is that if he voluntarily chooses to go into a rehab program, then I will go up there, see him checked out of the hospital, help him however I can for a few days and be there for him when he checks into rehab. But if he refuses to go into any kind of rehab program, I don't think I'm going to go up there. I don't want to go there and feel more helpless than I feel down here. As it is, I am making myself physically sick. Especially after this weekend. My weight is plummetting. That's probably a good thing, but it's mostly because I can't eat. Nothing sounds good. I forget to eat. And this new medicine has me kind of wacky.
Anyway. That's enough about me for this portion of our program... thank you to everyone who continues to keep my dad in their prayers.
Get well, dad.
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Work has been hectic and I have a lot of things that need to get done before I can get out of town. Yesterday I had a bunch of meetings and some obligations that kept me from getting everything done. One of them was my monthly meeting/review, which turned out real well. I got told I'm an exceptional employee and that I'm valued. That made me feel really good. Exceptional. That's the word she used. I came out of there feeling pretty good about myself.
Two days until leaving for Las Vegas. In exactly two days I will be about an hour and a half from getting on the road to Sin City. I'm thrilled, actually. My sister is going to be able to handle things with my dad just fine. It's all going to be fine. And we're going to have fun.
Just gotta get all our ducks in a row for it.
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Monday, June 07, 2004
MAKE NO SOUND, TIP TOE ACROSS THE FLOOR
I have second-hand word that they will probably move my dad today into a regular room.
He is "trying to concentrate" on what is going on around him, which they consider to be progress.
To all who have taken the time to pray, think of us, send happy energy, light a candle, or however it is that you've chosen to help, on behalf of my entire family -- thank you very much.
I've now talked to my sister and my mom both and informed them that we plan to go to Las Vegas for the honeymoon. They are behind us in that decision.
Now, I just have to convince them that it's okay that I don't want to go to Alaska... I don't think me being there is going to be any more of a reason for him to "do the right thing" than if I'm not. And anyway, as soon as I get on a plane, he's still got free will to do what he chooses. I can only pray that almost dying - twice - is enough to jostle him into not drinking.
A girl can hope.
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As of about 9pm last night, my dad was continuing to "get through" his DT's about as well as could be expected. None of the nurses sound particularly concerned about his "condition," and they are saying that what they're seeing from him is normal for the circumstances. His blood pressure keeps moving up and down, and the doctors are trying to control that with medication. He's been in some pain, probably from his severe arthritis and the fact that he's been laying in a hospital bed for over a week. He's stiff, you know.
He is doing a little better at trying to respond to basic commands (wiggle your fingers, look at me) and will open his eyes and look at the nurses when they talk to him, but no one can say for sure what he's seeing, exactly, when he opens his eyes.
They assure me that he's stable and that this is normal. Am I so strange for being so creeped out, and thinking it isn't normal? They're happy to talk to me whenever I call, but I'm having a hard time believing this is "normal."
I have a hard time even picturing my dad in a hospital bed, let alone delirious and incoherent. Incoherent from booze, sure, I've heard and seen that plenty a time. But just knowing that he wouldn't know me if he saw me, well, that's just kind of sad. Okay, it's very sad.
I definitely need to get out of town. Gotta get out of here.
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Moving on to simplifying the life, I filled THREE huge green garbage bags with clothes to donate to Goodwill yesterday, decided to throw away about 20 old pair of shoes, we cleaned out the garage, took all of K's mom's stuff back to her house (so now we can fit two cars in the garage, yay, since it's 110 degrees or so) and got the second bedroom almost cleaned out. Couple that with S.'s work in the yard this weekend, the fact that the pool is ready to swim in (and has been swum in, actually) and that the pool cleaner is working overtime, everything is very good around here. Starting to feel a little more like my house, now. Oh, and the grass is growing, too. Remarkable what happens when you water it.
Cody, my dog who's got cancer, well, he still doesn't know he's sick. He gets lots of quality time with Mom and Dad every night, and he gets nice treats when he gets his medicine. But he doesn't know he's sick. Hopefully he'll be fine when we go to Las Vegas for four days.
Three days. Yay, three days. I've been reading Las Vegas forums and trip-advisor websites trying to find lots of free and fun things to do there. Good thing tons of things there are free and fun!
Can't wait.
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Sunday, June 06, 2004
DREAMLAND
My dad's DT's are keeping him pretty delerious. That's standard, from what they tell me. His vitals are holding steady and he's not on the respirator any more. His CT-scan came back normal, no evidence of an "acute brain change."
He's just confused, doesn't know where he is. He talks non-stop. He talks about fishing, buying a new house, and getting together with friends. They tell me that at least he's having happy delerium instead of scared or upset or sad delerium.
They are going to keep him in the ICU to monitor his blood pressure, which keeps creeping up, but aside from that he's doing fine.
I was struggling with the decision, but after talking to my sister this morning, I've decided that if he continues to show improvement or stays the same and stable, we are going to go to Las Vegas. There's nothing I can do for him while he's not coherent, and there's probably nothing I can do for him even while he IS coherent.
I can only hope that he wakes up, realizes he's been basically unconscious for nearly two weeks, and decides to stop drinking. I suppose I have high hopes.
So, as of right now the Vegas trip is on. I'll keep calling the hospital a couple times a day to check on his status.
The nurse held the phone up to his ear yesterday. I said, "Dad, it's Rose, we love you, and we want you to get better." He said, "Where are you?" I said, "Arizona, dad." and he said, "Don't cry."
I don't even know if he knew who I was. But he heard me crying, and told me not to cry. Oddly, that's exactly what he would have said to me if he was wide awake and lucid.
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Saturday, June 05, 2004
HERE COMES THE SUN...?
My dad is waking up. He woke up enough to be "visibly irritated and upset" at the fact that he's got a tube down his throat and is connected to a bunch more machines than he was when he went to sleep a week ago. They had to give him another light sedative so he didn't hurt himself with the tube, and they might extubate him today.
That's an improvement. Thank you all for all your prayers. If he was "in" the woods yesterday, he might be "coming out" of it now. They still don't know why he was having such a hard time breathing, but I hope to speak to the doctor later today.
Thanks again.
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Friday, June 04, 2004
...
I got the call at about 10:30 a.m. on my cellular phone. It was D., halfway frantic, calling me from the hospital. It seemed my dad, although he hadn't been sedated for ovger 12 hours, was still not responding to stimulus. That means, he wasn't waking up. They shook him, poked him, did all the little things they do, and he wouldn't wake up. They needed family's permission to do a spinal tap to check for infection.
I called the hospital right away and talked to the nurse at his station, who explained the situation to me. I told her I did not have medical power of attorney, but she said since there were no family members there and nothing in writing in his file, that I had the say. So of course, I told them they could do the spinal tap. They told me they were going to move him to some kind of unit in between regular care and the ICU, not as bad as ICU, so they could more closely monitor him.
I hung up the phone and broke down in the small conference room at my work, unable to function at least for a short time. I called my friend M. in from down the hall and asked him to come sit with me. He sat with me while I went through the stages of a minor panic attack and talked to me until I calmed down. It was just when I was getting ready to go back to work when my phone rang again.
It was the hospital.
The nurse on the other end of the line told me that in the ten minutes since last we spoke, my father's vital signs had crashed. His BP took a dive, his heart rate was erratic, his "levels" were lower than they should have been, and there were five people in his room trying to stabilize him. He was having "severe respiratory distress" and they couldn't figure out why he suddenly was unable to breathe. The nurse was trying not to sound frantic herself, and I could hear them in the background yelling at one another to try or do different things.
The nurse told me they were going to rush him to the ICU as soon as he was intubated, and they were going to put him on a respirator. The doctor(s) had been paged; neurologist, cardiopulmonary doctor, regular doctor, emergency doctor, and the doctor who was filling in on the day off for his regular doctor. At least one of them was en route to the hospital.
They would call me back in 15 minutes.
My mother is on vacation with my sister at the Jersey Shore. Their cellphones are out of range, and I do not have the telephone numbers or even the names of the places they are visiting or staying. So I tried frantically to reach either one of them, but to no avail.
In 15 minutes, I received a call from the hospital's chaplain. At that moment, when she said, "I am the chaplain at P_____ Hospital," I thought I was going to fall over and die. I thought she was calling me to tell me that my father was dead.
She was calling to fill me in on his condition and let me know what room they had him in. She said that "his" doctor would be on site soon and that they had intubated him and he was on a respirator. They could not tell me if he was stable.
At that point, I was frantic and falling apart by the second. My boss drove me home and stayed with me while I was waiting for S. to come home. I phoned the doctor back and talked to her about my father's condition.
His DT's, or physical alcohol withdrawals, are so bad that although he hasn't been sedated for nearly 24 hours, he isn't really waking up. In speaking with the doctor, two nurses and the hospital chaplain again, I've been reassured that he is in ICU, intubated, and on a respirator, and that they have a close watch on him. They are running tests on his brain to see if he has suffered a stroke, hemorrhage, anyeurism, or other type of "acute brain change" that might have led to his respiratory distress.
I finally heard from my sister tonight, and told her. Her first question was, am I going to las vegas. Her second question was, am I going to Alaska.
All I know is right now, both of those things are too far away to think about, so I am going to try to get some rest.
Anyone who wants to keep my dad in your prayers, it'd be appreciated. He's pretty much a shithead, but I don't want him to die.
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I have to be at an event at Hoity Toity Resort at 6:00 a.m., which cuts into prime blogging time. Dunno if I'll have any time today to update.
Let it suffice to say that it is less than ONE WEEK until we go to LAS VEGAS and I can NOT FUCKING WAIT.
Can't. Fucking. Wait.
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Thursday, June 03, 2004
BLUE MOON, YOU SAW ME STANDING ALONE
Happy full moon, to anyone who cares. Okay, then.
It's Thursday of a short week and I feel like I've been at work for five days already. Between dealing with the pettiness of one gal I work with (same one as usually) and working in the evenings every night this week, all work and no play makes Rose a tired girl.
Last night I worked again until about 9:30. I have to leave early today to run an errand for the office before I get to work and then tonight I have to work again, this time translating some Spanish material... but the kicker is, I have to return the Spanish tape and translation TONIGHT because I have to be at Hoity Toity Resort at 6:30a.m. tomorrow, which is 10 miles the other direction from where I have to go to drop off the work. So, S. is going to drive me up there - by 9pm I've been tired enough that I probably shouldn't be driving.
Our next door neighbor AND my mother are out of town, so we are house-sitting fiends this week. My mom doesn't own any pets, just plants, so that's not a big problem. S. is taking care of the neighbor's cat and fish, I am taking care of my mom's house, and the neighbors will take care of our brood while we're gone next week.
Speaking of being gone next week, I am more and more excited. Planning a budget of what we're going to do, see, and spend, and I think we're really going to have a ball. Can't wait, can't wait. Come this time in exactly one week, we will be getting up and dressed, loading the car, and hitting the road for a leisurely drive to Vegas. Rock on.
-----
I got a phone call last night from D., my dad's ex-girlfriend. She's been sitting at the hospital with him and trying to keep in touch with the doctor. The ultrasounds of his abdomen look "okay" and they think he'll be fine recovering from the beating, but they took an MRI of his brain yesterday that we don't have the results of yet. They have also kept him HEAVILY sedated now for days, and they said they wouldn't be decreasing the amount of sedative until MAYBE today. He is expected to be in the hospital at least until Monday probably, but maybe longer if they feel he needs it with regard to his alcoholism, DT's and psych consult. When he is more lucid and able to talk to a psychiatrist, the hospital psych folks are going to talk to him.
D. was cleaning up his apartment for him and found half-smoked packs of cigarettes in various places around the house, and has come to the conclusion he's been smoking. I think that's interesting since he hasn't smoked since I was about 5 years old. But you never know how the synapses in his brain are firing... maybe he thought it would make him feel better. I remember as a kid he used to bitch about my mom smoking after he had quit. He said it was filthy and smelled bad and couldn't stand it. Didn't like kissing her cuz it tasted like a dirty ash tray. How the mind changes.
So perhaps we will try to give him a call today at the hospital. Who knows.
Oh well, gotta get going. Peezowt.
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Wednesday, June 02, 2004
ROUND, ROUND, GET AROUND, I GET AROUND
Well, we didn't call my dad last night. My sister and her husband had some serious running around to go do, and although they were supposed to call me some time to conference-call the hospital, they didn't. I haven't heard that they let him out, at least not yet, so maybe we'll try to call him today.
Yesterday was an odd one for me. Was having a day just kind of full of antsiness, nothing was quite "right." I couldn't really focus on anything. I got stuff done at work but by the time I got home I couldn't really even focus on the transcription work I had to do. It took me about two and a half hours, with distractions, to do one tape. That's about twice as long as it should have taken me. S. sat here in the office with me and played Unreal Tournament on his new 'puter... when he came home with the bag from Fry's Electronics, I knew there had to be a game in there. "Sorry I didn't call you from there," he said, "but I didn't see anything I thought you'd like." Heh. That's okay, he probably knows I'd just as soon buy a game directly from Popcap anyway.
So I hit the sack at like 9:30 last night, crawled into bed and was basically out like a light. He wandered in some time around midnight, he says, but I couldn't tell you. When I thought I might be able to grab a few Z's without the use of a pill, I ran right in there and laid down. Take it while you can get it.
There's a lot going on. Did I mention that this weekend we spit-shined the house, or at least most of it? The guest room still needs to be cleaned. But at least, although it's still kind of full of our crap, we're closer to feeling like we could show the house to sell it. My mom is out of town for the next week or so, on her way to see my sister and family I believe, so we'll be watering her plants and keeping an eye on the next door neighbor's house while SHE is gone... all of this so we can turn around next week and have them all keep an eye on OUR house while WE are gone!
The closer the Vegas trip gets, the more I need it. We're even going to be meeting up with some folks from a Las Vegas EZboard forum while we're there to get a drink and hang out a little downtown, they were very helpful in our planning and then when they found out S. is military, they asked us to join them for a drink. I'd like to think it was also because we were getting along so well, but some of it might just be that someone wants to shake an Airman's hand. Or something.
Blue Man Group, can't wait, I'm so excited. I've never spent so much money on seeing any one "thing" in my entire life, but I have heard it's going to be worth every penny. I'm glad I got talked into splurging for tickets, and I'm glad we had saved some wedding present money to be able to do it.
The Planning Aquarian in me has already started checking for prices on buffet restaurants and places to go and things to see. I have to get in "Vegas Mode" and let myself just get swept away with it, I'd guess.
Time to start calming down. At least until I talk to my dad, which will probably rile me back up. I had kind of a puking fit yesterday a.m. so I'm waiting to take my pills til I'm on the way to work, and my stomach is settled in.
Well, I see my hubby putting on his BDU's, so I need to go worship him and adore him on his way out the door. Yum!
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Tuesday, June 01, 2004
AM I BLUE?
11 DAYS TO BLUE MAN!
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For some reason, this blog is taking FOR FUCKING EVER to load. I just keep hitting refresh until it finally comes up.
Anyone else having this problem? Any ideas as to what it might could be?
It does wonders for y'all when all you get is a black page. Bah.
----------
update...
Thanks to Burnt Fuse, I have learned that it was the nerds online counter. As she so eloquently said: asshats.
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Ladies and gentlemen, apparently we have arrived!
A friend of ours, who is becoming quite a renowned chef in the Phoenix area, is opening a new restaurant.
And we have been invited to the Grand Opening.
And everything is fully complimentary.
I'm very excited about this. Asian fusion cuisine (and he's a great chef, and a great Asian chef) and a menu of 30 different martinis. The place is called "Orchid" and it's in Phoenix's Chinese Cultural Center. It's going to be quite the hipster hangout, and we will be there.
Next week is coming together as being fun. Now, on Wednesday, we will go wine and dine with the hipster elite, then Thursday we will get up and hit the road to Las Vegas.
That's pretty cool, actually. Who am I kidding? That's REALLY cool. Yay for me, I get to pretend I'm one of the cool kids for a little while!
In other news, I'd like to say "Thank you, USAF, for the Family Separation Allowance." It was just what this family needed.
Last night, although I wrote about being glad my dad was in the hospital and having my shit together, apparently I did not quite have all my shit together. I had some trouble getting to sleep, that is until my loving husband went and fished out one of my "use in case of emergencies" "mild sedatives," which proceeded to run over me like a truck and send me off into dreamland.
Drugs. Ugh.
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Well, today was a lot of fun. It's always enjoyable to get together with friends, share stories, play games, and feel comfortable. I haven't enjoyed myself in quite some time.
We play board games, and the boardgame we played today is called ZOMBIES!!!. Yes, with all the exclamation points. It's kind of a dawn of the dead game, where you wander around the city killing zombies and try to be the first one to climb on board the helicopter and leave everyone else to get their brains eaten. It's a fun game full of backstabbing and fucking over the other players, putting obstacles in their way, sending them back to the beginning, forcing them to fight zombies when all they want to do is run away. It's actually really fun and we'd highly recommend it... it's also a LONG game, as we started playing at 2pm and with time out for dinner, we played until 10:00.
So, I'm feeling pretty relaxed. My dad's in the hospital, sedated, going through detox, and hopefully will be in the hospital for at least a few more days. We've tried to call but he's been asleep. There's some strange peace-giving quality about knowing that he's somewhere that he can't hurt himself or anyone else.
Which leads me to the fact that with my dad in the hospital, it's freed up my mind a little to think about LAS VEGAS! Amber mentioned telling stories about Vegas, and Roulette, so I thought I'd share a story from my past.
I was 25 years old. Tom, my ex husband, was 26. He wasn't my ex husband yet. As a matter of fact, we were barely even dating at that time. I was in Vegas on a long weekend trip with a friend or two, and I had tried to work in some time to see Tom (he lived in Vegas at the time).
I ended up parking myself in Harrah's casino, which is where we were staying. At that time it wasn't the glowing festival of Mardi Gras that it is today, it was just one of the older, more simple casinos on the strip. As a result, during the day they had cheap gambling... my favorite was $0.50 roulette.
I sat at the roulette table and bought in with $20. The 'dealer' was named Rusty, and I will never forget that until the day I die. Rusty was an older guy, probably in his 60's, and he could wiggle his ears. For hours, I was the only one really sitting at the roulette table, and every time I needed a good number, I'd say, "Hey Rusty, I need a ______." And Rusty would look at me and wiggle his ears. I didn't always get the number I needed, but Rusty got a good laugh out of me.
Somewhere along the line after sitting there for probably two hours, my luck started to turn. I was betting the number 26 heavily, and I probably hit on it about four or five times over the course of an hour. At 37:1, the winnings were pretty substantial. Even at $0.50 per chip. Rusty let me know at around 5pm that the table was changing to $1.00 roulette and asked if I still wanted to play; when I told him yes, he exchanged my half-dollar chips for dollar chips.
And I kept winning.
My friends wandered by the table, and I had stacks and stacks of purple chips. "Those still 50 cents?" they asked. "Nope, they're a buck," I said. Every time they came back my stack was higher. Eventually I had used up all the purple colored chips and they were having to pay me out in real money chips. I couldn't believe it.
A man at the end of the roulette table, which was by then quite crowded, started betting with me. Whatever numbers I'd bet, he'd put $5 on top of my $1. And I was having a good night, and kept hitting. So imagine it - if I made $37, or even $8... he was winning five times what I was winning.
We struck up a conversation, and I learned that he lived in my home town. We were getting along quite well when my friends, both male, wandered back to the table to see me sitting there with a huge stack of chips. I had won about $300 in all for my $20 investment. As we were talking about how to celebrate my winnings, the gentleman at the end of the table pointed out that by betting with me he'd won significantly more than me, and offered to take us all out to a lobster dinner... on him.
We did just that, and ate some of the best-tasting lobster I've ever had in my life. I don't know if it's because it was free, if it was because I was celebrating a win, or just because it was Las Vegas. Vegas has a way of making things magical. I've never won that big again, but I still like to go there. So much to see and do.
Look out Las Vegas, here we come! But first, seven more work days.
VEGAS COUNTDOWN: 9 DAYS
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My job as a military wife is
to make it as easy as possible
for my beloved husband to do his job.
Where he leads, I will follow.
Name: Rose
Age: 36
Religion: Pagan
Husband: SSgt, USAF
Current Location: Tinker AFB, OK
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