Fini

Well, I decided to put it all together so you could see it from (almost) start to finish. This is the official end of the china hutch project.

Congratulations to B, for his intricate, wonderful work. How he does it I'll never know.

OMG

Oh.....My.....God.....

For a few years now I've been doing the Christmas window painting for some of our City buildings (hey, it's cheaper to pay me an hours work than to hire out! lol).

This year, word has gotten around, and the museum wants me to do their front windows. I said 'yeah, why not?' Well.... I went out there today to take a look at the project, and I am just floored.

There will be basic borders around the area where the Christmas tree will go, just to set it off, as expected. But, there are also two great big vast window sets that just BEG for vignettes.

Did I mention this is the museum I've been thinking about hanging my work in?

Did I mention that they want these windows painted in time for their Christmas show (the biggest show of the year)?

Did I mention that MY ARTWORK will be the very first thing anyone sees before they come in??

Um... did I mention that I only have a WEEK to design and finish this project?

...... (teeny bit stressed......HUGELY EXCITED).......

Don't plan on hearing from me for a few, but when you do, I'll have pictures.

Wish me luck.... this is the beginning of one of my life's dreams.

The continuing saga of the hutch

HERE I am being boring again. LOL


But, as promised, more in-progress pics of the hutch. Cause two months down the road, I will have forgotten what a HUGE PAIN IN THE PATUSCHKA this project was, and attempt to do another. Oh, by the way, did I mention that I could have bought a brand new china hutch with what we've so graciously donated to Lowe's?

Well, we are progressing with the project, as you can see. The frame has been painted light mint green, there's a new white beadboard panel on the back, a new piece of footer trim on the bottom to replace the rotted foot panel that was there, new legs, and new trim on both the top and the sides of the front.



The sides are masked off for painting with that funny purple tape. The top rail runs around the front and sides, and it's hard to see in the pic. I painted the top and bottom rail of the trim mint green, and the spindles tealy dark green for accent. That was B's idea. It was harder than it sounded.




If you enlarge the picture, or look close, the spindles have a little ball in the center of each one. I brushed that with gold paint in kind of an antiquing pattern. This color pattern will continue down the sides that I've masked off. The side trim has a rope trim in the center flanked by two ribbon trims to the outside. The ribbons will be mint, leaving the centers the dark/gold combination. I think it'll look nice.


B is in the process of building the new doors for the bottom, and the drawer is still waiting for its base coat. We had a nice surprise. We went to Lowe's to replace the icky drawer pulls, but because they were inset, we couldn't find a thing that would fill the great gaping holes they'd leave behind. So, B bought a wire wheel, and decided to clean them up, since we figured we'd be stuck with them a while longer. Happily, once they were cleaned, they ended up being just the perfect shade of bright gold that we were looking for! They are going to match the other knobs just fine. What serendipity!


I was amazed at B. He worked like a bee all weekend long on the project, and didn't flag. Either his meds were perfectly calibrated or, as he said, he was just having a good time and was feeling good. I asked him several times if he wanted to quit, but he said he's happier feeling like he's doing something productive and substantial, and I couldn't argue with that.


Actually, I think it's a good thing. The more active we are, the longer he'll be active. And it was a lot of fun working together. Even if I hit myself with the hammer four times. And he threatened to take it away from me and put me in a padded suit.


So I'm uncoordinated. :-D

Yes, I am a burglar

HOO boy.

First of all, let me start by saying that I, M, am a renovataholic. There, I said it. And admitting it is the first step.

Wait... I'm not interested in RECOVERY! I just want you to point me to all the cool stuff out there that I can COPY! Sheesh!

Like the furniture we've been redoing lately. I saw at least four cool china hutches in various stages of renovation online, and took parts from each of them to decide how to do mine. And I have big plans for it, folks. Big plans. We're off to Lowe's this morning as soon as I get my lazy bum in the shower and quit drinking coffee and writing in my blog. (If I write in my blog about showering, is it the same as doing it? Does that count??)

But I have to admit... my greatest fantasy is the new house B and I have been promising each other for the last year. We're patiently waiting for all his legal stuff to clear, so we can shop in earnest. It's going to be a blast. Every day there are more and more houses up for sale. It's like jumping into the ball court at McDonald's. I feel like I could just roll around in them. More, more! Ahahahahahaha...

No disrespect to those folks in bankruptcy and foreclosure. I've been there. It's a life changing, gut wrenching thing. And it's hasn't been long enough ago that it doesn't hurt anymore. So I don't really want to think on that much. But after a lot of cleanup and a lot of hard work, my life's finally come around to a point where I can start to think about having something of my own. God knows I've spent enough money, time and love on this little rental. It's time to branch out.

So, I don't know if everyone else does this or if I'm just the weird neighborhood-stalker gal, but I like to go out for drives in nicer neighborhoods than mine on the weekends and steal things.

Wait... wait. Don't call the cops yet. I'm talking ideas. Concepts. Designs. Porch details. Paint color combinations. Landscape ideas. Home layouts. Decor. Do you get my drift?

I'm an unabashed stealer of stuff. I can't look at a thing without thinking "I bet I could make that. And BETTER." If I'm not doing something with my hands, tearing something apart, rebuilding, renovating, upgrading... I'm going crazy.

So, I found this site. I guess there's more people out there like me. Go figure! Check out this link. I am somewhat of an imposter for being there, because these people do it so much better than I. If you click on all their links, you can take a virtual tour of many, many unique and beautiful homes, and be inspired, as I have been.

http://hookedonhouses.net/2008/10/23/hooked-on-house-tours-the-fall-party-starts-here/

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And for a little bit of our own casa:

We got into this rental in 2003. It had a raggedy front and back yard with scads of crabgrass and weeds, no foundation plantings to speak of except a couple of those wretched pom pom shaped junipers, and absolutely no character. You could drive down the cul de sac and immediately peg it as the only rental on the block.

But we put a lot of love and care into it. I built a brick signpost, two flowerbed edgers, a walkway, a pond, an arbor, a wood fence, etc etc. The little house just doesn't look the same. Even the landlord was impressed. It will be hard to move away.

Cause you know what? With two teenagers here full time and fifty more or so that cycle through on a regular basis, House Beautiful isn't going to come do a feature on my home. But that's okay.

Because it's home. And every day I find more ways to make it beautiful. Thanks to all the wonderful people who inspire me. You don't even know who you are, but thanks anyway.

Music, blessed music!

YESTERDAY B and I remembered at the last minute that we had bought season tickets to our local Allied Arts concert series, and that there was a concert that evening. As we were both feeling okay (for the moment), we decided not to miss it. Neither of us knew the band, but we thought we'd take the chance anyway. I am SOO glad we did!

We are both music lovers, although I tend to be very eclectic, and there are just certain genres of music he will not listen to. I will say that he's broadened my horizons even further since I've had the pleasure of knowing him.

Anyway, the band that was playing was the Annie Moses Band, a family orchestra with a heavy string base.

Check them out. I tried to embed the YouTube link, but the html isn't working for me today. Try www.anniemosesband.com.

I missed the chance to buy the CD, but I see that there's a place to do it online. Hope you all enjoy it as much as we did! It was an incredible show.

My vistas have been expanded again.

Every blessed day.

The Singer

So, this is the Singer sewing machine we picked up at Goodwill for a whopping $15. I knew I had a diamond in the rough.

After all the sanding and stripping (someone had dealt with all the little nicks and scratches of time by putting a coat of brown - splotchy - tempera paint over the whole thing), we were left with a beautiful cabinet. We used a couple of coats of stain and many coats of polyurethane to bring back the luster of the really nice woodgrain.

In spots the grain of the wood looks just like a tigers tail. This has turned out to be a beautiful piece of furniture, and I am so tickled to be able to move it back in the house after four weeks of working on it!

Pardon the mess in the background. It's also 'garage rotation time' - the season of the year when we take all the summer stuff (camping equipment, lawn stuff, bikes, etc) back to the storage unit so there is room for the winter stuff to come in, so you're seeing all the mess in transit. :-)

Such is life...

The resident genius

B IS BETTER.

That sentiment alone is worth all caps.

Last night we went on a Red Cross call. House fire. 8 residents. Bad situation, no injuries. Not quite ready to talk about it yet. B took me out to dinner afterward to calm me down. For some reason I've been terribly scattered.

But, I think I've figured out what I want to ultimately do with the china hutch. I'm settled on putting the beadboard on the backside of it. But I found some really cool filigree patterns online today, and am thinking about putting some medallions on the blank sides, and/or possibly the front bottom doors that B is building for me. Not sure yet what design. I'm also planning on trying to put crown molding around the top. After it's done, you won't even know it was a crappy little piece that no one wanted, left to sit out in the rain and rot. It'll be PURRRRRRRRRRRRTY.

Last night after we got home and I was decompressing over a load of laundry, B holed up out in the garage with the dremel tool. Every time I came out he hid something from me. "Go away!"

"Alright, alright..." I laughed. "I'll come back when you're done."

He was out there awfully late. I finished some chores and came back out to find him around 10:30. And there, drying on a piece of newspaper, was a work of art. We finished the sewing machine cabinet but there was a wooden knob missing on the middle drawer. And wouldn't you know it: there wasn't a match to be had, either at Home Depot or Lowe's. What we eventually found were wooden knobs that were slightly larger and flatter than the little round ball ones that were on there originally. We bought two, figuring we could bring them home and file them down to something remotely resembling the other two. After all, they were only .97 cents.

Lo and behold, my beautiful man, my Michelangelo, my spectacularly gifted beloved husband had taken the dremel tool and carved an intricate little design in the face of the knob: trees, a flowing hill, fields. It doesn't match the other knobs, but it will complement them. It will OUTSHINE them. It's beautiful.

This man never ceases to amaze me.

(I know... it was really hard to take a photo of the knob, which was sitting on a tissue, without reflection. He had just finished putting a coat of polyurethane on it, so it was glossy. But you get the idea.) Aren't those little trees just CUTE?

The China Hutch, Part I

Since I flaked out and didn't take a shot of the hutch before I started, here's the unit in the middle stages.

This piece was ugly. I mean, UGLY. When we originally got it, it was sitting outside my dad's shop, and had been rained on a couple of times. I halfheartedly sanded it down then, with the intent of refinishing it, but got sidetracked on something else. I had sanded and stained only the shelves when I decided it was just too much work. (Hey, that was BEFORE the electric sander!) That's the stain color there on the shelves, before I got started sanding them down.

So, the body of the unit was this kind of light wood, which turned out to be laminate. There was a warped and ugly piece of laminate on the back. The first thing I did was pull all of it off and junk it. Once the hutch was stripped down to its base elements, I sanded it down. There were several ugly stains on the tabletop portion of it that I was worried about, so what you see here in this picture is the hutch after its first coat of Kilz primer.

It took two coats of primer to prime most of the unit, and by four coats, the tabletop was still bleeding through on a couple of the stains. We decided to take our chances.
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To be continued.....

PUNKINS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

PILES of pumpkins make me happy. Autumn is such a blessed time of year. The smells, the crisp evenings, the frosty mornings.... We bought pumpkins last night, and tonight is the Night of The Big Carve.

Today B went back to the dentist for a recheck. He's doing much better. He goes in next Monday and has the *other* tooth he's been having problems with pulled. Hopefully the antibiotics will carry him through on that one so he can sail through with no problems. We were definitely through the wringer for the last couple of weeks. I am so thankful that he's feeling so much better.

I called and talked to my mom last night for a while. We were originally thinking of having an end-of-summer bbq at our place, but then B got sick. And it turns out that this weekend is when my dad leaves to go hunting. So, I invited her along on our "Girls Night Out" Friday evening. The girl and her best friend and I had planned to go see "The Secret Life of Bees", and maybe go have some coffee afterward. She was so tickled to be invited that I felt really bad. I should really make the outreach more often.

And in more news, I put another coat of paint on the china hutch last night. I meant to take a 'before' photo, but in all the chaos I forgot. So, tonight I'll try to post the 'in-betweener' photos so you can see the progress. I think it's going to look great.

Must run...

Of love and root canals

B'S been in pain for two straight weeks.

He's been a trouper through two runs of (failed) antibiotics, two episodes with the root canal procedure (one took out three roots and a huge amount of infection, and the second, two days later, took out the fourth hidden root and a massive pus pocket that astounded the entire dental staff. B now has the distinction of being the Worst Root Canal Infection Ever in that office), two walk in clinic visits, two visits to his regular doctor, and three supplemental antibiotic injections. By the time we got up Friday morning, he'd had enough.

"That's it." I said. I took the day off to stay home with him so we could get some answers somewhere, from somebody. The dentist, who doesn't work on Fridays, came in specially to see him, and with one look, sent him on to his doctor's office, fearing that the infection was heading down his throat. We had a hard weekend, to say the least. After the antibiotic shot on Friday at his doctor's office (of Rocephin, which is one of the most painful IM injectables out there), he was ready to curl up and die. We curled up in bed instead, where I draped his ouchy hip with my beanbag thing that I'd heated in the microwave. He's gotten little sleep for the last few weeks, and it seemed like as fatigued as he was, every little noise set him off.

By Saturday morning, he was feeling a little better, so we felt encouraged. He had his second shot on Saturday afternoon, and decided that he was okay enough to skip Sunday's. But by Sunday afternoon, he'd crashed yet again, running a fever. It's like his immune system is just overloaded. To top it all off, the codeine that he's been eating every couple hours is irritating his stomach. It's a loaded game: if he loses his lunch, he loses his PD meds too. And all these pills are getting confusing to keep straight.

At work this morning I got a snippy comment from one of the guys. "Do you EVER work an eight hour day?"

I said "When my family's sick, I work MORE than an eight hour day!" It really hacked me off. My boss has been great; his policy has always been family first, work second. I was not really 'here' in my brain all week long last week, worrying about B at home in pain and running home for my half hour lunch just to check on him. I hope they can be patient just a little longer.

But it does bring up ugly questions. How will we have to rewrite my job description when B eventually can't work any more? When I need to be home for his care? Will there be half time? Flex time? Resentment from coworkers? To think on that too long makes me angry, and I don't need to be angry any more.

This little illness has also brought up several issues between B and I, both in our relationship and in my own psyche. I've known for a long time that I get upset when my significant other is ill. Sometimes that fear comes out as anger. That is an incredibly hard thing to write, and even as I type it I worry how it will sound... how it will be perceived by others who may read these words. I felt some of it towards the end of the week. On Saturday, when B felt a little bit more like his own self, we talked about it, and I apologised for getting snippy with him. He had some really good insights on how fear sometimes comes out as anger. In fact, he's that way with me sometimes. When I wasn't taking my blood sugar, he'd get snippy. We are so much alike... so fearful of losing each other to something stupid.

The other factor was that B has a tendency to pull away from human contact when he's ill or in pain, like a dog crawling away into a hole to die. This upsets me. I want to help. It hurts me when he's hurting... I want to help 'fix' it. It's in my nature. But B's the fourth child in a five child family... there wasn't much coddling when you were ill. He's used to being self-sufficient... resilient... self-denying... a stoic. He was okay with my running back and forth to the pharmacy or to the store for him, but otherwise, he holed up in the garage and pulled away even from my casual touch. By the weekend, it was hurting me, and I finally told him about it. He was surprised. He hadn't noticed that he was doing it.

"I'm just not used to being taken care of," he said. And I know he's right. His ex was of the 'oh just go take an aspirin and hush' variety.

But the implications of this resonate, creating ripples I can't push from my thoughts. Will he continue to pull away when the PD finally catches up with him? Will we spend those days becoming more and more distant as he recedes into himself?

I am tired, it's been a nerve-wracking two weeks, and I'm deep in the throes of the ugliest case of PMS that I've had in a long time. I'd call it depression, but my daughter keeps track of her cycles, and I know that she's cursed me for this week! The Dairy Queen Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Blizzard cravings, five new pimples, and random weeping sessions are the proof. AAAAAAND the extra bra size. Which, even in the throes of tooth pain, B doesn't seem to be complaining about.

So this too shall pass. But the lesson must not.

The marriage counseling industry shall take a (sic) tip from the real estate industry: COMMUNICATION COMMUNICATION COMMUNICATION. Nothing else will do.

Every night I pray for B's pain to go away.

My big fat gourmet potato soup dinner

SO, I was trying to be nice to my poor hurting sweetie tonight and make him some homemade soup, which seems to be all he can eat these days. We found a really good recipe for homemade baked potato soup (with bacon and caramelized onions and cream and stuff). I spent about two hours peeling, chopping and boiling potatoes, onions, garlic etc. Fried up the bacon nice and crispy, lovingly seasoned the soup. It tasted and smelled WONDERFUL. I had just finished some homemade blueberry muffins and set the table when I called everyone to dinner. I heard them all on their way in, so I grabbed the pot of soup and went to set it on a trivet on the table.


At just that moment, Buddy, the little elderly mop-dog, decided that he was going to make his way out of where he'd been sleeping, unseen, under the table. There was a frantic dance, much scrabbling of claws on laminate, and then this:



When my daughter came into the room, I was standing over it with legs aspraddle. Thick, fragrant potato soup was splattered all the way up to my knees. My mouth was hanging open. So was hers. We looked at each other. "Oh, Mommy..." she said, giving me a half-hug, but being careful not to get too close. While we surveyed the disaster, the weiner dog slipped in. One weiner cleanup crew, on the job. Our eyes met again, and we started laughing.


We laughed so hard I thought I might wet myself. I had to go out to tell B that dinner might take a few more minutes, while the girl ran to Burger King for backup. I tried to tell him what had happened, but every time I did I fell victim to the giggle fit.


Judge for yourself. It was howlingly funny. There are some days you just gotta laugh.

Still under the storm clouds

B is home sick today. After days and days of pain from the tooth, he woke up yesterday hurting more than ever. We tried to go to work, but I ended up making him an emergency appointment for the afternoon. After two hours in the chair, they'd drained the abscess and put in a temporary root canal patch, and he's supposed to come back in two weeks. In the meantime, they changed the antibiotic that wasn't working to something different.

I spent an hour in line at the pharmacy, fighting with them. They initially tried to give him something he was allergic to, and then they were too busy to put us through to the front of the line after they realized their mistake. Needless to say, as they were also filling the pain meds for us, I was not happy.

The girl was incredibly sweet last night. She made B some homemade gourmet-style asparagus and brie cream soup. It was wonderful. I think the kids were worried about him.

He got on the Vicodin and we thought it might be better, but he was up and down all night long, as soon as the anaesthetic wore off, in agony. I left him this morning, against my will, with two more Vicodin just beginning to take effect. I hope he can get some sleep.

And I have to be here at work, wondering how he is. This is going to drive me crazy today.

New painting... so excited!

WE are almost done with our furniture refinishing project out in the garage, and B says I can bring the china hutch out soon! The little sewing machine cabinet looks so beautiful and shiny with its first coat of varnish. Tonight will be the second coat, and then I'll take some pictures. Wish I'd taken the 'before' shots.

I am currently working on a new painting, and although it's very different from the last few, it's coming out wonderfully. I can't remember being so excited to run home and get started on a painting. I didn't want to put my brushes down last night to go to bed...

Fall is a time for renewed creativity and productivity for me, but I am just exploding with it this year. Is it the soft warmth of B's approval and encouragement that has me blossoming at such a late stage in my game?

I don't know, but I'm loving it!

Calendula

October 13: Ten Months

A beautiful thought

THIS quote was left on the comment board in response to the article I posted a link to yesterday about spouses who die close together. It moved me. I couldn't have said it more eloquently myself.

That many old lovers follow their longtime partners out of this life is neither surprising nor strange. True love is misconceived and trivialized by the entertainment industry, but it is real: a genuine union of souls, or identities if you will, that grows stronger over time until much of each person is knit up with the other person's essence. ... I am fortunate in having a partner who is deeply a part of me. When someday our bodies become more of a burden than a vehicle, I hope to exit quietly and gracefully with her through the doorway of the unknown, hand in hand and eye to eye as the light fades. — Michael Massey, Dallas

One more

The Spoon Theory

http://www.butyoudontlooksick.com/navigation/BYDLS-TheSpoonTheory.pdf

The article's about lupus, but this is the best description I've ever found for how it feels to live with a chronic disease.

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B spends so many of his spoons on me. I am still, always profoundly thankful.

Three links

TODAY I logged on to find some really neat things in E-land. I had to share them with you.

• An article on MSNBC titled "When it's time for Grandma to stop driving".(http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/27051758/)

This article tackles the sensitive subject of when and how to confiscate the keys from someone who may have become a hazard to themselves or others. For those of us living with our beloved Parkies, there will be some dip into reality at some point in the game, whether they recognise it and cede the driving duties to their loved ones, or whether it has to become the game of 'how to hide the keys from Grandma'. There's a little video attached to the article which promises to be useful, although I was not able to view it from my computer here. One more thing to contend with...

• Another article from MSNBS titled "Never to part: Devoted couples share life; death" (http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/26980587/)

If this article doesn't make you cry, you don't have a heart. I've spoken before in earlier posts about B and I, and this love we share. I do truly believe that God sent us to each other... that we were each the rope for each other that stopped us from circling the cosmic drain. Many times as we spend quiet time, snuggling, hugging, lying silent in the dark waiting for sleep, we are amused to find that our breathing has synced, like a soft stereophonic melody... metronomic. Comforting. But perhaps there is a biological reason for it. This is excerpted from the article (but by no means the most poignant passage. Do go read it for yourself)

"The more spiritually minded believe that the bond between some couples may be so strong that when one soul departs, the other chooses to follow....

...But there may be other forces at play as well. Research shows that in some cases, one person’s heartbeat can affect, even regulate, another’s, possibly acting as a type of life support.

In one such study, Rollin McCraty, research director at the Institute of HeartMath in Boulder Creek, Calif., looked at what happened to six longtime couples' hearts while they slept. Heart-rate monitors revealed that during the night, as the couple slept beside each other, their heart rhythms fell into sync, rising and falling at the same time. When the printouts of their EKGs were placed on top of each other, they looked virtually the same. "

Statistics say that I will be a younger widow, when the time comes. But like Virginia, in the article, crying "Where is Aurlo?" I would be unmoored without my love. Death is a horrible, unthinkable topic filled with a terrible beauty. There is no way I can get my mind around a life without B. There is no romanticism to this story. This is no Romeo and Juliet teenage drama, fraught with sturm und drang. Death is a wonderful gift.. a natural process. A passing over to a place of wonder, of no pain or disability. If you have faith, then you look forward to it - the going home. Is it a small wonder that I can't imagine the thought of wandering here aimlessly after B is gone, trying futilely to darn the gaping hole in my heart that the loss of him would leave, crying "Where is B"? Or instead, lie still like an autumn leaf in the corner, waiting for the wind that would blow me to his side?

• The third neat thing was that I logged onto the blog to find that B's 'other-coast counterpart' had left a really cool comment for me! (http://shaakysworld.blogspot.com/ )

He's the husband of my blog friend Mary (http://lifewithshaky.blogspot.com/), and they both keep informative and insightful blogs about this life with YOPD. I do my best to both blog and email, but life keeps getting in the way somehow. Still, each time I have the pleasure of reading one of their posts I find that they seem to touch on subjects that are both tough and pertinent, with an amazing sense of sensitivity and accuracy. It seems like they, as a couple, are going through this journey in roughly parallel places to where B and I are, with a few minor differences. I can't tell you how relieving it is to be able to hear from someone who is in the same place as you... someone who understands that this life is both the greatest gift we've ever been given, and one of the most challenging things we'll ever tackle. My hat is off to them: parents of young children, activists, devout foster parents, and YOPD strugglers. When I visit my blog to vent and cry and shout with joy and generally try to make sense of it all, these are the people who understand. :-)

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In other news, I asked the Walk-in clinic last night if they issued frequent flyer miles. I had to take the boy in last night for what looked like strep throat (but is being called just a virus, pending the culture). This makes three out of four in our family that has been in to the walk-in clinic over the last week. Three family members... three different diagnoses. One has to wonder what weird and wonderful thing *I'll* be stricken with. Whatever it is, it'll have to hit in the next two days to make it four-for-four. LOL (If I don't get sick, do you think I should buy a lottery ticket??)

I started seeing a massage therapist yesterday evening for my poor crooked neck. I had an old on the job injury from about 2000 (ruptured disc) that has been hurting for about the last six months. I finally got to the point where it's been making me crabby due to all the pain, and the chiropractor isn't cutting it, so I tried the masseuse. She found the spots, all right. There was a lump the size of a walnut in my muscle that she worked on for about half an hour. I still hurt today, just from the work. Three days a week for an hour a day, for a month. We'll see if it works. She did order me to go home and soak in the bathtub for 20 minutes. HA! We laughed about that on the phone today when she called to see how I'd done. She said "Yeah, you're a mother. I figured you wouldn't make that one!" :-D I told her I'd try to do better this week.

Ouch

POOR B is at home today, out sick. He's been down much of the weekend, having some pretty severe jaw pain. We went to the walk in clinic on Sunday (I was sure they were going to issue me their frequent-flier card) and got some antibiotics and codeine for pain. It was still pretty hairy last night. We didn't get a lot of sleep.

I bullied him into going to the dentist this morning. He hasn't seen anyone for a great deal of time. It turns out that he does indeed have an abscess, and worse, there are about four teeth in the same boat. My poor baby...

Thank God we got on it, though. How long has he walked around with this infection circulating around his body? How much of his feeling 'punky' is the PD, and how much is this recurrent, chronic infectuous state? I guess we'll find out.

Until then, he's sleeping. Praise heaven.

A look into the sun

IT'S FUNNY sometimes how life seems to throw you for a loop just when you think things are rolling right along.

Earlier this spring, I bought B and I season passes to the community concert association. We had long been talking about not getting out of the house enough, and thought that it might be a nice diversion. Last night was the first concert of the season. We took care of the household things, got the kids settled with their dinner for their evening home alone, and left early to go out to dinner. We had talked about how we were going to go to the concert all day, and had even made plans to meet some coworkers there. I had my outfit all picked out and laid out on the bed at home, waiting.

Halfway through dinner, B looked at me and said "Are you really vested in going to that concert?" I looked up from my club sandwich, and noticed that he'd really hit the wall.

"Not really." I said. "I was just going as a way to spend more time with you. It doesn't really matter to me where we go, as long as we get to be together." He was relieved, and so was I, in a way. The scheduled performers weren't really either of our cups of tea.

When we got home, the kids were surprised to see us. The girl was on the couch, doing her homework, as she has been every night, to my eternal surprise. She's really been taking her AP classes seriously (advanced placement). This is the first time I've seen straight A's out of either of the kids since fifth grade (more on that later). She looked a little bit flushed.

Earlier that morning she had come to me with a comment that had tweaked my momdar. She said that over the last month, she'd had her 'little visitor' for most all of the month. That didn't sound right to me, so I did a bunch of calling around yesterday. She's in between doctors, and I was ultimately only able to schedule her for an appointment at the end of the month. (Even then, it was with OB/GYN, not the family doctor. We are short doctors at our clinic in a big way, and it's hard to get a slot.) I was in the kitchen writing down the appointment time on the big bulletin board when she came in. "I talked to OB/GYN and got you in." I told her. "They want you to go ahead and keep on your medication, but it will be a few weeks before we can get in to see the doctor."

She started to cry, putting her face in her hands.

My heart hit the floor. "What's up, honey?" I asked her, my hands on her shoulders.

"I don't know." she sobbed. "I just feel so...sick." She folded into my arms, and I felt how hot she was.

I did some gentle prying to determine what she meant by 'sick', and how long, etc, and finally was able to discern that her back had begun to hurt yesterday morning, pretty badly. She had been complaining of feeling sick and tired the day before as well. "High up on your back?" I asked.

A kidney.

"We need to go to walk-in." I told her, and she cried harder. She's needle-phobic, and the last time she had a kidney infection she'd had to have an IV. It was a testimony to how sick she felt that she let me lead her out of the house, sobbing all the way. Rather than go through the room where her brother and friend were, we opted to go through the garage so she wouldn't be embarrassed.

B took one look at her and melted. "I have to take her in. It's her kidney." I told him.

"Oh, honey," he said, gathering her up in an embrace. She cried on his shoulder for a moment, and I watched the tenderness in his hands as he touched her cheek and brushed her hair out of her tears. "You go in and let them take care of you. It will make it all better, soon. Do you want me to come with you too?"

She sniffed and shook her head, and off we went.

An hour later (and no pokes - we turned down the in-office jump start antibiotic shot with the promise that she'd double up on the meds as soon as she got home) we arrived back home, very relieved. I was sorry to have to inform her that she'd probably have many more of these UTIs, being a woman and possessed of a hereditary tendency, but she's learning how to listen to her body so that it doesn't go that far. She got on her antibiotics, ate some dinner, and finished up her homework.

After we went to bed, B and I chatted idly for a while and I talked about what the doctor had said. "Thank heavens we didn't decide to go to the concert." I said. "We would have ended up coming home at 11 rather than 7." Which means, of course, that we would have had an emergency room visit rather than a walk in clinic visit, which would have meant most of the night in a waiting room. The ER never seems to be less than a 4 hour proposition.

He was silent a long time, and finally he said "Thank you for setting me up."

I knew exactly what he meant. I laid there in the darkness and reran the nights events, and that one thing kept looming, jumping out at me. The picture of B, holding my daughter, taking her in and comforting her as naturally as breathing, as if she were his own child sprung forth from his loins. Sure, I had led her out there on purpose. She needed me that night, but more than that, she needed both of us. She needed a mother's comfort, and a father's strong shoulder - that reassurance that everything is going to be all right.

I tried in my stumbling way to explain that to him, to thank him, to tell him how much it had moved me. And all of a sudden, I was overwhelmed, with joy, with gratitude, with the love and the rightness and the disbelief of it all. And a bittersweet touch of sadness, iced with relief. Sadness in the memory that I'd been the same kind of child, wishing and hoping for a daddy but dashed too many times to keep the hope alive for something good. Relief that finally, after all this time of trying to break that cycle, there was a glimmer of hope.. of healing. Something that I could give her so that she didn't have to waste nearly forty years finding someone who would love her unconditionally, profoundly, with no limits.

He rolled over to pull me close, into that sacred and safe place in the crook of his shoulder, and I laughed. "Don't mind me, love." I said. "I seem to be leaking a bit."

I've shed more happy tears in the last year than I have in all my life, and hardly any of the painful ones. Sometimes it's like the kids' A grades - I feel as if I don't want to even breathe, for fear that it will slip away. This life is so incredible. So flawed. So beautiful. So challenging. So blessed. It is all that, all together, at different times more so one than the other. But mostly this life, this love, this wonderful journey is like looking into the sun... so bright that you can't gaze directly at it, but instead bask warmly in its radiant, lifegiving heat.

If life came with a remote there are times that I would live for days on 'pause'.

Yesterday was one of those days.

Diagnosis - unknown?

PAGING Dr. House....

So, after my previous long and rambling post about the EEG, here's what happened.

I went in for my EEG. Thank heaven I escaped the migraine. I did cheat a little - I think I slept 4.5 hours rather than the four I was supposed to. Anyway... I did not drink any coffee, which for me I think is perfectly rational justification for a Purple Heart. B did have some trouble keeping me awake on the trip over there. (I still think it was cruel and unusual to turn the air conditioner on!)

For those who haven't had the pleasure, I got to sit in a little chair while the tech parted my hair and drew little "X"es on my scalp. Then she took a swab and scrubbed each little place with some sort of abrasive cream. "This will feel like wet sandpaper" she said, "because it scrubs off a little bit of your skin so the electrodes have a better grip." It was slightly uncomfortable, but not overwhelmingly so.

Then I got to move over to the machine, where she dabbed the spots with something cold and attached all the little electrodes to the spots she'd marked. After she'd put on the first three or four, I began to become aware that they burned a little bit. "That's the salty solution that we put on the electrodes." She said. I got the concept - the salinity increases the conductivity of the skin for the electrical impulses to be read, but still - darnit, that smarted! When she was done, I felt as if someone had been dripping hot candlewax on my head. She wrapped my whole head in gauze like a trauma patient, and we were off.

I got to lie back down in a reclining chair, and we did some open-your-eyes, close-your-eyes exercises while the machine took its read. The whole test was pretty easy, but the first five minutes was the hardest part. I was to hyperventilate at a prescribed rate for five whole minutes. By two minutes I was near to passing out. Felt like my hair was standing on end and my whole face tingled, particularly around my lips. But I made it to the next part, which consisted of my falling asleep. The end of the test was about five minutes of watching bright flashing lights strobing at different frequencies, to see if they could provoke a seizure.

I'm pleased to report that I did not have a seizure. I left the testing room with an hour to spare before the consultation appointment, so I went to find B. He was out in the waiting room, like the angel he is, waiting patiently. He sat me back down in one of the chairs and produced a Starbuck's iced macchiatto. "Here, sweetie." He said, stroking my sticky hair. "You sit down and get some of this into you." Awwwwww.......

As an aside to the story, can I simply say that I would die for this man? What did I ever do to deserve such an incredible blessing?

He went back into the room for the consultation with me too, since he'd been there for the last episode and could remember more than I could. The neuro wasn't the one he and the girl had been seeing. This guy was really good. He took the time to take a detailed, very thought out history, listened to everything we had to say, and wasn't condescending in the least. I never got the feeling that he had somewhere more important to be. He showed us the EEG, which looked remarkably normal (thank God).

His best hypothesis, given my history, is that this is what's called a complex migraine. I've suffered from migraines all my life, as has my daughter. These times, however, there was no pain. There is something called an ACEPHALGIC migraine, which means you get all the aura without the classic pain. This was not news to me; I've done a lot of research trying to figure out what was wrong with me. What WAS news to me was the rest of the story. The aura pattern with these couple of episodes was very different from my normal aura, with the exception of the narrowing of the field of vision (looks like you're seeing everything from the end of a long tunnel). The aura pattern in these episodes fits the profile of a BASILAR migraine, which is a lovely beast in and of itself. Basilar migraines can be acephalgic as well.

Check it out:

A basilar migraine is also an unusual migraine type but it too can be associated
with dramatic and frightening symptoms. Some of the dramatic symptoms which are
associated with basilar migraine include complete or partial loss of vision,
ringing in the ears, dizziness or spinning sensation and loss of balance.
Blackouts and confusion can also occur. Children or adolescents may be wrongly
accused of being intoxicated because they may stagger or appear confused during
a basilar migraine episode.

And here's what it looks like. Bolded are all the things B witnessed that day at the restaurant, when I had the last episode:

Aura consisting of at least two of the following fully reversible symptoms,
but no motor weakness:

Tongue numbness
Tingling of lips and around mouth
Speech difficulties/slurring (dysarthria)
Vertigo (sense of spinning), dizziness, lightheadedness
Tinnitus (ringing in the ears)
Hypacusia (impaired hearing)
Diplopia (double vision)
Visual symptoms simultaneously in both temporal and
nasal fields of both eyes
Ataxia (incoordination and unsteadiness); clumsiness
Decreased level of consciousness; fainting
Pale skin
Sleepiness
Simultaneously bilateral paresthesias (abnormal or unpleasant sensation often described as numbness or as a prickly, stinging, or burning feeling)
May progress to migraine symptoms: headache (usually behind one eye), aversion
to light (photophobia) , nausea/vomiting

You can see where it would look uncomfortably like a seizure, or even a stroke, if you didn't know it was a migraine. And how would you know it was a migraine, without the pain?

The solution is the downfall. I have to wait and see. If I have another, I'm supposed to take a migraine drug to interrupt it. If it works, it's definitely a complex migraine with basilar features. If it doesn't, I'm to go to the ER, because there are several bad things that have similar symptoms. If I have more of them, then they want to put me on antiseizure medication. And we all hope it never happens while I'm driving.

So there it is. Hopefully an answer, and a workable solution. At least there's the relief that I've had the test now and it isn't something terrible like epilepsy. There's a comfort in having a clean bill of brain health.

And now I'm one up on B - he's never had an EEG. LOL.

My beautiful, beloved, incredible man. Thank heavens he's here... and that I don't have to make him worry anymore.

Red lipstick and a pair of killer heels

EVER had one of those days where you wake up in the morning and you just *know* that it's going to be one of those days? The kind that's going to keep you on your toes, at the top of your game, rolling with the big dogs? I just had that intuition this morning. So, instead of the normal jeans-and-layered-work-blouses that I normally throw on, I did it up right. Pencil skirt, nice blouse, and a pair of killer high heels.

____________________________________________________

I ran across them innocently sometime last week. I was blindsided. I wasn't out looking for love. I mean, I have fifteen pairs of shoes. I'm a committed lady.

There I was, schlepping around in my beloved and comfy pair of skater shoes, just walking by. I had to take the girls around town to find them some shoes to go with their Homecoming dresses, so we'd stopped at Payless Shoe Source. Oh, I should have resisted the temptation to step into that den of iniquity!

And there, on an endcap, they were. Three inches high and full of glory, thrusting their pointy toes out proudly.. boldly. The little hussies. It wasn't enough that they had those pretty peep toes, oh no. They had to flaunt their little skinny Mary Jane straps too. Right there in plain daylight.

I was lambasted. Hooked. Seduced. I tell you, it wasn't my fault.

I thought to myself "I'm just here to buy shoes for the girls." But they kept calling to me. I found myself running a hand over them, caressing them.

"I don't need any more shoes." Picked them up, felt their featherweight in my hands, saw how the glossy black patent heels flickered in the flourescent light.

"I'll just try them on...."

O, famous last words. Slipping into those heels was like coming home. My tennies looked up at me from the floor, tongues agape, scandalized. And there I was, just like that. Like a fish on the line, I handed over my little pink debit card in a rosy glow, eager to take those sweet little shoes home and make them mine.

Thank God I have an understanding husband.

BOGO is the tool of the devil.

In all fairness, I passed by several more pairs that called my name, but I did have the willpower to walk on by.

Could you resist?

And thank heaven Target was out of THIS pair that I saw online.

But, you know, this morning, I just felt the need to wrangle my pretties out of the closet and dress to the nines. Some days I wear my 'mom' hat. Other days I wear my 'construction inspector' hat. Today, I needed to wear my 'confident successful career woman' hat. Or make that, SHOES.

And it paid off. This morning after I answered three emails and a phone call, halfway into my first cup of coffee, I was called up to the front desk to talk down a disgruntled contractor. 6' something, built like a buffalo, he was trying to intimidate, but darnit, the shoes were speaking to me.

'Don't back down' they whispered.

I'm pleased to say he left without what he came for, which was the thought that he could come in and browbeat me into agreeing to something we both knew was against the rules, just so he could say later that I told him he could do it. Ah, NO. The killer high heels kept my back like steel, and I listened as the red lipstick said "Bring me in a design that works, and I'll approve it, but you won't be working until you have my approval." Thank him for his time, pivot on that heel, and stride away. Snap.

Wowza.

I never understood the shoe fetish before, but I seem to have fallen in its sway. There's a reason they say 'clothes make the (wo)man'. There's a sense of power in dressing nicely. An authority. The clothes come before you, making an impression that says 'I don't have to lie down for you'. I have always struggled with assertiveness, but when I put on a natty blazer, pressed slacks, and a pair of heels, I become another woman. And I like her, a lot.

A couple of nights ago my son tried on the outfit that he will be wearing to the dance. He looked at himself in the mirror up and down. Finally he said "Wow. These clothes really make me feel good. I look like somebody." I looke at him too, and underneath the floppy black emo hairstyle and the acne, I saw a thirty year old man, confident, stylish, assertive. Lean jawed and authoritative, he looked like a man to be reckoned with, a man who commanded respect.

I told him to remember that feeling, and hold on to it whenever he felt like taking the low road. In that moment, he had seen what his future could be, and he liked it. I liked it too.

I understand how he feels.