“Missy” is now 11 weeks old. She is a wheat and black Cairn Terrier. She loves my shoes. My shoes do not reciprocate, but the cuteness factor overrides any retribution.
September 6, 2008
Posted by Marti @ August 19, 2008
Stupid Morning
I hope your day is going better than mine, which has been a pain in the….hand.
Up before the crack of dawn, Husband and I load ourselves into the car. I unlatch the keys from the hook on my purse and promptly drop them. They fall under the passenger seat.
A smart person would get out, walk around and open the passenger door and reach under the seat to retrieve them. Plenty of room, even with someone in the seat.
I…am not a smart person.
I chose to squeeze my hand into the narrow space between the console and the seat. Was a little difficult but I felt the keys and grasped them.
Then I tried to pull my hand out.
Nope, it wasn’t happenin’.
I thought, “OK, if I fling the keys forward, I can flatten my hand out and remove it.”
Ha.
Keys flung, hand still stuck.
I realize that it is Husband’s weight on the seat that is pressing my now-turning-blue appendage so snugly that it prevents proper pullage. (I know that’s not a word, just go with me here).
So I asked him to raise up. Not easy for a man who suffered a stroke three months ago. His raisage (I know, I know) was intense, but brief. But in the spirit of freeing his damsel in distress, he repeated the effort. He lifted himself up multiple times. (My hero!)
Finally on the third or fourth bounce, I was able to pull my hand free. Skinned my knuckles a little bit, but got my hand out, retrieved the keys and started the car.
Thank gawd we don’t have any neighbors who could have seen us, me bent over, him bouncing up and down…..
:-)
Cheers to all!
August 5, 2008
Onions In My Underpants
The road to recovery from a stroke can be rough at times, especially if you have onions in your underpants.
Let me explain….
Husband has been out of the hospital for seven weeks now. He returned to work last week. I want to thank all of you for your thoughts and prayers, it really helped us through this very difficult time.
Part of his therapy is to walk every day. He is doing very well - when he was discharged he was in a wheelchair, then progressed to a walker, and is now using a cane. A very spiffy cane, that looks just like the one on “House” with flame decals on it.
We go to a city park with a nice walking trail to exercise and strengthen his leg. Sometimes we take a sandwich to eat before beginning our hike around the lake.
The sandwich we took one day was on an onion bun, with lots of onion bits on top. After we ate, I made a quick trip to the park potty because we’d also taken a big jug of water, and it’s a long walk. I’d left Husband sitting in the car in the sun so I was hurrying. I noticed onion bits on my T shirt as I was relieving myself, but since I was in a hurry, I just brushed them off as I sat there, then pulled my pants up and scurried out.
We started our walk on the trail around the small lake, and I noticed a peculiar feeling in my nether regions. But I was holding Husband’s “assist” belt, a big webbed belt he has to wear around his chest for someone (me) to hold onto in case he stumbles, so I couldn’t just hike back to the restroom. The farther we walked, the more uncomfortable it became, and by the time we got back to the car, my hoo-ha felt like it was on fire. Tears were streaming down my face.
I dashed back into the bathroom and yanked my panties down. The crotch was full of onion bits. Worst of all, they were wedged into my unmentionable places. Never before have I wished that a park restroom had a bidet, but that day I did.
Let me tell you, if you think onions near your eyes make you cry….
:-)
July 29, 2008
Today is Marti’s Birthday
June 30, 2008
Welcome to Hell
The oversize hand basket screeched to a halt at the fiery cavern’s entrance. A tall thin man in a snakeskin jacket (made of real snakes) greeted me.
“Hello Marti! Welcome to Hell!”
“Oh, hey Satan, how’s tricks?”
“Wonderful! I love the American political season. So much opportunity for mischief! But I brought you here to talk about you. How are things…hmmm?”
“Well, I gotta give you credit. You have done a real number on me. Been taking care of grandma with her Parkinson’s for more than a year now. Just got the girl through high school, with all the prom and graduation hoopla. She’s not out even a month when you give Husband a stroke. Good one, Lucifer.”
“Oh thank you! I love kudos. So why haven’t I heard from you? Many people in your situation call on me, you know.”
“Nah, I’m hanging in there.”
“But I’ve forced you to live at your mother-in-law’s house! That one works almost every time!”
“Nope. Actually it’s easier to take care of both of them in the same house, especially since hers is all on one level and already has safety bars in the bathroom.”
“Please don’t tell me you’re enjoying your time there or I will hurl.”
“I’m just hangin’ in, that’s what I do.”
“Isn’t the noise getting to you? I enticed dozens of teenagers to hot rod up and down her street at all hours of the night. And I got 100 gremlins to work on the next-door neighbor’s air conditioner compressor, so that it rattles and roars like an airplane engine. Surely that is annoying you!”
“I just moved down to sleep on the floor. It gives hubby more room to sprawl in the bed, and it got my head away from the wall where the sound came in.”
“But what about the late-night call you got from your son? I caused his car to overheat on the freeway and you had to go rescue him. Wasn’t that enough to make you at least consider…?”
“Sorry, Beelzebub, not interested. Husband is still seeing improvement, getting more movement back. Daughter is learning responsibility by having to take care of herself more. I have faith that things will get better.”
“Damn you!”
“I think you’ve already tried that. I need to be gettin’ back now.”
“AAARRRGH! Be gone with you!”
“Okie dokie. See ya.”
“Oh you can count on it, my dear. You can count on it.”
