Dream of Consciousness

Where's the remote?

2012-01-23T09:21:00.000-05:00

Well, well, well. Hit me in the head with a laser mouse if I’m the last to notice this but I am seeing mainstream news is now more focused on the internet than ever. I used to utilize the internet for news updates. Now I can go to the news for an internet update. All I need to know about the latest "viral" videos. *wide eyed reporter* "Over 10 million hits in 6 hours, Ya gotta see this!". Really? Do I? Because .5 million people clicked 20 times on a silly/heartfelt/remarkable video, you gotta take up valuable newstime on this? Shows like Tosh.0 and Ridiculousness overfill this gap. If not prone to these types of shows then I/you/we/everybody will see it on twitter/facebook/accidental google search. It will be shoved down our face on our home page, our email news/any inbox we own and then endorsed/debunked through numerous other sites.

Can you save the time I cordon off for "news" for things that I might not have heard? Can you get off your duff and go talk to people about real things and by people I mean REAL people not just fringe stereotypes.

Thank you.

What it's all about

2011-12-30T08:17:00.002-05:00

Weather

...doesn't feel like it should. Temperatures are approaching record highs and while the trend of wearing cowboy/work boots with shorts is soaring at the mall, I will only attempt that look around the house. Folks 'round here are grumbling about not being in the shopping mood due to strange weather patterns. Yea whatever. I am glad to be working in these conditions, it is less tiring than shivering all day.

Holidays

...have been awesome. Three straight days of family gatherings, and so much more special with Gbaby to spoil. She was quite entertaining! The unexpected hit at one gathering was the HexBug NanoBot... If you have small pets or children they are a hoot! Not even sure what they were but they both frightened and delighted Gbaby and when she tried to express such, it was hilarious! She was everywhere all the time, proven below.

THAT WAS FUN! Dad shota pano with each of us holding Dylan and this is what he was able to produce, called 'Follow the Bouncing Baby'. It was a hurried frenzied thing and she got a little antsy and probably confused as she was lierally tossed from lap to lap. Dad says he will figure a way to get everybody next year, but i think it works better like this.

Family

.... is who ya make it, and then some. Dad recently found his birth mother that we have been looking for since the early nineties. When I joined the matrix in '94 I added him to an adoption website, but that was just the start. I dont think we got many hits from that but it stirred an interest to look harder. There was a missed opportunity to have a search doen through the Catholic Diocese in New York, a missed clue on the final adoption decree, and a misspelling of a married name that slowed the process over the years but when things started in that week before Nov. 20, they snowballed quickly and the puzzle filled itself in and suddenly he was 4 siblings and a birth mother richer!(I had given up years ago believing she was still alive, citing average life expectancy)

One of those sibings found their way to the middle of the Piedmont on Christmas eve and what a delight to meet family you did not know you had. There was resemblance and questions and staring and more questions. We left dad to visit with his half brother, which he did through the next day! Turns out that there are too many similarities to list between dad and his BM, besides looking dramatically like her, their interests throughout their life are spot-on. Photography, flying, science...... Yea I want to meet her. She is touched with alzheimers but confirmed quickly his birth and family is timid to press the issue as it makes her defensive. Still, one day... maybe just to see her.... would be awesome!

All in all, it was a beautiful holiday and back to hunting this weekend, only a few more weekends left before season is out and I gotta bag something for the freezer!

2011-12-01T09:12:00.001-05:00

Back again to update life as it races by. It is not surprising that I have little time to document life as I am so busy living it!

Winter is close, though, so more time indoors means more time for writing.

It was another awesome summer, catfish were not huge but we found them wherever we went, and aside from the drama of having our tree lines being cut and stolen right out from under our noses, it was quite fun.
Actually that was fun, having the thieves busted at the boat ramp as they tried to make off with all of our lines and quality hooks. We got everything back and taught two young men a lesson about life and the river.

There was an impromptu run to the beach where * sigh * a question was popped. It followed the ring by 4 months. No date yet, just happy.

When summer had had enough of us, it was time to prep the Hunt Camp for occupancy. There was bush hogging, harrowing and planting to get done. There’s also the rearranging of stands and feeders ( it is legal to feed deer here) There were campers to clean out and wood and water to haul. All of this was to be completed by opening day eve. In the midst of a weekend outing (9/11 to be exact) to improve a wooden stand, in the middle of 500 acres my KISA (Knight in Shining Armor) experienced some profuse sweating and weakness. It took about one full minute for me to realize he was in trouble. It WAS hot out, but he was talking funny. I was blessed to have one other soul there who had just ridden off. I called him back and with his help moved dead weight from drivers side to passenger side and drove light speed to Eroom on phone with dispatchers giving info as we approached.

He was conscious enough to hear what I heard. "You are having an acute heart attack."

Dejavu.

Yes I have been here before so I shakily kick it into gear calling family and filling out forms, " maam are you his wife?" I reply yes, out of earshot of him. While I am whisked off to answer a million questions he is being treated w the full force of the whole hospital, small in a small town. Closest heart center 40 miles out. Life-flight or get him stable?? WTH? IDK! So we go to get his opinion to find them trying to calm him as he is proclaiming " Where is she? She’s not my wife but will make all my decisions, write that down now!" And my cover was blown. In these days of HIPA he was terrified that they would shut me out, but they were very understanding and relayed this to heart hospital. He received 3 stents and is recovering well. One month off of work just gave him more time to get camp ready. New rule says he cannot be at camp alone.

Opening weekend offered an 8 pt to the household. It was magically turned into smoked sausage. I saw nothing until two weeks ago when I let a spike walk. Here he is walking….

　

And my pseudo step-son shot it. Dammit. Keep in mind that hunting, for this household, is a lifestyle. Every stop at martmall starts and ends in sporting goods. There is a reason to stop by some super sporting center once a month. And every weekend plus the week of Thanksgiving are spent at the camp.

I love it. I embrace the 35 footer (it’s a year older than it is long but well maintained), the camp stories, the way I look in camo.

I have not actually physically cleaned a deer, more like offer support and gloves. It’s just that he’s so fast and efficient. I will however do a European mount on anything I am lucky to bag this year. Stepson tried it out and with my internet research, it was a semi success.

　

I have sat somewhere around 60 hours in various stands. This is the reason I keep going out there.

And this.....

I begged enough and got Minime in a stand with me (her better half was more than glad to stay w Gbaby). We saw nothing.
　
　
This hawk teases me about every other weekend.

　

　

　

I hope to have more hunting stories soon!

　

　

　

　

　

　

　

Hello.....again.

2011-07-12T13:54:00.000-04:00

After almost a year and a half hiatus I am back to document life, now for slightly different reasons. When here before I was a busy household hiding here for comfort now and again (who am I kidding? I was addicted for more than a minute.) I return, a grandmother who in a whirlwind, drastically changed life for the good and is intent on sharing the stories.
The change was domestic, social, geographic and mind altering.
Divorced and in a new relationship, I now LIVE!
It was intiated by simple words...."Life doesn't have to be so hard." These words, at first whispered were eventually written in stone. The phrase insisted on possibilities that had seemed lost. It suddenly seemed possible to change my reality. As a student of Jonathan Livingston I was determined to question my boundaries.
Since MiniMe was living her life between full time school, work and parenting classes and young daredevil was spending all free weekends with his gf, I had much time on my hands. I tired of being THE ROCK. I tired of spinning my wheels emotionally and financially and finally asked myself did "In sickness and In health" include MENTAL health. Just short of a commital (mine or his), I chose divorce. Hard and fast, had pussyfooted around for too long. Raising my children in a longterm rented country home, i truly had no ties and up and moved out a month after my last post here. I relocated a little over an hour south, coming home to farmland and big water within earshot.
I have made many memories in this short time. Gbaby will be ONE YEAR OLD this coming Wed.

I shot my first deer this past Thanksgiving morning, a three point thankyaverymuch.

I have seen rabbits bagged and pulled monster catfish from the river. Who thought I could ever enjoy dove hunting as I have hand raised several types of birds? Conflict was resolved by wrapping in bacon and grilling til done.
The vegetable garden from my childhood came to life as did flower beds and herbs.
Still can't wipe the smile off of my face.
Every day is an adventure even the days 5/7 that i drive the hour north to work. The route is beautiful, I am a reincarnated farmer. I encounter the Bee people a time or two as they maintained hives for massive pollenation efforts. The symmetry of the fields and their constant changing colors soothes me and I usually arrive home completely decompressed from the day.
Those days. They haven't changed much, relaxed slightly but still same old politics that I won't play so I avoid and am avoided, pretty much left to do my job. Yay.

I am back to leave treasures for Gbaby by sharing the fun and hard work that is my life now.
I will return to detail some highlights of this experience, from the childrens' "How can you leave OUR home?" to the six month move out of the monster schoolhouse to the drastic change in environment or how I turned the focus from pushing everyone else to do their best to demand more FOR myself.

Welcome to Doll Land

2010-02-18T05:37:00.000-05:00

My mother's latest creations! Precious, No?

Many other dolls of all shapes and types, always with the hand painted faces.

One of these will be perfect for my.... first... (cough cough)....grandchild.

Yea.There it is. My daughter is pregnant. Which is not the same as me becoming a grandmother mind you. And, as if on cue, the three gray hairs in my temple that I had been successfully plucking/covering with mascara for several years suddenly became a 3" patch.

Second year college student with so much ahead of her, attacking it head on, working more than part time and full time school. I would not have chosen this for her, of course, but it is what it is. I have had weeks for it to sink in, can you tell? She is 17 weeks, so I better get busy crocheting something.

Hearts and Flowers for my Friends

2010-02-13T10:02:00.000-05:00

I see a canvas out there.

Tie dye the world!!

But seriously, this is insane. Three + inches in most areas south to Valdosta. Snow in Savannah?? I don't think we came inside until dark and even then went back out every hour or so to revel in the awesomeness!

Old Man Mac

2009-12-28T21:26:00.002-05:00

With everything buzzing around in my head to write about, I get overwhelmed and don't write at all, but when mother asked me to write about Mac for a book that was being put together I knew I had to find the discipline to do it.

"The Man Who Shot the Tractor and Other Stories from Wayside" is being written by Mac's widow, who's age I can't quote but must be late 70's. She only recently "retired" from her post as activities coordinator at a local nursing home, I hear she still goes in two days a week! An icon in her own right: a former teacher, clogging afficiando, a pianist, event coordinator, she is pressing those of us who knew her beloved Mac to write of our experiences with him. I spent more time with Mac than my own grandfather, Loved them equally but Papa worked running his construction company during this time.

Mac was a tree farmer in my lifetime. He owned so much land that we would drive around all day and not see all of it. Between 14 and 17 years old I worked summers and weekends around his farm and sawmill, riding tractors, picking blueberries, muscadines and other veggies. Some days were hard and we were glad to see mac drive up at lunch to take us for "belly washers". On extremely hot days, he would knock us off early and head to the creek to swim for a while to cool off. Some days it seemed he had forgotten us, but would always be there eventually. I worked with other neighborhood boys, all older and in college by then, who we called "Mac's boy's". I LOVED working with them. Mainly because it was as close to boys as I was allowed to get. I worked hard and according to Mac they worked harder when I was around. I remember once Mac came to get me one Sat morning and told me "Go get your swimsuit, we going to the creek later on." So I ran back and put on my suit and work clothes and we took off to the sawmill. Upon arrival, the mill in is full swing, Mac's boys working hard. Mac tells me I got an easy job this day.... taking lemonade to his boys. I remember being slightly miffed to haved to stand around and hand out lemonade since i usually stacked lumber or rolled logs, but I played along. Turns out Mac knew what he was doing as they finished early that day and we all went to the creek.

Not every day was all work. Some days we would ride around and see various people in the neighborhood. He would check in on a widow, drop off some homemade goods to a friend, and deliver garden goods to another each time waving off the thank you he would always receive. There was some weird rule that you just didn't thank Mac. One did not dare mention a need of something within earshot of Mac, or one would find it literally on the doorstep upon arriving home. Once he pulled right up into "Big O Ranch", Otis Redding's home here in Round Oak and we strolled up to Mrs. Zelma Redding for a chat about something. I was in awe.

Somehow he would fit in collecting used eye glasses and selling brooms to raise money for the Lion's Club that he so loved, all the while managing his trees.

I will not forget the lunches, with an occasional treat of fried okra or peanut brittle that he would just whip up in a cast iron skillet. I still call Mom for his best recipes. Fall would always bring the question of "When is Mac's squirrel stew?", which was probably always on opening weekend, since it was he that would host a gathering for all the out of town hunters that came to hunt on his land. These were cool evenings with a bonfire, music, clogging and of course stew. For several of these events I was blessed to have helped cook the stew out behind his house over a fire. It was no secret that stew consisted of whatever was in the freezer from that year... rabbit, squirrel, possum and all the tomatoes and potatos you could fit in that huge cast iron pot.

When there came a time that I took clogging lessons at the Lion's Club, Mac was there. A Lion's Club lifer that would open the buiding for clogging classes and the like. He would be found in the corner with his bag of gum to hand out while watching the ladies dance. While other husbands might not be caught dead up there, Mac was no fool.

Mac taught me about a little about trees, muscadines and tractors and even sparked my interest in welding for high school shop and beyond ;) but he taught me more about friends, family and community and that might have made him as happy as my knowing the difference between a paper oak and a water oak.

Lunchtime Tie Dye

2009-12-15T20:01:00.001-05:00

I don't normally break out the tie dye mess in the middle of winter, but a special request was made and since it was small scale, I decided to do it.
My mom called and as usual, wanted to suggest a gift for my father. It seems he liked the "do-rags" (tie dyed bandanas) I had made Mom for her hairless phase and had adopted them. She advised that since he disliked using "old man white" hankies, I could tie dye some special for him.
I bought a pack of 12 and sat up late one night folding and tying, so I could dye at work during lunch the next day. It was fun working on such a small scale, much less mess. And as with every experience, I learn something new.

The result is Tie Dyed Office!!

Exposure Rocks!

2009-11-16T05:31:00.002-05:00

Three weeks ago it seems the phone started ringing with requests for the mister to sing/play with various new groups around the area and even a band he used to play with years ago. Since he has been feeling somewhat better, he has taken every opportunity offered. It seems that his morale is improving with every gig. He was invited last week to the local *insert large furry animal with antlers* lodge to meet/jam with the house act.

We were there as guests of the "band" which turned out to be an act similar to David's- one guy with backing tracks- except with about $5000 worth of equip incl BOSE speakers that fit behind the seat of his truck!! There were maybe 10 folks in the bar, ~25 in the ?ballroom? and yes, I was the youngest one there. As we got acquainted in the bar area I looked around and tried to imagine how old all these fellas might have been when Gramma & Papa were members.
I tried to imagine it a different time, like when G & P would go, which seemed like alot. I remember when I was a young child seeing Gramma in fancy pleated skirts, shiny jewelry and perfect hair leaving to go dancing. Of course they never said that. It was just "We are going to the Lodge." As I got a l little older, I can remember Pop saying they were going to "Paint the town red". As i got even older it became evident what they were doing, it was DANCING!
Tonight, I saw them. I know not them exactly, but in that atmosphere. There were three couples that danced every song, including 'Up On the roof', 'Pink cadillac', and even a Kid Rock song. One couple in particular was trained. I mean they paid money to learn to dance like that. They took the floor first song, David asked me if I wanted to dance and I was appalled at the thought. No Way, I said. For one thing we would get run over by them, they were waltzing, shagging and foxtrotting and some things I dont even know and had never seen. He was as ?elegant? as her, I would have placed them between 60 & 65. OMG they did not stop except for a glass of wine. They swapped partners often, seeming to be teaching some. They line danced. How did I not ever learn that?
At some point the inevitable happened, a man came to us and asked were we guests and musicians, we said yes. He introduced himself (my mind drifted to local businesses with that name...) and asked if we knew any Lodge members and we said no. He was nice and of course said we should consider filling out an application. He returned with two. He, too danced the night away with his wife ( I highly suspect highly botoxed, i put them late 60's and Jack Lalane fit!) I look around and see mostly they all are. Trim and fit that is. I mean there was still arm flappage, hell I contribute to that, but the calves on these ladies were enviable!

[So me thinks here that this is either some weird *recall furry animal name* cult where they stay youthful draining the blood of young inductees OR maybe it's just that they dance their arses off 2-3 nights a week!!! Putting 2 + 2 together, I shall surf the net for ballroom lessons I can find for free. Plenty of room in the back room to practice.]

David was called up to sing several songs and they seemed to loove the new blood. He sang Sweet Melissa, Margaritaville and a few others.

We also had a friend sitting in with a house band at a club adjacent to the Lodge. Fortunate coincidence . We wandered there eventually and he took the joint over for a few songs. We saw some old friends and made some new ones. Overall it was a very productive night!

Smashing Pumpkins

2009-11-09T21:56:00.010-05:00

I am behind on blogging but I wanted to write about Halloweek and years past.

It is usually a busy week with a day or two for costume compilation, a day for the pumpkin, another for the pumpkin pies. I was the mom that would NOT buy a costume. EVER. My mom had always made mine, and I vowed I would do the same. I can remember so many evenings spent hot glueing, stapling, sewing, painting, stuffing, ironing and pinning our way to first place costumes.

I should dig out the photos of the wee ones as Little Miss Muffett and her Spider, or the next year as a large sunflower and bumblebee (utilzing same frame as spider for the boy). There was the year I rallied at the last minute for Carrie and in a fit, threw her to the floor on top of a doubled up white sheet, and forgetting everything my mama taught me about sewing, cut around her body, sewed it up and proceeded to dye large dots with food coloring. When it dried and she stepped in !voila! a clown! It rained that afternoon and one of the activities at the local
party included diving in the abundant fall leaves to find prizes. The leaves were fairly wet and by the end of the night so was she. When we got home and she stripped down, she was at first horrified then amused that (because i had cheated and used food coloring) SHE was covered in colorful dots. I regret not taking THAT picture. Mom would sometimes help with costumes and one year she came up with Mickey Mouse (The Apprentice) and the Sorcerer. Then there was the time we tried latex. Worked great. Latex remover, another story. She was a gypsy hag among pricesses and ballerinas and walked away with first place but slept in her make up.

Young master graduated to boyish scary things that were easy to do and I would always result to turning a black shirt into cat ears and tail for myself.
During all of this we would squeeze a pumpkin in somewhere,along with home made pies.
THIS year there were no children to dress and I was sick almost the entire week. I was NOT in a Haloweeny mood. I did muster the strength to carve a pumpkin on Wednesday evening and 2 pies on Thursday night.
Interesting that, since there were no competing ideas for the pumpkin, I carved what I wanted:

When mini-masculine (now living with his father) visited on the weekend, he did get to enjoy a time honored family tradition of diposing of pumpkin. This non-event was executed expertly and we watched happily as it carved an arc in the sky just before exploding in the pasture behind the house.

Memories........ I'll take 'em where I can get 'em.

42 & a New 'Do

2009-10-12T06:19:00.008-04:00

Strange breeze on my neck.
Reaching for that which is not there.
"It was time." they said.
Silent tears and clenched fists.
"But look, hon" he said as he spun me around.
Audible gasp. (Is that a desperate house wife looking back?)
It is 42. I see it, embrace it and smile.
Everything is ok.

Yeah, it was time. That translates to "Can't you do something with that mop?". I have favored shoulder length or longer hair since age 13. I fully did NOT intend on lightening my load to this degree. And even though I clearly stated to at least leave me a ponytail, he seemed to know better. I guess that's what I pay him for, albeit it only once a year or more.

Combine this new do with the contacts (first timer) replacing glasses and I feel like a new person!

The birthday party was a blast. I ended up dyeing 6 sheets in all.

My husband reaaaaaaaally loves me because he went out of his way to find the exact Leatherman tool to replace one I lost recently. I love it!!

So far 42 doesn't stink too bad.

Once I get started....

2009-10-09T06:49:00.007-04:00

I just can't stop.

Since last weekend the chance of rain for this Sat has increased everyday so we decided to commit to being indoors.
I must explain that our house is close to 100 yrs old, and was constructed as a school. We actively live in the front half (2 large bedrooms and music studio that is our bedroom). The back half of the house which was the auditorium, lunchroom, lecture hall has been used for years for storage by our landlord's family. Over the years I have consolidated the crap to give us ingress and egress through the back of the house. I took this a little further and decided to clean half of it for our gathering.
I then decided that I needed to cover the walls that show some peeling plaster, some boarded up windows, some bare plaster backing.
With help from a friend, and one busted toe & one sliced finger later we seemed to be successful at clearing the floor and covering the walls.
Let it rain!

Just call me the Okra Queen

2009-09-16T18:48:00.005-04:00

Let me preface this by saying I haven't had a vegetable garden in 10 years. Well, I tried the first year we were here in this house, but had very little luck in the location i chose. This year, i borrowed a dear friends tiller and thought I would till a small plot for tomatoes. He also has a garden every year, but incessantly battles deer and rabbits.
I chose to plant tomatoes, okra, bell peppers, zuchinni, green beans,cucumbers, crook neck and butternut squash. While he battled deer i was blasted with butternut, bowled over by green beans and have now been overwhelmed by okra. I lost the cucumbers to a heat wave while we were confined to the hospital and my tomatoes were destroyed by the large green tomato worm.
I was, however, treated to a "volunteer" tomato plant that is just now starting to produce. Honestly, how do you get a volunteer tomato where you have NEVER had a garden in that location?? I figure it came from eating hamburgers adorned with tomatoes during many of the times we have grilled and eaten in that general area.
Back to the okra! It is quite prolific, over head high and with the frequent rain showers I have had to cut EVERY DAY, a meals worth at a time. The Mountaineer White Half Runners ( green beans) are doing the same.

We have eaten enough for the year and given away more, so the next weeks haul will go to the freezer dusted with cornmeal and ready to fry (the heart smart way, of course, in several tablespoons of olive oil) with just a little left whole for stews.

While I praise the okra, beautiful bloom, blah blah blah, I cannot NOT mention the horror of picking it. I should have included a pic of how one must dress to accomplish this task. I usually go at it right after work while still in jeans and I have a longsleeved shirt by the back door (my okra shirt) to protect the arms. Too much contact with the leaves of the plants can cause extreme itching that only a cool shower can calm. Even more of a challenge, I contend with ants swarming the unopened blooms that don't seem to be hurting the plants or production. I picked an hour ago and am still finding ants.

I understand okra originated in Africa and came to America via slave trade but is enjoyed by many cultures mostly in stews. The frying part, well that's mostly a southern thang, i reckon.

I would be glad to share!

I'm tired.......

2009-08-19T08:06:00.003-04:00

Not that i belong to the oldest profession, unless you consider being a dedicated wife the oldest profession. Wifely duties sometimes require us to "prostitute" ourselves to get what we need. This could be as simple as as the batting of eyelashes or pushing out the chest (some of us more than others) if it will get what ever need. Doesn't work well with nurses but try it next time when the old man behind the pharmacy counter is giving you flack..........
Let's face it, I am tired......

Keep on the Sunny Side

2009-08-07T21:37:00.006-04:00

The sunny side is that, since i have been laid off ("temporarily"), I will have plenty of time to take care of ailing hubby. Thursday night he was rushed by ambulance to Luce Heart Center with very high blood pressure and chest pains. After much consideration it has been determined that he will have a defibrillator/pacemaker implanted. Although I can TYPE "implanted", I keep saying installed, as in "We installed pipe and slope mat today."

Yes, I should be sleeping, but I am just about to search out this thing they are going to put in my husband.......

I searched these out and they made me feel much better.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lY12Q-foRRc

I loved this movie for Turturro. Seriously.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tlHbjEHWLek

Spontaneity Vs. Common Sense

2009-08-04T17:24:00.003-04:00

Seeing as I am someone who has issues with putting socks on standing up, and has even been accused of being dyspraxic, you would think I would learn to say NO to the river, but I can't.
Although I did protest and rant about being the bread winner and making good decisions, all the while I was leaping from slippery rock to moss covered rock and even had to scale 6' up and down over head gates to get to the desired location of 'below the dam'. Turns out that I developed confidence on the way TO that was overwhelming on the way back. Upon trying to pull myself up the 6' concrete wall, my right shoulder gave way and I heard a simple pop. I did not make a big deal about it.

We reveled in how brave we were and young we still are and went home to sleep hard.

When I awoke Monday morning, my first thought was "who is stabbing me??". When I gained full conciousness I was overwhelmed with the thought that I might have REALLY done it this time. My right shoulder screamed for relief and no amount of pulling, twisting or movement could give me less pain. I found the boys arm sling and put it on foolishly expecting immediate relief. Not so lucky.
Commenced the ride to work, inadvertently honking the horn every time I operated the gear shift with my left hand, took off the arm sling to avoid all ribbing at the office check in, then continued to the project. I should have put a sign on my forehead to avoid retelling the story all day, and finally found a place to hide out for the rest of the day. I awoke in the same shape this morning and had to make a hard decision: tough it out at work or admit my foolishness and go get x-rays.........
I have now just returned from the doc-in-a-box who advised after x-rays that it is probably a torn rotator cuff.

ARGHHHHHHHH!

He advised that to save money, I wait a week to do the MRI. judging the need on pain levels(which are now diminished thanks to NSAIDS, a butt shot and small doses of narcotics-wheeeeee!).

Is it at all worth it to get a crummy cell phone shot like the one in which i am pictured below?

I'll let you know in a week.

On the up side, work has slowed since northbound and southbound traffic have been shifted the final mainline configuration, with 1 1/2 lanes left to construct on the outside of traffic.
I will be transitioning to my next bridge project which will mean a lot of paper work and file set up. Small miracles, since I would be hard pressed to test a load of concrete right now.

Please send common sense, prayer and happy thoughts my way!

RIP Cory

2009-08-01T08:54:00.008-04:00

I believe I have just realized the basis of my fascination with the Hispanic culture.
Corazon "Tita Cory" Aquino died this morning of colon cancer.

Even though the Philippines are technically considered as Asian they have a rich Hispanic culture, being ruled until the 1800's by Spain and I guess, as a child, I believed it was a Hispanic country from hearing the Spanish sounding monikers.

I can remember when we lived without television (6 yrs, the formative ones) I would listen to much news and even local channels on my stereo. I followed from the assassination through the coup and knew that this was major history. A woman could do this??

I can also recall finally seeing her on tv somewhere and being surprised. I had envisioned a large stern looking woman, but she seemed more slight and bright in her yellow dresses.

Already daddy was hard at work toughening me up for this world and making me believe anything was possible but here was proof. Add the Ferraro selection by Mondale and, man, I was certain that soon the chauvinism crap would soon be over.
Then for some stupid reason I joined the cause and strove to change attitudes. It has been a long hard, bruising, exhausting, enlightening and bumpy road.
I had a contractor once ( 'bout my grandaddy's age) threaten to put me in that concrete truck if I did not approve the load.
I have trained individuals only to encounter them 2 yrs later as my boss.
It has been assumed that I could not push a wheelbarrow full of concrete to it's desired destination.
I have been shadowed while inspecting steel 3 stories up since i would surely fall. And so on and so on.......
Of course none of this compares to the suffragettes, I would not even BE in a hard hat if not for them and women like Corazon Aquino.

Rest in peace Cory.

Pick a happy adjective...

2009-07-14T22:20:00.017-04:00

..... and it would describe our mountain getaway with parents and sibling & family. I think that mountian getaways should be required for yearly soul cleansing. I just THOUGHT the ocean was revitalizing, and it is in it's own way, but the Appalachian mountians just do something special.

The cool, sweet smell of of the trails was overwhelming and brought flooding memories of hiking these mountains as a child. Our parents dragged us up Blood Mountain and down Standing Indian, through Rabun Gap and under Anna Ruby Falls. Back then a family of four could easily hitchhike back to the car after tackling a mountain. Living for days off of reconstituted meals, berries & mountain water, we explored those trails in every weather imaginable. We would log in at check-in stations at various points along the trails. At some point my brother and I received a letter from our then-governor Jimmy Carter commending us as the youngest to have hiked the Appalachian trials in Georgia. Kinda cool.

While there was very little roughing it this past weekend in the 5BR 3 BA cabin we stayed in, we did try to spend a lot of time in the woods along the Chatahoochee River. We fished, floated the river and picnicked along the river.

On a sad note, Nikki (my D-70) may be terminal as she took a plunge with the mister who was trying for a daring shot on Dick's Creek.

Here he is seconds before, snapped by one of the kids who was, at that moment, verbalizing the thought that he might fall. She raced in to him, not knowing how badly he may be hurt. I was being taunted by trout up creek and thought the hooting was all about someone finally finding a fish hungry enough to bite. Imagine my surprise when i emerge from the bushes to see wet-headed husband and lens off of camera (*gasp).

What was he thinking?

Other family members who were set up across the creek with heavy duty glass and tripods seemed to have blinked and missed it, but are comparing their shots and sending me the 'after' shots. He was somewhat injured; trying to protect the camera, he says. Even though most of the creek is ankle deep , it seemed to have no bottom where he went in at the falls. Nikki was under for probably a second and a half and he had the sense (since everyone was screaming it) to snatch out the battery.

The body has a better chance of survival than the telephoto lens that was on it but we shall see. I will be purchasing 10lbs of rice and some panty hose tomorrow for the prescribed re-hab. Card compartment was dry and dad will try to recover the days shots.

Other than that, we had a great time and the only way to decribe the view is to show you.

Weekend Shenanigans

2009-06-30T20:41:00.000-04:00

Weekends must be the exact balance of fun, work and rest. A good Satuday morning house or yard cleaning, followed by (insert fun here) with the required rest on Sun. Too much rest fills one with guilt that nothing got done. Too much fun, the same. Too much work, well you get it.
It is just this balance, that when upset, can send you careening into Monday unprotected from the eye daggers, back stabbing, mind f******, leg pulling, knee jerking, gut wrenching, heart breaking assholes.

I thought I had planned for the correct balance this past weekend with out-of-town friends visiting and the monthly Sat night jam. I raced throught the work to get straight to the fun, keeping rest in the back of my mind as something i would get to later on Sun.

Saturday went great with the invention of 'splash dye' in the yard. The stage backdrop had become faded in the sun and needed rejuvenation. We were determined not to have to take the sheets off of the frame so my friend and

I grabbed the ketchup bottles (regrettably no gloves) and went to town "splashing" the dye, working from the outside in. We gained some form (?!) halfway through and started rolling the frame around to direct the flow of dye. Looked great in the 100 degree heat between blender breaks. As I look at it now it kinda looks like first grade artwork, but who doesn't love that?? It rises proudly from the cow pasture.

The squiggly dark lines were some rit dye that did not fare well when rediluted after concentration in dry back room for a year, for some reason it doesn't like reconstitution like Dylon.
That night produced great music and reconnecting with old friends.

It was that night that evidently I agreed to float the river ("c'mon we'll just do the ONE HOUR float") with another friend and his niece/nephew and their friends the next day (mostly 20 somethings, note this).

Mister begs off with the expected bad heart, can't stand the heat, are you kidding me answer.

Something about losing 5 pounds makes you feel unbeatable and able to conquer the world, so I was ready. Packed a cooler in an available baby float (guaranteed not to flip, note this) grabbed my raft with a bottom and headed out around noon.

Spent 2 hours in the heat waiting on teenagers. Thoughts like, why am i here and not on the sofa balancing my weekend? Surely i will be home by 4. Somehow I was talked into giving my raft up for coolers sake and taking a standard river tube with no bottom.

The ride started innocuous enough, vaguely thought about calling dad to take pictures of the huge crowd having the same thoughts of cooling off. I thought he would be tickled to know I was reliving childhood (note this). As a child I remember thinking the river belonged to us since we seemed to be the only ones that ever used it. With subdivisions nearby now, those days are long gone.

The subdivision located on this river is appropriately called Tumbling Shoals. As I heard the hoots and hollers behind me, because i was inadvertently traveling backwards, I did not see the 5' drop to strong current and separated from my ride.

I came away with this, and more.

My elbow turned out to be the worst with a large hematoma that wasn't as impressive to the teenagers as the strawberry on my back.

These are the massive shoals that did me in.

I realized I should have used the baby float.

Dad pointed out I am not 20 something any more with out even knowing I was hanging out with 20 somethings. I was kinda insulted.

I was deposited at home sometime around 6 and I collapsed to be doctored by my smirking husband.

By this time i realize I have mucked up. Not only did I not rest, I seriously put at risk my ability to work and take care of family. WHAT A DOWNER! I wasn't really sure until Mon morning that I did not break anything. Carrying that weight and my wounded pride I went to work to make the best of it, and was faced with...... more crap. After debating for some time how to word what I am going through, I reread my post and realized I covdered that in the first paragraph.

Trying to be thankful I have a workplace to go to even if it is with fraught with degradation, discrimination and favoritism.

This weekend there shall be no problem balancing the equation. With an extra day off I will be able to store enough energy, willpower, superpowers and the motivation I will need to return to enslavement on Monday.

Well Deserved Break

2009-06-15T15:47:00.000-04:00

Seeing how the only time I have had off in a year has been three hospital stays (recap: Mom-Tcell transplant, mister- heart attack, son-neck surgery) I took my parents offer of help to attend a family reunion in Florida. It was a whirlwind trip leaving fri and returning yesterday, but refreshing still. Refreshing more because (sniff, sniff) kids wound up not being able to go. I was very disappointed. I did not gloat.
The boy had a 4wheeler accident that resulted in a broken collar bone. This would cause panic for the average person but it caused rage in this mom. He wasn't even supposed to be riding, as anyone who knows me or him KNOWS. Note that he lives with his father and obviously wore him down to get permission to even be on one before his year of healing is up. I will not bore you with the obvious conversations that ensued but needless to say i was as mad as a wet hen and wasn't taking a broken/not-yet-set child to Florida. Minime chose to work the double shifts that were offered to her and opted out since bubba wasn't going.
My diabolical plan ( ?!) to have an all adult weekend was falling into place. I packed a blender.
We stayed in the same area as we ever did when I was a child, at Fernandina Beach. Not crowded, one of everything you could need and family on every corner.
Bittersweet for my mom who spent her very young to teen years there and it was sad to watch her need help to walk on the loose sand to get to the tight, flat beach. Chemo left it scars in the form of severe neuropathy in the feet and hands.

My mom, on the right with her younger sister.

Fun was watching my dad at work with his new lens, don't ask me what it was, but it was way more powerful that what i have. I managed a few shots on my D70 with it.

Mister thought it was a great backdrop for an album cover so i went at it.

I though about you guys really...

Somewhere on Amelia Island/Fernandina Beach

Things that made me want to stay at the beach and not return:

The beach
Mister getting his groove back
Did not want to see another bridge....ever
convinced myself that i really COULD make a living with an umbrella business
the palms
the way anyone can wear damn near anything they want, at the beach
The way humid, salty air makes my hair act ( think 80's big, sexy beach hair)
Could not get cell phone signal on the beach.... YAY
Crab anywhere, anytime.

History comes alive

2009-05-03T18:56:00.000-04:00

An interesting phenomenon in the south is that some of us LOOOOOOOOOVE to live in the past.
I was raised near a state historic site, Jarrell Plantation, where i volunteered as a teen, and subsequently worked as an older teen. In that time I learned the required arts of the time period: spinning, weaving, dyeing, shearing, wood-stove cooking and dulcimer playing. (I am stashing those skills for the inevitable "survival of the fittest" that I sometimes think this world is coming to.)

In that time of my life I became attached to a rogue group of civil war reenactors that ate-lived-breathed the lifestyle. I joined the group, falling into place as a living historian. Dressing the part was enabled by my seamstress mother who made every day dress, pantaloon, chemise, ball gown that I salivated over. Some patterns were a premium, she once made me Scarletts' barbeque dress from Gone With the Wind. I traveled the the state to participate in various battles, Chickamauga, Resaca & Andersonville. Some, Griswoldville & Sunshine Church, were closer to home.

We were in deep.

The following photo would have been in my hey day( 21 or 22 yo), we won first place for authenticity that evening. The judges would even pull up our dresses to make sure we were authentic to the bone, guess they chose to overlook my braces.

I introduced my first husband to the group and after being punished for being the yankee that he is :) , we were allowed a civil war wedding in the local historic community, where we lived, Clinton.

The best picture, that I could not find, is the regiment dragging up a wooden coffin & asking him to get in, just to see if it fit. This is where he would reside in the event the he did something to hurt me. My great grandmother loved that.

Fast forward past years that I spent roaming the state, estranged from the camps, the lifestyle, the fellowship, the familiarity. When we moved home, i made a point to get Minime to Jarrell Plantation where she, too, volunteered and got a small taste of my childhood. She learned about cotton fields, textile arts, animals and history.

Several years after the photo above, she worked as and ice angel ( for girls under 16) on the battle field in Clinton, carrying water and ice chips to wounded soldiers. We have stopped short of dressing her up as a soldier and sending her out on the field. I was know to do that to be in a position to set off pyrotechnics for the artillery.

Fun Times.

Minime doesn't care too much anymore except to go see the folks that we have visited with over the years, but we went down today to see the Battle of Sunshine Church with some friends. It is an emotional trip for me, 5 minutes from the house. I drive by it all the time, but when it is seething with blue and gray, i get a little verklempt. We noted that some pictures had been added to the memorial wall, "Mountain" and "King", both long-time familiar characters at any battle. I remembered them fondly as each had their ashes blasted from a cannon at the end of a memorial volley, seen below.
I am not sure if this was a health violation.

Things have come full circle, I am home, close to Clinton. Below is the man in previous photos (as my escort and then the minister at the wedding). He is a driving force behind Clinton battles, which ultimately are to raise money for the Clinton Historical Society.

Here are a couple of battlefield shots.

I realized some years ago that some of the participants are more gung ho than others if you know what I mean, and when I was much younger I did not realize the stigma that may be attached to being involved in this sort of horse play. I have since been told by those opposed to certain ideals of 1880 to get over it and move on, but i was NEVER in it for more than the living history demonstrations and never to push a political viewpoint.

I believe reenactments have their place as educational, and those that are just a little too loud and proud about the whole damn flag thing are usually not over it and should, in fact move on.
I am simply proud to have been involved with a such great group, and hope that they have many more years of living history left in them.

The great ones just happen....

2009-03-08T21:00:00.000-04:00

On Sat, since the weather was so beautiful, we decided to jam in the yard with a friend or TWO.
The following happened when word got out. I never even picked up the phone.

This was the first time he has played for an "audience" since the event.

Laugh at us while we freak out....

2009-03-01T15:10:00.000-05:00

Middle Georgia. Need i say more?

Hospital Vent II

2009-02-16T23:06:00.000-05:00

So.............. I took Lime's advice and cooled the heels on blogging and worried about Mr.'s diet, minime's change of venue and young masters change of custody.
Things mostly going well with above, adding that minime moved in with girlfriend weeks ago and hubby has a handle on approved intake and forbidden foods.
I am discovering that it is stressful trauma that sends me here.
This story requires background for the lurkers that won't join.
Young master was cursed with a super macho daddy that envisioned his son a nascar driver by age 18. As i fought against this concept I was worn down by the cuteness (insanity?) of a toddler driven HotWheels thingy. You've seen 'em. He promptly drove it under his dad's truck which told my educated brain that maybe he wasn't cut out for it. I won the battle for a few years pointing the child into his fathers former forte of gymnastics (Ex went to Jr. Olympics on the rings) and this went on for a few years until divorce, finances and then instructor availablity put an end to it. SAD because this child executed a perfect dismount from an Applebee's high chair at age 3.
His dad did not give up the racing dream and by age 6 he had a Honda 50 and we were in the middle of a divorce that included mediation for me to keep boy off of the death machine. Mediation just said work it out and I said I would kill the daddy if the boy got injured.

Karma is hilarious. Daddy rode/owned his share of Harleys (proving he was a worthy rider?) and on one fateful evening he was instructing a wide-eyed 7 yo how to use the death machine. It got the better of him and he rolled down a hill and a even wider-eyed kid had to call 911 on an unconcious father who was subsequently lifeflighted to a local hospital to spend a week wondering if he would lose his polio-striken leg. [evening call goes " hello this is Rockdale County SHeriffs dept. Do you have a son named BLAH BLAH BLAH?" Mouth too dry to answer that question as he followed up with " EX MR has been lifeflighted to lala land".

He recovers from that mishap to buy a better more efficient death machine and move to a location where the boy could REALLY ride, with woods and trees and dirt roads.
So the young child rode, and rode and rode til one day in that 8-9th year he comes back from daddy's with info of a wreck where "somehow my helmet came off" that would require me to follow up with neck x rays which in turn found "nothing wrong" and "maybe some ligament damage" that was causing him to not turn his head correctly. He eventually compensated and time rolled on until about a year ago when he began complaining again of neck pain. Since i was under the care of a wonderful chiro i took the boy there and lo and behold was surprised to learn the his was the most effed up neck in the county with an OLD broken odontoid process at his C2. He went hands off and sent him to a neurologist ( which truly shows his worth).
Now here i sit 4 different types of x-rays, 3 MRI's and a second opinion later in Egleston's Childrens hospital in Atlanta while my son recovers from a "rib fusion". A wonderful surgeon cut a piece of bone from the rib and performed a graft at the C2 to an adjoining C and screwed them together to ensure this graft would take. He will have slightly limited mobility that he will be able to compensate for at his young age and over time.

In the here and now he is incorrigible. I love him but DAMMIT. There are so many babies on this floor that i feel weird crying out to nurses for help but I cannot make him do what he needs to do to get out of here. Surgery was Friday, he was supposed to go home tomorrow but no go.

He was not prepared(literally) for the pain. Step mom handled preop since daddy just had knee replacement (besides having polio see Karma above) and can hardly get around. She did not get near enough info for us to be the best caregivers we could be but I do not blame her. I have found those to blame and they have taken responsibility. Hope I affected change for the next person.
Step mom doesn't do hospitals overnight ( although she has turned out to be a good caretaker while dad is down) and dad can only hang around for a few hours at a time since after the surgery.

Add to this formula that for any spinal surgery the patient WILL experience extreme headaches and require complete darkness and silence and you can see by the length of my post I am damn near a basket case. I have been kicked from watching TV in unoccupied rooms across the hall twice and when it was explained why i almost cried again. "What if you left a germ in an already cleaned room and we placed a sick baby in there?" needless to say i felt like crap.

I was invited to a focus group for parents today. Oh lawd they shouldnt oughta asked me my opinion. I had a laundry list of suggestions, but the blue ribbon went to another mother who found her 7 yo in a bloody hospital room left unsupervised by the nurse he ripped out his iv and blew blood everywhere. This got the guest Liason's attention pretty quick. Although we did have a nurse who could not seem to understand written Dr. orders, it was not gory or life-threatening, just a pain/comfort level issue. Most of my frustration is with the dysfunctionality of mine and my son's relationship, which is why he went to live with his dad just before christmas. It was a friendly legal proceding designed to honor the wishes of the child and lessen the pocket pull of dad, but all for the better management of a child recently diagnosed with ADHD.

As I sit here trying to be delightfully descriptive and wonderfully witty it really just boils down that this is therapy for me since i have burnt up the cell phone battery and people have to continue living their lives even while mine comes to a tornadic stop.

Pray for me as I pray for a quick and complete recovery and please pray for me to not play the blame card while I am here. I will wait for Lloyd to do that.

Home

2009-01-06T06:08:00.000-05:00

We came home on the 30th.

We had CPR training on the 1st. A good friend of mine just became a certifier and was more than happy to give me back control of my life. Carrie and Mom and Dad also got certified.

The Mr is recovering, still very sore from the life-saving efforts.

We immediately assume a lifestyle that would shadow a nun's.

He rests mostly and can't/isn't supposed to venture outside until 1 week home. There are more tests and med changes coming soon. I had to leave him to go back to work yesterday and was very nervous about that.

I have a call in to EMS to locate the closest defribillator, for future reference.

We had our Christmas. He was my present. I thanked the dr.s profusely.

We developed a new routine for eating/sleeping and meds and I have learned much about the no-fad cardiac diet. I have faced these changes head-on and we were already halfway there, just had not committed entirely to whole foods.

I have taken days to post this since it seems so bland. I guess i am very distracted by recent events. I still take time to lurk and I resolve this year to comment more.

I shall end with more updates....

Minime is home now and we have successfully transferred her from GCSU to Macon State. Alot of people did backflips to get her in on time, even though finaid was dragging it's feet. Turns out her last semester excuse for grades were overlooked as a traditional first year gaffe and they weighted her more on her SAT scores, even scolding her about the poor performance at GCSU since it was obvious she could do better. She is home to enjoy the previously mentioned monastery existence, with new rules about coming and going. She "agreed" to be here on all school nights (S-W nights) with Th-Sat belonging to her. I explained to her that I must protect my investment. Seriously could not have gotten through the last 3 weeks without her.

Her ducks (and their poo) have tripled in size and moved to an outdoor pen that she constructed and paid for. We are encouraging her to persue Vet Science so she can get paid to love the animals.

The parents are doing well with their recovery, Mom to have tests this month. Daddy gave me a new lens (50mm) for Christmas and I will be learning all about it and posting some pics soon.

Hospital Vent

2008-12-28T18:51:00.000-05:00

Well, for a heart ward, they sure don't seem to be concerned with stressing the Mr. out! The schedule goes like this:

12:00 am vitals/meds
2:-3:00 blood pressure
5:00 vampires draw blood
6:00 vitals
6:30 EKG
7:00-8:00 breakfast
10-11:00 Dr. visit
12:00 lunch
12-1:00 vitals and meds
2:-3:00 blood pressure
5:00-6:00 vitals/meds/dinner
8:00 blood pressure
10:00 meds

Add in the linen fairy, the personal chef, the housekeeper, the financial assessment, the specialist, the HOSPITALIST ( I did not make that up, this person is a Dr. that oversees the whole care plan) and the visitors.

With every person comes a knock of varying degree to the door and I have noticed the following pattern:

Visitors knock softly and lightly, pushing the door open slowly.
Non-medical personnel knock once loudly and announce.
Doctors knock once and come in.
Nurses don't knock.

I try not to intimidate but I am recording every name and event on a laptop that stands open on on of the tables in the room. I have about googled myself to death. Ask me anything about myocardial infarction. I have quizzed the staff to no end.
I have had questions answered such as "Why is there a Mcdonalds IN the hospital?".
Answer: A very extended contract was granted well before the movie 'Fast Food Nation' came out.

I have asked why is there only CRAP in the vending machine on the HEART floor?
Answer: There ARE some Snackwells in there.

I have asked why patients in revealing gowns are allowed to travel outside the hospital to a smoking are and further their suicide ( what with liability being what it is these days) ?
Answer: We cannot stop them.

Means more income for the hospital, i guess.

On a serious note, Mr. is doing better, looking at a long, detailed recovery. Thrice weekly cardiac rehab ( excersize, diet control and support groups since so many people cannot seem to shed their bad habits even after seeing the white light) is on the agenda as well as a steady stream of meds for some time, and at least one med for the rest of his life.

We hope to behome by Wednesday.

Update on the Mr.

2008-12-26T16:32:00.000-05:00

We have been moved to a private room. All indications are that he has some damage to lower ventricle and it is only pumping 20% of capacity.

We have been assured that the heart CAN heal itself to some degree so we are now waiting to see how that goes.

Still waiting for Dr. to come by.

Will post more when we know more.

What next?

2008-12-26T00:32:00.000-05:00

At our family gathering last night (Christmas Eve), we were happy. Light and breezy, if you will. We laughed, we opened gifts and there was no lamenting over sick family members, everyone was present or at least accounted for.

The Mr. played his guitar in the background while the little ones ate too much candy and danced around amongst the wrappings. Talk of Christmas day plans for the cousins included more in-law gatherings as I professed that I would catch up on sleep. I mean surely I could program myself to sleep past 6:00 if I had no pressures remaining, no children to run around, no more shopping, no more required baking. I bragged that since it was going to rain this mission would be easily accomplished.

Oh how quickly the serene can become nightmarish.

I was awakened by the horrible sound of retching by my wonderful husband at 4:00 am. His major complaint was "acid reflux, vomiting and extreme burning in the chest". I know i was scowling as I scolded his overeating the excellent dinner, or maybe he snuck out one too many times with the guys for a nip. After a few minutes he insisted on a trip to the hospital to which i said , sure, they'll give you a GI cocktail and fix you right up. I really thought he had just overeaten, overstressed, overdone it. On the way to the hospital his demeanor changed as he seemed to get weaker and added a new complaint that he was having trouble talking. I took the crown vic up to 90 MPH on the state route with no resistance at this time on Christmas morn. As we entered the lobby of the E room, he obviously met the requirements to go straight to gurney/EKG. One min on EKG and they were on the phone; while summoning further equipment, he began to sieze. They took off down the hall as he began posturing and soon after he coded. They brought him back with CPR and two bouts of the Defib. He was having an acute heart attack right then and there. Ten minutes sooner and he would have been doing it in the car. Five angels were roused from Christmas slumber to save my husband: a heart cath team and a heart surgeon. They were all incredibly confident and did their best to comfort me. After a heart cath and stint installation in the LAD artery (one of the bigger ones) he was sent to CICU.
No bypass for now. another special person was called from their family to remove the cath which involves 30 minutes of pressure at the site to assure clotting ( what with the gallon of blood thinner he had been given). He was finally stable.

I say that to say this: He never once said his chest was "tight", or that he felt "pressure", words that are normally associated with a heart attack. I have known for some time that persistent heartburn can be a sign of heart problems but his came on suddenly and hard. Looking back he was oblivious to the fact that it could be his heart. One year ago he had an entire workup, cardio and neuro, and was found to be completely healthy.

Seems that, as elusive as cancer can be in detection, heart problems are fairly hard to detect without angioplasty and they need more warning signs to do the aforementioned angioplasty. He may have had several small attacks over the past two years that were just gone undetected because he was otherwise healthy. He even wore the heart monitor for 48 hrs with no problems found.

To say that everyone is shocked is an understatement. I have told the story 20 times today and I thought I would therapeutically tell it one more time to testify that everyone should read up on symptoms of a heart attack.

I ponder if a formula such as

( family history + eating habits) (bad habits - excersize habits)
(awareness of symptoms - level of dr ineptness)(% chance that routine test reveal problem)

= % chance you will have a freakishly surprising massive myocardial infarction

Maybe this will give someone heads up of they fill in just a few of these variables and solve for the rest.

He is in CICU for now and I have been booted until 5:00am visiting hours. We hope for a move to private room on Fri afternoon. After an echocardiogram, we will know more about damage done and possible further blockages.

Posting may be even more sporadic (snicker) than usual or maybe I will take the laptop to the hospital and continue this experience online.

I will include what appears to be the longest list of symptoms from the following link:

http://my.clevelandclinic.org/heart/disorders/cad/mi_symptoms.aspx

Symptoms of a heart attack include:

Angina: Chest pain or discomfort in the center of the chest; also described as a heaviness, tightness, pressure, aching, burning, numbness, fullness or squeezing feeling that lasts for more than a few minutes or goes away and comes back. It is sometimes mistakenly thought to be indigestion or *heartburn.
Pain or discomfort in other areas of the upper body including the arms, left shoulder, back, neck, jaw, or stomach
Difficulty breathing, shortness of breath
Sweating or "cold sweat"
Fullness, indigestion, or choking feeling (may feel like "heartburn")
Nausea or vomiting
Light-headedness, dizziness
Extreme weakness or *anxiety
Rapid or irregular heart beats

Women often have different symptoms of a heart attack than men and may report symptoms before having a heart attack, although the symptoms are not typical "heart" symptoms. In a multi-center study of 515 women who had an acute heart attack (MI), the most frequently reported symptoms were unusual fatigue, sleep disturbances, shortness of breath, indigestion and anxiety. The majority of women (78 percent) reported at least one symptom for more than one month before their heart attack. Only 30 percent reported chest discomfort, which was described as an aching, tightness, pressure, sharpness, burning, fullness or tingling.
[Reference: McSweeney J, Cody M, O'Sullivan P, Elberson K, Moser D, Garvin B. Women's Early Warning Symptoms of Acute Myocardial Infarction. Circulation. 2003; 108(21):2619-2623.]

{The items in red are the ONLY signs that this 46 yo man had. He has been diagnosed off and on for unexplained anxiety for 2 yrs, always refusing the meds because he felt it was not anxiety, but rather he thought he had a neuro disorder.}

Please pray for a quick recovery.

Posted at 2:20 am, Gawga time, not sure what is up with post times listed.....

How did i?

2008-12-16T06:36:00.000-05:00

How did I become the resident feathered friend expert?

Mini-me calls from the local saturday night auction to ask "Can I get ONE hen chick to raise up for Mama Jan [my mom] ?". After 10 minutes of wrangling I agree to ONE chick ( knowing it's true odds, i was willing to gamble). She came home with this:

Clearly not one chicken in the bunch. She had purchased not 1 but 5 ducklings. I ranted for 30 minutes but was drowned out by their incessant squeaking. We spent the balance of Saturday night cramming on duck care ( as 2 passed into the night) and I watched her eyes grow bigger with each new discovery, such as " They need water ALL the time??!!!". To which i wondered aloud if they would survive in the hawks and coyote to live in the cow pond below the house........ NOT, she said. These are HOUSE DUCKS! So she proceeded to prove her point by finding stories of ducks as family pets with proper care exlained. While she did this I reached deep into my cabinet to find some powdered bird mash that we had used to raise up a baby pigeon ( displaced by some bridge rehab) several years ago. Another experience I should document sometime. The ducks were not interested in this at all. They survived a day on tomatoes, boiled eggs and apples until she found their pellets at the local feed & seed.

I am off to buy the smallest kiddie pool I can find.

I guess it was my grandmother who instilled this love for birds as we sat and watched them through her picture window with binoculars and the books close at hand to identify them quickly. It is not something I have ever professed or even thought to list in my portfolio of things I know something about, but nevertheless it has happened. I have had birds in the house for most of my adult life. Currently house a lonely male cockatiel who lost his mate over a year ago, and I don't think he's over it it yet.

My husband took up this affinity when we moved to the country. We spend hours in the summer and spring watching/identifying the birds in our yard.

My brother is a fountain of information with his wildlife degree, he has studied them throughout Georgia. Luckily he will know what where these ducks might want to live when they become too much for the house!

Thanksgiving shenanigans

2008-12-04T07:03:00.000-05:00

Since the maternal grandparents have been gone we have gathered at Mom and Dad's for Thanksgiving and tradition has evolved to include tobboganing on the treacherous leafy slopes in the woods by the house. With a quick change of clothes Minime quickly went from this demure creature ....

to this.....

The middle generation tries to get involved but usually ends up like this:

Did i mention there is a creek at the bottom?

Fun!

Random updates

2008-12-01T06:35:00.000-05:00

Was reading my own blog and thought I would update some previous story lines.
The hen I delivered to my parents is surviving and has been named "Cat" or "kitty" for her anti-social behavior.
My mom is gaining hair back at light speed. She wore one of brothers awful wigs to greet thanksgiving guests, only to happily reveal her fuzzy growth! Her spirit is unbeatable!
Mini-me is coming home next semester to trasfer to local state college and commute.
To quote the director of housing when asked 'How does one get out of a housing contract?',

"Unfortunately I hear this a lot and simply put, it takes money to attend college."

Thank you captain obvious. I would not have called except we are middle-middle class and foolishly thought we would qualify for some sort of financial aid. I did submit the form and letter in tripiclate explaining the recent loss of job in the family and even played the cancer card but only get out of housing contract if you trasfer, so here we go. AT LEAST she has decided on a direction: Spanish major. YAY!

After turkey three ways (fried, baked, smoked), i am ready to go back to work and get some exercise.

Back to life, back to reality, back to the here and now yeah....

A day in the life....

2008-11-25T23:06:00.000-05:00

A day in the life of the job I hate to love includes cold frustration and dirty noise. I offer my first video clip because it demonstrates not only the horrendous sounds but the wicked wind that is twice as blustery in an interstate corridor but thrice as chilling on the hill above same. If you squint at the beginning of the video you might see a UFO, masquerading as a simple plastic bag traveling at light speed in the background. Turn volume down quickly.

The human figure that wanders out of the bottom left of the video is a very beautiful girl -Maria from El Salvador. Her and her husband work together, she is support, he is the foreman jumping while managing the concrete bucket atop the forms. My husband and I have become quite good friends with them over the almost 2 yrs we have been involved with this project. They have shared much of their culture with us and Maria and I spend as much time as possible schooling each other in our second languages. We can be seen on any day scribbling in the dirt trying to get whatever random point across. Others have said it is hilarious to watch us, since she is naturally very expressive and I end up acting things out to get her to understand.

The following is a short clip (not short enough, again turn down speaker volume) of the previously blogged-about AMZING PILE HAMMER. It takes approximately 3o mins to drive one pile, contractor makes about 5 a day. The rest of the day is spent rigging, setting up a template for proper pile location and managing earplugs.

I plan enjoy a quiet Thanksgiving with the 'rents and about 20 other famly members. Best laid plans blah blah blah, Mom and Dad just got a Wii and I kind of look forward to Mario Kart with dad. They heard the Wii was good for exercise and of course purchased the sports package, but showed their age with the statement "Did you know that Mario Kart has nothing to do with F-1 racing?" LOLOLOL

Back to work on Fri but look forward to reading blogs this weekend!

Building bridges.....Literally!

2008-11-19T21:43:00.000-05:00

We are in full bridge building mode!! We are replacing a steel girder bridge. The first pic below is THE AMAZING PILE DRIVER. It is a rather nasty diesel hammer that drives piles (precast concrete columns) into the ground at the expense of our ears and lungs. The smoke you see is a plywood "pad" that protects the top of the pile from such massive downforce (anywhere from 80-150 tns) and begins to burn from such friction.

A wider shot including the crane required to manuever sauch a device.

Once the piles are driven, concrete footings encase and tie in certain piles and concrete columns are formed atop these footings, as below.

These are the same columns that certain drivers make contact with when they choose to sleep and drive at the same time.

It has been a better week so far, as I have avoided certain personnel on the project. I now officially miss 100 degree heat as it topped out at 46 today, with about a -10 wind chill from interstate traffic. Inspected/tested concrete most of the day so I was wet/cold most of the day.

Since I actually spend most of my time watching/inspecting work I feel the need to count blessings.....

Thank God I was not the fella on top of the roadway paver waving to me as i drove out of sight at 6:00 pm. He is stuck there all night. Bless the people that REALLY work.

Stress Olympics

2008-11-13T06:55:00.000-05:00

So far this week I have had to participate in many categories. There's the "leaving the toilet seat up in unisex restroom of field office" that I am losing since I am outnumbered by boys (clearly not men). Since my loudmouth complaints were waged, there is now a new category of "Seat down and dribble".
Outdoor activities include "writing in dirt on inspectors truck when back is turned" and "who can place paint can under tire when she is not looking". I am losing on all fronts.
In light of the fact that i haven't won a medal yet since we lose every specification battle I wage, I took wednesday off to recharge for an end of the week play-off that i am sure to win. It is called "dropping the H bomb" on certain lowlife individuals. (H= harrassment)

I have NEVER filed a complaint in this field, even turned down a chance to join a class action against a large company years ago because I just wasn't raised that way. I try to follow the 3 rules of my childs former kindergarten:

1. Ask offender to stop.
2. If it continues, move away from offender.
3. If they follow, then and only then do you tattle.

I consider myself thickskinned and wise to the guise of their motives but I have had it. I shall arrive on site today with my head held high, certain trusted individuals on lookout and the goal of lighting up the next person that even looks at me wrong!!!

Can I get a 'Hell yeah' ?

Birthday Rainbow

2008-11-04T20:20:00.000-05:00

On Oct 10th, I turned 41. I had to trip to the field office of my project on my day off to have pics taken of my truck that had been damaged by a trackhoe a few nights before. AS we were documenting the damage, we noticed this rainbow and the PM took a few shots of me with my birthday rainbow. A double one, at that! We actually watched it form a half circle across the sky and just as quickly recede. It greatly improved my mood and i felt like it was all mine!!

Another shot with out my mug....

Voting Memories

2008-11-04T06:47:00.001-05:00

I remember my parents taking my brother and I with them to vote at the very big church (*gasp* yes the church) that we did not attend. He would take me and Mom would take brother and they would actually take our hands and show us which lever to pull. ( Is that voter fraud? :)
Later in life I was enlisted to work the local polls at a defunct school and It was an experience. Let's just say sitting on 30 year old chairs for 12 hours was not comfortable but the whole day was fun. It was then I realized that traditionally (around here, at least) the elder women of the community were the matriarchs of this event. I was an outsider as i had been asked at the last minute to fill in for a sick regular. This was a day full of gossip and renewing relationships with each and every person that walked through the door.

I also took my children and taught them of this duty. After the first time, I realized that the kids needed a talk about library voices since my at-the-time 8 year old daughter asked loudly "Why are we voting for so-and-so, Mommy?".

For the past 5 yrs we have voted in a 100 yo building that is only 100 yds from my front door. We all walk down and stroll right in, no lines, but we won't be leaving anytime soon, no sir. We will be accosted by the matriarchs and required to update them on all family members health and recent travel.

I look out my front door and see the lights at the "polls" and the big city of Round Oak is already pulsing with activity . I am headed out the door very early not to accomodate lines but to ensure I have the time to "catch up" at the polls.

It was just THAT kind of day.....

2008-10-27T21:38:00.000-04:00

It was the kind of day you might find yourself chasing a rooster/chicken between your home office parking lot and a busy interstate. Then agreeing to fowl sit for the day until you can relocate it to the 'Land of Milk 'N Honey' . Or the kind of day, even, follow me here, that you feel the responsibility (read: job requirement) to remove debris from the travel lanes. I mean that's what the flashing strobe is for, right? Todays choice of debris was a 12' 2"x10" that you just KNEW you could move/retrieve quickly and alone.
It also was destined for the land of milk 'n honey.
I am sure that niether of these escapades were pretty to watch.
What a wonderful return to day shift! It took 4 grown DOT men + me to catch chicken/rooster. I learned that 4 grown men think it's a rooster since it has a comb and no amount of me telling them could convince them otherwise.
SHE turned out to be a sweet bird and since mom and dad are settled back at home with NO MORE TREATMENTS, it is the perfect time for Mama to have something to worry about and the hen is an ideal subject. Mom went into overdrive fussing over her. I should explain that these people have had flocks in the past but in light of sickness and travel had let them go 2 yrs ago. I hate to admit that sometimes very weird things happen for a very good reason.
Daddy was equally pleased with the 12' 2x10, even though it wasn't treated lumber and i refered to it as "the first joist in my new house".
I am including a pic of the new family member. ( the feathered one)

Beer in the fridge....?

2008-10-27T06:27:00.000-04:00

Mini-me informs me that her college campus is "wet".

We had not discussed this, per se, but have had MANY discussions about alcohol. This child is no angel and I have encouraged her to be the moral compass, babysitter or 'mom' of the group. I have regaled her with stories and never fail to send an article or picture of what could be tragic results.

Luckily she likes to be different and it turns out that "different" is not drinking. I love to live in the fantasy world that she is telling me everything and a few days ago she tells me that she opens the dorm fridge to find beer.
So this is how i find that not only is her campus "wet", but her dorm ( and the fridge, obviously) is also! I insist that this cannot be possible for a freshman dorm, but am reminded that late registration placed her in an uperclassman facility.
So you might be thinking, didn't you research this before you sent her there? Not really. It was a given that she would go to Georgia College. I was way more concerned with financing and grade requirements and even more concerned about room mates. One of her best friends decided to go here as well and they agreed to accept random roommates. Luck was on Carrie's side as on moving day, said friend was not only in the same hall, but two doors down. Thank god she saw a familiar face on move-in day! She kinda wishes they had roomed together now. Roommate is nice but "suitemates" (two others that share their bathroom) are being blamed for the beer i witnessed in the fridge yesterday.
Now, I can accept this, since they all 4 share the fridge. I also might accept it even belonged to a boyfriend since young girls don't usually even like the taste of beer (if it had been Boones Farm or Seagrams coolers, i would have had to sit them all down). But I prefer to live in the fantasy world that she is being the 'wet blanket', designated driver, mom of the group and making the right choices.
I can't sleep well any other way.

Who needs sleep?

2008-10-21T14:09:00.000-04:00

Clearly, I do. I am too old for night work as the dreaded "night work psychosis", or NWP, has set in after only 6 weeks of torture. NWP ( who's only advantage is weight loss) is known to magnify PMS and exacerbate existing character flaws.

This is my last week of night work for a while and I relish the idea of waking up with the birds and the sun again!

I have kept awake at night by documenting the demo of the only steel girder bridge on the project. This operation was surprisingly smooth with only 1 traffic mishap involving 2 cars and 7 teens. Six transported to the hospital with no life-threatening injuries. As always i send these pics to my daughter to scare the hell out of her. These kids admitted to shenanigans on the scene: "We were talking to the guys in the car next to us on the cell phone". The following pic is the result.

I offer some grainy pics of the actual demo. Again I state at how smooth the deconstruction went. This is one of the most dangerous aspects of the job for the operators, as they are literally pulling the bridge down around them.

If these are hard on the eyes, fear not, my dad is talking me through some settings changes and hopefully the captures will get better over time.

The beams are removed by the crane:

A different angle:

And finally the bridge is DOWN!

Moving on, my "crack" dealer has said i need to remove all the files that were miraculously saved and format hard drive and start over. He would have done this for me, had i sent him all discs with the computer. Take note.

I shall place this task in my able-bodied husbands hands as he is the one who introduced "crack" into this household. ( I actually went to Clayton state and studied network technology back in ummmmmm... '95, like when ethernet was new word and there were only 500,000 websites and i wanted to see EVERYONE OF THEM.)

So, much like the car, even though I know how to fix it and am totally capable, I will allow him this privilege.

Faces to go with the stories...

2008-10-15T18:49:00.000-04:00

Due to a recent hacker episode we had to put "crack" (what we call the Dell comp) in the hospital and $75.00 later we have it back but missing all pics and files from 2008. All i have left from this year i had to recoup from myspace ( go figure, it IS good for something). Hope to find them imbedded somewhere but for now i offer these images. None of them shot with my Nikon D70, just point snd shoot canon ( which is now a bad word in the house). Did not realize that Canon/Nikonians were so polarized til I swapped to the D70......

David and I with his oldest daughter to the left.... we have 5 together!

My beautiful kids...

My wonderful husband....

The job I hate to love

2008-10-15T06:08:00.000-04:00

Work. Feels funny to call it that. Shoud call it sit and watch, or better yet, lie in wait for the next stupid move by one of the largest contractors in the east. I cannot count the number of times over the years that individuals have asked me " how do i get a position like yours? " mainly because it looks like I do nothing and, as a consultant for a state agency, am highly overpaid.
Quick rundown: all work for the state must be inspected and approved for payment. Sounds simple. Build it to the plans and specs. That would be great if the same entity that wrote the specs also designed the plans. Not so. This is where a major amount of $$$ is wasted (my money, your money) on redesigns needed that should have been caught by pay grade 16's in the field plan review. Fear not though, we have our own Palinesque commissioner who is trying to straighten out the good old boy network. Loved her til she muddied the waters by dating-firing-marrying a DOT board member. Not a cool way to gain respect of the near dead board members.
Steering away from the politics now....
Working nights for the past month since we cannot close lanes during the day and i am the "bridge lady" so I must oversee certain phases of work whilst my project manager gets his beauty sleep. This week we are installing pipe, grading new roads and ramps and managing the CRAZY traffic during lane closures. Here's a thought: If all the blinking lights are blinding you then SLOW THAT DEATH MACHINE DOWN.
FACT: death benefits are written into the cost of a job. Simple as that. It is akin to playing "THE LOTTERY" to get on the road, only crops don't thrive upon your death.
Current example: last week a 69 yo lady from Tenn traveling to see her boyfriend in Fla late at night rammed the back of a blue light who was running interference (rightfully so it seems) for the men setting out lane closure. She gassed it instead of braking to try to merge wayyyyy too late into only open lane and was forced into the closure to hit a cop. Bad night for her. Upon interviewing her in her tossed about state (no seatbelt. i mean really people) she stated " I was headed to see my boyfriend who called me and asked if I could be there tonight instead of waiting til saturday". Could not help but form the cartoonish thought of a long distance elderly booty call. Of course my dad took offense in hearing this story & her age and thus ensued the only slightly uncomfortably 'old people have sex too' talk. We both noted that he was lucky he didn't have to drive anywhere to have sex unless THEY wanted to. Hilarious!
Closing request: please advise of pitfalls and or unwritten rules of blogging. I already feel as if I run on too long.............

More me... PMS mode

2008-10-14T17:32:00.000-04:00

More about me.... I am married to my third and best husband! Too young the first time to make it work (product: daughter & extreme dislike for New Jersey in the winter), almost lost my soul in the second (product: son & extreme understanding of alcoholism) and only after swearing off of men did i finally meet my knight.
My daughter is a anxious freshman at Georgia College and State University, only 30 minutes away ( not far enough). My son is a too handsome fella who needs an ego reduction but knowing his father this will only get worse.
I was raised around construction and in the country. When i DECIDED that college was not for me ( did not change that thinking til age 30) I went to work in a soils lab and have worked in the construction inspection field ever since. Workboots and hardhat, BABY!
The most important realization of this century for me has been that this industry will kill you. If not an errant drunk/drugged driver, silicosis or skin cancer is pretty much assured. For this reason I am not as enthusiastic as i used to be about "changing attitudes towards women" especially at the risk of my health. Sadly I have spent 20 yrs in a highly specialized field that is not really transferable. Dream: to have my own restaurant, and pursue photography.
If this blog takes a depressive tone, fear not the mood changes quickly! :)
My best friend from high school ( an english major, writer and successful business owner) just moved home from California and this is opening a new chapter for me. She is highly encouraging and doesn't allow one to be depressed, even the required 2 days a month.
Both of my vibrant parents have cancer dad-Lymphoma, remission; mom- Myeloma, partial remission. Cancer sucks. Treatments suck worse. Emory University hospital rules! Insurance companies also suck.
k. I will come back when I feel better and so many things don't suck.

Picasa link

2008-10-14T14:46:00.000-04:00

www.picasaweb.google.com/misticblu

I decided to just link my picasa page instead of trying to upload pics..... for now anyway..... until i figure out blogspot.

First ever.....

2008-10-14T14:39:00.000-04:00

First blog. EVER. Which is amazing since I am frequently told that I talk to much and am full of useless facts. This stems from a childhood without television and a need to consume information like food. Parents are older hippified types who abandoned conventional power 30 years ago for the benefits of solar. I read an entire set of Brittanica (probably dated around 1967) and every book in the house. Favorites included Mark Twain, and Best American Loved Poems. Musical tastes were also skewed to the parents with Harry Chapin, Jimmy Buffett and Pink Floyd topping the lists of preferred listening. I am an information whore. Some call it a control issue. I just feel the need to KNOW everything. I don't read as many books anymore, just find myself scrolling until my hand cramps.
I must give props to Mrs. Lime for inspiring me to start putting it all down in print. Will continue soon with more narcissism and start uploading some pics (amateur at best, dughter of a dark room ghoul). Comments greatly appreciated!!!!