Moosey: Cutest dog created by the hand of God. We love her and can't imagine our family without her. Sarah, unbeknownst to me, snapped this photo of her and I was delighted to find it on my camera.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
February: illustrated Cliff Notes edition
The month is passing quickly, and although I don't have much time to write--and won't have much time for two more weeks (until the musical is over)--I wanted to post a few photos for documentation purposes.
One tradition we enjoy during costuming season is keeping a stash of treats to share with the kids at the high school. My friend Teri and I especially like Circus Peanuts (you either love 'em or hate 'em). She found an on-line source and presented me with a 5 pound basketful! To make things even better, they're individually wrapped, which makes for better hygiene when sharing with a cast of 50.
My sewing area, which is really an extension of my family room, is a crazy mess at present. I've been just throwing larger scraps on the floor to be gathered and sorted later. Moosey has taken a liking to burrowing in the glittery scraps to chew on her Nylabone.
And speaking of messes, my house is getting so dirty I'm about to lose my mind! A few weeks ago I set the can of Pledge on the piano to remind me to take a moment to dust it. You can see how well that plan worked.
I could not let the month go by without paying tribute to this man, Jerry Hendrix (a member of my stake), who kindly spent four hours at our house replacing some sort of valve attached to our furnace/boiler that regulates the flow of hot water. Now, after a few months of hasty, tepid showers, I can finally enjoy longer, very hot showers! Thanks, Jerry. You're my hero.
Yes, it's another picture of Moosey. This time to document that, despite the hectic schedule around here, we took time to give her a much-needed brushing and bath. She doesn't like the process too well, but endures it patiently.
One of the best things happening around here is Mark's project: painting John's room. I have always been the chief painter in the family, but because we promised a room re-do for John's birthday last month and I have since been sucked into the costuming vortex, Mark has taken on the project single-handedly. I think he is secretly enjoying the project, though he did comment the other day, "You've always done the taping, haven't you. . . ." I could get used to just selecting the paint color and never having to actually paint again! I'll give a full before-during-after post next month sometime.
Last, but not least, I just couldn't resist sharing the zombie pose my mother insisted on striking in her hospital bed. It just doesn't quite convey the frail mother image I was going for, but I love that she can keep her sense of humor in the face of adversity!
In cataloging my recent photos, I realized that I haven't been taking many SPs of late. I'll try to remember to take a few this week, along with the costumes. We start dress rehearsals on Tuesday, and although it's a long, tiring haul, it's rewarding to finally see our efforts on the kids and under the lights. Wish me luck as I round the home stretch!
on the mend
Thanks to the aforementioned miraculous camera healing (and also thanks to a brief and much-needed break from my sewing machine) I can finally post the photos I wanted to from last week (a couple in this post, and a lot in a post later tonight).
Mom kindly posed for this hospital photo. She wanted to hold out her hands like a zombie, but I made her place them in this rather sad, invalid-like way, enhanced by the flattering glow of the fluorescent lights.
She was released from the hospital late Tuesday afternoon and has spent the rest of the week recuperating at home. Many friends have called or come by with well-wishes, flowers, dinners, etc. She has quite a large fan base. On Tuesday morning (day after tomorrow) we have an appointment with the pain specialist, who will administer an epidural treatment of cortisone or some other such drug. The procedure is considered a surgical one, but is done on an out-patient basis. I'm hoping and praying that she can get some long-term relief from this treatment.
Here is the picture I like the best--my darling parents holding hands. Mom actually went to Sacrament Meeting with us this morning and she and Dad kindly obliged me this photo when I went to do Mom's makeup prior to church. Tell me, what 82-year-old do you know who wears leopard print so well?
While she still isn't feeling entirely well, she really wanted to attend church and partake of the Sacrament (she has missed the past two weeks). I am always inspired by my mother's commitment to the Savior and feel blessed to have her example of diligence in my life.
Mom kindly posed for this hospital photo. She wanted to hold out her hands like a zombie, but I made her place them in this rather sad, invalid-like way, enhanced by the flattering glow of the fluorescent lights.
Here is the picture I like the best--my darling parents holding hands. Mom actually went to Sacrament Meeting with us this morning and she and Dad kindly obliged me this photo when I went to do Mom's makeup prior to church. Tell me, what 82-year-old do you know who wears leopard print so well?
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
using technology to my advantage
After spending the greater part of the past three days in the hospital and on the telephone (or so it seems) I have chosen--at Charlotte's suggestion--to update my family on my mother's health via blogging. Ah--the wonders of the modern age!
Mom came home from the hospital late this afternoon, after a three-day/two-night stay. She arrived at the Emergency Room early Sunday afternoon via ambulance (her second trip to the ER in two days) to be treated for intense pelvic pain and also heart pain. Our first trip on Friday morning was rather unproductive. I highly recommend arriving by ambulance and having heart trauma if you want to move to the front of the ER queue and be treated in a timely manner.
After x-rays and an MRI, all the "bad" things have been ruled out, i.e., cancerous growths, infection, etc. Thankfully, surgery is not the recommended course of treatment for mom, as I don't think she could stand to go through another major surgery. Of course, neither do I think she could stand to continue living in the extreme, intense pain she has been in. While in the hospital she was treated with high-end pain killers and muscle relaxants and was completely immobile in bed. She feels much better now, though still in a bit of pain and rather worn out.
The primary care doctor is referring us to a Pain Specialist (I didn't know there were such titled doctors--shouldn't they all be pain specialists?) who is also an anesthesiologist. He will likely administer an epidural dose of cortisone, which is proven effective in treating her type of pain. I have made the necessary calls to get this plan in motion and am waiting to hear from her cardiologist, who also has to sign off on the plan. Hopefully she will receive this treatment sometime next week. Meanwhile, with adequate rest and medication (not to mention the replacement of the hideous hospital gown with cute satin pajamas) she will hopefully be moderately comfortable until then.
As always, her spirits are good, her attitude upbeat, and her humor in-tact. She was a popular patient on her floor. Dad is the most relieved to have her home, as he seems quite lost without her constant presence.
I actually had the presence of mind to pack along my camera this morning to the hospital, planning to take a few photos for documentation purposes. I took a picture of her sweet, gnarled little hands with the IV inserted--for a melodramatic effect. I was then planning to follow with a picture--at home--of Mom and Dad's hands together, as they are often to be found holding hands for comfort's sake. Sadly (very, very sadly) when I was packing up her belongings today in the hospital room and heading down to bring Dad's car around to pick her up, I found--much to my horrified dismay--that the almost-full water bottle I had tossed into my my purse at the last minute did not have the lid fastened on tightly. The entire contents of my large black-patent bag were soaked through, including my camera, which now flickers and sputters when turned on. I just can't talk about that any more right now.
I'll keep you posted on her progress. Thanks for all your love and prayers--I really appreciate the strength I feel from you and I know Mom does, too.
Mom came home from the hospital late this afternoon, after a three-day/two-night stay. She arrived at the Emergency Room early Sunday afternoon via ambulance (her second trip to the ER in two days) to be treated for intense pelvic pain and also heart pain. Our first trip on Friday morning was rather unproductive. I highly recommend arriving by ambulance and having heart trauma if you want to move to the front of the ER queue and be treated in a timely manner.
After x-rays and an MRI, all the "bad" things have been ruled out, i.e., cancerous growths, infection, etc. Thankfully, surgery is not the recommended course of treatment for mom, as I don't think she could stand to go through another major surgery. Of course, neither do I think she could stand to continue living in the extreme, intense pain she has been in. While in the hospital she was treated with high-end pain killers and muscle relaxants and was completely immobile in bed. She feels much better now, though still in a bit of pain and rather worn out.
The primary care doctor is referring us to a Pain Specialist (I didn't know there were such titled doctors--shouldn't they all be pain specialists?) who is also an anesthesiologist. He will likely administer an epidural dose of cortisone, which is proven effective in treating her type of pain. I have made the necessary calls to get this plan in motion and am waiting to hear from her cardiologist, who also has to sign off on the plan. Hopefully she will receive this treatment sometime next week. Meanwhile, with adequate rest and medication (not to mention the replacement of the hideous hospital gown with cute satin pajamas) she will hopefully be moderately comfortable until then.
As always, her spirits are good, her attitude upbeat, and her humor in-tact. She was a popular patient on her floor. Dad is the most relieved to have her home, as he seems quite lost without her constant presence.
I actually had the presence of mind to pack along my camera this morning to the hospital, planning to take a few photos for documentation purposes. I took a picture of her sweet, gnarled little hands with the IV inserted--for a melodramatic effect. I was then planning to follow with a picture--at home--of Mom and Dad's hands together, as they are often to be found holding hands for comfort's sake. Sadly (very, very sadly) when I was packing up her belongings today in the hospital room and heading down to bring Dad's car around to pick her up, I found--much to my horrified dismay--that the almost-full water bottle I had tossed into my my purse at the last minute did not have the lid fastened on tightly. The entire contents of my large black-patent bag were soaked through, including my camera, which now flickers and sputters when turned on. I just can't talk about that any more right now.
I'll keep you posted on her progress. Thanks for all your love and prayers--I really appreciate the strength I feel from you and I know Mom does, too.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
that's showbiz
Mark, after hurrying to iron a shirt for work early Wednesday morning only to find, when completed, that his shirt had bits of sparkly gold embedded into the fabric:

Sadly, yes.
"Is that. . . GLITTER. . . on the ironing board?
Sadly, yes.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Thursday, February 5, 2009
it seemed like a good idea
Me (at 6 p.m., after a full day's work and day that required me to get up at 4:45 this morning): "Let's go to Taco Bell/Pizza Hut for dinner. Sarah, we can use the coupons you got from school for reading to get two free Personal Pan pizzas."
Sarah: "But I really want tacos instead."
Me (after a small moment's pause): "Okay, John can have both pizzas and I'll buy you some tacos." That will hardly cost a thing--and it will be worth it because it will be really quick, allowing me to get down to the basement sooner to start the sewing night shift.
Cut to drive-through at Taco Bell/Pizza Hut.
Me: "I'd like three tacos and two Personal Pan pizzas--"
Sarah (interrupting): "Can I have a root beer?"
Me: "--and a root beer, please. I have coupons for the pizzas."
Fast Food Attendant: "We're out of root beer. And my manager says we don't take those coupons."
Me: "Oh."
John (from the back seat): "Don't forget I have Mutual tonight, Mom, and it starts in less than an hour. Can I have a Baja Blast with my pizza?"
Me (eying the lineup of cars behind me): "Make that one pizza combo, two drinks, and three tacos. Wait--" (throwing caution to the wind) "--add a medium Diet Pepsi, please." Maybe that will help me make it through the night shift.
Fast Food Attendant: "Okay, that will be $12.72. And we're out of bread sticks. Can you wait for seven minutes?"
Me (weighing the pros and cons of waiting vs. leaving without the bread sticks): "Sure, I guess we can wait a few minutes."
Fast Food Attendant: "Just pull around to the front and I'll bring them out."
Cut to parking lot, fifteen minutes later.
Me (falling asleep in the driver's seat while John and Sarah eat pizza and tacos respectively): "John, why don't you go in and check the progress of those *%^@!&! bread sticks!"
Another ten minutes pass.
Me (upon seeing John finally emerge from the restaurant): "Finally!" I'll bet they gave him a few extra to compensate for our interminable wait. "Did they give you any extra?"
John: "No. They forgot about us."
Me: "Good grief." I shouldn't have changed into my lounging clothes before leaving--I totally could have worked it to get some extra bread sticks. Oh, but I forgot, my feet were killing me and I was going for ultimate comfort, and I really just want to get home and start sewing.
Home, at last. Kids have already eaten.
Me (relishing the fact that I at least have some of my favorite salad in the fridge to have for dinner--and the fact that I finally have a moment to sit and relax): "John, are you ready for Mutual? It will be time to go soon. Sarah--you'd better get started on your homework."
Sarah (with enthusiasm--apparently bolstered by her nutritious taco meal): "Can I play you the recorder song we learned today in Music? It has CD accompaniment to go with it!"
Me (steeling my nerves and feigning enthusiasm for her musical suggestion): "That would be great, honey." *sigh*
Sarah: "But I really want tacos instead."
Me (after a small moment's pause): "Okay, John can have both pizzas and I'll buy you some tacos." That will hardly cost a thing--and it will be worth it because it will be really quick, allowing me to get down to the basement sooner to start the sewing night shift.
Cut to drive-through at Taco Bell/Pizza Hut.
Me: "I'd like three tacos and two Personal Pan pizzas--"
Sarah (interrupting): "Can I have a root beer?"
Me: "--and a root beer, please. I have coupons for the pizzas."
Fast Food Attendant: "We're out of root beer. And my manager says we don't take those coupons."
Me: "Oh."
John (from the back seat): "Don't forget I have Mutual tonight, Mom, and it starts in less than an hour. Can I have a Baja Blast with my pizza?"
Me (eying the lineup of cars behind me): "Make that one pizza combo, two drinks, and three tacos. Wait--" (throwing caution to the wind) "--add a medium Diet Pepsi, please." Maybe that will help me make it through the night shift.
Fast Food Attendant: "Okay, that will be $12.72. And we're out of bread sticks. Can you wait for seven minutes?"
Me (weighing the pros and cons of waiting vs. leaving without the bread sticks): "Sure, I guess we can wait a few minutes."
Fast Food Attendant: "Just pull around to the front and I'll bring them out."
Cut to parking lot, fifteen minutes later.
Me (falling asleep in the driver's seat while John and Sarah eat pizza and tacos respectively): "John, why don't you go in and check the progress of those *%^@!&! bread sticks!"
Another ten minutes pass.
Me (upon seeing John finally emerge from the restaurant): "Finally!" I'll bet they gave him a few extra to compensate for our interminable wait. "Did they give you any extra?"
John: "No. They forgot about us."
Me: "Good grief." I shouldn't have changed into my lounging clothes before leaving--I totally could have worked it to get some extra bread sticks. Oh, but I forgot, my feet were killing me and I was going for ultimate comfort, and I really just want to get home and start sewing.
Home, at last. Kids have already eaten.
Me (relishing the fact that I at least have some of my favorite salad in the fridge to have for dinner--and the fact that I finally have a moment to sit and relax): "John, are you ready for Mutual? It will be time to go soon. Sarah--you'd better get started on your homework."
Me (steeling my nerves and feigning enthusiasm for her musical suggestion): "That would be great, honey." *sigh*
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