Super Tuesday - Not A Walk in the Park

Here I am thinking about braving the weather, braving my kid's driving, just so I can go out and vote for a man I didn't want to vote for in the first place. I wanted Rudy! McCann's a good guy, maybe a good Senator....I don't know. I don't want to make the trek. I'm using the gall bladder surgery as an excuse, and that's not fair to anyone. That's not fair to the system, it's not even fair to me because I'm suppose to get out and get around. By around I suppose voting could qualify. I will not, however, stand in line. If the poll-office doesn't direct me straight to the front of the line I'm going home. (Is that selfish or rude?)

The pain in my back from the entire ordeal has become the one reason I continue to take the pain killers. I have really cut them in quarter and refuse to become addicted, but the achy back is just something no one really warns you about. Oh, and the "distention" do you know about distention? That's the fatness you take on after a major gut-wrenching surgery that bloats you up like a balloon, and makes you feel like you're about to pop when you can't pop to release the pressure. Another thing that wasn't discussed before the surgery because it was suppose to be a routine thing.

I did ask the doctor for the gross of my operation. Maybe after reading it I can see why all the fuss was made. I trust my doctor, he's a great man, so if he said it had to go then it had to go - but my my my my my....this wasn't what I bargained for. So far the surgery's complications have taken me out of work in NJ, NYC, and possibly Philly on the 15th of Feb. It's laid me up longer than expected, just thinking about taking the dogs out in the morning causes me to pause - so I ask myself...do I really care if I vote today? Will it make a difference? I know the answer. I will get my butt out of the bed, I will walk around, I will drive to the little church. If I am taken to the front of the line I will vote. I believe I've seen them taking the elderly and the disabled up to the front in the past elections...I just happened to be one of them now. (Hopefully, just for now)

Wow. Super Tuesday. Lots of delegates, I think we have 22 or something for the Republicans. I don't remember. I'm into it, but I'm not caught up - I'm more interested in the outcome of Obama/Clinton and/or Clinton/Obama and I'm a Republican. Strange that I'm more interested in that outcome - but then again, I would love to see Rudy show up on our ticket! That would make me happy.

Good night, I'm rolling over now...sleeeeeeepppppp

In Between Drugs at the Moment

How are you? I would love to show you a picture of my new airy-inflated belly - the one with the six inch slightly curved scar running North Northwest across my chest, however, I'm not sure you would be a fan.

I was laying on the gurney last Monday, minding my own business. That's what I do you know, I mind my business. I had signed all the signatures, initialled all the boxes so there was very little to do other than to lay down, smell the oxygen and have my body invaded by steel. That was me then. Today I am a completely new woman, by that I mean I look like I could star in a really scary pirate movie. I could be the battle-axed crazy-haired femme on board that shows no mercy - has the crippling scars to prove her determination to make it to the top of her game! Arrhhh! (I so totally misspelled that.)

The decision to do an open gall bladder incision and go in after the fiend, came only after the great doctor (Dr. Jay Cannon of Oklahoma City) had first attempted to do the surgery as minimally as possible. I would have three very tiny incisions (one in the belly button) and they would be pulling my ugly, old, nasty, stoned-up gall bladder through said belly button. We always believed the belly button had a purpose, now we know what it can do. Upon poking a little camera and a great deal of air into my belly, it was determined that NO...the gall bladder was not to be cut and brought through my body after all, it had something drastically wrong with it. Stones aside, the gall bladder itself was highly infected. I didn't get to see it, I could have possibly described it for you, so since I can't do a perfect job I'll go on and say it had green rolly-polly looking characters on it, and that it was the consistency of apple pie...I'm probably lying, but I don't care. I'm on drugs today.

I woke up from the gases and found myself in a hospital room rather than my own room at home. I'm not surprised. I have to have all the attention when I do anything at all that requires needing attention. I may act coy and shy about it, but I love having people swarm around me and make me who I am, what I am, what I will be. I think it started in Kindergarten when I announced that I had a secret. BAM! 14 friends in a nano-second. I made something up I'm sure. Jeanie still believes the lies I told her in high school, she's still hanging around. Does that make her vunerlable, stupid, or just a really cool person? I like to think she's awesome. She's only corrected my lies once when it was misquoted a few years later and could have come back to bite her I think. She's good at the game.

I'm not kidding when I say I have a six inch valley carved into the horizon of my chest....it curves just so, and it has real live rail-road tracks...I guess when you're private pay they send in the carpenters to staple you rather than the doctors having to sew you up. No, they tell me it's a normal thing, but it does creep me out when I'm pretending to pull on them just to piss off the kids. (Which is actually quite fun because I don't do scary movies, and they do.)

I will be more able to write and chat a little later in the day perhaps. This being Feb. 1, we need to make our plans for the ground hog coming up tomorrow. I have no idea if that requires a presence but I will simply call in with my prediction this year. I'm thinking longer winter, harder weather, bigger storms, more snow, and maybe just a little power outage to top it off. This is Oklahoma - she feels my pain. Speaking of pain, the nurses at the hospital were unable to give me another dosage of Perciocet because it hadn't quite been four hours since my last. However, she could see that I was in a lot of stress. Rather than give me my regular dosage she gave me a higher dosage because it was a different medicine - does that make sense to you? I didn't argue. I simply thanked her.

Good night I say at noon. I must return to the world of the slumbering ones. I will be alive soon and we will dance.

Almost Back

I'm only writing to tell you that I am physically home, but not blogging for a couple of days. I was in the hospital having my gall bladder removed, and of course there were complications. It wouldn't be MY life if there weren't complications.

Now I have 4 holes in my belly/chest - one 4" long and what feels like 4" deep, but I doubt it. Sorry if you missed me, I missed me too. I did actually see all of you in my dreams....you're pretty!

Be back Friday.

That's Oklahoma!

(my photo)

Today it is 37 degrees outside and the geese have half of the lake to walk on and half of it to stand on. Later it will all be wet, and the temperature will be around 60. We do that here, we experience winter and spring in the same day. Likewise, closer to summer we experience winter and summer, and closer to autumn, we experience winter and fall. Note the pattern? Oklahoma is just in the middle of the mix I guess.

Something else about our state, about our people: I am having surgery on Monday, I'm private pay, so that means I get the calls from the doctors and the anaesthesiologist telling me they expect full pay before the surgery. When I mentioned that I would NOT be paying it up front I got the response I rather expected, but you're always a little shocked to hear it coming from the mouth of a professional. The woman on the other end of the phone said "Oh, OK, well I'll pack the tequila in his bag when he comes to the hospital, you can pay for that right?" I just laughed at her. I told her I fully expected her to drink to my recovery - but that the doctor had to wait until after my surgery to do so! She agreed. (It's tough being poor, but all of us are in that boat from time to time.) Humor is the heart's medicine.

This week I saw a commercial that really represents the spirit of our great state in a way that NO ONE has been able to fully capture before. As the camera pans the church on the day of their wedding, the bride is standing at the alter with her groom, in her left ear she wears a white ear bud with the OU Sooners football game playing quietly just before she takes her vows. As the Sooners make a touchdown she smiles and nods her head yes.....now, if you don't understand that, well you don't understand Oklahoma.

Boomer Sooner!

Animal Wellness Magazine - Headlines Faith

Faith Healer! What a title. I love it. Thanks Animal Wellness. I have to say this is one of those fantastic interview/investigative articles that really makes a difference in the lives of both our family and those who have seen Faith in hospitals and/or military bases. Faith is truly an amazing dog.

We wanted to take this positive opportunity to thank Animal Wellness for their vision and their insight to not only ask us to be in their magazine, but also to put Faith, a two-legged dog, on their cover! You guys are really special to us. This is Faith's FIRST cover for an international magazine, and we're hoping it isn't her last. What a great inspiration to everyone to see a dog with disabilities on the front cover of anything - let alone a great magazine like Animal Wellness, a magazine that focuses on some of the special needs and characteristics of all animals. We couldn't be more proud of both Faith and the publishers. Thank you!

I also want to personally thank Randy Poff of Oklahoma City, one of the great personal photographers who has shot for us in the past. He was responsible for the Montel video footage that is seen throughout the world on YouTube. Poff is actually a photojournalist. I called him in a little panic one Sunday and asked if he could take a few shots for Animal Wellness. He didn't charge me, he didn't let me buy him and his wife dinner, nothing! His beautiful daughter Ferrin is my son's good friend, and to be honest, I think we'd both (sets of parents) be happy to see the two become closer....maybe....or is that me, dreaming again? Hey, thanks Randy!

So, when you're out and about, and you pass by the magazine with the happy little yellow dog on the cover, please buy a couple of copies. Get one for yourself, and one to give away. She's bound to make you smile. You can't help yourself. I can't tell you what all is covered in the interview, but I will say this: Faith comes out looking really good! She deserves the best! You can pick up the issue at PetCo, PetSmart, and/or online at www.animalwellnessmagazine.com

The Black Knight Resides in Fairbanks, Alaska

"It's ONLY a flesh wound!" Do you remember the Black Knight of Monty Python and the Holy Grail saying that? OK, well there's bravery and there is sheer lunacy, and the silly Black Knight and my son Reuben have something in common now. No, he (Reuben) didn't get his arms chopped off, but he did stab himself in the hand with his own knife! If I were a betting woman (lottery twice a week) I would say he's trying his hardest NOT to go to war, but then again, I know my son...he's bored from NOT going to war, so he's playing too hard and doing some really stupid things up there in the land of the midnight sun! "I can close my knife faster than you can SGT!" (The beginning of the end.)

I got the call. It was something like 2:00 a.m. Los Angeles time because that's where I was when I got the call. The Call is code for "Hey Mom, I'm in the hospital again." This time he wasn't laughing quite as much as he was when he broke his ankle in December, but he wasn't crying much either...like I would be. I'd have freaked probably after I realized my hand was gashed through and through. I declined to upload the photo that Reuben sent me, it was pre-op and I didn't think you wanted to see a grown man with a 4 inch blade sticking out of his left hand. (His right hand giving me the thumbs up.) When he arrived at the hospital he called me to let me know he was being admitted to the E.R. He asked if he should remove the blade. NOOOOOOO! I screamed into the phone. That's when he started laughing.

"Mom, I'm not stupid. I was kidding. I'm at the freakin' hospital, the nurse already told me to stop playing with it. I've washed it out on the sides and everything, they even stopped the bleeding for the most part, damn Mom, you're high-strung." I wanted to kill him. YOU THINK! YOU THINK I'm high strung? I'm over here thinking to myself the Army is going to call me and ask me to come pick him up! They couldn't possibly use a kid that damages himself this much. I was wrong. The next day I got a call from the SGT that was with Ruby at the time of the accident. He told me that anyone that could stab himself with a knife and drive himself to the hospital with it sticking out of his hand and dripping on his pants so it didn't get the car seat messy has a place in a real man's Army. His words, not mine.

I asked Reuben if they could bust him in rank or dock his pay since he keeps hurting himself. He paused for a second and he said "Well, they said they were going to make me a Texan if I do it again. I guess that's bad." (Please Uncle Sam, anything but that!)

OK...he's not the brightest bulb in the basket, but he's mine. He's the most wonderful, giving, caring, upstanding, uplifting, courageous, and protective man I have ever known; perhaps he'll stick around the military long enough to figure out when it's appropriate to stab someone and that the someone shouldn't be himself. Then again, I've always got the option of putting him in English classic film. He's got the part memorized.

Funny story: I was in L.A. filming for a Japanese TV show with my dog this weekend. A First Sgt in the Army came up to me in Starbucks off Ventura Blvd and Alcove, just across the street from the famous Sportsmen's Lodge where we stayed. The First Sgt came right up to me and said "Hey, is that Faith?" (pointing to my dog) I said yes, yes, it is. He then asked "How's Reuben?" Seems he and his wife drink their morning coffee and read my blog as well as a few others every day. How's Reuben? Awesome! "Have a seat First Sgt, this is gonna take a while!"

Three Way Calling

(My three on the phone)

I didn't actually have a photo of Reuben on his phone up in Alaska, but when I saw this guy hanging out in a bag of dusty brown and green men I knew I had to have him. Look at this; he's on the phone while he's shooting someone! That is SOOOOO my son. He's on the phone talking to his sisters, telling them to stop fighting but he's about to kill someone - - this is NOT our father's Army.

I have been so bad in the past year or so calling Reuben up just because he has a phone and I can get a hold of him. He'll be in formation, on a mission, at bivouac or just climbing over a wall when his phone rings. Everyone in the unit just laughs at him...."STRINGFELLOW, you're phone's ringing!" Bet it's his mom, they say under their breath. They used to say it out loud hoping to get rise out of him, but it was me, and they'd get all upset because their moms never called. I call just to see if he's taking his vitamins, if he's remembering to turn off his coffee pot before he goes out to the field for the day, or just to make him burp for me. He's really one of the best damn belchers in the universe, and it makes me happy to hear him. I know he's OK if I can get a burp from my son. (Worked 21 years ago, and I just haven't stopped listening for it. I don't bounce that much with him anymore though.)

The girls were actually both talking to him in this picture. One on my home line, the other on her cell, and he'd have to switch back and forth on his cell to listen to the other sister bitching after he'd had enough of the first one. I couldn't stop laughing. I was in the kitchen making something and heard every word. Finally, when one of them hung up I got a call from Reuben telling me that he had to go park his Stryker, it was going to require both hands, but he couldn't get his sister off the phone because she was crying. He's needed.

Sometimes I think he went to the Army to get away, and sometimes I think he went to the Army to protect them. (Us) He'll call me at 11:45 his time to be sure the doors are locked, the dogs are in, the girls are in bed, and all the candles are blown out. The only problem with his 11:45 (2345 military time) calls is that it's 2:45 a.m. (0245 MT) my time. If the doors weren't locked by that time, I'm probably in some sort of trouble, but at least he's still the man of the house - more than 2000 miles away, but he's got it covered. HOOAH!

No Tequila was Injured During This Blog

Something had to give. I was flooded with invitations today, asked to show up everywhere and with only a few hours of daylight I knew that accepting any real invitations to play would be AFTER the sun went down. In other words, NOW. A girl can only do so much. I'm telling you, you post a blog about needing attention and the world comes out to greet you - - I'll have to remember to do that again next week too. Let's go work out! OK...I'm there. I'm usually there, so when my friend asked me to go with her, albeit a different gym by the same franchise, I was all over it. I don't mind showing off my bike-riding, treadmill rocking skills. I don't care where I am as long as my MP3 is working and I can close my eyes, dream of the man in my mind and pump the best out of the Bose headsets; the best possible - total escape. When I told the lady at the front desk that I wanted to tan - I was pumped myself. She was all over that too. She, like the lady at my gym, reminded me that the bulbs were new and I remembered to tell her to lower my time from 15 minutes to 10 and I was sure I remembered to remind her. So, why was I second doubting myself when I was completely undressed and about to slip under the heavy door...I was sure of it. Imagine my fear when I realized I was just about to turn the door knob and walk into the foyer to re-remind the counter lady about the timers....oops, you might need some clothes on to do that girl, just might...probably, yeah. I put the headsets back on and just counted 2 and 1/2 songs! 10 minutes - brown backside. Let's go the casino tonight for dinner! Let's make pizza! Let's go shopping for soap at that place! Let's call up spirits from the mirror! NOOOOO, there is a limit, I do draw lines. Get those people out of my house. But I was up for the pizza thing, so Caity and I went to the store and checked out every veggie available to make it the fattest, most veggie topped extravaganza on the planet! We ate 1/2 of one piece each and just died....we'll be eating old stale veggie cheese and yeast less crust pizza for a week. Someone, probably someone with a really sick sense of humor, bought me a book on Yoga from the internet. Stretch Mommy! Do this Mommy! Can you bend this far Mommy? SCREW YOU and your 17 year old body - I have pictures. I remember being able to put my legs behind my neck, those were the days.  Oh wait, that didn't really need to be out there. Little gymnastic humor....OK, scratch that. So, yeah, there comes a time that after you've worked out, tanned, burned, showered with oatmeal and vinegar, stretched and made a mega mountain of munchies that you (me) deserve to cut up a couple of limes (OK three). I can do that and feel no pain, I mean...no guilt. No guilt. Bring on tomorrow! I have NO plans to answer the phone.

Journals

The only thing I really had to worry about today was when and how I was going to go to the store and buy a new journal. My last one only lasted 2 weeks because my cable tv and internet was out for a few days when the tree trimmers cut a line. In times of extreme nothingness I write. Actually, I write all the time, and journals only usually last about 16 days, but this one was certainly running out of room and I had only had it maybe 11.

When I die I have it in my will (if you can call a bound book a will) that my daughter Laura will get my journals. I know she'll want to keep most of my work, my dreams, my thoughts, my energies a big fat secret but only because for the most part they are as mundane and idle as this particular blog. I mean, when I write in my journal (I say journal as if it's one book. I think I have over 250 now and that's for the past few years only. 11 entire years of journals were destroyed by my former whatever you want to call him. 11 years of writing - I probably averaged a book a month then.)

Laura won't make a movie out of my journals unless she decides to spice them up and say all sorts of things that aren't true; or if she just focused on the dream segments that could be both entertaining and interesting at the same time. I think I'll write a book covering the dreams I have had in just the past year or two because I really do write them out in my journal and try to make up meanings for them - it could amuse someone. Now, if I gave the journal to Caity...please, she'd burn them and say they went to good use. Reuben would probably pour over every word and try to make sense of my life. That would ultimately prove to be fruitless and unnecessary - the only meaning to my life is that it's MY life....I live it.

Journals have been used to determine history. Most of Blackbeard's (Edward Teach the pirate)life was determined by his writings. What we know of marinetime navigation came from journals - wait a minute. Maybe I could start writing about being something really cool and end up being in the history books like Teach himself! He died on my birthday, or rather I was born on his deathday. John F. Kennedy died on that day too. Come to think of it...journals aren't such a bad way to keep track of life now because I'm sure with all the technology we have now no one would bother to even check what I write about myself...but accept it as golden truth! No one takes the time to write these days, obviously if they did they must be telling the truth. YES, this is it. I will become...oh, I don't know, a writer, an author, I could be a teacher, no....wait, a professor! I could be a professor!

That's it, it's settled. I'm writing more about it tomorrow in my journal and when I die, and the movies come out about me...you'll see that I taught English somewhere, that I had wild and passionate dreams that could rock the tartar off of the teeth of a killer whale! (Oh, I like that...that was good. I'll use that in my book too!) Maybe I'll write something about being a mother, a good mother, a kind hearted, nature-loving, crocheting type that drinks coffee all day and probably too late into the night....and she (I mean I) blog too! That's it, I blog!

Good thing I got the journal. I need to find a pen now, I'm out of ink.

My Baby Is Taller Than Me!

I turned around and it happened....my little girl grew up. She got all tall and long legged on me. I took these (and a thousand other) pictures of her in her baby doll outfits for the Japanese TV crew that is coming to Los Angeles just to see her, or rather to see and hear her. She'll be singing a very beautiful song in both Japanese and English, and their idea is to mix the English for her background vocal background. It really should be sort of cool. I know it will eventually make its way to America. It would be sort of strange to have an internationally known singer in the family - - but I would like to see America step up too. It's so hard to break into the business in this country. Everyone and their dogs .... oops, that would be me, wants to be in the spotlight! Laura deserves it. She's awwwwwesommmme.

When I think back to all the times I screamed at her to turn off the television after midnight so I could sleep, it makes me wonder if I was actually being listened to. I don't think I was. She speaks Japanese - she was training herself in the middle of the night when she watched the anime shows televised in Japanese. She'd wake up at 2:00 in the afternoon and say something to me that sounded like "Ka-Nichi-Wa" and now I know...it was hello, or how are you? Sort of like Aloha!

When Laura was four years old she would stand on top of my bed and say "I'm taller than you Mommy." I would sit on the bed and bounce her down to me and tickle her and say "But if you're taller than me I can't do this", and I would grab her and roll her around, tickle the stuffings out of her and kiss her belly button. We don't do much of that anymore, but I did kiss Caity's bare butt the other day so she could get a little extra cash on a bet! I love my girs. I don't call them girls because again, when Laura was little she couldn't say girl correctly. They are my girs.

My little one. My baby...I still have that one. Caity will forever be shorter than me....but damnit, she'll forever be thin and gorgeous too! Oh, I don't mind, I just sit back and look at her. Both my angels are incredibly talented and beyond words for describing their beauty.......gag me already, I sound like a schmooze! LOL
But Laura is pretty and she is talented, and at 5'8", she could be a model....but she one thing for sure, she's taller than me. (and her feet are bigger too...hahahaha) Good luck with the song baby gir.....Godspeed.