Michael Jackson

Ugh....really? Are you kidding me?

I will admit and agree that Michael Jackson was an amazing performer. And probably one of the most famous faces in the entire world. And it's sad that he died at such a relatively young age.

But I will NOT pay tribute to a man that I believe is a pedophile. I cannot believe that there is a House Resolution to pay tribute to this man.

This may make me unpopular, and I may be the only one in the world that believes that this man should just be left alone, but there it is. My belief that this man does not deserve ALL of the media attention and adoration of the masses.

I feel bad for his family, his children, that they lost their brother, child, and father. And I wish them nothing but peace.

But....let him die in peace. I'm tired of all the media hype, and the television tributes.

'Nuff said.

Where does the time go....

I want to thank Signgirl for the comment basically telling me to get with the program and update! It's been a crazy eight months and I can't believe it's been this long. I never intended to be gone so long.

My mom came home the end of October and it truly was a miracle. She walked out of the hospital on her own! Two weeks on life support, two weeks in therapy(they started therapy the day after they took her off the ventilator), and she was home. Weak, but alive and making daily progress. I had another week off work so I stayed with my folks at their house, helping my mom get re-acquainted with her life. She struggled for a few months with short term memory loss, and a loss of reading comprehension. But I can honestly say that today, she is almost 100%. She will never get back her peripheral vision, but she is doing her daily crossword puzzle and reading her books. She is walking two miles a day versus her three miles a day before. Her equilibrium is off a little because of the blindness, so she runs into things...but other than that, she is the same old mom. I couldn't be happier!

I think the one good thing that came out of all of that drama was that I actually saw how much my dad is still in love with my mom. He never left her bedside. He held her hand or her toe(he's a nut...) every chance he got. When she came home, he would walk her to the bathroom, the bedroom and even outside to walk around and look at the lake. He even stayed in the bathroom while she showered to make sure she was ok.

They went to Florida for five months...leaving at the end of November instead at the beginning. I was so worried....I worried that something would happen while they were down there. I went down for a week in February, and my other sister spent six weeks with them in December and January. Sigh....they came home in April and all is right with the world.

I still miss Amy every day. I was so angry with her in the beginning. She left us behind. She left her kids behind, and her grandkids. I'm still very sad that she's gone and more times than I can count I've grabbed my phone to call her to tell her some funny or some family drama. I haven't erased her number from my phone yet. I just can't bare to do that. Not yet.

Joe came home in December. Hopefully for good. He has been diagnosed with PTSD, Depression, and a Traumatic Brain Injury from the last explosion in his humvee. Every day is a struggle for him to keep the shit in his head from overwhelming him. He's in therapy, takes meds, and has enrolled in school full time. He switched units, so even if he gets redeployed he won't be in infantry. His therapist doesn't think he's combat ready and has applied for disability for him. He should know in a few months if that happens. I think this embarrasses him...he likes to finish what he starts and being medically discharged from the military makes him feel like a failure. He's not alone....one in every three soldiers comes back with PTSD or some other disability.

Every day is a struggle for me because I am trying so hard to understand what he's going through. He forgets things, like dinner plans, or plans to go away for the night. He'll say he's coming over and then I don't hear from him for two days. He is easily frustrated....and takes everything extremely personal. He hates feeling like he's letting me down....and so I have had to learn to keep my disappointments to myself. I know he's struggling to remember what life was like before the war....and I want so much to help him.

The past few months have been better. The meds they have him on now are much better than the first meds they had him on. I bought him a PDA for his birthday so he doesn't feel so much anxiety about missing doctor's appointments, classes, dates with me.

We talk every day. Sometimes for hours, sometimes just for a few minutes. Between my work schedule, his therapy schedule(two sometimes three times a week) and his school schedule, we see each other as often as possible.

Don't get me wrong, it's a struggle, but the good times are amazing. He makes me laugh. He tells me that I am his sanctuary. He feels safe at my house. He feels normal. We go out and with me standing beside him, he feels like a regular Joe. We make plans for the future....what we will do when he gets done with school.

Sigh.....that's just the tip of the iceberg....every day something different happens. I love him with all my heart and I know that he loves me. I hope that he continues to make progress. I hope that we continue to get closer.

I'll try to update this more often. So it won't be so much a summary of events, but the events themselves.

Thanks, Jen.....love you.

Exhaustion and Confusion

I'm exhausted. Truly, bone deep, exhausted. Driving every day an hour each way to see my mom, and then dealing with my own emotions on top of hers, I'm just spent. I went to the doctor yesterday and he gave me another week off work. Thankfully! Now that the adrenaline of the crisis has passed, I have no energy left.

On the bright side, mom is doing better. She is walking better, talking better, and should be coming home on Halloween. She still has no peripheral vision, short term memory or reading comprehension, but there is always a chance that could come back. Fingers crossed, people!

My confusion stems from my relationship with Joe. Our time together last month was nice, but not enough. The day he flew in was the day my sister died. He ended up in the hospital with his own issues and wasn't there for me. I was angrier than I think I have ever been because I didn't hear from him and didn't know that he was in the hospital on base. I jumped to the conclusion that he blew me off and I was hurt on top of grieving for my sister. I heard from him the day my mom had her stroke. It was so overwhelming a time for me, that when we finally did get some time together, it just wasn't enough for me. I needed so much because of my family issues, and he was really great...but I just needed more. So, I felt a little ripped off. Then he went back to Iraq and once again, I was left alone.

And now that he's back in Iraq...I wonder if I will ever get what I need from him. He has his own needs, that are WAY different from mine. Is love enough to sustain us? Can we find a happy medium where we both get what we need? I don't know. And that's confusing for me. I know that I have loved him from our first kiss almost six years ago. And I know that he loves me....but we are so different....have such different needs. I almost feel that I would have to give up who I am in order to please him and make him happy. If I thought that doing so would make us complete, I would do it in a heartbeat. But I have worked long and hard to become the woman I am and it scares me to think of losing who I am.

Vague information I know...but not sure that it's something I'm ready to share here...let alone share with myself.

Sigh....

He comes home again in December. Due to my work schedule and a possible operation for him for his medical condition means that once again, I MAY get a few days with him. No promises. I hate that. I am a planner by nature....need to know what's going on at all times(can you say control issues?) and this whole Army bullshit of never knowing what's going to happen tomorrow just pisses me off. And on top of that, he has an opportunity to make a change in his assignment that would mean he would be home more often and he is stalling making a decision. Why bother fucking telling me about it if you aren't going to do it? Sigh....see what I mean?

I may just sleep until December. Or later.

Update

I went to the doctor on Thursday. I made the appointment about three weeks ago just for my annual physical. How ironic that I would actually NEED to see the doctor by the time the appointment came around!

I have to say....that never in my life have I ever been so overwhelmed, exhausted, sad, numb, confused.....I can't even think of enough words. It truly seems that my life has culminated in a tornado of emotions that I don't think I am capable of handling.

I walked into the doctor's office, they took my weight(I lost six pounds) and they took my blood pressure(way high!) and promptly began crying. When the doctor came in, he asked what was going on that had me so out of sorts. I explained to him about my sister dying, my mother on life support, and how I cannot even think about working. I mean, I investigate child abuse for a living....how safe would any child be with me doing the investigating? I can't even get through a grocery store without walking out in tears because I can't remember what I am there for.

Doc was great....he listened, then listened some more, gave me tissues, and promptly decided that I needed a few more weeks off work. He prescribed something for me to sleep, since I haven't really slept in weeks....and told me to call him if I needed anything and promised to see me in two weeks to see how things were.

It didn't help that when I went to check out they told me that my insurance had been cancelled. WTF?!? I have worked for the government for 14 years! Apparently a snafu when I changed jobs in April had never been corrected even though I had been told six months ago that it had. So when I went to the pharmacy to have my script filled and they told me I had NO COVERAGE just about put me over the edge. Several phone calls later, I'm sitting in the parking lot of the pharmacy sobbing. There was nothing to be done until morning since it was after 4:30pm and the insurance company offices were closed. Sigh...it truly does pour when it's raining.

I came home, in a fog....yes...that's a good description....a heavy fog....and made a cup of tension tamer tea and lie down on the couch. It's all I could do.

Yesterday was a better day for my mom. They finally agreed to take the ventilation tube out. She was very awake, and obviously in discomfort from the tube down her throat. The pulminologist feared that she would not be able to cough or breath well enough but we convinced him that she was stronger than he gave her credit for. They took the tube out and she was able to breath on her own. Much better than the conversation on Thursday about a possible DNR order. DNR= Do Not Resusitate(sp??). I knew when my mom blinked yes and no that she was still in there.

After removing the tube, she could communicate and even made a joke or two. God....what a relief. Her brain is still healing, she did make a few statements that made no sense....but overall, mom is still with us. I only hope that when I get down there today she has made even more progress.

Please keep her in your prayers. Thanks.

When it rains, it pours....

Sigh....another title that would be appropriate would be "Numb".

My sister's funeral was on Tuesday, September 30th. I didn't cry. I think I was truly numb at that point. Trying to be the strong one for my parents, my other sister, my nieces and nephews...And even now, it's too overwhelming to really go into detail.

On Thursday, October 2nd, I was at my folks', helping my mom write thank you cards to everyone who sent flowers, etc....when my mom got an intense headache. I took her blood pressure and it was 230/200. My father and I rushed her to the hospital where they did a CAT scan and then flew her via lifeflight to a bigger hospital. A blood vessel ruptured in her brain. The neurosurgeon told us that it was inoperable and that there was nothing they could do. If she survived the next 72 hours, she may have a chance at survival. But at what cost? What would be the outcome?

She's still on life support, and so far, there has been no change. The doctors are hopeful that when the swelling goes down, she will make a good recovery. But only time will tell.

My father and I have been at the hospital 12 hours a day, waiting for the few minutes we get to spend with her every 3 or 4 hours.

I am hanging on by a thread....my dad is like a rock, but I worry so much about him. He's 65 years old.....he's no spring chicken. I've been off work all last week and this week and not sure if I'm going to go back next week.

I can't even begin to talk about Joe and our visit....I can only handle so much at a time. That's a story for another time.

If you pray, chant, dance naked under a full moon, please do so for my mom. And my dad.

We need all the help we can get.

Friday, September 26, 2008

When the end comes, I don't think anyone, really, is prepared. Sometimes, it's expected, sometimes, it's not. The end can be so surreal, unwavering, confusing, outrageous.

On Friday, September 26th, my sister, Amy, passed away. She was a mother and a grandmother. She was there when I was born, and I was there when she took her last breath. There are few people in the world that you can say knew you your whole life. Your parents, your siblings. I cannot remember a time when she wasn't there. My earliest memories are of myself and her.

I remember sitting on my grandmother's knee watching two guys laying carpet in our living room. Amy was standing next to me, watching these two men rolling out this deep red shag carpeting. The room looked so big without the furniture. I used to have nightmares about the floor....that under the carpet there were big holes and if you weren't careful, you would fall in these holes and be lost forever. When I would wake up crying, Amy would sing me back to sleep.

So many of my childhood memories are about Amy. And usually, she was protecting me from our older sister, who was mean and vindictive.

I remember Amy walking me to school. She was in the sixth grade when I began kindergarden. She held my hand the whole way.

Of course, we still fought like sisters do. She used to stick straight pins through the skin on her fingertips and chase me through the house. She would flip her eyelids up to make me cry.

But my best memory of her.....we shared a bedroom growing up. I have no idea why my parents bought a full sized bed instead of twin beds, but we always shared a bed. Amy couldn't go to sleep unless she was twirling my hair around her finger. I fell asleep every night lying next to her, her fingers so gentle, twisting my hair, letting it fall, then twisting it again. Every night, we fell asleep, talking quietly so our parents didn't hear us. And always, the twirling...I remember when she first moved into the other bedroom(my oldest sister had moved out).....I couldn't sleep. I would crawl into bed with her so she could twirl my hair.

I can't imagine my life without having her here. I know no life without her here. Once there were four souls who knew me from birth. Now, there are only three. I am the youngest. Will I live to watch those other souls go before me? This hurts so bad, I don't think I can take the rest.

I love you, Amy. And I miss you already.

9/11

I remember where I was. I remember what I was doing. I remember every moment of that horrible day. And each year since, on this day, I follow the same ritual. I take a moment in the morning and remember. And I've found that each year, the emotions are there....but not quite as strong as they were the year before.

Until this year. This morning....thinking about that dreadful day in our history, was different. I know why it was different, but I'm not really sure why....does that make any sense? This year, Joe is in Iraq. And he's going to Afghanistan in January, where we've been fighting since October 2001. A direct link to that fateful day. He's there...fighting for our country, the innocents in their country, and it's directly related to 9/11.

I worry every minute of every hour of every day about him. It's like an obsession. Is he safe? Is he eating ok? Is he sleeping?

If 9/11 never happened, he wouldn't be there. He would be safe.

And so this morning, I cried. I cried for everyone who died that day. I cried for every soldier that's died since that day(4,155 for anyone who's counting). And I cried for all the soldiers that are still over there fighting.

I cried for me....and for Joe. He tells me he's not the same man he was....and that I might not like the man he's become. So. Even though he wasn't in New York on that day...his life has been altered forever by the events that day. And so has mine.

I hope there is an end to this war. I hope there is a future for Joe and I. And I hope that he comes home in one piece, emotionally and physically.

Peace to all.

Sigh....

It was too good to last. Joe has been out on mission for the past three weeks and we have only been able to chat online about every three days. Yesterday was the first time I chatted with him in five days. It was official, I was worried as hell. You get so spoiled and then when reality sets in, it really sucks. The good news...only 36 more days until he is home. The I will have three uninterrupted days with him.

I'm scared! It's been four years. We've both changed. I don't want to have any expectations, but honestly I do....and I don't want to be disappointed. And I don't want him to be disappointed either.

My friend, Carol, has a fiance' in the Navy and he's home from Afghanistan right now. She says the hardest part when they first come home from war is their adjustment to sleeping with someone in the bed. She says he has a hard time sleeping with her for the first few days....tossing and turning, freaking out if she touches him in the night. This makes perfect sense to me and I worry that with the little bit of time Joe and I have together will be rough at night. We'll see.

On to a lighter subject....I bought a new camera! My first professional grade Digital SLR camera! I am the proud new owner of a Sony Alpha 200 DSLR(10.2 megapixels!) camera with changeable lenses! I even have a zoom lens. LOVE IT! Of course, it's so much more complicated than my Olympus fe-120 6 mp. Camera. It's going to take me months to figure it out.

This past weekend I was invited to my niece's Princess Tea Party. Lilah is five and she and the other little girls were dressed up like princesses. My sister was the Wicked Stepmother, my brother in law was the Handsome Prince, my mother was the fairy Godmother. Everyone was in costume and I was the photographer. So here are a few photos taken with my new camera!

This is Lilah....taking her princessly duties very seriously.

Here's Mallory, Skylee, Lilah, and Bryn....(secretly, they act more like the four horsemen than four princesses, but they really are adorable!)

Holding Court!

Such a cutie-patootie!

I will post more pictures later....am still practicing!

Have a wonderful week everyone!

Bad Voodoo

I'm so lucky. Joe and I get to either speak, Instant Message, or video call almost every day. I don't know that we will be able to keep it up...you never know where his missions will take him in Iraq.

It's so frustrating, trying to rebuild our relationship when he is 7,000 miles away and literally in danger every day. I try to be as supportive as I can be, but sometimes, he sees it as being ignorant or offensive...my words, not his. For example, when we first starting talking again, I would tell him, "Keep all fingers and toes inside the humvee at all times"...a play on the warning one might get just before getting on a carnival ride. It was meant to be a lighthearted way to tell him to be safe....kinda like you might tell an actor going on stage to "break a leg". You don't really WANT them to break a leg, but it's considered bad luck to tell them "good luck". He didn't see it that way....he viewed it as my lack of understanding what they go through every day. I disagreed with him, but agreed to stop saying it.

I am always at a loss when we hang up, or end our online conversations of what to say. I don't want him to worry, or feel there is any pressure from me to come home, or to do anything different. Is it wrong to tell him to be safe when he and I both know, he can't in all honesty tell me that he will. I think he feels to tell me he will be safe would constitute a lie and a failure to keep a promise if the worst were to happen.

It's difficult to have a conversation online and know truly what the other one means. No way to guage inflection, read body language or facial expressions. It's frustrating, and it's hard. I worry about him 24 hours a day.

He was bothered that I was doing google searches on Iraq and the way of life over there for the soldiers. He didn't want me to know how bad things really were. I wish I had listened. During one of my searches, I came across a series done by PBS, called Bad Voodoo's War about a platoon stationed at Camp Virginia. If you really want to know what it's like for them over there....watch this. Have a box of tissue handy. Joe specifically told me not to watch this....he said I worried enough as it is and didn't want me to worry even more. I think this is an ongoing series for PBS, and wait anxiously for more...it's like driving by an accident, you can't look away.

I've been sending care packages, almost every week. One week I sent batman bandaids...because his radio id is Dark Knight. This week I sent glow in the dark silly putty and a batman PEZ dispenser. Of course, I also send him the vacuum sealed packages of tuna, chicken, salmon....he says they taste 100% better than their rations. Raw almonds for more protein and some batman fruit rollups. Even the soldiers need something to make them smile. He never asks for anything...and when he gets the packages, he tells me how perfect they are. I think he loves the babywipes most of all. And the socks.

Joe will have 12 days of leave at the end of September...only part of which he will spend with me. He has a child, and his parents he will go to visit. I understand his obligations...but I know I will be sooooooooooooo sad when he has to say good-bye.

Oh. My. Gawd.

Oh. My. Gawd.

What am I thinking?!?!?

Background: Five years ago, I met my soul mate. From the first date, I couldn't get enough. His sense of humor, his intellect, his lips, his hands....a perfect match. The intensity of our relationship was overwhelming. We connected on levels I didn't even know existed. He felt the same way. It truly seemed like a basic chemical reaction. Like Hydrogen and Oxygen atoms connecting together to form water molecules. Just meant to be.

Then it all turned to shit. I lost our baby, I lost him.

It took me two years to move on to the point of even wanting to date(not to mention the months of therapy, drugs, and tears). It took me another year to actually feel excitement and anticipation when I met someone new(which quickly moved on to boredom). It took me another year to deceive myself into thinking that I didn't love him anymore.

And then...

I emailed him.

Just a little note to say hi, and hoped life was treating him well. I never really expected him to respond. I didn't even know if his email would still work. I sent that little email why? I honestly don't know....maybe some left over obsession creeping out of my subconscious, or maybe I was just lonely and bored.

Three days went by and he responded.

He's in Iraq. On his second tour of duty. He has already volunteered for his third tour. The day he responded he was on a three day R & R...at the base camp. In less than twenty-four hours we emailed back and forth 95 emails. Then he called. We talked for four hours. He told me that he joined the military and left two years ago for basic training, blah blah blah. His mother thinks he has a death wish and joined to find redemption for his actions(hurting me, his family...). I think she's right. And on some level, so does he.

He's found a way to email or call almost every day. When they go out on a mission, and they end up at camps all over, there are computer stations, or phone stations. He's a gunner, sitting up top in the humvee watching for insurgents...or whatever the hell you call them.

When I found out he was in Iraq, I emailed him and told him that I wanted him to know that I forgave him for the hell he put me through, and that in case the worst happened, I had truly loved him and wasn't angry any longer.

He wrote back that in case the worst happened, he wanted me to know that he never stopped loving me, was still in love with me. He told me that he ran because he was terrified. He didn't think himself worthy....and was afraid that I would end up hating him. (Pretty close, dude.)

Here's the 'what the fuck' part....

I still love him.

Clearly I tried my damnedest to fool myself into believing I was over him. But if, on some cellular level we are truly connected, could I ever really be over him? It's like a returning obsession....constantly thinking about him. Actually PRAYING people, that he doesn't get blown up. Then, of course, revising my prayers to include all the soldiers over there...I don't want any of them getting hurt.

Four years ago was the worst time in my life. I did not believe that I would survive. I am one of the most rational, sane, responsible, reasonable, level headed people I know. And I lost my mind back then.

So. Here I am.

Debating my decisions in my head. Rationalizing my decisions....I won't get so involved this time, I will walk away if he starts his shit this time, I will not lose my mind this time, I will remain a LITTLE distant to protect myself this time, I will not love him as deeply this time.

Am I just a sucker? Am I just a victim waiting to get trampled on again? Where does this come from?? Can he actually change his stripes? Or is it convenient for him to portray himself as a lost hero, trying to find redemption in a world where there are so few heroes...and so little forgiveness.

There is so much in my head....it's confusing...and I should be grateful that he is 7,000 miles away so that I can at least have some sort of buffer zone....

I can say this, right now in this moment of time, that I will NOT be a victim. I will NOT lose myself.

I only hope that I can be proud of who I am when and if this is all over.

Happy Mother's Day

On March 2nd this year, my mom contracted double pneumonia and had a heart attack. My sister and I flew to Florida, expecting the worst. The doctor's told my dad that she might not make it.

Thank God she walked three miles a day, swam for an hour every day and rode her bike every day. She didn't smoke or drink.

And it saved her life.

After her heart catheterization, the doctor said it was the best possible outcome. She had no damage, and no plaque. The heart attack was caused by a tumor in her thyroid. Tumor removal completed, and massive amounts of thyroid medication and my mom feels better now than she did before the heart attack.

I am so thankful that I have another Mother's Day to spend with her.

Happy Mother's Day, mom!

I love you.

Early Old-timers?

Mmm....the smell of morning coffee....pure bliss. I get my favorite coffee mug out of the cupboard, pour myself a cup....the hot brown elixir of the Gods, waiting to perk me up....add just the right amount of sweetener and turn to get the half 'n half out of the refrigerator.

Why, oh why, didn't I notice that I grabbed the jug of strawberry-orange-banana crystal light until I poured it into my coffee?

Odd flavor of coffee, but overall not too bad. Will not try again.

The Tumultuous Month

...And thank God it's over.

At the end of February, the 22nd as a matter of fact...I got my lay-off notice from work. I knew it was coming...they were shitheads about it, but it's all good.

Then on March 2nd, my mom was rushed to the hospital with double pneumonia and a heart attack. I flew out on March 4th and spent twelve days in Florida with her and my father. Mom came home from the hospital the day I flew back. Whew! She's feeling great by the way.

The day after I came home, my sister, the one that stayed back in Michigan, collapsed and they rushed her to the hospital. The following day they ended up doing emergency surgery because her colon had ruptured and she developed gangrene. They removed half of her colon and 80 centemeters of her small intestines(think almost three feet). The doctors told us if she made it through the surgery it would be a miracle....and then they told us if she made it through the first night it would be another miracle. Amy was in a sedated coma and on life support for ten days.

On March 25th, she came off life support and is finally breathing on her own. She is still in intensive care, but it looks like she is going to pull through.

Of course, this was all going on during my last week at work. The kids were so angry and sad that last week. On my last day they had a good-bye party for me....complete with a cake, balloons, and giant cards they made themselves. The best part was a t-shirt they made for me that said "We love you , Ms. Cutie". I bawled like a baby. We took lots of pictures, that I can't publish here due to confidentiality...but over-all it was a great party.

So....the 2oth was my last day of work. I called my contact in the central hiring office and reminded her that I was laid off and she was quite snappy..."you aren't the only case I'm working on, and those people were permanent state employees". Flabbergasted, I asked her if she even read my application since I have FIFTEEN YEARS SENIORITY! She was silent for a moment then uttered...."oh", and then...."let me talk with my supervisor and call you back". She never called back.

This past Tuesday, her supervisor called and apologized. She said I never should have actually gotten laid off, that I should have been placed immediately, and was I interested in my old position in my old county that was available? Are you kidding?? Ten minutes from home versus an hour? Hell yes I was interested! She asked if I could start on Wednesday. I told her no. Too short notice and had my niece for the rest of the week(she was on spring break). She told me I could start any time I wanted.

I start tomorrow.

So in summary, my mom is feeling great, my sister is doing better, and I have a job again.

Life is good.

Now if it would only stop snowing.

When it rains, it pours...

On Sunday, March 2nd, I worked late, past ten p.m., due to one of my girls having what appeared to be a psychotic break. It later turned out to be a fabrication because she believed that a male staff she had a crush on, was paying more attention to one of her peers than her. I swear, she is an academy award winning actress. It was the best damned performance I've ever seen!

While I was driving home, I noticed that I had a message from my aunt. But since it was so late, I decided to call her back in the morning. But the following morning, my sister called me first. My mother was in the hospital on life support. In Florida. I called the hospital in Florida and with her "pin" number(given to family members to allow for sharing confidential information), I was told that my mother had pneumonia in both lungs, and had had a heart attack. She was indeed in intensive care with a breathing tube, on a ventilator.

My mother, who walks three miles a day, swims an hour a day, and rides her bike every day....she doesn't smoke, or drink(anymore). How could this happen? I just spoke to her that Saturday! That's when she told me that she and my dad had just gotten back from Universal Studios where they spent two days riding the fucking rides! I mean, that's pretty incredible for a woman who is going to be sixty-nine in a month. I probably can't do half the things that she does. She is in the best health of her life! What the fuck happened??

My sister and I booked our airline tickets that Monday and flew out on Tuesday morning. My director at work was really supportive and told me to take as much time as I needed to go take care of my mom. My kids at work cried and told me they would pray for my mom. I left work, came home, did some cleaning(sorry Jillian that the house wasn't in better shape) and did a little grocery shopping for my niece who was coming to watch my dogs. I packed enough clothes for five days, figuring if I had to stay longer, I could always do laundry at my folks' place. My sister, who is nuts, packed three huge suitcases, not realizing that airlines now charge you for EACH FUCKING BAG. I was lucky....my bag was a carry-on.(by the way, that nut brought six purses, fifteen pairs of shoes, and probably twenty outfits....this isn't a vacation, you moron).

My dad, who is the strongest man I know, who usually tells me not to worry, and normally would have told me to stay home, cried on the phone and told me to hurry.

My dad picked us up at the airport and took us straight to the hospital. When we walked in, they were in the process of trying to take my mom's breathing tube out. They had her tied down, and she was struggling. She was scared. They told us to stay in the hall, but I said, "fuck that", went in the room, grabbed my mom's hand and told her I was there, to stop struggling, and she held on tight and didn't move. The nurse removed the tube, suctioned out her mouth and put on the oxygen. That's when I noticed the writing tablet on the table. In my mom's very shaky handwriting, she had written to the nurse, "Take the tube out, I don't want my daughters to see me this way". At that time, struggling to breathe, she was more worried about us.

The pulmonologist was impressed with my mom's ability to bounce back so quickly after being on the ventilator. He said that most people with double pneumonia, at her age, would have been on the tube for at least a week. She was going on hour 48. Of course, her heart was another matter. Her heart was damaged, and kept racing up to 170 beats per minute. Her blood pressure was down to 70 over 40. They ended up using a defibrillator on her twice to try and get her heart back into a normal rhythm. She spent five days in intensive care, and then went to a regular room.

Originally, not knowing what was going to happen, I had booked our tickets for Tuesday through Sunday. I actually thought ahead and bought the insurance that would re-imburse me for any fees if I had to change the tickets. Thank God I did that....because, I did end up changing the tickets. My boss wasn't too happy about that but what are they going to do, fire me? I'm already getting laid off.

Long stort short, I flew back yesterday....I wanted to work my last week, clean out my office, do some last minute paperwork and spend some quality time with my girls before I have to say good-bye on Thursday. My mom is still in the hospital, but is doing better and may get to come home tomorrow. My sister stayed in Florida to help take care of her. Turns out that she has a tumor on her thyroid that caused her heart attack. She isn't ready for all the tests she needs on her heart due to the blood thinner they gave her.....it caused internal bleeding and she needs to heal from that before they can do a heart catheter and possibly put a stent in her heart. They told her the only thing that saved her life was the fact that she was so healthy. Otherwise, the pneumonia and heart attack would have killed her. The upside of getting laid off...I can go back to Florida next week to help my mom...my sister can only hold it together for so long before she nuts up and does something stupid.

There's so much more to this story...but I'm still exhausted and still have to go to work today. But at least I still have my mom.

That's good enough for me.

Jeff Daniels and The Little Pink Man

Catchy title, huh....

It's been a few months since my last post....and if there is anyone left out there....sorry for the absence. Work has been extremely busy....and I mean busy. I currently have sixteen girls compared to the six or seven girls each of the other cottages have. I asked for help from my administration, and when I did, my boss' response was "How do you think it's going to look when I write your performance review if you are telling me you can't do your job? Remember, you are still temporary." At that point, I had had enough of his threats and told him I didn't give a shit what he wrote, that I wouldn't be here when it was time to write the review.

Irony.

Two weeks after that conversation, I took a few days off work to have a much needed break. And while I was off, I received a call from a co-worker that told me I was going to get my pink slip when I came back from my vacation. She told me she knew before my vacation, and was angry with the administration for not telling me beforehand. The day I got back, my boss was off, so I went to his boss and very politely confronted him about the information I had been given. He called me into his office, shut the door, and proceeded to apologize for the way I found out. He said their intention was never to let me find out that way. He told me they debated about telling me before my vacation, but felt that I deserved a few days off, worry free. He told me he would do whatever I needed him to do in order to find another job before my lay-off was official. And then he told me that I had thirty days. March 20th will be my last day. When my boss came to work the next day, I was called for a meeting with him and his boss. My boss apologized for the insensitivity of whomever had called me at home. They wanted to know who called, but I wouldn't tell them. I don't believe it was an act of insensitivity. It didn't help either to get back to work and have two other people tell me my boss told them before he told me. And as we sat in his boss' office, and he told me he never told anyone...I did the unthinkable. I called him a Liar. Right to his face, right in front of his boss. His boss whipped around to stare at me....probably in shock....I'm not usually one to rock the boat. I gave it to my boss with both barrels. How could he sit there and lie to my face? How dare he tell others before he told me? And then he had the audacity to ask me did I trust someone else to tell the truth before him? And I said YES. I then calmly got up, told both gentlemen to have a good afternoon and walked out. I owe them nothing. Of course, I walked out of the office, not out of the job. I still have to pay my bills and get another job. But then, they can kiss my ass.

I told my girls what was going to happen. And they were angry....and sad. As much as they abuse me, I know it's because they trust me enough to know I won't hurt them back when they 'bite'. They wanted to riot...hurt someone....fight the administration....but I wouldn't let them. It's not up to them....they have even less power than I do.

I called my contact in the capital, and she set up an interview for me right away. I had my interview yesterday....just a basic interview for any position so that when one becomes available, I won't have to wait. I can slide right in. One of the interviewers was a small man, who was completedly bald. When I say small, I mean small. He was probably five foot three, with small beady brown eyes, glasses, clean shaven. But the most interesting thing about the man was the fact that his skin was bright pink. Not like, he's super fair with a sunburn...I mean, bright pink, all over. Almost like he was holding his breath....forever. He was very nice, and easy to interview with. He knew my old boss at my old office and thought that I had a good chance of going back there....he would give them a call. I think I did well....we'll see. Of course, I had to give them my current boss' name and number...I wonder what he'll tell them about me.

On Wednesday, I had to take one of my girls to court. It was a long drive, and along the way, my co-worker, my kid, and I were driving along the highway when we passed a Honda Prius Hybrid. From the passenger seat, I was just looking out the window as we passed and I noticed the driver of the Prius look over at me. Jeff Daniels!!! I'm sure he realized that I recognized him because he slowed down. I turned to my co-worker and told him I thought I had just seen JD and he didn't believe me. So he slowed down to allow the Prius to catch up....but Jeff was on to us....he slowed down even more. So my co-worker...who is just a little bit nuts...decided to get off at the next exit, get back on the highway, and pass him again. So we did....I'm sure the kid in the back thought we were both coo-coo for coco puffs.

As we came back onto the highway, there was the Prius, right ahead of us. So we passed him again....and I was sure it was JD! You may think I'm nuts, but JD actually lives in my state, in a small town not far from where we were located. Of course, by this time, my co-worker and I are cracking up....and 'lo and behold...my co-worker once again gets off at the next exit and does the same trick. We are both laughing hysterically....joking that JD will think we are stalking him....and how funny that looked: Two crazy laughing lunatics following a movie star in a state vehicle with a big state emblem on the door. We passed him one more time and then he jetted off the highway...probably in search of a state police post to sign a warrant for our arrests! Poor Jeff. We are obviously not used to seeing famous people....poor guy just wanted to take a nice quiet drive around the state....and we ruined it.

Jeff, if you're reading this....sorry we scared you...it wasn't our intention. And I do think you are really great. Can I get your autograph sometime?