Thanks!

Thanks to Rae Ann over at Critical Mass and The Button Box for giving my humble little blog a makeover. She did a great job! Maybe now I'll get myself in gear and start posting again!

Under Construction

Please bear with me. My site is under construction.

Also, I am having a crisis.

 My baby is leaving in exactly seven days for boot camp. SEVEN DAYS, PEOPLE! I may not be posting very much. We just had his going away party this past Saturday and now we are preparing to celebrate Thanksgiving and Christmas in one fell swoop. So, Harry Thankmas or Meppy Chrisgiving and I'll see you when I see you.

Poor BTK. he has to suffer so much humiliation. Every time his *mother* Sissy puts his Snuggie on him he immediately falls over and refuses to move. Perhaps it's from embarrassment. Perhaps it's because his mother has a matching Snuggie in pink. Whatever it is, as soon as that thing comes off, he disappears for quite some time. Odd.

Poker Face ReMix

I love Funny or Die. When I need a little pick me up, I immediately go for the funny these guys provide. The latest? Christopher Walken doing Lady Gaga's Poker Face.

Christopher Walken sings "Poker Face" - watch more funny videos

OMG. It's almost as good as his skit on SNL. What would make it better? More cowbell.

Some of my other favorites from funnyordie.com are "The Landlord" and "Good Cop, Baby Cop."

You're welcome.

The Landlord from Will Ferrell

Good Cop, Baby Cop from Will Ferrell

Another picture of my lunch date. Little Perry is THE BEST baby. And I can say that because I don't live with him.

My lunch date today is THE best cure for the Wednesday blahs.

I think I have to kill my boss ... or Please bathe me in Lysol

So, yesterday Boss calls in to the office to tell me he won't be in because he's sick and has a fever. To this, I reply, "Okay. Please stay there. Oh, and hope you get better soon."

I'm fully expectant he won't be in today either. But what do my wondering eyes see? Boss comes in waving a piece of paper around in the air saying, "I'm done." What? "I'm done." I also note he's in jeans and a sweatshirt. Coupled with the "I'm done" statement, I am now thinking I am going to have a new boss because he has been summarily let go. Has he been laid off? Not possible in this business. Fired? He hasn't screwed anything up, to my knowledge. Quit? It's definitely a possibility, but I think I would have some advanced notice of that was going down. Little did I know exactly how nefarious that statement would be to me.

When asked for clarification on the "I'm done" statement, Boss reveals he most likely has SWINE FLU.

* Image from here

Is he nuts? Does he know what he has done? I only have so much hand sanitizer on my desk. I certainly don't have enough to baste my entire being with, much less wipe down every surface in our shared space. I have no Lysol on hand, either. What to do? Why is he here? He said he had to locate some paperwork. ACCCKK! Boss could have called me. I would gladly have looked for said paperwork and left it out somewhere for him ... like in his parking space. Then, I know I wouldn't have to possibly come into contact with piggy germs that are probably right now gathering into formation in the air duct above my head. I can hear their little microbial feet marching, the leader calling cadence just waiting for the attck signal.

Why? Why me? I was just sitting here, minding my own business and WHAM! I am subjected to a dastardly communicable disease for which I have not been immunized because I am not a member of a "high-risk" group. Yay for me. I shall now sit here and look up schematics for a hyperbaric chamber to seal myself off from the rest of the world, 'cause if I don't get the H1N1 out of this, no one else is getting the chance to infect me.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to Sam's to find the largest can of disenfectant I can find ...

Happy Birthday, Sissy!

I can't believe it, but my baby is 16 years old today.

It seems like just yesterday you were too impatient to wait for the doctor, waiting just long enough for him to run in the room and catch you. Growing up, you've always been the one to march to her own theme song (Deet deet deet doo doot deet deet). Over the years, we've watched you go from sitting on the stage staring at your feet, arms crossed while everyone else danced around you at your first recital to starring in a one act play in an Advanced Drama class.

I hope in the years to come, you start to understand all of the decisions we as parents have made. It has been our hope all along that you grow into a kind, considerate, loving person. Please keep this in mind on the days we make decisions with which you don't agree. So far, I think we've done a pretty good job.

So, on this most important milestone in your life, I hope everything goes your way, your theme song wins an Emmy and you keep striving to not be the girl on the floor, staring at her toes while everyone else dances around you. We love you and hope you have a Happy 16th Birthday.

Happy Halloween, y'all!

*Photo "ghouled up" courtesy of Picnik

Try JibJab Sendables® eCards today!

My Two Year Wreckiversary or "Food Could Have Saved Me" Night

*** CAUTION: GRAPHIC PHOTOS *** CAUTION: GRAPHIC PHOTOS ***

*Before you start, this is going to be a long one. Click on any photos to embiggen

** UPDATED**

This is what I see every night when I close my eyes:

Two years ago today, my life was irrevocably changed forever. 

Marv and I were going to be working all weekend and even though Scootie and Sissy were perfectly capable of staying home by themselves, I didn't want them to have to sit in front of the t.v. and be bored. So, Sister L said they could come over and hang out with her, my BIL Scott-dot and their Grandpa.  Marv had already been working all day after having worked his regular job and was headed home for some sleep before going back out again the next morning.  The kids and I went to leave the house and for some reason, instead of getting in my assigned (by Marv) vehicle, we jumped into the nice, much newer Ford F150 (you know, the one we were still paying for that had all the bells and whistles, not to mention 4-doors and a full backseat).

Sister L and BIL Scott-dot live about 13 miles from our old house. Just a hop, skip and a jump. I was in a ratty old t-shirt, sweats and flip-flops because I was going right back home to try to get some sleep myself. I dropped off the kids, hung out for a few minutes talking to the family, telling the kids to behave, yada yada yada.  They invited me to stay and have some dinner, but I told them I needed to head home because tomorrow was going to be a long day. I should have stayed.

Less than five minutes after I left their house, less than three miles away from where I had just left two of the most important people in my life ( and three that come in a close second), I thought mine was about to end.  The road I was traveling on has a speed limit of 45-mph. I had the radio on, but just for a little background. There were a few cars behind me, but not too close. I was probably about 300-yards from "THE CURVE." We all have one of "those" roads where we drive just a little extra-careful. This was my road. I noticed approaching headlights coming around the curve, knowing they were attached to some heavy machinery. "Hmmm. That car looks like it's going a little fast."  The next series of events took seconds, but seemed like they were in slow motion. The swiftly (too swiftly, it turns out) moving vehicle came around "the curve" waaaay too fast, on my side of the road, and did exactly what those pesky driving instructors tell you not to do. The driver over-corrected. This promptly sent the vehicle veering (at a high rate of speed) to the shoulder of the road.  Again, over-correction.  I am observing all of this and have started to slow my speed because I know the driver is probably going to over-correct again when they hit the dirt on the shoulder. Fast-moving tires, dirt, gravel and fear do not mix well.  I'm still slowing, moving over onto my shoulder of the road, trying to give the driver room to manuever, hoping they can get the vehicle under control. My heart is racing, I'm checking my rearview mirror to make sure the people behind me are slowing, seeing what's happening. The driver corrects again and the vehicle darts back up onto the road, still going so much faster than the posted speed limit and I'm thinking to myself, "Why don't they hit the brakes? Why aren't they slowing down?" By this time, I am almost completely off the road and the other vehicle has swerved back onto the road, but is going back and forth in a crazy zig-zag motion and then ....

All I could see were headlights. It was almost like the driver just said, "screw it," and let go of the wheel.  The vehicle took an abrupt left turn and came straight at me.  I was pretty much off the road by then, but still slowly moving forward.  There was no squealing of brakes, no smoke clouds rising up like you see in the movies. Just headlights.

The impact was at the left front and the trajectory of the resulting waves was right into the driver's area.

At the scene

At the wrecker yard, in daylight

 Just before the impact (literally when the car was about five feet away), I did what anyone would have done instintively. I shied away from it, drawing my left side up and away from what I knew was coming. "They" always say, if you're going to be in an accident, don't hold onto the steering wheel (if you're driving) or brace yourself. Yeah, right. I was holding onto the steering wheel (because I was driving) and my right foot instintively went to the brake pedal.  The floorboard crinkled like a Ruffle's potato chip.

That red arrow is pointing to my flip-flop. No doubt my foot was on the brake pedal.

Everything went really quiet. Then, I must admit, I screamed. Twice. I was knocked sideways into the middle console from not only the impact, but also from the airbag deployment. I have always heard airbag horror stories about people's faces, chests, ribs, being broken upon deployment. As I am vertically challenged, I was so happy with the adjustable pedals on the F150. It allowed me to be able to move the seat back so I wasn't five inches away from the steering wheel. Soon after my last scream, I did an evaluation, telling myself I wasn't dead and that was good.  I look down at my hands (why do we always do that?) and notice my left arm is looking a little like an "s". "That's not right." I noticed everything on the vehicle shut down. There was nothing working ... except the radio. The satellite tuner had been plugged in and it was on something like "top 20" whatever.  But I looked over and the tuner had come unplugged and the radio had tuned to another station. It was a sermon. Did I mention that EVERYTHING ELSE electrical in the vehicle was not operational? No lights, I couldn't roll down the windows, nothing. Weird. But wait, I smell smoke. I smell burning.  I don't want to burn, I don't want to burn. I see shadows outside the vehicle, so I start yelling at someone to please open the doors. Open the door. Open the door. I don't want to burn.

A good samaritan, one of several, yanked and yanked on the door until he could get it open.  Finally. I was able to get fresh air. I then realized it was not smoke or fire, but the chemicals from the airbag. There were several people outside the vehicle and I could tell there were others over near the other vehicle. I kept asking if the other driver was okay, but no one would tell me anything. "Don't worry about him." I thought he was dead and they just didn't want to tell me.  Someone had called 911 and they were asking about injuries. I showed her my arm and told her I couldn't feel my feet.  Help was on the way. I was trying not to lose it, asking about the other driver. No one would tell me anything.

One of the ladies on the scene went around and got in the backseat to talk to me and help me stay calm.  Turns out she was the attendance lady at Scootie's high school. They asked me if there was anyone they should call.  I told them to contact Marv. The 911 personnel kept trying to call Marv, but he had just fallen to sleep. Anyone who knows Marv knows he does not like to be disturbed after he's fallen asleep, especially after having worked a double. Marv ignored the phone as long as he could before snatching it up.  "Katie's been in an accident." Now, this was not an unusual car for Marv to get. You see, I seem to be a magnet. People LOVE to run into me, though usually it's minor. A fender-bender, if you will.  Did you remember I was driving the nice, new truck? Yeah.

Emergency crews began to arrive. I was trying to stay calm. I knew these people. Well, I know them, but I don't KNOW know them. You know?  People are shining lights in my eyes. "Did you pass out?" "Did you hit your head?" "What hurts?" There's people everywhere, I'm stressing, I'm still trying to find out about the other driver. I just know he's dead. Then, I hear a voice I recognize. It's our friend, Maximum Justice. He lives right down the road from the accident scene and knew he could get there before Marv. I still don't know how he heard about the accident. At that moment, I knew everything was going to be okay. I could breathe. Someone I KNEW was here with me. I have told him before (several times, in fact) but MJ will never know how much it meant to me for him to be there.  MJ finally told me the other driver was okay but did have some injuries (he had a broken femur and some type of injury to his collarbone). I kept looking for Marv, but I couldn't see him. I didn't hear him.  Turns out, as Marv was headed to the crash scene, he was almost involved in a head-on collision when a motorcycle crossed the center-line into his lane. 

The rescue personnel pulled me out of the vehicle and placed me on a backboard. If you've never experienced this, and I hope you don't, you'll have the WORST headache before they get you off the thing. Anyway, as they're about to load me into the ambulance, I finally see Marv. The first thing I said was "It wasn't my fault," but I think he figured that out.  Did I mention Nascar was in town?  No?  Well, it was. I didn't get one of the nice, new, high-dollar ambulances. Oh, no. I was loaded into a "back-up." All the good ambulances were at high-volume stations or at the track. Yay! When you have a back-up ambulance, it is not as well-stocked as one that is used every day.

So, I'm in the back of the ambulance and I hear things like "fracture", "compound fracture", "laceration", etc. I realize they are talking about me. I mean, I know my arm was messed up, but I had no clue.  I also hear Marv about to argue with the ambulance personnel. They are trying to refuse to let him ride with me saying there won't be room for him with me on a stretcher and two of them in back. Let's just say Marv won that argument. The AmbuBoys start pulling out wraps and gauze and lines for an i.v. I told them I had very small veins (why can't the rest of me fall in line with that?) and they would need to use a butterfly needle. Back-up ambulance, remember. No butterfly needles. They then proceed to stick me in the right arm (the only appendage I have that does not have any trauma) about 15 times trying to get a vein. No luck. Then it's on to the back of the hand, about five or six times. No luck. They finally are able to get a doctor on the radio to request a stop-over at the local hospital (I have to go to the big ATL to a trauma center) to stabilize me and then fly me to Atlanta Medical. Doc, of course, says no can do. They are full up and by the time they do all that they could have me at AMC. Oh, did I mention there's a rookie driving? Hitting every pothole? I forgot that part? So sorry. It's SUCH an integral part of the story because as everyone knows, if they can't get an i.v., you get no fluids and NO PAIN MEDICINE. The whole time I have two AmbuBoys and Marv looking at me and talking about how they would be screaming. I still didn't know at this point exactly what was wrong. I was just trying not to cry and scream my head off. I think I definitely surprised Marv, but I know I surprised myself.  I just kept telling myself it could have been a whole lot worse.  And, I remembered everything my Auntie BJ had gone through years ago when she was hit by a woman who ran a stop sign.  My Auntie BJ was so brave and fought through so much. I knew I had to try to be half as strong as she was during her recovery.  After everything they had tried, and kept trying, the AmbuBoys finally got approval for a direct shot of some morphine to "take the edge off" ... when we were getting off the exit ramp in the ATL. Did I mention potholes before? ATL is built on potholes. Yay!

I have to say, I was still doing pretty well ... until I got in the trauma room. Those places are CRAZY! I had people yelling, yanking on me, moving me from the stretcher to a trauma bed. A nurse climbed on top of me and got right in my face. All I could see were her eyes and a blue mask and she's asking so many questions. "Did you hit your head?" "Did you lose consciousness?" "Do you have any pain in your abdomen?" And on and on and on.  The AmbuBoys are shouting out numbers and all the trauma personnel are asking why there's no lines.  Marv is being shuffled down the hall and I lose sight of him. I'm doing okay, but I'm starting to panic.  There's too much going on and I can't see anything except this person in my face and then ... AAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!! Someone has taken their fingers and stuck them inside the open wound on my right calf (from an apparent compound fracture). Totally unexpected and it BURNS. Someone has taken a fire poker and stuck it in my leg. I couldn't help screaming. Everyone around me starts screaming. I hear someone yelling at whatever jerk did this not to touch me again. "No one touch her again until we can get some meds in her!" Turns out it was an intern and this particular intern apparently had a hearing problem because next thing I know, someone is taking my left foot and rotating it and STICKING THEIR FINGER IN THE OPEN WOUND!" AAAAGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!! More yelling, the doctor throwing someone out of the room and threatening everyone if they touch me again. I'm APOLOGIZING to Mask Face because I yelled. I just wasn't expecting it. Then, I'm out.  Apparently, this is the point where they stuck a FIVE INCH LONG WIRE into my neck, directly to my heart because they couldn't get a line anywhere else. One working appendage, no good veins, no good for me.

Meanwhile, the ER waiting room is filling up. I can't tell you to this day who all was there waiting with Marv. I just know we have a bunch of great friends. They stayed with Marv and my sisters and my dad and took care of them while they were waiting on news about me. From what I understand, they took me into surgery right away, but only to stabilize me. The serious stuff would come later. I had a fracture of the left fifth metatarsal (the bone on the outside of your foot), a compound fracture of the right tibia and fibula, fractures of the cuneiforms in the right foot (the bones on the top of your foot) and fractures of the left radius and ulna. I was a mess, but it could have been worse. I was in the ICU for 5 or 6 days and had several surgeries, one to alleviate what they call compartment syndrome in the right foot (the blood goes in, but doesn't want to come out).  I don't remember much about those days, but I do recall Cousin Mark coming in to check on me (he is a respiratory therapist at AMC) and Aunt Jean coming by one day. The rest, a blur. Apparently, someone decided it would be a good idea to put a phone next to me.  I immediately called Marv (who was and had been in the waiting room for days) asking why he hadn't come to visit me.  They took the phone away from me after that. Marv thought it was funny.

After the ICU, I had more days in the hospital. I had to learn how to do things with one arm and nothing else. That was fun. I have to tell you, it is quite humbling having to ask for help. Me being so stubborn and private, it was particularly hard. I've never been one for public displays of affection, or sharing information about personal habits. Trust me. Things got personal. That's all I'm saying. Sister L, who was job hunting at the time, stayed with me a good bit, alternating with Marv. I had a good many visitors including my cousin Nick (and cousin Sarah-A and their parents Little Ruth and "Shoulda Been My Brother" Scott) who said he never wanted to drive after visiting, my boss, my MIL Gwen. Aunt Sue and Uncle Wallace.  Niece came by and brought me a home made bowl in UGA colors filled with treats because I missed Halloween. I know it pained her to make it. She's delusional sometimes and thinks Tech is better.

We had to figure out what we were going to do with me when I was released from the hospital. Where was I going to stay (our house couldn't accomdate a wheelchair), who was going to take care of me, who was going to take me to doctor appointments, etc.  I had one more surgery, and then I could go. I had a filter put in to help prevent any blood clots going to my brain, which I thought was nice of them to give me. It looks like a littel upside down umbrella, just floating there in my artery. So special.  But then I couldn't stop worrying about getting blood clots.

 The first car ride home was traumatic. Not because Sister L was driving, as some might believe. It was just the first time I had been in or around a vehicle since the accident. I had my eyes closed the whole time, but was still panicked. Auto collision victim + ATL traffic = vomit inducing panic. But, I made it home (to Sister L, BIL Scott-dot and Dad's home). Then we began the "dance." How to get me out of the car, into the wheelchair and into the house. It helps to have pants with a slick butt and a board. We did it, finally and the "real" healing process began.

I won't go into all those details, but the days and nights ran together.  Sister L became a nurse overnight (no long study hours needed!), Marv worked at night, taking care of the kids and came over during the day before starting all over again. Sister D was there, too, in between work. My first night home, Mom and Auntie BJ brought by supplies for the long haul. Movies, gowns and pj's that would go over all my bandages.  Dad and BIL Scott-dot hooked up a t.v. Even though I was still drugged up and unable to concentrate, I was able to catch the Georgia game that day. I left a drunken birthday message for Auntie BJ. She still has it on her answering machine to this day. At least I remembered, right? After that, it was Food Network 24/7.  We figured out how to get me from the wheelchair to the bed to the toilet (thanks for sharing, right?) and back to the bed. Our friends Brian, Trisha and Meghan-Meghan came by to visit. I was worried little Meghan was going to be upset, but she just came over to me like she always does and gave me a big hug. This is when I found out Brian had been on his way home from work that evening, saw the truck as he passed the accident scene and then realized it was ours. NOT the best way to find out your friend has been in an accident.

After a few days, I was finally able to give my statement to Officer Randy.  Even though I see it every night when I close my eyes, it's still difficult reliving it. I remembered every detail.  I couldn't forget it. The driver of the other vehicle was an 18 year old boy who claimed his throttle stuck. He was going between 60-70-mph on that 45-mph road. Notice, I said "claimed." Over the course of the investigation, investigators from the police department and my insurance company would have to spend a lot of time and money disproving this claim.  All because this boy was over at a house he wasn't supposed to be visiting and his mother had caught him.  The person he ws visiting even told him when he was leaving not to drive fast. This is the part I don't understand. If you're already caught, why are going to try and rush home?  The case finally ended a few months ago with him pleading guilty to a felony charge of serious bodily injury (tell me about it). We decided instead of jail time he would perform a boatload of community service, but he would have to do this service with accident victims. I'm told he entered an "official apology" onto the record, but I wouldn't know. I was at home recovering from another surgery I had the previous day. To this day, I have not received any kind of apology. No call, no note, nothing. I MISSED MY DAUGHTER'S BIRTHDAY BECAUSE OF YOU, JERK! THAT is what angered me the most. I've NEVER missed one of my children's birthdays. NEVER.

I was hoping when this day came around, I would be "back to normal", whatever that may be. Unfortunately, that is not the case. After my last surgery in my arm when they removed one of the plates and the attached screws, it was discovered my radius had grown back in an hourglass shape (again, why can't the rest of me fall in line?) and was very weak. It will never grown back to the normal size. It was always be prone to breakage. My doctor's advice? "If you start to fall, fall to the right." As for my foot/leg combo, it too is as good as it's going to get, which sucks.  After my last surgery, where they removed the bottom screws from my rod, removed a nerve from mid-calf to mid foot, shaved the top of my foot and inserted two more plates with screws on the top of my foot, I still walk with a limp and have constant pain. I have some circulation issues which causes my leg to go numb and my feet to feel like they're freezing. When they first inserted the rod in my leg, they had to go through the tendon in my knee.  That now is filled with scar tissue, causing constant pain and weakness in the knee.  I was told if they went in to attempt to remove the scar tissue it would just cause more damage. Oh, and my doctor said I would be having more problems in a few years with the plates in my foot and would most likely have to have more surgery. Yay! Again, no apology.

If you've made it this far, I know you're thinking this has been the longest post ever.  But I just wanted to put it out there.  Sometimes, you get asked politely, "How are you doing?" But most times, I've found, people just want you to say, "I'm doing okay." So most days that's what I say. But most days I'm not. I know there are people who are dealing with things much worse than my problems. I know that. But some days, I'm just not having a good day. I've only broken down twice. The first was a few days after I came home from the hospital. I was tired, hurting, frustated and angry (Turns out, the next moring at about 4am I woke up with a kidney stone).  I waited until I was alone in my room with Marv and I just started bawling. I didn't want the kids to see me that way. I cried it out and let it go.  

I am so thankful for all of our families, friends and co-workers. I am thankful for everyone I work with that donated time to me so I wouldn't have to worry about losing my job. I'm thankful for the friends I used to work with that tried to donate time, too. I received donations from people whom I've never met. Family members cooked meals, brought movies, helped with my Scootie and Sissy. My Auntie BJ who religiously took me to therapy and then on "field trips" so I wouldn't go stir crazy and o.d. on Food Network. My Sister D who took me to my office for a Thanksgiving meal. I would like to thank Ford Motor Company. Had I not been in the F150 that evening, I would not be here. How weird am I that I though about writing a thank you note to Ford? I just wish I had been able to get a new truck. Man, I liked that truck.

When I was wheeled into the family Thanksgiving, I just started bawling. I was so grateful I was there. I love my family. I don't know what I would do without them. I really don't know what I would have done if Marv's family hadn't been there to carry me, wheelchair and all, up the stairs. I know they were thankful at Christmas I was using a walker. 
 
And my Scootie and Sissy. They were the best. I hated that they had to see me in the ICU with all the wires and tubes but you never know what will happen. They took it all in stride and did the best they could. They have done so much for me and still do.  They only get mad when I tell them I don't want them "running up and down the roads." They've both had to wait to get their driver's permits. I just didn't feel they were ready. They don't agree. We battle. I usually win. I just want them to understand how hard it can be as a parent. I don't want one of my kids to cause something like this to happen. I know it's unreasonable. I know adults cause accidents, too. I'm just going to stay unreasonable.
 
If you've read through the whole thing, I thank you. I know I've left a lot out, but I could go on and on about all of the people who have helped me. You'd be here for days.  In the end, I've made progress.  I'll never be "as good as new." Not even close. But I'm lucky. I know that. Some days it just sucks though, especially when you can't wear cute shoes.


I know you're sitting there thinking, "I thought you said there were graphic photo's?" Well, there are. Here are some before and after shots. Oh, and one more thing. If you haven't ever seen my scars, the first time you do, please don't say, "Oh, man, your foot IS a mess. I know you were in an accident, but I've never seen the scars."  Thanks. If you don't want to see them, quit here.

The black part? The INSIDE of my foot. Compartment Syndrome. Drainage tubes. Yay!

My foot in Saran Wrap to keep out germs.

I DO NOT remember this. The bruise is from being slammed into the console. The tubes in the side of my neck, you ask? A "pick" line going directly to MY HEART. Let's keep the germs out of there, too.

The inside of my forearm. After the 2nd surgery, it was extended in both directions. Yay!

A matching set! The outside of my forearm.

That lovely little device is what holds the middle of your foot together when it blows up...until it decides to sink into your foot.

Notice the pre-accident toenail polish

scars, scars for everyone!

*Turns out, my email server is down so I can't get to the photos of what my arm and foot look like today. Just imagine the scars above longer and more pronounced, especially on the foot. So lovely.  The top of my foot looks like a map to nowhere when they had crappy equipment to make roads and no one cared if they were straight. Oh, and it looks like I'm smuggling two squares of a Hershey's bar under the skin on top of my foot. Nice image, huh?

** Finally got the pictures off my server.

Forearm. And yes, after two years and multiple surgeries it IS that swollen.

Again, swollen.

See the Hershey Bar hump? And THAT is an improvement.

One more quick note: I had received a roll of Christmas gift wrap THAT I BOUGHT FOR CHARITY earlier that day and it was in the back floorboard. When I asked about later, it was gone. MY CHARITY SANTA CLAUSE GIFT WRAP WAS STOLEN.  I shall show you:

See?

The next day? GONE. (Pay no attention to all the other crap)

Things around the house ...

I've noticed something odd lately. Things aren't going so smoothly at The Gardens. SOMEONE, who shall remain nameless MARV, has a problem. Some people might call this cantputitwhereitbelongs-itis. I just call it annoying.

People, we don't live at the Ritz where they're all fancy-schmancy and have phones in the bathroom next to the bidet. And while it is a cordless phone and you CAN take it in the bathroom, that doesn't mean you SHOULD. I won't even go into talking on the phone in the bathroom where the poor unfortunate soul on the other end of the call might hear your innermost (that just became your outermost) bodily functions. Unless it's a tele-marketer. But, if you do, can't you take it back to its home?

This next one flummoxed me. I could not conceive the reasoning behind this one. maybe you can explain it to me.

Seriously? How much effort does it take to replace the toilet paper roll? I mean, honestly. This is the point where Marv will say something like, "I couldn't replace it. I was on the phone."

In other news, it finally got below 50 degrees over the weekend, so we built a fire. SOMEONE in this house likes being warm and toasty. That's all I'm saying.

I had to resort to buying bundles of firewood 'cause SOMEONE (Marv) didn't get a truckload before the cold snap *AHHH SNAP!

Proof the zombies are after me ...

How weird is it that I just noticed my post entitled "Blood Buddies" is right next to my post about zombies? Weird, coincidence or zombidence? Hmmm?

Phoofs Don't Lie

So a co-worker (whose name sounds like a fruit) and I are currently engaged in an ongoing war. 

It's not over office supplies, or who drank the last Pepsi ( killing offense) or even anything remotely office related. We are at war over a statement he made about one of our mutually favorite television shows.

Recap: At the end of last season on NCIS ( The original, not NCIS, Los Angeles. I'm a purist.) Ziva was left to stay behind with her father in her role as an agent for Mossad. In an aside, I don't blame Gibbs for one bit. I mean, what was she thinking hooking up with Rivkin? Especially when the sexual tension between her and Tony is so obvious. AND, Tony is funny. Rivkin? Not so much.

Anywho, when we were left in that uncomfortable cliff-hanger in the season finale, all the phoof showed us was a captive in Somalia wearing a Star of David necklace like Ziva's.

Original image borrowed from: http://ncis.wikia.com/wiki/Ziva_David

Of course, co-worker, who is OBSESSED with Ziva was distraught and went so far as to say "Ziva won't be back next season." To which I said, "pshaw." Co-worker proceeded to barrage me with internet scuttlebutt of nay-sayers who were ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN Ziva was not coming back and the show was replacing her. I, who am a TRUE FAN, responded with more intelligent come-backs like, "yeah, right" and "whatever."  But, I did manage to get the last word in this first battle. Co-worker continued to spout off the "truths of the internets" and I continued to make my arguments that the producers of this show are not stupid and know what a gold-mine they have in the Ziva-Tony-Gibbs triangle (yes, I know most people think she has a Daddy complex for Gibbs, but sometimes ...). Co-worker then stated again, and I qoute, "Ziva won't be back. You watch." My winning response? "We'll see."

So, of course, after the season premiere, I was gloating. I have to admit, at first I was concerned. When the phoof came up, I thought I was going to be right. But then, BUT THEN, it was TONY in the chair, captive. And this Saleem guy starts giving Tony truth serum and Tony is all crazy thinking Ziva is dead and then ... IN WALKS ZIVA (oh, and McGee was on the floor the whole time acting all passed-out-y). HAH. ZIVA IS BACK!

This, dear readers, is when you say, okay, war over. 34milepizza wins. That's what I said! Well, co-worker comes into the office and I'm all HA! I was RIGHT! And he ... he ... TOTALLY DOES NOT GIVE IN GRACEFULLY. He starts back-pedaling, saying she's back but "she's not right."

Ladies and Gentlemen, we have been having these mini-battles for the last four weeks.  Four weeks in which ZIVA was IN EVERY EPISODE and has now become a full-fledged "probie." I know her father has not given up and wants her back at Mossad, but the point is, I WAS RIGHT. Here is the mini-battle from this week as conducted through Facebook.

As you can see, he is still using the lame "but she's not right" argument. LAME-O INSANE-O (I know, how third grade is that?). Now, I shall wait in my office for said co-worker to come in today and bow down gracefully at my feet and GIVE IN. Because that's the only respectable thing to do. After all, I am the one who controls his access to his Ziva background and Ziva screensavers. MWAH HA HA HA.

I think I'd have to kill this kid ... and give the dog a bone

NieNie on Oprah!

NieNie is on Oprah today. I'm kicking myself that I forgot to set my DVR, but I found the story here.  And the link to a video about Nie Nie's daily life here. Of course, you can always follow Nie Nie on her blog at the Nie Nie Dialogues.

I can't help it ...

I have a confession ...  I'm a

If you don't know what the big deal is ... go here. I LUV LUV LUV this show. Big thanks to Scootie for making my Glee flag fly.

More Zombie Stuff

Here are some more photos from Scootie's weekend adventure ...

Blood Buddies

Last week, I went to Atlanta Motor Speedway to donate some of my innards juice (nice, huh?) My dontation this time was in partnership with the American Red Cross and the Nascar Foundation. In return for someone getting a little something from me, I was able to get a ride around the track in a pacecar* and a bag o' swag. I encourage everyone to donate, and check out this site to see if Nascar is having a donation event in your area. I'm donating again in December.  It's especially important to donate around the holidays because those are notorious shortage months. After the last two years, I have been incredibly lucky in not having to be a recipient. But, you never know. If I had needed it, someone else would have been there for me. So go out and donate, take your friends (tell 'em Edward needs them!), do some good for very little effort on your part and help save three lives every time you do!

* I didn't partake in this little event. I think when I told them I would need to drive due to control issues, they rescinded my invite.

Teddy Bears can kill you ...

CUTE LITTLE BEARS FOR HUGGING

Didn't this lady know they make stuffed bears for a reason? When are people going to learn that animals meant to live in the wild should LIVE IN THE WILD?!

You're probably saying "then why do we have animals in zoos?" Theoretically, zoos are supposed to be a learning environment for the public and most of the animals in the zoos are rescued either from bad health situations, fear of extinction or because someone decided a BEAR should be a PET. NO. NO. NO.

BIG HUGE BEAR NOT FOR HUGGING

... and don't even get me started on what happened here.

I should have had a contingency plan...for zombies

I should have followed along with the University of Florida and had an emergency contingency plan for an attack of the undead. Alas, I didn't really see the need...until last night when this showed up in my house:

Here's a better look at Scootie and friends:

which is much different from how Scootie and friends usually look:

Yesterday was the 4th Annual Zombie Walk in Atlanta presented by Atlanta Horror Fest. There were hundreds of Zombies walking around downtown ATL yesterday and luckily (for Woody Harrelson) it coincided with the opening of his new movie Zombieland (filmed in and around the ATL). Scootie and friends were along for the fun and Scootie ended up in the AJC. Can you imagine innocently waiting to get on the MARTA train and seeing hundreds of zombies? I think I'd have to wait for the next train.

You can see more photos here, and here.

Who IS this kid?

I don't know who this girl is... She can't be MY Sissy.  MY Sissy would never eat something with all those little dangly legs flopping around all over the place. MY Sissy would never dig around an appetizer plate LOOKING for only the ones with the little dangly legs.  MY Sissy would never hold these over her mouth, let the little dangly legs spin around and drop it into her mouth (she was taunting me, people). Ugghhh! 

I have tried over the years not to influence my kids with my lack of culinary imagination. It's strictly meat and potatoes for me folks. I've always encouraged my kids to at least try something once. If they don't like it after that, okay. At least they've tried it. But, this? Ewwww. This girl doesn't like a good, old-fashioned sloppy joe, but she'll eat calimari?! What kind of sense does that make? NONE.

Holes...

In my previous post, I alluded to the hole-digging capabilities of Scootie. However, I managed to completely take up a whole huge post with pictures from the bridge-building (which was MOMENTOUS!) and didn't include any from Scootie's work. So, without further ado, here is what Scootie has assisted me (and Auntie BJ) with over the last few weeks:

Crepe Myrtles to the left and right of the drive ... sets of three (you can also see drainage correction work by Cam and Rip with the trusty bobcat)

Spider Lillies                                                            Purple Passion (or Purple Heart)

I forgot to write down the names of these plants for posting purposes, but I did make garden markers for each of them with teak stakes carved with the names using my handy-dandy Dremel. Love to Dremel! That is hands down the BEST tool ever.