A Hospital is For Rest. Right?

Well, Mother Nature has been promising rain all day, the sky covered in heavy gray clouds, and now finally, she's making good. Thunder is rumbling somewhere south of here and seems to be getting closer. The rain started to fall in tiny drops as I was leaving the hospital and now home, it is falling heavier.

I just got in from a visit with Mags who is still not feeling good. Her lungs are in bad shape. She is on oxygen and still getting breathing treatments with Albuterol. The most crucial part of her recovery, rest, is not available to her because of her roommate. Her roommate is an 84 year old woman who, apparently has dementia. The woman shouts and yells all day. Her kids (who are in their 50's and 60's) come to see her and they don't talk to her. They yell. Mom is as deaf as a rock even with her hearing aids, and everything must be screamed into her tiny little ears. So they yell back and forth to each other for all of the alloted 10 hours of visiting time. She howls all night. For the nurse to come. For my wife (who she is convinced, has a twin sister staying in the room with them) to help her in and out of her bed. (She's actually always in bed) She hallucinates and one of them she was sure as certain that her doctor called her and told her she had a brain tumor and apparently she called all her kids in the middle of the night to tell them this. She yells for her kids at one in the morning. Mags has not had more than one night of sleep. That one night was her first night when her roomie a pleasant little old lady of Czechoslavakian decent. Sadly she left. The room. Not like 'this World' or anything...

Anyways. The nurses have had to come in and tell her to be quiet several times per night because she is disturbing her roommate. She becomes beligerent and this goes on and on. I wondered aloud why they couldn't just give her a little sumpin' in her Taipoca to knock her ass out, but apparently that is not allowed.

Today, after yet another night of no sleep because of Mamma CuckoPants, Mags demanded her roommate be moved. They told her no, but we can move you. Mags was like "no freakin' way. I was here first and I have a window view. Besides I'm not the problem." So her nurse today (who was excellent by the way) told her problem patient was being moved. Never happened. Hopefully tomorrow.

She'll Be Getting Her Own Parking Spot Soon

I speak of my lovely wife, who is hospitalized. She has been sick for some time now and this past weekend she was really down and out. I mean this girl is tougher than Chinese arithmetic but man oh man, she was worn out. She had run a fever since Thursday, alternating freezing, sweating buckets and slept alot. A-LOT. Not to mention the horrible cough than had her awake most of the nights. Not only does that hurt your ribs, throat etc, but it is also tough on your ticker.

On Monday she finally decided to go to the ER and she was promptly admitted.

She is receiving IV antibiotics and steroids. Plus breathing treatments and she is on oxygen. I went for a brief visit tonight and she seemed better although the cough is lingering. Hopefully she will be home tomorrow or Thursday.

She is in good hands as the staff at CentraState is taking excellent care of her.

Now We're Talkin'

$5605.00

I Smell a Rat..and See One Too

So this morning started early. I awoke with Mags and trudged downstairs to make her tea at 430 or so. She, in the meantime, had gotten up to take a hot hot shower hoping that the heat and steam would warm her and help clear all the crap out of her head/nose area. While she was showering I stripped the bed and threw the sweat soaked sheets into the wash. Mags went down to the chair and put a movie on while I crawled into the bed in the guestroom and was able to get a nice hour nap in.

After that I went out to our shed. The shed needs to be cleaned up once or twice a year and Thursday when retrieving the mower, I noticed all the bags in the shed..grass-seed, rose fertilizer, grass fertilizer, etc, etc had massive holes chewed in them. As did the large plastic snap-top container which held bird seed. Now these holes were too big to be made by the resident field mouse. I suspect a rat and when I put the mower away, something small, fast and hairy darts into the corner. I'm too tired and a little leery of tangling with a rat. So this morning I go to the shed, pull everything out ans sweep up mounds of bird seed, grass seed and rat poo. I dispose of all the offending stuff and start to put everything back into the shed.

I feel that the wee beastie must be in there still and when I almost done I decided to check my golf-bag. I lift my nine iron and sure enough, like he is being shot out of a cannon, a rat propels himself out of my bag, off my chest, down my leg and into the woods behind the shed. I close up the shed, go to the house and wash my hands with anti-bacterial soap three or so times and now I'm searching the web for ways to get rid of said rodent.

PS... anyone want to buy a set of golf clubs?

The News Makes Me Angry Sometimes..Some Examples...

Long time no post..I know...chalk it up to nothing but laziness and a lack of anything to say. Amazing, right. At the moment, Mags is sick. She is battling a horrible cold and is down and out. Thankfully, Nurse Connor is on the job.

So I enjoy the news. Mostly. I like to know what is going on in the state, country and around the world. However, lately I'm seeing alot of stuff that is well, pissing me off. I enjoy the better side of news, as we all do, but there are things that make me say "what the f*ck". Here are some examples...

~In India recently a 12 year old girl died from massive bleeding while giving birth. Yes. Giving birth. Her 44 yr old husband was said to be somewhat distraught, but he did have a nice little 13 year old at home doing his laundry and plucking a chicken for dinner. 12. say that out loud. 12. years. old. Married to a 44 year old man. Earlier in the week, in elsewhere in India, a 42 year old man beat his 10 year-old wife almost to death. 10...A lot of poor families sell their kids into marriage because the pervs that 'buy' them promise to provide a good home and not to have sex with them until they are of age.

Both of these guys need to be kicked in the sac with such extreme force that professional boxers will watch and grimace. Maybe we should have professional boxers..or maybe some UFC dudes

( or dudettes) do it.

Am I wrong here? And please, I don't want to hear any of that "but it's their culture" bullshit. A 44 year old man has no right being married to, never mind having sex with, a 12 year old girl.

I could go on and on, but man, what else can you say??

~Four young dudes from Hofstra were falsely accused of forcible tying a girl up and raping her. The girl later recanted and said the sex was consensual. She said she made up the story because she didn't want people to think she was...well.. a slut. Well, we now we know that, not only are you a slut, you're also a liar. Super. The good news is the kids were aquitted of said crime. After having their mugs splashed across the newswires with the word 'rapist' attatched to them.

~A guy from right here in New Jersey has been sentenced to 4 1/2 years in prison after being convicted of his...are you ready...? 16th drunk-driving conviction. Yes. 16. There were 16 seperate times when this idiot was nailed behind the wheel while he was drunk. 16 seperate time he could have killed an innocent person or persons. The good state of New Jersey felt that after 16 DWI offenses, maybe this guy may or may not have a problem and maybe they should do something. He has had his license revoked for 39 years. His license has been suspended 78 times in the 24 or so years he has been driving. That's about every three months.

Sorry for the bummer entry...I'll work on something funny for tomorrow.

A Full Day

So yesterday started like any other day. CrazyDog panting by our bed needing to empty his tiny little bladder at around 550 am. We were both up soon and Mags decided the mini-blinds in the living room needed washing. So after two cups of good strong tea, I filled the tub and proceeded to wash said blinds. All I can say is yuk. The blinds were dusty and had the hair of one certain cat whose name will go unmentioned on them. It took me the better part of two hours but all the blinds were washed and rehung to the approval of Mags.

We then decide, well, Mags decided, we needed new valances in the living room so it was off the BBandB to see what they had.

Before I go any further let me say this. In central New Jersey the weekend is a very busy time for our stores here. Very. Busy. I say this because usually finding a parking spot is harder than I dont know what ( I really have nothing clever to put ehre. Sorry. It's still early)

We rolled into the parking lot and it was packed. I got that feeling in my head that I usually get when I go shopping and pulled into the first aisle we came to. Well, the shopping gods must have been smiling on us because as we came up the aisle, a woman in the first freakin' spot was leaving! Woo-Hoo! Maybe this won't be so bad...

We did not find a valance but we did run into Jen and Carly who used to live next door to us before fleeing the nuttiness of Joisey for the humidity and bugginess of Florida. They were back less than two years later. Carly is the youngest of Jenn and Ed's two girls and man is she getting tall..only 8 and almost as tall as me. OK, maybe that's not a good guide...never mind. We chatted with her and then headed up to Ruby Tuesdays in our local mall for lunch.

The mall parking lot was the same. Packed to the gills. We did, again, get lucky and score a spot right near the front. Of course it helps that we have a handicap tag. Still...

Lunch was great. I had some Memphis dry-rub ribs and a Sam Adams Oktoberfest whilst Mags had some fried shrimp and her favorite drink to get at Ruby's, a Sangria. Which I think she enjoyed more than anything else. I knew she really liked it when she asked our server if she could get one in a 'sippy cup' to go. Our server told her no, but we left a nice tip anyways.

Off into the mall briefly.I stopped in at Teavana for some loose tea. The young kid who waited on me started running down a list as long as my arm..again, bad example..I stopped him and said "I just want something strong and black. Nothing fruity. Nothing flowery. Nothing that tastes like candy." He opened a tin and started waving it across the top, trying to get the scent to me. I pretended I approved even though I couldn't smell a darn thing. The tea cost me, for just over 3 ounces, 19 bucks. Hey. I like good tea. He tried to sell me a "Special loose-tea preservation container" for 27 dollars. It was really just a can with a snap lid on it. I laughed, "Seriously?" He just shrugged and said my tea would get stale if I did not but the tin can with the word 'Teavana' printed on it. I assured him I was willing to take that chance. He also, eager beaver that he was, tried to sell me a pound of said tea at the cost of 96 dollars. Yes you read that correctly. I, again, declined, and took my mere 3 oz.

Off to Sears for a shot at finding more valances but no dice. Mags was feeling a bit knackered so I walked back through the mall and out to the car and drove around to get her to save her the hoofing. (This is why I make her sit back and call her Miss Daisy).

We then visited my SIL Leslie who was in nasty car accident some time ago and is in a wheel-chair due to massive injuries to her leg. She was her usual chipper self ( it may have been the pain-killers really because her leg is really badly injured.) and we were, as always, welcomed warmly into their home. Bob, her husband, has been taking very good care of her, even sleeping by her bed for a week while she was in the rehab facility. Good guy that Bob.

We enjoyed about half an hour with them and then....yes there's more..we headed home. Or, should I say, towards home, passing and stopping at the local factory outlet complex. It wasn't awful. There were only about half a million people there. Ok, maybe 300 thousand...or thereabouts. Mags was dying to see the new Coach store. So I dropped her at the door (there was a waiting line outside..honest. Something silly about the fire-code or some such nonsense) and parked, again scoring a decent spot.

We waited to get in and once finally in the door, I think I heard Mags heart do an extra flutter. This girl loves her purses and this was a fine moment for her. The prices were great and she spent some time perusing before settling on two new bags for herself. She was very happy with her finds and she really needed to get herself something. She hasn't bought herself anything in a long time. She spent the money she received for her birthday on bills and part of it went to repair my car. So I'm happy she got something nice.

Wheff...ok I think that's it.

So I'm Laying Awake Thinking the Other Night...

So I'm thinking the other night ( yes sometimes I really do) and the darnedest things cross my mind.

Seen here is my youngest sister Jen who passed in June 0f 07 ( I still cannot believe it's been two years ). So anyways, while I think of her often I found myself the other night laying in bed staring at the ceiling, waiting for my delivery from the Sandman when I started recalling something to do with Jen that really irked me.

When Jen was younger, she was on an all-girl softball team. She was decent in the field, she played shortstop I think, and could really swing the bat. As one of my friends can attest to. He pissed her off one day at our house. He was probably 13 and tall for his age. She was, I'm guessing 9 and a runt. She told him to stop and he continued. We all knew this would lead to trouble as Jen was born with an extra helping of 'fiesty'. She promptly returned with an aluminum baseball bat and chased him down the hill and around the corner where she eventually got a shot in at his ankle.

Any ways, my point is, she could handle a bat. Now what made me mad was this. Her coach, who ironically was a woman who walked with two crutches, had a military (men's) hairdo, coke-bottle glasses, and was born with an extra-helping of nasty; would never let Jen take her cuts.

She would say "go in there, scrunch way down so they can't pitch to you, and take your base."

ARRRRGGHHHH! You could see the frustration on Jen's face as she 'took her base'. Jen knew it was a cheesy move and wanted to let rip with the ol' Louisville Slugger. The one time she disobeyed and had at it, she tagged a nice shot down past the third base man for a single.

Is that weird that that would bother me 25 years later? Or am I just weird?? Be honest....I can take it.

Lucky Number 7

So yesterday was our anniversary..Luck number 7.

Every year I try and do a 'Happy Anniversary' Post but last night I just did not get to it.

Mags and I have been through a lot together. Too much for some people I guess. But together we plod on. I wish I made more money so she could quit her stressful job. She's a very good person and deserves to at least have a good job. I mean, she's already got a great husband, so really, isn't that half the battle??

We are pretty good together I must say. We work well together. We are currently in a rough patch, given the illness of her Dad and Grandmother and the stress of her job. But we will survive. Hey Hey. We will survive....sorry

Every year we treat ourselves to a nice Anniversary dinner. So this year we go to Longhorn for our anniversary last night and we arrive early and are seated right behind the hostess station. By the door. Not my first choice, but it is a nice place and i am, after all there to celebrate my 7yr anniversary with Mags.

Trouble begins when the only other two people in the place, who are seated right freaking, next to us, start talking. Well it was only one of them. A woman, who had to be in her 60's and her elderly mom. The mother was a small woman in a wheelchair, eating her apple-thinger desert. The daughter opened her mouth and started yelling to her mother like she was in Canada. I wish I could actually demonstrate this for you but the best thing i can tell you is to cup your hands over your mouth and scream like your getting an alien anal-probe.

"Mom!! How does it feel to be 85!!??" She then, in her best 'evacuate-the-building-there-is-a bomb-in-the-basement' voice, starts doing the math, out loud; trying to prove to her mom that she really is 85. The mother is silently praying for a jumbo jet to fall on her head.

The mother, looking shocked replies (quietly) that she would like to go back to the nursing home. The daughter insists, and people in the nearby Wal-Mart will attest to this, that "no she doesn't" (scream this like you're on fire)

The mother is quietly and quickly chipping away at her desert because her friends will miss her and she wants to get back. And her ears hurt. At one point she tells the daughter "Shut your gob and help me with this pie."

The yelling continues and we ask our server to be moved into another part of the building. She tells Mags 'sit where ever you want'. Mags pics a table across the street and we order.

Dinner was deelish and we enjoyed our anniversary meal very much. Mags even got some to take and had it again for dinner tonight.

We then went to see her Bubs and JW for an hour or so and now we are winding down. She on Yoville and me ...well..here..

So Happy Anniversary cutie!