Don't look.

Does this mean I can't look out?

Too late. 

See?  I told you not to look. 

May 21st, In a Place Far Far Away.

I've decided. 

I really have. 

Lounging here in this cold room with three wooly blankets and my sister's breathing machine humming away I really have decided that we have it all wrong back in the states. 

We spend at least 2/3's of our life.  No. We spend 32/33's of our lives working at jobs we really hate. Putting up with assholes who believe that their next big promotion is hinged upon them proving we are nothing and they are the next big god. 

We worry about having the money to pay for the ultimate Whirlpool front load washer and winning the lottery so we can finally buy a Wolff stove and building a place where we can put in a half acre swimming pond with an outdoor kitchen. 

And we work and toil and save for our someday. Our someday where we can live like kings. Where we can finally look back and say that it was all worth it. 

And I will tell you I am the biggest proponent of believing in being responsible

That means you work for four decades, you don't spend money frivolously. You save and work so that some day. 

Some day. 

Some day. 

Some day, you will have saved enough money to travel. 

And you decide to indulge. You study and research and study some more. And you find the perfect location. You decide on Italy. 

Italy. 

Oh, I remember that from high school. 

Something about Julius Caesar and Et Tu Brute and wine and the Christians and the Lions and whatever else you had to learn to pass a basic history lesson. 

But over three decades after high school you find those obscure facts are not just boring items you had to learn to prove you were smart on school. 

What?  You mean these people actually existed?

But wait, I digress. 

So we find a place to stay a few days in Italy. And since we are going from Venice to Rome anyway, we should spend a few days in Tuscany. 

You look and look and you hear of an uninterrupted town called Volterra. More research and you hear of something called an agriturismo.  You learn that's a working farm. By law, they must make more money off of the farm than they do their guests. 

Hours later you find something interesting. So you go further. You go to the first original photo web page, Flickr and search for the name of the place. You find someone's pictures. Someone from Amsterdam. Arno,  from Amsterdam has several photos of this rustic farm. 

You leave a comment asking for his advice. Several exchanges later you contact the owner and book your trip. 

More research, months go by and after a nightmare of planes trains and automobiles you pull up to a a lonely drive in the impossible hills of bright and dark green Tuscany. 

What awaits you is to absolutely die for. 

I'm not kidding. The scenery is breathtaking. I only wish the English language had better adjectives. 

And after your first two senses of smell and vision are overloaded you sit down to a genuine Tuscan meal. 

Let me make sure you understand this. Here in the good ol You Es of Aye,  we buy whatever is on sale at the Kroger store and we are great at cooking our dinner at 7 Pee Em and we clean the dishes at 7:30  and we sit in front of our big screen TV and chat with one another on Facebook and we wait until someday we can finally take our 12 1/2 day vacation of our dreams. 

And 4,724 miles away there are people who live every day along the Tuscan hillside, planting their garden, harvesting their olives for the presses waiting for some misguided Americans to come where they have dreamed all of their lives. 

I really don't want to go back to to hectic misguided life I live. 

Tonight, late tonight in this farmhouse, I am dreaming of being an Ex Pat. 

I no longer care about American politics. I no longer care how much money I have in Edward Jones. I no longer care about my pretty fully equipped red Lexus SUV. 

I look at these people who's lives are spent trimming the olive trees and harvesting their vegetables and herbs and who travel to the market each day. Who would never ever dream of cooking anything out of season.  They would sooner be part of the Estrucian tortures than cook something out is season. 

Those people who are smart enough to realize that true life is lived by pouring a cup of coffee in the morning while looking out at the most majestic of God's creation. Watching the shadows of the clouds playing peek a boo with the ever so green hillsides of Tuscany heaven. 

And they watch. And wait. 

For the clever Americans. Those that toil for sixty years so they can enjoy this piece of heaven on earth for 4 days. 

WHAT ARE WE THINKING?

Tonight, Ican honestly tell you I don't have a freaking clue. 

Last Night in Venice

And it feels like it's been a week. So far our time has been wonderful.

It's a tough trip, I won't lie about that. We travel well together, this little band of family. But the walking and walking and stairs and walking have my legs screaming.  My calf muscles are like rocks. But I can tell the stairs to our second story flat is getting just a tiny bit easier. 

Tonight we packed up our things as much as possible and then went to dinner. We found a small place that had great atmosphere. 

This morning it was very rainy as we toward the Rialto. As we came upon a Campo I saw the church doors open at Chiesa di S. Salvador. When I entered the outer doors I could hear the sound of the choir. Of course no cameras or video recorders are allowed. I creeped in the inner doors and it was as if I could hear angels singing. 

Then I did something I wasn't supposed to do. I snuck my IPhone quietly out of my pocket, kept it low  to my waist and hit the video button.  The sounds I got might just be worth the wrath if the angels. 

I would post the video if blogger was friends with IPad. Hopefully I can upload it to Mark's netbook later. 

Anyway the rain continued for most of the morning. Knowing we were leaving Venice tomorrow, Brian, Mark and Care Bear decided to go to the train station and get our tickets while Helen and I went back to a small Bar (Coffee shop) we found yesterday. 

While we were finishing our cappachino and pastries Brian called to say the boat would not be running until the afternoon and they were coming our way, perhaps a three minute walk. 

Fifteen minutes later he called to say they were lost. I went out and gave them a couple of cross streets. They thought they were close. Thirty minutes later they were hopelessly lost, which is easy to do in Venice. 

They finally arrived and we all had a good laugh at their expense. Lots of walking later we found a place for lunch and then went up to our room. Helen crashed out for the afternoon and the rest of us went in hopes of going to St. Mark's Cathedral. Unfortunately they were not allowing anyone in and so we decided to go to the top of the Campanile. 

THAT was well worth it. 

Returning back to our apartment, Brian and Care Bear went to get tickets, Helen and Mark went shopping for a bit and I stayed in for an hour or so. 

Then off to dinner and another charming place and now we are finishing up the evening. Done packing, looking at pics and slowing down for the night at 11pm

Next is our favorite agriturismo which means we will not have access to any wi-fi. Which is bad, but it's really not. 

We might perhaps have access again on Friday when we arrive at Manarola in Cinque Terre. By then our legs will either be in great shape or be made of jello. Probably both. 

Buena Notte. 

Charming

We started off yesterday meeting up at my brothers' place separating the Euro into envelopes for each place we were staying.

We left Indy just after 1 p.m. heading to JFK.  

CnC was in the aisle for that flight. 

The flight to Venice seemed longer this time (9 hours) mainly because we had less leg room and less sleep. Then a fairly long boat ride to San Marco where we met our host who took us to our house we were renting. 

Up to the second story and we stepped out onto our small balcony at a glimpse of this. 

And it just kept getting better. 

It was fun watching my niece and CnC getting completely lost in the charm. 

If Blogger would let me post a video from my IPad I would upload the fabulous sound we heard here when someone had paid for a musician and a singer to join them on the gondola ride. 

We found a great place to eat pranza (lunch) and for one in his life just simply sat back and savored every bite of his spaghetti bolognese. Helen ordered the spaghetti carbonara, I ordered pomodoro. Carrie and Brian ordered margharetta pizza. Everything was fabulous. Of course we deliberately avoided the more touristy joints. 

After walking for a couple hours we came back to the flat and napped for a couple of hours. My sister, who is sporting a boot on her broken foot stayed back while the remaining four of us went out for pictures. 

The gondolas were beautiful. 

Then after wandering even more, we decided to grab a very late night bite. 

Only day one. And we feel a billion miles away from reality. 

Nice to have wi-if. 

We're here for three nights and then on to Volterra for four. We won't be online after we leave here for four nights. 

Buena Notte. 

I'm FREE!

Last day at my client's today. The last few months have been a real pain in the ass so I'm sure not shedding any tears. 

And tomorrow we leave for Italy. 

A couple of places we are staying have wireless so I might get a chance to post some pics and a few words if you're lucky. 

In the meantime, enjoy pics from four years ago. See you soon. 

Stealing the Spring Frolic

I was standing in line at the spring frolic with some of my friends when I heard a couple of kids yelling my name. When I looked over they were running towards me yelling, "You won. You won." 

I thought they were joking. Me?  Win?  I went running into the gym where the elementary school principal had just pulled my name from the list of entries to win a new bicycle. 

I had been Mr. Busey's favorite for a year or so. I don't remember why or how I got to be buddies with the principal, but it made me feel kind of special.   I ran up to the stage area and remember hearing the crowd clapping. It was surreal for a 5th grader who was known only for her new cats eye glasses and general nerdiness. 

And I was allowed to pick out my own bike from the Schwinn store. 

It was raining when Mr. Busey arrived at my house in his new car to take me to the Schwinn store. We arrived and much to his chagrin I wanted the boy's version of the banana seat bike. It was one cool bike. 

When we got back to my drive, it had been thundering. And as always was the case, our dog Rebel was panicked from the noise. Which unfortunately for me meant that he would go to any lengths to find a safe place. That safe place happened to be the inside of Mr. Busey's car when I was getting out. It was quite a wrestling match between a scrawny fifth grader and a 60 pound scared wet, muddy mutt. 

I still cringe thinking about  Mr. Busey's face as my stupid dog clawed his muddy paws all over the pristine car seats. I bet he is still cleaning those seats today mumbling under his breath.

But I had my brand new bicycle. I was the coolest kid in the neighborhood. 

(Close approximate without the front disk brake wheel and was all white, no sissy pink)

Everyone loved my new bike. 

Of course with time, I rode it less and less over the next couple of years. 

And one summer day I was outside with my brothers when one of their friends came riding up in one of their bikes. I was standing there while they were talking when I kept thinking that something wasn't quite right about this bike. It was obviously a pieced together job. 

I bent over to take a good look at the disk brakes on the suspicious looking front wheel. 

Now just wait a minute. 

I suddenly realized I hadn't seen my bike for a couple of weeks and here was this chopped up bike in my driveway that was sporting a front wheel that had the only disc brake around the wheel hub that was identical to mine. 

I knew right away it was mine. When we started questioning the kid, he made some lame excuse. 

We found the stripped skeleton of my bicycle up the creek about a 1/4 mile laying in the weeds. 

That was the last bike I have ever owned. Maybe one day I'll buy myself a new bike again. 

I'm still getting the banana seat again too.

Well Let's See If This Works

So apparently someone decided that blogspot should update to the last decade to figure out how to easily write a post from your IPad to blogspot and added an IPad app. 

I just found it tonight. I bought my IPad a few months ago. It's pretty easy to determine when it was because it was harder to compose a post on it and so my posts became even more infrequent.   It's also next to impossible to add a picture even worse a video. 

That was also about the time blogspot also decided you must type the HTML code to separate paragraph even though previous versions only required a return to separate the paragraph. 

So the above paragraphs are my test ones. 

Now we'll see if I can post a stinking picture. Hmmmm. Let me see what I might have in my little bag of tricks. 

Ah yes. Lisa Renna, whose lip job looks like a circumcision.   Why do these women think this looks good?

Ugh. 

Ok. First test. So far at least I like the ability to post a picture. 

Here goes. Lets publish. 

He's Baaaack

Finally Rumbles has arisen from the rubble.

And CnC 4.01 is stronger, better and heading to Italy with me, our sister, our nephew and niece next Thursday

I knew he was dying to go with us four years ago but his then last wife wouldn't hear of it.

That dead weight is now gone and it's time to fly!

Go talk to him. I've missed his stories.

Who Knows What Evil Lurks

At what point do governmental agencies become accessories to murder?

At what point do their deliberate choices to ignore the obvious and allow evil to continue do they themselves become evil?

When a series of governmet agencies and health agencies made choices over decades to continue to allow Dr. Kermit Gosnell to murder babies by taking a pair of scissors and severing the spine at the base of the neck of a baby that had been born alive after an attempted abortion. I shouldn't even refer to it as an attempted abortion as Gosnell's intent was to deliver the babies and then kill them. That's when evil becomes triumphant.

Late last week I decided I needed to read the entire Grand Jury report on the case. While it is some of the most horrific things I have ever read, I feel like I need to know. I think we sanitize ourselves too much from the evil that lurks in this world.

It's the same approach I take on September 11th each year. It's as if I'm fearful that if I do not hang on to at least one day in every year remembering what happened then its likely not to have held any significance.

I want to remember.

I need to remember.

And so it is with this evil.

After reading half of the Grand Jury report, I can tell you this is as much of an indictment against the abortion mills and those that support it as it is of Gosnell himself.

The report is rife with agency after agency that KNEW, they KNEW what was going on and they continued to look the other direction.

"Staloksi, the woman most directly responsible for the department’s oversight of abortion facilities, told the Grand Jury: 'I haven’t been in any facilities in probably – in an abortion facility in many, many years.' The citizens of Pennsylvania deserve far better from those charged with protecting public health and safety."

They SOOOOO wanted to have all types of abortion easy to get that they refused to even inspect the facility after reports were filed with the allegations.

Gosnell's "trip-up" was that he was also a pill mill. In fact he would still be slaughtering near-full term babies had it not been for the fact he was shut down in a DRUG investigation. Nothing was ever going to stop this murdering bastard had he stuck with slicing babies necks and infecting women with venereal diseases by reusing unclean instruments. Hell, he even used the same tubing to suck the baby parts out that he used for intubating the women to keep them breathing. If after reading that report you can ever again believe abortions are for "women's health", you are either lying to yourself or you're stupid. That the media wouldn't report this for years is telling. Only after FOX News continued to report it and it began spreading in the social media atmosphere did the diehard main stream media even pick it up. I would think the idiots would get tired of playing catch-up and start actually attempting to do their jobs.

Every single person that allowed this monster to continue should be indicted for murder. That includes those "mothers" that went to see Satan to murder their very own children.

I hope they return the feet that Gosnell kept as souvenirs to the "moms" so they can realize exactly what they have done.

There's a lot of blood here folks. Blood on the hands of a lot of people.

Now Wait a Damned Minute

Isn't the word verification on this stupid blog?

Somehow some bot has gotten through anyway. Now I'm pissed.

Silly Transactions

Some people might think so anyway.

Four years ago when we were planning our last trip to Italy, I really was intrigued by Rosetta Stone. The cost was just too high for what I knew would be a whim. To get the full set was somewhere in the neighborhood of 5 Franklins and I just couldn't justify that price.

So this time with some stash money whispering in my ear, my interest was peaked once again. Of course the itch grew worse while I was researching for the trip because nearly every site had a Rosetta Stone ad on the side. I clicked on the link a few weeks ago and saw that they now offer a 12 month online access offer at a reduced price over purchasing the program. Looking a little further indicated that the software also had an app for the IPad and IPhone. When I had just about decided to splurge I realized the 12 month offer had a drop down arrow. Hit the arrow and the deal was sealed. It was a three month subscription for $129.

I'm normally not one to blow money, but I figured for $129 I would certainly give it a try.

A few weeks into it and I can say I really do like it. Although I certainly won't be very proficient by the time we go in two weeks, I do think I will be able to pick out several words. And it's actually been kinda fun.

The only thing I could say that it needs is the ability to practice pronunciation when you are driving. There are no options to practice during times when you cannot keep your eyes on the software.

I'm almost finished with Lesson 1 out of 5.

Wish I had started sooner.

Why

That's all I really want to know.

Why?

>

But even if you could give me an answer I know that nothing can explain your actions. Nothing. No rationale, no reason, no excuse, there would be nothing you could tell me that would make your actions understandable.

But I want to know why.

What are the things that run through your head when you take such an action that can never be fixed, that will not leave bodies lying in the wake of your final selfish act? Is there not even one instance of thinking of what your actions will do to those around you? Are you so self-absorbed in your ultimate selfish act that you deliberately blind yourself to aftermath of destruction? Do you look around and think about exactly WHO it is you are hurting?

Did you not see the image of that young man, who had fought for his own life only five years ago, who bravely struggled to overcome a deadly disease only to have you decide to hurt him more deeply and lasting than the battle scars of a deadly disease?

Did you not see that bright hopeful young woman just finding herself in this world? Didn't you even consider how your ghastly action could extinguish that bright glow in her eyes? That your actions would possible change her inner beauty forever and that it could even be likely that you would leave her with the same emptiness that your own childhood left you with?

Was THIS the legacy you wanted to leave for your very own children? THIS?

To know that their father decided that ending his life, for whatever reason was more important than sparing his very own children a lifetime of despair. To know his final act was not one of courage, but the most selfish destructible act one person could commit.

So explain to me WHY, just WHY?

Tell me.

And I will hit you across the face as hard as my wimpy arms could and I would scream at you and tell you that you are the most selfish SOB I have ever met. That you have no excuse, no rationale, no RIGHT to do this to your family.

Nothing you have done in your life will ever EVER counterbalance your last goddamned selfish act.

You had no right to do this to them, I don't care what kind of pain, depression, moment of weakness existed. You had no right.

Bastards

Sixty Years - Five Weeks

Today my sister turned sixty.

Of course I'm the baby of the family so hitting the big 6-0 mark must be rubbed in thoroughly and well.

And five weeks from this morning we'll both be landing in Venice. Again.

The first time we did this was four years ago, just a couple weeks after I turned fifty. (Yes, I do realize you can probably do the math here. ). So it only seems fitting that we will celebrate her sixtieth in the same manner. Last time it was just three of us my nephew and I researched and researched where we wanted to go. This time my niece will also go, so it will be fun showing a newby around Italy now that we're old pros.

We are going to the same places, even staying at the same places as last time except for Venice because our flat was already rented. But this time we are adding a few more days, I only wish it could be a few more weeks.

Itinerary:

Indy to NY to Venice.

Venice to Volterra (Tuscany). Staying at our agriturismo, an olive farm where our hostess will conduct a private pasta class with my nephew taking pictures. One day trip to Sienna.

Volterra to Manarola. (Cinque Terre). A hiking town on the coast of the Mediterranean.

Manarola to the top of the Spanish Steps. A lovely private Bed and Breakfast owned by a classy lady from Philadelphia who once owned a dress shop in the same location

Day trip to Pompeii escorted by our good looking Italian driver we had the last time. Oh,oh,oh, those Italian men! Who cares if I'm old enough to be his mother?

So Happy Birthday to my sister. Love ya Heidi.

He's Alive

The ending still sends chills up my spine. (I just realized the irony of that statement).

Things are great. Until they're not.

Bob was feeling great yesterday. Wanted visitors.

Then when my family was visiting along with two of my great nieces who adore their uncle Bobby he dozed for just a second and then tried to bolt from the bed, still attached to the IV and the leg pumper things. I thought he was having a bad Vietnam nightmare.

I flew around the bed yelling at him to stop, I'm just imagining those screws in his spine are getting stripped at this point. My nephew is trying to grab him from the back, I'm attempting to tackle him like he's Andrew Luck and then Mount St. Helen erupted all over me, him and the bed. Panic was definitely in the room, I yelled at my niece to get a nurse, the walker was against the wall so my nephew and I are basically holding him up while he keeps saying he has to get to the bathroom. I was trying to get him to realize the damage was already done.

The nurses were finally able to get him unhooked and to the bathroom where he continued to get sick, which is just horrible given that he shouldn't be twisting his back at all.

The rest of the night was rough, had to take him off all pain meds. Has an intestinal obstruction. This morning they finally got approval to give him something which has only knocked off the edge slightly.

Said this was worse than Vietnam, but I suppose it's pretty close to the guys who were tortured in prison camp.

Up until Friday, he thought he was a man of steel. I think his girls thought he was too. Pain is the great equalizer. I'm sure the jumping up from bed wasn't on the doctors orders.

It's 6:20 a.m. now, and he's finally resting.

Thanks for the prayers.

Go Rest High on That Mountain

It's two o'clock in the morning here in room 2537. Feeding Bob ice chips. The damned alarm keeps going off that monitors the heart rate and oxygen level because it's not tight enough. Nurse is changing it now.

About 45 minutes ago my cousin's long battle was finally over. My brothers did such a wonderful job taking care of him. I had always assumed I would be there to help them in his finally hours, but God didn't really consult me on this one.

I hurt so badly for his family, especially his older brother who is still reeling from the shock of his beautiful bride of 30 years getting her horrible diagnosis last week, they had plans to come up and stay for the week and couldn't

But I can tell you this, I don't know of anyone else that is as blessed as I am to have such a magnificent, caring, loving family that will not hesitate to care for someone in the darkest days, doing the worst parts of a nurse's jobs only because of love. I know when dad was in his last days, I was amazed at the strength you can find and the things you can do because you know you have to.

I'm filled tonight with thankfulness that Bobby is okay, that I have such wonderful family, that my brothers were able to help Bill during his final hours and my nieces were there to assist. And such sadness of a life gone too soon ravaged by the bastard who's name is cancer and that his brother now has to be strong for his wife while she begins her own battle.

I would post the video, but Steve Jobs hated Bloggers so I can't do it on here. Here are the lyrics. So appropriate for tonight.

 

I know your life On earth was troubled And only you could know the pain You weren't afraid to face the devil You were no stranger to the rain

Go rest high on that mountain ‘Cause, Son, your work on earth is done Go to Heaven a shoutin' Love for the Father and the Son

Oh, how we cried the day you left us And gathered round your grave to grieve Wish I could see the angels’ faces When they hear your sweet voice sing

Go rest high on that mountain ‘Cause, Son, your work on earth is done Go to Heaven a shoutin' Love for the Father and the Son

Wanna Know What's Going On?

Bob's surgery tomorrow. Cousin moved in with my brothers back in November. Dying from his second bout of esophageal cancer. In the last stages now which means every hour's a challenge and requires round the clock care. Time is very short now. His older brother found out late last week that his precious, fit, healthy wife has cancer of the lining of the left lung. Chemo is starting soon, which means he won't be able to come up next week like he planned to visit with his brother one last time. I supposed God sometimes forces you in to setting horribly difficult priorities. Brother's hopefully soon to be ex-wife thinks she's entitled to his settlement while she screws around with her former boss. For some people greed and lust far outweigh being a decent human being. Of course she never used to care about reading his blog or mine until she starting sleeping with her boss so now I see her IP address show up on visits to this blog. Hope she comes by and gets her wish about reading about herself. Remember Carly Simon's You're So Vain? You probably think this post is about you. She's too stupid to realize her IP address gives her away. If ya got any prayers on your dot in the map our family sure could use one or two about now.

Aren't you regretting reading that horrible runon paragraph now?

Sorry, but it had to come out somehow. Now you know why I've been so silent these last few weeks.

When Will I Long For Snow

We made the decision 8 days ago.

We've been talking about it for years. It only makes sense, really. We have a beautiful place in Fort Myers. No, it's not on the beach. Four miles from the Gulf. And every winter, we say, "Someday" with a dreamer's whisper.

Someday, we won't rent it out to Snowbirds and hope they don't use an ink pen near the beige leather sofa.

Someday, we'll escape this God forsaken land of Indiana winters and motor our way south just after Christmas.

Someday, we'll head back north just at the time of year where Indiana becomes a beautiful blooming, sweet smelling, land that smells of ripe tomatoes, sweet corn in the field and where the golden finches sheds their drab colors of winter for that bright sunny coat of feathers.

Someday, we can enjoy the place that feels a little like home for only a week or two each year and some other couple settles in for a couple of months while we slip on the ice and curse the dreary February days.

The decision was made last week when I was driving into work thinking about Bob.

Six years ago we were closing on this new coach home. I was just recovering from double whammy health issues and starting with a new client on a long term project. Bob was traveling down to Fort Myers getting the place in shape, buying decor. Yeah, I can trust him with that, we actually nearly always agree in decorating. I think he has a bit of Queer Eye in him.

The builder had not thoroughly cleaned the tile floor of the grout. We had the furniture delivered the day after closing so we didn't have time for them to come back in with their industrialize-size cleaner. Bob scrubbed the tile floors for four days. Yeah, he also cleans.

When he got home he began complaining about his ankle. Months went by and he sees a few docs. They think he hurt his Achilles' tendon. More months, still issues. More months still issues. About three years ago he had me look at his right calf. I had not realized that his right calf had grossly deteriorated. He went back to the docs, they did an MRI of his spine, the neurologist thought his calf muscle had been destroyed by the injury cutting off the blood supply. We didn't ask for a copy of the MRI. Big mistake.

One quack said he needed to cut the muscle in half and reattach it. I'm not sure what that would have accomplished other than maybe the doc wanted to buy a new boat. Thankfully Bob didn't take his advice.

About 10 months ago Bob realized it wasn't just his calf that had deteriorated but also he could now be called a half assed man and he couldn't take offense. Obviously THIS wasn't the result of an ankle injury.

Back to the docs, another MRI. This time we got copies of all the records. The MRI indicated something about a spinal tumor not have grown much from the MRI from three years ago.

Yep, he had a tumor on his spine found in an MRI three years ago and we were never told. Does that happen nowadays? I cannot for the life of me understand why the neurologist didn't think it was important enough to tell us. Sure it's benign, but it's in his spine and his leg is deteriorating.

She did an EMG on the muscles in his legs and said they were very sick. At one point she said dead. Not something you want to hear. Her best guess was that maybe a nerve in the L5 area (low back) was being pinched from a small extrusion in a disk. She sent him on to a spinal surgeon to get his opinion. When Bob mentioned the neurologist the spine guy noticeably kept his opinion of her not looking into the tumor three years ago to himself.

The tumor appears to be about the size of the end of your little finger, but it appears to be blocking most of the spinal canal. And it's unlikely he will get any of the damaged muscles back. They have been starved for too long.

They have to cut out his L1 and L2, remove the tumor and screw the bones back together. The hospital stay is three to four days, so this isn't a minor surgery. In all this time, Bob has never had any pain,just a slowly progressing limp which is starting to affect his ability to stay upright.

We'd like to say that we realize that life is too short, but in truth, we never realize it. It has always been about "someday". I realized the other morning that its highly likely in a couple years we will need to move from our two story home here and downsize to a ranch. And we may need to decide whether we need to keep our beloved place in Fort Myers that we don't get to enjoy.

So it's time. It's just been hard to walk away from a steady income from clients, to say either I work from home or I only work a few months a year. But realistically we need to call it now or never get to enjoy what we have while we are still healthy and able.

Surgery is scheduled a week from Friday.

I Got Nothin

Standing Alone

Lately it seems that I am the only one to be speaking the obvious at my most recent client. I'm again at an organization that is actually treating me like I'm an employee rather than a temp. There are benefits to that as well as some downside.

I don't believe in blowing smoke. If an executive asks my opinion, I give it. More often than not I have found that I am the only one in the room stating the obvious. The rest waits until they see which way the wind blows and then moves in that direction. I'll admit it's an uncomfortable position, but it is not one that I will abandon.

Since I've been with this client for close to a year, you would think by now they would have accepted that I am not a Yes Man. I find it interesting that the executire that made the decision to hire me on is the one most likely to challenge my position yet also the one most likely to absolutely agree with my assessment. It's as if he is challenging his own thoughts.

Which brings me to the point of this post.

For some inexplicable reason tonight I suddenly recalled one of the first times I remember being the only one in the room taking a position where the leader wanted one outcome and everyone just went along.

When I was 13 or so, one of the more popular girls decided she would invite several of us to her church. For the life of me I cannot remember who she was nor any of the other girls that were there. It seems that there were about seven of us.

After church they had some youth meeting in the basement where some youth leader was giving us all a lecture. I recall the guy was giving lectures on the evils of smoking. From the time I was around four and my Aunt Rita had decided to let me have a puff of her cigarette, I have never touched one again. And to this day, that is the only one I ever touched. If you want to teach your kids never to smoke, let them have a puff when they are 4 or 5 and I guarantee you they will never touch one again.

This church leader then wanted all of the girls in the room to pledge they would never touch a cigarette. I distinctly remember I was sitting among the "cool kids", those girls that barely spoke to me at all and the same girls that were well known for finding places to smoke at school.

I suppose the church youth leader thought exerting some peer pressure would get the thirty young girls in front of him to never smoke again.

I wasn't buying it.

I knew that I had no desire to ever smoke, I knew the cool girls next to me would be at it again as soon as they had another chance to prove they were cool and I knew what he was asking everyone in the room to pledge was nothing but a bunch of bull.

He asked all the girls in the room to raise their hands to pledge they would never smoke a cigarette.

Every hand in the room went up, except for one.

I felt awkward, but I also felt a mixture of defiance and honesty and power. With that one act of leaving my hand down when everyone around me was lying, I felt like I was making a decision about my life.

Not about smoking. I was fairly certain I would never touch a cigarette, they seemed as disgusting to me then as they do now.

I felt like I was making a decision that I would not follow the crowd. Whether it be jumping over the cliff or smoking because it was cool or raising your hand to lie in a church.

Not everyone appreciates it when you are the only one in the room saying the Emperor has no clothes.

That's okay with me. I will not be a Yes Man.

I Believe

That is the name of a Brooks and Dunn song that took me back 45 years to a man that significantly impacted my life. Before I started this blog thing, I hijacked my sister's blog and wrote the post below.

I Believe

It’s going to be rainy tomorrow. The date is in some unknown time in the early sixties. How did I know it would be rainy? Because the weather dog told me. The weather dog sat on the window sill in Ode and Katherine’s house and changed colors according to the weather. I remember looking at the weather dog one day when one of his “weather specks” came off in my hand. I carried it back to my house so I would always know what the weather would be. Katherine died when I was very young, but I still remember one thing about her. When I would go across the road to visit them, she would say, “Olen, go get her a candy bar.” I can still hear that voice to this day. They kept Mr. Goodbars in their refrigerator.

Ode was the “old man” across the street. I loved him. By the time I arrived on this earth both sets of my grandparents had way too many grandkids to care much about me. To be honest, I probably wasn’t the easiest little girl either. I remember being much too whiny and sensitive. And my grandparents lived over an hour away. Ode lived just across the road. I don’t remember Katherine dying, but I know she did and Ode married Romanza.

Also on the window sill was a small white church. I remember also loving that small church. I don’t really know why, except that it embodied everything Ode was. He was a good Christian man, the old fashion kind. As a very small child I loved going over to their house. As I remember it, there were only four or five rooms in the house. One of the bedrooms was actually a hallway into their kitchen.

What I remember most is that I would sit for what would seem like hours with Ode on the couch. He had old spiral hymn books and he would teach me the songs. Old-fashioned hymns that I had never heard in the Catholic church. “I’ve got a mansion, just over the hilltop, in that bright land where we never grow old. And someday yonder, we will never more wander. But walk on streets that are purest gold.” I loved Ode and I loved those old songs books.

Most of the songs that we sang together were from those old songs books. “As I was sinking deep in sin, far from the peaceful shore. Very deeply stained within. Sinking to rise no more. But the Master of the Sea heard my despairing cry. From the waters lifted me, now safe am I. Love lifted me. Love lifted me, when nothing else would do, Love lifted Me.”

I can still hear Ode’s creaky voice singing those last few high versus. He taught me those and the old time song, “Oh do you remember a long time ago, two poor little babes whose names I don’t know. Were stolen away on a bright sunny day, and lost in the woods, I’ve heard people say.”

I don’t know why or how, but there was an evening at EUB church where Ode was a member when he and I got up to sing in front of everyone. I couldn’t have been six at the oldest. I still remember the two of us getting up and singing in front of that church. I was a little nervous, but I also felt safe with Ode leading the way. I was proud he wanted to have me sing with him.

In hindsight, I can just imagine what the people in EUB church thought. I mean, really how cute to have an old man and a six-year-old singing old songs that he taught her? I would give anything for video cameras back then so I could have that memory forever. I suppose the memory I have inside my heart is better than any video could have been anyway.

When I was a teenager, they took Ode away to a nursing home. I probably hadn’t visited for years and I felt bad. My mother would go to see him and tell me how “out of his head” he was. I could not force myself to go (today, I would know better). I believe he was in the nursing home for a few years and I never visited him, I justified it by saying he wouldn’t want me to see him like that. I believe he died when I was 17 or 18. I was all full of myself and thought that in my mind he had already been gone for years, so I also didn’t attend the service either. I'm not proud of that. He and Romanza really didn’t have a lot. They had lived a simple life in that tiny house. But when he died, it seemed that relatives came out of the woodwork wanting the simple things they had in the house. I remember feeling so upset that these people who hadn’t bothered with either of them for so long were now raiding their house while Romanza was still alive, and just grabbing what little they had.

I think about those song books and the white church and weather dog. I would have given anything to have had them. They meant something to me. Ode and the song books formed a significant part of my life, my faith. I knew those small items were not worth anything and probably ended up in the trash. It’s the “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure” truth. The songbooks were my treasure. They were something I shared with a man who was significant in my young life. His grandkids lived just next door, but they were busy being kids and didn’t realize how special it was to have your grandparents right next door.

I miss you Ode. Thank you for teaching me a quiet faith—one that doesn’t require looking down at people “lesser” than you. Thank you for showing me that while some families are created through blood, other families are created through the heart. I’m sorry for not visiting you in the nursing home or attending the service. I was young and selfish and I regret not getting to give you a proper goodbye. Thank you for giving me some of the most pleasant memories of my childhood and for politely sharing your amazing faith with me. What I wouldn’t give now to be able to tell you what an impact you made on my life. You will always be the grandpa made from my heart. I loved you so much.

"If there was ever anybody desevred a ticket to the other side It'd be that sweet old man who looked me in the eye, said

'I raise my hands, bow my head I'm finding more and more truth in the words written in red They tell me that there's more to life than just what i can see.

Oh, I Believe'.

I can't quote the book The chapter or the verse You can't tell me it all ends In a slow ride in a hearse You know I'm more and more convinced The longer that i live Yeah, this can't be No, this can't be No, this can't be all there is."

Damn Right, "Shoot him again"

Beware if you are a woman protecting her kids tonight in New York. Nanny Bloomberg will now take away your ability to protect your children.

Oh.... And the idiot legislature in New York were in such a hurry to pass their idiotic legislation that will not stop criminals FORGOT to exclude the police officers and military from their weapons ban.

So tonight every police office in NY is a criminal and every criminal now has the ability to outgun the police.

Remind me not to visit there anytime soon.

Happy Birthday Dad.

As we drove past my old apartment tonight I realized that it was twenty years ago tonight that we had, not our last Christmas birthday with you, but certainly the last Christmas where we still believed that our Christmases couldn't possible ever change. Where Christmas was filled with not hurt, but love.

I looked at your youngest son tonight, sitting in the kitchen with the other guys and I could have sworn it was you. The only thing missing was a cigarette and the leg cocked up in the kitchen chair, oh and hair of course. ;) It looked so much like the old days where the fathers just stayed away from the madhouse of the festivities until forced to become part of the celebration because someone had a gift for them.

I remembered when you would finally move from the kitchen into the living room to watch all the kids open their presents. I remember how hard it was to find something to give you that would need for your Christmas birthday and it always seemed to be only socks. I know the actual present didn't really matter that much anyway, but I always wanted to find you something better.

Although it was absolute chaos tonight, you would have loved it.

You would have loved seeing what fine adults your grandchildren are now. You would be so very proud of them. You would have loved that your and mom's influence didn't just extend to your children remaining closer than any family I know, you would have smiled seeng how the next generation is as dedicated as we are to remain committed to each other, no matter what.

You would have delighted in seeing your oldest great grandson now quickly becoming an adult who is one of the kindest guys I've known. You would have spoiled those next two great granddaughters who were dropped into our family, not from the stork, but from a gift from God and the State if Indiana.

You would have loved watching your youngest great granddaughter twirling in her new dress singing a beautiful Christmas song. And I know without a doubt that you would have been holding your youngest great grandson and loving that toddler stage. And you would have had tears in your eyes from laughter when this 18 mo old picked up an empty(thank goodness) beer bottle sitting on the coffee table and trying to swig it like he was a pro. You would have loved that our family continues to expand and yet never grow farther apart. Whether that expansion is through marriage and children, children though adoption or through bringing them into our family though new relationships.

I believe you would be proud that although it seemed impossible at times, we did manage to continue our family in your absence. And really shouldn't that be every parent's goal? To know that you raised your kids to be responsible strong adults who have against all odds raised their kids the same and who are now training their own children the same way.

But I hope it gives you peace that although there will always be an empty chair at Christmas, the room is filled with life, love and laughter.

But I wish you were here to enjoy all these wonderful new additions to your family and that they could have experienced a doting great grandpa.

But we still miss you.

I don't know of they celebrate birthdays up there in heaven, but that will not stop me from wish you a happy birthday anyway. I love you Dad. "Always Will". "Always will".

My Favorite

"This child that you delivered, will soon deliver you."

And please enjoy my friend's Z's version her voice is so beautiful.

Merry Christmas Friends. I hope peace for each of you.

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Random Acts of IPhone

I got nothin' to say, but they say an Iphone is worth a thousand words. That IS the saying, isn't it?

I could write a post every fifteen minutes if you would get inside my head all day long because I often think, "I could post something on this." And then I never get around to it. I snap a pic and have a great idea in my head but sitting down and typing it out is like herding hummingbirds.

So make of this what you will. Caption them, enjoy them, ignore them, it's up to you.

Anyone want to try to guess why this shadow is important?

Our yard frog after a storm.

I now have an orchid fetish.

Baby fish face

Don't ask me.

Ginny's homemade spaghetti recipe.  She isn't my aunt legally, but she sure is in my heart.

Yeah, even the Dish Guide has this right.

Saw this on the interstate one morning. Bigger it up to see why i did.  

Interesting Cha Cha answer.  One that I happen to agree with.

Note to self:  Don't try to catch your favorite Pampered Chef knife when its' falling.

Agriturismo in Volterra, Italy.  - Returning May 2013.

Manarola, Italy.  Returning to the top of the cliff again!