Good week/bad week

It is Thanksgiving week. How it got to be late November already, I have no idea. I really love the holidays, so I do enjoy Thanksgiving week. Really, it is a short week. Wednesday is the day before, with preparing for the next day. Thanksgiving day is nice, and that night I start getting out my Christmas stuff. Up until last year, the day after was not only a crazy work day, but the start of a month of crazy days to come. And six day work weeks. Yuck. Last year I wasn't working, but I did not partake in Black Friday shopping. This year I may do a little. Some how, Chet got this weekend, and Monday off. Saturday night we hope to go to our Zoolights with Sophie. We have never done that before. My sister will be here from Wednesday until Monday, and I am really looking forward to that.

The bad part? Thanksgiving of 1986. That was my first year working, and the day before Thanksgiving was very rainy. In the morning I took my sister Cathy to work on my way to school. I was at a community college, and she was home on break from a state college. That night I got called into work. There wasn't enough gas in the car, so I had to stop in the pouring rain at my dads office to get gas. I don't remember if he gave me money, or if I filled up there, because they had their own pumps for their installers trucks. I just remember driving the family station wagon in the pouring rain. That night I was in bed when my sisters Cathy and Gina got home from a movie. My sister Cathy peeked her head into my room and asked if I wanted to go to a family brunch in the morning at her work. I said maybe, I think. Then she went back out with her boyfriend. Hours later I woke up to hear my mom on the phone. I got up, and my mom was going to Cathy's room because her boyfriends sister called and asked if Cathy was home. She wasn't. My parents thought she was asleep in bed. My mom had misunderstood. Cathy and her boyfriend had been in a car accident. John was at one hospital, and they had taken Cathy to another one, just about a mile down the hill from our house. MY mom called the hospital and was told she was in surgery, and nothing else. Then two policemen showed up at the door. as it turned out, the accident was four blocks down the street. Straight down our street. MY parents headed to the hospital and insisted we stay. I will never know why I didn't go. There was another car in the driveway. But they had said to stay. So I was there with my two other sisters, ages 17 and 13. We were praying the whole time. I was sure she would be fine. I mean, it was Thanksgiving, about 3 in the morning, maybe. Certainly God wouldn't let anything bad happen, on Thanksgiving no less. Then my parents came back. And, our parish priest. Not a good sign. Cathy had died. They operated on her, but could not save her. Cathy was ten months and two days younger than me. She was always in my life. Needless to say, life was never the same again.

Cathy died on Thanksgiving, November 27th, 1986. So, really there are two anniversaries of her death. Thanksgiving, and the 27th. Last year Thanksgiving fell on the 27th, but this year the 27th is Friday. Thanksgiving is a little weird in my family. For years it was just Chet, I and my parents. Two years ago Sophie joined us. This year one of my sisters will be here for the first time in 10 years. Four years after Cathy died, my Grandma died on Thanksgiving. And 20 years after she died, Sophie was conceived on Thanksgiving. TMI maybe, but noteworthy. It is just a strange day. Also this year, not only is the 27th the 23rd anniversary of Cathy's death, but the one month anniversary of our dog Simon's death. Cathy was an old soul from day one. And so was Simon. I am sure they have found each other in Heaven.

Simon's home

In a box. It is a very nice box, with his name embossed on the outside. Chet went to pick up his ashes on Friday. There was no way I could go. I can't even stand to drive by the vet, which is on the main road through town. Right now the box is on the top of the shelf in our living room. Normally that room isn't used very much, and everything is in it's place. But I started going through the hundreds of pictures and cards in the drawer last week, and they are all over the place. Chet wanted to put the box on the mantle, but it is not very wide, so I was afraid it would fall down. So it is in it's bag, on the top of the shelf, between two vases. We are planning on spreading his ashes at his favorite doggy park in the spring. We used to go there all the time when we lived nearby. We still took the dogs there up until my parents moved out of the area three years ago. Simon loved to swim there, and we used to go to pug parties there. Simon didn't really play well with others though. He had major Daddyitis his whole life, he loved mommy, grandma, grandpa, and his aunties. He loved Toby, but not until after he took a permanent bite out of his ear the first day they met. He loved Sophie too, even though he wanted nothing to do with mommy for two days after we brought Sophie home. But he would lay outside of her bedroom door during her naps, and he liked to come with me in the mornings to get her up. And Sophie loved him. I think she gets that he is not coming back, but I am not positive. We have been blowing kisses to him up in heaven. I'm surprised we don't hear him barking down here. Sometimes, I would swear I do:-)

I think I could write whatever I want...

Since I don't seem to have any readers. Hello, is anyone out there? I know I am the worst blogger EVER. A. I don't have a lot of time. There are a lot of other things I can do online intermittently, like Facebook, even email. But the only time I have to blog is after 8pm, and I am usually exhausted. B. I have so many things running around in my head, it is hard to focus on just one. C. No one is reading anyway. I know that doesn't really matter, but I do find that motivating.

Fat. I started Weight Watchers on 10/20. It had gotten to the point that it was between that and surgery, and I really don't want surgery. Plus, Chet is very against it. I know I can lose on my own, but I need something structured like this. I am doing it online, which I love. It involves counting and budgeting, two of my strengths. It does not require me to be weighed in public and listen to others tell me what I should do. Two of my least favorite things. I know meetings help a lot of people, but I know my quirky self, and this is the way to go. I will probably attend one meeting to check it out. Week one, I lost 7 pounds, and week two, I lost 6. Woo hoo! Better than I imagined. I know the big number from week two had to do with losing Simon. I am really hoping for at least a three pound loss this week, but I am not real hopeful. I have been working out more, and I have these big calf muscles that lay dormant, and with a little bit of work they pop out. That's what years of soccer and then working on my feet have given me. Those are the only muscles I have, trust me.

Simon. We are missing him so much, of course. I have stayed home this week, to decompress and because I haven't felt too well. It has been nice, and allowed me to work on some projects. One is my "photo/card" drawer. Right now I have piles of pictures and cards sitting on my coffee table. There is a pug pile of course, which sadly is way higher than the Sophie pile, or any other for that matter. Mainly because for most of our pug parent years we had a non digital camera, and actually had pictures printed. Most of the Sophie pics are on the computer. SO Sophie and I have been looking at lots of Simon picss, many with Toby too. Sophie and Toby still think he is coming back. It's so sad. We love you pookie bear!!

Job. Haven't even looked for a couple weeks. I can only handle so many changes at once, and going back to work will be a huge one. Dealing with WW and the loss of Simon are enough right now. Plus, I have so many great holiday celebrating ideas floating in my head:). Of course, I will start freaking while spending money on Christmas. I cannot turn off my inner worrywart.

Sex. Ha ha, just checking to see if anyone is reading. Scared you, didn't I?

The Book of Simon-an excerpt.

Chet and I had to put down our 12 year old pug Simon yesterday. That was a decision I never thought I would make. Chet and my parents had been telling me for awhile that we needed to, but I wanted him to live his nature life. He has been in pain for quite awhile, with less and less use of his hind legs. They would just collapse under him. He could barely lower himself to sit down. The vet thought it was an injury that would heal, but it never did, it got worse. She put him on pain medicine last December, which we were supposed to ween him off of after a couple months. We never did, because without he couldn't move. With it, he moved slowly. The pain got worse and worse. He lost control of his bowels, and recently his bladder. He was miserable. There were many nights I didn't think he would make it through the night. He was having trouble breathing, and would get very stiff. This past weekend, and Monday, he was in bad shape. So I made an appointment, not sure what the vet would say. She was supportive of whichever decision we made. His spine looked much worse than the last time she saw him. She said his pelvis had fused together, which was why he now stood with his legs spread apart, I imagine. Just in case we did put him down yesterday, I took pictures of him and Sophie before we left. I tried to get Toby in there too, but he was uncooperative as usual. Chet met me there. At that point, the doctor had inserted the catheter and brought Simon back to me wrapped in a blanket. He gave me kisses on the nose, which he hasn't done in a long time. I gave him lots of kisses and mommy loves you's. Chet held him, and I left. I didn't want to be there when the drug was administered. I went home and Chet wasn't far behind. Due to circumstance, Sophie was at home with my mom, and one of my friends and her daughter. That worked out well, because she didn't really notice we came home without Simon.

Ballooon Boy

I have probably mentioned that I am a huge reality T.V. junkie. So, on Thursday I dropped my parents off at the airport for their trip to Denver to see my sisters. On the way home, I heard about this runaway balloon on the radio. They said it was 40 miles north of the Denver airport, and they were clearing airspace. So I called my mom to let her know. Their flight hadn't taken off yet. When I got home, I turned on the T.V., and Chet and I were both praying for that little boy. CNN mentioned that the dad was a storm chaser, and I said OMG, I wonder if it is that guy from Wife Swap. Then my sister called and said the local news had released the name and I asked what it was. When she said Falcon Heene, I was like shit, that is the family from Wife Swap! We were so happy when they found the kid. I watched the interview on Larry King Live. I was pretty surprised they were composed enough to do and interview. If I had spent five hours thinking my child might be dead, there is no way I would be calm enough to do a interview hours later, let alone in front of cameras. Even when the kid said "you guys said we did this for a show", I just figured he was confused. By Friday, everyone thought it was a hoax, and I thought wow, everyone is so cynical. I just could not imagine parents doing such a thing. Even though I had seen these guys on Wife Swap and the dad was a real jerk. At that point, I was just happy that we hadn't seen or heard from Jon and Kate in a couple days! So now, it has come out that it was a hoax. Of course people are saying take their kids, throw them in jail. Certainly, there should be major consequences. And I am not convinced that the guy isn't abusive to the wife, if not physically, verbally. There needs to be an investigation by Child Protective Services. As for the hoax, fine them, give them community service, and probation. But jail? Really? I think we need the room for all of the child molesters, abusers, and murderers. Yes, it is totally unimaginable what they did, and all that time spent looking for the boy could have been spent fighting crime. I just don't know if jail is the answer. And of course, this wouldn't be such a huge story if it wasn't for the stupid media. I will give Richard Heene that. He has them figured out to a tee.

Yikes, an ear infection

I really thought Sophie was going to go through life with no ear infection. Pretty naive considering all the ear/throat/sinus infections I have had in my life. If I was born in the 90's and not the 60's I would have my tonsils out, tubes in my ears and a regular allergy prescription. Add in the fact that I grew up going to Group Health, which my parents pay out of pocket for now. A typical trip to the doctor went like this: What's wrong? What do you think you have? What medicine would you like? That was after an hour wait in the waiting room, and another half hour in the exam room. Nothing I say can convince my parents they would be better off medically and financially if they switched insurance. Sophie had a runny nose for awhile, but suddenly Friday afternoon she was putting her finger in her ear and saying owie. Then she started crying and wanted to be held. I called the doctor and they said they could get her in at 4:45. Well it was 4:30 and we are a good 15 minutes away, so I sent Chet since he had just walked in and could just jump back in the car while I threw shoes on Sophie. Plus he is a faster driver. So at least Sophie got an antibiotic, my old friend amoxicillen. When they come home I start firing off the questions. What medicine? I don't know. Did you tell them you are allergic to Penicillen? No, why would I do that? Well, because Sophie could have inherited the allergy. But you aren't allergic. Yeah, but she has your DNA too. Did she get the flu shot while she was there? No. Did you ask about it? No. Did you ask about Swine flu? No. Did they say anything other then she has a middle ear infection? No. When I called him about an hour after they left, the doctor had just come in. So I could have gone myself and been late since they waited an hour anyway. Usually we never wait there, but this was last minute. Lesson learned.

Beautiful fall day!

It was a beautiful fall day today. Chet worked all day, so it was just me and Sophie. I started putting up my Halloween decorations a few days ago, even though my Mother said I must wait until October first. So far no Decor police have knocked on my door. WE went to the fair on Thursday, and we drove past a house that was all decorated. That was all the permission I needed! As usual, I am missing several decorations, that I know of, which means there are also a few I forgot about. I'm sure they are buried in my Christmas closet. If I don't find them now, I will find them the day after Thanksgiving, when I get my Christmas decor out. Sophie was so excited when we were putting out the things inside on Friday. Then Chet put up the pumpkin lights along the path when he got home. Today Sophie and I went out and hung the Ghost flag, a witch on the garage, and a witch in a tree in the backyard. This year I am going to attempt to make ghosts to hang in one or more tree out front. When we were done getting the witch in the tree, we hung out in the backyard. Thanks to Grandma, Sophie likes to dig up dirt, usually bark, and throw it. Our backyard is filling up quick since my Mom keeps bringing stuff over that she picks up at garage sales. Last week she brought Sophie a cute little plastic lawn chair. After a while, I told Sophie we were going on the deck. She went ans got the lawn chair and was carrying it across the yard to the deck. I asked if she wanted help, and she said I can do it. Plain as day. That is the longest sentence she has ever said. So funny. Chet worked later than he thought, and now he has to work tomorrow when he was supposed to be off. So, he picked up McDonalds for dinner. Nice and easy. All together, it was a great day:)