i THOUGHT it was going to be two more days, but it's basically ready now. www.nothingbutlove.net. that's my new home and a birthday present! i'll be working (that means matt will be working) on linking to my blogspot archives and tweaking other stuff for the next couple of days.
last night, after jax came home at 11:30, conked out. i mean conked out. we keep our bedroom door closed to keep beagle scout in the room. when we closed the door to sleep, i asked bill if sheba was on the floor where i couldn’t see her. he said no, that she was probably in jax’s room.
just before 3 a.m., the phone rang. if you’re like me, when the phone rings in the middle of the night, you are instantly jolted awake. scared. bill picks up the phone:
bill: hello?
caller: mr. lang?
bill: yes, who’s this>
caller: this is the avon lake police department, mr. lang
oh fuck. you know how it is. a million thoughts – all of them bad – run through your head in the small part of a second before you hear the rest of the words.
caller: do you have a dog?
bill: yes?
caller: the officers are at your door right now with your dog.
bill: i’ll be right down.
bill runs down the steps, opens the door. two officers are standing at the door as the most excited and grateful dog you’ve ever seen rushes into the house to bill.
officer: we got a call that she’s been going crazy outside, not able to get in. a neighbor called us.
evidently, jackson let her out when he came home. we have an electronic dog fence, so she doesn’t leave the yard. we are sick. i am torturing myself with the thought of this wonderful (i mean this is the best dog i’ve ever known) dog, frantic at not being able to get in. it was important enough for her to be with us that she could not just lay down and go to sleep.
after about ten minutes of lots of dog kisses and jumping, she jumped on the bed and passed out. she was exhausted. she’s just fine today. i’m sure she’s not feeling as bad as i am, remembering another summer evening ...
matty was just about a year. bill and i put him to bed, opened our lawn chairs on the patio of our townhouse condo we lived in, brought a little portable tv outside, and settled in to watch the ball game, maybe 10 feet below his bedroom window. but it was hot as hell, and the airconditioning was on in the house, so all doors and windows were closed. so bill or i’d get up every once in a while and step inside the door to listen in case he woke up and needed something. never heard a thing. this was from about 7 p.m. to maybe 9 when we went in. i walked upstairs right away to check him. he was sleeping in the crib, but he was beet red, and his white-blonde hair was plastered with sweat to his little head. my first thought was that he had a terrible fever and reached in to touch his head. i said, “matt?” he opened his eyes immediate, looked at me, and said, “mom, you’re home?” he broke into baby boy sobs, telling me that he woke up, called for us, we didn’t answer. so he climbed out of the crib! searched the house for us! he looked under beds! in closets! can you picture this?
i can’t think about it without crying. i had heard about – even was acquainted with – parents who’d LEAVE the house after putting their kids to bed. we may as well have done that. i’ll NEVER forgive myself for that.
yesterday evening, bill and i went to starbucks. imagine our shock and horror at finding a truck with no handicapped sticker parked in the ONE AND ONLY handicapped parking space! normally, i wait in the car, and bill goes in; in that case we don’t use the handicapped space. duh! but yesterday, i was actually going into starbucks to use the restroom while bill attended to the mochas. so bill’s pissed, i’m pissed, but jen (one of the starbucks “partners”) is WHITE HOT FURIOUS. yay! she does not even let us finish bitching before she’s out the door hot on the trail of the perp. she obviously knows who it is and where to find him. he’s so sorry to jen – she seriously kicks his ass – he was just making a quick delivery to the travel agency next door. he leaves – with his tail between his legs. the travel-agency lady comes over – she’s sorry, too. bill and jen BOTH kick HER ass. all the while, my gimpy ass is in the bathroom. dammit!
so this morning, i pull into my parking lot and head for the handicapped parking spaces (four of them, 2x2, with open access from each end). two women are taking up two of the spaces. not handicapped. just doing a quick swap of some boxes or something in a convenient “unloading” area. so i make the once around in the lot to head into one of the other two spots in front of them (if you’re not following this, don’t worry. not important). there’s a car parked in the traffic lane making easy access to the spots ALMOST impossible. i say almost because i actually got in to one of them. but i get out of my little white who-/ gimp-mobile beetle swearing and pissed. I WANT TO KICK SOME ASS! but the two ladies leave immediately.
denied. again. fair warning – don’t park in a handicapped spot today ANYWHERE in ohio. k?
**********
oh. and here’s a picture of something that tickled me this morning.
it’s a shot of my nightstand. if you’re bored, i understand. it just seemed like it defined my life this morning to me. left to right:
my fan – i’m gonna be 49 next week – this is essential nightstand accoutrements for a 49-year-old woman
the little “vessel” in which i keep my nail file, coins, candle lighter, crap, and the sissy-ribboned nail clippers (thusly be-ribboned so that the BOYS in my house will return to the rightful owner)
the antique candle holder matty bought for me while in london is hiding behind the “vessel.” i have never put a candle in it. why? i don’t know.
a lamp – what? you couldn’t tell that was a lamp???
a box of kleenex – duh
in front of the box of kleenex is what is left of the candle i lit last night. smelled good, but what a freaking mess i have to clean up when i get home!
in front of the candle is the pin bill bought me for our anniversary last month.
behind the kleenex are the hospital pictures of our boys, matt and jax.
the little red bag contains a new stamp to add to my “collection.” i TOLD you – i “collect” stamps – i’m not a stamper!
the 6,784 oz coke bill bought for me saturday. when he brought it out of the gas station to me, i asked him what he was thinking. he said, “you LIKE flat pop! so it’ll last you a week!” it will be a week tomorrow. looks like it will last two weeks to me.
WHAT’S ON YOUR NIGHTSTAND? right now. don’t clean it up til you tell.
so. we (bill and i) meet the jackal for lunch at tony roma's. he heads home. we head out for more errands. you have to be sitting down for this next part, i'm afraid. one of the errands is to head to a local piercing kiosk for a piercing on the top cartilage of one of my ears. ok, i know it's weird. no comments about it, please. there is no accounting for people's different tastes. let's just leave it at that. anyway. we get to the mall where my usual choice for ear piercings has ALWAYS been located (it's not like i have 12 holes in each ear -- i have two in one, and one in the other; but the boys, matt, jax, and mark, have had ear piercings done at this place, so i've been there some). it's CLOSED! dammit. so i ask the girl at the dakota watch kiosk who has teeth that make men think of ... umm. never mind. my children read this. so i ask her where to go for a piercing. she says "claire's." i say, "oh, yeah." i vaguely remember this store. but what i had forgotten about this store is that each time i enter this place, i feel like an atomic particulate tractor beam searches for my brain -- and searches every other patron that dares enter, most of whom remind me of the jody foster character in taxi driver . all 13 year-old, bare-midriffed mini women (i wanted to use another word there, but you know me and propriety. we're like this. picture me holding up my index and middle finger together). anyway, the tractor beam. it starts sucking out iq points faster than i can recognize who's in charge to direct my inquiry. oh. it's not like EVERYBODY in the store doesn't turn and look at you and wonder wtf YOU are doing there. i'd guess it's probably the fact that i'm 48 year's old. that or the obvious intelligence in my eyes.
so all these young women are standing, staring at me; and i'm trying to find the one with some kind of name tag to ask a question. bill's standing behind me, shaking. so i decide that the best course of action is to get the hell out. quick. before we can't think anymore. we run.
i pretend we didn't run out of fear. don't wanna make bill feel bad. i say, "it's too crowded in there. let's go to the one closer to home." he says, "good idea."
we finish up the rest of our errands and head to the local claire's (it's right next door to the bath and body works store bill and i frequent at least twice a month). a quick glance inside (as we pretend to be heading to b&bw) reveals that this store is much less crowded. instead of the 150 or so (ok maybe not) 13 year-old patrons and store clerks, there appears to be only 3 women (you know what i'm saying) in the entire store. bill and i quickly ascertain that we could probably take them if necessary. we walk in. quick. before more patrons arrive. this time only three pairs of eyes stare -- i swear they can tell that we are near death (nearer than they are anyway), and they are ready to pounce on our rotting flesh once we drop. that HAS to be what they want. because no one says, "can i help you?" there are two women near the cash register, and the other in my peripheral vision to the right. i know because i have made a note to keep them all in my sight at all times. once again, bill's behind me. i don't think he's shaking yet, but i can smell the fear just starting to grow.
i decide to take charge. of the two at the register, one is wearing what appears to be a name tag. the other with her, none. they both continue staring. no name tag looks away. and then back. and then away. and then back. i will not let them see my fear. so i say, "what? are we too old to come in here?" the one with no name tag says, "what?" so i repeat my polite inquiry. (i swear to god it was polite!). she says, "oh no, it's fine." the name-tag says, "what?" i repeat my question / joke to her. she responds, "what?" wtf? i repeat and add, "it was a joke." she says, "oh." so i ask her, do you do piercings here?" (i'm holding the top of my ear between my thumb and forefinger) she says, "yes, but i am required to tell you that if you get it done here, you'll most likely get a bump where the piercing is." at this point she says something to no name tag that makes it clear to my quickly-shrinking brain that no name tag works here, too. so i say to her, "oh, you work here, too? you get paid to be rude to customers?" clearly, i have taken the upper hand, because nobody knows what to say. i always forget that rule about pretending not to notice stuff. freaks people out.
i decide that my work here is done. they didn't wanna do it, and i'm not letting them touch me. i ask her where i should get it done, and she tells me a piercing parlor. i swear to god i think to myself "a piercing parlor? me? cool. more blogging material!"
we walk out. bill tells me i overreacted. pfffft. i got him out just barely in time. and he doesn't appreciate it.
we're back. billy's blogging (duh!), but so am i (doh!). the ball game's on. we went to starbuck's (twice!), the stamp / stationery store (bill needed envelopes for his 3x5 levenger's note cards, but we wound up spending $120!), the craft store (i needed a new clasp for the pin bill bought me for our anniversary, otw it was just a matter of time before i lost it -- he STILL has not forgiven me for losing his h.s. ring when we were teenagers. when we were teenagers, we wore each other's class rings. we called it going steady. archaic, i know. the girls wrapped the guy's rings with angora yarn to size the ring. ask your mother!), the record store, marc's (if you don't have marc's stores, i'm sorry -- they are the coolest stores on earth). a quick lunch, blogging, and the ball game, and then we're off to the golf course.
while we were in the stamp store, matty called to ask me for a groom and his mom song for the wedding. he needed it asap as mel's faxing the list this afternoon. quick calls to friends dee ann and tanas (marlene was not home), and sister pj produced the following:
dee ann: the beatles' "in my life," louis armstrong's "wonderful world"
tanas: bette midler's "wind beneath my wings," ?'s "the bitch is back" -- thanks tanas!
pj: some kind of celine dion pap -- wtf? helloooo???
i had been thinking "wonderful world" before dee ann called me back, so i told matt "wonderful world" or "in my life."
while we were in the record store i saw jane oliver's "he's so fine." made me cry cuz i used to rock him to sleep singing that. but, alas, too fast for gimpy mom to slow dance to.
what would you have told him? come on -- make me feel bad. do your worst.
i'll try to fix the site when i can. find something else to do. i'm heading out to starbucks, and other fun saturday stuff with billy. sucks to be you.
below are a couple quick pictures from the "not-a-shower" today. really just a couple close friends over for lunch (they just happened to bring presents for mat and mel). i'm exhausted. fried way too much chicken, made (kt and mark decorated it!) the biggest freakin' cake ever. well, probably not ever. but way, way too much of everything. we'll be eating "not-a-shower" food for a while. i could never do these things without bill and the boys. they worked their asses off! and kt. i wanna adopt her. she is the bomb! i'm not kidding. she had eye surgery just 10 days ago and was an incredible help. pj and michael came over early in the day to help, too. nobody takes over like pj -- just tell her what you need, give her ingredients, and she's off! i always bite off way more than i can chew with these things, and everybody else pays the price.
the weather was pretty hot here today -- not unbearably hot -- and there was relief inside with the air-conditioning. the freakin' air went out yesterday afternoon! we spent a hot night (ok, ok. i was the only one who complained) and this morning i called the a/c company i always use. they told me no service unless i had a service contract or was elderly. i'm not THAT old so i asked how i get on a contract. call back monday morning! so we called the closest a/c company we found on line and left a message. i was only gonna call ONE company. i figured if they called me back, great; if not, we'd have to suffer through it -- we didn't have the time to waste trying to get someone here. in 10 minutes, the guy called. he was here within an hour and a half, fixed it in 15 minutes, and only charged $130! we were thrilled! weekend service, quick, friendly, efficient, and it didn't cost bill's left nut. yay! we were sweating it -- figuratively and literally -- we knew the problem was with the 17-year-old compressor. no problem. couple of big fuses. phew.
so now we're relaxing. matt, mel, mark, and kt playing scrabble, bill blogging (duh!), jax out with buddies, and i'm gonna post these pics and try to talk bill into getting off-line and heading up to a more relaxing place. mark, kt, and mel are leaving early in the morning. matt will be home (won't be calling it home for long -- sniff) until wednesday. i'm gonna try to take off some time until he heads back.
bill's site is not working. he's not handling it well, so i'm going to allow him to post on this "horror show called a blog." until he can post on his own site. and i'm busy working on the "shower" that we're hosting tomorrow. after tomorrow, i'm sure i'll have time and material to post. betrothed pictures, guests, food, and dogs. stay tuned.
Stacey, the person who runs this horror show called a blog, and I have this kid who is a recovering drug addict, who stole a lot of money from us and betrayed our trust, and caused some undue stress in the house. He went through intensive out-patient treatment, which helped as much as France helped the U.S. in Iraq, and then spent some time out west in Utah, near Loa, where the nearest Wal-Mart is like 120 miles away, shitting in holes he dug and wiping his ass with juniper bark while evaluating his condition and what he wanted out of life. I'm thinking more people ought to do that -- not just addicts like Jack -- instead of seeing shrinks who charge $120 an hour to say, "Uh-huh, what do you think?" I would have benefitted from the program, I think, instead of being hopped up on legal drugs -- mother-fucking doctors.
Enough of that -- I'm being her guest, and a bad guest at that, what with all the colorful, fucking metaphors.
I am reminded of the stuff above because I was late to court today and one of the guys I had to deal with was a dumbass kid.
The judge assigned me the case. I met the kid today -- and when I say kid, I mean he's 18, in high school, and looks like he's 12. He is charged with underage consumption of alcohol, since the drinking age is 21.
He was late for school one day. He stayed over a friend's house and came to school with the friend, also 18. They had been up until 3, drinking beers. My client measured .19 on a breath test. He also had a 20-ounce can of Pabst in his backpack. Well, understand this -- this is all allegedly. Like it didn't happen in legal talk. You know how it is. You can't assume that any of this is true. No. No way. None of it is true. Yet.
So, I hypothetically ask him if he allegedly thinks that he has an imaginary problem with alcohol or drugs. Allegedly.
And he allegedly said to his alleged lawyer, "I don't know. Not really."
See, he said "not really," meaning what? That it was imaginary?
I said, hypothetically, that if he allegedly didn't know, then allegedly he does have an alleged substance abuse problem and he should go to the alleged drug abuse treatment center and get an alleged substance abuse assessment.
He is allegedly going to do that.
And get some alleged help for his "not really" problem.
beagle scout had her first puppy preschool class saturday, and the socializing with the other puppies has brought some unexpected results. it seems she learned from somepuppy what the fuck dew claws are. seems they are the PERFECT weapon to use on me when i'm trying to stop the puppy biting. we (the humans) were taught to hold the puppy's mouth closed from behind with the palm of our hands underneath the puppy face, fingers wrapped up and over the snout. gently, but firmly. saying no calmly until the puppy stops fighting and relaxes, trusting you and accepting your authority. scout just doesn't get it. i properly grab her (yes i do!), but she does not calm down. oh, i don't know. maybe i'm just not patient enough, and maybe i need to be clawed for several HOURS before she yields to my authority.
last night, i received several deep and painful wounds. and this tiny puppy has sharp claws -- like a fucking cat! [cats scare the shit out of me for this exact reason. that and their emotional disconnect.] and she's making noises like a trapped raccoon! have you ever HEARD a trapped raccoon? oh my god. the sounds and the clawing.
i think we (bill, scout, and i) are being over educated. i've raised dogs before. all without puppy preschool. i don't need her learning this stuff from the other puppies. i may go back to the old method. firm tap -- not a smack -- on the snout, with a "NO!" worked before. damned yuppy puppies.
-------------
don't you love the line in the previews to that new movie (i can't remember the name -- sue me) where sally field says "never underestimate the power of a woman with a harvard law degree and a french manicure?" do you think to yourself -- as i do, "oh my god! that's stacey!" i've never heard a line that so PERFECTLY captured the essence of me, ever.
except for the harvard law degree thing. i don't have a harvard law degree. or any law degree. or even a college degree. but i DO have a couple years of engineering school under my belt, thank you very much. AND. my husband does have a law degree. not from harvard, though. and i PAID FOR IT!
and, except for the french manicure thing. BUT. i HAVE HAD french manicures. and i will probably have one again! in fact, i tried to make an appointment just yesterday! she was too busy to work me in this week, but i'll call her again next week, and then we'll see.
statement added 07/01/03: i decided to try this out this morning because my hits didn't seem to be going up, and i was worried something was wrong with my site meter. i came up #54! so i looked back at my site meter info. it was a netscape search. so i tried that. #54. curious. seems netscape is powered by google. BUT. if you search for "stacey amish groundhog problems," guess what comes up #1? that's right! me!
the hits are bound to increase cuz i just found out that i'm #10 in a google search for "amish, groundhogs, problems." if you have difficulty accessing the site because of the increased traffic, please e-mail me directly; and i'll have my network administrator work on it. and if i'm too busy to reply personally to your e-mail, please understand that the increased traffic and ensuing popularity has necessitated the hiring of a p-r firm, who, i assume, will answer all e-mails and telegrams and reply with a facsimile of my autograph on a photograph of a person who may or may not be me. stalkers, you know.
i’ve sent you to this guy’s site before. it’s definitely one of the best i’ve found. dan’s smart, funny, compassionate, sensitive, and very sexy. i say that openly here cuz he reminds me so much of billy (“will” to me). read him today. his story reminded me of a trip to the old cleveland municipal stadium i took with bill and one of my sisters. i feel like i may have blogged this before. deja vu.
game’s over. bill, sis, and i fighting the crowds and cars trying to escape the downtown area. bill’s carrying a blanket and a thermos. we’re in a long ant-like line of pedestrians making their way to the farthest stadium lot. a line of car traffic intersects our pedestrian line, the pedestrians yielding and crossing between cars as the cars inch forward. two young black kids (maybe 12 year’s old) in front of us make their way across in between cars. a really tall, completely shit-faced low- life, 20-something guy jams his car into park and jumps out of the car that the kids crossed in front of. [there’s that damned preposition again – i’m not changing it.] he starts yelling obscenities and threats to the two boys. a real big guy. he’s gonna be a tough guy with these two kids. low-life piece of trash.
i’m the first to react. i think (and this is a BAD, DUMB thing) that when i’m pissed, i fear nothing. the hulk in a 5’3” woman. this guy’s about 6’4”. i am right up (i would say in his face, but that wouldn’t be accurate) in his CHEST, (but i’m LOOKING at his face) screaming at him about what a biiiig man he is, what a fucking low-life he is. he picks up his arm slightly, balls his fist, and lightly (whatever) lets it fall into my nose. i am SHOCKED. and a little dazed. bill and joy don’t see the “punch” from their angle. the guy really didn’t move much. i stand aside and say to joy, “he punched me in the nose!” i still cannot believe that he would do this to me. see what i mean? i think i’m invulnerable! but she hears me and (as we all four of us crazy sisters are wont to do) goes crazy! tasmanian devil. bill grabs her sleeve, tells her to knock it off. tall guy then goes back after the boys, and bill (still holding onto all this stuff) grabs the guy’s arm and gracefully throws him on his back on the ground and tells him to get in his car and get out of here. the guy scrambles to his feet, starts yelling and challenging bill, but won’t come within 10 feet of him. bill says again to him to get out of here. and he does.
moral of the story: i always thought it was my mouth people feared. but it was just the big guy standing right behind me protectively.
I CAN PO-OST, I CAN PO-OST, NYAH, NYAH, NYAH, NYAH, NYAH
thanks, charlene, for the link. this is what my birthdate says about me:
Pleasant shape pfffft tasteful clothes sometimes modest demands depends tends to not forgive mistakes if you want to be forgiven, sure, but i have a loooong memory cheerful sometimes likes to lead but not to obey sometimes honest and faithful partner yes tends to a know-all-attitude and making decisions for others yes noble-minded yes generous i think so good sense of humor i think so practical depends
why do i do these? there should be an answer to that. talk amongst yourselves.
ALL THE NEWS THAT’S FIT TO LINE THE DOG CRATE WITH
i HATE ending that up there with a preposition, but i did it anyway. what do i look like -- a journalist?
i’m not going to talk about the facts of the case. for several reasons. 1) billy’s talked about what he feels it’s appropriate to share. 2) i don’t know all the facts, nor do i care to. the facts. hmmm. the reporter PRETENDED to care about the facts when she called billy (i was in the car when he took the call) because she had obtained a copy of the court transcript. i DO know what i heard billy tell the reporter, and it wasn’t what THE PLAIN DEALER reported that billy said. i CAN tell you that.
i’ve been saying this for a couple weeks now. i’m gonna say it again. you read the newspapers everyday (a habit i started when i was a 7th grader) because i THOUGHT it would make me an informed person. it’s a habit i’ve tried to “give” to jackson (i get to make him do whatever reading i want because i homeschool). pfffft. i learned a while ago (the last time billy’s name was in the paper) that i wasn’t being informed – the intent was to entertain.
so not only did she (the “reporter”) lie about what bill said, but she must not have bothered to read the court transcript – which said EXACTLY what he said.
so there it is out there, folks. complete bullshit. but it’s in print. and plenty of people believe it. i probably would, too, if i hadn’t learned not to. evidently, the state supreme court thinks it’s important enough to “investigate.” so now, bill has to write a letter explaining that he did NOT lie to the court, ask the judge to write a letter, and attach the transcript to PROVE he did not lie.
i guess only lawyers have to have ethics. snort all you want at that statement. it's MY story, and i'm talking about MY lawyer.
so i found some tylenol with codeine and took two last night at bedtime. slept like a log. so when i get up this morning, the pills are calling to me. take two on an empty stomach. it's a damn good thing billy needed my car today and drove me to work, because by the time we hit north olmsted, i'm a sleepy, buzzing mess. i'm slurring my words, can't keep my eyes open. THIS is not going to work, billy, take me home. i call my boss, tell her i'm in no shape to work, head home to sleep it off.
i'm on one couch with beagle scout, sheba's on the other couch, bill's in the family room. i am barely conscious. everytime i start to drift off to sleep, i make a tiny little sound in my throat. and wake myself up. some people would call that sweet, delicate little sigh of contentment a "snore," but some people would be wrong. duh. at one point, bill coughs in the family room, and i think the cabinet over the sink has fallen out of the ceiling. it is that loud. cretin.
finally i fall asleep (or pass out -- i'm not sure which) for several hours. i wake up not exactly refreshed, but the bubbling that i feel inside the top of my head has subsided a little -- a very tiny little -- bit. and the pain from my broken rib(s) has not eased ONE IOTA.
bill needs to drive to sandusky, i'll go with him. i have no idea how long he was inside city hall meeting with various people because i -- again -- pass out (fall asleep?). i wake up when bill knocks on the car window. my mouth is wide open. i'm drooling. a little less top-of-the-head bubbling. it's now over 8 hours since i took these pills. wtf?
i finally realize i'm feeling mostly normal 10 freaking hours after i took the pills. except for the ache in my ribs. i take three ibuprofen. magic.
i was in the office alone all day today, so bill came up to keep me company for a while. mark came up a little later, and we three had lunch together. before mark got there, bill and i were horsing around (good, clean, immature fun). i pulled his arms over my shoulders (he was behind me), bent over and hoisted his feet off the ground. "my turn!" he says. but i'm a good 10 inches shorter than him, so my arms won't go over his shoulders to the front unless he crouches. he stands up, my feet leave the ground at the same time a rib on my left side makes contact with his shoulder blade. too high. thwonkkkk i feel in my rib.
i think i have a broken rib. we should know better. we stoopid.
cuz this one's not working for me either. i'm looking for magic here, and i don't think i'm gonna find it. at least not in a quiz. thanks to veggiemama for this link.
i absolutely CANNOT believe that this picture of my puppy elicited only TWO comments! you can do better than that! talk to me people. i know i'm not the popular site like other people have, but come onnnnn. a puppy with glasses? how can you resist? the site's called "nothing but love." gimme some.
last night while bill and i were outside on the front steps letting the dogs take care of doggy business, we were talking about "things." it seems to me, i said to bill, that the past 9 years have been pretty tough. it's always so much easier to look at stuff when it's behind you. your emotional responses "in the moment" make it impossible to see clearly what's happened.
the day before my fortieth birthday (july 22, 1994), bill and i were told that i had m.s. the diagnosis came very quickly on the heels of my first symptoms. we (all of us) were eating at friday's on a sunday earlier in the month when i dipped my head to look out over my glasses at one of the boys (i think it was a way to look like i was saying something serious), and i saw two of everything. the double vision was only evident when i dipped my head. i said, "what the heck?" dipping my head up and down. none of us were alarmed (at least i wasn't), but i called our good friend and optometrist, dr. "cyborg" (as the boys always called him) to have him take a look. i knew that there were several temporary and non-serious conditions that could cause this, and knew dr. c. could figure it out.
he couldn't and made an appointment for me for the next thursday with an opthamologist friend of his. still, i wasn't worried. bill was going to be in trial that week in toledo, and i told him not to worry. i was so not worried i brought both the boys (8 and 12) with me to the appointment. i felt sure he'd diagnose some sort of temporary cranial nerve paralysis. end of story. but after a thorough examination, he told me i needed to have an mri and see a neurologist right away and made an appointment for me while i waited and talked to the boys as normal as possible in the waiting room. the mri was scheduled for the next day, and the neurologist instructed me to wait for the mri films and bring them to his office as soon as i got them. as soon as we got out to the car, i burst into tears. i was now scared. and because i was scared, i scared the boys, too. i think i paged bill, seemed like he called me back immediately. he talked to the judge on the case he was trying, and the judge called a recess in the trial until the following monday, and bill was on his way home.
friday, july 22, 1994. bill and i picked up a xanex prescription for me on the way to the mri as i hate enclosed spaces. i took one, waited to feel something. nothing (i thought). took another one. nothing (ithought). i wound up taking 4 (!) before we reached the hospital (good thing it wasn't a longer drive!). closed-bay mri's are not fun in general, but an mri of your head is something altogether different. your head is actually immobilized in a CAGE. i'm so glad i took 4 of the pills, i felt no anxiety before i fell into a sudden, deep sleep.
we finished up and waited for the films and then proceeded to the neurologist. the mri films showed a clear lesion in the brain stem. dr. d. examined me and detected weaknesses and weirdnesses i hadn't noticed. m.s. most likely. BUT -- and this was worse to us -- he couldn't be sure it wasn't a tumor because there was only one lesion. with m.s., there are usually more lesions visible. have another mri in two months, and see me afterwards. if it's a tumor, there's nothing we can do -- can't operate in the brain stem. shit. i'm voting m.s.
over the next year, i had three more mri's, a spinal tap, had very few full nights of sleep (i became very adept at nocturnal solitaire), became severely depressed, deteriorated physically in very subtle ways (things that STILL only bill and i can see), and continued (as best as i could) to run this little household. i had LOTS of support: bill and the boys, sisters, friends, doctors. people RARELY asked bill and the boys how THEY were doing. they probably would have felt guilty for having been asked, knowing them. a double whammy. prozak helped me tremendously. in the end, there was still only the ONE lesion which had not changed (thus, not a tumor), and because there were no more lesions, the doctors called it an ms-LIKE illness. however, because the lesion had not "resolved" or healed during that time, the damage i sustained was permanent.
so i'm different. i walk with a cane for balance, my left hand is stupid, and sticks out funny when i walk (i think for balance), the double vision must be corrected with a prism in the lens of my glasses, and i need to get PLENTY of rest. there are other little (or invisible) things. i "hit the wall," as i call it, just once in a while and head to bed pretty much right away when i get home from work. but this happens maybe a couple times a month. so really, this is no big deal. except that i AM different. and that might have been tougher for bill and the boys than it was for me. i still feel like ME, and that's 99% of me that i experience. i'm not experiencing me from outside myself. they SEE me. and i think it's been tough for them.
as i said, the slam of depression i experienced was taken care of pretty well by prozak and time. time it took getting used to who i am now. once in a while i'm caught off-guard trying to do something, handle something, step somewhere in the "old" way (the way i did for 40 years). and that's frustrating. but i'm great now.
then: matthew fought his own demons for a couple years with this. i won't speak for him on this. i don't think he'd appreciate it. he's great now.
then: jackson imploded. he (and bill and i) talks a lot about his own struggles. i have no doubt that THIS is where his fight began. he's great now.
the last 5 years or so have been EXTREMELY difficult for bill: me, his dad, his mom, fighting for the boys. the last couple of months have been interesting, to say the least. but he's great now.
through it ALL, we've all loved each other like crazy, fought like hell with and for each other and PERSEVERED.
so here's my message to my family: we're done, right? no more implosions? at least not BIG ones? kay? but know that i'm always going to be here for you guys as long as i'm alive, i'm fighting. i KNOW that life brings struggles, but it's getting past them and through them that matters. that's what family means to me. and that's what i'm gonna do. kay?
for crying out loud, i'm sappy. sorry. just felt i needed to say it.
paint decks
repair pool bricks
paint fence
plan menu
mulch beds
paint bathroom
new bathroom mirror
futon in guy’s room for don and lee
finish “bob”??
new deck umbrella
wow! yay! comments! or at least a place to LEAVE comments. gimme some love here, people. there are puppy pics, dirty jokes, and other stuff that require comments. in this respect, i AM high maintenance, i guess. just kind of missed you all. we MAY have to do as the matthew recommends and move the blogs to mt.
Just wanna be misunderstood
Wanna be feared in my neighborhood
Just wanna be a moody man
Say things that nobody can understand
I wanna be obscure and oblique
Inscrutable and vague
So hard to pin down
I wanna leave open mouths when I speak
Want people to cry when I put them down
POST-IT NOTE #2:
dvnc
pc anywhere
lap link
Sui generis - adj. [literally, of its own kind] constituting a class alone: unique, peculiar.
In medias res - adv. [literally, into the midst of things] in or into the middle of a narrative or plot.
one day last week, my boss's boss was in the office for business. i mean, he's the big boss. there are some higher, i know, but he's up there. so, my boss, her boss (the big one) and i are in the kitchen doing coffee "stuff." big boss is talking to my boss about upcoming meeting this next week, and he says, "there's gonna be a lot of legal stuff rammed down our throats." i say, in all innocence I SWEAR TO GOD, "welcome to my world."
i realize what i just said, turn bright red (i could feel it), hope nobody else heard it THAT way, and walk immediately out of the room. shit.
i just wrote this loooong, funny, brilliant post on the new blogger that i "posted" (i guess posting means something different than it used to), and it disappeared.
just pretend you read it: laugh, cry, and pretend link to it. it was about sex, kids, emotional "torture" of children, and (DUH!) starbucks. AND comment, please: i LOVE your feedback!
billy and i had the nicest weekend (sometimes the jackal was around).
on saturday we drove down to don and lee’s place where bill helped don tear off his old front porch and frame out a new one. the guys (bill, don, and don and lee's son, rusty) worked their asses off to get the job done; and i, having one of my “hit-the-wall” days sat inside and read, dozed, and was pampered by lee.
at about 4 p.m., rusty came into the room where i was dozing (pretending to be reading), went to the closet, pulled out a rifle, turned to me and said, “we’re taking a break – we’re gonna go kill something.” that might have been alarming to a more citified gal, but i’d spent enough time with these guys to know that rusty meant they were gonna go try to get a groundhog (or HOGGG as bill says in a loud, gravelly, i’m-a-bad-ass voice to me when he recounts his country adventures). farmers HATE groundhogs, you see. seems one groundhog can cost a farmer somewhere around $3,000 a year in destroyed crops. i think i have that right. so the bureau of wildlife (?) asks local farmers to kill these pests and pays them to do it. donny and rusty (and bill), however, don’t do it for profit. for them, it’s philanthropy. snort. couldn’t say that with a straight face.
the upshot of all this shootin’ and huntin’ is that you can’t drive for any distance with bill anymore without him spotting a "HOGGGG!!" annoying as hell.
on the way back up “to home” (as lee says), we spied an amish woman selling her baskets, and we picked up a really pretty “sewing” basket. the lady, seeing that i walk with a cane, asked if she could help me by carrying the basket to the car (bill had stayed in the car). i told her “no, thanks anyway, but i have a system,” and she said, “well, you walk better than my mother.” dear god, i hope she didn’t think i was old enough to be her mother. she was a very sweet looking, roundish, apple-cheeked “mom” type, accompanied by her son, whom i estimated to be around 12 or so. but when she opened her mouth to smile at me, she had no front teeth.
sunday was our 29th wedding anniversary (which i thought was a pretty good thing until i heard morley safer interviewing martha stewart on “60 minutes” and reporting that she was divorced from her husband after 29 years). i’m no martha stewart (and i don’t mean that in the usual sense), but that freaked me out. cripe.
before the “60 minutes” report, i’d been having a really nice day. out to lunch with the jackal and bill, local strawberry shopping (i will not even argue this with you: there are no better strawbs on earth than ohio grown), a trip to bath and body works for treats, golf-galaxy for new shoes and golf balls, and starbucks (duh!).
i recovered (mostly) from my bout of paranoia, and bill and i set to (don’t i sound like a country girl?) cleaning and cutting up strawbs, setting aside the ones with decent stems still attached. we dipped those in chocolate, went out for another mocha, during which time sheba dog had an attack of something yucky. this is not a dog who soils her home. ever. if she can help it. she wound up being uncomfortable most of the night, whimpering by the side of the bed anytime she needed to get out quick. which was a lot.
so that my children’s eyeballs don’t spontaneously erupt into flames, i’ll stop with the day there.
10 -- nap
11:30 -- starbuck's
12 -- lunch
1:30 -- nap
3 -- meeting with client that I will cancel -- starbuck's instead
4 – another meeting
5 -- pick u up
5:30 – guess what? another mtg
8-- starbucks
9 -- mtg. w/ new client that will take 15 min. and then I will
tell her to fuck off
10 -- nice & rough
bill
**********
From: Lang, Stacey
To: 'bill'
my god -- you are hilarious. this is a blog entry.
Stace
**********
From: Bill
To: Stace
Go ahead
From: Lang, Stacey
To: 'bill'
Subject: REMIND ME – AGAIN
really?
Stace
***********
From: Bill
To: Stace
Yes, why not -- except that "nice and rough" thing -- that's what
you're laughing at you slut
bill
**********
From: Lang, Stacey
To: 'bill'
Subject: REMIND ME - AGAIN
i'm keeping that in!
Stace
**********
From: Bill
To: Stace
Subject: FW: REMIND ME – AGAIN
Suit yourself Bill
**********
From: Lang, Stacey
To: 'bill'
Subject: REMIND ME - AGAIN
a version of this was posted previously. i took it down, spent a lot more time thinking, and did some editing. thanks, charlene, for the hugs. a few people know that bill's been going through a pretty bad time since his dad died in october -- actually, for at least the year before, as we knew dad was "going." that "event" really forced bill to have to deal with the depression. he knew he had to. he started with a new counselor a couple weeks ago, and decided he was REALLY going to open himself up wide. right away things started happening for him. it was very tough. so his doctor suggested adding another medication to the mix to help him through the tough time ahead. bill had tried this particular med for a very short time a couple of years ago; but he started feeling pretty "weird" immediately from it, so doctor said "STOP!" why we weren't more on guard for a reaction this time, i can't figure out. blinders, i guess. anyway, here's the e-mail i sent to my guys the other day to explain (just to save me some typing):
last week was very scary. ask jax. it was toughest on him. dr. h had added in a different med (along with the other) cuz he was really cranking along with g (therapist) and doing a lot of hard work on tough stuff. the combination of meds worried me when dad told me about it. within a week, your dad was starting to act different. by early last week, he was crazy. really. suicidal. scared. paranoid. thank god for your stabilizing presences -- i saw him pull himself together time after time and touch down to earth with you guys. wednesday through saturday morning were the worst days of our lives -- but that (wednesday) was also when dad had an idea of what was happening and stopped the meds. within 24 hours, he started to feel better. within a couple days, he was dad again. he feels soooo much better than he's felt in a looong time. matt, your presence last weekend was life-saving. really. i know you guys were sensing something. jax for sure saw it. before we figured it all out, i had no idea what would happen.
the meds: he had taken this other drug once before and had a less severe bad reaction -- nothing like this. when he had taken it before, dr. h said to stop it right away when he saw it was fucking him up. so dad knew he could just stop that drug (you can do that with the other med also) cold turkey. some of you in blogdom knew bill was depressed -- even knew that it was bad -- but no-one knew just how bad it was. no-one. i knew he was not bill. i was scared shitless. every conversation went someplace crazy.
he's bill again. is freaked out when he thinks about what was going on in his head. i am so thankful. to god. to a fellow blogger (who talked to him quite a bit -- he was able to share a small piece of what was going on. believe me, it was only a small piece. it was that bad for him.) to the kids and other friends -- and work (!) -- for whom he grounded himself -- even if it was only for a little while. there are even a couple days there that bill cannot remember at all! holy shit, i cannot BELIEVE where we were and where we are now.
we celebrate our 29th anniversary sunday. i've been given an early anniversary gift. the best one ever. not just bill. but i've learned so much about myself. and our marriage. and not taking things for granted. and trust. trust in the deepest sense -- trusting your partner with your heart by sharing all of yourself. happy anniversary, will. i adore you. and cherish you.
i'm not going to be doing this too much anymore. i will when i feel up to it. things are just too tough right now; and, believe it or not, i'm really not the kind of person who REALLY opens up. i've felt a lot of love here, and i'm sure i'll be looking in on you guys often, but it's just too hard, too painful, to try to write from "behind the curtain." hugs.
dammit! this is the second time i'm writing this. shut up. i know, i know: clipboard. shut up.
matty got home from cancun last night (back to pennsylvania) and hasn't been off the toilet since. so his and mel's visit home (here) has to be delayed until next weekend. bummer. we went shopping last night for lots of fresh fruit and other good stuff for weekend meals, so we'll freeze what we can, and pig out on the rest. i cannot believe how good the produce looks at our brand new costco. i don't know if it's always this good or if costco is just trying to get the people into the new store.
next weekend they'll be in town to pick out the tuxes for the wedding (!) and register at the sears home store for our july 5 shower. it's going to be a coed tool "stuff" shower, and sears has the widest selection and a registry. home depot doesn't (WHY NOT???) have a bridal registry. i thought they did, but i was wrong. lowe's doesn't either. we're gonna have a barbecue. showers are NEVER as much fun for the guests as the hosts, so ANY suggestions on how to make this less painful would be greatly appreciated.
i'm taking off an extra day on tuesday to draw this weekend out for me. i've been feeling pretty burned out here at work and trying to get rid of that by all of these long weekends. any ideas on how to help me with THAT? anyway, i think the weekend will be pretty much dedicated to napping, relaxing, eating, catching a couple of movies, and recharging of batteries. oh, and ...
miss beagle "scout" lang will be making her debut on this site sometime this weekend. bill's picking her up this afternoon. sheba's feeling pretty lonely, she's not used to being an "only dog." i don't want her to be jealous, though, so not too much attention for the puppy, please. i think i'll make her an "I'M THE BIG SISTER!" t-shirt.
Nothing But Love
