Marley & Me

I started reading Marley and Me last night. My mother-in-law got it for me for Christmas, and I finally finished the thick historical fiction I was reading so I could start. It is going to be a quick read; the author's writing style is so easy and entertaining. When Judy gave it to me, I imagined that she felt it might go well with our new, big dog. However, he has been so amazingly good that the book only somewhat reminds me of him. Mostly, I envision our friends' dog Cokie on each and every page. She was a big black lab, maybe the smartest dog we ever knew. That was coupled with stubbornness, gluttony, separation anxiety, and excess nervous energy. So while she was tons of fun to take to the lake for hours of retrieving, and had an enormous vocabulary, she also cleared out the fridge, cupboards and countertops, destroyed shoes, cushions, furniture, whatever was around, and everyone knew to quickly raise their drinks when she came through before her tail crashed them all to the floor. Her "puppy phase" never really ended and sometimes finding dog-sitters was tough.
One memorable dog-sitting moment for us was when we went out, thinking we had dog-proofed the kitchen. Cokie found, at the far back of our lazy susan cupboard, a huge Sam's Club size bag of Hershey's Kisses. We arrived home to find the plastic bag (no aluminum wrappers) laying by her, and she spent the entire night moaning and groaning before being sick all over the floor. Cokie was able to survive that and countless other gastronomic mishaps, although they did lead to health problems and rolls of thick fat.
Another famous thing about her was her drool. It was profuse and made of some bionic material that could not be scrubbed off many surfaces and ate through paint. Her sweet face was always accompanied by one or two long strings of the stuff hanging six inches or more from her lips.
Despite all this, we all loved Cokie. We didn't envy being her owners, but we loved her all the same.
So as I read this book, my mind keeps substituting Cokie for Marley, and I picture her black oily coat and thick otter tail, body wiggling from head to tip, defining the term dogged determination in everything she did, good or bad.

Contact Stress

Andrew went yesterday for an eye exam. After I believe a number of years of not quite seeing the board clearly, he confessed that things are a bit blurry far away. Sure enough, he is near-sighted. He wants the new "leave 'em in for a week" contacts. We sat down for the dreaded first time sticking something in your eyes experience. His lovely, long lashes along with those pesky reflexes foiled him and after an hour we left so he could practice touching his eyeball at home.

This reminded Bill of his first experience. We were in college and he went to Shop-Ko. His exam was at 6:00. He then proceeded to try, and try, and try to get the contacts in. Soon the employees told him it was closing time and he had to go home. Memories!

Think of Andrew Thursday after school once again trying to pass the put 'em in and take 'em out test at the eye doctor.

If You Don't Get a Response..

Alaina operates under a number of aliases now, and we are quizzed periodically by an imperious little voice that says "WELL, do you know my name?" In order to facilitate conversation with the littlest Morrissey, I enclose a list of her latest aliases. Good luck to you all.

Snow White
Cinderella
Princess Peach
Tinkerbelle
Teacher
Da Mommy
Ariel (also try Yittle Mermaid)
Belle (also try Booty)
Super Girl
Bat Girl
Flying Girl

It also is helpful to know she is 16 and "A Dult".

Big Trouble

Last night Ethan was roughhousing around and I said (not sure why) that if he didn't stop he would be in deep doo-doo. As I inwardly shook my head at that word choice, Lainey's face lit up and she said "that means big trouble!". Yes, Lainey, that's what it means.
Two nights ago Lainey had barely started her dinner when she pulled up her shirt, rubbed her belly dramatically, and said "I'm getting really full". We're in a phase when dinner is a hit or miss proposition for her, so I immediately tried to head her thought process off at the pass, saying "Lainey, you have barely touched your food, you have to eat before you're excused." With that too-quick-for-a-3-year-old-mind, she said "Did I ask to be excused? No, I only said I'm full." Well pardon me, miss big britches, but I'm pretty sure that was gonna be next.

Destination: Optimist

I'm one of those people who spends time thinking about how I should be, what I should change about myself, what my goals are, etc. In a job-related class once the term was self-actualization. It's a great thing until you do it too much. That phenomenon is often called the Ready, Set, Set, Set syndrome.
A few years ago, we began holding the Kilgore's Christmas party at a local Optimist club. I remember very well that first evening being fascinated by their creed, written boldly on one wall. I read it several times and thought, that's who I want to be. Those first few years, the party was held in December, and that creed filled me with all kinds of New Year's resolutions. Bill recently joined that Optimist club and I even posted a copy of the creed on our refrigerator. This year the party was held in January, last weekend, so too late for resolutions. I still spent a few moments re-reading the words yet again and thinking, 'what a wonderful way to live'.

So here it is, in case you haven't read it before:

The Optimist Creed: Promise Yourself-
To be so strong that nothing can disturb your peace of mind.
To talk health, happiness and prosperity to every person you meet.
To make all your friends feel that there is something in them.
To look at the sunny side of everything and make your optimism come true.
To think only of the best, to work only for the best and to expect only the best.
To be just as enthusiastic about the success of others as you are about your own.
To forget the mistakes of the past and press on to the greater achievements of the future.
To wear a cheerful countenance at all times and give every living creature you meet a smile.
To give so much time to the improvement of yourself that you have no time to criticize others.
To be too large for worry, too noble for anger, too strong for fear, and too happy to permit the presence of trouble.

The Entrepreneur

Ethan is showing signs of an entrepreneurial mind. In the past he latched onto ideas from books like lemonade stands and garage sales. The other day he came to me with a very thought out plan to gather up newspapers and "walk the streets of Columbia" selling them to people. He would write a price on each one "one might say ten dollars and another one might cost an apple or something like that." I must have looked at him with skepticism because he rushed to assure me that I could sit nearby in my car and watch out for him.
Then tonight he wanted to make cupcakes. I explained that we have lots of cake to eat up first. His face lit up and he said "should we sell it for money?". This boy's a go-getter!

Let Them Eat Cake

I'm in trouble. Thursday night our good friends the Devines brought dinner, including a sheet cake. It had some almond flavoring in it and that good old powdered sugar icing I can't leave alone. It was finally getting down to the end, then tonight our friends the Klenklen's came with a big Texas sheet cake. This item was my downfall at all the Shelter goodie days. Give me strength!

Singing Fools

Ethan's Winter Concert, for the Kindergarten and First graders at his school, was last night. It was short, but so cute. Ethan got to deliver a line and gave it great expression :-) They sang several very cute songs with hand movements to match, and the last one was even a round. Ethan was proud as punch and we were home in time for Bill to see the Championship football game.

Good Report

I returned to Dr. Crist, my orthopaedic surgeon, on Monday. They took a ton of X-Rays showing my various metal sculptures at various artful angles. Then a sweet little resident guy came in to do a practice round, followed by Dr Crist himself. The good news is, the news couldn't have been much better. I have bone growth in all the right places, and a few extra. All five breaks in the pelvis, including the hip socket, are bridging, as well as the clavical. They don't even look at the ribs; guess they always heal.
Perhaps the best news is that the femur is knitting together, even the floating piece that he thought may need a bone graft appears to be bridging the gap to the rest of the bone.
He said the range of motion of my left arm is amazing, as many folks never get full motion back. The leg wound he is also pleased with. It is still open in a few places, including one hole that just won't close up, largely due to drainage. (I think that's the bit that made Trish faint when she looked at my leg). He didn't seem too concerned about it though, and just put me on a course of antibiotics prophylactically. Wow, did I even approach spelling that right? Too lazy to check. Anyway, the scar will certainly turn heads if I wear swimsuit or running shorts, but he agreed it was amazing it looked that good or even could heal without skin grafts considering the beating it took and how torn up it was.
I did ask about the fact I can totally feel the fixator like a big knob if I roll on my left side. He said so much tissue was lost (mostly fat) during the injury that I may always feel that since there is very little between it and the surface. Guess that do-it-yourself liposuction was a bad idea!
He changed my physical therapy protocol to a progressive scale. I went from 20 pounds on the leg to 50, next week 100, next week 150 and begin weaning off the crutches. Yeah!!!!! I went to therapy yesterday and stood on the scale to get a feel for it. 50 pounds is quite a bit when just standing. Walking puts more than your body weight on due to momentum, so can't do that yet. I got to do a regular stationery bike though, and leg presses with one foot on the scale to watch how much I press on it.
Oh, and another big thrill, I can discontinue the daily injections of blood thinners!! Not that sticking something in your belly each morning isn't a great wake-up call, but..... Also, I asked about the fabled card that you can show airport security so they don't hassle you too much when you set off the metal detectors. Dr. Crist laughed and said they don't respect those much anymore, and I would likely have to go to a little room and show them my scars. He did give me one though and I can see why. I had imagined we would fill out a form and the card was issued from some transportation agency. Instead, it is a pre-printed card with the hospital name and info, then a blank where they wrote in my name. I will take it and copies of my X-rays along just in case they help, but not optomistic.
That's the gist of it. Hoping no crutches by February!!!!!!!

What to Do When It's 70 Degrees in January

Today was so great! It was supposed to get to 62 degrees with afternoon rain. Instead we got roughly 70 and sunny. Add to that it's a Saturday and Bill is off work. Bill, Ethan, Alaina and I went out with the dogs and had a blast. They rode bikes, flew kites, hit baseballs, played "summer camp", did sidewalk chalk, ran with the dogs, you name it. Soon the jackets came off like a day in spring. I even shaved Sasha for the first time in a long while. I fancied she was jealous of Cody's new fancy shave. Jordan had Alexis over and they even poked their faces out for a bit. Shortly after we came in, both the little kids were sound asleep. Tomorrow is a return to reality weather-wise, but we sure enjoyed our day in the sun!