More of what i refuse to let bother me..

Other than the usual things that bother, would be thusly. I don't understand the concept behind the spelling of the word "9th". Somewhere along the line in English land, someone has changed a rule I thought I knew. Ninth Ward, Nineth Ward. I know which one I think is correct. Apparently not, though! Google it!

Who knew? I felt like such a ninny! Or is that niney? I have achieved a new disgust with my own capricious language. Colour. Centre. C'mon, who cares, then?? Afraid of freight. Brought to you by...You can't use that word without worrying someone can't read it...

a truck driver we know asked for a sticker "If you got it, a truck brought it" and I made it, KNOWING it wouldn't work. Not enough know that's a rhyme... I cannot do "brot". It's wrong.

I saw a mistake made by another sign company, they spelled "Managed" wrong. How do people do that. I didn't even mention it to the guy, hey, he had inherited my old building, when it changed Management. They can fix their own darned mis-edits.

Ah well. I fracture the language as much as I can anyway.

Here's a name of the week for ya. Richard Nice. Who would do that to their kid? Think about it. Why not Steven!? It's just not nice, impathetico. And why isn't "nice" pronounced "niss"??

Otherwise, in other news, I manged (yup, that's how it was spelllllled..) to finally get some white on the ground for Christmas. I cancelled my appointment for snow tires. The very next day we had the white stuff, thank you!! My snows are more aged than my all-seasons, from using them too long last "winter", when we had summer by March. Besides, when I have the snow power, I might as well use it. I noticed a pattern a few winters ago. Every time I washed my car, it snowed. It happened that June, too. Weird. If I don't use it up, it doesn't go away:)

Christmas comes hard for me each year, as I muddle through my middling life. I am still moved to tears by the strangest seasonal provocations, and I am mystified that "Die Hard" seems to be the current Christmas Eve afternoon TV tradition, when it should be "A Christmas Story" with my old pal Darren McGavin.

It's Christmas Eve, let's show some respect. Especially since I need to cancel my TV scrip.

Money is going to be tight for a bit, I can smell it. And will I truly miss the boob-tube? I have friends that haven't owned a TV ever. I grew up with the darn thing, being a child of the radio-active age. We started staring at about what, 5? 6? We were "well-to-do" to have a TV, I remember that. I wonder at my eyeballs, the flickering lights sure worked with me. I remember Mom didn't like how our little faces would go blank as we watched...

My resolves for 2013 are harder to come by. I will let anger pass through me. I (incredibly) did not react when a customer was extraordinarily unjustifiably rude about my right-hand-man. I bit my tongue, and sent him on his grumpy, soon to be retiring way. I am grumpy, too. But that passes. My aging processes are fascinating:) Hey, what else do I have?!

Oh, right, my surroundings, which have continued to break my heart. I am resorting to aromatherapy, so far, my nose is undecided.

Huge changes may happen in 2013. They may not. Having thirteen in the year isn't going to be pleasant for us superstitious folks. So maybe I just have to work a little harder at my own luck/fate/flip of the cards.

Or Stick flipping...

Mildred Lorraine Macdonald. Miss ya, good girl.

Merry Christmas, dear earth...

For OBP

LOL, well, as usual, a reply to a reader comment made a post. How do you do that... My blather button finally coalesces, for a minute.
This was to be my brief Reply to your comment, OBP, and again, thanks for the pings.
That's what I think kids "take away" from rodeo. That NOT handling them is fine, and wrestling with them is normal/good. I wouldn't mind this as much if the point was to teach something useful. I guess it's the old instructor in me.

When I first found a SHARK video, I had no sound on my computer. It helps a lot. I don't agree with old Steve's harsh judgement of the entire rodeo planet, which is what gets people annoyed in the first place.
Heck, I wouldn't even MIND the broncs so much if they'd skip the flanking and the spurring. Horses that "love to buck" should BUCK. I keep hearing "it makes them buck straighter, so they don't hurt themselves". I dunno, I think flanking makes them panic. I guess it's no fun, or something, if the horse isn't at least pissed off. The experienced broncs mostly stalled in the chute. The REALLY well-bred ones came out backwards. They all reacted strongly to the flank application. And to me, not in a good way.

Gosh. I am one cranky old broad. I love watching a good bucking horse, with a rider that can sit him. Did you watch the SHARK video of the CS bronc throwing himself to the ground several times, and rolling? CBC didn't show THAT. CS horse, "born to buck", or have fits. Whatever. But CBC did show the chute staff just whaling on the broncs' heads to get them out of the chute.

How weird is this rationalization, anyway, from a rodeo supporter. "Bronc riding is rather different than other events. Its the only one that you work against the horse to win. so yeah the standard rules are going to be a little different."

Yeah, standard rules fly right out the freakin' window. How is that good... And what does that teach the new rider?!

I remember a horse named "Smudge" that I re-broke for his owner. Wild man. Gorgeous fire-breathin' dragon he was, bright liver solid chestnut, an early warm-blood, with LOTS of blood. He could have made a great bronc, I think. If I had rewarded him each time, and shaped the way I wanted him to... Nah. Hard to re-sell:)

I taught first mare Royal Gamble to buck. Then I quit, quick. They can really start to dig it after a while:)
There was an ex-bronc at the barn I worked at for a few months through university. "Pirate" was his name, cute little light bay, never EVER touch his ears for any reason. Bridle him, fine. Leave ears ALONE. His back was so sad. The barn tried using him for polo, but he later ended up at Peter's barn for a while, and I rode him a bit. (This was after GL sold.)
Pirate's back was board stiff, he could NOT trot to start. He just couldn't. I had to walk and then canter to loosen him, and he had the dearest little tiny rockin' horse canter. STIFF, though, so, so stiff:(
I just wonder what he went through, before the rodeo owner decided he was NOT born to buck.

Anyway, I promise to stop ranting so much. There are much larger problems to deal with in this world.

Like who gets the couch.

Thanks to FV too, for her patience with me and my foibles. I got a few;)

OH, NO!!

I'm going there, AGAIN!!
How can I post another SHARK video, I am such a deranged tree-hugger/pussy/vegan/more expletives than you can shake a sock at... Quick, where's my chequebook, I gotta send SHARK/PeTA/HSUS some money!! That'll fix everything! sigh.
But ya know, the thing is, I saw this already, on CBC-TV, our most bestest esteemed Canadian Broadcasting Corporation's coverage of the Calgary Stampede. This is the "high" point of every show. People LOVE to watch kids being dragged around by ponies, ponies falling on kids, kids falling off and under ponies, kids wrestling ponies to the ground! It's hilarious, it's a blast!! Did you see that one girl, looks like she broke her neck! AWESOME!!

sigh. Why do you think my horse light has burnt out? (Besides the obvious!) Because as long as THIS is funny, I am not going anywhere near a barn. Or a horse. Or a pony. I'm too ashamed of my species to look them in the eye. Well, that, and my own deep sense of guilt &/or sorrow for so many of the horses I've known. Horse baggage can be pretty heavy, ya know.

I have finally accepted I have a minority sense of humour. Some might even say I have no sense of humour. Ah well. As long as I can make myself laugh, I'll be alright. As long as there are dogs smiling at me, I'm good.

Falling Scenes, with thanks.

Taken November 7, 2012

Picture taken October 7, 2012

To the veterans of our wars.
Thank you. 

You Know....

When I was throwing that pitchfork at that horse 37 years ago, deep in the throes of whatever was messing me up at that time, I guess I should have been grateful.
No-one video-taped me. I didn't miss, and I got the poor bugger's withers, and he wouldn't come near me after that. Huh. Wonder why.... He healed up fine. We were "lucky" I was such a bad aim at that time. Since I became a dog person, my aim has greatly improved;)

I guess my point is, anyone can look bad for 11 seconds on you-tube. But I have to wonder. No-one saw me do what I did, just the unfortunate horse. If anyone HAD seen me, I hope they would have said something to make me aware what I was doing was wrong. Only I did that. As soon as the pitchfork left my hand, I was horrifed at my actions, and it shook my brain back onto the semi-even keel it semi-enjoys today;) I stopped doing stuff that was wrong. I stopped a lot of badness to myself.

Today, it seems, the opposite happens.

I have to smile that my discussion video has a ton of views, but no opinions. There are some people in horses who don't seem to know what's wrong anymore. We love staying in one century. It's starting to feel like the freakin' 1600's again.

I definitely would have said something to that guy. Or would I? Who am I to say what's wrong? I guess just my head. Just my heart.

8 Years together!! Arrived Nov. 4, 2004!

She's had a pretty good life so far:)

Blaze turned 6 on October 26, 2012! My puppy:)

Her life hasn't been too bad either:)

Discussions, probably not...

Ingenuity Fail, Mom!!

 I had the appalling temerity to place a decapitated jolly ball handle around Blaze's most favouritest ever nippl/bbly ball. Then I took her picture.
"Oh, woe is me. How could you. My FAVOURITE toy. (Well after Frisbee, but still!) My life is ruined, ruined, I tell ya!"
The jolly-ball handle had been sitting outside for, oh, eons, when Blaze found it, and thought it was the coolest thing, ever. It has become third favourite. Clearly, she prefers I do not mess with her toys.

Then, oh, NO, I took Flips' picture. You can see how thrilled she is. Right after I put the camera away, I was treated to typical kelpie chaos play, hilarious. Apparently, it's a top-secret thing with Flip.
And yes, Blaze's ears really are that big:)

Here they are at work. It's the end of the day, and they wanna go home. Like, now. They like working, but they like it when it's over, too.

You can see a black box in the top left corner of the pic. That's my battery back-up for the computers, and it sits beside my desk. Flip likes to press her head up against it, when she's sleeping under my desk. She's really into technology:)

JustaFunny

I love this. Friend of mine sent me the link, I think because I basically have no bathroom, either.

Yes, I finally learned how to screen-cap, I am SO proud!!
There are definitely some pros to having no toilet. You don't have to clean it. I have a peculiar aversion to, well, I guess it isn't peculiar, but I seem to gag more easily these days. Shouldn't experience make me stronger, less prone to upchuckage? Noo, I seem to quease easier every day. I mean, not every day!! I mean, when I have to go, I go, but, but. BUTT.
I hate human poop. There. I've said it. Why do y'think I avoided bearing children, other than for the obvious reasons I had at the time? I have NEVER liked baby poop. Sorry, Dad, Senior poop also qualifies as dizgustink:(
This has been a test of the Going.
Lightly into some other night. Not mine!!

Here's a too sad, too, just so you know I still have some issues buzzing around in my poor little peabrain.

Yeah, well, I'm not saying NOTHING. This is from 2011, and the good old government hasn't gutted any farmer programs, have they!! Oh, wait, right, they have...

I've discovered a new perjorative word to describe my outlook on animals. I am a WELFARIST.
Oh, the horrors...
To all the angry vegans out there...
Bite me.

Shallow Depth

I should admit that the term "Jane, you ignorant slut" (or "JYIS"for shortened)  has always made me laugh, and I blame Saturday Night Live, with Jane Curtin & Bill Murray. for that. I know the term isn't exactly flattering. It just makes me laugh. Always has. I Love the name Jane. Weird. The evolution of shock comedy, I was around for that... Then it became just plain stoopid, and I gave up.

I am soo shallow, I'm actually deep with shallowness.

If it isn't funny right away, it really isn't funny. I've never used the JYIS in public company, of course, but since I get little (yes, my choice) company at all, I have to be careful when I DO (gasp) go out, because my inappropriateness keeps shining through. Like I bought what I considered a plain, light weight (it's HOT here, and my car A/C can quit) black dress for a very sad funeral (my Dad's dearest  BF/BIL).
I asked the clerk, can I wear this in public? She answered suuuure. I didn't say I was going to a funeral, of course. BIG mistake. HUGE.  I just am hopeless, I tell ya... I basically wore a nightie. At least it came down to my knees. My siblings are gonna laugh about this for years...

Some things just aren't funny. I won't go into them here, because everyone doesn't want to hear about it anyway, it's all over the news. Just watch it. Believe me, you'll find something that REALLY isn't funny.

Anyway, who cares about thaT. What about MEeEEeeeEEEEee.  You too, of course, otherwise I wouldn't have started typing ANYthing. But some of you (still?) ping me, even though I'm an animal-wights oddist. I stand for chickens everywhere. Horses too, but never mind.

I tell animal wights people that we've got no right to say animals have rights, since WE caught them and bred them and domesticated the ever loving hell out of them. Animal wights people HATE that, dunno why. Anti-animal wights peeps hate me too, I've noticed. Ah well. Can't please everyone, or is that anyone, in my case?

I eat meat, still. Oh, the horror. But I've cut back, and so far, I haven't died. I'll keep ya posted on that, for sure.

My whole life has been one long biology experiment anyway, I've been keeping myself fascinated for years. I love experiments.

For instance, (you KNEW there was a forinstance) I was raised on sugary foods and all that good stuff. I lived on Coca-cola while I was teaching. I have a horrific sweet tooth, really kept the old dentist busy in my growing years (thanks Parents!) In May or so, Doctor decided I was sortanotquite reallydiabetic. "Pre-diabetic" Doctor called it. Although I was previously amazed my normal body function tests hadn't registered my habit of eating dark chocolate m&m's INSTEAD OF real food, my blood tests finally came back with an tiny little EEEK.

Well, not really. I had been uber-stressed over Dad, who is doing amazing, his Doctor says he has a higher power looking after him now. Anyway. I sorta had symptoms, eye-wise and exhaustion-wise and generally tired-wise, and I was dumb about my diet while he was scaring the heck out of us.

I was too busy/stubbornly oblivious to change. WELL.

Doctor said I had to cut back on potatoes and pasta. Of course, my favourites carbs. Checking the sugar in what you buy is an eye-opening, ANNOYINGLY so, because now I need glasses to read the fine print, experience. They put that sugar in EVERYthing.

Was there any point to this post?

Um, no. Not this time. I just wanted to show my appreciation for the pingers.

Do you know, I'm STILL tinkering with these darned images. Everytime I think I've made it clear, I see something that doesn't look perfect. It's a darned sign-makers curse, I tell ya.

Maybe I should just give it a title. "Horse Comfort Zone". But then I'd have to post the DIScomfort Zone, wouldn't I....

(poof!)

Strange Days, indeed

I watched the oddest TV commercial tonight, for a product I won't need to name, once I'm done. I hope. The product promised to remove odours from rooms filled with  rotting, mouldy food/poopy pets/I don't even want to know.. "Contestants" were blind-folded, and led into this truly disgusting messy room, clearly odorous, BUT the miracle product had been used. The players didn't smell a thing! Isn't that great?? The product REMOVES smells! Um, our scent sense was developed to warn us of bad stuff. Like mould. Like rotten, shitz producing food. Like feces, for cryin' out loud! What about the SOURCE of the smell, how do we eliminate that??

Why in blooody heck aren't we just cleaning up instead? I mean, hello. It's like we're being encouraged to be total slobs or something. Let's get on "Canada's Dirtiest House"! Tonight, on HGTV! WEIRD. Heck, "my" house has been very well qualified as a showcase of filth for years, but I sure didn't want a spray to mask how yucky it was. That's just wrong.
My husband used the product once, in this fairly (okay, mostly incredibly) stinky house. My lungs said NO. They just closed when I smelled that stuff. I'd rather know what I'm breathing, myself.
Maybe it's just me.


My nose is the happiest it's been in a LONG time! The ecological disaster has been (mostly) eradicated!
No products have been used that are designed to kill my scent sniffer.

My Nose being so tiny and delicate and all.

Not.

Wha's your favourite smell?
For me, cinnamon. Cinnamon rules.
Horses are second, by a nose.
Huge hugs to all who continue to bravely ping here. Your pings mean a lot. My pingolator has pretty much croaked.
OH, and Butch is still avidly reading.

It takes him forever to turn the pages, poor old dear. He hit 55 this year, and has earned his honourable retirement.

More Pictures & Stuff 2

Volunteer flowers

THIS is a water-dripper. See below.

Still a sucker for these pansies

Coyote in Butch's field

Coyote pup? in Butch's field.

My latest invention for "my" birds is shown above. We've gone through 3 of the "regular" water-dripper thingies, you know the type, fine "U" shaped design, for hooking on to your birdbath, 1/4" rubber tubing. Each lasted about three minutes, in my back "yard". The first one's dripper thingie was tooo fine, and our hard water blocked the noozle nozzle, and the tubing started leaking. Second one developed mysterious leaks in the tubing, until finally more water was spraying into the garden, then dripping into the birdbath.

Bought yet another one, because I love watching birds do their thing, and again, within a few minutes (weeks) the danged tubing was leaking again. I had THOUGHT the tubing was just old and worn out the last time. But I discovered WHY the darned things start leaking in the first place. The chickadees were pecking holes in the tubing. Yeah, little aviators, also bloody vandals.
So this is my fix. Peck through THAT, chickadee. Works a treat, not even that ugly:)
If you look closely, on the left, a chickadee (of course) was first to try the new set-up. Funny little things. Crazy bird lady. That's me:)

Pictures & Stuff

So angelic, isn't she?

Now she's plotting. Why? Flip smelled something.

So did the turkey vultures.

This corpse was dragged out of the spillway by the vultures.

Vultures were so HAPPY!

My Bleeding Heart...

Sad, and true

"squeamishness and shallow anthropomorphism have led far too many people to think of animals as having human-like emotions and deserving to be protected from supposed "exploitation" by humans. This attitude represents something close to a betrayal of humanity, because it refuses to give proper recognition to the uniqueness of human consciousness. Compared to humans, animals are basically machines made of meat. We should do what we want with them".

I can't even remember where I found this comment, but you get the idea. This I will agree with. This, I do not.


I would like to point out that our own consciousness as humans prevents us from understanding how unique the consciousness is of other species. Our god-like superiority is assumed, without thought for the fact that they can forecast weather. We spend billions of dollars, and still don't get rain. We need a GPS. They know where they're going. We cannot believe they may be "better" than us, in ways we're still trying to figure out, because they aren't human. I won't label that speciesism. I label that stubborn. Life isn't a competition to see who ends up first. Bugs are going to do that. Have we figured them out yet? Heck, no. How does a bee fly? Anybody?

Have we figured out how to stop on a dime, with the force of 10 G's? No. Can we dive into the ocean depths, or survive for thousands of years as a spore? We are outnumbered, 10 to 1, by bacterial cells, in our own bodies. We finally figured that out, and now we're starting to worry about the willy-nillyness of antibiotics and diseases that we've inadvertently created by cramming a whole shit-ton of critters in one spot. jmo.

We need to start looking at things differently, perhaps with more empathy, perhaps not.  I will never look at an animal as if it were a machine. I haven't seen any science yet that can make a machine from flesh.

Maybe I'm missing something.

I just wish I could figure out what it was.

Aliens Have Landed!!

A strange trail of alien slime?

An odd divot in the ditch?

Blackened earth?

Scorched/fried/dead grass, but the fence is untouched/unscorched??

It can only be one thing!

I don't know about you, but I will be looking over my shoulder.

with apologies to William Goldman

The thing of it is...
Did you hear about Bill 37? A Conservative MPP by the very annoying name of Jack MacLaren was pushing forward this new way for the OSPCA to do things. The Bill said "It just won't. Do things." Not that it was all that useful before. Egregious cruelty? Call the cops! They are just as versed in animal welfare, right? Well, it certainly appears that way to me, sorry. Also, OSPCA would not be responsible for farm animal welfare. Shelter Organization, no more OSPCA officers storming down your door. Taking your dog without your knowledge, and euthing it, without calling you first...
Sure, Rocky probably looked rough. He was 16 years old, ffs. I'll look rough too, if I ever hit 112 years old...

Pets, ONLY, for the OSPCA! Are horses pets yet? Just asking. OSPCA had "throughbreeds for adoption", not that long ago.That would again, be someone else's problem. OMAFRA, I think, was the idea. See a sad cow? Call a farmer. And you know what? It does make sense to me. The laws governing meat animals are completely, I mean COMPLETELY, against anything we'd ever subject our companion animals to. But the laws are pretty much the same, for both. Figure THAT out.
 (afternote, the Bill was defeated. There were parts of it I actually liked, but NOT the part about vets not having to report cruelty, anymore. Mind you, that isn't working, obviously, anyway. Vets, after all, are human too.)

I still haven't heard of any convictions being successfully laid against anybody charged with cruelty by the OSPCA. There was an animal torture case that happened last May 2010 or so. Guy put his GF's dog in the microwave. I never read anything more about it.
Why IS that? I can tell you why. The animal welfare movement is always struggling in this country. Now, why would that be? I think the blame lies equally between the people of this country and their governments. Well, duh. I think the animal RightS movement has given far too many people far too mch false knowledge and plain bad sense. Duh, again. The death threats the AR people throw around like confetti are creepy as hell. Sure, the true bastards deserve more than what they get, absolutely! But to lump all animal-enjoyers into the same twisted little ball peeves me off.

This story, to me, is the wacky side of animal rightS. Who keeps a foal with severe scoliosis alive? It's own dam rejects it, and the no-sensers are all dewey-eyed about letting it LIVE, to suffer until they have to put the poor critter down. I mean, c'MON. The dewey-eyers were even surprised at the dam's rejection!? Sensible broodie, you ask me. It's sad. It's nature. Life, death, all that crap.

Some of you think I already have bad sense, but that's another issue entirely:)
And so not my problem, because they are after all, MY senses. I see what I see.

Animals that we capture have NO rights. None, zero. Finders, keepers.
"Meat" animals. Any animal at all.
Domestication through the years has resulted in new and amazing ways to produce food. Trouble is, people get totally grossed out by how we figured out how to produce it, using models that take into account 10-20% mortality per year... Maximum profit is the driving force, of course.

And that must remain true, for all of us to continue to own animals. Sad, eh? It's like this weird Moebius Loop. Animals are boxes.
Our earliest domestication of animals has always by definition, stressed that animal. How DID we domesticate our beasties? Think about it. The most domesticated animal on the planet has to be the dog. Or maybe the chicken. Now, obviously, these are two separate distinct species. Various methods of domestication resulted in the animals we are free to be cruel to, today.
You read that right.
Because really, how did we do it?
How do we do it, today?

RIP to the horses killed at the Grand National. There's another tough one for me. I know horses love to run and jump. But others will rather vehemently tell me that ALL racing is bad, and blah, blah, blah. I've read that horses do NOT love to run and jump, and I wonder, how could they say that? I've never seen one that wanted to stand still 24/7. That's not illegal, of course. For a horse to be stilled, 24/7.

Much needs to change. I just hope we can all try to get on the same page, someday. For all critters.

Jeeepers, SOMEbody missed me when I took this private for paranoia purposes for a bit. Glad you're back, Ohio! Unless, of course, you are the ...
Nah.
My psycho-detector has been quiet for a while. Whew.

Here's another Stanley pic. He is doing fabulously, and he loves his new chair. What a wonderful cat he is. He helped defibrillate me one night, as I waited for a call from the hospital to come and pick up Dad. Don't know what I'd have done, without that furry purring kneading noodle calming me down... Dad was fine. I was a total wreck:)

Clever Boy....

Staaaanley, not so stinky

Flight and Fight

For those who don't know, my Dad is even older than I am, by nearly four decades. Dad has some interesting behavioural traits that have increased as he's marched along through life. One of his biggest problems, still, is that his brain tells him to move at the speed of a 30 year old, while his body is about 90, with tissue paper thin skin and a bum ticker, so that when he gets up quickly, well, his body slows him back down anyway it can.

My Dad, photo taken by My Sister - Date TBA:)

Dad has managed to cut hisself at least oh, 5 times in the past few months. Using an electric cart the last time, he ripped a triangular arrow, pointing up, thank heavens, out of the back of his calf. Still had the flap of skin and everything. On an electric cart. I went and looked at the cart, and still can't figure out how he managed to do that.  Anyway, he's at the GIANT grocery store, and goes to the pharmacy to ask for a band-aid. In the cart, of course. The pharmacy rushes him over to the walk-in clinic, where a doctor tries to fix him up. I  can just imagine. Naturally, Dad didn't have his OHIP card on him. He was just going to the store! So he had to pay $75.00 to be treated with a large band-aid. Talk about adding insult to his injury. The last time, he cut himself getting out of the dentist's chair, and then on a ATM box at the convenience store, on the same day. The man wants to leave his mark on Toronto! Anyway, I digress.

The last few times he's had to go into hospital, he's been a code white patient on the second day. Security must be called to keep him in bed, or he will go HOME. Just try and stop him! He hallucinates, and can be really ugly about it. BOY could he get ugly about it. I was around for the first "display". I laugh about it now. Not so much fun, back when it happened about 7 years ago. I helped diagnose his problems, (amazing how many people can't recognize it) and since then, he's really tried to cut back, so that when he has had to go BACK into hospital, the crazy number two night wasn't quite so bad. It almost killed him the first time. Even the nurses were a little wild-eyed by what Dad endured that first, terrible time. How could he survive a heart-rate like that, day after day? Well, he did. Fight.

Dad has worked hard to get himself fit enough to play golf, and last summer was his best season yet! He won a trophy or two, made good bucks betting on his favourite game. Darn it all, though, his legs had been paining him, and he was breathless and dizzy this fall. Two valves in his heart weren't valving properly, which was why he got so dizzy and breathless. Of course, he didn't slow down.

So, he decided to have a few tests done, to see if he'd make a good candidate for a new procedure that doesn't involve cracking his chest, as he calls it. The first test was last Valentine's Day, and he was supposed to go home, with supervision, that night. (He lives alone, btw. I know, I know. Dad smokes too. Not much, but still.)

Dad is still there, 2/22/2012, BUT hopeful that he's coming out tomorrow!

Anyway, here's the fight/flight part. Dad went in for the test, but his response was poor, his leg was VERY painful, and then went numb. Not good. This time, on the second night, he again had security called, because he was found wandering the halls, having ripped out his IV. (He was discovered to be anemic, and had next to no HgB, poor guy.) Ayup, Dad was leaving the hospital, and he shoved his night nurse out of the way to do it. Took out his IV drip himself, as he was ready to check out of this joint.

BUT, this time, after the security people "held him", he called an old female friend, instead of me. 12:30am, Dad calls her, and says "The hospital security is holding me here. Will you come and pick me up?" He sounds completely lucid and rational to her. It's freezing rain outside. His friend wasn't born yesterday of course, and calls me. I have to laugh a little. He's flighting to get out. He wants to GO HOME. I call the night nurse, who says "OH, I am SO glad you called!! Was your father in the war? Does he know a woman named Crystal?" Yes, he was in the Navy, he didn't see any "action", (although he is still a hero in my eyes), and nope, no woman named Crystal. That I know of, anyway.
He can watch movies on the ceiling when he's like this. Slightly (okay, lots) delirious, but NOTHING like he was the first time. So the nurse says "Can I restrain him?" I say, YES Please. I think the threat kept him down for the rest of the night. I called him and talked to him, and he was eerily there, but not there. He asked, "Am I berserk?" I reassured him he wasn't. But he was AWARE he was loopy, and that was a good sign to me, anyway. I am sure the night nurse would have preferred all non-loopy, but at least she has stories to tell:)
By Friday, his leg was still bad, and the Docs ran another test, and scheduled him for bypass-surgery, as they'd discovered a blockage in his previous bypass-graft. So, Saturday at dawn, off he went. (More to that story, but it's for later, maybe.)
My family, naturally, is TerriblY worried, and at about the five hour mark of waiting in the Critical Care Unit's waiting room, one of the saddest places on earth, the call comes that we can go in and see him. And what a sight it was...
Dad had a male nurse and a female nurse, and I knew their expressions well. Dad was thrashing as hard as he could, trying to sit up, so he could go HOME. He's just out of anaesthetic, and he's fine, and he's going HOME, you f**king *ssHoles!! The leg they'd operated on has already hit the floor, by the time we get there. They called us in to help. His leg was on the floor for the second time, when we got there. He'd wiggled his IV out. He was FIGHTING, dammit! They had to sedate him. But not before he yelled out, in response to my "If you want to live, stay still, dad",
"I'D RATHER DIE OF A HEART ATTACK THAN BE HERE!!"
Thrash thrash thrash, swear, swear, swear, we hold him down, a new IV line is run, and he's finally quiet. He doesn't die. You should have seen the look on the faces of the patients and staff. Most of the patients, of course, were lying quietly, you know, because they were in a hospital, right after major surgery, in a CCU. Not my Dad!
He'll fight, or flight. Whichever works best, right, Dad?
Just as he finally started to settle, I told him how proud I was of him.
I so, so am.

Love you, Dad.
thanks to SOS for the idea.

Have you searched for yourself?

Have you searched for yourself? Lately? I just love those LinkedIn updates. They always make me laugh.

Well, have you? How silly. I'm right HERE. Last I looked, anyway. I don't ever search for myself. Does that mean I don't care about myself, or that I don't care that others are (or aren't) searching for me? It's so confusing, this modern age of ours.

I am found!

Now I feel guilty for NOT searching for myself more often. Okay, since I never do it, more often is kinda dumb too. Plus, my name is pretty common, so the reams of other crap isn't really worth wading through. I know people that know more than one of me, it's sad, really. How common am I? I guess that's why I don't search for myself.

I am not in danger of extinction.
whew.