Love, love love me some Fry and Laurie

While in St. George and riding high on birthday wishes I talked myself into buying 3 seasons of Jeeves and Wooster. Lest you stop reading in disgust at my being such a horrendous spendthrift, let me tell you that they were half price at Barnes and Noble. I insisted on watching a few immmediately (of course) and managed to make a new fan of them out of one of my sisters. The other sister we are having evaluated for mental acuity and giving her another chance.

 Ever since I got home I have been making my way through the rest. It has reminded me how talented Hugh Laurie and Stephen Fry are.  I feel pity for the people in this country who only know Hugh Laurie as Dr. House. His talent is so much bigger than that role that it's just sad for them. I also just feel so bad for all the people who only know Stephen Fry as Gordon Wyatt on Bones or the voice of the Cheshire Cat or heaven forbid, don't know him at all. Sad sad sad. I know you can make your arguments for Rowan Atkinson, John Cleese and a few other Brits; these 2 are my hands down favs for absolutely dripping talent.

So, here's the grand plan. Follow the 3 links below and enjoy before you give in and watch the whole damned thing. Then go watch Blackadder Goes Forth:Major Star because it's just too long to post here and it's genius and then go watch A Bit of Fry and Laurie and then go listen to Stephen Fry narrate Harry Potter and then check out Hugh Laurie's CD Let Them Talk  while you peruse Stephen Fry.com/blog and feel like a dimwitted baboon and and and...I think you get the picture. You're welcome.  

http://youtu.be/MT52HhtJ6kU

http://youtu.be/0ifQYiT90p4

 http://youtu.be/Daa8ZnxC-0Y

It counts

I had a different post in mind but that was before the Daytona 500 turned into a fireball. Even if you aren't a Nascar fan you should go check it out. Crazy.

http://sports.yahoo.com/nascar/news;_ylt=Ava5HxbkvbVRCuosmPAgHoDh9It4?slug=ap-nascar-daytona500-fire

 I now have just enough time to watch the big finish before I hit the hay. I guess since at the start of this dumb experiment I said I would write ANYTHING, this counts. Barely.  

Balls...

I only occasionally look at my blog. It's weird and kinda creepy to sit and read your own blog all the time. I will check to make sure the quote went up properly, the background looks right or whatever but that's about it. In the course of doing so today, I noticed that I have posted only 6 times in February. Including Suzie's post. Tut. Even with the good excuse of 10 days web-free in the hospital, that is just pathetic. Talk about dropping the ball. Ball dropping of epic proportions you might say. I may be one of the best ball droppers of all time. If you need any of your balls dropped in a spectacular fashion, lemme know. Okay, that last one sounded kinda dirty. Inadvertently of course, but that's the best kind. Not even gonna erase it. Now I'm going to go change the title to reflect that one sentence. See how I am? Anyway. Back to the subject at hand. I was sure I wouldn't get this close to absolute failure until at least the end of March. I have managed to miss even my own low expectations. While deciding on today's quote I came across this one:

"The distance is nothing; it's only the first step that is difficult."

Sorry, Marquise du Deffand, I understand the point you're trying to make but you're wrong. Wrongety wrong wrong wrong. Anybody that has tried to stick to a diet can tell you that it's the distance that truly kicks your ass. Every stinkin' time. As hard as it is to make yourself start something, it's what comes after that pistol whips you and leaves you tied to a plastic lawn chair and bleeding from the mouth. The whole point of this year of blogging was to prove to myself that I didn't have to be that person anymore. All it took was a bad few weeks to knock that sideways. Everyday I open this new post window, spend all day walking past it with one eye closed and closing it down at night with a sigh. I have spent the last three weeks talking Suzie into fighting one last time every time she said she couldn't go any further. Just last night I gave Turner the "Life will push you down and kick you in the ribs until you decide to kick back" talk. There have been whole days that I've done nothing but tell Suzie not to let this beat her, that she's as strong as she wants to be and that life is going to hand her ass if she lets it. Not once have I bothered to take that to heart for myself. Like I said, pathetic. So; here I am, down but not quite out. Ready to take one more shot before I say Uncle.

How my life was after I had my appendix removed!

This is Suzie. I am bored so I am blogging today. I don't know if anybody knows how appendicitis feels but I'll give you some advice if you get it:You may not eat food for a week so you just eat ice chips. Also when you can eat food you can not eat high fat food or greasy food for a whole 'nother week it sucks. Oh also you have to have a tube in your nose, and trust me you don't want a tube in your nose. Being in the hospital for ten days is so boring. I've tried it. All you do is sit around and watch movies, then you hate the movies you used to love cause you've watched them so many times. Wait, unless its Tremors, you can never hate that movie! If you've missed a month of school and you've missed almost three units in math and you don't know how to do it. Well you'll never catch up cause let me tell you missing a month of school gives you a book report and two stacks of math. Oh and you get some science and spelling! But one good thing is every day people bring gifts like fat pillows and stuffed animals....etc.Try to stay healthy!

It's H E double toothpicks for you then!

I have never made a secret of the fact that I'm going to hell. Pretty sure anyway. After this weekend, I am also heading to scrapbook hell. And I'm taking a few of my sisters(blood related and other)with me.  Since the judgemental vein I settled into earlier felt like such a good fit, we kept that going whilst perusing the new scrapbook mags that we dragged down here to the land of crazy old people. We had nothing else to do since the aforementioned oldies had decended enmasse and made it impossible to venture forth without feeling our lives (not to mention our front quarter panels) were in danger. Turns out that my scrapbook snobbishness extends to the mocking of demonic looking kids, stupid looking husbands and squint eyed contributers that may or may not have eaten most of their supplies. Even though that did seem to be the most likely explanation for how she and her cards looked. I suppose the fault lies with me. Maybe I really feel my inadequacies and this is the only way I know how to deal with it. If everybody putting those magazines together thinks everything in them are stellar, then it really MUST be me. If I can't find the beauty in a layout featuring tissue paper flowers that resemble Oprah's va-jay-jay more than flowers, I obviously need to re-assess my scrapbooking priorities. If you start getting cards saying "you're the glue that keeps us together" or "He is Risen" cards that look like they've been sketched by a mentaly handicapped box turtle, just keep in mind that you're keeping me that much further from you know where.

A day...

Okay-I lied. You didn't see me yesterday. Since I know you almost peed your pants waiting for me to post something, I apologize to all 2 1/2 of you. (I don't count the school of retarded jelly fish that read this on occasion) I have a stellar excuse though. I'm in St. George with web access and no computer if truth be told. No, I'm not writing this post using back magic. I reserve that for special occasions. I am sitting at Barnes and Noble, drinking marginal coffee and typing on Shelley's fancy laptop that she was just sleep deprived enough to hand over. Foolisher and foolisher. Maybe if I keep her up late enough tonight I can convince her that we were robbed by the garden gnomes roosting in her garage and keep it. Can you see me rubbing my hands together and hear the low, evil chuckle?

 If I were to be honest with myself, I probably wouldn't have written anything yesterday even if I had been staying in a room full of connected computers and they were all humming at me to get something down. It wasn't until today that my brain started to roll in any direction that wasn't Suzie related. It's funny how easy it is to go into super survival mode compared to what a herculean task it is to come back out. I needed another good nights sleep and a day away from all of it to start heading back to where I should be. So, here I sit fully cognizant that the woman wearing the enormous hoodie standing in the Love & Sex section is in dire need of a good mocking. Not to mention the polygs that just walked in, ready for a good drubbing. It's good to feel like myself again even if I didn't quite realize I was gone. Ahhhh, what a difference a day makes.

Adios Bitchachos!

Finally! A post that has nothing to do with anybody's ruptured appendix or hospitals or doctors. I'm off for a sister's weekend for my(and Janene's)Birthday. So, I bid you adieu for now or until tomorrow anyway. I'm off to the land of, well, not milk and honey exactly. I'm off to the land of geriatrics and (hopefully) sun.

Home Sweet Home

Home. Since last night actually. 10 days and a significant increase in noticeable white hanging on the old noggin. So much for best case scenario. We barely squeaked in under the worst case scenario deadline. To the day. Up yours Universe. You rat bastard. Don't do me any more favors, okay?

 Interestingly enough, 36 hours ago I wasn't entirely convinced that Suz was ready to come home. We were just coming off of the 4th in a string of hideous nights consisting of inexplicable fevers and pain bad enough to make her cry hard. Believe it or not, turns out Suzie is a pretty tough cookie so that is saying something. The drawbacks of hospitalization notwithstanding, you are basically sleeping in a huge safety net. Comforting to a very sleep deprived Mom. Especially when that deprivation is due to the fact that I had spent my nights telling Suzie to squeeze my hand 'till it got better and bullying, nagging, pushing, begging her into just one more turn around the floor because it would eventually(hopefully)make things better. But, she really really wanted to go home. Duh. Also,since her Dr. is actually one of the bigwigs at Primary Children's who happened to be covering for her partner this week, I decided to assume she knew what she was doing and just go with it. So home we came with our I.V. antibiotics, prescription for oxy and our list of all the things to worry about now that she wasn't being watched by someone in the know 24/7. And...Suzie went to sleep last night and nearly slept the night through. Most sleep in one stretch for almost 3 weeks. Tim had to wake her for her 2 o'clock meds and she hasn't done that since the first night out of surgery. She jumped(read-fast crawled)out of bed so as not to miss saying goodbye to Aunt Shelley, Courtney and Jared. She sat upright on the couch for over and hour in order to play HALO with Thomas. She's not magically better obviously. It has taken me half an hour to write the last 2 sentences since I've also been running in and out of her room trying to make her tummy better while she waits for her Ibuprofen to kick in. But. What a difference a day makes. I can't help thinking that maybe Dorothy had it right after all. There really is no place like Home.        

Another prayer

  I'm supposed to be asleep. Fast asleep for a few more hours but, here I am. I wake up every 15 minutes or so when another thing I should be doing pops into my brain and I have to beat it into submission and try to doze back off. I just looked at myself in the bathroom mirror and I still look like a drug-addict coming down from something. Dilated pupils and everything. All this in spite of the fact that I was at the hospital with Suzie all night and ended up about 2 catnaps shy of having stayed up all night. Turns out that the flu I was sure she had last week(and Tim didn't I might add)her surgeon tells me was actually appendicitis that probably ruptured 2 days before I took her to the Doctor. Yet another addition to the Mother's guilt with which I flagellate myself on a weekly basis. Even though they, and by they I mean most of the medical personnel I have come across in the last 2 days, tell me there was no way to know. Ah...Mother's guilt. That special brand of guilt that needs no basis in rationality. It be what it be. Because her appendix was ruptured, the best case scenario is about 4 days in the hospital; worse case,10 days and heaven knows what-even when she comes home. If truth be told, this is the reason I can't seem to stay asleep. Every time I open my eyes and look at the wall I offer up this prayer to the Universe and anybody else that is listening. 

"Please. In spite of the atrocious luck my life seems to attract, just this once let it be best case scenario. Please Please Please be best case scenario. Not because I can't handle it. I can. And not because it is costing a gazillion dollars a day. But. But because that's my baby lying there in that bed. Miserable. Still a little scared. Wishing she were home and that everything didn't hurt so damned much. So; please, just this once. Take whatever favors you might have been storing up for me and use them on her."