For those of you who missed the last post...
I moved the blog over to it's own domain. Come on over. And adjust your links/sidebar/whatev accordingly. Seriously. It's a mess, so far, but it's at least worth a look, right? Hey, you can point and laugh at me!
Okay, I'm a shameless attention whore. I'll admit it. I probably should talk to my counselor about that.
The Blog has moved... Seriously.
I'm moving on...
Well, my blog is moving anyway.
The new address is www.pinkwarmdry.com/blog.
I'm still working some of the kinks out (formatting issues mostly), but I'm pretty excited about how it's looking. All of the archives have been moved over already (Yay, wordpress! LOVE that import button!!) as well as the comments.
Come on over, check it out and let me know what you think. Pretty please?
And Now For Something Completely DIfferent...
Sorry... I really need to get off my Monty Python kick.
That being said... a very minor announcement tomorrow.
Life In a Border Town...
Gets very interesting on Game Day.
Game Day. OSU vs. Michigan. A rivalry that inspires such passion in their fans that one is literally not safe driving a car into Columbus with a Michigan bumper sticker or license plate. It causes countless bar fights, sells a hell of a lot of merchandise for both teams, and can actually divide some families.
Well I guess it doesn't divide every family...
It also causes a certain blogger to do insane things. Like build a bonfire and set her favorite sweatshirt ablaze after a particularly tough loss.
Living just two miles from the Ohio State/Michigan border means that one is just as likely to see an OSU flag flying outside a house as a Michigan flag.
It's really a cool thing, driving around on Game Day. Everyone's decked out in their colors, everyone's talking about the game... From experience I can tell you that tonight the ER's will be slammed... I won't miss that.
I don't know how the game is going to go today (for those of you die hard OSU fans, don't get too cocky, stranger things have happened...), but I have hope.
Go Blue, Baby!
Backboard Tape.
"Where are we heading?" I should already know... because my employer issues us all these very nice pagers. I should be able to pull it out of my pocket, press a button, and be rewarded with some information (accurate or not is another question entirely) about the run.
Like the location.
I should, but I can't because I washed the damn thing again.
Pseudo Dad rolls his eyes at me for the fifth time tonight, "Over to the mall area, code 2 county run. You're really going to have to stop washing your pagers."
I nod and wrap my frozen fingers around a steaming hot cup of coffee. The snow has been steadily coming down for the majority of the day. Now that the sun has gone down the roads are a sheet of ice. For once I'm glad that Pseudo Dad is driving.
He parks the squad in the only available spot. Directly behind the firetruck in the middle of the narrow street. After marking us on location with dispatch and the county, Pseudo Dad steps out. I don't.
"We're you planning on coming?"
"Well, I was hoping I could just sit here and let you do all the work. It's pretty cold out there. And the snow flakes will definitely ruin my hair." I flashed him a toothy grin.
"You're the flake. Let's go."
"You need to get more sleep, Dad. You're no fun." The truth was I was checking out our entrance. There were two sets of steps we were going to have to navigate. In the snow and ice. With a patient on the stretcher.
I hope our patient is light.
"Do you think the fact that we haven't been met by TFD has anything to do with the fact that it's 10 degrees outside and snowing?" I was looking at the four big guys standing just inside the front door of the house.
I bet their fingers aren't numb.
"I think there's a chance you could be correct there. " Pseudo Dad laughed. "Maybe they saw your hair."
"Maybe they saw your lack of it and felt sorry for your frozen melon? Ehhh?"
Like the location.
I should, but I can't because I washed the damn thing again.
Pseudo Dad rolls his eyes at me for the fifth time tonight, "Over to the mall area, code 2 county run. You're really going to have to stop washing your pagers."
I nod and wrap my frozen fingers around a steaming hot cup of coffee. The snow has been steadily coming down for the majority of the day. Now that the sun has gone down the roads are a sheet of ice. For once I'm glad that Pseudo Dad is driving.
He parks the squad in the only available spot. Directly behind the firetruck in the middle of the narrow street. After marking us on location with dispatch and the county, Pseudo Dad steps out. I don't.
"We're you planning on coming?"
"Well, I was hoping I could just sit here and let you do all the work. It's pretty cold out there. And the snow flakes will definitely ruin my hair." I flashed him a toothy grin.
"You're the flake. Let's go."
"You need to get more sleep, Dad. You're no fun." The truth was I was checking out our entrance. There were two sets of steps we were going to have to navigate. In the snow and ice. With a patient on the stretcher.
I hope our patient is light.
"Do you think the fact that we haven't been met by TFD has anything to do with the fact that it's 10 degrees outside and snowing?" I was looking at the four big guys standing just inside the front door of the house.
I bet their fingers aren't numb.
"I think there's a chance you could be correct there. " Pseudo Dad laughed. "Maybe they saw your hair."
"Maybe they saw your lack of it and felt sorry for your frozen melon? Ehhh?"
**********
The small living room was standing room only, and even that was at a premium. Four from TFD, the patient, and five members of the patients family. Everyone was talking at once. That combined with the large LCD tv blaring an episode of Cops and it was impossible to figure out what was going on.
I pulled the first Medic I came across aside. "Hey, I'm Epi from Little Private Service... What's going on?"
"She fell on the steps outside and twisted her ankle. They're arguing over where to take her. She's refusing an ice pack or a splint." He looked more than a little frustrated with the situation.
"OHHHHHH LAWDY! My whole leg is hurtin'... Owwwwww Lawdy Lawdy!" Enter our patient. 315 pounds of quivering drama.
I stepped forward while Pseudo Dad dropped the stretcher to the floor. "Hello Ma'am, I'm Epi with Little Private Service. Can you tell me what's going on tonight?"
"I was heading out to take my Grandbabies to McDonalds for dinner... Oh Lawdy it hurts..." She was holding a stuffed animal, which for God knows why struck me as odd. It was a Winnie the Pooh for those truly interested.
"Which leg is it?" I had to ask because I could see both ankles, and they were both edematous. I couldn't see any discoloration... Everything looked normal. The truth was I had no idea which limb was supposed to be injured.
"It's the left one... Lawdy Lawdy Lawdy..."
I checked her PMS, which was all normal. Being someone who's broken her left ankle twice and twisted it more times than she can count, I can sympathize... Of course I've never called for an ambulance for it, but then again I don't weigh what she does.
"Okay, well we'll certainly take you to the ER if that's what you want... Is there a reason you don't want at least an ice pack on it?"
"Oh Jesus it hurts too much for ice... I need some percocets or something... Oh JESUS it hurts..." She was fanning herself with a church bulletin.
Perfect. She wants Percocet. Fantastic.
I pulled the first Medic I came across aside. "Hey, I'm Epi from Little Private Service... What's going on?"
"She fell on the steps outside and twisted her ankle. They're arguing over where to take her. She's refusing an ice pack or a splint." He looked more than a little frustrated with the situation.
"OHHHHHH LAWDY! My whole leg is hurtin'... Owwwwww Lawdy Lawdy!" Enter our patient. 315 pounds of quivering drama.
I stepped forward while Pseudo Dad dropped the stretcher to the floor. "Hello Ma'am, I'm Epi with Little Private Service. Can you tell me what's going on tonight?"
"I was heading out to take my Grandbabies to McDonalds for dinner... Oh Lawdy it hurts..." She was holding a stuffed animal, which for God knows why struck me as odd. It was a Winnie the Pooh for those truly interested.
"Which leg is it?" I had to ask because I could see both ankles, and they were both edematous. I couldn't see any discoloration... Everything looked normal. The truth was I had no idea which limb was supposed to be injured.
"It's the left one... Lawdy Lawdy Lawdy..."
I checked her PMS, which was all normal. Being someone who's broken her left ankle twice and twisted it more times than she can count, I can sympathize... Of course I've never called for an ambulance for it, but then again I don't weigh what she does.
"Okay, well we'll certainly take you to the ER if that's what you want... Is there a reason you don't want at least an ice pack on it?"
"Oh Jesus it hurts too much for ice... I need some percocets or something... Oh JESUS it hurts..." She was fanning herself with a church bulletin.
Perfect. She wants Percocet. Fantastic.
**********
We managed to convince her to go to the closest hospital, a five minute transport. Her family argued that this was unacceptable as her doctor was at Inner City ER. What they didn't realize was that Physicians at Inner City ER also practice at The Closet ER. One of the benefits of belonging to that particular health system.
Our patient, for the record, didn't care where she went. She just wanted pain relief. Relief we weren't going to be able to provide her with, but at least she only had a five minute bumpy ambulance ride ahead of her. Inner city ER was at least three times that.
With our patient packaged on the stretcher we made our way outside. I took the foot end of the cot, as customary when working with Pseudo Dad. We had an extra Firefighter to help me. Pseudo Dad claimed he didn't need any help.
The first set of steps (four in total) went fine. 315 pounds wasn't even enough to justify a bari cot.
The second set of steps however...
I don't know if it was my frozen fingers on a metal cot, or ice under my boots, or the EMS Gods hitting that smite button, but I lost my footing and in an attempt to right myself, managed to land directly on my ass.
*A collective gasp is heard from the tiny bunch of Firefighters braving the snow*
I jump to my feet instantly and rejoin the firefighter, grateful that my Pseudo Dad didn't lose his grip. "I'm fine... sorry about that..." I stammer. My face is a furious shade of crimson.
Jesus, how could I let that happen? Seriously, Epi... You could have dropped your patient...
Thank God I had that Toledo Firefighter there lifting with me, or God only knows what would have happened.
While we were loading the patient into the back of the truck I heard a whistle and a comment about "pink". I didn't think much of it at that point.
The ride to the ER/ED/EC was uneventful. Although I did manage to convince her to allow me to ice her ankle. A tiny victory for me.
Our patient, for the record, didn't care where she went. She just wanted pain relief. Relief we weren't going to be able to provide her with, but at least she only had a five minute bumpy ambulance ride ahead of her. Inner city ER was at least three times that.
With our patient packaged on the stretcher we made our way outside. I took the foot end of the cot, as customary when working with Pseudo Dad. We had an extra Firefighter to help me. Pseudo Dad claimed he didn't need any help.
The first set of steps (four in total) went fine. 315 pounds wasn't even enough to justify a bari cot.
The second set of steps however...
I don't know if it was my frozen fingers on a metal cot, or ice under my boots, or the EMS Gods hitting that smite button, but I lost my footing and in an attempt to right myself, managed to land directly on my ass.
*A collective gasp is heard from the tiny bunch of Firefighters braving the snow*
I jump to my feet instantly and rejoin the firefighter, grateful that my Pseudo Dad didn't lose his grip. "I'm fine... sorry about that..." I stammer. My face is a furious shade of crimson.
Jesus, how could I let that happen? Seriously, Epi... You could have dropped your patient...
Thank God I had that Toledo Firefighter there lifting with me, or God only knows what would have happened.
While we were loading the patient into the back of the truck I heard a whistle and a comment about "pink". I didn't think much of it at that point.
The ride to the ER/ED/EC was uneventful. Although I did manage to convince her to allow me to ice her ankle. A tiny victory for me.
**********
I was sitting in the EMS room completing my report when Pseudo Dad appeared. He was in the process of grabbing a Diet Pepsi from the fridge when he paused. "Ohhhhhhhh..... Hahahahahhahahahahaha *pause to breathe* HAHAHAHAHAH" He was doubled over, he was laughing so hard.
I found myself completely confused. And a little annoyed. "WHAT? What's so effing funny?"
He wiped tears from his eyes, "I hope you packed an extra pair of pants... Because the ones you have on have seen better days."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Yes, I'm truly that clueless. Clearly that's what makes me the source of entertainment for my partners.
"I'm surprised you didn't notice the draft..." He set the can down and wiped his eyes with a tissue.
Yep. I ripped a pair of pants.
I destroyed them, in fact. And no, I didn't have an extra pair with me. And wouldn't you know it, Dispatch had two runs waiting for us. No time to run home (25 minute drive) to change.
The solution... Backboard tape.
I did two more runs that night with an eight inch long strip of backboard tape over my backside.
The moral of the story is... Make sure you pack an extra pair of pants. Or watch where you step.
Grace, thy name is Epi.
I found myself completely confused. And a little annoyed. "WHAT? What's so effing funny?"
He wiped tears from his eyes, "I hope you packed an extra pair of pants... Because the ones you have on have seen better days."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Yes, I'm truly that clueless. Clearly that's what makes me the source of entertainment for my partners.
"I'm surprised you didn't notice the draft..." He set the can down and wiped his eyes with a tissue.
**********
Yep. I ripped a pair of pants.
I destroyed them, in fact. And no, I didn't have an extra pair with me. And wouldn't you know it, Dispatch had two runs waiting for us. No time to run home (25 minute drive) to change.
The solution... Backboard tape.
I did two more runs that night with an eight inch long strip of backboard tape over my backside.
The moral of the story is... Make sure you pack an extra pair of pants. Or watch where you step.
Grace, thy name is Epi.
Thank you, Braden...
Today...
I went to court. And emerged still owning everything I went in with. Yay for proper documentation.
I convinced my Son that his handwriting really was a little subpar on his homework assignment.
I did a photo shoot and didn't second guess myself.
My daughter actually took a nap. No small fete there.
I got to sleep in.
I passed a test that I never dreamed I'd pass. (Thanks, JB, AD, and MM!)
Why do I still feel like I've lost my best friend?
Be safe out there.
Tonights Grey Post...
Oh...My God.
They're doing a fecal transplant on Grey's to treat C Diff.
That's both righteous and icky.
I'm going to try to forget about the fact that Izzie is apparently suffering from a brain tumor and is having sex with Dead Denny (STILL HAWT) and the first year idiots are performing surgery on each other.
My last Extreme Makover Post... I promise!
This past Sunday I was invited to attend a party for the volunteers and their families.
I wasn't sure if I really wanted to go to be honest... I've been in a nasty funk lately that I've been trying to shake. The chance to meet up with some of the amazing people I volunteered with was too much of a draw.
Wow. Do they ever know how to put on a party.
Twin spotlights greeted us at the front door. The kids instantly lost their minds.
Then they saw the balloons. FC wasn't as excited as the little one was, but he was itching for one of those Bob The Builder construction hats.
There were blue shirts... Everywhere. I wore mine as well, over my underarmor... Hey, it was cold out. Really really cold.
The room was quickly filling up... All to see the Frisch family. Their kids were everywhere (well, there's a ton of them...), they were very gracious. I caught a glimpse of Aaron walking Jackie through the crowd. He had her arm the entire time. It made me smile to see that kind of love between a married couple.
We didn't stay for the show itself (it was getting a little late for the kids)...
She Who Rules refused to be photographed after having a very Diva moment. FC on the other hand was willing to allow me to snap one of him. He was bored out of his mind, but he kept quiet about it in exchange for popcorn and his gameboy.
In the end, a very tired and cranky Mom dragged her equally tired and cranky (and in FC's case, bored) children back to the car.
I did manage to reconnect with some friends, and that was nice. And it did make me feel good to see the recognition given to those who really built that house. I didn't swing a hammer or paint a wall, but there were hundreds who did. It was nice to see them get some attention.
Bravo to the organizers, ya'll did good.
Love and Everything After... Part IV
Yeah. He didn't cut the cord. Not the end of the world.
At least my little guy was okay. That's all that truly mattered. He was perfect. And gorgeous. Born with a full head of hair. Just like his Momma.
My BP was back to it's norm (110/80-ish), so I was free to sleep on my back or right side. I made my way through preeclampsia with nary a lasting scratch.
That being said, the following ten plus days were hell. I had a horrible sinus infection, and getting adjusted to your first born's sleep schedule does not contribute to a sane or happy Mom. Particularly when she's sick on top of it.
And then the car fell on him.
Mr. Epi. Not the Baby. Obviously.
I was sitting at the table in the kitchen crying into my hands out of sheer exhaustion when I heard Mr. Epi stomping up the back stairs. "EPIIIIIII....EPI Uhm..... I need you."
I looked up as he entered the back door. He was covered in blood. He looked like an extra out of a horror movie.
I sat there, slackjawed. For half a second or so. Then I flipped out.
"OhmyGodohmygodohmygodOHMYGOD... What the hell happened to you? I grabbed him and dragged him towards the sink. There was blood everywhere.
"The car fell... Jackstand...Oh Jesus..." Remember me telling you that he wasn't a fan of blood? He really isn't. He felt ill. I grabbed a kitchen towel from the drawer and put it to his head, walked him to the couch in the living room and forced him to lay down.
FC was sleeping in the swing, blissfully unaware of the chaos.
"You need to go to the hospital. Should I call 911?" I wasn't an EMT yet, I didn't know what the hell to do. With the knowledge I have now he would have gone by EMS. Back then I didn't know what the hell to do.
There is just so much blood.
Mr. Epi decided to stop blowing blood everywhere and speak up. "You are not calling 911. Call your Aunt."
"Well I can drive you..."
"No, you can't. Your car has no oil in it, and it's blocking my truck in." Blood was soaking through the towel on his head.
I called my Aunt, who came to pick us all up. She kept Baby FC, and I drove Mr. Epi to the ER.
He ended up with several stitches, but no skull fracture, thank God.
**********
Spring changed into Summer...Winter changed into Spring.
Summer changed back into Winter...
Oh?
...and Winter gave Spring and Summer a miss and went straight on into Autumn.
And that is my last Holy Grail quote. I promise.
**********
Life in the Duplex was just fine, thank you very much... FC was walking, and talking (and talking some more).
Mr. Epi and I were getting along well enough. He did his thing and I did mine. We complimented each other. At least that's what I thought...
The fact was I was fooling myself. Just two years into our marriage and we were basically roommates. Roommates who slept in the same bed. Roommates who got along fantastically. We never fought. We just lived our lives, did sweet things for each other on occasion, and raised our precious Son. Well, I raised him. Mr. Epi was quickly losing interest in him.
I didn't get it. How do you lose interest in your SON?
I was changing the diapers. I was waking up with him. I was playing with him all day. I was feeding him, and kissing his ouchies. That's what a Parent does, right?
Apparently Mr. Epi had issues of his own. Issues I didn't completely understand yet. (Issues I'm not planning on divulging, for the record.)
Mr. Epi and I were getting along well enough. He did his thing and I did mine. We complimented each other. At least that's what I thought...
The fact was I was fooling myself. Just two years into our marriage and we were basically roommates. Roommates who slept in the same bed. Roommates who got along fantastically. We never fought. We just lived our lives, did sweet things for each other on occasion, and raised our precious Son. Well, I raised him. Mr. Epi was quickly losing interest in him.
I didn't get it. How do you lose interest in your SON?
I was changing the diapers. I was waking up with him. I was playing with him all day. I was feeding him, and kissing his ouchies. That's what a Parent does, right?
Apparently Mr. Epi had issues of his own. Issues I didn't completely understand yet. (Issues I'm not planning on divulging, for the record.)
**********
McHottie...
Has decided to start a blog of his own.
It's completely unlike mine. And that's okay. He's not me.
It's not an EMS Blog. It's not a photography blog. It's not a blog on kids...
I'm not ready to pimp it yet... Mostly because it might scare a few of my readers... Hell, knowing him it's probably going to scare me at times...
He's blatantly honest. He might be crass at times. But he knows what he speaks of. Trust me.
And as much as EVERY FIBER OF MY VERY BEING says "Don't do it, Epi..." I can't help it. I can guarantee that for those who can handle it... It's going to be a great read.
Coming soon... Knowing him it'll be very soon.
Another installment up shortly....
Just because Medic Three has said I'm not allowed to do anything until I post again.
Sheesh.
In the meantime, here's a pic of my little girl.
Again, my cup runneth over Baby Girl.
Stolen Meme...
Stolen from Why Are You Stalking Me, who stole it from Sunday Stealing (Gasp! A blog dedicated to stealing meme's? LOVE IT.) I couldn't agree with her more. I love meme's for the distractions...
The Woman’s Work 45 Meme1. Do you like blue cheese salad dressing? I do, actually.
2. Favorite late night snack? I don't usually snack at night, but I do sneak some trail mix on occasion.
3. Do you own a gun? Rumor has it Santa's bring me one :)
4. What’s your favorite drink at Starbucks or other specialty coffee shop? I'm a boring girl. I like the straight up coffee. Cream and sugar.
5. Do you get nervous before doctor appointments? Doctor appointments? Gawd No. The Dentist is another thing altogether.
6. What do you think of hot dogs? Hebrew National Hot Dogs rock my little world. With Packo's sauce.
7. Favorite Christmas song? O Holy Night.
8. What do you prefer to drink in the morning? Coffee please?
9. Can you do push-ups? I can do a couple.
10. What’s your favorite piece of jewelry? I have a necklace with a pendant that has three diamonds in it. It was a gift from Mr. Epi a few years ago for Valentine's Day.
11. Favorite hobby? Photography, blogging and scrapbooking.
12. Do you have A.D.D.? Probably. I was talking to a Doc about it a few months -- That dog has a puffy tail!
13. What’s one trait that you hate about yourself? Indecision. No, my lack of self confidence... No, indecision. Hell, I don't know.
14. The last disease you contracted? Caught the creeping crud from my kids over two weeks ago. I'm still suffering from it.
15. Name 3 thoughts at this exact moment. I hate Ohio Lottery commercials. JT from Y&R is a very cute boy. Owwww.
16. Name 3 drinks you regularly drink? Diet Pepsi, ice water, coffee.
17. Current worry right now? Too many to name one.
18. Current hate right now? I'm freezing. I hate cold weather.
19. Favorite place to be? Wherever my babies are. Unless they're screaming at each other. In that case, a deserted island down near the bahamas.
20. How did you ring in the New Year? Party at my Brother's house.
21. Like to travel? Love it.
22. Name three people who will complete Sunday Stealing this week: Hrm. Bernice... Ambulance Mommy perhaps? I dont know... If you want to play, play :)
23. Do you own slippers? Yes, and I even know the location of one of them. The other is hanging out with the missing socks.
24. What color shirt are you wearing? Grey.
25. Do you like sleeping on satin sheets? I'm more of a fan of flannel this time of year.
26. Can you whistle? Yes.
27. Favorite singer/band? I don’t have a favorite... Hannah Montana? (I'm kidding, btw.)
28. Could you ever make it 39 days on the show Survivor? I'm a Girl Scout... Of course I could.
29. What songs do you sing in the shower? I've had that Coldplay song in my head today... Viva la Vida.
30. Favorite girl’s names? Abby, Grace, Erin -- *shrug* I dont know. Quit making me think.
31. Favorite boy’s name? Seriously, more thinking? Henry, Nicholas, Noah.
32. What’s in your pocket right now? I'm wearing scrub bottoms that don't have pockets. :)
33. Last thing that made you laugh? My daughter. "Aww Mommy, We'll call the ammalance!"
34. Like your job? HAHAHAHAHAH.
36. Do you love where you live? It has it's days. I'd much rather be south of here... Or out west.
37. How many TVs do you have in your house? Three.
38. Who is your loudest friend? Sue. Hands down.
39. Do you drive the speed limit or speed? Depends on the circumstances. I do believe I broke the land speed record driving up US 23 last year.
40. Does someone have a crush on you? Not that I know of.
41. What is your favorite book? I'm very up close and personal with my EKG book right now.
42. What is your favorite candy? Can't really have the candy anymore... But a piece of a kit kat may pass my lips on occasion.
43. Favorite Sports Team? The Packers and the Jets.
44. What were you doing 12 AM last night? Fixin' to crash.
45. What was the first thing you thought of when you woke up today? God I'm old.
So... once again, I'm not tagging anyone specifically, but if you do play let me know so I can see your answers...
One more thing that's pissed me off today.
This was in my inbox tonight:
From: "Sgt. Jarvis Reeves"
To:undisclosed-recipients
Hello Pal,
I hope my email meet you well. I am in need of your assistance. My name is Sgt. Jarvis Reeves. I am an American soldier serving in the 1st Armored Division in Iraq, we have just been posted out of Iraq and to return in a short while. My colleague and I need your help to transfer out the sum of Twenty Five Mllion United State Dollars ($25 MUSD). If you are interesting I will finish you with more details.
As awair your response.
Email:sgt-jr@hotmail.com
Yours,
Sgt. Jarvis Reeves
God Bless America!!
**********
I can only imagine where it came from (It smacks of Nigeria)... But seriously?
An American Soldier? You're going to impersonate an American SOLDIER? Rot in hell. Seriously.
An American Soldier? You're going to impersonate an American SOLDIER? Rot in hell. Seriously.
Epi's not happy.
Here's what pissed me off today. Well, technically the last two days.
If you have sensitive ears, you might want to skip this post.
Almost getting run off the fucking expressway by a former Lieutenant driving with their lights and siren OFF. You psychotic BITCH. Had I known who was working dispatch at the time I would have called them immediately.
Standing behind a woman in line at the carryout using her Foodstamp card to buy junkfood (and buying a carton of cigarettes with cash). I barely had enough money in my pocket for a half gallon of milk. I don't get food stamps or government assistance of any kind. I don't even have health insurance. (You know, what you consider Medicaid to be.) I noticed that you drive a Honda Accord with spinners. Screw you bitch.
The Mother in the waiting room at the Dentist's office who dared to "Shush" my son. He wasn't loud, but he was crying. He has a reaction to versed that makes him a little emotional. You're lucky that I was focused on him or I would have stomped a bootprint in your face.
(To McHottie, if you're reading this, I'm sorry that I missed dinner. I swear that it couldn't be avoided. See the statement about my little boy.)
To the friend who dared to ask me "What the HELL is wrong with you lately? Why are you such a recluse?" and then suffered the wrath of Epi, my deepest apologies. I know you're worried. And I'm sorry. I promise that I'll be back to normal soon. I promise.
To the asshole two people in front of me who held up the the Rite Aid (it should make the news if you're in the Toledo area), congratulations. You win the "Miserable Bastard of the Day" award. Enjoy the three converter boxes and 200 bucks you scored. I hope you manage to buy a bad batch of meth with it.
And then there's me. I've been letting my emotions run my life for entirely too long. It's time to use my head.
Love and Everything After Pt. III
(Added a pic to the end...-Epi)
My BP was so high. That on it's own isn't necessarily an emergency...
Except I was very pregnant, and sick. This combination was enough to freak out my PCP and was quickly making me just as nervous.
I did what I promised my Doctor I'd do. I drove directly to the local hospital where my OB doc was going to induce me. I might have paused first to call Mr. Epi, who I couldn't get a hold of, and my Mom.
"Mom, Dr. Leslie is saying that I need to go to the hospital. My Blood pressure's up and that's bad stuff for the little one.... Can you come up there?" I did my best to not allow the terror I was feeling to come out over the phone. It was difficult, I tend to wear my emotions on my sleeve.
It didn't take her long to catch on. The woman with the fiercest work ethic I have ever come across promised me that she would leave work immediately and meet me at the local hospital.
When I arrived in the ER/EC/ED my mother wasn't there yet. It was minutes before I was relocated to the the Labor and Delivery floor. The ER couldn't get rid of me quick enough. And that was okay with me.
I was quickly settled into my room, the same room I'd labor, deliver and recover in. It was beautiful, not at all like the sterile white hospital rooms I've stayed in in the past. This room had wood floors, Monet prints and warm colors.
And a fold out couch, mini fridge, cd player and very comfortable rocking chair that I never got to sit in.
I was too scared to enjoy any of it.
I was alone, and in typical fashion I had a million thoughts running through my head.
Is Baby FC going to be okay? Am I going to end up having seizures? What do seizures feel like? Where is my husband? What if he doesn't make it here in time. Will the baby really be okay? I want my Mom. Where in the HELL is my HUSBAND??? God, I hope he wasn't in a car accident... Jesus, what if he was in an accident and he's out there hurt and...
"Epi? You doing okay there honey?"
I jumped out of my skin. "EEEEEK! Where did you come from?" The nurse had succeeded in simultaneously interrupting my mini mental rant and scaring the crap out of me.
"I'm so sorry I startled you, I need to start an IV and draw some blood." She set her supplies down on the table next to me and took my hand. "Your Mother and Husband will be here soon, Epi. You just hang in there."
Four attempts later (Uhm, OW?) I had the securest IV EVER. It wasn't her fault, I have those spindly rolling veins. They look good until you try to stick me. Made me a human pincusion in Medic School, believe me. Oh yeah. Good times.
Sorry, I'm babbling.
So the IV was patent and the magnesium drip was started. If you haven't had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of magnesium that's probably for the best. Trust me on this one.
My Mom arrived a bit later. She sat at the side of my bed holding my hand while I tried to sleep. I was scared for my baby, sweating like a hooker in church, feeling horrible, and I was getting this headache...
Preeclampsia's a bitch folks.
**********
Shortly after six pm Mr. Epi arrived, breathless and sweaty and smelling like someone who should really be taking a shower and going to bed after an extremely long day at work. He didn't understand what was happening, he was scared, and tired, and irritable.
I needed him there. I didn't want to spend the night in that hospital with the possibility of delivering... alone. I had no idea when they were planning on starting the pitocin, and I had already sent my Mom home for the night...
Rather than spending the night snapping back and forth (and having to smell his funky butt), I sent him home. He didn't protest. I remember wishing that he would have. He was exhausted and really needed to get some sleep. And so did I. It was for the best. And I could call him if I really needed him of course.
What I can only describe as the worst headache anyone has EVER had set in about an hour later. Just about the same time that a 14-year-old girl was pushing her baby out with no epidural right across the hall. Naturally.
"SOOOOMEONE KILLLL MEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!! GOOOOOOOOOD IT HUUUUURRRRTTTTSSSSS!!!!" She was screaming bloody murder.
I felt bad for her, really. But this headache... It was blindingly painful. When I was in High School I was treated for migraines. I have to say this was worse than a migraine. I remember wanting to duct tape her mouth.
Six hours later I still had it. I was laying in bed on my left side in tears when the nurse came in to check on me.
"How are you holding up there, Epi? Ohhhh Honey, what's wrong... are you okay?" She was a Saint, my nurse that night.
*Sob* "My head..." *Sob* "It's excruciating...." *SOB* "I can't see straight it hurts so badly..." *long whimpering* I was a hot mess at that point. Literally. The mag made my body feel like it was on fire.
That nurse (I do remember her name, even close to nine years later. Kelly, wherever you are, you're a SAINT!) did something that to this day ranks as one of the three sweetest things another person has ever done for me.
She gave me a head rub. Kelly rubbed my head for almost an hour.
Had I not already had a name picked out for my son, he would have been named Kelly.
**********
The following morning I woke up to Mr. Epi sitting at my bedside. His face lit up when he saw I was awake. "Good morning, Gorgeous. How was your night?" He looked much better than he had the night before.
"I survived. Barely," I mumbled, wiping the sleep from my eyes.
"I brought your body pillow." He produced the four foot long pillow.
"Oh God, thank you. The Nurse said they're going to up the pitocin at eight. Looks like it's going to be a long day." I propped myself up in the bed and pulled my tray towards me. Breakfast would consist of ice chips. Yay.
I looked longingly at Mr. Epi's orange juice. McDonalds. I hated him instantly. How dare he enter my room with orange juice.
Two hours later and I still wasn't having contractions. They decided to increase my Pitocin yet again in order to kick start some serious contractions.
That's when the real fun started. The pitocin kicked in, and just about as quickly I found myself in a world of pain.
Pitocin, like Preeclampsia, is a bitch.
Within an hour the contractions started. I did okay initially. I actually watched Martha Stewart and The Rock from WWE bake Valentines Day cookies for his wife. It was a nice distraction. About the time that they started to get a little painful, Mr. Epi's pager went off.
Perfect effing timing.
"ARE YOU SERIOUS? You're STILL on call?" I was chewing on ice chips, sweating, and mad as hell at everyone.
"I couldn't get anyone to cover... It's okay, I'll be back in an hour." He was running for the door.
"I HOPE I DON'T DELIVER YOUR SON BEFORE THEN!!!!" I was yelling after him. I was pissed. Highly.
"I survived. Barely," I mumbled, wiping the sleep from my eyes.
"I brought your body pillow." He produced the four foot long pillow.
"Oh God, thank you. The Nurse said they're going to up the pitocin at eight. Looks like it's going to be a long day." I propped myself up in the bed and pulled my tray towards me. Breakfast would consist of ice chips. Yay.
I looked longingly at Mr. Epi's orange juice. McDonalds. I hated him instantly. How dare he enter my room with orange juice.
**********
Two hours later and I still wasn't having contractions. They decided to increase my Pitocin yet again in order to kick start some serious contractions.
That's when the real fun started. The pitocin kicked in, and just about as quickly I found myself in a world of pain.
Pitocin, like Preeclampsia, is a bitch.
Within an hour the contractions started. I did okay initially. I actually watched Martha Stewart and The Rock from WWE bake Valentines Day cookies for his wife. It was a nice distraction. About the time that they started to get a little painful, Mr. Epi's pager went off.
Perfect effing timing.
"ARE YOU SERIOUS? You're STILL on call?" I was chewing on ice chips, sweating, and mad as hell at everyone.
"I couldn't get anyone to cover... It's okay, I'll be back in an hour." He was running for the door.
"I HOPE I DON'T DELIVER YOUR SON BEFORE THEN!!!!" I was yelling after him. I was pissed. Highly.
**********
Mr. Epi made it back with two hours to spare. When he saw the state I was in... Well hell, I would have run for the nearest exit.
Three attempts at an epidural with no success.
Nubain given, resulting in me puking green jello for a good two minutes.
Basically, a lot of bitching and whining on my part. But hey, when you're in labor you're allowed to do that, right?
RIGHT????
Okay, I'm sorry.
At about 4:56pm on February 10th, 2000 , I delivered FC. 7lbs. 8oz. 21 inches long. My life would be forever changed.
Mr. Epi was asked if he would like to cut the cord. He had to sit down to think about it. My OB cut the cord while Mr. Epi was fanned by my Mom. He's never been a fan of blood.
Three attempts at an epidural with no success.
Nubain given, resulting in me puking green jello for a good two minutes.
Basically, a lot of bitching and whining on my part. But hey, when you're in labor you're allowed to do that, right?
RIGHT????
Okay, I'm sorry.
At about 4:56pm on February 10th, 2000 , I delivered FC. 7lbs. 8oz. 21 inches long. My life would be forever changed.
Mr. Epi was asked if he would like to cut the cord. He had to sit down to think about it. My OB cut the cord while Mr. Epi was fanned by my Mom. He's never been a fan of blood.**********
For those of you still reading, I promise another installment here shortly.
Hey Derek... I think I have you beat.
Hey Derek....
I'm a geek. Seriously.
Or is it Nerd... I'm not sure.
Tagged by Retired and Crazy
Retired and Crazy tagged me to do what I can only call the 7's Meme. How could I not play along?
So, the rules are... (I think...)
Divulge 7 things I plan to do before I die
7 things I do now,
7 things I can’t do,
7 things that attract me to the opposite sex
7 things I say most often
7 celebrities I admire
and 6 (make that seven to satisfy the OCD side of me - Epi) “interesting” things about myself.
7 things I plan to do before I die:
1. Finish Medic School.
2. Visit Paris.
3. Visit Hoover Dam and not cry like a three year old. (Cut me some slack, I was a three year old, sitting on top of her Daddy's shoulders.)
4. Visit Australia.
5. Have a photograph published somewhere other than the engagement/wedding page of the newspaper.
6. Conquer my fear of flying.
7. Learn how to be completely honest with myself.
7 things I do now:
1. I procrastinate.
2. I second guess myself constantly.
3. I curse like a pissed off Marine.
4. I love my kids more than life itself.
5. I worry too much.
6. I daydream.
7. I'm more likely to cry when I'm tired.
7 things I can't do:
1. I can't tolerate stupidity.
2. I can't jump out of bed in the morning.
3. I can't remember what my Grandpa's hands looked like. He died close to twenty years ago.
4. I can't speak squeeze the trigger of anything larger than a .22 without jumping (just a little).
5. I can't tell them everything, not yet.
6. I can't bring myself to eat liver. Or brussel sprouts. I have recently gotten over my aversion to oysters however.
7. I can't tie my shoes the way that 90% of the public does. I subscribe to the double bunny ears method.
7 things that attract me to the opposite sex:
1. How he carries himself.
2. How he treats those around him.
3. His laugh.
4. His eyes.
5. His height. (Hey, I'm 6'1"... Some things cannot be helped!)
6. His hands.
7. His intelligence.
7 things I say most often:
1. Holy Hell.
2. Promise?
3. The angels will cry for you.
4. Sometime's life isn't fair.
5. Because I'm your MOTHER.
6. SHR, don't put that in your mouth, that's icky.
7. Frickin' (With an occasional slip up resulting in the "F-bomb")
7 celebrities I admire:
I really don't admire many celebrities... But I'll try to play.
1. Ronald Reagan.
2. Patrick Dempsey. I admire his face anyway :)
3. Jefferey Dean Morgan. For the same reason as number two.
I can't come up with anyone else really...
7 interesting things about myself: (Interesting, in my vocabulary, occasionally means odd.)
1. I have a seriously irrational fear of flying.
2. I went to five (yes FIVE) New Kids on The Block concerts. I don't know if that's interesting, or scary)
3. I won a trivia contest with the award of a years tuition at the local Community College. They gave me a big check and everything :)
4. I used to know how to play guitar... I wish I would have stuck with it.
5. I was in the Army, and I LOVED D&C.
6. I've been stuck on a rollercoaster close to 30 times. (The perils of working at an amusement park!)
7. I yawn when I'm nervous. It's one of those odd things about me :)
I won't tag anyone, but if you do plan on playing along, let me know in comments.
USAF Museum, Pt. II
(Edited more than few times to update those aircraft I couldn't identify... Thanks readers :))
My first bit of advice for anyone planning on visiting the museum would be to arrive early.
We didn't. As a result we weren't able to visit the R&D and Presidential hangars over at the base. (You now have to catch a ride on a bus to visit them, the last time we visited you were able to drive over on your own. Guess that went out the window with 9/11)
One more thing. Wear comfortable shoes.
The Modern Flight Gallery was beckoning us with stories from the Korean War (which my Grandfather proudly served in), and the Vietnam War (or Conflict if you prefer).
Betty Jo here is an F-82B Twin Mustang. It flew from Hawaii to New York, the longest non-stop flight ever by a prop fighter.
Another one that I can't identify. I'm sure that I snapped this strictly because anything with Dopey the Dwarf painted on the side of it is automatically cool. Or it could be because it reminds me of how so many ambulance services are run. Flip a coin.
(Okay, so it's a B-29 Stratofortress. Thank you to Billy Sparks!)
F-22A Raptor. She's a sexy one. One who really doesn't belong in this hangar, but I'm guessing that space is kind of scarce right now and this was the only place they had to plop her down.
McHottie giving us a lesson on two-dimensional thrust vectoring nozzles. He's a walking encyclopedia of aircraft knowledge.
I don't think that we ever figured out what this thing was... It sure looked cool though. It's hanging above the F-22, so I'm guessing it's another one of those aircraft that they couldn't find room for in the proper gallery.(Edited once again to add: "The aircraft hanging above the F-22 Raptor appears to be a Boeing Bird of Prey". -- Terenzio Tirta Thanks Terenzio. :)
SA-2 Surface to Air Missle. Probably not something you'd want to see in your rearview mirror.
My baby brother the last time we visited... Just about 10 years ago. Look at that baby face. :) I believe he's in the F-4 cockpit there.
And for comparison. Still with the baby face. We waited in line for a few minutes for this picture... Behind about twenty Boy Scouts. We have no shame when it comes to the chance to sit in a piece of history.They had some pretty awesome Sikorsky's in there as well. Unfortunately my lack of tripod (oops, left it by the back door!) bit me in the butt. Not one of my shots turned out.
Onward to the Coldwar Gallery.
"McHottie, I'm beginning to think that this B-1 you speak of doesn't exist... Are you sure it's not a figment of your imagination?" He's talked about his time spent as a B-1 Crew Chief for as long as I've known him. I knew how excited he was to show us his baby. I just can't pass up the opportunity to screw with him.He elbows me and simply points. "Right there, Epi."
You're right, McHottie. She's beautiful. The lines... Awesome. He spent a good half hour visiting with his B-1, I spent half an hour admiring how beautiful she is.
Not a good place to be standing when they fire that bad boy up. Clearly.
"Epi, check this out." McHottie is pointing up above the B-1
"Holy Cow. Consult the Book of Armaments!" *snort* I never pass up an opportunity to quote some Monty Python.
The above is a Cruise Missile, with a range of 2300 miles. Other than I can't remember what I read about it.
It was time to move on, we still had a lot of favorites to see... Mine included. Although I have to admit, I'm definitely a fan of the B-1 particularly now that I've seen it up close.
But not before a little more shooty goodness. Another possibility for my dream ambulance. I'm not sure what caliber it is, but I have a feeling it could effectively clear traffic for me.
Hello Gorgeous.
This is my favorite aircraft, my baby. The F-16A Fighting Falcon. Lightweight, low cost, and pretty damn good at what it does.
And so sexy.Yes, I'm a dork. I make no apologies for it.
F-117A Nighthawk. The first stealth aircraft.
F-... I have no idea. If anyone knows what this is let me know :)(Edited to add: This is the F-102 "Delta Dart", the fighter GWB flew.
A difficult airplane to fly, it killed more than its fair share of complacent pilots. -- Thank you Greybeard, once again!)
Some guy I'm related to in front of the F-15.And finally, Baby Brother's "Eleanor" (If you have never seen Gone In 60 Seconds you may not get the reference, my apologies)...
The SR-71 Blackbird. You have to respect an aircraft that is capable of mach 3. That's over 2,000 mph. Or five miles faster than McHottie's code three driving. This particular SR-71 flew the first operational sortie.
Baby Brother is a huge fan.
He's also a big fan of signs. Hugely enthusiastic about them. Yep. That's him.
And finally, the Convair B-58 Hustler (Thank you, McHottie, I had no idea.) A little googling tells me that this B-58A set three speed records while flying from Los Angeles to New York and back on March 5, 1962. For this effort, the crew received the Bendix and Mackay Trophies for 1962. It was flown to the museum in December 1969. I love google.
Our time was up. The museum closes at four on Saturdays, and we still wanted to hit the gift shop on the way out. We weren't going to be able to hit the Missile and Space Gallery, the R&D and Presidential Hangars were already out (bummer, I love walking through those old Air Force One's...) and the Air Park was out because of the weather.
Still, I'd say that we saw most of what we wanted to see. It was a great way to spend a Saturday afternoon, even with the thousand or so Boy Scouts zipping around. They were very well behaved for the most part.
Thank you, McHottie for playing tour guide. Your insane knowledge of shooty things and aircraft made the experience that much better.
Thank you to my Brother and Sister In Law for providing the vehicle we all piled in to. To my brother, who got to feel my knees in his back for three hours, I'm only a little sorry. :)
Extreme Makeover Home Edition... Live Blog.
(The following would be my ramblings while watching the Extreme Makeover episode tonight, it was filmed about two months ago in my hometown.)
It's on right now. I'm finding myself hugely emotional already.
Oh Paulie. You're right. A hero is somebody who gives hope.
Rib is still rediculously hot. Just saying.
**********
I knew Michael went with them... And I can understand why.
13 kids, Mom and Dad. At Disneyworld. That's hardly a vacation for the parents. :)
13 kids, Mom and Dad. At Disneyworld. That's hardly a vacation for the parents. :)
**********
Toledo Fire Drum and Pipes. Love them.
What they didn't tell you was so many people turned out for the Braveheart march and demo that they had to turn more than half of them away.
EEEK! Boys in turnout gear!!!!
The train room was the only room I didn't get a chance to see.
"I feel like a hero like my dad" *sniffle*
Toledo Fire Drum and Pipes. Love them.
What they didn't tell you was so many people turned out for the Braveheart march and demo that they had to turn more than half of them away.
EEEK! Boys in turnout gear!!!!
**********
She collects angels. I love that.It's surreal to see my hometown on National TV for something other than a riot or a mayor making us look like a bunch of idiots.
And here comes Isoh Impact. Tears.
And here comes Isoh Impact. Tears.
**********
Becky, Lynn, Autumn. I saw you girls!!!
2037. There I am :)
2038. Twice more. Yay :) God I'm so easily amused.
Another little tidbit they didn't share... We screamed "Move that bus" for 45 damn minutes.
Becky, Lynn, Autumn. I saw you girls!!!
2037. There I am :)
2038. Twice more. Yay :) God I'm so easily amused.
Another little tidbit they didn't share... We screamed "Move that bus" for 45 damn minutes.
**********
The train room was the only room I didn't get a chance to see.
"I feel like a hero like my dad" *sniffle*
**********
That is one very green bed.
13 full ride scholarships. Fantastic.
The rain held off just long enough... Welcome home, Frisch Family, welcome home.
13 full ride scholarships. Fantastic.
The rain held off just long enough... Welcome home, Frisch Family, welcome home.
**********
USAF Museum
Yesterday I had the privilege of visiting the USAF Museum.
As a student/huge fan of history, the Military, Aircraft and big shooty things... I was in awe.
This place is huge. 
I did not take this picture, clearly. But it does give you an idea of the size of the complex. It's monstrous. In fact it's the world's largest and oldest military aviation museum. (Photo credit goes to the US Air Force. They said it was okay.)
(Again, photo credit to the USAF. From here on out the photos are all mine, hence their occasional blurriness.)
The lobby is basically a large atrium. Icarus greets you in all of his naked glory. Well, there is that lil leaf in front...
Not so much on the backside. He has the body of a Greek God, wouldn't you say? :)
"Epi?"
"Mmmhmmm..." I'm lost in thought.
"Quit oogling his ass and get moving. We have some ground to cover."
Okay Okay.
We spent a few minutes in a small exhibit dedicated to Military Photographers (I would have loved that job...) The images in that exhibit were stunning. Here's two of my favorites:
The caption reads:
The C-17 Globemaster III from the 14th Airlift Squadron, Charleston Air Force Base, S.C., releases flares over the Atlantic Ocean near Charleston during a training mission in May 2006. The "smoke angel" is caused by a vortex from the engines.
USAF photo by Tech. Sgt. Russel E. Cooley IV
The caption reads:
Staff Sgt. Israel del Toro was wounded during combat action in Afghanistan in December 2005 while supporting Operation Enduring Freedom. U.S. Air Force photo by Tech. Sgt. Cecillio M. Ricardo Jr.
I could have spent an hour or two just looking at the amazing photography. I quickly found myself being dragged towards the main exhibits.
The first hangar we visited was the Early Years Gallery covering the Wright Brothers all the way up to just before World War II.
And the butt chewing.
I snapped this shot just because I truly believe ambulances should be armed with them. Hey, it's just a practice bomb!
An ambulance for that bomb. I believe the last truck I worked in was just about this old.
Next up we had an exhibit about the Holocaust. Extremely moving.
I did not take this picture, clearly. But it does give you an idea of the size of the complex. It's monstrous. In fact it's the world's largest and oldest military aviation museum. (Photo credit goes to the US Air Force. They said it was okay.)
(Again, photo credit to the USAF. From here on out the photos are all mine, hence their occasional blurriness.)
The lobby is basically a large atrium. Icarus greets you in all of his naked glory. Well, there is that lil leaf in front...
Not so much on the backside. He has the body of a Greek God, wouldn't you say? :)"Epi?"
"Mmmhmmm..." I'm lost in thought.
"Quit oogling his ass and get moving. We have some ground to cover."
Okay Okay.
We spent a few minutes in a small exhibit dedicated to Military Photographers (I would have loved that job...) The images in that exhibit were stunning. Here's two of my favorites:
The caption reads:The C-17 Globemaster III from the 14th Airlift Squadron, Charleston Air Force Base, S.C., releases flares over the Atlantic Ocean near Charleston during a training mission in May 2006. The "smoke angel" is caused by a vortex from the engines.
USAF photo by Tech. Sgt. Russel E. Cooley IV
The caption reads:Staff Sgt. Israel del Toro was wounded during combat action in Afghanistan in December 2005 while supporting Operation Enduring Freedom. U.S. Air Force photo by Tech. Sgt. Cecillio M. Ricardo Jr.
I could have spent an hour or two just looking at the amazing photography. I quickly found myself being dragged towards the main exhibits.
The first hangar we visited was the Early Years Gallery covering the Wright Brothers all the way up to just before World War II.
I know absolutely nothing about this particular plane, I just know it was hanging upside down from the ceiling and heading straight for a very large blimp.
Mc Hottie's favorite exhibit. The one where the Airman gets his ass chewed.
Mc Hottie's favorite exhibit. The one where the Airman gets his ass chewed.
And the butt chewing.
I snapped this shot just because I truly believe ambulances should be armed with them. Hey, it's just a practice bomb!
An ambulance for that bomb. I believe the last truck I worked in was just about this old.
I'm Polish, German, Irish and French Canadian, but I grew up in a neighborhood known as the Polish Village in Toledo. My church has Polish Masses every Sunday. I went to a Catholic grade school for nine years that taught us in very graphic detail about the horrors of the Holocaust.
It was a very moving exhibit to go through.
Arbeit Macht Frei means literally "Work makes (one) free". It was a common German phrase posted at the entrance to many nazi concentration camps. That's my baby brother, The Responsible One on the right, McHottie on the left, with my wonderful Sister In Law behind him.
This was a plexiglass case containing an accordian with a story about it being a child's most prized posession. I would have taken more pictures, but I was too busy crying.
This was the jacket of one of the liberators, a Soldier from Dayton, Ohio.I wiped my tears away just long enough to retreat from the Holocaust exhibit and run smack dab into this:
If you know what these banners symbolize you'll know why my tears continued to fall.
They put on the uniform, so that we could continue to enjoy our freedom. Freedom to bitch to our hearts content on our blogs. Freedom to practice and worship whatever faith we choose. Freedom. As a former Army girl, the ex girlfriend (and very good friend) of someone who just reenlisted knowing that he very well might be heading over to Iraq, the Granddaughter of a Korean War Veteran, the very proud cousin of an Enduring Freedom Veteran, and former partner of an Air Force Veteran...
Once again, my cup runneth over. Thank you for the sacrifices you made.
Next up, the Air Powery Gallery. WWII Aircraft mostly.
I have no idea what this is. But it's shiny. That's the ADOBSO kicking in again.(Edited to add: "The first shiny thing is a Seversky P35. It was the first all metal monoplane fighter in the USAAC. As everyone of course knows, Seversky became Republic and Republic produced a lot of planes including the P47.
The P 35 was sold in small numbers to the USAAC and Sweden. By the start of WW II, it was pretty much obsolete. Ironically, a two seat version was sold to Japan before the start of the war. ")
Made me think of Rosie the Riveter.
This is just about a quarter of this particular hangar.
Again, I have no idea what this is... Maybe Greybeard can help out....
Oooooh, shooty things... The card reads:
FP-45 "Liberator" Pistol Originally developed in 1942 for the U.S. Army by the Inland Manufacturing Division of the General Motors Corporation in Dayton, Ohio, this single-shot, smooth bore, .45 caliber pistol had a mysterious history. Intended for mass distribution in enemy-occupied territory to incite revolt and uprisings, the Army referred to it as a "flare pistol" (FP-45) to ensure secrecy. The Frigidaire plant at Dayton chambered the rough barrels, and workers at the Guide Lamp plant at Anderson, Indiana assembled 1 million of these weapons. In Europe, the Allied commanders deemed the mass distribution impractical, and very few FP-45s were delivered to resistance forces. Only Chinese forces received many of these weapons, and most of them were destroyed.
Lord Guard And Guide the Men who Fly. In memory nine who made the desert a highway for our God. Transported from Wheelus Air Force Base in Libya, it honors the original crew of the "Cursed Plane" The museum has parts of this particular aircraft, a B-24 (Lady Be Good) that disappeared in 1943 over Italy. It wasn't found until 1959... In Libya. In a desert.
My namesake. The Strawberry Bitch. God I love the art that adorned the sides of aircraft back in the day.
Another bright shiny flying thing I can't identify, but I'm sure someone out there can.
(Edited to add: "Five By Five" is a P-47 Thunderbolt, more commonly referred to as "The Jug".
It had 2,000 horsepower hanging on its nose, and was a damn tough airplane. -- Thanks Greybeard!)
Ya still with me? Surely someone is. Maybe? I promise there's more shooty things coming....
I was trying to figure out what the little bombs on the side of this plane meant. I thought instantly of College Football helmets. I'm sure it has something to do with kills or something like that.
Fiery Ginger.
Another namesake.
The WWII hangar was incredible, but we were pretty anxious to get moving towards the next exhibit.
Modern Flight. Awesome stuff, and it reminded me of my Grandpa who fought in Korea.
Okay, I'm ready for bed. For those of you still reading, I promise to finish tomorrow.
Okay :P
Here's the one and only pic of me taken today.
There ya go anon. :P
BTW... Screw you. I was tired.
Today...
I spent close to six hours in the backseat of a car.
As exciting as that sounds to some, trust me.... It wasn't... I was next to Former Partner McHottie for most of those hours.
We went to the USAF Museum in Dayton. And the time spent in the museum was AWESOME (mostly in part to McHottie's insane knowledge of anything with wings or which destroys something).
Most of the time spent in the car was dedicated to picking on me. I'm an easy target. It's okay.
Thank you, Baby Brother and McHottie. I have a feeling you'll soon be good friends.
Oh, and I hate you both. Pictures to come tomorrow.
A good day.
Today I spent quality time with my son playing Guitar Hero World Tour, and introduced him to Bon Jovi. Two birds with one stone.
My daughter is still talking about last nights encounter with Santa. She's excited, and I'm excited that she is.
I'm doing okay, I really am. I think I've finally recovered from the cold that's kicked my ass for the last two weeks. I've been terribly stressed, and that's let up a bit in the last two or three days. I can finally feel the muscles in my shoulders and neck give a little. Like I'm getting a really good backrub.
I hope you're all having a wonderful weekend :)
Award :)
Thank you to my blog twin, Sam, Medix311, Chapati, and Ninja Medic for the Bookworm award.
(Somehow I managed to completely miss Chapati and Ninja Medic the first time around. I'm so sorry. Ya know how they say the mind is the first thing to go, right? At least I still have nice hair :))
You love me, you really love me!!! Sorry, dating myself there.
Rules are as follows. Pass it on to five other bloggers, and tell them to open the nearest book to page 56. Write out the fifth sentence on that page, and also the next two to five sentences. The CLOSEST BOOK, NOT YOUR FAVORITE, OR MOST INTELLECTUAL!
I have two books sitting on my desk, the closest being the phone book. Technically it's a book, but for the purposes of this award I'm going to grab the one next to it.
Life, Death, and Everything In Between: A Paramedic's Memoirs. Some Medic wrote it. I can't remember his name. (Sort of unrelated, if any of my local readers wouldn't mind, could you click on that book link and check out the helicopter at the top of the site... Looks very much like Lifeflight, doesn't it??? Sorry, my ADOBSO is flaring up again.)
Page 56... Oh, this is gonna be good. Fifth sentence (and a few more, hey, rules are rules!)...
"Unit Two, go ahead," Bobby answers, groaning.
"Respond to Crossroads on a Priority One. Back up Unit One on a motor vehicle accident." Well, we figured it was too good to last. Sigh!
I quickly collapse the poles and stow them under the bench seat as Bobby stows the cooler. I gather up the stringer of fish, and not knowing what to do with them, drop them in a biohazard bag and put them under the seat with the fishing poles.
*snip*
If you haven't purchased that Medic's book, you're truly missing out. It's one of my favorites, which is why it's sitting on my desk, next to the phone book.
My five picks:
Jay G. from Marooned. You never know what you might get there on any given day, and that's why I read his posts every day. Kids (and they are mighty cute, I might add), Politics, Guns, Food... You name it.
Lucy from Lucy's Logic. Her photography is stunning and her words are just as beautiful.
Hammer. Because he's Hammer. Hopefully he comes back soon, I've missed his posts.
Detail Medic, once again. Because I want to be her. I might have mentioned that once or twice.
And finally, I'd be out of my mind to not mention AD. I'm sure that he's already gotten it ten times over, but there's a reason for that.
Yet Another Bass Pro Post.
I might bitch and whine about living in Toledo, but the truth is (at least to some of my online friends), I'm a lucky girl.
I live within thirty minutes of both Cabela's and Bass Pro. Bass Pro is closer (about fifteen minutes) so tonight they won.
Hang in there folks, it's worth it.
The entrance is stunning... Even more so at night. My favorite part is the sign that reads "Welcome Fishermen, Hunters, And Other Liars." Like EMT's. Or so I've heard.
A ginormous 30+ foot Christmas tree greets you at the entrance. It was beautiful... I was using a 50mm lens, so this was the best I could do. It's the top quarter.
And then there's the fireplace. I love this fireplace, and the table that sits in front of it, fashioned out of an old door... It's beautiful. If you squint you can see my coffee sitting in the lower left corner.
But we weren't there to admire "some old table", we were there to see the Big Guy... You know... Santa. There were Reindeer tracks on the ground to direct us to his location. The kiddos excitedly followed them.
We were greeted with a veritable Christmas Shangri-La. Santa, Guns, and RC cars. They didn't know what to do first. Being my children, they instantly zeroed in on weapons and made a bee line for them.
That right there, my friends and neighbors, is my little princess, with a pink crossbow. She's a rockstar folks. Check out her third shot:
I wish I could say it was my shot, but I'd be lying. Hey, the sight was off, she adjusted for it, and I didn't. :)
Before my three-year-old completely humiliated myself and her Brother, we decided to go check out the other attractions. Like her other favorite thing. Trains.
They had trains. Lots of them. With itty bitty little villages set up. Future Cardiologist reminded me that we actually own a train set... I wonder where that disappeared to. I have a feeling I know, but I'm not going to go down that road. That's another post entirely.
Being my children, they were soon pulling me to another area. Yep. More guns.
Yep. That says Red Ryder. If you haven't seen the movie, you should. It's a classic :)
And once again, that's my little princess. FC wasn't nearly as intrigued by the guns as she was.
Her Mom wasn't much better. True, the targets were all of 3 yards away, but still. It was free, and it was fun.
And I didn't do so bad, for a kid :)
Our time in Christmas Nirvana was quickly coming to an end. There was more of the store to check out... Like a Christmas tree decorated with shotgun shells and pheasant feathers. It rocked. I want one.
And the baby bdu gear, which instantly made me think of AD and his beautiful little girl.
Soon it was time to go... Far too soon. I could spend a few hours here. And a few thousand on one of those platinum visa's I hear about but don't have (for reasons like this).
"Mommom, what's that noise?" My little princess was pulling at my sleeve. The sound was that of a Bellringer. The first that I've heard this season. FC is familiar with them, She isn't.
I folded up two one dollar bills and tucked them in my kiddos hands. "When we go outside, you both will pull this money out of your pockets and stuff them into the red bucket, do you understand?"
FC nodded. The Princess was a little less willing. But eventually she stuffed her dollar in.
We headed for the car. FC was the first to ask, "Mom, why did we put that money in those buckets? Where does it go?"
It was cold, the wind was blowing, and the little one wasn't exactly happy to be leaving without her pink crossbow, but this was one of those teaching moments.
"Well, FC... There are families who don't have a warm house to live in. You know that, right?" I was now pulling them across the crosswalk (in true form, fish lined. You just have to see it.)
"Yeah, I know."
"Well, those people ringing those bells... They give that money to the people who need it the most." I really didn't know how else to put it.
"But we need money, don't we?"
Damn, he got me.
"Well, FC, we have a car, and gas, and a warm house to sleep in. There are people who need to take the bus to get to where they need to go. There are people who don't have ANY house to sleep in. Or a bed. Or clothes to change into. I'd say we're pretty lucky, wouldn't you?" We were almost to the car. He stopped just long enough to admire that heap of crap that I curse on a daily basis.
"Yeah, Mom... We're lucky."
With that, I buckled the little one in while FC did it himself. And we drove home. She wasn't happy, but they both were was surprisingly silent.
It was a good night. Truly.
Extreme Makeover: Home Edition...
The Toledo Edition that I was fortunate enough to take part in will be aired this Sunday at 8pm Eastern Time.
I've already caught myself in a preview, I dare you to find me on Sunday.
A nifty prize goes to the first sighting. :)
Love and Everything After... pt. II
(Okay, I'm starting to think I should have named this post "A Redneck Love Story" - Epi
Edited again: Thanks David for the POTD nod!)
"What do you mean, pregnant?!?! I'm not pregnant, do the test again." I was quickly approaching frantic.
That poor Doctor, I'm sure that I was the highlight of his day. He told me in the calmest, most rational voice that he could muster that I was in fact, pregnant. And no, they didn't need to test me again.
"But I'm CATHOLIC." I blurted out.
Yeah right Epi, that's about as far from a "Get Out Of Pregnancy Free" card as you can get. Guess again, girly.
"Been having sex?" He countered, less than impressed with my argument.
"Oh yeah. There is that. But we used... ya know. Protection." It came out as a whisper.
No amount of Novena's was going to get me out of this one.
Now I just had to tell Him.
Four days later....
"What's wrong with you? You've been so quiet lately..." We were in bed watching some late night comedian. (Or was it South Park. I can't remember for certain.) What I do remember was Mr. Epi's concern over my sudden withdrawal. I also remember the date. July 1st, 1999.
I hadn't told him yet, hell, I hadn't told anyone. Looking back, I just didn't know how. I was terrified. It didn't matter how well I thought I knew him. This was life altering stuff, and the truth was, I was quickly figuring out that I didn't know him as well as I thought I did.
"Uhm... Did you notice that I didn't have anything to drink last night while you and Jackass friend were drinking?" I was shaking. Terrified. I did mention I was terrified, didn't I?
"Come to think of it..."
"Okay... And I haven't had as much as ONE cigarette in four days, right?"
And that's when the future Mr. Epi had his first lightbulb moment of our relationship.
"OH SHIT." His face instantly fell.
You know the saying Hope for the best and expect the worst? That pretty much sums up how I had been feeling up until that point. Now I just wanted to die. "Yeah, Oh shit," I replied. I rolled over in bed and tried to fall asleep.
**********
My assumption that since he had already proposed that he would automatically marry me because I was knocked up was... less than accurate. He was young remember, just 19. I was young myself, just two years older. Both of us are the children of very devout Catholics (while not being nearly as devout ourselves. Obviously.)
He was making it very clear to me that even though he loved me "More than life itself", he didn't love me enough to actually marry me. Even if I was pregnant. This caused major arguments for the first time in our now year-long relationship. I'm sure that it didn't have anything to do with the fact that for the first time in our, yes, very short relationship, I was very cranky, very tired, and possibly a touch irrational.
A sample...
"What's that smell?" Mr. Epi, err... Future Mr. Epi is sitting in the recliner watching TV.
I'm half asleep on the couch. And nauseated. "Mmmm... I dunno."
"Weren't you making something in the kitchen?" Mr. Epi takes a long draw off a bottle of Bud Light that he wasn't even old enough to drink legally.
"Oh SHIT. The noodles!" I jump to my feet and sleepily stagger towards the kitchen.
(Thirty seconds later...)
*Hysterical sobbing heard from the kitchen, Mr. Epi cautiously approaches the scene of the crime against noodles* "Uhm... Epi? You okay Baby?"
"NO, I'm NOT okay. Why didn't you tell me I was boiling noodles for the second time today? Jesus what's wrong with YOU?"
And scene.
Yeah, I wouldn't have married me either.
I looked him directly in the chin. "What...do...you... want? And no, I'm not in the mood for sex."
"So when are you gonna marry me?" He had this cheesy blissful grin on his face.
"Uhhhm... Huh?" I'm a woman of many words, clearly. I really didn't know what else to say.
He took the glass out of my hand and set it on the kitchen table behind him and pulled me close. "I said, When are you going to marry me?"
I blinked.
"Epi?"
"Really? Because I know that I said I just wanted to marry you for the epidural your insurance would pay for, butImighthavebeenlying." Being hugely emotional, I could feel tears coming, and quickly.
"It was never that I didn't want to marry you. I love you, Epi. You know that, right?"
"Do you promise?" A somewhat juvenile statement to make, but one that he knew the importance of. A promise is a promise. It was then and it has been to this day.
"I promise."
In a three minute ceremony in the Mayor's office two days later I married him. Two of his friends, the jackass and the man who would become my Son's Godfather were there as witnesses. No flowers, no pictures, none of my friends or family. The only memento I had was the marriage license.
And you know what? It didn't matter one bit to me.
He was making it very clear to me that even though he loved me "More than life itself", he didn't love me enough to actually marry me. Even if I was pregnant. This caused major arguments for the first time in our now year-long relationship. I'm sure that it didn't have anything to do with the fact that for the first time in our, yes, very short relationship, I was very cranky, very tired, and possibly a touch irrational.
A sample...
"What's that smell?" Mr. Epi, err... Future Mr. Epi is sitting in the recliner watching TV.
I'm half asleep on the couch. And nauseated. "Mmmm... I dunno."
"Weren't you making something in the kitchen?" Mr. Epi takes a long draw off a bottle of Bud Light that he wasn't even old enough to drink legally.
"Oh SHIT. The noodles!" I jump to my feet and sleepily stagger towards the kitchen.
(Thirty seconds later...)
*Hysterical sobbing heard from the kitchen, Mr. Epi cautiously approaches the scene of the crime against noodles* "Uhm... Epi? You okay Baby?"
"NO, I'm NOT okay. Why didn't you tell me I was boiling noodles for the second time today? Jesus what's wrong with YOU?"
And scene.
Yeah, I wouldn't have married me either.
**********
It was September, 1999, and we were attending a very close relatives wedding. Something that is for an as to yet unwed Catholic Mom-to-Be... well... Emotional. To say the very least.
I cried before Mass.
I cried during Mass.
I cried after Mass.
My closest cousin was marrying his pregnant girlfriend. I know how that sounds... Believe me. It might have been a Catholic wedding, but it was a redneck reception. What was killing me (other than the fact that she was due the same day I was, February 29th, 2000), was the fact that I knew her from high school, and oh, by the way, her baby wouldn't be born out of wedlock.
Hey, I didn't say I was rational, remember?
I was one of a small handful of sober people at the reception (with the exception of the Bride, I said we were rednecks, not white trash).
At one point I pulled my sombrero-wearing-extremely-intoxicated-future husband aside and begged him to marry me.
"Why don't you want to marry me now? You wanted to marry me a few months ago. You know I love you. You know that you're the only person I want to spend the rest of my life with. This is your baby. Don't you want to be a family?"
"Yeeeesssshhhh I waaahnnt to marrry you. Whhhhyyyyy would you shhhaaaay I don't want to marrrrry youuu?" Before I could answer, my cousin was pulling my sombrero-wearing-future-husband away to join into a chorus of "You've Lost That Loving Feeling" by the Righteous Brothers.
Not exactly a scene from "Love Story", but being the irritable cranky irrational pregnant girl I was, I planned on holding him to it.
Except that he forgot about it the next day.
Sure, he treated me like a Princess. Anything I needed and he did it. He rubbed my feet, my back, my head... He didn't tease me for sleeping just about every second that I wasn't working. He didn't even tease me when I called him in tears after tossing my cookies outside of the Amish Meat Market after a call for work.
He was doing what he promised my very threatening Father he'd do. He was taking care of me.
Despite his effort to take care of me, our fights were occurring on a pretty frequent basis. We'd argue over one insignificant thing or another, and I'd do what I do best to this day. I'd take off. I'd run and hide.
And then a few weeks after my Cousin's wedding... Something changed in Future Mr. Epi. At almost the very second I became resigned to the fact that I would be an unwed Mother (Horrors!), he did something I never expected.
I was walking to the kitchen with a glass, preparing to do a sink full of dishes. He stood in the doorway, effectively blocking it. I might be obnoxiously tall (6'1"), but he's still a good four inches taller.
I wasn't in the mood to be playful at that particular moment. To this day, doing dishes brings out the cranky in me. I really wish I had a dishwasher.
I cried before Mass.
I cried during Mass.
I cried after Mass.
My closest cousin was marrying his pregnant girlfriend. I know how that sounds... Believe me. It might have been a Catholic wedding, but it was a redneck reception. What was killing me (other than the fact that she was due the same day I was, February 29th, 2000), was the fact that I knew her from high school, and oh, by the way, her baby wouldn't be born out of wedlock.
Hey, I didn't say I was rational, remember?
I was one of a small handful of sober people at the reception (with the exception of the Bride, I said we were rednecks, not white trash).
At one point I pulled my sombrero-wearing-extremely-intoxicated-future husband aside and begged him to marry me.
"Why don't you want to marry me now? You wanted to marry me a few months ago. You know I love you. You know that you're the only person I want to spend the rest of my life with. This is your baby. Don't you want to be a family?"
"Yeeeesssshhhh I waaahnnt to marrry you. Whhhhyyyyy would you shhhaaaay I don't want to marrrrry youuu?" Before I could answer, my cousin was pulling my sombrero-wearing-future-husband away to join into a chorus of "You've Lost That Loving Feeling" by the Righteous Brothers.
Not exactly a scene from "Love Story", but being the irritable cranky irrational pregnant girl I was, I planned on holding him to it.
Except that he forgot about it the next day.
Sure, he treated me like a Princess. Anything I needed and he did it. He rubbed my feet, my back, my head... He didn't tease me for sleeping just about every second that I wasn't working. He didn't even tease me when I called him in tears after tossing my cookies outside of the Amish Meat Market after a call for work.
He was doing what he promised my very threatening Father he'd do. He was taking care of me.
Despite his effort to take care of me, our fights were occurring on a pretty frequent basis. We'd argue over one insignificant thing or another, and I'd do what I do best to this day. I'd take off. I'd run and hide.
And then a few weeks after my Cousin's wedding... Something changed in Future Mr. Epi. At almost the very second I became resigned to the fact that I would be an unwed Mother (Horrors!), he did something I never expected.
I was walking to the kitchen with a glass, preparing to do a sink full of dishes. He stood in the doorway, effectively blocking it. I might be obnoxiously tall (6'1"), but he's still a good four inches taller.
I wasn't in the mood to be playful at that particular moment. To this day, doing dishes brings out the cranky in me. I really wish I had a dishwasher.
I looked him directly in the chin. "What...do...you... want? And no, I'm not in the mood for sex."
"So when are you gonna marry me?" He had this cheesy blissful grin on his face.
"Uhhhm... Huh?" I'm a woman of many words, clearly. I really didn't know what else to say.
He took the glass out of my hand and set it on the kitchen table behind him and pulled me close. "I said, When are you going to marry me?"
I blinked.
"Epi?"
"Really? Because I know that I said I just wanted to marry you for the epidural your insurance would pay for, butImighthavebeenlying." Being hugely emotional, I could feel tears coming, and quickly.
"It was never that I didn't want to marry you. I love you, Epi. You know that, right?"
"Do you promise?" A somewhat juvenile statement to make, but one that he knew the importance of. A promise is a promise. It was then and it has been to this day.
"I promise."
In a three minute ceremony in the Mayor's office two days later I married him. Two of his friends, the jackass and the man who would become my Son's Godfather were there as witnesses. No flowers, no pictures, none of my friends or family. The only memento I had was the marriage license.
And you know what? It didn't matter one bit to me.
**********
Married life really wasn't much different than the two of us living in sin. Well, there were less arguments, oddly enough, but in general things were good. We complimented each other well.
He knew that I was obsessed with anything with wings and would call me outside when a C-130 was coming in to land so that I could take pictures. (The benefit of living in the flight path of a very nearby Air Guard base.)
I knew how much he hated to do laundry or iron anything, so I would keep his clothes clean and pressed. And I'd cook. And I'd clean. And do other wifely things.
When our job presented us with the opportunity to move back to Toledo we jumped at it. I was now VERY pregnant, and had no friends or family nearby. His family and friends were a short drive away, but he knew that this was something we had to do. We would both get a pay increase (He would be my supervisor now, technically,) and I would get more hours. And I wouldn't have to consult a map whenever I'd leave for a call.
We packed up our belongings and moved with three days notice. No small feat, believe me.
Life in Toledo came with a learning curve for Mr. Epi. While he had visited several times, he had NO idea where he was going at any given point. He would have to call me constantly for directions. Kind of like I had to when we moved to Mansfield. Only Toledo is four times the size of Mansfield, give or take a bit. He's a smart guy, he caught on quickly.
And sicker than hell.
I woke up with two stuffy ears, including one that hurt like hell, a fever, and a cough. When you add that to being EXTREMELY pregnant, it equals misery. I called my PCP immediately. His nurse and I have been friends for a while, she found room for me in his schedule.
I sat with a box of tissues in one of the exam rooms. When his nurse came in she had to take my BP three times. Not a good sign.
When he came in, he didn't recognize me. TRULY not a good sign.
Once he realized who I was, and that my BP was sky high for a pregnant girl, he lost it. He was ready to call an ambulance to take me directly to L&D. I had to promise to name my child after him and that I would drive to the hospital and only to the hospital for him to allow me to leave on my own.
My BP was 210/120. Far too high.
Married life really wasn't much different than the two of us living in sin. Well, there were less arguments, oddly enough, but in general things were good. We complimented each other well.
He knew that I was obsessed with anything with wings and would call me outside when a C-130 was coming in to land so that I could take pictures. (The benefit of living in the flight path of a very nearby Air Guard base.)
I knew how much he hated to do laundry or iron anything, so I would keep his clothes clean and pressed. And I'd cook. And I'd clean. And do other wifely things.
When our job presented us with the opportunity to move back to Toledo we jumped at it. I was now VERY pregnant, and had no friends or family nearby. His family and friends were a short drive away, but he knew that this was something we had to do. We would both get a pay increase (He would be my supervisor now, technically,) and I would get more hours. And I wouldn't have to consult a map whenever I'd leave for a call.
We packed up our belongings and moved with three days notice. No small feat, believe me.
Life in Toledo came with a learning curve for Mr. Epi. While he had visited several times, he had NO idea where he was going at any given point. He would have to call me constantly for directions. Kind of like I had to when we moved to Mansfield. Only Toledo is four times the size of Mansfield, give or take a bit. He's a smart guy, he caught on quickly.
**********
Before we knew it I was 36 weeks pregnant.And sicker than hell.
I woke up with two stuffy ears, including one that hurt like hell, a fever, and a cough. When you add that to being EXTREMELY pregnant, it equals misery. I called my PCP immediately. His nurse and I have been friends for a while, she found room for me in his schedule.
I sat with a box of tissues in one of the exam rooms. When his nurse came in she had to take my BP three times. Not a good sign.
When he came in, he didn't recognize me. TRULY not a good sign.
Once he realized who I was, and that my BP was sky high for a pregnant girl, he lost it. He was ready to call an ambulance to take me directly to L&D. I had to promise to name my child after him and that I would drive to the hospital and only to the hospital for him to allow me to leave on my own.
My BP was 210/120. Far too high.
**********
This is turning out to be a little more emotionally taxing that I had originally thought. For those of you truly interested, I promise to finish it soon.
Classic lines...
David at Authorblog put up some beautiful shots this morning... Mine aren't exactly in the same spirit, but they are of a similar subject.
I've always been fascinated by the insides of things. People, computers, pianos.... 
There's just something so striking (pun intended?) about the inner workings of pianos... They're works of art.
Inside and out.
Proud Momma
That right there is my little man. On TV. Again. He's the cute one in the middle.
It helps when your Papa is the chief photographer for the local ABC affiliate.
Veteran's Day.
Hello, My name is Epi, and I have a confession to make.
While I love my kids and I believe strongly in being an active participant in their education....
I hate school concerts. Hate them.
The school where FC goes is a brand new charter school. FC was in their first kindergarten class. He's now in the third grade, and the growing pains the school has experienced in the beginning really haven't been resolved, particularly when it comes to the school concerts. They never have enough seating, resulting in at least 100 people lining the walls in the gym. The PA system is always set to a level just below that of a jet engine preparing to take off (and this is coming from a girl who used to sit up against the speakers at the hard rock concerts that would come to town). You can't hear the kids actually singing.
Tonight was no different. Up until the last song.
The music teacher stood up with the microphone and announced, "Please stand while our Third Graders sing the National Anthem."
Without any backup music, and without the words in front of them, more than 90 eight and nine year olds stood in front of us facing their flag, and proudly sang the Star Spangled Banner.
At first it was just their young voices, by the third line, the entire audience was singing along with them. Many with their hands over their hearts, myself included.
And I might have shed a tear or two.
That's FC in the back row, in front of the doorway with the diamond print sweater on. My pseudo adopted son, J, is to his left.
I was so proud.
**********
"Mom? Are you a Veteran?" We were preparing to leave... Just ten short steps from the front doors.
"Well, Baby, it depends on what you believe a Veteran is. I was in the Army, but I never served in a war."
"But you were in the Army... That was hard wasn't it?" I could see the wheels turning in his head.
"Well, parts of it were hard. But what I did in the Army wasn't like what your Grandpa or my Grandpa, or my cousin C, or Matty had to do. They chose to leave their friends and family to go to a whole other country to fight so that we could have the rights we have. Has your teacher talked about that at all?" I didn't know what else to say to him in that crowded hallway.
How do you explain what sacrifice really means to an eight-year-old?
"But Mom, Mrs. K told us that anyone who has ever been in the Army is a Veteran. And Veterans are heroes." His eyes were so bright... I hadn't spent alot of time talking about my time in the Army with him. He had seen pictures, heard a few stories and for a period of time he loved to wear a hat I kept, but that's about it. It just hadn't come up very often in the past.
I swallowed hard. What do I say to him?
"She's right honey... Veterans are heroes."
"Really??? So you're a hero too??? Come look at this!!!! It's for you!" He was dragging me down the main hallway towards what they call the "middle hall". When I saw what he was presenting me with, it took my breath away. Where a stark white wall used to be was this:
"Well, Baby, it depends on what you believe a Veteran is. I was in the Army, but I never served in a war."
"But you were in the Army... That was hard wasn't it?" I could see the wheels turning in his head.
"Well, parts of it were hard. But what I did in the Army wasn't like what your Grandpa or my Grandpa, or my cousin C, or Matty had to do. They chose to leave their friends and family to go to a whole other country to fight so that we could have the rights we have. Has your teacher talked about that at all?" I didn't know what else to say to him in that crowded hallway.
How do you explain what sacrifice really means to an eight-year-old?
"But Mom, Mrs. K told us that anyone who has ever been in the Army is a Veteran. And Veterans are heroes." His eyes were so bright... I hadn't spent alot of time talking about my time in the Army with him. He had seen pictures, heard a few stories and for a period of time he loved to wear a hat I kept, but that's about it. It just hadn't come up very often in the past.
I swallowed hard. What do I say to him?
"She's right honey... Veterans are heroes."
"Really??? So you're a hero too??? Come look at this!!!! It's for you!" He was dragging me down the main hallway towards what they call the "middle hall". When I saw what he was presenting me with, it took my breath away. Where a stark white wall used to be was this:
Once again, I didn't know what to say. All I could squeek out was, "Thank you, FC."
My cup runneth over, Baby.
A few of my favorite things...
While quickly skimming over some blog posts I came across this from Bernice... It got me thinking about the last time I sat down and really thought about what makes me happy.
Tackle hugs from my kids.
A clean house.
The feeling of sand between my toes and warm salt water rushing over my feet.
Actually hitting a target when I squeeze the trigger :)
My little ones saying "Please," and "Thank You," without prompting.
Downloading pictures from my camera and finding that they reflect what I was trying to catch when I snapped the shutter.
Standing next to my brother in church and trying not to laugh when he makes up lyrics to the polish hymns.
Stepping off of an airplane in a city I've never been to. (With the exception of Columbia, SC.)
Freshly cut grass.
Flying across my Dad's fields on a snowmobile.
Cute new shoes that don't kill my feet or make me obscenely tall.
A freshly painted room with no paint on the wood floors.
Reconnecting with people I thought were long lost.
365 Project (One that I'm very proud of...)
Meet my Aunt.
She's a fantastic Mother.
She's a beautiful woman.
She works her ass off every single day.
She's a two time Cancer Survivor.
And yesterday was her birthday. 53 years old.
Happy Birthday, Auntie.
Damn.
It's snowing.
For all of my friends who are out on a truck tonight, be safe out there. People are driving like idiots already.
It's been a long day...
Tonight was an Aunt's Birthday (Happy Birthday Aunt Sue!!!!). We met up at Tango's, a cool Mexican restaurant with fantastic (although slightly overpriced) margaritas and even better food.
My family, as tradition dictates, was obnoxiously loud. Nothing new there. Even after 32 years their behavior manages to mortify me in public.
Even in a mostly empty restaurant. I apologized to the waitress, and tipped her huge.
**********
While I finish up a post that's taking entirely too long, a little Post Secret awesomeness.
Although I have to wonder if I was regretless if I would care about what "messed up" would feel like...Just sayin.
The Breda Fallacy: Dear Mr. President-Elect...
The Breda Fallacy: Dear Mr. President-Elect...
Breda.
Awesome post.
That's all I have for now.
Just got my JEMS email...
After reading a very interesting article about suggestions he has to improve the safety of HEMS by Brian Bledsoe (a hero of mine), and a lovely story about a 92-year-old woman who voted from the back of an ambulance on Election Day (She voted as a Democrat, I wont hold it against her)...
I saw a link for this. Apparently Stryker is advertising that their Power-Pro stretchers will reduce injuries to Medics by 50% (compared to the non-powered cots) or they'll pay the difference in cost to replace the powered stretchers with the non-powered versions.
Uhm... a few questions.
First of all, what if the service you work for actively discourages anyone (basic, intermediate or medic) to file a workers comp claim.
Secondly... How many Medic's do you know who actually lift?
Okay, I kid, I kid. Seriously. Medic Matthew, Rebel, AD... I'm kidding. Mwah. Smoochies and all that.
And for the record, yes, I realize that I'm not lifting anything right now.
Oh... My God. (My only Grey's post of the night, I promise)
Who do I love more...
The red-headed Army surgeon with the blue eyes...
Or...
OH MY GOD. Is that Denny? It is. It's dead Denny.
I'm in my happy place now. Even if it's just for an episode.
By the way, he was ridiculously hot in PS I Love You.
(Edited to add: Yes, I realize this was a totally girly post. But if you watched this and didn't shed at least one tear towards the end, you might not have a soul.)
Maria...
"Epi, we have to be very careful with Maria, her nurses and sister watch us like hawks. A crew last week hit the door with her cot and the nurse was on the phone with dispatch before they even left the house." Sara knows the patient well, she's been taking her to dialysis and doctor appointments for a few years now.
I had not had the pleasure of meeting her yet.
Sara wasn't the only one who knew and loved Maria. Many of the crews who had been around longer than a few months loved her. There's something about going into a persons home a few times a week and seeing them in their natural environment. Not a nursing home room, not a hospital room. Really talking to those family members, the ones who often know just as much about the illness as the patient does.
"Of course I'll be very careful, Sara." I didn't know what else to say. I was a little nervous about what I would be walking in to.
I was driving a Mod for one of the first times ever. Something that already had my nerves raw. At the Little Private Service that Could, I had a brand new Vanbulance which I loved. Backing in the huge truck I was now driving was something I wasn't yet comfortable with. We pulled up to Maria's house, a ranch on a narrow street lined with cars.
"Okay, Epi, back in. And for the love of God, try not to tear the lawn up or hit her sisters Caddy." Sara winked at me.
I paused long enough to rub my temples and check the mirrors. Three attempts later and the truck was parked, lawn and Cadillac intact. I watched in the rear view mirror as the garage door behind us opened.
We walked the stretcher into the garage and through the open door leading to Maria's living room.
"Hey Francine, Jeff, this is Epi, she's my partner for today." Sara introduced me as we maneuvered the stretcher around a recliner. I paused long enough to shake hands with both Jeff and Francine.
"I hope she won't be driving, I saw her trying to back in." Francine laughed. I couldn't blame her. It wasn't my best performance behind the wheel.
"No Ma'am," I smiled, I'll be in back with Maria.
"But you're new, wouldn't it be better if Sara rode in back?" Francine stammered.
"Ma'am, I am new to the company, and I'm new to the larger trucks. But I'm not a new EMT. I promise to take great care of her." I made eye contact with both of them, I wanted to put them at ease.
"Pipe down, Francine, I'll be fine." The weak voice came from Maria, laying in her hospital bed in the living room.
"How are you today Maria?" Sara was fussing over her, arranging the several layers of blankets that enveloped her tiny body.
"Oh, I'm doing well, thanks. How are you two young ladies?" Maria had a wonderful smile and bright clear eyes that day. She took a few minutes to show off pictures of her beautiful Granddaughter, who appeared to be roughly my daughter's age.
"Her pride and joy," Francine quipped.
That's how I choose to remember her. Alert, relatively pain free, and gushing about her Grandbaby.
**********
I haven't seen Maria in months, I believe the last time I had the privilege of caring for her was in June.
She was in pain. We didn't talk about her Granddaughter. We didn't talk at all. I did my best to keep her comfortable. She was on oxygen at that point, and even in the summer heat she shivered. I would pile on the blankets and stroke her hand. Every bump we would hit in the road would cause her to cry out.
I haven't seen Maria in months, I believe the last time I had the privilege of caring for her was in June.
She was in pain. We didn't talk about her Granddaughter. We didn't talk at all. I did my best to keep her comfortable. She was on oxygen at that point, and even in the summer heat she shivered. I would pile on the blankets and stroke her hand. Every bump we would hit in the road would cause her to cry out.
**********
While talking to McHottie last night our conversation turned to some of our favorite regulars. He mentioned Maria, and I decided to do a quick search online.
You know the search... I tentatively typed in her last name and hit enter.
She's finally at peace. I'm sad that I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to her, but I'm happy that she's at peace, finally. I'll remember her the way she was the day I first met her.
You know the search... I tentatively typed in her last name and hit enter.
She's finally at peace. I'm sad that I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to her, but I'm happy that she's at peace, finally. I'll remember her the way she was the day I first met her.
November 5th.
It's November 5th.
The sun is out.
I'm in NW Ohio and I'm wearing shorts. 75 degrees outside. On November 5th.
Maybe I don't live in the wrong climate :) Now if I could find 75 degrees year round I'd be set.
A meme. Yes, another one.
Since watching the national news and drinking cheap beer isn't soothing my soul...
An alphabet meme.
Self tagged from a former partner on myspace.
A is for your age:
19. Really. Okay, I'm 32.
B is for beer of choice:
Budlight.
C is for what you care about right now:
My country. It's apparently going to be a very long four years.
D is for your dog's name:
Her name was Maggie.
E is for one essential item you use every day:
Contact solution.
F is for one favorite TV show:
Grey's.
G is for favorite game to watch:
Duke Basketball
H is for Home town :
Toledo
I is for instruments you play:
I used to play guitar... It's been years.
J is for favorite juice:
Grape. As long as it's watered down.
K is for whose butt you'd like to kick:
My own.
L is for last place you ate:
My desk.
M is for marriage:
Don't even get me started.
N is for your Middle name:
Marie
O is for overnight hospital stay:
When my daughter was born.
P is for people you were with today:
The kiddos.
Q is for quote:
Life is not a dress rehearsal.
R is for Biggest regret:
Not something I'm ready to write about yet.
S is for SEX:
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHA.
T is for time you woke up today:
Coughing at 0210 (or so), Coughing again at 0330-ish, Coughing yet again at 0400, 0445, 0615, and finally 0645.
U is for underwear you have on now:
None. But I am wearing PJ's. So there ya go.
V is for a vegetable you love:
Broccoli, peas, green beans.
W is for worst habit:
procrastination
X is for xylophone (because it always is):
Okay, I laughed too, Sue.
Y is for something yummy you ate today:
Bagel with veggie cream cheese. Yum.
Z is for zodiac sign:
Aries.
Vote. 365 Project - Day 64
The parking lot at the polling station is not nearly as packed as I had imagined it. Certainly full, but no long line of cars snaking down the street. No line of people wrapping around the building. Of course it's a two story building, they could be lining the hallways inside.
I think we made it five steps past our car when we were assaulted by campaign literature wielding maniacs.
"Vote no on issue five!"
"Vote yes for COSI!"
"Vote yes for the Toledo Public Schools!"
"Vote no for the casinos!"
"It's time for a change! Do you want four more years of the same?"
SWR squeezes my hand a little tighter. She's not normally a shy child, but having ten grown adults descend on us has made her a little nervous. Then she realizes something.
The maniacs have stickers. LOTS of stickers.
"Come on sweetheart, let's get inside." I drag her away from the rolls of stickers and into the polling station.
**********
"Mom, what's that?" She's pointing at the newfangled touch screens that we use in Ohio to vote. Gone are the days where you'd step into a booth and pull levers. I loved those old booths.
"Those are computers, come on little one. Here's ours." I step up and slide my card in.
"I want to see!" She's standing next to me with her hands outstretched. "Pick me up Mom Mom!"
How could I not? But good God, she's getting heavy.
When she saw me touching the screen and turning black boxes green, she begged me to let her try. Rather than have her pitch an ever-loving fit right there, I showed her which boxes to touch.
That's when she did it.
She voted for Nader for President. God bless her sparky little heart.
(Obviously, I changed the vote.)
"Those are computers, come on little one. Here's ours." I step up and slide my card in.
"I want to see!" She's standing next to me with her hands outstretched. "Pick me up Mom Mom!"
How could I not? But good God, she's getting heavy.
When she saw me touching the screen and turning black boxes green, she begged me to let her try. Rather than have her pitch an ever-loving fit right there, I showed her which boxes to touch.
That's when she did it.
She voted for Nader for President. God bless her sparky little heart.
(Obviously, I changed the vote.)
**********
"Hey, Little Girl, Do you want some stickers? I've got lots of stickers for you!"
She Who Rules immediately starts dragging me back towards the nice stranger with the stickers.
Mental note. Have a talk with her about strangers.
"Mooooom... Stiiiiiickers!!!!!"
"Okay little girl.... Wait... Ohhhhh..." The guy with the stickers is wearing an Obama shirt. The stickers are Obama stickers. I stopped dead in my tracks. SWR doesn't.
"Mooooom!!!!"
So I gritted my teeth and thanked the nice stranger for the stickers.
They're just stickers, after all.
She Who Rules immediately starts dragging me back towards the nice stranger with the stickers.
Mental note. Have a talk with her about strangers.
"Mooooom... Stiiiiiickers!!!!!"
"Okay little girl.... Wait... Ohhhhh..." The guy with the stickers is wearing an Obama shirt. The stickers are Obama stickers. I stopped dead in my tracks. SWR doesn't.
"Mooooom!!!!"
So I gritted my teeth and thanked the nice stranger for the stickers.
They're just stickers, after all.Watch My Ego Swell :)
Holy crap. It seems as if I've fooled someone into thinking that I can actually write :)
Jay G., one of my favorite bloggers, chose to recognize this little blog with this fantastic award. I'm honored. Really. I still think that he might be suffering from hypothermia from this past weekends camp out with the scouts, but I'm honored regardless. Thank you, so much Jay. I feel like I should be passing out celebratory cigars or something.
To everyone who actually reads my blog despite my occasional hissy-fit ramblings, thank you.
Now here's the rules:
- Each Superior Scribbler must in turn pass The Award on to 5 most-deserving Bloggy Friends.
- Each Superior Scribbler must link to the author & the name of the blog from whom he/she has received The Award.
- Each Superior Scribbler must display The Award on his/her blog, and link to This Post, which explains The Award.
- Each Blogger who wins The Superior Scribbler Award must visit this post and add his/her name to the Mr. Linky List. That way, we'll be able to keep up-to-date on everyone who receives This Prestigious Honor!
- Each Superior Scribbler must post these rules on his/her blog.
Sam/Medic61 at On The Clock. My blog sister. Easily one of the most talented writers out there, and one of the most genuine, kindhearted people I've had the pleasure of getting to know.
Detail Medic at My Life In The Firehouse. A career FF, Paramedic and Honor Guard member. I never know if she's going to make me laugh, cry, or oogle guys in kilts. Oh, and I want to be her. But not in that stalkerish kind of way. I promise.
Medic Matthew at New Life Changes. We may have to agree to disagree on some political points, but I seriously dig his writing. He's snarky, often very blunt, but always a good read. Even on those political posts :) And I believe that they may have actually named that Rescue Hero after him.
Erica at Blissful Entropy. ER Nurse, writer, photographer, and Mom to some seriously cute kiddos :) This post in particular, is a favorite of mine. She's a newer addition to my blogroll, and I found myself going through her archives almost immediately.
Finally...
David McMahon at Authorblog. I've said it before and I'll say it again... This man is a powerhouse. David does so much to promote writing and photography, and how to look at subjects differently. I'm clearly a fan :)
Thanks again, Jay... I had a miserable weekend, you made my monday a little brighter :)
One more about Joe...
I'm a poet and didn't know it.
I was catching up with a good friend on Facebook when he mentioned that he had met Joe the Plumber.
Cool :)
Oh yeah, and he was sporting a University of Toledo sweatshirt
Very cool :)
Thanks Mike!
I would have loved to have the opportunity to ask him what this whole fiasco has been like for him.
Tagged by Erica :)
I've been tagged by Erica, and since I bitched previously about never being tagged by anyone for anything, I'll play along :)
All righty then.
1. Where is your cell phone? Disconnected.
2. Where is your significant other? (Pleading the Fifth)
3. Your hair color? Reddish
4. Your mother? Saint
5. Your father? Drunk
6. Your favorite thing? Kiddos
7. Your dream last night? Crash
8. Your dream/goal? Medic
9. The room you are in? Bedroom
10. Your hobby? Photography
11. Your fear? Failure
12. Where do you want to be in six years? Louisiana
13. Where were you last night? Sleeping
14. What you're not? Confident
15. One of your wish list items? D90
16. Where you grew up? Ohio
17. The last thing you did? Meds
18. What are you wearing? Scrubs
19. Your T.V.? Small
20. Your pet? NOOOOOOOOO.
21. Your computer? Desktop
22. Your mood? Irritated
23. Missing someone? Absolutely
24. Your car? Crap.
25. Something you're not wearing? Socks
26. Favorite store? Walmart
27. Your Summer? Horrible
28. Love someone? Yes
29. Your favorite color? Pink
30. When is the last time you laughed? Halloween
31. Last time you cried? Tonight (Damn you BRM!)
Another reason why I *heart* Post Secret
It's heartbreaking when you believe that you aren't good enough.
A good enough Wife.
A good enough Mom.
A good enough Daughter.
A good enough Friend.
A good enough Sibling.
Good enough. What does that mean?
YAY SAM!!!!
SOOOO....
I was scrolling through Google Reader when I recognized a picture.
Sam/Medic61 has been showcased on David's blog.
She rocks. Plain and simple.
Love and Everything After...
It started innocently enough.
It was 1997, and I had just discovered .mp3's.
I know, all love stories should start this way, right?
I was a regular on ISCA BBS. (For those not quite as old and geeky as I am, a BBS is basically a text based old school internet forum.) A friend of a friend on there had volunteered to help me track down that elusive Alanis Morisette file.
He found it. He also found every other file on my wish list.
We had struck up a quick friendship. He was 19, worked at Kroger's doing night stock, and on computers during the day.
I was 21 at the time, working at Ritz Camera and going to school at Bowling Green State University (GO Falcons!) at night.
The only thing we had in common was our geekiness. But we got along so well. God, could he make me laugh. We had at least a hundred late night conversations, on the phone and online. I hadn't even seen a picture of him at this point, these were the days before scanners and digital cameras were popular. It didn't matter. I was falling for him.
When the opportunity first presented itself, we met.
Fireworks, folks. Shock and Awe style. He was tall. He was really tall. 6'4" at least. He had sandy brown hair, and the most beautiful hazel eyes I had ever seen. He had the most perfect soft lips. And when he would hug me, I found myself being the first one to let go. He was sensitive, and funny, and wise beyond his years. And he got me. He understood me, with all of my quirks. He agreed with me that Mr. Frump in the Iron Lung had to be one of the best Weird Al songs ever.
I was in love.
Shortly after we first met in person, he surprised me by driving three hours to the mall where I was working to surprise me. At this point (before mapquest, google maps and GPS), he had no idea where I lived. He drove three hours, hoping that I was working.
That's when I knew he was in love.
He wanted to take me out. He had brought a friend with him, and a coworker/friend from work came with us. We went out and had a great dinner at a local sports pub. A waitress snapped this lovely picture of us. My apologies for the stellar quality.
That's my coworker and Mr. Epi's friend on the left, and myself and Mr. Epi on the right.
Yep. I was in love.After multiple trips back and forth between Newark and Toledo, we decided that we might want to make things a little more permanent. He proposed. No ring yet, no fanfare, no billboard at an Indians game, but it really didn't matter to me. I told him back then that I didn't care if he gave me a soda can tab for a ring. I loved him. God, we were so young.
I found out he was hired for a job he really wanted. I knew the whole time he'd get it... He was so brilliant when it came to computers, surely they'd see that when he interviewed. If I saw it in him, I knew they would. And they did. He was working on the Ohio EBT project (transitioning Ohio from paper foodstamps to a debit card, basically) at it's earliest stages.
He talked me into applying. It was computer work, something I had never done for a living, but he assured me that I could do the work, and if I had a problem I could always find him for help. The only problem was that I would have to move to Mansfield for the job. A good two hour drive from Toledo. My family. My friends.
"Where will I live? You're the only one I'll know down there...."
"Uhm, with me?"
Was he serious? Oh my GOD he's serious!!!
My response? "Sure, why not."
Yeah. They hired me on the spot. Two months later I would find out it was because the jackass who interviewed me liked the way my boobs looked in the shirt I was wearing, but it didn't matter at that point.
So I had the job, all I needed was money for the move. And I had none. I had to come up with it quickly. I need insurance for my beat up '88 Beretta, something that my mom had previously supplied, but had threatened to pull the second I moved out of the house. I needed to make a few repairs to it as well. The only thing I had of value was my camera equipment. The camera and lenses that my father had purchased for me as a Christmas gift a few years before. With a broken heart, I listed my equipment on Ebay. It sold quickly, and just as quickly I had the money I needed in hand. I made the move. What would be the first of three in just a year.
I found out he was hired for a job he really wanted. I knew the whole time he'd get it... He was so brilliant when it came to computers, surely they'd see that when he interviewed. If I saw it in him, I knew they would. And they did. He was working on the Ohio EBT project (transitioning Ohio from paper foodstamps to a debit card, basically) at it's earliest stages.
He talked me into applying. It was computer work, something I had never done for a living, but he assured me that I could do the work, and if I had a problem I could always find him for help. The only problem was that I would have to move to Mansfield for the job. A good two hour drive from Toledo. My family. My friends.
"Where will I live? You're the only one I'll know down there...."
"Uhm, with me?"
Was he serious? Oh my GOD he's serious!!!
My response? "Sure, why not."
Yeah. They hired me on the spot. Two months later I would find out it was because the jackass who interviewed me liked the way my boobs looked in the shirt I was wearing, but it didn't matter at that point.
So I had the job, all I needed was money for the move. And I had none. I had to come up with it quickly. I need insurance for my beat up '88 Beretta, something that my mom had previously supplied, but had threatened to pull the second I moved out of the house. I needed to make a few repairs to it as well. The only thing I had of value was my camera equipment. The camera and lenses that my father had purchased for me as a Christmas gift a few years before. With a broken heart, I listed my equipment on Ebay. It sold quickly, and just as quickly I had the money I needed in hand. I made the move. What would be the first of three in just a year.
I quickly found myself one of two female field technicians in the state. And I loved my job. I loved my life, really. Mansfield was a much smaller town than Toledo, but what it lacked in size it made up for in character. I had never seen Amish folks in person before, but in Mansfield I came across them (typically when driving much faster than I should have been) often. And for those of you who have seen The Shawshank Redemption, it was filmed in Mansfield and some of the cities nearby. (The prison itself is in Mansfield, in fact, and is open for tours, one hell of a haunted house, and overnight ghost hunts.)
So I found myself working and living two hours away from what I knew as home. And I loved it. I was with the man I loved, living in a beautiful duplex with plenty of room for us. I was in heaven. Everything was perfect.
Then I hurt my back at work. I didn't just hurt my back, I blew my back out. I was dragged to the local Podunk ER/ED/EC for the Workman's Comp workup. That's when I found out I was pregnant....
Oh... shit.
A little teaser...
Had a wonderful Halloween with my babies.
They managed to resist torturing each other (and those around them). 
They were respectful and thanked everyone when they were trick or treating.
And they gave mom permission to eat some of the goods :)
By the way, this is post number 499 for me. Hopefully I can pull my sorry butt out of bed long enough to post something worth reading in the next day.
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