Two Cookies, Two Coffees and Two Waters

The last few weeks at our house have been a whirlwind of pain and suffering. On February 11, 2016, my husband broke the small bone in his leg, just above the ankle and really messed up his ankle. He was across the road from our house, hunting with the dog. He went to jump over a small draw and caught his foot on grass or a weed or something. His foot bent back and sideways and he fell on top of it. When he got up, his foot was turned completely backwards. So what does anyone do in that situation? Crank it back where it should be of course, TWICE! What???!!! Who does that? Luckily he had his cell phone and called his boss, who is also our neighbor. So nice he was close by. After he put his foot back in he started walking up the hill to the highway where our neighbor picked him up and took him to the ER. I was at the studio, and got a text from John, which said, “Rick is giving me a ride to the hospital I broke my ankle I love you call me when you have a chance give me a ride.” That was it. Lovely. So Tayler had the broken jaw in November and now this. I told them that if I break anything I am killing someone.

Flash forward a few weeks to February 25th. Finally. Time for surgery. Let’s get this show on the road already. It has been a LONG few weeks waiting for this. Great. Let’s go. So ready. We were instructed to show up at the Same Day Surgery at 8:30 a.m. We get in the room and the nurse starts asking the obligatory questions they have to ask everyone. She asked John if he had any metal anywhere on his body, to which he replied his earrings and screws in his head from his brain surgery in 2000. I then responded, “His nipple rings.” I was kidding of course, but the nurse could not stop laughing. We couldn’t either. I think I’m pretty funny sometimes. She then gave the instructions on what to change into and said they will be with us shortly.



Hanging out, waiting. Waiting, hanging out. How much longer? Holy crap. John is still in a shit ton of pain. Then, finally. They come and get him to take him back to surgery. It is now about 11 a.m. The surgery takes about 45 minutes. To the waiting room I go. Hmmm, look at those cookies. They look pretty damn good. They have sugar, chocolate chip oatmeal, chocolate, and a few I have no idea what they might be. Might has well have one, with some coffee. Because waiting. So I have the oatmeal chocolate chip one with a great cup of clinic coffee. Okay, now what? Magazines. Time to catch up on who’s cheating who. Well, that took about five minutes. Standing, sitting. Sitting, standing. Checking out Facebook and Instagram and Twitter. Done. That took about 30 minutes. Now it is about 11:45 or so and I see the surgeon walk out into the waiting room. He came over and told me that everything went well and it turned out exactly the way he wanted it to. Sweet! Glad it’s done. Now I can go see him.


Not so fast. Still waiting. Why is this taking so long? Maybe I’ll have another cookie and another coffee. The chocolate cookie this time. Tastes okay. Missing something. Coffee is still good clinic coffee. Then I think to myself that I haven’t really had any water today. Oh, there is a water machine. So I have two waters while I still wait. Now it is 1:30 p.m.



Finally, they come and get me. They take me to a different room. When I walked in and saw him, his eyes are all puffy, like he just woke up from a two week sleep. He was groggy as hell. Apparently he had trouble waking up after the anesthesia. I knew something wasn’t quite right. He told me all he could think about was how long I had been out there waiting. Awwwww. The nurse got him some coffee and juice and something to eat so they could give him some pain pills. It took a while for him to feel okay. She took out the IV and then went over instructions on what to do when we got home and all that fun stuff. She then said he could get dressed and she would come back in and get him to wheel him out to the car.

He was smart enough to wear shorts, so at least we didn’t have to worry about trying to get jeans on. I helped him take off his fashionable hospital robe and gown. We got his shirt on. Then it came time for the pants. He put his right leg (the bad one) in and then the left. Then he had to stand up so I could help him pull up his pants. So here I am right at his waist, he’s 6’3″, trying to get his pants pulled up. I have my arms around him and keep pulling but the pants get stuck on his butt. We both then started laughing and couldn’t stop. I seriously thought I was going to pee my pants. I had to get down in the squat position so I wouldn’t pee. We still could not stop laughing. I am sure the nurses were wondering what the hell was going on. It took us a good five minutes before we could not look at each other and start laughing all over again. It was hilarity in the middle of a shit show. So we finally are now all ready to go. It was about 2:30 by now. The nurse wheeled him out and helped him into the Jeep.

We got home and I left him in the Jeep so I could go let the dogs out. Our plan was to go up the front steps of the house instead of through the garage. I told him I would go behind him up the steps in case he fell. He could fall on me.  He started up the steps and guess what? He just about fell backwards down the first step. That would have been a disaster. We finally got in the house and got him settled in the chair. Ahhh. Home. Time to start recovering.

After I got him coffee and water and all settled, he looked at me and said, “Thank you for taking care of me.” My heart melted.

We are still laughing about the pants.

…hopefully the next 6-8 weeks go fast.

Distant Memories (repeat)

I picked up my sister from the airport in Rapid City, yesterday. She is here to help with the Retreat I am hosting on Saturday. On the way home we started talking about family and about our grandma. I remembered this blog post I had written about spending time at Grandma’s house when we were little and wanted to give it a repeat.

We also talked a little bit about affection and how our grandma didn’t really show it. I find it a little strange how that happens, but we have no idea what shaped or formed her growing up. As I read through this post, I can see that grandma showed us affection by giving us things. She always brought us food. When she would come to visit us when we lived in the Euclid house, she would always bring two things: Long John pastries and colored peppers. Interesting combo, don’t you think? I wonder, since she was always on a diet if that was her way of balancing things out. She definitely showed her affection by giving things. She was known as the cookie lady in the town she lived in. She was an incredible baker. She made the BEST sugar cookies. I have always tried to recreate it and have never been able to get it just right. I can see now that the necklace she gave me was definitely a sign of affection on her part. I  treasure this even more now. The food memories. The necklace memories. The spending time at grandma’s memories. They are etched in my mind and I appreciate her so much more as time passes. 



A friend of mine and I were talking the other day, as we often do, about random stuff. He is going to be moving and has always said he is just going to get a trailer and dump it on a lot somewhere and not have to worry about any other expenses.

That got me to thinking about the seemingly carefree lifestyle of being a kid. I remember visiting my grandma in Vermillion, SD. She lived in a trailer park. I remember like it was yesterday. We had so much fun just playing outside, climbing the chain link fence beside her trailer. I remember I ripped my favorite pair of shorts climbing that fence. I also remember the trailer. The steps up to it were made of some type of metal or iron and made a weird noise when walking up them. They were kind of shaky too. I remember the texture of the door. Strange. Hard to explain. Kind of like bubbled paint. I remember the cool door knob. Another weird texture. A different kind of round than normal door knobs.

I also remember that my grandma was always on a diet and always watching her weight. She always had a box of what looked like caramels on her kitchen table. It seems like they were called Ayds or something like that. Some nutrition mumbo jumbo no doubt. Those things tasted so good. They were supposed to suppress the appetite. Not sure if they worked but we always begged and begged to eat them. Every once in a while she let us have one. Seemed like they only made us hungrier.

My grandma  had a cool Siamese cat named Simon. He hated us. We probably tormented him.

One particular summer I remember being devastated. Grandma had given me a necklace. It was a glass ball and had a mustard seed inside. It was so special to me. I thought I was king shit when she gave that to me. I know there was a special meaning behind the mustard seed. My sister and I were playing outside. I remember staring at the leaves on the trees and looking at the sky. I put my hand to my neck to feel the necklace. It was gone! How could that be? I didn’t hear it fall off or anything. I was sick to my stomach. That necklace meant the world to me. I feel like I let her down. Like I wasn’t responsible enough to keep something special. I was devastated. I searched and searched and searched for the necklace. I can’t remember telling her I lost it, but I must have. I’m sure she was disappointed. I know I was in myself. I have never forgotten that feeling. SAD!

The meaning behind the mustard seed.

“What shall we say the kingdom of God is like, or what parable shall we use to describe it? It is like a mustard seed, which is the smallest of all seeds on earth. Yet when planted, it grows and becomes the largest of all garden plants, with such big branches that the birds can perch in its shade.” Mark 4:30-32 (NIV)