Thursday, October 30, 2008

We've All Been Here

A very dear friend sent me the following e-mail.  I laughed so hard that I thought I would share it with you.  Happy Reading!


When you have to visit a public bathroom, you usually find a line of women, so you smile politely and take your place.  Once it's your turn, you check for feet under the stall doors.  Every stall is occupied.  

Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall.  You get in to find the door won't latch.  It doesn't matter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants!  The dispenser for the modern "seat covers" (invented by someone's mom, no doubt) is handy, but empty.  You would hang your purse on the door hook, if there was one, but there isn't - so, you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!), yank down your pants, and assume "The Stance".

In this position your aging, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake.  You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold "The Stance".

To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser.  In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, "Honey, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!"  Your thighs shake more.

You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the one that's still in your purse.  (Oh yeah, the purse around your neck, that now, you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time).  That would have to do.  You crumple it in the puffiest way possible, but it's still smaller than your thumbnail.

Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn't work.  The door hits your purse, which is still hanging around your neck in front of your chest, and you and your purse topple backward against the tank of the toilet.  "Occupied!" you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor.  You lose your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT.  It is wet, of course.  You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late.  Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper - not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try.  You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're certain her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear, "You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could get."

By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl that sprays a fine mist of water that covers your butt and runs down your legs and into your shoes.  The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too.  At this point, you give up.  You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat.  You're exhausted.  You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.

You can't figure out how to operate the faucets with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women still waiting.  

You are no longer able to smile politely to them.  A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from you shoe.  (Where was that when you NEEDED it??)  You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and tell her warmly, "Here, you just might need this."

As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used, and left the men's restroom.  Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so long, and why is your purse hanging around your neck?"

This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with a public restroom (REST? - You've got to be kidding)  It finally explains to the men what really does take us so long.  It also answers their other commonly asked question about why women go to the restroom in pairs.  It's so the other girl can hold the door, hang onto your purse and hand you Kleenex under the door.  

Oh How True, How True.  :)

Monday, October 27, 2008

The Consult Is Tomorrow

Tomorrow we meet with Little Miss B's Orthopedic Surgeon.  I am a little nervous.  Apparently, her left front leg is not growing correctly.  She started walking with a limp (or as I prefer to view it, a "Swagger") about a month ago.  We were back and forth to the vet and started with the diagnosis of sprain and moved up the rungs from there.  Mr. P insists that she wants to be like him with the limp he has from his accident.  Anyway, if you look at her leg, it is shaped a little bit like the letter S.  It is actually kind of cute and doesn't cause her any pain, but we have been told that we need to correct it now, otherwise, there is a great likelihood that the leg will eventually become lame.  Enter Orthopedic Surgeon - she needs surgery.

I am not surprised.  Why am I not surprised?  Because poor Little Miss B joined our brood with the following ailments.  

Worms, worms and more worms 
A double ear infection (yes, both ears)
Kennel cough
A urinary tract infection
A bad back right hip (which will need to be dealt with as she gets older)
 Found only through the X-rays that were needed when she had her Kennel cough
And now her front left leg

"Why didn't you just return her?"  is the question I hear quite frequently.  Are you kidding me?  I always said that I would never buy a pet shop puppy, so when I saw her and had to have THIS particular dog.  I knew we would have problems.  I didn't expect not to.  

I had done research on the breed, I had a list of reputable breeders, I was prepared for when I was ready to get my Basset.  I had it all planned.  It was not time, we were not ready yet, but then I saw her.  I was standing in line to buy dear hubby an I-phone for his birthday.  Suffice to say, he didn't get it that day, but a dog instead.  She was being walked by a pet store employee.  One look and I knew it, she was MY dog.  It was very strange.  I had seen a TON of Bassets over the last few years, never to feel like I had to have one.  I'd think they were cute and that someday I would get one, but never at that moment.  It was different with Beatrice.  I. JUST. KNEW.  So, I got the pet shop puppy I swore I would never get.  I could NEVER return her.  

As far as most of her ailments, they were a little bit costly, but minor.  Nothing huge that couldn't be treated and cured.  But in any case, Mr. P and I decided it might be wise to get her pet insurance (can you believe it?  I can't even afford health insurance for the humans in my family and we were considering pet insurance?  Yes, C-R-A-Z-Y!)  Anyway, we got it (and it was a pretty reasonable price too) because we figure that we have some heavy duty vet bills coming our way if Beatrice's short history is any indication of her life.  GUESS WHAT?!!  Her leg isn't covered!  Go figure. . .  Her leg isn't covered because the X-rays were taken a week prior to the insurance taking effect.  It is a "pre-existing" condition.  Gee, just like human insurance.  It makes me take pause and wonder if all of her ailments down the road will be denied for some sort of fine print exclusion.  No matter, we can't not help our dog, so one way or another, Beatrice will always be well taken care of - just like the kids.  They wonder if she might even be a little MORE well taken care of than them :)  

So, we meet for our consult with the surgeon tomorrow.  He will explain fully, what exactly needs to be done and why.  I only know a little from the conversation with our actual vet.  She really wanted us to speak to the surgeon directly - not a good sign??  We will find out where we go from here and possibly look for a second opinion, depending on what Surgeon says.  

Wish Us Luck.  We Need It.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Failing Puppy Class

"The Basset is facing the wrong way"     "The Basset needs to sit, not lie down"    "The Basset is on your wrong side"    "You need to turn to the right, not to the left.  The Basset needs to be on the outside".   These are a few of the things we heard last night.  I want to yell "HER NAME IS BEATRICE!"  Little Miss B and I are taking a puppy class.  It is not going well.  I don't think the instructor likes us very much.  We are both a little spazzy.  

While all the other dogs and owners are walking nicely in the circle, I am tripping over Little Miss B because she is diligently trying to get on my right.  Apparently, she MUST stay on the left. Neither of us is comfortable with her on the left.  She has always walked on my right.  I approached the trainer after class and questioned this.  I asked, very nicely, I might add, if it was OK for her to stay on my right.  "Absolutely not.  She MUST learn to stay on your left.  It is protocol," was the response.  What the . . .  I am not going to show her, I just want to be able to walk down the street without her tugging on her leash.  

We also got reprimanded because we are very slow.  While we walk our circle, the others in the class are lapping us.  To our 2 laps of the room, all the others have done 3 or 4.  We were told we need to keep up.  Huh?  She has a bad leg, she is short with little legs, she is lazy and I am lazier.  We can not possibly keep up that pace.  The instructor was not happy.

We are told to Halt.  All the dogs stop and sit nicely facing forward by their owners' left sides.  I tug the leash and tell Beatrice to sit.  She lays down facing backwards across my feet.  Instructor says, "The Basset can not lie down when told to sit.  When she does this, please pick her up, face her forward and put her in a sitting position."  I do this.  Numerous times.  Each time, Little Miss B proceeds to flop down on her belly and scooch back across my feet.  She's tired, she needs a nap.  

It is time for them to sit facing the middle of the big circle while Instructor walks around and tempts them with a bowl of food.  They are not allowed to get it.  Only to sit and patiently wait.  I can see it in Little Miss B's eyes.  She is going to melt down.  "Why is this woman teasing me so?" She is thinking.  "Why won't she let me eat?"  Apparently realizing that pulling on her leash and looking pathetic will not work to get the food, she decides that she won't even bother.  I asume she is now thinking, "Well, if I can't eat,  I'll just sniff the other dog's butts."  

"The Basset needs to return to her spot and resume position."  Uh-oh - Busted!  I tug and cajole Little Miss B back to our spot and think that the Military Boot Camps are probably less emotionally grueling than this.  

I am not very good at paying attention or following Instructor's direction and Little Miss B is even worse.  We are going to fail.  We can't even walk the circle without tripping over each other.  5 more weeks.  

I wonder if it is possible that we will miraculously transform to an amazing team of dog and owner.  I envision us amazing everyone with our ability to read each other's minds and walk and move seamlessly through throngs of people and animals without missing a step, only to "Halt" simultaneously facing the same way without any tugging, pulling, pushing or cajoling.  And then I wake up.  

Oh well, 5 more weeks and we can go back to our snuggle fest of a life.  It is OK that she can't seem to stay on my left.  She comes when called, leaves it when told and brings me sheer pleasure and joy every day, all day.  Who cares if she isn't perfect.  She's lovable and cute.  And in my world, that's all that counts.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

TAG - I'm It

I guess I've been tagged - and yes, it is my very first time!  Funny that I've actually been tagged twice.  I am posting both tags here, so bear with me.  First off, thanks to Thinkinfyou at Writing Quiets The Voice In My Head , I know, a little slow at playing along, but it takes me a while to process things, like the fact that I am supposed to respond :)   After reading her list, I am truly embarrassed because I am sitting here trying to think of 7 outrageous tidbits about me, and I can't even think of 1.  You might want to get a cup of coffee so you can stay awake to read this, or possibly just skip the post altogether.  Your Choice.  Here Goes:


1.  I smoke - A LOT!  Everyone who sees me light up for the first time has the same response. "Oh my God!  YOU SMOKE? You don't look like a smoker"  I ask you this, what exactly does a smoker look like?

2.  I am very insecure.  I have MAJOR social anxiety, worry about what everyone thinks of me and find it difficult to make new friends. (Can you say "Bag Of Nuts?")

3.  I have REALLY frizzy, curly hair.  Look at my photos, yes, pin-straight.  I NEVER leave my house without straightening my hair.  

4.  I have been bungee jumping!  Those who know me well, know I have no sense of adventure, but there was a time in my life when I actually got trained to teach Project Adventure to teens who had substance abuse issues.  It included a ropes course, wall climbing and yes, bungee jumping too.  I even did it once carrying a live chicken.  I named him Howard. 

5.  My dark sense of humor comes out when I am nervous - see number 2.  I tend to crack very inappropriate jokes in many a social setting.  Hence, the difficulty making new friends.

6.  I have the unbelievable gift of losing weight with the more I eat.  Yes, it is true.  I could live on a diet of Ho-Hos and Twinkies and still drop 10 pounds in a week.  

7.  My dreams are usually small premonitions.  I can't tell the future or anything, but if I have a dream about someone, I will either see them or talk to them within a week.  AND, I dream EVERY night and remember them all. 

The lucky seven tags I am passing this along to are:

Lisagh from Grosgrain Garage
Jerseygirl over at Dirty Little Secret

Thank you all for giving me something to look forward to reading daily.  Well, maybe not daily, but when I have time to browse your blogs.  You all always make me smile, give me something to relate to, give me great places to spend my money (that I shouldn't be spending) and in general make me feel not so alone in the day to day drudgery of life.  

Consider yourselves tagged twice because you are all being tagged for the following as well.  With the exception of the two who tagged me.  You only have to respond to the one you didn't send!

On to tag #2 - Thank you to Jennifer at The Gifting Gumshoe.  And yes, I stole your photo of the Tag sign too.  This is just about as hard as the last one - you people do not seem to understand that I have a very boring life and less of an imagination!  :)   

Four Wishes:
My children stay healthy
My children stay happy
Mr. P and I enjoy a long life and retirement together
Little Miss Beatrice gets through her surgery just fine

Four Places I Want To Travel:
St. John - Where I will never leave - I will retire there

Four Careers I Want To Be Involved In:
Volunteering with Little Miss B as a Therapy Dog Owner
Shopping, but getting paid for it :)
Doing what I do now - working as a Small Business Owner with Dear Hubby
Something with animals - Don't really know what

Four Things I Would Like God To Say To Me At The Gates Of Heaven:
You Did The Best You Could And That Was Good Enough
Your Grandmother Is Waiting For You
You Were A Great Wife And Mother

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Photos of Me and Mine

Got some pics back from favorite Bro-In-Law's wedding.  Here's a couple of the family.  Keep in mind - NO RETOUCHING or anything has been done yet - just a quick preview of me & mine.

We got some nice shots of Me, Mr. P and lovely cherubs.
Even one of just me with cherubs.


Finally got a group shot of the girl grandchildren on dear hubby's side.  And the boys too - Please Note:  Last guy in pic is Beloved Eldest Niece's Beau.  Is it possible I may have a new nephew in the future????

This one is of me with Favorite Beloved Eldest Niece
(on dear hubby's side of course)

Eldest Cherub had a grand old time rocking out.
Note in last photo the suit has come off and the shorts have gone on.


I remember posting that I would be blogging about Mr. P's first dance soon a while back.  Well, he got it.  Although, I don't have a pic of our first dance together, he did get a shot with littlest cherub.   I got one with eldest.

Little Miss Samantha enjoying the wonderful Ice Cream Bar they had as part of dessert.  I must say that I now truly believe that an Ice Cream Bar should be MANDATORY at every wedding.

Last but not least, I even got to share a few tender moments with each member of my brood.  It was even caught on camera.  I can now prove to the world that I really am a loving wife and mother.     :)


I can honestly say that it was a beautiful wedding, a beautiful day and that all of us had a great time.  So good in fact, cherubs are actually looking forward to being invited to another wedding.  

Monday, October 20, 2008

Where Does The Time Go?

I was looking at dear cherubs yesterday and wondering where all the time went.  I remember when they were babies and I would be so tired that I would gate us all into our family room and try to take a quick nap while still keeping an eye on them.  I would lay there almost unable to move from sheer exhaustion and wish that they were older so life would be a little easier and less exhausting.  

Now, I look back and realize that as they grow older, my daily life doesn't seem any easier or less exhausting.  It is just that my exhaustion is from different things.  I am not tired from chasing them around so they don't get into mischief or hurt, or from the nightly wakings for a bottle or a little love.  I am not tired from trying to physically juggle 2 children and laundry basket while maneuvering down our narrow staircase.  

I am tired from worry.  Worry about so many silly and not so silly things.  Are they healthy? Happy?  Do they have friends?  The right kind of friends?  I still worry about them getting into mischief, but such a different kind.  They are still so young, but so much older than I ever was at that age.  I am having a hard time figuring out how, when, and most importantly what to let go.  How much space do I give them and at what age?  Can my 11 year old go to the movies with friends, but sans an adult?  What curfew do I give my 14 year old as he heads out to Friday Night Lights?  

They have grown so quickly.  They have grown so much.  I can only hope that everything I have said and taught them, someway, somehow has made it into the far recesses of their maturing brains.  I think my kids are smart.  I think my kids are compassionate.  I think my kids know right from wrong.  I can only hope that what I think is true.  I can only hope that as they venture out into the world without me, they remember all the rules, morals and codes Mr. P and I have inundated them with since birth.  

I have recently had some heart to hearts with dear cherubs and for the sake of not wanting them to have to remember my very long laundry list of do's and don'ts of living in a moral society, I have narrowed it down to the basics.  And if only a few make it with them out into the big, bad world I hope they are the following:

Be Good, Behave, Be Careful - I got this from dear mother (we call it the 3 B's)
Look and Listen
Stick Together
Play Fair
Say You're Sorry - and mean it
If you don't want mom and dad to see it, hear it or know about it - DON'T put it out there 
You can't take it back ( AND WE WILL FIND OUT!)

And most importantly - the one that I think many people always forget -
Treat EVERYONE  you meet with the utmost of DIGNITY and RESPECT

And even if they don't get it ALL right, ALL the time, I know that dear cherubs get it right at least SOME of the time and for now, that's good enough for me.

We still have a few years left to work on it.  

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

The Misfortunes of 2008

My Hot Water Heater Broke!

This weekend was favorite Bro-in-law's wedding.  In Connecticut.  All Weekend.  We were going to leave Friday, but some unexpected work came dear hubby's way, so we rescheduled everything in order to go Saturday morning.  How strange the way things work out.  

Friday morning, littlest cherub and I hit the road to spend the day getting manicures and pedicures for the big event.  Four hours later, waxed, buffed and polished - we headed home.  When we pulled into the driveway, I asked littlest cherub to take in the trash cans so they wouldn't be sitting at the end of the driveway all weekend.

"Hey mom!"
"Why's the garage all flooded!?"

Down to the basement we go.  Wet nails and all.  Standing in a flood with water still gushing about, I call a dear friend who happens to be a plumber.  Call the office.  Call his cell.  Call his house.  No Answer.  Call his wife's cell.  

"Please tell me you are not in Florida."
"Yeah, why?"
"I'm standing in a flood."
"Hold on.  I'll get J."
"Hey, go shut off your water main."
"Where would that be?"
"You're kidding me.  OK, just go sit at your kitchen table and wait."

Now that, I can do.  But instead, I grab eldest cherub, we find the water main and shut it off and then start clearing out the various and sundry items of years past that have claimed the basement.  Then the thought arises - "Maybe I should check out the finished half of the basement to see if any of the water has made it's way into there."  Of course it has.  We clear out the various and sundry shoes, toys, etc . . . that claim all the closet space in this half of the basement.  We now have a nice large pile of miscellaneous goods ranging from baby carriages to a commode piled in a heap on the twin beds and the floor in the middle of the room.  We begin to rifle through the items and toss what does not seem to be salvageable from water.  

Shortly, the plumber arrives.  We discuss our options and off he goes to get me a new hot water heater.  Oh, how it pays to know someone in the business.  Meanwhile, I have called dear hubby and told him he needs to come home and oh, by the way, you need to stop and buy a wet-vac too.  (Yes, ours died a month ago)  I then go to turn on the dehumidifier to try to dry some of this mess up and I notice that it is FROZEN.  SOLID.  Does this actually happen?  How does a dehumidifier freeze?  When plumber comes back, I ask.  

"Oh, you're out of Frion"
"Do you happen to have any with you?"
"No, we don't do AC units anymore, and anyway, you can't refill them, you'll have to get a new one"

Of course I will.  Oh and did I mention that our dehumidifier is plumbed DIRECTLY INTO OUR HOUSE!  Yes, not a simple task to replace it!  So, in the name of THIS IS A HAPPY WEEKEND, I wet-vacced as much water out as I could, threw out most everything in sight.  Shut the dehumidifier off and shut the door.  Figured I would deal with it on Tuesday, only Tuesday has come and pretty much gone and guess what . . . the door is still shut waiting for me to deal with it.  Oh well, there's always tomorrow.  

You may wonder why I am putting off dealing with this dilemma that could possibly ruin the carpeting, create a toxic mold and at the very least, smell for years to come.  I will tell you.  Because I. AM. DONE.  The following is a rundown of everything that has broken in 2008:

The dishwasher (an 8 month ordeal)
The dryer - twice
A downspout on the house
The China Hutch (and all the China in it)
The mailbox (smashed)
The pool heater
The cell to the pool filter
We had termites
Our Truck
The kitchen cabinet
Three window screens (and one actual window)
The refrigerator
The hot water heater
The dehumidifier
Numerous cell phones, ipods and other unnecessary, but indispensable electronics

. . . and I am sure there are many other things that seem minute in comparison to the above, so need not even be mentioned here, but I assure you, there is always a large bill for fixing it attached.

So anyway, as I said above, I.  AM.  DONE.   So done in fact, that this year, instead of our usual goofy Holiday Photo, I have written a poem . . . about all the things that aggravated me in 2008.  A small sampling is as follows:

Because of misfortune
Bad luck and dread
This year brings no photo
But a poem instead

Late in month 1
Mr. P fell
His spill was quite bad
We thought he'd never get well

The dishwasher & dryer 
In month 2 they did break
The downspout was hanging
The rain made a lake

You will have to wait until December for the poem in its entirety, but I assure you, it is quite humorous and so creative if I do say so myself.  :)    It is entitled the 12 Months of Christmas and the funny part is that I have so many things that I could list, there were actually not enough months for everything.  (And it's only October!)

With all that has gone wrong, I find that this year has not only made good fodder for blogging, griping, groaning and getting much sympathy from family, friends and even casual acquaintances, but has definitely pushed the strength of Mr. P and my senses of humor, which ironically is quite strong now.  

Hey, you know what they say . . . "That which does not kill you, only makes you stronger" and ultimately helps you find humor in pretty much everything.  Not to mention, it could be so much worse.  

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

The Joy of School Photos

School photos were yesterday.  Littlest Cherub had a meltdown because it was a gym day and they are not allowed to change their clothes for gym in the sixth grade.  

"I can't wear sweats and a T-shirt for picture day"
"Then wear something else . . ."
"Mooomm, we're running the mile today!  I CAN'T wear anything else"
"OK, then wear sweats and a T-shirt"
"Moooooommmmmm, I will look horrible in my picture"
"Then wear sweats and a nice top over your T-shirt and just take it off after"
"I'll get in trouble"
"No you won't"
"You don't know anything"
"I know I don't, but I try.  Why do you care anyway?  It's not like we use those pictures anyway"
"Great, that saves me forty bucks"
"Mooooommmmm - you are so mean!"
"What do you want me to tell you?  Take it, don't take it - just go get ready for school"
"Oh, by the way, can you pay the extra money for retouching?"
"Why? Do you want them to change the clothes you're wearing in the photo?"

I ask you, why do I even bother having these conversations?

At the other extreme, eldest cherub comes home from school and states . . .
"Oh, by the way, you're going to hate my picture"
"Well, I forgot to take my sweatshirt off, and I had the hood up, kinda covering my eyes, and oh yeah, when the guy said 'SMILE' - I did this . . .(horrible grimace here) . . . and well he took the picture and that's what you're gonna get"
"Great, I'll make sure to use it as our Christmas Card"

I swear on my Grandmother's soul that I DID NOT HAVE AN AFFAIR WITH A GANGSTA!  I have no idea how this happened, but do I have the only Suburban Homie From the Hood?

Eighty dollars later and 2 sets of school photos to join the last seven years worth in the bin in the basement.  I'd say MONEY WELL SPENT!

Friday, October 3, 2008

New Mr. P Update

Mr. P had his doctor's appointment this week.  Oh, how life is bittersweet for Mr. P.  The good news is that doc said he is WAY ahead of the game in healing.  The bad news is another 3 -6 months for Mr. P with his cane.  

The rundown on his injuries are as follows:
Cracked Transverse Process - HEALED
The 2 Severed Transverse Processes - HEALING - almost there
Fibula - Pretty much HEALED (It has fused back together and just has a bit more mending)
Ankle - HEALED

The Tibia is on its way to healing, but there are still gaping holes between the bone segments.  It is just a matter of time for it to all come together.  The funny thing is that the Tibia isn't what Mr. P gripes about (Even though he can only walk about 10 feet before he will fall).  He is ALWAYS complaining about his back.  He is in so much pain in his back.  Doc says that this is due to all the soft tissue and nerve damage back there, and that Mr. P may as well get used to it because he will ALWAYS have some pain for the rest of his life.  Not quite as severe as it is now, but something . . .   Mr. P thinks he is a hero and won't take his painkillers.  Doesn't want to get addicted (Good for him - I don't know though, I think I'd just rather have no pain).  The muscle relaxants seem to help him a little, but make him loopy and he can't have his cocktails with them, so he only takes those when he absolutely has to.  We shall see where it all leads him in the coming months.  

Meanwhile, it is business as usual for Mr. P.  He gets up every day, goes faithfully to his physical therapist and then off to work.  I love my dear hubby, he is persistent if nothing else.  He will not stop his life and trying to live it normally because of a little pain and limp.  We were talking the other day and can you believe that even with the extent of his injuries, he only missed 8 full days of work?  For many months, work was not very productive (or productive at all) but he made the effort to at least show his face in the office.  

As ski season descends upon us, I feel a little bit sorry for him.  He sees the kids going through their gear and talking about which trails will be open on the first trip up and you can see the envy and wistfulness in his eyes.  Mr. P knows he won't be skiing again until next season and is quite troubled by this.  But again, to his credit, Mr. P plans to go up with cherubs EVERY weekend and while they are happily skiing, his plans are to set up a huge tailgating area at the mountain to serve up Rib-eyes, chicken sandwiches and a host of other gourmet delights at lunchtime.  I don't know, maybe even I will join them up North this year, if not just for the food.  

Well, that's it on the Mr. P progression of healing.  And again, I give credit where credit is due.  He is a strong, determined man and continues to improve every day regardless of pain, regardless of setbacks and regardless of timeframes.  Soon I will be blogging about our very first dance!