Of Sandwiches and Surgeries ...

So ... let me tell you about the rough day I had yesterday. Late last night as I sat on the bed eating my dinner which consisted of one half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich ... wearing a white T-shirt ... it threatened to slip and fall, thus soiling my T-shirt and perhaps ruining my dinner. In my attempts to save it I royally pulled a muscle in my shoulder.

Other than that, my day went really ... really .... well.

Oh yeah, PDaddy had a 7 1/2 hour, complicated, life threatening surgery and came out like the trooper that he is. As in everything went splendidly. Let's just say that less than 24 hours later he has already walked around the nurses station, been moved out of ICU to a regular floor and cracked us up a half dozen times.

You might also be happy to know that ...

*Your faith and prayers were heard. Over and over again. Our gratitude is boundless.

*On this very day, PDaddy and I are celebrating our 34th wedding anniversary and ...

* Oh yeah. The PB&J was delicious.

For Your Viewing Pleasure ...

So ... first of all ... I have to say thanks for all the very lovely comments on the last post. PDaddy and I continue to be overwhelmed at the amount of love and concern on our behalf.

And we were having a hard enough time just being "whelmed".

Secondly ... I have to give a shout-out to Lyndsay who designed the new header for my blog. Is it not so charming? I cannot mention changes to my blog however without giving another big shout-out to Mrs. Dub who did all of the other tweaking and color-arranging. I don't know if it's a mid-life crisis or what, but more and more it's simple that makes me happy.

Speaking of happy. Apparently no one is this family is feeling an obligation to appear glum. In fact "wacky" would better describe our demeanors.

So if I must leave you looking at the same pictures for a few days, I give you these. Mr. Gee and Miss Dub just want you to be happy.

Works for us.

The Story, the whole Story and nothing but ...

So ... after 4 1/2 months of beating around a very large, prickly bush, the time has come to fill in the details. You know ... the PDaddy details ... the why-the-heck-are-we-going-to-Seattle-for-a-month details. The details that some of you are mighty familiar with and others ... not so much.

Let me just say that I have not previously told this story because I didn't feel it was my story to tell. Over time I have seen PDaddy (the DH, fyi) himself spill some parts of the story, so at this point ... with 4 days to go before we leave ... here goes:

In March we went to the doctor because he was feeling really dizzy. They saw his blood count was low and assumed a bleeding ulcer. Three days later we found out they were right ... except that the ulcer was sitting on a tumor which was sitting on his esophagus.

Bummer.

No problem. PDaddy took matters into his own hands. We found out that this would involve a major surgery that would remove most of his esophagus, and make a new one out of the top of his stomach. We were told it would be wise to have a surgeon that does this surgery a lot. Really a LOT.

Enter Dr. Low in Seattle. Our new home-away-from-home.

Did I mention that he has already had 9 weeks of chemotherapy (which worked really well ... woohoo) and blood clots in his lungs (that put us back in the hospital in June ... not even a woo.) Our biggest concern at that point was that the surgery would be postponed. Ooh, only by a month! Woohoo and Yippee. The surgery will be on Tuesday, August 26th. We welcome your prayers. We know we have them already. We thank you.

So ... the good news? From the very beginning there has been more good than bad. He was diagnosed relatively early. He found the right doctors. (Our family doctor has been more than amazing.) The blood clots were diagnosed in time.

The best news? Well first of all, friends and family who have given support and love ... and an amazing amount of chocolate. We thank those who will (live in) and care for our home while we are gone.

The best-est news? Why PDaddy himself, of course. He is wonderful. He has made me laugh every single day. He literally has knowledge on his disease that equals his doctors. He has an amazing faith that touches everyone. He never, ever wants anyone to feel sorry for him. So we don't.

We just laugh.

And we pray.

And we thank you in advance for joining us.

Once Upon a Time ...

So ... this story could easily be mistaken for one that involves a little blond girl and some porridge, but in my case it involves a larger brunette and her Marshalls. Although I think I would really like some porridge.

The story begins several weeks ago when I needed to go to my Marshalls (aka HomeGoods) to exchange a shirt that PDaddy received for his birthday that was too big. (I also bought myself a sweater ... which fits in later.) When I brought it home, we discovered that the new shirt was ... you guessed it ... too small. Back to my Marshalls I go to get yet a third shirt. It's a little too small again, but we're keeping it. Let's just say that just right is mostly fodder for fairy tales.

In the meantime I discovered that my new sweater was way too much like another sweater I already owned. Back to Marshalls. Ooh ... I could really use some new super-comfortable-but-still-highly-stylish shoes to trek the hills in Seattle. Once home it takes me about 20 minutes to figure out that the super comfortable part is also fodder for fairy tales.

Back to Marshalls.

Having already decided to take only pre-broken-in shoes with me to Seattle, I head straight for the pillows. (Always comfortable ... always.) I find these down-filled beauties. I come home, I put them in the family room. I live happily ever after.

I used to be a person that had a hard time returning things. Apparently not anymore.

How about you? Are you a returner?

Are you as glad as I am that I never saw the same person at the return aisle twice?

Is it for the birds?

So ... I've got nothing to blog about ... except blogging. This morning PDaddy said that he thought it was one of the most wonderful things that had happened to me ... because it makes me so happy. I asked him if he thought maybe I was a tad "obsessed". He politely declined to answer that question ... specifically ... but it's pretty clear that what makes me happy, makes him happy.

This conversation came about, of course, because when I read my daughter, Mrs. Dub's blog today, I determined to make some decorative changes to my own blog. One thing led to another and now I am hoping to clean house just a little ... and maybe even get a new banner.

Which is not solving world hunger.

Is that Okay?

Bathroom Talk

So ... I have a couple points to touch on today ... and they all involve the bathroom. In a good way. Seriously.

Like this lovely picture of (fake) flowers from my bathroom. I love the white ... and the green. And the ... fresh.

Speaking of fresh, here is my latest acquisition from Bath and Body Works. It's their scent du saison, so I already know it will go away until next summer ... just like my all-time-favorite Dancing Waters did. This one is called rainkissed leaves, and it is just a green version of DW. But there is one little problem. The spray makes me choke. Like ... I have to spray and then hold my breath and then move to a different place before I inhale whatever it is that is floating in the air. All of that involves breaking a sweat, which is immediately counter- productive.

Has anyone else had this problem?

This last tidbit involves Park Tae-hwan from Korea, pictured above. PDaddy and I watched him win the gold in the 400mm freestyle on Saturday night. Before he raced, they told his story:

He was at the 2004 Olympics as a 14 year old. As the race was about to start (also 400mm freestyle) he literally ... jumped the gun. He dove into the pool, prematurely and was immediately disqualified. And then ... then ... he went into the men's room and stayed there for several hours, feeling very humiliated.

I have been there, haven't you? (I was there, as my most angst-ridden teenage moment came in Junior High when I got accidently locked in the restroom and had to scream until someone found a janitor. When I walked out ... a small ... snickering ... crowd had formed.) I did not go on to win a gold medal in Junior High. But I did ... go on. Just like Park.

That's it. Bathroom Talk. Inspiring and sweet smelling.

Just like success.

The Real & True Confession

So ... I really didn't want to bore you with the details of the quilting and the pattern-ing and all. Let's just say they are both coming along. While we are anxiously waiting ... how 'bout a new True Confession?

I am really not that fond of Reality TV.

In fact I real-ly don't like it. It's true that I watched a season of Trading Spaces when children #1 & #4 happened to be living at home and were bored as posts. I believe I caught a wee bit of American Idol the first season ... which was that same summer. But that was all about the family togetherness and very little about the reality.

In the last few years I have been strongly encouraged by friends and family alike to watch Project Runway. Eh. Hard to get past the hair. And the extremely large collars. At least in the little bit of last season that I saw, there was a minimum of drama. Meaning ... Scripted Drama.

Which is pretty much what I hate about Reality TV.

However. Recently, PDaddy has become a fan of some reality shows that actually involve ... Real Reality.

First ... Deadliest Catch. The story of those who crab fish for a living and no one can figure out why. It's scary. And wet. And I am pretty sure I could add smelly to the mixture. Next: Ice Road Truckers. The story of those who drive multi-ton vehicles through the ocean ... when it just happens to be frozen on the top part. Again ... don't quite understand the draw of this profession.

After watching a couple of seasons, we have come to the conclusion that even here there appears to be a need to manufacture some of the drama. (Falling through the ice isn't enough? Getting pinched by those scary little claws?) But we have enjoyed it.

The truth is this: There is only one reality show that we both really and truly love and that would be Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives. If I didn't already have a funny son who can cook ... I would adopt that Guy Fieri on the spot.

So ... what are your reality faves? Just because I don't like them, doesn't mean I don't want to hear about you.

Vintage Strings Attached

So ... since my next project du jour involves quilting my ginger scrappy quilt, and worse yet ... writing the pattern ... I needed some distraction, if just for a moment. Here is a little trio of treasures that sits atop the tower o'thread in my sewing room. The picture with the green frame is from my childhood home. I brought it home to live with me after both my parents were gone. The worst part is that I don't exactly remember where it was hung when I was a kid. How bad am I? The plate is something I picked up at an antique store several years ago, but I like to pretend that it's a picture of the street I live on ... now.

Ummm .... let's just say that it is.

This little tin with sweet birds on it was purchased just a couple of weeks ago. But get this! It is meant to hold string. You know I love string! I use a lot of string, so of course the purchase was a valid one. And, it's from England. I'm from England! (Well, my grandfather was.) I also believe that it truly is old. (I'm old! How eerie is this?)

So ... does anyone have an idea just how old it is? And ...
Is there anyone out there who actually enjoys the pattern-writing part?

A Week in the Life ...

So ... what started out as a few sketches as I sat in waiting rooms in Seattle ....

... plus (almost) an entire week of my life since we returned ... ended up as this!

Finished* with less than 2 hours to spare before I head off to the Teacher's Meeting. It's kind of interesting, don't you think, that I plan to teach others how to make this quilt in 4 or 5 hours? So let me ask you this serious question (as opposed to the non-serious ones that I usually ask, but still want answers to):

When you sign up to take a class ... would you rather commit to a longer class time to be assured of getting more completed ... or does a shorter time grab your attention more, knowing you'll complete it at home anyway?

I seriously want to know.

*This is just the finished quilt top, mind you. Another lifetime will be spent in quilting, binding and attaching the knock-out doorknob.

Compulsive in Pink

So ... I'm not going with the obvious Molly-Ringwald-80's title. But I do think pink is pretty. And ... I seem to be driven to accumulate it lately. The above-pictured picture was a frame I picked up at a thrift store (for two bucks), and put some fabric behind and a sticker on.

These particular goodies were purchased as part of a hypnotic state I was in while at Michaels yesterday. You know that hypnotic state. The one that happens when you walk by those tower-thingies that are filled with ribbons at one buck per spool. And the other baskets around the corner that have a bunch of crap in them that also sells for a buck a pop. And you buy them because you can't ... not buy them.

Please, please tell me you have this same problem. (fyi: I can also have this malady at Target while perusing the "seasonal bins" by the front door.) Please tell me I am not going to be on Oprah some day as the crazy lady who can't get out her door because of all the ribbon.

For the record: I use the ribbon. Why, I used that very brand of ribbon to adorn my GiveAway packages. Also ... I had to get the little pink tin for my Miss Dub. Pink is her favorite color. Duh.

Also ... I throw away (in the recycled trash) my newspapers daily. Someone please tell that to Oprah before she heads my way.