Maybe they shouldn't have even bothered to make it, but I liked it . . . lots. It had Russell Crowe and Cate Blanchett in it for Heaven's sake.
Robin Hood has hardly had any buzz that I've heard of, but then I've been out of the loop pretty much, but I thought it was great. Some say it gets a little slow in spots, but I don't and besides, it's beautiful.
I don't think it's a spoiler, either, that they say at the end "And so the story begins." It's a prequel.
It's little weird that Marian does get involved in a major battle for England and some other odd turns of history, but since when is Robin Hood history?
And BTW, it's good to be back! My computer has been rather down lately, and so have I, so I felt more like just sitting, or laying about, than thinking and typing for the past two weeks. You know how that can go.
I've decided something this week, this week of fire and rain.
It's that you don't have to be afraid of growing old. And I'm talking to all of you. Denying it doesn't change the fact that you're a little scared.
Growing old does have its downsides, its true. You get infirm, you get wrinkly and sick and not quite so hot, maybe. But that's not it.
During this week, Carl and I have shared four hospital emergency room visits, three hospital admissions and I've had two ambulance rides.
Carl had an obstructive 6 x 3-1/2 mm kidney stone. It was his 4th. It was horribly painful and he was panicky for pain medicine. Carl has drunk little carbonation, little ice cream which he was told caused them. His doctor, Dr. Hibbert, says he's just a "producer" trying not to chuckle in the face of Carl's pain.
I had a little "chest discomfort", went to my heart doctor for some comfort and was slam-dunked into the hospital for a battery of tests, maybe six. I was released but then had a pseudoaneurysm from one of the tests which returned me to the hospital a second time for pressure against my femoral artery which felt like a bowling ball pressed against me by a means of a gorilla for about six hours.
All this, I think, because a small cadre of bozos insist on suing doctors for who aren't thorough to the nth degree. But who's complaining about the system here?
I learn the results of the tests Friday.
But back to the point! Here it is:
You know how you like to be you most of the time? That feeling persists at least until you are sixty-eight! Isn't that good news?
I went job-hunting on the day after my birthday! (I'm sick of retirement.) I'm not kidding. I got out of the hospital on Wednesday night, got up bright-eyed and ready for action on Thursday and went off to the Job Corps, (or whatever it's called) and filled out an application listing my accomplishments for the past 100 years and had a blast. I also qualified for "Mayor of The District" on Foursquare in the meantime. I felt exhilaration like none other.
Yes, the downside was that I popped my femoral artery a little later in the day, and I ended up in another ambulance heading from Riverton Hospital to the Hospital on 53rd, but I took great pride in the EMT guy's complimenting me on my terrific ability to keep myself oxygenated. Remember I did have sinus surgery three weeks ago and I only had twenty-thirty per-cent ability to breathe back them. I'm a great breather now!
I'm pleased to note that through it all from when I first remember to now, there have been some bad patches, but it's always been good to be me. Sure it's been sucky sometimes, but when those times have passed I always remember, I like who I am, It's been fun.
Trust me. If you like you now, you'll like you later. There'll be moments, of course. Don't be scared. It's a fun ride!
Didja know that Uganda is over 8,000 miles from Utah and that Norway is probably over 4,000 miles from here. The year of the Tiger comes up every twelve years and matters to the Ross family. And did you know that the Himalayan Restaurant is something right downtown in Salt Lake City and that the magical Tenaj Matovu and Eric Ross chose that spot for their wedding dinner simply because they like the food and their invitees simply because of their jolliness? I'm sure of it. Because you certainly can't figure out much of a pattern in anything else.
We had so much fun.
Wendy is from Salem, Massachusetts so we're pretty sure she's a witch. Her son is Henry. He was there. The Norwegians were represented by Jon Ravneng, a crazed Viking who is seriously challenged melanin-wize and his beautiful wife, Bente, their daughter, Mija and her interesting husband whose name I missed. Sorry. Bobacar, from Kenya sat by us as well. He fits in because his wife knows me (!) from Sandy and Janet.
Janet's family is not melanin-challenged and are originally from Uganda. Currently they are from the Eastern United States. They are lots of fun and seemed to think we are okay too though Janet noted we paler types do seem to resemble one another. We took no major personal affront. Janet's whole family was there except for Janet's father who is still a little out-of-sorts because Eric is a little too pale for his liking, but no one seems to think that will last too much longer. He remains in Uganda.
Then there's Eric's family, all of whom seemed to enjoy the whole event immensely as well and, surprisingly, as another exciting note, Eric's younger sister was in one of my seminary classes at Brighton about fifteen years ago! I love the smallness of this world! It was really a great event.
And to make the whole thing wonderful, Janet now lives downtown at the Belvedere which means she can join the out-to-lunch bunch.
I really think the United Nations could learn a think or two from Janet and Eric. Get people together who like each other, who laugh together and have fun together, and just let everyone else just stay home.
How could they lose?
Pictured above are Eric, in a traditional Ugandan marriage outfit, Janet, also in a Ugandan marriage outfit, Bente and Mija. Next my crazy former student, Jon, and one of Janet's brothers, Moses, I believe. finally is Janet's mother. This photo does not do her justice. Jon took the picture and did not do a very good job of it. But all is forgiven. It was his first and only attempt.
All of us can use a little help. The following link is one that will send periodic nags that will remind you and me to do various things at various times -- water the plants, practice the piano, take medication, call someone, return a library book, who knows? It's kinda nice. Can't we all use someting like this? http://www.stumbleupon.com/su/1hHCGF/www.hassleme.co.uk/
The following is one I use every day. I really developed some sloppy scripture-reading habits after I retired until I found this link and then good old OCD kicked in and every day I get to check off my reading. If I forget, they remind me I haven't read for a day or two and I'd better snap it up or else. They really don't do anything, but I get concerned about the scripture police. They have all kinds of programs going on, including Sunday School, Relief Society, etc., and keep track of what you've read so you can look at what you've done and feel just wonderful about yourself. It's just a dandy thing. Don't get prideful. That's the only caveat. http://www.readthescriptures.com/
Sandy Walton Nelson is a former student of mine I've kept in touch with on Facebook. If not for FB, I'd be clueless as to where she even is I'd bet, and wouldn't that be a loss?
She is, incidentally, a little farmer girl with a family in Wyoming who is hilarious.
She used to come in and talk to me on occasion at LDS Business College and I'd love talking to her. And I now love hearing about her and her adventures online. She's a treasure. She has wild adventures with chickens and children. She also blogs.
Breathtaking Monday at 10:39pm
"Life isn't about how many breaths you take...it's about how many moments take your breath away." Anonymous
Today I had a moment like this. The kids were running around and every now and then, one of them would run up and say, "I love you, mommy" and then run away to do something else. After each time this happened, Celeste would come over and go "mmmmmah" and say her little renditon of "I love you"! She loves giving kisses, and today wasn't any different. Each time the kids would run by, Tyler, who was sitting on the other side of the room playing by himself quietly, would look over and grin, and then go back to playing. One particular time, Terra was the one who came and told me she loved me, gave me a hug and then ran out of the room, little sister in tow. So, Tyler took this opportunity to come over, crawl onto my lap, give me a great big hug, and say, "I wub oo, Mom!" And then he nestled right back down in my lap until he decided he was done being held, and then he ran out of the room to go play too. Most parents wouldn't bat an eye at this simple phrase. I, however, was moved to sobbing tears immediately. This is the first time in his LIFE that he has said those words to me. He's 3 years old and he's just now beginning to say them. I cry still thinking about it. The joy that I feel at this moment makes all those trials, dealing with therapy sessions gone wrong and just plain wanting to give up on it altogether, WELL worth while. I told his Pre-School teacher, Miss Kirsten, about it and she cried with me. This is such a huge step for him and it just shows all the progress he's been making. I can't wait to hear what else this little guy has to say. I have a feeling he's got a lot bottled up in there and just can't wait to spill it all out!
So, tonight as I lay here in bed, getting ready for sleep to take me, I am basking in the feeling of being a mom...but not just any mom, I'm Tyler's mom - the proudest mom out there!
It would appear that the press got it wrong on this one.
Remember the reports of Bret Michaels and his "massive stroke"?
Years ago, I had a friend who had an anyeurism at age twenty-six and it took him two years to start to walk and talk and still to this day, maybe forty-five years later, he has little short-term memory. Tough stuff, that. Brutal. Essentially, a "massive stroke."
Then there was my Dad who had a "massive stroke" and never was able to walk, talk or function with any degree of productive movement.
Then I start hearing that Bret Michals is walking, talking, blogging, doing the Funky Chicken and I'm thinking "Have they made enormous strides in stroke treatment or is Bret Michaels really the Golden Child?" I'm glad he's doing well, don't misinterpret me, here. But this is too amazing.
So I called my close pal, and neighbor, Dr. Paul Hansen and undoubtedly former Primary class participant who gave me the following information:
He actually knows the doctor who was on duty when Mr. Bret Michaels came into the hospital and talked to him the other night! Yes. Yes. You know the right people. (I mean me, you fools.)
Mr. Bret Michaels actually drove his Bentley, parked it himself and walked into the hospital under his own steam, not complaining of the "worst headache of his life" but of what was like a pulled muscle in his neck. The doctor just decided to do a CT scan "just in case". He was having no balance or speech problems or other classic symptoms of a stroke.
But it was discovered he did have some bleeding from the brain stem but probably not much.
Paul got no diagnosis from his friend, but he said it certainly didn't sound like a "massive stroke" with lots of bleeding going on inside, and certainly not with much, if any damage.
I asked him about repairs, which never take place until after things are stabilized and he said that they probably had taken place by now and the drop in sodium which can cause seizures was probably put together by the press on the internet without much hospital input.
You know what? I don't think the hospital had to tell the press much at all. I think that what they had been told was too boring so they ran with all the drama that popped into their own little heads.
Is there improvement in stroke treatment over the last forty, twenty years? Guess not really much.
Paul and I also wondered whether Bret Michaels is just really lucky or . . . if God might like to hear a just little more Poison. Hmmmm. Who's to say?
I LOVE the internet. Look what I found. Here's what nasal splints look like. Perhaps like the very jobs that I carried around in my beezer for almost a week and which were removed just yesterday. Felt a little more like little burrs being removed, I might observe. Little, gucky burrs, but I'm still very glad about the whole thing.
I felt like leaping in the air, clicking my heels (figuratively, of course) and swallowing and swallowing, over and over again, to sense the glorious, well, I won't go on so that you won't be offended by how wonderful I feel.
I wanted Dr. Finlayson to show me all the resplendent guckiness but he said it would make me sick. But it wouldn't. It would represent all of the yuckiness going away. I wanted to paw through his garbage but that would have made him AND Carl sick, so I didn't.
So here I am on the other side, glad I did it all. I've felt a little dizzy today and I presume that's the hyperventilation, so I just stop breathing for a minute. I also listen to myself NOT breathing. For the first time in my life I actually cannot hear myself breathe. It's amazing. There's not a hint of a sinus headache and I can blow my nose -- gently of course -- but I can blow my nose. And there is less and less and less stuff. Sorry all you guys with weak stomaches but pretty soon I'll be like you. Noooo stuff. And I'll be able to afford being disgusted at the slightest sight of nasal emission too!
Retired teacher, MaEd Counseling, Married, two adult sons, one fabulous daughter-in-law, two granddaughters. Trying like crazy to make something of retirement. I love getting up at 9AM and love hanging out wherever and whenever I choose, but I'm trying to add meaning. Meaning. Isn't that what we're all after?