I know the saying goes "today is the first day of the rest of my life", but I have to back up a wee bit and say that this past Saturday was the first day of the rest of my life.
I've something new in my life that I'm uber excited about. Dare I say, "in love"? Of course I'm excited and enthusiastic about it for the mere fact that it's something new. Will I still fill the same way in 1 week? 1 Month? 3 Months? I hope so, but only time will tell.
Excited, despite the fact that I'm somewhat sleep-deprived over this, and when I do sleep, I can't help but have dreams about it. My heart races, my face feels flushed, my thighs burn... okay, everyone get their thoughts out of the gutter!!
I'm not giving you details right now. Perhaps a teaser hint from time to time. I've decided to wait 3 months to let everyone in on my "new love". I've marked my calendar for May 2nd, that's 13 weeks from today, then, and only then, will I reveal my secret.
In the meantime, if you want to take a guess at what the big secret is, then by all means, guess away.
I'm writing a letter to myself and then I'm going to seal it in an envelope, which I'll open on May 2nd before I blog to you. In the letter, I'm going to remind myself how I feel today, what I want for my tomorrows and where I stand in life at that point.
Ta-ta for now!
Monday, January 31, 2011
Thursday, January 20, 2011
It's time once again...
It's THAT time again. That's right, time to shave my head and raise money for childhood cancer research. aka: St. Baldricks!!
As always, I would love to have others join me in going for the chrome-dome look, but if you're not that brave, then perhaps you might consider sponsoring me instead? No amount is too small.
You can either go to my website: http://www.stbaldricks.org/participants/mypage/participantid/418263
and donate on-line with a credit card or call the toll-free number listed on the site, or if you prefer to pay by check or cash, you can either download a donation form to send in or else give the funds to me and I'll hold on to it and turn the donation in at the big event.
This year, St. Baldricks is on Saturday, March 19th at the St. Albert the Great School.
Hope to see some of you there.
And I'd like to thank everyone in advance for their donation. :)
As always, I would love to have others join me in going for the chrome-dome look, but if you're not that brave, then perhaps you might consider sponsoring me instead? No amount is too small.
You can either go to my website: http://www.stbaldricks.org/participants/mypage/participantid/418263
and donate on-line with a credit card or call the toll-free number listed on the site, or if you prefer to pay by check or cash, you can either download a donation form to send in or else give the funds to me and I'll hold on to it and turn the donation in at the big event.
This year, St. Baldricks is on Saturday, March 19th at the St. Albert the Great School.
Hope to see some of you there.
And I'd like to thank everyone in advance for their donation. :)
What's new in my world
It's snowing. Again.
As much as I love the colder weather, even I'm getting a bit tired of the on again, off again snow cycles we're getting. I wondered aloud at riding lessons the other night if it wouldn't be better just to have one giant snow, (you know, 18 - 36" worth at once) and keep us all on lock-down at home for a couple of days, or this constant barrage of small storms which really don't hinder us, just make things annoying and messy.
U. of L. here I come! I'm going to school. Sort of.
Some of you may remember a couple of years ago I made a king-sized quilt from old flannel shirts. Sewn completely by hand. I love that quilt. It didn't turn out very even, and I've had to patch it a few times as a few seams have opened up after washing it. But regardless, it's kept me warm and I take satisfaction knowing I created it. Still, I've always wanted to learn quilting, the proper method that is. So I signed up for a beginners quilting class. It lasts 6 weeks and by the end of it, I should (emphasis on SHOULD) have a nice wall hanging, or so the ad in the course catalog promises. We'll see.
Only 42 days 'til the fights. WOO-HOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I learned yesterday that a close acquaintance was given less than a month to live. While I'm not particularly close (frienship-wise that is) to this person, he has still been a constant factor in my life for a number of years, and I'm sad that he'll soon be gone from our lives.
I often got aggravated with him for his old-fashioned (for lack of a nicer term) views of society. We agreed to disagree a long time ago on several topics. He is extremely homophobic and somehow several of us got into a rather loud and heated debate on the subject one afternoon. While neither I nor the woman that was sitting next to me are gay, after listening to him gay-bash and get on our last nerves, she and I just looked at each other and as if it had been planned out, we leaned over and pressed our lips together. It got the guy to shut up. I thought he was going to lose his lunch though. He just threw up his hands in disgust and the subject was changed. I wonder how he would feel if he new the male nurse that's caring for him now is gay???
I'm in a cooking slump. As much as I love cooking, I feel like I've gotten into a rut. I need to drag out my cookbooks and get inspired to try some new things. Anymore though, I want to eat almost as soon as I get home. Since we go to bed so early, I want to eat as early as possible, but by the time I cook a full mean, it's getting late into the evening. I suppose this is where my crockpot cooking would come in handy so that dinner would be ready when I walked in the door. Yes, I must dust off the crockpots and the cookbooks.
My favorite horse at the farm, Sampson, colicked over the weekend. Fortunately or maybe unfortunately(?) I wasn't there to witness it. I had had a luncheon with some of the girls I went to high school with (4 and a half hours we spent talking and laughing, we had a good time!). Anyway... I got a phone call late Saturday night from one of the girls I normally volunteer with on Saturday afternoons and she told me all about it. I listened with my breath held, fearing where the story was leading. Sampson was the one that colicked right after I started working at the farm and required emergency surgery to save his life. I feared with his medical history, I was going to be told he'd had to have surgery again (or worse). Fortunately, he just ended up being a bit constipated and the girls kept him walking and he finally passed the obstruction and was almost instantly better. On one hand, I wished I had been there to help, on the other, I know I'd have been going to pieces that my favorite boy was in distress.
I was also informed that there is a new horse at the farm. I can hardly wait to see her this weekend. She's a Percheron-quarter horse mix, of dapple gray coloring. Gray is my favorite color on a horse. If a gray horse is running in a race, I always root for the gray. Always!
I dressed for work this morning and had black shoes on. I needed to take Olivia out for a potty-break before I left for work and there was already snow on the ground, so I slipped off my shoes and pulled on my clunky farm boots. These boots are a pair of mens leather boots with thick rubber soles, brown, scuffed up, and caked with dried mud and manure around the seams. After I brought Liv back in, I went back out to clean the snow off my car. Back in the house, I put her in her crate, grabbed my purse and lunch, turned out the lights and went to work. Upon arrival at the office, I suddenly realized I'd left my black shoes at home. Crap!! Now I have to wear the manure-caked cluncky boots all day. I am stylin' now!!!!
Did I mention it's only 42 days 'til the fights?
As much as I love the colder weather, even I'm getting a bit tired of the on again, off again snow cycles we're getting. I wondered aloud at riding lessons the other night if it wouldn't be better just to have one giant snow, (you know, 18 - 36" worth at once) and keep us all on lock-down at home for a couple of days, or this constant barrage of small storms which really don't hinder us, just make things annoying and messy.
U. of L. here I come! I'm going to school. Sort of.
Some of you may remember a couple of years ago I made a king-sized quilt from old flannel shirts. Sewn completely by hand. I love that quilt. It didn't turn out very even, and I've had to patch it a few times as a few seams have opened up after washing it. But regardless, it's kept me warm and I take satisfaction knowing I created it. Still, I've always wanted to learn quilting, the proper method that is. So I signed up for a beginners quilting class. It lasts 6 weeks and by the end of it, I should (emphasis on SHOULD) have a nice wall hanging, or so the ad in the course catalog promises. We'll see.
Only 42 days 'til the fights. WOO-HOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I learned yesterday that a close acquaintance was given less than a month to live. While I'm not particularly close (frienship-wise that is) to this person, he has still been a constant factor in my life for a number of years, and I'm sad that he'll soon be gone from our lives.
I often got aggravated with him for his old-fashioned (for lack of a nicer term) views of society. We agreed to disagree a long time ago on several topics. He is extremely homophobic and somehow several of us got into a rather loud and heated debate on the subject one afternoon. While neither I nor the woman that was sitting next to me are gay, after listening to him gay-bash and get on our last nerves, she and I just looked at each other and as if it had been planned out, we leaned over and pressed our lips together. It got the guy to shut up. I thought he was going to lose his lunch though. He just threw up his hands in disgust and the subject was changed. I wonder how he would feel if he new the male nurse that's caring for him now is gay???
I'm in a cooking slump. As much as I love cooking, I feel like I've gotten into a rut. I need to drag out my cookbooks and get inspired to try some new things. Anymore though, I want to eat almost as soon as I get home. Since we go to bed so early, I want to eat as early as possible, but by the time I cook a full mean, it's getting late into the evening. I suppose this is where my crockpot cooking would come in handy so that dinner would be ready when I walked in the door. Yes, I must dust off the crockpots and the cookbooks.
My favorite horse at the farm, Sampson, colicked over the weekend. Fortunately or maybe unfortunately(?) I wasn't there to witness it. I had had a luncheon with some of the girls I went to high school with (4 and a half hours we spent talking and laughing, we had a good time!). Anyway... I got a phone call late Saturday night from one of the girls I normally volunteer with on Saturday afternoons and she told me all about it. I listened with my breath held, fearing where the story was leading. Sampson was the one that colicked right after I started working at the farm and required emergency surgery to save his life. I feared with his medical history, I was going to be told he'd had to have surgery again (or worse). Fortunately, he just ended up being a bit constipated and the girls kept him walking and he finally passed the obstruction and was almost instantly better. On one hand, I wished I had been there to help, on the other, I know I'd have been going to pieces that my favorite boy was in distress.
I was also informed that there is a new horse at the farm. I can hardly wait to see her this weekend. She's a Percheron-quarter horse mix, of dapple gray coloring. Gray is my favorite color on a horse. If a gray horse is running in a race, I always root for the gray. Always!
I dressed for work this morning and had black shoes on. I needed to take Olivia out for a potty-break before I left for work and there was already snow on the ground, so I slipped off my shoes and pulled on my clunky farm boots. These boots are a pair of mens leather boots with thick rubber soles, brown, scuffed up, and caked with dried mud and manure around the seams. After I brought Liv back in, I went back out to clean the snow off my car. Back in the house, I put her in her crate, grabbed my purse and lunch, turned out the lights and went to work. Upon arrival at the office, I suddenly realized I'd left my black shoes at home. Crap!! Now I have to wear the manure-caked cluncky boots all day. I am stylin' now!!!!
Did I mention it's only 42 days 'til the fights?
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
The Ultimate...!!
By now it is no secret I've become waaaay beyond being obsessed with watching MMA fights, more specifically, UFC fights. My vcr is forever recording fights that I watch during my down time, even those those fights that I've seen countless times and know the outcome of.
I love the sport for soooo many reasons...
I love the technical maneuvering that so many possess and are able to manipulate their opponents into position. And despite often cringing when I see someone being submitted by leg or arm bar, I'm still amazed at the technique, and find myself sitting on the edge of my seat, holding my breath waiting to see if that person will "tap out" (same as a child crying "uncle" in defeat) or if they have the heart and determination to try and resist, only to either black-out from a rear-naked choke or end up with a broken arm/leg for their efforts, or a broken orbital socket from 25 minutes of pounding abuse. I never fail to be amazed at the abuse the human body can take and still walk away. How some fighters take punch after punch to the head and still smile at their opponent, yet others fall to the ground unconscious from a single, well landed punch. Sometimes the abuse they receive could be considered, at times, insane because they could have throw in the towel and prevented the damage, and yet, by that same token, you have to admire the heart and determination they show for withstanding the abuse, all in an effort to achieve their dream of some day being called #1. The best of the best. The champion.
I learned a few weeks ago that the UFC would finally be coming to an arena near me. You can bet your sweet bippy I was on-line in the blink of an eye looking for tickets. Fortunately, they hadn't gone on sale yet. I had post-it notes stuck all over the place, the alarm set on my watch and my cell-phone so I wouldn't forget. Actually I had them set for 5 minutes before sale time so I could get to the website and get in to position to purchase.
I was all set to have front row seats in the upper level (the good seats on the floor were sold at the pre-sale for an extra $75 membership, but I'm not quite that crazy... yet), but wouldn't you know it, a customer walked in, then another, and since I was all alone, I had to be the one to deal with them. By the time I got back to the computer, the purchase had timed-out and I had to start over, and now have to make do with the 2nd row. Darn it!!
Regardless, I have 2 tix in my grubby little paws and I will be there!!!!!!!! If all goes well, I want to go to the weigh-ins the day before as well.
I've started decorating my office with UFC stuff. I acquired the poster from UFC 124. Of course, I can't have two men on my wall wearing nothing but shorts, with their bare chests exposed, so I had to play "paper dolls" and cut out paper t-shirts to tape over them so nobody would be offended. And I've got countless pix of some of my favorite fighters on my cell phone, UFC pix now out-number pix of my beloved pooches.
I have my personal favorites among the fighters, and of course those that I despise for whatever reason. It's hard when two guys end up fighting and I like them both, hard to chose sides that is. Sometimes I just have to flip a coin. Sometimes I just have to end up choosing which one is better looking or else has the fewest tattoes (a major turn-off for me).
Some fighters are ugly as homemade sin or only average looking, but they are gifted athletes and I enjoy watching them compete. Others are drop dead gorgeous, with the exception of their cauliflower-ears which gross me out &/or their tattoes, which again, I have to try and look beyond. Some have great bodies but they suck at fighting either because of poor technique/skill or poor cardio, while others are flabby around the middle, yet they possess strength or just plain ol' talent.
As I said, I enjoy watching it for many, many reasons. But even if my next reason never won a fight, couldn't take a punch, couldn't ever submit an opponent, etc., etc., I would still watch him fight, just because...
All I can say is: DAMN!!!!
I love the sport for soooo many reasons...
I love the technical maneuvering that so many possess and are able to manipulate their opponents into position. And despite often cringing when I see someone being submitted by leg or arm bar, I'm still amazed at the technique, and find myself sitting on the edge of my seat, holding my breath waiting to see if that person will "tap out" (same as a child crying "uncle" in defeat) or if they have the heart and determination to try and resist, only to either black-out from a rear-naked choke or end up with a broken arm/leg for their efforts, or a broken orbital socket from 25 minutes of pounding abuse. I never fail to be amazed at the abuse the human body can take and still walk away. How some fighters take punch after punch to the head and still smile at their opponent, yet others fall to the ground unconscious from a single, well landed punch. Sometimes the abuse they receive could be considered, at times, insane because they could have throw in the towel and prevented the damage, and yet, by that same token, you have to admire the heart and determination they show for withstanding the abuse, all in an effort to achieve their dream of some day being called #1. The best of the best. The champion.
I learned a few weeks ago that the UFC would finally be coming to an arena near me. You can bet your sweet bippy I was on-line in the blink of an eye looking for tickets. Fortunately, they hadn't gone on sale yet. I had post-it notes stuck all over the place, the alarm set on my watch and my cell-phone so I wouldn't forget. Actually I had them set for 5 minutes before sale time so I could get to the website and get in to position to purchase.
I was all set to have front row seats in the upper level (the good seats on the floor were sold at the pre-sale for an extra $75 membership, but I'm not quite that crazy... yet), but wouldn't you know it, a customer walked in, then another, and since I was all alone, I had to be the one to deal with them. By the time I got back to the computer, the purchase had timed-out and I had to start over, and now have to make do with the 2nd row. Darn it!!
Regardless, I have 2 tix in my grubby little paws and I will be there!!!!!!!! If all goes well, I want to go to the weigh-ins the day before as well.
I've started decorating my office with UFC stuff. I acquired the poster from UFC 124. Of course, I can't have two men on my wall wearing nothing but shorts, with their bare chests exposed, so I had to play "paper dolls" and cut out paper t-shirts to tape over them so nobody would be offended. And I've got countless pix of some of my favorite fighters on my cell phone, UFC pix now out-number pix of my beloved pooches.
I have my personal favorites among the fighters, and of course those that I despise for whatever reason. It's hard when two guys end up fighting and I like them both, hard to chose sides that is. Sometimes I just have to flip a coin. Sometimes I just have to end up choosing which one is better looking or else has the fewest tattoes (a major turn-off for me).
Some fighters are ugly as homemade sin or only average looking, but they are gifted athletes and I enjoy watching them compete. Others are drop dead gorgeous, with the exception of their cauliflower-ears which gross me out &/or their tattoes, which again, I have to try and look beyond. Some have great bodies but they suck at fighting either because of poor technique/skill or poor cardio, while others are flabby around the middle, yet they possess strength or just plain ol' talent.
As I said, I enjoy watching it for many, many reasons. But even if my next reason never won a fight, couldn't take a punch, couldn't ever submit an opponent, etc., etc., I would still watch him fight, just because...
All I can say is: DAMN!!!!
Judging a book by it's cover
While at the store last night, I passed thru the book section on my way to the photo-lab. Out of the corner of my eye, the cover of a book caught my attention and I couldn't help but pause for a nano-second to look closer. The cover made me smile, but I kept going. As I was leaving the photo-lab, I again passed thru the book department and again the cover of that book seemed to leap out at me, even though I wasn't looking at books (at least, not consiously). This time, I had to come to a full stop and pick the book up.
On the cover was the picture of a Great Dane, ears au natural, muzzle and mask peppered with gray hairs. It bore a very striking resemblance to my Eliott.
Any book that has a Great Dane on the cover can't be bad, and to have such a sweet face on it, it must make for good reading, right?
Not!!
Normally when you hear the phrase "Don't judge a book by it's cover", someone is telling you to not be critical of something based on it's appearance until you've taken the time to read it or gotten to know it. In my case, I was doing just the opposite. I was judging it to be good based on the cover.
I was expecting it to either be a story (fictional or otherwise) about a Great Dane, or maybe a collection of anecdotes about some dog's adventures. This book was neither.
It's basically some scientist that fancies herself a dog expert rambling on about why dogs act the way they do and how they developed from the wolf and other canine relatives. **YAWN!!**
In fact, I'm on page 60 and so far, the Great Dane was mentioned only one time. I'm having a really hard time maintaining interest.
I have found myself jotting down my own comments in the margins: she obviously never witnessed my dogs in their day-to-day lives, or the way my "kids" interact with one another.
All I can say is this: 1) I learned a valuable lesson about not buying a book in the future, based on what's on the cover. Otherwise, all writers could start putting pictures of cute Great Danes on their covers and I'd be buying every book I saw, regardless of it's topic. and 2) my advice to others out there, don't waste your time and money purchasing "Inside Of A Dog, What Dogs See, Smell, And Know" by Alexandra Horowitz. The book sucks!
On the cover was the picture of a Great Dane, ears au natural, muzzle and mask peppered with gray hairs. It bore a very striking resemblance to my Eliott.
Any book that has a Great Dane on the cover can't be bad, and to have such a sweet face on it, it must make for good reading, right?
Not!!
Normally when you hear the phrase "Don't judge a book by it's cover", someone is telling you to not be critical of something based on it's appearance until you've taken the time to read it or gotten to know it. In my case, I was doing just the opposite. I was judging it to be good based on the cover.
I was expecting it to either be a story (fictional or otherwise) about a Great Dane, or maybe a collection of anecdotes about some dog's adventures. This book was neither.
It's basically some scientist that fancies herself a dog expert rambling on about why dogs act the way they do and how they developed from the wolf and other canine relatives. **YAWN!!**
In fact, I'm on page 60 and so far, the Great Dane was mentioned only one time. I'm having a really hard time maintaining interest.
I have found myself jotting down my own comments in the margins: she obviously never witnessed my dogs in their day-to-day lives, or the way my "kids" interact with one another.
All I can say is this: 1) I learned a valuable lesson about not buying a book in the future, based on what's on the cover. Otherwise, all writers could start putting pictures of cute Great Danes on their covers and I'd be buying every book I saw, regardless of it's topic. and 2) my advice to others out there, don't waste your time and money purchasing "Inside Of A Dog, What Dogs See, Smell, And Know" by Alexandra Horowitz. The book sucks!
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Her first day at her new "job"
My fur-baby, Olivia, started her new job this week.
She is now on the "calendar of events" at the local nursing home and is listed as "Leashes of Love", scheduled to visit twice a month.
I brought her to work with me yesterday since there was no visitation or funerals scheduled, and she behaved very well, spending most of her time stretched out on a comforter by the radiator in my office. I had hung a curtain in the doorless doorway of my office to prevent her from seeing anyone coming up the stairwell, and put a small doggy-gate across the doorway to keep her confined to my office. The gate served it's purpose, but she's no dummy. It only took her one push of the nose to figure out how to push the curtain aside so she could see what was going on outside my office.
Of course she can't hear anything, and even when she had her back to the doorway and couldn't see my boss, her nose immediately detected whenever he was nearby, and she would instantly start growling very low. She never did this to anyone else, just him. What can I say, my kid doesn't like my boss. Or else she just doesn't like his nicotine odor that follows him everywhere he goes, which I can totally understand, 'cause I don't either.
We arrived at the nursing home just before 3pm and Livvie was an immediate hit. Word of her arrival spread like wildfire throughtout the facility. Many workers left their areas to come and seek out the big, beautiful, white dog, and every time we turned down a new hall, workers and patients alike were eagerly awaiting our visit. Well, okay, they were eagerly awaiting OLIVIA'S visit, I'm sure they could've cared less about me, but we are a package deal.
At one point, it looked as if Olivia had her own entourage, as a small group of 4 or 5 nurses were crowded around her and followed us from room to room. At another point, I commented that it was almost like an assembly line as they were lined up in the hallway to pet Liv as she walked past.
There was only one patient that wanted absolutely nothing to do with Olivia and refused to even walk down the hallway with us standing there, so we stepped back and allowed her to pass. Even the patients that didn't necessarily want to pet her at least invited us in and they admired her. But most seemed overjoyed and delighted at her visit, many petted her, some tried but were physically unable to raise their hands, but their smiles said it all. I placed a small treat into the palm of a few patients and allowed them to feed Olivia, and one lady was just so excited that she had gotten to feed her. Another room we visited, the first lady insisted I wake up her roommate that was dozing in a wheelchair as she knew she'd enjoy seeing Liv, even predicting what she'd say. I truly hesitated about waking anyone up, as I wouldn't want them to go in to cardiac arrest at waking up and seeing a giant dog staring them down. The woman couldn't hear me as I tried to wake her, and I feared she was already dead. Her roommate told me she was hard of hearing and I'd have to either shout or shake her. I really didn't want to do either, and gently touched her on the shoulder. The second time I touched her, she lifted her head and the moment she opened her eyes and saw Olivia, her face just lit up, and she did indeed exclaim the exact phrase her roommate had predicted.
I only had one room that we visited that I had a hard time being in there, and tried to keep my eyes averted. We didn't linger too long in any one room, if for no other reason than the heat was turned up so high in most rooms that it was stuffy. But the facility was very clean, and I was never bothered by odors.
After we had finished the final wing and we had made our way back towards the entry hall, a crowd had gathered, most of them were workers from the front office &/or dining hall. Livvie posed for her picture several times and took a bow for the crowd to thank them for allowing us to visit.
We're scheduled to go back in two weeks and look forward to our next visit. :)
She is now on the "calendar of events" at the local nursing home and is listed as "Leashes of Love", scheduled to visit twice a month.
I brought her to work with me yesterday since there was no visitation or funerals scheduled, and she behaved very well, spending most of her time stretched out on a comforter by the radiator in my office. I had hung a curtain in the doorless doorway of my office to prevent her from seeing anyone coming up the stairwell, and put a small doggy-gate across the doorway to keep her confined to my office. The gate served it's purpose, but she's no dummy. It only took her one push of the nose to figure out how to push the curtain aside so she could see what was going on outside my office.
Of course she can't hear anything, and even when she had her back to the doorway and couldn't see my boss, her nose immediately detected whenever he was nearby, and she would instantly start growling very low. She never did this to anyone else, just him. What can I say, my kid doesn't like my boss. Or else she just doesn't like his nicotine odor that follows him everywhere he goes, which I can totally understand, 'cause I don't either.
We arrived at the nursing home just before 3pm and Livvie was an immediate hit. Word of her arrival spread like wildfire throughtout the facility. Many workers left their areas to come and seek out the big, beautiful, white dog, and every time we turned down a new hall, workers and patients alike were eagerly awaiting our visit. Well, okay, they were eagerly awaiting OLIVIA'S visit, I'm sure they could've cared less about me, but we are a package deal.
At one point, it looked as if Olivia had her own entourage, as a small group of 4 or 5 nurses were crowded around her and followed us from room to room. At another point, I commented that it was almost like an assembly line as they were lined up in the hallway to pet Liv as she walked past.
There was only one patient that wanted absolutely nothing to do with Olivia and refused to even walk down the hallway with us standing there, so we stepped back and allowed her to pass. Even the patients that didn't necessarily want to pet her at least invited us in and they admired her. But most seemed overjoyed and delighted at her visit, many petted her, some tried but were physically unable to raise their hands, but their smiles said it all. I placed a small treat into the palm of a few patients and allowed them to feed Olivia, and one lady was just so excited that she had gotten to feed her. Another room we visited, the first lady insisted I wake up her roommate that was dozing in a wheelchair as she knew she'd enjoy seeing Liv, even predicting what she'd say. I truly hesitated about waking anyone up, as I wouldn't want them to go in to cardiac arrest at waking up and seeing a giant dog staring them down. The woman couldn't hear me as I tried to wake her, and I feared she was already dead. Her roommate told me she was hard of hearing and I'd have to either shout or shake her. I really didn't want to do either, and gently touched her on the shoulder. The second time I touched her, she lifted her head and the moment she opened her eyes and saw Olivia, her face just lit up, and she did indeed exclaim the exact phrase her roommate had predicted.
I only had one room that we visited that I had a hard time being in there, and tried to keep my eyes averted. We didn't linger too long in any one room, if for no other reason than the heat was turned up so high in most rooms that it was stuffy. But the facility was very clean, and I was never bothered by odors.
After we had finished the final wing and we had made our way back towards the entry hall, a crowd had gathered, most of them were workers from the front office &/or dining hall. Livvie posed for her picture several times and took a bow for the crowd to thank them for allowing us to visit.
We're scheduled to go back in two weeks and look forward to our next visit. :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)