>…history on the tree. This ornament is one Amigo made at summer camp several years ago. A juice lid, a nail, and a hammer, and a new ornament was born. Put two or three together and they make a wonderful wind chime.
Happy Love Thursday, everyone.
>She is stealing my heart. Sadie the new little bunny is weaseling her way — no, poor choice of words — she’s convincing us all to keep her. Most important of all, she’s convincing the Peanut bunny that she’s going to be his friend. She hasn’t sat still for a picture yet.
>That’s what the subject line read on my email last Friday afternoon. I immediately wondered what he’d done and why he might need to resort to flattery.
Here’s the rest:
“A bunny was the pet-saver segment (on the noon news) today. Sadie is 2 1/2 yrs old; same species as Tiny; family was moving and had to give her up; was an indoor family style bunny; more history yet to come from the shelter. She’s sitting on my desk here waiting for me to bring her home. I’ve got her for the weekend on a “trial” basis.
(Please don’t kill me)”
Ever since Beast died, the little Tiny one has seemed lonely. We’ve moved him into the house, but he and Peanut (the house bunny) didn’t hit it off. We gave up and moved Tiny into Amigo’s bedroom so he could roam the upstairs while Peanut roams the first floor. When we introduced the lovely Sadie, Tiny would have nothing to do with her, getting all territorial and feisty and resistant to having a new friend. We were surprised; Tiny has never been an “only” bunny. He’s always had Beast at his side. Since Tiny wouldn’t even give her a chance, we were discouraged. We set Sadie’s cage in the dining room.
Were we ever surprised when Peanut, our aggressive and often anti-social bunny, came over and sniffed at her. Sadie poked her head out of the cage, and they nuzzled. They’ve had a few moments of agitation, mostly setting limits for one another, but Sadie has allowed Peanut to be dominant bunny and has even shared her food with him. He has been more than tolerant, even friendly in his own furry little way. They began getting acquainted little by little, and we felt we could allow them to “hang out” in the dining room as long as someone was there to supervise.
Well, it’s Monday, and we’ve decided to extend the trial period for the remainder of the week. This has potential.
And Sadie’s awfully cute.
>You might be a Green Bay Packer Fan if your husband wears a pair of these Packer booty slippers when he’s relaxing on the couch.
As of today, Brett Favre has never lost in Monster Park (by any name). He is seven touchdown passes shy of reaching Dan Marino’s career record. But does he have a cute pair of slippers like this? I doubt it.
>The scars are still there, but we’re recovering.
Last year at this time, we were mired in a deep, dark murk that made us feel like we were slogging through an emotional swamp. I had injured my wrist attempting to start the snowblower, so I was in constant pain. Husband was working outrageous amounts of overtime because one of his co-workers, the one in charge of the football season specials, had broken a leg. On top of the overtime, he was working to get his commercial driving license as part of the back-up situation. We were preparing to bring La Petite home from college to get her wisdom teeth out, and Amigo was struggling in school — big time. My boss had drawn red concentric circles on my back, so I was constantly looking over my shoulder at work lest she take aim and fire.
The normal holiday efforts were coming along oh-so-slowly because we didn’t have time or energy to accomplish them. I put up a few indoor decorations with Amigo’s help. They didn’t look like much, but at least Santa or other visitors would know we’d tried. Husband put up some basic outdoor lights (yes, he was very, very careful on the ladder). Our tree was one of the last ones on the lot. It barely fit in the minivan because it was a bit odd-shaped. We dragged it into the house, threw on a few ornaments, and collapsed from exhaustion. Gifts? I’m not sure how we ever shopped and wrapped. Husband did most of his holiday shopping at the Packer Pro Shop because it was the only store he could get to in the craziness of his job.
It was the juggling act that all families face, but we were no longer juggling fruit. It felt more like juggling flaming swords. We didn’t sleep well, we suffered headaches, stomachaches, and all kinds of stress-related illnesses. We didn’t have enough time or stamina to deal with all we’d been handed.
A year ago, life was destined to get worse before it got better.
When I look at the challenges this year, they seem minor by comparison. However, I still feel a little nervous as we enter this “most wonderful time of the year”. I really enjoy the season, the music, the excitement, but a deeply buried part of me is leery of ever going through a winter like the last one.
>Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. Amigo ran Security for him in the local holiday parade in a very special cycle built for two. The other (the one who steered) was his adaptive physical education teacher. It was a little cold, but they kept warm by pedaling. Amigo was hoarse from shouting, “Happy Holidays!”
>
>Martha Stewart doesn’t live here. Let’s make that clear right off the bat. Once in a while I do something crafty, but that’s as far as it goes.
That said, Christmas is a tough time for someone who teaches environmental science and wants to walk the talk.
Take wrapping paper — please. It can’t be recycled, it can’t be burned in the fireplace, it doesn’t compost. The only reasonably “green” option is re-use. Skip it? Not unless I want “Scrooge” to be my middle name. Well, my family gets all over me about re-using wrapping paper.
“Mom, just rip it open! Hurry up! Why are you folding the paper? You don’t have to be so careful with the tape. Mom, it wasn’t expensive. Geez.”
I drive them crazy.
But this tendency to reduce, re-use, and recycle can come in handy. I take good care with the wrapping paper we do buy, re-using gift bags until they fall apart, saving the bows every year, and refusing to throw away the small pieces of wrap that seem useless. I said SEEM useless.
As I said before, I’m not Martha. No one would come into my house and think she lives here. But I am rather proud of these two presents. Using a strip of green shiny foil (too small for a box) and a batch of plain brown packaging paper that came with a cookbook, I made these two gifts look pretty. Pretty good, even. The tags are made from last year’s Christmas cards.
(haha, Petite one, the smaller package is for you!)
>You might be a Green Bay Packer fan if something like this adorns your shelves next to the Lambeau Legends DVD. Amigo calls this little guy Hank. La Petite calls him “hideous”. He sings (loudly) and dances. The song? The “All My Rowdy Friends” song from Monday Night Football, of course! 
>Disabilities are part of our family, our daily life, the little things, the big picture. Doctors’ offices? A familiar place, a comfortable setting. Amigo saw two doctors in two days last week. He noted the fact, but didn’t complain or think it was negative.
He’d been complaining of minor discomfort in his right ear. When he told me it was getting worse, that his ear hurt, I called the pediatrician’s office. Nine times out of ten when Amigo complains of ear pain, he has an infection. He is almost never wrong. Sure enough, his right ear was (as Dr. put it) “a prototypical infection”. Then she took one more step, and asked if we would allow the medical student to come in and take a look at it. Her logic was “This will give the student a chance to see a poster child for an ear infection, but in a child who will sit still.” Amigo is in his teens, and the medical student would get a good look at an infected ear without the squirming of a toddler or two-year-old. Amigo was personable and friendly with the medical student, discussed her alma mater’s basketball team, and showed her a perfectly infected eardrum.
The next day we headed to Children’s Hospital of Milwaukee for an annual check-up with the pediatric neurologist. She’s an amazing professional with incredible depths of knowledge about children and their brains and bodies. We discussed Amigo’s participation in a study, and she agreed that yes, his participation would be a good thing.
The only issue is money. This is no simple blood test. The cost estimate is around $1300. I am gathering my courage to call our insurance company. I’m certain they will say no; they really balked at the genetic counseling recommended for us. Next, I’ll apply for financial aid through the research center itself. Their forms, however, are on a web page still under construction.
I’ll keep at it. Project 3000, as the study is called, is an ambitious and worthwhile undertaking. We’ll do our part for Amigo’s sake and for the sake of others with this cause of blindness. Fortunately, doctors’ offices are familiar and comforting places for our family. That makes it, not easy, but at least a little less difficult.