Traveling with Diabetes

Since I was diagnosed in January, I haven't eaten out a whole lot.  Mostly because I can't have any sugar, bread, rice, pasta or potatoes.  I also have to be very careful what kind of fruit I eat as well, dammit.

 

The biggest problem seems to be a side effect of the meds I'm taking.  The smell of cooking meat makes me ill.  It doesn't matter what it is...bacon, pork, steak...I can't walk past the deli of my grocery store (where they roast and fry chicken) without wanting to retch. 

 

I guess the upside to that is that it's easy to keep the weight off.  I'm now on the low side of normal for my height.  In fact, my doctor wants me to lose MORE so that I'm on the low low side of normal.

 

I said, "you have GOT to be sh*tting me!"  Alas, no.  Supposedly it will help the diabetes, because I'm on the brink of needing insulin vs. the pills that I'm taking. 

 

But where is it going to come from?

 

Seriously, there ain't nothing left.  I have absolutely no fat on my legs, my butt, my hips or my stomach.  Well, there's probably about 10 pounds of excess skin all over, but that will take about a year to go back as much as it's going to go back.  And he isn't willing to count that.

 

The only thing I have left is boobs.  I'm a C-cup for the first time since I was 12.  If I lose any more weight, it's all going to come from there.  Then I'll have two empty sacks I can toss over my shoulders and wear like a mink stole.

 

Hubby and I went to a ski resort for a conference he had to attend.  I got to have some time alone sans kids and dogs which was wonderful.  I brought some food in a cooler that I'm allowed to eat, just in case I had trouble finding something suitable.

 

Anyhoodie, there's a big outlet complex nearby that I was excited to visit, because at that point, I only had 2 pairs of pants that fit and 3 tops.  For the first time in a very very long time, I'm able to wear regular sizes.

 

I ate breakfast at about 7am and headed off.  You can't park in the complex, so there is a lot of walking involved.  I shopped at a few places, bought a couple of fabulous outfits, and walked around for about 3 and a half hours, not really being aware of the time.

 

I went back to the hotel around 1, and as I was walking down the hall to my room, suddenly I face-planted myself and flailed around on the floor.  There was no strength in my legs whatsoever.  WTF?

 

Got myself to my room, and realized I was suddenly starting to feel really ill.  I had also cut my hand somehow and was bleeding all over this nice upholstered chair.  Gah!  I took my blood sugar and it was 70.  Holy crap!

 

After I got something to eat and stopped the bleeding, I grabbed a washcloth and scrubbed the seat cushion on the chair.  Figured that if I didn't get it all out, I could always flip the cushion.

 

I did it experimentally and yikes!  It looked like someone had sacrificed a chicken on the other side.  There was a brown/red splotch the size of a salad plate with spatter.  Did somebody get murdered in there?  And this was supposed to be such a nice place!  ;-) 

 

I scrubbed harder and got all the blood out.  Unless of course, CSI came looking.

 

It is really HARD to find stuff to eat when you're on the road.  I ended up eating practically nothing but soup and salad the whole trip.  But now I have a couple of pieces of candy in the car just in case my blood sugar drops again.

 

So much to learn...

Making Love Last

A friend of mine is getting married soon.  She's in her late 30's, and this is her first (and hopefully last) marriage.

It's not that she put her career first, or that she had a long unreasonable list of traits that she insisted a prospective mate should have.  She's always been looking for "Mr. Right" and never wanted to settle for "Mr. Right Now".  Her parents have been married for over 40 years, and she's longed to find a partner she could spend her entire life with.  She's finally found the man who fits the bill.

We were talking a couple of weeks ago about the upcoming nuptials, and out of the blue she said, "You know, Atilla, you're the only friend I have who is still married and crazy in love with her husband after a zillion years together.  Got any tips?"

First I was flabbergasted.  That has got to be one of the very nicest things anybody has ever said to me.  I told her I'd think about it and get back to her.

Hubby and I went out of town last week for a few days to a conference he had to attend (more on that in another post) and on the drive we talked about it.  He was also very flattered to hear my friend's opinion about our relationship.  We've been together for 21 years---most of my adult life!----and he wanted to hear what I came up with.  I discarded all the trite advice, like "never go to bed mad at each other" (What BS.  Quite a few times over the years I've gone to bed wanting to rip his face off). 

This is what I narrowed it down to:

1.  No matter how mad you get, never EVER call each other names.  It's one thing to say I'm being bitchy, it's another to call me a bitch.  Over the years, Hubby and I have been the unfortunate witnesses to a few spats between partners, most notably the Aspiring Adult and his last long-term girlfriend.  You would not believe the things they called each other when arguing! Gah!

This is supposed to be the person you love more than anyone else in the world.  Yeah, we all get mad at each other from time to time, but how can you look tenderly into the eyes of a person who called you a piece of sh*t?  Seriously?  How do you do that?

2.  Never make your beloved look stupid in public or make jokes at his/her expense.  Too many times we've been at functions where spouses have "jokingly" said unkind things about their mates.  One guy, when asked about his wife's recent serious illness made a snarky comment about her being too sick to bathe and how her body funk put a hurting on his nose.  He thought he was being funny and making light of a truly scary situation, but really, how humiliating for his wife.

We are a united front against the world.  My husband is my haven, my safe place.  He would no more share about the time I was having painful stomach issues and accidentally farted a couple of corn kernels in my panties (shrapnel!) then I would share about...well, I'm not telling.  That's private.

Last, but not least....

3.  Never let him see you poop (or any other bathroom functions).  Yes, I know he is your soul mate, but you gotta maintain a little mystique there to keep the relationship alive.  That's why Barbie is still a multigenerational sexy sex icon.  She doesn't poop.  Witnessing you doing it or changing a tampon will wreck your mystique.  Trust me.

I'm thinking about putting a list together and sending it to my friend with her gift for her bridal shower.  Unfortunately I won't be able to attend as she is out of state.

Do any of you who have been in long-term relationships have more advice?

Spill!

xoxo

ATM

Outing Myself

You know, I've been blogging for years under the name Attila the Mom.  Hubby didn't have any problem with it, as long as I didn't post family pictures when our kids were underage or much identifying information.  That way I could post all about my hopes and dreams, and my angst and aspirations.  I've met so many fantastic people on this journey and made some wonderful friends.

So when I wrote a couple of books recently, I really wanted to share it with you guys, but had to think it through.  Is it time to out myself?  I guess maybe it is.  ;-)

Anyhoodie, I created a seperate blog for my books and low-carbing.  Here I'll still be ATM, but there I'll be my "other" self.

Hope you'll come visit me at Not Your Mama's Cooking!

xoxox

ATM

Still Kicking

Hey all,

Just wanted to check in to let you know that I'm still alive and kicking.  ;-)

Got my blood sugars under control with a pill and not insulin, thank heavens.  Then I started feeling so dizzy that I was afraid to drive.

I guess with all the weight loss it was time to adjust my heart meds.  My blood pressure has always been on the low/normal range, but with all the changes, it's been on the low/low side.

Turns out 4 of the 6 meds I take can "cause dizziness".  Ow.  I was just a faint waiting to happen.

So we've been busy messing around with them to find a better combination.  Unfortunately it makes me feel like crap.

I will be back soon, and I hope you are all doing well.

xox

ATM

Goin' Fishing

Well no, not really.

As you guys know (because that's about all I've been blogging about), I've been bitching and moaning about some lower back and leg problems for the last 10 months or so. Some of it (joint pain and fatigue) was probably caused by fibro, and some of it (aching legs and neuropathy from the waist down) was probably caused by the deefed out disc in my lower back.

 

This has been getting progressively worse---and I actually fell down a couple of times. Seems my legs didn't want to obey the signals from my brain and did their own thing instead. The nerve blocker I was taking wasn't really helping, and Advil just wasn't cutting it any more.  I was exhausted and overwhelmed all the time.

 

So I went back to the family doc a couple of weeks ago, and he said, "when's the last time we did a blood sugar on you?"

It had been about a year. So we did some tests. Oy.

 

I guess maybe I should have known something was up when I was able to lose weight quite easily in the last year. I figured I wasn't that hungry in the past few months because of the pain.

 

Well. About that.

 

The next day I was nearly hospitalized when the tests came back. My blood sugar was 450.

 

I've got diabetes.

 

I've been practically asymptomatic. Fruity-smelling urine? No. Blurry vision? No. Pee a lot? Well yes, but I take diuretics for my heart condition, so of course I pee a lot. Fatigue? Yes, but that could have been explained by the fibro. Neuropathy? Yes, but that could have been explained by my injured disc.

For the past 10 days we've been trying to get it under control. I've been taking oral meds and avoiding sugar and starches like the plague. Lost another 10 pounds that I really didn't need to lose---which is ironic. I've spent my adult life trying to keep weight off and suddenly I'm trying to keep it on before I become a stick figure with boobs.

One good thing that has come of this is that the neuropathy is completely gone, at least for now. It doesn't seem to have done any permanent damage, and the relief from the muscle pain and weakness is wonderful.  I'm not tired any more and can sleep without all those jabs and electrical shocks along my nerve paths.

I guess the moral to the story is that as we age, it's important to get regular check-ups and blood work done.

 

My blood sugar still isn't under control, so I'm going to take off a few weeks to learn how to manage it. If it doesn't improve any more, I'm going to have to switch to insulin, and I really, really don't want to have to do that.

I didn't want you to think I was disappearing on you. I'll catch up with you all soon.

 

xoxox

ATM

Noodles and the Dumpling

Aren't they just the perfect pair?

 

P.S.  Actually their names are Matilda and Maddie.  We were going to nickname Maddie the Roni, but she got an enormous butt and Puppy Dumpling stuck.

 

Maddie has finally reached her adult weight of 12 lbs (versus Matilda's bulk of 80)

 

They're mesmerized by a piece of cheese.  Behold the power of cheese.

Ho Ho Ho

 

It's that time of year again! Joanna Jenkins at The Fifty Factor is kindly hosting a giveaway of one of our handcrafted ornaments!

 

Our mission: Highland Roses Design Collaborative Craft Studio is a privately-funded project that provides individuals who live with disabilities and/or mental illnesses as well as their family caregivers an opportunity to step towards independence through the sale of our own arts and crafts creations. We accept no grants or government funding, and are working to become self-sustaining through our own endeavors.

Every step of this undertaking is a collaborative effort---from design to creation. Each distinctive ornament is produced by several sets of hands---all working together to create something special!

Ornaments are a great low-cost gift for family and friends, as well as for teachers, co-workers or others you'd like to remember with a little something.

Support our crafters by stopping by and finding one or two you can't do without, and go by Joanna's to register for her giveaway!!

People are Weird

Boy has a month just flown by! We just had our first ornament show and spent weeks getting ready for that.

Then last week, my older brother---who is 47---had a freaking heart attack. Oy.

He thought he'd eaten a bad meatball sub the night before. Woke up with horrible "heartburn". When it didn't go away after taking Tums, his girlfriend insisted that they go to the emergency room.

Good thing she did. He had the heart attack right there while they were examining him. He probably wouldn't have survived it if they'd waited. He had two blocked arteries.

No more meatball subs for him!

Now on to the weirdness...

Hubby took me out to this Irish Pub we have in our little mountain burg. I'd never been there, but he'd been there for lunch a few times. We were having a "date", so I wanted to try it.

The place was jumping and we had to wait for about 20 minutes to be seated. The hostess put us in the bar where they had "waiting" chairs. We sat there and people-watched.

About 4 feet away from us was a couple at one of those bar tables---you know, the tall ones with the little round tops and bar stools? The guy went to (presumably) the restroom and their food was served.

There was a salad and a big plate of what I later found out was shepherd's pie (because hubby ordered it). As I idly watched, the woman took a spoon, looked around furtively and shoveled 4 heaping spoonfuls in her mouth before smooshing it around to make it look uneaten.

I was laughing to myself thinking, "damn, she must be so hungry she couldn't wait for him!" Then I looked away and chatted with the Hubs for a sec.

When I looked back, the guy had returned and was digging into his dinner---which was the shepherd's pie!! The waitress had come back with the woman's dinner, and it was a hamburger!!

WTF? Did you ever?

Burning My Biscuit

 

Ever since last Christmas, I've been having a lot of lower back and hip problems. I blamed it on fibro, and went to a back clinic for some relief. Like I wrote before, it really helped a lot. I had some x-rays done, and it turns out that my sacrum never fused together on the top, so it's like having an extra vertebrae (which Hubby is enjoying) without a disc to cushion it.

 

 

It's not a rare condition, but my tailbone was poking out, and my right hip was quite a bit higher than it was supposed to be. Also, the disc on the vertebrae above my sacrum is 80% deteriorated and all squashed up, causing most of the pain.

Well I got it all fixed up, but somehow a bunch of nerves down there got damaged, causing some kind of neuropathy (nerve issues).

 

 

For the last six months or so, the skin on the top third of my butt feels like it's sunburned. When I'm tired or stressed out, the muscles from my heinie straight down to my ankles ache. When I try to sleep, I get electrical "shocks" in my legs or butt or stabbing pains like somebody is jabbing me with a sharpened pencil. Itching along the nerve paths can become unbearable. The worst part is muscle weakness so I don't feel too steady on my feet.

I've been spending the last month having tests done and exploring treatment options with my doc. I nixed the standard nerve blockers because side effects include weight gain and swelling (amongst other nasty-sounding things). We decided to try a migraine medication that isn't normally prescribed for neuropathy, but acts by blocking nerves without all the other stuff.

 

Which comes to the great Zostrix experiment, or what I call "death in a tube".
 

Zostrix is a very very strong Capsaicin (chili pepper) ointment which is usually used for arthritis pain and sometimes for neuropathy.
 

The doc recommended that I try it along the top side of my butt that feels like it's sunburned.

 

So I bought this little 20 dollar "tube of death". Hubby read the instructions which included, "don't use a heating pad on the affected area", "don't get on your hands, eyes, mucus membranes or injured skin", and "if the dried ointment flakes off, don't inhale it".

 

Oh, it also said, "apply 2-4 times daily" and "might burn a little bit".

 

Hubby used the applicator pads and spread it across my hips. My skin sucked it right up, so he couldn't exactly tell where he put it before.  He added some more.

Since I was having sharp jabs to my heinie and my legs hurt, he applied it there too.

 

"This tube isn't going to go very far", he said skeptically. The sucker was a third of the way gone.

 

I was pretty much ok for the first couple of hours. It burned a bit on the back of my knees.

Then, the best that I can tell, some of the ointment from my butt flaked off into my panties and migrated somewhere else.

Somewhere very tender.

...and the screaming began.

 

I ran into the shower to try to get this stuff off of me.

There's a reason why the directions tell you not to use a heating pad.

 

What it doesn't say is DON'T GET IN A HOT SHOWER!!

 

The dried ointment liquefied and ran down into my crack, where it hit another tender area. The heat from the water ignited it and I was on fire from my hips to my ankles and every crevice in between. I spent the next ten minutes bent over in an ice cold shower trying to ease the burn.

For three hours I alternated between the cold shower and laying in my bed with my ass in the air facing the fan, shivering, moaning and waiting for death. The only thing keeping me from going to the emergency room was the thought of explaining how I got the crotch of fire.

 

Ok, now it's a little funny. I went back to my doctor to tell him the tale of my burned biscuit (and butt, and hips and legs), and the poor man turned purple trying not to laugh. Finally he burst out with "Great balls of fire!" and practically fell out of his chair.

Turns out you can actually OD on the stuff, as it's supposed to be used sparingly on an area about the size of your knee.

The only good thing to come out of this is that the skin on my butt feels almost normal now. I think it burned all the nerves to death. LOL

Puppy Lovin'

As the summer of love is winding down, Little Guy has gone to visit his biological dad in California for a couple of weeks, so Hubby and I truly have an empty nest for a short time.

As you guys who've read here for awhile know, we had 3 yorkies and an Australian Shepherd mix. My little baby, Molly, died almost 2 years ago, and Stinky Pete finally went on to her reward (at the ripe old age of 17) a couple of weeks ago.

Charlie, the yorkie that is left, is 15 and not in good health. When she goes, the Noodle (Aussie) will be absolutely bereft, as she is a pack dog and the yorkies were her peeps.

So for the last 6 months or so, I've been looking for a companion for her. I can't bear the heartbreak of having more yorkies, so I looked at other breeds and contacted a few breeders.

One breed I particularly liked was the toy Australian Shepherds. I'd never heard of them before, but our vet has one, and it is a very beautiful, smart dog. I found a breeder in Western Colorado and started a relationship with her, in anticipation to when we might be looking for a puppy. Told her what I was looking for (female, tri-black).

Well right after Stinky Pete passed away and we realized how precarious Charlie's health is, the breeder had a puppy that was just what we asked for.

 

Last weekend, Hubby and I took a scenic drive and stayed over in this lovely little town called Montrose, and brought our new baby home!

After a little stink eye from the big dogs, she got over her shyness and she fits right in.  She's about the size of a football, and is such a little love!

 

Everybody meet Madeline (now known as "the Roni" to go with "the Noodle")!

 

 

 

More Love in the Summer

In my opinion, the mark of a good author is one that can skillfully suspend the disbelief of the reader. That's why I enjoy Charlaine Harris' Southern Vampire Series, and Diana Galbadon's Outlander series. I can almost believe that Vampires and time travel exist.

On the other hand, badly-written sex can almost ruin a book. I really loved Laurel K. Hamilton's first 5 Anita Blake Vampire Hunter books. Then came the unsexy-sex. Lots of it. There'd be a whole chapter on it, and then two chapters of everybody pissing and moaning about it. So if you figure in 3 chapters of unsexy-sex and whining 3 or 4 times throughout the book (and skip it), you only get about 5 chapters of real story. I could skate through those suckers in an hour.

Hardly worth the trip to the library.

Since this is my summer of love, I've been reading a LOT of romance novels for the first time in years. If it has boobies and bulging crotches on the cover, I'll read it. Hubby and I have formed a book club of two---I'll read excerpts to him, and he'll decide whether he wants to hump me or laugh himself silly.

Most of it is crap. Some of it is quite spectacular. So far, Amanda Quick is the front runner for writing some sexy-sex. Deanna Raybourne doesn't actually write any sexy-sex, but her first Julia Grey novel was so romantic and heartbreaking (and very very good) that it actually made me weep a little.

I went back and read some authors that I hadn't seen in years. Eons ago, I really liked Bertrice Small's Skye O'Malley series. Lots of sexy-sex and a thundering good historical story. I wanted to see what else she'd accomplished over my long romance hiatus.

The woman has lost her damn mind. That's what she's accomplished.

There is just NO WAY on God's Green Earth that you can make butt sex romantic.

 

NO freaking way.

The heroine, being widowed, has just remarried. Her husband feels a little cheated that the field has been plowed before. So since she has presumably picked her nose and cleaned out her ears over the years, there is only one virgin orifice left to him and he decides he needs a little butt-lovin' to feel that she is truly his.

As he is (like most romance heros) hung like a stallion, you'd think there'd be some pain involved when he buttafuacoed her "little rose hole". But no, in Bertrice's world, virgin anuses are much like other girlie parts---after the first thrust to break the maidenhead (do buttholes have hymens?) all is ecstasy.

No mention of the doody clinging to his throbbing manhood when he's done. He just flips her over, unhygienically pokes it into her old, used orifice and brings her to orgasmic bliss.

As hubby would (and did say):

NO!! NOT SEXY!!

Yech.

Attila's Summer of Love

Sorry I haven't been around very much this summer, but there's a reason for it.

After our time away together in June, Hubby and I have been rediscovering each other and why we fell in love.

I don't know why this has happened right now---it could be that he's just had a milestone birthday, or that I've lost 70 lbs and have been feeling really great, or maybe because the Aspiring Adult moved out in June and we have more privacy---but we've been enjoying every second of it.

It's not like we were having problems or anything. But after 20 years together, and all of the crap that's happened in the last 3 years or so (the cruddy economy, my health issues, the Big Kid's illness, etc), there just wasn't an enormous amount of romance or intimacy happening in the Atilla house. Not a lot of time or energy for Hubby and I to be close and giggle and be a couple of kids in love.

So for the last couple of months, instead of being on the computer or busy with other non-important stuff, Hubby and I have been having lots and lots of S.E.X.

Or in other words, we've been makin' more bacon than the IHOP.

The kids are disgusted with us. Not that we've been flaunting it, but they can't help but observe the hand-holding, the cuddling, the quick little kisses....

And when their dad grabs my now-bony ass, they run screaming from the room.

But as in all things Atilla, I always find a way to embarrass myself.

I started reading romance novels again...something I haven't done in years. I've been sampling a variety of authors and each one is worse than the last. LOL I've been saving the most cringe-worthy passages to read to Hubby while we're alone so we can laugh our asses off. One author noted in her afterword that her fans write to her and tell her that they read her sex scenes to each other as foreplay. I tried that.

Hubby fell off the bed, laughing so hard and shouting, "NO! NOT SEXY!!"

Every day for years, I call Hubby at his office around 4pm to see what time he expects to be home and to give him a list if he needs to stop at the grocery.

For the last couple of months, however, I've decided that it was time to give his naughty bits a new name and have been calling him to try out new ones I've read from these horrendous books (or made up) and to remind him he's got a dirty dirty mistress waiting for him at home.

So when he answers his private line, I'll say something like, "Rampant Member" or "Sly and the Family Stones" and he'll start snickering.

Did I mention that he's been enjoying himself immensely?

The other day I read something that tickled my funny bone and decided to try it on my daily call.

I should have known that something was wrong as soon as he answered the phone. "Hello, this is XXXX, may I help you?"

It sounded like he was in a tunnel. But I soldiered on.

"Throbbing Manhood!" I bellowed.

There was silence. And then tittering. Several voices tittering. He had accidentally put us on speakerphone and there were people in his office.

"Uh, I think I have a wrong number," I stammered before hanging up.

He kept up the charade, but as most of his staff know, I call at that time and I don't think they were fooled.

Hubby thinks it's funny as hell, but I don't think I'll be showing my red face at the company picnic next week.

Oy.

Meanwhile, in My Neighborhood

Got a reverse 911 call yesterday.  This is MY neighborhood!  Yikes!

Close to the Burn Zone

 

 

Well the last couple of weeks have been truly scary.

We've been on stand-by evacuation until a few days ago because of the Waldo Canyon fire, which has been the worst in Colorado history. Many of our most prized possessions have been packed up and ready to go. The fire is now 80% contained and burning away from our town. Two families we know lost everything.

 

Big Kid and Kitty made it up the highway 15 minutes before they closed it.  The smoke down in the springs made it almost impossible for him to breathe.  The Aspiring Adult's new place was in the evacuation zone, so he came home too and I had all my ducklings under one roof.

The big piles of boxes (pictures, papers, family heirlooms, etc) sits in our dining room, waiting to be unpacked. And I'm afraid to unpack them.

Why?

Because we've got a firebug up here in our little mountain community. 21 fires, many deliberately set (they were put out before all the evidence was destroyed) in 8 days, not including the Waldo Canyon fire. If that was caused by arson, then it makes 22.

It almost feels like we've been under siege. I've been in to town shopping and chatted with others in the community. A lot of people feel shell-shocked.

Blessings to the firefighters and law enforcement who've been working overtime in these dangerous conditions to keep us safe.

 

Hope you all have a happy 4th!  No fireworks for us, we've had enough!

 

xoxo

Funny Guy

My new stepdad, who I call Poppa G, is a real hoot. For those who don't recall, my mom got remarried last year on Valentine's Day to a real sweetheart. She's now 79 and he's 88.

They're just like a couple of teenagers in love.

I got back yesterday, after spending a few days with them. Little Guy and I went up to bask in the parental (and grandparental) adoration. Chicken soup for the soul. ;-)

I brought Poppa G a couple of Father's Day presents. I didn't want to mail them, I wanted to give them in person. As I said before, my brothers are a little wary (still) of the relationship, but I've been delighted with the joy Poppa G has brought into my mom's life.

So the first gift was a book by a fellow blogger. She's a minister's wife and it's a bunch of little stories about her experiences and about her faith. It's called "Two Scoops of Grace with Chuckles on Top".

I HAD to have it when I saw the title.

My mom, who's name is Grace, is a retired minister herself.

And I think that EVERYBODY needs two scoops of her. LOL Especially Poppa G.

When I was visiting awhile ago, Poppa G told me about his favorite song. It was on the B side of a Glenn Miller 78---never a greatest hit. He said that over the years he'd request it on the oldies station but nobody would ever play it.

It was actually kind of hard to find on CD, but I did. The internet is a wonderous thing!

When I gave him the presents, he teared up in a big way. It was so---oh I don't know---sweet and poignant. At this point in their lives, they can pretty much buy anything they want, and are in the middle of trying to divest themselves of a myriad of things in order not to leave a mess for their kids to deal with or fight over.

It was nice to be able to find something, even though it was small, that would touch his heart. When we left this morning, he thanked me again, and teared up again. Awww.

While I was there, Poppa G told me a little story about when he was married to his first wife, who passed away about 10 years ago after 50+ years of marriage. For a long time in their early years, she worked the graveyard shift at the phone company. He said that they'd go to sleep together at about 8 (he worked at the crack of dawn), she'd get up at 11pm for her shift, and when she left, all the warmth would leave the room and he'd be cold the rest of the night, even in the summertime.

The point he was making is that now he felt that way with my mom. They have two houses, and when they were first married, sometimes they'd sleep at their own houses depending on what they had going on at the time. That's no longer the case. He can't spend a night away from her, because then the atmosphere is too cold.

Ahhh, young love. :-)

So on to the funny....

When Poppa G was in basic training in WWII, he started having problems with his butt. Yes, his butt.

He had a ton of piles, or external hemerrhoids and went to the doctor. Turns out he had some irregularity with the veins in his anus that he was born with, and ended up having surgery to correct it. He wrote to his girlfriend and told her that he had appendicitis and had it removed.

Fast forward a year. He was in New Guinea and actually had appendicitis. He notified his parents, who uh-oops-told his girlfriend. He spent the next couple of years trying to convince her that he really had TWO appendixes and was some kind of medical miracle or freak.

"I mean", he said, "At 19, how do you tell your girlfriend you had surgery on your a$$hole?"

He cracks me up!  Pun intended!