Yesterday I was afraid...

that my dog didn't love me anymore.

Me, who was a stay at home dog mom when I first started grad school so that I could train him and exercise him, and keep him from being crated all the time.

Me, who has to ice pick his frozen poop out of our backyard in negative temperatures.

Me, who has been late to work countless times because he threw up just as I was about to leave for work, because he ate grass the night before, even as I yelled at him to not eat grass.

Me, who begged and pleaded to keep him when Tim said we should cut our losses and sell him, during his 6-month "I'm going to pee all over myself and my crate every time you leave me" stage.

He was with the wonderful Feezors while we were gone, and had become used to hanging out with his doggy friends Casey and Bella. He acted as though we tore him from his pack. He moped, and yes, dogs can mope.

But then today, when I came in the back door from work, I heard him bounding/falling down the stairs to greet me, and he did his lean-into-me-so-much-it-almost-knocks-me-over, and I knew we were best buds again.

Playing Catch Phrase with the In-Laws

It's Tim's mom's turn, and she doesn't have her glasses on, so she has to squint and bring the words closer, than farther away. Then she starts shouting clues:
"They wear karate clothes! And go hay-yah!"
"A black belt!"
"A kung fu fighter!"
"No, no, and they wear masks!"
"A ninja!"
"Yes! At least I think that's what it said, I couldn't really read it so I just made it up..."
"See what it says...it says, 'audience'."

Merry Christmas to YOU, Mr. President

I know there's a lot of people that have strong feelings about President Bush, and I am one of them right now. I am having a very strong feeling toward him right now:

GRATITUDE.

Many thanks to you, Mr. President, for declaring the day after Christmas a federal holiday. Now I only have to take 4 hours of unpaid time.

George W., you would be welcome at my Christmas table.

Merry Christmas, ustedes.

Sometimes, I just really want to cuss

Pretty much all day I am making a concerted effort to not cuss. But sometimes...it gets difficult. Like when I accidentally bump into a urinal when I'm talking to a patient. And I don't mean a porcelain urinal attached to the bathroom wall, I mean a plastic one, like the picture above. That handle conveniently clips on to the end of patient's bed. The urinal may or may not have pee in it.

I also want to cuss when I step into the bathroom stall and see that the phantom hair-leaver has struck again. There is a sick sick woman (I'm assuming it's a 'she') that feels the need to take strands of her hair and stick them on the stall wall. Why? Why exactly? I'm hoping by their length that I can rule out any other origins other than her head, but that doesn't make me feel any better. You're probably wondering, 'Why don't you just go into another stall?' I can't promise that I have a logical answer for that. But here it is: One time I read a magazine article that said that the bathroom stall nearest the door is the cleanest because most people use the one farthest from the door for privacy. And so I persist, day after day. Even though there are only two stalls in that stupid bathroom.

Who does that?

So on last Tuesday night, my friend Jen and I set out to prove that we are just as young and hip as...other young hipsters. We went to see Death Cab for Cutie, The Ting Tings, and Jack's Mannequin at The Rave, which is the concert venue near Marquette.

I guess we forgot how much we hate secondhand smoke, and dumb sorority girls that screech lyrics in your ear, stomp on your toes, and hit you in the head with their cellphones while they drunkenly attempt to take pictures.

I guess I forgot that I kind of have a temper problem when it comes to that type of girl, who has pushed you, and spilled beer on you, and literally made one of your feet numb because she has stepped on it so many times.

I guess I forgot that I was a peace-lovin' social worker until I yell in Jen's ear, "If she pushes me one more time, I'm putting an elbow out", and then actually shove her, and then suddenly the guys behind me are nodding at me and yelling, "We've got your back." Wait a minute, did I almost get in a fight Tuesday night? The answer is yes. Did Jen try to stop me? No, she only egged me on by miming strangling them with her scarf.

I may never go to another concert again. Apparently I can't control myself. I hope you all still love me.

Ode to the Malleycats

Oh you Malleycats, you make me laugh.

On Thanksgiving, me and Reyna were trying to get the turkey in the oven bag. I was holding the bag open and Reyna was putting the turkey in. The turkey slipped, broke right through the bag, and was on the floor in a matter of seconds. Of course Dirk's slobbery face was there in nanoseconds. No harm, no fowl, and that turkey turned out great.

Thank you for an ideal holiday. Thanks for sharing the twins and Bennett with us - just love those little guys. We can't wait for the day when we can extend the same level of hospitality. Can't wait for next year!

To all the blogs I love...

To all of you that write extremely entertaining, funny, and even heartwarming blogs: please stop, I'm seriously going to lose my job. When boredom sets in at work around 2:30 in the afternoon, or 10:30 in the morning, or 11, or 3:30, I can't help it. You may not even know that I read your blog, but I do.

It's getting really bad, people. And let's remember who I work for! The Federal Government! As in one day I called my dad from work at his office (and it was a work-related question) and he answered the phone and said, "Oh Sara, I thought it was the President calling me. My caller id said "Federal Government."

I hope to the high heavens that no one is tracking the internet use of the lowly palliative care fellow, but you never know! I mean they wanted to know where I'd lived for the past 5 years when I got this job. Do you know how many places I've lived in the past 5 years? Yeah, neither do I! So I had to make some up! Just kidding, I didn't. But then they even wanted people who had known me at each of those addresses. And the Federal Government doesn't joke around. Those people got personal phone calls and got crap in the mail that they had to fill out.

Trust me, the bureaucracy is in place to provide many positions for people who just monitor internet use all day. The VA is a bastion of typical Fed bureaucracy. For example, my supervisor's fluorescent lighting in her office will sometimes go out on one side of the room. The one time that she called maintenance to come and fix it, it took days until anyone came out, and when he did, he just stared at the light for five minutes and said, "Yeah...this is going to take a while to fix." Then he left and never came back. So some days her office is half lit.

Let's all hope that whoever is assigned to watching my internet use is a slacker, or at least enjoys the blogs that I look at and therefore won't turn me in. Favoritism in the Fed Government is also alive and well, if you care to know.

Dear Dirk

"Um, next time can you knock?"


Lucy after Dirk started bleeding after a freak tongue cutting accident, and then proceeded to continue wrestling with Lucy and bled all over her.



Good times, Lu! A little blood can't stop the Captain, as he is known at the Lyman's!



Our dog Dirk got a letter today from his best girlfriend:

Hi Dirk,
It's me, Lucy. You have probably been wondering where I am. I had surgery on my knee a few weeks ago. My mom and dad said I'm not allowed to play for awhile. Instead, I lay on a really soft air mattress during the day and watch I Love Lucy reruns. Sometimes I get a bone to chew on.

I just wanted to make sure you haven't forgotten about me. I think about you all the time. Do you have your winter coat? I bet you look pretty cute.

Missing you,
Lucy (signed with a pawprint)

This letter got Dirk so riled up that he decided he should stand in front of the TV while we were trying to watch a movie and whine for two hours. Our friends the Lymans are Lucy's parents, and they are hilarious. We loved the letter, Team Lyman! We can't wait until you can play again, Lucy! Dirk thought the haircut you had to get for your surgery was HOTT!

Crappy day

Note to self: my least favorite part of my job is kicking patients off the unit because they aren't dying fast enough to meet our criteria anymore, and we have a waiting list. We don't say it that way, but that's definitely what the patients and their families hear and it sucks.

Yes, we know you like the care here.

Yes, we're sorry you had a horrible experience at that nursing home and are terrified to go to another one.

Yes, you are still very sick and probably do meet hospice eligibility, but do not meet criteria for our unit.

No, this does not make sense when we call ourselves the Palliative Care Unit and palliative care is supposed to be care throughout your terminal illness. Now here's the social worker, she'll help you find a nursing home.

Enter me, thinking, "Please, please, please, do not ask me about Medicare or Medicaid and how they pay for nursing homes because I just don't get it myself and I used to work with kids so can you ask me something I know, like maybe about what TPR is?" First question, "Now will his Medicare days roll over since he's been here for a while or will he still only have 43 left?" Uhh...see this nametag? It says Social Worker Trainee. Which is kind of insulting when I worked really hard (ok kind of hard) to get my master's but whatever, I don't actually know ANYTHING.

Cyclo-what?

This Saturday Tim did his first Cyclocross race. It was really fun to watch. Cyclocross is basically an obstacle course on your bike. I took some other pictures of the course, but somehow they didn't make it from the camera to the computer. So you'll just have to imagine. One thing they have to do is jump over these barriers. Then there are also steep hills where they have to dismount and run their bikes up. Some guys ate it going over these barriers, but luckily not Tim.



Here's his friend Neil going over.



And here is probably the best action shot I've ever taken in my life, and it was totally an accident. This is Jeff going over the barrier.

Halloweenie

I'm not going to lie, it's November 2nd and my Halloween decorations are still up. This is partly because I love them and partly because I don't have any Fall or Thanksgiving decorations. Come December I can put up all two of my Christmas decorations.

Halloween night itself was really lame. I'm not even going to bore you with what we did that night. We cleaned our house. Ok, there, I said it. The night before Halloween we went with a bunch of other dental students on a boat that took us on the Milwaukee River and out to Lake Michigan.

We rode our bikes downtown to the river and got in a gnarly crash.




But we were still down to party! I may look drunk in this picture, but I'm actually just really tired.



If you look closely you can see that I have a neck gash that we had to repair last minute with safety pins, and Tim has a bloody bone sticking out of his neck. And yes, we really do own this much spandex. And yes, I did wear it in front of much of Tim's dental class. And yes, I did sit down for most of the evening. And yes, we did wear our helmets the whole time.



A better view of Tim's neck wounds. Our conversation before the party was pretty funny:
Tim: Do I have enough blood on me? I want there to be a lot of blood.
Me: It looks like you have been face painting on your face with blood. There are fingerprints.
Tim: That black eye looks so real!
Me: Should I give myself a busted lip?
Tim: Yeah!
We still have plenty of fake blood and assorted bruising makeup, so if you ever want to make your face up nice and gory, you know where to go. I have to say, I was pretty proud of that black eye.



Eve was a doll and Eddie was a pheasant hunter. Creative, huh?



My camera's not so great with the moving in a boat night cityscape shots, but you get the idea.



Of course the Jolly Roger was flying.

Cute animal picture

No one can resist a cute animal picture like this. Even if you don't like animals, I bet part of you is melting right now. That's a good thing.

Farewell to Fall

Pumpkin Patch


Apple picking with the Waterhouses.



Jen and Jeff


Ryan



Andrew





Tim told me to pose with the ladder.



This is how he wanted me to pose.


Action shot!



I want Fall gardens like these, but I'm too lazy and cheap. Someday...




Pretty

My dad is funny

I was talking to my dad the other day and he was telling me about my little sister, Jamie, who is seven years old. This was the story he told me:

"Well, the big trauma last night was that her slinky got tangled, and she couldn't get it untangled. So I helped her, and then it was kind of deformed. So then she was crying and crying and, part of the problem is, Jamie kind of thinks the slinky is alive. And I can't blame her, because I kind of put that idea in her head. I talk to the slinky, ask it what it wants for dinner, tuck it into bed... So I think we're going to have to euthanize the slinky."

Anonymity at the gym

I know, posting twice in a day, it's wild! I was thinking some other deep thoughts today and just had to share them.

Such as, I LOVE not knowing anyone at the gym. If the lady who takes my gym card at 6 in the morning had a personal relationship with me, she would probably say, "Hey Sara, you kind of look like crap this morning. Maybe you need more sleep...or makeup...or a brush or something but um, I would be embarrassed if I looked like you right now, so quick, sneak out before anyone sees you." I can't tell you how happy it makes me to suffer through my 15 minutes on the treadmill (because, for some reason, I can fully run a half marathon but only make it for 15 minutes on the treadmill - IT'S ALL MENTAL), stretch, lift my very light weights, and then take a shower and endure the few awkward naked minutes in the locker room, without seeing one single person I know. So happy! Because then no one has to know that I am a total wuss at the gym! No one cared enough to notice that I only ran for 15 minutes! Except that I just revealed it. Crap.

"Optimist."

Ok, so I know that the second to last post was a little bit of a downer, but thanks for reading and hearing me out on a tough day anyway. I can't stress enough though that working with kids was actually more emotionally draining for me than this job. People tell me thank you, for example. Or, "Talking to you helped me feel better." The other day a patient's wife (who is so cute and I wish I could make her my adopted grandma) even gave me a hug and said, "I love you!" No, I love you! How sweet is that?

Anyway, I hope that this post doesn't end up being a downer, because it's not meant to me, but a really interesting thing happened today that I thought was blogworthy. Actually, events started to unfold yesterday when I was talking to one of our patients, a really sweet 80-year-old man who would have me write my name down in his notebook every time I saw him so that he could remember my name. I asked him how he was and he said he was thinking that he would be headed to the "great beyond" soon, and that he didn't have much time left.

Now, a week ago in lecture (the psychology fellow and I go to a lecture every week) the nurse practicioner was teaching us about the last 48 hours of life, and said that people often seem to know when they are about to die and will sometimes talk about it. Sometimes if they are delirious, they might make reference to dying in obscure ways, like saying that they're "waiting in line", or trying to "get on the train".

So, when this patient started talking to me this way I paid attention. I said, "What's making you feel that you are getting close?" He said that he was feeling very sick, and he had been confused a lot that day, and just felt that it was time. He even asked for the telephone and his phone book so that he could call his relatives and say goodbye. He also asked to see the Chaplain, which I arranged. He told the Chaplain the same things he had told me, and said that he was not afraid of dying and that God had helped him his whole life. After talking with him, I said, "I'll see you tomorrow." He just snickered and said, "Optimist."

This morning when I got into work I checked our roster to see if he was still alive. He was! Oh good, I thought, maybe he was just having a bad day. I went to say hi in the morning but he was sleeping. Later this afternoon, about a half hour before I was off work, I was working on some notes and just had a thought that I should go check on him and joke that I had been right, I would see him today! I walked down the hall and my supervisor and a CNA were there, and they said, "Oh, did you hear? Mr. So-and-so just died." My supervisor and I went into his room and said goodbye to him, and I reminded the nurses that he kept his wallet in his pillowcase, and that was that. He was gone, and he had known the day before.

I guess I felt privileged though that he could share that knowledge with me. He had not been a patient that liked to make idle conversation, so I wouldn't usually go in to talk to him unless I had a specific purpose. I didn't have one yesterday, but he called for me as I was walking by and asked me to hand him his phone book, telephone, and re-hide his wallet. When he told me that he thought he was at the end, I pulled a chair over and sat next to him. He said, "Oh, you don't mind sitting down for a little while?" I told him no and that's how we were able to have this conversation.

In my last semester in grad school I took a "Death and Dying" class, which is how I became interested in palliative care in the first place. I used to get so frustrated with the teacher for not being more specific about how he would work with the patients and what exactly he would say, as if there were some magic formulas. His big emphasis was that it was most important for the patient and their family to feel that you are present with them. I thought, "Thank you for taking my out-of-state tuition and giving me a lame social work term rather than some actual models and interventions." I have really found that to be so true, as silly as it probably sounds. I should probably email him and apologize for rolling my eyes every time he said that. Anyway, like I said, hopefully that wasn't a downer because it was actually a positive experience for me, very special.

What a dork

I totally drove into my garage with my bike on the bike rack on Saturday. I think my bike is ok, but I haven't recovered enough yet to actually check too closely. Definitely the bike rack is not ok. My car is ok...

Feelings of self-loathing...

All in a day's work...

Today we had a patient die.

Yesterday we had a patient die.

Another died over the weekend.

I talk to at least one very distraught, crying person every day.

I hope I am being a comfort. I hope that just by listening and being there for people, and helping them get unpleasant tasks out of the way, that I am accomplishing something.

But you know what? Death and illness and losing your independence, or your spouse, or your dad, or your role at home...these are hard things. I have seen a very tough older man cry when telling me that he can't mow the lawn at his church anymore because of his cancer. For all the times that we are frustrated that we have yet another chore to do around the house, at least we can do it!

Today I was talking to a older guy who is a little gruff around the edges, but very funny and sarcastic. He was telling me that it was depressing for him to be in the hospital at this time of year because he would usually go to the woods in northern Wisconsin and spend lots of time outdoors, hunting and hiking. He told me about a time that he was standing next to a tree, partially hidden, in the woods, and a wolf walked about 5 feet in front of him and never saw him. He said it was an amazing experience. It's always interesting to me to hear what life stories stand out for our patients when they are having to face their own death.

It's easy to forget that the elderly were once like Tim and I are now: young, healthy, strong, very independent, full of hope and dreams of the future.

You never envision your future with illness, loss, isolation, loneliness, or bitterness as part of it.

This job is teaching me to keep the perspective that none of us are immune from life's trials, as much as we would like to insulate ourselves. The only way that I can see to prepare for the tough times is to do so spiritually. Through prayer, and asking forgiveness, from God and from others, by going to church and to the temple, by reading the scriptures and serving, even serving those that make you uncomfortable. These are all areas that I can always improve in, that's for sure. And maybe by letting the little things slide? By choosing not to be offended and to cherish those relationships, even those that are difficult to maintain. I also want to be so much more appreciative, and to let my loved ones know that I am thankful for them.

These are just some of the things that I am learning in this fellowship. Clearly Heavenly Father had a reason for putting me at the VA, at this time in my life.

A couple more things:
1. Talk with people you love about how you want to die. It sounds morbid, but it's not going to get easier in the event that you are actually dying, so let them know now.

2. Make your advance directive. The most important part is where you designate your health care power of attorney. This is the person who would make decisions for you about your health care should you become incapacitated. It happens! And doctors DO NOT like making decisions for patients that are non-decisional. Also, if there is an option on the advance directive regarding nursing home placement or community based residential facilities (think assisted living), think about it before checking that you don't want your health care agent to be able to place you in one! People are living longer and taking longer to die from chronic illnesses. It can be very difficult to maintain someone in your home if they require full care. Home hospice (at least in WI) is only there to SUPPORT the caregiver. They are not there to do much of the tough stuff of caregiving.

3. If you are in a position to save money, or if you have money and assets (I am not there yet!), put money aside for your funeral and burial costs. It is hella expensive! And I see so many families that have to worry about, "How are we going to afford to bury Dad". Make a will. Designate a financial power of attorney. This is a separate document from your health care power of attorney. And it is only good while you are alive, so you will want to make important people in your life either joint account holders with you, or arrange for them to receive your money in your bank account upon your death. If they're not on your account, if it's not spelled out in your will, things get sticky (again, at least here in WI-things may vary state to state).

Well, thanks for letting me share these things with you. I'm hoping that this job will help me learn some important things now rather than later.

This is the face of a cold-hearted killer

Giselle, our cat, has been busy murdering small animals this summer. She kills with no remorse, and I think she even likes it when the mice fight back a little bit before she deals the death blow. Apparently all of the bloodshed has led to some gastric upset for our kitty, as the other day she puked on our couch. Under the pretense of having to rush to work, I made Tim clean it up (but really, Tim, I had to get to work) and as he was doing so, he says, "You're not going to believe this, but there's part of an earthworm in here, and it's still moving." Which reminded me of the bird that swallowed the spider that wriggled and tickled inside her...perhaps my cat will die.

The other day as we were apologizing to our next door neighbor for the headless rat he found in his yard, he said, "It's ok, we don't have mice!" And Tim said, "Or birds!"

What a little killer.

Climbing Mt. Everest

This summer Tim and I decided to take on Everest.


Ok, just kidding, we did hike Half Dome in Yosemite though. And it was like my own personal Everest.



Not because it was an 18 mile hike. Not because it took 10 1/2 hours, and my toes hurt the whole way down. And not because I got ridiculously sweaty, like in the picture below.


It was because I had to conquer these horrible things. These are the cables that take you up to the top of Half Dome. Let me give you a description of the cables from our book, "One Best Hike - Yosemite's Half Dome": "The cables are multi-stranded steel, about 1 inch in diameter... They are attached to 3-foot stanchion poles and resemble a banister. The poles rest in holes drilled into the rock. Note that I said "rest". They will come out if you pull up on them... At the base of every pole pair is a long two-inch-by-four-inch piece of wood placed perpendicular to the path. This allows you to stand every 10 feet and take a rest." Oh PS you are hiking up and down at a 45-degree angle. Here's another favorite quote from the book, "Be advised that although it has seldom happened, people have fallen to their deaths by slipping from the cables. A 2000-foot drop looms not far from the cables." Well friends, I have a small but intense fear of heights, and as I was coming down these cables, I slipped, and for a moment was on the outside of the cables. On sheer granite. With a looming 2000-foot drop. Needless to say I fully embarassed myself by saying, "Help me!", at which point a kindly Brit grabbed me, and then I proceeded to cry hysterically for what seemed like a long time.


Look at these great pictures we got at the top though!





Totally worth a near death experience. Almost.

Won't you be my neighbor?

In this post I would like to discuss a favorite idea of mine, and that is the idea of...The Commune. Collective groan from some people who have heard this idea, I know, but still...c'mon guys we could all be neighbors, it would be great!

We have met so many wonderful people since we've married and done some moving around, and I'm sick of having to say goodbye to them. Hence, The Commune. Not a weird commune. Not a cul-de-sac-like commune. More like we all live in the same neighborhood. And maybe we share stuff, like horses and boats, I dunno. I think this commune idea is because my parents are divorced and live on opposite ends of California, and I just want everyone to be in one place so I am not always missing people. Of course the commune will be in California, because that's closest to me and Tim's families. And unfortunately the location will rule out Tim Hassell, because he's refused to live in California...but we'll fly Anna in for tons of visits on The Commune's private jet. Because OF COURSE we know Tim's friend, Brandon, who is a pilot now, and he can live in The Commune also, because he has a needed skill.

Ok it is starting to sound a little bit like I'm back in high school, when I kind of was a Communist, but who better to be a dictator than a social worker?

Not only would our commune have TONS of doctors and dentists, but if you need an amazing handmade purse or baby blanket, or need a good book, just talk to Shalet, she lives down the road. Need a Hmong interpreter and a filling? No problem, it's a one-stop shop 'cause her husband Dr. Greg is fluent. If your kid's got a lisp that isn't so cute now that he's in kindergarten, luckily we've got Karisa, our resident speech pathologist, she'll clear that right up. Or perhaps you need a little recreational therapy, or your abs are needing a killer Pilates class, just talk to Catherine. Like I said before, we'll have to fly Anna in for our event planning needs. And Tim H. would represent The Commune in any legal scuffles, even if he refuses to live in The Commune. English will be taught at The Commune school by Katie, and my high school friend Carla can teach biology and make sure we're running a GREEN commune, because that's so hot right now. My other friend from high school, Erin, would run creative writing workshops, and do wedding planning. See? There's jobs for everyone! Jess and Jon would run The Commune Hospice and bike shop (not a combination...two separate places), Erin L. would handle The Commune's financial affairs, as well as teaching horseback riding lessons, and it would be just the greatest! A whole town full of my favorite people.

Sign up now, spaces are filling up fast.

Too hot for Milwaukee...

I want to preface this by saying that I'm not conceited. I have just never ever been hit on more in my entire life than I have in the past 2 years in Milwaukee.

Today, walking out of the VA, there were two vets sitting outside in wheelchairs (there are about 50 vets in wheelchairs, smoking in all kinds of weather, in front of the VA at any given moment, I swear) and one of them said, "You sure are wearing those clothes, ma'am." At least give me something to work with! What do I say to that? "Well yes, yes I am wearing these clothes." I know, I guess I should take compliments where I can get them and just be glad that "I've still got it", but these types of compliments just make me REALLY UNCOMFORTABLE. You would think my tough husband would jump to the rescue, but he loves it. His verbatim response: "Aw, honey, just let the old guys perv out a little, it's not like they have anything better to do."

Here's the creepiest/funniest "hit on" story. I was stopping for gas before work and standing outside of my car by the pump. An older man pulls up in his car on the other side of the pump and says, "Well, I think it's rude to talk about people behind their backs." I have no idea where he is going with this, but I'm a social worker, I have the nod and smile down pat. I do so. He continues, "But I work with some A-rabs (that's how he pronounced it) and I know some Arabic and that guy in the covenience store thinks you're very pretty." I glance in the mini mart and see a man in a turban staring out the window. The fight or flight response kicks in and I very much want my gas to be done pumping. I graciously laugh and say, "Oh well thank you" and jump back in my car and peel off to work.

Here's another one: The day before Valentine's Day, I am pushing my cart back to my car after shopping at Walmart, and the guy pushing his cart in front of me turns around and says, "I just want to be the very first one to wish you a happy Valentine's Day." I told him I would let my husband know that he beat him to the punch. That one was kind of cute and funny (not the guy, the pick up) but still...I was glad to get back in my car where my fierce-looking (but really not scary at all) dog was waiting.

Probably the most useful pick up I ever received was when I was attempting to put air in my tires at the gas station. Note, before this happened, that Tim and I had the following conversation on the phone:
Me: My tire's flat and I need to put some air in it to get home but I don't know how. What do I do?
Tim: You just undo the thing on your tire and stick the air thing on it and fill it up. Then you check the pressure with the pressure gauge.
Me: I dunno how to work the pressure gauge. What if I do it wrong?
Tim: Just be a girl and go into the mini mart and act all blonde and whatever guy is working there will help you do it. Don't worry. They'll totally do it.

Well I have just a little more pride than that so I was trying to do it myself and this guy pulls up in his car (I must look especially vulnerable and desperate for love around cars) and says, "I don't usually do this, but could I take you out to dinner somewhere?" I said, "I'm flattered, but I'm married, so I don't think so. You could help me put air in my tires though." He apologized awkwardly, but then helped me put air in my tires, then asked me if I had any friends he could go out with. Which I didn't, so that was kind of a lose-lose situation for him, but it worked out ok for me.

Has anyone else found Milwaukee to be a place of frequent pickups? It must be my perfume...

Hoo-rah

We got to do a lot of cool things this summer, so I'll be throwing in a few retrospective posts here. One REALLY cool thing was getting to watch my 21-year-old brother, Chris, graduate from Marine Corps boot camp. Here are some sweet pictures of the guy we now know as Private Gallo. Can you tell which one he is?


Chris lost about 20 lbs during boot camp, so he looked like a totally different person.

Chris, me, our cousin Olivia, and little sister Jamie.

Chris's fan club.

Awww.


Joining the Marines was a huge change for Chris and we have all been really impressed with his new dedication and discipline. Unfortunately the night before Chris's graduation I came down with the stomach flu while on the flight to San Diego and puked all over the floor of the plane as I was waiting to get into the bathroom. I felt pretty miserable for the rest of the weekend but it was nice to spend some quality time with my dad and brother. It was really sunny on the base, so my dad and Uncle Peter made their own hats.


My stepdad Ralph flew down to San Diego too, and it was great to spend some time with him. I hadn't seen my cousin Olivia since she was about 8, and now she is a beautiful 16-year-old! Thank you Ralph, for my new "Proud Sister of a Marine" sweatshirt, I wear it all the time!


This is Jamie with the mascot bulldog. I want this to be Chris's job in the Marines: taking care of the bulldog. No guns needed.


Even though it was cloudy, it was nice to hang out on the beach by the Hotel del Coronado.



Part of my orientation at the VA was watching these heartwrenching videos about veterans, and as you can imagine, the parts about the returning OEF (Operation Enduring Freedom) and OIF (Operation Iraqi Freedom) vets made me tear up every time. As much as I would hate to see my little brother ever in harm's way, I am so proud of the new life he is leading and the service he is providing to our country. We love you and miss you Chris! You are in our prayers and thoughts!