Beds

A couple of weeks ago James and I started throwing around the idea of getting a bigger bed. We currently have a queen and it does just fine for the most part. Generally we have no sleeping issues, but every once in a while one of use will have a restless night and our continual movement will keep the other person awake and then no one is happy.

After several nights of no issues and great sleep we had all but forgotten about the bigger bed discussion. Then, three nights ago right before nodding off James whispered a horrific curse, "We sure haven't had any issues sleeping lately" True, we hadn't...but now we were jinxed. I knocked on wood (my night stand)which not only scared James to death (he thought it was someone at our window), but also did nothing to ease our inevitable sleeping issues.

That same night James would NOT STOP MOVING. He was constantly flipping over, kicking his legs, waving his arms around wildly, chomping his teeth LOUDLY. It was the most annoying night in the history of marriage. Our marriage anyway. James, however, slept through his craziness and didn't believe me when I told him what he had been doing.

After that night the bed conversation came up again. I thought, nah, we don't need to invest in a bigger bed. We're just fine! It was one fluke night! The next night we drifted off to sleep...and a few short hours later I was woken up by an elbow smacking me on the nose. Yes, I was bowed by my husband. Luckily it didn't hurt very much but the movement woke James up in time to realize what he had done and then he KNEW I hadn't been making it all up. I faked injury for a few seconds just to make sure it sank in, then I told him it didn't really hurt but to be more careful with his flailing in the future.

The next day when I got home after work James informed me that he had been pricing bigger beds again. I guess my fake injury really got to him. A warning of future broken noses and black eyes perhaps? Still no purchases made, but the thought was presenting itself much more strongly than in the past.

Last night I woke up due to stabbing pain in my eyebrow. Apparently I had stabbed myself with my fingernail. I checked the mirror to find I had actually injured myself and was bleeding. Yes, my own flailing arms resulted in a significantly noticeable gash in my brow. Today I've cleaned it up and put make up on it, but it still looks like a black blob in the middle of my eyebrow. Awesome.

I'm starting to think that a bigger bed might not be adequate for our issues. Perhaps restraints would be a better investment.

The Cherry Doesn't Fall Far From the Tree

The other day I went grocery shopping. I intended to get peanut butter chocolate chip granola bars. When I got home I realized I had accidentally purchased pb granola bars sans chocolate chips. Annoying, but tolerable.

As I was unloading the rest of the bags I proudly pulled out a four pack of Monster energy drinks and called to James, "Look! I got you Monsters!" His reply? "Those are Rockstars." Arrrgh, how did I do that??? I know he only drinks Monsters.

Then this morning I woke up to find an email from my mom. She told me about how she had purchased some really cute beach towels from Costco. Then when she opened them up at home she realized that the cute flowers actually formed the shape of a skull.

And then I didn't feel so bad. I'm not the only shopping strugg around here ;)

Unexpected Vacation

Throughout my entire childhood, one week out of every summer was dedicated to our family reunion camping trip. Among the reunion festivities was the annual talent show which typically consisted of one crazy aunt dressing in a cat costume or all the cousins getting together and acting out a skit. It could have easily been renamed No-talent But Somewhat Amusing Show.

One year when I was maybe six years old or so, my aunt decided that my cousin and I should do a hula dance for the show. Apparently people enjoy seeing little girls swaying back and forth to the peaceful melodies of a tape recorded ukulele. I guess we were going for the cuteness factor. So my aunt clothed us in little bikini tops and grass skirts and forced us in front of the eager crowd. And we hula'd. I wasn't a fan.

James and I just found out that mid-September James is being sent to Hawaii for a week long course on something or other and so, since that talent show is the closest I've ever been to Hawaii, I'm tagging along for the fun. Hopefully the hula can redeem itself.

Let the extreme dieting and workouts begin!

The Reagans

James has recently gotten hooked on the show "Blue Bloods." I'm happy about it since I watched the entire first season without him. We watched the whole first season (again for me) over the last week or so. On the surface the show is just like any other cop show set in New York City. A vicious, complicated crime...the detectives who solve it...the lawyers who prosecute the bad guys...all in all very typical. But the one thing that makes the show special (at least in my opinion) is that it centers around one family, the Reagans. Siblings, parents, grandparents, nieces, nephews...everyone is in the mix. And each and every episode they have their Friday night dinner together where they gather for good food, a glass of wine, conversation, and just time together as a family. And I love it. And it makes me miss my family.

When I was little we used to have Cherry family dinners every Friday night at my Grandma and Grandpa's house. Grandma would cook something fancy for the family and a hot dog for me and dinner would be followed by TGIF for the kids in the pink room. And it was perfect. I have no idea how long this tradition actually carried on. For all I know we could have only done it three times, but being so young at the time it felt like a good chunk of my childhood. And the sad thing is, at the time I didn't appreciate it at all. I'm not sure if I even looked forward to it. But now I want it back.

Last Thanksgiving the whole family was together: my parents, all my sibs, their spouses, their kids, and James, not yet my husband, had just come home from Afghanistan. And even though I think we all new it at the time, I didn't fully appreciate that this would be our last holiday all together for who knows how long. Sister is in New York now. Brother is in Seattle now. And no one intends to get together for the holidays for quite a while. And it's sad. It's just really really sad because lately I've been craving Fondue Friday or dinner with the Starlings Saturdays or watching the Giants with my parents Sundays. I just really want to be able to see my family whenever I want to. It would just be so nice to be able to stop by someone in my family's house after work just to say hello. And to know it's never going to happen is just depressing me I suppose. I don't know what my deal is. Just a little homesick I guess.

Talking About the Weather

Ventura is a weird, weird place to live. Weather-wise at least. It's technically Southern California and it's on the beach...but it's not your typical So Cal beach town because the sun pretty much only comes out here between October and May. And for most of that time period, it's cold. And not beachy. So for the summers we're pretty much socked in by a giant marine layer cloud of overcastness. And, seeing as I'm at work all day and sunny days make me a little sad to be stuck in my office, I quite like the weather arrangement we have going on here currently. Especially since I have a not so secret love affair going on with cardigans and I can pretty much wear them year-round here. This place is ideal for jean loving folks who like to hide jiggly legs and pasty body parts whenever possible. Ahhh, I love me a Ventura summer.

But it's tricky, because this kind of weather makes me think it's Fall. And I LOVE fall. I wake up in the morning, check the density of the clouds to determine the thickness of the cardigan I need to put on, and then I just want to curl up with a pumpkin-spice latte, shop online for sweaters, and gab about Thanksgiving and Christmas plans. I love you Fall. But if this year is anything like last year, as soon as I stock up on a fresh batch of sweaters and snuggly sweatpants, get all my goods together for a bake fest, and start airing out my sorely missed Uggs, October will roll around and with it the summer heat we have been missing for the last four months. That's about the only thing Ventura has in common with the rest of Southern California. There is no Fall here. The leaves don't change colors. It heats up instead of cooling down. Only Frappuccino drinking can be tolerated until about mid November. Well, I guess I should say there's no Fall here, except during Summer.

I'm excited for the real Fall to get here. And to go to Modesto so I can actually get some good Fall weather while enjoying fun Fall activities. But for now, I'm going to just try to savor the rest of fake Fall here in Ven. Because I have to say I think I might love fake Fall almost as much as real Fall. Even though it's weird.

Surg

Yesterday James had back surgery. Everything turned out well and he seems to be recovering nicely. He was even able to play some Call of Duty this morning. I think he'll be juuuuust fine.

There were, however, a few bumps along the road.

I had been to this particular hospital before when I had to drop a friend off there. And by friend, I mean the guy on a bike who I hit with my car. But to clarify, he was already on his way to the hospital when I hit him, so I wasn't taking him there because I had injured him. Aaaanyway, having been to the hospital before, I never imagined that it could be so...ridiculous.

First sign of trouble was when the nurse couldn't get the IV into James' left hand...not sure what happened there but apparently the blood started pooling in the top of James' hand so she had to remove the IV which then caused his vein to collapse. I'm not sure if that's common or not but it seems to me that putting an IV in should be a pretty basic thing for a nurse. But what do I know I guess. Please note that his left arm is wrapped with a heating pad and a robe.



Next issue was the anesthesiologist who looked like he hadn't slept in about a week. I'm all about the scruffy face look on a guy...but not when its on someone who is about to inject my husband with a potentially lethal substance. Then he made the comforting statement about how you're more likely to get hit by a car on your way to the hospital than to die due to the anesthesia. The surgeon then came in and proceeded to make a joke about how he'd rather die in a car than from anesthesia. Maybe it's just me, but talking about dying, regardless of the method, right before your loved one goes under the knife is just NOT COOL, man. Then another nurse wheeled James away from me and we said a passionate goodbye in the hallway which James doesn't remember at all. Thanks a lot, anesthesiologist. Ugh.

Then Mama Smith and I waited, ate muffins, waited, drank coffee, waited, nodded off, waited, drooled a little, waited, made a friend, waited. And fiiinally the surgery was over, James woke up and we were able to go up to his room. Then the incompetence of the hospital staff began.

They put James in a three person room. One guy was already on the far side by the window. For some reason, his nurse thought it would be a good idea to put James' bed in the slot right in front of the door so that the spot in the middle of the room was left open. This was fine as there were only two people in the room at the time, but soon a third needed to be in there. The genius staff decided to try to squeeze the new guy's bed past James' bed into the middle of the room space, but there wasn't enough room between the end of James' bed and the wall (this was obvious simply by looking but they decided to try it anyway). Then, one lady decided that it would be a good idea to raise the head of James' bed up in order to make more room for the other bed to squeeze by. Does lifting up the top half of someone who has just had back surgery sound like a good idea to ANYONE?? No. It doesn't. She asked James if he could handle it and he said a little bit was fine. She then proceeded to crank that thing up and didn't even act a little worried, sorry, anything when James cried out in pain because she had raised it so stinking high so stinking fast. The other bed still wouldn't fit through. It was obvious that they were going to continue trying fit the bed through even though it was not possible so I suggested that they just scoot James' bed over to the middle space and put the new guy in the spot by the door. Then they all bowed down and worshiped me for my brilliance beyond measure.

Okay, so in theory, my idea was a good one. I mean, the beds are on wheels so how hard could it be? Apparently, very hard. When they moved James' bed, they bumped him against walls, shook him all around, and showed no concern for him at all. Then, after all that, they forgot to plug his IV thingy back in. His mom and I wondered how many patients on life support they had forgotten to plug in. Then the quarters were so tight that someone on the other side of the curtain stepped on James' IV cord and almost ripped it out of his hand. Poor James. And to top it all off, the guy who had been in the room first was an old hard of hearing guy who was talking (yelling) almost constantly the whole time we were in the room. Granted, that's not the hospital's fault, but it added to the whole horrific ambiance of the room. After a bit of complaining about their incompetence and lack of care for their patient who had just gotten out of back surgery for goodness sake, the staff finally started to move things along and got us out of there pretty quickly.

I guess I should just be grateful that the surgery went well and that James is fine,and I am, but it's hard not to expect a little bit more out of the people who were supposed to be taking care of him after the procedure. Is this just how all hospitals are?? Because that's sure not what it looks like on Grey's Anatomy...