NAG NAG NAG

My iPhone is dangerous.

It has slowly but insidiously wormed its way into all aspects of my life.

My calendar is no longer in a booklet - it's on my iPhone.

My list of contacts, phone numbers, addresses, emails, websites? iPhone.

Maps on paper and in the glove compartment? Never again. Directions come over an app on my iPhone.

Reminders? No longer on Post It notes or written on the mirror with dry erase markers - but on my iPhone. (Voice Memos ROCK)

Playing computer games? Yes, but not on my trusty Dell, but on the phone.

Share photos of my adorable grandchildren? Yup.

And now I have made the ultimate error.

I installed an app called "Doable". I put an action, set how often I want it done, and it reminds me when the due time is past.

And it reminds me.

And reminds me.

It isn't easy to turn off.

Which is why I am writing this blog right now - so it will stop reminding me!

A DAY WITH BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH

(see originally at www.fanfiction.net/s/7929229/1/Day_out_with_Benedict_Cumberbatch# -- and... well, I enjoyed it!)

It's a wonderfully pretty Monday morning, and for a change you're actually early on your way to university, so you figure there is time to get a coffee from the nearest Starbucks.

Holding your scalding vanilla cappuccino in your hands, you hurry out of the busy place, and not seeing the little step on the threshold, stumble hard, painfully falling against a tall figure which appears in front of you that very second. Terrified, you watch in slow-motion as the entire contents of the cup splash over the suit of the man, and weirdly, the only thought your mind can process is that the suit is tailor cut, and looks very expensive.

Flushing crimson with embarrassment, you immediately start mopping the man's suit with the tissues that were given with your drink, apologizing incessantly.

"My goodness, I am so, so, so incredibly sorry for this. I just didn't see you, and I fell on this step and…and… oh, please, let me pay for the cleani…"

But you don't get to finish your sentence, because the man puts a hand on your arm with which you're desperately clutching the soaking tissues, and says,

"Oh please, don't worry about the suit - it's just a small mishap that could happen to anyone; I myself have done that on a number of occasions"

And as soon as you hear this incredibly rich, deep, and rumbling voice, a gasp escapes and you feel yourself shaking. No…this cannot be… You lift your eyes cautiously, and feel them almost leap out of your head as you gaze star-struck at the all-too-familiar face before you. The razor sharp cheekbones, the lean face, the mesmerizing eyes, the wavy ginger hair - it feels too surreal to be true, but since you have for the past half minute been frantically rubbing a tiny piece of tissue against this man's torso, you simply accept that, yes, the man you've spilled a whole cup of coffee on, is in fact - Benedict Cumberbatch.

In a daze you hear him speak, "Please, let me buy you another cup of coffee to replace this one. I believe I too am at fault for having so unexpectedly and hurriedly walked into the shop. But would you mind if we found another coffee place? It's just too crowded in here and completely impossible to hold a conversation. I think I know just the right spot, and it's not too distant from here."

Not even knowing what is going on, you find yourself nodding your head mutely, still grasping the wet tissues to your chest.

He starts walking, keeping half a step in front, and you find yourself hurrying your pace to keep up with his immensely long stride. As he walks he introduces himself and inquires about you and your studies, and seems impressed when you shyly tell him what you're studying. In exchange, he tells you he is an actor and that probably you have never even heard of him, and not to appear an overeager fangirl you shrug nonchalantly. Stammering, you manage to ask him a question or two about his acting, melting inwardly as he regales you with stories about his work in Sherlock, and his new role in the Hobbit, and how he has fled here to take a short break from the stresses of his job. He really does have a slightly tired air to him, and your stomach winces in sympathy.

You notice he has led you away from the crowded main street, and is walking towards a quieter road that opens out on a park, nearby a canal. Rounding the corner, he shows you to a tiny French café and holds the door open for you. He tells you that his mother used to take him there as a boy, before he'd moved to take up acting, and that after lunch he had loved to walk in the park and feed the ducks in the canal. The owner, a corpulent French man, remembers Benedict and clapping his hands in joy, inquires in French what would he like to order. Your somewhat distorted knowledge of the language, however, allows you to understand that the chef has mentioned you as "votre délicieuse amie" - his delightful friend, and you realize that if you blush any further you'll set fire to your cheeks.

In perfectly fluent French, Benedict orders two vanilla cappuccinos and two exquisite pastries; "to go" he requests them. Awkwardly, you wait alongside him until the order is ready; he pays refusing your offers to pay your share, saying that you've had quite enough trouble this morning, and once again holding the door open for you, sets out into the bright and warm sunshine.

He takes you into the park, charmingly describing fellow actors and funny set incidents, and soon enough you've relaxed enough to tell him some anecdotes about yourself and smile as he laughs heartily.

He turns to you and once again butterflies swarm in your stomach as you hear him, "Seeing that I've shamelessly abducted you from your daily plans and you've probably already missed a lecture or two, would you mind joining me for an impromptu picnic here in the park? You're a wonderful person to talk to and I'd gladly have your company for a while longer."

Giddy with joy, you beam out a slightly breathless agreement and in companionable silence walk by his side, as he leads you to a place on the opposite side of the park, where he says he used to have picnics by himself when he was younger, because he had no friends or siblings to have picnics with. Incredibly saddened by this private insight, you tell him about being an only child too and staying somewhat lonely throughout your life.

Suddenly you feel yourself lose balance over some gravel on the path, and he gallantly takes your hand to steady you, and does not let go even when you recommence walking, at which point your legs seem ready to give way, but you persuade yourself to calmly keep moving forwards, one leg at a time. 

Walking a bit further ahead, moving away from the path, he stops and you find yourself in a small, secluded spot on higher ground, which is completely invisible to anyone walking along the main path. He takes off his suit jacket and spreads it on the ground explaining that if it's already dirty, some grass stains won't make much of a difference, but realizing that his words make you feel uncomfortable and guilty, he apologizes. You sit down on the edge of the jacket as he takes his place directly opposite you, comfortably cross-legged, and opens the paper bag that holds the take-away food, handing you your second vanilla cappuccino of the day along with the mille feuille pastry. You sit there relishing the sunshine and the food as you chat companionably about life, feeling closer to him than you've been to anyone in years.

Handing you a napkin from the bag, your hands touch, and a slight blush creeps over his smooth cheekbones, his large and beautiful hand lingering on yours for slightly longer than necessary and he leans forward, so large and warm and…well…unbelievably real, that feeling too overwhelmed by all this emotion and your pulse racing, you leap up nervously and walk to the side of the clearing letting the wind flow through your hair calming you. You hear a twig break behind you, turn and see his large figure standing over you, his deep, sea green and gold flecked eyes boring into your soul, and slowly you feel yourself drowning in them, as your heart starts to beat so loudly you're surprised he doesn't hear it.

He whispers so quietly that you're not quite sure you're imagining it or not, "Forgive me if I startled you. I feel a strange connection with you as though I've known you from a different lifetime. You are indeed a special person." His eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles shyly, and the wind plays with a lock of hair fallen across his forehead.

Leaving one hand casually in his pocket, with his other hand he brushes back your windswept hair and gently runs his fingertips down the side of your face; caresses your lips with his thumb - light like the wings of a butterfly and finally lifts them to his, as you stare mesmerized at those angelically curved lips you've so often fantasized about.

In one swift stroke he slashes your neck open with the knife that was in his pocket, so quickly you don't even have time to scream and leaves you there, as you die in pulsating waves of blood.

SAME OLD SAME OLD

I've been avoiding this blog, because every time I begin writing, it becomes a tired rendition of what seems to have become my life - driving up to the Tucson Medical Center to spend quite literally just a few minutes with my brother, with the overhanging concept of amputation, possible amputation, scheduled amputation, changing the date of amputation.

I'm tired of the drive.

I'm tired of the visits.

I'm tired of the doctors/surgeons changing their minds. And opinions. And timing.

But of course, my brother is the one who is going to be losing his leg.

He is the one being forced to wait in the hospital ward, in the hospital bed.

So I really have no reason to complain.

But I am.

HOSPITAL AWKWARDNESS

We ask some questions in passing that are simply noise:

"How are you?"

And there are certain places were this little trivia inquiry come across as SOOOOO stupid.

The hospital is one.

It's also the wrong place to say, "Hope to see you again!" when you are leaving.

It's difficult almost anywhere to catch a person's eye and not have them immediately look away; it's almost a threat to most people.

But in a hospital, there is almost a sense of comradely - you're there because you are sick, someone you care about is sick, or you are taking care of people who are sick.

So the eye contact is easier and usually accompanied by some sort of facial 'chin-or-thumbs up' gesture.

When you've been there more than a couple of days, it seems like the people in the cafeteria almost recognize you - the cleaning ladies smile at you - the staff is easier to grab hold of.

And you learn the shortest way to the cafeteria - you know where the restrooms are - you even begin entering the hospital back through the laundry way because it's shorter.

For me, even the drive is becoming pretty easy. I stop at the convenience place before I get on I-10 -- I get a cheeseburger at In-n-Out on the way home -- and I seem to hit even red light on Kolb no matter how slow or how fast I do.

I just wonder how much longer I am going to be doing this.
 

FLESH-EATING BACTERIA

Flesh-eating bacteria sounds like something from a bad sci-fi movie.

Some alien life-form would inject the FEB into unsuspecting humans and then wait gleefully for them to be destroyed from within.

Unfortunately, it really does exist.

It's called necrotizing fasciitis, and it ain't pretty.

And the "flesh-eating" is inaccurate - the bacteria causes the destruction of muscle and tissue by release of toxins. Most cases are in people who do have some sort of compromised immune system (diabetes, in this case), and progresses very rapidly without treatment.

The doctors down here were puzzled why my brother's leg inflammation was not going down, and he was transferred to a hospital in Tucson for surgery to drain what they believed were pockets of pus in his leg between the bone and muscle.

That's when they found out it was necrotizing fasciitis.

It's difficult to see him unconscious with a ventilator doing his breathing and about 8 I.V. tubes going both in and out of him -- and it's frustrating to visit someone who has no idea that you are there.

But I'm going on back up early tomorrow (it's an almost three hour drive for me) out of a sense of obligation and also perhaps a chance to help in some way get through to his subconsciousness.

Yeah.

And no pictures with this entry - it's pretty gruesome looking.

A DEATH IN THE FAMILY

It's difficult as you watch loved one grow older.

They get grayer - they get more absent-minded - they get skinnier without trying.

And then suddenly they can't breath - their chest hurts - they need to see a doctor.

And if all things work together for their good, they pass fairly quickly.



Triple A (aka "Always An Angel") is the oldest of the seven horses I have been watching for the past two years for a friend who is stationed in Germany, and she began not eating anywhere near as much as she normally does two days ago.

When she is feeling healthy, there is very little that can deter Triple A from feed of any kind - and she will fight with the best of them to get it - so I was a little concerned, but also certain she would be back to her normal combative self soon.

Then yesterday, she refused to move - another unusual sign - and then shortly after everyone had been fed in the late afternoon, she collapsed.

And passed after only about twenty minutes.


As anyone who loves their animals knows, it's just as difficult as a human death - it's a family member gone.

And somehow having her body underneath a trap in the corral is worse. You can't just easily dispose of an equine body - it's $150 worth of digging for just the grave.



And you normally can't just hand the job off to a mortuary.

INTERACTIONS GREAT AND SMALL

Some people I love talking with.

Some people I dread.

My daughter has been here for the past week, with her husband and two simply wonderful children (not that this grandmother is at all biased), and it is pure joy to simply gab away with her for hours - about the kids, human nature, memories, life's experiences.

My brother has been hospitalized for this same period of time for a serious infection in his left leg. And it has been incredibly relaxing to not have to tip-toe around when he is resting, to be able to play music at a normal volume, and (yes, you guessed it) NOT have to talk with him.

Let me correct that last statement - to not have to listen to him. Conversations with my brother are extremely one-sided --- HIS side.

Since I do not, as he strongly and repeatedly states, have any taste in music, topics of discussion or really any areas of interest, I generally am expected to sit and drink in his expansive (and oft purely imaginary) expertise in a number of areas.

I like talking to my daughter much better.

2013 BEGINS

Every day is an opportunity to begin anew.

But it is nice to have a big calendar change to make it feel more official.

Although New Year's resolutions have been proven to rarely last past January 24th (in my case, not even past 3 p.m. on January 1st), they still are a chance to review the past year and begin once again to lose that 15 lbs., to finally quit watching that evening soap, to begin exercising regularly and write thank-you notes promptly.

Looking back, I realize that 2012 was a very difficult year for me. My husband returned from a year in Iraq - my older brother has been living with us - I've gone through more than one period of simply lying in bed for hours and hours just to try to escape the pain.


But our stake was reorganized, and I received a calling in Relief Society which I've never had before. I finally set aside most of the guilt about not doing more (read that "almost anything") with the horses. I did begin writing that novel. I've been pretty constant with this blog over the past few months. I have read quite a few new books.

I still have an extra 60 lbs. I am carrying around - but I am pretty healthy overall (well, except for my breathing problems, which are never going to go away in mortality). I finally have a hair-cut and some styling products that work for me. I got hooked on a couple more television shows - but I still watch relatively little T.V.

And I'd like to remember to stretch every morning at the beginning of the day - I've posted some word strips above the headboard of my bed to remind me to pray - I am continuing my membership in the gym.

That's enough for New Year's Day, at least for me.