There is a backlog of topics I've missed, so I think I'll just stick with the present.
Much progress has been made in Shitstorm 2007. Death, divorce, sudden divorce, break-up, bad break-up and devastating break-up have done a number on those in my circle of friends in recent weeks. Everyone gets points. Mad points. I will not name you here (unless you're into that -- just let me know) but rest assured, I have a chart. and you are in the lead. Others are just returning to the United States. I fear for the rest. If you're smart, you won't hang out with me for a while.
Today, a man threatened to subpoena me because I would not give him the phone number for an old lady who wrote in to express concern about illegal fireworks in her subdivision. The prez of the subdivision's homeowners' association said our letter caused him great devastation because it reflected poorly on him and the subdivision, and also because the real estate market crashed as a result of the letter or something.
I accidentally started laughing when he threatened subpoena because he obviously does not understand the basics of democracy, and also, this is not Valerie Plame Level Type Documentation here. But I would go to jail for her anyway.
`\ We're just receiving confirmation that all the Suck that has disappeared from my life has been smeared onto friends, which really isn't fair. I fear for those who are out of the country. Or perhaps this is the best way to avoid it.
This is your warning.
Have I told you about the STUFs?
Instead of regular insulation, our home has ground up bits of newspaper. This horrid substance was blown into the side of the house, and contractors say it works much better than that pink stuff the panther sells.
However, when you remove lath and plaster, when released, the STUF, which has been compressed between the wall studs for several decades, goes awry.
Although it looks relatively contained here,** the STUFs get everywhere. In your lungs, in thick piles on the floor, the kitchen counter, the ceiling fan. The STUF is unstoppable. A small area of stuff in the walls can become an 8-foot pile of STUF on the floor. We have a habit of writing STUF in the layers of STUF on the coffee table. Similar to the way people write "WASH ME" on dirty cars. Maybel LOVES to sit in the STUF. It should be noted in her profile.
Anyway, I'm happy to say that although we have no pictures to prove it, the STUF is, for the most part, tamed. We have removed it and re-insulated and drywalled this entire wall in our house. Only a small patch upstairs where the chimney was left to conquer.
Also of note, I am able to walk up the stairs onto a temporary landing. Before, I had stairs that met a chasm at the second story of our home. In other words, we got a lot done this weekend.
** Also pictured is the hole where the mystery cat pokes his head up from a ledge in the basement. The good news is that Maybel has learned a new command. "Get that cat" means "go run and stick your head in the hole," which is hilarious.
I write this with two baby deer playing in the woods. I just had some more ice cream. It has been unnervingly beautiful all weekend. We visited Seth's grandparents. I ...
We went to a church this morning at Kenyon College that reminds me (hold your breath) of our church in Athens. Remember the one? It was small, with a mix of college and old-timers, with a really energetic pastor 'on loan' from New York.
I wish I had a photo of this guy.
He's a mix of Kramer, stereotypical Jewish dude and Italian mobster. Very strange. Basically, imagine Yiddish words in an Italian accent with exaggerated mannerisms. It's enough to keep the focus off the sermon at times.
We attended another First Friday -- notably more pleasant than the first -- and toured Knox County's old Buckeye Candy & Tobacco Company Building. On the tour, they showed plans for this exciting project.
Bringing the weekend full circle, while at a lunch after service in the basement of the church, we were talking to Some Dude Called Mark about our first impressions of Knox County, and when we mentioned the project, he was like "yeah, I own that building."
He also has lunch recently with Zach Space, but was a financial contributor to Bob Ney. What the hell is going on.
Did you know Knox County does not have ONE homeless shelter?
ok, i call it. no more emotion until 2010. especially sadness and/or extreme relief. those are right out.
the verdict on attending the calling hours and funeral for an 88-year-old patriarch? i suppose it was tougher than i originally planned.
especially the part where my cousin, the felon-turned-family-rockstar, spoke about how grandpa taught him to be a man.
and especially the part where the youngest son, slaying his own honestly-earned demons of stubborness and pride, stood up to speak about three days before grandpa died when my uncle had a chance to pray with him, and the old man, who could not speak, cried out to god "in a way that i know God could not ignore."
wow. I always had a feeling that uncle lee would be the one to bring it home. not that i knew the condition of my grandpa's soul to begin with.
death and god and family are topics much too easily avoided these days.
did you remember? you are going to die one day. maybe even tomorrow. you might be dead already.
did i tell you? i grew up across the street from my grandparents. until 1999, we were the 3 Sunny Drive to their 7 Sunny Drive. it was cute. were you aware? there is a spacial and chemical reaction that occurs when my mother and her sister cry in the same room. it can bring down an entire nation.
but man, could we all be so lucky? a packed house, and everyone was there, in one way or another, because of him. they played Trust and Obey, his favorite hymn. there were rain clouds. sun in other parts. it was perfect.
i used to think many things are cheesy that i now think are valid.
Monday grandpa passed out in the yard. 100-percent Reliable Fayette Memorial sent him home with a candy bar and told him to rest up. Earlier today his legs went numb and the ambulance took him to the hospital. They did a Catscan and again told him to go home and rest up. Just as aunt donna and uncle mike had him settled, they ordered a pizza. The doc called around 5 and told him there was bleeding on the brain in two spots, a handful of hematomas, etc., and that, 'by they way, come back to the hospital because we are going to life-flight you to Riverside in Columbus.'
Once back in the friendly halls of Riverside, a few doors down from my sister's old room, we learned that the spots on the Catscan might be from a long time ago. Grandpa was born on March 15, 1919. He winked at me and asked about the pig. Within seconds, five out of six of my grandpa's children, and many of his children's children, were on hand. We filled a waiting room. Many of these people live far away but happened to be in town at the time.
At least they have good timing with their brain bleeds. The usual thing with the waiting and the watching for the next few days. The nurse recognized my mother.
Amanda, consequently, had been at Riverside all morning for a check-up.
Everyone remains skeptical of certain medical professionals.
I am considering purchasing a VIP parking spot near the hospital cafeteria.
Do you guys remember how I didn't pay taxes last year?
I got confused about being married and ended up claiming Seth as a dependent for the entire year of 2005.
After owing Uncle Sam, like, $500 last year, I switched the all-important number on my 1040 (that 0,1 or 2 really does matter) and the government began withholding money from my paycheck. or so i thought.
Last night, during our internet tax/pizza party, seth and i discovered we owed $2,100. Does anyone understand how this is possible? I don't really know anything about tax brackets, but I'm pretty sure we are not rich.
We tried several programs and each time, the $2,100 figure came back to haunt us. Our finances are pretty simple, I thought. Lots of interest payments = a handful of deductions. My company pays me in canned goods, etc.
This fee is problematic now for the following reasons:
1.) the temperature is 25 degrees below normal for this time of year, and shows no signs of warm-up, thanks, Crystal "the C***" Davis. 2.) we have a hole in our plywood floors and a chimney that needs to come down. 3.) we have disconnected the heating ducts that were once supported by aforementioned missing floor. 4.) the necessary gas lines and electricity required for HVAC are currently disabled. 5.) We had that money in savings to address items 2-4. 6.) May mortgage 7.) new brake pads for the Honda 8.) groceries 9.) marriage
and ... this is when it really gets good...
this morning, while i was in the shower, seth informed me the water was backed up and emptying out into the basement. we had a feeling that was going to happen. and i think Maybel has another health problem, which we will not go into detail here.
My immediate reaction is hysteric, uncontrollable laughter. Seth is more of a "punch through the wall," kind of guy as of late. At least that one has to come down anyway.
In conclusion, there have been a handful of trials in the new year. Most of them are self-inflicted.
You're testin' me, Killee McGee!!!
Despite all, I feel a really strange comfort. If I was a religous woman, I'd say it feels like hope. But i'm not, remember? I'll just attribute it to the fifth of Vodka I had for breakfast.
On Sunday, Seth dropped a giant 2X10X14 floor joist on my knee cap.
as far as permanent damage is concerned, nothing really happened, but moments after the blow, I almost passed out. It wasn't too terribly painful or anything, but I just felt really dizzy, the white haze returned, and I couldn't move my arms or legs. It was such a weird sensation. A few moments later, Seth said I had my hands on the wall and was pawing at the floor with my leg. I just remember waking up in the hammock outside. It was sunny.
The same thing happened when I sliced my hand with a hot butcher knife. Any sort of blunt trauma, and I'm out cold. It's really embarrassing because theses are not what I would call "pass-out" level injuries. My tiny body just can't handle the change, I guess. Conclusion: I'm never going to be able to give birth.
The only other item worth mentioning during the 48-hour HammerFest 2007, was that Saturday afternoon, a van pulled up to the side of the house, which was strange.
Out came Carlo, and unfortunately for him, Carlo was a carpet cleaning salesman. The No. 1 phrase you don't want to hear from potential customers: "Umm ... we just ripped up all our carpets and removed the floors."
Carlo knows how to pick 'em. He did enter us in a drawing for 50 bucks. Maybel got mud all over his pants before he left.
i'll wait until you stop laughing before i continue.
ok.
exhibits a and b:
sometimes when we get bored painting and falling through ancient floorboards, we tear down walls. i know i explained we would be working on the new floors this weekend, but unfortunately, it has to happen in this order. the stairs are scheduled for execution at half time.
not only am i not crying, but i am supportive and investing myself in this project. i am colleen rankin, only i'm making more lunches. i have been told that some women would not respond in the same way. fyi -- i'm a real keeper, boys.
well, truth be told, i'm blogging right now. mostly to freak out my parents. but the sound of a sledgehammer continues in the next room, so i'm going to go use the stairs to get into the bedroom for the last time. we are teetering on the edge of structural stability. stay tuned.
they better have a meeting before they come in and try to talk to us in their fancy leather jackets with thier watches.
ever get the feeling treating your sister's brain is the equivalent of a pissing contest to a plethora of interns, partners, chiefs of medicine and surgeons? that the cutters and pasters and the radiology dudes are all jockeying for position to be the one that gets in there first?
the problem is that we want an answer now, and 37 million doctors of various levels have each looked at one piece of the puzzle.
so they come in the room hoping to -- i don't know, impress us or comfort us or vomit random words, I'm not sure -- and if they're not saying "we really have no information about that," then they're picking an arbitrary time table (four to six weeks, ten to 14 days, six to eight months) and then they pick a weapon (a knife, some glue or some radiation) and then they pick the result (she'll be ready to run a marathon in six weeks, there is a 30 to 50 percent chance she'll be paralyzed or in a coma, etc.) and then they give us some shit about how "dynamic" the human brain is and that even after a combination of cut, copying and pasting treatments, they never know what they are going to find until they get in there, it could take several attempts, etc.
the latest guy, Dr.GloomAndDoom, wanted to talk about how close her injury was to her brain stem. the guy earlier called it a "straightforward" procedure and acted like she'd be in and out, maybe with no treatment at all.
fucking doctors.
i'd like to hope that what these people lack in social skills, they make up for in their ability to wield a surgical knife. don't tell families scary shit when you haven't looked at the jpegs, my brother.
the good news is that Amanda is doing awesome. for two hours tonight we were ordered to keep her awake, so she sat up in a chair, ate some dinner (and kept it down) and even made the trip to the sink to brush her teeth. we did her hair. it looks awesome.
she told me not to blog about any of this, but i've trained a parrot to repeat "i'm sorry" and i plan to leave it in the hospital room with her while i'm gone. plus, people want to know, right? i'm not sugar coating anything for you, family member/friend/random passerby. your support has kept us going through this crap.
even though you'd rather have left a voice mail, i'm glad you let me talk to you. that goes for you. and you! (and you) but not you.
Amanda is sleeping now. She's awful loopy, but I'm pretty sure she knows what's going on. And she's cracking jokes. Decent ones at that. Maybe that's a bad sign. Anyway so I guess I'll start from the beginning for those who have only a panicked call from me at midnight yesterday. I mean today? I'm not sure.
Yester-today was my mom's 47th birthday. Twenty-three years prior, she gave birth to a little blond-haired brat with legs till Tuesday, a tendency to fall in ditches and an Arterio-Venous Malformation. For 23 years, four arteries fed her brain with oxygenated blood. One of these "brain trees" one was missing some branches. This increased the pressure on the trunk of the branchless tree, and it became weak.
Twenty minutes into my mother's 47th birthday dinner, this brain tree started to bleed. She said she had a bad headache and her boyfriend drove her home. We thought she had better parties to attend, so when we called to check in about a half hour later, we were surprised to learn she "was in a bad way," B.J. said, asking us to come over to her apartment.
Just picture a trying to pick up a pale drunk girl passed out on the bathroom floor and every time you touch her she screams and vomits. Except she hadn't had a sip of alcohol. Fast forward twelve hours later and we still don't know anything about brain trees, headaches or why my sister can't move her head without barfing.
I don't think there is anything worse than waiting on test results for a loved one in the wee hours at a hospital. When your little sister is lying on the bed, scared to death, "unfortunately we did find some bleeding," being all that they would tell us.
There was a lot of staring until I picked up father at the airport at 6:40 a.m. He had been navigating his way through LAX three hours earlier. We had some Pizza Hut. I felt stupid for all the things I've thought about ever.
Around maybe 11:30 a.m., we met with the Brain Pasting doctor, of the Neurological Cut and Paste team. We learned about AVM then. We learned this was a rare case because she is so young. They treat about 20 bleeders like this per year. Most of them are older. The AVM is small, but in a tricky area near the brain stem. Lots of words no one understands, etc.
So next, the blood clot in my sister's brain has to dissolve without damaging any of the surrounding tissue. They'll probably keep her in the hospital at least a few more days.
The cutting and the pasting doctors are meeting tonight and will decide tomorrow how best to proceed. The likely scenario is bedrest followed by gluing part of her brain, and then cutting some of it out in 4 to 6 weeks.
I think I went to Cleveland.
This is so ... Effed up.
Thank you guys so much for all the calls and texts and prayers and blubbery-talking. I have the best friends ever. You mean the world to this little Teterbot. I know I can call you if I need anything.
1. This happened when we were with her. 2. She wouldn't have gone to the hospital if she had been alone. 3. In the ER, her physician's name was Dr. Kwak. 4. God is a tricky, tricky man.
what your beef might be with god, but please pray for my little sister, who is in the neuro critical care unit at Riverside this morning because of some sort of thing that our family does not quite understand yet. it's not an aneurysm, but it's some sort of bleeding on the brain that might require surgery. it was explained to us that it stems from a birth defect. arteries not connecting to veins properly. she's stable. we're just waiting on the surgeon. I'll update later today. Call on my cell if you need us. tell other people to do the same.
One year ago today I gave up blogging for Lent. Although it seemed a bit too Catholic a thing to do, the blogging had creepily entered my life and overtaken most of the evening with my husband who actually felt real-life jealously toward a laptop.
Lent seemed like good enough excuse, and I had some quasi-ideas about how those who do without somehow come out stronger for it at the end. Granted, in the Bible, it was food and water, but I was sure the same transformation would occur if I sacrificed web logging.
Instead, I said I would spend that time in deep religious meditation. By April 2006, I would emerge renewed, refreshed and would no longer by bogged down keeping up with the Internets (which, believe it or not, can happen.) I attended a Mennonite church and knew people who would do things to alleviate, say, poverty in Columbus, without setting up ten committees and Sunday BBQ Share Groups prior to. They also did not jump up and down during worship services. I was also shopping for a mortgage.
Today, in the back of Angie's car, I read a few passages of real-life scripture in Silent No More and made fun of Rod Parsley. Although not fully developed in my blog, trust me. This moment speaks volumes.
My famous phrase around the house is "We've really got to ..."
We've really got to shovel the driveway. We've really got to pay that student loan bill. We've really got to have them over for dinner. We've really got to clean the pig shit out of the garage. We've really got to go to church.
Seth likes to point out that the times I've talked about what 'we've really got to do' is actually more than enough to time to do these things.
That's why, for Lent this year, I've decided to give up talking about how I wish I was still religious. About how I wish I had friends within an hour's drive who were comfortable enough to call me on my bullshit. About how in order to truly walk the walk, I need "a strong community." "Carrying the cross." The whole nine yards. I'm done with it.
If I really cared about the shit in the garage, I would clean it out. For 40 days, the same will apply for Jesus.
Name: Seth
Alias: Teth Seter or Steter.
In Brief: The Steter in his natural habitat. Married to theteet.blogspot.com since August 2004. Often the victim of serious hyperbole. Handy.
Hates: Noise, Dominion Homes, above-the-nipple touching, when people get 'handsy.'
Loves: pies (of any kind), dirt, smoking a pipe after eating pie. also, cows.
Name: Maybel
Alias: The Pig or Boobles.
In Brief: Kentucky-born English Bulldog since February 2006.
Hates: Watermelon. All other kinds of melon. The sound of a new trash bag being opened and sitting in the back seat.
Loves: Treats, walks, Charlie, 'humping it out' and barfing.
Name: Amanda
Alias: The Sister.
In Brief: theteet's younger (but larger) sister. Survived a brain bleed in February 2007.
Hates: minor inconveniences that make her blurt out uncontrollably, brain bleeds.
Loves: UFC, cornhole, texting, fast food and her dog Charlie.
Name: mom and dad.
Alias: the 'rents.
In Brief: Ashland natives and frequent visitors. They taught me how to swear.
Hates: hospitals.
Loves: squirrels and lattes.
Name: Mae
Alias: Klingler or Maddog.
In Brief: Cincinnati resident and former college/Old Towne East roommate. Once wrote a song that made theteet cry.
Hates: Hate.
Loves: Jesus, family, puns, guitars and gardening.
Name: Colleen
Alias: Crankin and Rankin.
In Brief: Akron resident and former college roomie. Arguably more handy than Seth. Nice bosom for hugging.
Hates: all drivers.
Loves: beer, coffee, cigarettes and boys we all find strange.
Name: Talya
Alias: Strader and Sweet T.
In Brief: Chicago resident and former college roomie. served brief stint at theteet's 'accountability partner.' collects monthly fee for keeping quiet.
Hates: people who do not comment on her blog.
Loves: social justice, eggs, her boyfriend monsterbeard and the occupation of barista.
Name: Chris
Alias: Christopher, Monsterbeard and Nadine.
In Brief: Chicago resident and college buddy. Maker of 'We once waited up in the dark with a gun,' and other misadventures.
Hates: people who are looking the other way.
Loves: history, film, his girlfriend Strader and acronyms.
Name: pdawg.
Alias: none needed.
In Brief: Former co-worker who is willing to eat waffles with theteet at 4 in the morning regardless of level of snow emergency.
Hates: anyone under the age of 35.
Loves: Hostess pies, old man rants and golf.
Name: Linsly.
Alias: MERLIN, lin or newbie.
In Brief: Former co-worker who lived with us for a week. I can tell this kid anything. He's like a brother.
Hates: sexual predators.
Loves: zombies, guns, porch chats and movie quotes.
Name: jaydubs.
Alias: jwray and 10bagspacking.
In Brief: Co-worker who taught me everything I know about the world.
Hates: mean jokes, mushrooms, clipping fingernails in the office.
Loves: crafts, her gay-together but also betrothed person Kyle, Columbus Bride Magazine, veggie-friendliness and basil.
Name: jessica.
Alias: jessm.
In Brief: College buddy with the amazing handshake. I believe she might be back from Alaska and living in Hudson now.
Hates: poverty.
Loves: Jesus, jazz, geography and hilarious t-shirts.
Name: brittiny.
Alias: Brit-Brat, experimental dater or The Dunlap.
In Brief: Former co-worker (notice a theme here?) who started with me at SNP on the same day. Former Sorority president taught me the ropes of being a lady. her wisdom did not take.
Hates: visible pany line.
Loves: cocktails, shoes, 'the blue box' and her boyfriend the Lizard.
Name: garth and jen.
Alias: not safe around house plants and the real spider-man and/or HSnothingswronghere.
In Brief: Co-worker couple who proved themselves fun at work and on the farm. Periodically forced to kiss in gas station parking lots.
Hates: local broadcast news reporters.
Loves: zombies, movie quotes, Indianapolis and lin rice.
Name: Angie.
Alias: captain cool.
In Brief: Former co-worker who stole my heart. She is the only thing I've ever lost to the Youngstown Vindicator.
Hates: joe and misogynists.
Loves: celebrity gossip, hilarious captions, biking/hiking, her boyfriend Jef, her mom and Columbus.
Name: Melville.
Alias: welcome to earf or bad town.
In Brief: Former co-worker who let me inherit his seat at SNP. For a while, he was the only one who would talk Reynoldsburg politics with me.
Hates: fleas, eminent domain and people who flip the bird.
Loves: his evil cat, running, opinions, beer and Tom Waits.
Name: The Gerish.
Alias: The Gerish.
In Brief: Co-worker and rare, elusive creature. If you're lucky, you'll see a tousle of black hair breeze by over the cubicle wall.
Hates: Things that aren't crackers.
Loves: crackers.
Name: Dennis.
Alias: secret reading.
In Brief: Co-worker and rare, elusive creature. If you're lucky, he'll walk over and talk to you. But he probably won't. Once took my sister-in-law to Homecoming.
Hates: The damn kids who walk in his yard.
Loves: Corgis, Cedar Point and Rachael. But not the one you're thinking of.
.jpg)
