Studly Doright is no fashion maven. Don’t get me wrong, I think he always looks good, he’s just never going to make the cover of GQ.
He is resourceful, though, when it comes to keeping his pants in place. Just look what I discovered when doing his laundry:
Studly has lost about twenty pounds. Had I lost the same amount I’d have bought a new wardrobe. But my husband? No, he just figures out a way to hold his pants up.
Peace, people!
…It’ll make a huge mess. If said tree falls into the neighborhood lake, it’ll make an even bigger mess.
Now we’re waiting on someone to quote us a price on Fallen Tree’s removal. It will not be cheap. Sigh.
Peace, people.
Found on a bathroom wall at a local car dealership:
I think that about covers it.
Peace, people!
Studly Doright, the love of my life, was out of town on business most of this week. Our cat, Gracie and I miss him when he’s gone.
He called me on his way home from Maitland, Florida, yesterday afternoon, so I had an idea of when he’d arrive. Still, I could have used a little warning. You see, he surprised me as I was applying my night cream and I poked myself in the eye. Now I look like this sans muscles and tattoos:
Perhaps spinach would help.
Peace, people!
The worst times are those
When I’m caught off guard
As I’m drifting into sleep
Or the first moments upon waking
When my primitive brain latches onto
An ugly hunger that needs slaking,
Baking ideas like malformed cookies
Question mark-shaped dough
And I force myself to move
In action there is solace;
If I’m busy, I don’t think
Must’ve been some kind of party going on last night.
Gracie isn’t allowed on the kitchen counters. She’s refusing to take responsibility for this apple which has fallen very far from the tree.
Peace, people.
That the Chicago airport would confound him.
That we wouldn’t make it into the virtual queue for a Star Wars ride at Disney’s Hollywood Studios.
I worried he’d think our family suite at the Art of Animation would be too childish, or that hanging out with his Nana wouldn’t be cool.
I worried I wouldn’t be able to keep up with my 18-year-old grandson for all the fun.
I worried about lots of stuff, but I forgot to worry about cancer.
Weird how I always seem to worry about the wrong things.
Friends, I debated long and hard about sharing this information on my blog, but my thoughts are all tangled up right now and maybe this will help me sort them out.
As many of you know, our grandson had an appendectomy last Monday. He wasn’t improving as expected and they took him back into surgery on Thursday to have a look around. They drained some fluid and inserted a drainage tube. Afterwards he felt better and we thought, “yay!”
Then this morning my daughter received a call from the surgeon. They’d found something called a neuroendocrine tumor in Garrett’s appendix. And it was cancerous. That damned word.
So, right now they’re letting Garrett’s post-op swelling subside. They’ll do some diagnostic tests to see what other organs might be affected, but it’s a given that they’ll remove his gallbladder in a procedure yet to be scheduled.
Prayers are welcomed. Good vibes appreciated. Our Garrett is a super smart, exceptionally kind young man bound for great things. We’re going to tackle this damned word and beat it.
Peace, people.
Studly Doright and I would appreciate your prayers and/or good vibes for our eldest grandson as he undergoes surgery this morning.
On Monday morning he underwent an appendectomy, but as of yesterday (Wednesday) he wasn’t improving. His temperature spiked overnight and they’re taking him back to surgery to see what else is going on.
The distance between Florida and Illinois has never felt so huge.
Peace, people.
I’ve built a fine raft
For the river of my life
Yet I’ve no paddle
Peace, people!
Praying for Eyebrowz 