Isn't the Last Day of School Supposed to Be the Best Day EVER?

As I picked up Little Dude from school - his last day of the school year - I noticed a long face and a very slow walk. I asked him what was wrong and, in a teeny tiny little voice, he said he didn't feel well.

I thought maybe he was overwhelmed by having to say goodbye to one of the best teachers in the world. Or maybe he was made because I was running late. It could have possibly been the heat (and humidity) of the day.

Well, as an experienced mother and nurse, I know there is often but one cure for all that ails a : Ice cream.

I offered my son some ice cream and he weakly said, "Okay."

He didn't even get through the whole thing. I wasn't worried about that, it was only forty-nine cents. What did bother me is that he NEVER doesn't finish his ice cream. Ever.

I eschewed all other errands and brought him home. He went over to the couch and curled up, pulling a blanket over him.

"You don't need a blanket! It's freakin' hot!"

I'm cold!

I'm sweating up a storm and he's cold? Crap! A quick check with the thermometer and I see he's at 102.1°. Out comes the Ibuprofen and the ice packs. An hour later, he's not looking much better. In fact, he seems to be "wilting". I check his temp again, 103.7°. I get out more ice packs, angle the fan at him, and pour him some Gatorade and do whatever else I can think to cool him down. I tell him he has exactly 60 minutes left on the clock to bring his temp down or we're going to the doctor.

An hour's a long fucking time when your has a temp that high.


Temp is finally down to 102.7°. Not great, but better. An hour after that, it's 102.2°.

He's finally cooled off enough to eat something and drink more. We're just hanging out on the couch waiting for him to fully recover.

Ugh! Wasn't the last day of school supposed to be like the best day EVER? One of these days.

I'll pretend this isn't a sign as to how the rest of the summer will play out for us. I want him to have a good two months.

See Chameleon, Lying There In The Sun

All things to everyone...

Yes,'tis the nature of jasmin live women in particular, to be all things to everyone. We push and we continue to push, even when we're exhausted.

Then we fall apart from the exhaustion.

And men wonder why we're so emotional?

Yeah. Right.

Have I mentioned I have blisters on my feet?

This is all semi-related. And the fatigue I currently feel has left me ditsy and rather goofy. Go figure.

This message has been brought to you by the never-forgotten Slade.

Da Roof, Da Roof, Da Roof is on Fire

It was like a scene from Monty Python -- the chain saw buzzing and the pounding from a few houses down went on for quite a while.

Shortly after I fell asleep, the sirens and activity outside had me wide awake.

Thankfully, no one was injured.

Sometime tomorrow, I'll explore a bit more the website terms.

Funny, I thought Vegas was supposed to be exciting.

LD and PC Update

Little Dude seemed a bit better yesterday morning before his dad came to pick him up. At least, his temp was hovering around 100°. I had Pain Clinic and there's no way I could have taken him with me - not fair to him or the other patients, y'know.

It had been a sleepless night. I can't sleep when someone in my house has a temp over 102°. With the do running well over that, I was afraid to close my eyes. It took many doses of ren's ibuprofen to bring it down. And then, just as it seemed the fever had finally broken, he woke up and said he thought he was going to vomit. Sure nuff, he did. Then the temp started to rise again.

At his dad's, his temp seemed to stay under 101 and that was a good sign. Yes, I called a bunch of times. I couldn't help it.

This morning, on my way to Pain Clinic, I called in to check on him. His temp spiked to over 102°. His cough has become more of an issue. It's tight. Really tight. I'm afraid he has pneumonia. Not fun. But, we'll wait to see what happens tomorrow. If his temp won't come down and stay down, off to the doctor he goes.

I hate not having him here when he's sick, but it's not fair to keep shuffling him back and forth when he's already uncomfortable. And, I can't miss any Pain Clinic appointments. I only get six weeks to learn what I need to manage my pain.

And let me tell you, not sleeping? That's not good for pain or mood. I got a bit surly with one of the people today. I felt bad, but I'd told her I hadn't slept THREE TIMES and couldn't wrap my mind around what she was asking. Still she persisted.

My favorite part of Pain Clinic is pool therapy. I can't describe how wonderful it feels to have warm water soothing my limbs. It's like heaven! In the jacuzzi, we do this thing where we're slightly buoyed, and yet, we have to free float. Don't worry, I'll explain it another time. The point is, I rather imagine this is how a fetus feels - floating in the warmth of all that fluid.

Well, that's it for updates on PC and my little sweetie. Thanks for the emails inquiring from chaturbate rooms live chat. I'm sorry comments are FUBAR. I don't know what's going on with Blacklist, but I know my other, non-blacklist-installed site is getting spammed something awful. I can only think Blacklist is working overtime to kill everything. And really, some of it's pretty damn foul.

Bear with me until I can find someone to fix things. You know where to find me at gmail if you need. Just type in my first and last names (for those who know them) and add that gmail domain. For those who don't know my first and last names, if you use this domain name at the not-d-not-e-not-f-but-gmail, I'll try to get back to you as soon as I can. I'm not as good about checking that account as I should be, but I do check every few days.

Thanks again, folks! I'm off to listen to my Joe Bonamassa You & Me CD again. Good stuff! Or, I may listen to my Refugee Allstars of Sierra Leone CD, also good stuff. I take my bliss where I can find it, y'all.


Crappy photo, but still a bright and shining moment in my otherwise shit-for-luck existence. Oh yeah, there's been more happening here than I can ever explain or than I would ever wish upon my worst enemy.

In brief: My dad ended up back in the hospital, the dining room light fixture was dripping water (all over personally inscribed posters - for the local blues society and for Little Dude), and a worm tried to eat the computer. That's the tip of the ice berg, but I do have faith it will all get better.

September is supposed to be one of the happiest times of the year, right? I mean, s go back to school and the temps are supposed to dip a bit...right? RIGHT? Sigh.

Anyhow, there you have it. Maybe I'll even give a link to a photo considered "unpublishable". We'll see.


Most of the blogosphere's been all over this already, but for the few who didn't know, Rob - Gut Rumbles - Acidman - whatever you called him, is gone. He was discovered dead around 2 a.m., with no obvious signs of what may have been the cause.

Rob in DaytonaFor those who read his site regularly, there was a post from a couple days ago where he stated this was the end. Of course, he posted right after that in typical Rob fashion. It wasn't the first time we'd read something like that. And, I had considered calling him, in fact, that was something I'd planned on doing for the last week. But I didn't call for fear of stepping on one of his land mines. Lest anyone think I'm speaking ill of the dead, think what you want, as Rob's friend, I was far too often caught in his line of fire and knew there were good times to call and bad times to call and heaven help the person who picked the wrong time! I learned to wait until it "felt" right. I was rarely wrong.

Rob was a fantastic and funny man, one of the best storytellers I've ever met. He loved his ren deeply, and the loss of time with his son did more damage to his heart and soul than his prostate cancer. He could be inspirational and he could be irascible. He could be infuriating as well. Under all of that, though, was a man haunted by things the rest of us can only imagine. Not even his oldest and closest friends knew all that went on in that tortured mind. In fact, I don't think Rob even really knew, or wanted to know. But that is wholly beside the point.

The simple fact is, Rob lived much of his last four years in profound psychic pain. No amount of adoration from the masses could soothe his soul or make him feel whole again. That just wasn't possible. And if his stint at Willingway couldn't help him, nothing could. Getting sober was easy, exorcising demons never is.

My friendship with Rob began shortly after I started blogging, in other words, less than a month after I began. He was one of the original two friends I'd made through my blog and it didn't take long before we were talking on the phone (which he said he hated to do, but our three hour calls said otherwise), emailing frequently, and then, bam! We were sitting on a beach in Daytona together. The photo above (the one that's graced his site for years) was taken on the balcony of the place we stayed in there in Daytona. That trip was one of the best vacations I've ever had. Rob and I laughed and cried and laughed some more. It was very hard to say goodbye.

Our friendship went through many phases, including one of intense irritation and aggravation. Frankly, there were times I flat out hated him. But deep down, I loved Rob - right from the first email. Some people are just meant to be a part of your life and Rob was, for ill or for good, meant to be a part of mine.

I will miss his delightful cackle, his deeply sweet Southern drawl, his promises to come visit (I'll likely always be a bit pissed that he let me down on that one), I'll miss his wonderfully warm songs, the beautiful music he created, and I'll miss not being able to have him watch, or at least hear, my son play the guitar Rob sent him.

And damn if it wasn't just last week that I was on the phone with a blues legend, telling him of Rob's kind gesture. You see, the guitar was sent to Little Dude because he'd seen this bluesman in concert. Rob had seen this man at Merle Fest and understood the inspiration. The guitar was Rob's contribution to my son's future as a musician/storyteller. He always did stuff like that.

For all our arguments and grumbling back and forth, we were friends. Good friends, true friends, real life friends. We showed the best and the worst of ourselves to one another.

Friendship, however, is not a cure for loneliness that resides deep within some of us, like Rob.

I'm sorry Rob is gone. I'll miss him. I know that he's out of pain now, free from all the thoughts and fears and memories that tortured him for so long. I wish he'd found a way to overcome those things without having to die, but Rob dealt with those demons the way he did for a reason and not one of us should have expected anything different.

Rob, I love you and I will miss you. You gave me more than a few good memories, my friend, and I'll never forget you for any of it.

Rest in peace, sweetie. Let your soul sing again.

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