For my moms.

I will be doing the DC Heart Walk next week. I’m walking in honor of my Mom, a heart attack survivor, and all around awesome lady. My goal is to raise 200 smackers.

The money raised goes to support the American Heart Association who funds research, public health education, community service, and professional training and education all related to cardiovascular health.

All donations are tax deductible, none are too small, can be made online, and will be much appreciated.

Welcome to the hotel california.

Around noon today my Mom was walking back to her shop after picking up some lunch. She tripped on some uneven sidewalk, fell, and broke her arm and dislocated her elbow. After an ambulance ride to the hospital, some x-rays, and a dose of painkiller that made her ill they carted her into surgery.

I spent most of the afternoon keeping my Dad company, wandering around the hospital, and waiting to hear how the surgery went. Allow me a moment to release some of the pent up randomness from the day:

• The doctor that performed the surgery carried a wooden box that contained some sort of instrument. I tried to get a look at the box, but couldn’t get a good enough peak to read it. The box alone put me at ease. To me it meant she was an über nerd. I can write my mundane thoughts on any old piece of paper, but I choose to carry around a Moleskine because I’m a paper nerd. To me this box was her Moleskine.
• I had actually gone drinking with the surgical nurse that did the pre-op checklist on my Mom. I figured the cusp of a major surgery was not the time to reminiscence about the couple hours we spent drinking in a hole in the wall bar with a mutual friend so I did not start the hey remember me dance.
• I spent some time starring at a huge screen TV that scrolled through all the operations going on that day. You were given your loved ones id# (ours was 56666) so you could track the progress yourself. The id#’ changed color as the patient went through the process. A highlight of green means in surgery, if it turns blue it means they are in recovery. It reminded me of an airport flight status board
• Hospital cafeteria pizza is pretty dismal, but I ate every last greasy spot of it.
• About the time my Mom took her spill I was driving back from lunch with some co-workers and the song Hotel California was playing on the car radio. I even asked my fellow passengers about the meaning of the song. While wandering around the hospital I came across a player piano that was playing Hotel California. It seemed to play it at least a couple times when I passed it. If I worked there I would smash the friggin’ thing. I now hate that song.

The most important thing to note is that my Mom came out of surgery with some extra metal in her arm, but fine. It will be a long recovery, but I’m sure she will be back to deploying her smacking arm on the back of head in no time.

The grocery list.

I just found a receipt from a trip my son and I took to the grocery store. We purchased the following essential items:

M&M Cookie Ice Cream Sandwiches
Carmel Filled, Fudge Shop Cookies
2 glazed and 2 sugar donuts
Frosted Mini-Wheats
Coffee
Shaving cream

Hair did.

I had a flat-top for a large chunk of high school and my Mom hated it. She often told me my head looked like a peeled onion.

Once she even tricked me into thinking that the barber had cut my hair crooked. I was all up in the mirror after she reported that my fresh fly fade looked lopsided. I turned away from my reflection to see her sniggering on the couch.

Over a recent lunch she noticed that I had some gray in my now bushy hair. She seemed amazed that her “baby” was all grown up and his head no longer looked like a peeled onion.

A nice house.

I see photo spreads of beautiful modernist homes like the Palabritas Beach house or the Skybox House and I really dig them. I try to imagine what it would be like to live in one.

Then I remember the other occupants that would come with me. And let’s face it, I am far from Felix Unger when it comes to house care. What would those awesome homes look like after a week of the wrecking crew in residence?

The nice window views of the Palabritas joint would be smeared with dog slobber. The awesome wood floors of the Skybox would be covered in a layer of super hero toys. Strewn throughout the once picturesque homes would be piles of unopened mail, sweaty kickball clothes, and other random junk.

But maybe that’s ok. Maybe those houses would be better if they were a little more lived in. Minus the sweaty clothes of course.

The day that never was.

I threw my back out today. It happens about once a year. The middle of my back just goes into convulsions and I’m left useless and stooped over.

I took some drugs I had from the last time this happened and was knocked out most of the day. I woke up around 5pm, confused and wondering where the day went.

I wonder if this is how future astronauts will feel after waking from suspended animation or hyper sleep?

My boys.

I had a fun day goofing around with my boys.

Bookmobile.

I have always wanted to open a used bookstore. It’s my dream job. I always envisioned a dusty old place, shelves jammed with books. I never thought of a mobile bookstore though. Very interesting. I now have a cross-over to my obsession with ice cream trucks.