April Fool's Prank

The temperature this morning was 36 degrees. The high later on was supposed to be 68 degrees. It's hard enough to dress for days like these. Usually, I go ahead and dress for the 68, and gut it out until it warms up.

On my way out the door this morning, I saw the cats' water dish was empty. I usually just leave the hose lying in the dish, and turn it on for a few seconds every couple days. Today I noticed that something had been attached to the end of the hose.

Upon closer inspection, I realized it was the lid from a soda bottle, and it fit perfectly on the end of the hose.

Neat!

But the cats still needed water, so I twisted the cap off the hose.

Apparently the child that had discovered that a soda lid fit the hose went as far as to pressure-test their new invention.

The moment I twisted the cap-

an arcing spray-

and I was doused with ice-cold water.

Hair, glasses, make-up, clothes, purse ... all drenched.

And did i mention it was 36 degrees outside?

The shock of cold water, along with the freezing air, I couldn't remember being that cold in a long, long time.

When I find out who did it, I'll wait until they are lying in their warm bed, and toss ice-cube-filled water balloons at them.

"April Fool's! Hahaha! You shoulda seen your face!"

Nibble, Nibble, Like a Mouse

Who's That Nibbling On My House?

People Can Now Insult My Children Properly!

"Your mother wears combat boots!"
I've wanted a pair of Doc Martens for a long time, but could never afford them.

All the kids today see Doc Martens and think "90's", but they go back a lot farther than that!

Around 1950, 80% of the sales of Doc Martens were to women over 40 yrs old.

It was on April 1st, 1960, the first Doc Martens were sold in the UK. 50 years later, they've been popular with just about every youth subculture along the way- skinheads, punkers, grungers, and eventually MTV-watching teens stuck in the suburbs trying desperately to make a statement about who they'd be if only they weren't, you know... stuck in the suburbs (a la Angela Chase in My So-Called Life).

Sixty years after their invention, we come full circle- this 40 year old woman wants a pair. They go with lots of different kinds of outfits, and they last forever. So while I'm saving up for a pair of my own, I came across a pair of patent leather combat-style knock-offs...

I call them Knoc Martens.

My Room Update

Okay, it's been two weeks. Time to keep my promise!

For those of you who have forgotten what my room looked like, you can see those pics here.

Peace Lily enjoying the filtered sun.

Bathroom

Chairs! And a table! Even a mini-trampoline!

The bed, and hope chest.

My side of the bed.

Close-up of my nightstand. Note the dried-on green Floam.

Floam is from the devil.

I freed the bug, but left the cup.

Ron's "Corner of Shame"

Cleaned-off Clirty Hooks

All my folded clothes. The eight on the right are mine.

All the hanging clothes I own- also proof to my mother that I didn't just cram it all in my closet!

Weight Bench

The last place still to clean: On top of the cubbies.

My room was so clean and inviting that Sadie and her friend came in and made themselves comfortable and stayed a while!

It was an interesting text.

God Looks Out for Fools, Drunks and Children

or...

"Ron Can Never Die"

Each year we put the canopy up on the back deck, which is 19 feet in the air. Ron usually does this alone, on a day when I'm away. It's a big job, and while he might appreciate my help, if I actually helped, but I usually just pace around wimpering, with 911 on speed-dial.

This year, I stayed on as photographer, mostly to be able to tell the paramedics exactly what happened.

More like a billowed sail.

Raise the Roof

Leaning toward the edge.

If your body crosses the plane of the railing, while holding on to nothing, it's not a touchdown- it's my panic attack.

It's okay! If I fall...

I'll land on the Rescue Heroes!

Is it worth it? When he doesn't fall off the deck, yes.

It's like being in a Treehouse!

Half Cyanotic, Sick, Hypnotic

Harrison has asthma and we have an appointment with a specialist next month.

Of course, that means his asthma chooses to flare up now.

Last night we were at a friend's house with indoor cats. Harrison played mostly in the bedroom that the cats also sleep in. Though he never seemed to react to cats before, his lungs started acting wonky, so I decided it was time to head out. Plus, it was three in the morning, and my mama taught me that anything past three am is overstaying your welcome.

Once home, Harrison's lungs failed to improve. He was using the rescue inhaler every hour. The new red ones don't even work. I scavenged around until I found what is probably the last white albuterol inhaler on the planet. Then we graduated to the nebulizer, which is supposed to work for 6 hours, but it was lasting for only two.

I had Harrison use the nebulizer right before I headed out for a one-hour appointment, and before the end of the appointment, he called me because he couldn't breathe. I talked Paige through setting the nebulizer up and dosing him again.

When Ron got home, I took Paige to 4-H, and Harrison to Urgent Care, where we waited over two hours to be seen. When we finally got into an exam room, the nurse listened to him, and placed a pulse oximeter on his finger.

Normal readings range from 95 to 100. His was in the 80's. The nurse fled the room.

There was no time to study the full color posters of sinuses.

There was no time for "what does that thing do?".

The doctor came in straightaway, took one look at Harris and said, "I've seen kids so cyanotic their fingertips were blue. I've seen kids with asthma so bad, their lips were blue. But I've never seen a kid with asthma so bad it turned their hair blue!"

Harrison smiled and tried to muster a weak chuckle.

The doctor immediately began treating him with a new type of medication in a nebulizer. After the breathing treatment, he still only registered between 90% and 92%.

It was time to pull out the big guns. If after an injection of steroids didn't turn him around, they were going to send him to be admitted.

The shot was pretty uneventful, especially considering he'd never had one, and we were given prescriptions to continue treating him at home.

Anyone with an asthmatic child knows it always gets worse at night, and that's where we are right now.

Ron made him up a place on the sofa right in the next room, but as I type this, Harrison is using the nebulizer in my bed, tucked between his doting parents.