12:26 a.m., but it's really only 11:26 p.m., so I shouldn't be tired, yet . . .

Once again, sorry for the lapse of time between posts . . . I did have a nice big ol' post written, complete with video of me wrapping Bob's leg for your viewing pleasure—Bob doing the "videography" using my phone—but the effin' thing wouldn't upload (I dunno, maybe the video file was too big for Blogger, maybe my phone didn't "communicate" well with my computer, who knows), so I deleted the video and just carried on. and on. and on. . .

Overall, things are pretty quiet up on Walton's Mountain. We're hangin' tough out here, things remain status quo, no major changes with Bob other than some random days of crazy-intense nerve pain episodes. Thankfully, they're not a constant deal, but plenty frequent enough and when they happen, the pain is so intense that at times, I swear I can feel it shoot across the room and innervate my own body . . . we were trying to figure out if something is triggering the episodes, but really can't pinpoint anything specific; they're quite random. We're working with Bob's hospice nurse to try some med changes and other things and hopefully get some positive results, soon. My sis, Gretch, has done some healing touch sessions with Bob in the past, which really help to calm and relax him, so we may see if she can come again (maybe once a week or so) as a complementary, holistic approach in addition to meds . . .

Despite (in spite?) of the pain Bob's dealing with, we've been trying to get out and about a few times this week . . . Penny and Jim were up last weekend, just for a day—went to Nacho Mama'sin Stillwater for lunch on Sunday (note about that cute li'l hole in the wall, which it literally is: you could share an entree with someone and still have leftovers for another meal! Good food, but ridiculously huge portions! Not that I'm complaining, because the leftovers were dang tasty the 2nd day, too, but still, had we known . . . ). Penny and Jim came up again today, we crossed the river to San Pedro's in Hudson for a late lunch. Again, superb grub (and this time, Bob and I shared an appetizer and an entree—smart move on our part. As of 11:45 tonight, still feeling the stuffed . . .) and divine dessert. Highly recommend the joint, and you must try the habanero chocolate cake . . . my sis, Jill, and her kids popped out for a visit this afternoon, as well, so was a busy day. We've been trying to plan a sleepover with her and the kidlets, as Amelia is itching to show Bob her new owl pj's (her original idea, when she saw them in the store, was to buy them for Bob, but alas, they only came in kid sizes . . . ), but Jill's family has been passing around a late-winter bug among each other for weeks now, and are only just beginning to feel better. Maybe next weekend . . .

We are so looking forward to the promise of warmer weather that is looming in the not-so-distant forecast, hopefully to melt the fortress of snow encapsulating Wrenwood, might even be able to see our neighbor's house across the street for the first time in months. . .

Sorry for rambling along here. . . I always feel that I could have so much more to say, but I'm kind of done philosophizing on our whole deal for a while, maybe forever, and just need to stick the mundane, the benign—I mean I could restart the thread on the lines of, "So about this horrific earthquake and tsunamis in Japan . . ." which weighs heavily on my mind and in my heart these days, and how it relates (or doesn't) to "God never gives you any more than you can handle . . ." or how could I possibly pray for a miracle to spare my husband when 10,000 people, most of them very likely wonderful human beings, have just been wiped from existence . . . but I've kind of exhausted the argument that people are handed crap all the time, every day, that they can't handle . . .

Perhaps some day, after a few glasses (i.e., bottle) of wine/liquid courage to back me, I'll take on that challenge again, but these days, I've lost desire and interest in trying/wanting to share, explain, defend—whatever—the intricacies of the good and bad, the holy and evil, the beautiful and ugly of life these days. It's deep, it's wide, covers so much ground, too many emotions, layers upon layers deeper than deep that defy and refute neat, tidy, shallow explanations, trite cliches or hollow platitudes . . . yet, at the same time really, truly, is so very simple, which makes it so hard to explain and/or understand. That life simply happens, and we derive purpose and meaning through our own deeply personal reactions and choices, not by what someone else says we should do/say/think . . . And since I told my mom I'd try (didn't promise . . . ;) and avoid the phrase "bitch slap" in the blog from now on, I'll work hard on biting my tongue and just keepin' it simple. And sometimes downright stupid, I see, now that I'm re-reading this . . .

As I've said numerous times, our days are quiet, uneventful, blessedly mellow. I keep myself busy helping Bob with his stuff, as well as with little projects around the house: just installed new shower heads in both showers, a new smoke alarm in the living room, changed furnace filters (hey, guess what? They really do need to be changed every month!), have ongoing projects of cleaning/consolidating our offices, purging closets . . . the last of the snow slid off our roof the other day, which gave me the additional despicable task of clearing the remnants of that hot, sloppy mess. Top that off with shoveling here and there thanks to those freakin' nuisance snowfalls of 1-2 inches now and again, and our days fly by . . . Bob's been a big help, folding laundry, rolling leg wraps, tormenting (distracting) Rocco so I can get other things done. . . still cooking a lot, in spite of going out for dinner once or twice a week: honey ginger shrimp with cilantro-lime rice last night; beef stroganoff with shittake and crimini mushrooms over brown rice, with steamed asparagus . . . just made the tastiest and dare I say--healthy?!--whole wheat-oatmeal-chocolate chip-almond cookies (yes, all in one cookie!) yesterday. All natural ingredients, nothing processed or refined, organic if possible. I've been knockin' back 3-4 cookies, per meal. Like Charley Sheen, I have one speed (as far as cookies go) and that's go! It's how I roll, peeps. . . (I can't believe I just worked Charlie Sheen into the blog. I have been watching waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too much t.v. . . O Spring, you cannot come soon enough . . .)

With some nicer weather finally peeking its head around the corner now and again, we also trying to get out and about for other little outings a tad more frequently, even if it's just to Target or the grocery store for a few things. It's nice to get out, not only to leave the tired ol' confines of the house and into fresh air and new surroundings, but also so we can get more practice in the fine art of maneuvering a walker and/or crutches and/or wheelchair through what we're discovering is the very un-handicap accessible world in which we live. . . holy shit, Batman, a huge eye-opening experience. . .

A note to Barnes and Nobel in Woodbury: you have a million handicap parking spots in your parking lot, yet the only way into the joint is through a set of humongous, solid wood, heavy-as-unholy-hell doors that belong on a castle, not a retail store, with no magic button to make them open???!!!! WTF, seriously?!? Do you possess a perverse sense of humor?? If someone with a walker or crutches, or even a parent with a kid in a stroller happened upon your store and wished to enter, they'd have to stand outside in the freakin' elements and wait for someone to come along to open the door for them!

AND on the flip side of that, a loud and proud shout-out to the new Target Mega-Super-Ultra-lopolis in Woodbury: not only do you have a million handicap parking spaces, but you also have magic doors that open for everyone, regardless of ability, race, gender, sexual orientation or anything! AND a huge number of scooter/basket-combo 4-wheeler thingies! They were immensely helpful (and fun! It was evident Bob really enjoyed zippin' around corners on two wheels, nearly taking out other shoppers . . . ) as we meandered (well, I meandered, Bob zipped . . .) through the acres upon acres of retail aisles, purchasing things we really didn't need amidst the things we did . . . Target is the MasterMind behind the concept: "Come In for Batteries, Leave with a Cartload of Shit You Don't Really Need," of which I'm a faithful follower. Though I must admit, this past year, I've reigned that in substantially, just one of my many money-saving principles put into practice. . . we're trying our damnedest to become more a part of "the real world" again, though for endless reasons, easier said than done. Handicapped or not, this winter has been a tough one on everyone, and I'm sure many have chosen to hibernate rather than be out and about, if given a choice.

Sooooooo . . . our other li'l project (that's turning out to be more work than I realized) has been working on putting together an Etsy.com site for Bob's photography. (For those who aren't familiar with it, Etsy is "a social commerce website focusing on handmade and vintage items," their credo being, "Buy, Sell and Live Handmade.") I was so astounded with the overwhelming response to Bob's photos at the benefit, that we decided to make them available for anyone and everyone to purchase. We'll start with card sets, and at some point, hope to have canvas prints available. Etsy is free, and easy way (relatively) to get Bob's photography "out there" and into an online store, and available to a wide audience. My goal is to have the site up and at 'em sometime this week, and I will update the blog with all necessary details when we're ready. Please have patience with me, as it's more time consuming than I thought, main reason being having to go through the literally thousands of images of Bob's and trying to create "collections" of cards. . . I will print the first ones out myself, but may end up enlisting in the help of a photo developer, to make things quicker. . .

We do the name of the online "store" chosen: Prairie Smoke Gallery. The prairie smoke is one of Bob's favorite native wildflowers—he's taken dozens of images of the ethereal, feathery flower (we have a large canvas print of the wildflower above the fireplace in the basement, of the photo at the top of this entry). The name prairie smoke, for me, is also somewhat of a metaphor for our life this past year and a half, conjuring images of raging prairie fires, fraught with violent devastation, tearing across the landscape . . . but when the fire burns out and the smoke clears, amidst the charred remains, something amazing occurs—the prairie begins its painstaking rejuvenation process. . . plant life pushes up through the blackened ground, animals return, eventually, the prairie recovers, stronger and more vibrant than before. . .

It is my hope that we can create something beautiful from the wreckage that has swept across our lives this past year and a half, if in no other way than to bring joy to other's lives by sharing his breathtaking images . . . but, I'd like for it to be even deeper than that; just how, I'm not entirely sure. I've got some pretty strong ideas, but the fine details are what we're still pondering. Part of my feels so strongly that not enough is being done to make childhood cancer survivors (and the general medical community, as well) aware of the potential yet very real horrors that lay in their futures, and that perhaps proactive measures could be taken to catch these potential problems earlier . . . I know I'm up against a huge looming moster with that task, as I've seen time and time and time again that our medical system is not a proactive one, and it's my conspiracy theory that it never will be, because it's just not profitable. . . Bob's insurance company has paid out over two million dollars to the U in just one year. . .two fucking million dollars in endless reactive care . . .

Another part of me is so deeply grateful for the love, support and generosity that has been been bestowed upon us throughout the past year and a half, and I wish to somehow pay it forward . . . the opportunity for me, for now, to continue to be at home full time and care for Bob and just have him here with me, is at the same time the most difficult yet the most rewarding place I've ever been in life, an honor and a privilege that, without the immense support of friends, family and even complete strangers, simply wouldn't be possible . . . in these difficult times, it's underscores a simple, simple life lesson, that really, the only reason we're here on earth is to be kind to each other, to take care of one other. We can't stop horrible things from happening, to us, to those we love, even to those we don't know . . . But we can help each other through it all . . . it's about all we can do . . . anyhow, stay tuned for more about Prairie Smoke Gallery. . . so tired. So time for bed . . . xxooxx!