Oh Jesse, how scary! I'm so glad you got him home safe and sound. Hope there's a simple plan for getting him to the program going forward.

And Consuela, sorry the one thing didn't work out, but fingers are crossed that something good comes through soon.

Sorry about the pool Kat. Your post makes me realize the phrase "crap... going down at my pool" takes me to one place and stays there. I had to reread several times.

HA. No. Nothing like that.

Our sister Y has a Masters Program that they are forcing on us at our Y one day a week. So, our lanes will go from 6 down to 2 and the 12+ who swim in those lost lanes will have to squeeze into the 2. Not happy.

I managed to get out and see fangirls tonight! And I think I've sorted my hotel bill.

I'm going to shower and pack and go to bed because I have to deal with the TSA tomorrow.

I was wondering if it was something like that. Our mid-morning lapswimmers apparently practically had a sit (swim?)-in when the arthritis-aerobics people wanted to make them go down to one lane from 3 (our max.) The funny part was it was retired folk vs retired folk, rather than the usual 9-5ers vs retired and afterschool. John(pool mgr) says his biggest headache is scheduling around retired, working and school kid needs.

Rain Hits the Southland. OMG, we even got some rain. It smells amazing. Cold as hell, but it smells like heaven.

I thought boxers were smartish. Maybe I just know shifty boxers and assume they are waiting to pass judgement and trust me.

It's hard to encourage independent folk to ask for help. My neighbor's dad...well, basically, they're at a point where hospice would make everyone's life better. But her mom is stubbornly resisting, even though she can't lift him when he falls. And if he gets out of the hospital this time, he won't be mobile. Sigh.

Mostly, I am really glad your Dad is okay, Jesse.

I think asking for help or admitting you need help is terribly hard.

There were times when my Dad was sick that we needed help and that just wasn't something that my stepmom could admit right away. Probably his care didn't suffer a lot. But it would have been better for him and really for us.

It's just really hard to admit or ask for the help. You are admitting so much in that. No one talks about hospice thinking the patient is going to suddenly improve. You are accepting that you are at the end.

It IS hard. Hello, I am a poster child (stuck on roof.) I'm just really feeling for A right now. *She* knows her mom needs help with her dad, she wants them to have it and she's an hour plus away and her mom won't even ask her for help. It's comic midwestern stoicism, except it isn't really funny. And she was in tears asking me to take out her trash, not because asking for that was hard but because she was so frustrated that her mother wouldn't even ask someone to take out the trash there and she was dealing with a nasty rotty can as a result.

I think hospice means something in Britain that it doesn't mean in America. Our friend in Ireland said "Are you getting hospice care?" and my blood went cold and I barely kept myself from saying, "No, God dammit, we're not there yet!"

Jesse, I am so glad your dad is okay.

And fingers (and toes and arms and legs) crossed for you Consuela.

I keep crashing after work and then not being to sleep at bedtime. Gah.

I think hospice means something in Britain that it doesn't mean in America. Our friend in Ireland said "Are you getting hospice care?" and my blood went cold and I barely kept myself from saying, "No, God dammit, we're not there yet!"

Ugh, I am sorry. Pretty sure it means really different things. And it's so very triggering here.

Do any of you read conniewonnie? I'm charmed by what Robert Krulwich posted of it here: [link]