Leather-bound creepiness

This item is fascinating: http://www.bostonathenaeum.org/highwayman.html. An account of a highwayman bound in his own skin. Sounds like the beginning of a Lovecraft story.

Rick rules

Okay, my brother is super-cool. Check out his reasoned discourse: https://www2.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30756176&postID=3306288675288068173

He's John Dickinson in 1776 right now, and his wonderful wife is playing Abigail Adams. See “1776…wow”: http://www.floridatoday.com/blogs/extremeculture/

The fun never stops

OK, not to be whiny, but noroviruses are NOT fun. Ohhhh, no. Take it from me, who spent the past 2 days in bed. My muscles are still sore from…well, I'll spare the graphic details. I'm beginning to feel normal, slowly. 

Must tell this on myself. Insanely stupid story. J brought some lovely soup. T only let them come as far as the front door, as I was plague-ridden. I heard from the top of the stairs that she also brought pasta to stir in, as well as some Bombay mix that was actually from Bombay that she didn't care for. Ah how nice, a snack for T, thinks I.

That evening, I go down to warm up the soup for dinner, as T still isn't allowed to lift our Calphalon (not for another 4 weeks anyhow). Poured the soup into the Dutch oven. Huh, that's a lot of very odd looking pasta, I thought, picking up with square plastic container. Shrugged, dumped it in. Stirred it up. Smelled good. Stirred it some more, it started bubbling nicely. Then I noticed, on the right hand of the countertop (which is a mess, since neither of us have felt like cleaning up), a small baggie of little pasta. 


I'd just stirred the Bombay mix into the soup.

I told T. I've never seen him that speechless before. He literally did a double-take. His mouth moved. No sound emanated. “All of it?” he asked.

I confess, I cried. And laughed at the same time. (Is that called hysteria?) It was such a stupid thing to do, but I was feeling so worn down and overwhelmed by it all.

I'm better now.

But T loved the soup. I ate a lot of it too and it was very good. I think I invented Bombay chicken soup or something.

Demise of Dragon and Dungeon

S pointed out to me today the announcement that Paizo will cease publication of both Dragon and Dungeon magazines in September. We are both very sad about it. Dragon has been around as long as I've known about D&D. I'm not the only one who felt kicked in the stomach over it. I always kinda hoped someday I'd come up with an article for it. S had two articles published there, one of which was anthologized in the Dragon Compendium. When I last checked the EN World boards, the discussion was 5 pages long. Wow, now it's up to 14. Makes me sad. I always thought of it as the professional standard for gaming.

In other news, T slept most of the day. Hard to believe his surgery was a week ago today. It's been a quick week. We walked to the mailbox and back again today. He kept complaining of being hot and then cold, and when we took his temp, it was 100.4. Within a couple of hours it was 101.5. According to the info we were given at the hospital, if he had a temp of 101, we should call the doctor. He got Lambeth, who was on call, on the phone; he said to take Tylenol and that it's perfectly normal. Got me upset, though.

Spent a lot of time today working on the S'garde bridge adventure, which I think I'm entitling The Green Woman of Vaathwood. I write so terribly slow; I only got the first encounter done. In fairness, I am emulating the Slaughtergarde format, so I have to re-order the stat blocks that I'm using from the RPG cards of the D&D minis.

The difference a week makes

Last week at this time I was just getting to the hospital. Thomas went in for a stress test and failed it miserably. The doctor ordered a dye test and promptly bunged him into the hospital. The verdict: some percentage of blockage in all his arteries around the heart. Fifty percent in the main one. S & J really saved me; I really wasn't thinking clearly and they were so helpful. Part of the problem was that we didn't get to eat lunch, and I was having blood sugar issues.

We spent Wednesday afternoon in ICU waiting room, which I have to say is like being at WalMart. While we were there, there was a tornado warning for Shelby County. Fun! Actually the tornado wasn't in our immediate area.

On Thursday morning he had quadruple bypass surgery. The staff at Shelby Baptist Hospital were fantastic. We spent that day in the Cardiovascular ICU waiting room, a little room with a comfy loveseat/recliner and two padded armchairs. J caught up on her knitting and piecing; S beat me three times at Fluxx. Everyone told us that Dr. Ronson was fast and efficient. They weren't kidding. The surgery lasted only three hours. T's sister got there late that night after driving 12 hours or more from Missouri.

Friday, Saturday and Sunday are rather a blur of going from T's bedside to the lobby where S and J kept vigil for me. S is a stalwart guardian. I couldn't have my cell phone on in the lobby, so I had to dash down periodically to check messages. At one point I was keeping up with T's phone as well.

Monday morning we got word that he could go home that day! I was surprised, as he'd had some fever and such along the way. When I got there, though, he had at last had his chest drainage tubes removed. Man, he has some amazing holes in him. >shudder< I dashed home to get the house ready for him (mainly changing and washing sheets–wouldn't you know none were clean) while S stayed with him in case something came up. He wasn't released until 5 p.m. The nurse was very apologetic, but they'd been quite busy that day.

I'm having a hard time being at home. T keeps having to tell me to slow down. He's doing really well, I think. This afternoon we're going to attempt to walk to the end of the driveway and back. That'll be a big milestone.

J had said I needed to blog about T's experience, so here it is.