Cataract Surgery

Well, ol dad has not been able to see very well for the past few years and he decided he wanted to have Cataract surgery. Actually it was not so much his decision as it was the Veterans Administration. He went in to get new glasses and they said he couldn't have new ones until he had the surgery.

He wasn't happy.

Seems my grandmother, his mom, had cataract surgery 40 years ago and it didn't go well. He was scared to have it done. We tried to reassure him that great strides have been made in the past 40 years but he would not be deterred. The doctor also tried to reassure him but to no avail. He was positive he was destined to be blind and forced to sell pencils in front of the Walmart.
Every day closer to the surgery I heard the same thing..

"I sure wish this surgery was over with"

By the time the surgery was slated to occur, I was wishing the same thing.

Ever had to put drops into a childs ears or eyes? Well, 84 year old men, aren't much different. I've now come to refer to my dad as "Mr Blinky".
You have to start with the drops three days before the surgery. Mr Blinky did not like the drops. He did not like them at all. He would shut his eyes repeatedly. He would turn his head towards the pillow and shout "NO!" He would say "I have to go to the bathroom first" and when he came back, His eye would be rested from all the exercise and ready to start blinking all over again.
I was getting ready to drag him outside and hook his eyelid up to the bumper of my truck and pull it open with a chain.

The surgery day came upon us and off we went to the hospital. We had to be there two hours early in order to do paperwork. The paperwork only took 15 minutes. He had an hour and forty five minutes to worry himself to death so he wouldn't have to go through with it. He did his best to make that happen but darn his luck.. he didn't have enough time to make that massive heart attack happen before they called him in.

They told me the surgery would only take 45 minutes. The time came and went. I was beginning to get worried. If something went wrong I would never hear the end of it. They finally called my name and I went back to see him. he was sitting up in a chair with a huge patch over his eye. His first and only words to me were "I want Red Beans, Fried Potatoes and Cornbread for lunch". I figured he was going to be ok.. except that it takes several hours to make pinto beans.. he wasn't going to get them.

The eye drop ritual continues in the days after.. in fact we are still fighting that battle. He has calmed down little bit since he has seen that the drops weren't going to burn his cornea off and LOW AND BEHOLD!! HE CAN SEE!...but he still wears the title of "Mr Blinky" proudly. Maybe its just me but his eyelid seems to be more muscular. It does it's best to bat those drops right outta the way.

We get to start on the other eye next month.. I already have the chain hooked to the truck bumper.

You've Been Talking in Your Sleep..

Since I got the dog fixed, I haven't been getting a lot of sleep the past few days so I took some time to steal a nap today. It was reeeeaaaaaallly nice.. for a bit. I started to dream.. it was creeping into nightmare category when my dog jumped up on the bed and licked me in the mouth to wake me up.

I would not recommend letting your dog lick you in the mouth. It's gross..no matter how lonely you may be. I think it is also illegal in several states including Hawaii and Puerto Rico... oh wait.. that's for entering contest. Nevermind.

Anywhooo.. I dreamed that a bunch of bank employees had come into my home. They were there to escort my mother down to the bank to sign some legal papers. Now my mom has been dead for 15 years so I have no idea why she'd be coming back to do much of anything unless it was to yell at me to clean my bedroom.
So I'm standing there in my bedroom (Yes mom, I WAS embarrassed they saw the mess, you win) and the window was missing leaving a large hole in the wall. Two slovenly bank employees were standing right by the windowless window, smoking cigarettes. I have no idea what significance slovenly bank people have in my life or why I'd be dreaming of them but most of them I've met seem to bathe on a regular basis and they have the decency to stay out of my dreams.

So they wanted my mom to hurry up. I went to get her and I found her dressed in what I can only describe as a Leprechaun outfit.. a sequined leprechaun outfit. Now while I do not personally know any leprechauns, I do have some friends who are rather short in stature albeit none of them are hiding vast pots of gold or shouting out "They're magically delicious!! in an Irish brogue.

I informed my mom that she would have to change clothes and left. She came out of her bedroom in a gold lame evening gown. While bank employees do indeed, dress well, I felt she was still a bit overdressed for the occasion.

I don't know what happened next because that's when my dog jumped up on the bed and did that awful thing she did. I'm still gagging as I write this.

My Dog Hates Me Now

As in my last post I wrote that I was taking my Cattle Dog "Baby" to be spade. Well the big day came yesterday. One requirement was to have her rabies certificate to prove she'd had her shots but I could not find it. I was supposed to go back to the clinic and get a copy...which I forgot to do. She was to be at the clinic at 8:00am and at 2:00am I was furiously throwing the contents of my desk drawers onto the floor. Not that I'm messy and unorganized or anything but after sending in an application video of my house, the TV show "Hoarders" sent me a rejection letter that only had the words "Oh God NO!" written on it.
At any rate, I found the original certificate stuck to the side of my desk drawer with some old chewing gum.

The drive over was supposed to take 20 minutes according to Mapquest which I should have questioned after seeing "Last Updated June 1995" at the bottom of the screen.
We eventually got to the spay and neuter clinic where Baby flew out of the truck after spotting a potential new boyfriend in a handsome Beagle. (I hated to tell her that her timing was WAY off on this one.)

I reluctantly left her and continued home to wait until I could pick her up. When I went back, she was happy to see me. She was also happy to see the wind and various other objects that were apparently dancing merrily around in her head. She drunkenly walked with me to the truck, stumbling like a frat girl on her way to an eventual early morning "Walk Of Shame."

She had to wear a plastic lampshade on her head to keep her from licking her stitches. I understood the reasons since my elderly dad once had surgery and I had a heck of a time trying to stop him from doing the same thing.

My outside cat normally tries his best to ignore Baby who usually tries to get him to play when he comes into the house but this time he spotted the lampshade on her head, saw how lethargic she was and stopped dead in his tracks. He stared at her as if to say "What the crap is that"?

Since she has awakened a bit more as the day has progressed shes made the best of her situation and used the cone to scrape up the snow from the ground and throw it up in the air to catch it in her mouth... I took it as a hint to fill up her water bowl.

She's doing better now and is alternately pawing at the cone then pawing my hand to take it off.

It's going to be a long week.

No Grandpuppys For Me, Thank You..

I'm taking my Cattle Dog, Baby, to get her sterilized in a couple days. I have mixed feelings about this. While I definitely do not want any smaller versions of her obliterating rolls of toilet paper on the living room carpet the way she does, it makes me wonder if I am doing her a disservice by taking away the chance to be a mother.

Is she going to get into her 30's (in doggie years) and start to feel the tick of her biological clock? Will she walk the isles at Petsmart and start to shed tears when she sees a newborn with its mother? Will she miss the memories of having to make pizza rolls for her adult son that lives in her basement, typing in caps on heated Star Wars forums and who forgets her birthday?

Somehow, I doubt it.


The most difficult thing about it is having to wear one of those plastic lampshades on her head for a week. She is going to go nuts. Having worn a plastic lampshade on my head during a wild party years ago and not getting any laughs.. I can feel her pain. I will have a few laughs at her expense, especially after I distribute several nuggets of her dry dog food on the floor and exclaim "LOOK! SHES A VACUUM CLEANER!" to whoever has the misfortune of visiting.


Poor thing.. She has no idea what she is in for...

What I Want For My Funeral.

Dear Family and Friends:

Since I have been surrounded by the passing away and illnesses of close friends the past few months I have been thinking about what I want if my time to cross the pearly gates comes anytime soon.

First of all, I must insist on NO OPEN CASKET! I don't want to be displayed like a Christmas window at Macys for everyone to come by and gawk at. They prop your head up at a 90 degree angle with a lacy pillow that forces your double chin to become much more pronounced, making people wonder if your bloodline had been previously infiltrated by an AKC registered bloodhound.

I don't care what you do with my body. You can wait till midnight and throw my happy hiney over the cemetery gates if you want. You may put me in the back of the truck, take me to a field and declare an all you can eat to the animal kingdom. Donate me to science and see if they can find a cure for bacon addiction. I really don't care.

What I DO Want:

I want mostly music for my memorial service. I don't want a traditional funeral. Open the church up for several hours on that day and play the songs that touched my heart. Let people come and go as they please all day long. They can come in, sit down, listen, then leave when they have had enough or they need to go to the bathroom.

Start with songs I loved as a child. Jesus Loves Me is perhaps the first one I ever learned. Then play "Silent Night" and "Away in A Manger" because I vividly remember learning those in Kindergarten.

I would like the following songs included: You may have to Google the titles.

"There's Always Tomorrow" from Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer (The one Clarice sings to Rudolph)

"Let The Sun Shine In" The one Pebbles and BamBam sang on The Flintstones.

"The Hukilau Song" I remember when I was in the nursery at an Elementary school program. I wasn't in school yet but my older brother was and some of the kids did this song. I have loved it ever since.

The following songs from my teen and adult years need to be included.

Copacobana by Barry Manilow. Yes that's right, I said it.. Copacobana. I am a Fanilow and I don't care who knows it. I would prefer a motorized mirror ball be hung somewhere in the church when these start to play and a spotlight shined on it. What can I say.. disco is still alive and will rule forevermore in my heart. If people want to come in and dance.. let them flail their arms to their hearts content. I wouldn't want it any other way.

The following songs need to be added:

Brick House by The Commodores
Shake Your Booty by KC and the Sunshine Band
Shake Your Groove Thing By Peaches and Herb
Flashlight by Parliament


Now, lets get a bit serious:
I want some songs that made my spirit soar. Songs that God used to touch me to the center of my soul. Oh.. please turn off the mirror ball when these start..

I've Just Seen Jesus by Sandi Patty and Larnelle Harris
Friends by Michael W Smith
We Shall Behold Him by Sandi Patty
Bethlehem Morning by Sandi Patty (Hmmm.. seeing a pattern here?)
Oh Holy Night
What Child Is This
Bound For Jubilee
Dream On by Larnelle Harris


I want it to end with this one:
Somewhere Over The Rainbow by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole

Well.. that's it.. a little humor.. but I'm serious about this. Let the music tell my story. It will do it better than anyone else could.

See you on the other side Joe.

This is about my childhood friend, Joe Moos. He passed away on Sunday, September 26th 2010.
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Well Joe, you certainly messed up our plans to establish a retirement home for crotchety old Carter-Riverside guys. We won't be able to sit out on the porch, wave our canes in the air and yell at the kids to get off our lawn. I was looking forward to that. You lived a long life in your 46 years, much longer than others your same age.



I don't know why but I clearly remember when I first met you. You were about 4 years old when I rode my bicycle passed your house on my way to Tootsie Hartsells house to play with Rena and Glenda. You chased me down the sidewalk and yelled at me to get away from your house. I guess you thought I was a menacing, 6 year old threat.



We became friends over the years, You, Me, Gary Foster and Michael Trevino. Our summer days were spent riding our bikes through the creek, skateboarding all over the neighborhood, playing hide and go seek in the cemetery and throwing water balloons at cars from all the hiding places in that same cemetery. All of you are gone now, first Michael, then Gary, now you. You all left way too early.. and took a part of my childhood with you.



We watched you as diabetes took the youth away from your body.. but not your soul. The failed kidney transplants, the stints in your arteries, the leg amputation, the fire that burned you all over your upper body, the more than 30 surgeries you endured.. Yet, you never gave up. You never cried "Uncle" or let it stop you from doing what you wanted to do. Lesser men would have given up. Lesser men would have let the darkness take over, but you didn't. You didn't throw in the towel, you didn't roll over. You saw your limitations and said "Ahhh Screw-em". You worked hard until the moment you took your final breath on earth and your first one while being embraced in the loving arms of God.



You were the quintessential crotchety but lovable old fart. We were even laughing about it as we said goodbye to you in the hospital. Your rants and raves when somebody didn't do to suit you. When they didn't do as promised. When they seemed to have forgotten you and didn't call. I can emphatically say now "It's their loss".



It's not going to be the same without you. No more phone calls while you waited for your dialysis to be done. No more conversations about barbecue pits, catching feral cats or what items the grocery stores had on sale that week. I'll miss the calls about which neighbors were just picked up by the cops or needed code enforcement called on them. I'll have to stay in better contact with other neighbors to see how they are because you did that for me. You were always up to date with those who had moved on years before and those that were still around.



You refused when I offered you one of my kidneys. You told me "I've had two failed transplants, I don't want to chance it again. I don't want to take a good kidney from somebody that needs it. " Joe, That spoke volumes to me. I still wished you would have taken it but I understood.



So, goodbye Joe. I'm glad you are out of pain. You don't have to worry about your blood sugar any longer or be prisoner in your own body. You are free. It was good knowing you.

Tree Cat

After taking some of the feral cats to the Humane Society I found that news travels fast in the cat world and that the word was out that there were vacancies at my house. A new cat decided to move in. Apparently cats have their own social networking that rivals Facebook and MySpace.. and they interact solely by peeing on things. It seems so much more simple and cost effective than buying a computer and subscribing to internet services but for now I think I'll stick to the later of the two although I will certainly keep my options open just in case my financial situation should take a turn for the worse.

The new cat that moved in seems to live in a tree in my front yard. I do not think it's his particular choice of living arrangement but one that has been thrust upon him by the other cats that live under the house. For some reason the other cats derive a particular sense of glee from chasing him up the tree then lay in wait for some misstep that will bring him back down for them to murder or worse, sell him Amway. He is one of the ugliest cats I've ever seen and that could be good reason why they show disdain. I never knew cats were so shallow.

I have named this cat "Froggy Knotts". His meow sounds more like a frog's croak, especially when he is scared and wants me to rescue him, which is quite often. He also shakes like a leaf when he sees another cat and reminds me of all the characters that Don Knotts ever portrayed. Of course it could simply be that he has been approached by way too many Amway selling felines.

Froggy is very loving and affectionate. He will sit beside me on the couch and watch TV with me. He seems much more attentive to movies with Julia Roberts but when we watched "My Best Friends Wedding" he hopped down, went to the fridge and popped open a beer. I wouldn't have minded so much but it was my last one.

Froggy normally just stays in the tree, waiting for me to come outside where he can yell at me that the other cats won't let him come down out of the tree. I just tell him to suck it up because it's the same tree that I had to climb to get away from my older brothers when I was young. If I can do it.. so can he.

I've yet to discover how cats can communicate with one another by spraying urine all around the place. It obviously works just fine.

I will stick to my email and Facebook pages for now but if your front porch starts to obtain a less than fresh odor to it.. it may mean that I came to visit while you were not at home.. and I left a message.