Because it makes me laugh...

Because it melts my heart...

Because it's the only time we did it...

Because his boys never let him down, even now....


At it again

God, I love getting muddy.

Maybe I've got a screw loose.

Do the things you love the most. There is reward even in the failures.


Wondering When

My friend Kim sent me a text message last week and said that she had a dream about Scott. I told her to send him my way, he hadn't visited me. I was a little cranky that he was off visiting beautiful woman that I have never met. He must have known because he visited me last night. He was standing in a hallway. Tall and skinny, just like he used to be.

I'm wondering when I'll be able to think of him in certain spots without having it be a bad image. I'll stop when I'm upstairs and look at the bed. I try to remember what it was like to have him there. It's been 15months since Scott was upstairs. In a lot of ways, I'm grateful for this. It's given me an opportunity to get used to sleeping alone while he was still here. When I climb into bed now I don't feel that longing. I don't find myself searching for him. I don't talk to him there, expecting him to talk back.
I would however, like to look at the bed and not picture the day his splenic artery burst. I can see him sitting on the side of the bed as he fell, face first, onto the floor. I can picture him laying on the floor, passed out. I can see the paramedics surrounding him.
Why can't I picture something else?

Scott's "room" is officially the office again. All the furniture has been moved. The only thing that remains is a bag of Scott's clothes, his prized fan, some medical supplies in the closet and the pictures of Kate that we put up to welcome him home last March.
When I stand in the room I still look down and see him laying there dead. I don't picture all the playing, the movies, the snuggles. I see him with his head turned away, his eyes open and that pale gray pallor to his skin.

Standing in the kitchen looking at the pantry door, I don't see the painting I did there. I don't see the endless number of times he stood there looking for something to eat. I see his face, the only piece visible of him in the black body bag as the funeral home took his body from the house.

I'm left wondering why. Why in these three places is there still so much hurt? The rest of the house doesn't haunt me. It welcomes me. Offering me memories of better times. Happy moments spent around the kitchen table. The taste of his "Scotty salmon". Christmas mornings, Easter egg hunts, Kate's birthdays... all fill this house.
So why can't I get past these thoughts? Will I ever be able to remember Scott without these moments?
Why can't we just remember the good moments?


Monty Python

I'm trying as much as possible to stay glass half full. I'm really doing it quite successfully. In fact, I'm not finding myself having to force it.

Scott always, ALWAYS, looked on the bright side of life. It was just part of his nature. Over our nine years together he encouraged me to adapt his positive way of life. I love that in his death, my natural response has just been to do what he always wanted me to do.

The week of his death, he still talked about how there were people out there that had it far worse than he did. He was laying there, slowly dying, talking about others and their pain and suffering.
He was so worried that the directions I gave the social worker were wrong that he forced himself to go over the directions I had drawn and add details to help her get to her destination. Then before she could leave, he caused a rukus in his room so I would come back in to check on him. He couldn't reach his phone to call me and he wanted to make sure I gave the social worker my phone number on the directions so she could call if she got lost.
Really Scott, you're more worried about her getting lost than you are making sure you're getting enough rest.
The day he died, my friend Sere was here visiting. Scott was obviously very, very weak and tired. When the visit got to be too much for him he asked Sere to leave the room. He was polite, gentle and sweet, asking her to leave and having me stay. Then after she left, he looked at me with his big eyes, full of tears and apologized for taking my friend away from me and for being so rude in asking her to leave. Silly boy.
It was just his way. I physically took care of everything and he emotionally made sure everyone got what they needed. It's what I miss most.

My mom and I got the boys (Dad, Scott, Justin and Matt) tickets to see Spamalot, the Monty Python musical when it opened in Chicago. Many a quotes came from that play. This song was always something Scott would hum or whistle.

It suited him.


Painting, baking, and rearranging... oh my!

I'm not Dorothy and this is not Kansas.

This is not an alternate universe where I get to have this wild technicolor dream with bizarre little men that sing to me. I'm not going to wake up and really be safely tucked into bed with people fussing around me.
I've got the people fussing (and I love them for it) but I don't get to wake up and have this all be over. This is real life.

I've got about 200 pictures to show you all. I finally picked up that gorgeous new camera of mine and really got back to doing what I do (shoving a camera in everyones face).
Josh came and helped move around the furniture. Scott's room is no longer "Scott's room". It's once again an office. A disorganized one but an office none the less.
The upstairs office has once again returned to a second guest bedroom. All the major lifting is done and in return for his hard work, I stood in the kitchen and cried on his shoulder. Literally. Guess he didn't know what he was getting into when he agreed to be the best man at our wedding.

Moving things had it's benefits and it's setbacks. Kate has been crying out for me at night. She's having nightmares about bad things happening to me and in the middle of the night is unable to process that I don't really have a lizard climbing under my shirt.

We've really been enjoying the last bit of time with Grams before she returns to Texas tomorrow. All three of us girls gathered around the kitchen last night and made Gram's famous chocolate cake. We laughed, we cried, we learned, we loved and I took pictures. It was awesome.

This morning while Grams made me her famous chicken enchiladas (she can't say no to me), I started the touch up painting. Scott's wheelchair (and a wild almost 4year old) reeked havoc on the walls and doors of this house. I got about half of it completed. Not bad for having "help".

While working on this post, I've been interrupted by Kate's cries several times. For the first time ever in her young life, she called out for her daddy. My heart aches for her.


Little Things

It's the little things that knock the wind right out of you. It's the bowl and spoon that was last used to cure your incessant need for ice chips. It's the bag of ice chips at the bottom of the freezer. The straw stuck in your last bottle of water. The shirt you wore when Kara took those pictures. The sheets and pillow that were on your bed.
And then there is your bed. The place you spent most of the last year. The place where we all snuggled, spending time together, telling jokes, sharing stories, playing play-doh. The place you last said I love you. The place where you took your last breath.
I had your bed taken out today. Tomorrow will be the rearranging of furniture to turn your room back into an office. I feel like you're leaving me all over again.
I know I have to do these things. I know I have to get this house back on the market and sold. It's what we talked about. It's what we both wanted.
I just have to remember that you are not there. You are in our daughters laugh. You are the way she will tell the same joke over and over again. You are in our hugs, our smiles, our hearts. I just really wish you were in our world too.


Because I'm lucky

In the two days before Scott's passing, his ability to speak became very difficult. He just didn't have the strength to project his voice any longer. He'd been in this position before so we reverted to the tried and true methods of communicating, a notebook.
I have pages of notes from previous hospital stays. Some of his thoughts are very clear but there are some that I simply can't recall what he was talking about.
The morning he died, Scott and I were trying to find a writing utensil that fit in his hand well. He was so tired and shaky that a normal pen just didn't work. Crayons, sharpies (markers), dry erase crayons, pens... we tried it all. Scott had something really important to share with me and had to get it written down.
I'm glad he did.


He would be so proud

Bringing me a picture of Scott holding a fish Kate asks
"Mommy what kind of fish is this?"
I reply "It's a muskie."
Kate "Muskies, I LOVE muskies."

Randomly out of nowhere while I'm getting dinner ready tonight Kate says,
"Why did the wind have a birthday?"
Me - "Why?"
Kate - "On Friday he had a birthday cake and it blew out the candles."
Her delivery needs a little work but her father would be so proud.

Mark brought his smiling face to my kitchen table tonight. It brought warmth to my heart. The Starbucks he brought with him, brought warmth to my tummy.


Seven days

It's been seven days since you passed. I tried to keep myself busy with work this afternoon, to distract me from feeling the moment. It didn't work. I looked at my watch at exactly 250pm, the last time I remember seeing the clock as your struggled for your last breath.
I closed my eyes and I could once again hear your final words to me "I love my girls". You were so weak, gasping for breath but your words were as clear as they had every been.
I know most people go through moments in their marriage where they doubt how their spouse feels. Where a fight gets out of hand and words are spoken that hurt. I'm so lucky that in the nine years we were togeher I never had one of those moments. Never did a second pass that I doubted your love for me.

I know you continue to rescue me. Today when I pulled into the funeral home to pick up your death certificates and Kate started to cry because she didn't want to go in, your song came on the radio.

Kate stopped crying and we both quietly sat and listened to the song. We climbed out of the car, Kate wrapped her arms around my neck and we both said "I love you".
Her good mood continued as we spent the next two hours at the social security office. She never cried, yelled or got out of hand and I never lost my patience.

We continue to move forward slowly, but it's not without you. We'll never be without you.




We are not a praying family in the typical sense. We never started the tradition with Kate to say prayers before bedtime, Scott and I never really said prayers our selves. In our own ways Scott and I both would quietly mull over the days events in our minds (and sometimes together) as we were winding down for the night. Taking stock of the days events and keeping things in perspective. Reflecting on the happy moments and learning from the challenges.

The day Scott died as I snuggled Kate into bed after her story time, she told me she missed her daddy (she said that a lot today). I suggested that we talk to daddy. Her logical little mind said we couldn't. That heaven was too far away. Of course, I told her that wasn't the case. So beginning that night I cover her up with her blanket, turn off the light and I talk to Scott. I talk to him for her and for myself. I tell him about our day, tell him we miss him and love him. Last night Kate added in things she wanted to say, wanting me to do the talking but participating in the "conversation".
This morning as we walked into school she told me something that melted my heart. She said
"last night I wake up, it was dark and not time for wake ups. I not call for you Mommy. I just talk to Daddy like you do. I fink he listen cause I feel better and go to sleep."

Tonight she joined me and we both talked to Scott. She wanted him to know that she had cake with Brandon, Ethan Scott and Kristen and that she was a good girl and shared her toys. She even added in that she wasn't very good at listening to mommy today and promised to do better tomorrow.
Watching her struggle is the hardest part of this. Having to keep a handle on her attitude, correct her behavior and give her words for her feelings when I want to just sit on the floor and cry for her is the biggest struggle I face everyday. I know this will get easier. I also know that this will get harder too.


Hail, hot dogs and a slap

It rained here today.

That's a bit of an understatement. It poured. The skies unleashed and heaven rained down on earth.

Thunder, lightening, hail, sheets of blinding rain.

Washing away the dirt and grime.
I've talked before about how healing rain can be. A steady stream of raindrop hides tears, it distracts, it cleanses, it revives.

Hail though, it hurts. Stinging as it slaps you in the face. Leaving behind welts that will be sore long after the ice has melted.

It's confusing. Things should be washed away. Leaving behind pure, untouched earth, ready to be worked. Instead, there are harden pieces of ice scattered everywhere. Tripping you, crushing under your feet, icing over your soul, leaving tiny dents over everything.

I'm not so sure on this hail idea. I think I prefer just a regular rain instead.
Good thing hail doesn't happen often.

A rowdy breakfast with most of my extended Iowa family this morning followed up with a quiet day. Lots of rest for Kate and I. A few small tasks accomplished. Lots of talk about Scott and more love.

I've been writing a piece about the memorial service. I want to record it here for Kate. This blog is the journal of our life. Our history right here for her to read anytime she likes. Scott's service is a huge piece of that history. Look for it in the days to come.

Hot Dogs
Most people heard the hot dog story yesterday. For those of you that couldn't be with us (many of whom had hot dogs in their own homes as a sign of support like my friend Kim in Wyoming) here's the story.
Scott and I were instantaneous. We knew each other so well from the word go. Finishing each other sentences on our first date, talking until all hours of the morning like we had been friends forever.
Our second date was a trip to the Cubs game. It was a cool, late September evening and a losing season for the Cubs (imagine that) so we headed down to get tickets at Wrigley Field. On our way to the game we joked about making a detour and heading to O'hare airport and hoping the next flight to Vegas to get married. To this day, I'm positive the only reason we didn't was because we knew some people would be disappointed in us.
So we arrive at the game, get some rocking ass seats and settle in. Scott says "I'll got get us some dogs." I agree and off he goes. I watch the game and think about how lucky I am, pinching myself a little to make sure I'm really awake. When Scott returns he says "I got down there and realized I didn't know how you like your hot dog."
It hadn't dawned on either of us that he wouldn't know how to fix my dog. It already seemed like he knew everything about me. That we had been together for a lifetime.
He adds "so I got one with brown mustard and one with regular mustard."
I freeze. I HATE mustard. My disdain for the yellow, vinegary slime is legendary. I've thrown away perfectly good sub sandwiches because of trace amounts of mustard.
I smile and say "Either one is fine." and grab the one closest to me. I choked down that hot dog, mustard and all.

Through the years this story has been a foundation for Scott and I. We were together in an instant, he would always be doing anything he could to make me happy
and I would take anything he could give and never complain.

Weeks later, my disdain for mustard came to life and we laughed for the longest time. For the nine years that followed there we more jokes about the mustard than any other single thing in our relationship. So yesterday, BigDan and Kathy served us hot dogs, mustard only (yellow and brown), Cracker Jacks, chips, peanuts and sodas. Just like the ball game. It made my heart smile.

Go read BigDan's blog post from this evening about the hot dogs. You'll be glad you did. I laughed, I cried and I rejoiced in how lucky I am to have such amazing people in my life. You all can get me through anything, even moments like this...

The hail got me to use my new camera for the first time in a while. It felt good in my hands and I instinctively knew what to do. Crawling on floors, getting dirty, putting myself between my subject and the light.
In loading the photos to share here I found evidence of the last time I picked up my camera. One single, lone, photo. A picture of Scott taken that morning, a little more than five hours before his death.
He's looking right into the camera. Right at me. Right into my soul, the way he always did.



Today we honored Scott. We gave him a farewell party like no other. Music, laughter, love, family, hot dogs and stories.
It was exactly what he would have wanted. It was exactly what I wanted.
I should have taken photos of it. The room was packed, 100's of people, standing room only. Like a good sold out concert.
I felt Scott beside me all day long.
There is so much to say, so many words of gratitude to offer, and so many stories to share, but tonight I need to rest. I'm exhausted beyond words.

A beautiful day of celebration for a man that touched so many. May we all continue to hold Scott in our hearts and let him guide us in our lives.



Remember that horrible, miserable, cold that Kate had? Well, she's such a kind, sweet, loving child, she shared with her mom. I officially feel miserable. Every person that has talked to me today has probably assumed I've been crying every second of the day.
I can't believe that things are well at hand for tomorrow. I've gotten so much help and support. There is next to nothing to do tomorrow. Showers, maybe a hair cut for Kate, some coffee and that's about it. It's unreal.
My house could sure use some tidying though, so I'll be working on that a bit.

A few people have asked about an "after service" gathering. There is nothing planned officially.
I think it's important for me to say out loud that my main focus in all of this is Kate's well being. Kate is a pretty structured kid. She naps at the same time every day, eats at the same time, goes to bed at the same time. This week has rocked her world. She's struggling to figure everything out right now.
Her usual bedtime is 8pm and with the service ending at 7pm I feel that she may need to just go home and unwind.
She is very much aware of what's happened. We talk about Scott quite a bit and she will randomly tell me she misses him with big tears in her eyes. I certainly don't mind if there are gatherings of friends and family to continue to honor Scott's memory. I'm just not sure that I will be in attendance to any of them. The place I'm needed most right now is with my baby girl, getting her through this and letting her know she's safe. Please, don't anyone feel like I'm disinterested in seeing them or sharing with them. That is certainly not the case. I'm just going to do what I feel is best for Kate at the end of the night.
If she's doing well and the stars align than I will certainly join in any other gatherings that are happening.

While, I wish we were all gathering to celebrate a birthday for Scott, I am glad that so many have traveled (or will travel or are currently traveling) so far to be here to memorialize Scott's life. He touched so many and sharing him with everyone keeps him with me.


St. Patty's Day

You loved St. Patrick's Day. I'm not entirely sure why. You're not Irish, we didn't go out and "live it up", it was just another day to us. But, a few years ago I started making corned beef, cabbage and potatoes. Always making sure there was Irish soda bread and rye bread, because why should you have to pick just one?.? It became our tradition.
On Monday I commented that Thursday was St. Patty's Day and promised to make you corned beef as usual. You rubbed your tummy and said "yum". But we knew. We knew you wouldn't make it. The promise was empty but it made us smile didn't it?
I went out for dinner tonight so I could have corned beef and cabbage in your honor. It was the single hardest meal I've ever eaten. Thank goodness for our daughter and our family. They gave me enough distraction that I didn't just sit at the table and sob. The restaurant didn't have Irish soda bread or rye bread, I'm hoping the grocery store has some tomorrow because I simply must have a piece of each.

It's been two days since I heard your voice. We haven't gone two days without speaking to each other since we met. Except for the times you were on the ventilator. I couldn't hear your voice then but I could hold your hand and I could look into your eyes and I could feel your love so your voice transcended the silence and spoke right to my soul.
I think about every time I got frustrated or annoyed when you would call or text me. Distracting me from whatever it was I was doing. I can't believe I wasted those moments. If I could take them all back I would. I would take it all back and I would suck in every word you ever spoke. I would hide a recorder in my pocket and have millions of tapes with your voice. The soundtrack to our life.
I've called your phone just so I can hear the voicemail message. It always seemed stupid and cliche when I saw it in the movies or heard of others that would do it but at 3am it was the only thing I wanted or needed. Not even sitting watching our daughter sleeping helped. So I went and laid in your bed and called your phone. Closing my eyes I had you for just one moment.
Don't worry I'm not doing these nutty things in front of Kate. She sees Mommy upset, we talk about you a lot, but she's not seeing the moments where I'm broken. I promised you I would be strong and I would raise her the way we always talked about. I haven't forgotten that promise and I've kept it even when during the second time out of the morning, when I wanted nothing more than to cave into her tantrum.
Thank you for holding me as I stood outside her door and listened to her scream. I felt your arms around me. I feel them around me all the time. You're so close and yet so far away.

We miss you more than words can describe. But, we're doing ok. We'll be ok.
I'm going to keep talking to you here. Katie has me convinced that there is internet in heaven. She told me today "but Mommy, you always say we can find it on the computer." Our daughter is just too smart.



Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

I've said that to myself over and over again today. Reminding myself to continue to soak up the moments around me. Taking an extra moment as Mark and I stood outside the funeral home to feel the sun on my back. Loving arms reaching down from heaven. Not hurrying Kate this morning when she sat across the room from me refusing to get dressed only to have her throw herself onto my lap and cry for her daddy.
These moments, even the hard ones, are important. It's important for Kate to have a safe place to feel whatever she's feeling and it's important for me to live in the moment, it's the single most important thing I learned from my life with Scott.

It was such a beautiful day here, I can't help but think of who we have to thank for that. I'm not the only one thinking it either. I loved popping on to Facebook at a stoplight (only while stopped) and seeing that I had friends thinking the same thing.
Kate and I even got a moment when we can home tonight to look at the beautiful moon. I knelt there beside Kate without a jacket and felt nothing but warmth. I told Kate I could see her Daddy's smile in the moon. She's not quite sure about that just yet but we're working on the idea.

My beloved Grams got here today. Picked up from the Amtrack train while I was making arrangements for Scott's services. One of Scott's dear friends Mark was with me. There was laughing, a few stories - some of them really inappropriate (my fault) and only a few tears (also mine). I know what Scott wanted, and I'm going to give him exactly that.

Scott wanted to be remembered in death how he was in life. No fuss, no frills, no drama. Some music, some stories and lots and lots of love.
Services are going to be on Saturday evening from 4-7pm at Querhammer and Flagg funeral home. While their name makes me giggle like a 13 year old boy (yes, I'm that juvenile) all of Scott's family services have been there and they have taken such wonderful care of us. Working with Abby from there was like seeing an old dear friend. While a little sad, it certainly helps getting through things a lot easier.

I want to personally invite everyone reading this to come to the service. We're going to be sitting, playing or listening to some acoustic guitars, having hot dogs (you'll get that story later), and talking about the moments that really matter in life.
There are so many of you that have become "internet friends" to our family. It's important for you to know that with Scott and I if you were an internet friend you were family. Doesn't matter if we've never met or if you knew Scott when he was 3, I want you there and Scott would too.

I've put off my next task long enough. It's time for me to climb into bed and begin sorting through the thousands of pictures and deciding what to include in the service. Other than the photos I pass on my walls, I haven't been able to look at a picture yet.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.



This is the 451st post I've written. From here things look different. The first 450were about making moments. The next however many posts will be about remembering those moments, honoring them, and finding ways to make more.
For the first time in her life, Kate spent most of the night in my bed with me. Her miserable cold kept waking her up and the crying was more than I could bear. We both slept some, her far more than I. I guess my body just hasn't gotten the memo that I don't have to be ready to bolt down the stairs at any moment anymore.
For the first time in over a year, I could turn off my phone. I didn't though. I would wake up and reach for it frantically. Afraid I had missed his call. Afraid he had needed me and I hadn't gotten the message.
I think, I will find myself waking up and reaching for him frantically for the rest of my life.
Thank you all for being the messages on my phone. The slap of reality at 2am was lessened by the love, support and care from all of you.

Today, I begin to put the pieces back together. Kate and I are going to continue our "get back to normal" program. Spending the evening last night, just Kate and I in our home, having cereal for dinner on the couch, watching tv, playing games and talking was just what we both needed. Going on Daddy's now empty bed and jumping was also, just what we needed. I wanted Kate to have a normal night. Not a night of whispers, tears, visitors and grief.
She'll be up soon and we'll get clean, and head out into the world, in search of Starbucks and a Target. It's just what we do.

This afternoon, I'll meet with the funeral home. Scott and I discussed the party he wanted to honor his life, I promise it won't be the usual "thing". It can't be the "usual" thing, Scott wasn't the "usual" guy. He deserves more. He's always deserved more.

I've read each and every message, comment, email etc. that has been sent. They bring me such comfort. I'm working my way through them. Responding as my heart allows. Please know that every response I write, every word I type, is done with thought and consideration. I'm not zooming through them with blanket responses. You all mean to much to me. So bear with me as it takes a little while to get through them all.

And before everyone tells me I don't have to, I know I don't. Hell, I don't have to do much of anything today. But, I want to. I really want to. Reading each one, closing my eyes, letting the words wash over me and finding my voice in my heart, is good for me. I need to do it. I just feels right.

My girl is stirring. Time to put my feet on the floor and put one foot in front of the other.


The Day Before

My husband gave me one final gift. He stayed here one more day so I could have photos to last Kate and I a lifetime.

I watched this slide show on my phone for the first time last night as I laid on the floor next to Scott's bed. Tears rolling off my cheeks. I watched it again with Scott and Kate this morning, Scott smiling from ear to ear. I watched it again on my phone as I laid next to Scott as he took his last breath.
Kate's voice over the baby monitor as she happily played, boycotting her nap.

Scott fought every last breath until the end. His beloved Becky cat resting on his lap.

Katherine and I have talked about what's happened. She asked to see him and we sat in his room talking about her Daddy being free. Katherine said it best to the hospice nurse when she said, "My Daddy can't talk anymore. But it's ok, his soul is in heaven."

A wonderful man that gave everything to his family. Fighting so hard to overcome all the obsticles in his way. His soul is finally resting with his mother, his father and his sister.



I feel like I'm stuck on repeat. I just keep saying how wonderful you all are. How supported we feel. A giant hug wrapped around this house, as all of you carry us through this time. I hate to be a one trick pony but, you guys are amazing.
We simply cannot believe the care, consideration, prayers and love you've shown our little family. It's made these days so much easier to handle.

I realize I owe many people return calls, emails and texts. I'm working on them. Scott's ability to swallow is basically non-existent and with that went his voice. He's just not strong enough. With the new loss of voice his anxiety has increased. He doesn't like me to be very far away and the noise from the computer and my constant click, click, clicking on my phone doesn't help an anxious mind.

For as much of rally as we had yesterday, this day was a trip in the mud. Face first with fresh make-up. Or for you boys reading, a giant kick in the nuts.

Kate is sick. Barking like a dog, running a fever of 102, 10days of antibiotic, whining non-stop, not sleeping, sick. Poor junior miss.
Scott, well... I already told you about the anxiety and the loss of voice. He's struggling with the sadness that it brings and lots more pain. I'm chasing the pain as best as I can with gallon doses of morphine but it just doesn't seem to be enough. It's the worst part of all this. I hate watching him suffer.

We got plenty of visits today to help bring in the sunshine. Becky Jo with her beautiful dog Sedona, Alli, Dan (twice) Adam, and Ryan, my parents are still hanging with us and then we met a new friend Kara.

Kara is a wonderful photographer that was contacted by some friends of mine from a woman only, photography message board. I've only been a part of this private board for a few short months but these woman have gathered around us. Treating us like we're the oldest and dearest of friends, even though I haven't met any of them. Some of the woman got together and contacted Kara about coming to take pictures of our family.
I first heard about the idea around 8pm last night and by 9pm Kara and I had figured out that we only live about 10 minutes away from each other (what a small world. Some things are just meant to be). Kara coordinated with me all day to work around Scott and Kate feeling poorly and finally made it over this afternoon for a little family photo shoot in Scott's room.
I cannot say enough about the wonderful woman that made this possible and the most fantastic new photography friend Kara. I only wish I had her website handy so I could link to her but alas, I do not. That's what happens when you work silently in the dark. I'll be sure to share her info here soon.

Even though this day was not so nice, I'm sitting here remembering the good moments. All the love, the extra snuggles from a sick baby girl, holding my husbands hand in the quiet of the day knowing it's what's helping him sleep and all the smiles and laughs we shared.
Even bad days have great moments hidden inside them. You just have to look remember to look for them.



The best day in over a week.

Notice Becky the cat on Scott's head. She's never very far.

Lots of visitors. Aunt Lynn, Uncle LaVerne, Aunt Mel and her wonderful friend Diane. Uncle Justin and Auntie Blue. My parents, that have opted to spend the night (thank goodness because it's 930pm and I just sent them to CVS).

Lots of laughs, plenty of food (even Scott ate some today), and more love than should be legal.

We're already heading into a tough night though. Scott is struggling and is very unsettled. Poor Junior Miss has an awful cold. Fever, drippy nose, cough and a throat that "feels like a snake". Don't ask me what that means.

In leaving to tend to those that I love, I will leave you with a very bad joke that I made up today. Those that know me, know I'm not a big dumb joke kind of girl. Further more, this joke is a little on the crass side. I figure this is a pg-13 crowd given the content (any my need to drop the f-bomb from time to time) so I think you can handle it.
Scott has a horrible time swallowing. He said "I hate that I have to work up the courage to swallow." My reply "Well, now you know what it's like to be a $25 hooker." Ba dumb bump. I'll be here all week. Tip your waitress.

Already, wishing for morning and the night has only just begun. The continued love, prayers, well wishes and thought of peace for our family wrap us in love and protect us. Thank you.



The sun is finally shinning here this morning. It's a refreshing boost to my mood. Scott spent more time asleep than awake last night which is a blessing for both of us. He's "awake" and sipping water now. He aspirates every sip but I guess that doesn't really matter anymore.
Kate called for me at 2am which was really 3am (stupid daylights savings time I'm so confused). When I got to her room a very awake Kate said "Mommy, I have to tell the truf. I was chewing on my lips." I assured her I wasn't upset at her and offered her some chapstick. She took it and a few extra snuggle moments. She's awake now playing in bed waiting patiently for her clock to turn 7. Somebody has a sucky Mommy that forgot to set her clock last night. Oops.
And me... Well, I just keep singing a few lines from an Elton John song. The song is I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues. The whole song doesn't speak to me but the opening lines sure do.
Don't wish it away
Don't look at it like it's forever

I don't know how long this will last. Truthfully, I've cried and pleaded for it to be over already. But today, with the sun shinning, I'm going to keep taking the good moments from what we've got. It will be over far to soon. As long as Scott is pain free, everything else will be alright.


"Daddy, will you miss me?"

"When you're in heaven?"

"Of course, I am Baby. I'm going to miss you all the time"

"I'm going to miss you too Daddy."

"Want to share my cookie Daddy?"

"No thanks Baby. You eat it."

Lots of visitors today. Jen and S4 came bringing cupcakes and smiles. Scott's Uncle Jim, Aunt Marlene and cousin Jason came with a toy that entertained Kate most of the evening. A long visit and manly bonding with my brother Mathew this morning and a quick drop by from Josh with every man movie in his DVD collection for Scott to borrow.

Everyone left by 4pm and Kate and I spent the night hanging out in Scott's room. We made a dinner picnic on the floor, played and watched Megamind. Scott slept almost the entire time. He would only open his eyes all the way and engage in the world around him when Kate talked to him or I got right next to him and spoke really loudly. But anytime that little girl said "Daddy" his eyes shot open and he spoke as clearly as he could. She didn't flinch. She wasn't scared, upset or seemingly bothered. She just kept right on going. Even getting him to engage in a moment of freeze dance where he hummed a tune and she danced until he stopped.
Kate and I sat on the floor and played. Laughing, goofing off dunking Kate in the pretend fruit salad soup and then sending her through the bathtub for a scrub.
I hope that the sound of her laughter will stay with him on his journey. For a brief moment we all climbed in Scott's bed, held hands and said the things that needed to be said. My heart has never hurt so much or been so full in my entire life.
I'm camped out on Scott's floor. Prepared for another long night and praying for peace.
There were moments today that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy and more moments today that I wish the whole world could feel, if only for a moment.
To everyone that is sending cards, emails, Facebook messages and posts... Thank you for all the love and support. I've been reading them to Scott. They make him peaceful. To those that are sending us their love, support and prayers that we don't even know about... we feel that love as well.


The sun is up

I'm glad the sun is shining. The night is so lonely. There is no escape.

Scott has progressively gotten worse. His breathing is slow, labored and erratic. He's been dreaming a lot. Last night he was talking about Kate getting a new bike. Then he was "eating" corn on the cob in his sleep and trying to text Bonnie to see if she wanted to go to Joe's Crab Shack for a crab leg dinner. Fortunately for everyone, I took away his phone. I don't think he could have actually gotten a call made or a text done but it would have been funny if he did.
His speech is unintelligible and mostly, from what bits and pieces I can put together, he talks nonsense. A short time ago he wanted to turn on the TV so I've turned on some fishing show so he can listen to it in his moments of alertness, however brief they may be.
Kate's waking now. I'm a little nervous about that. It's nice to know that if I feel like being here isn't the best place for her I have so many wonderful people surrounding us that will come and get her.
Now if only Starbucks delivered... or maybe hospice has an IV for that (for me of course).
I hoping for a few more wonderful moments as a family today. Go out and make your wonderful moments today too.


Stream of love

There is a giant stream of love surrounding our house.
It's everywhere.

Becky the cat is a perminant fixture on Scott's bed. Purring and snuggling constantly.

Scott (and I) got a wonderful card from everyone at JRB (the rehab facility at Rush where we've spent many a month). All these wonderful, heartfelt wishes with love and prayers. Scott makes such a huge impact on everyone he meets.
If you've been blessed enough to know him in the real world, you know what I'm talking about. He's the kind of guy that even when fighting for his life he remembers others.
The other night as Scott is laying much like he is right now, masked with oxygen going full blast, struggling for every breath, he keeps motioning on his chest and saying something through the mask. After about 3 minutes of struggling to understand him, thinking he's telling me something is wrong, I finally figure out he's asking me the sign for thank you. Here he is, unable to breathe, exhausted, scared and feeling like shit and he's concerned with telling me thank you. I showed him the sign and told him to stop being a pain in the ass.

Time to cut this a little short. Scott's beginning to really struggle. Time to put a call into hospice to get the proper dose of Lorazapam.

The sun will rise tomorrow and blue skies will come with it.


My Saving Grace

My child is my saving grace. She seems to know just what her parents need. She senses that things are changing. I can tell she's a little worried. When we're away from Scott she asks about him more than usual.
And she's been obsessed with our wedding album.

We've looked at it every night since Sunday. I remember it was Sunday because Scott was sitting on the couch in the great room. It was the last time he was there.

She asks who everyone is and wants to hear the story of our wedding.

She asks where she was during the wedding. We tread dangerously close to the bird and bees conversation.

My favorite part is when she says "and you lived happily ever after."

I assure her that we have. A little different than the Disney fairy tale but a fairy tale none the less.
I love this stroll down memory lane. Scott got to join in the journey on Sunday and Monday. He hasn't been able to since but we'll try again tonight if Kate wants.
She comments on how daddy didn't have an "ouchie leg" then and how tall he is. I hope she can remember him that way. Stronger, healthier, more "Scott".

With morning brought slightly better breathing for Scott. He even managed to eat something today. It wasn't much but the day isn't over yet. I pulled out all the stops and made an apple pie to try to entice him.

Bonnie and Nancy stopped over for a short visit. Seeing them brought many smiles to our home but has thoroughly worn Scott out. A few members of his man posse are due to come over tonight and I'm already worried.
But let's face it, there is no time left. Hell, last night I didn't think I would have today. So this isn't the time to stop. Embrace every moment. Breathe it in.

The continue love, support, prayers carry me through. I'll have a moment of worry or doubt and I'll get a message and things get better. Thank you all for rescuing me.


Will I

You fell asleep at 8 tonight. Barely stirring to give our girl a hug before she went to bed. I checked in on you at 9, taking your oxygen level, checking your temperature, and trying to rouse you so I could make sure you didn't need anything. You just slept right through it. I checked on you several times, peeking through the door and seeing you sleep as peacefully as I have for days.
Your breathing seems better. Lungs sound clearer. For a moment when I went to bed I thought maybe this whole thing had passed. Maybe your pneumonia had gotten better. We tried those new meds, maybe that helped. Maybe I'll wake in the morning, having had all three of us gotten great sleep and realize that now is not your time. I fall into a restless sleep thinking of it. Making plans for the weekend, vowing to not keep letting things get put off.
Somehow I don't feel peaceful. Like my thoughts can't quite take hold in my head, regardless of how much I wish they would.
At 230 you call me. I'm going to hate the song Midnight Rider, it's what plays every time you call. I grab my robe and Kate's monitor running down the stairs. I've become quite the acrobat. Jumping over a naked doll, dodging last nights ballerina fashion show clothes tossed on the steps and narrowly missing a lone boot at the bottom of the steps. All things I should have picked up on my way up those stairs to bed, I secretly think I leave them there because I like the challenge. It wakes me up and sharpens my brain, a mini-obstacle course to prepare me for anything I have to do.
I'm surprised you're not gasping for breath like the night before. You're still struggling but it's not like yesterday. The thought that maybe this is passing, creeps into my mind again, taking a little stronger hold. I joke with you about being a sleeping princess. You just look at me through the darkness, the small stream of light pouring in from the kitchen, you tell me something you've never said before. You confess to being closer to death than ever before. Those quick glimpses of things getting better rush out the door, I feel a sting on my cheeks like I've just stepped out into a blizzard.
I tell you it's ok. Telling you that you can rally, that you've come back from the brink before. You tell me what I want to hear but somehow I know you don't believe it. I switch into nurse mode, wife mode is just too hard. I suction you, check your vitals, assure you things are better, get you meds, make you more comfortable.
You tell me to pull up the chair. I can feel wife mode closing in around me. I want to fight against it but know it's the part of me you need most now, so I concede.
We sit in the dark and talk.
Well, I talk. I ramble about the days plans, my thoughts about what happens next, asking you for your thoughts on things. You chime in with your two cents in the places it matters most. It's just the way things are between us. I'm the big strokes, the sweeping thoughts, the muscle. You, you're the quiet calm, the organizer of details, lending your thoughts and considerations when it matters the most.
We talk about Kate, rejoicing in how wonderful she is. I can't see your face real well but I know it lights up, I can feel it. The world can feel it.
You say that you trust me, that you know I'll do a great job of raising her the rest of the way. I tell you how much of you I see in Kate. That quiet, peaceful, funny contentment. The way she will listen to Liberty Valance over and over again, never tiring. She's a dedicated, committed, loving little girl because she's a piece of you.
I'm having a hard time holding on, I feel my brink just at the edge of my soul. You must sense it too so you offer me an escape. Asking me to help you with some sleeping medicine and telling me to go upstairs and get some rest. When I resist telling you I'll stay, you push a little harder letting me know you won't relent.
One last round of checks and I leave you to hopefully sleep.

Back in my bed, what used to be our bed, I'm sitting wondering "Will I?".

I hesitate to share this. Thinking I'll just archive this and never post it like I have with so many other of my ramblings. Knowing I want to share this moment in time with Kate sometime in the future. Knowing I want to be able to go back and remember this moment. But, sharing it with the world wide web, is that the right thing to do? I can feel you telling me to share. Telling me it's what we do. All that time spent in a teaching hospital so others could learn from the hardships. Never editing the important things, always telling people the things they may not want to hear, it's just what we do. So I listen, and I share because I think it's what you want. I'm not the only person walking this path right now. There are others just off to my sides, others I may not see or know, but they're there and they deserve to know they're not alone. Just as I am not alone.

The sun will be up soon and everything will be alright.


Tired, the understatement of the year

An exhausting, mostly productive, gut wrenching, soul filling, educational day.

It was a really rough night last night. No matter what I tried I just couldn't get Scott's breathing better. I exhausted all my options, used every tool in my toolbox and finally just had to sit and wait it out.
The sun finally came up and with it came slightly easier breaths for Scott.

A very busy day filled with lots of wonderful, supportive hospice staff. Those of you that have read this blog for a long time know that I sometimes... um... clash... with doctors and nurses. I have a unique personality type and I require people to be on their toes, detail oriented, quick on the draw and at the top of their game. I'm feeling mostly comfortable by the people we've met already. I do know beyond a doubt they are doing their best to make Scott comfortable.

Scott is exhausted and sleeping right now. He is on oxygen full time now. If we can get some of the junk out of his lungs we can discontinue that. We'll just have to see how things progress.
Kate played at Grammy's house today so I could focus on getting all the hospice paperwork and such organized.
I have some good news to share with you all for a change.
These photos were taken tonight with the newest Witt family member.

I finally caved in to Scott's wishes and ordered the Nikon d300s and Nikon 24-70 f/2.6.

These two photos were taken at ISO 3600 at 7pm tonight without flash. Further more I was sitting in the same spot when I took them. That's is how much range my new lens has.
I'm completely smitten.
With all the drama of the day I only took 6 pictures and really haven't even begun to figure out what this gear is capable of. These photos are SOOC (straight out of camera) and have no retouching at all.
There are so many people that made the purchase of this camera possible. Anonymous donations, terrific friends that orchestrated the anonymous donors, my family, my Grams and most importantly my husband. He was the driving force behind it all. Now I have to do him proud and get this camera rocking.

Hoping for a quiet night. Prepared in case it isn't.

The love, support, care and compassion continues to overwhelm and amaze both Scott and I. I cannot express our gratitude. But, I will search for the words after I've had a few hours sleep.



Laying on this floor its quietly loud.
The rain is dancing on the window outside. Threatening to lull me into a false sense of hope. Washing away the moments as they tick by.
The babies monitor a comforting blanket. The same bits of static that I've heard from my girls room for the past 3 years and 9 months. An occasional sigh of snuggled contentment escapes her offering me its love. Reassuring me that everything will be ok. The sun will rise in a few short hours and the loud quiet surrounding me now will be replaced by her laughter, tears and shrieks of joys.
The serenade of machines is almost deafening. The fan, the oxygen condenser all playing a perfect symphony.
There is even comfort in the struggled, unbalanced, restless breaths escaping from my husband. Reminds me of moments over a year ago when I would wake up to his snoring. Rejoicing some in the fact that snoring and now labored breaths, means he's still here. My eyes opening when there is a stop to the noise.
The incessant beeping from the machine that won't allow me to escape my reality has been unplugged. Turned off. I don't want to know. I can't change the course of time. It will march right ever me even with those flashing red numbers screaming at me to stop it. I cannot stop this, of this I am sure.
I don't feel alone. I know the sun is just off that horizon to the east. Until then I lay in my loud silence, staying present in the moment, hoping for peace.


Hola - gotta brush up on my spanish

First, just to clear up any confusion to yesterdays post, Scott is home. Our plan is for him to stay home until the end.

Our first meeting with Hospice today went beautifully. We welcomed Carrie into our home and she immediately felt like family. She just gets it. There was no moment where I wanted to smack her, tell her to leave or tell her to shut up. I wanted her to have a glass of wine and spend the night.
I'm more than a little frustrated that we didn't call in hospice sooner. They are wonderful. Carrie (she'll be our coordinator) came in around 1:30pm. Left at 345pm. By 4pm, my phone was ringing and with the delivery company arranging to have the oxygen for Scott delivered tonight. By 415pm, Carrie called me back to let me know that a medicine delivery would also be happening tonight. By 5pm I had heard from the meds delivery place.
By 9pm tonight the oxygen had been delivered, the meds had been delivered and we'd made a few more new friends.

Our oxygen delivery person, Adam, also became an instant friend. A young guy, totally nice, very helpful and when we sat around and talked inappropriately he appropriately joined right in.
For the past year, I have been potitioning our insurance company to get Scott a specialized air mattress to help his wounds. They have denied, denied and denied. In 2 hours Carrie and the hospice team made it happen. Adam, had that air bed on his truck ready to deliver tonight.
You all cannot imagine the sigh of relief.
We didn't have Scott's bed set up tonight though. We're holding off until Thursday, we were busy having dinner with old friends, Mark, Jay'me and Josh. They came over for a low key dinner spent sitting on chairs in Scott's room. Nobody cared that we weren't sitting at a dinner table.

Nobody noticed when I used paper towels as napkins and everyone just helped themselves to a drink, and a plate.

True family. A great big giant squishy hug, when you need it the most.

Scott celebrated Fat Tuesday with paczki for breakfast and some beads (courtesy of Kathy and BigDan - yes he had to flash for them).

With all the love and support we've received from all of you, we're feeling strong and positive. We're letting your love carry us right now. Lifting us up when we need it the most.
We welcome you all to our home. While, I have fantasy like dreams of calling everyone personally and extending an invitation, that just isn't going to happen. Send an email, text, call, whatever and we'll coordinate something. Just please don't come by if you're feeling ill. We don't need any cold, flu germs floating in this house. I'm a miserable bitch when I get sick. (heehee)

To end the night, I will make sense of my blog title. The med delivery package that came tonight challenged my high school spanish. I know this cell phone picture is crappy but take a close look.

I see nowhere in english that it says Keep Refrigerated but I'm pretty sure that is what it says in spanish at the very bottom.
Good thing I remember that Carrie said "just put the box in your fridge and we'll go over things tomorrow". Those 4 years of spanish we're quite helpful too.

Taking in a deep breath, putting down my walls, and allowing this moment in time to wash over me. I need to feel it. I need to live it. I need to be present.
I encourage you all to do the same thing in your life.



Sometimes in life we have hard decisions to make. Decisions that we don't ever want to make. Decisions we don't think we'll ever have to make. Decisions that we swore we would never make.
Today was one of those big decision days. Scott's breathing and swallowing capabilities have been progressively getting worse the last couple weeks. As you all know we've been struggling to keep up with his medical needs.
In talking with Scott's doctor over the phone today we were faced with the choice of either having Scott admitted to the hospital, bringing in home health or bringing in hospice. The doctor thought the quickest path toward getting our objectives met would be to bring in hospice. Scott and I discussed the pros and cons of each option on the table and agreed with the doctor.
Tomorrow afternoon we will have Scott's evaluation and official admittance into Hospice. Northern Illinois Hospice is the foundation we chose to help us with Scott's grandma's passing and Scott's fathers passing in 2009.
Our hope is that we'll get Scott the oxygen and pain meds he needs to be more comfortable and enjoy more of life. A hospital admittance and home health care both have the mental mind set of "healing" Scott physically. We know that healing Scott physically is impossible. We just want his soul cared for, physically comfortable and home with us. We're confident that NIH will support us in that.

This does not mean that Scott has given up. Scott is a fighter. His will to live is legendary. I know he is not quitting on our family and we are not giving up on him. We've got to make him comfortable so he can spend as much time with Kate as possible.

This is not an end, it's just a transition. There is no crystal ball, all we can do is live for today.
And today we need more of this.

Kate couldn't wait to snuggle with her dad after nap today.

*forgive the horrible cell phone picture*

Thank you all for the support you continue to show my family. You all do so much to lift us up and keep us positive.
I have a date with a certain little girl and some pink Play-doh. Hoping Scott has rested enough to join us.


A Quiet Sunday

Boy was Saturday night a rough one for the Witt's. Poor K with her 5.2million teeth, Scott with his... well, Scott just being Scott. Then there is the me, running between them feeling like I'm not able to help them enough.
Tylenol, water, leg adjustments, cath, suction, leg cramping. Loads of fun.
But, the sun came up and the horrible night ended, as they all do.

Bring in a fresh new day.
Bubble baths to wash away the restless night.

The more bubbles the better.

Just like life, you've got to fill it up. All the way to the top.

Kate and I spent the morning getting a few things done in the world outside of our home. We even managed to get a breakfast snack with a friend. A nice change of pace for us.
Us leaving the house gave Scott a calm, quiet environment to sleep in. Too bad he didn't sleep. Scott is having a very hard time swallowing. His lungs are very full of junk and neither of us would be surprised if he had pneumonia.
He did manage a little nap after a lunch of yogurt, applesauce and pudding (all foods that are easiest to swallow). Just enough sleep to be able to enjoy a little time with BigDan and Kathy. And enjoy it we did.
Such wonderful friends. Taking the time to drive all the way out here. Though I secretly think they wanted to steal our medical equipment. I know BigDan tried to pocket my stethoscope for sure. You didn't think I saw that did you Dan? I see everything. Bwahahahaha...

Time to get everyone settled in for an early bedtime. Hoping for only sweet dreams for everyone.


Say What? a stream of conciousness

My precious baby girl, just three years and nine months old, is getting all four of her six year molars right now. We've already been warned that her mouth is too small for all her teeth and she gets the brilliant idea to add to things early... someone smack me please.
The small mouth thing is Scott's doing. We all know I have a big mouth.

Scott got out of bed for the first time since last Sunday. He was only up for 3 hours and spent some of that time asleep on the couch but he was up. He even participated in some Trivial Pursuit action with my parents. For those non-trivia geeks out there like me, the newest edition of Trivial Pursuit is awesome. The questions are much more realistic. I actually felt smart while playing, it was great.

Scott is so exhausted from his trip to the living room that I hope he sleeps well overnight. He's got to get ready for BigDan and Kathy's visit tomorrow. Kate has been jabbering non-stop about their visit going on endlessly about their dogs and how she wants to keep one of them here with us. Um, that's a negative captain.

I haven't had to actually make dinner this week. But, I've fed us all hot home cooked meals all week. How awesome is that? We're so lucky to have so many wonderful people caring for us. Scott and Kristin, Mike and Donna, BigDan and Kathy, there are not enough thank yous in the world. I would be very fat and we would be very broke if not for you guys.
Scott is still not able to eat much. He enjoys all the food tremendously though.

I've got several friends that are traveling right now and in the coming days. All of them heading to warm climates. Safe travels girls. I'm jealous as hell. Send some sunny pictures my way.

Hoping everyone is enjoying their weekends. May Sunday be full of rest for all of us.



It's a little slumpy around the Witt house. Scott continues to feel poorly. Using all his energy to play a little with Kate each day. Fevers, fatigue and general crappyness plague him.

I hate it. He's barely eating, struggles to swallow, and no matter what time of day it is he slurs his words like he used to when he was exhausted.

I know this is part of it. It's just the way it is. We don't dwell on it. We don't even really spend much time talking about it. We ignore the "white elephant" in the center of the room and carry on like normal.
It works for us.

I feel like there are no options. Correction, I know there are no options. There is nothing that can be done to stop this. Hell, I can't even get things to slow down. Life is going on, doing what it's going to do. Stomping all over everything in it's path. Not a damn thing to be done.

But again, we move on. We plow through. Making jokes, laughing at Kate, cheering Kate on in her latest princess costume as she performs her dance. We may be missing out on certain parts of life but we certainly aren't missing out on the goodness in life.


Deer friends {roar}

Can someone please tell me why I was up at 4am this morning? Anyone? Anyone?
Nope, you can't explain it either huh?
I know I'm not the only that does that so please join me in a heartfelt "what the hell world". There now don't we all feel better.
Nope, still tired.

Tiredness aside, life keeps on keeping on.
After dropping Kate of at school this morning I had a run in with a family. They are such deer friends.

A charming little family of 10 just out for a morning stroll.

Seeing them running at this time of day makes me think that spring must be on it's way. The blue skies seem very spring like but the biting wind, mmmm not so much.

After the deer friends, we had a scary run in with a lion.

Believe it or not, this lion can really roar. It's a little scary.

I'm loving this picture. This is the best Scott has looked in weeks. I managed to get a photo in the few fleeting moments of feeling good.

And to round out our Wednesday a little Kate story for you all.

Driving to school...
Kate -"Mommy, how big am I now?"
Me - "What do you mean?"
Kate - "Um, yesterday I was three. Now how big I am now?"
Me - "Well, Kate you're still three. You'll be three until your next birthday and then you'll be four."
Kate - "Aww. But Mom, I work so hard last night while I sleeping. I work really, really hard to get bigger so I can be five and go to kindergarten. Why I not get to be five now? I sweep (sleep) really long and eat an apple and my green paragus (asparagus)."

If only life were that simple.

Goodnight Dear (and deer) Friends.


So serious

I stopped by the office today. Kate settled herself in front of the computer and got right to "work". Take note of the serious look on her face. She's just staring at a blank computer screen but to her, she's running the world.
With Kate in charge gas prices would drop so she can go anywhere she wants, lemon loaf would be free, pink would be the national color and Liberty Valance would be the national anthem.

Thanks to Nicole and Brandon for having us over for a play date. We sure had a good time.
Thanks to S12, Kristin, Brandon and Ethan for providing tonights dinner. I love all this homemade food that I don't actually have to make.
And Josh, sorry Kate and I missed your visit tonight. Scott was really glad to see you and couldn't stop talking about your 10pound rack. It brightened his spirits.