As nearly everyone on my f-list knows, my grandfather is suffering from Fronto-Temporal Dementia, and is currently in Stage Four of that disease. My mother is my grandfather's caretaker, and during the course of his illness has become good friends with a woman who runs Senior Care of Brevard -- it's not a nursing home, but rather a facility that accepts dementia and Alzheimer's patients, providing a safe place for them to be during the day, if their regular caretaker needs to work, or simply cannot be home with them on that particular day.  (We don't really like to call it a "daycare" facility, but that is essentially the service it provides.)  Senior Care of Brevard is unique in this area because it is the only facility that will accept Stage Four patients, which is also what makes it vital.

Unfortunately, due to Medicare cuts (some very hefty ones at the state level), SCoB is finding itself in a precarious position.  Since Medicare isn't covering this kind of service anymore, less fortunate patients can't take advantage of this facility.  Caregivers -- usually the patient's adult children -- are then in an unenviable position of having to figure out how to go to work while also figuring out how to care for the patient.  (My mother is lucky; she works from home, but caring for my grandfather is a full-time job in itself, and she rarely gets the oppotunity to get out of the house aside from taking Grampa to doctor appointments, or to run errands -- but even then, she has to arrange for someone to sit with him.)

My mother's friend, Linda, who runs Senior Care of Brevard, submitted a proposal for a grant, sponsored by Pepsi.  The proposal was accepted, which means a lot of YAY!  But now comes the difficult part.  And this is the part where I am asking you, friends and friends-of-friends and random people who happen to stumble across this entry, to please help us harness the most-awesome Power of the Intarwebs. 

We need votes.  Whoever gets the most votes wins this $250,000 grant.  This is not an insignificant sum, and would go a long way  to helping a worthwhile facility.

HERE IS WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW:

Voting begins promptly on OCTOBER 1, 2010 at MIDNIGHT.

Here is URL you'll need.  GO HERE: http://www.refresheverything.com/

·      The screen is blue and divided into sections. Click on the right side where it says: "Browse Ideas and Vote"

·      Scroll to the bottom of the page; on the bottom left it says: "Sign in/Join 'Refresh Everything.'"

·      The first time voting, click on "Join 'Refresh Everything'" because you'll need to register in order to vote.

·      You'll have to create a username and password, but after the initial registration, you'll just have to click on "Sign in" at the bottom of the page each time you want to vote. 

And here's the best part:

·      You can vote EVERY DAY until midnight October 31, 2010!!!!!

BUT:

·      You are only allowed ONE vote per day for our cause.  The one who gets the MOST votes WINS.

The most important thing to remember is the initial 48 hours of voting is the MOST CRUCIAL because it establishes rank.  The numbers do not go UP, they go DOWN.  So, the lower the number, the better!  We're trying to get into FIRST PLACE here!

NOW:  How to FIND SCoB to vote for it!  (Because you know you really want to.  You really, really want to.)

Once you enter the site, there should be buttons across the top of the page designating areas where various people and organizations ahve submitted their work.  

SENIOR CARE OF BREVARD IS LOCATED UNDER "HEALTH."  (All "Health" related entries are in red.)  Click that red button!

Under that, amounts are listed:  $5000; $25,000; $50,000; and $250,000.  CLICK ON $250,000.

THEN LOOK FOR THE PROJECT TITLE:  "PROVIDE A SPONSORSHIP PROGRAM FOR THE INDIGENT AND POOR PATIENTS" (As of 10/1, the ranking was somewhere around  245)

If you click on that project title, you'll be linked to a short synopsis all about Senior Care of Brevard.

THERE IS A BUTTON THAT SAYS, "VOTE FOR THIS IDEA."  That is when you VOTE FOR THAT IDEA!

Please, guys -- vote.  Link to this page, if you like!  Pimp this out however you want.  Twitter, Facebook, EVEN SANDWICH-BOARD SIGNS WOULD BE GREAT.  But please, spread the word!

If SCoB wins this grant, they'll be able to provide dementia and Alzheimer's patients -- who would not otherwise be able to afford it -- a safe place to go during the day, and providing their caregivers with peace of mind.



 

I just totally pulled a "GET OFF MY DAMN LAWN."

About six or eight neighborhood kids were playing on and around the dock in our backyard.  Lots of screaming, lots of generally being little asshats. 

The dogs? Going ballistic.

Me?  TIRED OF THE DOGS OF THE DOGS GOING BALLISTIC.  So I peeked out back and saw the above scene.

Me: "OH, HELL NO."

So I went out back.  "Excuse me!  Is this yours? Any of it?"

"....no."

"Then what are you doing? GO PLAY IN YOUR OWN  YARD."

Then one girl pipes up with, "Well, my uncle said..."

"I. Don't. Care.  Did he ask me?  No."



I totally "get off my damned lawn"d them.

I managed to create a recipe for a diabetes-friendly chicken pot-pie.  It's not a pie, exactly -- it's more of a casserole, I think (lack of a crust, but with just enough penne to add some carbs and starchy yumminess).  But it's got that distinct comfort-food taste, and even though it's a little work-intensive, it is worth every minute of preparation.

I also used my herbs de Provence, and that just makes me feel culinarily snooty.

OMG YUM.

Also?  ALSO.  I experimented a little bit with a chocolate muffin recipe I have -- over the holidays, I used the batter to make a chocolate mint-chip loaf, which went over very well.  This time, I made the loaf with white wheat flour, and added a bit of fiori di sicilia flavoring, which has a bit of a citrusy taste.  So I basically have something that tastes a whole lot like those dark chocolate oranges, and I am likewise happy.  Granted, it isn't really what you'd call "diabetes-friendly," but George has found that he can have a small slice without throwing his numbers out of whack. 

IN FACT, he had an excellent check-up last week, and his doc was pretty damned impressed with how much progress he's making since his diagnosis.  (He lost weight over the holidays.  LOST WEIGHT.  OVER THE HOLIDAYS.  I told him that's grounds for divorce right there.)

It's been a good day. ^_^

My day summed up in ten points:

#1: My body hates me and insists upon waking me up at FIVE AM.

#2: Peet's Coffee & Tea have fantabulous customer service. I am blown away by the consistently awesome experiences I've had with them.

#3: Bank of America's customer service is as crappy as Peet's is wonderful.

#4: hecallaghan rocks my socks.

#5: HOLY CRAP I'M WRITING AGAIN.

#6: I really, really hate it when people put words in my mouth. It's one thing when we're dealing with the spoken word, and someone might not remember exactly what I might have said. It's another thing entirely when those words are TYPED OUT. Hello, jackass, I DIDN'T EFFING SAY THAT.

#7: It's not that I don't want to go to agility class tonight, it's that I'm praying for rain so I can stay in and write. It's also that I haven't been practicing weave poles religiously, and Darwin has sort of stalled, and I stripped one of the screws in my weave-pole set, so I can't adjust for this, and it's all very annoying right now.

#8: I will have a freshly painted kitchen (and NEW COUNTERTOP, YESSSS) in time for Thanksgiving.

#9: I may have to name my first-born after somnambulicious for turning me onto the King Arthur Baker's Companion. Their date-nut bread makes my mouth happy.

#10: I envy my dogs' ability to sleep anywhere, at any time.

Okay, so.  After this post, I'm going to start f-locking things talking about Gramps because I realize that not EVERYONE is going to want to read about it. 

( Getting old sucks. :( )

It looks like my Wednesday is going to start out with a migraine. AWESOME.  I am taking measures to cut it off before it progresses, but that hardly ever works so mostly I'm sitting here until I finish my tea.

Mom took Gramps to the neurologist yesterday, and the news is... not so good.  His MRI showed significant shrinkage in the frontal lobes since his last MRI, which was a year ago August.  The neurologist has since diagnosed him with mid-stage fronto-temporal dementia, which, apparently, is the worst kind of dementia to be diagnosed with.  It doesn't affect memory quite as much as other types of dementia, but rather affecting personality and behavior.  It's progressive, and most patients, after initial diagnosis, have about a 2 year life expectancy.  The neurologist thinks he's had this since last August.  Mom is... understandably upset.  I don't think I've really let it sink in yet.  I sort of don't want to.

I almost didn't go to agility last night, because this news had left us... kind of out of sorts, but in the end I went and had a really good time.  I talked with my agility instructor, Vickie, a breast cancer survivor (who, this time last year, was bald).  She gave me a hug and talked a bit.  "Don't feel guilty for doing the things you like to do," she said.  I told her it wasn't so much guilt that made me almost skip class, but my concern that my head wouldn't be in the game, so to speak.   But... the funny thing is, I've sort of reached a point with agility where when I'm on the course and running obstacles with Darwin, I almost go to a very zen place.  (Well, this happens when we're running WELL. Not when I'm screwing up and giving miscues.)  And even though last night I was a little distracted, and definitely screwed up and gave miscues, I still left class feeling very centered.

In other news, I would like very much to rant about this Roman Polanski BS until the cows come home, because I am thoroughly OUTRAGED at how many people seem to have turned into rape apologists overnight, and am doubly outraged at the media for using what I personally believe is misleading language regarding his crime.  "Having sex with a teenager/minor" conjures a completely different picture than and is NOT the same thing as "drugging and anally raping an adolescent."  And what the shit, do Hollywood A-listers actually believe they are above the law?  HE DRUGGED AND SODOMIZED A THIRTEEN YEAR OLD, GUYS.  LIVING THE HIGH LIFE SKIPPING AROUND EUROPE FOR THIRTY ONE YEARS DOES NOT CONSTITUTE "PUNISHMENT."  HE HAS NOT PAID ANY SORT OF DEBT TO SOCIETY.  COME ON, PEOPLE.  HE IS NOT SOME SORT OF TRAGIC HERO.  HE IS A RAPIST.  SAY IT WITH ME NOW: RAY-PIST.

So, hopefully someone on my f-list will compose a lengthy and vitriolic rant about the subject, because that's about all I can muster -- this headache is looking like I'm going to be out of commission for the rest of the morning.

In yet another episode of "Hi, I Still Don't Know What I Want To Be When I Grow Up," I'm wondering if anyone out there knows anything about Applied Behavior Analysis.  I've been doing some research and I'm in the "Ooh, this looks really interesting -- MUST LEARN MORE!" phase, but the internet hasn't been as helpful as I'd like.

So... anyone?  Input?  Thoughts?  Opinions?

For the past three weeks, not only have I been walking the doggies over one of the local causeways that link the mainland to the barrier islands (it's about a 2 mile walk w/ a significant incline), but in the afternoons Tora and I have been walking over a different causeway (a couple of miles north of the other one).  This bridge is a little over 2 miles and has a more significant (read: hateful, evil) incline.

So!  Three days a week I'm walking about four miles a day.  Go me!  And I assume someday I will stop being completely exhausted all the time.  Today is not that day.

However, never let it be said that our workout regimen is without excitement.  Yesterday, we went over the causeway, like we do, and on the return trip we noticed that there's a walkway that actually runs under the bridge.  So we, being the inquisitive-type people we are, took a walk along this walkway.  Under the bridge.

It was quite obviously a hotspot for fishing types, given all the... fish guts (oh, the aroma), and there were empty beer bottles and discarded bits of fishing line, and the whole "walking under the bridge" thing seemed like a much better idea when I hadn't considered the olfactory aspect of it.  Needless to say: gross.

Anyway, we're walking and we're walking and-- okay, so you've got this cement walkway that runs under the bridge (about halfway out, leaving enough room for boats to pass under the bridge).  And there are these enormous cement supports that are... yes, supporting the bridge.  These supports (which, to reiterate, were HUGE) have four sides to them, and about ten feet above the water line, the support widens about five feet on all four sides, creating a sort of ledge. 

And as we're walking, I saw a man standing on this ledge, fishing.  He... also appeared to be talking to himself, and there was what looked like a sleeping bag rolled up next to him.  And I felt that pang of "Aw, man" you feel in a situation like that.  I assume everyone knows the little twinge.  Then, as we passed, I glanced over my shoulder and saw that it wasn't a sleeping bag at all, but a woman curled up on her side, sleeping, and... yeah.  Another pang.  Weirdly, I almost felt as if I was... intruding?

And then, out of nowhere, Tora whacks my arm and says in a very low, urgent voice: "Turn around and walk."

I, being reasonably quick on the uptake, did just that.

"Keep walking," he said, also quietly.  "Don't look.  Just keep walking."

So as I'm walking -- quickly, I might add, to keep up with George (who ALWAYS complains to me about my death-march pace and long-legged strides) -- I'm wondering what his damage is.  As unfortunate as it is, it wouldn't be the first time we've seen a homeless person, and it's really not necessary for him to wig out like that.

"Did you see that?" he asked me, when we were out of earshot.

"Yeah, I think they were homeless."

Insert long pause wherein my darling husband gives me a look that... is not easily articulated (but I like to refer to it as his "Oh my god, you're supposed to be smart" look).  "He had a gun, Kara."

".......A gun?"

"In the waistband of his pants."

Insert a longer pause wherein I walk faster.

Evidently he hadn't been talking to himself, as I'd thought, but had instead been talking on a cell phone.

...

So... yeah.  I still don't even know what to make of any of that, but let it be said there is NEVER A DULL MOMENT with us.

I've actually been meaning to type this out for days now, but quite literally have not had time to sit down, gather my thoughts, and write anything out. Things have been busy lately -- Gramps is doing better, thank goodness, and the things keeping me busy have been not all bad, so that's good.

Sometime last week, I can't quite remember when (and it's not terribly important anyway), Tora was watching the news (MSNBC, iirc). I was just getting out of the shower when I heard a woman speaking on the importance of universal healthcare, and cited, as support for her argument, the "epidemic of diabetes in this country -- diabetes, a preventable disease". Her point was, basically, that universal healthcare was the magic key to solving this diabetes epidemic.

( Simply put: I disagree. )

It's kind of dawning on me that I've been extremely incommunicado for the past few weeks. Like, extremely.

Long story short -- everything's fine, but between doctor appointments, working on my Staffing Management take-home exam, birthday, and working on my Staffing paper/presentation, and then basic, everyday obligations I found myself in the rare situation where I kind of... did not realize I had dropped off the face of the earth so completely.

Birthday was wonderful -- we did not go to The Yellow Dog Cafe, as we have the past few years. For some unknown reason I was less enthused about it this year, so George made me dinner instead, and we spent Saturday together just doing goofy couple-y things, and Sunday Mom made a phenomenal birthday dinner (filet mignon with a green peppercorn sauce, oh my GOD SO GOOD), and somewhere in there was an ice cream cake from Ben & Jerry's. Mom surprised me with The King Arthur's Baker's Companion, which made me VERY happy (I was shocked she even remembered I wanted it), and I've already tried out a few recipes (zucchini lemon muffins are to die for).

The sole blemish on the weekend was our experience going to see Coraline.  For a while it looked like we were going to have the entire theater to ourselves when -- FIFTEEN MINUTES INTO THE MOVIE (not the previews, the movie), a family of six came in: two adults, three children who appeared to be under the age of six, and one infant.

And sat right behind us.  In an otherwise empty theater.  RIGHT. BEHIND. US.

And then proceeded to talk.  In conversational tones.  And then the children proceeded to whine about godknows what.  And then the infant started to fuss.  And then the jackoffasaurus sitting behind George started to kick his seat.  Oh, and about five minutes after this lot came in, another family with small children came into the theater, and sat further towards the back.

After about twenty minutes of incomprehensible rudeness and having turned around to give the adults my best "Are you fucking kidding me?" glare, I said "Fuck this" (possibly audibly; I cannot remember -- THAT'S HOW ENRAGED I WAS), I got up and nearly walked out, then decided to switch seats instead.  (George, I think, was disappointed that I didn't make a beeline for the door; that's how fed up he was.)  So I headed up towards the back, basically placing us closer to the OTHER family.

Dude, seriously -- who screws around with a celophane wrapper for two solid minutes?  ARGH.  These children were marginally better behaved, but that's not really saying much. (And having gone to the movies with R&C and their three munchkins, I am perfectly aware of the fact that it IS possible to teach children how not to behave like complete animals at the movies.)  

At some point during all of this, the cockbites we moved AWAY from apparently had not turned off their cell phone, either.

Usually I'm one of those people who WILL say something in a movie theater.  I WILL shush someone who is being a complete moron.  I WILL turn around and let the person who is kicking my seat know that I do not appreciate their percussion solo vibrating against my tailbone.  However, I did not speak up this time -- and I think I know why:  I try to make it a point not to swear like a sailor in front of small children, and I was so completely furious that if I opened my mouth, the tirade would not end until I had insulted someone's parentage in language decorated vibrantly with as many creative invectives as I am capable of conceiving.

So, yes.  I finally saw Coraline.  No, I cannot say that I particularly enjoyed the experience.  Not for lack of trying, mind.

OH.  OH OH OH.  And when the lights went up?  And everyone left?  We took a look behind us at where the other family had been sitting?  OH MY SWEET MONKEY JEBUS, THE MESS THEY LEFT BEHIND WAS A PILE OF EPIC FAIL.  A pile of juice boxes on the floor, wrappers, spilled popcorn, cups, GOD IT WAS FOUL.  There was a trail of popcorn down the stairs.  It defied words.  Honestly. 


So, other than THAT, it was a lovely birthday.