(Humming.)
There is a Ken doll on a chair in the living room. Next to him a Barbie is wearing a "towel" (scrap of cloth) secured by a hairband. And Ken's attire? A fabulous purple satin ball gown. I think he stole the dress right off her. He looks so happy. Perhaps he's singing in his head.....
I do not feel obliged to believe that the same God who has endowed us with sense, reason, and intellect has intended us to forgo their use.
Check out these pictures. It's enough to make a grown woman moan. It's been forever since we were last at the beach and I miss it so. Even in the winter, it's compelling. Though during these months it's less because of the soft, warm sand and more because the land and seascape present a gorgeous, pounding, frothing mess. Cool things wash up from the storms and only the quiet, hardcore beach/ocean worshippers are out. A deserted beach is even better than a warm one. Both features are hard to acheive simultaneously. Though there was that one in Tahiti. Actually, several were vacant or nearly so. Hmmm.
You know, in spite of the fact that the bulbs are up, the sunshine is brilliant, etc., I'm ready to chuck everything and move. How long do you think one can stay in French Polynesia on a regular passport? How much do you think it would cost to ship the kids' books?
Yeah, well. Coming up with the airfare would be a problem, Q's therapies would be a problem, heck, feeding him and keeping him busy on the plane ride alone would be tough. So. Never mind. But it was a nice little brain vacation, yes? Thanks for coming along.
Back we go to laundry, the children (all reading contentedly) and Q's happy burbles.
1 box Just for Kids vanilla
1 1/2 T cornstarch, stirred into just enough cold water to dissolve
1/2 - 3/4 c semisweet chocolate chips (read the label for allergens)
Pour the supplement into a container at least three times it's size. Nuke for 1 minute while stirring water and cornstarch together. Whisk cornstarch into warm supplement. Nuke again for about a minute in 10 - 15 second increments, whisking in between, 'til the mixture boils enough to begin to thicken. It will thicken more as the chocolate is added and it cools. Add chocolate to taste and whisk 'til blended. Let cool.
This is a very, very high calorie "dessert" meant only for folks trying to gain weight. I tasted it and it's grand, much more like ganache than a nutritional supplement. Yum! Q loved it and he has more in the fridge waiting for his little smacky mouth.
A little better sleep, a little walking, a little potluck and sermon and fantastic orchestra later and we're taking no prisoners today, baby! (I don't even know what that means, but I've already run three loads of laundry, the dishwasher is chugging away, all kinds of stuff has been sorted and tossed and I've miles to go yet.)
I'll be back to post more later, but the sun is out, we have goals and smiles and it's a good day.
(Insert heralding trumpets and cheeky grin here.)
Things have improved enough on the sleep front that I'm feeling a little less whiny and shaky about it all. I think the last Pulmicort dose was given on the last truly awful night. We've subsided into a more familiar routine of Q falling asleep between 11 and midnight and waking 2-6 times to nurse. As pathetic as it sounds, this is much better. So much better that I feel all giddy contemplating heading to bed in a few minutes.
But first, let me tell you what we did earlier this evening. She says, rubbing her hands together in glee. We got out my dad's telescope and went out to the top of a local foothill and watched the lunar eclipse. We saw plenty of other features as well -- the rings on Saturn. The rings on Saturn, people! G swore he could see one of Saturn's moons. This proclamation brought on excited outbursts from S who was, while doing her best Tigger impersonation, ready to swear to seeing at least four moons around Saturn's "rainbow loops." The three pairs of lovers who had adjourned to more or less the same location were quite gracious about her bounciness. Funny girl.
We looked into Orion's nebula, the ongoing birthplace of millions of stars. We saw the Pleiedes with our naked eyes, then looked into the lens only to see truly hundreds of stars residing silently inside the same area we affectionately refer to as "the teaspoon" when casually stargazing. The moon faded into a dark, ruddy orb. Then, as the light slivers slipped off the last edge, we ate. Nothing like a handful of warm burrito in the cold dark night, atop a grassy knoll. By the time we were done with the food, the light was gaining on the opposite edge, revealing, millimeter by millimeter, craters, canyons, meteor tracks, perhaps even the Sea of Tranquility. (Begging your pardon, but I'm not up on my lunar geography.)
It was incredible. We watched carefully the lines we saw in the sky and thought that perhaps we had even had a little of the Aurora Borealis for company this evening. My dad needed the break from work, and we all snapped up the cosmic reminder of just how small we really are. The moon regained her full, round self as we drove home, her reflection bouncing and sliding on the rear window of the car we were following.
I hope you got to see some of it, wherever you are. And I hope your evening was as lovely as ours. I'm the only one still awake and that'll last about another three minutes.
G'night.
Love,
me
Q is lying on the floor, on a nest of blankies, wrapped in more to keep warm, playing like a task-oriented child, with some beads strung off his Baby Einstein caterpillar music toy. I've had him asleep twice already and my back is whining at me as a result. And let's be reasonable: how long can one expect to walk the floor with a limp 25 lb bag o' sugar in one's arms before just running out of steam? Does the time of day have anything to do with the rate at which one approaches exhaustion?
I just wanna sleeeep. I wanna curl up in between those flannel sheets, pull those covers up over my ears, and just. sleep. At an hour at which one might expect to sleep. Instead of somewhere around 2 am. Or whenever the boy decides to finally collapse. Wah.
Still with the beads. Lots of yanking and waving there. Lots of bopping the nice buttons on the caterpillar's belly to make the lights and music go.
I'm going to try to sneak under a blanket on the couch and see if he'll let me nap a little before he needs something again.
(Have I mentioned that sleep deprivation is my least favorite form of torture? I have? You don't think me pathetic, do you? Please say no, even if you're whispering about me behind your hand. I'll pretend. Wah.)
Wah.
(A momentary pause in the hilarity in the next room. Ah. The beads are waving, the fake orchestra playing earnestly once again. All is well.)
Wah wah wah. Wah wah-wah. Wah-bitty-wah. Wah wah wah.
There go my language skills. Sigh. (Buh-bye! Nice knowin' ya!!) On the bright side, lesson planning is done well into March so maybe I'll have recovered myself by the time I have to be, you know, all language-y again.
'night. God bless.
(wah)
I'm glad that today is nearly over. The Frenemy bread is spawning little spores off itself and I expect to find newly formed, fragrant loaves under the couch later this evening as it slowly takes over the house.
Q had therapy with a different PT plus the usual student who trails him. It was interesting to watch how different folks have different takes on him and goals for him physically. It was a little frustrating to see how easy it is for strangers to miss his signals which have obviously become a matter of pure intuition for me and his other therapy folks.
This evening was especially frustrating. I'm working still on this feeding business. I smunched homemade mac 'n' cheese for him. The delivery was not as bad as it could have been, but it sure wasn't easy. First one must get the bite in, then hold his lips closed, talking all the while to make him aware of his little mouth and how it functions. We're trying to get him to be alert to how his lips work so that he can use them instead of his teeth to clean off the spoon. So he has the mac 'n' cheese in his mouth. It's in small pieces, neither pureed nor in chunks large enough to choke on. After his mouth goes shut, it's time to work the jaw so he'll remember to chew. Still the lips are shut because otherwise the food comes out and the goal is to get it down him, after all. After a few bites of this (thinned a little with half and half) he begins to profoundly lose interest. I give up after he manages to turn two bites in a row into little fountains of pasta. In slow motion, this would be really fascinating to watch. I really have no idea how he does it.
This is extra hard because it's easier to get food into him when he's on his back, but this position presents a choking hazard and another opportunity for aspiration. Plus, he's recently figured out that swallowing really is easier if his head is up. Which also increases the likelihood that some or all of it will come back out of his mouth, unless I'm holding his mouth shut with my fourth hand. Because my third hand is busy pulling clumps of macaroni out of my hair, of course. Silly. While my first and second hands/arms are fully engaged in holding him up and keeping the spoon and bowl under my control. Because I don't really like wearing his food. Crazy, I know.
So I'm ending my day looking like no one so much as Carrot Top. Except he at least has orange hair with which to complete the picture. I have only six batches of Frenemy Bread splattered on me, along with the macaroni and whatever I fed the boy for lunch. Romantic, yes? Lucky for me nobody gives a rat's patootey. Ha HA!
Lest you think me whiny, let's be perfectly clear: that role is reserved for the short ones here. They'd complain if I took it from them, and heaven knows I don't want to feed that particular skill set. I wouldn't trade my messy self for anything. Well, okay. I can think of exactly two things I'd trade it for. But since those two things aren't currently in my control, let's just wallow in the bread-y smells my kidlets and I made and the memories we created along with the goo. Two batches of chocolate chip with Hershey's Special Dark cocoa (and some Kahlua to round out those flavors, yessirree), one batch of golden raisin, currant, walnut, cardamon, nutmeg, cinnamon and cognac (Oh, baby), one of lemon with dried cherries (still in the oven as I write), one sweet potato and cinnamon with a pinch of ginger, one batch of ginger, cinnamon, molasses, brown sugar (also baking). As Ree would say, "Lawsy-mercy." My eldest has announced that I'm an evil person, kindly spoiling him with "wretched sweet bread that he willingly eats." Yeah, that's me.
Earlier today, before the mass production of comfort food, I was emotionally wiped. Bad stuff looping in an ever worse negative feedback cycle. I spent some time being ticked at someone who is complaining about their kids, all the while missing the classic signs of issues right in front of them. But then, this person doesn't want to hear about that. They want to be right, not do the right thing. (Harsh? Maybe. But we can discuss that after you spend a couple of years reviewing the research on the subject.) So I fumed, inwardly. Then to a friend. Then to another. All the while I'm wondering what the heck my problem is. I mean, I don't even know this person, for crying out loud. The week has been outrageously productive school-wise. The kids have been great -- better every day. Q has worked hard with his EI teacher and today in therapy, despite a bump up in his meds yesterday which left him with rotten tone, unable even to hang on to the ropes on the therapy swing. We played in the sunshine at a local park, wearing ourselves out. All good, very good.
So what is with me? Well, the stuff with Q is always draining, to some degree. And this week has been once again full of precious memories of things like two dozen of the tallest, reddest roses known to man, of whispered confessions, sweetness, tenderness and all things Valentine. But I thought we were largely past at least the bulk of the sorrow and longing those two topics raise? Not today. Maybe not ever. But that's not what was doing it.
Today my littlest brother would have been thirty-one. More than twenty-seven years later, some years it's not such a big deal. Some years it sucks the air out of the room. This year seems to have been one of those years. What can I say? This week I've watched little blond boys climb furniture and argue with their mommies, little guys who can run and laugh and say "pease" when begging indulgence. Maybe I'm feeling it more this year as Q struggles to approach things my baby brother once did easily. Sometimes, earth's gravity feels extra heavy.
So I'm just going to go start the dishwasher and pray that tonight brings sleep for all us exhausted parents of the living and the missing and the dead. And we'll count our blessings: for Valentine's my dad bought my mom a sweet ring to commemorate both her birthstone and their fortieth anniversary. This is so far out of character for my dad that I can't possibly explain it to you. But he reached outside his particular experience and understanding and did exactly the thing for his wife that he knew she really wanted. With all the crap in the world, they are better together every day. The grace involved in this leaves me a little breathless.
May you rest long and well this weekend, enjoying the company of your favorite people, conversation with your littles, hugs and smooches to sustain you, renewal in time with the Creator, and contentment in your surroundings. If you're having tears, I hope they're brief and kissed away by your beloved, as kindness steals the sadness away.
Peace.
We celebrated K's new lack of hardware by chewing gum, what else? It was neat to see her so down to her toes happy with such a little thing. But it's not such a little thing when you've been months without your gum and you've been so very patient.
While we were at the therapy place yesterday, I spotted a mama sitting with little bitty conjoined twins. I went and found her after we were done to tell her that her girls are beautiful. They are, too. Such sweet little round faces, one with an NG tube. I asked her if she'd just started coming. She said no, that her older daughter has had therapies there for a while, but the babies had just started. I told her that I was asking because I'm usually knee deep with my little guy during that time and thought that I'd somehow missed seeing her before, since I kind of develop tunnel vision when Q's working. She smiled, looking so tired as she was waiting for her daughter (in her walker) to catch up to the stroller.
It was a twin stroller, no doubt used differently than the designer had envisioned. Two sweet babies, snuggled side by side, tight against each other, the remaining seat piled with a foam wedge and miscellaneous pieces to make a good, comfy baby bolstering kind of seat.
As I loaded my first and third born into the van to head home and attend to the various needs of the group, I was struck by the effort it must require to keep three high and specific needs littles happy, together, fed, and medical needs met, never mind getting out of the house to other appointments. What a very good mom. Honestly. The NG tube is what just blows my mind.
I had another conversation yesterday about a G tube for Q. He's having yet another stretch of time in which he doesn't want to eat. I don't know if the gagging at textures, flavors, or whatever, is due to the inferior quality of the food here (snort) or if it might be because he needs to have less inflammation in his head. The process of getting the prescription from the pediatrician, the letter of denial for the particular supplement from WIC, then getting the three cases per month of this stuff delivered and administered, well, the process is rolling along. It'll take a few more weeks before everything lines all the way up.
I talked with a pharmacy tech today about how to get Medicaid/SSI to give a blanket approval to ODT (Orally Disintegrating Tablets) as the preferred method of dosing for Q. She says it's not possible. Argh. See, the problem arises when we have a situation like the one that came up last week. In ER, Q was given an ODT dose of a steroid. The doc wrote "substitution permitted" on the actual prescription but when I asked about ODT was told that the drug prescribed was not available in that form. I've heard this before, but didn't sit with that then either and that's how he got the Clonazepam in ODT. The biggest problem with this latest scrip is that it was only for three days, three doses. By the time I could have argued with the people in charge, the need would have been gone. Of course this med had a horrible taste. Bad tasting meds make Q salivate and gag. People who have trouble swallowing or managing saliva are more likely to aspirate, which is one event that can instigate an episode of Reactive Airway Disease.
And Q's jumpy again. Yesterday and today when lying on his back he's been exhibiting that same sort of frantic tensing that led to the seizure diagnosis. I'm wondering if we're needing to up that Trileptal dose. It's been several months since he had any change. I would say that he's outgrown the dose, but I'm not sure that's the case, since he's down again to about 25.5 lbs.
Ups and downs, happy and cranky, messy and tidy. I feel as though I should be writing such phrases into a musical about motherhood. Q has had a wild sleep "schedule" lately. Over the weekend he slept badly and then, out of the blue, eight and a half hours in his very own bed. Last night was not so great, so since we seem to be alternating nights for restlessness vs. sacked out hard REM sleep, I'm thinking maybe tonight's the night. For me! To sleep! (Break out the chorus line here.)
Q's therapy people both canceled for tomorrow. Seems 'tis the season for little ones to be generous with their germs and both will be out for a few days recovering. So my darling aunt is coming over in the morning to stay with Q who may or may not be sleeping while I take whomever else is ready with me. K is having her spacer checked out, maybe removed. She's hopeful. I think she might need a little more room created in there.
G has OT in the morning, which he really seems to love. Maybe the "dino wars" he gets to wage there have something to do with it. Then we'll be home again to move more furniture in my never-ending quest to create a house full of wheels-friendly space. The girls and I will sit to do some more school (G is working on self-discipline in this arena), and then off to tumbling.
It's been far too long since I posted a real Gratitude List. Since having everyone asleep at the same time (and before one in the morning!) makes me feel all giddy and expansive and unreasonably optimistic, here goes...
I am grateful for:
A venue in which to write, kvetch and exult in life.
Flannel sheets.
Healthy kidlets.
Good meds, dosed in a timely fashion, by people who are paying attention. The combination is truly a lifesaver.
That I know "stuff" like -- sternal retractions and "belly breathing" mean it's time to go to the ER. Like, how to ask questions when I don't know the answers. How to cut flowers underwater so they'll last longer. How to make my babies laugh, even when they're trying to be all pre-teen-y, pitching attitude. How to whip up a delicious, satisfying meal with whatever happens to be in the pantry (thanks, mom). How to split and stack wood and start a fire with one match. How to make pretty things. How to scratch tender backs, tuck in little wounded (tired) egos, and snuggle in between three little bodies at three a.m.
A warm place to be, with people who love us.
Color(s). All of 'em. Certain colors are more appealing to me than others, but I can't nail it down to a favorite. I love color.
Internet access.
Our local library and the patient people there who answer endless questions from me and mine.
Smart people who write good books. Smart people who talk to me, sharing insight and empathy and sometimes even their Starbucks. (grins) I am renewed by these interactions.
The nameless thing that keeps me excited about my life, such as it is, and always looking for new ways to do, learn, be, understand or create.
All the folks I know who are on more or less the same path thanks to their own version of the latter.
A church in which my kidlets can get to know God, in which the people are earnest, imperfect seekers, filled with a common vision and kindness.
Look at that list! I am blessed, blissed, fortunate indeed. Thanks for riding this rollercoaster with me, folks. Your presence is bolstering.
Rest well.
The boy slept better last night. He gets his last dose of oral steroids this evening. This will bring us down to only six meds to dose at bedtime. Woot! Here's to leaving this experience in the dust and moving on with much more fun stuff. Acting his age, for example. He seems quite committed to this. More on that in the coming weeks.
The card making was fun, I think, but I never even got close to the table (bad mommy) -- young ladies were making stuff like mad. We're wrapping the evening up with a laundry folding party. Or rather a laundry waving party. ...Might as well be walking on the sun... Nothing like dancing while whirling a shirt over one's head. It's been too, too long. E was laughing breathlessly, "Mom! I didn't know you knew about music and stuff like this!"
Well. It's sad how moving and moving and colic and pacifiers and moving and poop and moving can rewire one's brain. Or maybe I'm just getting old. Horrors. Maybe I should go for a drive on the freeway, shrieking, with my head out the window, while tossing confetti. For old time's sake. Wait. The last time I did something like that both of us involved were nearly arrested and the driver got an enormous ticket. What? Don't look at me like that. We went back and scraped the paper off the frozen road in the middle of the night while at least one of the cops watched. Yeah, yeah. It was a college town, and co-eds were the entertainment/eye candy -- payoff for the police force having to put up with us. Or they could have been actually trying to make sure we weren't attacked or something.
Maybe it's not such a bad thing to leave those things in the dust, too. Lots of fun in the moment, but talking your way out of an angry policeman's glare while trying not to giggle is probably best left to those silly girls we were.
Goodness, but I'm tired. I've gotta go move a bookcase. And turn off "Hungry Like a Wolf." That's not terribly appropriate for little ears, now is it?
It appears I'm feeling a little, erm, rebellious (restless?) this evening. Zero cutting loose will do that to a person, I hear. Time to find some new solutions before my head cracks open. Give me some ideas, people. I'm out of practice.
Q's asleep, but won't be for long, I'm sure -- it's far too early for him to really go down. In lieu of a Calgon moment, I had a shower and revelled thoroughly in my Coconut Lemongrass sugar scrub. And this rounded out the day.
Peace.
Later, when I've had some sleep, I'll look back on this and roll my eyes. But for right now...
Let's indulge in a few moments of self-pity, shall we? Q's sitting on my lap, head full of snot, happily kicking a small stack of papers into submission. He went down at about 12:15, and got up at about three to nurse. The ibuprofen had worn off and he had a fever again. While we waited for the next dose to kick in he passed the time by crying. At 4:58 he fell asleep, suddenly and hard. I laid him down a couple of minutes after 5 and he slept until about 6:30. More crying. Finally, exhausted, he laid on his boppy, bundled up on the floor, with Elmo's World on PBS. I petted his little ears and neck and he slept again at 7:30.
(whispering) I don't know if I can do this again tonight. The tears are just leaking out. I have a stack of papers to attend to, appointments to schedule, and cleaning/organizing to do.
Meanwhile, school and dishes are getting done. Somehow, things always continue. My folks will be here again this evening without having to head out to work tomorrow, so I'm sure tonight will be a little easier. Not that they couldn't use some sleep of their own. E just came and took the boy off my lap to play with toys, so I'm going to go get his next round of meds going and maybe clean the bathroom. Shoot, maybe I'll even get a shower. (smiles)
Okay. Tears over. This episode of Being Overwhelmed has been brought to you by our friend estrogen. And now we're moving on.
Church and kids' choir tomorrow morning, then in the evening we're making Valentines for our loved ones. We will have chocolate, of course, and some of the Apricot Pecan Amish Frenemy Bread* we made last night. It'll be great fun. The Christmas cactus, now renamed the Valentine cactus, has a baker's dozen of fat buds on it, each in a different stage of not yet blooming.
And now the kidlets are congregating, looking for jobs to do to tidy up. Awww. (Who are these children and where did they come from? Maybe mommy should cry more often. Snort.)
Have a luverly weekend, all.
*We now have twelve bags of starter. Visit this house at your peril -- you will be leaving with at least two of those bags somewhere on your person. It is useless to resist us.
Being sick, Q has dropped a couple of pounds. I suspect some of it is due to hydration (the nose as faucet), which I'm working on with diluted juices. Plus which, we've been waiting on supplement info from a nutritionist which (who?) seems to have disappeared into the ether. However, the pediatrician has gotten the ball rolling in a big way: her MA got on the phone with the company which produces the particular supplement the doc is interested in Q having and they'll "just take care of it." (whew)
We're back to Albuterol and Pulmicort. The ER doc thought the Pulmicort unnecessary, since the chest x-ray was clear and the Prednisolone would be much more effective, systemically. The Pediatrician wants the boy to continue the meds as is (both steroids), and we're trying the Albuterol over the Xopenex because he seemed to have responded to it much more quickly (ER) than he did the Xopenex (home). So far, the clonus/tremoring has not been dramatically increased with one med vs. the other.
He has not done well getting food down this evening, so the Just For Kids samples are in use. I'm off to administer the next round of things and get E baking the interminable supply of Amish "Friend"ship Bread we seem to be enjoying.
More later.
The boy slept for six hours straight last night. (Insert Hallelujah Chorus here.) Perhaps it's the result of his steroid. Off to do school, laundry, and a trip to the pediatrician before gymnastics.
Thanks so very much for the prayers.
Q is down, thoroughly medicated, only coughing a little thanks to the NEB meds. Started Xopenex and Pulmicort earlier this evening after a bath failed to clear him out sufficiently. The breath sounds are high but sound a little like a creaky freighter. I didn't hear anything alarming in his actual lungs. With both a history of bronchiolitis which would make him vulnerable to respiratory issues and a brother with asthma, this makes me a little alert. He's been out for about half an hour which either means the meds are working well and he'll sleep all night, waking up a freer breathing boy, or he's gearing up to be awake at 3am again.
Whatever. I've got to go finish up some paperwork. What does one do when the government insists that they need things that don't exist? One finds a more reasonable person in the office. Having some experience working in government, if you find a more reasonable person, you should really get a picture of the two of you together. Why? Because he or she is likely a temp employee and won't exist when you return to inquire why your paperwork was marked as incomplete when you clearly, precisely followed what the reasonable person asked you to do.
Sheesh. Thank God the house isn't too awful tonight. I'm just flat out of energy to do the nightly tidy up. And never mind the laundry. Everyone has plenty of clean clothes to get us through the next couple of days. There's piano in the morning. Have to make sure I have Q up in time for the nebulizer before we go...
Pray for us, will you? Thanks so much, and back at ya.
XO
I am tired. A good tired, though. We were busy and invested in much generating of paperwork which was filed away when we were done for the day. (And note how handily I avoided a comma splice in that last sentence. I almost left out the "and" but caught myself just in time. Must. set. good. example.) Frankly, I'm glad we were all still liking each other at the close of things. The volume of work we plowed through left us with some moments of adamant frustration. In fact, at one point K asked me, in a very sweet voice, "Are you having a bad day?" (No, sweetie. We're all having a bad day.) E spent some time frothing at the mouth, G wasn't going to do another thing, thanks for playing, mom. We fixed that right up with potato leek soup and apple crisp with ice cream. You'd be happier too, wouldn't you?
Nonetheless, the effort and accomplishment made me proud and I told them so. I'll tell them again in the morning.
This tired is a nice contrast to the exhaustion of the weekend wherein, Mr. Q got up at 3:45 Sunday morning. I managed to get him back to sleep finally by stroking his ears (my heavens but they're just like his daddy's) when S got up. It was about 5:30. K followed at about 6. I bundled the Q up and propped him on pillows with an overhead toy playing music and found a CBC station playing kids programming. And I pulled a blanket over my head and collapsed on the couch.
And, now he's up again. Coughing. (Yes, that's a sentence fragment. What're ya gonna make of it!?) Poor baby. This cold is a nasty, evil, excessively phlegmy bug.
I had planned to get some writing done, maybe go to bed early enough to want to get up. Ah, well. There's always later. Heh.
Peace.
I hope the whole world has heard about this by now. I swear, somebody give me a plane and some weapons and the mamas of the world will invoke our own scorched earth policy with these people. I like to think of myself as a relatively non-violent person, indulging only occasionally in some daydream of righteous indignation fulfilled. But so help me God, using a mentally retarded person to destroy other life is beyond the pale. And you know I'm right -- it would only take about three dozen properly motivated folks to fix this.
Something good had better come out of this. Perhaps we can start by removing the perpetrators from the planet. Let's meet at the airport, say around three tomorrow afternoon. Bring your rocket launchers, dust off your AK-47s, pull the missiles out from under your beds. I'll see you there.
Pass it on.
Make your Stick Figure Family at FreeFlashToys.com
