Screaming with Mimi

We watch a lot of children's DVDs in our house. Not only is it (probably) safer for Shirley's emotional health than watching our Jet Li movie collection, but I'm also trying to get better at my Spanish skills (After years of practice, I believe my competency is now at "extremely verbal toddler" insead of "sedated parrot.") through watching them with the Spanish language track switched on. Lately, I've been working my way through the "Garfield and Friends" series.

Fans of the series may remember the segment "Screaming with Binky," in which Binky the obnoxious clown ("El Payaso Binky") comes onstage and yells "HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIDZZ!!!!!!" at the top of his lungs while the other characters try to maul him. Just the sort of mindless entertainment that made the sugar-infused Saturday mornings of my childhood such a trial for my mother.

Last night, we were able to experience "Screaming with Mimi." Immediately after dinner, Shirley was unable to cope with the unfortunate reality that she had drained her bottle of milk and commenced to show her displeasure vocally. When time out in her crib didn't work, I decided that since she wasn't going to be happy regardless of the situation, I might as well go ahead and give her a bath. In retrospect, this plan may have been a mistake. My left ear is still ringing slightly from her wails.

After ten and a half hours of sleep, she's a much happier person, thank God.

Grandma is also doing much better. She's been moved to "the head case floor," and if all goes well should be going home this weekend.

He is risen!

I love Easter. Probably it has something to do with my childish joy over any holiday that involves special church services, lots of loud singing, and Marshmallow Peeps, but Easter is my all-time favorite holiday in the entire church year. (My favorite personal holiday is the Winter Solstice, but that's just because it means that the light will come back and my seasonal depression will get better. And since God apparently chose to make me with seasonal issues like this, I trust that God understands. It's strangely difficult to find cards that say "Happy Winter Solstice," so I usually settle for "Happy Holidays.")

It's spring-time, flowers are blooming, wildlife is reproducing (A note to the neighborhood feline population: Please try to modulate the volume on your late-night serenades and lover's quarrels. The cuteness of your eventual offspring does not outweigh the disturbance you are currently causing in my sleep.) and God has conquered Sin and Death and Hell! Jesus is risen from the dead, HOW COOL IS THAT!?

I had planned to spend the previous week in Wyoming visiting Grandma, as the 9th was her 80th birthday. However, due to "budgetary shortfalls," we're having to delay the trip until August, when the passes will be clear enough to drive. (I haven't had the heart to tell our trusty Toyota that it's got a four-cylinder engine, but the fact remains that it's mostly fiberglass. I refuse to drive in snow and ice unless it's absolutely unavoidable.)

So we spent Easter weekend with Penny and Dave. After a very disturbing midnight cryptic text message from Mom (which I followed up with multiple panicked telephone calls after I checked my messages at 0500) I found out that Grandma had fallen, gotten a subdural hematoma, had emergency surgery, and was in ICU in Cheyenne.

And as of yesterday, she's still in ICU. Granted, of all the things which can possibly be interpreted as "bleeding on the brain," a subdural hematoma is one of the easiest to fix, but brain surgery when you're 80 is still...brain surgery! I'm trying to turn off the "nursing panic" that comes from having the letters "RN" behind my name and knowing what could go wrong, but it's still hard.

(Extra points to the ICU nurse I first talked to on Sunday when I couldn't get ahold of any of the family. "I can't tell you anything because of the HIPPA act and the privacy laws, OK?"
"I know that," I said. "I'm a RN in Oregon and can you just tell me how many drips she's attached to so I can know if I need to fly out there right now?"
She chuckled. "Okay, I'm not telling you this, but your grandma's awake, talking to us, and doing much better than before the surgery.")

So I'm doing what I usually do when family members are sick and I can't sleep and I'm worried--knitting. I've got about 1200 yards of handspun in a pink/orange/brown/ colorway (And about 2 more ounces of my own "crazy batt" to spin up more in case I run short.) and I've started the gauge swatch for Sonnet. Thank God for nice easy mindless knitting.