Oh Where is my Hairbrush!!!

For some of you the title of this post will immediately make you start bobbing up and down as you sing one of the all time greatest Veggie Tales songs - The hairbrush song. (Just as an aside - if you have never heard Audio Adrenaline sing it your life simply isn't complete, you just don't know it yet. come see me I'll play it for you) However, I have never really internalized The hairbrush song the way that I did on my Daddy vacation last week.

First, you need to know that the Hairbrush in question was PERFECT. Really! I mean worthy of it's own blog just about how wonderfully the bristles moved just enough but not to much, and none of the little ends came off, and it wasn't too big and ... - Perhaps you should "talk amongst yourselves" for a moment.

Sorry

Second, I have been searching for a duplicate hairbrush for as long as I've had it, especially once Tim started using it. All the while knowing that my time with the perfect hairbrush was limited due to my own nature. To no avail I have searched the world over. I think it may have been promotional or something another one does not exist - Even on EBay. (It was a white clinique hairbrush that came in one of those 'get free with purchase' kits. If you have one, name your price.)

Third, I have had it for SIXTEEN YEARS! No joke. I can't keep anything for that long without breaking it or locking it up so that it never comes in contact with me. I know it has been 16 yrs because we came together at a bitter time for me. It was a gift from some well meaning stupid person. I remember thinking "ooo this is an interesting brush, I have never had a brush like this one, I'd like to try it out" but alas ...

"No Hair for my hairbrush, no hair for my hairbrush, no hair no hair no where no hair no fair no hair no where back there NO HAIR..... for my hairbrush"

(enough about that. just refrain from giving a cancer patient a hair brush until after treatments, it will mean more then).

Finally, and this is the Kicker, before leaving the house on my Daddy vacation, I remember thinking "you shouldn't take the hairbrush, you'll lose it." Tuesday morning: . . .

"having just finished his [her] morning bath and having searched for his [her] hairbrush
Larry [Emily] cries out
'oh where is my hairbrush, oh where is my hairbrush, oh where oh where oh where oh where oh where oh where is my hairbrush'
having heard his [her] cry Pa Grape [Daddy] enters the scene, shocked and slightly embarrassed at the sight of Larry [Emily] in a towel Pa [Daddy] regains his composure and reports 'I think I saw your hairbrush back there [in the car]'
'Back there is my hairbrush, back there is my hairbrush, back there back there oh where back there oh where oh where back there back there back there is my hairbrush'"

(no Daddy didn't see me in a towel; otherwise it was just like that...spooky huh)

Hope! I searched the room, Daddy searched the car. It was time to go so we delayed our searching and I used Daddy's "Fonzie" comb and we got on with the day. No worries really seeing as how a Hairbrush can't just get up and walk off. Can it?

Daddy Vacation!

SO,

Daddy retired and Tim said one day - "You just need to take your Daddy on a vacation"

so I did.

I got really EXCITED. We decided to go to the Space Center and stay for 2 nights eat lots of breakfast and Seafood. Yum! Still I have to admit - just me and my Daddy hasn't happened since our trips to Houston for chemotherapy 16 years ago - so I was a little apprehensive about how much "dead air" there would be. I mean, Tim is the talker in our relationship and Mom is the talker in theirs so would that mean we would both stare off into space wondering if the other would come up with something to say? Or maybe 16 years worth of words would begin to flow uncontrollably from some fold deep in the brain waiting ... - OK scratch that definitely not. But really, would it be awkward? I remember those Houston trips with a bit of a mental block. None the less by the end of a week we were both so exhausted of words that one time I actually sang all 99 verses of 99 bottles of "coke" on the wall just to break the silence and even more unbelievable Daddy didn't stop me.

Turns out there was no awkward silence nor was there a deep chasm of words. Well, acctually I did surprise myself on the way down there. like I said, I was really excited and I get words when I am excited. Daddy is such a good listener, he just listened while I talked. It was exactly as it should be, just like the good days was when I was 16. Daddy being Daddy and Me being Me. Together.

See! this is Daddy putting the hotel DVD player back together after it ate his DVD

Daddy being Daddy and Me being Me. Together.

My Favorite Christmas Present

It... is finished.

I have been working night and day on an ugly old chair my mom didn't want anymore. She gave it to me at Christmas.



Any one wonder why? Or do you just wonder why I took it.



Mom actually inheirited it from my aunt, who didn't want it anymore either


Well, I have this amazing new room in our house and it needed an amazing new chair
but I couldn't find one, and this one was just my size, and so comfortable, but still... I am not blind, and my room is amazing. So, I could pay someone else to recover this free chair or then again why couldn't I do it myself? I am just as capable as the next guy, right! Well...



I was having my doubts


but after this much work I was kind of commited ... or need to be



Have you ever seen a naked chair?

This is it!

But low and behold...

Hours...

Days...

Sweat...

Blood.
(no Emily project would be complete without it.)

Some serious Staples...

Wouldn't this make a neat puzzle

can you find three brass tacks?...


Come on, don't give up so easily!


You would not believe how seriously those stinkin' staples can embed themselves in carpet.

I went over and over that floor with a magnet pincushion grandmother gave me,
I don't know what I would have done without it,
Thanks Grandmother.

Ok, Ok,


I know you're ready...


but this is a blog


I think it deserves a certain amount of


Yadda Yadda Yadda


If you know what I mean,

Ok!


Voila!




Isn't it amazing!


Do a little spin for us




Work It!


I have a whole new respect for Oragami-ists

those folds took HOURS ! ! !


have you forgotten yet?



Yes it really is the same chair

No, Mom you can't have it back,

Neither can you Aunt Kay.


And it's just the right size



Thanks, Mom.

This is scroll work on fondant. It could of course be done in a color or a different style, like up from the bottom more like the picture. also if you have scroll work on your dress we could match the pattern.

More stupid people

Start at the beginning

I wish the world could grasp the idea of being truthful. All abnormality draws some kind of attention. Children stare; seriously though that is so much more honest that adults that try to sneak peaks.

I needed to go and be normal. A place to be loved beyond appearance a place to become comfortable before going "public" with my new hand. No one had seen the amputation and It was out there now no more bandages It was what it is, abnormal. I was getting ready to go to Abilene for a weekend to see my parents and get away. I needed to be alone, get used to it, and learn what it would be like in public around strangers before I dealt with friends. First, however Tim and I were going to have date night and drop off some cookware left from a friend who had brought us dinner.

She answered the door and immediately started a new version of the all familiar "boob glance."
You know back in high school when the guys are really trying to look you in the face but their eyes just can't stay there. It's like you can read their mind:
Stop looking at her boobs,
but they're so nice,
Stop it,
but they're big and round,
Stop she'll notice,
But I really like them
STOP
I want to touch...
NOOOO!!!

That is what this was like, except that the distance from eyes to hand is far greater than from eyes to boob so as she was glancing back and forth at my new finger it was insanely obvious!I wanted to hold it out there and say Just tell me when you're done so you can focus on our conversation but I didn't.

Seriously, what is so hard about saying "can I see it?" Then you can say something sympathetic and avoid looking stupid and I don't feel nearly as much like a freak and everything goes back to normal so much quicker.

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What do you mean by 'ready'

Start at the Beginning

"Are you ready for this?" Tim said as he prepared to unwrap the middle finger. I don' t remember if he had seen it before then or not, but it didn't matter if I was ready so I responded in the affirmative and he unwrapped it.

I think we both quit breathing for a moment. I left the bathroom and moved to our bed as the tears came. This 'new' flesh we had spent the last 3 weeks grafting stood literally 3/4 of an inch above my actual finger in a mangled mess of finger, graft, pin, stitches, ointment, blood, and scabs. Tim held me for a moment and Dr. Barry's words began to haunt me; Would it have been better just to have let them take it off in the ER? After Bandaging it again we moved on.

I laid down on the bed and pulled tape from the incision at my breast as Tim got the next bandage ready. I felt of the stitches. That can't be right. I thought my emotion building to panic. They take children from incisions smaller than this!

I felt sad, defeated, and stupid. I began our nightly Harry Potter reading glad to lose myself somewhere else for a moment.

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looking at a hand

Start at the beginning

One takes for granted that they will always have ten fingers and toes if they are born with them.

After surgery it was the first dead on view. This was my 'new' hand and would have to become regular. I had prepared my self a lot for what it would look like and Tim had taken pictures to show me what was happening through out the graft process, so I had an idea. We even sent one of the pics along with "ode to a finger" to Daddy for Halloween - super creepy. The stitches had been removed and it no longer needed a band-aid, it was as well as it would get and out there. Naked. Exposed. It was longer than what I thought it would be, at least something to be glad about. Dr. W, had kept his promise. Still, I wanted to cover it up. I even made it a hat. That didn't last long, it just drew attention. I still couldn't move either finger in the first two joints and not very well in the knuckle. So it felt like it just stuck out there for anyone to look at. I knew it wasn't that bad or noticeable but I still felt exposed.

My middle finger had stitches and so did my boob and it came time, soon after surgery, that we had to change more bandages.

In that I was taken aback.

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