Sunday, October 31, 2010

Punny Stuff

I love puns and plays on words. I probably will have to include some in my next book, which I am intermittently working on. I get a lot from e-mails so thought I would send some your way if you have not seen them already.
One of my favorites was an email about the "family tree" about Vincent Van Gogh, whose name leads to a lot of punnery. A couple of the entries were...
His dizzy aunt...Verti Gogh
The brother who ate prunes...Gotta Gogh
The fruit lover... Man Gogh
The bouncy nephew...Poe Gogh
The magician uncle... Where Diddy Gogh

If that was not enough, how about some punny sayings?

There was once a cross-eyed teacher who couldn't control her pupils.
A grenade thrown into a French kitchen would result in Linoleum Blownapart.
The butcher backed up into the meat grinder and got a little behind in his work.
(great visual)
The short fortune-teller who escaped from prison was a small medium at large.
A boiled egg in the morning is hard to beat.
What do you call a fish with no eyes? A fsh
What is the difference between a miser and a canary? One's a little cheap and the
other is a little cheeper.
Corduroy pillows are making headlines.
It's not that the man did not know how to juggle, he just didn't have the balls to
do it.
When I saw my first strands of gray hair, I thought I'd dye.

OK OK I'm done...for now. I am a real fan of the pun!

Saturday, October 30, 2010

At Least You're Not Bait

For the first time in Jeanne Kraus history, I had a totally free Saturday. The world was ours. George and I made a conscious choice to leave the computers behind and go to the beach.
Before you get scared that I am going to share some pictures of us in thongs and such, we dressed like old people in shorts and shirts and sensible walking shoes. No excessive skin was showing, a fact I am positive that the beach-goers would have appreciated, had they known.
It was a beautiful breezy and cool morning to go out on the fishing pier. There were things flying in the air.
"Look, George," I said. "Those things that people ski from. What are they called?"
"No," said George emphatically. "I can see them. They're kites!" He pointed out a couple of them that were hovering just about the shore line, matching crescent moons.
About five minutes later, we noted that they had moved out into the water, and were indeed parasails and were taking off into the water. One after another dotted the water until we were awed by the spectacle of it. I turned to George.
"They're not kites." I told him.
"I know," he admitted.
There were two sad moments on the pier. Number one, there were absolutely no pelicans. This led to a lively discussion on pelicans and why they were missing. George tried to convince me they fly north for the winter. I wasn't having that. Now I'll be doing pelican research.
The other thing was that we passed this bucket that had water cycling through it and there was a long skinny fish swimming in it. He had a panicked look on his fishface. George informed me that he was "Bait." I wondered what it would be like to just be "Bait."
Do baby baits have a knowledge of where they are heading in this world? Do they pray to come back as something better than bait? How do we get so lucky to be humans and others are just bait? How can anyone say that they have a tough life? At least they're not bait.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

A Day to Remember

Today is a day that will go down in Jeanne Kraus memory. I had the opportunity to speak to a stroke survivors' group. This group, known as the Golden Rule Stroke Survivors' Group, meets at JFK Hospital in Atlantis, Florida, about an hour north of us. I didn't know what to expect from this speaking engagement. But I was strongly drawn to doing it.

We met for lunch in the hospital cafeteria with some members of the group. One out of every two people there had suffered the effects of a stroke. And we were so impressed by their spirit, their attitudes and their humanity. I knew right away that I would not have to tone down my speech content for these people. They were real.

Of course, peeing figured prominently in my speech. That and doctor visits. What is cool is that a stroke does not in any way impair sense of humor and I was able to entertain them for 45 minutes with my particular Jeanne Kraus type of humor. No matter where I go, where I speak, I will always be thinking of my friends at Golden Rule Stroke Survivors'.

Saturday, October 23, 2010


I know it has only been a few weeks but I am finding this daughter-in-law relationship pretty cool indeed. There's a lot of perks no one ever told me about. First of all, a new female friend which is awesome. The fact that she loves my son and lives with him and watches out for his welfare is of course the best. But I think my relationship has more perks than the usual.

First of all, I really love her. Like one of my own. She keeps in touch without me having to ask her to call. She lets me know how things are going. And although Cory is not the best communicator with family, it doesn't matter because she communicates through phone, texting, email, you name it.

She is so smart! She is my computer guru. When I need help on something (daily) she can tell me how to do it. She even can enter my computer screen and work the mouse for me while I put my feet on my desk for a brief nap. How cool is that? And she doesn't make fun of me for my lack of technical knowledge. She is working on my new website right now.

She has already asked me for a list of people who she and Cory should send Xmas cards to. They will probably keel over. He has never sent out cards, always depending on mine to say "Jeanne, George, and Cory!"

Cory and Ashlee have a special relationship that makes me so happy. Both of them light up when they're together. I have never seen him so happy. When your kids are happy, the mom is ecstatic.

Ashlee is someone I can be totally honest with. We are not afraid to tell each other what we like or don't like because there is a lot of trust between us. Except during Scrabble games.

Thursday, October 21, 2010


Writing is basically a solitary habit. When you actually sit down to pound it out, there is no one between you and your computer. But life itself is the food and creative energy that drives our thoughts and emotions. Networking is one of the great gifts given to writers to help them in their quest for the written word.

That's why, when my friend Dennis Chall, contacted me to participate in a day of literary conversation at Florida Atlantic University, I agreed to come and looked forward to it. It was not a time to sell my books but to talk to students who were interested in writing and wanted to learn more about publishing. It was a beautiful day, cool and breezy and we were situated outside in a shady patio area with tables and chairs. College students wandered through and drafted bits of poetry and quotes on chart tablets placed strategically around the tables. I had set up my books, my reviews, some blurbs from my blog and business cards.

Before long I had a table mate. Dr. Sean Kenniff joined me at the table and set up his books, and various advertising items also. Hence the beginning of a great networking experience. Sean has had a very interesting life. First of all, he was one of the people on the first season of Survivor. As a matter of fact, I think he was voted off the island first.

I did not watch Survivor but I knew of Sean from watching TV. As a doctor, he did a health segment on one of the major TV stations for a while. Good looking, affable, and personable, he was quite popular and did a great job on the health segments. As with all good things however, he was written out of the time slot. The network no longer wished to have a health segment. What a shame.

He was devastated by the loss of the program. His personal life suffered in addition. He needed new direction. So, as he said, "I went to live with the cows."
Hence, his new book, "Etre the Cow." It's a parable about life through the life of cows and the whole thought intrigued me. He was going through a personal and professional crisis and poured all his feelings out into this cow story. Well, anyway it is my next read, although it is not for the squeamish. (Think about what happens to cows at the end and you will get my drift.)

His book was recommended by Jane Goodall and in an unusual twist, Archbishop Desmond Tutu. The story behind the latter recommendation is a hoot, told by Sean. He had been trying to get in touch with Desmond Tutu for quite some time and had not been able to connect. So, one day, one of his friends was at a sports event and called Sean, telling him that he was sitting right near Desmond Tutu at the game in Miami. Sean grabbed a copy of his book, sped to Miami, and got to the game, only to be turned away without a ticket. He was not going to give up. He went around to the back and somehow found a way in. He was stopped by some guards but managed to get the book to Desmond Tutu finally. Wow! What perseverance!

So, in addition to all this, he is a neurologist, and he actually works with veterans right now. His story was so interesting that I never once thought of asking him why I have these frickin' headaches all the time.

So we traded books and I will be reading "Etre" this weekend. Not sure if he will read "Wrinkles, Waistlines and Wet Pants" but perhaps....My thoughts don't go quite as deep as his do!

The story behind the stories is fascinating to me. I always like author bios to determine why they write what they do. I think we are going to be seeing more of Dr. Sean Kenniff.

Monday, October 18, 2010

Another Fun-Filled Day

Assuming you have read any of my posts, and noted that at times my life, as my friend Matt commented, is a "mess," then today's post won't disappoint you. As you may recall I had a week where I was inundated with a kidney stone, a klutzy fall on our tile floor (the day of my son's wedding) and a hastily put together, but beautiful wedding. The kidney stone was blasted from my being last week and I have been feeling pretty good. This weekend however, things started to go downhill. I started having, to put it delicately, urinary urgency, pain, and my personal internal faucet slowed down to a drip-drip-drip.
This morning I contemplated going to the doctor, fearing a new infection. For the second time in 20 minutes, I headed to the bathroom. Lo and behold! The drip-drip-drip became a gusher! I heard strains of the Hallelujah Chorus and all was well with the world. Evidently a big hunk of kidney stone is now down in our plumbing somewhere.
George took me to the medical center for new x-rays. The young man who took the x-rays for me last week was there again. He recognized me.
"You're the one with the rods in her back."
You would think I was the only person who ever had steel rods in her back. But we get along good. We are forming a nice friendship now. As I got ready to leave I asked him if I could borrow the gown (open in back) for our upcoming Character Parade at school next week. I promised to bring it back.
He looked concerned. "I am not supposed to let you do that. I could lose my job."
He looked around. "Don't you have a bag you could put it in?"
Well, I did not so I stuffed it in the front of my pants. He looked at me critically and said, "Looks good to me."
I viewed myself in the mirror. I looked like a 60 year old pregnant woman. "Are you kidding? Is this what I looked like when I came in? How can you say it looks fine?"
We argued all the way out. He did point out that if I want the gown, I should be happy with how it looks. We got to where George was in the waiting room and I pointed at my new friend. "He knocked me up back there."
Now I have to figure out what else I need to get for the character. I have an x-ray. He didn't have one of those little hats you wear in surgery.

Saturday, October 16, 2010

Panties Again

I know that many of you think that I am way too interested in underwear and you may be right but let's face it. It is an interesting topic. Companies make a fortune on the underwear idiosyncracies of the buying public. It's a part of our culture.

A recent article I read capitalized on this interest by discussing the fact that many women go pantyless. Now that is nothing new. According to her, Cleopatra herself chose to wear nothing below her Queenlike robes. I am not sure I believe that.

First of all, didn't they wear figleaves or something like that during that time?
Secondly, how would anyone know? Did she wear those shiny patent leather sandals that show what is going on in your personal female parts? I would have to do some extensive research on Cleopatra to determine that fact, assuming that her underwear habits are covered. No pun intended.

The author goes on to talk about many famous people "going commando" under their clothing. Of course there are the famous instances of papparazzi shots of women who expose their innermost secrets as they emerge from their limos. Like I really want to see that.

In between my first and second marriage, my friend and I who went to many singles' dances to get out in the world, heard that you felt more sexy when you went without underwear. So we would head to the ladies' room, peel off our undies and stuff them in our purses. It was true. We did feel more naughty. And it eliminated pantylines. Not that it got us any more action. But it was a little uncomfortable at times.

Friend: Did you take them off?
Me: Yup. I'm feeling the breeze.
Friend: How do you feel?
Me: Sexy and slutty. It is really amazing.
Friend: I'll be right back. I'm doing it too.

Later on that evening, we meet up...

Me: How's it going?
Friend: I put them back on. I felt too naked.
Me: Me, too. And there is nobody good here I want to waste my nakedness on.

But we tried. An interesting thing about no panties is that you still get wedgies. Not my most attractive moment.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

What's New?

What's New in our house is that the A/C has not worked for 3 days. It could be worse. There has been a coolness in the area but still it is south Florida. The humidity alone has probably plumped out all my wrinkles. So a benefit to add to the sweating.

Today is an important day for my husband, George. It is "Be Bald and Be Free Day." Of course, he celebrates this one day in and day out since at least I met him 16 or so years ago. Oh he still has hair around the sides of his head. But he is bald on top.To other men who have joined the ranks of the rug-wearers, I say "Throw your toupee up up and away. Live freely and hairlessly!"

There are a couple of important holidays for tomorrow I want you to get ready for. Tomorrow is National Boss's Day. If you want to keep your job, remember this one because if you don't everyone else will and you will look bad.

It is also the International Day of Rural Women. I am relieved to hear that. I am tired of all the city women being featured in magazines. Let's get some women in overalls and aprons and housedresses, collecting eggs and shoveling manure. Equal time for them.

Two more things. It will be National Mammography Day. Make sure you have had yours. I did a couple months ago. My girls are safe and happy for another year.

And it is National Grouch Day. Get it over with in one day and don't foist your attitude on us the rest of the year. For those of you, who seem to think every day is National Grouch Day, it is not. Get over it. Go back in your cave until next October 15th.

The only other things occupying my mind is what book character to be in our annual character parade at school. I need to portray a children's book character. Now that is a tantalizing problem.

Sunday, October 10, 2010


As a writer/author, I guess I strive for recognition. The knowledge that someone has read my work and thought about it, maybe even liked it, is the tantalizing reward for hours of looking for just the right way to say what I am feeling. Today was my reward.
I stood in line for 45 minutes to buy some CLEARANCE merchandise at a department store that is closing. The salesgirl was overwhelmed, the line was long, and she was so incredibly slow-paced that I was glad my will was up to date. I might not have made it through the line, which would mean that I would not be purchasing my sale items anyway.
I was wearing my "Annie's Plan" t-shirt. (Annie's Plan is my second children's book that I wrote for Magination Press. I put the cover of the book on a t-shirt to advertise.) Today I was not really advertising. I was wearing the shirt because I had just done a rather ineffective workout with my trainer and I still had the sweaty shirt and pants on. Hardly something to be proud of.
As I stood at the front of the line, seriously wondering if I should leap over the counter and take over for the poor clerk, a little girl behind me asked in a loud voice:
"Did you write Annie's Plan?"
I nodded and smiled. Her brother came forward.
"Our teachers read that book to us. We love that book."
My back ceased aching, I stood up straighter and everyone around me smiled. I had fans!
They were looking at me like I was a mega-star. Justin Bieber had nothing on me at that minute. I scrabbled through my purse, and found 2 of my business cards with my books pictured on them and handed them to the kids. They gushed. And then...
"Could you sign them for us?"
For a big-time author, this moment might mean very little. But it meant the world to me.

Saturday, October 9, 2010

Limited Vision

There's something wrong with my eyes. Well, actually, that is nothing new. I have very poor vision in one eye and 20/20 in the other. If I lose the sight in my good eye, I will be on the street corner with a tin cup selling pencils for a living. With my wiener dog guiding me around. But I am not talking about real vision. I am talking about perception.
I have never been in fashion. Even way back in 6th grade, I could not get with the fashion program, as so many of the girls were able to do. I remember a hot pink A-line knitted skirt (just below the knee) that I wore with a cream-colored blouse with roll-up sleeves. I thought it was the coolest thing around. My sister says she still has nightmares about that outfit being worn day in and day out.
I haven't changed much. As a young person, during the 60s and the 70s when bell-bottoms came into fashion, I hated them. Absolutely hated them. Would not wear them. By the time that bell bottoms were no longer in fashion, I found a pair on the CLEARANCE rack and tried them. Guess what? They were pretty decent. The fad had died but Jeanne Kraus alone would wear them as a fashion statement.
Now that bell bottoms have resurfaced, I hate them again. I don't know what happened to the fashion part of my brain, but I don't get it. Friends are stylish. They buy the "right" brands, whatever they are. All of my favorite brands are labeled "CLEARANCE."
I guess it all came to light the day I was shopping in J.C. Penney's one day. I found a dress that I liked and after trying it on, and thinking that I looked hot in it, headed to the register to pay for it. A little old lady in a walker came by and nicely commented on my choice. "Dear, that is a great dress for you. It will flatter your figure so nicely."
"Thank you." I smiled at her. She reminded me of my late grandmother, probably about 80 years old.
Then she hit me with a bombshell. "I have the same dress at home."
Yes, it was true. I had picked out an old lady dress. What's more, I thought it looked great on me. What's with those mirrors in the dressing rooms?
Perhaps relying on CLEARANCE as my clothing label has its pitfalls. But as long as nobody tells me I'm out of style, I'll be okay.

Thursday, October 7, 2010


Well once again I can't sleep so don't read this with a really critical eye. It may not make sense. It may have a row of zzzzzzzzzz's across it that I miss when I edit. It may be in a heretofore unknown language. If it is coherent, that is better than most of my ramblings.
When the kidney stone blasted from my body, and I will assume for now that it really did and it is not some giant hoax perpetrated on Jeanne Kraus, it must have taken away my ability to sleep. All I do is drink and pee. Then I stare into the toilet, which is black, and try to see if I have peed a kidney shrapnel. They did not give me a little strainer so I am left wondering if the gravel and grit is indeed leaving me or traveling to a more funky area of my body.
I read an article at the waiting room though that I wanted to share with you. Equality has now hit the auto safety industry and they are now using female crash dummies. This is probably what is keeping me awake. How can they use female dummies? First of all, men have been pretty appropriate, because no matter what you build they are pretty much the same. They can measure the extent of their injuries by checking their brain and looking for evidence of damage to the TV-watching area, the testosterone level, and the fact that if the dummy had been looking where it was going it would not be sitting there decapitated. Also, the dummy's inability to ask for directions probably would have cut back on the number of accidents. Researchers, realizing this inequity, have now turned to women.
Women, being insightful and able to multi-task will find that their dummies' results will be skewed. Will there be make-up and hair brushes provided for the dummies who are not quite ready when they get in the car? Will there be low maintenance dummies like me who won't have to have that issue? Will the cup sizes be different on the dummies' bras to add absorbency impact?
And what about dummies who have resorted to plastic surgery? Do we need to know how that affects their liposuction, or their nose job?
Will the crash dummies revert to their wild state and look immediately for any male crash dummy for help? How will this work? I can't imagine. I thinking that these experts have a lot more work to do before unleashing these women dummies on the world!
One more thing...will they all be blonde?

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

The Laser in the Stone

Well, it is pretty mysterious. The procedure was done at 8:30 this A.M. I of course have no notice of being blasted. The things I do remember are:
One surgeon who came through, clustered into a bevy of boomer humor type nurses, told stories of his bad headache and not feeling entirely well. I was glad he was not my doctor but he was very cute, kind of had that Mark Harmon look going on there. Chick magnet.
Another thing I noticed was that this Surgical Center is not going to be in the news any time soon for operating on the wrong side. They kept asking me which kidney it was and then I started to worry about myself. I told them to look on the chart if they were concerned but they wanted my professional opinion, an opinion, heavily drugged at the time.
I tried my best Boomer Humor on my nurse but she was totally professional, not one of the ones hanging all over Dr. Cutie. Damn.
Well we got home 3 hours later and I feel fine. I laid down just in case but could not go to sleep. I still can't go to sleep as a matter of fact. Hopefully they actually removed the kidney and didn't just sit around and joke about Dr. Cutie, who was supposed to be in another surgery by the way.
I liked the Surgery Center Care, I just wanted to be a little bit more involved with the "in" crowd, just just a horizontal body on a stretcher. Will try harder next time.

Monday, October 4, 2010

Panties Galore

One of the topics I discussed in my book was Underwear and what it says about you. Evidently a lot more people than I find this to be an intriguing subject because there are a lot of commentaries about it. The first item of note I ran across was an article about wedgie-free panties. These panties by Hanes are said to keep your mind free of the distraction of fabric folds in your crack. Better for businesswomen, women on first dates, and women at the altar, about to be married. Who wants a wedgie there? In fact, who wants a groom with a wedgie there?
Perhaps you scoff at a claim for a wedgie-free panty. Well, Hanes has a money back guarantee. (Not sure if they want you to send the panties back.)
Several articles claim that the color of panty you choose tells you what mood you're in. I'm not sure I agree with those claims, but I do agree that wearing no panties sends a definite message.
One of the guests commenting on this article states that he prefers a classic white cotton panty for his girlfriend. It portrays the schoolgirl look and he wisely comments that in a few years her "ass will be flat and saggy" anyway, so why wear thongs that let it all hang out? It always helps to have an insightful guy around to help you plan your wardrobe!

Saturday, October 2, 2010

Urology 101

Well I finally had my first "procedure" with a urologist. A "procedure" is a civilized term for when a doctor inserts a foreign object into one of your orifices that you normally do not have on display for the general viewing public. My nurse was Angela and she had a ton of personality, considering she worked in an office involved with urine. She left the room, for my "privacy" so I could remove my shorts and underwear and sit on the chair with a stirrup on either side. Oh, I knew what those stirrups were for! Despite the time she gave me for privacy, she had a full view of my private parts anyway.
Her prepping job was to put iodine on my nether regions and coat my urethra with a numbing gel. That was her first problem.
"I can't find your urethra," she giggled. "I've never had this problem."
That figured. With the week I had had healthwise, I was not surprised.
I commented, "Don't worry. It's no different than the rest of my week."
Angela looked at me with wide eyes. "You mean someone else couldn't find your urethra either?"
She was cracking me up. "No, that's not it," I explained.
But she continued to talk. "Why was someone else looking for your urethra?" she asked.
I finally got it straightened out but she continued to frown at my private parts." I have to call the doctor in, " she announced. "I can't find your urethra anywhere."
Great. Another problem.
A few minutes later, they both breezed in.
Angela explained again, "I can't find her urethra."
They clustered around my "private" area, both looking intently. The doctor smiled. "Here it is," she announced. "It's kind of hidden and small."
Great news. There is something on me that is small. Wow!
She pointed out my urethra to Angela, who gushed over it as though it were a newborn. "Oh, a baby urethra! It's so little and tiny, just a teeny little hole. It's so cute!"
The doctor pointed out to her that it was not just tiny, but my bladder had dropped and the urethra was tilted. So, another age-related problem. But Angela did not care. She still felt that it was the most precious urethra she had ever seen.
After they both eyeballed my private area intensely for a few minutes, the doctor did the procedure and left the room.
Angela offered to leave to "Give me my privacy" but I declined and got myself dressed. I did not see any reason to have privacy for putting on my clothes when they had seen everything under them anyway. It's a good thing I have no modesty left.

Post Wedding Fun- The Medical Maze

As the bride and groom adjusted to married life, I still had a kidney boulder lodged in my body. I could not live on wedding memories alone. I've always hoped I could go through life without ever consulting a urologist but now I was entering Urology World.
The pain of a kidney stone is akin to an elephant trying to suck a bowling ball up into his trunk. I was ready to blast that sucker out.
The urologist scheduled me for a laser blasting appointment next week. She asked me for the CD from the ER, documenting where the stone was. Alas, they had not given me one. She was surprised. She told me to get an x-ray from the outpatient center and bring that to her along with the CD from the ER.
She gave me a paper to take to the Outpatient Center, which had no appointment needed. Sounded easy. Good thing, because I was not feeling up to par.
At the outpatient desk, a bulldog was running things. Not a canine bulldog but a human woman bulldog. She told me I needed a prescription from my PCP. I offered her the urologist's orders. She won. It was the PCP or nothing.
I had to go home and rest. I called my PCP and made an appointment for the next day. So the next morning we walked into my PCP. He was surprised that an x-ray was needed. But he obligingly wrote a prescription with STAT on it, so that would get me through quickly. A nice touch.
Back to the bulldog. I triumphantly waved my prescription. She looked it over through her thick lenses and said, "There is no diagnosis on here."
I had a whole purse of papers with the diagnosis from that very hospital so I fished them out and flung them at her. No good. Once again we were out in the street. My kidney stone was probably having a good laugh.
I called the PCP. The nurse promised to fax the prescription back over with the diagnosis on it. I rested for a bit and we came back to the now familiar Outpatient Waiting Room. It had taken so long that Bulldog was leaving as we came. She was not at all interested in the fact that I had finally achieved the right to an x-ray.
Another lady called me up to the desk. "We need authorization from your insurance."
I was losing it. "Look I have been here 4 times and each time they keep adding something on. Is there something about me you don't like?"
She called my urologist, not wanting to deal with an unstable person, and they put Angie on the phone. For some reason I could not get authorization for this procedure today at the hospital but I could go to a different place and walk in without an appointment.
Did that sound familiar? So we opted to go there, I called and got directions. We were told to be there before 3. It was 2:10.
We got lost 3 times. Each time I called I got a little more of the directions so that we were getting closer but not there. Finally I handed George the phone and he got the directions in his direct fashion. We arrived at 2:30. I had my x-ray.
Oh, one more thing. As George waited for me in the waiting room my cell phone rang. George answered it. It was the office where we were, asking if we were on our way. They were waiting for us. George had to tell them we were there already and I was already having my x-ray.

Friday, October 1, 2010

Just After the Wetting

The wedding is over. The vows were said, the rose petals were scattered, the sand was poured and the bride was as beautiful as any bride I have ever seen. And the groom, well he could have graced a romance novel cover. Just a few wrinkles occurred.
The rain continued. We opted for Plan B. As Ashlee and Cory arrived at my house to get ready, I tripped over the cat and scraped up both legs, also bruising my ankle severely enough to have to hobble all day. Cory and George went over to Ron and Jeanette's house and Ashlee and I followed later. When we got there we found out that Ron, Cory's Dad, had been taken to the hospital after experiencing severe bleeding from a procedure he had had the week before. So...we were at their house, but they were not there. Cory and Ashlee were in agony. Should they wait? Change their date? It was a lose-lose situation. Finally, a call to Jeanette solved the problem. She told them to get married, everything was ready.
The wedding was beautiful. Their home was a beautiful backdrop for the pictures. Then the wedding party of Cory, Ashlee, George and I headed to the hospital to go to the ER to see her new father in law just out of recovery. Seeing Ashlee striding down the corridor in her gown was a hoot, and she got many a smile and a "Congratulations." My daughter in law has a big heart and she showed it that night.

The Meaning of Stress

I think I have removed five years off of my life this past week. Besides the usual work stresses and bills, obligations, we have added a couple of major issues this past week. First of all, if you have been following my blogs, you know that my son got married this week. We had one weeks' notice.
I have no problem with that. We love Ashlee and Cory. We would do anything to help them out in their beginning of a new life. But a wedding ceremony in one week. Now to be honest, they were just going to go to the courthouse and get married. Parents and their respective spouses only would be there. That was their plan. Then Jeanne (me) opened her big mouth and said, "How about a beach wedding?" They discussed that and decided that since Ashlee would love to go barefoot for her wedding, that it was a go.

They picked out the beach and Ashlee and I shopped for her gown. Not having any girls of my own, that was fun, although Ashlee missed her mom there. Then we shopped in earnest. For a quickly put together wedding, Ashlee knew exactly what she wanted.

So we are prepared for the wedding. The gown is bought, the veil, the sand ceremony items, the flowers ordered, a friend who is a photographer will be there, and the other friend who will conduct the ceremony.
Of course, you know that we are in hurricane season here in Florida. The last few days have been overcast and downright rainy. The chances of rain was 90% for the wedding day. Not good odds. But I was determined to remain positive.
Then on Monday, I awoke with nausea and intense abdomen and back pain. George took me to the ER and I had an unusually large kidney stone, more of a kidney boulder. I was put on pain meds and sent to a urologist for a session of laser blasting. That cannot be done for another week. That is okay because the pain has abated with the pain meds.
Unfortunately I may be pretty loopy at the wedding. If there is a heavy breeze on the beach, I'm going to topple over like a felled Xmas tree. In the sand, covered with rose petals.
So now we have Plan A and Plan B. A of course is the beach and B is at Ron (groom's dad) and Jeanette's house. We won't know until that morning. Aaugh!
Plus, because I don't know how I am going to be feeling, so we are planning on probably canceling our trip to Orlando this weekend.
Stay tuned!