I need a wife.........

This was the conclusion I came to at 10:30 last night, when I finally collapsed after a very long, very rough day.

Now, before any of you panic and assume I mean I literally need a wife, let me explain. What I really need is a little more help. But since some people (who shall remain nameless to protect their laziness) seem to think that's what a wife is for, I guess I need one of my own if I expect to get any help around here.

I had done 7 loads of laundry (most of it not even mine!), wrote two obituaries and a story for the paper I write for, and managed to entertain my very boisterous 2-1/2 year old (who incidentally no longer takes naps) all at the same time. While I admit I'm a great multi-tasker, this was a bit much, even for me. So if you know anyone who's up for the job of wife, please, send them my way!

Later, alligator!

So this is one of our rare weekends without Connor. He currently is having a mini-vacation at his grandma's house while Isaak and I have some much-needed adult time. This is only the second time since Connor has been born that we've done this. The last time was in October, and when I left my son at my mom's, I think I cried for the entire 1-1/2 hour drive home. I knew he was in good hands, and I was happy to have the break, but I missed the little bugger. Needless to say, he didn't really miss me. He was so busy for 2 days that he could have cared less where mommy or daddy were or what we were doing. :)

So this time, I'd made up my mind that I wasn't going to cry. I also decided I wasn't going to sneak off without telling him I was leaving like I did the last time. So I told him it was time to tell mommy goodbye, that I was leaving and would see him later. He refused to come. It was only after I reminded him that he was staying and I was leaving that he happily bolted across the room and hugged me and said "bye mommy." Then he ran off to play. HUMPH! He wasn't even going to miss me! He was glad I was leaving and he was staying! While I was sort of offended that he was so happy I was leaving, it did make it much easier to go this time.

Think before you speak.......

I was reading a book on taming temper tantrums (in toddlers, not adults!) and came across a sentence that stopped me in my tracks: It takes five words of praise to cancel one single word of criticism.

It got me to thinking just how true that statement is. I know in my lifetime, the things that I remember most that people have said to me have not been the kind words, but the unkind ones. I have found that to be especially true in my marriage. I find myself holding past comments from Isaak against him sometimes months or years after he has said them. I think that is true for most people. It's a lot easier to believe something bad about yourself than something good. That's just human nature. And while we may forgive that person for saying it, we have a harder time forgetting it. It's also a lot easier to say something bad than it is to say something nice to someone. And for me, once that bad thing is said, I have a hard time forgetting it, no matter how many words of praise may follow. It's just one more reminder that we should all think before we speak, and ask ourselves if we really want to say something negative. No matter what that sentence above says, sometimes five words or praise are not enough to cancel out one critical statement.

Get this book!

I have some good news to share with all of you. An old friend of mine informed me this morning that he has gotten one of his books published! He has been working toward this goal for years, so congratulations to him!

I promised him I'd share the link to his book's website, so here it is: www.pagesofwonder.com/struzzi

His book is called The Christmas Secret. The book also will be available through Amazon.com and Barnes and Noble.com starting next Monday. So check it out and help support a local author!

My inner conflict......

I must admit that I am very conflicted about war, including our current war in Iraq. I have friends who have served (and been seriously injured) in Iraq and Afghanistan, so that makes me a little upset about us being there. But I also have a few good friends who are Iraqis and who support the war, so it puts me in a tough spot. Most days, I'm not sure how I feel about it, so I usually just keep my mouth shut.

But one thing I know as of 10 minutes ago is that I'm angry. I just found out (see the link in my title) that prostate cancer has been linked to Agent Orange exposure. For those of you who don't know (or are too young to remember), Agent Orange was a chemical used during the Vietnam War by our own country. Sad part is, when it was dumped on the Vietnamese, it also was dumped on the soldiers we had there fighting the war. Many have died from diseases caused by that exposure. My dad served in Vietnam and has had two guys from his squad die in the last couple of years from that exposure. We just found out today that my dad's prostate cancer very well could have been caused by his exposure to the chemical. When we were at the VA Hospital yesterday for his consultation on how to deal with the cancer, he was asked to be tested for Agent Orange exposure. Apparently, heart disease also is a side effect of the chemical. My dad has that, too. Our government will provide added monetary benefits to anyone who is eligible, but how is that a great thing when these people are facing diseases that can't be cured thanks to the stupidity and bravado of our own government. 30+ years ago? It just makes me sick to my stomach, and doesn't one bit help my inner conflict over the whole idea of war.

Doctors don't know everything.......

I sat this morning and listened to a doctor very bluntly tell my dad he most likely had 10 years to live. I really had to fight the urge to kick the man once the words left his mouth, because it angered me that he could be so sure of something he has no control over.

My dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer a few weeks ago. Today was his consult with the specialist at the VA Hospital who is in charge of helping him decide treatment options. The good news is, my dad's cancer apparently isn't at a stage where they prefer to do anything with it. So the course of action for it is to redo the biopsy in 6 months and see if it has spread or become more aggressive in any way. If it has, there are many treatment options.

However, the doctor was very quick to tell my dad----who also has had bypass surgery and stents puts in his heart to help alleviate blockage---that because of his heart condition, they had to seriously weigh treating the cancer at all, even if it advanced.

"With patients like you, the cancer isn't what's going to kill you. You're probably going to die in 10-12 years from your heart. In fact, I'd say likely 10 years." Those were his exact words. I know, I was taking notes, and my inner reporter never misquotes anyone. I was stunned.....and quite frankly......ANGRY AS HELL.

How dare this man tell my dad he only had 10 years left? Last time I checked, there was only one person who had control over that, and I'm fairly sure he doesn't wear a lab coat or work at the hospital.

Not being one to ever hold my tongue (which can be a bad thing and a good thing sometimes), I spoke right up. I asked the doctor if he really thought it was up to him when my dad died. He looked baffled for a moment at my question, so I helped him out. I told him only God knows the beginning and end for all of us, and it was highly irresponsible for him to think he had any say in it, let alone upset a patient by making such predictions. He just laughed and said he supposed I was right.

Honestly, I'd like to see my dad live to be 100, just to teach that darn doctor a lesson. Who knows? Maybe he will, God willing.

Does this fur make my bum look fat?

So, my cat, Gabriel, is on a diet. He has been since December. The little porker has gone from weighing a mere 8 pounds when we adopted him 4 years ago, to weighing a hefty 16 in December. No matter what I do, that darn cat just keeps packing on the pounds. I've restricted his food to the point that he's complained to the local chapter of the cat union that I'm starving him. That didn't work. I've played cat games with him, which isn't exactly easy. Have YOU ever tried to get a cat to exercise? It's like asking a dog not to eat his own poop. It's statistically impossible. But I try because I don't want Gabe to end up with all sorts of health problems as he gets older. Still, nothing has worked.

So my vet had another idea. Apparently, the new line of thinking of veterinarians is that cats----especially lazy indoor ones like mine-------eat only wet cat food. Dry cat food has too many carbs, and lazy cats like mine can't process them properly, leading to weight gain. It's called the Catkins Diet. Seriously. I know, I know. I laughed my butt off when the vet referred to it as this, because I never thought I'd see the day cats would have their own version of the Atkins diet. So I started him on canned cat food, feeding him only enough to make a 12 pound cat happy---which is his goal weight. Needless to say, after nearly 4 months of this, Gabe has gained another pound. :(

At this point, I'm ready to try my own kind of diet. I call it The Connor Berg Weight Loss Plan. It involves putting Gabe and Connor in our spare room (which has no furniture---hence no place for Gabe to hide) and letting Connor chase him until he loses at least 3 pounds. At this point, it couldn't hurt!

Because God *does* have a sense of humor......

While I was searching for a bank statement, I came across my old journal from a Creative Writing course I took in college. I was thumbing through it when I found the following entry. I just had to share it, because it made me laugh out loud. Apparently, I used to have quite the sense of humor.


The only thing he ever wanted in life was to be perfect.
No matter how hard he tried, he never succeeded in life.
Each night he asked God to make him an image of perfection and success.
One morning, he awakened to find that his prayers had been answered.
He was now a woman..........