So, my mother is in the nursing home with Medicare about to run out. My father wants to take her home. Then my sister announces that she is going out of town for 9 days to take my neice to Colorado. Nine days? What is she going to do, take her first semester classes with her?  My husband says that his aunt, who's behavior my sister is replicating, used to do the same thing; leave town with very little notice. Don't people take their kids in late Aug.? Actually, people at my husband's work says that this is actually late to register for classes. Couldn't they do that online? Can't these people do anything in this state?  My mother was to go home on Friday. She wanted me to help them. Sure, no problem. My sister was complaining that she 'had' to go to the nursing home on Monday when they had some sort of meeting to see if they would recommend to Medicare that my mother stay on. They weren't going to because she wasn't progressing enough in physical therapy to justify it. I've never seen anyone kicked out of PT for not doing well, but I've seen people get more PT for not doing well. I told her that I asked my father over and over if I should go because I caught up with work at the moment and we didn't have anywhere we had to go. He told me no. "Does that sound fair", she said in her best preachy voice. Fair or not, that's what happened. Like my husband says, what does she want me to do about it?"  "I had to cancel my clients. That means I don't get paid". I can't believe anyone would pay her anyway. We looked up the website and the line of bull that's on it about her is going to make a heck of a post.

She said something like, "I did such and such, now it's your turn". Then she hung up. I do not tolerate being treated like that. I called her up, and like my father always points out, her cell phone or the phone at their house is always answered by a machine. It's been years and years years. So, I left her a message that said that it sounded like she hung up on me, and if she did, please don't do that again. For once I sounded firm with her.

I then got on the phone for something else. She left me a phone message for which guilt-inducing Catholic nuns and priests could use as a training film. I tried so hard to get it on a hosting site and put a link to it. I want so bad for people to hear what she sounds like because you simply wouldn't believe it. If you want, e-mail me at JSanto7134@aol.com and I will send you the file because that might work. She told me that I should be ashamed of myself and my lifestyle and how I treat my family. She told me that what I am doing justifies her taking control of the whole situation. She said that if my father took her home, she would use all her money to sue him.

Well, needless to say I was a little mad. I could no longer take the punitive, condesending tone. I left her three breathless messages (happens when I get REALLY STEAMED!). I mentioned the cruises, the Catholic elementary school for two kids. I told her that she could be Al Haig and be in charge of the whole world if she wanted to, but I am never speaking to her again. I also mentioned that if she was the perfect daughter, why did she only stay 45 min. on what was obviously going to be mom's last Christmas when she was somewhat coherent. She tried calling, Craig, whose birthday she blew off, a topic for another post) answered and said, "This is the downstairs butler, Madam' cannot come to phone right now. I'm sorry, but if you want to leave a message for her, we have a special line for biatches". I helped him with the butler part, but I swear he made up the last part all by himself . A chip off the old block. She tried again and he answered in an accent, "You have reached the Budhist Temple..." That was entirely his. Then I blocked her e-mail address.  I made an outgoing message for the answering machine. "Today my dear sister infomed me that I should be ashamed of my behavior and my lifestyle (said in a shame-on-me- tone). Pause....

I'M BRITNEY SPEARS!  And I didn't even know it! So, naturally I'm out clubbing. Then I'm going to buy something really expensive for my dog. And these nails!..If you can think up anything suggestions, please leave them after the beep. And if my downstairs maid doesn't give me the message pronto, she is totally fired......because I might be Donald Trump too!

Then I arranged for our phone company to be switched to Comcast the following Monday because they can block calls from specific numbers and that service isn't available in our area from our then provider.

Friday came and my husband was going to help us move my mom. Then my father called unexpectedly and told me that Medicare had approved another two weeks. He was really happy. Do you think it's a coincidence that my pesty, demanding, accusatory sister was going to blow town and suddenly they decided not to kick my mother out?  I wasn't going to cover for her/hide it any longer. I told my father everything; about how she was going to sue him and everything she said. I went on Friday as usual and the unit director was especially nice to me. I was sure that my sister told them that I'm a derelict daughter, but they have had to deal with her. They know.

I'm the guest blogger. I know I might have told you this and I know school's out and that Earth Day was a while back but here it goes:

I asked the science teacher a question and went to my desk. (We were doing a project about Earth Day.) On the way , that boy my friend likes followed me back to my desk. Usually when people do that to me, they insult me. So I said " He's harassing me!" Later I realized he might not have been doing that... or was he? Well,I never figured out why he followed me. So I read a book. And he came back and said "Stop harassing me!" Okay first of all, I said "He's harassing me" not "Stop harassing me". Second, he was trying to get back at me and I just happened to be reading. But from the teacher point of view, he was bothering me while I was reading. So he got in trouble.

                                 I just love happy endings... but not with soy sauce, it tastes terrible with soy sauce.

So, here we are in the present. A few weeks  before the blowup, my father mentioned that my neice was going to college in Colorado. I was really surprised. I hadn't heard anything. Her brother is studying 'sports journalism' in a neighboring state school that is really recognized at being great for this field. I mentioned in an e-mail to my sister that I heard her daughter was going to Colorado. She didn't comment on that. As a side light, my sister has the most amazing e-mail. It mysteriously stops working when it's convenient for her, and --how did you know? It starts working equally mysteriously when she wants it. Sign me up! We tried to speculate what someone would go halfway across the country to an out-of-state school in Co., that they couldn't study here. Snow boarding instructor was all I could come up with. Finally, I asked my sister and to my utter astonishment she tells me that she hasn't decided yet---she's going to study liberal arts. Enough said. We hope she stays away from Gary Barnett and his womanizing football players.

In which I discuss finances and how things got to be the way they are. I can't explain why, but I can tell how, so I will.
I don't remember the details of the brief exchange that preceded the comment, but I caught my son's eye and said, "You know, Aunt Pacific Princess* got much better grades than I did. I do, however, remember the way he stopped in his tracks and did a double take. I honestly didn't expect that strong of a reaction. I must have been telling him that doing well in school doesn't necessarily seal your fate. I would think it would. Today I told my kids that great grades are wonderful, but you have to have some ambition beyond high school. My sister had it all, all throughout school. She had better looks than I did. She was very popular and her teachers loved her. She actually opened many doors for me just by having the last name as mine. Although I finally figured out how to get great grades by the end of high school, I wasn't in the National Honor Society. Come to think of it, I'm not really sure how much math/science my sister took beyond the requirements, but still, she always did great.

I've been waiting for her to throw this back at me. I got to go to nursing school, but she did not get to go to college. Nursing school is very practical;one can always find a job and everybody knows that. My sister wanted to study acting and my parents said, "no way". She was going to go to a secretarial school, but she took a test at my mother's old employer, the old Amoco Oil. She was one of the very few who passed the test right out of high school, so she skipped secretarial school (Robert Morris). You know that back then, secretaries could advance to some pretty good  positions and that she did. She was unhappy there, although she did have some really good friends. Boy oh boy could she sneak out of there like nobody's business. She waited until she was vested at ten years and then quit. It's probably a good thing because everybody knows that oil companies in the u.s. are practically bankrupt. HaHa.

During her time working in downtown Chicago, she was very generous to me. She would often bring me a box of Godiva chocolate. The thing is, that Godiva chocolates are incredibly, incredibly expensive. Sometimes if I would no do or feel the way she wanted me to, she would hold it over my head that she gave me things. Later on, when she had kids, she got a job as a teaching assistant at their school. Then because she hung around a gym and is fitness obsessed, someone told her that she should study to become a personal trainer. She is still doing that. Awhile ago, my mother, who was coherent at the time, told me that she had quit because she got into a fight with her boss. Don't know if this is the same place or not. When she got married, the trips continued. Her husband is a type of cameraman who worked for a small firm before the owner pulled the plug. Now I think he works freelance. She was always going with him to a shoot somewhere. When she was pregnant, she asked to borrow some of my clothes for a trip to Florida because she was gaining so much weight. I was 5'2", 107 lbs for goodness sakes. Her kids were on planes  before they could walk. I went to California when I was inbetween jobs in 1988. My company sent me to San Antonio and Denver, and St. Louis. We honeymooned in Arizona. The next year we went to Disney World because Joe had a convention there. We went to Galena, IL (same state) and stayed in a cabin for a week two years in a row. I've gone to a neighboring state with my son to attend a bell-ringing ceremony for the last two years. That is it for my whole adult life.  She also traveled to Boston more than once to run the marathon, and Las Vegas because it's an easy qualifier for Boston.

Speaking of Boston, her daughter developed a heart arrhythmia several years ago. She says she owes in the double digits of medical bills. All those cruises? If she is so tight with her church, why didn't they have a benefit dinner? Also, Children's Memorial, the University of Chicago, etc. were not good enough for her. She had to take her to Boston. Even now, she said they had to go back for a re-check. For conduction disturbances, can't she at least follow-up with someone here or transport a tracing electronically? They have remote checks for rural people all the time. Also, even when the girl was allegedly (remember my sister exaggerates) so critical, it seemed like she was still playing softball, etc. Why would you take a chance of  her getting hit? Also, to give you a better view of my sister's personality, she insists on calling doctors by their first names. I, on the other hand, have trouble calling doctors by their first name even if they are friends/colleagues. Sure, there are plenty of quacks, but I have a tremendous amount of respect for most of them.

*I'll call her Pacific Princess because she simply  had to go on that thing all the time because she liked watching The Love Boat, don't you know.

My sister continued with her typical modus operandi...she gets worked up into a frenzy and then lies low for awhile. Then my father got word that my mother's Medicare was running out. Again, a product of the depression era, and having the general knowledge that the nursing home industry is notorious for draining  bank accounts, he considered his options. Again the angry call from my sister. She ranted on and on about "THAT man!" She actually said that if my father tried to take my mother back home, she would take him to court and sue him. Isn't that nice? The man who adopted her and worked like a dog to support her.

Did I mention that she's only my half sister? Yes, it's true. I don't know her real father's name, so I will refer to him as "Baby Daddy". I didn't even learn about this until I was about 21. It all came out when my sister was going to get married. I was really surprised, but this was a bit before the time when everybody got divorced. My mother was married to Baby Daddy and apparently he was cheating on her. She would not talk about it, but she did not seem happy. So, my mother and Baby Daddy's daughter were living alone and my sister was in daycare (which really didn't exist back then). My mother worked for a lawyer and he and his wife had a barbecue to introduce her to my future father, who was a client settling his parents estate. The rest is history. My father adopted Baby Daddy's daughter when she was four (I know this is confusing, but I just like calling her "Baby Daddy's daughter. I'll stop.) My sister was four when my father adopted her. Apparently, Baby Daddy never looked back. This is the weird part. My parents never intended for her to think that my father was not her real father. She was four after all; who would even consider that option? Somehow she did forget that my father was not her real father. Who knows? Maybe Baby Daddy wasn't exactly around a lot? Maybe I can get some 411 about Baby Daddy out of my dad now. They still meant to tell her when she got older. They just couldn't bring themselves to do it. Teenage years are rough enough after all....although my sister's weren't. When she did find out, she took it well. She actually took it better than I did!  With what little angst she had growing up, she managed to say stuff like, "I'm the black sheep of the family", "You're not my real dad", etc.

When she found out he really wasn't her dad, she loved him even more because even though she said such things, he never ever treated her like she wasn't his real daughter. Well that lasted kinda long, but not forever.

And I Start Hanging Out In Cemeteries...

Why it is strange (for me, not for normal people).

1. I haven't been to a cemetery in over a decade. When I was a kid, every Memorial Day we would take a LONG drive to a cemetery to put flowers on my father's parents' grave/

2. I'm not religious.

How It Possibly Came to Be:

1. I became obsessed with the Speck murders. I was about two and lived in the neighborhood when it happened so I grew up hearing about it. About a year ago I heard the authors of "The Crime of the Century" on a radio talk show. I bought the book.  If I could go back in history and change just ONE thing......

2. I heard about www.FindAGrave.com  on a radio talk show program I think. It's kind of fun to browse. They have famous and not famous people.  People also request photos. You can look up requests based on a cemetery search or based on your zip code.

3. I am fascinated by stories of paranormal experiences, so you never know.

So me and my kids, clad in "Find-A-Grave" t-shirts, set off for Holy Cross Cemetery in Calumet City, which happens to be about 10 min. away from where my mom is. I did not know what to expect and I was really nervous. We went to the office because only a few of the photo requests had specific location information. I didn't even know if they would give such info out or if they would get perturbed because I had a long list. They actually have a touch screen with databases for that and other Catholic cemeteries. I looked up all our info and we headed out to a 'section'. Unfortunately, that's all we had to go by and the sections are pretty big; maybe half of  a city block. Back to the office. The people were unexpectedly nice; printing off a sheet for each of our requests and marking out little maps with an 'x' after pinpointing each location in a huge book of detailed maps. He even recognized the name of the Speck murder victim, Gloria Davy, who is buried there. There are already photos of her grave on the site but I wanted to visit it for personal reasons.

Again unfortunately, it was super, super hard to find these people. We spent about two hours. We only found about four of the 12 people. For awhile it looked like we might not find any of them. Now I am super pumped. it's like a puzzle trying to find these people. It's also strangely gratifying to fulfill requests for people. I didn't even find Gloria Davy's grave, which was hugely disappointing. The Find-A-Grave site is truly fabulous though. It notifies people when requests are fulfilled and it even has a button to report problems, like the one name that was not on their database.  

Then we went to see my mother, who happened to not be having a good day. Lucky for me, my sister has skipped town so I don't have to deal with her. More on her later.

Ok, so fast forward to spring. My mother is still going downhill and is put into the hospital.  My sister went with to the emergency room. When she described the events, it sounded like my father was really stressed out and losing it. When I talked to him, he was surprisingly upbeat and all the more 'with it'. I went to see her the next day or so and it was really scarry. She couldn't sit up or feed herself. She did not want to eat. The physical therapy evaluation was pretty bad. But of course, if they got her to the point where she could walk, where would she go? Would she wander out of the house or turn the stove on? My father was so affectionate and attentive. One staff member called them 'love birds'.

My sister happened to be there when her doctor came to see her. My sister revealed (if it's true because who can believe a word she says) that when she was around 17, my mother showed her where some sleeping pills were. She allegedly told her that if she ever got to be in the shape my grandfather was in, that she should feed her the pills. She says that my mother wouldn't let her leave the room until she agreed.  The time seems a bit early chronologically, but again, I don't think we can believe much of what she says. In addition to her current state, she has been a legendary exaggerator since her fist day of  h.s. when she came home with overblown impersonations of her teachers.

So, to shorten the tale, my sister says that the doctor agrees that it's not a good idea to try to keep her alive by artificial means. Getting her to eat anything was only accomplished with great effort on my father's part. The hospital staff could not get her to eat at all (surprise). The decision is made not to insert a feeding tube. Let me repeat that it was always my mother's fear that she would end up like this. My mother, not a glamorous beauty, would always get very flustered if someone came to the door when her hair was not fixed or her makeup was not on. She lived in fear that we would see her without her dentures. When I think of how we and the world see her now....I shudder.

If my sister is telling the truth, it must be just awful for her to go through life knowing that she did not fulfill my mother's final wish. Glad I'm not in her shoes. In sooooo many ways.  I really hate to admit it, but my mother is in a locked Alzheimer's unit.  I honestly, truthfully, confess it right here.  The first time I passed through that door, I thought, "Wow, someone in my family is on a locked unit   AND IT ISN'T ME!! Who would have *thunk* it? AND, while we're on the subject, considering my sister, I'm not the most whacked out member of the family.  Again I ask you, would have thunk it? More on...MUCH MORE ON my sister's mental health is to come. The first time that I recognized that something truly was wrong.....I speculate on what disorder(s) she actually has...

So, my sister starts complaining about my father like he's a criminal. She got my aunt in on it too. Now my sister isn't talking to her either. Thank goodness. The last think I'd want would be her calling all the time. She's 81 and  lives about 2.5 hours away and my uncle has had the same fate as my mother so I think I'm safe for the time being. My sister is aging just the way my aunt did, only worse because she's not only self-rightous and snippy, but she's also hyper. My husband says that she's also becoming like his aunt, who is also estranged. I'll dish the dirt on everybody sooner or later. He says it's good because he knows the playbook and will be able to predict her moves.

So around Jan-Feb.,  while my sister is calling/e-mailing me with the worried daughter routine, I would call my father. She had suggested that we either chip in and hire a cleaning service or we take turns going there once a week. Fine. Only my father kept saying, "We're ok now. I'll manage for as long as I can." Hey, he's 81 but he drives just fine, still cuts the grass, and makes perfect sense. Oh sure, he can be curmudgeonly, but that's normal for his age. He's usually upbeat and active. Finally I was able to gently convince my sister without lighting her fuse, that my father was doing the best he could and that this situation was really hard on him. He's worked all his life, he's always been there for us, he's lucky to be alive (family history not good) and he doesn't deserve this lot in life. Predictably, my mother eventually deteriorated. She became incontinent. It became harder for him to get her up to clean her (the man is a saint) or to get her to bed, etc. He got more frustrated (in a sad, not angry way) with my mother's growing idiosyncracies. My sister had a fit that he said in the evil, admonishing tone that is her speaking voice, "She'll only eat twinkies" thus mocking what my father says. My husband's grandmother is in a nursing home. She only eats desserts. Hmm, *professional* care givers can't even get her to eat a good meal. Well, guess what? If we got her to eat perfectly nutritious meals, it wouldn't bring her mind back. May as well let her eat what she wants at this point. The doctor eventually said that too. Big surprise.

So I've got my sister calling and wailing away and my father painting a different picture, saying they're fine. Should I have gone over there more? Maybe. Am I a rat for not? I don't know. My sister lives further away than I do, but she can drive expressways, etc. with no problem at all. She has a son in college and a daugher who just finished h.s. She's independent really, she drives and everything. My sister works as a personal trainer (and she's just been made obsolete by the Wii. I know there are good ones and I know people like them, but I can't resist taking a shot.)  More about my sister's career/etc. later. I did help my father get secondary prescription insurance information from the computer. It literally took me three days. At one point no had been able to contact them for days by phone. My husband left work and went to check on them. The phone was out and they didn't know it. He went out and bought a new phone/answering machine, hooked it up, showed him how to use it, wouldn't take any money for the machine, helped him get his phone co. out there and made arrangements for us to call a neighbor if it ever happened again. That's gotta count for something.

Maybe I hadn't been there since Christmas, but at least on Christmas, I stayed for more than 30-45 min. Since my mother could no longer make dinner, I suggested that we take over, but my sister suggested that we order a pizza.  Christmas Eve, also my sister's b-day, was always a very very special night for us. Not this time. She glared, she paced, she was short and snippy and made everybody feel very uncomfortable. She kept raving, quite unbelievably if you ask me, about her church pageant. "Oh remember last year when little so- and so fell asleep". Remember her kids are far beyond pageant age. Come to think of it, when her kids were little, they either spent the night at my parents house or stayed until late in the evening.  This was obviously going to be my mother's last Christmas where she half knew who people were, but they had more important things to do. They decided that they did not have time to eat. As is tradition, we both brought Christmas cookies. Guess who we saw smuggle her tin back without offering it to my parents?  So they ran out of there like bats out of hell, leaving us awkwardly trying to keep the 'party' going. Our kids were starving. We, ever the miscreants, looked up her area churches online and darn if there was nothing resembling a pageant anywhere near that date and time. The best guess that the rest of us can come up with is that they were fighting. (Fighting? Wouldn't being married to that be absolute bliss? I'm confused.) And to all a good night.

Even before Christmas (sorry for those who don't celebrate it, I just use holidays as a time reference), she would say that she went over there and the house was filthy. At X-mas, I didn't think so. Sure, the house is old and if you bent your head down and squinted, you probably could find some dust. Newsflash: Houses do not have to be spotless to be habitable. It's a fact. Just watch "How Clean is Your House?" and you will feel better. My mother once told me that she was glad when I came over. "When Carol comes over, she'll start looking around, grab a dustcloth and start dusting, or she'll start cleaning the stove. It makes me feel terrible. When you come over, I don't have to worry. We just have a good time." So hahaha Carol! And that statement coming from my mother, a certified neat freak. So my sister's ragging on my father. My father is from an era when men didn't do housework. He went to work, did the grocery shopping, cut the grass, made repairs (ok he sat and stared at the problem for ages and then muttered mild curse words). She cleaned, cooked, did laundry and they were perfectly happy. They weren't always perfectly happy. It doesn't fit here, but if ever there was an inspiration for staying together through horrible (not physical) fighting, they are it. How they used to fight when I was around 10 to how close they grew together makes me cry.

But anyway, so here's my father being gradually put in the role of housekeeper and later cook and caregiver. He never even complains. Now my sister gets mad if he says that he can't stay long at the nursing home because he has things to do. She also got mad when he would get frustrated with my mother's behavior at home because it kept him from accomplishing things he needed to get done. She would say in an angry and sarcastic tone, "What does he have to do?" Well today it was laundry. He even planted tomatoes; putting in tomato plants was practically the highlight of my mother's year. If  my sister wants to complain about his being busy, then maybe she should blame my mother. That's right, my mother. When my father retired, my mother logically pictured him sitting in front of the t.v. all day and night. She knew that would kill him. She loved my father and 'keeping him around' became her priority. As a result, she ran that man like a dog. She made sure she found things for him to do and absolutely refused to let him sit in front of the t.v. until after dinner. I think he just got used to it.

I am finally pulling the plug on this. She is a total weirdo. My mother has not been doing well. She has alzheimer's disease. Actually, they say it's really small strokes, but it sure seems like alzheimer's. How far back do you want me to start. It's hard to tell when it started, when it got passed the point where her memory was coming and going and progressed to where it was going. She had feared this all of her life because her grandmother had it and her father had it. As a result, I believe that she tried her best to deny it and hide it. She also lives over an hour away from me. I've mentioned numerous times that I'm no driver, so I have witnesses. I'd also have to go through bad neighborhoods, negotiate dead man's curve, etc. etc. So my sister became concerned around Jan. or so. It was a little too late by then to be concerned about her well being because of course,  you can't exactly reverse that, you know. As cruel as it is, I think in some ways, it's easier on the relatives because you have a long time to get used to the idea. In many ways I'm lucky. It would be far worse to have lost her suddenly when I was a baby or a teen. It would be worse to see her die of cancer if her mind were clear and alert. In fact, she has always said that she wouldn't want to be kept alive on a ventilator, etc. When I was a teenager I couldn't listen to such talk and I would leave the room. I felt that I would never ever give up hope ever. Now I guess I realize that as sad as it is, sometimes, there is nothing you can do. Really. Nothing. I think the Terry Schavo case is a little suspicious because I don't think that many people in thier early 20s are that adamant in their desires for a living will. Maybe she could have mentioned it in passing while watching a news story, but that's about it. I think the cause of her condition was suspicious too, but I don't disagree with not keeping her alive.

The extent of the dilemma has really hit home. There are millions of people that are just existing. They wander around or sit in chairs all day. People feed them, diaper them, and go through the motions of having movie time or craft time while the people just stare, sleep, or scream. They could live for over a decade after they've forgotten who they are, forgotten what their loved ones look like, forgotten how to have any quality of life whatsoever.

Smoking:                              Hard to stop once you start.

Keeping up with your blog:   Hard to start once you stop.

If you have a regular news source, it's only natural that you'll hear an interesting story or two only to have it disappear quickly. Never more has this been the case with me before now. Around APRIL 21, a stroller containing a toddler was blown into Lake Michigan while his helpless, horrified grandfather could do nothing more than jump in the frigid water and scream for help. Police divers were a short distance away at our Midway Airport and had him out within minutes, but in the confusion of the shock, the man's broken English (He's Serbian), etc. the boy was under water for 15 min.  Everybody knows that death occurs after about 3 min. underwater, and significant brain damage before that.  Not everybody knows that that rule doesn't always apply if the accident involves children and frigid water. I don't know all the scientific details, but the sudden shock of the cold water creates a mini-hibernation based on stimulating the dive-reflex or something like that.

You've probably guessed that the boy survived. He was taken to a top hospital that has well-documented success treating that kind of accident. A family friend two days later said that he was doing 'better'. The family didn't want any other information given out. I know that hospitals in the u.s. have much stricter privacy laws, but somebody must know something. I am tempted to e-mail the two writers of the main article in our major paper, or e-mail a newscaster that I like from the radio station I listen to all the time. I know they would say that they would cover it if they could, blah blah blah. I think everybody who heard the story is waiting for a happy ending. I wonder how many people remember? It was a major story. I google it looking for more info and see that newspapers across the u.s. had picked up the story. I think I will e-mail that newscaster.

Carlos Zambrano is a baseball player. Last year during one of  his pitching starts, a teammate, the well-liked Michael Barrett, was having a terrible game defensively. What does Zambrano do? He punched him in the face in the dugout. Later Barrett went up to him in the clubhouse to talk things over and Zambrano hit him again. If that were my team (I guess it's easy to say when I have no money/job on the line) he would have been gone. Instead, Michael Barrett was suddenly traded a short time later. Carlos gets what Carlos wants. Fortunately for me, Zambrano went on to have a horrible month that same year. I didn't hear about anyone punching him.

He's doing well this year but with every inning and every pitch that I hear, I wish with all my heart that he will choke or even become injured. I guess I just can't stand to see truly horrible human beings succeed, especially Zambrano. He really burns me up.

DB is right, Seabiscuit ruptured a tendon, recovered, and went on to race. I'm no expert, but I've heard that horses have been bred to have finer bones for more speed. I know that some breeds of dogs have been bred to accentuate certain features and it's gone to the extreme. Some smallish breeds with large heads have to have a C-section in 100% of cases. I've heard that if you get a bulldog that can walk up the stairs, you are very fortunate.

I've also heard that the horses raced harder at a younger age. I heard that all thoroughbreds born during the year are given the birthdate of  Jan. 1st, so the horses aren't exactly three yr. olds. Stress like that on fine bones that haven't had a chance to mature can cause them to shatter. I also understand that every horse in the Kentucky Derby has the same horse (forgot which one) in it's pedigree, so the gene pool is kind of small.

As for the people copying and pasting celebrity news, etc. I'm an even bigger naive idiot than I thought for believing that they were actually typing those stories! I never thought of the plagarism angle either.

The school where my son takes violin lessons is moving. Lucky me; instead of being 15 min. away, it's going to be 5 min. away. However, just because it's closer doesn't mean that I can't get lost!  To prevent this, and to help anyone who is may have to find an address in the future, I will reason it out.

The studio is at 10751 167th St. at the corner of 167th and 108th Ave. Turn right onto 167th. Stay on 167th Ave. until you pass 108th St. Go two blocks further on 167th, and you should be at 165th. Start looking for music school.

I actually did this. I'm not kidding. My brain really works like this.Waaaa!