W - Wheelchair - (Adam)

This one will be pretty short. But it is not short because I don't have much to say. It will be short because I have written about this man so many times before.

For example, our many trips to the hospital:

•  From Ferris Wheel to Hospital Waiting Room
• Abscessed Adventures with Adam WARNING: GRAPHIC!!! Adam bleeds from his groin
  
• Hop Along Sunday
• Dad, Do You Ever Get That No-So-Fresh Feeling? - Male Yeast Infections
• Getting Tired of Hospitals 

Our DJ shows

• I need More Hours in the Day

Our Outing Adventures

• Fortune Cookie #2
• DT or Not DT

The apology post he made me write because every time I ever wrote about him it was to make fun of him.

• I am a Person and Other Complaints

When we first met, Adam was a smart-mouthed teenager about 10 years younger than me. We had a few mutual acquaintances and crossed paths now and then. At some point, he disappeared. I honestly didn't notice. He was a friend of a friend. However, many years later, I ran into him again. He still had that smart mouth, but he moved significantly slower. Probably due to the loss of his feet and not being very good with his new wheelchair yet.

Adam had been through a lot since the last time I saw him and I love a good story. So, we had lunch so I could hear it.

I can't remember how it happened, but over the course of the next year we became close friends and I even became his disability-paid caregiver. I employed him in the tattoo shop I owned to greet customers when they walked in the door and set appointments. We started spending a lot of time together and really enjoyed each other's company.

Due to Adam's new medical issues, I ended up running him to the emergency room several times. It made for great blog fodder (see links above). He even got to return the favor once when I had an emergency and couldn't move one side of my body. By then, he had almost learned how to drive without feet and I really didn't have much of a choice.

Adam eventually started a DJ business because it was something he could do while seated. AND he was good at it. He really knew how to get a crowd worked up. However, he was not able to do all the setup and tear down of the heavy speakers and equipment. That part fell to me. It didn't pay well, but I got invited to every wedding in town and drank for free.

We made a lot of noise everywhere we went and annoyed everyone garnered a lot of attention. We spent a few years just laughing at each other's stupid jokes.

Eventually, we each left Illinois. I met a girl and moved to Indiana. He met a girl and moved to Missouri. Since then, we have each married those girls (he knocked his up - TWICE!) and I have even moved out of the country. So, we don't see each other as much as we would like anymore, but we do pretty good to stay in touch. He even called me the other day just to discuss the most recent Game of Thrones episode. I hadn't watched it yet, so I hung up on him. But he meant well.

Adam, I miss you, buddy.

August 5, 2017

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This month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. Each day this month, people around the world are writing blog posts and working their way through the alphabet. Each person decides their own personal theme. I am writing about people who have affected my life.

From Barbara's Belly Button to Janet's Boob

Back in August 29, 2011, I asked my readers for suggestions of things to write about. I have since covered almost every topic that was suggested to me. However, I didn't do them all. I was not too worried about this, but one of my friends has been hassling me ever since then as to why I still haven't written on his topic. In fact, he brought it up again today.

My persistent complainer has been Adam Elliott. He had asked me to write about the change in television content over the years. I blew him off again explaining that I would have to do too much reading before writing the post, but decided to tackle it tonight anyway.

Before we go any further, I want to make it clear that I greatly enjoy television. I don't watch a lot of it anymore because I just don't have the time, but I love Dexter, True Blood, The Walking Dead, and Sons of Anarchy when I do watch. Knowing this, hopefully as I start talking about this topic, I won't be considered a prude or sound self-righteous.

When television first came out in the 40's it was mainly used as a propaganda tool to get people to buy war bonds, telecast boxing matches and broadcast the news. Even the news was mainly a recap of the front page newspaper headlines. You didn't discover anything new on television that you couldn't read in that morning's paper. There was no discussion of the dangers of television content for almost twenty years, because there was nothing serious on television to discuss.

Technically, the Flinstones beat them
by 2 years, but that was a cartoon.

Today, it has been almost 10 years (2004) since Janet Jackson boobed us live during the Super Bowl halftime show. Forty years before that (1964), the most controversial and talked about thing on television was the show Bewitched, because for the first time a married couple was depicted as sharing the same bed. In fact, the only reason they were able to get away showing Darin and Samantha in such a suggestive position was because Samantha was a witch. Since she was not human and the show already openly displayed witchcraft, they thought they could get away with it because she was not considered to be human.

Despite that huge leap, the following year I Dream of Jeannie debuts on television and the network decided that her showing her belly button would be too racy. In every episode, they either filled her navel with putty or had her wear a skin colored covering over it.

It was during this period (mid-60's) that the head of the FCC called television "wasteland TV," because it had become a bunch of silly nonsense. What had once been envisioned as a way of better bringing information to people was now showing The Beverly Hillbillies, The Munsters, The Addams Family, Bewitched, I Dream of Jeannie, My Mother the Car,  Green Acres, and Gilligan's Island. As entertaining as they might have been, they were in no way depictions of the real world. For the first time, television was recognized as being an escape.

By the time day time talk shows came around, they focused on bringing the audiences attention to an issue or offering assistance (sometimes useful counseling) to their guests. Today, these shows are to do DNA tests to discover which of the dozen men someone has slept with might be the baby daddy or to celebrate some other family's unbelievable dysfunction. If the family is messed up enough, they might be given their own reality show.

If you call yourself a 'family' channel,
should you really play this show?

Without even turning to cable, I can see more sex, drug use, and violence in one night of prime time programming than was on TV for an entire year when they started pushing the boundaries in the 1960's. Plus, now there is so much more to choose from. Then there were only three networks. Today, there are six plus literally hundreds of cable channels. Some of those channels, it is to be expected. However, when ABC Family puts a disclaimer before a show stating that it may have questionable material, I have to wonder why they use the name they do. I guess giving the warning gets them off the hook rather than just choosing 100% family suitable programming as their name suggests.

In 1951, I Love Lucy was almost cancelled before it even started because when it came time to film the pilot Lucille Ball was pregnant. The producers decided to go on with the show, but always keep her condition hidden from the camera. Years later, when she was carrying Desi, Jr. the network decided to incorporate her pregnancy into the show, but still forbid the use of the word 'pregnant.' Today, you can see outright sex acts on prime time network television. We are not shown full blown nudity, but very little is left to the imagination.

In 1967, the first curse word was used on television. Captain Kirk said, "Let's get the hell out of here" on Star Trek. Today, cursing is so common ABC has had two shows with the word 'bitch' in their titles.

• GCB - This stood for Good Christian Bitches, which they later changed to Good Christian Belles when it wasn't well received. Only a couple of episodes made it on screen. It was cancelled May 11, 2012.
• Don't Trust the B---- in Apt. 23 - The 'B' stands for bitch. This one is still on the air today in its second season.

Although, I do not curse myself, I don't squirm at the sound of curse words. I love a good horror movie and watch television that would have given June Cleaver a cardiac arrest to learn the Beaver was watching, but I do recognize that a steady diet of this stuff is probably not good for my brain. There is definitely even more to consider when it comes to what children watch. I am not an advocate for saying that watching a violent show or playing a violent video game will cause someone to use a hatchet on the neighbor's cat or go shoot up the local mall, but I do believe that it is really naive to think that a steady diet of this stuff has absolutely no effect.

Whether you have a problem with this evolution or not, the original point of my post was just to point out the changes. They have occurred and things have changed. Considering how far things have gone, we are left with the question that many have started asking.

Since so much is allowed and we show more and more all the time, should the FCC even be regulating or censoring television any more?

I would love to hear your thoughts.

Learning Curve

After spending over an hour staring at my keyboard trying to figure out what to write today, I started perusing the archives of my blog. I lost track of the fact that I was supposed to be writing and started playing with all the settings and tools in Blogger. I've looked at all these before, but I learned a few new things.

I figured out how to back up my blog. I've always heard this was a good idea in case crazed zombie hordes attack the Blogger servers, but had never done it. So I downloaded the entire content of my blog. I didn't want to just have it on my hard drive, so I uploaded another copy to my online storage at Google Drive. I don't really know if that was a good idea since both Drive and Blogger are powered by Google, but I figure if Google ever goes down, the world is probably seconds away from implosion anyway…so, it's not really going to matter.

Once I felt that Blogger wasn't entertaining me anymore, I moved on and stumbled upon how to embed individual tweets into a blog post.

What if all the people who danced with signs to advertise stores went on strike? That would be the best picket line ever?
— Brett Minor (@brettminor) September 24, 2012

"Get off your high horse!" - Veterinarian who prescribed medical marijuana.
— Brett Minor (@brettminor) September 18, 2012

I had to throw these in simply because I learned how to do it. Apparently, this is a pretty simple process, but I never knew about it because no one told me and I missed the press release. Also, Twitter never sends me letters to introduce their new features. Consider this your warning that my next several posts will probably have tweets interspersed in them. And if you're not already a Twitter follower, now's a good time to do it.

After playing with my new Twitter toy for a while, I wandered over to Google Analytics to see what search terms are leading people to my site. Here are some of the stranger ones.

jackass whisperer

All of the guys on Jackass are pretty loud except when they are whispering to the camera about how they are about to strip someone naked, throw him onto a bus of nuns and then hold the doors shut while they throw snakes in the windows. To my knowledge, I have never discussed these things on my blog, so I don't understand how it brings them to my site, but I welcome the traffic. Although, I am curious to try an experiment. Here is the cast list for the most common Jackass characters: Johnny Knoxville, Bam Margera, Ryan Dunn, Chris Pontius, Steve-O, Preston Lacy, Brandon DiCamillo. Let's see if that influences my search results.

angry turkey
I briefly mentioned my Angry Birds addiction several months ago and turkeys are birds, so I guess this works. Plus, most turkeys I have seen appear to be angry, but I would be angry too if I was a bird who couldn't fly and is basically only good for being eaten.

when i miss you i re-read our old conversations and smile like an idiot
This one actually popped up several times with just slight variations. I do often re-read my old posts because I think I'm brilliant and it does make me smile like an idiot, but I had no idea Google knew that. These search engines are getting spookily powerful. I am getting the red squiggly lines under the word 'spookily', but I know what I am trying to say and I believe that's the best word - even if spell check says it's not a word.

karate vs taekwondo
I hope the person searching this found his answer when he got here. I don't remember writing about either one.

no outside food
This one I have no problem with. People shouldn't be eating while reading my posts. It's just rude.

butcher clown

Click picture for
clown butcher post

This one is kind of creepy. Not only because someone would be searching for this one to begin with, but also the fact that I actually have a picture of a butcher clown on my site.

naked redheads   
I don't know what I wrote that caused this search to lead people to my blog, but I could get behind this one.
 
amputee cheerleader
I have written about my buddy Adam several times. He is an amputee, but I believe the person coming to my blog hoping to satisfy their strange fetish is greatly disappointed when they find his picture. Although, if there's a market for it, maybe I should put Adam in a short skirt and we could start a website.

Call Me Maybe

I haven't written about it on here, but for the last two months, I've been broke. I mean broke, broke. As in I don't have two pennies to rub together broke. That's actually an exaggeration. I do have two pennies and a dime, but what can you do with twelve cents and what would rubbing them together do for me? I have had to call all my accounts (cell phone, internet, power, etc.) to make payment arrangements or deferments just to keep my services on.

Due to not having any money, Kirsten and I have not been out to eat since early August. It's much cheaper to eat at home, but Kirsten is convinced that a prolonged diet of frozen pizza and burritos is somehow unhealthy. I retorted with the fact that not drinking the sugary sodas for six weeks should outweigh her concerns. She still doesn't agree.

I pulled out my wallet to show her how empty it was. When I held it upside down to prove my point, a slip of paper drifted out. Kirsten had already walked out of the room, so she didn't get to see this fortune cookie fortune:

An embarrassing situation? I wonder what it will be. Plus, I have to wonder if I am the best person to call in the event of something embarrassing happening. I like to think that I'm a decent guy. I try to be helpful when I can. I would even be helpful in an embarrassing situation, but would someone really want to call me. I spend a considerable amount of time making fun of people and will laugh at an embarrassed person faster than Oprah can grab the last doughnut. If you are caught in an embarrassing situation, I will probably remind you about it for the rest of your life or until you cut me out of your circle of friends. Whichever comes first.

When my buddy Adam was bleeding out of his groin or was inflicted with a male yeast infection, I wasn't exactly sensitive to how embarrassing this might be for him. In fact, the whole experience ended up in my blog (be sure to click the links; they are well worth the read). However, I guess it could be said that I was helpful. Not sympathetic (or even nice), but helpful.

I can remember one time when I didn't take advantage of someone's embarrassing situation. I was about 20 years old and at a party out in the middle of nowhere. It was one of those country parties where a keg is consumed in the middle of a field by a few dozen people not old enough to drink in bars. As I am talking with a group of friends, I feel a tap on the shoulder. I turn around to find the younger sister of one of my friends.

Names are changed to prove that I can be discreet.
KELLY: I need you to come with me.
ME: Where we going?
KELLY: I can't tell you.
ME: Why not?
KELLY: Just follow me.

Always up for an adventure, I followed. We walked out into the field away from the party. I asked where we were going and she advised me to just keep walking. After a few minutes, we had gone far enough that we couldn't even see the party.

ME: Hey, where are we going?
KELLY: Remember that girl that came here with me tonight?
ME: I think. Mary, right?
KELLY: Marion. She needs your help.
ME: Help with what?
KELLY: She's stuck.

Kelly explained that they had wandered away from the party to empty their bladders. Being a party in a field, there were surprisingly few bathrooms. This is not an issue for guys or immodest girls, but most girls of the female persuasion tend to get away from the crowd before squatting on the ground. Marion and Kelly had gone for the overkill in making sure no one saw them by walking almost a quarter mile.

When they found a suitable place away from the eyes of anyone at the party, they dropped their pants to do what they came to do. Kelly said she was mid-stream when she heard Marion fall over and scream. Marion had lost her balance and fallen back into a briar patch. Kelly said she tried to help her out, but the vines were so thick, she couldn't get her out by herself.

About this time, I hear a timid voice call out, "Kelly, is that you?" She answers and we move toward the voice, but Marion yells out from the darkness, "STOP! Kelly, who did you bring?"

KELLY: I brought Brett.
MARION: What? You brought a guy? I wanted a girl.
KELLY: You said to get someone you didn't know.
MARION: I meant a girl I didn't know.
KELLY: You didn't say that.
ME: Why does it matter?
MARION: (crying) Because I don't have any pants on!
ME: OH!

I hadn't really thought about it, but it made sense. She had pulled down her pants before falling in and getting stuck.

Kelly offered to go back and get someone else, but she had been gone over 20 minutes to get me. Marion said she couldn't wait that long again. She reluctantly agreed to accept my help. As I start moving toward her voice she yells, "Don't look!"

Ever the gentleman (believe it or not), I kept my eyes to the ground as I approached. When I reached her, she made me promise to keep my eyes closed. I agreed and slowly leaned in to see feel what we working with. I had trouble even getting close to her because of the thickness of the briars. Every direction I turned caused them to stick in my arms, clothes and face. I quickly realized the 'closed eye thing' wasn't going to work.

I leaned in real close and opened my eyes to look right into her face and explained that if she actually wanted out of here, she would have to let me use my sight to both keep myself untangled and find where she was stuck. She hung her head, but agreed. I placed my jacket over her lap so she wouldn't feel as exposed.

Looking at the situation, I could see that she had really struggled to get out. Her pants were almost completely removed. Her shirt had caught as she fell and was pulled up around her shoulders. She had managed to pull the front down, but the back was behind her head.

I had Kelly hold some of the briars back while I tried to pull her shirt free of the thorns. She was deep enough into the bush that it was a hopeless task. It would immediately catch on others and it could not be slid down her back due to the thorns stuck in her. The same was true for the pants.

Both the girls thought that if Kelly pulled back some of the briars branches I might be able to just pull her out. I doubted it would work, but we gave it a try. Marion yelled after moving only a few inches. She was hooked by those briars all down her back, her legs, and part of her arms.

I started on her arms first. I slowly pulled the branches and when we discovered resistance, I would take care of that thorn before moving to the next one. I eventually freed both of her arms and had broken off the offending branches so they could not grab her again.

Once I got her legs free, I tried to lift her out again. The resulting pain was the same as before. She was still stuck all along her backside. Once again, I started on her legs, but this time I had to feel around to find where she was stuck. As I got past her knees, she blurted out, "Watch your hands!"

"SERIOUSLY! I understand your yearning for modesty, but I don't see any other solution here. Do you want the thorns out of your flesh or not?"

She lowered her eyes and said, "Get it over with."

She quietly endured the displeasure of a stranger running his hands over her skin. Once we freed her legs, she was able to lift herself enough for me to pull the thorns out of her butt. Of course, due to the restricted space we were in, I had to feel around to find them. This is not a joke. It's what I had to do.

They were huge and some of them broke off.

She had been sitting on them for almost an hour at this point and they were dug in pretty deep. Plus, like the other thorns, they couldn't just be pulled out. They were dug in at a variety of angles and had to be pulled out in the right direction. So, after thirty minutes of me running my hands all over her body (including unmentionable places; the thorns did not discriminate), she was finally free.

After clearing the loose thorns out of her clothes, she was dressed again. Handing me my jacket, she looked at me and opened her mouth to say something. She then stopped, dropped her eyes and walked back to the party. I hung back for several minutes to allow the gap between us she so obviously wanted. Kelly later told me that Marion was very grateful for what I had done and said that I did well to try and make her feel comfortable, but she was too embarrassed to talk to me.

Twenty years later, I still occasionally run into her and she always reacts the same way when she sees me. She drops her eyes to the ground and slowly walks away.

So, while I may not be the guy to call in an embarrassing situation today, I used to be the guy to call. I was gentle, discreet and respectful. The perfect response for dealing with someone in such a compromising position, but it's not nearly as fun.

Yankee Soldiers in Portsmouth

Writer's block sucks.

I am writing this post because I've not posted much this month. For the last two months I've averaged a post about every other day. This will only be my 5th post for this month, if you can count yesterday as an actual post.

It's not like I haven't had anything going on to write about. In fact, it's quite the opposite. I've been out of my house doing actual stuff more than usual. There is plenty to write about, but every time I sit down to do it, nothing comes out.

My theory is that now that summer is here I'm out doing more and have trouble concentrating when I sit down at my computer. I just came from some event and will be running out to another soon. My mind is on the things I've been doing or are about to do. The months when I was doing lots of writing were when I was in school and I was sitting at my computer all day anyway. Knowing I was doing nothing else for months may have been my motivation to write.

If this is true, then I may have trouble writing during the summer, but will build up enough things to write about that I should have plenty of material to carry me through the winter. I don't really know. It's just a theory.

To make some attempt at this post, I will try to cover some of the things I've been up to.

Adam and I have done a lot of shows. Summer is here and the DJ business is picking up. We've played for the local Chamber of Commerce, several bars and have done a lot of weddings. The weddings are my favorite. I have decided to start taking my camera to get pictures of what happens once the liquor has been flowing for a few hours. Videotaping two middle aged fat guys act out Michael Jackson's Beat It would give my blog traffic for months. At that same wedding, when we played LMFAO's Sexy and I Know It about a dozen pre-teens ran out on the dance floor and did a choreographed dance routine complete with the guy that has the box on his head. It was cute until it got to the wiggle wiggle part. Then, it was a little disturbing to watch. Most those kids were twelve. Who taught them to do that?

I have spent a significant amount of time with Red. Things are going very well with us, but it gets a little difficult sometimes trying to decide what to share with our readers and what to keep private. Last weekend, we attended a wedding in New Hampshire and had a very difficult time traveling there. For the full story of our adventure with United Airlines and our missed flight click here for my post at Studio 30 Plus.

They were practicing for something and did not like
my presence.  I hid in the trees to get more pictures.
They found me.

Despite the troubles getting there, the trip was great. I was chased off by some Civil War soldiers in Portsmouth who did not appreciate having their pictures taken. Maybe they didn't know what a camera was.

The 'general' actually said, "I order you off this property."

I reminded him that he wasn't a real general, so didn't have any real authority, but the look in his eyes when he started toward me made me stop questioning and leave. Well, I sort of left. Being proud of my Southern heritage (except for that unfortunate slave fiasco), I decided to keep snapping pictures. The general soon discovered me and exercised his supposed authority again.

Since the city was founded in 1623, they consider themselves to be rather historic. Due to all the threatened gun play, I decided to venture into a more modern part of the city. I wandered through many unique shops and found a LIFE IS GOOD merchandise store. I had never heard of this brand so I checked it out. It is mostly clothing and other accessories depicting cartoon likenesses of life's good things. Playing frisbee. Grandma's cooking. A comfortable bed. Falling in love. A beautiful song. You get the picture.

A few blocks later I found another store.

This store sold a very similar line of products,
only a little bit different.

That evening, I searched for crabs on the beach with one of the other bridesmaids, Red and I took a harbor cruise, we ate incredibly expensive meals for the next two days and met a lot of great people. I hated to have to fly back and bring the weekend to an end.

---

Well, this post just took on a life of it's own once I started typing. I've heard the best cure for writer's block is to write and it seems to have worked in this case. I meant to write about the things that have been keeping me busy this summer, but it looks like this post ended up being mostly about the past weekend. I don't feel like going back to edit it, so it is going to stay as is. I have to get to another show with Adam tonight anyway.

On Tuesday, I am hopping a plane with my daughter to head to Portland, Oregon for my cousin's wedding. We are staying there for an entire week, so we will have plenty of time to see the city and hopefully get into a little bit of trouble. We will be meeting up with Jen of "Jen" e sais quoi to help us find the hot spots. Plus, she has promised my daughter some quality vintage clothes shopping, so expect me to be wandering off on my own while they do their girl stuff. I hate shopping.

I'm taking my laptop with me, so I will try to keep you posted  on what we are up to.

Brett's Plans Fall Apart...Again

Yesterday marked a milestone in the ongoing saga between myself and Red of Doesn't Speak Klingon. It was the first time she came to my hometown. Up until now, we have met somewhere in the middle or I have gone to her area.

Red coming here had more meaning than just less travel for me. She was going to meet my daughter Kirsten as well. This was, of course, very important.

After Red left, I asked Kirsten's opinion and she said, "She's just wonderful." This morning, Kirsten was talking about how pretty and funny Red is. I have to say the day went very well and Kirsten is correct. Red is wonderful, pretty and funny. I have been wanting to share more of our time together with my readers so you can see more of this as well, but it is not that easy.

Readers of Red's blog know that she is a very private person. She does not use her real name and the only photos of herself that she has ever used have been from her childhood. I approach my blog in a much different way. My life is (for the most part) an open book. I have divulged my real name, where I live and work and have not even used aliases for my kids. I had never considered what this might mean when I first started writing, but now that it's out there, I can't take it back.

Since I include lots of pictures of the activities I write about (which she has become a part of) and hate to leave my readers without details, I convinced Red to allow some of the pictures I have of us together to be used. So as not to betray her confidence, I will still not give away her name and gave her final say on what pictures could be used. So, my readers will finally get to see what she looks like starting with this post.

Yesterday morning, we intended to head south to Giant City for some rappelling on a 140 foot rock bluff. However, right before leaving we had to change our plans. My brother Kyle, who had all the equipment, couldn't make it. We (Red, myself, my daughter and her friend Charles) decided to go to the area anyway.

Giant City Water Tower

Giant City has miles of rugged trails and beautiful scenery. I first took her to an area where we could survey the park before we tackled it. We climbed the steps to the water tower (pictured on the left) and admired the miles of scenery we could see around us. It is a beautiful area with a breath-taking view for those who have the nerve to get to the top. It is well worth the climb, especially in the fall when the leaves are changing.  With this backdrop, I convinced Red to pose for our first public picture. Reluctantly, she agreed.

She is right behind the guy with the glasses. Isn't she beautiful?

After picking the direction we wanted to explore we ventured out into the wilderness. The Giant City State Park has warning signs posted on every path and throughout the rest of the park telling people to watch their step and use extreme caution. There are deep ravines and large drop offs everywhere. Much of the ground is rocky and gets slick when wet.

Red tripped right before the snap.

After leaving Giant City, we sought out a Root Beer Saloon and enjoyed root beer floats in the small town of Alto Pass. We then made our way to a natural bridge that I had heard about. After a long winding drive down a terrible gravel road we finally arrived. A short hike through the woods and there it was.

Between the bright background and her light colored shirt,
I think the picture is a little overexposed.

I know it's blurry. I wasn't ready.

After a long day of hiking and climbing rocks, we started the journey home. We didn't get far before my radio went out. While trying to find the problem, I noticed that I was losing power to the vehicle. I pulled into a Casey's gas station and 90 minutes later my van is being towed away to a mechanic. Being close to 8 o' clock on a Saturday night, it wouldn't even be looked at until Monday morning.

Red using the curb for a pillow.

So, the four of us are stranded 60 miles from home and it is getting dark. Luckily, we know other bloggers and called one for help. Adam, from The Train's Whistle agrees to come pick us up. We knew it would take at least an hour for him to get to us, so we got comfortable. It was a beautiful night, so we set up camp in the parking lot.

We were happy it was a nice night, because it took Adam a considerable amount of time to get to us. When we called him, he had just ordered a meal at Chili's, so he could not leave until it arrived and he had eaten it. Forty-five minutes later, when he had gotten on the road, he was upset that he hadn't been able to enjoy a dessert.

Having never been to Elkville before, he was following the GPS on his smartphone which led him through a small town that happened to be having a carnival. Still depressed over missing his dessert, he stopped and scoured the event for a food cart. After buying a funnel cake with extra powdered sugar, he got back on the road with a smile on his face.

Since he drives a pickup, Kirsten and Charles had to ride in the back and we arrived home four hours after the initial breakdown. Add to this the fact that Red still had a 3 1/2 hour drive to get back home and she had a very long night.

Despite the unanticipated turmoil, we had a wonderful day. Adam was wonderful for coming to rescue us. Red is still coming back next week. We saw a lot of beautiful scenery. We ate at a great Thai place and we ran into this guy in Carbondale.

He was out killing zombies.
Don't ask. We didn't.

From Ferris Wheel to Hospital Waiting Room

I spent a good portion of my day at the hospital with Adam. He had to have surgery again today for his recurring abscess problem. This is his 8th occurrence since the beginning of the year. If you would like to catch up with this story here are the previous posts in order:

• Abscessed Adventures with Adam WARNING: GRAPHIC!!!
• Hop Along Sunday
• Dad, Do You Ever Get That No-So-Fresh Feeling?
• Getting Tired of Hospitals 

This was the largest one yet and they scheduled emergency surgery to get it taken care of. He is fine and doing well, but I wanted to share a couple of hospital room statements.

As Adam is just coming out of anesthesia:
NURSE: Adam, are you doing okay. How do you feel?
ADAM: (eyes still closed) Were there budget cuts?
NURSE: Budget cuts? What?
ADAM: (a little clearer) Has there been budget cuts since I went to surgery?
NURSE: (laughing) Adam, sweetie, I don't know what you're talking about?
ADAM: (opens eyes) I was just wondering why I no longer have a pillow.

As the nurses kept coming in to check on him, Adam was going in and out of consciousness from all the painkiller he was on. Despite the questions they had about what kind of pain he was in and how he felt, he insisted on telling them about the internet love story of myself and Red. They thought it was the incoherent babbling of a drugged man, but he got all the details right. He would not allow any other topic to be discussed for almost 30 minutes.

For whatever reason he had my love life on his mind, it must have been sparked by knowing that I had just spent the previous day with Red. We spent the day viewing various parts of the Indiana countryside and landed at a carnival that evening. I know some of our readers have been curious as to how well we are getting along and wondering if we have found ourselves to be compatible. I think that can be answered by how we spent a large portion of our time at the fair.

Coolest T-shirt find - I know. I'm a nerd

We each had our cameras out trying to capture people wearing the most ridiculous outfits to send to Misty at Misty's Laws for her Weekly Whacked segment. We were highly entertained by the couple in the matching camouflage shorts, the number of girls wearing cowboy boots with shorts and the woman frantically chasing her toddlers that would not stay by her side. Having someone to make fun of people with is much more rewarding than doing it by yourself, plus it gives me a greater sense of self-righteousness when another person is in agreement at the cluelessness of others.

NOTE: According to Blogger, cluelessness is not a word. However, I am still enjoying some feelings of superiority from yesterday, so I will refuse to change to another word. Blogger just needs to get smarter.

When we weren't making fun of the other fair goers, Red was turning several shades of green as we climbed on rides with teenagers to show them how it's done. I don't know what we showed them, but we succeeded in not getting sick despite the constant spinning of some of the rides.

For those of you paying attention to the ongoing story of Red and myself, we are getting along wonderfully and appreciate those of you that have been rooting for us. We will keep you up to date. Mostly.

I Need More Hours in the Day

I had a leisurely day planned for today. Physical therapy at 9 a.m. and a graduation to attend tonight at 6. I wanted to mow my yard, do a little house cleaning, some reading and maybe hit the gym. However, it did not turn out that way. I got done with therapy at ten and called Adam to see if he wants to go to the gym with me. He informs me that we just got hired to do a show at a local school that starts at noon. It was the last day of school and after the awards ceremony the school wanted to throw a party for the kids.

I flew home to get changed and we headed out to get the equipment. We get to the school and set up. They had a bouncy house, a jousting ring and obstacle course for the kids. The students ate outside, ran around like mad, danced to our music and requested a bunch of songs that we could never play at a school function.

At this event, I was told of an open house that afternoon at the homeless shelter I have been working with for the last year. After breaking down, I had time to go home, get showered from sweating outside all afternoon and go pick up my daughter before heading back to pick up Adam and go to the shelter.

After shaking a few hands and eating a few brats, we took Adam home to get to the school for the six o' clock graduation. On the drive over, I was explaining to Kirsten how the day had not gone as I had planned and I was looking forward to this graduation being over and getting back home. I was worn out.

The great thing about this graduation was that it was at a small private school. Very small. The high school graduating class consisted of two boys. Between handing out the diplomas, a commencement speech and a little Pomp & Circumstance, we should be back home by 6:30. My unexpected long day was moments away from being over.

When we got there, I noticed that there were an awful lot of people there to watch two kids graduate. I soon learned that there were four graduates, not two. Another kid who had completed the off-campus studies program and would be crossing the stage with these kids he had never met and a 75 year old man who had never graduated high school and started taking classes to get his long awaited diploma. That was actually pretty cool. However, it still seemed like a lot of people for only four graduates.

We took a seat next to a couple that we knew but hadn't really seen in a few years. They had a daughter who was about to turn three and I had never met. She was immediately taken with Kirsten and wanted to sit by us and talk.

Two minutes after meeting me,
she is telling me her life story.

A lot.

She talked and squirmed and crawled under the seats and tried to lick her finger to stick it in Kirsten's ear. Her dad said that at home she has her own version of the Wet Willy. It's called the Butt Willy. I'll leave you to figure out how that works for yourself.

Once the ceremony started, her dad made her sit in his lap. He said it was because he didn't want her to be a nuisance, but I couldn't help but notice it was right after I asked her if she would get in my car if I gave her some candy. For the next few minutes she kept asking me when we could go get the candy.

The principal stepped up to the mike to welcome everyone, said a quick prayer and stated that he would announce the graduates. I checked my clock: 6:07. We would be out of there in no time. After announcing the first name, a 4 foot person approaches the stage.

THIS WAS A KINDERGARTEN STUDENT!!!

Apparently, due to the size of the school, they do all the graduations at once. This would take a little longer than I thought. They gave the precious child her diploma and then had several children come to the stage to sing a song. A very loooong and slow song. When it was over, they moved to the 8th grade graduates. There were three in this class. They walked the stage fairly quickly and then brought up the singer to commemorate their achievement.

Here is one of the things about small schools...or any small organization. There is not a large talent pool to pull from. I know that not everyone is good at everything, but when you have 1,200 people to choose from, at least a few will be exceptional at any given talent. When you only have abut 20 people to choose from, you may end up with this:

I understand that she should be commended for having the courage to get up in front of everyone and sing, but courage will only impress people to a degree. Since this song was rather long and I was slowly coming to the realization that I was not getting out of here any time soon, I needed something to entertain myself.

Looking for something to do, I noticed the little girl from earlier staring at me. Every move I made caused her eyes to follow me. So, I turned off the flash to my camera and decided to have some fun.

I stuck out my tongue. She quickly followed suit.


I sucked in my lips and she did the same.


I pushed my nose up like a pig and she pushed hers up as well.

I crossed my eyes and she did this.


We had great fun for several minutes until something she did caused me to laugh.

She did not appreciate it and screamed at me.


I was able to escape her father's detection and played dumb.

That outburst caused her to have to go sit with Grandma.

With my entertainment gone, my attention was shifted back to the stage. The graduating seniors were brought to the stage and given their diplomas. The senior citizen and off-campus student were both recognized and the on campus graduates each addressed the crowd. No mention was made of valedictorian or salutatorian, but when there are only two people, does it really matter?

After their speeches, we were treated to a slide show set to music that chronicled every picture that had ever been taken of each of these boys.

Being a Christian school, it was followed up with a sermon and then finally concluded. This ceremony for one kindergartner, three 8th graders and four seniors (total of 8 people) had taken one hour and 37 minutes. I promptly told Kirsten to say her goodbyes and head to the car.

The principal jumped on stage for a last announcement.

"The families of the graduating seniors have prepared a meal and you are all invited to stay and eat."

Well, that changed everything. The main reason I wanted out of there so fast was to get some food. We fought the crowd to get to the tables in the back. Once sitting, the allure of food and good conversation distracted me. When I rose to leave, over two more hours had passed.

I never did make it to the gym.

Fortune Cookie #2

Last week, Adam and I got to eat at my favorite restaurant in Mt. Vernon China Buffet #6. The last time I was here there was some confusion about why it was called #6. Of the few employees that spoke English, none of them knew the reason. On this visit, I got my answer.

The owner opened 5 other restaurants before he opened this one.

I know. Boring. I was hoping it was something more interesting, like:

• It was the sixth attempt at passing health code regulations and this was the first one to succeed.
• The owner kept opening restaurants to give to his homely daughters that would never find husbands and this was for daughter number six.
• The previous five restaurants had been destroyed by ninjas to avenge the theft of a General Tsao chicken recipe.
• Six Buddhist monks are sworn to protect against the Mongols now that the restaurant has installed a Mongolian barbecue. The descendants of Genghis Khan are not happy.

Adam convinced her to pose for a picture.
I don't think she ever really understood
what he wanted.

We were served by our favorite waitress. I don't know her name, because I am given a different answer every time I ask her. I don't think she speaks English. She understands it well enough to take our order, but even then it is very limited. Luckily, it's a buffet place and she really only needs to know what you want to drink.

Waitress: What to drink?

Adam: Mountain Dew.

Waitress (to me): You?

Me: What do you have?

Waitress: You want soda?

Me: I quit drinking soda. What do you have?

Waitress: Sorry. Say again?

Me: What do you have?

Waitress: Drink. You want what?

Me: Do you have a menu?

Waitress: Mountain Dew

Me: No, no. Menu

Waitress: OK (walks away)

On her return she brings Adam's his Mountain Dew and I get a Pepsi. It may not have been what I ordered, but I guarantee she will never let it go empty. She keeps it full. She is a very good waitress, even if she does not speak the language of her customers.

The end of the meal comes and we receive our fortune cookies. I pull mine out and it says:

That's great. Everyone wants good luck and the Chinese are telling me that it is going to happen. They are also saying that it is going to happen soon. In the spring. The first day of spring was less than 6 weeks ago. The middle of June will see the end of spring, so my good luck is about to happen quickly.

Am I going to win the lottery? Probably not, since I don't play the lottery. Is a rich relative going to die and leave me their fortune. No, none of my family has any real money. Is my blog going to explode with growth, get a million new followers, be discovered by a world renowned literary agent and I get buckets of cash thrown at me? It could happen.

I carried this fortune in my wallet to keep it in mind and not take any little blessings for granted. Here is what has happened since I received this fortune.

• I ended up in the emergency room for my shoulder pain again. BAD LUCK. However, this visit led to a discovery of the issue causing these pains. I have started treatment to prevent further injury. GOOD LUCK.
• Reaching the end of the semester in graduate school, I have a 4.0 average. GOOD LUCK...and hard work on my part. I am only giving luck so much credit.
• This week I was offered a position as office manager of a new business opening in town this summer. I accepted the job. GOOD LUCK.
• Regular followers of my blog know that I have been talking to Red for the last few months. A few days ago, she moved. This move brought her 750 miles closer than she was before. GOOD LUCK.

Since all these things happened in the spring, I will consider this fortune to be accurate. Of course, the spring is not over. I even spoke to Red's father briefly on the phone yesterday and he did not threaten me with any type of physical violence.

It has been a good spring and I anticipate it to be followed up by a great summer. Part of the great summer will involve more trips to the China Buffet #6...maybe I can bring Red there sometime. 

I Want to Donate My Arm to Science

In past posts, I have told stories of some of the crazy things I have done (jumped out of moving cars, set myself on fire, crawled underneath moving trains, etc) and bragged about how I have never broken a bone. It is true that none of my bones have been broken, but that does not mean that I haven't done damage to my body. I was reminded of this yesterday morning.

After dropping Kirsten off at school, I noticed a small, but sharp pain in my right shoulder as I closed my vehicle door. While the pain was not much, I recognized what it was immediately. I have had it before and it usually gets much worse before it gets better.

I have written about this pain and what it does to me in two posts which can be read here.

That Which Doesn't Kill You, Makes You Realize How Old You Are
My Experiment With Steroids

This recurring problem has been diagnosed as bursitis, which in general is inflammation of the tissues in the joint. Once I first feel this coming on, the intensity grows slowly. My shoulder gets more and more distressed, restricting my movement a little each day. After about 5 or 6 days, it culminates in a horrible night, when I am unable to sleep because it hurts tremendously to even attempt to roll over. This time, it must have been in a rush.

Despite having only first felt the beginnings of this pain yesterday morning, the intensity grew quickly over the course of the day and I seriously considered if it would be worth chopping my arm off once I had been in bed for a couple of hours. Laying down allows more blood to go to the area and it begins to throb, shooting pain down my entire arm and into my back. The slightest movement multiplies the intensity.

I pushed through the night deciding to go to the emergency room in the morning. I had learned from previous experiences, that there is no point in going to my doctor, since it would take a week to get in and by then I would be dead...or wishing I was. Same thing.

Since I had taken Adam to the hospital on several occasions (here, here, here and here), I thought he might jump at the chance to  get to do the same for me. When I called him, he came over immediately. He was happy to return the favor and said so several times.

There was also a second reason I had called him. I still had full use of my other arm. I was perfectly capable of driving myself. After all, I had just driven my daughter to school. The previous times I had been to the E.R. for this problem, they asked me if I had driven myself. When I responded that I had, they responded, "Then we won't give you this shot."

The shot they were referring to was the good stuff. The ultra-super-feel-good-floating-in-the-clouds-meeting-Jesus shot. Since the pain in my shoulder is so sharp and intense, a regular painkiller does not begin to touch it, but they promised me this stuff would. I would explain that I only lived 2 blocks from the hospital. They could give it to me as I was walking out the door and I would go straight home. They declined saying that they didn't want to be the reason that I had to meet Jesus that day and never be allowed to leave. You know, because I died in an accident. The joke makes sense in my head.

Since I was in terrible pain and they had not given me the shot on previous visits because I was driving, I wanted Adam to take me so I could get it and then go back home and sleep. Because of the events of yesterday's post, Adam was going to see another doctor today. Knowing they might do a procedure on his feet or the abscesses, he had taken several strong painkillers. Thus, my attempt at staying safe behind the wheel of a car was diminished as soon as I hopped in with him. Nevertheless, he drove me in his self-induced haze.

Since I was not yet in the horrible pain as last time I was there, I was in a much better mood. And having had no sleep due to my shoulder, I had trouble following a logical line of thought.

Admitting Nurse: Are you allergic to anything?

Me: Just keep cats out of this room.

Nurse: We don't allow cats in the hospital.

Me: That's good. It would probably violate some health codes.

Nurse: Anything else.

Me: Local laws, maybe. I don't know.

(Later)
Nurse: Do you have a living will?

Me: No. I am going to live forever.

Nurse: No, you won't.

Me: Yes, I will.

Nurse: No, you will not. Everyone dies.

Me: I never have. Adam, have you?

Adam: Never. Not once!

Me: Ma'am, I have been pushed off a railroad bridge, fallen out of moving cars and even took an axe in the head. I have never even broken a bone. I will live forever.

Nurse: No, you will die.

Me: Your bedside manner sucks.

The on-call doctor informed me that he has never given the steroid shot into the bursa sac of the shoulder before and was not comfortable attempting it on me. I readily agreed. He did set me up with some anti-inflammatory drugs and some painkillers to help me sleep through the night. This means it will take longer to heal and get my range of motion back, but I will be on the mend instead of it intensifying any further.

Discharge nurse: Do you know your name?

Me: Why wouldn't I know my name?

Nurse: What's your name?

Me: What's your name?

Nurse: My name is Karen.

Me: Correct.

Nurse: Tell me your name.

Me: Don't you have it on the paper your holding?

Nurse: Yes, but I need to verify it.

Me: Didn't I give you my driver's license earlier?

Nurse: Yes, you did.

Me: Did you lose it?

Nurse: No. I have it right here.

Me: Well, I am sure it is correct.

Nurse: What's your name?

Me: The same as my license.

They eventually escorted us out and despite Adam's Facebook post giving people the impression that I was dying, I am fine. I am still in a lot of pain since it takes a while for the anti-inflammatory meds to start taking effect, but I should see some improvement by tomorrow morning. I was referred to an orthopedic doctor to see if we can prevent this from happening again.

---

Followup from yesterday's post: Adam saw a surgeon today who scheduled him an appointment for tomorrow. He will be in surgery to get the abscesses drained and the staples removed from his foot that were missed during his last surgery four years ago. After recovery, he should be in a lot less pain.

Getting Tired of Hospitals - OR - (screaming) Oh, Kelly Clarkson

It is time for another installment of our continuing series involving trips to the emergency room with Adam Elliott. I don't plan when these posts are going to happen any more than I can plan when Lindsey Lohan is going to appear in court next. It just happens.

For my regular followers, you already know that Adam has been in the E.R. several times in the last few months. I have written about each one of these visits and they have been some of my most popular posts. So, recognizing what people like to read about (regardless of how disturbing it may be), I decided to share this one as well. Here are the first three if you need to catch up:

• Abscessed Adventures with Adam
• Hop Along Sunday
• Dad, Do You Ever Get That No-So-Fresh Feeling?

I have used an alias for Adam in the last couple of posts in order to save him from the embarrassment caused by the first time I wrote about him. However, somehow people saw past my subtleties and fake names and figured out who I was talking about anyway. So, I will just use his real name. That should prevent any further confusion.

In my first emergency room post, the reason for being there was an abscess that had burst in the middle of the night, causing lots of blood and a huge understandable freak out from Adam. Since this had already happened to him once, he recognized the signs and knew that he was having the same problem again. This time, however, there were four and they were all in the groin area again.

Since we had to DJ for a dance on Saturday night, he decided to get them fixed to prevent them from bursting while working the dance. That would have been a problem. So, we went to the hospital on Friday night.

Please keep in mind that Adam was in a lot of pain and was not in the mood to speak with medical personnel. 

After parking the car and locating the room they placed him in, I witness him impatiently trying to justify to a nurse why he is back again. Explaining again why he doesn't have a regular doctor and describing again why he had his foot amputated. It gets old telling the same stories again and again.

After laying spread eagle on the bed to show the doctor where the problem was, he was advised to go home and take a hot bath. The doctor then chastised us for waiting so long to come in. Adam tried to get him to understand that after having parts of both feet cut off and spending over two weeks in a coma, he has a severe aversion to coming to the hospital at all. The doctor then explained that at midnight on a Friday, the surgeons required to fix this problem are not available and would not come in for so minor a problem.

Adam raised his groin up in the air and exposing the area, yelled, "You mean this is a minor problem! I can hardly move!"

The doctor looked again and hurriedly exclaimed, "Oh, I didn't see that one! We will take care of that right now." He then rushed out of the room.

I was relieved to hear that they were going to take care of this and started to say so, but noticed that Adam was not doing very well.

Now, if you ever want to have someone with you to keep a serious situation light-hearted and maintain a sense of humor to keep you distracted, I am your man. Regardless of the intensity of the moment, the jokes just keep coming. Once, after replacing a friend's calf muscle (true story) and having seen his shin bone from his knee to the ankle, we kept laughing as we struggled to stop the bleeding. We joked as we carried him to the car and kept doing it as we rushed to the hospital. He was even laughing and making jokes. I've been told humor is my defense mechanism. I can't help it.

However, I could quickly tell that Adam was not responding to attempts at humor and definitely was not going to be laughing even if I handed him comedy gold. I attempted to switch to good friend/comforter mode. I am not nearly as good at this.

His body was starting to shake at the thought of what was about to happen. He had experienced horrible pain when the area was even touched and they were about to cut into it. I tried to calm him and help him see how this was going to be worth it and he understood that, but was very scared. After all of his surgeries, he really doesn't like being cut on anymore.

I am not going to go into details as I have in the past, but I will say that I saw the inside of parts of Adam's body that I never even wanted to see the outside of. I stayed in the room for the whole thing as extra weight to sit on him a friend to help keep him calm while they did what they had to do. I learned that Adam has a lung capacity that I did not know was possible. I have heard him scream in pain before, but he launched into a scream that lasted at least a full minute without taking another breath.

They took care of the worst part of it, but now he has to get scheduled for a full surgery to complete it this week. He will be knocked out for his one. We are also going to try to talk them into removing the staples that are still in his foot from his last surgery.

---

I had decided to not write about this one, but Adam insisted. When Adam goes to the ER, my stats explode. I try to make it funny while I tell the story, but usually there are a few things that happen that make it funnier. This visit was not funny. I hated seeing my friend in that much pain and not being able to do anything about it. Hopefully, our future hospital visits will have more comedic value and not be as serious.

Technically, I guess I should be hoping not to have future hospital visits.