By Popular Request

Okay all you anti-Facebook folks. Here are some photos from my trip back east. Enjoy!

Old City Hall is now a Ruth's Chris Steakhouse



















The Omni Parker Hotel--where I stayed and where JFK proposed to Jackie
Random guy who tried to pick up on me and bought a round of drinks for the bar when I suggested (successfully) that the bartenders might have a charger for his dead cell phone.

From the walkway between casinos.


Christmas trees!
Wedding venue!
Paul and Jenny--bride and groom!


Scene from wedding venue
Look at those beautiful windows!
Lindsay and father of the bride
Custom-made wedding topper

Cousin Lindsay and moi
Father of the bride (Dan), sister of the bride (Reagan), mother of the bride (Lindsay), best friend of mom (Elizabeth) and her friend Tom.
After wedding affair at Abigail's
Atlantic Restaurant at Wequasset Inn and Resort on Cape Cod
Marty, me, and Ali
Marty and girlfriend
Ali playing on the car thingy
Ali and Marty showing off their drunk driving skills
The pool at Wequasset
Cottages at Wequasset
More pool
Fire pit at Wequasset
Fog rolls in
Seal! (Not to be confused with Heidi Klum's husband)
The Chatham lighthouse where all the weather reporters set up cameras during Cape Cod storms
Ali and Marty's ADORABLE house!
Me demonstrating Marty's outdoor shower

Is this cute, or what?

Just Call Me A Sucker for Coffee Drink Extravaganzas!

What Does This Say About Me??

First, you need to know that I read the L.A. Times newspaper from cover to cover every day while eating lunch at the office. Very relaxing, very informative. Start with Part I (headline news stuff), then their new "breaking news" edition, followed by Business, Sports, and then Calendar (entertainment).

On Monday, I went through my daily routine, and when I got to the last page of Calendar (which is the TV guide), I paused at the description of that night's episode of The Bachelorette.

Um, huh? Hadn't I already seen this episode? Why would they be repeating it?

That was when I discovered I'd read a week-old newspaper I hadn't had time for the week before.

Shouldn't there have been an earlier clue??

Ah, Yes...Sunny Puerto Vallarta....

Writing? What's That?

Long-time blog readers know I'm one of those people who enjoys HAVING WRITTEN rather than, y'know...the actual process itself. Lately, though, I've been getting the itch again. Maybe 'cuz I got a comp copy in the mail with a story I wrote last year. Or maybe 'cuz I'm starting to get a teensy bit more free time, and I ain't doing nothing constructive with it! (Unless, of course, you count watching endless repeats of America's Next Top Model as a worthwhile endeavor, and hey--I could make the case, if pressed).

Then there's the whole RWA conference thing. MAN, I used to look forward to that every year. I'd come away all inspired and ready to bang out the next best seller--or, at the very least, the next DEBUT--every time. But this year?

Not so much.

Especially since it's in Or-friggin'-lando. Land of the kidlets and human cartoon characters. Do I really wanna spend a precious week of time in 200% humidity and screaming children?

Again. Not so much.

Meanwhile, though, I've been reading. Some pretty good stuff, too! (Although, puh-lease...shouldn't a famous author KNOW better than to include TWO THUNDERSTORMS--weeks apart--in a book set in HOLLYWOOD? HA! Those east coast people always get southern California wrong.

Anyway, so that's where I'm at right now, writing-wise. Mulling ideas over...wondering whether to go back to the WIP I was working on when Life so unceremoniously interrupted (or maybe ERUPTED is the more accurate term). Maybe something new.

Maybe nothing at all.

When does the new season of America's Top Model start...?

Father's Day

Hard to believe that this time last year, they were both still with us.

Welcome, Facebookers

Yes, I shamelessly sent my Facebook friends to my blog in order to answer the burning question: Did Randy Get Married?

HA!

You faithful blogreaders know better than that, right? No, the story's a bit more interesting. You see, that's my mother's wedding ring. My real mother--the one who died when I was nine. For some never-explained reason, my stepmom's been wearing it on her right hand for the past 40-something years. I never asked why. I mean, my father must've given it to her to wear, right? Was it an homage of some sort?

Anyway, Annie's hands have become too arthritic. It doesn't fit anymore. So during a conversation with sister-in-law Polly about jewlery, she suddenly disappeared into the bedroom, returning with The Ring. The one she'd probably planned to give me on the occasion I brought some nice young man home and announced my engagement.

Too bad it never happened, huh? Long wait!

According to Annie, the center diamond was my mom's engagement ring. The two smaller diamonds (not equal in size) on either side were from my grandmother's. (Maybe. I'm not sure she has that part of the story right.)

It fits better on my left hand, but don't worry. I'm not that stupid. When I'm out and about, I squeeze it onto my right lest I scare all those eligible bachelors away (although, yeah...I'm quite aware that married "cougars" are in hot demand).

Gee, ya think I need a manicure? Those nails aren't shaped that way--they're just so long, they're curving around. Hey, who has time for appointments? I'm too busy running the family business.

Only In Hidden Hills

Yes, my children. That's a golf cart in front of me, tooling along at the rate of one mile an hour as a miniature horse trots along on each side, tethered by a leash to the unseen occupants of the cart. Guess that's ONE way to exercise your animals....

Getting to Know Your Droid

Not sure I would've chosen "Droid" as the name for a phone. Just try putting a "hem" in front of it and you'll see what I mean.

Anyway, so naturally I haven't read the instructions. They might have come in handy when I tried taking pictures at the reunion last weekend. Oh, well. So what if they're a little yellow? Yellowed with age, I guess!
Me and Mike Miller (Class of '70)
Yvette Jespersen Robertson
Sean and Sally (Feeney) Conroy
Carol Copsey and Martha McGroarty
Carol Copsey, Jim Hagopian, Salley Powell
Anne Loftin, Melody Maddock

A Blur of Faces, Names...Shared Histories

As a service to those not on Facebook, I've shamelessly stolen photos to upload from last weekend's Agoura High School Reunion. Enjoy. (P.S. They're tiny--I guess because they're filched.)
Debi Williams, Randy Bruskrud
Gilbert Yablon, Carol Copsey, Jim Hagopian
John Votjek
Sally Feeny, Andi Horowitz
Melissa North, Tamy Hagy
Mr. Miller
Ann Loftin, Melody Maddock
Jim Hagopian, Sally Feeny
Martha McGroarty
Yvette Jespersen
Bonnie Chorney, Cathy Reuter, Cyndi Modlin, Sally Feeny, Tina Greggs, Melissa North
Jeff Chamberlain, Georgeann Nichol, Cyndi Modlin
Randy Bruskrud, Mike Miller

New Post, New Blog

Yeah, for someone who's posting infrequently at best, you may be wondering why I've created yet another blog.

It's the economy, stupid.

(Ha. A little crack at Hillary.)

Anyway, so Engineer Matt and I were discussing ways to drive more traffic to the company website, and you know me. The only thing I know how to do is create a blog. So, voila.

Besides, Matt knows more about the tech side of stuff than I. In fact, he can actually write about it. (Which he plans to do in the very near future.)

Not sure if he's posted yet, but check it out anyway. Click this link here.

Doesn't It Figure?

So after all of last year's traveling woes...cancellation upon cancellation...dollar upon dollar lost...I figured it was safe to come out and play again. Made a reservation for the upcoming RWA conference in July.

Um...maybe I'm some sort of curse??

Click here to see what I mean.

Random Thoughts on My Current TV Viewing Habits

Survivor is having its BEST SEASON EVER. Russell and Parvati have executed maneuvers you'd have to see to believe.

I can watch a marathon of America's Next Top Model even though I've seen the whole damn season six times before.

Two And A Half Men and The New Adventures of Old Christine make good sleeping pills. (Don't know why, cuz I actually enjoy both shows.)

DVR is everything people kept telling me it was.

Chelsea Lately (aka Chelsea Handler) gets away with saying stuff NO ONE else says on TV. (P.S. For some reason, her relationship with Chuy kinda gives me the creeps.)

The Housewives of (fill in the city here) are ample proof that money doesn't buy happiness...or class (I'm looking at YOU, Countess)...and that age and maturity don't necessarily go hand-in-hand.

Dancing With The Stars has a pacing problem. Can't watch.

American Idol still grabs me, although it's lacking the wow factor this year.

Desperate Housewives gets better and better.

Sad but true. I need Tiger in my televised golf tournaments.

TMZ's Harry Levin hit gold with his creation, but for some reason I wouldn't be surprised to see him show up as the unwitting participant on To Catch A Predator.

I could watch Bravo 24/7, reruns and all. (Does this make me gay??)

Project Runway was better before it went to Lifetime.

HBO has given up its "original series" dominance to Showtime.

Must. Get. Showtime. (So I can watch the Altered States of Tara more often.)

Of all the reality shows, I think I'd do best on Big Brother but Amazing Race looks like a lot more fun.

Those Jersey people should be put out of OUR misery.

Another Life Goes On Post

Hard to believe some people still check my blog every day, especially since I've been less-than-prolific of late. Once in awhile, I even get a call or an email asking how I'm doing because the blog had always been a source of info up until last summer.

Anyway, so yeah. Here it is. I'm alive and well, and...oh, wow...just checked the calendar, and tomorrow it will have been EIGHT WEEKS since my surgery. Seems like only yesterday...

When last checked, my right lung still wasn't 100%. Maybe that's why I don't feel any different from the way I felt pre-surgery. No more energy, no less. Well, sometimes less but I suppose that's just because they cut me open, put me on the heart-lung bypass machine, and...y'know...did all manner of unkind things to my body. Still...I'm jealous of the people on the valve forum who report they "haven't felt this good in years." Or, maybe I'm being greedy? Today I had an echocardiogram. Hopefully, the results will show lots of good stuff.

This past weekend, I went to Vegas (yay!) and was shocked when a minimal jaunt between the Flamingo and Harrah's resulted in aching thighs and calves. And, NO--I wasn't in my customary 4-inch heels--this was in FLATS. {Shudder} I'm TOTALLY out-of-shape, it appears.

So a new commitment to my ever-lovin' treadmill--which, by the way--now resides in my extra bedroom where there's no TV. I'm forced to listen to music on my computer. Yesterday, I walked for five songs worth.

It's still difficult to schedule things since I try to spend as much time with Annie as possible. I hate to think of her being alone, yet I'm not willing to give up my independence entirely.

Meanwhile, life goes on. I've booked a trip to Nashville for the annual romance writers' conference even though I'm not writing at all. Maybe it'll get me fired up again, who knows? In any event, it's always a good excuse to see a part of the US I've never been to. Plus, I get to pal around with old friends Brooke and Elizabeth, so I'm looking forward to it.

There's still so much in my head that I could go on and on about--plenty of fodder for the blog, you might say--but it feels too personal. Hell, I don't confide most of my thoughts aloud to my friends and family, so why would I do it here?

Yet, despite how this entry is probably coming off, be assured I've held on to my positive attitude. I mean, what else can I do, really?

Life didn't make any promises...and I learned at a young age...ya gotta roll with the punches.

Ow.

In Writing News...

Yes, faithful blog readers...remember when I used to fancy myself a writer...??

Well, the last thing I wrote before my whole world went to hell was a story for True Romance. In fact, I submitted it on April 29, 2009 --which I happen to know because I checked my "sent" file.

After that, nada.

Not even on my book-length project which, when last mentioned, was the recipient of a 3-chapter critique from Jessica Faust at Bookends Literary.

Flash forward. And I mean FORWARD...Crap, almost a year!

This week I received both a contract for the True Romance story AND Jessica's critique. Uh, I guess you can chalk this up to the good news/bad news category. Yay about the contract, but Ms. Faust's critique was less-than-stellar. She said that overall my writing was good but that she didn't think I was executing things in the way I should (I'm paraphrasing.) And she TOTALLY misinterpreted my little "women's joke" that starts off the story. Sigh.

In health news, I'm doing fine...feeling more normal every day although most of the time my right boob aches like a sonuvabitch. S'okay. I'll take that ANY DAY over an aching sternum.

One of these days--when I get a breather, HA--I'll write more about the experience. Oh, and post pictures.

I know.

You can hardly wait, huh?

Rest In Peace, Daddy

Off we go into the wild blue yonder,
Climbing high into the sun;
Here they come zooming to meet our thunder,
At 'em boys, Give 'er the gun! (Give 'er the gun now!)
Down we dive, spouting our flame from under,
Off with one heckuva roar!
We live in fame or go down in flame.
Hey! Nothing'll stop the U.S. Air Force!

Minds of men fashioned a crate of thunder
Sent it high into the blue
Hands of men blasted the world asunder,
How they lived God only knew!
Souls of men dreaming of skies to conquer
Gave us wings ever to soar,
With scouts before and bombers galore, Hey!
Nothing'll stop the US Air Force!

Here's a toast to the host of those
Who love the vastness of the sky,
To a friend we send a message
Of his brother men who fly.
We drink to those who gave their all of old,
Then down we roar
to score the rainbow's pot of gold.
A toast to the host of men we boast, the US Air Force.

Zoom!

Off we go into the wild sky yonder,
Keep the wings level and true!
If you'd live to be a grey-haired wonder,
Keep your nose out of the blue! (Out of the blue, boy!)
Flying men guarding the nation's border,
We'll be there, followed by more,
In echelon we carry on! Hey!
Nothing'll stop the US Air Force!

Warren Revland Bruskrud 10-1-22 -- 3-20-10

High Flight

Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings.
Sunward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hovering there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air,
Up, up the long delirious burning blue.
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark or even eagle flew;
And while with silent uplifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand and touched the face of God.

Buh-Bye Aortic Valve, Hello Mooooooooooooo

Two weeks ago tomorrow, can ya believe it?? How time flies! Yes, two weeks ago, they wheeled me through what felt like "backstage on the set of Grey's Anatomy." Only it was real life.

Strangely, I wasn't frightened (okay, maybe there was something already in my IV), but then they didn't give me very much time to get scared. My anesthesiologist (both charming and handsome in his turban) said something like, "ta-ta," and I remember feeling first one wave, then a second, then nothing.

Until I woke up with that damn tube down my throat.

Okay, I'd REALLY tried to prepare for this. I knew not to panic, I knew they wouldn't left me suffocate.

And I knew it'd be in for HOURS.

Luckily, I don't remember the specifics of this period--only that I kept thinking it was so much worse than I'd imagined. So. Much.

What I DO remember is that the nurses would ask if I was in pain, and I'd shake my head no, thinking, ASK THE RIGHT QUESTION.

Now, I'm not sure WHAT the right question was, but eventually, friend Kathleen (who held my hand the ENTIRE time), said: "Do you feel like you're choking?"

YES, I nodded.

At that point, I guess they suctioned me, or something, and then...(sorry about this)...I vomited. Well! At least I felt better after that!

The only other glaring memory of this special moment in time was my extreme desire to moisten my mouth. Finally, once they yanked the tube (after four hours), Kath was able to give me ice chips.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. My new BFF!!!!!! (In fact, I overdid it a bit and threw up again, but oh well.)

Anyway, this all occurred in the ICU and I don't remember much else except for how peaceful it was there, and how nice and professional the staff was. In the middle of the night, I could look through a small window and see one of the nurses at her desk, and it was so comforting!

More tomorrow...

P.S. My everlasting (and I mean EVERLASTING) thanks to Kath, Ann, and Polly for being there that Thursday. Hugs to you, my angels!

Foiled Again

Is anyone sensing a pattern here?

Doc's office called at 4 this afternoon and canceled. Stay tuned.

If It's Tuesday, This Must Be Belgium

It was a movie, folks. Starring Suzanne Pleshette. Look it up, if you don't remember.

So, the movie's apropos of nothing except the new date for which my surgery is scheduled.

Next Tuesday, March 2nd.

Gulp. Gag. Shudder.

I hesitate to blast this news across the blogsphere, cuz...well, like, ya never know. Things can always change. For instance, tomorrow when I report in (for the second time) at the pre-registration soiree, the nurse may hear me hack (and/or wheeze) and decide my doc's scheduling person is nuts. (I mean, isn't it kind of important to be breathing properly when you have surgery?) Oh, well. Maybe by Tuesday.

Tuesday...................

Voicemails You Really Don't Wanna Hear on Your Cell

"Hi, Randy. We're just following up to see how you're feeling and to tell you we've tentatively rescheduled you for Thursday."

Um, no...I don't think so. Let me stop hacking first....

Postponed!

Wouldn't you know?? I get all psyched up for tomorrow's surgery....then wake up with a raspy throat on Saturday...followed by a slight cough on Sunday...followed by full-blown (note the pun) runny nose this morning.

Went to my 9:30 pre-registration appt this morning anyway, but as soon as I told the nurse about my cold, she summoned the "cardiac coordinator." She in turn tried contacting my surgeon's office but (hello!! holiday!!!), they were incommunicado. So then she called my doctor's cell phone. Found him on the ski slopes somewhere. (Um, seriously?? Ski slopes today, my HEART at 7 a.m. the next??)

He quickly instructed the nice coordinator lady to cancel me. Said we'd reschedule later.

Yeah, and maybe he gets another day on the slopes. Me? I'm in bed with a 100 degree temp that's rising.

Doesn't it just figure??

No Date Yet

For those who keep asking, the answer is: NO. I still don't have the date of my upcoming surgery. But I'm pretty sure it'll be the week of February 15th...um...which is only a little more than a week away. Ya think I should start preparing....? Or should I just continue pretending I don't have to do it??

In other news, my dad (who fell last week and fractured hip) is being moved from the hospital to a nursing/rehab facility today.

Onward and upward, eh?

Eek! Not Yet!

The good news (well, I GUESS it's good news) is that I got approval for less-invasive-guy (AKA Surgeon No. 2) at better-hospital-place (AKA St. Joseph's in Burbank). Hard to believe this went so smoothly after all the trouble I went to just to get the consult approval.

So here we are.

What's next?

Uh, I guess I have to actually schedule the, y'know...SURGERY.

I managed to punch the numbers on the phone and eventually got put through to the surgery scheduling person, a woman who sounded especially harried and busy. After I'd identified myself, she reported that yes, they'd just received their copy of the authorization but that she hadn't spoken to the surgeon yet.

"Are you on blood thinners?" she asked.

"Nope."

"Then, depending on the availability of the anesthesiologist, I think we'll be able to put you on the schedule for next week."

"WHOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Okay, I didn't really screech that, but I may have made a similar sound. And then I added that I wasn't quite, er, ready.

"When were you thinking you'd like to do this?"

Did I detect a slightly smirky tone...? As in, you'll do this whenever the surgeon can you fit you in?

No. Probably just me being a little sensitive. In any case, I offered up the third week in February (right after I get all our company insurance renewed, please--and the rest of my life, like, ORGANIZED) and she seemed to think that would work out.

Gack.

Other Sides Heard From

Hey, people...remember who you're dealing with here. Queen of Wishy-wash. Devil's Advocate Extraordinaire. A woman with the ability to talk herself INTO...and OUT OF almost anything.

Which is why a couple incoming emails threw me into schizoid territory this week. Well-meaning votes for the traditional sternotomy instead of the less invasive approach.

Gah.

Decided it was time for extreme measures. Yes, I actually registered as a bona fide member at valvereplacement.com. And posed a question to fellow members who've gone through the "portal access" procedure...How, I asked, did you justify it to yourself in face of the arguments made against it?

Meanwhile, I'm checking on the status of my referral request. So far, I've been on hold for thirty-five minutes...and counting....

The Rain Don't Stay On the Plain

Storm Watch 2010

It's raining kitties and bow-wows, folks.

We Have A Winner!

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Barring unforeseen circumstances, the guy in this picture will be doing the slicing and dicing. That is, if Health Net doesn't try to make my life miserable.

And, no...I didn't pick him based on looks. Shame on you. Perish the thought.

(Wink)

Not For The Squeamish

Option 1.
Option 2.
Seems like a no-brainer, doesn't it??

What NOT To Say

Here's a sweet exchange which occurred at a Bat Mitzvah I recently attended whereupon I encountered many old "friends."

Old "Friend": "I hear you need a heart valve replacement."

Me: "Sucks, doesn't it?"

Old "Friend": "Are you still smoking?"

Me (shrugging sheepishly): "Yes."

Old "Friend" (with a dismissive wave of the hand): "Then I don't feel sorry for you."

Isn't that nice? I think I mumbled something defensive about it being a congenital defect, not effected by smoking, and that in fact, my arteries are CLEAR, but I imagine the din of the party drowned out my protest.

I may never speak to this old "friend" again.

Title Change?

In the old days, you'd be guessing this post might be about changing the title of a manuscript.

Ah...the old days.

Nope. Today I'm referring to how I should maybe change this to Randy Writes About Her Heart Valve Replacement. Talk about a catchy title, huh?

Anyway, it occurs to me that not everyone's on Facebook (where from time to time I drop a brief update on the progress I'm making toward heart surgery). Indeed, I hear frequently from readers who wonder where my blog has gone.

With that in mind, here's a quick recap:

After nephew Brian (without experiencing ANY symptoms) discovered SEVEN blocked arteries, I figured I'd better get checked out myself. Saw a cardiologist in September who wasn't happy with my heart murmur. More tests in October confirmed "severe aortic stenosis" or, in other words, badass narrowing of the aortic valve. Prescription: Aortic Valve Replacement (better known as AVR).

Next test was an angiogram (I believe I posted a picture of my hospitalized self on the blog somewhere) during which it was determined my arteries were clear, so no need to tack on Coronary Bypass Surgery to the AVR. Yay for small miracles.

Consulted a surgeon and got the low-down, but meanwhile did some research on my own. Something called Less Invasive Surgery sounded mucho appealing, but how to go about making it happen?

Ah...that's when "possible surgery in November" turned into the interminable wait. Without going into boring detail, let's just say it takes a Ph.D. to navigate the complicated terrain of health insurance, and I ain't got no Ph.D.

Cutting to the chase...I saw a second surgeon yesterday, one who does indeed do a less invasive procedure. Oh, wait. Let's back up for the uninitiated. Traditional AVR is where they hack your sternum down the middle, spread your ribcage open, and have at it.

Hence the interest in "less invasive."

As opposed to ripping your chest hope, the surgeon makes a smaller incision above the breast and goes through the ribs.

Ouch, no matter how you slice it. (Ha. Slice it. I crack myself up.)

Anyway, here's the dilemma: yeah, surgeon guy number two CAN and WILL do the "less invasive," but is it his first choice?

Uh, no.

Basically, his point was: Why not make it as easy as possible for the surgeon to do his job?

Hm.

Bottom line...more to think about--but not much time for it since yesterday's guy gave the impression that I need to get this accomplished sooner rather than later. ("Really? You're not having problems with passing out?")

Decisions, decisions...long time blog readers know I SUCK at making decisions!

Stay tuned....

I Could Get Used to Seeing This....

Snapped with a cellphone as I stood in the living room of a condo my sister-in-law and I own in Pacific Beach. Tragically, the interior view is not as pretty...but it will be once we're done renovating!!

Mariachi Christmas with the Bay and Scopaz Family

Christmas 2009

Evan and the Mariachis

Hm. Is it me, or does this video lack...er...SOUND?

UPDATED: Yeah, well...it helps to turn up the volume.

Treat Yourself

Honey, It's All Downhill From Here

Teen actress Dakota Fanning was crowned Homecoming Countess (what the hell's up with countess, anyway?) at Campbell Hall Episcopal School on a recent weekend.Flash back to 1967...Same school...

and yep. That's me in all my Homecoming Queen glory. Okay, so it was only a junior high then. And sure the crown was made from cardboard. But at least I was a Queen, not just a measly countess.

Always In Our Hearts

Blanche, Bob and Bruck (my dad)

Earlier this year, I had a very unique Google experience. My father, a WWII pilot, asked me to see if I could confirm the precise date on which his best friend had been killed during the war. Armed with just a name, I clicked on a link that took me to a page containing photographs of a cemetery. Specifically, a young man stood next to a cross. Knowing Google, I wasn’t sure of the significance−if any. There wasn’t a visible name on the cross and, at best, I figured a random American had taken the picture to honor the nameless dead.

I continued my search, but I kept going back to that page...until, suddenly, my mouse hovered in just the right place and I saw that the picture had a title−Robert B. Pfusch by Chris Yunker.

Still a random American?

Maybe not.

Somehow I contacted Mr. Yunker (via his flickr account, I think) and told him why I was writing. Sure enough, he replied immediately with the news that Robert B. Pfusch was his grandfather and that he would forward my email to his mother.

I was rather blown away since I’d assumed Mr. Pfusch had died without having children.

Soon, I had an email from Bobbie, the daughter who was born six months after her father was killed overseas. She asked if my father had known her dad well.

In reply, I wrote her a lengthy letter of what I knew, including the fact they’d been fraternity brothers back in North Dakota. When she read my response, she realized that my dad was the man in her parents’ wedding photograph−their best man. She said she cried throughout my letter.

What followed was a back-and-forth correspondence between two daughters of WWII vets−one who never knew her father and one who was exceedingly grateful to have had so many years with hers.

On this day that we honor our veterans, I’d like to pay special tribute to Robert B. Pfusch and the sacrifice he made so many years ago.

He is not forgotten.

Happy NaNo

It's that time of year again...National Novel Writing Month, more fondly known as NaNoWriMo. Yes, I signed up again. No, I don't expect to finish since (God willing) I'll be getting that pesky heart surgery scheduled by the end of November.

In the meantime, BICHOK, folks. (Butt in chair, hands on keyboard.)

For Those of You Not on Facebook...

Here's a couple choice photos of moi from last Saturday night. Go, Octomom! I won a ribbon and a Starbucks gift card for "most original." I think it was the cooler of frozen embryos (chocolate covered ice cream treats) that really propelled me to the win. Or maybe it was the introductory phrase, "Hi, I'm Octomom. As you can see" (gesturing toward crotchal area) "I've got babies coming out the wazoo." And yes, that's a test tube I used for a wine glass.

Ah, Halloween. What a nice distraction from heart valves and surgical procedures!

In Case I Decide on a Pig Valve...

...I'm taking applications for donors...here are two that I received Saturday night.

Moo? Oink? Click?

Them's my choices, folks.

Okay, I lied about the pig. That one wasn't offered. And the preponderance of guilt lies with the clicker.

Click click click.

And while it's clicking away, let me just run and get my protime numbers tested for all that Coumadin I'll have to take for the rest of my life.

Not an appealing option.

Speaking of unappealing options, how about that traditional surgery whereby the doc rips my sternum down the middle?

Yep, that's the recommendation.

Methinks it's time to entertain serious alternatives. I mean, they exist. Why can't I have them??

A Mutant In the Family

That's what I feel like today. I mean, think about it. I'm the FIRST Bruskrud EVER to come out of an angiogram with a report of NO BLOCKED ARTERIES.

Yeah, I'm still fanning myself.

Don't get me wrong--I'm still headed for heart surgery, but with only one item on the menu. AND (keeping ALL fingers crossed) there's a chance I'll be able to have a less invasive technique--y'know, one that doesn't include ripping my sternum in half.

Sigh. BONUS.

Anyway, so I broke my cherry yesterday, hospitalwise. My first "johnnie," my first, admission bracelet, and yes...my first bedpan. Guess it all had to happen sooner or later, huh?

Mostly I was BORED having to lie in bed for 5 hours. (Thanks, balloon boy, for providing the entertainment!) So, naturally, I took the opportunity to snap a pic.

This is what a woman with clear arteries looks like!

Who's In Charge?

Facing surgery and its concomitant hospital stay brings home the indisputable fact that I lack a bunch of familial branches to the tree. Namely, something called a husband. Or even a significant other. Let's not even mention the absence of children or (gulp)--since I'm chronologically old enough--grandchildren.

Oh, I've got parents, but geez. I'm currently taking care of them.

And there's my sister-in-law, but she's had enough experience with antiseptic-smelling waiting rooms to last a life time.

Hence, I'm kinda winging it. Here a friend, there a friend, everywhere a friend, friend. Ha.

I mean, doesn't someone have to be in charge of me once I enter those double doors?

And what about when I get out? Thursday is just the angiogram--an outpatient procedure--and I've had to make lists and schedules as though I were taking off on a three-week cruise.

Let the fun begin....

Huge Sigh....

My cousin (second? third? two or three times removed??) posted this on Facebook yesterday. It's where she friggin' LIVES.

Update

Just as I thought this whole mess might turn out to be a figment of my imagination, I got the call from Ashley at my doctor's office. Report in at 5:30a.m. next Thursday, she says. (Eeek. Let's all appreciate the ungodliness of that hour for a moment, shall we?) Anyway, yada yada. Angio at 7:30. Don't eat, don't drink, have someone available to drive you home and....

DON'T DRIVE FOR FIVE FRIGGIN DAYS.

Uh, hello? What the hell?

Turns out they put some sorta plug in your groin (there's a pretty thought) after the procedure, and the motion of stepping on and off between the brake and the gas might disturb the little sucker.

Okay, this news means I'm gonna have to do some fine-tuning of, y'know, my LIFE.

A Tip For Us Seniors

People? When you hit the big 5-0 (and maybe even the lesser known 4-0), I've got four words for ya:

BUY THE TRIP INSURANCE.

Let's recap, shall we?

April - Puerto Vallarta for five days. Swine flu swept in and took my $1200 with it. (Let the record show, I wouldn't have allowed the little cooties to screw up my vacation, but since the bars were closed...)

June - Portland, Oregon. Canceled weekend visit with relatives when Daddy went into the hospital. Monetary loss: about $150. I think I have another $150 toward a trip sometime in the next year.

July - Washington, D.C. for the annual writer's conference I attend. Had to cancel when...well...all that crap hit the fan. Monetary loss: $450 for the conference and then (get this) I had to pay $150 to recoup the frequent flyer miles I'd used for the $5 airline ticket.

September - The Corque Hotel in Santa Ynez. Canceled after the deadline when I discovered my ticker could explode at any moment. $150.

More advice? Don't book any future trips with me.

Writing progress....

In writing news, hey--did I ever get around to posting about the contest I won? Hm. Maybe not. Guess I could scroll down my site to check, but I'm too lazy. Anyway, back before life skidded to halt, flipped over, and rolled a couple times (figuratively speaking, of course), Jessica Faust and Kim Leonetti at Bookends Literary, held a pitch contest on their twitter pages. Perfect right? Pitch your idea in the miserably few number of characters Twitter allows? So I did. I pitched my current WIP...and I won a 3-chapter critique from Jessica! How utterly cool is that?

Then the shit hit the fan, and I became (cough) otherwise engaged. Shot off an email to Ms. Faust, begging for time and she graciously gave me until October first. Next thing I knew, three months had flown by so I sent in the three chapters this past Wednesday night.

I have to say, hitting "send" nearly made me feel like I was back in the writing game.

Time To Start Blogging Again?

Hm. Dunno. Anyone still out there? Huh? Bueller?

For those of you out of the loop, I'm currently looking at heart surgery. Am thinking, should I blog this episode of my life? Do I have the energy? At least I could use ye here blog as a repository for info, I guess.

To wit, here's the update of the day:

Just to keep you updated, I did the treadmill test today. I was scared to death!! Especially when they tell you stuff like, "well, the reason you couldn't eat for six hours before the test is because in case you have to go straight to surgery, you need to be on an empty stomach." Yikes! By the time I finally stood up (after waiting and waiting on the table) to take the treadmill, I was a bit dizzy just from nerves. Then they give you all these instructions about 'tell us if you have pain here or pain there or you're dizzy or you're short of breath etc. etc'--I was afraid I wouldn't remember them all! So, of course, I'm doing as instructed--staring straight ahead--at this picture (kind of Monet-esque) of trees with all these leaves, and I swear to God, the LEAVES were making me dizzy! I almost told them to stop the test; I truly thought I was having the reaction that would send me to surgery. And then I got it together, focused on my own reflection in the glass, and was fine. It wasn't one of those tests where they just keep ratcheting up the incline and speed (whew, thank God), they had a target rate programmed in. That comforted me. I only had to walk for six minutes and I made it to the end. (Yay)

She said my "capacity for exercise" was slightly diminished, and I thought...only slightly?? Well, hey! Bring on the margaritas!

Okay, but bottom line, she DID say, yeah...I have to have this valve replacement but it's not a matter of TOMORROW; more like within the next couple of months and, to tell you the truth, this was the best news I could have heard.

There's still the issue of the other arteries--she basically said they're probably screwed cuz it all goes hand-in-hand, but oh well. So I'll do the one-stop shopping thing. I gather that the reasoning is, why do stents when you're gonna have the heart available for bypass? (Ugh. Did I just type BYPASS?)

Anyway...I guess I must have done a good SELL to my parents over the phone cuz they practically high-fived me when I got there. (Not sure if they misunderstood something, but oh well!)

After the appointment, I picked up some fancy new lipsticks, had lunch on the patio of my favorite restaurant with one of my best friends, and well...life is GOOD at the moment!!

This Just In...

...Life DOES go on...

Ah, The Good Life

Sometimes ya gotta pretend like things don't suck, and boating on a Sunday afternoon is one of the ways to do that.

Tony and Sue--our Captain and his first mate.

So Wrong

Last night, exactly one month after my previous post, I re-read what I'd written on June 30th.

The good news is that both are going to get better.

I was wrong. So tragically wrong.

After improving for six days, things went to hell and my brother died a week later. Meanwhile, my father is undergoing treatment for a tumor on his spine. Not sure a remedy exists to cure his breaking heart--nor how much "better" he'll ever be.

Life has taken a huge u-turn, but I'm coping.

And, at this point, I'm finished blogging about it.