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.