I don't get the whole cupcake thing

I never saw an episode of Sex and The City, which is probably why I don't get the cupcake thing.

My sister was hosting an abbreviated family dinner at her house last night ~ our parents, an aunt and uncle, myself and my sister. Six people. This, of course, meant that my sister made enough food to feed a battalion of Marines. Cheese ravioli (three pounds), sausage and peppers, chicken in tomato sauce, corn on the cob. Force of upbringing/habit I asked what I should bring and she asked for salad and bread. Now, when I cook, I cook for the number of people being served... not the 5th Army. I put together a spinach salad and baked a loaf herb bread. This was a bit of a disappointment to my sister. She was seriously worried there wouldn't be enough. I just laughed. There's no point in trying to make her understand she doesn't need to provide enough food to feed Mongolia... all you can do is laugh and shake your head at her insanity. I'm convinced she starved to death in a previous life. And, there was leftover salad and bread.

While baking the bread yesterday morning I did give a thought to dessert. My sister usually provides at least three choices (no, I'm not making this up), so, I figured that since she didn't ask me to bring something, she had the dessert issue covered.

Alas, no.

After I arrived and we started plating the hors d'oeurves (three different cheeses, two kinds of olives, six different varieties of crakers, pepperoni and bruschetta) she suddenly screamed OH SHIT.

No dessert.

Panic attack ensued. I am not exaggerating - complete meltdown. I kept telling her the last thing we needed was more food but she was freaking out because she had forgotten about dessert. I said I'd run to the store and get some ice cream. That wasn't enough. I won't bore you with the slightly demented conversation that took place, but what she wanted me to get was enough dessert for an Italian wedding... on a Sunday afternoon (profiteroles, gelato, cannoli... etc). She then decides she'll go to the bakery and pick up "something". I fully expected her to come back with their delivery truck fully loaded but all she came back with was her own SUV with... cupcakes. At $5 EACH! $60 of cupcakes, all different flavors and colors (and a dozen cannoli and a pound of cookies... only the Italian gods knows why). She then went on, and on, and on, waxing poetic about the wonders and joys of cupcakes. Me, I just heard waa waa wahh waaaa. Tuned her out completely. I cannot believe she spend $60 on cupcakes.

Our parents arrived and, as always, were stunned by the sheer tonnage of food cooking - our aunt and uncle were equally shocked when they arrived. I don't get why though. Gretchen has actually toned down the amount of food she sets out. This wasn't as bad it used to be. We all received leftovers for the week. No, I'm not exaggerating. I have seven containers of ravioli, sausage (with pepppers excluded), and chicken. I refused the insanely overpriced cupcakes took some cookies instead.

My sister needs to work for a food kitchen or feeding the military. As with everything else in her life she goes competely over the top with generosity when feeding people and it makes her happy.

Belated Happy Easter

Peeps are evil.

Dad had yet another proceedure to deal with the clogged arteries on April 5th. It went well, but not as well as the last time. After all he's been through that's not surprising. He has another appointment with the urologist to determine how, and when, they'll be dealing with the bladder issues that came up as a result of his stay in Norwalk hopital. The only good news the urologist has imparted, to date, is that he doesn't have cancer.

I'll take good news where ever I can find it these days.

Gretchen's hard cast came off Friday and she's now in a soft cast, which looks like something the Storm Troopers wore in the original Star Wars, for... a while. No end date so far. She starts physical therapy next Monday.

So, I'm still shuttling between my home, her home, our parents home, every day. It's either getting easier or I'm just getting used to this.

Happy Birthday Dad

Dad finally made it home on Wednesday, March 7. The IV pump should be finished today and he goes back for more testing to make sure the staph is gone.

Fingers crossed.

The catheter remains in place and there is still an alarming amount of blood in his urine - mostly due to the blood thinners he's on. He's back to the urologist tomorrow.

Gretchen's ankle is finally coming back together but she's got another month in the hard cast and then a couple of weeks in a soft cast or brace before physical therapy starts.

I'm tired. I've been listening to a lot of Leonard Cohen in the car over the past couple of weeks. Serendipiously, Elsa has been talking about him recently. Gretchen thinks he's depressing, but then she likes listening to Country and Western, so what does she know? :) Anyway, I've found his stuff oddly soothing for the past couple of weeks.

Unusual Sunday Blogging

Dad may, or may not, be released from prison on Monday. The idiots at Norwalk hospital haven't decided yet. He's responding well to the meds but he's still going to need two to four weeks of IV antibiotics to combat the staph infection. He's opted to go home and not a rehab or nursing facility. I'm not thrilled but it's his (and Mom's) decision to make. There's still no decision on when he'll be able to have the other artery "scraped". The longer they wait the worse the plaque build up, but he's in no condition to have operation for at least a month. Thank you Norwalk Hospital.

The plate my sister had surgically implanted in her ankle, to draw the fibula (tibia? whatever bone opposite the ankle) to the ankle and to secure the tendon was less than successful. The ankle is still disconnected. The doctor is "hoping" that over the next week the plate and screws will do their work and bring the ankle back into place. If not, they have to re-operate.

I've come to the conclusion that the entire medical profession in the United States is comprised of fuckwits. Brainless, heartless, fuckwits.

Mom and I are moving my sister down to Westport today. Centralizing the walking, and non-walking, wounded is essential. We just can't keep up with both of them being in two places 20 miles apart.

~ ~ ~

Clouds marred my viewing of the eclipse last night. I hope you had a better view.

May you live in interesting times.

It's been an interesting week.

Wedneday I went to the funeral of my niece's Aunt Denise. She was 37. Coming home from work last Thursday she slipped on the ice, knocked herself unconscious and died, in her driveway, of hypothermia. Her Mother found her at 6:45 am Friday.

Last Friday, February 16, 2007, my sister calls to say she's broken her ankle by falling on the ice. I spend the rest of the day in the ER with her. The hospital declares she needs surgery, but take her home until Monday 'cause they're not doing surgery at 5:30 pm on a Friday night. This was just the beginning of several WTF coversations I've had all week.

I get the crippled one back to her house, up two flights of stairs, and one of my brother calls. Seems my Dad, who had the plaque scraped out of his arteries in January, had gone numb down the right side of his body. After a six hour car ride to Maine I suggested he not take. Should we take him to the ER? my brother wants to know.

No, no... just let him lie there on the floor until dead, mkay?

Several bizarre and mind-blowing conversations with doctors in Maine, doctors in Connecticut, it's decided that another brother would drive our parents back to Connecticut on Sunday. Both Dad and my sister had doctor's appointments on Monday. Which ended up happening on Thursday instead, because gawdfuckingforbid a doctor bother his/her uselessfuckingarse to tend to a patient. I spent Thursday with Dad at Yale while Mom spent the day with my sister who was having pins and plates put into her ankle.

According to the medical geniuses at Yale, after doing several different scans of both the brain and body, Dad's fine. No problem. He can go home. Most likely a pinched nerve from the driving, that's the ticket. Really, they assure me, he's fine.

So, today, he's in Norwalk Hospital. Numbness down the right side, feels like his head is unattached from his body. Not that he's a having a stroke, they tell me. But they're keeping him for the weekend for observation. Just in case.