I have no idea how to start this blog. I'm sitting here, writing a lot of really dumb opening lines and then just backspacing right over them. Here are some of the stinkers:
"Holidays are a nice time to spend with your family..." RETCH RETCH GAG SPEW.
"Here are a lot of things that happened lately..." BLUCK BLUCKY BLUCK BLUCK.
"Sam continues to work really hard in therapy..." BLAH BLAH BLAH YUCK.
It's a bad sign when I'm having to think too much about what I am saying. And tonight I've been crafting my words into cute little crocheted tissue box covers rather than works of bloglicious art. And not just regular covers, I'm talking multi-colored monstrosities with a rabbit head stuck on the top. And who wants to read the verbal equivalent of crocheted tissue box rabbits? Or ugly afghans. Or even, I don't know, homemade socks or tea pot cozies. Do you even know what I'm talking about. I know, me either. But I digress...
The Last Two Days in Review:
*We are all interviewed by THE NEWS. For a TV SPECIAL. (See blog from December 27th). Sam rocked his part of the interview, other than his first answer to the very first question. Just at that small moment in time, he sounded a little deranged. Here is a direct quote:
Question: Do you remember anything about the night of the accident?
Sam: "I actually remember the occurrence of it. I had a vision and I blinked--and by the fireplace on Easter I saw it all before my eyes." Now I will translate: This is referring to the time that Sam was sitting by the fireplace (on Easter 2006) and had a visual memory of actually going off the road and crashing into the tree. After that point, everything went black. But without that background knowledge, it sounds like he had the accident, he blinked, and then, next thing he knew, he was having visions by the fireplace. On Easter. But that was Sam's only crazy-sounding moment--the rest of the interview was as smooth as something really smooth. Like cream. Or silk. Really smoothy smooth.
*This has nothing to do with Sam's recovery, I just thought it was a pretty funny quote to put on the website. My mom walked into the game/sun/therapy/computer room and said to the three of us, "Kids, be on the lookout for the numchucks. They're around here somewhere." I decided this had to be filed under "Things You Never Think Your Mother Will Say". (The "numchucks", by the way, are actually a Wii game system attachment, NOT the martial art weapon).
*My mom is not very happy about this next little tidbit that I'm going to post, but it is just too funny not to tell the entire world. We got a little "plasma car" for Christmas (this is like one of those little turtle scooters that you would use during gym class, only a little faster and more high tech). We have all the plasma-ing all over the house, the wind blowing through our hair as we travel 1-2 miles per hour. (It feels a lot faster than it looks). Anyway, last night my mom (Sam's nurse) decided it would be a fun idea if she got on the plasma car and sped around the house while Sam chased her in his wheelchair. Sam agreed that this seemed like a totally reasonable way to spend an evening and off they went. My mom, sitting about 3 inches off the floor, legs bent up and out like a grasshopper and hunched forward like an Indy car racer, careening around the kitchen island with Sam close behind. The wind blowing her bangs while sweat starts to bead up, just a little, right above her eyebrows. Sam then leans in for the final stretch, giant feet thumping across the floor as he walks/wheels toward his prey. He starts to close the gap, a foot, six inches, almost got her...and to bridge the last few inches Sam reaches out with his mammoth GoGoGadget arms and...tips, landing on the floor on his hands and knees with his wheelchair strapped to his back. Like a really big turtle. That is, if turtles wore wheelchairs on their back. Don't despair, he was fine (still laughing) and it was actually a very masterful fall--graceful, almost. But if he had been injured how exactly do you explain that in the emergency room. "Well, you see, I was racing on the plasma car and Sam was trying to grab me from behind..." Nope, no kind of explanation really cuts it in this situation. Nada. Nothing you can say would make either my mom or my 20 year old brother look like a mature, sane adult. Nothing. But a least Sam can kind of crunch over, look pathetic and tell them that he can't help it, it must be impulsivity from his frontal lobe injury. I guess my mom would just have to sit here and hide under her coat. That would literally be her ONLY option at that point. When I laughed and told her I was posting this incident A.S.A.P. she got a scared, hunted-animal look in her eyes. "You can't tell people about this, I could be fired." Fired? What? As his mom, or his nurse. Perhaps both. Then she just shrugged her shoulders and said, "What can you do...you have to have some fun in this life." And isn't that the truth.
Bec