"Froggie Bloggie" ... with a Doggie Prologue(y)

A few weeks ago my brand spanking new 6TB drive that I was going to use as my day-to-day drive holding my photos and graphics decided to tell me that it needed to be reformatted to work. Hmmmm ... not a good sign ....

Tried a few data recovery methods to recover all my data on the drive ... but my heart was not in it. There was almost 2TB of data - most of which I had backed up (thank the heavens above!) a week previously - so I was not going to go to heroic or expensive measures to recover the data - not much lost.

And what I had lost, I could go back to the sites where I had downloaded the (mainly) graphics and recover it - just a few hours of busy work ... nothing that I couldn't handle and then I would be good as new.

Back to where I started from.


~~~ EXCEPT ~~~

For my froggy photos!!!

I went outside one evening - I had left the patio light on which attracts bugs - therefore attracts those things that eat bugs - and a big froggy was just sitting there enjoying himself immensely! I was worried that Charlie would frighten him off as I went to get my camera - but he only turned his head and looked at Charlie who was sneaking up on him with a slightly cocked head as if wondering "Friend or Foe?"

Which is an improvement from our first Boxer, Chance. He LOVED, LOVED, LOVED frogs! He LOVED to suck on frogs! Yes, you heard me right HE SUCKED ON FROGS. I am really unsure how he actually coaxed them into his mouth - never seeing that part of his ritual, just the rest of it. Generally it was a surprise when he walked over and spit a slimy frog out on your lap, at your feet, where ever.

I must interject here (veering further and further off course, give me a minute - I will re-align myself shortly ...) that this was 100% preferable to when he would spit out wasps in and about your area. They seemed less ... shall we say 'mellow' about the whole 'I've-Just-Been-In-A-Dogs-Mouth' experience and would sting the first soft piece of flesh it encountered. The family soon learned to scatter quickly when Chance brought us gifts of slimy wasps ...

Frogs on the other hand just looked, well ... slimy startled and bug eyed ... but isn't that sort of generally how frogs look in the first place? No worse for wear and with no retaliation of any sort they would just hop away ... generally rather quickly.

Chance, after spitting the frog out, would act bizarre and froth at the mouth for some time. DUDE WAS GETTING HIGH OFF OF FROGS! What part of the frog got Chance high, I am unsure - a secretion on their skin, a secretion on their skin that is produced when they are frightened, by, oh - say thinking that they are being eaten by a dog, their eyeball juice ... I don't know but was up there on the list of the weird things that our dog Chance would do. Which, sadly, out of the dogs that we have had over the years - wasn't really all that weird ...

Chance was the modicum of normalcy when it comes to dogs and weirdness! He never ate an entire couch. He never ate a hole through a flat spot of a wall (I can sort of see a eating a corner, but how do you even BEGIN the hole on a flat part of a wall to begin with?). He never swore at us in Norwegian - and trust me - when Charlie swears at you in Norwegian - we are not talking about barks or growls here - we are talking about seriously angry doggy speak, so most definitely know it! Chance never did any of the oh, so many things our other dogs have managed to do while living with us.

*sigh*

Chance was a good dog ...

OK, OK, trip down doggy memory lane over.

Back to the frog outside! I grabbed my large Canon and medium camera and went back outside, thrilled to find that my new best buddy had not moved an inch!

It was dark, so I was using a flash. Unsure if this was going to scare the adorable guy away, I tried to make my first shot count - since it might have been my last. Framed the shot, dude totally ignoring me the entire time and took my photo.

He blinked, turned and looked at me like: "Go away, I'm meditating here ..."

But I just kept taking photos, each one with a flash and he kept ignoring me!

He was sort of Buddha looking with his big belly and he had this thing going on with his throat where he would blow it up and make it look like a big bubble, then collapse it, blow it up, collapse ... probably part of him finding his zen ...

Wanting a closer shot - I kept creeping up closer and closer - and getting lower and lower - trying to get a better shot of his belly and puffy throat thingy. This was an awkward position so I yelled at Gary out working in the garage that if I yelled in a minute that I had fallen and couldn't get up - to come save me and slowly got down on the concrete - first in a sitting position, then just scooted over a ways and lay down on my side.

Froggy, during all this was watching closely, be seemingly unconcerned - maybe having reached a his state of nirvana - didn't really care about what was going on around him. I was rather surprised that he still had not moved since I had started taking photos of him. A PERFECT froggy model!

Sat my large camera down flat on the ground about 12 inches in front of him and maneuvered my head and body so that I could see though the eyepiece - focus on him and at that angle I was getting his belly straight on with him looking straight at the camera - I HAD A GEM OF A SHOT! Giddy with excitement I held down the shutter button half way - and sure enough - the red dot showed up on his adorable Buddha belly and that wonderful 'beep' saying it was in focus and 'snap'! Photo taken!

I was thrilled! I knew it was a keeper and as it flashed up on the back screen I had my suspicions validated - WHAT A FROGGY PHOTO!!! Have I mentioned that I love frogs? Love, love, love them! I personally think they are one of the MOST ADORABLE CUTEST THINGS ON THE PLANET!

And now I had a lovely perfect photo of 'Buddha Froggy'!

Looked up from my perfect photo rejoicing to see that my buddy had hopped about a foot away from me and had turned so that I was getting his profile.

"Wait! Please, please - just a few more shots of your cute belly!"

And with that he hopped about two more feet away from me still lying on my side with my camera sitting on the concrete.

I grumbled and mumbled and finally got myself back up, picked up my camera and off he went again a couple of more feet and behind a garbage can. Sadly - no coaxing would get him to turn and let me take a few more shots like the last one.

But - in a rare 'I'm a glass half-full type of gal' moment, I realized that I HAD THAT ONE SHOT! That lovely, perfect, Buddha shot! Went inside, loaded it onto my computer and clicked on it to bring it up on my large monitor and

JOY!


IN FOCUS!


EVERY DETAIL CRISP, CLEAR AND SHARP!


And THE CUTEST LITTLE BUDDHA FROGGY PHOTO EVER!


I was already composing my frog blog, but it was late, I had other things that had to be done so I cleaned up my camera cards - clearing the photos off, putting them back in my cameras so that they would be 'at the ready' should another opportunity like this arose quickly like this evening. Finished up, went to bed and in the morning arose to a 'Format Drive' message on my external hard drive.

*sigh*

Yeah - CUTEST EVER Froggy Buddha Photo - the single, solitary, one of a kind, best Froggy Buddha photo ever was gone ... never to be recovered ... lost.

My only serious loss out of a little more than a weeks worth of photos. So, there is that ...



SO ...

I began froggy hunt! One night when I was not very busy - I turned on the back porch light and hoped for the best. I was out there with my camera, hopeful one would hop on up to me and ask me to take his photo. Or BETTER YET my Buddah Buddy would saunter on back for another night of meditation!

I was back there looking forlorn with my camera when Gary asked me what I was doing. I told him and continued my search while he rolled is eyes, shook his head and headed back in his 'shop' to continue on his latest woodworking project.

I gave up and headed into Garys shop aka 'The Garage' to re-take photos of his project since I had lost those photos also. Gary left to do ... something on the back porch - garbage or something. A few minutest later, he stuck his head in the garage and told me he had found me a frog!!!

OK, - so he isn't as cute. He doesn't have a cute Buddha belly ... but close. And he was HORRIBLY camera shy. So that evening I found myself chasing after a seriously scared out of his mind frog - telling him 'Everything's fine! I just want your photo! Calm the crap down .... and STOP HOPPING!'

He didn't listen, so I did the best I could.

Dude had a GIFT for turning away from the camera showing his contempt for me an my photographing of him ... and maybe the flash was freaking him out a bit ...


Hopped to another spot and no matter what way I turned he turned with me - his back was all I got ...


*sigh*

This was not going well, when he hopped over to the side of the house with a number of escape routes blocked off - AND NO WHERE TO HIDE! Yeah, you can add abusing small froggies to my resume ... At this point he either decided he was the flashy-lights dinner and just wanted to get it over with quickly, or was more intelligent than that and decided if he let me take just a few shots of him, that I would go away and leave him be. So I started snapping away:


Trying to get lower and lower for the Not-Quite-Buddha-But-Better-Than-Nothing shot:


Does he look like he is enjoying himself?

Yes?


No?


Well, what ever it was - he had decided that this WAS HIS FINAL SHOT:





Because THIS is what I got next:


Ahhhhhhhh! SO FREAKING ADORABLY CUTE AND SO NOT IN FOCUS!!!

But ... tell me that just isn't priceless! Of course there are a million and one captions that could go with this photo!

I can positively say that I do not have a photo of a frog doing this in a photo ... and I have a lot of photos of frog! You couldn't have surprised me more if I had blown it up and discovered that he was giving me the finger!

He hopped over to the crack and seriously proceeded to try to crawl into the gap - so, I decided that I would let him off the hook and stop harassing him ...


And speaking of froggies giving me the finger ... where is my Aussie family? I had completely forgotten about them!

Looked around and found them living in rather cramped, dismal quarters in one of the office cupboards. Can't see much through the zip-loc bag, but it seems as if there is an 'angry eye' or two in there:


Ah, my Aussie Cane Toad Family:
(from left to right)

Rodney - the quiet, gentle and long suffering man of the swamp. He lost his arms and legs in a rather gruesome accident at the mill and has been out of work ever since ...

Harriet - Rodney's wife and a bully. Crude, rude and insensitive she lets her opinions be known whether you asked for them or not. Foul mouthed, vulgar and perpetually FLIPPING ME OFF! She is not my favorite of the Aussie Froggy Clan ...

Tess - Ah, Tess. With the jokes about her father, a monster for a mother and that googly eye problem she seems to have, Tess is an introverted shy teen who has made some mistakes in her past that she is not proud of. She is growing up, though, and gaining more confidence. I have hopes for her - maybe with a double 'googly eye transplant' her looks would improve and she would feel better about herself.

Biff - One of Tess's mistakes. He is a big dumb frog that seems as if there is nothing inside him but stuffing(which, seriously, I hope is true ...). He has no job skills, is absolutely of no use to anyone and to top it all off - he and Tess broke up long ago. But ... without the means nor the money to get back to Australia, here he stays ...

My lovely, albeit dysfunctional Cane Toad Frog family:


Typical Biff trying to look tough:


And a very typical Harriet! This is why THE ENTIRE FAMILY have been shoved in a zip-loc and ignored! How dare she double finger me -

THE NERVE!



Oh! My laundry just beeped (Saturday cleaning and all) be right back ...

Harriet: "Bonzer! Finally, she's left the room for a minute! We're just sitting around playing silly buggers! I think it's time to make a break for it!"


Rodney: "Luv, I just don't see how we are ever going to make it out of here - Biff is sulking, and since he's the only one with legs, making a break for it and running right now just doesn't seem to be the smartest choice. I think if you keep giving her the "Aussie Cane Toad Single Finger Universal Sign of Adoration & Respect" she might soften her zip-loc stance and leave go of us somewhere.

With that lovely display just now of the double handed "Aussie Cane Toad Single Finger Universal Sign of Adoration & Respect" I don't see how her heart won't be softened just a bit and improve our living conditions just a bit.

How I long for the days when she left us in a drawer - getting us out - dressing us up and taking our photos! I felt useful again! Last thing that exciting was wearing a party hat - a celebration of for Gary's 50th birthday!

Oh, those were the days ..."

Harriett: "Honey - we don't have time to reminisce right now ... although I DID enjoy being dressed up as George Washington and Abraham Lincoln for Presidents Day that once! Sadly - I think she threw away our George wig and Lincoln top hat when she cleaned us out of her drawer - no more holiday photos for us ...

Oh! I think I hear her coming back - here - help me get into position again to show her the double handed "Aussie Cane Toad Single Finger Universal Sign of Adoration & Respect" again - I think she is softening ... hurry!"

Tess: "Mum, uh, maybe our Cane Toad finger sign doesn't translate into human? She sort of seems annoyed when you do it?"

Harriett: "Tess, that's pigs bum - EVERYONE, every SPECIES knows what the "Aussie Cane Toad Single Finger Universal Sign of Adoration & Respect" is! It's in a handbook somewhere I am sure - hurry - help me get into position! It may be our only chance!"


Biff: (from somewhere) "You're all a bunch of zippered-butt freaks! How did I get stuck with the likes of you? I have arms! I have legs! You are nothing but trinkets to put coins in ... pathetic ..."

Tess: *sigh* "Nobody listens to me ..."



OK! I'm back - laundry blissfully washing and drying itself - don't you just love that?

Ahh, my Cane Toad Collection ... I am cleaning up the office today since we are having people over tomorrow and it is a disaster ... what to do with them, what to do with them ...


I Know!


I've decided since Harriet is no longer appropriate for public display (I swear her flipping me off seems to become more and more pronounced as time goes by ... or I am just losing it ...), and I am not really using them anymore, I am going to store them with the rest of my key chain collection - up in a big trunk upstairs! Total darkness - so no sun damage - I just might miss the little guys! But PERFECT for them!

Hmmm - Biff? He was bought just for fun - TOTALLY USELESS. Since he has arms and legs he couldn't be made into a coin purse - and I only collect key chains and coin purses that keys could be hooked on - so he really doesn't fit. He's just full of stuffing and he's the ugliest one - no character! Think Charlie might like him? After all, he is leather (well Cane Toad leather - how strong do you think that is?) - a great chew toy!

But ...


Rodney!



Cute, armless, legless Rodney!


He was my first in the collection!


He is the cutest little coin purse you will ever find anywhere! Imagine the envy of your friends and those waiting in line with you at Mickey D's


I just might miss the little guy ...

Running Out Of Time ...

Gary had mentioned that we should get away somewhere for our 30th wedding anniversary and in the same breath mentioned two places we should go to visit.

Silly me! I ASSUMED that he meant that we should go to one or the other for our Anniversary! I thought about it and decided that I didn't want to be travel guide stressed on for my anniversary so the trip seemed to be out.

You see ... I plan the entire thing, and why wouldn't I? I have the time. I book the flights, I figure out what hotel to stay in. I figure out where we are going to go. When we are going to go there. And when we should arrive ...

I study the history of the area so that it will be interesting and more meaningful. Although Ryan rolled his eyes every time we were in the car driving on our European Spring Break Adventures and I was filling the time dumping every little thing I had learned from the travel guides, online, anywhere I could scour information from ... I am sure it made the trip more meaningful.

Do I like to do this?

No!

I like to learn new things - but generally not when there is a time limit and it is 'forced upon me'. I like to casually meander around in WikiWorld and read up on something ... click on a link if it interests me and head off in another direction entirely. Now that is a FUN AFTERNOON!

This forced stuff? Not so much fun. Especially since I get in the mindset that since I planned it, EVERYTHING ... every little stinkin this is my responsibility ... and therefore my fault if it does not go well. Makes sense, yes? I booked the hotel - if MICE HAPPEN TO WANDER ACROSS MY FACE AT NIGHT it is totally and completely my fault! I understand that, I don't have a problem with it ...


until I have a problem with it. That is usually when I am tired and things have started piling up - THINGS GOING WRONG! I generally freak around, well 2 or 3 ....


I know, I know I am ashamed of myself. I should have more fortitude and backbone - but no ... And if you don't believe me - I shall go back and try to find my little story about our trip to Prague and my ... well ... lets call it a 'snit' for now, shall we? And will post the link HERE. (Found it - it is called The 'City of a Thousand Spires')

So - with memories of Prague meltdowns and mice feeding on my face, I had decided that I couldn't handle the pressure for something that was supposed to be so wonderful and glorious!

Gary asked me about it a few weeks after we talked about it and so I told him my concerns. He was amazed! "Those trips are just for fun - for just a few days to go to shows and take photos, Lori. Our anniversary trip should be like Greece, or a cruise or something big - I didn't mean for this trip to be our anniversary trip at all!"

I am still confused on how he didn't think that I would assume that this was 'THE TRIP' since we had just been talking about taking a trip for our anniversary. Gary doesn't get that I don't get it ... well - Gary doesn't understand a whole lot about the weirdness that is me, but still loves me - WHICH IS WHAT MAKES HIM SUCH A GREAT MAN ...

So, the trip OFFICIALLY came back into play ...


Bought the tickets one night - so, yes, we were going - October 20th - 24th. FUN TIMES AHEAD!

And then life got busy (for me I cannot possibly know how this can be and is really a misnomer for me - I am having some medical problems that limit my time at my desk so I cannot get anything done - so not really busy ... but I don't want to talk about it therefore I am busy, busy, busy!!!) and I forgot all about things.

Well, that is after I went through my RITUAL. I do it solely to please the Travel gods and give myself a sense of 'having my shit together' ... well, at least when it comes to travel plans.

Silly, really ....

It starts out with this:


NO! NOT A PRETTY PAPER TENT! Back when I was going to post this like a bazillion weeks ago I was sort of sleep deprived when taking the photos and I was SO CONCERNED that you would not be able to tell that it is an envelope. SO LIKE YOU CARE! YOU HAVE ALREADY ZONED OUT AND ARE GOING TO STOP READING IF I DON'T TURN THE CAPS LOCK BACK OFF ....

So - I have these red envelopes - don't remember where I got them - had a box of ... I don't know how many - a bunch. I am down to about 20, maybe if I look around and scrounge and count wrinkled ones I can get to 30 - but in the back of my head there is this little voice telling me that this is the number of trips I have FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE. I really, really wish I knew where I had purchased those .... have been looking for them for years - so I'm just hoping the little voice doesn't know what he is talking about ...

OK, see: envelope:


I THEN get out my FANCY PEN and write the name of the location on the envelope. Important step ...


This doesn't have anything to do with travel or the vengeful travel gods, but THEY ARE SO COOL!


Tell me these AREN'T THE CUTEST POST-IT'S you have ever seen!


SO CUTE!


Such variety!


AND ...


POST-IT's!


(Have I mentioned that I am addicted to collecting post-its? Seriously ... it is a problem and STUFF LIKE THIS is not helping ....):

Ahem ... OK ... I'm over it



I think.

Where are we going? Now that it is written down on a cheap red envelope so 'Official'?




*squee!!!*



Yeah!


Broadway tickets to Wicked:


Our flight ...


Our stay at the Marriott ...


And all nestled, neatly in my little red envelope!

But as I said - I have not been working it diligently enough - so last night I spent a few hours - bought the best reviewed book for visiting Manhattan, read a bunch of sites that had things you JUST HAVE to take photos of.

I think my list is up to about 64 places.


Yeah - I think I will be able to fit them all in ...


I realized, while playing around with the address of our hotel and Google Earth that I really lucked out!


NIGHT SHOTS!!! Without all the scary parts of night shots! I can walk outside my hotel room, down the street a block and there it is!


When I stand in front of our hotel and tilt the earth, this is what I get:


Seriously ....


HOW COOL IS THIS?

On so many levels!

1) I totally lucked out getting a hotel that was close to the airport since we were arriving very late and staying in a hotel in downtown NY? LAUGHABLE prices ...

2) My hotel is AN ACTUAL SUBWAY STOP for the subway.

3) My hotel is 1/2 block away from the ferry.

4) My hotel is a known entity to me and so far, no animals have attacked me at a Marriott ...

5) The view!


6) And if I turn 30 degrees to my right? A ways out, but THE STATUE OF LIBERTY!!!


No, I am not excited at all ....


Except, I have this teeny, tiny feeling that downloading those 123 podcasts onto my iPad and iPod are not going to make me an expert by JUST BEING THERE ...


Off to study, study, study ...

The Gift ... of a Dream

I dreamed last night.

Well, more like this morning. I vaguely remember Gary getting ready for work around 6 - 7 am and then ... very unusual for me - I fell back asleep! And not the regular - flitting back and forth between this world and my dream world. I was deep, deep in my dream world!

I awoke around 10:00, surprised that I could sleep so late, but I was now in a new world - one that did not exist before I fell asleep just those 3 short hours earlier.



I had dreamed of Jessie ...



I can't decide if I should start at the beginning or the end?

When I awoke - I was 100% convinced that I was headed over to her apartment at 2:00 this afternoon to pick up some fliers that we decided needed to be distributed to the neighboring community ...

It seemed perfectly normal, perfectly ordinary that my daughter, Jessie, was perfectly normal, perfectly ordinary ... perfectly perfect.

I stood up to head into the bathroom. The pain, as I stood was so intense it totally overwhelmed me. I was not on my medications since it was morning and not having taken them at 7:00 as I should have. As I stood there - trying to get some control over the pain so that I could take that first painful step - a niggling memory flitted across my brain and I started becoming confused. This continued and on walking back out of the bathroom the realization came crashing around me that I had only been dreaming ...

It was only a dream?

No!


It WAS SO REAL!


And I told myself to think back - to the last thing I remember - duh, Lori - it was waving at Jessie as she was heading into the school building!

What?


Wait ...



What?



*sigh*




Oh ....



And all of a sudden I was desperate to remember my day with Jessie. My day with my perfectly normal, perfectly ordinary, perfectly perfect Jessie.

I am still standing between the bathroom entry and the bed as the memories of the dream flit quickly through my head - but I realize that I am losing them! I envision a scene from the movie 'Inception'. I will elaborate for those of you who have not seen the movie. There is a scene (actually many) where he is in a dreamworld. A city that he has built totally within his mind. It is full of skyscrapers. Beautiful, large, looming buildings all up and down the edge of a beach. He is standing in or near the water and as he is standing there, the buildings around him are collapsing, one by one - tall buildings, just dropping, dissolving as if they were made of sand ...

As I envision this scene from Inception I realize this is what is happening to me - my dreamworld is slowly crashing around me - dissolving like so much sand ... and I am desperate to remember.

I quickly get back in bed and grab my iPad. I quickly open the word processor and I frantically start to type - lists, memories, ANYTHING that is left. Sometimes through tears, sometimes with a huge smile on my face - but ALWAYS with a sense of desperation.

I have a sense that I am racing a clock which is slowly ticking down to zero. At zero all memory of my dream will be gone - and I am losing more and more as I frantically try to quickly convey an entire experience in a few words and move on before another building is lost ...

I am typing so fast (in a prone position) and the typo's are plentiful. I am annoyed with the spell checker that is going about mucking it up even more by replacing a perfectly good, albeit misspelled word with some random nonsense - but I HAVE NO TIME! No time to track down the insidious, obnoxious option and turn it off. I just hope that I will recognize what I have typed at the end ...

My typing slows, but I remember there was SO MUCH MORE! So much more ...

I have been typing for an hour - pages and pages of notes and I realize that some of the first memories that I typed are only there because I wrote it down - trying to access that memory in my mind - it is gone ... another building dissolved and reclaimed by the beach and ocean waves.

I sigh - I try and try to remember more, but it is not there. I look around my dreamworld while standing on the beach - the waves gently lapping at my ankles. It is mainly a vast ruin and wasteland - nothing for miles and miles - but every now and again I see a pocket of buildings - knowing that they are only standing with the the support from the words that I see in front of me on my iPad ...


My dream,


my beautiful, beautiful dream.


My day with my perfectly normal,


perfectly ordinary,


perfectly perfect daughter ...



is officially over.


Well, apparently I decided to start at the end, now, didn't I?




I dreamed a dream of a day with Jessie.



It is unclear how it starts ...



we just are ...




We just ....



exist.


Jessie is an implausible combination of realities. She is about 12 or 13 years old. She is small - I am still taller than her! I don't believe that was the case when she was 12 or 13 years old. She is in college or high school - I am not sure which and yet I take her there - escort her for some unknown, unspoken reason. Maybe we just are together because we want to be.

It just is.

She lives in an apartment on her own - as if she is in college. It is an older, but well kept light brick building and she lives on the second of three floors. The hallway to her apartment is dim, and depressing somehow - just a fleeting feeling I have ...

Inside her apartment is a few rooms, sparsely furnished all with beautiful wooden floors. I could be a room from the movie 'Inception' for all I know ... I do not recognize it from anything that my subconscious could have built it from. I don't remember much about the apartment but the whimsical Christmas decorations! It is not Christmas time - it is some time in spring in a town with lovely weather - I am thinking Pasadena, California - but more on that later. The decorations were there left over from the tenant before her and she says she likes them so she kept them up. I find it ... charming in her!

We are not in her apartment for long - maybe I am there to pick her up and take her to school. Maybe it is from a part that I forgot. I seem to have been there a few times - but only a feeling I get when I try and try to remember.

And we are off! We are walking.

The first place I remember being is an old abandoned clump of land. There is a dilapidated house on it. There are discarded pieces of furniture and old appliances scattered about the 4 or 5 acres that we are traversing. The ground is hard and uneven. I don't remember many weeds, but there are some. We notice some drums - rusty and corroded and we discuss that this place should really be cleaned up. She joked to me that maybe we could get it declared a 'superfund site'. I remember in my dream being proud of her for caring and for actually knowing what a superfund site was!

Aside: after I woke up I was a little unsure that I knew exactly what a superfund site was so I looked it up: "A Superfund site is an uncontrolled or abandoned place where hazardous waste is located, possibly affecting local ecosystems or people."


She was spot on!


That's my girl ...

We decide to look around, clearly we are in no hurry to get to school - just one of the many inconsistencies that exist in this dreamworld.

It is not smelly like a dump and there is very little what you would call garbage. Just abandoned appliances and furniture and hazardous looking drums - as if people had been using the site for that purpose for quite some time.

We decide to sneak through the house - and see what it is like. It is empty, at odd angles like a fun house and we scamper about - me included - I have no pain of severe arthritis or illness in this dreamworld ... It is devoid of furniture and dusty. But was interesting to investigate all its nooks and crannies.

Suddenly, we are in the living room of the house standing near the front door when the Allens appear in the doorway. This is a family I grew up with in my ward in Logan, Utah. There was a daughter my age who was a friend: Heather. They are 'age appropriate' for my dream - which I would consider the present even though Jessie is only 12 or 13 ... size wise - everything else about her screams that she is in college - her mannerisms, her speech, her actions - maybe she is just a really, really smart 13 year old? I don't have a clue why they decided to crash my dream - I never think about them and have no communication with them at all, but oddly do know what each of them looks like now, present day.

The parents because there was a photo of them in some photos my father had sent me of his summer travels. He wanted me to stitch together some of his photos of a waterfall, Hoover Dam bridge and a few other things, but on the CD was everything. Included was a party up at our old cabin at Bear Lake which was either for my parents - since they live in Arizona now, or just happened while they were in town. Either way - my father had taken some photos of the attendees - all our old neighbors when we (me, my parents ...) lived in Logan, Utah. They were in a photo at the party and were still recognizable as the Allens - just, well - way older!

As for my friend Heather, she is my friend on Facebook, but does not include her photo anywhere. Obsessively absent from any of her photos. A rather odd thing since I found her by sneaking over to her sisters profile and looking through a photo album - unprotected ... Facebookers beware - there are people like me out there that go off and look around at non-friends albums and they are viewable unless you set up your privacy! Luckily it was unprotected (as if I am going to do anything but look at the photos and enjoy seeing old friends families ...) and there was a shot of her sitting on a couch - and she is STUNNINGLY BEAUTIFUL. If I were that pretty - man, I would have that as my Avatar in a minute and tons of photos of myself in my albums!

Ahem ... I digress ...


They are standing in the doorway and Professor Allen wandered into the living room so I was having to look in two different directions to speak with them. I say hello and Professor Allen wanders deeper into the house - never saying a word - rather odd since he was, probably still is, the very friendly, verbal sort ...

I turn to Heather and her mother and say: "Hi! Let me introduce you to my daughter. This is Jessie."

They smile and say hello and: 'Oh my! Aren't you beautiful?". I remember being so proud of her, so, so proud and so very thrilled to be her mother! Except for that one little thing: I had to make Jessie say hello to them! Jessie is neither shy nor quiet - so I smile at a memory of me nudging her and whispering to her "Say hello, Jess!".

It is at this point in my memory that I try and remember her physical characteristics. I remember her in a few different outfits of clothing, but for most of the dream - which seems to span a linear chunk of time: us heading to her school - she is in only one, consistent outfit. In addition, there are jumbled parts which I don't think are linear I vaguely remember. These mostly forgotten flashes probably explain the changes of clothing and multiple times in her apartment.

I am going to stick with my most vivid memory of the walk to school. She has long blond hair like she had when she was young and it is hanging loose. It is full of body and a little curl - it comes about halfway down her back. It is styled in such a way that it stays back like it is hair sprayed into place or has clips holding it back - but neither is the case as it is free flowing and moves around as she moves and with gusts of wind. It frames her face perfectly ... a face that for some reason I cannot see. I am sure she has one! I just do not remember it at this point.

She is wearing a dress - it is sleeveless and full of shades of blues and beige and white and seems to be an abstract paisley print. It is a rather plain design - just a sleeveless dress with no waistline, scoop neck and comes just below her knees - hanging as if it is made of a rayon type fabric. It is simple, yet is beautiful and looks beautiful on her. The fabric is shiny - with the blues and beige's that seem to match her tanned skin and the blue eyes that I cannot see. The fabric shimmers as she moves. She is not holding anything, nor am I - which seems rather odd since we are clearly headed to school in my dream - but we are unconcerned about this.

We leave the Allens and head out the front door. We are back in the fun house again climbing off the front porch and then through some twisted metal junk and it gets difficult to navigate our way out to the flat lands once again where our biggest concern was having to swerve around old rusted appliances and steering clear of ominous looking drums of waste.

We again mention that something needs to be done about this area and decide to really, actually take care of it. Instantly


*poof*


there are fliers back at Jessie's apartment that need to be handed out to the surrounding businesses and houses. We discuss it further and suddenly we step onto a sidewalk on a very busy road. Looking back at the memory - I realize that we are on a stretch of Colorado Boulevard in Pasadena, California.

While Gary was getting his masters degree at Cal Tech, I worked at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory, but not at their main location. I worked in a run of the mill, very ordinary looking building on Colorado Boulevard. I don't know / remember if this was because of space considerations or security reasons. My guess is security since there was a lot of security on this top secret project I worked on for the Air Force - including some bizarre doorway we went through - cannot remember it all now - stuff in the walls, scanners, it was just what I call 'spy shit bizarre'.

We were standing in the area near that innocuous looking building and turned and started walking East on the South side of the street (the side my building was on). All of a sudden we are in a mall. There is no mall in that area of Colorado Boulevard, so my dreamworld had decided to build one and put us in it. We are still in no hurry to get to school (or we started out, say FIVE HOURS before school was going to start ...) and we were goofing off in the store. Jessie was happy, and playful and funny. She tried on some costumes and looked lovely in a pink feather boa and big black glasses with the big nose.

Here, I have obviously stolen memories from real life and incorporated them into my dream. When living in Norway, Ryan and I would go somewhere during his spring break and Gary would watch Jessie. We went to Paris, France the first year, and Germany the second year. In Germany, after adventuring our brains out in Bavaria, Germany, we were tootling along on the autobahn on our way back to Frankfurt and the airport we flew into when all of a sudden, something flashed out the right side window as we were speeding recklessly by. It took a second for it to register in either of our minds - having been so long since seeing one and NEVER BEFORE seeing one in Europe. Ryan turned to me and said (verbatim ... it was classic): "Dude! Was that a Wal-Mart?"

It was and we immediately exited and wound our way back to it. Something familiar in the midst of: First - Europe for about a year and a half and Second: - Germany which, where we had been touring, looked like we had plonked ourselves back in time to about the 1870's ...

We got out and went in and other than it being two stories tall - with the escalator type things they had over in Norway to accommodate shopping carts - it was a Wal-Mart though and through ... except things were all in German ...

I wanted to name the shopping cart escalator for you - but scoured the web for even a photo and couldn't find one. They were great. They were inclined moving walkways (so smooth) and when you rolled your cart onto it, there were specially designed groves in the floor of the walkway and grooves in the wheels of the cart that stopped it from rolling (since you were on an incline and it would roll). They were cool and a great idea - especially after scouring the web for a photo and finding all sorts of contraptions where your cart had its own little ramp next to you on the escalator - this was (like - oh, so many things in Norway were) so simple, yet genius in design and the easiest solution to the problem. Digressing again, I know ....

While in the Wal-Mart with Ryan - we played around with the toys - especially a talking bear since we had one like it - only this one spoke German! It was fun. And we HAD to stop at the costume section. It was strange - but in Norway (and apparently other countries) the costumes you would see out in the US at Halloween were out all year. This very well may be because they do not HAVE a Halloween - and would sell them for 'dress up' - I don't know. I just know there was always a costume section in toy stores and such. Ryan let me take photos of him trying on a few things ... including a pink feather boa (looked better on Jessie) but never any 'funny nose glasses' ...

So close ... and yet so VERY different! The personalities were different, the conversations, the things we did - so not a blank replacement with 'my one day of Jessie' Jessie and Ryan. We had a blast! A lot of laughing and silliness.

And just like that we were on the sidewalk again continuing our walk east ...

Up ahead is a street and a light (duh, we ARE on Colorado Boulevard - all the streets have lights!). I told her (since it was red and we were rather a long ways from it) that if we ran - we could hit the 'walk' light. Maybe NOW we were in a hurry, I am not sure why I tell her this.

Then I said: "Race ya!" And started running! As did Jessie.

At this point my sub-conscious breaks in just a titch (this happened a few times during my dream). I remember racing Jessie - we were both running flat out as fast as we could and we were neck and neck. There is no sidewalk now, no street, no buildings - just me and Jessie running and laughing ....

Time slows as I slowly turn my head towards my daughter and see a silhouette of a face, hair streaming behind her and she was laughing - and my sub-conscious says to me ... almost harshly:

"Remember this moment!"

And I do! I ran a race with my daughter! One of those things that forever Moms sometimes don't ever get to do - especially sick, out of shape forever Moms! I have a very clear, distinct memory of running with Jessie now - what a gift!

(Note: it has been HOURS since I typed this in, never realizing that I had used one of my 'made up' words - until now! In a blog post a very, very long time ago - I wrote that in referring to a "Forever Child" - logic would imply that there was a "Forever Mother" somewhere in that scenario and referred to myself as one. Although I did not make up the term "Forever Child" it is something that makes sense without further explanation, whereas the term "Forever Mother" - that is most definitely not the case! I wonder how many people I have confused so far?)

Time speeds up, the sidewalk returns, the buildings are back and we reach the light - and we have missed it! Which makes us laugh even more than we were laughing racing for the light. So we stand and wait for the next 'walk' signal to cross.

I turn and Kay Potter - a lady from the Mission Bend Ward that I knew was standing there also waiting for the light and I said hello. We spoke for a moment - all three of us - there were no introductions everyone knew everyone. I told her about our new project - getting the abandoned area declared a superfund site and cleaned up. I told her that I had called the EPA (news to me until this moment) and that we were distributing fliers around town to drum up support. She thought that was a great idea and said that she wanted to help. I told her that I was picking up the fliers at Jessie's apartment later that day and if she wanted - I could drop some off at her house. She told me that would be great!

The light changed and we crossed the street.


As dreams are wont to do - we are suddenly at her school. It seemed as if we had exited the urban part of town and were in the sub-burbs. It was a light red brick building - surrounded by many other red brick buildings as if we were on a campus somewhere. There were about 8 - 10 steps up to some large glass double doors. We are standing about about 30 yards from these steps on a sidewalk. There are no people anywhere - just us two, but I do not have the impression that she is late for school either ...

We discuss the fliers, that I would be there this afternoon to pick them up. (Apparently I didn't need to escort her back to her apartment AFTER school in this world ...). We said our goodbyes and she turned and walked away from me.

Maybe not wanting our time to end, maybe wanting to see her face one more time, maybe wanting to get the last word in, I shouted to her: "I will come get those fliers this afternoon!" having already discussed this and the logistics of who was going to do what.

She stopped, maybe halfway to the steps to the glass doors and turned towards me. The sun was behind her making her long hair glow and giving her entire small body in the shimmery blue and beige dress a halo effect. She shouted back: "I know you'll be there. I will see you then!"

She turns back towards the building ... and here things get ...


jerky.


She is moving towards the building, but seems to get no closer. I notice faded ghosts of people milling about everywhere - as if they have been there the whole time but I had chose to ignore them.

I try to get one final glimpse of her - maybe a mother's duty of making sure she got into the building safely, maybe because things were fading, changing and my subconscious wanted to see her one last time.


I can't find her.


The scene changes ...

to something else.

Actually lots of them:


I am on a beach at sunset

zoom ...

I am in our front yard as Gary trims branches off the trees - with piles and piles of branches surrounding us (a stolen memory from a few days ago)

zoom ...

I am at Tivoli at night (A beautiful amusement park just a short walk away from the Marriott hotel in Copenhagen, Denmark. There they have the mostbeautiful, colorful lights per square meter than you will see anywhere in the world ...)

zoom ...

I am in a plane, window seat, looking out the window at the tops of white puffy clouds

zoom ...

I am in an institutional type room, it is dim, cold and gray. It could be any hospital, government building, insane asylum ... anything. The room is empty the window is blocked by grimy shades blocking out most all of the light. There is no furniture there ... I am just standing in an empty room - with the door open to a hall. The hall is just as dim. I don't know where it goes. I can hear someone crying down the hall and I wonder

zoom ...

I am back standing in front of the school building again. I am still looking for her and suddenly I spot her! She is at the top of the stairs pulling open one of the large glass doors. I calm down a bit. I am totally happy, at peace, no pain, no worries, just me - a mom doing something as mundane as dropping a daughter off at school and making sure she gets inside.

I smile. I have done my duty. She is in the building ... well, almost.

As I am still looking at her, she pauses as she is pulling the door open, turns as much as she can while still holding the door handle, twists her head and spots me. She raises her free hand, waves and smiles broadly and I get a final glimpse of the most beautiful blond haired girl / woman I have ever seen!

I don't recognize her in my mind when I think back to that memory, but the dream me ... the one who is pain free and can run races with her daughter ... not to mention crawl and climb through a dusty old abandoned tilting house and think nothing of it ... THAT Lori knows it is my Jessie. I smile and wave back.

And suddenly the screen fades to black, my eyes open and I am laying in bed as I said before - wondering what time I should run over to Jessie's to pick up the fliers?

Facebook Re-Post ... for You-Know-Who-You-Are ...

For those of y'alls (yep I just typed y'alls - please come over to my house and shoot me now ...) who aren't on Facebook (Mom & Dad...) I thought you would enjoy this - so I am repeating it verbatim from my Sunday Facebook post - sorry this is a duplicate for most of the rest of you ....

"Dubai, Dad ..."

Jessie was over (as usual) this afternoon. As she watched her dad pack she asked him where he was going? Gary Hurst told her that he was going to Dubai.

Thinking that his departure was immediate, she kept trying to tell him "goodbye" but her words kept getting jumbled and several times she said "Dubai, Dad"'.

I told her that he was not leaving for an other hour ... but I rather liked her farewell phrase ... so:

"Dubai Gary ... Safe and speedy travels ..."

"Rachaels Box"

A few days ago, Ryan (my son) and I began a series of texts – apparently we are unable to call each other on the phone anymore … I have included them verbatim – which is probably not the wisest choice I have made in a long time ... blogging about this also seems unwise … but feels right – if that makes any sense?

The Texts:

Ryan: “Would it be alright if I got genetic counseling if insurance covers it?”

Lori: (after my heartbeat slows to something that will enable me to type on my Blackberry keyboard without shaking so much that I miss the letters) “Why?”

Ryan: “To see if I have mutant sperm.”

Lori: “Dude … you don’t have mutant sperm. Dad checked out. I checked out. Um … is there a reason why you want to do this right now? I don’t think that insurance pays for it …”

Ryan: “I’m in a child development class now, went over all the disorders that can occur. And testing has gotten better, but if insurance doesn’t pay for it that’s cool …”

Lori: “Give me a minute … I am just FREAKED since generally someone doesn’t worry or think about that UNTIL THEY ARE PLANNING ON HAVING A BABY OR ONE IS ALREADY ON THE WAY …”

Ryan: “There is no baby on the way -__- I just wanna get checked out while I am on Dads super insurance, as opposed to me being older in the Mad Max America we are heading into …”

Lori: “OK, my computer just vomited blood all over the desk & I got a little distracted – go to xxinsurancecompanyxx.com and login. Check to see if it is covered.”

Side note – that ‘vomiting blood all over the desk’ ? Yeah, that was my 6TB external drive exhaling its final death rattle ...

A day later:

Ryan: “Genetic counseling is only covered for people who have a medical necessity … and having a family with a history of mental retardation & congenital issues certifies me for it …”

Lori: “Great!”

Yesterday:

Ryan: “OK, so I called the genetics people and they would like to see the report for Rachael if one exists …”

Lori: “I will try to find the report on Rachael”

Today:

Ryan: “Any luck with the medical records?”




And so it begins …


going back to the past in order to move forward into the future …




There is a box – I call it (not surprisingly): Rachaels' Box. In it is everything I saved from that time of my life pertaining to her. I cannot really remember what is in it. Threw everything in a box and shoved it under a bed. Moved to Norway and it went into storage for two years. Came home, unpacked it and shoved it in Jessie’s closet. And there it sat for years – ignored and forgotten … just a foggy memory in the back of my mind.

That is until yesterday when it came clearly into focus. But I was not ready to delve into the past, so I ignored Ryan’s request and did nothing.

I wonder if I have a report on Rachael’s chromosomal anomalies - partial trisomy 10 & partial monosomy 4 - both rare and never seen as a combination before. I text Ryan back that I might not have the report, but know I have her autopsy report and that might mention her chromosomal defects in the intro part of the … person being autopsied.

And suddenly I am back there – at the hospital, shaking, LIVID, arguing with the hospital personnel. For the autopsy, she needed to be transferred to the hospital where the doctors who would perform the autopsy worked. The hospital administrator had told me that was fine, but the hospital would not pay for it. It required a transfer by an ambulance up the street a whole two blocks and was going to cost us personally a bundle. My mom asked if she could just carry her up the street? They said no that it was illegal to transport a deceased person unless you had a permit. The entire dilemma seemed so absurd that in the midst of all the sorrow and pain, a sense of unreality crept in and I felt like I was in some sort of nightmare that I just couldn’t wake up from …

Like I wanted my baby to be autopsied! I was not doing this for me, or her … I was doing it for the specialists who followed her so closely while I was pregnant so they could see how well they were at diagnosing and predicting things using only an ultrasound back then. They had asked me if I wouldn't mind - that it would be so helpful for them. As much as I didn't want my baby autopsied, I had said yes – but suddenly it didn’t sound like such a good plan.

After Rachael was diagnosed she had the geneticists scratching their heads having not seen her anomalies before. And soon there were specialists all wanting a piece of Rachael – to study her, to follow her progress and things became a little … well, bizarre. She was not Rachael to them – she was an anomaly, something out of the ordinary, a curiosity - a fetus to be studied. To me - she was my precious, broken Rachael. Our views of my baby couldn’t have been more different.

The geneticist approached me and asked if he could follow her and if I would come in regularly for testing and examinations. I asked him why. He told me because it was so rare! What an opportunity to study the progress! A new and curious mystery for him. “Would it help other babies in the future?” was my only question. Well, no he said – but he would be writing articles about it! His study of her would be published in all the best medical journals!

I told him "Thanks, but no".

The heart specialist that had been brought in after it was discovered that Rachael had a lethal heart defect also asked if she could follow me – which meant appointments with her so that she could do ultrasounds periodically to watch the progress and growth of the heart. Again, I asked: “Would it help other babies in the future?” She said yes – that she thought that in a baby who had no other problems but this particular kind of heart defect (Rachael also did not have kidneys - it was a given that she was going to die) she could probably successfully repair the defect. She said that to do that, though – it would have to be an emergency operation as soon as the baby was born and that all knowledge gained before the birth gave the baby that much more of a chance of surviving the operation. Thus studying Rachael and her progression helped her become more knowledgeable in how to prepare for such an event.

I told her yes.

I believe there was one more specialist that followed me, but that time is a bit fuzzy and I might be thinking of my high-risk obstetrician who was also following her.

Thus the request from the doctors to do an autopsy – to verify their findings and what they had seen at all the appointments I had gone to for them to do ultrasounds. To see how close they were in their diagnosis, to physically see what they had only been seeing on a blurry ultrasound. Seemed like a a good reason to give consent for an autopsy at the time ....

So, there I was, standing in the hospital, livid that I would have to pay to transport my baby to another hospital for an autopsy I didn’t want in the first place. Someone called someone else, or the hospital realized why this was being done and all of a sudden we didn’t need to pay for it anymore – it was being taken care of. I don’t remember now who paid – I just remember the absurdity of it all …

Update: as I am proof reading this it suddenly occurred to me - I remember now who paid for the transportation of my baby. It was the funeral home. We had made arrangements for a funeral and interment that included them picking her up and transporting her to the funeral home. Why they would drive all the way to the medical center to move her two blocks, then come back a day later to get her and take her to the funeral home is a mystery to me - as was how they knew about it in the first place? The kindness of strangers was never more apparent than during this time ...

And just as quickly as I had fallen down the rabbits hole into another place and time … I am back in the here and now. Back with …



THE BOX.



I sigh and get up. It was time. Time to go upstairs, get down the box and immerse myself in a different place and time. In search for a piece of paper – for Ryan. And for THAT reason – I didn’t hesitate, and headed upstairs.


I open the door to Jessie's closet, looked up, and there it was - nestled between a container full of whimsical seasonal decorations and a container of folding storage containers:

I could actually reach it! Got it down and took off the lid.

Immediately I smiled! Who wouldn't? Not wanting to crush or bend them in any way, on the top of everything else were some 14x11 prints:

My sister in law, when she came down to the funeral, brought this print in a beautiful matted frame for me. I had never seen it before. Jessie immediately upon seeing it had said "Its Jesus!". And Ryan on seeing it told me that it was a picture of Rachael with Jesus. It was something we all needed and has been displayed in every home we have lived in ever since.

We displayed it during the funeral and right as the funeral was to start - Ryan turned to Gary and I and asked why he didn't get to see Rachael to say goodbye to her. It was a difficult question to answer, I had promised him that I would never lie to him when he started to ask me very difficult questions a few months earlier - I have kept that promise to this day. But Rachael having congenital defects did not look great, thus a closed casket. I was in a quandary. Then I remembered:

"Do you remember what you said to me when you saw the picture Aunt Cherri gave us?"

"Yes"

"And what did you say?"

"I said that was Rachael with Jesus."

"Right! We can stop the funeral right now and I can take you to the back where it is so you can look at it again if you want to. And you can say 'Goodbye' to Rachael there. We can even bring it back with us and you and I can hold it so you can look at it and see her through the whole funeral. Would you like to do that?"

"No, it's OK."

And the funeral began again, me having kept my promise ...

A month later, I decided that I wanted this photo laser etched onto Rachael's marker, so I spent hours scouring the internet for Jean Keaton - the name that is signed on the bottom right of the print. And miracles of miracles (literally) her home telephone number landed in my lap and I called her to ask her permission to reproduce it onto Rachaels marker.

She was so kind. Asked me many questions, wanted to hear my story. She said that she'd had a few requests like this and always wanted to know the story before she made her decision. She was wonderful - we laughed and cried together for hours on the phone (multiple calls). She asked me one day if she could use my story - she spoke often at devotionals and I said yes. She, in turn told me that I could use her artwork and what was my address - she wanted to send me something. Curious, I gave it to her and then forgot about it.

One day a few weeks later a package arrived in the mail from her with a copy of each of her most famous prints. This one was included - with the hand signed message and a resigning of her name:

Years later, my parents were on a mission working in a mission office with another couple. The Sister had told my mother that her daughter was an artist and showed her some of her artwork. It was Jean Keaton's mother! So my mother told her the story of Rachaels marker. Her mother knew me! This surprised my mother (and then me) and said that Jean did speak often all around the country and did use my story. Jean also sent me a beautiful note thanking me for letting her share my story (most of which I probably don't even remember!). It always seemed so odd - I felt as if I was the one that should be thanking her ...

I gently placed the prints down and started pulling out other things - the hospital outfit, photos, extra thank you cards we had sent out later ...

And then, there it was! The absolutely, stunningly beautiful dress that Rachael was buried in. Confusing? I know - let me explain.

One day after finding out Rachael was going to die soon after she was born, I called my mother and asked her how in the world I could ask my sister to make me a dress to bury my daughter in? Jodi, my sister, is an amazing seamstress and I knew she could do it, but how do you ask someone to do that? In addition - I was not sure what size she was going to be so it needed it to be adjustable. My mother told me that 'you just ask' ... that Jodi would be honored, would not feel uncomfortable in the least, and would tell me if she didn't have the time or the know how to do it (hah! my mother had apparently forgotten who she was talking about - my sister can literally do the impossible if she puts her mind to it).

So I made the call. And, of course, she said yes. What she did not tell me was that she was going to make two identical dresses - so that I would be able to have 'Rachaels dress'. I was speechless at the kindness and generosity. I will cherish it forever:

It is stunningly beautiful and the detail is amazing:

From the lace on the sleeves:

To the adorable heart lace on her bloomers:

The pretty little bow with streamers and the lace behind it:

The dress skirt consist of three layers - a white tricot slip layer, a lace layer and the top layer with bows that gather - and are adjustable - you can make the dress longer or shorter depending on how you pull just a few strings on the dress. She had other ways to adjust it also, but it fit perfectly ...

The perfect stitching, the lace, the silky fabric, the beautiful pink flowers - all combined into a beautiful dress filled to the brim with love, happiness, peace and joy. I simply cannot look at this dress without feeling the peace that comes from knowing that there are people in this world who love you so much that they would do literally anything for you. It is truly a magical dress!

You would think that looking at the duplicate of the dress that my baby was buried in would in some ways make me feel sad, but - no - there is no room for that. It is just too beautiful not to make me feel loved, at peace and happy!

*sigh*

With the beautiful stuff out of the way - now comes the paperwork - the mundane, the detailed, the sad, scary, ugly stuff ...

And right off the bat I pick up a lab report from the Cytogenetics Laboratory and I am so thrilled! I can stop! I have a report! Joy!

I turn the page and I marvel that I am actually looking at my daughters chromosomes ...


... until I notice the Patient Name: Hurst, Lori.

Oh, yeah - after Rachael was tested, Gary and I were tested also to see if there was something wrong with either of us that could have caused this. We were both given a clean bill of health and I realized that I was looking at MY OWN chromosomes:

Pick up another official looking report and suddenly I am down the rabbit hole again. It is the initial ultrasound report. I see the date: October 10th, 1996. Hmmmm, I had forgotten the day.

I remember the DAY day - just not the date. I actually wrote about the entire experience of this day years ago. I ran across it a year or so ago and posted it here on my blog. The post is titled 'The Beginning of the End' and is HERE.



October 6th, 1996 ...

One day I went in for an ultrasound with a high-risk doctor ... just as I had done with Ryan, due to the fact that I had a mentally retarded daughter. Gary was out of town, Jessie was at school, Ryan was being watched by a friend, I was sick and tired as I am when pregnant - especially after getting ill (and staying ill) in 1992, there was no clean underwear in the house, it looked like a hurricane had hit in most every room of the house and my mom was bothering me to call her 'right away' with the results. I was tired, harried, sick and not paying much attention.

And with one sentence, one TINY LITTLE SENTENCE ... my entire world changed forever. The doctor had come in after the tech had run some initial scans, puts the ultrasound thingy on my stomach and immediately said:


"Somethings not right here."


He continued on with his devastating monologue for an hour and a half - detailing every anomaly, every problem, there was very little amniotic fluid - which in addition to making it very uncomfortable for me - meant that Rachaels kidneys were not functioning properly, looking closer - he cannot find kidneys. I remember thinking in my head ... like a mantra (with my heart racing and more scared than I had ever been) "dialysis, donors, this is doable ...". He keeps it up - coldly documenting everything as he went. This is fine with me - I want to know the truth - give it to me straight ... and that is what I was getting.

And then he said: "I see a nuchal thickening on the back of the neck."

"Is that a problem?" I ask.

"Yes", he says "it is a very strong indicator that there is a chromosomal defect."

And just like that, my entire world shattered into a million pieces ...

On that day - October 10th, 1996 - and here I was, holding in my hands the hard document that shattered my life so badly, that I seem to still be picking up the pieces ...

I mentally pull myself out of the rabbits hole just to be thrust into yet another:

I pick up a folded piece of paper with something embedded in the fold. It is the words to a song, and Rachaels funeral program:

Don't remember who the words to the song were directed at, or why I had bothered to type them up ... I suspect that I was thinking of Gary.

There is a box of photos in the big box and KNOWING there was next to no chance that I was going to find the elusive report I was looking for there, I opened it anyway:

Nope - no autopsy report here ...


I empty the contents of a folder and this is on top. I smile. This is the diagram that the cardiologist used to show me how she would fix the particular type of defect Rachael had on another child. I had no idea I had it. I'd like to think that by now, she had saved a number of babies - operating on hearts smaller than a walnut! And maybe ... just maybe ... studying Rachael for that time helped her help them in some way ...

I marvel at the sheer amount of stuff that I have kept! I must not have thrown anything away ...

On the back of the papers from the cardiologist is some handwritten notes in writing that I can tell is mine - but barely. A hurried scrawl, probably nervous, confused - it would be interesting to see what a hand writing expert had to say about it!

I see the names of Dr. Carpenter, Dr. Eyres, Dr Abereio, Dr Adams, and a Weisman - a doctor? Probably - I was seeing a grundle of them. There are appointment times and directions and the disorganization of all this information and the sheer amount of info dumped here on the backside of a piece of paper brings back the overwhelming feelings of ineptitude, confusion and failure. Days filled with illness, taking care of Jessie and Ryan the best I could in between appointments and the nights filled with sheer terror at what I knew was coming. I SO wanted to have the strength to do this ... gracefully. I spent many nights crying into our Boxers (Chance) fur and he would lie there patiently - just us - in my sick room. My own bedroom the doctors suggested and we set up after I got so ill - so that I would not be woken up by Jessie who averaged getting up between 5 - 9 times a night EVERY night - for at least 12 - 13 years.

Didn't accomplish that 'graceful' goal ...

My pile is getting bigger and I have depleted my stash. I KNOW I have her autopsy report because I read the entire thing. We had a summary, but I asked them to please send me the entire report. They told me that was generally not done, so I asked if it was not allowed or was there a problem with it. The sheepishly said no, but generally parents didn't want to see it. I told them that I was not 'most parents' and please sent me one. They said they would. I remember it being very thick ...

I see a certificate ... and sigh. It is probably the only tangible evidence in this box that my baby ever existed ... her footprint:

I refile that somewhere else - increasing the importance of the document to a much higher status by putting it in another folder. There does seem to be a bit of a method to my madness at the time (and I DO mean madness ...). Everything seemed to have been assigned a place in a hierarchy of importance and I was messing it all up!

Suddenly, I stumble on another pile nested inside a baby magazine. And I see my notes! My notes! I CANNOT believe that I saved them. When the autopsy arrived, and I was ready, I began to read and quickly realized that if I did not have a medical degree or know Latin fluently I was in trouble. So I got out our trusty dictionary - this was early web days and we did not have a laptop at the time and I had locked myself in our master bedroom so the kids would not bother me - and started looking words up. A LOT of words! And read the entire thing.

Did I want to? No, but I felt like I owed it to Rachael since I had told them that they could do one. Illogical reasoning, and TMI for sure, but I felt I needed to do it.

I was encouraged ... if I STILL HAVE MY NOTES from reading the autopsy ... logic would dictate that the actual autopsy is here ... somewhere ... right?

I had reached the bottom of the box - literally:

I had our hospital wrist bands for heavens sake! I HAD TO HAVE HER AUTOPSY REPORT!

And sure enough, I went through a pile I had already been through and hit the mother lode. Not the autopsy - but a summary of the autopsy - I WAS SO CLOSE!

And sure enough - right underneath it was the autopsy itself:

It was rather thick - I cannot believe that I had missed it. And *yeah!* it documented the fact that she had chromosomal abnormalities. My walk / fall / stumble down memory lane was not entirely in vain!!!

Oh, but what is this - right under the autopsy report?

A closer look and I realize that I HAVE HIT THE MOTHER LOAD!!! It is the actual report of the amniotic testing that discovered the chromosomal abnormalities! Whoo Hoo! JUST what I need! AND the added bonus that I don't have to send my son an autopsy report - just a report on chromosomes ...

And on official letterhead - so no issues on credibility. The insurance company would get their document, my son would get his testing and hope of all the hope a mother can have for a son - he gets the peace of mind that he is fine ...

And there it is ... a diagram of my Rachaels chromosome 10 and 4 and the translocation of a piece of 4 onto 10 ... all in a happy blue and green:

Well, I am done! I collect Rachaels report, the autopsy summary and the report on my chromosomal test - and Gary's and put them aside, not wanting to accidentally put them away again and have to start over.

They look so out of place with my happy little house:

I turn around and there it is - the sum total of Rachaels existence. More that I thought that I had, a lot of beautiful letters and cards, stuff that I had written and photos ... not to mention THAT DRESS! And I decide that it is not so shabby ...

It is enough ...

I start to put everything away - trying for how I had it, but ending up just shoving things in folders - I mean, when would I ever need to get back in here and find something again?

Finally, I get to the dress, my beautiful babies beautiful dress. I gently begin to fold it and suddenly I realize that I had forgotten the back! How could I POSSIBLY forget the back? See how beautiful the back is:

Pretty little pearl buttons with pretty little elastic loops to hook them in place.

And, again, I am taken aback by the sheer beauty of the thing. I smile, fold the dress, put it in an air tight ziploc bag and seal it up again for how long ...


who knows?

Put the lid on the container, go in Jessie's closet and put it back on the shelf.

I turn around, leave the closet and turn out the light.


Then, suddenly, I turn back around - step back into the dim closet, look up and whisper "Bye baby, love you ..."

And then I quietly turn and shut the door ...