Sorry to have alarmed you all. (Or y'all, if I was still in Texas, but I'm not, so there.) All is well in Porterland. Amos' toe is less swollen and much less red, and I am not a twin to Sinead O'Connor. Phew!
It seems that many folks thought I might be going off the deep end in my blog yesterday. Fear not, patriots. I am well. I was trying to relay a moment-by-moment momentary freak out that I had, using a bit of melodrama to play the tune. I guess with recent events, it seemed like I was going batty. Not so. I really do appreciate the thoughts and kind words, though. Really, I do.
While Amos' toe incident (or syndrome, if you believe the documents) was a bit scary for a short time, I find it to be on the cool side. Why? Because I'm a big fan of freaky biology. If there's anything I remember from my ol' biology days and science experiments, it's the freaky stuff. Amos' toe definitely falls into the category of "freak things that happen to kids". I should start a Freak Things That Happen to Amos museum, starting with his flat head pictures and rounding out to The Day We Almost Choked Off The Boy's Toe With Human Hair. Get your tickets right here, sir!
So, before we all start fretting that Sarah is not of sound mind, let me just say that I'm okay. I went through one hell of a month (and more) of family drama and tragedy, and I came out on the other side. It has taken this long for me to start believing the words of family and friends that I was incredibly strong and level-headed through the whole thing. And you know what? I really was. So was my sister, so she deserves a thousand merits of your consideration. Some people failed; some people prevailed. That's how tragedies work.
I'm pretty sure that if I can handle an angry, irresponsible, completely-in-denial yet incredibly intelligent dying father, followed by his death and the horrific way that funeral homes rape families over costs, finished with not one but TWO funeral services 400 miles apart, and topped with a cherry of incredibly naive and irresponsible relatives (who shall remain unnamed) and heart-wrenching letters from my father's friends and coworkers...
I think I can handle a hair around Amos' toe.
So, let's get back to thinking about me as the silly lil' lady who likes to talk smack, tell it like it is, laugh at you and with you, drink wine, and fret that while it is odd that cousins and friends of my father are now reading my blog, it's okay. Maybe it's good that people see the real me. Eh?
Yeah.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
There, there. There, there.
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6 beautiful people muttered something back:
I had a dream about you last night. You were making "home video newscasts" with you dad. I was making potato salad and I was asking you where you guys were filming and if I could come watch because it was soo cool. It was a nice dream.
Yes, you, not unlike Gloria Gaynor, will survive. Possibly following the same stages. First, being afraid, being petrified. Then being strong and knowing how to get along. So welcome back from outer space.
I'm sure any potential lady friends for Amos will enjoy the Freak Baby Museum.
You must do the museum. Like Phil said in about 16 years time think of the embarrassment you could cause him. I know it's a long time to wait but the pay off is great.
Welcome back, Real Sarah. So nice to have you back. And, none of my relatives read either of my blogs - and I'm glad.
I totally got the humor of your freak-out. I've learned that my daughter has wonderful memories of how even-tempered I was and how I handled everything with grace and calm. I was, apparently, very good at hiding the freaking inside me that you so generously shared with us this week. Since she is now a mother I have shared with her a few of the thoughts and feelings that I, again apparently, kept hidden at the time of the 'crisis.' I'm trying to encourage her to maintain her cool in front of the kids and freak-out in private. Maybe I should suggest that she get her own blog. Whadda ya think?
the next bottle of wine is on me!
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