http://webkittynwarbles.com/index.php/ en webkittyn@webkittynwarbles.com Copyright 2009 2009-06-21T04:59:20-05:00 http://webkittynwarbles.com/index.php/site/happy_fathers_day/ Letter Writing, Remembering Chuck
This year I've gained membership to a club I never wanted to be a part of; a club for those who go through greeting card holidays without having the holiday's focus in our lives. It sucks, it's a pretty sucky club but here I am on my first Father's Day without my dad here. How am I doing? Honestly? Crappy. I knew I'd be in bad shape but right now it's really bad shape. I can admit it, right now I'm just sad and nothing anyone says or does is going to change that. I'm rational enough to know it's brought on by a stupid greeting card holiday but the loss is still real and if I get one more fucken ad from the online greeting companies to "send Dad and ecard" I'm going to kill someone.

And a happy birthday to my mother who instead of celebrating turning 70 went to bed holding a stuffed pig and cried so loud I had to turn on the AC so I didn't hear it.

As for me, I've run out of tears for the moment and I'm actually taking some solace in looking at some old pictures of my dad when he looked like a thug in the 50's and when he dragged his whining daughter across country in the ugly green station wagon.

This sucks, is it Wednesday yet?

In lieu of the ecard this year...

Dear Dad,

Well Chuck, aint this the shit. You were supposed to be here, apparently you promised her you would get up and go out for brunch to celebrate the two days together. You were supposed to be here for me as I missed last year with you and was looking forward to this year. But you're not here, you stopped fighting the fight and you're not here.

I'm not angry anymore, I don't blame you to be honest. Some readers might find this morbid but tough shit if they do. She and I talked about the night you died, it was the first time since you came home you truly had a smile on your face. If I was a person of faith maybe I'd be thinking it's because you went with God or to Heaven but ya know what? I think you were just finally out of pain and tired of fighting and okay with letting go. All the signs were there that last week and going back into the hospital would have been both the obvious next step and the one thing in the world you did not want.

I'm not angry but I'm really really sad. I didn't realise how much the little things we shared mattered. I don't have that bond with her. She doesn't care about my websites or videos by crazy gay Dutch guys. She doesn't follow who is who in my life and keep up with the latest bands and movies. She doesn't get that tingle in her head when a new Cross or Bosch novel is announced.

She's doing as well as she can though, she tries to hide how much pain she's in but she's never been good at hiding things.

I've been looking at old pictures and reading the letters you sent to me when I was in Albany Med and you were in the Center. How sick you were but you still worried about me. I can't help but wonder how much worrying about me didn't help you.

I wish you were here to go through the lawsuit with me. There were so many things I wanted to be able to buy for you that you deserved. You were the best dad a girl could ever have wanted and I'm sorry I wasn't able to give you more when you needed it. Lunch and company wasn't much to offer but I loved every minute of both and I would give my last bit of kidney function to have you ask me to re-heat the soup one more time.

The ecard companies are making me nuts, how many hundreds of those things did I send you over the years..

I know you'd be pissed at a lot of things around here, I know you would tell me to be nicer to her and appreciate her more. I'm trying, I promise you I'm trying but I'm struggling.

I really miss you. There are days where I only cry once the whole day and there are days I hardly stop. It's hard to believe it's been five months. I keep waiting for this miraculous 'it gets easier with time' I keep hearing but maybe I'm just pushing too hard for it to come too soon. You really were my best friend and so much more than a dad. We made that transition from father/daughter to father/daughter/friend and you left one hell of a gap in my life there, Chuckie.

I don't want to watch bad zombie movies with anyone else. That was our thing. I haven't watched a bad zombie movie since.

I just want you to know how much I miss you and that I love you and that you're supposed to be here.

Happy Father's Day, Dad. Thank you for being the best and for giving me a lifetime of love. I really really miss you.

With love,

Your 'fucking pothead' daughter]]> 2009-06-21T04:59:20-05:00 http://webkittynwarbles.com/index.php/site/is_it_wednesday_yet/ Family, Remembering Chuck
I don't need to go into how tough this first Father's Day is. Last year I was too sick to go see my dad but he was doing better so I bought him and my mother lunch from Red Lobster and they ate at the Center. And I thought that was depressing.

This year it's double whammy year, doesn't it just figure that when you need it the least it hits?

My mother's birthday is June 21st and every seven years her birthday happens to fall on Father's Day. Yah, that would be this year. Joy. She'll be 70.

My dad didn't leave the house much towards the end, it was that hard for him to breathe. However, my mother had made him promise that on Father's Day / her birthday they would go out to brunch.

Needless to say, it's pretty bad around here. I'm doing the best I can to keep my own head above water and trying to keep her as okay as possible but I'm fighting a losing battle.

Tonight's she's got a friend's graduation to go to and a big party for this person on Saturday so it's something. I have no idea how the rest of it's going to go.

She took the 23rd off from work as well, it's five months to the day since he died and too close to her birthday for her to be at work.

I want the week to be over. I want to blink my eyes and be done with all of the week and have it be the 24th. I want to be past that first Father's Day and I think I can mentally prepare myself in seven years for the next double whammy.

Golf is on, the Open is on. I would have been spending as much time as possible watching every second of it with my dad and it's both comforting and really sad at the same time. I miss him so much still. It's been five months and it hasn't lessened at all.

I'm not drowning in sad though, as much as it may sound like it. I take comfort in quite a few things and am appreciative of all the little things that manage to pull my thoughts away for a few minutes and maybe even make me smile.

I just want this first Father's Day over.

Let's go, Tiger. Win this one for Chuckie.

]]> 2009-06-18T12:11:02-05:00 http://webkittynwarbles.com/index.php/site/lawyers_guns_money_lawsuit_updates/ Personal Stuff
My lawyer called me today. Not his assistant, not is paralegal - him. It was a whole different tone on the phone than the last time I spoke with him. He was extremely encouraging without building too much hope but he was definitely encouraging.

He said he's ready to move on my case. My case. It wasn't my case before. He said his team of experts had reviewed what I sent to him (a small portion of the records) and they were ready to move on my case. He said he had 'spent all morning on your case.'

Last week when his assistant called me and asked me for some further papers, she apologised for his not getting back to me yet and told me he was in court and had 38 cases in review. That he went out of his way to jump me to the top and tell me he spent all morning on my case was the most encouraging feeling I've had.

Then the axe fell.

This guy is not an ambulance chaser. He's a real deal private attorney and the only reason he took me in the first place to review was as a favour to a friend. He doesn't have doctors on staff who can be called as expert witnesses but are also easy to dispute. He has an independent team of doctors (a kidney specialist, a lung specialist and one or two others) who he works with. They are not on his payroll.

This group is the group who reviewed what was sent which is about 1/4 of all the paperwork. I know that the three days in the ICU at Northern Dutchess alone had 136 pages of records and I've got eight weeks in AMC and three weeks in KH?

The problem?

It's going to cost $2000 for the fee to hire the expert witnesses. I don't even know if hire is the right word. First they subpoena all my records. Then I imagine they have someone who works for them go through the records page by page and highlight the important stuff. We're talking thousands of pages of records here. Then this group makes the final call as to whether there was medical malpractice and assesses the level of severity of the malpractice and the aftermath.

He told me straight out that he is fully aware of my financial situation, being on disability with a small check and hardly anything left over. He told me he would not encourage me to move forward on it unless he really thought there was a case, unless his group had done the preliminary report and with what they had were willing to say yes, there is something here.

Normally it would have cost in the $3000 area for such an extensive review requiring so many 'experts' but he was able to get it down to the $2000. I can understand the cost, when you start dealing with specialists it's always going to involve money for time. It's also a whole lot of records to read and a strange and tricky case to follow (everyone who gets into it calls it 'fascinating.' I'm 'fascinating.').

It was the best news I've gotten in a while. I was worried he was going to say there was nothing there but that was just me. Darkstar and everyone who lived through it with me seemed sure there was something there but I needed that confirmation from the lawyer to make it real. It helps a little bit with the long-term acceptance and coping. These people hurt me and it's not just me saying it now, it's people who are trained in these things.

But shit on a stick, 2 grand might as well be 2 million when you have nothing. I have no idea where I'm supposed to come up with 2 grand but I'm sure as hell going to try. I'd go sell a kidney but that wouldn't get me very far.

I will make this happen somehow.

In the meantime, it just feels really good inside to have that validation. I can knock a small piece of the chip off my shoulder now. Save the rest for when this is over.

2 grand. Shit.
]]> 2009-06-10T03:43:01-05:00 http://webkittynwarbles.com/index.php/site/i_remember1/ NaBloPoMo June 2009, War and Such
Today is not just another day.

Never forget, we can't be allowed to forget.

]]> 2009-06-06T16:34:01-05:00 http://webkittynwarbles.com/index.php/site/heroes_post_one_my_dad/ NaBloPoMo June 2009
Even if he hadn't died in January my dad would still be my hero but this is just one more thing I can do in honour of him. He's been my hero for as long as I can remember and it wasn't just because I was a daddy's girl my whole life.

My dad had it rough. His own father died in WWII when he was very small and his mother was a Finnish speaking immigrant who decided, after months of physical abuse, that she no longer wanted to care for a son as a widow. She dumped her Finnish speaking son on her dead husband's sisters and mother and never looked back ever. That was the last contact he had with his mother and while he was young, he was old enough to know his mother abandoned him (he was around 10).

He grew up poor but loved in an Irish-Catholic family that nurtured the hell out of him. He was given a love of education and family and while they may not have had much, they had love and they had each other. He grew, he went to school, he worked, he became a solid young man.

He served his country as a member of the US Air Force, those were some of the best times he ever had. He was stationed in Alaska for a while and he had so many awesome stories of life in Alaska, life in the Air Force in the 50's and the many times they would get in trouble. When he came out he went to college, got his degree and moved on to graduate work.

While in school he met, courted and married my mother. Theirs was a whirlwind romance culminating in my drunken father chasing my mother's car with his Good Humour truck all through Mt. Vernon until she gave him a shot. She was a spoiled Jewish rich girl who was totally out of his league but he won her over and they were married on New Year's Eve.

His passion had always been reading, he was a man who would read any and every book he got his hands on. Somewhere along the way he made a decision to buck the system and follow his dream. He walked away from teaching and entered the world of rare book dealing. He would spend every free minute trolling library sales, estate sales, tag sales and eventually he built up a stock large enough to open a store.

I came along during all of this and I could not have asked for a better father. He taught me the wonder of reading at an early age and would pack us all into the car during the Summer to drive across the country so I could experience everything the US had to offer. He sent me to private school and Summer camp from his book business and maintained a home with a pool and all the amenities.

He loved my mother in a way you don't see very often anymore. They were together 47 years and were as in love at the end as they were on day one. He was my mother's first and only lover and if there is such a thing as a 'soul mate,' he was hers.

He had a warped and perverse sense of humour which he also passed along to me. When I was 5 and curious about the basement (where I didn't belong), he told me not to go down there because the washing machine was actually a monster that ate children. He loved to scare me and I loved it when he did it. He never let things get boring, on the weekends there were always trips to the zoo, aquarium, botanical gardens, museums, fairs, anything and everything.

He pushed me, he challenged me, he made me work hard at everything I did.

When I was 14, my dad officially became my hero in a true superhero sense. I had been molested earlier that Summer by a freak of nature employed by the camp I went to. I wasn't raped but stuff went on and a 34 year old man isn't supposed to restrain a 14 year old until she jerks him off. There was a camp reunion I insisted on going to and the pervert actually had the nerve to show up. My father flew into a rage like I had never seen before and went after this guy like a raging bull. I think he would have killed him if security for the place hadn't broken it up. My eyes shined for my daddy in a whole new light that night. That night he was my daddy, Superman, Batman and all the others wrapped into one rare book dealer.

As we both aged, he remained my best friend and the one person I could tell everything to. He didn't always understand what I was going on about but he listened and he laughed and he was always there for me. When I moved out I would call him every day for at least an hour and we would just talk or watch golf together over the phone.

I lost my dad in January after a year-long bout with multiple issues that almost killed him a few times. He went peacefully in his sleep, here at the house with a smile on his face. I'm still not doing very well but I try.

There are no heroes for me any more heroic than my dad so I wanted to start June's NaBloPoMo off with the right note. Every little girl should have a dad who is her best friend, her dad and her hero. I was definitely one of the lucky ones.

I love you, Dad.]]> 2009-06-01T23:07:00-05:00 http://webkittynwarbles.com/index.php/site/eight_month_updates/ Health, Mind & Body
I've got so much updating to do, I'm not going to cram it into one ginormous post. This one is for the ongoing kidney issues.

Last full blood test I took was in November. They did some in Feb. but not all of the tests. I know, I know. Not smart at all when you have end stage renal disease. I put it off because I didn't want bad news before Christmas. Then my dad died and I couldn't handle bad news if it was bad news so it got put off even more. It was always there in the back of my head but it's easier not to deal with things than stand up and say let's go. The possibility of hearing 'it's time, Heather. You're going on the transplant list' scares the shit out of me. So I put it off.

The puking has gotten considerably worse. It's not every day but it can be up to 12 times in one day on a prime day and unless I've turned bulimic and no one reminded me, that much barfing is just not kosher.

So I broke down and went to the first doctor, my general practitioner doctor. He did a bunch of blood tests and got on me for not exercising more and suggested I might have 'anger issues' as a result of everything I've gone through the past year.

I've been waiting all week for the results, leave it to me to go get blood done on a holiday week so it's not a 2 day turnaround. I finally broke down today and called after a particularly unpleasant puke session.

My diet of beef and 44 ounce slushes seems to be working. I'll be damned, it's working.

A year ago I was in the early stages of dialysis. September when they thought I was okay enough to take me off my creatinine was a 4.7 and my BUN a 46. Potassium was 5.5 and phosphorus 5.2. Higher than they should have been but good enough to get off dialysis.

Normal levels should be between 3.5 to 5.5 for phosphorus, creatinine should be around 1.3, BUN should be around 23 and potassium should be around 3.5 to 5.5.

When I went in February my BUN was a 41 and creatinine a 3.8 and they didn't check the other two.

As of today we got the following:

Creatinine: 2.73
Phosphorus: 4.1
Potassium: 5.0
BUN: 47

So the phosphorus and potassium are fine, the creatinine is OUTSTANDING. I have end stage renal disease. I have 20% kidney function. Yet somehow my creatinine DROPS A FULL POINT! This means my 20% kidneys are holding their own.

As for the BUN. It's high. It's lower than it was when I was taken off dialysis but it did go up 6 points since Feb. which concerns me. GI bleeds and other internal things can mess with BUN though and since the creatinine went down, I'm thinking it's something to do with the increased puking. But even though it was high, it was still low enough to keep me off dialysis as long as I'm willing to follow up with the next doctor.

I have to go to a gastroenterologist and find out what's up with the barfing. They think it's primary cause are the toxins my 20% kidneys aren't filtering into my pee. They have to come out somehow so I'm puking them out. Lovely. Hey, it's better than dialysis. Give me a barf bag over a filter machine any day. What they want to see is if any ulcers have developed or if there is damage from so much puking up toxins.

I've put this off because my mother (the Queen of Gloom and Doom) told me I'd have to get some test where they stick a tube down your throat to look at your stomach. No, no you will not. She couldn't explain how the tube goes down without my gagging over and over and choking myself or how it doesn't hurt like the end of the world so I haven't made the appointment yet.

I think it's time to face the fear and make the damn appointment.

Let's be real, I'm getting a real break here. My case still amazes the doctors, people just don't come back from ESRD. I push the limits enough with the diet I eat (but hey, it all comes back up at 7 in the morning anyway!) so let's not push it with the BUN. The low creatinine was enough for me to believe my kidneys are hanging in there so the BUN has to be stomach related. Maybe they can sedate me before they tube me, maybe they'll just want to check the puke first in the lab. Who knows, it's just time to do it.

So that's the news on that. Better than I hoped for albeit confusing. I'll leave it to the lawyer to determine if it really is ESRD or was it Kingston's stupidity that gave me chronic renal insufficiency instead, I have no clue. A true diagnosis would mean another kidney biopsy and I'm not in love with that idea. I'd do it if I needed it for court and they did it at Albany Medical Center but I've been cut open enough in the past 18 months. We'll see.

One step at a time. One small frustrating step at a time.

Today we celebrate lowered creatinine.

]]> 2009-05-26T16:24:00-05:00 http://webkittynwarbles.com/index.php/site/happy_easter_dad/ Remembering Chuck
Easter wasn't a religious holiday for us but it was a big one. My grandmother and two aunts always came over for the day and my parents would spend hours before I woke up hiding eggs and silly little toys and fun stuff. I'd wake up and have some sort of special Easter breakfast my dad would cook and we'd wait for the company and the great hunt.

A lot of love and effort went into those hunts and those special Easter meals. My dad would always put on silly rabbit ears or a nose or something, he really went out of his way to make it a kid-fun super-holiday.

Yesterday I watched the Masters without him, today it's Easter without him. Watching the golf was comforting and sad at the same time, I would have been watching it with him in shock over how Kenny Perry is playing and rooting for Tiger. I felt close to him watching it and that was comforting but it was also a deep level of sad.

Last year I spent Easter in Albany Medical Center without even so much as one smuggled in Peep. The high point of my dad was a ridiculous pink straw hat my mother brought up that I insisted on wearing all day and even for my walk outside. Made the nurses laugh, made some of the patients on my floor laugh and it made me feel a little better.

Tonight we're going out to dinner for the first Easter dinner out ever. No one really wanted to cook or sit home with the empty chair at the dining room table.

I'm not sure how I'm feeling, very split down the middle. So many great memories of Easters past with my family and so much sad for the way it is now. At least it's split down the middle and not all sad, I'll take that.

Happy Easter, Dad. Thank you for all those hunts and what was behind them.

And a happy Easter to anyone wandering by to read this. Whatever the holiday means for you, I hope it's spent with people you care for and who let you know you are cared for.

Happy Passover as well, can't forget Passover!]]> 2009-04-12T14:22:02-05:00 http://webkittynwarbles.com/index.php/site/admission_is_the_first_step_to_recovery_things_are_out_of_control/ Personal Stuff
When I was in Albany Med. last year I went through a phase. Come to think of it, it was probably right around now but I can't say for sure. It was a two week phase and it was a bad one. I was pissed off at the world and over-flowing with self-pity. Pissed at the doctors for sending me to a hospital 2 hours from home and 4 hours from my best friend. Pissed that I spent so much time alone watching other people have visitors. Pissed that I had a catheter in my chest and had to go to dialysis three times a week. Pissed that I was so far from my dad who was going through his own Hell.

I took all that pissed and reacted badly. First I withdrew into myself. Wouldn't get on the computer, unplugged the phone. I'd stay up all night watching tv and listening to the nursing station right across the hall and sleep the day away. I was resentful and hurting and I got mean. I actually threw my mother out of my room after she drove 2 hours to get there because she came late and told me she could only stay an hour as she wouldn't drive it alone and the people she came with had to be back. I knew I was hurting her and I didn't care, it felt good. It made me feel better seeing her hurt and then after she left it hit me and made me feel like an even bigger piece of shit, increasing the pissed off/resentful/self-piteous side.

For two weeks I did this, I told my mother not to bother coming up and wouldn't take calls either. They kept trying to feed me xanax and they even had the head of the psych dept. come down to talk to me but finally I pulled myself out of it. No epiphany, no defining moment, it just happened. I think I was standing outside in the rain smoking my nightly cigarette. I hadn't known it was raining when I made the trek downstairs to go smoke and being the weakling I am who needed her nightly cig, I walked outside in the rain in my socks and my hospital robe and puffed my ass off. I felt like a loser and a dumbass and I must have been quite the sight to the people who saw me. It was so pathetic it was darkly funny and I found myself simply tired of the way I had been acting. It wasn't going to change the kidney failure and what the fuck was I doing being mean to my mother? It was that simple, I plugged the phone back in and called my mother and spoke to the friends who called and started sort of enjoying being stuck in a hospital as much as anyone can.

Now I find myself in a similar situation and it's sickening me that I'm doing it again and it's got to fucking stop. Tonight I was really mean to my mother and I knew I was being a serious bitch. I knew I was saying things for the sole purpose of hurting her and the more I said, the more I kept going.

She's been going to a grief counselour the past few weeks and she told me she had been thinking about doing herself in because it was that hard to be without my dad. She claims it was only the first few days after he died but it was like a sledgehammer to my skull and it pissed me off. On a purely selfish level, I can't fucking take anymore, it's been a year like few ever have to endure and if she offed herself that would be the end of what's left of my sanity.

This house is depressing, it's like a prison. I don't have a car yet and it's too far to walk or use any other mode of transportation to get anywhere so I'm stuck here alone all day in a house that I never wanted to live in and moved to because of my dad. She took down all the little keepsakes and crap that were around the house that were his, it's cold and empty and sad.

My stupid birthday made it all even worse. The only voice I wanted to hear say happy birthday I couldn't hear and it intensified the loss a hundred times.

I had a rooster, I've written about him and posted pictures. It may sound silly but I had bonded with the thing. My dad used to laugh when I would run out to give it bread and it would take it from my hand. Whenever it got hungry it would jump on the rail outside my window and make his noise and I'd throw some bread out the window. He was a distraction from the sad and the empty and I couldn't wait for it to get warm to go sit outside and talk to him.

He disappeared. Hasn't been seen or heard from in too many days and I miss him. Enough fucken loss. I know it's only a rooster and it wasn't even really mine but he was one of the few things that actually got me to smile these days.

I'm deeply sunk in a phase like I was in the hospital. I was talking to Jen on the phone the other night (a very good friend for a long time) and we were talking about just wanting to be left alone. How hard it is to even do a simple thing like put 'I'm okay' on facebook or twitter so I know I'm not totally crazy, there are people out there who get it.

I'm not sure how to get out of this one though or if I even really want to yet. I've got a truly self-destructive schedule going on and it works for the pity party. A few tylenol PM around midnight so I sleep somewhere around 2-3. No matter what I wake up between 6 and 7. Watch Third Watch and Crossing Jordan and then hopefully Maury is doing paternity tests. I get back to sleep anywhere from 11-1 and wake up again around 3. Sit around and feel sorry for myself and think about my dad and cry and the next thing I know she's on her way home.

She gets home and she carries this air of such sadness with her. There's some form of dinner and she plops herself in here with me in the recliner (the special one she bought for him last summer) and alternates between sleep, tears and watching tv. She goes to bed after the 11PM news and every night I can hear her crying herself to sleep.

And what do I do? Lash out at her like some kind of fucking psycho bitch because I'm sad and miserable and festering and not dealing with it. The only person I've got left in the world who really gives a fuck and the person who is suffering in a way I'll never understand. What the fuck.

We won't discuss my blood pressure, even with the lisinopril and coreg. I'm pushing limits with my kidneys and I know it but do I stop? No. Do I care? Not at the moment, no.

Talking to a professional won't help. I didn't want the damn xanax then and I don't want it now and I don't want to talk to a stranger. Nothing wrong with it but I'd rather talk to Darkstar if I felt like talking.

I don't like what I'm doing, I don't like what I'm feeling, I don't like my day to day. I want my rooster.

I need to stop this shit with my mother. I need to come to terms with the sadness (I hate the word grief) and the loss and the permanence. It's sinking in now that he's really gone and it's the really fucked up stage. I wake up every day waiting for acceptance but so far it eludes me. I do know there are big problems in my head right now and my coping mechanisms are destructive and self-destructive. It's easy to talk the talk though, the walking is the hard part. Why do we take that sick pleasure in making someone weak feel bad? It's fucken psycho. I'm borderline psycho these days.

I hate looking in the mirror right now, I can see inside and I don't like what's there but I've made myself a nice little space in the muck and there I stay curled up in it.

Danger. Will Robinson. Dr. Smith has gone psycho.

No more of this shit with my mother. Fuck the rest of it, I can handle the sadness and the self-destructive part but I will not hurt her for spite anymore. Those tears I heard from her room tonight were partially because of me and that's just too fucken much to own up to but I am.

Someone toss me a lifesaver, I'm fucken drowning.




]]> 2009-03-27T04:21:02-05:00 http://webkittynwarbles.com/index.php/site/birthdays_now_and_then/ Personal Stuff
Last year I spent my birthday in a hospital bed with a catheter in my chest and a room full of balloons. I thought it was as bad as it gets. I was wrong.

Tomorrow night we'll be going out to dinner for my birthday, my first birthday and birthday dinner without my dad. I wish it was any other day but my birthday, I have never felt more un-birthday. It amplifies the sadness and the emptiness and the loss a thousand times.

A few people have really gone above and beyond to try and help me this birthday, you know who you are. It's amazing how something as simple as a card can really bring a smile. Thank you. As soon as I make it past tomorrow I'll do my personal thanking, it's just hard enough as it is to keep it together for my mother and my stupid birthday.

I would go back to the hospital birthday in a second if these things were possible.

I really miss my dad.

Fuck it, at least there will be cake. Give me a fork and some milk and let me have at it.]]> 2009-03-19T02:10:02-05:00 http://webkittynwarbles.com/index.php/site/for_my_mother_and_the_cats/ Pointless Flummery
Good kitties.

Here's the link, nice and easy for the meows, freshly updated.]]> 2009-03-12T04:33:02-05:00