Rain Fall

I fell out of my car on Tuesday, April 14, 2009. It was after my genealogy class (yes, I take a genealogy class, I have now entered womanhood). I got all my dad’s names, he’s got like 37,449, some crazy amount but he didn’t send any to the temple because he just didn’t know how and it’s very, very difficult to learn from the old people at the genealogy library, so no one wants to. Anyway, I was leaving the class and getting into my car, but it was raining very hard. I positioned the slideboard and slid across, but the wetness of the board stuck to my jeans and I pulled it across before I was over, so the chair slid away and I was barely in the car with the sideboard. The slideboard fell to the ground and I went with it (after a lot of struggling to pull myself inside the car). I fell into a puddle of water. My slideboard was on the ground next to me and the wheelchair was also. I was soaked on the underside because of the puddle, but I was soaked on top because it was raining so hard. I was just soaked.

Worst of all, I was so embarrassed. I was sitting in a water puddle in the rain and I couldn’t do anything about it. I couldn’t climb back into the car (even though I tried) and I couldn’t call Whit because I had already thrown the phone to the passenger seat with my purse. So there I sat, looking pathetic and feeling even worse. The only thing I really could do was wait for someone to come by so they could hand me the phone so I could call Whit to come help me. Everyone at that place is super old and for sure they wouldn’t be able to do anything themselves.

A big white van pulled out of its parking stall and passed me slowly, but didn’t stop. Some old people walked by, but I don’t think they saw me through the pouring rain. I sat for a while (it felt like forever) and decided I’d have to get my phone myself. I couldn’t get it through the car, so I had to scoot around the whole car and open the passenger door to get it. Scooting is just jerking my whole body in the direction I need to go. I can go forwards or backwards only, backwards is easier –and better in this case because I was facing the same direction as the car and it would be easy to go backwards around the back of the car. I had to go slowly though and be very careful so I didn't slide my body across the gravely pavement and get a sore on my legs or bum. Sore-caused infections are the number one cause of death for spinal cord injuries and they are a big no-no – they take months to heal and you’re bedridden the entire time. So I began my treacherous, death-defying, scoot, but I only go like six inches before 'Grandma Insane' spots me.

She’s a very old lady and she walked by once on the sidewalk, then turned around and walked by again, then one more time really slow (she was already really slow to begin with, so I mean REALLY slow). I don’t know her age, but she had shoulder length (with bangs) dyed Fowler-brown hair that was thin. She had lots of wrinkles and was very thin herself, not just skinny, but frail thin. She came up to my side of the car and said with a sweet, shaky voice, “You know, you probably don’t need my help, but I just wanted to know if there was something I could do.”

I told her I couldn’t get in myself and asked her if she could please hand me my cell phone so I cold call my husband. I had to convince her that he worked close enough to come help me, but even then she wouldn’t get me my phone and insisted that she could pick me up. I was like, “No thanks, I really don’t think –“

“Oh yes,” as she moved the wheelchair – barely because it’s heavy and she tried to pick it up by the handles and shift it, “I think together we can do it.”

“No please,” I begged, “you don’t understand, just get me my phone and I’ll call my husband, he’s just one minute away and he’ll be here fast!”

Meanwhile, rain is pouring down and she is coming closer.

“I think this will work,” as she picks up my left arm with both her hands, expecting me to miraculously stand up.

“No, no, please, just hand me my phone, or go inside and grab somebody – anybody –to come out and help us!” I was thinking that somebody else would get me my phone.

“Oh come on, honey,” as she bends down and grabs me like she’s picking up a 3 pound toddler, you know, with both hands in the armpits. “One…” I look at her through the pouring rain in frustrated disbelief. “Two…” I close my eyes and hope she doesn’t fall on top of me in her futile attempt. “Three…”

And if I wasn’t there I would not have believed it. That frail, shaky, old woman, who is half Kat’s size, single-handedly picked me up and shoved me into the driver’s seat, then turned, and shuffled away.

I guess miracles come in many shapes and sizes...and ages.

Car

Last night, Whit and I opened a bottle of Martinelli's and snuggled close on the couch (with the laptop) and paid off our Subaru! Yay! We toasted and cheered and smooched.

Babies

I guess it's because I'm in a wheelchair, but no one ever asks us when we're going to have kids. Just for both of you blog readers, yes, I can have kids. Inside I'm all normal, so I just have to be a little careful to plan stuff like making babies. Anyway, we watched our nephew Cael last weekend and when he went out with Whit to run errands, he asked the faux paus question: Are you guys going to have kids? Can Meg even have kids? Whit said he laughed a little and said that yeah, Meg can have kids and we'd have them someday. Whit said that Cael was quiet for a minute and then asked, "Will they be in wheelchairs?"

heh heh heh

(just for the record, if anyone's confused, no, spinal cord injuries are not genetic)

Easter

Easter is the second biggest holiday at the Hendleman house. We do the whole egg hunt and we have an Easter Egg Cupcake-off (even though no Hendlemen really like cake).

This year, the hunters were:
Tom
Jamie
Gabe
Kat
Blake
Cael
Whit
Meg
Hendlemom
Hendledad
*John is at training and Mindy was at work.

and the rules were:
anything goes. But if you find a sticker, you have to put it on your head to get a prize. Prizes include anything that was too big to fit in the eggs (like giant sticks of beef jerky).

Hendlemom put plastic lips in the eggs. It made for some fun smooching.

We had our second annual Cupcake-off. Last year’s was immensely disappointing to Whit, who was new to the Hendleman house – when we said “Cupcake-off,” he undoubtedly had visions of mounds of cupcakes – chocolate frosted, sprinkles, candies – the works. He was surprised (to say the least) when we arrived, with our “normal” cupcakes in tow, to see the competitors: Kat had dished sugar-free homemade tapioca into little cups and Hendlemom had crafted tiny pie crusts filled with hollandaise sauce and stood three spears of asparagus tied with a red pepper bow in it. Azucena, had she been able to make it, would have brought her cupcakes made of play dough. Whit went ballistic – “Don’t call it a Cupcake-off if it’s a One-Serving-off!” He never let it die all year; whenever we went to my mom’s, he’d ask if we were having asparagus cupcakes.

So, this year, the rules were a little more specific and the entries were a little…sweeter.

Cael frosted chocolate chip bottom brownie cupcakes (that Kat made).
Kat had brought half a cake leftover from their adoption celebrations.
Tom made nutty caramel swirled brownies.
I made egg-shaped cakes filled with whipping cream and drizzled with strawberry syrup.
Hendlemom made ginger cupcakes topped with whipping cream, chocolate candies, and a miniature second ginger cake (Whit said she definitely made up for last year)

We voted and I won – whew. I love winning.

I was talking to Blake and Tom afterward, telling them that the strawberry syrup I drizzled over the cakes had initially started out as strawberry jam. Whit said he really liked homemade strawberry jam, so I tried to make some, but just ended up with really thick syrup – you couldn’t even tell that there were any strawberries to begin with except that it tasted super strawberry strong. The next part of the conversation went like this…

Tom: And you used the syrup in the cupcakes?
Meg: Yeah, I drizzled it on the tops.
Tom: They’re all pink. It looks like you did more than drizzle.
Meg: I had a lot of syrup.
Tom: So the syrup was supposed to be jam?
Meg: Yep.
Tom: So…you’re telling me that you soaked the cupcakes in failure?
Meg: Well, yeah, I guess so. But I won, didn’t I?
Tom: And so, in failing, you succeed.

- dun dun dun –

Stand by me

This link is wonderful.

http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=2539741

Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya tomorrow!

This happened last Christmas time, but I keep thinking about it and wanted to share.

I had just learned how to tease my hair with a comb. To do it, I take a stretchy headband and wrap it around my left hand three times, then I wedge the comb in the band and push it through some of the teeth so it holds. My left hand had a surgery a long time ago, so it can kind of hold things all alone, so I use that hand to hold the hair and the comb to do the teasing. My hair has been the single largest frustration since being paralyzed, no one could get it to look how I want, especially me. So learning this was a big, big deal.

I'd been doing my own hair for a couple weeks (and loving it). I keep my stretchy headband around my right wrist like a bracelet, always at the ready, and a comb in my purse, in my car, and with my make-up. But, I'm awesome at leaving my purse comb in my car or putting my car comb in my purse or taking my make-up comb with me when I leave the house. I was always losing my combs at first - I guess I just wasn't used to having them.

Around Christmas time, I had lost them all and needed one - badly - to do my hair for Sunday. Late Saturday night, Whit and I went to Big Lots near our house for the specific purpose of purchasing a comb. Since our list was small, we didn't get a basket. As we roamed the store, we found other "necessities" we needed like toilet paper, chips, some peanuts, and a few other things in addition to a small pack of combs. We didn't have any basket, so we just piled everything onto my lap.

We checked out and paid with our card (we rarely have cash on us). Whit carried the bags and I was right behind him when I looked on my lap and saw the combs! We didn't pay for them. We looked back into the store and, because it was so late, they just had one cashier open and the line was so long! Whit grunted that he didn't want to buy just the 45 cent combs on the credit card since we didn't have any cash on us.

Grr!

I was so grumpy, but he promised me that he'd look through the house and find my combs when we got back.

On our way back to our house, we stopped by Betos and got a burrito. The lady overcharged Whit's card by a lot but didn't know how to refund his money on the card, so she just gave him cash back - yay! I was excited and told him he could run back into the store and buy those combs now! We weren't very far from the store anyway - but instead of turning right to go back to the store, he turned left to go back home!

I was freaking out, telling him that I'd already looked everywhere in the whole house and he'd never find them! He promised me that he would and kept driving. At home, he sat me on the couch while he looked. I was super grumpy because I already had looked and didn't think he could find them.

It has been a sore spot in our marriage that Whit isn't as lavish with his compliments as I'm used to. Sometimes it's hard when he doesn't take note of how I look. I'm definitely used to more verbal praise.

But I could see that he was trying and I want to be a good wife. I tried to be calm and tell him that without my comb, my hair isn't going to look very good tomorrow (for church) and if he could please, please just tell me that he likes my hair, it would make me feel so much better tomorrow morning.

So exasperated, he comes into the family room and, with both arms wide, tells me with his whole being: I DO like your hair tomorrow!

April Fools

Little brother John got married yesterday in the Bountiful Temple. He was always such a Don Juan that Mom always thought he’d be the first (but third is good, too). It was fun and the reception was really pretty. Mom did all the food and it was amazing. She made teriyaki meatballs, sausage in dilled hollandaise, crab in cabbage leaves, little cheesecakes, chicken “pillows,” raspberry asparagus, iced grape kabobs in sorbet, and tortilla sandwich wraps. She also had a fifty pound block of cheese with tons of fruit. We all helped to pull it together (I took pictures) and it was a success!



John is very sentimental (like he keeps funny stuffed animals and things from who knows how long ago). Anyway, it was important to him that his first night with his new wife they sleep in “their” bed in “their” own place. But “their” bed is really his bed and “their” place is really his parent’s place because they’re staying in the basement for a couple months before they move to Belgium for a while John does some massage training. But John insisted on staying there for their “honeymoon” night and so my parents booked a hotel to get out of the way. When Whit heard this, he couldn’t believe it and was convinced that this was the perfect chance for some April Fool’s fun. He got a hold of 3,000 square feet of industrial saran wrap and he, Blake (Kat’s hubby), Tom (brother), Cael (nephew), Patrick (friend), and Jeff (friend) went to “their” place and seriously saran wrapped their bed – both ways and around the edge.

They put some rose petals on it so it didn’t look like such a heartless prank. But after it was completed, Tom said they probably should have first wrapped up the sheets and then the outside comforter. So they threw an extra blanket on top and wrapped it up again.

They then signed their names all over it…including the names of those of us who had no involvement whatsoever (Kat and me…and the dog).

Of course, why would five guys stop with the bed? Jeff brought some rootbeer bottles and a bucket of ice and they wrapped it up. Then they wrapped up miscellaneous items on the night stand and around the room. Then they scoured the ENTIRE house and hid every sharp object they found. They had one pair of scissors and wrapped it up tight and left it on the bed (they now regret not wrapping it INTO the bed).

Whit has not stopped laughing about it.