Once Again, Sarah is Disappointed by the Medical Community

 

5:00AM.  Froedert Hospital check in. Don't I look thrilled?

Good morning!

So this week I continued the sage of the plugged ear (I've had a plugged ear for almost a year and the ENTs in my life couldn't figure out what to do) with a little procedure called a tympanomastoidectomy.  It's a thing, look it up.  Basically, for the last 11 months I've had a mystery substance in my right ear, plugging the ear and making it hard to hear.

5:10 AM. Still looking excited.
I was super excited (no I wasn't) about the surgery. I was going to be able to hear again! YAY!
I did have one request, and it's a request I make of any medical professional who removes something from my body:  I WANT TO SEE IT!
  Who let me see what came out of me? Let's go back:
Tonsils, age four. Nope.Mole removal, age six.  NopeCyst removal, age 23.  Nope.

No, not that Substance.  Probably.

After several procedures to drain the ear, the med team in charge of my ear (two ENTS, one of which is a moron, one primary care physician, who had no idea what was happening, an Urgent care doc, who said it was allergies, and a super specialist who finally agreed to operate after multiple trips to his big, shiny office.) we all decided (they decided) I should have surgery.

Baby: age 26. Let me see the baby, but not the afterbirth.

Baby, age 29.  Ditto.

Tooth extractions, all three of them: Nope.

Knee replacement.  Big Nope.

And now, here we are.  No one used the same word for what they removed, which was weird. Some called it an infection. Some called it inflamation.  Some just called it goo.  (okay, that was me.)

Tuesday was the big goo removal day.  Hubby drove me to the big hospital half an hour away from home.  We had to be there two hours ahead of kick off, so we had to be in the hospital no later than 5:15AM.  Do the math backwards. Yeah, it was early. And dark.  Also, they told me I couldn't take anything by mouth two hours before I arrived. Which means by 3:15AM I could not eat or drink anything.

Hubby was going to take off two days for this, but decided since surgery day was pretty much only going to involve him sitting around doing nothing, he decided to work in the waiting room. Clever hubby!

We got a great parking spot in the underground lot. (I mean, it was the middle of the night.) Hubby did notice that there was a plastic vodka bottle lying on the ground next to where we parked. Some kind of Omen or just random litter?

Vodka is a clear liquid, right?

Check in was fun. it is shocking how many people in SE Wisconsin needed surgery at 5AM on a Tuesday.  In true Midwest fashion, I started a conversation with the woman behind me, a lady with a smoky southern accent. She'd broken her pelvis and tailbone and was allowed to drink clear liquids much longer than I was.  She had coffee! 

As we chatted, I learned this about her:  1) Her surgeon was a week away from having a baby, and the lady was convinced the surgeon would go into labor before the surgery was done.  2) The woman did not get my sense of humor and clearly believe they were removing a nest of spiders from my head.

I wasn't in the check in room long before they called me in.  As Hubby and I walked toward the doors, this lady looks at me from across the very full waiting room and yells "Good luck with your spiders!"

Alrighty then.

They got me settled into a bed in Bay 9.  Apparently, they don't do blankets anymore. on the bed was this large, inflatable paper bag, inflated and heated by a hose that was connected to the wall.  Lucky me, I was having multiple hot flashes so...yeah...that thing got turned off right away.  (Post op, here at home, I really could have used it.)

Fun fact: You have to get to a surgery two hours ahead so that everyone...and I mean EVERYONE...can come in, ask you your name and birthdate and what you're having done.

This was fun for me.  I mean, I gave the right name and age, but every time I was asked what they were doing, I changed the answer.  Maybe they're removing goo. Maybe they're cutting out a nest of spiders.  Everyone got a slightly different answer.

I especially enjoyed the visit from the chaplain.  I mean, I have my own pastors (which we'd actually forgotten to alert).  When i was in for my knee, that chaplain was amazing. She said a prayer that made us both cry.  This guy...not so much.  I get it. It's early. He probably hadn't had coffee yet.  But there was no praying, nothing like that. He sort of came in, asked what I was having done, and left.  I may have told him I was having a parasitic twin removed. I'm not sure.

I did enjoy the visit from the anesthesiologist. He was Norwegian (I asked) and we had a great convo about the Winter Olympics. My surgeon showed up and after I told him he was extracting mystery substance from my head, he joined in in the skiing conversation. That was fun.

I'm not saying my anesthesiologist is in this photo. But I'm not saying he's not.

We also talked about my fears regarding being put under. Given how I almost DIED the last time, I wanted to be sure Mr. Norway understood that he had to be careful. I have things to do, books to write, TV to watch after surgery.

He assured me that everything would be fine. Then he turned me over to his assistant, Pria, the world's tiniest adult. Pria had a very think Indian accent, which was hard for me to understand given 1) I could only hear out of one ear and 2) I sometimes have issues understanding the Indian accent.  (Had she been Hispanic, I would have been fine.)  She asked me something about blood.  She asked me three times. I finally gave up and looked at Hubby who repeated the question:  if you need blood, is it okay to give you blood?

Um, yeah!  Again, books to write, TV to watch!

Now, the biggest thing that surprised me was that I had to get naked. Like naked naked.  That was a surprise for me because, well, they were operating on my head.  Surely I could keep my underwear on!

Nope.  It all had to come off.  They gave me one of those really great feeling gowns (open to the back) but it was too small for me. COME ON! It's Wisconsin. I'm not that fat! Ya couldn't get me a gown that actually fit?

They told me I had to be naked because they needed the surgical room to be as sterile as possible. Also, they didn't want anything in the way in case they had to put a catheter in me.

That made me soooooooooooo happy to know.

The nurse stuck a motion sickness patch behind my ear. She told me, "If you touch it, wash your hands right away. And for the love of all that's holy, don't let your pets near it."

Fun!

They also made sure I peed. Like that was the biggest issue they were concerned about, after asking my name and birthdate.  Did I pee?  Do I need to pee?  How about if we go try to pee?

I'm a people pleaser, so sure, I let the nurse guide me down the hall, and around the corner, right past the big door that leads to the waiting room.  (It was open, so everyone there got to see me in my ill fitting gown.) I did my duty and was led back to my bay, again, right past the open waiting room door.

Then it was time to go to the surgery room.  It was Pria's job to push my bed to the operating suite.  Pria, the tiniest adult, was tasked with pushing my bed (which outweighed her) and me (which REALLY outweighed her) around roughly seven corners, down four long hallways and past no less than two dozen empty beds parked in the hall.  I was literally looking for the internes from Grey's Anatomy.

It should also be noted that part of Pria's job was to announce that she was coming around a corner, by announcing loudly, COMING AROUND.

Pria, the world's tiniest adult, did not have what one would call a big voice.  But she did okay. Until we got to the door of the surgical room.  That's when she kind of lost control of the bed a bit and lowed into a line of mobile vital taking machines.  I didn't make contact, but she apologized profusely. At least, I think so. I couldn't really hear or understand her.

Once in the surgical room, I had a job to do:  I had to help scooch myself from the rolling bed to the operating table.  That operating table was NARROW.  I was mildly concerned I'd scooch too hard and shoot myself right off the table onto the floor.  

I was very careful. I didn't want Pria to have to pick me up.

The Norwegian was there, and he and Pria had a conversation that I cannot believe either one understood.  But, I blacked out at some point, so I guess they understand each other's accents.

Waking up, I checked for three things:

1) Did I have a catheter?  Nope.

2) Did I have bruising on my breastbone from them trying to wake me?  Nope.

3) Could I hear out of my right ear?  Nope.

Well, two good things anyway.

How cool am I?

Hubby came in and watched my oxygen levels, reminding me to breathe when they dropped below 90%.  We are a good team. He reminds me to breathe and I don't die because of it.  He also had to keep telling me not to touch my eyes.  Apparently, after surgery, I have a strong need to rub my eyes.


The woman who rolled me from recovery back to my pre-op bay was a lovely Black lady who had a voice that carried.  "COMING AROUND!" she yelled.  I told her she was really good at that.

Once in my bay, hubby and I waited. There was no parade of people at the end. Just a nurse who checked me out a couple times.  I must've passed because the next thing I near, they were allowing me to put clothes back on. I thought about stealing the gown, but I didn't.

It was about 11:30 at this point and me, being me, I found the TV remote and turned on FRIENDS.  (Which is on not quite 24 hours a day on various channels.)  I find the show comforting whenever I'm out of sorts. Like when I have half a bra on my head and everyone's telling me to stop scratching my eyes.

Transport came to get me and take me down to the parking lot level.  This young Black gent, lovely young guy, clearly loves his job. I asked him about it. He told me he gets 15, 000-16,000 steps a day and the hospital gives thema free pair of Brooks shoes every year.

The transport guy was so nice, he actually rolled me right to the car. He wasn't supposed to, but that's how much he liked his job.  He and hubby got me into the car and we were off home.  We did do a quick stop a Starbucks. I didn't want anything, but hubby got a big reward for being such a great Hubby!

Also, if the Bradley couple leaves the house, a stop at Starbucks is almost a guarantee.

Finally, home, and settled on the couch, I was ready for a long nap. Hubby was going to pick up my meds, including pain meds, but we hadn't gotten the call from the pharmacy. Fortunately, I had several tablets of Oxy left over from my knee replacement. Same milligrams and everything.  So Hubby could finish his work day without having to run out again.  Meds could wait until Wednesday.

hubby and Skippy had a play to go to Tuesday night.  I can't make this stuff up.  I was determined that they go and have their night out, so Peaches agreed to come sit with me. We had fun. We ordered Taco Johns crunchy tacos.  It was the first food I'd eaten since 8:30 PM Monday.  I inhaled 3 tacos faster than anything. We watched that documentary about America's Next Top Model, and I got to watch her favorite podcast as well. All in all, a fun night.  It was almost like nothing happened. Which is probably the semi expired oxy talking.

Nighty night!


Wednesday brought with it the time to change the dressing!  

Nothing sexier than that hair, am I right?

We, and by we I mean Hubby, changed the gross gauze in the weird little water polo hat.  

Exactly the same.

Wednesday, I started my meds.  Yep, they put me on antibiotics. Oh joy.  I asked them which one they were going to give me: The one that made me crap liquid or the one that burned out my taste buds. They asked if I had a preference (I'm allergic to the normal ones but I also have bad reactions to the not normal ones) I told them to surprise me.

The great part of Wednesday was the dairy free lasagna my good friend Sheila made for me.  It was delicious and so much better than then Taco Johns tacos I'd been surviving on.

Wednesday night I realized they'd given me super-secret choice number 3:  The one that makes my hands and feet itch. AWESOME.  A dose of Benadryl, and Wednesday was over.

Thursday, yesterday, was rough. I was definitely blue and on the edge of tears. My ear still hadn't opened up, my pain level was higher, and my hands itched.  

Reading the after surgery summary, I find out that the ear may not open up for several weeks to SEVERAL MONTHS.  WHAT???????????????????????????????

Also, Thursday I could take off the athletic cup strapped to my head. That was nice, except everything around my ear itched. Fun fact:  the entire right side of my head is still numb, except when it itches.  No idea what that's about, but I'm like Cousin Eddy with his metal plate.

The other big thing on Thursday was...I GOT TO SHOWER! Shower, change clothes, all of it!

I had to "wash my hair gently" and wear a Vaseline covered cotton ball in my ear bowl (It's a term they used. I like it.) while in the shower.  this is when the Bradley couple discovered they own 3, count them 3 jars (all opened) of Vaseline. 

I'm not pretty, but at least I'm clean!

Today, Friday, I'm in better spirits. My ear is still clogged, but it feels more like stuff that's just waiting to fall out.  Can't wait to see what comes out in the coming days.  A drop of blood here and there right now, nothing that dramatic, but a girl can dream.

But how was I disappointed?  Yeah, guess what?  NO ONE sent me a picture of what they removed from my head. NO ONE!  I asked everyone...even Pria.  No one took a picture no one let me see what they removed.

Did they even do anything????  How am I supposed to know?

I'm supposed to go back to work on Monday.  I can't even think about that right now because making myself presentable in an office setting, given what I'm working with at the moment, well, we'll see.

So there you go. The ear surgery is done. Now we move forward in the hopes that everything clears up and I'll be able to hear properly soon.  

And if anyone from Froedert is reading this, I still want that picture! I'll get over the disappointment, but I'm still waiting.

Five (really six) for Friday (actually Wednesday): Sarah watches Oscar Nominees!

 

Good morning!

It's that time of year again, those cold winter weeks after the Oscar Nominations are announced where I spend a lot of time (and money) tracking down and watching the ten Best Picture Nominees.  I don't know if I got lucky this year, or what, but I've been able to take in six of the ten films nominated so far, and I've only had to pay to see one of them!  

Which means, I'm ready to release my reviews of these six films. The final four will have to wait until I can justify spending the cash to see some films I probably won't like. But that's a comment for another day.

Let's get into these, in order of how I've seen them:

1) F1

It's not often that a movie released in the summer is considered for Hollywood's biggest award, but here we are.  "F1" follows Sonny Hayes (Brad Pitt) as he takes a shot for one last moment of glory in the F1 auto racing circuit.  It's okay if you're not a fan of auto racing (I'm not).  But Hollywood has a way of making great movies out of less than mainstream sports.  (Think boxing, like Rocky.)  F1 absolutely earned its nomination with thrilling action, and a story and character study far deeper than one might expect from Brad Pitt.  I loved this one. It's everything a movie should be.  We've even added it to our permanent movie collection.  Will it win?  Probably not.  Should you see it?  Yes!  5 out of 5 stars. Apple TV and DVD.

2) Frankenstein

Whether you're a fan of the Frankenstein universe or not, it's hard to ignore the artistry and performances in Guillermo Del Toro's newest offering.  (He's finally giving us a monster movie where we actually understand the plot!)  This is a beautifully filmed movie. Del Toro insisted that no AI be used. The sets are REAL, made by REAL PEOPLE.  And it makes all the difference. Oscar Isaac is Victor Frankenstein, and he does a very credible job. But it's Jacob Elordi's delicate, emotionally shattering performance as The Creature (which earned him a best supporting actor nom) that really makes this movie sing.  It's nominated for 9 Oscars. Will it win best Picture?  Probably not, although it's great to see another Horror film be nominated.  5 out of 5 stars.  On Netflix.

3)  Sinners 

And speaking of horror movies...we have Sinners!  Set in the South in 1932, Michael B. Jordan does double duty (for which he gets a leading actor Oscar nom) playing Chicago gangster twins Smoke and Stack. They return home to Mississippi to open a juke joint.  I absolutely cannot tell you any more about this film because...you just need to watch it.  It shouldn't work, but it does.  It's a musical. It's a horror movie. It's a historical film. It's social commentary.  It's everything and it's been crushing things this awards season. Will it win?  Probably will.  This is my favorite pick (of the six I've seen) that I honestly believe will win.  5 out of 5 stars.  See it on Amazon Prime.  But see it.

4)  Bugonia

Okay, we've got Emma Stone in a weird looking movie, and it's got all kinds of buzz.  Come on, they fooled me once with Poor Things, which was terrible. So, I went into "Bugonia" expecting to hate, hate, hate it.  But here's the thing:  It's a pretty great movie.  I mean, it's got a lot of elements that are kind of hot right now:  Conspiracy theorists, alien invasions, light bit of horror, a little dark humor, and a general dislike for Corporate America.  Emma Stone is next level as corporate cutthroat, Michelle.  Jesse Plemons (who is having a real resurgence of his career) and Aiden Delbis are Teddy and Don, conspiracy theory brothers who are struggling to make ends meet.  There's a lot going on in this movie and the set up actually takes a good bit of time.  Be patient, though.  That was the advice I was given before I saw it.  This is not a schlock movie, every moment of film is intentional and the final experience of watching it is satisfying.   Another one with horror elements...what is Oscar doing?  Will it win?  Doubtful.  I give this one 4.5 stars out of 5.  (Peacock.)

5) Train Dreams 

Joel Edgerton is a great actor.  He'd have to be to keep me watching this oil painting of a movie.  I was reminded, while watching, of "Brokeback Mountain" a film based on a short story, a movie that felt stretched because the material wasn't enough to fill two hours.  "Train Dreams" is based on a novella, and again, the movie feels stretched and filled in with way too much scenery.  It's beautiful and quiet, but the emotional impact of key points is lost because the whole thing is level 1 emotional impact when it's not woodsy scenery.  It's too much and not enough at the same time.  Considering the energetic, horror vibe of the other nominees, this one feels out of place.  3 out of 5 stars. Netflix.

6) Marty Supreme

It's awards season, which means we get a lot of Timothee Chalamet.  I'm okay with Chalamet generally.   That said, I spent almost the entire length of this film wanting to slap him.  If you see "Marty Supreme" know one thing:  You are going to HATE the main character.  No, this isn't exactly based on a true story (I looked) which is good because Marty Mauser (Chalamet) is a horrible human being with dreams of ruling the Table Tennis world in 1952.  The film is loosely based on the life of table tennis champion, hustler, entertainer, and entrepreneur Marty Reisman. At first this feels like a man against the world movie. Marty's family and friends clearly don't support him.  But then Marty shows his true colors and you spend the next two hours praying someone runs him over with a car.  Also, the pacing on this film is unbelievable.  It's got a frenzied energy, one that seeps into you.  Here's the thing though:  I saw this movie almost a week ago, and it's still in my brain. So, that's not nothing when it comes to films.  GREAT cameo turn by "Shark Tank's" Mr. Wonderful, Kevin O'Leary, whose last line in the film made me think we were crossing into horror territory again. Alas, no. Chalamet had been training on table tennis since 2018 for this film. The table tennis scenes are awesome.  (Another fringe sport that works really well in movies.)  Will it win?  Maybe.  4 out of 5 stars.  In theaters.

There we go, six of the ten best picture nominees and my thoughts on them.  Have you seen these?  What did you think?

Who knew a swimsuit model could do such a good job?

 

Hey all!  

Welcome to Wisconsin winter!  WOW!  It is cold out there.  Which means, it's that time of year again when I go out and get naked for a radiology tech and her very nicest torture machine. Yep, it's time for a mammogram!

This year has been a weird one for health.  I was supposed to get my left knee replaced and then didn't because of my weirdly plugged ear. Meanwhile I have 2 workman's comp cases brewing, one for my right knee and one for my left shoulder. Plus, I've had the same cold for about five months.  Oh, and my arthritis is really bad this year.  That being said, I wasn't expecting any surprises from the photo shoot of the girls.

I was actually supposed to have this done a couple weeks ago, but the above mentioned cold, with all its snotty, hacky, oozy wonderment got in the way. So today, at 11:15 was the time.

I hate midday appointments.  I hate late day appointments. If I'm being honest, I hate all appointments.  Last week I spent two hours in a dentists' chair, 90 minutes of which involved my jaw being stretched open. The result?  Now my mouth and jaw hurt and honestly, that was like the one part of my body that seemed to be operating properly!  But I couldn't get an early day appointment, so here we are. I kept looking at the clock most of the morning, because more than hating appointments, I hate being late.  I finally took off way too early, got there way too early, and had to sit outside in the hallway because the waiting room was PACKED with women who all wore the same expression of resigned dread.

"Resigned dread." That's a thing.  No, don't look it up. Just check out the waiting room at any breast imaging place.

Anyway, so I had to sit outside in the hallway.  These chairs are normally for the cancer rehab patients who use the gym equipment across the hall from the breast imaging office.  Kind of a weird thing, I mean, okay, you get breast cancer, and that's how you get a membership to the gym?  All these old ladies came in wearing four winter coats (cuz it's cold) and carrying their super white Hoka sneakers because they were going to gym time.

I thought I'd get a start on my 2026 reading.  I pulled a book out of my bag and started reading. Two things happened:  1) The lady next to me, instead of changing out of her snow boots and into her Hokas decided instead to read my book over my shoulder.  2) I got called into an exam room. (Yeah, that old lady is just going to have to get her own copy of Steve Martin's second novel.)

Anyway, so my name gets called. Now, my actually appointment wasn't supposed to start until 11:15. Given the number of people waiting, I assumed I'd be seen somewhere around 4:30.  Nope, I was walking into a room at 10:50.  I was being led by a woman who I can only describe as the sexiest woman I've ever seen in real life. Like, since when did Swimwear models do breast radiology?

I cannot stress how unbelievably sexy this woman was. I'm completely straight, so it's not like that. But me standing next to her...we aren't even the same species.

Her scrubs were form-fitting. (Does Lululemon make scrubs? I didn't realize Lululemon made scrubs.) But she was so perfectly outfitted and her hair (blonde, of course) her makeup, all of it, perfection in a way that's just not possible for mere mortals in January in Wisconsin.

Meanwhile, I'd followed their instructions: No powders, no sprays, no lotions of any kind. Also, this is my day off.  Let's say I didn't put a lot of thought into what I was wearing or looked like.

She was also the nicest, efficient, fastest talking radiologist I've ever had.  I barely got a chance to enjoy those beautiful, soft robes they let you wear!  (Although, why bother?  You're pretty much gonna be naked from the waist up the whole time.  But still, I love those robes.)

Breast exam, check.  Off to the radiology room we go!

She's so good, the radiology room was literally next door to the exam room!  No walking up and down halls, praying the robe doesn't come untied because I'm fluffy and as much as I love those robes, I probably won't ever steal one because they are never big enough for me.

This girl's talking all the time:  Giving me instructions, moving my girls to one side or another, taking pictures faster than any paparazzi.  I barely got my usual question in that I ask all my breast radiologists, "What made you chose this?"

Apparently, swimsuit model had gone to nursing school and didn't like it.  She didn't mention anything about posing for Sports Illustrated, but I think she was being modest.

I will say this:  She was so good, and so fast, IT DIDN'T HURT!  Nothing hurt!  The mammogram didn't feel like torture! She didn't have to retake anything. She took two shots of each breast and was done. It was...well, I can't say it was a pleasure, but it certainly wasn't close the worst thing that's happened to me in the medical field in the last year.

And no, I'm not going to tell you where she works. I don't want to share her! LOL  

At the end of it, I was fully dressed, had a clean bill of health, and was almost in my car at 11:15, the time when the appointment was supposed to start! Also, the waiting room and the hallway chairs were empty!

I don't always enjoy a mammogram...okay I never do.  But I almost did this time!  So...well done swimsuit model!

BTW, get your breasts looked at!  All joking aside, it's vital to your health!  

NEW YEAR NEW ME...or not...

 

Good morning and happy almost new year!

In the coming days, social media is going to be loaded with resolutions, memes about breaking resolutions, Bible passages about being peaceful and loving, and the like.  Much like Thanksgiving and Christmas, the vibe for most folks is the same at New Year's.  It's like, "Let's do better.  Except, doing better is too hard. So, let's eat snack food and laugh at how weak we are."

If you're looking for something different here, you're about to be disappointed.  LOL.

Everyone resolves the same things at the New Year:

Or if someone decides to take a more spiritual route: 

Don't get me wrong...I'm on board with both!  I think New Year's is good time to reevaluate what we did in the past year.  Let's review my year:

2025 for Sarah was...

A year where I almost quit my job and then didn't.

A year where my ear was plugged for 10 months (and still is).

A year where I was supposed to have a knee replaced and didn't.

A year where Skippy and Peaches saw heartache on multiple fronts, which meant I felt all their feelings.

A year where Hubby was the hero again and again.

A year where I released my 15th novel, Chain Reaction: A Max Marchino Mystery

I didn't lose weight. I didn't stop using my credit cards.  I didn't do any of the stuff we say we're going to do.  But that's not the point, right?  The point of New Year's Resolutions is to tell ourselves we want to be better people.  

Guys, there's nothing wrong with wanting to be a better person!  Make that resolution list!  Want some inspiration?  Here's mine for 2026

1)  Get my fluffy butt under 200 pounds for the first time in almost 20 years.

2) Put money away in an actual savings account so that I actually have a dollar amount involving a comma at the end of 2026.

3) Clean the floors in my house more.  (Or, you know, ever.  The bar is wildly low on this one.)

4) Get my office closet organized and keep it organized.  

5) Write a second cookbook.

6)  Win the lottery, quit my job, buy a beautiful cabin overlooking Lake Superior, and do nothing but watch movies and write novels for the rest of my life.

Here's the thing:  If I accomplish ONE thing on that list by this time next year, it'll be 1) a miracle and 2) a massive success. 

But on the flip side of that coin...

The inhabited portions of this planet have been beaten and flogged quite a bit in the last five years.  Do we really need to put unrealistic pressure on ourselves to BE BETTER?  Aren't we all, you know, really EXHAUSTED?

How about if we collectively agree to speak softly, walk gently, and just kind of ease into 2026 without disturbing our surroundings?  

Let's stop shrieking at each other every time a talking head on a 24-hour news channel says something 1100 times and on the 1100 and first time we snap and start howling at anyone who doesn't agree with us.  Turn off the news.  Turn on music.  Turn off the editorials, the commentaries, and op-ed pieces, and the click-bait.  Turn on fun movies, classic TV shows, and sports talk radio (I mean, if we're going to get upset, let's get upset about important stuff...like how the Green Bay Packers need to find some kind of supplement that keeps ACLs from tearing.)

2026 is going to be a great year...or not. I'm going to pull through with my resolutions this year, I mean it...or not.  None of that is the point. The point is, as long as there are New Year's celebrations, there will be people who insist on promising themselves and others that they'll be better.  As long as we don't lose the spark of WANTING to be better, we might just be okay.

From my house to yours: Happy New Year!