I have to confess, I was expecting the normal hand-drawn Christmas card from my niece this year. Imagine my surprise when I opened the card, and read "In Memory". Yeah. For whatever reason, she took two Gideon donation cards from church, scribbled out the inside, and wrote our name on the blanks inside. I'm assuming she doesn't know what "In Memory" means, and that she liked the picture on the front. For whatever reason, she was quite pleased with it, and I can honestly say I've never received a Christmas card like it. It's now in my drawer of momentos.
While Bobby's wheelchair was a work in progress, one of the things we attempted to do was send pictures of the broken parts to Orthopedic Services, in hopes they could possibly order the parts before everything shut down for the holidays. (Which turned out to be a big failure.) This might sound like no big deal, but my parents's house has no internet service, and most people struggle to get adequate cell phone bars around the hills of Smith Lake. When we go there, we literally are getting away from it all. So we head to Jacks (a restaurant similar to Hardees or McDonalds) which has a free WiFi. Keep in mind I'm driving, Bobby's chair is somewhat tied down with restraints, and we're going up and down hills in a vehicle that has zero-resistant steering (meaning you touch the wheel, it veers). It also bears mentioning that my husband has ridden with another person driving a total of three times (and two of them were not pleasant) in 32 years because of his disability. So to say that things were tense in that van was a little bit of understatement. Long story short, I got my hand popped when I let go of the wheel to steady his chair as it was rearing up in one of my "jack-rabbit starts" (I actually accelerated to get up a hill.)
So imagine my surprise when we get a present from my niece only. And it's a toilet paper roll with a face drawn on it.
Me: I assume that's my picture on this toilet paper roll?
Carly: That's not a toilet paper roll and yes it's you.
Bobby: What is it?
Carly: Your wife beating stick. So when she grabs your chair you can hit her with that.
And if that's not enough, there's a message on the backside:
Somehow I don't think I'm forgiven for feeding her rabbit this summer, yet. And then I saw this tube at the Christmas tree for my brother. So obviously I'm not the only one getting a stick to be beaten with, AND theirs is bigger. But I was wrong. They got a hand-drawn poster-sized Christmas picture.
While Bobby's wheelchair was a work in progress, one of the things we attempted to do was send pictures of the broken parts to Orthopedic Services, in hopes they could possibly order the parts before everything shut down for the holidays. (Which turned out to be a big failure.) This might sound like no big deal, but my parents's house has no internet service, and most people struggle to get adequate cell phone bars around the hills of Smith Lake. When we go there, we literally are getting away from it all. So we head to Jacks (a restaurant similar to Hardees or McDonalds) which has a free WiFi. Keep in mind I'm driving, Bobby's chair is somewhat tied down with restraints, and we're going up and down hills in a vehicle that has zero-resistant steering (meaning you touch the wheel, it veers). It also bears mentioning that my husband has ridden with another person driving a total of three times (and two of them were not pleasant) in 32 years because of his disability. So to say that things were tense in that van was a little bit of understatement. Long story short, I got my hand popped when I let go of the wheel to steady his chair as it was rearing up in one of my "jack-rabbit starts" (I actually accelerated to get up a hill.)
So imagine my surprise when we get a present from my niece only. And it's a toilet paper roll with a face drawn on it.
Carly: That's not a toilet paper roll and yes it's you.
Bobby: What is it?
Carly: Your wife beating stick. So when she grabs your chair you can hit her with that.
And if that's not enough, there's a message on the backside:
I'm so glad I got her underwear.
P.S. Before you start posting reprimands, underwear was not the only thing we gave her. :)
But I must say, when I got sick Christmas night and was running a fever of 102.3 (which almost NEVER happens...my temp runs down, never up), she was constantly checking to see "if I was going to make it" and occasionally just wanted to pat my head. Our Christmas was far from dull.
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