rhymes with gravy

May 25

globochem:

vintagegal:

1966 Batman Water Gun

There are a few things about this that I would like to address…

globochem:

vintagegal:

1966 Batman Water Gun

There are a few things about this that I would like to address…

[video]

May 24

Living room curtain-cum-shower-rod SUCCESS! NOW I can put the air conditioner in for the season. (Except it got cold again. Oh well.) #itslikeparkavenueimsoclassy

Living room curtain-cum-shower-rod SUCCESS! NOW I can put the air conditioner in for the season. (Except it got cold again. Oh well.) #itslikeparkavenueimsoclassy

ourmichaelp:

Happy Anniversary
This picture was taken a week ago, shortly after I had been reunited with Michael’s wedding ring. I consider having it in my possession a miracle because it couldn’t be located within the hospital, and the Cambridge Police Department didn’t have it with Michael’s possessions. After a day, maybe longer, fliers were about to be created and distributed around Harvard Square in a last-ditch effort to locate it until a friend suggested I call the ambulance company that brought Michael to the hospital. Within 30 seconds of contacting them I had confirmation the ring was in their possession, and within a few hours it was delivered to the hospital and placed into my hands. A tiny, needed miracle.
The specifics of Michael’s hospital stay, while only being a week so far, have been blurred by worry and concern. I can’t remember what day of the week it is. I have to think about exactly which day Michael has his surgery. People come and visit Michael and I haven’t remembered their previous visit. When I try now to remember what it was like those first few days, I can’t remember things like peak blood pressure numbers or temperature spikes, or how swollen he he might have been, but I do remember the thoughts of walking away from my home, my garden, my job, Somerville, and all of my family and friends if Michael didn’t come back to me. It ached immediately that I couldn’t curl up next to him, or hug him, or offer him any comfort other than kisses on his hands and forehead. If I couldn’t touch and hold Michael, how could I comfort myself?
I now have the wedding ring around my neck, waiting until Michael is well enough to wear it on his finger. 
And there’s more. Today’s update. For the past two days a few of us have noticed stronger, perhaps more deliberate movement, particularly in Michael’s left hand. There were memorable moments from yesterday where we saw Michael fuss with his bed sheet, or reach for his vent tube and we just knew there was more behind his movement than instinct. After several hours, the hope wore off and I went to sleep that night trying not to get my hopes up, or put too much stock into the things we witnessed.
Today Michael was sitting in his chair when I came in to sit with him for a bit. People had been in and out, and now we found ourselves alone. It was very quiet and Michael seemed a little bit restless. I wanted to take advantage of his empty bed while he was sitting in his chair, so I tried to lay beside him but couldn’t reach him to hold his hand. I grabbed a chair and brought it close to his, and sat facing him, my left hand tucked under his. 
I decided this would be a good time to sneak some music from my iPhone. Scanning through my library, I knew he wouldn’t be pleased: Nada Surf? Elliott Smith? Kurt Vile? Thin Lizzy? (Well, he does love Thin Lizzy.) Nothing seemed right until I got to The Beatles. There were two options: Abbey Road and Revolver. I was just about to play Abbey Road when I remembered that’s my favorite record, not his. In my attempt to be deferential, I chose Revolver. Within seconds Michael’s hand started moving around mine. He reached for two of my fingers and squeezed them. He placed his hand on top of mine and rubbed it from side to side. I watched and said nothing and didn’t move a muscle as his fingers found my wedding rings and held them. It was this exact moment when I was certain we were making a connection; he knew who I was and he wanted me to know. 
Tax Man, Eleanor Rigby, I’m Only Sleeping, and then I realized that our wedding song, Here, There and Everywhere, was also on this album. When it finally played, Michael squeezed my hand and I wept into his. 
The best moment of my life. I now know he is inside there, just how I left him before the accident. He remembers me, and loves me, and wants me to know. And I’m so glad I had the chance to share the same with him. 
We were married 15 years ago today. The friends and family, both near and far, who surrounded us that day are surrounding us now, as well as the friends we’ve made since then. 
Happy Anniversary, Michael. I love you so much. 
Cathy

crying crying crying.
I don’t know Cathy or Michael but I hope so very much that things continue to get better. Strength, comfort and healing to them both.

ourmichaelp:

Happy Anniversary

This picture was taken a week ago, shortly after I had been reunited with Michael’s wedding ring. I consider having it in my possession a miracle because it couldn’t be located within the hospital, and the Cambridge Police Department didn’t have it with Michael’s possessions. After a day, maybe longer, fliers were about to be created and distributed around Harvard Square in a last-ditch effort to locate it until a friend suggested I call the ambulance company that brought Michael to the hospital. Within 30 seconds of contacting them I had confirmation the ring was in their possession, and within a few hours it was delivered to the hospital and placed into my hands. A tiny, needed miracle.

The specifics of Michael’s hospital stay, while only being a week so far, have been blurred by worry and concern. I can’t remember what day of the week it is. I have to think about exactly which day Michael has his surgery. People come and visit Michael and I haven’t remembered their previous visit. When I try now to remember what it was like those first few days, I can’t remember things like peak blood pressure numbers or temperature spikes, or how swollen he he might have been, but I do remember the thoughts of walking away from my home, my garden, my job, Somerville, and all of my family and friends if Michael didn’t come back to me. It ached immediately that I couldn’t curl up next to him, or hug him, or offer him any comfort other than kisses on his hands and forehead. If I couldn’t touch and hold Michael, how could I comfort myself?

I now have the wedding ring around my neck, waiting until Michael is well enough to wear it on his finger. 

And there’s more. Today’s update. For the past two days a few of us have noticed stronger, perhaps more deliberate movement, particularly in Michael’s left hand. There were memorable moments from yesterday where we saw Michael fuss with his bed sheet, or reach for his vent tube and we just knew there was more behind his movement than instinct. After several hours, the hope wore off and I went to sleep that night trying not to get my hopes up, or put too much stock into the things we witnessed.

Today Michael was sitting in his chair when I came in to sit with him for a bit. People had been in and out, and now we found ourselves alone. It was very quiet and Michael seemed a little bit restless. I wanted to take advantage of his empty bed while he was sitting in his chair, so I tried to lay beside him but couldn’t reach him to hold his hand. I grabbed a chair and brought it close to his, and sat facing him, my left hand tucked under his. 

I decided this would be a good time to sneak some music from my iPhone. Scanning through my library, I knew he wouldn’t be pleased: Nada Surf? Elliott Smith? Kurt Vile? Thin Lizzy? (Well, he does love Thin Lizzy.) Nothing seemed right until I got to The Beatles. There were two options: Abbey Road and Revolver. I was just about to play Abbey Road when I remembered that’s my favorite record, not his. In my attempt to be deferential, I chose Revolver. Within seconds Michael’s hand started moving around mine. He reached for two of my fingers and squeezed them. He placed his hand on top of mine and rubbed it from side to side. I watched and said nothing and didn’t move a muscle as his fingers found my wedding rings and held them. It was this exact moment when I was certain we were making a connection; he knew who I was and he wanted me to know. 

Tax Man, Eleanor Rigby, I’m Only Sleeping, and then I realized that our wedding song, Here, There and Everywhere, was also on this album. When it finally played, Michael squeezed my hand and I wept into his. 

The best moment of my life. I now know he is inside there, just how I left him before the accident. He remembers me, and loves me, and wants me to know. And I’m so glad I had the chance to share the same with him. 

We were married 15 years ago today. The friends and family, both near and far, who surrounded us that day are surrounding us now, as well as the friends we’ve made since then. 

Happy Anniversary, Michael. I love you so much. 

Cathy

crying crying crying.

I don’t know Cathy or Michael but I hope so very much that things continue to get better. Strength, comfort and healing to them both.

[video]

May 23

Modern Farmer | Whey Too Much: Greek Yogurt’s Dark Side

May 22

The Photography of Shane Perez: Discovery Island -

this is so so cool.

this image just makes me STUPID HAPPY.

this image just makes me STUPID HAPPY.

(Source: perfectdisney, via scurviesdisneyblog)

[video]

May 21

globochem:

Wolf Blitzer was attempting to interview this woman, but decided to just allow her baby to grab the microphone and babble into it, drowning out anything resembling an interview, while continuing to ignore the baby and the fact that it’s ruining everything.

Keep it top-notch, CNN.

EDIT: Wolf just asked her if she thanked the lord for surviving the tornado; “You have to thank THE LORD; don’t you thank the lord?!” To which she responded, practically unfairly embarrassed: “actually, …I’m an atheist.” 

AWESOME LADY. 

SUCK IT, WOLFMAN

Beautiful!

globochem:

Wolf Blitzer was attempting to interview this woman, but decided to just allow her baby to grab the microphone and babble into it, drowning out anything resembling an interview, while continuing to ignore the baby and the fact that it’s ruining everything.

Keep it top-notch, CNN.

EDIT: Wolf just asked her if she thanked the lord for surviving the tornado; “You have to thank THE LORD; don’t you thank the lord?!” To which she responded, practically unfairly embarrassed: “actually, …I’m an atheist.”

AWESOME LADY.

SUCK IT, WOLFMAN

Beautiful!