It has been a while. Things have been a bit crazy here at Casa de Tortuga, things that I could post about, but I''ve not really had the opportunity to post much. Ironic, no?

Sheeps had her surgery. She had a discectomy. They removed a ruptured disc and fused the two vertebrae. And the best part? She is allergic to painkillers. Yay!

Well, I had to work the weekend before, and put in quite a few hours. I worked over 30 hours at the shop, and threw in a shift at the bar, for good measure. Then it was a day of miscommunication and confusion, and I hit the road to Tampa several hours later than planned. I missed the big family dinner with Sheep's parents, but got leftovers, so that was okay. Then it was off to bed early, as the next day would start early.

It started out with showing up at the hospital at 7:30 in the ay em... A hospital an hour away from her place. This meant getting up at 5:30 to get everyone ready to go, and to get there on time. Oy. Well, we arrived in plenty of time, and they took Sheeps away for prepping. We got to go in to the pre-surgery area to spend a few moments with her before they "took her away". It was a pretty nerve-wracking time, as we all knew what was coming, but we tried to keep the mood light. They worst part was the dueling EKG machines. Sheeps and the lady's next to her just would not get in sync... Finally, the Doc breezed in from the Golf Course, and it was time to go. Two hours later, Doc comes out and says that the only thing that went wrong in the OR was the AC went out during the surgery.

Then came the long, arduous hospital stay. Sheeps, obviously, had the hard part. Our part consisted, mostly, of sitting around all day long, being able to do absolutely nothing at all. She had to endure the pain, and lack of pain killers, and loud nurses at 3am, and the viscious physical therapists from hell, and the confused dietician, who would give no water, then nothing but juice, then more than juice, and then, on the last morning of the stay, solid food, which consisted of food that Sheeps didn't like, but that's okay, as the PT's showed back up, just as breakfast arrived... Four days, the lovely hospital stay was finally over. Then it was back home for recovery, with her 'rents being the primary care-givers. Poor Sheeps. Let's just hope they don't drive her up a wall in the process. They mean well, but they can be a bit over-bearing. I'm just glad that they able to be there to watch over her while she heals.

Then it was back to work. Solid work. Nothing but work. I've been working like a madman since I've returned, not that I don't normally.

The boss' wife, who has lost her mind, truly, decided that since I' used all my vacation to go to Gulf Wars, that I shouldn't get paid for going down to see Sheeps. Even though I'd worked a full week in 3 days of that pay period. And never mind that I work 55-65 hours a week. She has no problem with the concept of "salary" on those occassions..... So I have to figure out how to pay bills without that paycheck, until I can get reimbursed. And I will get reimbursed. Meanwhile I have to stretch what I have, and it isn't that flexible.... Oh, well. I'll think of something.

Then, on my birthday, I find out that my mother had hurt her back, and was in the hospital the same time as Sheeps, for the same thing. She just didn't feel like I needed to know. Nice. Thanks, mom!

To top it all off, I got a letter from the VA saying that my personal info was compromised when that idiot took home the laptop from work and had it stolen.... Nice. Happy fricken birthday.

So.... Here I sit, getting ready to go to work, yet again. There is no joy in Muddville. It's been a pretty crappy month. But Sheeps is on the mend, and that is really all that matters.

So, how's your month been?

Rough week.....

::heavy sigh:: It has been a particularly trying week. TMT was this past weekend, and I had to get things ready for that. I had a squire fighting in Crown List, so I had to help prepare him, and keep him focused. I had to arrange the schedule so that we (management team) could all be off. That part didn't work out so well. I ended up having to schedule myself to open the new shop on Saturday morning (even though I worked 'til 4am the night before), and closing the 13th Street shop on Monday. Only one day off in between, but I managed to get a (sort of) full weekend in between.

Sheeps is going in for her surgery on Monday, so we're all a little nervous/on edge. It is for the best, and will make our lives much easier in the long run, and improve her quality of life, but for now, it is nerve wracking.

Then, to top it all off, last Wednesday, I was on my way to the bar for my shift when I got a call. Now, as many of you may know, my squire is rooming with me, and holds a fighter practice at the house on Wednesday evenings. Well, it seems that one of the fighters wasn't feeling well. He stopped fighting, stepped back to take off his armor, and collapsed. He had stopped breathing. Squire's wife started administering CPR, and 911 was called. To their credit, they showed up very quickly, and took over. They had to shock him with the defibrulator, but managed to revive him. He passed away later at the hospital.

This came as quite a shock. He was only 34. Sometimes our part in the tapestry of life is smaller than others. So let it be with Scout. He was a good man. He always had a smile on his face. Not generally the ear to ear grin kind of smile, but the corner of the mouth lifted up, and twinkle in the eye kind of grin. And yeah, you hear people say that his/her eyes "twinkled", but Scout's really did.

He was everybody's friend. If you'd ever met him, then you were his pal. If you never had, then you were a potential friend. And it worked both ways. Everyone who met him liked him. He made you feel comfortable. Right away, in some kind of magical, unspoken way. He didn't say much, but he wasn't shy. Just very quiet.

And he was helpful. He was an armorer, one of great talent. He did some beautiful work. Mostly he stuck to "munitions grade" armor, because it was cheaper, and helped get people on the field, but he could do some remarkable things with metal. Actually, he preferred to make you come out to his shop and teach you how to make your own. You could get spiffy armor for the just the cost of the metal, and your time, and you would learn something in the process. And what an interest teaching method. He wouldn't do anything for you. He tell you how, maybe demonstrate briefly and then wander off to do other things. But he'd be watching over your shoulder the whole time, and if you started to get off track, he'd give you a "Hmmmm...." followed by the classic, "I suppose you could do it like that, but that's not the way I'd do it...."

And he loved the SCA. He loved to make armor. He loved to fight. So much so that he risked his life to do it. Scout had a heart attack when he was only 18. He knew that his heart wasn't as strong as it should be, and that everytime he donned his armor that he was taking a risk, but he didn't care. That's not accurate. He did care. But he loved the game more. It was his life, his passion.

I'm going to miss you, Scout. Sorely. But I'll never forget you. I have the armor that you made for me, and that you taught me to make for myself. And your spirit will be an inspiration to me, forever. Goodbye, friend.