Found my Coffin

I mean coughin'. Can't shake it. We have a doctor's visit tomorrow. My blood pressure is a bit high and my oxygen level is a bit low. I wonder if I can get walking pneumonia when I can't walk.  Hope not. 

Rachel will continue this blog post with a synopsis of the advantages to living in Dallas, including everything from the weather to pecan hunting (Amy is a pecan hoarder) to Jeeps and minivans, great eateries, music and family. I need to remind her to boast and post pictures of her Jeep. 

Before I go into another coughing fit let me tell you that I'm still here, nearly functionless yet happy to be with my family. It appears we are hosting Thanksgiving, where Rachel will don my Chef's jacket and help me prepare my unique recipe's for the feast. I've spoken little of my love of cooking, usually dwelling more on my disease than anything else. I'm sick of being sick, I'm tired of being tired, I've worn out my self-pity and I am choosing to provide a spark of positive to enlighten those around me, taking the focus off of myself. 

Go Rachel-
So... when dad said, "Let's post" this isn't quite what I had in mind.  Usually my job as his personal transcriptionist does not entail my personal thought process being conveyed to his adoring public. I know I don't have a snowball's chance in hell to living up to his literary prowess.  However, I am thrilled that he wants to speak of the good things in life.  I wish he would focus on these things for himself rather that for those around him, but it's a good start.  So without further ado, I begin my overview of life as a 'Texan.'
As winter draws near, I'm still a little confused as to how I am still wearing shorts, tank-tops, and driving with the top down on my Jeep.  We've only had a few days that have even felt like a true autumn.  People keep assuring me that it gets cold here, but I'm not sure they understand what cold is. And that's okay.  I think my mom has been comfortable for the first time in her life. The beautiful weather allows us to take advantage of the lake that lies just up the street.  Mom and dad can easily take the boys for a walk to feed the ducks, watch the pelicans, or play in the park that meets the lake.  This really was the perfect spot to settle.  The house is big enough that if they don't feel like going out for a day, it doesn't feel like they've been quarantined in a tiny room (something I, myself, have endured and trust me- it ain't fun!).  But if they are up for getting some fresh air, they can just leave the house without worry or provisions, and do any number of things within walking/rolling distance.  From live music at the bar up the street, to performances and exhibits at the Bath House up the block, even when they don't feel like taking a big trip somewhere, they are entertained.  And I have to say, in addition to the activities available in our neighborhood, I am amazed at the neighbors.  It's like a flashback to the 50's.  Ok, I wasn't around in the 1950's, but I read a lot and have a good imagination.  People care about their neighborhood and their neighbors.  They are open and kind, and have been welcoming since the moment we moved in, even though we are probably the loudest neighbors they've ever had.  They actually stop by and bring us food. Like, "I just made this and thought you would enjoy it" kind of kindness.  And I'm not talking just one particularly kind neighbor.  This has occurred with several neighbors.  I'm telling you right now, we need to up our game!  I need to get dad to look up some amazing recipe's and start returning Tupperware with yummy stuff in them to give back!  I have lived in a lot of places, but not even in my own neighborhood in Peoria, where I lived the majority of my life, did I have such a sense of community.  People wave and smile as you get home from work. They stop and say hi if they are out walking their dogs. It's the way communities should be.  All I can say is, good find on this neighborhood Sarah and Tim!! 

What else was I supposed to talk about....Oh yeah- nuts!  We have a giant pecan tree.  It is situated to the side of our driveway and its limbs sprawl over the house.  I didn't realize that pecans were such a big thing here in Dallas and the surrounding areas, but boy are they!  I see people collecting them from parks and roadsides all the time.  Mom is thrilled that she can go out and collect endless amounts just outside her door.  I'm glad it makes her happy.  The moment she realized that they were actual, edible pecans the crafter wheels started turning.  She stopped or at least lessened her rants about the cars getting pelted with whatever was falling out of the tree, and started looking at the squirrel food like it was gold.  Regardless of the fact that she knows next to nothing about the process, she has decided to collect as many pecans as she can (leaving them for nature would be a waste, you see).  She has big future plans for them.  What she didn't consider, however, is the fact that the phrase "a tough nut to crack" was probably coined in reference to these particular pecans.  The kitchen table is strewn with pecan leftovers.  An entire afternoon's worth of attempted nut cracking resulted in a disappointingly small amount of nutmeat (yes, it's really called nutmeat) that looks more pre-chewed than fresh out of the shell.  But never fear, mom has always been persistent and I'm sure she will find a way to utilize those damned nuts.

The last segment of my long-winded view of Dallas is the vehicle situation at the ole Boettcher plantation. So I wrecked the Jag, or more precisely the gal driving the Jeep Liberty who rear ended me, causing a four car pileup on the highway wrecked the Jag.  Seriously, it's like adding insult to injury, being hit by a Jeep Liberty.  I have been a Jeep fan for a long doggone time, but Liberty's just never made the grade for me.  They feel like Chryslers' version of a Jeep.  A Jeep for teachers and sorority girls, a tame version of a Jeep.  Now, I have the greatest respect for teachers and have many friends who were/are part of sororities.  However I'm speaking stereotypically here.  A stereotypical teacher car doesn't scream, "Outdoorsy, tough, rough and altogether bad ass, and oh, you're stuck in the muck- here I've got a winch and the power to pull you out and tow you home" like a real Jeep does.   Anyway, the Jag has been laid to rest, but never forgotten.  I won't say it has been replaced, but I now have a vehicle to drive that makes me as happy as the Jag made dad.  I'll give you one guess.  Yep, I gots me a Jeep Wrangler.  Awesome.  That's all I have to say about that.  To avoid getting over-emotional, I'm going to move on to mom and dad's new wheels.  October was a big month for vehicle purchases in the Boettcher household.  Our old van worked great for a long time.  A lift was put in it by Mike Leka back in Illinois.  It was a big ole full sized behemoth.  The lift brought dad up the couple of feet until he could drive into the back.  The hard part is that dad's new chair is pretty tall.  He would have to lean over and try to maneuver the chair forward without really seeing where he was going.  He would sit in the back of the van, so high up that his head scraped the ceiling.  I'm just saying, the bumpy roads were more than just a pain in the neck for poor dad.  Plus, mom couldn't talk to him, hand him anything, or really help him at all without pulling over.  All in all, he just outgrew the old van.  Thankfully, they were able to locate a minivan (much more to mom's taste) that was fully decked out.  Not only can you press one button to make the door open and the lift extend, but the van actually kneels, making it easier to board.  But wait, it gets better.  He doesn't have to duck, and doesn't scrape his scalp off trying to get in.  Once in, he gets to pull up front in the passenger seat.  I can't tell you how happy this makes me.  In the other van, dad was so far removed from everything going on- he couldn't see out the windows to know where we were, he couldn't hear our conversations to participate, etc. that he would just withdraw.  Trips were uncomfortable and sometimes painful, so he rarely wanted to go anywhere.  This new van has helped lessen that tendency. Yay!  Although sometimes I am sorry for mom- he always did have a pretty bad backseat driver issue, and that about him hasn't changed at all.  The only downside I can see is that the van is so close to the ground that you can hardly go over a speed hump without it scraping like crazy.  Does anyone know if you can put a lift kit on a minivan?
Ok, I think I've sufficiently babbled.  I hope this gives you a rough picture of what life here in Dallas is like.  I know dad feels it important to bleed some of his misery through this blog, and he feels it important to keep everyone updated on all the progress ALS is making.  Just know that we are in as good of a situation as we could have ever hoped for.  We are lucky to have so many people who care.  Thanks everybody.
Rachel