SH Hubcat Update

pj perry says:

September 12, 2009 at 5:52 pm

Ohai, sh, how is da hubbycat doing today?

sunnyhuckle says:

September 12, 2009 at 6:07 pm

Umm, fankee for asking. Bacterial infection has spread to blood, very bad, next 72 hours will tell. Cannot say on profile, as my fambly is checking there so not haffing to call all teh time, but they will not go this far into a thread. Am shielding some fambly members in order to maybe shield myself. Daughter an I went today, Dr. said with infection spreading into blood and 10 minutes without heartbeat last night, 75% chance of total organ failure resulting in mortality.
Bawt, peeps play teh lottery for worse odds than that, an sometimes win. Will put out more toona offrings to CC tonight. He must like them, they are gone in the morning.

cweenmj says:

September 12, 2009 at 6:34 pm

{{{{{{{{{{{{sunnyhuckle}}}}}}}}}}}}

Since u b hiding deh bad newsez frum famvblee, iz ok if i posting dis on deh Cryer??

sunnyhuckle says:

September 12, 2009 at 7:56 pm

Aw fankee, my cween. Would be moast hart helping. Could you pleaz to include the linkee from our 9-11 vigil, to light a candle? That was so good for me on 9-11, an think many moar wuld find it and find personal peace from it on the cryer. My fambly does not no bowt Cryer.

Peace Candle

*sits down with glass of wine*

Now I must tell you my dark secret.
For nigh on two score years, my Dave has had a nickname. In recent years it has become a most shamefull nomenclature, with dark connotations. But he earned his nick name proudly and with goodness. He was a roofer by trade, after he came home from Viet Numb. The higher paying roofing was hot-roofing, where strong and virile men shoveled rock and swabbed mops laden with melted tar, asphalt, or pitch onto roofs. They worked the kettles, tossing hundred pound hunks of black nasties into kettles, keeping the heat hot enough to melt, but not so hot as to explode. This I have been told, and believe. They climbed ladders shouldering heavy rolls of roofing felt many stories up, and did it proudly an in a manly manner. This I have been told, and believe.

The black nasties was very hot and sticky, and if a careless apprentice splashed it on a mopper, it would cook the flesh to the bone. This I have seen with my eyes. The only way to minimize the damage was to grab the glob of hot nasty with a gloved hand, and rip it of, with flesh stuck to it, to keep from doing more deeper damage. This I have seen. This left horrific wounds, which healed slowly and scarred badly. This I have seen with mine own eyes, while tending to my husbands ravaged flesh. Sometimes, a hot roofer would slip and fall into the freshly mopped asphalt, with horrific results and many months of pain and rehabilitation, or, sometimes, rarely, death. Sometimes could splash into an eye and do most evil damage, this too, I have witnessed and tended. This was in the dark days before OSHA.

These hardy souls, akin to the strong and viril loggers of Orygon’s honorable history, and the early sailors of uncharted seas, did their work proudly and with honor.
At the end of a day of hot roofing, these proud men were filthy, stinky, and their clothing was globbed with black nasties. And they were mostly big strong men, although there were also small strong men who worked just as hard.

Due to the dirty, stinky, and sweaty nature of my husband, and his sometimes grumpy nature when tired from keeping the rain off our heads, he earned a special nickname. He became known far and wide in his travels as “the Tr0ll.” Now, in truth, I only had one semester of psychology in my short college career, I believe this may be the reason why I feel compelled to kindness when a modern day tr0ll shows up.
The end
Long live my Tr0ll!

sunnyhuckle says:

September 12, 2009 at 8:05 pm

Epilog:
Dotter Steph an fren Lewie haz bin heer awl day, helpin and loving and buying gushifuds for the kittehs, and driving me to hospital, an putting munnies into firemen’s boots. After the Doc gabe uz teh news, she helped me sing taht song, “If you get there before I do, don’t give up on me…I’ll be there when my chores are through..” She knew awl the werdz an singz bedder than me. They have cooked, mowed, washed and loved. Dotter Timmi iz commong down from Vancouver in morning to assist.
An uv corse, wittowt my cheezfrenz, wuld be much much darker time.
Schmooz. G’nite, wid minny luvs.