The Soldier and the Squirrel introduces children to the Purple Heart

through a loving story of a friendship between a newly wounded soldier

and Rocky the squirrel with his backyard friends. This story began as a

blog during my first year in bed after my incident. With much

encouragement, it is now a book and has been placed in the

Ronald Reagan Presidential Library & Museum. Please watch the video

on the About page to learn for the Soldier & Rocky are changing children's






Glorious Rejoice Dots Glitter





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Trail Mix

I don't know what it is, but all I want to eat lately is eat trail mix. Evidently there are many different kinds of trail mix. That's why they call it mix. It's the trail thing that confuses me. I understand finding nuts along a trail. You've got to be crazy to want to walk up the side of a mountain. But when did the miniature vanilla kisses come in to play? Dried cranberries. Ok. A bush died from global warming leaving berries that resemble shriveled, dried-up testicles. Ripe for the picking. But cashews? The rich man's nut. Does not belong in the crazy man's bag of tricks. And walnuts only belong in brownies.

So I lay here at two in the morning. Unable to sleep - thinking about what today will bring and gorging on food as confused as I. Then it happens. My fingers tussle through the individual one-portion Trader Joe's bag of mix for a miniature vanilla kiss to go with my very last nut. But the kisses are gone. I must eat the nut alone. Or with a testicle. But I am sick of testicles. I've been eating them all night. I want the sweetness of the kiss.

Five little one-serving bags are scattered on my stomach as I lay in bed. Expiration dates are "Best By February 2014". And I wonder - what will my expiration date be? When will my deterioration end? Will I end up with testicles too?

Today I meet with the neurologist to find out if I have a disease I will have to explain to small ears. Yet I wonder why I cannot sleep. That alone would befit a nut.

I Google "insomnia". Probably the most searched word on the internet. I mean, who would Google "asleep". That would be weird.

So I Google "asleep":

a┬Ěsleep (-slp)
1. In a state of sleep; sleeping.
a. Inactive; dormant.
b. Indifferent: politicians who are asleep to the needs of their constituents.
3. Numb, especially from reduced circulation of blood to a limb: My leg is asleep.
4. Dead.

Dead?! Really? Number 4. Did you have to go and put that in there? I deeply protest the insertion of Dead as a adjective for asleep. Especially for people who can't sleep because they might find out the next day if they soon might be dead.

It continues:

1. In or into a state of sleep.
2. In or into a state of apathy or indifference.
3. Into a state of numbness.
4. Into the sleep of the dead.

Really! Number 4. Again. In the sleep of the dead. Now they are messing with me. I know it. The sleep AND the dead thing together. Couldn't they just stop at numbness and leave it at that?

I would have preferred they simply stuck with number one. In the state of sleeping. Which is what I wish I was. Like my husband next to me. Numb to what tomorrow may bring.

But back to the nuts. I'm out of them. Except for the shell of what is left of me. Searching in this night for something sweet - to remove the bitter taste of night. Before the sun comes up and the day begins when I discover where this journey may lead. Along a trail. With berries. That once tasted so very, very sweet.

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