Just Me - AmeliaJake, The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse

Last minute of the Super Bowl

February 6, 2012 AmeliaJake 3 Comments

I did not watch the Super Bowl – but I heard it from the other room. Or, more accurately, I heard the yells and catcalls that drowned out the commentary. Then as the game neared the end and the Giants had the lead, two people ran in and announced: 57 seconds left. Then they ran back in to the TV. I heard a series of visceral despairing cries and moans and near sobs and then . . . much cheering. I feel I helped them win by not watching – that’s the way my luck was going this season.

Of course, I missed the commercials, but I imagine I’ll be seeing them replayed, given the cost to put them on the air during the game. Oh, rats, I haven’t been watching TV since I got my Kindle. Well, I’ll look them up on the Internet. Obviously, this is just mindless rambling here – bear with me, please . . . I’m indulging myself.

Cameron has discovered the movie Deliverance, but is hesitant to watch it. I believe his imagination is taking him to places where the movie might have gone had it been made in 2011 instead of 1972. He could watch it the way he used to watch scary movies when he was little – from underneath a blanket. Now, Summer was more of a “behind the sofa” watcher – sort of like having a Jack in the Box behind you. Oddly enough, they both took great delight in getting me to watch Snakes on a Plane. (If it had not been so over the top, I would have been watching from behind the sofa and with two blankets over my head.)

******

Special note to Pottermom: Super Bowl Sunday – I thought of you.

3 thoughts on “Last minute of the Super Bowl”

Pottermom says:

February 6, 2012 at 7:37 pm

Ah. Thanks. This year it went okay, a few memories but mostly my mind was occupied with the mantra “right foot left foot right foot left foot” On Sunday I ran a half marathon in Galveston. Yes, 13.1 miles. It was 49 degrees, rained the entire race and a wicked wind of 20+mph blew from the north. I finished in just under 3 hours. I was so happy to finish and survive and hey, got a medal for finishing. Like a special olympics kid I proudly wore it to lunch!

I think my mom would have been there cheering me on, proud of me.
AmeliaJake says:

February 7, 2012 at 5:11 am

Uh . . . I walked from one end of the house to the other.
Albug says:

February 7, 2012 at 9:02 am

I talked about taking a walk. Good job Pottermom a much better way to spend SB Sunday.

Comments are closed.

***Jody Lynn Vance: 1985-2011***

Jody was born at sunrise on a bright, sunny, cold, snowy Groundhog’s Day and from Day One she was a gift to everyone around her. Her infectious laugh and rambunctious spirit made her the center of attention where ever she happened to be.

She and her Dad would watch Sesame Street and sing at the top of our voices (and quite out of key) all of the songs. She enjoyed having Mom fix her hair so it was fancy and just right.

As a toddler she had quite an impressive vocabulary and often had a lot to say. One time Dad was headed out the door to go to work and she pointed her finger and said, “No. No. No. Don’t go anywhere!“

Jody was very seldom crabby, always happy and she wasted no time in spreading that joy to everyone around her. Jody’s favorite place was to be perched on the lap of Mom or Dad or playing with her toys spread out all over the floor. Jody was always affectionate, wanting hugs and “moochies” as she called smooches on the cheek.

At around two, Jody’s illness began to attack her. It took a beautiful, innocent child and put her through untold pain and suffering,

I know that through all of that she was not afraid. She had the heart and spirit of lion. She never gave up; time after countless time, she would open her eyes and there would come that smile. Jody lost her speech, but never was at a loss for words. She could say more with a look or a half smile than most people do yakking all day long.

After numerous doctor, hospital, and specialist visits, we were given the news of her illness. I remember that moment frozen in time … it was as if the entire world stopped. It was in that brief moment we both knew that we must make the very most of the time we had remaining together and not dwell on the despair of all of the things that would never be.

Jody was not expected to live more than three or so - but she had too many things to do and stories to tell, so she cruised by that birthday and over two more decades of birthdays, Christmases and millions of smiles and hugs. Jody was well-liked by other kids; once when she was being wheeled into her classroom at Handicare, one of the children yelled, “Hey everybody, Jody’s here” and all the kids cheered.

Two of the biggest joys in her life were her two little brothers, Joey and Sammy. She would just beam with joy when they would sit next to her and when they began to get older she’d love to listen to them running through the house and playing together. The two of them would start laughing and Jody would laugh right along with them. She would listen intently to everything they did and they would include her as often as they could. The three of them loved watching Saturday morning cartoons and The Three Stooges.

Joe and Sam did without a lot of things that other kids had, did and took for granted … and they never once complained or were resentful of the way things were. That shows a special kind of love and a special kind of family.

As the years went by and the boys grew up into strong and healthy, Jody’s health slowly and steadily declined. She would have long stretches where she was fairly stable and then would become so very ill.

Many times we were sure the end was near and then she would open those sparkling blue eyes and stretch just like nothing had happened at all.

Once she was in the hospital with her usual bout of pneumonia and lapsed into a coma; this went on for 8 days. One Dr. came in, examined her and just shook his head. Later that night Jody’s eyes popped open and she was refreshed from her cat- nap.

People over the years have commented, ”I don’t know how you do it. ”This always struck me as odd. My thoughts would always be: How could you even think of turning your back on someone who needs you that much?

It was always our promise to Jody that she would always live at home with her family and I think she found comfort in knowing that.

But, no one person can take the credit for caring for this wonderful young woman. It has taken an army of doctors, nurses, teachers, aides, pharmacists, friends, and family over the years to maintain Jody at home, and we could never begin to thank you enough.

Jody always kept her head held high and never seemed to be afraid; she has truly been my inspiration on many occasions. When things were gloomy and seemed hopeless, just one smile and a hug was all I needed to go on. Jody will always be my hero. I love her and will treasure the time we had together.

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