The Laughing Zipper and new Cornbreadisms

There is definitely a reason why I was born and raised in a small town. I’m figuring this out, as this is the 10^th day that I will be driving to and from Gainesville to visit my dad in the hospital. Lord help, I hate making that drive everyday.

Anyways, back to the point of this blog. Well, to all who didn’t already know it: my dad has been in the hospital since last Wednesday. This makes the fourth time he’s been in the hospital since July 3rd. And omg, it’s been a roller coaster.

Now, besides my hatred of the daily drive, I am also getting sick of ALL the restaurants around. See, we have eaten out at least one meal a day since July 24^th. It has been insane. And OMG, my waistline is the tell-tale sign. I have seriously gained like 10-15 lbs and am drawing closer to just going out and buying some pepto-pink, floral muumuus.

I pulled my favorite jeans on the other day (I have like 3 of the same exact pair because I love them so much), and I swear y’all, the zipper laughed at me. It LAUGHED. Though I would like to blame it on a faulty zipper, I cannot. I did a “tuck all the pudge in” dance as I tugged the zipper up, it stayed for a split second, and rolled back down. I even did the lay-on-the-bed-and-try-and-zip method. That was a no-go, too. I went to my mirror, tried again, the zipper rolled back down. I swear y’all, it was mocking me.

Wouldn’t you know, I have to go back and see the doctor soon? That’ll be down-right pleasant, let me tellllll you. But I have a plan…I’m going to bake him a cake. Hopefully, just by my efforts, he won’t give me a hard time. But if he should say something, my response will be this “How the hell do you think I could ever be a size 0 when I bake this good??” …I pray it works. :-P I'll let y'all know!

Now, onto Cornbreadisms in the Hospital…

“For shame” me if you will, but I’ve got to have something to make me laugh.

One night, Brett and Mrs. Pegi came over to visit with him. He was telling them about some “foreigners” he had recently encountered. He said “You know…those people from England that can’t speak good English.” Lol.

Dad: "I need to eat healthier. Here, does someone want this banana they gave me?"

In the middle of the night, he shook his hand at my mama and said “Cindi, bring me a Miami.” Her reply was “what??” “I said, ‘bring me a Miami.’”….we still have no idea what he was talking about. He never got his “Miami.”

He woke up from a dream, on one of the days last week, and told my aunt “I hope Aleta got the lead out of Karter Lee (our dog).” She asked him what he was talking about. He said “I hope she got the lead out of Karter Lee. You know she stabbed her with a pencil.” ….What on earth that was about, I’ll never know. I love that dog! Promise!

The kicker: On Wednesday, he had a feeding tube put in. As they brought him back to the room after surgery, I noticed he kept giving the nurse the hairy eyeball (a/k/a the stink eye). After she walked out, mom asked “Jackie, how are you feeling?” He said “I’m hurtin’ real bad. You wouldn’t believe where they had me.” Mom was like “Where?” “They had me in the woodshed out back! They did my surgery in the woodshed.” He was so serious. And about that time the nurse walked back in and he kept pointing his head in her direction and rolling his eyes like something you'd have seen on Sanford & Son. Signaling that she was the nurse that had taken him to the “woodshed out back.” I had to walk out, I was laughing so hard. Mom was turning a nice shade of red trying to hold it together. He was still as serious as he could be.