Ashley's own words.

"i just wanna give a little tribute to a dear friend of a sibling of mine, sandy. she was a pretty one, and we wish she didn't have to go... but shes in a better place, ocean heaven! unless lindsey didn't talk to her about Jesus and salvation."

My muse

It took me less than 24 hours to be inspired. I recently took a course to volunteer at the Texas Marine Mammal Stranding Network. We learned how to rescue stranded dolphins from the beach, and how to rehabilitate them in the Sealab. When they are stranded, this usually means that they are sick. Alot of times, they are so exhausted and weak that they can't swim on their own, and we have to carry them around the pool 24 hours a day. As long as an animal is in rehab, there must be 24 hour supervision. Why did I not go into this detail before? There wasn't a need for it, but now there is. Sandy was stranded on a beach (where, I haven't figured out yet) at 12:30 Sunday afternoon. She is an female adult melonhead whale. She's about 8 feet long, and we haven't weighed her yet. When I got the email from our director, I went up there to see if they needed any volunteers. I got the night shift, 12AM to 4AM which is perfect for me because I can't ever go to bed before 4 anyway. Luckily she can swim on her own,but not very well yet. She gave me a couple scares last night when she went from slow swimming to crazy fast and rolling on her side. She can't seem to get her bouyancy right, and it's making it alot harder for her to swim. Every 30 minutes I had to take her respiratory rate, and every four hours we had to feed her. This was quite an ordeal because to get her electrolytes back, they have to tube feed her. 3 people got in the water and held her, and 1 person put the tube in, while the other poured pedialyte and water in the funnel up top. After that, she was given some herring and capelin. She will take them from your hand, but is still not strong enough to chase them. She's not as friendly as a bottlenose dolphin would be, but she is getting used to us. Last night (or this morning) she would swim right up to the observation deck where I was sitting and lift her head up and stare at me. I haven't gotten in the water with her yet, maybe when I observe them doing it a few more times. She was supposed to be taken to the galveston lab tuesday, but she stopped breathing for a couple minutes and they couldn't find her heart rate. She was under alot of stress so they decided to keep her here a few more days. I will probably to back Thursday night and I will take some pictures for an update. She is as cute as can be.

Waiting for my second wind

I can't sleep. I decided that it's about time I write a good blog since I haven't written one in months. I've been sitting here wondering what to write about, and I've finally come to a good conclusion. I don't think I am cut out for the blogging world. I read, I comment, but lately I don't feel like posting at all. I've posted several half-ass posts, but generally nothing more. I read so many blogs, and there's no way I could write more than half a paragraph. I am not one to write flowerly, fabulous posts. For example: Instead of saying, "I feel like I am drowning in an infinite abyss of heartless professors and homework.." I would say, "I hate school." I can't stretch "I hate school" into a paragraph. not possible. I'll be reading and commenting until I can find something worth writing about.

By the way, I am currently applying for the Peace Corps. See? No need for a paragraph.

Baby got book

Go HERE


GOOO NOW!!

2,000 miles from here..

All of you need to see this video. It happens to be on my myspace as well. So to all of you myspacers, I am sorry I am shoving this down your throat.

I identify with Ben Stiller on this one. Maui is the place that imagine in my head when things aren't going so well, or I just want to be somewhere else. Jack Johnson is what I listened on the first trip. He takes me back to a better place and a better time. I am in love with him by the way.

Thomas Bickle

Support system helps couple deal with son's cancer
07:51 AM CST on Monday, March 20, 2006
By KIM BREEN / The Dallas Morning News
Sarah Bickle never understood the point of hospital vigils until her 7-month-old son underwent brain surgery on a cancerous tumor.
Friends and family became a cocoon that shielded her and her husband, Scott, from the unimaginable challenges confronting Thomas, their only child.

CHERYL DIAZ MEYER/DMN Thomas Bickle had a brain tumor the size of a racquetball. He'll start chemotherapy soon.
"With a blow this big, you just want people to put their bodies in the way," said Sarah, a teacher at Jasper High School in Plano.Sarah Bickle never understood the point of hospital vigils until her 7-month-old son underwent brain surgery on a cancerous tumor.
Friends and family became a cocoon that shielded her and her husband, Scott, from the unimaginable challenges confronting Thomas, their only child.
"With a blow this big, you just want people to put their bodies in the way," said Sarah, a teacher at Jasper High School in Plano.
Now the Bickles are turning to a growing support system of friends from school, work, church and the Internet to help them face their son's future.
Thomas Bickle sits in his bouncy seat, his gray-blue eyes fixed on his father's face, his baby fingers reaching for Scott's nose. He wears blue-striped feet pajamas and a goofy grin.
Thomas' brain surgery three weeks ago left him with a feeding tube in his nose and tiny stitches on his head. The tumor also robbed him of his baby babble. Surgery or the tumor, or both, injured his vocal chords. He can't cry or make a sound.
When Sarah brought Thomas to his six-month checkup late last month, she thought he was still recovering from recent minor illnesses. But after the nurse measured his head three times, the pediatrician gave the news: Something was seriously wrong. Thomas would need tests to look inside his head.
Still, Sarah and Scott managed to hold on to their laid-back sense of humor. On the way to the MRI at Children's Medical Center in Dallas, hospital staff asked whether Thomas had any metal on him.
"Just a nipple ring," they joked.
But when they sat with the social worker and neurosurgeon to look at the pictures of Thomas' head, they saw a tumor with appendages that looked like green horns growing out of their baby's brain. The couple asked for a room alone and dissolved into tears.
Dr. Brad Weprin, director of neuro-oncology, said the tumor was about the size of a racquetball. Pieces of it wrapped around Thomas' brain stem and nerves and spread to his inner ear.
"The surgery went very well," Dr. Weprin said. Tests show that no tumor remains, he said.
But Thomas' fight is just starting. The doctors say it's very likely a tumor will grow again.
Doctors typically treat children with Thomas' type of tumor –called an ependymoma – with radiation after surgery. But children with the tumor are usually several years older than Thomas.
Radiation, the most successful treatment, is typically not used on babies because it affects their developing brains. Doctors plan to treat Thomas with chemotherapy starting this week. They say it's less effective than radiation. But they don't want to use that treatment until he's 2 or 3 years old.
The prognosis is fairly good for older children, Dr. Weprin said. "In younger children, the results are not as good."
Still, he is cautiously optimistic.
"My goal, my hope, is for him to grow up and die of natural causes, not from this tumor."
Scott resigned from his job last week to take care of Thomas once he comes home from the hospital.
Sarah's insurance will cover most of the medical expenses, so she'll continue to teach. Still, the family's out-of-pocket medical expenses could reach several thousand dollars.
The family was already struggling financially before Thomas' illness. Updates to their 50-year-old Richardson home and bills from Sarah's unexpected Cesarean delivery with Thomas in August drained their bank accounts.
She had already used up her paid leave because of required bed rest during pregnancy and recuperation after Thomas' birth. Neither Sarah nor Scott is drawing a salary right now. She plans to return to the classroom soon.
The couple has turned to the Jasper High School community and the Internet for help. Sarah's principal, Michael Novotny, posted on the school's e-mail listserv to parents about Sarah, who teaches English as a second language.
Sarah writes regularly on a blog about Thomas' trials: www.thomasbickle.com. The site allows people to donate online.
It also helps relay news to countless concerned loved ones and acquaintances, and it gives Sarah an outlet to talk about what is happening.
"There's not even words for this," she said. "It's so surreal, so hard to get your head around."
She doesn't know how to respond to people who ask how she's doing. "It's really hard to say where we're at."
So, she writes.
Scott regularly sleeps on the couch in the ICU. Friends deliver food daily and schedule visits so the couple won't ever be alone or inundated with guests.
Sarah and Scott, both in their late 20s, are exhausted and emotionally raw. During a recent visit, he seemed close to tears while talking about their changed lives.
But they continue to laugh, too. After nurses said they had to wean Thomas from narcotics, Scott joked: "So, my son's a drug addict."
Thomas will likely remain in the hospital for a few more days and begin chemotherapy before he goes home. Dr. Weprin said the family faces years of treatment.
"These life-altering events can occur anytime. Never have that attitude, 'It's never going to happen to me,' " he said. "That's what people need to understand."

My room is a pig sty.

I totally had to google that for the correct spelling, and apparently I am not the only on with a messy room.
I am not really mess person though. My family thinks otherwise. In high school, my parents were always telling me to clean my room. When I changed clothes, I would throw whatever I was wearing on the floor. Maybe a couple pairs of shoes were carelessly thrown around. My bed wasn't made, and there was a load of neatly folded clothes on the bed to be put away.
I packed up my room and moved to a dorm at SFA.

It was simple and always clean, with a few occasionally messy days. No matter how tired I was, I would atleast shut drawers, or close the closet door, or put away my shoes. Moving into my was a bit harder. I had an entire apartment to clean, not just a tiny room.

I tried to clean it as much as possible. (Notice the Comet AND All-purpose cleaner) My room was clean. I had a walk in closet for the first time in my life, and what did I do? I blew it. My closet had a huge pile of clothes on the floor. Almost always. I had just enough room for all my clothes, and they generally just stayed on the floor. I was relieved to move into my house, cleaning wasn't going to be so bad at all since I just had to clean up after myself and take care of my room.

K, so this isn't my current room. This is actually my room when I was moving, but I put this up to make a point. This room is much more organized than my present room, and I am not about to post a picture of how much of a slob I've become because it's much worse than you are picturing I assure you. I blame this on one thing: my closet. It's tiny. If I were to climb in it, I would have to assume the fetal position. This is not ok. I like clothes, and buy alot. Some would save I have too many clothes, which is true. But the fact is, this closet is NOT LIVEABLE and that's why my clothes are on the floor. I can't hang them neatly cause there's no room. I've folded as many as possible and crammed them into my drawers, but there's simply not enough space for my clothes. I don't even think I'd need a walk in closet, but atleast a closet big enough to hold my clothes. My closet at home held my clothes. This one barely fits my shoes.

My other point, I am not a slob. I can't stand that my room is always dirty and cluttered. I can't focus. I can't do my homework. It's unliveable, and its because of my closet.

I have decided y'all (Kerri) will think I should purge my closet, and get rid of some of my clothes that I don't wear. Yes this should be done, but I am saving that shirt I bought in 95 with the tags still on it for the next 90's party. So there.

Wise words from daddy

'Lindsey, I am going to have to break your legs if you forget to lock the sliding glass door one more time.' -Friendly Fred

An offical dolphin saver, unofficially.

I spent my Saturday morning training for this. Thanks mom for mailing me my wetsuit cause it was COLD in the water.

Real World: Corpus Christi

Well, not really, but the fight we had last night was very much up to real world par. Sean's new puppy chewed Carrie's 200 dollar straightener. We used to keep her in her kennel, but we tried putting her in the hallway with a dog gate to see if she won't scream all day long. I got home, saw that Isis had stuck her greedy little paws under the crack in the door and pulled the bottom of the cord out. I didn't think anything of it (stupid, I know) and put the cord back in the bathroom further away so she couldn't reach it. Carrie comes home, plugs in the straightener, and we hear a loud pop. Isis had chewed a hole in the cord. Carrie tells Sean, and Sean says it's not his responsibility. He says, when he's not home and we are, it's our responsibility to make sure she doesn't chew anything up, and if he isn't here, then it's not his fault and she shouldn't have left it in the bathroom. Carrie disagrees, says it is his dog and his responsibility whether he is here or not. This is her house, if she wants to leave the straightener in the bathroom she can, and if she wants to leave her door open too, she can do that. I am in my room with Daniel talking and listening to music, until I notice there is some angry voices in the living room. I turn on the music and Daniel and I try to figure out what's going on. Things have gotten pretty heated, there is some hard core yelling going on. Sean says something to Carrie that pissed Daniel off, so Daniel goes in there and says don't talk to her like that. Sean yells this is none of your business you don't live here. I hear this. I say, Don't talk to him like that cause this is my house and you don't talk to my guests like that. Carrie storms out, Daniel and I walk back into my room. Daniel pissed off like no other. Sean knocks on the door and wants to talk to me. He is telling me that it's not his responsibility, and I tell him that he should have offered to pay for it, or atleast try to fix it. He says Carrie can be a bitch, Daniel says don't talk about her like that. Sean starts up with I'm not talking to you, you don't live here. I tell Sean (with more enthusiasm this time so maybe he'll get it) not to talk to Daniel that way. Daniel says let him talk to me this way, go ahead say what you want to, and something about Stewart would have punched him (Carrie's boyfriend) . I swear I've never seen him so mad. So I slam the door to my room before Daniel punches him and we hear Sean yelling get out of my house. I decided the home is not safe, and tell Daniel to be the bigger person and not say a word on the way out the door. As we walk out, I tell Sean never to tell Daniel or me to leave my own freakin house again. That was our fight speed typed, and edited. I am pissed at Sean cause he thinks that dog is our responsibility when he's not here, but it's not. Just because we oked him having a dog in the house does not mean it is our dog. The only responsibility I take for that dog is when I take the dog out of it's kennel or let it into my room when he's not there. If it is in the kennel or locked up, it is not my responsibility. Whatever that dog does is his responsibility, it's like a child. You can't just not be responsible for it because you aren't with it. K, I am done for now, had to get that rant out before class. Wow, what's a synonym for responsibility so I can change up that last paragraph..