OK, I admit I am picky about text readability, because it’s one of the things I focus upon in my web design class: If you want someone to read something, white on black or black on white are the easiest combinations to read, because they have the highest contrast.

This dialog box, however, is a pretty good example of what not to do.

Just checked my bank account.

I have not yet been stimulated.

Just what I expect from this president.

Some some random odds and ends instead.

The bright spot Sunday was I got to see the twins. They’re 7 months old now, and absolutely, unbelievably, adorable. James has gotten over his “colic” and is just as happy as his sister. He’s also extremely energetic, and kept bouncing up and down–he was a bit much from Grandmom to hold in fact. Helena was calmer, although just as happy. They also made the time and the funeral home easier for everyone, as it’s really hard to be sad when there is a baby giggling at you.

The temperature rose about 35 degrees yesterday, from the morning low in the 40s to an afternoon high in the upper 70s. No wonder every around here feels sick.

I will get pictures taken of the Geek Out Michael and I are having. We are so easily amused. :)

Also, just for Chris, I’m planning a post about Oatmeal. And how delicious it is. Try to restrain your excitement.

As I was reading the comments on yesterday’s post, I realized that I haven’t talked about some subjects that are important to me, and that some of you who have started reading here only recently may not know.

Up until last year, when I dropped out for mental health and personal reasons, I was pursuing and Masters in Public Health. The majority of my classes were gerontology classes, and the focus of my classwork and semester projects was end-of-life care.

And yes, those two subjects are quite often mutually exclusive.

When I discuss my inability to enter nursing homes, this is a phobia that goes back to my childhood. Yesterday’s post was an attempt to answer a question by that wasn’t quite asked by my aunt, as to why I was able to easily enter a funeral home, while remaining unable to deal with nursing homes. My phobia is specifically nursing homes, not funeral homes, not hospitals, and not the ill or the dying. As I said yesterday, it is the atmosphere of nursing homes, and the idea of them, that I am unable to tolerate.

Don’t get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with the idea of nursing homes, and in many cases they are necessary to preserve someone’s quality of life. I am simply unable to enter such a facility.

Additionally, I wanted to highlight a comment I made yesterday, which is that you need to talk to your family and your loved ones about what you would want to happen to you if you were to end up incapacitated.

This is a subject we think about primarily in reference to the elderly, however tragedies can happen to any time and anyone, and by making our wishes known now. Yes, it’s morbid and depressing, but far better to have a single morbid and depressing conversation than to give our loved ones days, months, or heaven forbid years of trying to guess what our wishes would have been.

So I’ll start, for this is as good a place as any to make my wishes known. If I were to become incapacitated, with no hope of recovery, I do not want to be kept alive with tubes and machines. Medical technology is a wonderful thing, but I would rather time and money be spent on those with hope of recovery. If tragedy strikes, I want to be remembered as a lively vibrant person, not to be kept around as a living memorial to myself. I don’t want the grief of my loved ones to stretch out over weeks and years. If I am gone, then let me go, so those I love can go on with their lives.

See? That wasn’t too hard. And hopefully that will lead you to have a conversation with those you love, with those who will have to make those hard decisions if you are unable to do so yourself.

And so as not end on a dark note…

Two carrots took a day off from work to go skiing. One lost control, was in a tragic accident, was rescued by the ski patrol, and rushed to the hospital for emergency surgery.

After many hours, the doctor came out to talk.

“Doctor, doctor!” said the second carrot, “how is my friend? Will he be okay?”

“I have good news, and I have bad news,” said the doctor. “The good news is he’ll live. The bad news is he’ll be a vegetable for the rest of his life.”

Ba dup dum.