Get used to the Stairs

David Rindlisbacher, my dad, retired from his classroom of forty years today.  His career as an art professor at WTAMU has been an incredible blessing for me and so many others. My parents rarely took pictures of us kids.  But I could line the halls with paintings of me and my siblings. Each brush stroke was a symbol of my dad's vision for his children, his masterpiece.  Dad, thank you for using your talents to provide a wonderful life for your family.   Happy Retirement!

The hospital staff was sad to see Millie leave today, but we have never been happier to say goodbye to a group of kindhearted, sweet people. Traffic was never lighter and the drive was never easier than it was coming back from the hospital. Millie keeps progressing like the six million dollar man and just continues getting better, stronger, and faster. Her doctors reminded her upon her release today that she'll feel like doing things in the coming days/weeks/months, but she has to discipline herself to be a sloth. She can't really go anywhere, or do much of anything other than stay in bed and occasionally get up for carefully supervised grooming activities. It sounds kind of like being in prison. Millie asked me how I thought I would be able to handle bed rest and I said I thought I would be well suited to it. I've always been naturally inclined to sloth-like activities. That's one of the beauties of our marriage, where one is weak the other is strong. I'll...

All of Millie's IV stuff has been removed from her left hand. She thankfully didn't punch anyone during the process (ask her sometime about getting her wisdom teeth out). She'll be so happy not to have to look at the image posted above anymore. She covers up the six holes on her right hand with a bandaid. Apparently they tried to place one of her IV's in that hand after the surgery but didn't have any luck. It's a good thing they didn't, otherwise she would have been completely immobilized. I know why everyone who meets her loves Millie (and her family as well). She's one of those people that makes you feel good to be around. She helps you find good in others and yourself. I read this in a book and think it describes her perfectly:  There is something in Millie. There is a fire. Life can be cold and dark at times. Millie gives off light and warmth. You want to stand close to her. To warm your hands, and melt the ice from your shoes. To ...

Before I was myself you made me me With love and patience, discipline and tears, Then bit by bit stepped back to set me free, Allowing me to sail upon my sea, Though well within the headlands of your fears. Before I was myself you made me me. This poem expresses what Millie would tell her mom right now if she could, and what Maggie will someday feel towards Millie. How thankful I am for my dear mother, the mother of my wife, and Millie the mother of my children.

We're here. Houston seems a little smaller this time around, maybe we just don't feel quite so out of place. Channel 2 came to Texas with us on the same flight. We turn quite a few heads walking through airports considering we have Davey in his wheelchair, and a cameraman and reporter documenting our every move. After getting up so early that even the feral peacocks in our neighborhood weren't awake, we had stops in Phoenix, and El Paso, and were then met at the Houston airport by some close friends who took us straight to the hospital. We were welcomed there by our wonderful team. After more ultrasounds, paperwork, consults, and doctor visits we're ready for bed. I'm scared, getting the IV was awful--nurses never believe me until they see me in action. Matt reassures me that I did beautifully, I wasn't even close to passing out according to him, but I'm not so sure. Seeing my mom, nieces, and nephews helped to ease the pain. Davey is the best care...