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Jon asked for this photo below so here it is.
His birthday was a couple weeks ago. I got him something kind of lame and Stacey got him something else. Anyhow. I was supposed to hang out with him Friday evening so I rushed to wrap it. Naturally, the only wrapping paper I could find was plain red and a little water damaged and I couldn't find the scotch tape either. So I thought I'd be clever and use masking tape both as tape and the ribbon at the same time. So I put two bands on it, making a cross and then decided that looked too christiany so I added another band and then it looked awful. So I stuck an old gas ignitor to it as a 'bow' to make it look like a bomb.
I figured we'd be meeting at Starbucks or something and he'd get a good laugh out of it.
Of course, it didn't work out that way. At lunch time, Stacey called and told me that she had called 911 and that she could not see and was having difficulty moving and thought she was having a stroke.
I rushed back to Santa Cruz and met her at the hospital and spent most of the rest of the afternoon sitting around while they observed her and ran tests. Long story short, they couldn't find anything wrong. After about an hour, she had largely recovered. Only her vision was slower to recover but that too seemed fine after a couple hours. Fun. :/
So they discharged her, told her to talk to our regular doctor, and take it easy for a few days. We called Jon and asked him if he wanted to come over and he did. Naturally of course, something I was working on at work that afternoon was now 'on fire' and I ended up working with a coworker until about 9PM on that so I wasn't much of a hostess. *sigh*
Still, we did eventually get to go out for a nice hike since it was a full moon and then we sat outside and had a snack and chatted until fairly late and finished off the evening with a Rocko's Modern Life marathon.
Stacey still seems to be doing okay even though we spent a good bit of today doing strenuous labor in the heat. Here's hoping next weekend will be somewhat more relaxing.
