Welcome Hunter, to Land of Osbourne

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 Doberman 11 months old 


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I Wanna Be Johnny's Girl

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A song just played on my iphone and it made me recall this. There is this one hit wonder called: "Bobby's Girl" by Marcie Blane from the 60's. When I FIRST met John, I was 18, going on 19, and I'd walk around the house (I lived at home), and I'd sing the lyrics, except I'd change it from "Bobby's Girl" to "Johnny's girl" there is this one part of the song where the back ground singers are singing: "Your not a kid anymore...." On the icing on my birthday cake when I turned 19, Mom had the bakers write: "Your not a kid anymore".... Here are the lyrics to that song: (You're not a kid anymore) (You're not a kid anymore) When people ask of me What would you like to be Now that your not a kid anymore (You're not a kid anymore) I know just what to say I answer right away There's just one thing I've been wishing for... I want to be Bobby's girl I want to be Bobby's g...
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The Ties That Bind—and Break

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In the heart of Minnesota, in the city of St. Paul, my parents’ story began. Mom, one of seven children, grew up in a bustling, lively home. Dad, a quiet, hardworking young man from the northern woods, moved to St. Paul for a better life. At just 18, he started a job at the Ford plant that would come to define his work ethic and stability. At 20, a week shy of his birthday, he married my mom. She was just 18, and they were determined to prove that teenage marriages could succeed. Four years later, I arrived—a quiet, shy, and introverted child, eager to please. Three years after that came my sister, Rachel, a whirlwind of chaos and contrast. Where I was reserved and studious, Rachel was loud, defiant, and impulsive—a troublemaker who seemed to thrive on pushing boundaries. From the beginning, our relationship was strained, shaped by our differences and, eventually, by her destructive choices. When I was 17, Rachel’s actions detonated a bomb in our family. In an attempt to impress her bo...
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Kneeful update

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Hi Guys, Well, I have kneeful news. I met with this super awesome specialist, one of the top knee surgeons in the State of Minnesota on Tuesday, where she and another collegue surgeon as well as a nurse did a battery of tests on my knee. Good News: I have not lost any strength at all in my knee, leg, or butt. YAY me. That's about as far as the good news goes. If I am really lucky, I tore my ACL again. (uplifting thought huh?) If I am not so lucky, I stretched the replacement ACL out. Not so lucky, you wonder? Why not so lucky? SIGH. Well, because one of the treatment options for that would be to cut a chunk of my tibia off, and put the whole mess back together again, thus preventing my knee from hyperextending, and causing further problems. Doesn't that sound just horrible? I can't imagine not only the pain levels but the rehab for that. Yikes! Hence my statement of if I am LUCKY, all I did was tear my ACL. Then I'll have another round of ACL surge...
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