The Dreaded Blue Screen of Death

It's been a crazy week for the Hermit on the Hill (yup, that's me). I have not been blogging because of unavoidable outdoor projects, cleaning the house to get ready for the appraiser, still trying to find the cause of a continuing all-over body rash after the poison ivy started to heal, and a cranky computer which kept shutting itself off randomly and for no reason.

This morning, I got the Blue Screen of Death, also known as the Full-On, Hard-Drive Crash. So I'm using Bill's computer, which I hate, and now have to figure out how to recover my files. At least it's now truly dead, instead of just constantly worrisome and annoying.

In the meantime, Virginia Unemployment wants to talk to Bill on the phone, somehow not understanding that he's in the middle of the ocean, a bit far away from any cell tower. Duh. They won't talk to me, despite my having his power of attorney. They don't do email. Bureaucratic balderdash always makes me crazy.

I do hate whining on this blog. I promise I'll get back to uplifting and interesting stories--as soon as I have some.

The Culprit

I have finally found my nemesis, living under the steps:

In between the scratching, the applications of cortisone, calamine, Aveeno baths and cursing, I've been doing some investigation of my environment. The poison ivy IS up, thank you very much.

And Echo hangs out under the steps, looking for tasty chipmunks to eat.

Ergo, ad nauseum, I have a simple virulent case of poison ivy.

Time to get out the Roundup and defoliate the Victory Garden...

Channelling the Creature from the Black Lagoon...

The scabby mess that is my nose (no M, you don't get pictures on this one) tells me that I am healing somewhat. But the more I ponder it, the less I think this is a systemic allergic reaction.

Why would something I took internally manifest in rashes on my left wrist and shoulder, both thighs, and the right side of my face? It sounds more like contact dermatitis to me. What did I tangle with, I wonder? The poison ivy isn't up yet, but perhaps the dog brought something similar home on her fur.

She is about thigh high when she brushes past me, and I've been wearing shorts lately, because the weather has been nice.

As for the face and shoulder, I've decided I've got to stop hugging that dog, at least until the plant life dies down next fall.

Elephant Woman

Not being a generally allergic person, I am always surprised when I break out in hives or swell up like a balloon or can't stop sneezing.

But I came in contact with SOMETHING, or ate SOMETHING that has turned me into an itching, peeling, mess of a person. I suspect it is a new herbal formula the Chinese herbalist put me onto, in the never-ending quest to calm my hot flashes. So, I have stopped all supplements, started taking Benadryl (nighty-nite, Pam...) and have spent the last two days in an oatmeal bath (thanks for the suggestion, M)!

I am afflicted with a hot patch of bumps on my neck and shoulder, weeping sores on my nose and upper lip, and itchy thighs and backs of knees. I had to go out and run bill-paying errands yesterday, and now know what it's like to be a leper. People SHUN you. They glance away. They barely contain their urge to RUN from your presence.

I am homebound until my visage clears up...

Housework, Always

Now that everyone is in their rightful place again, I am left with a big fat messy house. As I look around here at the dust, the clutter, the dog hair, the laundry, the dishes, the floors, and the spider webs on the ceiling, I just want to take a nap!

I love living in a clean house. I just hate cleaning it up to get it to that point. It usually takes me about a week of small bursts of effort to whip things into shape. Then I find it's easy to maintain it, at least when I'm living alone. Living with other people is messy and disorganized--and there are so many other fun things to do with those people instead of nagging them to pick up after themselves, or doing it for them.

So today, I cleaned the stove, took out all the garbage and decluttered the dining room table. Tomorrow, I may even vacuum.

Back on the Blogging Bus

Whew! A crazy couple of days since my last post. More fun and follies with Juli & Kerne, then getting them ready and packed for winging their way back to Seattle. They made it home late Friday night.

Bill arrived safely in Japan, and is now incommunicado on the briny deep somewhere. The ship's email isn't set up yet, but his bags made it. I will hear from him when I hear from him.

I spent yesterday at a craft fair in Morristown with some girlfriends who also do direct sales. Crowd was slow, but I made a little money, had a pleasant day and came home tired and happy.

Too funny: Many of the participants and customers at the show were BC warriors. Melanie told me of her boss' wife, who just had a double mastectomy. Her brother gave her a T-Shirt that reads across the front:

___________________________

* *
These are Fake

My real ones tried to kill me!

___________________________

We all laughed like hyenas. What seems like sick humor to those who haven't been through it, was just hysterically funny to all of us. One vendor wants to print up a bunch of these shirts. "Can you imagine?" she said, "we'll make a fortune!"

Good times, good times...

Sleeping, Sleeping

Yesterday, you would have thought a sprite sprinkled fairy dust on us all--we just slept and slept. I was up at 3:30 am to take Bill to the airport, and of course when we got there at 5 am, they told us his flight was delayed two hours. We went out to breakfast, and then I dropped him off for his interminable wait, and zipped back to Rogersville to take Juli and Kerne to the dentist.

By noon, we three were dragging, so we went home, changed sheets and exchanged beds and everyone collapsed. We got up in time to scrounge leftovers from the fridge, and then once again, flopped into our beds for another 12 hours of snoozing.

Bill is in the never-never land of the International Date Line, presumably still winging his way to Japan. I expect to hear from him tomorrow. The big trick will be if his seabags made the trip too, what with the delays and all.

I had hoped to work in the garden today, but it's kind of a gloomy day here, so we will probably just flake out, watch movies, play board games and bake cookies.

Not a bad way to spend a day.

A Whirlwind of Activity

I haven't been blogging, because it seems as though we've been on the run ever since the kids got here. Thursday, we cooked and had Seder. Friday, we went to Bays Mountain Park, hiked around and saw the animals (wolves, deer, bobcats sleeping in trees), and then went to the shooting range and made a lot of noise with firearms. (Not that we hit much of anything, that is.)

Yesterday, we went Spring fashion shopping at Walmart and out to dinner at the Pig 'n Chick for BBQ Birthday dinner for Juli. They then spent the evening teaching Bill how to use his new I-pod.

Today is another sunny day in the mountains. We will probably hike up the far ridge, while Bill is frantically throwing things into a seabag. He leaves tomorrow morning at 7 am for Japan. He still has to shave his beard and I need to give him a haircut. The beard has to go because occasionally he needs to use a respirator on board, and the mask doesn't seal well with facial hair.

So, busy-busy around here. Venison pot roast for dinner tonight. Then up at oh-dark-thirty to take Bill to the airport.

We're Cookin'

Juli and Kerne made it to TN last night, and after a late-supper of scrambled eggs and bacon, collapsed into sleep.

Juli and I have been puttering in the kitchen all morning. We've made the charoset, the gefilte-crab, grated the horseradish and beets, boiled the eggs, made a pineapple angel's food cake, and stuffed the lamb with garlic and put it in the oven. All we have left to do is roast the potatoes (I decided against the trouble and calories of latkes) and steam the asparagus.

In addition, Kerne dug holes so I could plant a peony, 3 squash seedlings and a row of cucumbers (my last cucumbers succumbed to the snow a few days ago, when I forgot to cover them overnight).

Bill is finishing up his "shoring up the deck foundations" project, in between yelling at the TV over the Maersk Alabama story. He got his travel documents last night from Maersk--he'll be leaving early Monday morning.

Now we are just relaxing and enjoying the day. Tomorrow will be stormy and rainy, so we are soaking up the sunshine and smelling the wafting roast aromas as they fill the house on the spring breeze.

Blessing in Disguise

Juli called this morning--their flight out of Seattle was delayed 2 hours, thus making their connections in Chicago and Charlotte impossible to catch. My clever daughter called United, cajolled and threatened, and managed to get rerouted through Cincinnati on Delta, with no additional charge. Kerne called a cab, and last we heard, they were running to catch their plane.

As it turns out, they will now be coming into Tri-Cities at a decent hour, 9:18 pm.

Sometimes, things just work out unexpectedly well!

Wildlife Among Us

We awoke this morning to the sound of "sawing," somewhere overhead in our beams. Bill investigated and came back with a report of a squirrel, setting up housekeeping inside our walls. Swell.

The otter has returned, and is happily doing laps in our upper pond, as if he/she is on a spring exercise program. We didn't meet the Farley's truck yesterday, declining to buy the otter fish dinners for weeks to come. We are told that the otter will eat every fish in our pond, and then move on to someone else's buffet.

Echo came home from her morning patrol, once again having rolled in otter poop, smiling and wagging because she managed to cover herself with the smell of sewage. So, before we were even dressed and through our first cup of coffee, we were giving her a bath, and cleaning out the bathtub afterwards. The dog is now damp, grumpy and clean.

Juli and Kerne will arrive tonight, very late, having spent a full 12 hours in the cattle-prodding atmosphere of airports and airline personnel. We fully expect them to be as cranky as the dog is now.

It's shaping up to be one of those days...

The Call

In our house, there is always cause for celebration and despair, whenever "The Call" comes. Happiness, because Bill still has a job. Despair, because he has to go.

Tonight, while I was grilling swordfish and steaming asparagus, (and making an awesome sauce out of pureed red peppers & garlic & balsamic vinegar), the cell phone warbled feebly. I quickly snatched it up, but the signal was lost almost immediately after I heard "is Bill there?" Bill called back on the land line, and sure enough, it was his employer. It was The Call.

They want him back on the USNS Observation Island, probably flying to the Orient on Easter Sunday, April 12. Bill asked if he could push his departure to the 13th, and they'll get back to him tomorrow on that.

Odd numbered years are his "short" years--he will only work 4 1/2 months this year, as opposed to 8 1/2 months last year. When he's at work, that's 12 hours per day, 7 days per week, for at least 120 days at a stretch. We try to rationalize, saying that most people don't have the luxury of spending four months at home for every four months they work. But the truth is, Bill is taking his retirement now, in 4-month chunks.

It's always sad when The Call comes, because our days together are numbered. And there's always a bit of elation, that the bank account will start to increase instead of diminish in the future. Good news, bad news.

It's a weird life, we know. Now we will start making lists of things that absolutely have to be done in the next 8 days. Changing out the UV bulb in the water system; digging up the backyard garden plot; storing the motorcycle; installing the new window in the van. In the midst of this, Kerne and Juli are coming to visit. Bill will most likely leave before they go back to Seattle. That makes it harder for him, easier for me--I will have an easier transition from house-full-of-people to solitude. He will have a truncated time with Juli and Kerne, and it will make him sadder to have to leave in the middle of their visit.

We've done this before, and we'll do it again. For better or worse, this is our lifestyle.

Found Bill AND a lamb roast!

I found Bill at the airport (I was on time, his flight was 20 minutes early), and we started on our way home, with a side trip to Kroger's.

We had success in the meat department, where apparently Kroger's has cornered the market on semi-boneless lamb legs this week. Of course, as with all quests, sacrifice was required. Bill asked if we needed to go to the bank first to get a loan to purchase said roast. The price was indeed breathtaking, but I was on a roll. We also found some sad, lonely packages of matzoh on a top shelf ("Not for Passover use"), and I grabbed one just in case I can't find any approved matzoh bread here in Rog-Vegas.

Since I am not really bonafide Jewish (though Mom has her suspicions that the Spelmans on her side of the family were assimilated), I can futz with the rules a little. Early on in my Passover cooking adventures, I called a friend in California for her recipe for Galician gefilte fish. "First," she said, "ask your fishman for a nice piece of whitefish."

"Fishman?" I replied, aghast, "Do you have any idea where I am in New York? I'm lucky to find a piece of frozen cod in the grocery! We're landlocked here!" Using what was available, I found that gefilte fish tastes so much better with the addition of crab (shellfish are definitely not kosher). The kids dubbed it gefilte-crab, and it's been part of our family tradition ever since. It's kind of like a Jewish crab cake, oxymoronic to be sure, but delicious.

Another traditional dish is Matzoh Ball Soup, but my matzoh balls leave so much to be desired. I don't have the knack for light-and-fluffy. Mine are more like lead shot, sinking to the bottom of the bowl of chicken broth. So, I may just "forget" to make the soup this year. Better to stick to what I do well.

The kids' favorite was always the Charoset, a sticky melange made with chopped apples, wine, walnuts and cinnamon, symbolic of the mortar used to build the edifices of Egypt, while the Hebrews were enslaved there. Everything about the meal is symbolic--the hardboiled egg and parsley for Spring, dipped in the salt water (tears); the horseradish tinted red with beets, signifying the bitterness of slavery; the unleavened bread, matzoh, because they had to flee Egypt before the bread could rise; the gelfilte fish for the parting of the Red Sea.

When I was very pregnant with Juli (she was born April 16), Bill and I went to Passover Seder at Cathy and Eric's house. It was Bill's first Seder. As we were just into the ceremony, Bill took a big forkful of the horseradish before I could warn him about the heat of it. Tears sprang to his eyes, and everyone at the table noted with approval of how the story of Exodus affected the goy newcomer, not realizing he was struggling mightily just to catch his breath, because his tongue was on fire.

What I love about Jewish ceremonies is that they are family celebrations, conducted by individuals in the sanctity of the home, without the necessity of intervention by authorized religious personnel, the covenant sealed with food. Each individual is charged with the responsibility of keeping the tradition alive, of passing the stories on to their children. Passover is especially significant, because it celebrates freedom and deliverance. The Last Supper was a Passover Seder; my family's observance is an homage to human perserverance, and the debt that Christianity owes to its Jewish heritage.

Searching for a Paschal Lamb...

While running around in Kingsport yesterday, I got the notion in my head that I wanted a leg of lamb, to serve for Passover when the kids were here.

At Food City, the Asian meat clerk had no idea what I was talking about. At Food Lion, they had leg chops (presumably, chopped off a lamb's leg), but no whole or even half leg roast. Ordinarily, I'd just change my dinner plans, but now I'm getting stubborn about this. My desire for a leg of lamb has assumed the quality of a quest.

Today, when I go to pick up Bill at the airport, I plan on hitting Kroger's and any other grocery I happen across. I don't think it's unreasonable to ask that lamb be available in the spring, but apparently, it's not something people are used to around here. I'd hate to think that I might have to just drive around, looking for sheep in the pastures, knocking on farmhouse doors.

I remember one Passover when the kids were still at home. We had about 25 people coming for Seder, and I was stuck at work, since Passover invariably happens near the same time as tax-crunch April. While I was busily entering data for the accountant, I was also on the phone to Juli, coaching her through stuffing garlic slivers in the roast, and getting it in the oven, so we would at least be eating before midnight!

As it turned out, it was the best one ever--go Juli! If all else fails, I may just have her go to the Metropolitan Market in Seattle and stuff a cryovac roast in her carry-on bag with a couple of ice packs. And make her cook it.

While the Bill-cat is away...

My "quiet time" is about to come to an end. Bill comes home from Florida tomorrow, then Juli & Kerne arrive on Wednesday for a 10-day visit. So it's feast or famine around here, chaos or solitude. Bill will probably ship out for his 120-day cruise before the kids leave, but at least we'll have some good family time, including Passover, Easter and Juli's 26th birthday while they are here.

Last night, friend Melanie and I went to "A Taste of Morristown," a fundraiser for the local Girl's Club. Thirty-one vendors gave out samples of their tasty food, coupons and giveaways. You'd think that just one bite from each booth wouldn't be much, but we were busting our buttons before we were even halfway through the lines.

Today is Medical Errand Day in Kingsport, including a visit to Mr. Acupuncture. I've had a little relapse this week on the pain front, and the dreaded hot flashes are back. I think my body has finally adjusted to the anti-depressant, and now it wants MORE! to keep the heats at bay. I'm not crazy about upping the dosage, so I'll ask Mr. Acupuncture to work on that problem too.

My gyn doesn't like my bone density numbers after all, and is prescribing a biphosphenate to prevent further bone loss. So I too have become one of those people on multiple maintenance medications I used to feel such pity for, when I worked in the pharmacy.

In my head, I'm still somewhere in my forties. In reality, I'm in my late fifties, and falling apart!

All Quiet on the Blog Front

I haven't been writing this week, mostly because there isn't a whole bunch to say.

I sleep. I exercise. I walk the dog. I watch all the television shows that I avoid watching when Bill is at home (because he snickers). I cook for myself and putter, doing little projects that are hardly worth mentioning, like changing out the paper towel roll. I watch the peas grow.

While Bill is off in Florida taking his "Dangerous Liquid Cargoes" class, I am being slothful. Today, I am going into town to get my hair cut. Big whoop.

When my life gets more exciting, you'll be the first to know.