Echo in Trouble

Today, Bill and I will go back to the vet, the third time in three days. Echo is very ill, weak and feverish, unable to walk more than a few steps.

Yesterday, the dog-doc took x-rays and found she has an enlarged kidney and a swollen liver. But we still have no definitive idea what is causing her distress. We have decided to treat as if it were leptosporosis without going through the expense and wait of doing the test. Hopefully, she'll be able to pull through once more, as she did last fall.

Bill and I took dog-watch shifts last night, so we're both running on half sleep rations. I just hope this isn't the end for my beloved canine pal.

Turn off the A/C--Autumn Arrives!

Sunday, after the big two-day rainstorm, we turned off the heat pump and threw open the windows. We let the fall breezes air out the house, listened to the leaves rattle around on the driveway, and breathed a sigh of relief! Summer's sweltering heat is over. Autumn is here!

I love living in Tennessee, where the seasons come in almost perfect three-month chunks. Just about the time I am completely tired of winter, spring comes roaring in with its greenery and blooming trees. When I think I can't stand another day of hot-humid summer, fall arrives. When I'm bored with the world turning brown, it snows. Perfect!

Football. Brightly-colored hillsides. Stew and chili and apple pie. Homemade soup and bread. Crisp, cold air. Snuggling under the quilt. I don't know anyone who doesn't like autumn.

Just the two of us again

Bill's dad took off for Illinois early this morning. He wanted to leave on Friday, but our torrential rainy weather kept him here until the storm finally moved on. The pond is full again and the creeks are roaring, after two days of almost solid rain.

Today looks like it's shaping up to be sunny, cool and gorgeous. Bill and I are off on an exploration trip to Sycamore Shoals and Watauga Lake for the day, with date-night dinner plans in Johnson City.

Back to being a couple again. Back to the History Channel (instead of Big Joe's Polka Show and Lawrence Welk and Hee Haw reruns). Back to staying up late together without tiptoeing around Dad sleeping on the couch.

And no more accordion music playing all day long! My stress level just went down from 10 to 1.

TGIF!

I'm still loving my new job, but boy am I tired! I am so glad it's Friday!

I've always thought that the only thing wrong with real jobs is that they make you go every day. That, and the fact that you have to wear shoes.

Naturally, Bill is fed up with me being gone, so he's planned a whole day of whirlwind activities for Sunday, just to wear me out before I have to go back for more training every day next week too. The following week, I will start my normal schedule of two days per week, eight hours per day. It will seem like a vacation!

Bill & Bud's Excellent Adventure

Bill and his dad arrived late last night, just as I was getting ready for bed. The news from St. Louis is good--dad's cancer is in a temporary hiatus, and the doctors believe he can discontinue chemotherapy for the time being. They are quick to say he can resume anytime, but for now, Dad is enjoying life without the debilitating side effects that were making him so miserable.

Bud will stay with us for a few days until he decides to go home. He's a rambling man, and never stays in one place very long. He's sleeping on the couch on the main level, because he doesn't trust his numb feet on the narrow stairs to the loft.

I continue my work adventure. Yesterday was okay, but I found myself on information overload, and pretty much forgot everything I learned the first two days. It is also very hot--the budget doesn't allow truly comfortable A/C (the director keeps the temp at 78), so I am wardrobe-challenged. I keep dressing lighter and lighter each day, but I come home as sweaty as if I have been working out at the gym.

My only hope for winter is that the director will be just as frugal with the heat as she is with the cooling in the summer. If she keeps the library at 68 or below, I might be able to make it through the day without being in a constant overheated hot flash.

Uncommemorated

I let the two-year anniversary of my Big Boo-Hoo diagnosis slip by without mention, and I'm not really sure why. I thought about it briefly a few times, both before and after the date, but dismissed it as something unremarkable. As in: not deserving comment.

But today is my two-year anniversary of this blog (I think?), and that can be remarked upon. Two years ago, shaking and crying with terror and self-pity, my new friend MaryAnn told me to get over myself and start writing. I thought at first that the blog would be a place where I could keep my friends and family informed all at once, without having to talk to everyone over and over, rehashing my self-absorbed dramas, ad nauseum. What I didn't anticipate was that it became my therapy and my daily touchstone, a routine to measure out the days and a way to work out my fears, my anger, and my despair. Bless you, M. You changed my life as profoundly as the cancer did.

The blog has changed. Hell, I've changed in ways I'm only now discovering. I guess I really have moved on, and the whole process has been documented through these posts. But they have acquired the aura of a dusty old archive, stuck away in a back file cabinet, of a person I don't remember being anymore.

I still have to be on guard against smugness. The evil mugger still lurks, always just around the corner, waiting for an opportunity to destroy my carefully reconstructed peace. I suppose it will always be there, like a random meteorite hurling towards Earth, ready to smash out all-life-as-we-know-it, while we all go about our lives unaware of the looming disaster to come. But that's tomorrow. Scarlett O'Hara's dictum applies.

With all the milestones, life will never be the same. But it never is really the same, is it? Each experience, each day changes us in imperceptible ways. The big events just make us aware of the changes because they require a radical mind-shift from what was to what is and what will be.

I find myself actually looking forward again, something I haven't dared to do for a very long time. I am coming around to the idea that I might have a future again, a span of years that stretches so far into the distance that I feel like my mortality might not be imminent, but later. Much later.

The original purpose of the blog has been fulfilled. But I find I enjoy writing about everyday things, random thoughts, simple triumphs and small discouragements. And so, I will continue to struggle for peace and humor, and I will continue to write.

Work

I enjoyed my first day of work. I learned where everything was, shelved books (and fixed mistakes whenever I found them), checked in and checked out, and even helped a woman with a major computer problem, just by noodling around and trying everything I could think of. It worked and she went away happy.

It's downright exhausting to be on my feet in big-girl shoes for a whole day though. I came home, walked the dog, wolfed down a sandwich and collapsed on the couch. When I woke up at 7:30, it was dark and the day was over!

All of this meant that I was still awake at midnight, with no signs of getting sleepy. I finished my bedtime book and turned out the light, and began a mental list of all the jobs I have had (my version of counting sheep, I guess). Let's start with just those I had before I graduated from high school:

1. Teen columnist for the local newspaper at 11
2. Babysitter at 12-18
3. Girl Scout Daycamp Counselor at 13
4. Swimming & springboard diving instructor at the YMCA at 14-17
5. Waitress at 15
6. Inventory clerk at Robert Hall Clothing at 16
7. Jafra cosmetics consultant at 16
8. Grocery bagger at Lucky Market at 17

Then, the jobs I had during college and my first marriage:

9. Cashier at a movie theatre in Laguna Beach, CA
10. Cashier in the UCI cafeteria
11. House painter
12. Drug counselor
13. Deli worker at Honey Baked Hams in Corona del Mar, CA
14. McDonalds in Santa Ana
15. Short-order cook at UCI
16. Assembly-line worker in furniture factory
17. Assembly-line worker in IV factory
18. Assistant manager at Honey Baked Hams in Anaheim
19. Office manager at YMCA in San Jose
20. DJ at KUCI
21. Advertising production manager for UCI newspaper

Then, after graduating from college:

22. Paste-up artist for advertising agency
23. Assistant to the CFO
24. Cocktail waitress
25. Freelance advertising & public relations
26. Typesetter, graveyard shift
27. Import customs expiditer
28. Staff writer for Century 21

And when I got together with Bill:

29. Managing editor for C-21
30. Newswave reporter at the 1980 DNC convention
31. Avon lady in Orange County
32. Bartender in Lafayette, Louisiana
33. Waitress in St. Martinsville, Louisiana
34. Bartender in North Pole, Alaska
35. Freelance writer
36. Avon lady in San Pedro

After Juli was born, Bill and I moved to Vallejo, where he went to college for four years:

37. Waitress in Napa, California
38. Cocktail waitress in Crockett, California
39. Waitress in Vallejo, California
40. Discovery Toys sales
41. Avon sales

And then, we moved to New York:

42. Waitress in Saratoga Springs, NY
43. Account manager for radio WCGS
44. Freelance radio advertising sales
45. Publicity writer for the school district
46. Rx technician at Rite-Aid in Corinth
47. Culinary student
48. Volunteer work for HSA/PTSA
49. Homegrown - plant & seedling home-based business
50. School board trustee
51. Bookkeeper & Tax Prep
52. Ebay sales
53. Pampered Chef sales
54. Longaberger sales
55. Tastefully Simple sales
56. Substitute high school teacher
57. Stock clerk at Wal-mart (my shortest job--1 & 1/2 days, and I quit!)
58. Rx tech at Rite-Aid in Glens Falls

Finally, to Tennessee:

59. House renovator
60. Cancer patient (hey, it's a full-time job!)
61. Cutco, Longaberger, Tastefully Simple sales
62. Rental property manager
63. Library helper

Are you asleep yet? I fell into slumber somewhere around the factory work...

Pickle & Peach Joy; Corn Grief

While Jeannie and I were making a joyful mess in the kitchen over the weekend,


the ever-present varmints were having a picnic outside, with my corn as the main course:

Jean and I sighed and cleaned up the mess. Then I took it as a sign that it was time to harvest the remaining ears--obviously, someone thinks the corn is ready to consume. My little patch yielded 18 small ears (minus 5 from the critters' dinner party). Not bad for a first experiment.

J and I were so pleased with our 10 pints of Bread & Butter Pickles! The canning water bath was still hot, so we pulled 2 quarts of last year's peaches out of the freezer and made 5 pints of Peach Jam. After all that hot stove work, I was still dithering about what to have for dinner. I made a half-hearted attempt at defrosting some chicken and poblano peppers. We briefly thought about going out for Mexican food, but when Jean expressed a desire for a margarita and we told her this was a dry county--no margaritas in this venue--we quickly decided on pork tenderloin leftovers, hash browns and steamed green beans. And much wine. And the last of the awesome apple pie I made on Friday.

Awesome Apple Pie

1 pie crust

Mix together and pour into unbaked crust:

8 tart apples (I used 4 Winesap and 4 Granny Smith), peeled, cored and sliced

Juice of 1 lemon

2 Tbls. cinnamon

1 Tbls. brandy

1/2 cup sugar

1/3 cup Pie Filling Enhancer (from KA Flour Company)

1/4 cup Boiled Cider Syrup (from KA Flour)

1 tsp. vanilla

Topping

Mix together with fingers until crumbly:

1/2 cup brown sugar

1/2 cup flour

1/2 cup chopped pecans

3 Tbls. cold butter

Spread over the apple filling and press down lightly. Spritz lightly with water, just until topping is moistened.

Bake 20 minutes at 450, then cover with foil and bake for 50 minutes more at 350.

Bill left for Illinois yesterday, and is on his way to St. Louis with his dad this morning. Jeannie left for Kentucky in the early afternoon. I went to the movies, and spent a happy two hours with Julie & Julia.

Julia Child was my heroine when I was growing up. I used to watch The French Chef on my lunch hour when I was in elementary school. She was my secret crazy aunt, and I knew even then that she was changing the world with her whisks (no one in America had ever seen a whisk until her TV show!), her butter and her wine. Bon apetite indeed. Obviously, I loved the movie.

And now, I am up early, keeping my ambivalence at bay while I figure out what to wear and how to get to WORK at the appointed time. A new adventure.

Where does the time go?

All of a sudden, it's the weekend. How did that happen? I kept meaning to get to the blogging, but something of greater importance (laundry? dishes?) always kept me from going there.

Cousin Jean is visiting this weekend, and today we're going to make pickles! Jean has been wanting to do this all summer, but with her new job it's been difficult to schedule. Bill is planning on leaving for Illinois tomorrow, driving up to be with his dad on Monday for the oncology appointments.

And I start my new part-time job at the local library on Monday.

Life is about to get more complicated. I'm going to have to make a concerted effort to remember what day it is, so I can get myself to work on the right days. A major life-change.

Adirondack Death Sauce

After yesterday's post about okra, including a mention of my staple Adirondack Death Sauce, some have requested the recipe. Here it is:

Adirondack Death Sauce (as in "so good you want to jest lay down and die...")

In Large Saucepan or Dutch Oven combine:

1 1/2 Cups Red Wine Vinegar
1/2 Cup White Wine
1 Cup Water
1 Tbls. Crushed Red Pepper Flakes
1 Tbls. Freshly Ground Black Pepper
1/2 Cup Catsup
2 Tbls. Salt
3 Tbls. Worchestershire Sauce
3 Tbls. Yellow Prepared Mustard (not dry mustard)
3 Tbls. Brown Sugar
2 Tbls. Maple Syrup

Bring to a boil, then simmer uncovered for 30 minutes. Cool and store in glass bottles (wine bottles with a cork work well) in a cool, dark place.

Makes a little more than a quart--I usually quadruple it and make a gallon or so at a time--it will last for about 3 years.

I developed this when we lived in New York. It's great with all meats, but especially pork. A splash into a pan of sauteing pork chops, a glug into a pot roast liquid, or use as a spicy chicken marinade before grilling. It's hellaciously spicy, a little goes a long way.

Fried Okra

To live in the south is to embrace okra. This humble vegetable thickens gumbo in Louisiana and adds slimy texture to Carolina stews, but here in Tennessee, we treat it like every other food--we FRY it! Since moving here, I've had fried yams, fried taters, fried green beans, fried grits, fried chicken salad (don't ask), fried zucchini, fried eggplant and even fried dill pickles.

Bill is still a non-believer when it comes to okra, but he'll pretty much eat anything if its been breaded and fried. I'm usually the opposite--grill it, bake it, steam it or broil it, but keep my food out of the deep bubbling vat o' fat, please. But okra is one of those strange oddities--I think the only good way to eat it is fried. It tastes crispy and green, without the mucilinigious breakdown other cooking methods expose.

I made a pot roast the other day with a 7-pound hunk of boneless pork loin on sale for only $3 because it was the last date of sale. I figured the safest food prep would be to simmer the darn thing for many hours, so I browned it and then poured in apple juice and the spicy Adirondack Death Sauce I make every couple of years and keep in corked glass bottles in the basement.

And because the Farmer's Market was overflowing with everything I already grow here at home (except okra), I brought home a bag of the little darlings and decided to experiment with Bill's palate to see if he would eat or balk at the side dish.

Easy Fried Okra

A small bowlful of okra pods, sliced into 1/2" rounds
1/4 cup low-fat milk

Let sit for about 10 minutes. Stir until it gets a little goopy.

Heat 1/4" peanut oil in a skillet until hot.

Stir together:
1/4 cup flour
1/4 cup cornmeal
salt & pepper

Dump into okra and toss lightly. Turn the whole mess into the hot oil. It should sizzle aggressively. Separate the okra and let cook until browned, then flip them all over to brown on the other side.

Lift out with a slotted spatula onto paper towels, drain and eat while they're hot and crunchy!

Bill ate them and raved. He even took the last one.

A Real Job? Really?

I hadn't planned on rejoining the ranks of the actively wage-earning employed, but without thinking about it, I seem to have a job.

I wasn't completely passive about it--I filled out an application, I put on some big-girl shoes and went to an interview. But I was amazed at how casually I approached the whole process. I really didn't care if I got the job or not. My attitude during the interview was completely relaxed, without any hesitation or double-thinking about what the "right" answer was to any question. And when they didn't call back to tell me I had the job, I didn't spend even a moment in self-castigation or regret.

And then, they called and offered me the job. Now what? I guess I have to go, they seem to want me. No one could be more surprised than I.

So here's the deal: I will be working at the H.B. Stamps Memorial Library on Tuesdays and Thursdays from noon until 8 pm, and one Saturday per month. At a truly ridiculous wage, less than I was making 30 years ago. But I am mildly interested, completely confident that I can do this without too much aggravation or inner turmoil, and it's time.

I haven't worked for regular wages for nine years. I have done odd jobs like managing the rental properties, and run my eBay auctions, and done direct sales, but nothing that would be considered a "real" job for a very long time. It made sense when the kids were at home and Bill was at sea--when I was employed (part-time), the job had to fit into my primary role as parent. It also made sense while we were trying to make our wreck-of-a-house livable, and I was up to my ears in lumber, drywall and paint.

But I have grown a little bored with my hermit-like existence on the mountain, and I need to think about the future. No one is going to hire me full-time when my last real job was in 2000. We need to start aggressively saving for retirement, and this is my first tentative step back into mainstream employment. I like books. I like libraries. I guess I can tolerate dressing up and being an adult for two days a week.

I start "training" on September 21. I will have to shake off my post-cancer ennui, and deign to show some enthusiasm, I suppose. I am wary of getting too excited, presumably protecting myself from disappointment if it doesn't work out. Deep down, there's a small hope that maybe this baby-step towards rejoining life again will open up other possibilities, and I will finally be able to "move on" from the emotional doldrums I've been in since I got that life-changing diagnosis two years ago.

I'll just have to wait and see what happens.

Computer Blues

It started a few days before Bill came home. The computer that Alex built for himself in 2003 began getting cranky about booting up in the morning. It would begin its routine and then click off. I'd turn it off at the power strip and try again. And again. Sometimes it would boot on the fifth or eighth or tenth try. I thought it might be an electrical problem with the I/O switch.

In the meantime, my computer (the cadged-together monstrosity, rebuilt many times with spit and duct tape and cannibalized parts from other dead or dying past computers) has been suffering from some sort of old-age, slow-down malady. It was becoming impossible to list eBay auctions without going crazy--one listing could take up to 20 minutes to complete.

Tuesday I unplugged everything from Bill's computer and hauled it off to Bean Station to Steve's Hospital for Ailing Computers. With luck, I could get a quick fix on Bill's machine, contract with Steve to build a new computer for me and my business, and all would be well.

So much for my hopeful expectations. As soon as Steve took the cover off, he spotted the problem. Leaky capacitors, right there on the motherboard. The CPU is old and trashed. A complete brain overhaul is needed. Ch-Ching!

I came home without Bill's machine, and a bill for two new computers. We are limping along with my developmentally-challenged computer until parts arrive from Chicago. Our best guess is that we will be back up and running by Monday. Bill is already showing alarming signs of internet withdrawal.

It's going to be a long weekend coming up...

Rainy Labor Day Weekend

Not much to report at the family compound over the weekend. We spent a quiet few days doing chores between the rain showers. Bill is working mightily on defoliating the overgrowth of summer, which I have successfully ignored up to this point. He's clearing paths, cleaning leaves out of gutters, mowing grass, whacking weeds...and sneezing.

I've been cooking and cleaning and knitting, catching up on my recorded shows in between Bill's history, guns and motorcycle recordings. I sold and packed up auctions. I tried to fix my failing AeroGrow hydroponic pump and ended up breaking it completely--they are sending another one, no charge. In the meantime, I'm keeping the lettuce seedlings alive with a turkey baster. I dug up the raised bed and planted potatoes.

Today is Tuesday, and the sun is out. Time for more outdoor fun.

Not so easy, but oh so good!

The challenge with Eggplant Parmesean is to avoid the greasy, soggy mess that it too often becomes. Could I make a toothsome, lower-calorie alternative to the usual? It took a lot of prep work, but it was the best Egg Parm I've ever made:

Eggplant Parmesean

2 lbs. eggplant, sliced crosswise into 3/4" slices
1/4 cup kosher salt

Salt the eggplant slices and place in a large colander in the sink. Let drain for 2-5 hours, tossing occasionally with hands. Rinse thoroughly with cold water, then drain and press slices firmly between layers of paper towels with the palms of your hands.

Preheat oven to 425 and place a large sheet pan in the oven. While heating, make 3 bowls or pie plates with the following mixtures:

4 slices white bread, processed to fine crumbs
1/2 cup shredded parmesean cheese
1/4 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. ground black pepper

1 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 tsp. ground black pepper

2 eggs, beaten

Place half of the eggplant slices in a bag with the flour mixture and shake until coated. Shake off excess from each slice, dip in beaten egg and then in crumb mixture. Lay on a rack to dry. Repeat with remaining slices.

When sheet pan is hot, remove from oven and add:

3 Tbls. canola oil

Tilt pan to coat. Lay eggplant slices on the sheet pan in one layer and return to oven.

Bake for 10 minutes, then carefully turn slices over. Bake for another 10 minutes. Reduce heat to 350, and bake for an additional 10 minutes.

While the eggplant is sizzling, make the sauce:

Heat in large saucepan:

1 tsp. olive oil
4 cloves garlic, pressed

Heat just until garlic becomes fragrant, then add:

1 large can of diced tomatoes, processed to a chunky puree
10 basil leaves, roughly chopped

Simmer sauce on low heat until the eggplant is done.

In a 9 X 13 baking dish, place 1 cup sauce. Layer half the eggplant slices over the sauce, then top with:

1/2 cup part-skim mozzarella cheese, shredded

Place a Tablespoon more of sauce on the center of each slice, then layer the remaining eggplant on top.

Again, place a Tablespoon of sauce on the center of each slice (leaving most of the eggplant unsauced, to keep it crispy), sprinkle with:

1/4 cup part-skim mozzarella, shredded
1/4 cup parmesean, shredded

Return to the 350 oven and bake for 15 minutes until bubbly and brown. Let cool for 10 minutes, sprinkle with more chopped fresh basil, then slice into squares and serve.

Yum. As I said, a whole bunch of trouble and many dishes to wash, but for a special dinner, it was worth it!

Homecoming Rhythms

My semi-alert husband has only been home for 36 hours, but he's started a list. It is so nice to have someone around here who sees things that need to be done that I don't even notice or have no motivation to do myself. He has begun whacking down the overgrowth in the yard, makes me laugh out loud with his stories, and eats my meals with enthusiastic appreciation.

We are settling into our comfortable married life again. I forget so many things about life with this man when he's gone! Yes, the History Channel is now the default background noise, complete with Wagner and Beethoven musical scores and the sound of WWI airplane dogfights. He turns switches off that I usually leave on and leaves lights on that I go around and flip back off. Three squares must be prepared on a shipboard schedule. I have to remember to close the bathroom door. He stays up late and I get up early.

I now wake up with thoughts of meal planning (I think this is how I gained so much weight last spring). Today I will harvest my eggplants and make a vegetarian dinner tonight. Eggplant is one of the few meatless meals Bill enjoys. The fact that I grew them myself delights me.

Tomatoes and peppers will also be featured in the near future:

Today we will work on unclogging the dog hair from the washing machine outlet hose and assembling the new barbeque--leaving plenty of time for viewing Hitler's Favorite Recipes and the twenty-thousandth Red Baron biography on the History Channel.

Today's the day

Great news from Illinois! Bill's dad's CT scan yesterday showed that his cancer is in temporary remission. The chemo has worked for the time being, he's well enough to travel, and he gets a break from the medical maw for awhile.

And that means my husband can come home to me at last. He's driving today, and should be here around sunset. My solitary hermit existence is over and I get to be a wifely wife again.

Usually, I revel in my "alone time" when he goes to sea, but this time, it seems I've missed that man every day that he's been gone. I'm not sure what changed, but I'm as giddy as a girl anticipating her first date this morning.