The story thus far...

New Year's Eve

2011-12-31T18:06:00.000-04:00

I've been home for a week, nursing a wretched cold/flu/crud. I missed the "Don't Make Us Count It" Sale at the shop last week (my guess is that Heleen is going to make me count all the inventory in payment for her having to work every day, while I snuffled and slept through the whole week). We had our best month ever in sales in December, increasing more than 50% over November, which was our previous best month ever by 33% over October. I miss the shop when I can't be there. But Heleen said to stay away, as we didn't need Pam-germs all over the yarn.

So here it is the end of the week, end of the month and end of the year 2011. I wish I could think of something profound to say, but it seems as though each year I just hope the world will regain its sanity and that the following year will be "better." I've been thinking this for a few years now, which tells me that things are getting worse, year by year, not better. There are things to be grateful for of course, but in the darkness of the Winter Solstice, tissue-clapped-to-my-face, and head stuffed with illness, it is hard to remember what those blessings are?

We're relatively (barring the latest punkiness), healthy and continue to be most happy with each other and our life together. Our children are healthy, though not necessarily happy, which is always a source of long-distance concern. Juli's visit did us all some good, I think, though her life is not getting any easier yet. Hopefully, we helped her regain some balance and grounding in familial love, while she continues to deal with her losses. We don't hear from Alex much. We hope that no news is good news.

January is shaping up into a month of comings and goings for Bill and me. Next week, we will go up to Illinois for the funeral/interrment of his parents' ashes at Camp Butler in Springfield on the 6th (pausing first in Jacksonville to pick up the last of his father's belongings left in storage). Then Bill goes to Florida on the 8th for a two-week course in firefighting, first aid, and other shipboard certifications, and to Virginia on the 23rd for a week for Maersk training. I leave on the 27th for Florida, where Jeannie and I will debark on a week-long cruise in the Caribbean.

I have never been on a cruise. Bill jokes that for him to go on a cruise, they have to pay him, so I am taking the opportunity to check it out and reward myself for a year's hard work in the amiable company of girlfriend/cousin Jean. We should have a wonderful time, frolicking and resting!

Bill Gets His First Deer, New Dog & Where did November Go?

2011-11-30T08:53:00.000-04:00

It's been a crazy, crazy 6 weeks since the last blog!

The shop has been non-stop busy since our big splash on Heritage Days. Droves of new customers, back-to-back knitting and crocheting lessons.

On October 29th, I drove to Marietta, GA to pick up a new Malinois, a one-year old female named Etta. She and Ozzie have become fast friends.

Bill flew to Illinois from Japan on Nov. 13, cleared up some business with the lawyer about his father's estate, and drove one of the cars home to TN on the 16th. Hunting season had already begun, so we know where Bill spent his time each day!

On Sunday, after spending all day in the woods, a dejected Bill came home protesting "I've been doing this for 20 years, and the deer always WIN!" On Monday, Bill came home very late after darkness fell, accompanied by his new, somewhat lamented friend:

So, hunting season is over for Bill, now he's hard at work on the Honey-Do list. Juli flew to Los Angeles yesterday to spend a week with Gran. Next Tuesday, she will arrive in Tri-Cities, to vay-cay with the folks. We're looking forward to being with her after her Annus Horribilus.

I think it's safe to say that venison will be on the menu.

Whew. Here it is, the last day of November. Hard to remember where the time went.

Non-stop FUN!

2011-10-16T09:32:00.000-03:00

Yesterday was crazy-busy. Jeannie and I set up a table outside the shop and she played the knitting-barker, waving people in. We made many new friends, signed a ton of people up for classes and the newsletter, and met so many who said "I didn't know you were here!" So Heritage Days has been a great success for the shop.

Up on the square, Heleen held court with some of our customers, selling hats, scarves and shawls, and teaching people to knit, right there on the spot.

At about 3, Jeannie and I made a dash across town to see Herman Cain. We got an awesome parking spot (a feat in itself), and waited for an hour, but his bus was running late, I'd promised MaryAnn that I'd be back so she could go have dinner with her visiting family, so we left. On our way home at 6, we saw the big campaign bus parked, so I have no idea when he finally arrived. Being the last stop on his Tennessee tour is like being the last flight out of Atlanta--you're going to be late. There was a respectably large crowd (maybe 600 people), and one lone sign in the back proclaiming "Obama/Biden 2012." No one bothered him, but several around us tisked-tisked as if feeling sorry for the poor deluded fool. Perhaps therapy would help?

We came home exhausted from our busy day, warmed up some lasagne, drank a lot of red wine, played with Ozzie and fell asleep by 9:30. What wimps.

Today, a more relaxed version of Heritage Days plays out, starting at noon. Whereas yesterday was about parades and contests, line dancing and cloggers in the streets, today will be a tamer version, with fewer crowds, but those willing to linger and shop leisurely. I always like Sunday better at Heritage Days.

We've been blessed with fabulous fall weather this weekend--warm sun, cool breezes and cloudless skies. Perfect to get everyone in the mood for fall.

Heritage Days a-comin'

2011-10-10T08:24:00.000-03:00

Heritage Days was the first Rogersville event we attended, even before we moved here. They close off the downtown streets, vendors set up tents, musicians play non-stop, food trailers crank out the BBQ, fried Twinkies, curly fries, fried okra, and fried pickles (see a trend here)? The smells waft, the people smile. The library holds a massive book sale, the farmers bring their apples and alpacas, kids buy dangerous, hand-made toys, demonstrators show off historic crafts.
And this year, to top it off, Presidential candidate Herman Cain is coming for a stump-speech.

I can't wait. I love it all. Small town festival at its finest.

This year, Sunny Side Yarns will be demonstrating knitting and crocheting on the square, our shop will be open late Friday night through all-day Sunday, and we're cranking out shawls, hats, scarves--anything we can think of to bring in the business and make that register ring.

Now all we have to do is be ready to rock!

Autumn Arrives

2011-10-02T08:31:00.000-03:00

My summer is gone. The new furnace is cranking out heat instead of A/C, with no break in between. (but it's really quiet, compared to the old one!) The crock pot is plugged in, I'm wearing a bathrobe and slippers, and thinking about chili, stew and soup. Leaves are clogging the gutters and cluttering the deck. The dog is scratching with seasonal allergies.

My nice clean basement is full of stuff again. My house is a mess of unpacked bags, laundry and dishes. Back to normal, in other words.

I wait for the weather to cool off so I can "do" things, and when it happens, I sit curled up on the couch watching "Chopped" reruns or take naps cuddled under a fuzzy blanket.

Donald "Bud" Plemitscher 1931 -2001

2011-09-29T09:14:00.001-03:00

I got the phone call as I was driving into Indianapolis traffic on Tuesday morning. Bud's nurse said that he was "actively dying," and would probably pass within the hour. He died at 9:46 AM CDT, as I was exiting for the airport.

I had said my goodbye the night before. In his darkened room, as he lay dozing, I whispered to him that I was leaving in the morning; that I would take care of Bill and Carolyn; that it was okay for him to lay down his burden, and there was nothing to worry about.

I am glad he went peacefully, and without the gruesomeness of an artery blowout. Amy said that he went to sleep without regaining full consciousness.

Bill and Carolyn are handling it well, having expected this for a long time. Bill wrote me a sweet note, saying that who could have imagined that the California girl his father met in Maxie's trailer park in Broussard, Louisiana 30 years ago, would be his last visitor as he lay dying.

Here is the obituary I wrote for my father-in-law:

Donald "Bud" Plemitscher
1931-2011

Born in Springfield, IL, the third of four children of George Sr. and Frieda (Kluge) Plemitscher. Served with the First Marine Division in the Korean War, earning 3 battle stars. Upon discharge from the U.S. Marine Corps, he married Elsie Anne Valentine of Greenfield, IL in 1954. They were married for 55 years, until Anne's death in 2009.

Bud worked as an auto mechanic at several dealerships in Greenfield and Jacksonville; at Carnation in the maintenance department; freelance welding and refrigeration work in Central IL; and as a Journeyman Electrician in California, Texas, Florida and Louisiana. Bud and Anne then ran My Place (a food concession trailer) at Illinois fairs and festivals in their "retirement."

Bud survived throat cancer in 1987. People who met him since then will remember that he spoke with a prosthetic larnyx. His cancer returned in 2009, but he continued to enjoy life--playing music, spending time with family and friends, and riding his motor scooter around Jacksonville.

An accomplished musician, Mr. Plemitscher played electric bass and guitar, banjo, and especially accordions, many of which he electrified. He attended Grace Methodist church, was a member of both the VFW and American Legion, and served on many funeral details for fellow veterans.

He is survived by a brother, Robert (Nadine) of Long Beach, CA; a sister, Louise, of Florrissant, MO; his children, Carolyn (Scott Neilson) of Arvada, CO and William (Pamela Sink) of Rogersville, TN; his 3 grandchildren, Juliana and Alex Plemitscher, both of Seattle, WA, and Claire Neilson of Arvada, CO. His oldest brother George Jr, predeceased him.

Donald and Anne's ashes will be interred together at Camp Butler National Cemetery, and a graveside service is planned for a future date.

Rest in peace, Dad. You fought long and hard, and now you are with your beloved Anne.

Now is the hour of our discontent

2011-09-24T20:36:00.000-03:00

The furniture is gone, except for 2 mattresses on the floor of each room to sleep on. The boxes and bins and bundles are all staged in a rough layout for the truck bed. I've started to stash small items under the seats and in the door pockets of the truck.

The laptop is sitting on top of a box--I am seated on a pillow in front of it. We eat with paper plates on our laps. I look at every remaining item with an eye to whether it will fit into the plan--or go out to the trash.

I've started gathering cleaning supplies and Kerne has been sweeping and vacuuming. We're eating leftover chicken, leftover pizza, leftover tacos, leftover broccoli. Today, after hauling furniture into the truck, furniture out to the curb (FREE!!), and furniture out to the storage shed at Gail's farm, we splurged and went for celebratory ice cream cones at Dairy Queen, then came home and collapsed into afternoon naps.

Tomorrow, we load the truck!

Light at the end of the tunnel--or is that a train?

2011-09-20T21:25:00.000-03:00

I'm starting to see an end to this house-shoveling nonsense. We are reaching the tipping point of living here versus going to a hotel. Complicating matters is the "Fall Festival and Steam Show," in town this weekend, clogging the motels. But I did manage to get a room for our last night here, Monday, September 26.

Tomorrow, Kerne and I will run some errands, do our laundry (we're at critical mass, the time to either hit the laundromat or start turning our respective underwear inside-out), drop off boxes of charitable goods to charities, go to the post office and send boxes of stuff into the hinterlands to far-flung relatives.

We're selling furniture at the rate of about two pieces per day now, and only a few things are left. We need to buy a tarp, and rope and other supplies, and figure out a way to get the scooter up into the truck bed. Then it's just a matter of wedging in the rest of the boxes and furniture that are going to TN. Oh, and the other 4 accordions we found. (We're up to a total of 18 now).

We've been staging everything in the laundry room, which is roughly the size of my truck bed. I just hope it all fits.

Not too long now, and Oz and I can go home to our mountain.

If you write it, they will come...

2011-09-19T05:35:00.000-03:00

My email to the extended family about Bud's "anytime-now" prognosis has prompted reaction. I am so glad my sister-in-law Carolyn flew in yesterday. She and I immediately went over to see Dad, who was absolutely thrilled to see her.

Bud's sister-in-law Nadine called. The health of Bud's siblings prevents any of them from seeing their brother. Bob and Nadine live in California and Louise lives in St. Louis. Apparently, Louise "wants her music back," but I have not been able to help her with that--I never found it in all the paper in this house. Even if I had, she has no way to come and get it, and I'm not going back to St. Louis again on this trip.

Today, we are taking Bud's storage stuff out to Gail's, along with his little Focus. Carolyn will drive me back to town in her rental car. Denise is going to teach me how she orders Bud's Ensure from the VA, so I can arrange for them to start sending it to him at the nursing home. I need to check on the status of his application to Quincy Veterans' Home. I need to touch base with Vanessa for what the homeless shelter needs and when they will pick that up.

We made about $400 at the impromptu yard sale on Saturday. The big stuff is still here, and I have listed the remaining major pieces on Craigslist. Someone is coming to look at an amp today.

I have to call Amy the Hospice nurse today to arrange her visit tomorrow in the morning, so she can talk to Carolyn. Carolyn is leaving around 10 am to go back to Denver. I need to get to the bank today too. Bob and Shelley from Indianapolis will be coming on Tuesday afternoon.

Busy, Busy. But I can finally see that there is going to be an end to this project, probably at the end of this week.

My life in Jacksonville, IL -- 30 years later

2011-09-17T05:41:00.001-03:00

I am assailed by memory in this town. Everytime I turn around or drive down a street, I think of something in the past. I first came here in 1981, a full 30 years ago, at the end of a long motorcycle trip, and at the beginning of a relationship that would result in marriage, children, and a whole lifetime of memories.

And here I am again, adding on more memories for the future. I am a witness to my father-in-law's final journey, the last step of an 80-year life. Bud and I have always had a "prickly" relationship. His lifestyle and attitudes are so antithetical to what I believe, it's not been easy to forge a friendship with him. But I am here, the adult in the room, so I will get the job done with a clear conscience as my husband's proxy.

Yesterday, the Hospice nurse told me that we are very close to the end. She now knows the "how" of his dying, though not the "when." She is seeing visible signs of arterial degradation. With the cancer in his neck and jaw growing wildly, the inevitible end will come when the carotid arteries break down and rupture. He will bleed out rapidly and expire within 1-2 minutes. The nurse has begun preparing the entire staff with a plan for when this happens. As of last night, he is being given a mild tranquilizer morning and evening. When the rupture occurs, he will quickly get an injection of Versed (a fast-acting sedative), and go to sleep. There will be no pain or panic as he bleeds out.

This is really tough stuff.

In the meantime, there is the accumulation of a lifetime to deal with. Bud moved to this apartment last year. 380 square feet doesn't seem like it would hold much in terms of cubic storage space, but I can tell you that it holds about 100 garbage bags worth of paper. I have come across Christmas cards from the 1960s to the present. Birthday cards, Mother's and Father's Day cards, get-well cards, bank statements for the last 30 years, magazines, news clippings, letters and postcards, and about 2,000 solicitations for charitable donations. Thankfully, Bud didn't respond to any of these. Unhappily, he never threw any of them away. Just when I think I've reached the end of the paper, I find another bag, box or barrel chock-full of more. Last night, I found neatly tied plastic bags under the sink, full of bank statements from the 70s, 80s, and 90s.

I'm going to say this once again: Seniors, please don't do this. My new motto is "If in doubt, throw it out!"

Today is Yard Sale Day. I have decided to flaunt the apartment complex rules and have a yard sale anyway. What can they do? Throw me out? Please.

Last night, I sold the washer and dryer. Today, hopefully the rest will go in bits and pieces at pennies on the dollar. Whatever is left will go to the homeless shelter early next week, into storage, or the dump, later in the week. If I sell the sofa today, Ozzie and I will go to a motel. I'm planning on loading up my truck (I love my new truck!) a week from today, and heading home, back to my real life.

There is still the cleaning of the apartment to be done (which will be easier when the stuff is out), and some details to attend to. Bill's relatives are starting to flock into town for their last goodbyes to Bud. Aunt Millie and Cousin Roger are coming today from Alton; Cousins Shelley and Bob from Indiana are coming Monday or Tuesday. People need connection with each other to process. They'll need to be fed. I am the hostess at this impromptu, lengthy wake.

Selfishly, I hope that Bud departs from this life peacefully and soon. He has fought for so long, and if he continues to fight, he only prolongs his pain and suffering. In his dying, he has shown so much courage--more so than in his living, I dare say. He deserves a serene and swift conclusion.

Shopping for Trucks, Back in the Swamp Zone

2011-09-11T05:14:00.000-03:00

I had a nice drive up from Lexington yesterday. I even had time to stop and shop for trucks. At the first dealership, the woman who was helping me was really no help at all. Nothing on the lot fit my needs at the price I wanted to stay under, she hadn't bothered to read my email or do any research or prep for my arrival. Ergo, she really didn't want my business enough.

At the second, I actually drove what I thought I wanted (2011 Suzuki). But then the salesman treated me like an idiot. When I asked about the $2500 cash back, he said they had already accounted for that in their "sale" price (full MSRP minus the cash rebate). Then, he offered me $4,000 less than dealer trade in price for my cars. So let me get this straight--you're charging full price for your car and giving me much less than wholesale for my trades? Is it because I'm a woman, or do you just think I'm stupid? And I really didn't like the truck all that much either.

I took Ozzie out to the Canine Camp. He was not impressed.

When I got to Jacksonville in the early afternoon, I decided I really couldn't fume for the rest of the day. I needed at least one positive experience. I drove a Chevy. It felt like a monster truck and I couldn't really get a handle on where the boundaries of my track were. Then I drove the Dodge Ram--what a difference! It handled like a car, was smooth and easy to drive--sharp and responsive. Even the brakes were acceptable. And an 8 foot bed. But alas, no room for the dog.

I'll keep looking. I went out to the nursing home to see Bud, but he was sleeping. I stopped by the Straders', but they weren't home. On to the apartment, the sad little apartment. I started going through the dresser drawers and the piles of paper.

I found still MORE bags of loose coins. Cash in envelopes, long forgotten. Pictures and scrapbooks and memorabilia went in one box. I overheated the paper shredder with piles of Social Security notices from 2001-2007. I finally collapsed around 10 pm.

Now I'm up and ready to go for coffee. I'm hoping to take Bud out to the park this morning for an outing. Then I will be back, diving into still more paper and the sad remnants of his sad life.

Back to Illinois tomorrow

2011-09-08T07:44:00.000-03:00

There are post-it notes and lists everywhere. Cardboard boxes, rolls of paper, tape and markers. I've done the laundry, packed my bag and checked the fridge for things that might rot in my absence. I'll work today, pack the car tomorrow and head back to Illinois for the big job of clearing out and cleaning up Dad's apartment.

I wrote Dad a long letter, letting him know that I wanted to sell his cars. I wanted to give him a few days to get over his initial "NO!" before I got there on Saturday. This is such a delicate dance between telling him what needs to be done, and letting him have some final semblance of dignity in directing his own future.

I got the first bill for the nursing home yesterday, for 9 days in August and 30 in September. More than $6,000. Stunning.

I think I'm over my initial creepiness of going through his stuff, sorting and discarding. I'm ready to get the job done this time. The apartment needs to be empty by September 30, and I want to go in and whip this thing into shape ASAP.

Then I can come home to my mountain and my knit shop, and get back to MY life.

Truck Soap Opera

2011-08-31T07:17:00.002-03:00

I have been thinking the past month about buying a truck. I hate the mileage. I hate the culture. I hate the bouncy, rough ride. I hate the prices. I hate the thousands of configurations (Regular Cab, Super Cab, Club Cab, Crew Cab, Long Bed, Short Bed, 2x4, 4x4, Sport, etc.) Despite all that, I think the time has come where we need one of our vehicles to be a pickup.

At first, I thought I'd sell the Focus Wagon. It has 118,000 miles on it. Things are going to start going wrong. It's time for new brakes and tires (again!). I got the A/C fixed and the interior and exterior detailed, and researched all the websites for values, to get it ready for sale.

Then, after my trip to IL last week, I decided that after 38,000 miles, I really don't like the Hyundai all that much. I like the Focus' mileage and ride better. The Hyundai is worth more than I paid for it (thanks to the Cash for Clunkers rebate), and its value right now is substantial, but will drop dramatically from now on. The price of trucks being what they are, this is the smarter trade-in. So I got that one detailed yesterday--it looks brand new again.

And--perhaps I can bundle it with two of Dad's cars and come out of the deal without too much cash flowing south to buy said truck.

But what to buy? Compact, mid-size, full-size? Ford, Dodge, GMC, Chevy, Nissan, Suzuki, Toyota? Dodge can tow the most, Ford has the most available parts & service, Nissan and Toyota are overpriced, GMC and Chevy don't interest me for some reason. I like the Suzuki the best, it has the best warranty, but there are few new or used available, and the nearest dealer is in Virginia for warranty service, so what good is that? I'm car shopping again, with all the research angst that implies.

My idea is to drive up to IL with the Hyundai (sheet spread over everything so Ozzie-hair doesn't get in the now-clean carpet), trade it and the two Fords in on a truck, and then drive home with apartment detritus in back. I might even hook up his travel trailer and tow it to TN. I'll bet I could put a ton of stuff in the trailer too--well, not literally a ton, but a bunch.

It's an idea, slowly making itself into a plan.

Now, all I have to do is get the mental picture of Myself-as-Yahoo-in-Truck out of my head.

Loss

2011-08-30T08:24:00.001-03:00

I spent most of last week fretting about my father-in-law, living (and dying) up in Jacksonville, IL. The hospice care team determined he could no longer live at home without 24-hour care, and had him all set to go to a local nursing home--then he heard the price and balked. There were many frantic emails and phone calls, and both Bill and I sent him emails trying to convince him that the nursing home at $150/day was better than paying someone $12/hour to be with him 24/7 ($288). His only other option was Jefferson Barracks Palliative Care down in St. Louis, which was free, but far away from any friends or his hospice team.

So, I boarded the dog, put myself in the car, and drove 600 miles. I was the tough cookie--I was the one who "incarcerated" him. I was the one to tell him that he was not going back to the apartment. I was the one who told him I was taking his checkbook, rummaging through his apartment and his belongings, selling his cars, taking away the last vestiges of his freedom.

He was pretty pissed, to say the least.

Friday, I took my Power of Attorney to the bank, got signed on all his accounts; met with the hospice nurse and social worker; called the TV and Lifeline people and got those services cancelled, packed up the TV receiver and returned the Lifeline ("help, I've fallen and can't get up) to the hospital; cleaned out his kitchen cabinets and took the food to Grace Methodist Church; met with the nursing home administrator (who went to high school with Bill) and arranged for us to take over the billing. I inventoried everything in his apartment and sent lists to Bill and Carolyn via email; cleaned out the refrigerator; started sorting through papers.

During my cleaning phase, I started finding $20 bills tucked in boxes of grits, taped to the underside of dresser drawers, stuck in the baseboards in the back of closets--things slowed down. The fact that he stashed money in odd places now meant I had to go through EVERYTHING. Every canister of oatmeal, every cereal box, every piece of junk mail in an envelope. Then I found the laundry basket in the closet filled with THOUSANDS of coins. I rolled coinage, to the tune of almost $400. I found a pie crust with a sell-by date of January, 1989. Really. (By the way, it looked fine. I would suggest that no one ever eat a pre-made graham cracker crust ever again).

Note to seniors: Do NOT do this, please.

I loaded my Hyundai (now known as the MusicMobile) with 14 accordions, 2 guitars, 1 banjo, 1 violin, all the coins, unpaid bills, keys to all the vehicles (he has 5), checkbook, signature stamp, paper goods, gifts we gave him that he never used, and some tools.

All the while, I was going to the nursing home and trying to cheer up Dad. I kept thinking how awful I'd feel, if this were being "done" to me. I felt downright disrespectful, tearing through his home and possessions. He has been through so much already. His tumor has turned his face into Elephant Man proportions. He cannot speak, because the bandages to absorb the drainage cover his neck--he can no longer use his artificial larnyx. His hands and feet are numb from the chemo. His wife is gone; she died in 2009. He is almost deaf. And now, the cancer is in his brain. He gets confused.

So much of aging (and dying) is about loss. Loss of mental and physical capabilities. Loss of loved ones. Loss of control over your own destiny and wishes. I'd be pissed too.

My September will be about vacating his apartment, packing away things he might need if he lasts through the fall and winter, selling all the sad junk in his apartment. There is very little to show for a lifetime in terms of material valuables. The musical instruments are his only legacy worth much at all. The rest is mostly sheets and towels that are 30 years old, boxes of photos that his decendents will wonder about (because they are not labelled), cheap particle board furniture, sagging chairs and sofas, and ugly lighting fixtures.

It is all so very sad.

Where'd my bed go?

2011-08-22T08:14:00.000-03:00

Sometime in the wee dark hours filled with lightning, thunder and rain, Ozzie transformed himself six sizes smaller, wiggled under the barricades I had fashioned, squeezed himself into the 9" space behind the headboard and popped the air hose to the bed.

In the midst of a blessedly deep sleep, I dreamt that I was sinking, sinking...

I feel for his terror. I am sympathetic while he is shaking uncontrollably and drooling with anxiety. But when he messes with my sleep, I have no mercy. I dragged him out of his hidey-hole (accompanied by much whimpering and yelping), shoved him out of the bedroom and slammed the door.

Perched on the other side of the bed (the cavernous pit looming below and to the left), I went back to sleep.

Now I have to figure out how to re-attach the hose. If Ozzie were Lassie, I could just get him to crawl under there again and do it for me. Instead, I have to disassemble the frame and do it myself.

Not a great way to start the day...

Ahhhhh...

2011-08-01T22:28:00.000-03:00

For the first time in a week, my house is less than 85 degrees. Relief. I had forgotten just how marvelous cool, DRY air can be. And quiet too, without the six fans blowing a steam-bath-like fog around.

Just in time for another round of house guests. Ray and Elaine are coming back from VT, and Joe from NJ is coming too. There will be much cooking, laughing, and yes, probably drinking into the wee hours. I haven't seen Joe since before my surgery in 2007. And it's always nice to be with R & E.

This should be a fun week at work too--a few beginning classes, some projects to design and knit in preparation for the following week's classes. I love my job.

I love my life.

I REALLY love air conditioning.

Day 6 - Still melting

2011-07-31T08:34:00.002-03:00

Yesterday in Hats class, new friend Bonnie told me about her HVAC contractor after blanching at the price quoted for a new Heating & A/C unit. I called said contractor and gave him the salient details of what I had learned from my crash course on heat pumps from the internet: 2.5 ton, 13 SEER (Seasonal Energy Efficiency Rating), 9 HSPF (Heating Seasonal Performance Factor) and he quoted me a rough price of $4,000 instead of $5,000. Awesome.

He is coming today to look things over. In the Tennessee way of having to have a social conversation as part of any business conversation, we found out that we are mutual friends of Joe K., who did a fantastic job on the bathroom renovation.

This means of course, that all those boxes in the basement must be moved, in order to get to the furnace. Also, a hole will have to be cut in the wall that was built after the furnace was installed in 1996--the wall that has the 24" doorway that no old or new furnace can pass through. So, I have my work for the day--the day off that I was going to spend sweating, watching the NCIS marathon and knitting flowers for tomorrow's class.

Sigh.

At least I'm blogging! Two days in a row. This may be a trend.

Crazy, crazy life as we know it...

2011-07-30T08:37:00.004-03:00

Here it is, the end of July. I guess it's time for the ubiquitous recap of the reasons for not blogging since May:

Planted a major garden in pots on the porch and in the front beds. Zucchini, watermelon, beans, tomatoes, peppers, herbs, eggplant, lettuce, sweet potatoes and asparagus.

Mom came to visit in June. It was awesome to spend time with her. I drove to Charlotte, NC to pick her up at Cousin Mary's house, stopping first at Ikea to load up more shelving units for the store.

Revamped the store layout. Much hammering, assembling, lifting, pushing and shoving. We like it much better, have more space for playing and displaying.

Cousin Jean came to visit and we made pickled beets. Yum.

Harry never came back. Very sad. I liked the little guy and was getting used to him. It was like having a kid in college who only came home to do laundry. Sigh. Angst.

Bill repaired the rotting timbers in the bridge over the creek, sawing out planks from a fallen oak with a chain saw. Required moral support and meals. Also, much listening to his ravings on Fast & Furious debacle. Took a trip up to RURAL (and I mean really RURAL) Virginia and got lost, which was the objective. Went fishing at sunset. Had a birthday party for B. Spent much time laughing and enjoying our time together.

Record heat & humidity. Enervating.

Knitting samples every night, teaching classes every day, going to work 5-6 days a week

Internet satellite quit, requiring new installation with new company.

Met with the Conservation Resource agency about making our land into more habitat for native species.

Shopped for tractors.

Juli's husband, Kerne, became seriously mentally ill, requiring hospitalization in the psych ward. Refused further treatment. Got crazier. Juli moved out for her own safety and filed for legal separation after he spent all their money. Ongoing situation, requiring much parental worry and heartache.

Bill shipped out, July 22.

Ray & Elaine came to visit, then left for Vermont. They'll be back August 3.

Jean came for an overnight visit.

Met with the SBA rep and talked about increasing business, marketing options and cash flow.

Air conditioning quit 5 days ago, during a massive heat wave (upper 90s). Requires either a gigantic repair effort ($2000) or a massive new system ($5000), and even if we decide on which way to go, can't be scheduled until sometime next week.

Went to Morristown Walmart yesterday and bought two little window A/C units (one for bedroom, one for kitchen) to get the house temp down into the lower 80s.

Which brings us up to date. Today, I have a Hats Class at 10:30, and a partners' meeting at 2. Then home to my hot house for more of the same.

Praying for rain and cooler temps.

Never Wake a Sleeping Baby

2011-05-28T09:13:00.004-03:00

Well, I see that another month has just flown by, undocumented by my feeble attempts at blogging. I've been busy.

There's the yarn shop--doing extremely well in our first two months of business, hooray!--and there's Bill, (who needs very little maintenance, but still...), the house, the garden, the laundry (never-ending), and the 1 1/2 dogs:

I know it looks like they don't require my attention, but this is the "after" picture. After the frisbee, after the walks, after the feeding, watering, medicating, playing and cuddling. They are exhausted...and exhausting.

I spend almost every day at the shop--winding yarn, waiting on customers, working up calendars, ordering, and teaching Beginners' classes. I am finding the teaching is the most rewarding part for me. I love being able to share my passion for knitting with newbies, watching them take their first baby steps, picking up new skills and making stuff with their hands. Their enthusiasm ("Look, I made my first hat!") makes it all worthwhile.

When I come home, there are plants to be planted and watered (although the daily thundershowers have been helpful there), dinner to cook, and when I finally sit down, there are samples to knit. For every class I dream up, I have to make sure the pattern works and give everyone a tangible project to get excited about. I have made about eleventy-billion hats in the last month, just for a 4-session class. It's also important to use the yarn that we sell in the shop, for those who need step-by-step direction on a project, and to market our inventory.

It is very much like the cooking classes I used to teach in New York. Some people require a detailed recipe. These people never deviate from instructions, abandon the project if one ingredient is missing. Others are seat-of-the-pants cooks, almost pathologically incapable of following a recipe without changing one or two ingredients or methods. Knitters seem to be the same, either slavishly following a pattern down to the exact yarn, or leaning toward the opposite, casting on "whatever" number of stitches, or choosing to try any yarn that catches their gaze and trying to make it fit into the pattern.

Outside on the porch, I've planted tomatoes, peppers, strawberries, eggplant, rosemary, thyme, sage, cilantro, basil, parsley, cucumbers, lettuce and some asparagus seedlings, destined for a future asparagus bed. In the garden proper, I've got greenbeans, zucchini, yellow squash, watermelon, more cukes, more peppers and sweet potatoes. Bill has been fencing off the garden areas, to protect from critters. Ozzie seems to be the most destructive critter of them all--have you ever seen a dog rush down to the garden to chow down on produce? Ours does. Sigh. No wonder he has such bad gas!

Until next month...

It's Winter Again; No Wait, It's Summer!

2011-04-11T07:16:00.001-03:00

Saturday afternoon and early evening, the skies opened up and spit hail the size of marbles. Chaz reported one at his house as big as a tangerine, and there were reports in town of broken skylights and cracked windshields. It was a doozy of a storm, with plenty of gale-force winds to blow the patio furniture over. Yesterday, it was in the high 80s--sultry, humid and hot. I had to break down and turn on the A/C to cool the house down at midnight so I could get some sleep. It was 82 in the house, and with my hot flashes, that was unacceptable. Harry showed up at eleven, looking dog-tired. He could barely put one big fat foot in front of the other, and he slogged in, curled up on the couch, and went right to sleep. He spent the night with us, and was gone, presumably back to his "other" house, before breakfast. What a funny little bassett-beagle! I am spending most of my time at the shop. Why did I think that things would get calmer, once the shop opened? It seems like there is more work to do now than can fit in a day! Today I have classes to teach, and I want to get started on setting up online sales this week. We have promos to plan and ideas to bring to fruition. So we're busier than ever.

We're Famous!

2011-04-07T07:24:00.001-03:00

Here are the Sunny Side Girls in all our glory on Opening Day, April 1, 2011...

And here's the text of the article...

What fun we are having! Everyone says the shop looks and feels GREAT! All that painting and decorating paid off! When I go to work, it's almost as good as staying home!

Almost There...

2011-03-26T08:40:00.001-03:00

Heleen and I managed to wrestle her boyfriend's Monster Truck (diesel, 4-wheel drive, stick shift) down to Atlanta and back--leaving at 5:30 am and getting back to town around 9 pm. In between, we walked about 20 miles through IKEA, loaded 4 push-pallets with 14 boxes of shelving units (about 67 pounds per box), 15 lighting fixtures and bulbs, display hooks, racks, miscellaneous items like toilet brushes, watering can, S-hooks, and what has become known as "the big-ass clock."

Heleen fell in love with the largest clock on the planet--about 20" in diameter, analog, with numbers about 6" high. I told her it belonged in a lecture hall seating about 4oo people (where every cabbage-head student could watch it from 200 yards away), and I'd be waiting for the bell to ring everytime I looked at it. She was not deterred. She wanted that clock!

I was completely blown away by the lighting department. You have to understand that while I love having light, I despise most lighting fixtures. They are ALL ugly. They cost too much. IKEA's selection was a revelation. I loved almost every one I saw, (and the incredibly low prices!) and the hard part was deciding just how high we wanted our electric bill to go. We bought pole lamps, clamp-on spotlights, table lamps, giant suspended paper-shaded lanterns, and one surprise stunner we are saving for MaryAnn on opening day--it's about the size of the moon, and is covered in paper flowers. (Well, MaryAnn said I needed to get in touch with my whimsical side). It's my justification. Heleen and I are going to put it together this weekend, while M is out of town, attending the Artist-Formerly-Known-As-Prince concert in Greensboro, NC.

And then, there's the YARN! Boxes and boxes of color and texture. We ooh and ahh over every discovery. Then we buckle down and get it listed into the POS computer (that's "Point of Sale" for those of you who thought I was swearing).

It took two days to assemble all the gorgeous white cubicle shelving. Now, we're shoving the finished units around, trying to arrange them in a pleasing and organized manner. Heleen is busily sewing our partition fabric "walls," and I am shampooing rugs and furniture. I donated our original couch from the Vallejo house. I have good memories of that sofa--Bill slept on it with his legs hanging over the sides, we'd prop infant Alex up in the corner so Juli could play with her baby brother)--our first furniture purchase 27 years ago. It belongs in the yarn shop instead of the basement for another 27 years!

One week to go. Whatever will be, will be...

A Good Day

2011-03-20T21:52:00.001-03:00

Today was super Sunday. I had planned to go to the shop to work (still sorting, labeling and hanging thousands of knitting needles), but then Bill got up and made me waffles and bacon. Yum! Perhaps I'd just putter about at home for a change?

I noodled around on the computer while drinking coffee, made new wills and set up a trust for Bill and myself, then took a shower, baked biscotti (folding laundry while waiting for the timer), and watched TV. I dipped the biscotti in chocolate (white & dark), put away my clean clothes, sorted my seeds, transplanted the asparagus and tomato seedlings outdoors, seeded chives and cilantro in pots, cleaned the AeroGrow and planted salad greens, sat in the sunshine and planted a seedling tray of cucumbers, eggplant, miniature peppers (the ones they sell for $4.00 a box in the grocery), tiny tomatoes and strawberries, (designed for hanging baskets), filled up 3 window boxes with dirt for lettuce, and put out my birdfeeder that Jean gave me for my birthday. I cleaned off the dining room table and spray-painted a display rack for the store. I made Bill some nachos and did all the mountains of dishes I had created with my morning adventures. Then I made a fresh mango salsa, cooked some brown jasmine rice in orange juice and added some tart dried cherries, sauted some chicken and opened a bottle of champagne. (I needed it for the chicken, and I had to make sure it was tasty, so I tested it by having a glass or two while I was cooking).

Sometimes, I swoon when tasting my own cooking. This was such a moment.

I ate two helpings, had another glass of champagne, and set the pots to soak in the sink.

I didn't worry about anything.

I did all these chores and still felt totally relaxed.

It is good to have a day "off."

Home - On the Road - Home

2011-03-17T10:18:00.000-03:00

Bill came home, dragging a cold from his 30-hours in the clutches of the airlines. On Sunday, I deemed him well enough for a quick trip up to Illinois to see how his father was doing. We threw our stuff and the dog in the car, made some ham sandwiches, and hit the road.

We arrived in Illinois around 8 pm, and marvelled at just how COLD the change in latitude made life difficult. It is still winter up there. Bill's dad is terribly thin now, unable to eat any solid food, living on three cans of Ensure per day, and very difficult to understand, as his jaw tumor has distorted his facial features to the point where he cannot enunciate his words coherently. It has to be very frustrating to him, as it is very painful for him to speak -- to go to that effort and not be understood is maddening.

Bill was able to do one nice thing for his father -- get his motor scooter out of winter storage and ride it back to the apartment, so that when warm weather finally comes, he'll be able to go out and ride it. In order to do this, Bill dressed in about 3 layers of clothing and stuck his dad's car floor mats under his shirt for a windbreak. Dad can no longer play the accordion, so he now has an electronic keyboard for entertainment. That and his motor scooter are about the only things he can enjoy in his life right now. Surprisingly, he is cheerful and indefatigable through all of this.

We celebrated my birthday by driving towards home on a gloomy, rainy day. We stopped in Evansville, IN to see LST 325, one of the last surviving LSTs from WWII. We happily scrambled up and down ladders, stepped through watertight doors and explored the ship. Amazingly, 170 of these ships were built in Evansville during the war, but they were not meant to last -- the outer hull is only 3/8" thick steel, and the decks that held 22 Sherman tanks are only 1/4" thick. The flat hull, perfect for running equipment up on beaches, made for what must have been a terrifying rolling voyage across the ocean. This particular ship was found in Greece, and sailed back by U.S. veterans across the Atlantic, before putting into the Mobile, AL shipyard for refurbishing. Amazing!

We then tooled down the road to Cousin Jean's, and went to Holly Hill Inn for dinner. It was "Tapas Tuesday," at the restaurant, so we dined on plates of mussels, pate, olives, almonds, stuffed eggs, croquettes, a divine pot roast, garlic potatoes, all accompanied by various wines. The winemaker stopped by our table to chat, and we found out she had gone to California Maritime Academy for a year (about 10 years after Bill attended) before transferring to UC Davis to become a winemaker. The pastry chef whipped up an impromptu dessert of lemon mousse on sponge cake, topped with a raspberry coulis. Wow. A great birthday dinner!

We arrived home yesterday, and after unloading the car, the three of us napped on the couch for the rest of the afternoon. I had about 47 birthday emails, which cheered me to no end.

Now it's time to get back to work. Back to the shop today to finish up some painting and make more decisions. Time is getting very short now, and the partners are all in a low-grade panic. Me? I'm confident we'll get done what we need to get done, and all will be well. I just want to open the doors and get started!

Guess Who's Coming to Breakfast

2011-03-07T09:40:00.000-04:00

...and to what do my wandering eyes appear? Yes, it's long-lost Harry, sitting calmly on the porch, waiting for breakfast! He seemed genuinely happy to see us, racing around the house, stealing Ozzie's toys and gobbling down his kibble.

Then he went out, and hasn't come back.

I am feeling a little like a fair-weather friend here. Oh sure, pop in for a visit and then disappear again. Today was the very day I was going to move the crate down to the basement, sure at last that Harry wasn't coming back. Now he's got me on tinderhooks, waiting for his call. Sheesh.

Bill is due in tomorrow night, after a grueling 26 hours of travel from Singapore-Toyko-Atlanta-Tri-Cities. Luckily, he will be coming in just in time for a light dinner and sleep, all the better to get him started on an Eastern Time Zone schedule. I have a list a mile long for work to be done at the shop. I should let him sleep first, though.

What am I to do with these wandering men?

Country Music

2011-03-03T07:13:00.000-04:00

I can always tell when it's time for Bill to come home. I find myself turning off the politics radio and switching over to twangy ballads of heartache and loneliness, toe-tappin' bar songs about strong women and manly men, songs of betrayal, regret, patriotism, arson, double-wide trailers, homesickness, muddy rivers, barbeque, huntin' dogs...well, you get the idea.

Country music covers the whole spectrum of real life, from the humdrum to the profound. Country also has a welcome sense of self-deprecating humor. Hence, the lyrics to "the best country song ever written":

I was drunk the day my mama got out of prison
And I went to pick her up in the rain
But before I could get to the station in my pickup truck
She got run over by a God-derned train...

You just can't beat country music for keeping you company in your yearning times. So, now the radios in both the cars are tuned properly, and I want my husband to come home. While this business is always "hurry up and wait," Bill says that he should be on a flight next week.

The other sure bellweather is that Bill's flight will arrive on the absolutely most inconvenient day and time. Next week is full of appointments and "must do" errands. So I'm guessing Tuesday or Thursday, since those days are already shaping up to be long and tiring.

So, come on home, darlin'.

Oh where, oh where?

2011-02-28T06:11:00.000-04:00

This morning marks the third day that little Harry has not come home. I fear he may be truly gone this time. He went out as usual before breakfast on Friday, but never returned. As sad as I am, I am hoping this means that he finally found his way home to where he belonged in the first place, before he came to visit on January 18.

Ozzie moped around the house for a day, refused to eat and generally sighed a lot. He's over it now.

I spent yesterday at the shop, painting, painting, painting. It is starting to come together in a swirl of light, bright color! While I lost myself in the meditation of brushstokes, MaryAnn and Chaz moved display cases, Hannah and Maggie cleaned and dusted. Today, we are going to try and finalize some of the yarn orders.

Here's the dilemma: dozens of manufacturers, each carrying 30 different yarns in a multitude of fibers and blends, some of which come in 300 different colors. Then there's the budget, the space, the reviews (some yarns pill, bleed, split, smell bad, according to the online reviews), the Spring/Summer season versus Fall/Winter, trying to put together a good mix of weights, gauges, and fibers. Add to that the patterns, the books, the samples that need to be knitted...my brain hurts!

It's all very fun, very exciting. A new venture!

I'm going to the dump...is there anything you want?

2011-02-23T23:03:00.000-04:00

Today was swamp-out-the-garbage day. I had the ton of shredded paper Kellie manufactured from the To Be Shredded Bucket (3 years worth), the five-foot stack of catalogs, magazines, and junk mail that proliferated over the holidays, 3 weeks of kitchen and office and bathroom garbage cans, two giant boxes of flattened cardboard, dirty furnace filters, broken plant pots, 3 dog food bags full of plastic milk jugs for recycling, a broken car window mechanism and a strange collection of foam scraps. I literally had to lean on the rear hatch to stuff it all into the car. It felt like sitting on a bulging suitcase to close it.

When I arrived at the dump and popped the hatch, my detritus spilled out onto the ground, a great lumbering garbage-monster emerging from its den. Our dump has separate dumpsters for paper, plastic, cardboard, metals, construction materials, appliances and just plain old pedestrian trash. So, I traveled the rounds, depositing my various bags and boxes of discards.

But then, what's this? Nice 12-inch ceramic tiles sitting in the construction dumpster? Can I have these? I snagged up about 30 square feet of ceramic tile, it should be good for something around here. Maybe I'll make a mosaic table, or replace the carpet in the entryway with tile, or who knows.

This is why my house is a mess. Even when I go to get rid of stuff, I still come home with more.

Success!

2011-02-17T08:38:00.000-04:00

I had a great shopping experience yesterday--just what we needed for just what I was willing to pay! And it all fit in the car! (With some rope to hold the hatch closed, that is). Lunch with Melanie was fun, and the dogs didn't complain too loudly when I finally got home. Life is good.

I woke up this morning thinking it was Friday (it's not), and wondering if I could get to Kingsport to buy dog food and get an acupuncture appointment before the meeting. Once I had my coffee, I realized I am at the library today. This time dislocation is only going to get worse, I fear.

My plan is to cut my library time down to one day per week when March begins. Bill will be coming home, the shop will be in chaos getting ready to open, and once we do open, I will want to spend most of my week there. With three partners and a six-day week, we can split up the time so that none of us has to be there every day. At first though, we will probably want to.

The sun is shining, the bassett is baying--I've got to get moving on my day.

Scavenger Day

2011-02-16T07:26:00.000-04:00

I'm off to Mo-Town (Morristown) today, hunting for a kitchen sink base cabinet, pegboard display hooks, any furniture that looks like it would fit aesthetically into the knitting lounge area of the shop, and to have lunch with my friend Melanie.

The doggies will not be happy with me being gone for most of the day (again!), but that's the way it goes--it's a dog's life, right? At least they are getting along with each other better. Ozzie licks Harry's face (leading me to ask, "what has Harry gotten into now?"), Harry runs around Ozzie acting goofy and playful. It's now a house with two dogs, for better or worse.

Tomorrow, Spring is supposed to arrive. No, really! The temp is predicted to be in the mid-to-high 60s. I'm ready. I am SO ready.

Other than that, it's just day-to-day stuff. Working, sleeping, knitting, planning, and keeping the dogs at bay. Waiting for Bill. Sorting through my millions of Post-it notes.

Brrrrrrrr...........

2011-02-11T08:32:00.000-04:00

I'm actually COLD. I have spent most of the winter in T-shirts and capris, but it's downright chilly here now. Yesterday, I was snowed in and couldn't get down my driveway to go to work at the library. Luckily, Peggy substituted for me, and today it looks like the sun may get warm enough to melt the ice off the mountain.

My head is spinning from all the details required to get the business going. We've got about six weeks until the opening, and are starting to feel the money pinch as we make up tentative orders of everything we want to carry in the shop. Too many choices! Not enough money!

This weekend, we'll be blanketing the town with our flyers. Next week, we're going to start on painting the bathroom and the following week is our big Kick-off membership meeting. Then the painter and electrician will be coming in to do the big work the last week of February. Then we'll be painting all the display boards, moving the cases, arranging the space, learning the cash register software...well, the details never end. Thankfully, I'm not having any trouble sleeping, though my partners say they are spending their nights tossing and turning.

In the middle of all of this, my hard-working husband is hopefully due off the ship the first week of March. I have really missed him this time, though we talk every morning now, since he's in the shipyard in Singapore). It will be nice to have someone warm to hug when he comes home.

Murphy's Law

2011-02-07T09:00:00.000-04:00

I go to the dentist regularly now. Back in my twenties, I thought I had no money to spend on dentists. I am paying for that decision now, thirty years later.

My dentist has mapped my entire mouth and come up with a plan. My insurance will only pay 50% of two crowns per year. So each year, we pick my two "worst" teeth and work on them. This year, I chose #14 and #15, mostly because they were right next to each other and we could get two done with one dose of local anesthetic. I have temps on them now, and the crowns should be back from the elf who is sculpting them sometime next week.

So of course this weekend I broke #31. There isn't a feeling in the world quite like chomping down on your sandwich, then feeling and hearing a giant CRUNCH that sends the brain two simultaneous messages: "WTF?" and "THAT'S MY TOOTH!"

So now I need a repair, and I've used up my insurance for the year.

Sigh.

Sunny's Blog

2011-02-05T12:27:00.000-04:00

No sooner do I get back into the swing of blogging here again, I have been assigned to write Sunny's Blog on www.sunnysideyarns.com too!

I'm not sure I have the wherewithal to manage TWO blogs, after my experience with Blogger's Block in December and January, but I'm giving it a go for now.

We are very busy with the store--everything from repairing furniture to planning budgets, agonizing over what to order, writing procedure manuals, trying to think of every little contingency and realizing the futility of that process.

I fall into bed with relief and exhaustion, my head filled with lists and to-do's.

Harry's Home

2011-02-03T10:02:00.000-04:00

I let the dogs out for their morning duties yesterday, and Harry never came back. I finally gave up looking for him about midnight. This morning I was trying to get used to the idea that he wouldn't be part of the house anymore, while telling myself that I wasn't really that invested.

About 9 am, there was a scratching at the door, and a sad little floppy-eared dog slunk in. He was cold and hungry, and as soon as I fed him, he climbed wearily up on the futon and went to sleep.

I was surprised that for the 24 hours he was gone, Ozzie seemed quite bereft. He wandered around the house whining and whistling, and wanted to go out more than usual. Now that the bassett is home, Ozzie is content to go back to ignoring him as much as possible.

Dogs. They get into your heart, even when you don't want them to.

Hankering for Spring

2011-02-01T08:33:00.001-04:00

While the rest of the country is hunkering down for the Storm of the Century, I've been dreaming about asparagus. While I'm not quite ready to say that our snows are over here in TN, I'm getting ready just in case Spring is around the corner.

Yesterday, I seeded artichokes, asparagus, tomatoes, peppers, and broccoli in the AeroGrow. Starting seeds is my annual personal act of faith -- the cold will end, the darkness will abate, spring will come, and life will go on. Some years, the garden is abundant; in others, the sun doesn't shine and the tomatoes rot on the vine.

But the surety that water, soil, light and seed will result in a green sprout reaching for the sky is my idea of a miracle.

Procrastination

2011-01-29T16:15:00.000-04:00

There comes a time in every bloggers life (so I'm told), that a week's hiatus, turns into a month of no-blogging, and then turns into several months of slothful guilt. Then the blog dies. Yes, the silence has been deafening. I have excuses, but they are irrelevant. I got busy, but I'm always busy. I'm over my guilt and am pressing forward as if nothing happened.

So, thanks to the messages from around the world, prodding me into re-starting, and even a call from my husband in Singapore wondering if I was ill or worse because there was no blog to read, I have regained my composure and am ready to tackle the keyboard.

First, there is a new family member. He's on super-secret probation, but it looks as though this stray, found on a rainy night in our dark driveway, may be a keeper. Meet Harry:

Harry appears to be a bassett-beagle mix, about a year old, and just as mellow as can be. Ozzie, who is alternately annoyed and tolerant of Harry's presence, is coming around (though there was a big TO-DO this morning over a stuffed lamb toy's ownership).

Ozzie has turned into quite a good dog after our cross-country adventure and exposure to sister-in-law "Kellie-May." Kellie has a way with animals, so we tease her about being a character in The Beverly Hillbillies. Ozzie is off probation and now that I have his food and flatulence issues resolved, he's my pal.

In other news, a trio of women and I are moving ahead with our plans to open a "Yarn Community," starting April 1 (no fooling!). We'll have a yarn shop, consignment sales of locally handmade goods, a lounge for sitting & knitting, instructional classes, charitable causes to knit and crochet for, plus all the fun, risk and agony of being small business owners. We are hard at work to make it all happen by the deadline.

Check out our website at www.sunnysideyarns.com ! We are so excited. Can you tell?

Today, Heleen and I went on a cross-country secondhand furniture tour and came home with 3 chairs, 3 end tables, 2 lamps, a display rack, a nice ironing board and a side table for the bathroom.

Next week we'll be meeting with vendors, constructing displays, contracting for painting and getting ready for our big membership drive on Feb. 21. The days are busy, the nights full of dreams of things we forgot to do or plan for. Luckily, all four of us have different strengths and weaknesses, and are meshing as a partnership quite well.

Bill is in Singapore again, working on the ship in the Sembawang Shipyard, and sleeping in town at the Copthorne Kings Hotel again. He sounds tired, but only has about 5 weeks to go before he can come home and catch up on his rest.

And for now, I'm blogging again. I'll try to regain the momentum and make it a happy habit.

Today is Baking Day!

2010-12-04T08:59:00.000-04:00

Sister-in-law Kellie is coming over today to make candy & cookies with me. I'm planning on Cream Puffs (to be frozen), Chocolate Truffles rolled in festive toppings of nuts, colored sugars or cocoa powder, and chewy Lime Sugar Cookies. We will probably also make some breads to bake in little loaf pans. All this to contribute to our theme of "Homemade Christmas" this year. A minimum of purchased gifts, a lot of DIY goodies.

It seems as though everyone is feeling the pinch this year, and for me, the "joy of the season" is being with, and doing activities, with the family I love. I have no desires for any material goods. I thankfully have all that I need--health for myself, healthy and happy children, a beloved husband who has a job, an active and healthy mom who will have excellent vision again soon (cataract surgery is next week), a treasured brother, sister-in-law, and nieces who are all doing well and who I can have fun with. My bucket is full, and I'm grateful for it.

Hello California!

2010-11-25T06:55:00.000-04:00

Five and a half days of driving, 1 new tire in Gallup, NM, and a very exhausted Ozzy-Dog--we're finally here in time for family Thanksgiving! I forget how doggone big this country is until I actually drive the 2,341 miles door-to-door.

Mom has gotten everything ready for a big feast with family and friends. I am catching up on my sleep. Oz seems to be settling in just fine. Bill is at sea and looking forward to his Thanksgiving meal somewhere out on the briny deep. It's all good.

Sunrise -- 2 days to departure

2010-11-17T06:52:00.000-04:00

It is so beautiful in the early morning hours in the fall. Ozzy starts whining before it is light out, so I get to be a witness to the lovely fall sunlight lightening the skies through the clouds each day. (Of course, this also means that I am falling asleep on the couch each afternoon around 3 to recharge the mental and physical batteries).

Today is PACK DAY.

But I have a moment to savor the peace and quiet of the new day dawning, listening to the forest coming alive around me with the sound of birds, before I jump up and start running around, tackling the list that has grown to a truly monumental length.

Why am I awake at 5 am?

2010-11-12T08:40:00.000-04:00

Things are shaping up. Bill is at sea now, I am slowly working through my list of "To Dos," and even Ozzy is settling down a little bit. So why am I wide awake at 5, thinking of more things to put on the list?

Yesterday, I made hundreds of cookies and scores of chocolate-covered caramels--gifts for my co-workers to give before I leave, lest they think I am getting out of town to avoid them during the holidays. And I rented one of Ray's houses, interviewed the new property manager, and got a line on a tenant for the other house, due to be vacant Dec. 20.

The car is serviced. The house is still a wreck. I am leaving for California a week from today.

All I have left to do is:

Plant 9 trees in the new orchard
Empty the water barrels so they don't freeze
Shut down the house systems
Laundry
Go to the dump (several times)
Pick up my new glasses
Return the plumbing parts to Henard's
Pay bills
Remember what to pack
Pack (for what kind of weather, I wonder?)
Gather Dog stuff
Revise phone list
Don't forget Juli's jam!
Figure out what knitting to take
Christmas gifts!
Rental keys
Work
Forward mail

Not such a bad, long list. So why am I awake at 5 am?

Ack! The Frantic-ness Continues

2010-11-03T08:18:00.000-03:00

I got an email from Bill in Illinois last night while I was at work. The powers that be want him on a plane to Japan on Friday.

He had planned on driving home today and getting his shipboard drug test tomorrow morning in Johnson City. (Nothing quite so inconvenient as driving 100 miles to pee in a cup for the Dept. of Transportation). Then a last weekend at home.

Now don't go all misty-eyed on me. The weekend at home would most likely have been Bill sitting in the woods for the opening of muzzleloading deer season, not a romantic dinner for two. But that's all gone anyway, whatever activities WERE planned. Instead, we'll be going to the airport and saying goodbye again.

Rats.

A Brief October Recap

2010-11-02T08:10:00.001-03:00

The wedding was fabulous, the car trip was fun, the visiting on the road with Ron & Kendra, Gary & Anita, Mark & Jo was so wonderful! Ozzy was quite put out about being left in the hoosegow for 5 days, but eventually he forgave us. He and Juli shared the futon, though Juli says he's a covers hog.

Juli and I made blackberry jam with all my summer pickin's from the freezer. Then we hauled out all the peaches and made spiced peach jam too. She and Bill argued politics at high volume for 5 days.

Juli and Bill flew their separate directions on the 24th. Bill went to Florida for a 3-day computer class. Juli went home to her husband, refreshed and content. I went back to work and found that the air-conditioning is finally being fixed--JUST IN TIME for winter!

Bill came home Thursday and left for Illinois the next day. I'm hoping to see him come home tomorrow, just in time for his drug test and his inevitable shipping out, probably early next week. I spent 3 days cleaning the rental house that the previous tenants trashed.

Yesterday, I ran around Kingsport spending money. I finally got in to see Mr. Acupuncture (ah--relief!), then went to Best Buy to recycle the dead printer and buy a DVD cleaning disk. Then to Lowes, where fruit trees were 50% off! I bought white peaches, red peaches, bush peaches, two kinds of pears, a plum, and an apricot. Lunch at 5 Guys, then to Walmart for new glasses and dress work shirts for Alex. On the way home, I stopped at the vet's and bought heartworm pills and Frontline for Ozzy. Whew!

Now it's Tuesday, and time to go back to work. The mornings are delightfully frosty, and the days are sunny and blessedly cool. I am loving being back on my mountain, and savoring every moment. Soon, when Bill leaves and I find a tenant for the rental, I'll be leaving for the long trip to Los Angeles.

I feel like I've been traveling all year long. It would be nice to just plop and rest, but there are big doings coming up again, and I'll be back feeling frantic again in no time.

************

Wow. I was just typing in the time and date and realizing I was surgerized 3 years ago TODAY.
How strange life is. What suffused my entire consciousness then is now just a distant ho-hum today. Life is good.

Alex's Big Ol' Bass

2010-10-13T09:20:00.001-03:00

No sooner did my son get off the plane, he went down to the pond at sunset and pulled out the biggest large-mouthed bass EVER!

The three of us feasted on this tasty guy!

Alex has been visiting, sleeping, and going to the dentist for much-needed tooth repair. Bill and I have been doing our normal life routine, with the added benefit of Alex's company and help.

Tomorrow, we all head north to Charlottesville, VA to see Mark & Jo Goldberg, then on to NY for the start of the Hoffman wedding festivities. We'll pick up Juli and Kerne at the Albany airport Friday night.

Whirlwind Florida in Pix

2010-10-08T12:01:00.000-03:00

I arrived Friday night, rented a car, and met up with Bill at the school. We went to a favorite Italian restaurant where I drank chianti and ate clams until I couldn't move.

Saturday, we started out with breakfast, then went off to the beach for an hour of sun and swimming in the ocean. Then we drove north of Ft. Launderdale, to the Oakland Park Community Oktoberfest.

There were food products that should never be consumed, let alone even thought of:

A Volkswagon car show:

And for pure entertainment, Weiner Dog Races!

While we were sitting on the beach, a plane toting an advertisement for the Marlin's baseball game and Steve Miller Band concert flew by. We started the trek to Miami for the game and stopped at this light:

I mean, COME ON, the man has been in office less than 2 years. Where's Herbert Hoover Blvd?

There was baseball (the Marlins won their last game with the Pittsburgh Pirates):

Then a spectacular fireworks show and the Steve Miller Band concert:

A thoroughly entertaining and exhausting day. Sunday we lazed around the pool. Monday found me back at the airport at 5:30 am, and home to Tri-Cities before noon.

Yes, this is how the jet-set lives...

Thursday? Already?

2010-09-30T10:43:00.000-03:00

I just don't know where the time goes. Here it is Thursday, time to go to work, and I'm flying to Florida tomorrow morning to visit Bill for the weekend. My bags are NOT packed, the house is a wreck, and somehow I'm still sitting here at the computer in my jammies and not caring. Whatever.

It seems so decadent to just "fly off for the weekend." Other people do this, not us. They jet off to Paris for the weekend (in literature, that is. I don't really KNOW anyone who actually does this). It is going to be raining in Florida due to a tropical storm that may turn into a hurricane. I will take my bathing suit, but I doubt if I'll use it. I will take my knitting projects. I will eat seafood. I will listen to my husband wax poetic about his welding class.

Ozzy is going to "dog jail" at the vet's boarding facility. He will not like this. He will scold me when I return on Monday morning. Part of me hopes that he will be so overjoyed to be sprung from captivity that he will behave himself when we return home, grateful and chastised. But that may be expecting too much from a dog. Mostly, I predict that he will just be pissed, and wilder than ever.

But I will have the sweet memory of my three-day holiday to sustain me.

Revenge of the Arachnids

2010-09-25T09:08:00.001-03:00

Ozzy is an early riser. I mean, REALLY early, when it's still oh-dark-thirty outside. Staggering up to Oz's whines, stumbling to the door without glasses, I usually just open the door and walk him out to the backyard.

For some reason this morning (being thoroughly still asleep), I just opened the door and let him go out by himself. Good thing, because when I finally did focus, this was what was just inside the door frame at eye level:

I can only assume that this web was meant to catch ME, the villain who pillaged through the spider community a few days ago:

Yes, it's beautiful and it took Mr. or Ms. Spidey all night to "knit," but come on--a web designed to catch my entire upper torso at 5:30 am before I've had my coffee? Not nice.

Charlotte's Web

2010-09-23T09:00:00.000-03:00

I like spiders, in the abstract. Yes, sometimes they are so big I get a visceral punch in the gut when I first see them, a startle response of fight-or-flight that reminds me I'm not so far away from my jungle roots as I suppose. Yes, I have a horrific allergic reaction to their venom that makes me swell to inhuman size when bitten.

But spiders eat mosquitos and wasps, and are an integral part of our life here. The ecology of La Casa Redonda depends on spiders doing their jobs. It's just that now that it's autumn, the face-full-of-webs has gotten old. Inside the house, every window corner has its resident, and dusty cobwebs hang from the ceiling fans, stretch across the rough stones of our indoor central chimney, and gather in the corners of every room.

They hang outside my front door (because that's where the flying bugs are, drawn to the outdoor lights at night), and construct huge circular webs that accost me when coming in or out. On the trails up back, their webs stretch across the path at face height, causing mouthfuls of stickiness and shivers up my spine. I've had quite enough, thank you.

So, with stick in hand, I marched outside and wound the offenders up in their own webs and tossed them over the side railing into the forest. I similarly denuded the corners, the windows, the chimney and the nooks and crannies where the spiders lurk and tossed them into the woods.
A new batch will undoubtedly take up residence (or they'll all inch back up to the house eventually), but for now, I have beaten back the hordes.

Sorry Charlotte. You were one of my favorite book characters in my childhood, but they had to go. Although, if one were to speak and call me "Wilbur," I would have paused my wanton destruction of Spider World for a moment...before tossing him over the side with the rest.

Change of Plans

2010-09-20T07:05:00.000-03:00

Bill leaves today--not for Norfolk as planned, but to go up to Illinois to be with his father. Bud is having a G-Tube installed on Wednesday, and after much agonizing, Bill decided that while the company meet-and-greet in Norfolk was an annual event he could do another time, spending time with his dad is limited.

Bud's jaw tumor is growing aggressively, and his doctors fear that soon he'll be unable to swallow, hence the push to insert a feeding tube as soon as possible. It may already be too late--they will only know when they get in there and attempt to access his nasal passages with a scope to place the permanent tube in his stomach. Bill says that this will give his dad some options for the future. I have a deep sense of foreboding about this, but so far have just kept my peace. It is not my decision to make, but I am pretty sure that if I were in the same spot, I would forgo the G-Tube. My reasoning is that having it there makes it easier for the medicos to prolong his pain indefinitely while they continue their "extraordinary measures" to postpone the inevitable. While starving to death doesn't sound pleasant either, it's one of those end-of-life dilemmas where none of the choices are good. It is very hard for my husband right now, and I am glad he is spending as much time as he can with his dad, whatever the reason.

As soon as Bill gets back, he'll be leaving for his class in Florida for two weeks. I will fly down for the weekend in between, but for the next 3 weeks, it will be just me and Ozzy holding down the fort. There is plenty to do, as always.

Thoughts from the Laundromat

2010-09-17T09:10:00.001-03:00

I have been poor, and I have been not poor. As far as I can tell, there are only a few significant differences between those two economic states: what kind of meat you eat (and how much), and where you do your laundry.

When you are poor (or camping, which is sort of the same thing on a temporary, volunteer basis), you do your laundry in the laundromat. You gather up all your dirties in a giant pile in the middle of a bedsheet and slog down to the local washateria for a couple of hours of mind-numbing bending, lifting, wheeling great gobs of wet cloth around in carts with challenging, non-working casters, burning fingers, separating loads of almost-dry from not-at-all-dry, shifting into working dryers from non-working dryers, complaining to the management, fending off conversation with sketchy characters you would give a wide berth to on the street, and trying to cadge enough quarters for the whole thing to be DONE, so you can fold in peace and go home.

There is also a middle ground of laundry world, where your apartment building has a few washers and dryers, saving you the trip to the general public laundromat, but constraining you with the first-come, first-served scheduling. If your neighbor beats you to the laundry room, your day is shot. Or, if your neighbor doesn't come back when their load is dry, you are left with the uncomfortable dilemma of whether to remove their clean laundry from the dryer you want to use and risk their wrath when you lose a baby sock down the gap by the hoses. I have been yelled at by complete strangers, even when I knew they should be apologizing to ME for blowing off their laundry chores and not removing their clothes promptly.

The lap of luxury as far as I am concerned is being able to do laundry in your own home. When Bill and I received our first washer and dryer as a gift from my grandparents, I thought we had finally hit the big-time. The unimaginable freedom of being able to do a load every few days so it didn't turn into a full-day chore of gathering,sorting, pre-treating, washing, drying and folding every blessed piece of clothing we owned! Not having to find or feed quarters, resenting every coin spent on another 6 minutes of dryer heat! To choose whether to line dry or heat dry! The ability to wash, dry and fold at my leisure!

But at the end of summer, when the well is dry, the spring smells of sulfur, and I don't want to use what precious water we have on clothes, I revisit the laundromat, and I am, in one word, grateful.

I have washed clothes in a New Zealand laundromat with the kind of washers without a spin cycle--that is, they washed in a mechanized tub, and then I ran them through a hand-cranked wringer. I have stood on the banks of the river in Fiji, watching the women hand-scrubbing their clothes on rocks, while trying to keep an eye on their children playing in the water (and hopefully, not drowning). I have walked by the open-air "laundromat" in San Miguel, Mexico, as the women bent over cement tubs, agitating by hand, squeezing by hand, and then hauling heavy, wet clothes in baskets on their backs, trudging home, where it then had to be hung on lines in a living room for days.

So I really don't mind the few hours each month I have to spend not being able to wash at home. It gives me an opportunity to knit quietly (as long as I remember to check that my knitting needles aren't in with the clothes), brush up on my Spanish with the local construction workers who are in for their weekly wash chores on Sunday afternoon, and reflect on how nice it is to have a choice of where I do my laundry. Is this a great country or what???

New Driveway, New Trees, Big Fish, Old Dog, Bad Headache

2010-09-15T06:21:00.000-03:00

Bill and I tromped down to the pond at sunrise a few mornings ago, hoping to catch some breakfast. I pulled this guy out on my fifth cast. Bill hooked a huge bass, but he spit the hook at the last minute. I got another crack at him, but I lost him when he snapped my swivel and took my lure. I put this one back in the pond and we had cereal instead of bass for breakfast. Tomorrow is another day...

Ozzy continues to entertain us with his playful, puppy-like antics. He does not act like an old dog (except when he over-does the exercise). Bill decided he couldn't give him up and send him to Baltimore to a new home, so we have signed the papers and adopted him. He thinks he was already "home," so it will work out just fine. He is now our dog.

While Bill shopped at Lowe's for drainage supplies for the new driveway patch, I bought trees. I found a Granny Smith apple, a Montmorency cherry and a self-pollinating nectarine. Bill is clearing some of the hillside to start our "orchard" near where Echo is buried.

And the driveway patch. Those of you who have braved our road rally-type transition from gravel to the steep concrete, bouncing over water-damaged ruts and gullies, straddling potholes the size of tiger pits, will be pleased to note the new, improved roadway. The water runoff now flows into a grate to be carried away into the pond (by the soon-to-be installed pipe), instead of washing out the bottom of the drive.

I was fortunate to be working the day of pouring concrete. There was WAY too much testosterone in the air, four sweating men (including Bill), heavy machinery, shovels, Bob-cat, and cement truck. When I came home from work, it was done (and quiet). We spent the rest of the week hoofing up and down the drive back and forth to the cars parked down by the pond, while the cement cured.

This is my week of working everyday. I had a truly monstrous headache all last night, checking books in and out with an ice bag on my head and ignoring the patrons' snickers. I came home, immediately changed into my jammies and stuffed my throbbing skull into a pillow. Today the library is closed and we will all show up in grubbies to clean and organize without the distraction of having to wait on people. Then back to the routine on Thursday and substituting for a co-worker on Friday. Bill leaves for Norfolk on Sunday.

And that, as they say, is that.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation...

2010-09-07T08:45:00.002-03:00

There's a touch of fall in the air, FINALLY! The last few days have been downright gorgeous--cool breezes, warm sun, but with that distinctive thin light that says summer is ending. "Slug Summer" is over for Pam, time to get back to a less restrictive, more enjoyable set of activities. Blogging returns!

Yesterday, Bill and I went up on the Clinch River, near Kyles Ford, for some outdoor recreation!

Where did the summer go?

I spent an inordinate amount of time complaining about the unrelenting heat, taking cold showers, managing hot flashes on top of the 56 continuous days of 90+ temps. I threw the frisbee for Ozzy on my brief scuttles outside, breathlessly staggering back to the cooler indoors after five minutes.

I learned how to make ice cream, made biscotti, fabulous meals, and cookies for my sweet-toothed husband.

I watched rabbits eat ALL of my bean patch, my potted porch garden turn crispy in the sun, and marveled as my still-thinking-he's-starving-dog ate cukes, peppers and tomatoes, right off the plants before I could get them myself. I finally ate one of my pears, a sole-survivor that the deer somehow missed. It was delicious.

I slogged through my library days, panting and whining. I developed a nice little case of roseacea on my face from the heat and humidity (I'm thinking of sending the bills to the mayor, who still sits in HIS air-conditioned office and doesn't think about the sweltering minions down at the public library).

I got the car fixed from Bill's encounter with a dive-bombing turkey. I had lunch with friends. I let the housework slide and only did laundry when I ran out of underwear. Bill and I went to Illinois and visited his father, whose time is increasingly limited. I tried out some new knitting techniques. I leveled up in Farmville.

I did not exercise. I did not worry about anything. I lived in the now, and usually that meant assessing my best options for what to do and deciding on a nap.

Now the calendar is filled to the brim for the next few months. Today, concrete is being delivered to repair the broken driveway at the bottom of the hill and make ramp from the top of the driveway to the basement. I am working three days this week, four next week, and then Bill goes to Norfolk for a three-day "meet & greet" with the home office.

Then, on the 26th, Bill will go to Florida for a two-week welding class. I will visit him in Ft. Lauderdale on the weekend between.

Then Alex flies into Tri-Cities for a visit and the three of us will drive up to New York for the Hoffman wedding. Juli and Kerne are planning on flying in to meet us for the wedding as well, and then Alex and Kerne will fly back to Seattle and Juli will drive back to TN with us for a short visit.

At the end of October, Bill will go back to Florida for another three-day class in something.

And then it will be November, time for a short stab at filling the freezer with some venison, and then back to the briny deep for Bill. I'll be driving to the west coast with Ozzy, for a visit with my mom and brother's family in Los Angeles.

And that, my friends, is that. The whole year, gone in a snap.

On the mental front, life is good. I have pretty much forgotten that I am a cancer refugee. My body is finally my own, comfortable, familiar and taken for granted, except for the 3 times yearly I have to check in with the oncologist or other medicos. Those are the only days I fret and worry that the monster may have returned. But so far, the news is good. I am still a success story. And damned grateful for it too. No regrets, no boo-boo face. I don't have to wear a bra for the first time in my life. Yes, I look like a Barbie doll with middle-age spread, but I'm here. And that qualifies as a hugely welcome miracle.

Summer Hiatus

2010-08-14T09:06:00.000-03:00

I'm still here...just way too busy. I do quite a bit of thinking, but there seems to be no time to blog about what I'm thinking about. Bill and Ozzy and work take up almost every waking hour, and I'm too selfish to give up even one hour of precious sleep time to compose a post. The next few weeks will be taken up with traveling to Illinois, doctor's appointments and the usual business of life.

I guess I'm taking the summer off!

Bill goes fishing & Ozzy meets a Bass

2010-08-02T11:03:00.001-03:00

Bill managed to lasso our escaped dock yesterday and hauled it back to shore. This morning he was up early, headed down to the pond to try his luck at fishing.

This 13 1/2 inch large mouth bass is our first fish from our pond. We don't know whether he's grown up from one of the fingerlings we stocked when we first moved here, or whether he was already living there.

Ozzy was very interested in the smelly fish for awhile, then went back to his usual day job--being a dog.

Home-grown fish for dinner tonight!

A Cool Breeze!

2010-07-29T08:49:00.000-03:00

I was up at 6 to take Ozzy out, and to my shock, there was a COOL wind blowing in the backyard! Big, fat, COLD raindrops! I had forgotten what it felt like to be outside and not sweating to death, no matter what the time.

Alas, it was a limited-time offer. By the time we finished breakfast, it was sweltering and steaming again.

Where does the time go?

2010-07-26T10:03:00.000-03:00

I look up and blam! Dog maintenance, Bill off to Illinois to visit his father, picking blackberries, making ice cream, reading, knitting, sleeping. A whole week has passed me by. Tempis fugit.

Bill is now home, Ozzy the Dog is settling in, and I take quick forays into the heat to do chores, followed by long naps on the couch in the air-conditioning.

Today, Bill has his Coast Guard physical and I go to lunch with friends. Tuesday, I work at the library/sweatbox (A/C still non-functioning). Wednesday, dental appointment. Thursday, I work again. Friday, I see the dermatologist. Is it any wonder that the days just march on without effort, and here we are at August?

Welcome Ozzy!

2010-07-18T10:45:00.000-03:00

Hello to the new dog! This is Ozzy, 8 years old, rescued from an elderly woman with dementia who forgot to feed him and his sister. They were down to 36 pounds when found. Now Ozzy comes to us from a 4-month foster in Wisconsin--a healthy, happy 55 pounds. He's settling in and starting to adjust to us--and we to him.

Bill comes home to TN

2010-07-13T09:00:00.001-03:00

The plane from Atlanta was delayed. Of course. Bill ended up flying for more than 30 hours before he finally was released from the clutches of air travel. We got home around 2-3 am, the only car on that lonesome highway in the dark. Even the deer were asleep.

I have to go to work today and slog through that hot-humid veil of tears without a nap. How will I ever survive? Stay tuned...

Bill is finally coming home!

2010-07-11T08:29:00.001-03:00

Barring any unforseen snafus, Bill will be home Monday night! Poor guy has to bus to Fukaoka, fly to Tokyo, then San Francisco (getting luggage, clearing customs, then re-checking luggage), then Atlanta, and finally Tri-Cities. I don't envy him those flights, but I sure will be glad to see him at last.

It's been a little lonely around here without Mr. Bounder. I keep thinking I need to take him out, or feed him or play with him. Then I remember that he's at peace now, and he doesn't have to be afraid anymore. It was an interesting experience having a dog who thought I was his whole world (despite the fact that he didn't like anyone else). I've never had a dog that was so affectionate, so grateful for attention, so playful and cuddly. Granted it was a "I'll eat you up, I love you so" kind of love. He was a character.

So once again, it's a swamp-out-the-mess kind of day. Laundry, de-cluttering and vacuuming. I picked a gallon of blackberries yesterday and I will make a nice pie for Bill's homecoming.

I also experimented with making chocolate swirl ice cream and fresh peach ice cream. The texture was a little off on the peach, a little too icy, I suspect because of the amount of water in the fruit. But the flavor was fabulous. I'm not a chocolate fan, but this tastes pretty good, with hot fudge sauce streaking through the lighter chocolate ice cream. I'm learning new tricks.

Say Goodbye to Bounder

2010-07-09T07:46:00.000-03:00

Many of you who have followed Bounder's crazy antics will be as grieved as I am today. The poor little guy has made terrific progress in some areas, but he has not been able to conquer his fears, and has developed an unpredictable, escalating biting behavior. Sadly, the American Belgian Malinois Rescue Committee has decided that because of this, he is dangerous to me and to others who come into our household, and they have decided that he must be put down.

After watching him with Ray and Elaine during their visit, and talking at length with people who know more about the breed than I do, I am forced to agree that poor Bounder can't be trusted anymore. Unfortunately, the popularity of this breed with law enforcement has led to many of these dogs being trained with inappropriately harsh methods, which can turn them vicious. Now that Bounder is "comfortable" (relative term) in my house, he is starting to revert to whatever was done to him in his prison guard training. He may have even been trained to bite aggressively on purpose.

I understand that this is a huge liability issue for the ABMC--if I or one of my household was seriously injured by Bounder, they would be on the hook. Bill also brought up the fact that they are also concerned with the breed's reputation--they have to cull the rejects, lest the breed itself develop a reputation like the pit bull has.

While he continues to be very affectionate with me, Bounder has been stepping up his aggressive behaviors in the past week. It's almost as if once he got a "taste" of Ray, he feels free to bite everyone, including me. This cannot be tolerated; it's just too dangerous.

The AMBC tells me I did everything I could and gave Bounder perhaps the only loving, stable home he had in his short life, but I'm not so sure. Part of me thinks I could have staved this development off, if I were more experienced. But I also have to be pragmatic and realize that this too is part of the fostering process. It's just sad that it had to be my first foster care.

On the plus side, AMBC is sending me Ozzy, also known as Rory next week. This malinois male is about 7-8 years old, very laid-back. He was rescued from a starvation situation when he was down to 36 pounds. He has been living in Wisconsin for the past four months, and has fattened up to 55 pounds now. Rory just needs to recover his muscle mass, have humans who love him and have a safe place for him to live a good dog life. This I can do. He is considered to be "hard to place" because of his age. He has no outstanding health or behavior problems, and AMBC is thrilled that I said I'd take him. They say that everyone who has come in contact with this guy just adores him.

So today will be a sad day. Bill is due home on Monday or Tuesday and we will do the dog thing together with a new foster.

Fourth of July & Blackberry Pie

2010-07-06T09:30:00.000-03:00

Our Fourth of July Weekend:

Bounder was not too impressed with our houseguests. He bit Ray, growled at Elaine and generally made a nuisance of himself. Aw, but he looks so sweet!

Due to the plethora of blackberries ripening down at the pond, it was only appropriate that Blackberry Pie be made and consummed:

And we tried out my new kitchen toy, an ice cream maker! This machine is awesome! We made Blackberry Sorbet and Vanilla Ice Cream at the same time. To go with the pie, of course.

Ray, Elaine and I went to a Fourth of July party. It was hot. It was buggy. It was Tennessee in the summer:

Bill was supposed to be on a plane, arriving tonight. But his relief, Earl, failed to get on the plane in Medford, Oregon. Earl's photo is on a milk carton now. If you see him, tell him to get his behind to Japan, so Bill can come home!

July brings cool weather?

2010-07-01T07:04:00.000-03:00

It is a blessed 64 degrees out at 7 am this morning. What a relief! After 6 weeks of 90+ every day, today is predicted to get up to a manageable 84! And "only" 87 tomorrow.

If I didn't have to go to work, I'd be down at the pond picking blackberries. As it is, I have plenty to do. There are the usual first-of-the-month chores: Water softener maintenance, septic system maintenance, change the heat pump filters, check the UV water system, give the dog his monthly heartworm and tick preventative. Take my "bone-itis" meds.

Ray & Elaine are coming tonight, so I have to make up a bed for them, vacuum, put out fresh towels, clear off clutter from all the horizontal surfaces, think about what to cook for dinner, and move myself up to the loft for the duration of the visit.

And as soon as they leave on Monday, it will be time to get ready for Bill's return. He's slated to be relieved sometime between July 10-15.

Life is going to get busy.

Fruit Farm Dilemma

2010-06-28T09:39:00.001-03:00

The spring haying is done (thanks to my neighbors, who have hungry cattle). In exchange for mowing my field, they get the hay. And I get the leavings to mulch my garden.

Now, the race is on to see who will get the fruit this year, Pam or the Deer!

Last year, the deer got ALL the pears, a bumper crop decimated in the night. They ate every pear and even parts of the tree, the exact night before I planned to harvest. This year, I am watching both the apples and the pears with a gimlet eye, hoping to beat the ruminants at their gustatory game. Let's see how they feel when they go to eat that bounty and find that the humans harvested a day early!

Bill commented that it must have seemed like Juli was living at home again. That girl could go through fruit like lightning. Yes, just like a herd of deer.

Happy Birthday, Alex!

2010-06-25T10:36:00.000-03:00

My little boy Alex is 24 today! Happy Birthday, son!

Rural Summer : I've been noticing some interesting new bugs around this year. Last night, while accompanying Bounder on his night perambulation, this scary moth was hanging out by the front door. The "eyes" are to scare away predators that might eat it.

At 6:30 this morning, it was cool and overcast enough (only 80 degrees! Cooler than inside the library!) to go pick blackberries down at the pond.

Here is what they looked like a week ago:

Give these puppies a week of 95+ degree heat and a rain shower last night, and they plump up and jump into my bucket. Well, not quite. There are the thorns and the bugs and the frogs croaking in the early morning light. And there was some major thrashing about in the sumac up on the south slope, followed by some indignant snorting and snuffling. Deer, bedded down in the brush, resentful that my presence required them to get up early and move. But free food, yippee!

Days Melting Into Each Other

2010-06-17T09:46:00.001-03:00

The unrelenting heat continues. We are on Week 4 of no A/C at the library. Working there is exhausting and sweaty, and I am cranky. Tuesday, a couple of strapping young men brought in a window unit -- for the Geneology Room, to protect the documents. In the meantime, the patrons and staff will continue to wilt. I suspect that a whole bunch of people are now going to exhibit a sudden interest in geneology...

But I go and do my time in the sweatbox and then come home to my lovely air-conditioned house. Brother Jerry is due for a visit this weekend--I hope he doesn't burst into flames or collapse in a sodden puddle.

Meanwhile, the garden is growing, the forest is encroaching, life goes on. Four more weeks and Bill is due home.

Blackberry Tyranny

2010-06-14T09:15:00.001-03:00

Purple fingers, purple stove. Blackberry juice EVERYWHERE! The berries are ripening down by the pond, which means that I had to do something with the eleventy-billion ziplock bags of LAST YEAR'S blackberries. It's hard to pass up free food, but I do hate the process.

I took about 20 quarts of berries, cooked them down to a mush, smooshed it all through a food mill, then sieved the guck through a fine-mesh screen, scraping and shaking and smashing, and ended up with about 5 quarts of blackberry puree.

Now you're thinking "yeah, and what does that get you?"

I'm thinking sauce-flavoring for venison, blackberry vinegar for salad dressing, blackberry sorbet in the ice cream maker, and as a last resort, blackberry jam. It's almost even seedless. Sort of. As much as I could stand. Then there's the washing up of the stove, the counters and all the pots and pans and sieves and spoons. My fingers will be purple for a week. I look like I had a fight with an old-fashioned ditto machine.

While the blackberry project was going on, I took inventory of the freezer. Given my penchant for buying any meat that's on sale, I don't need to buy meat for about another year. And I did the laundry in between the puree-making. And I even sat down and watched some episodes of Smallville and knitted a few rows of the never-ending sweater.

Not a bad weekend at all.

I can't remember it ever being this hot and humid in June. August, yes. It's 9 am, and about 90 degrees out there. Time to go exercise the lunatic canine, before it gets even hotter...

Knitting & Blogging Lapse in the Summer Heat

2010-06-08T14:38:00.003-03:00

When it gets hot, I lose energy. I am enervated to the height of sloth by a slight rise of the thermometer. Add in sultry humidity, and I am the human equivalent of a floppy, wet rag.

Eating is a problem in the summer for me. I have no appetite, even though my stomach grumbles along. At this point I reach into my past and make my mother's bean salad. It's cold, delicious and once I make it in the cool of the evening, I have breakfast, lunch and dinner made.

Mom's Bean Salad (with my variation)

1 can each, rinsed and drained:

Garbonzo Beans
Cut Green Beans
French-style Green Beans
Cut Wax Beans
Dark Red Kidney Beans
Light Red Kidney Beans
Black Beans
Whole Kernel Corn

Add:
1 Red Onion, sliced very thin
1 Cup Cider Vinegar
1/4 Cup Red Wine Vinegar
1/2 Cup Olive Oil
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. pepper
1 tsp. sugar

Marinate overnight. Serve as main dish or on lettuce for a hearty salad. Keeps well in fridge for 1 week.

Jeez, try to do the environmentally conscious thing, and...

2010-06-03T09:19:00.000-03:00

Compost.

We have a compost bin, not that we babysit it with any regularity, or worry about the ratio of brown-to-green material. I simply take whatever kitchen scraps I have in a bucket down to the bin, hold my nose, and dump it in, trusting that nature will (someday), turn it into fertilizer for my garden.

So there I am, emptying the bucket into the bid, when I was attacked by a fly-by wasp. He or she didn't even bother to land on me, it just stung me on the wrist as it flew by. Within the hour, my hand was the size of a softball, and by evening, my arm had swelled up like a toad. I took the steroids, iced it down, and still this morning it's hot and red and swollen and itchy.

Try to do a good deed, and what does it get you? More stupid injury.

Harrumph.

****************

Happiest of birthdays to you, my darling Bill. You're 52, but forever young in my eyes!

A Distinct Absence of Coldness...

2010-06-02T10:14:00.000-03:00

I had a heart-stopping moment this morning when I got up. I opened the refrigerator door, and the light did NOT come on. There was no hum, there was no chill. My new refrigerator (well, almost new, definitely on the backside of the warranty) had failed. I puttered and pondered. The easiest thing would be if the circuit breaker tripped in the night. So, clomping downstairs, peering into the depths of the grey box, I found a breaker labelled "Kitch Out." The breaker was spongy, so I reset it and returned to find the fridge on and cranking away. Presumably, the same thing that had all the clocks in the house blinking had surged my icebox into conniptions.

I have not been blogging for the same reason. When it rains, my satellite internet connection has a spazz-out, making working on the computer a frustrating and annoying chore. Dial-up back-up is just as tedious. So I watch movies and read books instead. And it has been raining torrentially for the past week. Yesterday on my lunch hour chores for the library (bank, post office), I was soaked to the skin and had to go home and change clothes. I was so wet I felt like shaking like a dog when I walked in the door, dripping from head to toe.

Speaking of dogs, Bounder continues to improve, though his puppy-energy gives me pause at times. We're working on "not biting" as everything goes into the mouth, including my toes, my elbows and my nose. It's like having a toddler all over again.

As adorable and charmingly funny as he is, his presence makes me realize that I am still heartbroken over Echo's demise and death. It's not that Bounder suffers by comparison, it's simply that he is "not Echo." He is not familiar, we don't have years of shared games and routines, and he doesn't understand my ways--nor do I understand his. He may grow into a treasured, beloved friend, but right now, it's as though I am keeping my emotional distance to protect my heart, and keep Echo alive in my memory.

But really, how could you not love that face?

Deep in the Heart of Taxes...

2010-05-25T12:50:00.000-03:00

Who ever heard of doing your taxes at the end of MAY? I have never been late with my taxes, since I first filed in 1968. Oh, I crank about it, I threaten to file an extension on April 14 (but you have to pretty much have everything done in order to have the numbers to put on the extension, so what's the point of that?), but I get them in.

This year, I was on the West Coast on April 15, and all my W-2s were either sitting on my desk in TN, or in the pile of mail mouldering at the post office. I found a quirkly little regulation though that says if either spouse is working out of the country on April 15, you get an automatic 2-month extension without filing a thing. You just have to attach a note when you file, explaining who, what, when, where, and why. But the problem is that I can't very well do that without Bill's signature, and he won't be home until mid-July.

So, I have to do the taxes to get the numbers to file an extension, attach the note to the extension request and get it in by June 15.

I've got a pretty good handle on everything, as I went through and organized the "To-Be-Filed" bucket last night, looking for the paperwork on my "clunker" trade. I never did find that, but I found charity receipts, a whole year of bank statements (which will help me re-populate Quicken for the 3 months when my computer crashed last summer), and other useful paperwork. Now I have to go to Walmart and pick up a box of file folders so I can truly be done with this annual paper mess.

I know. If I did the books monthly, I wouldn't have to go through this big mess once a year. But let's think about this for a minute. If I did everthing monthly, that just means I'd be tackling this odious chore 12 times a year, instead of just once a year. Sure the pile would be smaller, but the mental frustration of it is 11 times less if I do it annually. So I doubt that I am prepared to change my evil ways.

At least the To-Be-Filed bucket corrals the mess in one easy to ignore place. The Zen of Accounting. Out of sight, out of mind. Finis.

**********************

In the meantime, I have discovered that the continuing pain in my foot is probably due to a stress fracture, compounded by a high-ankle sprain. I am taking the week off from work and spending quality time with my books and ice-pack.

Bounder did me the favor of walking himself this morning, finally returning home by racing full-speed down the hill to the porch (I'm amazed he didn't crash through the railing). Full of ticks, burrs and a foot-long tongue hanging ridiculously out the side of his mouth, he staggered in, drank 2 litres of water and collapsed on his dog bed for a nap.

I think I'll take a lesson from the dog on that nap thing...

Digging in the Dirt...or, "It's as Hot as Singapore Out There!"

2010-05-23T18:02:00.000-03:00

Dirt squelching in my Crocs (plastic shoes ARE washable), slapping mosquitoes, lugging 2 cu. ft. bags of soil, sorting through seeds, potting up peppers and tomatoes--that's what life here in my own real-life Farmville is all about.

I am late putting in my "garden" this year due to my absence, but putting it in I am (in between naps and lying down with ice-packs on my forehead and lumbar region). I always forget how much work it is to grow stuff. First, the poison ivy has to be defoliated. Then, the weeds and volunteers have to be cleared out of the beds. Soil has to be turned and rocks thrown out and clods broken up.

Despite hat, sunglasses, insect repellent, gloves (yes, GLOVES, Mert!) I always manage to stagger back into the house bathed in perspiration reminiscent of Singapore flop-sweat, splashed with mud and scratching my various bites and skin rashes. And yet I go out and do it again. I must be out of my mind.

I have 4 zucchinis, 4 yellow crooknecks, and a rhubarb in the ground. I have a dozen each of tomatoes and peppers in pots, along with 2 big pots of bush pickling cukes and 3 eggplant. I am almost done with preparing the beds for carrots, beets, potatoes, onions and beans. I decided this year that peas were too much work for too little produce--and it's too hot already for peas anyway, as well as broccoli and cauliflower.

I suppose I could just shlep down to the Farmer's Market on Tuesdays and Saturdays, but it is so satisfying to step out onto the porch and pick my own salads and herbs during the summer months. Not to mention the joy of picking blackberries in the rain (the only time it's comfortable enough to engage in such an activity), or hoping-against-hope that I will be the one to harvest the plums and apples this year instead of the deer.

Come August, I will be drowning in squash, tired of tomatoes, and giving peppers and beans away. This pleases me.

Losing Weight, Floating Docks & Insane Dog

2010-05-19T09:31:00.000-03:00

I haven't been blogging lately (despite emails saying "miss you!"), due to circumstances beyond my control, as they say. It's been raining. Never mind that the temperature outside has been in the high 80s and even 90s some days, the water just keeps pouring from the sky! I spend a lot of time getting wet and drying off, doing laundry and still, the unpacking goes on.

As a result, my floating dock done floated away from shore. Moorless, it bobbles half-submerged around the pond, never coming close enough to shore for me to lasso it and drag it back. I have thought about getting the canoe down and paddling out to it, attaching a rope and then making my way back to shore with the rope, attaching it to a car and hauling it back to it's place, then figure out a way to secure it again. But all that just seems like WAY too much work. It's easier to sit and think about it while I'm knitting and watching TV.

And I've decided that the 28 pounds I have added to my frame in the last 2 1/2 years have to go away. Thanks to a suggestion from MaryAnn, I have been on the South Beach Diet since last Friday, and have lost 10 pounds! I never looked into this particular meal plan, mostly because I hated the name that conjured up rail-thin society babes ("social x-rays," as Tom Wolfe put it, in Bonfire of the Vanities), frolicking about their useless lives while drinking fortified exotic juices. But that isn't it at all. After reading the book, it's basically a refutation of the low-fat, high-carbo diet we've all been told is good for us. In the decades since the Food Pyramid was changed to make us all eat less fat, less protein and bump up our carbs, America has gotten fatter. This plan is all about the meat, cheese, eggs and vegetables, cutting out ALL sugars and starches for the first two weeks. After that, I can start adding in fruit and whole grains. It's the low-glycemic, quasi-diabetic diet that has always worked for me in the past. And it sure is working now, without hunger or crankiness.

And I've been getting plenty of exercise with Mr. Crazy-Dog. Bounder is coming along just fine, though he is clumsy, somewhat dumb and hyper. He got away from me a few days ago, clamored up the back deck steps, then scooted under the railing out onto the roof. Then, of course, he fell off the roof to the second story deck below, crashed through the railing and lattice barrier, and fell another 10 feet to the driveway below. Then he jumped up, ran to the back yard and tried to do it AGAIN! I grabbed him before he could go up the steps again, and was relieved that he was completely unhurt, despite falling off the roof of my house. Wow.

Bill suggested that we put a sign that says "Beware of the Dog," with an arrow pointing skyward. Or, put a parachute on the silly animal.

The garden is slowly taking shape, in raised beds and pots on the porch. I will have my eggplants, cucumbers, tomatoes, and peppers this summer! Although with the heat and rain we've had, I'd say summer is already here.

Life goes on.

Let's Give Thanks for the "Evil" Pharmaceutical Industry!

2010-05-14T10:46:00.001-03:00

After two years of Juli's multiple hospital admissions, mystery panic attacks, intractable vomiting and tremendous medical debt, my daughter's disease was finally diagnosed. It can be treated and possibly cured by a drug called Lamictal. The only problem was that the drug would cost almost $600 per month--a total deal-breaker, out of the realm of reality for her.

I went online and found the manufacturer of Lamictal, GlaxoSmithKline, and I called them. I explained the situation. The gentleman asked a few questions and then told me if my daughter and son-in-law's combined income was less than $36,000 a year, GSK could get her her medication today. They would email a voucher for a 60-day supply at any dispensing pharmacy for a $10 co-pay. Then, after they received a one-page form and a copy of last year's 1040 taxes, GSK would begin sending her 90-day supplies free of charge, for as long as she needed it.

I knew that there were programs, but I expected little more than maybe a coupon or a 10% discount. Unfortunately, I had bought into the all-too-familiar argument that Giant Pharma was "evil" (or at least irresponsible). Sure they spent an average of $1 Billion to develop every new drug they bring to market, and spent almost 10 years on paperwork to get it through the clinical trials and government-approval phases, but what good is a new miracle drug if no one can afford it?

Turns out that they give away the drugs to those who need them--but we never hear about THAT when the politicians are pontificating. I encourage everyone in a similar situation to call the drug manufacturer--you might be surprised at what they can do for you.

*************

Wednesday's oncology appointment when swimmingly well. I am now a 2 1/2 year cancer survivor, with NED (no evidence of disease), and an excellent prognosis. Woo-Hoo!

The Saga of the Dreaded Black Locust Thorn

2010-05-12T12:56:00.000-03:00

While I was out two days ago, putting up the dog wire in the backyard, I was accosted by the obnoxious trash tree known as the Black Locust. Upon returning to the house, I realized that the monster had left a stiff black thorn deep in my index finger's first knuckle. No amount of needle-probing, tweezer-pinching, squeezing, scraping or other first aid measures could get to it.

Now throbbing and swelling, I dumped a bunch of hydrogen peroxide and triple antibiotic ointment on it. Then I remembered that Cousin Jean had given me a jar of homemade salve when we were talking about insidious blackberry thorns. She said it was made out of olive oil, garlic, ground up plantain leaves and other bizarre things, but that it had the effect of drawing out thorns. I swabbed it on my finger, put a band-aid on it and went to bed.

The next morning, the swelling had reduced and it wasn't as painful, but I still couldn't get the darn thing out--it was just too deep. I finally was reduced to making an appointment with the doctor for 8:30 this morning to cut my knuckle open if need be, and get it OUT!

Oh, the embarrassment of it all. THIS is what makes health care so expensive, I mused--some fool taking up a highly-trained professional physician to get a stupid thorn taken out, when he could be curing cancer or diabetes or something useful!

Getting ready to go in, I decided to unwrap the finger and try once more to remove it myself (without fainting). Cousin Jean's salve really works, because I pushed on the skin around the hole and it slowly emerged and popped out! It was a vicious looking thing, all hooked and stiff, but it was finally out of my finger.

This is the problem with living alone. You have only yourself to blame and can only count on yourself when there's a problem. You have to eat slowly and take little bites because there's no one around to give you the Heimlich Manuever if you choke. You have to watch what you're doing in the woods, because there's no one to wonder why you didn't come home in an hour and set off to find you with your broken leg sprawled across the trail.

Bill could have grabbed my hand and dug it out even if I had fainted. He wouldn't want to, (but he probably would, just to save the cost of a doctor's visit), but he's not here. It's stupid, embarrassing things like this that make me realize that life is just plain harder when you're on your own.

And Cousin Jean ought to patent that salve right away!

******************

Speaking of stupid stuff, I saw an ad for signing up for a giant dodgeball tournament in New York City. 1000 people, 600 balls (presumably, you're out if you're hit, right?), until the last man or woman standing. Really. I can't make this stuff up.

Mr. Dog Gets Comfortable

2010-05-09T13:09:00.000-03:00

"Bounder" (who alternately answers to "Shadow") and I are settling in after our first week together. He's a playful young thing, with boundless energy, until he collapses in his spot behind the couch. I've tried moving his bed to different areas of the house--he likes the spot he chose!

Lots of biting and chewing, counter-surfing and other uncivil puppy behaviors, such as drinking out of the toilet bowl. He is making me be a better housekeeper--I don't want to risk my leather purse, my hiking boots or my walking shoes to the jaws of death and destruction.

He does like the toys I brought out from the Echo bag. He tosses them in the air, flings them around the room and prances with them dangling out of his mouth. He will run and pounce on a thrown toy and sometimes even brings it back for another toss.

I have even taken him off-leash a few times--yesterday up on the mountain path, when he was being particularly tractable, and today down by the pond. He is fast. Almost as fast as I remember Echo being when she was younger. I let him race downhill and then whistle him back with a treat. This only lasts for about five go-rounds of course; then he starts to get that look as if he's headed for the horizon on the next trip. At that point, I re-leash him and we finish our walk under control. It's great to see him stretch his legs and wear himself out.

Today, I repacked the crate in its box. He is wearing sores in his face trying to push his way out between the wires, and it's just not right. Yesterday, I strung a metal cable about 80 feet up the back yard hill, attaching it by drilling and screwing eye bolts into two oak trees. I then ran a lead on a pulley and spring attachment, so I can clip him to that when I am out and about. I'm not sure he likes it any better than being in the crate, but at least he won't hurt himself on it. Now I have to figure out how to build a doghouse arrangement for when it rains. And then I'll have to teach him to go IN the doghouse when it rains!

Work is work. I'm really tired after my first week back. It's great to be with my library friends again, but physically, it's wearing. I have another round of doctor appointments this week, so it's going to continue to be busy.

And somehow, I've got to get my garden planted if I want any vegetables this summer! I am way behind on everything.

Still another reason to vote the bums out!

2010-05-06T07:45:00.000-03:00

Even though I live in fly-over country (aka "back-of-beyond," "hicksville," "that place,"), we here in Rog-Vegas do try to educate ourselves as to what's going on in less civilized venues. Still, the blatant arrogance of our "public servants" (do they really call themselves that with a straight face?) is mind-blowing.

Here's what got my biscuits burning this morning:

May 5, 2010 - The Wall Street Journal reports today a House Bill that would force lawmakers to make greater disclosures on financial transactions and disallow them from trading on non-public information is going nowhere fast.

The bill, which has been languishing in the House for four years, would require elected officials "to make their financial transactions public within 90 days of a purchase or sale," and "prohibit lawmakers from trading in financial markets based on non-public information they learn on the job." [i.e. "insider trading."]

This comes a day after the same publication reported several lawmakers profited by betting against the housing and stock market in 2008. Some did it using the same derivitives they've been railing against.

Seems the folks we send to Washington are above the same transparency and ethics they insist on for the rest of us.

The dog learns new tricks and gets a name...sort of

2010-05-05T20:14:00.003-03:00

This foster dog came to us with no canine skills and without even a dog's normal curiosity. He plunked himself down in a spot between the couch and the dining table and cowered for two days. On Saturday, tired of this fearful nonsense, I declared it to be "training time." I got a handful of kibble and started coaxing him up the stairs, one at a time. He would reach up as far as he could without actually moving up the steps, and grab the piece of kibble and run away. After an hour of this, he was making it up six steps to the landing. By the afternoon, I was sitting in the loft, making one whistle through my teeth, and he'd come bounding happily up the stairs for his treat. Then he'd run down again, and we played the game over and over again until the skill was learned and he would come to my whistle wherever I was in the house. I felt very smug and Dog-Whispererish.

We took a walk in the woods, where he encounted a pair of procreating box turtles on the trail. He was beside himself, would not approach, would not go around them, just flattened himself on the ground with his ears back and his tail tucked in. I finally hoisted him up and dragged him past the silly amphibeans, but he'd stop every ten feet and look back nervously--was he afraid they were chasing him?

All weekend long I called him every name I could think of. Sam, Mac, Max, Tonto, Barney, Stanley, Conrad, Zeus, and so on. The only one he pricked his ears up to and came running to was "Bounder," after our stair-stepping success. So that is what I'm calling him for the time being.

He does play with a ball and soft toys in the house--I have the carpet burns on my knees to prove it. He kicks the ball with his forepaws like a soccer player, just like a normal Malinois. He pounces on a thrown toy. We're still working on bringing it back. He hates the crate, whimpering and pawing and yipping in the night. And yesterday when I returned to work at the library for 8 hours, I came home to find that he had destroyed the foam pad bedding in the crate, chewing it to bits, instead of chewing on his toys. So I guess he's starting to get comfortable now.

This morning we took a lovely walk at about 8:30 am down to the pond. He is starting to walk with a confident step, sniff his way through the grass (getting his face all wet with morning dew), and even walked into the pond to investigate a frog. He is starting to hold his ears and tail up instead of cringing at everything.

This is going to be interesting.

Same old life; Brand new dog

2010-05-01T10:24:00.000-03:00

My 3 flights on Tuesday (LAX - Houston - St. Louis - Louisville) were interminable and tiring. Cousin Jeannie picked me up and we drove to her home near Lexington, and collapsed. Wednesday was a rest day, topped off by a fabulous 5 course tasting dinner at Holly Hill Inn. Jeannie had gnocchi with fiddlehead ferns and I had crispy frog legs with mussels as a starter. We both had the beet, walnut and feta cheese salad, spoonbread lobster souffle with lobster butter and the beef tenderloin with capers and port wine demi-glace. Dessert was a poppyseed bundt cake with lemon custard sauce and caramel-cashew tart with rhubarb sauce. Oh my goodness!

Thursday was traveling day. I stopped off to see MaryAnn at the pawn shop, picked up my mail at the post office (there was so much, they made me drive around back and they wheeled it out on a dolly), and much household maintenance--turning on the gas, turning on the water, flushing the pipes, firing up the water heater and well pump, getting the stove lit, programming the water softener, plugging in the UV sanitation light, flipping on breakers.

Friday was full-on medical follies day, topped off with picking up a foster dog at Walmart at 4 pm. A quick trip to the vet to get his neutering stitches out and home.

Look at this sad little guy:

He is nameless and afraid of everything. Whenever he gets nervous (all the time), he hunkers down and tries to be as small as possible. He eats his kibble at breakneck speed, as though someone is going to grab it away at any moment. He is just the sweetest, scared thing I've ever seen.

He stank of shelter, kennel and fear, so I gave him a bath this morning. It was a chore getting him in, but once there, he just stood there and shook. Now at least I can stand to be around him when he manages to get enough courage to come close to me.

This morning I tried to take him out for a walk, but he wouldn't go down the driveway. I think because he had to walk past the car, and he thought I was going to take him still somewhere else? He came down one flight of steps, but not the next. So I tied him to the porch rail, and started weeding the horrendously overgrown garden. He sat quietly at the top of the steps and watched, but wouldn't budge. He wanted to go in the basement, but wouldn't climb the steps. I had to drag him past the car so we could get back to the house from the upper back yard.

This is an experiment. I am not sure I'm ready to own another dog yet, but this guy needed a home and I need a project. We'll see how it goes.

HOME!

2010-04-27T09:08:00.000-03:00

Headed out for the airport in about 15 minutes. I can't believe I'm finally on my way east again!

Will it seem like home when I get there? It seems like home is wherever my suitcase is!

A sense of balance

2010-04-23T07:36:00.000-03:00

It is amazing to me how I slip into familiar patterns with such ease. In my mother's house, the house I moved into when I was four years old, I know where everything is, I know what night is garbage collection night. It is like a comfortable robe of history, wrapped around the seminal events of my young life, my middle life, and now, my older life.

I remember planting the olive tree with my mother and father when it was just a 12 inch stick--now it soars into the sky, as high as the power lines. I remember building the rock retaining walls with my dad, handing him the stones as he set them into the mortar.

I remember the long summer evenings, playing in the cul-de-sac with all the kids in the circle. Our only restraint was that we had to go home for dinner when the street lights came on. Walking to school with my brother, walking home for lunch, walking to the store on Saturdays to spend our allowances on penny candy at the drugstore.

Every part of this place is suffused with good memories. I labored in this house to bring my darling Juli into the world. My husband and I lived here for the first four months of her life. Family and friends now gone meet me in every corner of this place.

And now, to spend time with my brother and mother here, is a precious gift. I am savoring every moment.

I know, I know...

2010-04-20T08:40:00.000-03:00

I've taken a breather from the blogging bus. In my mother's house, all I seem to want to do is talk with her and take 6 naps a day. It is so weird being in the house where I grew up, brushing my teeth at my old bathroom sink (with my brother brushing his at his sink right next to me), just like we did 50 (yes, 50!) years ago. But comforting.

I'm just going to enjoy every moment here. I'll catch you up on all the drama when I hermitize on my mountain next week.

I'm finally on vacation, and I'm taking advantage of it!

Back on a Plane!

2010-04-13T07:15:00.000-03:00

Seattle has feted my departure today by raining on my parade. We've had uncommonly gorgeous weather for a week, but today, the water is pouring down from the sky. Fine. I'm outta here.

I had breakfast with daughter Juli, son Alex and friend Christy at Pike Place Market yesterday. A wonderful send off. We ended the day with an appointment with Dr. Casabona to go over all the test results. Juli has some decisions to make about medication regimens, but all the problems she presented two months ago seem to be under control now. The doctor was pleased. I always walk out of her office feeling like my head is stuffed full of new information.

Despite the reason for my long visit, I am so glad to have had this time with my babes. Now it's off to Los Angeles to spend two weeks with my mom and brother Jerry (who is living at mom's house while he gets his feet wet with a new job and looks for a place to live). Then, finally and blessedly home to my mountain!

All good stuff.

An Exploring Day

2010-04-11T08:04:00.000-03:00

Now that my time here is short, I've decided to spend today in Pioneer Square. I've always wanted to take the Seattle Underground Tour, ever since I saw it on the old Night Stalker television series in the 1970s. Juli also informs me that the world's best toy store and a knit shop are also in the vicinity. Lunch will be at Grand Central Bakery, home of the world's greatest bread outside of Paris.

I can't believe it's almost time to go. Juli is doing so much better (not that we know yet why she gets intermittently, violently sick), working again, back to her cheerful, delightful self. She's put on a little weight, and gotten her confidence back. She has a good doctor, and medical insurance is coming July 1, due to Kerne's new job.

The bathroom is painted, the dishes and laundry are getting done and the bills are getting paid.

The real gift is the time we have had together. We are closer than ever, and I feel as though I have reconnected with my daughter after a long separation of time and distance.

Quick Update!

2010-04-10T12:02:00.000-03:00

Once again, my girl comes through with flying colors! A beautiful stomach and colon, no abnormalities! Again, we are thankful for all the awful things that it is NOT!

Telling Time by Traffic

2010-04-08T06:06:00.000-03:00

Living in the city has required an adjustment in my noise tolerance. As J & K live above a relatively busy, steep street on Queen Anne hill, the sound of trucks and buses struggling up the slope is pretty much a constant background to conversation or sleep.

Many times I will awake on my spot on the living room couch in the dark of night, and realize that I know what time it is without looking.

Between midnight and 2 am, the background sounds are remarkably the same as during the daytime.

At 2 am, there the buses stop running, but I hear speeding cabs ferrying patrons home from the clubs.

At 3 am, the traffic calms down to a low whoosh of cars passing at a rate of about 2 per minute.

At 4 am, the street is quiet.

At 5 am, the electric buses start running.

At 6 am, the groaning of loaded trucks joins the symphony.

At 7 am, the garbage trucks start their morning rounds.

It makes me wonder if I'll be able to sleep at all when I get home to TN, without the background of constant traffic noise!

Is there such a thing as TOO QUIET?

Happy Birthday! Happy Easter!

2010-04-05T12:10:00.001-03:00

I had a nice weekend with Brother Jerry's family. Niece Bonnie had her 21st birthday! How nice it was to have a party of loving family and treasured friends, instead of a drunken bacchanal that wouldn't be remembered.

On Sunday, we dragged ourselves up out of bed and prepared to attend the early service at Jerry and Kellie's church. We were momentarily delayed by a last minute conflagration in the microwave, necessitating extinguishing the flaming slag-heap of what was once a sweet potato, and throwing open all the windows to get the smoke out of the house.

Upon entering the sanctuary however, we noticed (by surreptitiously sniffing each other) that our whole family smelled to high heaven of burning yams! While no one outright asked if our Easter Dinner was burning, you could tell during the Pax that they all suspected something was amiss.

Other than being scent-pariahs, we had a great time. A bonafide orchestra (!) complete with 10 violins, 2 cellos and a bass sawed away with expertise, accompanied by piano, drums, guitar, and several trumpets in the back. The horns had some tortured moments during the fanfares, but everyone played with enthusiasm. The choir was outstanding.

We ended the day by taking Jerry to the airport for his work week in Southern California, and Kellie and I met niece Angela for dinner at the Whole Foods Market. Kellie even gave me a ride back to Queen Anne so I wouldn't have to brave the bus again.

Juli had a good weekend at work, thank heavens. Now that I'm back, we can start getting her ready for her big GI tests on Thursday.

Hieronymus Bus

2010-04-02T15:25:00.000-03:00

Take a look at the painting above (Hieronymus Bosch, circa 1500 c.e.) and refer back to it as I relate the saga of Juli and I on the #4 bus to Harborview Medical Center on Wednesday:

I figured out a direct bus route from Queen Anne to Harborview, woke Juli ("we have to catch a bus in 20 minutes!"), and we hoofed up to the Metro Market. We took two seats near the middle of the bus. Imagine my chagrin as we wound around the back side of Queen Anne hill and ended up on 3rd street, about 15 minutes later than if we had taken the usual #2 or #13! I was about to do a major mea culpa to Juli on how stupid I was to have routed us on the #4, when the next passenger came aboard with a fake bus pass. Or was it expired? In any case, the bus driver told him that he couldn't get on, and instead, he blew her off and strode down the aisle to take a seat. It was an omen of greater outrages to come.

At Third & Pine, the unwashed masses crammed aboard, filling the bus to capacity in the aisles, complete with many pieces of luggage, including a man with a bucket of cat litter on a wheeled cart (what?), and a screaming fight broke out between two women in the back.

"Get your @#$%&*! hands off my bag, @#$%&*!"
"Who you callin' a @#$%&*!, @#$%&*! ?"
Etc.

At Third and Seneca, the bus driver had to lower the handicap lift, and started shooing passengers out of their seats to accomodate two wheelchairs coming aboard. There was an ugly, grumbling mood emerging as everyone packed towards the back even tighter. The screaming women-fight continued, and was now joined by a certified crazy, yelling at his dead father:

"Daddy, I know you're up in heaven with Mama now, but even though it's been three weeks since you died, I've got to tell you about the time I set fire to the cat..." Etc.

While this was going on, the wheelchaired passengers were getting on, the bus driver was struggling with the safety straps and yelling for everyone to move back, move further back. This was met with further grumbling, and people in the back started yelling, "No room, no room!"

It was beginning to look like we would be late for Juli's neurology appointment. At the corner of Third and James, eight old Chinese women, chattering loudly at each other in non-stop Mandarin, got on the bus. The bus driver tried to prevent them from getting on board, but they just kept yelling and shoving everyone tighter until the aisles looked like the proverbial sardine can. "Oh good," said Juli, "that was just what this bus was missing!" The bus belched, groaned and turned up the steep hill.

At the next corner, one of the wheelchaired passengers yelled that he needed to alight. The whole bus started chanting "Off, off, off!" The bus driver stopped on the side of the hill, tried to convince the Chinese women that they needed to get off so she could get the wheelchair out, but they refused to budge. The screaming fight was still going on, someone in the back started wailing that there was no air, and everyone squeezed even tighter, while the poor man in the non-motorized wheelchair struggled to roll himself uphill to get to the ramp, sliding backwards several times. No one packed around him thought to give him a helping push, but the man behind me yelled, "Lemme off the bus, you ol' hag!" Several other passengers tittered at this supposed witticism.

The whole bus was in full-fledged revolt by the time we got to Ninth. The man behind me kept yelling imprecations at the bus driver, ending each with "you ol' hag." The titterers continued tittering every time he said it. Up near the front, a woman was yelling at the bus driver while she was trying to drive, "I'm going to get you fired! You don't care about nothin' and as soon as I get off this @#$%&*! bus, I'm going to get your @#$%&*! fired!" The crazy was still calling to his dead father. The odor of Cat Litter Bucket-Man was wafting. The two women in back were still screaming about who had whose hands on the bag.

At last, the ride from hell stopped at Ninth & Jefferson. It was like watching a clown car disgorge an endless parade of passengers. Most stopped to insult or yell at the driver as they debarked, and the most verbal of the rabble kept up the rudeness instead of just getting off the bus. Juli and I could finally stand up from our seats and get off.

"Ack!" said Jules, "I feel like I need to take a shower!"

"I've been rolling my eyes for so long, I can't focus," I complained.

"I thought about what would happen next, " Juli mused, "but all I could think of was that the roof hatches would open and snakes would pour through."

"Well, thank God THAT didn't happen!"

We kept shaking our heads and sighing dismay at the complete lack of civility we had just witnessed. And to be honest, laughing at each individual piece of the nightmare we just experienced.

"The Cat Litter Guy!"
"The eight Chinese!"
"The dead-father man!"
"The bus pass scofflaw!"

When the nurse at the desk told us we were 3 hours early (I had gotten the appointment time wrong), we walked in the sunshine, went to the art museum and had lunch in the cafe. Her appointment was almost anticlimactic.

On the bus home, a couple of drug-dealing teenagers started arguing loudly in incomprehensible ghetto-slang...and then Juli gave a derisive snort and started to laugh. I couldn't help but giggle too. In just a few moments, we were both guffawing uncontrollably, holding our sides, gasping for breath, tears rolling down our cheeks.

The teens stopped their arguing to stare at us. We couldn't stop laughing. They got off disgustedly at the next stop, unwilling to share their space with two crazy-girls.

New rule: Don't EVER take the #4 ANYWHERE!

Success!

2010-03-29T12:46:00.003-03:00

Juli cruised through her weekend at work without any significant problems! By changing the way she thinks about her anxiety at work and looking at it as an opportunity to desensitize herself to the way her body overreacts ("I'm getting paid to feel nervous!"), she was successful in devising her own version of Cognitive Behavioral Therapy.

I spent Saturday helping Alex's friends Robert and Raine move out of their apartment. While I can't lift heavy furniture, I can (and did) pack a plethora of boxes. When more helpers showed up after noon, I bowed out and went to the movies.

The household is running smoother now. Juli and I are trading off with dinner cooking, I've got everyone trained to do dishes and laundry before both turn into discouraging mountains, and the trash and recycling are being removed on a regular basis. Tyra has a job, Kerne is starting a new job with his old employer this week at higher pay, and Juli is back to work.

This week we are developing an easy and manageable budget system together. The most usurious creditors will be paid off, and they can start to get back on their financial feet again. It's nice to know that all the mistakes Bill and I have made in our fiscal life now have the benefit of helping them avoid the same pitfalls.

My job here is almost done.

Normal Again!

2010-03-24T09:15:00.000-03:00

Juli's U/S showed everything to be normal, as well as all her blood tests. It is not Celiac, Crohn's, hepatitis or other liver impairment, or inflammatory bowel disease of any kind. Normal, normal, normal. Personally, I'm thrilled that it's not a brain tumor or any of the above problems. But now she is again beginning to question whether this is "all in her head," a product of anxiety and/or panic.

Having witnessed her illness first-hand last month, my mother-instinct still says that the anxiety and panic come AFTER the vomiting starts, not before. On our trip to LA, there was no behavioral trigger, nothing but happiness and joy at being able to go visit her Gran. She had a little cold coming on, and then suddenly the vomiting started and everything went to hell in a hurry.

She has been faithfully doing the exercises in the anxiety workbooks and following the Cognitive Behavioral Therapy guidelines, which is one of the only proven successful treatments in psychotherapy.

Here's one gem: "Write down all the things you are fearful of."

Well, let's see...I'll start vomiting and won't be able to stop, I'll get horribly dehydrated and will have to go to the hospital, feel miserable for days, and finally be let go, terribly weak and frail, and be tens of thousands of dollars in debt. Then I'll be fine for X amount of time and it will happen again and again.

The Workbook says: "Now that you see your fears written down, don't they seem a little silly? Isn't it unrealistic that any of your fears will actually happen?"

Actually, no. Experience says that it WILL happen, as it has in the past.

So, the CBT isn't working, because the reality is that she is physically sick and the worst case scenario keeps happening to her over and over again. I'd be panicked too. Any reasonable person would, given the situation.

So we continue on the ruling out of all the possible organic causes of her gastric distress. If everything continues to come back as normal, we are left with...abdominal migraine. It is very, very rare in adults, but Juli's Dr. Casabona brought it up as a possibility at her intake interview. It is a diagnosis of exclusion, (every other possible cause has to be checked and ruled-out), but not a hopeless one--it can be treated and even prevented, using beta-blocker and triptan drugs.

So while Juli gets discouraged, her husband Kerne and I become more convinced that an answer will be found soon, and her problem will be able to be fixed or at least controlled. We'll just keep plugging away until we get some answers.

Early Morning at UW

2010-03-23T07:50:00.000-03:00

In about an hour, Juli & I will catch the University Express #45 for her ultrasound this morning. Instead of the hour-long, winding about through Ballard, Wallingford and the U District bus ride we took last week, this baby will whisk us to our destination in a mere 18 minutes. I am starting to feel like a mass-transit snob.

Juli is on the schedule to work this weekend, and so far, is looking forward to it. Yesterday, Kerne's sister (and roommate) Tyra got hired for her very first job, at the Convention Center Subway, and starts training on Thursday. Brother Jerry also begins a new job in Anaheim, California next week. While I don't look at this familial microcosm as evidence of a large-scale economic recovery, things are looking up for my personal peeps.

Birthday Girl MaryAnn reports that it was snowing in TN yesterday. Because this is so unbelievable for March 22, she had to post video on her blog to prove it--complete with soundtrack of the spring peepers' cacophony in the background!

And Bill reports that the one-day sea trial of the OBIS revealed some post-shipyard problems, but that they should be on the briny deep and back to normal operations in the near future. He is enjoying his new job as the First Assistant, likes his new crew, and is dealing with the increased paperwork stoically.

Time to zip...

The Post-Party Search for a Bathroom...The Frye Art Museum...The Health Care Debate...

2010-03-21T12:59:00.005-03:00

The Friday night B-day party for moi was a fairly subdued affair. There was beer and food and music and many board games, intelligent conversation and much laughter. Hardly a bacchanal of epic proportions. At least it was until I went to bed at 1 am. Apparently, the party kicked up a notch when I bowed out.

I awoke around 9 am in the "snake room," noodled on the computer for about an hour and then puttered in the kitchen quietly, cleaning up some of the detritus. Around 10:30, I decided to take a quick shower before everyone else got up. Upon exiting the one full bath, it became apparent that there were about a million people in Alex's small house, all waking up with hangovers and full bladders.

First, Sharon slipped in quickly to take her shower. Ben awoke on the couch, and took over the small half-bath off the kitchen. Next, Nick and unnamed girlfriend stumbled into the living room, wandering around aimlessly. Alex appeared in a towel, looking for a spot in line. Then bathrobed-Morgan and Tyra joined the procession, pacing back and forth. Doug woke up, dressed and bleary-eyed, and took over Sharon's spot in the big bathroom by sheer size and will.

By the time I got back from the snake room, after packing the night's dishes, the board games, my clothes and books, they all had dispersed, presumably having worked out the bathroom dance without conflict or disaster. But I wouldn't say that anyone was especially chipper.

Doug offered me a ride downtown, as he, Alex and Ben were headed to their bi-weekly "Nerdhalla" gaming session. I was bound for the Frye Art Museum on First Hill. After a quick stop for everyone at the Taco Time drive-thru, I gobbled my chicken burrito as we drove over the West Seattle bridge and alighted at my destination.

The Frye Museum is a fabulous little gem of a private art museum with rotating exhibits, free to all. I was fascinated to learn of Tim Rollins and his K.O.S. art collaborative from the South Bronx, something I had never heard of. Many of the art pieces were highly political, but the unique visions, based on classical works of literature, and the textural nature of the big canvases were just stunning.

I then took a sunny stroll down to the Seattle Central Library and spent an hour reading in the public room, enjoying the light playing through the weird angles of the unique architecture.

Back on Queen Anne hill, I reconnected with computer-land, and found the most coherent article on the health care debate so far...I only wish that every member of Congress would read this before voting today.

Normal!

2010-03-19T01:28:00.003-03:00

Juli and I had an appointment yesterday with her awesome primary doctor. The brain MRI results were back and show only healthy, normal brain inside that skull. We are all very happy, even though it means that the search continues to be one of exclusionary diagnoses.

Tomorrow, Alex is throwing me a birthday bash at his house in West Seattle. Fun, friends, games and food are promised. I will spend the night there, and he has also promised Dim Sum breakfast on Saturday in Chinatown!

This is Juli's last weekend off from work, so we are all looking towards making it possible for her to go back to her job on the 26th. Hopefully with her current medications she will be prepared with a better attitude, less stress, increased stamina, better diet and the more regular sleep schedule she's been on for the last four weeks, to avoid another episode of her illness, whatever is triggering it.

More answers from her blood work and an ultrasound due this week should rule out another collection of possible causes. I am confident that the doctors she has now will eventually figure it out and get her back to good health again.

A Long, Tiring Day At UW Medical Center

2010-03-16T19:10:00.000-03:00

Juli and I bussed it to the UW Medical Center for her long-awaited GI consult this morning. History was taken, past test results were poured over, more tests were ordered and blood was drawn. It seems to be a matter of ruling out all the things that haven't been ruled out in the past: Celiac disease, Crohn's disease, IBS, all the different forms of hepatitis, lesions, ulcers, and whatever else they can try to hang their collective hats on. It is still a mystery until proven otherwise.

Jules is now scheduled for a visit to Dr. Casabona tomorrow to discuss her current situation and the results of her brain MRI, an upper GI ultrasound next week, then the neurology consult the following week, then a full upper and lower endoscopy with biopsies in early April.

The day was pretty well shot by the time we got home. We all napped. When Kerne came home from work, everyone went back to bed and napped some more. This medical stuff just wears us all out!

57? How did this happen?

2010-03-15T10:10:00.001-03:00

Happy birthday to me. Daughter Juli says that getting old is the BEST one can hope for, so I'll dispense with the whining and be thankful for this milestone. In reality, I'm only one day older than yesterday.

But sometimes the fact that I'm this "old" is a shocker. The other night at dinner, I was relating a story about being 10 years old the day President Kennedy was assassinated and the faces around the table were akin to listening to a first-hand account of the Civil War from a grizzled, ancient veteran. They learned this stuff from history books, for heaven's sake; how could someone be so old as to remember it personally?

And I don't feel all that old. Okay, I've got aches and pains getting out of bed in the morning, memory lapses (that correct themselves, given a few days), gray hair and wrinkles, calluses and age spots. But I lack the wisdom and perspective and grace and kindness that I associate with venerable age. Inside, it still feels like a hungry quest for knowledge and understanding. I have not yet arrived. I'm still trying to figure it all out.

I refuse to join AARP (hate their politics). I'll probably never collect a dime from Social Security, given the spendthrifts in Congress and their asinine fiscal irresponsibility. As long as I stay away from mirrors, I can move through my days thinking I'm about 22 and my whole life is still ahead of me.

Dishes & Laundry

2010-03-13T10:59:00.002-04:00

There is a quote from Shakespeare that goes something like "War and lechery, war and lechery, nothing else holds fashion."

Substitute dishes and laundry for war and lechery, and that pretty much sums up everyday life for everyone. I used to mumble this phrase like a mantra as I slogged through housewifery chores for 30+ years.

The fact that we are dealing with the mundane details of running a household is a blessing, instead of fretting hourly about getting enough fluids into Juli. We have progressed so much that now I grouse about the trivial.

It's Saturday, and the dishes are done; the laundry is going round and round downstairs. Later, Juli and I will take a walk up to the drugstore for a few necessities. There's a big week coming up (MRI results and GI consult on Tuesday), but we'll have clean plates and clean clothes. Strange how the normalcy of such things balance the perception of the potentially traumatic stuff.

MRI

2010-03-11T09:06:00.000-04:00

No jewelry, check. No deodorant, check. Bus schedule, check. Ink pen, check.

The test-go-round begins today (at last!)

Then lunch and a nap.

Juli gained another 4 pounds!

Life is good.

Back on Track

2010-03-10T10:30:00.001-04:00

Everyone enjoyed their weekend--me in Olympia with my brother's family, Juli and Kerne in Seattle, blessedly free of other people.

Juli continues to improve, gaining another 2 pounds this week. Her MRI is scheduled for tomorrow. My niece Angela's freshman drama project opens tomorrow night, and we hope to attend. Friday night, my acupuncture guy (Mr. Smoldering Incense-Man) is holding a Qigong workshop and has invited both Juli and I to learn relaxation techniques "for increased vitality." Who would pass up such an opportunity? Not us. We are all about increasing vitality these days.

Juli and I have also embarked on a purely menial and practical project--painting the bathroom. I think in times of stress it is advantageous to have something mundane to focus on besides one's internal struggles. Painting fits the bill, and boy, does this bathroom need it!

Good times, good times...

A Brief Respite

2010-03-07T08:04:00.000-04:00

Since Juli has done so well this week, I decided to give them (and myself) a little break from the presence of Mother and Mother-In-Law.

Yesterday, I hopped the bus downtown and took the light rail to the airport, where Sister-In-Law Kellie picked me up and brought me down to Olympia for the weekend. Brother Jerry is at a conference until tonight, so Kellie and I had plenty of time to catch up and relax. It is great to be in my old stomping grounds from last year's wedding follies.

Niece Bonnie is also here, so I got some Auntie-time too. Kellie and I took a long walk with the dogs. I can't help but think of last year, when Echo used to accompany us on these neighborhood walks. I still miss that furry friend of mine.

Today after church, we will go to Walmart and pick up my prescriptions, shop for essentials and have another beautiful day in suburbia. Tomorrow, Kellie will be going up to Seattle to meet with her younger daughter Angela, so I will have a ride back to the city and dinner with the girls.

A Thoroughly Disgusting Day

2010-03-05T18:20:00.001-04:00

Juli and I were up bright and early (or early and surly, depending on your attitude) to venture forth to the Belltown Health & Social Services office. The website promise was that if one appears before 9 am, one can be assured of a live-person interview. Juli gathered together an impressive stack of financial disclosure documents to augment her previously-submitted online application and we bussed downtown.

Our first impression was positive--a clean, empty waiting room; helpful, English-speaking office staff. When she gave them her SSN, she was told that she needed to be in the office upstairs.

Another universe altogether: A very bad-smelling room flanked by glassed in windows; sixty uncomfortable plastic chairs, facing a ceiling-hung 19" television tuned to The Today Show; thirty or so gangsta-panted men of employable age and apparent physical fitness, sprawled in the chairs; little balls of white fluff, rolling lazily across the sticky linoleum floor, escapees from someone's ripped down jacket? Juli took a number from the dispenser: #39.

Occasionally, the loudspeaker would crackle and blare: "Twenty! Number 20. Look at your tickets, people!" "George Smith to Window Eight!" Behind me, a very stoned couple was giggling uncontrollably. In front of me, a hustler sidled up to the only other woman in the room besides us, with the tempting offer, "I'll give you five dollars to trade your number for mine." In the corner, a very obese rent-a-cop cleaned his nails with a file and looked bored. What looked like a drug deal was going down in another corner. Two young men hissed threats at each other. An old Asian man was popping pills out of a blister pack into a paper bag. I was the only person in the room reading a book, an amazing curiosity by the look of the stares I got. Someone slid up to Juli's chair and asked for her cell phone number. She just stared at him wordlessly until he went away.

Juli was finally called to a window. After about 45 minutes she came out to the waiting room and told me to go get something to eat--she anticipated being there another few hours. She had the white spots on her nose that she gets when she is close to being spectacularly angry.

While I walked out to Subway for a sandwich (and a bottle of milk and package of apple slices for Juli--I was worried about her stomach being empty), Juli was experiencing the following:

Her caseworker (name-tagged: "Ababa"), played hunt-and-peck typing with two fingernails, entering into the computer all the information that Juli had already submitted online four days previously. "How much do you pay in rent?" Ababa inquired. Juli pointed to the correct line in the print-out that Ababa was looking at. Tap-tap-tap-tap, backspace, backspace, tap-tap. "How many people live in your household?" Juli again pointed. Etcetera. Occasionally, Ababa would get up suddenly and disappear for ten minutes. At one point, Juli had to show her how to access information on the internet to prove that Kerne was no longer working at Rite-Aid. And so on.

When we met up again back in the bad-smelling cattle-pen of a reception room, Juli was shaking with fury. One more wait for a call to the EBT window, and we were out of there.

"I am so mad, I can't even think up a funny story about this," Juli hissed as we walked to the bus stop.

We went to Pike Place Market, met up with Christy at the Market Street Grill, and I bought her a piece of grilled salmon to calm her down. When in doubt, feed the baby. The upshot of the four-hour ordeal is that she qualifies for nothing but food stamps. Again, because her husband is being responsible and working his butt off at a $10/hour job, they are not "truly needy." Her medical bills don't matter. Their debts don't matter. The fact that she can't work because she's sick doesn't matter--she has to be disabled for a year before she would be eligible for any help at all from Medicaid. The only upside is that the denial letter will help them apply for charity care at the hospital where all her tests are scheduled.

I am again floored by these so-called "social services." Twenty-seven years ago, pregnant with Juli, I went through this same process. Sitting in a room with all these disgusting people, wondering if I was now, "one of them." Feeling completely degraded by the attitudes of the bureaucrats. Outraged by the people who were obviously gaming the system I had paid into, only to find out that when I needed help, it wasn't available to me because I was still trying to work and be responsible for myself.

Nothing has changed.

Finally, Progress!

2010-03-03T10:59:00.001-04:00

Things are starting to move on the Great Appointment Quest. Juli is scheduled for a brain MRI on March 11, followed by an appointment with a GI "Fellow" on March 16. The GI specialist that Dr. Casabona wanted her to see can't get her in until the end of May, so the Fellow may actually be the best route to eventual diagnosis and treatment.

Some of the best doctors I saw at UVA were Fellows. In my experience, they are young, energetic, curious, and uncommonly up-to-date on all the latest studies and research. They are still new enough to the medical world to want to interact with patients. And since this Fellow is working under the supervision of the GI specialist, Juli will have the benefit of two doctors working on finding the cause of her tummy problems. I am relieved for the moment.

We are still working on getting a neurological consult, but at least the MRI will provide some clues or rule-outs with regard to her blackouts and seizure-like symptoms.

Progress at last! It's hard to abandon one's native politeness and become a demanding "squeaky wheel," but apparently, that's what it takes to get taken care of these days. I don't really mind if they are getting her seen because they just don't want another phone call from me.

Whatever it takes, I'll do it.

Clumsy in Seattle

2010-03-01T16:14:00.000-04:00

On Saturday, Friend Christy and I made a trek to Target, purveyor of underwear and socks, shampoo and conditioner, chicken broth and noodles. I did the bus thing to West Seattle, where Christy met me as I got off the transport, so as to avoid my seeing her supposedly messy house. (I am convinced that I could beat these youngsters in a home-as-hog-wallow contest hands down, but I have to at least admire their shame in showing me their messes).

We first stopped at the local tacqueria for pre-shopping sustenance. I had a chile relleno burrito to die for, while Christy's carnitas and shrimp tacos looked pretty good too. Plus chips and about eight different salsas to try. Yum.

We did our one-stop shopping and had a nice visit, then took the bus back to the center of West Seattle, where Christy alighted and I continued back into downtown. Once there, I spied my #13 bus a block away, and decided to run for it, with my three Target bags in tow. I made it, the driver stopped and opened the door, but in my enthusiasm and joy at making the bus, I slipped at the top of the bus stairs, hit a patch of water on the floor and did an incredible baseball slide into the aisle. I skinned my left knee as my right leg shot out in front of me, heard the collective GASP of the other passengers, something akin to the sound the audience makes when an Olympic skater misses the triple axel - double toe loop and falls on her ass.

I was fine. Really. I gathered my purchases and my dignity and plopped into a seat. After getting back to the apartment, I started putting away my bounty, leaned over and went into a full-on back spasm. Rats.

For the last two days, I've been sitting around with an ice pack in the waistband of my pants. I can walk (if I "glide"), I can sleep if I don't have to turn over, and I can do most everything except put on my socks and shoes.

But today, I decided to seek assistance. I called around and found an acupuncturist two blocks away from the apartment who would take me at 1 pm. I'm not sure why I decided acupuncture instead of chiropractic, I just did.

This treatment was completely different than my Tennessee acupuncture experiences. After explaining why I was there, I disrobed and hoisted myself into a heated bed with flannel sheets. Mr Acupuncture came in and applied pressure to points in my back, then had me sit up while he placed smoking balls of some kind of herb (yes, burning and smoking) to various places on my back and on my wrists. My job was to tell him when it felt hot, so he could pluck the smoldering material off my skin, stick a needle in and quickly remove it!

When he asked how I felt, the only thing I could think to say was "like an incense holder? Like a pincushion?"

Totally, utterly weird. Let me be the first to say, if I wasn't in pain and this silliness didn't actually work, I wouldn't give these people the time of day. There was a lot of blah-de-blah about adjusting my "Qi" and letting my body heal itself, but the bottom line was that I walked away without pain, and am once again moving like a normal person, without having to wear ice in my pants.

***********

We continue our ongoing efforts to get Juli the appointments she needs. She is gradually eating more and has had no further stomach or anxiety problems. (Fingers crossed here).