Dumfounded and Disappointed

To my immediate right is a content Odin - our one-eyed pirate cat.  Off in the distance, and high in the cat tower, is a blissfully snoozing Simon.  He is a little put off with me since I have twice now evicted his treefrog girlfriend.  That in itself is a long story, so we'll save that for another time.

You're sharp if you've noticed the odd time and date of this particular post.  If it didn't dawn on you that I penned it during work hours on a work day, don't feel badly about your sad powers of observation.  

No, I am not playing 'hooky,' per se', but I am using a little PTO because my hip pain has actually caused me to call out "uncle!" for the first time.  Not responding to the pain meds as I would expect...and I could only imagine my worthlessness in trying to work this morning, all the while praying to find a comfortable position to sit or stand in at my desk to get through the day.  And then there are the endless inspections and sorts, reviews of returned shipments, etc, etc.  Lots of hoofing around, but thankfully less of the physically aggressive outgoing inspections of thousands upon thousands of cartons for accuracy and correctness and no damage.  Oddly enough, our customers really hate the incorrectly labeled and/or damaged stuff - go figure.

Anyhow, I managed to get myself out the door and into the car this morning, but found it impossible to lift my leg comfortably enough to shift gears without complete pain.  Usually, (lately) I've been able to get myself started on a drive to wherever and ignore the feeling while driving.  More like I can distract myself - to an extent - to get the job done, only to be further pained by getting out of the car once I've arrived at my destination, and hobbling around until once again crawling back into said vehicle for the next leg of the day.  So it's no wonder by the time I get home it's all I can do to take off my shoes and settle into a comfortable position until the cats need feeding.  

Yes, Hipzilla has finally taken its toll, and I can no longer ignore it or blow off the pain.  In less than a month I will be having hip replacement surgery.  Still wrapping my head around this thought.  As a child of the '60s this is not how I thought my sixties would play out.  

As I was saying, I was on the way to work when I found myself crying from the pain.  Crying!  I mean, I have cried a couple of times now, facing the realization of what is ahead, and I am not happy over it.  And while I am not talking about my mom coming to town to stay with me (for a MONTH) - hang on, I have to cry again - I couldn't believe how that took me over.  It sidelined me.  I had to pull over to compose myself and figure out what I was going to do; go to work or turn around and go home.  I pulled back onto the freeway and drove another two miles before getting off at the first exit and stopping to text my boss.  Then I sat for a few minutes before pulling back onto the expressway to return home.

Yes!  I came home to try another round of something for pain, and ice packs.

In the meanwhile, I have eaten my 1/2 a meatloaf sandwich and had a cup of tea.  I am now drinking a large bottle of ice water and seriously contemplating a bowl of steaming cream of wheat.  The ten-year-old in me seems to think this would be the best remedy for what is ailing me.  Can't argue with ten-year-old wisdom.

So, until I write again, I hope this finds you well and free of worries and ailments.

Keep it that way.

What a funny week

I finally took some time off - and I mean really took time.  Using the first of my accrued vacation days for the year, and had every intention to drive to mom's for a visit, but due to restrictions being lifted, and the influx of selfish drivers on the highway, coupled with a weekend holiday...it made sense to remain home instead.  Sad but true.

The first day of my self-inflicted furlough boasted a scheduled doctor visit (which was harder than hen's teeth to get).  I found one of my freckles had gone rogue around two - maybe three - months ago, becoming red and itchy, tender and flaking.  But what really concerned me was the way it mounded where it used to be flat.  It took a failed attempt at a virtual call with a doctor, and for her to realize I was saying I have a reason to be seen and not just virtually heard, that culminated in an actual face-to-face meeting...thankfully.

I worked Monday through Thursday afternoon, then gleefully ran out the building for a long, five-day weekend.  Yes, that's right.  I had scheduled the equivalent to a work week of days off, and whether I lazed them away, or crammed every nook and cranny full of needful activities had yet to be seen.

Here we are now exactly halfway through my break, and I can honestly say it's looking like a solid mix of good intentions has become 70% 'laze' and 30% 'gave it a good shot at accomplishment.'  [insert laughter here]  Do I have high hopes of bettering the outcome on the 'getting-something-done' side?  Mmmmm...I dunno.

Anyhow, back to the doctor visit.
After looking at the bugger on my forearm, the doctor shared my concern and decided it was best not to leave it in place.  He quickly set up to perform a "punch biopsy," and we got down to business.  The photo shows one day after the event.  I was told to change the bandage, perhaps clean it up a bit; no scrubbing, but a sudsy rinse, air dry and application of antibiotic ointment before covering again.

Mission accomplished.

In between the biopsy and this morning I bought a new riding lawnmower and cut 5/6ths of the front jungle, washed one load of laundry, cleaned a small section of the garage, searched the internet for stuff, paid bills, chatted with both of my sons (and my mom), and baked a bit.  I still need to get to the grocery store for cat food, milk, more flour, fruit and salad items, orange juice, and one or two other items.  Let's see how well I do today.

The end of this coming week will find me at the doc's office to have the sutures removed and (hopefully) learn the down-low on the creature he carved out of my arm.  This particular morning began dark and wet, but the sun is currently shining and I see no reason not to try and free up more space on the garage floor - do you?  But first I believe I will look at the weather forecast to see if it's changed for the better or stayed the same.

What are you up to today?

Life goes on

When this whole quarantine thing began I made the choice to send Karl away - in the off-chance I really did come in to contact with someone who really had the virus, I would not be endangering him.  With his asthma (and the double heart infection a few years back), there were no two ways about it.  He could not remain here with me being out and about.

The kid has been holed up with his father for two months.  At the time, he was not happy in the least, and refused to pack more than two of anything (underwear, t-shirts, night clothes, etc.), thinking there would be a quick determination that everything would be a fast whirlwind of activity and panic, then all would return to a scary sort of normal.  Well, we all know how this has gone, don't we.

After all of these weeks, he's still not happy, but he's not as sour over it any longer, either.  Every so often I will make the drive to visit and drop off banana bread or dinner dishes (because there isn't a whole lot of home cooking going on there), spare clothes (which he turned out to be truly grateful for), his desk chair, an Easter basket, books, his favorite tea; you know, basic POW packages but with an additional pay-off.

I miss him.  So when I take him something, I cash get to in, too.  Just seeing him replenishes my lonely heart.  On my last trek I took banana bread (two loaves they could share), tea, fig newtons and a hug!  Yup, we did - and he initiated it!  And what's more amazing, he has lost some weight - quite a bit from the way his pants were cinched and pleated.  He doesn't think so, and somehow he's not feeling it...but he looks so good.  This has been a Covid blessing, and I couldn't be happier.

Of course, it will be wonderful to have him back home - when it's safe - but for now it's pretty good.  Life goes on and we will be back to all things normal eventually.

Normalcy?

I will be returning to work on the third of June, whether I feel up to it or not.  Been sitting (and lying) with my eyes closed - or open '...but not engaged in any activity requiring them to focus or concentrate' for the better part of the last two weeks.

Can you say boring?

Headaches, double-vision, and naps have been near-constant companions, and I believe returning to work so quickly after leaving the hospital was a mistake.  Two full days of staring at and comparing numbers on labels, and working at my computer, did more harm than good.  No job is worth my vision, it is too precious to lose.

Contrary to popular belief, this was not a vacation, it was a period of recuperation - and no, I am not fully functional.  I am now instructed by the GP to begin weaning myself back on to a diet of eyes open, looking at the telly, reading a book, and using my PC to answer email, etc., to get my eyes used to what is to come after a long break from use.

Holy crap, people, take care of your health.  Oh, and is there anyone out there on Atorvistatin?  Are you experiencing any issues while taking the medication?  I have to admit I feel a little ill at ease at the thought of taking it once I read all of the possible side effects.

Well, that's me, then

May 19th... the day I had my heart attack.  The day my unstable angina sat up and proclaimed its power.  It was rude and sneaky and surprising, and not my favorite way to spend a morning - or that night - and on into the next day.

Once I arrived at the ER, blood was drawn to measure troponin levels, and that carried on every few hours.  Yes, every few hours throughout the remainder of the day AND all that night.  I must admit to having a favorite phlebotomist through it all, though; I detested when her shift ended and the replacement appeared.  Even when the preferred vein closed down and she had to move to a new location, Elizabeta made the procedure a piece of cake.  The replacement was horrible, and created way more holes than she ever managed to siphon blood from.

Ah, well.  Water under the bridge.

When I fell, though, at home (I passed out trying to walk to the living room), Karl did his best to keep me from hitting the floor (no mean feat, that).  I managed to hit my head twice, however. 

The first blow resulted from a rollicking bounce - I impacted his bedroom door frame with my left shoulder, then slammed backwards unexpectedly into the other side of the frame... and met that with my head.  Karl's description of what happened immediately after is a little chaotic, but he says I continued to shuffle forward, becoming more and more wobbly.

Somehow the migration to the front room carried on in a somewhat forward fashion, until I seemed to crumple in his arms.  Karl said he heard what he took for snoring coming from me, until he smelled something like vomit and realized my head was bent in an uncomfortable angle to my neck and shoulders.  That's when I slipped through his arms and 'found' the floor.  Yup, you guessed it, my head hit another wooden surface, and Karl needlessly apologized several times (after I came to) for that accident.  He tried to soften the blow, but I was a lot of human heading to the ground with gravity on my side.

Soon enough he realized I wasn't breathing "well," and forcefully jerked me to a sitting position when rolling me to my side didn't work.  It wasn't long thereafter that I came to and we discussed what had just happened... because I 'wasn't there'.

Just so you know, I don't hold Karl responsible in any way for the concussion - which went undiagnosed by the ER team - and everyone on the Cardiac Unit - despite my descriptions of the bizarre auditory occurrence (thousands of locusts loudly buzzing... while on fire), the louder than usual ringing in my ears, the non-stop headache, the room pitching madly whilst I am still, being light-headed, and a very steady double vision in my right eye.

You should also know this all may have happened due to a good deal of stress over the recent results (just the week before) of a CT showing an "apple core" shape in my ascending colon.

Oh, yeah, probably should do a little filling in.  Re-cap of the untold:
- Had significant, escalating discomfort for a couple weeks which felt like a hernia (not an unfamiliar sensation);
went to doctor.
- Told by physician it was not a hernia and most likely appendicitis;
was sent for CT scan to see how inflamed appendix was.
- CT showed long appendix, but no issues there (and no hernia); but
doc overly concerned by "apple core" appearance, so sent for GI consult and colonoscopy.

All of this had me on the edge of my seat - but more about the pooper chute stuff another time.

I feel God is using the universe as a two-by-four to get my eyes open wide, and to get me heading in the direction I have been side-stepping/avoiding/ignoring/wasting time by denying for far too long.  I can only imagine Him sitting up there, shaking His head in disbelief and smacking His forehead in frustration, while I continue to avoid my destiny in cunningly stupid, and innocently disbelieving ways.

Maria, we need to talk.  For now, I need to stop this typing and shut my eyes again.  I am supposed to be resting them to try and get a handle on the healing process from the recent brain injury. 

Ugh

I've let myself go.

Oh boy, have I let myself go.

In fact, I've gone, come back, and left again.  Go, go, go.  Going, going...GONE!

I'm wearing years of 'another birthday fat,' 'disappointment with life fat,' 'i don't have a full time job fat,' 'ouch fat (A.K.A. 'what is that pain - i can't walk fat'),' 'what the eff has happened to my life fat,' 'eat because i want to mask the pain of reality fat,' 'why is my bladder doing that fat,' 'why didn't i recognize that was God's sign fat.' 

You name it, the fat stopped here.

Well, after eleven years of trying, falling, re-inventing, getting back up and trying again, following the trends and trying, and falling, and getting back up once more, I finally found a full time job.  Or rather, the job found me - but either way, that's a BIG "thank you," God.

No, this is not me feeling sorry for myself, it's just the unbridled realization that I am so behind an eight ball with my name written on it...bedazzled in Liberace-style rhinestones.  Like a disco ball of ugh - swinging wrecking ball-like through my life - and I have a tracking device brilliantly embedded somewhere so that I cannot duck or hide, no matter how hard I work to improve things.

How do I make myself un-go?

Is there a way to undo the damage and get back to a good place, or do I just have to start all over again from here?  Really...from here?  Right here?  Really!?

Well, I suppose there are only truly two choices then, eh.  Keep loving the chocolate and potato chips, and all of the other bad things which taste so good and make me feel better, or confront those things that hold me back, make me feel scared and incapable and unworthy.

OK, this is me telling them to get the bleep outta my way!

But just in case, does anyone have a bag of bread crumbs I can use?

Months of discomfort (and healing?)

At some point in time over the late spring my left Achilles tendon separated (up to 80% +), and it has been a long road to recovery.  Trying to adjust my walk to allow for the pain, and to keep up with my work requirements, has left me with a rather annoying counter issue with my opposite leg groin muscle... and now, hip-to-knee musculature.

Some days I feel one million years old; as though I am made of stone.  When will it end? 

Up before the alarm

'Natch.'

Odin had been exhibiting signs of illness, so I took him to our 'regular' vet - the family vet we found at the start of the girls' decline in health as old ladies.  The office people were very kind when we had to put down Flop, and then Hobbes - I only wish we had been their client for Cleo's sake.  But all of that was eons ago, or so it feels.  It stills aches as though that was just last month, and since I am a soft touch, recounting all of it will most likely always move me to tears.

Anyway, the last trip I took to the 'family vet' late spring, found me pleading to have the tri-test repeated on Odin - the test which tells of impending doom (heartworm, FiV, FLv).  Upon adopting 'O' we were told that test had been run at the rescue vet office, and that he was free of all three - thank God.  After having 'lost' Jake no less than half a year too soon, I was not interested in shattering my still-healing heart again... at least, not right away.

A little history: 'O' was found in a field, frozen to a towel, starving, bald in areas, obviously suffering from fleas, and (as we've been told) stinkier than 5-day old roadkill on a 99*F day.  What was scarier was this semi-feral little boy had the imposing 'forearms' of Popeye, 9" nails, and a limited vocabulary consisting of "now," "more," and "%!#&!"   The latter we call his cuss word, and he uses it a lot.  He was in rough shape.

To complicate his hard-scrabble life even further is the lack of vision in one eye, missing teeth and, as we found out a couple of weeks into life with Odin, a definite digestive issue.  In short, 'O' was a hot mess, but he was our hot mess, so we set out to improve his life in every way possible.

Fast-forwarding 1-1/2 years finds Odin thriving and turning into quite the tremendously needy love bug.  Neither he nor Booker are lap cats (more's the pity), but they are wonderful lads, and good company nearly any time of the day. 

Anyhow...

...several months back, I took Odin to the vet, wondering about getting some answers and fixes to help him feel better for whatever might have been the matter.  His breathing seemed 'off' and was growing worse day by day.  His poops should have solidified after more than a year on medicated food, too.  And the smell from his mouth...what was that?!?  But it was his breathing that most concerned me, and mostly because Jake's demise was marked by a similar onset of frequent and worsening respiratory episodes.  Could we help 'O'?  Oh, how I prayed that we could - and quickly.

Instead of waiting five weeks for the first non-emergency appointment with our usual vet, I called the local Humane Society and asked if I could get Odin in to be seen any sooner.  Due to my new daughter-in-law working there, 'O' was moved up on the list quickly, and in no time we were in the office and speaking with a doctor.  X-rays were taken, blood was drawn - and most importantly, they listened to my request for having a repeat on the tri-test. 

It wasn't a long wait before the doctor was informing me of the positive results for feline immunodeficiency virus (FiV = kitty aids).  My heart sank.  The x-rays revealed no mass of any sort on Odin's airway or lungs, so the respiratory distress was all due to the FiV. 

He was prescribed a rather strong antibiotic, which made a huge improvement in his breathing in no time, and knocked out the oral/nasal infection in nothing flat.  Also, 'O's' lost another tooth since then, but everything else seems to be at bay - and so we take it day by day.  On the other hand, the antibiotic created a new problem in the form of colitis, and now Odin wakes with a scream and a start, having to poo immediately.  This is bad news for sleeping through the night and for the rug in my bedroom, but it's all doable because it means we have a little more time with our sweet diminutive weirdo.  For a good couple of weeks I'd been awakened way before the alarm - sometimes two-to-three times per night.  Happily, these instances have all but subsided.

Ultimately, my wish is not to trade one set of problems for another.  I don't want to keep the respiratory infections at bay at the cost of Odin feeling crampy and suffering from unpredictable diarrhea - that just wouldn't be fair... or kind.  Therefore, we will watch and listen to and care for Odin with every ounce of love and attention we can muster, until he tells us the time has finally come.  'Natch.'

Recently, Odin was started on a new prescriptive food, and seems alright with it.  While it took some time to get him weaned from the first prescriptive to this new one, I can finally say he is eating most of his meals each day - and that is a blessing.  The abrupt screaming poos are winding down, although I must remain on guard when he begins to cry incessantly, and wander from place to place.  Karl is not as attentive during the day while I am at work, so there have been many days when I've arrived home to find a secret, stinky gift from Odin laying in wait for me in front of my closet. 

Oh, 'O'!  I love you, love you, love you.

OK, I admit it

I am a mere mortal....

....and I am having 'back pains'.  [snare drum rim shot, cymbal]

At least, that is what the doctor (who looked suspiciously like a re-animated Walter Matthau) kept saying....

....since I am unemployed....

and have no insurance....

and therefore am beyond the scope of examining (beyond listening to my lungs, that is).

He was a frumpish, Oscar Madison clone.  The whole look - disheveled, unkempt, basset hound-faced, slack jawed.  Hmmm.  Perhaps that was a bit redundant, but he was so underwhelming in his medical presentation.  In fact, the only missing prop was the hallmark well-chewed cigar hanging from his mouth.

Dr. Mensch shuffled into the exam room a full hour after my own arrival from the exterior waiting room, muttered a well-used salutation which sounded no less like Tim Conway's "Old Man", and crossed the room to sit at the little area of counter used as a desk.  He had carried with him a laptop (along with a small mound of familiar-looking forms) and spent the first several minutes pecking and staring at it.

After an eternal silence, punctuated haltingly by the index finger of his left hand, he exhaled like a deflating balloon and abruptly grabbed up the pages of paperwork.  It was no less the dossier I had filled out and turned in from the waiting room, so no wonder it all looked familiar.  Dr. Mensch shuffled to the third page. A moment later he triumphantly announced, "Oh, that explains it!"

He apparently had been looking for my medical history in some online file, but failing locating my name, he decided to look at the provided real file.  "This is your first time here?"

The actual question on the form asks, "Is this your first visit to this office?"  I had checked the "yes" spot.  Silly me.

"Yes," I answered, still having no eye contact.  This was a virtual conversation.

From there, we had the same conversation I had had with the young woman who took my vitals (and made notes in what I assumed was my chart). Why was I there, what did I want to accomplish, etc.  In short I wanted to rule out anything scary, and move on to how to fix the sudden excruciating pain I was in.  He listened to my lungs.  He was intrigued.  He asked questions about my lungs - had I just gotten over being sick; do I cough up sputum; oh, you have asthma?

Cough.  Inhale deeply, cough.  Repeat.  Cough again.

Dr. Mensch asked me to locate my pain.  I reached for it, identifying its location precisely, and he 'poked' a little lower - by about 3-4 inches.  I indicated the source of my extreme discomfort was up where my hand was on my mid-back/upper abdomen.  He suggested perhaps it was kidney-related.  He sat back down and hunt-and-pecked.  Left-handed.  Using one finger.

But what about my back?  Would this be the source of my discomfort, from my kidneys to my rib cage?

Well, without insurance there isn't anything that can be done.  No tests, no xrays, no nothing.

But........he did have me urinate in a cup to rule out blood in the urine.

Wheeeeeeee.

As though he were trying to convince himself more than me, he asked no less than three times - as he exited the room like a sneak-thief - does you back hurt all of the time?  Does it hurt if you lay down or stand up?  And on and on - each time declaring blandly, "It's your back."  "You've hurt your back."  "I think it's your back."

But HOW?!?  If I wasn't doing anything more than standing - as I was doing just prior to the moment in time when it began hurting like a b*tch, for no reason - how do I prevent it from happening again, should this exquisite pain decide to take a vacation and completely subside?

Oh. My. Lanta!  Make it stop.

I admit it - it hurts.  But I've been 'there' and I've done 'that'.  So, can this move on to someone else now, please?

No doubt you've heard of the "Unibomber"

Well, I'm the unibrowner. Feh.

Things you can count on

You know how you can tell if someone is truly full of sh!t?

If they have had unrelenting diarrhea since the early morning hours.

Huzzah!

So far, I've managed to navigate the day without the aide of one throat lozenge, absent hot tea and honey, and sans headache (although I do realize I may have just jinxed that last one). However, I have used my share of tissues since waking, and am now ready to take a nap! Furthermore, I still have no rough draft to speak of for next week's comp class; I am tired of nudging Karl to finish his overdue essay for this week, and; have completed as much of the construction of someone else's quilt top as I have been asked to - because she 'wants to do some of it herself so she can learn how.' [forehead smack]

I can understand her difficulties with the instructions and methodology, anyway. The directions (as supplied by JAF for a quilt class project) are pretty piss-poor as written, and are very wasteful to boot. Due to my understanding of quilitng - and knowledge of piecing (even without directions) - I could reason it through fairly quickly, DESPITE the included JAFBS.

Wasn't easy to stop myself though, let me confess that right now, and it is a design I can see some merit in repeating in order to make several simple reproductions (with variations) in many color schemes. I'll be able to sell these fast little projects at farmer's markets (and the like) in the coming months...perhaps even rent a space at the local art-in-the-park broohaha late next summer! Scraps, happiness and cash - can't beat it.

Anyhow, I now need to begin getting ready to head off and teach a little applique` tonight. Maybe I should take something for a headache now - pre-emptively nip it in the bud, eh?

Oh, dear -

I think I've been fighting it for the past week-and-one-half, but it seems I've finally lost the battle. Whatever the 'ick' was that the boys had, I now am coming down with.

Ugh

Dropping like flies

The headcount of those ill continues to grow around the ol' casa, now numbering three-of-six. That's two humans and one feline to be specific.

Hobbes seems to have been the first one of us to fall, followed closely by Brian. 'Beana' (Hobbes to you uninitiated blog readers) is the eldest of our furry family members, and had a high metabolism which keeps her constantly hungry. Although, for all of the eating she does, she never tops anything more than five or six pounds on the scales - if THAT. Her cold keeps her sniffing throughout the day and night, snorking and wheezing; blowing little kitty snot-bubbles in an attempt to clear her nose. Usually, the snot-bubble events happen in the still of the night, as she lies next to me on our queen-sized bed - she, slumbering (or preening) at her pillow and me snoozing blissfully on mine. I am awakened at intervals of what seem to be half-hour to forty-five minutes apart, and then never fully allowed to fall back into anything remotely close to a deep sleep. She doesn't hate me, she just thinks it's amusing to play the part of the mist off Niagara Falls in my face.

A stuffy nose is no different for a cat in its discomfort or inconvenience level than it is for a human, but humans can adjust easily to mouth-breathing if we have to - cats don't like that practice at all. And Hobbes...well, Hobbes likes to share.

And her stuffiness makes eating a bit of a chore, too, so I am met with a lot of uneaten food in her bowl. Good thing her fluffy sister has no issue with poaching leftovers.

At any rate, Bud's illness began in the form of the annoying throat-clearing which only seems to raise my hackles - and my mommy alarms. By the time he was really "a-hem, uagh, a-hem, mgg-uaghing" enough to make me want to smack him with a two-by-four, it was too late to pre-emptively strike with Airborn or some other nip-it-in-the-bud OTC remedy. Nope, he was in for a bit of a sick spell; but it went from a headcold to his chest. Then that mucus-to-throat issue created vomit a-n-d now an ear infection to boot! Along the way, he also seemed to be bothered by chills and muscle aches just as the headcold appeared to abate, so I am flumuxed by this round of sick.

However, Karl began throat-clearing, drippy nose, and sore throat complaints two or three days ago, then developed the dreaded "D" yesterday, just to make it interesting. Last night he then began to complain of aches in his joints, a headache and chills...so off to bed he went!

The remaining two cats and I are keeping some distance where we can, and are avoiding touching tissues irresponsibly left around the domicile. Other than that, everyone is well.

Oh, except I seem to have a repeat of a nasty eye infection of my left eyelid - again! Second time inside of a month, and it seems to happen after teaching at the JAF. Gotta be kid cooties, eh? Hoping the swelling is gone by tomorrow, since it looks as though I lost a round to a boxer, and you can't put make-up on that.

Hope everyone is fairing better wherever you are.

"E-cigarettes" - c'mon!

Electronic cigarettes!?! 

Seriously.  Looky, world - a different way to enjoy your addiction to nicotine. 

Yes, it may be a somewhat 'healthier' way to imbibe in a tobacco-less smoke, but it still isn't sexy, nor has it been determined to be a totally safe alternative.

Try chewing gum and willpower, people!

Cooties're everywhere!

Got home a little while ago, after having spent the morning teaching the last of a 2-part class for children (making a stuffed animal pillow.  But not stuffed with real animals...that'd be cruel).

If you'd been looking in you would have noticed that these girls spent a good deal of time mining their noses instead of working at the project on the tables before them.  Every time I turned around one of 'em had a finger strategically placed up a nostril.  I was terrified to touch anything they had been working with, knowing full well I was going to draw back a handful of snot locker gems - whether they were of the crunchy or slimy variety.

I was squibbed out....feeling squiffy....nauseated....grossed out to the max....wishing I had rubber gloves.

I offered each one of them, in turn, a tissue - NOT the same tissue, mind you, and each declined saying they didn't need one.  Are you kidding me?! 

I just caught you (all) picking your noses, and you don't need a tissue!?!?  Are you sure you don't need one?  Do you WANT one?

The answer is:
Oh, YES. YOU. DO.

On the way home I drove to Kroger to return a brand new package of Thomas' Bagels, that amazingly were covered in mold!  Yup.  MOLD everywhere.  The sell by date on the packaging stated February 21st...so why are they moldy so soon?  I dunno.  I only know (and cared) about getting the refund.

Stopped into a Little Caesars to pick up a pizza for Karl and myself to enjoy as a quick lunch-like treat.  No cooking for me, and Karl would be satisfied and happy for a good long while (at least, that is, until dinnertime rolls around).  Hey, five bucks for a pie is a deal!

The young man greeting me as I stepped through the 'za-hole door was clearing his throat and complaining about it feeling scratchy "and sorta like it's getting sore."  [insert Home Alone scream here] 

Instead of high-tailing it out the door (as I probably should have) I told him to go home and rest and drink LOTS of non-alcoholic fluids, along with taking an Airborne right away, and taking doses of cranberry tablets. Not juice, but capsules/pills/tablets.  Ignore the label suggesting it's good for preventing/treating urinary tract infections, and start taking them with every meal and at bedtime.  Works like a charm, especially so if you begin when the slightest irritations show themselves.

For the mommying advice we were rewarded with a buttered and Parmesan-covered crust on our pizza!  It was extra delish!  But, now I think I need to go take some Airborne and cranberry supplements.

Ish.  :^b

A tad of this & a tiddle of that

Managed to finish another of the 81-piece blocks, leaving fewer than three to go before the miniature version of PQ1 is completed.  My hope is to piece together another full block before I fall asleep "at the wheel" tonight.  Once this mini top is done I will resume quilting Black Widow I, and go full bore on completing laying out and stitching the last quarter of a red, white and blue crazy quilt piece begun years ago.  Years.

Brian is still quite snorky and congested - head and chest - and has turned down a chance to work an extra shift at his beloved game place tonight!  Karl seems fine for the time being [knock on wood].  He is cloistered in his room on his PC...oblivious to everything else (as usual).

The girls are scattered around me, sleeping. 

I hear from friends once in a while.  Maria has returned to school, using the opportunity of a lifetime (literally), and by all accounts on her blog, she is loving it!  GO, MARIA!  We will absolutely need to get together very soon to catch up and look over one another's quilty things.  Jean is busy finishing up another semester of her radiology program.  I admire her tenacity, goodness knows.  Third time was the charm!

I read people's goings on through FB, so I see what I am missing (and NOT missing) around the mitten.

Well, I am heading upstairs to make a snack for the three of us; no doubt Hobbes' food radar will go off and there will be an extra (noisy) mouth begging for her share before I can clean the counter and put things away!  Dinner tonight is still a mystery, but most likely will include chicken since I bought some on sale earlier this week and need to use it up.

Enjoy your evening, and celebrate the fact that it's Friday once again.  Let me know what you're up to, too.

Uh-huh, that's right

Yes, I expounded on how I like my hot dogs prepared - what did you want me to write about?

Oh! What did you want me to write about? You know who you are. [squinty eyes in your direction]

OK, here you go.

Cleo was due for a hard day in the evacuating department.  That is to say, her ears were exceptionally hot, she was making frequent trips to the box - and straining - but yielding nothing beyond urine.  Yup, she was going to have one of 'those' days.

As much a hassle as it is for me when she is blocked, for her, it is tiring and excruciating and horrendous....and about 600 additional shitastic-ly colorful descriptives which would all mean rotten and uncomfortable.

I was settling in and mentally preparing for the familiar long poo day when mom called. 

While I was on the phone with mom, Karl came to the staircase to announce that he had wanted to go to the bathroom but that Cleo had 'used' the bathroom first - and had left a dash-and-a-dot and a puddle on the bathmat!

Yea! 

For those of you thinking "ew," this is a crisis averted.  Be happy for 'the pup.'  Her ears are cool and she is relaxed and chatty, so sincere prayers are answered. 

Thank you, Lord.

Once upon a time

There was once a period in my life (my entire life, actually) where I could eat anything I chose without repercussions - of any sort. But I suppose too much of anything can be detrimental in some way, eh?

Even if the item in question is usually suggested to support a healthful diet....for a woman......of. a. certain......age.

Yes, even pistachios. [insert sinister music riff]

I love pistachios, and they love me. However, more than a modest handful at one time (per day) can lead to...well... . . . . . . .

...mud butt.

Oh, my goodness

We are getting snow, but not in the way the prognosticators were hyping it. And quite frankly, with the lack of 'winter' we've experienced this winter, I am quite alright with this whole messy weekend.

I will, of course, have 'mommy worry syndrome' when Bud heads in to work on icy highways and back roads tomorrow, but until then...let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

Cleo seems out of sorts today, and it is oddly enough coinciding with Brian's latest kidney stone.

He began to see blood in his stream and experience the pain in his side yesterday, which heralds a new kidney stone. From this point it can be a few quick days or a week to ten days before it passes. Typically, his time frame runs about five to seven days from start to finish. I will keep you posted on this story.

Karl is well and helping out around the house - sometimes reluctantly (oh, who am I kidding? It's mostly accomplished with reluctance and mooing). But he had a measure of pride mid-week in stripping down his bed, washing the entire lot, flipping and turning the mattress, then re-making it with fresh laundry. He was very pleased upon crawling into bed that night!

Score!

Earlier in the week he nearly single handedly made dinner for us all, and that was another coup. I will take them where I can get them.

Spent this morning sorting through the online bookstore listings, pulling things that have too much 'competition' (from other sellers) and bundling two and three books into bonus listings. Sadly, this means people will actually have to read the descriptions to see they get quite a good deal for their money, but I truly wonder who reads anything any more. Most folks just go into an online sight looking at the prices, and not realizing that I sometimes sell two or three books with one title. [forehead smacking]

A seller is very limited in the way things can be listed, and therefore drawing attention to the bonuses is difficult unless the buyers read (the descriptions)!

I guess we'll see if the work and restructuring pays off. I would still like to list another one hundred or so titles, but I am currently out of space in the library to shelve them while they would be listed for sale.

Maybe today would be a good day to clean out my old script supervisor logs and get stuff moved out to the garage and into short term storage. Hmmm. Perhaps I could begin moving a piece or two (or three) of furniture in the lower level, and get that ordeal begun. Reconfiguring that space would be a boon, and would allow me to really shake things up upstairs!

Oh, to be moving forward again.

What are you all up to?