... if you were wondering, and thinking it is time for an update on the status of things in south GA. She has been calling me over the past several days, as confused as usual. Reporting that she is expecting to be 'getting out', and hoping I can come down to give her a ride. She cannot say where she is, to be able to tell where she is 'getting out' of. Or when this 'getting out' might occur.
Tonight she relayed that the information came from the 'Main Man'. But not able to say who the Man is. I asked her to get me a phone number so I could call and get specifics. But sadly, the Man is no longer there. I am nearly certain there is not actually a man who is providing her with information (which would be completely unreliable if it comes from her.) She was remarkably pleasant and unusually civil as she asked me about getting there to provide her with transportation. I was most willing to play along, after receiving so many calls when she was hurtful and hostile.
I have not talked to staff in the assisted living facility, so cannot provide any factual information about her status as far as settling into her present environment. I have been hopeful she would acclimate, adjust to being there, surrounded by staff who can comfort her when she gets confused, and be present when she thinks she is alone. In a place where she has meals provided, and basic care she could not manage on her own.
In the words of my cousin, 'more will be revealed'....
Monday, July 31, 2017
pulling weeds...
... is one of my most satisfying forms of therapy. I think pulling undesirables as well as digging holes is a great way to work off stress. Productive and harmless. A hard combination to beat. Gratifyingly destructive without actually doing any serious damage.
I've done more 'yard work' in the past two hours than I have accomplished in the past month. Partially due to feeling like I pretty much lost the entire month of July, having spent all my loose time (like loose change) in medical facilities of one sort or another. With The Man who was admitted, though he would not actually admit that he was having a problem of the magnitude worthy of admission as an inpatient. Between hospital and rehab, that was about three weeks devoted to sitting and observing, when I was not using employment as a distraction.
So nothing got done on the home front in the past month. Late this afternoon, I put my shovel and work gloves in the wheelbarrow and tooled across the street to pull weeds in the area around the sign at the golf course. I have not taken the time in weeks to get any maintenance done on my little planting project. Weeds have taken over, due to plentiful rainfall, plus consistent watering from the irrigation system.
It was mulched when I planted back in the spring, but lots of stuff was in the area before the guys spread the wood chips.Growing there in the mulch: sprouted weed seeds, crab grass, acorns that think they can become mighty oak trees, grass that has crept into the bed. I took my shovel, gardening gloves and pulled up the wee oak trees, briers, grass, smilax, privet, assorted mystery weeds. Had to quit when it got too dark to see, but feel like it was very productive.
The things I planted, most of which came from my yard, are doing pretty well. Yellow rose of Texas I got from my mom years ago. Stokes aster from a friend. Roses that have been blooming for weeks, though I expected them to die, when I rescued from trash at work. Some butterfly bush that has bloomed and done really well. Several crepe myrtle I did not expect to survive transplanting when they were unceremoniously jerked out of the ground. Colorful lantana I bought for pocket change on the discount table at wallyworld. Looking good, due to plenteous watering and a good dose of time-release fertilizer when they went in the ground..
I've done more 'yard work' in the past two hours than I have accomplished in the past month. Partially due to feeling like I pretty much lost the entire month of July, having spent all my loose time (like loose change) in medical facilities of one sort or another. With The Man who was admitted, though he would not actually admit that he was having a problem of the magnitude worthy of admission as an inpatient. Between hospital and rehab, that was about three weeks devoted to sitting and observing, when I was not using employment as a distraction.
So nothing got done on the home front in the past month. Late this afternoon, I put my shovel and work gloves in the wheelbarrow and tooled across the street to pull weeds in the area around the sign at the golf course. I have not taken the time in weeks to get any maintenance done on my little planting project. Weeds have taken over, due to plentiful rainfall, plus consistent watering from the irrigation system.
It was mulched when I planted back in the spring, but lots of stuff was in the area before the guys spread the wood chips.Growing there in the mulch: sprouted weed seeds, crab grass, acorns that think they can become mighty oak trees, grass that has crept into the bed. I took my shovel, gardening gloves and pulled up the wee oak trees, briers, grass, smilax, privet, assorted mystery weeds. Had to quit when it got too dark to see, but feel like it was very productive.
The things I planted, most of which came from my yard, are doing pretty well. Yellow rose of Texas I got from my mom years ago. Stokes aster from a friend. Roses that have been blooming for weeks, though I expected them to die, when I rescued from trash at work. Some butterfly bush that has bloomed and done really well. Several crepe myrtle I did not expect to survive transplanting when they were unceremoniously jerked out of the ground. Colorful lantana I bought for pocket change on the discount table at wallyworld. Looking good, due to plenteous watering and a good dose of time-release fertilizer when they went in the ground..
volunteering vs employment...
... not suprisingly, the non-paying jobs won out over the gainful employ. I went in to work this morning at 5 a.m. To leave at 9:30 and go pick up a man who needed a ride to get to his cancer treatment appointment at 10:15. My understanding was that his allotted time for transfusion would be thirty minutes, meaning he would be finished at 10:45, when I would drive him back home. Not enough time to do anything else so I planned to take my book and sit in the lobby, wait for him to finish.
I waited and waited and waited. He didn't come out, and didn't come out, and didn't come out. I finally went to ask the security guard to go and check on him, thinking: 'maybe he is sitting in the rolling chair and expecting me to come and pick him up at a different door?' After the guard left to try to track him down, he finally appeared: at 1130. I was pretty annoyed. But what can you say? Nothing at all to a man who is struggling with a death sentence, trying to delay the inevitable. Hoping to postpone his own funeral. He apologized when he finally got finished, and came out to the car at 11:45. What could I possibly say in response? "Oh, not a problem."
So that was my morning. Then someone who I know from master gardener program called to remind me I had agreed to help her with flower arranging at botanical gardens. Oh. Ratz. I got my patient delivered back home, and went to the gardens to spend two more hours volunteering putting flowers in vases, to decorate the house/homestead at the gardens. By the time I got back to my actual work, it was over. There I was, ready to get back to being employed, expecting to work several more hours. So I sat on the bench and had a visit with my pal, M., while he was on his lunch break.
A residual effect of getting up at 4 a.m., is the necessity of a nap in the afternoon. Just long enough to get me through until bed time. I came home from all that not-working/volunteering and had a little quality time with the couch.
I waited and waited and waited. He didn't come out, and didn't come out, and didn't come out. I finally went to ask the security guard to go and check on him, thinking: 'maybe he is sitting in the rolling chair and expecting me to come and pick him up at a different door?' After the guard left to try to track him down, he finally appeared: at 1130. I was pretty annoyed. But what can you say? Nothing at all to a man who is struggling with a death sentence, trying to delay the inevitable. Hoping to postpone his own funeral. He apologized when he finally got finished, and came out to the car at 11:45. What could I possibly say in response? "Oh, not a problem."
So that was my morning. Then someone who I know from master gardener program called to remind me I had agreed to help her with flower arranging at botanical gardens. Oh. Ratz. I got my patient delivered back home, and went to the gardens to spend two more hours volunteering putting flowers in vases, to decorate the house/homestead at the gardens. By the time I got back to my actual work, it was over. There I was, ready to get back to being employed, expecting to work several more hours. So I sat on the bench and had a visit with my pal, M., while he was on his lunch break.
A residual effect of getting up at 4 a.m., is the necessity of a nap in the afternoon. Just long enough to get me through until bed time. I came home from all that not-working/volunteering and had a little quality time with the couch.
Sunday, July 30, 2017
"choose joy"...
...is the wording on my bracelet. Narrow little strip of silver, with the letters in black. Telling me that it is a deliberate decision, reminding me to decide again, every day. A gift from someone near and dear, who saw it and reported it spoke to her, saying my name.
You can look at the beautiful, un-lived opportunity that is a fresh start as a gift, for you to see as a either bright and sunny or dark and dismal. You can see the hours unfurling before you as a road to be explored and path to new experiences, or a swamp of murky water, filled with quick sand, alligators, things that want to drag you under.
"Happiness is what happens out there, Joy is what happens in your heart."
You can look at the beautiful, un-lived opportunity that is a fresh start as a gift, for you to see as a either bright and sunny or dark and dismal. You can see the hours unfurling before you as a road to be explored and path to new experiences, or a swamp of murky water, filled with quick sand, alligators, things that want to drag you under.
"Happiness is what happens out there, Joy is what happens in your heart."
there is evil in the world...
...that is very alarming. I have been thinking about this all day long, while I was at work from 5 a.m. until about 3:30. I read a short article in the paper last night, which caused me to check with one of the daughters who keeps up with acquaintances via internet. I don't need to participate in facebook as I have people who will tell me all I need to know.
The news was several days old, so it has been out there a while. The story in the paper was about someone my family has a slight acquaintance with, who has been arrested for molesting young girls. Sadly, this is a man they know from years ago when they were in high school. He is several years older than my girls. He came out of an environment I would never have thought would produce a person who has such unpardonable impulses that he cannot control. I cannot even begin to fathom what would make a man do this. He has changed a lot of lives, and altered his forever.
I cannot understand. This is not something that took place in eastern Europe or central Africa where the news reports tales of men acting like animals. This did not occur in a third world country, but here in a place I thought was relatively civilized. I am so distressed in the knowing of this, and saddened by men who you would have thought to be capable, mature, responsible adults deliberately making amazingly poor choices. A man who let some bizarre desires take over his life and destroy his family.
Occasionally I will see something in the newspaper about a full grown man who has been arrested, jailed for attempting to connect with underage girls, and find he has been lured into meeting with an undercover law-enforcement agent. It is so tragic that there seems to be a constant necessity for 'stings', public safety personnel continuously making an effort to protect our young people from predators. All the while, I am so thankful they are there: monitoring, watching, defending and protecting.
The news was several days old, so it has been out there a while. The story in the paper was about someone my family has a slight acquaintance with, who has been arrested for molesting young girls. Sadly, this is a man they know from years ago when they were in high school. He is several years older than my girls. He came out of an environment I would never have thought would produce a person who has such unpardonable impulses that he cannot control. I cannot even begin to fathom what would make a man do this. He has changed a lot of lives, and altered his forever.
I cannot understand. This is not something that took place in eastern Europe or central Africa where the news reports tales of men acting like animals. This did not occur in a third world country, but here in a place I thought was relatively civilized. I am so distressed in the knowing of this, and saddened by men who you would have thought to be capable, mature, responsible adults deliberately making amazingly poor choices. A man who let some bizarre desires take over his life and destroy his family.
Occasionally I will see something in the newspaper about a full grown man who has been arrested, jailed for attempting to connect with underage girls, and find he has been lured into meeting with an undercover law-enforcement agent. It is so tragic that there seems to be a constant necessity for 'stings', public safety personnel continuously making an effort to protect our young people from predators. All the while, I am so thankful they are there: monitoring, watching, defending and protecting.
Wednesday, July 26, 2017
these are the ones...
... that are industriously plowing through my parsley plants. I did not know how to take photos to post, and just now, with handy-dandy tech. support able to show you the big fat, well-fed caterpillars.
I admit that I deliberately planted the parsley in the little planters by the front door for them to enjoy. And try very hard not to notice the nasty, disgusting quality of the hugely ugly insects while they are gnawing their way through this preferred meal.
I am not sure what sort of wonderfully beautiful butterfly will happen when the life cycle continues. If you notice on one of the photos, where the striped-y worm is headed back down the stalk, there in a little green chrysalis that is nearly the same color as the plant stalk. First time I have noticed this, and assume if I can keep a close watch I will see a butterfly. Not likely I can be vigilant enough to be there when it happens, but still, it's a pretty neat thing.
Tuesday, July 25, 2017
lost time...
... is irreplaceable. But we are not philosophizing today: rather talking about me causing the alarm clock on the phone to vanish. Which created excessive concern about getting to work on time. So very aggravating. It happened several weeks ago when I accidentally, unintentionally but yet very cleverly, somehow deleted the alarm function on the new confusing phone.
You know they persuaded me to go to the phone store and 'helped' me pick out a new phone that has about a gazillion functions on it I don't want, can't figure out, will not use. Then they left town, with me struggling to answer the phone when someone called. You recall my comment about it taking three days to figure out how to answer incoming calls? Very frustrating and stressful for the tech. impaired.
Then after I had figured out how to set the alarm to wake me up at some ungodly hour like 5 am or 6 o'clock in the morning. I went to set it to get me up in time for going to work and could not figure out where??? After more than several minutes of getting thoroughly irritated, I decided I could just go back and get the old phone, which I knew how to operate. So, of course, the battery was dead. And it is only good for 'emergency calls'. Which is pretty much how I felt at that point-exhausted and long past ready for bed, but unwilling to hit the pillow without certainty of waking in a timely manner.
I did find the old-school flip phone, plugged it in, and continue to use it for getting up on the days I am expected to punch the clock. Plus I asked someone at work to find the clock on the new phone. It all worked out - until the alarm on the new phone goes off at six o'clock every morning and I cannot figure out how to turn it off!
You know they persuaded me to go to the phone store and 'helped' me pick out a new phone that has about a gazillion functions on it I don't want, can't figure out, will not use. Then they left town, with me struggling to answer the phone when someone called. You recall my comment about it taking three days to figure out how to answer incoming calls? Very frustrating and stressful for the tech. impaired.
Then after I had figured out how to set the alarm to wake me up at some ungodly hour like 5 am or 6 o'clock in the morning. I went to set it to get me up in time for going to work and could not figure out where??? After more than several minutes of getting thoroughly irritated, I decided I could just go back and get the old phone, which I knew how to operate. So, of course, the battery was dead. And it is only good for 'emergency calls'. Which is pretty much how I felt at that point-exhausted and long past ready for bed, but unwilling to hit the pillow without certainty of waking in a timely manner.
I did find the old-school flip phone, plugged it in, and continue to use it for getting up on the days I am expected to punch the clock. Plus I asked someone at work to find the clock on the new phone. It all worked out - until the alarm on the new phone goes off at six o'clock every morning and I cannot figure out how to turn it off!
Monday, July 24, 2017
finally sprung...
... so The Man Who Lives Here is actually here again. He was paroled on Sunday morning, and came right home to take a nap. I had wondered if he would sleep well in his own bed, after being incarcerated in the hospital and then rehab. facility for over three weeks. Awakened so often during the course of a night, with people constantly checking on you, doing what they paid to do. Asking if he needs anything: my response would have been 'a good night's sleep'? Or checking his vitals, as if something completely unexpected would occur when you are peacefully resting.
He reported he did not really sleep all that soundly, but it was quite a treat to be in his bed, showering in the privacy of his own bathroom, knowing total strangers would not poke in, unannounced. Things are getting back to normal, or perhaps our 'new normal' is more accurate. He was told he could not shower for six months, but has figured a way around that. And had not been able to wash his hair in weeks, so has been hanging over the sink for a good head scratching/washing. Things are looking up...
He reported he did not really sleep all that soundly, but it was quite a treat to be in his bed, showering in the privacy of his own bathroom, knowing total strangers would not poke in, unannounced. Things are getting back to normal, or perhaps our 'new normal' is more accurate. He was told he could not shower for six months, but has figured a way around that. And had not been able to wash his hair in weeks, so has been hanging over the sink for a good head scratching/washing. Things are looking up...
book review: "The Old West Collection"...
...which was, as you might now expect from the traveler, on discs. Found at the library, a set of eight Cds, probably actually made to be heard on the radio. The kind of interesting, sort of off-center article you would hear on public broadcasting. Really good information, lots of historical research and fact-finding went into the writing.
A subtitle is "History on the Move," copyright in 2003 by Topics Entertainment. There were a number of different subjects covered, on a wide variety of topics. Stories about what pioneers went through when they began to move into uncharged territory in the mid and late 1800's. Excerpts from diaries of men, women and children who traveled west from well established towns and lives, to California or Oregon with all their worldly goods Conestoga wagons. Trekking over the Rocky Mountains, often caught by early winter storms, walking every step of the way.
Tales of the gold miners and boom towns. What life was really like when buffalo covered the plains, and Natives lived in peace, without whites pushing them onto reservations, and stealing their homeland. Hunters, trappers, explorers who spent months in solitude living off the land, seldom seeing another human being. Ranchers and cowboys who spent most of their lives in the saddle, herding stock and the long drives to get to market towns. Railroads and the men who laid the track, working in the harshest of conditions over the mountains an inch at the time.Women who were the backbone of their families, making do in soddy homes built of dirt on the plains, that gradually grew into settlements, towns as they grew from nothing more than a trading post to cities like Sacramento and Seattle.
The kinds of story lines so many of the movies about the west were based on. History of how we came to be a country from sea to shining sea. Well written, and beautifully told, thoroughly enjoyed.
A subtitle is "History on the Move," copyright in 2003 by Topics Entertainment. There were a number of different subjects covered, on a wide variety of topics. Stories about what pioneers went through when they began to move into uncharged territory in the mid and late 1800's. Excerpts from diaries of men, women and children who traveled west from well established towns and lives, to California or Oregon with all their worldly goods Conestoga wagons. Trekking over the Rocky Mountains, often caught by early winter storms, walking every step of the way.
Tales of the gold miners and boom towns. What life was really like when buffalo covered the plains, and Natives lived in peace, without whites pushing them onto reservations, and stealing their homeland. Hunters, trappers, explorers who spent months in solitude living off the land, seldom seeing another human being. Ranchers and cowboys who spent most of their lives in the saddle, herding stock and the long drives to get to market towns. Railroads and the men who laid the track, working in the harshest of conditions over the mountains an inch at the time.Women who were the backbone of their families, making do in soddy homes built of dirt on the plains, that gradually grew into settlements, towns as they grew from nothing more than a trading post to cities like Sacramento and Seattle.
The kinds of story lines so many of the movies about the west were based on. History of how we came to be a country from sea to shining sea. Well written, and beautifully told, thoroughly enjoyed.
book review: "Island of Lost Girls"...
... written by Jennifer McMahon, published in 2008. It took me a week to read, because it was on a set of six Cd's. If it had been a printed book, I would have been up all night trying to finish- it was that good, and hard to stop when I would get to my destination while driving.
I went to the library to find actual books and got a couple of talking books as well. There was something vaguely familiar about the blurb on the back of the case, and I wondered if it was one I had already read. After starting, I decided I had, but could not remember enough, so went ahead. As it turned out - pretty sure I failed to finish the story. What might have happened is that I got to a point that I knew things would end badly and could not make myself finish. Surprisingly I decided I would rather not knot than get any sense of closure with those fictional people I had so connected with.
The story is told from the point of view of one character named Rhonda, but continually moves back and forth in time, from her childhood with friends, to some of the same people as adults. There is a missing child from an abduction, done by someone in a rabbit costume. Rhonda reminisces about her younger days, spending time with a neighboring family that had two children about her age: Lizzy and Peter. When they were in their early teens, Lizzy disappeared, as did her dad.
You gradually get a really bad feeling about the person in the rabbit costume, thinking this might be someone who has a history of doing evil. Not sure who this incognito person is, but over time it is easy to make several assumptions as to who and why. The story often reverts to happy memories of childhood, when these three friends spent summers producing plays on a home-made stage in a wooded area between their homes. Recruiting neighboring children whose parents are vacationing in cabins at a near-by lake to fill out the parts of the supporting roles.
A really good tale. The sort of story that would make an excellent movie plot, with a cast of young people we would then see for years to come as they aged into adult roles. Recommended reading, whether you get a real printed book, or listen to the discs.
I went to the library to find actual books and got a couple of talking books as well. There was something vaguely familiar about the blurb on the back of the case, and I wondered if it was one I had already read. After starting, I decided I had, but could not remember enough, so went ahead. As it turned out - pretty sure I failed to finish the story. What might have happened is that I got to a point that I knew things would end badly and could not make myself finish. Surprisingly I decided I would rather not knot than get any sense of closure with those fictional people I had so connected with.
The story is told from the point of view of one character named Rhonda, but continually moves back and forth in time, from her childhood with friends, to some of the same people as adults. There is a missing child from an abduction, done by someone in a rabbit costume. Rhonda reminisces about her younger days, spending time with a neighboring family that had two children about her age: Lizzy and Peter. When they were in their early teens, Lizzy disappeared, as did her dad.
You gradually get a really bad feeling about the person in the rabbit costume, thinking this might be someone who has a history of doing evil. Not sure who this incognito person is, but over time it is easy to make several assumptions as to who and why. The story often reverts to happy memories of childhood, when these three friends spent summers producing plays on a home-made stage in a wooded area between their homes. Recruiting neighboring children whose parents are vacationing in cabins at a near-by lake to fill out the parts of the supporting roles.
A really good tale. The sort of story that would make an excellent movie plot, with a cast of young people we would then see for years to come as they aged into adult roles. Recommended reading, whether you get a real printed book, or listen to the discs.
Saturday, July 22, 2017
now that it is...
... too late for you to enjoy, is a good time to make a comment on the wondefulness of fresh, locally grown southern peaches. Oh, yes. When the daughter came to visit her dad, she stopped at a farm stand and bought a bag of ripe juicy local peaches. He did not want one, so I sat right there, peeled and ate one right out of the paper bag. They were delicious.
I always think of my grandmother every time I peel a fresh peach. They are so juicy and drippy you have to stand over the sink, to keep it from dripping everywhere. When at the peak of ripe, the fuzzy skin will easily just slip off the meaty part, with only the slightest encouragement. Leaving that yummy drippy mess in your hand for your taste buds to dance with delight. Making me pull up that mental picture of grandmother standing over her kitchen sink, dripping peach juice, and peeling a fresh ripe peach just for me.
I always think of my grandmother every time I peel a fresh peach. They are so juicy and drippy you have to stand over the sink, to keep it from dripping everywhere. When at the peak of ripe, the fuzzy skin will easily just slip off the meaty part, with only the slightest encouragement. Leaving that yummy drippy mess in your hand for your taste buds to dance with delight. Making me pull up that mental picture of grandmother standing over her kitchen sink, dripping peach juice, and peeling a fresh ripe peach just for me.
Thursday, July 20, 2017
more insect reporting...
... on a more disgusting note: all those big fat crunchy black grasshoppers I have chased and stomped in recent weeks. It is the season for reproducing. Most of the disgusting things I have seen, been able to 'out hop', jumping along, chasing them across the driveway or through the the pine-straw mulch in the flower beds. Doing the 'two-step', to get ahead enough to give a speedy stomp. In an effort to catch and eliminate from the planet. Most of the ones that have deceased with a very satisfying 'crunch' have been minutes away from looking for the perfect spot to distribute their nasty little eggs.
I know I have sent at least two dozen in the past couple of weeks to where ever grasshopper souls go after their exoskeletons get flattened. My dad was convinced they deposit there eggs in the dead leaf litter around bulb plants, giving the young ones a great place to start gnawing to fulfill their voracious appetites. Sadly you can smoosh 98 but if you leave one him and one her alive, you have not solved the problem of another plague the following year.
The really satisfying crunch occurs when you see the male atop the female and step on the two of them as they are enjoying themselves. Is this perverse? Probably. Is it gratifying? Most definitely.
I know I have sent at least two dozen in the past couple of weeks to where ever grasshopper souls go after their exoskeletons get flattened. My dad was convinced they deposit there eggs in the dead leaf litter around bulb plants, giving the young ones a great place to start gnawing to fulfill their voracious appetites. Sadly you can smoosh 98 but if you leave one him and one her alive, you have not solved the problem of another plague the following year.
The really satisfying crunch occurs when you see the male atop the female and step on the two of them as they are enjoying themselves. Is this perverse? Probably. Is it gratifying? Most definitely.
random bug reports...
... about things that I see during the few minutes I have been at home in recent days. There has been very little time when I have had the opportunity to roam around and look, see what's growing, blooming or disappearing as a result of being consumed by insects. That would be the parsley in a couple of large concrete planters near the front door. When I noticed the first of the week, it was nearly non-existent. Nothing but stems. Almost completely consumed by those little striped-y caterpillars that eventually become beautiful butterflies.
I had actually expected those wee little bugs would come along, and gorge on the decorative plantings, and mow the parsley, before becoming cocoons and completing the life cycle. This is the real reason I planted the herbs there, as I never ever use it in the kitchen, though it does make an eye-catching garnish. Plus high in iron, if you can tolerate the bitter taste on your tongue when you chew before you swallow.
Pretty sure I have taken photos and put them here in the past, but with the learning curve associated with the new phone, you cannot expect to see any pictures of fat little caterpillars here now. I guess the ones that are still tiny, barely bigger around that pencil lead got a late start, as some are as big as your finger. Wish I could remember what sort of butterfly/pollinator they will become, but that is what google is for, right?
I had actually expected those wee little bugs would come along, and gorge on the decorative plantings, and mow the parsley, before becoming cocoons and completing the life cycle. This is the real reason I planted the herbs there, as I never ever use it in the kitchen, though it does make an eye-catching garnish. Plus high in iron, if you can tolerate the bitter taste on your tongue when you chew before you swallow.
Pretty sure I have taken photos and put them here in the past, but with the learning curve associated with the new phone, you cannot expect to see any pictures of fat little caterpillars here now. I guess the ones that are still tiny, barely bigger around that pencil lead got a late start, as some are as big as your finger. Wish I could remember what sort of butterfly/pollinator they will become, but that is what google is for, right?
Wednesday, July 19, 2017
report on a bumper sticker...
... that is funny and worth repeating. I accidentally might have started myself on a new addiction, harmless enough: watching Youtube videos well past my normal bedtime. There is more than one video that has nothing but photos from around the world of silly, stupid, crazy, baffling and/or dumb sayings people put on their vehicles.
Disclaimer: I am related to someone who has the entire bottom half of her back hatch-back covered with bumper stickers expressing various, often inappropriate, opinions. Some statements are some moderately harmless, some that might cause fellow irritated motorists to take potshots on the interstate at 90 mph. I currently do not have any social commentary plastered on the back of my car whatsoever, but if I did it would be another one that says: "Wag more, bark less".
The one she read to me recently while stopped at a traffic light: "Make cornbread, not war". And the one she said she would like to have, to apply to her car, if it were not already covered in stickers and slogans: "I brake for Boiled Peanuts".
Disclaimer: I am related to someone who has the entire bottom half of her back hatch-back covered with bumper stickers expressing various, often inappropriate, opinions. Some statements are some moderately harmless, some that might cause fellow irritated motorists to take potshots on the interstate at 90 mph. I currently do not have any social commentary plastered on the back of my car whatsoever, but if I did it would be another one that says: "Wag more, bark less".
The one she read to me recently while stopped at a traffic light: "Make cornbread, not war". And the one she said she would like to have, to apply to her car, if it were not already covered in stickers and slogans: "I brake for Boiled Peanuts".
on the move...
... with a quick trip SC and back to middle GA. I had planned to go to Greenville on Tuesday to visit my pen pal, but when my life devolved into chaos for a couple of weeks, not sure it was feasible to leave town. When it seemed like having The Man Who Lives Here as a captive in the rehab facility, I felt it would be safe to disappear for forty eight hours.
Drove up to Decatur on Monday evening, to spend the night in solitude of the attic on Eleanor St. A great place to get a good night's sleep, although I am lead to believe some of her dependents have been begging to transform that space into their clubhouse. She reports that at least two of the feline residents occasionally demand to be allowed to relocate there for surreptitious activities, so she has assumed that the guys are making it into their private space. If they only had opposable thumbs that would allow them to open the door at their convenience, they would have taken over. Fortunately the cats still have to ask for permission as they cannot turn the doorknob on their own, so there is no immediate danger of insurrection. I did sleep remarkably well, but had set my alarm to wake early, and get out of town before traffic got awful.
Had a good visit with Homer, but he has had a small crisis that was really upsetting. He is 93, lives alone, and seems to do a fairly adept job of taking care of himself. Though he has lots of family nearby, he manages his life remarkably well. He had a driving incident on Monday, so the guy from the claims dept.was there filling out a form when I arrived. It was obvious that the accident had really had a profound affect on Homer - probably leading him to lose confidence, and have some doubts about his continued ability to drive and remain independent. He was not hurt at all but his car, a 2002 in excellent condition, was pretty banged up. I hope this does not turn into a big deal with his family.
After lunch and conversation I had planned to visit a cousin who lives nearby in SC, and spend the night, return to GA on Wed. All went as planned and I am now back in my own little space, washer running, ready to crash after driving all day: there was a bad wreck on the interstate, so I have been around by both elbows to get home. Hours later than intended, but without incident.
As I was leaving Atlanta, the lighted signs above the highway warned of a 'major accident' on the southbound lanes, blocking the entire road way. I decided to take off into the unknown, rather than sit in traffic for hours - meaning those same hours were consumed by taking two lane country roads, meandering through suburbia, farm land, places I have never been before. With my trusty paper state road map, and a GPS I ignored for miles and miles, it was definitely the scenic route. Safely back at home.
Drove up to Decatur on Monday evening, to spend the night in solitude of the attic on Eleanor St. A great place to get a good night's sleep, although I am lead to believe some of her dependents have been begging to transform that space into their clubhouse. She reports that at least two of the feline residents occasionally demand to be allowed to relocate there for surreptitious activities, so she has assumed that the guys are making it into their private space. If they only had opposable thumbs that would allow them to open the door at their convenience, they would have taken over. Fortunately the cats still have to ask for permission as they cannot turn the doorknob on their own, so there is no immediate danger of insurrection. I did sleep remarkably well, but had set my alarm to wake early, and get out of town before traffic got awful.
Had a good visit with Homer, but he has had a small crisis that was really upsetting. He is 93, lives alone, and seems to do a fairly adept job of taking care of himself. Though he has lots of family nearby, he manages his life remarkably well. He had a driving incident on Monday, so the guy from the claims dept.was there filling out a form when I arrived. It was obvious that the accident had really had a profound affect on Homer - probably leading him to lose confidence, and have some doubts about his continued ability to drive and remain independent. He was not hurt at all but his car, a 2002 in excellent condition, was pretty banged up. I hope this does not turn into a big deal with his family.
After lunch and conversation I had planned to visit a cousin who lives nearby in SC, and spend the night, return to GA on Wed. All went as planned and I am now back in my own little space, washer running, ready to crash after driving all day: there was a bad wreck on the interstate, so I have been around by both elbows to get home. Hours later than intended, but without incident.
As I was leaving Atlanta, the lighted signs above the highway warned of a 'major accident' on the southbound lanes, blocking the entire road way. I decided to take off into the unknown, rather than sit in traffic for hours - meaning those same hours were consumed by taking two lane country roads, meandering through suburbia, farm land, places I have never been before. With my trusty paper state road map, and a GPS I ignored for miles and miles, it was definitely the scenic route. Safely back at home.
Monday, July 17, 2017
a pithy quote...
...read someplace and thought it worth saving and sharing:
"Don't educate your children to be rich - educate them to be happy.
So when they grow up, they will know the value of things, not the price."
I've been pondering this in relation to the man who resides at 1400 Pennsylvania Ave. and the appearance of wealth, how that family seems to be so focused on acquiring and accumulating. Well... no... not so much appearance: he is actually wealthy if you are judging material things. Lots of close family, who are very much involved in all his activities. Plenty of property that provides a considerable income. More than he could likely spend in several lifetimes. Many underlings standing by to fulfill his every need and want.
Giving the impression to many that their primary goal is getting as much in the way of material goods at they possibly can, with no regard to the possibility of negative effects on others. The adult children and relations seem to have learned the lessons well. Quite capable of useing the many business and political connections to their advantage.
So many people in the world seem to feel that ownership of material possessions will create joy. The desire to have goods and financial resources appears to dominate our society, and the world in general. Stuff and more stuff. Just a matter of priorities, right?
"Don't educate your children to be rich - educate them to be happy.
So when they grow up, they will know the value of things, not the price."
I've been pondering this in relation to the man who resides at 1400 Pennsylvania Ave. and the appearance of wealth, how that family seems to be so focused on acquiring and accumulating. Well... no... not so much appearance: he is actually wealthy if you are judging material things. Lots of close family, who are very much involved in all his activities. Plenty of property that provides a considerable income. More than he could likely spend in several lifetimes. Many underlings standing by to fulfill his every need and want.
Giving the impression to many that their primary goal is getting as much in the way of material goods at they possibly can, with no regard to the possibility of negative effects on others. The adult children and relations seem to have learned the lessons well. Quite capable of useing the many business and political connections to their advantage.
So many people in the world seem to feel that ownership of material possessions will create joy. The desire to have goods and financial resources appears to dominate our society, and the world in general. Stuff and more stuff. Just a matter of priorities, right?
Friday, July 14, 2017
driving around town...
...in the past couple of days, listening to the radio. My usual choice is public radio, unless I am so immersed in a talking book, I am desperate to finish, find out 'who done it' or if they actually do 'live happily ever after'. But I got so weary of talk radio recently I tuned on down the dial and found a country music station to amuse myself. Only problem is that the commercial interruptions are incessant.
But this one adv. for I-forgot-what had lots of people providing hints for being financially sound. Sound bites of different voices, as if being interviewed as passers-by in the streets. Suggesting numerous ways to be a wise/frugal money manager. Rounding up and tucking the extra into savings. Getting in a company sponsored retirement plan where the money goes directly into savings before you get your grubby hands on it to fritter away. Having a set amount deducted from checking to divert to savings account each payday or once a month.
Then this one guy came on and his method of frugality was: "I try to live below my knees." What? Huh? How do you do that, and how can it be helpful for looking forward to your sunset years? Oh, wait. Maybe he said he lives below his 'means'? As in trying to be careful with expenditures, and n ot spending all his paycheck? Oh, riiiight.
But this one adv. for I-forgot-what had lots of people providing hints for being financially sound. Sound bites of different voices, as if being interviewed as passers-by in the streets. Suggesting numerous ways to be a wise/frugal money manager. Rounding up and tucking the extra into savings. Getting in a company sponsored retirement plan where the money goes directly into savings before you get your grubby hands on it to fritter away. Having a set amount deducted from checking to divert to savings account each payday or once a month.
Then this one guy came on and his method of frugality was: "I try to live below my knees." What? Huh? How do you do that, and how can it be helpful for looking forward to your sunset years? Oh, wait. Maybe he said he lives below his 'means'? As in trying to be careful with expenditures, and n ot spending all his paycheck? Oh, riiiight.
Wednesday, July 12, 2017
the trip to chik-fil-a...
... was only marginally successful. I went to get food for The Man Who Lives Here, when he was incarcerated in the Cardiac Care unit of the hospital. I will not attempt to understand or explain why his tray for dietary dept. failed to materialize. Most of the meals thus far had been whatever they wanted to send. He is not hard to please with food, and will eat almost anything. But he asked me to look at the menu, call and place an order, so I told them chicken strips. Which has not yet come.
The tech. kept saying poking her head in the door to say: 'it's coming, it's coming.' 'It's on the way.' After a interminable wait, I stood up and said: "That's it. Do you want your sandwich from Arby's or Chic-fil-A?" He said he thought a chic'n sandwich would be a good idea.
I went to my car, drove to the store a block from the hosp. and placed my order, as the drive through line would have taken until breakfast. Got my two items and hoped I would get back to feed The Man before the belated meal from the hosp. kitchen arrived. That meal I ordered on Sunday afternoon has still not come on Wednesday night.
When I opened the bag, I found his sandwich and my: not sandwich. I like the chicken wrap, and love the packet of avocado-ranch dressing. I got the dressing but not the wrap. In the same box where you can usually find the delicious, vegetable filled chicken wrap, I found a side salad. I was so hungry, even that was very good. But it was not what my mouth expected. So when I left there headed home, I went back by the Chic-fil-A store and said: "Can I pleeze have my chicken wrap sandwich now?"
Took it with me to work today to eat for lunch. It was good, even four days late. Which is still far better than the dietary dept. at the hospital is doing, if we were still there waiting for chicken strips.
The tech. kept saying poking her head in the door to say: 'it's coming, it's coming.' 'It's on the way.' After a interminable wait, I stood up and said: "That's it. Do you want your sandwich from Arby's or Chic-fil-A?" He said he thought a chic'n sandwich would be a good idea.
I went to my car, drove to the store a block from the hosp. and placed my order, as the drive through line would have taken until breakfast. Got my two items and hoped I would get back to feed The Man before the belated meal from the hosp. kitchen arrived. That meal I ordered on Sunday afternoon has still not come on Wednesday night.
When I opened the bag, I found his sandwich and my: not sandwich. I like the chicken wrap, and love the packet of avocado-ranch dressing. I got the dressing but not the wrap. In the same box where you can usually find the delicious, vegetable filled chicken wrap, I found a side salad. I was so hungry, even that was very good. But it was not what my mouth expected. So when I left there headed home, I went back by the Chic-fil-A store and said: "Can I pleeze have my chicken wrap sandwich now?"
Took it with me to work today to eat for lunch. It was good, even four days late. Which is still far better than the dietary dept. at the hospital is doing, if we were still there waiting for chicken strips.
Sunday, July 9, 2017
the other amusing thing...
... that has kept me smiling for several days was something one of the daughters self-reported. After their Dad was rolled off down the hall one morning, we all met in the parking lot of the local Sam's Club. I had to go and get some stuff to satisfy the Sunday morning coffee gluttons at church, where droves of people show up and expect their favorite ingredients to be ready for consumption.
We shopped and went through the check out, they pushed the goods in the cart out to the parking lot. While I stopped at customer service to re-load my wally-world gift card that I use at the pump to get a discount on gas. The cashier made a mess, and took fifteen minutes to get it resolved, while I was trying to look calm and patient. Making a concerted effort to not sigh repeatedly or roll my eyes in frustration.
Spent so long waiting for supervisor to come and resolve the problem, one of the daughters came back in the store to rescue me. Thinking I had been abducted by aliens, hoping to grab onto my toe and pull me back out of the black hole. What she said made me hoot with laughter. I chuckled about it all the way across the parking lot. And still thoroughly amused when I think about it three days later.
She came back to check on me and said: "We've been standing out there waiting on you so long, we were starting to bicker, so I knew it was time for me to come and get you." Thankfully she did not say they were in need of a referee, as I sincerely hope my days of having to intervene and be the negotiator are over. But, still pretty funny that she would recognize, admit, and be able to make a joke about it... Or maybe it was not a joke?
We shopped and went through the check out, they pushed the goods in the cart out to the parking lot. While I stopped at customer service to re-load my wally-world gift card that I use at the pump to get a discount on gas. The cashier made a mess, and took fifteen minutes to get it resolved, while I was trying to look calm and patient. Making a concerted effort to not sigh repeatedly or roll my eyes in frustration.
Spent so long waiting for supervisor to come and resolve the problem, one of the daughters came back in the store to rescue me. Thinking I had been abducted by aliens, hoping to grab onto my toe and pull me back out of the black hole. What she said made me hoot with laughter. I chuckled about it all the way across the parking lot. And still thoroughly amused when I think about it three days later.
She came back to check on me and said: "We've been standing out there waiting on you so long, we were starting to bicker, so I knew it was time for me to come and get you." Thankfully she did not say they were in need of a referee, as I sincerely hope my days of having to intervene and be the negotiator are over. But, still pretty funny that she would recognize, admit, and be able to make a joke about it... Or maybe it was not a joke?
the floors here...
... don't line up properly. Probably not uncommon with additions to buildings when more space is needed over time. But annoying to be continually going up 1/2 a flight or down six steps to get to the next level. The older/original part of the building is maybe three floors plus basement space, and the parking deck has ramps and slanted floors to semi-match up providing access. The new addition (the part where the hospital mysteriously lost 30 million dollars when they added all the expenses from contractors) is not in sync with the other parts of the facility. Remarkably poor planning on the part of the architecture firm that was probably paid millions for design.
Every time I come over, I drive into the lower floors of the deck to be in the shade. Then walk down half a flight of stairs, enter the stair well and troop up an entire flight to get to the place I need to be. When this adventure started, early on in the event daughter and I got on an elevator, but then could not decide whether we should go up or down.
Bafflement compounded by the elevators buttons being labeled as :A, B, C. As well as 1, 2 and 3. So when we ended up in the wrong place, I commented that I was confused by all this, and did not know which direction we wanted to go to get to the right level in the parking deck. She said: "It's not confusing, Mom. The elevator only goes up or down." Pretty profound, huh?
Every time I come over, I drive into the lower floors of the deck to be in the shade. Then walk down half a flight of stairs, enter the stair well and troop up an entire flight to get to the place I need to be. When this adventure started, early on in the event daughter and I got on an elevator, but then could not decide whether we should go up or down.
Bafflement compounded by the elevators buttons being labeled as :A, B, C. As well as 1, 2 and 3. So when we ended up in the wrong place, I commented that I was confused by all this, and did not know which direction we wanted to go to get to the right level in the parking deck. She said: "It's not confusing, Mom. The elevator only goes up or down." Pretty profound, huh?
Saturday, July 8, 2017
they were really insistent...
...and I was getting thoroughly annoyed at the exceptionally poor service I was getting on my cell phone. Plus everyone who saw it seemed to find great amusement at the antiquity of the 'old school' quality of something that was so rare. I recently read about a museum of technology that had the earliest versions of home computers and those huge twenty pound bag-type mobile telephones in it as examples of how far we have advanced.
The lack of service at home was so irritating, I guess I convinced myself. Partially due to no one else being persuasive enough to make me be willing to upgrade. I literally could not be in the house and successfully make calls - there was simply no service to be had indoors. Having to get up, go outside, and stand in the yard to make outgoing calls must have been The Last Straw. You know: the one that broke the camel's back, right?
When I grudgingly surrendered, and agreed to be dragged into the AT&T store, daughters took me in, and decided for me. If they were expecting me to be able to make an informed decision we would still be there. After talking to the service rep, they choose one they felt would be appropriate for the hopelessly tech-impaired mom. All my info. was magically, mysteriously transferred to the new Samsung phone.Even though there was much hand holding, cajoling, encouragement, positive talk, it was a difficult process. When they left town to go home, and I was holding this new improved version I did not want or know how to manage, it was 'me vs the machine', with Me feeling woefully unprepared for the challenge.
This happened several weeks ago, when the daughters were here for Father's Day. I am still struggling with operating this complicated item. It took me three days after they left me here unsupervised to find out how to answer calls when it demands attention. It has been up hill all the way, and a constant worry, not feeling fully trained and capable with this foreign device in my pocket/hand.
I was using the old school phone as an alarm clock, to get me up for being at work at 5 or 6 or 7 as needed. And after plenty of assistance in setting the alarm on the Samsung, I still did not fully trust it. After several days when it proved to be reliable, I accidentally deleted the app. so there was no alarm at all when I tried to set it before going to bed. In a panic mode, I scrambled around and found the old phone (the one designed for the simple-minded!), hoping to use it for getting up and out the door on time. As you might expect, the battery was very dead. But I plugged it in, and it worked. The screen says, every time I go to set the alarm: For Emergency Calls Only. Which suits me perfectly - my emergency was not having a reliable wake up call, when it vanished from the Samsung.
I am more than willing to ask young people for assistance with things that confound me. Have taken my computer into work more than once to ask kids to help me resolve a problem. Knowing they were born with technology in their hands, and take the ability to work with the mystery of micro-chips in stride. So I asked someone half my age at work to find my alarm clock, and he was handing it back in less than a minute. I still don't trust it completely, so will continue to keep the wee little flip phone at my bedside to chirp at me in the mornings.
You have no idea how impressed I was with myself when I found the calculator yesterday, giving me the ability to add and multiply. I am the one who readily confessed to be hopelessly math-impaired. Even with a device that does the figuring for me, I can add a column of numbers three times and get four different sums. In all honesty, I don't know how I found the calculator on the Samsung, and could only hope to find it again, if needed - but I am gaining confidence, and learning to adapt.
The lack of service at home was so irritating, I guess I convinced myself. Partially due to no one else being persuasive enough to make me be willing to upgrade. I literally could not be in the house and successfully make calls - there was simply no service to be had indoors. Having to get up, go outside, and stand in the yard to make outgoing calls must have been The Last Straw. You know: the one that broke the camel's back, right?
When I grudgingly surrendered, and agreed to be dragged into the AT&T store, daughters took me in, and decided for me. If they were expecting me to be able to make an informed decision we would still be there. After talking to the service rep, they choose one they felt would be appropriate for the hopelessly tech-impaired mom. All my info. was magically, mysteriously transferred to the new Samsung phone.Even though there was much hand holding, cajoling, encouragement, positive talk, it was a difficult process. When they left town to go home, and I was holding this new improved version I did not want or know how to manage, it was 'me vs the machine', with Me feeling woefully unprepared for the challenge.
This happened several weeks ago, when the daughters were here for Father's Day. I am still struggling with operating this complicated item. It took me three days after they left me here unsupervised to find out how to answer calls when it demands attention. It has been up hill all the way, and a constant worry, not feeling fully trained and capable with this foreign device in my pocket/hand.
I was using the old school phone as an alarm clock, to get me up for being at work at 5 or 6 or 7 as needed. And after plenty of assistance in setting the alarm on the Samsung, I still did not fully trust it. After several days when it proved to be reliable, I accidentally deleted the app. so there was no alarm at all when I tried to set it before going to bed. In a panic mode, I scrambled around and found the old phone (the one designed for the simple-minded!), hoping to use it for getting up and out the door on time. As you might expect, the battery was very dead. But I plugged it in, and it worked. The screen says, every time I go to set the alarm: For Emergency Calls Only. Which suits me perfectly - my emergency was not having a reliable wake up call, when it vanished from the Samsung.
I am more than willing to ask young people for assistance with things that confound me. Have taken my computer into work more than once to ask kids to help me resolve a problem. Knowing they were born with technology in their hands, and take the ability to work with the mystery of micro-chips in stride. So I asked someone half my age at work to find my alarm clock, and he was handing it back in less than a minute. I still don't trust it completely, so will continue to keep the wee little flip phone at my bedside to chirp at me in the mornings.
You have no idea how impressed I was with myself when I found the calculator yesterday, giving me the ability to add and multiply. I am the one who readily confessed to be hopelessly math-impaired. Even with a device that does the figuring for me, I can add a column of numbers three times and get four different sums. In all honesty, I don't know how I found the calculator on the Samsung, and could only hope to find it again, if needed - but I am gaining confidence, and learning to adapt.
Friday, July 7, 2017
a productive day...
...wherein, thanks to my BFF, I got the huge onus of an oncoming deadline dealt with, removed from my life. My smart friend, who worked for years in civil service, as well as in the private sector has also been tax prep. volunteer for AARP. So very knowledgeable about financial stuff, and remarkably good with numbers, with a brain that seems to be wired vastly differently from mine that is acutely and chronically math impaired.
In accepting responsibility for the auntie, I found I had agreed to provide a great deal of information about her financial status. She has been profoundly unwilling to share personal information with family members when we have offered assistance. Quite adept at changing the topic of conversation, as well as very secretive. Fully capable over her life of managing her own affairs, until suddenly: she wasn't.
As a result of being named as guardian, who is responsible for her general physical care, health, well being, I am charged with reporting to the court periodically providing assessments for her condition and living arrangements. Another facet is being accountable for her resources: various incomes, property management, and dispensing funds to cover expenses. It has been a challenge to get information together, but most people have been willing to provide necessary documentation after receiving a copy of the probate court order.
The BFF, PC, had offered to help, willing to wade through the legal terminology and help me decipher the language to complete paperwork required by the courts. We spent hours today filling in the blanks, completing the forms to submit. I finally got to the point that I called the attorney and said: "I am sending all this to you. I will complete all I can, but I need for you to take over, put it together and submit".
Made copies, stuffed it in the envelope, and went to stand in line at the PO. Sent it off, and felt a huge weight lifted from my shoulders. Thank You, PC. I could not have possibly done it without you.
In accepting responsibility for the auntie, I found I had agreed to provide a great deal of information about her financial status. She has been profoundly unwilling to share personal information with family members when we have offered assistance. Quite adept at changing the topic of conversation, as well as very secretive. Fully capable over her life of managing her own affairs, until suddenly: she wasn't.
As a result of being named as guardian, who is responsible for her general physical care, health, well being, I am charged with reporting to the court periodically providing assessments for her condition and living arrangements. Another facet is being accountable for her resources: various incomes, property management, and dispensing funds to cover expenses. It has been a challenge to get information together, but most people have been willing to provide necessary documentation after receiving a copy of the probate court order.
The BFF, PC, had offered to help, willing to wade through the legal terminology and help me decipher the language to complete paperwork required by the courts. We spent hours today filling in the blanks, completing the forms to submit. I finally got to the point that I called the attorney and said: "I am sending all this to you. I will complete all I can, but I need for you to take over, put it together and submit".
Made copies, stuffed it in the envelope, and went to stand in line at the PO. Sent it off, and felt a huge weight lifted from my shoulders. Thank You, PC. I could not have possibly done it without you.
how's the patient...
...you may ask? Much improved would be the answer, from observers as well as the person who is actually incarcerated, tied to the IV pole. It has truly been an experience. I don't think I know anyone who has, with good health, deliberately chosen to be admitted to the hospital and subjected to all the poking and prodding, waking up throughout the night to be checked on. Obviously only happens out of necessity.
This guy has a multiplicity of health issues, all affecting and compounding other problems that did not need any additional complicating factors. In this case, having doctors recommending increasing dosage of diuretic to reduce fluid levels,while also dealing with markedly poor kidney function that could not keep up with demand for greater production. The kind of thing you see in science fiction movies about space travel when the red lights are flashing and bells start dinging, warning about 'systems failure'. Decreased function of one affects ability of others to perform, resulting in the entire balance getting out of whack and being overwhelmed.
The subject in question was badgered, oh, sorry 'persuaded' under duress to go to the ER. We all knew if he would just agree to go, they would insist on admitting him, realizing there was a true crisis occurring. Sure enough, the PA said: 'you are having a emergency', and started the process to get him into an air conditioned gown. That was a week ago: last Friday, and here we are at Friday again.
He is really doing much better. But it has taken three days of dialysis to get here. And another scheduled for tomorrow. Which, according to the multiple experts who have been through over the days, is pretty unusual: four days in a row. Obviously needed to try to get him back as close to normal as possible. Thereby easing the stress on various organs that have been overworked trying to compensate for excess fluids that had accumulated. Much better, thankyouverymuch....
This guy has a multiplicity of health issues, all affecting and compounding other problems that did not need any additional complicating factors. In this case, having doctors recommending increasing dosage of diuretic to reduce fluid levels,while also dealing with markedly poor kidney function that could not keep up with demand for greater production. The kind of thing you see in science fiction movies about space travel when the red lights are flashing and bells start dinging, warning about 'systems failure'. Decreased function of one affects ability of others to perform, resulting in the entire balance getting out of whack and being overwhelmed.
The subject in question was badgered, oh, sorry 'persuaded' under duress to go to the ER. We all knew if he would just agree to go, they would insist on admitting him, realizing there was a true crisis occurring. Sure enough, the PA said: 'you are having a emergency', and started the process to get him into an air conditioned gown. That was a week ago: last Friday, and here we are at Friday again.
He is really doing much better. But it has taken three days of dialysis to get here. And another scheduled for tomorrow. Which, according to the multiple experts who have been through over the days, is pretty unusual: four days in a row. Obviously needed to try to get him back as close to normal as possible. Thereby easing the stress on various organs that have been overworked trying to compensate for excess fluids that had accumulated. Much better, thankyouverymuch....
book review: "flight patterns"...
... by Karen White, published by New American Library, in 2016. Another of those randomly chosen from the stacks in the public library. I was desperate for some reading material and grabbed four when I made a dash into the branch to feed my need to read.
A story of interest to anyone who is familiar with the Gulf coast of the Florida panhandle, where the story takes place in Apalachicola. Or anyone who has knowledge or love of honeybees or other pollinators. Meaning people who like honey in their tea and/or others who love the good stuff on their pancakes, that is all of us, right? My personal knowledge of beekeeping is a result of my brother deciding that tending bee hives would be his choice of project when he was itchy to participate in a club in junior high that required developing animal husbandry skills.
Our family lived in a small rural community that was very much dependent on agriculture as a major source of income, 'industry' if you will. But we were not actually farm people, so the prospect of raising livestock like pigs or a calf, a goat or sheep was not an option. I am not at all sure how he landed on the bee-keeping idea, but did create numerous opportunities for family togetherness during those years, extracting honey from the hives. My definition of a high risk occupation. Fortunately our house had a very large screened in back porch, perfect for protection from very angry bees.
The title: "flight patterns" becomes more understandable,. as you learn about bees, as well as the lengths alienated sisters will go to avoid confrontation .The story was interesting, well written, with characters you felt like you knew - and felt great affection for, as the dysfunctional family (aren't we all?!?!) learns to forgive, accept and move on with their lives, overcoming their antagonistic history. The patriarch of the family was the knowledgeable keeper of the apiaries, but he had taught two more generations in the patient ways of observing and caring for communities of bees. Lots of tid-bits of bee lore tossed in along with a really sweet story of people who learn what is really important: family.
A story of interest to anyone who is familiar with the Gulf coast of the Florida panhandle, where the story takes place in Apalachicola. Or anyone who has knowledge or love of honeybees or other pollinators. Meaning people who like honey in their tea and/or others who love the good stuff on their pancakes, that is all of us, right? My personal knowledge of beekeeping is a result of my brother deciding that tending bee hives would be his choice of project when he was itchy to participate in a club in junior high that required developing animal husbandry skills.
Our family lived in a small rural community that was very much dependent on agriculture as a major source of income, 'industry' if you will. But we were not actually farm people, so the prospect of raising livestock like pigs or a calf, a goat or sheep was not an option. I am not at all sure how he landed on the bee-keeping idea, but did create numerous opportunities for family togetherness during those years, extracting honey from the hives. My definition of a high risk occupation. Fortunately our house had a very large screened in back porch, perfect for protection from very angry bees.
The title: "flight patterns" becomes more understandable,. as you learn about bees, as well as the lengths alienated sisters will go to avoid confrontation .The story was interesting, well written, with characters you felt like you knew - and felt great affection for, as the dysfunctional family (aren't we all?!?!) learns to forgive, accept and move on with their lives, overcoming their antagonistic history. The patriarch of the family was the knowledgeable keeper of the apiaries, but he had taught two more generations in the patient ways of observing and caring for communities of bees. Lots of tid-bits of bee lore tossed in along with a really sweet story of people who learn what is really important: family.
Tuesday, July 4, 2017
lookit this...
...and enjoy the music. I am really a patriotic sap. Love to put on my flag-waving colors and celebrate federal holidays, with parades, marching bands, John Philip Sousa music: the ring tone for the phone in my pocket is "Stars and Stripes Forever."
Someone forwarded this video to me. I knew as soon as I opened it, the song would end in a patriotic wash of tears. It is likely the favorite of a daughter, who played it so often when it first came out we thought we might have to destroy the little cassette tape it was on. We all survived, and over time the novelty wore off, long after we had all committed the words into our permanent memory banks.
https://www.youtube.com/embed/daqwGRdRIsk?feature=player_detailpage
Someone forwarded this video to me. I knew as soon as I opened it, the song would end in a patriotic wash of tears. It is likely the favorite of a daughter, who played it so often when it first came out we thought we might have to destroy the little cassette tape it was on. We all survived, and over time the novelty wore off, long after we had all committed the words into our permanent memory banks.
happy independence day...
... normally, here in the great wide country, from sea to shining sea. Where we are industriously buying things to set on fire, for our great amusement. Along with various items of edibles to also set on fire, when we put them on the grill to cook as friends and family gather to watch as we provide the entertainment of lighting all those things we bought to burn up.
Thankful to be living in a country where that can happen? Yeah, me too. I am often reminded, as I travel of the amazing freedom to get in my car and go places without having to provide documentation. Not worried I will be stopped at the county line, or city limit sign to produce papers that permit entry. No fear when I drive to neighboring states that I will be denied permission to enter. Or questioned endlessly, and placed in a barred room until I can satisfactorily provide the right responses.
I can go to the store and purchase anything I choose: here in the Land of Plenty. Even if all I want to do with it is set it on fire. It is right there available to be paid for, taken home and burned to a crisp. Yay! for the Constitution of the United States of America. Yay! for founding fathers. Yay! for democracy and revolutionary war.
Did you see the story, or perhaps the Youtube about the people who set fire to the fireworks display in the grocery store in south Atlanta? I knew about it when it happened weeks ago, shortly before Memorial Day in late May. So it was just a matter of time before it popped up on youtube. But when I went looking for it, discovered any number of similar pyro-events. A Walmart in Arizona, among others. People just casually walking by with their goods to purchase, as the fireworks explode, and sparklers sparkle, clouds of smoke billowing up into the ceiling. Amazing: just a reminder that people will never fail to astound you...
Thankful to be living in a country where that can happen? Yeah, me too. I am often reminded, as I travel of the amazing freedom to get in my car and go places without having to provide documentation. Not worried I will be stopped at the county line, or city limit sign to produce papers that permit entry. No fear when I drive to neighboring states that I will be denied permission to enter. Or questioned endlessly, and placed in a barred room until I can satisfactorily provide the right responses.
I can go to the store and purchase anything I choose: here in the Land of Plenty. Even if all I want to do with it is set it on fire. It is right there available to be paid for, taken home and burned to a crisp. Yay! for the Constitution of the United States of America. Yay! for founding fathers. Yay! for democracy and revolutionary war.
Did you see the story, or perhaps the Youtube about the people who set fire to the fireworks display in the grocery store in south Atlanta? I knew about it when it happened weeks ago, shortly before Memorial Day in late May. So it was just a matter of time before it popped up on youtube. But when I went looking for it, discovered any number of similar pyro-events. A Walmart in Arizona, among others. People just casually walking by with their goods to purchase, as the fireworks explode, and sparklers sparkle, clouds of smoke billowing up into the ceiling. Amazing: just a reminder that people will never fail to astound you...
we have all heard stories...
... about people with multiple personality disorders, along the lines of the story 'The Three Faces of Eve'. I think the movie based on the book had Joanne Woodward as the leading character, who struggled with some serious mental issues, lots of different personalities teased out by the psychiatrist who wrote the book. It was based on his actual office notes of a patient, who of course remained anonymous for many years. A really fascinating story of an individual who seemed to be, over the time the doctor and woman met, living with a disordered brain occupied by many different individulas, as she struggled to regain her sense of self. I don't recall the details, but I think the determination was that her illness was a response to some history of abuse: physical, sexual, mental maybe?
I read the book years ago, and thought of it recently. I have had moments of feeling like I have been leading lives for three different people. Not actually inhabiting the persona of another, rather feeling overwhelmed by the necessity of wearing so many different 'hats' to meet the needs of all the people in my life that require attention. An auntie who is (thankfully) in assisted living, being cared for by a willing staff, rather than living a life of fear, doubt, chaos when she was at home alone. A man who is in declining health, and often in denial about his needs. Thankfully, temporarily, in a place where all the problems in his life are being attended to by trained healthcare professionals.
And me: feeling like I don't have a life, due to being so amenable in allowing others' needs to supercede. I would like to believe I am coping remarkably well, consoling myself with the hope that all this is only temporary. And the knowledge that these other people have needs that are greater than my own - plus I do believe my health is pretty good, and far more stable than those family members who are currently feeling they are incarcerated.
I read the book years ago, and thought of it recently. I have had moments of feeling like I have been leading lives for three different people. Not actually inhabiting the persona of another, rather feeling overwhelmed by the necessity of wearing so many different 'hats' to meet the needs of all the people in my life that require attention. An auntie who is (thankfully) in assisted living, being cared for by a willing staff, rather than living a life of fear, doubt, chaos when she was at home alone. A man who is in declining health, and often in denial about his needs. Thankfully, temporarily, in a place where all the problems in his life are being attended to by trained healthcare professionals.
And me: feeling like I don't have a life, due to being so amenable in allowing others' needs to supercede. I would like to believe I am coping remarkably well, consoling myself with the hope that all this is only temporary. And the knowledge that these other people have needs that are greater than my own - plus I do believe my health is pretty good, and far more stable than those family members who are currently feeling they are incarcerated.
even though ....
... you have likely had your fill of updates on the auntie in her full crisis mode, there is more to tell. Should you not care to know anymore about how this are progressing, devolving might be more accurate, skip over this one. I am Very Thankful she is someplace where she is getting round the clock care, with people available to provide attention and words of encouragement at all hours of the day and night.
Sadly, she is completely lost to herself. So the questions she dreams up are random, and often not related to anything the staff there at the facility know about or have the ability to provide answers to her satisfaction. Fortunately, they are familiar with the 'forgetting disease', and skilled at methods to help those so afflicted in dealing with the inevitable decline and confusion. My assumption is that the staff accepts the people they care for who are always questioning, and in a constant state of never retaining the answers to they receive. You learn to provide assurance, along with the same answers over and over and over...
She called me yesterday to ask why I was not there bringing her the shampoo and clothing we had talked about. I replied that I was not there because I had to work, and we had not had any conversation about things she reported needing. Then she wanted to know when she was going home. It was not a pleasant conversation. When she heard that she was staying right where she is, she got very angry and called me bad things. I am currently the title holder of Meanest Person in the World. And she was so furious with not getting the answer she wanted, she said she did not want to be related to me anymore, so she hung up on me. I can only hope that ending the conversation with a resounding bang of the phone receiver solved her problem...
Sadly, she is completely lost to herself. So the questions she dreams up are random, and often not related to anything the staff there at the facility know about or have the ability to provide answers to her satisfaction. Fortunately, they are familiar with the 'forgetting disease', and skilled at methods to help those so afflicted in dealing with the inevitable decline and confusion. My assumption is that the staff accepts the people they care for who are always questioning, and in a constant state of never retaining the answers to they receive. You learn to provide assurance, along with the same answers over and over and over...
She called me yesterday to ask why I was not there bringing her the shampoo and clothing we had talked about. I replied that I was not there because I had to work, and we had not had any conversation about things she reported needing. Then she wanted to know when she was going home. It was not a pleasant conversation. When she heard that she was staying right where she is, she got very angry and called me bad things. I am currently the title holder of Meanest Person in the World. And she was so furious with not getting the answer she wanted, she said she did not want to be related to me anymore, so she hung up on me. I can only hope that ending the conversation with a resounding bang of the phone receiver solved her problem...
Saturday, July 1, 2017
when you discover you are an adult...
..usually catches you by surprise, as you are blissfully unaware of actually and unintentionally becoming a grown up. I still have, on occasion, difficulty thinking of myself as being one of those. You know, as in that old saying from the sixties of how you should' never trust anyone over 30'? Sadly, I am so far beyond that I don't have adequate words to describe how it feels...
When my daughter came to town on Friday, unexpectedly, showed up to try to do something to help her dad, they reached an unlikely compromise. He has been really having a hard time for weeks, maybe a month or so. struggling with COPD and associated difficulties. The ultimatum I issued last weekend did not provide much success: either get an appt. to see the doctor or go the the ER. He actually took himself to family practice, but admitted afterward he was disappointed with what happened when he saw the PA. Possibly due expecting a miracle.
They did make a referral, but it was not productive/successful. So the daughter said: If you cannot get into the see the specialist on Friday, you will need to go the Emergency Room. He apparently did not feel like the inability to breathe qualified as an 'emergency'. But when he got there, the PA thought differently, and told him she hoped he brought his toothbrush.
When the daughter called me at work to say he was in the pipeline to be admitted, I was reminded of my experience from twenty odd years ago. And told her the story, to ask if she felt like she was now officially an 'adult'. She laughed, and said "I thought you became an adult when you gave birth?" No, not necessarily.
When I had two small children, about ages 3 and 5, I planned to go to south GA to visit my parents. I knew my dad was in the hospital, expecting to have knee replacement surgery. I wanted to go and visit him, planning to smuggle kids in due to a very lax visitation policy at the the hospital in Thomasville. But when I got to my parents' house, I discovered my mom in the bed with excruciating back pain. I called her doctor, who came to the house and provided meds. to help her endure the trip to the hospital. Remember house calls? He came with his little black bag and a large hypodermic needle and made a remarkable improvement in her disposition. Then I called EMS and got her a ride to the same hospital where my dad was awaiting surgery. I followed the transport, with two small children, who I seem to recall having a great time cleaning out all the snacks in the vending machine while I was distractedly giving my mom's vital statistics to the admitting clerk.
I cannot provide the outcome of her medical problems, but it obviously resolved for her to get back on her feet and be the worlds' best grandmother for a number of years afterward. And my dad survived knee replacement, though I do not recall if this one was a replacement for a replacement, as he had a total of three over the years. Pretty remarkable for a human who was only issued two knees at birth.
The above scenario was a matter of Sometimes You Do What You Wanna, and Sometimes You Do What You Gotta. An important lesson we all need to remember as we muddle through life, often learned years too late, but still it sticks with you when it takes you by surprise. I asked her if she felt like she was an adult when she badgered her dad into going to the hospital, and stood by providing information when he was admitted. She just laughed.
When my daughter came to town on Friday, unexpectedly, showed up to try to do something to help her dad, they reached an unlikely compromise. He has been really having a hard time for weeks, maybe a month or so. struggling with COPD and associated difficulties. The ultimatum I issued last weekend did not provide much success: either get an appt. to see the doctor or go the the ER. He actually took himself to family practice, but admitted afterward he was disappointed with what happened when he saw the PA. Possibly due expecting a miracle.
They did make a referral, but it was not productive/successful. So the daughter said: If you cannot get into the see the specialist on Friday, you will need to go the Emergency Room. He apparently did not feel like the inability to breathe qualified as an 'emergency'. But when he got there, the PA thought differently, and told him she hoped he brought his toothbrush.
When the daughter called me at work to say he was in the pipeline to be admitted, I was reminded of my experience from twenty odd years ago. And told her the story, to ask if she felt like she was now officially an 'adult'. She laughed, and said "I thought you became an adult when you gave birth?" No, not necessarily.
When I had two small children, about ages 3 and 5, I planned to go to south GA to visit my parents. I knew my dad was in the hospital, expecting to have knee replacement surgery. I wanted to go and visit him, planning to smuggle kids in due to a very lax visitation policy at the the hospital in Thomasville. But when I got to my parents' house, I discovered my mom in the bed with excruciating back pain. I called her doctor, who came to the house and provided meds. to help her endure the trip to the hospital. Remember house calls? He came with his little black bag and a large hypodermic needle and made a remarkable improvement in her disposition. Then I called EMS and got her a ride to the same hospital where my dad was awaiting surgery. I followed the transport, with two small children, who I seem to recall having a great time cleaning out all the snacks in the vending machine while I was distractedly giving my mom's vital statistics to the admitting clerk.
I cannot provide the outcome of her medical problems, but it obviously resolved for her to get back on her feet and be the worlds' best grandmother for a number of years afterward. And my dad survived knee replacement, though I do not recall if this one was a replacement for a replacement, as he had a total of three over the years. Pretty remarkable for a human who was only issued two knees at birth.
The above scenario was a matter of Sometimes You Do What You Wanna, and Sometimes You Do What You Gotta. An important lesson we all need to remember as we muddle through life, often learned years too late, but still it sticks with you when it takes you by surprise. I asked her if she felt like she was an adult when she badgered her dad into going to the hospital, and stood by providing information when he was admitted. She just laughed.
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