I THINK I’M HUNGRY

No, not so much for food. I’m hungry for some good news. So tired of all the political rhetoric in the news, in my email from people running for office from other states wanting me to send them some money. Why on earth would I want to send money to help elect a Republican from some other state? Or even a Democrat for that matter.

I’ve always heard that money is the root of all evil, and so far a few people are proving that. Take the former idiot President, for example. I read a few days ago that he has all the earmarks of the anti-christ. I had to agree with that, although there have been others in the past that made me wonder. None as bad as the present one though.

I’m hungry for the touch of a human hand, held out in friendship on days when the sun refuses to shine and my mood reflects that. I grew up in a large family but always seemed to be the one who was alone. Probably because of the asthema and sinus infections I had as a child, and in the case of the sinuses still have. It’s not fun having to stay inside while all the other kids are out playing and learning to interface with each other. I never had that experience and as a result was alway shy around other people, never knowing what to say and with a voice so soft that nobody heard me when I did think of something.

Don’t think my life has been terrible though. I found a life in books and music that I otherwise might never have known. The books almost got me in trouble one night though. I was taking a page from my mother’s book and reading with a flashlight under the covers. The book was “LIttle Women” and I was at the part where Beth was dying, and being me, crying right along with the March family. Mother thought I was having another sinus or asthma attack and came in with some medication while I was hiding the flashlight and the book under the pillow. Since the one thing she used that always made us feel better was a hot toddy I drank it and then settled down to finish the book after she left the room.

I probably would never have thought to do that if my mom hadn’t told us about having to read “Tale Of Two Cities” in high school. She was a boarder and the school library only had two copies of the book. As luck would have it, she didn’t get the book until the afternoon before the report was due, so she read it by flashlight after lights out. She always talked about how much she hated that book so I was aprehensive when I was a boarder at the same school and it was on the required reading list. Since I got the book early on and loved it so much I read it in an afternoon, I couldn’t understand why she had not liked it, but after she told about the flashlight I could understand better. Dickens is not an author to be read under wraps, so to speak. And of course now having remembered that, it’s time to dig out a copy of that one and read it again. I have to admit I wore out several copies of “LIttle Women” over the years, but it’s now on my Kindle and safe from dropping —I shouldn’t have said that. Fortunately the Kindle is in a good case and dropping isn’t as dangerous as it would be without that case, but it’s also old and beginning to act up by going black on me at times. I have discovered that by resetting it to factory default it will come back for now, but have had to reset it several times lately.

Whew! That took some time to write. I used to be able to type faster and more accurately, but that was when I thought I wanted to be a secretary. It didn’t take long to realize that wasn’t what I really wanted. After watching the nurses taking care of my dad when he was dying I decided I wanted to work for Hospice some day. Happy to say that mission was accomplished a few years later and was the most fulfilling job I ever had. I might have said most fulfilling time of my life, but that still belongs to the days when my babies were little and still needed me.

Oh gee, I’m hungry for an arm filled with a baby now. Maybe it’s because today is my baby’s birthday and I kinda wish he was still the cute and cuddly little guy from 14 birthdays ago. He’s still cute but not so cuddly these days, but he really does act 14 around me most of the time. It’s hard to believe that grown up responsible man is still the baby I remember when I remember the past.

I’ve mentioned before that I love quotations and have a few notebooks full of them. Tonight I found a few that seem to relate to my mood, so I’ll share a couple of them. You can stop reading if you are bored. I mean really, how would I ever know?

“No one needs to paint himself into a corner: no one needs to be completely hemmed in by circumstances; no one needs to be the victim of his biography.” — George Kelly

“The essence of creativity is figuring out how to use what you already know in order to go beyond what you already think.” — Jerome Bruner

Several have hit home for me in the past, but those two just stuck out in front of my face tonight.

And now I’m hungry for a snack and there is a container of yogurt screaming my name, so I think I’ll just close this off now. After the yogurt I might just try something creative before my one hour of sleep drops me into a stupor.

KODAK Digital Still Camera

Just Thinking About My Baby

It’s a few days early, but I just found this again and just have to post it again. Mike will have his 14th actual birthday next Thursday, so this seems like a good time because I found it again, as well as because I might forget by Thursday. Enjoy!

He’s One In Four Million Worldwide

My Dell Is Coming Home’

I wrote this in 2018 about a totally different Dell laptop, one that had been out of commission for quite some time. The IT at Ragu, where Mike works, was able to fix the laptop and I gave the “blue” HP to my grandson who opened it and began using it right there. I had been having so many problems with it I was ready to toss it out the window. As for the power chair at that time, Mike was able to fix it for me and today I wish I still had that one. It was better than the one it was replaced by a few months later, That particular Dell laptop didn’t last very long after being fixed so I still had a Lenovo to fall back on. My Lenovo was stolen by a neighbor while I was packing to move from that building last August. After failed attempts to get him to return it and just when I was about to call the police to get it for me the former neighbor died suddenly of a massive heart attack. The Lenovo disappeared completely, so now I am once again writing from the Dell. It works but that’s about all I can say about it. Nothing like my original Dell PC, built just for me at the factory in Tennessee. I sold it when I got my laptop and at times wish I still had it. Nothing works like the old made in America things that we will probably never see again. And so goes those good old days when I wonder if things will ever be good again. Hiaerth!

Had to call Mike with an SOS about my power chair today and received the welcome news that my Dell is repaired and is coming home.  But like everything else in life, one thing is good so something has to be bad to even it all out.  The power chair is sick.  More like injured.  I guess I lean a bit too much to my right and that of course is the side the controls are on.  Yesterday while cruising thru Kroger’s I felt a slight pull and heard a small sound, just a whisper of one, and realized I was leaning a lot more on the right.  Even checked to see if I had a flat tire on the right side.  Nope, no flat.  Just the arm rest hanging down below the seat!  And a cable was loose.  I think it just might be time for a new chair.  I’m not sure how long I’ve had this one though. Surely not 5 years already?  We have to wait a mandatory 5 years between chairs, but I wonder if they will replace one that is broken?  And I wonder if Hoveround is still in business.  Haven’t seen those commercials lately, but then i don’t pay much attention to what is actually on the screen.  Just like the sound of the voices in the room with me.  Pathetic, huh?

So here I wait, more for Mike to hopefully fix the arm of the chair than to see my sweet Dell again, although getting her back is really going to be wonderful.  Blue thingy here will be designated a toy for the grandkids to play, dance on, toss around or take home for batting practice or just use for homework if they don’t mind the frustration.  I’m getting too old and cranky to have to search for a long page of prose that has been painstakingly pecked out on this jumping bean they  call a laptop.  I’ve invented a few other names for it but just don’t use them in polite company.  It just led me all over this page trying to edit the word polite, moving it around from one line to the other until my language was less than polite.   I’ll wash my mouth out later.

So, I just loaded my Picasa 3 setup app on a flash drive so I can put it back on Dell.  It is old and Google doesn’t like old so they took it away.  I found it on an android and have been fighting them to leave it alone ever since.  It’s a free program.  That’s the whole problem.  They want to sell a program and we DON’T WANT TO PAY OR A PROGRAM  when we had a perfectly food one free.  Google is greedy.  I am stubborn.  We’ll see ho wins this battle, and while it might not be me but it sure won’t be Google.

So, more good stuff from my oven.  First a real flop so I did a do-over and it is delicious!  Focaccia Bread with so many herbs it can be smelled all over this floor.  The one this morning was so bad I had to use mouthwash to get the taste out of my mouth.  It has to be pretty bad to warrant that treatment more than once in the same time frame.  I thought I was using a tried and true recipe, but will never make that mistake again.  That one is occupying file 13 now.  I located the good recipe in an exhaustive search later and this time the results are delicious!  Not exactly the way it’s ordinarily used, I made a sandwich with asparagus, tomatoes, scallions and smoked Gouda.  Not bad at all.  Gonna make another one tomorrow and use it for the Chicken Fajitas I’ve been planning for a long, long time.  Have some of the bread left but a friend who is second gen. American is on her way up to pick the rest of it up.  She is very Italian and will have the final vote on whether it passes muster or not.  I would hold my breath, but found once that blue complexion isn’t my best color.  Tends to make me light headed also.

These are burgoo kettles, each holding about 60 gallons of the food of the gods.  The location is Mount St. Joseph Convention Center, and the photos were taken several years ago when they were still having an annual picnic fund raiser.  That no longer happens, but I have to tell you burgoo is one of the best tasting foods in the universe.  Yes, it is a regional dish, not really a soup, definitely NOT a stew, and only one recipe is the real one in my humble opinion.  The burgoo cooking in these kettles is the real one!  My Mom adapted this recipe down from 60 gallons to 5 gallons, and we used to make it at home.  Then one of my sisters cut it down to one gallon, even better.  Problem is, everything has to be ground, chicken, beef, onions, cabbage, tomatoes, corn not so much, the meat pre cooked and the broth saved, then everything cooked and stirred for hours and hours.  Spices, yummy.  Worth it all, but so much better when someone else makes it and sends it to me now.  As with most recipes it always grows and overflows the pot it is cooking in.  And we found that minor accidents, like dropping the salt shaker in the pot and having to find it with the long handled spoon make the batch taste better.  I think Mom did that one.  With so many of us we took turns stirring while we were all at home, but after I was the only one left in the area it got hairy.  Mom and I took turns, sitting on the counter next to the stove, careful about moving too close.  Talk about a hotseat!  That would really have lit a fire under us.  Just a short trip down Memory Lane as I close the lid on this Blue thingy after deleting the rest of my files.  Already ran backup and have the discs on hand to move to Dell.

Can you ever get the country out of the lady?

( I started this post a few years ago and it was promptly lost in the Ethernet. Just found it again and decided to post it because I still had a sense of humor, weird though it may be, and since I now have that problem again, but in the other foot, I’m sure there will be another trip to the ER and another painful interlude coming up in the future.)

Maybe. But it isn’t easy. I lived in the country most of my life and have always gone barefoot. In the summer I was barefoot outside as well as inside. Winters I wear socks in the house and only put on shoes when I go outside. Living in town now and in an apartment building I have to wear shoes when I go out, or if in the power chair, just heavy socks.

I sew a lot, making doll clothes and quilts. And with no feeling at all in my fingers I usually drop a lot of pins and needles, finding them when I step on some and sit on others. Most people say “OUCH” when they see that, but I have MS and don’t have much physical pain, so while I might say something like “oops, I found it” I’m never very concerned. So when my foot began hurting a few days ago it didn’t really concern me much. I had already washed my feet once this month, but decided to take the socks off and wash them a second time. I guess it was a good idea to take the socks off, even though they weren’t stiff yet. Imagine my surprise when I saw the foot was red and swollen just around the big toe! So, being an independent person and a DIY’r, I decided to care for it myself and began picking at a small scab. Whew! what a mess. I won’t go into detail here because I’m trying to eat, but suffice to say it was infected!

So, for the next few days I washed the foot, just that one of course since the other one was okay, put antibiotic cream on the area and bandaged it to keep the sock from making it worse! Okay, okay, so I’m exaggerating a little bit, but seriously, by Friday it was hurting and I made the decision to have my son take me to a clinic to get an x-ray.

The doctor there was telling me how I would have to begin a wound management program to clear up the infection, how it would entail going every day for treatment, blah, blah, blah. Then they showed him the x-ray. He looked a few times before informing me that I have a sewing needle embedded in my foot, but most important, I had to go to the ER for immediate treatment, maybe surgery. Huge sigh!

While I was signing out of the clinic, he told Mike about it and I could hear him tell the doc that I had said in the beginning it was a sure bet that I had a needle in there.

Back out in the rain, climbing back up in the truck, arguing with the seatbelt about who was boss there, getting help from a laughing daughter-in-love, finally getting the seatbelt fastened in time to take it off again at almost the same time, I finally slid out of the truck and grabbed hold of the walker again. Only one person was allowed to go in with me, so while Mike stayed with me Janette went shopping.

I only remember a few of the details of that visit to the ER, just that the PA who was working on the toe couldn’t get the needle out so he just made the entry bigger by means you probably don’t want to know and sent me home to wait for the needle to emerge. While he was working on the foot my darling son took off for the cafeteria rather than holding my hand. Was I surprised at that? Nope! He’s the one who fainted when his youngest son was born.

Okay, such is my tale of past experiences with needles in my foot. And now that I’m remembering it again, I have to say that I was still at the Roosevelt House at the time and had the horrible indoor/outdoor carpeting that catches everything that is dropped and hangs on to it until someone pulls it out manually (or by stepping on it). I am now in a place with hardwood floors and needles and pins are easy to see and corral with my magnet. Still dropping them but so far have only sat on a few needles that embed themselves in my lift chair. Just a mild OUCH for most of them but none embedded in my derriere. At least not yet.

Nursing Home News

Okay, the hospital is now in the past!  Mike picked me up this afternoon and brought me to Hillcrest nursing home where I’ll be for a couple of weeks before Home sweet home! My Medicare company had me sweating for a little while, refusing to okay the Rehab because I am “doing too well” .  Just thought I’d mention that in case any of you break a leg or hip!  Wherever you do if that happens, don’t walk for several weeks and do a lot of complaining about it all. !probably screaming wouldn’t be out of the question!  It seems they only want to pay for the ones who will be there the longest.

Just thought I would share a few of my older photos along with the beautiful fern a very dear friend.sent to frighten my room! We haven’t had much sunshine so the photo needs some editing but that will have I wait until I get home! And more of this missive will also have to wait until I can convince this kindle to use only the words I type in, and all of the letters I use without adding any on it’s own!

 

 

He’s One In Four Million Worldwide

That would be my youngest son, Mike, featured here along with his children and guess who in the last photo in the group.

Today Mike is celebrating his 13th birthday!  He has said he plans to act like a “terrible teen” now that he has double digit Feb. 29’s under his belt.  He wasn’t sure he could pull it off until I told him he has been practicing for it his entire life.

According to this morning’s local paper he is one of 187,000 Americans with this birthday, and approximately four million worldwide.  The worldwide number is not completely accurate since many countries don’t have an accurate count of the people living there or of their birth records.  Still an impressively small number of people in comparison to the world population!

People are always asking when we celebrated his birthday over the years.  It was very easy when he was young.  His sister was born on March 7, his brother on Feb. 22, so all three had birthdays within a two week timetable and we would have one celebration for all three of them, with a “humdinger”, as his dad called it on Leap Year.  This lasted until they all were in school and discovered their classmates each had a party of their own.  No sharing with siblings?  Unheard of in our home.  Until that fateful day they each entered first grade at St. Mary of the Woods school in Whitesville, KY.  Each of their classmates had a birthday cake of their own I was told.  None of them had to share with a brother and sister or two brothers!  I briefly considered home schooling but when factoring in certain facts — they had already found out this one most important thing about birthdays, they were at that time the only kids their age on our road and needed some others to play with, and most important to me — I had discovered the joys of taking a long hot bath without the door rattling and a kid saying they had to talk to me NOW!  So I baked a cake each week during our short birthday season.  Everyone wants dessert anyway and cakes are still easier to bake than cookies or pies.

My kids all had Ms. Evans as first grade teacher.  Gina was first, intelligent and eager to learn, then Don, a little bit shy at first, intelligent and eager to learn (this according to our first parent-teacher interviews).  Ms. Evans was shaking her head when I went in for Mike.  She only said “he’s not like the other two, is he?”  I had to laugh as I asked her how long it took her to discover this fact.  Mike always thought that many kids in a room meant only one thing —PARTY!

I don’t mean to imply that Mike isn’t and wasn’t then intelligent.  He just didn’t like being penned up inside a classroom all day.  This is a kid who was working on tractor engines by the age of 4, usually under his Uncle Marvin’s supervision.  He is more hands on than book smart, something as important in running anything as the college degrees.  Could be more important actually.  A degree doesn’t necessarily mean a person can fix something, just that they supposedly have the words to write the manuals — I think.  I don’t have a degree either, just sometimes have problems understanding my sibs who all have those little things.  We all have our place in this world.

Okay, not going to debate the qualities behind each of them here.  Just going to paraphrase a quote by a friend at one time:  “God made worker bees as well as the Queen Bee and He deserves to experience them both!”  (The original quote was comparison between crows and canaries).

Okay, I’ve erased this twice now by resting my wrist in the wrong place so I’m gonna quit while hopefully still ahead here!  A.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MIKE!

Can I Just Say “AAAArrrggghhh!

This looked like a good time to post again, especially since it’s the first time I’ve been on the laptop rather than the Kindle for several days.  Then things began getting wonky again so I’m not sure if there is such a time as a “good” one.

My sweet youngest came over yesterday to install new batteries in my power chair and I was kinda taken aback when he held his right hand up and inadvertently shot me the bird!  He seems to be kinda accident prone these days, and the middle finger of his right hand was encased in a thick bandage, the result of another farm accident where he got his finger caught in some equipment at the corral and ripped it open.  Twenty one stitches later they had it cleaned, bandaged and encased in a metal finger brace.  I’m sure the apparatus has a different name, but it’s late and I can’t think of it now, even though I’m sitting here looking at my own brace, or support thingy.  Now why would he ever want to copy some of my crazy accidents?  His dad always did say he was too much like me in so many ways, even though he looks more like his dad.

Come to think of it, his dad also had some rather spectacular accidents on the farm.  Like the hottest summer day we had been blessed with in so many years, his dad was looking for something to do, noticed that the corn bin needed cleaning, and climbed inside to do the job.  The outside temps were 100+ F. but it just seemed imperative to this dear soul to go inside the metal bin where the temp had to be several degrees hotter, not letting anyone know he was in there as a “just in case” precaution, and begin working.  I think we are all like that at times, but Edd led a charmed life that day.  He made it to the house before collapsing, and for the first time in our lives together told me I should call the doctor.  Didn’t say why, just call him.  I finally managed to get part of the story from him, called the doctor, and was told to give him lots of milk to drink.  That turned out to be the best medical advice we  were ever given, bringing Edd back from the near dead and giving me yet another natural remedy for heat prostration.  It came in handy many times for the rest of our lives together.

The last one I remember was the night we had been in bed for several hours, or so I thought, when I heard the kitchen door open and some shuffling of feet.  Both of the boys were out on dates that night so I thought at first t was one or both of them returning home, but then I heard Edd calling out that he needed help.  It just happened to be the same corn bin that almost did him in again, this time from falling off it onto the concrete pad surrounding it.  He was almost asleep when he heard the rain start, and like the usual method of silly accidents, suddenly couldn’t remember if he had shut the opening at the top of the bin or not.  So, once again without telling anyone, he got up and went out to check, slipped on the wet metal top and fell to the concrete pad below.  Huge sigh!  The boys both got home about this time and they were sent out to check the bin, close the top which actually had been forgotten, and came back inside just in time to help me get their dad to the car for yet another Saturday night trip to the ER.

The doctors and nurses there knew us well by this time, because for several months I was transporting at least one of the guys in every Saturday night.  One of them would become careless while working the cattle, something it seemed like they did every Saturday, usually while I was away doing the grocery shopping.  I would get home with the bags of groceries and follow the trail of blood into the house, always wondering which one of them it was that particular week.  The scene inside was almost a carbon copy each week, the bathroom filled with dirty, blood encrusted towels, the sink with some stains still there, bandage wrappers strewn every place, but not another human in sight to give me any idea at all about which one it was this time.  I still wonder how they all survived these weekends, but at least they didn’t go so far as to dedicate a parking place to one of us at the hospital.

Okay, I just managed to erase a couple of paragraphs, so it must be time for me to shut the computer down and go to bed.  After I put away the Monterrey Spaghetti that sounded so good a few hours ago.  I ate too much and it is beginning to get kinda heavy inside.  Not a good thing to do this late at night, but it sure is good  I might have to do a few exercises before I hit the mattress though..