Archive | October, 2014

Who’s the Boss?

26 Oct

The Squire and I pulled a cute stunt this morning. Our bedroom clock/radio automatically resets itself according to some signal from outer space, and did so several weeks ago when Daylight savings time was supposed to start. I can’t figure out how to change it back, so just let it go. The Squire gets up when he wakes up, and I don’t think he ever even looks at the clock, as we have no place in particular we have to be.

Except this morning.

He rolled over and looked at the clock, which said 7 AM, so pulled the covers over his head for another dose of shut-eye. He came downstairs at what he thought was 7:50, and discovered it was actually 8:50, and we were well on the way to being late for church. We got there at 9:45, instead of our usual 9:30, so I barely had time to get robed. Our rector was away today, and our regular supply starts his service at 10:00, come Heaven or High Water. I was still tying my cincture when he said, “Well, Dani, I’m going on up.” I told him to stay right where he was, until I had a chance to light the candles and get the cross.

I did so, and then told him, “Well, boss, I’m ready to go whenever you are.”

Gotta keep these clergy in line. I don’t know where they get the idea they are in charge.

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Me and Sawrey Bean

21 Oct

Our church is gearing up for an all-the-stops-pulled-out haunted house this coming weekend, and the parish hall is a maze of black curtains, huge spiders, and bats.

I drove over last night for our weekly knitting group, and practically had to leave a trail of bread crumbs to get into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. A bit peckish, I opened the fridge – which does not have an interior light – to see if there was anything left from Sunday’s coffee hour. In the semi-darkness I picked up what appeared to be a half a cookie, and wondered vaguely why it had been left open and not wrapped on a plate.

A VERY realistic piece of plastic liver!

The Squire said everything had been washed before it has been put into the fridge, but the pieces get soft – and even more realistic when they are at room temperature.

Yeesh.

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The Limp Wrist Brigade

18 Oct

After having my wrist and thumb completely immobilized for a month, I have absolutely no strength in my hand. I squeeze the tooth paste between my arm and my body, and by the time I get the toothbrush in position, the paste has slithered back into the tube. I tried to open a jar of jelly this evening and it was “stuck”. I swear, all The Squire had to do was blow on it and the top fell off.

The doctor wrapped my hand yesterday with an ace bandage, which I left off last night, but The Squire rewrapped it this morning. Tomorrow we will see if I have enough strength to turn on the ignition (first step in driving again, y’know) and then on Monday I will start Aqua Arthritis classes again.

One day at a time!

And thanks to everyone for keeping me in their thoughts and prayers.

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Free at Last – Sort of

17 Oct

The Squire and I were at the doctor’s office at 12:50 for a 1:00 appointment to have my cast removed, and out on the street at 1:00. This guy is fast. I now have an opposable thumb, and an interesting wrinkle in my hand. He recommended I use one of those “squeezy” balls to strengthen my hand, and assured me that the pain in my wrist is strictly from trying to use muscles in a way they weren’t intended to be used, and would go away in a few days. I do have an ace bandage wrapped around my hand, mostly to keep the stitches from getting banged. I know we have a dozen of those silly balls in the house, but darned if I can find one when I need it.

I can put on my clothes, but still have trouble getting out of things, so I had to ask The Squire to unzip me this afternoon.

Now, “Unzip me! Unzip me!” is a long-standing joke on our house. For many, many years, my best friend’s husband has been asking me – jokingly – to leave The Squire and marry him, which I have always said I would do, if he stopped smoking, and if I grew up. I have to admit he’s done his part, but there’s no chance I’ll ever fulfill my part of the bargain.

Anyway, about a thousand years ago, the four of us were standing around talking when I felt something crawling on my back. I reached up to brush it off and discovered a wasp or yellow-jacket had gotten down inside my dress, and was busily stinging me on my spine. The Squire was standing across from me, but BFF’s husband – the wannabe – was right next to me, and I turned around and screamed “Unzip me! Unzip me!”

He did so, but complained that he had been waiting years for me to say that, and I had to go and do it in public.

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Pictures From the Ocean

17 Oct

Celtic Dancers 1

Part of the Group of dancers at the Celtic Festival

Part of the Group of dancers at the Celtic Festival

 

beach bunnies

The Squire and me, squinting into the sun. I was still in a cast, so everything I wore was a muumuu of some sort. And a sweater. It was cold down there!

beach front

Most of the units had their hurricane shutters in place.

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Iron Deficiency Insomnia

15 Oct

For as long as I can remember, I have been tired. My mother used to tell me I was so lazy I was even born late. When I was away at school, we didn’t have study hall on Friday night and could stay up an hour past our regular bedtime; I’d leave the dining room and go straight to my dorm. Even now, I sleep ten hours a night, and whenever possible I take a nap after our mid-day meal.

A few years ago my GP found that not only was my thyroid on the blink, but I am extremely anemic, which would explain my chronic “pale and interesting” complexion. He put me on an iron supplement which was strong enough to plate a battleship, and caused considerable, um, gastric distress.  So I have limped along, trying to eat more raisins and spinach, which have the same effect, although mild enough that I can function.

My former endocrinologist retired, and my first appointment with the new one involved the usual interview and review of symptoms, mostly drop-dead fatigue. She also suggested an iron supplement, and I explained I had a bad reaction to that medication. “Nonsense! People get constipated from iron, not diarrhea!” Oh, we are off to a good start! Nothing like somebody who has never seen you before telling you that you don’t know how your own body works. “Take this for a month and come back for another blood test.”

I’m taking half the prescribed dose, and am answering the call of nature often enough for it to be considered a litany.

And I only thought I was tired before.

 

 

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The Princess and the Pea

14 Oct

On a whim, I purchased a super-deluxe ladies razor, with “ribbons” of shaving cream and body lotion built into the head. Some swell, as they say.

Well, I don’t know what was in that stuff, but my legs broke out in a rash from my ankles to my knees. I had to take a second shower, and rub some prescription anti-rash stuff all over, and I still scratched so badly I drew blood.

Yeesh.

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Well, Son of a Gun!

13 Oct

Well, wadya know? “Go get the ax” is a real song! My girlfriend found the lyrics online someplace, and sent them to me. It just doesn’t get much better than this:

GO GET THE AX
(Grandpa’s Wooden Leg)

by Lesley Nelson-Burns

Peepin’ through the knot-hole
of grandpa’s wooden leg,
Who’ll wind the clock when I’m gone?
Go get the ax
There’s a flea in Lizzie’s ear,
For a boy’s best friend is his mother.

Peepin’ through the knot-hole
of grandpa’s wooden leg,
Why do they build the shore so near the ocean?
Who cut the sleeves
Out of dear old daddy’s vest,
And dug up Fido’s bones to build the sewer?

A horsey stood around,
With his feet upon the ground,
Oh, who will wind the clock when I’m gone?
Go get the ax,
There’s a fly on Lizzie’s ear,
But a boy’s best friend is his mother.

I fell from a window,
A second-story window,
I caught my eyebrow on the window-sill.
The cellar is behind the door,
Mary’s room is behind the ax,
But a boy’s best friend is his mother.

The horses run around,
Their feet are on the ground,
Oh, who will wind the clocks when I’m away, away?
Go get the ax,
There’s a fly on the baby’s chest
And a boy’s best friend is his mother, his mother.

While peeping through a knot-hole
In grandpa’s wooden leg,
Oh, who has put the shore so near the ocean, the ocean?
Go get the Listerine, sister’s got a beau
and Grandma’s false teeth will soon fit Jenny, fit Jenny.
While walking in the moonlight,
The bright and sunny moonlight
She kissed me in the eye with a tomato, tomato
A snake’s belt slips because he has no hips
So he wears his neck tie around his middle, his middle.

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Silly Songs

12 Oct

I normally wind our tall-case clock on Sunday morning, before church, but it dawned on me while we were fixing dinner (The Squire was cooking; I was just supervising.) that I had forgotten to do so, and hustled off to take care of that little chore.

When I came back into the kitchen, I started to sing a “song” that my German grandmother used to sing when I was a kid. No, it doesn’t rhyme, and the tune, such as it is, doesn’t qualify as catchy, but maybe it was better in German than English. I dunno.

Looking through the knothole in Grandpa’s wooden leg,
Oh, who will wind the clock when I am gone?
Go get the ax; there’s a fly on Baby’s nose,
And a boy’s best friend is his mother.

The Squire just stared at me. It’s nice to know that even after forty years, I can still sca – um – surprise him.

They just don’t write songs like that anymore. (I think it’s illegal.)

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Downy Oshun, Hon

5 Oct

“Goin’ downy oshun, hon” is Baltimore-ese for heading the Ocean City, which The Squire and I, along with my brother-in-law, did this past weekend. Eldest Daughter has a condo, which she was kind enough to let us use. Everything we needed was there – eggs in the fridge, shampoo and soap in the bathrooms. Eldest Daughter and her husband do not drink coffee, but Brother-in-Law had brought his coffee pot. Unfortunately, we didn’t have any milk (I put coffee in my coffee) so poor BIL had to top off his coffee with whipped cream. Kaffe mit schlagge. But – the whipped cream had both milk and sugar.

We spent Saturday at a Celtic Festival in Berlin, Maryland, listening to bagpipes and watching Irish dancers. Wow! I get winded watching those young ladies, and they weren’t even breathing hard. Listened to a story teller, and watched a blacksmithing demonstration. The fellows watched a demonstration of swordplay; the knights slaughtering the peasantry, The Squire called it. The actors had some of the kids in the audience (mostly boys, obviously) come into the arena and flail about, smacking their wooden long swords against the knights’ shields, and then moved in to corner the child. They would take a collapsible sword and “kill” the child. There was some mighty inventive dying going on, let me tell you. One kid would spin in circles, crying “I’m dying! I’m dying”, while another would simply fall flat clutching his chest, flapping like a fish out of water. In the end, the knight would pull the sword from the hilt and the “stab” the child one more time; the blade would slide up into the hilt, so there was no harm done, and the boys just loved it.

While we were touring the museum-cum-gift shop, The Squire was inspecting an interactive display of various woodland sounds – a rattlesnake, and some bird calls. Suddenly I heard a familiar sound. “That bird!” I called to him. “That bird! That’s the one I’ve been hearing in the yard. What is it?”

“Oh, that? It’s a red winged hawk”, he replied, in a tone of voice that indicated I should have known all along. Someday…

Later, we went to dinner at The Green Turtle, which as to be the noisiest place I’ve ever been in my life. Just about every table had a TV set, each turned to a different game – some football, some baseball – and even with half the sets muted people were still straining to make themselves heard. And then suddenly, everything went quiet. One set was turned to a baseball game, and a young man began singing God Bless America; everyone stopped to listen. It was truly moving. I know there are folks out there who will have a fit over mentioning God, but the national anthem is SO hard to sing, and this was just lovely. A lot of people in the restaurant clapped, and then things returned to normal.

This morning we drove back to Berlin to go to church at St Paul’s. I managed to misread their website, and we arrived at 10:00 for a service that began at 10:30. Ah, well. At least we didn’t have to fight for a seat. We’ve been there before, and as luck would have it, hit Rite I both times. They do Rite I and Rite II on alternate Sundays, and for those of you who are not Episcopalians, Rite I is more traditional, and Rite II is very modern. (Guess which one I prefer?) This parish is VERY high church. The altar is still against the east wall, and many parts of the service are chanted or sung. I just took off and ran with the chanted psalm, and left the fellows in the dust. Ah, bliss. At any rate, it was nice to be able to go to church and not have to robe up or be an usher, but to just sit in the pew and worship.

We met my cousin and his wife for lunch, and exchanged medical complaints, and caught up on kids and grandkids. We came back to Ocean City and strolled the Boardwalk, working off some of those excess calories. The Boardwalk is interesting for about three blocks, and then it gets repetitious. Every block sells sunglasses, saltwater taffy and T-shirts. Over and over.

It’s a great place to be if you are a people watcher, though. Some of the oddest folks outside of Wal-Mart march up and down that strip. A lot of nice folks, but some real weirdoes in between. One lady is going to bewilder me for years to come. She was wearing a dark dress and shoes, and the little circular cap that many Mennonite women wear instead of a prayer cap. Except hers was black and covered with sequins.

Wondrous strange.

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