Archive | Uncategorized RSS feed for this section
It Won’t Work
19 FebThat’s an old (fill the ethnicity or denomination of your choice) expression for “we’ve never done it that way before”.
The Squire, as I have mentioned before, needs new shoes, which necessitates a trip to North Carolina to get a mold made. He has relatives in the area, so whenever we go down that way, we always stop in and see everybody.
He left home a few days after he graduated from high school, and every trip he’s made since, he’s gone to Newport, Tennessee, first, as it is the farthest, and then worked his was back up north, through Asheville, and Canton, NC. Well, it turns out the friends with whom we were going to stay in Newport are having company during the time when we would be there, and it just wouldn’t work out that we’d even be able to have dinner with them, let alone a decent visit. “Well, why don’t we just do the trip backwards? We can do Newport last.”
“We can’t do that. We’ll just visit my sister and we won’t see Dick and Jane.” I love his sister dearly, but she smokes non-stop and my poor lungs just can’t hack it. (Pardon the pun.) She knows this and understands it, but it means we’d have to stay in a motel. Dick and Jane are friends from the early days of our marriage, and we’d both miss the chance to spend time with them.
Finally, I pointed out that if we did the trip backwards, we could get the molds for his shoes made on our first day on the road, instead of the last, and the woman who makes them would have a week’s head start. Now, that got his attention.
This morning, my back surgeon gave me permission to travel, and the weather down south will be in the 40s and 50s, while up here it will be in the teens and 20s, so we’re good to go.
Alas, Poor Yorick
18 FebNever let it be said I am a fan of grackles, but I do understand the birds have to eat, so we keep putting out vast amounts of seed when it snows. I had made up my mind I wasn’t going to fill the feeders for a few days, hoping they would find another place to haunt, and then it snowed Monday night, so we were back at it.
This morning I went out to fill the tube where we put peanuts for the squirrels and found a grackle inside, curled up with his head under his wing, frozen solid.
He received a ceremonial burial in the trash can.
Incompetence, Thy Name is Comcast
17 FebFor reasons which defy logic, it is less expensive to use Comcast for TV, Internet and phone service than it is for only TV and Internet. We really like Vonage, because their rates for overseas calls are very low – most of Europe is free and even my bi-weekly call to Australia is only 2 cents a minute. When you talk for an hour, that adds up! Comcast offers total US calling, but their overseas rates seem to date from the 60s. Anyway, after some toing and froing, we decided to go with them anyway.
I worked for Blue Cross for ten years, and I thought I knew incompetence inside and out, but Comcast beats all.
The Squire spent an hour on the phone on Friday, getting bounced from pillar to post, and then again today doing the same thing. I cannot tell you the number of times he repeated his name, address and both our regular phone number and his cell number. Nobody seemed to know what was going on. One young lady promised to call him back within fifteen minutes; that was a little after noon, and it is now 4:30.
It finally turned out that nobody – nobody! – can figure out how to change our phone over from one service to another without changing the number, which we refuse to do. We’ve had the same number since 1972, and it’s a really easy one to remember. When I got sick in 1982 the part of my brain that does numbers disappeared. Anything I knew before I turned 40 is still in there, but after that – forget it. I’ve told the girls they can never change their phone numbers, because I won’t be able to call them. It’s bad enough that I have to tell folks I don’t have a cell because I don’t know the number.
They’ll never believe I don’t have a land line.
Brrr!
15 FebFirst time for everything.
Fr. M decided to cancel church services this morning. At 10:30 (right now) it has warmed up at bit; the temperature is 8F, with a wind chill of -14. Last night when we went to bed, the wind chill was -27. Our car won’t start, and the kitchen pipes are frozen. (We will NOT go into the numerous times I have suggested to The Squire that we wrap them with heat tape.) Fortunately, we still have running water in the bathroom, so we’ll manage.
Everything is sealed as tightly as possible, with a blanket over the kitchen door, and the dining room drapes shut and then pulled up and tucked into the window sill. That window is already triple-glazed, but you can still feel the cold reaching through the glass. The thermostat is set on 70, but the dining room is only 61 degrees. We are ensconced in the den, with an electric heater running.
Last night, we turned the heat down to 63 when we went to bed, but because the furnace was chugging along trying to keep up, our bedroom got so hot I had to open the window!
Hyper!
13 FebA few weeks ago I had an MRI of my brain because I am exhibiting some of the same symptoms – primarily confusion and forgetfulness – that my dad showed before he was diagnosed with a brain tumor. I requested a copy of the “films” (actually a CD) to hand carry to my neurologist, whom I will see next Tuesday afternoon.
Several months ago I had gone to my endocrinologist to see about increasing my Synthroid dosage, as I am always exhausted and cannot control my weight. Instead of that, she put me on a very large dosage of Vitamin D.
So – Sunday I took the CD to church, because one of our members is a radiologist and I wanted him to take a look, even though he wouldn’t have the prior films for comparison. Nothing particularly outstanding, but he did ask what meds I am on. When I mentioned the Vitamin D, his face lit up. “That’s your problem. Too much can cause confusion, as well as fatigue and diarrhea.” Great. I have always slept more than the average bear, but for quite a while now, I have been getting up at least once a night to trot to the potty, and I have been sleeping between twelve and fourteen hours a night.
So much for “pepping me up”.
When I saw the doctor yesterday and practically got down on my knees to ask for more Synthroid (honestly, you’d think I was looking for real drugs) she said too much was bad for my heart, and would make me hyper. Well, the extra 25 pounds I’ve been lugging around isn’t doing my heart much good, and frankly, considering my sleep habits, a little bit of “hyper” might be a good thing.
A Larger Can
5 FebIt has been said that when you open a can of worms, you always need a larger can to put them back.
All of this mess on this end of the table came out of one of my mom’s tubs. Even at that, it’s not as bad as it could be, as I have tossed a lot, and mailed off scads of pictures to various relatives. Just to add to the fun, The Squire decided this was a jolly good time to go through his genealogy pictures.
We are both handicapped by the fact that nobody thought to label the back of their photos. My dad had a scrapbook dating from before the time he met my mom, with lots of pictures of Carol and Mary, but no last names. There is also a small mountain of pictures from pre-war Pearl Harbor. The landscapes are all labeled, but who does he mean by “the three of us”?
The poor Squire is doubly frustrated because his aunt kept a perfect scrap book, with names, places and dates, and when she died, her daughter promised faithfully to send him “all of mom’s pictures”, which she did. By ripping every single one out of the book. When he received this lumpy package, he called her, and she was astounded that he wanted “ahl thet ol’ wrahtin’ an stuff. I just tossed that in the far.” (You need a strong Tennessee accent to do that line properly.)
I’m down to the last one or two inches of this second tub, and I may just dump it into the third tub and go do something more productive, such as catch up on my ironing.
Back – Again
4 FebThe Squire and I went up to Bel Air yesterday for yet another injection in my back. Generally, I can drive myself up and hop in the car to go home, but the last two trips I’ve had to have an escort. This trip did seem to be a bit more involved than the last few, and I had more trouble walking than I anticipated. My leg felt fine on the outside, but when I got up to walk across the recovery room, my muscles were numb on the inside, and I moved like a person with an ill-fitting prosthesis. I had intended to swing by Joann’s and select a pattern to make our great-granddaughter a spring dress, but The Squire put the kibosh to that, and insisted we go straight home.
Just as well. He helped me up the stairs, fixed me an ice bag, and I slept for two hours.
I was showing my doctor my thumb, and told him I had regretted ever having it done. He admitted “it’s a tough one”, and referred to it as Game Keeper’s Thumb. Apparently, back in jolly ol’ when the Laird shot a mess of pheasant, it was the Game Keeper’s job to go collect them all and wring the necks of the birds that were still alive. (Not exactly a Game “Keeper” in my opinion, but who am I to argue?) He would grab the bird’s neck with both hands and turn in opposite directions. Eventually, the twisting motion would dislocate one thumb or the other, and the poor guy would be out of a job. I guess he could feed the chickens or something. The Squire said he just grabbed the chicken by the head and swung it around a couple of times.
I am almost down to the bottom of tub #2, and once this is empty I’ll take a break for a while, and maybe work on a dollhouse. I have one that desperately needs to be finished up, and is very close, except for a bloody thatched roof. At least I can get The Squire to help me with that; sorting photos was strictly a solo performance.
Totally Useless
3 FebMy dad used to say there was nothing in the world as useless as a really good pool player.
I wonder what he would say about a woman who has racked up over 1,500 consecutive winning games of Free Cell?
A Very Nice Surprise
2 FebBack in 1983, The Squire and I made a phoenix banner for our parish. (Back in September, I wrote about refurbishing it so we could carry it in the procession for our homicidal bishop.) About six weeks ago, it was removed from the spot in front of the side window where it had hung – and faded – for some 30-odd years, and was placed in the narthex. The fire department decided that where it had been located was a fire hazard, and it had to be moved. The problem was that when the church doors were opened, the banner was behind the door and couldn’t be seen.
About four months ago, the rector started putting the entire service into a Power Point presentation, on the left hand side of the chancel wall, which is a big help for folks who are new to the church, or just have trouble juggling both a Prayer Book and a hymnal. Yesterday morning, there was “my” banner, hanging on the right hand side! Fr. M announced that I had put a lot of work into it, and both hanging in front of the window or in the narthex it was half hidden, and this way it was in full view, and balanced out the Power Point.
Very nice, and I was quite touched by the gesture.
Thank you.
thisendoftheswamp 