Don’t Do That!

20 May

We have all interesting character quirks, but my mum was just plain weird.

She made it very clear that she raised us the same way she was raised, but I don’t buy that theory. I mean, my sister and I weren’t allowed to get a driver’s license until our 18th birthday because that was when she got hers. And if we wanted to stay after school for French Club or a play rehearsal, we could find a way home, because she had to find a way home when she was in school. Never mind that she lived in the city and could “find her way home” on the streetcar; we lived in the suburbs and not taking the school bus meant a five mile hike.

It was the other odd things that baffled even her own mother. I’ve already discussed making the bed (April 10, 2012) and washing my hair (January 18, 2015) but other things she wouldn’t allow were mysterious.

On one of the blogs I follow (http://ajoyfulchaos.blogspot.com/) the writer discussed a birthday cake she made for her mum. It is apparent from her blog that she helped her mum in the kitchen a lot, and felt fairly confident that she could manage making this cake by herself. My mother very seldom allowed anyone in the kitchen with her. My sister and I were expected to do the dishes but the only cooking experience I had was peeling potatoes, and in the summer, peeling squash to put in the freezer. If it hadn’t been to Home Ec. classes in school I’d have hardly known which end a spatula to put in the frying pan.  One year – maybe 1986 or so – I took my godson to visit my parents in Roxboro and before we ate, Steven started to set the kitchen table. My mum told him to cease and desist, as he was “making her nervous”.

The big, big thing was that my sister and I were never, ever allowed to touch each other. When we went on vacation we usually had to share a bed in the motel, and we took turns sleeping on the floor, because we were too worried that our bodies might bump into each other during the night. We always packed a cooler and camp stove and ate at roadside stops, rather than in restaurants, and sometimes the family would take one of the nature walks set out in the woods. We were trekking along and Lynn stumbled. I reached out to grab her hand, and from the back of the line came our mother’s voice.  “Don’t touch your sister!”

It’s a wonder I don’t have even more “interesting quirks” than I do.

 

 

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Book Review

16 May

I am about halfway through the most delightful book. If you can, get your hands on a copy of The Little Old Lady Who Broke All the Rules,  by Catharina Ingelman-Sundberg.

Five elderly people, friends since childhood, break out of a poorly-run senior home, and go on a mad romp across Sweden, having the time of their lives.

I promise you, it is a HOOT!

 

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No Place For Sick People

13 May

I had a bout of really severe chest pain Saturday afternoon (Hey! That was only yesterday!) and The Squire insisted upon taking me to See Some Body.

We opted to go to Patient First, simply because we knew it would be faster. MUCH  faster. The parking lot was absolutely empty; we were afraid they were closed, in spite of the “8:00 to 10:00/365 days a year sign on the door.  A notice in the waiting room said to interrupt if you were having chest pain, and they really did hop to it. A nice fellow from North Carolina – a former military medic – swapped stories with The Squire while I was hooked up to an EKG machine. After much backing-and-forthing I was put into an ambulance and transported to the local hospital.

Where we waited and waited and waited. An hour and a half before I was seen by anybody.  I did get a chest X-ray, and blood drawn, and then I lay in the bed and read my book.  For reasons which escape me, I had grabbed my anti-spasmodic meds as I ricocheted through the bathroom before we left, and as the time neared 9:00 PM I had The Squire get me a glass of water and took them. To cut to the chase, the doctor decided to admit me: A) I had chest pain radiating to my jaw, and B) I’m over 65. What with on thing and another, it was midnight before I even had a prayer of getting some rest. However, I did manage to sleep pretty soundly from 12 M to 4:30 AM, so no reason to complain, there.

It really was a good thing I’d taken those pills in the ER, because they weren’t included in the orders when I got to my room. However,  they were on this list for this morning, and I turned them down.  More on that in a moment.

I was NPO this morning, as they were taking me down for a stress test “early”. We all know how “early” that can be in a hospital. My nurse did call to find out where we stood and was told I was number five on the list. She’d forgotten to ask what number they were on, but called back to double check. “Within the hour.”

During the discussion with the nurse in Radiology, I learned the stress test involved my having to lie perfectly still for 20 to 25 minutes! Fat chance of that, unaided. We called up to my nurse’s station and she sent down one of the anti-spasmodics I had refused earlier. Worked a treat! I galloped along on the treadmill for a bit, and then went over to take a nap in a CT-scan sort of machine. I drifted off to sleep, and The Squire met me in my room around 1:00, just in time for lunch. And thanks be to God for that! It had been just about 24 hours since we’d eaten lunch back at the Rice Paddy.

After I ate, the nurse removed the IV port from my arm, put on a bandage, and went about her business. A few moments later, The Squire put his head out my door and yelled, “Hey! My wife is bleeding in here!” I had blood everywhere! On the floor, on the bedclothes, and on MY clothes. I was holding one hand my elbow, catching blood as it continued to pour from my veins. What a mess!

All day long, everyone was very nice, very pleasant, and professional, and the food at the hospital was really good.

In the middle of all this commotion, The Squire was in charge of the parish’s Mother’s Day Brunch. Everything had been bought, and he had a crew to help him, but he did have to show up and boss people around for a while. He said Blazer simply refused to leave his post outside the bedroom door, waiting for Mummy to come back. It was a struggle to get him to go out to make a puddle.

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Mimi’s Little Helper

11 May

Local daughter was cleaning out the garage, and her granddaughter (our great-grand, in case you lost count) offered to “help”.

The garden hose was in use, and LD was going barefoot, but the Munchkin wanted boots. Then, because Mimi was wearing gloves, the Munchkin also had to have a pair.

Aubrey helpAnd here she is, all dressed up and ready to work!

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Magic Numbers

10 May

This is the label from the shrimp dish we had for dinner this evening.  There are five skewers in the box.  According to the label, five skewers equals three and a half servings. Who comes up with these things, anyway? How do you divide five pieces among three and a half people? Who has a half a person in their family? A small child, perhaps?

And, for what it’s worth, these things were hot enough to catch fire all by themselves. We both enjoy Szechuan food but, Lawsy! Woo-hoo! There was a second type – garlic and pepper – and we might consider trying those next time.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

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Don’t Forget!

3 May

I went up to the farmer’s market the other day to pick up peanuts – $64 for a 50 pound bag – and got some rhubarb at the same time.  Last night, I made up a rhubarb and strawberry pie, with a crunch top.

It looked and smelled heavenly but I realized, when I opened the oven door, that the cookie sheet I intended to put under it was still sitting on the kitchen counter.

Talk about a royal mess!

I went over to knitting this morning, and when I came home The Squire had cleaned up the mess I’d left behind.  We had pie for dinner, and it was well worth the hassle.

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This Old House

27 Apr

I read an article a day or so back, listing things that made a house seem dated. Paneling, wallpaper, brass chandeliers, pull shades, and drapes with tie backs.

Well, there you go, folks.  When we moved in, every single room on the ground floor was paneled. I felt as if I was living in a coffin! Not only that, but the paneling in the bathroom splintered when it got wet! Who thought that was a good idea? We did get that covered over – with wallpaper – about ten years after we moved in, but it took me for-bloody-ever to convince The Squire we needed to Do Something with the living room. Even at that, I had to agree to leave the fireplace wall uncovered, although the dear man did finally admit we should have done it years ago.  The chandeliers in the dining room are brass, and it is both wainscoted and papered. We have pull shades in the bedrooms; light and airy doesn’t cut it if you want to sleep past 4 AM around here.  As a matter of fact, we also have pull shades in the living room, but they are all the way up out of sight. We only use them when we have company spend the night.

The problem is that my taste in decorating pretty much begins and ends with Federal style furniture. Williamsburg is my ideal. The guest room, which we redid in the spring of 2016, is more-or-less “country” style but other than the kitchen, that’s the most modern room in the house. I do draw the line at cooking with a wood stove.

So – it’s dated.  Nothing in the house is orange or avocado, we don’t have any shag rugs, and I don’t have a slew of magnets on the fridge.

Deal with it.

 

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Pushing Up Daisies

25 Apr

“This is Brianna”, she said.

“I’m calling from the mortgage company”, she said.

“I need a copy of your husband’s death certificate”, she said.

We won’t go into what I said, thank you very much. Apparently the dear man has been dead and gone since October of 2015. And the rat didn’t even tell me!  Yeesh.

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We Shall See

24 Apr

Yesterday I hauled myself out of bed at 5 AM to begin putting drops in my eyes in preparation for cataract surgery.  Every ten minutes, for two hours! In between, I fed the critters, inside and out, and took a shower.  I was NPO, but I woke The Squire at 6:00 so he, at least, could get some breakfast. One of us needed to be civil, and it obviously wasn’t going to be me.

We got to the Eye Center in plenty of time, and sat around for half an hour. Why don’t they schedule things more realistically? Then we discovered I’d handed the receptionist the wrong insurance card and she wanted $$300-some dollars.  We’d been issued new insurance cards the first of the year, but they are not dated, which explained why I was still carrying the old one; luckily The Squire had his card in his wallet, so that was settled without bloodshed.

The getting-ready was about as easy as anything I’ve ever done. Take off my blouse and lay down. They told me I didn’t even have to take off my shoes, but I’m already done so. I explained to the anesthesiologist about my problem with anything over my face, and she promised me they’d take care of that before I awakened. The surgeon came in and spoke to me and then drew a circle above my left eye – “So we do the correct one”.

I don’t remember anything else until I woke up in the recovery area – with my legs trying to run away without me.  Every other time I’ve ever had any sort of surgery I not only didn’t have Restless Leg Syndrome but I didn’t need any medication for a night or two afterward.  This time – boy, howdy!  They strongly recommended I take my anticonvulsant before I come in next time, NPO or not.

I was a bit disappointed when we removed the bandages that my vision was so blurry. The Squire was upset that I couldn’t see as well as he could right off the bat. I feel as if I’m looking in a foggy mirror after having gotten out of the shower. This is normal, and it is already getting better. By Thursday or Friday I should be good to go. And then, they want to do the right eye! I didn’t realize it was bad enough to need correcting, but the doctor told me that was only because it looked good compared to how bad this eye was. Once I see clearly with my left eye, I’ll know how bad the right one is. Makes sense.

The business with the shoes was that I am not supposed to bend over or do anything strenuous for the next three days. The Squire had to help me get dressed this morning. He also had to feed all of the critters and lug the bread machine out of the cupboard. I was able to set the table all by myself.

However, I’m not allowed to run the vacuum or unload the dishwasher. Oh, such a pity!

 

 

 

 

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Lost in Translation

2 Apr

I am fairly well-known for being OCD – or, in my case, CDO as the letters must be in order.  I’m a nut about making sure the hymnals and prayer books are neatly place in the racks (I’ve been known to “tidy up” the pews when I visit another church.)  Light switches must all be facing one direction – all up, or all down.  My spices are in alphabetical order, and all of the girls names begin with the same letter and the oldest has four letters in her name, the middle girl was five letters, and the youngest has six. However, that was entirely accidental.

Our friend Mac speaks English as if it was a second language (it isn’t) and his wife is not much better.

This evening as we were leaving the parish hall after our knitting group, I walked out of the hall in the dark, so I could get all of the light switches in order. Mrs. Mac laughed at me, and remarked that I was “just too, too AC/DC.”

I should hope not!

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