Just a quick note to say the baby came through the surgery with flying colours. They will be keeping him in the hospital for 24 to 48 hours, just to make sure all systems are Go, but things look fine at the moment.
Hooked up to an EKG, and still has the dark “baby hair” the comes with all new-borns in the family.
If it isn’t one thing…
…it’s something else. Eldest daughter called here shortly before 1 PM to say our grandson’s wife was heading to the hospital because their little boy was having projectile vomiting and dry diapers. Classic pyloric stenosis. This is a condition were the opening between the stomach and the intestines is either blocked or very narrow, and the baby cannot get any nourishment from the food ingested. It is obviously life-threatening, but it is cured with a fairly simply surgical procedure. Or as simple as surgery can be on an infant only a month old. He is on IVs right now, and they will do the surgery in the morning. Kristen’s sister is with her, as is her sister-in-law, but she is still a nervous wreck.
Poor Kristen is having to handle this very frightening situation when her husband is in the Middle East. As a shirt-tail member of the medical profession I know what this is, but it’s an entirely different situation when it is your first-born, an only child – and you’re alone. And it’s no picnic for Matthew, either, to be far away and unable to offer “aid and comfort”.
So far, they’ve had to deal with Kristin’s paralysis, jaundice, and now this. OK. Enough, please!
On the brighter side, it seems the pain in The Squire’s tummy is a reaction to medicine prescribed for the pain in his feet. Well, there are a zillion different pain killers on the market, so we’ll be able to handle that without too much trouble.
The man is a fast reader. He went to the library on Wednesday morning and last night he finished reading At The Sign of Triumph, in spite of having been on the road most of yesterday. All eight hundred pages. Yeesh!
I started in on it this morning, but I’m not making nearly the progress he made!
Or so said Edward VIII. And, today is also the anniversary of Krystal Nacht, which somehow just seems wildly appropriate.
And it is raining, to boot.
So – The Squire is settled in the recliner, reading the latest David Weber Safehold book, and I took advantage of the damp weather and his journey to outer space to pull the wallpaper off the dollhouse, and rebuild the drawers. All three drawers had come unglued, and one of them was missing a side and the back, so I dug out a piece of basswood and cut those. Much clamping and stacking of books.
These pictures look as if they were taken in a haunted house! There was a Monet over the fireplace; no idea where that went. Probably “classing up” some mouse’s nest, I imagine. The paper came off the bedroom walls in one large piece, but the moulding stayed put. This is rather mysterious, as the moulding was glued to the paper. Beats me.
The Squire and I left the house early (for us) and drove over to Kingsville to vote. Tout le monde was there, as they say. It took us an hour to cast our votes, and when we left the building, the line was even longer than when we arrived. A quick trip to the laundromat, and we got the clothes on the line as soon as we got home.
After a bite of lunch, I started in on the doll house. As I said before, the poor house has suffered from neglect, and is in horrible condition. Today, all I did was vacuum out the various dead leaves, dead bugs, and goodness-knows-what from the rooms, and then wiping down the entire house with a wet rag.
These are views from the rear of the house, the side, and the front. As you can see, I have my work cut out for me! The entire roof is missing from the left side, and the tower has also lost its roof. The front door is gone, and most of the windows are either missing entirely or laying on the floor.
All last week, I had to be up at 5:30 to get myself scraped into a heap, made reasonably presentable, run a rake through my hair, and get out the door. Saturday morning – yesterday – Blazer decided 5:30 was time enough for me to crawl out of bed.
This morning, the silly dog was still on daylight time, and had me out of bed at half-past four. Thanks a bunch, puppy! I let him out, forgot to turn off the alarm, and awakened The Squire. And probably half the neighbourhood, to boot.
Gave him a short breakfast and wandered back to bed. Unfortunately, I was not able to get back to sleep as easily as I had hoped, as my Restless Leg Syndrome kicked in. Quite literally. I was all over the bed. Back downstairs, and took a second pill. As a result, I was honest-to-goodness staggering when The Squire pried me out from between the covers. Not a happy camper.
We had yet another supply priest this morning – a very nice lady named Retta. She was very pleasant, understanding our little quirks, and preached a good sermon. We’ve had a few priests who wandered so far afield they – and we – seemed to forget what the message was supposed to BE.
And then, when we got home from church, Blazer met us at the top of the drive. No leash, and the kitchen door was wide open. Lovely. Apparently, The Squire had turned the latch, and I had followed him out without a) turning on the alarm, and b) hadn’t even pulled the door shut, which allowed Blazer to nudge it open with his nose.
I told you I wasn’t awake!
I spent most of the afternoon working on our grandson’s dollhouse. I made this up for Matthew when he was about five, and after he and his younger sister both outgrew it, the house languished first in the barn and then on the porch. Neither location was what you’d call “optimal” and it is in sad shape. I’ve ordered new wallpaper and carpeting, but the poor house practically needs to be completely rebuilt. I may invite his wife to come down and lend a hand if we want to get this job finished before he gets home in mid-January.
The original house is here: http://www.picturetrail.com/lady_anne Scroll down to “Matthew’s McKinley”. I’ll post new shots here from time to time.
After a rough start on Monday, the rest of the week went much more smoothly.
The place where I am working is one of the best in the world. Management does everything possible to provide a pleasant atmosphere, and it shows in the people in the office. I’ve never met anybody who was unhappy or snarly, and that has certainly not been the case in many other places I have worked.
I left early enough on Tuesday to take a chance on going over Phoenix Road, which cuts a mile off the trip, and is at least five minutes faster. I used that route the rest of the week. There is very little traffic, and only one light at either end of a single lane bridge, to prevent accidents. The road curves through pastures and runs beside a tiny hamlet which I’m willing to bet was the original town of Phoenix. A cluster of turn-of-the-century houses, painted in many colours, perched higgledy-piggledy on the side of hill. It just lights up my day to see them!
The Squire had dinner ready for me Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. Both last night and this evening we went out for dinner. Last night was a bit less than a success; we went to Ruby Tuesday, as we had a coupon. His steak was overcooked and I think my pasta dish had been made up and left under a heat lamp for a bit too long, as it was very dry. Tonight, we went to a local eatery, The Sunshine Grille, and had a fabulous meal for about two-thirds the price. I’d rather patronize local businesses, any way.
When I called home to say I was leaving work, The Squire murmured that he’d “love to meet me for dinner”. After forty-some years, he’s still my knight in shining armor. Or amour. Whichever.
I woke up a bit early today, and got out of the house a few minutes before 7 AM. That was pretty much the last thing that went well all day. Fortunately, I am working this week at one of the nicest places in the world, which made up for a lot. Good company and great people!
On the way to work, I got stuck behind not one, but two school buses. One turned off and another pulled in right behind it. I was in such a hurry to make up for lost time that I sailed past my turn and had to crank up the GPS to find my way to the office. As a result, I was so late getting to work I had to look for a parking spot.
When I got into the office, I discovered Debbie had turned off the computer at the “box” and had left the phones turned on. I had to lift the box off the floor so I could find the switch, and just let the phone ring off the hook, as I can’t locate extensions without the computer. When I went to lunch, I dropped a glass of water all over the cafeteria floor.
When I left work I couldn’t remember where I parked my car. And traffic was backed up for over a mile on Sunshine Avenue, due to an accident.
Bless him, The Squire had dinner ready to put on the table, and sharpened pencils waiting with the day’s cross word puzzles. I’m going to take a hot shower and collapse someplace.
This morning Blazer woke me by standing outside the bedroom door and “talking” – complaining quite loudly that he was starving and what was I going to do about it? I pried open one eye and looked at the clock. 7:05. A fine thing! I don’t have to get up until 8:30 on Sunday because I don’t eat breakfast before I go to church. Grumbling mightily (The dog isn’t the only one who can do that.) I staggered out of bed and went downstairs to put him out, figuring I’d go back to bed and sleep for another hour or so.
Much to my horror, it was actually five after eight! The clock, which is propelled by some mysterious mechanism based in outer space, had assumed Daylight Savings had stopped, and rested overnight, to reset itself to Standard Time. (The clock also tells us what day of the week it is, which, with both of us being retired, often comes in handy.)
I am just grateful that this little goblin did not attack tomorrow morning, and make me an hour late getting ready for work. That would have been a catastrophe!
Last night, The Squire came in to say – and show me – that his tummy was all red and swollen, worse than it’s been so far. “I’m going to call the doctor first thing in the morning.”
He had a very rough night last night, and when he staggered, bleary-eyed and wretched, into the den, I made soothing noises and went off to fix his breakfast. Normally, this chore is handled by him, not me, but I really felt sorry for him.
At 9:05 I handed him the phone. He laid it back on the desk and informed me he wasn’t going to bother. “It looks better this morning, so I’ll just wait.”
“Fine. You just do that. But do not wake me at some ungodly hour and ask me to race you to the ER.”
I swear, with the right jury…
This morning, I woke up at 6 AM. Fed the animals, inside and out, ate, showered, and took the dog for a mile-long walk at the park.
Those who know and love me (and even those who don’t even like me) realize this behaviour is wildly out of character.
I have always needed more sleep than the average bear. Even as a small child, I took two naps a day until I started school, and always took a nap when I got home, until my dad came in and wakened me for dinner. On one memorable occasion, I declared to my grandmother that I was NOT tired, and wanted to stay up and visit with the company. She took me downstairs and showed me that everybody else was sacked out on the sofa and chairs in the family room. (I realize now that they were all faking!) I reluctantly trudged back up the steps and again declared I was not the least bit sleepy. “Close your eyes and see if you can fool us.”
Well, I fooled them. I slept for eighteen hours! Apparently, I was the only one in the house who got any rest, as everybody else kept coming in to see if I was still breathing.
I also managed to sleep through a fire drill when I was at Samuel Ready. All I can tell you is that I woke up with my “dungarees” over my pajama bottoms, but everybody was talking about the bells going off, and the fact that we had all gotten up and dressed, and stood outside on the Athletic Field. Couldn’t prove it by me.
