thisendoftheswamp

Most evenings I go out around dusk and feed the snapping turtles in our pond. have three, which about four more than I’d like, but my mamma didn’t raise me to be an alligator wrestler.

One of them doesn’t want to take bread that is thrown into the water. He expects to be handfed and will climb out of the water for it. Usually, I put a chunk of ‘Store Bought White Bread” on the end of a small stick or one of the many chopsticks we have around the house. This particular “alligator” decided I wasn’t getting the bread to him quickly enough and decided to take a chunk out of my shoe. I’m fairly sure he figured he was biting my foot, and I am eternally grateful he was mistaken. Cn you image the damage he could have done to mere flesh and blood?

. . . but stupid instructions are another matter, entirely.

The Squire and I have been taking showers for so long that we no longer have a stopper for the bathtub. About three weeks ago, I was exposed to poison ivy, and as usual it got into my lymph system and proceeded to get all over. It moved from my index finger, up my arm, to my hip, the middle of my back – places I couldn’t even reach! I went to the local Doc-in-a-Box and was given two prescriptions and a suggestion that I take oatmeal baths to help soothe the itching.

I had to go several places to find a plug – apparently so many new-fangled faucets have the put hard-wired into the spigot that every few stores bother to sell them anymore. I did finally find one at the obvious place – Home Depot.

What threw me into absolute gales of laughter was that not only does the general public need to be told not to use the hair dryer in the shower or don’t pick up a chain saw by the round end, but they now need instructions on how to use a stopper! If you can’t read it, it says,

1: To insert, push stopper into drain opening.

2: To remove, pull stopper out by ring.

I weep for our young people.

My bladder and I got up at 5:30 Tuesday morning to find The Squire in the den, shaking from head to toe. Cold and clammy but couldn’t decide if he wanted to go to the local Doc in the Box, at the very least, or to the ER. I had a sleeping pill in my hand, planning on getting a few more hours sleep, so I told him he had five minutes to make up his mind, ‘coz if I took that pill he was stuck.

We went.

We actually got seen very quickly, but after several hours I folded my tent and went back home, ostensibly to get some rest. He called me back around 4:30 and said he had that after numerous x-rays and scans they had decided he had pneumonia, and while he had IV antibiotics, he could take pills at home just as well as in the hospital, so they were discharging him. We stopped at Panera for a BLT (for him) and an apple salad (for me), Took half of each home, and pretty much collapsed into bed.

Yesterday – Wednesday morning – The Squire announced he was going to church to mow the lawn. I said several blasphemous things, and he said he’d “just go look around”. We haven’t had any rain for a week, and there is none in the forecast for the next two weeks, so I don’t know how much he thought the grass had grown. He was back pretty quickly. Just walking around the grounds had exhausted him, and he knew there was no way he could tolerate riding around on the mower in the heat.

I’m sure we will both survive this, but as my beat and longest friend has often said of her own husband, “I must love him. I haven’t killed him.”

Yesterday I had the “pleasure” of dealing with three of the most undisciplined children I had ever seen in my life. Never have I been so glad to get out of a grocery store!

The oldest was the ringleader, playing tag with the other two, racing and chasing up and down the aisles, and calling to them. The middle child discovered her shoes slid on the floor, so she would stop suddenly and sail across the bagging area, then turn and do it again. The youngest of the trio just tried to copy whatever the others were doing.

All the time, their father was shouting at them like a drill sergeant. Momma said nothing the entire time. At one point the oldest was calling out to his father, while the dad was in a conversation with the mom. I finally tapped the kid on the shoulder and told him not to interrupt. “Just wait your turn.”

When they finally got to the checkout lane the girl began grabbing handfuls of candy from the lane behind her and tossing them onto their belt, where they were paid for without a murmur. I didn’t stick around for the end of the play, but the clerk who was scanning my groceries said they always acted that way.

Honestly, those kids were poster children for Planned Parenthood. “Don’t let this happen to you.”

I don’t remember exactly what I was doing yesterday afternoon, but I certainly will remember what I had to do today.

We woke up this morning to a massive mess on the front porch, because I had neglected to close the slider when I finished whatever it was I was doing.

The squirrels had waltzed in and ripped open two 5-pound bags of peanuts, plus knocked the lid off the metal trash can that holds the bird seed.

We also had two avian visitors, one of whom simply could NOT find the door to the outside. We spend quite a bit of time chasing that poor Blue Jay back and forth. That clear plastic where the bird is sitting keeps my model trains from falling down; I’m going to spend quite a bit of time cleaning the “snow” off the roofs of my mini buildings.

Oh, joy.

One of or great-grandsons wanted their new dog to sleep with him one night. Unfortunately, the dog – a Golden-Doodle – was too big to get onto his bed, but he was so heartbroken that his parents came up with another solution.

The dog couldn’t come to the boy, so the boy came to the dog. This is Tex and his dog, Cooper, looking totally at ease and comfortable together.

In all of Cookingdom there are few things more aggravating than having to crack open a can of Tomato Paste

The stuff comes in 6-ounce cans, but recipes only call for one tablespoon. The rest of it sits in the fridge and goes bad, no matter how you try to keep it useable. From what I understand this stuff comes in squeeze tubes in Europe, but that would probably been seen as a Communist plot by one political party or the other if we tried to introduce it in America . . .

This time around, I came up with an idea that I hope will solve the problem. I have a one-tablespoon cookie scoop, so I laid out a sheet of wax paper and then I emptied the can by plopping out recipe sized scoops of tomato paste and putting the entire business in the freezer. Once they were frozen solid, I popped them into a zip-lock, and labeled them.

Now, I can only hope I A) remember I have them next time I need them, and B) find them in the jumble that is the freezer.

The Squire was having some severe internal problems Sunday evening, so I carted him off to the Emergency Room. We should have known better. When I went to the hospital for my busted head, we arrived at 9:30 and left at 6:30 in the morning. This time, we again arrived at 9:30 Sunday night, and didn’t leave until 8:15 Monday morning.

I simply do not understand why they can’t just treat you and get it over with. We were there about an hour before they took The Squire’s vitals. Maybe an hour and a half later they took him back to draw blood. Sometime after that – based on the blood tests, I imagine – they called him back and hooked him to an IV. A bit later, they took him back to talk about his problem.

We’d been there about 9 hours.

Eventually, the staff took him to a cubicle. At this point, we’d been on our feet 24 hours. The Squire promptly fell asleep. I went to the cafeteria and got two strawberry yogurts and a cup of coffee, which set me back $10! Can you say, “Highway Robbery”? By the time the doctor finally saw him, and we got the paperwork, it was after 8 AM. We came home, had a breakfast, and went to bed. I only slept a few hours but went back to bed at 7 PM and slept straight through until 6:30 Tuesday morning.

One of the members of our knitting group mentioned that she had an appointment with her neurologist. “He’s checking for stones.”

“Did you say Neurologist or Urologist?”

“Why? Is there a difference?”

“Well, unless somebody told you that you have rocks in your head, a neuro isn’t going to be checking for stones.”