Topless Club Sandwich

You’ve probably heard of the sandwich generation, the group in the middle still raising kids while taking care of aging parents. Well, I was a club sandwich, taking care of two generations older than me and two generations younger.

My grandfather became homeless at the age of 92 when his house burned down in the Oakland fire of 1991. He lost everything. I was living alone in a four bedroom house, so he and his girlfriend moved in. Not only did he need someplace to live, but he needed help dealing with settling his insurance claims, replacing lost documents, building a new wardrobe, managing his health care, and buying a replacement car. Yes, he was still driving.

My mother, his only child, was suffering from dementia. She had gone downhill after the death of my father in 1984, so I took over managing her life and care in a nearby facility. I tried having her live with me, hiring people to assist, but she was insufferable. She refused to let caregivers do their job. She wouldn’t eat food they prepared, wouldn’t allow them to bathe and dress her, and wouldn’t go to doctor’s appointments without me. To preserve my sanity, I placed her in a care home in 1990, but still managed her affairs, took her to medical visits, and spent time with her.

Late 1992, my beloved brother was dying of AIDS in Issaquah, Washington. Providing respite to his partner by sharing caregiving, I flew to Washington from San Jose on Friday afternoons and returned Sunday evenings. Ken died in January, 1993 and I served as executor of his estate with all its concomitant duties.

Later in 1993, my younger daughter’s marriage failed.  Her ex-husband left the state and provided no support for her or their three kids. I could not bear to see them suffer; I needed to know they were safe. So the four of them moved into a house down the street from where I lived. I provided rent, transportation, baby-sitting, and pre-school tuition.

And I worked full time as a technical writer for IBM.

When my brother and grandfather died in 1993, I came into a small amount of money. I knew I had to use some of it to bring a little fun into my life. Taking a long hard look at the way I spent my time and the towering responsibilities I still shouldered, I realized driving was the most fun I had during those dreary days. I loved driving: the isolation, the time to myself, singing out loud, drumming on the steering wheel, and forgetting about the difficult reality of my day-to-day life. I was still locked into taking care of my mother, my daughter, and my grandkids, so my escape would have to be limited to the time I spent in the car. But, I could make it a lot more fun. I could do it in a convertible.

At the age of 54, I walked into a Toyota dealership and plunked down cash for a white Celica GT convertible. It was sweet, with a big smile for a grill across the front of it, demure retracting headlights,  a sexy spoiler on the rear, grey leather seats, and a black rag top. The first few days I was afraid to think about what I had impetuously done. I continued driving my SUV while the convertible huddled in the garage. From time to time, I opened the door from the kitchen to the garage, saw that it was really there, and closed the door wondering what in hell had possessed me.

Before long, my daughter’s car died and I gave her my SUV. The convertible became my only car. I began to realize I could do more than just drive to and from work; I gradually worked up courage and took off on weekends. My favorite getaways involved driving the California coast, especially the Big Sur coast down to Morro Bay and back. I processed grief and solved many of the world’s problems on those solo trips. I had no desire for company. The freedom to stop, go, and meander with no consideration for anyone else and no one to take care of was so liberating. I never questioned whether the top would be up or down. It was down. Every weekend it wasn’t raining I took off. Cold weather didn’t stop me, top down, heater and radio blasting, I was free. Money bought me hours of happiness as I explored California topless.

During this time I was seeing a psychotherapist because I had so many tough issues to deal with. I couldn’t focus and sort out what I needed to do. My mind was a muddled mess. On the shrink’s suggestion, I took a month off work to get my head together. In retrospect, I know I resolved much more behind the wheel than I did in therapy. He expressed concern about my impulsive spending. I was worried about not having any fun.

Supporting my daughter in a separate household became unaffordable, so she and her three boys moved in with me. We were crowded in my 1500 square foot San Jose home and I began to consider other options. We decided to move from Silicon Valley to the Sierra Foothills, where I bought a large home with a huge yard and a swimming pool. I rented a room in Silicon Valley during the week and commuted to the hills on weekends. Again, driving became the best part of my week. I developed what I called Zen driving, where I effortlessly, but fully consciously, moved through the countryside on the 180 mile drive. Heavy traffic never bothered me. I saw as it as opportunity for more solitude and contemplation. As always, when in my magic convertible zone, I alternated meditation with singing, listening to classical music at a very high volume, and transporting myself in more ways than one.

One particular Sunday night, I was returning to Silicon Valley around 10:00 P.M.; there was virtually no traffic. A Strauss waltz blared from the speakers in the door while I waltzed down the highway, staying in my lane, but swinging from one side to the other as I counted out one-two-three, one-two-three. It took a while before I noticed the red light of a highway patrol car in my rear-view mirror. I pulled over and the patrolman approached my car. His first question was, “Have you been drinking?” I assured him I had not. He said he had observed me weaving within my lane, not crossing the line, so he wouldn’t cite me, but he wanted to know what was going on. He let me go with a recommendation that I restrict my waltzing to the dance floor.

During the time I owned my convertible, it suffered three injuries. The first was a sad encounter with a BMW driven by a distracted teenager. After a month in the repair shop and $13,000 worth of rehabilitation, it was nearly as good as new.

My beloved car suffered its second mishap on the morning of January 22, 1997, when my older daughter gave birth to her second son. I was so excited by the news, I backed into the garage door frame on my way to the hospital. The result was a small dent in the rear bumper which I left unrepaired. I thought of it as a birthmark.

My long distance commuting ended when I began telecommuting and anticipated retiring. Many days I didn’t even leave the home in the hills I shared with my younger daughter and her three boys. The convertible often stayed in the garage while my daughter drove our Suburban. My getaway drives became explorations of the Sierra mountain passes. I drove them all. My faithful wheels managed the 10,000 foot granite summits with ease. In the middle of October, 1999, golden Quaking Aspens shimmered, cowboys rounded up cattle grazing in high alpine meadows, and the first snowflakes fell on my unprotected head; it nourished my soul. 

By this time, my oldest grandson was 15, looking forward to getting his driver’s license, and hopeful that he would inherit my beautiful little car. He jumped the gun one day when he decided to take the convertible for an unauthorized spin. However, he was thwarted when, while still in the driveway, he banged the convertible into the Suburban. The damage to the Suburban was undetectable, but the Celica suffered a disfiguring blow to the right front quarter panel, and its left headlight could no longer retract. I couldn’t deal with it. The car had 120,000 miles on it, the threads on the rag top were showing signs of wear, and now this unsightly blemish. I decided to sell. I ran an ad and agreed to sell to the first respondent, a young man who planned to surprise his wife with a birthday gift. I sold it for about half what it was worth, but more important it went to another loving home.

Batteries Not Included

I’m old. Don’t argue with me, I’m proud of it. It took me a long time to get here. Why do people always want to disagree when you declare you’re old? “You’re only as old as you think you are;” “you don’t look near your age;” “you’re young at heart;” “age is a state of mind;” et cetera, ad nauseam.

 I don’t mind being old. It has some real advantages. I don’t menstruate; I can’t get pregnant; I won’t lose my job; I get to pre-board airplanes (when not in the middle of a pandemic); I get discounts; people make way and help me without being asked; and I can say nearly anything and people will forgive me because, well, I’m old.

 Don’t get me wrong, there are some inconveniences. Consider getting up in the morning...

 I reach for my glasses on the nightstand and knock them to the floor. Retrieving them is not simple. First, I must detach myself from my Cpap. I turn off the wheezing machine, take off the head gear, and put it on the nightstand. I then remove the chin strap which prevents dry mouth by wrapping my head and chin in Lycra. I’m hoping the strap does double duty in mitigating the droop of my sagging chin(s). 

Back to picking up my glasses -- they are out of reach and my knees don’t function very well, so I hoist myself from bed to the wheelchair, I try to bend over to snag them but realize I am risking tumbling to the floor, so I wisely wheel myself out to the living room where I left my grabbers. Back to the bedroom, the glasses are retrieved, planted on my nose and the world is a brighter and clearer place. Somehow, being able to see magically improves my hearing a tad. Impaired vision easily solved.

Now that I can see what I'm doing, off to the shower I roll, after gathering towel, ensuring bath seat is in place, retrieving hospital-style walker, checking on supply of body wash and shampoo, and adjusting water temperature. Feels so good to have a clean start on another beautiful day. No need to blow dry my hair, I’m not going anywhere. After brushing my teeth, I insert my partial plate. No one can tell I don’t have a mouth full of pearly whites. 

 But the hearing problem still persists in considerable measure.  I retrieve the hearing aids from their overnight UV cleaning box, brush all their little nooks and crannies with the little brush that I, thankfully, have not dropped on the floor this time. It’s time to replace the batteries. I remove the paper tab and hold them in my hand for a minute to warm them up and thus extend their life. Do you have any idea how long a minute can be? Inserting the batteries, again grateful I did not drop them, I push them into my ear canals and loop them over the top. Having rather small ears, between glasses and hearing aids, it’s getting a bit crowded back there.

 I select and put on my underwear, with a panty shield, just in case...

 I choose pants with a leg wide enough to pull up over my knee to provide easier access to my lower legs for wrapping in Ace bandages. A pullover shirt that doesn’t require fiddling with buttons completes my outfit. I only add accessories if I’m going out – and that hasn’t happened in months. (Editor's note: She says that every few weeks whenever she goes out again.)

 Next steps require assistance. Because of venous stasis, my legs need compression wrapping. Ace bandages are wrapped around both legs from knee to ankle to foot.  When my pant leg is back in place my knee brace is attached to my right leg to add in stability and mobility. 

 Finally, a handful of pills regulate blood pressure, heart rhythm, and cholesterol, topped off with a cup of strong black coffee to jump start my day. My loins and all other parts are girded. Carpe diem!

 Total elapsed time: 90 minutes. 

 I am more of a puzzle than Ikea furniture. I’m thinking of getting a tattoo that says, “Batteries not included. Some assembly required.”

 

Quarantine Day #124

My quarantine began March 1, but some aspects go back even further. I fell September 2 last year, and  fractured my right tibia and bruised both legs thoroughly from ankle to knee (I have pictures, but I'm pretty sure you don't want to see them). I hobbled around for a couple of months and finally was unable to walk at all in early November. I've been using a wheel chair ever since. So, my world became very much smaller and closely resembled what I am now experiencing in quarantine.

I don't know the date of my last haircut, probably sometime in October. Hair hanging in my face drives me crazy, so I've adopted a Pipi Longstocking coiffure. What you don't see in the picture is the mullet formed by the hairs that refused to be bunched up. Pretty goofy, but it's become my go-to daily hair style.

February 16 was the day I last set foot in a restaurant. Sister Valery and I had lunch with brother Rick -- the first time I had seen him since he and wife Kathy split up. And shopping at Trader Joe's sometime before the first of March, was the last time I set foot in a grocery store.

I now do all my shopping online, using e-cart for groceries and Amazon for just about everything else. Ben picks up the groceries and my prescriptions from CVS. But it really doesn't feel much different and I don't feel like I'm suffering. I've visited with a few friends and family members sitting outside, maintaining social distance and using masks as appropriate. No shared food. On a few occasions people have come into my home briefly. Upon their departure, I run around with Clorox wipes and Lysol spray.

All that said, I am not suffering, I don't feel deprived. My (inadequate) income continues. And like always, I sew, read, cook, write, and pay rapt attention to politics and social movements.

Here's my mask inventory for sale: all are adult size, have nose wires, and soft elastic bands that fit over the ear. I'm going to work on some smaller sizes and a couple of different styles in the near future. I have several of each of those in the bottom picture. The top ones are one of a kind at the moment, but I have more of the same fabrics and will be making more.

Obligatory, Late, and Final Dogwood Report

This year's photo of my Dogwood tree's blossoms is ten days later than usual for a couple of reasons. Spring is about two weeks later than usual and my enthusiasm is waning. But, here it is:

I had the tree severely pruned last fall, all the lower branches which were beginning to obstruct the walkway have been removed, so the tree now has a taller, thinner aspect than a typical dogwood. Here's a link to last year's picture taken ten days earlier. Notice in last year's April 18 picture the tree is already in leaf. This year, ten days later, the leaves are just beginning to appear. It's been a long snowy winter for this part of the country.

My enthusiasm is waning because in my heart, we have moved back to California.  We will be leaving on June 20, nine weeks from tomorrow. Logan will be travelling to Europe June 2-16 and as soon as he returns, catches his breath, and does his laundry, we'll be on the road. So much to do before that time! So much stuff to sort through and get rid of. So much packing and planning. So much overwhelm!

Logan has started a regimen of walking to build up his endurance for the trip. He is very determined to be able to participate fully. I'm excited for him. I think he has my wanderlust. While he's gone, I plan a quick trip to Charleston, South Carolina. South Caroline is the only state I haven't visited, so I want to check off one more item on my bucket list. Tomorrow evening I'm checking off another item. I'll report more on that next time.

All Clear

A momentous doctor's appointment today! Logan has been given clearance to travel to California this weekend and to Europe in early June. It's like a new sun has been hung in the sky. We are both feeling very optimistic and positive about his future plans. Here's what his spine looks like these days:

The titanium brackets hold a carbon cage filled with boned fragments from one of his ribs. The fragments will fuse to build solid bone.
In further progress notes, he drove from doctor's appointment, his first behind-the-wheel experience since March 6. And I didn't even cringe once.

Improvement

Today has been a really good day. Logan went to school for half a day and I experienced that euphoria that comes when your youngest child starts kindergarten. You know the kind of day you torture yourself trying to decide if:

1. You should run naked through a meadow whilst tossing daisies in the air, or
2. Stay in your jammies all day eating Godiva chocolates while reading bodice-bursting romance novels, or
3. Begin a movie marathon wherein you go by yourself to the movies, get a really big box of really buttery popcorn, and a slurpee, and milk duds and catch up on all the Oscar nominees you failed to see
4. Have a late champagne breakfast (does Dom Perignon go with with Cheerios?)
5. Meet your best girl friend for lunch and gossip and dis all the people you mutually feel superior to
6. Do your income taxes

Well, at least I've narrowed the list down to five items. I'm sure I'll get at least one of them accomplished today, but I have many days ahead to work on it.

Foot Notes

Today Logan's orthopedic surgeon told us Logan's foot is healing nicely. The dislocation is perfectly in place and the fracture is knitting just as it should. He is now cleared to bear weight on it as he continues to wear the boot cast. He tried walking without the walker and can manage limited distances. If the neurosurgeon clears him next Tuesday, we will go to California for Easter weekend.
We hated saying good-bye to Valery as she began her drive up to Kansas City to catch her flight back to California this evening. Her presence allowed me precious hours of respite spent with my quilting buddies and enjoying a glass of wine with friend Sharon. Valery  cooked, she cleaned, she cheered us up, took us out for meals and spread joy.
Kevin and Rachel came down Friday afternoon. It was great seeing them and seeing Rachel's hair starting to grow out. Support of my family has been so healing to both Logan and me during these very difficult weeks.

Small Stuff

Logan has an ingrown toenail. He's had it since before he was injured. I pointed it out to the medical team in the ER. They said not to worry about it, that he would be receiving massive doses of antibiotics that would take care of it. But, I continued to worry about it and would point it out to various medical folks over the next three weeks. Everyone assured me they would take care of it. No one did. It really began to annoy me. Yesterday, Logan had a check up at the trauma clinic. I pointed out the infected, swollen, oozing toe. They said, go see his primary care physician. So today we went to the primary care physician who looked at it, prescribed antibiotics, Epsom salt soaks, and a return visit in four weeks. I was not especially pleased at deferring aggressive treatment four more weeks. Then, a twenty-five year old man who had broken his neck in a motorcycle accident wheeled into the waiting room in his very elaborate wheel chair. He had come from his nearby apartment home where he lived with his grandmother. He is a paraplegic, completely paralyzed from the waist down with some limited use of his upper limbs, an intact mind and charming smile. He wanted a referral to physical therapy. He said he could get there three times a week when his grandmother went in for her dialysis.
I had been feeling so overwhelmed and sorry for myself, but oh man, lessons like this are a real sock in the gut. Ingrown toenails really are small stuff.

To the Mall

Tomorrow is Danny's 25th birthday/ I think of him as my 50th birthday gift. Planning to celebrate Danny''s arrival around the 18th of April, we were all surprised when he made his appearance three weeks early. Because he was early, he was jaundiced, a bilirubin baby. He was placed under ultraviolet lights in a preemie isolette which his 8 pound 3 ounce body filled to overflowing. Had he been full term, the doctors speculated he would have weighed over eleven pounds.
Today Colleen took Logan out to the mall to gift shop for Danny. Logan propelled himself around on his scooter and wore himself out. When he got home, he recuperated with a four hour nap. Colleen's nap lasted only half that long.
Logan spent most of the rest of the day on the couch, cheering the Padres on to their first win of the season. All in all, it was a pretty good day.

Crash Report

Most of you already know Logan had a terrible automobile accident on March 6, 2014. While driving alone south of Ozark, he went off the road, crashed through some trees, and came to rest upside down in his car. Witnesses immediately called the highway patrol and went to the scene. Within fifteen minutes he was loaded into a helicopter and was on his way to the hospital. His injuries included a slight collapse of one lung, a severely dislocated left foot, and a crushed L1 vertebra. The foot was set immediately in the emergency room, the lung recovered without intervention, and he had surgery to replace his vertebra. The damaged vertebra was removed along with the surrounding discs, and a carbon "cage" filled with bone from one of his ribs was secured with titanium hardware. Fortunately, there was no nerve damage. He had lots of bruising and abrasions all over. He was conscious and communicating throughout the rescue and ER process.

Twenty days later, he returned home. Colleen is here with me and helping with his care as he quickly gains strength and ability to care for himself. He must use a back brace anytime he is not flat on his back, but he can put it on and take it off by himself. The walking cast on his foot remains on all the time, except when he is showering. A plethora of mobility assistance devices are at his disposal: crutches, a "scooter", and a walker. At the moment, he seems to prefer the walker because it is useful in getting up and down.

We have lots of follow-up appointments scheduled over the next weeks, but would love to see any of our friends who would like to stop by. Understandably, after such a long confinement in the hospital, Logan loves to get out. He has been out to the movies, dinner, and just riding along on errands.

Some days are still very difficult and filled with pain, others seem normal and bright. We look forward to tipping the balance toward brightness.

I am finding that scheduling all these appointments and taking care of all the business attendant to the accident and hospitalization require a great many phone calls. Because of my hearing loss, I don't do well on the phone and find using it stressful. Consequently, I may seem lax in my communication with all our caring family and friends. Please believe me, it is not intentional. I love and need all of you. I'm going to try resurrecting my blog, which I had thought had run its course, as a means of keeping all of you updated.

The Trouble With Tribble

The trouble with Tribble is that he has only three legs. Kevin and Rachel adopted him after he had lost his right rear leg in an encounter with a car. It doesn't slow him down much. He is very adept at scrambling up onto high places by pulling himself up with his front feet. He's a bit clumsy and noisy, but very determined. He also has a voice that cannot be ignored. The "Awww" factor with this cat is very high so he gets lots of love and attention.Here he is resting on a quilt I finished while visiting Kevin and Rachel this week.

 I went up to Kansas City on Wednesday evening so I could go with Rachel to her chemo appointments on Thursday and Friday. Thursday's session was no problem. The chemo protocol for Friday is more difficult to tolerate and takes longer to administer. Rachel is such a good patient. She is taking very good care of herself and is doing everything she can to aggressively attack any unwelcome cells in her body. I'm sure she'll be victorious. The chemo had left her feeling a bit unwell Saturday morning when I left. She expects the effects to linger a few more days and then she will be feeling better by midweek.

Kevin is working in Mississippi for the next several months. He comes home Friday night and leaves on Monday morning. Every fifth week he spends at home. It is hard for him to be gone while Rachel is undergoing chemo, but they are coping pretty well.

I expect the holidays will be rather quiet around here. Ben will be in California for Thanksgiving and I think Danny is planning to be there also. Rachel and Kevin will probably not be with us as they will be avoiding travel and exposure to any unnecessary germs while Rachel's immune system is depleted from the chemo.

Overwhelmed and Losing it, Loosely Wrapped and Unraveling

I have been on the edge of hysteria for at least a week now. Well, that's not entirely true, at least three times I've gone over the edge and plunged into the depths. Life is really complicated right now and it requires lots of planning, coordination, and physical work. I need lots of help and as always, I have a tough time asking for it.
So far, I have blown up at Logan, Steve Maples, and my car. If any of the rest of you come into the line of fire in the next few weeks, please know I appreciate you being there for whatever reason and please know that if I blow up, it's probably about me, not you.

 What's eating me?

• I have to be ready for the movers on Saturday.
• Logan is also overwhelmed with balancing the demands of a job and the rigorous IB program at school. He spends every waking moment he is at home working on his school computer or with his nose in a book.
• Danny's hours limit his availability to help.
• Both boys are never available at the same time, so the two-man jobs aren't getting done.
• Rachel is constantly on my mind and in my heart. Chemo is not easy and she and Kevin have way too many stresses in their lives. 
• My physical strength is very limited. I can do only a small amount of work and then must rest.
• The Maples clan is all absorbed in grieving the loss of Julia's father and attending his funeral on the other side of the state.
• It's been bloody hot.
• I still have tons of sorting, selling, storing, and tossing to do.
• I miss Ben.

On the other hand:

• I'm so looking forward to living in a smaller, more manageable house.
• I can't wait to reduce my inventory of stuff (by sorting, selling, and tossing).
• The weather is pleasant. I don't think I've ever moved when the weather is decent -- it's always been during a terrible storm or a killer heatwave. 
• People are helping me.
• Most of the people I've offended will forgive me.
• This too, will pass.

In the meanwhile, I will practice as many avoidance techniques as I can muster:

• Blogging
• Re-reading a book from my childhood
• Playing solitaire mindlessly

I'm open to suggestions for any other distractions. 

Rachel's Endeavor

My cradle-snatching son, Kevin (now 49), wed Rachel Hall (now 37) on June 12, 2004, at Unity Church in Overland Park, Kansas. She left her family behind and moved into Kevin's house in Sacramento. Later, they sold that house and moved to Lenexa, Kansas where they live today with three cats and two dogs. It's a three and a half hour drive from my home in Ozark, close enough to get together for important occasions or when we just feel like it.

Here's Rachel at one of those important occasions that didn't occur at either of our homes. We all traveled to Cape Code in May of 2007 for the wedding of grandson Tom Paine and Nichole. A highlight of the trip was a mad shopping trip to Cubby's where we snatched up a couple dozen Cape Cod T-shirts. Rachel is modeling hers in the picture above.

This picture, my all-time favorite, was taken Christmas 2008. She has such beautiful skin and eyes, or in this case, eye. And she puts up with Kevin!

Here's a quilt I made for Rachel. It's king-sized (108" x 112"), made from reproduction Civil War era fabrics, machine-pieced and quilted by hand. 

 

Here's  a close-up of the quilting stitches (nine stitches to the inch). The quilting designs are all original, designed by me especially for this quilt.

And here's the label on the back of the quilt that tells a little bit about what it took to make the quilt. The million stitches and mile of thread refer only to the hand quilting and don't take into consideration all the stitches and thread involved in the machine piecing. All in all, it was quite an Endeavor.

But it is nothing compared to the endeavor Rachel is now undertaking. She was diagnosed with ovarian cancer around a month ago. She has had surgery and now is beginning chemotherapy.  The oncologist feels quite sure they got all of it with the surgery, but the chemo is to make certain it is all eradicated. The quilt is a symbol of the love and warmth I want to wrap her in during her endeavor.

Everything's fine, sort of

It's been hard to post lately because so much is going on, but nothing ever seems to get resolved. Here are some things I promise to write about later:

• Getting Ben off to school: I'm going to California this weekend to move Ben into the dormitory at UC Davis. He begins a four-week orientation program on Saturday and I attend a parent's session all day Saturday. It's going to be a whirlwind trip for me -- leaving home on Friday and returning on Monday. But, I have a feeling I'll be making more than one trip a year in the next few years.
• Health issues of family and friends (I'm fine): Daughter-in-law, Rachel is recovering from surgery. I'll know more after I visit with her next week. High school chum, Linda, has had a very rocky year and I'm wishing her a much improved finish to the year. Grandpa Steve has a nasty skin cancer on his hand that is going to require a lot more digging into. These folks are on my mind every hour of the day.
• Selling my house and moving: My house has sold and it looks like we'll be moving to a rental house within the month. I think I have located a place and if all goes smoothly, I'll announce a new (Ozark) address soon. But, in the meanwhile, I have lots of packing, sorting, selling, storing, and trashing to do. The new place is about one third the size of this house. 
• Quilting: Yes, I'm still quilting. I'll have a post dedicated to that subject before too long. 
• Back to school for Logan: Today is the first day of school for Logan and for the first time, I did not get a back to school photo. I think I'll cheat and get one sometime next week.
• Surprise party for Steve: Grandpa Steve will turn 65 on the 24th and the fam is throwing a surprise party for him. My job is decorations and I think I have it under control. But, with so much going on, it's hard to feel like anything is under control.

More later, gotta pack for tomorrow's trip.

New Love

Some things change and some things are immutable. The wheels are now larger, swivel effectively, and roll smoothly. Two of the shelves have morphed into baskets and they are made of wire. 

I

It's not my mother's kitchen utility cart, neither the one in my kitchen nor the blue one in the photo above. I borrowed the photo above because I don't have a photo of my mother's green version. I much prefer the newer version. My mother's sat immobile near the kitchen stove in my childhood home. The kitchen was large, dilapidated, and had very little usable space like counter, and cupboards. I think the cart was intended to compensate in some degree for those deficiencies, but as near as I can recall it was only used to hold dish towels (our version had a handle or rack on the top level).

My new cart serves me as a laundry cart when I move clothes from the hamper to the washer, the washer to the dryer, and the dryer back to my bedroom where I fold them. It saves my back and many steps. It also serves as an auxiliary walker. I leave my walker in the car and push the cart around the house. It's useful when I'm using the dining room for meals and need to carry food and dirty dishes to and fro. I love it!

And here are three of my new loves all in one! Watching and listening to Downton Abbey on my new Kindle Fire with my new headset has given me enormous pleasure. I wondered what all the buzz was about Downton Abbey and now I know: my dears, the costumes, the scenery, the characters, the setting, the story, and Maggie Smith! I'm also delighted with the Kindle cover which doubles as a stand. Buying all this seemed so indulgent and as I grow older, the acquisition of things often seems burdensome. This is different -- I am enthralled!

I still take time out from new addiction to practice the old -- I've completed two more table runners, only one more to go and I will have a complete set of twelve. And I keep on quilting on other projects.

Thanksgiving, pre and post

 

Logan, pre-Thanksgiving with early Christmas present.

Logan needed a new suit. Can you imagine a 15-year-old NEEDING a new suit?  His old suit is both worn out and too small. He wears his suit to all speech and debate events because he feels like he looks really cool and that the judges will be impressed. I'm not sure the judges were impressed, but Ashley was. 

And here's Ashley, looking SUITably impressed on the day after Thanksgiving. Ashley lives in a town about 25 miles away; she and Logan met at a Speech and Debate tournament a couple of months ago.  Yesterday, the Saturday after Thanksgiving, Logan and I drove to her town and joined her and her grandparents for a midday meal. Then Logan, Ashley, and I went to the movies to see Red Dawn -- they loved it, I thought it was OK. When we returned to her grandparents home, the kids hung out and I joined a pinocle game in progress. I sat in a few hands and played for the first time in probably more than 30 years. I do like the game and intend to teach the boys to play over the Christmas holidays.

While Logan and I pursued social sartorial activities, Ben remained sequestered in his room working on college and scholarship applications. He has been accepted at MSU in Springfield and awarded a governor's ("Bright Flight") scholarship for $5,000 per year. He is also eligible to apply for a President's scholarship for $12,500 per year.  And we're looking for others. Ben stresses so much over the application essays that it makes me crazy. I wish he could lighten up a bit, but he is such a perfectionist!

We celebrated Thanksgiving with all the fixings at Amanda and Ash's home, with Grandpa Steve, Grandma Julia, Krista, Jerry, Nick, and Adam. Alicia was also there with her 17 month old twins and a young man whose name escaped me. The twins seem to be doing well, both are walking and saying words, playing itsy bitsy spider and enjoying all kinds of food. Xavier continues to have trouble putting on weight, but Alicia is a good mother and watches closely. Christmas will be at Steve and Julia's. It is very hard for me to give up the reins, but it is time. I just don't feel up to doing it this year as I struggle with my feeble knee. Maybe I can do it again next year when I have a new knee and a new house.

Limping Along

My knee is still in very bad shape, even after a course of prednisone. I love that drug -- it makes every other joint feel really good, but I fear surgery is the only hope for the knee. I have an appointment for an evaluation with a surgeon on December 19, the earliest appointment I could get. In the meanwhile, I scoot around the house in my desk chair, limp along with a cane or walker, and bide my time.  So, it looks like I'm slowed down for the rest of the year.

As I slow down, the pace of life picks up. Frantic Friday is a case in point. The Ozark football team ended their run toward a state championship by losing the semi-final playoff. It was heartbreaking, but they had maybe the best season Ozark has ever had, at least the best in many years. The game was played in Independence, Missouri, but I didn't attend. Instead, I sat waiting up for the team bus to get home with its load of downhearted, tired, and smelly boys. They got in at 2:30 AM and Logan was in bed by 3. And up again at 5:30 so he could attend a speech and debate tournament. I guess he does well running on empty, because he finalled for the first time in Extemporaneous Speech. I think he's going to really grow into this event. He got home from the speech tournament around 8 PM after a long exhausting day.

Ben got out of bed early Saturday morning, around 1:30 AM, before Logan had arrived home from the football game. He had gone to bed around 7 on Friday evening to rest up before all the excitement of the Leonid meteor showers. I had sprung for an early Christmas present of a pair of binoculars. Equipped with them, a sleeping bag, and flashlight, Ben departed for his overnight backyard adventure. He returned to the warmth of his home (after being locked outside, oops) as Logan got ready to leave early Saturday morning for the speech tournament.  Ben finished up his Saturday events by marching in the Ozark Annual Christmas Parade just as Logan returned from the speech tournament. Busy night, busy day, dizzy grandma.

Sunday was a very welcome day of rest, except for the sewing storm I found myself in the middle of (nothing new about that!). The announcement of an expected baby set my fabric frenzy in motion, and I couldn't stop until I had finished a quilt top for a baby that isn't even expected until May.

And I keep making table runners.

What To Do?

 My back porch thermometer read 104 degrees when I left home to go grocery shopping. I took a small detour through the neighborhood, looking for houses new on the market so I can both evaluate my asking price and keep tabs on smaller houses I might consider as our next home. Driving down a nearby street, I saw an old woman sitting at the curb in the heat of the sun. It just didn't look right to me, so I stopped and asked if she needed help. And she said yes. She may have been hard of hearing, confused either by the sun or dementia, or maybe not fluent in English, but she seemed unable to put together a sentence to explain what was wrong. She appeared to be about 80 (I took her to be several years older than me) and reasonably healthy. She was carrying a sweater, a carefully folded blanket, some mail, and a wallet. When I asked her if she could stand up, she said, no. Did she want help standing? Yes. I got her to her feet, but she didn't seem to want to walk. She pointed to the nearest house when I asked where she lived, but said no when I asked if anyone was at home. I didn't have my cell phone with me, so I couldn't call for help.

Another car pulled up with a woman and a child in a car seat. We decided she would go knock on the door of the nearby house. A man answered and said yes, it was his mother. We got her into the car and drove her a couple of hundred feet to the house and her son took her in. I hope she's OK. I hope her son realized she might be dehydrated and got her to drink plenty of water. I hope they get an ID bracelet for her.

So many thoughts:

• If I had my cell phone, I might have called 911. Then they would have incurred a bunch of medical expense and fuss and bother.
• Maybe I should have called 911, maybe she did need medical attention.
• Why was she carrying a blanket, her wallet, the mail?
• Was she going to be safe at home?
• Did I do the right thing? Should I have done more? Should I respect her privacy? Should I follow up?
• I must never go out without my phone again!
• It could have been me -- in fact, it was me, in a way, when I fell in April. 
• I should have an ID bracelet.

The Care and Feeding of a Vegetarian

Ever since Ben planned and cooked a week of vegetarian meals, I've stopped serving him meat. And he's gained ten pounds. He had been spending so much effort and energy in the avoidance of meat, that he wasn't getting enough to eat. I finally get it -- he doesn't want to eat the stuff for all kinds of reasons. He can't shake the fact that they are critters and that killing is involved; and he is also into the meat is an inefficient source of food for an overcrowded planet concept. And then there is the taste and texture which he finds repugnant. Okay, okay, this isn't a phase, this is from the very core of his being. And it really isn't that hard to cook for him as long as he still eats eggs and dairy.

So, today I cooked up a batch of veggie burgers which I will freeze and have at the ready when I'm at a loss for a meat equivalent for him. The rice and beans combine to make whole protein. Today I made a dozen of these little beauties and here's how:

2 C. brown rice (cooked)
2 cans mashed up beans (I used 1 can of black beans and 1 can of pinto beans)
2 eggs
1 C. bread crumbs (I used Panko 'cause I had some in the cupboard)
2 C. mashed, shredded, finely chopped, or grated vegetables (I used a combination of cooked beets, raw carrots, raw spinach, cilantro, and raw onion*)
salt and pepper to taste

*the onions and beets were from the Millsap's  (our CSA farmers of yore) stand at the new Springfield Farmer's Market

Moosh it all together and form into patties (it helps to moosh the beans first and then add the eggs). Fry until brown on one side and then gently turn and fry on the other side. Freeze them on a plate (like in the picture) when they are frozen solid I transfer them to individual bags and nuke to serve.
Carnivores, eat your hearts out!

Can Your Dentist Do This?

My dentist has recently moved into a fancy new office, bought a bunch of fancy new equipment, and trained his assistants/technicians in a some amazing new skills and technologies.
I had to have a crown replaced; the underlying tooth had decayed, so the old crown had to come off, the decay treated, and a new crown installed. In the very recent past, this meant  anguishing time spent with a mouth full of goo while impressions were made, a "garbage can" temporary crown, and once the lab had fabricated the new crown and returned it to the dentist a second visit was required to cement in the new jewel.
This week, the dentist removed the old crown, fixed the tooth, and called in the assistants. They placed a device in my mouth which isolated the tooth and yet allowed me to breathe, swallow, clear my throat, and do everything but talk. Then they used a special little camera and began making digital images of the tooth and the space the crown would occupy. Working on the computer in a 3D graphics mode, they designed the new crown. When the dentist was satisfied, they pushed a button and the crown was manufactured while I sat in the chair. It was cemented in place and I went home a happy person. What truly amazes me is that someday this technology will seem primitive.
I don't have a picture of the tooth, so I'll show you my latest table topper.