Weather in the Tries: Holy Kamala! Monday is the only triple digit day forecast for the week. Gonna be all the way down in the 90s. Oh, can you see me do my one-legged happy dance? Now, where is my parka……
And why, you are asking, is it a one-legged happy dance? Because on Tues last, I had the double hammer toe of my right foot fixed. I can put weight on my heel, and only my heel, and I cannot pass Go or collect any moneys. Shuckins, I can barely make it from my bedroom to my desk, to the kitchen. My walker helps, but if I’m taking dishes with food in them, I have to use my cute little pink steno chair so I have something to set them on. A steno chair makes a fair walker, but probably not as safe as the real McCoy.
I was told if I wear a bra, make it a sport bra, but nothing with an underwire. I had to ask the nurse why? Was I going to have a scar from my toe to my boob? Anyhow, Dr. uses a cauterizer, and though they have a grounding pad under me, they just want to be sure nothing untoward happens. Believe me, that was a relief. But that woulda been some kind of scar!
I spent the first 4 days either on my bed with my foot elevated, or at my desk with my foot elevated. No swelling. And really good drugs that did nada, so after two of the pills, I moved over to over the counter NSAID instead of the oxycodone. Those NSAIDS worked a whole lot better. And 6 was all I required! Last one was Thurs morning.
Housemate Dan has been in charge of the hound during this fun time. Since I can’t put any weight on the toe part of my foot, it’s a tad difficult to pick dog dishes up from and put them down again on the floor, and no way can I go outside and walk him, let alone bend over to pick his offering to the Grass Gods then throw it into the Alter/dumpster. Sammy is very happy that the Grass Gods always accept his offering. Me, too./snort/ 😉
Photo of the week: Wounded foot. Isn’t that exciting? I have YES on my right leg, as well as the dr’s initials, and NO on my left leg. Indelible ink. The ink is still on me. I can’t get my foot wet, and even with a plastic taped to my leg, I can’t stand in the shower to scrub, I have to sit. And scrubbing the ink off is not a high priority. Yet.
from nurse chihuahua; sorry, folks, can’t sit in my chair when my human is in it. and if she’s not in it, I have to be next to her and act as guard dog. it would be easier to take care of my human, if I had longer legs and opposable thumbs.
Weather in the Tries: The highest day will be this coming weekend, in the mid 70s, the lowest is scheduled for tomorrow at 60. Most will be in the upper 60s. The nights will be down to a comfortable low 40s, with a couple in the high 30s. There will be no more three dog nights for a few months.
I regret to inform you…
It is with sadness I tell you, your dearly departed uncle has left you the entirety of his estate valued at xxxxxx amount of Dollars, Pounds Sterling, Won, Yen, Whatever. It has taken us some time to find you, as he left only your name and possible location as you’ve recently moved, and there are several people with your name, and we had to ascertain you are the correct recipient of his vast fortune in currency, jewels, and land. yadda, yadda, and more yadda.
Several years ago, my favorite Brother of Choice Dave, told me how to set my computer so the entire sender email is shown (se below). That has saved me no end of hassle and the possibility of embarrassing loss of funds 😉 And, yes, I have sent it on to Phishing@visa.com
This guy is so bad at this, I almost want to edit his letter and send it back. This is his whole letter:
Attention, I send you this message previously without hearing from you, Today we received an appropriate letter from the treasury department of the Executive Board of Directors to continue with the transfer of his Fund deposited in our bank. We have established all transfer documents behind your full amount.
1) Through a VISA CARD based on a personalized PIN with a maximum withdrawal limit of ($10,000.00 USD) per day till receive your full amount.
Photos of the Week: First up, a photo of my new bookcase. On the left, nonfiction—top shelf is Native American, in the middle are poetry books in the angled shelves, the top middle is my Morgue, in the right is my fiction. Someday I may have to swap location of fiction for poetry 😉 I buy very little hard copy fiction, but all my poetry is hard copy.
Remember my talking about the quilt for my Sister and Brother of Choice’s pet python? Well, as you and I both know, they don’t have a pet python—they have a furry, and claw-bearing cat who likes to sit on the top of their bed’s headboard to look out the window. Here is a shot of the “python quilt” in its new home. And it has been approved!
And here are their new place mats, with the center piece. I drew a circle around the center of the center sunflower in the center piece and used a pale yellow to radiate out from the circle and continue down into the mats. The radiating rays are a stretched out ‘S.’ I was going to use a nice bright yellow, but the backs, or other side, is a soft sage green, and the brighter yellows did not play well with the softer green. Photos of quilts by my SOC, Lee W.
from the desk of the brave dog; the sun is coming out more and more every day. my human likes it almost as much as me. the days are warmer, and so are the nights. my human still has a heavy quilt on my bed, woof—our bed. but it won’t be long before she will put a summer quilt on it. and then just a sheet. oh, hot weather comes. bark, bark, bark… my human won’t want 2 more dogs to share my, woof, our bed.
Earworm of the week: woke this morning (Sunday) with Ghost Riders in the Sky by Sons of the Pioneers. Talk about an earworm. And Roy Rogers was still with them at the time. I remember that song from when I was a step above being a toddler. My folks played it over and over. Was I dreaming of them? I don’t know, but my first conscious thought was “Yippee kai yay, yippee kai yo ghost riders in the sky.”
And a quote or two on this national day of poverty, courtesy of romper :
“Isn’t it appropriate that the month of the tax begins with April Fool’s Day and ends with cries of May Day?” — Robert Knauerhase “Death, taxes, and childbirth! There’s never any convenient time for any of them.” ― Margaret Mitchell “The income tax has made liars out of more Americans than golf.” ― Will Rogers
Weather in the Tries. Gonna be more hot than not. But the nights will cool some. Mostly in the mid-high 80s with a couple forays into the 90s. The nights will be, mostly, mid 50s with a couple forays into the 60s. I think it’s summer, yes?
Funny thing, this thing called grief. It’s been almost two weeks since Thomas died. I’ve lost people I’ve loved before him—parents, friends. I’m a reader, ya know? Except for reading War Dances, by Sherman Alexie, to Thomas I haven’t read a book in weeks, probably months. I can’t concentrate long enough to hold the plot in my wee tiny brain. I watch the news. I don’t have to pay attention, it’s just there.
I’ll try to get a review written and posted about War Dances, but in the meantime, get thee to a bookstore and get a copy. It’s a collection of very well written stories (fiction) and poetry. Highly recommend the book.
Housemate Dan woke me the other morning at the ungodly hour of 6am to inform me he’d called 9-1-1 to take him to the hospital. I brought him home after about 3 days. I don’t hurt, but I don’t not hurt. Does that make sense?
For years, I ended every night with a text to Thomas. Every morning was an email and as he lost the ability to easily read them, texts, and then texts to both Thomas and Sheryl so she could read them to him. Of course, when I was there, I didn’t do either. But I’m home now, and it feels very, very odd not to be able to text/email him. It’s hard trying to sleep when my routine is upset. I would read a bit, then send him a text. Now I’m not reading, nor sending him a text.
I think I’m mostly through with the crying, but I find myself sitting and staring at nothing. It turns out the meds I’m on for my neuropathy is also known as Elavil—an anti-depressant. Which explains why I put on wait since starting them. Today, I’ll start looking for a support group for hospice caregivers.
I learned a long time ago that when something happens and you grieve, GRIEVE. If you put it off, for whatever reason, Grief will wait in the back room of your brain/heart for a while. And when you think you got away without grieving, it strikes, at the most inopportune time. So I’m grieving. But it’s different than any I’ve gone through before. I’m not crying so much, but I’m sitting and staring. At something. Sammy must remind me to feed him and to take him for a walk. But he’s great at snuggling and letting me know I may be a bit absent minded, but I’m still his Person of Choice 😉
I did find one thing to read, that was pretty interesting. The full 49-page Indictment of the OP. I won’t ‘fess up to the amount of time it took to read it, how often I started over, etc. IF you haven’t read it, I strongly urge you to read it. It’s written in English instead of Legalese, and is pretty interesting, no matter which side of the aisle you prefer.
As grieving as I am, I’m still laughing. It’s weird, really. So feel free to send me jokes and funny things.
I took this shot of Thomas last August.
And this is wy I don’t dust. It could be Thomas. Or Tashiko. Or Mom or Daddy. Or…
Having yourself a great week, and I’ll see you next Monday, same Bat Time, same Bat Channel.
This was scheduled to go out a tad after midnight, and this morning my computer tells me the schedule was missed. Probably a good thing. I had a typo in the paragraph above that I missed in the proof cycle. I wished everyone a “…great wee,..” and though I wish you all that, too, I really am wishing you a great week. sigh.
Well, sort of. Auntie Lenora chooses to take it as such.
Yes, I received an email from Earl of Coffee a couple days ago, wondering if I’d like to exchange articles for our posts. Now, Earl of Coffee reviews coffee and coffee makers. I, of course, am all over the map in topics of discussion. I review movies, tv shows, and books. And, of course, whatever is going on in my life at the moment.
Now, I loves my coffee, but I’m not what could be called a ‘coffee connoisseur’ by a long shot. If it’s dark, and loaded with caffeine, mildly bitter, it’s good. True, there are some coffees I like better than others, but taste is so subjective—as one wag so aptly wrote—one Auntie’s cuppa joe is another Uncle’s cuppa poison.
One of the best coffees I’ve ever had was in a Middle Eastern restaurant. It was made with green coffee beans (unroasted) and I think, cardamom. I’ve never been able to find it anywhere else, and the restaurant, if it’s still open, is a four-hour drive away. A bit far for a cuppa. See, I told you, I’m not a coffee snob.
I can’t help but wonder, did the Earl of Coffee really read my blog? Does he realize that I lean slightly left of center? Sometimes far left of center, though I do try to curb it, unless I just can’t help myself. (see last week’s post)
In perusing the Earl’s site, I came upon an article touting the 5 Best Pots for Cowboy Coffee, and immediately on reading the title, memories flooded in. Yes, Daddy was a cowboy at one time in his life, many years before I was even a gleam in his imagination, and Boy Howdy, did he have an imagination. By the time we finally met, he had moved from jeans and boots into shoes and white-collar shirts.
While I was in school his secretary and I became friends, she was a delightful little lady (under five feet tall—way under as I recall) and we decided to spend a weekend together for shopping and girl time. I smelled coffee, woke, got up, and wandered into the kitchen. There she stood, facing the stove, holding a pot in her hands and muttering, “one, two, three.” With each count she raised the pot as high as she could reach, and gently lowered it to the stove. On ‘three’ she put it down, picked up a ladle and ‘poured’ herself a cup of coffee.
Never known for my political correctness, I somehow managed it as I asked what she was doing? She replied she was making cowboy coffee as taught by my dad. That she had put in the shells of two eggs, brought it to a boil, and raised and lowered the pot three times to settle the grounds. How I kept a straight face, I’ll never know, but I did. She went on to say that she’d been making coffee like this since Daddy told her how and it was the best coffee she’d ever made, and everyone loved it. True, it was a mighty fine cuppa.
When I told Daddy, he laughed, and he told me I was never, ever, to tell her he was pulling her leg, that when he was a cowboy, they used a coffee pot, grounds, and water. No eggshells, no raising the pot to settle the grounds. I never told. Why is it I don’t think the Earl will be too interested in my snark or my left leaning rants? However, I shall give him the opportunity to make his own decision.
A real-life Pushme-Pullme? “Coffee!” “Swim!” “Tea!” “Lunch!” Arrrgggghh, I retired to get out of making those decisions. I hope they figured it out.
Don’t you be a Pushme-Pullme. If you are in the market for new coffee equipment—makers, grinders, etc., please be sure to check the Earl of Coffee’s website, especially the Q&A section. You might find questions (and answers) you didn’t know you should be asking. Go the Earl’s website and get the facts you need. Then decide.
Entertainment:
Alas, I haven’t been watching the fun stuff this past week, well, I have been watching the news. At times that qualifies as fun stuff. After being off cable news for a year, I thought I could watch it now, with some restraint. I was wrong. Kind of like drinking from a fire hose because I am sooooo thirsty. However, if you’re still into reading news online, I just received this link to Alexandra Petri’s column in WaPo. I imagine it’s paywalled, but if you have a subscription, it’s worth the read, for the snark alone! “I’ve had enough news now, thank you”
Books:
See Rainy Day Reads for reviews and mayhaps a bit of snark. Who? Me? Snark? Bwahahahaha!
The God of Irony lives!
Our President has Covid-19. As most of you know, I don’t particularly care for him and his sycophants, still I do wish him, and them, a complete recovery. I can’t help but wonder, since himself is now in a MILITARY HOSPITAL if it’s dawned on him yet that those marvelous people who are taking such good care of him (Do No Harm!) are the “suckers” and “losers” he so disdains. Wonder if any have changed their name tags to read “Sucker” or “Loser”?
Wearing a mask is a proven method to help slow down the spread of Covid19. Please, wear your mask. And wear it properly—keep it over your nose! And Socially Distance! Your Auntie and your Granny appreciate your thoughtfulness. However, I promise when you stop by for a fresh cuppa and homemade biscotti, we’ll be properly socially distanced so you may remove your mask at that time. Honest. Trust me.
THOU SHALT NOT COVID THY NEIGHBOR’S LIFE–WEAR THY MASK! (Swiped from the www.)
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Indeed, this virus lockdown has had some strange consequences. While I am all for wearing masks, and social distancing (well, unless that cute guy in apartment…oh, never mind), I can understand the closing of many businesses; however, there are two that leave me a tad flummoxed.
Hair stylists/barbers. As a whole, the only other people who are as aware of, and practice assiduously cleanliness and sterile procedures, are medical personnel. At least in my state (Washington), salons have extremely high standards of both and are regularly inspected by the authorities. Screw up and lose your license. And if the stylist wears a mask and doesn’t work if s/he has symptoms, and if clients don’t come in if they have symptoms, it should be fairly safe.
Pet Groomers. Number one, social distancing can be practiced in the salon between groomers, and when pets are brought in and picked up, social distancing can also be practiced between pet parents and groomers. It is very difficult for many people to shampoo their pets, let alone trim nails, etc. People with ‘fur children’ worry about them, especially when nails grow out and become too long. And long nails are painful for the pets.
Yes, I have a shaggy dog. With bear claws for toenails. He has a special rapport with his groomer he does not have with me. He trusts her to bathe him. He doesn’t trust me for that. He doesn’t like to be put in the sink. He doesn’t like to be wet. He hates the rain whether it comes from Grandfather Sky or the sprinklers where we live. Water, in his opinion, belongs in his bowl and no where else. Especially not on him!
This is not a shaggy dog. It’s a pelican and a common merganser duck going through a Bad Feather Day. The wind is blowing, and their feathers are ruffled. The temperature, even without wind chill, was below freezing that day.
And if all that isn’t enough to make an old fartess cry, there was a spate of dead crows on I-90 the other day. This old fartess likes crows. A lot. The folks at the Washington State Department of Transportation (WSDOT) became concerned as there were over 450 dead crows in a short space of freeway outside of Ellensburg. Were they poisoned? Had they contracted Covid 19? They collected 450 crow carcasses and took them to the Washington State University Veterinary School for testing. It was determined that 98% of the crows had died by colliding with trucks. Did they not have their usual look-out crow? Some students and a professor went to the area where the crows were collected and after watching more collisions realized that the crows had, indeed posted their look-out crows to call out impending danger. Unfortunately, when the trucks came barreling down the freeway, the lookout crows called out, “Cah, cah.” Not one called out “Truck, truck.”
Hey, if I gotta live with a shaggy dog, so, dammit, do you! Actually, I’m in dire need of a few good shaggy dog stories, please, please, if you have any to spare, send them to me, send them to me, send them to me now. Use the Contact form.
Have a great week. Remember to laugh often and loud, sing a little, dance like you’re four years old and wearing a Batman cape, and be sure to stop by again—same bat time, same bat channel. The coffee’s hot, the biscotti are homemade, and we always have time for a short break. Stay safe, stay healthy, and care for and love one another—because one another is all we’ve really got.
Auntie Lenora
postscripts:
Apologies to Judy Carne for mutilating her line.
Feel free to let me know in the comment section if this was a one-groaner up to a five-groaner shaggy dog story.
