Scramble and Stop...Now Go...Not!

My technological skills are gone, not old and out of date, not rusty, not tired, just GONE! For nine months I have intermittently attempted to pair my camera to my phone. The divine little gadget that made my photo uploads such a joyful experience while traveling last summer took a devious dump in the fall. Every attempt to load those photos met with resistance. I'm sure you know the script. Update software, remove software and reload, check for adequate battery power, turn devices off, now turn them on. Nine months of frustration and I asked for help. DIL met me at the office yesterday and finally figured out the problem.  "Firmware" must be updated. Sounds simple enough, but cannot be done through my phone.  I need to connect to PC with my cables.  Oh those? Hmm, where are they? Found them this morning circa 6AM. Didn't need them after all. Update can be completed via the SD card in the camera. .

Were I to possess one iota of techno skill, all would be well.  I do not, and it is NOT. Reading instructions carefully, setting up a file to save uploaded update, finding said file and attempting to move the update exe file to it, trying to run the update from whatever file it now resides, trying to move it to SD card for loading in the camera,  try again. My PC now owns four maybe five copies of the update, my poor little camera still has not seen it!

In the midst of a pandemic, our world has ceased as once we knew it.  Taking the camera in to a camera store for assistance is not an option.  We have few options, or I should say very different options these days. I should probably be grateful that this is my only trauma. I am healthy and know very few people who have suffered with this vile disease.  After years of enjoying life with a masked man, I now proudly wear one as the perfect fashion accessory. I miss regular interaction with groups of friends, eating in restaurants, and live church services in person. I shall survive, my camera may not!

Button Button! Who has the button?

Mammy and her mama before her always kept a large jar, usually with a wide mouth, filled with buttons.  We used to play a little game when a crowd was cooped up indoors.  A button would be selected from the large jar and held between two palms.  Everyone would stand or sit in a circle and the holder of the button would slide the pressed together hands through each of the others.  At some time in the process the button would be dropped into another pair of hands.  At the completion of the circle, the leader would then ask "Button, button...who has the button"!  The person able to identify the recipient would then become the leader. This was a good way to occupy a lazy afternoon and develop our skills of observation with the ability to maintain a secret for a short time. The little ditty passed around my mind this morning.

I noticed a small brown box with a slightly askew lid.  It was so full, the top was elevated.  This is my version of extra buttons.  When I purchase clothing, a tiny little bag with extra buttons is often attached.  Of course I must keep these extra buttons where they can be located should catastrophe occur and a gap is left where a button is necessary.  I can easily count on the fingers of one hand, the times I have retrieved a button from this box to replace one that has gone missing.  Still I keep them...just in case!  This collection was due for some sorting and clearing. In fact, some of these buttons await their chance to come to the rescue on clothing that now lives in another state or has moved on to an unknown destination.  How inconsiderate of me not to retrieve the little bag with extra buttons and attach with a tiny safety pin to clothing being passed on!  I carefully opened the bags of now orphaned buttons  and dropped them in a small jar. Now I can stash the tiny bags in my sewing notions.  I often need to attach buttons or tiny trims to a project in progress. These little bags are a range of handy sizes for holding little sparkly things.

Now my little box lid closes nicely and I feel a lovely sense of accomplishment.  I placed the lid on my new jar of buttons and remember that I have one of those wide-mouth jars passed along from my mother back in a cabinet.  

Now the little jar is resting along side one of those jars of buttons (many still on their cards) that have never found that perfect destination.  I wonder if a bunch of old ladies would enjoy a game of  "Button Button"?  Mammy would be proud, order has once again been restored to my buttons without homes!  My little sparklies have empty bags awaiting when they are matched with potential projects. My morning was not wasted!

Traveling North

As I continue to whine about my limited mobility, life goes on.  A couple of weeks ago, I enjoyed a marathon sewing festival with five dear friends. My ever so smart sewing machine "Dinah" rebelled a few hours into my sewing adventure and jammed, breaking needles, skipping stitches and generally slowing my much needed progress!  Despite her tantrums, I did manage to complete a couple of projects.  Nevertheless the hours of fun, eating, and general chatting with friends was so refreshing. As we wound down our sewfest, my angry ankle made itself known. Ol' Abner was NOT happy and lashed out at Dancin' Girl that I just must not do this anymore.Little does he know how much I need my interaction with these friends. Oh well, this too shall pass.

A visit to the doctor on Monday morning after his declaration and the diagnosis was cellulitis in my lame foot.  Fractures are well healed but the toes are black, blue, and yellow with spots of green on my ankle and leg. The overworked doc, after agreeing to work me into her busy Monday, declared that I might be a good candidate for the ugly or perhaps most colorful foot pageant!  I'm not sure there is one, but she assured me I would be the hands down winner.  A round of heavy antibiotics and it appears I am well on the mend.  It's been a slow process and I'm back to the walk around a day and prop up the foot for the next day. 

We drove to Lubbock for an annual celebration and a little family time. On the way, I had the chance to stop in at a couple of quilt shops for more of our coveted Rows.  In Snyder TX, two shops are located on the town square.  All my sewing friends had viewed and loved these examples.  I had called ahead to be sure they had ample supplies and one greeted me as I limped in as "Hello, you must be Austin". Clearly she remembered my call and we had a delightful conversation.

I found two rows here

The previous visit to a shop just across the square had been just as pleasant.  The owner was anticipating much "row traffic" and was well prepared  for the coming weekend.  Her rows were unique and gorgeous, so of course, I bought both for myself and my friends.  As we left Snyder I posted a quick photo of some of my loot on social media and the private message thread activated immediately.  

This denim rag quilt was so inspiring,
I must share! It was displayed in Nana Bears!

The rows from these two shops will be a part of at least six more of the row quilts. My friends spoke up on line and by telephone as Ol' Abner drove the remainder of the ride into Lubbock.  Sister was thrilled at the rows I had brought to her and coveted some others.  I guess I will need to revisit some of the 
those earlier shops!

As we made our way into the city where we first met, Ol' Abner shared memories with me from his childhood and teen years. Some I had heard before, a few were new revelations.  We laughed as we anticipated seeing some of the subjects of those stories and mourned the loss of some of those dear friends.  I was reminded of our aging status as my foot rebelled and sent me to bed early that night.

Mobility...NOT!

I've suffered my way through crippling injuries before.  In fact I considered myself quite adept at maneuvering around on crutches.  That was probably thirty years in the past sans fifty pounds or so.  As I made my way around the house on crutches whining, a friend arrived with an amazing little scooter.  It rolls nicely and has a gentle hand brake.  

I named her Zelda Green

A handy little basket adorns the handle-bar that can be adjusted to accommodate my overly generous height. I made a trail around the living room when she first arrived only to feel the pressure in my fractured fibula.  I seemed wise to ask for my physician's advice.  He recommended that I give it a couple of weeks or until the pressure through my cast wasn't painful. It's three days shy of three weeks and it still hurts to rest my leg on Zelda Green's little seat.  I still find crutches awkward, and the dog avoids my path.  I am counting the days until my bulky green fiber glass cast can be split and removed. Meanwhile I have lost my entire month of 
June.  Maybe I won't sleep much in July! 

It's Getting Tedious!

Our days are full and it seems lately that every single weekend involves a major event or several little gatherings.  We should both be participating in regular exercise, yet the trip to the curb with the trash and recycle receptacles seem to be the extent of our fitness activity. Aging creates it's own new set of responsibilities.  I recently completed my annual check-up series with all the usual driving around to specialty facilities for preventive evaluation. Who has time for illness? It seems a full time endeavor just staying on top of the little things that might go wrong with teeth, eyes, hearing and of course "let's take a look at that skin tag". Ol' Abner still has ongoing levels of multi-level body check-ups, but he's better at this invasion than I. He's several years ahead of me in body degeneration skills.  A transplanted organ further heightens his medical staff's vigilance.

Now I realize this tedious discussion of medical visits doesn't sound like a busy social calendar.  It just complicates the scheduling of things more fun. We spent two days of eating to celebrate our wedding anniversary (so many choices, we found it necessary to indulge several times) Daughter had a birthday this month and Ol' Abner will celebrate a milestone year next month.  The day prior to his birthday will be my Pappy's 95th, and sister has declared it should be celebrated in his new assisted living accommodations. Our February began with a trip to Houston, with the news that a return will be necessary soon.  Trying to find a weekend suitable for celebrating Ol' Abner's birthday, given that Pappy is several hundred miles away, has involved a struggle. The Friday and Saturday before are already committed for me elsewhere off in South Texas. Daughter and her family cannot come on the Sunday before. Four other couples from Transplant City are attempting to coordinate a dinner get-together. Three of them live near the Capital City of Texas, while the fourth will be traveling to or from Houston from the capital of that state across the Red River. I have been charged with locating a restaurant in a central Austin location where ten people can be seated and allowed to visit for an extended evening. It's not so difficult, I have made the arrangements twice only to change locations and times, and now we have been forced to postpone again. We will meet with three couples from the past this weekend to plan a cruise later in the year. These are people we enjoy and the weekend is happily anticipated, but we have work to do.  That groundhog may have determined that we will have six more weeks of winter, but I can foresee at least six more weeks of constant movement here. Of course, we'll need to make a trip to Houston when they call, there's always that!

New

It will be a brand new year when we awake tomorrow.  I think I'm ready for some new. We've had many new experiences this year, but I can't really brag that it's been much fun.  Ol' Abner has a gently used "new" lung.  While it's wonderful to know that his life has been extended through the blessing of transplant, someone's loved one saw the end of life to allow his gift. That sobering knowledge makes us ever more respectful and willing to jump through the hoops necessary to keep that lung healthy and thriving. 

Enough said about that weighty responsibility.  This year we finished the new playhouse, we lived in Houston (not a new experience) and found some new eating places there.  Ol' Abner finally talked me into a new car, and he bought a couple of not so new ones.  We met some wonderful people this year and those new friends are feeling like old friends already. 

Having always subscribed to the practice that insurance purchased and never needed was a better option than needing it once and not having it, we found ourselves needing to choose new health insurance plans. Maneuvering through the website, holding for hours on end to talk to a real person, then dealing with the issue of the name (names) my dear mother placed on my birth certificate but seldom used! Today I think I can say, all needed coverage has been added to our portfolio. Of course, today is the absolute deadline.  For once I really wanted to finish the process early, but "early time" was truly wasted in frustration. Perhaps I'll let Ol' Abner sort through the coverage for all our dependents with wheels attached.

Finally Retired

I am younger than Ol' Abner. He retired from his working life earlier than many. When his company offered to pretend he was five years older than reality and then credited him with an additional five years of service, he gleefully walked away. By then I had tired of changing jobs and starting over as he was transferred time after time. With the most recent transfer, I told him I was tired of being a "trailing spouse" and thought co-worker a more favorable status. He laughed at me, I took the test,  I passed the test, the company offered me a job in another office.  I declined, he suggested I should take what was offered.  A couple of weeks later, a call came from the office where he worked with a job offer.  I accepted, he warned me that I must find my own lunch buddies, and we became co-workers.  It was a good fit for the most part.  He continued to lunch with a group of smokers, I made friends with some I met in training and a few others. Just over a year into my new employment, he wasn't transferred, he retired.  

I saw no reason to resign and stay home with him.  In fact I rather liked the idea of a "house husband". His initial plan had included an additional career, but it never happened.  He completed a few handyman projects, convinced me to quit my job and we planned to travel. First, he wanted to find a cabin on a lake somewhere and we began the search.  When the twin towers fell, everything changed.  Our retirement nest egg shrank and looked as though we might be headed for destitution.  I went back to work to boost our personal economy, and eventually was transferred to my hometown in the Texas Panhandle.  I bought a tiny house with a double garage (it gets really ugly in the winter there), and he proceeded to list our home for sale.  Meanwhile we had discovered the beauty of the deep lakes in the Ozarks. I worked and he assumed the role of puppy nurturer.  Our Belle selected him when she was only five days old. That love affair continues, today.  They traveled to the Ozarks without me several times and eventually found a thirty year old house, with thirty year old drapes, and we finally had our home on the lake.  I worked a little longer while he replaced appliances, flooring and counter tops.The drapes were the same fabric we had used to drape our windows in our new house in 1978.  I liked them then, and he thought I would again. The market had recovered and I bid farewell to my job. I had window coverings to buy.

A year or so later, I received a call with a suggestion that I might want to return to work in the office just across the river from our home in the Ozarks.  Ol' Abner had just been diagnosed with a new malady, and I gracefully declined.  When I ended the call, he reminded me that if he died, I would have not insurance.  As you know, I am younger than he. At his urging, I called back to see if I could change my mind.  I could and I did.  A week later, I was in yet another office, same company, some new faces, and back to the workforce. Mind you, my husband did not intend to die, but he always likes to point out the "worst case scenario", and he proceeded with his recovery.  The job, this time led me around Western Missouri, Eastern Oklahoma and Kansas.  I made some dear friends and loved the work. Ol' Abner rather enjoyed getting to know the old men around our little town.  After a couple of years, my weekday absence became inconvenient again.  I was needed to help settle Pappy as his age related dementia was evident. I took a leave of absence, then returned long enough to resign...again.  As I became a full time resident of our little Ozark community, I was repeatedly asked how I like retirement.  I still cannot understand how they confused my status.  Over and over, I had to explain that I just QUIT.  I was home and the paycheck had been discontinued.  How is THAT considered retirement? Having left the company for the third time, I accepted that my contributions to a 401K were the only retirement funds I would ever see.

I reached the official retirement age a few months ago.  I set up my social security income and received my Medicare card.  I spent endless hours on the telephone with an insurance exchange setting up my supplement and drug plans.  Yep, I am officially "old". What a surprise! I was notified that with the milestone age, I was eligible for retirement income from the company where I had enjoyed three short tenures. Even though I followed that old man right out of the job a few times, I can still enjoy a little retirement income. 

Invisible?

This year I will be officially old.  The government says so and if the government says it, it must be so!  I guess we could debate that theory on any given day, but it may be time for me to enjoy the perks of being "officially" old. Earlier in the month I went online and set up my Social Security user id and attempted to apply for my monthly retirement payments to begin the same month as inception of my Medicare benefit.   Instructions were fairly straight forward and questions requiring answers seemed a little invasive.  How does the government know how long I've had that particular credit card or who holds my mortgage??? Answers to those questions had to be correct in order to prove I am who I am.  I worked my way through the nosiness of the site assuming it was for my own good, filled in all the choices in an effort to have my benefits in place on my 65th birthday.  It took just under an hour to muddle through the maize and at the end, it suggested I review the information for accuracy and select "submit" if it was correct and ready to go.  I did, but it did not...GO that is!  The little icon just began to spin when I hit "submit" and continued to spin for several minutes until my screen saver timed it out.  I awakened it to see no sign that the process had completed. For several days I tried unsuccessfully to re-visit my application.  Finally, today I went to the local Social Security office.  

I arrived around ten a.m. and there was a short line at the front door.  Within half an hour I had been given a number and called to one of the cubicles to explain what I needed.  A few keystrokes and the clerk told me to have a seat and I would be called by name shortly.  I asked if my application showed in the system, she said she wouldn't be able to see it if it was there.  OK, I should feel pleased that my information is not available to just anyone. I sat down and waited.  Others were called back and more sat solemnly in chairs around me. After about three hours or so, all chairs had changed occupants except mine.  Time was racing and I did need to be elsewhere by four.  Just after three, I started over to ask the uniformed crowd control officer if i could schedule a firm appointment another day.  Before I reached him a man in a business suit asked if he could help me.  I explained my dilemma and he asked my name and asked me to wait just one moment.  He went through the big door and returned in about 30 seconds waving me forward.  Behind the door, he asked if I could allow about ten minutes to finish the process and apologized for my long wait.  He said it was not acceptable for anyone to be kept waiting more than two hours. The lady who handled my application said my name was nowhere in the que and she didn't know what had happened.  I guess I was wrong to be relieved that I couldn't be seen in the system.  I wonder if I will get an invisible Medicare Card or invisible money...

Unwillingly Awake

I am not one to remain in bed when sleep has left me.  With a 2:30AM clock face staring at me , the best option seemed to be arise (not necessarily shine) for awhile.  A warm cup of herbal tea and a great book will almost always have me ready to nod off within minutes. After re-reading the pages of my latest thriller several times, I realized concentration was beyond me. A game of sudoku quickly stumped me, my tea cup is empty and I've switched to ice water.  Sleep still has not beckoned.  

A few minutes of quiet meditation, perhaps a bit of venting here, and I will again have a clear mind for blissful sleep.  Health issues seldom plague me, but family members suffer constant challenges.  With Pappy here, aging is constantly on my mind.  Ol' Abner fights to accomplish physical labor with the ever present oxygen bottle.  Daughter is dealing with aggressive diagnostic testing to determine the source of some strange symptoms.  Younger grand daughter is limiting some of her skating jumps due to ankle pain of questionable etiology.  A visit with my maker has brought some peace.

Now, if I can just figure out why my golf swing was so off yesterday, I might return to dreamland.

Deep Breaths

We returned home on Saturday from the plains bringing Pappy along with us.  It's his third day here and he is finally finding his chair without  direction, the bathroom is a destination he can navigate without too much help and when it's bedtime he strolls to the end of the hall where his familiar pictures hang.  We stocked up on his choice foods soon after our arrival at home and his routine continues.  At 93, routine is a must.  Habit kicks in when memory fails.  Physically his health is stellar, mentally he struggles.  Always though, he is cheerful and grateful for our assistance.  

Ol' Abner is struggling physically.  Breathing takes more and more effort.  He cannot walk around outside without the ever present oxygen tank on his shoulder.  Frustration makes him short tempered, then remorseful for his angry outbursts.  He knows I don't take it personally but my stress shows I guess when I see him in distress.

Today he turned in the information to be contacted for an evaluation of lung transplant candidacy.  It was a step that confirms the decline in his lung function.  While we are both hopeful, apprehension about the path ahead cannot be avoided.

Quiet Please

I'm feeling a sense of unrest.  Much needs to be accomplished in the coming weeks, yet I have no control over most of the events occurring.  Planning isn't coming naturally and other players seem to be absent.  Changing dates for travel and additional events inserted amid current happenings are making my brain feel like crawling mush!  A busy holiday season is erupting all around and I have the urge to hide inside my house with the lights turned off.  

Laughter in the Evening

Last week we joined Hardtime Man and Spoiled Rot'n Girl for dinner at one of our mutually favorite restaurants.  Grumpy Man was here helping Ol' Abner with some manual labor and came along to hear the tales from their recent trip.  They usually spend late summer and early autumn down on the gulf coast, fishing, boating, swimming, golfing and riding motorcycles on back roads.  Their routine was changed this year for many reasons.  They left the boat at home and planned to fish from the docks while spending days enjoying balmy weather on dry land.  Posts from the coast on social media were filled with tales of rain and chilly days.  Movie reviews and photos posted of Rot'n eating ice cream with a less than welcome pose were the usual missive.  The rains arrived just as our travelers settled into their temporary digs, and apparently continued throughout most days of the stay.  A backdoor message warning that home would soon be on the horizon  arrived a couple of months earlier than expected.

We talked and laughed over our Italian dinner, then occupied the table long after the wait staff was ready to turn the table. The dairy dessert stop a few blocks up the street was a logical progression for five people unwilling to part.  Despite the luxury of the new "camper", long days of listening to the rain had them both suffering from "cabin fever"  incumbent with boredom and frustration.  As we were regaled with stories of three elderly ladies in the care of our friends, Grumpy Man was ever so grateful for his own mother, still active and self sufficient in her late seventies. Hardtime Man's aunt is bedridden and suffers dementia from her nursing home.  His mother is well served in an assisted living facility, and Rot'n looks in on her mother living just three doors down in the hometown.  Both mothers are on the verge of needing a higher level of care.  Antics of telephone calls never made  amid complaints that she cannot get in touch with family, service providers and even the telephone company make Rot'n throw up her hands and walk away from her mother.  Hardtime's mother always feels the need to make a trip to the emergency room when he is a half day's drive away.  This time was no exception, but she called other family members urging them to keep her "ailment and care" a secret from her son.  The next morning she called to fill him in on all the details.  Their badly needed respite had turned into a soggy series of wet sand in unspeakable places, but the telling of the tales gave us all a light hearted release with the sharing of experiences.

Oh how we missed our frequent outings with these friends.  It's good to have them back in the area!

Punkins

My taste buds are feeling the need for fall flavors, specifically for autumn spices.  I love the taste of cinnamon and nutmeg.  Sage and celery added to cornbread makes a wonderful side dish for poultry or pork.  Perhaps its these first cool days after a long hot summer that spurs the desire for cold weather foods.  Even the restaurants are beginning to push foods reminiscent of cooler seasons.

For me the ultimate Autumn food would be pumpkin.  Ol' Abner refers to them as "gourds" and despises even the smell.  Oh woe is me.  I indulge in anything pumpkin as the season progresses.  Pumpkin pie, pumpkin muffins, pumpkin flavored coffee, pumpkin roll, pumpkin cheesecake, pumpkin soup and of course a pumpkin smoothie to start my day.  One of my favorite caterers offered an autumn cooking class a decade or two ago and I still pull those recipes out when I feel this welcome urge.  She used the entire pumpkin. The pulp, the seeds and the rind were all valued in preparation of her treats.  A meatloaf or beef stew baked in a pumpkin hull infused a richness never found before.  Large pumpkins became serving vessels for punches and soups.  Tiny pie pumpkins held yummy dips in a lovely setting on the appetizer table.  We tossed the seeds in sweet or savory spices and baked them.The resulting goodies added crunch to almost any recipe and provided a quick snack food to add to trail mixes or use as a topping.

I even love the color of pumpkin.  The soft orange exudes comfort.  (I refuse to compare it to the "burnt orange" celebrated in this neighborhood) I love it's soft warmth.   Maybe this is a childhood indulgence. Early memories of my grandmother bring to mind a sometimes endearment she used for me.  She would pat her lap and say "Come here Punkin'" signaling that I could sit and rock til sleep just magically happened.  Maybe pumpkins are magical, even after midnight!

This can't be SLEEP

Last week I went to  a local laboratory to sleep publicly overnight.  That thought in itself was rather intimidating.  An infrared camera recording my every twist, turn, and snort in the night isn't my perception of good times.  I arrived sans face cream, hair product or lotions on my scaly body per instructions.  I completed a thick volume of paper questionnaires and readied myself for bed. Wires and electrodes were attached to every muscle in my body, or so it felt.  It would be an exaggeration to say over 600 electrodes were placed, but certainly enough were in place to monitor my every move or twitch.  The technician happily snapped a photo when I mentioned my probable likeness to a "Frankenstein type character", then continued to apply more bits of paste with electrodes inserted.  When the trussing was completed, further insult  involved insertion of fat tubes into my nostrils to force air down my throat.  I was rendered speechless with cold air expelling uncomfortably from my face.  One would think this process would be enough for anyone ever.  Oh no, I returned as instructed for a second round last night.  Even though I knew what to expect this time, it was no less uncomfortable and certainly no kin to restful. How can this be a sleep study, when very little of that actually happens.  The technician assured me I slept quite a lot last night.  I guess she should know, but for some reason I arrived home wanting nothing more than to fall into my own bed.  Two hours later I had to get up to meet another commitment, but I assure you I will sleep well tonight.  There won't be a camera anywhere nearby to capture the experience, and I will awake without the dreaded PASTE in my hair!

Can you match the other ends?

Let the wiring begin

Steamed!

Hill country is hot! No surprise there, but usually the air conditioner gives relief instantly when entering the house.  We returned from Temple, where Ol' Abner didn't get the great news he was planning, only to walk into a rather warm house.  He messed with the thermostat and declared it dead.  Suspecting it was on borrowed time, he had purchased a replacement a few days ago.  Gathering his tools, he set to work replacing the errant device while I turned on fans throughout the house. New thermostat was installed, and nothing changed. The dog didn't seem to be suffering, so we concluded the cooling hadn't been malfunctioning long.  A call to the air conditioner  repair contractor didn't give much comfort.  They are booked through next week, but since Ol' Abner is recovering from a surgical procedure, an evening visit would be worked in on Thursday.  I guess we better prepare to swelter for a couple of days.

Gotta Play, Gotta Play!

We often have lunch at the golf clubhouse here in our little berg.  The food is great and the casual atmosphere in view of the beautiful golf course with the lake beyond is always refreshing.  Ol' Abner has been dusting off his clubs and has been invited to play with several of the old codgers that frequent the course.  This afternoon a large number of couples arrived at the end of some sort of organized contest.  It isn't as though I'm not having enough fun these days, but suddenly a gap opened in my realm of experiences.  I mentioned that it just might be time for me to learn the game.

Ol' Abner immediately escorted me over to the pro-shop to check on scheduling some lessons.  Within a few minutes, we were headed to the golf cart dealer.  Even though our membership includes a cart, we can get a nice discount if we have our own.  I don't have clubs yet, but I'm now the proud owner of an EZ Go golf cart.  It will be outfitted and delivered next week.  I'm wondering if I can be outfitted so soon...

Just Stand UP!

After nearly two weeks of travel, my backside refuses to remain in a sitting position for long.  The last forty-eight hours have involved a ride to the Seattle airport before dawn to catch a plane to Little Rock with a layover for lunch (at breakfast time in Phoenix), ending with a shuttle from the Little Rock airport in bumper to bumper, stop and creep traffic.  I was able to stretch my legs for a few minutes as I checked on my car in the parking garage, resisted the urge to go down the waterfront and join the RiverFest activities, and strolled across the street to a sandwich shop instead.  I crawled in bed before the sky was even dark to sleep for a few hours.

On Saturday morning, as in a few minutes after midnight, I loaded my belongings into my waiting car and began the drive from Little Rock to Lago Vista.  Nearly nine hours later, my numb behind, was unloaded again.  Another shower to refresh my sagging hair was necessary before I loaded, this time as a passenger, into another vehicle to head for Houston to a memorial service for an old friend.  Ol' Abner and I shared memories of this giant of a man (no kidding, 6'6" and boasted quite a copius girth for many years) with such a giant heart, sense of humor and intense loyalty.  He was actually a month younger than Ol' Abner, further reminding us of our own mortality.  Sitting politely through the service and loving the chance to stand and visit afterward, I dreaded the repeat of another couple of hours travel.  (Did I actually say that?  I DREADED travel!)  On the way home, we stopped at a revered BarBQ place and of course, sat to eat.

This morning, I'm standing to type and considering a walk to take some of the pup's girth down to size. She seems to have expanded a bit while I was gone.

Wake up now!

I indulged in a sleep-in this morning.  My bed felt so good, it was hard to give up the squirming and stretching and finally crawl out of it.  The weekend was wonderful and a good night's rest just reaffirmed that I'm not as young as I was once!

We began Thursday with the arrival of Guitar Man and Dancing Girl.  After they closed on their house Friday morning, we reviewed the inventory of things to move in and things to buy.  We had just arrived at a burger place for lunch when Stan the Golfcart man called to tell them he was on his way to deliver the little blue jewel they had purchased.  We finished eating and returned to take delivery...and as yet I'm not sure the wheeled baby has a name, but she cruises between our homes quite well, even with some oversized behinds loaded!  The remainder of the afternoon was spent purchasing nuts and bolts, blinds and appliances to make the new home ready.  A plumber met the men while we finished the purchases, and again I am in awe of Dancing Girl.  She can find a bargain and dicker it down every bit as well as Ol' Abner.  Friday night, exhausted and satisfied that the process was begun, we traveled into town for our favorite steak dinner and West Texas Wine.

Saturday was a day of working at the new home.  An empty house always requires serious cleaning, and Ol' Abner and Guitar Man worked diligently with minor and a few fairly major repairs.  I observed all this industry for a time, then bailed on them to meet Daughter and her family to see the newest action flick episode.  We returned to my house in time for the tired workers to begin cooking on the grill.  Oh yes, I made it just in time to see the Kentucky Derby sans my hat and mint julep.   Dancing Girl sliced and plated vegetables while I made a big pitcher of Lemon-Drop Martinis. Son and Daughter In Law arrived and we all indulged in a few hours of eating, drinking and reminiscing.

Last night our new neighbors/house guests departed for their permanent residence, tired but still excited. They'll be back next weekend with a load of stuff and to take delivery of more purchases.

This morning, at my house, plumbing is disconnected and the granite installers and plumber are on their way...soon I hope.  Breakfast is a bit of a challenge without a kitchen sink or counter tops.  We bought  granite to replace the bathroom counter tops, too.  Now I better go get those cleared.  Oh yes, I did deserve a few extra minutes of snooze time this morning.

Thump!

Another illusion down the tank!  Both my grandmothers lived into their nineties enjoying reasonable decent health until their final few months.  My mother lived to 75 with a demise from cancer attributed to years of cigarette smoking.  One Grandfather lived til 96 and the other died of a heart ailment at 68. My father (not Pappy) died at 53 from lung cancer, another one to blame on cigarette smoking.  My premise here:  I never smoked, I will enjoy a long healthy life!  My little Doctor Girl (I can call her that because she is a bit younger than my daughter) shattered my plan today.  Well, not really.  I'm not on the verge of eminent death, in fact I'm not even ill.  Seems my long life is gonna take a little more work than planned.

A few months ago, my annual exam revealed total cholesterol that had spiked since the previous year. It's been creeping up over the last decade, but 40 points was a bit too much.  Doctor Girl was much more concerned than I thought was necessary.  She asked if I would like to participate in a heart health study that included in depth lab and genetic tests predictive of heart disease.  Of course I agreed, all studies need a few duds that show nothing, right?

I embarked on her recommendation that I eat according to the Mediterranean diet.  I read several glowing reports of the success of this plan for overall health and weight control!  Bingo, weight loss would be wonderful, and I do like the foods.  Unfortunately I like most foods and this was the holiday season.  After the first of the year, I began preparing healthy seafood, chicken, brown rice and lots of vegetables.  Ol' Abner grumbled, but he should have been eating this way all along (I told him that anyway).  After 12 weeks, the lab dutifully drew my venom...uh..I mean blood, and forwarded the results for dissemination.

The good news relayed by my smiling practitioner was successful drop in my cholesterol to a high normal.  All my other lab values were in the mid to high normal levels. I already knew the sad fact that my weight had not changed one ounce.  She handed me my copy of the study explaining that results highlighted in green were very good, yellow would be indication that possible intermediate risk exists and red marks high risk for cardiovascular event.  Mostly green blocks on the pages with a few yellow blocks interspersed...and two big RED boxes.  Both of the ugly red suckers were not a picture of my current health, but those ugly genes that I cannot see.  She gently explained that these are elements of my health I cannot change...wait, I want new cards!

I'm not sure how I feel about this news.  I suppose it's good to know that continuing healthy eating habits and regular exercise may prevent an early death from heart disease.  I planned to follow the path of my grandmothers without effort!  Doggone it, now I'm really feeling a need for a lovely dish of Creme' Brulee!

Beware Buyer!

A visit from long time friends can revive old hopes and dreams.  Our little town on the lake in central Texas was the setting for fun times with our young children back in the eighties.  We all lived in Houston at the time but dreamed of one day having a weekend or retirement home on this lake.  Our visits here often included a drive-around to look at property in the area.  Since that time both families have scattered and we have all moved far and near.

This weekend Guitar Man and Dancing Girl spent the weekend with us and our real estate agent.  We all love looking at homes, with realistic and fantasy characteristics.  We now own our home here and they are ready to begin the transition to becoming a two home family.  This is the place!  They are thinking they'll buy a "fixer-upper" with a large enough lot to add a manly playhouse.  Their needs are pretty similar to ours, so the realtor fell into step with us quite easily.  After all, he showed us homes for nearly a year before we finally completed our purchase.

When a friendship has endured over the many years, the people become a "chosen" part of our family. I met Dancing Girl when she came to our office as a temporary worker.  We were in need of a very fast typist who could quickly learn medical terms.  She fit the spot.  She was newly pregnant with her third child and needed the flexibility afforded by a temporary job.  We met her need.  From that beginning, the friendship has continued to meet both our needs over and over.

I have been watching a house up the street from us with some ugly paint and need of a few minor repairs. The price reflects the needs and falls in their desired range.  It was the first one they viewed.  After seeing several properties, they settled on it, only to see three other showings taking place the same day. No activity in nearly two months and suddenly a flurry of interest had appeared. Ol' Abner made it a point to race up the street on Harley Brown each time the other realtors came with clients. Guitar Man and Dancing Girl  made a fair offer and waited...and waited!  Meanwhile they had arranged to purchase the lot behind it for placement of Guitar Man's playhouse.  One of the other lookers, undeterred by the roaring rider, made an offer and our friends upped their ante.  After an agonizing day, they won the prize.  Now we are all a little euphoric.   Thirty years after we played here, we look forward to beginning a new round of playtimes.