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.

Play Time!

I am finally walking without crutches, though my choices of shoes are very limited.  I can walk around the house a little at a time and we go out for a few hours without my crutches. I have to come home and prop my leg up after any outing to rest my toes.  Yes, I said "my toes".  My foot and ankle are functional and I walk with only a slight limp, but my three mangled toes scream "STOP" after and hour or so of slow moving activity. An evening out for dinner requires the following day of sitting with my foot propped up on a pillow with intermittent soaking to settle the toe spasms.  There is good news here though...Each recovery seems to be better.  This morning I am up with resolve!

My urge to sew is bubbling over.  I been touching and sorting my fabrics for several weeks.  My supplies are organized and straightened.  I still have  Creative Girl's little portable table with ironing pad set beside my sewing table.  The bar in the kitchen is covered now with my vinyl cloth for sorting fabric pieces.  Today I SHALL sew!  

Next week I look forward to a sewing retreat with three, maybe four, perhaps even five of my friends who sew!  Dancin' Girl will host at her house on the lake and we will sew all day long for three days straight. Several projects are in the plans, so I will get out later today to shop for a few final items to add to my supply hoard.

Creative Girl was traveling with her husband Planter Man yesterday  and gathered a few Row by Row Patterns and kits for me.  Have I told you about that project yet?  It is such fun to visit quilt shops around the country and the Row by Row event is a summer long, nationwide, shop hop (sort of).  When eight rows or more are combined into a quilt, said quilt may be eligible for a prize when taken to a participating quilt shop...and why would you take it to any other kind?  Creative Girl, my over-achiever friend, completed her enhanced version of a ten-row quilt last week and took it in to claim a fantastic prize.  We had such fun visiting shops, even in my lame condition, earlier in the month that though her quilt is finished she is still gathering row patterns and kits for the rest off us.  Planter Man was meeting with other fruit growing enthusiasts somewhere near San Antonio this weekend. He graciously agreed to allow her stops along the way at quilt shops for gathering fabrics and row kits. I am ready now to begin making the first of my rows!

Choosing happy

I refuse to be sad! If I spend one moment dwelling on the situation in our country, I have the urge to cry.  I want to cease reading or watching any kind of news.  Optimism is hard to muster when a madman opens fire on a peaceful protest, with the escorting police officers his target. Politicians all strive to make their mark in the aftermath...and I just want to cry.  This is the reality, I must face daily and yet I hope it will get better.

My life is pretty good. We live in a safe neighborhood.  Our city is usually safe enough to move around without feeling threatened.  We live comfortably, wanting for little.  Good restaurants are available, entertainment is near and varied.  Our house is on a hill overlooking a beautiful golf course and a lake beyond. Healthcare is readily available to us and we are well insured from the financial burden of same. Membership in a large loving church congregation soothes our spirit. So why am so troubled?

I ran across an article a few days ago that seemed to give rise to my melancholy.  As a young person hearing the Russian Premier Kruchev tell our president that they would destroy us from within, I shuddered.  He seemed so certain.  As a young adult, the memory surfaced when I read Saul Alinsky's "Rules for Radicals."  The process for creating and controlling a population to create a social state seemed so simplistic, I refused to believe Americans would ever allow it to happen..  All of the principles from Alisky's formula are in place in our country today. I see a struggle to resist, but it is pathetically weak. Our children have been subject to an education that presents a social state as a sort of "Utopia" and selectively edits history and science.  This will be their country to inherit. 

I will not dwell on this any longer.  Putting my concerns in writing gives me a bit of release, even as I hear a physician talk in a tear filled voice about the recent massacre.  I must turn inward and be thankful for my many blessings.  I have children and grandchildren that are part of our hope for the future.  It is their future and I will not wallow in guilt for leaving them with it.  I will enjoy life and love the people that make it worth living.  I will keep my friends near and remember to talk to them often.  I will do the projects and travel to the places that are my happy plans.  Our pastor shared a passage I recognize.  It gives me comfort.
1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 Be joyful always. Pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus. (NIV)

Escape is in sight

Tomorrow is a much anticipated day!  For nearly a month I have worn a lovely green cast on my lower left leg.  Tomorrow, I have an appointment to have it removed.  I know fiberglass is lighter than the old plaster casts, but trust me it is cumbersome when trying to adjust position in bed at night and arising from a chair...or a bench or a booth.  At times I must make more than one attempt to stand up.  It's as though I must rock and bounce to make my functional leg gain balance and lift my abundant carcass up!  Crutches are a pain to perch around a table or booth in a restaurant in a place where they do not create a hazard for others attempting to pass.  Zelda Green has been handy at home when I must haul things around the house, but getting her in and out of the car is not a skill we have mastered.  A friend suffered a crash with a similar device and added another six weeks to her recovery after breaking her OTHER foot in the mishap.  With that in mind, I am overly cautious when driving her around the house.

Crutches are not without hazard.  I have stubbed my toes (extended out beyond the front of the cast) on door facings, stomped them with my crutch and hit them on table supports when trying to sit.  When all my fractures are healed, I may require intervention for my toes.  It would appear I am sorely in need of a pedicure, but I fear my black and blue toes will not tolerate any poking and rubbing! A good soaking may be my only indulgence once the green accessory is removed!  Ah, come on tomorrow!

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! 

Don't Make Plans You Can't Change!

We enjoyed a glorious trip to the Bay City area and Grand Canyon on the way back home.  I kinked up the fun on the last day of our trip with a fall that wasn't in the plan.  It made for a painful exit from the Grand Canyon. That night I removed my shoe to find a weak painful appendage, pretty much useless for traversing the hotel room. let alone beginning the trip home.  The following morning Ol' Abner managed to get me off the third floor via wheelchair provided by the front desk.  They had given us instructions for finding the clinic in the park and off we went.  I suspected I had a nasty sprain and felt like a strong ace wrap and a pair of crutches would fix me right up. Exam, xrays. more than just an ace wrap, and we were sent on our way.

My fibula was fractured about six inches up the back of my leg, and the tibia was protruding to the side about an inch and a half above the ankle joint. Sadly I was told it would require surgery.  I was instructed to go straight to an orthopedic surgeon upon arrival home.  The splint you see in the photo goes up the leg above the knee keeping the entire limb immobilized.  Walking on crutches was exciting as I dragged the useless leg across parking lots and into each rest stop along the way.

It was a long ride home.  Ol' Abner agreed to go all the way to my sister's home (12 hours up the road from Grand Canyon) for our first night of sleep.  He knew what he was getting into as we left the canyon just after noon.  It was nearly four a.m. when we finally made our way onto the front porch for family hospitality.

Speaking of family, I created havoc back in Texas during my morning visit to the clinic.  I was indulging in a chat thread with my sewing friends admiring their newest creations and briefly mentioned that I was awaiting an xray of my leg.  Of course I kept them updated for the next half hour as we progressed to a diagnosis and plan for path home.  Did I mention that there is almost no phone service in the park area.  Internet is available in a few limited places and the clinic offered the only good service I had found. As we left on the trip I had set up a group message for my children and Dancin' Girl, to keep them apprised of our safe arrival on each leg of the trip.  Dancin' Girl is an integral member of the sewing group.  Yep you can imagine the rest of this story.  She messaged the kids to see if they had checked on us this morning... an up went their antennae(?) or should it be antennas?  I'll check on that later.  Needless to say, both our cell phones started lighting up, but the calls would drop when we tried to answer or return the call. Son was texting his dad and daughter was calling, Daughter in Law was calling me and sending urgent texts. We were helpless and incognito! An hour or so up the road we were able to make calls from the interstate highway corridor. Our children were noisily concerned and not a little upset that my sewing group knew of my injury before they heard about it.  I was just too tired to explain.  

After a two day drive, our first stop in the Hill Country was the local emergency room to get that needed orthopedic referral.  The good news...xray taken when we arrived was a little different from the one prior to application of that magnificent gargantuan splint.  The fracture of my tibia was no longer displaced!  The preliminary conclusion was that surgery might not be necessary, but the final decision would be left to the specialist I was to call on Monday morning.

The Canyon! It IS GRAND!

Our trip continued from the Bay City area heading back East again via the Grand Canyon.  Grand Canyon South Rim is a long way from anywhere, but the drive is well worth the trek. Upon arrival at the park, we were ready to purchase our admission (posted as $30. per person per day) and mentioned that we thought there was a special deal for seniors!  Jackpot! I paid a $10. fee one time and received a pass valid for the remainder of my life for all occupants of my car.  My driver's license must be shown along with the pass and voila, my whole carload of people will be admitted to any national park.  Now that's a deal! (ok, we later discovered it does have some limitations.).

Mather Point near the Visitor's center

Once we had visited our hotel and asked when we might be able to check in, we had some lunch and took off to find the main attraction.  Through the gate, after attaining my lifetime pass and on to the visitor's center, we watched an informative movie and set off on the concrete path for the Mather Point Observation Point!

A long shot from the Desert View Watchtower

 A text from son that we must see the Desert View Watchtower and we set off to find it.  We returned to the town to check in to our room and asked about it.  The desk clerk gave us some less than clear directions, so we asked again as we went through the gate using our trusty pass. The  park ranger gave us a map and advised that it would show how to get there.

A view along the Desert View Drive

 We drove the distance to the Watchtower and it was time well spend.  As we drove along, glances to the left revealed seconds of glorious views as we followed the road along the south rim in search of the unknown attraction.

From the parking lot of the Watchtower

We were enthralled by the views from the Desert View Watchtower.  Thinking it might be a tower built by natives to protect themselves. It was surprising to find that it had been built using native stones and methods by a group of artists to better take advantage of the can views.  I  purchased a book detailing its vision, planning and construction (circa 1933) and am anxious to spend an afternoon reading it.

My last photo from the Canyon

Watching our time, we left the Watchtower and pulled over at several stops we had noticed on the way to the end of the drive.  Holding tickets to see the IMAX theater tour of the canyon, we wanted to be back in time to see the last showing by 8:30, but hoping to make it for the 6:30 event.  The views on every stop were breathtaking.  We agreed that the pullover with close by views would be our last stop.  It was hard to leave and we each took a dozen or so photos.  There were no railings for fences to keep us from going close to the edge for those spectacular views.  Ol' Abner ventured closer to the edge than I would, but I snapped the photo above just before I turned around and started back up the hill toward the car. 

That was the moment that I stepped on a gravel covered rock and the gravel made it's exit, taking my ripping, tearing tissue in my foot with it!  I knew the feeling of velcro being ripped apart was not a good omen.  I quickly advised everyone to NOT touch me as I glanced behind at the view you can see.  I was able to pull myself up and Ol' Abner supported me as I hobbled back to the car.  We went on to the IMAX theater in time to see the 7:30 showing of a fantastic film (from center theater with my bum foot propped up over the seat in from of me).  All absolute "must do" plans for the canyon had been completed.