Cribbed from Mimi's blog. Actually, I ended up going to the source, someone called Rosemary, because somehow Mimi lost some of the letters of the alphabet. Apparently this is supposed to be called the "Domestic Goddess" meme, but as anyone who knows me knows, I don't Do goddesses. Call it the "Domestic Domovaya" meme, a domovaya being the female of two little Russian house spirits who keep things ticking along for the family (and mess things up if they don't think the family is taking good enough care of the home!).
Aprons- Y/N- I love aprons but I don't always wear one. My favorites are "housewifey" aprons, you know, the full apron with the bib and a gathered waist and a ruffle around the bottom. Try to find one. I'm seriously considering making a couple. I used to wear them all the time, till Functional and Utilitarian came into vogue, and I wish it would go away again.
Baking-- Favorite thing to bake: Kulich, Russian Easter cake. I used to bake a lot more when the kids were home, but the hubster doesn't like baked goodies, and I'm too fat to deal with them myself. (One thing I refuse to touch, BTW, is cookies. One afternoon, about 20 years ago, I made five dozen chocolate-chip cookies, and the kids and hubster, who were watching a movie, consumed every single one. That's it! Cookies are too much d*** work to vanish in a single afternoon.)
Clothesline- Y/N Absolutely! Good for the environment, good for the wallet, clothes have a smell and feel that no fabric softener could ever give them (yes, I use that too). In the winter I dry clothes on a rack in the kitchen, which humidifies the house.
Donuts-- Have you ever made them? No. What, this New Yorker?! Doughnuts are something you buy in a bakery!
One homemaking thing you do Every day-- Well, dishes, of course. And dinner.
Freezer-- Do you have a separate deep freeze? No. When living in Europe, I got used to shopping every day, and I still do that. If we know it's going to snow, I'll pick up a few extra meals and freeze them in the refrigerator freezer, but otherwise, no, a big freezer would be a waste of money for us.
Garbage Disposal-- Y/N? Yes. When ours broke a few years back, there was no question about replacing it. I didn't grow up with one, though -- they used to be illegal in New York City, not sure why.
Handbook-- What is your favorite homemaking resource? Currently I use FlyLady, when the CHAOS gets to be too much. But my all-time favorite is a book published in the 1970s, "The Psychiatrist's Wife's Guide to Housekeeping," written with wit and a healthy dose of reality.
Ironing--Love it or hate it? I do hate it, but since the hubster has all-cotton shirts, it's a necessity -- one I have neglected far too long at this point. I'll only iron five shirts at a time, though.
Junk drawer--Y/N? Where is it? Yes, in the kitchen. How do people manage without at least one junk drawer?!
Kitchen: Design and decorating? We did this two years ago, the whole shebang -- new cabinets, new floor, new stove (natural gas!), new color scheme -- blue and white. Oddly enough, we don't spend any more time in the kitchen now than we used to, and I think it's because the room is too blue -- it gives off a very cold feeling. But I'm not sure what to do about it. Paint the blue wainscoting red??
Love: What is your favorite part of homemaking? Hanging the laundry out on the line.
Mop Y/N Not as much as I'd like. Who has the time?!
Nylons-- Wash by hand or in the washing machine? In the machine, of course. Again, who has the time to wash things by hand?!
Oven-- Do you use the window or t open the door to check? I open the door. I used to have to open the oven, when we had an oven without a window, so now I turn on my light and use the window all the time.
Pizza-- What do you put on yours? We used to get mushroom pizzas, but again, that was a kid thing, and since they've moved out, I don't think we've had pizza at all. (The original blogger, Rosemary, wrote: "My family likes it plain so we usually get plain. I like ham, bacon, black olives-- almost anything different, but my family won't go for it." It struck me how many things Mom likes go by the board for the sake of the family. You ALL know what I'm talking about!)
Quiet-- What do you do during the day when you get a quiet moment? Blog, pray, read, needlework. There are a lot more of those since the kids grew up. The hardest time of the day is around 3:00 or 3:30, when they used to come steaming in the door, and the real work of the day would begin. Dinnertime is hard, too -- as my optometrist said, "There's a voice that should be at the dinner table, and isn't."
Recipe Card Box Y/N? I have one, that I used to use a lot more often. It has all my favorite recipes from our time in Germany, and I still like them the best. Maybe I don't use it so often because I have them all memorized, after nearly 38 years???
Style of house-- Good question. It's supposed to be a "ranch," with everything on one floor, but it doesn't fit my idea of a ranch, big and sprawling. It's 950 square feet, with two bedrooms, a living room, an eat-in kitchen, and a three-season enclosed porch. I would like to call it a bungalow or a cottage, which sounds much homier. I would also, if I won the lottery, which I don't play, like to redecorate the outside in an Arts and Crafts style.
Tablecloths and napkins? When we use the kitchen table, yes. Cloth napkins, too. But again, we rarely use the kitchen table anymore -- we eat in the living room off the coffee table, listen to the radio, catch up on each other's day, and watch TV if there's anything worthwhile (our current definition of "worthwhile" is NCIS on Tuesdays and some PBS train program on Mondays -- they run a couple).
Under the kitchen sink-- organized or toxic wasteland? Pretty organized, actually, but that's because the garbage disposal takes up so much room that there isn't room for very much else. I would love to store my dishrack down there (no dishwasher), but there just isn't room for it -- so it stays in the second sink (we have a double sink, part of the kitchen upgrade).
Vacuum-- how many times per week? I blogged about this awhile back. I hate vacuuming. I hate the noise, mostly, but I also hate lugging that monster around after me. I vacuum only when I really have to, and the rest of the time, dust-mop and carpet-sweep (I need a new carpet sweeper, too). We don't have carpets, BTW, just rugs and hardwood floors.
Wash-- How many loads of laundry do you do in a week? One a day, if I keep up with it. This one's a little funny, though. As anyone with kids knows, the best description of laundry is FlyLady's "Mount Washmore," and from Kathleen Norris ("The Cloister Walk") I cribbed the story of the lady who says she's going to have engraved on her tombstone, "At last her laundry's done." I'd do it, too, if I thought my Orthodox cemetery would let me get away with it. Anyway, the week after my daughter got married, I went down to the basement laundry room to tackle the wash -- and there was nothing. One little pile of underwear, from the hubster and me. Our son had decided to start washing his own laundry, and I looked around and thought, "My life is over." It's scary how much laundry can take over your life!
(My own personal "Washer B" question: Front load or top load? We have a front load, and I love it!)
X's-- Do you keep a daily list of things to do and cross them off? When life doesn't get away from me, which, come to think of it, is the whole purpose of keeping such a list. But it's invaluable to me, in terms of keeping track of things like appointments, phone calls, and errands -- It is called a Franklin Planner.
Yard-- Who does what? My husband. Mimi and I share a lot in common, including a black thumb. Every year I buy annuals at the gardening center, and if I get around to it, I plant them -- otherwise, he does that, too, as well as tend his vegetable garden. And in the fall, if he still has productive plants, he brings them indoors and keeps them alive on the bay windowsill. One year my daughter asked us if we were growing the Little Shop of Horrors. My husband's very good with plants.
Zzz's--What is your last homemaking task for the day before going to bed? Diehes. Once the dishes are washed, the day is done, though if my husband would let me, I'd make his lunch, too. Poor soul has to get up at 3:00 a.m. and leave the house at 4:15 to catch the bus to Boston, where he works, and I just don't see that after a day like that, a man should have to make his own lunch. But he does.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
A Revelation, I Think
I posted this as a "meditation" (how stuffy, but I don't know what else to call it) to the OrthWomen's list yesterday. It went over well there, so I thought I'd copy it here.
Just thinking over the weekend about ourChris, and the incredible turns his life has taken: We would never have dreamed, back about 10 or 15 years ago, that his life could ever have turned out so successfully. Back in 1992, there wasn't a lot of sympathy for kids with Asperger's Syndrome, mostly because it hadn't yet been officiallyclassified as a condition, so Chris, who was then in middle school, put up with a lot of guff out of various teachers, and the indignity of being put into special-ed classes along with kids with a fraction of his intelligence - but ADD or ADHD was the only possible "code" available at the time, so we had to agree to special ed or have his teachers pick on him relentlessly. Back then, we just hoped he'd get out of high school without some kind of lasting stigma.
Back then, I actually, seriously, asked God why He had created Chris, if his only lot in life was to suffer: Hard to explain to a 10- or 15-year-old that being a "Christ-bearer," which is what "Christopher" means, is a great honor, if it means following Christ even to the carrying of an exceptionally heavy cross. True, it was right around this time that his voice developed into one of the finest basses I have ever heard, what the Russians call an"octavist," meaning he can sing somewhere in the 9th sub-basement of the musical scale. And I realized that at least one purpose of his existence was to glorify God with that voice, so that was its own kind of answer. Ijust wished that the rest of his life could be as successful, so he would at least get some sense that his life is worth living - it sure didn't seem like it, at the time.
But very recently, with the positive changes that have occurred in his life - and with the miscarriage our daughter suffered a little over a year ago - praying for that small life that was snuffed out so soon, and for its uncle, who has known pretty much nothing but sorrow and grief - recently it occurred to me: God creates a person for Himself. It isn't that He doesn't expect us to lead useful and productive lives, and He certainly gives us the means to do so - in Chris's case, parents who loved him and believed in him when no one else did - but little Sophia, who never had a chance to live this life - hey, her life is just as valuable to Him. Just because we never had a chance to know her, doesn't mean He doesn't know her and cherish her most intimately, rejoicing in her presence in His life. Just means we have to wait a bit longer to meet her.
What a mind-boggler. God creates each life for Himself, for the sheer joyof getting to know each one of us, for the sheer delight of listening to an octavist with the grimy hands of a railroad worker, or the lightning intellect and golden tongue of a great orator of the Church, or the profound reverence and love for Him of a heart that can't carry a tune in a bucket. He doesn't care about our deficiencies - those are the deficiencies of the world. We are what we are, and when we remember that He holds an icon of us in His hands - the image of what He intended when He created us - when we just make the most of how He created us, then we become what He intended,and fulfill His purpose for our lives. Does it get any better than that?
A couple of the responses on the list frankly horrified me - the things these people live with every day, that made me feel phenomenally presumptuous, posting all of this. But then I thought: Things like cerebral palsy and abuse, Parkinson's, children's cancers, all seem so outrageously cruel, and we wonder why God allows them - but they're part and parcel of being in a fallen world, just like that tsunami a couple of years ago. Our priest gave a sermon about that in which he opined that God has not finished creating the world yet, and that's why tsunamis and earthquakes happen.
Hmmm. Stands to reason, then, that He isn't finished perfecting*us,* either, and as I was just reading, when St. Paul asked for his affliction to be taken away from him - three times, yet - God's answer was,"My strength is made perfect in weakness." Oh-kay. But it's beginning to dawn on me (emphasis on "beginning") that the suffering, in whatever way, shape, or form, is part of conforming us to His image, and the scars are all part of our "icon" - maybe the physical or emotional scars wipe out or cover over the spiritual scars of our transgressions(as it says in the funeral service of the Orthodox Church). It's not my place, or anyone's, really, to try to figure it out. But it sure helps me to realize that there's a purpose for my existence beyond this time and space, and that He made me because He wanted me.
Geeeeeeeeeeezzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...!!!
Just thinking over the weekend about ourChris, and the incredible turns his life has taken: We would never have dreamed, back about 10 or 15 years ago, that his life could ever have turned out so successfully. Back in 1992, there wasn't a lot of sympathy for kids with Asperger's Syndrome, mostly because it hadn't yet been officiallyclassified as a condition, so Chris, who was then in middle school, put up with a lot of guff out of various teachers, and the indignity of being put into special-ed classes along with kids with a fraction of his intelligence - but ADD or ADHD was the only possible "code" available at the time, so we had to agree to special ed or have his teachers pick on him relentlessly. Back then, we just hoped he'd get out of high school without some kind of lasting stigma.
Back then, I actually, seriously, asked God why He had created Chris, if his only lot in life was to suffer: Hard to explain to a 10- or 15-year-old that being a "Christ-bearer," which is what "Christopher" means, is a great honor, if it means following Christ even to the carrying of an exceptionally heavy cross. True, it was right around this time that his voice developed into one of the finest basses I have ever heard, what the Russians call an"octavist," meaning he can sing somewhere in the 9th sub-basement of the musical scale. And I realized that at least one purpose of his existence was to glorify God with that voice, so that was its own kind of answer. Ijust wished that the rest of his life could be as successful, so he would at least get some sense that his life is worth living - it sure didn't seem like it, at the time.
But very recently, with the positive changes that have occurred in his life - and with the miscarriage our daughter suffered a little over a year ago - praying for that small life that was snuffed out so soon, and for its uncle, who has known pretty much nothing but sorrow and grief - recently it occurred to me: God creates a person for Himself. It isn't that He doesn't expect us to lead useful and productive lives, and He certainly gives us the means to do so - in Chris's case, parents who loved him and believed in him when no one else did - but little Sophia, who never had a chance to live this life - hey, her life is just as valuable to Him. Just because we never had a chance to know her, doesn't mean He doesn't know her and cherish her most intimately, rejoicing in her presence in His life. Just means we have to wait a bit longer to meet her.
What a mind-boggler. God creates each life for Himself, for the sheer joyof getting to know each one of us, for the sheer delight of listening to an octavist with the grimy hands of a railroad worker, or the lightning intellect and golden tongue of a great orator of the Church, or the profound reverence and love for Him of a heart that can't carry a tune in a bucket. He doesn't care about our deficiencies - those are the deficiencies of the world. We are what we are, and when we remember that He holds an icon of us in His hands - the image of what He intended when He created us - when we just make the most of how He created us, then we become what He intended,and fulfill His purpose for our lives. Does it get any better than that?
A couple of the responses on the list frankly horrified me - the things these people live with every day, that made me feel phenomenally presumptuous, posting all of this. But then I thought: Things like cerebral palsy and abuse, Parkinson's, children's cancers, all seem so outrageously cruel, and we wonder why God allows them - but they're part and parcel of being in a fallen world, just like that tsunami a couple of years ago. Our priest gave a sermon about that in which he opined that God has not finished creating the world yet, and that's why tsunamis and earthquakes happen.
Hmmm. Stands to reason, then, that He isn't finished perfecting*us,* either, and as I was just reading, when St. Paul asked for his affliction to be taken away from him - three times, yet - God's answer was,"My strength is made perfect in weakness." Oh-kay. But it's beginning to dawn on me (emphasis on "beginning") that the suffering, in whatever way, shape, or form, is part of conforming us to His image, and the scars are all part of our "icon" - maybe the physical or emotional scars wipe out or cover over the spiritual scars of our transgressions(as it says in the funeral service of the Orthodox Church). It's not my place, or anyone's, really, to try to figure it out. But it sure helps me to realize that there's a purpose for my existence beyond this time and space, and that He made me because He wanted me.
Geeeeeeeeeeezzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...!!!
Monday, February 05, 2007
I Am Still Here
It's been so long since I posted that I had to verify my username and password. That'll teach me.
You can probably assess the activity in my life by the activity on my blog, which is to say, when the blog is quiet, the life is zooming off into the far reaches of the galaxy. Well -- not really. It just feels that way.
After the phone call mentioned in my last post, nine days later, my husband hopped a train down to Philadelphia and helped Chris pack up his household -- what they were able to. He ended up leaving a lot of furniture behind, the worst of which was a futon sofa that we all really liked, and which he had used for a bed while living in Lansdale (suburb of Philly). They could have packed it into the truck with no trouble, but to get it into the elevator, they would have had to dismantle it, and lacked the necessary hex keys. Since they only discovered this on Saturday morning, and Chris was due in Vermont the following Monday, they ended up leaving the futon sofa behind, along with his computer desk, an entertainment center, and a large sectional sofa that he had intended to leave behind anyway. The new tenant of the apartment paid him $300 for all of this, items which cost him $1300 originally. Ouch.
He spent the following two weeks in classes to bring him up to speed on how things are run on a big-time freight line, graduated second in his class, came home last Friday for a semi-relaxing weekend -- we spent a good part of the time trying to track down an apartment near his base of operations -- and this morning, at 4:45 (shudder), he left home for the two-hour drive to the new job in Vermont. I told him to call if he got into trouble, so since he hasn't yet called, I guess he got there all right.
The rest of the time has been divided between trying to get my father-in-law's financial affairs regularized -- dealing with privacy laws has been enlightening, to put the best face on it -- and working on a replacement for an Aran sweater I knitted my husband, oh, about 15 or so years ago. That sweater has been gradually disintegrating over the past few years, and it finally dawned on me that I was going to have to knit a replacement. Two problems: (a) I really dislike working on Arans, and (b) it takes away from cross-stitching time. I finally finished the sweater (which was supposed to be his Christmas present) last night, only to find that the sleeves are about an inch too short. If you knit, you know what that means: Snip one thread where the cuff joins the body of the sleeve, unravel it, and knit a whole new cuff. If you notice any particularly blue air, it will be from all the cussing that has swirled forth into the world from this corner of it. If there's one knitting job more tedious than Arans, it's ribbing. Knit 2, purl whatever -- I prefer one -- for however many inches you can stand, or, as knitting guru Elizabeth Zimmermann put it, "To make a turtleneck sweater, cast on the required number of stitches and knit 2, purl 2, until you are sick of it." In my case, that would make a mighty short turtleneck. I hope to heaven this dratted sweater is done tonight.
You can probably assess the activity in my life by the activity on my blog, which is to say, when the blog is quiet, the life is zooming off into the far reaches of the galaxy. Well -- not really. It just feels that way.
After the phone call mentioned in my last post, nine days later, my husband hopped a train down to Philadelphia and helped Chris pack up his household -- what they were able to. He ended up leaving a lot of furniture behind, the worst of which was a futon sofa that we all really liked, and which he had used for a bed while living in Lansdale (suburb of Philly). They could have packed it into the truck with no trouble, but to get it into the elevator, they would have had to dismantle it, and lacked the necessary hex keys. Since they only discovered this on Saturday morning, and Chris was due in Vermont the following Monday, they ended up leaving the futon sofa behind, along with his computer desk, an entertainment center, and a large sectional sofa that he had intended to leave behind anyway. The new tenant of the apartment paid him $300 for all of this, items which cost him $1300 originally. Ouch.
He spent the following two weeks in classes to bring him up to speed on how things are run on a big-time freight line, graduated second in his class, came home last Friday for a semi-relaxing weekend -- we spent a good part of the time trying to track down an apartment near his base of operations -- and this morning, at 4:45 (shudder), he left home for the two-hour drive to the new job in Vermont. I told him to call if he got into trouble, so since he hasn't yet called, I guess he got there all right.
The rest of the time has been divided between trying to get my father-in-law's financial affairs regularized -- dealing with privacy laws has been enlightening, to put the best face on it -- and working on a replacement for an Aran sweater I knitted my husband, oh, about 15 or so years ago. That sweater has been gradually disintegrating over the past few years, and it finally dawned on me that I was going to have to knit a replacement. Two problems: (a) I really dislike working on Arans, and (b) it takes away from cross-stitching time. I finally finished the sweater (which was supposed to be his Christmas present) last night, only to find that the sleeves are about an inch too short. If you knit, you know what that means: Snip one thread where the cuff joins the body of the sleeve, unravel it, and knit a whole new cuff. If you notice any particularly blue air, it will be from all the cussing that has swirled forth into the world from this corner of it. If there's one knitting job more tedious than Arans, it's ribbing. Knit 2, purl whatever -- I prefer one -- for however many inches you can stand, or, as knitting guru Elizabeth Zimmermann put it, "To make a turtleneck sweater, cast on the required number of stitches and knit 2, purl 2, until you are sick of it." In my case, that would make a mighty short turtleneck. I hope to heaven this dratted sweater is done tonight.
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Glory to God for all things
A telephone call today, while I was out for a walk. Our son Christopher left a message: He's got a new job.
:D
This particular job is in White River Junction, Vermont, which is about two hours northwest of where we live. It's the Real Deal -- not a tiny little short-line railroad, but a large corporation, RailAmerica, which owns and operates New England Central, a line that runs from the Canadian border to New London, CT. It's also one step up from his current place of employment: top speed on New Hope and Ivyland's track is 15 mph, and on the New England Central, it's 40 mph. So Chris will have good opportunity to learn and grow on this job.
I hasten to add that he did enjoy his job at New Hope very much, except for one thing: It's There, and all his friends and family are Here. When he was home for Thanksgiving, he was so bitterly homesick that it broke my heart to listen to him; but that was the visit that decided him to look for work closer to home. When he came home for Christmas, he had a job interview with New England Central on December 21. He's been on pins and needles ever since, though he said that he wouldn't have been especially sorry if the job hadn't come through; he was leaving this in the hands of the Almighty, and so have I been, asking Him to grant Chris a job "closer to Home, as Thou definest Home." (Well, on this earth, anyway -- I'm not quite ready to see my only son go HOME home.)
Yes, I'm happy about it. Not only should we be able to see him at least a little more frequently (depending on his job schedule), but also, this puts the final chapter on the Ruth Catastrophe. He can put that behind him once and for all, and move on. He still says he's not up for any more romance (and after his last experience, I can hardly blame him), but I am of the firm conviction that God created a woman for every man, and a man for every woman, so she's out there somewhere. (Monastics aren't really an exception, except that the men and women created for each other have chosen to give their lives completely to God.) The other half of my prayer is that God will bring them together, and that they will have the sense to realize it and do something about it.
I'm sure I'm not making too much sense. I'm too happy to make sense at all. CHRIS IS COMING HOME!!!!
:D
This particular job is in White River Junction, Vermont, which is about two hours northwest of where we live. It's the Real Deal -- not a tiny little short-line railroad, but a large corporation, RailAmerica, which owns and operates New England Central, a line that runs from the Canadian border to New London, CT. It's also one step up from his current place of employment: top speed on New Hope and Ivyland's track is 15 mph, and on the New England Central, it's 40 mph. So Chris will have good opportunity to learn and grow on this job.
I hasten to add that he did enjoy his job at New Hope very much, except for one thing: It's There, and all his friends and family are Here. When he was home for Thanksgiving, he was so bitterly homesick that it broke my heart to listen to him; but that was the visit that decided him to look for work closer to home. When he came home for Christmas, he had a job interview with New England Central on December 21. He's been on pins and needles ever since, though he said that he wouldn't have been especially sorry if the job hadn't come through; he was leaving this in the hands of the Almighty, and so have I been, asking Him to grant Chris a job "closer to Home, as Thou definest Home." (Well, on this earth, anyway -- I'm not quite ready to see my only son go HOME home.)
Yes, I'm happy about it. Not only should we be able to see him at least a little more frequently (depending on his job schedule), but also, this puts the final chapter on the Ruth Catastrophe. He can put that behind him once and for all, and move on. He still says he's not up for any more romance (and after his last experience, I can hardly blame him), but I am of the firm conviction that God created a woman for every man, and a man for every woman, so she's out there somewhere. (Monastics aren't really an exception, except that the men and women created for each other have chosen to give their lives completely to God.) The other half of my prayer is that God will bring them together, and that they will have the sense to realize it and do something about it.
I'm sure I'm not making too much sense. I'm too happy to make sense at all. CHRIS IS COMING HOME!!!!
Peculiar Me
The first meme (here, anyway) of 2007. I got tagged by Philippa. Six things peculiar to me (I love Philippa's comment, "ONLY six?!" It's so apropos).
1) I really am not awfully fond of children, in general. Which does nothing to explain the fact that if I'd have my druthers, I'd have had at least six of my own. There's something about one's own offspring, who are altogether wonderful, sterling, and generally God's Gift to the Universe -- but Other People's Children aren't. Go figure.
2) I love watching Law and Order reruns. (Something Philippa and I have in common.) Also JAG reruns, and I'm not-quite-but-almost addicted to the JAG spin-off, NCIS. My favorite NCIS character is the Goth lab tekkie, Abby -- what's weird about that is that I am about as straight-up button-down as they come!
3) I love to sing Matins and Vespers. Ever since I had those music courses at Holy Trinity Monastery in Jordanville, I've been impossibly in love with singing Matins and Vespers. Mind you, I could never do this if I still had real people at home.
4) I am a certifiable Wool Snob. Wool Snobs are people who will knit with nothing else. Being a Wool Snob, I also love the critters who produce wool, namely, sheep. I'm told by local shepherds that sheep have an undeserved reputation for being stupid. They are not stupid, say the shepherds, just very, very wacky. Hmmm, I see a definite connection between me and them.
5) I always hang my laundry out of doors to dry, unless it's freezing cold. Then I hang it up indoors, on racks, to add moisture to the house. Even sheets. The worst, for me, is when it rains two weeks straight in the summer and I have to take it to the laundromat to dry it. Yecch.
6) I hate travel. Even train travel, and if I absolutely have to travel, the train is the only way to do it, in my not-so-humble opinion. But in general, I hate packing, I hate leaving my snug little haven, I hate going out into the wide world and living out of a suitcase for however long, and I even hate coming home again, because that means I've been away from home. Even going to the monastery in Jordanville, although once I'm there, it's the only place I really love besides home and my parish church. But I really dislike getting there and back, probably because we drive and I don't trust other drivers.
Whom to tag?? Philippa has already tagged Mimi, and already did this meme herself. Hmmm... Christa, Alana, and Catherine. Tag! You're it!
1) I really am not awfully fond of children, in general. Which does nothing to explain the fact that if I'd have my druthers, I'd have had at least six of my own. There's something about one's own offspring, who are altogether wonderful, sterling, and generally God's Gift to the Universe -- but Other People's Children aren't. Go figure.
2) I love watching Law and Order reruns. (Something Philippa and I have in common.) Also JAG reruns, and I'm not-quite-but-almost addicted to the JAG spin-off, NCIS. My favorite NCIS character is the Goth lab tekkie, Abby -- what's weird about that is that I am about as straight-up button-down as they come!
3) I love to sing Matins and Vespers. Ever since I had those music courses at Holy Trinity Monastery in Jordanville, I've been impossibly in love with singing Matins and Vespers. Mind you, I could never do this if I still had real people at home.
4) I am a certifiable Wool Snob. Wool Snobs are people who will knit with nothing else. Being a Wool Snob, I also love the critters who produce wool, namely, sheep. I'm told by local shepherds that sheep have an undeserved reputation for being stupid. They are not stupid, say the shepherds, just very, very wacky. Hmmm, I see a definite connection between me and them.
5) I always hang my laundry out of doors to dry, unless it's freezing cold. Then I hang it up indoors, on racks, to add moisture to the house. Even sheets. The worst, for me, is when it rains two weeks straight in the summer and I have to take it to the laundromat to dry it. Yecch.
6) I hate travel. Even train travel, and if I absolutely have to travel, the train is the only way to do it, in my not-so-humble opinion. But in general, I hate packing, I hate leaving my snug little haven, I hate going out into the wide world and living out of a suitcase for however long, and I even hate coming home again, because that means I've been away from home. Even going to the monastery in Jordanville, although once I'm there, it's the only place I really love besides home and my parish church. But I really dislike getting there and back, probably because we drive and I don't trust other drivers.
Whom to tag?? Philippa has already tagged Mimi, and already did this meme herself. Hmmm... Christa, Alana, and Catherine. Tag! You're it!
Thursday, January 04, 2007
2006 in Review
Cribbed from Mimi.
Go to the FIRST BLOG of each month for the past year.Copy-n-paste the LAST SENTENCE of each blog.That is your Year in Review.
January: Some people would just say I should be committed, period. And I'm beginning to agree.
February: At least when I die, I will lose the ability to sin. And that's a relief.
March: [Aunt Clara is] someone I keep in my prayers. She was so much more important to me than she ever knew.
April: It's in the Scottish New Testament, when Mary Magdalene sees the risen Christ and thinks He's the gardener, then realizes Who He is and reaches out for Him, and what does He say? Well, in Scots: "Quit grabbin' at me, woman!"
May: Thanks for listening.
June: So let this sum up all my days:"She lifted up her voice in praise."
July: I plan to take icons fo St. Marina and St. John of San Francisco with me. Meanwhile, prayers would be appreciated.
August: I have a dreadful suspicion that I will be fretting into eternity about great-great-great grandchildren -- or maybe I should just leave that to their great-great grandparents???
September: I think we'll stay put as long as we can. Hopefully, till it's our turn to move in with a kid. :->
October: And once everything is closed up and healed, I will be able to receive Communion again -- how I have missed that.
November: 100. Become a follower of Jesus Christ
December: 22. What do you leave for Santa? We've never done that. As a kid, I'd never heard of it.
Now, a note: This struck me as so uninspiring, as a Year in Review, that I had to keep checking the instructions at the top to make sure I was doing it correctly. Hope others have more success with this one.
Go to the FIRST BLOG of each month for the past year.Copy-n-paste the LAST SENTENCE of each blog.That is your Year in Review.
January: Some people would just say I should be committed, period. And I'm beginning to agree.
February: At least when I die, I will lose the ability to sin. And that's a relief.
March: [Aunt Clara is] someone I keep in my prayers. She was so much more important to me than she ever knew.
April: It's in the Scottish New Testament, when Mary Magdalene sees the risen Christ and thinks He's the gardener, then realizes Who He is and reaches out for Him, and what does He say? Well, in Scots: "Quit grabbin' at me, woman!"
May: Thanks for listening.
June: So let this sum up all my days:"She lifted up her voice in praise."
July: I plan to take icons fo St. Marina and St. John of San Francisco with me. Meanwhile, prayers would be appreciated.
August: I have a dreadful suspicion that I will be fretting into eternity about great-great-great grandchildren -- or maybe I should just leave that to their great-great grandparents???
September: I think we'll stay put as long as we can. Hopefully, till it's our turn to move in with a kid. :->
October: And once everything is closed up and healed, I will be able to receive Communion again -- how I have missed that.
November: 100. Become a follower of Jesus Christ
December: 22. What do you leave for Santa? We've never done that. As a kid, I'd never heard of it.
Now, a note: This struck me as so uninspiring, as a Year in Review, that I had to keep checking the instructions at the top to make sure I was doing it correctly. Hope others have more success with this one.
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
It's Official:
"Grumpy" really is the new baby's nickname. What's worse, it suits him. I did try to defend him, till both his parents said, "Wait till he wakes up and watch him frown." Yeah, he looks like one grumpy old baby. ;-)
In other news, our son was home for Christmas. This is not as radical as if he were living in, say, Iraq, but it was nice for us. We spent last year at his apartment in PA, and it was such a bleak Christmas, compared to this year's, spent in our own home, where he grew up. And spending Christmas in the home where he grew up, he came to a decision: He's definitely going to look for work closer to home.
I should note that we would be happier about his living in PA if he were happy about it, but since his only reason for moving there was to be closer to his girlfriend -- who promptly dumped him -- and the only reason he stayed there was because he found his dream job -- and now he's gone as far as he can on this particular railroad -- well, naturally you want to see your kid happy in life, and at the moment, he isn't. All his friends and his family are here. The job is the only thing he has there. So yes, we would like him to move closer to home so that he has a life outside of work. I will not jinx his chances by commenting on the one prospect he has, but yes, he has a prospect. (Holding my breath waiting for it to come through....)
With one foot in both Orthodox worlds -- Old Calendar and New Calendar -- I had hoped to make it to the most local Old-Calendar parish, 50 miles away, for "Russian Christmas," as we used to call it when I was growing up. Yesterday our daughter informed us that January 7th will probably be "Grumpy's" christening day. The things we give up for our families....
In other news, our son was home for Christmas. This is not as radical as if he were living in, say, Iraq, but it was nice for us. We spent last year at his apartment in PA, and it was such a bleak Christmas, compared to this year's, spent in our own home, where he grew up. And spending Christmas in the home where he grew up, he came to a decision: He's definitely going to look for work closer to home.
I should note that we would be happier about his living in PA if he were happy about it, but since his only reason for moving there was to be closer to his girlfriend -- who promptly dumped him -- and the only reason he stayed there was because he found his dream job -- and now he's gone as far as he can on this particular railroad -- well, naturally you want to see your kid happy in life, and at the moment, he isn't. All his friends and his family are here. The job is the only thing he has there. So yes, we would like him to move closer to home so that he has a life outside of work. I will not jinx his chances by commenting on the one prospect he has, but yes, he has a prospect. (Holding my breath waiting for it to come through....)
With one foot in both Orthodox worlds -- Old Calendar and New Calendar -- I had hoped to make it to the most local Old-Calendar parish, 50 miles away, for "Russian Christmas," as we used to call it when I was growing up. Yesterday our daughter informed us that January 7th will probably be "Grumpy's" christening day. The things we give up for our families....
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
The Year You Turned 18 Music Meme
Cribbed from Mimi's site: Go to popculturemadness.com and select the year you turned 18. Paste the list of the top 75 songs. (I could only find 40.) Bold the ones you liked; strike the ones you disliked; and italicize the ones you know but don’t exactly like or dislike. The ones you don’t know will stay plain text.
1964 Greatest Hits (am I dating myself, or what?!)
1. Twist and Shout - Beatles
2. Under The Boardwalk - The Drifters
3. I Saw Her Standing There - Beatles
4. Dancing In The Street - Martha and the Vandellas
5. You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling - Righteous Brothers
6. I Get Around - Beach Boys
7. I Want To Hold Your Hand - Beatles
8. Where Did Our Love Go - Supremes
9. My Guy - Mary Wells1
10. Chapel Of Love - Dixie Cups
11. L.O.V.E. - Nat "King" Cole
12. (Just Like) Romeo and Juliet - Reflections
13. Fun, Fun, Fun - Beach Boys
14. Dawn (Go Away) - Four Seasons
15. Do Wah Diddy Diddy - Manfred Mann
16. I'm Into Something Good - Herman's Hermits
17. Oh, Pretty Woman - Roy Orbison
18. Baby Love - Supremes
19. Time Is On My Side - Rolling Stones
20. She Loves You - Beatles
21. No Particular Place To Go - Chuck Berry
22. California Sun - Rivieras
23. You Really Got Me - the Kinks
24. The Way You Do The Things You Do - Temptations
25. Come See About Me - the Supremes
26. G.T.O. - Ronny & the Daytonas
27. You Don't Own Me - Leslie Gore
28. Last Kiss - J. Frank Wilson & the Cavaliers
29. Rag Doll - Four Seasons
30. Baby I Need Your Loving - Four Tops
31. Memphis - Johnny Rivers
32. The Girl From Ipanema - Stan Getz & Astrud Gilberto
33. Viva Las Vegas - Elvis Presley
34. Bits and Pieces - Dave Clark Five
35. Harlem Shuffle - Bob & Earl
36. Everybody Loves Somebody - Dean Martin
37. You Never Can Tell - Chuck Berry
38. The House Of The Rising Sun - the Animals
39. All My Loving - the Beatles
40. The Leader Of The Pack - Shangri-las
1964 Greatest Hits (am I dating myself, or what?!)
1. Twist and Shout - Beatles
2. Under The Boardwalk - The Drifters
3. I Saw Her Standing There - Beatles
5. You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling - Righteous Brothers
7. I Want To Hold Your Hand - Beatles
8. Where Did Our Love Go - Supremes
9. My Guy - Mary Wells1
11. L.O.V.E. - Nat "King" Cole
12. (Just Like) Romeo and Juliet - Reflections
13. Fun, Fun, Fun - Beach Boys
14. Dawn (Go Away) - Four Seasons
16. I'm Into Something Good - Herman's Hermits
17. Oh, Pretty Woman - Roy Orbison
18. Baby Love - Supremes
19. Time Is On My Side - Rolling Stones
20. She Loves You - Beatles
21. No Particular Place To Go - Chuck Berry
22. California Sun - Rivieras
23. You Really Got Me - the Kinks
24. The Way You Do The Things You Do - Temptations
25. Come See About Me - the Supremes
26. G.T.O. - Ronny & the Daytonas
27. You Don't Own Me - Leslie Gore
28. Last Kiss - J. Frank Wilson & the Cavaliers
29. Rag Doll - Four Seasons
30. Baby I Need Your Loving - Four Tops
31. Memphis - Johnny Rivers
32. The Girl From Ipanema - Stan Getz & Astrud Gilberto
33. Viva Las Vegas - Elvis Presley
34. Bits and Pieces - Dave Clark Five
35. Harlem Shuffle - Bob & Earl
36. Everybody Loves Somebody - Dean Martin
37. You Never Can Tell - Chuck Berry
38. The House Of The Rising Sun - the Animals
39. All My Loving - the Beatles
40. The Leader Of The Pack - Shangri-las
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Knit Two, Purl -- Well, One, Actually
While ds was home for Thanksgiving, we asked him for his Christmas list. Now, this is the same kid whose dearest wish, at age two, was "butter bears" -- a particular kind of cookie, and that was all he wanted for Christmas! He's always been that kind of minimalist. And this year is no exception. What he wants, more than anything, is a pair of hand-knit socks.
It has been years since I made socks. I haven't forgotten how, but the thing about socks is, once you make one, you have to make another one. Two isn't optional. So sock-knitting gets really old, really fast, and I've been buying socks for at least 15 years. (I do buy good-quality socks.) But what mom can resist the heartfelt plea of her offspring, especially one whose usual Christmas list consists of, "I have everything I want"? I got out the needles, and went shopping for Ragg wool, a particularly thick and warm wool that makes wonderful socks.
Obviously, I had left it too late in the season, and all that was left was a sock wool, dress-weight, made of half wool and half -- are you ready for this? -- bamboo. How do you make yarn out of a tree?!?!?! And I cast on 84 stitches, having measured the circumference of the leg in question (12") and the length from heel to the ball of the foot (8" -- the ball of the foot is where you start the toe decrease).
One of the really real down sides of hand-knit socks, and Ragg socks in particular, is that you have to rib the whole dratted leg. With dress socks, you can liven it up a bit, and I have three books of the most wonderful German socks with clocks and cables and little windowpane-style decorations to make the heart beat faster (and the work more interesting); but Ragg socks are work socks, and made with marled wool, so there's only one option: ribbing. Ribbing does have the advantage of elasticizing the garment, particularly desirable in socks, but the question is, what kind of ribbing is most elastic?
Elizabeth Zimmermann, the late knitting guru, thought that the ultimate in elasticity was knit 2, purl 2. Her daughter, Meg Swansen, maintained that knit 1 purl 1 was more elastic, and that was also my experience, till I once had to cast on an odd number of stitches and found that the only way to rib it effectively was -- knit 2, purl 1. Now, that is elastic. The single purl stitch pulls the two knitted stitches in so tightly that you wouldn't know there was a stitch in between them, yet the garment itself is not tight; it has a wonderful give. These days, I do all my ribbing in knit 2, purl 1; the other thing I like about it is its trinitarian aspect. When even your clothes have the Trinity as their foundation, the rest of you is more inclined that way, too.
So! 84 stitches, cast onto four double-pointed needles of 21 stitches each, ribbed in knit 2, purl 1. (You knit with a fifth needle -- this is German-style knitting, and that fifth needle gives you a truly circular shape, as opposed to the English/American knitting off a triangle of three needles with a fourth.) I spent an entire week trying to make that dratted bamboo yarn work, before putting it down and telling myself, "I'll get to it Eventually." My jaw would clench every time I picked it up to knit.
Chris telephoned last night, and I had to tell him that he probably wasn't going to get his socks in time for Christmas. The disappointment in his voice was so painful that after I hung up, I decided I had to try again. Then it dawned on me: The whole trouble was that bamboo yarn. I don't know why, but it just doesn't feel right in my fingers. So I ripped out the whole inch I'd succeeded in gritting my way through, scavenged in my wool box for some other sock yarn, and had my second brain wave: Put the two together. Came back out, combined the stupid bamboo yarn with some honest sheep's-wool yarn, and cast the 84 stitches back on.
I already have an inch and a half. He probably still won't get his socks in time for Christmas, but at that rate, there's at least a possibility he'll take them home with him when he goes back again after spending his Christmas break at home. Feels good!
It has been years since I made socks. I haven't forgotten how, but the thing about socks is, once you make one, you have to make another one. Two isn't optional. So sock-knitting gets really old, really fast, and I've been buying socks for at least 15 years. (I do buy good-quality socks.) But what mom can resist the heartfelt plea of her offspring, especially one whose usual Christmas list consists of, "I have everything I want"? I got out the needles, and went shopping for Ragg wool, a particularly thick and warm wool that makes wonderful socks.
Obviously, I had left it too late in the season, and all that was left was a sock wool, dress-weight, made of half wool and half -- are you ready for this? -- bamboo. How do you make yarn out of a tree?!?!?! And I cast on 84 stitches, having measured the circumference of the leg in question (12") and the length from heel to the ball of the foot (8" -- the ball of the foot is where you start the toe decrease).
One of the really real down sides of hand-knit socks, and Ragg socks in particular, is that you have to rib the whole dratted leg. With dress socks, you can liven it up a bit, and I have three books of the most wonderful German socks with clocks and cables and little windowpane-style decorations to make the heart beat faster (and the work more interesting); but Ragg socks are work socks, and made with marled wool, so there's only one option: ribbing. Ribbing does have the advantage of elasticizing the garment, particularly desirable in socks, but the question is, what kind of ribbing is most elastic?
Elizabeth Zimmermann, the late knitting guru, thought that the ultimate in elasticity was knit 2, purl 2. Her daughter, Meg Swansen, maintained that knit 1 purl 1 was more elastic, and that was also my experience, till I once had to cast on an odd number of stitches and found that the only way to rib it effectively was -- knit 2, purl 1. Now, that is elastic. The single purl stitch pulls the two knitted stitches in so tightly that you wouldn't know there was a stitch in between them, yet the garment itself is not tight; it has a wonderful give. These days, I do all my ribbing in knit 2, purl 1; the other thing I like about it is its trinitarian aspect. When even your clothes have the Trinity as their foundation, the rest of you is more inclined that way, too.
So! 84 stitches, cast onto four double-pointed needles of 21 stitches each, ribbed in knit 2, purl 1. (You knit with a fifth needle -- this is German-style knitting, and that fifth needle gives you a truly circular shape, as opposed to the English/American knitting off a triangle of three needles with a fourth.) I spent an entire week trying to make that dratted bamboo yarn work, before putting it down and telling myself, "I'll get to it Eventually." My jaw would clench every time I picked it up to knit.
Chris telephoned last night, and I had to tell him that he probably wasn't going to get his socks in time for Christmas. The disappointment in his voice was so painful that after I hung up, I decided I had to try again. Then it dawned on me: The whole trouble was that bamboo yarn. I don't know why, but it just doesn't feel right in my fingers. So I ripped out the whole inch I'd succeeded in gritting my way through, scavenged in my wool box for some other sock yarn, and had my second brain wave: Put the two together. Came back out, combined the stupid bamboo yarn with some honest sheep's-wool yarn, and cast the 84 stitches back on.
I already have an inch and a half. He probably still won't get his socks in time for Christmas, but at that rate, there's at least a possibility he'll take them home with him when he goes back again after spending his Christmas break at home. Feels good!
Monday, December 11, 2006
Christmas Meme
Cribbed from Mimi's blog:
1. Egg nog or hot chocolate? It'd be eggnog, if we weren't fasting and all the store eggnog (which is pasteurized) is gone by Christmas Day.
2. Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree? Oh, they get wrapped, of course!
3. Colored lights on tree/house or white? We've had both. Currently it's colored lights. The first time I saw white lights was in Germany in 1968, and I thought they were so boring. Now I really like them.
4. Do you hang mistletoe? No.
5. When do you put your decorations up? The day before St. Nicholas, December 5 -- that way, he knows ours is a Christmas house and he can visit it. ;-) We leave them up till "Russian Christmas," as we used to call January 7 in New York.
6. What is your favorite holiday dish (excluding dessert)? Babka. You can have it both Christmas and Easter.
7. Favorite holiday memory as a child: Probably the year I turned 15, my first ever Midnight Mass, and my first ever glass of wine. I was sitting on the sofa admiring the Christmas tree through a mildly alcoholic haze when my mother gasped and said, "Oh, I forgot all about your birthday!" And I said, "Oh! Yeah! I did too!" (It's December 24.)
8. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa? My mother told me on my 7th birthday. She said she was afraid I'd hear about it at school.
9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve? Didn't used to as a kid, but now we do.
10. How do you decorate your Christmas tree? With a variety of Christmas ornaments, colored lights, and "garlic" (garland). I like the white garland best, because if you get just the right kind, it really looks like snow.
11. Snow! Love it or dread it? Both, actually. I love the way it looks on the trees, especially the wet, "floompy" snow. But I hate shovelling it!
12. Can you ice skate? No, and I wish I could!
13. Do you remember your favorite gift? Probably my piano. It's as old as my son.
14. What's the most important thing about the holidays for you? The birth of our Lord, of course.
15. What is your favorite holiday dessert? German stollen! Buttery, nutty, smothered in powdered sugar -- sheer heaven.
16. What is your favorite holiday tradition? My stepfather is Polish, and on Christmas Eve, we all break a piece of oplatki, a thin wafer like a Catholic Communion wafer. Each person gets a piece, and then you share it with everyone around the table and wish each other a blessed Christmas. You never eat your own oplatek, but it's supposed to be gone by the time you leave the house.
17. What tops your tree? An angel, who invariable lurches to one side or the other. We've decided she's on a permanent bender.
18. Which do you prefer, giving or receiving? Giving, actually. I can never wait to see people's faces as they open their gifts.
19. What is your favorite Christmas song? Nothing that anyone would recognize who wasn't Orthodox! It's "Today the Virgin gives birth in a cave." There's something about "He Whom the heavens cannot contain is contained in a womb" that blows my mind every year. But if I have to give a more commonly known Christmas carol, it'd be "Carol of the Bells," hands down.
20. Candy canes: We never have them, but I like the idea of them.
21. Favorite Christmas movie? "It's a Wonderful Life" and "A Christmas Carol" -- Alastair Sim version only -- are tied for first place.
22. What do you leave for Santa? We've never done that. As a kid, I'd never heard of it.
1. Egg nog or hot chocolate? It'd be eggnog, if we weren't fasting and all the store eggnog (which is pasteurized) is gone by Christmas Day.
2. Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree? Oh, they get wrapped, of course!
3. Colored lights on tree/house or white? We've had both. Currently it's colored lights. The first time I saw white lights was in Germany in 1968, and I thought they were so boring. Now I really like them.
4. Do you hang mistletoe? No.
5. When do you put your decorations up? The day before St. Nicholas, December 5 -- that way, he knows ours is a Christmas house and he can visit it. ;-) We leave them up till "Russian Christmas," as we used to call January 7 in New York.
6. What is your favorite holiday dish (excluding dessert)? Babka. You can have it both Christmas and Easter.
7. Favorite holiday memory as a child: Probably the year I turned 15, my first ever Midnight Mass, and my first ever glass of wine. I was sitting on the sofa admiring the Christmas tree through a mildly alcoholic haze when my mother gasped and said, "Oh, I forgot all about your birthday!" And I said, "Oh! Yeah! I did too!" (It's December 24.)
8. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa? My mother told me on my 7th birthday. She said she was afraid I'd hear about it at school.
9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve? Didn't used to as a kid, but now we do.
10. How do you decorate your Christmas tree? With a variety of Christmas ornaments, colored lights, and "garlic" (garland). I like the white garland best, because if you get just the right kind, it really looks like snow.
11. Snow! Love it or dread it? Both, actually. I love the way it looks on the trees, especially the wet, "floompy" snow. But I hate shovelling it!
12. Can you ice skate? No, and I wish I could!
13. Do you remember your favorite gift? Probably my piano. It's as old as my son.
14. What's the most important thing about the holidays for you? The birth of our Lord, of course.
15. What is your favorite holiday dessert? German stollen! Buttery, nutty, smothered in powdered sugar -- sheer heaven.
16. What is your favorite holiday tradition? My stepfather is Polish, and on Christmas Eve, we all break a piece of oplatki, a thin wafer like a Catholic Communion wafer. Each person gets a piece, and then you share it with everyone around the table and wish each other a blessed Christmas. You never eat your own oplatek, but it's supposed to be gone by the time you leave the house.
17. What tops your tree? An angel, who invariable lurches to one side or the other. We've decided she's on a permanent bender.
18. Which do you prefer, giving or receiving? Giving, actually. I can never wait to see people's faces as they open their gifts.
19. What is your favorite Christmas song? Nothing that anyone would recognize who wasn't Orthodox! It's "Today the Virgin gives birth in a cave." There's something about "He Whom the heavens cannot contain is contained in a womb" that blows my mind every year. But if I have to give a more commonly known Christmas carol, it'd be "Carol of the Bells," hands down.
20. Candy canes: We never have them, but I like the idea of them.
21. Favorite Christmas movie? "It's a Wonderful Life" and "A Christmas Carol" -- Alastair Sim version only -- are tied for first place.
22. What do you leave for Santa? We've never done that. As a kid, I'd never heard of it.
Friday, November 24, 2006
"Grumpy"
I met my new grandson today. He was born on Monday of this week, and one of the many, many things I'm thankful for is that he didn't choose the middle of Thanksgiving dinner to make his entrance. I'm told, by his father, that my daughter went into labor at 1:30 a.m. Monday morning, and gave birth in the back of an ambulance at 2:00 a.m, right outside Westbrook High School, on the way to the hospital in Portland (ME). "So what goes on his birth certificate?" I asked. "Westbrook, or 'the back of Fire and Rescue Ambulance #1'?" (Portland -- the hospital of record.)
He is a pretty placid kid, in that at four days old, he does nothing but sleep and eat. The only time he makes his discomfort known is when they are changing him -- apparently, he hates to be cold, and face it, a wet diaper is pretty cold, till you get a nice dry one on (especially in Maine in November). However, when he is awake, he seems to do a lot of frowning and making little squeaks and grunts that indicate he's trying to decide whether to make a Statement about current conditions.
My daughter blogs about both writing (her profession) and family life. Her oldest son has been dubbed "Hamlet," for reasons of privacy, and also, as she said, because "his tantrums are positively Shakespearean." We've recently been trying to decide on names for Son #2. Banquo? MacDuff? Jaques, from "As You Like It"? Today, the baby's father grinned and said, "I think we should just call him Grumpy." I have a horrible feeling that it will stick.
Welcome to your weird family, Grumpy! ;-)
He is a pretty placid kid, in that at four days old, he does nothing but sleep and eat. The only time he makes his discomfort known is when they are changing him -- apparently, he hates to be cold, and face it, a wet diaper is pretty cold, till you get a nice dry one on (especially in Maine in November). However, when he is awake, he seems to do a lot of frowning and making little squeaks and grunts that indicate he's trying to decide whether to make a Statement about current conditions.
My daughter blogs about both writing (her profession) and family life. Her oldest son has been dubbed "Hamlet," for reasons of privacy, and also, as she said, because "his tantrums are positively Shakespearean." We've recently been trying to decide on names for Son #2. Banquo? MacDuff? Jaques, from "As You Like It"? Today, the baby's father grinned and said, "I think we should just call him Grumpy." I have a horrible feeling that it will stick.
Welcome to your weird family, Grumpy! ;-)
One. Word.
Cribbed from Philippa:
One word, and only one word, so here goes!
Yourself: musical
Your partner: loyal
Your hair: red(dish)
Your Mother: Catholic
Your Father: dead
Your Favorite Item: wool
Your dream last night: none
Your Favorite Drink: cawfy! (That's "coffee" in Brooklynese)
Your Dream Car: Mini
Your Dream Home: cottage
The Room You Are In: office
Your Ex: none
Your fear: heights
Where you Want to be in Ten Years? here
Who you hung out with last night: family :D
What You're Not: organized
Muffins: corn
One of Your Wish List Items: floorstand
Time: whazzat?
The Last Thing You Did: shopped
What You Are Wearing: conservative
Your favorite weather: rain
Your Favorite Book: Horologion
Last thing you ate: muffin
Your Life: full
Your mood: peaceful
Your Best Friends: phenomenal!
What are you thinking about right now: husband
Your car: blue
What are you doing at the moment: blogging
Your summer: yecch!
Relationship status: married
What is on your tv: music
What is the weather like: cold
When is the last time you laughed: yesterday
One word, and only one word, so here goes!
Yourself: musical
Your partner: loyal
Your hair: red(dish)
Your Mother: Catholic
Your Father: dead
Your Favorite Item: wool
Your dream last night: none
Your Favorite Drink: cawfy! (That's "coffee" in Brooklynese)
Your Dream Car: Mini
Your Dream Home: cottage
The Room You Are In: office
Your Ex: none
Your fear: heights
Where you Want to be in Ten Years? here
Who you hung out with last night: family :D
What You're Not: organized
Muffins: corn
One of Your Wish List Items: floorstand
Time: whazzat?
The Last Thing You Did: shopped
What You Are Wearing: conservative
Your favorite weather: rain
Your Favorite Book: Horologion
Last thing you ate: muffin
Your Life: full
Your mood: peaceful
Your Best Friends: phenomenal!
What are you thinking about right now: husband
Your car: blue
What are you doing at the moment: blogging
Your summer: yecch!
Relationship status: married
What is on your tv: music
What is the weather like: cold
When is the last time you laughed: yesterday
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Sundowning
That's what dear old's condition is called.
I went to the rehab center to see him, and on my way to his room stopped at the nurses' station to talk to someone. Yesterday when I was there, one of the nurses had asked me if he had ever seemed "confused" to us while he lived with us, and I said, "Not that I can recall." Today, of course, I said, "We had evidence of that last night." She nodded and said, "Good, I'm glad it wasn't just me," and went on to explain that dear old has had Jekyll-and-Hyde episodes: "One minute he's a very sweet old man, the next he's confused, and a little while later he's downright nasty." Yep!
"Ask him," she said, "if he remembers calling you last night. I bet he doesn't." And sure enough, he didn't! Apparently very old people get this thing called "sundowning," where they get phenomenally confused about everything in life once the sun goes down; and while the sun is up, they are their normal, rational selves. I'd heard of this, but hadn't realized it was kicking in with dear old.
Now I'm glad I kept my patience, and kept my visit with him friendly. Glory to God for granting me that patience, and the visit with the nurse beforehand; but these doctors, who keep insisting that living into your nineties is a good thing....!!!!!
When I got home, I called dh at work and told him the nurse said not to bother visiting his father, because dear old won't remember it. Dh was shocked, to say the least, but yeah, that's consistent with sundowning, too. Oh, and it's exacerbated by alcohol -- the smile on her face when I told her about the phone call, and his "tippling" habits (I wish it were only tippling!) was priceless. I feel bad for dh, but at least we know dear old really isn't playing with a full deck.
I went to the rehab center to see him, and on my way to his room stopped at the nurses' station to talk to someone. Yesterday when I was there, one of the nurses had asked me if he had ever seemed "confused" to us while he lived with us, and I said, "Not that I can recall." Today, of course, I said, "We had evidence of that last night." She nodded and said, "Good, I'm glad it wasn't just me," and went on to explain that dear old has had Jekyll-and-Hyde episodes: "One minute he's a very sweet old man, the next he's confused, and a little while later he's downright nasty." Yep!
"Ask him," she said, "if he remembers calling you last night. I bet he doesn't." And sure enough, he didn't! Apparently very old people get this thing called "sundowning," where they get phenomenally confused about everything in life once the sun goes down; and while the sun is up, they are their normal, rational selves. I'd heard of this, but hadn't realized it was kicking in with dear old.
Now I'm glad I kept my patience, and kept my visit with him friendly. Glory to God for granting me that patience, and the visit with the nurse beforehand; but these doctors, who keep insisting that living into your nineties is a good thing....!!!!!
When I got home, I called dh at work and told him the nurse said not to bother visiting his father, because dear old won't remember it. Dh was shocked, to say the least, but yeah, that's consistent with sundowning, too. Oh, and it's exacerbated by alcohol -- the smile on her face when I told her about the phone call, and his "tippling" habits (I wish it were only tippling!) was priceless. I feel bad for dh, but at least we know dear old really isn't playing with a full deck.
Brought Up on Charges
At least, that's what Dear Old Dad is threatening to do to dh and me. Why? Because his son didn't visit him last night.
The day after my last post, we went to church. Now, dear old, being 94, doesn't see the need to go to church anymore, since he went for the first 90 years of his life (doesn't seem to have done much good), so he was planning to stay home. Well, since he can't stay home by himself, we got someone in from a local organization to stay with him. He was NOT happy. Didn't see why he couldn't stay by himself. (Possibly because on Saturday evening, he got panicky when dh was working in the cellar and I was working in the office, and he thought we had left him alone???)
So the next day, after we get back from church, dear old decides to take himself for a walk. The conversation went like this: "I WANNA GO FOR A WALK!" "OK, let me get the cars washed and I'll take you." "I WANNA GO BY MYSELF!" "OK, but just stay in the driveway." So dh helps dear old down the steps -- he can't get down steps by himself -- comes back into the house to get a pail of water to wash the cars, and by the time he's back outside, dear old is halfway down the block.
Well, you know the rest. He turned to come back, and on his way back, fell. It was plain he couldn't move his left leg, so we called the EMTs, and they came and assessed him. He about had them convinced it was just sciatica when they asked him if he could stand ono the leg, and he said No; so they took him to the emergency room, where, you guessed it, an x-ray showed he had broken a hip.
He spent all last week in the hospital, and dh worked from home half days so he could concentrate on getting dear old's finances in order, in case we needed to pay for any of his care (also so that we could afford assisted living for him!). The last couple of days, dear old was getting quite cantankerous about being there; he'd had enough, and wanted to come home. Instead, he went to a rehab facility on Sunday.
We visited him there both Sunday and Monday, but yesterday dh went back to work in Boston, and I went to the rehab facility by myself to see the social worker in charge of dear old's case -- there were a couple of things I thought she should know about his condition, among them the fact that we were considering assisted living once he's out of rehab. When she heard what dh's ghastly hours were, she said he shouldn't bother coming to visit his father on the days when he works in Boston, since dear old has plenty of company and is quite wiped out by his physical therapy. (We could see that!)
So last night, at 9:00 p.m., we're getting ready for bed and the phone rings. It's dear old, threatening to swear out an arrest warrant on us for "abandonment." Let's see, dh gets home at 7:00 p.m., still has to have his dinner and wind down from the day, but is that a good enough reason to just stay home and RELAX?!?!?! Evidently not! I plan to take myself off to the rehab center today, tell one of the nurses, or maybe the social worker, about this latest development, and see if they will support my telling off dear old, in no uncertain terms.
It feels lousy to do such a thing. He's old. He's alone. We're his only family, besides his grandkids. ("And whose fault's that?" whispers my baser self.) But I'm sorry -- when you live with other people, consideration all around is pretty basic, even at 94.
(An amusing aside: At one point, a Catholic priest came to visit dear old in the hospital. He supported dear old's decision not to attend Mass anymore. This past Sunday, meanwhile, my Orthodox priest gave a sermon: "Whether you're 16 or 86 -- or 96 -- you still have to struggle. The spiritual struggle is part of our salvation." Right now, I'm struggling not to wring dear old's neck!)
The day after my last post, we went to church. Now, dear old, being 94, doesn't see the need to go to church anymore, since he went for the first 90 years of his life (doesn't seem to have done much good), so he was planning to stay home. Well, since he can't stay home by himself, we got someone in from a local organization to stay with him. He was NOT happy. Didn't see why he couldn't stay by himself. (Possibly because on Saturday evening, he got panicky when dh was working in the cellar and I was working in the office, and he thought we had left him alone???)
So the next day, after we get back from church, dear old decides to take himself for a walk. The conversation went like this: "I WANNA GO FOR A WALK!" "OK, let me get the cars washed and I'll take you." "I WANNA GO BY MYSELF!" "OK, but just stay in the driveway." So dh helps dear old down the steps -- he can't get down steps by himself -- comes back into the house to get a pail of water to wash the cars, and by the time he's back outside, dear old is halfway down the block.
Well, you know the rest. He turned to come back, and on his way back, fell. It was plain he couldn't move his left leg, so we called the EMTs, and they came and assessed him. He about had them convinced it was just sciatica when they asked him if he could stand ono the leg, and he said No; so they took him to the emergency room, where, you guessed it, an x-ray showed he had broken a hip.
He spent all last week in the hospital, and dh worked from home half days so he could concentrate on getting dear old's finances in order, in case we needed to pay for any of his care (also so that we could afford assisted living for him!). The last couple of days, dear old was getting quite cantankerous about being there; he'd had enough, and wanted to come home. Instead, he went to a rehab facility on Sunday.
We visited him there both Sunday and Monday, but yesterday dh went back to work in Boston, and I went to the rehab facility by myself to see the social worker in charge of dear old's case -- there were a couple of things I thought she should know about his condition, among them the fact that we were considering assisted living once he's out of rehab. When she heard what dh's ghastly hours were, she said he shouldn't bother coming to visit his father on the days when he works in Boston, since dear old has plenty of company and is quite wiped out by his physical therapy. (We could see that!)
So last night, at 9:00 p.m., we're getting ready for bed and the phone rings. It's dear old, threatening to swear out an arrest warrant on us for "abandonment." Let's see, dh gets home at 7:00 p.m., still has to have his dinner and wind down from the day, but is that a good enough reason to just stay home and RELAX?!?!?! Evidently not! I plan to take myself off to the rehab center today, tell one of the nurses, or maybe the social worker, about this latest development, and see if they will support my telling off dear old, in no uncertain terms.
It feels lousy to do such a thing. He's old. He's alone. We're his only family, besides his grandkids. ("And whose fault's that?" whispers my baser self.) But I'm sorry -- when you live with other people, consideration all around is pretty basic, even at 94.
(An amusing aside: At one point, a Catholic priest came to visit dear old in the hospital. He supported dear old's decision not to attend Mass anymore. This past Sunday, meanwhile, my Orthodox priest gave a sermon: "Whether you're 16 or 86 -- or 96 -- you still have to struggle. The spiritual struggle is part of our salvation." Right now, I'm struggling not to wring dear old's neck!)
Saturday, November 04, 2006
When I'm 94
The Beatles had a great tune called, "When I'm 64," to which I can't remember all the lyrics, mostly because the year it came out, I was occupied with wedding preparations, and 64 seemed like the back side of the moon. Now that it's imminent, well....
Dear old Dad has been with us for two weeks now, and this morning was about typical: DH is making coffee and we're chatting quietly when suddenly we hear a roar: "I NEED A SHOWER!" This is supposed to be the signal for DH to drop everything and going rushing in to help his father, not the easiest thing in the world when you are making brewed coffee and in the middle of counting out the appropriate number of scoops. "JUST A MINUTE," yells back DH. (We have to yell because dear old is deaf, and won't wear a hearing aid.) "HELP ME WITH THE SHOWER!" "IN A MINUTE!" Coffee counted out, DH runs to the bathroom to help dear old into the shower, explain to him -- yet again -- how to turn on the hot and cold water, and where the grab bar is.
Then breakfast. He shuffles out, clean and spruce, sits down, and starts worrying about mail that came for him yesterday. Now, at the same time, he also wants his juice, his oatmeal, his bread and peanut butter, and his coffee, in that order -- but he wants us to see to his bills, too. Right now. The Boss (me) steps in: "JIM IS MAKING BREAKFAST. WE WILL WORRY ABOUT BILLS AFTER BREAKFAST." "OK," he mutters, and subsides.
We are hoping to take him with us later today while we shop for a new sofa. My brother has offered to take our old sofa for his son, newly graduated from college and in need of "real" furniture, and we had decided, while I was convalescing, to get a new sofa; dear old's arrival put a crimp in those plans, but since my brother is coming to collect our sofa on Thursday or Friday, we kind of need something to put in its place. So shopping with dear old in tow is something of a necessity, since we both need to be comfortable with this thing.
We are also hoping to hold off putting dear old into assisted living till sometime after Christmas. It doesn't seem fair to move him up here and toss him into a home just before the holidays. But if we ever doubted it before, today's episode has made it crystal clear that he really needs assisted living; I don't have the physical strength to deal with his frailties, and DH can't be home all the time.
And meanwhile, we are hoping that we can survive dear old's arrival into our household. He really is as demanding as a three-year-old, and as needy as a three-year-old, but without the resources to entertain himself for any length of time. Yesterday he was complaining to DH that he needs to get out more often. (He was upset that I wouldn't take him grocery shopping with me.) But when they went for a walk, 2/10 of a mile down to the post office, DH found that he had to hold the old man up on the way back. I can picture me struggling with groceries, a cart, and holding up at 94-year-old grown man who's taller than me.
Anyway, assuming we survive this Presence in our household -- not all caregivers do -- we have also begun to take steps towards getting long-term care insurance. I hope never to need it; but if I do, I don't want to do this to my children. Neither, bless him, does DH.
Dear old Dad has been with us for two weeks now, and this morning was about typical: DH is making coffee and we're chatting quietly when suddenly we hear a roar: "I NEED A SHOWER!" This is supposed to be the signal for DH to drop everything and going rushing in to help his father, not the easiest thing in the world when you are making brewed coffee and in the middle of counting out the appropriate number of scoops. "JUST A MINUTE," yells back DH. (We have to yell because dear old is deaf, and won't wear a hearing aid.) "HELP ME WITH THE SHOWER!" "IN A MINUTE!" Coffee counted out, DH runs to the bathroom to help dear old into the shower, explain to him -- yet again -- how to turn on the hot and cold water, and where the grab bar is.
Then breakfast. He shuffles out, clean and spruce, sits down, and starts worrying about mail that came for him yesterday. Now, at the same time, he also wants his juice, his oatmeal, his bread and peanut butter, and his coffee, in that order -- but he wants us to see to his bills, too. Right now. The Boss (me) steps in: "JIM IS MAKING BREAKFAST. WE WILL WORRY ABOUT BILLS AFTER BREAKFAST." "OK," he mutters, and subsides.
We are hoping to take him with us later today while we shop for a new sofa. My brother has offered to take our old sofa for his son, newly graduated from college and in need of "real" furniture, and we had decided, while I was convalescing, to get a new sofa; dear old's arrival put a crimp in those plans, but since my brother is coming to collect our sofa on Thursday or Friday, we kind of need something to put in its place. So shopping with dear old in tow is something of a necessity, since we both need to be comfortable with this thing.
We are also hoping to hold off putting dear old into assisted living till sometime after Christmas. It doesn't seem fair to move him up here and toss him into a home just before the holidays. But if we ever doubted it before, today's episode has made it crystal clear that he really needs assisted living; I don't have the physical strength to deal with his frailties, and DH can't be home all the time.
And meanwhile, we are hoping that we can survive dear old's arrival into our household. He really is as demanding as a three-year-old, and as needy as a three-year-old, but without the resources to entertain himself for any length of time. Yesterday he was complaining to DH that he needs to get out more often. (He was upset that I wouldn't take him grocery shopping with me.) But when they went for a walk, 2/10 of a mile down to the post office, DH found that he had to hold the old man up on the way back. I can picture me struggling with groceries, a cart, and holding up at 94-year-old grown man who's taller than me.
Anyway, assuming we survive this Presence in our household -- not all caregivers do -- we have also begun to take steps towards getting long-term care insurance. I hope never to need it; but if I do, I don't want to do this to my children. Neither, bless him, does DH.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Things I've Done...
...are in bold face type. Swiped this from Philippa. I hate swiping stuff, but when it's this good, how can I resist?
What have you done? Or not, as the case may be?
01. Bought everyone in the bar a drink
02. Swam with wild dolphins
03. Climbed a mountain (if you count the gondola car to the top of the Zugspitze....)
04. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive
05. Been inside the Great Pyramid
06. Held a tarantula.
07. Taken a candlelit bath with someone
08. Said “I love you’ and meant it!
09. Hugged a tree
10. Bungee jumped
11. Visited Paris
12. Watched a lightning storm at sea
13. Stayed up all night long and saw the sun rise
14. Seen the Northern Lights
15. Gone to a huge sports game
16. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa
17. Grown and eaten your own vegetables
18. Touched an iceberg
19. Slept under the stars
20. Changed a baby’s nappy
21. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon
22. Watched a meteor shower
23. Drunk champagne
24. Given more than you can afford to charity
25. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope
26. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment
27. Had a food fight
28. Bet on a winning horse.
29. Asked out a stranger
30. Had a snowball fight
31. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can
32. Held a lamb
33. Seen a total eclipse
34. Ridden a roller coaster
35. Scored a winning goal
36. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking
37. Adopted an accent for an entire day
38. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment
39. Visited all 5 continents
40. Taken care of someone who was drunk
41. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country
42. Watched wild whales
43. Stolen a sign
44. Backpacked 4
5. Taken a road-trip
46. Gone rock climbing
48. Midnight walk on the beach
49. Gone sky diving
50. Taken a train through Europe
51. Been heartbroken longer than you were actually in love
52. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger’s table, and had a meal with them
53. Milked a cow
54. Alphabetized your CDs
55. Sung karaoke
56. Lounged around in bed all day
57. Gone scuba diving
58. Kissed in the rain
59. Gone to a drive-in theatre
60. Started a business
61. Taken a martial arts class
62. Been in a movie (not to my knowledge, but having worked in NYC, it's possible I was in one a hundred years ago without knowing it....)
63. Crashed a party
64. Gone without food for 5 days
65. Gotten a tattoo
66. Got flowers for no reason
67. Performed on stage
68. Been to Las Vegas
69. Recorded music
70. Eaten shark
71. Buried one/both of your parents.
72. Been on a cruise ship
73. Spoken more than one language fluently
74. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over
75. Walked a famous bridge
76. Had plastic surgery
77. Survived an accident that you shouldn’t have survived
78. Wrote articles for a large publication.
77. Tried to lose weight seriously
79. Piloted an airplane
80. Petted a stingray.
81. Broken someone’s heart
82. Broken a bone
83. Eaten sushi
84. Had your picture in the newspaper
85. Parasailed
86. Skipped all your school reunions (not, I hasten to add, by choice -- they all took place around family events)
87. Shaved your head
88. Caused a car accident
89. Pretended to be “sick” (who's pretending? I call it "sick and tired leave")
90. Swam in the Pacific Ocean
91. Saved someone’s life.
92. Fainted
93. Been in the room while someone is giving birth
94. Hitchhiked
95. Adopted a child
96. Been caught daydreaming
97. Been to the Painted Desert
98. Called off a wedding engagement
99. Donated your blood
100. Become a follower of Jesus Christ
What have you done? Or not, as the case may be?
01. Bought everyone in the bar a drink
02. Swam with wild dolphins
03. Climbed a mountain (if you count the gondola car to the top of the Zugspitze....)
04. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive
05. Been inside the Great Pyramid
06. Held a tarantula.
07. Taken a candlelit bath with someone
08. Said “I love you’ and meant it!
09. Hugged a tree
10. Bungee jumped
11. Visited Paris
12. Watched a lightning storm at sea
13. Stayed up all night long and saw the sun rise
14. Seen the Northern Lights
15. Gone to a huge sports game
16. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa
17. Grown and eaten your own vegetables
18. Touched an iceberg
19. Slept under the stars
20. Changed a baby’s nappy
21. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon
22. Watched a meteor shower
23. Drunk champagne
24. Given more than you can afford to charity
25. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope
26. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment
27. Had a food fight
28. Bet on a winning horse.
29. Asked out a stranger
30. Had a snowball fight
31. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can
32. Held a lamb
33. Seen a total eclipse
34. Ridden a roller coaster
35. Scored a winning goal
36. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking
37. Adopted an accent for an entire day
38. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment
39. Visited all 5 continents
40. Taken care of someone who was drunk
41. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country
42. Watched wild whales
43. Stolen a sign
44. Backpacked 4
5. Taken a road-trip
46. Gone rock climbing
48. Midnight walk on the beach
49. Gone sky diving
50. Taken a train through Europe
51. Been heartbroken longer than you were actually in love
52. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger’s table, and had a meal with them
53. Milked a cow
54. Alphabetized your CDs
55. Sung karaoke
56. Lounged around in bed all day
57. Gone scuba diving
58. Kissed in the rain
59. Gone to a drive-in theatre
60. Started a business
61. Taken a martial arts class
62. Been in a movie (not to my knowledge, but having worked in NYC, it's possible I was in one a hundred years ago without knowing it....)
63. Crashed a party
64. Gone without food for 5 days
65. Gotten a tattoo
66. Got flowers for no reason
67. Performed on stage
68. Been to Las Vegas
69. Recorded music
70. Eaten shark
71. Buried one/both of your parents.
72. Been on a cruise ship
73. Spoken more than one language fluently
74. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over
75. Walked a famous bridge
76. Had plastic surgery
77. Survived an accident that you shouldn’t have survived
78. Wrote articles for a large publication.
77. Tried to lose weight seriously
79. Piloted an airplane
80. Petted a stingray.
81. Broken someone’s heart
82. Broken a bone
83. Eaten sushi
84. Had your picture in the newspaper
85. Parasailed
86. Skipped all your school reunions (not, I hasten to add, by choice -- they all took place around family events)
87. Shaved your head
88. Caused a car accident
89. Pretended to be “sick” (who's pretending? I call it "sick and tired leave")
90. Swam in the Pacific Ocean
91. Saved someone’s life.
92. Fainted
93. Been in the room while someone is giving birth
94. Hitchhiked
95. Adopted a child
96. Been caught daydreaming
97. Been to the Painted Desert
98. Called off a wedding engagement
99. Donated your blood
100. Become a follower of Jesus Christ
Monday, October 23, 2006
Senescence. Oy.
Some time ago, I blogged about the possibility of having my father-in-law moving in with us. Well, it's happened. Last week, he nearly fell while grocery shopping, and he sounded so panicky that my husband -- his only child -- went racing down to NJ on Thursday and brought his dad back on Saturday -- just packed a few clothes, two (!) radios, and two large boxes of oatmeal (at FIL's insistence, of course -- like we didn't know what oatmeal was in the Wilds of NH), and up they came.
People have been trying to make out like we're saints or something for having him here. WE AREN'T. There simply is no other choice. He's 94, blind and deaf, and he shouldn't have been living on his own as long as he has. But it wasn't till June that he consented to move in with us, and of course after that, we had our own difficulties.
It's already looking like we will have to consider assisted living for him, mostly because my husband finds he can't sleep at night -- keeps waiting for his dad to get up out of bed and fall to the floor. Then there is the drinking. Apparently my FIL is accustomed to downing half a pint of scotch every evening. Half a pint, in case you missed this in arithmetic class the way I did, is an entire cup of scotch. Not at one sitting, mind. He has 3 oz. for his first drink, 3 oz. for his second drink, and the remaining 2 oz. as an after-dinner "aperitif," as he describes it. My husband and I just looked at each other, as the pint-size bottle he brought with him got lower and lower. I'm wondering what he will say when he finds that the bottle of scotch he thought came up with him, was never packed.
I hate to ask for yet more prayers, but they would be appreciated.
People have been trying to make out like we're saints or something for having him here. WE AREN'T. There simply is no other choice. He's 94, blind and deaf, and he shouldn't have been living on his own as long as he has. But it wasn't till June that he consented to move in with us, and of course after that, we had our own difficulties.
It's already looking like we will have to consider assisted living for him, mostly because my husband finds he can't sleep at night -- keeps waiting for his dad to get up out of bed and fall to the floor. Then there is the drinking. Apparently my FIL is accustomed to downing half a pint of scotch every evening. Half a pint, in case you missed this in arithmetic class the way I did, is an entire cup of scotch. Not at one sitting, mind. He has 3 oz. for his first drink, 3 oz. for his second drink, and the remaining 2 oz. as an after-dinner "aperitif," as he describes it. My husband and I just looked at each other, as the pint-size bottle he brought with him got lower and lower. I'm wondering what he will say when he finds that the bottle of scotch he thought came up with him, was never packed.
I hate to ask for yet more prayers, but they would be appreciated.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
I'm Done. :D
Today was a "killer" day for appointments -- three on the same day -- but here are the results:
1. Wound Clinic, 8:45 a.m. I am done with this. Discharged. The doctor started to scrape at the scab covering the incision and said, "There's no point my trying to do anything with this. It's healed." Checked the two drain sites and said, "That's skin growing in there." Was it just five weeks ago that we all thought this would take until Christmas?!
2. Infectious Disease doctor, 12:30 p.m. "You look so much better than the first time I saw you. As long as you're not having any fever from the removal of the drains, I don't need to see you again."
3. Coumadin Clinic, 3:00 p.m. (theoretically -- I didn't get in till after 3:30). No change in the dosage, and apparently, the blood clot I got from the PICC line will dissolve itself over a period of about 3-6 months. Once my clotting level stabilizes, these appointments will gradually decrease from weekly to monthly.
Oh, and the best part: I get to take a shower again. If you hear a faint rendition of the Hallelujah Chorus clear the other side of the country, around 6:00 p.m., that'll be me.
I GOT MY LIFE BACK!!!!!
1. Wound Clinic, 8:45 a.m. I am done with this. Discharged. The doctor started to scrape at the scab covering the incision and said, "There's no point my trying to do anything with this. It's healed." Checked the two drain sites and said, "That's skin growing in there." Was it just five weeks ago that we all thought this would take until Christmas?!
2. Infectious Disease doctor, 12:30 p.m. "You look so much better than the first time I saw you. As long as you're not having any fever from the removal of the drains, I don't need to see you again."
3. Coumadin Clinic, 3:00 p.m. (theoretically -- I didn't get in till after 3:30). No change in the dosage, and apparently, the blood clot I got from the PICC line will dissolve itself over a period of about 3-6 months. Once my clotting level stabilizes, these appointments will gradually decrease from weekly to monthly.
Oh, and the best part: I get to take a shower again. If you hear a faint rendition of the Hallelujah Chorus clear the other side of the country, around 6:00 p.m., that'll be me.
I GOT MY LIFE BACK!!!!!
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Ahhhhh.
OK, picture this: You start out with a lengthy tube that is inserted into your abdomen somewhere in the region of your navel. A few weeks later, feeling as if you are at death's door, you find out that you have not one, but two abscesses, one each side of your abdomen, that need to be drained of the fluid in them because it contains a potentially lethal infection, so two more tubes are inserted into these, attached to plastic drainage-collection bags that have to be emptied every four hours or so. Now you have three tubes sticking out of your abdomen.
As of today, all three tubes are gone. The center one was removed about three weeks ago -- or was it only two? Seems to me it was three, but I know I haven't been sleeping in a bed that long -- when the incision became so small that there was nothing left for the wound vac to suck off. That is continuing to shrink, and I will know its status when I return to the wound clinic next Tuesday. The two side tubes came out today.
Relief is spelled "Ahhhhh." I'm trying to imagine what it will be like to lie down to sleep, something I've only been able to do in the past ten days, with no tubes to be careful of. I have yet to conceive of actually being able to take a shower, instead of a sink bath -- that won't happen till all the holes are closed over, and that will be at least another week.
But oh my gosh, THE END IS IN SIGHT. There is light at the end of the tunnel, and it's not an oncoming train. Time for a prolonged happy dance!
As of today, all three tubes are gone. The center one was removed about three weeks ago -- or was it only two? Seems to me it was three, but I know I haven't been sleeping in a bed that long -- when the incision became so small that there was nothing left for the wound vac to suck off. That is continuing to shrink, and I will know its status when I return to the wound clinic next Tuesday. The two side tubes came out today.
Relief is spelled "Ahhhhh." I'm trying to imagine what it will be like to lie down to sleep, something I've only been able to do in the past ten days, with no tubes to be careful of. I have yet to conceive of actually being able to take a shower, instead of a sink bath -- that won't happen till all the holes are closed over, and that will be at least another week.
But oh my gosh, THE END IS IN SIGHT. There is light at the end of the tunnel, and it's not an oncoming train. Time for a prolonged happy dance!
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Well, Shut My Mouth and Call Me -- Something
After a day of doctors’ appointments, I have to share this:
1) The incision that opened up after surgery is finally closing up. I am off the wound vac, and the depth has gone from 4 cm to 0.3 cm! And the length has gone from 8 cm to 5.2 cm (that’s 5” to something like 3”).
2) Also saw the infectious disease control doc this afternoon, who says that I may have to take antibiotics for just one more week, and no more than two – the MRSA I was hospitalized for in September appears to be dead. All my most recent blood work is in the normal range, except for my albumin count (protein) – she says I need more protein. Since I’ve been consuming hardly anything but, that was almost laughable. So I guess I’m not giving up my breakfast eggs any time soon.
I am absolutely floored. Was it three or four weeks ago that the wound-care doctor said healing would take a lot longer than originally projected, and now -- he says it will be completely healed in 2-3 weeks, which is pretty darn close to his original projection. The drains that I have in place to drain off the two abscesses are a little dicier, at least till I have another CAT scan, but the last CAT scan looked pretty good, so I'm hopeful the next one, later this week, will show that both abscesses have collapsed, and that will mean they can take these drains out at last. You have no idea how "interesting" life can be when you have three lengthy tubes coming out of your abdomen....
Now, if I can just start going to church again! I've only been once in the last two months. But I'm hoping to go again this coming Sunday. And once everything is closed up and healed, I will be able to receive Communion again -- how I have missed that.
1) The incision that opened up after surgery is finally closing up. I am off the wound vac, and the depth has gone from 4 cm to 0.3 cm! And the length has gone from 8 cm to 5.2 cm (that’s 5” to something like 3”).
2) Also saw the infectious disease control doc this afternoon, who says that I may have to take antibiotics for just one more week, and no more than two – the MRSA I was hospitalized for in September appears to be dead. All my most recent blood work is in the normal range, except for my albumin count (protein) – she says I need more protein. Since I’ve been consuming hardly anything but, that was almost laughable. So I guess I’m not giving up my breakfast eggs any time soon.
I am absolutely floored. Was it three or four weeks ago that the wound-care doctor said healing would take a lot longer than originally projected, and now -- he says it will be completely healed in 2-3 weeks, which is pretty darn close to his original projection. The drains that I have in place to drain off the two abscesses are a little dicier, at least till I have another CAT scan, but the last CAT scan looked pretty good, so I'm hopeful the next one, later this week, will show that both abscesses have collapsed, and that will mean they can take these drains out at last. You have no idea how "interesting" life can be when you have three lengthy tubes coming out of your abdomen....
Now, if I can just start going to church again! I've only been once in the last two months. But I'm hoping to go again this coming Sunday. And once everything is closed up and healed, I will be able to receive Communion again -- how I have missed that.
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