Not a happy weaver

I kept the appointment with the hip surgeon today. He put my hip through its paces, then sat down with my x-rays and informed me my hip does not need replacing. I have a serious bursitis that can be fixed with a serious injection of cortisone. This injection is done with ultrasound guidance. I took the first appointment, six weeks from now. That is how backed up a national hospital is by Covid

I took the appointment of course, and came home and put in a call to my pain management office, late this afternoon. They do ultrasound guided cortisone injections; I've had one in my thumb, some years ago. Best of all, they are not backed up with Covid patients. And I cannot abide this pain for six more weeks!

The absolute worst part of not being able to stand is not being able to cook decent food. I've had frozen meals for the last two weeks. To not confuse myself, I decided to stick with the same manufacturer for a week. I picked Marie Callendar for this past week. The week before I pulled seven random packages from Kreiger's. Two weeks of trash. Horrid, horrid food. I've lost five or more pounds, which I don't need to do.

My former restaurateur daughter says she will grocery shop with me this weekend, and run her discerning eye over the offering; we can do better! To be continued...

Not much to say

I'm here, and unpacked. I've found the pie bird and the night light. Who could ask for anything more?  I could... Three weeks since the one block move occurred.

Unpacking was not as straightforward as packing. I moved into two rooms, not three. Many boxes labelled Kitchen are now on the shelving in the laundry room, labelled Laura. More should meet the same fate, but not now.

In the beginning I unpacked for an hour and took an hour nap. It worked well, until I got the courage to work for two hours, then three or four, and move around some furniture, and some other occupations of moving. 

Somehow, I've hurt myself, enough to warrant a trip to the ER, then to a new primary care physician, and now a referral to a hip specialist, with notation of hip replacement. The only good news that I have to infuse (to quote an Irish anti-English song) is that I called the department, read the strange words and numbers off the referral slip and heard the scheduler say "We must get you in within two days." And so they did. Tomorrow I meet a specialist to begin the discussion.

This hip problem has been ongoing, cumulative. I did not move anything too big, shift anything too heavy. It's the result of doing anything at all. The good news is, my friends who had hip replacements recently were sent home the same day, though in a good amount of pain. But that's ahead of myself; I may get off with a nice big shot of cortisone!

More good news: Laura turned on 125 turns of warp a couple of weeks ago and I sat and tied it and pulled through the warp. Then I quit for a time, until I met the new primary care and was given a script for a heavy duty ibuprophen and the referral. I should not be taking the ibuprophen, so it's to the new ortho fellow to get me past it very soon.

I am weaving about an hour a day. Right now it's a lavender, and quite nice. 

And now there's a nap coming on. I'll report back soon with all the news fit to print.

Momentum!

Moving house is exhausting work! Making it what I think will work, even more tiring. Picking up where I believe I left off, Beth and I went to Syracuse and back yesterday, to retrieve the enamel topped table. 

Sadly, it is being fumigated in the barn because K is very allergic to mold, and the table legs of wood had some. It is being treated with ozone and dangerous things, and we'll have a table in a bit.

Beth and I had a great time, as mothers and daughters can do. We took K's truck, which needs its air conditioning repaired. In the morning it was not a problem. By afternoon, it was. Just like Beth's childhood, and mine.

There was no toll road pass associated with the truck, either, so it was my opportunity to contact Illinois, who hold my pass, straighten out its hijacking a while back, put some money back on it, and also K's truck plate.

Every time we approached a toll reader, Beth, who was driving, held the transponder up to the appropriate place on the windshield until we were through. When we traded seats, I tried to hold the little thing to its place in the window, and no longer have the reach.

A search in the glove box for anything suitable produced a roll of packing tape, with which I am all too familiar of late. That problem solved!

We arrived at the table location. I was reading the GPS, and Beth said, "Oh, that place with the table in the driveway!"

Beth in the red shirt, Nancy in center and her newly high school graduate son left. Nancy is a dentist for thirty eight years, and the table started out with the family back in the thirties, at great aunt Martha's.

As we dove away, I felt like a kid, bending over and looking between my legs. The crew had packed it like a jigsaw puzzle and it arrived home as well as it left the old.

We stopped for lunch at the Elm Street Café, in Tully, New York. Those tomatoes are from some local garden, as is the lettuce. Beth ate every one of those onion rings, after she sent the picture to France, at school in Colorado!

And back home, I'm getting more and more organized. My back remains very, very sore, but a tad better daily. I finished tying on the warp today, and will take up weaving one day next week, but not before a flu shot and lunches with old friends.

Getting organized

A week ago Wednesday, all the boxes and furniture came through the door. The three fellows moving me were ahead with a first load, and were shoulder to shoulder, facing me and blocking the door when I came up. Welcome Home, Joanne they said in unison, then went on about their business.

Kamaria made this sign to greet me. Still sorta raises tears. But down to the nuts and bolts. Or other house mates. This is Kai.

A week plus later, and all the boxes are empty and much is put somewhere. I'm well into the point of recognizing mistakes in organizing that will be rectified soon.

The problem with changing things is that change has become painful. Truly painful. My ribs are the smallest fraction of the new pain. Laura and I struggled manfully over the weekend to shift my living room chair to its new home. It was about the same as moving the loom, except we did not remove doors. The chair remains blocking a small space. Laura is back in school and I am in too much pain to try it myself. So, here's a tour.

Before she left Sunday, Laura put a new warp on the loom.

That the warp is on a ready to be tied comforts me. There is my towel inventory! I had to cancel the last two shows for want of inventory. On a happy note, Beth and I are going to pick up the new table this Saturday, the date of the last Flea show this season.

I am tackling tying on one bout at a time. Two tied, nine to go. That is my heating pad, there on the table.

The tables are a small error to be corrected. The larger table with two sewing machines needs interchanged with the longer table of "stuff". The book case in the front left needs to be in another place!  I hope Laura is here this weekend!

Remember my lovely 6x8' bathroom! Still here, and so are the purple towels!

And finally, for now, my nook. Look what fits! My stone lamp, the Fat Man, and my tens unit, charging at the end of the white cord. I finally fell for a tens unit, which arrived yesterday. I've used it three times, so far. After all these years of avoiding one for not knowing how it worked, I see I was a woos. Having none of the electrical implant contraindications, there really is no reason not to paste one on for a go.

I find the tens unit to be exactly like my dentists' heated massage chair, sans the heat, and with a very short battery life. Has anyone else tried a tens unit? Have one implanted?

Going dark for a couple of days

I truly do not know when I'll show up again. I have little faith in "wireless", and it won't be up to me to fire it up, either, so I'll just unpack boxes and take naps.

John and Mike moved the loom last night. Thank goodness they both understood reconstructing things the same way they deconstructed. Every door encountered had to be removed. More and more of the loom had to be removed. 

I tried very hard to keep the warp beam intact, but when all four cross members of the legs were gone, it tumbled to the floor. Oops! That finally did the trick, and the brake assembly was far easier to reassemble than I could believe. I vaguely remember my sister and I encountering that brake for the first time and wondering what  LeClerc had been thinking all these years.

It was a long evening, and the only picture I took was the floor of lint. I will have Kamaria set up the air filter before I turn the first warp.

When I was home again, I took a shower and fell into bed. My stint in the country, one block away, left me congested, and choking on post nasal drip. Eventually I got up and took a decongestant. Just one. Then I might as well have been a toddler, jumping up and down in the crib, not about to go to sleep.

I fired up the computer, brought up EBay and typed in "enamel top kitchen table". Yes, K was as disappointed as I was that the one we anticipated was no more.

I went through two pages of enamel tables, then went back to the first page and emailed K that there were two tables on the page that I would have in a heartbeat. Was she up for a day trip? I went back to bed, and still did not sleep for more than a couple of hours. That put a dent in today.

When I conferred with her this morning, K and I had the same first choice. I hung up and bought it. Too bad to the fellow who put in a low bid! It goes in 61's kitchen now.