Back to back outtings

Last week I had a visitor, and went grocery shopping with Laura. Next week I have the annual ophthalmologist appointment, my second Covid vax and a consult with my PC about the pneumonia finding. Next week can wait. Last week was both amusing and fun. Here's more.

My youngest daughter asked to come visit, and she stopped by Tuesday afternoon. It seemed a normal chat, knit visit, but it was a mistake and can't happen again. Shelly said she was surprised I let her come. I came to understand why. The two youngest have not, will not tell her where they live. Laura has her blocked on the phone.

It's very difficult for me to behave normally, yet withhold information in the normal course of conversation. I know Laura has not revealed her current living arrangement to her mother, but had no idea Blake has not done so, also. Rearranging my scrambled brain to accommodate that was tricky. I can't do it again.

Thursday Laura and I went grocery shopping, an outing I thoroughly enjoy. I have no one else willing to devote that bock of time, and I'm sure one day Laura will not be able, either. Until then, I like our monthly afternoon of chatting and shopping. I had to tell Laura I'd inadvertently divulged her employer to her mother and she responded she was "not bothered." Phew.

We saw this car in Kreiger's parking lot. Laura disapproves of cars that are not black or white, but gave this car a pass.

"We" carried in the groceries and unloaded them onto the counter. Then my smiling cohort ran the vacuum while I put them away.

This picture was for Shelly, who had invited herself to tour the house on Tuesday. When she opened the refrigerator, its contents were exactly those left-over containers, one mashed potatoes and one squash. "Bachelor's quarters!" she snorted.

So, back to Laura and shopping. We worked down to waiting for the laundry to dry. A pleasant afternoon all around, and that includes Toby cat.

Next week will be far more busy. I've confirmed my eye appointment several times by text. I am highly annoyed at their shabby trick of making the appointment for 10:30, and asking me to confirm I will arrive at 10:15. It's a half hour drive to the office. With any luck it will be raining sleet and I will cancel.

Inching to the finish line

I have no profound thoughts on the process of recovering. I suppose I am recovering from pneumonia. I'll learn more about it next week. I suppose we are recovering from the effect Covid had on us, and still does. The important brains of the world constructed an algorithm to send children back to school and cause restaurants to open.

Yesterday I gathered up my important right hand algorithm and went shopping. Last month, for the first time, I realized Laura has no convenient laundry facility, and invited her to bring her laundry. Her collapsible laundry basket was packed to the top. This time I texted Laura to remember her laundry, and it looked far less.

Laura lives in a very old neighborhood, the kind near and dear to my heart. I believe it will become a little more seedy, then gentrification will start. I went over a few minutes early, hoping to find black squirrels to photograph. Instead I fell for the houses.

This house is at the end of Laura's street. I am fascinated first by the screened in porch and second by the size. I believe it was built that long, not a cottage added to. I also like the tile work on the front porch step risers. Nice bannisters, too, says the old lady who no longer uses steps with no hand rails.

A small suburban attempt at midcentury modern? It's big enough.

Another interesting house to speculate upon. Is it a cottage of many additions? Does that second floor extension have windows on the back side? It can be a bedroom if it includes that second floor window, but I'd hate to use it. And why go to all that remodeling and not have a front porch?

OK, no railing and no decent front porch. However, it is true to the style of early 20th century middle class architecture. The several additions are well done, and that actually is one mighty big home. We had those greenhouse windows. The larger one succumbed to overhanging ice cycles.

I like this. A front porch from which to greet the neighbors. Back to that first addition, it is similar to the house I grew up in. It's my guess that the first addition has the new kitchen and family room with big screen television. Added behind that, a screened in sun porch. Well done.

Pure speculation, but I bet this house had the second story added to a cottage. The side addition came later; its windows are different. And finally, another addition out back for the new kitchen. The front steps have railings, and the red front door is fun.

Well done. And, this little house is not in the yard of any house I admired.

Where to start

First, my new pillow is grand. If you have one you remember loving more, strip it down to its sad self and look for the name. Input that name to google, and you probably will be returned a lot of pristine pillow pictures and where to buy it. Do it, and like Debby did, buy a couple for the guest bed, too. You'll know where to find the next replacement.

I mentioned a trip to my doctor recently. It was the standard several months out follow-up on the Lasix business. She smilingly said "This could have been a phone consult," and I said absolutely not; I needed to test the transport program in the building. Things went well until she announced she heard diminished breathing sounds in one lung lobe, and hoped I would stop for a chest x-ray on the way out of the building.

Long story short, the films indicated a very new case of double pneumonia. And that suddenly accounted for the volume of phlegm I've dealt with daily for the last little while. Given my penicillin allergy, the doctor prescribed azithromycin. Fortunately it's a only five day regimen. The stuff is brutal. I'm beginning to realize there really isn't enough of me to handle some "cures".

On the plus side, I woke to no phlegm this morning. We're following up by phone next Wednesday, after my Tuesday Covid shot. Given my reaction to the first shot, the doctor sort of harassed me until I agreed to ask my sister to drive me this time, to be sure I arrived home and went to bed still awake.

The sun is shining more often than not this week; snow is melting and so is the ice.

My beautiful weeds reappear. The footprints become giant, my stepping stone to the shed peeks out. Could it be spring? It's nearly March and return to daylight savings time.

Tomorrow Laura comes for the afternoon. I can resume my normal parking stance, my tires exactly on the edge of the drive. Since the snow event, not only was there a foothill of snow there, there was an ice skating path under the driver's side door that I didn't dare step on.

The last thing of importance in my world, the amaryllis continues its inexorable journey. How fortunate to be green. 

But I almost forgot; the rose arrived at its destination, and pleased PamJ. She left us a note and sent me a picture.

 

Miscellany

Up this morning to glorious sunshine! This entire week, sunshine or no, there has been an overnight snow fall, magnitude large to insignificant. 

This was Saturday's insignificant deposit. I did nothing, and by afternoon, or less:

I spent an hour or so weaving. Sadly, I spent at least a quarter of that unweaving, back past a weaving error. In knitting, we refer to that as tinking, knitting backwards. Anyone know the vernacular for "evaew"?

I roused myself from actual weaving because the furnace came on, meaning the end to sunshine for the cat:

My new pillow has come from Amazon. Last night, after the doors were locked and all the lights out save the office/bedroom, I checked my email and found my package on the porch.

It lived on the counter to this morning. After breakfast I worked my way in.

Amazing packaging. There was a soft rope handle of the twisted thread sort weavers know how to make, and that excellent zipper.

I've needed a new pillow for some time, and even made at least one unsatisfactory attempt to replace the old pillow that is at minimum ten years old. In the great scheme of loved pillow replacement, the old pillow probably could become even shabbier before I succeeded in replacing it. 

I wanted the same thick, soft pillow because the old pillow has become a bit lumpy and can be uncomfortably hard in places. I read pillow descriptions at length, pondering on words. When I finally bought a "replacement" several years ago it is hard as a rock. And pillows are expensive!

Recently I said to myself, that pillow is so good, no manufacturer would neglect to put its name all over it. And there it was, embroidered into the side panel. I typed the trademark "sleepbetter" into google and google gave me a picture right back.

I found a pillowcase and sleepbetter awaits bedtime tonight.

When I left off weaving this morning I stopped to admire the end of the warp.

See the pronounced split between each bout. That means probably ten or fewer turns left in each bout. Though each bout appears full from side to side, its not thick enough to push the threads together, side to side. So, when I finish the current color, I'll finish the warp in the same color, for cream colored towels.

I sold the last cream colored towel, which was the one folded to be a rose. I found a new folding method for that configuration, and the rose is rather sturdy, so we agreed to send it folded.

It should have been delivered yesterday. I'm still waiting to hear.

Another day of nothing

I moved snow again this morning. It takes fifteen or twenty minutes to clear the path. Yesterday there was a rather large overnight dump, and it's trash day, so I cleared and cleared and cleared, until it was obvious my trash cans are not going to the curb this week. There is no place for them to be stationed.

My "front yard" is as deep in snow as the skirting, where I've piled the snow swept from the path. My across the street neighbor has appropriated a bit of the street, and if I do the same our one and a half lane street becomes one lane. No sense tempting some fool to run over the trash. It can wait.

I see a two legged person cut through between units. That's not allowed, but seldom enforced. That's about six inches of snow around the shed. It's melted down a bit each day.

I had to shovel only one morning; it's been light enough for the broom the other four or five mornings. Each morning when I'm awake enough, I look out the window at the cars. Each morning there has been a fresh layer of snow on the cars,

which I take as my job to clear off.

Yesterday so many days of moving snow had me down, and I didn't weave. I spent the day with my feet up, knitting in hand, watching Hinterland. I'd watched a few minutes of it, but my daughter suggested, if I liked Broadchurch, I'd like Hinterland. So, down another British rabbit hole. The thing is, I have to watch to the end to know if I liked it.

I'm off on another adventure this afternoon. So pathetic. I have a doctor appointment, and this time I will have that transport, a ride in the wheel chair back that long distance I'm now obliged to park away from my doctor's door.

We all need this quarantine, this lock down to end. We must get on with the 21st century.

Murphy! Enough!

 

The worst first. There has been accumulating snow since the weekend.  Every morning the handy porch broom and I made short work of clearing the porch, the steps, a path to the street. I even drove out one day.

But this morning was a depressing sight. In addition to boots, I put on a scarf. The overnight snow was too much for the broom, so shovel it was. I finally have found a shovel I can handle. Nice job making a path for Cathy and the mail.

And that's enough of that. People we care about have a far worse situation to handle than this, and I send a lot of sympathy south.

Most everyone knows I use an opiate for pain. Belbuca, lowest dose twice a day. My pain PA says, cheerfully, "It's the one we give addicts to ease withdrawal; it has none".

Last week I had an appointment and the PA called in a new two month script. All was as usual until I called to see if it was ready. I was cutting it close; I would run out by Sunday and it was Friday.

A sweet young thing told me it would be in their delivery Monday, and she would transfer the script to another CVS. I called that store on Saturday and learned Tier 3 (or whatever tier this drug lives in) cannot be transferred.

Adding insult to injury, it was available nowhere. Tier whatever cannot be stocked, only ordered against a prescription. So, I fell back on that splitting dose solution, plus lots of Advil. When next I see her, I will tell the PA of my withdrawal. 

I had adequate doses for once a day, which I took in the morning, but nothing at night. And, I twitched until I could get to sleep. Horrid! As Scarlett said, this will never happen to me again! As soon as I'd moved the snow yesterday, I was off to the drug store.

At the store I waited a long time for the two cars ahead to leave. I have lots of time, generally, so I settled back to wait. Finally, at the window, my card was declined. I offered another, another decline. Said the clerk, "All the cards are being declined. I guess I better quit trying and just call them in!"

And so eventually I left, and the clerk could do as she pleased with the four cars accumulated behind me. 

I do have a life, currently back to normal. I took the Dusty Blue length from the loom and made it into towels.

I began a color called Green Aqua. My daughter, visiting Saturday afternoon, ventured I might make up my own, better name, for a color. My response was I could never keep track that way.

I do like this color. I'm sure I've made it before. And what else? I came in from the snow job this morning, hungry, and made a pan of cornbread for lunch.

Beautiful, isn't it. But I'm thinking cream cheese and jelly sammy for lunch. I earned it. And finally, the latest circle of towels. This one really pleases me. But I'll sell them, nevertheless.

Wack-a-vax

 I put the title Wack-a-vax into my posts a week ago. Having secured my first shot so easily, the first week my county made it available to my age group, is it a sort of survivor's guilt I feel for everyone still thrashing about, trying to find an appointment?

My daughter believes that only because her computer savvy nineteen year old was monitoring three computer screens for sites and appointments that they were able to secure Ruth's vaccination appointment.

Closer to home, I know my sister has been unable to secure appointments for her husband and herself in spite of her ability to get through the computer screens. In her couple of attempts, the appointments disappear before she can begin typing or worse, the site crashes. So, she waits to the next Tuesday, when the site opens again at twelve noon, for another try.

And worse yet, she has no response from any of the other sites she's registered with, including Cleveland Clinic. It's a crap shoot.

I won't launch into a lecture on how it should have been done, as we all know how it should have been done. I understand the country's death rate is down to slightly under three thousand a day.

In better news, my daughter came down to visit today, before the next snowmegeddon begins Sunday. Night. That's actually good news for a quick shopping trip tomorrow morning. God forbid I run out of butter.

It was wonderful to have someone around for a bit who could discuss The Impeachment, Books, Politics. I have not read, but she has, the census has been so compromised and delayed that we may not be de-gerrymandered until 2030. Ohio is under order of the voters to redraw legislative districts. Now, not ten years from now. We will pay the trump price for a century, I'm sure.

I am so taken by my bookmark from Kyle Shife I cannot just put it in a book. So the super power cat has a place on the table. His dad is the boss of that blog, and Kyle is an enterprising eleven-ish year old.

Kyle captured that "Got Milk?" moustache, magnificent whiskers and sangfroid presence perfectly. Oh yes, and the green eyes.

There will be dusty blue towels soon; that piece of fabric is off the loom. Past that, nothing to report.

Up to the minute

This morning was one digit. Seven, I think. Tomorrow will be one number, too. Totally against my principles. I hate getting ready for the day in sub-freezing weather. Worse, I had not showered for several sub-freezing mornings, and this morning I could no longer avoid it. Well, I could, but it would have been an uncomfortable day. 

On the bright side, I fiddled with the shower head dial, and found a setting that feels like actual water pressure. Once again I am considering a space heater in the bathroom, but I have such safety reservations about anything with a plug in the bathroom.

I did decide the bed could stand a wash, too. I'm only going into this detail because once again it involves the cat. I did prewarn him, but somehow this does not register. He is forbidden to sleep on any quilt on my bed. He is allowed to sleep on a white blanket I spread over the foot of my bed. 

The reason: I am horribly allergic. He is on the back of my chair as I type, and my nose will not breathe. I don't need cat chair all over my pillow and quilt; ergo, he may sleep on a blanket I can remove. I've never put the white blanket down on the white mattress cover for his snoozing pleasure. He has never tested me on mattress cover sleeping. 

The result is, when I begin stripping sheets, he speeds through the house yowling at top volume. This from a cat who sleeps in whatever sunshine he can find, and does not use my bed until evening. So that was the morning's start, a yowling cat and a hot shower in a cold bathroom.

Today there was little snow on my car, and the deck and steps were clean from yesterday's snow removal exercise. I needed a blood draw for an upcoming endocrinologist visit, and I had towels to mail, so after breakfast I bid Mr. Cat goodbye and headed off on the errands. I made it from the arbitrary front door to the clinic technicians. It will be difficult when I have to keep an appointment in the doctor's office next week; it's twice as far. I'll need help. But, that's next week.

The sheets were dry when I came back, so I made the bed.

 Someone thinks he is not a nuisance, keeping out of the way while I work.

Happy at last. It's four weeks to his next haircut. Maybe a Marine buzz will make him look more svelte.

That is the bulk of my day. I was too tired to weave, so I knit all afternoon, and watched the next season of Broadchurch. Had supper and retired to the office corner for some paperwork and blog reading.

The only other news I have to report is my motion detector light still comes on in the hall, but there is light in all the windows, too.

Yesterday seeps into today

 I've made a list of all the Netflix plus recommendations. It takes two sides of a quarter sheet of paper I use for scrap. 

Yesterday began with a will, after I slept in for half an hour. After breakfast I was working in the kitchen and looked up from scrubbing potatoes.

I cannot imagine, though I tried. The blinds on one side of the room or the other often put a dot of light on the ceiling. If he were a kitten there would be real trouble. Ten years of girth there. I was concerned enough to ask the vet who demonstrated sliding the top layer of kibble back into the bag. It worked for me, not for him. He apparently must take personal responsibility for his pandemic girth.

Over in the kitchen I was working on supper and making leftovers.

Acorn squash and cheesy scalloped potatoes. I was concerned the potatoes might cook over, which accounts for the order of the pans. 

I knit for a while. When the center pull ball was too messy, I spent half an hour putting it into a ball.

Isn't that a beautiful sight. I had scalloped potatoes and peas for supper. A balanced meal, though I had a second helping of potatoes. It's been a long time since I violated that rule of not going back for more kibble.

It was an exhausting day. I watched a couple episodes of Virgin River, and went to bed. At least Netflix remembers where I stopped and goes right back if I check the series again.

It's a new day. After breakfast I put together a crostata. Yum. Then I tackled that big project on hand, properly repotting the amaryllis bulb.

I trimmed off the excess of the old flowers, and discovered more leaves coming along on either side of the current leaves.

On both sides. The plant has a mind of its own. Perhaps it intends to own me.

Time for lunch and then afternoon plans. Another day half gone.

Circulating

What a beautiful day. Clear, blue sky, bright, bright sunshine. And, it's cold. Barely double digits when I got up this morning. The forecast is below zero overnight this coming week. When I went to bed last night, for the first time the sheets felt cold. The air warmed to a constant 67 degrees, cannot penetrate.

My 97 degrees between the sheets takes care of that, though. The wool lined quilt and the goose down do their job, and I wake up toasty every morning. But that's not what I set out to write of, if I even can remember any more.

Every day is much the same. Weaving, knitting, reading, something to eat, repeat. I did rearrange my living room, both pieces of furniture.

The sofa at an angle. More cozy. The pillows save the seat for any unexpected guest. I haven't had one of those since forever. If I did, I could move the pillows and offer my guest a cat hair free seat. Genius, yes?

I need help on Netflix programing. Some movies I'd like to see, I cannot find. I did watch Julie and Julia; excellent. I cannot find Greenbook, only a list of offerings like Greenbook.

Bridgerton I survived through the wedding and the bridal bed. Enough bad dialogue and worse sex. I found House of Cards. Interesting dialogue and bad sex. I'm fifteen or twenty episodes in, and the character who is the vice president of this country has committed two murders. The plot is growing too dark for me.

I've watched The Dig, Kominsky Method, Atypical. I have a list I've jotted down and searched among. I'll really appreciate more titles to search among.

I wrote down the title of this blog intending to talk a little about my enamel topped kitchen table. Debbie  asked about it once, saying it looked like one they had in storage, for their "retirement" home. That is on her mind heavily these days, but it looks as if they may slide out exactly at 65, keeping insurance intact. Only in America. I wonder if Biden will be able to plug some of the chinks pounded into the ACA.

But, the table. I was gifted it by my weaver friend Linda. She emailed me her history with it and characterized it as a piece that can keep coming in and out of one's life.

When she moved to Rochester as an eighteen year old Rochester University and School of Medicine nursing student, she took rooms at the downstairs half of a home owned by the Presbyterian church. They told her to go into the upstairs half of the house next door and take anything she needed for housekeeping.

Thus the table came into her life. It followed her to Eastlake, Ohio as her and Dick's dining room table, then to Scipio, New York as a utility table, back to Columbiana, Ohio as Alberta's dining room table, and then to me, when Alberta moved to Florida to live with Marcy. I love all those names, and how the memories roll with them.

This morning I wove; I'm close to half done with the blue.

I stepped outside for one breath of fresh air. Much more snow is gone, and Toad's state of health is even more apparent.

Time to go knit and try to untangle myself from House of Cards.