Not the blog I thought I'd write!

When the Loom Faerie came in from school last night, I asked how much homework she had to do. A lot! She did say she could go for groceries and gas with me. They deliver my groceries to the curb, but freeing up someone at the station to pump my gas has never happened.

Beggars can't, etc., and I settled for what I could get. And first there was snow. I woke to fat flakes putting down a couple of inches all over and around my get away car! Beggars can't be choosers, I groused, and set about turning on warp.

When I was this far on, three bouts, the Loom Faerie looked around the door frame and said she was on her way out to clear the car for the grocery run. What a kid! By the time she came back to say time to go, I had my all time record of four consecutive bouts done. I was too tired to argue.

We came back, I ate lunch, and felt decent enough to pick up warping where I'd left off. I made it through three more bouts of 125 turns each and then I crapped out.

I crawled to my room and flopped into my desk chair. I was well into a doze when I had a text: Still need help? I'll have time before I go back to school. And she showed up and cranked on the last four bouts. And put away the tools and stools and left over tubes of warp!

Monday morning she can start school with all her homework in order and I can start tying on eleven bouts of warp. That will take more than a day!

Going to be a long, cold winter

The local schools are closing because it's too cold for children to walk to school. The good news--no more 5:45 calls from the person who made that determination.

We have a fun outcome to look around to find. There was a contest to name the Ohio Turnpike snowplows. Well, eight of them, one for each salt barn, where the plow is stationed. Snow More Mr. Ice Guy is stationed in the Boston Maintenance Building. The others have been named O-H Snow U Didn't; Ah, Push It---Push It Real Good; Snow Force One; Sir Plows-A-Lot (my personal favorite, but stationed far, far away); Snowbi-Wan Kenobi; Plowy McPlowface; and Darth Blader.

I don't know if the idea originated in Ohio. I have read of the contest being held in other states and municipalities. I haven't learned of any new names.

Today I emptied the loom of a warp I began last fall, September 6th exactly. Then a long hiatus, until shortly after Christmas! Now there are four towels on the wheel. I will confess, before someone trips me up, the cream towel is on the wheel for the very first time. In the past it has only been alluded to, via the little rose.

I finished a couple of the towels today, to update the web page (everythingoldisnewagain.shop). Tomorrow I'll finish clearing out around the loom and begin turning on a new warp. 

Or maybe I'll mop the winter from the floors tomorrow, and see if my loom fayerie shows up on Saturday. It does take her only two hours for a full warp and it takes me a week and a lot of whining.

Best laid plans

Sunday night I called my doctor's after hours answering service and cancelled today's ten o'clock appointment. He'd already backed my appointment up half an hour to give him time to dash somewhere; now he'd have a whole hour to get there, in some mighty bad weather.

From the time it began snowing, about six in the evening last Saturday, we had 17" before it ended Sunday night, about six.  I woke this morning to snow, and it has not yet quit, at six. I am not impressed! The last time I dealt with this much snow was in the seventies. I had three snow shovelers in the house. The snow was stacked six feet high along the drive way. By the end we had only one lane shoveled from the two car garage.

There were two snow shovelers over the weekend, but now one is back in school. The other asked if I needed to go anywhere tomorrow. By good fortune, I have nowhere to be until a week from today. Such a relieved face! At least the job can be postponed until the snow ends. "Right now it's like emptying a swimming pool with a pail."

I'm so near the end of this warp, but I keep winding bobbins to finish. I did ask my sister about the stack of drawers with the long screwdriver in the top drawer. "Whoever has the drawers has the screwdriver," she said, and she does not remember who got the drawers.

So, I retreated to Amazon and called up screwdrivers. They barely come singly these days. I bought one that should work. Otherwise, I'll just go back and spend ten dollars on a longer one.

 

Lately I learn the hard way, or no way at all

My sewing skills are fairly rudimentary. I'm including machine maintenance in that skill set. Some things are burned into my brain. How about replacing a needle and not knowing which direction to face the groove in the needle. It can be a mystery, if you don't have it written down in ink somewhere on the machine.

My sister quilts professionally, as you know, and can disassemble her machine in the dark, clean it and put it back together by the light of a flashlight held between her lips. She knows her stuff! On time I interrupted her to ask where the needle groove went on my Husqvarna machine. "The thread follows the groove!" she said, and left. I never forgot that.

Yesterday I found I no longer remember how many pieces must be disassembled to clean a machine! I was hemming towels, of course. Short of a modicum of mending, it's what I do on a sewing machine now. My current machine is a Brother, and it was jamming the thread. After I'd extracted the broken looper thread a dozen times, I thought I'd see if it needed cleaned. 

The inside was brushed to shining, when I looked, and I could see nothing suspicious. In desperation, I began shoving my finger around the inside. Finally I decided it felt sort of soft, there under the throat plate. I located my screwdrivers and began. The screwdrivers provided by Brother are shite, by the way, but I got the job done.

Now I remember I used to do that job with a long screwdriver in a set of old Singer drawers that I no longer have. I wonder if I gave them to Janice. Must check and reclaim that screwdriver if possible.

Anyway, I freed the plate, turned it over, and smiled at the stuffed cushion it had become. What did I expect, shoving the needle through 100% cotton, the real deal, to hem towels? I cleaned and cleaned, replaced the plate and the screws, the latter with my thumbnails, and it sews like butter, to quote a malposition from my daughter.

Lint, but not in my machine.

Brain fog?

 I'm just beginning to understand how much of my dilemma with the newest Blogger is not my fault,  unless there was some manual issued with the last upgrade, whenever that was. In fact, I did not miss the missing pages under the banner until a reader pointed out their demise.

A new page there was added or subtracted on its regular blogger maintenance page, as I recall. We went to the layout page, for my purposes, only for changes to gadgets, and they were rather drag and drop complicated. Well, here's the real deal: you now fiddle with pages under their gadget in the layout page, too. Just another rule to memorize!

I've put back the Towels for Sale page. It's somewhat different; it lists the current color wheel with the option to click on it to go to my web page, https://www.everythingoldisnewagain.shop/. It shows the current towel finished, and will list all the colors I've made. I just finished the Brick set of towels, a color I see I did not weave in the past.

When I have some spare time, I may stop and list every color towel I have woven. I'm nearing the end of the current warp, so these last towels are a run of cream.

I am through with the at home physical therapists. That has not been an entire success, though I have improved visit over visit in these sessions. I will pick up again with Akron General, but not until the weather improves.

I made it to a doctor appointment today, but only because strong young women and men finished clearing our drive and behind my car. They left my car, according to K, the lone getaway car. I hope it is not a long winter!

A few inches became the biggest single snowfall since the seventies!

 When I was a patient at Regina I learned something about drugs. I appreciate them, but don't like them and often have considered kicking the whole protocol and thought I had a lovely opportunity to quit them. The first night there my drug orders had not caught up with me, and my worst withdrawal was the usual foot kicks, which I subdued by putting one foot under the other and sleeping.

The second night my right foot was not giving in to being subdued by the left. This was hard on my psyche, and my sleep. I was still awake when the night nurse came around taking vitals. A sturdy leg twitch caught his attention, and Mike asked if I was alright. I explained my drugless situation. He lifted the bottom of the sheet and trained his flashlight down. "Hmmm, serious restless leg syndrome," he dryly remarked. He said he could fix it and returned with a 2mg dose of oxycodone, which I had turned down at bedtime. It certainly "fixed it."

The next night all my orders had appeared and the rest of my stay was properly medicated, save the time the powers that don't think clearly withheld my Lyrica and I slid out of bed.

Fast forwarding to today, we had fourteen to seventeen inches overnight. Last Friday I had a text from my not too reliable drug store that my Belbuca prescription would not be available until today, when the order would arrive. I should have this figured out by now! My sister went by and picked up my Lyrica and I planned getting through to today with minimal Restless Leg Syndrome. I took half yesterday's dose and saved the rest for this morning, thinking my sister could drive by the drugstore this afternoon .

Only the dog found relief this morning. The ramp is packed as high as the snow on the left, which is just higher than a pair of wellies. Up to a set of knees. The cars are up to their windows in snow.

I made a couple of phone calls for a snow shoveller, to no avail. I'll try again tomorrow.

K's consolation prize: A fantastic, warm gingerbread cottage. I sampled the chimney on the way to table.

What to say

It's snowing. We are not forecast for the big blow coming out of Minnesota, looping down to Florida and up the East Coast. Actually, only a few inches are in our future, and I'm unhappy. On the whole, that is because I needn't be happy about the cold, the wet, the snow.

I quit listening to a book today. If you wonder how many ways I enjoy weaving, one is listening to audio books. I decided to look into Janice Hadlow's The Other Bennet Sister. She's just brought William Collins, the nephew, into her version of Pride and Prejudice, and I turned it off and quit weaving for today. I thought I was OK with hearing Mary's personal triumph (I believe), but listening to his entire adventure too was beyond my endurance. I quit it and quit weaving for the day. 

I realize I've listened to all the books currently downloaded once. I may tackle a couple a second time, before relinquishing them. I'm long overdue to read The Road to Wigan Pier. It was excellent and I will read it again. Carly Simon's Touched by the Sun also merits a second read. It's about her relationship with Jackie Kennedy.

What else? It seems I am a rant depository. My friend Ann called me recently, not on a usual Monday, with a complex and complicated rant, "because they don't go past you!" Of course they don't. I simply cannot remember the contents of the first sentence when she has reached the third. 

A look at my photos produced nothing worth sharing, so I'll just sign off until next time.

Big expectations!

 I bought a trench coat several years ago. Perhaps many years ago. I'd owned one years before, in my college days. It was the classic tan, with a zip in lining, nice going on winter. I lent it to a friend and it never came back. The trench coat I bought I don't remember when, was green corduroy. Nice Irish green, all the appropriate epaulettes, big brown buttons securing them. Double breasted, and most important, a long, long belt to secure it when all those buttons were a nuisance.

This coat probably accompanied me on airplanes, to corporate meetings late in my career, to be casually draped over the chair beside me and accepted when a gentleman held it out for me to wear to lunch. At the end of some seasons it went to the dry cleaner's laundry for a trip through the suds and the mangle. On its last trip I detoured it through the tailor's shop, to secure all its big brown buttons, some of which were on the last thread.

I wore the coat to a couple years trustee meetings. I remember Ed, our legal representative, holding it for me to put on, and remarking on it. He wore a heavy dark grey wool trench coat in winter, generally tied.

Then I had a stroke, and lost a lot of weight. The coat hung, unused. It moved house several times, surviving my purges. I don't know why; when I tried it on currently, I was a miniature figure swathed in an oversized coat. Pathetic.

Finally deciding to sell it, I took the obligatory pictures for eBay, and since I tell much on Blogger, mentioned the coat would be listed as soon as a tall enough person appeared to hang the coat high enough for decent pictures.

An astute fellow blogger said to herself, "I wonder if it's my size!", and sent me an email. We determined it probably was, and I mailed it off. I should have made a picture of the envelope I crammed it into. The only caveat to the transaction: pictures required.

That coat went to an excellent home!

Nancy Drew in overdrive

EVERYTHING OLD IS NEW AGAIN

Coming home from the doctor appointment today my phone took an email from a loyal follower that said, in essence, where are the pages about how to buy towels that should be at the top of your blog? Well, Linda, I've searched several hours for an answer and do not have one. There must be an answer, and Nancy and I will not quit until we solve this one.

The poor doctor burst into the room, x-ray copies flapping and said he wished all the rest of his difficult cases were progressing at the rate of this difficult case. Pause for happy remark from me, and he heard "Doctor, my heel hurts, my foot hurts, my calves are swollen and filled with fluid, and finally, my legs are noticeably different lengths and causing my hip to hurt when I take a step."

Poor fellow. He helped me peel away my shoe, sock and orthopedic stocking to take a look. Everywhere he poked or prodded, there was a reaction! We agreed on a visit to an orthopedic shoe maker. I may be cured by the time that comes around on February second.

There was quite a surprise on the way home. I wonder if I ever reported the cure to Akron-Peninsula road caving into the Cuyahoga River was to cut a new road through the leading edge of the golf course. I turned on A-P and could go home up Truxell, past my golf course.

And here's another shot, isolating my willow even more:

Nothing worth saving, but fun to know it all still exists, though a bit more shabby. And no great heron.

I've decided, until I find the missing pages problem, I'll just put a link to the towel site at the top and bottom of my pages.

EVERYTHING OLD IS NEW AGAIN

I may go to sleep

EVERYTHING OLD IS NEW AGAIN

Here's a fun fact about rehab, or my rehab facility at any rate. They do not stock drugs like a hospital. The patient transfers from the hospital with no non-essential drugs. Their drug list is reviewed and scripts for the drugs are written, signed, submitted, then your drugs straggle into the repertoire.

When one goes home, all the left over drugs go with him. Miss L and I spent an afternoon punching pills from cardboard and putting them into the appropriate bottle. We even made a bottle for the oxycodone, and my physical therapist was so happy I wrote the strength and pill dose on the bottle. Such sticklers for the whole story!

When I was struck down by the attack of muscle pain, foot bottom and ankle pain, swollen calves, and inability to perambulate, my PC was grateful for all those oxy's and will even write me one more week's script if needed. Gawd, I hope not.

However, nothing is going away. And here in the great midwest, home of secondary lake effect snow storms, I keep being referred to doctor after doctor, racking up appointments for which I fill out an hour's paperwork.

My PC called to cancel our four o'clock because her three o'clock cancelled and she could get home to her blizzard ravaged county if I would agree to phoning it in. We had such a fun time chatting that a while later her PA called to fill in the facts and details, like my BP's.

Did I mention she put me on the pee pill? I despise them. The first time I took them against her script of several times a day, I like to killed myself. My kidney doctor helped my whittle it down it one a day, and eventually two a day. I'm on two a day now. I do not use the bathroom all day, but visit at least four times at night.

When not going to the doctor, I'm weaving. I've restocked two towels. 

The next color will be cerise. Then a fun dark purple; I haven't looked up the name yet. 

I decided last summer to buy CD's for each of my grands. That means Certificate of Deposit, in case anyone thinks the little dears are getting greatest Beatle hits. The two extra payments last year allowed me to go way over budget, and when I wrote the six of them a mass email, I certainly did not expect a reply. But almost at once, from the family of four children, I received a thank you from the two youngest.

And today, a thank you from France. I'm counting it as timely since I promoted the CD as last year's birthday, Christmas gift, and France celebrated each (both) only two weeks ago.

And France is his own promoter. He says the next time he is in town, we'll get together to reminisce.

Well, the last oxy has its fingers around my throat. I'll do something that will be OK to sleep over.

Well, I paid another due!

 In case you have not paid incredibly close attention, I am in a business that must collect sales taxes, and pay up occasionally. In my case that is twice a year, January and July. We lucky fools use the Ohio Business Gateway. For all it's fine name, it's a complex program that is easy after twenty years of bi-annual use, and probably a year of daily use. I'll never be in either category again.

Texting back and forth with my sister I discovered her Ohio sales were sufficient to earn a five dollar discount. That's another joke; the discount for collecting, banking and then remitting "their" money does not cover the cost of the credit cards we collect it on. And that's a really old gripe.

Speaking of gripes, my left heel and sole of my foot hurt enough to cry, if I wanted to. I just moan and shuffle. I see the surgeon who repaired my femur on Tuesday. I'm beginning to wonder if they pinned my ankle somehow to aid in screwing in that long shaft. I sure will ask him.

I believe I mentioned the EMT fellows cut off ALL my clothes down to my skivvies before they transported me. My favorite front button fleece--zip--up the sleeve, across the shoulder seem, twice and it was history. And I know all their names and begged them not to cut anything. Today I asked Amazon to send me a new fleece jacket. But first I had to find it.

"Front button fleece jacket" only returned pullovers with decorative buttons on the front. Fools. Eventually I flipped enough pages to find a category, For the Older Woman. After I got over the aspersion I clicked, and there they were! Front button fleece jackets. I bought an even better one. A green, Aran knit, front button cotton jacket. Sadly, I cannot copy the picture to show it off. Oh, well.

More of the same

I saw my primary yesterday. She and her entire family are recovering from a bout of Covid-19, which makes me glad I'm not.

My sorry body was wheeled in by a volunteer. I shuffle in the morning until the first ibuprophen kicks in. I take another in the afternoon. In the meantime, my body is retaining so much water. Bla, bla, bla. We discussed me for a bit and she told me the ibuprophen is the cause of that problem, screwing with my kidneys. She switched me back to oxycodone. I guess the dose has to accumulate for it to be effective. And I just got "off" it, worse luck.

Before I left she gave me a pill to lower my dangerously elevated blood pressure, and it is working, I guess. Frankly, I'm in too much pain to much care. Today at 4:30 I remembered to call the pain doctor, to learn they close at four. Rats.

I did make it to the furniture store where Jan and I shopped for years. I had called to ask how handicapped accessible they were, to be greeted by a ramp over the step up into the store and then a transport wheelchair. I was wheeled from footrest chair to footrest chair, and picked the one I wanted for delivery by 3 p.m.

Am I tired of this nonsense? You bet. Tomorrow I see my dentist. I wonder if she will have a solution! Or the orthopedic surgeon, next week. Or my kidney doctor the week after. I cannot wait to be leveled out with all these doctors! On a fun note, the new (replacement) receptionist at my primary doctor's office had an identical pair of horn rimmed, round glasses, like mine. In four years, the first pair I've seen on someone else.

That's it! I'm out of stuff. Wait, I'm still weaving. Past half done on the current color!

Extra excitement!

After the festivities ended, the guests gone, the excitement died down, we learned two of the assembled had contracted Covid. K was able to find testing kits, and most of us tested negative, including negative tests for L and myself. I sent a message to my primary doctor before the tests, and received a call from her shortly after I'd used the second test. She was just recovering from a break through infection. She is double inoculated and boosted, and happy for that. She says she only feels bad cold crummy.

I've exchanged a couple of texts with a nurse I befriended in rehab. They jokingly say Covid came in right behind me. There have been double shifts, nights with no aide personnel, and worse, providing nursing for all three wings alone. Those halls are soooooo long. 

Back at the hacienda, I've had three therapy visits. The first was an evaluation and some gentle exercises assigned. The second my actual therapist, and some more exercises, including "stand up, sit down" twenty five times. Then we headed off to the stairs to try to step up, step down. I made it part way and then told her she must find her own way out; I could go no further. Each morning thereafter, I could barely walk without excessive application of pain killers.

When the nurse stopped to evaluate my progress yesterday, I told her I had been fine up to "stand up sit down". She said it wasn't the exercise, it was the reps. They will be reduced to a reasonable number. And that's what is going on with me. My body and soul are aware of the time and work it will require to get back to the cane. And I cannot hurry it, as the stand up, sit down business showed.

Otherwise, it's business as usual. The blue towels are done; the melon towels are almost half done. I have some jackets and a coat I want to sell on eBay, but must wait until I find someone tall enough to hang them high enough for a good picture. A green corduroy  trench coat, a red barn jacket and a brown corduroy dress jacket, all LL Bean. I un-grew them, all favorites!