This isn't a post

As ever, I'm sleeping in my chair. I wake up, to write a post around a picture I took, and go back to sleep again. I cannot believe the number of spelling mistakes.

It's going on all over again. How I love this little bird, and look at it and smile, and wake up atain some minutes later. Go back, to correct atain to again, but fall asleep.

Several weeks ago I woke with a bloody nose. Dry air. I bought a small humidifier for my small apartment and all seemed well, except there was no further way to enjoy that delightful stream of wet, cool air streaming from the little slot atop my humidifier.

Until one day I picked up Alberta's beautiful pie bird. I told the sweet little fellow that now that I no longer have the ability to bake a pie, it surely will never whistle the completion of a pie. I offered it the chance to just to whistle; whistle to its heart's joy; to whistle until its decals melted away.

I positioned it over the exit slot for steam and waited a very few seconds. Steam soon accumulated and poured from its beak. But nothin else happened. No whistle. No drops of perpetration. I lifted it off. Stone cold. 

That is the output of a cool mist humidifier.

If I were writing this again, I might not spend the time correcting errors. Now it is well past bedtime.

Load's in the dryer

We had a gathering of the residents still in house for a meal at two this afternoon. I sat with Margaret, as usual. Our other two seat mates, Rose and Ilene, remain gone for various reasons, and Mary Lou sat with us, her table/seat mate being gone on vacation. Complicated? Not really, now that I know most everyone's name and personality.

I barely had returned and closed the door when I heard a knock. Actually, I had just walked in the door, closed it, and put my salad and slice of cake for dinner in the fridge and closed it when I heard the knock. 

It was MaryLou, who said apologetically, "I walked right by my door and got on the elevator. You said you were going to weave, so I hope I'm not bothering you and can watch for a bit." 

That MaryLou may be 95, but she's pretty light on her feet. Plus, she has a head full of snow white hair, just like Uncle Bill. However, the halls are pretty long and tiring.

Looking from my door down the length of the hall, turn left, walk the width of the atrium below, turn left and be immediately at the elevator. So I wove for her for a bit, explained what I was doing, showed off some finished towels. She asked questions and I answered. The usual. After a bit she said she must be getting back, and so she left.

It was going on five in the afternoon, so I took a chance on doing laundry. That first door on the left is the community laundry room; two washers, two dryers. We cannot use them on Monday and Tuesday; the housekeeping staff changes beds and washes sheets those days.

They were all clear, so I shuffled back for the load and got it in motion. Returned, set the timer for forty-five minutes, and resumed weaving. I finished one bobbin, perhaps two. I wish I could remember details. I am so pleased to have written this all down once, a complete time/motion study. 

At any rate, I left for the laundry and put the load in the dryer. I came back, set the timer for the next forty-five minutes. I have no idea what I did until it went off. Another problem, this ability to slip into a trance. But I did answer the bell and return to check the status.

The dryer was on wrinkle-control, which doesn't scare me. That's just cool-down. I filled my wheelie basket and came on home. I hung the two nice shirts over the handle and the rest can be folded tomorrow.

And finally, I am so happy my utilities are included! My little furnace has run ALL day. Here's my current weather report. It's five degrees, feels like minus twelve and headed for an overnight temp of minus three. Oh, yes, and a wind chill advisory

Winter weather warning

There has been no serious winter weather to date. That is about to change for us, and much of the country, This is winter storm Elliot. The weather channel warns it may become a bomb cyclone. As for me, I've  no experience with this sort of storm, and would like at least a quick peek.

Here at the control center we are enjoying what we know of this unusual event. The banks are saying don't rely on them to be  open. They suggest falling back on our phone apps in the event of an extraordinary storm.

On a brighter note, this morning's exercise class was yoga and tomorrow's is seated exercise. I like the yoga class very much and generally must wake myself at the end. A good thing. I've dropped the Wednesday exercise class. The workout is too hard and leaves me in pain, which I don't need.

I have been at work in the studio, too, these past two weeks. I finished the blue, Blue Cobalt, and have it all cut and made into towels.

Now I am working on a totally new to me color, Charcoal. I'm a way off from finished towels, but here is a picture of a couple of bobbins of finished thread:

As you can see, it is not black. Black is too flat and shiny. You could ask Jan to make a swatch of charcoal to have a sample to look down on. It is an excellent color to work with and I am anxious to weave some more auxiliary colors that will be complementary.

Last week's review

Exercise! We can exercise our fool heads off four days a week, in the early morning. The only one I can appreciate is the Wednesday morning, 10:30 a.m. yoga class. It is all stretches and it puts me near to sleep by the end.

There also is a 10:30 a.m. flexing class for an hour Tuesday. The only thing good is the time. It is an hour of flexing to music. Monday and Thursday is 10:00 a.m. chair exercise for an hour.

I circulated through all four last week and decided to return this week. Then I remembered Doctor appointments on Monday and Tuesday, at ten and ten-thirty. Saved!

We also had a "Family Dinner" here one night last week. The food was very good. We could have up to four guests, so I asked Jan and Tom, Beth and Caroline. We did not go to the entertainment afterward. Jan and Tom went home; Beth, Caroline and I sat around my living room and chatted for a couple of hours. Caroline filled me in on her classes, and I sent her home with yarn, patterns and knitting needles. I emptied three drawers.

The last bit to report is Bingo. I haven't missed many games, and now I have recovered from sharing half my jar of winnings with Laura, and since then I've stayed even.

The side yard is progressing, I guess. Concrete has been poured over the entire "floor" area. They used one of the small tractor units to level the concrete, and ran over exactly one pipe. I'm impressed, considering the small area being worked.

Concrete trucks pulled in and out from seven in the morning until five at night. My only thought on that is What a Lot of Concrete.

A silly day(s)

Good things and silly things this past week. This was just plain stupid. I generally try to schedule my pain meds at the drug store to be able to pick them up on a timely basis. Now I'm working with a new drug store, and must train them. They did not order my last refill on a timely basis and consequently would get the last refill a day late. Actually, I missed two doses (the night before and that morning) and was now waiting to know it had come in that day's shipment before I ventured out into the black and rainy night. Again I looked particularly unhappy; so much so Robin, one of the concierges asked if I was OK. I explained I was now obliged to go out into the pouring rain and black dark and make two left hand turns into black drive ways, blablablabla. Robin said I'll go for you, and she did.

I had a sweet email from my 18 year old granddaughter this week. She will be home for the holidays next week and is coming with her mother for a holiday dinner here. She wants to consult on socks! Her mother gave her my essay on how to construct a sock and she did OK until she got to the gussett. She talked it over with her mother for quite some time until Beth told her she should just ask Gramma and Caroline said Fine!, I will. Here's her second sock:

She knit them Magic Loop on a circular needle, because she "hates d/p's!" I think most of you have not seen Caroline for years, so here she is on vacation last summer:

Well, I tried to rotate this but can only find instructions for Picassa. Damnation.

Something else of note occurred this week, but I cannot remember, so I will go read blogs instead.

About over the week, but I understand it's only Tuesday

I decided to work harder this week, by adding all four morning exercise classes. I'm through two of them, and can assure you, several years of not working the old muscles sure takes a toll.

Here's another annoyance. Last night I spilled my coffee, and a lot of it on some select keys: l, n, m, and the space bar. Consequently they work poorly, if at all. We'll see how it goes here.

Back to exercise: yesterday was mild movement stuff. This is twice a week. Tuesday (and Thursday) is fast motion to fast music. This may kill me. Between Tuesday and Thursday we have a Yoga class that is gentle stretching. I'll keep going.

Also today I kept a frequently rescheduled dental appointment to pull a back molar sitting in a pool of decay. The dentist administered four separate injections of lidocaine before he started. He sent me off with a list of the usual precautions. I could barely talk at supper tonight, to the amusement of all. When I came upstairs and saw my drooping cheek and lips, I understood their amusement.

Most every day here is filled with activities to join or not. There is music for an hour or so every day before supper, put on generally by  decent performers with instruments. They generally are accompanied by tablets of recorded instrumentals. Tonight there was a vocal group that one of the residents here belongs to. They did a set of Christmas music.

The best performer generally is on Friday night, and that's the night Joe appears and looks for a dancing partner. The first Friday I was here he appeared in front of me jitter bugging. When I brushed him off with an "I can't", he started in on a slow dance. He was hard to discourage; he swore he wouldn't let me fall. 

Last Friday he got lucky with the daughter of my next door neighbor. Marilyn, next door, is a tall and lovely red head with two beautiful blond daughters, one of whom was visiting Marilyn.

And now my tooth is hurting and I'm going to bed.

Ruth's upgrade

Beth and Ruth came to visit last weekend. Beth was at Ruth's for better than a week, recuperating from knee surgery. Although Ruth's house is two levels, each is self contained, and more essentially, level. Beth had a knee replaced a couple of weeks ago, and was on her way home, with a stop here to visit.

We had a lovely visit, of course. When it was time for them to leave, I walked them to the hall and our good-byes continued, as they tend to do. Finally Ruth began tugging at my sleeve, telling me to turn around. When I finally did, what to my wondering eyes did appear but a lovely decoration on my door.

And there on the nekkid hook, a nice, fuzzy red and white wreath. She and Beth stopped at the big garden store on the way over and selected this door ornament for my very bare front door. Many still sport autumn decorations. Here is Lois, several doors down.  I like its simplicity.

There are several more Christmas decorations on the long walk to the elevator.

And that's it for Christmas, in nineteen apartments. For what it's worth, I have received several compliments on my decoration, for its simplicity. I need to send Ruth a note and tell her.

Jan and I were real city girls when we moved here.  An occasional raccoon in the trash was our total experience.  Here we had skunks in the front yard, fox (who moved into the front yard in broad daylight with their cubs the year the 17 year cicadas came popping out of the ground), hawks, coyotes, and our neighbor reporting Sasquatch in his woods across the street from us.  They have nothing on turkeys.

We would see the flock of turkeys down by the fire station, five miles north, then in the park five miles east, then somewhere else, until one day they were in our front yard.  We were invaded by wild turkeys.  We became turkey experts and learned they roost at dusk in the highest available spot.  We live on top of the hill.  They went even higher.  Our roof.  The turkey patriarch settled down each night on the studio chimney.

They got up at dawn, about the time the dogs went out and started their morning walk up the street.  Turkeys stand up, stretch, spread their wings and lift off.  Some lazy turkeys used the slope of the roof to gain lift momentum, sliding down as they lifted up.  We lost both front awnings to turkeys who misjudged the angle of the slope, went over the edge and through an awning.  Now we have metal awnings on the front, replacing the destroyed canvass awnings.

The turkeys went air born not to leave, but merely to get from the roof to the ground.  Once on the ground they walked up the street with Jan and the dogs.  Each morning she had a squawking, crowd behind her, beside her, in front of her, wings outspread, half running to keep up.  At the head of the street they would spread out in the field and not be heard from again until dusk.

Linda saw the turkeys at our house and said she needed a new turkey feather to put in her Shaker Woods hat.  “Not to worry,” said Tom, the hunter.  He was on medical leave at the time, foot in a cast from chasing a foolish dog into the neighbor’s horse corral and breaking something.  She and Tom were on the front porch. A turkey walked up the ramp, Tom leaned over and grabbed a handful of turkey tail feathers.  The turkey kept on walking, Tom kept on holding on.  The turkey dragged him across the porch, Linda holding him back for dear life as the turkey proceeded down the steps.  Tom balanced precariously on the edge. Linda holding him from going over the edge in his cast, yelling “Let Go Tom,” and the turkey kept on walking.  Tom let go.  Turkey lost no feathers.

Jan searched the internet for a solution and read that turkeys look for a place to roost at dusk.  Ah Ha.  If turkeys are not here at dusk, turkeys will not roost on our roof.   She rounded up half a dozen brooms and passed them out when the turkeys walked down the street as evening fell.  Even a broom to Tom, his leg in a cast.  The orders to her troops—no turkeys in the yard.  Turn them back.  Line forms at the street.  Don’t let them on the property.  Slow, steady, wait for the whites of their eyes.  Now men, present brooms, drive them back.  Up the street.  Up the street.  Up the street.  Don’t stop until it’s dusk!  In less than a week she had them roosting in our neighbor’s trees, where they could spy on Sasquatch.

Eventually the herd of turkeys moved on, we replaced the awnings and thought no more.  Until we had the roof replaced.  “Lady, do you know how much shit is on your roof?” 

Thanks for the memory, Pearl.

* * * * * * * * * * *  * * * * * * * * * * * ** * * ** * * * * ** * * * * * * * * * * *  ** * * * *  * * * * * *

I wrote this originally around 2010. Remember Pearl, who lived in Minneapolis and rode the bus to work. The line is a link to her blog. A scroll through her comments is fun; how many people do you recall?

Holiday's over; back to work

Actually, that title is a joke. I wonder what most of the people here do all day. I wouldn't know what to do without work!

Someone sent me this cartoon; I wish I could remember and say thanks. Back in the day a Statie stopped me for "weaving". It was on Interstate 80 in Pennsylvania, between the last PA exit and the Ohio border. There is a series of low rolling hills in the median and a police car, or worse yet, a State Highway Patrol would use it for radar cover.

This incident was in my early days of exhibiting, and I drove a white panel van. I've come to learn this type of van was popular with drug transporters. Mine was full of totes with lids, holding all the weaving, plus 2x2 racks for display and more totes with "stuff" for the booth.

Nipping along at the speed limit, suddenly a flash of light blinded me. This man knew how to deflect it from the mirror into my eyes, from the windshield into my eyes. It was the most intense light I've ever encountered. Fortunately I had the road to myself at two or three in the morning, and when I could focus, I steered off the road.

The State Highway Patrol sauntered up and asked if I knew I was weaving. I answered that at the moment I was not. I asked to see his badge and ID, which he showed me through the window.  I displayed everything he requested the same way. He copied my info into a notebook and went back to his car to check it. 

When he returned he invited me to step out and come look at my plate with an expired sticker. He pushed the dumbest button. It was Memorial Day weekend. The plate expired on June 1st. The last thing I did the previous week was put on the new sticker and head for New York state. I held up the current registration, to which that little sticker is affixed, until removed and stuck on the plate.

There was more chat, in which I was invited several times to step out. Eventually he said I was getting a "warning for weaving". I would not lower the window for him, but did tell him to mail it. I encountered the officer one more time, but that's another whole story.

This was the mid nineties. I had a cell phone; one of the first on the road. When he came up I held it up for him to see and pointed to the screen, to which I had keyed 911. I said if I anticipated trouble, I would press send. He said, "Ma'am, I am 911" and I replied "There are bigger 911's than you!"

I've devoted so many paragraphs to this, here's one more. He shined that effing light into every window, looking at the sealed totes. "What's in the totes, Ma'am" 

"My stuff." My stuff took up an hour of his time not gaining access. The next time I was stopped, several years later, I cheerfully pulled lids and explained what they were looking at. That was the first weekend after 9/11 and every van (and auto) going to an art show in America was searched. 

My neighbors at one show made fountains. They took the precaution of switching out the red gasoline containers in which they carried the water to be pumped for bonafide blue water containers. They did have to empty them and find water inside the venue.

There's an old adventure for you!

I finished my red towels yesterday, and have the blue cobalt bobbins wound and ready to weave. There should be one more run of towels and then I'll have to warp again. Here's my shelf of towels. You can see them even better at everythingoldisnewagain.shop.

And, finally, my curtains came.

I like these. Dale is coming to put up the rods and help with a couple other tasks. I met Dale at Shelly's little celebration for earning her Master of Science, Nursing.(l).

All that's left to get is the cat. I met another resident who has an old cat, for the "good company." Her cat is a middle teen.

 

The quarter repository

Last week the left over quarters fit in the other quarter bottle, or else I just left them on the sewing table. Today I stood patiently in line, looking at rejected cards as other players passed them to me, and handing out cards if anyone wanted a specific one. I see many people have "lucky" cards, and also see they don't consistently play the same "lucky" card. The card I've played every time is No. 24. That's the little control number in the bottom right. I also sit at the head table with my back to the rest of the room. That way I don't get involved in any silly horsing around.

The table was off to a bad start. There were quiet little bingos around the room, but nothing for the four of us. Then Rose had a bingo, and Mary Lou had two. Nothing for Joan or Joanne, and we were down to the jackpot. We each paid in our dollar. Then I said to the caller, "Listen, Joan and I don't want to split this pot. Just one winner, OK." The room cracked up; Joan agreed, and we started on the last game, cover the board.

I try not to look at other cards in play. Bad form. Though if you all start with 25 chips, and other players are down to the chip in their hand, it's for sure you're all waiting for one number. Joan and I each had one chip. The caller called my number and I said "Bingo!" I took a lot of good natured ribbing as I put the pot straight into the cloth carrier on the walker and left to wash my hands of dirty quarters. Another good day.

I sat at a new table for dinner, Rosie's table. Some time ago Rose asked if I still was interested in moving when one of their table went home. That turned out to be today, so off I went to a new group of women.

Toward the end of dinner, the phone rang. I ignored it. A few minutes later it rang again. It was Laura, telling me there was a piece of mail for me and she and Kay would like to deliver it and visit a bit. I explained the building is locked at five and it was later than that, I knew. Laura said Yes, it was later, and they were out front and couldn't get in. I told her to hold tight, I'd send someone and be out. I sent a kitchen helper and followed in her wake.

When I arrived in the lobby, Robin from the kitchen was gone and Kay and Laura were sitting in the lobby. I told them I was pleased with my move. They asked about recreation and I said I was more involved with weaving, but was having a good time at Bingo. Bingo! 

I scooped a handful from the cloth basket and poured them into Laura's hands. Out came a second handful. I had Laura pour them in her hoodie pocket and fished out the rest, plus the glass bottle. I emptied the loose coins and half the bottle into her hands. When she stood up, her stomach sagged. 

She filled me in on her plans for her junior year, next year. Very interesting. I'll fill you in soon.

I have no excuse, really, but here's why I haven't checked in much lately

I fell one of the first nights here and spent several hours in the emergency room. It cost me a new pair of glasses, and I hate them. They are not adjusted snugly enough to stay on my face or straight enough to keep my vision clear. I need to get back to the optometrist shop to have them adjusted again. Actually, this would be a good week to go; not much on the calendar except Thanksgiving. I guess I'll make every effort to do that.

There have been no interesting pictures of the side yard this week. It has either rained or snowed most of the week and the side yard has looked pretty shabby. Men have been down there, looking around in the rain and working the one day there was no precipitation and the mud was more stable. A great long trench has been dug way to the front of the area. I'm waiting to see if they lay more drainage pipes or more footers.

I am gaining a reputation at bingo, and it's not good, I fear. We play three times a week, twice for quarters and once for weekend script to the bistro. I've collected close to ten paper dollars to spend on pizza. The quarter game may be the death of me.

We play several games for a quarter a game per player, winner takes the pot. The last game is "cover the card" and costs five dollars to play. I have won at least one bingo game every week and I've won two "cover the card" games in the four weeks I've played. I've lived here eight weeks, but was flat on my back sick for three weeks and busy straightening up the first week.

There was plenty of chatter when I won the second big pot. Eventually I remarked I needed it to refill my quarter jar, a little jar that filled to the top holds about twenty dollars in quarters. That isn't what they wanted to hear. All over the room people raised little containers, shaking the quarters. "I had ten little medicine bottles of quarters when I moved here, five years ago, and now I have one!"

I promised to sing the same sad song when I began losing!

A really sad development

Thursday was a lovely day. I had to go out for that horrid pulmonary function test. I seem to have done well enough, though there were no "standards" indicated. We'll see. 

Shortly after I was back, a light rain began to fall. The day before there was a little rain. The scaffolding went up another layer to probably about eight feet, and blocks were raised to the new platform, but there seemed to be dissension on the site. 

The rain continued and the crew did not want to work. Supervisors eventually appeared and walked the new platform and indicated work was to continue.

The workers were grudgingly unloading the blocks on the platform at eight feet and someone started the concrete mixer, but the workers at eight feet raised some kind of protest at the load of blocks to be unloaded on the fourth side of the platform and the loader took them back to the pile of blocks.

The crew left; the only work accomplished the entire day was the laying of what I took to be the gas line. That didn't begin until well after noon, although that contractor was there at 7 a.m. in the morning, and waited more than an hour for any crew to appear.

Bringing us to this morning. Joanne, who must know everything, was at the window in her nightgown. The scene stunned me. Take a peek:

I've finally decided this structure is an elevator shaft and they really are building more two story units. Blocks are missing. Much of some walls are missing. There is no question it has rained all night. I know nothing about the structural integrity of wet concrete, but I bet all those kids in the crew did, and were arguing strongly for the current lack of structural integrity.

Here are flags for gas (yellow) and the orange flags are water, I think. That pipe in the center left is old and not structurally sound.

Another picture of general wetness. Whoever buttoned up the site last did a questionable job. The concrete isn't covered; neither is the pile of sand. 

Around noon today, still in the drizzling rain, one of the contractor vans appeared and a white haired man with an expensive short beard and moustache eventually got out into the rain, took that shovel jammed into the sand pile and began trenching out to the service road on the right hand side of the picture. 

 

Curiouser and curiouser

When I woke, hours ago (it's four in the afternoon and soon I must go to supper), from my bed I could see a framework going up around one of the foundations. It was some time before I retrieved my glasses and took a real look. It probably was close to ten. Here's what I saw:

I cannot imagine, but I'll keep my eye on it. Don't want anything going wrong out there.

My day was the usual busy. I ate breakfast, did a load of laundry, wove a couple more bobbins, put the laundry in to dry, ate lunch, retrieved the laundry and folded it. Stacked it neatly in the rolling crate and then laid down to take a nap.

Naps are self regulating. If there is nothing important going on downstairs, I don't bother to wake up until I do. Today was scrabble, and I've joined in from time to time, but my scrabble abilities need a lot of re-honing. So I didn't make any effort to wake up and just did.

I put away the laundry, and then spent an age trying to edit this photo, which included altogether too much windows. Speaking of windows, the curtains are on order and the hardware is in. I'm putting off talking to John about installing the hardware. No sense in stirring sleeping dogs until the curtains are delivered.

He seems to be unhappy with me. My last request was installation of new towel racks I bought. This involved a lot of "be right back(!)" and huffy exiting for more equipment. When he finally left I went in the bathroom to look and saw I must rehang towels.

When I pulled the second towel over its bar, the top of the rack slid out of the wall, pulling out the screwed in plugs. I stopped at once and gave myself the rest of the day to think about it. Eventually I rounded up my lovely Gorilla Glue and trusty hammer and deposited them in the bathroom to await the proper moment.

The next morning I applied dabs of glue to the two recalcitrant plugs, and gave each a mighty thump back into the wall. One morning later I gave the rack a substantial pull and feeling only resistance, I rehung the towels and took a shower.

That was a week or more ago. I would like to give John plenty of time to forget about the job before he sets out on curtain rods I may need to figure out how to repair.

Almost back on my feet

It's nice to sit here and type, not attacked by a fit of coughing! Enough of that; no more sick talking. I still can doze off for half an hour. My life has been fairly circumscribed, this quarantining business. But, no one can be bothered by the coughing or suffer from contagion.

I have accomplished very little. The orange towels are off and mostly hemmed. I have a lovely red up to weave next. Other than that, I've spent my time deleting political emails, unread, and sleeping.

Curtains were the furthest thing from my mind last August, when I moved in, but are growing more and more dear to my mind every day. About five o'clock the cold air begins to roll off those three lovely windows. When the weather gets colder, there will be cold air twenty four hours a day.

I'm looking out at a lovely winter sunset now, but I'll be happy to be drawing my curtains over it. I'm enjoying the building down below, too. Eventually all the work being done looked too scanty for buildings, so I asked what's going on. Apparently they are building a game court. That will be interesting watching, too.

I've been some time finding this little to talk about, so I'll leave you with the sunset and see you next time.

Another day in the life of a sick weaver in Aurora

It has been six weeks since I moved here. This cold is a setback, the damned trash fall was a set back. The entire loom had to be "tied on" again. All of the above notwithstanding, I finished the orange yesterday, (finally!), but saved cutting it of until this morning. Or maybe last night. Not important.

It's for damn sure a Ricola between doses of cough medicine does not stop a bout of coughing!

This morning I got to the loom after breakfast. Actually to the serger. I remember the bout was cut off and ready to finish for the washing machine. I serged each cut end and moved on to the sewing machine to further secure each end. This simply means two more rows of sewing through the serger threads.

Buzzing along, paying no attention, the machine jammed. I'd sewed right off the edge of my fabric and continued along for an inch or so, until the sewing machine said "Stop Now."

The needle was half through a stroke and would neither raise nor lower. I kept taking off parts until the entire bobbin assembly was on the table and the thread freed. Then to replace the bobbin bits and snap them in place. Remember, it was breakfast not long ago.

At noon I quit and had an ice cream for lunch. I was expecting Beth sometime this afternoon, so I retired to the computer to wait. She appeared at supper time and before she left I asked for her help. She balanced the machine on its back and balanced the parts where they belonged. Snapped closed the case and I  was back in business.

After she was gone I gathered the roll of fabric and headed across the hall. Both washers were running. Ah, well. Tomorrow is as good as today.

Halloween is being celebrated here this weekend (and probably Monday, too!) I wore my cat sweater.

Surviving on ice cream

The lurgy, or whatever it was returned in full force over the weekend. All I could do was cough and blow my nose. Then fall asleep and wake up two or more hours later. At one point in my terminal delirium, I remembered winter is coming and I still don't know how to operate my 2014 headlights. 

This is a problem to be solved only by my daughter, the Subi expert. I called. I could not sound healthy, try as I might. I went back to sleep after we talked. In a bit, loud banging on my door. It was Jenny, the concierge, with a lovely handle bag from the drug store. 

Her message from my daughter was "Take this, it's the only thing that works. And, please stop licking the doorknobs." I laughed so hard I doubled over and then had to find a handkerchief to catch the flying snot. Jenny said "Oh dear. I will order your dinner brought up." And I responded, "Two ice creams, please."

I struggled with the printing on the box and then on the bottle and the little measuring dose cap. Even with my shiny new glasses I could read nothing. Oh well. I could still drink it. I struggled with the cap, to no avail. I'd just sorted the heavy duty pliers from the tool box when another knock, knock, knock, and my dinner was at the door. 

I asked the nice young man to open the bottle, and he did. I slugged down dose one and put the ice cream in the freezer. The current selection is Buckeye Salute. No, not Ohio State. Buckeye's! Candy to be made nowhere else. A peanut ball center dropped in dark chocolate and served by the gross. Some people serve them in little paper candy cups, some with toothpicks. Serving them in excellent vanilla ice cream is shear genius.

Beth promised me a picture to help me understand how the lights work.

Look, dear old Mom can figure it out now. So nicely labelled and everything. Later today I had to go out, and remembered to take a picture of my own:

In my defense, I've not been well.

Living lite

I like listening to the gossip of the old timers who have been here since Hector was a pup. There have been significant changes in their time, and many of those changes recent. I've mentioned we have five meals a week served in the common dining room and two served in disposable dishes in our rooms.

This change happened during the Covid interval, and I've heard plenty of chatter about how sad and difficult those couple of years were. Since the return to more "normal" times the facilities have faced the same problems as everyone else, the lack of hired help, especially kitchen staff and servers.

Dinner in the dining room is served cafeteria style, from large, heated, domed servers. The food during the week is very good. The selection is one kind of vegetable, usually a couple of starch, potato selections, usually up to three meats. From this week I can remember pecan crusted salmon,  rolled pork roast stuffed with something, rolled beef slices, various casseroles. Moving on to desserts, which run the gamut.  Then excellent ice cream. We can take as much as we we want to our rooms, as prepared meals are not served at lunch time. There is a refrigerator and freezer for storage, plenty of cupboards and a stove. 

There are games, activities, movies, yoga, exercises, bingo, the library, the pool, and more. If we drive, our car in on site. The bus can be reserved once a week to go to the grocery and drug store and small town attractions.

I have no idea what others do with the rest of their time. Personally I am four bobbins from clearing off the rest of the orange warp from  the loom. The next warp will be some variety of red.

There are a couple of small metro parks here in Portage County that I must investigate for potential. I confess, first I must learn my way around the county better. I did sort out my County ballot and fill it out. A couple of judges did declare their political affiliation, a couple did not, and one was a proud Republican, on Google, but not on the ballot. Those I proudly left blank.

An atrium on my way to dinner. The foliage is getting thin and sparse.

Muddling on through

All is well with the new digs except--I have a problem to solve. Today I just got angry and went for it. I've had the same table mates for the entire month, and apparently could have them forever. I have a problem with the system and with my table mates. I was arbitrarily seated and told this is my chair forever. The woman to my left has no interest in anything. She claims to remember nothing she did during the day and doesn't talk. Next around is profoundly deaf; anything must be repeated several times. She tries to be interested, but is more into her pot of tea. The woman to my right is 93, and also quite deaf.

I spent a week trying to make conversation, to no avail. I do know the first woman came with a husband who died a couple of years ago. "He was a drinker!" she said. End of that conversation. The next woman I've quit trying to learn anything about; conversation is impossible. The third woman I like; she tries to participate. I help two and three open their creamers and locate the sugar. The third, Marge, has begun to open up to my oft repeated questions.

In addition to her age, I've learned she used to work for a Cleveland furniture store, Sidley, I believe. Her job was to run the nursery, where customer's children could be deposited. She loved that job and had it until she fell and was a long time recovering from broken bones.

There has been no mutual conversation, but at least I can elicit a little history from one. I thought I could leave it at that; I was getting to know a number of the other women who came to some of the activities and they teased me about the dead weight at my table and suggested I ask for a change.

Then I caught Marge's cold. Marge on the left has been coughing since I arrived. She assured me she has been tested for everything and it is a chronic condition. About a week ago one of the employees began insisting Marge wear a mask. (There are two Marge's. On my dinner left, big Marge. On my dinner right, little Marge.) It was a power struggle and big Marge disobeyed as often as she could. The cough got worse, and I caught it. My first cold in forty years.

Yesterday I was too sick to care. I wore a mask in public and to dinner, which I was too sick to eat. I did tell Marge I caught it from her, and today I called the director and told her how to handle the problem. And that is exactly what the staff has been doing all day. 

I said they could move Marge or move me, I didn't care which. When I was over the cold and mask wearing, they could find me a new table, a little more animated, though it would be kind to send little Marge along with me. 

Of course half the population knew the situation by lunch, which amused me no end. My table didn't, however, so I sent word over that I was recovering from Marge's cold and then would move to a new table as Marge needed to get to the bottom of her "chronic cough", and take care not to pass it along in the meantime. I am surprised the powers that be did not not insist on it. The director told me that Marge claimed to be cured and I said where was the proof?

But, this is the same administration that does not update information packets, pass out mandatory buzzers on a timely basis, or issue third room keys when requested. Why do something as simple as ask that a chronic cough be cured or OK'd by a doctor, especially in the face of a rising new Covid wave.

I'll just tell you now, tomorrow I may well do battle with maintenance. I bought a new towel assembly to replace the el-cheapo unit in the bathroom. John, Mr. Maintenance, told me I had to buy anything I wanted and he'd install it. My apartment, my purchase.

So I made him a nice list: put up the towel bar, bring screws to repair three kitchen cupboard doorpulls. After one, I tested all and found three door pulls are short the bottom screw! Then he can straighten out my Netflix and Hulu, and finally, rehang the clock Beth climbed a stool to take down to change the battery, but even tiptoes wouldn't get her high enough to replace it.

Stuck for a title, but a lot to write about

I've been in my new home for three weeks, I think. I'm no good at that sort of calculation. And, my new glasses need some serious adjusting! I wonder why that fact sprang into my head as a factor. I just wrestled with the calendar and concluded Saturday, September 30th  was the two week anniversary, and I can add the weeks since then. Or, I moved four weeks ago, and am quite settled (easy enough in three hundred odd square feet and divested of a reasonable amount of furniture).

Today is a beautiful day with sunshine through the cat's window. No cat, yet, but it's definitely on my mind. The rules say I need a pet  deposit of $250. We all know how well the rules are implemented here. 

For instance, residents are issued a call button immediately on moving in. Mine was several days in appearing and in that time I  was locked out, without the button and without a phone. I had to be very cautious about doors, for outside doors are locked at 5:00 p.m. 

I found it an amusing adventure, finding things to hold to as I worked my way (hopefully) to the reception area, through a very large building with two atriums that could be indoors or outdoors.

But back to the present! My little bottle of quarters took quite the hit on Friday, the only day I was able to play. I won the first game, but so few of us had appeared I barely broke even, and it was downhill from there. The players had a good time joshing they finally had stopped the new girl from wiping them out!

Beth works just a short distance from here, making impromptu visits a pleasant option, if it weren't for the five p.m. door problem. All outside doors are kept locked at all times except the front door, which is staffed at all times.

Most "independent" residents come and go at all times, so the outside doors are accessible by a key pad code. Here is the emergency exit plan for my section of the second floor.

I sized this "extra-large" to highlight details. There I am in room JN. The details are completely discernable; the hall into the living area, the closet/bedroom. The large square to the right on entering is my bathroom, and a small closet. The diagonal area is my kitchen; refrigerator, sink, counter, stove top.

To use the elevator on a normal day, I turn right down the long hall, then left to the end. There are three more apartments here and the stairs or the elevator at the end of the hall. There is another diagram on the first floor to indicate the exit.

The notation "car" indicates the direction the car's parking lot. The stairwell/elevator on this first floor exit into a hallway to more rooms and via short halls to North Aurora Road parking lots. The smaller hall leads to the pool, an atrium, the Bistro, the dining hall, the library.

 

A survey of the lades and other exhilarating news

Where have I been? Even I don't know. I probably am back. I believe I'm getting over sleeping a lot. (That last fall took a lot out of me.) Serious construction has begun on the atrium/addition outside my window. It began Monday at 7 a.m. For a person who does not get up before 8 a.m. and doesn't finish breakfast until 10 a.m., it's unnerving to have the bed shaking about 7 a.m.

The equipment is monstrously sized. I've taken pictures for Margaret's grandson. There is no Digger he is not in love with.

Just getting this fellow on site causes silverware to rattle. But what a digger! One more and I'll let go the topic.

The digger at work. The bucket is filled, rotates 180 degrees and dumps into the dirt hauling truck, which eventually is filled and leaves to dump the load into a holding pile on the edge. 

Beth stopped by one day after work. One more time I had set off the  alarm, that we are asked to wear. I cannot bear it around my neck. I invariably have set it off on the first belt loop, and on the second belt loop. I decided a lanyard might work and asked Beth if they used them where where she worked. 

Short answer, No, but she encountered an engineer who had just tossed one from a conference. They emptied the wastebasket and retrieved it. She came to put the damned buzzer on it and install the affair over my head. It dropped down to exactly where I would activate it against the sink.

Beth wanted to tie a knot to shorten it. I nixed that idea. "Well, just drop it in your bra." That is ideal. No pressure on my neck; it doesn't hang out the bottom.

The social calendar is quite active; someone puts out a bulletin at the beginning of each month. There is Bingo most every day, and I showed up the first time my apartment was clean enough and so was I. It was interesting. Each Bingo yielded a Bistro Buck, redeemable at the Bistro, a small, in-house cafe. Everyone who accumulated four in a row in any game won a Hershey kiss. I had a sizable accumulation of dark Hershey kisses.

I appeared the next day for Bingo, and learned every day but one is Bingo for quarters. Each player puts a quarter in the cup to open each game, and the winner gets the cup of quarters.  For a game of Bingo covering each square, each player contributes five quarters.

There were ten of us playing, so the pot was a heavy cup of quarters. I often am a board game trash talker, but this time was more and more quiet.  Especially no looking around to see who had three squares left to fill, two, one, until Bingo and I had won the biggest pot of my life.

On that note, I'll end and hope to be back sooner. Yes, I am weaving. Plenty to talk about later.

This is post 1801! I don't yet know what it is about

Today I had housekeeping, went to the doctor, picked up scripts and spent a bit of money. Housekeeping had a method, so I just stayed out of the way. They asked for laundry soap and were so excited at my sheets of soap ("Now only use one sheet! That's what the commercial says!"). Earth Breeze is the brand I settled on after I researched to learn how they are manufactured. 

Housekeeping vacuums, dusts (edges), mops floors and launders sheets and towels. When I came home to the neatly folded extras, I had to laugh. I said my laundry detergent was at the bottom of my laundry basket and on the way down they extracted all the wash clothes. Next time I will have them stop laundry at bedding. 

My errand when I left the doc's was to pick up a handful of scripts. The pharmacist is closed from 2 to 2:30, and I got there at two exactly. So I took some pictures.

I knew we were short on rain, but looking for a nice red tree was getting difficult.

This tree was the color above the stripe. I was close to directly in the sun, could barely see the subject and think I swiped my finger across.

This is a picture of an illuminated cloud, out my "side yard", overlooking the muddy yard. Seriously, this is the site of the addition, to be complete in spring. Much of the mud will be more grass, surrounded by an arc of apartments.

Anyway, back to the drugstore, the clerk arrived at 2:30 and gave me the total for my three scripts. It was $143.00. I extended my hand with folded over bills and said "Be careful; there are two quarters in there." She shooed my hand back, saying "I don't need the fifty cents." I assured her she did, and in extending my hand further, dropped the quarters.

No one was behind, so I wasn't flustered. I assured her she did need the quarters and retrieved them. When we were face to face again I told her the sale was part cash and part card, also folded in the cash. She spent a long time explaining why she had thought me wrong. No one was behind, so I listened patiently.

She opened the drawer to receive the cash and found three dollar bills, abandoned. "I wonder how these got here; I haven't used this drawer all morning." No one was behind, so I listened patiently.

She handed out the scripts and then the card. She let go the card long before I reached for it, so once again I leaned way out of the car and retrieved the card I'd received only a week ago in the mail. The strip side slid along the pavement as I picked it up. I hope it works next time. The clerk apologized profusely. No one was behind, so I listened while she went on and I remembered to ask her for Zyrtec that the doctor suggested I try. 

This time the transaction completed smoothly, and I pulled forward to put away the card while she took care of the customer who was now behind me. As I pulled away and could see, suddenly there were three or four cars in the line. I wonder if they were treated to a little chat.

Another day

Actually, it is nearly the end of another week. The activity I booked most of the week has been sleep. So the list of cat attributes include some fussing about and some talking. 

Jan and Tom just left. I bought a mat for under my desk chair. It came rolled into a tight club. I began the unroll by putting it on the heater. The directions suggested a hair dryer and I settled for the biggest air dryer I could see. When I came back, the mat was on the floor and a little unrolled. It spent the week under a movable chair and today it was disposed of.

Here it is where it belongs, under the desk chair, secured by the desk legs. My glass is back in a window (the cat's window):

Here is the other set of windows, over on the weaving half (or more) of the room.

You can see something muddy outside that window. The mud is from raining every night, and sometimes during the day. That has not deterred big bulldozers and little cat units which have been shifting dirt every day.

I've watched them bury a big concrete pillar, fasten a pipe to it and another pipe and pillar the other end and so on. Come next spring they may have another set of independent living units, with gardens, built.

A final "me" note of interest, and I'm outta here. I had a haircut. There are two hair dressers here and I decided what the heck. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. The Friday hair dresser is Sue.

The Saturday cutter is Audrey. When this interesting razor cut has been exhausted, I'll give Audrey a go. 

No one knew I had such a large bruise when all the fluff covered it. 

Shuffling a bit ragged

Hello, all. I wrote last the middle of last week, Wednesday. Since then I just kept straightening. As Shelly's muscular, furniture moving friend said, "You've made it look homey". Kind of him, and I have. All that needed finished was the loom area, and that happened Sunday. Shelly and I straightened out the entire thread situation and we left it good to go.

Sunday night I rounded up the trash to put outside the door at nine p.m. Shuffling along with my cane and another bag of trash I caught a right toe with a left toe, and holy memory of my last fall, I was down in a perfect face plant. My forehead, my glasses and my nose flat on the tile floor. Also my left knee and right palm. Only my nose broke.

Another ambulance ride, this time about nine-thirty at night. They CT'd my brain and x-rayed my knee and other things they were concerned about. Home about three in the morning. A nurse opened all the doors and the ambulance fellows wheeled me back to my door. I asked them to put out the trash as they left.

I was able to get an eye doctor appointment for today. I learned it has been more than five years since I purchased these frames and lenses. They can do little for the nick in the left lens. You can see it there, at the end of my eye, there on the right. So I bit the bullet and bought $650 worth of new frame and lenses. In two weeks I'll look quite different.

Tomorrow I'll work on an ENT appointment. I doubt anyone would want to mess with a broken nose right now. I was thinking you all must be pretty fed up with such a disastrous specimen. The good news is, nothing broke but my nose. The worst bit of that is being stuffy and the trail of blood I managed to keep on the tile. When I came home from the hospital, it was cleaned up. 

So between my bouts of drama, I have registered to vote! Clearing the most important jobs off my desk first! I probably should get an absentee ballot, but I can't do that until I know my name is registered on the polls.

We should also be thinking long and hard about our Florida and Canadian east blogger friends. Knowing they are loved can help when facing a storm stronger than they are. Now I'll post this and go read blogs.