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.