Queen_Mum

Tight Spot (a Cautionary and Impolitic Tale from Beyond)

2008-05-12T23:50:00.006-05:00

Mom gave me this worn out yellowed copy of a story she wrote in college when I was first experiencing boys. Boys whom she gave nicknames. One was "The Python" for his kissing technique.

TIGHT SPOT

Every virtuous female finds herself at one time or often in a situation known by her sisters as a "tight spot." This situation is as inevitable as being born and entails twice the struggle. Some girls thrive on it. They do not realize that they are experiencing a danger more damaging to their maidenly charms than a sagging hipline or inability to put up a good front. They refer to these harrowing situations as "exciting conquests" or LIVING, and are not even aware that they have been in a tight spot until it is too late.

However, for those femmes who do recognize a tight spot and are anxious to edge out of it without marring either face, form, or future we have compiled this page from our handbook of tested methods (tabulated by on-the-spot-virgins) which are guaranteed to provide the cornered coed with the proper response when wedged by some drooling Don Juan into that "tight spot."

Scene: Parked car. Rock Quarry. (Jock has pure, wholesome, angelic etc. tackled in the corner as he gives a graphic description of touch football.)

He: Nobody kisses like you, doll, like nobody ...
She: (Touchback technique. Chapter 5.) Do you know that the whole kissing process is controlled by one muscle ... the aubiculoris oris? Every time you pucker up you owe it all to your aubiculoris oris ...

Scene: Parked car. Second dirt road on the right outside the city limits off Highway 40. (Aggie has young, sweet, innocent etc. cringing in corner as he explains the facts of animal husbandry to her. Sobbing, pleading have proved futile for the young, sweet etc.)

He: When I'm close to you doll, with your sweet face next to mine and your lips so near, I can't breathe.
She: (Chapter 20. You'll wonder where the fellow went.) Now that you've brought it up, Charley, I've often wondered what that peculiar wheezing sound you make sometimes is caused from ...

Scene: Johnston Hall. Front west wall. (Big Frat Cat has untouched, pristine, naive etc. pinned ... figuratively speaking, of course ... against the wall.)

He: You've got to realize doll, the game is played a little faster up here than back home in Filthy Springs, Arkansas. Like live it up!
She: (Chapter 3. Gone with the wind.) Did ah evah tell you about how ah cured mah trench mouth without evah goin' to the doctah?

Scene: Blanket Party. Cosmo Park. (Husky outdoor type faces desperate, fresh, glowing etc. threateningly.)

He: Aw, c'mon doll, that's what blankets are for! Have another can of ...
She: (Chapter 13. When all else fails.) Whoops! How clumsy of me. My, that makes things all soggy, doesn't it?

Mom's First Article in Showme, Reprinted in Campus Humor

2008-04-29T23:18:00.011-05:00

The Mizzou campus magazine was named "Showme" and here is the contributor's page for the first issue that ran Mom's humor.

Click the photo of the contributors page to read it.

It's such a cute photo of her.

I made a silkscreen based on this photo.

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Here's the cover of the magazine that did the reprint:

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And here's the article. Again, click each page to read it.

Blog from Beyond, Part One

2008-04-22T21:58:00.007-05:00

Editor's note: This is the first column in our series honoring the pre-blog writing skills of the Late Queen Mum. This is from the 9/28/55 edition of the Harris Collegian, when she was 19.

The Colyum
by Marge, Girl Revolutionist

To state the matter bluntly, I'm fed up with standing in line. To state it emphatically I'm chock-full, saturated. crammed and replete with standing in line. In the short time since school has begun I have (by actual authenticated count) been a member of ten massive, protracted, elongated, unparalleled lines. I do not like to stand in lines. Right now if Marlon Brando came to Harris especially to play the bongo drums for me I wouldn't even stand in line to see Him. I'm sorry, Marlon, but I feel this bitter experience has warped me for life. I shall never again go to a show, shop at a super-market, ride an escalator, do the Bunny Hop, or indulge in any of the other harmless pleasures which involve rows of people because of the line-phobia I've developed.

I do not profess to be the only line-phobic in school; I realize there are hundreds. You can recognize them because now, even when they're not in a line, they unconsciously shift their weight from one foot to the other to ease the load; they appear to be craning their necks for someone to come back from lunch, or a coffee break, or wherever these people who keep lines waiting on them do go; and they have a certain tense expectant manner as if primed to shout "I AM!" to the laconical question, "Who's next?"

The fact that there must be lines for order is obvious; I don't deny their value in keeping down cases of mob damage, fainting, bodies being crushed underfoot, etc. My argument is this: Must we stand in line?

My own personal solution is quite elementary my dear Watsonians. Tomorrow I am bringing a camp-stool to Harris. It is collapsible and has a charming vari-hued striped canvas seat. It will fit very snugly into my roomy locker and the next line-up (school) I go to I shall have it clasped firmly under my arm. After taking my place in the "procession" I shall unfold my stool and camp. During my two or three day siege of prosaic heel-cooling, I shall make signs like "Are You a Line-Keeper-Waitinger?" or "Join Our Line. See the Back of Someone Else's Head!" or "Why Be Half Safe? Join Our Line, By Tomorrow You May Need What You'll Be Standing In Line For."

I have tried talking to my fellow linees to while the time away but I have found it more expedient to talk to my pet lavender gopher, Fred. The minute Fred and I start chatting the length of the line goes down considerably. (They don't know Fred is invisible and even when I tell them it still makes them nervous.) Of course, Fred is only useful the first few hours, after that all that remain are a bunch of die-hards who just won't give up.

I hope my solution will be a help to the other line-phobiacs, if not, a petition has been started to have one of our Psych professors do some mass analysis. All you have to do is sign up; the line forms at the rear.

Timberrrrrrrrrr!

2007-06-10T11:33:00.000-05:00

Two massive pin oak trees are being removed from their curbside place in front of my ranch style home. Cleaning up the acorns and leaves has become too expensive. The pin oaks hold their dead leaves during winter only releasing them now and then to be sure your lawn looks a mess. The acorns are a hazard underfoot. The sidewalk is broken and heaved up by roots which are heading for the cement slab my house rests on.

The trees are over 100 feet tall and if my arms worked I could touch my own fingers if two of me were hugging the same tree. But obviously I am no tree hugger. I have nagged City Hall relentlessly to get rid of these trees. Yesterday three fellows cut branches and chipped up the wood. Men in trees. Turn off the television.

Viva La Queen

2007-06-07T12:41:00.000-05:00

My mother never gave out information about reproduction and I never asked. When I was nine I heard her apologize to a guest for not being able to offer napkins at lunch so I proudly retrieved the sanitary napkins from the bathroom and plunked them down on the table.

All information I got was referenced to animal behavior with embarrassed distain and disgust. Her wedding night was a bloody humiliation. The marital act was a duty performed but never enjoyed.

So I read all the books in the sixties and introduced conversations about sex to my children in nurturing ways. I thought I had covered the subject admirably when one day the Queen arrived home after a sixth grade movie about sex.

"Horrible!' Why didn't you tell me about this stuff?" she accused.

So I wasn't surprised when I had to prove to her that her maternal background was French. My word was not enough. And although my vision was blurred due to an eye examination she insisted I find the written reference before she would admit she was wrong.

Last night Gary's butt phoned my house three times. When I phoned him to tell him to stop sitting on his pager blackberry gizmo, I let myself engage in a brief discussion of how Q was mis-reporting grandmother information. Gary jumped at the chance to say she should not blog at all as the girls where he worked did not want to be mentioned on her blog.

Well, she did call them the P---- Posse but she did not get into their nationality. If she had called them Germans I can see why they might have been steamed but P---- Posse is harmless fun. Viva La Queen!

Queen_Mum Vs. Wild

2007-06-02T13:19:00.000-05:00

When people don't post daily, faithful readers query, " Is she sick? Did she fall?" But sickness or falling would be grist for a post. There is no grist at this old persons mill.

I eat whatever one lame index finger can snag and propel to the mouth. I read blogs. I sleep long and deep. And I watch television.

I just watched the Discovery Channel "Man vs. Wild" where I learned to bite off the bodies of ants for valuable protein when stranded without food in the wild. I was told to never ingest the ant head as its savage mandibles can inflict great pain.

The very same week I read a blog where people duped an ant colony from invading their house by creating a barricade using dishwashing detergent. Coinkydink? Or grist.

Memorial weekend there was a M/Wild marathon and I learned when I am stranded on the African savannah without water all I need to do is locate some fresh elephant dung. This can be squeezed mightily over the mouth until the life saving fluid is released. Splash! Dehydration prevented.

The next step is to observe vultures so full from scavenging zebra carcass they cannot fly. This assures Man the kill is recent. So just go to it and smell. If it doesn't smell rotten go ahead and dig in. He ate the zebra raw but I might want to build a cooking fire. Just need to be sure to keep flint in my pocket in case my matches got wet.

LIFE AMONG LIARS

2007-05-24T16:02:00.000-05:00

When I worked in an office I never left for the day without cleaning my desk off. Phone numbers were kept on a Rolodex and a month-at-a-glance calendar was filled out and followed. In my day there was ignorance and incompetence but nobody I worked with lied.

Things are different nowadays. This old lady I've become can't read her own handwriting. Can't hold a phone to her ear. Looks at a date and writes it on the wrong month. Last week I organized all my names and phone numbers on a page on the computer. BIG. This week I started following up on who dropped the ball on my feeding apparatus. The world famous post-polio rehabilitation doctor DID send a Letter of Medical Necessity to Amanda, O.T. Twice. The O.T. department isn't answering the phone. The letters will be faxed to Angie so she can submit to Medicare for denial. She may be the ball-dropper.

In the meantime I tried to eat a spinach salad yesterday unsuccessfully. Today it took an hour to get a slice of banana nut bread to my mouth and it has been an uphill battle since then. The tastiest thing I've eaten this week was a bratwurst and twice baked potato Sherrie brought me when she did my hair. Brats 'N Beauty. It works for me. I wish her shop sold durable medical equipment. No lie.

Follow the Bouncing Ball

2007-05-18T17:59:00.000-05:00

I've spent the last few days sorting though the ball box to see what needs to be done to get back in the game of feeding myself.

Sadly, we are back at square one. Angie, whose company installs the Mobile Arm Support With Elevation Assist, will request a letter of medical necessity from the post-polio rehabilitation specialist. When he gets it to her she will forward it to Medicare for denial. This was supposed to have happened 4 months ago.

I'm not sure the fellow knows who I am. So I'm thinking of sending a note and attaching my picture. Today I scrabbled through my jotted notes and phone numbers and made up a large print page for the computer. My handwriting is as bad as my eyesight so now it will be easier to follow-up (nag) people.

My neighbor Archie who mows my lawn is going to have knee surgery in July and be laid up until October. People who have mowed for me in the past charge a flat rate for the mow plus whatever they choose to add on to the bill for the price of gasoline. I have a perfectly good Toro mower that is battery powered. They won't use it. Too quiet?

Could be depressing but fortunately the sun is shining and happy little burbles of pleasure keep erupting from my brain.

Downhill Slope

2007-05-14T14:07:00.000-05:00

This has been a downhill year. I just called to find out the status of my "Mobile Arm Support With Elevation Assist" and it appears Amanda O.T. no longer works at the hospital who authorized my need for it December 26,2006. Like she dropped the ball. So someone from there is looking in the missing ball box to see if they can get me back in the game.

When Queen was here yesterday she devised food I can snag with my left index finger and get to my mouth. Turkey chunks, cheese chunks and cherry tomatoes. I'm going to show the only existing picture of my left hand because I always hid it because it was lame. This picture was 10 years ago. Cute huh?

Anyway, this left arm has a working elbow muscle and an index finger that can't open but mostly clamps shut like a lobster claw. So everything I eat has to be snag-worthy. My staple edibles of chili, cereal and oatmeal surprise me by not falling into the snag-worthy category. They require endless scooping, raising and lifting by right hand. Too much work most mornings.

I haven't eaten Cheetos corn-puffs in years but opened a big can last night and adroitly nabbed half the can. For someone who has eschewed fast food for years this may turn into a slippery slope.

Post-polio Weight Loss Plan

2007-05-12T12:01:00.000-05:00

I've been reading disability blogs and everyone seems to be miserable in different ways. I guess people would rather live with their own discomfort than someone else's. I feel lucky not to have to deal with arthritis or toothache pain.

It's been four months since a request was made to Social Security for a device to attach to my wheelchair which will assist me in shoveling food in my mouth. When they deny me the device then and only then will my private insurance pick up 80% of the tab and send it to me.

Some think outraged calls should be made demanding action. But there is no point in being agitated. As long as I can spear food with a fork I can get it to my mouth so I won't starve. However, it's surprisingly messy to eat cake or cookies with a fork.

Hosta La Vista Baby

2007-05-06T13:01:00.000-05:00

I'm feeling quite smug about posting these garden pictures from 1995. Todays picture is of the shady side. The birch tree is now blighted by some disease that caused removal of six larger birch trees out front in 1991. This one will just have to rot or blow down. There are no wires or valuables beneath it.

The Hosta Negrens has been separated many times and shared with friends. As hostas go this is a big variety. It isn't as tasty to Brer Rabbit and is still alive. Painted Japanese ferns,astilbe and bleeding heart were in this circle surrounded by miniature daffodills. I haven't ventured down there in three years so I'm not sure what remains.

i spent a decade crawling around this bed trying to achieve a look that equaled the catalogues. Never happened. But it did give me interests and exercise.

Ferns of Yesteryear

2007-05-05T14:05:00.000-05:00

It has taken me all this time to scan and post a picture on my own.

There may be a picture of ferns here. If you can see them it's only because someone took a picture. This shady bit of the yard was once fluffy with ferns. Rabbits devoured every last frond and spore. People talk about the damage goats and deer do but rabbits are my enemies.

Reach Out and Spill Something

2007-05-04T11:07:00.000-05:00

The microwave sat in the corner of the counter for 30 years. Recently I found it difficult to lift food up the four inch lip of the appliance and onto the glass turntable. I was mulling over solutions to this problem when my beautician/friend Sherry suggested placing it on a lower surface.

In a second she whipped it over to a serving cabinet and swept up the debris that was behind it at its old spot. I spent the next day trying to get used to the change.

If it stays with its back to the wall it is awkward to open. But the server top is heat resistant so the hot dish has a landing space. At right angles it is easier to access but the UGLY back and cord is exposed to the entire room. And the front has no ledge as the micro is an exact fit. Without a ledge for a landing spot my hope of avoiding a boiling spill catastrophe is doomed.

I do have a large acrylic tray that could go under it and extend out. I'll try this today. If it works then I need to dig out the book to see if covering the microwave back with a camouflaging dishtowel would cause it to explode. In the meantime nutritional drinks and bars constitute my meals.

It seems like for every solution there is a new problem. That may be why husbands and cats resist change.

What Is Going On?

2007-05-03T13:12:00.000-05:00

I'm trying to figure out why I don't have time to blog. My conclusion is I start out reading blogs. I like them and go back and read their archives. They link to other blogs so I read those and their archives and so it goes. I know more about these people than my own relatives. I would sooner comment on a blog than answer a personal email.

In the UK there is a site where folks with disabilities write about the subject every May. I am spooked by this because there are some politically incorrect attitudes about disability I have that I never thought of.

When I was 13 people said hurtful things: "You used to be pretty before you had polio" but I never challenged them. It was what they thought. I preferred words to sad eyes. I can't get mad at ignorance.

One of the things I don't understand is why disabled friends want to have the world revamped to include us. There are lots of places I can't go so I don't. This attitude infuriates disabled activists who want access to everything. Presently I'm having to rethink everything I do in this house to keep it accessible as I decline.

Bachelor Creeper

2007-04-24T11:56:00.000-05:00

Q. figured out how to add pictures to my blog Saturday. I took careful notes because there is no rational way to remember the convoluted steps necessary to duplicate the procedure.Every weekend I will attempt to add another photo. One always does best by practice.

After I had upper and lower spinal fusion in 1989 I spent the next decade gardening and reading gardening books. I was dazzled by the plant descriptions and photos in those books. My place never measured up.

I had a rusted shed demolished and made plans for a simple pergola on the 9x12 concrete slab left behind. Carpenters in this area drew elaborate plans for gazebos but even when I showed them pictures they couldn't manage a pergola.

I had read of a new type of material made out of recycled plastic. I called around and found someone who knew about it. He came out and built a sort of house shell and attached trellis to it. The first strong wind the trellis became air born. After much puzzlement on his part he stopped taking my calls. I bought some metal S hooks and Q. hung the trellis on the rafters with them. From a distance it looks nice.

I planted many vines around the trellis house. The only one that survived was an ornamental kiwi. He doesn't bloom or bear fruit. To do so would require a Female kiwi. I bought him two. Mr. Kiwi did not provide for either Mrs. Kiwi and both ladies died. Currently he lives a bachelors life by a corner post without mate or progeny. I have yet to view his "pink and white variegated foliage....a charmer on trellis, posts or walls."

Another Test

2007-04-21T19:57:00.000-05:00

Trellis house.

2007-04-17T14:20:00.000-05:00

I've been reading blogs lately.
At first I just read Q's blog. Then blogs that linked to hers. Then MS blogs. Then Great Britain. Then disability. What placed a big black DOOMED on my forehead was when I began reading the archives of my favorites. And these folks post daily!

One of my saddest days was when I realized I had read every word my favorite English fiction authors had written. Now reading The Perorations of Lady Bracknell and Charles Dawson's blogs every day gives me something to mull on. They are so real to me I lap up each bowl of words like one of their kittens.

What this does is make one feel that others say it better. And with more acerbic eloquence. So once a week is all I am motivated to write. Until I've read every blog on everything and the subsequent comments.

2007-04-11T12:43:00.000-05:00

The Queen accompanied me to the Physical Terrorists office Tuesday. PT appeared to need a translator for MomSpeak. The issue of making atrophied muscles work didn't come up. She has apparently lost interest in bringing right arm back to life.

An exercise regime was developed for walking through the house twice a day for 3 minutes. Just walking to the bathroom takes care of that. Another is flopping my left forearm over and under and up and down. Shoulder shrugs were instituted. Something like 10 or 20 repetitions or twenty for ten. I forget exactly.

I get bored with keeping track of repetition statistics. I am easily distracted from the count. Maybe I could ask myself questions on my 3 minute walkabouts to the bathroom and shrug when I don't have the answers. The flopping fore arm has no productive purpose.

When I had polio and was 100% paralyzed the first movement that came back was my left forearm. "Look at this," I'd say "It's back." By the time my parents arrived at the hospital I had worn it out. But they believed me and were encouraged.

They never expected I'd live to 70 much less be doing exercises to develop my biceps.

2007-04-05T14:19:00.000-05:00

When my daughter writes so freely about subjects that in the fifties were not discussed, I wonder. "How did she get so confident and open?" I can only remember two things that happened to me that I didn't dare tell my mother. When Dan and I were dating at the University we spent 30 minutes in his Plymouth kissing good night at the end of a date. He was only the second fellow I had dated and kissed in a car. I don't believe I had been educated in the physiological changes that occur in a man when aroused. So the kissing part was what I was developing my expertise in when Whoops! his hand shot under my skirt and up my thigh.

"A pass!" I squawked. I was delighted. "Let's go back to the dorm right now."
"Are you mad?" he asked.
"Not in the least. I want to tell everyone at the dorm someone FINALLY made a pass at me." And I did. He never tried it again nor did anyone else. I failed in the repeat pass department. Squawking must affect the male condition somehow.

Fast forward 10 years one ex-husband and two children and a reunion and marriage to Dan. I got a job as a social worker and presented a case study to a group of dignitaries and juvenile court commissioners. When I got back to the office one of the commissioners called me to compliment me on the presentation. I was proud. But he kept complimenting me until I had a dim thought he wanted something. He had lots of questions about where I hung out and where we might meet again.

During the questioning I mentioned my husband and children and I went to the library a lot. Eventually it dawned on me he was interested in ME. I blushed from my toes up. A coworker saw me and asked who I was talking with to upset me so. I should have squealed " A pass. Some little fart made a pass!" But that was the seventies and I felt I had given the wrong signal when I presented my case. Sincerity must be a turn on to Juvenile Commissioners. Another lesson learned.

2007-04-04T15:31:00.000-05:00

My mother married beneath her. My dad completed second grade and dropped out of school to help on the farm. When mother married him at age 17 she was ridiculed by his family because of her "airs". She learned to say yaller instead of yellow and became comfortable around curse words.

She always regretted this and said sincerely that by the time she realized what she had done, the habits were impossible to break. She was so proud her children had not taken on her bad habits. Little did she know she would be QUOTED by her beloved granddaughter as saying "horsesh**t" in reference to a post about Masons. It would have pained her.

My sister Dolores Charlotte would have preferred the nickname "Dee". She referred to herself as Dee but couldn't generate any interest. Other people tried to nickname her "Lolly" but she squashed that. She would have loved that her only niece did not spell her name correctly in the blog. DElores is that much closer to Dee. And more distant than Dolores...Child of Sorrow. Of course nowadays no one in their right mind would risk naming a child Dolores....rhymes with Seinfeld.

2007-04-02T15:09:00.000-05:00

The myofascial physical therapy continues twice a week thanks to transportation by friend Sue. I would have backed off after the first visit. Last session I was lectured on my attitude. I have always faced facts. If polio destroyed nerve endings and resulted in muscles atrophying then get over it. Move on.

But PT lady does not agree with the World Famous polio specialist I go to. She thinks I am letting lack of use due to old age affect my strength. W.F. specialist said "Go. Try it. What can it hurt?" To me it is as frustrating as holding a book really close to a blind persons eyes and insisting they can read. Not going to happen. But there goes that negative attitude of mine. I was only 13 when a friend tried to get me to a faith healer. Didn't happen.

"Every day in every way I'm getting better and better." What can it hurt?

On a more positive note I tied for first place on Lady Bracknell's blog amidst stiff competition. The win allowed me the privilege of being smug and I CACKLED when I read that my post made her ladyship laugh. But then I realized the win was announced on April Fools Day. Co-inky-dink? Or that dry English wit?

2007-03-28T15:15:00.000-06:00

My "spells" have ceased. Many doctors were consulted and Neurontin dosage tinkered with until a week ago when I decided spells were not as bad as drug dizziness. Whatever was pinching adorable little wristy nerve endings tapered off and stopped. My lame left hand no longer does the fandango. It just hangs off the frail arm like a spent dancer. Trembly and shy.

This month began physical therapy involving myofaschia pressure. The therapist is of course on the opposite side of town. Sue drives me. The therapist started out slowly but yesterday she launched an attack on arm muscles that had not moved since 1949. Most therapists are not interested in atrophied sinews but this gal dotes on them. She longs to train the Queen Daughter to do them. Today I rested. Tomorrow more pushing and stretching. She seems to be trying to teach the arms the Boogaloo.

2007-03-09T13:31:00.000-06:00

Both arms stopped working this month. Usually Lefty drags Righty over to whatever needs gripping. Once it is at the spot desired, magic happens. Plastic is plopped into the micro and food zapped. Nowadays lifting the arm and container up four inches is beyond Lefty. Could the plastic Lifeline alarm on my wrist be weighing him down? No.

On a happier note I got the results of my physical back and the fasting blood work showed no diabetes. Sue just placed 16 variety drumsticks in my freezer. If Lefty or Righty let me down I might be able to snag one with the Grab Stick. Then 15 minutes hacking through the plastic and bob'syouruncle!

I am reading MS blogs and found one where the writer was lame on her right side and fell, breaking her left wrist. Her description of the fall just cheered me up tremendously. Her fall was caused by a kitten. When I broke my right upper arm,elbow and wrist it was caused by a puppy. But my account 10 years ago would not have cheered others up.

I think if God has a chance to do it over he should build his humans with pop up gauges like Honeysuckle turkeys. That way you would know when you were done.

2007-03-03T12:29:00.000-06:00

I will now share my technique for melting pounds off old frames.

Step 1: Make your right arm hang limply by your side.
Step 2: Make your left hand dangle limply from your wrist.
Step 3: Have your new doctor schedule a blood test where you fast 12 hours before the test.

Because I knew this test was coming I started eating oatmeal for breakfast most mornings beginning Feb.1. Then late afternoon a frozen nutritious dinner prepared by Sue. Evenings a tangerine or Granny Smith apple, cheese, with chocolate graham cracker. Because the Helping Agency kept coming in and out I didn't have a lot of time to think about food and even if I did it was just too much work to shovel it in my mouth.

So when I weighed in on March 2, I was 128 pounds. Very pleased about that. Test results come later.
When I got home i ate:
Pat's vanilla bean cherry tea cake
3 Russell Stover chocolates
Bacon and biscuits
Stew and biscuits

Shoveling it in my mouth didn't seem as onerous.

2007-02-28T17:04:00.000-06:00

The Queen got me hooked up with Bloglines today. Now I will be able to see who has posted recently. I tend to be outraged if a dedicated blogger skips a day. I do not hold myself to the same standards I hold others, you will notice.

Every time Q uses my computer it takes a while for the Apple Cube I use to recover from the taint of an outsider. Computers are like cars in this way. Every time someone drove my car it took forever to get the mirrors straight and the seat adjusted. Same with the Apple. At least I don't have the problem of running out of gas.

2007-02-27T12:02:00.000-06:00

While eating my oatmeal this morning I watched a young white boy sing a song from Dream Girls. He sang so loud and hard I wondered he might injure himself. I like gospel singing but it seemed odd coming from such a little peanut fellow. He was discovered on U-tube.

In my teens we liked Eddie Fisher. At the height of his popularity we went to a performance at the Fox. Everyone began screaming. I was surprised to find myself screaming too. It went on the whole performance. We drowned out Oh My Papa. He introduced his fiancee Debbie Reynolds who was seated in the audience. We screamed louder. Afterwards I realized how dumb it was to pay to hear someone and not listen.

The little fellow who sang the Dream Girl song will never be drowned out by his audience. But he's due for hernia repair if he keeps on singing like hefty black women.

2007-02-26T10:55:00.000-06:00

After a month of visits The Helping Agency will be phasing me out. Getting everybody scheduled and not overlapping has been beyond my ability. I have always blocked out days of the week for certain things. Monday cleaning, Tuesday Hairdo, Wednesday lunch date, Friday Breakfast with the Gang of Five. Doctor's visits are sprinkled randomly. The Helpers keep muscling into my planned time.

They have found a nice place for me to live that is $1,500 more per month than my income. One of the brochures has white haired people in boats laughing their brains out as they speed on the river. They promise fun and activity. I'm looking for neither.

I want to sleep as long as I want. Retired people should not have to set their alarms to be told how to live. I get it.

2007-02-24T09:35:00.000-06:00

Yesterday was the first day this week I did not have professional help coming. These folks have just about worn me out.

They call a lot. Usually the night before or morning of the appointment. They come at times I have other things I prefer to do like fix breakfast. They make work for me such as going to the door (they don't want it left open for them) and locking it when they leave.

They use extra towels and washcloths on me which I have to launder. They clutter up my kitchen table with their logs and folders. They will finish up their Medicare financed assignment next week. It has been helpful because now when I hire someone for personal care I know what to ask for.

This morning I made a big pot of Columbian coffee. I added half and half and sweetener to the pot. I have some little pint glass bottles that at one time held Starbucks frappachino. I filled those using a funnel then capped and refrigerated them. I don't resent drinking coffee from a straw if is prepared this way.

I made a big bowl of oatmeal in the microwave. I used half and half instead of water. I ate one serving and refrigerated three. All this preparation took 2 1/2 hours. I emptied and filled the dishwasher and by noon was able to go to the computer and read the Queen's blog. This is always the highlight of my morning. The treat I love to chew on the rest of the day.

2007-02-23T13:06:00.000-06:00

I talked to "Sam" at Earthlink earlier this week.

It took him 30 minutes to gather my name, father's middle name etc. He could not repeat my French spelled street address. He put me on hold several times. He is mailing a more up to date DSL modem and not charging for the modem or shipping. He is knocking $10 off my bill next month. Then he INSISTED I be HAPPY!

Sam: Are you happy?
M.E.: No.
Sam: [Lists all he has given me.] You are happy NOW Margaret.
M.E. : I have wasted hours on the phone. I am not happy.
At this point he berates me for not being happy.

So I gave him terrible marks on an evaluation that came right after the call and added this :

"Since 2/11/07 I have been patronized and hung up on by people at Earthlink. My passwords are compromised and I have been expected to remain on the phone for long periods of time.

"Five days without service is unacceptable. I cannot be made happy. To hear "Sam Daniels" insist that I be happy is insulting. To be happy I need real customer service; not lip service.

"My suggestion is that you establish a supervisor who can be called on when your first line staff is unable to help a Valued Customer. I kept notes on the people I talked to and only two bothered to write up a trouble ticket. Of those only 'Jason' followed up."

Today the new modem was hurled on my porch by Fed Ex. It did not make me happy. While I was typing this my connection failed twice.

2007-02-22T10:46:00.000-06:00

I'm not used to doctors calling my home after dark. The neurologist who called last night said I had pinched nerves in both wrists and should start using Nurontin during the day. I didn't ask him the sensible questions others later asked me. He said I did not need to make a followup appointment. Goodbye!

At my initial visit he asked me to remember goofy things. Dalmatian, menu,basketball. I imagined a Dalmatian sitting on a basketball reading a menu. But when I was asked to recall the words later I missed one. Now of course they are filling up valuable real estate in my brain. I can't forget them. And no future opportunity with Dr. Neurologist to casually drop into the conversation a witty reference about the spotted dog who could balance on balls and read menus. Another artery filled with medical debris.

I see the polio rehab/physiatrist next week. He is also a night caller. But i'll be ready. One reference to Dalmatians and I'm hanging up my basketball.

2007-02-21T10:50:00.000-06:00

Six weird things about me:

1] I think men are more interesting than women.

2] I don't need to be loved by an animal to feel lovable.

3] Rearranging furniture gives me immense satisfaction.

4] I hate the cold/exposed feeling of uncovered neck and shoulders anytime.

5] I could spend all my time cleaning and de-cluttering and feel complete.

6] Food no longer interests me.

2007-02-20T13:14:00.000-06:00

Watched Six Feet Under last night on Bravo channel. They show you three shows back to back which I can't stay up for. They show them again Saturday morning so I can catch up on the ones aired past my bedtime on Monday nights.

I like the fact they dub epithets in the actors actual voice. You can see what they really are saying by reading their lips but you don't have to hear it. This suits me. I don't like curse words. it shows ignorance of language. An inability to communicate. Similarly "you know" "ahhh" "like" and so forth are tiresome.

The show constantly interests me. Currently the mother has married James Cromwell (character actor in "Babe"). He is shown demonstrating how to use a ceramic "nettie pot" which irrigates the sinus with salt water. I have heard about this device and had no idea what it looked like. It is like a gravy boat. Question answered.

I watched "Amazing Race" after Sixty Minutes. I'm going to give it a try but I'm thinking it's a little too hectic for my taste. Or maybe it is the music.

2007-02-17T14:02:00.000-06:00

Light snow has covered up paw prints in the deep snow accumulation from last Tuesday. The scenery is refreshed.

Sue brought Great Northern Bean soup and biscuits yesterday. Easy for me to eat from the container she brings it in. She used a recipe which always interests me. How can you go wrong with beans unless you neglect to soak them overnight. Sue added onions,ham and carrots. My mother just used a ham hock which made the taste less sweet.

The only time my dad cooked for us he heated beans while my mom had surgery. He meticulously chopped a fresh tomato to accompany the dish. It still suits my taste when I can find a real tomato. After I was married he showed me how to make "goulash" . It contained spaghetti and hamburger with canned tomatoes. What made it good was the bacon grease you used to brown the onions and meat.

When we were growing up on Caroline Street in the city we had food which we ate until it was gone. Friday was breaded cod with spaghetti. Other dishes like pork liver fried until it was hard. Round "steak" pounded and fried until it chewed like leather. Fresh green beans with new potatoes. Cabbage cooked until it was brown. Chicken and dumplings. Fried chicken.
Side dishes included mashed potatoes and gravy.

My mother never taught me to cook. She was The Cook. The first time she and my stepfather visited in Albuquerque I served ham with a glaze and he complimented me on the glaze. She didn't like that one bit. It was her recipe and he had been eating it for years with nary a word of praise. She snarled at him. He had already insulted her cooking by suggesting she use lemon Jello for pie filling instead of her time consuming recipe using fresh lemons.

These critters scampering around the yard should appreciate their life. They would have been cut up and smothered in gravy when I was a girl.

2007-02-16T13:45:00.000-06:00

The Indian Level Two Tech guy for Earthlink got me online yesterday but the connection is shaky. He opined my 2002 modem is "old". When I feel like waiting for customer support for hours I should request a new one. Apparently you can dicker with them until they are willing to ship one to you free. Or they can disconnect and you are sent back to the beginning. Earthlink is not my friend.

Snow is deep on the ground and temperature in the single digits. The personal care ladies are supposed to come on Monday and Thursday to scrub me down and get me tidy. They have a variety of reasons not to arrive on schedule. 1] Car transmission failed 2] Doctor is going to call to schedule their gallbladder/hernia surgery 3] Last appointment is on the other side of town 4] Confusion on actual time of arrival previously determined

Yesterday the lady called twice to work out a time. I ate early so I could run the dishwasher and she could empty it before my scrub. But she arrived while it was in the middle of things and I had to stop it so it didn't use up the hot water for the shower. After the shower I could have had her run the washer but I didn't feel like putting the washed load in the dryer. As it happened she sat comfortably at my kitchen table while her sister shopped in the neighborhood and got lost coming to pick her up.

The Occupational Therapy Lady comes twice a week. She has been helpful in showing me how to use the sock putter-on-er and getting rid of 30 pair of socks that are too tight for the device. She has worked with me on using the button hook. She made a suggestion for writing more legibly. She took an oversized typing aide with her to heat and fit to my small left hand for the computer.

She lives five minutes from here so schedules me for early or late arrivals. When she stops coming all services stop. The lady nurse came twice and initially said I should be in a nursing home. "You just sell your house and use the money to pay for the Home!" "Why can't I pay people to come here?" Annoyed glare.

The Day of the Big Snow a different nurse who was a guy called and addressed me fondly. "Howya doin' sweetheart? Ya feelin' okay? Do you think you need a nurse?" I've never needed a nurse especially one who calls me sweetheart. But maybe he was calling from a snowdrift somewhere and needed to hear a mother's voice.

If Earthlink and Home Care keep providing services to me a nursing home might start looking good. But I will have to brush up on Senile Dementia. No one with half a mind could endure such well intentioned help.

2007-02-15T13:12:00.000-06:00

The Friday Breakfast With Social Workers was re-named last month. I now call them The Gang of Five. I include myself because I'm one of them but my voice is small.

Sue and Penny were the only regulars as Pat and Carol were out and about elsewhere. Penny took me to the outpatient clinic where I tried out the special wheelchair device that helps frail arms move food from plate to mouth. It's called a deltoid aide. They also had me try using a spoon that was bent and re-shaped and actually seemed usable.

The request for the feeding arm had to be sent to Medicare where it would be denied and then resubmitted to my secondary insurance where verbal assurance was made that it would pay the $450 price IF it was ordered through one of two specific providers.

At some point my electric went off and Penny drove across town and put all my gear in her car. She drove me to where Sue was finishing up her shift as volunteer/employee and moved me to Sue's car. In the meantime my electric came back on and Sue's went off so the Keystone Kops returned to my house and Sue spent the next four days waiting on me hand and foot.

The Queen was trying to take a relaxing cruise during all this and was ready to add me to the BNL fan picture if Social Work failed me.

At some point they decided I needed more services so they got me hooked up with a nurse, occupational therapist and personal care attendant who came to my home. These people have worn me out with their phone calls, home visits and suggestions. Being "discovered" and assited after being disabled for 57 years was puzzling. But on the other hand It got me through January.

2007-02-15T12:22:00.000-06:00

Just when I started blogging once more, my Earthlink DSL went down! I spent 5 days trying to communicate with Indian tech people and was ready to cancel the service but was disconnected before I got transferred to whoever did that.

Today it was working again. Earthlink is not my friend.

2007-02-11T12:15:00.000-06:00

Jumping back into the Blogosphere without a GOOD story to tell.

Every day in January was measured out by television programing time. The same for meals. Lucky for me I seldom watched television until the century turned so many things are new. There are marathons on holidays so you can fill in any gaps that happened when the phone or a visitor disturbed your tv experience.

I have breakfast with The View. They all talk at once and I amuse myself by using closed captioning to see what they are saying. The poor soul who is writing the captions has a confusing time of it but does better than I would. At noon I listen to NPR's Fresh Air if it isn't on during fundraising week. NPR is set on all the house radios... six and one is left on at all times in the garage.

When I used to garden I started leaving it on because most of the tools were stored in the garage. I guess it was company. Now other people pass through the garage and they are unnerved by the unexpected voices. I speculate maybe a criminal would be.

My beautician calls on Tuesdays to tell me she is coming to do my hair and I use the garage door opener to lift the door for her from inside the warm house. She has been coming here for four weeks. Next week we will try a sink permanent. She has set up a darling little mini beauty shop in a rolling cart where she stores her blower,curling iron,shampoo and other supplies. I feel so lucky to have her go to all this trouble for such miserable hair.

Hold on! Beautician coming to your home? GOOD thing.

2007-01-06T13:57:00.000-06:00

i'll post when something GOOD happens.
Don't hold your breath.

2007-01-03T13:21:00.000-06:00

My head was whirling so bad yesterday I could not go to the restorative beauty shop. I got it under control with saline and Musinex.

My internist's office gave me an appointment for today at 11:15. Ellen got me there. She told the doctor, "This is not my mom here." We were told there was no way she could help me in regard to my left side neurological spells.

So I'm going to change to Ellen's doctor who is affiliated with Barnes/Christian Hospitals. And Sherry has given me a late appointment today to turn me back into Ellen's mom.

The electric was off for one hour at 7 am. Pack your flashlight WW.

2007-01-01T09:46:00.000-06:00

It is day one of 2007 and the cleaning woman is coming at 4 pm. She will work at her hospital job for time and a half and top off her day here. Ordinarily she works every other Monday but she can't resist holiday benefits. If Gary and Ellen come earlier the dog and Gary will track in enough dirt to give Tabitha a sense of accomplishment.

This morning I turned my head far to the right and triggered a left arm spell. This is encouraging because it means the problem is definitely on the right side of my neck. I'll see if I can replicate it when Ellen is here. The reason I'm encouraged is if I can replicate it maybe I can control it. Maybe.

One of my presents was a Sharper Image Soap Genie. When you pass your hands under the spout it plays a melodious riff and poofs out hand soap. Very disabled friendly.

2006-12-30T17:06:00.000-06:00

The AT&T guy fixed the HUMMMM in two hours. I had forgotten how amazing it is to hear a call clearly.

I've been thinking about all those poor souls in the ER. Most of them like me, sent there by a doctor who didn't want to deal with their complaints. So we all were taught a lesson. The only thing our hospital ER could provide was a pat on the head and an inflated bill.

2006-12-29T11:41:00.000-06:00

While I was posting yesterday I had a spell at the base of my skull. Large vibration. Called the internist's office and was told to go to ER. Located Ellen who got me there around 11:30 am. The place was a zoo. Drama abounded.
When I finally made it to the fast track rooms and was told I was fine, four hours had elapsed. Others had been there much longer.

Ellen spent the night and worked from my home on a deadline project. I had another left arm spell at 6 pm and again when I was ready for bed.

Today we went for a nerve test in my neck and arms by the polio rehabilitation specialist. After these were done he said my polio damaged muscles were worse but whatever was causing my spells "WAS NOT A PINCHED NERVE".
So bite the bullet when you have 2 seconds of scary vibration or numbness or whatever you are calling it that we don't have a code for.

So until I can describe it in medical jargon I'm clamming up. Ellen's internist has email. I'm thinking of switching to him next year. He has a more central location and his hospital E.R. does not humiliate themselves by saying they have "fast track ER.".

2006-12-28T09:57:00.000-06:00

Tuesday I had a trifecta of arm spells and Wednesday a left arm and leg spell while in the garage. So I'm not recording spells anymore. I did think of calling the doctor but when I picked up the phone the loud HUMMMM reminded me that even Ellen had not been able to navigate AT&T's voice mail or web site.

This time I pressed O and got a human who switched me to another human in Repairs who scheduled me for HUMMMM removal on Saturday. Once the phone works and holiday mode is over... who know what proactive things might take place?

2006-12-26T12:11:00.000-06:00

This year Ellen made a quiche which was wonderful. She was surprised to see a lighted jeweler's loupe as her present. I ordered it from Widgets.com. Owning a Breathalyzer AND diamond viewer should keep her busy at parties.

I got many delicious things to eat. An aqua cordless can opener, hand soap dispenser and personal shower brush scrubber. A complicated spoon feeder that would look good to a non-disabled person but I knew instantly wouldn't work for me. I did try it. A GE analogue speaker phone.

I had a spell in their presence at 3:30 pm and after they left at 6 pm. As I was writing this it happened at noon accompanied by a full arm tremor.

The O.T. girl called to say she would begin the process to get me the mobile arm support. First a letter must go to Medicare. Since the support isn't "coded" it will be denied. Then that denial will be sent to my insurance, First Health, who have said verbally they will pay it but only if it is ordered from Health Link who won't order it until Medicare denies it.

Everyone I've talked to thinks I should buy it up front which means I could get it quicker. But insurance would not reimburse me if I do not go their convoluted path. It would put Tiny Tim in tears but not this hardened State bureaucrat.

2006-12-25T10:04:00.000-06:00

Yesterday was pleasant and I got several calls of good wishes. I meant to make my own calls but the phone was too heavy.
The lady across the street (whom I have not visited with since I stopped mowing my own lawn) came over to catch up. Her daughter just had a baby on December 7. She is still living at home with the child. I said I thought it was great that she blew off the whole get married have babies get a divorce and get saddled with deadbeat dad b.s. This way she can get on with her education and career. Plus there's a grand baby to play with. Don't think my neighbor had looked at it this way but she was pleased.

Friend Hank has visited on Christmas Eve for many years. Last year he brought a lady friend without letting me know. And she took my picture! I was so embarrassed to be caught with my hair uncombed. I mentioned it to someone who repeated it to Hank. So this year he called first and they came later with a box of chocolates.

I baby sat with Hank's dog Daisy when Sue and he took motorcycle trips, so I was sad to hear Daisy died at age 16. Hank buried her at his place at Lake of the Ozarks and made a headstone. She was the sweetest rat terrier that ever lived.

David called to see if I had "my new phone" yet. The family in Albuquerque he is close to just had a terrible tragedy. Their 22 year old son committed suicide last week. David said "Don't worry mom. I'll never do that to you."

Spell count: Sunday 4:30 pm 6 pm. In the comfy electric chair. Weird electrical feeling then numb hand.

2006-12-24T09:59:00.000-06:00

Friday was such a breeze I think I need a social worker to visit me every day to attend to my business.

Currently there is a hum in my phone and I tried to tell AT&T about it. When none of their phone numbers would help me I got on the net. That didn't work either because I didn't have the last 4 numbers of Dan's Social Security # or my last phone bill. So everybody who calls me says "Did you know there is a loud hum on your phone line?" I say it is because I did not save my phone bill because I pay it electronically by computer compounded by the fact I never memorized Dan's SS# after he died 17 years ago.

If I had a social worker she would paint this pathetic picture on this half blind cripple whose only communication with the living world is her phone. Probably by letter with copies to the Public Utilities Commission. HUMMMMMM.

Spell count: Saturday 6 pm. It's becoming more like I stuck my left hand in an electrical outlet. I can move the arm while it's going on.

2006-12-23T09:22:00.000-06:00

Yesterday the social workers had breakfast here and Penny stayed to drive me to my Occupational Therapy evaluation across town. Sue had left orders I was not to dress. Just put pants on beneath my caftan. Not how I like to be seen in public but certainly easy.

Penny filled out the long questionaire and was practically in my lap during the 2 hour session. Although she has known me 36 years this is the first time she observed my defects first hand. Fortunately there was a burn victim in the area who diverted her attention.

The therapist had me try a mobile arm support that attaches to a table or wheelchair. Under $500. I ate some pudding using it. Just the ticket for my needs. Figuring out the mechanics of where to order it and who got to pay for it fell to Penny and the therapist, Amanda.

When we got home Penny got on the phone and in a short time got people moving and shaking. She is a wonder.
Spell report: Thursday 5 pm Friday 6 pm.

2006-12-21T14:18:00.000-06:00

I'm wearing my Gary collar. Today is the first day I tried to put it on myself and it is hanging on precariously by a wisp o' velcro. This pathetic loose application took me 20 minutes. Glad I did not pay for my own girl sized collar.

On the plus side I was able to answer the phone with my wrist Lifeline! This means I can sit in the electric powered chair and when the phone rings press my wrist and it answers the phone. I can yell across the room and say "Stop calling here you people! 'Dirty Jobs' is on!" or talk pleasantly if it is during a commercial break.

Eventually you have to whack the transmitter reset button to get it back in rescue mode. If you don't it beeps at you annoyingly.

Spell Count. One yesterday while eating a salad before Donna put on the collar.

2006-12-20T15:51:00.000-06:00

Today the Lifeline lady hooked her machines up to my phone and gave me a bracelet to wear which I can press for emergency help. $40 a month.

Next Sue brought 6 frozen dinners. She leaves tomorrow to spend a week in Michigan with her 99 year old dad.

Art and Donna brought lunch. She was able to cut down Gary's cervical collar for me. I have it on now. While I was eating my arm acted weird for a second.

This journaling is easy but who would waste time reading it?

2006-12-19T16:57:00.000-06:00

Had the tiresome weirdness in my arm at six pm even though I did neck exercises and wore th cervical collar 5 hours.
I tried to put it on today but could not. Remembered yesterday Tabitha put it on me and I had a struggle getting it off. I hesitated asking her for help but figured if she worked as a unit secretary at a hospital she could handle it. She was very sweet about it.

Today I tried to cut it down to my neck size but my box cutter didn't make a dent. I'll try the electric knife tomorrow. That's what they use on "Trading Spaces" to cut thick hunks of foam. Art and Donna are bringing lunch around the same time as the Lifeline Lady is installing my "I've Fallen and I Can't Get Up" gizmo.

You can telll I'm hurrying. Not much content here but a post is a post. Time to waggle.

2006-12-18T14:09:00.000-06:00

Head waggling worked on Saturday but on Sunday I had two "spells" in late afternoon. Today I dug out Gary's cervical collar and am wearing it now. Since it was Gary's there is plenty waggle room.

Ellen found neck exercises on the net (high tech waggles) and I'm doing them at least 3 times a day. My experience with doctors is they do tests and refer other doctors. Eventually you fall and they send you to a hospital and on to a nursing home. Not encouraging.

Ellen came over after a three week bout with croup. She still is coughing and in pain. Gary has incurred my wrath by censoring parts of her blog. The big blabbermouth gave her blog address to people he works with and now is trying to censor who she writes about. The nerve.

Becs blog has never been the same since she went vanilla on white. But I don't know the answer. Guess free speech is a losing battle until you are so ill and boring no one reads or is interested in what you say.

2006-12-16T11:53:00.000-06:00

Doctor called at 7 pm and I mentioned the numbness that had been going on most evenings since the 29th. He wanted to know "What I wanted to do." He mentioned a myelogram and I tuned out. I ended up waggling and rotating my neck until bed at 8 pm. Second day with no numbness and much neck activity.

Q found a spine site that suggested a cervical neck brace. I have one tucked away that was Gary's so will haul that out later on and see how it fits.

For a treat i opened a can of Delmonique Lobster Bisque. 260 calories. I could drink it with a wide straw. Lobster was fifth on the list of ingredients but not observable. Something different from my usual fare and enjoyable.

2006-12-15T11:13:00.000-06:00

I now have a Lifeline scheduled for installation on Wednesday. No, I didn't fall but I could have. It isn't mini strokes. Something is haywire in my neck/spine that has been causing a daily "spell" of numbness in my left arm and leg. If I'm standing I could drop. It's scary.

There are said to be exercises that can be done but no one will give them to me so I can commence them until the 22nd. I have a call in to the doctor to try and get them verbally. I'm encouraged to think I might be able to do neck exercises to prevent this numbness. Yesterday I waggled my head and neck all day long and for the first time all month did not have an evening "spell". Encouraging.

I started this blog to tell stories and write my take on my life. I think it is turning into a journal. The worst part about that is only negative things are happening. Nothing bugs me worse than an intermittent blog. I go for my daily visit and they are absent. I'm abandoned !

So I'll try this daily journal approach for a month. Maybe WW will join me?

2006-12-11T18:19:00.000-06:00

I wish the Maker could stamp the date we will die, say on the bottom of our big toe. Handy information to have yet not obvious to everyone.
"Howyadoin?"
"Pretty good. Haven't checked my toe lately but I have no complaints."
The last year of your toe date you could pass your money on to friends and relatives instead of pharmaceutical companies.
For me it would mean not stockpiling toilet tissue and Kleenex. I will have been all excreted out.

2006-12-10T15:43:00.000-06:00

Every now and then my left hand flops down on the keyboard and deletes a post in mid blab. Today I was trying to describe a daily "spell" I've been having. I decided it meant I was not supposed to write about spells. It's just as well. My internist said she doesn't have a clue what causes them. I've found eventually things escalate to the point even a cretin can pinpoint the cause.

I once had a low grade infection in my ethnoid sinus for 5 years. Finally my pulmonary doctor cat scanned my head and discovered it. Factive antibiotic wiped it out. But my symptoms had been "I feel like I'm having an out-of-body experience." How could anyone diagnose and cure that?

So as long as my "spells" only happen when I'm sitting and only last 2 seconds I'm okay with them. I have so little control over my body nowadays. I definitely need to increase my chocolate consumption. Couldn't hurt.

2006-12-09T14:18:00.000-06:00

Q has been sick for a week and like all of us is ready to be better. My Easterly neighbor Archie twisted his knee in the snow at church. He showed me how he could bear weight on it but it hurt to bend it. My own complaints haven't changed but I can't talk about them until everyone has recovered.

Yesterday we had our annual Christmas breakfast here with just the five of us former social workers. They gave me a red poinsettia and a Dale Chiluly calendar. Pat made marshmallows from scratch and bagged them with a hot chocolate mix. Penny gave ornaments. Sue gave Truffles and chocolate covered pecans.

They all live on the other side of town from me so I assuaged my guilt over the miles they drive by giving them Shell gas cards. Not personal or creative but the best I could do this year. One year I threaded red ribbon in brown burlap sacks to hold presents. Apparently the sack gave off a pungent smell but I didn't notice. Every now and then someone tries to re-gift me that sack. Pat tried this year.

Over the past twenty years we have taken a group picture in front of the wood Christmas tree. Only one person in this crowd has grandchildren. Carol has seven. Otherwise we are are own grandchildren. And we spoil ourselves.

2006-12-04T13:51:00.000-06:00

Returned Sunday from another exile to the castle due to power outage.

It began Thursday with flickering lights so I went to bed. At 11:00 pm all systems were down so I unhooked my ventilator and phoned the power company. I use a "special number" they gave me and someone picked up right away. She said 100,000 people were without power and it would be off for a day.

She suggested I go someplace else, call my doctor and stay warm. So I went back to bed and stayed there until daylight. I decided to just stay put but my friend Sue got involved and blabbed to Ellen and before I knew it had dressed me, packed me up and whisked me across the river where sensible people put their wiring in the ground.

Q was working from home and Gary was fighting snow and ice accumulation in the driveway. Q was beginning a dandy cold and graciously allowed me to force saline nose drops on her and make unhelpful suggestions. She actually wore a pair of slippers at one point in an apparent acknowledgment that she was sick. Unprecedented!

The next day she went to my house and unloaded both freezers and transferred it to her empty freezers. Then she shopped for a stranded friend and baked a cake for the friends party. While she was at the party Gary cooked maple syrup sausage links and thawed Marks homegrown sweet potatoes from my freezer. We dined at 7 pm and he did all the serving and cleaning up.

Q coughed all night. By morning she was voiceless and sick. Gary packed me and all my food up and hauled me home. Their annual tea is in six days. I don't think he can pull it off alone but whatever. He has proven once again that he ranks right up there as my favorite son-in-law.

2006-11-29T14:58:00.000-06:00

Scheduling doctors appointments on 11/27 and 11/29 gave me the sense there would be no more this year. But today's visit to the polio specialist has generated referrals for yet more appointments. On the other side of town of course.

It has been 18 years since my first evaluation by this fellow. I was able to give him a copy of his own evaluation. Hospitals lack file space I guess. He has mellowed and so have I. He suggested there might be some device used by quadriplegics to feed themselves. A sling that swings from a stand. But first I have to go through a therapist to see if the thing will work for me. I find this encouraging.

An ice storm is bearing down with snow hard on its heels. Not a time for travel. I may opt to wait for the new year to dine graciously.

2006-11-26T12:11:00.000-06:00

Disabled Awareness Day. I have shoulder high hooks on the backs of doors and place garments backwards on the hooks. Then I back into the hook and slip my right arm in the sleeve. I shrug my shoulder and get the garment partially on myself and off the hook. Next I go to a tall dresser and use that to prop my arms against and tug the left side on. The hard part is fastening buttons or snaps.

This year the difficult part has been positioning the garment on the hook. They have become too heavy. Or to put it correctly my arms can't lift squat. So I stay in my polyester caftan until i can devise a better dressing solution. The only time I really need to be dressed is when I get my hair done.

I've found shoes that zip and are lined with sheepskin. So I wear them without socks. The car warms up quickly for my mile trip and the shop owner helps me on with my coat when I leave. Usually that is a heavy sleeveless vest so my arms aren't weighted down for driving.

Another issue in my decline has been toothbrushing. For this I developed the Extendo-Arm (patent pending). It is a plunger inverted on a base. The concept was I would wedge my right elbow in the rubber plunger piece and my hand would be in the vicinity of my face. This has worked better than you would have imagined. Some day you will see it featured in a handicapped supply catalogue for $100. You saw it here first.

2006-11-25T15:55:00.000-06:00

My first Christmas present from Dan was a dark blue sweat suit. I couldn't raise my arms to get it over my head and he knew this. But he really, really wanted us to have matching sweat suits.

My last present was a pair of Rebok running shoes. He sold a putter when he learned he was dying and sent Q to purchase the shoes. I don't run or tie shoelaces but it was a fitting gift from my sports minded husband.

When Q was dating Gary he brought in 21 presents for her 21st birthday. We were a one present family. She was bedazzled by his generosity.

Every Christmas Son of Cloud would look in the driveway to see if there was a car with a red ribbon festooning it. I did buy him a few cars but instead of ribbon he got lectures.

2006-11-22T12:25:00.000-06:00

People who set up standards for the type of partner they want to marry really don't want to meet anyone, much less marry them.

We all want to be valued and desired. It is appropriate to let people know you appreciate whatever good qualities they have. You make them feel good by sharing your observations with them. They like being with you. They don't feel pressured to be someone they are not.

Age is not important unless the older partner wants to have a baby. Then the age might be a factor. My aunt married a man when she was 50 and he was 30. When he died after 30 years of marriage, she still looked 50. Currently at age 90 she has three fellows interested in her. The 40 year old one she fancies is married. The other two are in their eighties. We who know her agree they are too old for her.

Some people have the energy for relationships and some don't. If you have the energy, don't sell yourself short by setting up arbitrary age limitations. See what happens. It might be fun.

2006-11-21T11:53:00.000-06:00

My initial use of the gifted electric chair was disquieting. I sat back and pressed the button. Slowly it eased me back, little by little, until I was resting horizontally. "Hmmn," I thought. "I can see how people fall asleep in these things. Comfy!" And then the phone rang. By the time I powered down and came in for a landing the answering machine had had a meaningful conversation with the caller.

Back into it I went and tried to find a midway position when it dawned on me. I was a chair prisoner! Without the remote I could not get out of that chair! This scared me. I imagined myself high and dry in that chair spread-eagled for a week until Q found me. So I had to set up a little nest beside the chair for a phone, the tv remote, water, snacks and Kleenex. (Survivor Man would have added flint and firewood.)

I was still nervous about the power failing and spending 9 days in an electric chair. I studied the ways I could crawl out of that chair if the remote failed. Impossible. Too deep. I decided to use the chair in the upright position and let able bodied guests risk imprisonment. The next day I read the brochure and saw there was battery backup so that the chair could always be lowered in case of power failure.

Guess all those years testing at Sing Sing somebody worked out the kinks for us retired seniors.

2006-11-19T13:03:00.000-06:00

Today everybody is out of town. Partly due to Thanksgiving travel and other vacations. My East neighbors had a death in the family and will be gone to the funeral and wake. Death happens around the holidays and darkens them with shadows for years to come.

It has been nice having cell phone contact with Q & Gary while they are in Chicago. Gary jabbers away in the background while Q and I say "What? Can you repeat that?" Much like phone calls when they are home. There was an electrical fire at our airport the day after they left and it was a nightmare for travelers. Lucky for them they missed it.

I have been trying out my gifted electric chair and think I'm going to be very popular with my son-in-law. It eases back into a full reclining position and also up and out. All soundlessly and with a handheld remote button. For years I refused to let a recliner into my house but nowadays I'm more adaptable. My friends' husband and son carried it in with the most pleasant expressions on their faces. Like it was exactly what they wanted to be doing.

I enjoyed watching "Taxi Driver" last night and it was much different than I was expecting. They should destroy the music sound track. It didn't suit the movie to my way of thinking. "Prime Suspect" is on Masterpiece Theater tonight. I'm just loving tv lately.

2006-11-18T10:51:00.000-06:00

I've been watching "Six Feet Under" on the Bravo channel every Monday. This morning I turned the television on while I ate my cereal and there was a marathon so I watched some of it again. I was amazed at what I had not attended to.

Part of the problem is I don't always watch the set. I have it on while I'm unloading the dishwasher or the microwave is humming. If I am quiet I get impatient with commercial breaks and jump around. That means I miss out on opening scenes. So I watched more attentively this morning.

Inevitably the neighborhood boys started with their blowers,suckers and scrapers and won the noise competition and I lost interest in recycling life in the funeral home. Now I'm looking forward to "Taxi Driver" which I have never seen and is being shown tonight. For someone who never watched tv or many movies I'm making up for it now.

When Dan was alive we never watched tv together. People thought this was strange. Dan would have labeled "6 Feet Under" as "goofy" as he headed out to the sports channel. Yet he was a man who in the sixties was hooked up to one of those ratings boxes that measure what tv you watch. He claimed he singlehandedly kept "Gilligan's Island" on the air its first season. Now THAT'S goofy.

2006-11-17T11:55:00.000-06:00

The breakfast crowd made fried eggs,biscuits and sausage gravy and homemade applesauce. During breakfast the kitchen ceiling light flickered out and we learned how many social workers it takes to screw in a ceiling light. The puzzlement was getting the thing apart. Luckily I had florescent bulbs stockpiled so eventually there was light.

After everything was done we noticed a screw in the corner of the cover. Sue started giving detailed instructions for me to give Gary. "Stop right there!" I said. Gary would have immediately bought a top of the line fixture and had an electrician out to install it. The screw looks much like a dead bug. R.I.P.

2006-11-16T16:19:00.000-06:00

This has been a social week for me. My monthly lunch people arrived yesterday with a wheelchair and one of those chairs you press a button and it catapults you up and out. Donna has been a friend to a 90 year old lady who just died and I was offered dibs. Am I lucky or what?

I just love wheelchairs. Probably because I do not yet exactly need one. The backs are comfy, the arms fit under my table and they are great for hauling stuff around the house. This particular chair has features my old one doesn't like a high padded back. Also it was cleaner. There are a number of crevices on wheelchairs that are attract dust. I spent an hour this morning detailing my old one carefully.

My garage is full of medical stuff people don't want to store. It's like insurance. Doesn't hurt to have it. Medicare should set up a distribution center for unneeded medical equipment. But until they do I'm your man.

2006-11-14T11:29:00.000-06:00

When my mom saw me looking in a mirror as a youngster she would say "Vanity, vanity Woman is thy name." Being nearsighted has helped me avoid my reflection in mirrors nowadays. My moment of truth came when Dan got a video camera in the eighties.

The first thing that horrified me was how my head bobbed when I talked. That was before bobble head dolls. Then I noticed how lame I looked opening presents. After seeing that tape I refused all wrapped presents and insisted on tissue covered gift bags. I didn't like how my clothes hung askew. After being videotaped in an outfit it was discarded and never worn again.

I had developed a pose for photos that displayed my best side. I looked over my right shoulder and lifted my chin ever so slightly. Video tapes kept rolling and my fake smile looked phony. So I stayed out of the way of the video camera. I was a good director but lacked star power.

When Q took my picture for this blog much photoshop had to be invoked to whiten my teeth and minimize neck wattles. My life is an open book but when it comes to appearance I want the expurgated image.

2006-11-12T12:18:00.000-06:00

My solution for an ideal marriage is duplex living. Your husband lives on one side; you and the kids live on the other. When they become teenagers they can choose. Heh heh.

Husband can eat meals with the family or watch football on Thanksgiving. He can create his own nest around a behemoth recliner. He can fill his duplex with cigarette and firewood smoke. He can have dogs and cats in bed with him. He can write his initials in shower mold. He can make piles of every piece of unopened junk mail he ever received.

Wives can invite unexpected guests into a tidy living room. Hire professional help without defending the need. ("We just painted that room 20 years ago. Looks fine to me.") Watch their own television programs. Sleep without background snoring sounds.

And separate bank accounts.

2006-11-11T15:57:00.000-06:00

Getting through the week has been difficult. Even with lots of help it was discouraging. Buttoning a simple blouse took 25 minutes. Snaps aren't going much faster. Everyone recommends velcro but in my forest of velcro there is only one hand clapping. And, even if I could pull it apart, it gaps open. I can't put most things on over my head.

Q found some magnetic snaps like they use for purses and sewed some on yesterday. I can work them with one hand but they are pricey. $3.75 per snap. So we ordered some online. $1.70 each but shipping was $13. It takes at least four snaps to close a blouse.

Today I have on a one size fits all caftan. It has dark red roses on a leopard print. It's cold so I have over it a pink sweat shirt with two snaps fastened. I'm not wearing drawers. Cuts down on the struggle in the bathroom.

When my mom was old and lost weight she wouldn't buy smaller bras and kept falling out the bottom of her old bras. "Why even wear bras?" I complained. "I'm no chippy!" she flashed back.

2006-11-08T12:24:00.000-06:00

I had a good day yesterday. Tabitha came the day before so things were cleaned. I fixed a breakfast of egg, bacon and English muffin. I bought a half tank of gas for $20. Tried to remember the last time I bought gas but it may have been a year ago. I paid $1.97 a gallon then I recall.

Lucky for me the Sinclair station up the street still uses live people to pump gas for us. I was wondering if spiders could get in the gas tank and foul it with their webs. At the beauty shop someone asked if I tipped the filling station attendant for pumping my gas. Never hear of such a thing. Next thing you know we will be tipping doctors. Humph.

President Clinton left a message on my answering machine. I already voted by absentee ballot but he didn't know that. When I went to bed things didn't look good for my people but we came out victorious by this morning. I will not have to put the Gypsy curse on the righteous president. He can implode without my involvement.

Both my children voted. A good day.

2006-11-06T13:13:00.000-06:00

The Christmas breakfast won't take place this year. We may replace it with a Spring brunch. The weather is so unpredictable here. Ice storms can begin in November as well as freak snowstorms. I don't mind canceling but I hate the phoning and agonizing over what to do.

Dan made a wood one-dimensional slat tree for over the fireplace. There are hooks for ornaments and lights. Every year Q gets it out of the garage and uncovers it and plugs it in. In a twinkle it's Christmas. There is a star that hangs out on the porch every year. It is garish and ostentatious but the little girl across the street looks forward to seeing it. So that goes up at Thanksgiving.

Since I stopped cooking Q and Gary bring Chinese carryout and play Dominoes with me for Thanksgiving. My family seldom had a festive meal then. One year there was a pot of Great Northern beans and ham hocks. No wonder I don't make a big fuss about the holidays. But this year I have a present for Q that tickles me. That's what makes it good. The giving part.

2006-11-05T10:58:00.000-06:00

In the seventies the Post Dispatch featured the "One Hundred Neediest Cases" at Christmas time. Social workers would submit stories about their families and the newspaper would select the best.

One of my co-workers wrote about a lady whose happiest day was her weekly trip to the cancer clinic. She was given enough money to buy nutritional drinks. Another received a radio for a blind client.

In all the years I submitted stories only one was picked. A teenage girl had lost a front tooth. After her story was published she was given the money to buy a tooth. A few years later someone was cleaning my office and introduced herself. I wouldn't have recognized her but she remembered me. She had a radiant smile. I'm not a hugger but she got hugged.

One of my best friends wouldn't read the newspaper feature. "Too depressing at Christmas time" she said. I wanted to knock her front tooth out.

2006-11-04T11:33:00.000-06:00

I've always paid for what I bought. If I couldn't pay cash for it I did not get it. When I got a new car I immediately began saving for the next car. I never took a vacation on credit. Couldn't have enjoyed myself.

But I have friends who dine out on credit and lease cars and vacation at time share condos. They delay no gratification. They seem to be enjoying life without creditors hounding them for payments. I don't get it. Why would you want to pay 20% interest to indulge yourself now when you could wait awhile and buy the same pleasure with cold cash?

When I was first married I swept the carpet with a broom. I saved green stamps for a year to redeem for a vacuum. When I almost had enough my mom appeared with a vacuum. I was appreciative but my heart was disappointed. My goal was pulled out from under me. I took the books of green stamps to the redemption store and ended up with a large mirror with an ornate frame. I still have it and when I look in it I see someone taking my dream away and replacing it with their own. Nothing wrong with that but we need to be able to set goals and reach them without help. Or double diget interest.

2006-11-02T12:44:00.000-06:00

The dogwood tree in back lost its red leaves last night. There are still yellow leaves on the sweet gum and sassafras. Japanese Maple has a lacy maroon foliage. I used to love mowing the back yard and making piles of mulched leaves that by spring became rich composted soil.

Since I've stopped mowing I pay men to bag the leaves and haul them away. Their eyes cross when I try to discuss composting. They know how to run machines and make noise. They want to plant grass and fertilize. I am considered strange in that I don't want a putting green lawn.

I don't miss cooking much but I do wish I could work out in the yard more. I spent ten good years making a natural garden. It still looks pretty from the window but guys are at work undoing my vision. And I have to pay them for it.

2006-11-01T15:32:00.000-06:00

It took 70 feet of cable for Pricey Plumbers to unclog my kitchen sink. Because this is a slab house it was necessary for "Lance" to go on the roof to run the auger. My job was to watch the water in the sink and shout out the window when it started to drain.

I've never helped a plumber before and was happy to assist by watching the water. Unfortunately the "big whooshing sound" I was assigned to report on did not happen. But somehow the blockage was disturbed enough that water began to drain. So $205 later the dishwasher could be turned on and the filthy sink scrubbed up.

I resent the time Lance spends going back to his truck for supplies while my meter is running. Plus his bathroom breaks and use of paper towels. Then the 15 minutes he spends calculating the bill. I would like one day to set the timer when actual work starts and ends minus the looking-busy-work. But that day will never come.

I can't waste my Gypsy Curse Powers on plumbers. I need to center all my power on people who refuse to allow stem cell research. What are they thinking? They and all their progeny are doomed to a diseased future. Doomed.

2006-10-30T18:27:00.000-06:00

Everything seems to require a longer explanation than is necessary to tell the actual story. I bore myself.

Yesterday the kitchen sink would not drain. Q took the newer pvc joint apart but it was blocked beyond that. Pricey Plumbers will come Wednesday to see about that.

Respiratory Therapists have been coming here to fit me with a new face mask for my night time ventilator machine.
The mask I have been using has nasal "pillows" which fit in the nose and a rigid headgear which goes over the head and holds the hose the air passes through. The new mask is nose "pillows" and mouth and chin cone which will keep my mouth from flopping open and air escaping.

It is difficult getting this new mask on. Maybe impossible. I'm so tired at night I hate to struggle putting it on. Yet I know it is important to make the effort. Today I will tackle putting it on mid-day and use it for an hour. When it is on I cannot speak. This guarantees phone calls.

2006-10-26T13:15:00.000-05:00

Roomba is sheltered on the front porch awaiting pickup by a charity resale shop. He has only been used a couple dozen times. He has always been quirky and required total attention. I would put him down and he would start vacuuming then stop. I'd have to kneel down, turn him over and inspect his nether regions to see what was amiss.

Now that I have Tabitha Roomba isn't needed. If only Tabitha could hum Roomba's startup tune.

2006-10-24T11:04:00.000-05:00

One of my favorite breakfasts is soft boiled eggs on buttered toast.

Place an egg in a pan of cold water and bring to a "Full Rolling Boil". ( I can still hear my mother's voice as she gave me instructions.) Turn off the heat and set the timer for three minutes. Then place the egg under cold water until cool enough to touch. Tap the middle of the shell to halve the egg. With a spoon scoop out the contents on the toast.

This has always been tricky for me to do using only one hand but lately is full of frustration. I burn my fingers and the shell gets into the egg. So I stopped eating them. Then Sunday I soft boiled three eggs and had Q carefully remove the shells and refrigerate them whole. Today I took one out and microwaved it with a little butter. It was quick and the yellow was still soft and I didn't make a mess.

When you hard boil an egg and store it in the refrigerator you make faces on them with a marker so you know raw from cooked. But peeled eggs just lie there looking naked and shivery. There's always a downside to mass production.

2006-10-23T16:31:00.000-05:00

When I came home from the hospital after surviving polio in 1949 I had many visitors. It became quite a chore cheering those sad eyed folks up. But people couldn't handle a negative me. So I became attuned to the needs of my visitors and through the years made them laugh and forget how sad looking at me made them feel.

Apparently I have lost this ability. The Friday breakfast which I found very entertaining was not seen that way by everyone. They thought I was angry at them. It's hard to respond to people who think you are mad when you are just being you. I don't want to have to put on a phony cheerful face to people who should know better. I don't know if I have the grace to make the effort. Do people still "get mad" at people outside of high school?

In the meantime Tabitha made an appearance and did a bang up job of cleaning house. I complimented her on turning off her cell phone while she was here and she appreciated the credit. I may invite her for breakfast next time. At least she knows what makes me happy and what makes me mad.

2006-10-21T11:14:00.000-05:00

Social Workers brought breakfast yesterday. They enjoyed a 30 minute hike around the neighborhood while I made the coffee.

I have a white round pedestal table in the kitchen. When there are four of us the conversation flows. There were five yesterday and we kept splitting up into sub groups. I hate that. I want to be a part of All of it. This means I'm inattentive to both groups of conversation while trying to sift out what is being said.

I had asked Sue to keep a look out for a wide straw that I might use for soups. She came in with a six foot long pvc pipe that she hacksawed into 6 inch "straws". I gamely tried it out on water but it was like trying to siphon gasoline out of a tank. The pump needed priming. Penny browbeat a Pannera employee for 25 latte staws for her "poor little friend" and negotiated to purchase 1000 at a later date. I haven't sipped that much soup in my life much less my golden years.

Sue brought 7 dinners in Rubbermaid containers. I have not bought Rubbermaid products for years because I was unable to manage opening them. She knew this but said these would be easier and she was right. They are easier to open. She is a good cook and that afternoon I had spinach ravioli with meat sauce. Delicious.

Penny and Sue have found a woman who has a niece who would provide personal care for me. They are ready to sign her up. But a step like that is major and I had to ask them to back off. I have to get my head around the concept first. After they left I ran the dishwasher and went back to bed for three hours. Looking in a mirror of your
daily life can be tiring.

2006-10-19T11:17:00.000-05:00

Once upon a time we had a six foot tall plastic blow up dinosaur. Every Halloween we would blow him up and stand him inside the front door. My job was to slooowly open the door so the first glimpse trick or treaters got was the fiendish dinosaur. The little ones hid behind daddy and whimpered. The older ones were speechless.

One year I lost interest. I cleaned out the garage and the dinosaur skin. Every child that knocked on the door that year was ready to be terrified. "Where is it?" they would ask. They didn't want my Snickers bars. They wanted the scary dinosaur.

I don't turn on the lights anymore and I close the blinds. No one knocks. You get back what you give.

2006-10-18T14:56:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I wrote a long piece on my trip to the post-polio doctor. Then the processor made a burbling sound and Blogspot ate everything up.

Today I wrote about that and started something else about Halloween. My arm twitched and the computer went "thunk" and that was gobbled up also. I know all about saving but this is ridiculous.

I read other people's blogs daily. They are my morning cup of coffee. They write about their real life. They are not posers. But the next time they miss a post I'm going to be less inconvenienced. Maybe Blogspot gobbled them too.

2006-10-15T11:54:00.000-05:00

I've always been a worrier. When I worked I played out the days events over and over in my mind until I dropped off to sleep. When I retired I learned to think about the same thing every night if I wanted to sleep.

Originally I would win the Lotto. Then I would divvy the money up and share it with friends and family. This got so boring I would drop off to sleep quickly. Then people in my head started complaining. "Sure, she gave us a house but who will pays the utility bills?" So drifting off to sleep became harder. Ungrateful wretches.

Next I wrote a complete script for a Seinfeld show. It became so hard to write the same script in my head over and over I decided to write the Seinfeld Opera. A rhyming score is easier to replicate. But I hadn't realized that Elaine Benice could be such a bitch. Scheming, uncooperative diva. I had to replace her with myself. I knew the score. ZZZZZZZZZZZ.

Waking up early never bothered me. Thoreau said "I awake with the dawn in me." Then a sleep test showed my legs doing the boogaloo all night long. I was diagnosed with restless leg syndrome and they gave me a drug called Requip. I knew my muscles were sore when I woke up but until the test didn't give it much thought since I slept through it.

Lately the Requip needed some backup support and they added Neontin. That works so effectively I may never get the Seinfeld opera completed. And Kramer has such a powerful Gomer Pyle aria in the second act.

2006-10-14T16:10:00.000-05:00

Last time Pricey Plumber was here he charged $89 to unclog a sink. He came back yesterday to fix the "pop up blah blah" in both bathroom sinks for $365. He carried out a pile of pipes including the u-joint he had de-clogged previously. That didn't surprise me. The man has overhead.

What puzzled me was in the master bath he replaced the toilet paper with a fresh roll. And in the hall bathroom he put the seat lid down. I guess it's those extra little touches that keep customers coming back.

2006-10-13T13:41:00.000-05:00

I learned early not to cross the King. I treat him like royalty and he has been a wonderful son-in-law. When I was at the Castle in July Q sliced the ball of her thumb severely and bandaged it. The next day the King demanded she rip off the gauze and put Neosporin on the wound. She wanted to soak the bandage off but he said she was delaying action and willfully ignoring him.

It had been a full 24 hours since the injury so I inquired as to the rush for action. And he yelled at me! I have never been yelled at ever in my life. He later explained to Q that he had to "speak sternly" to the Queen Mother. The Neosporin contained a pain reliever so the pain she might feel ripping off the bandage was negated by the ultimate benefit.

I wish they made Neosporin for feelings because I could have used a big gob about then. But now Q has a healed thumb and the King has forgotten how he spoke sternly to me.

About a year ago he was lopping off a branch with Craftsman loppers and a ratchet type thing flew off and he pronounced the tool dead. But wait. Had he not insisted I only buy Craftsman tools because they would be replaced free by Sears if proven defective? Never. And he went out and bought two trendy Fiskar tools with electric blue handles.

Yesterday I asked Sue to stop by the Sears store to see about their policy. They said to pick out a new pair and leave the old ones. No paperwork. New for old. And the new ones have lemon yellow handles.

Mwahahaha. Not that anybody won or anything. The King has no memory of yelling or tool trading. But I feel washed in Neosporin.

2006-10-11T13:52:00.000-05:00

I have a friend who loves to shop. When she is in town she calls to see if I need anything. Then she calls again from the store to give me choices. Then she calls to tell me of an item she thinks I might want. She loves her cell phone.

Today I woke up with fluttery arms. Usually this happens in the afternoon when weak muscles signal shutdown. Today I dropped, spilled, fumbled everything I touched. Not a good day. Sue called to discuss flu shots and make plans to pick me up some zip lock storage containers. She found some Rubbermaid but I can't get that brand open. If she were here she would make me prove it. I could scarcely hold the phone to my ear. I tried the speaker phone but she couldn't understand me.

The Queen does shopping for me also. She has me send a list and then takes it to a store and buys the largest bottle they sell. She doesn't use coupons and she doesn't look for the best price. She seldom calls from the store because she knows whatever she brings over will be appreciated.

Both the Queen and Sue have commented I need another speaker phone. (Q sez "Replace them all!") But I don't get that many calls. And people complain about the "tin can" sound. "Your head in a barrel? Can't unnerstan' ya."

I went through the headset phase and the ear piece phase. Doesn't go on without more effort than I'm willing to put forth for a phone call. That's why I like blogging. No one tries to reinvent my wobbly wheel. And I get to complain endlessly.

2006-10-09T16:53:00.000-05:00

I finally called in Pricey Plumbers today when The Queen's Service was unable to unclog the bathroom sink with Draino. Pricey Plumbers got the clog fixed in 15 minutes. It took another 15 to write up the bill and the
estimate for additional repair of leaks discovered under both bathroom sinks.

PP will return on Friday 13 to repair the newly discovered problems and what other spin offs they create. In the past they have charged me in the 'sands for repairs that started out small and escalated.

Tabitha did not appear today as scheduled but a short 7 hours later called to say her 19 year old daughter forgot to wake her and left her in the house with no phone or car. So I said it didn't sound like we were going to be able to get together and she should call when she wanted to work. She said her truck would be fixed on Friday and said she would be dependable. I have the names of other people I will call in the meantime.

No wonder men want housekeepers to handle all this stuff. (They call them wives.)

2006-10-06T12:38:00.000-05:00

Post-Polio Awareness Day. In 1949 the outside me became crippled. But inside was the same person born in 1936. It took several years to figure out the outside me wasn't going to get better. People think because you are crippled you are brave and sweet. I knew that wasn't so.

I learned pretty quick to squelch my natural sarcasm and hateful remarks because that wasn't what outsiders wanted to hear from people they felt sorry for. They wanted me to struggle and fail and then they would intervene and feel good about themselves. On the other hand many people are so self involved they don't notice my difficulties.

Black Cloud was this way. One of his classic lines was I lacked "compassion" for him. At the time I was clueless. Had his arms and hands stopped working? Could he not run and jump at will? But now I understand. It's the inside person that can be so damaged they can't go on. The outside person can be patched up and soldier on.

It's hard when I'm happy and I want to fling both arms in the air and snap my fingers. Q does it for me if I ask. Once she and Gary stood behind me and made my arms move like a marionette for a photograph. It was fun.

Today really isn't a post-polio designated awareness day. But every now and then I'll be proclaiming it with a blog entry. And I hope when you read it you will throw your arms up in the air just because you can... and because I can't.

2006-10-04T12:22:00.000-05:00

In the seventies programs were funded to assist families out of poverty. What would have helped these folks was actual cash. But they got me.

The G family was a mother and her retarded adult son and daughter. Their house was a bug infested garbage dump with a stench so rank it was necessary to hold a handkerchief to the nose to keep from gagging. The smell memory stayed in my nostrils for years. I could call it up by thinking of the G's years later.

Inside the garbage and cans were sloped from floor to ceiling in a bank of refuse. Each week I would bring empty cardboard boxes for them to fill and leave for pickup at the curb. I thought George was capable of washing down the refrigerator. He proved he lacked the simple coordination needed to spray cleaner with the right hand while wiping down with the left. When I showed up next they had painted over the filthy refrigerator with indigo blue paint. Horrible! But they expected praise and got it.

They were all receiving disability and had acquired a color tv. The fellow who cashed their checks sold it to them some way. People get all upset when poor people have something expensive. I didn't have a color tv but didn't begrudge them theirs. The only thing else they were rich in were cats.

Mom G had leg ulcers and I noticed maggots swarming around in one. (Nowadays they use maggots to cleanse wounds but not in the seventies.) I arranged for a visiting nurse to come out and met her there on a Saturday. When she was rummaging around looking for a basin she opened the oven door and a cat leaped out. Suddenly it stopped being about maggots and became about cats. Mrs G said she was Christian Scientist and could not be having nurses meddling with her wounds. She ordered the nurse out.

My task then was to get rid of the cats. I could not get them to consider adopting them out to anyone but me. So my plan was to take a cat away and give it to the animal shelter. The first cat weighed 25 pounds and was vicious. They put him in a box for me but got worried he might batter his way out. Before I knew it the family piled in my car holding "Pinkie" tightly.

It was only 5 miles to new hubbies condo so I decided to drop the cat off there and take it to the shelter later. Once Pinkie got there he bolted out of the box and under the couch. When I finished for the day I mentioned to Dan there was a homeless cat under the couch that I couldn't dislodge. What was I thinking? He opened the front door, got the broom and in only one hour got the hissing cat out the door. We were only two blocks from a major interstate highway. If you were betting on Pinkie or an 18 wheeler, bet on Pinkie.

That Christmas I had some donated presents to drop off to the G's and decided to take my children, ages 8 and 10.I thought they should see the deplorable conditions some people live in so they might complain less about their own lot. As we handed over the presents I noticed fruit flies hovering over their heads and although the garbage piles had diminished the dreadful odor remained. The indigo blue refrigerator was smeared with filth.

When I asked later what they thought Son of Cloud said, "You gave them more presents than you gave me." Q said, "They seemed like such happy people."

We got a color tv and my job changed to counseling unmarried pregnant girls. The Christian Science G family sent me a greeting card every Easter until they were placed by some tidy do-gooder in separate nursing homes. I told them Pinkie ran away.

2006-10-03T15:38:00.000-05:00

Q got my stickers and wanted to bring them by but I wanted to do one illegal act before I stopped driving. So today I drove less than a mile to the beauty shop with last years stickers and was not arrested. It was so easy. I can see how criminals get started. just little by little on the edge and BOOM! Sing Sing.

2006-10-02T13:18:00.000-05:00

The Queen paid a call yesterday. She has been working long hours on an instructional design work project but I had a 16 point list written up for her which took her a couple hours to whirl through.

1. Set up new lightweight phone system.
2. Put away non-perishable grocery items.
3. Open jars and boxes at least partially.
4. Organize and label items in refrigerator and freezer.
5. Empty vacuum bin. (Tabitha didn't.)
6. Vacuum garage carpet.
7. Put heavy cookware in back room and make room for plastic cookware.
8. Pull out Dan's dead azalea bush and dead head spent tree peony blossoms.
9. Open quart V-Fusion and transfer to manageable pint bottles.
10. Open Tide box.
11. Hang up 10 drip dry items from washer.
12. Transfer clear ammonia to two spray bottles.
13. Try to snake the bathroom sink drain.
14. Cook ground chuck and make a gallon of chili. Freeze in 2 cup containers.
15. Cook and refrigerate maple sausage links.
16. Take documents to license bureau and get stickers.

Life in the dowager cottage always improves when the Queen pays a call.

2006-09-30T12:04:00.000-05:00

I seldom leave the house but yesterday was the last chance to get the emissions test and license stickers for the 14 year old Sable.

The longer I put things off the more I dramatize in my head awful scenarios of what might go wrong. It took an hour to get out of bed, another hour to prepare and eat breakfast and yet another hour to get dressed. It was 62 degrees out but I had to eschew socks because even the adaptive sock appliance couldn't get them on my feet.

I gathered cell phone,money,protein snack bar,documents and when I drove off it began to rain. This cheered me because the car was so dusty from sitting in the garage it was like a free car wash. I do right turns best so I plotted my route so that it was all rights.

When I tried to talked to the guy in charge he was not interested in my cautions so it gave me a great satisfaction when the low effort power steering warning siren began screeching like a colossal smoke alarm. Heh heh. Fortunately a girl drove it out and did not slam the power seat so far back it wouldn't go forward. Of course it passed.

Police were gathered up the road due to a minor accident but I was buckled up and had two more days on my old stickers before they could nab me. I made a complete circle of the route, going home with totally right turns. I went directly home to use the bathroom and plot out my trip to the license bureau when I ran out of steam. Plus my toes were cold.

So now I have two days to agonize over what might go wrong at the license place. And by the way the emissions test was $24.00. The two year sticker $55.00. And gasoline under $2.00 a gallon some places.
Life in the Midwest.

2006-09-29T19:09:00.000-05:00

I had a magazine article writing professor who said people didn't want to read about disabled people. He based this statement on his own inability to sell an article he wrote on hearing problems to Reader's Digest. All the proposals I submitted to him were shot down and I withdrew from his course. This meant I couldn't graduate in June and had to stay over the summer and graduate in August. THIS meant I was flung into the arms of Black Cloud and out of writing.

Actually, one of the articles the prof wasn't accepting of was published by an Alumni magazine. Not Reader's Digest but it was glossier. Most of the courses I took in school got me grades and friendships but nothing that increased my knowledge. My mother was my best teacher. Both good and bad.

2006-09-28T16:14:00.000-05:00

My domino world is collapsing as I write. I was so encouraged by the appearance of Tabitha I placed a large order for groceries to be delivered today. Progresso soups, Pasta Voila!, roasted top round, yogurt etc. to be delivered between 11 a.m. and 2 p.m.

The first domino clattered when I tried to drain the bathroom sink. The stopper was up but the water was pooled. Could Tabitha have clogged it? But it has always drained slowly. Today must have been building up for a year. The only thing that goes in that sink is soap, toothpaste and spit. I don't do hair things in there.

I went looking for the newest plumber number. Not in the card file, personal book or miscellaneous book. Not in the yellow or white pages that my squinting eyes could find. This guy was referred to me by my furnace guy. I have never actually used his services but he lives in the area and I like that image. "Hi neighbor! Got a teensy little drain problem. Could you take a peek on your way home?" Plumber was put on "hold for healing" status when the sink emptied after a mere four hours.

I set the next domino in motion by only having a glass of V-Fusion for breakfast. My thinking was I would eat good things when the Shnucks delivery came. At 2 p.m. I had an apple. By the time he waddled in I had to ask him to put the perishables away for me. He did it so agreeably I suspect he would have done it before if I had asked.

When I settled down to read Rebecca's blog it had VANISHED. Thankfully WW gave me a bone to chew on.

Someone told me about a meal delivery system called Seattle Sutton. I looked it up and the meals sound wonderful. Fresh...not frozen. I'll be looking into this after I get all the dominos swept up.

2006-09-27T16:17:00.000-05:00

Tabitha cleaned today. She could not make it on Monday. Truck still not repaired and medical secretary schedule hinges on trading times with co-workers. She is moving on the first of the month so getting packed and out of her other house has been difficult. But it looks like she should be more reliable and cleaning on Mondays every two weeks.

$40 is what people pay for two hours work around here. I got my carpets vacuumed, bathrooms cleaned, floors mopped, mirrors washed and furniture dusted. She moved stuff. She didn't act like it was killing her and she didn't need to have media blaring to work. Her cell phone rang often but she only responded once and briefly. I was pleased with how things looked when she left.

Her kids are 19,16,15,13 and 11. She is borrowing the 19 year olds' new car until she gets her move paid for and can get the truck fixed. She seems to have a positive outlook no matter what are the obstacles. I think I was that way once.

2006-09-24T14:19:00.000-05:00

Two of the criteria for moving from a condo to a house were it had to be all one level and near a library. The library was less than a mile.

I would select an author and read every book he wrote. Then every biography written about him. Then books by his contemporaries. During my Thomas Wolfe binge we vacationed in Asheville and toured his mother's boarding house.
I did most of my reading on the living room couch in front of the television between 7 and 9 p.m.

One of Q's earliest drawings is "Mom Reading On The Couch" with my toes spread wide apart.

Nowadays I don't read much. The eye specialist mutters about future surgery but not now. So I watch the television I didn't watch most of my life. It is numbing but provides company. Here is what catches my interest now:
House
Project Runway
The Soup
Gilmore Girls
Dirty Jobs
Thomas Wolfe would be not be impressed by my choices even if I spread my toes ever so provocatively.

2006-09-22T12:35:00.000-05:00

I always thought the two easiest things in the world were to get married and to get pregnant. The two hardest things were to stay married and prevent pregnancy.

In high school only a couple boys asked me out and I was appalled at the prospect. My mother had made it clear that I was not marriage material as I was too frail for housework and I would be unable to conceive or carry a child. It made perfect sense to me. In college a fellow named Lou asked me out and was such fun and such a gentleman my mother agreed it was okay to date but marriage was still not in my future.

When Lou started getting serious and talking about our future together I stopped seeing him. I loooved kissing him but his priest kept getting in the way of that. My mother was always watching out the window and If it didn't bother her why would a priest care?

Lou loved to debate ideas and later went on to teach Philosophy. But to me it was too much like arguing. So I was ready to move on. Once I learned how to kiss it was a dating extravaganza for the next two years. When someone seemed serious I just moved on. My mom had explained good girls didn't do "it" and if I did I would die of pregnancy. I felt so lucky anyone would want to go out with me that just dating was enough.

Finally Black Cloud found me and faced down my mother's wrath and my father's concern, "That boy doesn't look you in the eye Baby." I explained all the negatives about marrying me but he was determined. And really, really cute. I thought well, maybe sex would be as fun as kissing. So we got married and moved far away from my friends and family.

2006-09-21T14:16:00.000-05:00

When I was in Journalism school I worked on the campus humor magazine "Showme". I was on the staff for the last two years it was published until it was banned due to poor taste. I still have the magazines and it is funny to think such harmless smut could have created such a commotion. But it was big stuff in the late fifties. Mort Walker who later drew Beetle Bailey was a contributor. One issue shows me modeling a skirt appliqued with a Snoopy dog drawn for us by Charles Schulze.

One night the editor had a paste up party at his apartment and one of his roommates was Dan. He said he was driving down to St. Louis that weekend and I could come along if I wanted. He was very polite and seemed sophisticated to me. He could drive the car while drinking a soft drink, smoking and switching the radio stations. I was dazzled.

He invited me out but my experience dating was limited and I didn't want to get in with such a cool character. This made me officially hard to get and worth going after.
He was on the GI Bill so periodically would have to take off a semester to work to pay his expenses. We ended up writing and going out around six months until I broke it off, He thought I was just being goofy and actually wrote me a love letter which he never sent.

Fast forward 10 years and I returned to the state two kids heavier and somewhat wiser. I was going through a box of letters to re-read the promises Black Cloud made me and there were all Dan's amusing letters. I called him and he was home on a Saturday night and without a wife or family. He fished out my letters from a dresser drawer and told me there was a letter to me there he wished he had mailed.

Within five months we were married. My mother said it was a miracle but I called it making my mistakes early and saving the best for last. And it lasted 20 years.

2006-09-17T18:30:00.000-05:00

Q and I were visiting today when Tabitha called. She described a fuel pump problem on Friday and wanted to come out today. I said okay and there she was! After introductions I asked her if she had actually cleaned houses before. She said she worked for Dee's Superior Cleaning Service. Pandemonium!

When Q was a teenager a lady from her church started up a cleaning service and hired teenagers to work for her one summer. I was all in favor of Q being employed and out of her room. Turns out Q and Tabitha were both trained by Dee. They didn't work at the same time but compared notes about their mutual boss and what she taught them about cleaning. (Shout for shower doors. Johmson's wax for counter tops.)

Tabitha committed to every other Monday beginning ummm...well...she's going to call me.

2006-09-16T15:50:00.000-05:00

Alas. Tabitha did not call or make an appearance. I am reminded of Son of Black Cloud during his years of seeking employment. He would hear of a job and ponder the idea a couple days. Sort of try it on in his mind. Then he would speculate on what the salary might be and determine his own worth. By the time he went for an interview he had already hired himself and was ready for promotion. The entry level jobs took too long to achieve his goal which was to receive a paycheck without actually leaving the house.

I think this is where Tabitha is right now. She probably doesn't have transportation or reliable day care. I understand how this works. And cleaning someone's house? What a comedown for a medical center receptionist. I tidied and dusted most of the day. Really felt I'd improved things even though there was no deep cleaning going on. Maybe I should put Tabitha on retainer to call me now and then and propose doing a good housecleaning. She wouldn't have to come. I'd pay her to be my tidy motivational speaker. But I draw the line at benefits.