Scilla me

I have blue pots out front that I planted Scilla in last year. One teensy flower is blooming now and a herd of green stems. I hope I get more blue with all that green. Love those little blue flowers to pieces.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ridiculous

So memaw car got out of car hospital after a week. She looks awesome; not only did she recover fully from being run over by the damnfool next door and losing a turnsignal headlight thingie, she got herself one helluva bath. I do not know when I have had this car this clean. She got some gradoo (local patois for gross shit you don't know the origin of or proper removal method for) all over her a while back that wouldn't come off with any solvent from the Auto Zone. Taking her to the carwash just made her a little less gritty. I thought either the pecan sap or the Central Valley funk from when I lived in California had etched the paint. Lemme tell ya; this is one shiny old car. She and I are prissing ourselves up the onramp to go to the fitness center and finally sign up. On public radio comes Clark's Trumpet Voluntary. I recessed to this at my wedding, and it's a gorgeous piece of music. Problem is, hearing it makes me feel like I did at my wedding; so happy when I first turned around, a little nervous when I saw the odd expression on my new husband's face, and devastated by the end of the piece; by the end of the aisle, I could tell he was done. As far as he was concerned, his part was complete. That attitude did not change for the next five and half years that we were married.  Honestly, that rat bastard ruined one of the prettiest pieces of classical music ever for me. I'm just glad we didn't recess to Pachelbel's Canon in D.
I shook that ghost off and cruised on into the fitness center. They signed me up and I padded into the pool area to walk the pool, determined to walk 30 minutes in the water. Ha. As if. I made it about two lengths up and back without getting winded. Slow walking, let me emphasize here. I did spend 35 minutes in the pool. Some of it was walking with my arms going back and forth in the water. Most of it was either walking with my arms on a boogie board TO LEAN ON in the water. Or if that got TOO HARD, floating up and down the lanes with some kicking. Please. Meanwhile there was a steady stream of little old ladies almost twice my age pulling on rubber caps, getting in the lanes next to me, swimming laps and smoking  me. I got smoked by someone's MiMi seven times. Panting the whole way. With a cramp in my right leg. Afterward I spent twenty minutes letting the whirlpool show that leg cramp who was boss. Ha.
The ugly part is where I forgot my brush so when I dried my hair it was way past scary even with a ponytail; then when I got to the drugstore the line was too long to drive through so I said fuckit and went in looking like that. Scared a couple of people out of a year's growth.

Inverse Proportional Ratio

I have never been what you would call good at math or probability or anything. But I am starting to think that there is a new universal law about how many printers you have in your house and how many ink cartridges for those printers and how when those numbers go up the likelihood of your actually getting to print a document from your computer goes down. It is not a cheap natural law to be discovering.

Talking Dog

Object of Affection #2 is a cat-person who is constantly astounded by the amount of language the old lady dog can process. On days when her ears ring she has a lot of trouble but days like today are hilarious and add to my reputation as the eccentric on the block.
 I heard the yowl of a catfight and went to the door thinking I would need to rescue my timid calico from the fierce one next door. The dog came out with me to see what was up. There was a feral tom under the neighbor's truck who had engaged the neighbor's calico, who had fled under another car. The tom yielded to my yelling and scampered for the ditch. Old lady dog had a flash of her old cat herding days and took off after him, barking fiercely until he crossed the gasline. She was trotting back to the house, tail up, triumphant, when the feral tom advanced back over the gasline. I told her, "Go back over there and tell that cat what you really think of him." She turned, took off at a run, and barked him all the way across the ditch and into the bushes behind the apartments beyond.  There was some serious prissing of dog tail after that. Of course she got a dog treat for world's smartest bad cat eliminating dog.  I told OoA#2 and he scoffed a little, then asked her if she had chased a strange cat. "Harf!" was the happy reply. He just shook his head.
 I never have told him about the time she told me she thought she may have mistakenly eaten some astronaut.

Bad choices

So I felt so much better Monday, awesome. Tuesday I set my alarm early to take the ancient memaw wagon to the body shop. It lost an eye when the kid next door ran it over in the driveway and didn't stop because he had his music up so loud he didn't hear the collision. My insides went insane. Google colitis. Add nausea. There. I couldn't figure it out, between the nausea medicine making me sleepy and goofy and my constant bathroom trips. Then the only two variables came up; salad the night before and getting up early. I haven't noticed problems with salad but when I had to get up early for the scope a few weeks ago I felt this bad or worse and thought it was the prep. I have another appointment with the GI guy Tuesday to talk about the news that I thought my insides were better but I had just trained myself to sleep through the disaster. And if I wake up the whole day and the next two are awful. We are going to talk more about rheumatologists, Remicade, and surgery. Because this is not really life, sitting on this couch, thinking about drinking. If going to the pool doesn't get me substantially better in a month I am going to push for the Remicade and I don't care right now if it kills me. They've got epi, I've had it before, they can just give it. If they just refuse the Remicade I will see about the surgery even though I think in the long run it will make things worse. I am no longer a patient, I am once again impatient.  That thing about what doesn't kill you makes you stronger? Serious bullshit. What doesn't kill you just pisses you off.

Paper White Persistence

So we had this spell of way-ass cold frozen beyond Yankee foolishness weather. It was completely uncalled for, with lows in the 'teens night after night and water mains breaking all over town. I have this patch of paperwhites way out back that I saved from a demolition site a bazillion years ago and I give them to people who want them. They bloom early because they are in a spot which is usually warm by the ditch. I thought they would be mulch after coming up and getting the hell frozen out of them like that. All the leaves laid down flat like they were done for the year, better luck next year. But a lot of the stems that got flattened by the frost went ahead and bloomed anyway. Their scent is too strong to bring them in the house but they get extra points for perseverance. I just sniffed a few without picking them, maybe I will go and deadhead them when they have bloomed out. The poor bees could use a few pollen sources.

Heavenly Goodness

My sis sent me not one but two boxes of Meyer lemons from the trees in her backyard and that of her neighbor. Imagine having so many of these you have to mail them to people to get rid of them. She juices them and makes marmalade until she is heartily sick of them but there is nothing that smells as good as Meyer lemon in wintertime. Lavender in spring is a close second but you can flat eat a Meyer lemon and you have to do a lot to lavender to eat it, like put it through a bee.

What was that

All kinds of crazy stuff goes on at night around here. Harley cat purrs as loud as his namesake, right by my head, if he is favoring me with his presence. Old dog may get a stomachache and whine to be let out. And my insides do crazy stuff that makes me wake up sweating, something to do with sympathetic nervous system. I just feel grateful the nausea has calmed down a lot, that made it all a lot worse. I "sleep" (using the term lightly) on piles of fake featherbeds to try to keep my joints from getting levered out of place when I turn over, and I put an electric mattress pad to try to keep my leg temperature even, as the RSD makes them go cold/hot in a startling and disturbing fashion. There are about two comfortable positions, and those often make me wake up with my arms "asleep", which weirds me out completely.
Yesterday we were busy; I worked on some KP and then had to do some repair on some sheetrock, a roof leak had made a ceiling piece moldy. AoO#2 replaced it with liberal use of Moldstat in the hole, but he can't tape and float. He had to supervise in case I fell off the ladder from raising my arms and fainting, but I did some pretty good corner taping and floating. I thought I was going to feel horrible today even though I wore a respirator mask to do the work. Usually,I can't stand up for more than ten minutes without feeling beaten up. I just made taco soup for dinner because I was planning to be knocked out after that and knew it only had to be minimally stirred, possibly from the stool, and not necessarily by me. But it wasn't that hard. And I went to bed early, which I usually dread because I hate lying there, hurting, and was able to fall asleep pretty well.
So I was sleeping, sort of, and I felt the strangest sensation. All over. It felt like feeling human or something. They are postulating some kind of adrenal auto-immune problem that felled me back in October, and this felt like an adrenaline rush, but a good one. Just like, feeling strong enough to do something.  It was odd, not really like a dream. When the critters started mobilizing for me to get up this morning and whoever that is who calls and hangs up on the machine all day started up, I was a little afraid to get up; didn't want to lose that feeling of well-being.
Today I did a class assignment without getting too frustrated once. Two loads of laundry without wanting to cry or curl up. And tidied a room without having to go lie down that second. That hasn't happened in three months. Whoa. I still feel super weak but thinking of things I need to do isn't nearly as bad as it was even Saturday. Maybe my immune system decided to call a truce on my adrenals? I sure hope so. I could use the break.

Immense Progress Made Here

I got to eat breakfast for the first time in months yesterday. It was awesome. I was thrilled to make some today so I took its picture. I'm a little nauseated but we have drugs that may help. Look at those happy little berries! Local honey! Greek yogurt and granola... you have to get better if you can eat your breakfast!

Pork chop too big for eating

I brined these pork chops and braised them after browning because they were too thick and I didn't think they'd cook. Onion gravy which is a wine and broth reduction, butter and garlic noodles, chipotle sweet potato fries, Sister Schubert's roll, sugar snap peas. I ate less than half a chop and Mister Portion Control sneaked into the kitchen for more noodles and gravy, ending up leaving a fourth of this massive chop on the plate. I have never seen him leave meat. 

Antioxidant deliciousness could photograph better

This is Royal Fish Curry; the tomato curry sauce is orange-y colored, lots of spices and turmeric, healthy yummy stuff; the potatoes were actually kind of purple, and with the green-flecked rice it had a cool, LSU dinner vibe. Too bad the Blackberry doesn't catch color that well... it was yummy. I am trying to cook something super antioxidant every meal. This qualified and was terrific.

Holy Shit

I almost never remember a dream. Maybe one dream every five years or so. And they are either hopelessly mundane...shopping for groceries...or eerily prophetic. The other day I had a dream that ended with butterflies, surrounded by crystal blue clean water. It wasn't drowning them, they were all happy. When I woke up, I had the strongest urge to stop lying on the couch all day and get the doc to say I could join the gym and try to get some strength back in the pool. Right now I can't sit up more than half an hour or stand more than five minutes before my belly hurts so badly I feel faint. I'm super deconditioned from sitting down with my legs stuck out for two months, and the only time I feel human is in the bathtub. So, he said it couldn't hurt. Right after he said he didn't have any ideas for medicine that would help, and had I thought about going to the surgeon to get the bad parts removed. Turned him down on that one, not lusting an ileostomy bag right this second.
Anyway, I went to the health club and made inquiries. They figured a way to get me the low rate and not pay the intro fee, and asked me into the office to start the paperwork. On the wall was a huge collage of photos of glistening tropical butterflies, about twenty of them; the manager's favorite things.

New Recipes and Failed Portion Control

Sister Schubert's roll; chicken breast with a new balsamic vinegar and honey glaze instead of OaA's favorite onion gravy; Mark Bittman's pasta cooked like risotto; and the old favorite sauteed broccoli. I ate my, smaller plate and was quite full; the novelty of the new chicken and pasta was too much for his resolve and seconds were spotted. Leftovers were also taken for lunch.  Good stuff.

More Eating of the Christmas Tree

Apology for undue crankiness risotto;

whole-wheat baguette;

roast pork with rosemary that used to be the Christmas tree;

and a big ole chopped Italian salad.

Object of Affection #2 likes risotto and pork roast unduly well. He is trying to exercise portion control and he did not eat seconds tonight. He munched manfully through his salad with another piece of bread instead.  It made him faintly mournful but there was careful refrigerator placement of leftovers.Portion control and lunch may not go together.

Note To Self

Dream:
Baby ducks---imprinting----flood of dirty water
Clean water----tropical butterflies
Go join the damn gym and get in the pool.  Your ego and your superego say it. Even your unconscious says it. Your id is the only one who thinks you should keep drinking the vodka. Nobody cares if you can't afford it. Your head and your legs and your belly really want you to get in the pool. Fuck the people who have to look at you in that horrible suit. Go on and join the damn gym already.

No, I Have Not Had Absolut Vanilia Today

That was yesterday, at three in the afternoon. I actually got out of a moving truck, yelling at my boyfriend for acting like he always does, went in the house, and made myself Coke Zero and Absolut Vanilia. He was astoundingly horrified and apologetic, and I sulked and drank my medicine. Awesome medicine, incidentally. It's the only thing that makes the gut and back pain stop, even opiates don't work. Luckily it works in small doses.
There's some wonky reason involving sympathetic nervous system and cold dry weather that makes the pain so bad a girl would throw herself out of a Ford F150 to get to the vodka....
If it doesn't warm up soon and that house in Hawaii doesn't materialize I really am going to have to do that horrible threat I threatened.
I will have to build a bonfire in the backyard and dance around it nekkid. Yes, it will be ugly beyond description. The very earth will shiver in horror; and in shivering, get warmer. After the small earthquakes and mudslides have subsided, you will thank me.
Because this cold weather has just got to stop.

Pulled pork is not for dogs

And Stubb's Barbecue Sauce with KFC slaw is not cheating. I have been sick, dammit.

Ridiculously easy: sliced onion and jalapeno, peeled and smashed garlic on bottom of crockpot. Pork roast on top. Cook on high 4 hours. Flip. Cook 2 more hours. Fish out of juice. Peel off fat, discard. Shred meat with forks, stir in Stubb's, heat in saucepan, serve on toasted bun with pickle and KFC slaw. Yum. Go away, dog. Eat your damn chicken.

Enough Cold Weather

I have not been standing up when I can help it. I'm fainty anyway and the floor is so cold it makes it worse. But I just have to get up and do something about this house. Argh. Arson comes to mind first. Voldemom always said, "This place could use a good fire."

Damn Dog

I am seriously considering harming this poor old lady dog. She is just too smart for her own damn good. So, she is very old, and started vomiting blood, for fuck's sake, over Labor Day holiday. I thought surely she was dying. I tempted her with bits of chicken, hoping she wouldn't die, and gradually over a few days she began to eat again, refusing commercial food. I ended up buying a big new half-price Crockpot on sale to fix the dog her own chicken and vegetables. I can't cook it overnight because when it begins to smell done she starts to whine and drive me batshit crazy. So I spend two days a week preparing dog cuisine, essentially. Today I used the Crockpot to make a pulled pork roast for OUR dinner. The dog cannot have pork, she will vomit everywhere. I fed her a nice dinner of chicken and veg while I got ours ready. She has been whining ever since. I could not figure out what the hell was wrong with her, she was obviously not in pain or wanting outside. She went in the kitchen and tipped over a few things and I realized. She is annoyed that I made pork, succulent delicious excellent smelling pork, and ate it, and gave it to OoA2, She is pissed that I used HER crockpot to cook in and did not give her what was obviously her food. She is looking at me: "Bitch".
Damn old lady bossy ass dog.

Whew

Object of Affection #1, beloved and beautiful and good-smelling daughter, has left the driveway enroute to college. Thank God and all her angels. I love that child beyond reason but she is in full houseguest mode. I can't seem to get her to kick in to adult ownership of this house and its duties, much less come and take care of my sick ass. Since I have been feeling ill, I just wish she would stay with her grandfather when she is in town and come over to visit when she is bright-eyed. It would really hurt her feelings but I may ask her to do that if she doesn't go somewhere fun at Spring Break and I'm not feeling chipper. I asked her to do specific things, and I talked to her about not feeling up to entertaining, and wanting her to pitch in and take ownership of things around the house. Bottom line; she did the laundry last night, and loaded the dishwasher, but everything else for the last ten days needs doing now, and I'm tired from the cooking and shopping. She did a little better controlling her migraines this visit; sometimes she comes home without any medicine and just has one continuous headache. I had those in college too, but I sent her to the neurologist and expect her to keep her medicine on hand so she's not a patient when she gets here.

 A lot of this blues riff comes from being raised by maids, and having lost my long-time housekeeper who I felt like was my anchor. Mess makes me sad, because there's no one to take care of me. Picking up after myself is okay, even though it makes me feel faint now and I have to do it in small doses. But doing it after other people makes me devastated, like I'll never feel happy again. I know that's stupid, but now that my housekeeper of 16 years has had her back spoiled by surgery, I don't have any easy rush of endorphins from coming home to the reassuring smell of Pine-Sol and Murphy Soap. Losing my housekeeper was a lot harder on me than having my Dad die and deciding to stop seeing Voldemom. My housekeeper gave me such a gift every week of order and peace and was always supportive and encouraging.  I didn't even have to see her for her to make me so incredibly happy just walking in the door.
  Having to fight so hard to get my disability money, I would be hard put to juggle the money to pay her but I've eaten beans to keep her employed before, and I'd sure do it now. I just have a couple of months to muddle through this, get back to work somehow, and find a housekeeper I trust again. Walking in the house on a Thursday afternoon to dusted shelves and vacuumed floors, things I didn't have to ask anyone to do, no please, just thank you....oh that is what love feels like, I am sure.  Meanwhile, I think I have to put on sweet eyes and ask Object of Affection #2, boyfriend, if he will please vacuum all this dog hair. Argh. Asking. Or do it myself and be too tired to do anything else today.

WTF

Trying to get the dog a bath today; I am too stove up to crouch over the tub and wash her. It will make me faint.
I already feel horrible from the cold dry weather.  So we loaded her into the car and she began to shake uncontrollably. We drove to three locations. The first had posted a misleading sign about self-serve dog wash, and was short a groomer, so no go. The second had stopped offering self-serve dogwash. The third was nearest the house and recommended by the second. It was open. The proprietor was charming. The plumbing was frozen and in the process of being thawed. The owner was so sweet and apologetic, and ancient smelly dog had relaxed and stopped shaking by the second stop. She came in to see what was up and sniffed all around, and saw that no vet treatments were forthcoming. Triumphant urination was micturated into the front yard of the establishment, and once milady was replaced in the back seat, she actually harrumphed at us. "Harrrf," As if.
So today's WTF is: dry scratchy eyes, tight achy chest, killer pelvic and hip bone ache, and smartass smelly dog, all from cold dry weather. NEED HOUSE IN HAWAII.

Overwhelming talent at Thursday night dinner

Whole wheat baguette; wild-caught orange roughy with white-wine reduction and mushroom sauce; crab and cheese cake; crab-stuffed mushrooms; salt and garlic crusted Yukon gold baked potato; salad is romaine with gold cherry tomatoes and home-made balsamic dijon vinaigrette. The mushrooms are a favorite of Object of Affection #1, were deemed successful and the fish spectacular by OoA #2.  He likes my salad dressing and potato awfully well. OoA#1 is DD to most bloggers OoA #2 is boyfriend to most. I like my nomenclature.

Hmmmmm. Fair Warning. No Kids Allowed. Go On, Shoo.

I think the categories for now are:
WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot/Stoppit
Objects of Desire
Objects of Affection
Huge Outpourings of Overwhelming Talent
My Side of the River
No language on any of these topics will be suitable for anyone. Offensiveness guaranteed; if you get butt-hurt easily, head on over to Pioneer Woman, she is a great person who has had a great life and is super nice.
Yes, I am smarter than you. I have papers. Tougher, too, if not physically.
Although I will cry at a Kodak type commercial like a big old pussy.

See? Told you about the language.
Get lost, kids.

How Not to Start a Blog

Like this. Like being almost completely computer illiterate.

And needing to study, not try to learn something totally fun and engrossing and so very not useful.

With having old dry eyes that need less screen time, not more.

Along with some of the worst housekeeping skills ever thus giving yourself another excuse to not tidy.

Yep.

I think I may be doing this almost perfectly completely wrong.

I think I will think of categories for a little while. Fair warning: they will be obnoxious.

Love to all....

especially Sam.