ISSUES WITH EARS

 I was just getting ready to sit down and go through my e-mail when I made the mistake of asking The Man is he wanted to keep the four ears of corn that our neighbor brought over on Saturday.  

BIG MISTAKE !   ( I can never say that phrase without picturing Julia Roberts in the movie "Pretty Woman".)

On Saturday the neighbor brought over a huge box of produce from their garden. This is the third time they have done this and each box of veggies could feed a family of twenty.  Included in this batch of goodies were 2 bags of blanched corn that had been cut off the cob so we could freeze it and four ears of corn still on the cob.  I LOVE corn on the cob but being plagued by diverticulosis I really can't eat that much corn before I end up doubled over in pain. Even if I chew chew chew it still manages to get stuck in my gut where it kills me for days. (It is an awesome way to loose about five pounds but the pain really isn't worth it.) 

Last night we ate some of the blanched corn and it was AMAZING !!!  I don't think I have ever eaten corn that was so sweet and delicious.  I tried to restrain myself and only ate a small amount but OMG was it ever delish ! 

Tonight I left out the four ears of corn thinking maybe we would have them with dinner but then my common sense kicked in and told me not to push my luck, even though I can't get over how delicious this corn is.  I REALLY wanted to cook it and drown it in butter but that is just asking for a weeks worth of pain so I just left it sitting on the counter. After dinner as I was cleaning up I asked the man if we should give the corn to the cleaning lady who is coming tomorrow.  

I might have asked him to drink from the toilet bowl . . . the look he gave me was one of total astonishment.  He then said we should put the corn out in the field for the deer to eat !  I couldn't let that go because this is GOOD corn so I told him that was not an option, the corn was too good for the deer. I then asked if he would eat the corn or does it bother his stomach as it does mine. ( I already know the answer to that because we have discussed what a bitch it is getting old and having tummies that require constant dietary considerations. I was just asking to make sure he didn't want the corn.) 

And this was his answer . . .   I SWEAR to you this is exactly what he said . . . 

" No, it's too much of a bother to cook the corn. You have to peel it and cook it and then there is all the corn silk that gets all over the place. It's too much work. Just give it away to the cleaning lady if you want."

The Man has NOT cooked in four years so I wonder how he remembers how much "work" it is to cook corn ?  I mean it 's not like I am asking him to make a seven layer cake from scratch with home made butter cream icing . . . It's a freaking ear of corn that you throw in the microwave as is, cut off the ends after eight minutes and roll it on a stick of butter.  It doesn't get much easier than that !  

I will offer the wonderful corn to the cleaning lady as a peace offering for having put up with this man for the past nine years. If I were her I would have quit well before now.  

DIS FUNCTIONAL FAMILIES TO THE MAX !

 OK . . .   I'm going to get on my soap box here  . . .   don'[t judge me, just explain to me how a parent can be SO TOTALLY OBLIVIOUS to the needs and well being of their children. 

I grew up in NYC surrounded by middle class working families.  ALL the dads went to work, nine to five. ALL the moms stayed home and took care of the kids and the home. A parent's job was to make the world a better place for their children AND more importantly to teach your children how to be good, honest, hard working, caring individuals. As a parent your main focus was the care of your child and that meant disciplining them so they would learn right from wrong and how to behave in a civilized manner,. 

Kids respected their parents and all the other adults that they encountered. That included police, fire men, teachers and even the little old guy who owned and ran the little deli down the street where you could go for a loaf of bread or a soda on a hot summer day.  The kids were respectful and the adults, while expecting to be addressed with respect, were never mean or condescending. (Well most of the time. Every neighborhood had at least one cranky old fart who would yell at you if you came too close to their yard.)  If you mis behaved out in public you were reprimanded by an adult or your parents if they were there. It was not uncommon for a stranger to correct a kid if the kid was acting stupid. 

Families functioned as a group. Everyone had their job and place and everyone KNEW their job and place. Parents taught kids how to behave and then expected their kids to follow through with good behavior.  I don't EVER remember anyones parent EVER not being around unless they were dead or dying. Parents were visible and active in their kids lives. Parents did not have lives of their own, they lived for the family.

Fast forward to today . . . HOLY CRAP !!!!  What the hell has happened to our world and the family unit ? I look at parents today and don't recognize them as the adults in the family dynamics.  More often that not it is the kid who is in charge because mom and/or dad is too busy having "ME TIME".  Do you know what my mother's "Me Time" was ?  It was while she was walking the mile and a quarter to the grocery store pulling her shopping cart there and back. She had all that time alone to be at one with herself while she got exercise and planned her schedule for the rest of the day. This was the time that she could think about how to stretch her grocery money to the max for the rest of the week and how she was going to find time to get me to the dentist, never mind how she was going to pay for the dentist. My dad's "Me Time" was his drive back and forth to work every day in traffic. He got to think about how he was going to make ends meet with the pay check he got and if he would have enough time to fix the broken kitchen door when he got home that night.  

And life was good ! 

Today we spent the afternoon with The Man's youngest grand daughter.  She is ten and is a nice kid but she has been dealt one of the crappiest hands in life that I have ever seen.  This kid was born a crack baby. Her mother was on drugs her entire pregnancy and the kid has some learning issues because of it.  The Man has told me how he could not go to see her when she was born because of the terrible state this child was in after her birth. He doesn't talk much about it but I can see how terrible it must have been.  

After Little D was born she went to live with her father because her mother was in jail for drug use. Right there you can tell this is not going to be a "Happily Ever After" story.  Little D has lived with her dad for ten years now and if ever there was a kid who I wanted to "fix" this is the one.  Her father runs a bar so Little D spends most of her days sitting in a slum of a bar surrounded by the dregs of the earth who tend to frequent hole in the wall joints.  When she isn't at the bar she is with her Aunt and her cousins who live in town but from what I gather Auntie isn't much better than the dad or her mother but at least Little D gets to be in a home setting rather than a run down dirty bar. 

Little D calls me Grandma because she never really knew her birth grandma who died shortly after she was born.  Grand pa, aka The Man,  isn't that involved with Little D because of the history of his relationship with Little D's mother who is his daughter. 

It is a screwed up family and nothing like what I have know all my life.  My friends and my family are NORMAL . . .  super great people, wacky at times but always loving and putting each other first. 

It just blows my mind to deal with Little D's father who is one step this side of the "good old boys" in the movie "Deliverance".  Today I called this man to ask him to bring his daughter, Little D, out here to see her grand father and me.  I had gotten the child something that she had wanted for her birthday and it had finally just arrived Friday. We had had a birthday party for the kid here at the farm three months ago and along with ice cream and cake we gave here other gifts but this one BIG thing that she wanted was on order and she has been waiting patiently for 3 months for this thing to arrive.   I would talk to her every so often and she would text me keeping up to date on its arrival so when it got here on Friday I immediately called her. OF course she wanted it right away but by then it was late afternoon and grand pa doesn't do afternoon adventures. Besides that The Man now has a bug up his butt that he will be damned if he is going to drive ALL THE WAY to then next town to go to the crappy bar to see his grand daughter.  (He's got a point but it is also something that you do for the kid . . . it's NOT about YOU !). Yesterday came and went without either man giving an inch so this morning I took over and called the father and asked him to please bring Little D up here so we could give her the gift.  I guess I frightened Mr. Dad because he was all sweetness and agreement when I spoke to him. They did show up a couple of hours later, Little D LOVED her gift and all is well with the world.  I was sure to thank the father several times for "going out of his way" to do this for me. (I really wanted to slap him senseless). But I am still shaking my head wondering what in God's name is our world coming to when people can't see that they have to make sacrifices for the good of their children.  I'm not talking about buying kids everything they want or letting the kids run rampant doing anything they want. I'm talking about showing a little kindness to others and not just putting yourself first. 

FACEBOOK MARKET PLACE . . .

 Have you ever tried to sell something on any of the web sites like Craigs List, E-Bay, or  Etsy?   Let me tell you it is not for the faint of heart.  I can't even begin to imagine going on the web site called Deal Dash.com. That one looks like a total nightmare to me.  

Back in the day of the dinosaurs the big place to get a bargain was "John's Bargain Store". At least that was where my mom did all her gift shopping when I was a kid.  We didn't have much money but come Christmas and birthday I always had several gifts to open . . . thanks to the wonderful bargains at Johns. I think Johns Bargain Store evolved into Cheap Johns which in turn became our modern day Dollar Store. 

Up here in Northern Michigan my favorite place to browse is the Dollar General store at the bottom of the hill on the way into town.  Unlike my wonderful Dollar Tree store in Florida where EVERYTHING is only ONE DOLLAR the Dollar General and Family Dollar stores carry things that run up to and sometimes over twenty dollars. (As was the case with the little vacuum that I bought The Man for his birthday. I just couldn't stand using his broom that has bristles pointing in every direction. When I would try to sweep something up it flies off in all directions and makes you then play hide and seek to find it.  Frustrating !!).  Also the Dollar General store sells those wonderful drinks in a bag that I have written about. 

Anyway . . . .    I am not looking to buy any more stuff for this place . . . . We ARE looking to sell as much as we can.  Remember how I have told you about the vast amount of STUFF that fills this house and garage?  Well The Man has FINALLY decided to get rid of some of it and this is where the internet comes in to play.  

Before the internet people had Yard Sales, or Garage Sales, or Flea Markets where you stuck a price tag on your stuff and hoped it would be just what someone was looking for.   NOW we have the internet !

I am the CEO of this business venture.  I also do publicity, advertising, photo shoots where I "stage" the items to show off their best features, and when the crap doesn't sell I get to be the person in charge of disposal.  I'm not quite sure what roll The Man plays in all this other than to ask me twenty times a day if I got any messages about possible sales. Oh Yes, I am also in charge of the switch board, (I Phone and computer), and communications.  I get to read all the inquiries about our items and I get to write back to all of them.  And when something does finally sell . . . guess who gets to deliver it ?!

It is NOT a simple case of, "Hey, wanna buy this?" . It requires hours of preparation and even more hours of follow through. The questions we have gotten about a single portable sewing machine blow my mind.  I have had people asking me to take pictures of the BOTTOM of the machine . . .  It is blank !  But I took a picture.  Then they wanted to know when it was made, what is the serial number, would I take a picture of the bobbin . . .  We posted this sewing machine on Facebook Market place two and a half weeks ago and if I had a dollar for every question I have been asked about it we would have more money than we are asking for the damn machine.  FINALLY . . .  today someone asked the ONE question that no one else has thought to ask . . .  "DOES IT WORK ?"   Up to this point I have been so busy measuring, photographing parts and researching the history of it that I have never plugged it in to see if it actually runs!  IT DOES ! In fact it runs so well I am tempted to keep it for myself ! 

But back to the web sites. We began our foray into marketing with Craigs List. That is the one name that stuck in my head so we tried to post our items on there.  After two days of frustration I finally called my daughter-in-law who is a genius with anything on the internet.  We discussed the in's and out's of selling on Craigs List and then she asked if we had tried Facebook Market Place. She said it was super easy to work with and anyone who has a Facebook account can go to it and see what you are selling.  

JACKPOT !!!!  Love this venue for selling our stuff and so far we have sold three things and met some REALLY nice people.   We even had a husband and wife drive nine hours to buy a bunch of things related to weaving.  They had seen one thing that we had posted, called us about it and ended up making the trip to see what else was here.  They spent A LOT of money and went home happier than the Alpacas and Llamas that they raise.  And we got rid of a ton of stuff.  

Although you would never know anything was gone because there are still ten ton's of stuff still here. 

SURPRISE ! ! ! . . . YET AGAIN

 Once again prepare yourself to delve into the male psyche . . .   OR . . . prepare yourself to once again be amazed at how the "unique" male mind works.  For as many of these blogs as I write I STILL have yet to figure out just how their minds work or if in fact they do work at all.  I am totally open for any man out there to try to explain this to me but until then I will continue to find humor and frustration in my dealings with the opposite sex.

This most recent incident occurred yesterday.  I had been composing a blog in my head about something else that had happened about three days ago so yesterdays adventure just reassured me that I HAD to write  about this odd male behavior.  There have been numerous other times when The Man behaves in the same manner but this one just caught me as particularly amusing.  The fact that when these things happen The Man is totally and completely SURPRISED makes me laugh every time.

Yesterday was hot and humid up here.  Not Florida hot and humid but still uncomfortable enough that the house is closed up and the AC is turned on. More for the comfort of The Man because the humidity really makes his breathing difficult.  

In the morning we left here to take our 45 minute drive to where The Man does his pulmonary rehab.  He had a good work out but was really drained by the time we got home.  We came right into the house and he went into the bedroom for a nap. (Napping is a daily occurrence in our lives and I have been known to actually fall asleep with him for an hour or two. . . .  The Queen of Sleep will take advantage of any opportunity to nap.) About forty minutes into his sleep his phone rang which annoys the hell out of him.  This is considered a personal attack by whom ever dares to interrupt the siesta. I do think The Man believes people purposely wait until their "Dwayne" radar tells them he is in a deep sleep so NOW is the time to call.  Anyway,  the sleep was disrupted and The Man was cranky. (Did you ever wake a sleeping bear or teenager when they did not want to be awoken?  This is exactly how The Man is, and to be fair it is only mildly like what I am like when some one wakes me. )

So now we are up and both of us are cranky. Rather than sit at the kitchen table staring at each other or the TV, (I don't know which is worse), The Man decided to go outside, (in spite of the heat), and cut the grass. Normally this is a great thing for him to do but it really was too warm yesterday. Knowing it would serve no purpose to say anything I just grabbed my book and headed outside with him. Good thing I did !

I was puttering around, getting some things out of the RV and feeding the deer when I looked up to see The Man on his mower out in the middle of the yard on the side of the house mowing down the garden of dead Peonies and tall grass.  This section had not been mowed since the spring because the peonies were growing and blooming and looking wonderful.  Now that they have all died the twenty by twenty area is an island of four foot high grass.  NOT something that one should attempt to mow down with a regular mower.  In the past years The Man has always mowed this area with his "bush hog" that is attached to the tractor.  This machine is made for thick, heavy grass and the tractor is built for heavy traction and pulling. I guess he was just feeling too tired to switch from the mower to the tractor . . . bad decision.

As I exited the RV on the opposite side of the yard I waved to The Man who was sitting still on his mower in the middle of the mass of weeds. Rather than wave back he waved for me to come over so I immediately knew something was up.  Sure enough, he was stuck.  He had mowed down some of the plants but had gotten the back tires of the mower stuck in a soft spot in the grass. 

For the normal person this would be no biggie . . .   just get off and push or get off and walk into the house until you got some one to help get the mower out of the hole it had sunk into.  But The Man isn't normal because he can't breathe.  He was a fish out of water stuck in the middle of the Sahara Desert.  Even though he had his tank of oxygen in the trailer behind the mower he couldn't carry the heavy tank and walk all the way back to the house so he needed help.  Upon reaching him he asked me to push the tractor out of the hole and I totally pulled a toned down version of Rhonda. I did not say, "F--K NO" like Rhonda would have but I DID say no.  (So proud of myself) There was no way I was going to be able to push a mower with him on it.  I think this SURPRISED him as much as the fact that he was stuck surprised him. The surprise turned to annoyance, not with me but probably with himself for being so dumb as to get himself in this predicament. 

The Man was at a loss to figure out what to do when I surprised him with the suggestion that we either call a neighbor to help OR I could get the truck and pull the mower out of the hole.  We did try option one but the neighbor wasn't home so I went to get a chain from the garage which he hooked up to the mower and the truck that I had driven up to where he was. Within seconds the mower was free from its quagmire of weeds and mud and I had not killed anyone or wrecked either vehicle. THAT was a surprise to both of us.

It is this element of surprise in The Man that amuses me to no end.  He is so easily surprised by things. The incident a couple of days ago that triggered my blog radar was when we came home from someplace and I joked that someone must have been in the house while we were gone because all the dishes were washed, dried and put away. (The Man had actually done this earlier that morning but I hadn't noticed until then) When I said this I meant it to be a joke but The Man's started scanning the room looking for the unknown dish washer.  I quickly thanked him for doing the dishes but I don't think he was even listening.  All he had heard was, "Someone must have been in the house" and he was in high alert mode. As he continued to look all around he went over to the French doors in the kitchen and tried the latch. To his TOTAL SURPRISE the door was unlocked !!!  He turned to me, eyes wide and stated, "The door is open!" 

I knew the door was open because every morning The Man opens that door, steps out on the small patio to check the weather.  Nine times out of ten he forgets to lock the door once he comes back in.  Most days I check it before we go out but this day I had not and so it was left unlocked the whole time we were out. (It is not like we are living in the middle of Chicago or NYC . . . NO ONE EVER comes up to this house unless they are here for a specific reason. The UPS guy and the neighbors are the only people who know we are here.) If anyone does happen on this driveway and follows it up to the house they are usually so surprised that they immediately turn around and leave.  

Surprises are so entertaining. 

HIDE AND SEEK . . . THE ADULT VERSION

 Is there a single human being, or animal for that matter, on this earth who has never played the game of  Hide and Seek?  I bet not.  From the time we were infants and our idiot Aunt Bessie would play        "Peek-a-boo" thinking we actually believed she went missing as soon as she put her hands in front of her face to running around the neighborhood hiding with our friends hoping someone would make it back to home base yelling, "Ollie Ollie Oxen Free" so that we could all come out from our hiding and go home for lunch.  

The great part of this game is you can play it with only two people or, as in my childhood neighborhood, you could play it with a dozen or more kids. (Some of which you had no idea who they were because they had just been riding by on their bikes and couldn't resist a good game of Hide and Seek.  I don't know if kids these days have ever played it out in the street where you had a "home base". The whole idea of the game was to not be found and to sneak back to home base where you stood yelling that ridiculous phrase "Ollie Ollie Oxen Free" which then magically released all the other players who had not yet been found. At that point everyone could return to home base and a new round of the game began. I have NO idea where that particular silly phrase came from. It probably started in the mountains of Tibet when the goat herd's mother yelled to her son Ollie to go catch the neighbors Oxen who had just wandered into their field of goats.  What ever the origins it stuck. I have no idea if it was a NYC only phrase or if everyone in the country yelled the same thing when they ran back to home base without getting tagged.  

If you think about it the entire game is sort of pre-spy training for our children.  Covert ops and all that.  What kid hasn't been caught in a game of "cat and Mouse" with their parents, siblings or hated neighborhood bully?   If you broke your moms favorite vase she went on the war path looking for you.  You knew if she found you it was all over and you are going to die ! Or at least get a good hard slap on your butt. To save yourself from this fate you found a good hiding spot and lay low until the storm passed or the bully finally went home. 

The Man has often told me stories of how he would hide out in the pig pen with the pigs because his mother hated the pigs and would not go out there to find him when he was in trouble.  I have seen the tiny house he grew up in so even if mom didn't hate the pigs I'm sure the pig pen offered more hiding places than his house did, especially if any of his six brothers were around yelling, "He's in the closet",  hoping their mom would find him and take the pressure off of the rest of them. 

Hide and Seek . . .   a great game that keeps most kids entertained for hours until they finally realize you are just telling them to go hid just to get rid of them and you have no intention of looking for them. Some kids figure that out pretty quickly . . . In my case I would hide and then fall asleep or get distracted and be in my friends house three blocks away while my parents would have the entire neighborhood out searching for their missing child.  It was a different world.  Ah . . . The Good Old Days !

But now that I am mentally and physically returning to my childhood at a much faster pace than I ever thought possible, I get to play my adult version of this entertaining game. The thing is I don't get to do the hiding . . .  I only get to do the seeking.  With EVERYTHING !   There is not a day that goes by that I don't loose/misplace something. 

The three most often "lost" items of mine are my hearing aids, my glasses and my phone.  The phone is usually the easiest to find because I can call it from The Man's phone. Unless I have turned the sound off, which I do every night, so that my friends can't call or text me in the middle of the night.  In that case it is a good game of "Where Did I Leave My Phone?".  And that is exactly what the problem is . . .  I have left it some place and haven't a clue as to where.  This is also the case with my glasses.  I take them off, put them down and then have to spend the next three hours trying to back track my steps to figure out where I left them. (Although the older I get the less likely it is that I am taking my glasses off for anything because I can't see without them.  In fact the problem these days is I will go to bed at night and ten minutes after we have turned off the light I realize, as I try to roll over, that my glasses are still on my face.)

And then we come to the hearing aids.  This is by far, the greatest game of hide and seek I have ever played.  In the case of these little buggers I manage to "hide" them at least once a day and because they are so small it is almost impossible to find them.  Just this morning I was sitting on the edge of the bed and went to reach up on the top of the tall dresser to get my phone. The phone was exactly where I had left it so that was no problem.  The problem was that last night I had placed my two hearing aids right next to my phone so that when I swept the top of the dresser looking for my phone I swept one of my hearing aids onto the floor.  I heard it hit the floor just before I said a few choice words. I got out of bed and started the search using the flash light on my phone. I immediately found the battery for my hearing aid but the actual ear piece was missing. By now I am cursing like a veteran sailor while on my hands and knees looking for the damn thing. Finally I spotted it on the opposite side of the room . . . how it managed to travel six feet across the room is beyond me but sure enough, there it was.  

A week ago I lost both hearing aids in the middle of the afternoon when The Man went into the bedroom to take his afternoon siesta.  I usually go in and lie on the bed with him and play games on my I Pad while he rests.  When I do this I take out my hearing aids and enjoy the quiet time. This particular day I took them out after I got comfortable so in order not to disturb Sleeping Beauty I just placed them on the bed next to me. Once The Man was asleep I got up and went outside to get some fresh air under my favorite tree.  When he woke up and came out I realized I couldn't hear him so I went back inside to "put my ears in".  Except my "ears" were gone ! I looked all over the bed, on the floor, on the dresser, in the kitchen . . . NOTHING !  The Man came back in wondering what I was doing and I told him I couldn't find my hearing aids.  The search was on.  We looked EVERYWHERE but could not find them.  I KNEW I had left them on the bed but they just were not there.  After about forty minutes of searching The Man had a thought that maybe they had gotten wrapped up in his blanket which he had thrown on a shelf in the corner of the bed room.  As he picked up the blanket something hit the floor . . . hearing aid #1.  Hearing aid #2 was found shortly after on the floor under the shelf way in the back corner of the room.  

You really would think that I would be extra careful with these little buggers since they cost SO much money but my love of a good game of Hide and Seek wins out every time. 

THE NOT SO LAZY DAYS OF SUMMER

 I can not believe it is. August twenty third already.  We came up from Florida to Michigan on the 23 of May . . . THREE months ago !  How is that possible?  I remember thinking when we drove up here that I would be in MI maybe two or three WEEKS . . . and here I am three MONTHS later just loving life in this amazing country setting.  

I miss my grand kids something fierce,  especially the two that I would normally see every two or three days but some how or other we have stayed connected and made due with phone calls, texts and FaceTime. I would love to share this place up here with them  because I know they would love it as much as I do. I can only imagine the looks on their faces each night watching the deer come up to the yard for their nightly snack of corn.   That and all the different birds that show up each day to empty the bird feeder outside the kitchen window. 

But the very best part of being in Michigan this summer is the weather.  This afternoon The Man and I were sitting outside on the patio commenting on the sad fact that the majority of people in our country are HOT and sweaty for most of the summer. We tried to remember if there was any point in the past three months that we were hot and sweaty and there was only ONE day that we could remember it being uncomfortably warm.  No where near the heat and humidity that we left in Florida.  I think I may have discovered the very perfect life and even though this technically puts me in the dreaded category of "Snow Bird" I think I will continue with this life style for as long as I can. 

If The Man doesn't work me to death.

This country living, as wonderful as it is and as much as I do love it, sure does keep you busy.  I was thinking today that if I were home in Florida I would probably be sitting on the couch catching up on the three million episodes of different Netflix or Prime shows that I have not watched in three months all the while stuffing my face with junk food. It would be way too hot to do anything outside and thanks to Covid-19 the community pool is closed so there is no way I would be leaving the comfort of my air conditioning.  Up here I am out side every day, all day.  Because of his breathing issues The Man does not go outside as much as I do which is good because it gives me the opportunity to have some time to myself. 

EXCEPT . . . if there is anything to be done outside I am the one who gets to do it. With the exception of cutting the lawn.  For some reason The Man is hesitant to let me drive his lawn mower. Perhaps that is a very good thing so I'm not complaining because I have many other things to keep me busy. First and foremost is sitting under that big old Maple tree with a good book.

 I usually can't sit still for too long so I break up my time with walking around the apple trees picking up dead wood and tossing it in the fire pit so that every week or so we can burn the branches. These trees are all pretty old, even older than me, so there is always a lot of wood to be gathered.  ( A perk of living out in the country is that you can burn things you want to get rid of, as long as it's not the barn or the house. The Man tells the story of when he first moved out here he knocked down half of the old barn and burned it, much to the dismay of the neighbors down the road who thought the house was on fire and called the local fire department. The fireman were NOT happy!) I also have a flower bed that I have been working on cleaning out but that may take me a couple of years to get done.

Maybe all my "puttering" around has inspired The Man or maybe he just figured out he has some one dumb enough to enjoy doing all these things. What ever the reason this summer The Man has FINALLY decided to get rid of some of the stuff that is here. Last week he announced that he would like me to take some pictures of a FEW things in the attic and we would post them on Craigs List. We tried this with some things last year and it went no where but we thought we'd give it another try.  Unfortunately Craigs List was WAY too complicated for out ancient brains so I called my daughter-in-law in Atlanta to ask for some help with our postings.  Knowing who she was dealing with she suggested The Man and I post our stuff on Facebook Market Place.  FANTASTIC IDEA !!!  It was sooooooooo easy and the responses came in immediately. 

The only problem is that The Man has gotten Market Place fever and is now ready to sell EVERYTHING! As I have written in the past this is something that needed to be done but little did I realize I would be the one up in the attic and out in the garage pulling stuff out of nooks and crannies, closets and trunks. 

This past Friday I got to go up into the attic, which is accessed by a steep flight of stairs in the living room. My mission was to take pictures of EVERYTHING that is up there so that The Man could see what he wanted to sell.  (No way would he make it up those stairs with his COPD) Thank Heavens for the digital camera on my phone. Up to this point I had only been up in the Attic once before so I was actually excited to go explore this unchartered territory. There are three large rooms up there,  one is finished to be a bedroom, the other two have floor and walls but are only set up for storage.  I was like a kid in a candy shop !!  

The bedroom space had an assortment of things that had obviously just been put up there after The Man's wife died. There are beautiful wool blankets that she wove from the wool that she spun from the sheep that they raised. (This woman was WAY out of my league when it comes to crafts. I don't think there is a single craft that she did not master but that is a whole different blog.) 

The other two rooms looked like someone had emptied a warehouse and stuffed everything into the space of two bedrooms.   I can't even begin to list the things that I found up there but suffice to say we now have a parlor FILLED with weaving and spinning items ranging from spinning wheels, (yes . . .plural . . wheels, as in more than one) to yarn, wooL  and a ton of things that I don't have a clue what they are. 

Thankfully The Man was using his brain and had one of the neighbor kids come over on Saturday to help me bring all this stuff from the attic to the parlor where it is laid out like a showroom.  I doubt I could have been up and down those attic stairs more than once so Cooper, the kid, did all the lifting and carrying.  

And the reason for bringing it all down to the living room . . .   this morning we had a husband and wife from Indiana drive NINE hours to come see what The Man had for sale.  They had seen one of the items we had posted on Facebook and called us on Friday to say they were interested in the electric spinning wheel. (Who knew such a thing even existed! I sure as hell didn't.) Once The Man got talking to them they realized there was a treasure trove of things they wanted. And so they got into their car last night and drove all this way to come over here this morning where they almost cried when they saw what was here.  

This Indiana couple raise Alpacas and Lamas and the wife spins the hair from them into thread which she then weaves into who knows what. It was so awesome to see how excited she was over some of the stuff that we had here and it gave The Man a good feeling knowing his things were going to someone who REALLY appreciated them.  

Only problem is The Man is ready to sell all the other things that are here in this house and THAT means you know who will be digging in more closets and crannies. I think I'll go sit under that Maple tree so he can't find me. 

WARNING !!!!!! DREAMING MAY BE HAZARDOUS TO YOUR HEALTH !

 We live in an age of "Disclaimers" and warnings . . .   "Contents of cup may be hot",  "Swim at your own risk", and my personal favorite . . . "Do not stop on tracks".    I have said before and I will say it again, if you are THAT STUPID that you don't realize the hot coffee you just ordered is HOT or that if you stop on the rail road tracks. you may very likely get killed by a train then you don't deserve to be alive.   We are raising a nation of idiots that must be told everything and never be expected to use one ounce of common sense.  

That being said I do feel the need to post this warning about dreams.  

I have always dreamt . . . no matter if I am taking a half hour nap or sleeping twelve hours at night I will be dreaming the entire time.  My dreams are usually very entertaining and often seem very real.  As as child I had reoccurring dreams about a witch that lived in my parents bedroom at the top of the stairs.  I haven't dreamt of her in years.  Often I will dream of places that I have never been to in real life but I will visit them every year or so in my dreams.  I have no idea if these places are real or not.  Maybe they are from a previous life ?  I'll have to ask Shirley MacLaine about that.   And in case. you are wondering I dream in color.

All that being said . . . along with dreaming I talk in my sleep.  Alway have, apparently always will.  One of my most notable dream chats was when I was a freshman in college and my two roommates were up late studying. Since I never studied, (and almost flunked out that first year), I had gone to sleep earlier and although I have no idea WHAT I was dreaming about I still vividly remember coming awake telling my highly amused roommates, "There is grass in the rosary".  I never did live that one down and probably to this day if I were to meet these two women they would STILL remind me of that conversation.  

As the years have gone by I don't think I talk in my sleep much any more, at least The Man has not mentioned it if I do but instead I have developed an entirely new sleep issue.  I scream in my sleep. I will be dreaming that I am chasing someone and I want them to stop or I am shouting to make someone go away and I will SCREAM!  And I do mean scream, out loud, top of my voice and not only scare the bejebbers out of The Man but wake myself up.  Last night I did this TWICE !  The first time it was more of a little yell and I remember The Man reaching over and shaking me which really isn't necessary because as I have said, the shout always wakes me up. I remember muttering sorry, rolling over and going back to sleep. Within the hour I was dreaming again and this time the dream must have been disturbing enough that I was semi awake when I let out a blood curdling scream. The Man almost flew out of the bed and rather than the gentle nudge that I usually get he gave me a push to not only wake me up but to let me know I would be sleeping in the garage if I kept it up.  

As I lay there trying my damndest to suppress my giggles I really felt bad for the guy. I mean not only does he have severe COPD  he also has a heart that is only working at half its function. Waking him from a dead sleep with blood curdling screams can not be good for a healthy persons heart no less this poor guy who has a heart monitor/defibrillator implanted in his chest. The thought that I could cause The Man to have a heart attack immediately crossed my mind but then I remembered he did have this device in him so I really couldn't kill him. At least I hope not. 

I guess I will have to do some research to find out the cause of my yelling but until then I'll buy The Man some ear plugs.  

WHEN DID MY KIDS GET SO SMART ?

 My kids have ALWAYS been smart . . .   I'm sure every parent feels that way and even though I never drove around town with one of those dumb ass bumper stickers on my car announcing to the entire world that, "My Child is On the Honor Roll", or "My Child is Smarter Than Your Child" or whatever I always knew MY kids were much much smarter than anyone else's kids in the entire population of Long Island.

Oh sure there were times when I would ask myself if I had indeed given birth to a kumquat or an egg plant when one of my three would do something so amazingly stupid, (usually it was the youngest that managed the greatest feats of stupidity), but all in all the three of them are about the smartest people I know.  

My oldest child has pursued a career in Mathematics and works on things that I can't even pronounce no less compute.  He has always been driven to not just succeed but to excel in everything he does.  I love that he also manages to be a totally awesome dad and husband with a great sense of humor and compassion for those less fortunate than him. My daughter is a genius at being a mom and she is a natural leader and organizer when it comes to teaching and parenting. Her compassion and generosity overflow into all she does and her ability to get things done is outstanding.  I love that she has taught her children to think of others before they think of themselves. 

And then we have child number three who is by far the one who never ceases to amaze me.  This kid has always been the one who just rolled with what ever was going on with his two older siblings. He was the fifth wheel, the roll-away-bed in the motel room, the one who has no baby pictures to speak of because he was number three.  I spoiled him as a child because he was "My Baby" and his father would often shake his head in frustration when I made excuses for this kid. 

Little did I ever know that under that happy little face this child always felt insignificant and small. I knew he had an inferiority complex and I tried to boost his confidence as much as possible but I guess I didn't do all that great a job because I know he has struggled with "finding himself" for many years.  (Something I can identify with.) But in my eyes and the eyes of his siblings number three was super smart and lots of fun . . .  He just didn't believe it.

Until now . . . This smart "boy" has just published his second book and I am blown away with the insight and wisdom he shares in it.  The book, "Forever Forward" is the story of how he has changed himself and his life for the better. As I sit reading it I see the person that I always knew was there, it was just a matter of hm finding that person.  All the things that he refers to in the book are things that I have struggled with and probably things that his siblings and many of us struggle with also. But this child has taken that extra step and shared his journey with us.  

I am super proud of all of my children . . . the fact that they are so awesome in spite of growing up with a nut case for a mother is amazing in itself but write about it . . . well that just knocks my socks off. 

GETTING OUT OF MY HEAD

 God has got to be a very, very busy entity. I mean, He is in charge of the entire universe so why I would ever think that He has anything to do with events in my life is ridiculous.  Except it is not ridiculous, in fact it just so happens that I see His hand in just about every facet of my life.  Just the fact that I am here in Michigan with this man is totally God's work because left to my own devices I would be single and drunk for the rest of my life.  In stead God saw that I needed to be needed and so he brought me The Man.

In fact, if we want to go all the way back to 1966 when I graduated from college and suddenly realized I should have a job God put a representative from Central Islip School District at my college where I was hired on the spot for a position as a Kindergarten teacher. Going back even further to 1955 when I was in fourth grade I was chosen to go help the kindergarten teacher for a day and from that day on my goal was to teach these little five year olds.  Being an only child I had no siblings and none of my neighbors had little children so entering that kindergarten classroom all those years ago was like entering a world that I didn't even know existed and I fell in love with it immediately. 

Fast forward to college where I could easily have flunked out my Sophomore year God provided me with new friends who would teach me how to study and help get me through all those dull and boring classes necessary for a teaching degree.  Finding the job in CI led me to meet my husband-to-be and in turn he was put in my path to help me mature and become the person I am today.  Without Husband I would probably still be partying, broke and without a home or a bank account that provides me with a very good life.  Not to mention the absolute best part of marriage . . .  my children and grand children. 

All this was given to me as a gift from God . . .   And in return I try each and every day to "Do His Will". Life isn't about what you want, it's about what God wants and this is what I constantly have to remember when I"m feeling down. 

And I have been feeling down these past two weeks.  I've been feeling home sick and lonesome for those wonderful grand kids of mine. I miss my daughter and sons and their children.  I miss my Florida home and familiar surroundings. I miss my Florida friends and neighbors and my little garden. I even miss the two hundred degree with three hundred percent humidity days.  Oh Wait . . . I do NOT miss that ! 

It's not that I don't love this wonderful place up here and the kind man that puts up with me. I mean where else could you have your own private herd of deer that come to visit every evening just outside the back door.  At this moment I am sitting just inside the big sliding glass door in the parlor watching five deer and two big sand cranes walking around not a hundred feet away.  It's wonderful , , , but it is not home.

And so when I got feeling sad and sorry for myself this past weekend I got to thinking just why am I here? I mean, I could be anywhere that I wanted to be. Have no "obligation" to be here, no promises were made to stay here for the summer. I could just pick up and leave at any time.  The Man would understand, (because that is the good person that he is), and I could fly home and then fly back in a few weeks when I was recharged. All these thoughts played through my head and I was almost convincing myself that it would be OK to leave The Man on his own for a while. I talked to God Saturday afternoon as I drove to mass and then home again. (Conversations with God are quite common for me when I am in the car alone.) I asked God to let me know what He wanted me to do and this morning He answered me. 

Part of the reason I have been wanting to go home is to see my doctors and catch up on some long overdue appointments that should have been done back in March when Covid shut everything down.  I ALWAYS have some sort of dumb physical issue plaguing me and I really wanted to see my Florida doctors who know me and take care of me. This craziness with my leg and foot had me really wanting to see my familiar physicians but flying to Florida would mean chancing getting Covid and worse, bringing it back to The Man.  I knew this but my selfish brain was rationalizing and telling me I should just think of my self and make the trip. (Good old Satan loves to play with our brains and he puts all sorts of thoughts in our heads.) 

But God is stronger and this morning I got an appointment with a wonderful doctor up here that The Man uses when he needs something immediately and can't get to the VA that is an hour away. I have met Dr. Hartman several times in the past four years when The Man has gone to see him so I knew I liked him.  My visit to him today was EXCELLENT !  He spent about forty minutes with me and we worked out some of the mysteries of my leg and foot. I came out of there feeling great and knowing that I did not have to run home like a baby to see a "good" doctor.  But knowing me like He does God knew I needed a little extra reassurance that I was indeed where I was supposed to be doing what He wants me to do. When I got home The Man was taking a nap, which he does almost every day. But today he slept over two hours and I was starting to get concerned when he shuffled out of the bedroom .  He still looked tired and when I asked him if he was all right he told me he was just not feeling right.  He had started a new medication on Saturday and he thought maybe it was making him feel out of sorts so he was going to stop the medication. I suggested he call the prescribing doctor and talk to her first just in case.  An hour later and several calls back and forth he feels better mentally but is still not feeling great physically.  I made him some soup and sent him back to bed for the evening. 

God wants me HERE !  The Man is not healthy and I am totally convinced that God has me here in The Man's life to take care of him. He's not a healthy man by any means but he has some things in his life that he needs to work on while he is still around.  I see it that I'm here to help him get those things done. 

Is that prideful ? Am I reading this all the wrong way ?  Who knows.  What I do know is that I feel so much better this evening knowing I have made the right decision to stay here and I also know that no matter what God wants of me He won't have me doing it alone.  

DO YOU HAVE AN APPOINTMENT ??

Please correct me if I am wrong, (and I have been known to be wrong once or twice in my seventy five years), but I always thought the point of making an appointment was so that you have a specific time to be in a specific place to complete a specific task.  By having an appointment all parties involved know ahead of time just who will be where at a particular time to do whatever.  That way everyone is prepared with the necessary tools to accomplish the task at hand. We make appointments with doctors so that the doctor will have our records and medical history all ready in order to access our current situation. We make appointments for job interviews, lunches with friends and at the Motor Vehicle Department. (Although that last one is a joke because you NEVER get out of the DMV in less than a day whether you have an appointment or not.)  We make appointments so that we can choose a time we like and so that the other parties involved are not waiting around twiddling their fingers waiting for us to show up or vice versa.   Appointments are GOOD ! 

 I like making appointments and filling in the little boxes on my calendar so that all I have to do is look at my calendar on the wall and know just what my week/day is going to involve.  I LOVE it when I can see an empty box on my calendar and know I have nothing planned for that particular day. It is like Christmas to have a "free" day and my mind runs rampant with the possibilities of what I will do with all that free time. (Usually those plans never come to fruition but its fun to dream.)  Likewise I like knowing a week ahead of time just where I need to be at a given time on a given day so that I can plan around those upcoming appointments.

SO . . . Why does The Man arrive at an appointment forty-five minutes early and then get pissed when he can not be seen immediately ?  This is my "Point to Ponder" for today.  

Every Tuesday and Thursday The Man has a standing appointment to attend an hour long session of Pulmonary Rehab at a hospital that is a forty-five minute drive away from his house.  This "class" that he attends has three hospital staff workers in attendance to monitor the people who are "working out".  The class runs from twelve noon until one o'clock. I don't know what the staff does before and after this class but I do know they are there for the pulmonary session from 12:00 -1:00.  It is during this ONE HOUR time slot that The Man is expected to be in attendance. 

How good are your math skills ?         If a train leaves the station heading East . . . .  OH Wait . . .  That's not the math problem I was talking about.      My math problem is: If a Man has an APPOINTMENT to attend a class at twelve noon and it will take him forty five minutes to drive to this class what time does he have to leave his house to get to the appointment on time?   According to my calculations I have deduced The Man should leave his house forty -five minutes before the noon appointment which would mean he should leave his house no later than eleven-fifteen.  Did I do the math correctly ?

I do realize that in order to get to an appointment on time one should usually factor in an extra fifteen to thirty minutes for the unexpected. There could be road construction, fog, car problems, traffic or an invading horde of Mongolian grass hoppers.  You just never know so it is always wise to leave a little extra travel time "JUST IN CASE".  So with all this in mind WHY does The Man begin pacing the kitchen "waiting" for me an hour and forty five minutes before his scheduled appointment?  I understand an HOUR before.    I understand FORTY-FIVE MINUTES before but NOT an hour AND forty-five minutes.

EVERY Tuesday and Thursday this is exactly what happens at ten fifteen each of those days . . . At about nine fifteen The Man wakes me up so that I can "GET READY" to ride with him to rehab.  As I have told you in the past I can get out of bed and be ready to roll in less than twenty minutes but he insists on waking me an hour and a half earlier.  (The fact that it is taken for granted that I will accompany The Man each Tuesday and Thursday has not been brought up for discussion. I do believe The Man is fully capable of making this trip ALONE but then again maybe he is not. So although I would MUCH rather have a couple of hours to myself while he is at rehab I ride along with him, sit in the car for an hour while he is in working out and then ride home with him. It is a great time for me to sit and so nothing, which I am becoming VERY good at, but is it really necessary?). 

After The Man wakes me, (he has been up for at least two hours at this point because it takes him that long to wake up and get ready), I get up and ready to go in about a half hour.  (I try to "drag my feet" in order to not be ready too soon otherwise we would be leaving the house at nine thirty.) By nine forty-five The Man is starting to get fidgety because, after all, he HAS been up and ready for at least three hours.  I purposely get something to eat for breakfast and take my time eating while he is now moving closer and closer to the door. So far I have managed to slow him down enough that we arrive at the twelve noon rehab appointment only forty five minutes early. Each day that we get there this early The Man is "surprised" that we are there so quickly.   DUH !   By the time he gets himself out of the car and into the facility he is at least a half hour early for the class.  

Little did the staff realize that when The Man arrived ten minutes early on the first day and they told him it was OK that this would escalate by five minutes each session. I figure by the middle of September we will be going to Rehab on Monday and Wednesday.

NO PARKING !!! OR STANDING !!!! OR DRIVING !!!

 I must be feeling much better because The Man is annoying the hell out of me.  That is always a good sign.  Once again I am in total disbelief regarding the Male Brain and how it operates, if it operates at all.

Let me first try to give you an idea of the property we are living on. It is BEAUTIFUL !  The Man's house sits at the end of a long "U" shaped driveway.  When you turn in off of Days River Road you follow the dirt track through the woods for about two hundred feet where it opens up to a "field" where the house, barn and garage sit. The garage is at the end of the drive way, going another hundred feet or so sits the house and another hundred feet past the house is the barn.  The property is surrounded on three sides by woods and on the West side, about a quarter of a mile away, across two other fields is the "highway". 

When we turn in off Days River Road we drive up the first and less used driveway which brings us past the "front" or West side of the house. We drive across the yard, turn left between the barn and the South side of the house and then turn left again to park outside the back door on the East side of the house.  The Man needs to park right outside the door of the house so he only has to walk about six steps to the door where his oxygen hose awaits. (The hose is attached to the concentrator that sits in the kitchen and is always running.) In order to walk the six steps from the car to the house The Man needs his portable oxygen machine that he uses while driving. (so far it provides sufficient air for driving but that will eventually not be enough and he will have to go to a tank or portable concentrator.  When we travel in the RV he is hooked up to a portable concentrator but for the car he is good with the little portable machine that is about the size of a Stephen King novel.)

Anyway . . . .   The car is parked outside the back door along with the ride on lawn mower, the tractor and a few feet further away, the RV. It is a Hill Billy parking lot. All the vehicles are within walking distance for The Man and each vehicle is equipped with its own tank of oxygen. It is a well thought out arrangement.  I could care less about what is parked outside and where it is parked because we are in the country and there are no neighbors that we have to be fancy for.  

Next to this side of the house there is a small cement patio with a round table and four chairs. (Remember the wrought iron chair I dropped on my toe? This is where it came from.). Between this patio and the garage is a LARGE Maple tree with a big, heavy wooden picnic table sitting in the shade of the tree.  It's a wonderful spot and I love to sit out here. Up until this year this picnic table sat out on the grass in the sun near the tractor and lawn mower. I got some guys to move it under the tree so I can sit out there and, well, have a picnic.)

But there is ONE thing that disrupts this perfect setting . . .  The septic tank . . .  This necessity of country living is buried about twelve feet straight out from the back door.  And NOTHING . . . I MEAN NOTHING . . .  must ever be parked, driven or stood upon this most sacred depository.  (I have never had to deal with a septic tank just outside my door so this is all new to me.  When I lived on Long Island we had a cesspool but it was located out in the middle of the front lawn where no one drove.) 

Now considering the amount of vehicles that inhabit the space on this side of the house it is amazing to me that no one who visits has ever parked here. But anyone who knows The Man also knows where the septic tank is and is sure to stay far, far away.  Most people park next to the Maple tree and the patio but occasionally an unsuspecting traveler will drive straight ahead when entering the "main" driveway and park up close to the house.  There is an old laundry drying arrangement made up of two "T" shaped metal poles with rope strung between them.  This contraption sits directly between the septic tank and the area at the end of the driveway.  For many years this has been the "Stop" Sign so to speak to keep people from driving too close to where the septic tank is. Although there was one woman who drove straight up the driveway and parked UNDER the drying rack.  The Man had a canary and made her move her car immediately. (Correct me if I'm wrong but aren't septic tanks made of concrete ??? Aren't roads made of concrete? I'm just saying . . . )

About a week ago we were sitting out on the patio and The Man announced that he would like to take down the old laundry drying rack seeing how we NEVER EVER hang anything outside.  I replied that this was probably a very good idea. (Now just because he is thinking about this now does NOT mean this is going to happen any time in the next century.) He continued to say that he really would like to take the drying rack down BUT . . .   (And here is where I am questioning his sanity.) . . . if he takes the drying rack down then people won't know they shouldn't park there and they will end up parking on top of the septic tank. (A reasonable assumption.) SO I suggested he just purchase a "DO NOT PARK" sign, stick it in the ground in front of the septic tank that would be that.  HIS solution to this problem is to move the picnic table,  (that weighs about five hundred pounds), over to the grass in front of the septic tank.  

I have always assumed that picnic tables were made to sit at when you are having a picnic. Placing this table where he wants it means it is now in the full sun ALL day and it is sitting nearly on top of a smelly septic tank. (Yes, when the conditions are right there is a distinct odor wafting through the air in the vicinity of "The Hillbilly Parking Lot". ) I do not think I or anyone else would enjoy sitting in the hot sun having a picnic when the air smells like . . . well . . . a septic tank.  The Man's reasoning is that a picnic table will keep people from parking in that spot as opposed to a sign that says, "NO PARKING" .   Granted the table IS larger than a sign but I think it is a little extreme. 

Especially when I know I am the one who would be asked to move the damn thing !  

MICHIGAN MALADIES

 There should be a warning sign in flashing bright lights posted at the Michigan state line saying

"WARNING !!!!!  ENTERING THIS STATE COULD BE HAZARDOUS TO YOUR HELTH !"

We left Florida in mid May and arrived in the UP three days later. I thought I was in fairly good health when I left home but since arriving here I am being plagued by numerous WEIRD health issues. And I do mean weird ! And of course being in a different state I have no doctors up here, only the small walk-in clinic that I use in "emergencies".  

If you have been following my blog you are aware of some of the crazy things I'm experiencing but today I thought I would just make a list to see if any of it makes sense to me or anyone out there reading this. 

I have always had back problems probably because I have always been fat.  Back issues and "obesity" go hand in hand and up to this point I was willing to put up with the occasional twinges and debilitating pain that would strike at the most inopportune times if it meant I could continue to eat ice cream and cake. Having discovered that regular visits to the chiropractor and the massage therapist keep my back in fairly good working order I have gotten pretty lax about exercise and diet. So after traveling three days in the car to get from Florida to Michigan eating only at fast food stops I fully expected to have some back issues but to my surprise I was fine.  In fact I was better than fine. When we got up here I was all about working outside whacking weeds and pruning trees.  I was having a blast working outside in the cool, breezy Michigan days. I actually managed to go pain free for almost six weeks. I still am having issues with my lousy shoulder that still needs replacing but I could manage that discomfort with some Bayer Back and Body pills.  

Maybe it was the change in weather that started my body falling apart or maybe it was all that gardening catching up to me but about mid-July things started going down hill like an out of control Olympic skier on a ski jump. My back started giving me twinges more often and my knees both started aching and swelling. Then when I dropped the wrought iron chair on my pinkie toe things really started snow balling out of control.  Limping around on a maybe broken toe caused both knees to REALLY start swelling. When the knees swelled I started walking even wackier which then got my sciatic nerve all fired up. I had pains shooting down my right leg, past the swollen knee down to the right foot with its busted pinkie toe. While all that was going on my left hip started flaring up with it's usual tight muscles and achy back. I couldn't sleep on my right side because of the sciatica and I couldn't sleep on my left side because of the bum shoulder.  Can't sleep on my stomach because that irritated the herniated discs in my back and if I try to sleep on my back EVERYTHING starts to hurt.  

It was about at this point that I dug out the heavy duty Tylenol with Codeine that I have left over from some dental surgery a couple of years ago.  Maybe it is mind over matter but it did seem to help enough to get a decent nights sleep.  Which was a good thing because we were going camping for three nights in the RV and I knew I wasn't going to be having much fun if all these aches and pains continued. Thankfully God knew I needed those couple of days away because the entire time we camped I had almost no pain at all.  Apparently it was being saved up for our return. Once back from camping it all hit the fan and that was when I resorted to going to the walk-in where they tried to figure out what was going on but they really didn't have a clue. My pinky toe was no longer black and blue but now I had a strange "bruise" on the side of my knee. It just appeared one day, out of no where with no pain or additional swelling.  One day there was nothing,  the next I had a four inch long black and blue mark. I swear I did not hit it or anything . . . it just appeared.  About a week after that bruise one of my toes on my right foot started to hurt and when I took a shower that night it too had a big bruise right below the nail.  Again, I did not bump it or anything.  As all this was going on I was experiencing the most God Awful pain shooting down my leg from knee to foot. It would just come on and be so painful I would be in tears.  I decided it was the sciatic nerve so I started icing my back on and off all day and went back to the walk-in who once again didn't have a clue.  

Add to all this nonsense my usual tummy troubles that send me running for the potty at the most inconvenient times and the fact that I am hearing voices in my ear . . . oh wait . . . that's just the hearing aid battery telling me it is going dead . . . Oh Thank God . . . I thought for a minute I was really goner.  

Anyway . . .   I COULD/SHOULD take some action here and maybe eat healthier, get more exercise, take less pills, drink a LOT more, (water, not alcohol) and perhaps I would be a lot healthier.  But then what would I have to write about ?  And besides that, NONE of the above aliments is anything compared to the BHZ that has appeared on my face.  (That would be . . . BIG HONKING ZIT!).  Never in my life, even in my most adolescent acne days have I EVER had a zit like this.   I am talking Mt. Vesuvius !  This sucker started a couple of days ago and by this morning had taken over half my lower face and swelled my lip to the point of having difficulty speaking.  (Slight exaggerations here but it hurt like hell!). I have been wiping it down with rubbing alcohol which has done nothing so now I'm trying hot compresses which do seem to be helping.  Meanwhile in the back of my mind I'm wondering if the MRSA infection that I had in March has returned to kill me with giant zits.

Anything is possible up here in the U P !  If the bears don't kill you some random bizarre illness will. 

I AM working on getting myself a doctor up here but that may be another ordeal.  

THE MAN IN THE MOON IS PICKING HIS NOSE

 I had a chat this morning with my Michigan chiropractor who is doing a good job of keeping me standing upright.  Not an easy task when living up here with The Man and his chores.  (How The Man can travel an hour each way, two days a week,  to do pulmonary therapy for an hour of walking on a tread mill and riding a stationary bike but can not feed the deer, carry things in from the car or go anywhere alone is beyond me.). But all that is an entirely different blog.

Back to my conversation with Kevin the chiropractor.  Kevin is a real nice guy and is doing wonders for this stupid pain in my leg. After today's adjustment we stood talking for a few minutes and the conversation came around to men not listening.  He brought it up, not me.  Can't even remember how it happened but he actually admitted that he does not listen to half of what his wife says. She is a lovely young lady and not the sort of person you would choose to tune out as soon as they open their mouthes. In fact she even seems to be a bit quiet but that just may be because she is keeping things "professional". 

This is the FIRST time in my life that I have EVER had a man admit he DOES NOT LISTEN. Amazing and unfortunately I did not get it on tape.  The fact that Kevin admitted this male trait hit home today because of the events of this morning. I staggered out of the bed room at 9:30 AM  to get ready for my 10:15 chiropractor appointment and vaguely wondered why The Man had not gotten me up before this.  He usually wakes me about two hours before we need to go anywhere because it takes him two hours to get out of the house.  I can get out of bed and be out the door in fifteen minutes if necessary, especially when it means getting an extra hour sleep.  So this morning I was surprised at first that he had not gotten me up earlier but then realized EXACTY what the problem was.  The Man had not been listening yesterday or Wednesday when I had told him numerous times during those two days that I had a TEN FIFTEEN chiropractor appointment on Friday.  I understand that my expectations are too high, thinking first of all that The Man is listening to anything I say and secondly that The Man could retain information about anyone but himself for more than two nanoseconds.  But I do believe in miracles so I persist in my hopes. 

I stopped in the kitchen this morning and said, "Did you remember I have a 10;15 chiropractor appointment today?"   I will give you three seconds to guess exactly what The Man said . . .    "You never told me that!" .  . . . Yup !  He actually said those words.  Apparently he really is that stupid or he has a death wish because at that moment I would have hit him up side his head with a 2 X 4 except for the fact that I totally expected that answer.  (It would not have mattered normally because I would have taken the car and gone by myself but with my droopy, tingly foot I am hesitant to drive.  That will come to a quick halt if I keep doing as good as the past two days.)

It was a quiet trip into town, partly because The Man was not totally awake (He had only been awake an hour and a half) and partly because he was busy thinking about what he was going to be doing for the rest of the day, (basically nothing).  I know this because any time he did speak it was to remind me of another thing I had to remind him to do.( Things like, check the mailbox, look for a phone number, and take a pill for his swollen ankles.) One of our stops was to get rid of the sixty or more beer cans that have not been returned for their deposit since May.  Thanks to Covid-19 the only place you can now return cans and bottles is at stores that have automatic machines that you feed the cans into. This is a time consuming task that I got to do before going into the grocery to shop.  (Again . . . taking all the LIGHT WEIGHT empty BEER cans ...I don't drink beer . . . out of the trunk where I had put them last week, putting them into a shopping cart, walking the cart about twenty feet and then standing by the machine feeding the cans into the machine is all WAY TOO STRENUOUS for The Man who drives an hour twice a week to exercise.) So the woman with the bad back and dead foot got to do it all.  (At least I'm not walking like Quasimodo any more.). Once I finished the bottles and cans I went into the grocery store to spend the $13.20 that I had made on the refund.  I had a list for ice cream and $.99 pork shoulder that his brother told us was on sale. I HAD to go get as many pork shoulders as possible because . . .   wait for it . . .   The Man's son is FLYING here in September and he will want to take some pork back with him to Alaska. (Apparently they do not have pigs in Alaska!)   I won't even go there with all that, just know that I humored The Man and shopped for pork. It was at this point that I decided to walk to the back of the store and pick up some yogurt for myself for breakfast. Since I was going down the freezer aisle for The Man's ice cream I also picked up a couple of frozen dinners for the nights when I just don't feel like cooking.  Add to that a couple of fresh peaches, some milk and a THIRTY pack of beer that was also on sale.  

As I was getting into the car after putting everything in the trunk and having been gone for maybe a half hour total The Man says to me, "I didn't think we needed that much."  Which I translated to, "What in God's name did you buy? " And, "What took you so long?"  Thankfully I was taking large gulps of water from my water bottle so I did not have to respond immediately. All the while thinking, "I am going to kill him" . As we drove down the road on the way home he once again asked what I had bought and if  I did get the pork ? I told him I got the pork and it was at that EXACT moment I saw the "lights" go out in his brain. He had now opened "THE NOTHING BOX" in his brain and was no longer with me.

As we drove along  I started to tell him what else I bought but seeing that he was fully immersed in "The Nothing Box" I just stopped talking and thought to myself, "If I said, 'The Man in the Moon is Picking His Nose', would my man notice ?"                  I doubt it ! 

WAKE UP ! YOUR TOE IS RINGING !!!!

I have been "awake" since six this morning.  Well, sort of awake.  I got up to pee at six and never really got back to sleep. Instead I drifted in and out of sleep while my brain composed different blogs that I could write today.  Some titles included, "Power Points of Prayer" (That one may have put you all to sleep),  

"I have a Zit", (I have no idea where that one was going but since I DO have a zit at 75 years old I thought it might be a good start for a blog.) 

"Drugs, Sex and Rock and Roll", (a blast from the 60's) 

And this most recent event, "I Think I swallowed My Battery"

I can't remember the other forty ideas that played through my head during my two and a half hours of sloppy sleep early this morning and I would probably still be flopping around trying to get comfortable except my big toe started ringing.

Yes,  I said my big toe was RINGING !   Well, actually it did not make any noise but it felt exactly like my phone does when I have it on vibrate when someone calls. In my half stupor of "sleep" this morning I first thought I had fallen asleep last night with my phone next to me and it had gotten down to the bottom of the bed where it was resting on my toe.  But that was not the case at all.  The ringing, (vibrating) or to be exact the tingling was coming from my big toe. 

I will take a moment to back up a bit and return to the blog I posted two or three weeks ago talking about the pain in my leg.  I haven't written any more on that topic because although I did not die I have, at several times, wished I was dead . . . just so the pain would stop.  Not really, I NEVER wish I was dead even in the worst of pain but I DO pray like crazy for relief and thankfully God ALWAYS answer my prayers one way or another.  (Did you know you can offer up your pain to God for the poor souls in Purgatory?  You can and I always do but that goes into the "Power Points of Prayer" blog that I will hopefully write one day soon. I'll warn you ahead of time so you can bring your pillow.)

Back to the leg pain . . .   I went to the walk in medical, I had an x-ray of my knee, I took steroids for five days, I returned to the walk in and got different pills and I went to the chiropractor.  All that held the pain at bay long enough, (and here I give total credit to the Lord), for us to go camping last week for four days and three nights at the beautiful Lake Goegebic about three hours from here. During that time my leg was fine and even with sleeping in the RV on fold out beds I slept fantastic and felt wonderful.  BUT . . . when we got back my leg kicked back into hyper drive. The pain comes and goes and is usually manageable and once I find that comfortable spot in the bed I can sleep all night.  So I guess that wasn't enough for Satan or who ever is playing with me because I then started to loose all ability to bend my right foot at the ankle, toes to nose. That charming addition would also come and go, usually proceeded by the pain shooting down my leg and across my foot.  I am told this is called, "Drop Foot" and I DO NOT L IKE IT !!!   I stumbled around here walking like Quasimodo dragging my leg/foot behind me.  It was not pretty or fun and I almost killed myself several times tripping on my dragging foot.  The best was when it happened while I was driving.  Ever try to move a dead foot from the gas to the brake ?   I don't suggest it !

SO . . . with this pleasant little "complication" and one evening of pain so severe I was begging God to make it stop, which he did after about ten minutes. (Sometimes you just have to get his attention and let him know you are serious and then be patient.) I called my friend Theresa who is the smartest person I know when it comes to muscles and nerves.  She walked my brain through different possibilities and although we did not come up with a total diagnosis we did come up with a couple of possibilities, all of which involved further doctor visits.  But she put my mind at ease and really really helped me to get a handle on all this.  

One of the possibilities, which I am leaning toward only because it is the "simple" explanation, is that my sciatic nerve is acting up. It fits all the profiles and because I had a short bout of sciatic pain last winter while in Florida I am thinking this is the problem.

Yesterday I went to the Michigan Chiropractor, Kevin and we went over all the symptoms which he also thought were pointing toward sciatica. I felt really good when I left there and my foot didn't drop once until last night just before I went to bed.  

Then at 8:15 this morning my toe started ringing !   It must have been the chiropractor calling to tell me to come back in tomorrow morning for another adjustment.    

JUNKIEST JUNK DRAWER EVER

I realize that the fact that a "junk Drawer" is called a junk drawer is because it contains . . .  well . . . 

JUNK !  All that stuff that you just don't know where to put it or are too lazy to put away gets shoved into the "Junk Drawer".    I don't think I know of a single person who does NOT have a junk drawer but I'm sure you are out there some where.  The circle of friends that I hang with usually have a "Junk Room" as opposed to only a drawer and that is just as it should be.  People who don't have clutter of some sort stashed somewhere in their home are not to be trusted.  Those are the sort of persons who toss away EVERYTHING that is non essential and to me that is not a good trait.  You NEED some crap in your life to keep you honest and humble. 

BUT . . .   NEVER in my life have I encountered a junk drawer the likes of the one in The Man's kitchen.  

If you have read any of my previous blogs you know that The Man keep EVERY THING !!!!!  The entire property, (not just the house but the large, multi room garage) is filled with STUFF.  We can blame it on his wife and her penchant for "collecting" but since she is deceased well over nine years you really would have thought The Man would have gotten rid of some of the stuff that fills the property. (After all, this is The Man who built an in-ground pool and then filled it back in only four years later because it was too much work.  I guess the clutter that abounds in this place does not require any maintenance so therefor it just remains.  If it were alive and required feeding or walking it probably would have been gone years ago.)

I have finally begun to get The Man cleaning out some stuff but it is a SLOW and PAINFUL process.  I need to choose my timing and enthusiasm very carefully. One of the BIG things I am itching to attack are the drawers and cabinets in the kitchen. The kitchen is very very small but has numerous cabinets and drawers ALL filled to overflowing.  The other day I asked if we could go through one drawer that contains all sorts of things like forty two Mellon ballers of varying sizes, at least three ice cream scoops, spatulas and serving spoons up the wazoooooooo.  Seeing how there are only the two of us here and we do NOT cook massive intricate meals I really don't think we need much more than one spatula and one ice cream scoop.  I can't remember the last time I "balled a melon".  When I do cook I REALLY would like to be able to open a drawer, reach into it and see exactly what I wanted without a fifteen minute treasure hunt. 

You would have thought I had asked to rip out his heart . . .  The Man couldn't speak clearly because he was so horrified that I wanted to "get rid" of anything in the precious kitchen drawer.  His immediate answer was, "What if DJ needs some of the stuff in there?" (DJ is The Man's son who lives thirty five hundred miles away in Alaska. DJ has owned his own home for well over twenty five years so I seriously doubt there could be anything in that drawer that "The Boy" would want. ) I explained that I was NOT going to throw anything away, just put all the things we don't use into a box to make some room in the drawer.  It was a NO GO . . . and that drawer remains as jammed packed as it did when I first came here four years ago. 

NEXT on my list of "itchy finger projects" is the "Junk Drawer" which resides in the same tiny kitchen and is filled with . . .   you guessed it . . .  JUNK !!!!!!   But little did I realize just how junkie the junk draw was.  There are only two things that I was aware of residing in this swamp of a drawer.  A pair of scissors and the propane lighter that we use for the fire pit. Those two items sit in the very front of the junk drawer and are the only two things that have seen the light of day in the past three centuries.  I had NO idea what else was residing in there until today.  

I must confess I have been plotting my attack for several weeks now.  I lay awake at night thinking about how and when I will get cleaning out that drawer.  I have seriously thought about getting up in the middle of the night and attacking while the man is sleeping but that is just too devious even for me.  And so today when The Man was sitting at the kitchen table talking to a doctor on the phone I casually opened the drawer and began to take out a few items.  I was very nonchalant hoping The Man would not realize what I was doing but he seems to have an uncanny ability to tell when I am cleaning anything. I could see he was watching my every move and when I had removed about five things he began waving his arms and shaking his head to tell me to stop.  I smiled and waved back and continued to remove a few more things.  

I managed to clear out about three inches from the front of the drawer before I stopped . . . I could tell he was not happy with me and didn't want him to have a stroke while on the phone.  

Here's what I found in that small space at the very front of that drawer . . . in addition to the two items I already mentioned there were a large assortment of nails and screws, several rubber bands and hair clips, some chip clips, three screw drivers, a box of pellets for a pellet gun, two light switches, a couple of boxes of matches with about three matches in each, some old cough drops, a couple of dried up ball point pens, three big old keys AND  . . . a half smoked cigarette.  

I held up the cigarette with a questioning look on my face and he had no response other than the obvious, "I don't know where THAT came from".  

I was allowed to throw out the cigarette but all the other things were put in a plastic bag and set on the kitchen table so he can go through them at a later date to make sure he knows what's in the bag in case he needs any of it !   

And you wonder why I drink !