TOXIC FUMES

Just when you think it can't get any worse there is ALWAYS just one more thing that slaps you up side your head to remind you that,  YES,  there is always something else that can go wrong and assuredly will do just that.

I consider myself an optimist . . . little miss Pollyanna always looking for the bright side and giving wonderful spiritual uplifting advice.  "F" THAT. !!!!  Over this past month I have exceeded my lifetime allotment of cursing, swearing and calling on God to "MAKE IT STOP!"  God is shaking His head and telling me to learn from all the shit that is pouring down each and every day.  I'm trying to do something good here but it is getting pretty ridiculous.

Today's reminder that I am just a speck of dust in the whole scheme of things and should not get pissy when things go "wrong" was when I filled my house with toxic fumes so bad that The Man and I are now living on the lanai for the next 3 weeks. Thankfully Pollyanna can say that is not a bad thing to have to be homeless right now since the sun is shining, the weather is warm and beautiful but I really have to pee and the house is still filled with smoke. (The neighbors might frown on me peeing in the garden.)

It all started yesterday when I realized once again that I had over done my food intake and now was paying the price of an inflamed colon.  I can go months without a flare up but once I get too sure of myself and start eating all those things that I shouldn't then it is months of payback until I can get my intestines to settle back down.  I think the macadamia nut incident may have been the breaking point. 

It's Christmas and people send all sorts of "goodies" in the mail to help you celebrate the holidays.  One too many nut filled candy bars or one too many sugar cookies and my innards are flared up and I am in pain. I had been eating excessive amounts of nuts and stuff before the macadamia nuts so when I cleaned out my system after the allergic reaction to the nasty little nuts I thought I had dodged a bullet.  NOT !!

Yesterday my innards let me know they were not happy with how I had been treating them and they sent out some warning signs to quit eating EVERYTHING until things settled back down.  Heaven forbid I not eat for 24 hours . . . I might wither away to nothing.  (If only).  But I did keep my food intake down to a piece of toast and some special tea that is supposed to help calm things down in the nether regions of my intestines.  Only problem is that the tea is a collection of seeds and leaves that need to be steeped in boiling water. OK, no problem . . .  I decided to fill a small pan with water, add the leaves and bring it all to a boil. Voila !!  Real tea with honey that really did make my tummy feel better.  I left the pan on the stove so that I could make another batch of tea this morning. I turned off the burner and went to bed.

Fast forward to this morning when I was feeling slightly better physically. (Mentally I am a hot mess) I got up knowing I would not eat anything for the day so I escaped to the guest bedroom to stay away from temptations in the kitchen.  I got working on cleaning out my computer desk which led to cleaning off all the book shelves and sorting through boxes of pens, paper and the like.  By 1:00 I still hadn't taken my morning meds so I decided to heat up another batch of tea.  Being a total and complete DUMB ASS I filled the pot with water and tea leaves, turned on the burner and went back into the guest bedroom to finish putting stuff away.  I swear I was only in there a few minutes when I went back into the kitchen which was FILLED FILLED FILLED with smoke. TOXIC SMOKE !!

Dumb Ass me had turned on the wrong burner. Sitting ON that "wrong" burner were my 4 plastic Christmas drink glasses.   Note to self, "Heat and Plastic DO NOT mix!"  The glasses were melting all over the burner while producing the most noxious smell imaginable.  The smoke from this disaster filled the entire condo so badly that I could see it in every room.  Luckily The Man had been avoiding me and my nasty disposition by sitting out on the lanai so he wasn't breathing in this God awful smoke.  I quickly ran through the house opening all the doors and windows and turning all the ceiling fans along with the exhaust fans in both bathrooms and the kitchen. We had to move out to the far side of the lanai away form the smoke wafting out the doors and The Man had to hook up to his tank of oxygen because the concentrator in the living room was sucking in the toxic fumes before sending them on to The Man.

At the moment The Man is asleep in one of the reclining chairs on the lanai, the house is still airing out and I am sitting here thinking of ways to kill myself before this idiocy gets any worse.  Because you know it WILL get worse and worse and worse until I figure out just what the hell it is that God is trying to tell me. 

CHRISTMAS IS CANCELLED

 It is official . . .  Christmas is cancelled !!  Bah Freaking Humbug ! ! !

I told The Man NOT to ask what else could possibly go wrong after the past week's disasters. But NO, he HAD to say it, . . . "WHAT ELSE CAN POSSIBLY GO WRONG?"   Dumb Ass !  Doesn't he know not to tempt the God's by saying things like that. 

Today is Christmas Eve.  The Man and I baked cookies yesterday.  It was wonderful.  The cookie dough was the perfect consistency for rolling and cutting so the sugar cookies all came out looking good. (Except for the one small batch that I managed to burn.  So what's new?). The baking and the clean-up went smoothly and all was well with the world.  

Was it possible that our black cloud of doom FINALLY lifted from over our heads?

HA !!!!!  That would be way too much to ask.

This morning we got up and started preparing the last few things for tomorrow's celebration. The Man cut the ribs, seasoned them and popped them into the oven to slow cook. I got out all the serving dishes and cleaned out the fridge to make room for tomorrows bar-b que.  No big fancy roast for us. We are going simple and easy. The 5 grand kids don't want a fancy sit down dinner so we were having sliders, dogs and ribs.  

Note I said, "we were having".  PAST TENSE

Yup, Christmas is cancelled.  NO dinner of any sort. No grand kids, no excitement, no gifts. NADA, NOTHING, ZERO.

I texted my daughter this morning to ask her to call me when she had a moment so we could set up our plan for tomorrow.  I didn't hear from her for a while. Little did I know she was busy trying to get an "at- home" Covid test kit.  My 10 year old grand son has tested positive for Covid.  He feels fine, in fact he feels BETTER than fine. He is so excited about Christmas. He is still a believer.  

Back up to Tuesday when Finn and I spent most of the day together shopping for his parents and sister. When we got home to his house after our shopping spree Finn put his gifts under the tree and then went out to play with his friends.  The next day my daughter told me how Finn had come home crying because he stepped in dog poop.  (He actually stepped in and slid through dog poop.). My daughter and her husband tried to calm Finn down but there was no consoling him.  They were suspicious that there was more to the issue and sure enough the next day Finn had a low grade fever and was just down for the count. This is not unusual for this child . . .  ever since he was about 3 Finn has had "monthly" fevers.  Low grade fever and lethargic for 24 hours. After many many doctors it was diagnosed as a "thing" that many kids suffer from when their vitamin D is low.  Finn now takes regular doses of the vitamin and is fever free unless he is stressed. Christmas excitement constitutes "stress" so the fever was no surprise to my daughter. 

Until today when Finn's fever went up to 103 . . .  sensing something was off Keri tracked down a Covid test kit and swabbed Finn's nose and VOILA !  Covid positive.  

If The Man did not have COPD I would have ignored all this and said, "COME ON OVER" but we really can't take chances. My youngest child and his children were supposed to come up for the day tomorrow but they are afraid I might be contagious.   ME ?????   Yup, a valid concern since I spent all day Tuesday with the walking Petri dish called Finn.   

 I feel fine but I am so disappointed I spent an hour crying.  Maybe I'm not OK.  

But then I put it all in perspective and realized it could be, and probably will be, a lot worse so we will continue to push on and see what is in store for us next.  

YOU KNOW YOU'RE IN TROUBLE WHEN . . .

 My life has officially sunk so far into the toilet that I am praying someone would just please FLUSH ! Helloooooooo,  anyone ??????   Please just pull the plunger and put a stop to this insanity. (Oh wait, you can't flush because this morning our toilet in the master bathroom started running and won't stop so we had to turn off the water.)

I know I am in big trouble because when I FINALLY got home today and grabbed my holiday wine glass from the cabinet I filled it with PRUNE JUICE!  Not that I wanted to spend my late afternoon enjoying a large, cold glass of prune juice but when nature puts out an SOS for help you had better listen.  

It all started the day of the macadamia nut candy that I was praying and hoping was NOT in fact macadamia nuts but of course with the way my life is running these days you and I knew full well that those freaking little nuts were the one and only food item on this earth that I can not eat.  I guess I dodged a partial bullet when I only took one bite before realizing what they were because I never actually projectile vomited but I was nauseous as hell for the entire night and then spent several hours running for the potty every 15 minutes or so.  By 3 AM I had finally had enough of all that so I found some old Pepto Bismol tablets and popped 2 of them.  The did settle things down enough for me to get a couple of hours sleep but I am paying the price for their wonderful "clotting" action. Thus the wine glass full of prune juice this afternoon.  

DEAR GOD MAKE IT STOP !!!

Can I also bring you up to date on how we spent all day Monday ?  We had a wonderfully fun day sitting in Urgent Care medical and then the ER at our local hospital.  FUN, FUN, FUN . . .    This all goes back 6 years when I first met The Man.  He had a dime size lump on his back right in the middle on his spine. I questioned him as to whether he knew it was there and he assured me he knew it was there and it was "nothing" !  End of discussion.  On a few other occasions over the years I have attempted to ask him about the lump only to be told, "Leave it alone, it's "nothing".  End of discussion.  Well over the past weekend The Man, who we shall henceforth refer to as DUMB ASS, asked me to look at his back because it was sore when he leaned back in the chair.  Low and behold the dime size lump on his back is now larger than a fifty cent piece and part of it is red and nasty looking.  I took a picture of it on my phone and showed it to him to which he said, "What the Hell?  Where did THAT come from?".  I reminded him of the lump that he has had for at LEAST SIX YEARS and his answer to that was,      . . .      wait for it,   . . .  (you know exactly what he said don't you)  . . . The Man said . . . "WHAT LUMP?   I DIDN'T KNOW I HAD A LUMP ON MY BACK".   God stepped in at about this moment and sealed my lips shut and tied my hands behind my back because without Diving Intervention I would have slapped the living shit out of Dumb Ass.  The idiot actually did not remember that I had ever told or asked him about the small lump.    

And so as the weekend went on and the lump became more tender to the touch I told him he REALLY should get it looked at.  Monday morning he called the VA to talk to the "on call" nurse.  She told him to go to a walk in medical ASAP because it sounded like it was a cyst that was infected.  Into the car, off to the walk in where we waited 3 (THREE) hours to see a nurse practitioner who told us she wouldn't touch it or prescribe anything because it was on his spine.  GO TO THE ER . . . so back in the car and off to spend the next 4 (FOUR) hours in the ER where the very nice doctor gave The Man a prescription for an antibiotic and told him to get his ass to a surgeon who will probably have to remove the cyst.  They even gave Dumb Ass the name of a surgeon but he has chosen to wait 2 (TWO)  weeks when he has an appointment to see his GP at the VA.   

And so THAT is why I am drinking prune juice out of a wine glass which I will now go fill with either wine, alcoholic egg nog or straight Jack Daniels.  Or maybe I will just make a cocktail of all three and see where that gets me.    Which ever path I take I know I am in trouble. 

MAYBE ITS NOT OVER

 The Man and I just returned from our, "PLEASE GOD", last trip to Port Saint Lucie.  As we drove home I was thanking God for hearing my prayers and hopefully turning things around for me.  I think the incident at the gas station this morning may have gotten God's attention, FINALLY, but now I'm not so sure. I WILL be sure in one hour so I'll keep you posted. 

Back track to this morning when The Man and I packed up our miserable, aching bodies and left the house for our drive to Cousin LuLu's old house in order to clean out the last remaining crap.  The Man said he needed gas because yesterday he had tried to stop at a gas station to fill the tank but the pump kept telling him to go inside to the cashier.  Normally I pump the gas because The Man is tied to an oxygen hose all the time and it is difficult to get out, switch the oxygen hose from the front of the car to the back. Yesterday he went out to get his hair cut, being the smart man that he is he knew better than to ask me to take a pair of scissors in my hand to trim his hair.  When he came out of the barber he stopped at a local gas station and attempted to use his debit card.  It didn't work so he finally gave up and came home rather than having to unload oxygen to walk into the gas station store to see the cashier.  Today we pulled in to the same station, I got out and tried to use his card and got the same message to see the cashier.  I took the card in and after several tries they told me the card was declined.  It figures, just one more thing to go wrong.  I went back to the car, got out my credit card and proceeded to get the pump working to the point of telling me to, "remove the handle and choose the grade of gas I wanted".  I have done this a thousand times before but because my thumb, (the one I slammed in the car door on Friday), is now the size of a watermelon, I had difficulty grabbing the nozzle. When I did manage to get a hold of the slippery little sucker I turned with the nozzle in my hand in order to insert it into the cars tank when it suddenly started spraying gas on the side of the car and down my arm and leg. There was much cursing and swearing and yelling at God that I had had ENOUGH !!!  When I finally filled the tank I returned to the passenger side of the car, opened the door and asked The Man to PLEASE throw a lit match at me with the hope of going up in a blazing ball of flame.  I seriously wanted to die. 

I guess this was the point that God realized I was quite at the end of my rope and he better step in or I would be jumping off the Juno Beach pier.  We had a lovely ride north, got some coffee and a sandwich, got through the security gate at LuLu's old community, arrived at her house and got in to start the last gathering.  The neighbor next door came over and helped us load the last of the boxes into The Man's car and within an hour we were on our way back home.  We planned a stop to see my cousin and to drop off the stuff we had collected but when we got to the residence my cousin was not there.  I was told she had been talked into joining other residents on a trip to a wonderful restaurant for lunch and would be gone several hours.   HALLELUJAH   LORD !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!   I am soooooooooo happy LuLu is joining in with her neighbors and hopefully settling in to a wonderful new life.

The Man and I made a quick get-a-way and arrived home tired and happy.  BUT . . . it couldn't possibly end on that happy note could it ?  Nooooooooo, there is just one more hurdle to overcome and with any luck I will dodge this last bullet.   As a Christmas gift we were sent some wonderful chocolates from my favorite chocolate shop in Michigan.  A lovely gift from The Man's brother and wife.  There were six large "turtles" in the box.  Chocolate covered Carmel and nuts which both The Man and I LOVE !!!  We ate a couple of them when they first arrived on Friday so they were sitting on the counter top when we got home today.  I changed into my comfy clothes, stopped in the kitchen to grab a "turtle" and headed out onto the lanai to write this blog.  As I bit into the candy I looked at the type of nut that was in this particular one and the realization that this could very well be a Macadamia nut turtle now has me waiting to see it I am going to be spending the remainder of the day throwing up.  I get violently sick when I eat Macadamia nuts and am usually very carful to make sure there are never any of these evil little nuts in things that I eat but I never even gave it a thought that one of these candies could have them in it.  So fat so good but I still have about a half hour until I know I'm in the clear.

Just when I thought we had made it out of Hell here is one last zinger to let me know life isn't perfect and I better watch my butt every second of every day.  And even then you are never sure you are good to go. 

DUMBEST PLATITUDE EVER !!!!!!!

 If one more person tells me, "You HAVE to take care of yourself", I am going to punch them in the face !!

This stupid remark is always said with the very best intentions.   I know that because I have been guilty of telling many people the very same thing.  "You are no good to anyone if you don't take care of YOURSELF!"   makes total and complete sense except for the fact that when you are in the midst of chaos and your life is sucking to the tenth degree you REALLY do NOT want some well meaning person saying you need to take care of yourself.   

I would love to "take care of myself" but right now that is just not an option.  Things need to be done and since no one else is stepping up to do them you know who gets to be number one.  A very dubious distinction at best.  

It has been Hell for the past month.  The devil knew exactly what buttons to push and what my very own private hell would be and then he maneuvered me into the worst possible place at the worst possible time. Thankfully I do have God at my back who has been the ONLY way I have kept from driving off a bridge.

My Hell has revolved around my "darling" Cousin Lucille.  I may have written about the large leak she had in her house this past August and the awful mess she was left with.  Insurance company paid for the clean up but the repairs and remodeling of the guest bath, guest room and living room were left for Lucille to manage.  The insurance company gave her a check for what they thought the work and replacement carpet and bathroom vanity would cost but dear cousin Lu put the check in the bank and left the mess for another day.  She had been living in 3 rooms of her house while the other rooms were left with no flooring and the furniture pushed into the middle of the rooms.  It was DISGUSTING because the dog thought this was it's on personal poop park so it just squatted where ever, when ever it chose.  But of course Cousin Lu did not see any of this because she did not go into those rooms.  

In Lucille's defense I must tell you she is 91 years old and the dog is 14 so between the two of them we really can't expect much.

The woman has 2 step children who call her but DO NOTHING.  So it is up to me to make it all right. Could I just say, "NOPE, NOT MY PROBLEM" ?  Sure, but you know I can't do that.  My parents taught me too well to take care of those around me and because I have no siblings my "family" consists of 5 cousins, of which Lucille is the oldest and the one living nearest to me. Ever since her husband died 14 year ago she has turned to me EVERY time there is a problem.  That is the only time I hear from her. 

Bottom line, I searched, visited and set up appointments at different "Senior Residences" near me in order to move the princess out of her house and into someplace that could monitor her.  I attempted to do this with her 2 years ago but she "WASN'T READY YET!" My drive back and forth to Port St. Lucie takes an hour each way and was becoming a weekly chore thus the decision on both her and my part to move her to Jupiter which is only 15 minutes away, (if I don't get caught by the draw bridge).  

The big move happened this past Tuesday. I was up at 5 AM to get up to her to pack up the last of her crap before the movers arrived.  And so begins the REAL nightmare.

For the past year or more Lucille has had an aide coming into her home every day for 3 or more hours. Once the decision was made to move from the house I had the aide packing up Lucilles stuff.  I was up there several times working with the aide, explaining how I wanted the boxes placed so we would know what was going and what was staying.  

Moving day was CHAOS !!!!  Lucille invited neighbors over to say good bye.  She had her financial advisor come over to say good-bye, AND she had her aide come in who kept moving boxes around.  Lucille kept walking around picking up things saying, "Oh, I want to take this" . . . (I had been with her on 3 separate days prior to moving where we went through cabinets and closets making decisions about what to pack or leave, all to no avail come moving day.). When I finally got her out of the house and into my car we drove down to her new residence where we met the moving people. I handed Lucille over to the amazing staff at the residence while I directed the movers where to place her furniture.  We set it all up, made her bed and brought her up to her new home.  She had visited the residence previously and loved it . . . Of COURSE she loved it . . .  EVERY day from 4-6 the lounge is open with a fully stocked bar and a very personable bar tender. Drinks are half price, entertainment is provided and they have olives to put in her martini.   

I understand it is a trauma for the old girl. BUT she is making it miserable for me.   I was with her all day Tuesday from 5 AM when I got up to drive up to Port St. Lucie till 8 PM when she finally settled down in her new home.  Wednesday I was with her from 9 AM to 6:30 PM unpacking, putting things away, getting the cable guy to set up her TV and phone.  It was at that point I realized we were missing a BUNCH of things from her house.  Boxes with her old phone in them, Waterford crystal, kitchen plates, the dog's bed and toys . . . the list goes on.  I have NO idea where these things are or how they got left behind.  OH Wait . . .  I do know how they got left behind . . .  with all the freaking people coming and going and in the way on moving day at her house it's a wonder we remembered to bring Lucille.  I was running between the movers, dodging visitors, stepping over the damn dog and packing up all the last minute shit that Lu decided she needed.  She and the aide had packed NOTHING from her bathroom or her bedroom closet.  God bless the movers, I just told them to throw EVERYTHING into boxes and we'd sort it out later.  That crap got there, other stuff did not.

And so now I have to drive back up to her old home to try to find all the missing boxes.   Sounds easy enough EXCEPT for the fact that Lucille is selling the house to her long time friend and next door neighbors daughter. Because the daughter and spouse are now living with the mother next door to Lucilles house Lucille saw fit to give them the keys to the house so they could come in and start working on the place.  Only one problem . . . the buyers apparently went into the house the same day we left it and started EMPTYING it out . . .  I TOLD them I was coming back on the weekend to go through the things that were left because I KNEW we were bound to have forgotten something.  Well, the vultures went in and started throwing out stuff . . .  I called them on Wednesday to say I'd be up on Sunday to look for all the missing boxes and I was met with dead silence . . .  "Oh, we cleared out a bunch of stuff" . . . 

Yes,  I am living in Hell.  Don't know what I will find tomorrow but I do know I better not bring a gun with me because blood will be spilled.  

Speaking of spilling blood . . .  the absolute complete topper to this miserable week was last night as I returned from a quick 2 hour visit to Lucille, (after spending 4 hours at the car dealer with The Man to have his "new" car fixed), I pulled into my parking spot, gathered my stuff, climbed out of my car and  SLAMMED my thumb in my car door.  I didn't know it was possible to slam your own finger in your car door but it is now a proven fact that it is quite possible.  Once I stopped crying I walked up to my house and BEGGED God for some help here.  I'm on my final "straw".

So when The Man and my loving daughter told me today to "TAKE CARE OF MYSELF" I had to choke back the plethora of curses because I know they love me and really are concerned about the toll this is taking on me but I REALLY DO NOT want to hear that platitude EVER again unless you are handing me a one way ticket for a cruise to an uninhabited island in the Caribbean.  

HELLOOOOOOOOOOO AGAIN

So sorry I have gone missing but when you loose your mind things have a tendency to fall by the way side.  

Quick up-date.  I have been living in my own personal hell now for about a month.  I find NOTHING amusing or entertaining or calming these days.  I do not sleep and I just want to disappear from the face of the earth. All of this thanks fo my cousin.  Quick version. . . cousin is OLD, had to move out of her house and into a "residence" where she will be safer.  Guess who got the job . . . 

I can't say any more because my blood pressure is out of control and I now have an ulcer. 

MERRY FREAKING CHRISTMAS !

But I will leave all that behind and tell you that I had the most wonderful Thanksgiving week ever.  I had all my kids and grandkids together for a day and it was AMAZING !!!  Thank you God for that gift!  When did my grandkids get so grown up and funny and great to be with all together?   

I hope you all are as blessed as I am and that you can and will remember all the good things in your lives when the going gets rough.  Stay well and hopefully I will be back some time after the holidays. 

PIZZA OR PROZAC

 This morning I was a half a gulp away from downing a whole bottle of Prozac, if I had had any. (Luckily I did not.). I was walking the thin line of sanity when The Man said three magic words that saved the day and his and my life.  What he said was, "PIZZA FOR DINNER?"  

Back up to August of this year . . .  I was in Michigan enjoying the most wonderful, relaxing summer of my life.  No worries, no cares, no Cousin Lu.  Just The Man and myself doing what ever we wanted with the occasional doctor appointment thrown in just to keep us on our toes.  In the midst of this idyllic halcyon summer I get a phone call from my cousin in Florida.  I've written about her before, she is 91, (God Love Her), and the bane of my existence.  I have the dubious distinction of being her only relative living in the state of Florida so she relies on me when ever there is a problem.  We have managed to co exist for many years without me killing her but she does "push the envelope" every chance she gets.  Thankfully or not we live an hour apart.  This is good because it keeps her from expecting me to be at her beck and call on a daily basis and it is bad because when she does need me I have to travel an hour up and back to see her.  (Luckily I love to drive.)

So when I got the phone call up in Michigan from Cousin Lu in Florida I knew there was a problem.  She was beside herself because she had a leak in her house and the place was a mess.  To quote her, "I NEED YOU HERE !  WHEN ARE YOU COMING HOME???? "   I explained that I was NOT coming home any time soon so she would have to manage this crisis on her own.  (For those of you who are thinking I am cold and callused let me explain that I can not just up and leave The Man on his own. With his COPD he needs someone around all the time in case he has breathing issues. That and the fact that I have been telling Cousin Lu for 2 years she needs to sell her house and move into someplace where she will be safer than living in a big house on her own.) But Cousin Lu "wasn't ready yet" so she stayed in her home bringing in a constant stream of "aides" who quickly learn just what a demanding person she is and then move on.  Cousin Lu has 2 step children and 2 grown step grand children who never "step" up to do anything for her.  She thinks they are wonderful because they call her every once in a while and send her flowers on her birthday.  The thought to call one of them in a crisis never enters Lu's mind.  

Between neighbors and cousin Lu's most current aide the leak was fixed, a new plumbing system was installed and the water damage was taken care of.  What was not done was repair work on her walls and floors where pipes were accessed and carpets were torn up.   Fast forward to my return to Florida in October and a trip to see Cousin Lu shortly after my return.  Her home is torn apart and is a mess.  She is confused and exhausted and in need of someone to step in and take charge.   Hello ME !!  Trying to get straight the chain of events and repair people was like pulling teeth from a chicken.  It just wasn't happening.  She had a nephew from NJ who came to visit and God Bless him and his wife they were able to make some sense of the mess of events and who did what. The end product of all this chaos is that Cousin Lu now says she is ready to sell her house and move into an adult community where there will be someone around 24/7 to help her.  

I visited my cousin last Sunday and we had a long discussion about this idea of moving her someplace SAFE.  Forget the house, just get her settled and safe and then we can work on the rest.  She was in agreement with all this and even wants to move someplace close to me.  (Again a double edged sword, close is easier for me travel wise but it will also make her want me to be with her more and more.) with her in agreement I have spent the bulk of this week researching independent living facilities, making appointments and visiting the places.  It is exhausting but kind of fun looking at these places. It will make it easier for my kids when they want to put me away somewhere.  Probably sooner than later. 

This morning, while I was juggling Lucille phone calls and appointments at the various adult homes The Man asked what I was thinking for dinner tonight.      WRONG THING TO SAY . . .  which he apparently realized as soon as the words left his mouth.  So the next thing he said was those 3 wonderful words,    "Pizza for Dinner ?"   I went from Mr. Vesuvius erupting to calm, cool and collected.   What a guy !!!

This afternoon I visited a wonderful place that I think Cousin Lu would love.  It is p scale and lovely situated right on the intercostal waterway and within her price range.  All the ladies that I met were dressed up and looking like my cousin, hair and nails done, looking good.    I loved it and I really do think she will also.  All we have to do is get her there to look at it.  When I called her tonight she told me she can't go see it this weekend, she is too busy. She has to get her hair done.   So if and when I do get her down here to see the place I only hope they will still have a room available because I am NOT doing this for another 12 weeks until The Princess decides she can make it.

RAPID RESPONDERS

It's always good to know that when you have a problem or are in trouble there is someone close by who will quickly be there when you call.  I can personally attest to the rapid response of our local EMT's after my visit to the ER last Thanksgiving when I had double pneumonia.  The EMT team was at my door in less than 10 minutes after The Man called 911.  These young men and women were great !   I also know that when my cousin fell in her driveway this past weekend and her little dog barked its head off until a neighbor thought to come out and see what the dog was barking at, the rapid response of her local fire station was excellent.  I am very happy to know that I live somewhere that provides me with such good emergency services. 

But it seems that I and my fellow south Floridians are not the only ones who require Rapid Responders. In fact there was an article in todays Palm Beach Post that addressed this other group of residents of our lovely sunshine state. . . The Python snakes.  

If you have been keeping up on South Florida news over the past couple of years you probably have seen many stories about the invasive species of Python snakes that are taking over the Everglades.  Some where in the not so distant past some well meaning idiot bought themselves a snake for a pet and when it got too large to keep in an aquarium or their bathtub, (because you know there is someone out there with a snake living in their bathtub),  the well meaning idiot thought, "I'll just take Waldo, (or what ever the snakes name was), out into the Everglades and let it go.  With a fond farewell and a hearty "live long and prosper" the snake slithered off into the wet, marshy swamp.  

Now had the idiot who bought the snake given any thought to the fact that pythons can live an average of 30 years and grow to a length of 30 feet and are NOT native to Florida, perhaps the idiot would have found a better way to rid himself of the very foolish choice of pets. But then again, being an idiot, (because who else would want to spend money on a snake for a pet), he or she never gave a second thought to what they were doing.   

Bottom line is that Florida Everglades is becoming over run with python snakes.  Because they are not native to the area they have no natural enemies who can keep their population under control. Instead they slither through the swamp eating everything and anything they find which is pretty much any other living creature.  Even the alligators are in jeopardy. Poor little alligators!   The state has set up python hunting seasons and python round ups where monetary rewards are given to the person who brings in the largest snake dead or alive, (preferably dead). But what happens when it is "off season" for pythons and one is spotted sunning itself on a small patch of dry(ish) ground?  What do you do?  Who do you call?  (No, Not Ghostbusters!) . . . why you call the RAPID RESPONDER UNIT !

Yes, Florida has a rapid responder unit just for the purpose of catching unsuspecting pythons.  THAT is what the article in todays paper was all about.  It seems that a renegade python has found its way north of the Everglades and is taking up residence in a nature preserve in North Palm Beach County. The snake was spotted over the weekend so a call went out immediately to the rapid response unit whose job it is to find the elusive creature, capture it and do God knows what with it. (Maybe our government can put it on a bus and ship it to Kansas or where ever with all the other illegal immigrants.) Only problem is that the rapid response unit can only get into the swamp by helicopter or airboat and by the time they were able to deploy either of those means of transportation the sneaky little snake had slithered away.  To quote the paper, "It was several hours until the team was able to get to where the snake was spotted".  

I think the team needs to find a different name because RAPID response unit just doesn't seem to apply here.  

 I wonder if the python was having a heart attack would the rapid responders get to it any faster?

KIDS MOVIES ARE NOT JUST FOR KIDS

 I LOVE watching kid's movies.  Movies like "Despicable Me",  "Horton Hears a Who", "Soul" and of course the whole series of "Toy Story".   These are great movies that really are not fully appreciated by anyone under the age of 40.  The humor and comedic antics of the characters are missed by the young viewer while someone like me is rolling on the floor laughing.

Yesterday afternoon I drove down to the Ft. Lauderdale area to spend the late afternoon and evening with my 3 grandkids who live down that way.  My son Kent was working his second job as a DJ, (teaching just doesn't pay the bills when you are divorced and have 3 kids), so he had asked me to come down to spend the evening with the three hyenas. (Not my name for them . . . their parents fondly started calling them that when the oldest was about 6 and the twins were 3.)

Anyway . . . I left here around 3 in the afternoon and had a blast with them.  I gave them the choice of what to do and where to go and the unanimous decision was "Sky Zone", a local, indoor trampoline park.  Because it was late afternoon on a Saturday the place was mobbed but that did not deter these 3 kids from jumping their brains out for two full hours.  The oldest took off to play "trampoline dodge ball" which any 11 year old boy would love while the 7 year old twins bounced themselves silly in various areas of the place.  We had semi cold pizza for dinner washed down with blue icy drinks. How they didn't throw up any of that while bouncing is beyond me but we made it back home by 8 PM sweaty and tired.  (I was tired from following the twins around as per their requests. "Come watch ME grandma!")

By the time we got back to their home it was time for showers and some R&R before bed. (But not before a couple of Halloween Oreo cookies that I had brought for dessert.)  Once out of the shower Grey decided she would brush her teeth and lie in bed watching her iPad for a few minutes before falling asleep. (What a smart girl!)  The boys decided they wanted to watch a little bit of TV. Because Wynn had the clicker in his hand he got to choose what to watch.  (Wonder of wonders that his older brother agreed to that!) Wynn decided to watch the Dr. Seuss movie, "The Lorax".  I had never seen this particular film so I was all in !

The movie is HYSTERICAL !!!!!  There I was sitting between the 2 boys laughing my fool head off while they never cracked a smile.  They had seen the movie several times before, or as Smith put it, "Wynn, you ALWAYS want to watch that!". I guess they must enjoy the movie to watch it over and over but I found it hilarious !  We only got to watch about a half hour before it was time for Wynn to go to bed.  After tucking him in I returned to the living room expecting my OLD grandson to want to watch something different but he asked if I wanted to watch more of the movie if we kept the sound low.  Naturally I agreed and then the genius grandson put on the captions feature so I could actually read the dialogue.  That was even better because I didn't miss a word.  

KID movies always have two opposing main characters . . . the good and the bad.  They are usually fun to watch but it's the "side kicks" that are the best!  This movie had a group of small, fuzzy bears with the addition, (as always) of one very fat, large bear who was the comic.  Added to that there were the singing gold fish.  Who comes up with this stuff ????   If you watch very carefully there is also some animal in the background with the best facial expressions ever. In this case it was a donkey who reminded me very much of the Eddie Murphy character donkey in the movie "Shrek". 

I really wanted to continue watching after Smith went to bed but I knew my laughing might wake up the kids.  I now have another KID movie to add to my list of "must watch" shows when The Man is watching Football or Hockey.   Lucky Me !!!!

FOCUS FACTOR

If you watch any television at all these days I am sure you have seen the commercials for pills that are supposed to enhance your memory. Of course if you don't write down the names of these medications while you are watching the commercial you can't order them because, if you're anything like me, you can't remember their name three seconds after the commercial has ended.   

I am really starting to think I may need some pharmaceutical to help me with my memory.  I will think of something I want to do and in less than two seconds it is gone from my head never to be found again.  I try the old trick of returning to the last place that I was with hopes that something there will jog my memory but I often can't remember where the last place I was is.  I could spend an entire day wandering from room to room just trying to remember why I was there.  

This is seriously becoming a problem.  Just today I thought of something I needed to do on my computer. I  went into the bedroom to get my lap top only to realize I had no idea where my lap top was.  For the next half hour I searched the house until I found the computer on top of the washing machine. (How it got THERE is a mystery to me.) Once I found the computer I needed my glasses but those have been missing for the past 3 days.  I had them on Monday when I went to pick up dinner for The Man and myself. (It's a good thing my new car has a GPS in it because I forgot to bring my phone with me and couldn't find the new BBQ place.) I remember wiping off my glasses while waiting for my order at the walk up window because they had fogged up when I got out of the car.  That's the last time I remember having them.  I would assume I put them back on my face to drive home but they are NO WHERE to be found.  (My smart ass daughter suggested I go look in a mirror because they could be on top of my head or on my face. She was joking of course but deep down we both knew it was a possibility.)

Today I drove down to a store to buy a loaf of Italian bread. I hadn't been to this particular grocery in over a year so wasn't familiar with the layout of the parking lot.  I found a parking spot, parked my car and went in to do my shopping.  When I came out I had no idea where I had parked. I knew it was in a "down" row near the end of the lot but wasn't sure exactly where. Because I live in Florida my new white Honda just blended in with all the three thousand other white SUV's in the lot.  (Down here if you don't drive a Bentley or a Maserati chances are you own a white SUV) Twice this week I have walked up to a white SUV thinking it was mine. Fortunately I DO remember my license plate number so I realize my mistake before I am arrested for car theft.  The only way I remember my plate number is because several years ago when I got these plates I made a conscious effort to come up with way to never forget it. Are you ready for this . . .  ?  The first letter is the second letter of my first born child's first name. The next two midgets are the last two numbers of the year that child was born.  (Simple right?). The last three letters on the plate are JGS. In my mind this spells "jugs" of which I have two rather large saggy, baggy ones. (Father time has not been kind to my body.  Those boobs that I prayed for as a teenager are two large annoying globs of fat that get in the way of everything.).  Bottom line to this is it didn't take me too long to find my car.  

My dad used to worry about not remembering things and I would tell him it was because he had all those years worth of memories stuffed in his brain so it just takes a while for him to find the memory he is looking for.  Now that it is ME who can't remember "s--t" I think that explanation is a crock of "s--t". Instead I know I am loosing what little mind I have . 

I think the next time I see one of those stupid commercials for memory loss I will write down the name and look into ordering some. Of course that will only happen if I remember to get a pencil and paper before I sit down. 

SLICE AND DICE

 Any other of my senior friends out there dealing with the bi-monthly visits to the dermatologist ?  

Just like triple chins, wrinkles the size of the Grand Canyon, body parts that have given in to the pull of gravity and sag well below where they belong and aches and pains in joints you never knew I had one of the other joys of growing older is the constant stream of visits to the doctor.  I visit doctors almost as often as I pee.  And that is A LOT !!!   (Maybe I need to get a job or some more friends to keep myself busy?) 

Having grown up in the "pre-sun screen" era I spent my entire childhood outside

.  It was the age when mother's did not want their kids in the house under their feet.  And if for some strange reason my mom didn't push me out the door I was in for a day of "helping" her inside.  I learned early on to get my butt outside ASAP or a dust cloth or vacuum was thrust into my idle hands.  (I didn't get an allowance for every little "chore" I did.  I just got to live another day without my mom yelling at me.)  

As a result of all this out door time with no UV protection, (Did you ever hear of UV when you were a kid?) I always had a nice tan going on.  Then when I was a teenager and realized how "good" having a tan looked I would spend days at the beach cooking myself to a golden brown.  Only problem was I NEVER got tan, I just burned, peeled and burned again.  But I looked GOOD !!  Blue eyes, blonde hair and a sun burn was the key to looking "cool".  Or so I thought.

Sixty years later I am paying the price for all that "looking good".  My bank account is directly linked to my dermatologist's Mercedes dealer.  (I think he would be driving a Honda if it wasn't for me.) Every 3 months I have a standing appointment to get the "once over" from good old Doctor Fayne.  He is an interesting character, as most dermatologists are. 

(Over the years I have found that different types of doctors have very different personalities. Surgeons are usually very socially awkward and have little to no bedside manner.  GP's are chatty and personable and dermatologists are just plain weird. I guess I'd be strange too if I spent my days looking at warts.  We won't even get into the personalities of proctologists. They're all just a "pain in the ass".)

I have been seeing Doctor Fayne for over 20 years now and he has burned and sliced many a pre-cancerous spot off my body.  But now it seems I am entering the true "senior' years of my life where the little spots are morphing into larger more complicated entities.  I am beginning to realize that my body is ALIVE and like some alien creature from outer space, it is growing spores that are trying to erupt into living things that will devour my body if I'm not paying attention.  When I die my children will no longer be my soul beneficiary's. In fact they will be lucky to get twenty cents each because the bulk of their inheritance is going to my dermatologist. 

Yesterday was a banner day for good old Doc F AND his partner Doctor Cohen.  I had never met Dr, Cohen but yesterday I had the "pleasure" of getting sliced and diced by this nice man.  

Backing up to this past April . .  . before we left for Michigan I saw Dr. Fayne who discovered a small nasty thing growing under my chin.  He cut it off, slapped a band aid on it and sent me on my way while he sent the "thing" off to the lab.  The "thing" was cancerous, (nothing big, just the regular every day skin cancer.) so Dr. F wanted me to see a dermatologist in MI to follow up and make sure he had cut enough off.  MI doctor needed to slice and dice a little more and then wanted me to return in a couple of months to check it out.  I returned to the Michigan doc just before returning to Florida and he was pleased with how my chin looked.  BUT . . .    for what ever reason he decided to check my neck and back where he found something he didn't like.  Michigan doctor, Johnathan, cut something off my back and sent me back to Florida while the thing was sent to the MI lab.  As The Man and I were driving back to Florida I received a phone call from Johnathan's office saying the thing was cancerous so I should see my Florida dermatologist when I got home.  (The joys of having 2 homes and 2 sets of doctors.)

Yesterday was my appointment to see Doctor Fayne.  He checked the thing on my back, read the report from Michigan and immediately called in his associate who does all the "bigger" slicing and dicing.  They were going to set me up with a half hour appointment when Dr. Cohen said he just had a cancelation and could do the procedure right then. I was all for that so I didn't have to return another day. Off we went to a different part of the building where I got to take a nap on my tummy while I got carved up like your Thanksgiving turkey.

I now have two layers of stitches in my back with a honking big "pressure bandage" over them.  The bandage comes off this afternoon, the stitches come out in 12 days and Doctor Cohen AND Doctor Fayne get to book a three week vacation in Aruba for them and their families thanks to the spot on my back. 

WHO'S IN CHARGE ????

 Apparently I am not in charge of anything these days.  I like to THINK I am in charge of everything but God has a way of slapping me up side my head to remind me I am just a blip on His radar and I need to stop thinking about myself. 

I tend to do that a lot ! Think about myself . . . like I am the one and only person on this planet who has an ounce of intelligence so everyone needs to stop and listen to me. God laughs at me all the time.  And He shakes his head and then He slaps me !  

If you aren't familiar with "God Slaps" let me enlighten you.  You wake up in the morning thinking the world revolves around you.  You don't feel well, your body aches, you are stressed out, you don't think you can go on with your life as it is.  Changes need to be made . . . You need to take a stand and stop letting everyone around you dictate your life.  You're sick of being a care giver for others.  When was the last time anyone took care of you?  BOOOOO  HOOOOOO HOOOOOOO !!     You get up and decide you are probably going to die of a heart attack in the very near future and this brings you a great sense of relief.  

And then comes the SLAP !!!!!   God whispers in your ear that you are not the one and only person on His Earth that has "problems".  In fact, in the general scheme of things, the stuff that is bothering you is pretty insignificant and petty. And if you really did drop dead it really would not change the face of the earth. People might miss you BUT your passing would not change one single thing.  So basically, "Get Over Yourself !"    SLAP !!!!    

And then the phone rings . . .  In the past 24 hours I have received 2 phone calls from friends telling me of things that have happened to them. They lost someone they love.  They just received a diagnosis of cancer.  

And I am upset over a wet  car and not feeling well.   SLAP !!!  SLAP !!! 

I hear God saying, "Hey Catherine, did you get my message yet?"  

Ever since our return from Michigan I have been in a foul mood.  Before we left up there I asked God to just get me back to Florida and my family and my doctors and I would be good.  God listened, as He always does, and got me back here in one piece.  Since my return I have found endless things to annoy and upset me.  The car, the garden, the house, The Man. The list is endless. And with each passing day I have allowed theses annoyances to overwhelm me and consume my mind and spirit.  I am convinced I am dying from heart failure.  My liver and kidneys are failing and my mind is oozing it's way toward dementia.  (None of these are true but this is just how my mind works.).  I am afraid of all of the above and so each day I obsess over every little ache and pain.  (God forbid I would eat healthier or exercise to do something to avoid all of the above. I'd rather just obsess.) 

After speaking to my friend Theresa last night and hearing all that is happening in her life I realized I had NOTHING to be stressed about.  Then when I woke up this morning I had an epiphany that if I did drop dead from a heart attack that might actually be a good thing.  I wouldn't have to take care of anyone else anymore and all the little things that are annoying me would no longer be of my concern.  In simple terms I could and should   " LET GO.  LET GOD " .  

I was doing pretty well with this game plan until I needed to get my butt out the door to do some running around with The Man.  It was at that point that I once again slid back into "poor me" mode.  Boo Hoo !  "I have to do everything, I have to remember everything, I have to . . . "  blah blah blah . . .    The Man and I ran around getting all the little crap done and I was just sinking lower and lower in the swamp of my mind when the phone rang.  It was one of The Man's brother's saying his cancer was back and he didn't know if he was going to fight it any more.  SLAP !!!  SLAP !!!! SLAP !!!!!   

God's voice in my ear once again reminding me that a little ache or pain is NOTHING !!! A leak and some mold in my car is NOTHING !!  The blessing of having grand kids that want me to babysit is EVERYTHING  !!!!  I have a kind and caring man in my life who keeps me company and provides me with much joy and all I can do is complain about him when I should be thanking God every day to be blessed with someone like him 

How long will all this wisdom stay with me ??   Probably not past dinner tonight but for the time being I guess I am pretty blessed to not be "In Charge".  If I can just remember to hand all my stupid worries up to God and let Him be in charge life can be pretty awesome.  

RED BOOK

 I used to have a "Little Red Book"  which was my version of "The Little Black Book" that is the keeper of secret names and numbers.   I bought a RED book so I would be able to find it easier. (I tend to put things down in obscure places so I figured red would be easier to spot than black.) I have had my little red book for many many years now and it has served me well. It contains all my "passwords" that I have accumulated over the years. These passwords change on a regular basis because I will be somewhere and need to log into some account but can't remember the password. When that happens my only resort is to change my password, which I will then write on a scrap of paper with hopes of adding the new password to the LRB when I get home.  Nine times out of ten I loose the scrap of paper and have to change the damn word again when I get home.  I usually just white-out the old words and write over them to save space. 

It's a good thing I have done this because the size of my "little" red book has been changing for the past several years.  To be precise, my LRB has been expanding for the past 5 years,  7 months,  one week and however many days.  That is the exact amount of time that The Man has been in my life. 

(This morning I woke up at 3 AM and could NOT get back to sleep no matter what I tried.  I finally gave up to go sit in the living room playing solitaire on my i Pad until I could get my brain to shut the hell up. Or so I though.  I crawled back into bed around 5 AM only to be hit with a panic attack a half hour later.  I was just drifting toward sleep when it happened so I sat up trying to calm myself back down or hoping for a quick and painless death.  Neither happened so I got up again and headed for control central where I could attend my trusty therapy session called "blogging". ) 

Back to the "Little Red Book" . . .  And the reason for my most recent panic attack.  THE MAN . . .   Need I say any more ?  Ever since this man had come into my life I have been increasingly weighed down both mentally and physically.  I have allowed The Man to dump his shit on me so it is no ones fault but my own. I'm such a freaking goodie two shoes that I want to "help" everyone in my life.  It's who I am, I can't seem to change so I can't blame The Man for being who he is . . . a typical man . . .

When ever we leave the house The Man hands me his phone, glasses and any paperwork that may be required for where ever we are going.  (Usually the only time we leave the house is to go to doctor appointments so I get to be keeper of the medical records that we always carry with us._ If I'm really lucky I will also get to carry the extension cords, chargers and batteries, which weigh a ton, for his portable concentrator.)  I carry a back pack for just such occasions.  I feel like a sherpa heading into the Himalayan Mountains.  Except my pack is heavier. 

But these aren't the only things I carry. Sometime way back at the beginning of this relationship I had the bright idea that I should add The Man's passwords to my LRB.  It came about innocently enough . . .  or did it ???  I look back now and see the masterful maneuvering of the male mind.  First it was that The Man couldn't see the screen of his tablet as well as he could see the screen of MY computer so naturally I started logging into his accounts for him on my computer. Because this became a regular occurrence I started putting his passwords into my little red book. (The man has his version of the LRB but because it is a random mess of loose papers most of the time he can't find it.)  

As the years have progressed my LRB has doubled in size. No problem . . . until The Man needs something on the computer and I don't have the password.  THAT is what happened this weekend.  

The Man LOVES hockey especially the Detroit Red Wings.  When he comes to Florida for the winter WE research the best way to get the majority of hockey games streamed to my TV.  Every year this changes . . . In the beginning we used to Center Ice.  Then it was the NHL Network. Last year he had to subscribe to NHLTV.  Each and every one of these requires an account which needs a password.  You Know Who gets to keep track of all the freaking passwords.  The "H" page in my LRB is now twelve inches thick because of all the layers of white out for the various hockey subscriptions.  

NONE of these annual searches for hockey is easy. We start with the previous year's account for hockey streaming.  Inevitably that will no longer be the best way to watch ALL the Red Wing games so now the search is on.  You know The Man is NOT doing the searching . . .  NO . . . HE is sitting right next to me or standing right behind me as I get to google all the information. Because he is not really computer literate he will stand in back of me saying things like. "Click on THAT !" while I have no idea what "That" is. If I scroll too fast he gets excited and starts yelling, "BACK, BACK BACK".  He doesn't understand that you can't just click on anything so he will often try telling me to click on something that is not a link and then gets excited when it goes no where.  

This season 's search began a week ago.  As soon as I started the search I realized, (because I READ on the site), NHLTV had joined with ESPN so you would need to subscribe to ESPN+.  As soon as I saw this I mentioned it to The Man but he knew better so we did NOT go directly to "GO" and collect our $200. Instead we spent days searching off and on for the stupid hockey season information.  Naturally I just shut the hell up and let him call his son in Alaska so the two of them could figure it out.  

The annoying thing is that I will be doing something when it will strike The Man that NOW is the time to renew our hockey search.  I will tell him I'm in the middle of something so he will then follow me around for how ever long it takes for me to want to kill him. At that point I know it is a lost cause so I will get to the computer and the search will continue.  

Yesterday was one of those days.  I was totally stressed out about the lake I had in my car after the rain storm the previous night.  I was up early researching new cars when you know who showed up and suggested we check into the hockey situation. At eight o'clock in the morning this is the LAST thing I want to be doing.  After searching for more information WE finally found a phone number for The Man to call and guess what the real live person on the other end of the phone told The Man. ????????     ESPN+ is carrying all the hockey games this season.  You need to subscribe to them.  WE had done just that a week ago when I told The Man that was what he would need to do but he was sure I was wrong.  When we set up the account I asked him for a password but he said he couldn't come up with one, I should pick.  I chose something common to both of us and, because I was putting all the info into the computer, I asked him to WRITE THE PASSWORD DOWN !!!!!!    Guess what we can't find and have been searching for for the past 48 hours? !   It is no where to be found in my LRB because I didn't write it in my LRB.  

And I wonder why I have panic attacks at 4 in the morning. 

B P NUMBERS

 Do NOT tell me what my blood pressure is . . .   it is a Catch 22 at best.  I take my blood pressure because the cardiologist wants me to keep a daily record.  I try to sit quietly, uncross my legs, take deep breaths but the fact that I am taking my blood pressure give me major anxiety so no matter what I do it is going to read high.  

Should I loose 50 pounds to help lower myBP ?  YES !!  Should I change my diet to eliminate red meat and salt and processed foods?   YES !!!!    Should I get my butt out of the house and walk walk walk every day !  ABSOLUTELY !!!!!   But it is so much more entertaining to do none of the above and then have daily panic attacks when my BP reads 193/104 . . .    And besides, now I have a topic for todays blog.

WE are back in Florida and I am finding all sorts of things to stress about.  I told myself I would feel better and my BP would settle down once I was "home" and close to family, friends and familiar doctors.  That didn't work quite as planned.  First off, there was the entire stress filled 4 days of travel which I might have mentioned in my last blog.  Now we are home and the house if filled with all the stuff that I brought back with us.  I had Keri and Finn put EVERYTHING from the car into the guest bedroom so I can shut that door and not have to look at the mess in there. But I know what's in there and it calls to me every day AND night.  "Come clean us up!', "I'm waiting to get put away!", "Helloooooo . . . !"  I hear these calls and I know I can just ignore them for now but I just can't settle down until things are back to "normal". 

Add to the mess in the house, (Did I mention the 2 boxes of apples that are still sitting on the dining room table?) I also have the whole moldy, smelly, rotten car that is mine. My wonderful car that I love is totally destroyed with mold that has eaten the two front seats.  I mean literally EATEN the fabric on the seats.  I didn't know mold could do that but apparently it is one of the perks of having a car filled with toxic spores. I had really hoped that MAYBE I could get another year out of my car and then sell it before next summer but I NEED to get rid of it ASAP !!  Even though it was de-molded it stinks and the back door leaks so it is only a matter of time before it begins to turn green again.  

I was up at 6 AM this morning on my computer filling out information for "CARVANA" .  I have been told by reliable sources that this is a good way to get rid of my mold mobile.  After putting in all the required info it looks like I may actually get a few bucks for the poor thing.  WE shall see.   The reason I was up at 6 AM doing all this research was to avoid EXACTLY what happened at 8:00 AM when The Man found me in front of the computer in mission control. (AKA spare bedroom/ junk room/ pig sty.). The Man stood in the door way asking what I was doing. When I told him I was getting a quote for selling my car he asked how much they offered.  I told him and his response was, "And you're going to take THAT?"  I thought it was an excellent offer ! The car is 9 years old and is a rolling Petri dish.  Carvana is offering me more than half of what I paid for the car 8 years ago.  So when The Man put his two cents into my plan I almost bit off his head, chewed it up and spit it out !!!  It was not one of his smarter moves and it was not one of my  calmer moments.  I just want this car GONE !!!!  I asked him to please stop talking and leave me alone to finish what I was doing so he wandered back into the kitchen to await the explosion or the calm . . .  with me it's always a crap shoot as to which way a day can go.  

I had hoped that all would go smoothly but God is testing me. The title on my car had my old address so I crossed it out and wrote in my present address.  That apparently is a BIG "NO NO" so now I have to wait over a week to get an appointment with the DMV to get a new title. Then maybe I can get rid of the green glob.  

It just seems that since I have returned to Florida EVERYTHING I touch goes to shit. I have destroyed 3 dinners and a breakfast in the past 7 days.  (Did you know you shouldn't cook sweet potatoes in the microwave?  They come out like bricks.) (Did you know that if you over cook sausage patties they turn into hockey pucks?) 

Suffice to say I am a HUGE hot mess and it seems to be getting worse by the day.  I am not taking my blood pressure because that will only add to the stress.  Instead I am eating my weight in chocolate and hoping for a quick and painless death as soon as possible. I know that will not happen because God is SMART and there is no way He wants me anywhere near him.  (Of course with the amount of cursing I have been doing I will probably go straight to Hell.). 

I am finding some humor in all this.  Tonight I wanted to go to 4:00 mass for some quiet time with the Lord but instead a HUGE storm rolled through just as I was getting ready to leave.  I was dressed, hair combed, make-up on when suddenly my phone starts blaring out a WEATHER ALERT !!!!!!  "SEVERE THUNDERSTORMS IN AREA !  GAIL FORCE WINDS WITH POSSIBLE TORNADO'S OR WATER SPOUTS.  LOCAL FLOODING!   OK God, you trying to tell me something ??   I took off my shoes and church clothes, put on my comfy clothes and made a LARGE drink !  Then I burned dinner.  

Now I'm out on the lanai sitting in the dark with my computer in my lap.  The Man is watching hockey. WE spent the past half hour trying to figure out how he can get to watch ALL his Detroit Red Wing games this season. Because he is not computer literate that job gets put on me with him looking over my shoulder the entire time.  I did manage to give the illusion of remaining calm but I am not taking my BP any time soon. 

CRANKY ? ! ? ! ? ! ?

 I just can NOT imagine why last night The Man asked me if I was "Cranky".  We had only been traveling for 4 days from Michigan having numerous minor irritations and one MAJOR irritation on our last night of travel.  

The Man does a masterful job of driving.  He is a good driver, no, he is an EXCELLENT driver and I really do appreciate that. (Remember I was married to Husband for 47 years and there were many, many times that my death by auto accident was just seconds away.)  So I do appreciate that The Man drives all 1,700 miles from The Farm to Florida with a minimum of gasps or screams issuing from my mouth.  

Because The Man does all of the driving I naturally get to do EVERYTHING else.  For those of you who do not spend days traveling in a car with a man with severe COPD let me explain exactly what "everything" entails. 

Starting with our preparation for leaving town I get to do all the manual labor of shutting down. Locking windows, turning off the water heater, putting everything from outside away in the garage, (I did have the boys next door to help with that), emptying the fridge, taking out garbage and most labor intensive of all, PACKING THE CAR.  This is no easy task because the car is sitting outside the back door which is down a set of stairs so each trip gives me lots of exercise.  I started packing the car 2 weeks ago and was doing a pretty good job with the exception of having to literally crawl into the trunk to stuff things as far back as possible. (The Man drives a Chevy Malibu with a nice big trunk but I am used to the "way back" of my little SUV which is a thousand times easier to pack!). So now besides stairs I am also carrying and reaching and pushing and shoving things into a car trunk. Add to that having to carry 2 oxygen concentrators out of the house and lift them into the back seat of the car along with the large HEAVY tank of oxygen.  It is more of a work out than I normally get. 

 Hopefully I have thought of everything The Man and I will need to make our journey south.  (My brain is working at warp speed and I don't sleep for days before we leave.)

Once we are on our way all is well with the world until it comes time to stop for the night.  NOW it is my job to find a hotel. Trying to nail down The Man to an area to begin my search is always an adventure.  Once we get that far I can locate all the options on my phone.  EXCEPT The Man is a member of "Wyndham Rewards" program and he has points.  SO . . .  I need to find a Wyndham property.  We can call Wyndham directly but then we have to also call the hotel to make sure we get a room as close to an exit door as possible because The Man can not walk distances. (Except when he goes to his rehab and is so proud of himself for walking "15 minutes on the treadmill !!!!! ".   That is a wonderful thing but as I have mentioned often both to you and to him . . .  if you can walk 15 minutes on the treadmill you can walk down the hall of a motel. ). Bottom line,  our choosing a motel is stressful at best.  AND The Man likes to keep it as cheap as possible.  (He thinks this is still the 60's and you can get room for $29 a night) Once the motel is booked I now have to navigate The Man to the location.  MORE  STRESS !  When we get to the motel  I have to go in to register and check out the room.  There is ALWAYS some issue there ! It is a MAJOR stress factor for me.  

Our hotels were adequate.  Semi decent and the sheets seem clean.  The Man does not seem to notice the carpet that is about 80 years old or the other twenty things that I could list.  He is tired after driving so we are glad to just crash.  The fact that his feet were sticking to the floor in motel #2 did cause him some concern but not enough to pay more for a better hotel the next night.   

Once in the room I now have the job of bringing in ALL the stuff we will need for the night.  2 overnight bags, (his weighs a ton because it contains nebulizer and medications and other medical stuff.). Sometimes the motel will have a cart that I can use to bring everything in but that's not always the case. After three trips to the car and back I now get the job of finding some place to go to get takeout for dinner.  Heaven forbid we stop at a drive through BEFORE we get to the motel.  NOoooooooo. We have to wait until The Little Prince is settled in his room and then send the idiot woman out on a search for food !!!  

Our first night on the road we were fortunate to have a Cracker Barrel right next to the motel. I called in an order and while we were waiting for it to be ready for pick up I got a call back saying they were out of the turkey that I had wanted.  I chose something else, the girl "threw in" all the turkey "fixings" and a free dessert.  Good deal. Right ?   I ate WAY too much thanks to all the delicious sides they gave me so I couldn't lie down without feeling nauseous and The Man ate something in his order that gave him the runs in the middle of the night.  Not a good start to our journey.

Night two had the sticky floor room and soup for dinner from the gas station across the road.

Then there was our last night on the road . . .  That day we had gotten to Atlanta, GA where we stopped for an hour to visit my oldest child, Kyle and his wife Bridget. WONDERFUL !! That was the high point of the trip for me !!  We left their house at 2 in the afternoon and hit bumper to bumper traffic for the next 2 hours.  It was at this point that The Man started to loose his focus so there was a LOT of gasping and dash-board clutching on my part.  We finally made it to Tifton, GA where we would stay for the night.  Kyle called just before we reached Tifton and offered us his points to stay at a Marriott in Tipton but we had already made a reservation at the Wyndham Comfort Inn and Suites. (sounds nice doesn't it?). Got to the motel and it was nice. We had requested a room close to an exit and we got a room half way down the hall.  The girl at the desk was very pleasant BUT had nothing else available on the first floor.  We drove around to the entrance door, I wedged it open and started dragging things into the room.  As soon as I opened the door I was struck by a SMELL.  (I am very aware of smells so I don't panic right away.) I figured we could just open the door and turn on the fan for a while and it would be OK.  I should have known better.  Three trips to the car and back I asked The Man if he noticed the smell.  He said he couldn't smell anything.  It smelled like wet, stale carpet which is exactly what it was. I took off my shoes to get comfortable and stepped into a puddle of God only knows what in the carpet.  It was at this point that I spun around and told The Man to get up we were LEAVING !!!!!!   I went up to the desk and told them what was going on to cancel our reservation, which they gladly did because by then I was a lunatic and they were probably envisioning either a mass shooting or a law suit.  I called Kyle who made us reservations just down the street at a WONDERFUL, CLEAN, NON SMELLY Fairfield Inn.  

Three trips to the car to repack from smelly motel but only one trip, with a cart, to our room that was RIGHT INSIDE the exit at the Fairfield.  We had a good nights sleep which was good because the drive from GA to home was filled with traffic. Once we got home Keri and Finn came over to help us unload the car and all was well with the world.  Until it was time for dinner.  Keri had picked up milk and bread for me because The Man and I planned on Chinese delivery for dinner.  NOT !! Yin Can Cook is closed on Sunday !!!  Of course they are !!  I couldn't stand another night of sandwiches or "fast food" so I dug out a couple of frozen steaks and some home fries that had been in the freezer a bit too long.  But at least it was real food.  By 7:00 I was DONE.  The entire time I was getting settled in to the condo and making dinner and running a load of laundry through The Man was sitting on the couch watching football.  

When The Man came into the bedroom at seven where I was relaxing, feet up trying  and get the swelling in my legs to go down, heating pad on my aching back and tried to turn on the bedroom TV I was about at my breaking point.  The Man didn't have his glasses on so couldn't see what buttons to push on the remote. What ever he did he screwed it up and then wanted me to straighten it all out, which of course I did.  As I handed the clicker back to him he asked, "ARE YOU CRANKY?" 

Just let me say that at that moment The Man did have a small flash of intelligence when, after he asked me if I was "CRANKY" and I glared at him and shouted. "YES !!!!!!!!!!!!  I.  AM.   CRANKY !!!!!!!! ",  he was smart enough NOT to ask me "WHY?".   

If that had been the case you would not be reading my blog today.  Instead you would be reading              The Man's Obituary ! 

WINDING DOWN

 How is it possible that October first is at the end of this week ???   Didn't we just arrive at "The Farm" to spend our summer here ?   Where did the past 5 months go ????????

I have had such an amazingly wonderful summer here in the UP.  The weather was perfect, the days were filled with such peace and beauty that I really don't know if I am ready to head south.  I love my family that I left in Florida and Georgia but honestly, this self inflicted isolation up here in with wilds of Michigan is really quite nice.  I haven't had to babysit anyone, (other than The Man),  I haven't had to deal with neighbors or anyone else demanding my time or attention.   

The only "down side" to living up here for several months at a time is I miss having MY doctors so close at hand.  Being the hypochondriac that I am I miss being able to pick up the phone and know that if I need to see someone I can probably get an appointment within days, if not hours.  And all those appointments are no further than ten minutes away.  

But it is now the last week in September, leaves are turning color and starting to fall from the trees.  The temperatures have cooled down to the mid 40's at night and most days don't warm up any higher than the mid 60's.  My bones are starting to ache and my joints are beginning to freeze up and scream for warmer temperatures.  (It is amazing how a persons body reacts to weather changes. I always thought the old folks were crazy when they said they could tell when the weather was getting ready to change but they actually know what they're talking about.)

And so this week is "Pack It Up" week.  The tractor has been put to sleep in the lean-to, the ride-on lawn mower is in the garage, the patio furniture has been put away in the shed, thanks to Tanner and his brother Trevor, and the apples are ready to be picked.  The trunk of the car is 3/4's packed only waiting for the last minute clothes and whatevers that will get thrown in there just before we leave.  

I am hoping to bring some of the 12 Gazillion apples down south with me.  This year the apple trees have exploded and the deer and I are enjoying their bounty. (I was very careful NOT to eat green apples this year !)  I don't want to pick them today and have them sitting around for another 3 days so I'm hoping that Wednesday will be a nice enough day to go out around the yard and pick a couple of dozen to take with us.  Because I want only the BEST apples to take home I have been walking around the yard today picking one apple from each tree to see which ones are the tastiest.  The majority of them will get made into apple sauce but I want some nice ones to munch on during the trip and to give to my friends back home.  The biggest problem in picking the apples is that the deer have eaten all the ones on the lowest branches so I need someone to get up on a ladder to pick the good ones that are high in the trees.  I think one of the neighbor boys is coming over Wednesday afternoon to give me a hand as long as it's not snowing.  

As I walked around the yard today checking on the apples I found myself in tears at the thought of leaving here.  I was taken totally by surprise by this reaction.  I guess that just proves what a wonderful summer it was.  

WHO IS SHE ??????

 Today I had my picture taken for my church directory.  At least I thought I had MY picture taken but when the lady showed me the 3 different shots I had no idea who the woman in the pictures was.  She looked a lot like my mother but my mom's hair was not that white. And my mom surely was not that large or old.  

So who can that person be ???????

Each morning when I get up and look in the mirror I see me.  Some days I look better than others but the me that I see is a much younger version of the woman in the church photo.  I DON'T have all those wrinkles.  I DON'T have a quadruple chin, (DOUBLE chin would be a blessing compared to the saggy, baggy flesh hanging around that strange woman's neck. ) And I am certainly NOT THAT OLD !!!!!

SO . . . who is she ?

I HATE having my picture taken.  I NEVER look good in photographs no matter what I wear or how I smile.  I know so many people who can roll out of bed with no make-up on and no preparation and still look fabulous.   I am NOT one of those folks.   Today I spent a half hour putting on make-up and fixing my hair.  (The make-up takes much much longer than the hair but you would never know it.). I had chosen my wardrobe for the photo, going with the basic black top that BFF Jeanne says you can never go wrong with.  I even put on a small gold necklace and gold earrings. I left the house thinking I was looking pretty good.

And then they showed me the photos they had taken.   Who is that woman in the photo ????

I love this parish here in Gladstone, MI.  I have been going to mass at All Saints church for the past 4 summers when ever I am in town.  Last year when I spent the whole summer up here I really got to feel like I was a member of this wonderful group of people.  This year I made it official and added my name to the parish register.  (I still have my Florida church which I love but Father Jamie and his parish are my favorites.) So a couple of months ago when Father Jamie announced they would be taking pictures of all the parish members for a church directory I felt that I wanted to be part of it.  I signed up knowing I would look horrid but at least with the picture they could now put a face and a name to the signature on the checks. 

Little did I realize the photographer would take pictures of some old lady who I don't know.  It's a puzzle to me how I know in my head just how good I look yet when my picture is taken this God awful ugly old hag shows up.  It must be a trick camera.

Naturally the photographer tries to sell each person a package of photos for you to give to your family as gifts. I can not imagine why my family would ever want a picture of this strange old woman so I refused any and all offers that were made.  I will get one FREE photo that I will probably hang on the refrigerator just to dissuade me from eating that extra piece of cake or dish of ice cream.  

I just hope I don't get too depressed looking at that strange old woman and thinking that some day I may actually start to look like her.  

SMELLS LIKE DOG FOOD

 Growing up in the late 40's and early 50's life was pretty basic and simple.  I was born at the end of WWII and my parents survived The Great Depression.  We didn't have a lot but we lived a great life.  My parents bought a tiny little house in the "country".  The part of Queens that we moved to was on the very edge of the "city line". Two blocks away was the end of New York City and the beginning of Nassau County. (Nassau County was beyond the country, it was practically the wilderness.I think there may even have been sightings of Big Foot in Nassau County back in the 50's.)  My dad owned a car and we even owned a TV set.  We were living like kings !

But food was a different story.  Because we had my 2 grandfathers living with us my mom had to stretch her food budget to accommodate four adults and one child.  She was a master at creating wonderful meals from practically nothing.  Back in those days she would buy chicken wings, ox tails and tongue because they were all cheap cuts of meat that no one else wanted.  (Remember that the next time you are paying a $1.25 for one chicken wing.). She made the best ox tail stew that I absolutely loved.  (I wish I had her recipe although I doubt I could afford to buy ox tails these days. ). My dad would go fishing in the summer so we always had fresh fish to supplement what my mom could buy at the store.  

Every Sunday we would have a "fancy" dinner with some sort of roast or "good" meat and potatoes and vegetables that we had grown in our tiny garden during the summer.  Because meat was so expensive we often had stews, soups and the most horrid meal of all . . .  HASH !!!   

I HATE HASH !!!!  Say the word "hash" and I break out into a cold sweat and run to my room screaming, "I'm NOT hungry!!!!!"   

Hash was one of those things that I could count on my mother making at least once every two weeks.  I would see her take out the old meat grinder that clamped on the edge of the kitchen table and I knew what was coming.  All of the left overs from the previous week would get mashed into the meat grinder and get ground up into a most disgusting mess that my mom would then fry up with some potatoes and present it to us for dinner.  My dad and grand fathers LOVED hash.  I would gag and slide under the table with hopes of escape before I was forced to put any of that nasty mess into my mouth.  To me hash smells and looks like dog food.  You can put gobs of catchup on it, mix it up with eggs and serve it on a silver platter but I still will NOT eat it.  

Enter into my adult life these two men . . .  Husband and The Man.  Guess what their favorite food is ???  YUP!  Both these guys love hash.  (Gag me with a spoon!).  Husband would always get hash and eggs when ever we went out for breakfast.  The Man does the exact same thing.  

When hash is served in a restaurant it ALMOST smells and looks like something eatable but when I buy a can of it for The Man . . .  THAT is a whole other ball game.  Being the good person that I am I DO purchase small cans of the nasty stuff as a special treat for the poor guy but as soon as I open that can and I get a look at the clotted mess of stuff in the can and smell that God awful smell all I can think of is,              "DOG FOOD".  (Along that same line I will not eat "chunk light tuna" because THAT looks and smells like cat food. My BFF Jeanne will back me up on that one. It's solid white Albacore tuna or nothing for us!)

Call me a snob or what ever but I stand firm on these two food items.  I will eat just about anything including octopus, squid, moose and venison but if you hack up any one of those things and grind it up with what ever else goes into the making of hash I will not go anywhere near it. 

The strange thing is I LOVE corned beef, which most canned hash is made from. The Man HATES corned beef but loves hash.  Go figure !

WHY BUY IT ???????

 I have often wondered why people buy certain things.  Like when you are sitting in a parking lot watching some poor fool trying to park their big car or pick up truck and they can't get the damn thing into the parking space.  I usually ask myself why the dope bought such a huge vehicle if they can't drive it. If you know you are a lousy driver get yourself something small that you can handle without looking like a complete idiot when you try to` drive it or park it.  

Likewise,  why do people buy HUGE houses and then complain constantly about how hard it is to keep up with the cleaning and maintenance of it?  Unless you can afford a full time house keeper why do you need such a big house? 

 If you need the big house because you have so much stuff then maybe you should question why you bought so much stuff.  Along those lines I have to question why people rent storage units.  This is a burning question up here this summer because storage buildings are popping up on every road.  This is a "farm" community but for what ever reason the people of the UP seem to need space to store who knows what.  Just this summer there were three (3) new multi unit storage buildings built in a 5 mile radius of where we are.  Why?   What are people storing in these places ?  Maybe I don't want to know.

But I digress from my original question of  "Why buy it?"  This is a direct question I would like to ask The Man each and every day. Why is there SO much stuff here ?   I know we have discussed this before but today when The Man got himself all wound up over my doing a load of laundry I just had to ask myself yet again "WTF ?"  Or "WBI ?"

I average 3 loads of laundry a week.  One day a week I wash sheets and towels.  The other two days I am washing clothes.  I do not think this is an excessive amount of laundry for two people but apparently The Man does not agree.  Thus his comment today,  "This new washer is going to die if  "WE"  keep doing so much wash !"  (I would like to have asked him when was the last time HE did a load of wash but I kept that one to myself.). 

Firstly I would like to point out that the washer and dryer are a small stackable unit.  Neither is full size because . . .  we needed to save space?  Or because . . . that is what he had before.  The room that houses the washer and dryer is a large room that contains a butcher block, a drain sink and a set of metal shelves .  There is so much wasted space in this room but that is a battle I am not willing to fight or even discuss.  Could the room hold a full size washer and dryer?  Of course . . . but WE bought the small stackable unit.  So given that I can only do mid size loads of laundry it stands to reason that I need to do MORE loads.  Also the fact that there are 2 people living in this house and not just one MAN there is double the wash that needs to be done.  Factor in that we had two weeks of house guests and multiple bed sheets and towels to launder the number of loads of wash tripled over the past month. 

Thus the question, "WHY BUY IT" if you are going to complain every time I do the laundry ???   

It is just The Man being a man and I know that but it doesn't keep me from wanting to hit him with the bottle of detergent.  

PERPLEXING PILLS

As part of the aging process we get to experience all sorts of interesting ailments.  If you go to see a doctor about these ailments I can almost guarantee you will be prescribed some sort of medication.  (I do know some Senior Citizens who manage to avoid all medications but those folks are few and far between.)  Most of us old folks have a list of medications as long as the Gettysburg Address.  

This is true of both The Man and myself.  And because we are both going to doctors on a regular basis,(usually two or three times a month), we need to have that list of medications with us at all times. Being the Type "A" personality that I am I have put these lists into my computer where I can up-date them regularly. I carry with me a print out of both his and my medication list so that any time we see a doctor I can just hand them the list and they can make a copy.  So much easier than trying to remember them all.  

My list of medications has five (5) items on it.  I consider that a lot but hey, if they keep me alive and relatively healthy I'll take what ever the doctor tells me.  (Except for Statins for cholesterol medication.  I REFUSE to take that because of all the side effects.)  

The Man's list of medications is considerably longer . . . Because he has heart and lung issues he takes many pills and has many inhalers.  

And here lies the problem.  The Man gets all his medications from the Veterans Administration. (VA) When he starts running low he makes a call and within days pills show up in the mail box.  But because he has VA doctors in both Michigan AND Florida there are pills crossing back and forth in the mail when ever we change location.  Then there are the times when The Man forgets to call when he is running low so he has to make a "panic" phone call to have pills Fed-Ex over night.  With all these pill bottles coming and going he has a difficult time keeping track of his medicine. 

Now, I have mentioned, on occasion, that The Man has problems getting rid of things he no longer needs. Not only does this apply to furniture and stuff but it also goes for his medications.  He may have not fewer than twenty-seven bottles of the same pill stashed throughout the house.  (Well, maybe 3)  Open any cabinet in the kitchen or any drawer in the 2 dressers in the bedroom and you will find bottles of pills. They could be pills that he was prescribed forty-seven years ago or they could be pills that were his wife's. (She died 10 years ago). As far as I can tell there is no rhyme or reason for any given pill to be located where it is.  He just seems to stuff the pill bottles in the nearest open space and then panics when he can't find them.  I have tried to get him to organize the pills but that is a loosing battle. The Man insists that he knows EXACTLY what pill is where.  I have my doubts.

Anyway . . .  today we sat at the kitchen table because it is Tuesday and Tuesday for The Man is pill day.  I DID get him to start using one of those pill organizers that have a compartment for each day of the week.  Once a week he sits down and sets up his daily pill intake for the coming week. This way he only has to search for the pill bottles once a week rather than daily.  As he started his filling of the holder he decided to count pills to make sure he would have enough of all of them until we got back to Florida. All was going well until he realized he had THREE bottles of the same medication and each bottle contained a different dosage pill. One was for 40 MG pills, one was for 20 MG pills and one was for 10 MG pills. This totally threw the poor guy into a panic. "Which bottle has he been taking pills from?"  "What dose should he be taking each day?"  It was a major crisis !!!

Thankfully we had his medication list stating that he should be taking 20 MG each day. BUT . . . he had cut some of the pills from each bottle in half.  Why ? Because they are large pills and hard to swallow.  Just to make sure we had this dosage right I got out THE BOOK which I take to all his appointments so I can take notes.  I learned early on that twenty minutes after seeing a doctor The Man will not remember a single thing he was told. This way we have it in writing as proof that I am not making up anything.  Upon checking THE BOOK I found where it said, (I had highlighted this),   "take 20 MG DAILY AT BEDTIME!!!"   You would think that would be the end of it but NO . . .   The Man then decided he could combine all the pills.  NOOOOOOO !!!!!!!!   I "gently" explained that because they were different amounts he had to keep them all separate.  I took a black magic marker and wrote across the front of each bottle exactly how many pills to take each day. Then to be sure he didn't "F" it up I put the two bottles that were 40 and 10 MG doses away in a bag in a drawer in the dresser. I went so far as to write on the bag, "DO NOT TAKE !"  

Would it have been easier to throw out the 2 bottles . . . of course . . .  BUT . . .   Well you know we can't throw anything away.  

When The Man kicks the bucket who ever moves into this house better have it zoned for "business" because there will be enough pills here to open a pharmacy.

Move over CVS and Walgreens !!

" LEFT BRAIN"

Have you ever heard of Jeanne Robertson ?   She is a motivational speaker and humorist.   She is a VERY funny lady . . .  funny as in "HA HA", not funny as in " peculiar".  I love watching her on Youtube, you really must check her out if you don't know who she is. 

Ms Robertson is married. She refers to her husband as, "Left Brain".  No need on my part to ask why she does this. I personally think she is being very kind when she calls her husband by this name because you all know I think the male species have NO brains. Ms Robertson at least gives her man credit for having a brain.  I can identify with this very funny lady on so many levels. I mention all this to set the foundation for today's exchange with The Man.

My latest encounter with my dear, sweet but often confused man occurred yesterday as we were driving our biweekly trip to pulmonary therapy in Manistique.  When you make a round trip twice a week for five months each year for five years you can pretty much memorize each and every landmark. For instance I know that once we drive through Rapid river we don't pass another town until we get to Manistique.  Thankfully there are two rest areas between these two little towns so if we need a potty stop we are literally, "good to go".  

"Markers" along the way to let us know where we are in the ride include the storage units, the falling down barn, the "nesting pole" with or without what we think are falcons, the old winery that is now being converted into a mini brewery, the "doggy resort", (which is an old motel converted into a kennel), several small motels and the "junk pile". (There is a billboard a few hundred feet before the "junk pile" that advertises another "antique" sale place in Manistique called Christophers so we have named this junk spot the same name. I have no idea if it has a name of it's own because there are no signs anywhere so for us it is" Christophers".)  

This road that we drive twice a week runs along the northern shore of Lake Michigan so it is a main thoroughfare for getting from one side of the lake to the other.  In most places it is only 2 lanes but there  are occasionally areas that widen out to 4 lanes to allow the trucks and tourists who are in a hurry to pass the slower moving locals. It's a very pretty drive that really doesn't get boring because there are always some small changes to the scenery each time we pass.  Sometimes these changes are a subtle as a deer standing in a field or as bothersome as road construction. Which ever it is it keeps the ride interesting. 

About ten miles before we arrive at Manistique and shortly after the turn off for "Big Springs" there is a very old, what used to be, motel.  I use the term "motel" very loosely because it looks more like the movie set for the Bates Motel, aka a dump.  It's a one story building with about eight units that have seen MUCH better days.  The parking lot is all torn up and the building itself looks as if it may collapse any day if it doesn't burn down first.  There are three or four OLD and rusted pick-up trucks and cars scattered in front of the building which makes us think that maybe there are some less than reputable characters inhabiting the building but we have yet to EVER see a live human being any where on the property.  There are two signs, one at either end of the parking lot that state, "NO TURN AROUND".  I personally would drive the extra twenty miles to find a better/safer spot to turn around in but I guess it must be a problem for the inhabitants of the motel.

Adjacent to this motel there is a small run down little house which may or may not have been the residence for the original motel owner. The parking lots are connected and up until this past year there has been a HUGE amount of "junk" (aka "antiques"?) scattered across about thirty feet in front of the little house and overflowing into the "motel" parking lot.  It appears that someone has taken it upon themselves to organize and contain the mess in order to turn the "junk" into a business.  (Think Flea Market that has been sitting out in the weather for several years and actually has FLEAS. It looks as if someone went to the dump, collected trash and set it out in the parking lot for sale. "One mans garbage is another mans treasure" ?) This is what we call "Christophers". 

Anyway . . .  each time we pass this mess we laugh and make comments about the crap that is "For Sale". I imagine you could pretty much find anything here if you wanted to take the time to search. The inventory runs the gamut from kitchen appliances to bicycles to baby seats to clothes.  (Ewwwwwww!)   One of our jokes is about who would EVER stop there to look at this stuff. We have only seen people "shopping" there once or twice so I don't think it is a booming business.

And now to the point of this long story . . .   Yesterday as we drove past Christophers The Man said, " I wonder where all that stuff comes from." I asked what he meant so he went on to ponder further.  The Man couldn't imagine where this "crap", (my word not his) came from. "Who keeps all that stuff around? Where does the owner of "Christophers" get all that 'JUNK' ?" (HIS word not mine.). As I sat there wondering if he was actually being serious in not knowing where "crap" comes from I realized he was indeed puzzled. The Man who has three garages, a cellar and an attic FILLED with stuff couldn't understand where "Christopher" found his treasures to sell. There was ZERO realization that he himself was a major potential supplier to the Christopher's of the world. 

As I sat there in the car next to The Man I tried to think of a nice way of telling him that he had as much, if not more, inventory than Christopher.  I realized there was no point in even trying to approach that topic.  The Man would not and could not ever imagine in his "Left Brain" that he was the U.P "Antique" dealer equivalent of a Mexican Cartel .