OH NUTS

Today's tale is about how I almost killed myself a few weeks ago.
I LOVE nuts. Pistachio, almond, hazel, Brazil, cashews, peanuts, and my all time favorite, walnuts. I will take a hand full of walnuts as a snack any time but never, never macadamia nuts. Years ago I discovered that if I eat even the smallest amount of macadamia nuts I get violently sick to my stomach. It isn't pretty and it sure does keep me far, far away from anything with those little suckers in it. I often wonder if I traveled to Hawaii would I have a problem with the food. Do they put macadamia nuts in everything over there?

Strangely enough it was not a macadamia nut that almost killed me, but rather a hand full of almonds. Science and medicine are dangerous things. We are constantly being told that this food or that food is good or bad for us. And seeing how I love ALL food, (except you know what sort of nuts) I am always willing to listen to the researchers and add something more to my diet. (I have yet to take anything OUT of my diet but maybe that will come some day.) I had been reading a few things about the wonderful benefits of almonds so I bought a bag of the delicious little guys to have on hand as a snack choice rather than walnuts. (I really do prefer my walnuts to be baked inside of brownies or sprinkled on ice cream but will eat them plain.)

I was headed out for a swim in our pool and grabbed a fist full of almonds as I was going out the door. I popped 2 into my mouth and put the rest of them on a chair while I jumped in and cooled off. In mid air I took a deep breath preparing to go under water and inhaled the semi chewed almonds. As I came up for air I found I couldn't inhale because of all the pieces now in my wind pipe. There was no thought of panic, no life flashing before my eyes, just the cool calculated thoughts of OH SHIT, WHAT HAVE I DONE NOW!? I could cough and I could get a very tiny bit of air in but it was not enough to survive on for very long. I figured I better head inside before I passed out in the pool and Ger found me hours later floating face down. I was motivated to breathe very shallow gasps of breath that sounded like the last gasps of a dying cow. I couldn't speak so when I got inside I had to bang on the counter top to get husbands attention. As usual he was sitting at the other end of the house watching TV. He looked up with his most annoyed expression on his face, like "what the hell are you doing now to disturb my day?" but my frantic gasps and waving of arms alerted him that there might be a problem here. All I could think of to do was wash out the remaining nuts from my mouth and stand on my head to get the rest of the mess out of my wind pipe and lungs. I knew the standing on my head was really not an option for a 65 year old fat lady and I didn't have a clue what I wanted husband to do but I knew I didn't want to die alone. (That expression "Misery loves company" also applies to people who are dying.) Ger by now is in the kitchen with me, a panicked expression on his face and a thousand questions pouring from him. "Should I call 911?" (I hadn't really gotten to the point of thinking I REALLY was going to die so I answered NO to that one.) "What should I do?" was asked repeatedly and I never did have an answer for that. I figured the Heimlich maneuver was probably a good thought but I also knew that there was no way I would have time to teach it to husband before I passed out. My only option was to throw myself across the edge of the sink a few times while rinsing my throat. I could feel that the air was getting into my lungs better in the bent position so I just stayed there for a while until I could breath easier and stop coughing. I must say it did put a really good scare into me and I will no longer eat anything unless I am sitting down and paying attention to what I am doing.

I realize my brain is getting mushy in my "old" age and I do have to pay attention more to things that I do but when I have to concentrate on eating I think I am one step away from the padded room in the dementia ward. Although, if you think about it, this may be a very good way for me to diet. If I have to concentrate more when I am eating I shouldn't be snacking as much so in the long run I may have discovered a way to lose weight. I really don't want to be a fat corpse .

Pilgrimage

Went to mass last night and in passing the priest mentioned "THE PILGRIMAGE OF LIFE". What a powerful phrase that is. We are born, we live and we die. But if we do it right our life should be a pilgrimage. Webster's Dictionary defines "PILGRIMAGE" as a journey to a sacred place, or THE JOURNEY OF LIFE.

If life is a pilgrimage that we are all on, if we do believe in life after death and God, then it stands to reason that as we are making this journey we should be trying to prepare ourselves for our arrival at the final destination. It's like going to the opera at Carnegie Hall and wearing your very best clothes. Carnegie Hall is not some place you go wearing cut off jeans a tank top and sandals. Likewise, if you are going to the beach you pack a picnic lunch, put on your bathing suit and sun screen, bring plenty of snacks and drinks and a good book to read. We prepare for our destinations every day so how about this long term journey?

One of my cousins once said that he thought it was enough to be a good person in order to "Get to Heaven." Is it enough to just put on your bathing suit but not bring sunscreen and water when you go to the beach? Sure, you can do that but you will probably suffer some burns and possible dehydration.

I think being a pilgrim in life is a little more complicated than just arriving at our destination unprepared. I think as we journey through life we need to keep in mind just where we want to end up when the ride is over. I want to be like husband. When ever he goes anywhere his "New York" comes out and he has to push and elbow his way to the very front. I don't want to do the pushing and shoving but I do want to be front row center when the curtain goes up or comes down. I want to be that pilgrim who worked hard to get where I am going. I want to pick up lots of other pilgrims along the way and help them to find the right road. I want God to say to me, "You made it Cath. I know it wasn't easy for you but you kept trying over and over to get it right and you did good!"

When I think Pilgrimage I always associate that word with the Crusades. Talk about a tough journey. Those guys earned their spot in Heaven. But we live in this cushy world where we drive here and there with our Mocha Latte in one hand, our Blue Tooth in our ear and our IPod keeping us on schedule. When was the last time we put down the phone and listened instead to the lady standing next to us on line? When you found out she walked to the store did you offer to drive her home, even though it is out of your way? Do we thank God each and every day, as many times as we can, for all the blessings we have? Do you go to church? Church is like having a grandma that you never visit. You talk to her on the phone once in a while but wouldn't it be really nice to stop into her house for a visit? I really don't understand how we expect to get to the end of this journey and have God know us when we have never gone out of our way to get to know him.

Stop and think about the Pilgrimage we are all on and look at what you are taking on your trip with you. Maybe it's time to put down the double cappuccino with extra foam and pick up a road map. I've gotten some pretty good directions from the priests on Sundays but there are lots of ways to take this trip. Have a good ride, don't just sit back and watch the scenery go by. But when you do look at the scenery just remember who put it there.

HUH ?

Once again I am stumped to make sense out of something that Husband said to me. Please let me know if this makes any sense to you because I am really starting to question my sanity.

This morning I opened one eye to check the clock because Jan the Bug Man was coming some time between 10:30 & 11:00 to rid our home of all the pesky things that love to live in Florida. (This does NOT including snow birds or tourists) Jan shows up once a month and walks around the inside walls of our home, squirting as he keeps up a running conversation. (He is spraying some mysterious chemical that I'd rather not know the composition of. All I know is that my house does NOT have bugs. AMEN !)

When Jan tells us he will be here between 10:30 & 11 you can almost bet he will be here by 11:30 so I wasn't in any panic to get my bones out of the bed. But then I got thinking of all I wanted to get done today so I rolled on out to start my day. I was puttering around the bed room when Husband came through the bedroom door way only to stop dead in his tracks with a bewildered look on his face. He looked at me and said, "Oh, you're up. I was coming in to wake you to ask if you wanted to keep sleeping." Let me point out the key part of this sentence

"I WAS COMING IN TO WAKE YOU TO ASK IF YOU WANTED TO KEEP SLEEPING . "

Does anyone else out there get the insanity of that statement ? I get what he was asking but it still just doesn't quite make a hell of a lot of sense to me. Either let me freaking sleep in peace and quiet or, if you think I am not capable of making rational decisions about when to get up, come in and wake me. But waking me to ask if I want to sleep is just plain STUPID !

I am not kidding you folks. I live with this man and day after day I shake my head and wonder if I am hearing right, thinking rationally or just plain nuts. I need some validation folks.

AM I CRAZY ? ( I really think I should have asked some one that question about 41 years ago when I decided to marry the man.)

HURRICANE SEASON IS HERE

Hurricane season is here. I know because the Weather Channel is on the TV rather than Fox News.
Hurricane season begins when Husband starts watching the news only for the weather. As soon as the map of the Atlantic, covered in little orange & green swirls, appears on the TV life as we know it comes to an end. Good thing the kids and grand kids all left our house before hurricane season or they wouldn't get to see their grand father. "Storm Watcher", as he is affectionately know to the family, sits glued to the TV 24/7. There are occasional grunts from that area of the house but for the most part life moves on around husband for these next couple of months. And this being PEAK time we are in attack mode. All focus is turned to the potential storms moving off the coast of Africa as we track them hour by hour in their move across the Atlantic. I actually watched a documentary about sand on the African Continent ( and I am making fun of husband?). No really, it was very interesting and it ended where the sand is swept into the air at the coast only to turn into potential hurricanes. It is pretty neat stuff but not that good that I want to live and breath hurricane watch for two -three months.

As a side note, husband just got a call from his Dr. with his test results from his physical last week. Husband's blood pressure, cholesterol, triglycerides, and EVERYTHING else are FANTASTIC. He is a walking poster boy for Senior Citizen Health. I, on the other hand, had to go see my cardiologist this morning and he just shook his head at me for the 10 minutes I was there. My BP continues to climb, thanks to the fact that my weight also continues to climb because my stress level is just going through the roof. I am so happy I am taking such good care of husband but when is it my turn?

POOP PATROL

I am not writing about husband tonight because the poor dear is just exhausted from sitting all day talking to our guests. There was that half hour that he had to move his chair over near the BBQ while cooking the chicken but he is recovering in his recliner in front of the TV so we don't want to pick on him.

Instead we will discuss the great perplexity of POOP !

Being a grandma has many, many perks, not the least of which is knowing how to change a diaper. Or so you would think! Back in the dark ages of the 70's there was the problem of deciding on cloth diapers with accompanying rubber pants or those new fangled disposable things. The cloth diapers held the challenge of not stabbing your child to death with a diaper pin that was the size of a football, but those disposable things were just too new to trust. Then once we realized the NEW diapers were trustworthy enough to touch the bottoms of our children we had to learn a totally new skill. Getting the diaper on the baby, pealing the tape off the side of the diaper and getting it around to the front in one deft movement before the baby got the tape stuck to it's head or your arm. This tape was so sticky it stuck to everything it touched, except the diaper. Many a child of the seventies was seen with duct tape holding his diaper together because the tape from his diaper was stuck to the changing table for life. Now a days the challenge of diapering my grand children is DOES ELMO GO IN THE FRONT OR IN THE BACK? Diapers have come a long way but that is not the topic of the night.

Rather . . . The fine art of Pooper Scooping is what I would like to talk about. It seems that this past week I have picked up more than my share of DOG POOP ! This disgusting task is all part of dog sitting our neighbor's dog for 3 weeks. (WTF was I thinking?) Don't get me wrong, I love dogs. I had dogs as a kid but NEVER did I have to follow the dog around with a plastic bag. When the dog pooped in the yard my father would head outside each Sunday with his creation of a long stick with a tin can nailed on the end and with this "scooper" and a small rake he would walk around our massive 20'X20' back yard and collect all the deposits. He would then toss these droppings over the fence into the empty lot next door and that would be that! (Thinking back on it, my friends and I played in that empty lot all the time and never thought twice about what was under those leaves and brush.) If, for some reason, we walked the dog and it went in the street that's where the deposit would stay. Cars and rain would remove the poop and everyone was happy.

But now we live in a "CLEAN" environment and must pick up after our pets. I understand that, but this particular dog poops about 20 times a day. I don't know what is in it's dog food but I swear if we could find a use for poop this dogs owners would be millionaires. All the dog does is sleep and poop. (Not too unlike Husband but at least he is potty trained.) Dog, on the other hand, wakes up, walks out the front door and poops. If you take her for a walk she poops. If you walk out to the mail box and she follows you, she poops. And guess who gets to pick it all up!? It is a disgusting task and now that I am finishing writing this I am going to go out to the garage to go through the recycle bin to find myself a tin can and a stick.

And all this has just answered the age old question of . . . "What is better, a dog or a cat?" The cats have to take it hands down because they are smart enough to learn to poop in a box.

AM I THE ONLY ONE ?

Am I the only one who has Valium on her weekly shopping list? If only they would legalize pot I wouldn't need drugs. If they would legalize pot and drugs I wouldn't need alcohol. If I could have 24 hours ALONE I wouldn't need anything!
I have just had my last "conversation" of the evening with husband and I think I need All of the above mentioned aids. It is like talking to . . . I just don't know what but the conversation left me angry, upset, anxious and annoyed. It is almost midnight and there isn't a chance in hell that I can now go to sleep. So here I am spilling my brain to anyone who dares to read this.
Most conversations with husband are less than satisfying, and at most times not even close to pleasant. To be fair, I think he tries to converse but it always turns into a lecture or a homily. I used to be able to stay with it and appear interested but I gave that up long ago.
Tonight was my own fault though. I went into the garage for something and noticed a plastic garbage bag in the metal and glass recycle bin. I pulled it out and saw that it was a bag of garbage from the kitchen. When I went back inside I asked husband (who was already in bed) if he had put the garbage out today. The wall of defense went up immediately and it was down hill from there. Personally I thought it was pretty funny that he had probably gotten distracted and left the garbage in the recycle bin but laughter was not what issued from this. I just never know when I will get a chuckle or when IT will hit the fan. Tonight was a hit the fan night and I am too tired to care. But that isn't true is it, if I am writing about it. Try as I may to "Not give a shit" I guess I really do.
Isn't that just the damnedest thing!

AND HOW IS THAT BLOOD PRESSURE DOING ? I go to see my cardiologist on Wednesday. Do you think he will give me a prescription for Pot or Valium?

But maybe I have a better cure for what ails me . . . Tomorrow my newest and most beautiful grand son is coming to visit. Baby Smith is now three and a half WEEKS old. The poor little guy was born in the midst of the family invasion of 2010 so he didn't get as much attention from grandma Cath as he should or could have. I will need to do something about that over the coming weeks. Tomorrow he and mom&dad and Grandma Lori are coming up for the day so I hope to get some quality time with the little guy. He is just amazingly beautiful but then with parents like K&K what would you expect?

HURRICANE LEAVES SOUTH FLORIDA

Yesterday, the first major hurricane of the season left South Florida. The storm has been whirling about for about 3 weeks now hitting various towns in the area. It did some minor damage at the Palm Beach Zoo and Lion Country Safari. The poor turtles at Loggerhead Turtle Rescue will never be the same. On Friday of last week the storm tripled in strength but then weakened by a third on Saturday. After causing major destruction in the area of my living room, kitchen, pool and garage it finally disappeared completely at 5:37 yesterday afternoon on a Delta flight to Atlanta.

Hurricane "Family" was welcomed here for its entertainment these past weeks but today was spent cleaning up the aftermath. It took 2 cleaning women two and a half hours to clean the inside of the house after Cath & Ger had spent 6 hours "putting away" all that was left from the storm. There still remains many loads of laundry and a garage and patio to "shovel" out.

If you should see any of the above "tornado's" that made up the hurricane be sure to duck and run as fast as you can. They are my grand kids and I want to keep them all to myself !

It is awfully quiet here tonight. Even the dog we are taking care of for 3 weeks is asleep on the floor. I think the invasion of grand kids has given the dog a permanent twitch. (It sort of matches mine.) We loved having Kaelin and Abby and Roman here but now it is time for Grandma and Grandpa to rest. Tomorrow Ger goes for his yearly physical and he expects the doctor to prescribe tranquilizers. Ger will probably use them on me.

The plan for tomorrow is . . . feed the dog and let it out to pee around 7:30AM. Crawl back in bed and lock the dog out of the bedroom so I can sleep till I can't sleep any more. And then I will sleep some more. I'll then get up for some dinner, crawl back into bed and watch a movie and then go to sleep for the night. I'll let you know how it works out.