Showing posts from November, 2022

Ray Of Hope

  It was still quite dark when we left our house at 5:30 this morning. We decided to leave early because rain was pelting down and fog hung low over the roads. We had wound our way through the wicked switchbacks on the way to Helen, Ga. and I was finally unclenching all my muscles from trying brake the car from the passenger side when the phone rang. It was Dr. Ross. There had been an emergency with a patient with an aneurysm that would likely take up the better part of the day. The surgical suites close at 3 pm for elective surgeries and he gave us the option of postponing or coming on and hoping the aneurysm would be done before 3. Then a very tired surgeon would take care of my husband's leg. Or he would have to wait until tomorrow morning in hopes of being worked in. The other option was to reschedule. I knew what my decision would be, but I let the patient make his own decision and we were in agreement. So, we turned around and went back the way we came through the treacherous


  Tomorrow will start far too early in order to get to the hospital. I think my husband is not having good thoughts about going under the knife. I am not exactly looking forward to it, either. I keep telling him how much better he will feel. This may come back and bite me in the butt as he will throw it in my face as he recovers and is in pain. Thank goodness for the She Shed! A few weeks ago, a package addressed to me arrived. That is not unusual, most packages are addressed to me. I opened it and was confused. I pulled a box out that said simply "ring". I showed it to the man in my life who is apt to buy things such as this. He had to tell me what it was. In case you are like me and don't keep up with technology, it is a doorbell with a camera. You can see who is there on your phone. You can watch the wind blow leaves, too. The strange part is that we didn't order it and don't know who sent it. The return address was a distribution center and nothing has shown u

Give Thanks

  So, my new route took us through Atlanta ... on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. If you have never driven through a big city, you won't appreciate how S L O W the interstate is on the day before a holiday. A good chunk of time was lost there, then coming out of Macon, there was a stalled semi on the side of the road that bottlenecked the traffic into one slow moving lane. I had planned to hit a grocery store to make my cranberry salad. I didn't want to make it on Tuesday. It would keep fine in the fridge, but congealed salads tend to weep a little if stored too long. I needed some of the ingredients that were not in my pantry. But, I thought "No problem, I will be there in plenty of time to hit a grocery store".  Things seldom turn out the way you plan. Well, in my world that seems to be the rule. Then I sent HeWho needs lots of details on a list, with my brother-in-law to the store. Instead of Mandarin oranges in a can, he bought a bag of cutie tangerines. I left

The Aftermath

  Home again after a wonderful time with family in Perry, Ga. The trip down was a nightmare! It took almost 8 hours! Should have been 4 hours. Part of it was my fault. I had it in my head that the easier route to Piedmont hospital in Atlanta would be about the same time as the earlier route had been, but with better roads. We decided to give it a trial run. We went through Blue Ridge, Elijay and Jasper before we hit interstate and headed south. The roads to the interstate were 4 lane and easy driving, but did not cut the time. We came home through Gainesville, then Helen. Two lane roads that were not clogged with traffic, but after you reach Helen, the road winds around the mountain and has some really impressive curves at 15 mph! We made it home in 4 hours, but we made some stops along the way, so the trip non-stop to Perry would be about 3 1/2 hours. My bad. But, I hate that road! As long as I don't have to drive in the dark, I will be okay. Curves bother me at night, I can't

If I Knew You Were Coming, I'd Have Baked A Cake

  I am getting my contributions to the big meal on Wednesday today. I was talking to my sister-in-law yesterday and she wondered how one managed to bake in my tiny kitchen. She has seen it, so she knows how tight it is. So, I decided to detail my adventures of the day. I am baking a Gingerbread Pumpkin cake with Rum Sauce. Not your traditional dessert for Thanksgiving, but HeWho loves to eat is not a fan of Pumpkin Pie. He will say that he does not like the flavor of pumpkin. So, of course, I have made it my life's mission to prove him wrong. He is well known for disdaining certain foods and saying he has never, and will never, eat them. Poor guy has eaten so many things he has on that list and doesn't even know it. I woke this morning and sipped coffee as I wandered through Facebook and contemplated my world. I try to be on the quiet side while my husband gets his beauty sleep. Not that it matters, he sleeps without hearing aides. As soon as he got up, though, I got to work. F

Big Boy Toy

  Finally!! You might (or might not) recall that a man with an excavater was supposed to come early October and remove a portion of the embankment that will allow me to park my car with ease. We were all a-tither with excitement to get this done. The weather was still nice enough that I could be able to get the area cleaned up. Well, he was a no-show. At the latter part of the month, HeWho had arranged this magical experience, called the man and was told that it would be early November because he had Covid and was recovering. This particular man has a job to do on the site to the south of us on a lower level and talked about using the dirt he removed from our embankment on the other site and giving us credit for it. I didn't want to sacrifice my dirt, since I can always make use of dirt in some fashion or another. But, the deal had been made and I resigned myself to losing all the dirt that I was eager to level out some areas with. I shouldn't have worried, since he never showe

Ornate Boxes

  I was enchanted with the carved wooden boxes that Martha and Cujo's ashes were delivered in. So much so that I launched a search for similar boxes for the other five animals whose ashes languished in various boxes. Three of my babies were in plastic white boxes, while Sarge and Louise are in cardboard. Oscar and Wall-E have paw prints that were cast at the crematory. Sweet Emmy Lou, Sarge and Louise have none. They died earlier and I suppose they weren't doing cast paw prints at the time. It cost more, so I am pretty sure they would have been offered if they were available. I found some wooden boxes and I ordered three. One large and two smaller. The larger box wasn't big enough to contain Louise, the Saint Bernard. Sarge, the Collie would have fit fine, but in the end I put Oscar and his wife dog, Emmy together in the bigger box. They fit perfectly. They were married, after all. Oscar was already named when I got him. My daughter, Jill, who already had a Saint Bernard th

Remembering Martha

  The trip down the ravine in an effort to rescue our cat has had lasting effects. Adrenaline powered the trip down and I don't know that I felt any pain or indication of an injury to myself. I was heart broken on the way back up the ravine. After Martha was no longer breathing the need to get to the top with great speed no longer existed, so I sort of half crawled and clawed my way up. After securing that Martha would not be accessible to the dogs we went inside and just sat there in shock. I put the food away that was to be supper, neither of us had an appetite and we went to bed. The scene I had witnessed played over and over again in my head and I tried to wrap my mind around it. I wanted a different ending, but could not make it happen. The next day was not any better. Upon awakening, HeWho loved his big cat announced that he wanted to move. You might recall that this same man swore we would NEVER move again. For him to want to move tells me just how profound this incident was

Surgery Woes

  We had the appointment with the surgeon's nurse practitioner. I really like her, it is like seeing an old friend when we go. In case you may be wondering why I go to my husband's appointments. Out of necessity. His ability to hear every single word is just not there. When he fills in what he THINKS was said, things get out of whack. When asked about the medications on his chart and whether or not he is still taking them, his eyes glaze over and he stares off into the unknown. He has no idea, I take care of all of it. I make sure the refills are done and I carefully fill his pill taker every week. All that is required of him is to determine what day it is and whether it is morning or evening and take the pills. I know it sounds easy and it should be. I am at a loss in figuring out how he can manage to get them mixed up. I do two weeks at a time and it looks as if he does a game of eenie meenie minie mo and just randomly takes pills. If he doesn't spill them. Spilling them


  Today is the day, people. Find your polling station and cast your ballot! As you all know if you have been "listening", we are voting for the first time in a new state. I asked HeWho talks to people where were we to go to vote. I figured he would have already asked around and located the spot. When I say he talks to people, I meant that he talks to strangers as well as people he knows. He has that gift of finding common ground to start a conversation. After watching him for almost 49 years I have picked up some of that skill and can do the same. I am, however, a bit more selective, listening to my inner voice and trusting instinct. I find it to be a good way to eliminate interactions with creepy people. This morning he went, as is his routine to McDonald's for his morning biscuit. I am more than willing to offer up alternatives from my kitchen for the man who swears it is only a biscuit, no sausage. I don't necessarily take his word for it, he eats it before he gets

Vanilla, Just Vanilla

  HeWho's name is Drew has lost interest in the homemade vanilla extract adventure. After I denied his request to open the bottle for a sniff, he stopped shaking the bottle. I took over and it is coming along. Nice color and it smells heavenly. Yes, I allowed myself a sniff. I am, after all, the cook in charge. After I strain the liquid to be bottled I will let the vanilla bean pieces dry, then add  course granualted sugar to make vanilla sugar. HeWho doesn't need to know this. He will want to taste it every day. He doesn't need to know I sniffed the bottle, either. Getting ready for cold weather and bringing in all the plants is a messy endeavor. Pieces of plants break off and fall as I re-pot and trim excess off the big pots. I could have just swept it all to the ground and then raked it into the ravine. But, you all should know by now that I am nothing, if not thrifty. Faced with the challenge of potting the small sprigs after rooting them in water, I went outside to rum

Martha Came Home

  Martha came home today. Took me back to the beginning of my grief journey. I wish the kind woman had not shared the fact that she found punture wounds in my Martha's ear. I would assume there were a lot of pucture wounds and the dogs picked him up by his head, so .... The box is a little smaller than Cujo's and the decorative carvings are a little different, I suppose Martha's fat didn't turn to ash and he was a cat, after all is said and done. Left a huge hole in my heart, no matter the size of Martha. We bypassed the vet office this time and saved over $100. So, we didn't get a cast of his footprint the vet's office did. Wasn't worth $120, though. They snipped some fur for me. She probably had to wash the mud out of it first. He was so mangled and muddy, it was impossible to know what color his fur was. The flowers at the bottom of the thoughtful verse are actually Martha's paw prints. Cujo's were on his, but I didn't realize it at the time.