Don't Kill the Messenger

Dealing with my father in law and his doctors is wearing on me. I'm a little tired of all the calls and the complicated message systems we have employed to be certain this man is doing what he needs to do and doing it all while avoiding stepping on the old man's feelings. He likes to feel like he's in charge, but he's completely deaf. The cardiologist's staff is worried giving him coumadin orders over the phone, and I don't blame them. I'm sure they call MLTL, too, but their first call is to me. I take the message and text his slave (my son) regarding any special instructions in respect to his medications or tests. If they don't call him, he gets all indignant and yells at everyone who'll listen that he is not a dotard (I've apologized to the doctor's staff more than once). The fact is, he is half dotard and has that pesky little problem of deafness as well. To hear him on the phone is a spectacle not to be believed as I'm sure he can be heard one town over. Hell, having the phone ring in his house is frightening when you don't expect such a loud ring and strobe lights. I always jump when it happens.

What a pain in the ass.

So today the cardiologist office staff called. Apparently, MLTL made an appointment for an echocardiogram and a stress test for tomorrow morning. The office called me with instructions, which I promptly texted to the slave. Nothing to eat or drink after 7AM...no caffeine all day today...blah, blah, blah. These are non invasive tests and totally normal for a cardiologist to order, except MLTL has no memory of making the appointments and now thinks the sky is falling.

His behavior tonight has been explained to me as over the top: "he's losing his mind over this" (not possible as it's already gone) and "he's gonna blow a gasket." He thinks he's going to die with the news that he needs these routine tests. He swears he had an echo last week, but I don't think so. I think he had an EKG, but there is no arguing with him. His mind is set on the sky falling.

There's no doubt in my mind that his blood pressure is up over this, but I'm not getting involved. Lately, I'm the Queen of Telephone Tag and I'm going to limit my involvement to just that.

Landmarks

Today is another one of those bittersweet days for me.

As I sat writing my annual update on my legal guardianship of Rachel to the probate court, the irony of it all smacked me hard upside my head. Why is this even necessary? Who better to make her decisions for her than the one who birthed her? After all, I've never done anything heinous to her, and I've spent her entire lifetime seeing to her every need.

A girl's 21st birthday should be met with great adult fanfare, don't you think? I know it was for both my first daughter and son, but for Rachel, we're laying low and celebrating with dinner at home and a cake. Oh sure, there will be presents, but I won't be taking her out for a beer.

Somehow, I don't think the court that oversees my guardianship would approve--even if I told them I know this little beer thief would love a good brew.

I hate the landmarks events in life. They only serve to remind me that, yet again, here is another event that proves her life will always be different and challenging. It makes me sad.

Oh what the hell, maybe I should just pop open a brew and leave it unattended...

I'm just yesterday's news

I find it very hard to keep up with technology from an emotional point of view. No sooner do I learn something new when it's time to let go of that knowledge and embrace the newest thing. For the most part, technological change is good--like my flat screen and lightweight television that I can lift alone--but some is just trying. I don't go readily though. So comfortable with the tried and true, I'm usually the last kid on the block with the latest gadgets.

Take music for instance. I was perfectly happy with albums when 8 tracks came out. Soon though, the best way to buy music was on cassette. It wasn't long before CDs came out replacing tapes--which I despise because they get scratched--and I had to buy all new equipment and music. Nowadays, most of my music is digital, which did me no favors when the V key on my laptop took a hit with water and fried the entire shebang (no, I hadn't backed up my files). I've not updated my Ipod since this tragedy and I'm stuck listening to an endless loop of the same old music.

Pieces of the baby quilt. Two down, four to go.

One technology I adore is video recording on my television. I do appreciate the fact that I could record all the television shows I'd miss while I was away and did indeed spend the second week of my vacation staying in my jammies all day and playing catch up with my DVR. Even if I'm home and able to watch, I still record my favorite shows because it allows me the ability to fast forward through the advertising. Love. That.

I also got a bit of knitting done in the process of getting caught up. On further reflection, I may appreciate this ancient art form of knitting because frankly, there is no modern technology involved with making loops with sticks and string, but that's a post for another day.

Sadly I can't knit and read at the same time. While I wish I could get into books on tape CD mp3 player, I'm much better with the written word. My mind just goes places once inside a book--places I usually like. It's also nice to hold a book in my hands and flip the pages. In addition to my knitting and travels, I've read 3 books while on vacation, and the fourth, well I'm working on that, but it's just too big to carry around. This got me to thinking it's time to get an e-reader. But which one? An Ipad? I've already got a MacBook that travels fairly well and frankly, I think an Ipad is way overpriced right now. A Nook? It's pretty spiffy and displays in color. This may be helpful for knitting books I may want to purchase. A Kindle? Ohhhh, I can't decide.

So I did the next best thing and downloaded the free Kindle app for MacBook to take for a spin and bought a book last night. I'm hooked. Completely.

Here I go again...

Snips and snails and puppy dog tails

Otherwise known as a cure for late winter doldrums...

About six months ago, I had lunch with my friend and her 2 1/2 year old son, Ethan. Half way through lunch, he tipped the salt shaker over and for some reason he cried when the contents spilled out. In an effort to get him to stop crying, I taught him to toss the salt over his shoulder for good luck. This made him laugh and cured his moment of perplexing heartbreak.

Today we met for lunch again with the now 3 year old boy and his 5 month old brother. To impress me, Ethan grabbed the salt shaker, poured a huge amount of salt into his hand and threw it over his shoulder with great enthusiasm and laughter.

I was so charmed by this little guy's ultimate demonstration of flattery: he hadn't forgotten me since the last time we met. After all, doesn't every girl want to be remembered with affection? I know he won't forget me now because when we finished lunch, I took him on his first ever escalator ride and forever cemented myself in his mind. We rode the escalator up and down while his mom and baby brother watched. Three times. It would have been more but for the baby who wasn't enjoying the day as much as his big brother. He was so darned cute on that escalator--a little scared, a little excited and very, very quiet. When we got to the top, he ran to the other side with glee.

I'd forgotten what it was like be immersed in the world of an industrious little boy, and frankly, I think I should get in on that action a little more often.

Duplicate Days

Key West Lighthouse

I swear on Saturday, the weather people drew a line on the map and said north of the line, there would be a lot of snow and south of the line, not so much, maybe one to three inches, but more mixed precipitation. Though we're a long way south of their imaginary line, we got 9 more inches of snow. Nine. I'm so over it, I refuse to show you photos and you'll just have to take my word that once again, we've been inundated with fluff.

A stunning Hibiscus on the grounds of Ernest Hemingway's home in Key West.

I could focus on the negative here, but I won't. I'm still on vacation so I don't have to drive in this slop. This made my husband happy because he got to drive my SUV to work and I'm snowed in drinking tea and knitting. Such punishment.

While I'm still working on my vest, which would come in handy with this stubborn winter weather, I'm actually casting on today for a baby blankie for a certain someone who is due to make an appearance in about a month. My sister and I are sharing this project so it'll be a joint work of love. It's a good thing I put the yarn for this project up high without fondling it too much because a certain dog, who shall remain nameless, found my Nordique yarn and lost his ever loving mind.

Stories of how bereft he was when I left town are the only thing that saved him from certain demise. He paced the entire time I was gone and cried at my bedroom door until the men would open it to let him see it was indeed empty. Feeling sorry for him, they left him out of his crate which is when he found the bag of yarn that probably smelled like me. He was so pathetic, the only thing I could do was forgive him.

Snowed in? Dog who loves me? Plenty of yarn the dog hasn't found yet? Sounds like the makings for a continuation of the perfect vacation, minus the sun. What's not to love?

What a difference a day makes

Moon setting over the Gulf of Mexico at sunrise, Saturday, February 19, 2011

Lunch for the pelicans at the wharf, noonish, Saturday, February 19th.

The Miami Vice cocktail, noonish, Saturday, February 19th. What? It was 5:00 somewhere in the world, right? If you notice, the drink came with fruit, so I think that makes it a meal.

Noonish in Detroit. Sunday, February 20th.

For some reason, I prefer yesterday's agenda.

Good bye my friend

There is no truth to the rumor that I bribed this bird to come so close with Girl Scout cookies.

A picture perfect day

Why, of course the drinks are spiked. Did you expect any less?

Giving new meaning to the word watch dog--there were two of them on the roof watching the world in Key West walk past.

I've never seen the chickens in Key West...only roosters. I know you can't get a rooster without a chicken, so it begs the question, where are they?

Filling our shopping bags along the way, we did walk here to snap this photo.

More later from paradise--we're off to soak up more sun and sand.

I don't think we're bringing sexy back down here

I know I've talked about our all girl vacations, theme songs and nicknames before, but it's really sad to mention here that we've gone from awesome songs like, I Wear My Sunglasses at Night, to reciting, Pee-Pee On the Potty (from Look Who's Talking, Too). Yes, I've news for you youngsters, locating the closest bathroom becomes a strategy as you age.



Even though we've lost elasticity of our bladders, we've not lost our sense of adventure. Tomorrow, at the butt crack of dawn (literally), we're boarding a gimongous catamaran and setting sail for a three hour tour. That puts me in the mind of another theme song, but this time we're sailing to Key West in a manner that allows us to drink and ride. Yes, vodka will be involved. We'll spend the day on Duvall Street and at Mallory Square and then set sail home. Can't wait.

In the meantime, I'll share with you some photos of a most picture perfect day on the beach:

My best friend wanted to know what I was reading that was making me laugh out loud. I showed her Laurie's ( of Three Dog Blog) book, and we agreed that the perfect beach read was one that could make you laugh like that. Though parts are serious, many are humorous, and I've got to tell you, I'm glad I chose to bring this book with me. It's now dogeared and full of sand, which only proves that it's loved.


We've gone parasailing on vacation before, in Mexico no less, where I'm sure there is no Coast Guard, nor regulations. This activity is on the back burner for Friday.

I fill out a bathing suit quite differently these days. This is all I'm willing to show you of what I've dared to wear on the beach. Maybe come Friday I'll take my tank top off and wear it as the two piece it is--then again--maybe not.


FYI, I am not the only person espied knitting on the beach. So what if I get sand in my yarn? I care not.

Proof of Life

Hello from the Gulf of Mexico where the temperatures are rising. Finally, we're able to leave the condo with just light clothing. No snowsuit required.

Yesterday, we took a drive a little further south to Fort Myers Beach, where we had lunch with my friend's family. Her dad is down here wintering in comfort.

While this critter appreciates a bird bath in the Gulf, I think the water temperatures are still a bit too chilly for a swim.

The wind, which is no longer out of the north, has died down enough to allow us the opportunity to walk the beaches in relative comfort. I'm thankful for that. The day I took this picture was cold, but tolerable, because we were walking.

This critter, a one man band, looked insane, drew a crowd (see his tip buckets?), and entertained the masses at the pier on Fort Myers Beach. He was truly awful, but like staring at a horrible train wreck, I couldn't tear my eyes away from him. I have a feeling he sings all the the way to the bank.

What kind of knitter would I be if I didn't at least sample the local offerings? We stopped by, A Good Yarn, yesterday morning. My friend, who doesn't knit, truly indulges me. I know I'm blessed, but call us even as she is frequently the recipient of my goods. On our way back to the condo after seeing, The King's Speech (most excellent), we saw the store and decided we needed to visit the next day. I'd checked their website and noticed they carried, Three Irish Girls, which I've only heard about.

It turns out, they carry a special line of TIG, one that's dyed specifically for them. Each color comes from a photo from around, atop or within the Gulf. Sea Flower was a close second to my choice, but really, how could I not buy a sock yarn of this colorway?


On the way home from the beach, I cast on the left front of the vest (this is Cloud Chaser). Fairly soon, I'll be working on that collar. To this point, it's all been easy enough, but I have a feeling the collar will give me an opportunity to practice my swear words. We'll see.

Greetings my chilly friends, from a rather nippy paradise

It's a little frosty in the Sarasota area tonight. While the temperature states it's a balmy 51 degrees, I can tell you that the "real feel" temp is quite different. Tomorrow may have to include a trip to Marshall's to buy some socks.

What? I packed one pair of shoes, one pair of socks, and I won't admit to how many pairs of flip flops may be residing in the closet right now. Given the current temperature, it's certainly more than I need.



We had an action filled day beginning with what should have been a one hour trip to the airport, but took two because of a surprise snowfall and icy road conditions and all at insane o'clock. To avoid missing our trip out of hell save time, we had to park in the extortionist long term parking deck at the airport. Still, we persevered and made it safely to Siesta Key by noon, had a late, and delicious breakfast (al fresco) at The Broken Egg, followed by pedicures and a little shopping to stock the fridge and vodka cabinet. By 6PM, we were spent, but somehow managed, wrapped in sweaters, jeans and blankets, to watch a glorious sunset on our first night here.



When we parked in the long term lot, I had the presence of mind to leave my ticket in the vehicle. Sometime tomorrow, my husband and son will fetch the car from that lot that's charging $20 a day to park so close to the terminal. Bless them both for saving us from that obscene rate. I think I owe them, but now I find myself wondering what I should do with the savings. Perhaps I should buy a down coat.

A down filled sky. Too bad it's so ccccccccold.

Do they even sell The North Face products down here? Perhaps thermal under armor is in order.

I jest with you though, because while the low may be 44 degrees here tonight, it's highly unlikely Detroit would even hit that as a high temperature on Sunday. It's beautifully warm enough for me when the sun is shining in the afternoon. In fact, while at breakfast, it was so warm in the sun that I broke into a sweat.


And yes...the sand really is so white it looks like snow. Unfortunately, it's so chilly, it sort of feels like that, too. This really is the most beautiful beach I've ever seen. It's so white and feels like powdered sugar, or at least it does when the sun is shining.

Sunday's agenda? Dinner at the Columbia restaurant on St. Armand's Circle in Sarasota, which will include the sangria and their very famous 1905 salad, not to mention the utterly delicious black bean soup, and finally, a trip to the theater to see, The King's Speech.

For the rest of the week, we are mulling over a trip to Captiva & Sanibel Island, the Florida Everglades, and possibly, a trip to Universal Studios. All is up in the air, but for right now, we're chilling, sipping vodka cocktails and snacking on pizza.

Weather aside, it's a perfect beginning.

¡Adiós!

Photo Attribution: Forest & Kim Starr

What fresh hell?

The above chat ate up 20 minutes and answered nothing. I took more screen shots, but you get the message. Though Chauncey was quick to answer initially, she (or he), needed much prompting to do so after an initial greeting and appears very tight lipped, so to speak.

Sometime last night, I lost my Verizon cell phone somewhere in Detroit. Another human found that phone and used it at 11:36 PM. They're not using it today though, as the number is shut off and a replacement phone is on its way to my house.

But, oh, the hassle to get even this far with Verizon was excruciatingly painful. I don't know when it happened, but sometime over the past two years, Verizon has gone completely automated. If you want to speak to a human, it must be done over the internet utilizing live chat. While I've done this with a Mac Genius without an issue, my experience with Verizon was awful. Either their chatters are multitasking and therefore inattentive, or they don't give a rat's ass how much time they're costing me. In 40 minutes, Chauncey and I exchanged less than 100 words, with me asking every 5 minutes, "hello? are you still there?" At which point Chauncey would answer, "yes," and only that, apparently having already forgotten the question I originally posed. I would have logged into my online Verizon account to handle all of my problems more readily, but I had forgotten my password. Verizon prompted they could text my password to my phone, but, hellllllllllo??????, my phone is LOST!!!

What I was avoiding was going to the Verizon store on the day of their iphone launch. Can I pick a good day to go? So, after 40 excruciating minutes with Chauncey, I packed up and headed to the Verizon store. I was in and out in 5 minutes, having learned I have replacement insurance. I got home and called the phone insurance company and promptly entered...you guessed it....automation hell.

Again.

I've spent 2 hours trying to order a new phone--two hours I had slated for a manicure.

Tell me, how is this technology supposed to make our lives easier, and in which country do you think Chauncey resides?

Tricky Dick

I've not written about Mimi in a long time. This woman, my mother in law, was one of the kindest people I've ever met in my life, but she was a little whack-a-doo by the time her brain metastasis was diagnosed. Oh, in hindsight, there were signs that something was amiss long before the fateful CT scan that came with bitter news.

Her personality had changed tremendously and at times, she got a little mean. Not mean in an adult sort of way, but in the way of a 4th grade school girl. If she didn't like what somebody was saying, she'd stick her tongue out and make horrible faces behind that person's back. She did this to my colleague's mother at a bake sale, and while I agreed my colleague's mom was being a bossy pain in the ass, it's just not acceptable to mock people, and that's what Mimi was doing. I had to pull her aside more than once, with little effect, to plead with her not to make faces at the adults who were present.

Little did I know it was the cancer talking.

By the time we scheduled the lung biopsy and wedge resection, I knew what was up in her noggin. The day of surgery, the pre-op staff came to get me to calm Mimi down. She had it in her head that the patient waiting for surgery across the aisle from her was Dick Cheney, and Lord, she was giving it to him good. Here was a man she detested and she was not going to miss her opportunity to let him know exactly what she thought of him and his politics.

While I never found out what happened to this man, and I deftly avoided eye contact with his family in the waiting room, I hope he did alright. If he heard what Mimi said that day, I hope he forgave her lunacy.

Me, I'm glad I find humor in those memories. In the thick of things I was mortified, but 5 years down the road, I'm able to find laughter in the things she said and did when she was ill.

And she was right--that man was the spitting image of Dick.

Bemused

Don't think I wasn't worried when I googled the following words: man killed at cockfight. I had no idea what would pop up, but fear not, this link will only take you to the MSNBC story that is ultimately only about karma.

I have no idea how the man was involved in this brutal "sport" but have to think that if you engage in something despicable, you shall reap what you sow. He incurred a laceration in his calf from an armed bird and bled to death.

In the video on MSNBC, the announcer shared that no charges would be filed.

I know. I'm still scratching my head over that one.

Perhaps the authorities thought it was justifiable homicide and let the rooster off easy.

Photo: Superbass 10:09, 24 July 2005 (UTC) Wiki commons

Compare and contrast

I've always loved to comparison shop for the best deals, and I'm thinking perhaps we should have done a little more research before we booked in the Sarasota area, but I won't worry about things too much. We do have a car, and if we feel the need for more warmth than Sarasota has to offer, we can cut straight across the state to an area that has been boasting 80+ temps and sunshine this week.

To make me feel better, I did a different kind of comparison. You tell me which one looks like the best deal possible.

Detroit's future forecast:


Or the Sarasota, Florida forecast?


Yeah...that's what I'm thinking, too.

Hey! Look who learned to take a screen shot with her MacBook!

True Confession

Unless I've bet on a square or two in a Superbowl bet, I don't usually have a vested interest in the game. This year, the game was close, so I kind of enjoyed watching, and I usually like the ads. This year, with the exception of a few, most were lame. The Doritos ad with the creepy cheese sniffer was, well, weird and uncomfortable.

I loved the Snickers commercial with Roseanne, and the Pepsi Max commercials made me laugh out loud.

Did you have a favorite?

Sick and Tired

Well, our one to three inches of erroneously predicted snow turned into seven more inches that fell fast and furiously. It started around 2PM and was all over but the shoveling around 7. Not so bad except we have limited space and are running out of creative places to shovel the collective mess.

I went out around 6 PM to sweep what I thought was just a couple of inches off the porch and steps. When I realized I couldn't push the broom through the snow, I knew we'd gotten more than those filthy liars told us we'd get. I bundled up to tackle the task of shoveling the walk and drive so my husband wouldn't have to after working all day.

I'm already sore, but I'm here writing, so I obviously passed my exercise induced stress test. It took an hour, and required lifting, which they tell you not to do. Push the snow, they say. You know who I'm speaking of--those know it all television reporters. Push it where? If I push it against the mounds we started back in December, it would avalanche back down on the walk I just cleared. What's the point of that? So I lifted. And grunted. And lifted some more.

Sunday's weather predictions are for, you guessed it, more snow. Yep. Sick and tired of it all.

I can't think of the saying, sick and tired, without thinking of Bill Cosby's skit on how tired always follows sick. Back when this was first released, and that was ages ago, I laughed until I cried when he talked about his parents because apparently, our mothers were cut from the same cloth.

In case you missed it, or the snow makes you want to cry, here's a little laugh for today.

Snowtigue

Snowtigue:

1. : the tendency of a human to snap under repeated stress caused by inclement winter weather and the appearance of one snow storm after another.

I figure if those stupid weather people can make up their own weather related words, well then, so can I.




Sigh...

More of the same today. I awakened, made coffee and lounged around in my jammies watching PBS shows that highlight Michigan. I like that on Saturday mornings. I pondered the idea of packing up my wheel to go spin, but decided that included too many steps to get there--you know--like showering, putting on a down coat, slipping on my boots and carrying my wheel through slop. Meh. I stayed home and knit.

I didn't even know snow was in the forecast for today, but as I prepared to go buy some new underwear at Kohls, I noticed it was snowing like mad. Ugh.

Oh sure, it's pretty and magical looking, but I'm over it. Over. It.

Hence the new countdown clock. The flights are booked, the condo rented, the rental car secured, and now the only thing left to do is go find new underwear at Kohls.

Maybe tomorrow.

Sara sent me this so I could see how things seem to be piling up at her house, too.

Every Picture Tells a Story

Last month, we liberated Leo from his crate and allowed him to have the run of the house while we were out. What I didn't know, and what was kept from me by the men folk, is sometimes Leo wasn't being as good as I was being led to believe. He became adept at getting into the trash, helping himself to whatever was around and generally, making a mess that my son and husband cleaned before I made it home. One night, I busted the dog myself, and it came out that he'd been doing this naughty stuff every single night.

Too lazy to fetch the crate, I began to keep everything I thought he might destroy out of his way.

Some things escaped my eye before I left.

Another tape measure (Leo's second sheep measure murder) bites the dust. Sadly, it was my favorite.

A day or so later, it seemed a bull in a china shop was let loose and an unfortunate death was the result. We can't pin this crime on Leo. This decapitation was perpetrated upon the victim by the man of the house who promptly blamed the size of the house for the "accident." Yes...that was a Lladro figurine. Now she's just broken porcelain.

Though the shining sun casts pretty shadows, don't be fooled as the storm left bitter cold in its wake. It's freaking freezing cold. As I write this at noon, it's only 18 degrees (F) out there.

As my mother used to say when I left the house for school, "don't eat the yellow snow."
She was wise. Who knows what I would have done if not for her words of warning?

It took all week, but I've finally made some progress on Cloud Chaser. The back is done and I'm knitting the right side. Love, love, love this pattern (and the yarn).

I'm knitting the vest with these tools.

I was minding my own beeswax at the yarn store--really just there to purchase yarn for a baby blankie--when the clerk happened to mention I'd earned a coupon worth 20% off any purchase. Really? Anything? Next thing I knew, the Addi Lace Clicks jumped into my bag.

What's not to love about brand new pointy sticks?

And this is for you. It's the least I could do for putting the song in your heads:

Have a great weekend!

Chicken Little

For my friend in Perth...this is why I knit mostly with wool. And by the way, your quilt kept me very cozy last night. Thank you, again.

The heavens opened up at exactly 7:05 PM in my town last night. I know this because I was just getting home from the hospital and took note of the time. It snowed, the wind whistled, whipped snow sideways and I even heard thunder some time last night. I thought someone was upstairs moving furniture around, but of course, it was too late to be rearranging anything.

When the storm finally died down, I awakened to find a fresh blanket of snow, and while around seven inches isn't anything to sneeze at, it wasn't the 'Doozie' that had been prognosticated. We had a typical Michigan snow event that came without the ice. I'll consider myself blessed compared to other areas of the country.

Still, even with an average snowfall, 15 of my colleagues called in sick today.

This is what my colleagues are probably really doing today.

One of these people said to me last month, "I don't ever have enough time accumulated to take two weeks off like you're doing in February." Really? I wonder why. Since we have combined time off, if you call in sick, the scheduled amount of hours are automatically deducted from your bank of time. This tends to put a ding in the time banks of people who call off at least every first Monday and Tuesday of the month--as though they have no pattern. Since these folks can't seem to do the math, I wonder how their bank accounts look. Ah well, not my problem. It may be my problem come 4 PM, but it won't be my problem in 10 days when my plane takes off for sunnier climes.

Note my sundial. Do you see a shadow? For the life of me, I don't.

Speaking of sun, and shadows, how is it the Michigan groundhog saw her shadow? It's not possible. Punxsutawney Phil didn't see one though and today, he's the only groundhog that counts. It will be an early spring. Hopefully someone is making groundhog stew out of the Michigan rodent.

How did you fare in the storm of the ages?