Friday, January 30, 2015

Deja Vu

We had to take Eli to the vet today. He was long overdue his rabies shot.

Normally, this is far more traumatic for him than me, but today, not so.

I was feeling a little PTSDie over the death of Lily, just a few days ago, right at this vet's office.

I've already sniffed over the loss of my petting buddy in the mornings, an empty basket where she slept and the biggest of all, being able to put the water bowl in the floor instead of the bathtub.

You see, Lily, being a Maine Coon, liked water. And sometimes, when she was drinking, she'd get a little carried away. She'd start off by scooping up water and drinking out of her paw, but then she'd splash a little and that would turn into a frenzied splashing session.

Whoever heard her would fly into the bathroom and yell, "Lily!" She'd stand there, water dripping off her ears, nose, whiskers, chest, legs and feet, and give you that death stare that said, "WHAT?" And of course, the floor was a lake.

So, we kept the water bowl in the tub, so when the mood struck her, she could go at it.

Eli hates the vet, but doesn't pitch a fit. He is silent, but uses all twenty pounds to fight against whatever is happening, as he is trying to get back in his carrier.

Twenty pounds doesn't sound like much. But you try keeping that pure muscle and determination on a slick table. Whew!

Of course, today, we brought back a strong, healthy, young cat who is in his last  year of growth.

The other day we brought home an empty carrier and a burial box with Lily's remains.

Thankfully, not every day is sad. Today was a good day, for which I am grateful. 

Aren't you?

Thursday, January 29, 2015

Give Me A Mule Any Day

Daughter totaled her car a few months back, so we have been somewhat disadvantaged in the car department as of late.

Today, she asked to borrow what we call "my" car. I said yes.

Husband went to town and our old 1985 Mercedes ran hot, and I don't mean it looked good on the road.

Although it does.

Mr. Garage says it sounds like the thermostat, making an over-the-phone diagnosis.

So, Husband goes to crank (that's old South for start) our truck.  I lovingly call this the dump truck because Husband refuses to be smart and go to the dump on a weekly basis, waiting until the truck bed is full of garbage, which it is as we speak.

It won't start.

That makes zero cars at our house that will run, and with the way my health has been lately, it ain't a real smart thing.

So, I call up Daughter and say after you have dinner at Present Boyfriend's Mama's house, come home immediately.

She wasn't happy.

Well, neither am I, it just so happens it's for two different reasons.

It will be "several" days before Mr. Garage can get to the Mercedes.

Husband hopes maybe he flooded the truck and it will start tomorrow.

Daughter will come home unhappy, but she'll come home.

Lord, I hope that girl drives carefully.

Wednesday, January 28, 2015

And Then There Were Three

Candlecrest Lily White was born on February 25, 2001.

She died today, January 28, 2015; our 30th wedding anniversary.

She was our elderly, white Maine Coon cat that we adopted from a cattery when she was nine years old.

She was a queen, delivering who knows how many kittens in her lifetime. But at age nine; she was no longer viable, so we took her home to live with us. She then became a Queen.

She was not a pet, although she liked to be petted on her terms.

But as time went by, she became more trusting, especially of me.

Two  months ago, she decided it was safe to get  in my lap, and so a ritual began. As soon as I sat down on the couch with my morning coffee; she was there. If I was running a little late, she used her "wookie" noise to call me. 

She was a loner; the other cats avoided her. She had a medical condition; perhaps that was why. We called her "Darth Vader" because of her breathing. As her condition worsened, she had a harder time grooming. We finally had to have some of her teeth removed because of the inflammation of her gums, but she loved wet cat food and recovered well.

About three weeks ago, she quit eating it - it was as though she couldn't eat, not because she didn't want it. We gave her soup broth and mashed potatoes (that girl loved her some mashed potatoes, begged for them at the table if we were having them with a meal). I finally  hit on the idea of baby food, and she loved it. Up until yesterday, she was consuming three or four jars of turkey, chicken or beef in gravy. 

I could tell she was still losing weight, and I had scheduled an appointment for her for Friday to see the vet.

But yesterday afternoon, she suddenly looked worse. She looked more unkempt than usual and her eye looked wonky, too. And she couldn't eat her supper. She tried, and it even looked like she was eating, but when she moved away from the plate, the food was still there.

I fed her this morning, same thing. So, as soon as coffee and lap petting time was over; I called the vet and we took her.

I petted her, sang to her, and talked to her as we waited, because, in my heart, I knew. She would butt my belly if I stopped petting, so I was pretty busy.

The vet felt a hard knot on her jaw. She was able, barely, to shed a light in Lily's mouth to see the damage. I saw it, too. 

Lily could barely open her mouth. Because there was a huge tumor from her lower jaw bone, and it had grown so  much, there was no room. Not even for baby food.

You know the rest of the story. And I surely am not able to tell it here, not now.

Husband is down in the wooded area behind our house, digging another fresh grave. She will join Angel, a former white haired beauty of a cat, Sam and Buster, our Boxers, Belle, our Bull Mastiff, Aussie, our Cockatiel, Perri our parakeet, and Molly, our American Bulldog. 

Grief is a terrible thing, but what would we do without it?

I don't know your belief on animals in Heaven, but I know mine. And I know where Lily is right now. 

I want to see my Christ first, then my loved ones who have gone on before me.

And then, I want to see my pets....
Good-bye, sweet girl! See you later, 
Love, 
Your  human mama

Friday, January 23, 2015

Brand New Stuff

They say we are never too old to do new things.

I'd like to kick "they" in the butt.

Oh, in the past week, I've done several new things.

I had an anaphylactic reaction to something Saturday. Maybe turmeric, a widely used spice, at least that's the best bet until I can see an allergist.

I rode in an ambulance for the first time.

I had Benadryl IV and by injection for the first time.

My blood pressure was 158/125 for the first time.

You get the picture.

I've also had an appointment with a G.I. for the first time.

I'm afraid to eat for the first time, and boy is that saying a lot.

There are probably other firsts, but I've been pretty busy with what I've mentioned.

I haven't had the opportunity to get book signings scheduled or interviews either. My brand new book is just waiting patiently in boxes.

Here's to hoping next week is a whole new ballgame - one in which I'm on the winning team.

Friday, January 16, 2015

Christmas Present

Other Brother called about two weeks before Christmas and wanted to know if I, along with Brother of Many Surgeries, would be willing to go in together and buy Mother a Kindle for Christmas. One of his twenty-something co-workers suggested that when Other Brother was whining about what to get Mother, who needs absolutely nothing.

Even though I saw my life pass before my eyes, I said yes. You see, I cannot recall many presents Mother has received in my lifetime that was met with approval.

I knew this would be a perfect gift: her vision is poor due to age and Macular Degeneration (although, thank God that has remained stable for years).  The Kindle is back lit and you can enlarge the font for easier reading.

She was gracious about it on Christmas Day, but she didn't fool me none. No sirree bob.

I took it back home with me to download some books I thought she'd like, adjust the font, etc. Because really, never having one myself, I didn't know much about them either. (Side note, I got one for Christmas too!)

With dread, I took the loaded Kindle back to Mother. I explained she didn't need to know but a couple of things. Before I could even finish the sentence, she started a run on. "I can't remember what  you say, I'll never be able to do this, I can't read anymore anyway, my mind won't stay focused, you all have wasted your money, blah blah blah..."

I glazed over. When she finished ranting, I made her push the button to turn it on. I had already adjusted the back light to the brightest setting, so I didn't mention it. I showed her a couple of font sizes and had her chose the one she liked best.

I picked a book, opened it, showed it to her. Then I had her turn the Kindle off. Then turn it back on. I explained that's all she had to do, when she turned it back on, the book would be wherever she had left it, and she could resume reading.

She informed me she could never remember all that.

I do believe real steam came outta my ears.

"All you remember is one thing. You push the button for on and the same button for off."

"I can't even remember what I just read."

I blinked. "What did you just read?"

"Something about Carol talking to her daddy because her sister had told on her."

Sheesh.  The thing was only on, like, ten seconds.

It's too bad she can't read anymore.

I vowed to never, EVER mention the word Kindle in front of her again.

A few days later she called and said she couldn't turn it off. After much discussion, I realized she had left it on without turning a page and it had gone to "sleep". Instead of trying to explain it to her over the phone, I went to her house and showed her what had happened.

She began a run on sentence. See paragraph #6.

She told me the other day she just had not had time to read much, but I charged up the Kindle anyway, as it had been used a little.

Will she succumb to the ease and joy of reading on this thing that will make it easy-peasy?

Film at eleven.

That way you won't have to read about it.

Thursday, January 15, 2015

Blech

Being sick has become my career.

Hearing from so many others, it seems to be the national pass time lately.

Since July I have struggled. First, I hurt my back in a new! and improved! way.

Then Mother became gravely ill.

My back pain lingered, leaving me in the bed two or three days at a time, including Thanksgiving.

About two weeks before Christmas I got a sinus infection I thought I had whipped, but it turns out it whipped me. Drained into my lungs so that my beautiful lungs became infected.

So, of course, the very strong antibiotics left me with no bacteria.

I have developed what the doctor thinks (test results soon) is colitis caused by the antibiotics.

Isn't that nice?

And what cures it?

Why, an antibiotic, of course.

I am struggling to remain upright as  much as possible, and I don't mean upright in the bathroom. That's no problem.

Maybe after this medication kicks in, I can write about something else.

I have a few funny things stored up, really I do.

But I ain't feeling too funny right now.

Tuesday, January 13, 2015

A History Lesson....Sorta

When Husband and I were still newlyweds, and by that I mean within the first two years of our marriage; we rented a little house in town while we saved up money for land on which to build, and buy furniture like crazy people for the new house.

Nephew was but a lad of three years when this particular history lesson begins.

Husband was involved in a 'don't do drugs' education program for primary students, and he rotated turns wearing CHUG. It's been many years, and I don't remember what C.H.U.G. stood for, I'm sure it was well thought out acronym and paid for with big bucks by the state.

Chug, the animal costume, was part frog and part some-other-amphibian. It was in two pieces, the head and the zip-up-the-back body (with feet!). When Husband put on the costume, he stood well over six feet.

We, not being parents yet, thought Nephew would love Chug.

May I take a moment to say: Oops.

Anyway, Husband made some lame excuse about having to go outside for a few minutes while Nephew visited, and then in a moment or so, knocked on the front door as Chug.

I greeted Chug warmly, with surprise and delight. Nephew, who was small for his age anyway, gaped open mouthed, and hid behind me.

I tried to engage the two. Chug was charming. Nephew was not convinced. He finally did speak to Chug, however. He picked up our car keys and tried to get Chug to take them, saying (in his tiny little voice) "Here, Chug, take David's car."

Chug left, somewhat dejected. Husband returned shortly, and I delightedly told him of Chug's visit and Husband returned as how sorry he was he missed it.

Nephew looked at us like we were crazy, obviously thinking he had barely escaped with his life.

So, anyway, late that night, when Husband and I were alone with our honeymoon selves in our old, cold house, we talked about it and vowed we'd make it up to Nephew, somehow.

Then Husband went to get ready for bed, as I had already had my turn. I dressed warmly in my flannel nightgown (honeymoon phase or not, the house was dang cold) and settled in to read the newspaper.

But then, I was overcome. I couldn't resist it. I couldn't help myself.

I gave Husband the biggest fright of his life. He came strolling in, took one glance, screamed like a girl, jumped a foot and then got the camera.

I was a looker, all right. Observe the maincure.

Imagine what I'm willing to do now that the honeymoon is over.

Saturday, January 10, 2015

Take it away!

It's time.

Hopefully next weekend I will be fully recuperated and all the Christmas decorations will be dispersed and vanquished.

Suddenly, I'm tired of 'em.

If our tree was a living tree, it would be droopy for sure. We didn't put it up until the 14th, which is more than 2 weeks late for us. But, still, it would be droopy.

I guess, it going up late and all, is why I haven't tired of the stuff until now. Quite suddenly, I want it gone.

We did a lot less decorating this year, due to everybody being sick, so there is a lot less to put away.

Any volunteers?

Thursday, January 8, 2015

Predictable Blog

You had to know I was going to blog about the temperature.

I'd be a fool  not to.  After all, we southerners are proud when we get really, really low or really, really high temperatures. Or snow. We really brag when we get snow.

It was 2 degrees on my back porch this morning. It did get up in the mid-twenties at some point, but I can almost feel the thermometer dropping already. It is predicted to be a 4 tonight.

More bragging rights.

We put an extra quilt on each bed last night. Our good cover keeps us warm till it gets below twenty, then we have to add on that extra quilt. It was really a three cat night at our house, but we only got one, because of the new dog.

Eli, who is the alpha cat, is furious about the dog.  Lilly ignores the dog, Mimi and Frost are adapting pretty well, but Eli is slower.

When Bonnie, the dog, is not in her crate, Eli marches in it and rolls and rubs and bathes and stomps, making sure Bonnie knows he's been in there. He is Alpha, hear him mew.

Anyway, Eli isn't sleeping with me much; he's too keyed up because the dog is in the crate on Husband's side. Mimi sleeps in our bed some, but mostly she, too, is still in Daughter's room. Lilly always sleeps in her wicker basket. That leaves Frost, who gets in between Husband and me and stretches out as long as he can.

Last night to church I wore leggings, wool socks, a long john top under my sweatshirt, and my heavy jeans that are lined with flannel. I bet I weighed 8 pounds more than usual. But even with my heavy coat and hood, by the time we got to the car after church, the wind felt like it was cutting right through all them thar layers.

So, this morning 2 degrees, tomorrow 4 or less. Wow.

Yankee cousin told me it was -9 at her house this morning, plus her husband has the flu.

Braggart.

Wednesday, January 7, 2015

Wasted good advice

Let me say upfront and unequivocally, I, without a shadow of a doubt, HATE self-flushing toilets.

No matter how much you are like a stealth jet pilot, slowing standing up, it flushes.

You don't stand a chance. You can't escape it. And some of them flush so big they splatter your bareness because you simply can't move fast enough what with your Levi's around your ankles and all.

And if you ain't fast enough, that sucker will flush again before you can get the heck out of Dodge.

The best practical advise I have ever given Daughter was to always be standing up, pulled up, buttoned up, zipped up and belted up before you flush down in a public restaurant.

That's because, whether you've ever had this happen, public toilets are prone to overflow.

And if it hasn't happened to you yet, it will. It will.

And just how fast do you think you can get away from an overflowing toilet that is pouring out it's contents in a rapid fashion, if your Levi's are still you know where?

Good, solid, practical advise.  Free to all who would have listened.

Wasted.

So join me in a toast to start a rebel stance against this horrible change in our society.

Let us hereby vow to never use another self flushing toilet as long as we all shall live!

Bottoms up!

Monday, January 5, 2015

I am almost afraid to say it...

I am almost afraid to say it...

But I think we are all well. I take my last antibiotic at supper tonight.

I only have 2 coughing fits a day. This is a vast improvement, and hopefully my ribs will heal before spring.

My nose is useful again, as air can come in it and out it.

What a wonderful feeling!

I went to church yesterday. It was nice to be back, felt like going home.

And speaking of home, ours is a wreck. Oh. my. word.

Daughter says she will vacuum this afternoon. I have cleaned up the kitchen and washed two loads of laundry.

Maybe it will look somewhat normal before spring, too.

To top it off, the sun is actually shining today, even if it is nippy outside.

Well, that's all the news for today.

Perhaps soon, and very soon, I will let you in on the adventures of getting my 85 year old mother a Kindle for Christmas.

As soon as my nerves settle enough.