Sweatin' to The Oldies

Six days ago I blogged about how we were having ten below zero wind chill factors, four (count 'em, four) inches of snow and were really, really cold.

Today it is in the low seventies.

No, I haven't moved. I'm in the very same house I was in six days ago.

But Mother Nature is apparently in menopause.

Everyone has always wondered when the world would end. 

Well, I guess this means we're a little bit better than half way through.

If Mother Nature lives to be an old woman, that is.

I guess we'll just to wait and see.

Brotherly Love

I just got back from visiting Brother of Many Surgeries. (This is his Indian  name now.)

He looks like a one track railroad from stern to down below where he wouldn't let me see. Let's just say they cut him as fer as they could cut.

The staples are starting to pull at his skin, the drain holes are pulling at his skin. He is very uncomfortable.

Plus he is having wild body temperature changes, one minute burning up, the next freezing.

Do you suppose they took so much out this time he is in  menopause? 

Nah.

I am being silly because I am tired of being afraid.

Afraid that this time, he might not make it.

But he did, and I hope fervently it is the last surgery he ever has to have. I hope he can live many years and be healthy, finally.

I am so confident I made a batch of spaghetti and took it to them for supper.

If my cookin' don't kill him, nothin' will.