Under the sink

I don't know why he looked under the sink.  It is one of the mysteries of life, but he looked, and now we know.  We know about the leak, so now it must be fixed. 

Something looked wet, so he moved things out of the way and then he moved more things out of the way, and then he yanked up all the insulation foam that he sprayed around the pipes when he remodeled the kitchen, and there was a wet hose.

So I handed him paper towels, and he dried off the hose, and then he twisted a handle that I'm assuming should have turned off the water to that hose.  But it didn't do that.  No, it didn't do that.  I'm not totally sure what happened, and I'm not going to ask, but he said "Motherfucker!" and I could hear water spraying.

I couldn't SEE the water spraying, for which I am grateful, but there was water spraying under the cabinet and he had to go outside and turn off the water.

That made my next words somewhat anticlimactic, "Supper is ready", I say, almost apologetically.  I mean, I've been simmering beans for hours and I made some buttermilk cornbread and fried potatoes, but somehow the leak under the house makes that less awesome than it could have been in a leak-less kitchen.

But he ate, after saying there was no way he could fix this tonight.  So he ate.  And he sat down for probably all of two minutes.  Then he went outside with a shovel.  It's dark and chilly out there, but he doesn't wait when something is wrong.  It's not in his genes.

So he dug a hole, presumably; (I haven't gone outside to look, I'm just guessing what is going on my the sounds and my context clues).  He came back in the house and said "It's been leaking a while, by the looks of it." And he went back out.  Then he came back in with very muddy hands.  And he didn't say anything.

Nerve-ous ranting

Holy motherfucking fucking fuck this hurts.  I'm trying really hard not to be a whiny complainer; nobody wants to hear this stuff.  I'm even tired of hearing about it.  But DAMN, it just doesn't stop.  The surgery and the time in the hospital is mostly a blur; things didn't go awfully well for me.  I guess the surgery took about eight hours, and then the Doctor couldn't get the bleeding to stop; they had to give me blood three times.  Then I couldn't move my left leg for long enough that they were on their way with me to MRI and go back into surgery, but I started moving it, so that was good.

They left me in ICU an extra day, and then I got up and moved around a couple of times, and then I developed a pulmonary embolism and had to stay in bed for two more days without walking.  By the way, that's one of my worst fears, the pulmonary embolism.  That is what killed my Grandmother; she went into surgery to have her gallbladder out, got clots and died.  So I've always had this fear when I go into surgery.  Now it happened, but it was okay.  But I'm going to be uber terrified if I ever have to have surgery again.  And now I have to take blood thinners.

Anyway, hospital for way longer than planned, a brief stop at a nursing home which was HORRIBLE!  ugh.  But then home, and the pain.  The incision and the numb places and the muscles that got shoved around; my bones are in different places and it was hard to walk and it made everything hurt.  Hips hurt, knees hurt, ankles hurt...but that didn't really take that long to get bearable.  I mean, that was all basically what I expected and I had pain pills and I slept as much as possible and Cory and Steph took wonderful care of me.

But now the nerves in my left foot are regenerating.  I think I'd be okay with a numb left foot instead of doing this.  I am having a hard time handling this.  The pills I have don't touch nerve pain; the Doctor gave me another pill that helps some, but it's one of those epilepsy/anti-seizure meds and it makes me dizzy and weak.  And it only helps a little.  Of course, it has to build up in my body; it's not a pain pill that works right away.  But it should be built up now and it still only helps some.  I can't sleep.  The pain is worse when I lay down, and it gets worse when I'm tired, so it's this vicious circle jerk that may never stop.  I suppose at some point I'll get so exhausted I'll sleep.  right?  (btw, it is currently 4:20 a.m....I've been awake for two hours after sleeping for about four hours)

I just took a pain pill and a muscle relaxer hoping it will knock me out; and also my ankles are killing from all the floor pacing I've been doing. 


(days later....)  I was typing the lovely rant above, and I hit a button on my computer and lost it, couldn't find it.  Started typing it again, lost it...decided it wasn't meant to be and gave it up.  But then later I figured it was saved as a draft and sure enough, there it was.  Anyway....I'm better now.  Still having some pain in my foot, but it isn't unbearable.  The dr gave me a steroid pack that lasts a week that 'should help with the inflammation around the nerves' and I think it is helping.  I know after the first day of steroids I got out of bed and showered AND did my hair AND put on real clothes and make-up and went for a walk around the park.  So they are doing something.

The foot hurts if I move it wrong or wear a shoe, I'm keeping it wrapped with an ace bandage and it isn't too too bad, but I am ready for it to be over.  But apparently this can take weeks.  Or months.  (the horror!)

I'm just going to believe that it will be weeks; two down and hopefully not many more to go.  :)

So disregard all the ugly words at the beginning of this post; I survived and it's getting better all the time.  So yay.  right?

In 21 days I have back surgery.  BACK to surgery,  ha ha ha   I'm trying not to think to much about the actual surgery part; the whole anesthesia - puking - feeling groggy and stupid for days - incision pain and stitches and laying in a hospital bed and having no privacy and no dignity and all that stuff.  Trying to just let that go; it will be what it is and it's just something to get through.  My actual worry is that this surgery doesn't fix me. I've lived with this stupid back problem for eight or twenty years (depending on which particular problem you are referring to) with the thought in my head that if it ever gets too bad, I'll suffer through surgery again but "not until I have to".  Well, I'm there, and I have to.  But what if it doesn't fix everything?  then I'm just stuck in this hell with no light at the end of the tunnel.

This is a little like spending your last dollar on a lottery ticket.

wow I don't know whatI just did, but my screen disappeared into this tiny tiny little column.  I couldn't read this crap with a telescope!!!


Oh, apparently something like cntl+o is zoom, and I zoomed down to 10%.  ha ha ha  that was an entertaining few seconds.

Anyway, yeah; spending my last dollar on a lottery ticket.  21 days.

Vacation dreams

So many places to go, so many things to see, and so hard to find time and money...but we bought a new camper and have all kinds of ideas and intentions to take trips and see things and be places....

So I need to put some of the ideas together so we can make a plan.  right?

First trip after the camper gets here is for my birthday and we're going to Cloudcroft.  That's going to be awesome.  I've never been there, and I'm excited.  We can also go through Alamogordo and see the space museum and stuff, so lots of fun there.

But then, later...I want to go to Salado Texas.  There is the Stagecoach Inn there.  it is the oldest continually operating hotel in Texas.  To make that just a little bit cooler, the hotel was originally built by Thomas Jefferson Eubanks, who is my 4th great grandfather.  (Paulk line)  So I really want to see that.

And also, there's this house in Denison Texas; it is a Historic Museum because Dwight D Eisenhower was born there.  And I like Ike.  But also, that house was originally built by someone in my family.  I can't remember who right now, and I apparently don't have it notated on ancestry.com.  I know it's in my scrapbook, but my scrapbook is all the way over there on the shelf.  So far.  I mean, sure I can see it from here, and sure it's probably like an actual ten steps away, but I'm sitting down and I'm pretty comfy, so I'll figure out who built the house later.  But I want to go there.  (to Denison, not the bookshelf)

And to Flower Mound, Texas, where another ancestor started the Methodist Church.  And to Sulphur Springs where people who are my family did everything.  Everything!  Created the county, built the first buildings, shot the buffalo.  I need to see it all.  Maybe I could find out something about that mysterious great-grandmother of mine.

And then maybe someday we could get really adventurous and go to Louisiana (where my family built churches) and Tennessee (where my family built churches) and Massachusetts (where my family accused the neighbors of being witches).  And there is also Cory's family history strung all across the country too. 

And I want to follow Route 66, and go to all kinds of old forts and see every antique store in the world.  Well, maybe not every one in the world....but maybe 62% of the ones in 27% of the United States within a 836 minute drive of my house.  Or something. Some antique stores/junk stores. 

And Wyoming where the deers are, and Uncle Joe.  We have to go there for sure. 

Cory says we need to get a journal to keep in the camper to keep track of our travels.  isn't that a cool idea?  I love it!!!  gonna do it.

gotta go now.  Bye.

the story of a girl and her quilt

So my son's girlfriend messaged me on facebook one day and told me that there was this quilt she found in a catalog, and she'd been thinking about buying it for a while.  She showed the picture to two of my sons, and they both said "don't buy that!!  Mom can make that for you!"

That is SO sweet, that they brag about me that way, and I love that the girlfriend would prefer to have one handmade by me....and of course I said I would make it for her.

But it's a complicated pattern, and speaking of patterns, I don't have one.  So I have a picture to look at, and a brain to use.  I can do that.  I made a spreadsheet, cause you know, that's what I do.  So I determined the size of the finished quilt, counted the number of blocks across the quilt, made up a measurement for the borders, put a formula in the spreadsheet to see what size the blocks needed to be....and it might fit the bed when I'm finished.  Of course, there is also the small chance that the quilt will be of a size to slipcover New Jersey, but I don't think so.  *worries a little*

So I'm thinking I will keep up with my progress here.  I'm always thinking, after I finish a blanket, that I should have taken pictures of all the steps, but I never do.  So this time, I'm going to do that.  Not tonight, tonight I'm just going to write about taking pictures of the fabric that I will cut and sew and turn into a quilt...but I will take pictures and keep up with my progress, and possibly share this whole story with my kids and girlfriends when I am finished.

And just to state the facts clearly, as I did to Cory at the fabric cutting table at Hobby Lobby, "yes I know I'm insane.  I don't care." I BELIEVE I can do it.  I think. :)

That's all

My sciatic nerve is not my friend.

That is all.

Saving the post office

Yes, yes I am going to save the post office from bankruptcy…apparently.  It’s all because my daughter fell in love with a British guy.  He better be glad that I like him, cause otherwise I would make his life miserable for taking my daughter to England.

Now, in all honesty, I have to say that I am thrilled that she is getting the opportunity to live in England and travel and see things that I always wanted to see.  I’m also glad that I will probably get to go to England and visit; that will be awesome if it happens.  But in the meantime, I may go broke trying to mail things.  J

I mailed a package last week, she had a Christmas gift shipped here and I needed to forward it, so that was seventy something bucks.  Then today, I send her ‘momma loves you’ package.

 

I have been informed that there are no good pickles in England.  They make all of the pickles sweet.  Well, some people don’t like sweet pickles…some people like hot pickles and sour pickles.  Like my daughter. So I bought some pickles on line to mail her ( and I look back at my past self with an indulgent smile...poor little naïve fool).  And also, she hasn’t been able to find good cheese.  She says they have cheese, but it’s like CHEDDAR…on STEROIDS…that’s been stored in a SOCK.

And even though my son-in-law was in the background making various loud noises,  shocked faces, and hand gestures that all communicated (very clearly) that he thinks European cheese is superior in every way to American cheese, the fact is my  baby girl wants some American cheese.  And some hot pickles. And she wouldn’t really mind having some good tea.  Oh, that one almost caused a stroke; he has such attitude about tea. rofl

My favorite son-in-law story of all time follows:

We are in a restaurant having dinner.  My tea tasted a little old, but I wasn’t sure if it was the tea or if it was me.  So I say “Taste this.  Does this taste funny?” 

He says “All of your tea tastes funny.  I’ve tried so many kinds of tea, but none of them taste right.  I don’t know what lipton is, but they put it in all of the tea, and it just doesn’t taste good!”

I look, in shock, at my daughter, who shrugs (with an evil smile) and says “I just didn’t have the heart to tell him”.

So I struggled to maintain my composure and not bust out laughing, failed miserably, and said ‘’Honey, Lipton isn’t an ingredient, it’s the brand name.”

He says “oh.  Well, it doesn’t taste good”.  Ha ha ha  Good times.

 So, being the loving mother that I am, I got a box and filled it up with American cheese, and string cheese, and hot pickles, and tea bags.  And then I spent $70.00 mailing it.

$70.00 ……… for PICKLES!!

And that wasn’t even all the pickles I bought!  It was just the ones I could fit in the medium size box.  If I had mailed the whole box of pickles, it would have cost $99 and some change to mail it.  So that’s $43.00 for two cases of pickles, and let’s just call it $100 to mail them…*mumbles to self while staring at the ceiling*…43 and 100 is 143 divided by 48 is (mumble mumble)…pretty damn close to $3.00 per pickle.  And you know, some cheese and a couple of tea bags.  Unbelievable!

But that’s what love will do to you. 

Step two in my plan to save the post office:

Bring back writing letters.  Do your part!!!  Maybe send some “it’s not Christmas” cards.  Think how much fun it would be if everyone did it, and you started getting mail that was fun!!  You go to the mailbox, and there’s an envelope that isn’t a bill, or a piece of trash…it’s a note or a card from someone you love!  It will make you smile, and it help save the post office.  I’m pretty sure Ben Franklin would come visit you in your dreams if you helped me save the post office! And hey, maybe someday you’ll get a box full of pickles.  :/