Whew . . .

I just got out of the CVCU last Friday, late.  I was there for observation and testing after not doing well with a chemical stress test.  I found out that I was being released when I came back from the rest room.  J told me I should get dressed and that he thought I had been there long enough.  Everyone laughed at my "Huh" face and we got outa there but in due hospital time. 

The most fun was taking off the oxygen monitor from my right forefinger.  If you ever have to wear one, put it on your non-dominant hand as it has about ten inches of wiring and a plug that dangle from it when it is disconnected from the large machines.

I had many, many little connector-patches stuck on to my chest, shoulders and abdomen.  Everybody who needed to use a set of sticky connectors seemed to require a different kind and left the other ones stuck on just in case they could be useful.  There is a stubborn rectangle of adhesive near my waist that is slowly yielding to shower gel, body lotion and just plain oil.  Whatever was used to adhere that one could probably have been used by NASA to stick heat proof tiles on the space shuttles.

The cats seemed glad to see me and I was more than happy to see their furry faces.

Recommended ...

Rarely do I cry over a blog post.  

I follow Beyond the Sidewalks which is written by a woman who has a wonderful "voice," lovely animals, and who posts nearly every day.  There once was a brief, and understandable, hiatus which was due to an accident in the family.  

She has a farm with goats.  Several of the females, all of which have cute names. came to kid at nearly the same day.  One of them had a difficult time which neither the mom nor the twins survived.  Thus the tears.  Poor little things.

Depends on the Viewpoint . . .

We rose at six this morning, BigEd and I.  He had a 9:15 appointment for a checkup and I went along.  We wanted to be there early so as to sign in first thing.  We signed in at 8 something and they called us in at 9:15.  I really can't figure out if it was worth it to get up so early, or not.

When the doc came in, he took one look at my face and almost shouted, "What happened?"

This was the first time I had used concealer and makeup over the remainder of the shiner and cheek.  I thought I had done a fair job.  Guess I will just stick to wearing sunglasses.

After I explained what had happened, he apologized for making me embarrassed.  It doesn't bother me at all, I told him.  I can't see it.  It is other people who are bothered. 

Whereshego? Whereshego?

We are going to a barbeque at Zeta's and M's.  Mothers' Day is on Sat and Sun, this week.  Something like having a birthday last a week of celebrations.  

Yesterday, Snax and Miu were investigating an empty box that was tiped onto its side.  She sniffed, rubbed and moseyed away.  He came flying around the box to pounce on her and she was gone. Foolish cat decided she could be lurking anywhere and took off to the hallway only to encounter her.  He skidded to a stop, edged around her and hightailed it for his room.  It was indeed comical but it told me something sad.  

He will never be a hunter . . . 

No One Important . . .

No one of any importance blogs on Sunday.  Just go look.  Today is Sunday.  Here I am.

What does that tell you?

Nice, clean sandbox . . .

I never go to the grocery store or anywhere else on  the weekend if I can avoid it.  I prefer the less crowded center of the week. But today BigEd announced, on his way out the door to work, that someone would have to get some cat sand soon .

This was his way of announcing that we were totally out of the stuff.  Dire situations require desperate remedies.  Some remedies are easier than expected.  There were about three shoppers (I exaggerate but not by much) plus errant employees wandering the aisles while trying to looking busy.

Four huge bags of kitty litter later, Snax and Miu are secure.  You would think one of them would teach itself to use the bathroom like our first cat did.  I know you can get kits to help teach them but Miu is 14 and a half  years old.  (J corrected me when I called her a 12 year old.)

She is quite capable of falling in.  In my time, I have fished toys, hairbrushes, clippers and towels from the toilet bowl, usually after a panicked shout of "Mom!"   

I draw the line at going in for a geriatric cat. 

You are getting sleepy . . .

J can sit in a chair and fall sound asleep.  I can't do that because, for me, falling asleep requires a horizontal personal orientation.  That is the true definition of a nap.  Ask the cats.  Neither of them will fall asleep sitting upright.

Miu has been asleep on top of the cats' condo and had her head slowly slide until it is hanging straight down off the edge.  I can't do that either.  

I require a bed and a pillow.  I am so untalented . . .

If only . . .

There is a guilty secret that is becoming tiresome.  I started watching Splash out of curiosity.  A couple of episodes in, the DVR began recording them and I began not watching.  Today, I decided to catch up and realized that if I had not recorded them so that it was easy to fast forward, Splash would have fallen by the wayside.

The two rotund commedians are long gone.  And how many times can Kareem bend in the middle as he dives with his spaghetti legs?  I am close to saying forget it.  But it is also close to the finish.  They refer to it as the finale but that is a term that is too grandiose for such a splash.

I will finish watching, I suppose, but with my finger ever-near to the fast forward. 

Sometimes, I wish I could do the same thing with life . . .

Too bad for them . . .

My sunglasses almost cover the eye-rainbow which is trying to spread down my cheek.  It is already up toward the temple a bit.  I didn't know they spread as they healed.  Or perhaps it is just deeper bruising coming to the surface.  My family would probably prefer that I wear the dark glasses all the time, at home. 

Ah, well.  There are some accommodations I just won't make . . .

My name is not Grace . . .

I was in the dining room and putting away the vacuum.  I caught my foot in a loop of cord, I presume, because my right foot would not join the left one, my shoe came off, and I face-planted my right cheek and forehead on the kitchen floor. 

I don't need to use a flashlight because I have the most perfect example of a shiner you ever saw.  Nothing broken except my sense of pride in my ability to walk.  I put on sunglasses and look normal, take them off and look like an alien.  

No paparazzi need apply . . .

Trading games of choice . . .

It is a known thing that J and I like to do crosswords.  Most days, we print the one in our local paper so we each have an enlarged copy. There is no competition between us or not much anyway.

J's brother, who lives in Tennessee, does Sudoku.  We send him copies of our local Sudoku and he sends us crosswords from his local paper.  He cuts them out. He marks them Monday thru Friday and is careful to include answers from the Saturday crosswords from the Los Angeles Times and the New York Times.  All this is by snail mail - which tells you something.

I have gone further afield, for him, than our local Sudoku.  There is a site that rates its Sudoku as Evil, Egregious, Excruciating, Extreme, and Excessive. This is the increasing order of difficulty.  Today, I discovered that I can print the answers to these bad boys on the reverse side of the page.

So I did. It makes me feel like the Answer Angel.

Schedule changes . . .

We stayed up until 2 a.m. in order to say goodbye to BigEd as he left for Orlando, with friends.  He came back inside twice to gather up items he needed and almost left without.  This, after making lists on computer and iPhone which were consulted faithfully.

We went to bed after he left, leaving Miu to put herself to bed when she felt like it and leaving Snax in his room.  He is not familiar with the inflexible rules of the house such as no cats on the table or counter.  Miu is quite familiar with these codes of feline conduct.  She would be aghast if she saw them violated.

Because of shifting sleep times, we rose late.  The cats were not at all forgiving.  

Breakfast should never be served after noon.

A Spear of Summer Grass

I received an advance copy of A Spear of Summer Grass by Deanna Raybourn.  As in Alexander McCall Smith's books, Africa, itself,  is a character here as alive as the savanna and deep as the rift valley.  Raybourn brings the land and its people to life, breathing and dusty with attitude.

Delilah Drummond is banished by her family  from polite (and not so polite) society in Paris to rusticate at Fairlight, her uncle's plantation, near Mombasa.  Near is a relative term depending on the coming of the long rains when the roads are barely passable.

 Fairlight might have been called an operating plantation if the irrigation system operated properly.  As it is, Delilah and her cousin, Dora, are immersed in a mystery which is, at first, barely perceptible.  She encounters a hunter and guide who hates guiding and seems to have bagged most of the women in the area.  A challenge?  Perhaps.

Delilah carries her own ghosts who reach from the past and seek to capture her future. She is changed by the people and the experiences she encounters. She is, however, an excellent shot.

I could not put this book down: Received it on Friday evening and finished it on Sunday afternoon.  Deanna Raybourn just gets better and better.

Ahh, Free

Today, I acquired a prequel to "A Spear of Summer Grass." The novelette called "Far in the Wilds." is set in Africa.. Barnes and Noble offer it as a free download. 

Luv-ly!

We had such plans . . .

We had such plans for today.  We took BigEd to work so we could keep his car. We dropped J's and my car off the the mechanic to get the brakes done and oil changed. Our honest mechanic said we had half the brake pads left and that they just made occasional squealing noise because there was dirt on the pads.  He changed the oil and rotated the tires.  That was it.

He did not have the time to change the oil in BigEd's car so we returned it to him at work.  His oil change is scheduled for Friday.

We spent less money than we had planned on the car.  Sometimes when plans go awry, it's a good thing.

I never win anything, until I DO!

Apologies for the hiatus without explanation.  But I am back now.  And I am so stoked.  I have loved Deanna Raybourn's books and have been a fan and reader of her blog since the first book "Silent in the Grave" came out.  

I have followed her from blog platform to platform, from the first: Blog A-go-go to the present:
Deanna Raybourn which has just been incarnated to an easier to follow format.

The NEWS is that I will receive an advance copy of  "A Spear of Summer Grass" to read and let you know what I think of it.  Since she never produces anything which does not increase her following, I am looking forward to receiving my copy.  With glee, glee, I tell you. 

And I WILL tell you.  As soon as I read it.

Cross Creek and 'cross the state

We visited upstate so briefly that we should call it a drive by.  Since we returned, my dear sister sent me a notice of a Cross Creek Festival.  Momentous. I wish she and I could go.

We are both avid about Cross Creek, written by Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings.  We have always said that we would like to go and see for ourselves the environs where Ms. Rawlings wrote and cooked and hunted.  
That particular book resonates with our childhood, I believe, although the only things I have ever shot (at Uncle Wag's and Aunt Doris's place) were guavas placed as distant targets in the grass.  I was deadly when shooting at those.  If we had ever been attacked by guavas . . .

Observing Uncle Wag, I saw how readily the training of dogs was achieved by  repetition, patience and praise.  I love doing that, to this day.  

I really do wish we could have gone to Cross Creek together. 

Warm is better . . .

We are now the recipients of a second, new hot water heater.  This one works without blowing thermostats or getting so hot that one could almost make tea with water from the tap.  

It was not difficult, we just had to be persistent and annoying in asserting out claims.  

Now, warm showers are the norm again.  It is amazing how we take such things for granted until they go missing from everyday life.  



 

Whadda YOU smell?

On July 9th of this year, we bought a replacement hot water heater after the thirty-plus-year-old one died.  The new one lasted two months.  We are in negotiations to get it replaced because the upper AND lower thermostats were replaced three days ago and now no longer work.  They want to replace the element(s) before giving us a whole replacement water heater. 

I am beginning to smell lemons every time I turn on the hot water tap. 

Squallng out power ...

Yesterday, we received the gift of a line of squalls traveling one after another over our neighborhood.  The power went out about two p.m.  FP&L said that their equipment was at fault.  I guess so.  The flash and thunderclap were simultaneous with Mew leaping away to hide and the power failure.

 I had just bought a flashlight which is a really bright led.  I used it to guide me to the Nook which had just been fully charged.  I read for the better part of three hours until the lights flickered back on.  It is indeed that ill wind which blew some good, for me, at least.

We had turned off the beeping UPCs and the A/C, so everything electronic survived.

We were back to the future as soon as . . .

Rain n katz . . .

We had 6.2 inches of rainfall today.  Thank the Lord for the storm drains that Commissioner Javier Souto was instrumental in having installed.  In the olden days, water would have been over half way up our driveway.  Now, it confines itself to the swale before draining away.

Snax strolled down the hallway, under my eyeballs, this morning.  He rounded a hassock and I heard a small hiss from Miu.  I herded him back to his room, explaining that she was not ready to be friendly yet.  

This was a big improvement over her getting "all haired up" and lashing her tail.  She didn't even bother to stand up.  Progress.

I hope the little ol' Lake City kitty is feeling better. Really hope so.

Miu and improved version . . .

Miu is much better.  She has started playing much more and killed her squeaky-mouse again last night.  Her favorite plaything, right now, is a piece of my kitchen string.  I need to get her another "Da Bird" as she really did kill the last one.  She played it to death.

She and Snax are inured to one another.  He is gaining weight and can really push on your hand to be petted.  Of course, he prefers doing that while you are putting down his food which can scatter everything.  

He likes that, too.

Snake, snake, or the intrepid . . .

We took Miu (note the spelling change of her name)  to the vet on Sunday.  She was sneeze/coughing and Dr. B., our regular vet, was on call.  We also discovered that there is no extra charge for weekend, or even Sunday, visits.  Didn't know.

She is a fighter at the vet and has three red dots on her chart. It was explained to us that one red dot means:  gets mad.

Our vet had his wrist in a cast which he said was because he broke it when he slipped and fell while chasing a python near 67th and Bird Rd.  He showed us pix of the (deceased)  beast on his iPhone.  Long, it was, (18-19 feet) and great of girth.

He let BigEd and me stay while they examined Miu and drew some of her blood.  Not a peep out of her as long as she could see and hear us cheering her on.  No growling, no screaming, no struggles. 

It turned out to be a virus so she didn't get an antibiotic.  We did learn, however, that she should not receive any more shots or vaccinations because she is 12 years old. 

She has recovered without treatment. 

Little hypochondriac . . .

U-Verse, yes-verse

We have had U-verse for over a week, now.  There is a slight learning curve which has flattened out a bit.  I find I am recording more movies that only I want to see.  Comic stuff, perhaps, or British.  Today and last night it was Zoo Keeper and Freaky Friday.  I have discovered The Importance of Being Earnest, with Colin Firth and Judy Dench, but have not had a chance to view it in its entirety, yet.  I love what I have seen of it, though.  If  I can just find The King's Speech . . .

Plus I confess a guilty pleasure:  Big Brother After Dark on Showtime2, which we never received before.  I admit that shows in some of the trailers hyping other Showtime offerings are not for me.

If you liked the All Creatures Great and Small series, The Incredible Dr. Pol, on Nat Geo is for us both.  These are just the few I have found recently.  Watching anything from any set in the house, and with full featured controls on any set, is still a novelty.

Zeta20 told us we would love it . . .

Further adventures in commenting

Firefox doesn't seem to recognize my gmail identity on when I try to comment on Adventures in Lake City.

Believe it or not, I.E. does remember my identity.  This is my only activity on I.E.  I open it for commenting on A in LC.  

My further adventures in computing, I guess.

Never Mind . . .

I went to Blogger address provided by 01 Doc in a previous comment.  I queried Blogger why I could not comment on Sarah's blog.  I said that Blogger could reply to my gmail address.

THEN, I signed in to the Google gmail address found a copy of my query to blogger which had been sent to gmail.  That email contained the url for Adventures in Lake City.

I clicked on the url, was transferred to the actual blog and was able to comment.  Why? I dunno.  The Universe moves in mysterious ways.  So does the Bloggerverse - possibly the Google-verse, too.

I do know that I had better not delete that email, ever . . .

Cry for Blogger help!!!

I am out of options when trying to comment on Adventures in Lake City.  I have tried asking Blogger for help but can only get instructions for logging  in to comments on blogs that work as usual.

Funny that o1 Doc can  comment and I can't.  As soon as I click on "publish," the info I have typed into the comment window  disappears, no matter which ID I have selected.  I tried "anonymous" just now and can't comment.

Does anyone know how to ask blogger an individual question?  To a real live person?  I haven't been able to.

I shutter to think . . .

We put up the shutters for Isaac.  The sharp edges of them must have scared him away.  Rather than cut his windy fingers on them, he veered to the West and decided we could keep our electric power, after all.

He is a different critter in the Gulf.   I thank the Lord that we were spared. 

There is a side effect to having the windows covered.  From inside the house, it always seems as if it is just about to rain.   Our poor Miu runs and sticks her head and shoulders under the drapes at the long front window to look for lizards and such.  She soon comes back out clearly puzzled as to where the rest of the world has gone.

We have been keeping Miu and Snax apart because Miu is a senior citizen, only cat, and has to indicate whether she will accept Snax.  Today they drank a little tuna water from bowls about four feet apart.  Snax kept his head in his bowl while Miu kept bobbing up to look at him and then back to having some more goodness.  She finished first and walked into the bedroom that is hers and BigEd's.  Snax turned and went back into his own room (smart boy) and I closed his door. 

I am not sure what this portends.  Perhaps Snax wields more patience.  He is a relly sweet cat.  We took him to be spayed (we thought he was a girl) and found out he had already been neutered.  He got his shots and a checkup.  He had been living in our yard under the bushes or under the cars.  He was getting thinner and thinner.  We finally decided that if we did not feed him, he might just lie down one day and not get up.  Someone abandoned a really sweet cat who is pathetically grateful to interact with humans.  Miu better loosen up.

 It's going to be a long summer.

We Are Hunkered

We have storm shutters on all windows.  We are in our cocoon and the cats agree that something is up.  They are sticking to us, at least Miu is.  For a while she hid in the bathroom but then decided we might be the safer choice.  She is not sure just how much power we have over the elements.  

If she only knew . . . . . .

Message to Sarah

This is for Sarah.  I still can not post.  My comments disappear into the ether when I click on publish.  I think this will appear on the right side of your blog . . .

The measure of Thank You . . .

We might be living under a repressive regime, but we're not.  We might be suffering from hunger or thirst, but we're not.  We might have few human rights, but that's not the case.  We might need to run for our lives, but that situation is not ours.  

Not now, not at this moment, because " ... the last full measure of devotion" is on the line for so many of our defenders whose bodies, hearts and souls are the currency of our freedom.

"Thank You" is a small offering for such sacrifice.

Shame on . . .

AT&T has responded, evidently, to my previous post.  Or perhaps I was one of a myriad of protesters.  The wait time for Connectech service is reduced to two or three minutes as I discovered recently.  

Also, they are saying again that we can have U-verse service.  I am a doubter, though.  Twice before we have been told that it was available.  It's that fool-me-once, fool-me-twice experience.