Thursday, April 7, 2016

A lethal combination

I don't know what the hell this blog is supposed to be about (obviously not good grammar), and I don't know what motivates me to post anything.  And yet, here I am.  So, you aren't going to learn anything (cooking, crafts, my secrets for cleaning windows..) useful, and yet, you might.

Where to start.  Four weeks ago something bit me or stung me, not sure which.  The bites looked a bit like mosquito bites, but that had become welts.  Not to be too indelicate about the matter, but three bites were right below my waistline, two right below the elastic on my underwear on the right leg, one on each cheek (yes those cheeks) and one on my left calf.  Damn they itched and I scratched so forcefully that I had bruises.  As time went by, I started itching everywhere except my face and feet.  It got so bad that at night I could not sleep.  I'd spend the days in pretty good shape, get into bed with just a bit of scratchiness like a wool sweater on my skin, but by midnight, I'd have to get out of bed just to SCRATCH.  It was miserable.

I tried everything I could find on line:  apple cider vinegar, cool baths with baking soda, alcohol, alovera gel.  I had gotten so desperate that I was applying our dogs' "HOT SPOT" lotion.  Nothing helped.  Benadryl, calamine lotion, anti-histamines.  I could only sleep after chugging ZZZquil.  

Finally I got so tired of it, I visited the doctor.  I mean why go to see a doctor because you've been bitten and you itch?  Desperation.  I love my doc.  It is like meeting with a friend down the street.  Now I am on prednisone, prescription Claritin and something else to help me sleep.  My liver, kidney and thyroid have been tested, and it appears I have no underlying terrible disease.  I finally got to sleep this weekend and only feel scratchy on the sides of my body, but it is tolerable.  This is not the point of this post, however, just the background.

So, the day I started feeling better, it was like a drug.  Euphoria.  Isn't that bird so beautiful at the window?  Has the weather ever been so perfect?  Why don't I clean all of the windows in the house?  Why don't I replace the automatic switch for the front door light?  I mean it can't be that hard to remove a switch and install a new one.  Can it?  Let me call my sister, Tracy, so that she can assure me I can do it.

Of course.  Just make sure the electricity is turned off.  The worse that can happen is that you will blow a fuse.  

My plan was to look up on line how to install a light switch and then follow the directions.  First mistake was looking up the directions, then turning off the electricity to the light switch, which it turned out, was the same fuse for the computer that had my directions.  After about 30 minutes, that was resolved and equipped with printed instructions, I was prepared to do battle.  I had a new switch, electrical tape, and what I thought was the tool that helps you scrape the plastic stuff off the bare wires.  I consulted my printed directions with illustrations.

PEOPLE, people who write directions on the web!  LISTEN TO ME.  LISTENNNNNNNNN!!  

You cannot start out instructions for installing a light switch by indicating that said light switch has a brass and a silver screw.  How is it that you know this?  Mine had two brass screws.  Also, don't tell me that the black wire is most likely the "hot" one and the white is most likely not.  Mine had no white wire.  Thank god I have great powers of observation and deduction.

After another call to Tracy for assurances I successfully installed the switch (but did not screw it in permanently until I checked for a blown fuse).  This is how the professionals do it.  After sufficiently patting myself on the back, and resisting a prank call back to Tracy from "the emergency room at Northern Virginia Hospital seeking Rebecca's next of kin", I proudly returned to the switch for the final installation.  Only then did I realize that I had installed the switch upside down, and therefore realized that I had deduced which wires went where but backwards.  So I ended up with a correct installation by mistake.

So what is the point of this post?  Post-switch-installation, post-itching euphoria and Amazon.com don't mix.  Who orders a 46 cent white switch cover and has it delivered with Amazon Prime?  I'm ashamed to say, it is I.  I also ordered a new front door knob set, a curved shower curtain rod, a new light for my husband's side of the bed (another post altogether), and what Amazon calls an "add-on"---my 46 cent switch cover, which can be delivered as a part of any $25 or more Amazon Prime delivery at no extra charge.  My god, it IS a beautiful world.

Tuesday, March 8, 2016

MOLLY

Molly.

Nearly 10 months ago, I lost my best friend, Chapi.  He had been with me from the time he was eight weeks old until he passed away at almost 17 years.  I’ve written about him before, so won’t bring all of that up again, but I’ve done nothing but miss my boy since he left.

Now, I am going to pick up a new best friend, I hope.  Her name is Molly and she is also a bichon frise like Chapi.  I found her through my friend, Kim, who is all consumed with animal rescue.  She promises me that Molly is a love-bug and a real lap dog.  That is what I want.  When Chapi was a puppy, I would always put him on my chest when I was laying on the couch watching TV.  He knew that if I were seated, his place was right next to me….or on top of me….or really on top of whoever happened to be around and seated.  He is one tough act to follow.

I’m excited and scared all at the same time.  Molly is three years old.  She has been in at least 3 homes in the past year.  Her ‘family’ home was so crowded with other dogs, that I doubt she got as much attention as I plan on giving her, but her ‘foster’ mom has been loving on her, and Kim has showered her with attention.  What if she doesn’t like me?  What if I don’t like her?

Kim tells me she is small.  8-9 pounds.  That’s half the size of Chapi at his most robust.  I can take her with me wherever I go.  I can share my e-bike adventures with her if she can learn to ride in a basket on the handlebars.  But what if she isn’t Chapi?

What if she does’t look like she is going to talk any minute?  What if her eyes don’t sparkle when I walk in the door?  How can I expect her to exude personality like that?



Ridiculous. These ruminations of mine are ridiculous.  Isn’t this the same thing I worried about over 20 years ago when my sister, Tracy, was about to have her second child?  How could I love another child as much as I loved the first one?  I had been there at his birth.  I had for the first time really understood what it is like for parents and their children.  But I could not understand how anyone could love another child this much.  Of course, as I learned, love just expands.  Love does not need to be taken from the first child to have enough for the second.  Surely, the same will hold when Molly enters my world.

I will know in a few hours.  More to come on this.


So, guess what?  Molly isn't Chapi, but she IS Molly...all eight pounds of her.  She is a laid-back Bichon mix, so the "mix" must have included a pretty laid back breed!
  But she is so sweet and loves to be held.  She seems to love the Bolivian dress I made her (see photo).  She is still a bit confused over who her "mommy" is, but once I get her home, I think she will bond to me quickly.  Now that I see her personality, I think maybe she can become a therapy dog.

Monday, February 15, 2016

GETTING THERE is all the fun!

Bolivia for two weeks.  My hopes were for hotels that have hot water.  The reality has turned out better.  Our first night, though was quite an adventure.  Suzanne and I met in Miami for American Airlines flight 922 to La Paz and on to Santa Cruz leaving at 10:30 pm and arriving in Santa Cruz at 9:30 the next morning.  The reality was a cancelled flight at 10:30, standing in line to change our tickets along with at least 400 people.  We were lucky that we were only about the 20th persons in line.  Lucky in that it took us only 2 ½ hours to get our ticket (we had rebooked by phone while in the line, but could not get the tickets except by remaining in line).  All of American’s flights the next three days were booked up.  Suzanne and I were lucky to get on a flight on Copa (Panamanian airlines) the next day at 11:45 am.  We were not so lucky with sleeping arrangements, however.

Note to American Airlines:  A hotel room would have cost you up to $200 according to the agent who gave us our vouchers if there had been any rooms available.  Sleeping on a cot in the auditorium cost you what?  Couldn’t you provide a blanket larger than 2 ½ feet by 6 feet and thicker than a Kleenex?  We FROZE, and I mean FROZE.  Suzanne had a blanket for our adventure to the Salt Mines and I had a shawl.  Neither helped us much.  I guess the cots being so close to the floor and made of porous material...cold air just blew up under us.  It was Miami.  Who would think it would be that cold.

Second note to American Airlines:  We got to the cots at 1:15 and you kicked us out at 6.  Did you really need the space that badly?  Thank god we really weren’t sleeping (see above note).

Note to the two Olympic level snorers:  Really?  You didn’t wake yourselves up?  How about at least synchronizing the next time.

We were happy, I suppose, that we got out in 2 ½ hours.  We wondered about the 400 or so people behind us in line.  We had re-booked and only needed the paperwork, and our case took over 15 minutes at the agent’s desk.  My organizational mind kept wondering WHY it took that long to assign and print out vouchers for meals.  Obviously everyone in that line was in the same boat and all of those in front of us had been in the same situation.  Wouldn’t it seem that there would be some method for automatically printing out the vouchers with our reservation number alone.  At one point our agent asked her colleague about something on her screen that obviously had something to do with date of birth.  Huh?

Believe it or not, but we got a survey from American on the quality of the trip.  I'm waiting until I get home to craft a good response.

Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Both sides of retirement

I was feeling a little worried last night about what in the world I would have to say in blogs after I did my little catch up on retirement yesterday, but then I got a few well wishes and people aspiring for retirement.  Hmmm.  Am I really giving the whole story, I asked myself.  Mostly.  And that's the truth.  

FINANCES.  Do I look at my investments daily?  Yeah.  Do I thank my lucky stars that I have a pension and soon will have Social Security?  Yeah.  But mostly I thank my lucky stars that I had people who inspired me to save money.  So now that's out of the way.  You will worry about money, but you'll have enough.  That's not the problem with retirement.

HEALTH.  Thank goodness I have it.  Lucky with my genes I suppose.  Mom is 85 and Dad is 93, and both are still kicking.  Dad's grandfather was 97 when he died.  So, I'm lucky.  But I go to the gym with my pal, Pam, every day but one.  We Body Pump, Body Flow and Spin our way every morning at 9:30, 10 or 10:30 depending upon the class.  I'm pretty sure I'd not have kept this up if it weren't for her and I think she feels the same.  I'm not convinced (but I think she is) that the hour of sweat makes up for the wine at night, but it can't hurt.

BOREDOM.  I'm easily bored and probably boring.  I live in this great area, yet ask me how much I really take advantage of it.  Not much. I had a list, if you remember, of the things I was going to do in retirement.  I don't think I've gotten to number 2 or 3 yet.  I did seriously apply myself to learning Spanish this year and was doing pretty well, but then came the trip to Vietnam, the holidays and here I am staring at my two week visit with my in-laws in Bolivia starting tomorrow and I am in a panic.  But that aside, boredom can be your enemy.  The gym helps a lot because it structures my mornings.  Between getting there, doing the deed, and getting home a good two hours are gone.  Before the gym I have my on-line newspapers, checking my finances, laughing at my comics (Get Fuzzy),
eating and feeding the dog.  Did that last line sound like I was eating the dog?  Eating breakfast and feeding the dog, is what I meant.  Anyway, I digress.  Boredom could be a problem, but I seem to have found things to do.

STIMULATION.  Okay, so here is the rub.  I MISS working.  I don't miss the job, but I miss the stimulation of (don't laugh) going to meetings.  Yeah, can't believe I said it either, but think about it.  I'm home from the gym, may or may not take a shower, sitting here and thinking, what am I going to do today?  Some days I just MISS getting dressed in grownup clothes and lady shoes, gathering my paper and pen, laptop, phone, etc and taking off to a meeting with other people.  Sure most of the meetings didn't really get us anywhere, but they were always good for a laugh and a few stories. I miss that interaction.  I also miss producing something.  Volunteering has helped, but slicing and dicing veggies isn't really that stimulating.  The problem is that I want the stimulation of producing something, but I don't want to put up with the rest of what a real job entails. 

STRUCTURE.  I miss structure sometimes.  My spouse has been out of the country for almost a week.  Hurrah I have the house and my time to myself!  I hate to admit it, but I need the structure of knowing someone is coming home tonight.  I have not taken a shower in 48 hours.  The dishes from yesterday (and maybe the day before) are still in the sink.  The kitchen looks like the aftermath of a frat party at Indiana University.  I ate three-day-old roasted vegetables for dinner last night with a cheap bottle of Prosecco.  Then I rummaged around in the freezer to see if (god-willing) there might be a frozen candy bar left over from Halloween.  There wasn't.  So I ate three ginger snaps left over from who knows what party.  Dipped in the Prosecco they weren't too bad.  If it weren't for the dog whom I must feed and clean up after, I'd probably be in bed eating bonbons and binge watching Doc Martin.

Thank goodness I'm back to my blog.  Thanks, Cathy.

Monday, February 8, 2016

Getting back in the game

I ran into some old friends at a retirement party at the Pentagon the other day.  One of them (Cathy) said that she missed my musings here so I thought maybe I should start this thing up again.  I explained that one reason I don't blog as much any longer is that I spend too much time trying to get the photos that accompany my posts looking just right, then I get so tired, I just stop writing.  So, I'll re-think that approach from now on.

It has been 42 months, 3 and a half years, since I retired.  Time moves so quickly, doesn't it?  In those three years I believe I could count on one hand (and maybe one foot) the times I've been bored.  Can't really count on one finger the times I wish I were still working full time, however.  Attending the retirement party further reminded me of what I do and don't miss.  I miss the wonderful folks I knew.  I don't miss the intrigue, in-fighting and stress.

In the past three 1/2 years, I've been to Italy, France, China, Bolivia, Vietnam, Cambodia, Korea and Florida, North and South Carolina, Indiana, Kentucky, New York, Texas, Cincinnati and the Hamptons.  I've got several more good trips ahead of me.  I don't really think I'll ever run out of places to go...but maybe the steam to get there.

I've built and maintained a beautiful community garden here at home, hosted three very successful Halloween parties in that garden and feel like I've in some way created a community right here on my street.  The children in the neighborhood know my name and wave when they ride by in their parents' cars.  One mother told me that my name was the second thing her little boy said.  Not sure what more I could expect in the way of feeling good about that garden.

I've volunteered at Martha's Table cutting up vegetables, fruits and the dreaded raw chicken for close to 700 hours.  Made some great new friends there while we were all crying over the diced onions or laughing at some of the ridiculous and down right erotic shapes of various vegetables.  I wish I had taken some photos to illustrate, but then I guess I'd be right back where I started at the beginning of this post....working on the photos and not getting to the writing.

I've lost two good friends.  I'm not sure what to say about that.  I miss them.  I wish so much that they could have had the time that I have to have done all of the above.  But they didn't and it is unfair.

I've made two good friends, also.  Just two doors down.   We've lived in both these houses for almost 20 years, but had not become friends.  How busy were our lives that we did not have time to meet and become friends.  Lost time.  Lost laughs...for they make me laugh so often. 

I've reconnected with my middle sister, Lee, over the care of our parents.  We never lost contact with each other, but we weren't "connected" if you know what I mean.  Now, I think we both appreciate our differences because we see that one's strength might be the other's weakness, but it's all good.  The combination of our strengths is what has made the whole situation much more do-able.  No one is sweeter than Lee Ann, no one can turn on the charm like she can and NO ONE can tear you a new one if she thinks you aren't taking care of mom or dad like you should.  She is my secret weapon with the medical establishment when all else fails.

I'm not sure how many hours I've spent lying on my sister Tracy's couch watching pretty terrible movies on TV and laughing.  I've laughed so much in that living room that I could run out of laughs but probably not for at least another 100 years.  Neither of us can really figure out how we pick such awful movies to rent, but we do, and we vow not to the next time, but we do it again.  She has a laugh that makes me laugh.  Kind of reminds me of the day I was in a pet store and a parrot started mimicking my laugh, which made me laugh, which made the parrot laugh so more and so on.  I love laughing.  Tracy is my rock.  She is my secret weapon when I start questioning myself.  She cuts right to the chase and makes me see the ridiculousness of my concerns.


I lost my best friend, too.  It has been almost a year since I lost my Chapi.  I'm trying to live with only one dog, but poor Indy isn't Chapi.  It's not his fault. He doesn't have the in-your-face personality.  He doesn't run to you saying "pick me pick me" with his eyes.  He doesn't snuggle as close to me as he can every night and wake me up with that cold nose and those big black eyes.  I don't believe there are many dogs out there like he was (yes, I know you think the same thing about your pet!).  I miss him.

So, it has been a very good, no great, 3 1/2 years.  I'm looking to many more and wondering when some of those good folks from the retirement party are going to join me.

Okay.  Had to add just this one photo, because I know it will make Tracy call me and LAUGH!