You Want Me To WHAT????

 Yes, I'm a geezer. Mostly happy about it. There have been a lot of good things in my many years, and I like to think I've learned from the ones that weren't, so much. There comes a time however, when you just can't add another thousand pointless changes to your life skills, and have to draw the line. Especially when adopting those changes adds a heck of a lot of unnecessary costs to your life.

OK, I know that generations of you have been taught by persistent marketing that you "need" the latest piece of electronic gadgetry. Item J does one thing better than item I, which did two things better than item H, which wasn't better than item G but did everything two seconds faster. You didn't actually need  H, I, or J, but "everybody" was bragging about having them and showing them off.  My much older "D" is good enough and does what I bought it for very well. Still. After all these years. Even better, I'm familiar with how it works, and by now, when the brain gets distracted for a mental hike around the block, muscle memory can take over and manage things just fine.

A letter brought it back in today's mail. That philosophy can apply to a lot of situations. In this case, I got a new credit card. Not an additional one, but a replacement for one that received a bogus charge. I called the card company, they deleted the charge and canceled the card, arranging to send a new card with new numbers on it. 

The letter it came in started out by telling me to use a tiny QR code to find out how to start the new card. Say what?

Is anybody reading this surprised to learn that I don't "do" QR codes, never have, don't have the app, never plan to get the app, and tend to get annoyed when others assume "everybody" communicates that way?

I pulled out my cell phone and called the customer service number stored there for many years for the credit card company. I got a machine. A helpful machine. It asked for the last 4 numbers of my card. I gave them - from the new card of course. It compared those digits with the number I called in from, informed me they matched their records, and I could now go ahead and use my new card.

It doesn't get any easier than that. Who the hell needs a QR code?

There was also a reminder to destroy the old card. I had been putting that off... it's been hellaciously busy these last few days, complicated by a nasty cold. Who needed extra stuff to keep track of? As soon as I ended the call I put the new card where it belonged and pulled out the old invalid one. It felt amazingly sturdy. 

I tried bending a crease down the middle, my usual go-to for destroying one. It sort of had a gradual bend in it. Not good enough. I repeated a dozen times, added teeth to try harder to crimp the bend, and looked at it again. Most times by this point damage was visible, some crack showing, even possible partial separation.

Hmmmm...now what? I have no cutting tool sharp and sturdy enough to create separate pieces. So-o-o-o not planning to ruin any good scissors. Normal hardware pliers didn't do it after jewelry quality tools also failed.  I so had been hoping to put one piece in a bag of trash for this week and the other in a bag of trash for next week. I figure the odds of any individual piecing them together out of a whole landfill are negligible... enough.

I came up with one more destruction idea, but it would take careful prep, the "just in case" kind. I decided to burn it!

First, I located a pair of jewelry pliers that would safely and securely hold it. I made sure it would grip, not slip. I pulled a small stainless steel bowl from the cupboard and filled it 2/3 full of tap water, setting it next to the stove top. After turning on the closest burner, I got a tight pliers grip on the card and held the part where numbers showed on the flame for about 5 seconds. Warping happened, a tiny flame appeared, and I dropped tool and card into the water. Looking at it several seconds later, numbers were mostly obliterated. 

The other side however still held the bright symbol logos looking perfectly OK.  Oooh, goodie, another chance for some damage! A repeat from the other angle did both color changes plus more card warping. Nobody would ever be able to slide that card through anything! But now in warping both sides in different warps, they melted together along the middle seam I tried to bend in two for separation. Not only hadn't it separated, but the miniscule flaws where a layer had been dinged a little bit were now fused together in a fat ridge, completely rigid, and not just sort of unbendable but unbendable squared!

OK, time for news, weather, a TV schedule and some food. Oh yeah, and don't forget the big double fleece lap blanket. Whew!

Minnesota Backyard birds

 This is also more photos than prose. Reason? The internet was out ( we had been warned of maintenance) and no TV either, my cold wouldn't let me sleep because for some reason I preferred to breathe without choking and I had to stay vertical for that. About the only thing to keep my interest was going through my photo library, which doesn't need internet. There is an easy way to order the files to be presented in order of first entered to last entered, one long solid block of - currently - something over 4,500 in the library. I had/have many more on thumb drives, but I wasn't up to fighting those to check out the damages from sitting in a hot PODS through part of an AZ summer. (Bad packing organization!) Some other day, more energy.

In the last couple days, for various reason, I've been going through various ones, sometimes finding what I wanted, sometimes not, but occasionally certain organizational themes popped out. If you read the three previous posts, you know what I mean. A lot of birds popped out along the way, and I separated them into two major piles. The first are from the back yard over the many years in Shafer. The second will be birds from either travels (when I can locate them... so just a plan at the moment) and depending on success it may or may not combine with Arizona birds. Fair warning: my bird identification guides mostly got purged with the AZ house library in a sale for the move, so not all may be correctly identified. Oh well. C'est la vie.

I'm starting with bird feeders. Winters require suet and seeds, maybe some fruits. Insects and worms have long gone dormant, but the environment often provides some varieties of sustenance, and humans who love watching birds (closer!) fill in the blanks.

This is our smallest woodpecker, the Downey. I love attracting them for the bit of red color. It's only in the males.

The female doesn't have it. Same feeder combo, different days, judging from amount of suet. On some quiet days, one can hear them rat-tat-tatting in nearby trees and know there are insects spending what they thought was a sleepy winter under the bark.

 

The nuthatch , a tad smaller than the Downy, hangs around where food is provided, and offers just a hint of tan color.

A larger bird, identified by its crest and beak color, is the female cardinal. They harvest fruits and seeds still clinging to branches out in the yard, like cranberry or cherry bushes, but usually are shyer about coming in close to the house.

Cardinals also like a platform feeder far back in the yard with a spread of seeds like sunflower, easy in/out for safety, and a good view of who's around. The males are a rare large spot of red in the winter, with their bolder color. If these shots were taken at the same time they might be a mated pair, but I only saw one here and another there, and they never confided their personal life stories to me.

Robins have been known as one of the first spring arrivals, and that has until recently always meant actual calendar spring. Perhaps 20 years ago I could spot some in winter around large company buildings which kept sidewalks heated to melt snow and ice.  A few years later we could spot some in the yard once the snow melted off the cranberry bushes. The year we stopped snowbirding and moved back north for good they were already in the yard along with the snow. The cranberries had died out and not been replaced, but robins appeared in the tops of birches like this, where perhaps their seeds were useful.

A common suet feeder visitor in winter is something we very rarely see in summer, for whatever reason. When the trees were leafing out it was a surprise to see this junco duo up in the branches.

Chickadees are another common winter guest at the suet, and again, we tend to not see them in summer. So it was a surprise in the new place just after moving in around mid June that year to find a pair of these inhabiting a run-down bird house, using an attached second house as a perch. It was at the end of our parking spot so I'd just sit and watch from the car if there wasn't ice cream melting or something. This one had just arrived, on a day I actually remembered my camera, with a juicy yellow worm/caterpillar in its bill. It tried to juggle it a bit when landing, but it dropped to the ground. Oops. This is it looking - I like to think abashedly - at the hole just barely showing in the upper house where hungry young are waiting, before flying off to try again. The family was around about another three weeks. The post the two houses were attached to was rotting, so we removed the whole thing and gave it to a friend who wanted to repair/repaint it and set it up more securely in their own yard.

The old back yard was/is full of a variety of fruit trees and bushes. It should be no surprise that a frequent spring visitor is the cedar waxwing. It's also fairly shy - smart bird! - and often hangs out in a flock of robins and cardinals, all after the same leftover small fall fruits like cranberries when they first  arrive in spring.

They stick around to purloin cherry and apple blossoms off newly blooming trees to ... help thin the fruit? Sure, that's it, thin the fruit to help the trees.

Summer birds have more resources, and while we know they are around, it's harder to find reasons for them to be close to the house where we can observe and shoot them. In recent years the back yard has been fairly neglected, unless it was being set up for a family party / bonfire / brats and s'mores roast. It used to be where family dogs played safely fenced, but none accompany us now. What does happen there is branches get collected, either to stack in piles for later burning, or one year just pile up loosely on a large plastic table, to be ignored till needed. So nobody realized what was happening there until one day when we were looking out the window and saw flashes of color.

 

I apologize for the quality, but some days it is all you can get. A story is its justification. There had been several young Baltimore orioles under the branches, and most were ready to fledge. A parent flew the short distance to the chain link fence, then another short distance to very productive bush cherries. It then flew back and forth, calling, encouraging the young to fly over to get their own food. First one followed, then a second. Meanwhile from the house, we were watching, trying to get photos, hoping not to scare everybody so we could continue to watch the fun and see how the parent was trying to teach a valuable lesson to its young. We humans got about a ten minute show until something or somebody startled them into disappearing. Only two young had approached, one stopping on the fence, but the other perched on a branch and was plucking at the fruit before it all ended. 

We didn't see them again. At least the chipmunks in the yard don't scare that easily.

On the north border of the back yard has been a raspberry patch for many years. It's fenced, and on some of the poles we put up wood houses. Tree swallows took over the first few years, then wrens for a bit, then nobody... until one year we had a bluebird family! 

Note that the boxes were too large, the posts too close, too urban, too... not bluebird preferred. But here we were. We happened to be having family over for one of those bonfires. The kids were kept back from that part of the yard - the s'mores were more fun anyway - and my camera caught some of the action. They are so rare in the conditions we offered them, that I just kept shooting. I'll let the sequence speak for itself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Once this family fledged, as far as I know they never returned either. But we had the joy of them for a short while.

What more can you ask?

Hoarfrost

 Another gift of a cold climate, usually a preface to winter, but still showing the previous season's life, is hoarfrost. Some years we get some, others... well.... say what? These are a compilation of several years past.

It can hang from thin branches still holding catkins snuggled up tight for the following spring when they unfold and fly, starting new lives in neglected spaces.

It can hang from still-green leaves and undropped pickable fruits, like highbush cranberries, just an accent to shout, "We're still here!"

 It can find blossom petals clinging to coneflowers to wrest every iota of warmth and growth before season end, putting it to its long sleep.

It can cover the upper extensions of a cedar branch, and once done, leave it still green to decorate all our seasons for years to come.

It can decorate the dead opened seed pods that were long overlooked but now a multidimentional work of art, pointing out every curve, hollow, niche...

but only now can you see how different is it from its neighbor.

 

It can draw your eye to the sky with its subtle tricks with the light.

But every so often it clings to flat bare places, growing out from them unpatterned to revel in its own heretofore hidden glory!

Minnesota Winter Ice

I used to get out and about for work early, regardless of the weather, the snow, the ice, what have you. Sometimes I'd pop right back into the house, grab a camera, and steal myself a few extra minutes to get somewhere. It's a love-hate relationship with winter , though after snowbirding for over 10 years, more hate than love these days. I suppose an older body also has something to do with that. Back then there was also the fact that early morning light, or night-lit scenes, often had more to say to my eye.

The sun rising across the street was great for making ice on ice/snow stand out. Our entryway back then formed icicles at the end of the gutter down spouts, shortened once the long drain tube was removed. Or maybe it just fell and broke in the cold, or was simply moved. Who remembers? One year several icicles dropped off, standing up in the drift made by shoveling the driveway. 

My bedroom window also faced the sunrise. Being in the more humid indoors, sometimes the cold even came through from the storm window and Jack Frost had some fun.

A few minutes later, a different slice of glass, a new photo begged for attention. They seemed to be thick, beaded if you will, so I guess it was humid, either inside or outside. I wasn't about to open any windows to try to find out, just enjoy the differences.

Other mornings, different conditions while I slept, and new formations appeared. 

 

There were times I had to head outside to the car and find out what had been painted on them while I slept. Yes, some of you will remember my car always had to be white. But I got a deal on a slightly used model which wasn't. I got clearance from corporate to drive it as a temporary if I got it painted as soon as weather allowed. Meanwhile more fun ensued, looking like snowflakes in design rather than frost.

Obviously this is neither my red or newly white car. I have no clue who drove this one or what it was, though my best guess would be something my son drove. He was going through a lot of different cars back then. Snowbanks, deer, raccoons, or whatever,  seemed to really hate vehicles he drove. (Yeah, I'm going to stick with that excuse. He's a really good guy. Sometime in the far distant future he may actually read this.)   Anyway, something spent a lot of time forming these,very 3D in reality.

Alaskan Ice

OK, I've been sitting here bored and frustrated by the cold, both outside the front door, and the cold clinging to making my body as miserable as possible. I can't/won't try to get out with my camera and find something to shoot. But I can sit in a warm. cozy recliner digesting breakfast, and between coughing fits go through photos and pull out some to share. It's winter here, but I sure can find the same (kind of) thing from old summer shots from a long ago trip to Alaska(2007) with my youngest son and my granddaughter. These date back to my very first digital camera, the only reason I still have them. Actual paper photos had to be purged by the wastebasket-ful for the last move as all the colors had shifted and/or vanished.

You'll never get this photo again. It's Exit Glacier, then at its foot, showing that lovely blue of deep pressurized ice among the accumulations of dirt from age.  I saw a recent photo and it keeps living up to its name, exiting back up the mountain slope it used to descend from. Even on the hike in, wayyyy back in those days, we passed sign after sign as we left the parking lot showing to what point the glacier had covered back in which year. It was a long - but flat - hike back then. Now it climbs way past this point, and had almost vanished at the very top in that recent photo.

One of our adventures was rafting down a river to Turnagain Arm where chunks of old glacier were breaking off and floating with us. Our rafts each had a guide keeping us safe. I liked this one because the foreground ice looks like a long eared dog enjoying some sun. The blue in each piece indicates the thickness of the formerly glacial ice, much larger than our rafts, though the "dog" was just a bit larger, except for its flat surround, mostly hidden underwater, as floating ice is.

A boat trip out from Seward took us along the Kenai Fjords coast to see, among many other delights, a glacier actively calving. It did so often enough that eventually I caught one huge chunk just hitting the water with a  big splash. We stayed far enough back that our boat got a gentle rocking from the spreading wave. A couple smaller private boats were more stupid but apparently survived. Our captain would have had to react if they hadn't.There were many glaciers along the way that no longer reached the ocean, and I doubt this one still does, but it was well worth a very expensive side trip.

The glacier melt has to go somewhere, and when it's not directly into the ocean, it forms what are called "braided rivers".  This high viewpoint my granddaughter shot gives a better picture than from along the road. The grey land  was "recently" scraped of vegetation by the weight and movement of the glacier which sat on it.

Bush planes are a staple of Alaskan transportation. One can, on clear days, mostly in summer only very early in the mornings, get a great view of mountain near the ocean. If memory serves, knowing where we flew, Cook Inlet is on the back side of these from our perspective, and this kind of view is quickly smothered by clouds and fog. The flight, if one is willing to rise early enough for it, rewards you with this very rare summer view:

Mount Denali! No matter what somebody else calls it, this is Denali!  Out the airplane window of course, and over the wing, but for this you take them where you can get them. Ten minutes later we were in clouds and stayed there until we landed just outside the Park for a guided bus excursion. In two visits to the park, this is the only time I saw the mountain it was named for. Usually when you ask your guide where it is, they point to a cloud bank and say it's off in that direction... maybe. (I guess they tend to sleep in as late as they can in the mornings.)

Note: this is also my granddaughter's picture. I archived her Alaskan trip photos on my computer way back then, later giving her a thumb drive with all of hers. You can tell the difference at a glance because my camera shot rectangles and hers shot squares. She sat in front of the plane with the pilot and caught a much better view than I did.

 

Fun With Deliveries

Do you catch a whiff of sarcasm with "fun"?

This morning a Fed Ex truck drove slowly by our home. OK, no biggie, they normally do that several times a day. So does Amazon. And repair companies. It happens to be a Sunday, which often translates into new or substitute driver. This Sunday also happens to be very cold with recent subsequent snowfalls covering most everything. Including my car, because with my cold I haven't been out to deal with it. I'm not even going to work to share my cold with somebody who doesn't need it. I did call Paul to come over to shovel for us a few days ago post another snowfall, but the current addition barely qualifies for removal. I'll have to head out later in the week for a drive into the metro for a doctor's appointment, but I still won't be digging out the car since Paul will be driving me. As clogged as my head is right now, and having seat belt issues, I'm relying on a different driver. I'll navigate, he'll drive, I'll pay for gas, and his company will pay him for using accumulated PTO. He's valued enough that they let him set his own hours, within reason. This is the shoulder surgeon so hopefully we may repeat this before too long.

All of that is by way of saying there was nothing near the street-facing steps off a tiny porc to indicate they were ever used. Almost enough snow covered them to disguise the step edges.  FedEx knows to bring packages to the covered porch, where the sidewalk and steps are walkable. They are supposed to have that information as part of our address. The regular drivers do it without question. 

They are also supposed to take a photo of the delivery site, send an email, ring the doorbell so we know something happened. But stuff is supposed to land on the large porch platform, under the roof and where nobody inside has to figure out how to haul deliveries up stairs. Most stuff isn't that heavy these days, but when we do expect something heavy we arrange for assistance if needed. Most of that came just after we moved in when I could still handle it.

I got around to checking email around lunchtime. Head cold management these days requires a fair amount of regimen before facing the day, and I spent some time looking up arcane facts about OTC medications and side effects, among other things, first. Some emails had to be answered while I was thinking about them. I gifted myself with a bonus morning nap between breakfast and dressing. You know, all the various stuff that gets one ready for trying to cope with the day. 

Anyway, last thing on the email list was a notice of a delivery. By then I was dressed for keeping warm and comfortable inside, not for the cold or being seen publicly outside. These days that's a 10 minute job... on a good day, when Steve is around to help with  getting extra upper layers pulled on and adjusted.  Cloth has an amazing amount of friction you don't notice until you need to. Before  going to that trouble, I poked my head out the front door to see what had been delivered - I just might take one step, pick up a tiny something, and pop back in again.

Nothing was there.  ???

I glanced down towards the street and there were huge boxes stacked alongside the driveway, not even on the steps, much less at the top of the platform, however covered in snow. OK then, start the routine. Who the heck ordered what this time? I knew we were waiting for a variety of packages, some for months now and likely stuck in customs somewhere... or totally lost and money wasted. There was also a box of boots for winter Steve ordered, though when he checked back on the order details last week they said they filled the order with size 6 instead of size 10 boots! When that arrives he's to take it straight back to the PO and refuse it. Supposedly they'll either refund his money or send the  correct size. Who knows these days? 

There is also a small box I'm waiting for, likely via the post office, for an unusual tree ornament from Smithsonian for somebody on my gift list. I had to call them yesterday to see what happened. I ordered it in early October, ready to wait through the shutdown for it, but I was starting to wonder where it was. After a pleasant chat with somebody in a supervisory position, they had no record of my order, though they had my delivery address and phone number in their records, and showed the last 4 of my credit card that was used. Nothing else.  I asked if they were informing me I'd simply made a donation to them last fall? I'm not saying they don't deserve it, but I did want to find out what was where and why. Was it ever coming? Did I have to reorder? I'd almost forgotten the order after all this time, but the same ad has been in their magazine for the last three issues, reminding me. Since it was identical, I had the item number, price, and description, along with their phone number. It's been so long I didn't have a confirmation number - if one was ever sent via email. I checked my various email boxes. Nada. I did have the old credit card charge for that price, giving me the date of the charge, but it didn't have any tax added or shipping costs. It hadn't occurred to me to miss those at the time I called that order in. Or since. Life got a bit too interesting back then. The woman I was talking with promised to look into it further, since it was a combination of my proof of payment and their their total lack of record. I wonder how many other order glitches happened during early in the shutdown. Are they even finding out yet? Or were others, like me, exercising patience and only now figuring it was time to start asking questions?

I'd actually like to add the extra fees if needed - tax and shipping - and finish the order to get the gift. It is so perfect for the recipient. I might even consider a complete new order and consider the first a donation. (Would that screw up their accounting? Awwwwww. I pity the tax accountants.... sort of.)

All of this was being considered while I was getting dressed for the cold. I've totally lost track of what's been ordered, what is likely sitting down some rabbit hole in some port thanks to tariff confusion, what might still be expected to appear, "popping" into existence as if borne by some genie. (Yeah, magic needed for that job by now!) When I got to "the" huge  box at the bottom of the other steps, I found it was really three boxes! At first look, one had morphed into two but then became three.  THREE? OK, now I really wanted to see who had ordered what. Before any lifting, since all were heavy, I started checking labels. The smallest was definitely for us, so I carried it back and up the steps to where Steve was waiting for it, and handed it off. 

Then back to check out the really large and heavy ones. From my standing position, I had to read their labels upside down. Wheee. Wait...... uh-oh, weird name on the label, and no house number. Not ours then. We have close to 50 sub-addresses in our location. Still, our problem for a bit. I've seen boxes like these before in the mail area. Everybody who goes in for mail checks out large boxes left scattered on the floor when they don't fit in the lockers with a key left in with your paper mail. You never know, right? But the ones with no unit number tend to go to the big old house in the middle of us all, formerly the managers of the place, now still living there but having turned over management to a company. Their adult daughter I know since she mows our lawn weekly for us. We chat a bit while I hand over her pay, and I found out she was in teachers' ed this last year, now graduated, and last news was looking for a place to finish a term where a previous teacher had to step out, say, for a new baby. But a "real" job instead of mowing lawns. (Hey, mowing lawns is REAL WORK! Trust me!) Point is I have her phone number, so I explained the packages to her. No way would I be hauling them to their house - not even up our own stairs, thank you very much - but she'd send family over in their car to pick them up. Oddly enough the names on the label were just a bit off, both last names and even first, so she guessed which family member they might be for. Either way, a few minutes later the car pulled up, boxes went in the trunk, and they went to their house or were left in the mail area.

I returned to the FedEx email and saw they wanted feedback on their delivery.

Oh boy, was I ready.......!

Steve was impatient to open our real package. Once I heard it was obviously a Christmas present in a box that gave every indication of being food goodies,  and it being by now a bit past lunchtime, I sat and watched.  Oh my! We divvied up the things I currently can't eat and the things he can't eat, and after having a snack on the spot as a reward for our work, we put the rest in the fridge for the next few days. Really, food that good needs to be appreciated immediately! None of this nonsense about saving it for under the tree or something! Right? Some will be snacked on, some cut and added to yogurt, some cut and microwaved with cinnamon or honey....... YUMMM! 

(And thanks! Yes, I know you read this. )

Not Your Best Pick-up Line

Sometimes at mixers people just can't quite get it right.  Did he think he was being clever? Too nervous to say what he tried? I overheard this on TV:

 He:  Has anybody ever told you I have the most beautiful eyes?

She just turned away to talk with somebody else. It wouldn't leave me. There should have been a comeback.  Perhaps,  "Awwwww, no, but maybe someday you can pay someone a big enough bribe to actually get them to say that about you."

I Hate A Cold!

 Lucky me, I've avoided getting one for years. Yesterday I woke up in the middle of the night with an extremely sore throat, enough that my muddled mind started inventing causes for it. None of them made sense. I take that as a sign.

By morning it was a fairly normal sore throat, with the bonus that my voice had dropped a good octave. It was enough that anybody hearing me who knows me were immediately alerted to what's going on. Steve knew without my saying a more than "Good Morning". My PCA client over the phone immediately agreed that I should not visit her and share it - she has plenty of health issues without any assistance in acquiring more. My only concern there is there is up to a 3 day incubation, and I was there Monday, feeling fine, but possibly contagious. Or possibly I picked it up later.

There's the usual stuffy nose now, with kleenex boxes  in high demand. I'd shopped for a bunch over a year ago, and it finally looks like they will need replacing before the weekend. Of course there is a huge supply of fast-food napkins in the car door pockets I could grab, but it's DAMN FRICKING COLD! out there today, as cold as we're had since moving back north. The lakes are even iced over - lightly - but early. Probably safe for squirrels to walk on if they are stupid enough to emerge from snug nests, but everything else recently on it - swans and geese - has flown south. The throat isn't so sore, thankfully, but the voice is still low enough for gender confusion over the phone with a stranger.

Coughing has started, light so far. The good news there is I make a habit of stocking up on sugarless cough drops, and just opened the first of 4 bags this morning. There are still a couple of emptied pill bottles stuffed full of them for easy transport in a purse without spilling all over creation... but just currently not in my purse. Where? Sigh.  Our pharmacy provides fatter bottles for larger pills, great to reuse for cough drops, and ones I can actually open. It takes Steve's hands to open his pill bottles so I don't use them, except to dump collections of sharps in to throw out where they won't cause any problems. I have all kinds of uses for smaller pill bottles I can actually open, once the labels are peeled off.

On the plus side for this cold, I have been getting more sleep, eyes drooping earlier and opening later. Just to stay warm, and avoid struggling with my shoulders, my PJs currently are sweats and polar fleece, since without them plus a blanket I'm chilled and don't warm up. I'm sure they'll be rank by the time I'm ready to go out in public again, but that'll be a few days. I promise I'll change by then.

I have to call a few people I've had contact with the last couple of days, pre-symptoms, just for a warning. They are all younger and should brush it off without problems, but one is caring for a parent just post surgery and may wish to take precautions. I did give her a hug, after all.

Meanwhile I'm not even heading out to bring the recycle bin back from the street, despite strict rules here for doing so. There's a fresh inch of snow that fell yesterday and still sits on everything here including stairs and car, no footprints anywhere, so somebody might figure out we have a reason for leaving it another day or so.

Meanwhile this has been a 5 tissue, three cough drop post, and I'm ready for a nap.

A Different Kind Of A Problem

 This one is totally new to me. In all the years (29) where driving was my career as an independent contractor (IC) I bought so many cars new, straight off the lot that I've mostly lost track. The company I contracted with required undamaged vehicles, no rust, or any thing else which might give their customers reason to believe we weren't trustworthy. Their solution was to mandate replacement after 5 years. With the amount of driving I was doing, that often involved well over 300,000 miles on a vehicle. Total driving for the career was over 2 million. One car went to 400,000. I turned that car over to my sons, and one promptly rolled it. Oh well. His loss.

Minnesota attack deer took out a couple. The last replacement was after I got rear-ended by a school bus while I was stopped at a red light. (Go read Dec. 10, 2013 post for details. Or not.) School bus insurance companies have really good insurance! I still drive the replacement, 12 years later.

Cars age two ways, in my experience. One is accumulated damage, rendering them eventually undriveable. The other is the toll of age (without shelter). Rust, dust, sun, cold, wear on the parts... all get their chances to attack. A car can simply sit and eventually fall apart. This current car only had about 65,000 miles on it before I retired. After that, it went south in winter, north in summer, and otherwise did a whole lot of sitting and very short drives, whether in wet northern summers or in dusty southern winters. Haboobs and hot sun take their tolls, even if it spent ten years avoiding ice and snow. Arizona is hell on rubber. One result is oil leaks requiring expensive replacements. 

I'm not sure of the precise cause of the latest issue, whether something rusted, got gooped up, cracked, or what have you. My seat belt has been getting more and more difficult to click and release. The part coming from the frame by the door has gotten stubborn, requiring me to pull it out enough to slip my shoulder in it, then rock forward, unwinding a bit more belt, rock back to take up the slack, and repeat as long as necessary so I can pull the buckle pieces together. I'm sure anybody watching is thinking about some oversized butterfly nets for the crazy lady.

If that were the only issue, no biggee. But getting it into the buckle between the seats has gotten so difficult that (my bad shoulder of course) has a royal struggle getting it down in to latch. When I have Steve next to me, he can do it, but still with trouble. It does stay latched, and it is only a little less of an issue separating the parts again.

I called the dealership, asking for a price quote on replacing the two parts of the driver's belt. I'd read on line I should expect around $400 to $600 for the set. The dealership came back with $1000!!!!! Just for the driver's side!

No thanks!

Colder weather has settled in, making the  belt more of an issue. I was discussing it with a family member who - bless her - saw the issue more clearly than I did. How about getting seat belt extenders, put then on once and leave them, then hook into the new ends? 

DUH !!!!!

Now Steve has been suggesting getting an extender for his side of the car. I never even thought of doing it for both. But it's gotten more urgent now since I can no longer get my bad shoulder to exert the pressure needed to attach or release mine. I figure, put them on both seats, and the "working" parts will be new and presumably functional. Just put them in and leave them. I could even put tape around the part I want to be sure to remember not to use, like I had to with the parking brake a couple months back. It did take a while, but I actually weaned myself of the habit of reaching to pull the brake over the time it took to get the car into the shop. I can do it again! (BTW the habit to set the brake has returned. I do notice I'm doing it now however.)

I called a national parts chain with a local branch. They had lots of extenders but... none for my car. I called the dealership parts department... and the manufacturer never made one for my model. I went online for a search and found some cheap ones at Walmart... that don't look like the shape of my buckles. Hmmm, maybe too cheap is not the way to go. OK, I tried nationally... and found a site that asks very specific questions about year, model, and which precise location it needs to fit - one for every different seat in the car.They also offered two varieties, a short rigid one, or a longer flexible one, only 2 inches difference between them. This inspired more confidence. The fact that they gave color choices, black or grey, made no difference. I don't care about color, just safety.

I ordered a pair, paid for faster shipping. I don't need to be stuck somewhere trying to decide between safety by torturing my shoulder, or only going places where somebody can put the belt together for me on both ends of the trip. I did the latter last night, with Steve doing it at home, then meeting my son Paul at a Fleet Farm to buy warm winter gloves for him as an early Christmas present. He does come and shovel for us after all, and gets paid for it. He'd mentioned cold hands after finishing his own driveway first the other day. After getting him two different kinds of gloves, (quality check), I had him walk me to the car, get in the passenger side for a moment, and fasten my seat belt before I drove home. Even he had problems!

But I did manage to get out of it after some work once home. It beats having to ask Steve to get dressed for the cold and come out.

Now we wait....

A Day To Remember

It was our delayed Thanksgiving get-together, postponed till Saturday because several members of the combined extended family had to work on the actual holiday.  No biggie, right? We could hold it practically any time, though getting the most of us together made it more special.

But this is Minnesota, and there is a pattern in my previous Thanksgivings that stuff happens. I'm talking mostly weather. If something is planned, it gets super cold, heavy snow, dead heat tapes under a mobile home, plugged plumbing, a sick cat emergency (fatal), or what have you. Not all at once of course, and with placid holidays in between. But I never took Thanksgivings for granted when I was the person hosting. Now if we just had to drive a few miles to some relative, or even more than a few, nothing ever happened that I was made aware of. 

This time it was snow. Or at least that's how it started. We'd just gotten over a snowstorm days earlier that started with rain, then freezing temperatures, and I made sure to keep home, warm, and safe for that, despite it being the official holiday. We already had plans for Saturday anyway, in order to accommodate  the most possible people in our home. Too many had to work Thursday. After the ice and snow I didn't even bother to consider heading out for Black Friday, aside for a couple last minute food purchases for the next day.

The headcount of those planning to come topped out at 22, including us. Some of the advanced food prep was done, the turkey was thawing in the fridge, house messes were getting cleaned up, and I was heavy into the planning stage. Did we have all the needed food groups represented? Now remember, on this holiday above all others, desert is a vital food group. There were a lot of food choices planned that were not on my personal approved diet list, but there still was enough that nobody, least of all me, was going to starve. We were among the lucky this year.

A much more important question was where on earth were we going to put them? It wasn't just tables and chairs, but children were included and despite being a quarter of our sizes, they take up 4 times the space and produce 8 times the volume, especially if they're having fun. I had planned ahead by keeping a series of boxes out of the recycle stream until after everybody went home. It's amazing what three to five young children - depending on who all came - can find to do with free rein over a conglomeration of empty boxes when nobody cared what condition the boxes are in when they left for home, but only how much fun they could invent while destroying them.  I have a family source for cardboard boxes ready to be thrown out, and I'm promised a resupply before end of December.

Once the turkey was out of the oven, sitting on the kitchen island resting before being carved, other baking and cooking commenced in a flurry of activity. My work was mostly done until carving time rolled around. Somebody cooked and mashed potatoes, another made gravy, yet another cooked venison fresh from hunting season in some technique with an unpronounceable name I haven't heard on all the TV cooking shows Steve watches.  The judicious application of juniper berries was a delightful bonus. Hungry people waiting as patiently as possible were pacified with some banana bread /chocolate chip /walnut snacks, mostly resuming their conversations.

I'd known there was much to do last minute. The turkey had to be baked, the house cleaned, dishes washed and counters given that final scrub so food, plates and utensils could be laid out in usable locations. But even before that I had to spend what, due to predicted snow and unexpected side trips, became a 3 hour round trip to pick up Steve's daughter Maria since her car is in the shop and she was coming over to help clean so the total burden of that didn't fall on us. 

Naturally I did the night before what I always do before a big day, obsessed over all the details. This translates into getting 3 hours of sleep. Some times I get luckier and pull another hour out of nowhere. Make a mental note: this figures in later. I was fine to drive in the morning after a light snack and my morning mug of coffee. Due to snow, I topped up the gas tank before leaving town, tucked an extra coat in the back seat, and brought along some of my stuffing muffins for Maria's mom who doesn't travel in this kind of weather, so she'd get a taste of what would be in a goodie bag at the end of the evening. She'd miss the conversations and the chaos, but no need to miss the meal. Maria lives in the same apartment building with her and helps take care of her, years after a stroke which keeps her mom in a wheelchair. She won't visit us since we have no ramp. Occasionally the extended family has get-togethers in that building's party room so she doesn't miss all the fun. It's a long trip for most.

Once home, the work resumed. We'd seen the first flakes as I picked up Maria, exactly as the forecasters had predicted, few and far between. The storm was mostly the southern part of the state and Iowa, with a possibility of 3 inches for where we'd be partying, and possible 18 in southern Iowa. One of the TV weathermen started in the middle of Minnesota and said for every 50 miles going south, add an inch of snowfall. His math didn't quite add up, but at least our roads should be quite drivable. 

Of course, most guests were coming from as far as the south end of the metro. The cancellation calls started coming in. First, the couple bringing deviled eggs pulled out. (Steve had really been waiting for those!) Bad tires for the expected snow.  Then a fellow who was fairly local but who doesn't drive at night due to his vision. We'd already arranged to put him up on the couch overnight and keep him until he had good morning light and presumably much better roads. He'd gotten out of his driveway on his way to pick up pies to bring them (not a cook but he buys great pies!). He turned around after seeing how crazy other drivers were. He didn't feel safe at all. OK, so no pies... except for the little pecan one I picked up on a whim the day before when I went out to get Steve's potatoes. If we had everybody here, as originally planned, we'd need a third pie for desert, but nobody wound up eating pie. It still sits on the counter. 

Then we got a call from another family of four. They don't drive much, mostly take the city bus, so handy where they live, and she worried both about driving in snow and dark. We'd already arranged to turn over my bedroom to them, knowing they had two sleeping bags for the kids who were used to camping already, and I have a bathroom attached to it. So there went the dinner rolls.

Before you think I don't care about more than the food, as hostess I was trying to figure what was important, where gaps could be filled. It turned to to be unimportant, since every food contribution arriving had been sized for a group of 22. We told everybody we knew their safety was important, we'd miss them, and work on getting together over the coming holidays. Meanwhile Steve helped other logistical planning by counting heads remaining - or perhaps seats, since there were folding tables and chairs to be arranged. Two more carfuls were unaccounted for, so he and I both made phone calls. Some adult grandkids from Wisconsin pulled out due to the roads where they were (Italian noodle salad), but the family from the farthest south part of the metro were packing up the kids and getting on their way, and my daughter and her husband would be here soon with the venison. And would be making gravy from turkey drippings for the mashed potatoes Steve was doing. And bring a desert of apple/sweet potato crumble. My youngest wasn't even called because he lives only 5 miles away. So the cranberry fluff salad from his grandmother's recipe would be here, in addition to a shovel-pushing helper, and a surprise banana bread with chocolate chips and walnuts would be set out for an appetizer while guests awaited the the final cooking.

We wound up with a pleasant surprise additional guest, a friend of Maria's who'd been here several times as well as at other extended-family events. Of course we had room! Even if nobody had cancelled, there'd been enough tables and chairs to take care of everybody. She was at loose ends for the day, lived only about 14 miles away. She loves the swans that collect on the lake this time of year, usually staying until just before the lake freezes over before they fly all the way south, if one year's experience here counts. My son had announced as he came in the door that there were about 35 near our end of the lake, in addition of course to the Canada geese which also hang out this time of year. As soon as our additional guest arrived and greeted us, she and Maria walked down to the shore to see the swans.

It might have been a mistake. Not that we'd know about it until later. We might never have proof.

The house was about to get noisy. We have great-grandkids! Three are in the one family who came with kids, only their oldest in school yet. They are why I collected boxes for the party, from just big enough to hold whatever while small enough to pop into others, to big enough to be climbed inside of for whatever the reason of the minute is, and in one case, to get folded into a recliner chair after adding a second box as a footstool. They had a whole open room to play in, since the adults were much fewer than planned and folding tales and chairs stayed folded along a wall.

I know people who hate noisy kids. I divorced one of them. These kids were the sound of joy. Very few things in the room were denied them, one being a lighter which had been overlooked during cleanup. I knew from their last visit that the youngest was fascinated by a curio cabinet keeping him from playing with pueblo pottery, particularly several storytellers, each unique and irreplaceable, treasured if not actual treasures. Last winter he had to be pulled away from it repeatedly while he tried to open the doors. This time I took some left over packing tape and secured the lower door shut in a couple places. He can look all he wants and enjoy them. When he's old enough to figure out how to remove the tape put on again for any future visits, he'll be old enough to understand "No" much better. All three kids did get to listen to the ocean in a large conch shell they will inherit some year, and the reactions were unanimous: giggling! But the boxes claimed their attention again back in the large room. My daughter and granddaughter were there to catch up on news and enjoy/supervise them, so I returned to the kitchen. Still stuff to be done there.

There was a moment when I simply had to excuse myself from the food prep activity and go sit down,  I was overworked and overheated. It was noticed. I was brought some ice water, and when serving started a minute later, I was provided a plate of my choices from the supply line. A bit later, even though I recovered to normal quickly, Maria announced she wasn't going to ask me to drive her home as we had planned. She knew I'd gotten about three hours of sleep the night before, and snow was still accumulating, making the trip even longer. She'd talked to her friend who agreed to take her instead, since she already lived in that direction. We offered something for her extra gas, since I was planning on springing for that with my car anyway. Everything was settled. Riiiighhhht! Uh huh, sure, it's always that easy.

 Even with the cancellations there was a large representation of foods, and nobody felt any lack of variety. The great grands had gone early, and conversation continued for quite some time. The food brought was either eaten, sent home with various people including as care packages, or left here as care packages and put in our fridge. We finally had to enlist my son to rearrange the fridge to fit everything in without squishing or dumping things. 

People were getting ready to go home. Or so we had planned.

The friend providing the ride I was relieved from doing started rummaging thorough her purse for her keys. Then her jacket, one of those with zipper pockets inside and out every few inches. No keys! Now the house got searched, along with the path the two used outside for smoking breaks, than back into the house and the boxes the kids had played with, the crevices in every single piece of furniture, floors underneath, the trash just in case, and then the hunt started over, and repeated another time. I called my granddaughter, now at home, and asked if by any chance her kids had found them at some point and played with them, possibly even bringing them home. Nope.

Outside was examined. We knew the keys were removed from the car, since my son was outside when her car rolled up and he heard the key fob beep as it was locked. That didn't stop everybody from trying to figure out some way, any way, they could have gotten locked in the car. Yes, I know, but after nearly an hour, desperation was setting in. She had been pulling things from the back seat... maybe after the beep?

The sidewalk was checked out, plus beyond its paved edges, since that had gotten swept of snow earlier. Could they have fallen along the edge and gotten buried under a broomful? Could they have fallen under the edge of the car in the snow after beeping the doors locked and now be covered over? Flashlights were brought out and another hunt began. No results.

One persistent question never laid to rest was concerning the walk down to the lake to watch the swans. Had they fallen out of whichever pocket they might have been put in, either on the way to/from, or once there waking around off the street area? Our guest was becoming more and more upset and everything we tried, even the second and third times, brought up the negative answer. She stressed it wasn't just the loss of the keys - there were fixes for that... eventually. But there was something on that key ring which was a rare sentimental treasure from a deceased beloved parent, and she didn't have many of those. 

Eventually we quit looking for the keys and started problem solving for getting her car on the road... so I could eventually get mine out. She could at least get into her house if she could break into her car and get the garage door opener. My son volunteered to drive her home and back - in the only set of usable wheels left until her car was moved. There was a second set of keys there, though she'd have to ask where once she got there. The plan first though was to locate a wire coat hanger to open the door. The closest one was at my son's house. When he returned with one, it wasn't working as well as advertised.

Next and last resort was to call the county officer's night shift, explain the problem, and ask them to come open the car, after sufficient ID was proffered, of course. Never mind the little Catch-22 of her having her wallet with ID tucked in its secret hiding place... inside the locked car. They got enough information over the phone to come over promptly with a gizmo to unlock her door. Or try anyway. Maybe he was new on the job or hadn't graduated to his uniform out of a juvie background stealing cars. At least enough jiggling around of car door innards was done to result in the car alarm going off. I was informed, when people came inside to warm up a bit, that neighbors - an unspecified number - had called in an attempted car theft. I guess nobody actually looked out to notice the first squad car. They apparently stopped calling once the second squad rolled in.

Meanwhile the (rookey?) had stopped trying and my son decided to try the coat hanger again. Between the three of them, the door was opened, the car battery disconnected to stop the alarm... eventually, as some special sort of needed ratchet was provided to accomplish something else needed to get everything done until a real key appeared. My son paid close attention for the anticipated restart later. No point calling them back. Now at least she had her garage opener and wallet with drivers license, so when she returned with her spare key she could legally drive.  That trek took over another half hour on bad roads, and - of course, since Murphy lives forever  - reconnecting the battery under the hood once they got that lifted while there was enough battery life left to find the cable -(but only just enough, so put half a dozen D cells on the shopping list) - they had to turn the car alarm off again by using the key the system recognized.

Whew! Who knew car theft was so complicated? Oh wait, I'm not giving away any secret techniques here, am I? Just in case, DO NOT STEAL CARS! Yes, that includes you. So don't start!

This morning I managed to verify everybody who left our house made it home safely, even if hours later than planned. As snow melts, I will be checking for a stray set of keys to show up. I'll also put a notice on the mailroom bulletin board if they are found as to who's looking for them. At least here when they plow they don't take the snow away, just wait for spring melt. If the keys are in there, eventually they should show up. I hope so.

Codependency

 Way back when, you know, those years when I was in a support group learning how to identify my own feelings, hopefully to form better, more healthy relationships, while healing from an abusive one, "codependency" was a bad thing. You wanted to learn to avoid it. It meant you were so dependent on the relationship with another that you didn't even know who you were without it.You were merely reactive to whatever and however the other person felt and acted.

Many years have passed, those goals reached, Steve and I have a very loving, healthy relationship. But let me repeat: many years have passed. We're not spring chickens any more. Our bodies have been discovering many ways to age ungracefully, non-functionally, often painfully.

Recently we have rewritten the "rule" about codependency being a bad thing. In terms of simply coping with life, we are figuring out how to fill each other's gaps, if you will.  The most obvious is our bodies have aged in different ways, but together we can accomplish what one used to. In Steve's case, he has difficulties in reaching things low on the ground or floor. A grabber stick - and there are three in the house - can only cope with certain kinds of things. But I have kept the flexibility to bend over and reach the floor to pick things up which still need fingers to accomplish. What is painful for him is just normal motion for me.

On the other hand, I have extreme difficulty reaching things up high, and the definition of "how high is high" keeps changing for me. But Steve can still do that easily. In that sense, we have become codependent. Both of us not only need the other, but are happy we can do things for the other. Even beyond our affection, it's just nice to still feel useful in some ways.

Of course the downside is knowing we have to deal with the lack of the other on what - fortunately - are still rare occasions. But the knowledge hovers out on the margins that for one of us that day will come when we are no longer "we" but merely "the remaining half of we". What we can no longer do by ourselves will have to get done some other way or not at all. 

This got driven home earlier this week. Steve had to go to the ER for a still unidentified pain. All the tests run were ambiguous. Not ruling things out, just not giving answers. He was kept overnight for observation, given some great pain control via IV, and another test was scheduled for the next day. I finally went home for some sleep, to return the next morning. This, of course, bumped into one of the things I can't do easily (meaning without extreme pain and possible dislocation) by myself, especially in cold weather.

I can only partially dress myself these days. In summer the layers are single, the sleeves shorter, the movements required much easier.  In cold weather I dress in layers, long sleeves under other long sleeves. They have friction against each other that cloth across skin doesn't. I get as far as head through the neck and hands to the ends of the sleeves... and there I'm stuck in a contorted bundle of fabric. My shoulders snag everything, the sleeves twist, my head catches the back of the collar, and I go marching off in a contorted position looking like a warped scarecrow to find Steve. He sees what needs to get pulled where while I can hold the inside sleeves in place at my wrists. We both laugh as much as you would watching us,  because it is so silly, but together it gets done and I'm ready to go face the world, even if that world is only fixing breakfast and coffee and watching the morning news. It might also be work, or some medical appointment, or shopping.

I was facing a morning of no Steve, and I was the one with the car to get him home. There was only one solution: don't get undressed! Fortunately my top set of layers are loose and comfortable. Being a geezer, I have frequently taken naps during the day in front of the TV or with my laptop open and... waiting. No tight spots, no irritations, unlike other parts of my wardrobe.  Now remember that I have no problems reaching low things, so I easily exchanged sweatpants for PJ bottoms, and had a solid night's sleep. My top outer layer was loose polar fleece, so no wrinkles to show, and fortunately no dirt. It even still held the sticky-badge that got me back inside the ER to visit Steve early in the morning. I'd needed it the previous evening when I left in search of supper while the staff kept dithering for hours about what to do with Steve that evening. Not only were there no rooms available for admitting him, the ER was also full.We'd already waited for three hours that morning from walking in the doors to getting a spot in the ER.

I returned to the ER the next morning after having breakfast and packing real food to have during the day as needed so I could stay with Steve. I got greeted with the news they were sending him home! His pain had disappeared overnight, fortunately, and none of the tests pointed to anything to fix. We were out of there in the time it took to print up findings and recommendations, and remove his IV line. He's still pain free a day later, catching up on real sleep he missed, and eating normal things for him. I'm catching up on missed TV shows via the DVR, and following the snow news, grateful to be home hours before any of that started here, and determined to be staying out of it until I can get somebody to come shovel for us... after it stops later

There will be much to be thankful for this holiday. And that absolutely includes our codependency.

Suicide By Kitchen

Whoa, whoa,  settle down. It's mostly a joke, and my apologies to anybody who needed a trigger warning - though if you needed one you've likely already skipped this post. But these days it's how I describe the several days of intense cooking prep needed in order to make my current version of stuffing muffins. Too many parts of me ache, and will continue for a while. The name is my reminder to question before the next time I undertake these whether it's really worth it. I happen to love those little boxed microwave meals, or mixing yogurt and fruit, or making a sandwich.... Steve is the cook in this family.

So far the family says it is worth MY work to make these. But a word of warning here - real warning. If you're starting now to make these for Thanksgiving yourself, you're already too late, unless you come up with a lot of adaptations. You might make it for Christmas, if you serve turkey and stuffing then. Or even Easter, the third time of the year I bother to do a turkey for. Or did.

Mostly if I want bird, it's the already cooked rotisserie chickens available in a lot of stores, still hot and served in a plastic bag. I will buy these throughout the year, and that's my start for making this stuffing. Once everybody's had their favorite pieces of the birds, there will be skin, juice, and meat left on the bones to deal with. I'll freeze a couple bags of the unwanted stuff, then haul them out and pop into a slow cooker (in lieu of a stew pot.) Add water to cover everything, and simmer through the day. Strain the bits through a colander or whatever stands up to the heat, and pop that broth into a container to freeze. Then you separate out the bits of meat - carefully! - and again, freeze those, and pop the rest in the garbage. Doing this throughout the year gives you stock and meat, once thawed. I hope you have a large enough freezer. It also works to include your turkey carcass(es). We bought a second freezer. This is labor intensive, but spread out through the year, even my shoulders hold up to it... mostly. I usually give them a few days off from other heavy tasks before and afterwards. But that's just me. You do you.

I do not add salt anywhere in the process - pretty much everything already has plenty. But if your taste buds need more salty flavor, or even more bird flavor, that time in the cooker before cleaning and freezing can be an opportunity to add chicken bouillon. Salt is variable in the brands.

The next big task is shopping. You need a huge pan for mixing this batch, but bowls usually aren't big enough, or are tippy, so I use the graniteware turkey roaster I inherited from my mom. You can still buy them, even if the stores try to sell everybody flimsy aluminum pans which won't hold a turkey without dropping it on the floor if you're not careful. You'll also need several muffin pans, whatever basically fills two shelves in your oven completely, so you can get by with the fewest number of cycles of baking, saving power and $$. Then stock up on cupcake papers, more than what you think you'll need. When decorated ones are available, they can be festive. Or just pick colors that look appetizing. (So far I've never seen a design with a screaming terrified turkey on it. No, that's not a suggestion. Just an observation.)

During the year I look for sales on certain things that store well, like craisins, aka dried cranberries. I used to be able to find orange flavored ones, but haven't seen them in stores for a long time. So I make sure to pick up a can of frozen OJ pulp, and somewhere in my stores of equipment will have kept a largish container with a lid that can hold the dried fruit, the can of OJ, and just a half- can-full of water. I like to concentrate the OJ flavor that the dried cranberries soak up a couple days ahead of baking time, so that's all the water I add despite directions for making juice. If you're stuck with pre-made OJ, even as fussy as I am, I'd use it anyway. This recipe process is adaptable as it has to be. ( My daughter hates that. She want's measurements! Really, just add more sage!)

Given lots of freezer space, I shop ahead for bread. Not just any bread. For those who can't have gluten, good luck finding the kind that works for you, or find your own substitute carbs to soak up the flavors. For each batch of stuffing, I get a 1 1/2 pound loaf of whole wheat, and a 1 pound loaf of cinnamon raisin bread. (I might add more of the latter.) Unlike a lot of recipes, I do not just throw together dried heels of bread. This is fresh and stays fresh. When I have the time, but at least a week ahead of the big event, I tear each loaf into bits, pour them back into the bags they came from, seal it back up and put it back in the fridge or freezer until the day before cooking. If you want to start in July for November, no problem, Just keep it sealed. Try not to squish the bags of crumbs between then and using. They have a lot to absorb ahead of them.

There is shopping that you'll want/need to do much closer to cooking time, including herbs, eggs, celery, onions, and butter. For each 2 1/2 pounds of bread, you'll need to chop and saute either a large yellow onion, or their equivalent, in butter or margarine. I also - separately - do the same with a celery heart or the same amount in long stalks. I start with the onions since I like the flavor when they brown. Celery just doesn't brown and takes much longer anyway. I give its pan its own butter/equivalent. Each full recipe usually gets 1 to 2 sticks of whichever I have on hand, divided between the two veggies as needed. In poor years, budget wise, I've used onion flakes instead of fresh, and celery seed or beau monde instead of fresh. I don't work with garlic so that's always powder. Not salt.

Each thing that gets added to the bread crumbs gets mixed in thoroughly. Each moist addition gets the mix a bit more messy, so paper towels are handy. I did experiment with chopped pecans but they weren't that popular. No biggie, more for me in other uses. Next to last are the spices. A lot of people like and have fresh ones. I don't. They spoil before I get to them. I like garlic powder, powdered thyme, rosemary after torturing it in a mortar and pestle to break them and release flavor. They are such hard little things. But by far the most important is sage. If you taste your mix (before you add the eggs) your sage will seem stronger than it is after baking. Some years it seems just right, others it tends to disappear by the time it's cooked and eaten.

I save the eggs for last, always. 6 of them well beaten go into the mix and like everything else, mixed by hand. (Again, paper towels are handy. You will be really goopy.) It's the only way to be sure everything is evenly distributed. Being raw is why tasting happens before the eggs go in. The reason they go in at all is they keep everything  together in the muffin cups. Otherwise all you get are crumbs.

One batch makes around 4 to 5 dozen, depending on how full you fill each cup. I like to pat the raw stuffing gently down into each paper liner where everything is touching the adjacent pieces. You can pile it so it's flat across the top or mounded. If it's flat it will bake for about 30 minutes at 350. If rounded, give it 35. If any spots in the tins are empty, fill them half full of water so the tins don't warp. When they are cool, I pop the muffins back into the bread bags I emptied and twist tie the ends to keep them moist, whether for a few hours on the counter, or days in the fridge, or even weeks/months in the freezer. They do last well that way, though a bit of a warm-up is nice. I generally figure on having two for every guest. Some will ignore them, others will take more and work to sneak a few out with them after the meal. Once I know they really like them I plan ahead for gift-packages for them if the meal is at my house, or just leave them behind with whoever the host is, bags and all, keeping my serving plate/bowl. I have learned to leave some in the home freezer before anybody ever sees one, because we both love them and each one is essentially a tiny complete meal in itself. (But shhh, don't tell them there might be more!)

Meanwhile I just pulled out the last of the batch of what started with 6 pounds of bread yesterday to cool. We each had two muffins last night for supper and two just now for lunch. I'll need to dig up a few extra bags as some will be going home with people after a very big dinner this weekend. I'm only doing turkey and stuffing. The rest is pot luck. 

Oh, and this year, for Christmas.... Steve is baking a ham! Next turkey day - as there is a second turkey in the freezer - I'll think about doing this again... really, really, really hard! (And more sage next time.)

Repercussions

 The morning after can be a much better time to assess injuries from a fall. The emotions have worn off, parts moved - or not so much - and sleep quality can provide better information.

Within a couple hours I knew one foot had issues. After much discussion with myself, plus rereading the label, I added a second Tylenol to my evening dose. I still limp, but the pain is on the outside of the foot about an inch behind the toes. I also am not going anywhere - not one more step -  without shoes with the proper arch supports in them, though technically this isn't in the arch. But with the arch supported properly, the rest of my foot is getting less play with each step. Morning meds again doubled the Tylenol, and we'll see how it goes. Steve worries that I need to go to the ER. What are they  going to do? Diagnose a break, worst case, put me in a cast and pretend I'm capable of using crutches with my shoulders?

Riiiiight! That'll work. Uh-huh, no problem. Maybe next year, eh?

Of all the bumps it's the only one still vying for attention. If I push around hard enough I can locate a bruise on my forehead that's too small to even color the skin. It's a classic case of, "Does it hurt  when I do this?" Followed immediately by "Well, then, don't do that, dummy!"

I did locate a tiny landing spot on my right elbow overnight. Not even worth a bandaid, and barely worth the astonishment that, again, the parts of me that went down hardest aren't the ones that hurt. Maybe it's padding on the side that landed first. Maybe I actually did lose some memory of the event during the event.  You do read that it can happen. I'm not going to worry about it, just assess the now of it, and decide if any action needs to be taken. The only thing that occurs is possibly putting an extra arch support in the one shoe to help keep weight off and add stability when I walk, which will be as little as I can get away with. There is always the consideration of how long the walk is from my recliner to the bathroom, right? Plus we're supposed to be getting a package today in the mail, so I'll have a reason to check out any possible impediments to my driving. I won't be walking there and back.

On the other hand, I did call the local police station this morning to talk to their captain. I wanted to be sure they knew how impressed we were with the way (turns out his name is Zachary) performed last night. Everything was spot on. His concerns were appropriate to the occasion, his ability to listen was perfect in hearing my specific needs, and his solution in the lift was an amazing show of strength without bravado.  He made sure I was OK before he left and dismissed the ambulance. When I finished talking with his captain, she informed me that my commendation would go into his file.

Steve and I both think he earned it.