Don't Mess With My Granddaughter!!!!

In a chat with my granddaughter, we got to discussing  various kinds of SPAM salesmanship. All of you who have never received such a missive from total strangers, however selfless and noble their intentions, can just skip reading any further. This will never be pertinent in your lives. Obviously you live in a totally different universe. Enjoy your stays there. For the rest of you.....

The following came in their inbox, then passed on to me to share.  Her contributions to the following are in BOLD and in "quotes."

"Hi (name deleted), this is Hana a from MN Remodeling. We are offering remodel estimates this week at no cost. Would you be interested?

Today @ 4:36 PM."

My granddaughter has not only her own sense of humor, but her own spunk when dealing with offers like these at the end of a tough day at the Day Care followed by piling her own brood in the car after locking up behind the last kids, with or without errands needed on the way home necessary to deal with supper, bedtime baths, and all the other impediments to plow through before she gets her own chance to unwind and prepare for the next day's rerun. We're not even needing to mention that her family rents their abode, doesn't own, and a remodel is years away from any remotely likely life agenda that might possibly concern her.

"Hi Hana,

Unfortunately after the raccoon incident of 2024, we are no longer legally permitted to remodel anything larger than a birdhouse. The county got involved after the jacuzzi was installed in the attic and the emotional support ferret escaped into the ventilation system. We are currently under observation by three separate agencies and a woman named Denise from Menards.

That being said, if your team has experience from structurally questionable medieval-themed basements and removing glitter from HVAC systems, we may be interested. Please respond with your favorite dinosaur and whether you've ever been banned from a Bass Pro Shops."

I am refraining from naming her as the originator of the above replay. I'm sure Hana already has all the information she needs to identify the sender of the reply and likely a team of lawyers preparing a decision on the desirability of whatever their chosen response is. Personally I think either their dog ate the ferret or one of the kids is keeping a huge secret suitable for therapy in their thirties. Regardless, I dearly love them all! I have carefully refrained from inquiring as to the precise impetus behind her thoughtful reply that particular day. But hot damn! That's my girl!!!!!

Slings

 OK, I do concede they are necessary.  Sometimes. Under certain circumstances. But can we please draw the line to where it says they have to actually BE Slings?  Pretty Please? Cream & sugar on it? Rube Goldberg contraptions just DO NOT QUALIFY!!!!  Yes, I'm firm on that!

OK, I can - when in a very unlikely mellow mood - which is seldom these days I admit - allow that the aforementioned contraption does ever-so-slightly resemble that thing called a sling. So does a tricorner folded big dishtowel. One just adds the proper knots in the effective places to help keep it in place and performing its function, and the resemblance is there. Resemblance is all I'll give you at the moment. If it still isn't wearable, how an anybody claim it has function?

Day before yesterday I dug around in a kitchen towel drawer, pulled out a "clean" folded dishtowel, refolded it into sling shape in hopes of sling function, and wore it... all the way to the local pharmacy, in hopes of getting a slightly more official looking replacement than that old towel. Comfort was the primary goal. I mostly got that. Function was iffy at times. I bought a new sling, the cheaper of two available in that store, folded up inside a small cardboard box.  Why go all out on expenses with that awful track record?

It was comfortable for a couple minutes. Steve adjusted things and function joined in the new game. We went to Arby's next door for a sandwich each, and the sandwiches eagerly joined in the game of ... decorating the new sling. 

Sighhhhh.

But you knew that was where I was going with that comment, didn't you?

At least the sandwich was still yummy, a Greek gyro with just a bit of extra cucumber sauce. Just a bit. Not even a lot of staining... I think. Laundry will tell us later. Right now I'm wearing it and don't actually care about any new color scheme. 

I didn't, as a matter of fact, wear it all night through. It did become annoying by that time, and the towel adaptation took the night shift. It was a comfy night, sleeping straight through, and I'm still deciding whether finding the towel wadded up in my opposite hand in the morning was, in fact, a factor in that assessment of comfort. I can in full honesty claim the arm did in no way ache in the morning... until, that is, the store-bought sling took over its assigned duty again, and I'm not talking decorating. I also was able to get it on and off by myself without problems, so Steve got the benefit of extra sleep from the plan.

I am looking for a single large bag. I do plan to return the black contraption to the surgeon next Thursday when I go in for my post surgery assessment. They asked for it back after the first replacement surgery, but the problem was they waited till 3  months after surgery to even bring it up. (Seriously: Who on earth or any other planet could possibly tolerate wearing it that long?) It had by then long since gone into the trash and presumably been deposited in some landfill somewhere.... Hmmm, ever wonder what a landfill's rainbow bridge really looks like? Or wait: smells like?) All except the little red ball added to the contraption in order to keep my hand strength up were long gone. Heck, fighting with my keyboard or even the handle of my coffee cup are enough to accomplish that. I fibbed a bit and said the ball went in the garbage too. She chuckled and assured me that wasn't a big issue, they usually replace those with a fresh (sanitary?) one for the next user.  I do suppose I could wash the ball... before the grands and great-grands are over here to play with it and whatever the current accumulation is, with or without any doggy or squirrel contributions to the yard microclimate, but why bother? The little ones are in daycare and EVERYTHING still goes in at least one of their mouths. What would I be saving them from by washing a little rubber ball? A hug from Great Grandma? Whatever got knocked off a leaf on my plant table as the ball bounced off the edge of the pot? Whatever their shoes dragged in when they arrived from home and crossed the newly mown grass here on the way to the door? Gracious! One of them would already have plucked and eaten a blade of it on their way up the stairs.

What will be happening at the doctor's office that first checkup, besides proof of life, (your choice, mine or his), is noting how many of my "dissolvable" stitches have or haven't lived up to their name yet, or whether all is sealed up without infection, or what amount of movement is back in that joint. I'm sure somebody will be sure to have checked that there really is another person with me to drive since I likely will still be on Oxy that soon post surgery. Yes, I'm only taking one 5 mg tablet first AM and one last PM, accompanied by a Tylenol each time, and supplemented (likely) by a solitary Tylenol mid day if needed, with a total of 26 pills or 13 days, starting from returning home after surgery. I won't be doing PT yet, though I will be moving the arm a bit already, especially for "hygiene". They insist on using that word and only that word because somebody in some family will likely fall over in dead shock when another family member uses a more typical word which plainly describes what the writer of the instructions is too wimpy to write out and/or too chicken to ask how to spell. Anyway, that's how I envision it happening and I'm sticking to it!!! (Yes, color me a fan of the ridiculous.) Especially now that I have finally figured out how to spell "hygiene".  Hey, these days meeting those little goals counts! Allow me some pride for Pete's sake! Better yet, do it for MY SAKE! I've been working here!!!! "Fun" is a word reserved for when I can be driving again! So.... sometime next month, after my pills wear out and well before Steve's surgery, because he'll be the one needing a driver then.

My biggest decisions then will be what to wear based on weather and "hygiene" needs, and what kind of food to bring along as opposed to hitting a fast food joint. If Steve wants company there will be a "what shall I read?" decision. The decisions I'm really looking forward to are which iris I transplant and into which bed with space left?  I'll need a single arm with mobility and strength by then. The marking stakes are going well, now with pale blue tall iris blooming. I should have about 6 more colors in the circle bed I hope to bloom soon so I can plan for those. Move or stay?  And then daylillies  need marking because of promises to share, and weeds to pull when things settle, and......... Yesterday I was already outside with the hose keeping the recently moved ones healthy, plus browsing online catalogues where a gift certificate was promised......

But hey...lunchtime!

Some Things Are Going Right!

 I know, all that frustration makes it seem like nothing is doing well. But there is some good stuff happening on the home front. Let's start with the garden. Remember last year when I couldn't give rhubarb away for free? Suddenly this year I have two neighbors who've been asking for and taking some. My lawn mower's parents are one, and a family across the street are another. This of course is on top of my having had Paul dig up two full plants so I could take them to a friend who loves rhubarb for baking. Miracle of miracles, she even had one of her grown sons home that day with some time to dig holes, plant, and water them, before he went to work. Last time I looked, her new plants were doing well. That later day was when I also dropped off some pale blue iris for her to plant. She's been asking for the iris for a couple years, and managed twice to kill them without getting them anywhere near in the ground first.  Hmmmm, some interesting cause-and-effect at work, eh? That second day her same son was home, again with time,  and the iris were also planted per my instructions!

Yeee haaaaa!  (Now we'll see if anybody remembers to water.....)

More good garden news: Everything I've planted this spring, including trans-planted to a different site, is thriving in my own garden spots.  So far one thing is on order, a very unusual plant  but also very inexpensive, so I fully expect another year or two before see the blossom results. Meanwhile I ordered some wooden tongue depressors. Together with colored pencils and clear tape folded over that will work for marking "this plant right here blooms in this color" when it's time to dig and relocate later in the season.

I fully gave up on my gawdawfulll hospital "sling".  I put up with the first one for a longer time, but my body has been reacting to the 2nd one sooner than before and I really and truly hate itching. So I dug out an old dish towel, folded it into a triangle, knotted corners together, forced it over my head (fun!) and have been using it to keep my arm somewhere close to where it's supposed to be, hopefully for a few more weeks. It's not perfect but it IS TOLERABLE!!! Meanwhile the local pharmacy opens soon and Steve will be driving us up up there to  see - because these guys specialize in service -  if they can come up with something between the comfort of a towel and the sturdiness of the rigid poking plastic torture chamber. Fingers crossed. I'm NOT going back to the hospital one but I do see the point of more firm restrictions of arm movement for the next few weeks. The staff will know and have no qualms about emerging from behind their counters and guiding me straight to whichever necessary item is my necessary item du jour.  I will happily pay for that service, especially since it's semi-free. I just have to wait a couple extra hours till they open to get it taken care of. I can be patient, right? Right? C'mon, just say "YES" and we can get on with this. 

Just two more hours or so and suddenly I'll look up and reflect, "Pain? What pain? When did that go away? Was it when I was watching the morning news from the airport? You know, that part where they were showing off a new robot bartender in a new gaming section, that bit where it had to shake the cup of beverage and ice but apparently wasn't programmed to put a lid on the cup first? Yep. it might have been then, come to think of it. I hope they put that sequence in their permanent blooper files! It was so unrepentently, spectacularly wrong Wrong WRONG!!!! Hmmm, I wonder if the stuff splashing all over the counter damaged the gizmo's robotic bartender arm too at the time, or it just ran out of go-juice? And was the counter stained for good? Because I'm sure not washing it!!! Oops, nobody slip on the ice there..... Is there a bartender somewhere here? Anywhere? Janitor...? Lawyer? I hear a lot of money went into making this place....

But yeah, I'm pretty sure that was when the arm pain went away..... for a bit.

Or maybe it was just waiting long enough after the Oxy got swallowed spent in chasing down typos that fixed it?

Or..... "Server still not found...."  Oh yeah, Steve remembers an email... work being done somewhere, no internet..... was that till after supper?  Hooo boy !!!! Hmmm, the garden needs a  drink..... Uhh, apparently so does my shirt... and these shoes..... oops. I'm going to pretend that was a mistake.... want to join?

Noting Differences, Not Just Swearing At Them...As Much

OK, more details. First shoulder surgery:  I'll start with the waking up part., smooth and easy, not a care in the world. The second time around I woke fighting, not just noting people were talking around and over me. I was convinced I wasn't breathing. I had to force my diaphragm to expand and contract, suck in air, expel the spent fumes. It didn't feel like I was doing it naturally, and worse, nobody was noticing. I tried to tell people I wasn't breathing but the person next bed over, on the other side of the curtain, needed attention. Nobody noticed me even when I managed to push a word out, to sound an alarm. I knew the anesthetic could affect my lungs, so I didn't dare let my attention lapse from controlling my own breathing. It  took several terrified minutes before I felt breathing would continue without my consciously working at it.

Not my idea of a good time. Nor of being looked after. Obviously I survived the experience, but I hope never to repeat it.

It's not the same as forgetting details. After all, who  could forget thinking they couldn't breathe? I forgot I had to wait 7 days post surgery before being able to remove a sticky dressing in order to get a complete shower. I had to call the doc's office and ask them when it was OK. 7 full days. I am so yearning to rinse a ton of stinging salt off me. Summer sweat is here! But the incision needs a full 7 days to seal completely, to fully keep germs out. Infection is their one big worry, the thing most likely to cause implant failure.  As the patient allergic to medical adhesive who once peeled adhesive tape away after surgery, and both watched and felt it peel my skin off with it, it's kind of a big deal for me. I insist that EKG stickers get an alcohol wipe before the staff forget where one was stuck. I may be the only person who isn't actually amused by looking like I just "enjoyed" carnal relations with an octopus. The one time I lost so much skin with the tape it took a week extra to heal, and alcohol swabs were required to prevent infection starting.

But Hurray! Tomorrow is full shower day!

Another difference is pain. I started in with Oxy the first time in the hospital because it was recommended, if that's what you call a hand holding one out to you along with some water. and it indeed did prevent pain successfully..... Or maybe..... I just took it third day in, everything else wore off and I needed it. So I'm doing a morning and evening dose now, knowing my body is starting to complain. Last time there were more tablets than in this bottle,  30 then, 20 now, so I'm waiting to see if I will need the previous dose, which seemed to wear off simultaneously with need. Mostly any pain this time is when the straps don't seem to be holding my shoulder high enough. It feels like it's pulling apart, and the mirror shows a strong low slant instead of level shoulders. While some straps dig painfully in, others are too loose. I pull what/where I can. No happy medium. Where they dig into my neck the hard plastic scratches. Same with shoulder blades. I hate this "sling" contraption worse than the previous one, but I figure mostly that's less skin protection from summer fabrics.  OK, I asked for that by waiting for a warmer season, but that was for ease in bathroom duty. Is any of this making sense? This may well be why I'm not legal to drive for a few days or weeks.

Today I put on very baggy shorts and didn't need all the assistance moving clothing. Steve seemed a bit disappointed by that, but I noticed he didn't seem to miss the constant waking out of a sound sleep! Or maybe he just likes turning it into our private game, like I do. Either way, he has thanked me for interrupting an unpleasant dream, so there's that, anyway.

There are still parts of the contraption which dig painfully into my arm, especially with any movement. Losing it will be a joy! The ultimate goal will be having enough pain meds to match pain supplied.

One benefit from past experience has been learning the value of grocery deliveries. Not just talking getting it to the yard, but up the porch stairs, or even inside the front door.  Especially with gas prices right now. Part of my OT before being allowed to leave the hospital was demonstrating getting groceries up the stairs. Safely! So... sideways or even backwards. AND THIS DOESN'T EVEN START WITH PLANS TO REPLACE THE NOW UNSAFE FRONT PORCH, A WHOLE 'NOTHER TOPIC SAVED FOR A DAY WHEN I CAN FIGURE OUT I'M DOING FULL CAPS BEFORE I HAVE TO DELETE / RETYPE!

Second Verse, (Not) Same As The First! !

First, expect typos and worse. I just deleted everything I just wrote - no clue how - and am trying to recall what I was writing. Shoulder #2 is fixed, healing in its contraption to prevent movement or comfort plus all illusions of competence, and from the moment the IV ports and nerve block went in, everything was different from last time except for the side, hospital, and surgeon.  My only comfort at times like this is having an excuse. Plus Steve doesn't tell my he's upset when I stare swearing at whatever latest thing is going wrong!

I just had to reinvent another paragraph! Arrrrggggghhhhhh!

Lesson one: all is different when you lose the strong side, and I'm very much a lefty, the side in the contraption now.

I am able to do some things, such as the aforementioned swearing. In fact, competence is growing! I made coffee, though only half a cup.The rest of breakfast was all finger food. Luckily I planned for that. Triscuits, banana chips, and chocolate chips. No scolding! There have to be a few benefits to this, right?

On the other hand I can wake up freezing because the house was very warm when I went to sleep in the middle of some show (???) and woke in the wee hours without blankets. Too groggy to remember I needed a bathroom assist with relocating pants to wake Steve first for his favorite part of being able to help me brought the predictable results. Luckily by then I got my brain in gear, did necessary things in necessary order with necessary assistance, and returned for necessary sleep with a much needed blanket. 

(You thought I was going to repeat "necessary" again, didn't you? Instead, after replacing ALL the "r"s with necessary "e"s I changed course.) In the meantime I got much more practice with swearing at stock reports and some weird kind of notifications which keep intruding on my screen from the right side. Note I never use those, don't give a flying fuck how stocks are doing, am not invested in them nor ever wished to be, and have no earthly idea why they keep popping out. Same with the bloody notifications. I have managed to figure out how to get rid of them - DANG IT AGAIN! - for a minute or so.

They have persuaded me to hang it up for now.  I'm fine... sort of.

Stages Of Waking

Dreams are funny things. By funny I don't mean laughing-funny, I mean weird-funny. I'm one of those people who often wakes out of a dream and thus remembers some of it for a very brief while. A few minutes later I'm aware of having had one but the details.... rarely recalled, just a feeling, an awareness I had been dreaming. More than that is unusual. Occasionally later in the day something will prompt that feeling to return, but totally without any context.

This morning is a good example, though bits of memory exist. The main part of the dream was about swimming across a wide river I identified as the St. Croix, somewhere around Stillwater. as judged by wideness and how populated it was, though all landmarks were missing It was just a flat, calm river, brownish water somehow clear, not dirty. The swim was totally enjoyable. There had been a point to swimming and who I was swimming with, something to accomplish, but already fading.

I was there with people I know. Who? No clue, just identified as people I knew and was talking with during the swim. Who expects logic in a dream? I don't, during the dream or in retrospect. But at some point we were done swimming and it was time to get out of the water. I needed to call my parents.

So I did, partly while still in the river, partly up on dry land. I complimented them on having such a nice river to swim in. It never occurred to me to question why this was their river of course, just something to say while I was checking in.

Around that time, the real world started to intrude. An actual thunderstorm was going on outside, welcomed in an awake state to water newly planted flowers in the gardens so I didn't have to haul a hose around later in the real day. It was expected and welcomed, as well as interrupting the dream. Rolling over kicked my bad shoulder into complaint, completing waking me up out of the dream, and the few steps to the bathroom progressed through a series of ideas as I finished shedding the dream. First, I was glad it was a nice call with my parents.  The sudden change in head position produced a bit of vertigo, where I bounced into the wall next to the door frame and had to cling for a couple seconds instead of falling, coupled with it occurring to me to recall my actual age and wonder if I'm this old, how old can my parents be? Now stable in balance and again walking normally toward my first morning goal, I realized  both of my parents had died over a decade earlier.  Our phone call hadn't happened.

Yep, there it was. I was now fully awake, back in the real world, aware of the needs of this particular day, and enjoying listening to rain on the roof. It was still in the one-o'clock hour though I'd never remember just where, my shoulder ached, it a was time I could take my thyroid pill but still had to wait for my Tylenol another hour to kill the ache if still needed, and wait for daylight to check the rain guage to see how much rain we'd have gotten by then. Since I was now fully aware, what was on the TV, recorded since I went to bed? I needed to change position to a sitting one, meaning the room with the television. Or maybe back to sleep?  Or maybe I should blog first, since I had a topic? If I went back to sleep it would have vanished in its entirety.

Hey, at least it wasn't one of those dreams where I couldn't find where the car was parked! Even while in bed during those, a part of me knew I wouldn't be able to walk that far in order to locate my car wherever it was, as these dreams happened before my knee replacements. Those themes were the usual way my brain was getting used to my retirement, taking away my car, my ability to identify streets and towns I needed to go to, nor could I read the labels on the packages so I could tell where to deliver them. I still recall one in a dream going to Appleton but nobody would tell me if it was the one in Minnesota or in Wisconsin, and I needed to hurry! And whatever building I happened to be inside of, there was never an acceptable bathroom to be used, lacking stall doors or anything more than an open hole on the floor, a broken pipe protruding a few inches. I just couldn't go there!  I decided, as the shock of waking from those dreams happened, that was a very good thing!

Oh No! Not Betty's Pies!

The news has been full of wildfires in northern MN these last few days. One is north of Brainerd, the other north of Two Harbors.  Since we love the North Shore, both for long day trips and camping occasionally, we frequently stop just north of Two Harbors. That news immediately caught our attention.

First thing I noticed about the area decades ago was a nice pullout shortly past Duluth from the highway along the shore with great photo opportunities of Lake Superior and land jutting out, tree topped rocky cliffs, wildflowers for foreground, and of course waves. Then there was the Stewart River dumping into the lake and the shots it enabled. Finally, after repeated stops and an urge to explore more, there was risking crossing the bridge over the Stewart River while hugging the low railing, making our way carefully down to the other side's shore, and discovering an abundance of Lake Superior Agates. 

Oops, now everybody knows where to find them! Then again, they get picked over soon after ice melt. It could take another big storm to bring more agates ashore. After road construction/"improvement" a couple years ago, crossing the highway in that spot can be extra risky since the former pullout is inaccessible by car, traffic is faster there, and the new bridge no longer has a safe raised margin along the railing for crossing the river. One has to cross the busy hiway on foot, or take a steep path along the river bank under the bridge, or start from a different pullout, the only one left. 

That's also the large parking lot for all the customers for Betty's Pies, or as our favorite metro news station puts it, "The Iconic Betty's Pies". The road improvements have made it safer for vehicle traffic, getting in and out, but not so much for pedestrians with old bones and joints trying to reach the shore. Parking has expanded, porta potties are lined up for the people waiting to get in or to hike. One can even hike upriver to a falls, I'm told. Since it's a 9 mile round trip, I don't plan to do so. The place has really grown over the years.

Because Betty's Pies is iconic. We stop there every trip, either to have a single slice each, with or without an order of a full meal,  or order multiple pies to go in a prepared cooler over ice. Sometimes all of the above. Note those pies aren't just for us. When we know we're going up there, we take orders from people who can't get there themselves. We'll pay up front, they pay before they get their pie(s). We arranged to do so for our planned two day trip to Duluth last fall, which turned into swapping vacation plans for 4 days in the hospital. On the plus side, once health returned, we did manage lunch and picked up pies for the trip home. The boat trip didn't happen. Agate hunting didn't happen.

And now, Betty's Pies might not be open again this summer when we plan to head north again. That one fire damaged part of the restaurant, and as I write this, still is not under control though planes are scooping up water from Superior to drop on it. The staff has said they will be back in business as soon as they can. Since we plan to head back up with better luck to take advantage of the boat trip we paid for last summer, we hope to time it out for when they are open again.

Best of luck, folks! We'll be waiting!

Anybody want to put in an order for pies again?