So-o-o Tempting... For A Bit

 Remember I said this shoulder is healing differently than the first one? Pain is still the biggest part. The long term nerve block wasn't as effective and still isn't. Second time there was the familiar body dysphoria like the first time but little pain control. These weeks later my body recognizes itself and its location, but a long-term ache has set in and seems to resist alteration. I was used to Tylenol settling in to ease pain on shoulder #1 within half an hour of taking a pill, not to mention lasting for hours. Now it's like I have to wait hours and find I'm still waiting until I realize it was gone for a bit but I moved and it's back.

I left the hospital with a smaller amount of Oxy than post shoulder #1. Since I hadn't really needed that much oxy previously I had no complaints. So the temptation, when my shoulder aches for hours at a time, is to take another oxy in hopes of stopping the pain. It does sort of work. But it also means I can't drive if needed. I had a good chat with my surgeon last week, my first post-op exam in his office. We discussed a lot of things, including my need to be available as a (legal) driver coming up. I had Googled the question, trying to find out how long Oxy stays in the system, in order to see how long I needed to wait to be legal after taking one before driving, since the shoulder itself would not be expected to stop me by the time I was needed to drive Steve around after his new hip - and presumably his own doses of some strong narcotic painkiller for a while. So no driving for him then while he recuperates.

Google simply gave me a scold! Obviously if I had to ask, then  I had a problem with narcotics and needed to try treatment or addiction therapy. WTF! All I wanted was a window for being legal, just in case I was needed for driving - as fully expected when Steve couldn't. I figure I can monitor my muscle strength and work around the disability of the hour. I have for years, never letting various muscle strains or even a broken hand keep me from doing my job driving. Tennis elbow? Adjust this way. Bad knees? Arrange for driving long distances instead of hiking heavy boxes every couple of blocks in a major city. I made sure the company valued me and thus gave me every opportunity to (reliably) do the job as needed. They didn't need to hear about a broken hand, I just disguised it with a carpal tunnel support and carried on.  I was dependable, the bills got paid.

But all I got from Google was a bad assumption and an insult. What I got from the surgeon was understanding of the family needs now, and a time requirement of 24 hours between taking an oxy if needed on a bad day and getting behind the wheel. It makes the difference between ordering groceries to be delivered - an extra fee - and driving 24 miles round trip to haul them home, up the stairs, and into the house. Basically it's a financial decision, while we're still paying off the new furnace. Both of us should be able to make that kind of choice for ourselves, both of us dealing with surgeries to lessen daily pain and increase mobility as we heal. Steve will be getting his PT in our home. I'll be heading over to the local doc's office, just like for the other shoulder, about 3 miles each way, driving of course, but not starting my PT till July. Muscles will be adjusting - should all go as planned - and the second shoulder learning to work almost as well minus one of its 5 rotator cuff muscles just like the first shoulder did. 

Right now I'm not as optimistic for #2 as I was for #1, but it's still early days. I'm only at the very beginning of the window various surgeons allow for not staying in the sling 24/7. For my surgery some allow it after 2 weeks, others go up to 6. I do know he won't order PT for me until after the 4th of July, which should be a good time to know what both Steve's needs/abilities and mine will be post his hip replacement so I can schedule mine properly. He can still get PT at home, while I'll be driving in and back for mine, and we'll both know more about other plans, like just getting in the car for things like visiting family, or heading to his fishing hole, or hauling the camera to Crex in hopes of that next great photo, since these days it's only shooting the new iris blooms in one of my garden beds. Soon I'll be going for the asiatic lilies down on the south end of our home, since they have multiplied way past even my highest hopes from last year and already need more weeding than I can give despite growing so thickly that even the rabbits don't seem to have a chance for a meal from them. Where last year a bulb produced a single stalk with two or three buds, and only if left alone, now each has grown to several stems with as many as 8 or 10 buds swelling on their tops. Even weeds are being somewhat controlled by their shade - Yahooo!

I still hope to get out to Crex, Steve to go fishing again this season - the independence means a lot to both of us. It's nothing like addiction keeping us examining our pain levels on a daily or even hourly basis. It's balancing right now against hopes for the next day/month/season. It's how much we choose to put up with at any given time, or day, or month. Every so often the shoulder eases enough that it's almost a surprise when it starts in again that it hasn't been constant all this time. I'm hoping the time comes when the pain recurring is what the surprise is: what, you're still here? That's how the first one has been for a while now, reminding me that I'm hauling around something heavier than it's supposed to be used to, like a full gallon of milk. Mostly it vanishes when overuse stops. I expect those same milestones for #2, even while discovering I'm actually thinking it should be catching up to shoulder  #1 weeks ahead of time, especially since I'm spoiled by the independence I've gotten used to by such simple things as the planned for change in seasonal wardrobe making dressing much easier this time, jumping over my expectations until I bump into reality. Oh well, learning curves. But having one arm that can actually hang the shower head up again is fantastic independence! Deodorant on both sides is a planned goal. (I can hear you laughing out there!!!)

I have iris plants on order, arriving in the mail these days, no driving required, and easily planted by one hand in a well prepared bed. Meanwhile I've been enjoying shooting the daily and even hourly changes in the circle garden where the iris have been blooming their hearts out. One daylily has poked up a stem with two buds, no clue yet what color. Therein lies a small problem. The daylilies will be crowding out the iris, which means by mid to late summer there will be lots of daylilies to dig out and give away. (No, I'm not charging: inquiries considered.) Judgment was solely by color first, then location second. I've promised my regular PT lady one each of small purple (grapette) and tall purple (Nosferatu) daylilies as a thank you for working with me over the months, both pre- and post- surgery. We fill the hard working repetitious therapy times with gardening talk, among other things. She will get the first two plants. Then as others show their colors (and I know there are at least two other varieties in there I simply do not like as much,) I'll be marking and digging those out to give away, first to friends, and second to other staff in the doc' office who were so interested in seeds from my tall balloon flowers. I can easily remove a likely couple dozen daylillies, individually root-bagged in plastic store bags, of  which we have bunches from those times we don't bring our own bags shopping. If I get those while blooming, the potential recipients can see what they're getting and know how hardy those are. Then I can relocate iris in that bed, still have three seasons of flowers, and give the best loved iris room to spread. By then I hope to have two working shoulders again!

How will I know how to spread the iris around, you ask? First, I've been taking regular photos, both of the area as a whole as blooms progress, and individual blossom to get the details. I know that won't be enough, especially as the daylilies try to take over and iris bloom turn to a puddle of mush. So I came up with a plan: mark each one. It wasn't enough to label one blue and another purple. First the blues come in a short and small dark blue, two tall pale blues slightly different in shades, and a short stem but large flower with white standards and dark blue falls. That's just four blues in all, and I already dug out two of the first little ones for the second iris garden. I know I planted ten or so of just that kind last summer. OK, then, how about purple ones? Are we talking burgundy purple, or deep violet purple? The burgundy comes with a rich blue in the middle of the falls and white/orange beards. Another similar one has no blue in the falls but a very deep burgundy, and is hiding orange somewhere behind some of the standards, besides having short beards. The deep violet come with spectacular orange beards... or none visible, and standing side-by-side are hard to tell apart for about three days. Then one of the pale blue ones decided to get so pale it turned almost pure white the next day. 

See my challenge? That doesn't even count the ones new last year which haven't bloomed yet, just made leaves so I can at least tell what species they are, as in iris instead of daylilies. I may or may not recall all of what I planted. For sure I can't remember exactly where. Whatever blooms will only  last a short while... much like my memory. I need better.

I opted for buying a box of wood tongue depressors - really cheap! - and writing my version of descriptions of each blossom for each flowering stem. Since we've moved recently, there are still a couple remaining rolls of clear packing tape in the house. I went high quality in those. We have sharpies, supposedly indelible. I figured write on the wood, cover it with tape to waterproof it (lots of folds in the tape), and add a loop of tape to go around the flowering stalk it described. Eventually what remains will be a woody stalk with a tag taped to it. That's the plan anyway. They can be moved into spots daylilies are taken out from. Late July or mid August would be pretty perfect timing for both plants. There will still be unidentified iris which didn't bloom this year, including a "Pagan Pink" and a "Grand Canyon Sunset" somewhere. I wrote down other names last summer but have no clue where they landed, and the plants were no help, so definitely a two-year project at best.

If you think this seems a great solution.... I'm waiting to see how summer goes and how tags survive. But the first issue was implementation in the first place. The ground is uneven, and every year my balance gets worse, exacerbated by having fallen a few times without being able to get up without help. No injuries, as such, but I've gotten very leery of this lumpy yard. Add a crowded garden with reluctance to step on what's growing in there. It's not possible to kneel on the outer ring and reach to the center, or at least without kneecaps any more. There are stepping stones into the center in one direction, but I don't trust them... yet. They need to bear weight through a full season so supporting soil adjusts.

Then a solution arrived. Her name is Tammy, a friend of family and rapidly becoming as family herself. She easily found places to step into the garden, and wrapped the tape holding the tags around the appropriate stems, one at a time.  Her timing was exquisite, the day before evening showers and a next morning storm. Earliest blossoms or damaged ones have curled into small lightbulb shaped balls, but the tags still declare their original colors. If new plants bloom in the next weeks it can be repeated as needed. As for the new plants ordered for the former rhubarb bed, I already have a chart in process, with variety names, on my laptop ready for printing once done, presuming all orders arrive, alive. I count one as "highly unlikely" to even show up since later clues pointed to a scam and photoshopped impossible colors attached to a plethora of alleged varieties, much a I'd love them to be real. Sighhh....

As an additional bonus, I just realized that Tylenol has been doing a lovely job while I've been writing this. Who needs Oxy when there's a garden to redesign? Unfortunately the Tylenol is still fairly short lived though the supply is sufficient. We found that out recently.  The hard way.

Steve has been having computer issues. We think it started with an attempted hacking, and his security system shut him down. That was months ago. We took it to a local shop, which cleared out the crap and reset his programming so he could use his laptop again. The problem recently repeated, stopping him from looking at his photos, playing a favorite online game which he enjoys even more because of a friendly rivalry with an extended family member many miles away, or even using his own funds (though none disappeared.)  With the reset he lost all his previous game scores and the two were no longer competing for top score. He was close to working his way back up until his laptop shut him out from everything except his e-books again. Some days he couldn't even access those. Some days he could read this blog but not see photos. We returned to the local computer fixer and the only staffer there that day was... let's just settle for a total prick, and leave it there. Steve's daughter came over and cleared everything off his laptop so he could reset and start over... except the starting over part didn't go well. Through me he contacted Microsoft to get his basic software back, and even though this was a recent purchase they didn't recognize him as a customer so that went nowhere. Aaarrrggghhhh!

This was the start of a lot of driving again, for me. So no oxy regardless of how my recovery was going. There was a trip to Walmart for Rx updates after he saw his doc. It's been his computer doing the grocery orders and paying the one monthly fee to get all delivered, so we were back to in-store shopping, an activity unfriendly to both of us. I hadn't gotten my replacement credit card yet so I couldn't order even for pickup. Steve put his laptop in a bag and took it along to Walmart where he'd purchased it. While he waited for a new Rx to be filled he went back to electronics and - miracle of miracles - found a fellow named Josh in electronics who knew everything his computer needed to get it up and working again, as soon as Steve was back home to put passwords back in. Steve was so impressed he contacted store management to sing the employee's praises! (We're rooting for Josh to get a raise.)

Meanwhile this was my turn not to just drive, but pull a cart around the store one-handed,  find people to help reach things for me on high shelves (thank you all!), load everything in the car, drive back home once Steve had finished, and haul bags up stairs, into the house, up onto counters, into freezer and fridge.... Let's just acknowledge the day as a royal pain for me, shall we?  Steve at least found a charged scooter/cart.

I might have considered opening that bottle of oxy and popping a pill. It was tempting... if I didn't know I had to drive the next day again. Steve got most of his computer functions back again, so long as he remembered his logins and passwords. Now I know I can't keep up with all mine, especially with old ones I just might need again. I also use "clues" with some of them so you have to know me to have a clue what it might be, and some times even I have issues. I was on Linked In for a while before deciding it had nothing to offer and only recommendations to beg from me. I tried after a couple years to get back in because somebody asked me to. Nothing I think I ever used as a password worked. That settled that. Eventually I located it, and realized I'd felt so pushed to get on the site despite no real interest, I'd used"armtwister" as a password. Pretty telling, right? Use it if you like it. I won't be back there.

But Steve really needed to get back into his credit union to manage his money, pay bills, keep track of his balances. He did all that online. But he lost his information letting him in. We love our Credit Union, and appreciate their safeguards for our finances. In order to get him back into his account, he needed to show up in person with various IDs, sit down with a staff person in their discrete little office, and reinvent the login wheel for his account. This time not only did Steve write it all down, but did what I occasionally do with other things as well: take a photo of it!  BTW I saw the photo: it's too blurry for me to read. We'll see how it goes for him in a few months, eh?

This involved a two hour drive into the metro and back, where Steve absolutely hates to go. We have to rely on me to both tolerate the congested cranky traffic and navigate the roads. This was the day after hauling shopping goodies all around, plus a short morning bout of planting some iris tubers which had arrived the day before. A light soak overnight, rain expected the next two days, and very shallow holes in recently turned soil easily made and covered with one good arm.  No oxy needed for the planting, of course. But that was the second longest drive I've made since the first shoulder had healed, still no oxy within miles. (Insert cuss words here. Your choice.) Double Tylenol once home.

Did I mention there was also the need for a large load of laundry? I'd been putting it off since just before surgery and needed to be somewhat presentable in public at least. The dryer is stacked over the washer, and I've developed a method for throwing clothes up into it involving more twisting from the waist and relying on inertia than rotating shoulders. Even so....

Yep, oxy would have been nice. I doubled up late that day on a couple more Tylenol doses instead, carefully counting amounts over each day. Eventually I took the sling - the replacement from the hospital one which is easier on the body and mind both for comfort and independence -  and set it on the floor on top of my socks so I could get some sleep last night. I have proved to myself now I can get in/out of it on my own. I can also mostly just hold my arm in the position the sling does for me. With the humidity this summer any rubbing against my skin is a huge irritant, so that new bit of freedom is a bonus. I make sure now to start my mornings with two Tylenol instead of just one these days, while I wait for things to settle down again. Mornings are an activity bomb. Steve is going back to online ordering groceries delivered to inside the front door, saving on some driving, but next week is his surgery where I'm the driver. No maybes, no but-what-ifs, I'm the driver. The last two days have been grueling, so if I wanted to be tempted, it's there. But the last few pills are still in the bottle in a location I'm not sharing with anybody, and more iris are in the mail as I write this, but still easily dug like yesterday's pair in the same well-prepared patch of good topsoil. I even have the forethought to have prepared a chart this time as to what has been planted, what will be planted, and where in that plot. Not just species and varietal names, but colors. I'm taking it more seriously this year. However much my shoulder whines.

 Did I mention thunderstorms? Last night (aka 3AM this morning) the sirens went off, lightning flashed non-stop, small hail and winds pummeled whatever they could. This photo was yesterday morning, part of the older iris patch needing relocations to give them the best chances of even better show next year(s).

This was this morning, also before the likely suppertime repeat storm expected. Hail isn't kind. It's nice to have a camera to prove what was fleeting glory.  You may note in both shots some of the tongue depressors used to label varieties while they were still identifiable. These shots remind me of part of what I'm working for.

These plastic tags from yesterday's planting remind me of why I keep working for improvement. In case you can't read the labels, this variety is "Painted Woman", two stacked blossoms shown per tag. I hope for better photos than on fading plastic next year... or the following one.

Oh, by the way, all this blogging happens to support my arm perfectly enough that I barely notice it until time to close the laptop and prevent it from crashing into the end table where it sleeps and recharges. I'm probably good till lunchtime, also known as "mail is here" time. A pair of shoes, the keys to the mail center, grab the camera, and I can see if the peony bush survived the night. I hadn't gotten a photo this year yet. It just fully opened these last couple days when I couldn't be bothered, and it's hiding behind the shed. Sighhhhh....

Ask me tomorrow... maybe.

So That Replacement Card Came......

I knew what it was the second I touched it.  I was disappointed because usually they come with a bit of thin cardboard so a random stranger can't immediately tell what's in the envelope. It's a good invitation for one to disappear for a couple days' worth of unauthorized use. But since I now had it in hand, I guess I couldn't complain too hard.

As soon as I opened it up they almost lost me immediately as a customer, even after all these years. And even though it would hurt my credit rating. Why? When I started reading through for a phone number to call to start the card working, the first thing on their communication was a QR code.

Have  I mentioned here that I don't do QR codes? I mean mention by not more than a dozen or so times?  I suppose it could be a "subtle" ploy to send me out to finally buy an expensive smart phone, figure out how to use the damn thing, add the programming to handle QR codes, learn how to use those, and finally set my new card into use.

Thing is, I pretty much know how much smart phones cost. No thanks. I don't have the credit card to cover one right now, thanks anyway, or not apparently till I use one with the QR code programming to set my new one up for use. Then I might be able to if I chose to do it. I guess some of you are starting to see the issue here, right? Or have you already had your smartphone surgically implanted somewhere in not too embarrassing a location to pull it out from for use in public? I do promise never to ask you where, nor what the logistics are for getting it recharged, or how long it takes to stuff it back where the cop who just pulled you over for using it while driving can't see it, so by the time they walk up to your rolled down car window they have no clue what you might have done with it in those last 5 seconds and are beginning to think you were an optical delusion. Honest!

Because even if you manage to pull that off I don't ever want to know how and never wish to perjure myself in court lying about it. No matter how much I care about you.

But even more pressing a reason is without that card activated I can't use it to buy the new phone I'd need in order to activate it by QR code. Just a tiny little dilemma here, right?

As I peel the card away from the paper it's rubber-glued to, a phone number magically appears. I can actually use old school tech to get my card activated!  WOW! Somewhere in that office there lurks in the shadows a human who actually realizes there are folks out here like me who refuse the universal call to turn ourselves into AI adjacent units of relentless commerce.

I guess I'll keep that company for a while yet.

Among The Not-Rich

 Every so often something comes along to remind me that not being rich has its benefits. Most of the time voices from all over work to persuade you that more money is a good thing, that spending it on whatever you want at any moment is wonderful, and that access to any heart's desire, however fleeting, is ever to be desired. In this country it's typical marketing, backed by the idea that the more you have to spend the more valued you are. Or important. Or something, presumably wonderful.

It's a rare day when a different reality sounds good. I'm not talking about not having enough food, or a home to live in of whatever variety appeals to you in terms of size and possible mobility so long as it is safe shelter, or even not having the price of necessary medical care or education. Sometimes an inexpensive life is just more peaceful, so long as you're not worrying about the true necessities.

We just got a reminder of that in our email boxes today. The mobile home park we live in is located along a lake. There are blessings and benefits to that. For many of our neighbors it means a high annual fee in addition to lot rent to lease dock space during open water season, which is paired with a requirement to relocate your boat whenever ice is a factor. A significant chunk of property here is storage for dock pieces and winter (tarped) boat storage. For most using it, life is made up of two seasons: boats in, boats out. We have no boat so rarely pay attention except to notice changes, the same way we note flocks of birds on the water or flying over it, or colors of the sky reflected in it. Steve can fish regardless, having a favorite spot along his favorite river and a permanent fishing license he earned the hard way. He'll fish from shore near the launch area, with a board on the sand with ridges to keep his folding chair from sliding into the sand and/or tipping, and will love the time spent regardless of catch or company. For him it involves planning and weather, not huge expenses.

So the note in our email caught our attention without being significant in our lives. All boats currently out at our shore docks must be pulled from the water and parked elsewhere (list of qualifying or verboten locations) by early Saturday morning. You will be notified as to when they may be returned. Failure to follow involves consequences (listed).

Now we haven't been here too long, so this is a first for us, even though it doesn't involve us. It turns out to be a climate thing this year. It's been too dry - not that inexperienced eyes might have noted how low lake levels have become. After all, we've had rain on a regular basis, and if I'm watering the gardens it's because of keeping new plantings healthy until they "take', not basic survival.

Now I'm not sure just exactly what we will be doing this coming weekend. For me it likely involves a reliable chair and one good arm pulling weeds. Add hat or sunscreen. For Steve likely some cooking shows on TV or another of his E-books on his laptop. It won't include boating, or fishing (due to crowds on weekends), or much in the way of hard work since my arm still needs to stay in its splint and Steve's hip hasn't been replaced yet. For sure it won't involve dropping whatever weekend plans there might have been to pull a boat out of the water and wait for permission to put it back in.

I did however just receive permission to dig out a tall bearded iris I planted decades ago, and bring it plus offspring over to this newer house's gardens. It's still thriving and blooming, and a fairly unique brassy/bronze color that's always stood out. It's a bit too early yet to dig,  but not too early to make plans for it. Good thing we don't have to move a boat, eh?

We're just not rich enough for those problems.

Early Iris This Year

These have varied and checkered histories. I had my own real gardens to plant back in 1991 back in east central Minnesota. Some things got overdone, some were whatever was cheap or available, some were things I grew up with, or missed because I hadn't. An example of the latter would be blue violets. We left a mobile home park with a tiny garden patch where violets thrived from my unique neglect to a huge yard with no restrictions as to what went in. One of the last things I swiped from the first garden was a small clump of violets. Aside from Arizona, I haven't lived without them since. Many of my neighbors where we are now consider them weeds, and the management hires weed killers to keep the lawns grass... mostly. Score around here has the violets winning, even if mostly in marginal beds where flowers and bushes are encouraged. Statuary as well.  Even various windmills and such. Just keep the weeds out. So in my spring border beds you will see blue violets and scillas announcing their survival of another winter, just ahead of crocus and daffodils, themselves ahead of tulips... and so it goes.

Some of the hardy survivors of that early garden were iris. With permission of the new owner, I dug out a few favorites. The two most removed were a short deep blue iris formerly next to some boulders in front of - from the street - a clump of paper birch. Those were the first bloomers this spring among my iris.

Being the hardiest of the transplants, they were well picked through when this year's new bed was planned. Single plants were often in clumps of five or six tubers, so I marked them while blooming and divided the largest of the clumps for a new home, leaving others around the outside of the raised ring to catch up next year... or try. As low as these are, it may be easy from this photo to note them growing in their own flat leaf foliage as well as clumps of daylilies. Those will be a topic for later this summer. 

I knew I wished more colors in future years. I'd have to wait for more iris to bloom, and should with lots of unique iris foliage in the garden, but meanwhile, a bit of light one-armed work while healing should be good for me, physically and emotionally. So for a while activities combine iris hunting, either at local garden centers or from favorite online sources, with an eye to new varieties as well as photo documenting older ones as they bloomeso I could make fairly intelligent decisions as to where to move things to and from through fall.

The most prolific iris I liked was a reliable pale blue bearded one. It had managed to spread over the years out into the grass and started to surround a huge boulder along the driveway and near the street. Digging up these occurred in three batches, and possibly this last time has finally removed them from the original yard, as desired. One person who was going to be given them as a gift - three different times - allowed them to die twice. A few weeks ago was my last attempt and so far has proven - with some help from her own family - to be successful this time. So far. ( She wonders why I don't share more plants with her.) Note the color is pretty uniform, the beard pale yellow, the petals not very ruffled. I just got an offer from a neighbor to take a few off my hands once she gets her own place for them, but a summer wedding is higher on her agenda.

 

The next iris from last year's transplant to bloom got a lot of attention, even more so than last year. I've also seen it under two different names in the catalogs. I bought this as "All Night Long", referring to the deep purple nearly black in tone, or as close as iris gets. The buds are close to black, giving it that name, but the similar one is called "Sharp Dressed Man". I presume that name comes from the bright orange beard both have. I have no photo with that second name and can't compare them to see if they seem identical or not. I suppose if a plant patent is in dispute, somebody can fight it out. There well may be several ways to similar results.

I have no name for this bloom, spectacular as it is in the garden. It does not match any of the descriptions of what I bought last year. The magenta is vibrant, the center of the falls a very rich blue which matches part of the blue in an otherwise gold and white beard. This was taken its 2nd day when light improved for shooting but petals faded a bit. Either way it was a huge "WOW!" and new stems remain so.

While the last one took our breaths away, it brought us closer to that part of the garden where this one was hiding low. Again, unnamed and undescribed in previous purchases. I found nothing similar in catalog shots. The white and blue are stark contrasts, and it took to the second day of shooting this one to be able to get the tiny yellow ruffle at the top edge of the standards to become visible to the camera. Wrong light? Need more computer foolery? At least there is a hint of it even if more shows to the eye. At least the beard shows yellow if the camera tilts enough to show it better, but that risks falling these days.

The abundance of light blue iris in the garden, like the upper left corner intrusion into this photo, did an excellent job of disguising this gem from us for a day. We kept waiting for it to color up, until good light showed us it had! And I had a name for it: Silverado! It's nearly white, not quite blue except deep where petals leave their stem. I'd been waiting for two years to see this one, and here it is. As differences dawn, we noticed that the petals have more frilled edges than any of the blue iris. Beards are more white. This stalk is full of growing buds, like the one popping up from bottom left, and it will carefully be divided in future years.

Again it was a different iris which pointed us to another one being something other than what we had been looking at already. That burgundy one left us thinking this was another of the same, just somehow lesser.  With a better view, I'd say not lesser, just waiting for differences to show up. Right now I'd say it looks like a sleeping kitten in its standards, and maybe a deep purple pillow supporting its head... plus a very bizarre collection of orange teeth! I'll be keeping a camera on this one and its subsequent blooms for a few days.

Meanwhile I've been placing orders for more. Sometime I'll hope to show what Cherry Fling looks like, and whether it looks as tasty as Butter and Sugar. You'll have to be as patient as I. Meanwhile I'm keeping a list of what is expected, what was ordered last year but not bloomed yet, and figuring out which daylilies will be gifted to others while they insist on multiplying 5 times faster than the iris do!

If I have to move again, I'll be sure I know where to dig for what to keep!

Getting A Replacement Card

It's not my first time needing a card replaced. Stuff happens, not everybody is honest. Even if they all were, other things come along requiring replacement sets of numbers. I've been with a particular credit card company over 20 years now. There has never been a problem replacing one, although my credit union goes way above & beyond the charge card company in simple terms of speed for putting a new card in my hand vs. waiting for the mail system to pop one in my mail stream. I can walk into my credit union lobby, any of over a dozen locations,  ask for a new card without a reason, have the old card cancelled and a physical new card in hand in five minutes... unless the line at the tellers windows is a bit longer. And one does have to actually get in the door to take advantage of that speed. It could mean over an hour round trip, possibly depending on a pre-filled gas tank, or desire to stop and taste somebody else's cooking. The first time that happened, card in my hand in minutes after walking in, it surprised the heck out of me. I'm so used to Steve's former banking system taking over a week to issue one to him... but he's now joined my credit union for its many advantages. No names dropped here, but I think his old cards were delivered via their stagecoach. Considering how often replacements were required, there may well have been an increase of bandits holding them up as they crossed through the old wild west. I guess they were a bit slow to the table for e-shipping gold bars across the country.

So this is not any kind of a complaint. I know, odd accents can be annoying when you're not sure you are communicating with another  person at some major call center in  particular.  While this person at the call center had an accent he also made sure I knew I was understood, and that he was as well. When I asked a question he had a prompt answer, every time. Unlike many people on the other end of that phone call he refrained from trying to up-sell me on their services. I appreciated that. Too many call-in services just can't leave that script where it belongs, in a bonfire somewhere, polluting the atmosphere. Not that I'm in favor of polluting, just believe up-selling a long term customer is wasteful. If I wanted to add services I'd have done it years ago. Neither of us is new to their system. Both of us can read.

Today I got the expected prompt internet survey on how did I like their company's performance in responding to my request? Hmmm, just fine, but with caveats. It's been too short a time for my new card to show up. I'm not disappointed today - yet - by the process taking the time it needs. But what happens if I change my mind? Say, if the mail is an extra two days late and I'm needing that new card already? I have no way to get back to them now with that bit of feedback, other than placing another phone call, and that puts my initial satisfaction level at a mathematically higher level than it had just become. By then if I am unhappy it's a whole new issue, for I just informed them I was 100% OK with their services, when now I'm only 50% OK. Lest you think the two balance out, note that my optimism for this call is already 50% impaired, while the combination of the two calls registers as 75% satisfied while I'm still believing in promises made, as opposed to maybe 63% unsatisfied  now until it comes to pass. The"when" of asking that question is significant. Add two more days now. My satisfaction might be a lowly 10% while my overall optimism is bouncing down at, say, 27%. The figures are unsteady, changing with promises kept, not promises made. All kinds of other pressures, moment to moment, vary them. Did I miss a deadline for a special sale, for example? Or perhaps been saved from my own impulsiveness?

Somebody in Marketing found a way to fudge the books... or will have by the time I know I'm disappointed with them. Tsk tsk tsk!  Now if they made that survey satisfaction call several days after they fell down on the job I'd know I was unhappy, but that doesn't get a chance to register. How much you want to bet another follow-up call is never made to find out what's happening when a full report is possible, meaning card is in hand?  

Same here.

Sneakey...........  

So how long till the Marketing person who found out the way to fudging the books on company satisfaction gets promoted to a higher enough salary that the head honcho starts looking at them favorably enough to promote them to the rank of "desired family-in-law member"? Just asking, FYI. I have my own collection of desired inlaws already, thank you, and none of it was dependent of sneaky financial manipulations on anybody's part. Just acceptance, kindness. communication.... Human traits.

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!