One of our customers is a medical supply company which sends its equipment out with us to the patients, wherever they may be: hospital, nursing home, or home. On occasion, they send us to pick it up again.
Yesterday I got one of those return runs. It was a huge complex, one of those places where the main building is a large "C" enclosing their parking lot on three sides. Finding the main entrance (they had signs with arrows) among the many, I walked up to the main info desk and asked for the specific location I had been given. The instructions went something like, "Go down that hallway, take the first left down a long corridor, pass through the blue double doors, well maybe they're green or blue-green, and the nursing station will be on your left." I enquired whether this was the closest entrance to that nursing station and was assured it was.
You wonder how some people hold their jobs. I walked. And I walked. On my way I passed two more entrances, and through many double doors, none of them blue. Or green, for that matter. Finally I stopped at the first nursing station I found and asked where the blue doors were, since that was my landmark. She was very puzzled. She knew nothing about any blue doors. However, this was in fact my destination, and she had the case of equipment I was there to pick up.
"But I just called twenty-five minutes ago, and they said UPS was coming out tomorrow. I haven't even had time to find it a box."
I assured her that sometimes they sent us instead of UPS, that it was all enclosed in a case and thus didn't absolutely require a box, that I could get it there safely without one.
"Well, they said you'd be coming with a UPS label for it. Do you have a UPS label?" This was said with a look that assured me she was checking my bona fides, and she wasn't going to let the case go out the door with just anybody. I patiently explained that UPS sends all its packages to a big central distribution area, and ships out from there. It's handled by lots of different people. I, on the other hand, was delivering it straight to the company requesting it, and didn't need a label to know where I was going. After about another second of indecision, she suddenly decided and thrust the case at me. But just in case I was somehow pulling a fast one on her (how would I have gotten the information on what and where to pick up? I'm psychic?) she asked for my name. I gave it to her along with spelling the company name and giving her my driver number.
Then I left via her entrance door and took the short path across the parking lot.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
The Big Question
Talk about elephants in the room!
I'm not in denial, really. I just think sometimes there's a processing limit, and when you're completely snowed under by one thing - or a whole set of things at once - then some other things can slip through without their due attention, or at least what everybody else thinks is their due attention. And everybody else thinks this is MAJOR MAJOR MAJOR!
They haven't said it's cancer. They just said they can't confirm that it's not.
We're talking about my "football" here. You know, the uterine fibroid that's grown a bit since 2007, my last untrasound check on it. I read the report back when I finally got the summation of it from my OB-GYN. I concentrated on the details like centimeter size. I also read the parts about not being able to distinguish the midline, hard to tell exactly where the edges were, rapid growth, and all of those combined meaning they cannot say with certainty that it's not cancer.
They didn't say it is.
Meanwhile I'm dealing with everything else, taking care of (or managing care of) my dad, monitoring blood sugar levels, monitoring and planning every bite of food, working, arranging allergy shots, trying to find time to get back to poisoning the weeds in the garden without nailing the flowers, shopping for two, sending Paul to the vet with the dog for his latest ear infection and accommodating that treatment in the schedule, finding time to work on wedding plans....
That plus trying to figure out what to do when "choosing" to afford to do something looks suspiciously close to courting bankruptcy. Or if not that, then just putting myself in a position where when I retire there'll be no funding for it. I've been working for years on being able to look forward to something other than poverty when I retire. I paid off the house, back when there was enough money coming in to do that. Good thing too, since commission cutbacks make it impossible to afford a mortgage these days. Any loan against the equity in the house is the same as losing the house, since there's no budget to pay it back. I quit paying into IRAs because I'm trying hard to whittle down my credit card balance so it's not choking me once I retire. Gas prices aren't helping. Having to leave work early to relieve Daddy's caretaker, or start late due to medical appointments, well, they're not helping either.
And frankly, I'm one of those people who get more scared by poverty than the idea of cancer. Except at this point, the idea of cancer means poverty. So, how long can I delay doing anything about it? Or how can I perhaps find out whether there's any problem or any urgency? And how much will that cost? Embolization includes an overnight hospital stay. A hysterectomy requires longer. The first may help, but also postpones the second for a couple years at best, and that's if there's no cancer. The hysterectomy gets rid of the problem, and saves "wasting" time and resources on the first, but bites a much bigger hole out of the budget. Can I wait for Medicare to kick in?
I checked out the possibility of a biopsy, but the problem is the fibroid is huge, and only part of it may have begun changing. What if they stick the needle in six places and it's the seventh that's turned?
It's almost funny how everybody else freaks out by the word "cancer". I think folks fear it more than another 9/11. Me? Not so much. It's just not something that's been on my radar. Even a request for a repeat mammogram for better detail doesn't phase me. I don't worry about it. I know people who've had breast cancer, died from it. I know people who've died from liver cancer, and I'm aware that my years in the dry cleaners puts me at elevated risk. But, so? I'm just thinking finances.
Well, I'm also wondering what I'll do with my "hair" for the wedding if I'm bald from chemo or radiation. C'mon, something to think about.
There's grim irony in finally having health insurance but with such a limiting cap, and such narrow qualifications regarding my income level. Suppose I cash in some of my IRAs to help pay the bills. The money then counts as income, puts me over the amount to qualify for my insurance, and off the plan I go. So, pay my bills, and wind up losing the house or the insurance or both. Don't pay, declare bankruptcy... another undesirable end. Can we make it not be cancer or not grow fast enough or metastisise so that it can be ignored for two more years? I can afford it better then.
OK, dream on.
I made two phone calls this morning. The first was to my insurance plan, asking just how close to my annual cap I was. There was good news: the $10 grand limit is for inpatient treatment, and since everything I've done so far has been outpatient, I still have $10 grand left! Plus, I can still keep on with the other things I'm dealing with, like the allergy shots and the diabetes.
Whew! It's not a complete solution, but takes care of a chunk of the bill. It's enough that I feel better, irrational as that is. There'll still be tens of thousands of bill to pay afterwards.
The second call was to a gynecological oncologist in St. Paul, the nearest to where I live. Yes, he takes my insurance. He's only available in the office on Tuesdays and Thursdays: which would I prefer? Well, allergy shots are Thursdays, so can we try Tuesdays? Sure. This next Tuesday is filled, and, hmmm, let's see... Oh dear, the first available appointment is the 26th. Am I sure I can wait that long? It's waited 4 years, what's an extra week or two?
They want a list of my meds brought in, and a copy of the ultrasound faxed to them ahead of time. Faxed? What kind of detail can you get over a fax machine? Really, faxed? I can tell I'm gonna have some questions. But the appointment is made, and the rest is waiting. And working to rearrange my life so if I need to take a few weeks off from it, I can do it.
Nothing like another challenge.
I'm not in denial, really. I just think sometimes there's a processing limit, and when you're completely snowed under by one thing - or a whole set of things at once - then some other things can slip through without their due attention, or at least what everybody else thinks is their due attention. And everybody else thinks this is MAJOR MAJOR MAJOR!
They haven't said it's cancer. They just said they can't confirm that it's not.
We're talking about my "football" here. You know, the uterine fibroid that's grown a bit since 2007, my last untrasound check on it. I read the report back when I finally got the summation of it from my OB-GYN. I concentrated on the details like centimeter size. I also read the parts about not being able to distinguish the midline, hard to tell exactly where the edges were, rapid growth, and all of those combined meaning they cannot say with certainty that it's not cancer.
They didn't say it is.
Meanwhile I'm dealing with everything else, taking care of (or managing care of) my dad, monitoring blood sugar levels, monitoring and planning every bite of food, working, arranging allergy shots, trying to find time to get back to poisoning the weeds in the garden without nailing the flowers, shopping for two, sending Paul to the vet with the dog for his latest ear infection and accommodating that treatment in the schedule, finding time to work on wedding plans....
That plus trying to figure out what to do when "choosing" to afford to do something looks suspiciously close to courting bankruptcy. Or if not that, then just putting myself in a position where when I retire there'll be no funding for it. I've been working for years on being able to look forward to something other than poverty when I retire. I paid off the house, back when there was enough money coming in to do that. Good thing too, since commission cutbacks make it impossible to afford a mortgage these days. Any loan against the equity in the house is the same as losing the house, since there's no budget to pay it back. I quit paying into IRAs because I'm trying hard to whittle down my credit card balance so it's not choking me once I retire. Gas prices aren't helping. Having to leave work early to relieve Daddy's caretaker, or start late due to medical appointments, well, they're not helping either.
And frankly, I'm one of those people who get more scared by poverty than the idea of cancer. Except at this point, the idea of cancer means poverty. So, how long can I delay doing anything about it? Or how can I perhaps find out whether there's any problem or any urgency? And how much will that cost? Embolization includes an overnight hospital stay. A hysterectomy requires longer. The first may help, but also postpones the second for a couple years at best, and that's if there's no cancer. The hysterectomy gets rid of the problem, and saves "wasting" time and resources on the first, but bites a much bigger hole out of the budget. Can I wait for Medicare to kick in?
I checked out the possibility of a biopsy, but the problem is the fibroid is huge, and only part of it may have begun changing. What if they stick the needle in six places and it's the seventh that's turned?
It's almost funny how everybody else freaks out by the word "cancer". I think folks fear it more than another 9/11. Me? Not so much. It's just not something that's been on my radar. Even a request for a repeat mammogram for better detail doesn't phase me. I don't worry about it. I know people who've had breast cancer, died from it. I know people who've died from liver cancer, and I'm aware that my years in the dry cleaners puts me at elevated risk. But, so? I'm just thinking finances.
Well, I'm also wondering what I'll do with my "hair" for the wedding if I'm bald from chemo or radiation. C'mon, something to think about.
There's grim irony in finally having health insurance but with such a limiting cap, and such narrow qualifications regarding my income level. Suppose I cash in some of my IRAs to help pay the bills. The money then counts as income, puts me over the amount to qualify for my insurance, and off the plan I go. So, pay my bills, and wind up losing the house or the insurance or both. Don't pay, declare bankruptcy... another undesirable end. Can we make it not be cancer or not grow fast enough or metastisise so that it can be ignored for two more years? I can afford it better then.
OK, dream on.
I made two phone calls this morning. The first was to my insurance plan, asking just how close to my annual cap I was. There was good news: the $10 grand limit is for inpatient treatment, and since everything I've done so far has been outpatient, I still have $10 grand left! Plus, I can still keep on with the other things I'm dealing with, like the allergy shots and the diabetes.
Whew! It's not a complete solution, but takes care of a chunk of the bill. It's enough that I feel better, irrational as that is. There'll still be tens of thousands of bill to pay afterwards.
The second call was to a gynecological oncologist in St. Paul, the nearest to where I live. Yes, he takes my insurance. He's only available in the office on Tuesdays and Thursdays: which would I prefer? Well, allergy shots are Thursdays, so can we try Tuesdays? Sure. This next Tuesday is filled, and, hmmm, let's see... Oh dear, the first available appointment is the 26th. Am I sure I can wait that long? It's waited 4 years, what's an extra week or two?
They want a list of my meds brought in, and a copy of the ultrasound faxed to them ahead of time. Faxed? What kind of detail can you get over a fax machine? Really, faxed? I can tell I'm gonna have some questions. But the appointment is made, and the rest is waiting. And working to rearrange my life so if I need to take a few weeks off from it, I can do it.
Nothing like another challenge.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Progress, Dead Ends, and The Elephant In The Room
So, it's been over two months now since I got health insurance and started setting up appointments. Much has happened since then, and much not. Most has been written about, but one thing not. Yet.
The allergist diagnosed my dermatographism as a symptomatic expression of underlying allergy(-ies), tested, and found a bundle of things to avoid. Some of that is possible. Most, not so much. After some thought, I decided to go for the allergy shots, which actually start tomorrow morning, and go Monday and Thursday mornings for a while. Three shots per visit. Wheee.
They cause their own "little" side effect, and I'm not talking about the possibility of reaction to the shots, or even my decreasing availability for work causing lessening of income. After ordering having them made up, I was discussing with their office how much individual shots would cost if the ever-looming possibility of a government shut-down becomes fact on July 1st. My insurance is, after all, sponsored by the state. (An alternative scenario is I could get kicked off any insurance if the legislature budget goes through as written.) She thought about thirty bucks a piece, which is a strain but doable, especially if any shutdown is brief. Then she threw the zinger at me: it's formulating the shots themselves that costs thousands.
Thousands!?! Oooohhhh. Ummmm, maybe it's time to check how much of my $10,000/yr. insurance budget I have left. I figured this was one of the two things this year that I could take care of. There are already enough dead ends.
Getting the fibroid evaluated cost a visit to the OB-GYN, an ultrasound, having a radiologist read the scans, and an option for shrinkage treatment with surgery to follow in a few years when Medicare kicks in. The main problem with that treatment is that it is standard for it to require an overnight stay in the hospital, a very sensible precaution in case the wrong arteries got blocked somehow, but all by itself busting my budget. So, no go there. Keep carrying that football around, watching it grow. Meanwhile, a nice chunk out of that ten grand.
Getting the knees evaluated involved an orthopedic visit, X-rays, and a recommendation for surgery which also is a budget-blasting $60,000, give or take. So, live with them for another few years. Another, expected, dead end. Another chunk of the budget spent.
The last thing I'm dealing with, and have been since three days after my original physical when the labs came back, is diabetes. This at least is cheaper to treat. So far it's been two nursing visits, diabetes education on diet and a meter kit for stabbing my fingers three times daily and reading the blood sugar levels from a blood drop. The lancets and test strips need to be renewed by prescription, and there is an increased cost in food because the cheap carbs have to be avoided, but it has to be dealt with - forever! - and I'm doing it.
Actually, I'm doing a much better job of dealing with it on a dietary basis than I am in coming to terms with it. Mom always used to nag me that if I kept eating the sweets I love, I was going to get diabetes. Though my nurse tells me that's not strictly true, it still feels like a shaming punishment from Mom that I managed to cause myself. But I have developed a basic diet that works well, and occasionally try adding things into it that might or might not work, and getting the instant (2-hours) feedback that tells me when I've screwed up. For example, a 6" Subway is supposed to fit in, but the test strips tell me that they're pushing it. Don't do it often. Naan is out, since the allotted amount is way too little to consider anything but a hardship as a meal, and the pashwoori naan is too sweet to even consider trying, though I love the flavor. The beef-filled naan isn't worth eating. When I go for a burger or hot dogs, much of the bun is left out, which is OK unless I had in mind something that would hold a whole slew of condiments.
It's a lot of brown bagging, and my hours translate that into simple, easy, no-thought, no-cook, easy-measure foods. Cottage cheese is king. One carton covers two meals with fruits stirred in. Hence my recent expertise on what is good and what not. Cheerios are still OK, one of my favorite snack foods. Of course, that could and used to mean half a box if I was watching TV and not paying attention. Now it's a half-cup serving in a leftover container packed as mid-morning and mid-afternoon snack. Baby carrots are not supposed to count as a starchy veggie (who's kidding whom here?) but my test strips tell me that they seem to accentuate the carbs in anything else I eat. I do have to go shopping at least twice a week, since fruits spoil quickly, and there's only so much room in the 'fridge.
It's a good thing I don't drink my carbs. For years it's been diet sodas, diet lemonades and fruity teas, water, and coffee. Morning coffee turned over a year ago into morning mocha, but I found a cocoa brand months ago that offers a good sugarless variety, 1/2 carb unit the way I do it, and still makes good mocha. I found months ago that I need a little something to get my stomach to accept the plethora of pills I cram into it with my morning cuppa, and besides, this is my daily allotment of chocolate, a necessary ingredient in quality-of-life. Since I have my mocha first thing and delay breakfast till about 8:30, I can still get a full set of carbs in for breakfast. That's 30-45 grams. You try reading labels to see how it works!
I'm supposed to have a bedtime carb. Many days I'm just finishing supper in time to run a test strip before bed, and a late carb just wouldn't get tested. So I choose no snack, a slice of meat, or if it's early enough, maybe a slice of toast, possibly with margarine and garlic. Hold the garlic if it's raisin toast.
The reason for a bedtime carb is that the liver tends to decide by morning that there's not enough sugar in the bloodstream and releases some of its store, shooting blood sugar levels up. It doesn't seem to happen to me. So I don't take the bedtime carb as a religious mandate.
One side effect of the change in diet is its effect as a diet. I've been losing weight, slowly but surely. Steve noticed, as did Steph. Apparently mostly it's around my middle, something greatly to be desired, but not really noticeable until I stand up. However, the uniform man-shirt I wear for work now buttons at the bottom button, and those are designed to taper in where we girls taper out. Monday I go in for a weighing on the original scale from 2 1/2 months ago, and find out if all these different scales in all these different offices are uniformly set. I figure it counts more on the same scale. If all are equal, two weeks ago it was 14 lbs. down. Or 29 lbs. less than my overall max.
The good news here is that I can pretty much monitor the blood sugar and treat the allergies on an ongoing basis if the state shuts down or I've exceeded my insurance limit already. The surgeries I already figured out will need to be postponed, unless I happen to win the lottery.
Yeah, that'll happen. Of course, the lottery office also shuts down July 1st if the state does.
But the two most important things will get taken care of.
And Koda can come back and sleep in my room again, after a few months. That's not to be sneezed at. Hopefully.
The allergist diagnosed my dermatographism as a symptomatic expression of underlying allergy(-ies), tested, and found a bundle of things to avoid. Some of that is possible. Most, not so much. After some thought, I decided to go for the allergy shots, which actually start tomorrow morning, and go Monday and Thursday mornings for a while. Three shots per visit. Wheee.
They cause their own "little" side effect, and I'm not talking about the possibility of reaction to the shots, or even my decreasing availability for work causing lessening of income. After ordering having them made up, I was discussing with their office how much individual shots would cost if the ever-looming possibility of a government shut-down becomes fact on July 1st. My insurance is, after all, sponsored by the state. (An alternative scenario is I could get kicked off any insurance if the legislature budget goes through as written.) She thought about thirty bucks a piece, which is a strain but doable, especially if any shutdown is brief. Then she threw the zinger at me: it's formulating the shots themselves that costs thousands.
Thousands!?! Oooohhhh. Ummmm, maybe it's time to check how much of my $10,000/yr. insurance budget I have left. I figured this was one of the two things this year that I could take care of. There are already enough dead ends.
Getting the fibroid evaluated cost a visit to the OB-GYN, an ultrasound, having a radiologist read the scans, and an option for shrinkage treatment with surgery to follow in a few years when Medicare kicks in. The main problem with that treatment is that it is standard for it to require an overnight stay in the hospital, a very sensible precaution in case the wrong arteries got blocked somehow, but all by itself busting my budget. So, no go there. Keep carrying that football around, watching it grow. Meanwhile, a nice chunk out of that ten grand.
Getting the knees evaluated involved an orthopedic visit, X-rays, and a recommendation for surgery which also is a budget-blasting $60,000, give or take. So, live with them for another few years. Another, expected, dead end. Another chunk of the budget spent.
The last thing I'm dealing with, and have been since three days after my original physical when the labs came back, is diabetes. This at least is cheaper to treat. So far it's been two nursing visits, diabetes education on diet and a meter kit for stabbing my fingers three times daily and reading the blood sugar levels from a blood drop. The lancets and test strips need to be renewed by prescription, and there is an increased cost in food because the cheap carbs have to be avoided, but it has to be dealt with - forever! - and I'm doing it.
Actually, I'm doing a much better job of dealing with it on a dietary basis than I am in coming to terms with it. Mom always used to nag me that if I kept eating the sweets I love, I was going to get diabetes. Though my nurse tells me that's not strictly true, it still feels like a shaming punishment from Mom that I managed to cause myself. But I have developed a basic diet that works well, and occasionally try adding things into it that might or might not work, and getting the instant (2-hours) feedback that tells me when I've screwed up. For example, a 6" Subway is supposed to fit in, but the test strips tell me that they're pushing it. Don't do it often. Naan is out, since the allotted amount is way too little to consider anything but a hardship as a meal, and the pashwoori naan is too sweet to even consider trying, though I love the flavor. The beef-filled naan isn't worth eating. When I go for a burger or hot dogs, much of the bun is left out, which is OK unless I had in mind something that would hold a whole slew of condiments.
It's a lot of brown bagging, and my hours translate that into simple, easy, no-thought, no-cook, easy-measure foods. Cottage cheese is king. One carton covers two meals with fruits stirred in. Hence my recent expertise on what is good and what not. Cheerios are still OK, one of my favorite snack foods. Of course, that could and used to mean half a box if I was watching TV and not paying attention. Now it's a half-cup serving in a leftover container packed as mid-morning and mid-afternoon snack. Baby carrots are not supposed to count as a starchy veggie (who's kidding whom here?) but my test strips tell me that they seem to accentuate the carbs in anything else I eat. I do have to go shopping at least twice a week, since fruits spoil quickly, and there's only so much room in the 'fridge.
It's a good thing I don't drink my carbs. For years it's been diet sodas, diet lemonades and fruity teas, water, and coffee. Morning coffee turned over a year ago into morning mocha, but I found a cocoa brand months ago that offers a good sugarless variety, 1/2 carb unit the way I do it, and still makes good mocha. I found months ago that I need a little something to get my stomach to accept the plethora of pills I cram into it with my morning cuppa, and besides, this is my daily allotment of chocolate, a necessary ingredient in quality-of-life. Since I have my mocha first thing and delay breakfast till about 8:30, I can still get a full set of carbs in for breakfast. That's 30-45 grams. You try reading labels to see how it works!
I'm supposed to have a bedtime carb. Many days I'm just finishing supper in time to run a test strip before bed, and a late carb just wouldn't get tested. So I choose no snack, a slice of meat, or if it's early enough, maybe a slice of toast, possibly with margarine and garlic. Hold the garlic if it's raisin toast.
The reason for a bedtime carb is that the liver tends to decide by morning that there's not enough sugar in the bloodstream and releases some of its store, shooting blood sugar levels up. It doesn't seem to happen to me. So I don't take the bedtime carb as a religious mandate.
One side effect of the change in diet is its effect as a diet. I've been losing weight, slowly but surely. Steve noticed, as did Steph. Apparently mostly it's around my middle, something greatly to be desired, but not really noticeable until I stand up. However, the uniform man-shirt I wear for work now buttons at the bottom button, and those are designed to taper in where we girls taper out. Monday I go in for a weighing on the original scale from 2 1/2 months ago, and find out if all these different scales in all these different offices are uniformly set. I figure it counts more on the same scale. If all are equal, two weeks ago it was 14 lbs. down. Or 29 lbs. less than my overall max.
The good news here is that I can pretty much monitor the blood sugar and treat the allergies on an ongoing basis if the state shuts down or I've exceeded my insurance limit already. The surgeries I already figured out will need to be postponed, unless I happen to win the lottery.
Yeah, that'll happen. Of course, the lottery office also shuts down July 1st if the state does.
But the two most important things will get taken care of.
And Koda can come back and sleep in my room again, after a few months. That's not to be sneezed at. Hopefully.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Button Button
Who's got the button?
Do children still play that game? I've been playing my own version of it, looking for suitable buttons, ever since I purchased my silk. The fabric shop was great for fabric, but not so much for buttons that I thought would work with it.
Oh sure, I could have bought those self-covered buttons you put the same fabric over as what you were sewing. Boring! And besides, I never was very good at doing that without wrinkles and lumps. That option would be my very last resort.
It seems that the world is buying tan colored buttons these days. Or at least that's what they're selling. Or novelty buttons. The individual cat buttons were cute, though expensive, and my friend Joan would love them, but I couldn't see them for a wedding. Nor silver, pewter, copper or gold-toned, round, squared, or bamboo-shaped oblongs.
Steph suggested I stop in a Hancock Fabrics sometime, so I decided to check them out online, see where they were located these days. Not only did I find their website and three locations, I found their pages of buttons listings. OK, let's check them out. Page 1, nothing I wanted. Page 2, nothing. Page 3, 4, 5....8, 9... Dang! I'm bleary eyed but nothing jumps out at me but my own impatience.
OK, how about a general web search? I'm thinking pink buttons, so Google that. The first site promises any buttons I want, so click and... Oh. Do-it-yourself political pins. Hey, dummies, those are pins, not buttons! Next site is... shirts after shirts in all colors, each bearing buttons. And none even my size, to add insult to frustration.
Big help!
Hey, here's an idea, how about seeing if anybody makes rose quartz buttons? I'm thinking using some rose quartz beads in the necklace I plan to make, after all. Click. Hmmm, button earrings. Button beads. Button beads? Where do these people come up with these things?
Pink pearl buttons brings me more jewelry, no buttons. Sewing notions helps narrow it down a bit, but still nothing useful. It's been about half an hour so far. I'm about to tear my hair out. Even eBay, my old friend, is not much help. I finally wind up on a website called Etsy that sells, of all things, buttons! Real, honest to gosh, buttons!
Somehow I wind up looking at some Czech art glass buttons, iridescent pink/green with gold dragonflies across the front. Intriguing, but at 1 11/16", way too huge, not to mention pricey. Still, I'm interested enough to email the seller and ask her if they ever come in smaller sizes, explaining my project and needs. Since she's in eastern Europe, there's a bit of a time thing going on, so I'm not expecting an immediate answer.
But hey, she, specifically, is selling lots more buttons, and I decide to explore her store. There are still lots of buttons that in no way fill my color needs, but eventually I come across some roses that are iridescent red/pink/whatever, and come in 1" and 7/8" sizes. I make a note of them to come back to. Then I fine clear/iridescent roses, same sizes. After much searching, and finding lots more dragonfly buttons, again in huge sizes, I decide to order a couple sets of the red/pink roses. Worst possible case, they clash. Best possible case, they work out beautifully. In any case, it's bedtime and I'm done searching.
Next day she answers my inquiry letting me know she'll check on smaller dragonfly buttons for me, and what sizes would I like? I tell her, and last night's email she says she's found some, but it's dark there and she'll send me pictures after it's day for her so she can get good pictures. I tell her I've already ordered some from her in the roses, but am still interested. After all, what the heck? I might be able to use them in another project, or even come to like them better than the roses. Who knows?
We keep corresponding in hours-separate chunks.
Button, button, I'll soon have some buttons.
Do children still play that game? I've been playing my own version of it, looking for suitable buttons, ever since I purchased my silk. The fabric shop was great for fabric, but not so much for buttons that I thought would work with it.
Oh sure, I could have bought those self-covered buttons you put the same fabric over as what you were sewing. Boring! And besides, I never was very good at doing that without wrinkles and lumps. That option would be my very last resort.
It seems that the world is buying tan colored buttons these days. Or at least that's what they're selling. Or novelty buttons. The individual cat buttons were cute, though expensive, and my friend Joan would love them, but I couldn't see them for a wedding. Nor silver, pewter, copper or gold-toned, round, squared, or bamboo-shaped oblongs.
Steph suggested I stop in a Hancock Fabrics sometime, so I decided to check them out online, see where they were located these days. Not only did I find their website and three locations, I found their pages of buttons listings. OK, let's check them out. Page 1, nothing I wanted. Page 2, nothing. Page 3, 4, 5....8, 9... Dang! I'm bleary eyed but nothing jumps out at me but my own impatience.
OK, how about a general web search? I'm thinking pink buttons, so Google that. The first site promises any buttons I want, so click and... Oh. Do-it-yourself political pins. Hey, dummies, those are pins, not buttons! Next site is... shirts after shirts in all colors, each bearing buttons. And none even my size, to add insult to frustration.
Big help!
Hey, here's an idea, how about seeing if anybody makes rose quartz buttons? I'm thinking using some rose quartz beads in the necklace I plan to make, after all. Click. Hmmm, button earrings. Button beads. Button beads? Where do these people come up with these things?
Pink pearl buttons brings me more jewelry, no buttons. Sewing notions helps narrow it down a bit, but still nothing useful. It's been about half an hour so far. I'm about to tear my hair out. Even eBay, my old friend, is not much help. I finally wind up on a website called Etsy that sells, of all things, buttons! Real, honest to gosh, buttons!
Somehow I wind up looking at some Czech art glass buttons, iridescent pink/green with gold dragonflies across the front. Intriguing, but at 1 11/16", way too huge, not to mention pricey. Still, I'm interested enough to email the seller and ask her if they ever come in smaller sizes, explaining my project and needs. Since she's in eastern Europe, there's a bit of a time thing going on, so I'm not expecting an immediate answer.
But hey, she, specifically, is selling lots more buttons, and I decide to explore her store. There are still lots of buttons that in no way fill my color needs, but eventually I come across some roses that are iridescent red/pink/whatever, and come in 1" and 7/8" sizes. I make a note of them to come back to. Then I fine clear/iridescent roses, same sizes. After much searching, and finding lots more dragonfly buttons, again in huge sizes, I decide to order a couple sets of the red/pink roses. Worst possible case, they clash. Best possible case, they work out beautifully. In any case, it's bedtime and I'm done searching.
Next day she answers my inquiry letting me know she'll check on smaller dragonfly buttons for me, and what sizes would I like? I tell her, and last night's email she says she's found some, but it's dark there and she'll send me pictures after it's day for her so she can get good pictures. I tell her I've already ordered some from her in the roses, but am still interested. After all, what the heck? I might be able to use them in another project, or even come to like them better than the roses. Who knows?
We keep corresponding in hours-separate chunks.
Button, button, I'll soon have some buttons.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Hijab: A New Use
We've all seen them by now, even if only in photos. It's the headscarf worn by Muslim women to show their modesty in accordance to their religious beliefs. We've heard all sorts of things in the news about whether they should be worn in schools or for driver's license photos. I've even held a discussion with one woman about whether the beautiful colors in the scarves worn by many women properly preserves that modesty. She, wearing grey, thought not. But I don't recall anything about how useful they can be.
Yesterday I saw evidence of that. Stopped at a light, I watched an oncoming turning driver slowly pass. Neatly tucked into her hijab was her Blackberry, right over her ear. Hands-free cell phone talking while driving, Muslim style, was my first thought. That was until I saw that the freed-up hand was now free for smoking, not driving.
Yesterday I saw evidence of that. Stopped at a light, I watched an oncoming turning driver slowly pass. Neatly tucked into her hijab was her Blackberry, right over her ear. Hands-free cell phone talking while driving, Muslim style, was my first thought. That was until I saw that the freed-up hand was now free for smoking, not driving.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Wedding Plans
I just love it when I've planed something in my head and once I start to execute the plan, everything just falls together. But that was about the last thing that happened yesterday. Let's back up a bit first.
I keep getting asked, "When's the wedding?" It's next Valentines Day, or Feb. 14th for those who don't know that's redundant. I'm sorry for the inconvenience of it being on a Tuesday, but them's the breaks. It's all about the romance. I knew I'd never get married again unless there was a damn good reason, and it had better include romance. I don't mean infatuation. I mean those little gestures that tell the other person that you think of them. Without going into all the details, let's just sum it up in Steve being the most romantic man I know well enough to know that about.
With that date, I knew I'd have to select a site early, and I did, in Shafer. In fact, the site is being donated as a very generous wedding gift. It will host both the wedding and reception, having a nice commercial-type kitchen on premises.
Since that's the date, it's also the color scheme. Add rubies to the diamonds in the ring(s). Pick decorations, flowers, clothing in the white-pink-rose-red spectrum. For example, for flowers I'm thinking a variety of roses and stargazer lilies. The ladies/girls of the bridal party have been asked to pick out their own choice of clothing in that range. I'm not dictating outfits with lots of frou-frou that will never be worn again. Jordan selected a pink prom dress that she plans to use a second time as bridesmaid at the wedding. Steph, as matron of honor, went fabric-shopping with me yesterday. Or should I say silk shopping. She didn't find anything for herself, but she's got lots of time, and now knows what the bride will wear.
On the way to pick her up after work, I got two phone calls from Steve. He's heard back from the mother of a young grandson of his, giving permission for him to be ring-bearer. We already have selected one of his granddaughters for flower girl. The day we announced the engagement to his family, she called back and asked for the privilege, and we both were tickled, of course saying yes. His second call was to tell me her mother now has both my phone numbers so we can consult on her outfit. I'm thinking if her mom knows somebody who can sew, I can assist with some of the left-over silk from my outfit as a starting place for hers.
I put a lot of thought into what I'm going to wear. I've done the white-dress-and-veil number. Not going there again, in so many ways. As mother-of-the-bride when Steph got married, I sewed a tunic vest and pants outfit to wear over a (cheap) silk blouse. It was a linen-look fabric in ivory, with embroidered trim with tiny pearls wound through hand stitched in a border all around. It's been sitting in my closet ever since. I'll be able to fit it again by time of the wedding. So this time, I wanted to find a really nice piece of silk in a very intense, deep/hot pink to make a blouse/tunic to fit under the vest.
I had very exacting standards of what I wanted, and not just in the color. I had come across a variety of silk fabric a few years ago that was quite expensive, fairly thick compared to the Wal-Mart silk shirts I picked up long ago, slightly less shiny, and absolutely flowed. Feels like a little slice of heaven when worn. Not to mention I haven't managed to put a wrinkle in the black shirt-jacket I picked up back then. Yep, black, and not good for a wedding, at least not mine. I've worn it to a nephew's wedding over a long sundress, but it just isn't bride material. I wanted that specific kind of silk, just a different color. And maybe a different pattern. And help from Steph in using her sewing room, since I no longer have one.
I'd looked for the old JoAnn Fabrics in Rosedale, but that's a vacant storefront in a strip mall now. The yellow pages flaunted an ad for a store specializing in natural fabric, and silk qualifies, so I called. Yes, they had lots of silk, many varieties, and if they didn't have what I wanted, they could order. (They half-renegged on that after I walked in, but by then it didn't matter.) They threw lots of names past me, but I still don't know what a shantung is, or whether I like it. All I ever learned is the difference between raw and processed silk, and that came from my years of running a dry cleaners. What I wanted was processed, and that's all I still know about it.
Treadle Yard Goods is located on the corner of Hamline and Grand in St. Paul, across the street from the rightly-famous Green Mill Pizza. Steph offered to spring for supper, but shopping came first. The bolts of fabric are located on tables with signs on top stating what kind of fabric they held. The second sign from the front door said "Silk", and right in front shouting at us was the perfect color. We checked it against me and along side the vest I'd brought for just that purpose. It turned out to be the right fabric as well, and we had hopes there was enough left on the bolt. Of course, we grabbed it and then wandered around a bit to drool over some of the other selections before we had it measured. Six and a half yards, 45" wide. You don't want to know price per yard.
We took it all. It's nice to have plastic. There will be extra for - worst case - mistakes, or for pocket squares for the groomsmen and something for the flower girl if she chooses. Or perhaps a sash for future years and fashion changes, since I plan to wear this blouse often.
Since they conveniently had seating in front of the pattern books, we spent time there as well, finally settling on just the right one needing the fewest alterations to match my mental image. Buttons, not so much choice. They'll come later, as will additional trims as I decide what they should be.
Meanwhile, it will sit in my closet until later in the year when we'll start measuring and cutting. For now, tiny pieces have been cut out and will be sent to those concerned for color blending, or just drooling over the fabric. Oh, and I have one in my pocketbook for future shopping reference.
Supper afterward was as great as the shopping had been.
I keep getting asked, "When's the wedding?" It's next Valentines Day, or Feb. 14th for those who don't know that's redundant. I'm sorry for the inconvenience of it being on a Tuesday, but them's the breaks. It's all about the romance. I knew I'd never get married again unless there was a damn good reason, and it had better include romance. I don't mean infatuation. I mean those little gestures that tell the other person that you think of them. Without going into all the details, let's just sum it up in Steve being the most romantic man I know well enough to know that about.
With that date, I knew I'd have to select a site early, and I did, in Shafer. In fact, the site is being donated as a very generous wedding gift. It will host both the wedding and reception, having a nice commercial-type kitchen on premises.
Since that's the date, it's also the color scheme. Add rubies to the diamonds in the ring(s). Pick decorations, flowers, clothing in the white-pink-rose-red spectrum. For example, for flowers I'm thinking a variety of roses and stargazer lilies. The ladies/girls of the bridal party have been asked to pick out their own choice of clothing in that range. I'm not dictating outfits with lots of frou-frou that will never be worn again. Jordan selected a pink prom dress that she plans to use a second time as bridesmaid at the wedding. Steph, as matron of honor, went fabric-shopping with me yesterday. Or should I say silk shopping. She didn't find anything for herself, but she's got lots of time, and now knows what the bride will wear.
On the way to pick her up after work, I got two phone calls from Steve. He's heard back from the mother of a young grandson of his, giving permission for him to be ring-bearer. We already have selected one of his granddaughters for flower girl. The day we announced the engagement to his family, she called back and asked for the privilege, and we both were tickled, of course saying yes. His second call was to tell me her mother now has both my phone numbers so we can consult on her outfit. I'm thinking if her mom knows somebody who can sew, I can assist with some of the left-over silk from my outfit as a starting place for hers.
I put a lot of thought into what I'm going to wear. I've done the white-dress-and-veil number. Not going there again, in so many ways. As mother-of-the-bride when Steph got married, I sewed a tunic vest and pants outfit to wear over a (cheap) silk blouse. It was a linen-look fabric in ivory, with embroidered trim with tiny pearls wound through hand stitched in a border all around. It's been sitting in my closet ever since. I'll be able to fit it again by time of the wedding. So this time, I wanted to find a really nice piece of silk in a very intense, deep/hot pink to make a blouse/tunic to fit under the vest.
I had very exacting standards of what I wanted, and not just in the color. I had come across a variety of silk fabric a few years ago that was quite expensive, fairly thick compared to the Wal-Mart silk shirts I picked up long ago, slightly less shiny, and absolutely flowed. Feels like a little slice of heaven when worn. Not to mention I haven't managed to put a wrinkle in the black shirt-jacket I picked up back then. Yep, black, and not good for a wedding, at least not mine. I've worn it to a nephew's wedding over a long sundress, but it just isn't bride material. I wanted that specific kind of silk, just a different color. And maybe a different pattern. And help from Steph in using her sewing room, since I no longer have one.
I'd looked for the old JoAnn Fabrics in Rosedale, but that's a vacant storefront in a strip mall now. The yellow pages flaunted an ad for a store specializing in natural fabric, and silk qualifies, so I called. Yes, they had lots of silk, many varieties, and if they didn't have what I wanted, they could order. (They half-renegged on that after I walked in, but by then it didn't matter.) They threw lots of names past me, but I still don't know what a shantung is, or whether I like it. All I ever learned is the difference between raw and processed silk, and that came from my years of running a dry cleaners. What I wanted was processed, and that's all I still know about it.
Treadle Yard Goods is located on the corner of Hamline and Grand in St. Paul, across the street from the rightly-famous Green Mill Pizza. Steph offered to spring for supper, but shopping came first. The bolts of fabric are located on tables with signs on top stating what kind of fabric they held. The second sign from the front door said "Silk", and right in front shouting at us was the perfect color. We checked it against me and along side the vest I'd brought for just that purpose. It turned out to be the right fabric as well, and we had hopes there was enough left on the bolt. Of course, we grabbed it and then wandered around a bit to drool over some of the other selections before we had it measured. Six and a half yards, 45" wide. You don't want to know price per yard.
We took it all. It's nice to have plastic. There will be extra for - worst case - mistakes, or for pocket squares for the groomsmen and something for the flower girl if she chooses. Or perhaps a sash for future years and fashion changes, since I plan to wear this blouse often.
Since they conveniently had seating in front of the pattern books, we spent time there as well, finally settling on just the right one needing the fewest alterations to match my mental image. Buttons, not so much choice. They'll come later, as will additional trims as I decide what they should be.
Meanwhile, it will sit in my closet until later in the year when we'll start measuring and cutting. For now, tiny pieces have been cut out and will be sent to those concerned for color blending, or just drooling over the fabric. Oh, and I have one in my pocketbook for future shopping reference.
Supper afterward was as great as the shopping had been.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Fussy
I've become something of a cottage cheese connoiseur recently. Who knew? It's not as if I set out with it as a goal or something. It's just that I've been packing it in my work cooler for breakfasts and lunches a lot lately. It's tasty - or at least my favorite brand never disappoints - has premeasured amounts for steady, dependable nutrition values, and is great with fruits. Those are fast to add for quick total prep time on a busy rushin-out-the-door-late morning, as most are these days. I vary sliced bananas, strawberries, blueberries, peaches, cherries and raspberries as the add-in. They all work great except the raspberries. There's something about them that demands being eaten on the side, that just doesn't quite mix right. That's OK, I still love raspberries.
When I hit the store, I tend to buy several days' worth. I shop often enough as it is, keeping track of my needs, household needs, and my dad's needs. Trouble is, often somebody else gets there before I do and the pickins are slim. So I've tried other brands. That's how I found out I've become a connoisseur.
I started with Old Home, the cottage cheese of my Minnesota childhood. Now you know that means it's been around a long time. And it's just as good as it ever was: lovely flavor, firm curds, very little whey left in the carton or separated out, nice and white. Exactly as I remember and prefer it.
Only...
These days it comes in low-fat too. And that's just as good. That's the carton I go for first.
One day they were very low on that so I tried Land O Lakes. Local brand again, good rep, reasonable price. It was almost as good as the Old Home, just a bit yellowish, a wee bit of whey swimming on the top, and nearly the flavor of the other. Perfectly adequate, just not first choice.
Last week I saw a new brand, Daisy, with a sticker price $.50 cheaper a carton. I figured why not? The way I'm going through it, 5 cartons a week, I could save a chunk.
Big mistake. Worse mistake was buying two cartons without waiting for the taste test results. The first bite told me all I needed to know. Texture soft, not well-defined curds. Mushy. Ick. In some things, texture is a real biggy, the feel of it in your mouth or between your teeth telling half the story of your satisfaction and willingness - craving, even - to take the next bite. This one failed. Even worse was the flavor. It more resembled cardboard and paste than it did cottage cheese, and don't make the mistake and think I'm referring back to that delightful library paste we snuck tastes of back in grade school. That had zip! This had more of a gag quotient than anything else.
Unfortunately, I'd packed it for both breakfast and lunch, with nothing to fill in in its stead, and no time nor opportunity to find a replacement. Plus, I'd mixed in some lovely blueberries, really well stirred and blended, and there was no way I was going to let the blueberries go to waste. I did my best to pick them out of the surrounding crud, but inevitably some clung and I wound up eating it.
On a positive note, my dog isn't a connoiseur and was delighted to get some free people-food protein. He'll eat almost anything off a plate that finds its way to the floor.
I informed Paul that if he can find a recipe to use the second carton so it disguises the flavor, like maybe lasagne, he's welcome to it. Otherwise he can feed it to the dog or dump it in the trash. I refuse to eat it.
Tonight I picked up all six of the Old Home low fat cottage cheese cartons in the case.
When I hit the store, I tend to buy several days' worth. I shop often enough as it is, keeping track of my needs, household needs, and my dad's needs. Trouble is, often somebody else gets there before I do and the pickins are slim. So I've tried other brands. That's how I found out I've become a connoisseur.
I started with Old Home, the cottage cheese of my Minnesota childhood. Now you know that means it's been around a long time. And it's just as good as it ever was: lovely flavor, firm curds, very little whey left in the carton or separated out, nice and white. Exactly as I remember and prefer it.
Only...
These days it comes in low-fat too. And that's just as good. That's the carton I go for first.
One day they were very low on that so I tried Land O Lakes. Local brand again, good rep, reasonable price. It was almost as good as the Old Home, just a bit yellowish, a wee bit of whey swimming on the top, and nearly the flavor of the other. Perfectly adequate, just not first choice.
Last week I saw a new brand, Daisy, with a sticker price $.50 cheaper a carton. I figured why not? The way I'm going through it, 5 cartons a week, I could save a chunk.
Big mistake. Worse mistake was buying two cartons without waiting for the taste test results. The first bite told me all I needed to know. Texture soft, not well-defined curds. Mushy. Ick. In some things, texture is a real biggy, the feel of it in your mouth or between your teeth telling half the story of your satisfaction and willingness - craving, even - to take the next bite. This one failed. Even worse was the flavor. It more resembled cardboard and paste than it did cottage cheese, and don't make the mistake and think I'm referring back to that delightful library paste we snuck tastes of back in grade school. That had zip! This had more of a gag quotient than anything else.
Unfortunately, I'd packed it for both breakfast and lunch, with nothing to fill in in its stead, and no time nor opportunity to find a replacement. Plus, I'd mixed in some lovely blueberries, really well stirred and blended, and there was no way I was going to let the blueberries go to waste. I did my best to pick them out of the surrounding crud, but inevitably some clung and I wound up eating it.
On a positive note, my dog isn't a connoiseur and was delighted to get some free people-food protein. He'll eat almost anything off a plate that finds its way to the floor.
I informed Paul that if he can find a recipe to use the second carton so it disguises the flavor, like maybe lasagne, he's welcome to it. Otherwise he can feed it to the dog or dump it in the trash. I refuse to eat it.
Tonight I picked up all six of the Old Home low fat cottage cheese cartons in the case.
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