I just found out why the TU never printed my letter.
It's still in my drafts folder.
This is the first time the cottonwood stickypods have bugged me — perhaps because it's the first time I've hung clothes out barefoot.
I hung out three loads. A perfect day for drying clothes was predicted, so I put a load of towels in to soak in detergent yesterday evening, and this morning I bleached them and rinsed them in hot water. I also decided it was a good day to wash a king-size sheet that won't fit on a drying rack, so there wasn't much else in the second load.
In the evening the windsock was limp and Weather Underground said that the wind would continue to diminish, so I burned the sticks Dave picked up yesterday.
We had wings for supper. Dave ordered sixteen and there were nine left over. Gone be chicken for lunch for a while.
Thinking of scrubbing the stickypods off my feet made me remember Mom sending me out to the porch with a wash basin and orders not to come in until those little feet were pink.
It's harder to get them clean than it used to be, but it doesn't tickle as much.
I should buy a wash basin so I can soak them first.
We placed a Martin's order today, and for the second time in a row, were told to pick it up that very evening.
Which is lucky, because we drank the last of our milk with supper.
In other good news, Duck Down and Above is now open for curbside delivery, so I can resume twenty-mile, all-flat rides to Leesburg. I may need to work up to it; I haven't gone more than ten miles since lockdown, and I haven't ridden every week.
Dave has figured out what happened the day we had the paramedics in: he was having a stroke.
He was having no hallucinations at all when he got up this morning; the gabapentin may be getting dialed in to the correct dose. Either that or his brain is getting the hang of routing around the damaged area. Eating still brings the hallucinations back, particularly carbohydrates. On the other hand, he hasn't seen things like black elephants or cartoon squirrels for quite a while.
I'm getting ready to get up at six, jump into the car, and go to Fort Wayne tomorrow morning. I told Dave I wouldn't stop at Gordon's on the way back (as I did the last time I drove myself to this part of Fort Wayne) because I'd make a lousy widow.
He retorted that a ninety-five year-old just survived, and I started a discussion of our emergency-medical incidents, which reminded him of his deduction.
I don't know what was going on when he thought the temporal arteritis was coming back, but one of the tests they did trying to find out turned up the two lesions from the stroke. Hence, the gabapentin. Also a stronger blood-pressure medication.
But I should have simply said "And how do you know this? Because it was *news*!"
The pain under my pressure bandage ranges from ignorable to "I didn't notice", but I really, really, REALLY want to scratch my nose.
Which would be very bad, because there's a partly-done skin graft under there. The doctor said that he wanted it to heal a couple of days before he moved it, so I have to make that drive again on Wednesday.
And refrain from bending over or lifting anything heavy in the meantime.
And sleep in a recliner. I took two of Dave's OTC medications at bedtime — melatonin and benedril — and that helped, but I still got up earlier than usual despite staying up until half-past one.
Using the grabber to get clothes out of the washing machine meant that I could take only one item at a time, so I shook each one out and sorted them. I may continue to do that.
By dint of leaving three non-essential items for next week, I got it all into one load.
Oops! I think I should have had more shirts to wash. Dave's cat shirt is in the dryer, but I didn't wash any of my shirts.
Of course, I washed my striped T-shirt on Monday, when I undressed into the washing machine. And I grabbed some underwear out of the hamper, which helped fit today's wash into one load.
I didn't think I could wash my hair without endangering my pressure bandage, so I just combed peroxide through it.
I wash my hair in peroxide, so we had three bottles when lockdown started. It was just yesterday that I finished off the one in the shower room, replaced it with the nearly-full bottle in Dave's bathroom, and moved the reserve bottle from the laundry closet to Dave's sink. Ordinarily, that would signal time to buy another, but two bottles should last until I can go into Owen's.
I've added "peroxide" to the shopping list in the file "release.txt".
Oh, this is terrible: Weather Underground says that Thursday and Friday of next week will be partly cloudy to mostly sunny, with no rain and not a lot of wind: perfect riding weather. If I called Duck Down and Above for curb service, I could accept an appointment on either day.
I didn't even ask about bike riding after the doctor told me not to bend over or lie on a bed, and he isn't due to give me new advice until Tuesday of the week after next.
At least I get to take the bandage on my lip off this afternoon. It's hard to get food into my mouth without dirtying it; I think I spilled some milk inside while eating my breakfast cereal.
⁂
When I peeled the bandage off my chin, I regretted growing a beard.
But while inspecting the incision, I noticed that the beard is starting to look like a beard.
The donor site didn't look nearly as icky after I washed off the blood, but I suspect that I'll have a guideline the next time I paint my face for halloween. Dr. Danckaert (Pronounce Dane Kurt) centered it nicely.
And the bandaid I put over it is *much* less obtrusive than the pressure bandage. I don't think I even noticed it when I was eating Birdseye Chicken Alfredo for supper.
Dave liked the Alfredo so much that he ordered two more Birdseye skillet meals, to be picked up tomorrow along with forty other items. He commented that the order was smaller than previous orders, but it still took five sheets of paper to print it out.
I hope we get yogurt and flatbuns this time.
We got the yogurt but didn't get the flatbuns. Does "don't lift more than ten pounds" rule out kneading bread dough? I'd best not before Wednesday; the "ten pounds" is for a week.
It's a beautiful day and it's prime weeding season, and "don't bend over" doesn't have an expiration date.
And I really shouldn't talk about it, because thinking about my nose makes the pressure bandage itch around the edges.
Yesterday I felt itching in the graft, which I think is a good sign — it can't itch if there aren't any nerves in it.
On the other hand, the injury in my hip hurts down the leg, and when I had a cavity, it hurt in the space between two teeth, so the itching isn't necessarily in the graft.
It's raining hard enough that I'd have to wade through a puddle to get out of the house, and Weather Underground doesn't predict that it will let up before Tuesday.
I really need that walk when I can't do anything else for exercise, but I ain't going.
⁂
I am told that I fell off the porch when I was three, and that Nancy cried more than I did.
I wonder whether Nancy cried louder because she could see the blood and I couldn't? That scar looks a lot like the one on my chin from getting slapped in the face by a diving float, and I scared the feathers off the camp nurse when I went to her for a band-aid.
I didn't know that the lake water dripping off me had been dyed *red*.
When changing the bandage on the donor site tonight, I noticed that the scar is closer to the center than it used to be.
I did walk to the church today, wiped the gaskets of the fridges, and climbed all the stairs. The library door was open, so I sat for a while. I read the part of "Your Chariot Awaits" where the protagonist's house is trashed by burglars, she gets her limousine back, and accepts a plea to provide transportation at a wedding to earn money to repair the trunk the police had de-lined while searching for clues as to why her rejected boyfriend's corpse was in it.
I also looked at the Little Libraries in the park on my way up, but didn't touch any of the books.
We had a little excitement Monday evening. I went into the kitchen intending to put some milk into the bagged dinner in the skillet and put the skillet on the fire, and discovered that Dave's head hurt so bad that he had to go to the emergency room. I shoved the skillet into the fridge, but discovered an hour or two later that I'd left the milk on the counter.
I shoved shirt, pants, socks, shoes, and my mask into my go-bag. Dave forgot his phone, which I discovered after being sent home to wait.
I walked around barefoot and in house pajamas for a while, but put my shoes on before going in to ask how long.
They never did find out what brought on the headache, but prescribed medicine for his sore shoulder and added to his collection of test results. We stopped at Walgreen's to fill the prescription, as Zale's had closed for the night.
I made him a fried cheese sandwich when I got him home. I'd eaten a zapped canadian-bacon-and-egg sandwich while waiting.
We ate the skillet dinner yesterday. It was good. I had added some frozen baby limas, and chunks of asparagus stems and winter onion.
We had wings for supper this evening.
My sore chin interferes with bone gnawing. Seems to be healing well.
We could tell where the banks of the creek are this morning, and the water is a bit lower than that now.
As far as I know, nothing but the park was flooded on this side of the lake. The paper says that some streets in Warsaw were closed.
I was expecting that my fourth-of-July party would be "bring your own chair, no refreshments, and don't talk to the host", but Wednesday's paper says that it isn't going to happen at all. Or implies; there was no mention of fireworks.
I finished making insoles for my too-loose cycling sandals this morning. Now all I need is permission to get back on the bike.
I thought I could simply buy a pair of Dr. Scholls, but ready-made insoles pride themselves on being thin. I sewed five layers of wool flannel together.
No new cases, as of Friday, which might get me back inside Tractor Supply by July. On the other hand, a chart put up by a mathematician at Grace College shows new cases trending up for the last couple of weeks.
I've known all along that Kosciusko County has been lucky, but one chart with colored lines for each of the nearby counties shows that we have been unbelievably lucky. I attribute that in part to a mayor who, at the beginning of lockdown, said "Technically, leaving your house is a misdemeanor, but we are not going to prosecute." In other words, if you think it's essential, it's essential.
No courthouse Farmers' Market for me this year; their customers adamantly refuse to wear masks and insist on getting close. I might try the fairgrounds market, where the customers are fewer and have better manners.
It's only a quarter past nine and I'm ready to step out, despite having fiddle-faddled around. If it were a normal Sunday, I would have time to clean the gaskets, change the ice trays, take part in coffee hour, and read some more of _Your Chariot Awaits_ before the service starts.
Dave and I both get up earlier when we sleep in separate beds.
And I save ten minutes by not doing exercises before I get up. I think it would be fine and dandy to resume back exercises now, but I see the doctor the day after tomorrow, so it's wiser to wait. I hope he okays the road bike, now that there are two places I can go.
Limited services are back in session, so I'm going to wait until everyone is in the sanctuary. And settle for wiping the gaskets; I still don't think it's a good idea to touch the ice. There will probably be people social-distancing in the narthex, but I can stay in the basement. Nobody but me ever uses the back staircases, so I can still work on my balance.
Climbing stairs very, very slowly is a good way to improve your balance, but USE THE HANDRAILS WHEN GOING DOWN.
In addition to the example Mom set when she got her hip and shoulder broken into gravel, when we were in New York, I once trotted down one fewer step than there was when I was rushing to the cellar to stop the washing machine. It took forever to stop limping.
The Weekend paper has an article on "pickling". But the recipes are for marinated vegetables.
It wasn't until yesterday that I realized that cutting an eighth of an inch off each end of the tape of a band-aid before I stuck it to my chin would make it ever so much more comfortable.
He might tell me that the donor site doesn't need protection after the stitches come out.
The bandage on my nose is getting very ratty; I hope it can hang in there for sixteen more hours.
I keep telling myself that if the graft didn't take, I'd smell it. But stressing my nose might make the scar bigger without causing a complete failure.
We had Race Day leftovers for lunch and supper today. Donny just had to get out of the house. Pity the garden benches are still in the garage; we had to visit standing up. But clearing them off is my job, and I ain't bending over.
I haven't dug winter onions lately either. They are going to seed, but the seed stalks are still crisp and juicy. The onions on the south side of the garage are less vigorous, but farther along. Despite my habit of throwing Al's turds in that direction, the soil is very poor. I never harvest those, but sometimes discard sprouts from the garden there.
The nose bandage is still hanging in there.
I got a piece of twill tape out for a waiting-room hand-sewing project, very carefully fitted all the tapes back into the box, and put it back on the shelf.
Whereupon, with no provocation whatsoever, the box leaped off the shelf and scattered its contents everywhere.
But while cleaning up the mess, I FOUND MY BICYCLE
KEY CHAIN, which has been missing for weeks.
Just in time; with any luck at all, Dr. Danckaert
(checks appointment card: Hey! I
spelled that right!)
will green-light bike riding, and I have *two*
places I can go.
I can also go downtown on Saturday, as long as I don't stop anywhere. Might put my pre-lockdown book into the book return at the library. If I can still find it. And recognize it when I do.
⁂
We have a gadget that sounds a buzzer whenever something moves in the driveway.
"The Gravel Doctor" is freshening up our driveway.
⁂
Sigh, no bending and no bike riding until June 3rd. And I'm strictly "clean with a damp rag" because the strips that replaced the sutures on my chin must be kept dry.
But I can resume back exercises if I move slowly and don't do anything that might tense up my face.
The dressing on the nose must not be disturbed, but she did change the bandages that hold it in place. I still think I've got mayonnaise on my glasses, but not nearly as much mayonnaise, and that loose bit that stuck straight out is gone.
The driveway looks much better. Dave says that the guy said it will look even better after a rain.
I never noticed pink maple wings before this year. Dave says he hadn't either. When one lies at just the right angle to the sun, it looks purple.
They track in, but at least don't stick. I wasn't much bothered by the cottonwood stickypods this year; I don't know why. Perhaps I wore shoes more often.
I saw a chipmunk on the porch bench this morning. I think it was smaller and darker than what I think of as a chipmunk, but just as I was turning my eyes toward it, it tried to jump onto the cane-bottom chair Mom inherited from Blanch Lane, bounced off the window, and fell out of sight.
I'd like to pass the chair on to the next generation, by the way.
I think it was last Friday or Saturday that our new kitchen chairs arrived. Dave likes them very much. Our feet dangle a bit, which Dave likes and I don't mind. They are on castors that roll easily on the linoleum. (Better a name that I know doesn't fit than a wild guess at what the floor cover is really made of.)
The arms are a continuation of the front legs, and extend back just far enough.
I weeded the volunteer multiplier onions today, sitting on Dave's little rolling garden stool. I stood up each time I moved it, lest I roll over what I was weeding. The ground was soft enough to make pulling weeds easy, but not so soft that the wheels of the stool sank in. It isn't supposed to rain on Saturday and Sunday, so the ground should be dry enough on Monday that I can push the cultivator around.
Then it will rain again — and it will be June! Hey, guys, April is over.
The winter onions are a bit far gone for scallions, so I harvested a flowering stalk to put into the tartar sauce. We had lake perch for supper. Dave was not impressed.
I forgot to steam asparagus to have on the side.
A row of multipliers vanished last summer. Most of them have come up, but they are feeble. Perhaps a handful of 12-12-12 will help.
While playing with the Martin's site, I discovered that one can have the hits displayed in alphabetical, rather than totally random, order. That is going to help a lot.
One can also have forty-eight hits per page instead of twenty-four.
But finding dry black-eyed peas is still something you have to luck into while looking for something else. Using magic words gets you frozen black-eyed peas.
The new kitchen chairs called Dave's attention to the table, and we rotated it ninety degrees, opened both drop leaves, and said "why didn't we do this long ago?"
The winter onions in the extra row are still scallions, though they have seeding stalks in them. I'm planning to use all those up and plant beans. I found some old marrowfat bean seeds; perhaps I should put some into a wet paper towel to see whether any still sprout.
I'm feeling the signs of not getting any exercise other than climbing stairs once a week. Today my legs hurt after three trips, and when I stopped moving slowly, I got out of breath. I also feel tired and apathetic more often than usual.
My chin isn't sore any more, but I have orders to put a band-aid on it whenever I go out because sunscreen doesn't protect against wind. I have been taping a dressing over it at bedtime, so I won't brush off the tapes that went on when the sutures came out, but those will be removed on Wednesday.