I hope the April Banner is longer than usual. I printed it out for the first time since I stopped mailing hard copies, and it's fifteen pages long.
I know that it's more incoherent than usual. Off it goes, and y'all can puzzle it out.
We'll have asparagus for supper tomorrow night, if I don't forget that I have some in the refrigerator. I think some of the hills failed to survive the winter, but what's already come up is plenty for two people.
I've a desperate shortage of halfway-decent jeans, and have been wearing for shopping jeans that ought to have been relegated to garden work a year ago. I haven't been wearing my nice poly-wool pants because I thought they were painfully tight, but I found them while searching for my knickers (which still haven't turned up, and I even looked in the laundry hamper) and tried them on, and they are way balloony too big.
??
We had a good storm in the night, with downpouring and thunderbooming and flashes of lightning that I could see with the drapes closed.
But today is bright and sunny and a tad too warm for what I wore to church.
Dave's trying to get by on Ibuprofen today, because he was groggy and confused all day yesterday. His leg is less swollen, and I think the area that's oozing is smaller. Dead skin is peeling off to reveal red skin underneath. It looks revolting, but I think it's a good sign.
He still has to sit on the bed until the morning painkiller kicks in before he can stand up, but he's getting around pretty well. He washed a load of clothes while I was in church.
Found my knickers today. After washing them, I'd hung them on the rod where I hang shirts.
Today's appointment was iron infusion. I hope it helps Dave with feeling tired all the time.
I keep nagging him to drink water. He knows that dehydration makes one groggy, but doesn't know it bone-deep the way I do. As recently as my first attempt at the Tour d' Lakes, I learned yet again that when you're tired, drink water. (I had to call for a ride, but was quite fit by the time Dave got there.)
If you don't count taking out the trash, he hasn't any more appointments for a while.
This morning I spent about half an hour hunting for the Kik-Step so I could plug in the iron. I looked in every room, and closets too small to contain it, but somehow I failed to check the hall bath, where I'd put a freshly-laundered bath mat on the top shelf yesterday or the day before.
Never plugged in the iron, but Dave needed the Kik-Step when he put the battery in the truck on the charger just before nap time/iron-infusion time. He was back and the truck was running when I woke up.
Supper tonight is Hungry Man Mexican Fiesta (an enchilada each) and lots and lots of freshly-picked asparagus.
Evening:
I have made a neat discovery.
A while back I got tired of the huge flashlight we keep in the kitchen drawer, and went to Harbor Freight to buy a small light consisting only of a battery, an LED, an on-off switch, and a casing to hold it all together. The only light answering that description came in a package of two.
I put the extra one in the sewing room, hanging from a magnet stuck to the printer stand so it would be handy for peering into the slot between the tower and the stand. Today, wanting to switch the plug of the only light in the room from the dimmer switch to the surge protector, I discovered that if I turn the flashlight on without removing it from the magnet, it shines on both outlets and leaves both hands free.
Then I plugged in the iron, pressed two T shirts, and ironed Shirt Crisp interfacing to the hems of the front pockets of my new jersey. Assembly at last! I still have some rectangles of black linen to cut out, but not many. Also haven't cut out the yellow collar, since I want to assemble it immediately after cutting the black lining. I *have* cut out the Shirt Crisp interlining.
The flashlight sticks to the magnet indirectly. There is a loop of shoestring attached to each flashlight. I fastened a large coilless safety pin through the loop, then put the loop through the hole in the magnet, wrapped it to the front, and laid the pin on the magnet to keep the loop from coming unwrapped. Very easy to remove and put back.
Whenever I help Dave with a sock, I reflect on how much easier it is for Nancy, the nurse who checked him out of the hospital. This morning I wondered whether my sister Nancy was particularly good at putting socks on other people. Perhaps one of the girls knows. (All e-mails on the topic will be considered publishable unless marked otherwise.)
Dave frequently gets into his socks without help, and the burns are making visible progress. Tonight, he plans to try doing without the pillow he props his swollen leg on while sleeping.
I'm having pastry bites for breakfast. Last month I posted dramatically about my disappointment at finding them inseparable. A week or so ago I got them out determined to have at them with a meat cleaver, but I was delayed and discovered that after five or ten minutes on the counter, the "bites" could be broken apart. Then when I got the other two packages out, I found that the bites in those were separate in the first place.
4:15 / 16:15
Two bits of good news: the emergency trip to Goshen was a false alarm, and when we got home, Dave forgot to bring his walker in.
It's a lovely day to go for a ride, but I can think of places I'd prefer to SR 15.
Yesterday we got the news that Dave's cardiologist has given permission for prostate surgery, and he has an appointment. *And* the appointment is in Warsaw, not Goshen.
In other good news, when he undressed last night, his right sock was perfectly dry, it wasn't wet enough to require pre-rinsing the night before, and at least half of his burn blister has flaked off. The skin-flake trimming scissors are in constant demand.
It didn't hurt much to get out of bed this morning, but his leg is so sore now that he sincerely doesn't want to walk. I suspect atrophy is contributing to that.
Interrupted to consult: Dave and I spell as a team. I can come up with a spelling, and he can tell whether it's the *right* spelling. Sometimes we iterate a bit, but I got "Muncie" on the first try.
Evening:
The asparagus season is over. I went out to pick asparagus before supper, and every last spear had been chewed off, including a particularly fat one I'd been watching.
"Friday the thirteenth done come on a Saturday this month!" — Churchy La Femme
I completely forgot the farmer's markets today. I got such a late start that I couldn't have made it to the fairgrounds or the courthouse anyway, but the Winona market was still going on when I passed it.
On the other hand, I got to Lowery's half an hour before they closed, and met Denise at the check-out and got a look at the embroidered panel she is finishing. I probably wouldn't have made up for the delay by spending less time at the library, since I'd forgotten that Lowery closes at three on Saturdays.
Picked up a prescription and bought a roll of tape at Zale's, then returned a book at the library and searched the graphic novels in vain for something that wasn't superhero trash.
There's a law against a superhero doing anything other than Fight Crime, criminals are hopelessly overmatched so you introduce a supervillain, so the hero has to level up so the villain levels up . . . yeeeeaaawn.
I wouldn't be surprised if that is a written law. You can find the law against allowing a fictional detective to investigate anything other than murder clearly, unambiguously, and emphatically written in how-to books.
I stopped at a second-hand shop while walking from the library to Lowery's. There was a good office chair among the items crowding the sidewalk, but there are years left in my current chair, so I didn't sit in it. Inside, I saw a really-nice embroidered blouse that would look terrible on me even if it were my size.
I hit all three Mexican groceries on the way home. I got guavas and tomatillos at El Padrino, I bought Goya ham-flavor powder and some canned goods at Carniceria San José, but I didn't find anything I wanted in Mi Poblanita.
I'd been thinking that I'd have to ask Dave to Amazon some more ham powder, so I was delighted to see the Goya bouillon.
Ice Cream Social (nee Sweet Dreams) is open, and I thought I'd bring a sandwich home for lunch, but it's a "soft opening" and only two sandwiches are available: bacon with jam, and something, possibly a wrap, that is described in elegant type that no doubt was clearly legible to the person on the ladder when the poster was hung, but I couldn't get that close.
I found this while sorting the out-of-season drawer:
I don't recall wearing it, but I must have had a reason to sew an armband to it.
Got my annual skin check today. Can't find a thing, discontinue the ointment, forget about the mark, and come back in a year.
After she said "hyperpigmentation" and a bunch of stuff I've forgotten, I asked whether I could think of it as a scar, and she said yes. I've had such scars from burns, and they go away after a few years. The first one, which I got by standing on a chair to get something that mother kept on a shelf beside the window over the stove, was a lot farther from the floor when it faded than it had been when I acquired it. I think I'd been fully grown for a while when I noticed that the brown spot above my knee was gone.
Since the appointment was in late afternoon, and was also on the far side of 30, I went to Popeye's to pick up supper. I stopped at Aldi because I was completely out of fish oil, and got some cole slaw to have with the chicken while I was in there.
Which led to a conflict: I had insulated only one pannier, and didn't want to put hot chicken in with cold coleslaw. So I put the box of chicken into the other pannier and packed grocery bags and various objects around it.
The coleslaw was very good, and I had a coleslaw sandwich for my bedtime snack. Which made an all-Aldi meal, I noticed as I was biting into it. The "35-Calorie" bread is an Aldi brand, and the dip I also put on the sandwich started out as Aldi greek yogurt, though it's now primarily blue cheese from Kroger and tomatillo from El Padrino.
It was quite a sprint to get across 30 to go back. 30 is at least six lanes wide (two right-turn lanes), and I was well back in the line.
It beats being the *first* vehicle in a long line!
I got a jolt when I checked the KVC web site for the time of Saturday's Historical Tour. I'm in the picture illustrating it.
In a rather unflattering pose, but you can't see how ugly I am without clicking "view image".
I hate that jersey even more than I did yesterday. I've got to sew faster!
Well, I cut out two iron-on interfacings for the front pockets, and thought about bringing in the ladder so that I could plug in the iron.
⁂
Facebook accidentally let me read the Race Day messages, but went back to blank-paging when I clicked. I click on most of the e-mails that Facebook sends me; one of at least half a dozen message notifications in today's batch worked.
Until I clicked.
I've dropped out of the Red Queen's Race. I know that will end with me living in 1930, with no Raleigh man, no milk man, and no newspaper, but learning to live without a gadget is easier than throwing everything away and starting over from scratch every time a gadget vanishes.
⁂
One more reason to skip the Critical Mass ride that is taking place this evening: it's raining.
⁂
A pair of mallards and ten ducklings are mowing our back yard.
⁂
Today's paper (down at the tail of County Parks Board Approves Master Plan Resolution) again alludes to the very important extension of the Chinworth Trail. This puzzled me when I first read of it because 100 N and Parks-Schram, which extend the Chinworth Trail, are both roads people go out of their way to ride on.
Even more baffling is the repeated reference to the need to serve all those trailer parks when Google Maps says that there isn't even one anywhere near that area. Did I misread "east" as "west"? The trail is already connected to downtown, and though there is plenty of subsidized housing, nary a speck of it could be called "trailer parks".
South? Well, that road is definitely "I don't care where that side road goes, I'm taking it!", but the first trailer park is on 250 S., and it's easily reached by way of that first side road that I took.
Maybe they mean to cross Old 30 on the Chinworth Bridge and go north. Still no trailer parks.
20:35
While trying to find the story behind the preserved bridge over Marsh Ditch on the Chinworth Trail, I found a news story from last March saying that the proposed extension will run west along Old 30 on the north side of the Tippy.
Now *that* makes sense! It would allow the residents of a rather dense development to walk to the Crazy Egg.
If there's a trailer park anywhere near that section of Old Thirty, it managed to keep Google from detecting it. Perhaps the zoning board has plans?
I didn't find any trace of a hint about the smaller bridge.
I've been wanting to play with the stair lift at the church ever since it was installed. This morning, while I was preparing to ride my flatfoot to the church, I thought "I'm a genuine cripple today. I'm agonna use it!"
Turned out that standing still made me hurt so bad that I couldn't read the instructions. And climbing stairs hurts less than walking on the flat.
For the same reason, I couldn't buy festival food to bring home for lunch. I had bacon and egg on a Brownberry sandwich thin, and Dave had a slice of left-over pizza.
It's aggravating that just when I got comfortable with leaving Dave alone long enough to stay for the whole service, I got too sciatic to sit through the whole service. I intended to go up to the children's room in the tower and listen while lying on the floor, but for the first time in months there were children in it.
The library was vacant, but not wired for sound, so I did my exercises and went home.
I think this is the first time I've cried out in pain while reading a cooking recipe.
The article in the paper started out carrying on about how one must contrast textures, "creamy, crunchy, chewy, and more".
Then it said to take two pounds of fresh asparagus and run it through a food processor.
⁂
With both of us crippled, we hunted through our bookmarks for Martin's curb service. The account is still active, and we had thirteen items in the shopping cart. (I deleted all but the milk and eggs.) I'm now reading through frozen meals, and came across a bowl of stew labeled "crustless chicken pot pie".
⁂
I thought of using Satellite View, and found Westhaven Estates across the road from Crazy Egg.
I finally found my gray comb. I'd put it into the drawer below the drawer it belongs in.
Evening:
On the way back from taking out the trash, I reflected that I'm like a little kid: either full on or full off.
It was teamwork: I can't take the bins out because I can't walk slowly, Dave can't take them out because he needs the walker to get back. So I took his walker out and trotted back while he took a bin out.
More trash teamwork: When we came back from picking up our curb service at Martin's, Dave let me out at the end of the drive: when the bin is empty, I can pull it while walking fast. Then I left it in the garage for him to push it into place.
He'd brought in the recycling bin earlier; I didn't ask him how.
We flipped the mattress yesterday afternoon. Since a spring was broken on Dave's side, it has needed doing for some time, and after supper we said "Now is as good a time as any."
I remembered the previous mattress flip as an enormous strain, and wondered whether we could do it at all when both of us are crippled, but it turned out that the hard part was putting back three mattress pads, two sheets, and a comforter.
(Since a king-size mattress pad won't fit into a home washing machine, I use three old blankets.)
It helped that Dave is pretty much over being crippled (though the burn is still shedding); he's just exhausted most of the time. This is a known side effect of immunotherapy; he's spending all his energy on hunting down cancer cells.
We started wanting a queen-size bed long before the spring broke. It's past time we stopped looking for a bed and went to Reinholt and told them what we want, and let the clerk do the hunting.
What we want is a mattress, a box spring, and six legs. Something that simple is not going to be in the showroom.
This is the small hours of the morning. I forgot to take hydrocodone at bed time and can't sleep. I've got six methymprednisones in me, but it takes a couple of days to start feeling that.
Dave drove me to Darr's office yesterday. It isn't safe for me to drive at nap time any time, and the pain peaks when it's time to lie down in the afternoon.
I absent-mindedly combed my hair standing up this morning. I seem to have gotten away with it.
I thought "Memorial Day Weekend: tourist season in full swing" and tried to bring home a Shawnanigan's Ice Cream Social sandwich to share for lunch, but the menu is still pale grey on white, and all I could make out was "coming soon", so I snorted and walked out. I had liverwurst on seedless rye with de-hotted (pickled with quail eggs) jalapeño slices, and Dave had shrimp-and-avocado sushi.
Once again, putting a foot in the sink is the easiest way to wash it. Nice that the sciatica episode ended in time to not end the May Banner on a cliff-hanger, but I may not mail it on time — we have to be in Goshen tomorrow about half an hour before we normally get up, and I may sleep the rest of the day.
We're expecting Donny any minute; he says he's bringing us some Race Day leftovers.
When we got back from Goshen, I took a nap. Dave got back from his afternoon appointment with his eye doctor just as I finished dressing for a bike ride. (The afternoon appointment was why the morning appointment was so early.)
I rode to Zales to pick up Dave's prescription — which turned out to be the wrong one when I finally got home with it, and he has written a note to his doctors, to be read in the morning.
Then to the library. Dave was worried about me and unaccustomed heat, but I spent nearly all the time I was gone in the air-conditioned library.
Most of it in the children's section looking for _The Freedom Maze_ by Delia Sherman, which had been recommended as particularly good in some discussion group. It would appear that librarians assume that children never look for a specific book; it took ages to find the fragment of JF where SHE hangs out.
Then I went looking for one of Patricia Wrede's books, and it took ages to find JF SF STA — and I never did find _The Revenge of the Sith_. The library has a *lot* of Star Wars books, and they are not subdivided by author.
So I settled for an exceedingly-fat volume by Katherine Kurtz from the adult section.
Then to Kroger just in time to get caught in rush hour; I stood in the checkout line so long that my leg still hurts a lot. Also I spent a painful amount of time disbelieving that they don't have Toaster Scrambles.
Before I unpacked the bike, I zapped half a potato, cut it in halves, and put it into a skillet to keep hot. It was good with left-over ribs. (We'd eaten the other half of the potato when I opened the ribs a few days ago.)
I bought some chuck to make beef stew tomorrow. I was thinking of braising it on the stovetop to save having an oven hot all day, but my largest skillet is too big and my second-largest is too small. I'll think of something in the morning.
Nothing on the schedule — except that Dave has to straighten out the erroneous prescription.
The deer haven't come back to the asparagus. I may freeze some stems today, prepared to make into creamed asparagus.
Evening:
We moved the TV to the south end of the living room. I like having the lazyboy face the other way, so I can see whether it's occupied without leaving the kitchen. Dave isn't sure he likes having the screen next to the window.
I didn't freeze any asparagus. I did fry some in bacon grease to piece out the left-over bacon-wrapped asparagus we had with hot dogs for supper. I had nothing on my hot dog but half a flat bun; it was too good to cover up.
It was noon before I remembered that I wanted to bake the chuck for eight hours. So I put it into a skillet, surrounded it with vegetables, put the lid on, and put it back into the fridge. Surely I'll see it and put it into the oven when I look into the fridge for breakfast.
⁂