Tuesday, December 31, 2019
OMG-G
How would you like to be known as the woman who was slapped by the Pope? He is human, after all.
WellNow new center
Heard that this new location, near Cracker Barrel, is top rated, having a Frostee machine, Coffee machine and other amenities. (Kind of weird name, though, isn't it?
Petty Annoyances
Granted, I don't use the stapler all that often, but when I do go to use it and it's out of staples, I look upon its emptiness as a sign of betrayal. How dare it not be there for me when I need it.
But that annoyance is as nothing compared to my efforts to open a bottle of Sprite, brought here either as a peaceful offering or else as a test of my patience and ingenuity. I buy the cans of Sprite---pull the tab and drink of it at my leisure.
I now have before me Sprite in a 12-ounce plastic bottle with a screw-top. So one would think. The cap is evidently screwed on, but whether it will ever be screwed off is another story. I'm kind of accustomed to inserting a knife blade between those plastic caps which have not been severed enough to be removed and thus are difficult to get off the bottle. I tried that with the Sprite bottle, cutting through the still-molded threads on the cap. But I still could not get the top to come off. I used the plastic grabber until it tore, I tried wedging it off with a bottle opener, a knife blade and a screwdriver. Nothing worked. Maybe I'll saw the entire end of the bottle off with a hacksaw. Or maybe I'll make a New Year's Resolution to give up soda; it is high in calories and contains the verboten high fructose corn syrup.
I now have before me Sprite in a 12-ounce plastic bottle with a screw-top. So one would think. The cap is evidently screwed on, but whether it will ever be screwed off is another story. I'm kind of accustomed to inserting a knife blade between those plastic caps which have not been severed enough to be removed and thus are difficult to get off the bottle. I tried that with the Sprite bottle, cutting through the still-molded threads on the cap. But I still could not get the top to come off. I used the plastic grabber until it tore, I tried wedging it off with a bottle opener, a knife blade and a screwdriver. Nothing worked. Maybe I'll saw the entire end of the bottle off with a hacksaw. Or maybe I'll make a New Year's Resolution to give up soda; it is high in calories and contains the verboten high fructose corn syrup.
Sunday, December 29, 2019
Wednesday, December 25, 2019
Monday, December 23, 2019
The eve of Christmas Eve 2003.
The year 2003 was filled with medical visits, 3 separate surgeries, those hour-long bone scans, and countless (almost) labs, CT scans, MRI's, as well as an eight months long course of chemotherapy followed by a full course of radiation.
Dorothy was here as usual and left for her home the evening before Christmas Eve. I had thought I was coming down with a cold or something, but when I got up and went into the bathroom, I saw in the mirror a terrible sight; instead of clear glass, the mirror was of patterned stained glass, mostly in shades of blue and black. That might sound like a lovely thing, but it struck me as being hideously ugly. Then my legs and body surrendered to whatever effect, and I couldn't move.
Dave called M. and they drove me to the E.R. in Saratoga, because that's where all my recent testing had been. Dave was concerned about the ride to the hospital in my weak condition, so he fixed a sleeping bag and pillows in the back of M's station wagon. I didn't want to lie down in the car though, but the project was not unutilized. We had a long wait in the ER, or maybe for the test results, and it was the middle of the night, so during the wait, Dave went to the car and took a nap. M. waited somewhere, not sure where.
I found out the results of the testing when the nurse came in with a mask for me and said I was positive for the flu, Type A. I had not gotten the flu shot that year--too many other medical procedures. I remember both M. and the young nurse said they hadn't gotten the shot either. They were so young and dumb they wouldn't even wear the masks, even being right next to me. The doctor , whose name was similar to Jon Bonjovi, recommended I stay overnight, but it was almost Christmas and I wanted to go home. However, he said to not be near small children. Ben was a toddler then and Greg only weeks old, so I was isolated for Christmas that year.
I don't remember what the gifting was that year, except my favorite present was in a goody bag that M. brought to my house. In it was a roll of Werther's. I hadn't known they came in rolls like Lifesavers, but they did that year.
Dorothy was here as usual and left for her home the evening before Christmas Eve. I had thought I was coming down with a cold or something, but when I got up and went into the bathroom, I saw in the mirror a terrible sight; instead of clear glass, the mirror was of patterned stained glass, mostly in shades of blue and black. That might sound like a lovely thing, but it struck me as being hideously ugly. Then my legs and body surrendered to whatever effect, and I couldn't move.
Dave called M. and they drove me to the E.R. in Saratoga, because that's where all my recent testing had been. Dave was concerned about the ride to the hospital in my weak condition, so he fixed a sleeping bag and pillows in the back of M's station wagon. I didn't want to lie down in the car though, but the project was not unutilized. We had a long wait in the ER, or maybe for the test results, and it was the middle of the night, so during the wait, Dave went to the car and took a nap. M. waited somewhere, not sure where.
I found out the results of the testing when the nurse came in with a mask for me and said I was positive for the flu, Type A. I had not gotten the flu shot that year--too many other medical procedures. I remember both M. and the young nurse said they hadn't gotten the shot either. They were so young and dumb they wouldn't even wear the masks, even being right next to me. The doctor , whose name was similar to Jon Bonjovi, recommended I stay overnight, but it was almost Christmas and I wanted to go home. However, he said to not be near small children. Ben was a toddler then and Greg only weeks old, so I was isolated for Christmas that year.
I don't remember what the gifting was that year, except my favorite present was in a goody bag that M. brought to my house. In it was a roll of Werther's. I hadn't known they came in rolls like Lifesavers, but they did that year.
Sunday, December 22, 2019
A few years before...
I don't know if I've ever written this before, but it's my blog and my memory, and my choice to delete, as i frequently do.
It was another post-holiday early January day when I had a repeat mammogram, at my request, I might add. I'd undergone the routine procedure the previous year, in April of 2002, so about 8 months earlier. The doctor had read the lab report, and said it was normal, that a sensitive area was fibrous tissue. I gladly accepted his pronouncement.
But then, early that November, I was at the Hotel Syracuse for Herkimer BOCES' annual convention. The hotel bathroom was warm and lighted and heated and had a wide wall-length mirror over the sink area. Out of the shower and standing in the warmth of the ceiling heater, I saw an indentation in the very area of sensitivity. Hmm, I'd call my doctor' office when I got back home.
I did call, a few times, but the answering service was first busy, and then asked for a message, so I delayed the call; it was the end of a report period and then preparations for Christmas. But I finally made an appointment. The doctor was unconcerned, saying I'd had a clear mammogram earlier in the year. I said I was concerned, so he asked me outright if I wanted another mammogram. I said yes and one was scheduled for early January. The location was a few streets away from the hospital. The weather was cold and it was starting to snow. When the mammogram was completed, the presiding technician told me to bring it over to the hospital and present it to Dr. H., who I could contact by using the phone in one of the pillars on the hallway. When I got to the hospital, Dr. H. approached me, having been told I was coming. ***It went downhill from there. Maybe I'll finish the tale, or maybe not.
It was another post-holiday early January day when I had a repeat mammogram, at my request, I might add. I'd undergone the routine procedure the previous year, in April of 2002, so about 8 months earlier. The doctor had read the lab report, and said it was normal, that a sensitive area was fibrous tissue. I gladly accepted his pronouncement.
But then, early that November, I was at the Hotel Syracuse for Herkimer BOCES' annual convention. The hotel bathroom was warm and lighted and heated and had a wide wall-length mirror over the sink area. Out of the shower and standing in the warmth of the ceiling heater, I saw an indentation in the very area of sensitivity. Hmm, I'd call my doctor' office when I got back home.
I did call, a few times, but the answering service was first busy, and then asked for a message, so I delayed the call; it was the end of a report period and then preparations for Christmas. But I finally made an appointment. The doctor was unconcerned, saying I'd had a clear mammogram earlier in the year. I said I was concerned, so he asked me outright if I wanted another mammogram. I said yes and one was scheduled for early January. The location was a few streets away from the hospital. The weather was cold and it was starting to snow. When the mammogram was completed, the presiding technician told me to bring it over to the hospital and present it to Dr. H., who I could contact by using the phone in one of the pillars on the hallway. When I got to the hospital, Dr. H. approached me, having been told I was coming. ***It went downhill from there. Maybe I'll finish the tale, or maybe not.
That last season...
So similar, if irony is not your word choice. She was here, as usual then for weekends and extended holidays. She was just 10 years out, as was the term used, and of course was undergoing regular checkups. Her bloodwork had been drawn earlier in the month, and she was awaiting the results. That was the only thing she ever complained about, what she most hated---the wait. So far, all her tests over the years had shown no problems, but as they say, you never know. So she had the right to be concerned, and so did we.
Christmas came and went with everything in place, and so did New Years. The morning after that holiday, we were preparing to go shopping. We did so almost every week, but this was the day we were to buy each other what we wanted for Christmas., and for her birthday which was just a few days ago. And there would be sales aplenty. We were almost out the door when the phone rang. It was P. calling from her home phone. He had received a call from her oncologist, asking her to contact him. She did so instantly and learned that the test results were ominous. When you survive certain types of cancer, there is (or anyway used to be) a blood test measuring tumor markers. Elevated markers are, they told us over the years, not definitive, are not reliable measures of cancer progression. But the early morning call, indicating the need for more testing, told us the results were not insignificant. So we abandoned our shopping and lunch trip, and she returned to her home to face what came next.
I don't know if the findings had only become known to her doctor the workday morning after the extended holiday, or if he, in his compassion, had decided to give her the freedom to enjoy one last holiday season. She fought hard, earning his admiration, and survived a few more Christmas seasons, but the joy was gone for us.
Christmas came and went with everything in place, and so did New Years. The morning after that holiday, we were preparing to go shopping. We did so almost every week, but this was the day we were to buy each other what we wanted for Christmas., and for her birthday which was just a few days ago. And there would be sales aplenty. We were almost out the door when the phone rang. It was P. calling from her home phone. He had received a call from her oncologist, asking her to contact him. She did so instantly and learned that the test results were ominous. When you survive certain types of cancer, there is (or anyway used to be) a blood test measuring tumor markers. Elevated markers are, they told us over the years, not definitive, are not reliable measures of cancer progression. But the early morning call, indicating the need for more testing, told us the results were not insignificant. So we abandoned our shopping and lunch trip, and she returned to her home to face what came next.
I don't know if the findings had only become known to her doctor the workday morning after the extended holiday, or if he, in his compassion, had decided to give her the freedom to enjoy one last holiday season. She fought hard, earning his admiration, and survived a few more Christmas seasons, but the joy was gone for us.
Wondering
Supposedly, it could be a dire consequence for the President if some of the insiders, who are privy to the truth, must testify as witnesses at The Trial in the Senate. Mulvaney, Pompeo, Bolton, Guilaneli, et al would be under oath, forced to tell the truth. But they've all lied in the past, albeit not under oath, so what would keep them from lying at the trial. Pardons could be forthcoming, and Mitch would, as he promised, coordinate with the White House for happy ending. So the truth will set us free, but so also guilt will set us more free.
Friday, December 20, 2019
Wednesday, December 18, 2019
MUSEUMS Congressman Paul Tonko
Thanks, Paul, for your Christmas Card.
Maybe I'll use it for a bucket list: Waterford Historical Museum, National Museum of Dance, National St. Kateri Tekakwitha Shrine & Mohawk Caughnawaga Indian Museum, Smithsonian Institution Building, Empire State Aerosciences Museum, Albany Institute of History & Art, Hart Cluett Museum, Saratoga Automobile Museum, New York State Military Museum, Children's Museum of Science + Technology, Walter Elwood Museum, Irish American Heritage Museum, Albany Institute of History & Art, Smithsonian National Museum of African American Culture, National Museum of Racing
Maybe I'll use it for a bucket list: Waterford Historical Museum, National Museum of Dance, National St. Kateri Tekakwitha Shrine & Mohawk Caughnawaga Indian Museum, Smithsonian Institution Building, Empire State Aerosciences Museum, Albany Institute of History & Art, Hart Cluett Museum, Saratoga Automobile Museum, New York State Military Museum, Children's Museum of Science + Technology, Walter Elwood Museum, Irish American Heritage Museum, Albany Institute of History & Art, Smithsonian National Museum of African American Culture, National Museum of Racing
Monday, December 16, 2019
Saturday, December 14, 2019
Christmas Greetings--- Flowers and Candy in the House!
Friday, December 13, 2019
Cataclysmic Ice Jam of Dec. 9
This entire ledge of ice fell off the roof in one fell swoop Monday night. The ice berg extended the full length of the house including the section over the deck. When the mass descended, it shook the house, "rattling the rafters." Several days later, and pictures may not show, but here it is:
Wednesday, December 11, 2019
Driveway Base of Operations
For the last day and a half, with no sign of respite, the Road Crew has parked one or two vehicles in my driveway with vehicles running and lights flashing. There are several flagmen at the end of the driveway area and I suspect they alternate going into their trucks for warmth. I would feel sorry for them being out in the cold with such a boring work assignment. But I suspect I would be the object of pity in the unlikely event they considered it. They have the community of their fellow workers out there. Seems like quite a few. And some well-meaning, generous do-gooding neighbors on the other end of the closure are bringing them coffee. And here resides an old lady, obviously alone, with no visitors, closed up in her house. (Tis bitter, but it is my heart.)
Wednesday, 12/12 Trucks and flagmen were here until late, after I fell asleep, so again I didn't put the garbage out. Very early Thursday morning , Last night's dumptruck load of gravel and I presume melting solution must have worked. The road looked pretty good at 9:00 a.m. when I drove by.
Wednesday, 12/12 Trucks and flagmen were here until late, after I fell asleep, so again I didn't put the garbage out. Very early Thursday morning , Last night's dumptruck load of gravel and I presume melting solution must have worked. The road looked pretty good at 9:00 a.m. when I drove by.
Sheesh!
E-bayer's Nightmare
You've relisted items over the past 2 years whenever you're offered free listings on eBay. Someone bids on an item, one of a hundred or so you have listed; you haven't seen it in at least a year and have no idea where it may be. Troublesome enough if they bid and you have time to search for it, more troublesome if they buy it now, with no warning. What we go through for a few bucks.
Tuesday, December 10, 2019
Breaking Point
This past summer my primary doctor referred me to an orthopedist for pain along the tops of my feet. After series of X-rays, he said it was arthritis, offered me toe surgery, but I said no thanks. I'd wondered, I said, why my feet were suddenly painful. He, in all his wisdom, said I'd reached the "breaking point." Bah, I can live without that diagnosis.
Today was a day of breaking points. I'd survived the horrific crashing the night before of thick ice jams descending onto the front of my house.
I had a 9:00 a.m. appointment with Dr. F.. He'd wanted me to repeat a field-of-vision test because of less than optimal findings from testing a month ago. I arrived on time, had the necessary testing, all in good time, less than an hour. Then I sat with the fishes for over an hour, until finally a hefty male tech called me into a room. I tote my stuff into the examining room, thinking at long last. But he only asked me a single question: my doctor was "running late." Would I be willing to see one of their other doctors instead. I said absolutely, and then I was sent back to the fishes again. After another wait, the available doctor entered and told me all was well with the tests, improvement over last time. I'm scheduled for a visit in 6 months with my original doctor, though I have a feeling maybe he'll be there and maybe he won't.
I noticed on the drive home that the water is dangerously high opposite Riverview Drive, almost to the edge of the road. Indeed, the water level behind our house is as high or higher than I've ever seen it. And later in the evening, the water did rise over the road, which involved Road Crews using our driveway as a turning point so they could direct traffic around the flooded area. So that was the determining reason I didn't attend Andrew's Holiday Band Concert tonight.
Home, I started receiving more than several calls(6) from the Danforth; he is out of touch and missing his home and his bed. B. is not doing well, doesn't seem to understand she cannot reason him out of his state of mind, and despairs that he can ever improve, can find no ray of the hope I tell her she should look for. While I am on the phone with her, Dave facetimes to wish me a Merry Christmas, and when I tell him it's still 2 weeks away,he says he would like to come home for Christmas. And. listening to B., he tells her, "Don't worry about Don." I will investigate possible transportation for him tomorrow, I hope.
My email tells me that the gifts I ordered for the 4 little granddaughters were first delayed and now cancelled. I can't shop in person, will feel like Scrooge.
I had ordered a box of Christmas Cookies to be delivered to the VVH, supplying address and telephone number of the nurses' desk. A short time ago, I accepted a package from UPS. It is the cookies I ordered, sent here instead of to the designated address. Maybe I'll open the package and eat my way through it.
Today was a day of breaking points. I'd survived the horrific crashing the night before of thick ice jams descending onto the front of my house.
I had a 9:00 a.m. appointment with Dr. F.. He'd wanted me to repeat a field-of-vision test because of less than optimal findings from testing a month ago. I arrived on time, had the necessary testing, all in good time, less than an hour. Then I sat with the fishes for over an hour, until finally a hefty male tech called me into a room. I tote my stuff into the examining room, thinking at long last. But he only asked me a single question: my doctor was "running late." Would I be willing to see one of their other doctors instead. I said absolutely, and then I was sent back to the fishes again. After another wait, the available doctor entered and told me all was well with the tests, improvement over last time. I'm scheduled for a visit in 6 months with my original doctor, though I have a feeling maybe he'll be there and maybe he won't.
I noticed on the drive home that the water is dangerously high opposite Riverview Drive, almost to the edge of the road. Indeed, the water level behind our house is as high or higher than I've ever seen it. And later in the evening, the water did rise over the road, which involved Road Crews using our driveway as a turning point so they could direct traffic around the flooded area. So that was the determining reason I didn't attend Andrew's Holiday Band Concert tonight.
Home, I started receiving more than several calls(6) from the Danforth; he is out of touch and missing his home and his bed. B. is not doing well, doesn't seem to understand she cannot reason him out of his state of mind, and despairs that he can ever improve, can find no ray of the hope I tell her she should look for. While I am on the phone with her, Dave facetimes to wish me a Merry Christmas, and when I tell him it's still 2 weeks away,he says he would like to come home for Christmas. And. listening to B., he tells her, "Don't worry about Don." I will investigate possible transportation for him tomorrow, I hope.
My email tells me that the gifts I ordered for the 4 little granddaughters were first delayed and now cancelled. I can't shop in person, will feel like Scrooge.
I had ordered a box of Christmas Cookies to be delivered to the VVH, supplying address and telephone number of the nurses' desk. A short time ago, I accepted a package from UPS. It is the cookies I ordered, sent here instead of to the designated address. Maybe I'll open the package and eat my way through it.
Highway flooding
Work crew directing traffic at present, by Riverview Drive, before the Valley Falls sign.
Monday, December 9, 2019
Earth-Shaking
Maybe not the entire world, but most certainly the house. At 9:30 this evening, the house shuddered under a terrific booming sound. It seemed as if someone might have driven into my car or maybe the side of my house. I looked out, and the best I can determine is that a massive ice jam has slid off the roof. The roaring noise must have been the actual sliding and the booming noise when a portion hit the aluminum deck. I thought the rain gutters might have been pulled off, but from where I stand they seem intact. I'll check further tomorrow when it's daylight. I'm thankful no one was underneath when the ice fell, as it 's really thick.
Saturday, December 7, 2019
Friday, December 6, 2019
Wednesday, December 4, 2019
Is that the best you can do in my defense?
"Behavior is obnoxious, contemptible, but not impeachable."
Tuesday, December 3, 2019
Community Page & Vigilante Mentality
Easy access to social media is feeding the need for revenge and retribution. A person posts that someone has broken into her house more than once and stolen a dog. Others post they have heard worse, including a tale of someone stealing a dog, being chased by the owner, and said thief opens the car door and throws the dog out. The vehicle had Massachusetts plates, an uncommon sight around these here parts, so be on the lookout. I would think this would be a case of selective prosecution or harassment.
(Car with Mass. plates was in my driveway for several days, but I can guarantee they didn't steal a dog.)
Another posts a delivery person entered her home through the dog yard, and left the gate ajar. Imagine what could have happened...
Others give veiled threats if a suspected dog-thief approached their domain, and a not so veiled warning of a shotgun blast to the suspect's face.
Takeaway: Do not knock on any doors.
(Car with Mass. plates was in my driveway for several days, but I can guarantee they didn't steal a dog.)
Another posts a delivery person entered her home through the dog yard, and left the gate ajar. Imagine what could have happened...
Others give veiled threats if a suspected dog-thief approached their domain, and a not so veiled warning of a shotgun blast to the suspect's face.
Takeaway: Do not knock on any doors.
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