Social Interactions

My poor physical therapist!!  I think she thinks I may be a lost cause.  On our first meeting Monday, which I thought was only to fill up paperwork and do a evaluation on what I needed, but instead turned into an hour long torture session, must find me quite anti-social.

I hadn't worn my glasses so she had to answer the questions for me.  Put a little "x" in the box of yes or no.

"Do you exercise?"    NO.   "Okay, no need to ask you how much or how many times a week."
"Do you walk every day?"  NO.  "Okay, no need to ask you how far you walk."
"Do you belong to any social clubs?"  NO.  "Okay."
"Do you attend functions at a senior center?"  NO.  "All right."
"Do you go out to eat frequently?"  NO
"Do you go to movies?"  NO.
"Do you attend church regularly?"  NO.
"Do you visit with family members at least once a week?"  NO.

Then she looked at me.  "What DO you do?"

"Lots of things.  I'm always busy.  I cross stitch.  I spend a lot of time on my computer.  I love to garden.  I crochet and knit.  I do housework and laundry."

"Do you cook?"  Not if I can help it.
"Is there someone who would come into your home and assist you if you needed it?"  NO.

That's when she got it into her head that I should join a water aerobics class or a fitness center.  "It would get you out and you could socialize with people."

"That is the last thing I want to do!"

She looked at me again.  Then she started working on me and I said...................

"Okay--let me tell you my story.  For some 30 years I was involved in everything.  Starting with being a room mother, the PTA president.  The secretary for the Little League baseball team and the official scorer, where I was at the baseball field three nights a week.  Saturday nights I was also there because my Dad was a softball coach and I was his assistant and scorekeeper.

I organized a woman's golf league with two flights and 80 players and was scorekeeper and secretary of that.  I planned all the tournaments and events.  

I sang in the church choir every Sunday, I taught Bible School in the summers.  I took my kids to piano lessons, Flute lessons, swimming lessons, dance lessons.  I was an assistant Troop leader for the Girl Scouts.  One year, my house was where all the  cookies were delivered.

When my kids were in high school, I was a Band Booster parent and worked at the Friday night fish fry suppers.  I was on the curriculum committee and was a driving force to have computers put into the school in the early 1980's.  I had three men on that committee that thought computers were not needed.  They didn't need them when they were in school, neither did their kids.  I had to convince them.

Our barn was where my daughter's class met every October to build their homecoming float.  I made several hundred tissue paper flowers.  I made all the skirts and blouses for the flag girls, the first year the marching band promoted flag girls.

I baked cakes and cookies for every cake walk or cookie sale or bake sale my kids classes had.  I organized and recruited workers for the annual school fun/game night and festival.  I organized and recruited other women to have a book sale from the school library.

Then, when I went to work, I was the bosses private secretary--or he thought of me that way.  I had to pick up his dry cleaning, go out and get his lunch and take his car to be washed.  When his wife turned forty, he was out of town, so I had to plan her surprise party, the catering, the venue, the decorations.  I made all the travel plans and airline and hotel reservations.  

I put out a monthly newsletter and I planned and coordinate the annual company Christmas party and the annual company picnic for three hundred people.  I organized and made all the booklets for the annual business meeting, made all travel arrangements for the different managers and set up the room where the conference was to be held."

"Oh."

"I have done enough socializing in those thirty years to last me the rest of my life.  Now, I like one-on-one visits--that last an hour or less.  The world is too noisy for me and I am very content to be in my home, doing what I want to do and not being scheduled up to my ears in stuff I HAVE to do."
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  So today, when I went in for my hour long PT, she merely asked me how I was doing and if I was in any pain.  Then as she worked on me, she told me her life story.  She is one of those modern working mother's that thinks she can do it all and have it all.  I feel kind of sorry for her.

The agony and the.................No. No ecstasy

No arson took place yesterday, you will be glad to know.

Up to the Cartridge World at the crack of 10:00.  Swapped out the bad Tri-Color inkjet for a new one.  Stopped at the print shop to drop off pedigrees for them to copy onto nice long paper.

Put the new inkjet in and printed out the photos on scrap paper and the Navy blue clothes were indeed, Navy blue.  Loaded in the expensive, special paper and..............success.  The last page done.  The book completed.  Now to get the pedigrees back from the print shop and inserted in the book, back to the print shop to get the book bound and off into the mail.

It was around 1:00 when I happened to look at my calendar and noticed I had an appointment at the physical therapy place at 4:00--in Brighton.  ARGGH!!! If I had only remembered, I could have made a trip to the Cartridge World AND PT at the same time.  One trip.
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My visit to the Physical Therapy place was just for an evaluation.  I turned in all the paper work you have to do for those places and then a therapist came and got me and we walked back to a little room.  She just wanted to look at me--how I stand and sit and walk.  No big deal.

Ah Hah!  An hour later, after she had pressed and pulled and maneuvered every sore spot on my upper body and created more sore areas, I finally called "Uncle" and she stopped.  Good Grief!

The sorest spot--the muscle under my scapula (wing bone), which hadn't been really sore in weeks, was now inflammed and marching to a pain that came with every pulse beat.  

"You're a mess!"  she proclaimed.  "Why have you waited so long?"

When I could once again breathe, I said, "I have been intending to get physical therapy for the last two years, but..........................."

"Well--you have waited so long it's going to take longer to get you back into shape!"

"Sorry."  

I haven't been scolded like that since I was twelve.

"Your shoulder is practically frozen.  Your C2 and C3 are practically welded together.  That's the reason you can't turn your head and the reason for the numbness in your left arm and hand.  Your shoulders are sitting up by your ears.  Your left shoulder is higher than your right shoulder and becoming humped.  When you walk, you walk with your head jutted forward."

Now, this young thing is small.  Thin as a rail and delicate looking.

She had hands with the strength of Brunhilde!  When she put her thumbs into that muscle in my back, I expected it to come out through my chest.  

"You need to start exercising.  I'd like to see you start swimming."

"I don't know how."

"Water aerobics then."

"I don't have a swim suit."

"You can buy one for twenty dollars at Meijers."

"Not one that will hold up these ta-tas.  The last one I bought was a hundred and twenty."

"Join a gym and lift weights and exercise your upper body."

"I can't afford that."

As she ushered me to the door she added, "Oh, since you are on a blood thinner....you may have bruising on your back.  Don't worry about it.  See you on Wednesday."
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I have had physical therapy and chiropractic therapy on my upper and lower back several times in the last twenty years.  I had PT before and after both of my hip surgeries.  I have never hurt as much as I did when I stumbled out of there yesterday.

To tell you the truth, I don't remember what I ate for supper or what I watched on TV last night, but I do remember looking at the clock when I fell into bed at 9:00 last night!   9:00?

See ya on Wednesday.

The world tries hard to drive me to distraction..............

I love Mondays--really I do.  When I was single and working, the weekends out on the farm where I lived seemed so long and I was eager to get back to the city, and the work place and all the people.  Now, I still feel like Monday is a special day.  A new week.  Time to get things done, although it really isn't any different than any other day around here in Retirement Park.

But...Oh, what a day.

Saturday--I was trying (the operative word here is trying), to print out a final genealogy book.  Everything was going along just fine and then--as it always happens--three pages came out with the photographs in odd colors.  The Navy blue clothing the people wore was a weird shade of Violet.  

Now, I am not dumb enough to think something is wrong with my printer, it was obvious my Tri-Color inkjet cartridge was running out--had run out--had died.  I bundled my inkjets into a bag and headed up to Brighton to the refill place.  2 black cartridges and 1 Tri-color.  I wanted 1 refill of each.

"This one black cartridge is three-quarters full.  Here is a new black and color one.  Use the three-quarters one first--I cleaned it up, but didn't charge you."

"Thanks."

I stopped and got gas on the way home and a quick trip to Michael's--way in the back--for ONE skein of floss.  The line was long.  ONE--skein.  I told the girl it would have been easier just to shop lift it.  She eyed me strangely.

Home for lunch and loaded my new cartridges into my printer.  Ah-hh, such a good, relaxed feeling to know that I can finish the job.  The test page looked a bit strange, but I loaded in the expensive special paper and printed out two photographs.  The clothing was still Violet in color.

What the heck?

Took the cartridges out, looked at them, patted them on a wet paper towel and tried again--this time on scrap paper.  Violet.

Took the 3/4 black one out and put the new black one in.  Violet.

Now, the Navy dress the lady was wearing was quite pretty in Violet, but her husband's Navy blazer looked a little weird in that same color.

I have two printers, exactly alike.  One is a remanufactured newer one.  I plugged that one in, swapped out the ink cartridges.  Printed.  Violet.

Yanked the cartridges out and back up to the refill place.  A placard on the darkened shop informed me, "Closed at 2:00 on Saturday".

EGADS AND LITTLE FISH HOOKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I came home and did as any sane woman would do.  Sat in my recliner for the rest of the day and watched a basketball game and many movies on Turner Classic Movie channel AND cross-stitched!!!

Now--today?  Another journey up to the refill place.  Satisfaction will be mine or I will burn the place down!!!!!!!!!

My Alter Ego----the Dowager

Glad to see you took my last post in the humor it was intended.  Difficult to write about TMI without being humorous.  You have no idea how long it took me to think up words that would paint the picture without being too gross.  HAH!!!!!!
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...and it's also possible to agree with both.  

Too much fun.......

I am having way too much around here!!!

When I was at the doc's last week, I inquired about a colon cancer screening test that has just come out on the market.  Perhaps you have seen the commercials on TV.  He said, "Sure" and a few days later the UPS guy delivered a fairly large white and blue box to my front door.

Now, I know darn well that that cute UPS guy knew exactly what was in that package, but I just took it and said, "Thank you," and scurried back in the house.

The next morning, I decided it was time for me to investigate the innards of the box and get too my mission.  There was a large, zip lock bag and inside was an assortment of implements.  

Something that looked like perhaps a toilet seat protector, that comes in those dispensers in the toilet stalls, but this one was made of plastic.  It had to be placed between the seat and the toilet lid.  

Inside the box was also a rather large plastic container with a lid.  Like one of those fat, squat thermos' you can get to carry stew or soup in for your lunch.  This container was to sit down into the middle hole of the plastic "bracket" between the toilet lid and seat.  There was also a test tube sort of thing included in the kit.

One is supposed to sit upon this "bracket" and deposit one's G. I. tract contents.  BUT WAIT--there is a warning.  One is not to allow any liquid from the bladder to get into the container.

I took the bracket out and did my bladder thing and then put it all back together again.  As I sat down, very carefully positioning myself into the correct alignment, as one would not want to lose any precious cargo, the bracket made a loud cracking noise and I immediately envisioned, part of the plastic holders coming up and spearing me in the nether regions and perhaps causing a rupture of some kind and my imminent death.

I was barely in the mood anymore, but.....once started, one must proceed to the finish, so I pushed on.

Now the fun part starts.  I removed the thermos-like container and gazed into the depths to see what I had produced.  There were no images of anything miraculous, so I proceeded on to the next step.

In the test tube was a very sharp plastic pointy thing with a spiral on the end.  The instructions called for me to take the spiral end and sort of use it somewhat like an archeology tool to investigate and collect part of the newly deposited product onto the spiral end.

Put the pointy thing back in the test tube.  Pour a large bottle of preservative into the thermos-like container, tighten the lid---VERY TIGHTLY, put my name label on both test tube and container, put it back into the zip lock back---press all the air out of the bag, pull the glue strip off the top of the box and adhere tightly, with the free lab shipping address plainly in sight.

On my way to get my hair cut, I stopped at the local UPS store and proudly carried in the box.  You would have thought it was filled with gold going to an assayer, as I walked in tall and business like.

Now, I know darn well that the young UPS guy clerk knew exactly what was in that package, but I handed it off and said, "Thank you," and got outta there before my face got any redder.

I wonder if he had to put a "hazardous waste" sticker on it.  

A colonoscopy may have been less embarrassing.  At least I would have been asleep and not known what was going on.  EWWWW!!!
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As you know, my hair stylist died and they gave me to another girl at the same salon.  That girl just couldn't figure out how I wanted my hair cut.  It's not like I wear any hair cut that is complicated.  Then she decided to open her own shop.  Twelve miles away and in the fancy mall, with three round-abouts to maneuver to reach it. 

That is not happening!!! 

I had mentioned all this to Karen and she said one of her good friends goes to Fantastic Sam's.  Yeah--like do any of those places give a good hair cut?  I got the stylist's name and went yesterday.  Now, these are walk-in places, which are un-nerving to me.  I want an appointment.  I want to know what time to be there, put it on my calendar schedule and to prepare myself for the visit.  So I called in the morning and they do take appointments for that day.  Got in at 2:30.

Well, let me tell you.  This lady has been cutting hair since 1978.  She does know what she is doing.  She looked at my hair and told me exactly what I wanted--and she was correct.  I suppose, in all her knowledge, she could easily read the "lines" of my last cut?  

$17.00 for a hair cut.  $17.00.  Most places charge $35.00 and that is ridiculous for me to pay.  Plus they do eyebrow waxes--the whole salon thing.  

I think she did a great job and now I can go once a month, instead of waiting to save up the $$$ and the hair getting too unruly.

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Had lunch with the Old School Gal Pals today.  It's nice--having known each other for 70+ years, we know what topics we can talk about and which ones not to bring up.  They told about some of the ridiculous things their, now, old husbands do and I sat and listened and laughed, with a smug look on my face because I don't have to put up with that stuff.

Then, out to The Farm and an hour with my Little Sis.  I had a great day and tonight I am properly tired out and ready for bed.

We are expecting record high temperatures in the next 5 days!  In the 60's.  How great is that going to be?

Yeah but..........

I had to go to Walmart yesterday.  Yesterday--the afternoon of the 14th--Valentine's Day.  They had one small area of Valentine's cards--the entire rest of the display was fast becoming the Easter cove.  Seems like they could have waited at least until the 15th to start changing their display.

Oh--I am so critical of stuff lately.  It's like I commented on Jean's blog this morning: "Why do I think I am the teacher of the world?"

Lately I feel I am disagreeable, just to be disagreeable.  When told something, it seems I have to take the Devil's Advocate and espouse on the other side of the story.  I am finding there's a lot of "yeah, but...." in my sentences.  

In my opinion (here I go again), this world of ours is in such upheaval, I can't quite cope with it.  People are still arguing about the stupid election.  Democrats are still going nutz about it, without realizing it was their own party that got comfortable and blase and didn't realize how much unrest there was with their President's policies.  Republicans are still going nutz and trying to justify every idiotic thing the now President is doing.  I find myself yelling at the TV when the nightly news is on.

Stop the immigrants!  No, let them in.  Yeah but, Clinton stopped immigration.  Yeah but, Obama stopped immigration.  Yeah but, Roosevelt stopped immigration.  Why isn't Trump allowed to stop immigration?  You want to come to my country?  Fine, get in line like my Great Great Grandpa did!

Liberals are supposed to be tolerant of other's beliefs.  Yeah but, they aren't, not if you don't agree with them.  They will argue and try and wear you down to their side.  I have been called ignorant on Face Book because I didn't agree.

Ain't happening here.  Their rants and arguments just make me want to set my feet even firmer and I quit listening to their reasons.  All the Face Book shared links, aren't going to change any one's mind to your side of the coin.  So give it a rest and let's go back to being kind to each other--no matter which side we are on.

Abortion?  Back in the day, people didn't talk about their beliefs so much, but if they did, you allowed them whatever way they wanted to think and live.  Oh sure, you might have shaken your head, not visibly of course, but they went along with their life and you went along with yours.  As a genealogist, I often think, "What if that child had been aborted?  After all, they had 10 kids as it was.  They could barely afford to feed the ones they had."  Yeah but.....if it had been aborted, there would be one less branch on that family tree, and oh look--that 11th child is the one that I am descended from.  

Planned Parenthood?  Back in the day, it was THE place to go to be taught about birth control, family planning, how to care for a newborn.  You could get fitted for a diaphragm for free, if you didn't have insurance.  In the '60's, if you didn't have insurance, you could get your free birth control pills there.  Now people want to portray it as a killing field?  Yeah but......I'll bet you can still go there for birth control and lessons taught and NOT just to have an abortion.

It seems most of life now is all based on politics.  People living on Welfare generation after generation.  When did they stop wanting to build a life for themselves?  Something they and their family could be proud of?  Yeah but........there are still a lot of people that really need the help.  Old people like me.  A young couple that aren't educated enough to find decent jobs to support their babies.

Liberals calling Trump Republicans rebels and radicals.  Yeah but....back a couple hundred years ago, there were Rebels and people radical in their thinking and nowadays we call them Patriots.  They were the ones that built this country.

Back in the day, religion wasn't talked about much.  You met and conversed with Agnostics and you didn't try and sway them over to the Christian way of thinking.  If you were a Christian, you believed in God and that Jesus was Him sent to earth in human form, that Jesus died and was raised up alive and lives in Heaven and if you believe all that, you will go there when you die.  Pretty simple.  

Now we have Evangelical Christians and Westboro Baptist Christians.  We have Catholic Christians who still hold to the old rules of the church and ones who want to bring in all new stuff with their weird thinking.  We have people that think you can't be a Christian if you judge the way others live.  Yeah but....Jesus judged.  God judges.  We have to be able to judge a person's lifestyle to know if we want to be part of that crowd or not.  We don't judge them to their face, but in our minds.  Love the sinner, hate the sin?  

Christians have gotten a bad name and it's too bad.  We used to be thought of as nice, calm, upstanding people, who would help anyone that needed it, work with the poor, take a refugee into our home, visit the prisons, give anonymous gifts to people in need and not say a word of what we had done.  We still do that, most of us aren't radicals on the far, far Right.

Now we have Christians for Trump.  What?  Yes, there are Christians who supported Trump.  There are Christians who supported Obama.  There are Christian Liberals and Christian Conservatives and one Christian Moderate who lives in this house.  What is a poor old-time Methodist to do?  and Yeah but...how can Trump be thought of as a Christian with his language and his ways?  Maybe a christian with a small "c", a "baby" christian?    


See?  There I go again.  And---why does any of it matter?  In our own lives...does any of this really matter?  I never used to be critical of anyone or anything.  I never used to use the word "stupid" about anything or anyone.  Years ago, if I had noticed the Easter collection going up way too early in a store, I would have laughed about it and been glad I could grab a box of Peeps early.  

It is what it is!!!  I only have to take care of this small part of the world.  So I am going to try real hard and breathe, and live as calmly and as nicely as I can and instead of Yeah but....coming into the conversations, just a gently nodding of the head.  A nodding of the head doesn't necessarily mean I agree, it just means, I understand where you are coming from.  

My stomach will ache less.  My nerves will be better for it.  My whole life will be better for it.  I will continue to pray every morning and night and thank God for all I have, because I know that I know that I know---I would not be in as good a state as I am in, without some sort of divine intervention.

I will do this, because it is my way of life.  You will continue to believe in whatever way you believe, because it is your way of life.  We will be non-critical of each other-----PLEASE----and maybe, just maybe, we can still be friends and love each other?

No worries---

Not too worry that I don't lock my front door.  I never lock my front door.  Not even when I'm gone for the day.  In the summer I do when I go to bed, but.....................................

I live in a manufactured home park.  There are probably 300 homes in here, each lot size is about 35' between homes and it would be a One in a Million chance that some stranger would pick mine, out of all the others, to walk in to.  Besides, all of us neighbors are snoopy and if there was a car in my driveway and my car was gone, one of those neighbors would have written down the license plate number and call me when I got home to report the strange car.  LOL

Neighbors knock once and then slowly open my door and call out.  I do the same at Pearl's and Dar's and Jackie's.  It started when I had my last hip surgery.  They all knew it was hard for me to get out of my recliner and get to the door, so--they knock, then open the door and call my name and I yell, "C'mon in", and everything is fine.

When I visit Pearl, I knock on her window, by her chair and then just walk in.  It is hard for her to get up and come to the door too.

Actually the only people that visit and knock and wait for me to haul myself over and open the door, are my kids--which I find strange and weird!!
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I am officially in love with and completely addicted to Prednisone.  If it didn't hurt my kidney's, liver and heart, I would take it every day for the rest of my life.

I haven't felt this good in many months!  I have so much energy.  I don't get tired.  Because it is an anti-inflammatory, none of my arthritic joints hurt--not one bit.  My mind is clearer and quicker and sharper than it has been in years!!!  My mood seems so much happier.

You cannot imagine all that I got done yesterday, that I have been putting off because I was not in the mood.  I called my cable carrier and talked to those East Indian's and got my bill lowered from 122.00 to 95.00, locked in for a year--same channel package that I had before.

I called and made an appointment to get my CT lung scan done.  I called about my gift debit card that has been compromised.  I called to make an appointment to get to the physical therapy office and start treatment.  I called and found a new hair stylist and made an appointment, I did 5 loads of laundry, cleaned up the house, AND I got my pedigrees up to the print shop, AND I finished the editing on my last genealogy book and started printing it, AND I made my Rib Eye Steak for supper.

3 minutes on each side.  Look at the size of that thing!!  Two meals for sure.  It has been ages since I have had meat to eat.  It was so good!!!
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