Snowed in and hurting..............

Della's first day at the baby sitters.  Not even 3 months old.  She looks like she is trying to figure it all out.  Poor baby!  At least her Mommy only has to work 3 days a week.

Those big eyes, her forehead and hairline look just like her Grandma, Karen.  Karen and I see it from her baby photos.  The rest of the family thinks she looks like her Daddy.  So we "pretend" when they are present, but.........Karen and I know.  LOL

Karen at 9 months old.  It's the eyes, isn't it?

I can't type too much today--it's a bad day for Arthritis.  Every joint in my fingers, hands, wrists and shoulders are swollen and achy.  Not just achy, but the knuckles in my hands and my wrists throb.  I can't take anti-inflammatories because I am on a blood thinner, so my only course is Tylenol X-tra Strength.  Tylenol has never helped with any pain, but....I gotta try something.

Good luck to me trying to crochet or cross stitch today.  ARGGH!!

Wondering................

why my gray hair looks blonde in that last photo?

What is this?

Actually, it is the left arm and left front of a cardigan that is crocheted all in one piece.  Something just doesn't look right, according to the directions, which are vague at best.  On this row, the instructions say to, dc (double crochet) 60 stitches, dc 60 more stitches and dc the last 60 stitches.

BUT, there are only 120 stitches on that row and for the life of me, I can't see where the pattern has told me to make a chain foundation row for the 60 stitches to the right, which would be part of the back.

It's suppose to look like this when finished.  I don't see that happening.  So I "frogged" ( rip-it, rip-it) it back to the top of the arm, threw it in my crochet basket and went back to cross-stitching on a baby quilt.  GEEZ LOUISE!!!

When I fed the cats last night, Maggie didn't come to their "feeding station".  "You want some food?" is all I have to say and they both run to their feeding dishes for their tablespoon of wet food.  

Maggie just sat on the couch and looked at me.  So....I took her food to her.

I'm wondering, for a person who expects animals to "mind me", why I did this?  If it were a child of mine, when "Supper's ready", was called, if one refused to sit at the table, they went without.

I always feel better emotionally...........

when I get my hair cut--------

17 degrees for the next few days, with a wind chill making it feel like single digit temperatures, and I decide to get my hair cut.   Weird Woman!!!

Back to normal.....

whatever that is.  Boring, for sure.

Christmas Day I rode up 25 miles with Merle and Pearl's daughter Marge and her daughter and grand daughter, to her brother's house for supper.  What a strange bunch.  Merle & Pearl's son, Vic, is the oldest of the siblings and he doesn't talk.  He just stand or sits and watches what is going on around him, and if you ask him a direct question, he might mumble a yes or no, that's it.  Usually he doesn't even look up.  His wife, who I like, is slightly drunk all the time.  Maybe that is why she is so friendly?

Merle and Pearl's 2nd child, Cathy, has a high pitched giggle and she uses is all the time.  Every word she speaks is followed by that screeching giggle.  Her husband, who I think is very mannerly and nice, I am told, is a fake.  He just acts that way in front of people.

Merle & Pearl's 3rd child is Margie--she lives in the park and is the one mainly involved in her parent's life.  She wears her blonde hair down below her bottom and wears very, very thick make-up
and smoke like a chimney.  She is a nice person however, at least she is nice to me.

All the men in the family wear their baseball or hunting hats in the house--all the time.  I've never seen any of them without their hats on, including when I have gone out to restaurants with the group.  They all sat out in the attached garage, that apparently Pearl's son has made into a man-cave, with a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other.  When it was time to eat, their women took their plates out to them.  They never came in with the rest of the family.

Pearl said loudly, "Where's the Lasagna?"
Marge said, "There isn't any."
The hostess said, "I forgot to get it."
Pearl:  "I was promised there would be Lasagna.  If you told me, I'd had Merle pick some up at Gordon's!"
The hostess:  "Sorry, I forgot."
Cathy:  "There's ham and scalloped potatoes and green bean casserole.  Salad, cookies, cake and ice cream.  What more do you need?"  GIGGLE
Pearl: "Lasagna. Oh well, nobody keeps me informed of what's going on anymore, anyway!"

They don't open their gifts at the same time, all sitting in one room, when a child passed by Pearl, she handed them a present.  No thank you from the child.  By the end of the evening, she didn't know who she had given gifts too and had one left over that she fretted about.

I saw Margie hand her sister-in-law a gift and the sister-in-law sat it down on the table and walked away.  Apparently she would open it later?

Their daughter Cathy handed me a McDonald's gift card.  I made a big deal over it, thanked her and hugged her.  Later when I got home, I looked at it.  It was for a cup of coffee and it expired on December 26, 2016.  I don't drink coffee, but it was a nice gesture.

Weirdest Christmas get together I have ever attended.

For this picture, Pearl kept saying, "Wait, I'm not ready. Wait!"  Her daughter Cathy kept clicking and all three photos turned out the same with Pearl saying the same thing.  In one photo she does have her eyes closed.

Merle and Pearl rode home with us, for the first twenty miles, Pearl kept saying, "I just don't understand how she could forget Lasagna!  Of course, she's not that great a hostess.  It's a wonder she didn't forget we were coming at all."

Finally Marge said, "Mom!  Will you shut up about the damn Lasagna!  I'll go to Gordon's tomorrow and get you some!"

Merle and I sat in the back seat and didn't say a word all the way home.

===============

Karen gave me a half a ham for Christmas.  I had mentioned that I was craving a thick ham sandwich.  Do you know how big half a ham is?  The one she gave me looks like the whole dang hog!!!!!!!!  Did I ask her why she got me such a big ham?  Of course not!  I made a big deal over it and thanked her and hugged her and thanked her again.  Hey, it was a sweet gesture from her.

I sliced off many slices and ate ham every meal for two days, until I thought I'd throw-up if I ever smelled ham again.  Then I put the rest of the slices in the freezer.  I ate macaroni and tuna salad for the last three days.  As you can see, my menu is nothing to write home about.

I buy something and then I eat it for lunch and supper, until it's gone.  Then I get something else and do the same.  Food means nothing to me anymore.  I don't even taste what I eat--it is only to get some protein in me to keep from fainting.

Today, I have some of the ham and the ham bone in the crock-pot, along with one big potato, a small cabbage, a large onion and a dozen or so baby carrots.  It does smell good and will be a warm supper for me.  It will probably make me sick!!
==================
Of course I binged on football games all weekend and yesterday.  Today feels like Monday because of the games yesterday, which would normally be on New Year's Day, but because it fell on a Sunday this year, and NO college bowl games are allowed to be televised on a Sunday--it is reserved for NFL games, the college ones were yesterday.

WHEW!  Got all that?

So I sat and watched and cross-stitched and was pretty comfy.
================
Now--it's back to our normally scheduled programming.  Which means for me:

Get all the January birthday cards made and addressed, today.
Hair cut tomorrow at 2:45.  Take garbage out before bedtime.
Bank and Walmart, Thursday, 2:30
Laundry, dust and vacuum on Friday.
College basketball on Saturday.

There might be some surprises along the way, but I doubt it.  I find comfort in my scheduled, routine, ordinary life.

Praise God for an ordinary life!

Five Years--seems like yesterday.......

It is said, when we quit looking for love, it will find us.  We both were to the point in our life when we were content to live alone.  Both had given up the superficial dating scene.  I guess, at that point, God decided we were finally ready to find each other.  There is no way we should have/could have met, if it hadn’t been for divine intervention.  

February 27, 2005.  Our first date at a lovely restaurant, after an hour, the waitress came and asked if there was something wrong with our food as neither one of us had eaten—so busy talking back and forth across the table in our booth.  Talking about our “broken roads”, so many of the same experiences.

He was the kindest, coolest, most loyal, trustworthy, honest, handsomest and faithful man I had ever known.  So much in common, it was like we had known each other for years and years. Never one disagreement in our 7 years together.  How could you disagree with someone who was just like you?  Same background, same ideals, same beliefs, same values.  It would be like disagreeing with yourself.

I have never believed in the whole “soul mate” stuff.  If it does exist, we had it. 

We had a wonderful, comfortable, content time together.  The only thing we didn’t have in common—he loved to watch NASCAR, I didn’t.  So, he’d watch and I’d sit in the chair next to him and crochet or cross stitch and make “YAY,” comments at appropriate times and be content.  I did love to watch softball, and a good thing as he played 3 nights a week.  We even got engaged before a softball game.  I will never remove the ring he slid on my finger.

Then, 2 days after Christmas 2011, he had to go to hospital for breathing problems. We had been through this before.  Three days later they decided--a “simple procedure” they said, to “Help him breathe and get the infection out of his lungs”.  I went down to the hospital, early New Year’s morning.  We talked and hugged, and then I had to leave his room, while they did the simple procedure

 “Love you, Honey,” he said. Gasping for air.  “See you soon.”  “I love you too, Sweetheart,” I said as I hugged and kissed him and walked out of his room.  We had been through these hospital scares so many times in our years together, but this time, something didn’t feel right to me. 

Five minutes later, the Respiratory Tech stepped out of his room, “We’ve got him on the breathing tube, he’s doing just fi….,” even before she got the whole sentence out of her mouth, the Code Blue announcement and blue light came on over his door—and I knew.  Sure, they tried to revive him—for 20 minutes they tried.  But I knew.

His nurse came out of his room, sobbing, and walked quickly around the corner.  His pulmonary specialist came out of his room, tears in his eyes as he held my hands and told me how sorry he was.   All of his care-givers, each time he was in hospital, had grown to admire and love him.  

Many of the same ones’ who had cared for him before, even Sarah, the nurse, who had taken care of him after his heart surgery- from the ICU floor below, was there that morning.  The many times he had been in that same hospital, on that same floor--even the aides had heard our love story.

They had heard he was to have the simple procedure, and wanted to be with him.  The familiar faces all came up to me.  They came with words of consolation, tears in their eyes.  I comforted them.

A Priest came and asked if I wanted to go back into the room so he could bless him.  I wondered to myself, “A priest?  We are both Protestants.”  But we were in a Catholic hospital, so I agreed.  It was a beautiful blessing.  The Priest made the sign of the Cross on his forehead.  At a time like that, it matters not, if it was a Vicar, a Minister, a Rabbi or a Priest.  We all love and serve the same Lord.

I bent over and smoothed back his hair, kissed his temple, laid my face against his cheek and whispered in his ear, “Be with God, Sweetheart, I’ll see you soon.”

As I drove home, with his belongings piled in the back seat of my car, I couldn’t even cry.  I just kept saying, “Thank you, God.  Thank you, God”, over and over, all the way home.  I was so grateful that I had finally known such a wonderful man who actually, truly loved me.

That morning, before I left for the hospital, I had put the invitations to his 70^th birthday party into the mail box.  I had rented a room at a beautiful restaurant. The party would be in just 15 days.  Everyone in our families had been invited. His two daughter's from Florida were flying in for the "party".  Little did they know, Fred had contacted his minister friend and we were to be married that afternoon.  I had my dress picked out.  I was going to order it on Monday, January 2nd.

When I got home, I got the invitations out of the mail box and threw them, forcefully, into the trash can. 

It would never be.

==============

It has been 5 years.  5 years is the cut-off date for “active grieving”, or so “they” say, but I don’t think we ever “get over” our loved ones death, especially a husband.  Yes, we learn to live with it and not grieve every single day, but that sadness stays in that spot in our heart and soul, and comes to the forefront of our mind on every yearly “sadiversary”.

It was the most beautiful 7 years of my life.  The memories help me—I still don’t cry, have never cried, because when I think of my Fred, it brings a smile to my face and all I feel is gratitude.

When we met, at our age, we talked about how every day was a blessing, and that if we only had a few years together, it would be okay.  Better a few years than not ever having any days together.  How lucky we were to even find each other.

How joyful and grateful I am for the time we had together.  Thank you, God.

I love you Sweetheart.  I’ll see you soon. 

Fredrick LeRoy Zuehlke

January 15, 1942

January 1, 2012