aging

Tidbits

If I can remember, I’m going to put little tidbits on here periodically.  Never going to write my heart out on this again, no reason to or not to.

All time favorite public spelling error:  An article about JFK and the Bag of Pigs.

HAH!

Physical reasons about getting old that don’t actually suck (as ALL THE REST DO).
a.) Mosquitoes rarely bite me anymore and when they do, I don’t get the giant welts, I just get a little mosquito bite.
b.) I don’t get cavities anymore.  I have had way more cavities than teeth in my life but nary a one in the last 10 years and I still have all my own teeth, knock on wood.  Hopefully won’t do a face plant on my way out the door and lose all my front teeth for saying that.  My sister the meth head has no teeth, and badly fitting dentures.

 

And it’s January again

I see that I forgot to add the rest of the Advil calendar.  My bad.  Maybe next year.  Gah.  Here is proof that I am not the only doting grandma in the family – this is my sister 🙂 And her lovely grandbaby Lili

 

 

 

 

 

Auspicious date

I wanted to take a picture on my iPhone of 12:12 on 12-12-12 and I got it out at 12:08 and then promptly forgot about it when something shiny went by.

Feh.

 

So, because I didn’t get to write it anywhere else today,

12-12-12

Next time will be in 2112, which seems even more auspicious but I don’t suppose I’ll see that one.

That is all.

Re-cap

I still can’t get over how much faster time goes by these days.  Draw a breath in, K is zombie walking, blow it out, she’s running faster than I can. Granted, that’s not saying much, but we’re talking about time here, not physical prowess.

I’ve been meaning to put a Gone Fishin’ sign on this website for months now.  Anyone who cared figured out long ago that I wasn’t updating, and I’m blaming time for it.  Thanksgiving is this week and I spent all day dithering with recipes and NOT getting to the store to buy the bird. Wasted time.  I’m in that ‘I can’t stand people especially if they are pushing shopping carts’ frame of mind; dangerous to those expecting not only dinner tonight but all the rest of the week, too.  On a positive note, I DID take a shower and put on clothes, just in case I could talk myself into launching The Season. It is a measure of my fugue state to note that I am updating this page rather than do something, anything else.  That’s bad.

We’d best go out for dinner tonight, and maybe after I can con Bob into going to the grocery store with me.  I’ll use him as a human shield.

 

Autumn is in the air

And that makes me think of APPLES!  I haven’t hit Apple Hill yet, maybe next weekend if it isn’t still 95 frickin degrees.

 

Exfoliate with Homemade Apple Bath Soap

Packed with flavor and antioxidants, apples are a traditional harbinger of autumn in many parts of the country. Of course, they can be used for so many culinary delights, but fresh apple juice also acts as an astringent on our skin. How? Apples are full of malic acid, which is the key ingredient in removing dead cells from the outer layer of skin. Malic acid is also known to help soothe sore muscles. You can relax your muscles and exfoliate your skin in this homemade Apple Bath soak recipe from The Herb Quarterly:

Apple Bath
1 cup fresh apple juice
1/4 cup honey
1/2 cup liquid castile soap
1/4 cup ground cinnamon

To prepare: Stir all the ingredients together and pour into a clean jar.

To use: Shake container to mix any settled ingredients. Pour 1/4 to 1/2 cup into the tub under running water. Store remaining mixture in the refrigerator. Makes 12 ounces.

Source: The Herb Quarterly

Nora Ephron, RIP

Above all, be the heroine of your life, not the victim.

My mother wanted us to understand that the tragedies of your life one day have the potential to be the comic stories the next.

Summer bachelors, like summer breezes, are never as cool as they pretend to be.

When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.

When your children are teenagers, it’s important to have a dog so that someone in the house is happy to see you.

I try to write parts for women that are as complicated and interesting as women actually are.

The amount of maintenance involving hair is genuinely overwhelming. Sometimes I think that not having to worry about your hair anymore is the secret upside of death.
All from Nora Ephron, 1941 – 2012

She was an amazing woman, putting her finger on the pulse of a generation of people who wanted, above all else,  to be deeply in love.

The weekly drama

HAH!  no drama to speak of this week.

From last week, my son booted the baby mama out, which I really hate, but will get used to, I suppose.  I didn’t have to live with her.  I worry that I won’t see Katie as much and she’ll be subjected to crazy people, but maybe not.  I feel bad for all of them.  The rise in childhood obesity corresponds exactly to the rise in divorce rates.  I read that somewhere.  On the internets.  So it must be true.

Goob is doing fine, blood sugar is fine, surgery is healing nicely, and he barked enough last Friday to incite our neighbor into even greater deeds of spying.  Crazy old man.  Jeebus.  On a ladder into our yard.  Peering non-stop through the fence.  Wiggling the bushes when we get to close to the fence line like he’s backing up not to get caught.   I flip him off a lot, don’t suppose it helps but?  Next I’m going to post a bible verse in big letters to the back of the house just for him.  About a spy being as bad as a murderer.  That should fan the flame a little.  He’s really starting to bug us.  He’s older than dirt but in good shape.  The little bastard will probably outlive me.  I think he’s pushing 80.  At least.  I’m going to swim naked a lot this summer in hopes of giving a heart attack.

Here he is, on a ladder on his side of the fence, looking into our backyard.  He’s an old perv, I think.  Maybe the naked swimming is a bad idea.

 

 

 

From Ebert’s Newsletter –

Scottish artist Robert Montgomery goes about at night illegally plastering over advertisements with posters covered in his poetry. His very pleasing verse is presented in white typography on a black background, screaming out ideas about beauty, consumerism and hypocrisy, among other things. The elegant words, and their sparse presentation, have been appearing on hoardings for the last ten years.

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Rick’s mass was terrible.  Watching my son carry his father’s ashes down the aisle was very, very hard.  He said that finally made it real for him.   Sad day.

Weakly rap up

Oh, sweet jeebus, another bizarre week.

Goob, the German Shepherd (of the Paint Your Own Dog Fame), had terrible diarrhea again and I decided to take him to the vet.  Ended up taking him to emergency surgery (by one of the teaching docs at UCD!) and having a gigantic tumor cut off his stomach (inside). And they took out his spleen because it was icky.  Don’t know yet if the tumor was benign or malignant, won’t know until the middle of the week.  I hope it’s benign because we can’t afford chemo.  This whole thing ended up being slightly over $5,000.  I’m not making that up.  There was a moment there when we were not going to do it, but then we realized it would be even harder not to. So we got the surgery done.

Also this week we learned that the diabetic cat is not doing as well as she once was.  Kidneys are probably starting to go, blood sugar over time was not too good.  I am blaming myself for that last one.  Have been feeding her too much kitty crack.  But she loves it so, and I keep thinking she won’t have that much longer so why the hell can’t she just enjoy herself?  Now we get to buy cat food that is $29 for a 6 lb bag.  I’m not making that up, either.  At least they like it.   We might actually be able to feed them their tiny high calorie bit of it (little cat, 1/4 cup a day, fat cat 1/2 – 3/4, Cheetah, 1/2 cup) while we watch them eat.  And that will be the extent of it.  Fat cat will lose weight and I will be able to quit cleaning her arse for her.  Gee, that would be too bad.

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Rick’s mass is tomorrow, then a meet and greet and eat afterward. I will attend the first, probably skip the latter.  None of my people will be there (except Andrew), just all of his new wife’s people.  His mom isn’t going, it’s too hard on her to be out of her environment after her stroke.  Ricky was her baby, her favorite, always.  Should have said that in the obit.  I imagine this will do her in.

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Bob went to fix something under my tub in the bathroom, took a panel out and found extensive mold from a leak that can’t be reached w/out knocking the tile out.  Have to redo the whole thing, it’s a mess and probably explains why I haven’t been feeling so great.  Lots of mold.  Mold is my enemy.  On a positive note, we’ll be able the replace the non-working, butt-ugly jacuzzi that is my tub/shower.  Hard to get in and out of because sides are so high and I am so dang old these days.

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I’m starting a yoga foundation series tomorrow night.  I went to a 101 class, I like it.  It hurt but then my back was really great for a day, and then excruciating ever since. Worse than ever.  Maybe if I do it regularly it will get a lot better.  I have degenerative disk disease, fairly advanced for someone my age.  Also, I was just diagnosed with Morton’s neuroma in my foot.  Falling apart, I am.  I got a cortisone shot in the foot, helped a lot, but about made me pee my pants when he did it.  Not much fun. But worth it.  I can walk again on it.

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Anyway: Goob is back home now (since this afternoon), in his bed, happy to be with us.  His mouth is a thousand times sorer than his stomach, I suppose from the intubation.  He has a lot of medicine to take but the sore mouth made giving him pills difficult until I figured out how to do it in the baby food he’s eating.  Yes, I am feeding the German Shepherd baby food.   Baby food and chicken stock.  Hopefully not for too long.