I remember hearing of an incident in Texas where a wife killed her husband by throwing a watermelon out of the window onto his head. She was cleared of any punishment because the weather had been over 100 degrees for several weeks, and she used that as her justification. "I couldn't take the weather or him any longer." Well, I think days and days of near zero weather can do the same thing.
Timmy is a picky eater. I don't mean he's hard to please, I mean he picks out the best things in the dinner so that the leftovers are always missing some essential item. For example: meatball soup without any meatballs, kielbasa and sauerkraut with no kielbasa. The other day I made eggplant appetizer with eggplant, celery, onions, tomatoes and best of all - chopped up black olives. The black olives are my favorite part of the dish. Sure enough, the leftovers looked different - no black olives left.
Next Sunday is Super Bowl Sunday, the day when more home violence occurs than any other day of the year. This they blame on a combination of alcohol, heightened feelings about the teams, and the violence seen and approved of on television by millions of people. I have a feeling, unless it warms up significantly, the hot lines will be full of calls this year.
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
Saturday, January 11, 2014
I fell yesterday in our driveway, slipped on the ice and went down hard on my left side. I got up and seemed ok, but it sent a lot of memories of 17 years ago spinning in my head. I had been in a car accident on January 8 broken pelvis in three places, big contusion on the top of my head, and bruised all over. I ended up in Albany Medical, and three vivid memories flooded me.
Mean Nurse: It was a rough night, I had an intestinal problem and had probably rung for the nurse at least 4 times. I couldn't move, so that meant a call for a nurse with a bed pan. After the last request she put away the bed pan, went to the window and threw it wide open. I was high up, 5 or 7 stories anyway, and for a moment I thought she was going to throw me out. But she tucked the blankets all around me tightly, and said "Now go to sleep". I wasn't upset, it was quite pleasant to feel the cold air on my face and be so warm and snug. And I fell asleep,
The Hospital is on Fire: One night I awoke to the loud sound of a fire alarm, and the smell of smoke. Then someone quietly shut my bedroom door snugly. What was this? I was wide awake when I heard the sirens and saw, one, then two, then three fire trucks roar under my window. Oh, God, I thought, we're on fire. I reached for the phone, my first impulse was to call home and tell them I loved them and goodbye. I dialed Ria's number and it rang, busy, busy. Who could she be talking to at this hour? Then I remembered the computer, when the computer was on, the phone was busy. Anyway, the alarm silenced, there was no uproar, no panic voices, so I again reached for the buzzer and rang the nurse's station. "Are we ok?" I asked. Why? - the nurse seemed surprised, "Oh, the alarm, someone burnt toast in the kitchen and the fire company has to come and check it out if the smoke alarm goes off". So that was that - and thank God I didn't get Ria, she would have been as nuts as me.
Dead Bodies and Scooch: One night after midnight they woke me up and said I had to go to X-ray. Why I asked, the doctor had never mentioned this. Anyway, I had to go, it took two nurses to lift the sheet I was on and at the count of three, oompa me to the stretcher. An aide pushed me into an elevator and we went down, down into a dark hall. There were two other stretchers in the dimly lit hall, both holding body bags and I begged to know where I was. The x-ray technician said "in the cellar, next to the morgue. Anyway, he rolled me next to the table and told me to get on. I can't move I told him, and he looked at me and tiredly said "scooch". I don't know how to scooch, I said, and he wiggled his body to show me how to do it. It took a lot of scooching to get on the table, but I was motivated to get the hell out of there and back into my bed, so I did it, and after a few minutes I scooched back on the stretcher. By that time, the aide had come back for me, and I closed my eyes so not to see my friends in the hallway.
So today, I am very careful - not more falls for me, no hospital beds, no scooching. Is there such a word?
Mean Nurse: It was a rough night, I had an intestinal problem and had probably rung for the nurse at least 4 times. I couldn't move, so that meant a call for a nurse with a bed pan. After the last request she put away the bed pan, went to the window and threw it wide open. I was high up, 5 or 7 stories anyway, and for a moment I thought she was going to throw me out. But she tucked the blankets all around me tightly, and said "Now go to sleep". I wasn't upset, it was quite pleasant to feel the cold air on my face and be so warm and snug. And I fell asleep,
The Hospital is on Fire: One night I awoke to the loud sound of a fire alarm, and the smell of smoke. Then someone quietly shut my bedroom door snugly. What was this? I was wide awake when I heard the sirens and saw, one, then two, then three fire trucks roar under my window. Oh, God, I thought, we're on fire. I reached for the phone, my first impulse was to call home and tell them I loved them and goodbye. I dialed Ria's number and it rang, busy, busy. Who could she be talking to at this hour? Then I remembered the computer, when the computer was on, the phone was busy. Anyway, the alarm silenced, there was no uproar, no panic voices, so I again reached for the buzzer and rang the nurse's station. "Are we ok?" I asked. Why? - the nurse seemed surprised, "Oh, the alarm, someone burnt toast in the kitchen and the fire company has to come and check it out if the smoke alarm goes off". So that was that - and thank God I didn't get Ria, she would have been as nuts as me.
Dead Bodies and Scooch: One night after midnight they woke me up and said I had to go to X-ray. Why I asked, the doctor had never mentioned this. Anyway, I had to go, it took two nurses to lift the sheet I was on and at the count of three, oompa me to the stretcher. An aide pushed me into an elevator and we went down, down into a dark hall. There were two other stretchers in the dimly lit hall, both holding body bags and I begged to know where I was. The x-ray technician said "in the cellar, next to the morgue. Anyway, he rolled me next to the table and told me to get on. I can't move I told him, and he looked at me and tiredly said "scooch". I don't know how to scooch, I said, and he wiggled his body to show me how to do it. It took a lot of scooching to get on the table, but I was motivated to get the hell out of there and back into my bed, so I did it, and after a few minutes I scooched back on the stretcher. By that time, the aide had come back for me, and I closed my eyes so not to see my friends in the hallway.
So today, I am very careful - not more falls for me, no hospital beds, no scooching. Is there such a word?
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
When I wrapped the mustard seed necklace that Sabra had pointed out to me as a Christmas wish, I put it in what I thought was an empty jewelry box, with a thin later of cotton in the bottom. Christmas morning in her house she said, "I don't think you meant to give me the necklace in that box" and she showed me what I had missed. Written on the inside top was "Regina Lillia", and the date and time of her birth, and tucked under the cotton was her dried, tiny belly button.
Over the years, I have been collecting my grandchildren's belly buttons when possible. Sometimes they were lost or fell off in the hospital, but I still have managed to save some, thus the strange occurrence at Christmas morning. Ava's belly button is well marked, and in a plastic bag. One is in a beautiful wooden box, but no name - I think that is one of Paul's boys. Helene had sent me an article in the Smithsonian that it is a Japanese custom to save the belly button in a wooden box. This is thought to bring good luck to the mother-child relationship. The box though was too air tight, and the belly button is the strangest one. Then there is one in a Magnesium vitamin bottle - no name, and some in plain small cardboard boxes.. I know they are all one of the grandchildren, I just don't know who goes to who. Leave it to Maria to do it right.
I am not sure why I started this - I think it had something to do with Bucky's keeping Maria's 50 cent piece that I had taped over her belly button to make it go in. Bucky found it in her house and kept it for good luck. I had learned this trick of taping a 50 cent piece from Bucky. It was commonly done in her day to aid in getting a nice insie button. When my mother had the twins the doctor told her to tape a quarter to each of the twin's belly buttons - half the price for two.
I just looked up the custom on the internet (you can find anything on the internet) and sure enough, saving the umbilical cord piece was done in African cultures, Native American and most notably, the Japanese. Now it's a Clay Hill Road tradition - and who knows, maybe I will be getting some more of these relics this year.
Over the years, I have been collecting my grandchildren's belly buttons when possible. Sometimes they were lost or fell off in the hospital, but I still have managed to save some, thus the strange occurrence at Christmas morning. Ava's belly button is well marked, and in a plastic bag. One is in a beautiful wooden box, but no name - I think that is one of Paul's boys. Helene had sent me an article in the Smithsonian that it is a Japanese custom to save the belly button in a wooden box. This is thought to bring good luck to the mother-child relationship. The box though was too air tight, and the belly button is the strangest one. Then there is one in a Magnesium vitamin bottle - no name, and some in plain small cardboard boxes.. I know they are all one of the grandchildren, I just don't know who goes to who. Leave it to Maria to do it right.
I am not sure why I started this - I think it had something to do with Bucky's keeping Maria's 50 cent piece that I had taped over her belly button to make it go in. Bucky found it in her house and kept it for good luck. I had learned this trick of taping a 50 cent piece from Bucky. It was commonly done in her day to aid in getting a nice insie button. When my mother had the twins the doctor told her to tape a quarter to each of the twin's belly buttons - half the price for two.
I just looked up the custom on the internet (you can find anything on the internet) and sure enough, saving the umbilical cord piece was done in African cultures, Native American and most notably, the Japanese. Now it's a Clay Hill Road tradition - and who knows, maybe I will be getting some more of these relics this year.
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
Too cold to venture outside, blasts of artic air, so I sit in the window, pretending I am in Florida, watching the birds - I call them "my birds" because I feed them. A red bellied woodpecker is on the deck, finding uneaten sunflower seeds that are stuck in the cracks of the deck. He finds one, then flies to the deck, to open it and eat it. In the summer I clean out these cracks with a dull kitchen knife, so it makes me smile to see him doing the job for me. The kitchen timer goes off and I am reminded of probably the weirdest thing that happened last summer.
Every morning Timmy and I do the crossword puzzle, I make a copy so we each have our own to work on. I started to notice every morning at 8:30 a quiet beep beep that went off. "Do you hear that beep?" I asked Timmy. "What beep?" He couldn't hear it. The next day I heard it again. Again, he didn't hear it, claiming "you're losing it" and maybe I was. I thought it came from the kitchen so I checked the cabinets for something, anything that would beep every morning at the same time. I found an old calculator that was suspect, but nothing there. The next morning I heard it again...ran into the kitchen and this time took everything out of the sewing cabinet and even Timmy checked his gym bag for anything with a timer set for 8:30am. He still didn't hear it, but I was so adamant that he kind of believed me. That night I told Sabra about the mysterious beep and she promised to come down the next morning and help us get to the bottom of this beep.
The next morning, there we sat, the three of us waiting for 8:30 and then---the beep. She heard it too, and we all ran into the kitchen. I opened the drawer with the meat thermometer in it - was that it? But Sabra was staring at Timmy, and said "Tim, the beep is on you - what do you have in your pocket?", But he just pulled out his old wallet, that 25 years ago a co-worker had thrown into the garbage. "Not that", said Sabra, and started to laugh. "It's your watch". He held it to his ear, and finally heard the beep, beep. Mystery solved.
That afternoon he figured out how to unset the watch - a watch he had gotten from the free table at the gym, and the object that had baffled me for days.
Every morning Timmy and I do the crossword puzzle, I make a copy so we each have our own to work on. I started to notice every morning at 8:30 a quiet beep beep that went off. "Do you hear that beep?" I asked Timmy. "What beep?" He couldn't hear it. The next day I heard it again. Again, he didn't hear it, claiming "you're losing it" and maybe I was. I thought it came from the kitchen so I checked the cabinets for something, anything that would beep every morning at the same time. I found an old calculator that was suspect, but nothing there. The next morning I heard it again...ran into the kitchen and this time took everything out of the sewing cabinet and even Timmy checked his gym bag for anything with a timer set for 8:30am. He still didn't hear it, but I was so adamant that he kind of believed me. That night I told Sabra about the mysterious beep and she promised to come down the next morning and help us get to the bottom of this beep.
The next morning, there we sat, the three of us waiting for 8:30 and then---the beep. She heard it too, and we all ran into the kitchen. I opened the drawer with the meat thermometer in it - was that it? But Sabra was staring at Timmy, and said "Tim, the beep is on you - what do you have in your pocket?", But he just pulled out his old wallet, that 25 years ago a co-worker had thrown into the garbage. "Not that", said Sabra, and started to laugh. "It's your watch". He held it to his ear, and finally heard the beep, beep. Mystery solved.
That afternoon he figured out how to unset the watch - a watch he had gotten from the free table at the gym, and the object that had baffled me for days.
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