Category: Home life

  • Are your Black Eyed Peas Cookin’?

    Are your Black Eyed Peas Cookin’?

    Black Eyed Peas by mfhiatt on Flickr.  Used under the granted Creative Commons 2.0 No Commercial, Share Alike, Attribution license granted.
    Black Eyed Peas by mfhiatt on Flickr. Used under the granted Creative Commons 2.0 No Commercial, Share Alike, Attribution license granted.

    There are traditions in areas of the country that don’t translate nationally. Just like there are words that are regional – a knit cap can be a toboggan, toque (my favorite word for it), bob hat, sock cap, tossle, cora cap, stocking hat, or beanie all depending on where you are in the US.   I’ve enjoyed adopting various traditions of areas we have lived.

    One that I was raised with was the tradition of black-eyed peas and hogs jowl for New Year’s Day meal.  The tradition goes – if you keep count of how many black-eyed peas you eat that day each will turn into an extra dollar in your pocket the following year.  Sadly, I could never keep count. Don’t freak out about hog jowl it’s just like a thick cut bacon.   Honestly when I’ve needed a substitute living where that’s not a tradition I’ve gotten thick cut bacon and couldn’t tell the difference.  So if you want you can do that.

    Hoppin' John with Mustard Greens by Morydd on Flickr.  Used under Creative Commons 2.0 No Commercial use, No Derivatives, Attribution License
    Hoppin’ John with Mustard Greens by Morydd on Flickr. Used under Creative Commons 2.0 No Commercial use, No Derivatives, Attribution License

    Mike had no traditional New Year’s Day food.  Only tradition he had was to mock the other tradition my family had – watching the Rose Parade. Since I’ve married him, I’ve never watched a parade on TV in peace.  Still I could make the traditional dinner for New Year;s Day and we’d toast the year in with champagne back when we stayed up to midnight.

    Then we moved to Charleston and the traditional New Year’s Day meal was expanded.  There it was Hoppin’ John you ate.  That’s black eyed peas, rice, and salted pork.  Debb over at Sunshine Factor posted a great recipe for the traditional meal.  This was a more flavorful way to do the tradition than just beans and bacon.  So I adopted Hoppin’ John and tweaked it to be a bit healthier –  used lean cuts of ham or turkey ham, upped the veggies and enjoyed getting the fiber of the peas.

    Actually we’ve had Hoppin’ John every year since.  We’ve introduced people to the tradition complete with the challenge of counting peas for dollars in the new year.  I have to say even the skeptics walked away Hoppin’ John lovers.  It’s a tasty dish, that just fills you up and has almost a comfort food effect.  I think we might have started a new tradition in a few homes along our moves since Charleston.

    Hoppin' John by Grace Fell on Flickr.  Used under the Creative Commons 2.0 Attribution, Non-Commercial, Share Alike License granted.
    Hoppin’ John by Grace Fell on Flickr. Used under the Creative Commons 2.0 Attribution, Non-Commercial, Share Alike License granted.

    Now Hoppin’ John is a beloved dish in the Low Country (Charleston area of South Carolina) much like She-Crab Soup and 7-Bean soup.  It’s a warm meal and Charleston summers are very hot and humid (It’s said you shower in April and dry off in December).  So making the beloved dish in the hot summer doesn’t suit.  However, when we lived there the morning newspaper in Charleston (then they had two) solved the problem by posting a Hoppin’ John Salad recipe for the summer months -a cool tasty dish based on the beloved recipe.  I make it every summer and we enjoy the heck out of it.  It’s become a tradition at our house for cook outs in the summer months.  Since Debb shared the basic Hoppin John I’ll share the salad…

    HOPPIN’ JOHN SALAD

    2 cans (14.5 oz each ) reduced-sodium chicken broth

    1 cup uncooked long grain rice

    1 can (15 to 16 oz) black-eyed peas, drained and rinsed

    1 cup diced red and/or yellow bell pepper

    1 cup thinly sliced celery

    3/4 cup thinly sliced scallions

    1/2 cup herb or Italian vinaigrette salad dressing

    In a medium saucepan, bring broth and 1/4 cup of water to a boil.  Stir in the rice. Cover pan, reduce heat to medium-low and cook until rice is tender and all broth is absorbed, about 20 minutes.

    In a very large mixing bowl combine black eyed peas, bell pepper, celery, and scallions.  Add warm rice and vinaigrette.  Stir gently to combine.  Chill for 12 hours to allow for marination.  Serve.

    Yields 6 main dish servings or 10 side dish servings.

    Now you’ve got two recipes for a New Year’s Tradition be you in a cold climate or a hot one. Let me tell you that Hoppin’ John has many variations – each home puts their own spin on the dish. The main core of it is a flavorful black eyed pea and rice dish usually with pork, but in some homes it’s not. I’d suggest taking the basic recipe to follow for the first time then add what you think would make it better for your family. True Southern Cooking isn’t about following recipes but instead about cooking flavorful dishes that vary from cook to cook. If you’ve ever been to a covered dish dinner south of the Mason Dixon you know what I’m talking about. There maybe four green beans there and each one is different and delicious. So customize! It’s expected. The recipe is only a starting guideline not an absolute this isn’t chemistry!

    New Year's Day Lunch 2009 - Traditional Hoppin' John by Judy Baxter aka Old Shoe Woman on Flickr. Used under Creative Commons 2.0 Attribution, Non Commercial, Share Alike License granted.
    New Year’s Day Lunch 2009 – Traditional Hoppin’ John by Judy Baxter aka Old Shoe Woman on Flickr. Used under Creative Commons 2.0 Attribution, Non Commercial, Share Alike License granted.

    Now the question is how did it get its name? Honestly no one knows. The origin of the dish is American but there are strong African, French, and Caribbean roots to it. At least that’s what the food historians tell me and from tasting variations with pineapple and tomatoes in them I’d agree. Some forms definitely have a strong Creole flare. The tradition is the first man to hawk the dish in the streets of Charleston was a Freeman called Hoppin’ John due to his peg leg. Another tradition is that to share a meal the African family would tell you to Hop In and John is just the John Doe fill in for a name. Finally the last one I’ve heard is that children would hop around the table in anticipation of the tradition and to get the luck from it as it was served.

    4.20.08 -Hungry Mohter- cornbread, hoppin' john, collards, grits by NoDame on Flickr.  Used under the Creative Commons 2.0 Attribution, non Commercial, Share Alike License granted.
    4.20.08 -Hungry Mohter- cornbread, hoppin’ john, collards, grits by NoDame on Flickr. Used under the Creative Commons 2.0 Attribution, non Commercial, Share Alike License granted.

    Ahh the luck – I’ve shared my family’s tradition of counting the beans. Another variation is to serve it with greens (Collard, mustard, turnip doesn’t matter) and the more you eat of greens with the beans the more greenback and coins you’ll get in the new year. Still another tradition that’s more toward Louisiana than South Carolina is placing a shiny dime in the dish. Whoever gets the dime in their serving gets the best luck in the New Year. No matter if you count beans, eat greens, hide a dime, or just eat Hoppin’ John it’s said to bring good luck for the year. So I figure what’s the harm the new year can use all the luck it can get and I love seasoned beans and rice!

    Ours this year will be vegetarian but served with greens, cornbread, and thick cut bacon.  Pictures will be posted at Flickr, G+ and thus feed to Twitter and Facebook.  So keep an eye out for our good luck!

    Until next time!

  • Meet The Furry Boys

    Meet The Furry Boys

    Honestly my furry boys each deserve their own post.  They are two distinctive personalities.  Still they share the same origin story of how they came to be part of our family.  So despite being two fine feline fellas they will get three posts.  One on their origin story and one each on their unique personalities.

    It all started when I struck up a friendship with a single mom of seven where I used to work.  She was younger than me and had this weight of responsibility on her shoulders.  Long story short through a series of tragic happenings she wound up being the sole parent of these kids ranging in age from 19 to 5.  She was working hard as were the older kids to make ends meet.  Then an better opportunity happened – except the job was in California. I was asked to foster her two cats until she got settled there.  Then the plan was to send them out to the family. I couldn’t say no.

    Who spilled the catnip?  Don't care dude just enjoy until mom cleans it up!
    Who spilled the catnip? Don’t care dude just enjoy until mom cleans it up!

    That’s how two 1 year old cats named Puss and Boots came to be part of our household.  They had become part of her household due to her finding them.  You see P&B came in a shipment of radioactive waste to a processing facility.  When they were discovered due to their mewling they were quickly rescued by the workers one of which being the single mom.  The kitties were dubbed Puss and Boots as they moved through the decontamination process. My friend was the one in charge of the process.  Once complete the decision was to the pound with them or to a home.  Being like me unable to turn away that cute needy kitten face – the two came home to the crowded house with seven kids.

    Now they were in our home with us, Mo, and Belle (an elderly golden lab).  I have to say the furry boys were shy at first staying in the basement and work room.  We didn’t push just made the main floor available  to them when they wanted.  Puss (aka Blue) was the first to come up and meet us all.  Within a week he was at home, it took Boots (aka Red) a few more weeks due to the dog but he came around.

    We’d had them for some time and gotten a few checks from my friend for the expenses of the boys.  Then the letter came that she just couldn’t take them back.  The expense of getting them out there and managing that was more than she could do with her large family.  She guessed they’d have to go to the pound any way.

    Oh no!  They’d been in our home and become part of our family during the months between.  There was no way I’d ship them off to an uncertain future.  These were my furry boys!  So I let her know they were a part of our family now and we’d be more than happy to keep them.  She was relieved they’d found a forever home.

    Thus they were ours and got collars with names on them and our address as contact information.  Back in those days they looked very much alike so the quickest way to tell them apart from a distance was by their collar color.  Boots had a blue collar and Puss had a red one.  Eventually as they grew into manly feline maturity and out of the long legged gawky stage the no longer looked cutesy like Puss and Boots names so they came to be called Blue and Red.  More manly nicknames that suited their maturity and their new collars for beefy necks bore the names Mr. Puss Blue and Mr. Red Boots  to recognize that they were indeed full grown cats.

    "Sorry Bro only room for one now that middle age spread has set in."
    “Sorry Bro only room for one now that middle age spread has set in.”

    The two were always and still are best buddies.  Early on they would always travel in the same carrier to the vet.  You couldn’t take one without the other going too or both would wail themselves sick for the missing brother.  I guess when you’d been through what they had been through but always had your brother at your side – separation even for a check up at the doctor’s is traumatic.  They eventually grew out of it and prefer the full carrier for the more full bodies of the mature feline.

    Today they are edging into senior citizen territory.  Still they are active healthy cats.  They still romp together and groom each other.  They talk to one another and me.  They curl up and sleep together but it takes the couch or a bed for it the chair is just too cramped for two to doze comfortably.  Blue is definitely the leader, the Alpha of the clowder.  Red is the mischievousness follower.  As I said at the start each is his own feline. I’ll tell you more about each in their own post.

    Until Next Time!

  • Merry Christmas to One and All

    Merry Christmas to One and All

    favorite ornaments (6)

    A very Merry Christmas and joyous holiday season to you and yours!

  • These Are A Few of My Favorite Ornaments

    These Are A Few of My Favorite Ornaments

    An ornament Aaron made for me when he was in elementary school.
    An ornament Aaron made for me when he was in elementary school.

    Our holiday decorating has scaled back over the last few years.  Trust me years ago when Aaron was little we went all OUT!  I mean I even changed to Christmas themed dishes and no room in that large house was left undecorated!  Today it’s a tree, maybe a bit more in the living room.  No dishes are changed.  Last year we even down sized our tree.

    This year I came home from working the late shift to find the house decorated.  I couldn’t lift, I couldn’t stretch so Mike it did all!  I was thrilled.  The lights were up outside and the tree was tastefully decorated inside with just a few of our most favorite ornaments.  Having gone to a smaller tree less is needed to complete it.

    So enjoy a tour of a few of our favorite pieces.  Some maybe battered from years of use, others may not be perfect but they are to us.

    Golden Violin - Aaron played the Violin for years this ornament was purchased to remember those times from elementary through high school.
    Golden Violin – Aaron played the Violin for years this ornament was purchased to remember those times from elementary through high school.
    A wreath from preschool - do you see a theme developing here?  Yep a gift from my son.  He made it while in preschool.
    A wreath from preschool – do you see a theme developing here? Yep a gift from my son. He made it while in preschool.
    This Santa was on one of the presents Aaron got for his first Christmas.
    This Santa was on one of the presents Aaron got for his first Christmas.
    Couldn't find a Wolvie one but Aaron liked Spidy so with great decorations comes great responsibility - Spidy guards our tree
    Couldn’t find a Wolvie one but Aaron liked Spidy so with great decorations comes great responsibility – Spidy guards our tree
    What Navy family's tree isn't complete witout a three masted schooner?
    What Navy family’s tree isn’t complete witout a three masted schooner?
    I've not had a tuxedo kitty in my adult life but this one of several of my kitty ornaments.  It's a hand painted egg one from Russia.  I like it very much and gives me hope that if the Cold War came to an end so can many other horrid things.
    I’ve not had a tuxedo kitty in my adult life but this one of several of my kitty ornaments. It’s a hand painted egg one from Russia. I like it very much and gives me hope that if the Cold War came to an end so can many other horrid things.

    That’s it for this year’s tour. Next year I’ll highlight a few more. Until next time!

  • Let’s Start A NEW Thanksgiving Tradition

    Let’s Start A NEW Thanksgiving Tradition

    Thanksgiving 2012 (18)

    It’s hard to cook a 20lb turkey when you can only lift 10lbs.  Also time on my feet was limited.  I started by making the Broccoli Salad.  It’s a layered salad that marinates for twenty-four hours in the fridge.  After that my guys lived up to their promise and joined me in the kitchen.  They were a great help in all the chopping to make the stuffing (I do stuffing with apples, veggies, sausage, nuts…).  They were also the heavy pan lifters.  Mike was the official Turkey Baker of the house.  He did as well as I could.

    There was a mix up about Thanksgiving dinner time so we didn’t conflict with Aaron’s obligations at Sara’s family.  It was okay we went over for dessert at Sara’s house then came home to have our dinner.  It all worked out just fine.

    I liked having help so much that I’m going to make family preparation of the dinner a NEW family tradition.  I’m all excited for it and gung-ho for next year.  The guys don’t seem to be embracing it so much.  I can’t see why they wouldn’t love it too instead of sleeping in while I cook or watching football while I cook they get to get up and be a part of the holiday preparations!

    So here’s our day in photos:

    My start on the broccoli salad.
    My start on the broccoli salad.
    The start of a new family tradition or at least my sous chefs of 2012.
    The start of a new family tradition or at least my sous chefs of 2012.
    The meal progresses...
    The meal progresses…
    The guys goof off at the table.  It's my family tradition to take pictures of holiday table before anyone eats.  We have 3 generations of them.  However my group no longer does good china nor do we take it seriously any more.
    The guys goof off at the table. It’s my family tradition to take pictures of holiday table before anyone eats. We have 3 generations of them. However my group no longer does good china nor do we take it seriously any more.
    The final result - a wonderfully delicious plate!
    The final result – a wonderfully delicious plate!

    Until next time! Hopefully the new tradition sticks – I’m sure they will come around to it.

  • Meet Miss Mo

    Meet Miss Mo

    Miss Mo

    Sorry I missed posting yesterday but I was recovering.  Monday had a follow up with the surgeon, things are going well but healing more slowly than he expected.  Eh, I felt fine until he poked me – then I was sore.  The next day I worked a double shift – 10 hours on my feet.  So yesterday was spent recovering.  Now I’m good to go!  So excuse the missed day I have a doctor’s note.

    I promised way back when I introduced my furry entourage that I’d fill in each’s individual story.  Today let me tell you about Miss Mo our senior entourage member.

    Actually Mo is short for Mohican as she’s the sole survivor of her litter. The Last Mohican if you will.  It all started when I was taking our dear Popcorn (a Siamese kitty we had for 17 years) to the vet for a pain shot.  She was dying of intestinal cancer the best we could do was manage her pain and watch for signs that it was the end.  As I’m pulling into the vet’s parking lot I dodge the mashed box in the road.  Just as I turn I see a cute tabby kitten face peep out of the open edge of the box. OMG there’s a baby kitten in there!  I stopped and grabbed the box.

    Teenage Miss Mo with her distinctive tail
    Teenage Miss Mo with her distinctive tail

    I struggled into the vet’s with the nasty disintegrating box that had more than one kitten in it, some not moving and a yowling Popcorn in her carrier.  Popcorn was never one not to vocalize her opinions, especially when she wasn’t treated as the Queen she was.  I explained to the receptionist what the box was she looked in and quickly disappeared with it to the back.  Popcorn and I took our seats in the waiting room.

    There had been five kittens in the box when it was taped shut and dumped in the road in front of the vet’s office.  Two survived the hit by a car who probably never knew there was life in that box.  The vet made me a deal – he’d treat the survivors if I’d give them a home or find them a home among those I trusted.  He knew I took good care of my pets and if I couldn’t provide a home I’d not let them go to one that wasn’t up to my standards.  I agreed.

    Only the female tabby whose face I saw in the opening made it.  She had a broken pelvis.  She lost her plume of a tail.  She had a respiratory infection that was so bad her sinus infection abscessed out her jaw.  Such a horrid 6 weeks of life she’d had. When she was ready she came home but had to be restricted to a small space while her pelvis healed.  A good friend loaned her extra large dog carrier for the purpose.  There Miss Mo got an efficiency apartment.  Tiny litter pan in the back, bed in the front, food bowls opposite the bed.  She did well but wasn’t fully weaned so I had to feed her with a nursing bottle twice a day as she adapted to cat food.

    To our joy and Popcorn’s chagrin Mo became a healthy romping kitten.  Oh when we were around PC would act all Archie Bunker grump to the kitten but there were moments when she didn’t know I was looking I’d see her groom the kitten as they curled up together in a chair.  PC slept at my feet and Mo slept by my shoulder on nights Mike was away.  As PC became more ill I was grateful for the new joyous life to lift her spirits and ours.  I can’t say it eased the pain when the cancer won, but it was better to come home to house that still had a kitty presence.  One that I knew PC loved despite not ever admitting it openly to me.

    Miss Mo and Mr Boots Red wait for their nightly pills
    Miss Mo and Mr Boots Red wait for their nightly pills

    Mo is still skittish of strangers but trusts me implicitly.  I have to say I treasure that trust and like to think I redeemed humanity a bit in one kitty’s eyes.  Her rough start has haunted her all her life but it’s not slowed her down.  She’s knock-kneed in her back legs making her running look more like hopping and her walk look so prissy.  Her tail is a powder puff instead of a full plume.  She eats from the side of her mouth that didn’t abscess at such an early age because the jaw is stronger there. Arthritis set in early due to all the bone damage, which meant regular meds to manage it.  She now has kidney problems because they were always less than optimum from the damage but now that’s complicated by renal insufficiency from old age.  Another daily pill is required to manage that. Still none of this stopped her from feeling safe in her home and enjoying being a kitten and later a cat.

    We got Mo when Aaron was in first grade.  When it was time to take her in to be spay I explained to Aaron that Mo was having surgery to be “fixed.”  When we picked her up at the vet I was paying (he only billed me cost for his Miracle Kitty) and Aaron was on the floor peering into the carrier.  From the floor came shout, “Hey MOM!  They didn’t fix her – her tail is still too SHORT!”  The whole office laughed!

    Mo is now comfortable enough to boot the dog from her bed.  Home is the SAFE place.
    Mo is now comfortable enough to boot the dog from her bed. Home is the SAFE place.

    Now Miss Mo is in her senior years being the rich old age of 12 despite all her set backs.  She’s a wisp of a kitty struggling to keep weight on, but still on good days she romps with Mr. Puss Blue.  She still rather do the steps herself thank-you and the litter box belongs in the laundry room no second one on this level is acceptable.  She has a ramp to her bed and steps to her perch.  She’ll jump into chairs on good days and yowl for help to get there on bad ones.  Real bad ones she sleeps on her blanket where two radiators meet in living room.  In the winter she burrows into blankets to sleep, keeping old damaged bones warm.  So check the folds of that Afghan before sitting on it.  She still plays with her pompom toys and grooms them – we call them her babies.  She’s as vocal as Popcorn was once she mastered the ability to make a noise after recovering from the abscess years ago.  Today she likes her cuddles first thing in the morning.  She sits patiently and takes her pills in the evening to snap up the treat chaser.  She’s even taught Mr. Boots Red (who now has to take a pill nightly) just how this med thing is done.

    Here’s to many more years with our precious wisp of a survivor.  Until next time!

  • Hospitals Are Odd Places

    Hospitals Are Odd Places

    warm air control by Thirteen of Clubs on flickr
    Warm Air Control by Thirteen of Clubs on Flickr. Use granted by Generic Creative Commons License 2.0
    This was the lovely control the warm Bair Paws hospital gown!

    Now that I’m up and running I’m looking back on my stay in the hospital.  When you are in the hospital you aren’t at your best.  Going in for planned surgery was better than being admitted for pneumonia but still anxiety was high.  So things that I might get on the first take when I’m my usual self, in the hospital might take a bit longer or be greeted in odd thoughts.  Then there’s the equipment – stuff I’m not familiar with and makes for new experiences.

    One thing I remembered from my encounters with hospitals was being cold.  No fears of that here.  No I didn’t get a great warming/massaging bed like Dad had in ICU.  But I did get a heated hospital gown called Bair Paws!  I kid you not.  My purple paper gown had ports that hooked up to a warm blower.  Actually the blower reminded me of the old hair dryer mom used to have.  You know the kind if you are a child of the 70s or earlier – the ones with the inflatable bonnet. So yeah you got a puffed out gown but it was TOASTY warm.

    Air Baby by Jane Lackey on Flickr.  Used under  Creative Commons Attribution, NonCommerical 2.0 License.  Like in the picture here it does POOOF out while keeping you toasty warm.
    Air Baby by Jane Lackey on Flickr. Used under Creative Commons Attribution, NonCommerical 2.0 License.
    Like in the picture here it does POOOF out while keeping you toasty warm.

    Next I was dehydrated so IVs were hard to put in.  But what do you expect when you tell me not to consume anything including water for 18 hours?  So they got one IV in and said they’d get the other in after I was out.  Well the last thing I remember was we started wheeling out the gurney toward the nurse’s station and before we turned the corner to the door.  BAM I was out.

    The next memory was of someone having a damp sponge on a stick and swabbing my mouth.  That was nice as my lip didn’t stick to my teeth any more.  They also put lip balm on me.  Not bad.  I was relaxed sleeping well and someone was keeping me from being thirsty.

    You know I never thought I’d have to be reminded to breathe.  Even more than that – I never thought if I needed such a reminder I’d find it annoying.  Still one of my memories is of a woman saying “Mrs. Eklund you have to breathe on you own now.”  Well the first time she said it I thought “Oh, okay”  and breathed.  Then off to peaceful dreamland as a person who doesn’t sleep well – I was blissfully enjoying the dozing.  Then she reminded me again.  This time I thought ‘FINE I’ll do it go away!  I want to sleep!!”  Then about the fourth or fifth time I was getting beyond annoyed and onto pissed off.   “Really lady bugger off your breathing thing I’m sleeping here!”

    Next I was getting wheeled on the gurney into my room.  Mike, Aaron, and Sara were there to greet me.  They were asked to step out while the team got me settled.  Don’t remember much until I woke and Mike was holding my hand.  As I woke more I remember I no longer had on the purple warming gown.  Well in most instances waking up to find yourself dressed in totally different clothes is disheartening but here it was par for the course, not as annoying as the breathe on your own lady was.  For me it seemed just a nap between when I’d bid my family farewell and the waking in new clothes but it’d been about 5 hours or so.

    Leg Compression by Brian O'Connor on Flickr.  Used under granted Creative Commons  Attribution, NonCommercial, ShareAlike 2.0 License.  No these aren't my legs and my compression had a foot part too.  I loved 'em.  Massage all night long!
    Leg Compression by Brian O’Connor on Flickr. Used under granted Creative Commons Attribution, NonCommercial, ShareAlike 2.0 License. No these aren’t my legs and my compression had a foot part too. I loved ’em. Massage all night long!

    As I progressed things made more sense but I discovered odd things about my post surgery body.  It’s a bit disconcerting to think about people you don’t know dressing you while you are out.  I know it doesn’t mean much to them, it’s a job they do and that’s that.  But discovering say you have a scratch on the roof of your mouth from anesthetic intubation. Or finding I have a deep bruise on my right arm because of a failed attempt at the second IV.   Or pondering did I have those scratches before?  Good thing with the drugs to alleviate pain you tend to take it all in stride.

    Speaking of stride – the first walk is always a dozy.  I knew my abdomen would be sore I didn’t expect my hips to be so sore and stiff.  The more I walked the better they felt so I wasn’t against doing the walks.  The nights in the hospital are never restful.  I mean why the heck wake me up in the middle of the night to do “dangles” to prepare me to walk the next day?  “Dangles” are sitting up on the side of the bed with feet hanging off not touching the floor.  They watch your blood pressure and stuff to make sure you won’t faint when it comes time to stand.

    Oh, did I mention I loved the leg massagers?  Okay I know that’s not what they are called.  They are pneumatic compression boots that are to prevent deep vein thrombosis in the legs.  I LOVED ‘EM.  I’ll tell you my feet and legs always ache to some level or another.  It’s just life after 40.  But to have those on rolling pressure up and down my legs and over the soles of my feet.  A dream come true – a leg massage all night long.  The only thing that could have made it better was Hugh Jackman there doing it instead of pneumatic boots…

    I have to take my hat off to Froedtert Hospital in Milwaukee.  They were fantastic to make a difficult experience go as pleasantly as possible.  They did all they could to make me comfortable and my family too.  Everyone was beyond professional but genuinely caring and nice.  Well except that faceless woman’s voice that kept waking me from the best sleep ever to tell me I now had to take the responsibility of my own breathing… Okay thanks to her too since because of those reminders I’m here but it was annoying when I was sleeping so well!

    Until next time.

  • Biblophile or Biblomaniac? Does It Really Matter?

    Biblophile or Biblomaniac? Does It Really Matter?

    Carnegie Library Vintage Postcard
    Image from Card Cow and used from their embed on your website service.

    I love books. I’ve always loved books. Trips to the library were great when I was a kid. My first memories of the library in Greeneville were the old one. The one that was the Carnegie Library. My mom read me the whole Wizard of Oz series out loud. I loved it. I carried on the tradition with Harry Potter until Aaron was old enough to read those on his own and didn’t want to wait the chapter a day that we did.

    The children’s library was down in the basement. One Summer I remember I got an outline of the library for the summer reading club. As I read a book I got a brick sticker in my library. The goal was to build your own library on paper without Andrew having to give a penny. I was so proud when mine was finished!

    Later built the library that is in use today. They had contest to guess what the new library would look like. I painted a picture of what I thought it would look like based on our police station, town hall and such. Turned out I was RIGHT! down to the decorative rail around the crown of the roof. I was again so proud!

    Many of the books I read from there have become life long friends. My Side of The Mountain by Jean Craighead George was a favorite that I shared with Aaron. I fell for the love literary writing of Gene Wolfe in his Shadow of the Torturer. I found Gothic romance in Victoria Holt’s books and later matured to enjoy the historical fiction of Eleanor Hibbert’s other pen names. Some books – the titles are long gone from my memory as are the authors to which I owe thanks but their stories, their stories are dear treasured friends.

    It wasn’t just the fiction section I loved.  I remember getting books about King Tut’s treasures, the old west, Hollywood back in the Studio Heyday, NASA’s space exploration, and so much more.  It was all there all free and ALL interesting.  I knew how to research before I left high school just because if I wanted to know something I had full faith the library could tell me.

    I fully supported libraries every where I went from then to today. I worked in our high school library my senior year.   I volunteered full time for two years in Aaron’s elementary school’s library.  I still can get lost in a library for hours just browsing.  I love them!

    Now don’t think that my bibliotheca amor negated my also loving bookstores.  I bought and buy books at least weekly.  Some old favorites are held together by rubber bands.  Seems that some books are great guests you pass on to the next reader’s party and others become treasured family members of your shelves. I can’t tell you how many times I read Gone With The Wind or Jane Eyre in my younger days.  Rest You Merry by Charlotte MacLeod has become a personal holiday tradition to read.

    When I was driving a lot I got into audiobooks.  I love them even more today.  I listen when I’m in the car, cleaning the house, doing research, beading, walking the dog, on the bike, and so on.  I love them.  I prefer the spoken word over music most of the time now.  I just can’t get enough of stories, fiction or nonfiction, comic book, printed, or audio – tell me something, tell me something new, tell me something interesting – take me places I can never go, introduce me to people I could never meet, let me be someone else in a new world for awhile.  That’s what happens when I read or listen to a story.  I’m no longer bored with every day life chores.   Audio books have their place but nothing is the same as curling up with a book and immersing yourself in the story, history, life, – the power of the written word. Which is why I aspire to be a writer I’d guess.

    So now the question in the title.  I say I’m a biblophile – a book lover.  Mike claims that no I’m a biblomaniac – crazy over books.  We used to playfully argue the point.  Really it doesn’t matter – I’m happy.  I enjoy books in any form but I think honestly my deepest love still goes back to words on paper – don’t need electricty or programs or players or viewers.  Just a bit of light -the sun supplies that daily here- and the willingness to be transported without going anywhere.

    If I’m a biblomaniac – I don’t want a cure.

    Until next time!

  • Back to Routine Postings Soon

    Back to Routine Postings Soon

    .
    Great Smoky Mtn Heritage Center Townsend TN by me, more photos here

    WOW! The holiday whirlwind has hit. Ours this year comes with some unique extras! I’ve got surgical restrictions through December – no heavy lifting. So picking Mr. Red the chubby kitty is OUT, never mind lugging packages. Oh and I hope to be starting a part-time job. More on that when I know it.

    Aaron has finals to get through then packing up and moving out of his house. He’s off to boot camp and other schools as of January 2nd. Needless to say he’s a bit stressed! Uh yeah, we’re selling his car too so no insurance while he’s gone for 5 months. Then when he gets back we’ll help him get another one.

    Mike has school on-line and preparing for going there in person in January. I’m going too but for me it’ll be a week of writing on the beach away from the Wisconsin winter!

    Did I mention in the middle of this we’re going to do Christmas and New Years? uh- yeah. Busy busy BUT that’s what life is for – to DO THINGS. So I’m livin’ baby I’m livin’!

    Be back soon with MORE stuff! Until next time, don’t eat too many holiday cookies.

  • Happy Turkey Day!

    Happy Turkey Day!

    Happy Thanksgiving from my family to yours!

    Mike and I already have the Turkey in the oven!  Hard to cook a 20lb turkey when under doc’s orders not to lift more than 10lbs.  So I am now the sous chef to Mike’s being the chef of the dinner.  Hopefully it doesn’t go to his head like it did Marnie’s in this internet classic (psst this is a REAL letter with names changed) :

    Have a great day if you are in the US enjoy the holiday and if you aren’t have a turkey sandwich and enjoy the day!

    Until next time.