Gezundheit! (sp?)

Got a cold id by dose.

Wonder if there's any way to keep it from descending to my chest.

Oh, well. Sufficient unto the day...

I've cut down to less than half a pack of cigarettes a day, and I get a bad cold. Life gets tedious. Teejus. I feel like Happy Hal Burns's old hound dog.

"Hound dog howlin', all forlorn--Laziest dog that ever was born...He's howling 'cause he's settin' on a thorn, He's just too tired to move over."

Actually, I feel pretty good, all except having a cold in my nose.

Hot As Summer, Cold As Winter

Friday afternoon, the temperature was up near 80 degrees, and I was wishing for the courage to turn on the air conditioner. Today it's in the 50s but headed down.

The Christmas and birthday gifts I received ought to keep me entertained on slow days.

And when I get hungry, I can cook something scrumptious in my new crockpot.

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Recent Reading:

If anyone hasn't read Song of Solomon, I recommend it highly. I guess it isn't as good as Beloved, but it's really gripping, especially the end.

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The Looking Glass War is aggravating, and makes you wonder if British Intelligence really was ever as inept as LeCarre pictures it in his books. His focus is on the Cold War, but if England was that fumble-fisted in WWII, it's a good thing Hitler didn't realize it. But TLGW is a good read, with a real hero and one sympathetic Englishman.

A lovely Christmas day, and day after

Yesterday Jed and I enjoyed Christmas dinner of baked (smoked) ham, potato salad, green bean casserole, and a great salad with spinach, bell peppers, pine nuts and I-don't-know-what-all. Also a sweet-potato pie which I had to force myself to eat only one piece of. Then we visited Pat and India, where Buffy, Jason, Reed, Jude and Kane showed up later in the evening. Reed and I played with the little Volkswagen bug that was in the stocking I gave him. Of course, I forgot to take my camera with me.

I failed to finish quilting the Christmas quilt-wall hanging for Pat, but I took it up there and showed it to her, anyway. Promised I would finish and give it to her in the near future.

We had visited Susan and Vann at their lovely Yellow House on Christmas Eve, where Angela, Phillip and Amy came in later. I'm so fortunate to have so many wonderful children, nieces and nephews (I claim Amy, Phillip, Kane and Jude, and my great-nephews Jesse and Reed). Carrie was visiting her parents, so I didn't get to see her.

And a couple of days ago, I received an e-postcard from Caitlin in Rhode Island. It said, "I miss everyone terribly."

At right is the throw I made for Vann to add to his collection. And below is the pretty water-color (not by me) that I gave Jed.

Today we ate lunch at Chili's, shopped a bit at the Trussville malls, and wormed our way home through the sales-shopper traffic.

"Santa" brought me a beautiful new crockpot, and a movie DVD of Julius Caesar, one of my favorites. This evening I'm starting a pot of turkey soup in my crockpot.

In approximately nine hours, I'll suddenly become a year older.

Jangle Bells

Yesterday in the Post Office, I overheard two ladies talking together. One said her husband was having chemotherapy and wasn't feeling well. The other, a lovely woman probably in her 60s, said that 14 years ago, she had five chemo treatments and a number of radiation treatments; she had recently had her checkup and was still OK. My mouth flew open and said, "That's wonderful!" I believe that God is good and wonderful, and He will take care of Vann and all of us.

The Ultimate Beautiful Christmas Card

This one is from Susan and Vann. Isn't it gorgeous?
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I've got all but two of my Christmas gifts completed and wrapped. I'm giving myself until tomorrow evening to finish these two, because I'll need at least two days to clean up after myself. When I'm "creating," I simply wreck all the space around me.
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Jed is coming over for Christmas. We haven't yet discussed what we plan to do about Christmas dinner, etc.
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Oh--the sewing machine breakdown: Finding that the sewing part still worked fine, I fiddled with the foot pedal, and decided the burn happened because I kept the machine turned on all day, and at some point the pedal had got stuck in the "on" position and overheated. Anyway, I've been sewing on it, and turning off the machine except when I'm actually stitching, so it's OK for now.

God Bless Us, Every One!

This (below) is my favorite Christmas Card so far this year--from my Amazon "Porchie" friend Sarah in Missouri:

Gaslight

This great old movie will be on TCM in a few minutes - 9:00 p.m. cst.

I just made a really good apple-and-raisin pie, so I'm going to eat pie and watch "Gaslight."

Poem For Sunday

Lavender Blue
(Pinkie Remembers Him Singing)

Blue Boy, your voice still haunts me like old grief,
etched on my heart, though time has stilled our songs.
Never beneath these skies shall we two meet
to sing or laugh again, and yet how long
have I clung to these harmonies I hear!
Old melodies, with each note clear as truth
move with my life, and make the passing years
enchanted as our days of dreaming youth
when first I heard your voice, and saw the glow
of your dark eyes in quest of some high trail
over the hills and far away. And oh,
dear Blue, I hope you found your holy grail!

By JRC, February 1995

Uh oh, Santa!

Actually, the sewing machine burnt up. At least, the motor apparently did. Footpetal burnt a hole in the carpet. A few more accidents to that poor old carpet, and I'll be forced to replace it--when I run out of throw rugs--oh, well.

So there go the homemade Christmas presents. I ought to have known better than to start sewing-machine projects less than a year in advance, considering my history of fighting with the danged things. Anyway, this one lasted as long as the first one did, so I guess it was a pretty good machine. R.I.P.

All through the night

11:17 a.m. - Yesterday Dr. Gruman phoned about my test results. Everything is OK, just need to take more vitamins and get my cholesterol even lower (it's about normal).

A strange dream from the past

In the dream, it was late autumn, dusk, no leaves (or snow) on the trees. I was with a tour group in France. The van let us off at this path through the woods. Most of the group took off past me while I was struggling with my big heavy suitcase with one hand and arm--and a big brown squirrel with the other.

I had the feeling I had made the van driver stop somewhere when we saw the squirrel, that clearly had something wrong with it, and I had picked it up, so I got no sympathy.

I walked on a little way, watching the others disappear down the lane in front of me. The last of them, a big tall woman, strode past me at about 10 mph, saying, "We'll have to hurry to get to the chateau before dark." By then, it almost was dark.

I stopped by a tree with a big limb hanging over, and I set the squirrel on the limb. "You can live here in this tree," I told it, but it looked so lost and miserable, I took it back in my arms and tried to pick up the suitcase.

That was one enormous squirrel. Do squirrels grow bigger in France? (The picture shows similar color and mood, but prettier because of the snow.)

The "alone, burdened and anxious" feeling in the dream was similar to what I felt a lot of the time while we were (actually) in England. I was the shortest person in that group, and was usually trying to keep up with somebody. My "buddies" on the tour were Julianne and Bill, a couple from Maine who were just a tad younger than I was, and both of them I swear over six feet tall. Julianne was even bigger than Bill. They were "compleat travelers" who were going on to Egypt after England. Over the years I've wondered why they always seemed to be far off in front of everybody when I needed a hand or someone to talk to.

And I've often reflected on the fact that, at the time and place they would have been in Egypt, there were riots and shootings, some big deadly event.

I kept telling myself, while in England, "Someday I'll laugh about my predicaments on this trip." I had no idea it would take ten years or more before the humor kicked in.

"Nothing gold can stay..."

On November 28, I wrote about my dream of Robert Frost. One of these days I'm going to make an album of my strange, funny, crazy dreams. This is the way RF looked in the dream, only he was grinning all the time, and one of the poems I like so much.











Another of my favorite poems is too long to remember all of it. It's "Directive," and it's worth reading. "Let a guide direct you,/ Who only has at heart your getting lost."
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And the last stanza of "Two Tramps in Mud Time" is a good motto to live by, if you're looking for one.

"...yield who will to their separation,
My object in living is to unite
My avocation and my vocation
As my two eyes make one in sight.
Only where love and need are one,
And the work is play for mortal stakes,
Is the deed ever really done
For Heaven and the future's sakes."
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I think the cruellest thing old age can do to a body is to make him forget things like this that he remembers.

Shackleton's Incredible Voyage

I've started reading Contact, by Carl Sagan. But a few minutes ago I received an order for Endurance: Shackleton's Incredible Voyage, by Alfred Lansing, so I'm going to try to re-read it before Monday. It's a wonderful book, about a wonderful bunch of guys.

Yesterday I made a resolution to complete and wrap one Christmas present a day until I get all the mostly ready-made gifts done, then concentrate on finishing the "projects." But today I've only wrapped Jesse's birthday gift--I mean Reed's.

Oh, well, the day is--not young, but middle-aged.

Happy Birthday to Reed, and Vann, and Me, and any other December people. Reed and Vann are lovely Sagittarii, but my birthday is much later, and I'm just an old nanny Goat.

Hoping "No news is good news!"

Dr. G. hasn't called to tell me what the ultrasound showed. So I'm hoping (1) he hasn't lost the pictures, and (2) they didn't show anything unusual.


I'm making one of these for my great-nephew--that is, I'm trying to make one. So when he's in a monster mood, he can be a Cookie Monster.

Just some pretty pictures to cheer me up. And to cheer up anyone else who is susceptible to masks, costumes, cats and dogs.

There is life after Tuesday.

My exam yesterday went OK, except for the sitting around waiting for people and running back and forth in between. Had to go to the lab twice--I think they dropped my first four vials of blood. Dr. G. sent me for ultrasound of my carotid arteries, because he said he "heard something" in my neck; probably just a frog in my throat. And a minor condition I thought might be Something turned out to be Nothing.

All of that took so long (nearly 6 hours of sitting and running), I didn't even mention the warts on my forehead, lest I couldn't get home before dark. When the Checkout asked when I wanted my next appointment, I said 2012, but had to settle for January in the year of ten. I hate appointments. Even for something good, an appointment is like a great Gordian knot hanging over my head.

The worst thing (so far) about a med exam, is that it takes several days to recover my enthusiasm for participating in civilization. I just want to crawl under the bed and cease. But there isn't room under the bed or sofa, nowhere to hide.

Old Abe (my car) hummed along like a new Mercedes. I had forgot how pleasant it is to drive up and down the highway on a nice day.

Busy week(s) ahead

Yesterday I read Redbird Christmas by Fannie Flagg, Nell's choice for our December book club meeting. It's a delightful little novelette, something like Steel Magnolias without the tragedy.

This week? Ooohhhh, get me another cup of coffee........

After tomorrow, it looks like fun though still hectic. Funny, cleaning the basement seems like fun compared to The Annual Physical. My doctor always tries so hard to find something wrong with me. And he never says anything like, "How amazing! You've got the body of a 40-year-old!" Which it wouldn't hurt him to do once every ten years or so.

But I do look forward to continuing to make Christmas presents--I'm planning on giving almost totally homemade stuff this year. Use up some of these drawers-full and shelves-full of fabrics and craft thingies. But today I can only walk up and down the hall in a dither. The dictionary says a dither is a nervously excited or confused condition. I may be confused, but definitely not excited.