iStuff

Can we get some new font options here?

While I can navigate pretty well through the world wide web and can do most of the simple up to the not-quite-so-simple operations on a computer, I confess to having no knowledge whatsoever regarding anything made by Apple. If I use a mac, it's because someone set it all up for me to get my email off it. I haven't a clue how they work. I understand they are more user friendly and probably superior, but Microsoft is more popular and it's easier to get things that are compatible with Windows. I admit to taking the easy route.

I had this vague thought that it might be nice to borrow the Child's iPod for my trip. I don't process noise well, and having music might be useful to keep me from sticking a fork up someone's nose. While walking today with Late (Yes! I walked! Maybe only 5 miles, but it's a start.) we pulled into the Apple store. My thoughts had progressed from borrowing an iPod for music to getting one of my own that does movies.

It's impressive to me to hold a small little plastic box that can play full length movies very clearly on little tiny screens. When I was born, TVs were very new. We had a remote - that means my parents and my brother made me get up to change channels. There was a big dial, and I turned it to get to one of the 4 channels we had. Today's technology seems to be aiming for both the biggest and the smallest screens possble.

So, I asked the sales girl if there is a way I can view NetFlix movies on an iPod or iTouch. I don't want to buy movies from iTunes, I want to view them once and move on. I am not a repeat watcher. (OK, I saw Batman twice.) She said no, then she also added: (1) Maybe, (2) Probably, (3) Probably not, but maybe, (4) I am not sure, (4) Maybe some of them, if they aren't something or another, (5) Sure, (6) Let me check. (The last was in response to my question, "Could you ask someone here who might know the answer?"

She came back with pretty much the same answer. She didn't tell me that iTunes will soon be renting out movies themselves. It doesn't matter, since they won't be available to me soon enough, and it doesn't sound like they will have much of a list available anyway. Late and I continued to check out the toys, and a sales guy joined us. We asked him the same basic question. His answer?

"If you can find the right software online, yes, you can." Then he seemed to reconsider his answer and went through pretty much the same list as the sales girl. However, I had heard what I needed to hear, so we said thanks, and left. I planned to go home and look up what I needed to see. So far, none of the software I have found works with Vista, but I haven't tried really hard yet.

I sent an email to a friend to ask for advice, and he told me that he bought an iPod and just wiped the whole iTunes thing off and replaced it with something else that will do any MP3 song.

Honestly, I still don't get it.

I think I will just pack an extra book, and avoid touching any forks.

 

 

 

Finally Getting My Whine

Lots has happened since I have been writing regularly. I had a birthday, as I do every year. There was no whisper of a possible bar fight this year. Child and her bf took me out to a very nice seafood restaurant, then we went to another for dessert. I felt spoiled. It was nice :-)

I never finished my travelogue of Arizona, but suffice it to say that I had a very wonderful time, sans tree pruning and weed pulling. One day Late and I walked with Myra, who lives not all that far from Late's house there. We walked in Sabino Canyon. Late and I had not been there before, but we will go again. I also won't be able to stay away from the trails in the park that is so close to Late's house that I can find it all by myself now.

Late is going back to AZ on January 1, with her son. Her husband has already been there for a week. Late could get every day off to go with him except one, so she had to go later. I am not going with them. I am leaving not long after for Florida.

Finally, after several years of asking for my favorite whine (I want to go to Flooooridaaaa!) someone came through for me and I get my whine. We won't be there very long, but it will be long enough for me to meet up with Martha, which should be a hoot to watch. After lunch, we are going walking on the beach. Me, with my feet in their current condition and Martha after surgery for her poor exploding body.

If my feet don't improve, I will have to have my Achilles' tendons sliced. You bet I am wearing my Santa Boot cast every night on my left foot. However, every morning I find it on the floor. I have been going to physical therapy three times a week. It's going well, now that I tossed out the orthotics. I am almost positive I can avoid the surgery. In fact, I have set myself a goal of being able to walk long distances again by the time I leave.

Optimistic, you say? I was recently up close and personal twice with someone with the flu. The six-week real flu. Child's boyfriend had the nastiest cold on Christmas that I have ever seen. Me? My feet hurt. Didn't catch anything. Tried again today to get the flu, but I betcha I didn't. I sometimes would like to trade my exceptional immune system for fewer weird body injuries, but I think if I got sick now after all these years that I would be so miserably rotten that I would drag everyone else down with me. Maybe I am better off with weird injuries.

On Christmas, I was supposed to go to my nephew's house because Child never got back to me. Two days before Christmas, she decided to call me and say they are coming for dinner. I was in no mood at that point to set up a big dinner, so I said I had recently made some chili and froze most of it, so we would have chili and snacks. She is not a big eater (any more) either, so she said that would be fine. At the last minute, she called and said they were eating dinner at her bf's family's house, and would be late getting here. Like 8:30 pm. it wasn't my chili, which she loves and insisted on taking some home with her. I think they just went there to exchange presents and couldn't get out of dinner. This time I had de-farted the chili - some of you might remember the time I didn't when I was slightly annoyed at the child.

Feeling a little neglected, I started making up bags of homemade cookies and dog treats. The dogs and I delivered them to about ten neighbors, which was very cheering. 'Tis better to give, and all that. However, at one point, when I was carrying two bags of treats and cookies, I spied a German Shepherd who clearly outweighed me and the dogs together, almost. It was off leash, and a small woman was sitting on the porch next to him. I mumbled, "big dog," and dragged the beagles to the other side of the road, just in case. The dog does not live here, and we have leash laws. Strict laws.

Predictably, the dog put his hackles up and charged us. I froze, other than to put one arm up, and yelled firmly at the dog, "NO!" Sometimes that makes a well trained dog stop. Not this one. What does the owner do? I am waving my arms around, yelling at her, telling her we have leash laws, that I have pepper spray, I get it out of my pocket (I had no intentions of using it unless someone was bleeding badly), and generally carry on rather loudly about her dog (with its hackles still up) who is all over us.

Maybe it was the cookies. I don't know. She seemed surprised that her dog did that, but I wasn't. I seem to attract dogs off leash. I heard her very gently say, "bad," and then she ambled over and dragged her dog bodily by his upraised hackles back to the porch. We continued on to the next house we were delivering to. When my friend opened the door, she asked if I was OK. I explained what happened, and went through her back yard for the next delivery, because it was the only way to avoid running into that dog again. I wondered afterward if perhaps she had a hearing disability, but I think my body language was very clear, and she never offered any kind of apology, verbal or by gesture.

It's not that I don't get along with and like almost all animals. The Friday before Christmas I was at a small party at a home with three cats. They told me that one of the cats was feral. They have had him for years, and no one has ever been able to get close enough to pet him besides them. It wasn't long before they noticed their feral cat rubbing my hand. Purring. He seemed more than pleased to have me pet him. I just don't like unknown unleashed dogs charging me when I am walking two tasty beagles. What am I supposed to do, pick them both up? One lady here now carries a wooden staff, at least 6 feet long. A very large dog from outside our complex attacked her and her one little dog one day - I heard it was scary, but no one was hurt, luckily. I can't carry a 6' dowel and walk two dogs. I would impale myself trying to scoop poop. A real Kodak moment, I am sure.

Where am I going with all these unconnected thoughts?

Florida.

  

 

I was Malled

Y'all know I can spell, so hopefully no one thought I was mauled. No, being mauled would maybe be easier this time of year. I had to go to the mall.

It's true that every Sunday morning and often on Fridays I am at one mall or another to walk with Late. I enjoy the walks and the talks with Late. We solve all the world's problems, plan new trips, discuss the idiosyncracies of the male half of the species, observe odd specimens of either sex who are also at the mall, and generally chat so much that we don't even realize that we have walked up to ten miles. That is not the same as Going To The Mall. It is especially not the same as Going To The Mall During Holiday Shopping Season.

Child has a boyfriend. It seems pretty serious. It's definitely serious enough that this year I have to buy gifts for two people. Normally, I only shop for Child. I have ceased exchanging gifts with anyone else. It was a relief to get to this stage. Child and I have a specific dollar limit on shopping, even, so we know when to stop. It allows us to enjoy the rest of the season more comfortably. It really does.

I am also the type of odd duck who doesn't believe in being given a list and being told to go buy someone stuff that they can just as easily get during the year for themselves. There is no surprise in that. I don't accept lists. This leaves me with buying something special for someone I don't know very well. I feel I am up to the challenge, and made a decision. I walked with Late on Sunday all through our local upscale mall seeking this item. No dice. It must not be considered high end enough. OK, I find things pretty well.

I went online and found that the mall closest to me is only one of two places in the entire state that carries this item. I brought up the map, which showed the store to be on the outside of the mall. That was even better. This mall might be only about 5 miles from me, but it's not my favorite place to go. I don't know it very well. I put this trip off for days and finally went yesterday around 3 pm.

The store was not where the map showed it to be. I drove all the way around the mall twice to be sure. I am also an odd duck who will do anything to avoid paying to get a phone number. I just draw the line there. My choice wasto drive back home, get the number, and call the store to see where they were. Surely they knew where they were, even if I didn't. Instead, I remembered that my $4.99 a month Internet service on my phone was recently upgraded to include some new options. Several of my friends make fun of my phone Internet service - why not just get a smart phone and get the "real" Internet? Anyway, after a few minutes of whapping on buttons and making some far-fetched guesses on where to find the information, I found it! Yay! I called the store, and was advised that they were in the mall, upstairs.

I parked my car in a section of the mall that I don't usually use. Pauline will understand this. I have an area in every mall where I park. That way, my car can't be more than 2-3 rows away from where I think it is. I went in the mall, found the store, made my purchase and was ready to go within 10 minutes. Instead, I decided to walk a little and try to learn my way around it. Why not? I had the time.

I have also decided that my Achilles' tendons probably shortened up a bit due to the tarsal tunnel problem I had in my right foot. The extreme pain I had then caused me to take short steps. Recovery after surgery took 18 months, and then I realized that I no longer had the ability to walk Really Fast, but had no idea why. I just accepted it, and decided to go for distance, if I couldn't get good speed. I can walk normally, but I used to really move fast. I think during that time of pain and recovery from surgery that the tendons decided to tighten up, as they assumed they weren't needed as much any more. So, I think if I take slightly, just very slightly, longer strides, I might start to correct my problem a little. I proceeded to take slightly longer strides (which hurts, but not extremely so) and walked around the mall a few times. I probably walked 2-3 miles when I decided I was getting hot in my winter jacket and wanted to leave.

Nice plan. Where did I park? I knew from the outside, but not from the inside. I walked around the first floor several times, looking for my entrance. Nothing looked right. All I could remember was that I parked by valet parking. I couldn't even remember walking in by a store other than seeing a sign for a window company. When I looked on a mall map, there was nothing regarding a window company, so I figured it must have just been a large ad for a window company.

So, I walked some more. I like to walk, after all. I really do enjoy it. I grabbed a diet Coke and walked more. I looked in windows as I went by, stopped to touch a few things, watched people, and walked. Eventually I began to wonder about myself. Where did I park and how do I get there? I went outside one door that was familiar, but realized that I would need to walk way around a section that had no sidewalk to get to the lot I was parked in. I didn't stop to notice that it went up.

Finally I meandered into the security section and asked a very nice young man with a gorgeously shaped mouth where the valet parking was. He said there are two places, both on the second floor.

Oops. I had forgotten that in that mall, some of the doors go outside from the second floor. I thanked him and turned down his offer of having someone drive me around to find my car. Once I realized that I needed to be upstairs, I went right to my car, and spied the window store (that is not on the mall directory) on the way out.

By the time I got home, my left foot was very sore and swollen. I told it to cut that crap out because I intend to walk. I put my cast on for a few extra hours and laughed at myself. Is my future some day to be in a mall, walking for days, trying to find my way out? When I finally go to leave, will I try to pull when I should push, too?

 

 

Seasonal Joy

Sometimes I just have to do what my mind and body tell me. I was feeling a strong calling from the frozen section in my favorite fruit market. It is that time of year again - peppermint ice cream. This is the pink kind, with little pieces of pink peppermint in it. The ice cream is very rich and creamy. It just glides into my mouth and melts, leaving a smile on my face. It's seasonal, and I can't get it all year long. Oh, sure, there are other peppermint ice creams on the market, but this particular kind is only available around the holidays.

I approached the freezer with trepidation. I have just lost weight - is eating something like ice cream a good idea? I normally only give in to an occasional Dairy Queen, which is made from ice milk and not so rich. Spooning it out myself rather than getting a small cone - hm, harder to control the portion. I decided that it is a good time, since I did just lose some pounds and, in fact, my jeans were at that very moment needing a hike before they slid too far south. Surely a few dishes of ice cream couldn't ruin my hard work?

Another option immediately popped into my mind. I am not really one to eat sauces or use dips. I like foods as they are or I don't like them. I do not go with the concept of hiding something nasty under something horribly unhealthy in order to eat the nasty thing which is "good for me." For example, I don't see why people put a cheese sauce on broccoli if they don't like broccoli. Find something else that tastes good, and eat it. But, I digress. I was gazing at whipped cream.

Whipped cream isn't really hiding anything, is it? It adds to the flavor. It enhances the texture. It tastes good in it's very own light. Who hasn't taken an extra spoon of whipped cream at some point and just savored it with a guilty little smile? Exactly. Whipped cream adds to the visual of the dish, also. A pretty arrangement of confection that imitates the seasonal accumulation of snow that so many people love to see. Not a sauce or a dip - but an enhancement. Why not add something to the special treat to make it even more enjoyable? It's not like I can continue to indulge in this wicked desire forever. The ice cream will cease to be produced in a matter of weeks.

Best to grab it while it's available, is how I see it.

Then, there is also spumoni, a seasonal flavor......

 

 

A Casting Call

My travelogue wasn't moving along very well so I decided to write about something else.

Several years ago I had major issues with my right foot. It wasn't pretty. I had physical therapy, X-rays, MRIs, cortisone shots, a moon boot cast on for 3 months 23/7, I had orthotics, I had everything you can think of. When my employer sent me a letter saying I had to discontinue using my sick time for physical therapy (illegal request), I went to my doctor, grabbed him by the throat, and said, "JUST FIX IT!"

Luckily I did that, because after I had walked around for years with miserable and intense pain with a diagnosis of plantar fasciitis, I had actually had tarsal tunnel. I had three nerves in my right foot that were grown into the muscle, and were crushed. When I woke up, the doctor excitedly told me, "I have never seen anything like this!" I said, "Knock me back out....." Within 18 months I was walking normally again. Oh boy!

Now my left foot has gone south, but it's not the same problem. Both feet were hurting pretty badly until this last trip to AZ. Towards the end of the walk out of Sabino Canyon (3.8 miles in, 3.8 miles out, plus my little excursion for some "privacy" for a moment) I felt like the bottom insides of my foot were on fire, shortened, and had grown razor blades. I tried to ignore it. After that, I wore my orthotics in my shoes for going up hill and took them out and put in the normal insoles for downhill. It seemed to keep me mobile. Sort of.

Same doctor. He told me I have contracted Achilles' tendons, bilaterally. That means both feet have tightened tendons. The right one is slightly improved, or else the left hurts so much that I don't notice the right. I will wake up at night with shooting pains. It's charming.

His current fix? Wear a cast at night. OK, I can do that. However, he says, I have to have a "regular" cast put on, wear it for 24 hours, then return and they will saw it off and make it removable so I can wear it just at night. I said no can do. I would go home and saw it off. I have claustrophobia. I admit it. If there are support groups for this, I bet they are held in small, locked rooms. I also had visions of taking two dogs out to pee every two hours in the snow and ice while I am on crutches, unable to even touch the left foot to the ground, even on the stairs, while the cast is not totally set.

Next step. For claustrophobes, they make us get the cast on, sit in the office for 4 hours, and then they saw it off and make it removable. Still, no weight on it at all for 24 hours. That, I said I could do.

So, Monday I sat at the doctor's office for 4 hours in a chair with a walker in front of me. I propped my cast on the walker and read for 4 hours. ST couldn't even sit with me, but he did call from the airport on his way out of the country for a business trip. Luckily, I managed to wait until I got home to use the ladies' room. I don't do crutches well - it hurts my hands. I found that out after the surgery on the right foot.

I left the doctor's office with my little purse, a bag with my book, diet soda, and snacks in it. I also carried a cast with a black "shoe" on it. I chose a hot pink cast. They had to wrap large white velcro straps on it. It looks like Santa was amputated just below the knee. I had to carry that to my car.

My next shopping trip will be to get some fake white fur so I can decorate this attractive medical appliance. Maybe add some bells. Ho, ho ho. I have to sleep with it on my foot for 6 weeks. I asked what do I do if I travel? Take it with me. Ho, ho, ho. Does that count as a carry on?

So I have been sleeping since Monday with a cast on my left leg. Every night I have started to put it on my right foot, probably from the old routine. Once I realize it's not going to work, I laugh, and switch feet. No progress yet. I still get up feeling like the bottom of my foot is too short and can only walk totally flat footed, and even that hurts. I had concerns about restless leg syndrome and a cast, but that hasn't been a problem. My doctor says that tight Achilles' tendons can cause RLS, so I might get rid of it once my tendons are back to normal.  

The other option? Have a slice into my left calf, maybe 1-2 inches long. He would reach all the way to the other side of my tendon from there also, and make a few small nicks into the tendon. It would then loosen a bit, eliminating the foot pain.

Sounds easy, doesn't it? Did I leave off the part where I would have to wear a regular cast 24/7 for 3 weeks? No can do. Then a soft cast or walking boot or both for another 3 weeks.

So I sleep in the cast, go to physical therapy 3 times a week, do exercises at home, and hope for the best. I also lost 10 pounds, hoping to relieve a little pressure on my feet.

My doctor is a very staid guy. Just seeing his excitement after he saw the insides of my right foot seemed out of character. Very serious fellow. After the last visit with him, I asked him, as his had was on the doorknob to leave the room, if he has foot pain. Oh yes - he has the same thing I do. He smiled (first time I saw that since we talked about AZ and rattlesnakes), and said he literally, truly feels my pain.

I want to walk 10 miles at a time without (much) pain again. I want to hike in the mountains without whining. I love to walk. Whatever it takes, except a cast I am not able to remove. It's OK if it is removable and I am told not to - I can handle that. But if it cannot be removed, we have a problem, and I have a recpirocating saw. Some weird thing inside of me just knows that it would strangle the hell out of me. Sometimes I have to slide my watch a little lower down my wrist because it feels too tight. Luckily I have never had a broken bone that required a cast. (OK, once I did, but I refused the cast and wore a splint.)

Wish me luck. I can do this. I am naturally limber and generally stretch very easily. Hopefully this includes my Achilles' tendons.

Perhaps I over-worry about this, but the thought of having to choose between a lifetime of pain and a cast I can't remove is not where I want to drag myself.

 

 

A Thousand Cuts

I will need to get the photos from Late for this story. We spent 8 days in the Tucson area. Two of them were spent on yard work. Stick your hand up if you remember one of the two main reasons I moved to my condo. The other reason was to get away from a home with four levels to it. Late obviously does not ever do any yard work, so I had to be Boss Manager. I was happy to be able to help, since Late has had me along on five trips there now, and allow me to have the casita to myself.

First, keep in mind that I have always lived where it rains at least once every two weeks. Our ground is never baked hard as cement. We have grass, trees, bushes, flowers - things freeze, but they don't bake. We spent one day removing weeds from her "yard." The yard consists of gravel and weeds. Later, we went to get some nice, toxic RoundUp. I showed Late how to spray while I found something else to do - my wrists won't allow me to do much spraying any more.

The second day of my mangement stint involved tree pruning. Late figured it couldn't be that hard to prune a few trees. I have done much pruning in my homeowning time, and since I am a bit of a perfectionist and these trees had never been touched, I anticipated a lot of work. Another trip to the hardware produced a small hand snip, a lopper, and a small folding saw - plus a new set of very good gloves. Late got the good gloves - I figured she needed them as a novice. I used the old gloves that were not very protective. We had each used one to pull weeds.

Mesquite trees? They are all trees to me - I figured I had a leg up since the trees were still rather small. No ladder required - between us we could reach it all with the loppers. No big deal, right? A few hours of trimming and cutting and cleaning up, and all would be beautiful.

Thorns? I had no idea that mesquite trees have billions of needles on them. I also ate nothing all day. After a few hours, I decided beer was the way to go, and eventually finished off a mixed six-pack of some sort of blueberry flavored beer and some Miller Chill, plus one Stella Artois. It was so hot and I sweated so much that I don't think I really got any effect other than to barely hydrate myself. Still, maybe my judgment was off just a tiny bit. I was constantly being slashed, stabbed, poked, punctured and generally sliced by the tree. I am sure I heard it giggle and snicker a few times.

Early on I told Late that the most important thing is to keep tossing the lopped off pieces away from the tree and to bag the pieces. I mentioned that letting the clean up get behind meant trying to be constantly bending over and bagging the pieces we cut off after we were exhausted and past caring. I offered to do the pruning if she wanted to cut the pieces smaller and bag them - I figured that would be the fastest way to go, but she decided to attempt to acquire a new skill. Slowly. Now and then she hit something she needed me to finish up for her - usually involving the saw - and of course that involved first picking up all the thorny pieces she had absently let fall straight down onto the ground and toss them aside so I could even get to the branch she needed help with. Many cuts, much blood shed.

I had no idea that it was possible to be allergic to mesquite. All my cuts swelled up and were bright red. I mean ALL - I was covered in slices and punctures. My class reunion is coming up in a week - I discarded any plans for short sleeves or even a skirt. I would have to be well covered. Wearing long sleeves and long pants was no help for the mesquite thorns - it went right through. It went through my gloves, too. I had figured it for a 4-hour job. Maybe if we had stuck to my original plan, we could have done that. As it was, we took 8-9 hours. After about 6-7 hours, I realized Late had bagged nothing at all. I stopped my pruning and started bagging, shredding myself even more, although I always tried to be careful.

We ended up with ten 40-gallon bags of clippings from the trees. Late isn't at the house all that much so they don't have trash service. We sure didn't want to leave the stuff around as a fire hazard, and we didn't really know what to do with it. Luckily she lives in a growing area and there were dumpsters around. We had scouted a few during our morning walks for regular small bags of trash.

The rental car company decided we needed a small car with only two doors. Getting those over-stuffed trash bags (no, I am not the one who over-stuffed them - I know they get too heavy)into the backseat was almost impossible. The trunk opening was about the size of a glove box. It took three trips for us to dispose of the bags.

By that time, we were exhasuted. We put our tools away, and I explained about needing some oil to put on the tools to keep them in good working condition. Late just looked at me. How did I know this stuff and why did she care? We put them away dirty, much to my dismay. I was too tired to make an issue of it. Late decided we needed to return to the brewery we had been to before, and I was almost too tired to eat. I ate half of a half of a small pizza, had another beer, and was done.

No need to stick a fork in me, I had been prodded enough.

this is from one of our hikes - I think it's Catalina State Park.

 

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Add in Action

I never did finish my last trip, did I? I wandered off into the bowels of my life and just never found time to concentrate on getting the information down or the pictures posted. I can still do that, another day. I can even add stories and pictures from my next trip, since it is coming up fast.

A month or so ago I was happily collating the ideas of five possible trips by the end of this year. They included Arizona, Reno, New Orleans, Toronto, and Chicago. I wanted to do all of them, but time, money, and dog sitters would not have allowed it. About two weeks later, none of the trips were actually happening and it put me into a bit of a, to use the professional term, funk.

Another week or so later, Late called me and decided she was going to get the time off from work after all and was I still willing to go? Yes, I said. So, with me on my computer and her on the phone, and her husband on his computer, we simultaneously booked flights to Tucson and even managed, with little planning, to sit together most of the trip. Had we booked when I was ready, we would have had non-stop flights to Phoenix for half the fare, but who is complaining? I am sure the airports in Dallas and Chicago will provide their usual entertainment. Last time in Dallas they moved our departing gate five times.

I try not to mourn the lost trips. Others will surely take their places at some point. Chicago was particularly interesting for me, but it was not to be.

Now, as anticipated, I am in full-blown PreTravel Freak Mode. I am not in the dance yet - that will probably happen tomorrow. I was trying a little while ago to pack. I figured if I started early, I could avoid some of the ADD issues that plague me when I travel.

No dice. As usual, I have been dragging all my favorite things out of the closet and threatening to donate everything else. I have at least two dozen shoes on the floor under the suitcase, waiting patiently to see if they will be chosen or not for this particular flight. I have recently been fitted with orthotics with the hopes of avoiding having my Achille's Tendons sliced, and I must chose shoes carefully. Contracted tendons indeed. What about pretty shoes?

Dog sitters are not entirely lined up, but almost. I have needed to accumulate approximately six people to cover for me for a week. I still have some gaps in time I am desperately trying to get covered.

I spent the weekend steaming carpets, cleaning the garage, sorting and filing paperwork - the usual last minute rush before travel that I always set myself up with. Books have been dragged from the library shelves, and I have to pick up more yet today. At least three hardback books will go in my luggage along with my computer, causing me to bite my tongue on many a creative phrase when I have to try to lift the small pilot bag that is carefully holding my prized possessions.

If I have missed contacting any of my friends from j-land who are in the Phoenix-Tucson area, please let me know! I look forward to seeing as many of you as possible, as always. If anyone is sending me email, please put your name in the subject line because I will be emailing by phone again, and all I can see is the subject line. It's a slow, slow process unless I can get my computer to a wi-fi spot. Or, my ass to the library.

My mind is wandering around like a lost child in a dangerous tool store. What about this that needs to be done? What about the other thing that needs to be done before I can even think about doing that? What about getting those three pairs of slacks hemmed first? They aren't going with me, why do I need to hem them first? Well, just because. Do I have enough food for the sitters? Will I remember to cook enough for the dogs? Can I get all the directions to everyone in time, and keys distributed as needed?

I do blame this odd pre-travel behavior on my adult-onset ADD. I never had trouble with packing before - I took my time, got everything together I needed, and packed lightly. I could have, at any time, packed in an hour and forgotten nothing, if necessary.

All I know, is that when the time comes, somehow I will be ready to walk out the door and what needs to be done, will be. I don't have any idea how it works. I think it goes in the category with the old joke about people who love sausage and respect the law. They should never watch either being made. No one should ever watch me get ready to travel.

 

 

Just Pick One

Another highly trained professional Comcast cable guy was out this morning to fix everything and make it all perfect for me.

Right. At least this one called first, unlike the last one who sat in my driveway and smoked a cigarette. I am allergic to cigarette smoke. I can still smell it in here.

I really want to describe this guy as I saw him, but don't want to insult anyone. Let's say he was confident he was the Man for the Job.

First, he looked at my modem, my router, and my VoIP gizmo. Then, he took all his little tools outside and made some noise out there while I scrubbed and scraped the runoff from the dog dinners I cooked up last night to freeze. What a mess! Does anything smell worse than chicken livers? I cannot believe I touched raw chicken livers. I still gag at the thought of the odors from the chicken livers and the okra I decided to add to the recipe, but the dogs have re-crowned me the Food Goddess.

So, while I am cleaning and scraping he is doing whatever outside and I am not paying any attention to him.

He comes back in, all proud of himself, and tells me my intermittent service (that just started) was caused by the fact that "they" had laid an indoor line outdoors.

I asked him Which one?

This confused him. I had to explain that my condo was originally pre-wired by Comcast for cable. (It's why I cannot switch to another cable company - my condo people gave Comcast an exclusive contract because they wired our condos.) Then, that first highly trained professional told me I had no idea what I was talking about and put a second line through my backyard.

Now I have THREE of them. Too bad, since none of them work and I will soon be dropping all cable services.

Today's highly trained professional cable guy proceeded to work through his little check list.

He interrupted my diligent cleaning to tell me that I have intermittent service because I have a very weak signal. I forgot if he said it was coming that way from the box or from the station. I was too busy wondering how I got the second and third diagnoses.

Why do I have an intermittent signal? I don't know. I still have it. I keep getting kicked offline and then get back on. It's highly annoying.

However, with the change to the intermittent service came some very high speed. I think I was probably supposed to get this speed all along, or perhaps my signal is coming in testosterone-laden spurts?

Who knows? I will never know.

Once I can get things set up, all cable services will be ended. I will switch to dry-DSL. Dry means no landline. It costs more, but it costs less than installing a third phone line here, which I do not need. My VoIP service backs up my cell phone just fine, and with a reputable DSL company here my phone and internet service will probably work all the time.

What a nice change that will be :-)

If I were a guy, I would say some things about what Comcast can do to my boy parts, but that wouldn't be ladylike, would it?

I wonder if any court would agree that if I had only 50% signal and no one realized it until now, I should get 50% of my money back? What about the indoor line outdoors? What about the first highly trained professional who refused to go in the attic because it was too hot, yet managed to get the cover off to the attic and dribbled insulation all over my dry clean clothes? Then he left his tools here and called me and yelled at ME about it? What about the second tech who was highly inappropriate with me regarding trying to spend the night here with me?

Comcast refuses to deal with anything except the first tech. His manager came out here and washed off the filth the tech left on my ceilings from his hands. Was I supposed to get a ladder and reach up 9-11 feet with only one working shoulder and wash off the ceilings in my new condo? I don't think so. I didn't wipe my hands on the ceiling. Or the walls by the outlets. I had only been here a few weeks when he did that.

It took a year, but Comcast did finally have someone from Security call me regarding the second tech. I gave him all the information I could remember, including personal details of the guy's life (he talked all day about himself), a very good description of the guy, and some exact quotes of things he said to me that he should not have said. Surely they can check the records and see that the guy stayed here all afternoon to hook up a pre-wired home with one TV and one computer. I didn't want him here, but I wanted my service hooked up, so I was polite. Barely.

Wow. I was only kicked offline twice while I wrote this, so far.

I will cancel cable TV and cable internet. I will not get any other cable TV, since I cannot. I have no interest in satellite since I don't watch TV anyway. I will get DSL and keep VoIP. This should work for me.

Let's hope so - since all the records showing dates, times, and names of all my calls to Comcast were lost when my old computer crashed.

 

My new computer

Comcast has again given me issues with my connection, so I am afraid to try to write the next chapter about my trip to AZ. Instead, I wish to include pictures of my computer. Keep in mind that I did not see the computer in advance - they didn't have any out on display, and they were hesitant to open a box. I was OK with that - the salesman did show me pictures, but somehow the design on the computer did not sink in until after I had it at home. Here are two views:

Come to your own conclusions as to the intent of the artist, but in my personal opinion, the design looks to me to be a rendition of someone trying to shove an octopus up someone's ass.

Several reviews I read, written by men, exclaimed repeatedly over how much they love the looks of this particular computer.

Uh huh.

 

 

 

Thursday

Maybe next time I should take notes when I am gone - although I had intended to write my entries while still in AZ. I just never got to a wi-fi place. I was able to pick up email, sort of, from my phone. I had told most of my friends to put their name in the subject so I would know who sent them. There was one sent the day I left from home with the title of "no subject" and it got buried under a few hundred incoming emails. (I still get a lot from Molly's online support group for her Addison's disease.) It was from someone in AZ I would have liked to say hi to while I was there. I found it when I got home, and I felt bad about that.

Thursday. That was the day Late and I decided to do girlie stuff. We got up and went for a morning walk, as usual. I did my usual "hang" from the kids' monkey bars. I haven't kept that up since I got home, and I need to do it. My old house had a great tree branch for that sort of thing, but the trees here are still too small to really hold even a bird feeder yet. We had a good walk, just the two of us, and the guys went to a place for breakfast that I am not crazy about. It's up in Oro Valley on Oracle road. We seemed to spend a lot of time in that area.

Late decided we were going to join the boys at that restaurant, even though it was close to lunch time. So off we went, and of course they were just finishing. I asked DS to get up so I could sit down, but the table was such a mess from his breakfast that I wasn't really excited about it. He doesn't like to be on the inside in a booth, so I couldn't just start to sit and shove him over.

DS continued to beg to go with us for the day. I said, "But DS! We are going shopping for ladies' lingerie!" (I figured that would scare off any teenage boy.) He said that was fine with him.Obviously, he did not want to go with his dad that day and would endure any humiliation. We did not save him.

DH hadn't moved over yet for Late either, so I suggested we sit in the (clean) booth across the aisle. Right after we sat down, they left. I wanted to leave too and eat some place else, but we had already started to order. We had lunch there, and it wasn't too bad.

After eating, we took off with Late driving and me navigating. I can read maps, since I spent a few decades in a job that required me to find homes all over three or more counties in my state. That is what I did about half the time - make home calls. You would think that after a while a map wouldn't be needed, but there are always weird little streets, plus I moved offices several times and had all new field areas. Maps I am good with.

I directed us to the mall in Tucson on Broadway where we had been before. I actually could have done it without the map, which made me exceedingly proud. I can get lost in a closet. Even if I have good directions to get some place, I need directions to get home. It's that bad. I am trying very hard to improve my directional skills, but I have little hope. I memorize streets; I can't seem to see a big picture even after staring at a map. I think maybe this is something we are born with or without? Late has incredible directional skills. So did my ex. I do not.

We spent a nice few hours in the mall just walking, talking girl stuff, looking at things, having a Dairy Queen, and generally enjoying time away from the guys. No offense to men, but sometimes I just need time away from them. We had a snack, and then Late decided she wasn't feeling well.

I decided I wasn't looking forward to driving back on the freeway, so we gave her time to feel better. She has lactose intolerance, but I am not sure she had any cheese that day. She has a sensitive system, unlike my cast iron one, and I had no idea what to do for her.

She got some water, we sat for a while, we walked around a bit, we went to the ladies's room a few times. She got a pretzel and ate that. I took a phone call and made plans for the day after I got home. We walked around a bit more. Late is a woman of color, and at that time it was green.

Finally she decided I needed to drive us back. Oh, boy. Last time I did that I refused to get on I-10 and we took a long way around. I got on I-10 and drove us back. I can drive I-10 for almost 100 miles at 80-85 mph through the desert to get up to where Remo and Mombzbe are, but put me in a city freeway system I don't know, and I am not a happy camper. Driver. Whatever.

Meanwhile, the boys were having dinner and we went to join them. I am not sure why we did, since once again they were done when we got there. Late decided we would have dinner at a new brewery, and we left them. When we got in the car, I teased her about having told them where we were going, because they would show up.

We sat down, ordered a beer each, and were still browsing the menu when the boys joined us. They stayed for dinner with us and we all left at the same time.

That was our day without the guys.

What did they do between breakfast and dinner?

They went to Picacho Peak to hike. DH is an avid adventurer, and doesn't like to stop much. Heat doesn't bother him at all, maybe even less than it bothers me, but I will stop and rest and I will take along a lot of water. He doesn't. He pushes himself. (I used to, until once I unbalanced my electrolytes - that feels really nasty.) DS didn't pack his own water. The temperature was about 110 degrees there. Humid. DS may never forgive us for not taking him shopping for lingerie, but he needs dad/son time before he goes off to college. 

I was bummed that I missed Picacho Peak. Maybe next time.

That evening, DH, DS and I stood on the driveway and then took a little walk to watch for the meteor shower. It was a little early, but I saw four, which includes one I saw later on when I went out alone. With shoes on. With a flashlight. With my cell phone in my pocket. Just to go on the driveway.

It's really, really dark there at night. Really dark. Drop something, and it's gone if you don't have a flashlight. DH found that out when DS took apart their flashlight and all the pieces and the batteries flew around and hit the ground. Luckily I had mine.

Friday: Hm, what was Friday? Kitt Peak and Catalina Park.

We went up there:

See the observatory up on top of the mountain? That may be where Frankenstein used to work - the weather we had that day certainly forbode of such tales!

 

 

Wednesday

I know today is Sunday, but I am writing about Wednesday from my trip. This was not a test to see who is sober.

Wednesday we got up and DH decided to join Late and I for our usual morning walk. He had a few things to do, and so we left a little later, hitting the sun higher in the sky. He also kept us out longer than usual. I still didn't have sun block with me for the morning walk, which ended after twelve noon. I was wearing little board shorts and a tank top. The tank top kept slipping lower - I kept pulling it up, but nevertheless, I got burned. I had my hair in another ponytail with a hat on again (they insisted on the damn hat) and my back burned, also. In fact, when we got back, it was a nice, deep shade of purple.

I announced that if they were ready to take off some place for the day to go, but I was going to spend a little time in a cool shower and then with an ice pack on my lower neck/upper back. I have had sun poisoning before and wasn't looking forward to anything like that. I took the shower, read for a while with some ice on my back, and then was ready to go.

No one else was. They all decided to go take a nap. Even their son, DS, was quiet.

Eventually we all packed into the car (with me as usual packing a small cooler full of water and snacks) and we went to Mount Lemon for the day, which is in  the Coronado National Forest, in the Santa Catalina Mountains north of Tucson, off the Catalina Highway. It was a hot day, (really! In AZ in the summer, it was hot!) maybe 105 degrees or so? But by the time we got up the mountains 9000 feet or so, it was cold. Late and I had sweatshirts with us, but the guys just got cold up there. It was maybe 70 degrees when we hit a little town up there called Summerhaven. There is an observatory there, but we didn't get to it.

It was an interesting ride for me. I had never been up mountains like that in a park. So many huge rock formations, for miles and miles, full of desert life and plants and trees. The higher we got, the greener it was. At least it was summer and there wasn't any ice on the roads.

We constantly parked the car and got out to walk around and take pictures. We took little side hikes, one time up a trail with this sign nearby:

It took me a while to get comfortable scrambling around on those big rocks and getting any where at all near an edge with a drop off. After a while, I lost some of my discomfort with it all and was as brave as my friends were, who had been in mountains many times before. (I have hiked up a mountain trail in TN, that was 2 hours up and two hours down without stops, but there were trees all around, not quite the same concept at all. It was a difficult hike/climb, not a major drive up for an hour into the mountains.) I am so happy they took me - I might never have found an opportunity otherwise for this (and the other) experiences.

Here are some of the views we saw. There is no way to give justice to the majesty of the mountains with a simple snapshot, but I did the best I could with what I had.

Some where down there is a river.Late and I walked down to it.

That is Late, taking her own pictures.

Late again. She wasn't late, but she is Late.

I even let her use my own camera for this. Note the regular t-shirt from the desert museum. I had to cover the burn.

Looking down on Tucson.

DS, Late, and DH

Scampering along - but I needed help getting off that rock, it was too high to jump down.

I felt on top of the world up there! It had an incredible view!

See what I mean?

Eventually we drove up into Summerhaven, had cookies that were so big mine lasted for three days, and then on to dinner that night. That may have been the night we went out to a steak house, and I ordered mine rare. It was cooked through, and not very good. Fortunately, I was too tired to care or to eat very much of it.

Late and I decided to take the next day off. We told the boys they were on their own. DH was all excited to go hiking where Late wasn't willing to go; DS wasn't excited to go hiking at all. It was too hot for him. He wanted to go with us.

Fat chance. We were going shopping and out to lunch in nice, air conditioned places. At that point, Late and I were very happy that I had rented my own car, even though I/we only used it 3 times.

 

 

 

 

 

Insect picture

I found my "bug picture." I had sent it to someone and still had the email. I took this picture in the Catalina Mountains park off Oracle Road, (Myra? Is that Oro Valley?) the day we were there during a thunderstorm. That was the same day we went up to Kitt Peak. No wonder my ears and a few other body parts got crabby! I live at an altitude of approximately 200 feet above sea level, not that we have a sea here besides Lake Superior, which I have heard called an inland sea. I thought seas had salt water?

 

 

 

 

Fubar and tenacity

I promised pictures of my trip, and I am going to stick a few in here from the desert museum. I have 105 pictures, one isn't very good - but I don't want to bore you with too many pictures of mountains. They are a novelty to me; some of you live with views of them every day.

Why the lost time between my last entry and this one? I had a mild case of ennui, I was busy, I was enjoying my rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. I read five books one weekend. I was boxing with the child. I helped my friend Cindy locate a new home much closer to [me, I mean to] her current job, I spent a day with a former co-worker who is not feeling at her cheeriest and we had a great time.

And, then, there was the fubar. Wednesday I had a wonderful lunch with a friend of mine. We spent the time discussing normal lunch time topics such as mathematical optimization (charts drawn on the paper napkin), garage storage systems, standard deviations, dog poop, ceiling fans, and the efficient frontier system (for investments). I know now why lawns should only be watered once a week and why ceiling fans should only be used on the lowest setting.

In a good mood, I returned home and went online. I was in the process of answering an email to my niece when - BAM. My computer was fubar.

I first noticed that I could not move the cursor back with the mouse to correct an error. I found I could open some things with the mouse, but could not close them. Knowing I was losing the email, I rebooted. Repeatedly.

Other things began to go wrong, and the computer froze up a few times. Not happy, I decided to do a restore, figuring early the same morning would be a good time to return to.

I rebooted again, and did not see the "recovery" screen during the reboot. I managed to get there anyway, and did not see "restore." By this time, i was in distress along with the computer, and I clicked on "recovery." I couldn't get the computer to do anything else - I had no choice.

I lost everything. All my personal documents and pictures for the last ten years that I had on the computer - gone. Some cannot be replaced. I felt violated.So, soldiering on, I tried to recover use of my computer. No dice. Could not get online no matter what I did.

My VOIP phone rang, so I knew I had cable service and my router was working. While I was on the phone, a cable company guy was in my back yard, ripping wires out of my cable box outside. He growled at me when I asked questions. I stuck my head back inside.

I believe at some point he caused a surge that damaged my computer, but I can't prove it. The cable guy who came out the next day diagnosed me with a fried ethernet card and router. I told him my router was still working when he got there. He said it wasn't.

He did some of the same things I did, then called tech support. (So who was HE?) Tech support told him I had a fried ethernet card, and he agreed. I didn't. He said it happened from our electric company, that they caused a power surge. I bit my tongue.

Both he and I got the same message when we tried to put in the cable disk in my computer to get service back on - it said my ethernet cable wasn't connected. It certainly was! That is why they decided it was the ethernet card.

My computer was 2.5 years old, the keyboard was shot (I had to work hard to get a J, I, or K), and they told me I needed an ethernet card. Not happy, I went shopping.

I packed up my 37-day old router and asked the store if they would give me a new one in exchange, even though their policy is 30 days. I said I would buy a new computer if they did. I walked out with a new router and a new computer, still not happy to have to buy one now. I wanted to go another year, if possible.

I came home, set up the new laptop, and then went to set up the modem and router. Guess what the message was when I tried to hook up to the modem? I know those cables were hooked up, once again! Same message. I turned everything off, left the room, and read a book for a while, then went to bed. It was late.

Day three, I got up and called the cable company. I was loaded for bear but trying my best to be polite, since the tech on the phone didn't blow up my computer or give me a misdiagnosis. Her job was to help me. She was all happy and cheerful and positive, so I let her live. She got me online by resetting my modem. It took her 2 seconds.I thanked her kindly.

This is a long story, isn't it? I got the router going after a few rocky spots and took my wireless laptop to the sofa, put up the recliner for my feet, and got to work.

Luckily I had left my pictures on my media card, otherwise my vacation pictures would be gone. As it is, all I lost of them was my favorite bug picture that I had edited. None of my other pictures are edited yet. So, without another 4000 words, here are a few of my favorites from the Desert Museum. I will also try to pick up the travelogue where I left off, maybe tomorrow.

If anyone still has a copy of that bug picture, please send me a copy back? I would like to post it :-)

 

Yes, that is a tarantula. Cute, yes? He was not in a display for tarantulas. He was hanging out in the rocks with the birds.

 

 

 

 

Desert Museum

I still can't get to my pictures, but I can move on to the next day of my trip. Almost every morning Late and I went for a walk for a few miles. I don't use sun block for that walk. We went fairly early every day and were gone usually about an hour. I would get a little brown from it, and I like a little color now and then. Late used a lot of sun block on herself, which always makes me smile. I am a very pale white red head; Late is a woman of color. We walked around the subdivision their house is in. It has great planning, including five miles of walkways through it. There are little play areas for the children. This trip, I hung from the monkey bars every morning I could to stretch and strengthen my shoulders. I worked up to 30 seconds or so - it doesn't seem like much time, until you are depending on two gimpy shoulders to hold all your weight. Try it.

This would be Tuesday's trip - we headed for the Desert Museum after our walk. Late and I have been there before, but her son (DS)  and husband (DH) have not. This is a family that travels often and far. They go every place. They are rarely home. They often are gone 12 hours at a time, I discovered. I went with them.

The Desert Museum is in or near Tucson. It has many plants, animals, insects, birds, and other desert things to see, touch, and marvel about. Last time we thought we had seen most of it, but this time we saw many things we had missed. It was well in the low 100s for the temperature, and there was humidity. We were there all day, on our feet, moving and walking and trying to see it all. DH is an adventurer, and he must see what is behind every rock and down every road.

I figured seeing that rattler slithering across the wash would be unbeatable. However, sitting on a rock inside a bird enclosure was an unexpected and hairy tarantula. We don't have those where I live - I wanted to pet it, but figured that wasn't prudent. I took pictures, instead. Cute little bugger.

Again, we didn't see any coyotes in their part of the desert. The park has a section of the desert discreetly fenced off and there are areas for a few assorted types of wildlife. We weren't at the hottest time of the day when we looked for them, but probably too close to it. I can see coyotes in my own backyard, but I wanted to see them in the desert. We did spot a smelly javalina, snortling along under a little bridge. I have pictures of that, too. Some place.

My friends made me wear a sun hat at the museum. Eventually I put my hair in a ponytail and put the hat over that - it was a little cooler. My hair was soaked with sweat, anyway. Most of the museum is outdoors. I used sun screen that day. The museum thoughtfully has sunscreen dispensers in the bathrooms. I suppose it is less expensive to provide that than to provide medical care to well done tourists, but I used my own. 

Anne asked if I now understand Remo's term of ass gravy. Yes, I can say I do. While a lady might not want to admit such a thing, I was sort of looking forward to returning home eventually and not having to change my drawers 4 times a day in an attempt to be dry. The desert has no water, in my opinion, because everyone drinks it all and then sweats it back out. My hair was not dry the entire trip that I can recall. I don't think I had more than one or two days this trip with the high temp under 100 degrees.

One of my favorite parts at the museum, besides the furry animals such as the wolves, is the hummingbird enclosure. If you sit quietly on a bench, you will see them all over the place. They are so small and move so fast! They were highly active this time - it wasn't even necessary to sit down. They were buzzing faces and scaring the crap out of people by coming up from behind and then buzzing faces. Human hair is a good thing for building nests, plus the rain brings out the little insects we can't see very well, but the hummingbirds can and they snatch them right out of the air.

Eventually we left the museum and headed out for dinner. I had no choice but to keep my hair up in a little pony tail even in the restaurant - it was still wet. 

I wore enclosed shoes for the park, but was very happy to get them off once we got home. Birkenstock sandals are so comfy and have great support - I will have to take my Birk insoles for my tennies next time. Or wear my Birk enclosed shoes.

After the ride in the car back to the house, I was feeling a little stiff and went for a walk with Late and DH.

DS didn't much enjoy being outside in the heat and walking or hiking. He did enjoy it when I cooked breakfast. I still couldn't work up an appetite for eggs and/or meat in the morning, but once or twice I made french toast and ate a piece of that.

The stars were beautiful again. I cannot believe how incredible the sky is there at night. The Tucson area has an observatory up on Kitt Peak, and the area tries to keep down light pollution at night in order to keep the sky beautiful.

That night, I saw a shooting star. Usually, I would stand outside on the driveway in bare feet and stare upward until my neck hurt. Now, I have learned to at least wear sandals when standing outside alone at night, even on the driveway, and I carry my flashlight, too.

Once, I shone it upwards, and saw an incredible amount of little insects and dust. I know I was breathing that combination. Late had caught Valley Fever from that dust earlier this year. I was with her - how did I manage to avoid it? I don't know, but today I finally convinced my doctor to give me a chest X-ray after my bi-annual echocardiogram for my mitral valve prolapse. It's amazing that I didn't "need" an echo every other year for most of my life.

The tech asked me if I have had any episodes of rapid breathing lately. I said yes. She looked up - I have never said that before.

I said, "I assume it was from hiking in the mountains last week." She agreed.

Still, she spent a lot longer on the echo and doppler than anyone else ever did before. WAY longer. She approached my heart from all 4 directions and also did an artery in my throat - whichever one is on the right.

I just realized that some place I have cords for my camera and can probably hook the camera directly to the computer - I will go work on that idea. I think it's hard on the battery, but I can maybe just download the batch and work from there. I hope so - I want to see if I have any good pictures or not.

Wednesday - a busy day 

 

Try to Keep Up

I admit it. I am getting old. I am 57 - don't ask me after next month. I try to stay in shape. Round is a shape, right? Most days I walk several miles with the dogs. Twice a week Late and I get in several miles - usually in addition to my dog walks. I am back at the gym, doing 45 minutes on the elliptical machine and 30 minutes with weight machines. I have shoulder exercises I do at home, some with 5-lb weights. There are some exercises I have been forbidden to ever use more than 5 pounds for, or I will re-damage my shoulder. Since I used to do them with 20 lb weights, that might explain some of my problems.

My walking here is done on pretty level ground. If the earth was reduced to the size a billiard ball, it would actually be smoother than a normal billiard ball. Amazing, isn't it? Hard to believe when confronted with mountain ranges. Astounding, to me. I live at 200 feet above sea level. Where I was staying was a few thousand feet higher than that. When we went into the mountains, we went above 8000 feet. Most days, I was up in a mountain some place or another.

One day I spent at Boyce Thompson Arboretum with Remo and Mombzbe. I don't know what the elevation was there, but I am guessing it wasn't too high. Remo must have been chasing someone to arrest him, because we sure got there very fast. I sat in the back and watched outside from the side windows, when I was able to open my eyes at all. He is a great driver, but like the law or sausage being made, I just didn't want to watch being done.

Remo knows that park. He was a most excellent tour guide, explaining in detail about rocks, rock formations, many plants, trees, insects, etc - he has a lot of desert knowledge. I think he was disappointed that there wasn't an earthquake while we were there. We walked along a nicely-made trail, me in my sandals and them wisely in their tennies. I realized the value of a closed shoe when we stood on a little bridge over a wash and watched a 3-foot rattle snack crossing the wash. They hold their rattles up as they slither, as if they don't want to get them dirty. After that day, I wore closed shoes in parks with abounding nature.

Many people tried to talk me out of going to Arizona in the hot rainy season. I want to experience it all, so I went. I am very happy I did - the desert in bloom is a beautiful thing. The humidity was no big deal to me; I live in a humid climate anyway. Our summers are much like summers in Florida. Hot and wet. Thirty percent humidity might be hard on people who live in the desert, but it's a nice, dry day to us.

It was a real pleasure to see everything so green. I have a definite appreciation now for the desert landscape. Saguaros will never replace shade trees in my mind, but they have their own beauty. I cannot remember the names of most of the trees and cacti that Remo carefully labeled for me, but in time, I might learn one or two.

Remo was very kind to give up a day of sleep to take us. He works nights, so he would have normally been sleeping. We only had to nudge him awake a few times. Mombzbe and I followed him around like puppies, absorbing the lovely overcast, rather cool day and tried to absorb what our personal tour guide was saying. He promised there would not be a test at the end. Whew.

Twice we stopped at drinking fountains. I have to say, I am used to city water and well water tastes nasty to me. The water in the house where I was staying - well, let's just kindly say that I can't even drink it after it has been through a filter. Remo assured me the water would taste good. I am thinking, "And what is he used to drinking?" But, on his assurance, I drank some. Then I drank more. It dripped off my chin, onto my shirt, and I drank more. (My dogs must have taught me that.) It was like drinking bottled spring water. I realize most people seem to think that bottled water is something special, but all it is - is water. There was maybe a slight undertone of clean stone, but somehow it was a good flavor.

Remo pulled a jujube off a tree and gave us pieces to eat. I never even knew there was such a thing - I thought jujubes were candies we used to get in the movies that stuck to our teeth. It tasted like a cross between an apple and jicama, but a tiny drier. It was good! I am not adventurous with things that go into my mouth, but was lucky with both the water and the fruit. It made me brave enough later in the week to try a new candy at See's, and then I had to ask for something else to get that nasty taste out of my mouth. The hazelnut creams at Godiva do not taste like coffee.

I think I kept up ok with the walking. Maybe Remo was going slow for me - if he was, he didn't seem impatient. The park was too beautiful to rush through anyway. It made me wish we had mountains near my home. I think the closest ones are in Kentucky. The border to KY is at least 4 hours by car from here. 

I managed to drive back from where Remo dropped me off at the mall and find my way back to Late's house, about a 90-minute drive. Since about 80 of those minutes were on one freeway, it really wasn't too hard. I thought sure I was driving into a major storm, but it stayed far enough away from me that my car stayed dry. Storms in the distance in the desert are interesting to watch. I had seen one in my rear view mirror half the way up to meet them.

I did not take pictures that day. I got out of my car carrying whatever I was drinking, maybe diet Pepsi? and Remo said I had everything I needed. I reached back for a spare pair of sandals, just in case, and we were off. The camera remained in my car. I did take pictures at other parks, but I have a slight problem.

Camera people, please help me out here. I have a Gateway computer with a helpful little slot for my media card, and it has served me well so far. However, my new media cards are 2.0, and my reader won't read them. It seems my reader cannot handle high capacity hards. I need to update my reader - does anyone know anything about this? I can buy a separate reader, but I already carry enough electronic pieces through the airport that I really would like to just upgrade this one, if I can. So, I have a bunch of pictures and I can't see them yet. Perhaps I should solve the problem by not buying any cards with a capacity higher than 1.0.

When I got home, I found that my two nieces and my daughter ate like little locusts here. I have no food left. No one bothered to run the vacuum, sweep the bathroom floor, or clean up anything. Imagine a bathroom floor with two dogs shedding, 3 females with long hair shedding, and no one sweeping the floor for 10 days. The only things they didn't cook and eat were the raw chicken breast I left in the fridge, along with the pot roast I had cooked before I left. Want to smell my fridge?

I had no idea my carpet and ceramic tiles could look that bad. That left me cleaning all day yesterday, between bouts of having to sit with my feet up because of swelling. That is another story. I had to clean yesterday because I had company early this morning, or I would have just done the minimum.

I don't care what the girls did to my home. My dogs are happy, fatter, and were delighted to see me and sad to see the nieces leave. All good signs. I was worried a little - Molly fought me on her shot this time and I only got probably .7 ml of her .8 ml shot into her. It's a very tiny amount, but it can be a lot to her health. I had to stab the poor girl 4 times as it was, and finally gave up. If she has problems, they will come out after two or three weeks, so I knew I would be home in time.

Meanwhile, my condo is clean, my stuff is unpacked, my laundry is done, and we are all smiling here. I just need some groceries.

 

 

 

Boxing Day

The day finally crept up on me, catching me like a cat cornering a frightened little mouse. Boxing Day. Not the day after Christmas, but our first boxing lesson.

The child picked up the boxing gloves and showed up very impatiently at my dooor just a little late to get us there on time. We piled into my car and hit the road. We made it with all of 5 minutes to spare. She insisted it was my fault because I refuse to drive like a freak, and I had my dogs outside to pee when she showed up. Whatever. She should have shown up 15 minutes earlier, as I had asked.

The place is a regular boxing gym with a ring in it. It's nothing like Kronk, the now defunct, but very well known boxing gym in Detroit. I had been there before -Kronk was impressive. This was in a strip mall.

There is one other female in the class. She tried to hang with us, but most things in martial arts are done in twos, so she had to find another partner. The rest of the class appeared to be young males with a lot of energy, mostly maybe in their 20s.

Boxing is a demanding sport. We had to jump rope (remember how easy that used to be?) do sit ups with punches; lunges, squats, jumping jacks, and a combination of 3 kinds of punches with squats between sets. We did high leg lifts to the sides, and the back - 30 at a time, without setting the foot back on the floor. (That last one was probably the easiest for me.). One exercise reminded me of a frenetic hopscotch.

We also punched, jabbed, hooked, and did upper cuts. Remember I was good with this class because of no sparring? Instead of sparring, you get a partner. One puts on boxing gloves and one puts on paddle-thingies. The one with gloves punches the paddle-thingies that the other one bravely holds up.

Child is a bartender, with resulting stronger arms and shoulders than she has ever had in her life. Her decision to take this class was based on a desire to relieve aggression. I have a bad shoulder and one that was recently operated on. She whacked the paddles I was holding. I gritted my teeth. Once I said, "Don't do that again." She had pushed my left arm back with a solid jab and it hurt. My own fault, really, since I wasn't braced strongly enough. I was getting frustrated - I want to help her develop a good, solid, strong arm, but I want to keep mine from snapping off. Child has a good punch with potential power behind it, but her aim is still a little erratic and her form needs work. She missed my face every time. So far.

I spent many years in martial arts classes before. I even taught judo for a few years. Judo attracts mostly teenage boys, and I had to regularly beat the crap out of them per parental request. I had to pick them up and separate them when they fought amongst themselves. It was fun. I have a semi-decent punch still - I spent time also in several forms of karate and kickboxing. I didn't hold back much on my punches - child was able to absorb them, even though she had never done that before.

It will take time for my right shoulder to really allow me to do what I should be capable of. My left - I don't know. It needs surgery, too. Maybe this class can strengthen it enough so I can avoid surgery.

Our legs were a bit rubbery. Child almost passed out once. We both spent a little time whacking on the heavy bag, and some time just breathing hard and laughing.

Next week I will miss class because I will be in AZ. I am to be allowed to make up a class on a Saturday morning, because that class isn't full yet.

We can't wait to go back. This was one great work out, not boring at all, and a great way to relieve tensions. I even have my own beginning boxing gloves :-)

Did I mention the 30 sit ups with 4 punches into your partners paddles each time we sat up? We did that routine twice. <groan>

Child has real potential as a boxer. One of the guys in charge spent some time with us, helping her with her form. He has a strong Irish accent. We both got a lot of compliments from the instructors. It was good, it was all good.

I have to work on my rope jumping. It's hard to do while keeping my shoulders out of it.

Child was less aggressive as we slowly inched our way back to my car, sweat dripping off our hair, faces red as tomatoes.

Boxing is much more fun that aerobics.How did I miss this sport before?

 

This is six inches

Perception is important. Only a man could create a map where 100 miles equals one inch. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. One man's trash is another man's treasure.

Some people would say, "It's only a dog." Molly and Baby are my treasures.

For years I wanted to home cook for my dogs, but my vet kept talking me out of it. She never really gave me a good reason other than to let the professionals handle getting the correct nutritional balance.

I love my vet, so I trusted her. Sort of. I still fed my dogs some people food with her blessings. Beagles live for smells - how far behind can taste be?

Then we had the pet food scares. People lost their beloved pets as a conequence of poisoned food. I read  the book, "Food Pets Die For."

That did it for me. I copied some recipes out of that book and told my vet that I was not buying any more commercial food. Period. She said, "OK." <sigh>  I feel so strongly about it now that when I get another puppy or dog some day I would prefer it would not be raised on commercial food before I adopt it.

The downside is the actual cooking. Oh sure, it's fun to watch the beagles dance and prance, hoping this batch of food is going to be theirs. Molly doesn't leave the kitchen for the hours it takes me to be done. She gives me the soulful look, the begging eyes, and I laugh at her. I know she isn't starving.

Today I had to cook for the girls in preparation for my upcoming trip. The young man from the condo people was scheduled this morning to fix some minor issues in my new home. He came in, went to work, and I cooked.

Ingredients: chicken, broccoli, brown rice, water, celery, garlic, green beans, carrots, zucchini, and yellow squash. A whole chicken goes in with everything, then the chicken has to be de-boned. I was in the process of separating the chicken bones from the rest of the food when the young man came into the kitchen to work on one of the windows.

He almost crawled up my back. "What is that? What are you making, soup?" His nose was almost in the huge pot.

"Dog food."

"No way! There is dog food in there?" (good thing he is very attractive to make up for any IQ deficiencies)

"It's all dog food. It's just made with all human food."

"Wow, it looks great! Smells wonderful...."

I smiled, and handed him a fork. He hit some chicken and a few of the veggies.

"Your dogs eat better than I do."

"Don't tell your wife that."

Molly smiled. She didn't mind sharing a few bites with the nice man. She knew she was getting the rest of the pot to share with Baby over the next few weeks.

I proceeded to put the food in freezer containers for the dogs. The young man continued to be impressed with the idea of home cooking for dogs. I got the impression he might start barking soon. He has a new perception of dog food.

 

Box? What box?

A little obsession never hurt anyone, right? While I was washing down doors my mind was racing along, trying to visualize a small box that came with my sewing machine. Nothing at all was dredged up from the archives.

When something isn't working - take it apart. So, I went to the machine and looked at it. I looked at the case. There was no place for a hidden box. I had already gone that route, anyway.

I went for the obvious and flipped up the top on the machine. I had already done that once, but not with the same objective. This time, I was looking for hidden little parts.

Sure enough, up there, are 5 feet. They are nestled into the top of the machine, and easy enough to glance over. None are zipper feet, but I think one of them will do the job.

Of course, first I have to learn how to change the feet on this machine. They are nothing like the old ones.

Next hunt: The Manual (or continue to take things apart)

First: Feed the dogs, who worked up an appetite following me around looking for zipper feet!

 

I Lost My Feet

It's hard to be organized when dealing with ADD. I do quite well, as long as I don't try to stick to one task too long. Days like today, I use a timer and toggle among several tasks so that no one particular one gets boring and causes me to wander off completely.

So, I am working on my basic cleaning and also my To Do list. I hate this list, but I keep adding to it anyway. Some of the items are getting ancient, so yesterday I decided to be sure that every day I get the oldest one done, if possible.

Today's simple task is to repair the zipper on a winter jacket. Yes, I do know it's July. I also know that in 3 months I will need this jacket. I hunt all over for my portable sewing machine and set it up. I then hunt for the cord. I haven't used this machine, really. I repaired a niece's backpack on it. That is probably all I ever did, so far. Once I verify that it's working and do a dance to the sewing machine deities that I won't have to adjust any tensions, I look at my job to be done.

Yes, it still looks simple, but I need a zipper foot. No big deal; find the box of feet and change the basic foot to the zipper foot. This is a chore that would take a matter of seconds - if only I had a clue where the feet are.

Usually I can find things first in my head. I try to picture them, and then picture them where they are. I cannot even remember what the box looks like. Maybe it's beige, or maybe that is the box for my old machine.

I start looking in all the usual places for sewing machine feet. So far, no luck. I am still not really settled into my condo. I keep moving things around, trying new arrangements for storage. After my foot search, I can say that I need to do some more rearranging, because I don't like the way things are now.

Maybe the basement? That is pretty much the only place I didn't look yet. Well, I skipped the pantry, but I took everything out of there recently and put it all back, so surely I would remember something unlikely being in there.

The box would be very small, about half the size of a paperback book. I know I have it.

Some place.

Meantime, I will try the feet from my old machine, but they are 30 years apart in age and not the same brand name. Not likely.

I really, really wanted to fix this zipper. I do not want to deal with the old machine, not after what child said when I offered it to her.

"Yes, I want it! No, wait, I don't. Last time I used it, I broke it."

Is it quicker to fix the old one (1971) or find the parts for the new one?

I have to try to keep from being sidetracked by this search and continue to use the timer and clean when it's time to clean and search when it's time to work on the list.

 

Boxing Day

The day after Christmas is Boxing Day in Canada.I know this because I live about 20 minutes from Canada. If necessary, I can run over the border. I can also get some interesting two-dollar coins. Absinthe is legal in most provinces. Canadians are polite and talk funny. I love it there. I have been invited to Montreal this weekend and can't go, since I am going soon to AZ.

This entry really isn't about Canada. It's more related to Boxing Day. No, I am not already planning to hit the sales.

Child decided we are going to take a boxing class. This isn't kickboxing, and it isn't an aerobic class. This is real boxing, with gloves and bags and jumping rope. It's not even a ladies' class.

Child inherited not only my temper (I have that charming natural redhead temper, like it or not), but also her dad's temper. She comes by it honestly. She needs to burn off some energy and she knows it. When she told me she wanted to take the class, I asked, "Are you trying to get in better shape or do you want to hurt someone?"

"Hurt someone."

So, I agreed to go with her. The first class is next Wednesday night. She is going to pick up the gloves and find out what we are supposed to wear.

Since I had shoulder surgery earlier this year, I am not going to be doing any sparring. Just doing the basic punches with weighted gloves is going to hurt. The bag work won't be pleasant for me, but it will get my muscles back in shape. It will be 3 months before sparring is allowed, and I hope the child can find a partner by then.

I am her mother. I would not be able to hurt her. She has no such compunctions, shoulder surgery or not. I spent enough years in martial arts, including kickboxing. I don't think I can revisit the punishment I used to take. I probably trashed my shoulders throwing 200+ lb men over my back when I weighed 90 lbs.

I don't want to have to throw child over my back to keep her from hitting me in the face. Besides, how do you get a good grip on someone while wearing boxing gloves?