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Musings on anything. |
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My blog was filled up. I'm too lazy to clean it out. So I started a new one. |
| I have run out of propane, so the house is very cold. Usually, the fuel company fills up the tank before I need it. I guess with the holidays, and maybe a short staff, they just are running behind. While I wait, I have a couple of space heaters going to keep the temp from plummeting, I'm wearing a turtleneck and a heavy zippered sweater. I am covered with two afghans while I view this website and my e-mail. I am sure the generations before me endured cold weather better than I do. They tolerated drafty windows, frosted windowpanes, and smoke from fireplaces or wood stoves. They went outside to feed the chickens, tend other animals, fetch the mail, or the water, and go to a chilly outhouse. But I stay inside wrapped up and feeling sorry for myself. I try to drink hot tea, but it gets cold halfway through. I think I'm going to wrap myself with another blanket and watch an old episode of Downton Abbey. |
| Messy Church had its monthly session today. The holiday took a few regulars out of town. So, there were 7 adults supporting and participating with one autistic young woman in a wheelchair. Her mother usually stays with her, but today she brought her in and left. Someone called her when we were done. We cut out stars, folded in half, glued three of them together so that they would stand up, and sprinkled on glitter. The young woman, whose name I will not share here, cut her own with a little guidance. After I was done, I discovered the intent was for us to use paper plates to catch the glitter. Oh, well. We place little disposable battery-operated candles in front of the free-standing glittery stars. All of us took ours home. Then we had a snack and a lesson on light. We all changed to bird food. You take dried bread, punch a small hole in it, and spread a thin layer of peanut butter. You thread a length of yarn through the hole, using your peanut butter knife, and tie it off. Then sprinkle bird seed on the bread. We set them aside to dry up a bit, but carried them home on the plate to keep the seed and peanut butter undisturbed. We sang a song, then had a story book read to us. Someone had to push the wheelchair closer to the book, so that she could see the pictures. It was a Christmas story that featured birds. I thought it was kind of nice that seven adults were there to support and encourage this disabled young woman and let her feel like friends. We were all equals. Often, we have small children who play with toys and puzzles. It's all about fitting in, feeling like this is your space. Noise and movement are welcome. It certainly does not hurt me to spend an hour and a half or so to be nice to someone who has trouble belonging. We are all God's children, regardless of ability. |
| I'm lucky to have had a close family. We were poor when I was growing up, but my parents always made Christmas seem wonderful. It wasn't until we went back to school after Christmas vacation and heard the other kids bragging about all the goodies that they got for Christmas that we began to question why we didn't get as much from Santa. My parents never quit working hard to make the holiday special for their children and grandchildren. We always welcomed others to come and share breakfast or dinner on Christmas Day. We learned to share and to make others happy even on tight budgets. Nobody could cook like my mother (how many people make that claim?), and I still long for her special dishes and fruitcakes. Some memories stand out, however. There was the year my mom didn't get the little sewing machine for me that she wanted. Dad bought it the day after Christmas and sneaked it to the back porch and left without us seeing him. Mom went outside for something and came back in all excited. Santa must have left something out on the porch because we got up too early. She was so happy and excited that we were, too. I still have that machine, but mostly I have the memory of her joy and desire to please me. There was the year my little brother, 12 years younger wrapped a present for me and hung it on the tree. He had legitimate cheap presents for my other brothers. Teasing him I pretended to be anxious about his present. I knocked it off the tree. He shook it and it made noise. He was preschool and made such an act of tears. I had broken his gift to me. On Christmas Day he insisted I open it. It turned out to be a nickel with red paint on it. He was so pleased with himself for fooling me. What an actor; he should have gone into drama when he grew up. I have some not so good memories, mostly with my husband, who had a miserable childhood in comparison. Before him, though, I worked in a grocery store in a busy section of town where poor and upper-class neighborhoods mixed. There was a customer on social security who lived nearby, didn't drive, and frequently came by to buy his ponies, an 8 pack of small beers. He didn't come around for a few days, and we were worried about him. The manager bought a pair of gloves and wrapped them; I made cookies and boxed them up. Our last day we had a potluck lunch and made a big platter for him. Several employees walked over to his house and took the food and gloves. They reported that he choked up and cried. He claimed no one had ever done anything like that for him. That stands out in my mind as a successful Christmas. Maybe giving is better than receiving. We all have a collection of memories, good and bad, that linger and form our feelings about Christmas. |
| Well almost. We still have to un-decorate. And there's the lesson in carols on Sunday. For some there's returning or exchanging of gifts. I think my family has evolved past that stage. We no longer buy clothes or jewelry. Aside from toys or electronics, we try to be practical. I gave gift cards to the teenagers on my list. It's time for quiet and reflection, and some serious cleaning. Some people quickly put the decorations away. Some drag it out. I know a couple of women who leave the tree up all year long; they put away all the other things. Some even leave the outdoor lights up, just unplugged. I have to put mine away, since the hedges will be pruned and the lights cut up. the days will start to get a wee bit longer, maybe a little colder. We get more snow and ice in January and February. So I am prepared to keep my old bones off the ice and read more. I'm catching up on Downton Abbey on Peacock. (It's just another soap opera, but with British accents and a touch of history.) Eventually, the dieting from all the Christmas cookies will begin. |
| I go to church with a woman who is homeless. We have done everything we can for her. We have learned not to give her cash. She is extremely intelligent and had a great memory of world history, etc., but can't handle a budget or her personal affairs. Individuals have given her clothes, food, grocery gift cards. We have sent her to shelters which all fail to meet her standards. She has lived in her car for two years now. We give her blankets and coats. Finally, we convinced her to try the winter shelter provided by local churches. That gives them breakfast and dinner. At least there she can lie down prone with her feet up, so they don't swell. She'll be warm. I hope she will follow the rules and continue there. For Christmas, she has no family or close connections. Today my brother's car caught fire. He didn't drive it yesterday, but this morning flames came out from under the hood. He used up two fire extinguishers before the fire department got there. The fire got into the interior. Christmas presents were in the back and got sooty. I am sure he, his wife, and 13-year-old are not particularly joyful today. I may or may not see them tomorrow (they live an hour away). I myself am alone. The house was not decorated as usual. I have had shingles. They should be gone by now and they are fading. Apparently, they have escalated into postherpetic neuralgia because of my advanced age. I no longer feel like my waist and lower back are on fire, but I feel like I have an ice pack wrapped around my side. Sometimes it sends a painful twinge making me jump a little with the shock. I guess I'm better off than I was last Christmas when I thought I was dying (different story). We're misled by advertisers who would have us believe we can have a joyful, sparkly Christmas if we served all our guests Roche chocolates and toast each other with them. With some beautiful casseroles and a perfect turkey, we can have meaningful, warm family and friend relationships. Peace, happiness and smiles all around can be ours if we just spend our money in the right places and use the right bank. Then there's reality. We have diseases, accidents, broken hearts, broken homes, loneliness, homelessness, and even hunger. We don't experience Christmas through parties, meals, presents or decorations. We experience it when we realize that mankind has been saved and shown what love is. We experience Christmas when we share, when we help someone in need. Maybe a handshake or a kind word is what we really need to give. |
| This year I'm doing our traditional cookie decorating a little differently. The kids are growing up and always have sports or other duties, so they are limited in time. Their mom has remarried and doesn't need me to babysit, so we have less time together. I not only made the dough in advance, I rolled them out and cut out Christmas shapes and baked them. Usually the kids cut their own. This way they are all evenly shaped and ready for decorating. They are in the freezer. I have plenty of sprinkles and will make some royal icing before they arrive. They will have a step brother and sister with them, so that's more to help decorate. They will be coming after school, so this is an evening project rather than a Saturday morning project. They will keep their cookies, not share with others as we started out doing. Last year, I discovered they didn't want to share. They wanted to keep their creations. So, I'll settle for the abbreviated creative process. It will feel like Christmas, sprinkling sparkles on trees, snowflakes, and bells, etc. I will clean up after they are gone, but we will all feel the air of Christmas. I might even get them to sing a chorus or two, probably not. I might even fix spaghetti for a Christmas meal, if they don't convince their mother they need pizza on the way home. |
| Back when food stamps were paper, I worked in a grocery store in a so-so part of town. The alcoholics shopped there regularly, if you call buying cheap liquor shopping. They would come in the morning, buy an onion or a cucumber but not both. Prices were low then, so frequently it was only a nickel. The lowest denomination of a food stamp was $1. That meant giving back real change. They'd go to another store about 8 blocks away, downhill and up again, and do the same thing. They might beg or pick up trash somewhere for small change. In the afternoon, the same man would be back in with enough coins to buy his bottle of Boone's Farm or whatever. It was quite a system they worked out. Food stamps enabled their drinking addiction. Then along comes EBT. Not to mention prices had gone up on everything. You can't get an onion or cucumber for a nickel anymore, so there would not be as much change. I think they really ate the cucumbers, so they were getting a minute bit of nutrition. But with EBT, there is no change. It just reduces the month's balance. The plan definitely did not deceive store workers who could not police the use of the stamps. EBT put an end to that deceptive game. Now it may be worse in other ways. The homeless population has increased and includes women. They tend to congregate. Whereas the alcoholic men from decades ago would rake leaves or do other menial one=time jobs to make a few bucks, they just join the others and lay about in public places. They beg a lot. It amazes me how many men and women refuse free shelter because of rules or curfews. As for EBT, it is no longer up to a cashier to simply take the paper food stamp instead of cash, the computer analyzes what had been purchased. A ready made sandwich is not acceptable. Hot chicken or grocery salad bar are not payable. They are restaurant type items, and the law says they not covered by SNAP. Thus, the homeless person with no means of refrigerating or cooking cannot have a hot meal or a quick dinner. It's an ongoing problem. You hate to see fraud, laziness, or lack of self-pride, but you still want those people to be safe from extreme temperatures and to get at least passable nutrition. We do the best we can. |
| Go to your doctor as soon as you notice a problem. Warning signs that are easy to excuse or overlook are body aches, like you're getting the flu, or you exercised a muscle too much. There's usually no fever or nausea. It may start with a small red dot or big red blisters. The doctor will prescribe something for the actual virus, but the rest may depend on your situation/health and the doctor's reluctance to prescribe drugs, even creams. When you go to pick up the prescription, look for lidocaine. It may be prescribed in greater strength. The store brand my be pure lidocaine and it comes in sprays or creams. You don't want the patch version to place on blisters. Other big brand names include some lidocaine but will have other things. My doctor simply told me lotion or anti-itch creams were acceptable. But the pain is too much for an anti-itch cream. I needed something to numb the skin, and you will, too. The medicine is for 10 days. The doctor said the sores would scab up and pop off. Wrong. They get more painful with time. The nervous system just goes wacky. A slight wave of the t-shirt fabric sends shooting pain in all directions and lasts a long time. Pressing your hand hard against it hurts but doesn't send a shock through your hold body. Lying down or sitting against a padded chair a long time aren't as bad as having your clothes brushing against you. You will not be contagious, so you are safe to mingle if you are able. Don't go around newborns or small children who have not been vaccinated for chickenpox. My neighbor, a doctor, said as long as the blisters are covered, you cannot pass the virus. The blisters are usually only on one side of the body at a time. They form a band. Mine are right at the waist, so every bend, reach, twist pulls at them. The first time I had them, over 30 years ago, they were on my chest and rib cage. I had a friend who had them in her hair, which fell out; it grew back over the following year. If you have not been vaccinated, do so as soon as your insurance allows. I've been vaccinated twice. The first time was the old method, one shot which only lasts about a decade. The second one was supposed to be permanent-a two-part series of a breakthrough medicine. Dada! My doctor told me now the vaccine doesn't guarantee prevention. It just lessens the possibility. I have been stuck in a chair, moving as little as possible, sometimes screaming out in pain. Today after a second dose of Tylenol, I went to the store and bout Lidocaine. I am guessing I'm on the uphill climb anyway, but I am sprayed enough to feel itching setting in. Itching is a less intense kind of pain, so I guess the spray is working. |
| With no children of my own, I place a lot of importance on my great nieces and nephews. I've tried to make memorable moments by baking and decorating cookies. Or going places with them, or special games. On Thanksgiving Day, the ten-year-old didn't feel well and was lounging on the couch next to my niece. She told me he had told her that one Thanksgiving, he spent the night before at my house, then on Thanksgiving Day, he got up and helped me cook the turkey. I know he was using that story to be able to help his stepfather deep fry the turkey this year. He has always liked to cook; so did his late father. I can't remember the incident. It was nothing planned or elaborate. He usually got up early when he stayed, which has only happened once since he got a stepfather. He was probably 5 or 6 at the time. I can't imagine that he was a lot of help. He probably watched everything. I would have prepped the turkey the day before and have it in the refrigerator. I may have called him in to peak under the foil to check for brownness or something like that. But to him, it was a big deal and he remembered it. We try so hard with the big moments, but it's the little things they remember. Parents spend a lot of time with their kids, grandparents maybe a little less. Great aunts and uncles don't get many opportunities. I had great aunts who were very dear to me and have big places in my memories. Maybe small gestures are all they need to remember you. |
| For the second time, I have shingles. The first time was about 30 years ago. I've had the old vaccine. I've had the new 2-part vaccine more recently. I am probably going to be housebound for Thanksgiving because being bounced around in a vehicle hurts. You don't realize know how bumpy the paved roads and parking lots are until you've had an injury or a disease. The blisters are all sizes in all stages, red and painful. A few are itchy. It will take about 10 days to heal with the medicine I'm on. Sometimes you just wonder, How did I get to be so lucky? |
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