My dog squeeze

My man dog is in here with me in one of the freshly laundered white chairs.  Yeah, I know....bad idea if you want the chairs to stay white longer than a few days but he's old, so I let him.  In an attempt to prevent a "hair chair" look, I took off my robe (washable, remember) and put it down first.  He likes his people's smells, it comforts him, and I figured it might just get fur on my robe v the chair.  No wonder I do not work at NASA.  All he did was spend several minutes "digging" and "snooting" (re-arranging with the snoot) my robe until I couldn't stand it any longer, and the robe was essentially in a ball.  So much for the covering the chair idea.  He is now smack dab on the white chair cushion fabric, with my white throw tossed leisurely over him.  Yeah...I did that, too.  And he is happy.  And snugly.  I can tell because when he's really comfy, his breathing slows down, and he sounds like a dog version of Darth Vader.  Frankly, for him, I can't think of a lovelier way to spend the morning.  He was up early, had a little dog breakfast, has been back out, and is now back to dog dream land.

Before he came in here with me, he wanted to go out front so I went with him, carrying my coffee. I'm never really sure what he wants these days as I do not yet speak fluent "Whine", but I am working on it.  So far, I speak enough to get the job done.  Whine is a difficult language to master let me just tell ya.  There are all kinds of subtleties that I just do not get yet.  The dementia whine (nothing specific), the go outside whine (slightly different), the I want what you're eating whine* (I have that one down), and the I don't want my food but I'd sure like yours whine*--* see previous whine description.

Anyway, he is hilarious to watch.  Ever the independent man dog, he has to look and sniff for ages to find the perfect blade of grass on which to tinkle.  And then once he's finally found it, and his mission is accomplished, he has to hang around and bark, and let his 'hood and his homies know he's still here.  He adopts a "don't mess with me" posture that's totally hip and happenin', and then he barks at nothing.  Undoubtedly, that has to be my favorite part : an almost totally deaf, half blind, practically toothless, wobbly back legged, ferocious barking, macho man eater.  Gotta love it.

We're BOTH ready!

As much as I adore him, I have to admit--I'm ready.  I'm ready for my life to get back to normal, whatever that is, and to have my house back to myself during the day.  I've enjoyed having my patient here but it's time to roll him out the door in a wheel chair like they do at the hospital.  Except in his case, we don't need the wheel chair.  I'm ready to hand him his car keys, phone, etc. and shove him out the door.  Ahhhhhh.  Peace and quiet.  No blaring TV's.  No more Bat Masterson re-runs or Hispanic soaps.  No nasal spraying and the ensuing.snarking" that goes on.   Just me and my nest.  .Yahooooo!

An older friend warned me a while back that when her husband retired, she nearly went nuts.  She said she kept waiting every morning for him to leave--goooooo some where---dooooooo something--but he didn't.  Nope.  Just hung around and basically pestered... her... to... death.  She's now gotten used to him, and having him around a lot-- but she warned me, and I now get it.  Whoa.  Change can be tough.  Now she laughs about it and loves having him there.  He gets to wait for the AC man, the carpenter, the sprinkler guy.  Now that I can relate to.  I knew there'd be an up side in there somewhere.

Anywho, many thanks to all who called to check on Fred and brought him "cold stuff".  As I peel off my Nurse Ratchet suit and hang it up, it feels good.  Mannnnnn....he has been one pampered guy, but then he's worth it.  Nasal spray and all.

Ahhhhh.....

O..M...G...   Hide all the spoons.  Bruce's ice cream was his best ever and he knows it.  This is exactly what it looks like and if I could have put a taste button on here, I would have.  This stuff just kills.  So far, I have had a tee-tiny bowl and I can hold off on any more though Mr. Tonsillectomy has now had two, and will no doubt need another one, by the time the fireworks start.
Yum.

Happy 4th

Brian came by last night and asked his Dad if he was making his usual Mexican Chocolate ice cream to celebrate the 4th.  Uh, oh....  Clearly, a "No" was not going to work.  Bruce looked at me and said "Well....I could...." and the rest is history.  After a quick run to Tom Thumb, he was all over it and I knew, basically, to clear out of the kitchen.  He was using all my cooking toys and that was a little more than I could handle, considering how he cooks.  It totally freaks me out so it's just better if I don't know what he's doing, or how he's doing it.  After a quick infomercial on my mixer and new cookware, I hauled, and started reading my book--with my white noise maker on so I couldn't hear him banging around.  

This is his area--he LOVES to make ice cream.  He used to make it in an old, old electric ice cream freezer with the rock salt, the ice, and the NOISE.  It was so loud it sounded like a jet engine, with an ear shattering screech.  He used to wear pink hunting ear plugs while it churned-- in the Utility Room with the door shut.  Not any more.  A few years back, I threw a rod and tossed out his old ice cream freezer/screecher, and told him to find himself a new one.  And he did.  His Cuisinart freezer is purring, as we speak.  Minimal noise, no ice, no salt--no hassle.  Laughing, he just told me he can "set it and forget it".  Keep in mind this man, in his pj's, has not even had breakfast, and he's processing his ice cream.  I'd say he has his priorities in order.

Happy 4th to ALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm outing myself....

I know you all have probably noticed.  I've been slacking off in the world of food.  Barely a word.  Even I'm shocked.  But here's why and it's ugly, so get comfortable.  I finally decided to attempt to lose some tonnage--- so I'm doing Meal Balance.  You order it online and it's delivered right to your door--OK...that's not the ugly part.  The BIG UGLY part is that it's a no sugar, nothing white (except cauliflower), only certain veggies and it's a portion controlled, eating plan.  See....I told you it was bad.   But surprisingly, the food is good and you don't have to cook.  You just grab, nuke, and eat.  I don't even do "throw backs" when I want a different vegetable.  I just eat the damn thing.  And I have been shocked at how good the meats have been.  Either that, or I'm hallucinating.  And breakfast rocks-- all protein.  Add coffee, and I'm good.  No thinking, no food obsessing about what to cook, how to cook it, etc.  And no recipe searches, Food Network visits, nada.  I'm having withdrawals to read a cookbook.  That parts almost as bad a no sugar.  My cookbooks are my little friends.  I miss them.
 The good news is,  it's all done for you and the foods NOT full of crud, fillers, MSG, etc.  And once you get out of ICU, from sugar withdrawals, it's not bad at all.  You have two snacks a day so you are really not all that hungry.  Well, at least not after ICU anyway.  And you walk.  Everyday. Yep.  You heard me right. You get sweaty.  But the best part is, you only weigh yourself every 6 weeks.  Ditto on taking your measurements.  Score!  I can do that.   My initial weigh in, behind steel, locked & bolted doors, was 10 days into the plan, and even then there's not a torture conceivable that would get that number out of me. And the measuring?  Oh, Yeah...like I really wanna know that information. When my clothes bag (some day), that'll be good enough for me so no numbers, please.

And don't think I can't hear ya'll laughing, figuring I'm going to need to be sedated on the 4th, to keep from either cooking or eating, something verboten. My flags and my Martha Stewart bunting are up.  Ten bucks says homemade ice cream is just around the corner.

Irony

I have seen some things lately that I think qualify.  Some made me laugh.  Some not.  For example, the two UPS trucks parked right near burial plots at Sparkman. (burial place right near us on NW Hwy)  All I could think of was either some poor departed soul had ordered something that was really on back order or maybe some folks were still catalog or Internet shopping from"the great beyond."  Either way it made me laugh.  Then there was the guy begging on Lemmon Avenue, near Central, holding up his little "homeless, need $$" sign.  Did I also mention he was smiling and jammin' on his Ipod?  Yeah...you heard me.  His Ipod.   And he probably had an IPhone 4 in his pocket also.   I'm not sure but I don't think a lot of folks were buying his "need $$" bit.  That one made me roll my eyes and laugh.

Which brings me to Smart cars.  They're NOT Smart.  They are a casket on wheels.  Ain't nuthin' SMART about driving something that's gonna ultimately kill you and it's not an "if"--it's a "when".  Yes, it takes a teaspoon of gas to run but so does a lawn mower and you don't drive one of those on Central either.  I think it should be called "The Casket Car"-- drive it and then be buried in it.  Or, "The Card Table car", since you can bet it's gonna fold up on you the second somebody taps it.  Catchy, to the point, it just says what it is.  No beans about it.

And lastly, smarty pants people.  The ones that give you grief when you can't find your glasses, cell phone, shoes, pants, keys, hat, checkbook, etc.  They priss around as you tear apart the house, when they know they can find your stuff in a nano second.  They love to be all holier than thou since "they never lose anything."  And, truth be told, they usually don't --except now they can't find their (her) glasses.  And she's looked.  Everywhere.  Crap.  :)

Slipcovers...OMG

Slipcovers.  I thought they were supposed to make life easy.  When they got dirty you just popped them into the washer and voila'--fresh and clean.  Well, yes...that's the idea IF you can get the damn things off your chairs.  I have two Pottery Barn chairs and an ottoman that are slipped in white duck (cotton) and I love them.  If these chairs could talk, the stories they could tell would gas you.  These were the chairs that Crashman convalesced in, with his ex-fix, post crash, and even post ex-fix.  They are the chairs Bruce, Sis and Wigman are currently napping in--Sis actually owns one of them and just shares hers occasionally.  So you can imagine these chairs have seen quite a bit of action.  Hence the need to wash their slips.

It's just that getting the slips off is a wrestling match worthy of WWF.  I got Bruce to do the first one and he was worn out by the end.  It was like trying to stuff a fat girl in a tight dress or stuff yourself into the jeans you wore in fifth grade.  C'mon.  I'm all for a custom fit but egads.   And did I mention all the interior Velcro that snags and prevents progress at every turn?  I stripped the second chair and let's just say the dogs headed back to their beds in the den due to the language that spewed forth.  But I gotter dun.  Next came the actual washing--or more accurately the pre-soaking.  This pre-soak business is usually not part of my of my repertoire but this time I figured it might be worth it.  So I filled up the washer with warm water, dumped three big old scoops of OxyiClean in there and let it dissolve, and in went the slips to swim around.  The directions on the box for pre-soaking said soak 1-6 hours.  Hmmmm....that was a problem because it was already 8:30 pm , so I googled pre-soaking with Oxy.  Somebody on a message board said they'd left their stuff to soak overnight so that's what I did.  I figured it wasn't like I'd left them overnight to swim in chlorine bleach so off to bed I went. 

I am happy to report that overnighting was an excellent call--they "rook mahvelous".  The second one is about to be re-applied, wrestled, cajoled, and cussed back into place so that means my workout for the day will be done.  And the dogs will head back to the den.