I went to a yoga class on Thursday night and again on Saturday morning. It was the perfect class for me, it was small. There were 6 of us each time. I knew all but two of the ladies. (Since I'm still a "foreigner" in Bucklin, knowing this many ladies was comforting!) And, we were all "older", the youngest is in her late 30's. None of us are without tummy rolls either, which is comforting too!
I had a nice time, enjoyed the work out. And had these reflections:
1. I'm more flexible than I thought I was.
2. My balance isn't what it should be!
3. I do more yoga poses when I stretch than I ever knew I did!
4. I know some folks who won't do Yoga because it's a false religion. So, I enjoyed the irony as we worked out to Christian music.
5. It all felt really good and I didn't think I worked that hard until I got home and realized that i was tired!
Showing posts with label Me being Me.... Show all posts
Showing posts with label Me being Me.... Show all posts
Monday, July 20, 2015
Monday, April 27, 2015
reflections down memory lane
It's been a long time since I've blogged. Mr. Blue is fine, he's growing and is a handful! But he's a sweetie. I say he's a smart dog. Kevin says he's not very smart but what does he know!
I'm kind of in a reflective mood today...on Saturday, My Mom, myself, and my Aunt Sandy (Mom's sister) went on a trip down memory lane. More their memories than mine, but it was fun. I drove them down to their Grandparent's homestead. It's on the Oklahoma border, on the Oklahoma side. It's now owned by someone outside of the family, but they were kind enough to let us go and explore. My Great Grandfather settled the place in 1912ish. (I add the ish because I'm not sure of the exact year they bought the place. And I think all 12 of their children were born there...probably 10 of the 12 were now that I think about it...) But I still think they moved there in '12 because my Great Aunt Leatha wanted to hang on to the place so she could be a century landowner. She was the last person in the family to own the place. I just wish she'd put some money into it and had taken better care of it...but that's another story for another day.
Mom spent quite a bit of time at her Grandad's place. The youngest Aunts were 7-10 years older than Mom, and she had 5 older cousins who were there often to play with. Of course, by the time Sandy came along (10 years after Mom), there were more cousins for her to play with (all boys). So really, both girls have lots and lots of memories. I have a few...a very few. By the time I came along (I'm 10 years younger than Sandy is,) the family had spread out and didn't come home for holidays. Grandad lived there still with Aunt Florence and she was raising 2 of her grandchildren by then. Mike and Oleta were my age, so I remember going down and playing with them a bit. So my memories are very limited compared to Mom's and Sandy's. But, we walked through the house and they remembered where Grandad's chair sat, where the piano sat, how little the house was for 14 people! Grandad had built a small "house" right outside the kitchen for the boys to sleep in. It's called "The Boys house." It was built on top of the cellar. But they also had a basement under two rooms of the house. I know when Grandpa was a boy, all the kids slept some in the basement, until they built the Boys house. Then the girls got two bedrooms inside the house. Grandad and Grandma slept in a screened in, unheated porch. My Grandma said when she first started going there, they still had a dirt floor in their bedroom... (this would have been 1939-1940.)
The doorway to the cellar is starting to fall in now. In fact, we were careful about going down due to the falling in brick and because of the 6' snake who wanted to stay outside sunning, but kept going into either the brick or down into the cellar because we scared him. (hey, he made us nervous too!)
We also walked back to the garden areas. Grandad had built 4 or more dams that he used to irrigate his garden and orchard. I'm guessing 10 acres of garden and orchard. Both Mom and Sandy remembered the gardens and the fruit trees.
It was fun for me to listen to them talk about their memories and adventures.
After lunch at Mom's house, we then drove out to where my Grandparents lived...where Mom and Sandy grew up. Grandpa leased it, but they lived there for 20 years before moving in to town. Their own house was small...4 rooms. Let me repeat. FOUR rooms. A kitchen, the "north" bedroom, Grandma and Grandpa's bedroom and the living room. Notice the missing bathroom. Mom and Sandy spent a great many years of their childhood without indoor plumbing. In fact, Mom shared that w hen they moved into this house, they didn't have running water. Grandpa ran water to the house, but it wasn't until after Sandy was born that they had Hot water. And the water went to the kitchen only. (Remember, no bathroom.)
The girls talked about how much stuff grandma had in the kitchen. Her Hoosier, kitchen cabinets, stove, washing machine, sink and table. It's not a 10 x 10 room... Then the girls laughed about every time Grandma added something to the kitchen, something got put in their bedroom (the North bedroom). Like the Refrigerator, later the freezer, the cream separator, etc. (In my memories, the North bedroom had those items, but was also where Grandma kept her ceramic supplies.)
I can remember having Mom, Sandy and Grandma taking me out to the Outhouse as a little girl. But when I was 3 or 4, Grandma and Grandpa finally got a bathroom--by moving in a trailer house and using the bathroom there. (In those days, you only needed a cess pit.) And, you know, the kitchen drained through a long pipe outside the house that drained somewhere out in the trees. (Steve and I used to sit on that pipe, or do flips around it...but only until Grandma came out and yelled at us to get off it!)
The Chicken house has fallen in...the brooder house was still there. And we walked out to the barn. I don't have many memories of playing in the barn. But Mom and Sandy did of course. My only memory of playing in the barn was when Steve and I were playing in the fleeces of wool--and getting in trouble for it. The barn is falling down now, but it really was a cool design! I'm going to take Kevin out. He'll get a kick out of how it's set up.
We ended our day by finding the trash pit and digging around in it some. Found some glass jars and other treasures that were partially covered by years of dirt and weeds, but we found it!
I really enjoyed our trip down memory lane and laughing and wondering how our memories meshed and differed. There are 20 years between the 3 of us...and it was funny what we remembered differently. For example, we each remembered Grandma's garden in different locations! And we are all correct because they did move the garden over the years. But Mom and Sandy argued about if the Windmill was there the entire time. Mom says yes, I said yes, but Sandy said no. There is one there now, but it's a newer "model".
My reflectiveness revolves around those who could answer all our questions. Those who aren't here. I'd love to ask my Great Grandfather about building those damns. I would ask if they went dry during the 30's. I'd ask about why they built a separate building for the boys bedroom instead of just adding on. Heck, I'd ask WHY they built the house down in the hole instead up above where it was more accessible during bad weather! I've got a million questions for my grandparents. It's funny...I asked millions of questions. That's my job in the family, to ask questions! But now I have a million more and they aren't here to answer them. I miss them...
I'm kind of in a reflective mood today...on Saturday, My Mom, myself, and my Aunt Sandy (Mom's sister) went on a trip down memory lane. More their memories than mine, but it was fun. I drove them down to their Grandparent's homestead. It's on the Oklahoma border, on the Oklahoma side. It's now owned by someone outside of the family, but they were kind enough to let us go and explore. My Great Grandfather settled the place in 1912ish. (I add the ish because I'm not sure of the exact year they bought the place. And I think all 12 of their children were born there...probably 10 of the 12 were now that I think about it...) But I still think they moved there in '12 because my Great Aunt Leatha wanted to hang on to the place so she could be a century landowner. She was the last person in the family to own the place. I just wish she'd put some money into it and had taken better care of it...but that's another story for another day.
Mom spent quite a bit of time at her Grandad's place. The youngest Aunts were 7-10 years older than Mom, and she had 5 older cousins who were there often to play with. Of course, by the time Sandy came along (10 years after Mom), there were more cousins for her to play with (all boys). So really, both girls have lots and lots of memories. I have a few...a very few. By the time I came along (I'm 10 years younger than Sandy is,) the family had spread out and didn't come home for holidays. Grandad lived there still with Aunt Florence and she was raising 2 of her grandchildren by then. Mike and Oleta were my age, so I remember going down and playing with them a bit. So my memories are very limited compared to Mom's and Sandy's. But, we walked through the house and they remembered where Grandad's chair sat, where the piano sat, how little the house was for 14 people! Grandad had built a small "house" right outside the kitchen for the boys to sleep in. It's called "The Boys house." It was built on top of the cellar. But they also had a basement under two rooms of the house. I know when Grandpa was a boy, all the kids slept some in the basement, until they built the Boys house. Then the girls got two bedrooms inside the house. Grandad and Grandma slept in a screened in, unheated porch. My Grandma said when she first started going there, they still had a dirt floor in their bedroom... (this would have been 1939-1940.)
The doorway to the cellar is starting to fall in now. In fact, we were careful about going down due to the falling in brick and because of the 6' snake who wanted to stay outside sunning, but kept going into either the brick or down into the cellar because we scared him. (hey, he made us nervous too!)
We also walked back to the garden areas. Grandad had built 4 or more dams that he used to irrigate his garden and orchard. I'm guessing 10 acres of garden and orchard. Both Mom and Sandy remembered the gardens and the fruit trees.
It was fun for me to listen to them talk about their memories and adventures.
After lunch at Mom's house, we then drove out to where my Grandparents lived...where Mom and Sandy grew up. Grandpa leased it, but they lived there for 20 years before moving in to town. Their own house was small...4 rooms. Let me repeat. FOUR rooms. A kitchen, the "north" bedroom, Grandma and Grandpa's bedroom and the living room. Notice the missing bathroom. Mom and Sandy spent a great many years of their childhood without indoor plumbing. In fact, Mom shared that w hen they moved into this house, they didn't have running water. Grandpa ran water to the house, but it wasn't until after Sandy was born that they had Hot water. And the water went to the kitchen only. (Remember, no bathroom.)
The girls talked about how much stuff grandma had in the kitchen. Her Hoosier, kitchen cabinets, stove, washing machine, sink and table. It's not a 10 x 10 room... Then the girls laughed about every time Grandma added something to the kitchen, something got put in their bedroom (the North bedroom). Like the Refrigerator, later the freezer, the cream separator, etc. (In my memories, the North bedroom had those items, but was also where Grandma kept her ceramic supplies.)
I can remember having Mom, Sandy and Grandma taking me out to the Outhouse as a little girl. But when I was 3 or 4, Grandma and Grandpa finally got a bathroom--by moving in a trailer house and using the bathroom there. (In those days, you only needed a cess pit.) And, you know, the kitchen drained through a long pipe outside the house that drained somewhere out in the trees. (Steve and I used to sit on that pipe, or do flips around it...but only until Grandma came out and yelled at us to get off it!)
The Chicken house has fallen in...the brooder house was still there. And we walked out to the barn. I don't have many memories of playing in the barn. But Mom and Sandy did of course. My only memory of playing in the barn was when Steve and I were playing in the fleeces of wool--and getting in trouble for it. The barn is falling down now, but it really was a cool design! I'm going to take Kevin out. He'll get a kick out of how it's set up.
We ended our day by finding the trash pit and digging around in it some. Found some glass jars and other treasures that were partially covered by years of dirt and weeds, but we found it!
I really enjoyed our trip down memory lane and laughing and wondering how our memories meshed and differed. There are 20 years between the 3 of us...and it was funny what we remembered differently. For example, we each remembered Grandma's garden in different locations! And we are all correct because they did move the garden over the years. But Mom and Sandy argued about if the Windmill was there the entire time. Mom says yes, I said yes, but Sandy said no. There is one there now, but it's a newer "model".
My reflectiveness revolves around those who could answer all our questions. Those who aren't here. I'd love to ask my Great Grandfather about building those damns. I would ask if they went dry during the 30's. I'd ask about why they built a separate building for the boys bedroom instead of just adding on. Heck, I'd ask WHY they built the house down in the hole instead up above where it was more accessible during bad weather! I've got a million questions for my grandparents. It's funny...I asked millions of questions. That's my job in the family, to ask questions! But now I have a million more and they aren't here to answer them. I miss them...
Monday, March 10, 2014
It's time for something to go right. Isn't it?
Our basement is a mess. Carpet is gone, laminate is gone. Miss Kat is sleeping in Andy's old bedroom. She's also taken over the newly remodeled bathroom. (And she broke off one of the new towel rods.) She has stuff upstairs, downstairs, and in the garage.
The garage is so full of her stuff that I couldn't get to the recycling yesterday. I can get to the freezers, but can't get to much else.
Kev and I went carpet/flooring shopping in Wichita Saturday. It's rather overwhelming when you don't know what you want, and you don't really know what you want to spend. We'd discussed our options. We decided to go back with carpet. We tossed around the idea of carpet tiles, but we wanted more information about them before committing. We've tossed around radiant heat with tile or wood. But we just didn't really feel strongly one way or another about anything.
On the drive, we were enjoying music on the radio, when we noticed the display going bonkers. (Bonkers IS an adjective!) It started flashing, the display kept blinking, going dark, becoming normal, going bonkers again. We were almost to Wichita when it went OFF. Just blacked out. Then we smelled hot plastic. Wei figured it had shorted out and all was well. Who really needs the display of the clock and the radio station?
Then we attempted to turn it off. Nothing.
I attempted to turn it down. Nothing.
I tried to change the station. Nothing.
We had no control of the radio. We finally pulled the fuse just to turn the darn thing off.
At this point, I was fed up. Frustrated. We paid off the loan for this car one month ago. I was ready to go buy a new one.
But, logic prevailed, and we continued with our flooring shopping. We took a break for lunch and our friends, Kim and Bob called. They were headed to Wichita as well, so we hooked up with them and spent the rest of the day running around. We even went to supper. If they hadn't come down, I'd have probably bought a new vehicle. Not because I want to, but because I just want something to go right!
Yesterday, Kev went out to start our Diesel pickup.
It wouldn't start.
He fiddled with this and that. Nothing.
He changed the fuel filter. Nothing.
I tell ya, after all the water issues, along with trouble we've been having with our home internet, and now TWO vehicles acting up...I've just about had it!
Maybe we should have gone car shopping!
After the events of the last two weeks, I'm ready for a break. It's time for something to go right!
The garage is so full of her stuff that I couldn't get to the recycling yesterday. I can get to the freezers, but can't get to much else.
Kev and I went carpet/flooring shopping in Wichita Saturday. It's rather overwhelming when you don't know what you want, and you don't really know what you want to spend. We'd discussed our options. We decided to go back with carpet. We tossed around the idea of carpet tiles, but we wanted more information about them before committing. We've tossed around radiant heat with tile or wood. But we just didn't really feel strongly one way or another about anything.
On the drive, we were enjoying music on the radio, when we noticed the display going bonkers. (Bonkers IS an adjective!) It started flashing, the display kept blinking, going dark, becoming normal, going bonkers again. We were almost to Wichita when it went OFF. Just blacked out. Then we smelled hot plastic. Wei figured it had shorted out and all was well. Who really needs the display of the clock and the radio station?
Then we attempted to turn it off. Nothing.
I attempted to turn it down. Nothing.
I tried to change the station. Nothing.
We had no control of the radio. We finally pulled the fuse just to turn the darn thing off.
At this point, I was fed up. Frustrated. We paid off the loan for this car one month ago. I was ready to go buy a new one.
But, logic prevailed, and we continued with our flooring shopping. We took a break for lunch and our friends, Kim and Bob called. They were headed to Wichita as well, so we hooked up with them and spent the rest of the day running around. We even went to supper. If they hadn't come down, I'd have probably bought a new vehicle. Not because I want to, but because I just want something to go right!
Yesterday, Kev went out to start our Diesel pickup.
It wouldn't start.
He fiddled with this and that. Nothing.
He changed the fuel filter. Nothing.
I tell ya, after all the water issues, along with trouble we've been having with our home internet, and now TWO vehicles acting up...I've just about had it!
Maybe we should have gone car shopping!
After the events of the last two weeks, I'm ready for a break. It's time for something to go right!
Friday, May 31, 2013
Cool Canning labels & BBQ sauce
A couple of years ago, we found a recipe for homemade BBQ sauce. We made it one weekend, loved it, and since then, I've made all our BBQ sauce. Sometimes, I even add finely chopped jalepenos to spice it up. (Kev's favorite.) We have a very good friend who always makes his sauce every time he grills or barbecues. While I love his sauce, it's never the same twice, and I like the convenience of having a jar of it in the pantry when I need it.
So, one day last week, I canned up a batch of sauce. I made 6 pints and a "short" pint which I put in one of my Weck jars. (It's the tall juice jar in the back.)
Recently, while I was browsing on the web, I found some shrink-wrap canning labels. From Modern Harvest, they make 4 designs and I couldn't decide which one I liked the most. Fortunately they have a "sampler" pack.
Now that I didn't have to try to pick out a design, I placed an order for labels for pint jars, quart jars and 1/2 pint jars (or jelly jars.) Very reasonably priced. (Each package of 36 labels is $6.99.)
I liked the premise that these were shrink wrap labels, I liked the large writing area and I liked the back side which lets you mark the month and year you canned the item. Since I hate writing on lids, and hate the little Ball labels that were never big enough, didn't fit nicely on the jars, and were a pain to scrub off empty jars, this seemed to be a perfect answer for me.
I'm actually now looking forward to canning season so I can play with my labels! I'm also eyeballing that multi-pack of Sharpie pens so I can get really creative and colorful with my labels.
Friday, September 14, 2012
Potato Soup
Sometimes, I wonder about myself...
Last night, while driving home, I asked Kev how Potato Soup sounded for supper. We had a cold front come through, and the temperature was 59 when we pulled into town. It just felt like a nice, crisp, fall day, perfect for warm Tater soup. So, we stopped at the Market because I needed some cream. Kev likes a rich Potato Soup, and I didn't have any cream.
We got home, and I started peeling potatoes (because I didn't have any canned potatoes) and started cooking the soup. I decided to cook the potatoes in chicken broth, for some extra flavor. So, I went to the pantry to get a jar of chicken broth I'd canned last winter. Unfortunately, I saw only a quart jar of broth. I didn't want to use that much, so I kept looking for a pint jar. Not finding one, I looked in the other pantry for a store bought can of broth. No luck. So, I grabbed the quart jar and dumped it in with the potatoes and carrots and started them boiling.
As they cooked, I'd test the potatoes to see if they were cooked by pulling one out and taking a bite off it. "Hum, I thought, this potato tastes a little sweet." But, I let them continue cooking as I prepared the bacon bits and got the cheese sandwiches ready to grill. When I tasted them again, they were still a little sweet tasting, and I decided it was the carrot, that, you know, maybe our home-grown carrots were just sweet enough to make everything taste sweet to me. I then dumped in the cream and went to do some cleaning up while the soup finished up.
That's when I grabbed the jar to put it in the sink. I picked it up, sniffed it, and thought, "Now, that doesn't smell like chicken broth." I tasted the sediment in the bottom of the jar and suddenly remembered the jar of Rhubarb Juice I'd made in May. That lonely quart jar of juice...
Crap! That's what I used. Not Chicken Broth, but Rhubarb Juice! I'd cooked my soup in Juice!
So, I carried my beautiful looking soup over to the sink, got out a strainer, and dumped it all in the strainer. I gave the potatoes a quick rinse, and put them back in the rinsed pot and back on the stove. I added milk (no more cream) and added some butter and the bacon bits. Then I had Kevin come eat.
It was edible. Still sweet, but edible. Sort of.
Kev did a better job of eating his soup than I did. It just simply didn't taste right!
I felt so stupid! I was mad at myself for wasting a cup of cream and for wasting my juice and for not checking anyway the contents of my jar before pouring it into the pot. How long have I been cooking? Apparently, not long enough.
So, this weekend, I hope to can more broth, or at least buy some so next time, I don't act like a bonehead in the kitchen and create a disaster.
Last night, while driving home, I asked Kev how Potato Soup sounded for supper. We had a cold front come through, and the temperature was 59 when we pulled into town. It just felt like a nice, crisp, fall day, perfect for warm Tater soup. So, we stopped at the Market because I needed some cream. Kev likes a rich Potato Soup, and I didn't have any cream.
We got home, and I started peeling potatoes (because I didn't have any canned potatoes) and started cooking the soup. I decided to cook the potatoes in chicken broth, for some extra flavor. So, I went to the pantry to get a jar of chicken broth I'd canned last winter. Unfortunately, I saw only a quart jar of broth. I didn't want to use that much, so I kept looking for a pint jar. Not finding one, I looked in the other pantry for a store bought can of broth. No luck. So, I grabbed the quart jar and dumped it in with the potatoes and carrots and started them boiling.
As they cooked, I'd test the potatoes to see if they were cooked by pulling one out and taking a bite off it. "Hum, I thought, this potato tastes a little sweet." But, I let them continue cooking as I prepared the bacon bits and got the cheese sandwiches ready to grill. When I tasted them again, they were still a little sweet tasting, and I decided it was the carrot, that, you know, maybe our home-grown carrots were just sweet enough to make everything taste sweet to me. I then dumped in the cream and went to do some cleaning up while the soup finished up.
That's when I grabbed the jar to put it in the sink. I picked it up, sniffed it, and thought, "Now, that doesn't smell like chicken broth." I tasted the sediment in the bottom of the jar and suddenly remembered the jar of Rhubarb Juice I'd made in May. That lonely quart jar of juice...
Crap! That's what I used. Not Chicken Broth, but Rhubarb Juice! I'd cooked my soup in Juice!
So, I carried my beautiful looking soup over to the sink, got out a strainer, and dumped it all in the strainer. I gave the potatoes a quick rinse, and put them back in the rinsed pot and back on the stove. I added milk (no more cream) and added some butter and the bacon bits. Then I had Kevin come eat.
It was edible. Still sweet, but edible. Sort of.
Kev did a better job of eating his soup than I did. It just simply didn't taste right!
I felt so stupid! I was mad at myself for wasting a cup of cream and for wasting my juice and for not checking anyway the contents of my jar before pouring it into the pot. How long have I been cooking? Apparently, not long enough.
So, this weekend, I hope to can more broth, or at least buy some so next time, I don't act like a bonehead in the kitchen and create a disaster.
Friday, June 15, 2012
backing up trailers
My Dad always believed that a "woman's place was in the home." Don't worry about the logic of that statement, since his wife did a "man's" job at the elevator. His belief applied to me since I was his daughter and he made the rules.
Because of this, I didn't go work cattle or help with any of the outdoor chores. Dad didn't even want me to see him pull calves or repair prolapsed uterus's or castrate cattle. It just wasn't "seemly" for me to see such things. It caused several arguments between he and I during my teen years. I hated his old fashioned views and believed that I could do anything I wanted to do. Granted, I didn't really want to work as hard as Dad and my brother Steve did. I disliked someone telling me I couldn't do something.
I still tend to be that way. If you want me to do something, just tell me I can't do it. Cause, I can guarantee that I will do it, just to prove you wrong! Because of these "old-fashioned" beliefs, I never learned how to back up a trailer. I never needed to. Dad or Steve pulled the trailer. I was just a passenger. I never really even wondered how one backed up a trailer. I assumed it was no different than backing up a car, except you had something behind you that you had to watch out for.
Then I started dating Kevin. Who had a boat. That we took to the lake. Where Kev asked me to back the trailer into the lake so we could load the boat. He assumed that being a country girl, I knew how to back a trailer. I certainly didn't tell him anything differently. Heck, how hard could it be?
So, I got out of the boat, went and got the Bronco, and attempted to back the trailer. My first problem was there were lots of guys standing around near the boat ramp watching me. My second problem was that stupid trailer just wasn't going where I thought it should go! I had no idea how to get it down that ramp. I'd try to back it up--straight back--and it would move from one side to the other. I'd pull forward, get it straight, and try again, and it would move to the other side. I couldn't figure out which way to turn that wheel. I'd turn it to the left, thinking the trailer would go to the left, but it would go to the right. So I'd turn the wheel the other way, but it still wouldn't go where I wanted it to go--straight down that ramp! All those guys were watching me and I knew they were laughing at me because I couldn't back up that darn trailer. I finally got mad, and embarrassed and turned the bronco off, got out, marched down to the edge of the boat dock and told my boyfriend that he'd just have to do it himself.
He laughed at me, then tried to placate me by calling me "darlin'" and went up and backed up that trailer, slick as you please. He made it look so easy. Which didn't help my mood any. I informed him that I would never back a trailer, and to never ask me to do so again.
He didn't, for many years; until the kids joined 4-H and had livestock.
Because Kev's job required him to drive 150 miles a day, getting the livestock to the fair, and to the weigh-ins, became my responsibility. Kev always backed the trailer up to the gate for me, and I'd get the critters loaded up and would pull the trailer to town. If I had to back it up anywhere, I would con my friend, Kim, into backing the trailer for me. She knew how to back the trailer, and didn't make fun of me for not knowing how to do it. This worked well until one day Kev said that it was time I learned how to back the trailer.
Ugg. I hate having him teach me something because he'd get frustrated with me, I'd get frustrated with him, and we'd both wind up mad. But he made me do it. I got so I could back up the trailer if I had lots and lots of room because I'd have to pull forward and back up several times before I manged to get it where I needed the trailer to be. Kev would be supportive, but would also laugh at me because I always got flustered and usually mad.
These past 2 weeks, Miss Kat and I have been going to the Hill and have been loading the barn tin on the trailer to haul to the salvage yard. Kev told me that I'd have to be careful because I might have to back the trailer. I assured him that I'd manage to do it without backing that trailer.
I was wrong. The first day, I needed to back that darn trailer. Since it was just Miss Kat and I, there was no one else to do it. It took me a very long time, and several passes, but I finally got that darned trailer backed up and turned where we needed it. We went down two days ago for another load and I backed it where we needed it. This time, I didn't have to pull forward nearly as often. And today, we went again. Today, I only had to pull forward once, and that was at the salvage yard. Yes, I not only backed up the trailer, I did it in front of men who are not related to me. And they didn't laugh and I didn't get flustered, and I got it in one shot!
I call that success.
I still haven't backed the trailer up in front of Kev, and I imagine when I do, I'll be nervous and will mess up simply because of his presence. Now that I can back the trailer, I can't imagine there's not anything I can't do! I am woman,hear me roar...watch me back up the trailer!
Because of this, I didn't go work cattle or help with any of the outdoor chores. Dad didn't even want me to see him pull calves or repair prolapsed uterus's or castrate cattle. It just wasn't "seemly" for me to see such things. It caused several arguments between he and I during my teen years. I hated his old fashioned views and believed that I could do anything I wanted to do. Granted, I didn't really want to work as hard as Dad and my brother Steve did. I disliked someone telling me I couldn't do something.
I still tend to be that way. If you want me to do something, just tell me I can't do it. Cause, I can guarantee that I will do it, just to prove you wrong! Because of these "old-fashioned" beliefs, I never learned how to back up a trailer. I never needed to. Dad or Steve pulled the trailer. I was just a passenger. I never really even wondered how one backed up a trailer. I assumed it was no different than backing up a car, except you had something behind you that you had to watch out for.
Then I started dating Kevin. Who had a boat. That we took to the lake. Where Kev asked me to back the trailer into the lake so we could load the boat. He assumed that being a country girl, I knew how to back a trailer. I certainly didn't tell him anything differently. Heck, how hard could it be?
So, I got out of the boat, went and got the Bronco, and attempted to back the trailer. My first problem was there were lots of guys standing around near the boat ramp watching me. My second problem was that stupid trailer just wasn't going where I thought it should go! I had no idea how to get it down that ramp. I'd try to back it up--straight back--and it would move from one side to the other. I'd pull forward, get it straight, and try again, and it would move to the other side. I couldn't figure out which way to turn that wheel. I'd turn it to the left, thinking the trailer would go to the left, but it would go to the right. So I'd turn the wheel the other way, but it still wouldn't go where I wanted it to go--straight down that ramp! All those guys were watching me and I knew they were laughing at me because I couldn't back up that darn trailer. I finally got mad, and embarrassed and turned the bronco off, got out, marched down to the edge of the boat dock and told my boyfriend that he'd just have to do it himself.
He laughed at me, then tried to placate me by calling me "darlin'" and went up and backed up that trailer, slick as you please. He made it look so easy. Which didn't help my mood any. I informed him that I would never back a trailer, and to never ask me to do so again.
He didn't, for many years; until the kids joined 4-H and had livestock.
Because Kev's job required him to drive 150 miles a day, getting the livestock to the fair, and to the weigh-ins, became my responsibility. Kev always backed the trailer up to the gate for me, and I'd get the critters loaded up and would pull the trailer to town. If I had to back it up anywhere, I would con my friend, Kim, into backing the trailer for me. She knew how to back the trailer, and didn't make fun of me for not knowing how to do it. This worked well until one day Kev said that it was time I learned how to back the trailer.
Ugg. I hate having him teach me something because he'd get frustrated with me, I'd get frustrated with him, and we'd both wind up mad. But he made me do it. I got so I could back up the trailer if I had lots and lots of room because I'd have to pull forward and back up several times before I manged to get it where I needed the trailer to be. Kev would be supportive, but would also laugh at me because I always got flustered and usually mad.
These past 2 weeks, Miss Kat and I have been going to the Hill and have been loading the barn tin on the trailer to haul to the salvage yard. Kev told me that I'd have to be careful because I might have to back the trailer. I assured him that I'd manage to do it without backing that trailer.
I was wrong. The first day, I needed to back that darn trailer. Since it was just Miss Kat and I, there was no one else to do it. It took me a very long time, and several passes, but I finally got that darned trailer backed up and turned where we needed it. We went down two days ago for another load and I backed it where we needed it. This time, I didn't have to pull forward nearly as often. And today, we went again. Today, I only had to pull forward once, and that was at the salvage yard. Yes, I not only backed up the trailer, I did it in front of men who are not related to me. And they didn't laugh and I didn't get flustered, and I got it in one shot!
I call that success.
I still haven't backed the trailer up in front of Kev, and I imagine when I do, I'll be nervous and will mess up simply because of his presence. Now that I can back the trailer, I can't imagine there's not anything I can't do! I am woman,
Friday, May 18, 2012
reflections
I went to a funeral yesterday in Colby. It meant that I had to leave by 7:15 in order to get there on time. I did, but I was almost late. I'm one of those people who likes to be a little early, and NEVER late. My arrival was later than I wanted it to be yesterday. In fact, I was the last person seated before the family entered the church.
As I was rushing to get into the church, I saw the family gathered outside, waiting for their entrance. The Pallbearers were just starting to remove the casket of their grandfather from the hearse. Standing off to the side, near the larger group of family, stood the new widow. She looked so somber and deep in thought as she watched her grandson's start their work. I can only imagine where her mind was at that moment. In my mind, her standing there alone represented how she felt. Her husband of 55 years was gone leaving her surrounded by a large family and yet still very much alone. It was a poignant moment and I so wanted to stop and hug her before rushing into the church. But, I didn't, because I also saw that she needed that brief moment to herself.
The gentleman who died was the father of one of my friends, Sharon. Denny, her father, was quite a character. I met him shortly after meeting Sharon, as all the men in the family were avid bowlers. In fact, that's where Sharon introduced me to her parents, the Bowling Alley. Fritz, Sharon's mom, always tagged along and watched the men bowl while visiting with various other family and friends. They were some of the most welcoming people I had met. I've admired them for raising 9 good children and for adopting many of the people their kids drug home. I was fortunate to be one of those drug in.
Denny's funeral was the first time I'd seen the Knights of Columbus present, and it was the first time I've witnessed military honors. This one was special, because the honor guard was made entirely of family members. They were a credit to their father, grandfather and uncle.
But what threw me was when Sharon introduced me to one of her nephews, (or aunt, or cousin) as her "best friend." Now, I admit that we're close and are very much like sisters, but I'm not used to hearing someone refer to me as a "Best friend." I felt honored and humbled, because I don't think of myself very good friend. Maybe it was just the label that struck me, but it did throw me.
My brother once told me that I was blessed with the best of friends. And I am. WE are--Kev and I. I know that I'm blessed by my friends, to to consider that maybe they feel blessed to have me as a friend is...almost inconceivable! I was just doing what needed to be done. I knew she'd need me. Yes, she was surrounded by family and friends, but I knew that I needed to be there for her, so I was. It was nothing special, and isn't it what any friend would do?
I went to this funeral to honor a special man and his special daughter and yet upon leaving I felt like I had been honored. Honored to be a part of the celebration of this man's life and honored to be called a "best friend."
As I was rushing to get into the church, I saw the family gathered outside, waiting for their entrance. The Pallbearers were just starting to remove the casket of their grandfather from the hearse. Standing off to the side, near the larger group of family, stood the new widow. She looked so somber and deep in thought as she watched her grandson's start their work. I can only imagine where her mind was at that moment. In my mind, her standing there alone represented how she felt. Her husband of 55 years was gone leaving her surrounded by a large family and yet still very much alone. It was a poignant moment and I so wanted to stop and hug her before rushing into the church. But, I didn't, because I also saw that she needed that brief moment to herself.
The gentleman who died was the father of one of my friends, Sharon. Denny, her father, was quite a character. I met him shortly after meeting Sharon, as all the men in the family were avid bowlers. In fact, that's where Sharon introduced me to her parents, the Bowling Alley. Fritz, Sharon's mom, always tagged along and watched the men bowl while visiting with various other family and friends. They were some of the most welcoming people I had met. I've admired them for raising 9 good children and for adopting many of the people their kids drug home. I was fortunate to be one of those drug in.
Denny's funeral was the first time I'd seen the Knights of Columbus present, and it was the first time I've witnessed military honors. This one was special, because the honor guard was made entirely of family members. They were a credit to their father, grandfather and uncle.
But what threw me was when Sharon introduced me to one of her nephews, (or aunt, or cousin) as her "best friend." Now, I admit that we're close and are very much like sisters, but I'm not used to hearing someone refer to me as a "Best friend." I felt honored and humbled, because I don't think of myself very good friend. Maybe it was just the label that struck me, but it did throw me.
My brother once told me that I was blessed with the best of friends. And I am. WE are--Kev and I. I know that I'm blessed by my friends, to to consider that maybe they feel blessed to have me as a friend is...almost inconceivable! I was just doing what needed to be done. I knew she'd need me. Yes, she was surrounded by family and friends, but I knew that I needed to be there for her, so I was. It was nothing special, and isn't it what any friend would do?
I went to this funeral to honor a special man and his special daughter and yet upon leaving I felt like I had been honored. Honored to be a part of the celebration of this man's life and honored to be called a "best friend."
Monday, November 21, 2011
Always a bridesmaid
So...I'm going to be in another wedding.
You'd think that at my age, all of my friends were done with the wedding thing, but that's not so. One of my friends, of over 20 years is getting married--again. It's her second marriage, but the groom's first. And, since she didn't have a wedding the first time around, they've decided to go for it. And she asked me to be one of the bridesmaids. Or matron. Whatever.
Saturday, we met in Salina at the David's Bridal Store to find dresses. And everyone who reads here knows how much I like to shop. And you all probably know how much I detest dresses. Yep, I was NOT looking forward to this...not at all. And, the bride knew it and let me pout and pretty much ignored me and made me do it. Basically she reminded me it's all about her and not about me.
She knows me pretty well.
But you know what?
It wasn't that bad.
Granted she made me try on 786 dresses. (and I even shaved my legs.)
But it still wasn't that bad.
It was my first time ever actually trying on dresses for a wedding. In all the ump-teen weddings I've been in, I've never had any input in what I was wearing. I was just called and asked, "what size of dress do you wear?"
And I didn't have a "real" wedding dress when Kev and I got married. My dress came from a department store. I saw it in the window, went in, tried it on and bought it probably 2 years before Kevin ever proposed.
So I never tried on wedding dresses.
The bride did try on a dress--she'd been in before and had narrowed down her choices to two. The first dress she put on was the one she bought. We all agreed it was the right dress, and shared a few tears too.
So...all in all, I'm glad that I'm a bridesmaid...again...at my age. Cause otherwise, I would have never gotten to experience this custom.
Miss Kat was with us. She soaked it all in. And...somehow, I think that someday, I'll find myself in a bridal shop, trying on dresses and watching a different bride and I'll probably cry on that day too.
You'd think that at my age, all of my friends were done with the wedding thing, but that's not so. One of my friends, of over 20 years is getting married--again. It's her second marriage, but the groom's first. And, since she didn't have a wedding the first time around, they've decided to go for it. And she asked me to be one of the bridesmaids. Or matron. Whatever.
Saturday, we met in Salina at the David's Bridal Store to find dresses. And everyone who reads here knows how much I like to shop. And you all probably know how much I detest dresses. Yep, I was NOT looking forward to this...not at all. And, the bride knew it and let me pout and pretty much ignored me and made me do it. Basically she reminded me it's all about her and not about me.
She knows me pretty well.
But you know what?
It wasn't that bad.
Granted she made me try on 786 dresses. (and I even shaved my legs.)
But it still wasn't that bad.
It was my first time ever actually trying on dresses for a wedding. In all the ump-teen weddings I've been in, I've never had any input in what I was wearing. I was just called and asked, "what size of dress do you wear?"
And I didn't have a "real" wedding dress when Kev and I got married. My dress came from a department store. I saw it in the window, went in, tried it on and bought it probably 2 years before Kevin ever proposed.
So I never tried on wedding dresses.
The bride did try on a dress--she'd been in before and had narrowed down her choices to two. The first dress she put on was the one she bought. We all agreed it was the right dress, and shared a few tears too.
So...all in all, I'm glad that I'm a bridesmaid...again...at my age. Cause otherwise, I would have never gotten to experience this custom.
Miss Kat was with us. She soaked it all in. And...somehow, I think that someday, I'll find myself in a bridal shop, trying on dresses and watching a different bride and I'll probably cry on that day too.
Friday, January 07, 2011
5 weeks
Today is my last week day at home. Monday, I go back to work; five weeks and four days after my surgery. Am I eager or ready to go back to work? No...not really. I enjoy being at home and can find plenty to keep me busy. But, while I was recuperating, i managed to:
read these seven books (plus one I'm still reading.) I watched 4 movies and several TV shows we had taped. Let me just say that daytime television is a huge disappointment.
I finished embroidering these tea towels. (I'd finished two before the surgery.)
I started and finished Baby Kate's sampler. Now I just need to get it in the mail for her.
I started this candlewicking project. I'm probably 1/2 way finished with it, and hope to finish it before the weekend is over.
read these seven books (plus one I'm still reading.) I watched 4 movies and several TV shows we had taped. Let me just say that daytime television is a huge disappointment. 
I finished embroidering these tea towels. (I'd finished two before the surgery.)
I started and finished Baby Kate's sampler. Now I just need to get it in the mail for her.
I started this candlewicking project. I'm probably 1/2 way finished with it, and hope to finish it before the weekend is over.I also stitched a little cross-stitch project of a cat standing on a stack of books for my office. (Don't know why I didn't get a picture of it.) Other work I accomplished was to can five quarts of salsa, two batches of Sandhill Plum Jelly and I made eight loaves of bread.
I assisted with butchering 50 chickens too. Well, I sat at the table, and wrapped the birds in freezer paper.
Can you just imagine what I'd accomplish in 5 weeks at home if I wasn't recuperating from surgery?
Monday, December 13, 2010
surgery update
Look at me, on the computer! I asked Miss Kat to bring it up today as I actually felt like checking in online--briefly. It IS almost nap time...
Surgery went well--as far as I know. I was in for two hours rather than one as expected, but I keep forgetting to ask the Dr why it took longer. I won't see him again until the 30th, so maybe I'll remember then, or maybe by then, it won't matter. Ok...it will, I am a curious person and like answers, so maybe I'll know what all happened.
I can say with all confidence that once I woke up, I hurt. I hurt a lot. I hurt more than I thought I would and I hurt more than I probably ever had. I can also say with confidence that when they ask you to rate your pain level from one to 10...that's a stupid thing to ask--too subjective. Because I refused to say "10" and didn't even want to say "8 or 9" both are wimpy. So I only rated my pain as a 7. Looking back...it was probably a 9. The morphine pump did not get me through the pain for 24 hours. I lived in 15 minute intervals--which was how often I could get another hit. Once we switched to pain pills, I did much better. I did ask my son to shoot me, but he and Mom and Kev were all fairly patient with grouchy me.
I was rather annoyed with my husband, who would check my pump every time he came in the room to see how many times I'd hit it. He'd then announce my number to me and Mom..."O look, your at 17...25...40..." Pissed me off actually. But, in hindsight, I now can see that it was his way of seeing how much pain I was in. I was interpreting it as a "how much of a wimp is my wife being?" (And I did not tell him he was annoying me.)
In actuality, he was a sweetheart. He opted to work in the hospital that day so he'd be close by and could check in on me frequently He stayed late and helped me get in and out of bed and help me get comfortable. Once I was up and walking, he'd walk with me--just like he does his regular hospital patients--except he didn't charge me for the therapy, and he give me kisses. (In fact, one nurse, who didn't know I was his wife, asked him if he kissed all his patients!) He would refill my ice cup whenever I needed more ice too. I didn't have to wait on a nurse, ,which was nice. Since it was his weekend to work, he was there with me Saturday and Sunday too.
I had been told that I'd probably go home Saturday, but I couldn't go home till Sunday because my bowels weren't making and passing gas. SOOOOOOO annoying...who knew farting was so important? But, until then, no food or drink, other than the ice chips. Which was fine, my appetite didn't come back until...Tuesday? Wednesday? One of those days.
I got my staples out this past Thursday. Feels so much better now. I can lay down flat, when before, with the staples, I couldn't. They just pulled and laying down was uncomfortable. My new goal is to sleep on my side again. And for my stomach to not be numb from the belly button down. And to take a bath. I can take a bath this coming weekend. Believe you me...I'm taking a bath!
I did have a couple of issues that came up...1. I am allergic to the tape they used, I had nice blisters and some scabbing under the tape that held the bandage on. And, 2. apparently, I had an allergic reaction to the antibiotic, because on Thursday night, once I got home from seeing the Dr, we found I had hives all over my back.
I knew it had been itching like crazy, but attributed that to me laying/reclining so much or dry skin. When I finally caved and asked Kev to put lotion on my back, we found the hives. No wonder I itched! I will have to remember to mention that to the Dr next time I see him. I need to know what exactly he used.
But, I'm on the mend. I'm starting to feel like ME again and I'm getting frustrated with my restrictions, so I'm doing fine. Just don't make me laugh, cough, or sneeze. Those are NOT fun. It's amusing for Kev--watching me suppress sneezes or coughs. But, that's my job, amusing Kev.
I've started doing some cooking again and I help Miss Kat with the dishes, but I'm being good and am not painting the hallway, or cleaning the toilets or scrubbing the tub or vacuuming...but, I am getting tired of TV and my books. I've picked up a little stitching project, but can't seem to work on it very long before I'm restless. I've got 4 more weeks of restrictions. I'm going to try to be good, but it's not going to be easy.
Thanks for the thoughts and prayers everyone. I'll be back soon!
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
2 week deadline
In two weeks I'm having a complete hysterectomy. Which will end the issues you've read about a couple of times here. But, the progesterone the Dr. prescribed isn't necessarily helping--it's just masking the issue. I expected him to want to try this and that and something else, but he caught me off guard when he said "hysterectomy."
Now, since the diagnosis, I've been doing a lot of research and knew that this was an option--this and an endometrial ablation--but I kept expecting that I'd just snap back to normal after the D&C. I can't express how I felt when the bleeding started again--after 14 days of no bleeding. So, I called, and went back in, and here we are...
Now I chose to bypass the ablation (which is basically where they burn and scar the endometrial lining which means it can't build up and thus, no blood) because I do have a family history of uterine cancer. If I'd do the ablation, and if I ever developed uterine cancer, we'd not know it until it was in a very late stage. Not good. So, the Dr said my best option is the hysterectomy.
I'm done with my uterus...no more babies from us. And I'm not adverse to having it removed. But I figured we'd do a vaginal hysterectomy. But NO...I have to have an abdominal one because of the size and shape and tilt of the darn uterus, the Dr's afraid my other organs might prolapse. So I'm guessing there's a chance they might anchor stuff...he said he just wants room to actually see what's where and you can't do that vaginally. Which means I'm gonna have a longer recovery.
Have I ever mentioned that I'm not a very good sick person? I dislike being in the hospital, where your every word is recorded and the nurses don't always understand my sarcasm. (note to self: Keep thy mouth shut at all times when any medical personnel are in the room.) I also greatly dislike someone telling me what I can and can't do. I greatly dislike having to abide by someone else's rules. I also dislike people hovering around me and I have to remember to not tell anyone to "Go away and leave me the hell alone." Cause I'm going to want to say that...a lot.
So...all this leaves me with a slight problem...
I have two weeks to get all my Christmas shopping finished.
I have the little kid's shopping done...and that's it. Nothing for Miss Kat, or Andy, or Kev, or my folks, or Kev's folks. Nothing. Kev and I decided that we'd just do something nice for each other. I want my "Mom's Cooking" framed with barn wood. I've asked him to do that. He wants me to get the cushion sewn for the bay window. And we decided to buy a new dishwasher. The one we had quit pumping water in August and the 14 year old dishwasher is mouthy...I want a quiet one. So, I'm going to go look for a dishwasher over my lunch hour.
But the rest of my shopping...no clue.
I guess I'd better get myself in gear and finish shopping and get ready for surgery too. It's gonna be a wild 2 weeks...
Now, since the diagnosis, I've been doing a lot of research and knew that this was an option--this and an endometrial ablation--but I kept expecting that I'd just snap back to normal after the D&C. I can't express how I felt when the bleeding started again--after 14 days of no bleeding. So, I called, and went back in, and here we are...
Now I chose to bypass the ablation (which is basically where they burn and scar the endometrial lining which means it can't build up and thus, no blood) because I do have a family history of uterine cancer. If I'd do the ablation, and if I ever developed uterine cancer, we'd not know it until it was in a very late stage. Not good. So, the Dr said my best option is the hysterectomy.
I'm done with my uterus...no more babies from us. And I'm not adverse to having it removed. But I figured we'd do a vaginal hysterectomy. But NO...I have to have an abdominal one because of the size and shape and tilt of the darn uterus, the Dr's afraid my other organs might prolapse. So I'm guessing there's a chance they might anchor stuff...he said he just wants room to actually see what's where and you can't do that vaginally. Which means I'm gonna have a longer recovery.
Have I ever mentioned that I'm not a very good sick person? I dislike being in the hospital, where your every word is recorded and the nurses don't always understand my sarcasm. (note to self: Keep thy mouth shut at all times when any medical personnel are in the room.) I also greatly dislike someone telling me what I can and can't do. I greatly dislike having to abide by someone else's rules. I also dislike people hovering around me and I have to remember to not tell anyone to "Go away and leave me the hell alone." Cause I'm going to want to say that...a lot.
So...all this leaves me with a slight problem...
I have two weeks to get all my Christmas shopping finished.
I have the little kid's shopping done...and that's it. Nothing for Miss Kat, or Andy, or Kev, or my folks, or Kev's folks. Nothing. Kev and I decided that we'd just do something nice for each other. I want my "Mom's Cooking" framed with barn wood. I've asked him to do that. He wants me to get the cushion sewn for the bay window. And we decided to buy a new dishwasher. The one we had quit pumping water in August and the 14 year old dishwasher is mouthy...I want a quiet one. So, I'm going to go look for a dishwasher over my lunch hour.
But the rest of my shopping...no clue.
I guess I'd better get myself in gear and finish shopping and get ready for surgery too. It's gonna be a wild 2 weeks...
Friday, November 05, 2010
Traveling Conq
There's a 10 year old tradition at DCCC; the traveling Conq trophy. It's given to someone who's gone "above and beyond" and to someone who deserves a little recognition for a job well done.
I received the Traveling Conq last week. Here it is:
It's grown over the years. I'm told that it started out as one trophy. Now, it's 4 trophies tall and is covered with a memento from everyone who's received it. I received it from the Maintenance crew who wanted to acknowledge my hard work and all the changes I've made in the library making it a "warm and homey" place for students to enjoy. It means just a little something special coming from the guys who've hauled out ump-teen loads of crap that I've eliminated from the building. They are special guys--almost as special as the maintenance staff at Colby.
I still haven't figured out who to pass this on to. It has to be someone in another building. I've got a couple of ideas, but haven't decided who deserves this award. I do know what' I'm adding to the trophy:
This is an online comic, Unshelved by Gene Ambaum and Bill Barnes. This strip was published February 6, 2005. Somehow, it fits my library... (just click on the image so you can enjoy the strip.)
I received the Traveling Conq last week. Here it is:
It's grown over the years. I'm told that it started out as one trophy. Now, it's 4 trophies tall and is covered with a memento from everyone who's received it. I received it from the Maintenance crew who wanted to acknowledge my hard work and all the changes I've made in the library making it a "warm and homey" place for students to enjoy. It means just a little something special coming from the guys who've hauled out ump-teen loads of crap that I've eliminated from the building. They are special guys--almost as special as the maintenance staff at Colby.
I'm very honored to have received the Traveling Conq. Can you believe it's the first "formal" recognition I've ever received in over 20 years as a professional? Colby CC never recognized anything that anyone did.
I still haven't figured out who to pass this on to. It has to be someone in another building. I've got a couple of ideas, but haven't decided who deserves this award. I do know what' I'm adding to the trophy:
This is an online comic, Unshelved by Gene Ambaum and Bill Barnes. This strip was published February 6, 2005. Somehow, it fits my library... (just click on the image so you can enjoy the strip.)Friday, October 08, 2010
Normal...well, not really
All my test results came back normal. YEAH!
Now we're concentrating on getting my iron levels back to normal.
And the Dr gave me some progesterone pills to keep me from having a period for 3 months. He doesn't wanting me losing that much blood--or any blood--for that amount of time. We'll see what happens from there.
My Ob-Gyn is a Chinese Dr. His English is pretty good, but not perfect. He did tell me "Your uterus not normal."
And then he went on to draw me a picture. On the outside, my uterus is normal--pear shaped. But on the inside, it's heart shaped. Which is NOT normal. It's not bicournal (sp?), or split in 2 with each side being horn like; but it's not quite normal.
I didn't ask, because it doesn't matter any more, but...some women with this condition can't carry babies. So, I won't dwell on what might have been, and just be thankful for the two healthy kids I do have.
The Dr does think this abnormality might have played a role in my "Dysfunctional Uterine Bleeding". But hormones did play a big part.
Will it happen again? He won't give any predictions on that. I hope not...we got the preliminary hospital bill...whoo boy. It's higher than what it was to have a baby 14 years ago. But, remember, I'm not complaining...
Let's all hope that this is the last post about this. Cause I really want to focus on something else for a change...
By the way, did I mention that I had 2 moles removed from my neck? And that one was basal cell carcinoma? Have to admit, I was a little surprised, but on the other hand...not really. I have fair skin...I'm as white as white can get. I grew up in the 70's when our goal was to smear our bodies with baby oil and get brown...except I never got brown. Basal cell tends to be pretty common in my family...which means I wasn't adopted, and I'm not the mailman's kid. (So Dad, this pretty much means I'm yours!)
Have a great weekend everyone. I am as normal as I'm ever going to be and we will return this blog to the mundane, to the chickens...or to Miss Kat, or maybe even hunting...stay tuned!
Now we're concentrating on getting my iron levels back to normal.
And the Dr gave me some progesterone pills to keep me from having a period for 3 months. He doesn't wanting me losing that much blood--or any blood--for that amount of time. We'll see what happens from there.
My Ob-Gyn is a Chinese Dr. His English is pretty good, but not perfect. He did tell me "Your uterus not normal."
And then he went on to draw me a picture. On the outside, my uterus is normal--pear shaped. But on the inside, it's heart shaped. Which is NOT normal. It's not bicournal (sp?), or split in 2 with each side being horn like; but it's not quite normal.
I didn't ask, because it doesn't matter any more, but...some women with this condition can't carry babies. So, I won't dwell on what might have been, and just be thankful for the two healthy kids I do have.
The Dr does think this abnormality might have played a role in my "Dysfunctional Uterine Bleeding". But hormones did play a big part.
Will it happen again? He won't give any predictions on that. I hope not...we got the preliminary hospital bill...whoo boy. It's higher than what it was to have a baby 14 years ago. But, remember, I'm not complaining...
Let's all hope that this is the last post about this. Cause I really want to focus on something else for a change...
By the way, did I mention that I had 2 moles removed from my neck? And that one was basal cell carcinoma? Have to admit, I was a little surprised, but on the other hand...not really. I have fair skin...I'm as white as white can get. I grew up in the 70's when our goal was to smear our bodies with baby oil and get brown...except I never got brown. Basal cell tends to be pretty common in my family...which means I wasn't adopted, and I'm not the mailman's kid. (So Dad, this pretty much means I'm yours!)
Have a great weekend everyone. I am as normal as I'm ever going to be and we will return this blog to the mundane, to the chickens...or to Miss Kat, or maybe even hunting...stay tuned!
Tuesday, October 05, 2010
update
The D&C went very well. I feel better and I think it was necessary. The bleeding has stopped. The before and after bleeding was night and day. Once I got home, I realized just how badly I'd been bleeding. We women are so used to dealing with blood, that I'd just adapted my behavior and coped. I knew it was getting bad, but I didn't realize how bad it was until after the surgery.
The hardest thing for me right now is not taking a bath again until I go back to the Dr this Thursday. I can shower, but I really hate taking showers. Hopefully, on Thursday, I'll have my pathology reports and we'll know where to go from here.
Yesterday, the first bills arrived.
I hate medical bills.
I promised my family that I wouldn't whine or complain or gripe about the medical bills. That this time, I'll just pay them and move on.
It's going to be hard. Cause I have a $3000 deductible and cause what they charge is ridiculous. Why charge $250 for a sonogram if you are just going to write 1/2 of it off? Makes no sense to me.
So, I'm going to try real hard and not gripe...and that last paragraph is NOT griping.
Let's hope that I start getting some energy back and I start stitching again and reading again and having some energy left at the end of the day. I'm taking extra iron, so I hope I get back to "normal" soon!
The hardest thing for me right now is not taking a bath again until I go back to the Dr this Thursday. I can shower, but I really hate taking showers. Hopefully, on Thursday, I'll have my pathology reports and we'll know where to go from here.
Yesterday, the first bills arrived.
I hate medical bills.
I promised my family that I wouldn't whine or complain or gripe about the medical bills. That this time, I'll just pay them and move on.
It's going to be hard. Cause I have a $3000 deductible and cause what they charge is ridiculous. Why charge $250 for a sonogram if you are just going to write 1/2 of it off? Makes no sense to me.
So, I'm going to try real hard and not gripe...and that last paragraph is NOT griping.
Let's hope that I start getting some energy back and I start stitching again and reading again and having some energy left at the end of the day. I'm taking extra iron, so I hope I get back to "normal" soon!
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
This week
Well, I've been poked, prodded, measured, examined, questioned. They've taken my blood and my urine. I've been x-rayed and sonogramed.
Diagnosis: I'm not normal.
I could have told them that...without all the tests and the cost.
So, next step...I'm having a D&C this Thursday.
It had better make this stop, or you all might be reading about my murder trial.
I'm ready. More than ready. At least we're doing something.
But, riddle me this...
I answered the same damn questions for 2 nurses and 3 doctors...all within 2 hours of each other. Why on earth can't the Dr's read what their nurses wrote down? Why ask the same damn questions over and over and over? Next time, I'm gonna say, "Hello! Read what your nurse wrote down..." Sheesh. I expect my students to read and pay attention to questions asked in class, so how come those in the medical profession can't do the same?
I realize that in the world scope of things, that Dodge City is considered a "small town". However, to me...it's a large town, and after all the running from this clinic to that clinic and back to this clinic...I really miss my Clinic and Hospital in Colby.
Bigger facilities really miss out on that personal relationship that you have in small town clinics and hospitals. While I'm not a person who went to the Dr often, I did know my Dr, or my ARPN. Heck, one Dr I saw was a former student of mine (and boy, I had dirt on some of his extra curricular activities...) One of my ARPN's was a former colleague and the other was also a former student. I knew and trusted them. Heck, I knew their kids, parents, and extended families.
Here, the only Dr I know won't see me.
(Cause she's my cousin! Not because I'm a bad patient!)
And, the Dr's I've met...well, I just don't know that much about them, and I really don't have a strong sense of trust.
But, I am going to trust this ob-gyn on Thursday. And, he'd better come through and prove that I can trust a Dr, whom I know nothing about.
I'll keep you posted...
Diagnosis: I'm not normal.
I could have told them that...without all the tests and the cost.
So, next step...I'm having a D&C this Thursday.
It had better make this stop, or you all might be reading about my murder trial.
I'm ready. More than ready. At least we're doing something.
But, riddle me this...
I answered the same damn questions for 2 nurses and 3 doctors...all within 2 hours of each other. Why on earth can't the Dr's read what their nurses wrote down? Why ask the same damn questions over and over and over? Next time, I'm gonna say, "Hello! Read what your nurse wrote down..." Sheesh. I expect my students to read and pay attention to questions asked in class, so how come those in the medical profession can't do the same?
I realize that in the world scope of things, that Dodge City is considered a "small town". However, to me...it's a large town, and after all the running from this clinic to that clinic and back to this clinic...I really miss my Clinic and Hospital in Colby.
Bigger facilities really miss out on that personal relationship that you have in small town clinics and hospitals. While I'm not a person who went to the Dr often, I did know my Dr, or my ARPN. Heck, one Dr I saw was a former student of mine (and boy, I had dirt on some of his extra curricular activities...) One of my ARPN's was a former colleague and the other was also a former student. I knew and trusted them. Heck, I knew their kids, parents, and extended families.
Here, the only Dr I know won't see me.
(Cause she's my cousin! Not because I'm a bad patient!)
And, the Dr's I've met...well, I just don't know that much about them, and I really don't have a strong sense of trust.
But, I am going to trust this ob-gyn on Thursday. And, he'd better come through and prove that I can trust a Dr, whom I know nothing about.
I'll keep you posted...
Friday, September 24, 2010
40 days and counting
Noah's flood lasted 40 days and then it stopped.
My flood hit 40 days today and I'm so beyond ready for it to stop.
And if your a guy, you might want to stop there. Personally, I don't care, but you guys are squeamish...
My period started the first day of college classes, August 18. Today marks 40 days. Yes, I've been to the Dr. Yes, we're doing "tests". No, nothing has worked yet. So far, the test results are all normal.
Yes I'm frustrated, angry and annoyed as hell.
You know, my period has never really bothered me. I don't mind having one, don't mind the mess, don't mind any aspect of it at all--until it hits day 40.
The most frustrating part of this is the unpredictability. Some days, I'm afraid to get far from the bathroom. Some days, I wonder if I'll ever feel clean again. Some days, I think that this will stop...and then it gets worse.
My guess is that my hormone levels are all out of wack...and that this is a part of me entering that next stage of life...but dang it's the most annoying thing ever.
It totally takes over your life...and wardrobe...
I'm tired, I'm anemic and so far, nothing has made this stop...
I now understand why so many women say "Just take the dang thing OUT." I never understood that before.
A big part of me wants to ride this out, to let my own body sort out these hormone levels and let nature run it's course. After all, not much medical research has been done on "women's issues", cause most research is done by men who don't really have to cope with it at all and who can never completely understand what it does to us. Because of that, I sometimes think that modern medicine interferes when it shouldn't. And, you know guys have their own reasons for wanting it to stop...think that has any influence on research???
A BIG part of me wants this to stop...immediately. By any means, just make it stop. Gimme some miracle drug to make this STOP cause I want to resume my life. Hell, take the darn thing OUT. I don't care if it's not a medical necessity...I don't care if the stupid, thieving insurance company won't pay...make this STOP. Cause my life has stopped...
Hunting is on hold...evening activities are on hold...some days, morning workouts are cancelled. Long trips are on hold. Short trips are iffy. I'm usually tired enough in the evenings that I'm not stitching or reading. Right now, my entire focus is on my uterus...and I'd really like to focus on something else.
40 days...
My flood hit 40 days today and I'm so beyond ready for it to stop.
And if your a guy, you might want to stop there. Personally, I don't care, but you guys are squeamish...
My period started the first day of college classes, August 18. Today marks 40 days. Yes, I've been to the Dr. Yes, we're doing "tests". No, nothing has worked yet. So far, the test results are all normal.
Yes I'm frustrated, angry and annoyed as hell.
You know, my period has never really bothered me. I don't mind having one, don't mind the mess, don't mind any aspect of it at all--until it hits day 40.
The most frustrating part of this is the unpredictability. Some days, I'm afraid to get far from the bathroom. Some days, I wonder if I'll ever feel clean again. Some days, I think that this will stop...and then it gets worse.
My guess is that my hormone levels are all out of wack...and that this is a part of me entering that next stage of life...but dang it's the most annoying thing ever.
It totally takes over your life...and wardrobe...
I'm tired, I'm anemic and so far, nothing has made this stop...
I now understand why so many women say "Just take the dang thing OUT." I never understood that before.
A big part of me wants to ride this out, to let my own body sort out these hormone levels and let nature run it's course. After all, not much medical research has been done on "women's issues", cause most research is done by men who don't really have to cope with it at all and who can never completely understand what it does to us. Because of that, I sometimes think that modern medicine interferes when it shouldn't. And, you know guys have their own reasons for wanting it to stop...think that has any influence on research???
A BIG part of me wants this to stop...immediately. By any means, just make it stop. Gimme some miracle drug to make this STOP cause I want to resume my life. Hell, take the darn thing OUT. I don't care if it's not a medical necessity...I don't care if the stupid, thieving insurance company won't pay...make this STOP. Cause my life has stopped...
Hunting is on hold...evening activities are on hold...some days, morning workouts are cancelled. Long trips are on hold. Short trips are iffy. I'm usually tired enough in the evenings that I'm not stitching or reading. Right now, my entire focus is on my uterus...and I'd really like to focus on something else.
40 days...
Thursday, July 08, 2010
25 and then some...things about me
We'll be heading to the Mountains tomorrow, so no blogs next week. (Like I've been good this summer anyway!)
No, I don't have a picture to post of my "Kitchen" cross stitch yet...I asked Miss Kat to take a picture of it last night. She did, but wouldn't upload it for me. And there I was...slaving away over a hot stove making cookies for the trip. Ungrateful wench...
So blame her.
One of my groups online had a thread of 25 things about me. Thought I'd post my list here for you all to be amazed by all the things about me that you didn't know before...
1. I get annoyed by ill people. I try not to, but I just don't understand it. (It's Grandma's fault. Her and her standing-appointment with Dr. Lenz every Friday morning.)
2. Thankfully, I am not a nurse.
3. I think living in cities is against human nature. (Sorry family in Colo Springs, but yes, you all are quacks! but I love you anyway!)
4. I live in the country.
5. My dream goal is to eat only food produced on our place.
6. My garden is against me fulfilling my dream unless you can eat bindweed.
7. I often have to stop to do the math when someone asks my age. (Let's see...it's 2010...I was born in 1964...that makes me...46).
8. In my mind I'm still 25 with a hot body. Neither is true. (was it true then?)
9. Every day, I look at Kev and think I'm the luckiest girl in the world. Why he "Settled" for me, I'll never know but I will be forever grateful.
10. I wish we had gotten married earlier so I could have talked Kev into having 2 more kids...well, I wish that most of the time...ok...sometimes...umm...
11. I have worked in a library of some kind since 1979. And libraries look very different 30 years later. OMG...did I just type 30???I am not old enough to have worked in a library 30 years! aaarrrgggg!
12. As an academic librarian, I'm annoyed by helicopter parents.
13. As a parent of a 19 year old and a 14 year old, I can now see how easy it is to become a helicopter parent.
14. I'm trying really hard NOT to be a helicopter parent.
15. I bowhunt.
16. I hate fishing but like to eat fish. Except for muddy catfish and trout. Trout look at you. bleh...
17. I think Kansas is one of the most under appreciated states in the union.
18. I have heard every Toto and Dorothy joke and they really annoy me.
19. I'm grateful that all the idiots who like Dorothy and Toto jokes live elsewhere and they all eventually go home...usually to cities.
20. I love the feel, sight, sound, and smell of rain.
21. I like raising chickens. Except when they drive me crazy. Which is fairly often.
22. My favorite part of the day is when I crawl into bed and snuggle with Kev.
23. My mom is one of my best friends.
24. I wish I was a Stay at home wife and mom.
25.Kev and I get up at the un-godly hour of 5 a.m. to exercise. Every day, when the alarm goes off, I pray that he'll just turn it off and go back to sleep. He seldom does. I am NOT a morning person, so exercising with me at 5 a.m. is lots of fun for both of us.
Well, that's it. Tonight...I'm still getting ready to camp. Tonight I am patching some jeans to wear and baking banana bars. Tomorrow, I'm loading the camper. But, I sure would appreciate someone explaining to me how Kev always manages to have to work on the day that the camper gets loaded up for a trip; leaving most of the last minute stuff to me...
No, I don't have a picture to post of my "Kitchen" cross stitch yet...I asked Miss Kat to take a picture of it last night. She did, but wouldn't upload it for me. And there I was...slaving away over a hot stove making cookies for the trip. Ungrateful wench...
So blame her.
One of my groups online had a thread of 25 things about me. Thought I'd post my list here for you all to be amazed by all the things about me that you didn't know before...
1. I get annoyed by ill people. I try not to, but I just don't understand it. (It's Grandma's fault. Her and her standing-appointment with Dr. Lenz every Friday morning.)
2. Thankfully, I am not a nurse.
3. I think living in cities is against human nature. (Sorry family in Colo Springs, but yes, you all are quacks! but I love you anyway!)
4. I live in the country.
5. My dream goal is to eat only food produced on our place.
6. My garden is against me fulfilling my dream unless you can eat bindweed.
7. I often have to stop to do the math when someone asks my age. (Let's see...it's 2010...I was born in 1964...that makes me...46).
8. In my mind I'm still 25 with a hot body. Neither is true. (was it true then?)
9. Every day, I look at Kev and think I'm the luckiest girl in the world. Why he "Settled" for me, I'll never know but I will be forever grateful.
10. I wish we had gotten married earlier so I could have talked Kev into having 2 more kids...well, I wish that most of the time...ok...sometimes...umm...
11. I have worked in a library of some kind since 1979. And libraries look very different 30 years later. OMG...did I just type 30???I am not old enough to have worked in a library 30 years! aaarrrgggg!
12. As an academic librarian, I'm annoyed by helicopter parents.
13. As a parent of a 19 year old and a 14 year old, I can now see how easy it is to become a helicopter parent.
14. I'm trying really hard NOT to be a helicopter parent.
15. I bowhunt.
16. I hate fishing but like to eat fish. Except for muddy catfish and trout. Trout look at you. bleh...
17. I think Kansas is one of the most under appreciated states in the union.
18. I have heard every Toto and Dorothy joke and they really annoy me.
19. I'm grateful that all the idiots who like Dorothy and Toto jokes live elsewhere and they all eventually go home...usually to cities.
20. I love the feel, sight, sound, and smell of rain.
21. I like raising chickens. Except when they drive me crazy. Which is fairly often.
22. My favorite part of the day is when I crawl into bed and snuggle with Kev.
23. My mom is one of my best friends.
24. I wish I was a Stay at home wife and mom.
25.Kev and I get up at the un-godly hour of 5 a.m. to exercise. Every day, when the alarm goes off, I pray that he'll just turn it off and go back to sleep. He seldom does. I am NOT a morning person, so exercising with me at 5 a.m. is lots of fun for both of us.
Well, that's it. Tonight...I'm still getting ready to camp. Tonight I am patching some jeans to wear and baking banana bars. Tomorrow, I'm loading the camper. But, I sure would appreciate someone explaining to me how Kev always manages to have to work on the day that the camper gets loaded up for a trip; leaving most of the last minute stuff to me...
Wednesday, June 09, 2010
tornados and wind
Much like the writer of "The Perfect Country Song", I was told that I had left out some important aspects about Kansas...like tornadoes and rattlesnakes.
So, I've had to revise my "what do you do in Kansas" response to include them. It is as follows...
"Well, this mornin, on the way out to the windmill, I had to kill me an 'ole 8 foot rattler with eleventeen rattles on his tail. I threw him over my shoulder so we could have him for breakfast. After gettin a bucket of water, I glanced over and saw a tornado roarin' down on us. So I hustled back to the house, and got the young'uns into the cellar. Then, just when the tornado had knocked down the windmill and tore up the yard some, I noticed them sneaky Injuns tryin to hijack my chickens. So, I grabbed the shotgun and took care of them there Injuns. After that excitement, it was just another boring day.
So, I've had to revise my "what do you do in Kansas" response to include them. It is as follows...
"Well, this mornin, on the way out to the windmill, I had to kill me an 'ole 8 foot rattler with eleventeen rattles on his tail. I threw him over my shoulder so we could have him for breakfast. After gettin a bucket of water, I glanced over and saw a tornado roarin' down on us. So I hustled back to the house, and got the young'uns into the cellar. Then, just when the tornado had knocked down the windmill and tore up the yard some, I noticed them sneaky Injuns tryin to hijack my chickens. So, I grabbed the shotgun and took care of them there Injuns. After that excitement, it was just another boring day.
Friday, June 04, 2010
Fightin Indians and pickin up buffalo chips
Over the weekend, a young man said to me, "I don't know how you live in Kansas. It's so boring. What do you do for fun?"
Sadly, it's not the first time I've heard that kind of thing. And, quite frankly, I want to smack such people over the head. Seriously. What do they think we do in Kansas? Fight Indians? Battle hoards of grasshoppers? Pick up cow chips for fuel? (And, don't even get me started on the Toto crap...)
Kansas gets a bad rap--an undeserved one. Most people's impression of Kansas comes from driving through the state on I-70. Therefore, they see a 400 miles stretch with 2 miles along either side of the Interstate. Guess what, I-70 was built where it is for ease of construction. The engineers wanted a relatively level area to make construction cheaper and easier. If you are traveling west, Kansas is the first state you come to that takes more than 4 hours to travel across. So, it does seem like a long monotonous trip. Additionally, the Interstate is not urbanized all the way across Kansas like it tends to be in eastern states, so you do see more stretches with fewer fast food restaurants. And, yes, there are fewer trees out here, so it is an abrupt change from the eastern stretches of Interstate.
If you truly want to appreciate all that Kansas has to offer, GET OFF THE INTERSTATE.
In Southeast Kansas, you've got part of the Ozarks and mining communities. In North Eastern Kansas, you've got lots of rivers and trees. Then there are the Flint Hills. In Central Kansas, we've got the Postrock country. And, more hills. In South central/west Kansas, you've got Red Hills. Northwest Kansas has more rolling hills and don't forget the Arikaree Breaks. You don't hit really flat country until you get to the extreme Southwest corner of the state. Even though it's flat there, it's beautiful country.
And nothing is better than a Kansas sunset. Nothing, except a Kansas dawn.
You can see the stars--lots and lots of stars in Kansas.
As to what we do...
Idiot, we do the same things that you "blessed city dwellers" do. Only better.
We have electricity and central heating and cooling. We go to church and visit with our friends. Sorry, but there are no wild Indians left to fight. We have Malls and the same stores you have in your cities.
Just because you drive across our state doesn't mean that you "know" what it's like here. Believe me, you've missed the best parts of Kansas by driving through on I-70. And, you know what, with an attitude like that...you can just keep on driving.
But, next time, when asked "What do you do in Kansas?" I think I'll say, "Well, just yesterday, I had to draw water from the windmill to do laundry. Then, I had to go out and pick up buffalo chips to build the fire with so I could cook lunch for the chillins and then I had to shoot a couple of Indians who were trying to steal my chickens."
Wonder what kind of reaction I'll get from that???
Sadly, it's not the first time I've heard that kind of thing. And, quite frankly, I want to smack such people over the head. Seriously. What do they think we do in Kansas? Fight Indians? Battle hoards of grasshoppers? Pick up cow chips for fuel? (And, don't even get me started on the Toto crap...)
Kansas gets a bad rap--an undeserved one. Most people's impression of Kansas comes from driving through the state on I-70. Therefore, they see a 400 miles stretch with 2 miles along either side of the Interstate. Guess what, I-70 was built where it is for ease of construction. The engineers wanted a relatively level area to make construction cheaper and easier. If you are traveling west, Kansas is the first state you come to that takes more than 4 hours to travel across. So, it does seem like a long monotonous trip. Additionally, the Interstate is not urbanized all the way across Kansas like it tends to be in eastern states, so you do see more stretches with fewer fast food restaurants. And, yes, there are fewer trees out here, so it is an abrupt change from the eastern stretches of Interstate.
If you truly want to appreciate all that Kansas has to offer, GET OFF THE INTERSTATE.
In Southeast Kansas, you've got part of the Ozarks and mining communities. In North Eastern Kansas, you've got lots of rivers and trees. Then there are the Flint Hills. In Central Kansas, we've got the Postrock country. And, more hills. In South central/west Kansas, you've got Red Hills. Northwest Kansas has more rolling hills and don't forget the Arikaree Breaks. You don't hit really flat country until you get to the extreme Southwest corner of the state. Even though it's flat there, it's beautiful country.
And nothing is better than a Kansas sunset. Nothing, except a Kansas dawn.
You can see the stars--lots and lots of stars in Kansas.
As to what we do...
Idiot, we do the same things that you "blessed city dwellers" do. Only better.
We have electricity and central heating and cooling. We go to church and visit with our friends. Sorry, but there are no wild Indians left to fight. We have Malls and the same stores you have in your cities.
Just because you drive across our state doesn't mean that you "know" what it's like here. Believe me, you've missed the best parts of Kansas by driving through on I-70. And, you know what, with an attitude like that...you can just keep on driving.
But, next time, when asked "What do you do in Kansas?" I think I'll say, "Well, just yesterday, I had to draw water from the windmill to do laundry. Then, I had to go out and pick up buffalo chips to build the fire with so I could cook lunch for the chillins and then I had to shoot a couple of Indians who were trying to steal my chickens."
Wonder what kind of reaction I'll get from that???
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
A lovely story about ME...
One day, long, long ago, there lived a woman who did not whine, nag or bitch.
(That would be me....)
But that was a long time ago and it was just that one day..
THE END.
(I got this in an email and it just makes me laugh, so thought I'd share it with you all! Hope it made you laugh too.)
(That would be me....)
But that was a long time ago and it was just that one day..
THE END.
(I got this in an email and it just makes me laugh, so thought I'd share it with you all! Hope it made you laugh too.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)