Friday, February 10, 2017

the week that was

Monday morning we left for Canby. No kind of travel is painless for us so even though Mom makes it very comfortable and the trip is not long, I complain about the drive. Two hours seems to be my limit. I have been known to weep on car trips, quite often actually.

We had a good time. Drove out to the state line (South Dakota) for a drink Monday night. Went to Hero's for dinner. Made two baby blankets and a lemon cake. Visited a lot. Tangled with the internet provider. Did a few little jobs. All very enjoyable.

We got home without incident. I went to bed and slept soundly.

At 6, I woke up and found Regis sitting in the chair in the living room. Off we went to the ER. The rest of that story is in the post I made by email a couple days ago. Always a mystery to me how that happens.

We got home about 6 last night. Ate a drive-through burger and some soggy fries. Went to bed at 8pm and didn't wake up until 7 this morning. I haven't accomplished much today except to be vertical and to make a couple loaves of bread. Mostly I have played Scrabble and read my book.

I'm making grilled ham and cheese sandwiches for dinner. We might finish the episode of Night Manager that we started last night but were too tired to finish.

Regis is feeling better. At least he can walk upright without pain. He'll see his primary care doc on Wednesday for a follow-up visit.

Never a dull moment around here.

Wednesday, February 08, 2017

Here we are

It's unnerving to wake up at 6 and find a text from Regis, written at 3am, asking me to take him to the ER.

He described intense pain in his lower left abdomen that got worse when he stood. Off to the ER we went.  

Three hours later, we are on our way to the Mother Ship in Rochester. Me in the car and Regis in the back of an ambulance. 

A very nice doc in Mankato diagnosed a hematoma in an abdominal muscle with a large clot. Likely from the blood thinning drugs but exacerbated by a slip on the ice last week. 

He has learned that if you admit to a fall, suddenly it's in your chart and you're wearing a neon bracelet that says Fall Risk. Better to say you were break dancing. 

He will be here a few days while they stabilize his blood. It will go from thin to thick to thin. Simple explanation. I hope to go home tomorrow. 

Monday, January 30, 2017

that is all

I'm not going to rant about politics this morning because, frankly, it's exhausting. I'm only right now, this morning. An hour from now might be different.

Well, there is this. I just got distracted looking for funny pictures of Steve Bannon and Kelly Anne Conway. There is no shortage (I'd post a few here but don't want to ruin the bread and baby mojo.) but here's a scary idea. Someone started a FB page to promote her run for the presidency in 2020. Lord have mercy.

Sunday, January 29, 2017

waking up, waiting for war

It's been a little more than a week since we inaugurated the new potus. I am already weary of waking up every day and having my first thought be of war. Every day, it's some new outrageous thing he has done. Every day, some new embarrassment in front of the world.

Yesterday, people who have lived here legally for years were detained and not allowed to enter the US. Britain is considering (again) not allowing him to visit their country. He is an ignorant schoolyard bully. I say if they decide to let him in, they have to keep him. Preferably in a jail cell.

This morning, I wake up to see he has reshuffled the US National Security Council, downgrading the military chiefs of staff and giving a regular seat to his chief strategist Steve Bannon. The guy who tells the press to shut up. The guy who looks like Nick Nolte's last mug shot.

From Wikipedia: Bannon was a founding member of the board of Breitbart Newsa far-right news, opinion and commentary website which, according to Philip Elliott and Zeke J. Miller of Time, has "pushed racist, sexist, xenophobic and anti-Semitic material into the vein of the alternative right".

You can't make this shit up, my friends. If you voted for this dude, this is what you got us. It's not like he kept his crazy hidden during the campaign.

I'm angry. Disturbed. Afraid. I'll go into my kitchen soon and bake a couple more loaves of bread. If they take away our social security and medicare and we end up living in a van down by the river, at least we'll have bread for a couple weeks.

Saturday, January 28, 2017

unwilling to be silent

I've discovered as I've gotten older that one thing that causes extreme stress for me is acting as if things are normal and sane when they are not. I'm not filled with courage when it comes to speaking my mind and usually choose a safe route to hedge and hem and haw. I'm not good at conflict and I'm especially not good at arguing with people regarding subjects about which I have strong feelings. My emotions get in the way.


I hear I was called a baby killer from the pulpit of the local Catholic church this past Sunday. The priest called all women who marched in the Women's March baby killers. Did he mean all people who marched, because there were men, lots of men. If he did mean the men, too, it would be the first time I have heard the role of men mentioned in public debates about reproduction. If he means all of us at the March believe in each woman having the right to make her own reproductive decisions, then he is right about me. I do believe that is my right and the right of other women.

I would bet there were many people there who are not in favor of abortion. Hell, I'm not in favor of it but I think I can make that decision for myself. The picture I saw was the potus and seven white men standing around the Oval Office making this very personal decision the business of the government. What the hell.

A couple things about that. It seems to me that the folks so outraged about the right to life don't give a damn about the life of the child once it exits the womb. Housing, education, health care are not their worries. Pull yourself up by your bootstraps, kid. The potus says he did.

I think it is the height of hypocrisy to proclaim outrage about children in the womb here but to not care a fig about children dying in refugee camps or in small rubber rafts as their parents try to flee war, torture, and starvation. I call bullshit.

The Catholic Church has a huge-hearted and compassionate Pope right now. I doubt he would condone this kind of name calling and hateful rhetoric being spouted in his churches. I'm writing a letter to him and to the Bishop of this diocese because I can't sit here silently anymore...about any of this.

My silence gives consent.

Thursday, January 26, 2017

saved by

poems that come by email and social media
it shouldn't be this hard
poems that drift into my head, like smoke
the dog's fluffy head and
the cat coming for treats at 4am
soft purr and persistent paws
tiny birds that come to the feeder in the hour before dawn
the sound of bread crust crackling on the counter as it cools
children at the table doing homework and listening
what's a revolution?
the silence of snow falling outside my window
fresh smell of a new baby
soft head, grasping tiny fingers
old women who write

journalists who persist
parks that defy
women who march

Wednesday, January 25, 2017

immobilized, angry, sad

Some days it is a struggle to get out of bed. To stay vertical. On the days when I do, I read the news or watch a little bit of it (as much as I can stomach) and I want to go directly to the cave.

It's baffling. Up is down and down is up. Lies are alternative facts. I'm not going to be in the business of reporting his crazy ass shit here. It gives me a headache to think about it.

I might have turned a corner, though. I was heartened to see a reporter go after a couple of dumb asses today and (almost) holler: Just answer the question! He never did. How these people can sleep at night is a mystery. Even the pope has cautioned against this guy. The Pope. Think about that. Take all the time you need.

I'm turning into an angry and sarcastic person. You might not know it to see me on the street but I have angry (and sad) thoughts many times a day. The number of times I say sarcastic things in my head in a day is too many to count. Think I should see a doctor? I have an appointment but I'm not sure she can fix what's wrong.