Catching Up

So much to catch up on... 

Meet-ups are so cool. Robyn of Life By Chocolate blog and I met up while she headed home from a get-away in the north state. I think hanging out in the mountains was good for her because her smile exuded health. Visiting with Robyn was fun. I think that she and I could get into some good trouble if we hung out!  

The Flooring guys informed us that the new flooring could be ready for installation within 2 weeks! No!!!  I'm 3 weeks behind in the purging and packing. 

Instead of purging-and-packing, the Guy and I took off to the Oregon coast to escape Redding's triple digit temps. The redwoods and rocky shore offered great photo opportunities and a couple of nice plein air sites. 

Then, we took four days to camp with our son, his wife and kids. We took our great granddaughter with us and our dogs. 

No Spoiling Here!

Keeping our eyes on the weather forecasts for the coast which promised triple digit temps, we packed tank tops and t-shirts. The temps never left the 60's. It was wonderful in spite of having to wear the same sweathshirts and jeans for several days in a row! 

Hoodie Weather and my Beach Boiz

Cool weather never stopped the kids and my daughter-in-law out of the water. They all body-surfed untl they were pruny.

All-in-all, the Guy and I have procrastinated as much as we possible. Back to responsible adulting. Bye books, bye abundance of kitchen ware, baskets and various unused plant pots. 

I'm fighting for keeping (hoarding) our collection of albums...can't weigh more than 100 pounds and I absolutely will not let any of my bright painted tables go. 

Also, our great-granddaughter made the Nationals in Las Vegas. She and her dragster did well! She's only 10 but she swears she is moving to Vegas to race professionally ASAP!  This photo is from her local track but she reports that Vegas has 4 lanes and professional light trees, "which are he best!"

Quick updates: 

New fire has our air quality in the mid 200's. Jumped from 400 acres to 1200+ in four hours. Fire is remote, terrain is super steep, but may be including our favorite campsite ever, Chirpchatter on the Squaw Creek arm of Shasta Lake.

My laptop crashed and just got it back, just like new. 

The Cheeto Bandito and his partner-in-crime are out-doing themselves in the lies. How is it that the polls report the race so close? 

Side note: When Robyn and I met up at Starbucks I ordered a vanilla latte and the barista asked me if I wanted coffee in it! 

I love Dutch Bros!!!

 

Makes Sense

This morning one of the first posts I read on Instagram:

If Biden does indeed control the weather why is Mar-a-Lago still standing?

Indeed! 

Oh My Lord!

 In September I published an "It's Okay" post. There was a lot about how it was okay about the dishwasher flooding.

It has been over a month and we've gone from It's Okay to It's on the edge! 

Still no flooring in the kitchen. Some of the cabinets have been dismantled. There are plans to knock out wallboard up to 2' high in several spots. 

There are nearly 30 houseplants (my bestest friends) that need to be moved to other rooms for who-knows-how-long, though the contract states that it will all be done by January 2, 2025. Wha...?

The contractor did let us know that in the middle of the demo next week that hunting season will be opening. 

Now you might shrug your shoulders or roll your eyes at that last statement but this is Shasta County. Hunting is BIG and takes precendence over everything. Almost everything; Opening Bass season is a pretty big deal, too. 

Many, many moons ago, when I met The Guy, I owned a home with only one bathroom. I wanted to remodel bathroom to list the house for sale. The contractor turned the water off to house and removed the toilet while I was at work. He didn't return for three days, but he got his buck and was very proud!

Another contractor knocked out the front door and front closet to enlarge the living area. I wanted to replace the doubled hung windows in dining area with French doors. Before he could install the French doors he and his crew disappeared for 3 days and a weekend. We actually entered the house through the windows for five entire days. He, too, got his buck. We got bruises and eye rolls from neighbors!

A year, or so, ago, the Guy and I sorted out books. We donated aproximately a dozen boxes of books and tossed out three book shelves. Our left over books, the ones we couldn't bear to part with are now filling up more donation boxes. I'm sure before this is done, we will part with even more.

Our house looks like victim of a nuclear explosion but I guess that's the way of chaotic purging.

We took a huge load of "stuff" and books to Salvation Army this morning and filled the garbage can. If you walked into the house you would still wonder why we still have so much sh*t. Heck, we wonder why we have so much sh*t.

But, It's Okay. We are getting brand new floors and baseboards and the contractor will be painting most of the walls to get them to match baseboards, 

If there is a book-goddess, I pray she forgives me for giving my babies up for adoption.

Irreverence Is My Superpower

Irreverence isn't my vice-of-choice, it's more a vice-by-birth. I've always been this way...Some people have an inner voice, an inner child, some inner something. I have an inner ungovernable smart-ass.

I can't seem to shake it. It's like fly paper. The harder I try to shake it off the more stuck I get and stickiness is the gateway drug to Irreverence.

Okay, to be honest, I really haven't tried to shake it. Not even on the day I got married, been married 4 times but only two husbands. Married the first guy twice..what was I thinking! 

Married the second guy twice, too, but our last ceremony was a recommittal (OMG..re-committal...boy, could I run with that one!) 

 At the ring part of the ceremony, with husband #two, when the pastor asks, "What tokens do you have to show?" My husband and I look up at each other with love in our eyes and whisper to each other, "Tokens? Tokens? We don't got to show you no stinkin' tokens!"

I just love him. For a good catholic boy he can be pretty irreverent himself!  My husband, not the pastor! 

I get in trouble because a person can be telling me something really serious when suddenly my irreverence gene shifts into gear. My dang face  betrays me! Unbeknownst to me, it breaks out in a smile. Honestly, I'm filled with compassion but the irreverence factor kicks in and takes control of facial expression and body language.

For instance, a friend of mine had their car stolen from the Quizno's sandwich's parking lot on Little Eureka Way. He locked it, but it was a really hot day, so he left the windows open!  

Seventeen irreverent (but classic) thoughts dance into my head, you know, the "two cans short of a case" kinds of ruminations. 

I mean, no one leaves a car parked on Little Eureka Way, let alone with windows down. I know it's Redding and the temperature was a 3-digit-high, but still, hit a drive-thru and keep your car! Luckily, he knows my mind cuts checks that my face immediately cashes without proper I.D.

Luckily, he's my friend and he's okay with my uncontrollable face muscles!

My mother-in-law has diverticulitis but every time she tells me about her symptoms the irreverence gene whispers things like, "Wow, that's pretty shitty!" I don't say it outloud because my MIL doesn't understand me like my friend does. 

I call the irreverent part of my personality "Bill." I imagine him in worn levi's, white t-shirt and a pack of cigarettes rolled up in one sleeve of his James-Dean t-shirt. Bill doesn't actually smoke because I would have to kick him out of the gang  and that probably wouldn't be smart.  Who would take out the trash or clean the bathrooms? None of the rest of us in my brain-gang want to be responsible for that shit....oops!. Besides, it would leave a gaping hole in my personality.

Is there a rehab for irreverent people?  Irreverence Anonymous?  "Hi, my name is Toni; I'm irreverent!" 

"Hi Toni."

I'm afraid of life without irreverence, to be quite frank. Without irreverence, I might get a case of relevance! Pertinence without impertinence, what kind of world would that be? If I lost my irreverence, people might take me serious and that's not a good creek to be up, with or without a paddle!

Besides, I don't really have a problem. I can stop being irreverent any time I want!

“Irreverence is a most necessary ingredient of religion. Not to speak of its importance in philosophy. Irreverence is the only way left to us for testing our universe.”

— Frank Herbert

Hey, It's Okay

 Amber at Airing My Laundry, One Post At A Time has been featuring a Hey, It's Okay post for quite awhile. She got the idea from an old Glamour magazine article. I think it was originally "Hey, It's Okay Tuesday" but in the world we live in lately, I believe "hey, it's okay" needs to be a daily thought, because we sure as hell have daily "hey, it's not okay" days coming out our, uh, ears. Yeah, ears will do.

So here goes:

Hey, It's Okay:

1.That my dishwasher flooded over and ruined the kitchen floor. I'm insured and I have no divisions throughout the house (except bedrooms and bathrooms) so I get new wood floors throughout! Shiny new wood from here to there!

2. That I have to live with no wood floors for who knows how long. I should be wearing socks anyway.

3. That physical therapy is almost over...it's just okay!

4. That I don't need a new dishwasher, just a valve on the inside the dishwasher needs replacing.

5. That flash flood warnings have been issued for us, it's usually only an intersection or two that floods and the rain will help the fires and clear the air of smoke.

6. That my dogs are old because so am I!

7. That lots of McDonalds ice cream machines don't work most of the time. McD's ice cream is mostly wood (cellulose) anyway! 

Thank you, Amber, for once again reminding me that it's okay!

Clutch's Coup

In the midst of political tension, not only in the U.S. but in our county, there was a bit of tension at our house. 

Shasta County has made the New York Times, Los Angeles Times, San Jose Mercury News, San Francisco Chronicle and ABC National News. We're having our own little civil war here in northern California. If you haven't read about it or heard Shasta County on the news...good for you. Insanity reigns in the northstate.

As for our little family, we had a little personal coup happen.

Meet Clutch! "Prince Clutch" if he could speak.

He is about 2 months old and knows with every little mega ounce of himself that he is the cutest pup this side of the Rockies!

Clutch is the newest addition to our oldest grandson's dogs; Sprocket & Roczen. Yes his is the household with the 10 year old drag racer, adult drag racers and mechanics of all things that go with wheels that are driven by engines, big and small.

Clutch really likes the pad that Rex and Lily share. He kept staring at me and looking back at my comfy babies as if I was going to tell them to move so Clutch could rest his pretty little self.

I didn't. 

I did toss a blanket on the floor for him. He immediately took possession of it, moving closer to Lily.  She huffed and moved herself to the bedroom.  

She may be fearful of Clutch's paws. Lily and Clutch are the same height but Clutch's paws are easily triple the size of Lily's dainty little totsies. He also has puppy-manners and Lily is a true lady with little patience for rambunctious  mini-tanks.

Precious little heavy-weight moved himself closer and closer to Rex. My Reximus Maximus Aurelius III has no problem with baby dogs, big dogs, kittens, cats or humans, but he does love his naps. 

Clutch was not in the mood for a nap. He really wanted to play. Rex really wanted to nap.

Ah, the couch! Too high for chubby puppy to climb on his own. 

What about Prince Clutch? 

It appears that pestering the two oldies tired him out, so he made himself at home on Rex's and Lily's pad and enjoyed a comfortable snooze.

Only the beginning!

Taking Care of Nana!

 You probably don't need to be informed that music has been overrun with explicit lyrics since Crosby, Nash, Stills and Young were leading the charts!

Members of my family have a long-standing habit of changing lyrics to suit our moods but even then, we pretty much kept the language clean.

My 10-year-old great granddaughter was in the car with me earlier this week, humming a beautiful melody. I wanted to hear more. I asked her about the song and artist. 

Exited to shared her love for the songs of her favorite musician but especially the love for the song she was humming, she hummed it a little louder.

"That is beautiful! Will you sing it for me?" I asked.

A deep wrinkle developed between her eyebrows and her mouth kind of twitched a bit. 

Though she sings out loud all day long while she is here with me, she said she would try to find a version of the song "without explicit lyrics" and share that with me!

I love it. My great granddaughter is going to protect me, a nana, fluent in trucker-speak, from explicit lyrics.

She makes me smile! 

You Fought a Good fight

 Fare travels, Mike. You fought a good fight.

Standing beside MIke's bed in the VA hospital, I was filled with sadness and thankfulness. Thankful that I had known this man for so many years as a truly good friend. Our conversations through the years were sometimes mere laugh fests and sometimes extremely deep.

Since his passing I have reconnected with Mike's best friend and sidekick from high school. Sharing our memories of those days of carefree youth has been sweet. Reminds me of life surrounded by orchards, drives to Santa Cruz and picnics at Steven's Creek Park, basketball games in our respective gyms, and the night Mike rolled our friend Gavin's parents Mercedes.

I imagine Mike sipping brandy with Hemmingway in some tropical other-world filled with joy and contentment discussing all their favorite books and classic movies and the meaning of life.

"Friendship is not a jewel or a coin or a gift

Jewels and coins and gifts don’t die

Friendship is not a flower or blown glass;

Friendship is not fragile

Friendship is not a poem or a melody

Because friendship cannot be forgotten

Friendship is a symphony

With grand overtures

Melodic harmonies

and unforgettable phrases

punctuated by Attacking staccatos, Vibrant arpeggios then peaceful interludes

And sometimes rests Followed by thoughtful segues

All held together by a coherent structure

called Respect"

(Ellis Reyes Apr 2021)

Frightening

Hi Friends! Hope you're all well.

When I was 7 or 8 years old I read an article in the Readers Digest magazine my parents subscribed to. The article was written in the voice of another 7 or 8 year old. She was in  Czecholslovakia in the 1950's.

Her story begins with her being awakened in her bed in the wee hours of the morning by a deep rumble that shook her bed. 

I don't remember how she discovered that the rumble was not an earthquake but was actually a Soviet tank rolling down her street, but I remember her fear. 

I remember her fear when soldiers broke down the door to her home and dragged her father away.

I remember her fear and misery when as she talks about never seeing her father again. He disappeared along with the fathers, uncles, grandfathers of many of her friends.

I also remember the fear I experienced while reading her story and the relief I felt when my father reassured me that we live in America. 

"What happened to that little girl and her family will never happen to us."

Years and years later, when Donald Trump announced his candicacy for president, my father shared with me how frightening it was that a man of that temperment could be seriously considered for the highest office in our country.

Dad shared with me that this man had the same attributes as Hitler, Mussolini and other despicable men. Men who lacked character, compassion or simple humanity.

My dad passed away in 2018, at almost 90 years old. I miss him with all my heart but I can't tell you how relieved I am that he is not here today to witness our country so close to losing our way of life, our democracy; to witness how close we are to having tanks rumbling down our neighborhood streets to round up those of us who have declared outloud what we think of Trump and his minions.

The good news after today's Supreme Court decision on presidential immunity is that I have a terminal disease. I may not be here if the Cheeto Banditio wins the election. The bad news is that my grandchildren will inherit a world we never could imagine for ourselves.

I am afraid for them. I am afraid for women, for LGBTQ+ community, for minorities, for disabled, for the elderly, for the impoverished. 

I am afraid for the United States of America.

Rolling Stones

 The Rolling Stones have never been one of my favorites. I may be one of a dozen people in my age group that isn't fond of them, let-alone "in love' with them. I did like those striped trousers but the music was meh for the most part.

These past two days their hit song Time Is On My Side (no, it's not) is stuck in my head. Stuck in my head when I am not thinking about a dear, dear friend who is in surgery at this moment. 

He and I have been friends since I was 12, he was 14. He was also too cool for me when we were that age but I thought he looked like Dr. Kildare (Richard Chamberlain). 

As we matured (or so we thought) we begin going to parties together and eventually dating. He was my first real kiss, my first date, my first make-out partner! I went to his high school prom with him. 

He had a 1954 Ford that we would jam full of friends and sometimes drag race down El Camino Real in Santa Clara. The front bench seat of this peach of a car was not bolted down, so occasionally, it slipped a bit. One Friday evening we were headed to have pizza with friends; Mike and I and some friends in his car, the rest of the gang in Norv's car. 

At a red light, our friend drove up next to us, revving his engine. The light turned green,:we peeled out. We were far ahead of Norv's car when the light in front of us turned red. My friend slammed on his brakes. As we skidded to a stopped the bench seat slid out from under us. The three of us in the front seat were looking up, staring at our knees, when one of the guys in the back seat yelled, "I smell smoke!" 

Smoke was, indeed, rising from the back of the vehicle. It was a sight watching 8 crazy teenagers trying to squirm our way out of the vehicle. Oh yeah, the left hand door in the back didn't function so back-seaters had to scramble out of the right hand door. Bruising did, indeed, result.

After we all settled down and the adrenaline oozed away, Mike, my friend, discovered that he had left his emergency brake on when we were racing, hence, the smoke!

Did any of us morons call our folks for a ride home? Heck no. We pushed the bench seat back in place, piled back in and went for pizza and spent the evening harrassing the Norv that we beat him even with the brakes on. 

How are we all still alive?

Mike and I have been good friends for the last 61 years. We dated for a short time and then moved on to other people but stayed friends. 

The past two years we've both had health issues and talk quite often, not just about health problems. We just share life's experiences, thoughts and perceptions. His significant other died early this year leaving 16 years old twins in his care. Since her passing he has had several serious surgeries and complications from surgeries. 

He called on Sunday to tell me that he was back in the VA hospital with a serious infection from the last surgery. The doctors had also discovered he has cancer in his spine and it is not the primary cancer but they are not sure yet of original location. 

He called yesterday to say that he was going to have surgery on infected site but transferring hospitals first. 

This morning he called to say the doctor said that the surgery was needed asap; maybe this evening or tomorrow BUT that with everything else going on with Mike the possiblity of not making it through surgery was a real issue.

We spoke for only a minute or so because I was in doctor's office myself. I told him I would call as soon as I saw the doctor. 

Ten minutes later, about an hour ago, Mike called me back. He said the doctor went over the most recent test results and said emergency surgery was required "right now!" Just then my own doctor walked into the room.

We said, "I love you." He hung up.

I don't remember what my doctored said. I could only think of all the things I've always wanted to tell Mike. What a good friend he's been over the years. How brilliant a writer he is. How compassionate he is. That he still reminds me of Dr. Kildare. How I really loved that first kiss and the prom. 

Time is not on our side, people. Tell those you love, those you appreciate, those you respect how you feel. Tell the now. Don't wait until they're being wheeled in to surgery and might not be coming out.  

May (Maybe Yes and Maybe No)

I can't say enough about how awesome the doctors and pharmacists are at U C Davis. They must major in medicine but hold a minor in Listening Skills and Communication Arts.

If you need medical care, try to get a referral to U C Davis. The Critical Care Unit is in downtown Sacramento and only minutes from the airport. It's a two hour drive for us but the drive back usually includes a drive through Sacramanto Wildlife Refuge for some photography. 

Good medical care, eagles, owls, and a Costco ice cream sundae!  

It's a win/win trip! 

Speaking of photography, one of the Guy's photographs was chosen as the banner for the U. S. National Weather Service-Sacramento website for the month of April. 

Photo by Frank Tona (copyright)

 It was taken on a crazy weather day and evening. We were standing on the top of a nearby parking structure and the lightning was constant, the thunder was both rolling and rumbling. Scary and exciting!

Doctor and pharmacist are lowering the dosage of Ofev and sending a new perscription. I start it again next week. Wish me luck.

Lab Results

 Sometimes we are stuck in  dilemma, not knowing which unpleasant choice to make and something comes along and makes the choice for you.

The Hep panel results are in today and in just three months the new medication has flipped my liver test results from straight down the middle of normal to a crazy patch of highs and lows. 

Too late to call the pulmonologist today. Don't most doctors (and lawyers) take Friday afteroons off for a round of golf?

So I guess I'll find out Monday if I continue meds or not but in the meantime, I think I'll not take the pills, drink lots of water and go eat some spicy Mexican food and maybe some Indian cuisine! 

Still over-the-moon with joy for my son and his family and I know (cause I do my research) that I can get my liver back to normal in three weeks or so.

Yo Vivo!