Is That Light The End of the Tunnel Or...........?

Well, my dears, I have come through the valley of the shadow of death once more and have decided to live a while longer, if I am allowed to.

Actually, what I did was....I took some desperate action and it turned out to  be a real salvation in many ways. Oh, but the pain leading up to and during and even for a while after.......... 

Before you start muttering WTF, let me hasten to explain as best I can.  When we last left our heroine she was struggling with (among other things)   failing vision, impaired hearing and a cat who was so fat she couldn't clean her own hiney leaving that job to her servant and wet wipes and who was pooping on the bed and all over the place, to name just a few problems.  The hearing thing....a recurrence of my old inner ear ailment was really the last straw.  (though you would think the pooping on the bed would be, wouldn't you?.....well, we are all different).  The ear thing, Mennierre's syndrome, is a bitch which cuts off your hearing makes you ears feel stuffed  full of pudding, upsets your balance and makes you dizzy and nauseous.......I think you would agree that none of those are good things.  My caregiver, Florence, has an extremely soft voice and I have been having to tell her to speak up for months, but this was much worse and I was sick of telling her, "louder please".  She did try  but couldn't or wouldn't maintain the pitch and finally suggested that I get a hearing aid, which prompted me to explode in a rant about her uncooperativeness and insensitivity.  When I got my breath I decided it was not a bad idea, so I got on the internet and found a promising looking appliance for very little money and tons of rave reviews....so.....realizing the need for action,  I ordered one.  ( ! )

While waiting for the package I had another idea to possibly solve my kitty problem.  I decided to take Winnie to  my old wonderful lady Vet who, in past discussions of what would happen to my kitties after I crossed the rainbow bridge, had offered to take care of them herself.  First, I wanted to see if she had any ideas about how to slim Winnie down and, sadly she had none but the dreaded word "Diet" and  brought out a bag of the dreaded boring low carb kibble.  We discussed the other Winnie problems and she suggested I leave Winnie with her in the Hospital for a few days to cure her sore behind and see what could be done and I had a brainstorm.  I had been arranging with my cousin to come down from Portland and help me trap Baskin and put him and Winnie in carriers and drive them up north to a wonderful cat retirement home to which I would donate a lot of moolah.  Why not negotiate a better solution?  So I made her an offer she couldn't refuse to adopt Winnie then and there and she agreed to cure Winnie and take her home to join her husband and 10 other cats, all of whom share a single bedroom....don't ask me how.  At least I knew Winnie would not be lonely, might slim down and b e able to clean her own hiney and would have great veterinary services at her beck and call.  It was a done deal in a twinkling and I left with an aching heart but a huge weight lifted from my shoulders.  There have been a few days of much pain but none of regret.  I am sure I did the best thing for all concerned.  Sigh.

And then the new hearing aid arrived and, after a few blunders, some cursing and wailing and grinding of teeth, Florence and I manages to get the tubing on the right protruberence and I tried it and, by gum,  it worked pretty damned well ......better than the $3500 contraption that I took back immediately several years ago which nearly blew my head off with my own voice.  Of course, immediately upon sensing that the hearing aid had been deposited in the mail box, my inner ear problem subsided and I could again hear somewhat, but I still welcome the help if I feel I need it.  Really, I am glad I was forced into action on this front.

So, kiddies all in all, things are looking up and I am no longer hating my life.  I feel like I have solved a few big problems and taking some positive action has lifted a huge load from my shoulders and made me feel somewhat competent again........so I can smile again and, perhaps, continue blogging cheerfully.........or, maybe not.  We will just have to wait and see, won't we?

Tune in again and find out.

A Short Update....Mostly Groan and Grumble

Haven't blogged lately because I am going though a bad spell.  My inner ear malady has recurred making me mostly deaf and considerably dizzy.  And Winnie has taken to shitting on my bed and in various other places besides the kitty box.   What ever made me think I loved cats?  I will not even mention my vision problems....

 In desperation I have even ordered a hearing aid online just to see if anything might help till my ears clear up.........(Florence is very soft spoken and cannot or will not remember to speak louder and I am sick and tired of saying, "Louder, please.")    I am sick and tired of lots of things right now.......hence,  my mood is very dark and not conducive to frivolity. 

Be patient and the other Lois may return shortly.....for all of our sakes, I certainly hope so.

Here Is a Real Role Model.....I Am In Awe

This is AMAZING -- she doesn't look or act a day over 81 herself!

 

An amazing lady, 101 years old driving an 81 year old car; she changes

 

the oil and spark plugs herself! This is priceless.

 

Note at the very end of the video clip when she steps on a small red towel

 

as she gets in the car; the towel is there so she won't dirty the

 

running board - once in the car she picks up the towel and puts it

 

in the car so she can use it when she gets out. What a pistol she

 

is!

  

Lady   101 drives 81 year old Packard car

 

How to Get Back to Old Blogger

 Linda asked mefor the tip about how to get the Old blogger interface back.  I am reprinting Docnad's instructions below for those of you who feel like I do about the new Thing.
                              ****************************************

docnadApr 21, 2012 09:09 AM

Well, what I do is click on the gear, or whatever that roundish symbol is. One of the drop-down options is Use Old Blogger Interface. I still prefer that a lot to the new one, and I still use it every day.

I do not like blogging on the new blogger interface, but I have found one thing--just one, mind you--useful. When you go to your list of posts, it tells you how many comments have been left on each and, more importantly, how many times the page has been viewed. This is useful feedback I was unable to find anywhere on the old interface.

Hell, I'm A Gemini.....I'm Allowed to Change My Mind

Well, darlings.... ..I do not have to abandon you after all.  Docnad from "Attempted Bloggery" and Mary Moon of "Bless Our Hearts" have both sent me the secret to getting back to the old blogger interface.  Tenks gott and a million thanks to both of you.

That doesn't mean that I take back a single word I said in yesterday's rant about the abomination of smart asses trying to improve things that do not need improving and  thereby ruining them completely.  Never was the old adage "If it ain't broke, don't fix it" more true.

Dammit.....as I told Murr Brewster of "Murrmurrs" in my comment this morning, those blogger bastards have taken a year off my life with their meddling and at my age that amounts to a crime far worse than highway robbery......I can surely get them for Attempted Murder at least.

Love you all.

Hopefully, more later.

What the Fuck? How Dare They?

What a monstrous fucking goddamned mess the so-called new blogger platform is and I, for one,  will have no part of it.  Not only is it unworkable, it is visually ugly and poorly designed.  (and I know these things because graphic design used to be my profession..... not that it matters one whit at this point)

No I will NOT get used to it.........I will not accept inferior products as substitute for ones I find convenient and workable.  How dare they force this garbage upon us?  I cannot believe that all of you intend to just lie down and accept this outrage.  I have been trying to find who I can protest to and am so upset I have been unable to do so....or maybe they cleverly just failed to provide us with a means of howling at them.

Along with everything else, they very casually exposed two of my very private blogs to any prying eye that wanted to see them.  Oops they will say.....there may be a bug or two still left.......those cretins.......oh torture and death is too good for them is all I can say.  (loud gnashing of teeth here)

I really mean it when I say I will not be pushed around like this nor will I participate in something just because I have no choice in the matter.  I do have a choice and that is to find some way to communicate  other than Blogger.  If you have any ideas or comments please email me and do send me all of your email addresses.....those who would like to stay in touch that is.

                          lms52927@aol.com

Otherwise, I am afraid this is goodbye.  It was beyond  lovely knowing all of you.  Sob.

Oh, hell.....for one last times....shit, piss, fuck.

Exit Lois - Enter Lois....or Out One Door and In the Other

Yuck.  Overnight I have gone  from "hanging in there" to "losing my grip".   Shit, piss, fuck.


 I have had an interesting/upsetting/off-putting week or two  and want to share some pieces of it with y'all.  It's either that or deafening silence which is not good for blogs.


The following couple of paragraphs are some groans and grumbles I wrote a week ago after a visit to my favorite Doctor, my cardiologist, who has saved my life more times than I can count. I was feeling punk and puny, my good hip had  begun to hurt and feel like it was broken and my vision....oh, my precious  vision had gotten so dreadful that I could hardly see anything.  I was in despair to say the least and had started counting my supply of Valium to see if I had enough to make a quick exit.........I do that sometimes and it makes me feel better in some ways. 
 
After the usual pleasantries (a hug and an EKG/Blood-Oxygen test/BP check) I waited to hear my fate. When the Blood-oxy registered quite low I sluffed it off as usual and reminded him that I had developed some exercises to cope with that condition.   He then  made me walk up and down the hall to the elevator and back and checked my Blood Oxygen level again, fixed me with a piercing eye and said something like, "Lois, your trouble is that you are practicing medicine with out as license."  I knew better than to protest.....this guy is GOOD.  Sigh.


No, no.....I have not been given a dreaded prognosis.....at least no new ones........it is just that my blood/oxygen level has gotten a mite worse  (40 years of smoking does have its effects)   and  he sort of ordered me (though it is still my choice) to utilize the oxygen machine all day as well as all nite.  (I have been sleeping with oxygen since the broken hip episode). And what that means is that, in the twinkling of an eye I am no longer a free range chicken and am tethered to an oxy-generator by a long, long clear plastic tube which manages to get underfoot at every moment, wraps itself around the drawer pulls and not only opens drawers I did not want to open, but brings me up short as I stride around the manor and threatens to rip off my nose or otherwise seriously maim me.  A real pain in nose..... and the ass.

At the same time, my handy, dandy little oxy-meter by which I measure my level decided, after only 10 or 15 years, to act up thereby leaving me in suspense as to whether I am somewhat OK or in grave danger. Pfaugh!  I certainly named this blog correctly.  I have since ordered and received a back up meter.  That kind of thing is easy to remedy......it just costs money.

Well, all I can say is that I am not a very happy camper right now as I learn new ways to cope with the latest.  Actually, it is not as bad as might be.  I can take it off when I go into the kitchen to mess around with food.  For one thing, I decided on my own that oxygen and flame are not good bedfellows and for another, that saves me from getting the hose caught on any one of the dozen or so drawer pulls and rendering me motionless with a jerk.  We must be thankful for small favors,,, I guess.

One positive thing that HAS come out of all this is that I find the extra oxygen seems to be helpful to my troubled vision.  That does not mean that my 20/20 sight has  been miraculously restored, but I think that it has paused in its diminishing.......a consequence to be devoutly grateful for.

So here I still am though in a somewhat more decrepit form.  Thank heaven you don;'t love me for my looks.

The Truth Revealed....the Real Lo Behind the Blog

OK.......now you know who really writes all this dubious stuff.

After this I fully expect to receive fan mail not only from Daisy, but from Pearl's Liza Bean Bitey and Dolly G. Squeakers.

New Backup QB for the NE Patriots

My oldest friend, Stella, in Concord NH, is a rabid Pats fan and she sent me a lovely team T-Shirt recently which I received with great joy since it makes a perfect nightshirt and Lounge-around-the-house garment.  (I only wear sequins and feather boas on alternate Sundays unless I happen to be invited to tea with Mark Harmon or something.....)

Naturally, as we have been buying each other t-shirts for over 70 years ( I don't know WHY), this required the ritual photo to be taken and forwarded as proof of receipt and demonstration of pleasure.  I forced Florence into taking the pix and sent it on to dear old Stel, and then it occurred to me that none of you have ever seen me in a NE Patriots team shirt  and might be amused so I am going to attempt to retrieve it from my messy photo collection in the depths of this computer. Hang on there.

Speaking of football,  when we were 13,  riding the #42 trolley to school we used to have a ritual of a different kind.  Stel had the kind of frnt teeth that made it possible for her to whistle through them and we whiled away many an hour with our game of me shouting out the names of various college football teams (I don't think there was any pro football back then) and Stel immediately whistling the first few bars of their college song.   I never was able to stump her or even make her pause for thought........what a talent.......what fun we had........what harmless silliness amused us in those days......wow.    Hmmm......after years of wearing braces, I wonder if she can still do it????

Enough foolishness.  Behold.  (and be sure to take note of my personally designed and created magnificent front door  behind me).

It's Pesach.....It's Easter......It's Passover........That Means Buying Ham and Matzoh Meal

What does a good little somewhat-but-not-very Jewish food fanatic do for Easter?  She buys a ham and a box of matzoh meal.  Obviously that requires a little explanation and/or justification.

It's like this, folks.  Two things happened kind of simultaneously recently.....well...a  lot more than 2 things, but the others are for another blog.  I made a promise to myself that I would begin to use up the provisions stored in the freezer to ward off possible starvation.....an awful lot of it being chicken  of various kinds, and in dealing with the first batch of thawed chicken I discovered I had a subliminal addiction for chicken salad. (mine is particularly delish because I put a dab of sweet pickle relish in it plus a bit of fresh chopped rosemary  and it really makes a nibbling delight.)  I have found that I prefer my chicken salad chicken to be made from good old fashioned soup chicken rather than leftover roast chicken....which, naturally seems to result in a refrigerator full of bottles of lovely homemade chicken soup like my Grandma Mamie used to make. Before I relegated said soup to the freezer I realized that the time of the year must be around Pesach.  Now I haven't been to a Seder in more than half a lifetime, but my memory for food is perfect so naturally I started salivating for a good old fashioned matzoh ball to go in my chicken soup and found myself writing "Matzoh Meal" on the shopping list and wondering how in the hell to explain to Florence (from Uganda) what it was and how to find it in the Passover section of the market. 

At just about this very moment my Handyman and friend, Michael appeared on the scene and began uttering wistful noises about a ham bone because he was craving a batch of his famous (?) ham and bean soup.  This in turn reminded me of the fact that it was a holiday week and the markets always had some nifty butcher shop specials which I , the pinch-pennyest person in North Hollywood can't  bear to miss.....and of course the special would be Ham.  Now I love ham but I haven't baked one for longer than I haven't attended a Seder, but I figured I could find a recipe for  a nice glaze and the idea of a slice of ham and some scalloped potatoes began to sound awfully good to me, so I wiped the saliva from my lips and told Michael that I would get a ham and cook it and share it with him, particularly the part with the bone.  (*I am no fool.)

So there I was, a victim of a fascinating serious of unrelated circumstances, adding "10 lb. ham, butt end, be sure to get the one on sale, and go to the meat department and not to the deli section",  to the list just under Matzoh Meal.  You all know my ideas and feelings about religion, but in spite of not believing in any, except for a bit of Zen,  I must confess that I am happy to report that there was no ominous thunderclap or shaking of the earth when I committed this possible blasphemous act.  And, before I knew it I was brushing a brown sugar, honey, mustard, clove, cider vinegar glaze on this monstrous lump of gorgeous pink meat baking in my oven.   Sigh.

There is not much more I can add except that, when I removed  said ham from said oven and carved off a sliver to taste, I nearly fainted from the joy of it.  Either it was the best ham in the universe prepared in the most perfect way or else it had just  been too damned long since I had cooked a ham.  Hell, even the cats devoured it and, somehow, I had always suspected they might be Jewish.  I guess I should have known from their penchant for fish, and not just on Fridays, that they were probably failed Catholics.

I am not quite sure what the moral of this story is, or if it even has a moral.  I do know that I love the way a tiny insignificant thing like the wretched task of cleaning out my freezer can lead me to such exquisite moments of delight.  (and I haven't even carried on about how wonderful the chicken salad was .....what a blessing it is to be a food fanatic...........tenks gott.....if and whoever and wherever you may be. )

And that's all I have to say today other than, "Happy Easter, Pesach or Batshit Crazy Sunday. You pays your money and you takes your choice.

"loneliness" a link to a brilliant blog.

 I am posting the following link to a magnificent blog by Peaceful Warrior which contains a Truth which could save us all, if we are wise enough to make use of it.  It has particular meaning for me because I am rarely lonely and I always thought it was a lack on my part.  Now I am thrilled to see that my addiction to hugs,  both actual and symbolic,  may actually be one of my virtues......

Hope you enjoy. 

Loneliness:

 http://acloudcuckooland.blogspot.com/

by Peaceful Warrior