Journal: The Eyes Have It (or Maybe It's the Toes)

 

Last Tuesday, I finished the checkerboard borders and sewed them on the Cross-Stitchin’ Gone Fishin’ quilt.  One more border, and it would be ready to load on my quilting frame.

I quit sewing a little earlier than usual in order to head for the feathers, since I would be getting up fairly early to prepare for a trip to the eye doctor in Lincoln for Botox treatments on my eyes.

This, however, was merely a waste of time, since I couldn’t sleep worth a hoot.

I lay on my right side.  My right shoulder itched.  I scrambled about, managed to reach the itch, and gave it a thorough scratching.  Settling back down, I discovered that my pillow had been exchanged for a bag of coal lumps.  I pummeled it into a fine dust, plumped it well, and laid my head on it.  However, it had now been transformed into diamonds.

I threw bag of coal dust, diamonds, and all on the floor and tried another pillow, this time lying on my left side.  My right hip hurt.  I reached up and rummaged through the headboard, found the roll-on Bio-Freeze, and applied it to the complaining hip.

My left ankle itched.  I clawed at it with my right toenails.  One of the metal arms that holds the quilt off my feet collapsed, squishing my toes with the weight of the quilt.  It’s not all that heavy, really; but my arthritic toes don’t want any weight on them.

I got up, walked to the foot of the bed, and repositioned metal frame and quilt.  Back in bed, I tried lying on my back, rolling a pillow under my neck.

I had allllmost fallen asleep when Larry began snoring.

“Hey!” I protested.  “You’re snoring!  Can you turn over?”

He obligingly turned over and immediately went back to sleep.  I considered smacking him with the bag of diamonds.

After multiple repetitions of this routine, I finally fell asleep – and Larry’s alarm went off.  He pressed the snooze button.  He slept ten minutes... his alarm went off again... he pressed the snooze button again... his alarm went off again...  He finally got up.

I rolled over, tucked yet another pillow under my head, poked an indentation into it for my ear to repose in, and fell back to sleep.  Five minutes later, my alarm went off.

Loup River

I do not press snooze alarms.  Ever.  I set my alarm for the time I want to get up, and when it goes off, I get up.  I do not at all appreciate having my last half-hour of sleep interrupted time and again by a stupid alarm.

I got up, made the bed ...  yeah, yeah, I know; you’re supposed to let it air out before you make it; but I didn’t have time to worry about such things.  Besides, I probably aired it out just fine, what with all the flapping around all night long.  I grabbed my clothes, and off I went to take a shower and get ready to go to Lincoln.

Platte River

Having skipped last month’s appointment because our insurance company will not pay for the treatment, my eyes have been quite troublesome for the last few weeks.  I could barely keep them open to dry and curl my hair; they wanted to squeeze tight shut.  I worried about driving to Lincoln.

I was very relieved and thankful when Larry called at 8:30 a.m. to say that he would be able to take some time off work and drive me to Lincoln.  Good thing I hadn’t smacked him with the diamonds, right?

Our route took us through David City, Valparaiso, and Ceresco before we got to Lincoln.

Ceresco is a little town of about 920 people just 20 miles north of Lincoln.  Back in the late 1990s when Larry owned a rebuilding shop and hauled vehicles, he sometimes hauled for Swanson Auto there in Ceresco. 

Anybody need a truck?  Here’s one they have for sale at the moment.  Other’n a little dab o’ rust and a crack or two in the windshield, she’s cherry!

I posted the picture online, and someone wrote, “I wouldn’t mine [sic] owning that car.  I’ll bet it just needs to be de_rusted [sic] and a new engine and wiring....plus brakes”

“You might have to adjust the headlights, too,” I told her.  “Right now it has strabismus.”

“Strabismus?” she queried.

“Misalignment of the eyes,” I clarified.

She now believes that word to be a legitimate description of a vehicle with misaligned headlights.  😆

It was a cloudy drive.  I don’t mind, since it’s easier on the eyes; but the pictures aren’t as nice.  We got to Eye Surgical Associates ten minutes early – unheard of, when Larry is taking me somewhere! 

There were not only daffodil leaves standing tall in front of the doctor’s office, there were also buds on them.  Autumn Joy sedum is coming up through the old growth in my own yard.  I will soon be working in the flower gardens!

I move in slow motion when I first get up; arthritic joints hurt.  A hot, pulsing shower helps.  This presents a dilemma during the summer, when I want to go out and work in the yard in the early morning hours.  I feel too stiff to go out and work in the yard upon first arising.  A nice, hot shower would make me feel like moving, but once I’ve had a nice, hot shower, why on earth would I want to go outside and work in the yard, getting all dirty and sweaty, huh huh huh???

In the doctor’s office was a young woman who had evidently worked there some time back, taken some time off, and come back to work.  For some reason, she thought she needed to swab my entire face with the alcohol before the doctor gave me the injections.  She was removing all my face cream!!  My face was going to feel all dry and yucky the rest of the day.  I should’ve said something sooner, but I hate to be ‘that crabby old woman’.  But when she started working her way down to my chin, I finally said in what I hoped was a non-judgmental, non-irritated tone, “He doesn’t give me any shots there.”

This seemed to annoy her, and she huffed, “Well, I have to... (unintelligible mutter mutter mutter)” – I couldn’t tell what she said.

She totally neglected my eyelids, where she should’ve been swabbing.  But thank goodness she did neglect them; with as much alcohol as she was using, she would’ve blinded me!

Acting a bit peevish at my remark, she quit with the swabbing and walked out of the room, and soon Dr. Clark was knocking on the door and entering.

Somehow, the doctor seemed to know what had happened, because, for the first time since I started going there, he picked up a swab himself, and very gently and carefully – much more gently and carefully than any of his nurses – wiped my eyelids, top and bottom, being careful not to get any in my eyes.  The nurses are never concerned if the alcohol swab touches the corners of my eyes.  Their job is to swab the deck, eyeballs and all!

How did the doctor know he needed to do this??

Another girl was trying to place the X’s on the face on the computer screen to mark the spots where the injections would be given, and she was habbin’ ze debbil’s own time trying to get those X’s to stay where she put them.  When she tried moving one X, the program would grab all the X’s (as if it was an image, with those ‘resize handles’ in the corners, like it does in various photo editing programs).

When I was explaining to Dr. Clark how my eyes have been, and what seemed to work best last year, he pulled up the pictures with the X’s from previous appointments – and he now thinks that twice he gave me no under-eye shots, because there are no X’s on the pictures!  Well, ♪ ♫ I was there when it happened, ♫  and I ought to know!  ♫ ♪

Siggghhhh...  I didn’t argue, since they would all think the proof was right there on the computer.  I could’ve of course pointed out the troubles I saw the girl having with me own leetle eyeballs, trying to place X’s properly; but... it doesn’t matter, really.  I just told him what I thought would be better, and he willingly put the shots where I suggested, in the full dose as I asked.

Leaving the doctor’s office, we headed north to Wahoo, where we got some food at the Runza.  I got a BLT Jr. and a chocolate shake.  Larry got... ummm... something.  😉

We drove north of town, parked beside Lake Wanahoo, and watched the ducks, geese, and one solitary American white pelican while we ate.

While fish, waterfowl, and other birds might find this place appealing, I have always thought it was a particularly ugly lake, what with all the old trees and snags left in it, supposedly for ‘habitat’ purposes. 

The Lake Wanahoo/Sand Creek Watershed Project, which opened on April 28, 2012, offers fishing, no-wake boating, tent and RV camping, hiking/biking, and picnicking.  The lake is stocked with largemouth bass, bluegill, blue catfish, crappie, northern pike, and walleye.  A hiking bridge links the east and west sides of the recreation area.  Mowed trails on the east side of the lake provide access to undeveloped wildlife habitat areas.  We saw an eagle’s huge nest in one of the big trees in that area.

Look how small the Canada goose looks next to that pelican!

By this time, there was a definite improvement in my eyes, even though the doctor had told me, as he always does, that the shots might not take effect for 5 to 7 days.

While in the doctor’s office, I had missed a call from Nebraska Quilt Company, so I returned the call.  They told me my Bernina was ready to be picked up.

Larry looked at the clock on the dash.  “I have enough time to detour to Fremont to get the machine,” he said, so we headed northeast. 

From Wahoo to our house is 63 miles.  It’s 30 miles from Wahoo to Fremont, and 54 miles from Fremont to our house; so the detour to Fremont gave us an extra 21 miles.  But it saved me the 108-mile drive to Fremont and back again.

Before leaving the store, I gave my machine a try.  I pulled out the quilt ‘sandwich’ with Prairie Points and binding that I had tucked into the case, slid it under the presser foot, stepped on the pedal – and it sewed along for several inches without once taking a stitch.

I had already suspected this might happen, since I saw no new stitching on that practice piece, and figured they had not tried it on anything that caused the trouble.

Bald eagles' nest

“It’s still skipping,” I said, and, feeling indignant, added, “It did not do this until I brought it in for servicing a year ago.  I’m very sorry I ever brought it in!”

And then...  one of the ladies who had helped plug the machine in pointed out, “It’s not threaded.”

Oh.

((...blush...))

“Sorry, sorry!” I said, laughing.  “I’ll bet it helps, if I thread it!”

I did so, then gave it another try.

I slid the fabric back under the presser foot, stepped on the pedal – and away it went, sewing perfectly.  I looked at the bobbin thread.  Perfect. 

“It does work better when it’s threaded!” I exclaimed, and the ladies laughed.

And then they informed me that I owed them $130.

If you’ll remember, I paid $130 the last time I took it in, even though the owner of the store had told me I would not need to pay them anything, since the problem had happened after they had serviced it.  However, I knew the girl had spent a while working on it, and the owner wasn’t anywhere around, so I paid it without saying anything.

Not this time.

I said, “This is the third time I have brought this machine in, and the first time was only for routine servicing; it was working perfectly until then.  After that, it skipped stitches.  [The owner] told me I would not need to pay for the work when I brought it back, but I was charged, and I paid it, because I knew the woman had spent a couple of hours trying to fix it.  But I don’t think I should have to pay again for something that happened here, and was not fixed last time.”

The lady nodded, said, “Yes, I agree,” and spoke to another woman who I think is the co-owner with her husband. 

She didn’t even pause, just pulled the ticket off the case, tore it in half, and then deleted the ticket on their computer.  “There you go,” she said.  “We intend to do right by our customers.”

(Well, then, they shouldn’t’ve put the ticket on in the first place, right?)

But I thanked her, and then, to show my appreciation, I went hunting for backing for the Gone Fishin’ quilt.  Finding nothing in the ‘Sale’ section, I found a piece I thought would match in a ‘Winter Wonderland’ series.  I really wanted to buy a bunch of the coordinating fabrics; there were beautiful scenes of mountains and animals and birds, and lovely matching greens and blues and browns... but that stuff was $13.46/yard!  And I had to get 4 ½ yards for backing.  So that was all I got.

We got home at about a quarter ’til four that afternoon.  Larry went back to work to make up for lost time.  He was still at a job in Palmer, 55 miles to the west, at 7:00 p.m., so he wouldn’t make it home in time for church.

I felt like a frizzle-frazzle by then, and still couldn’t keep my eyes open very long, so I decided to stay home.  I’m not supposed to do anything strenuous, or anything that might strain my eyes, and not supposed to lean over much after the Botox injections, so I was better off at home in any case.

I did put together the front and back pieces for a pillow cover to match Ian’s Gone Fishin’ quilt.  And with these last somewhat mismatched pieces, I have used up the layer cake Victoria gave me.

I’m always pleased when I use up all of a collection of coordinating fabrics in a project.  I used to try my bestest to use up all the fabric I’d purchased for, oh, say, a dress for one of the girls.  They often wound up with one too many ruffles; but Mama done got the fabric used up!

I used the older Bernina 180 to make those pillow covers, rather than the newer 200/730, because although Larry had carried it upstairs for me when we got home, he’d set it on the floor, since the 180 was in the way.  When I went upstairs, I happily started to switch machines.  I started to pick one up – and my head promptly set up a thumping.

Oh.  Yes.  Quite so.  I wasn’t supposed to lift anything heavy.  I wasn’t even supposed to lean over much.

So I left the 730 on the floor (right in my way!), and went on sewing on the 180.

By the time Larry finally got home that night, I totally forgot to ask him to switch my machines around.  He remembered the next day, though.

A friend and I were discussing wildlife photography, and the various sounds one hears when hiking about taking pictures.  Here’s a set of frustrating nature sounds (are you familiar with them?):  “Ribbit, ribbit, ribbit.”  (...sneak, sneak, sneak...)  >>steps on stick<<  (CRACK) “Splooosh!” 💦

Thursday morning I awoke and discovered that I had slept eight hours straight through, without even turning over once.  Unheard of.  Even on good nights I wake up every couple of hours, and usually get a total of about seven hours, tops.

I paid some bills for Loren, and then filled out several forms because the new owners of Prairie Meadows – now called Cedar Creek of Prairie Meadows – are switching to a different pharmacy for their residents.  About the time I thought I was done, I got an email with yet more forms to fill out for him.  I filled out several pages online – but the managers at the home did not seem to have access to them, and wrote the next day requesting those same forms.  So I printed them, signed them, and tucked them in an envelope to take to the home Saturday.

That done, it was time to give the Bernina 730 a try!  I rummaged up some gray fabric from my meager stash (it really looks meager, when I’m hunting for fabric suitable for boys! – and I have 13 boys’ quilts to go!), and attached the final border on Ian’s quilt.  I gave it a good run sewing that border on, over all those seams of the checkerboard pieces.  

Annnnd... it didn’t skip once!!!  Not once.  I’m so glad!  The tension is perfect, too.

Once the last border was on the quilt, I sewed the backing together, then loaded it on the quilting frame with Quilters’ Dream wool batting.  

It was bedtime; I was too tired to continue.  I would start quilting it the next day.

But wouldn’t you know, it was another mostly sleepless night.  This time, it was Larry’s fault.  It’s always nice to have someone to blame.  I complain way louder if he keeps me awake, than if I just plain can’t sleep.

Friday, I called Nebraska Quilt Company to tell them the Bernina is working perfectly, and I’m so happy and relieved, because I really love this machine.  When they hear my name, and I say that I’m the one who picked up my machine a couple of days ago, their voices change, and you can tell they’re thinking, Oh, no; what’s wrong now...  And then they act so surprised to learn that I’m calling with good news, and thanking them!  😃

One more appliance report:  the PurSteam 1800-watt iron with LCD Screen, Nonstick Ceramic Soleplate, Auto Shutoff, Anti-Drip, and Self-Cleaning Feature that I ordered a few days ago was sitting on our front porch waiting for me when we got home from Lincoln and Fremont Wednesday. 

It’s perhaps the nicest iron I’ve ever had.  I do like bells and whistles!  😄  It makes a variety of little beeps when I turn it on, when I adjust the settings (there are a lot of settings), and again when it gets to the proper temperature.  And, while I am not fond of the auto-shutoff feature, it does make a series of small beeps to tell me it’s about to go into ‘Pause’ mode, so I can go move it a little in order to circumvent that. 

The anti-drip function at low temperatures actually works; I discovered this when I accidentally pulled the steam trigger before it had completely warmed up.

Its continuous steam function works well, as does the ‘burst of steam’ – though it’s nothing at all like the burst of steam from my Rowenta steam station.  And it runs out of water quickly (I’m accustomed to the large separate tank for the Rowenta).  I’m really missing that steam station!  Gotta get the bad part ordered.  But in the meantime, the PurSteam iron is very nice.

As for the Botox injections?  The doctor always says, “This will take effect in 5-7 days.”  But I was noticing a decided improvement before the end of that very day.  In fact, my eyes were better by the time we got to Fremont.  It was nice to be able to walk through the rows of fabric without having to stop and wait until my eyes opened up so I could see what I was looking at!  Thursday they were much better than they had been, and Friday they were even better than they’d been the previous day. 

Today they are somewhat irritated and troublesome from not closing completely when I blink or sleep; but... I will do my best to cope with it, and still be thankful that my eyes stay open so I can continue to drive, and quilt, and walk through stores and church without running into li’l ol’ ladies, small children, and walls.  😄

I spent several hours quilting on Ian’s Gone Fishin’ quilt that day.

Saturday, my blind friend Penny, after reading my remarks about holding out the back side of one’s hand to an animal that might be leery, told the following story:

 

I always put my hand out back first – in self-defense.  I need the FRONT of my hand more than I need the back, in case whoever I am petting has not figured out I am all gentleness and love, sweetness and light.

My mother and dad had gotten a bowl of turtles; they were on the living room table, or somewhere; anyhow, mom wanted to introduce me to a turtle.  They were wet, of course, and small, and shelly.  She placed the turtle on the BACK of my hand, saying, “It won’t hurt you.”

Now she had not made inquiry into the veracity of the claim from the Turtle Chamber of Commerce, or whatever slowpoke society verifies these factoids.  That particular member of the Cheluh-uh-nee-uh-uh-day Family had not heard of the policy of non-aggression or peace-at-any-price protest movement.  Maybe the turtle was arch-conservative and figured I was a leftist.  I don’t know. 

But the turtle stuck out its head and gripped a piece of Penny between its little serrated beak halves and held on for dear life. 

I was, of course, indignant and wailing; my mother, horrified and concerned, but unsure of what to do to free what was left of my hand from the ‘monster’s’ jaws.  Finally, it must have gotten bored and let go on its own.  There.  After that, I was a mite distrustful of anything smaller than I was.

To give you an idea of the size of these reptilian turtle-sauruses, if you put the point of your thumb against the point of your next finger, terrapin would have fit into that space.

 

That ‘Cheluh-something-or-other’ was referring to the category of turtle species previously known as Chelonia, and often referred to as Chelonians.

The young girls who lived at our house when I was very little (my parents were what would now be called ‘foster parents’ to a number of young people from their late teens into their early 20s) had a tiny pet turtle.  I believe it died and they got another, though no one would ever verify that fact to small me.  The second turtle didn’t last too long, either. 

But while it did, I was extremely intrigued and delighted with its little water slide in its little container, where it could presumably climb to the top and then slide down in a semi-circle, wheeeee!  Whether or not the turtle was extremely intrigued and delighted is another matter.  Nobody asked him, and he did not say.

This is from the Center for Disease Control and Prevention:  “The sale of tiny pet turtles has been banned in the U.S. since 1975 because of the number of illnesses they cause and the risk to children.  Although any turtle can carry germs, tiny turtles are especially risky because children are more likely to handle them and get sick.  Pet turtles of any size can carry Salmonella germs in their droppings even if they look healthy and clean.  These germs can easily spread to their bodies, tank water, and anything in the area where they live and roam.”

We once found a large snapping turtle about the size of a dinner plate crossing a road somewhere, a little the worse for wear.  His shell was cracked; he’d probably been run over.  We brought it home and put it in the children’s wading pool, along with a heap of dirt and vegetation on one side, and water on the other.  And then it was my job (or course it was) to dig slugs and catch bugs and pull up more vegetation for the thing to eat.  I didn’t let the kids feed him unless I was right there, for fear that turtle would snap off a digit or two.  He was certainly big enough to do so.

We let the critter entertain the kids (and make work for their mother) for a few days until he seemed healthier (though none of us were turtle nurses), and then we carted him off to a spot near the river and turned him loose.

We purposely set him down aimed away from the river, just to show the children what he would do.  It was so funny, watching him lift his head, turn it this way and that, and then turn himself right around and make for the river, with as much pell-mell haste as any large turtle can have.  Larry picked him up a couple more times and turned him the opposite direction – but every time, he lifted his head, sniffed the air, and turned straight toward the river.  Did you know that instead of having nostrils, turtles have bumps under their chins and a specific tissue in their nasal cavities that detects air and waterborne odorants?  Furthermore, they even have a strong sense of smell underwater.

Oh, look!  I found the picture of Teensy watching birds and squirrels on my laptop.

Saturday was a bright and sunny day, 52°.  That’s cool enough that a long-sleeved sweater might be in order, but it’s really warm in Prairie Meadows, especially in Loren’s room.  If we are in his room very long, I turn the heat down, and sometimes even turn the air conditioner on.  But mostly I dress in cool clothes when I visit him, even in the dead of the winter, so I don’t roast to death.  If I walk into his room and exclaim, “It’s a blast furnace in here!”, Loren always laughs.

Loren has one of those wall units like you see in motel rooms – and he regularly turns it up past 80!

A few days ago, I wrote this to one of our cousins:  “I have been impressed at the very good meals served at Prairie Meadows.  Funny how, after being so fussy about food for so many years, Loren now eats what he is given without complaints.  Maybe the medication they give him keeps him happier about the food?  After his wife Janice died in 2014, I took him a meal almost every day, except for a couple of years from 2018-2020 when he was married to Norma.”

He made a liar of me the very next time I visited.

He was in the dining room by the time I got there that afternoon.  I pulled a chair up to the end of the table as he greeted me, “I didn’t know you were coming today! 

The woman across the table from him drank all her juice and all her water (she has to have them in sippy cups) – and then she said to Loren (so quietly it was hard to hear her), “You think I don’t know you stole my juice.  But I know, all right!”  She glared at him.  “And it’s not funny!”

Loren looked at her for a while, then looked at me.  “She can’t hear,” he informed me.  😆

“Wonder what hearing has to do with stealing juice 🤣” pondered Lydia when I told her this story.

“Maybe he couldn’t hear her,” I said.  “That means she’s deaf, right?”

At one point, he started to worry about it a bit, and I thought he was going to give her his juice, so I hastily told him, “She had some.”

Then she glared at me.

Loren was back in his “all this food tastes terrible and is giving me the cold shudders” stage.  That was the first time I’ve actually seen that, ever since he’s been there.  The food looked good, and smelled good!  At least, to me it did.

He didn’t like the salad everyone had been given as a first course.  He usually says he likes it.  Next, there were meatballs on brown rice, with gravy.  He didn’t like that, either.  Maybe he remembered that he’d once informed me he couldn’t stand rice?  Some years ago, however, he said he loved rice.  There was also street corn, and it had that ‘grilled’ look, with black flecks on it.

“This food,” he said, and shuddered.

I asked, “What’s wrong with it?”

He pointed out the black flecks on the corn.  “Burned!” he said.

I explained, “It was grilled, I think, probably with the meat.”

“Bthpptthhrrrrrththth!”  (spelling his, not mine)  He shivered, half-closing one eye.

“What would you rather have?” I asked.

“Ice cream!” he answered, after a bit of thought.  He grinned.

I laughed, “You think that would be good for you?” and I reminded him of Lydia when she was little, and I was trying to teach her what things were good for her, and what things were not.

She’d stare at a bowl of vegetables and say in a done-wrong tone, “This isn’t very good for me!”  Then later she’d take a bite of ice cream, beam at everyone, and say, “I can really tell this is good for me!”

“I wonder what’s going on with him?” said Victoria.

“Maybe he spit out one of his happy pills earlier?” I suggested.  ((snerk))  “No idea.  He’s not getting thinner, though.”  Then, “You remember his periodic meltdowns over the food I would take him?” I asked.  She did.

“I’m glad I don’t have to worry about it anymore,” I told her.

One time in the last days before Loren moved to the home, he was fussing about his food, and I interrupted with that poem in the Winnie-the-Pooh book #4: Whatever’s the matter with Mary Jane?  She’s screaming, and she won’t eat her rice pudding again!

He stopped fussing and stared.  Then when the poem ended, he tried going back to fussing, and I told him that the only thing left for him to do was to put his bowl upside down over his head.

So he hushed up.  😆

After leaving the home, I went to Standing Bear Lake – this time, driving in on the south side.  Last week, I went to the north side.

There were a lot of ducks and geese on the water.  The new docks and slipways are nice.

On the route home, there’s a spot near the little town of Rogers where my GPS announces, “In a quarter mile, stay straight to stay on Route 30, then stay straight to stay on Route 30.”  A quarter of a mile later, it says, “Stay straight to stay on Route 30, then stay straight to stay on Route 30.”  Five seconds later, “Stay straight to stay on Route 30.”

Yeah, yeah, there was no other choice, except for driving through a cornfield, maybe.  This happens in that same spot, e.v.e.r.y...s.i.n.g.l.e...t.i.m.e.  This time, I wrote a note on the matter to the GPS app.  Reckon it’ll do any good?

I stopped at the Love’s Truck Stop in Schuyler and got myself a cranberry walnut spinach salad and blueberry parfait.  I chose a southwestern chicken salad and blueberry parfait for Larry.  My salad was scrumptious – until I put a piece of chicken gristle in my mouth.  ((gaggg))  😝😜😛

That night I was just about ready to head to bed, and Larry had just finished his shower, when I began wondering where in the world the strong smell of... what? kerosene?  No... propane?  No... what was it?  Then he opened the bathroom door and I knew:  It was bleach.  He’d been using the Clorox Mold & Mildew Remover!  He thought it was the stuff I used to clean the tub, and decided to do me a favor.

Aarrgghh, making me croak is not doing me a favor!  For everyday freshening, I spray the tub and shower curtains with lavender daily shower cleaner.  When the tub has soap scum on it, I use Scrub Free Soap Scum Remover (and even with that, I have to spray it quickly and run from the room).  Not Clorox Mold & Mildew Remover.  I use that stuff only behind the toilet tank where it gets mildewy, and I can’t reach – and I use it only when I am going to be escaping upstairs to my sewing room.

He’d been so generous with the stuff, the entire main floor of the house absolutely reeked.  The bedroom, which is next to the bathroom, was unbearable.  So... despite the cold night, we opened windows and the front door, and turned up the furnace. 

It didn’t take too awfully long before the place was bearable again.

As soon as I forget how my throat, nose, and eyes were burning, and how my head was pounding, I’ll thank him for cleaning the tub so nicely.  😏  Bless his heart.

Sunday morning at 7:50 a.m., it was only 25°, with a wind chill of -1°!  By a quarter after nine, it had made it up to 29°, with a wind chill of 9°. 

After church last night, we went to Hy-Vee.  We weren’t in the store long before Kurt and Victoria and the children came in, and of course we had to have a visit as if they were long-lost friends.

As we parted from them after a little chat, Carolyn and Violet had stepped up on the end of the cart, which Kurt was pushing.  Willie was in the seat.  I put my arms around the girls and said, “Now, you girls drive carefully, and don’t run over your father.”

He played into the fun by stepping backward a few paces, then letting the cart handle bump into his stomach.  “Oooof!!”

Carolyn and Violet were laughing, of course, and Willie laughed, too.

When we got home, we had chicken and dumpling soup made in Hy-Vee’s kitchen, some goat cheese (cheddar, and it has a quite strong flavor), Siggi’s Icelandic raspberry yogurt (I had high hopes, but it tastes like Greek to me, bleah), and Amana white cheddar cheese curds (mmm, yummy).

Victoria sent pictures of Willie and Arnold, all dressed in their soft sleepers and ready for bed.  Willie is giving Baby Arnold a kiss.  He really loves his baby brother.

Victoria knitted that soft blanket.

It was only 30° here at noon – but at least we didn’t have a wind chill of 0° or thereabouts!  Today, for a change, we actually had a bit of a ‘heat index’:  the ‘real feel’ was 34°, thanks to the brightly shining sun.  The birds were singing like anything.  There were several red-winged blackbirds at the suet feeders, and now and then they gave up their space to a common grackle.  The American goldfinches are starting to turn a brighter yellow.

While taking a shower yesterday morning, the second toe on my right foot was itching.  I absentmindedly scratched it with the heel of my other foot – and then it hurt!  It went on itching and hurting and swelling more and more throughout the day.  By last night, it looked like a rash was forming.  This is the same toe that had some sort of rash on it, nothing too serious, a few months ago.  I put a drop of helichrysum oil on it each morning until it went away.

This time, though, it seems different – that is to say, worse.  Last time, it neither itched nor hurt.

I looked up various foot problems, and decided that what I have is dyshidrotic eczema.  What I needed to put on it was Cortizone 10 cream.  We have some of that, I thought, and went to get it.

But evidently someone had used it up since the last time I saw it; there was none to be found.  I put on Ivarest instead, hoping it would curtail the itch.

It did practically nothing.  Sleep was difficult last night (especially since Larry seemed bent on jouncing and kicking vigorously or jerking on the covers or snoring every time I fell asleep).

This morning that rash with its possible small blisters had turned into one quite large blister, and not only is the whole toe swollen and red, but the other toes and the forefoot where the phalanges join the metatarsals, whatever that top part of the foot is called, is swollen and red, too.  I can find diagrams showing all the bones in the foot, but no simple ones telling what the various parts of the foot are called, other than one saying ‘hidfoot’ (they mean ‘hindfoot’ – The Skeletal System website should hire a better editor), midfoot, and forefoot.

Having no Cortizone 10, I checked to see if there were any essential oils that might help this condition.  There are:  tea tree oil and geranium oil.  I have both.  I tried a few drops of tea tree oil, since that’s the one at the top of the list.  I cannot say if it helped.

Larry came home around 2:30 p.m., bringing me Cortizone 10 cream.  I’ve applied it several times now, with no discernible improvement just yet.

Amazing how one small toe can make things difficult and miserable for an entire body!

My eyes feel like there’s sand in them, which often happens for a few days after my Botox injections, when my eyelids are not going completely shut when I blink or sleep.  I have the vaporizer on and have used two different kinds of eyedrops, to little avail.  My troublesome tailbone is hurting because I’m sitting at my computer more than I’m standing, since the toe and foot hurt worse and swell more when I’m standing.

Oookay, that does it.  I’m giving in and taking some Tylenol.

At least the dishes are done and we have Cream of Potato soup and potato salad from Hy-Vee’s kitchen, so I don’t have to cook anything.  We have some scrumptious raisin walnut Artisan bread from their bakery, too.  I had a thick slice for breakfast, toasted, buttered, and honeyed.  Mmmm.

If all else fails, eat!  (But let’s not get carried away, hmmm?)

,,,>^..^<,,,          Sarah Lynn          ,,,>^..^<,,,