I guess we have Covid

I assumed I had the flu, which I am somewhat familiar with from the past when I either went to school or was working at a job:  fever, weakness, sore throat, a little achy in places.  On the first night of the fever, I kissed Cliff on the lips before I went to bed, and as soon as I did it, I told him, "Oh, I shouldn't have done that since I have a fever and all."

"I'd just as soon have the kiss," he said.  Today he thinks differently.

Now I'm on the mend, and he feels a tiny bit better too, although like all men who get germs directly from their wives, his Covid is about 10 times worse than mine.  A while ago we finally got out that old Covid test from 2022 and figured it out.  There was only a small pink bit on the right end of that swab that tells the tale, but according to directions, that is still a positive.

We had appointments to go to the cataract doctor: mine tomorrow and Cliff's the next day.  I called and told them we have Covid, and made other appointments.  Meanwhile my daughter and her husband paid us a visit Saturday.  I told her I had the flu... Cliff hadn't gotten sick yet, but Saturday night he coughed non-stop and he really was hurting all day Sunday.  He also has chills, apparently, because last night he had his overalls, a coat, his cap, with a blanket over all that; I looked at the thermostat and it was 82°.  

They've had covid more than once because they work among other humans.  I sure hope we didn't give it to them again.

I volunteered to be part of a covid study some college is doing a year or two ago.  They call occasionally and ask me about the vaccines I've had and if I've had covid, or if I've been in the hospital for any reason.  It's always no on all counts, but so far I've gotten $150 in Amazon gift cards.  Finally I can tell the lady I've had Covid.   

Barn cats?

Day before yesterday old Mama Kitty didn't show up.  I went outside several times looking for her, but she never showed.  I assumed she was killed by whatever creature hurt my Blue cat, and he's gone.  

If you did a search for Mama Kitty on my blog, you would find half-a-dozen times I thought she had died.  Once she was gone about a week, and it wasn't to find a lover, because I had neutered her by then.

This morning here she was, with spiderwebs on one ear; maybe she found a safer place to sleep... who knows.  

I don't ever want another inside-outside cat.  But I saw something on Facebook that made me consider a different way to have a cat.  In fact, it's the only way I ever had cats, most of my life.  Barn cats!

Anyone local looking for barn cats? We have 3 available - 1 yellow Tom, 1 cute tabby and white female, and 1 black (male I believe). They are feral and were spayed/neutered yesterday and will be looking for new homes.

Free, but if you'd like to donate something to help continue the efforts of getting the rest of the colony captured/fixed and rehomed it would always be welcome

Will also need homes for a few that are getting done next weekend, if you are interested please let me know.

Cats are located in Odessa (35 min east of KC), but we can arrange a place to meet once they are healed up and ready to go to their new homes. 

Yes, something might hurt them.  They may die.  But I won't be heartbroken if it happens.  You'd be surprised how many barn cats I've lost in my life.  Of course it makes me sad, but life goes on just fine.  A neighbor dog killed one mama kitty, years ago.  We had an older neighbor lady once who fed all the cats that came around, and one of my cats decided to move over there.  

Most of my missing cats just disappeared, and I never knew what happened; so if I would start feeling sad about it, I'd just tell myself somebody probably took it in, or it ran away... and I did a good thing, trying to give it a home. 

If I can get a couple of them to stay, I'll have a replacement or two for Mama Kitty when she dies.  She's 14 years old now, half blind and half deaf.  But she seems to be hanging in there. 

For at least ten years of her life, Mama Kitty went with Cliff and me on our walks in the pasture, and stayed right with us every step.

Apparently I have a cold

I really don't have a lot of colds any more, probably because I don't go a lot of places.  The two churches I attend don't have many attendees, so I'm not sitting with a crowd either place.  But I guess I do have a cold, although it started out with a low (101) fever and I felt weak and grumpy for two days, so I thought it might be the flu.  Then I wondered if it might be the start of Covid.  We've have Covid tests in the house since 2022, but when I looked at all the instructions, and also had Cliff read them to me, I didn't care what I had.  There are too words in the instructions to suit me, and the print is so small I can't see what it says anyhow.  And today, the third day, all those symptoms are gone, and I am left with only a raging sore throat.  That's better than feeling tired all the time; aspirin or Tylenol eases the pain.

I have not been enthralled with any of the books I've read lately.  

Although The River by Peter Heller at least held my interest and had a plot that kept me turning the pages.  I did sort of speed read over the descriptions of canoes and camping gear and such.  I will warn you that it has an unhappy ending.

Night Watch, by Jayne Anne Phillips, is a Pulitzer Prize winner that takes place after the civil war.  It may be that those things happened, but it just didn't ring true to me.  I learned a lot about a lunatic asylum in West Virginia though.  Very depressing. 

West:  A Novel by Carys Davies: When a mule-breeder reads in a newspaper that huge, ancient bones have been discovered in Kentucky, he decides to leave his daughter in Pennsylvania with his sister and go dinosaur hunting .  I read it all, but didn't care for it.  Actually, all four of these books are depressing.  

The Vaster Wilds: Lauren Groff: A servant girl escapes from a colonial settlement in the wilderness (Jamestown).   Here's what Amazon says about it.  "She carries nothing with her but her wits, a few possessions, and the spark of god that burns hot within her."  It seems to me she just keeps doing the same things over and over.  And then she dies.

And now I'm reading What This Comedian Said Will Shock You by Bill Maher, who is telling me what's wrong with Republicans, Democrats, and the world. 

Maybe I should just stick to watching television.

How I got my sister

My father was the oldest of five boys, and he had one sister.  His mother died having a baby that also died.  He went to school through the fifth grade.  Sometime soon after that, I imagine, he went to work, but the only work available was farm work, which paid very little.  He would have still been living with his brothers, sisters, and father who, from what I have heard, probably let the children take care of themselves.  In 1927, someone's father informed him someone had gotten his daughter in the family way, so he agreed to marry her.  She gave birth to a little girl at the age of 15 or 16, and soon was pregnant again, but died having her next child, a boy who survived.

So my father had two babies with nobody to take care of them while he worked.  A couple of relatives took the infant boy, but they didn't want the girl.  Finally my dad's only sister, Gladys, dropped out of school to take care of the girl.

The only picture we have of Maxine's mother

My dad met my mom when both of them were working on the same farm, and they married in 1932.  His daughter came with the package, but the couple who had taken the little boy at his birth refused to let him go.  Mother always told me how happy she was to have a little girl when she married:  When my mom's dresses wore out, she would cut them down and use that material to make dresses for Maxine.

My parents with my sister

This was in the Great Depression, and Maxine told me Saturday that she still remembers how hard it was to get enough food at the time.  Winters were the worst, she said, because there wasn't much work for hired hands in winter.

My mother had one pregnancy that I heard about long before my birth, but it was a premature birth.  In 1937, she carried a boy that went the full term, but when the baby "dropped", he was choked by the umbilical cord.

Finally, in 1944, I appeared on the scene.  I was a colicky baby, and my colic lasted all day long, I am told.  However, they were so glad to finally have a baby that they just took turns walking the floor with me. 

I have often told Maxine that she's the only person still living who changed my diaper and carried me around when I was bawling.

You might have noticed in yesterday's blog that we don't look at all alike.  I think she took after her mom, and I know I took after mine.  But I've long ago given up saying she's my half-sister, because she feels like a full sister to me.

Yesterday was a good day

My sister lived her whole life in the Kansas City area until a few years ago.  She has moved twice, when her only child moved.  Anyone who knows her and her family would know that her son and daughter-in-law are the ones who want what's best for her and have her interest in mind, so when they moved, so did she:  from Kansas City to Mcpherson, Kansas, and then on to Oklahoma City.  She is surrounded by grandchildren and great-grandchildren now.

There was a time when Cliff and I would travel to see her most years after she moved, but it's a long drive for a man 79 years old, one who occasionally gets vertigo at the worst times.  Each year her son brings the whole family, including my sister, to Kansas City to watch the Royals play baseball.  They rent a big vrbo or airbnb house with many rooms and restrooms, and Debra, my sister's daughter-in-law, cooks meals for everybody.  A year ago, my sister called and invited me to visit them on Saturday of their 3-day Kansas City visit.  I was so happy to know I'd get to see her again.

The only trouble was that when there are so many people in a house talking, we neither one knew what people were saying... so I really didn't get to talk to my sister too much.  At one point this year, Maxine called me and suggested that this year, when the others all went to pick apples at an orchard, she would stay with us at the house, so we could all talk and hear one another. 

Let me tell you, that turned out to be the best present that family ever gave me.  My sister helped raise me for the first two or three years of my life.  And after she got married, I still spent plenty of time with her as a child.  Her husband was a nice, gentle man, and I just always loved Larry, her son, and still do.  

I think maybe some of the children would rather have had their grandma-great with them at the orchard; but Debra, if you're reading this, tell those kids they can't imagine what it was worth to me, just to be able to talk about old times and be able to hear what was said.  They gave me an early Christmas present. 

Maxine is 96 years old, and seems to have no health issues at all, although she told me she does things a lot slower now, and rests a lot.  We are total opposites in so many ways:  She did everything right all her life: a great housekeeper and planner, a good Christian, a hard worker helping to put their son through college.  I'm a slob who doesn't plan much of anything, I just take whatever comes, hoping things will be alright.

But I sure do love my sister.

Cliff and me in the middle, Maxine on the right at 96 years old, and her two grandchildren.  Such good and gentle people.

Oh, and this next picture will show you how many people came to Kansas City for the ball game.  My sister, of course, was back at the house with us.  

I hope the rain doesn't come back until after their baseball game is over.  

Someone asked me about T-bills

I learned something on Facebook a year or so ago: I found out there was something called T-bills.  Two of my friends were discussing how small an interest you get on a savings account, and one mentioned T-bills.  I had no idea what they were talking about, so I searched with Google and "sort of" figured out what it was.  The way I see it, you loan some money to the government to use for three months, six months, nine months, or a year.  At the time I found out about T-bills, the interest was well over 5%, which is, in a way, better than what CD's were doing.  I've never been an investor except when I had a 401K at Kohls DC, but when I found out I could get 5% on an amount as low as $100 without going through a bank or investment advisor, I was sort of curious about it.  Wouldn't it be fun to invest $100 dollars to see how things worked out?  Even if I did something crazy and lost it, it wouldn't kill me, and if everything worked like it should, I'd get it back in three months with interest.

So I made an account at Treasurydirect.gov. and invested 100 bucks for three months, just to make sure I could do it.  The money came directly out of our bank on whatever day I scheduled it for.  I did tell Cliff what I was doing.  He wasn't very happy about it, but I told him I just wanted to see how it worked.  Three months later, my money was back in the bank with a tiny bit of interest.  Five and-a-half interest on a hundred dollars for three months obviously won't make you or break you, but that's the way I learned how this all works.  

Since then I've put larger amounts in and left them longer.  We are living on Social Security, so I try to space the T-bills so we will get the money back when we need it most, like for auto insurance, or propane in the winter.  When a little extra cash is left at the end of the month, I put it in a savings account.   When there's enough in savings to buy a $500 T-bill, I get one.  I'm not trying to get rich; I'm just trying to get some extra money coming in when we most need it. 

You can't get your money back from T-bills until the time is up and it comes back into your bank account, unless you go through an advisor to do it for you. He will try to sell your T-bill to somebody else and give you your money back without some of the interest your money earned.     

Here's something you should know if you want to play around with T-bills like I do.  When CDs are up, T-bills are often down, and visa versa; CDs have compound interest, unlike T-bills; but then, you can't get a CD for $100, either.

I don't know if anybody else cares about this, but a friend wanted to know.  It isn't the first time I've written a blog entry for just one person.  

My husband was right

Blue had been suffering since Saturday morning.  We were told to get to the veterinary surgeon early this morning so the poor guy could get his amputation.  

I don't understand why, since we talked to them yesterday and were told it would happen today, but suddenly we were told it would have to be tomorrow.  

That cat has suffered for days, and enough is enough.  If I had listened to Cliff, we would have put him out of his misery quickly; it's my fault we went on, so I'm responsible for those four days of suffering.

I have always tried to be honest with the people who read my blog, and I'm not going to stop now.  We do have enough of a rainy day fund to have gone to any vet around and gotten his surgery done by Monday, for sure, even at $2,000.  Cliff would have done it, but not happily.  I thought if I could get it done cheaper, it would be a good compromise so Cliff would feel better about it.  

I have a dear friend in Virginia who begged me to let her pay for Blue's surgery; I'm sure she would have meant it as a gift for me, but Cliff wouldn't have understood that, and it would have made him feel less than a man.  So I'm sorry, Joanna.  But one reason we've been married for 58 years is that we know one another well enough to try and keep the peace.  And I love my husband much more than all the pets I've ever had put together.  

So we put my Blue cat out of his misery.  I only wish we had done it sooner.  As much as I'd love to find a little kitten and try again, I don't think I'll have another cat, because I don't want a house cat and neither does Cliff.  I'm not a good enough housekeeper to keep up with the hair, and another inside/outside cat would just be fair game for predators.  I'm too old to watch pets die before their time.  

I'm glad I have my dog Gabe though.  He always knows when something is going on with me and does his best to stay near me when I'm sad.  

I don't expect everybody to agree with what we've done, but please be kind.  All of us are doing the best we can.

Bad morning

Today Cliff and I were getting ready to go to his reunion, so I got up and made some Old Settler's beans to take in the crock pot.  At six o'clock I got my Gabe, my dog, up, fed him, and went out with him like always.  I also open up the garage then; the cats like it in there, and that's where there food is, up high where the grandson's dogs can't get it.  

Blue the cat is always there waiting for his breakfast when I go out, but he wasn't around this morning.  I noticed Gabe tracking, nose to the ground, around the front of the garage, then around a corner, on past the water hydrant still sniffing, and around the end of our trailer house where my flowers are blooming.  Strange.  While I was out I called for Blue several times, but he didn't come.  Shortly after that, the grandson next door let his two dogs out.  When they came back near our place those dogs were tracking the very same places Gabe had, and they even went in the flowerbed.  The flowers are dying from drought anyway, but the dogs were sure interested in the flower bed.  I finally told them to go home, looked closely myself, and found a clue.  There was blood on a leaf.

So I knew Blue was in trouble someplace, if not dead.  I was afraid he was under the back porch:  When cats are sick or injured, they try to hide and don't want to be messed with.  I came back inside and told Cliff Blue was hurt somewhere.  I began to get ready to go down to the reunion at Lake of the Ozarks, but I sure hated to.  I went outside once more, and this time I found my cat in the flowers, hiding.  At first I thought he was dead, but I picked him up and he sort of tried to get up; one of his back legs was very obviously broken.  I put him in the inside back porch, shut the back door, and watched him lay down on a rug.

I called the two closest veterinarians to us, but they were swarmed and told me to call a place in Lee Summit that takes emergencies at all hours.  I called, but nobody was there and I got a message for me to go to Overland Park, Kansas.  I sure hated it that we ruined going to Cliff's reunion, plus him having to mess with me and my cat.  In the back of my mind I already knew that a broken leg would cost more than I was willing to give, and I had in mind the most I would spend on my cat, thanks to a couple of T-bills that I will be getting back soon.  We have nothing but Social Security to live on, and it's plenty until something like this happens.

Sure enough, when the doctor came to tell me what needed to be done, the cost was over my limit.  She was very sweet, and at one point I asked her how much they would charge to put him down.  Honestly, I forget how much it was, because she really didn't want me to do that.  She said they have a list of doctors (three doctors) in different places that will do things for less.  She gave me two different meds to keep Blue from hurting, and one to fight infection.  She said amputation would be cheaper and safer than surgery.  That's fine with me; once he gets used to it, the cat won't care.  When she inspected the wound, she said there were bite-marks on the bone.  Probably coyotes.  Or maybe a dog or a fox.  

I am keeping him in the back porch for now.  It's a small space, and the doctor said that's what he needed.  We stopped on the way home and got cat litter, although I'm not sure Blue can crawl into it in his shape.  He drank a little water when I offered it.  The closest of the doctors on the list is Raytown, so I'll call him on Monday to see what can be done and when.  And "if", because I don't know how much of a break on the price I'll be getting.  

At least my cat isn't hurting too much now.  I just wish it hadn't happened.  Of course, if you have an inside/outside cat, you always know these things are a possibility.  Cliff said we had better start locking the cats inside the garage for the night so this won't happen again.

Believe me, I will.

    

Walking

 I've mentioned many times how Cliff and I used to take walks in the woods and pasture.  When Cliff had to quit because of his hip and breathing problems, I kept on by myself.  The main reason I got a knee replacement was so I could go on my daily walk without pain.  After two or three years, though, I had to make it a shorter walk.  Then another, even shorter.  Finally I had to stop.

I need to have outside time to be happy.  Of course in summer, there's the garden, although I have to put up with aches and pains from gardening.  

Last week I was wanting so much to go down to the Green Cathedral in our woods that I just decided to try it.  I walked slowly, and it isn't so terribly far away; even walking slow it's probably ten minutes.  It's the nearest place where I can feel like I'm in the woods, and I was so happy to get there, I almost cried.  Of course Gabe was with me.

This is where we first got there, leaving the wide-open pasture and going into the shade.  It was so very cool after our sunny-day walk.

This is looking down from the pasture.  There's at least a hundred-fifty-feet drop on either side of the path.  At least a third of our property consists of canyons.   When I was younger I climbed over the whole place often and thought nothing of it.  That's where the really big trees are.  If I climbed down there now, I'd have to call someone to come and pick me up!  

  This is looking back at where we entered from the pasture.  Gabe and I sat down at the bottom of the path for quite a while.

Since then I've walked back there four more times without making my knees hurt any more than usual.  I also decided to try the exercise bike again; if I leave it on the next-to-the-easiest level, I can pedal fast enough to use 110 calories in half an hour, so I've been doing that some days too.  My worst pain comes from my left knee, which is my replacement knee.  Lately I've tried to be aware of what it is that makes that knee hurt, so I don't do anything to cause the pain.  I think I may be onto something, but we'll see.

Even if I find out I can't keep on walking for exercise... and that day will come, I'm sure, unless I die first... at least I can be thankful every time I do it.  And that makes it more special.

Project 2,996

In past years I have participated in Project 2,996 by choosing (or being given) the name of someone who died in the disaster that happened on September 11, 2001.  The idea was to make folks aware that these were individuals who died, not just a nameless, faceless crowd.  My job was to use Google to find out something about some of the people who died on September 11, 2001, as a result of the tragedy at the World Trade Center.  I found some information about all of them, often from their obituaries.  Every once in awhile, especially around September 11, someone will comment that they knew that person, and will thank me for keeping that name alive. 
I'm linking to the entries I did about each of those people in different years.  The project seems to be no longer active, but I'm glad I was part of it.

Thelma Cuccinello

Christopher Sullivan

Veronique Bowers

Derek James Statkevicus 

Linda C. Lee

All those entries get hits throughout the year, but on September 11, they get more.  People who were friends of these people leave a comment, thanking me for doing this.  Project 2,996 seems to be operating mainly on Pinterest this year, and I have no desire to add another time-wasting site to my online life.  So what you see here is my only way of participating. 

I updated this page I originally did in 2012, rather than try and do it completely over.  Project 2996 has idled to a halt, I believe, as well it should.  It's no use trying to keep anger alive after so much time has passed.  This is a reminder to live each moment to the fullest: one morning these people got up, went to work or to the airport expecting an ordinary day, and never came home. 

A thing about my husband

Cliff has been looking for three of those yellow buckets that cat litter comes in for quite awhile.  I figured it would be easy to find them, but my daughter asked people at her workplace, and said everybody is using the "fancy kinds" of cat litter now.  I put a request on the Wellington community page on Facebook, and could have gotten one bucket, that's all.  However, my husband happened to remember someone he's known for years who gave him some of those buckets in the past:  One of my daughter's old boy friends.

He lives across the river now, but told Cliff he'd bring him some buckets.  We rarely see him, so when he showed up, he stayed and visited for about two hours.  I began to wonder if he was going to leave before dark, but around 6:30 he was gone.  Gabe and I met Cliff halfway as he was coming to the house, and he said, "I'm going to be needing a Superman shirt."

"Huh?" I said.

Turns out this guy told Cliff that when he was in high school, he had always wished he had him as a dad, because his dad wasn't very nice... that's all I'll say about that.

But here's the thing:  Everybody the age of my two children (in their mid-50s now) wants Cliff for a dad!  And yes, my children are glad they had him for a dad, by the way.  I think even my son-in-law wants him for a dad, although basically he already has him, ever since he married our daughter.  Some of our nephews are in this Clifford-fan-group also.

So, where does that leave me?  

Well, I am the mom who tried never to say anything bad about my husband in front of my children (or anyone else, really).  I don't think I ever slammed him, although I got peeved at him at times; but I made sure they knew he was the sole breadwinner and we should appreciate him for that.  If we bought things for him to take to work in his lunch box, the kids knew the rules, knew that he deserved it, and never even asked for those things.

I'm the reason both children left home at the age of 17 or 18, mostly because of some of my rules.  But at least they have a Superman dad!  

 And I'm pretty proud of that.  By the way, the kids do still claim me.

Fun with goats

I try to spend at least half an hour sitting in the goat pen each day.  It's just so nice to pet them and watch them chewing their cud or eating hay; I take a cup full of sweet feed, and mother and daughter almost get in a fight, each one trying to get the most of it.  Gabe was jealous and acted like he wanted to chase them for a while, but the goats aren't afraid of him; in fact the youngster, Louise, loves to play with him.  I'm glad that's working out.  Louise insists on sitting on my lap every time I'm out there, although she's growing so fast she needs my help to get up on me.

Blue the cat was going to the goat pen every day with us, but it appears he went in on his own at some point and got stung by the electric fence.  I always turn it off when Gabe and I go in.  I hate it that Blue won't join us now.  He really doesn't understand what happened, so when he got shocked, he seems to have decided it's dangerous anywhere in the pen.  I even carried him out and put him down on the ground by me thinking he'd be alright if he wasn't getting shocked, but he ran out as fast as he could.

Here's a little video to show you how much fun a dog and a young goat can have together.

I need a sleep test

Now that I've had my Fitbit watch for a while, I'm pretty sure the reason I can't sleep is that I have sleep apnea.  A good night for me is six hours, but I don't usually sleep even that long.  I always wake up at least four times each night, sometimes more; this morning when I checked the Fitbit, I had only slept four hours and ten minutes.  And yes, I snore, which is another indication I may have sleep apnea.  Other than the last symptom on the list below, I have all these problems; well, except of course I don't know if I stop breathing in my sleep, so there's that.  More often than not, when we're watching TV Cliff has to wake me up at least once if I want to know what's happening on West Wing, my very favorite show.  Also during the Chiefs games, my other favorite show. 

• Snoring too much
• Periods when you stop breathing during sleep (sleep apnea)
• Daytime sleepiness
• You can't sleep (insomnia)
• You are very sleepy during the day and fall asleep without warning (narcolepsy)
• Conditions that cause leg discomfort. These are called limb movement disorders. They include periodic limb movements during sleep (restless legs syndrome).

I suppose I'll have to see my regular doctor first.  If I could just sleep without all the interruptions it would help.   

Oh, and according to what I've read today on the Internet, there's a sleep study I could do at home now.

I've had other folks tell me how good they slept after they got their Cpap machine; I'd like to know what it feels like to wake up and actually want to do things without having to force myself.

Wish me luck.

Yesterday was a happy day!

Thanks for reading my daughter's story.  And Rachel, thank you for doing it, because I have not had anything to talk about lately... until NOW.  Also, I love you.  

So let me tell you about what a wonderful thing happened a week ago.  In 2009 I bought a washer without an agitator and hated the thing from day one.  It was a top-loader, which may have been why it didn't work very well, but our clothes came out as if they hadn't even been washed.  I bought other products that got them a bit cleaner, but a person shouldn't have to do that.  I know many people who love high-efficiency washers, but mine just wasn't much good.  However, I made the best of it.  Every once in awhile it would put some code up to let me know something was wrong, but I would do one thing and another and get it going again.

Finally, it gave me a code I couldn't figure out how to fix, and the code supposedly wanted me to call a certain phone number.  I have had to put up with that lemon for fifteen years, so I had Cliff take me to Home Depot to get a new washing machine with an agitator.  Of course, I had to wait a week for them to deliver it, but we had enough clothes to wear until it showed up.

Apparently this machine, a Maytag, is also a high efficiency model, according to the information that came with it.  I had assumed that HE meant no agitator.  So it still doesn't waste more water than is needed on the clothes, just like the one I got rid of.  But I was amazed when some kitchen towels that had stains from long ago came out of the washer without stains.  Yes, it was a good day.

It doesn't take much to make my day.  Like my young goat, Louise.

A story from my daughter: Feeding the Cats

We had an unbelievable cold snap last winter that happened during a week that Kevin and I were both home with Covid.  That caused us to spend a lot of time staring out the windows and doors around here out of boredom.  We noticed a small tortoise shell cat on our back porch in a makeshift dog house that's been out there for years.  I told Kevin to please grab some cheap cat food the next time he's at the store. I can't stand to see a cat hungry and cold. We decided we should name her if we were going to feed her, so Kevin named her Daphne.  Since then, she appears twice a day for feedings, usually with one of her adolescent children that are wilder than her.

Kevin's knees are really bad, as are the rest of his joints.  Walking hurts and is difficult and stairs are worse.  Each evening, Daphne is sitting on the side porch near the door, yeowling to make sure he is very aware that she is hungry.  He has to walk up the steps of the side porch and into the house, get cat food, then down the same steps and to the back of the house, where we feed them.  Then he returns and climbs the steps again.  

A coworker and I were brainstorming and she said, "You meal prep for your lunches every week, meal prep for Daphne!"  I liked the idea, so I packed several baggies with servings of cat food to keep in his car.  This got annoying REALLY fast, having to refill those baggies.  I decided to pursue other experiments to find a more suitable solution.

We were in WalMart together and I said, "Let's find a container that locks closed," and settled on a rubbermaid type tote with a locking handle.  We were pretty sure that nothing would be able to get into it.  The next morning, Kevin went out to feed them and the lid was in the window well and half the food was gone."  Have I mentioned how much I despise racoons?

Saturday, Kevin finished the last few pork rinds from the bottom of a rather large container.  I said, "Hey, that's a screw top!  Racoons can't open THAT!" and washed it out., filled it with cat food, and put it out there.  I was pretty smug, this time.  I've camped a lot and I was sure they wouldn't be able to open that jar.  The next morning, I went out to feed the cats.  The cat food was gone.  GONE.  The jar and all.

It was still dark out, so I returned for a flashlight in case it was down in the window well or something, but it was nowhere.  I probably stood out there with my mouth hanging open for 2 minutes before I gave up and came back inside.  A few hours later, I looked out the window and saw a splash of yellow in the brush pile behind the neighbor's shed. I asked Kevin if the lid to the pork rind container was yellow and he confirmed my suspicion.  Those suckers hauled that 5 pound (or more) container over 40' across our yard.  All I could picture was a group of them, all lined up and rolling it along like in a log-rolling contest. 

This weekend, I'll be out there trying the next thing.  All for a stupid feral cat that isn't even mine.

Nothing much

Once again, I am reading a book I hate to put down:  The River, by Peter Heller.  When I started reading it, I learned it was about two college guys who shared their love for the great outdoors, going on a canoe trip in northern Canada.  I'm not even halfway through it, but already they are facing fire, white water, and violence.  

I love the plot, although there is a lot of talk about canoes that I read, but really don't understand; I'm not going to be going canoeing any time soon, and it would take a whole other book to understand everything about canoes!  I've read many paragraphs like the one below, because I don't want to miss anything that might be associated with the main plot:  

"Jack set a hard pace and they paddled in perfect sync.  On the lakes above they'd had all the time in the world and so had paddled expedition-style, with the sternman finishing his stroke with a slight twist of the shaft and the paddle's power face arcing outward, the J-stroke.  It kept the canoe straight.  It was invented long ago because physics dictated that a stroke in the stern had much more steering power than a stroke in the bow..."

You get the picture.  But I am loving the book. 

Anyway.  That's what I'm doing, and I have several books on hold again, so there's no fear of not having a book to read.

I actually came here to tell my readers that since I don't have a lot to say lately, my daughter agreed to send me a story she told us last weekend so I can share it with you on my blog.  She works, so it may be a day or three before it comes.  

Lovely, lovely weather outside (although it's still dry).

Peace. 

This is a boring entry. Don't waste your time.

So how can I do a blog entry if all I've done is read all week?

We're having cooler weather but no significant rain.  I'm letting the weeds grow in the garden now.  What's the use of wasting my time?  Bah humbug  

For the first time in a long time, I decided to read Harlan Coben's latest Myron Bolitar book, Think Twice.  About halfway through the book I remembered why I have a problem with his books:  He has so many people in his stories, I can't remember who is who.  I did finish it though.  Thank goodness when I'm reading on the iPad and see a name I've forgotten, I can hold my finger on the name and it will show me where the person was in the previous part of the story, so I usually can connect the name with the person.   

This afternoon found me reading The Last Thing He Told Me, which is holding my interest so well, I hate to put it down.

I went to both churches this morning and after heating up leftovers for dinner and reading for a couple hours, I made some oatmeal cookies so I wouldn't be ashamed of myself for doing nothing.  Cliff is still trying to lose a little more weight, but he thinks he can get by eating just one cookie a day as long as I put them in the cabinet so he isn't looking at them all the time.  Next-door grandson will eat one every time he comes over.

Cliff is having dizzy spells again.  Disappointing, considering he hadn't had that problem for several weeks.  At our ages we never know what kind of curse is going to happen to us next. 

Grandmother's Oatmeal Cookies

This is the best Oatmeal Cookie I have ever tasted and is my family's favorite. This is a recipe that I have had for years that a friend of mine gave me.

Submitted by Sheryl Bohn

Prep Time:

 

20 mins

Cook Time:

 

12-13 mins

Additional Time:

 

1 hr 28 mins

Total Time:

 

2 hrs

Servings:

 

48

Yield:

 

4 dozen

Ingredients

• 3 eggs

• 1 cup raisins

• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

• 1 cup butter flavored shortening

• 1 cup packed brown sugar

• 1 cup white sugar

• 2 ½ cups all-purpose flour

• 2 teaspoons baking soda

• 1 teaspoon salt

• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

• 2 cups quick cooking oats

• ½ cup chopped walnuts

Directions

1. Beat eggs, and stir in raisins and vanilla. Refrigerate for at least an hour.

2. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C).

3. Cream together shortening, brown sugar, and white sugar until light and fluffy. Combine flour, baking soda, salt, and cinnamon; stir into the sugar mixture. Mix in raisins and eggs, then stir in oats and walnuts. Roll dough into walnut sized balls, and place 2 inches apart on ungreased cookie sheets.

4. Bake for 10 to 12 minutes in preheated oven, or until edges are golden. Cool on wire racks.

I do believe I'll take my dog and go to bed.  Good night, fearless readers.