Month: March 2010

You load 16 tons, and whaddaya get?

A lotta grief, instructions to go sit quietly in a corner, an’ repeated imprecations on your dodder-hood!

It was only about one ton, or maybe half a ton; I can’t remember how much a cubic yard of stuff weighs. I did a goodly amount of hauling, shoveling, and spreading a bunch of gravel and dirt with Snaotheus and KrisDi on Saturday and got to watch their Amazing Expanding Yard Project take shape. We doubled the size of the lawn (and the amount Snaotheus must now mow).

They had already built about a 4′ retaining wall and filled in with gravel and dirt, and built a lovely little raised bed for KrisDi’s garden. KrisDi had moved probably 500 or more pounds of mulch the day before in a different area, too. We hauled big rock slabs back to pave the around-the-garden area (which we didn’t finish; some of them will need to be broken and fit together still). They got 16 rolls of sod (I wasn’t much help with that since I’d forgotten “my” set of gloves and was too fastidious to get mud all over myself) and Snaotheus laid and cut it, with assistance from KrisDi, while I served as Lawn Roller and stomped all over it so it would get good root contact with the new dirt. Then they watered it, it rained like mad all Saturday night, and we got the Great Flood Deluge yesterday afternoon.

I really enjoyed doing that, although I’m sure Snaotheus will spend a great deal of energy telling all and sundry how much I got in the way and how useless I was. I’d much rather do things with them. It makes me feel like I’m actually a part of their lives rather than some doddering old relic they have to tolerate. πŸ˜‰

It was also therapeutic in working off the rage I’d built up over a brutally horrid work week!

KrisDi cooked fantastic stuff for us, too: chicken and dumplings and pulled-pork tacos!! She is a yummy yummy cook, indeed. I took down Snaotheus’s pi plate birthday present, wif an apple pie in it. It’s been so long since I made a pie crust (when Northwood was home on leave in 2004?) that I was surprised it worked at all. πŸ˜‰ And we hit the Original Pancake House and Naan ‘n’ Curry yesterday. . . I have spectacular leftovers waiting for me, too!

Driving home yesterday, it was rainingΒ  so hard that it felt like I was driving underwater. With the wipers on hiigh, I couldn’t see more than about 10′ ahead, and anywhere near a semi, forget it. You couldn’t see the road at all. It was pretty awful, but I got to some sunshine about 10 minutes south of town. πŸ˜‰

Grandma has lost her keys: door and post-office box. That means I can’t get into her mailbox to get the third replacements for some essential tax documents. . . she’s thrown the first two sets away (or put them in The Safe Place, where an archeologist will find them in 7018).Β  Sigh. Soldier on!

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Yes, my geeky dears. . .

. . . we have an astonishment for your amusement!

Check this out.

You heard it first here: Computational textiles rock. (But no, I will not be making this thing. πŸ˜‰ )

If I could figure out how to embed the video, I would. (Doesn’t say much for my geekiness, does it?!?)

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O, happy… holiday!

What a horrible, pathetic slacker I am! I forgot entirely it was The Most Important Holiday of the Year today! Even Grandma was doing better than I, what with her green earphone… and a green balloon. They had a party. I wasn’t even wearing green. How humiliating is that? Hmmm?

Well, at least I have a Guinness at home. Better than nothing.

Sheesh. I’m *so* humiliated. Chagrined. Disgraced. Shamed, just shamed.

Happy St. Patty’s Day to yous guys, anyway. 8-\

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The Evil EM Field

So. Now, the Evil EM Field (EEMF) that swarms around me like a Miasma of Doom has extended its reach. Usually, whatever smokes, burns, sizzles or fries is within about three feet of my lugubrious person. This time, it’s managed to attack the volume control on the (gently used) telly that Snaotheus and KrisDi brought up to me a couple of years ago.

Last night, the volume control went wild on autopilot, racing from level 0 to 40 in about five seconds and blasting my ears. It accelerated faster than I could work it back down with the remote. I wished in vain for it to stop at 11!

This a.m., I turned it on without the remote and it seemed happier. It worked most of the day, providing soothing music to calm the savage beast, and then decided it was just going to mute everything. Fortunately, I can get telly volume through my spiffy sound system. As long as it’s happy to stay on mute, I’m golden.

Had to take a new earphone to Grandma. The one I took over about a week ago got snipped off when she was at the hairdresser’s. I’m not sure how a person can be oblivious of a 1mm white wire and whack it with scissors, but evidently that’s what happened. Grandma thought she had run over it with her wheelchair and broken it, and saved the amputated end carefully so that I could fix it. πŸ˜‰ I just got a couple of cheap pairs, figuring this will happen again. And again.

I’m still bugged that it runs monaural only, which strikes me as excessively stupid since a) people have two ears, even when they don’t work, and b) everything’s done in stereo or more these days, so I presume they had to work extra hard and spend extra money to get sound to only one little speaker.

Grandma’s really enjoying hospice, as much a contradiction in terms as that sounds. Somebody’s over to see her almost every day, and between them and me, she’s really enjoying the attention. We’re hoping that the extra attention will mean that the number of, erm, falls will, erm, fall, too, since we suspect that most of the time she hasn’t really fallen, but more like slid out of her chair.

Need to get my oil changed. Am adding up crap for taxes. Got told I can’t go to Seattle for the Hard Liver Festival. Dog has a new growth on her belly. It’s blowing hard enough to bend the 100′ trees over. An’ that’s all the news that is news across the living room.

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Hearing machine

:sniffle, sniffle, sneeze, hack, snort, sniffle, sniffle:

Grandma’s been complaining about her (relatively, as of November) new “hearing machine,” which is basically a little microphone, amp and earphone. “It’s not working! It’s not working! The batteries are dead!”

I brought it home last night to give it a more thorough going-over than I could there. Batteries are good, connections are good, microphone seems OK… but the earphone wasn’t working. :sigh: Who knows what she did to that? Dunked it in a cup of coffee? Played fetch with the cat?

Since it only sends signal in mono (WHY would the mfr do that?!?), I took a pair of spare earphones, checked ’em out, cut off the nonfunctional one, and took it back over this a.m. She’s thrilled. Again.

And she’s already forgotten that I was the engine for getting her into hospice. πŸ˜‰ “Did you know they’ve put me in the hospice program, honey?” Um, yeah, I kinda had an inkling. ;D

:sniffle, sniffle, sneeze, hack, snort, sniffle, sniffle:

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Macabre delight

We got Grandma actually admitted to the hospice program yesterday—lots of paperwork, which she didn’t have to mess with, thank goodness—and when she met the hospice nurse, she was so excited. It seemed a little weird, like, “Oh, I’m so happy to be in your program, somebody will finally let me die!” But she was thrilled and hugely relieved. I think she felt much better just knowing that hospice, not the nursing staff on site, is in charge of her care and they will be called first the next time there’s an emergency. Not the EMTs.

After seeing her response to the program admission, I feel a lot better about the whole thing, too. And of course. . . the infection on her leg is much better. . . sans treatment. πŸ˜‰ That woman is tougher than tempered nails.

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The possibly fateful decision

Met with Grandma and her doctor today about her very, very sore shoulder (separated AC, possibly torn rotator cuff) and an infected owie on her leg. We decided to call in a hospice consult and not give Grandma antibiotics. This means she may kick the infection on her own… or she may not. If not, she will get sick and die.

She’s been angling for this for a long, long time, as you know (the dying part, not the infected owie part). And she was very much in agreement with not treating it. But still, it’s a difficult decision to make. If / when the infection moves into her bloodstream, she will die.

As I’ve said, I don’t want to lose my mommy. But in most of the ways that count, she hasn’t been my mommy for a long time. This is what she wants. I’m not going to do what one of my cousins did, and violate her wishes.

But still.

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