Believing in a Future

This is an encore from almost exactly a year ago. I had a close call, followed by a night in the Neurology Intermediate Care Unit (the next best thing to the ICU), and then a slow, steady recovery. A full year later, I can dig in the dirt successfully. Reviewing this post reminds me to take nothing for granted. 

Planting a garden means believing in a future.

Didn’t I post a quote like that in the recent past? I’ll search the archives. When I ran a quick search for “garden future quotes” I found everything but this one, so I’m unable to source it quite yet.

Meanwhile, back at the O.K. Chorale, I am sitting still and resting, stretching my legs as much as I can tolerate, and keeping calm. Mostly.

The big bunny still takes her responsibilities seriously in the role of service animal. I took a half day at work, stayed home for the morning, and even though I’d gotten up to feed her at the normal time, she came in a little later and made sure I was up. First she thumped, loudly, and then she scrabbled and scratched the blankets hanging down from the bed. I gave in and got up, and then she sat watching closely while I checked my blood pressure — so closely that I almost expected her to stick a paw in the cuff and check her own.

I’m discouraged from anything resembling physical effort. Bending, lifting, twisting, and straining are all on the “no-no” lists. That means digging in the dirt, spreading topsoil, carrying pots of seedlings out to the deck, or wrestling with a rain barrel are all outlawed. For now, that makes sense. I am stiff and sore, and I tire easily. I don’t know how long the remnants of last week’s hematoma (look it up, and trust me, it hurt) will get in my way.

On the bright side (there’s a little resilient thinking) Mother Nature has delivered rain for most of this week. The weather hasn’t encouraged garden work, so I miss it a little less. But as soon as the sun peeks out from behind the clouds, I’m going to want to garden.

Gardening has always been an ingredient in my healing, a strong part of any recovery. Taking the time to start seeds indoors kept me looking forward after my hysterectomy. Now it’s almost May, and by the end of the month I hope to have my plants in the dirt.

That’s where the faith in the future really comes in. When it’s time to plant, and I’m looking around and envisioning the harvest, my belief in the future is at its strongest.

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And again, the pharmacy

Dear Pharmacy that Shall Not be Named;

Once again, it’s the system, not the people. The staff was as bothered by the mix-up as we were. The exact same mix-up had happened at least once in the past. It wasn’t new.

I overheard someone checking into the computer saying, “It looks like both were ordered, but only one printed out.” So you’re saying it was the call-in system that messed up? Okay, I’ll take that explanation. But now let’s look at a true fix: how to prevent this from happening a third time or even more.

This is the toughest kind of problem to solve: the problem that doesn’t start with a human. Since it seems to be a systems error, there will have to be a solution that changes the system. In this case, someone at the top will need to call someone in IT and say, “Can you modify this code?”

Yeah, you’re right. I doubt it, too. And the Pharmacy That Shall Not be Named was doing so well. I haven’t written a Pharmacy post in ages. Their customer service has improved greatly. Now, the challenge rests with the folks who run the system. Pharmacy That Shall Not Be Named, can you fix the system? We’ll wait in suspense for the answer.

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Water, Water – but not everywhere

Once again I find myself feeling fortunate to live in the Great Lakes region. While California dries up to a dust bowl level or worse, it’s easy to feel smug for conserving water where I am. But then I realize – my own water-saving techniques would be a drop in the bucket in Southern California (pun unintended, sort of).

As soon as our new garage is built, I’ll set up the rain barrels to catch and collect rain water. Those rain barrels are wonderful. I have two, and they provide enough water to keep my garden growing. If I’m honest, however, these two big barrels collect enough water in a typical year. The south west region of the U.S.  has had several years in a row that were anything but typical. A rain barrel is only good when rain falls.

I was feeling virtuous for reusing sink water. After washing a few dishes, I scooped up the soapy water and watered my tomato and pepper seedlings. Plants seem to thrive with this not-quite-pristine water. But then again – my water bills are fairly low because, well, because we live in the Great Lakes basin. There’s a lot of fresh water to go around. Even this sink full of the valuable liquid would boost my water bill in the hot sun of SoCal.

And that takes me back to an incident that soaked our front yard until it felt like a sponge or quicksand: the Water-Gas Leak Disaster. When an irresponsible worker drove a bobcat over the curb stop that directs water from the main into our home, that break flowed into the ground until it could hold no more. Then it sent gallons and gallons into our basement. The rest is history – bad memories, to be sure, but history.

I remember talking to a man from the water department who explained the damage to me. I reacted with an “Oh, no, will we be billed for this leak?” He assured me no, because it hadn’t reached the meter. Unfortunately, though, every ounce was treated water gone to waste. Treating water costs money, no matter who pays it.

When our curb stop was broken and the water flowed underground, our small front lawn became very, very muddy. If I lived in a drought stricken area, I’d be wise to not even have a lawn. A green grass lawn uses a lot of water just for basic maintenance.

If I’m to draw conclusions from this rambling, I guess I shouldn’t be feeling too smug about my own water conservation efforts, but I should keep doing what I’m doing. If I can expand those efforts, that might be even better.

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Life goes on.

It’s quiet here. Chuck is enjoying a model train show with his train buddies. Amigo is upstairs listening to a game – major or minor league, I don’t know. Which sport is up for grabs, too. He’s hanging out in his room with a tall cup of Sunny D, listening to something out in the very wide world of sports.

Meanwhile, I’m watching the Brewers, down two to nothing in the top of the 6th inning to the St. Louis Cardinals. This has not been a good start to the season in Milwaukee. Sometimes I wonder if the racing sausages are training better than the team! But seriously, maybe the Brew Crew will start slowly and end with the bang this year – the opposite of last year.

I watered the seedlings under their grow lights. Some are still weak; I may try the fan trick. Put a fan on low speed and let it gently blow over the seedlings to help them build up stronger stems. Well, take a look, people. Do you think it’ll work?

Falling over the edges with the weight of their leaves

Falling over the edges with the weight of their leaves

I’ll give it a try and let you know, folks. In the meantime, helpful hints for me scraggly starter plants are welcome.

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Books – Ambrosia for the Mind

An encore post from several years ago – I still remember the child popping up and looking confused. I would have hugged him, but I’m sure he would have been utterly embarrassed. As we’re saying goodbye to my book-loving stepfather, this post reminds me that books are amazing.

It was a typical class transition, which in my class means a struggle to get everyone to shift gears mentally and physically. Then, guide all 25 of them into the hallway (quietly!) and across the hall for Science, and welcome the other group of 9- and 10-year-olds into my classroom for Social Studies. We made it through these maneuvers, I allowed one girl and one boy to use the rest rooms, and then turned out the lights and turned on the overhead projector to introduce the details of the upcoming research project.
Suddenly a confused-looking face peeked up from the Book Nook corner behind the computers. One of mine, looking confused, stood up and shook his head a little. He had been so involved in the book he was reading, so totally lost in its world, that he never noticed the rest of the class putting away their math books, getting out their science folders, and leaving the room. He smiled sheepishly, gathered his materials and left the room.
No, I didn’t give him grief. I couldn’t. You see, I recognized a little of the fourth grade me in this kid. My mother remembers the time I walked home from school reading a book and I walked right past our house. Books? They’re great. Who needs TV?

In case you’re wondering, the book was a Junior Classic, an abridged version of Robinson Crusoe that I picked up for $1 at a thrift store.
It was a dollar well spent.

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Flat Stanley returns – Encore

I might carry my watering can purse to a few places – like a traveling gnome, but much cuter. Flat Stanley, however, has been traveling for many years. Here’s his visit to my workplace – an encore post later reprinted on my workplace’s national blog!

(By guest blogger Flat Stanley)

 I went to work today with Daisy.
Daisy is a teacher in a newfangled kind of school; she teaches online.

Daisy’s students (and those of the school) live all over the state of Wisconsin. There’s a map in the school offices showing where the students live. Wow! They’re really spread out.

Daisy took me around the high school side of the school. I met the Social Studies teacher, and we fooled around with Google Maps. He was looking for Westminster Abbey.

The high school language arts teacher has a cubicle full of posters encouraging reading – everything from Shakespeare to (be still my flattened heart) the Cat in the Hat.

Ah, high school science. I look forward to biology and earth science. I have a little more math to learn before starting physics. It’ll take more than just knowing how to add, or so I’ve been told.

Back in Daisy’s cubicle, she taught me to use a rubric to grade writing projects.
She looked over my first one and decided to grade the rest herself. I guess teaching writing isn’t my strength – yet.

Well, science is still one of my favorite subjects, so Daisy logged me into a Virtual Class in middle school science.

Cool. Very cool. The teacher called on students and then let them “write” on the virtual whiteboard to connect vocabulary words with their meaning. This would be a great way to learn, at least for a flat geek like me. I could keep on traveling, as long as I had Internet access.

I looked over Ms. W’s shoulder as she worked on lesson plans.

Then I moved once again to middle school language arts. They write a lot of essays. Wow!

We couldn’t stay away from Daisy’s desk for long, so I offered to help her make phone calls.
A fifth grader needed help with her math. Ooh, those multi-step problems. They rock my socks! Wait. I don’t wear socks. Never mind.

Daisy and her coworkers were great hosts. They told me if I want to teach like they do, I need a working knowledge of computers – and a talent for making coffee.

Thanks to Flat Stanley, visitor from Irving, TX, for the guest post today.

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Brahms, Death, and just being there

Readers, I lost someone dear to us tonight. I’ll write a tribute later. For now, I’ll bring up a piece of wisdom from a past post.

A long time ago, when I was young and studying piano, I was struggling to play Brahms. I could play the notes, it sounded nice, but my performance was lacking in the emotion and the intensity that makes Brahms’ works the dramatic pieces that they are.
My teacher stopped and thought. Then she told me:

I once had trouble playing Brahms. I couldn’t express it properly, and I didn’t know why. I didn’t know what was missing. I never knew what to say at funerals, either.
Then my husband died. And I realized what I had never known; that there was nothing anyone can say at funerals. All you can do is be there; and being there is the most important thing of all.
And then, then I could play Brahms.

Well, I stuck to Debussy and Chopin for a long time. But I know now; even if there is nothing to say, no way to help the grieving, it’s important to be there.

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Daisy’s traveling purse

The short version of the story: I saw this.

The green option.

The green option.

I said to myself, “Oh, self, that is amazing. Can I find one like it?”

So I did.

Pink Purse hanging in cubicle

Pink Purse hanging in cubicle

Tonight, we went out to a local restaurant for dinner. I set my purse on a shelf next to the table. It seemed to work.

The waiter did a double take.

The waiter did a double take.

So, friends in the blogosphere, expect more adventures of the Pink Watering Can Purse. I predict more adventures like this one.

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