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Author Archives: Daisy
Not Suitable for Social Media
Sometimes, it’s just wiser to keep hands off the keyboard. It’s not that any of these posts were bad, just that they were rather dull and at times, whiny. And really, folks, in the big picture, I get over it. But sometimes, just once in a while, a blog is a good venue in which to rant and complain. Because, I said because, releasing tension makes for a better night’s sleep.
I am tired and sore and even a little cold and shivery today. Maybe going out to lunch yesterday was a little too much for my energy level. Solution: double blankets, couch, nap. Between naps, rest. And if Amigo sneaks into my spot on the couch while I’m in the shower – I’ll get even. I’ll grab my blankets and a pillow and tuck myself into his bean bag chair.
The daily injections of the anti-clotting drug seemed to be going fine – until I realized I’d given myself a bruise every time. As long as I’m getting the meds injected and they’re getting absorbed properly, I’ll put up with a tummy that resembles the surface of the moon. I mean, really, I’m not a low-rider jeans or bikini babe type, even in the best of weather. But allow me to feel a little disgruntled. Jabbing myself in the tummy with a needle isn’t a happy thought even on the best of days. Maybe I should plan the landscape as I choose a new spot each day. I could connect the dots with multi-colored Sharpies.
If I start posting updates like this, it’s time to take my laptop away and hand me another blanket. Coffee or chocolate might help. I wouldn’t turn down a big bag of fast food popcorn, either. If I post a picture – well, then take my camera and hide it. Now.
On the positive side, Buttercup the service bunny seems a little less worried about me. She attached herself to my side when I came home from the hospital by establishing a spot under a chair next to the daybed I’m using. I came back from a bathroom trip that night to find her standing right next to the door, staring at me disapprovingly (trust me, she does this well). She doesn’t give me the evil eye any more when I’m out of bed. She must know something is going well.
So now comes the big question. If these are posts I will refrain from sharing on social media, should I share the link on Facebook and Twitter when this post goes live?
Planned Overs
Chuck had the week off and spent much of it in the kitchen. He goes back to work next week on a normal workweek schedule. As normal, that is, as normal can be in an NFL market not represented in the Big Bowl in the Jersey Snow.
Meanwhile, back at the O.K. Chorale, Amigo and I will be tasked with cooking our own meals. I will still have limitations to what I can do in terms of lifting and bending, so we’re thinking and planning ahead.
Tip number one: Chuck is making extras. When we make leftovers on purpose, it’s called planned=overs. Amigo and I will be able to slip a leftover into the microwave and call it Lunch.
Tip number two: Chuck and Amigo will make a trip to the corner meat market six blocks from home. Their task: bring home chicken pot pie and/or pre-made lasagna. If anything else jumps off the shelf or out of the freezer section, I could be in a positive frame of mind toward anything that Amigo can cook. I’m willing to offer help, as long as he handles the bending and lifting.
Tip number three: Chuck and I picked up several pantry basics such as beans in many colors, soup mixes (not cans), and chili fixins. If the pantry is full, a pantry raid supper is a simple plan.
What is Comfort Food?
Amigo likes the term “Comfort Food.” If I announce what’s for supper and he chimes in “Comfort Food!” I take it as a compliment. From him, it means something he likes, something easy to eat, something not fancy, a simple dish with simple tastes.
Chuck, on the other hand, watches cooking shows – way too many cooking shows. He claims that the top chefs highly dislike the term Comfort Food because – because, well, what does that make the other foods? Discomfort foods? Something not comfortable?
Sometimes the best way to define a term is to show examples. Comfort food includes:
- baked mac & cheese
- meatloaf
- leftovers – including, but not limited to, turkey soup made from Thanksgiving leftovers
- something that’s simmered long enough to make the house smell good (crock pots included)
- brunch dishes such as skillets and omelets
- soup and grilled cheese sandwiches
- variations on BLT sandwiches
Another trait: Comfort Food requires some effort. Microwave meals do not qualify. A frozen pizza doesn’t count as true Comfort Food, but a homemade pizza more than counts. Here are a few suggestions that take a little effort and time:
- homemade seafood chowder made from scratch on stove top
- mashed potatoes – real mashed potatoes, not dried potato flakes
- lettuce salad with grated carrots, cheeses, and a Tablespoon of bacon dressing
- winter squash – one butternut squash from the pantry, the last stored there from September – baked and mashed with a little butter and brown sugar
- chili – stovetop or in the crock pot
- spaghetti and meat sauce with grated Parmesan on top
Locally grown, locally purchased, or the local variation of a classic comfort food dish
- chili with macaroni or spaghetti (It’s a Green Bay tradition; don’t judge me)
- Chicken Booyah (ya, I spelled dat rite, too)
- eggnog ice cream (I made this a few weeks ago with the last of the eggnog)
- sourdough bread – in the bread machine, but made from homegrown starter
- nachos, homemade with home grown jalapeno peppers
So, readers, what do you think? Offer up a menu or a requirement, a necessity that makes a food fit the Comfort Category.
As Baby Boomers Age
Oh, the memories. My dear darling husband was in terrible pain with what turned out to be kidney stones. The Emergency nurse asked all the perfect scripted triage questions, and he answered what he could through the haze. “Where is the pain?” He pointed. “On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the most severe, how would you rate your pain?” “ELEVENS!”
Fast forward to my recent visit to the nearby surgical center. The RN found what she called “good veins” and set up the IV quickly and (nearly) painlessly. Chuck complained that it wasn’t fair, really. The last time he’d needed an IV, they’d searched all over and the nurse eventually sat on the floor next to his dangling arm to get an IV into him.
Then it dawned on us. We had turned into the dreaded generation: those with conversations consisting of comparisons of our various hospital visits. My pre-op nurse stepped out, ostensibly to check with the anesthesiologist, but we think she really had to leave the prep room before she broke out laughing and appeared unprofessional.
I learned that hospital food has come a long way in quality since I worked part time in food service at this very hospital. The menu was nice and the process was rather personal. And when I finally developed an appetite of sorts, the food was delicious. I think they should rename their transition or bland diet to call it Comfort Food. If I served Baked Mac & Cheese, tomato soup, herbal tea, and a little cup of raspberry sherbet for dessert, the family would call it comfort food and pronounce it good. My supper tray was good, too.
Back to the aging cycle. My hometown is a somewhat small city. My hospital room was on the sixth floor of a tower wing that hasn’t been around long. From my window, I could see the snowy and icy horizon far enough to recognize the large insurance company building that keeps a fair number of locals employed. After dark, the night lights identified another large building, one that didn’t exist when I was a volunteer in a striped pinafore: The Far North High School, La Petite’s alma mater.
I felt more like myself the next morning – less dizzy, able to walk to the bathroom without a walker, and feeling capable of making irreverent comments. That leg massaging thing? The one designed to help prevent clotting? This is a handy dandy little gadget. Someone should develop a non-medical version for cubicle workers. That list on the whiteboard? The goals I need to reach before I can go home? I call it my IEP. All too soon, I mastered the tasks on the board, signed my discharge information, and followed Chuck through the bitter cold to his Subaru and then, finally, home.
You might see:
I’m home for a while, resting and healing from a major fix (i.e. surgery). While I’m here at home with my pillows and blankets, you might expect posts along these lines.
- Closed Captioning errors. I plan to watch some mindless TV (is there any other kind?),and I’ll share more humorous errors with you. A few minutes ago I heard Chuck laugh out loud – the captioner had typed “she was out of termites” instead of “she’s out of her mind.”
- Pictures of Buttercup, the sweet big bunny. She adopted me last night and spent the entire night under a chair at the foot of my temporary home, the daybed in my office. When I got up to use the bathroom, she waited at the bedroom door for my return. I could see it in her big eyes: “Mom, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” She is a sweet and caring bundle of fur. Or maybe, just maybe, she wants to make sure someone is healthy enough to feed her.
- Book reviews, or at least book lists. I loaded my Kindle and browsed Paperback Swap dot com to prepare for this lengthy leave.
- Stories. I still haven’t decided how much needs sharing with the blogging world. If I start hearing “TMI! TMI!” in my subconscious, I’ll hit delete. Promise. Probably.
- Progress reports – mine, not my students’. I expect the healing process to be steady and proceed at a substantially faster pace than my last medical leave of absence.
And off we go, folks, into the next six weeks at the O.K. Chorale.
Prepping for surgery
It’s not always what it seems. I followed the doctor’s advice, drank lots of liquids, rested, etc. But in addition, I prepared myself for a six week (possibly) leave of absence to recover.
- Load the Kindle with reading material.
- Order a few books from Paperback Swap.
- Train a substitute teacher – no easy feat in an online school.
- Prepare all the files the online teacher might need. Store them on a jump drive for her.
- Buy new pajama pants.
- Stock up on lip balm and lotion.
- Renew any meds now – to avoid making extra trips out of the house later.
- Grind coffee beans!
- Create a place to rest and hang out. Daybed? Bedroom recliner? Couch?
- Set up blog posts so my dedicated readers won’t get lonely.
How’s that? Did I miss anything? If I did, it’s too late – unless I put Chuck to work.
When emails go wild
I like to include a reading or book-related quote with my auto-signature. It has my name, my school’s name, and my position (grade 5 and K-12 Music), and a quote. My dear, darling husband “Chuck” drops a hint when he thinks I need a change of quotes. Once he simply sent me a list of new quotes from which to choose. Another time, he paraphrased in such a way that I couldn’t keep my old quote. Simply couldn’t. For your perusal:
- The quote: Books are a uniquely portable magic. -Stephen King
- The paraphrase: Beer is a uniquely potable magic. -Chuck
At the end of a long day, the high school science teacher offered (by way of an all-users email, of course) a parody of the song The Fox entitled “What does the Sock Say?” Brilliant.
I’d been sitting on this image for a while, and it was the right time to share.
Then another more intellectual staff member posted a link to a parody called “What does John Locke Say?”
Let’s just say we’re at a crucial point in preparing first semester report cards. Anything goes.
Health News at the O.K. Chorale
No one has the flu.
Chuck’s kidneys are not, at the moment, stoned.
Amigo is in good spirits and preparing for Trivia Weekend, one of his favorite weekends all year long.
La Petite and her significant other will visit to go to a hockey game armed with teddy bears. Trust me. It makes sense.
And me? I finally reached my tolerance limit and told the doctor I was ready for a permanent solution to a problem that’s been happening on and off for the last five years. My surgery is Monday morning.
My recovery could take as long as six weeks. My substitute is trained and ready to take over my online school obligations. I have loaded my Kindle with books, I bought new pajama pants emblazoned with Dr. Seuss’ One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish. There’s coffee enough in the cupboard.
Deep breath: I think I’m ready.
Amigo’s stack of books
Audio Book Cartridges
Amigo enjoys reading and listening to books of almost any genre. Sometimes he gets inspired by something I’ve read, and sometimes a book on Public Radio’s Chapter a Day will pique his interest in an author. He relaxes on the couch or on his bean bag chair, makes himself comfortable, and listens to another piece of literature.
Once in a while, he recommends something to me. That’s when I head to paperbackswap dot com and add to my wish list.
And then, of course, I refill my coffee and settle down with a good read.