Fleeting Thought:
Could I have possibly contracted Narcolepsy during this Minnesota winter?
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Noreen
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Noreen
A Few Therapeutic Stitches with Lots of Memories
The Spring Kite Adventure
At the time when I found out I was going to have surgery, I did prepare a few items that I could tackle as time went on in recovery. I had saved a few finishing stitches on this wall hanging for just this time. This particular panel had caught my eye as I could so easily link this print to actual events in times gone by.
When Carrie and Kevin’s dad Orlin worked at 3M in Hutchinson they often offered promotionals that were linked to products in their tape lines. Orlin brought home several black vinyl kites in the shape of bats. The vinyl was very much like the 3M electrical tape. What kid does not like to break out the kites when the spring breezes turn to warming winds.
When school schedules would allow, Kevin’s cousin Eric would stay with us and the boys made sure there were fun adventures and thus one of the kites came out of the wrappings. Orlin and I had a four harness rug loom at the time and the warp string used in the rug making process made for ideal kite string. A spool of rug warp slipped perfectly on a round dowel and the boys were ready.
The kite found the perfect gusts of wind and they played with the kite off and on during the weekend and the cool spring air plus some cookies in between made for a lot of fun. I occasionally would look out the window to the north to check on them and at one point I did notice they were venturing out into Bob Dascher’s plow field on various flights. The worst would be very muddy boots to clean up. This afternoon the yelling and screaming brought me up short and I realized they were far out into the plow field. I found boots and went to find out what was going on not knowing what I would find. The winds were perfect and the spool of warp on the dowel was turning like a well oiled wheel. Both little six year old boys were in tears and it took me a while to realize they both were man handling the dowel by tugging with all their might and as they tugged they were walking farther into the plow field. Where was the kite? Far, far off to the north was a little black speck in the sky. The bat kite had taken flight like no one would have ever suspected and the loom string was proving to be strong enough not to snap but not strong enough to reel in the kite. The roll of loom string had 500 yards on it and in the end if I remember correctly we had to cut it and cut the lose of the 3M vinyl black bat.
As I said earlier this wall hanging just brought back the adventures of Kevin and Eric on that spring day. All three of us were quite muddy by the time we were back on dry gravel land. Their tear stained cheeks had soon chapped in the brisk air but they had fought the good fight. Oh for memories and let’s hear it for 3M products.
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Noreen
As the shoulder is healing a good resting…
As the shoulder is healing a good resting position for sleep is becoming a challenge. Why waste the time rustling around when time to think through the day’s events can’t hurt. Dennis seemed surprised to learn through reading the blog that I labeled him a procrastinator. I assured him that when opposites attract it really works out well. Both of us being the same could be disastrous for our families. For me being a non-procrastinator came from eighteen years of being my father’s ‘go to’ person much like what my brothers were. When Dad was under a piece of equipment and needed additional tools the order was given and “don’t walk – run.” The needed was told to us and we moved – now. When we worked with Dad we knew if something was worth starting it was worth finishing. Something left undone was unacceptable. Dad was an amazing teacher and you never forget that which works. You can ask my daughter Carrie. She knows when I tackle a project it is head down and the head doesn’t come up until the task at hand is completed. Extremely frustrating for those that have to be in close proximity but never is there a need to work through incomplete projects long after the enthusiasm is gone. If I like a project well enough to try it – watch out and be prepared to fend for yourself until I am done. So – thanks Dad for life lessons that continue to serve me daily.
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Noreen
Procrastination is not a part of who I…
Procrastination is not a part of who I am. As winter is winding down I am very happy to have several projects well under way for total completion. Apart from getting the shoulder surgery over with, two counted cross stitch projects were in need of matting and framing for – for posterity of course. Untold hours of close eye to hand work is due the opportunity to be enjoyed for some time to come regardless of what environment they may be exposed to in time to come. I can’t wait to get a phone call from Michael’s that they are ready to be picked up. A trip to Old Alley Quilt Shop today to pick up the last of my pieced quilt tops that was patiently awaiting the chance to grace a family member’s bed is now beautifully quilted and ready for binding as soon as my right shoulder gives me the go ahead. A photo session will be needed in time to come for sharing. Think how the earth would shake if Dennis were also a non-participant of procrastination. Just to let you in on a little secret – Dennis holds the title of “Chief Procrastinator.” Gotta love that guy.
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Noreen
A multiple pot of coffee day as sorting…
A multiple-pot-of-coffee day, as sorting and sifting through junk mail that has come over the last several weeks is needed. Dennis is experiencing cabin fever and this may be just the ticket for him to find something to do other than harass me. Gotta love that man. Our recycling bin is emptied every two weeks and it is usually filled to the brink. I can only imagine what a family can collect. Over a period of time when recycling collection has been reviewed, our small county received a high rate of use per capita. Gone are the days when every home had a burning barrel in the backyard. Gone are the days of filling our landfills with items that can perhaps become my new vinyl fence or floor tiles.
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Noreen
It’s the first of February and the most…
It’s the first of February and the most going on at Stauffer Avenue is making sure the furnace filter gets changed.
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Noreen
Big Time Team Players
Always Up for a Challenge: My Hands
There is no chance that I take my hands for granted. Talk about team players. They step up to the plate regardless of the challenge literally at hand. The result of a lifetime of hard physical work is often targeted to our hips, our back, and of course what I can recently attest to is our shoulders. When the tasks are needed to be completed, the brain sends its message and more often than not the hands are the implements that carry the whole thing off.
There was nothing that set us apart from any other family of farm kids. The end of a pitch fork was second nature. The twine strings holding an 80-pound alfalfa bale were tackled many times before we thought to look for a pair of the yellow fuzzy chore gloves. By the way, they came in one size: “huge.” Garden tillers were also known as “a kid with a hoe.” Most Saturdays mom had me in the kitchen baking bread for the week that was to come. As I was in 4-H, the record keeping process included such a weekly task. Dough hooks on standalone mixers were not in our home and the hands tumbled and punched that dough to perfection.
I have no doubt that as the four pair of extra hands, aka: children of Raymond and Lena, left home there was a need for a second look at how things were accomplished on the farm. I also know that we returned many times to lend that hand when we were needed or if there was even a hint that we could give extra help. There came a time when my brother Michael took over the farming operation and my Mom and Dad continued enjoying some of their life’s passions as they took life a bit easier.
When I met my children’s dad I had star dust in my eyes and we struck out for Texas almost as we were on a mission to homestead us an acre of land – which we did. The acre of pasture had city water and sewer up to the property line and the rest was up to us. The blessing is we did not have to fight the frost line as is in Minnesota, but the little chicken house that was soon to be our home was towards the back of the acre. The Pundt Hardware in Riesel, Texas, sold each of us a shovel and we went about the task. My hands had quite the workout, and as my fingers became more slender, my high school graduation ring slipped unnoticed off my finger and is somewhere within the lengths of those trenches.
Through the 1960s Orlin and I experienced farming and having babies. The hands that used a pick ax to get frozen silage out of the silo for the milk cows gently caressed the little bodies of Carrie and Kevin when hugs were needed as they would follow behind me wherever I went on the farm site, getting their fair amount of bumps and bruises. Their tiny hands in mine: priceless. Holding them close as they loved being rocked to sleep for naps: more of a blessing than can be retold. As Carrie and Kevin have grown into adults, the warmth of their hugs as I pull them close to me with my hands on their backs give so much back to me. When grandchildren Megan and Nicholas slip their hands into mine I can’t believe the blessing they have brought into my life and I know I want more of that.
Many times as I continue enjoying my passions of sewing and handwork the hands need a bit of encouragement to get those fingers to bend and twist in the motion that is required for a finished product. That finished product takes longer to achieve than it used to, but I don’t mind. In life it is all about “if you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.” I have the will to continue trying new crochet patterns and new quilt patterns and I do not want to let go of the hand quilting. Twelve stitches to the inch is the goal. That would be the goal of a perfectionist, but not my goal. I know when to take some projects to the Old Alley Quilt Shop in Sherburn and when to still take that literal stab for my hand quilting.
Arthritis Loved the Thumb Joints
When I had this story rumbling around in my head I knew I would want hubby Dennis to be my photographer. Taking the photo of my hands lying flat on the dining room table was a no-brainer. When trying to take a photo of my open hands, it hit me just how much arthritis has enjoyed having its way with my hands. There is no longer the ultimate open palm to display. Wow. It took me back a bit, but only for a moment as I know the plans I have on the back burner for these hands and these ten fingers, somewhat swollen with arthritic joints. As I said, I was somewhat taken aback as it was as if I was looking at my Mom’s hands and how they looked in her later life.
Team Stauffer
My wedding ring has been made larger and must be worn on the middle finger as the ring can’t make the bend round the skewed knuckle. Everyday I wear my wedding ring to Dennis and also the wedding ring my Mom wore until it would not fit her expanding knuckle joint. I take encouragement every day in struggles that may come up just by having Mom’s silver band next to the band that shows me how important Dennis is to me. The decision for the second shoulder surgery could not have made without knowing that Dennis would be there every day, and not only predominantly for the physical help that comes as a part of my recovery. To this day and every day I need Dennis’ strong emotional support when mine can wane. I need the humor that Dennis offers when there is enough vanity left in me that I have humiliating and embarrassing thoughts and actions. Dennis allows me to laugh at myself after his eyes have met mine and I see the twinkle in his brown eyes and the laughter just busts out of both of us. I need the strength that Dennis offers as he leaves me to my own to get in and out of clothes when the lime green bathrobe is begging to be laundered rather than him jumping in for the helping hand. Yes, we made this decision for surgery as team players, knowing that as weary as the hands may be, they can go on to do many, many things to come, but once the shoulders were gone, the hands would pay a huge price. In closing up this story, I think my left hand with a bit of help with the right hand confined to a sling did just great.
I love being a part of the team that lives and loves here on Stauffer Avenue.
In life, please remember to give and have no remembrance of it, or take and remember it always.
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Noreen
Fleeting Thoughts:
I was amazed at the mileage a drop of honey, that originated on the kitchen floor, got as it traveled throughout the house. It must have been more than a drop — perhaps a dollop.
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Noreen
Calling It a Day Early
Today Dennis and I made as trip to the big city of Mankato to run errands. My first big road trip plus a fair representation of being dressed since the 10th of the this month. Michael’s, Sam’s Club and HyVee grocery store should feel honored that they were the chosen stops for shopping. I was so thankful to get home and grab some ice packs and my favorite blanket for a sofa break. The maiden voyage was successful and by all indications I am totally on the mend. Catch ya later.
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Noreen
It Felt Wonderful
After more than two weeks, last night I was able to sleep in my bed and it was —— wonderful. Soft flannel warm sheets and a winter weight quilt that seemed to snuggle around me never felt so good. I have had to sleep on my back with my right arm tethered in a tight sling while the shoulder was propped up sporting an ice pack.
Remember that Foley catheter that came home from the hospital with me? After having it removed after a week it was as if my plumbing system didn’t think it was suppose to hold any amount and loved sending warning alarms that it was time to pee. Not even making it to two hours there was the eye-opening realization that my body was talking to me. I know I was falling into the deep rem sleep as in the dream I would be in a scenario that I needed to go to the bathroom.
Dennis was on board full time during the day and there was no way I could wake him every several hours to help me get out from under sheets, quilts and extra pillows. The easiest route was to lay close to the edge on top of the bed with just a blanket that could be easily flipped back with my left arm, swing the legs to the floor and head for the bathroom, drop off the warmed ice pack and pick up a new one and slip under the blanket with the pillow supports never having been disturbed. For sure the “kiss” method. For those first weeks the last thing I wanted to do was to make the shoulder buck any more than necessary. There was no fear of me falling out of bed as mobility was not in the picture.
I still have to sleep on my back with all the remaining “must do” instructions, but the bladder has slowly been realizing that it’s O.K. to have fewer interruptions during the night. It has literally expanded its understanding of what was normal and now is getting back to that normal. After 18 days the discomfort of moving the shoulder is becoming less – so very much worth a little discomfort to get back to hustling out from underneath the warmth of flannel.
Working on the rounds of exercises I keep in mind how wonderful it will be to lay on my side during the night’s sleep. The ‘no pain no gain’ is the real deal.