We All Need . . .
We all need a safe hiding spot. Butter Ball’s hiding spot
is in the pot of the large Palm plant that is now in the garage
porch after being brought in from the Koi pond.
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Noreen
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Noreen
It’s a Heavy Fog to Lift
Since I have turned 70 years young, I am a true believer in having a fall checkup at the medical clinic and the eye clinic every fall. I do not like surprises when it comes to health issues whether it is someone else or me.
The eye checkup is now complete and I am sporting lenses, with which I now have no problem reading fine print. As the checkup continued, there was discovered in a far, far corner, a hint of Macular Degeneration. Dr. Tim was not concerned and suggested a vitamin that has been developed for optimum eye health. Heck yes, I’ll take it. What my body doesn’t absorb will pass out of my body through the urine. My mother was diagnosed with Macular Degeneration in her 70s. There is no doubt that my Mother loved me so that she would share. Yearly eye care: check.
After appointments were made at the medical clinic, I almost needed a reminder much like the Tom Tom that is loaded on the GPS in vehicles. The Mammogram is an old hat process. I have had so many, but getting the news that all is well remains as music to my ears. The doctor checked on my progress with the two new shoulders, and of course, he had to get out his little rubber mallet to clank on the titanium knees. Everything was progressing nicely. Several years ago a back X-ray revealed the last vertebra on my back had stepped out and a second X-ray was ordered this year to see if conditions have changed. Forget that second X-ray report . . . at this time I am waiting to hear and see the results of the MRI. With the speed, much like Super Man’s, the MRI was ordered. The orders stated words to reflect “lack of stability.” The words did burn into my gray matter.
This morning with several really good pills in me to make me lie very still, I was in and out of a fog. I did get some silly thinking done in between the clunks and bangs of the MRI machine. My drugged mind almost found the load noise comforting. I found it ironic that this weekend my computer fellow had to put a new hard drive into my laptop as it had crashed while data was being reloaded. The laptop had been running really slow for some time. My back had really been a pistol for some time, and I felt myself slowing down on activities that I would have breezed through just a few months ago. My hard drive . . . my spinal cord, may have been on the fritz for some time.
I know I will hear in several days as to what the radiologist will have to share. Just as in any medical event in the past, I will pull up my bra straps and do what is suggested. I have so much life to experience, and I intend to meet this challenge head on. Many grandmothers in times past would never have had the opportunity to delve into their health issues, let alone foresee a possible solution.
Life is good. The heavy fog of the MRI drugs are lifting and it’s time to hustle up some supper. Catch ya all later.
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Noreen
Awesome Fall
This Robin has a huge choice for a snack from our Ornamental
Crab Apple Tree. It truly is an awesome fall. -
Noreen
Fleeting Thoughts:
There is nothing sweeter in my memories than picking up my children when they were toddlers and fixing all their boo boos. Priceless.
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Noreen
Adventures on Stauffer
The Northen Red Oak puts on a great fall showing.
Yet another nice day given to us, so outside, here we come. Potted plants seem to avoid the first few frosts, but in time the colors wane and their prime time is past. When I began the work outside, my fingers were cold with the mid-40 degree temps. I had hoped the sun would have been there right from the start,
but that took a bit before the fingers felt just enough air temperature difference when the sun did show itself to feel good. Sunshine makes this time of year the most beautiful possible. I truly love being outside. There are not enough colors in an artists pallet to copy Mother Nature.There is no place safe from Butter Ball. He is the most curious cat Dennis and I have ever known. Honey Bunny is our first garage kitty, but she has had an attitude from day one: “Don’t pick me up and don’t expect me to sit on your lap . . . I’m not doing it.” Butter Ball is usually only one tail length from where the action is and ready to be petted. Yesterday when the fellow from the lumberyard was here and had used the six foot ladder to work on the garage opener, Butter Ball was on his hind feet with his front feet on the first rung of the ladder, ready to get in on the action. Big time nose problem is what that cat has. Come to think of it, his nose is always a bit smudged.
I have had bad luck with a concrete bird bath. In the spring, the black birds would clean their nests and drop the goodies into the bath. After that time of the year the algae was hard to control. The last several years I have put dirt in the top and planted my Hen and Chicks in it. They have very shallow roots and there is always a crown of green to enjoy. This time of the year, Dennis takes the top and nestles it in the flower garden so the leaves will cover it and protect the plants from freezing out. Dennis had no more set the bird bath top down and Butter Ball was in it with both front feet clawing at the cactus and soil. There was no stopping that kitten from playing in his next new toy. We finally had to cover it with a grate and it was laughable watching Butter Ball trying his darnedest to get at the soil.
My next best choice to get the cat waylaid was to head out to the far gardens and begin putting stakes in the ground to mark where the Hosta would be appearing next spring. The romping and stomping never quit until I did. The little fellow makes a great shadow.
A hard day of gardening calls for Butter Ball
to have a nap with his blue teddy bear.There is a down side. Butter Ball follows us right up to the back door of the house and is brought up short when we get in the house and get the door closed before he can follow us in. I am sure this does puzzle him as he is right behind us any other time. Letting him in the house one time, knowing that we do not want a house cat, would be very cruel to Butter Ball when it would not be usual and customary. The garage porch is heated all winter with various chairs sporting cushions stuffed with odds and ends of quilt batting to curl up on. Dennis spends a lot of time in the porch watching TV or entertaining fellows as they talk shop about gun collecting. Butter Ball’s existence will be limited to the porch and will not lack for attention, warmth or food. I am just not ready to cat proof the home nor try to protect the home from those busy claws. As winter becomes serious, it will give Honey Bunny a chance to spend more time with Butter Ball. Right now they are normal siblings: Honey being the biggest and oldest, is swiping and hissing at the wee one. Honey Bunny will soon realize that this little nurtured Butter Ball may soon out-weigh him. Welcome to the real world.
In life, please remember to give and have no memory of it, or take and remember it always.
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Noreen
Today would be a good day to be raking leaves and letting the fierce north winds take them far, far away. By the looks of the backyard, Mother Nature is being quite self sufficient, with no rakes needed.
Small town service is still very much appreciated. Dennis’ garage remote to open his pickup garage door has been on the blink all summer. The overhead opener is old enough that purchasing a new remote off the shelf and programming it with a few flicks of a finger . . . isn’t possible. Yesterday, a fellow from Overson Lumber came and made a house call. Oh yes, employees of our downtown businesses are still allowed to take care of long-time standing customers at their homes. After a time the problem was totally taken care by bypassing existing sensors and configuring new messages from the opener to a remote unit.
Now, when the temps plunge, a poke at the remote will get the door open and Dennis will no longer need to get out of the pickup, walk into the service door to punch the sensor on the door frame, and then get back into the pickup. Getting exercise has nothing to do with it, it is the natural gas furnace pumping it’s heart out during the process of manually opening the door.
Life of Stauffer remains very sweet.
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Noreen
Autumn to the Max
About two more months of this type of weather would really be perfect. On the downside, I wonder where all the Boxelder bugs crawl out of when the fall sun is this warm? Is there any earthly good that can be accredited to them?
Today seemed like a good day to roast a chicken with a side of baked acorn squash for supper. Of course, buying a roasting chicken can’t hold a candle to the ones that we raised when we lived at South Branch. Those hens didn’t walk, strutting their stuff. They waddled. Every hand that was available would be called into duty when the fall days determined these beauties were heading for the freezer. Feathers flew as fast as the chit chatting and before we knew it the deed was done. Good memories, good eating.
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Noreen
Just a Great Day
Sunny, but cool today. The air smells like fall and if my nose were not to work, the amount of trucks hauling grain past our home is a sure sign. Trucks? What am I saying? Farmers now have 18 wheeler semi trucks to haul their products. The days of the old wooden flare boxes are no more.
I really enjoyed the workout at the Super 8 pool this morning. The manipulation of muscles, tendons and joints in the water would equate to me having to be picked up off the living room floor with a pancake turner.
This afternoon I had coffee with a gal that worked for me in the late 80s. Her retirement apartment is cozy and it is topped off with a second bedroom that makes a great sewing room. Chatting over coffee and checking out some quilt patterns made for the afternoon to go quickly.
As I pulled into the driveway after my coffee date, the little red Pickup followed me right in. The boys are back from their trip to Nebraska. A few thousand miles on the odometer attests to the fact that they had a great time. It no longer surprises me when Dennis returns from a road trip much earlier than what he had estimated when they left. Both Dennis, and his son Ken, having trucking in their blood, it is petal to the metal, and it’s called a road trip. I am very thankful it was a safe trip for them and they came home with smiles to spare.
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Noreen
A great day was had here on Stauffer Avenue. Dennis and I had done so much work getting the yard and the exterior of the buildings checked out and fixed up before winter, it was time to spend a bit of time cleaning in the garage porch. Oh, I had company to help. I could barely move a chair cushion without Butter Ball having to inspect the site. I caught breaks periodically when a bird needed to be chased off the patio or an interesting leaf caught his attention fluttering across the yard. At one point, Butter Ball came charging into the porch from the back garden and proceeded to plunk down a dead mouse. He would have continued batting it around if I had not just gotten a paper towel and deposited it into the garbage. Butter Ball sniffed the carpet for a long time wondering what had happened to his prize. An amazingly entertaining little wonder that has adopted us.
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Noreen
Ye-Haw
This morning, bright and early, Dennis and his son, Ken, left in the red Ford pickup for the far reaches of Nebraska to visit rancher friends. It’s branding time as the ranchers take a head count of cattle roaming the open pasture lands. Dennis and several others would go yearly for hunting in the era of the 60s and 70s. Ken even spent one of his summers as a teen helping with the ranch work of cattle.
Dennis doesn’t have a bucket list per say, but when Ken came from Arizona for a family funeral this last week, it was almost meant to be that father and son would make tracks back to Nebraska and revisit times gone by.
I got the full lecture from Dennis of the livestock chores here on Stauffer Avenue that I need to attend to while he is gone. Ah yes . . . the cats and the Koi. I have it totally under control, and no doubt Dennis will be doing his own head count when he returns.
Dennis and I had been preparing in the event this trip would materialize for him. The list went something like this: yard work: check; patio furniture put away: check; the last mowing of the yards: check; house washed off: check; and instructions for me not to use any type of ladder while he was gone: check.
I know the guys are going to enjoy the trip. It’s quite difficult for these two not to find something to visit about and whatever is spoken of in the little red Ford pickup . . . stays in the little red Ford pickup.
