Posts Tagged ‘snow’

Snow is here. I woke up to about an inch and a half which is now up to about three inches. Since no one had to go out today, it was a good day to read the paper.

We live in a small county with a weekly paper. It isn’t very large; two to three sections with maybe a total of seven pages.

As I learned today, our town has won $2,500 to do a survey of trees located in town right-of-way “last winter” and the survey is almost complete. Our town is three to five blocks long; depending on how you could classify the property that has a liquor store, pharmacy and Subway. Which may be the single most important section in town. You can have dinner, get drunk and get aspirin for your hangover in one stop shopping. So, when they told me that they were just now finishing up, I was a bit amused, to say the least.

Okay, they aren’t just counting them, they are noting locations, species, ages, conditions and other pertinent information; and all in an effort to prioritize aged and dying trees for removal. Since this is a tourist town, I suppose it is cheaper than a tree falling on a tourist. THAT is definitely not good for business. But, that’s only an aside (and perhaps the longest one on record).

The fun part of our paper is called THE FINE PRINT: It’s the Sheriff’s log.

When my grandson went in the Army, I tried to write him once a week and always included items from the Sheriff’s log. Now, grandson/son is in the Army, in Germany. When he was in basic, I sent him items from the Sheriff’s log too and he read them to his fellow soldiers. But, it seems that with the economy the way it is, the crazies have gone underground (looking for work?) and the crime rate has gone up. This is just not near as funny as it was, until today.

This one could have had serious consequences, so I don’t mean to laugh, BUT – What the **** was the woman thinking?

911 caller on * Road advises she fell down three flights of stairs under a refrigerator a few hours ago. Subject advises she did lose consciousness a couple of times then and has been throwing up since. She wants to know how long before ambulance arrives.

Why, in the world, would anyone, man or woman, try to move a refrigerator up three flights of stairs alone?

The other one that caught my eye was a 5 p.m call:

Caller advises a man is selling her son marijuana and he doesn’t need to do that.

You tell him, mama!

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It is in the high 60’s today, in Indiana.  I understand that in Casper, Wyoming, where we lived for ten years before moving back home to Indiana, they have had four good snow storms and are expecting ten more inches this weekend. 

I am still not used to the warmth and nicer weather we have by living less than fifty miles south of Indianapolis.  It is gorgeous today and I saw my first Christmas advertisement.  Good Grief!

It used to be that you had Halloween, the next day you saw adds for Thanksgiving and then, right around Thanksgiving the Christmas adds started.  Now, the folks at Hobby Lobby tell me they have already condensed the ornaments, since they have sold so many, and the Christmas television ads have started.

Just like Crazy Aunt Purl, and her fight against buying more Christmas decorations, I am a Christmas nut.  I have ornaments from both of my grandmother’s trees.  I love the season and I love the lights, smells, sounds and ornamentation of it.  However, it just does not last as long as it used to.

I remember coming home from school with crayon Christmas drawings, through huge drifts of snow , and how long it seemed before Christmas Eve.   I remember sneaking into the kitchen, while the others decorated the tree, and eating the whole package of chocolate covered wafer cookies.  I do not remember the throwing up which I did.

But, snow or no snow, and even though Christmas comes and goes in the blink of an eye, it is a warm and cozy holiday to spend with loved ones.  With or without sixteen rubbermaids of decorations.

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Sorry for the long absence. It snowed. The car has been stuck in the drive for six days. I threw up for ten hours one night and have been nauseous since. My mother had four nurses coming to her home.

Wait, you say. What was that last one? “my mother had four nurses coming to her home this week.” What does that have to do with not blogging, you ask.

Apparently, my life’s fun radar, goes totally off when my mother has to have nurses coming to her apartment. It has something to do with the first phone call, when she said: “I just had the absolute worse day of my whole life.”

A child of an elderly parent automatically assumes: she broke her hip, her best friend died, a man broke in and stole her valuable jewelry (which includes $5.00 rings you get when you order from the back flap of an envelope), she was evicted from her apartment, I don’t know but all kinds of things flashed through my brain and none of those things included, “A nurse came to my apartment and checked my pills.”

Apparently, THAT is what gives my mother the worse day of her life. Never mind the depression era she lived through, breast cancer she survived, the car accident that put her in back pain for the rest of her life, the tremor that does not allow her to handwrite legibly, a nurse came and checked her pills! The nerve!

The doctor thought it was a good idea, after mom got out of the hospital and the rehab/nursing center to have nurses visit her. I concurred. She would have a physical therapist, an occupational therapist and a nurse to oversee her new medications and take her protime level, at home, without her going out in the snow. My mother, after doing physical rehab in the facility, walked down the hallway of her apartment, without stopping to rest or panting. She also got into my car without help. She was stronger and more stable than she had been in three years.

But, do you know, that this week four nurses came out and each on separate days. It’s insulting, I tell you, and she will have none of it. Now, I wish some physical therapist would come out to my house to oversee my exercises. My left shoulder just does not feel like it is aligned right when I do my weights. I could use someone who knows what they are doing to watch me and correct me.

YEAHHH! See how I threw that in, just nonchalant like. I am doing my weights again. Mind you, I am at two pounds on some, but that will build up. Week one down!

Anyway, to sum up, anyone who wishes to report us, the doctor and me, for senior abuse, should call and do so as the torture of having nurses and therapists out to her apartment will last for two more weeks.

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Two things have arrived in southern Indiana today.  One is snow and the other is germs.  The snow is barely a dusting but the germ is pretty strong.


Here I sit, swollen throat, fever, ear aches, sneezing, and blowing; piled under six layers of blankets.  And, over there, in that other room, the kitchen, sit the ingredients to make four dozen plus cookies for the choir fund raiser that is due Thursday.


I applaud the choir for not selling overpriced tiny pies, or junk stuff, so I thought this was a great idea.  I just hope this bug is gone tomorrow morning, so I can bring in my contribution. 


I chose to make cream wafer cookies because they are bright and cheery and make a large amount of cookies, and brown sugar oatmeal cookies because they are only slightly healthier. 


Then, there is the half decorated tree staring at me.  The male members of the house have basically taken care of the tree for the last two years.  This means that I no longer have a Rubbermaid for each: glass ornaments, toy ornaments, lights, home decorations and Santas.  I like Santas.  But, this year as I open every Rubbermaid, I am finding everything in every one, so today I was supposed to just sort it all out and get finished decorating.  Not going to happen!


Bugs have their own plans and this one attacked last night.  Okay, I admit to overkill but I do not have a reliable thermometer and, as I could not get warm and was shivering in two sweaters, I took my temperature last night—three times.  I found three different thermometers but I don’t think they worked.  Any of them! 


So, it’s back under the covers for me and perhaps a nap.  Hope you are well.

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It is June, so you ask, why is she writing about Christmas stuff?  Because she is memory deficient and she a/k/a me, would have to write this now anyway and then save it in her Blog and then probably forget to publish it in December.  Besides, Christmas in June is nothing new.

I have made several errors in my life. (Quit laughing, Master’s Daughter) Okay, more than a few. One was having the lack of judgment to be married, for a short time, to a man my daughter’s fondly refer to as Hitler. My mother says he is the only person, on this earth, that she hates and she has to ask forgiveness for that when she gets to the Pearly gates.  I say, Hate him, Mom. He deserves it. 

Hitler had many horrible traits, which explains why we called him Hitler. Those traits are best left forgotten. He did have a few redeeming traits and one was a love of all things Christmas, including the Christmas tree, which he did not want taken down until the fire department showed up in June and said, “You have to take this fire hazard down.” It was a real tree and you can only water them for so long before they become tinder.

The perfect Christmas dinner, for Hitler, meant that the adults drover around town most of the day on Christmas Eve and picked up everyone’s favorite food from restaurants. With gas prices now, it would be a very expensive dinner. Since, his kids had a “traditional” dinner with his ex, and mine had one the next day at Grandma’s house, it was really a fun thing to do. The kids all loved it and it was their tradition. Which goes to prove that anything can be a tradition. It just needs to suit your lifestyle and family for it to last and be fun.

Christmas holidays have always been a big thing in my life.  Mom  decorated the perfect tree, I’m really thinking she was the original Martha Stewart, the cards always hung straight and filled the walls (remember when you were a kid and your self-worth was based on how many cards you got? “I got twenty valentines. How many did you get?”) Mom and Dad would work to make the house, inside and out, perfection. There were yard decorations to be hung and lighted, window decorations, indoor decorations and the tree.

One of my fondest memories of my brother was the year he taught me how to wrap a present. David may have had a touch of the Compulsive gene, because you never saw such a job of wrapping in your life. Corners were pressed and creased. I’m sure you could have bounced a quarter off that box. But, he was also artistic and they were beautiful when he was done. He loved Christmas too.

Dad, my brother and I would hunt for the perfect living tree. It seems like there was a lot more snow then, so it was snowing when we went and you could see your breath as you spoke. It went on top of our station wagon and, when we got home, if it wasn’t perfect, dad would work to make it so. Branches were actually added to our tree, if I remember right. I know it had to have the “bad” side to the corner and then dad and David put the lights on, while the mom directed them.

What was I doing while this went on? I was in the kitchen eating a whole box of chocolate covered sugar wafers. At eight, this is not a good thing to do on Christmas eve. You miss decorating the tree because you are heaving into the toilet. You would think this incident might have led to anorexia. Trust me, it didn’t.

Mom may have been the first person in the modern world to use actual toys on the tree. She had all the traditional glass baubles and lights, but she would also hang trinkets. These included fancy dangly earrings, or strings of beads she had made, as well as little stuffed animals and dolls. People would come to our house and marvel at her tree.

While recovering from surgery,  in 2007, I relinquished a lot of the traditions that, I am now learning, really robbed the fun of Christmas. I relinquished that little compulsive side of me who had to do the tree just right. I sat on the couch and watched the men decorate the tree. I laughed with them and Christmas was all the more special for the love that went on that tree, that year. It wasn’t nearly done, but the memories are even more rich, and that’s what Christmas is about.

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