Happy, Little, Time Waster

 

12Oct1974 "The Troubadour Song" - Tommy & Dick Smothers (The Carol Burnett Show)

The Friday Five Good Things

 Five good things that happened this week.

1. With the Nor'easter predicted I'm so glad the Eldest had the  weekend off.

2. We survived the Nor'easter. I don't think it was as bad as predicted in my area.

3. The kitties didn't freak out when the groomer came to clip nails.

4. Looks like Blogger has finally updated the blog roll again

5. A warmish day so Teague and I headed to Dairy Queen for lunch which included a mini Blizzard for a last hurrah for Summer weather.

How was your week?

TBT Reprints from CJ's Whine and Cheeze

   In 2003, Ma had a stroke. Dad was her full time caregiver until he he had a car accident that totaled the car. So in 2006, I became their chauffeur among other jobs.

At the time, to deal with the stress of running two households and working, I kept a blog entitled CJ's Whine and Cheeze. Egged on by some friends who enjoyed the first read through, you'll see your part when it comes by.

Sunday, December 23, 2007

The Caged Bird Sings

Dad’s side of the story.

A week of snow was over. I hadn’t heard from the Weebles. Wasn’t sure if no news was good news, but I was worried about the threat to lock Dad out in the snow.

“Hello?”

“It’s me. How’ya doin?” I was relieved to hear his voice.

“The usual.”

“Did you go singing yesterday?”

“Of course.”

“Did she lock you out of the house?”

“Yes.”

I laughed. Ma was always as good as her word.

“What happened?”

“I went singing. When I got home she had all the doors locked.”

“How did you get in?”

“Well, I was in the garage, looking for some tools to take the door [inside door from garage that leads to a small porch off the kitchen] off its hinges, but I didn’t have the right tools. I do now, though!”

I didn’t want to tell Dad how ridiculously easy it was to break into the house. Himself used to help me all the time when I was a kid and either lost or forgot my house key. One didn’t need to remove the door hinges, and the only tool needed was a screwdriver.

Dad was amazingly calm, and he laughed as he related the details. I expected him to be singing arias in tongues about Ma.

“So, how did you get in?”

“Well, like I said, I didn’t have the right tools so I was just about to walk over to Stop and Shop and get something to eat and @#$@#$ her!”

I didn’t mean to laugh.

“She must have heard me banging around in the garage,” Dad continued. “And she unlocked the screen door.”

He didn’t relate whether there were more fireworks, and I thought it prudent not to ask. I was just relieved to hear he wasn't in the hospital with a severe case of hypothermia or frostbite.

“Well, I just wanted to check to see if things are ok.”

“I appreciate it. Listen, I’m not going to tell her you called.”

“Ok.” Just Dad’s little way of tit for tat.

Ma’s side of the story

Ma called to chat. Dad must have gone out and she was lonely or ticked at him, or both.

Curiosity got the better of me.

“Did he go singing?”

“You know him.”

“Did you lock him out of the house like you said you would.”

“Of course!”

Like I said, Ma's as good as her word. With Dad out of the house, she doesn't have control over him.

I laughed. Couldn’t help it. Jackie Gleason’s show The Honeymooners is still going strong and Ma and Dad have the lead roles.

“What happened?”

“He was in the garage yelling and banging around.”

I had the image of the Flintstones with Fred locked out of the house after he tried to toss the sabertooth cat out for the night. Wilma! And Fred pounding on the door.

I lost some of the details and caught her explanation, the crux to the matter.

“Well, he goes out of the house and he leaves me for hours all alone. I’m afraid to be alone now if something happens, I have no help.”

Six or seven years ago now, Ma had a stroke while she was home alone. Dad had gone singing. Ma had gone outside to sweep leaves from the back walk when it happened. She sat outside on the ground for two hours until one of the kids coming home from school happened to hear Ma’s call for help.

“Still, you shouldn’t lock him out of the house.”

I could see her shrug an I don’t care.

I’ll have to remember to play the hole card next time. If you lock Dad out of the house, and something happens to you, how will he get in to help you? How will the rescue people get in? Maybe I should leave a screwdriver under the front mat.

Adventures of the Poor, Little Boob

  This journal is about my journey with DCIS which began in January 2024. Ductal Carcinoma in Situ. A form of breast cancer. I didn't tell many people. Family, a handful of close friends. I didn't even tell my bosses at the museum where I teach. Somewhere along the line after much prodding and poking, I decided the My DCIS Journey was too boring so retitled the journal Adventures of the Poor, Little Boob.

The Poor, Little Boob has been cancer-free since June 0f 2024, and still has another year of taking hormone therapy and being monitored by an oncologist. My target date for ending the medication and this journey is June1, 2027

After meeting with the surgeon at Dana-Faber Cancer Institute in Boston, I was supposed to meet with the surgical oncologist. She wasn't available so arrangements were made the following day to meet with her over Zoom so I didn't have to make the trip into Boston again.

She told me radiation treatment after the surgery may not be needed, but that decision would be made based on the lumpectomy pathology report. If radiation was required it would be done Monday through Friday for however many days of treatment. I asked if I could have the treatments at the Milford Campus so I didn't have to commute to Boston for several days or live in a hotel close to Dana-Farber. What a relief to hear, yes, that can be arranged.

T Stands for Patrick's Irish Pub

 

Our last night in Weirs Beach we decided to treat ourselves to dinner at Patrick's Irish Pub in Gilford, New Hampshire. This fun leprechaun greets diners as they enter the restaurant. 

Since it was Saturday night the place was hopping. A young man was singing Irish tunes in the bar. The crowd loved it as they were clapping in time to the music. We were given our choice of eating in the bar or in the quieter dining room. We chose the dining room. 

There were lots of choices on the menu. I decided to go with a special of lobster crabcakes with cottage fries and Coleslaw. Teague isn't really a crustacean fan, but she wanted to try something different so she ordered the same. 

We both decided that the lobster crabcakes were amazing and a good choice. I see I forgot to take a picture of my unsweetened ice tea with lemon. You'll have to content yourself with looking at the water mugs behind the leprechaun in the first photo.

Drop by hosts, Bleubeard and Elizabeth's blog to find out what the rest of the T Stands For gang is up to. If you want to play, include in your Tuesday post a beverage or container for a beverage. Don't forget to link your blog to Bleubeard and Elizabeth's page.

Monet

 

and Miro decided to pose along side Pinky and Clyde. I am submitting this piece to the Worcester Art Museum's Art of the Macabre art show and needed to test to see that it would remain upright.

The piece was actually done as part of the homework for the 26 Seeds masterclass I took with Reggie Ezell in 2017.

When the original call for entries came out, I was busy with classes and didn't have time to do something brand-new. Then the Education Department extended the deadline for entries. I remembered this piece and decided to give it a new life. 

On a trip to the Dollar Store, I had purchased a doll for a Halloween decoration. Himself and I went back because I remembered there was a pink doll and an orange doll. They would make perfect heraldic supporters. 

There wasn't time to have the piece properly framed. I had a white mat and cut some chipboard for the backing. Standing up, the edges were rough so I covered the edges with Washi tape decorated with spider webs.  The dolls are attached to the piece by min-bulldog clips under their ghost sheets. The dolls, spider, and the ghosts from Pacman fame (right to left: Inky, Pinky, Blinky, and Clyde) all got a makeover with googly eyes.

The text is from a Scottish prayer:

From ghoulies and ghosties

And long-leggedy beasties

And things that go

bump in the night

Good Lord deliver us

How Does Your Garden Grow?

Waxing Gibbous Moon and cloud

Sunset the night before the Nor'easter. I thought because of the saying Red sky in the morning sailor take warning. Red sky at night, sailor's delight, this storm would fizzle out. 

Gusty winds blowing the Fall decorations didn't bother the goldfinch having a snack at the feeder. It's 4 pm Saturday as I write this. The storm was supposed to be furious at this hour. It isn't. I am not complaining. I wish the weather dudes wouldn't hype the storms.