Wednesday, September 07, 2011
...not necessarily in that order.
I've got an appointment on Friday with the GP. The appointment's been on the books for awhile - among other things it's time for the quarterly HbA1c - but I'm very interested in seeing what he comes up with for the BP. If it's again in the 120s / 70s, I'm thinking it might be time to discuss a GRADUAL (not like the last time!) decreasing of the dosage to taper off of it altogether.
And I'm going to bring up the knee problem. Other people I know who have knee problems of whatever kind are in general holding off on surgery. Unless something dire has gone wrong the NHS doesn't recommend them until a person is... I forget now. Older than I am, but I don't remember if it's 60+, 65+, or even 70+. At any rate, I ain't 'there' yet. But I'll see if he'll order x-rays with an eye toward referring me to the physical therapist.
I have an appointment next week for the annual eye check. I can't help it - God bless the N-H-S. Without them I wouldn't have any kind of medical service. I lost insurance in the divorce and haven't been able to find any kind of full-time work with good benefits like medical coverage. Himself had his own practice, so he was self-employed; of course, the NHS coverage applies to everyone here, though some companies have started adding 'private medical plans' to their bennie packages. I worry about that as I fear it will open the door to '...and X group is hereafter excluded from NHS coverage.' But in the meantime - everything is covered, even a pair of Rx glasses, so - GBtNHS, sez me.
I made an appointment to have my hair cut. (I would've said 'with the stylist' but I'm not sure what they're called anymore. Hair salon? Hair stylist? Cuttery? In my day they were 'beauty parlors' and the people doing hair were often referred to as 'operators.' I'm surely dating myself. Of course, I also remember when funeral 'homes' were funeral 'parlors' and 'human resources' was 'personnel.' Don't get me started.)
Not sure what to do about the hair. Wispy, super dry, thinning - and what there is of it tends to be wiry and coarse without being thick. Go figure. I'll debate it with the stylist (!) and see where that goes. Once again I find myself thinking about 'cut & color,' but I just know by the time I'm even a few months down that road I'll be tired of touching up gray (let's face it: white) roots, and I am leery that the thin areas will become even thinner. Eh. Oh, for the thick hair of my youth, lol.
We're still about two weeks away from the equinox but autumn is upon us. The heat has kicked on the last two nights - not a lot, not for long, but by early morning it runs for an hour or so. Plus of course the spiders trying to find a winter haven (hah, not in MY house) is another sign. There are still quite a few projects I want to get to in the yard before the weather gets too ratty, but there's also the light problem - the days truly are drawing down.
The first couple of years I was here the long days of midsummer and the long nights of midwinter were novelties. We're by no means above the Arctic Circle, but there's a major shift. Mid-June when the solstice hits we have less than seven hours of darkness; with false dawn, birds start singing around 4 AM. By mid-December, the opposite of that means we will have less than seven hours of daylight. I don't think I suffer from SAD, but that much darkness takes a toll now, and I slightly dread going into it.
I spent an hour yesterday talking to my aunt - in fact, I ran over the time that our calling plan allows (which means each minute over costs gazillion % more) so I hung up abruptly and called her back today. She's so much fun to talk to! Yesterday she gave me one name, first and last, for one of her mother's cousins and said she wasn't sure if the surname was maiden or married or whatever. Well, I found reams of information, just on the lead of that one name. Made my day, and I think hers as well, as today I had so much new stuff to tell her about.
Re yesterday's blog, spider killing, &c:
PROT358: The bathroom drains all have fairly fine 'screens' in them - but I'm not above having Himself remove a soggy bug body, so I will keep that in mind.
MOBYCARP: I can see where your daughter and I would have total understanding.
COMPASS_ROSE: Oh, he squashed it into a piece of toilet paper and flushed it down the toilet. But just hearing the thing crunch - well, it doesn't bear thinking.
BIGLITTLEWOMAN: Not only was I nekkid but I usually take my glasses off when I wash my face--!
ONEKIDSMOM: I very nearly titled this 'I don't like spiders and snakes.' Whatever happened to Jim Stafford, anyhow?
LYNMEINDERS: I sometimes think Himself is God's way of testing my patience now that the kids're gone.
For what it's worth I have dispatched puh-len-tee of insects in my time. The thing is, when I'm caught by surprise and when I don't 'have' to deal with them, I take the coward's... um, lazy... UM, easy (yeh, that'll work) way out.
More than one has been sucked right down the ol' Hoover though, lemme tell you. Probably the last thing they saw with their eight eyes was my horrified expression.
And on that note, I'm outta here. Goodnight, Sparklers, wherever you are!
Tuesday, September 06, 2011
Now, don't get me wrong: I don't suffer from arachnophobia. I don't go into hysterics every time I see a spider, or even a generic creepy-crawly. But the idea of bug bites and stings is horribly repellant to me (you may remember my 'Fear of Wasps' blog), and added to that is the distaste for much of what insects indoors represent - as in dirt and disease, among other things, not to mention that whole negative statement on the housekeeping.
When I'm not wearing my glasses I literally can't see my hand in front of my face. (Stay with me here - it's relevant.) Sure, I see a pinkish-pale blob, but nothing distinct. Even my fingers aren't clearly fingers, merely amorphous sausage shapes without lines or definition.
So imagine my surprise when I was drying my face this morning and came up out of the towel to be presented with this in the bathtub:
I saw it without my glasses on. How big does something have to be for me to realize it's there? Oh, I didn't see it clearly - it was farther away than my hands, and I wasn't exactly pushing forward to get closer. But I knew from the size and color against the tub wall exactly what it had to be. And hollered for Himself.
Like I said, I don't suffer from arachnophobia, but demmed if I'm going to TOUCH the things, even through the relative safety of a kleenex.
He studied it a moment, commenting "Well, it's certainly a big 'un!" then proceeded to muse if he should get a jar and capture it so he could (in his words) 'get a proper look at it.'
"Uh, yeh, but in the meantime if you would--"
"That's one of the biggest I've ever seen. You know, it's probably a female. It's a good 2-1/2 inches across, with that leg span. Maybe it's so big because it's about to lay eggs."
"Forget the entomology lesson! Would you just--"
"Technically, it wouldn't be 'entomology,' it would be 'arachnology,' since it's not an insect but an arachnid and--"
"SHUT UP AND GET THE DEMMED THING OUTTA THE BATHTUB--!!!!!"
I love the man. You know I do. And sometimes I re-e-eally struggle to remember things like the waterfall and the whippoorwill and his taking care of me when I had my feet operated on and his support when I went back to the US for six months to look after my mother.
Later when I calmed down I said "Look, I'm sorry I shouted at you. I was getting tense and I was afraid it would somehow escape the bathtub and end up who-knows-where. I have no problem with spiders and other wildlife outdoors, out where they belong. I just don't deal with them very well when they invade my living space."
"No problem," sez Himself.
"Good. It's the only reason I married you, y'know. Ha ha. Bug-hunter extraordinaire. Courage in the face of danger. I think monster spiders will always zoo me out, but I'll try to get a handle on the shouting business next time."
" 'sokay" sez he. "I expect a little hysteria now and then."
People, that's a whole different blog, but... I probably deserved it, what with the crack about his spider-killing prowess 'n' all. Even so, I think there are days when no jury in the world would convict me.
And with that, it's goodnight, Sparklers, wherever you are!
Monday, September 05, 2011
There's an old song called something like 'A Most Unusual Day.' Why is it no one ever seems to write songs about 'It Was A Typical Day' or 'Nothing Remarkable Happened Between Waking Up and Going To Bed'?
Today was a most usual day, and as you Faithful Readers know, I don't necessarily find anything wrong with that. It wasn't a holiday here, so it was just an ordinary day in the workweek.
We are in the process of sorting out a contractor to do the driveway - it's an old tarmac / macadam / whatever surface that is pitted and broken. It's held up for over thirty years so we can't complain. It's one of the things we want to make sure we finish before putting the house up for sale again in the spring. That meant meeting with two different representatives (sales people, really) to view samples, talk cost, all that.
And of course today was the semi-weekly supermarket trip. Plus kitchen-cleaning day, AND I did two loads of laundry. I'm telling you, I'm glad it rained all day - otherwise I'm sure there'd have been yardwork involved in there too.
Usually I enjoy typing (which is one reason my blogs, emails, and postings tend to be so long-winded - when I get them written) but tonight my wrist is hurting. No Beatleband; I'm gonna let the joint rest and see how it is tomorrow. Friday is another doctor's appointment, so I believe I'll bring it up and see what he says.
That's me done. Goodnight, Sparklers, wherever you are!
Sunday, September 04, 2011
A fellow Sparkler, YOGATIME, wrote a blog entitled 'Age Appropriate.'
She brought to mind an article I read years ago, written by Erma Bombeck.
The gist of it is advice to celebrate Life.
YT's blog has more to do with physical health; she writes about friends who curtail activities, sometimes quitting altogether, either due to injuries or to avoid them. The problem is, these people then don't replace the eliminated exercise with a different one - they just stop exercising altogether.
What really caught my attention was her line about those who say they don't want to 'injure myself for good before the great golden years arrive.'
To me, that's not logical. 'Use it or lose it' isn't just a trite saying. I find that as I age, doing less merely opens the door to 'genuine' old age. I'm finding the decline in physical strength, endurance, and flexibility seems to happen much more quickly than it did in my younger years, and what concerns me is reaching a point where it's not possible to recover what's been lost.
I'm not expecting to be able to do a four-minute mile. (Ya gotta laff, lol--!) But if I don't strive to do a twenty-minute mile, will the time come that I can't walk at all, because my muscles are too weak, my coordination too deteriorated, my endurance - my 'wind' - too far gone?
If all you can manage are five steps, slow, walking, just five steps, across your bedroom... Then you do six steps, each day, for thirty or sixty days... Then add another, so you are doing seven steps... Does it matter how long it takes you to work up to ten? Fifty? A hundred? Regardless how much older you become in the meantime, won't you improve?
Then today, I read a blog by another Spark friend addressing a very similar topic:
At any rate, there's my food for thought.
The State of Being: the big news, of course, was the BP Friday, and next Friday we'll see what the GP says. (Tho I'm not sure I'm in any hurry to repeat the 'Let's just stop the med totally' experiment, lol.)
Now, the flip side of that - the 'bad' news, if you will, although it's relatively minor - is the weight-loss plateau I've been on for weeks. Today, I broke it. FINALLY.
On the 30th of July, I was 157.3; today, I'm 156.6.
I know, I know, it's 'only' .7 of a pound. BUT: what it represents to me is that I'm not 'done' yet. This isn't some kind of setpoint beyond which I won't lose. (I'm still in the 'overweight' category BMI-wise.) That little bitty loss tells me I'm progressing again, that it will happen, and not to give up.
So when I wrote 'Only One Pound' a few days ago, I wasn't kidding about celebrating every achievement, no matter how small. After all, better eleven ounces than none, lol...
With that, I'm done. Off to television, Beatleband, and bedtime, in that order. Goodnight, Sparklers, wherever you are!
Saturday, September 03, 2011
We're 'only' on the 3rd of September and already I feel as tho I'm getting farther and farther behind. Oh, I don't think I'm any behind-er than I was on the 31st of August, I just FEEL that way, lol...
The people across from us have a gravel driveway. It's that loose, crunchy, sort of fine gravel. For example, you can always tell when someone walks into their driveway because of the loud crunching noise.
This morning someone drove into their drive, probably to pick Charlie up to go fishing or something. It was 5:30 AM. *sigh* It was too light and too close to a regular wake-up time so I didn't get back to sleep. Finally got up, wandered thru, got my breakfast, started my day.
So in one sense I had an early start - which would make you think I got more done because I had more time. Hah. I think I'm moving slower because I'm so tired. Ah well, you know what Scarlett said.
Nothing profound, nothing important, nothing funny or sad or noteworthy happened today. But I'm just as happy for peace and serenity. Goodnight, Sparklers, wherever you are!
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