Progress, not perfection

I am putting this up between a client this morning and one on my late schedule this afternoon.
The Footless Man is not having a nice week.  Yesterday he was cleaning up branches on the side of the house, and fell a foul of a nest of yellow jackets who had taken up residence in the trash can.  Four stings and his fastest gallop into the house later he was heavily coated with baking soda paste.  Baking soda water paste neutralizes the venom in the sting, they were minor bumps about an hour later.
He is still struggling with having the hoard disturbed and the intense anxiety that provides, so he had another trip into emergency room land.  I do my best not to get upset and angry, he isn't doing this to upset me.  All the same it can't help but be stressful.
I have been trying to offset some of the stress with exercise, (Commuting by bike) and had a reward on my way home this afternoon.
I spotted a crane on the bank of the Poudre River standing still as a sculpture.  I stopped to watch, and saw him wade out, dive and come up with a six inch trout.  He took it onto the bank, inspected it and moved around to the tail. Then in three sinuous gulps he slid the whole thing down his throat and into his gullet.  I could see the fish shape slide through the feathery tube and into his belly.
With the show over I went on.  You can bet that I am going to be checking that bank to see if he is there this afternoon.  Maybe I can get a photo.

whine

It's hot.  Every damn day right now.  My arthritis that is worse in the heat has kicked in and my hands and fingers are inflamed and painful.  I am drinking a half gallon of cold tea all by myself every day and it most likely isn't enough.
It is too hot to ride a bike after ten in the morning. 
I am stressed out because The Swordsman is temporarily moving back home (Over all a good idea, but stressful none the less) to re think how he goes about his life's purpose and get some counseling.
This has meant that some needed cleanup, furniture moving and stuff removal is happening.
But that means that The Footless man is having his hoard disturbed and he is therefore an anxious mess.  When He is an anxious mess, his blood sugars become even more unstable.  (On top of that he is angry and defensive about being anxious and having unstable blood sugars).  so I have a beloved husband who is temporarily cranky, and can sail into loopy and uncooperative at a moment's notice.
The cleanup has brought out just how much Michael the elderly cat has been doing cat graffiti in three of the four bedrooms, which will involve a rug doctor and a lot of work to get them livable, which needs to be done  NOW.
The Swordsman is upset at needing to move back, it didn't figure in to his plans to have to come back home to regroup.
He is defensive and touchy as well.
I am so tempted to move to a studio apartment with a pot for ramen, and all my sock yarn plus a bathroom to myself and let the Footless Man and the Swordsman sort it out between themselves.
At present I am going out to dump some garbage, by myself.
Alone.
 

Fashoom

About two weeks ago I was sitting with a friend who is waiting for the next step in her healers progress, and we visited the concept of fashoom.
Fashoom is the experience of moving through a healing process at lightning speed leaving you breathless, wild eyed and light years along in your growth and maturity process.
I have been sitting and waiting for the wave to hit and not knowing what I am waiting for. Just that it will be sudden, and that keeping my balance might be difficult.
From where I sit I can see the wave starting to crest off in the distance, and I can see that a good part of the progress isn't even my wave.  I am off balance, unready, and I can't say that I am even slightly willing.  It doesn't matter.  Here it comes.
F-A-S-S-H-O-O-O-O-O-M!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Letter to the sprats

Dear Sprats,
I had a fine day yesterday visiting you all, it was good to see you in your respective nests.
However I feel the need to make this announcement:
The next time you come up to visit me in my nest, I shall be delighted to see you, take walks with you and talk with you on the many cabbages and kings that interest us both.  If on this visit you leave some of your very important belongings in my care, they aren't going to be driven down to your place.  You can retrieve them in your own time and with your own vehicle.  I am not doing this again.  I am too tired and the weather is too hot.
Love,
Ma.

short sharp learning curve

Things that people told me that they had to learn the hard way.

1. Turtleneck shirts and halo head braces do not work.
2. If you are in a halo brace, you can't look down to aim when you pee.
3. you can't wear a hat in a halo brace either.
4. Lock  both the wheels of your wheelchair when you are on a slope.
5. pull up your pants and tuck in your shirt before you put the oxygen tube in your nose.
6. If you are splitting wood from a wheel chair, Don't lock the wheels.
7. If you have a bike and an oxygen tank, swing your leg over first, then put the tank in the basket.
8. If you have a bike and an oxygen tank and pannier baskets, think about what you are doing before you swing your leg over the seat to get off.
9. Be sure that your prosthetic sock is clear of the locking pin before you jam your stub in the socket
10. Make sure that your leg is on and secured before you stand up.

Got any more?

Things you can do with a cane

I was watching the Footless Man maneuvering his way through the front door with his wheelchair and his cane.  I particularly admire the skill and dexterity with which he reaches out and hooks his cane around the door knob and shuts the door behind himself.
Over the last day or so I watched him with his cane.  He uses it for balance, to fish things out of crevasses, off higher shelves and out of the trash.  He checks depth on curbs and stairs, pokes things, moves the cat out of the way, pushes buttons, flips switches, and gets extra consideration for his slow moving self all with one useful tool.
It looks so good maybe I should have one too.

Father's day

Dear Dad,
I took the day off to putter about in the kitchen, and found myself holding the wooden spoon that you gave to me back when you were teaching me to make bread.  It is the spoon that I reach for most when cooking, and I not only still have it it is in pretty good condition considering forty +  years of hard use.
I remember the brick loaf that I created ( raising time? how about fifteen minutes?) in my eagerness to try making bread.  I also recall that you actually helped me bake the brick, and then even ate a slice.  I was going from good old Betty Crocker who always managed to add in complications that would discourage anyone starting out.  Pro's know when to deep six the instructions, beginners don't.
The next Saturday morning you sat with me and took me through the entire process.  Mixing, kneading, and putting the bowl on the television to let it rise, on to the shaping, final rise and the end product. That was the beginning of really feeling that I had a place in the kitchen.
Bread has been a big part of cooking and kitchen work between us, dad.  I can't think of anything that makes for a better smell in the house.  To me there is nothing that is better than the heel from a fresh loaf spread with butter and melting as I eat.
I still remember supper on baking day where all the heels were taken off the loafs so that they could be eaten fresh.
I passed it on to the boys dad, They may not be using it but they know how, and when the time comes, your gift will be there for them too.
Happy Father's day.
Love Cath

All these years later, I still get a thrill when I take the raw ingredients, and there ends up being food on the table.