Oops!

This morning after Mr. Fixit went to paint at the trailer park, I decided to trim the short length of hedge at the end of the driveway. It was becoming difficult to see traffic coming around the corner. It was a good time to do it, because the temperature was only about 90 degrees.

I found the hedge trimmer and the extension cords and began the trimming. It’s a little bit hard for me because it’s a tall hedge and I have to hold the trimmer above shoulder height. In fact, on the low side (the ground slants) I have to hold it about head height. That trimmer gets a bit heavy.

As I was doing the sides, somehow or the other I cut the electric extension cord. Yep, lopped that sucker right off—with sparks, of course. What to do, what to do!? I changed my clothes, put on make-up, and headed for Lowe’s. I thought if I could find a new cord just like the old one perhaps I could neglect to mention the little mishap. The only orange one like the decapitated one was only 20 feet, and that wouldn’t do. I needed a 50 footer.
Dang! The only one I could find was red with a black strip. I think he will notice it’s not his extension cord.

I can just picture it now. He will come home notice the the injured orange one. His first question will be, “What happened to my extension cord?” The first question won’t be “Did you trim the hedge?” or “Did you get electrocuted?” I can see his upper lip get thinner and almost disappear as it does when he is p.o.ed. He will then tell me I bought the wrong replacement. I sure he wanted the heavy duty model, but they only had the medium one.

So here I sit near that road paved with good intentions, waiting the for the bus to take me to hell. But at least I will be able to see it coming around our corner. The hedge is now a couple of feet shorter.

Public Service Announcement

During my dental appointment in May I had a small problem that was so small I didn’t even mention it to the dentist.

After I was given the local anesthesia, the doctor went out of the room waiting for the numbing to take place. I was sitting in the chair reading when suddenly my left hand started to shake. The right hand was fine. It was so bad that I almost dropped the reader. It had almost passed completely before the doctor began his drilling, filling, etc. so I didn’t mention it to him. I think it was that same day when we sat down for lunch, the tremors hit again. This time it lasted only a minute or so. After that I didn’t have a problem until today. I assumed that maybe the stress of going to have dental work done was the cause. I have no problem having work done. My dentist is very good and there is very little discomfort.

Today, I had another appointment for another filling. As usual he administered the local and left the room. I was reading when my hand started to shake again. It wasn’t as bad this time. I could stop it by making a fist. It passed while he was working on me.

Before I left asked him if there is anything in the anesthetic that would cause tremors in my left hand only. He said that it could have very well caused it. He said that he used one containing epinephrine (synthetic adrenalin) to prolong the numbing effect of the drug.  He said he  was glad I mentioned it to him. He marked my chart, “No epi.” He said he would just have to work a little faster next time.

I don’t know why this happened. I have had lots of work done and never had a problem. I had no inkling the first time that it was a problem with the anesthesia. I only realized it today.

This morning  as I was sitting in the waiting room, I was thinking what a relaxing place it was. The television was muted, the lighting was low, the music, though vapid, was almost like white noise, and there were very few distractions. I wished that it would take a while before they called me. It’s not often that I have a chance to sit in a comfortable chair with soft music and comforting lighting and  read. I bet not many people have that reaction when waiting to be drilled and filled.

My PSA is that if you get the shakes in the dentist’s chair, it may not be nerves; it would be epinephrine. Be sure to mention it.

Watermelon

Mr. Fixit and I have very different tastes in food. He would eat rice three times a day if he could. I would eat potatoes four times a day if I could. I like most vegetables if they’re cooked the way my grandmother cooked them. It took him several years to eat green stuff. He loves fruit; I could do without it completely. He eats bananas like I would eat chocolate. The smell of ripe bananas makes me gag. I don’t like watermelon; he loves it.

The other day he bought a small seedless one and cubed it. He brought it out to have a little snack and asked me if I wanted some. I replied with a quick, but firm, “No thanks.”

I decided when I was a little girl I didn’t like it. It’s not the flavor so much as it is a couple of other little things. For instance, I can remember going on Sunday picnics with Nanny and Granddaddy in the park. Of course, Nanny didn’t use paper plates and cups like everyone else. No, she packed her second best china, flatware, and glassware. No hamburgers or hot dogs either. The menu consisted of fried chicken, potato salad, bean salad, sliced tomatoes, sometimes macaroni salad,  (That’s macaroni, not pasta. If it had been called pasta, it probably would have been considered a foreign food.) Sometimes she brought along mac and cheese. There was always watermelon in a big tub of ice.

I learned very quickly that it wasn’t for me. We didn’t eat with a fork: it was sliced and held in the hands. The seeds weren’t picked out; you spit them out. I hated the juice running down my face and neck. I hated the juice running down my hands to my elbows. I hated that stickiness on a hot day. The worst part was getting those slimy black seeds in my mouth! Ugh! Disgusting I thought!  And spitting? Under normal circumstances, “little ladies” didn’t  spit. And I was a “little lady” with a lot of tomboy thrown in.

Then I finally reached the age of four or five when I learned I didn’t have to eat everything on my plate to save the poor, starving children somewhere in the world (I never have figured that one out yet. How could my eating turnip greens help the starving masses?) and I also realized that it wasn’t being disrespectful to say, “No thank you, Nanny, I don’t care for any.” That's when I ate my last watermelon slice. And I don’t think I have  missed it at all.

However, I wonder now if I had eaten watermelon and turnip greens, would world hunger have been alleviated?

Note 1: My younger brother didn’t like it either. He said the seeds looked like bugs.

Note 2: I do like cantaloupe. Nanny served it in bite size pieces  we ate with forks.

Good Morning!

While my morning walk is not my favorite thing to do, I have come to terms with the fact that it must be done. It’s not only for the physical benefits, but I reduced my monthly outlay for insulin.

This is one thing that makes getting up and out by 6 am a little easier.

This was the view this morning before actual sunrise. Beautiful!

Baseball Weekend

Noah had a four game series this weekend. The weather cooled off a lot so I went to all the games.

In the first game, they played to a 0-0 score in the bottom of the seventh inning. The bases were loaded. Noah came up to bat. (For some strange reason, it seems he ends up in some sort of high pressure situation every game. It makes me crazy.) I bet he was sweating bullets. I think it was on the second pitch he hit a beautiful line drive and drove in the winning run. Yea, Noah! He saved the game!!!

They won both games Saturday.

Sunday the weather was still holding. It was very, very hot in the sun, but bearable if you could find shade. They won the first game Sunday. The park is nice because they bleachers are covered, and there was a nice breeze blowing.

The second game was scheduled for 4:30 pm. It was still sunny and breezy, but storm clouds could be seen in the distance. Since the game was being played at the big stadium in the park, the only shade was the inadequate covers above the seating. Jason decided to put up the canopy because the sun was lowering in the sky and the shades didn’t help much. There was a nice breeze up that high. The breeze became slightly under gale force. The canopy was anchored in the front with tie-downs, but the back was untethered. There was nothing to tie the cords to in the back. I was sitting close to the back leg of the canopy and would grab it and hold it when it threatened to flip. Jason said we need some way to hold it down. I jokingly suggested my purse. He teases me about how heavy my purse is. This is his solution to the problem. He’s a funny guy.

From the left: Jason, Mr. Fixit, and Alisa

(Click to enlarge for detail.)

Then, the sky darkened, the temp dropped about 20 degrees, and the wind picked up considerably.What started as a gentle sprinkle became a deluge. The game was called. We finally got everything together and went to the cars. My pants were so wet that there was a puddle in front of my seat.

The rain only lasted a few minutes and the sun shone again. The park didn’t provide a field crew and the pitcher’s mound was too muddy to continue. The game was called. We were ahead 1-0 but it was only the third inning so it couldn’t be called a win. Too bad they didn’t get the sweep.

Red Sky at morning. . .

You can’t see in this photo the bright, bright neon orange of the sun this morning an hour or so after sunrise. It was a sight to behold, as they say. It’s portent isn’t pleasant though. We’ve been having damaging thunderstorms every afternoon. If the saying is true, we will have more today.