Power of the Pacemaker

Mom has returned from the hospital. She handled her pacemaker surgery like a pro. When I wheeled her in to Independence Village, her assisted living complex, yesterday (she uses a walker), she was warmly greeted by all her buddies who knew where she had been. I got her settled in her apartment, checked with the site's nurse about her post-op care, and then headed home.

This morning, I called Mom to find out how she was doing. I'm happy to report that she is fine and everything seems to be back to normal. She is out and about. She and her lady friends are back to gossiping about all the latest scandals at Independence Village, as I've reported previously.

Not only that, it seems Mom's new pacemaker may have an additional--non-medical power. Mom has discovered that a single gentleman in her complex also has a pacemaker. It seems he sought Mom out yesterday when she returned from the hospital so that they could "bond" over their common concern. Mom was all a titter over this interesting development when she spoke to me this morning, although she was quick to add that she hadn't spent too much time conversing with the man for fear of causing tongues to wag (because, believe me, at Independence Village, tongues do wag). I just hope he doesn't want to show her his incision and have her show him hers.

Even so, Mom said she envisions forming a pacemaker club. She is planning to search out other pacemaker wearers (owners? recipients?) at Independence Village who will gather regularly to discuss (commiserate about? brag about?) their pacemakers. If anyone can do it, Mom can.

What do you think?

(photos from www.ugo.com and www.ask.metafilter.com)

Pacemaker Day

Today is the day my Mom goes in for her pacemaker surgery. I'll be heading out in just a while to take her to the hospital and will probably be there with her most of the day. This is just a brief note. I'll update you on her condition later.

p.s. Update at 5:30 p.m. Just arrived home. When I left the hospital Mom was wolfing down a bowl of chicken noodle soup. She pronounced the surgery, "a piece of cake!"

Mechanics of Bra Repair

Let me be clear right up front. I can't sew. Back in junior high school when all girls were required to take Home Economics and I was forced to make a dress--it fell apart after one wearing (my husband Milt was required to take shop class and his creations had similar results). Even so, I do make repairs on my clothes when they need it. I can replace a button, fix a ripped hem, and mend a split seam. I don't like doing any of this but it's cheaper than buying new clothes--and I'm cheap.

Bras, however, are a completely different story. A bra is not just another item of clothing that you can sew up if it gets a hole in it. Bras are marvels of engineering. They may be constructed of cloth, but what they do and how they do it is nothing short of amazing. Repairing such a unique device requires technical skill, knowledge--and a dash of creativity. It requires mechanical daring-do.

For example, last night I repaired two of my favorite bras (I say favorite because I've had them for years and have repaired them many times. I know. Many experts would decry this obsessive attachment to mere pieces of underwear, but I become very close to my bras--physically and emotionally). Here's a photograph of a white bra with lace cups that I love. The lace was starting to come unraveled and I had to sew the strands together to tighten them up. Lace in bras is somewhat like the cables on the Golden Gate Bridge. If one breaks, you can't just keep letting cars drive across; you need to fix it right away because all those cables are interconnected and when one goes, the others will soon follow. But lace is hard to repair; it's very delicate and when you sew one part tight, another part opens up--an engineering nightmare!

Then, take a look at this nice beige underwire bra. It is experiencing a common problem of many underwire bras--the wire has exploded from its container and is jutting out. You can see in the picture that this wire is coated with a plastic tip which makes it just a bit less painful when the wire pops out unexpectedly and pokes you right in the softest skin under your arm. Underwire bras are like spring mattresses with a married couple sleeping on top. If the springs aren't strong and firm and well contained, one partner can easily go rolling into the other. Underwire bras keep the couple sleeping comfortably on their own side of the bed, so to speak. Unfortunately, replacing a popped wire in an underwire bra, is another feat of mechanical genius. The little suckers never want to return to their original locations. I usually have to hold the bra with my feet and hammer the wire back in with a heavy object.

I spent hours repairing my two favorite bras and am happy to report that they are now as good as new. There should be a course in bra repair. Do you repair your bras?

(photos from www.kaduka.wordpress.com and www.sheknows.com and www.bedzine.com)

I'm a Baaaad Housewife!

My hubby Milt doesn't ask much of me as far as housewifery goes. Just cook regular meals (like once a week, maybe) and vacuum (luckily I have my Roomba to help with that) and keep him supplied with clean clothes. This last duty requires that I do laundry--not the worst chore in the world as I am lucky to have my washer and dryer located within feet of my computer!

Each Saturday I launder Milt's underwear (t-shirts and shorts) and socks. Once in a while, I launder a shirt or trousers. Although he doesn't give me much to clean, he is rather fussy about how his clothes are cleaned (this probably from his many years of military-learned precision). I, on the other hand, have a rather cavalier attitude about laundry--if it gets clean, that's all that counts.

A frequent point of contention is the cleaning of his socks. Last week, I inadvertently separated a pair of brown socks--washing one with a load of colored clothes and the other with a load of whites. I added bleach to the whites and the two socks emerged no longer looking like the twins they were when they started life. Milt was livid. After intense discussion regarding how to solve the problem of the non-matching socks, he suggested that this week, I put the darker sock in with the whites and bleach it to match its now lighter brother. Okay. I agreed.

Yesterday, after all his socks (two pair) made it through the laundry, Milt laid them out on our bed and had me take this photograph. He noted for me (and I am noting for you) that NONE of the four socks match. Not only was I unable to bleach the dark brown sock down to a pale tan, I managed to get another sock into the bleach and thus ruin another pair. All four of these socks started out life identical (so actually, they are quadruplets not twins), so they should all be the same color, but as you can see from the photograph, they are all totally different shades of brown!

How could I have done such a thing? Milt wanted to know. Surely, when I bleached the second sock it should have come out identical to the sock I bleached last week.

Milt: How much bleach did you use?

Me: I don't know.

Milt: You don't know?

Me: No. I just poured some in that bleach hole.

Milt: What is "some"?

Me: A reasonable amount.

Milt: Such as?

Me: Maybe a cup. A half a cup. Something like that.

Milt: You didn't measure the bleach?

Me: Measure the bleach?

Milt: Just like you measure the detergent.

Me: I don't measure the detergent.

Milt: What?

Me: I just add an amount that seems right--detergent, bleach, salt, pepper, butter, oil, whatever. I sense these things.

Milt: Obviously not very well.

The bottom line is the socks are "ruined" in Milt's mind. Personally, if I wore long pants all the time and no one ever saw my socks, I don't see what difference it would make if my socks were a slightly different color. Some people are such fashion snobs.

Do you measure bleach? Any ingredients? Am I a bad housewife?

Starting a Business? Saving Money?

I'm a very frugal person. My business partner Diane and I are working hard to start our independent publishing company Cozy Cat Press and along the way we are forced to spend money. Some of these expenditures are absolutely necessary (for example, printing costs). However, other expenses are variable, and I'm struggling--as I'm sure all new business owners must struggle--to determine just which costs are musts, which are shoulds, and which are don'ts.

For example, during the last few days I have been embroiled in trying to legally establish Cozy Cat Press as an official business in the state of Illinois. Wow! What a chore! Yes, of course, I did my research. I realize there are many different types of business structures. My hubby Milt and I contacted our tax man Harry back in Louisiana and he guided us through the various tax ramifications of different business structures. From our discussion with him and from my own research, I decided to form a limited liability corporation (LLC) because it would provide excellent tax benefits and protect me legally as an individual.

I then headed to LegalZoom where (from my research) I believed I would find the most efficient, cost-effective, and speediest incorporation help around. Hubby and I carefully filled out the online incorporation forms together, reading all the small print, and checking every step as we went. We believed LegalZoom to be the cheapest way to form an LLC (around $150). However, when we got to the end of the long questionnaire and the final bill popped on the screen, it was over $800! We were both flabbergasted. Nowhere in the process was there even a hint that there would be any extra costs as large as these. Some of the fees were for support from LegalZoom, but the largest portion of the $800 total was the filing fee in Illinois ($500). When we checked with Harry our tax man back in Louisiana, he also was amazed, because the Louisiana filing fee for an LLC is $25. Now, why is it so much more expensive to form a corporation in Illinois than in Louisiana?

After being slammed with this rather unpleasant bit of news, I went back and rethought our entire business structure plan again. Diane and I discussed it and decided that it might be better (and, it turns out, much cheaper in Illinois) to form a simple sole proprietorship. LegalZoom is happy to help me do this too, for around $300, but I quickly discovered that the Small Business Administration will give me similar aid for free--I just have to do more of the leg work.

So, that's where I stand now. I'm sure the position I find myself in is not that much different from that of many retired ladies (and men) who wish to start their own businesses in their homes. We live on fixed incomes and just want to be productive and active. We're willing to work hard and do our research. We're not asking for a handout or for special treatment, but we do resent it when governments or other businesses take advantage of us.

Have any of you tried to start your own home-based business? Did you run into any similar experiences in trying to legally establish your business?

(photos from www.bookstrapme.com and www.legalzoom.com)

My Cool Mama

If you read this blog with even a little regularity, you've probably encountered at least one of several posts I've written about my 89-year-old mother Dorothy.  I think she's really a neat, feisty, little lady.  That's why I entered her in Secondary Roads' Cool Mama contest.  Please check out her entry (it's #5) and all the other wonderful Cool Mamas and their stories and then cast your ballot for the coolest of them all.  I'd really appreciate it! 

Too Old For a Ponytail?

How old is too old to wear a ponytail?  Is the "do" with the tresses all pulled back and tied together with a rubber band or a scrunchie totally inappropriate for a retired lady like me?  My hair is getting really long and I just haven't had time to get to the beauty shop to get it cut, so today I toddled off to the gym with my hair piled on top of my head as you see in the photo.  My gym buddy Marsha greeted me with, "Hey, it's Pebbles!" 

Now, I know some people (such as my daughter) believe no one past the age of ten should be caught dead with their hair in a pony tail.  Others are less severe.  Clinton Kelly and Stacy London of my favorite style show, TLC's What Not To Wear, typically chide their contestants for wearing ponytails anywhere other than the gym.  But, I've seen some celebrities (like Sandra Bullock here) wear ponytails to fancy events and look very sophisticated.

My sister Chris looks really good in a ponytail, although she hardly ever wears one.  I guess that's because she already looks so young; if she wore a ponytail all the time, people might mistake her for one of the students at the pre-school where she works (or at least one of the students' older siblings). 

I'm not sure if ponytail acceptability is related more to the wearer's age or to the occasion.  What do you think?

photos from www.i-love-cartoons.com and www.thestylespy.com and www.primped.com.au)

Love Avocado

Is the avocado a fruit or a vegetable?  I should know because, as I recently posted, I only like vegetables--and I love avocados.  Of course, I love tomatoes too and, as Stephanie of Ask Me Anything pointed out, tomoatoes are actually fruit.  Oh, well.  I guess I'm a hypocrite--a declared vegetable afficianado who moonlights at the fruit bar.  Anyway, the avocado is delicious--be it fruit or vegetable.  I would be happy to sing its praises on this blog--or in person--or on a CD--or even in a video.

Of course, I'm not at all good at making videos.  But Griff Hammond, a friend of my nephew Nick, is--and, guess what?  A video commercial he made extolling the virtues of avocados entitled Love Avocado is a finalist at Avodisiac, an avocado promotion site.  It's quite clever--as you can see below.  If Griff wins, he gets $2,000, which he claims he will spend on his forth-coming wedding.  (Now, how many grooms do you know out there soliciting funds for their wedding?).

If you like Griff's video, I advocate (or avocadoate) that you jog over to Avodisiac  and vote for Love Avocado in the "Most Original" category (you will have to go through a sign-up process but it isn't too lengthy).  Avodisiac is doling (maybe I should save that verb for a contest about pineapples) awards of  $100  to selected voters--and you might be one.  So, don't delay!  The contest ends tomorrow.

(photo from www.rawfoodnation.org)

Planning My Dream Vacation

Hubby Milt has given me permission to begin planning my dream vacation to Alaska.  Milt and I have only taken one vacation together in our 26 years of marriage (a three-day cruise to Mexico several years) although we have driven to visit family on holidays.  It may be months--maybe years--before we actually take this vacation, but I'm starting to plan it now.

Here is my dream.  We travel by train from Chicago (near where we live) to Seattle or Vancouver and then take a cruise up the coast of Alaska.  We return by train to Chicago.  In my perfect dream, one leg of our train trip goes over the Canadian Rockies (preferably on the world-renown Rocky Mountaineer), however, I cannot find a direct route from Seattle or Vancouver that begins or ends in Chicago.  We would have to take a train from Chicago to New York, then to Toronto, then to Vancouver.  That seems rather out of our way--also far more expensive than we'd like.  So, it looks like we will take the Amtrak going and coming--Chicago to Seattle.  

If you haven't guessed, I love traveling by train.  I've taken numerous long trips by rail and even introduced my two children to rail travel (they love it!).  Now, it's time my husband learns to love the romance of trains as much as I do.

As for the cruise, I'm still looking at different ones.  I loved our three-day cruise to Mexico, but would really prefer winter rather than tropical scenery.   There are many different cruise lines that offer fascinating packages, all of which sound appealing.  Of course, I've got plenty of time to decide.  We're not going tomorrow.

Have you ever taken an Alaskan cruise?  Have you ever taken a train across country--either in the United States or Canada?  Any advice?

(photos from www.themoderatevoice.com and www.greatrail.com and www.tsitravel.ca.com)

I Hate Fruit

I hate fruits.  I love vegetables.  There.  I said it.  I'm strange.  My doctor says it doesn't matter from a medical perspective because vegetables are just as good as fruits and as long as I eat plenty of vegetables, I don't really need any fruits at all.  Just the same, some people (such as my husband) think I'm unusual in my aversion to the sweet natural snack.

To me, most fruits are just bland, benign blobs.  Apples, pears, peaches--are all alike as far as I'm concerned.  Some are worse, such as the pineapple.  Good grief, what a disgusting fruit.  Not only does it look like a porcupine with a big green hat, but it's sweeter than a gallon of saccharine.  Yuck! 

And the banana.  It might be good for smashing up and using to paste photographs in an album, but why would anyone want to eat one of those long, squishy monstrosities?  My husband eats a banana every morning with a glass of chocolate milk (probably so he can stomach the banana). 

I can tolerate some fruits in certain situations.  For example, a few raisins in muffins and breads are fine--but never alone.  After all, a raisin is really a dead grape--and grapes are mushy eyeball-shaped objects that wine-making peasants pound with their feet.  Ick!

No, I'll stick with vegetables.  I never really met a vegetable I didn't like (well, maybe cucumbers and radishes get a bit overbearing from time to time).  My favorites are all the standards--tomatoes, carrots, potatoes, green beans, peas, broccoli, corn, cabbage.  Fresh, boiled, baked, fried--it doesn't matter.  I love them all (especially fresh asparagus broiled with just a bit of olive oil and oregano--yum!).  Over the years, I've tried to introduce my family to the merits of unusual vegetables (can you say Brussel sprouts, Alex?  lima beans, Cecilia?) but to no avail.  I remain the only one in the family who seems to prefer veggies to fruit.

I guess that makes me a "vegetablist" or a "vegetabile" or would that be "vegetablephile"?   What about you?  Do you love vegetables as much as I do?

(photos by www.actualglobe.com and www.carolyncarreno.wordpress.com and www.dullmensclub.com and www.marthastewart.com)

My Dangerous Front Porch

Why Mom Doesn't Want a Pacemaker

She's a feisty little 89-year old, with a mind of her own.  As she sat beside me in the examining room this morning, hunkered over her walker, glaring at the cardiologist who had just explained why she needed a pacemaker, I braced myself for the onslaught of my mother's fury.

"I don't want one," she announced firmly.  Luckily, she didn't add, "Sonny Boy."  She tends to view all doctors as young whippersnapper upstarts.

"Why not, Dorothy?" asked the calm physician.  He had obviously heard all the reasons patients give for avoiding pacemakers and was primed to counter any argument.  He wasn't prepared for this one.

"My boobs are already too big," replied Mom.   "I don't need some giant metal device pushing them out even further."

"But, Dorothy," he replied, hardly skipping a beat, "a pacemaker is very small."  He brought out a a tiny  metallic disk and showed it to her.

"Hmm," she said, looking at the sample pacemaker.  "Which boob does it go under?"

"Actually," he said, coming to her side and placing the little device on her left shoulder, "it would be about here."

"Not under my boobs?"  she questioned, skeptically.  

"Nope," he said.  "On your shoulder."

"Okay," she replied, suddenly convinced,  "Let's do it."

You can see why I love my mother so much.  She really knows what's important.

My Foray Into Grocery Shopping

Hubby is down with the flu (maybe the Swine type, I'm not certain, but he looks and sounds miserable). He typically makes grocery runs on Wednesdays and Saturdays, but I volunteered to substitute today so he could remain in bed with his box of tissues and the television remote.

I can't remember the last time I shopped for groceries or spent any time in one of those giant monstrosities that they call grocery stores today. The one I went to was the Meijer on 59th in Aurora, Illinois. It's huge--actually three stores in one. One store is devoted to the pharmacy, one to household goods, and the third to groceries. If you just want groceries, you'd better park near the third store or you'll be carting your groceries a long, long way to your car.

Armed with my handy-dandy list, I scout out the various sections of the store. Opting for a counter-clockwise approach, I head off towards the left-hand side where I can see (and smell) the bakery. Oh my! The bagels in this bakery look ever so much better than the ones Hubby typically buys me--asiago cheese! Yum! I suppose when he shops, he considers the cost of the bagels before purchasing them. But we substitute shoppers have enough on our minds with just navigating and locating our prey, that cost seems of secondary concern. Into the cart go two asiago bagels.

Up and down the aisles I go, in hot pursuit. One by one, I check off items from my list. My goodness, this store is big, the rows are long, and soon I am exhausted! After the bakery, there really isn't much worth capturing in this store, so I quickly gather up my loot and head for the check-out lane. Yes, the check-out lane. Now, where is it? Should be where I came in, but where is that? Somehow, I'm all turned around. Calm down, little substitute shopper, you can't really get lost at Meijer's, just look up and follow the star--I mean the arrows!

Ah! There's the check-out counter. No, wait. No clerk is there. OMG, it's one of those new self-check outs. I've heard about those. But for a person like me who has trouble just sliding her credit card through one of those @#$% machines, I choose to forego this adventure and I trek a few (17) counters down until I find a real human clerk who greets me warmly (I wish) and assists me politely (ha!) in entering my credit card into the standard non-self-help credit card machine with which I'm also not at all familiar (you'd think by now I'd learn which side of the credit card to swipe). Can you believe it? I don't even have to sign my name. Grocery shopping has become so impersonal. The clerk and I don't even have time to chat. I love to chat with clerks while they tally my items. This clerk sacks up my few things in bags that are arranged on some sort of circular conveyor device that looks like a carnival ride and sends me on my way with nary a word.

I'm in my car and back home in no time, my grocery adventure over--probably for a long, long time. I ask Hubby if I got the right items.

"They'll do," he grumbles.

I don't tell him about the asiago cheese bagels.

What do you think of the modern grocery store?

(photos from http://thegirlfromtheghetto.wordpress.com and www.dollhousefarms.com and www.curbly.com and www.fotosearch.com)

Recognizing My December Visitors

Thanks to all my visitors during the month of December. The following ten Entrecard members dropped by the most often. Hurray!

1. Moms Check NYO

2. The Modern Mom

3. Jean sQuared

4. Secondary Roads

5. All Stace All the Time

6. Life's Sweets and Spices

7. A Simple Life

8. Yummy-as-can-be

9. Wirez and Circuitz

10. Guitarbench.com

Thanks, everyone!