Just Call Me Klutz

A week ago, Monday morning, I drove myself down the road and across the river to find the nearest Amtrak station. Well, not really a station, but a platform where the train stops. My plan was to board the train and go to Portland, where I would have lunch and then board another train to head south to my old home grounds and visit friends for a few days. That was my plan.

However, my klutzy self got in my way. I boarded the train by falling into it – blame my brain on not agreeing with my eyes, my backpack making me top heavy, and a very tall step. It went like this:

The train attendant was standing outside to the left of the door – the normal folding step they put out was not out. Because the attendant was to the left I moved to the right and reached for the grab bar – the one my eyes didn’t see but my brain insisted was there. Top heavy, stubborn brain, high step, and I plunged forward, landing on my left knee and outer ankle bone. It hurt, but I told the attendant I was fine because I thought I was, and took my seat. Fortunately, I had requested a lower level seat for that early, shorter portion of the trip.

Yeah – “I’m okay” – except by the time we got to Portland, I realized I could not put any weight on that ankle – whoops. So – we filled out the Amtrak paperwork, they called an ambulance, and I became Queen of the Day – center of attention as I was wheeled through the station on a gurney, heading to that vehicle with the blinking red lights – you know, the one that’s hard to see so no one is whispering to the nearest person about its presence. Off to the hospital we went.

The hospital part was fine – everyone was very nice, very attentive – they had people to come check me in, then another people to come do a little more checking in, then a security guard to search my belongings – that says something about where this country is, doesn’t it? They finally took me to x-ray, and it was determined that I had fractured my fibula. The fibula, it turns out, is not a weight-bearing bone, so the solution was a walking boot and a walker, and I was free to leave. Free to leave – but I’m sure in the not-too-distant future I will be notified that I did not leave for free. I had made a hotel reservation for the night, thank you iPhone and Expedia – and called Lyft for a ride there. The driver was very nice, took good care of me, and carried my bags into the hotel. The hotel staff was very nice, very helpful, and took my bags up to my room – because when using a walker, carrying bags is not much of an option. Who knew? And using the bag as a backpack was also not a very good option, it seemed. I thought I’d take the train home the next day because continuing my trip seemed a very foolish notion, but Kat said no, I’ll pick you up. Good thing, because how did I think I was going to manage my bags? I mean, the backpack thing – not doing that one again.

A modern product of Covid came to my aid – I discovered what a wonderful thing Door Dash is. And how nice a lot people really are. My Door Dash driver brought my dinner to my room, and even opened the bottle of beer I had ordered – because I was absolutely certain that my day warranted a beer. At the very least.

Kat picked me up the next morning, brought me home, has tended me very nicely. I have learned that I can walk, slowly, with the walking boot on (hmmm, maybe that’s why they call it that), but don’t even try without it. I have learned the walker is for stability and balance, and I can do without it as long as there are things near to use for support if needed. It works now for things like getting to the bathroom, getting coffee, things like that. Not to be taken lightly, however. I am managing. Not necessarily happily, but I am managing. I will go see the local orthopedist on Tuesday, and how we proceed will be seen more clearly then. I hope.

This is interfering greatly with my patio cleanup project, and our weather has been perfect for getting outside and doing things. Of course. The birds are building new nests in the nesting boxes. The sun is shining.

But inside, there is some nice stuff happening too. Lila, my lemon tree, very pretty and the lemon flower is sweet – I cannot say lemon tree without the song popping into my head – has what I really do believe might be lemons because they seem to be very slowly getting larger:

I’ve found seven of those little guys. So exciting! I’m going to be a mom again!

And my little “Christmas” cactus has a tag that says it’s a “holiday” cactus. One half of her bloomed a couple of weeks ago, and now the other half is getting ready to take its turn.

That’s not a very good picture. Blame it on the ankle – that’s a handy excuse for everything, don’t you think?

Wouldn’t It Be Nice

Warning: this post might contain a rant. Or two.

If: February could provide just a few more days of sunshine? Because by February I always have developed a major case of Cabin Fever, and the only cure for that is sunshine.

If: Our Vlad cat wouldn’t decide to lord his masculinity over our female cats? He’s the youngest, and sometimes that testosterone gets him in trouble. He’s been fixed, but sometimes it seems he doesn’t realize that and he thinks he’s the boss.

If: Our government could actually function as it was designed to function? You know, like thinking about the good of the country and its people – ranking both over the “good” of their particular political party. And their personal power.

If: While that government is functioning as it was meant to, they could actually come up with, agree on, and pass a realistic budget for the whole year, instead of coming up with monthly, temporary, no one is happy with, budgets?

If: After dinner, the dishes would magically take care of themselves? Yes, there is the dishwasher, but it requires that a human load it, start it, and then empty it and put the dishes away. I don’t know why, but cleaning up dishes feels like a major chore. And then, once it’s been done, I always feel so much pleasure because it’s an instant improvement – albeit a temporary one. Just like most housework.

If: once my laundry is done, I could wiggle my nose and everything would be put away, neatly and in an organized fashion? Especially things like socks. At least I only have to deal with socks during the cold months. Are you getting the hint that household chores are not my favorite?

If: Viable, honorable, ethical people could be nominated to run for president? Like Martin Sheen’s Josiah Barton in the TV show West Wing. Yeah, I’m a dreamer.

If: I could figure out why our Roomba thinks its bin needs to be emptied? It’s empty, and I can’t find a clog anywhere along the lines to the bin where it deposits its debris. I might have to talk to one of its customer support people – hopefully that could be done online. Too many years of working a job that required a lot of time on the phone has made me have an intense dislike for phone calls.

Off topic, but to add a note of cheer, I bought myself some Primula plants for in the house. If spring won’t appear outside my window, I’ll create some inside:

Wishing you a day filled with enough.

Sunday Poser #173 – Aging?

This week Sadje is asking the following questions:

Do you like the age you are now?

I think I haven’t given thought to “liking” my age. I am happy to have made it to my age, which is now 82. Thank you. The number of years I am is less important than the number of years I feel I am – and in that area, my body and my mind do not always agree.

 How do you feel about your age?

Some clouds but mostly bright

I don’t feel bad about my age, but I would feel better about it if it didn’t involve old parts letting me know they’re not young anymore. I’ve had to work to recognize that I can’t do things I used to do – my sense of balance isn’t as good as it was, my hips and knees get grumpy now and then, my back is not as resilient as it once was. But all of that is better than the alternative, right?

Do you feel you’re at a better place now than when you were younger?

In many ways, yes I do think I’m at a better place now than when I was younger. I have grown past the more emotional years, I have more patience (although that is still not at the level of having “a lot of patience”), I am more likely to let things go than I used to be, I feel more free to be me – and the me I’d like to be is that woman in the purple dress and red hat from Jenny Joseph’s poem Warning:

“When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people’s gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes. . .”

Because when we reach those “elder” years, we can be eccentric and speak our minds and those around us will simply shake their heads and put on a face of patience, because it is necessary to exercise tolerance of our elders.

I also think I’m in a good place now, living with my daughter and her husband, having space of my own in the house, because it gives me a greater sense of security and companionship without the need to alter my beliefs or feelings. Free to be me – comes more easily with age I think.

However – the tolerance thing only applies to a degree when the topic of current politics and government comes up – that’s when I lose it. And that’s why I now act like an ostrich and pay as little attention to the news as I can.

Share Your World 2/5/24

Thanks to Riddle from the Middle I have found the new source of the Share Your World questions – it is now Pensitivity 101 – at least it’s a new home to me. It’s been a long time since I’ve participated in that meme, and now I know where it is, I can play along again.

1.  What is the first thing you think of when you hear the word “cuddly”? Cats, small dogs, a Koala – although I’m not so sure about the Koala. I think it has really big claws and it is a wild animal. I wanted to say kittens, but kittens are really only cuddly when they’re tired. Winnie the Pooh would be cuddly, I’m certain.

Maybe a porpoise.

Definitely not a Sloth. Do you see those nails?! (very top of photo, left side, her right arm).

2.  Would you like to own an exotic pet?  If so, what? In theory, I think a monkey could be fun. But in reality, I’ve heard that they often have some habits that would be quite disruptive, not to mention unpleasant. But to answer the question, no I would not want an exotic pet, because, as Laura from RFTM said, they are meant to be in the wild. These are as wild as I would want to get.

3.  If you were suddenly gifted £1000/$1000, what would you do with it? That’s a hard question. Probably be selfish with it, and add it to my travel savings account, for a future trip somewhere wonderful. By an ocean. Where I can walk on a beach.

4.  Do you wear slippers at home? Only in the winter, when the floors are cold. In the summer, it’s barefoot all the way.

All Things Cat

I think I might have introduced some of our cats awhile back, but when I was looking through photos this morning, these caught my eye, and it struck me that you might like\]==== (one of them just walked across the laptop keyboard) to meet our kids in a more comprehensive way. Which means with more photos and maybe more words about them.

We have his and her cats. She (my daughter) came back from teaching in Asia with four cats, three of which are still with us. Then she married her husband (K), who came with 2 cats – one of which is still with us. In between times, two of the Asian cats lived with me for awhile, and one of those 2 is still more or less “my” cat. Today I’ll share more about four of the cats. One of them, Queso (because he is the colors of cheddar cheese, both orange and white) is quite antisocial. The only person he’ll allow near him is my son-in-law, so he doesn’t show up in a lot of pictures. Here is Queso:

First, we’ll go with Athena, the K’s contribution to our family. She is the Princess, and she is quite quick to let you know that. She is also the eldest in the family.

She likes to lay next to me in my big chair – not on the lap, but next to it most of the time, but occasionally she’ll get on my lap too.

And then we have the Vlad, technically Vladimir the Impaler (he has a healthy set of claws), who joined Kat’s family three years ago. He was a kitten gifted her by one of her students. In this photo, he is with Athena (she has the sable hair mixed in her black).

Vlad is the one who is usually getting into trouble, but is always excused because he’s “just a baby”. He’s also a love when he chooses to be.

But he can also be a bit of a nuisance – like when he decides to help me warp my loom. He’s a big boy, with a lot of weight to carry so when he wants to jump up on something, it often requires a bit of “pumping up” to get the necessary lifting power.

Then we have Goguma – Korean for sweet potato, I believe. He is our gentle boy with only half a tail – the result of a rough kittenhood on the South Korean streets.

He is the mediator in the cat household. When he hears a cat conversation that sounds unfriendly, he will immediately run to the source of the noise to settle things down. He’s a bit skittish, but will come for petting when we’re safely seated and looking not quite so large.

I think he has my favorite cat personality, because he is so gentle.

Goguma (or GoGo) is also one of the two cats that our little Thai girl, Nong Saow (Little Sister in Thai) will tolerate – the other being the elusive Queso.

Our little Nong likes people, but is less tolerant of other cats. She is also the only one of our cats that goes outside, because she is, after all, Her Royal Highness, and she is very adept at making anyone around her quite miserable if the door is not opened when she issues that order.

She lived with me for a couple of years before I moved in with Kat and K, because when Vlad joined the family she was quite displeased and did not hesitate to show that displeasure. She prefers her lap covered with a soft fleece blanket, and when given the choice between me and Kat, will choose Kat. But she does sleep in the crook of my legs at night. It was during one of those times she spent on my lap that I took advantage of the opportunity to photograph her in detail.

Then we have a regular visitor that I’ve named Charlie. He’ll come around and meow but when I open the door, he runs off. Nong has let him know that he really isn’t very welcome here. I named him Charlie because he has this little white mustache that makes me think of Charlie Chaplain – look closely and you will see it.

That’s our family.

Trips Down Memory Lane

I’ve been doing a lot of venturing down memory lane this past couple of weeks. It started with looking at the photos I took when I visited friends in Poland many years ago – the photos in this post will be some of those – taken in Old Town Warsaw.

The entrance into old town, where it merges with the new town, is the Barbicon, which was integrated into the Warsaw City Wall in 1548. The construction of this wall took 200 years.

Stare Miastro

Stare Miastro

Stare Miastro

This part of Warsaw was originally constructed during the 13th and 14th century. It was mostly destroyed during WWII, but reconstructed so faithfully to the original that it is said you cannot tell the newer from the original. Old Town was The Market Square (Rynek Starego Miasta) and now hosts burgher houses with small shops and upscale Polish eateries.

Stare Miastro

In the middle of this journey down the Polish memory lane, I got a message from someone I hadn’t heard from in many years, requesting some copies of photos he thought I might have. At one time we were very close, but life happens and change happens, and we grew apart, so it was quite a surprise to get his message.

Stare Miastro

That request started a trip down a whole new memory lane. A period of years with a lot of joy, and a fair amount of problems – a growing period. I have a wooden chest I built during my “woodworking” years (perhaps I’ll share that another time) full of photo albums from earlier in life, along with a box of old photos. We shared a bit of our current lives, my friend and I. A little conversation about the drifting apart – perhaps we can be friends again. I found some of the photos he wanted, and visited a lot of other memories from many of the past years.

Warsaw

Warsaw

Some detail from one of the buildings:

Stare Miastro

Funny, isn’t it, how life goes sometimes? We move from one day to the next, too busy during a large part of our lives to spend with memories. And then we find we’ve traveled right into old age, and there are so many memories – do we want to travel down those lanes? I think yes, sometimes. I’m very happy where I am, and really would not change where I am in any substantial way, but thinking back can bring a smile or two and can remind us how we got from where we started to where we are.

What do you think?

Karma’s Before and After

Karma has offered us a photo hunt challenge. I first met her several years ago when she offered different photo challenges, one of which called for a belted cow – and I was able to find one! This is a mini-challenge, calling for before and after photos. I haven’t been getting out of the house to take photos a lot lately – I seem to slow down a bit more each year – but I did find two that seemed to fit the bill.

The patio just off my living quarters in the house my daughter and her husband own, this past late spring:

And again after our winter snows a couple of weeks ago:

This one was taken from my door, so the catio is in the picture too. I really didn’t feel like getting booted up to walk out further into the patio.

When spring comes again, I want to keep adding plants, so we have a patio of many colors and gentle scents. This is about the extent of my gardening these days, but I do love it.

Now to decide what scene to use for Karma’s four seasons challenge that will be coming up later.

Warsaw 1992

My first exposure to the country and the culture was entering the old Warsaw airport on arrival – to see guards standing in glass-enclosed cages with rifles. On a very gray day. Foreboding. They were building a new airport at the time, so I have to assume arrival would be a more pleasant experience now.

Today I’m going to share some Warsaw street scenes, beginning with a photo of the neighborhood P & R lived in. It was nice, quiet, and comfortable. As an interesting note, in Poland the “W” is pronounced as a “V”, so Warsaw spoken sounds like Varsav. The “L” is pronounced like a “W”.

Warsaw

One of my first days there, while my hosts were working, I caught a bus into the main part of Warsaw and wandered around, attempting to learn something about the city. I went on a guided tour for part of the day, looking at castles, but that will wait for another post.

I loved the old architecture in Poland – there was a lot of incongruity there though, with the old architecture and the droppings of the Russian occupation – all very ugly gray concrete block buildings. In the picture below, you see on the right the American Embassy – probably the ugliest of all the buildings on that street.

Warsaw

Warsaw

The next few pictures are buildings that caught my attention as I wandered, but I have no idea if they’re significant. They do give a little feel for different parts of the city.

Warsaw

Warsaw

Warsaw

In many of the newer parts of Warsaw, the sidewalks are very wide – which is good, because it seems that’s where people are to park. On the far left, you see one of Russia’s droppings – the gray concrete block structure. Quite different from the other buildings near it. Next time, we’ll visit the Old Town.

Warsaw

Stare Miasto is in the old part of the city, built in the 13th and 14th centuries. It was destroyed during WWII, but rebuilt conforming so precisely to the originals that original structures and the replicas cannot be told apart.

Stare Miastro

Stare Miastro

Our next visit will explore Old Town a little more.

Back in 1992

In April of 1992, I took a vacation to visit some very close friends, P & R, that were living in Warsaw, Poland at the time, and I have decided to revisit that time. Partly because, you know, my life now is very quiet and quiet doesn’t produce writing fodder. I’m not sure whether I’ve shared this trip before or not, but if I have, I’m sure it was a very very long time ago.

This trip may include several blogs, and is not going to be done in chronological order. This first episode shows a trip we took to a small village in Poland called Kazimierz Dolny. It’s in eastern Poland on the east bank of the Vistula River. Its prime time was in the 16th and first half of the 17th centuries, when it was a bustling little town because of the grain trade. It is now one of Poland’s historical towns, and attracts artists and tourists.

As we drove into the little town, we saw that it was built in a square – the town square – this is one side of town:

Kazmierz Dolny

And the other part of the square. This is the “bottom” part of the square.

Kazmierz Dolny

We stayed in a bed and breakfast type home, with family style meals provided. The food was delicious. This photo was taken of P and I in the courtyard behind the building. Our rooms were off the balcony above our heads. Oh my, I was so young back then, although I think I thought I was older. If only when we were younger, we had a clue.

Kazmierz Dolny

The view from our balcony

Kazmierz Dolny

These benches were placed in front of the buildings on the side of the town. You can see, it the very upper right of the photo, the roof of the church building.

Kazmierz Dolny

With P & R

Kazmierz Dolny

From the bottom side of town, a clear view to the church building.

Kazmierz Dolny

One of the days we were in Kacimierz Dolny, there was a funeral procession. It appeared the whole town attended that funeral and we had a perfect view from the benches in the town square.

Kazmierz Dolny

Kazmierz Dolny

A view of the entry to the church.

Kazmierz Dolny

High up on the hill above the town was the remains of a very old castle

Kazmierz Dolny

Kazmierz Dolny

Getting closer

Kazmierz Dolny

Two of chose to climb the stairs

Kazmierz Dolny

From that vantage point was a great view of the town

Kazmierz Dolny

And from back on the ground, the Vistula River

Kazmierz Dolny

and another view of town

Kazmierz Dolny

Inside the remaining walls of the castle

Kazmierz Dolny

As you can probably tell, these photos were all taken back in the day of cameras with film, and they are now 31 years old. I scanned them all to make them digital a few years ago, but I did a poor job of arranging them, so future posts are going to be a lot of guessing, trying to remember and properly identifying where they were really taken. I may need to do some research. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy.

Where Does the Responsibility Rest?

The other day, Robin from Breezes at Dawn wrote some words that stirred me. She often does that, but these particular words woke up the dissatisfaction and concern that I’ve been feeling since the Iowa Primaries. I have avoided ranting, because doing so adds to the emotional distress, but yet when the words are inside, unable to quiet themselves, sometimes not ranting is worse. Check out Robin’s words, won’t you? Think about them.

Two prompts in one

Then consider where the responsibility to counteract so much of the bad, the uncomfortable, the insidious erasing of our democracy, lies.

I recognize that our political parties have not been offering many good choices in recent years. It makes me wonder where the things that matter to me have gone – the need for honor, integrity, logic, thinking, gaining wisdom by listening to those who have it to offer. It seems to me it’s time for a shake-up of our political system – and whose responsibility is it to cause that shakeup? Not an insurrectionist type of shake-up, but one instilled with those things I listed above as important to me.

And that “political system” includes all of us – the voters as well as those who have control. We need to start asking ourselves some hard questions before we fill out that ballot. We need to look beyond the trees in front of us, into the broader picture. We need to demand that those we elect have the wisdom and intelligence to govern – to work for what’s good for this country, as a whole, and to remember that our democratic republic was designed to be for the people as a whole, not just for those who possess the most wealth and therefore, influence.

We need to think. We have a lot to lose.