Did it Go? Almost but No!

Back in mid-March, I posted a blog wondering whether or not the snow would be gone by April. My very solid and unequivocal guess was, "I don't know." As You can plainly see, I am one for taking a definite stand.

As it turned out, almost all of it did go except for accumulations like the one in our front yard and in very shady spots here and there.

This is our house (right) and looking across the street (left). You may recall that yellow extension  on the hydrant almost being covered when the the snow was at its maximum height (depth?). And the snow pile in front of ours was about 6' high at its most formidable elevation.

We drove to the park around the corner. My goodness, it was yet another miserable day under a dull sky and with fierce winds. There is no snow to be seen in the picture although there was a little bit off-picture. (You can see how dull the day was in both ensuing pictures.)

Then, we toddled over to the bigger park, where Sue refused to budge from the car after facing the winds at the first park, and I must say that I was right quick about squeezing off this photo. If you squint you may see a bit of snow off in the distance to the left where the path curves, but really, the snow is largely gone.

Spring has been a slow and cool so far, but even this brutal winter will not hold back the warmth forever.

Hawthorn Reflections

While Sue was feeding the birds (yesterdays post), I was surprised to see very good reflections of the old Hawthorn Mill across the river. The river was running high after much winter melting, so I expected it to be turbulent. But it was calm.

That's it for today. Consider it a bit of a break from my usual, prosaic rambling. 

Little Gestures

This is Sue sharing a remembrance moment, in spirit, with her sister and for Elisabeth.

Twenty-nine years ago, yesterday, Heather's little girl, Elisabeth, died suddenly She was five years old. It was also her grandmother's (Sue's and Heather's mom's) birthday. Pearl had also died suddenly in almost the same spot on the past Christmas Day.

Heather takes the day to be still and to remember. Yesterday, she decided that she was going to feed the birds. In Heather's park, birds will sometimes land and feed directly from the hand. I hope that was the case for Heather yesterday. That doesn't happen here, but Sue went out to leave piles of seed for our feathered friends.

Little gestures can mean a lot.

A picture of Elisabeth from Heather's journal.

My Old Brain has trouble with the New Coffee Maker

We have a new coffee machine. It’s this one → and it works well. It makes single servings of up to 14oz, hot and quickly. I usually just make an 8oz cup, twice each morning.

It is replacing two machines which pretty much broke down simultaneously. Our tassimo machine, which was really Shauna’s old machine, gave up the ghost one recent morning. Seeing as it was second hand already, that it was the time for it to cross that famous coffee ground bridge to the great plantation in the sky  

In addition to the tassimo machine, we also had another machine, our main machine, which would make big pots. However, it was also on its last legs and no longer rendering the coffee very hot. Its flow had also all but reduced to a dribble. This symptomology (of the slow drip) leads me to believe that it was a male machine because that’s kind of consistent with what happens to elderly males — in my experience, that is.

The spiffy new thing works well, and we feel better about not adding plastic pods to the landfill. We don’t even need paper filters with this shiny newfangled thing.

But I have a problem with it, and I don’t know why. In point of fact, I have forgotten to insert the mugs four times, thereby causing the coffee to pour all over the place. The latest occasion was on that recent very early morning (as described in yesterdays post) when I had awoken in some discomfort at 2 o’clock. I actually got the first mug right, but two hours later I forgot the mug for my second pouring — and I do mean pouring.

There is something about the sequence of setting up this machine that causes my brain to feel that I have completed all of the steps when I haven’t, but I can’t figure out why that is the case. When I am in a compos mentis state of mind (it does happen), I look at the machine and wonder why I have this difficulty, and quite frankly, I don’t know.

I admit that from time to time, I would make an error with one of the two other machines. This didn’t occur frequently, and it was usually that I forgot to actually add the coffee to the big machine. But 4x in two weeks with this gadget seems quite ridiculous.

I have always always been an absent-minded, daydreaming sort of person, even as a child. My mind is prone to wandering, and I forget things. This is not new, and I don’t think it presages mental decline although I am pretty darn sure that I am not getting smarter.

Whatever it is about preparing this machine that makes me feel like I have completed all of the steps when I haven’t, I am not sure. But I would like to figure it out and get over it before I pour too many more dollars worth of coffee all over the counter and floor. 

Another Cost of Aging

So it is 3:30AM, Sunday night (or Monday morning), and here I am writing this post for Tuesday. If that isn’t early enough in your estimation, I hasten to add that I have been up for more than an hour already. I certainly hadn't planned it this way, but here we are.

As you know, I do get up rather early at times, but 2:15 or so just about takes the cake.

On this occasion, I was awakened by soreness in my nether regions and soon decided that I wasn’t going to be able to sleep through it. It was not (and is still not) a killer pain, but it is enough to keep me awake. This phenomenon also occurs sometimes during the day, but one just lives through it then and carries on. It’s just hard to sleep through discomfort down there when it happens at night.

So, I went from bed to chair, turned on the electric blanket because I was feeling a bit cold in the middle of the night. (Well, why else would one turn it on? Duh.) But as odd as it seems, I also applied cold. Yes, I placed a freezer pack onto my sore nether regions, first on my front apparatus and then on the rear.

The cold treatment seemed to help a bit initially, but I am now somewhat sore again, so I am probably up for keeps after a grand total of three hours of sleep.

This is another cost of aging, just not a monetary one as in the previous post.  

Since I also decided that I may as well make coffee, I have effectively reduced further the probability of getting back to sleep. So here I am doing this and that on the iPad. Maybe I will watch a photo tutorial, and I do have a book to read although I don’t know if I am exactly perky enough to concentrate, especially since I am still contending with soreness.

Perhaps I shall force myself to endure another round of the freezer pack. 

This particular pain is random and doesn't occur all that often, thank goodness, but it does happen more often than I’d like. It is yet another cost of aging and one that doesn’t exactly bring joy to my heart  

Costs of Aging

Last week, we had our winter tires swapped out for the all seasons tires. I look forward to the change because the ride seems better — certainly less noisy. 

But the changeover reinforced the cost of aging.

For any number of years, we haven’t had to lift the tires into the trunk for we have improvised a makeshift ramp. It makes it much easier than lifting the blessed things. 

Last week, however, while rolling the rubber up the ramp, I had the thought of having the tire shop store the dadblasted things to save me the hassle of loading and unloading twice a year. It’s not that we can’t do it or that it is all that difficult, but I just felt like I don’t want to be bothered anymore.

So I asked about the service, and it isn’t cheap. It’s 60 smackeroos per season, or 10 bucks per month. It’s a lot, but I decided to do it anyway.

I experienced one payoff right away when I got home and didn’t have to contend with getting the tires out of the trunk.

You see, that would have involved a bounce. Rather than roll the tires down the ramp, I would drop them, rather carefully, from the trunk and let them bounce. I would then try to contain and control them on the hop and then roll them into place. It usually worked well enough, but I was glad to not face the struggle this time, for this unloading was almost as bothersome as the loading by rolling them up the ramp. I say almost, but perhaps it was even more of a hassle.

When you add that to other costs of aging, it mounts up. I am thinking specifically of the horrendous expense of hearing aids, which averages out to about $1000/year. My first car cost less than the tiny things that I now stick in my ears. Significantly less as a matter of fact.

But I am still here and hanging on, and I rather appreciate that.

Speaking of aging, when I quickly scan messages on the computer, my deteriorating brain often misreads them — just for a second or two, you understand. Then, I have to pause and reread more slowly. For example: I thought the subject line of this ↓ email read: How to Make the Perfect Bikini Without a Recipe. Fortunately, I am not so far gone that I fail to realize that there must have been something amiss with that reading.

Coffee Selfies and Sue's Shoot

Well well. I have nothing but Sue's pics today, but you will be relieved to know that I do make appearances. What? Relieved is not the right word? Well, anyway . . .

We did have a car lunch and coffee this week. I know, I know, but it is a tradition to show these. I bought a turkey club sandwich and she a bagel with cream cheese, yet look who has what in the photo.

I am not sure if Sue did the following shoot on the same day or a different one. She had another prompt that involved textures, so we headed to anther mural. She presented this ↓ collage to her group.

After seeing the teaser above and maybe wondering if your eyes were deceiving you, I hereby present a clearer view of that funny fellow sitting on the bench altogether too close to a lady reading a book. The nerve.

Who knows where we will end up next and whether we will see that funny guy again?