Monthly Archives: September 2014

Just Me - AmeliaJake, The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse

Stories

There are always true stories.  They are everywhere, maybe in parts in time and place, but for as long as people interact, there will be stories. They may come round and round in different tempo, but they have been told and will be told again. And sometimes they just happen and there is no one there to tell. But they exist.

And just at the universe is soooo big, and the atom so small, so it is with  Machiavellian tales. We read and marvel of the machinations of the Borgia family, political deals, manipulated news coverage. History book stuff, mini-series stuff, exposes of betrayals of country and family. But on the atom level, there is no big to-do. So I guess we have to handle it, to go on, to file our protest and take strength from the fact that we have done just that – stood up for ourselves.

And perhaps that is the most hopeful story of all – that everyday, somewhere, someone is saying I will not be pushed down and trampled without struggling to our feet and  saying, “Ok, we maintain our dignity.”

Just Me - AmeliaJake, Special Memories

Well, where is Lassie when you need her?

I’ve stayed away from this blog for a couple of days because we had some treachery happen and I really don’t want to write about it on this public forum. (The Hell I don’t; I want to let my let my razor tongue extend its essence into my fingers. Might be hard on the keyboard, come to think of it.) Anyway, no one is dying,  And I don’t think it’s so bad I need Lassie to pull us out of a well; however, if Lassie could just come and push a certain person of interest down the well, I might call 911 because it is the – oh, how sometimes this gets on my nerves – the SIGH right thing to do.

Just Me - AmeliaJake, The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse

Stop breathing

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Today when I was encouraged to go to the doctor for the pain in my side, I wound up standing in front of an  X-ray machine. The technician said that she wanted me to stop breathing. I asked if I could eventually start again. Fortunately, I had made a couple of  other semi-humorous remarks before and so she did not stare at me as if I were an idiot.

I have fractured ribs. You rest; you may possible use a “pillow splint” and you should take deep breaths so you do not get pneumonia. When I had pneumonia four decades ago, I coughed so hard, I cracked a rib.  I made no jokes about this ironic twist.

I was seen by a nurse practitioner because it was a last minute appointment and because it was pretty straight-forward: I fell and hit my side and it hurts now.  She was very nice and competent and after she had asked me all about the fall and any preceding wooziness or other unsteadiness, she talked to me about how important it is for people to make certain their surroundings are sort of fall-safe.  The people of whom she spoke were I knew, in medical speak, little old ladies. I now have a sheets of instructions  – single spaced- about the details of how not to fall. One suggestion is to sit in an armchair while getting dressed.

The ribs hurt; the Little Old Lady speech has not truly registered yet. I was not ready for this. I sat there, staring at her with a nonchalant expression on my face thinking: Oh my God,  my denim skirt is turning into a flowered dress and my hair is becoming very white tight permed curls on my head and I may or may not see my Skechers turn into bunny slippers if I look down.

When she called in the afternoon to confirm that the ribs were crunched, she first carefully introduced herself and reminded me I had seen her earlier for side pain. I could not resist replying, “I remember.”

But back to the stop breathing comment. I was tempted to remark about the PBS show with Judi Dench – “As Times Goes By” in which Lionel said when he saw her, he stopped breathing. Then he added, I started again, of course, or I would be dead now. I decided to keep my mouth shut. It was probably a wise little old lady decision.

And Pottermom, thank you for the comforting hug.

 

 

Just Me - AmeliaJake, The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse

Tripping over the dog

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I may have bruised or cracked a rib in a silly-looking fall I could not recreate if I tried, and I am not going to attempt it. It is amazing how many little tendons, ligaments and other body parts are connected to an injured rib.

Yes, I am complaining, but I am not asking for sympathy. It is just somehow comforting to remark on it. I have a boo boo. There, see, I feel better already – well, better until I forget and move. Let me try that again:

 

I have a boo boo.

Just Me - AmeliaJake, The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse

WordPress 4 – now there’s some more stress

I wrote a post, I pushed Publish; nothing happened. I pushed the tab again and got the same result. I noticed both times that Publish was showing up at the very bottom of the page; I thought this was to give people plenty of time to consider if they really wanted to do it. Apparently, I was a little jokie on WP’s part. I scowled – not a pretty sight, but especially right off the bat in the morning – and gave it one more try. This time Publish showed up in its usual spot and it worked.

Because I just can’t stop now that I’m revved up, I am going to push this little option showing up that offers one column or two. It may be bad.
NOTHING HAPPENED. Oh, maybe they meant one or two columns while one is composing. Oh, well.

This and That at The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse

Stress – is it noticeable

I wrote a post on phone games a couple of days ago, and I usually do not reread my posts – nor do I proofread them on most occasions. I think I will have to change that policy. Egregious is too mild a word to describe the following paragraph:

For all my good intentions, I suspect I will fall off the wagon . . . and be faces with putting all my pieces make in a certain shape. Ah, these is beginning to sound like “The Devil Rum.”
Auuuuugggggghhhhhhhhh.

I will correct it: I should be made to write it 100 times on the blackboard.

For all my good intentions, I suspect I will fall off the wagon . . . and be faces faced with putting all my pieces make back in a certain shape. Ah, these this is beginning to sound like “The Devil Rum.”

There was at least one other typo in the post, but enough with beating a dead horse. I could vow to be more vigilant and responsible, but that would be so unlike me. However, I had better pay a little more attention before I become AmeliaJoke.

Just Me - AmeliaJake, The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse

Phone games

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I was never one to play games on my phone and I think it had a great deal to do with my reflexes being slow and the size of the screen. Then Summer sat beside me playing 2048 and I found myself thinking that I’d just try that. Well, it was a long trial period – so long I tired of it and went searching for simple games that weren’t timed.

I came across Room Escape games and a series of games about a series of doors that you had to do something clever or, basically, stupid to get each one open. Now I have become almost addicted to this game call Cross Fingers – or something like that. You have to maneuver shapes in a confined area. Of course, the first levels are free and then you have to open new ones with stars you have earned and/or money. I might pay if I were waiting in a hospital or outside a courtroom, someplace where my mind would wander with anxiety from concentrating on what I was reading. As it is, I earn stars.

You have to pay three star to unlock a level and you earn two stars for completing it. We didn’t pay that much attention to that when we were skipping around on levels, actually playing “Baby” at one point.
I have finished “Insane” and “Genius” – not quickly, but with perseverance, or maybe it was stubbornness.

It’s probably time to move on to something else, something involving reading and learning and keeping up to date on current affairs. I’ll just find a couple of compelling games to have if I come across the hospital/courthouse scenario. Of course, there is that word – compelling. I do not remember the multiplication tables being compelling – nor the intense study of archaic grammar.

For all my good intentions, I suspect I will fall off the wagon . . . and be faces with putting all my pieces make in a certain shape. Ah, these is beginning to sound like “The Devil Rum.”

Oh, Satan, get thee behind me – -But Santa you can stay close by. Just thought I’d mention that in case or a typo or computer glitch.

Just Me - AmeliaJake, The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse

Red letter day

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We are getting our 3rd new toilet this afternoon. Which leaves one still not replaced, but it tells me it’s doing fine and I can’t help thinking, well, okay, I’m older too, but I’m still managing. Although, come to think of it, while you can hear running and/or dripping water, can you so easily detect a leak of brain cells. I’m not going to write anymore about this.

Yesterday, I went to the graveside services for a lady who sat at the same table with Kathryn at the Nursing Home. One day she showed me a picture of a grandchild and on the other side of her wallet was her Driver’s License with her birthday in bold numbers. She was five years younger than I. She had diabetes and didn’t want to go on dialysis, but once she did, she said she had to admit she was feeling better. Then one morning she couldn’t be awoken and died four days later.

Maybe thinking about her was why I missed a turn on the little roads that led from the out-of-the way cemetery. Navigating by the compass in the car, I finally realized I had gone WAY too far east and needed to head north. Roads are few and far between, so I bit the bullet and took a dirt/gravel road, sending dust flying behind me. When I finally got home, I noticed the trunk of the car and it appeared there was a big monster-like handprint on it. I don’t even want to know.

Later that evening I went for a walk and, as usual, wound up where I started. It seems that happens a lot with my thoughts as well.

Just Me - AmeliaJake, The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse

When does challenge mutate into frustration

I was faced with a line-up of things to do and had just almost signed off the Internet when the Internet signed off on me last Saturday morning. Only it wasn’t the Internet; it was power to the plug the modem and whatever plugged into. It took us a while to realize this and identify the Switch of Death – one of us at the circuit breaker box and another clear across the garage, house and up the stairs, talking on cell phones. It was Saturday; we didn’t call an electrician; we plugged everything in another plug.

This took awhile. Then a couple of us went to LaGrange and, golly, gee, we found out there was a big leak behind the water heater. The man across the street had mentioned that there were a lot of garter snakes out this year and there is no way I, AmeliaJake, am going to even go down in the basement to investigate. I made it halfway down the stairs and then really leaned to turn the pump off. I thought I heard a rustle; maybe it was my imagination, but I’ll not betting on it.

So, two things to take care of THAT WEREN’T ON MY ORIGINAL LIST!!

I am ready to listen to this mp4 that Pottermom sent me about cricket voices at reduced speed:Crickets Clip.mp4

This may not play, so I will check back and then check with others for help in getting it to do so if it won’t. Well, that was a great sentence.

SEE, THIS IS WHERE IT GETS FRUSTRATING – THAT JUST PLAYED A BIT ABOUT A GAS CAN, DIDN’T IT. SIGH. LET ME LIE AND BLEED AWHILE AND I WILL RISE TO FIGHT THIS BATTLE AGAIN.