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This site is a member of WebRing. To browse visit here. Sunday, November 26, 2006 One of those days My mother asks for a Thanksgiving Day report. Hmm, I had hoped to just forget the whole day. No, not because of family feuding, not at all. Dinner was terrific. No political wrangling (though we're all in agreement there anyway). Nothing burned, and only the cranberry sauce forgotten. The table was beautiful, the wine was good (if I do say so myself, that having been my only real contribution), and I'm sure dessert was great too. I fell asleep while the othes were playing poker, and woke up just in time to rescue Clarence from falling over asleep himself and get us out of there.No, the problems were mostly self-inflicted. We were about 60 miles east of home when I discovered I had forgotten the bag that normally hangs on the back of Clarence's wheelchair. It holds his medications, a change of clothes, his blood sugar meter, and when we aren't carrying the little refrigerator with us, it also holds his insulin in an insulated case. All of that was still sitting on the living room floor. I was on the phone with Shelley when I discovered we didn't have it, and inititally told her we would have to just cancel the trip. It was late enough in the day as it was, and an additional two hours would have put us there just about in time to have dessert and head up to the peninsula to the hotel. I couldn't justify a 500 mile round trip and a $100 hotel stay for a meal, no matter how congenial the company.But it was clear that Clarence really wanted to make the trip. So I called his doctor's office, got the answering service, had the doctor on call paged, and told her what had happened. She listened to his list of medications, said that Lasix and Clonidine were the only ones he absolutely could not skip for 24 hours--besides the insulin, of course--and called in the necessary prescriptions to a Walgreen's in Virginia Beach near Greg and Carol's house. I thought we were set, and headed on east.Somewhere along the road, it occurred to me that perhaps I ought to look for a hotel room nearer their house. I had made a reservation at the hotel where I usually stay when I'm in Tidewater on business, surprised that any room was available at all at such short notice. When I was lucky enough to find another hotel, I called the first one back to cancel the original reservation. "What was your name again?" the clerk asked. "Um, we don't have a reservation for you for tonight. Did you make it in another name, maybe?" No, I hadn't made it in another name, and what's more, by then they were full. I was not amused, but less indignant than if I hadn't already found somewhere else.We arrived in Virginia Beach, I dropped Clarence off at Greg's house, and went straight to the drug store to pick up his meds and insulin. The pharmacy was closed, and I thought, "Oh no! We've taken so long to get here that his prescriptions are sitting there behind a locked door and nobody is going to agree to get them for me." It was worse than that. "Our pharmacy wasn't open today at all," the clerk told me. "Nobody could have called a prescription in."So it was back to round one with the answering service and the doctor, who claimed she was transferred to a voice mail and didn't know the pharmacy was closed. We found another Walgreen's, she called the prescriptions in there, and I sat in their waiting area for a blasted hour waiting for them to be filled. By the time I got back to Greg's house, dinner was on the table.So we basically made the 500 mile round trip, with the $100 hotel stay, for little more than a meal anyway. But the company was good, and I enjoyed making the rounds of the yarn shops in town on Friday morning.Here is one earflap of the hat I'm making for my youngest grandson for Christmas. It's an Inca style cap with Fair Isle animals around the crown and a stub of I-cord for decoration at the top, made of Mission Falls superwash merino, lovely soft stuff. It's going to be a bit big for him, but I couldn't find anything I liked in a more suitable size. So he can peek out from under the edge of the hat this year, and next year it should fit him perfectly. I could have fiddled with the gauge, but I really don't have time to fool around too much. Besides all the knitting, I have end of the year deadlines on two stories, and in spite of the time of year, there is certainly going to be some work to do as well.Tomorrow, I'm heading for West Virginia to do inspections and also to visit the Blenko Glass Works near Huntington. I've wanted to go there for several years, but couldn't justify either the expense or the time off from working. But since I have work to do in that direction anyway, I'm going to take an extra day and spend it at Blenko, one of the most famous of American art glass manufacturers. posted by Liz @ 8:55 PM | The template is set to display 10 posts. To see all the posts for this month, click on the month name in the Archive section RSS Feed PERSONAL Send email toliz at life-as-a-spectator-sport.com Home I'm a mother, grandmother, a computer professional, Democrat, Christian. I welcome politely worded comments and email, my spam filter throws the rest away, so don't bother to flame me WHY 'LIFE AS A SPECTATOR SPORT' "If you're lucky not to live in the gutters of a slum, but still can't afford to take vacations in the Alps, you're part of that enormous middle class who lives life through the medium of the television, further separated from "real" life by air conditioner, by automobile, by dishwasher, microwave and ice-in-the-door refrigerator, by automatic washer and dryer, and all the other appliances and conveniences that make it possible for America to live life at second hand. I'm not sure why Americans decided that televised drama was better than the real thing, that cardboard microwave food containers were an adequate substitute for real dishes, and their contents for real food, or that cooking, dishwashing and face-to-face conversation wasn't worth the effort and time it required. Someone fed this nation a plastic crate of out-of-season tomatoes and told us it was life and we took them at their word, and we're so much the poorer for it that it's hard to know where to start to list the shortcomings." I wrote this a couple of years ago, but I have to admit it's much less amusing than I thought it would be to see the artifical construct falling apart. THE NON-ELECTRIC HOME Cleaning, 1 Cleaning, 2 Cleaning, 3 KNITTING BLOGS Extravayarnza Knitting Heretic Mind of Winter Pie Knits Persistent Illusion See Eunny Knit The Keyboard Biologist Taleweaver's Ramblings TECHnitting Wendy Knits FINISHED PROJECTS -------FINISHED IN 2006------- Peruvian Cap Tutti-Frutti Socks Shelley's Socks Carol's Socks -------FINISHED IN 2007------- Chain Link Socks Baby Surprise Jacket Valerie & Friend Baby Bonnet Rainbow Baby Socks Girls Pixie Hood Mitred Square Heart Red & White Socks Coffee Cup Pot Holder Nubbins Dishcloth Garterlac Dishcloth Suede Booties Kate's Socks Norwegian Sweet Baby Cap Half Thumbless Mittens Red Mittens for Akkol -------FINISHED IN 2008------- SELF-RELIANCE AND THE FUTURE -- Blogs and websites -- Causubon's Book Club Orlov Food Storage Made Easy From the Wilderness In the Wake Listening to Katrina Survival Topics The Modern Homestead The Oil Drum Notes from a Hillside Farm -- Mailing Lists -- 12vdc Power Living on the Land Rainwater Refrigeration Alternatives Old Ways of Living POLITICAL BLOGS and SITES The political sites have moved BOOKS I'M READING How to Grow More Vegetables, etc. Small Scale Grain Raising ARCHIVES February 2009 January 2009 December 2008 November 2008 October 2008 August 2008 July 2008 May 2008 April 2008 March 2008 February 2008 January 2008 December 2007 November 2007 October 2007 September 2007 August 2007 July 2007 June 2007 May 2007 April 2007 March 2007 February 2007 January 2007 December 2006 November 2006 October 2006 September 2006 August 2006 July 2006 June 2006 May 2006 April 2006 March 2006 February 2006 January 2006 December 2005 November 2005 October 2005 September 2005 August 2005 July 2005 June 2005 May 2005 April 2005 March 2005 February 2005 January 2005 December 2004 November 2004 October 2004 September 2004 August 2004 July 2004 June 2004 May 2004 April 2004 March 2004 February 2004 January 2004 December 2003 November 2003 October 2003 September 2003 August 2003 July 2003 June 2003 May 2003 April 2003 March 2003 February 2003 January 2003 December 2002 November 2002 October 2002 September 2002 August 2002 July 2002 June 2002 May 2002 April 2002 March 2002 February 2002 Feedjit Live Blog Stats
My mother asks for a Thanksgiving Day report. Hmm, I had hoped to just forget the whole day. No, not because of family feuding, not at all. Dinner was terrific. No political wrangling (though we're all in agreement there anyway). Nothing burned, and only the cranberry sauce forgotten. The table was beautiful, the wine was good (if I do say so myself, that having been my only real contribution), and I'm sure dessert was great too. I fell asleep while the othes were playing poker, and woke up just in time to rescue Clarence from falling over asleep himself and get us out of there.No, the problems were mostly self-inflicted. We were about 60 miles east of home when I discovered I had forgotten the bag that normally hangs on the back of Clarence's wheelchair. It holds his medications, a change of clothes, his blood sugar meter, and when we aren't carrying the little refrigerator with us, it also holds his insulin in an insulated case. All of that was still sitting on the living room floor. I was on the phone with Shelley when I discovered we didn't have it, and inititally told her we would have to just cancel the trip. It was late enough in the day as it was, and an additional two hours would have put us there just about in time to have dessert and head up to the peninsula to the hotel. I couldn't justify a 500 mile round trip and a $100 hotel stay for a meal, no matter how congenial the company.But it was clear that Clarence really wanted to make the trip. So I called his doctor's office, got the answering service, had the doctor on call paged, and told her what had happened. She listened to his list of medications, said that Lasix and Clonidine were the only ones he absolutely could not skip for 24 hours--besides the insulin, of course--and called in the necessary prescriptions to a Walgreen's in Virginia Beach near Greg and Carol's house. I thought we were set, and headed on east.Somewhere along the road, it occurred to me that perhaps I ought to look for a hotel room nearer their house. I had made a reservation at the hotel where I usually stay when I'm in Tidewater on business, surprised that any room was available at all at such short notice. When I was lucky enough to find another hotel, I called the first one back to cancel the original reservation. "What was your name again?" the clerk asked. "Um, we don't have a reservation for you for tonight. Did you make it in another name, maybe?" No, I hadn't made it in another name, and what's more, by then they were full. I was not amused, but less indignant than if I hadn't already found somewhere else.We arrived in Virginia Beach, I dropped Clarence off at Greg's house, and went straight to the drug store to pick up his meds and insulin. The pharmacy was closed, and I thought, "Oh no! We've taken so long to get here that his prescriptions are sitting there behind a locked door and nobody is going to agree to get them for me." It was worse than that. "Our pharmacy wasn't open today at all," the clerk told me. "Nobody could have called a prescription in."So it was back to round one with the answering service and the doctor, who claimed she was transferred to a voice mail and didn't know the pharmacy was closed. We found another Walgreen's, she called the prescriptions in there, and I sat in their waiting area for a blasted hour waiting for them to be filled. By the time I got back to Greg's house, dinner was on the table.So we basically made the 500 mile round trip, with the $100 hotel stay, for little more than a meal anyway. But the company was good, and I enjoyed making the rounds of the yarn shops in town on Friday morning.Here is one earflap of the hat I'm making for my youngest grandson for Christmas. It's an Inca style cap with Fair Isle animals around the crown and a stub of I-cord for decoration at the top, made of Mission Falls superwash merino, lovely soft stuff. It's going to be a bit big for him, but I couldn't find anything I liked in a more suitable size. So he can peek out from under the edge of the hat this year, and next year it should fit him perfectly. I could have fiddled with the gauge, but I really don't have time to fool around too much. Besides all the knitting, I have end of the year deadlines on two stories, and in spite of the time of year, there is certainly going to be some work to do as well.Tomorrow, I'm heading for West Virginia to do inspections and also to visit the Blenko Glass Works near Huntington. I've wanted to go there for several years, but couldn't justify either the expense or the time off from working. But since I have work to do in that direction anyway, I'm going to take an extra day and spend it at Blenko, one of the most famous of American art glass manufacturers.
The template is set to display 10 posts. To see all the posts for this month, click on the month name in the Archive section
RSS Feed
PERSONAL
WHY 'LIFE AS A SPECTATOR SPORT'
"If you're lucky not to live in the gutters of a slum, but still can't afford to take vacations in the Alps, you're part of that enormous middle class who lives life through the medium of the television, further separated from "real" life by air conditioner, by automobile, by dishwasher, microwave and ice-in-the-door refrigerator, by automatic washer and dryer, and all the other appliances and conveniences that make it possible for America to live life at second hand. I'm not sure why Americans decided that televised drama was better than the real thing, that cardboard microwave food containers were an adequate substitute for real dishes, and their contents for real food, or that cooking, dishwashing and face-to-face conversation wasn't worth the effort and time it required. Someone fed this nation a plastic crate of out-of-season tomatoes and told us it was life and we took them at their word, and we're so much the poorer for it that it's hard to know where to start to list the shortcomings." I wrote this a couple of years ago, but I have to admit it's much less amusing than I thought it would be to see the artifical construct falling apart.
THE NON-ELECTRIC HOME
Cleaning, 1 Cleaning, 2 Cleaning, 3
KNITTING BLOGS
Extravayarnza Knitting Heretic Mind of Winter Pie Knits Persistent Illusion See Eunny Knit The Keyboard Biologist Taleweaver's Ramblings TECHnitting Wendy Knits
FINISHED PROJECTS
SELF-RELIANCE AND THE FUTURE
POLITICAL BLOGS and SITES
BOOKS I'M READING
How to Grow More Vegetables, etc. Small Scale Grain Raising
ARCHIVES
February 2009 January 2009 December 2008 November 2008 October 2008 August 2008 July 2008 May 2008 April 2008 March 2008 February 2008 January 2008 December 2007 November 2007 October 2007 September 2007 August 2007 July 2007 June 2007 May 2007 April 2007 March 2007 February 2007 January 2007 December 2006 November 2006 October 2006 September 2006 August 2006 July 2006 June 2006 May 2006 April 2006 March 2006 February 2006 January 2006 December 2005 November 2005 October 2005 September 2005 August 2005 July 2005 June 2005 May 2005 April 2005 March 2005 February 2005 January 2005 December 2004 November 2004 October 2004 September 2004 August 2004 July 2004 June 2004 May 2004 April 2004 March 2004 February 2004 January 2004 December 2003 November 2003 October 2003 September 2003 August 2003 July 2003 June 2003 May 2003 April 2003 March 2003 February 2003 January 2003 December 2002 November 2002 October 2002 September 2002 August 2002 July 2002 June 2002 May 2002 April 2002 March 2002 February 2002
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