The only grocery shopping I've done for over 20 years is for special celebrations and family parties, so it was an eye-opener to take it on after Bob's surgery. My first time out, I was mentally and physically spent about half-way through the experience. I couldn't figure out the layout of Bob's favorite store, the Larpenteur Rainbow Foods, and I was frustrated looking for sold-out coupon items. Moreover, I found myself picking up many products on a whim and forgetting about my list. I went for the no hassle, coupon free shopping pleasure of Kowalski's and Lund's, rather than navigate Rainbow, where I have to bag my own stuff and feel compelled to use the coupons from the Sunday paper.
This morning I was there before ten, armed with my list and a modest number of coupons. I went off list a couple of times (prepared tuna salad, liverwurst, birthday candles) but was smart enough to shop the aisles at either end of the store, and go down the middle for frozen foods at the end of shopping trip.
I included a little side trip to the adjacent liquor store for wine and beer. I am quite familiar with liquor stores and soon grabbed what I needed for Bob's birthday and Grand Old Day this weekend. Alas, no wines to sample at 10:00 a.m.
Friday, May 31, 2013
Thursday, May 30, 2013
The Hummingbird Jigsaw Puzzle Seduction
In the lunchroom shared by staff of the departments of Commerce and Health, a jigsaw is always in progress on one of the tables. The fact that I was never able to add even one piece to any puzzle over a period of several years should have served as some kind of warning indicator leading me away from any temptation to buy a puzzle.
Last week, I was shopping in Barnes & Noble and was drawn to a colorful box decorated with a beautiful photo of a hummingbird. I picked up the box and my fear of the 500-piece puzzle, for ages 14 and up, was outweighed by the vision of a lovely framed 18" X 18" hummingbird brightening Minnesota's long winter.
"Do the outside frame first," I thought, and struggled mightily for several days until Bob suggested that I measure how big 18" actually is. A good tip. I managed to get the corners done and gradually finished the frame, about 15% of the puzzle. Along the way, I realized that a few pieces didn't quite fit, and "close" wasn't good enough, messing up the possibility of real matches for other parts of the puzzle.
Over the weekend, I got the bird finished and filled in a lot of sections, such that I'm now about 75% done, with shades of green left. I've learned that I should have looked for a methodology before undertaking what has turned into a monumental task. Turns out it would have been better to construct sections first, by color, something that has occurred to me as I've struggled to find one piece out of a couple of hundred to fit in only one spot, and start over again with the next piece.
Not sure I'll be doing this again anytime soon!
Last week, I was shopping in Barnes & Noble and was drawn to a colorful box decorated with a beautiful photo of a hummingbird. I picked up the box and my fear of the 500-piece puzzle, for ages 14 and up, was outweighed by the vision of a lovely framed 18" X 18" hummingbird brightening Minnesota's long winter.
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| Support for Audubon seemed like a good idea, at least in the beginning |
Over the weekend, I got the bird finished and filled in a lot of sections, such that I'm now about 75% done, with shades of green left. I've learned that I should have looked for a methodology before undertaking what has turned into a monumental task. Turns out it would have been better to construct sections first, by color, something that has occurred to me as I've struggled to find one piece out of a couple of hundred to fit in only one spot, and start over again with the next piece.
Not sure I'll be doing this again anytime soon!
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Mowing the Lawn
Bob won't be able to mow the lawn for awhile yet, and I was eager to see what I could do. My experience: one brutal session with an old push mower 50 years ago and one or two passes around the back yard a few decades back, when Bob was on a motorcycle trip at the height of the growing season. I needed our neighbor's help to start the mower, and I remember the experience as noisy, smelly and only marginally successful.
Armed with ear plugs and Bob's extensive mowing knowledgebase, I headed out for the first time last Thursday, and was inordinately proud when I succeeded in doing most of the lawn, under careful supervision, of course. This morning, probably our only dry day this week, I did all but the boulevard, a manageable flat surface for Bob.
The job is done with two mowers. The first is a self-propelled Honda, very conventional, with a tendency to "get away" from the operator. Its main advantage is its "one-pull" start that even an inexperienced, non-mechanical person like me can start. The second mower is a "FlyMo" rescued from the neighbor's trash, used to mow the bank down to the sidewalk. It's quite a contraption: a mower that "floats" on the surface of the grass, adapted by Bob for the bank with a old water ski rope attached to and wrapped around the mower handle. Holding on to the ski handle, I lower the mower to the bottom of the bank, maintaining just enough control to cut the grass. I couldn't help laughing, knowing full well why cars slow down as they pass by.
Now that I've got the hang of it, I really enjoy mowing the lawn. The task is clear; the results are visible and measurable, immediately gratifying. The smell of fresh grass is a refreshing sensory experience of summer, right up there with a cold beer. The job has a beginning and an end, though the freshly mown look fades quickly.
I'm going to give myself an "A" for this one.
Armed with ear plugs and Bob's extensive mowing knowledgebase, I headed out for the first time last Thursday, and was inordinately proud when I succeeded in doing most of the lawn, under careful supervision, of course. This morning, probably our only dry day this week, I did all but the boulevard, a manageable flat surface for Bob.
The job is done with two mowers. The first is a self-propelled Honda, very conventional, with a tendency to "get away" from the operator. Its main advantage is its "one-pull" start that even an inexperienced, non-mechanical person like me can start. The second mower is a "FlyMo" rescued from the neighbor's trash, used to mow the bank down to the sidewalk. It's quite a contraption: a mower that "floats" on the surface of the grass, adapted by Bob for the bank with a old water ski rope attached to and wrapped around the mower handle. Holding on to the ski handle, I lower the mower to the bottom of the bank, maintaining just enough control to cut the grass. I couldn't help laughing, knowing full well why cars slow down as they pass by.
Now that I've got the hang of it, I really enjoy mowing the lawn. The task is clear; the results are visible and measurable, immediately gratifying. The smell of fresh grass is a refreshing sensory experience of summer, right up there with a cold beer. The job has a beginning and an end, though the freshly mown look fades quickly.
I'm going to give myself an "A" for this one.
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Gardeners Live Long Lives
Many studies (I wonder now how scientific they are) suggest that gardeners live long, healthy lives. I can't believe this is true. I got my feet wet about ten days ago filling the five planters with Bob, and that experience was fine -- easy on the nerves and not very demanding. Yesterday and today were a different story.
I spent several hours over the last two days planting a total of 74 plants (impatiens, alyssum, petunias, marigolds), in the flower bed near the garage and the other small area between the front and back yards. I'd prepared the ground the same day as I did the planters, but after all the rain we've had the ground was very hard and I had to do some of the work again.
I divided each space into quadrants so that I could distribute the plants fairly evenly, going for a nice "random" design. On Bob's instructions, I dug a hole for each little plant, some of which were looking mighty sparse and fragile. Then I filled the watering can and poured water into each hole. Yesterday was impatiens day and by the time I'd shoved every little plant into the 34 holes, I felt as though I could go to bed for the rest of the day.
This morning, I finished up with the rest of the flowers. Despite my sister Marilyn's warning not to plant in the rain (soil is too compacted), I figured today was a better weather day than what we'll be getting the rest of the week, so I pushed forward. I passed on the gardening gloves today and my hands were totally mucked up after only a few minutes.
Midway through the project, Heather from P & J Medical came to pick up Bob's CPM machine. I left the job to talk to her for awhile, and realized after a minute or so that I must look like a crazy person. By this time, I was quite wet and my hair was plastered to my head. I had a big brown blob of mud on my glasses and my legs were streaked with dirt. After a little chit chat about yards and mowing, Heather left and I went back to my station. 20 plants to go. I wasn't concerned that passers-by and neighbors would see me in this frazzled, filthy state. I had turned into the kind of woman I've laughed at all these years.
By the time I finished, the watering can was so dirty that I had to hose it off. Because I can't kneel down on my fake knees, all the planting was done from a crouched position, and I had begun to stiffen up. My left elbow ached and my hands were cramped and cold. I felt about 95 years old, not shooting for 100.
The rain began to fall harder. I went into the house through the side door, and limped down the stairs to the basement for my shower. I sprayed off the mud and hoped that no one would come to the door as I walked through the house clad only a towel.
I spent several hours over the last two days planting a total of 74 plants (impatiens, alyssum, petunias, marigolds), in the flower bed near the garage and the other small area between the front and back yards. I'd prepared the ground the same day as I did the planters, but after all the rain we've had the ground was very hard and I had to do some of the work again.
I divided each space into quadrants so that I could distribute the plants fairly evenly, going for a nice "random" design. On Bob's instructions, I dug a hole for each little plant, some of which were looking mighty sparse and fragile. Then I filled the watering can and poured water into each hole. Yesterday was impatiens day and by the time I'd shoved every little plant into the 34 holes, I felt as though I could go to bed for the rest of the day.
This morning, I finished up with the rest of the flowers. Despite my sister Marilyn's warning not to plant in the rain (soil is too compacted), I figured today was a better weather day than what we'll be getting the rest of the week, so I pushed forward. I passed on the gardening gloves today and my hands were totally mucked up after only a few minutes.
Midway through the project, Heather from P & J Medical came to pick up Bob's CPM machine. I left the job to talk to her for awhile, and realized after a minute or so that I must look like a crazy person. By this time, I was quite wet and my hair was plastered to my head. I had a big brown blob of mud on my glasses and my legs were streaked with dirt. After a little chit chat about yards and mowing, Heather left and I went back to my station. 20 plants to go. I wasn't concerned that passers-by and neighbors would see me in this frazzled, filthy state. I had turned into the kind of woman I've laughed at all these years.
By the time I finished, the watering can was so dirty that I had to hose it off. Because I can't kneel down on my fake knees, all the planting was done from a crouched position, and I had begun to stiffen up. My left elbow ached and my hands were cramped and cold. I felt about 95 years old, not shooting for 100.
The rain began to fall harder. I went into the house through the side door, and limped down the stairs to the basement for my shower. I sprayed off the mud and hoped that no one would come to the door as I walked through the house clad only a towel.
Saturday, May 11, 2013
Lots of Exercise
I spent the first "real" weekend of spring looking out the window at summer temperatures from inside Bob's hospital room. Cyclists were out on their bikes and I wondered how long it would be before Bob is well enough to ride his bike. I checked my first total knee replacement (TKR) blog and saw that my first ride was in early April about 12 weeks after surgery, but I'm fairly sure I could have ridden my bike 5-6 weeks after surgery last fall. Of course, by then it was winter and there was no bike riding.
Bob came home from the hospital on April 29, and I was immediately drafted into action as fetcher and heavy lifter. I get up between 5 and 6, feed the cat and make coffee before bringing Bob his coffee at 7. By the end of an average day, I've made many trips up and down the stairs, especially if I'm doing laundry that day and am hitting the basement 3 or 4 times as well. My own quads are getting very strong and I don't feel the strain on my knees anymore. The CPM machine is quite heavy and unwieldy but the upper body exercises I've been doing for 6 months or so have paid off and it's fairly easy to manage. The activities of daily living are keeping me more active than I ever was sitting at a desk all day.
Bob came home from the hospital on April 29, and I was immediately drafted into action as fetcher and heavy lifter. I get up between 5 and 6, feed the cat and make coffee before bringing Bob his coffee at 7. By the end of an average day, I've made many trips up and down the stairs, especially if I'm doing laundry that day and am hitting the basement 3 or 4 times as well. My own quads are getting very strong and I don't feel the strain on my knees anymore. The CPM machine is quite heavy and unwieldy but the upper body exercises I've been doing for 6 months or so have paid off and it's fairly easy to manage. The activities of daily living are keeping me more active than I ever was sitting at a desk all day.
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