The Heat of Summer

I am sitting here this morning with the door open, enjoying an infrequent, cool morning. The temperature outside is a mere 70. I'm sure that it will be going up later, but for now, it is just right. I just wish we had had more mornings like this during the summer. Instead, we have been in an oven since late June.

My last post prayed for the end of winter and the beginning, finally, of spring. It seems that Mother Nature forgot to have spring this year. We went from the rainy misery of April and May straight into the blast furnaces of June, July and August. I'm not sure, but if I had to guess, I'd say that we had a record number of days over 90 this summer. And here we are, at the end of August, still having to run the air conditioner due to the excessive heat.

These horrible heat waves (and there have been a couple of breaks, so it is plural) have severely limited my outdoor activity. Some days, the air conditioner has gone on at 10am and stayed on until after 10pm. A couple of days, I haven't turned it on and simply sweated through temperatures in the high 80s. When the temperature is so high with the amount of humidity that we get here in Illinois, it is extremely hard to draw a full breath outside of an air-conditioned environment. Short trips to the post office and to get groceries (by car) and walks across my parking lot to the garbage dumpster have been about it. And that's a shame because I finally have a doctor who has found the correct medication to help my arthritis and I would have been capable of doing a lot more, if it hadn't been so darn hot!

Anyway, school started here yesterday, and that is usually a harbinger of cooler weather. Unfortunately, it appears that the little break in the weather that we're experiencing this week (mid 80s instead of mid 90s) is only that - a little break. The forecasts have the temperature climbing back up into the high 80s and mid 90s again next week, and staying there for a couple of more weeks, at least.

Ah, well, I'm sure that in a few months, we will all be wishing for some of this hot weather to warm us up. One thing that I've noticed in my lifetime is that every really hot summer is usually followed by a really long, cold, snowy winter (have you noticed the tails on the squirrels lately?). So, I'm going to sit back and continue to enjoy this lovely cool morning while I can. By the way, in the time it took me to write this entry (about ten minutes), the temperature has risen to 74.

Will Spring Ever Really Come?!

Here it is, May 12, and the temperature outside is 55 degrees - still. We had some really nice weather a few weeks ago, but since then, it has been cold and damp and dreary. I've been spending most of my time indoors getting rid of a cold. In one way, it has been driving me nuts being so house-bound. But, in another way, it has been a productive time. I have actually been working hard on my county fair entries during this time.

So far, I have managed to work on four crochet projects, all of which are in different stages of doneness (is that a word). I am almost finished with a shawl that I'm crocheting using a bamboo blend yarn (very soft and eco-friendly). I have a baby afghan that is about half-way done and I've designed a table runner from cotton yarn that should be done soon, too. The big item (actually, the smallest but most technical) is a pair of crochet socks. I've never crocheted socks before, but I was intrigued by the pattern (they have two cables down the front), and I really love the feel of sock yarn. The socks start by making the toe sections. Easy-peasy. Then I started working on the foot of the sock.

I have been working on the first sock for four days now and am finally getting to the heel gusset. The reason for that is that last night (very late last night) I realized that I had been doing the cable pattern incorrectly, which is why the cable didn't look like one. So, at 11 pm I ripped out everything that I had done, back to the first cable switch and re-worked the entire foot back to where I had ended earlier. I then added two more sets of the pattern to take it to the length it needs to be to start the foot gusset before I finally went to bed - at 5 am this morning. It now sits there waiting for me to begin the next section, which I'll probably do some time this afternoon. I've been reading the pattern, trying to make sure that I actually understand what the next step is. I don't want to rip anything out again if I can help it. And to think that when this sock is finished, I have to finish the second one, too.

I have also been working on a counted cross stitch project for the past few weeks, too. I've also finished the top for a new lap quilt. Since I've picked out 27 items that I want to enter into the fair, I really need to keep working on them now. Don't want to be rushing to finish everything the weekend before the fair judging. (LOL - I'm always rushing to finish things at the last minute. It's when I do my best work.) I actually have started on 10 of the 27 items and have chosen the designs for another 10, so far. If I can keep up this pace, I should have all of the entries in the works by June 1. Of course, the real problem is getting them all finished by the end of July. We'll see. I may have to pare down my list of entries.

In the mean time, I will keep working away on the projects I have started, all the while wishing that the weather will finally warm up and I can get out of the house more. Or at least, open the door to let fresh air in without freezing!

Getting Closer to Spring

Since my last post, we have made great progress towards spring. Although the temperatures this week are back on the low side, last week we had several days in the mid-60s and it felt great. The weatherman promises that the temps will go back up again by early next week, and I think that we just might have a pretty Easter this year. Of course, I'm not sure yet where Easter will be. We've got two people who want to host it, so no decision yet. I'm sure we'll figure it all out this week-end. In the meantime, I'll just go ahead and make my Easter projects for the greats.

I love my fellow crafters on-line. They always manage to find me some really great ideas. Take this year's Easter project for the greats. I usually fill a couple of dozen eggs with money and candy for the Easter Egg Hunt, but this year, I've decided to give each of the kids a carrot for Easter. Yes, I said a carrot. Thanks to one of my cyber-sisters, I found the instructions for making Easter carrots a few weeks ago. I won't explain the process here except to say that they are really cute. I'm making a couple of moderations to mine, but here's the link to the original posting for those who want to see what I'm talking about: http://www.allfreecrafts.com/easter/jelly-bean-carrots.shtml It's a really cute craft for Easter.

Speaking of crafts, in my last post, I was lamenting about my lack of crafting ambition. Well, I must have sparked my crafting muse, 'cause since then I've done a bunch of stuff. I did more work on the quilt that I talked about, made 5 new pieces of jewelry (including finishing a beaded cabuchon broach and a white pearl bridal necklace), and started a simple sweater for myself out of sock yarn. I had bought 3 balls of the yarn to try to make myself a pair of socks, but I didn't really have the patience to figure out the sock pattern. Instead, while watching a needlework program on TV, I was inspired to create a simple, block-type of sweater using the yarn. Of course, I had to go back and buy more yarn in order to finish it, but I am happy with how it is turning out and it will be a nice little topper for spring. I hope to have it finished for Easter.

I also went through the premium book for the Kankakee County Fair, which is scheldule for the first weekend in August, and made a list of the items that I'd like to enter. I came up with 27 of them. Based on projects that I currently have working and others that I've wanted to try for a while, I'm pretty confident that I can get most of them finished in time. But only if I keep crafting, so I'd better get back to it. The sweater is my first priority. Maybe I'll be able to post some pics later. Until then, I hope all are well and happy. Later.

So, Enough with Winter, Already!

Here it is, February 4, and we're expecting another 1-2 inches of snow today. The temperature is in the low 20's and it has been overcast for days. I have no motivation to do anything, whatsoever. These mid-winter blahs are just getting me down.

Not that I don't have some creative ideas. I do. It's just that the weather is causing me pain in my hands and it's hard to force myself to work when they hurt so much. I've got pain medicine that helps, but it's so strong that I end up in a fuzzy state for most of the day. (Case in point, I took a pill about 30 minutes ago and it's starting to kick in. I'm trying to finish this entry and my breakfast before the fogginess kicks in.) Fuzzy states are not really conducive to being productive.

And I really have some great things that I want to work on. I took one of my "jelly rolls" of Moda fabric (a wonderful group of colors called "Allspice Tapestry") and have designed a simple, but unique, quilt top. The first step of the process is sewing four strips together before cutting them into blocks. I have the fabrics all sorted and put into groups, but I have only managed to get one group sewn together so far. I'm going to try to get the other nine finished today, then I can iron the seam allowances and cut the blocks and arrange them. The pattern is a simple "Warm Wishes" type with a slight design change and, if I wasn't feeling so blah, I probably could have had it finished in a day. But here I am, a week later, and no closer to being finished than I was the day I started it. UGH!

I've also laid out the designs for a couple of wedding jewelry sets. I know that I have all of the materials that I need to make them, but every time I think about starting them, I rub my hands and think of what all that fine workmanship will do to the pain level in them. So, there sit the idea layouts, just waiting for me to get to the motivation to actually make them.

I've also started thinking about what I want to enter into this year's county fair. It's only five months away, so I need to get started on those projects now in order to have them done in time. And while I'm pretty sure about what I want to make, I just haven't been able to make myself get started. Knowing me, though, I won't really get into production on those items until May, which means that I'll have to work like a demon to get everthing ready before the deadline. Ah, well.

Like I said, I've just got those mid-winter blues and I sure wish the sun would show up soon. Even opening the living room blinds doesn't make it any brighter in the house. It just let's me see just how miserable it is outside. SIGH! I really hate winter.

New Great-Niece

I'm a great-aunt again! The baby girl was born at 12:26am on December 30, 2009. She weighed in at 8 pounds 8 ounces and was 20 inches long. And is she ever cute! (I'm posting her picture so you can see that I'm telling the truth.) She is my sister, Diana's eighth grandchild, and was welcomed by dad Darin, mom Jill, and big sister Zoe'.

We were beginning to think that she was never going to put in an appearance. At Christmas, Jill was nicely huge, in that beautiful pregnant way. She had hoped that the baby would have come before then, but no such luck. Jill went to see her doctor on her due date, December 28th. He told her that he wouldn't induce until she was five days past her due date. Luckily for Jill, she only had to wait another day and a half before her labor started in earnest.

And the result was this beautiful little girl who's name is Jade Katherine Bowers. Welcome to the family, Jade.

Oh, How I Hate The Cold

Well, winter is really, really here. The temperature outside, according to WeatherBug is -2 right now. -2!. I had gotten up early, planning on going to church, but I decided to find out what the temperature was just to be on the safe side. I'm glad I did. No going out yet for me. You see, I have two titanium knees, and they don't like the cold at all.

One of the admonitions that my doctors had give me after my knee replacement surgeries many years ago was to avoid frigid temperatures whenever possible. I didn't really pay too much attention to that during the first two years after my knees were replaced because the winters had been mild ones. Only a day or two during each of those winters had dipped into the single digits, temperature wise. And then it happened. My third winter with my new knees, I had driven over to the train station in the morning to head downtown to work. The temperature was in the low twenties. During the day, however, a cold(er) front moved in, and by the time I got home that evening, the temperature was only about four degrees above zero.

I hurried from the station to where my car was parked. Since I was able to park in the "Handicap" section, my car was about 150 feet from the door of the station. I got to the car, opened the door, and went to sit down in the car. A strange thing happened. My left knee would not bend. I had to manually force the knee into a bent position to get it into the car. After letting the car warm up for a few minutes, I drove the eight blocks home and pulled into the garage. I opened the car door and had to use the leg of my slacks to pull my left leg out of the car. I was panicked.

Once I got inside, I immediately called my doctor's service. He called me back a few minutes later and asked what was wrong. I told him about my left leg. He said, "Are you nuts? What were you doing outside in these kind of temperatures?" He then reminded me that I had been warned by both him and my orthopaedic surgeon to avoid extremely cold weather. He told me that once the knee joint warmed up I would be fine, but that I should never, never, never go out in the cold if the temperature was below ten degrees. It seems that titanium doesn't really like the cold very much.

I have, of course, gone out when the temperature was below 10, but I always make sure that I have extra covering over my knees. I wear tights under my slacks and I alse wear my long winter coat instead of the more stylish short jacket. After all, I was still working until last year, and I couldn't afford to take off every time the temperature dropped too low. I have to admit, though, that it is nice not to have to get so dressed up to go out in such cold weather. As the years have gone by, my joints have all come to dislike the cold as much as my knes, which brings me to this morning.

I had planned on going to church this morning, but after seeing what the temperature is, I have decided to stay put in my apartment until the mercury starts to rise. It's supposed to get up to 15 by this afternoon and I'll try to go out then. I haven't been out of my apartment since last Monday due to the cold, and I need to pick up some groceries. In the meantime, I will continue to dress in layers and layers to keep warm. I hope you all are keeping warm, too.

The Difference Between Big City and Rural Life

Something very nice just happened. There was a knock at my door, and when I opened it, the two little girls from upstairs were standing there. They asked my permission to clean the snow off my car. I said sure, "How much do you want?" They just looked at me with strange expressions on their faces. I said, don't you want any money to do it, and they said no, we just want to clean off the snow. I said, okay, just be careful. And right now, they are working diligently cleaning off the almost four inches of snow piled on my car.

And therein is the difference between life in a small rural town compared to life in a big city. When I owned my house in a rather large suburb of Chicago, I would have youngsters come knock on my door and offer to shovel my sidewalk and driveway, too, but for a price. I usually took them up on their offers as long as they weren't too expensive since snow shoveling is not one of my favorite things to do. Having arthritis in my joints, my body does not really like the cold, so I try to stay as warm as possible during the winter. Having someone else shovel the snow and clear my walks and driveway was an absolute must.

Anyway, my point to this post is that here in the small rural town where I live now, these two young ladies not only aren't charging me for cleaning off my car (they are almost finished as I write this), they even came to my door to ask my permission before they did it. And I think that is a very nice thing for them to do. Hmmm, I just might have to fire up the oven and bake some cookies this afternoon, since they wouldn't take any money. After all, one good turn deserves another!

Merry Christmas to All

I had a wonderful evening with my family yesterday. The new baby was there, but still inside of her mom. She's reluctant to put in an appearance for some reason. All but one of my twelve other "greats" were there, too. Unfortunately, poor Michael had to stay home with his dad Mike 'cause, as his big sister Hannah put it, he had "green snot". I'm not sure exactly what that is, but it sounded pretty bad and his mom didn't want to take the chance that he would infect the rest of the kids.

The rest of us, though, had a very pleasant dinner followed by a modified gift exchange. We used to make a huge production over Christmas Eve dinner, but this year we took a more laid-back approach. There was fried chicken (from J.R.'s), lasagne (from GFS), and a couple of salads, along with desserts (pies by Marie Callender and cheesecake by Eli's). The order of the day was EASY. We also told the nieces and nephews that they didn't have to bring anything. I brought the two pies, my brother and his wife brought the cheesecake. Two of my sisters, Karen and Diana, split the cost of the chicken and the third sister, Janis, bought the lasagne. A couple of the kids did bring things like cookies and candies and a cheese tray, but nothing complicated. As a result, we were all able to sit down to dinner without too much fuss.

After dessert,the gifts were handed out. We had decided that only the aunts and uncles would buy for only the greats instead of the whole family exchange that we used to do. We didn't want any of the nieces and nephews to feel bad because they couldn't afford to buy for everyone. Afterall, the recession has hit us just like it has everyone else. So, the rule was nothing excessive. I sewed a little goodie bag for each kid that I put a toy, a baggie of cookies and candy, and a marshmallow lollipop in. Someone else gave each of them a puzzle, someone else had given them socks, another gave another little toy, and Uncle Mike was the big hit when he gave each of the kids a little case that contained a $15 universal gift card.

We all sat around chatting for a while and telling stories of Christmases past. Everyone went back to the dessert table for seconds (thankfully). Then we started packing up and heading for home. We had spent almost three hours together without anyone having to stress out over a big to-do with a big dinner and tons of presents (trust me, when there are 30 family members exchanging gifts, it is a very big to-do and a whole lot of presents). I think that this was one of the best Christmas Eve get-togethers that we've ever had.

This morning when I first got up, I put a loaf of whole wheat bread into the oven to bake. Once it was done, I headed to Christmas morning mass with Karen, Diana and Ken (Diana's husband). Janis and her family had gone to the 4:30 mass yesterday before the dinner and had gone to Indiana for Christmas with her daughter-in-law's family early this morning, and Mike and Dawn (my only s-i-l) were on their way to dinner with their daughter, who had to work last night. After mass, we went to Karen's house for coffee and Christmas cookies. Karen's husband, Hap, had to work today. He went in for 8am and is scheduled to work until 11pm. Karen was going down to her daughter's for dinner today and Ken and Diana were headed for their daughter's house to see what Santa had brought the kids.

I headed back home, fixed myself a nice ham salad sandwich with my fresh baked bread. Then I sat down in my recliner and watched a couple of Christmas movies on television. I had turned on my Christmas tree lights and just enjoyed the feeling of not having to do anything or go anywhere. And I am very glad that I didn't have to drive anywhere since the rain that was coming down this morning, turned to snow by about 2pm. And, it is very windy out there. Better to stay in my nice, warm apartment. My friends had invited me to come to their house which is about 20 miles away, but I had told them that I was worried about what the weather was going to do. Looks like I was right. I'll just try to get out to see them sometime in the next few days.

In the meantime, I hope everyone had a really good Christmas, too. I also hope that Santa was good to you all, and not just with gifts. I hope that he brought all of you the true gift of this season, too. Merry Christmas, everyone!

My Little Tree

Yesterday, I decided to put up a Christmas tree. I haven’t done that in a few years (too little time when I was working, no motivation since I retired, etc), but I decided that it was time to do it again. I started by placing a wooden tray table in front of the window, next to an outlet. The placement would allow the tree to be seen from outside while letting me enjoy seeing it inside without blocking the view of the television. I covered the table with a snowman themed runner.

I then went to the hall closet where all of my Christmas stuff is stored. I took out a swag and rigged it up so that I could hang it outside my door. Conveniently, there is already a hook there, so all I had to do was hang the swag on it. Then, I chose one of my small trees (yes, trees, plural) and took it out of the box. I chose a 3-foot Norway pine that I got on sale at Hobby Lobby a few years ago. I paid $4.99 for it.

It took about 15 minutes of work to get the branches spread out and looking okay. Oh, and did I mention that this tree was pre-lit. It has 35 mini lights already twined within the branches. So, once the branches were to my liking, I set the tree on the table and plugged it in. The Christmasy feeling started to bubble inside me.

Next, I had to decide on ornaments and decorations. Since this is a fairly small tree, I couldn’t really go overboard. And then I remembered some vintage ornaments that I had bought last year from the White Elephant table at a craft show. There were about 15 of them and they would be just what my tree needed. Total cost of the ornaments: $1.75. I got out the ornament hangers and began to place the balls on the tree.

There were two clear glass ornies that had been be-ribboned and hand painted with snowflakes, three dark blue and gold papier mache ornies and 10 of the old-fashioned glass ornies in pale greens and pinks. They gave the little tree a very Victorian feel. I had some glistening mylar snowflakes left over from a craft project that I scattered around the tree, too. I topped it off with a $.99 frosted pearl garland (it looks like little snowballs) and wrapped the end of a small white feather boa around the base.

The tree looked a little lonely standing on the table by itself, so I added a set of fabric-covered boxes (another White Elephant find for $1.00). There are three boxes, each covered with green and white fabric with a pink fabric top. They each have a candy cane on the front and the lids are embroidered with “sugar,” “spice,” “everything nice”. I stacked them at an angle and the colors really match the ornies on the tree.

Then, following the “less is more” approach, I decided that I pronounced the tree finished. Total cost of tree and decorations: $8.75. I opened my blinds so that the outside world can see my tree and it stayed lit until I went to bed. This morning, I took a picture of my tree, which is attached here. The boxes are on the other side, so not too visible in this photo, but they are there. It is absolutely amazing how having that little tree has put me into a very Christmasy mind-set.

Today, I am going to put together my little gifts for my great nieces and nephews (twelve right now, but number thirteen may be here by Christmas Eve). Tomorrow, I’ll bake my cookies and make some candy (I’m going to try my dad’s fudge recipe). Then, on Christmas Eve, I’ll bake one pie and thaw the other (thank you, Marie Callender) and head for my sister’s house for dinner with the family. And when I come home, my little tree will be here to greet me with its light and help to make the season truly bright.

I'm 63 Today

Hey, today is my birthday!  I almost forgot it was coming this week.  I am now 63.  Not that the number really means anything to me anymore.  With arthritis churning through my body, many days feel like I'm in my 90's.  Today, however, was not one of those.  The weather is a little warmer, so my joints aren't quite so achy, so I'm actually typing up a new post for my blog.  I promised myself a few weeks ago that I am going to post more often and this is me keeping the promise.

Speaking of blogs, one of the ladies over on the HGTV message boards started a thread a couple of weeks ago asking people to post their blog links.  And are there some really talented crafting and quilting folks out there with their own blogs.  I have been adding them to my favorites list as I find them and now I have a list of over 20 blogs that I can (and do) check in on periodically.  They are from all over the place, including one from Russia that I had Google translate into English for me.  It is amazing what you can find out from other folks who are interested in the same things you are.  These blogs have some really wonderful things in them.  Everything from holiday recipes to free templates for tags and labels, to unique projects that you can do.  I love them all.

What I love most, though, is that there are all of these wonderful people out there just trying to connect with other folks and who are willing to offer their help whenever needed.  I know that there are a lot of people who say that you should be really careful when surfing the web and going to unknown websites, and I am careful, but I really love being able to see what others are doing and to read about their lifes.  It puts mine in perspective.

So, birthdays can come and go, as far as I'm concerned.  I'll just keep plugging along doing my thing until the good Lord calls me home.  Until then, I plan on having as much fun every day as I can.  Happy Birthday to Me!

Craft Show Season is Almost Over

Well, another year of craft shows is coming to an end. I have my last show this Friday and Saturday. It's a "Santa Shop" at an elementary school and geared towards kids. It runs for three hours on Friday night (6-9pm) and three hours on Saturday morning (9am-12pm). We set up starting at 4 on Friday. I've decided that I'm only going to take my low dollar things to this show since it's aimed at kids. I will, hopefully, maximize my sales that way. And believe me, in this economy, I have to do as much as possible to do that.

The past two years have not been good ones for craft show vendors. The recession hit us pretty hard. With so many people being out of work, there just aren't the buyers out there for our crafts. Last year, of the six shows that I did, I only made back my table fee at two of them. This year I've only done only four shows, but I've managed to make back table at each, so far. At my big show this past weekend, I actually made some money! Hopefully, I'll make some this weekend, too. At least it's a short show. And I only have to drive 20 miles!

My show last weekend was at my former parish in Chicago. It was my 19th year as a vendor at this particular Holiday Bazaar. The bazaar, itself, has been going on almost 25 years. I love going back as, besides being a good money-making show for me, it's also a chance to catch up with some old friends and neighbors. And, I get to see how much the kids have changed in the past year. Some of the youngsters that I know pretty well were just infants when I started attending this event. Now, they are in college and a couple are even married and parents already. Talk about feeling old!

The only bad thing about this show, however, is that now that I've retired and moved down home again, it is an hour plus drive each way to get there and back. And I have to do it two days in a row. I told the organizers that if I'm still able to do this show again next year, I'm going to get a hotel room up there so that I don't have to drive two days in a row. That way, I can arrange to have dinner with friends on Saturday night and not have to get up at 5:30am on Sunday to get to the show. Maybe then I won't be so worn out that it takes another full day to recuperate!

I've also decided that I'm going to work really hard this coming winter, designing and creating new things to sell. I have lots and lots of fabric, thread, and a new sewing machine to play with. I've been giving serious thought to going back to my doll making. I keep wanting to create something fantastical and beautiful, so I think that I'm going to try and do just that. Then I'll be all ready for next year's craft show season.

Computer Crashes

Well, this sucks. For the second time in the past six months, my computer has crashed and I have had to recover my original programming. Of course, that means that everything that I had saved on my computer got wiped out and I've had to start over locating things - like my blog - from scratch TWICE. It's not that I mind having to spend the time recreating my Favorites or re-loading all of my program files so much as it is the fact that as I get older, it's harder to remember what I lost.

Oh, I remember the big things, like my Christmas card list, and the websites that I visit every day. I talking about the crafts projects that I had been marking that marking that I wanted to try one day, and the patterns that I've been accumulating along the way. Now I have to start over again to find the ones that I want to use. I suppose it will be a good brain exercise for me to remember all of the things that I want.

Ah, well, it could be worse. It could be my brain that lost the memory instead of my computer. As long as I can still remember what it is that I want to look for, I guess that I'll be okay. I'm sure that I'll find the patterns that I want again eventually. And just think about all of the new things I'll find while surfing the web for the ones I've lost. So here's to a fresh start and the thrill of the hunt!

A New Craft Selling Site

Okay, today I was pointed to a new site for selling hand-crafted items. I went over to it to check things out and ended up signing up for it and listing three of my necklaces for sale. There are no insertion fees to list items (at least, not at this time) and only a 3% of the selling price fee once you sell something. The site is Crobbies.com (stands for Crafts and Hobbies). Unlike Etsy, there are not a whole lot of items listed currently, so the stuff I posted today is still up on the feature page. When I posted on Etsy, by the time I finished listing eight pieces, they had all been moved off of the first page and were buried among a group of approximately 1200 jewelry pieces that had been listed during the same time that I was listing. It took me 30 minutes to finally find my stuff in the general sales area! Of course, they were all readily available on my home page, but no one knew that address yet, so hardly anyone saw my things during the three months that they were there.

Oh, you say that items on Etsy are supposed to be on for four months? Correct, but my credit card info needed to be updated and since I was moving, but the time I got back to Etsy to give them the updated info, they had removed my items from the website and even after I gave them the correct info, they wouldn't put them back up. They wanted me to re-list them and pay the insertion fees again! So, no more Etsy for me. I have been selling some of my collectibles on eBay with success, but I just cannot bring myself to list my handcrafted jewelry pieces for auction for $.99 or $1.99. If they were to sell for an opening bid, I would be losing a lot of money as those bids would not even cover the cost of my materials. So, I will continue to take my things to the local craft shows, and now I have Crobbies.com, too.

If you read about this site, I hope you'll click on the link and check out all of the beautiful handcrafted items there. Thanks for reading!

Craft Show Season Has Arrived!

Wow, it's finally time for my craft shows to start. Actually, I did a show the first weekend in September, so that counts as my first show of the year. It was at the Aroma Park Two Rivers Festival, an outdoor event that's held in Riggs Grove right at the junction of the the Kankakee and Iroquois rivers. The show time was set for 10am to 6pm, with set up beginning at 8am. It was a long, long day.

I got there about 8:30 and was able to drive up to my spot to unload everything. Since it's an outdoor show, I had to bring my own table and chair as well as all of my crafts. Once the car was unloaded, I parked the car over in the designated area and went back to set up my display. I had brought my sweater coat with me that morning 'cause it was a little chilly that early. I was sure that I would soon shed it, and I did while I was setting up. I got everything set up in about 45 minutes and went to get my free coffee and donut, but there wasn't anyone manning the concession stand. This guy who was starting up the grills behind the stand got my breakfast for me and I asked him where everyone was. After all, they had made an announcement to the vendors that the coffee and donuts were there for us. He told me that everyone had headed downtown for the parade.

The parade. It started at 11am in downtown Aroma Park, about 1/2 mile from the festival site. And even though all of the vendors had to be set up for the 10am start, it looked like there were not going to be any customers until after the parade - about noon. So, we all just wandered around checking out everyone else's stuff. There were a couple of other people who were selling jewelry, several home decor vendors, a lady selling the cutest jeans bags and kids clothes as well as a few folks who had typical farmers market and flea market stuff. All in all, a pretty good mix of crafts and junk.

We could tell when the parade was over, because it ended right outside the festival site. The band led the way and the customers followed. We have a pretty steady stream of folks for the rest of the afternoon. The organizers had set up a kid's games area just beyond the vendor area and we had good traffic all day long. I had a lot of folks stopping to admire my work. I actually sold one of my expensive Swarovski component bracelets, as well as a few other things. I ended the day selling about $50 over my table cost, and that's what I like. (Any show that I make table fee times two or three is a really good show.) Oh, and that sweater coat that I brought - I put it back on about 2:30. You see, we were in a totally shady area under these towering aspen trees and there was a pretty stiff breeze off the rivers, so it was pretty cool out there. Glad I brought the sweater coat.

At about 5:15, I started putting my jewelry back in its little bags, but left the bags on the table. We were supposed to stay until 6, but I didn't want to wait until then to start packing up. I was afraid it would get too dark if I waited. Once I had all of the jewelry back in its bags, I was able to grab it pretty quickly and put it into it's little pink bag. Most of the other vendors started shutting down at about 5:40, so I started folding and packing my stuff, too. Once I had everything packed up, I went and got my car and pulled it up next to my space. I packed up the car and was out of there by 6:15. I was home before 7 and was really happy to take off my shoes and sit down. The next day, though, I could barely walk (all that standing and walking around on muddy, uneven ground on Saturday), so I spent the day just lazing around the house.

Anyway, that was the start of my craft show season. And now I'm working on my inventory for the next show, which is on October 19/20. This one is an indoor show and I'm looking forward to it. I've been making these little dolls, which were originally created by a lady as a swap with her friends. My dolls are a take-off of that idea, but instead of just having a ribbon hanger on them, I plan on adding a lobster claw clasp so that they can be snapped onto a purse pull or a cell phone. I'm hoping the tweens and teens will like them. Each doll is made from one 5" charm square, and since I'm adding the clasp, I'm thinking of calling them "Charm Dolls". My goal is to have two dozen of these ready for the show. I'm also working on some 9" and 10" ankle bracelets. I had a couple of folks ask me for them at the last show and one lady is planning on coming to the next show to see if I actually got them made. I want to have about a dozen of those ready, and I hope that lady shows up and buys a couple of them. I will also have my Halloween Trick-or-Treat bags at that show, and I hope they sell. People at the last show thought they were cute, but I think it was too far out from Halloween for them to buy them.

After the October show, I have shows on November 8 and November 15, followed by my traditional season ending two-day event at St. Gertrude's Church in Chicago. I have been doing that show for almost 20 years, and I already have orders for a couple of extra long table runners. I'm hoping to have a bunch of the Charm Dolls as well as more of my jewelry, holiday table runners, tree skirts, stockings and ornaments. By the time St. Gert's gets here, I will probably be ready for a nice break from crafting, but you know, I have seen some really, really cute things over the past few months and I think that I can actually make money with some of them. So, I might not be taking such a long crafting break after all.

Happybird's Crafting Haven

I love the internet. You can find some of the best information about all kinds of things. Since I'm a crafter, I am always on the lookout for good craft sites - and I found a really good one. The lady's moniker is Happybird and her website is Happybird's Crafting Haven. I've posted the link to her site here. Happybird loves to share her joy of crafting with everyone and acts as a clearing house of information. Her blog is what I hope mine evolves into one day. In the meantime, I'll just keep popping into hers every once in a while to see what's new. Do yourself a favor and check her site out, but I've got to warn you. Once you start checking out her site, it is really hard to stop.

Happy Crafting!

Family Reunion

A couple of weeks ago, the Mathy Family got together for one of its reunions (we have them about every five years). We gathered in Clifton, Illinois on June 28-29 for two days of food, photos, and remembrances. There were two books handed out at this reunion. The first was the family directory, which lists all of the descendants of Edward and Mary (Riordan) Mathy - my grandparents - and current addresses, emails and phone numbers. The directory shows that there are 405 family members (including stepfamily members). Subtracting the deceased members (25), we have a total of 380 living family members. There were approximately 350 family members at this reunion. The second book handed out is titled "Recipes & Remembrances - The Mathy Family Cookbook". It is a compilation of 349 recipes passed on from five generations of family. I can't wait to try some of them. Of course, there are a few from our branch of the family that I'm already familiar with, but there are still a lot of others that I want to experiment with.

The weekend started with a hotdog/hamburger cookout on Saturday afternoon. We ended up with about 180 folks there. This meal was originally put together to deal with all of the out-of-town family who came in on Saturday for the main reunion on Sunday. When you bring that many folks into our little towns, it puts a real strain on the local restaurants, so we started having a Saturday night meal for all of those family members. That way, they didn't have to worry about getting everybody dressed up to go to a restaurant. It also helped cut down on the cost!

On Sunday, there was a mass at Sts. Mary & Joseph Catholic Church in Chebanse, the town just north of Clifton. That church is bigger than the one in Clifton, and since a lot of the family are members there anyway, we use that church for mass. Each family wears a different colored teeshirt, so mass was a brightly colored affair that Sunday morning. It was easy to tell who the Mathys were - they were all in teeshirts! We started using the colored teeshirts at our first big reunion in 1989. It has become the way to tell which family the kids belong to. There have been some color changes over the years, but not many, so you know that if you see someone in a green teeshirt, they're from Duane and Jennie's family, and if they're in blue, Russ and Rosie's. We used to take a big panoramic photo of the family, but we've gotten so big that this time we just took pictures of the individual families. Even those took a while to get set up (one family is over 75 and another over 60). Getting all those folks to sit still for five minutes can be a real pain. I'm going to post a photo of my family (Duane and Jennie's) here. Hope it works.

In case you're wondering how you feed a group of over 300, here's how we did it. Each family brings a meat dish (lots of fried chicken, some meatloaf, ham and roast pork loin), vegetables, salads and desserts - enough to feed their own family. Of course, everyone thinks they need to make just a little more than usual, so we end up with enough food to feed three times as many as show up. This year was no exception. We had enough food left over to feed at least another 300 people. There were at least six huge containers of fried chicken, on top of the other meats. We had potatoes of every sort (mashed, cheesed, fried, hashed) as well as green bean casseroles, broccoli rice, mostaccoli, spinach, corn souffles and Italian style vegetables. Not to mention potato salad, cole slaw, fruit salads and jello salads galore. Then there were the desserts - three 8foot tables full! If anybody went away from that day hungry, it was their own fault.

We shared old photos and old stories. The older generation (there are only six of them left now) told us about the day their brother Donald's body was returned from Denmark after WWII. He had been killed in action in Germany in 1945, just before the end of the war and was buried in Denmark until 1947, when his body was returned with a full honor guard. Uncle Donald had been awarded the Purple Heart and the Bronze Star (for meritorious conduct) posthumously. A lot of the third generation family members had never heard the story, so Aunt Dorothy, Uncle Ed, Aunt Marilyn and Aunt MaryAnn related the events of the day Uncle Donald came home. There were many tears as we heard of his heroism in the face of enemy fire and about the honor guard of officers who brought him to his final rest.

The day continued with card games and visiting. The youngsters went swimming at the pool next door and the older folks sat in groups talking and catching up with others. Late in the afternoon, ice cream was served. It was store-bought, since there were so many of us, but it did bring out the stories of how we used to have Sunday dinner at the farm with Grandma and Granpa, and how, after dinner, Grandma would mix up a batch of her homemade vanilla ice cream and us kids would be put to work cranking the old-fashioned ice cream maker. No electricity was used back then. Just good old-fashioned kid power! And if the season was right, we'd have fresh strawberries from Grandma's patch to go with it. Ah, that was great ice cream.

It started clouding up around 5:30 on Sunday, so folks started packing up. Food was wrapped up and sent home with everyone. Chairs and tables were folded up and the hall was swept up. The ladies cleaned up the kitchen and the men cleared off the pavilion, and one by one, the families started leaving amid many hugs and kisses. And suddenly, after months and months of planning and organizing, the reunion was over. We won't be getting together again, except for weddings and funerals, for six years. At that time, it will be Ed and Mary's 100th anniversary. By that time, we may have lost a few more of the older generation, but I'll bet we'll have gained a lot more of the younger ones. Who knows, by 2014 we may be over 500.

I'm Retired

The past six months have been full of change in my life. The arthritis in my joints had gotten so bad that I could no longer do my job without a lot of pain - and a lot of mistakes - so, at the end of February, I quit working. I've been in the process of filing for Social Security Disability since then. You wouldn't believe the forms, and the redundancy. Hopefully, though, the end is in sight and I'll get a positive adjudication. If not, I'll have to hire an attorney, or just get along on my savings until I can file for early SS in November (I turn 62 in December). In the meantime, I have made some pretty big changes in my life.

I just finished moving down to Clifton, Illinois, the home village of my family. My sisters and brother live in Chebanse, just to the north, but I have nephews and nieces who live in Clifton. For the first time, I didn't have to do it all by myself, or hire movers. And that is evidently thanks to my mother.

Mom passed away in September of 2007, after a valiant five year battle with breast cancer. Unbeknownst to me, she made my siblings promise to help me when the time came. You see, Mom is the only one who ever really understood just how much pain I've been in for the past eleven years. It seems that one of my doctors told her something after one of my knee replacement surgeries in 2000 that made her worry. I have no idea what he told her, but it was enough to cause Mom to exact promises from my siblings before she died. My sisters, by the way, don't think I'm as disabled as all that, primarily because I still do my crafts. What they fail to understand is that I've been able to adapt my crafts so that I can continue to do them. I could not do the same for my work skills.

I was a legal secretary who used to type at 80 wpm with no errors, and could sustain that speed for extended periods of time (extremely helpful when preparing large court documents on a deadline). At the end, I was pushing myself as hard as I could, but my speed had slowed to less than 65 wpm and I was having to spend more and more time making corrections due to my growing inability to control my finger movement. Also, I had to keep taking breaks to stand up and move around. I used to be able to sit for 4-5 hours straight without stopping. Just before I retired, I was having to get up every 40 minutes or so to walk around and to shake out my hands and fingers in order to continue. The pain in my wrists and fingers was also reflected in the loss of strength in my hands. I was having trouble lifting file folders of any size (and in litigation, file folders can get to be six or seven inches thick). I dropped a folder one day which resulted in my spending about 20 minutes reorganizing the file, which put me even further behind.

The skills I need for crafting are different from those I used for working. When I'm sewing, I can keep my hands flat and fairly immobile. I'm not causing too much stress on my joints that way and I'm not lifting any weight. I don't do as much creative work on my jewelry as I used to because of the loss of dexterity in my much stiffened fingers. Most of my work now is simple stringing - and even that is beyond me on certain days. And at this point, however, it is my crafts that have been keeping me afloat financially. During this past spring, I was doing at least two craft shows a month, which resulted in my not having to dip so much into my savings, and which is why I didn't have to move from my old apartment until now.

As I said earlier, my sisters helped me with my move. Of course, I'm not as neat a housekeeper as they are, so I have been having to put up with a barrage of disparaging remarks about my lifestyle for the past three weeks. One sister told me that I had too many clothes and that I should get rid of everything but two weeks worth of outfits for summer and two weeks of outfits for winter. I don't know about you, but I like to have choice in what I wear. My friends think her idea is absurd. But that's just the way she is - a material minimalist when it comes to other people. She and her husband, daughter and son-in-law helped me move my things from my old apartment down to the new one (it cost me less to do it that way ($160) than it would have to hire movers ($180/hr with a 7 hr minimum)), and I am extremely grateful for their help. However, I am glad that she is letting me put my new apartment together myself. She has offered to come help me finish unpacking and organizing next week. Hopefully, I'll have most of that finished before she comes down.

It's getting late now and it's taken me a lot longer to get this post prepared than usual. My fingers and hands are really beginning to ache, so I guess it's time to stop for now. (Time was when I could have sat writing for hours without a problem.) More later.

My Horrible Summer - Part 2

I went into the hospital for my surgery on Monday, July 3. I did not have my surgery on that date, however. The doctor stopped by to see me later that evening and told me that they were going to try to get me into the operating room on Tuesday, July 4th. Unfortunately, there were a couple of major accidents that day that tied up the operating rooms (5 major surgeries) for the entire day. Dr. Perez said we would try for Wednesday. I called Mom to tell her what he said, and early on Wednesday afternoon, Mom showed up with my sister, Karen. Karen works for a doctor so she asked questions and told me exactly what had happened to me two weeks earlier. It seems that the acute pancreatitis could have killed me if I hadn't gotten treatment so quickly. Mom, Karen and I watched the Cubs game on television. The nurses were checking in with us every few hours. Finally, at 7:30pm, the chief surgical resident, Eric Woo, came into my room to tell me that if I had the surgery on Wednesday, it would be close to midnight. He felt we should just go ahead and do it on Thursday, so I sent Mom and Karen home. The doctor ordered a heavy duty sedative for me so that I could get some rest.

The next morning started with a bout of vomiting and pain. I was only allowed ice chips in preparation for the surgery. I asked when it would be, because I promised Mom that I would call her before I went in so that she could come to be with me when I came out of the surgery. No one knew the answer. I talked to Mom about four times during the day. Then suddenly, at about 7:30, the orderlies showed up to take me to surgery. I told them that I had to call my family, and one of the nurses said that she would do it. I showed her the phone number and asked her to call for me. Then off to surgery I went. I was brought back to my room at about 11:30 with an IV in my neck (all of my other veins had been blown by the nurses and aides drawing blood over the previous three days). I asked if my mom had been called, but the night nurse didn't know. What I didn't realize was that I had been put in a different room (my second in three days). When I woke up on Friday morning, I thought it was odd that Mom hadn't called to check on me. Finally, about 11 am, the phone rang, and there was Mom crying. I asked her what was wrong. She told me that she thought I had died because she had been calling my room for hours and hours and couldn't get anyone to answer. She finally got the main phone number for the hospital and got through to the surgical floor nursing station. That's when they told her that I had gone to surgery the night before and been put into a different room. Mom was frantic trying to find me.

I was furious (even if I was still groggy from the anesthetic). I called for the nursing supervisor, who showed up two hours later. I told her that I had been promised by the nurse that she would call my mother to let her know that I had gone into surgery, but that not only had the nurse not called her, no one had bothered to answer the phone in my old room to tell Mom that I had been moved. I told them that my mother had cancer and was not in good health, and what they had put her through did not help. The supervisor apologized for any stress, but said that it wasn't the hospital's policy to call relatives. I yelled at her that I would have called myself, but the nurse and the orderlies wouldn't let me have five minutes to do it. I had been in that hospital for three and a half days waiting for surgery, and the f***ing staff wouldn't let me have five minutes to make a call to my family. By the time I finished my tirade, the nursing supervisor was much more apologetic and had changed her tone. I think I even threatened a law suit for emotional abuse.

The nurse who was assigned to me that afternoon was a sweetheart. She asked me what I did to scare the nursing supervisor. I told her about what had happened the night before and the supervisor's attitude when she had finally showed up to talk to me. The nurse laughed and said, "good for you. Some of these people around here forget that we're here to help the patients, and they don't treat them very well." I agreed with her. She became my favorite helper during the rest of the ordeal that I went through. You see, because of the pancreatitis, I had developed a life-threatening infection in my blood. I was on antibiotics for almost three months to get rid of it. I spent the first 16 days of that time at St. James, during which time there were no less than four doctors taking care of me. I had test after test to try and figure out just exactly what was ailing me. All the time, I kept throwing up or having diarrhea. My blood sugar went crazy because I wasn't taking my medication. The doctors ordered insulin boosters, which, once I started taking my glucouphage again, caused me to crash in the middle of the night a couple of times. One night about 2am, I rang for the aide to help me get to the commode next to my bed (all of my IV tubes were tangled up) and I asked her when my blood sugar was going to be taken again. She asked me why, was I feeling funny. I said yes, I'm not feeling too great, so she went to get the meter and tested my blood sugar. It was 64 (normal is 100+) and she went running out of the room. She was back in a flash with two cartons of orange juice, and told me to drink both of them.

A couple of nights later, the same thing happened. I was given an insulin booster at about 9pm (after the last blood sugar test for the day), and I woke up around 1:30am, again feeling really weird. I rang for the aide and asked her to test my blood sugar. I told her that I thought I was crashing, and sure enough, the blood sugar level was only 78. She got me some apple juice and I felt better. The next night, the nurse came in after the blood test and said that she had to give me an insulin booster. I asked her if I really had to have it. She told me that it was my right to refuse any medication that I wanted to. As far as she and the other nurses were concerned, they thought the doctor's orders for insulin if my blood sugar was over 140 was not right. Normally, they would not give an insulin booster to someone unless their blood sugar was over 180. So I refused the insulin, and slept through the entire night without a problem. After that, if my blood sugar was below 160, I refused the insulin. The nurses were with me. I was taking my other medicine and that was doing the job. No more insulin.

On top of the problems with crashing, the insulin was also causing me to retain fluid and my legs swelled up very badly. My skin was so stretched that water started seeping from the cells. I had a towel under my feet to catch the drips. My feet were freezing because they were wet and the room was air-conditioned. It was so cold in my room because it was so hot outside (the temperature during my stay in the hospital had been in the 90's for almost two weeks). One of the med students who looked in on my every day told her internal medicine supervisor about my swollen legs. He came in and asked if anything was being done for them. I said, no, and I had told the nurses that when my legs started swelling, I was taking 20mg of furosemide to get rid of the fluid, but I wasn't getting any in the hospital. He said, I'll take care of that and ordered an immediate injection of 40mg of lasix to start the process. After that I would get a 20mg tablet each day. Of course, that meant that I had to start running to the bathroom a lot, but at least something was being done.

Speaking of my room, by day ten, I was in my fifth different room. I kept having to call Mom and tell her the new room number and extension. The problem was that all of the rooms were two beds and most of the patients were women, so when two guys came through emergency surgery, they needed a room for them, so they kept moving the women around in order to free up a room. I ended up with several new roommates during my stay, once I was finally settled in my last room. One was only there for one night (she was the nicest). There was one old lady who had had hip surgery that came in on Saturday evening. She was in my room for two and a half days. The old woman's daughters (one was a nurse) kept trying to bully her into doing what the doctor wanted. She refused to do therapy so that she could be moved to rehab and had been making every roommate that she'd had miserable. They put her into a machine that moves the leg and hip joint, but she kept undoing the straps and getting out of it because it was uncomfortable. Of course, that meant that she was screwing up the surgery and causing herself a lot of pain, so she was constantly ringing for the nurse to get painkillers. The problem was that she was not letting them take effect before she'd start yelling for the nurse again. On Sunday night, I was trying to sleep and this old woman just kept screaming. I pleaded with the nurse to please, please give her a sedative to put her out so that I could get some sleep. By the time the morning shift came on duty, I had a serious migraine and was close to screaming at the old bitch to shut up. The nurses finally got her out of the room to therapy, then they gave me a heavy duty painkiller and closed up the area around my bed so that I could get some sleep. They also had some words with the woman's daughter. Luckily, she was moved to the rehab facility that afternoon and I didn't have to put up with her any more.

By that time, I had been in the hospital for two weeks, and I wanted to go home. They had put a PICC line into my right arm because I no longer had any viable veins to use for my IVs. My body was covered in bruises from all of the blood draws and IVs. My right hand had swollen to double its normal size because of an IV that blew out and a nurse who didn't believe me when I told her that. She just wiggled it around, causing me mucho pain, and said it was fine. The problem was that the needle had slipped out of the vein and the IV fluid was simply going into the tissue of my fingers and hand. My fingers were nearly purple when the night nurse came on and I showed her. She ran to get a doctor. The took out the offending IV and ordered alternating ice packs and heat pads. The doctor told me to keep the hand as elevated as possible to promote the release of the excess fluid. My fingers looked like purple sausages and I was afraid that I was going to lose the use of my right hand. After one of her visits, my sister, Karen, told my other sisters that they needed to get me out of that hospital before it killed me. I agreed with her.

I was finally able to find out exactly what was going on that Monday after I woke up from my much needed nap. A new intern came in, Christina, and introduced herself. She asked me what was going on with me, and I told her that I didn't really know. There was a constant stream of doctors in to examine me, but they never told me anything. They just seemed to be writing conflicting orders in my chart at the nurses station. I told her about the so-called infection and that I didn't know why I couldn't go home since the surgery scars were healing nicely. I also wanted the PICC line out of my arm. She promised to look at my chart and come back later to discuss it with me. She returned about four hours later and that is when I finally found out just how deadly the infection in my blood was. Christina also told me that I would have to keep having IV antibiotics for a couple of months after I left the hospital. I called Mom and told her what Christina had said. Mom said, come home and we'll take care of it. So I called for one of my doctors and said that I was leaving the hospital on Wednesday and that they had better get busy and make it happen. He didn't want me to leave. I pulled back the blanket and showed him my feet and held up my right hand, and I said that if he and the hospital didn't want a multi-million dollar lawsuit for what they had done to me, he'd better make sure that I was allowed to go home within the next couple of days with the necessary in-home care - or else.

Suddenly, there were people from the patient services department coming in and out and making the arrangements that I wanted. I told them where I was going to be for my recovery and which home nursing organization they should call. For people who are supposed to take care of patient needs, these folks didn't have a clue if the patient was going to be outside of their immediate circle for recovery purposes. Finally, everything was in place. Mom came to the hospital on Wednesday afternoon with Diana and Ken (bless them for being such caring people), and I was finally discharged. Kenny pulled the car up to the front door and I got out of the wheelchair into the front seat. I hooked up my seat belt, Mom and Diana got into the back seat, and we pulled away from the hospital. I burst into tears. Ken asked if he should take me back. I said, no, I'm crying because I thought I'd never get out of that place alive. I got myself under control and we headed home. I was so weak, I didn't believe it. When we got to Kankakee, we stopped to drop off my prescriptions at the Walgreens, then Ken and Diana took me to Mom's and went on home. That's when I really lost it. Mom understood and just held me. I had been so scared that those people were going to kill me with all of their conflicting orders. I really was very happy to be out of that hospital. Mom made me go lay down on the bed while she ran back into Kankakee to pick up my drugs. I went to bed at 8 o'clock that night and it was the best sleep I had had in over a month. After that my healing really began.

The following morning, Mom went to get her hair done and to get her allergy shots with my sister, Janis. I let the guy from the home health care in. He was bringing all of the supplies that I would need to give myself my IV antibiotics. Mom got home around 12:30 and the visiting nurse showed up right after that. She was a wonderful young woman and helped Mom and I set up my first IVs. She stayed with us all afternoon while the IVs were dripping. She had her computer with her and took all of my information. Mom and I were a little nervous, but the nurse was very good at showing us everything that we had to do. Mom wrote it all down, step by step. Later that afternoon, my cousins from New York arrived for a visit. Judy, who is an inhalation therapist, looked through all of the stuff that I was taking. She checked me out thoroughly and said, what did that hospital do to you? I told her the story of my last two weeks and she was horrified. She said that you had to have someone there looking out for you or the hospitals would take advantage. She told about what she had to do when her brother, John, had his heart attack. She fought with the hospital personnel in order to get John the necessary treatment. His doctor told him that if Judy hadn't insisted on the one test that the hospital didn't want to do, John probably would have died. Anyway, Judy was telling my sisters and my Mom what I should be getting and what support I was going to need. I excused myself at around 8:30 and went to bed. It was so nice having all of those people looking after me. My healing was really happening. More later.

My Horrible Summer - Part One

As posted previously, 2006 turned out to be an awful year for me. First, I lost my job, but that was just the high point. I was laid off in May and in mid-June, I got sick. I had been scheduled to have a gastric by-pass on June 6, but the insurance company insisted that I do a year of doctor-supervised diet first. It wasn't like my regular doctor and I hadn't been trying to get my body to shed weight for years before. I eat a healthy diet, but because of the degenerative joint disease that I suffer from, I cannot maintain a good exercise program. I've had both of my knee joints replaced, but now the DJD is settling in my hips and lower spine, which makes it near impossible to do cardio exercises for any length of time (standing in one place for 10 minutes causes me pain). So we made the decision that I would look into having the surgery.

I found a surgeon at Rush University Hospital that a friend of mine had used. Anne had a gastric by-pass in 2004. She lost 103 pounds and in late 2005 she had plastic surgery to remove the last 30 pounds of excess skin. She went from a size 24 to a size 8 and looked great. I was hoping to lose about 130 pounds, too. I weighed in at 265, and at 5'1", that extra weight was just too much for my poor bones to carry. Oops, I mean my poor joints, because, you see, exercize helps to make your bones strong, and carrying around an extra 130 pounds every day made my bones pretty good. Tests confirmed that I have good bone density. It's the stress that the weight puts on my joints that is bad. So, anyway, I went through this whole series of tests (I took 2 personal days to get through them all), and was scheduled for surgery on June 6. Then I got laid off.

The lay-off wasn't going to hurt my getting surgery, though, since the firm had agreed to pay the Cobra on all of my insurance for six months. So, I went ahead with my plans to have the surgery. Then, the week before the surgery was scheduled, I got a letter from the insurance company saying that they would not pay for the surgery unless I did a year of doctor-supervised diet. I called the surgeon's nurse and was told not to worry about it. The insurance companies send those letters all of the time. She was working on it. The week before the surgery, I still had no time for the surgery start so I called the nurse back. It turns out that she was on vacation, and the nurse covering for her told me that they were still trying to get the approval from the insurance company. This was on a Thursday, and my surgery was scheduled for the following Tuesday. I asked when the other nurse would be back. I was told she would return on Monday. I asked to speak to the doctor and was told that he was on vacation, too. I said, fine, then tell them when they get back that I've decided to do the year of supervised diet, and since I already have an appointment with the dietician set for the end of June, I'll start it then. The back-up nurse was quite upset with me. She said that I should wait. I told her that if the surgeon and his nurse didn't care enough about my surgery to make sure everything was set before they left on vacation, then we would do it my way, and the hell with them. That was on June 1.

On June 17, I was out doing some shopping and I started to feel really bad. I recognized the symptoms - a gall bladder attack. I headed for home to do the usual "throw up a couple of times and have a horrible bout of diarrhea". I spent the rest of Saturday afternoon and night throwing up, but the diarrhea never came. My belly just kept getting bigger and I was in so much pain, I didn't know what to do. I called my regular doctor early on Sunday morning, and he said that it sounded like my gall bladder had really blown up and to get myself to an emergency room. I called my sister Diana and told her where I was heading and how to get there. My family lives about 40 miles aways from me and doesn't know the South Suburbs too well. Anyway, I asked Diana if she could get Mom up to see me, 'cause I knew that Mom would be upset and would want to come, and I didn't want her driving on her own. I then headed to the emergency room at St. James Hospital, about a mile from my apartment.

I got to the emergency room and checked in. They put me in a wheel chair to wait, since the pain was so bad that I couldn't walk any more. I was there for about an hour when my Mom showed up with my sister Diana and her husband, Ken. It was Father's Day, and Ken and Diana were headed down to Charleston to their youngest son's house for dinner, but they called to cancel to help Mom get to the hospital. We were in the waiting room for another hour when I asked Diana to grab the wastebasket sitting in the corner. I was about to throw up again. Diana got it for me, then went to the desk and told them that I was throwing up and how much longer it would be. The nursing staff took me back to a holding room immediately and gave me a little tub to use instead of the wastebasket. I emptied my stomach again, and sat there for about 30 more minutes before they got me a bed.

Once I got to a bed, I changed into a dressing gown and got on the bed. The nurses set up an IV and got me comfortable. It was another hour before I finally saw a doctor. History was taken and tests were ordered. Mom stayed with me constantly, but Diana had to leave when they started putting the needles into me. She can't stand the sight of needles and tubes, 'cause they make her pass out. Mom went out to check on her and came back and said that they were going to leave and that I should call once I knew what was going on. I said that it was okay. It was 7:30 pm and I had been at the hospital since 1:30 that afternoon. I had my calling card with me and told Mom that I would call her as soon as I had a room, but not to wait up that night because I had a feeling it was going to be a long wait. And long it was.

A second doctor came in to check on me at about 9:30. He said the preliminary tests were showing that I had acute pancreatitis. I said, "what about my gall bladder?" He told me that it was the gall bladder going bad that was causing the pancreatitis. They were going to have to get the pancreatitis under control before the gall bladder could be removed. I finally was put into a room at 2:15 am. I had been at the hospital for over 13 hours. They gave me more pain medication and started me on antibiotics. I slept fitfully throughout the rest of the night, and I kept waking up to throw up. They finally gave me something to stop the vomitting.

The next morning, I called Mom to let her know what room I was in and what the doctors had told me. I had a visit from a surgeon, but she did primarily breast surgery and her partner who did the abdominal surgery was out of the country, so she wanted to wait for his return the following week. In the meantime, they kept giving me antibiotics and pain killers and there were finally sounds in my bowels again, so they sent me home on Friday afternoon with instructions to call the surgeon on Monday morning. I called his office first thing on Monday, told them what I had been instructed to by the other surgeon and got an appointment for Wednesday. I told them I thought I could hold out that long. In the meantime, I was living on vicodin and levaquin. I'd take a 30mg of vicodin, which would put me out for about two hours. I'd get up and try to eat something. Yogurt was about the only thing I could keep down. I'd watch tv for a while, but the pain would start coming back after about four and a half hours, and I would start throwing up again. I knew that I had to endure it as long as I could. I was only supposed to take the vicodin every six hours. It never lasted that long, but I'd hold out at least five hours before I took the next one.

Wednesday morning, I was getting myself ready for the visit with the surgeon that afternoon when my phone rang. It was the surgeon's office calling to say that his mother had died in Puerto Rico (which is where he had been the week before) and that he had gone back for her funeral. They would have to move my appointment to the following Monday. I cried and asked if there wasn't someone else who could do the surgery now. They said that they could contact his partner, but she had already told me that she wouldn't do it. So I had to survive another five days of pain and throwing up. It was the longest week of my life. I cancelled all of my job-search meetings and only went out of the apartment to get my mail. It was a never-ending cycle of pain killers, sleep, eating and vomitting. There were constant phone calls from my mom. She was so worried about me, and I felt bad that she was having to worry so.

Monday morning, July 3, I took a pain pill about 5am. At 8, I got up, took a shower and started packing a bag. I arranged for a cab to pick me up at 12:30. I didn't eat anything, just drank water. At 10:30 I took another pill and laid down for about 45 minutes. I got a call from the cabbie that he was at my front door at 12:15. I went right down and gave him the address to the doctor's office. I didn't mind being early because I knew that I was going to have to fill out papers. I did and was sent downstairs to Dr. Perez's office right on time. I was in a wheel chair, 'cause walking was very painful. I went in to an examining room and a few minutes later, Dr. Perez came in. He was looking over my chart from the stay in the hospital and asked if I was still in much pain. I said yes. He said that my gall bladder was indeed going to have to come out, but that we could do it one of two ways. He could treat me as an outpatient and then do a laparoscopic removal in a couple of weeks, or I could go into the hospital immediately and they would do the surgery as soon as they could get me into the rotate. My answer was to throw up all over the floor. I did manage to get to the sink for most of it. Dr. Perez said that he was going to call the hospital to arrange for a room and he sent a nurse in to help me. I got myself cleaned up from my just-in-case bag and the nurse helped me call a cab, which took me directly to St. James.

Once I got to the hospital, they admitted me. I looked for my phone card in order to call Mom, but I couldn't find it. The young lady working with me asked for Mom's phone number and she dialed it for me. I told Mom that I was being admitted and what room I was going to be in. I also told her that I had forgotten my phone card so I wasn't sure how often I could call her. She said get a pen and gave me her calling card info and told me to use it. She had over 1000 minutes on the card and not to worry about it. It was like she gave me a life-line when I got that number. A few minutes later, an orderly showed up to wheel me to my room. The nurses got me settled in and got an IV started. I settled in to await my surgery.

More later.

I'M BACK!!!

I actually finally managed to find my way back to this blog that I started in 2006. It was just a coincidence that I saw the blogspot.com website this morning, while I was checking out a quilt top made by one of the ladies who posts on the HGTV message boards. As I was looking at her pictures, I realized that they were part of her blog page, and it stirred my memory, so I tried logging on and discovered that my previous posts were still here!

So, what's been happening since I was last here - a whole lot. It started in May 2006 when I got laid off from my job at a law firm in Chicago. The firm had had a great 2005 and settled four major litigation cases. The bonuses that year were great. Unfortunately, as those cases wrapped up, it became very apparent that there were going to be a lot of attorneys with no work to do, and the firm decided to counsel about twenty attorneys to find jobs elsewhere. I lost one of my attorney, a fourth year associate. She was pretty much out of the office by November of 2005, but still on the payroll until February of 2006. My workload dropped. Then, in April, I started noticing that the partner that I had worked with for nearly nine years had started having "mysterious" lunches with other law firms. He announced that he would be leaving the firm on May 4. He told me that he could not take me with him at that time. I said not to worry about it because I had five years in at that firm and really wanted to stay there until I retired. So he left having been assured that I would be okay.

Three days later, on a Tuesday afternoon, I was to meet with the folks in HR. I figured it was to get my new assignment. Instead, I was informed that I was to be terminated as of May 12, the next Friday. I was given a settlement package that would be mine only if I agreed not to sue because of my separation. I was more than a little upset. You see, I was scheduled to have a gastric bypass surgery on June 6. The good news was that the firm was offering to pay the Cobra payments on my medical for six full months (the end of November) as part of my settlement. Needless to say, I didn't sign anything that day. The firm had my computer turned off while I was meeting with HR, so I couldn't even make copies of my personal stuff to take with me. I had to tell them what I wanted and they put it on a cd for me, which was shipped with the boxes of my personal stuff the following week. I went home immediately after the meeting and started calling My attorneys (the partner and associate that I used to work with).

The partner (Jeff) was absolutely pissed when he found out that I had been let go. He had been told by HR the previous week that I would be taken care of. The associate (Myra) was totally angry with the firm. Her fiance is a labor lawyer, so she had me talk to him to discuss what my options were. His advise was to get out of the office immediately, then wait a week before signing any documents. I was going to be paid for all of the vacation time I had coming, but I would not be paid for the 19 hours of personal time that I still had available. So, I went into the office on Wednesday (where, by the way, I was not allowed to discuss my termination with anyone). I finished packing up the rest of Jeff's files, then when my nosy neighbors left, I started packing up my personal stuff and putting the boxes in Jeff's old office. By 6:10, I had finished everything, so I took a bag of stuff with me and left five boxes in Jeff's office. Before leaving, I left a voice-mail message for the head of HR, telling her that "on advice of counsel" I was using 14 hours of the personal time that I had coming to cover Thursday and Friday, and that she would find the boxes of my personal stuff to be messengered to my home in Jeff's old office. I then left and caught the 6:38 train home.

The HR lady called me on Friday morning about getting the documents signed. I told her that my attorney was reviewing them and that we would be making a decision on how to proceed in a few days. I would let her know then what my plans were. She sounded a little shaken. You see, the firm was hoping that I'd just take what they offered without any discussion. When I let them know that I had contacted an employment lawyer, they were more than a little upset. If I had been able to afford it, I could have sued them for age discrimination, discrimination against the disabled, and illegal termination due to health problems. If I could have afforded it, I would have tied them up in litigation for several years, costing them thousands of dollars in legal fees, as well as most likely forcing them to pay me considerably more than they were offering. In the end, I just made them wait a week and a half before signing the documents. That was the beginning of one of the most horrible summers of my life, but that's for another post. I've got to get going for now. Later, all.