It’s been a really bad week so today’s article is going to be brief.
morning we got an early call that my mother-in-law had fallen and was
being taken to the hospital. My wife spent the whole day in the emergency
room with her where it was determined that she had a broken hip.
With her history of Alzheimer’s disease, TIA’s,
and short term memory loss there was a lot of consultation between all
of her doctors. This of course took all day, but by late afternoon she
had surgery to place some pins in her hip.
I was with my wife until late Wednesday and spent Thursday in the hospital
with her mother while she came home to rest a little. She spent Wednesday
and Thursday night with her mother. I’ll be going back for another shift
After the hospital, my mother-in-law will have to go to a nursing home
for rehabilitation. Hopefully she will be able to get back enough mobility
to return to the assisted living residence she’s been in for the last
few years. If not it will be a nursing home for the rest of her life.
Have any of you dealt with this sort of thing with an elderly parent?
Have you seen much success in getting people mobile after a broken hip?
Any encouraging words I can pass on to my wife?
On This Article
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“For you to be successful, sacrifices must be made. It is better that
they are made by others but failing that, you’ll have to make them yourself.”
- Rita Mae Brown
“Know the difference between success and fame. Success is Mother Teresa.
Fame is Madonna.” - Erma Bombeck
Two church members
were going door to door. They knocked on the door of a woman who clearly
was not happy to see them. She told them in no uncertain terms she
did not want to hear their message and then slammed the door in their
To her surprise, the door did not close. In fact, it bounced back
open. She tried again, really put her back into the job, and slammed
the door again.
Same results. The door bounced back like it was made of Silly Putty.
Convinced one of these rude church members was sticking a foot in
the door, she reared back to give the door a slam that would teach
them a lesson.
Just then, one of the church members said, “Ma’am, before you do that
again, you might want to move your cat.”
“A good heart will help you to a bonny face, my lad and a bad one will
turn the bonniest into something worse than ugly.”
“A person who has not done one half his day’s work by ten o clock, runs
a chance of leaving the other half undone.”
“Having leveled my palace, don’t erect a hovel and complacently admire
your own charity in giving me that for a home.” - All by English novelist
Emily Bronte born on this day in 1818
Speak right up!
Mankind has been mesmerized by the birds’ ability to fly ever since
someone noticed there was something in the sky moving around.
Our earliest recorded history, cave painting, show man’s hunting targets,
as well as those things he admired. Birds and other flying things
have been chronicled on cave walls in different ways than buffalo and
gazelles. A sense of admiration can easily be seen as they are
portrayed differently than potential prey.
Man went to much effort to emulate the birds. Much experimentation
was done to attempt to get humans off terra firma and into the air.
Finally, some guys came up with a workable plan and the rest is history.
Since then, mankind has taken to the air in many forms.
Of course we all know about the tubes people pile into that have wings
attached. Our airports are populated with them. Somewhere
between 1 million and 2 million people are flying in commercial aircraft
at any moment of the day somewhere in the world. Add to that those
flying in private aircraft.
the bulk of people are complacent to use commercial and private aircraft,
there are many who wish the experience to be more personal. Termed
"ultralight" aircraft, simply because they are considerably
lighter than their larger multi-passenger cousins, these are only single
or dual passenger craft. Unlike their bigger relatives, a pilot’s
license if not needed to operate one, even though they are required
to be inspected by authorities. Except for the noise of the small
motor and propeller, enthusiasts claim this is much like being a bird
as they have control of the craft and can stay aloft for as long as
their fuel holds out.
Purists opt for unpowered flight. Glider pilots claim their method
is closest to "real flight" although they discount the fact
a powered aircraft is necessary to get them there in the first place.
That leaves hang-glider users to claim unassisted flight. Both
types of gliders rely on air currents rising from the earth to maintain
flight of any duration at all. Hang-gliders launch by human power
and ride the currents much like buzzards and eagles. When the
riders tire or the favorable currents wane, they glide gently back to
where they started and gently land.
Human powered flight has been the goal all along, but until only recently,
such accomplishments have eluded us. Only by the investment of
a lot of money, and new technology application of materials, has it
been possible. One device consisting of a wheel, a set of pedals
connected to a propeller, a single seat, and a wingspan so large it
looked like a flying horseshoe was able to accomplish the feat to any
significant distance. But even this accomplishment is impractical.
It simply costs too much for anyone other than the severely rich.
Here’s your quiz:
Have you ever flown?
If you have, what have you flown in?
Would you be willing to fly in anything you built?
Flight - Birds Don’t Own The Skies
Cliff (the High-Tech Redneck who doesn’t rate a fancy ’signature pic’)
on this article
greater the power, the more dangerous the abuse.”
~ Edmund Burke ~
From my blog, Running
When I got home from work on Tuesday, my younger son James greeted
me at the front door with a blue face. It wasn’t that he had used
his face as a Magic Marker canvas. It wasn’t that he’d eaten a cupcake
with blue icing, resulting in blue smudges around the mouth. It was
that he’d been on a field trip to the park and had his face painted
as Blue, of Blues Clues fame. It looked really cute, but it can be
disconcerting to get home and find your second-born looking like a
goofy psychadelic blue dog.
About half an hour later, James got tired of having a blue face, and
he asked to wipe it clean for him. I checked on George, who was running
around in the back yard, and then, armed with a wet cloth and a four-year-old,
I sat on the couch. I’d gotten about halfway through the clean-up
job - meaning that James now looked even weirder than he had to begin
with - when I heard a shrill scream coming from outside.
Seconds later, George came tearing into the house and launched himself
onto the couch, still screaming. I was suitably alarmed. My husband
flew out into the back yard to make sure there were no psychopaths
lurking there, and I started checking my son for blood and broken
bones. Initially I didn’t see anything wrong, and the only indication
of a problem was George’s ear-splitting screaming and frantic hand-flapping.
I tried to ask him what was wrong, but I didn’t really expect an answer
out of him. Child with autism, limited verbal skills at the best of
times, and in an absolute state - talking was not going to happen.
Suddenly he started scratching his legs frantically, almost manically.
He scratched so hard that he actually drew blood. That’s when I saw
the bee stings - two of them, one on each leg. His first bee stings
- no wonder the poor child was so upset. I’ve tried to teach him basic
safety, of course, but I’ve focused on things that posed an immediate
threat. Crossing the road without looking. Touching a hot stove. Stranger
danger. Internet safety. Somehow, the subject of bee stings has never
really been a priority. And so, in his understanding, he was playing
outside and suddenly experienced unexplained pain in both legs. Add
to that the physical hypersensitivity that is part and parcel of his
autism, and we have a picture that is not at all pretty.
I did the same thing I always do when George is freaked out about
something. I opened my arms and wrapped George in the biggest hug
I could. My heart twists when either of my kids is in pain, and sometimes
a hug is the only thing that will help them. In the case of George,
the deep pressure of a hug is physically soothing. It makes him feel
grounded and secure; it helps the panic abate.
Little by little, the screams got softer and then petered out. The
crying was gradually replaced with quietness punctuated by an occasional
sniffle. George was still trying to scratch his legs, so I didn’t
release my hold on him. A bottle of anti-itch lotion appeared from
somewhere. I applied it, which involved a whole new struggle. In the
meantime, James, who had initially been a bit put out by the abrupt
shift in attention, declared that he was the doctor and he would take
care of George. He’s very sweet that way, James is. When George is
upset, he always wants an active part in caring for his brother.
Later in the evening, when relative calm had returned to the household,
I was moving around the kitchen in a bit of a trance, preparing dinner
and lunches for the following day. I was startled out of my reverie
by a loud clatter-bang-bash-shriek coming from the direction of the
stairs. Initially I thought one of the kids had accidentally dropped
something down the stairs. It wouldn’t be the first time: on many
occasions, we have discovered that Lego or Thomas the Train characters
make a very loud noise when dropped down a set of hardwood stairs.
This time, however, the howls of outrage were my first clue that something
It was James. He had tried to bring down the stairs, in one go, Lightning
McQueen, Doc Hudson, Mack, Sally, Mater, the Sheriff, Fillmore, and
the Dinoco helicopter (anyone with a son under the age of ten will
know who these are and what James’ current obsession is). Because
he was carrying so much stuff, he was not able to hold the handrail,
and because he was wearing socks, he slipped on the hardwood.
At the end of the day, both of my boys were fine. George wasn’t allergic
to bees and James didn’t have any broken bones. The only real casualties
- apart from the bees that died while stinging George - were my nerves
and my blood pressure.
On This Article
Lady Baltimore, my sister, coined an expression that I never appreciated
as much as I learned to recently. "Mission creep" describes
that situation we all know where a small project turns into a big, fat,
expensive free for all. Well, let’s rephrase that. It turns into an
all credit card paid disaster.
Our travail started before the said Lady Baltimore and my other sister,
San Antonia came for a visit a couple weeks ago. Mom and I have lived
here with our 3 dogs since my dad died. Our bathrooms have gotten out
of style, since we haven’t done anything to update them since our tornado
36 years ago. There is a tendency for we lazy cheap types to be content
as long as the toilet flushes and the bathtub fills on command.
However, although both of my out of state sisters have visited here
a number of times since mother nature’s little temper tantrum, Mom decided
that things should be cleaned up before their next arrival. We were
going to hire Ma and Pa Kettle to wash walls and do a little painting,
and call it a day.
Enter, my other two sisters, Chicagoann and Salianapolis, who are the
least fashion challenged people I know, and who felt we were due a new
do. The wall paper I asked Pa to glue down was torn out. The floor I
hoped they would mop and wax before the big arrival has been replaced.
Our kitchen got painted, and the whole house was in an uproar.
I can’t complain. Okay, I can, and this wouldn’t be much of an entry
if I didn’t. They did the labor for us, and it looks modern and pretty
now that they are done. I am happy to have the "new and improved"
facilities, and truly appreciate their efforts on Mom’s and my behalf.
It’s just that the toilet was moved from its usual position. I wasn’t
aware of its temporary removal, and being a creature of habit, was paying
it a visit when my brother-in-law grabbed me from behind.
"Sorry, Lou," he said. "You can’t go in there. You might
fall into a big hole."
Fortunately, he didn’t scare me enough to spare me the trip, and I managed
to conduct my business in the other bathroom without undo humiliation.
I was particularly pleased when the whole miserable project was completed.
I just don’t want to visit the crawl space, especially not like that.
On This Article
Uses For WD-40
and cleans chalkboards.
These days I’m going for quality not quantity.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it!
Next opening line…
There was a young fellow named Ray…
Here’s a great new rhyming/composition tool. http://www.writerhymes.com/
There’s also a great rhyming dictionary at http://www.rhymezone.com/
Limerick rules. http://freespace.virgin.net/merrick.sheldon/limerickrules.htm
was a young fellow named Price
Who enjoyed many a vice
He drank and he drugged
Many women he hugged
That’s how he ended up covered in lice. - Bonnie
was a young fellow named Price
Who made a collection of vice
Many people undone
Temptation had thus won
But Price thought it was rather nice - Maria in Illinois
a young fellow named Price
who the girls tried to entice
but he really wasn’t very nice
you see he worked for vice
and caught the girls once or twice
using his radar device - dEE
a young fellow named Price
Who dabbled in all sorts of vice
He had virgins and boys
And mechanical toys
And on Monday’s he dabbled in mice! - Author Unknown
I started off so confused
by life that I assumed that nobody would deliberately lie and make
things even harder to figure out. I never get anywhere on those puzzles
about situations where some parties are known to lie. A few times
I did blurt out a social fib, but don’t know if I was convincing.
People I trusted have had an easy time lying to me. I’ve given some
people, and their philosophy, decades of the benefit of the doubt
before giving up on them resolving some obvious inconsistencies.
Now, I see so much lying that I’m starting to call us Homo Deceptivus.
We are not the knowing monkeys, but the deluded ones, in a swamp of
illusion and self-delusion.
TV sure hasn’t helped people to pursue critical thinking. With the
press, one must read very carefully and widely to separate the news
from the spin. Overall, I find lies easiest to detect on-line, because
reading gives one time to reflect on any inconsistencies, and options
to check on them. Some sources send out occasional corrections, and
I tend to believe those more, as we all have some blind spots. - Bob
of the North
I’m a lawyer, so,
of course, I never lie. - Lucille
[Lucille, jokes belong in your column dear!]
Patti says: I don’t know
if it is still discernible, but the "He/She is busy right now,
can I take a message?" is slipping out a bit easier so hopefully
no one knows I’m lying.
asks: Why not tell the truth? "I need to take a message from
you on this matter." as an example.
Patti says: Does all this lying make us just less trusting?
Carol responds: Of course it does! Consider how much less we are trusting
of our government, product labels, Priests…
As an aside, post this or not, but Patti you had better get on the
fact that your son "is an excellent liar." Good grief, he
may run for President one day. Carol T
Re: Govmint Names
has done just fine giving all their little brouhaha’s cutesy names–they
don’t really want or need our help! If we actually know what is going
on because something is called by it’s right name, we would probably
not want it going on. Duh!
your dog sounds like our girlie–a Lab, of course–who would roll
in anything smelly she could find! - Ruth in WA
Years ago my mother’s
side of our family got together quite frequently, using my Maternal
Grandmother’s place as a gathering point. Relatives were close by
in a local city, and she lived out in the country, so especially in
the summer it was not uncommon to have the city cousins come out for
a visit. It was a process that has its benefits seen in our continued
friendships, now carried on over the Internet.
Attendance has indeed dropped off for us, as most of the elders have
passed, and physical mobility is greatly limited for some of the others.
How I miss those times. - Carol T
[I missed this comment last time. Sorry
Bob, honey, the
Dust Bowl wasn’t caused just by weather changes. It was a combination
of poor farming practices and greed coupled with the weather that
caused that little fiasco. I see the same combination of circumstances
going on today, the poor economy forcing farmers to try and plant
as much land as possible for a profit, weather hitting some of it’s
occasional swings, loss of wind barriers in areas where it was planted
to prevent erosion, planting of improper crops in areas that can’t
support them without a great deal of intervention. It wouldn’t surprise
me if we don’t have another dust bowl in the next ten years. - Ruth
in WA (formerly of the dust bowl state of Oklahoma)
Tesser sent me this video link. You really
have to watch till the end. Either somebody played a joke on
Lawrence Welk or everyone on the staff was totally clueless!
with Lawrence Welk
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