Fiction slithers into the landscape

I have just finished reading this tentacled book in which all manner of "squiddity" occurs

and now find myself seeing portents and signs everywhere.

Where are the snows of yesteryear? In my albums, of course.

When it snows what do I do? Run out and take pictures of snow, of course. It's just so decorative.
It doesn't matter that I also took pictures of snow last year...

and the year before.

In fact I have hundreds of snow pictures.

Some show familiar places looking unfamiliar in snow.

Or looking especially picturesque in snow.

I keep trying to get a really good snow picture.
I realize that this impulse to photograph snow is probably inherited.
My Dad took snow pictures too.

Here's one he took of me in Charleston in 1950 in the snow.
He wasn't the only one.
Here's snow that his sister photographed in 1961 in Louisville.

And here's a picture his father took of snowfall from around 1939.

I look out the window at the still lingering twentieth snow of this overly snowy winter.

I think: all the snow in all those pictures is long melted. Only the image remains.

I put away the camera.

This too shall melt, I say.

Pieces in place

If it is January, it is time for the traditional jigsaw puzzle.

Each year we have a new one.

Granddad has been working on this year's puzzle for weeks.

He's been somewhat hampered by deteriorating eyesight. Sometimes it helps to have another set of eyes help point out a piece.
Sometimes it helps to have someone watching for pieces that fall on the floor.
But no one can find the last piece.

There is the space where it goes, but all the pieces are used up.Then Granddad stands up and there it is - on the seat of his chair.
He puts it in place -

a successful task completed.

That's a great feeling.

PT at home

Granddad has the best physical therapist ever. She keeps him moving and motivated. Today she had him stepping over obstacles and walking without the walker. He was elated that he could actually do it. I was amazed. This is the same old guy who moans that he has to lie down after putting on each bit of clothes in the morning. Who gets out of breath and seems exhausted from walking from his bed to the bathroom.

I guess we all just need a cheerleader!

Alina (and entourage) visit

I finally got to meet Alina!

All the way from Oxford, England and on her way to PA.

So glad that proud Grandma and Mom came by to share her !

(Also, note the dog on the shirt - some of you may have read on Wren's View about their Boston's visit when Chacko was staying with us.)

All you need is...gloves

Mimi and I took a therapeutic shopping trip to Tivoli for their annual post-holiday sale.

(As an aside, is it really "post-holiday" if all my Christmas cards haven't been sent yet? No, don't think about that - this is a therapeutic shopping trip. Think about clothes. Like I need clothes to stay home and wash the bathroom. No, don't think about that. Mimi says, "Buy what you like and you'll find somewhere to wear it." Great philosophy. Therapeutic.) On the counter are some wonderful half-price gloves lined with "thinuslate" and in great patterns. I kept saying "Oh Mimi, you need these!" as we looked at the red checked ones and the red and black plaid ones.

Then I tried on a pair. Soft. Warm. I am totally taken with the brown and white plaid.
Did I mention they were half-price?

Yes! This is just what I needed!

I admire them all the way home.

I guess that car honking behind me is trying to say they admire them too.

Very therapeutic.

I'm sure the matching scarf would be therapeutic too. Just saying.

Granddad's new wheels

It's like getting a new car. Everything is shiny and clean. We love the upholstery.

Granddad tries out the acceleration.
It has three modes: back, brake, and creep.
"Where's the motor?" Granddad wants to know.
"Broooom, vrooom" I say.
Now he wants to ride everywhere.
Mobility is wonderful.

Not much of a ride

Saturday afternoon the temperature soared to 12 degrees F.

It was maybe not the best time to go out to the barn.

But it was the time I had.

My friend and trainer picked me up in her 4-wheel drive truck so that we could get up the driveway to the stables. Then she rode Scotty for a while to "warm him up".
They got nice and warm moving around the arena.
I sat on the cold hard bench and got colder and colder.
By the time I got on the horse I couldn't feel my thumbs or toes.
Also I hadn't ridden for about three months.
There are muscles that should be involved that just weren't there anymore.
Scotty took full advantage of the situation to misbehave.
I didn't stay on long.
No matter, it was great to get out and admire my handsome fellow anyway.

Warm me up

Baby, it's cold outside.

We need something to warm us up.

How about some fresh-baked bread?

And a little cheese - French cheese to go with the bread.

This calls for some French onion soup...

ummm

Why the soup is French?

That would be due to the Cognac flavoring it.

Come to think of it, we could have a little Cognac too.

It's very warming.

The Traditional Last Shot

Just as people are ready to leave I call "Wait! Wait!" I want to take one last picture before you go.
So here are the Bloomingtonauts last week, ready to drive off to the unusually chilly South.
You know, I have quite a collection of these goodbye pictures. Maybe I'll make an album...

Hand cream Ancient Egyptians may have used still good today!

We are beginning yet another round of treating Granddad for a C-dif infection.

This involves a LOT of hand-washing.

With soap.

(It is a mystery to me how anyone involved in medical care manages to keep their hands from drying out and flaking off with all the constant hand washing.)

I am going through a ton of hand lotion, which I no sooner put on than I wash it off again.
Fortunately I have lots of hand lotion which has been sitting around for years.

By years I mean decades.

I am pulling out bottles from the back of the cabinet.

Like this one:

Not a contemporary design.

I begin some archaeological analysis.

We can date the design to 1988.

The sticker shows it was bought at Phar-mor (which went bankrupt around 2001 I think).

Phar-mor was an anchor store in the Huntington Mall.
My mother had very dry skin and we were always trying to give her lotions and creams to help with it. Some she liked and used up and others were so full that after she died I brought them home so they wouldn't go to waste.

I'm guessing that this was a present to her 23 years ago...and you know what?

It is still pretty soothing.

And after I use this up, I'll bet there are even older lotions waiting!

Working our brains for fun

Contemplating









considering









manipulating











playing...

an evening of fun to begin the new year.