70 Years Ago

Remembering my uncles Jim and Joe

And so it goes.

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Kittens, Ponies & Rainbows

As the old song goes, “Been Down So Long, It Looks Like Up to Me!”

Blood work depressingly disappointing, but no transfusion last week. Can’t figure that out and too tired to attempt second-guessing the oncologist.

Been feeling like I was smacked over the head with a bag of stones. No energy, No appetite.  Just an all round wretched feeling of pain, loneliness, and despair. Sadness is sometimes overwhelming. Card readings have been of a cautious nature; not at all cheerful or up-lifting. Just get through, that’s all.  Just get through

Spent all weekend in bed reading and nursing lower back pain trying to force myself to eat something of substance. I managed hard cooked eggs with toast, a bit of cheese and crackers. A fruit cup and jello at various times.    The tastebuds are dead - that means no sense of smell, either - and no real hunger pangs to speak of.  It’s a caution all round.                  

Had a reaction to the pain killers where I was unable to urinate for almost 6 hours. The cause - I had taken 2 rather than 1. (though the instructions do say 1 or 2 depending on pain level.) This was eventually alleviated by downing 3 Benadryl tablets and waiting it out. The inflammation finally subsided and I was a peeing fool by midnight.  Much relieved, in more ways than you’ll ever know. 

Implant surgery is tentatively set for tomorrow,  Tuesday, April 22 at 6 am. No food or drink after midnight tonight. With my luck I’ll awaken with a ravenous appetite in the morning and be chewing on my shirt sleeve by the time I get into pre-op anesthetic care. Just another story of my life.

Friend and co-worker, Jeffrey will be my transportation to and from the hospital. Very kind and thoughtful of him and I don’t feel so bad knowing that he’s an early riser as I am, and he’s not working until later in the day.

So far, my body seems to be handling the Chemo well.  No major changes or violent reactions that I can point to and that’s a relief all by itself.

Sister news isn’t all that great.  She had a bit of a relapse on Saturday afternoon that almost sent her back on the ventilator.  Knowing the Aging Bayou Goddess as I do, I can say that she probably tried to do more than she was supposed to do - you know,  just to see if she could do it and prove the nurses wrong - only to get smacked down on her butt unable to breathe thanks to the chest pain.   Some people never grow up.  

We talked yesterday for about 15 minutes (not to keep her talking too long) and her manner was very contrite by then. No need to say “we told you so”  she knew it all too well. The incident put a good scare into her, so I think all will go smoothly for a while, but not long enough. That would take an elephant tranquilizer gun, to be sure.

There are refilled prescriptions to pick up today, though I hate to get dressed and leave the comfort of the apartment and the bed.  It must be done however, since I have no idea if I will feel up to running errands for a few days after the surgery. I don’t know what to expect of the surgery or how long the healing process will be.  I used to heal very quickly, but with all the drugs in my system not sure how they will hinder that process.

Whatever.  It is what it is.

And so it goes.

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Am I Glowing Yet?

Sound the Crumpets! I am officially a Chemotherapy patient.  Don’t clap, throw nickels.  Please! If you need a night light, I am for hire!

Finally got the questions answered by a different cancer center operative yesterday afternoon and started the new med right away.  I was told the voluminous pages of warnings are mostly scare tactics to force people to “respect” the medicine.  Really?  Funny, that.  All it did was scare the ever-loving crap out of me.  I mean, just one look at that bio-hazard emblem on the plastic zip bag containing the bottle of tablets is enough to set off a red alert in anyone’s head.

OK, that’s done and I am on the yellow brick road to who-knows-where.  But, I’m on the road. A new adventure everyday, right?

The sister made it through the first surgery OK, but the second one had to be cancelled.  They ran into another few snags that would have had that surgeon in her upper body for another 6 to 8 hours.  The collective opinion was that she would be at more risk than originally thought.  They may decide to re-examine her case at a later time, but I don’t think she’ll go for it any time soon.

She’ll be on the ventilator for about 48 hours as they re-inflate her lungs and monitor the results of the most important part of the surgical procedure. My niece called thrice to update me. By the third call she was quite subdued having seen her mother in the CICU out cold, pale blue and terrifyingly cold in that room full of bells, whistles, lights and switches.

The niece wasn’t allowed to stay long, but swears that my sister knew her when she held her hand for a few minutes, before being run out of the place. 

I slept better than I thought I would. The stress of waiting for sister news coupled with the stress of my own situation both being somewhat resolved gave me a little peace as I took the evening meds and prepped for bed.

Off to the Center this morning for the weekly labs and hoping my numbers continue to rise to the plus side. Maybe I won’t require transfusing again tomorrow, which would be nice, but we shall see.

As I said, I’ve felt fairly well this past week and hope the Chemo doesn’t fuck up the feeling.

And so it goes.

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June is Bustin’ Out in April

Wait, wait! That’s not how the song goes.

It’s downright hot today. Jumped up to about 80’ by midday and hasn’t begun to drop yet. Spent a low-key day today.  A little fatigue set in, maybe because of all the strenuous (?) activity yesterday.  

The sister called and talked about everything and nothing for almost an hour. She was especially chatty, gushing about the hospital and her medical team - she’ll be in the massive complex that is Touro Infirmary Hospital.  I think it was more for my benefit than hers;  her way of assuring me that she is in good hands. If she’s in Touro, I know that already. She goes in for prep on Tuesday afternoon, surgery scheduled for Wednesday morning.

Her oldest daughter will be staying with her through the surgery and at least part of the recovery. When she has to return to her home, there will be a visiting nurse staff with the sister 12 hours daily.  By that time, (hopefully) 12 hours should be more than enough to keep her comfortable.

My greatest fear, knowing my ornery sister as I do, is that she’ll push herself to do more, thinking that in some way that will make her heal faster. If it were up to me, I’d strap her down, slide a bedpan under her butt and leave her alone for those 3 hours of each off-shift until she got the message.  They don’t call me Nurse Diesel for nothing!

But, she will do whatever the hell she wants to do, and no one can change that. There will be a lot of yelling and screaming between her and my niece; I can almost hear it now.  Sigh!

Tomorrow afternoon I have an appointment with the surgeon who will schedule the PICC implant surgery. PICC = peripherally inserted central catheter.

(Sassy-Bear had one recently and not to be outdone, I just needed one, too. Although his was temporary, sad to say that mine will be pretty much permanent.)

I’m hoping the doctor can do the surgery before I return for Labs on Thursday and another transfusion day on Friday.  It will make life easier for the nurses - and me! No more poking, no more hit or miss with veins.  Just an always accessible port for any and all seasons and reasons. 

One more step to becoming a true Cyborg. There will be this plastic (or nylon) disc-shaped entry point on the upper left of my chest.  Skin will soon grow over it making it barely visible - and certainly less painful for all concerned. 

Anyway.

I’m frustrated by the fact that the black ink cartridge in the new inkjet printer is already spent.  In operation only three months and it’s empty.  Whether it is truly empty or dried up, there is no way of knowing. This will never do. I ordered a replacement as I also ordered the new laser printer which I will use for most everything from now on. 

From my experience, Inkjets are prone to many problems. First of all they are liquid, wet, and are applied while wet.   They can be runny. The prints are air-dried and can take longer depending on the environment. The freshly printed pages are moist to the touch.

Toner is a dry powder, goes on dry and is heated to seal the image to the paper.  Immediately and permanently sealed. Toner doesn’t dry out, age, or clump.  One cartridge assembly usually lasts me about 1.5 to 2 years - depending on usage.

The toner cartridge for the new printer is even less expensive than the one used in the older one that died. It will cost about $56.00.  The replacement inkjet cartridge will cost about $15.00.  $56.00 = 1.5 years, vs $15.00 = 3 months ($60.00 average per year).  It’s just simple math. Enough said.

I’ll keep the Inkjet printer for the scanner option, at least for now. I may chuck the whole affair when the other inks dry up and replace it with my flatbed scanner - which, had I known better, would have done in the first place and saved all this aggravation. Still, a lesson learned. While technology has moved forward, the business of inkjet printing has remained in the middle ages. Not worth the investment.  There, I said it…

Hey, Epson!  Sue me. 

OK! Here’s my first entry into the Sunday Selfie, or Selfie Sunday (whatever it’s called) meme. It was actually taken yesterday and the only reason for the jacket is the wind.  I know, it’s usually windy as the ocean, but I haven’t always been immune-compromised. So, it is what it is. 

Laugh all you want. I do that every morning in front of the mirror as I attempt to shave. There were always few pictures of myself (I was the photographer, after all) but there are even fewer now since the destruction from my previous life and the flooding by Katrina.

And so it goes.

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Random Thoughts & Checking Off Lists

The innards have finally settled down pretty much after the bout with the side effects from the Augmentin. The stomach is still a bit queasy at times and I’m not eating much solid foods, but well, “every day in every way”  as the saying goes…

Organizing the new desk I’ve decided that I need to go back to a laser printer for the crisp, clean copies I am used to. I don’t trust inks to be permanent - they still run when wet - anything I need to print must be either filed here or sent to the hospital for filing.  Laser toner once heated binds to the paper permanently.

I’ll use some of the tax refund for the purchase. $100.00 will cover this small footprint job at right (includes extra toner cartridge) which will fit snuggly on the "Z" shelf next to the desk. Since the Epson is my MAC scanner, a good and fast printer is all I need. Toner cartridges have dropped in price, too.  I wonder if the price drop has to do with the increased popularity of the inkjet printers. Dunno, and don’t care. I’ll take the lower price and better quality. Maybe fools will catch on later.

I’ve discovered that I am up to my gonads in wires and chargers associated with all the ‘wireless’ devices accumulated over the years. Though the chargers belonging to the old cell phones went with those phones to their new home via the State Police program for battered women, I still have more than enough to contend with. There are also old mice and keyboards from the PC days that I keep trying to give away but no one seems to want.

Years ago, Ron - the dear gossip - at Retired in Delaware, insisted that I purchase a web camera so we could video chat via Skype.  So I bought one.

Why?  I don’t know.  We lived about a half mile from one another, so I gathered it was just a fun toy he wanted to play with.  Then the old PC died and the old web camera wasn’t compatible with the new one.  Ron’s Skyping calls had dwindled by then, but I bought a newer web camera just to have it handy.  A wasted investment.

A year later Ron made the jump to the MAC and that was the end of Skype. So, there are 2 Logitech webcams floating around this place, too. Now that I have the MAC iPad, iPhone, and iPod, they are gathering dust and sometimes under foot at the most inconvenient times. Yes, now I have FaceTime, which is more sophisticated than Skype ever was, not that it matters.  

Now that I think of it, I wonder if the newest web camera could be used with the MINI…my monitor isn’t an Apple, therefore has no builtin camera.  I’m wondering if I could plug the camera into a USB port, check for new drivers and see what happens.  Seems a waste to throw the thing away. 

There are 3 stand microphones from the old (?) days of early voice recognition, which again, are of no use any longer. I could go on and on, but it's making me depressed so I'll stop for now.  Anyway, you get the idea.

The old PC is waiting for Eddie to return from Romania to remove my personal files and photos from the HD before chucking it, or repairing it for someone else. Yes, it's been sitting by the front door for over a month (where else can I put it?) and I can't wait for his return next week before Easter.  

When I have the strength and energy the old Laser Printer needs to go to the tech & electronics recycle center, which is not nearby anymore.

Anyway…I’ve gotta get rid of all this stuff!!?!!

I’ve organized all the relevant cords, cables, wires, and chargers with the devices I use today; they sit neatly wrapped and labelled in two covered, plastic containers on a shelf where all such things live. Nice and clean.  Though these items too, seem to multiply for some unknown reason.  Sigh!

Got a call from the Oncologist’s office acknowledging that I discontinued the Augmentin over the weekend and letting me know the doctor will be looking into a replacement.  They also told me that they called a prescription for an antidepressant, which I can pick up either this afternoon or tomorrow.  

I guess that may be in response to my complaints of short-temper while on the Prednisone, which may be carried over to the Danazol - but I haven’t detected increased agitation since I made the change.  Don’t know what the new drug is, so I can’t look it up, but I’ll find out soon enough.

I may have mentioned this before, but you know a year ago I was only on ONE prescription medication - for the high blood pressure.  Now I am washing down 9; some are taken more than once daily. This new antidepressant will bring that total to an even 10.  

Say, do I get some kind of award for that?  New washer and dryer? Trip to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico?  Hoboken, NJ?  Hey, I ain’t fussy.

The sister’s birthday is tomorrow so I caught her this morning by phone before she had the chance to leave the apartment.  She was happy for the call, but remains quite scared about the open heart surgery coming up next week.  Can’t say I blame her, but she’s strong, asked lots of questions, and her medical team has been available for anything she needs going into this last week prior to the operation. They’ve covered every inch of what will be her physical domain during recovery and there’s no more they can do, except be there for moral support.  Me too.

I really need to put some solid food into my system today, but nothing sounds interesting or the least bit appetizing.  I’ve down the last yogurt and I am tired of canned fruits.  Maybe something will jump out at me when I do the shopping tomorrow.  Trouble is, I can feel myself getting weaker every day.  

That said, I don’t think I’ll be driving to the drug store for the new prescription today.  Just not up to it, is all.  

And so it goes.

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Thin Mints & Wiggly Veins

Instead of "capped teeth & caesar salad" - never mind, it's a Lloyd Webber Thing. Woke up with this song in my head. Damn these morning ear worms!!! Anyway, it's the first obvious title that came to mind. Deal with it. And humor me, OK?  

Arrived at the Center yesterday morning at 7:15 am, and the place was already jumping. Lots of people arriving for Chemo treatments, some in better moods than others, especially for such an early hour. 

When one of the nurses from the Infusion Dept. came to escort me back to my section for transfusion, she surprised me with a bear hug and a box of Thin Mint Girl Scout Cookies.  The story goes that she found a few little girls standing at a small table in front of some store, in the freezing cold, and she thought of me.  So she bought a box as a gift. What a thoughtful surprise. I tried to pay her but she wouldn't accept my nasty cash. 

There was a large strip of surgical tape wrapped around the sealed box with my name printed on it in big black magic marker letters. She made sure that no one was going to eat those cookies. Every nurse in the section came up to tell me how lucky I was to find the box still intact. Seems they all love chocolate and Thin Mints, too. 

I offered to open the box and share, but they would have none of that.  Those cookies were special - they were mine. Indeed, I did feel special.

Getting down to the blood business at hand, two nurses began to prep me by attempting to open a port in one of my arms.  I have two arms, BTW. That's when the problems began. I have been told I have "great" veins; easy to see and so convenient to access for transfusing. However, with the continued weight loss, it seems the veins have a tendency to wriggle around, making it difficult to open a port. 

After 6 punctures and 3 blown veins, one was finally found to be stable and the access point was opened. By this time I had 6 holes in my arms, covered in gauze and medical tape. The spots where the 3 veins had blown were swelling, and purple - though not painful. These would have to be watched carefully for any leaking as the blood entered my body.  The pressure caused by the incoming blood flowing rarely results in this effect, (but it happens)  which is not pretty, and fairly uncomfortable. 

This stress coupled to the effect of the Benadryl injection meant there would be no reading while I sat there for 6+ hours. So I whipped out the earbuds and listened to music, instead. This turned out to be a mixed blessing. I was able to nod off at times, but still had to be aware of any change in the taped up wounds.  

One outlet began to leak, so the flow was reduced to limit  the pressure, which seemed to help. All in all, the dressings had to be changed twice throughout the day. A day made half again as long as it should because of the slower rate of blood transferred each hour. I was held captive for nine hours rather than the usual six.  Yep, another full day shot to hell.

Of course, as a human pin cushion side-show freak now, I am not allowed to bathe or shower for 48 hours. To shave, I need to wear long sleeves and medical gloves to protect the hands and arms from getting wet and possibly infected. 

Are we having fun, yet? 

Between the vertigo, the effects of the Benadryl, and the Lasix making me pee my brains out every few minutes, I somehow managed to drive home, hobble up the stairs, and belly-flop onto the bed. 

That's where I woke an hour later, feeling suddenly hungry and the urgent need to pee, yet again. Being in no condition to stand and cook a meal, I opted for sour dough toast washed down with cantaloupe before heading back to bed. 

Woke up at 3 am today feeling weak but rested. Though spring-like weather is on the agenda today, I have no plans to leave the apartment.

I've made more lists as I enjoyed breakfast and coffee.  Two coffees, actually. My mind is full of ideas, but I don't have the requisite energy, or even enthusiasm to follow through on any of them.

Weekly blood work yields little positive change.  The CBC remains  low, though the Neutrophil count is back up in normal ranges, probably due to the steroid I've been on for 3 weeks now. But that seems the only step forward - the relief from having to wear the damned medical mask in public all the time. 

I have to let people know that this is what is happening, that it isn't just because I'm lazy or lethargic.  Heaven knows, I've had enough peaceful, down time in the past few weeks and it's not for my emotional well-being. 

Finally talked with the sister.  She's prepping for open heart surgery. She's scheduled in two weeks and was given a tour of the ICU where she will spend her recovery time. I could tell she was apprehensive, but she asked the medical team all the important questions and feels resigned to what's to come. The call cheered us both up and after a half hour we were in our usual laughing mode and feeling better for the conversation and support. Of course, she wants to help me as I want to be there for her.  Ain't gonna happen. 

Of course, I didn't mention that when the vertigo is really bad, I'm light-headed from the inability to gather full lungs of air, my eyes won't focus to read, and I cannot concentrate on a youtube video, I feel as if I'm just hanging around waiting to die. 

On that cheery note I will just say, it is what it is.

And so it goes.

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"Show Your Joe" Oh, Tinkerbell!

If you remember how the K-Mart "Ship Your Pants" ad got the wingers' panties in a wad, just wait til you see what happens to them this time around.  Jingle Bells!  Jingle Balls! And, a bit of Twerk-it, baby!  I'm going to get me some Joe Boxer!

Ho-Ho-Ho.  And enjoy the season.



Made my day.

More later.
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Kristallnacht - 75 Years Ago

I had a friend in NYC; a good Jewish son who took care and watched over his elderly parents. They maintained their own apartment in Kew Gardens, Queens.  A newly built (mid-60s) high-rise with a convenient parking garage in the basement, a safe place for tenant's automobiles off the streets. 

My friend and I used to meet at least once weekly for lunch or Happy Hour after work. These meetings usually preceded his weekly trip to Queens for a dinner visit with the parents. 

At one point it became more HH than lunch and I noticed he would become sullen and withdrawn after a few drinks.  Then one night after a little too much HH, he was too drunk to deal with the parents, and asked me to have dinner with him, he needed to share something with me.

That night I learned that he had been begging his parents to give up their old car, they were in their 70s and didn't drive much anyway.  But they steadfastly refused to even think about such a thing, no matter how rational the arguments regarding their age, the extra expense of insurance, the parking space, etc.  

It turned out that on a previous visit his father became so upset by the subject being brought up yet again, that he began to shake and cry. Finally, he blurted out "If we don't have the car what will we do if they come for us again?" Dinner was forgotten as his parents told him of their escape (no easy feat by 1938) from Nazi Germany just weeks after Kristallnacht. They had to beg, borrow, steal, and ultimately leave everything behind.  They made it to Spain.  There they found passage to the US.  

They arrived with nothing, worked hard and built a life. Always with fear in the back of their minds. No news of family members who, for whatever reason, stayed behind.  They never told their only son anything until that night. To say we were both a wreck after relating this tale would be a vast understatement. I thanked him for sharing this horrible story with me as we finished our second bottle of wine. We agreed that the automobile issue would never be brought up again.  That was also the last time the episode was ever mentioned, by his parents or between us.  Just thought I'd share.

On the night of Nov. 9, 1938, gangs of Nazis attacked Jewish businesses and religious sites around Germany, destroying thousands of stores and synagogues. The violence would continue for nearly two days, and the Nazis chose to name it Kristallnacht or crystal night -- symbolizing the final shattering of Jewish existence in Germany. 

Pretext for the spree of violence was the shooting of German diplomat Ernst vom Rath by a Polish-Jewish student, Herschel Grynszpan, on Nov.7. When the news of vom Rath's death reached Nazi headquarters in Berlin, the event was used to urge members to take to the streets and attack Jewish sites. 

By the end of Nov. 10, 7,000 Jewish businesses would be destroyed, 900 synagogues were torched, more than 90 people were killed and some 30,000 Jewish men were
deported, PBS notes.

Here's what President Obama had to say:

Statement by the President on the 75th Anniversary of Kristallnacht 
I join millions of people in the United States and around the world in marking the 75th anniversary of the tragedy of Kristallnacht – “the Night of Broken Glass.” On November 9 and 10, 1938, Nazi paramilitaries marched under the cover of darkness throughout the towns and villages of Germany and Austria smashing Jewish storefronts, arresting Jewish men en masse, ransacking Jewish homes, burning books and littering the streets with the parchment of sacred Judaic texts. Throughout the two-day wave of violence, hundreds of synagogues and thousands of businesses owned by Jews were destroyed or damaged. At least 91 Jews were killed, while another 30,000 were sent to concentration camps. 

Kristallnacht foreshadowed the systematic slaughter of six million Jews and millions of other innocent victims. Seventy-five years later, Kristallnacht now signifies the tragic consequences of silence in the face of unmitigated hatred. 
As we mark this anniversary, let us act in keeping with the lessons of that dark night by speaking out against anti-Semitism and intolerance, standing up to indifference, and re-committing ourselves to combatting prejudice and persecution wherever it exists. In so doing, we honor the memories of those killed and reaffirm that timeless call: “Never Again.” 
http://www.whitehouse.gov/the-press-office/2013/11/08/statement-president-75th-anniversary-kristallnacht

Click the embedded links above then take a look at photos from those fateful days HERE.

And so it goes.

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"Home" a short film about Katrina

By Matt Faust.  part of the Tribeca Film Festival 'shorts' offerings. It's a poignant live/animated film using photos and family films to reveal his HOME; what it was and what happened to it. I won't embed  it here, I believe it should be viewed at YT to boost his numbers.

Here is what Matt writes in the YT description:

A few months after I finished chemotherapy for an extremely rare cancer, Hurricane Katrina hit and my childhood home was destroyed. With ideas about what is really important in life and what makes a home special at the forefront of my mind, I was compelled to record and share these thoughts through what would become my first film, Home. I was inspired both by what came to mind when I returned to my destroyed post-Katrina home and by what I saw when I returned to my pre-Katrina home in my dreams. The result, I hope, is something that is relatable, therapeutic, informative, and encouraging to everyone whether you've experienced a sudden loss like Katrina or not. I hope it can help us all to remember and honor what we've lost, but more importantly, to appreciate what we still have.

Thanks for watching. Feel free to contact me.- Matt

Go and watch HOME. Now!

And so it goes.
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Family Visit Caturday

Yeah, we've all had one in our lives, haven't we?

More later.
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Blackout 1965 - Hurricane Sandy 2012: Baby-Makers

Walking to work this morning, as I crossed the Avenue I noticed there was a long line to get into the Bakery.

That in itself wouldn't be unusual for any morning in summer.  What made this queue different was that there were 8 very pregnant women in that line all standing so I could see their profile.  A few had toddlers in strollers which made the image even more amazing.  Many looked like they just might explode if their cravings weren't satisfied  - immediately.  I mean, these gals were HUGE!

I would've taken a quick picture, but I didn't want to embarrass them, or myself.

The Bake Shoppe is the (oldest and) only family bakery in town offering delicious pastries, cakes, croissants, donuts, and muffins.  The only other place in town is Dunkin' Donuts in the beach block and though many tourists are prone to go with what they know, the more adventurous tend to give the bakery a chance and they are not disappointed.

When I got to work, I remembered so many others just like those 8 waddling down the avenue, some nearly unable to sit down on a bench.  So, I wondered why all this potential new life should ripen at this time.  Then, I did the math, worked backwards in time,  and realized that Super Hurricane Sandy hit us 8 months ago and hundreds of thousands of homes were without power for days, even weeks.

It reminded me of the east coast blackout in November of 1965 which produced a bumper crop of babies  the following summer, so we ought not be surprised this time around, either.

I recognized one woman straight away, when she arrived for lunch with the hubby, a toddler, and grandmother.  She was wearing a bright multi-colour  top that drew attention to the belly. They (She) ate the most bizarre combination of menu items, and their total bill for the party of 4 came to over $100. - and mind you, no alcohol.  After they left their server noted that by her menu choices and size, the mom-to-be was likely to deliver twins.  This server knows, she has twins of her own.

Cocktail at the ready, I venture forth onto the Intertubes in search of a travel package to meet my upcoming travel needs. Wish me luck.

And so it goes.

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The Weather: Like a Broken Record.**

Yes, I know. It's everywhere, not just in the US, but Atlantic coast beach resorts are whining pretty damned loud. Alas, I suspect these fickle forecasts are going to be the norm rather than exception from here on.  All but the very stupid are pretty much resigned to this fact.

That said, weather didn't keep the vacationers away, certainly not this weekend. Since everyone - no matter where they live - has had similar, bizarre weather, they took it in stride and accepted whatever came. Consider the alternatives...howl at the moon, curse the Red Baron, or kick sand until you break a toe.

If the rain came in early morning, they waited it out until the sun came out, then hit the beach.  And the other way around. Everyone was cool and just ready for a holiday at the beach. That attitude alone, made my life much easier.

The restaurant has been crazy busy, more than usual, and the entire staff has been more than ready for whatever the weather sends us. And it sent us huge bunches of families who cannot begin their holiday without first having lunch and margaritas at Dos Locos. And by "families" I mean ALL  families. Gay men with kids and lesbians with kids are no strangers to the restaurant.  Many of those now parents have been dining with us for years.  Now, we're watching them raise families of their own. As an aside: we are probably the only restaurant in Rehoboth Beach to offer baby changing stations in both the men's and ladies restrooms.  This stuns many people and makes me chuckle when they finally get it.  In fact some restaurants are not at all family friendly, unless the kids are over 10 years old.  Sometimes I envy them, but most of the kids are well behaved and have been socialized in restaurants from an early age.

Had hoped to join a couple of coworkers at a Happy Hour nearby for frog legs and Oysters Rockefeller after my shift but I ran late and missed the opportunity. In fact, I've been pressed into service  a lot lately, which ran me into overtime pay, and that will mostly be gobbled up in taxes, anyway.  Oh well. June is half over already.  Hard to believe.

** Does anyone remember what a "record" was and how it sounded when  there was a small crack in it just enough to cause the phonograph (does anyone remember phonographs?) needle to skip a groove or two and repeat a phrase over and over again?  I doubt it.  Anyway...

And so it goes.
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What a Mother of a Weekend

This town (and most restaurants) rocked this weekend beginning on Friday morning and eventually ending late Sunday night. The restaurant was packed the whole time. We stopped taking reservations for Saturaday and Sunday via phone and Web on Friday at about 3 PM.  It turned into what we expect on a weekend in July or August.  Unbelievable!

Most of the parties were large, family affairs featuring grand-moms, and moms - and a few included great-grand-moms. It was amazing. Of course the locosguys out did themselves by offering every mom a free glass of wine, a house lime margarita, or a dessert.  You'd be amazed (I was) at how these old broads can knock back the booze and remain vertical and coherent.

My favourite story of the weekend involved a reservation for a party of 8 due to arrive at 3 PM Sunday afternoon.  At 10 AM I received a call from the son asking to cancel the reservation because the family had had dinner at the restaurant Saturday night; his mom got plastered and awoke with a screaming hangover Sunday morning.  He was laughing hysterically as he told the story and I began to laugh along with him. His final words were "oh, you wouldn't want to see her today."  Well, at least she had fun and something to remember, although she would probably rather forget it.  Heh!

I am tired from the long hours of those 3 days, but I am off tomorrow.  Wait!  Tomorrow is my only day off as I return on Wednesday to the seasonal schedule of 6 to 7 days at work. I have an awful lot of errands to run and chores to do in one day.  I am already exhausted and I haven't even begun to make the list.  Oy!

And so it goes.
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Is That Really Necessary?

After a lovely day in the 50s yesterday, I woke to a frigid 38' F this morning.  Teeth chattering like castanets as I cranked up the heat to warm the apartment and slid back under the covers.  Later, after a coffee and an egg with sourdough toast, I grabbed my list and made my way downstairs to the car.

The little darlings were arriving at the pre-school downstairs so there was much babbling and malfunctioning of adult brain cells.  As I approached my car a little darling was having a meltdown and while screeching at the very top of his lungs (making my eyes water) he was kicking the driver's side door of my car.  Initially I couldn't believe his mother was just standing by and watching this little scene play itself out.

Furious, I brought my voice down to the most lethal tone and said "stop this, who do you think you are?" Both mom and the brat jumped then froze in place. I asked the mother, "is this your car?" she shook her head.  I said, "no, of course not. You wouldn't allow him to kick your car, now would you?" She said nothing while looking for a way to escape this crazy man.

I turned my attention to the mad child and he stood stock still. I said, "if you want to throw a tantrum, do so in the school, or in your mother's car as she drives you off the edge of a cliff. Now, GET AWAY FROM MY CAR!!! The little darling let out a yelp and promptly wet himself. Mom opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her short, "this is how you raise your child to be a productive member of society  No respect for the property of others? Really? Try harder."

While they stood in front of the school, seemingly unable to move, I got into the car and sped away to run errands. Still angry but feeling satisfied that my little scene may have been a life-changing event, at least for the kid.

When asked if he liked children, W.C. Fields replied, "I do if they are properly cooked."

Chaos and disorder neutralized.  My job is done for today.

And so it goes.
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It's Not There Anymore.

While resting today (alternating between hot and cold compresses) I downloaded Google Earth and paid a visit to my childhood home in New Orleans.  Had no trouble finding the area - it was a pretty unique little enclave of small homes a block from Lake Pontchartrain and the old (now private) airport. The homes once served as housing for military officers during World War II and close to the military facilities on the other side of the Industrial Canal. 

My grandparents purchased their home from the government on June 23, 1945 and I was born on July 23, 1946. I lived in their home from age 5 to 16 when I moved to NYC. (If you click to embiggen and follow the arrow in the image almost directly down, you can just make out the small U-shape of the homes with another street located straight down the center.  A trident of sorts.)

The U is Curtis Drive that begins and ends on Haynes Blvd. Martin Drive was the center street and ended at the corner of our home and the stream that wound into the woods behind our house.  Martin  Drive now continues past the house and continues into the newer neighborhoods that replaced the woods. The area  known as "Little Woods" would later become New Orleans East. I prefer the former title.

I spent many a summer's day in that lake slowly bobbing around in an inner-tube (car tires used air-filled soft rubber tubes in those days, if one was punctured it was usually discarded. They would be patched and given to anyone who wanted one) or using the tube to hold a bushel basket while we caught crabs.

Individual summer camps - houses on pilons that jutted out into the lake - stretched for miles down the Haynes Blvd. coastline.  One such "camp" was owned by an aunt and uncle who lived further into town.  They would spend weekends and a few weeks at the camp, crabbing, fishing, shrimping and cooking up the most amazing fare you could ever imagine.I would spend days there enjoying the lake, birds, and of course, the food.

In my travels via Google Earth I discovered that all the camps are gone. The airport has been completely renovated to accept private planes, even small jets. There is a marina where I used to swim. When I found the little horseshoe shaped enclave I once called home, I zoomed in to get a better view of the homes there.   A few remain abandoned since Katrina, but most have been restored, enlarged and look to be well cared for.  Green lawns and even some trees.

Sadly, my own old home has been replaced by a red brick structure (house?) resembling a bunker or utility station. With windows high off the ground, 2 X 3' rectangles, and offering no view of the surrounding neighborhood, I wonder who would build such a fortress-like thing. Clearly, not "community" minded folks. 

I was saddened by viewing the surrounding neighborhoods that are still washed out and vacant. Schools, churches, even roadways in dis-repair.   All these years later, it is heartbreaking to think that this could be so.

While disturbing on so many levels, it gave me hope for the city and (at least for a while) took my mind off the back pain. I am left with only images, not what I have seen with my own eyes.  That is the next logical step. I need to visit to see for myself.

And so it goes.
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Some World Reaction to the Re-election

This is from the AP via HuffPo:

President Barack Obama's re-election in the United States elicited strong feelings — from optimism to skepticism — around the world. A sampling of global reaction:
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"One of the first things I want to talk to Barack about is how we must do more to try and solve this crisis (in Syria). Above all, congratulations to Barack. I've enjoyed working with him, I think he's a very successful U.S. president and I look forward to working with him in the future."— British Prime Minister David Cameron, on a visit to Syrian refugees on the Jordanian border.
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"Your re-election is a clear choice in favor of an America that is open, unified, completely engaged in the international scene and conscious of the challenges facing our planet: peace, the economy and the environment." — French President Francois Hollande.
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Pope Benedict XVI sent a message to Obama expressing hope that "ideals of liberty and justice, which guided the founders of the U.S.A., may continue to shine on the road ahead for the nation." — Vatican spokesman the Rev. Federico Lombardi.

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"When you were elected in 2008, you inspired the world with a call to take responsibility for the problems we face as global citizens. Since then, you have made earnest efforts to live up to that great hope and trust placed in you by the American public. I believe you have been re-elected now in recognition of that effort." — the Dalai Lama.
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"The bond between Europe and North America, based upon the shared values on which our alliance was founded over 60 years ago, remains as strong, and as important to the preservation of Euro-Atlantic peace and security, as ever. President Obama has demonstrated outstanding leadership in maintaining this vital bond." — NATO Secretary General Anders Fogh Rasmussen.
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"I will continue to work with President Obama to preserve the strategic interests of Israel's citizens." — Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, who has had a strained relationship with the American president over Iran and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.
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"During the last four years when Obama was U.S. president, no breakthrough happened in relations between Iran and the US. At the beginning of his first term the situation was a bit better, but as he went on the relations got much worse, with the sanctions being imposed. So I think the outcome of the elections that was just held will not make any difference for Iran." — Amir Karimi, a resident of the Iranian capital, Tehran.
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"As a mother and as a grandmother who raises boy children, I think that the symbolism of having a black man occupy the highest office is something that can make my children very aspirational to know that this is possible, you know, in their lifetime" — Zindzi Mandela, daughter of former South African President Nelson Mandela.
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"If both parties try to overcome the accumulated distrust and turn over a new leaf, if America comes to realize that it needs to work with Vladimir Putin instead of thinking that it doesn't like the Russia that we live in, then we could achieve results." — Alexei Pushkov, chairman of the Russian Duma's foreign affairs committee, calling for a new start to U.S.-Russia relations.
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"Sandy was a climate change warning. Obama must now take the stage and fulfill the promise of hope the world needs." — Kumi Naidoo, international executive director of Greenpeace.
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The trust that the American people wanted to renew in you will allow the international community, Europe and Italy to benefit from your leadership without interruptions. ... With your confirmation at the White House, Italy knows it can count on a strong and united America." — Italian Premier Mario Monti.
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"I think Obama is a man eminently capable of building bridges between the Democrats and Republicans. And if you look at the challenges ahead for America — bringing down unemployment, getting the economy going again, strengthening the political and trade relationships with Europe and Asia — there are plenty of reasons to do so." — Dutch Prime Minister Mark Rutte.

 Interesting and mostly positive comments; a far cry from what was forecast in 2004 when Dubya went back to the White House.

I am pleased with the election results from around the country and maybe I'll share some thoughts on other races that surprised and made me even happier.  History was made again last night.

And so it goes.
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Hurricane Sandy: Coastal Evacuation Ordered

I have nowhere to go and with a storm this huge is there anywhere to run to that's out of harm's way? I don't think so. This is the latest from our local newspaper, The Cape Gazette:

Gov. Jack Markell has ordered mandatory evacuation of coastal communities in Sussex, Kent and New Castle counties. The evacuation begins at 8 p.m. Saturday, Oct. 27, and is to be complete by 8 p.m. Sunday, Oct. 28.

Everyone within three-quarters of a mile of the ocean and the Delaware Bay is expected to evacuate by 8 p.m. Sunday. Everyone living in low-lying areas or places that have flooded in previous storms is urged to evacuate.

The governor issued a limited state of emergency, which does not include a ban on driving and does not require businesses to close. Officials estimated as many as 50,000 people will evacuate. Suggested routes and other information are expected to be posted at delaware.gov.
A shelter for the Cape Region at Cape Henlopen High School will open at noon Sunday, Oct. 28.

Rehoboth Beach officials say Sea Witch activities planned for Sunday have been cancelled.
Markell urged the public to take the evacuation order seriously. "We are going to be a lot more successful if people listen to these evacuation orders," he said. "It's likely power is going to be lost. The bay communities will almost certainly be cut off. It will not be possible for first responders to evacuate them."

Officials emphasized the storm is very large and slow moving and could dump as much as 10 inches of rain on the Cape Region over the next few days. Heavy rain and winds as high as 60 mph are expected to down trees and power lines; workers will not be able to begin repairing the lines as long as winds exceed 45 mph.

"As wet as the ground is going to be, you could be out of power for a long time," said Director of Delaware Emergency Management Agency Jamie Turner. "I can assure you it's gonna be something a lot of people have never had an opportunity to see in Delaware."

Well, I am sure they are right about that last sentence.

The rest of the story is HERE.

And so it goes.
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Grandma's Hands

Used to make this treat and the recipe must be over 60 years old because my older sister remembers this ice cream. I had to send her the recipe, too.

Disclaimer:  Please keep in mind that this recipe was extracted from a 4' 9" small wonder-woman who never wrote recipes. I had her make the ice cream so I could get an idea of ingredient measurements. Her cupped palms were the only useful measuring spoons, if you get my drift.

OK, for those of you who asked for it, here it is. 

Ingredients:
Egg yolks  - 3 large or 4 medium.  (Fresh as possible, purchased locally is best.)

1 14 oz. can of Sweetened Condensed Milk (not evaporated milk)

2 Tablespoons of cold tap water.

3 teaspoons of Pure Vanilla Extract

1 Cup of crushed cookies of choice (Oreo's or Lorna Doones* were her cookies of choice)

2 Cups Heavy Whipping Cream.  Whipped to soft peaks. (Do not use artificial whipped toppings)

To make:
1. In a large glass bowl, beat the egg yolks, water, and vanilla with a wire whisk.
2. Whisk in the condensed milk and blend thoroughly until yolk color is no longer visible. Refrigerate immediately. (In NOLA she put it in the freezer because of the heat)
3. In another bowl beat the heavy cream with a hand mixer at high speed until soft peaks are present.
4. Remove the bowl of egg mixture from the refrigerator and fold the whipped cream into the egg mixture.
5 Fold in the crushed cookies until well incorporated, and turn into a freezer safe container, (She used deep aluminum ice trays covered with foil. Durable plastic freezer-ware wasn't available at the time.) and freeze immediately.
6. Freeze 2 to 4 hours before serving.

* When using Lorna Doones, she added 1/4 teaspoon of ground cinnamon to the egg mixture in step 1.

Enjoy! Or, not.  Let me know how it turns out for you or is you have questions. Keep in mind this was a very rare treat when I was a kid, so the experience was savored luxury.

Note: Bill Withers' wonderful song titled "Grandma's Hands" always reminded me of my grandmother.  It still brings tears to my eyes.

And so it goes.
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Homemade Ice Cream and Memories

 Having staggered home last evening after a long and taxing day, there was some raw meat, thawed and ready to cook that needed attention. The fact that I was tired of leftovers was the major impetus for creating something new.

Opening a fave old southern cookbook a piece of paper fell out and floated into my lap. When I read it a chill (no pun intended) ran through me.  It was a recipe I extracted from my grandmother's memories back in the 80s when I was picking her brain for any and all recipes I loved while growing up.  She was not one to write things down, nor was she one who measured everything.  She was never a baker - thank G*d!

This was a recipe for homemade ice cream that required no ice cream freezer/maker and one I remember vividly. I decided to make it and see if it held up and was as smooth as I remembered it. After a quick run to the market around the corner for a pint of heavy cream, I was ready to go.

Thirty minutes later, the mixture was in a container, freezing for a taste test later. The bowls and mixer washed and put away, I prepared my evening meal.

(Note: When I was a child the ice cream freezing process was a tedious chore, requiring lots of ice chunks, and rock salt, then hand-cranking the damned machine for about 45 minutes - see the image above. This was usually my job.)

Then a few hours later before bedtime, I tasted the ice cream and OMG, it was just as I remembered it.  Flashback to when I was a kid, sitting in front of a high speed box fan on a hot summer afternoon (we had no AC back then) savoring the smooth, creamy texture of this remarkable ice cream miracle.  Which it was, at least to me.  I thought of my tiny grandmother, hot and humid New Orleans summer days,  and special treats like this one.

I'll enjoy a dish again tonight and give thanks for little things that fall from obscurity into a lap of memory and love.

And so it goes.
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Ancient 'NYC" of Canada Discovered

This is another one of those wonderful historic detective stories that I love so much. Here you go:

Today New York City is the Big Apple of the Northeast but new research reveals that 500 years ago, at a time when Europeans were just beginning to visit the New World, a settlement on the north shore of Lake Ontario, in Canada, was the biggest, most complex, cosmopolitan place in the region.

Occupied between roughly A.D. 1500 and 1530, the so-called Mantle site was settled by the Wendat (Huron). Excavations at the site, between 2003 and 2005, have uncovered its 98 longhouses, a palisade of three rows (a fence made of heavy wooden stakes and used for defense) and about 200,000 artifacts. Dozens of examples of art have been unearthed showing haunting human faces and depictions of animals, with analysis ongoing.

Now, a scholarly book detailing the discoveries is being prepared and a documentary about the site called "Curse of the Axe" aired this week on the History Channel in Canada.

"This is an Indiana Jones moment, this is huge," said Ron Williamson, an archaeologist who led dig efforts at the site, in the documentary shown in a premiere at the Royal Ontario Museum. "It just seems to be a game-changer in every way." [See Photos of the Mantle Site Artifacts]

Williamson is the founder of Archaeological Services Inc., a Canadian cultural resource management firm that excavated the site.

"It's the largest, most complex, cosmopolitan village of its time," said Williamson, also of the University of Toronto, in an interview with LiveScience.  "All of the archaeologists, basically, when they see Mantle, they're just utterly stunned."

The Mantle people

Scientists estimate between 1,500 and 1,800 individuals inhabited the site, whose fields encompassed a Manhattan-size area. To clothe themselves they would have needed 7,000 deer hides annually, something that would have required hunting about 26 miles (40 km) in every direction from the site, Williamson said.

"When you think about a site like Mantle, 2,000 people, massive stockade around a community, a better analogy is that of a medieval town," Jennifer Birch, a post-doctoral researcher at the University of Georgia, said in the documentary. "While the cultures are very different, the societal form really isn't."

There is more HERE, including more images and commentary.

And so it goes.

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