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From my Mary Engelbreit calendar from yesterday. So true for me these days. I am content. Although, of course, I am getting out more than I was. My post-op visit yesterday was very good, and I drove through Panera on the way home.
Our state's slogan was Healthy At Home and is now transitioning to Healthy At Work. Maybe Phase Three should be Happiest At Home.
Next Wednesday I'll have surgery on the other eye and then my vision will be balanced. Just a little near-sighted, hopefully. I've ordered readers from Amazon since I know I won't have the good near vision without them. A different world for me.
I'm transitioning to less screen time, especially news. It's just too crazy. Not the actual news, but the political posturing and distracting. I am worn out from it.
Sarah was here last week with smallest brown dog P-Nut. Here P-Nut is looking hopefully out the door for Sarah to return from working in the yard, running, or bicycle riding. Sometimes there was even a little crying involved, despite my trying to reassure her that Sarah would indeed come back.
P-Nut isn't the kind of dog that enjoys being petted, but I've learned that if I cover her with a blanket or fleece jacket she will tolerate my putting a hand over the fleece. Prior to her rescue, I think she had a hard life.
Sarah was here because I had cataract surgery on my right eye. It was a fast-growing cataract, originally scheduled for surgery when things were shut down. When I went in for the surgery I could barely see with that eye and now . . . I can see well. Truly a miracle surgery for me.
Of course, I worried more about the surgery than I should have. Partly, most likely, from being isolated those weeks ahead of time. When I went for testing two days prior to the surgery it was the first time I'd been anywhere except for pick-ups at the grocery or pharmacy or (yay!) the quilt shop. Suddenly I found myself in a large medical building with many people, elevators, masks everywhere. It was a little shocking.
Next week, most likely, surgery on the other eye, and then the eyes should be equally slightly near-sighted.
On April 5 I started this stocking during the governor's press conference. Every day for a month I worked on it during the press conferences, sometimes did a bit at other times. On May 5 it was finished. That's a lot of hours, but I'm reminded of the Appalachian saying, "What's time to a hog?"
It's not for anyone, that wasn't really the point. The point was keeping my fingers busy and working toward something. Anything.
I have no more stockings in my stash, but there are a couple of banners that I might work on. I have no desire to do another stocking. In fact, I'd like to find a hand project that is more creative and doesn't include beading at all.
After days of stable positive coronavirus cases, there was a big spike in the state yesterday. Half of those were in a state prison. Probably more in long term care facilities. That seems to be where cases concentrate quickly.
On Sunday my family delivered two lovely hanging baskets from a band fund raiser. I'm keeping an eye on the weather - Friday night for sure they will need to come in to escape the frost. Possibly even tonight. I don't want anything to happen to them.
It's Kentucky Derby Day. The race has been postponed until September, but it's still Derby Day. There will be a virtual race later this afternoon between former winners. Not the same, but something to look forward to.
In other times, there would be big hats and mint juleps, Celebrating in the infield. Excitement for a dry track. Waiting for the University of Louisville band to play My Old Kentucky Home.
Never mind our often-cited poor health, less than stellar education. On the first Saturday in May, for a brief time, everyone wishes they lived here.
The pin in the picture is enameled metal, by the way. A long-ago lovely gift.
Each day our Kentucky governor talks about the new coronavirus deaths, noting their sex, age, and county, and asks us to light up our homes or buildings green to remember them. Yesterday I found this pale green votive holder with my holiday stash, but when I lit the candle on my porch, there was barely a green tint. I'll keep looking.
Usually, there are about ten Kentucky deaths. There is a hospital that I can see out my dining room window, and that is where the northern Kentucky patients are sent. I have no idea how many are there. I worry about them.
Beginning May 11 we will be asked to wear masks as new locations open. I've had several requests, so I'll need to get started on those. In my perfect world, I'd love to put a supply of masks on a bush by my sidewalk so neighbors can take what they need, but my sewing world hasn't been that perfect. So, I'll give them to folks who ask.
My days are uneven. I'll have good days, then for no apparent reason, not-so-good days. Days when I cook and days when I eat crackers and cheese. Days when I try to reach out to people who might need a boost and days when I . . . don't. Days when I turn on my sewing machine, days when it stays quiet.
No picture today, just this story.
When I made out my grocery pick-up order, I decided to see if I could get a piece of fresh salmon. Last time, I ordered there was none available when the pick-up day came. This time the option was for 2 1/2 pounds, too much for me, so I asked my daughter if she would like half if I ordered it. Yes.
Yesterday morning when the text list of possible substitutions came, the salmon choice was for a one-pound fillet in place of 2 1/2 pounds. So, ok. Being the mom, I decided I'd just give Steph and Nora the small piece and say nothing more about it.
But when I unpacked my groceries, there was a huge piece of salmon, 4 pounds. It was enormous. I've learned in the past that grocery store salmon doesn't freeze well, I'm guessing because it had previously been frozen. So, I cut off about a pound for myself and sent the rest with Steph.
She and Nora had some for dinner, with enough left over for lunch. Then she cooked the rest and shared it with two other families.
And I felt happy, the happiest I've felt in days. I enjoy feeding people but these days I don't cook big meals. One of my favorite things is to take my family out for a meal. I know that it will be a long time before that happens again, big groups of people in restaurants. I know I'll miss that.
This other way of sharing food was a blessing to me. It lifted my spirits. It gave me hope, and that has been in short supply.
My bed. It pulls me in during the afternoon. A seductive siren.
Yesterday I was working on a beaded stocking when I spilled the container of little black seed beads. They scattered everywhere on the hardwood floor. I know I'll be finding little beads forever. But to actually find them when I need them, not so easy. I need to look under the couch, maybe I can find enough to finish the project.
I felt so bad. One of the protesters was saying that we shouldn't be so concerned about old people, they will just die from the flu next year anyway. Prior to all this, I often felt that my life was too small, but I love my little life It's precious to me.
Our Kentucky governor seems firm about not easing restrictions yet, while we are in the plateau. Looking at the data and the science. But the Tennessee governor is ready to go ahead. We share a long border. Ohio will probably move more slowly.
But for today, this day, it is sunny with afternoon high's in the upper 60's.
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