Bits and bobs

Morning all, hope you are well. Duke is stretched out next to me, and my sweet Baboo is in the kitchen nattering around.

Sadly, it’s a work day for me. There are too many things I have to focus on today. Some of it is with paperwork. Most of it is physical.

I made a horrible mistake. I washed 2 of those throws that are plush from walmart. I received them over a couple of years for holiday gifts, and I’d stitched them together to cover my legs in the wheelchair.

I’m going to be turning them into something else. Not only have the edges fallen fallen off over the years, but they are pretty tatty. So, I’m going to re-bind the edges, and cover the outside with sheet fabric.

I desperately need a leg cover in the wheelchair when I’m out and about. The sleeping bag I’d used fell apart. These were a substitute. I just can’t afford to buy another one, and I have a couple of sheets I can sacrifice.

So, that’s the first plan of attack. I also have paperwork for the volunteer organization I chair. There is talk of having another organization meeting in February. I have to get the prep done. That’s a couple of hours of research and organization.

Then there is the normal monthly break down of the grocery lists and going through exactly what we need in the home. My husband has recently insisted on adding another store to shop at.

The problem is that the new store is higher in some prices than the one we are used to using. This means that I have to swap back and forth between the two, comparing prices, and getting half at the one, half at the other.

I’ve got to start telling him no to certain things with the food budget. We have evolved our diet so much over the years to work with what we can afford. The problem? Telling him we can’t afford some of the foods he wants.

This is not asshole tax. This is not petty revenge. This is pure and simple, we can’t afford the price per ounce of certain foods. Everything adds up. It’s going to mean some bland af eating. However, with the cost of everything, if we don’t – we will not be able to pay property taxes.

So, that’s where we are at this point. Wrestling down the cost per ounce of everything. It doesn’t help that I need another round of insulin this month. That’s an expense that is closer to 10 percent of my personal income than I like.

Chuckle, I had a discussion with a pharmacy tech the other day. She said, “Doesn’t your insurance cover this/that or the next thing?” Snort, I said, “Nope, in fact they gloried in calling me to say, that they won’t cover my insulin.”

I mean, I know that they hire new staff all the time, but this youngling needs to understand that some medications that are required for life are considered luxuries by insurance companies. I know, it is 2023. I’ve seen rumours of it everywhere.

Back to my day. I also at some point have to run and pick up the grocery order that took 3 hours to make with my beloved last night. We went through every price, every item, and I told him, we can’t afford this/that/whichever.

He had 88 dollars in his account. It wasn’t enough for what he wanted. We are getting wholesome healthy food, just not his favorites.

That’s about it. Huge hugs my friends. I have a couple more recipes to round out the month, but should be back to normal programming soon. See ya next week, same bat-time same bat-channel. -L

A person’s worth

In the last 10 day or so, this blog post was born. You may wish to skip this post as it gets a bit grim.

Recently, in a meeting, I felt like I was in a men’s locker room with the good old boy network. A comment was made in jest, and I left the meeting in tears. In no uncertain terms, that comment informed me of the value that this person has in me as a human.

I spent the night in tears. Memories flooding back of the decades I fought for the right to recover in a “Good old boys” situation. I used to say to myself, “Just wait until they move, get drunk, or die. It will get better.” Eventually, with covid, I realized the truth. The good old boys really don’t give a flying fig, and I moved on with my life.

I’d foolishly believed that I couldn’t change the meeting, or the group except by being there, and working the program from the book. Changing it by carrying the message to meetings directly from the literature. I couldn’t continue. I was done.

Another coversation I had with someone, about rights really brought home the situation. When I’m in the public, I’m discredited because I’m in the chair. I’m discredited because I’m fat. I’m discredited because I’m female, or old.

I’m not the only one though. Let’s take a look at a baby born with cerebral palsy, or a severe illness. Healthy babies are treated better or quicker. Beautiful babies, in the caregiver’s eyes are given more affection and attention. I’ve watched in the clinic, in the waiting room. The sickly child, there for an appointment is treated as a burden. The kid with a scraped up arm is given more care and affection.

The mentally ill are given the least amount of care, forced back into society untreated and unmaintained. Why?

I’m a true crime junkie, a murderino if you will. When the care of a human on death row is much more expensive and given than a woman in a coma. When the government spends millions on the defense of a serial killer and nursing homes are shut down for staffing issues and lack of funding leaving the elderly in dire straights, that screams of WTF.

I have seen the news articles of nursing homes shutting down for that specific reason. An excellent resource backing my arguement.

Why is it that the desperately poor get less schooling than the blatently rich? Why is it that the murder of a person of privelege is investigated more fully than the murder of a prostitute? Why are certain groups considered of more value than others?

How much value is one human life? What is the cost of a human’s soul?

Why do foster care kids get thrown into more desperate situations than their parents had? Linked article I’m just curious?

Why does one human have more value than another? I don’t know. What I do know, is the there are no easy answers. I do know that even to get the links for this blog post, I had to beat google into submission.

So today, I’m asking you to please, consider the value of the homeless woman begging for a little money. The old man who sits in the nursing home alone. Consider the human, who was disfigured in a fire. Consider them, because they are us. We are all equals, my friends. From the baby with cerebral palsy, to the serial killer on death row, to the dead prostitute their victim. We are all of value. Please treat others as equals today.


Cold brew

Morning all, hope you are well. Young Master Duke is pestering to go outside. My beloved is reading in the dining room. I’m wrapped up tightly. I just can’t get warm.

However, I’m trying a bit of an experiment. A very long time ago, I came into acquisition of a microwave percolator. Let that sink in a minute. Yes, this thing is designed to be used in a microwave.

However, our microwave is too small for this, so I left it sit in the cupboard for a few years. Recently I dug through that cupboard for something else and found the contraption.

I realized that I have the perfect pour over system, and used it the other night for exactly that purpose. But then I got to thinking. I’d never had cold brew coffee before. I’m told it’s less acidic.

So, I did it. I used the same mechanism, poured cold water in it, and tossed it in the fridge overnight. Holy crap, it worked. The coffee was smooth.

So, we will see how it goes. I just reheat the coffee a cup at a time, add my fixings, and enjoy.

Now for personal use… I will post a separate recipe post for that. I don’t believe in throwing a crap ton of stuff before any recipes I post.

By the way, I might harvest some of my favorite recipes out of my personal book for you all. Take care, my friends. Hugs, -L

I don’t wanna and you can’t make me… but you can.

Morning all, hope you are well. Young Master Duke and I are posting from bed again. He’s by my side in the eternal snuggle position. I’ve added a folding table at the bedside in order to deal with late night needs.

That’s not the change I’m whinging about though. I was encouraged by the app I’ve been using to run the blog for a long time to swap to another app. At first, I ignored it. I was more interested in getting this week’s posts out.

However, I finally made the swap. I use the app on 3 devices. The reason? The picture posts just come from my phone, and if I am having a pain day, phone posting works. I use the small tablet for editing or a quick update. The larger device gets the brunt of the work.

So, it’s change. I know, there’s I’m sure very good reasons for abandoning the old app. I’m sure that there are valid uses for the new one. However, I’m a whinging type. I don’t like change. I liked that blue W icon to greet me every day. I knew where it was, how it worked… And yet, the new icon is just as pretty.

It’s like changing the packaging on my favorite soda. Whining isn’t becomming of a knitterly person. I know.

That said, I suppose I better get back to work. This website doesn’t program itself. Snort.

Take care my friends, huge hugs. I’ll get over my dinosaur self. -L