Guilty pleasure

Morning all, my beloved is doing much better after the surgery. I’m still getting rid of the sniffle/cough from mold exposure. I do feel much better though myself. Young Master Duke has taken over the bed, and is sprawled showing himself in all his glory.

I’ve been watching quite a few videos on social media, and have rediscoverd the world of cartoons. I’m not talking about Bugs Bunny or Charlie Brown though.

There are 3 or 4 channels I watch, and when the notification pops up, I grab a cuppa and settle in. I guess the only thing missing is the cocoa puffs and milk, if I think of it. Oh, and the footy pajamas of course.

When I weighed less than a third of what I do now, and was probably about 2-3 feet shorter, I would watch Saturday Morning cartoons religiously. The only thing that could trump those cartoons was if the circus was in town, or if it was Christmas.

We stopped having babysitters by the time I was 8, and the boob tube became the best kid watcher in the county for us. That was also the year I learned to ride bycycle. My next youngest sibling was born that next spring, and my brother and I were left to run a bit wild.

It is what it is.

Hugs my friends, take care. -L

Old Time Radio

Morning all, hope you are well. The boys are sound asleep, and I am alive.

Over the last couple of days, I’ve been listening to old time radio podcasts. I double dog dare you to listen to them. Holy crap, Superman, Batman, tales of the FBI, Burns and Allen… and more.

The stories are so interesting, and keep my rapt attention. Even the old commercials. Kellog’s dog food, and the latest cereal. Chuckle, those particular items went defunct when I was a child.

I at least am enjoying myself. The stories are complete, and while they are broken up by commercials, it works.

I’m still hoping to go camping, but it is starting to look grim. I hope to go, but will have to alter my plans quite a bit.

Hugs my friends, take care. -L

Hysterically inspired

Morning all, I’m settled in with the sniffles and a cuppa. Hope you are well. The lovely young fellas are sleeping, and of course, I can’t make it happen.

I fell down a history rabbit hole tonight. I started watching Tony Robinson walk down paths throughout his homeland. I’m not sure whether to call it Britain? England? I know he ended up in Wales, Cornwall and Scotland. I think I watched/listened for over 5 hours.

The next video to come up was a history of the Vikings. It was a bit bloody. Okay, as I type this, a quote from the video… “Vikings lived in a time of blood.”

So yeah. I ended up researching pre-viking age clothing. There’s not much in the archaeological record for that. I’m talking pre-700’s Norther European clothing. It’s time to start stitching my winter wardrobe, and I’m interested in this period.

I need something that is warm, will work with the wheelchair, and is light enough that it doesn’t restrict or bind my body painfully. These garments will not be historical, by anymeans, and in fact will probably be hysterical.

Considering that most days I tap dance barefoot on shards of madness, I think hysterical is more apt.

I doubt I will be sewing much until the shoulder heals quite a bit. Especially with the right arm being numb from about t-shirt sleeve downwards. However, I want to get something done. I may resort to just using a sewing machine and saying chuck it.

Nobody is going to be looking at my seams, and I am not a reinactor. I do not attend Renfairs, as the public at large gives me the skeevies.

I’m thinking on what to do for fabric for the top layer. It might be cheapest to get surplus wool blankets on my next trip to town. We will see what happens. I want the underclothes done first. I also, as layering cotton is actually quite warm, am willing to wait on that for quite awhile.

Most of these clothes will be worn exclusively at home. I am not enamored with the idea of being around humanity right now. One thing I have noticed is that the more physical pain I am in, the less I am willing to be around others.

At this rate, I may end up as a hermit in a tent in the wilds of Minnesota somewhere. Wait, that’s a camping trip.

Sighs. I try to not go too manic on the blog. Please at least chuckle at the mayhem.

Take care my friends. If I actually am able to get the stitchery done, I will have someone take pictures.

Hugs, -L

Something is sticking in my craw

Morning all, hope you are well. Young Master Duke has been outside, and barked at whatever he so desired. My beloved is awake, and slowly moving around.

I’ve been thinking on something I overheard recently. It elicited a fight or flight response. To quote young Sharkie, “I am a flightless bird.” I can’t dislodge what they said from my brain. To roughly paraphrase the person… “You have to follow the rules, but I don’t.” To be fair, this was not exactly what was said. This is the paraphrase, or the gist of their words.

It’s sticking to my craw.

You know what it is like to take a bite of a peanut butter and bread sandwich and there is way too much peanut butter in it? It sticks to the roof of your mouth, and no amount of milk can dislodge it. You about choke to death on peanut butter and bread. That’s what it is like having something stuck in your craw.

In teaching someone how to do something. Does it make sense for a master knitter to say, “Always do a gauge swatch,” when they never do it? Or does it make sense for the person teaching someone how to cook to say, “Always wash your hands before you start cooking, and after you touch raw meat.” And then you see them do the exact opposite?

No, it doesn’t make sense.

I guess, I’m grinding my teeth over one off hand comment, but it is driving me out of my tree. Sighs.

Hugs, my friends, I guess I needed to get this off my chest. I truly hope you are well, please take care of yourself today. -L

A slightly newish addiction

Morning all, it’s a lovely day in the neighborhood. Hubsy is as well as can be expected, and Young Master Duke is being an angel pupper.

I just swilled another can of soda. Normally I don’t drink soda or pop at all. However, since my beloved’s surgery, I’ve been downing it like it is coffee. Sighs. Yes, I have certain abdominal issues. Yes, this is absolutely stupid of me. Ergo, I file this under addiction, or the list of things I do that will probably be fatal.

Current drink of choice is Sunkist Orange Zero Sugar. I would grab a diet Sunkist Orange back when I was mostly in store shopping when I needed to wet my whistle and was craving sweets. Yes, Diet Dr Pepper is still a favorite, but you know.

I have a dark history with Sunkist Orange. Well, to be accurate, with orange soda. Back when pop was what we called everything soaked in sugar and carbonated, I was a cute kid called “FAT LADY” by the step-monster. I looked like I had worms I was so skinny but I digress.

She would on rare occasion buy us some pop, but kept it in the trunk of her car. One hot summer day, she let my brother and I know that she’d bought some and to get it from the car. We could have a can for bringing in the groceries. I was probably 7 at the time.

It’d been sitting in the car for hours. I’m estimating that it was July, and out in the country, there was no shade for this vehicle to sit under. The cans were hot to the touch. She insisted we have some.

Both of us got violently sick from it.

I stopped drinking pop for quite awhile afterwards.

For those of you not in the know, my step-beast was a being without a soul or a bone of sanity. Sighs.

Meanwhile, I have made my peace with soda, even if it causes me to have abdominal discomfort, and fart like I’ve had 3 beef and bean burritos followed by a bowl of cauliflower. Chuckle.

Hugs my friends, I’ve learned that the pain of the past doesn’t control me. That witch has absolutely nothing to do with me in 2022. While I am sure one of my siblings stalks my blog, the witch can suck it. Stay petty my friends. -L