Yesterday was awesome!!.  I was under no pressure to do anything, go anywhere, or talk to anyone.  Perfect restfulness.  I was talked out.

My friend Jeanette knows how talking for an hour on Sunday wears me out and when I leave the class, she tells everyone, “Thar’ she goes...”  I’m headed out with no small talk left to give--after teaching for an hour.

My azaleas are blooming.  So beautiful.  Jeaninne, (across the street) brought me an azalea from the Muskogee azalea festival eight years ago.  It has grown and is covered with blossoms.  If you haven’t been to the Muskogee festival...GO.  It is awesome. Zillions of azaleas.

Ann will be here in a few minutes to go to breakfast.  It is the only constant thing I do each week.  Fridays belong to Ann. We do the sales and buy nothing.

Squig feels so much better.  The medication has done wonders.  But he has a another new med he is going to take.  $65 a month. $90 for the special dog food.  $40 haircut.   I don’t eat as well as he does.  He can’t have hardly any fat due to pancreatitis on top of everything else.  And when you remove something from dog food...the price goes up for what you don’t get!!! Go figure.

Today, for the first time in months, I have nothing to do but go to lunch with a friend.  I got up with nothing to do and am going to go to bed with it half done. (As Ken would always say.)

It is raining a slow soft rain.  The first real rain we have had in months.  Lightening and thunder as well.  It’s like music from a score I had forgotten what it sounded like.

Squig does not have cancer.  The ultra sound proved that the inside of him is in perfect condition.  He probably has Cushing’s disease, but it is treatable.  I am elated.  This is one of the best days I’ve had in a long time.

Sudoko is done.  Cryptograms are done.  Crosswords are done with only one word I couldn’t get.

The beans have sprouted.  I’ve picked ten or so asparagus spears, the parsley has grown more fluffy.  The tomatoes are holding their own, and in June I will plant the okra.  Things are good.  I just have to keep the rabbits out of the okra.  I’ll put glass jars over the sprouts and hope for the best.

There is a question in the minds of Christians from time to time--as they watch “So called Christians” who seem very out of touch with what the new life is supposed to look like.  And of course, everyone has their own opinions about what that looks like.

Seems like some people think that if you were “Really” redeemed, you would automatically “toe the line.”  Or...the other possibility is that you weren’t saved in the first place.

The scripture Sunday said something like, “If you endure to the end you will be saved.”  We were talking about those who were told they would be persecuted.  Or those who would deny Christ.

I said that I thought there was a third possibility, maybe you might have a moment of weakness in the face of extreme danger.  Maybe you would react as Peter did and deny Christ and it would break your heart and you would be broken.  Maybe we are all weak in some circumstances.  I said that a threat to me wouldn’t move me, but if I was forced to watch my children, their children all 46 of my family be burned slowly--and it was up to me to save them, I might be like Peter.  I hope not.  I hope God will never give me a circumstance that I can’t bear.  My class thought I was nuts to think up such an occurrence.  But the point is, everyone has a different breaking point.  Just lean on God in your life, not yourself.

 Squig went to sleep at 7:30 last night, and at 8:30 this morning, I had to wake him up to take him outside.  When he came back in, he went back to sleep.  He didn’t eat.  He is going to the vet tomorrow for an ultrasound to see if he has liver cancer, or if it is Cushing’s disease. 

Either way, it’s not good.  He doesn’t have many days left.  It makes me so sad...he is my best friend.

He sleeps on the other side of the bed at night.  For the last few weeks, when he woke up, he has come to my side, crawled under the covers and snuggled up to my side.  He wants comfort, he trusts me, and knows I will not let him suffer.

So far, he doesn’t seem to be in any pain, which is good.  But every day, he gets tireder and tireder.  He sleeps.  Yesterday when I asked him if he wanted to go in the car with me, he lifted his head and didn’t move.

This is hard.  He’s been my constant companion for over fourteen years.  He chose me when we brought him home and has been choosing me ever since.  “There is a time to live, and a time to die...” is what Ecclesiastes has to say.  When Squig goes, I will be the last leaf on the tree.  That’s what happens when you live as long as I have.  You have watched everyone go.  The next generation, my children are in their fifties and sixties and will have to take over.  I’m hanging on.  God has blessed me with hundreds and hundreds of family and friends.

Friday again!  They come so quick anymore.  Ann is out of town for the weekend, so I won’t be going to breakfast or garage sale looking.

For some reason, after the exterminator did his thing both outside and in, I have an army of ants around my chair.  I’ve never had ants but once before when I brought my potted succulents in for the winter and brought an ant farm in with them.  They had taken up residence in the pots of dirt.

The doctor I saw yesterday morning put me on a medicine, but had me confer with another doctor that afternoon--who took me off of it.  Luckily I hadn’t spent money on the prescription yet.  

I can hardly keep up with all of this stuff.  I don’t think they can either.  My advice is, “Don’t get old.”  Everything is coming apart one thing after another.  But I feel good.  So something must be working.

I tried to walk the dog yesterday, but by the time I had passed four houses, the wind was blowing me away.  This has been the windiest year I ever remember.  Fifty miles an hour is average.  What we need is rain.

The bug man said I had moles in the back yard really bad.  I’m taking a live and let live attitude about that.  They eat grubs, but if I treat the grubs, it will kill the earth worms.  That’s a win-lose proposition for my garden. And Squig likes to hunt the moles. 

For the first time in four weeks I don’t have to deal with bugs.  I am going to have a normal day--whatever that is.  I only have two doctor’s appointments today.  That’s it.  I will have time to finish the three or four crossword puzzles--I’m backed up on from all the craziness of the past three weeks.

Squig is on the “bad” list.  He had used the skirt of one of my loveseats as an outhouse.  Stanley Steemer did the best they could, and came back twice.  But Squig is now in diapers when I leave the house.  He hates it.  When I pick a diaper up, he starts hiding--to get away from me.

I will never have another male dog.  They instinctively have to mark their territory.  I thought that since Squig was “fixed” as a puppy, he wouldn’t have that problem.  Was I ever wrong.  If I get another dog it will be a “Squatter.”  It’s easier to spot an accident and deal with training.

But I forgive Squig.  It’s not his fault that I didn’t catch him sooner and put a stop to it.  He's a dog.  And his good qualities are wonderful.  He just needs to understand that if he doesn’t want to wear a diaper, there are requirements involved. 

I’m going to Yummy China today.  Their portions are double what I eat and it comes with sour soup.  The food is to die for, and I haven’t eaten out in a week. Luncheon special: $7:95, and it is three meals for me.  A deal.  

 The exterminator came.  I am so thankful.  The bugs aren’t drain flys, they are dandelion mites.  They were coming in through a break in the brick mortar, dropping into a window frame and falling into the tub, then heading to the drain where there was water.

He said that over half of the company’s calls this year were for the mites.  Last year, it was army worms.  This year dandelion mites.

I called Tony to come repair the mortar by the side of the bathroom window.  Tony is my right hand guy. 

I am so glad I called the exterminator.  Expensive, but a permanent solution.  I have spent four weeks killing them one at a time.  Now, they will all be gone.  He also sprayed the foundation so all bugs are done for.

I saw the cardiologist today and told him what my GP had said.  I had asked her how you would know I died since my pacemaker would keep my heart beating.   She said, “Oh, Janie.  We’ll know...because you’ll stop talking. My cardiologist got a kick out of that and said that my heart wouldn’t be what kills me.  It is strong.  It just doesn’t beat.  He said I would live to one hundred and two.  That’s a relief...as long as I don’t have to live in a house with bugs.

The bugs have won.  I called the exterminators and they will come tomorrow afternoon--and guarantee their work.  I am glad the war will be over.  I am not “Lord of the Flies.”  

I just want my spa bathroom and deep tub back.  I do not like the tub in the guest area.  I’ll probably replace the guest room tub.  I had already done everything else in that bath when I moved here. Granite, new sinks, toilet and natural stone floor.  I have no idea why I didn’t replace the tub in the guest area. To do it now I’m sure they will break the tile on the floor.  I’m watching money vanish.

Everything in my bath is new.  They tore the entire bathroom out and replaced everything four years ago before I moved in.  The drain flys moved in four weeks ago and nobody knows where they came from.  Warning:  call an exterminator.  You can’t get rid of them on your own.  Not a single person has been able to tell me how they got there.  The ladies clean the house every two weeks.  The plumbers I know and have talked to have never heard of them.  And say that if they were fruit flys they would be in the kitchen.  No.

Tomorrow, my life will return to normal.  Whatever that is.  I will fill my lovely tub to the brim with hot water and soak.  Ahhh.... 

I have made a habit of--when I go out to dinner with friends--not just to bless the food, but when the waiter brings it to us, to tell him or her that we are going to bless our food, and ask, “Is there anything you would like us to pray for you?”  Only once has the waiter said no.  It has been very interesting.

They will say, “My grandmother is really sick, could you pray for her?” Or “My mom is going to have surgery.”  But it is always something.  We pray a very (very) short prayer and include what they asked for.  

But sometimes they ask for something for themselves.  The other day our server was black, we were all white that day--although we have been mixed in the past.  So I reached up and held his wrist and prayed for what he had asked us to pray for.  He wanted strength.

I had to leave early; he came up and held the door for me and said, “You will never know what that meant to me.  I need strength in my life.”  I said, “Alcohol?”  He said, “Yes.”  I talked to him for awhile and told him about calling Apple for help with my computer and talking with a young man who said, “You know, Ma’am, this call isn’t about your computer, it is a divine appointment for me.”  These things happen if you are ready to engage with others.

 2384.  That’s the number of posts I have done as of today.  I have no idea what I have told you or what I have said.  I have just gotten up every day and written something.  

I used to do it seven days a week...and soon realized that was going to kill me.  Burn out.  Lately, Fridays are hard...because Ann picks me up between seven-thirty and eight and I barely get the dog out, in, and fed, and take my morning meds, etc. etc.  You know the routine.

Then I get my hair done at eleven, go to lunch, come home and collapse and think about posting.  Around 2 in the afternoon.

Today Ann and I went to an Estate sale that my grandson Steven was running.  He is Becky’s son.  I was amazed at all the things that were sold and out the door that I had missed seeing.  I sat in a chair and watched.  Ann climbed the stairs...I can’t do that any more.  

I never find anything I want.  It is interesting how little tempts me.  In my thirties, I would have run out of money before I ran out of things I wanted to buy.  Now I just want to get rid of all the things that need to be dusted.  I guess on post 2384, I am taking you with me on a journey of old age.  All the things that used to be important aren’t important anymore.

 When you don’t have much to do, anywhere to go, or anything else, it’s hard to remember what day it is.  

I took lunch to Jeanette.  She is working an estate sale today and tomorrow for my grandsons Steven and David.  They are learning the business from my daughter Becky--and Jeanette runs the cash register for them.  Jeanette calls them “The boys.”  They are in their 30’s but are still boys to me as well.  

I used to travel with Becky overseas and take one of them (one at a time, I couldn’t manage both of them together).  Becky was working as an engineer for Conoco, and spent a lot of time in Europe--so she had a lot of free miles and would get me a ticket.  She would go to work on some off shore oil rig, and I would take whoever we brought with us an hop a train.

England, France, Germany, the Check Republic, Italy...I can’t remember how many times I went.  It made me aware of how big a mistake America made by abandoning rail transport for passengers.  We built roads.  And cars.  Europe has a fantastic rail system.  We used to have them.  I would get on a train when I was young and go by myself from Sialome Springs to Heavener Okla.  My uncle was a brakeman.  I was probably ten years old.  The trains were always full of passengers. 

The battle of the flys is continuing.  I am slowly winning.  Or not.  It’s hard to tell.  Each day there are fewer of them.

My friend across the street, Jeanine, took me to lunch today.  It was to a cafeteria that was awesome--on the campus of  her denomination’s college.  DDDDDelicious.  Dozens of choices.  I had Chinese and it was awesome.  She kept wanting to take me for my birthday and today was the first day we could work it out.

My azaleas are starting to bloom.  Everything is late.  Very late this year.  Ann planted Hosta roots for me last year.  I didn’t know if the roots made the winter, but they are coming up!

The cryptogram this morning was: “In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.”  I’m working on that.  Scott sent me a new kind of green beans.  I planted them, but probably won’t stick with picking them.  Laziness will set in when it gets hot.  I know myself.

He also sent me and Ann tomatoes.  Jet Stars.  They do well here.  Ann took most of them because she is always feeding a crowd.  She asked me to Easter dinner, and asked if I had any of Kathy’s rolls left.  I do!  And will share them. (Reluctantly--ha ha.)  My friend Kathy bakes and sends them to me from Pryor when Becky Bacon comes to the eye doctors here.  God has given me the best friends in the world.

Today, I am remembering to post.  Carolyn and I have been talking about this generation’s problem with grocery shortages.  Most of them don’t know how to cook.

I remember what Ken told me on his first attempts in the kitchen after twenty-one years in the Marines, and over thirty years as a college prof.  He had never (never) in our marriage attempted anything in the kitchen, but I had been in breast cancer recovery and he was fending for himself.

“I think I’ve got it,” he said.  “If you start with good stuff, it will probably turn out good to eat.”  I didn’t correct him.  Before we were married, his mom kept him fed.  In the Marine Corps, he ate at the officer’s mess--which was always top notch.  Linens, crystal, silver, waiters.  And when he married me, I kept him fed.  I didn’t do a good job at first, but he ate what I put in front of him. (Except Spam--supply ship in Korea got bombed and all the cook had to give them was spam.  Spam and eggs.  Spam sandwiches.  Sweet and sour spam on rice.  For months.)

But this generation has never learned the basics to ward off starvation.  If you have flour, cornmeal, eggs, milk and beans...you will survive.  Someone asked me the other day how to make beans. “You boil them in water!!!  If you have a ham bone, throw that in.”  Back in the day, everyone had chickens, a cow, and a hog or two.  Everything you needed along with the flour and cornmeal.  Soda powder, salt and yeast were appreciated.  This new generation doesn’t know where to start.  What happened to those cooking classes in school?  

Hello Monday morning!  I still have bathtub-drain bugs.  I called the product company phone this morning and got a real (lovely) person.  She wanted to know everything I had tried before using their product.  “Clorox, Borax, Vinegar, Soda, and a can of Raid,” I told  her.

She asked me if the gel (her company sold me) had slowed them down, and told me that the product wouldn’t kill them.  It traps them.  The smell of the citronella draws them into the gel and they are trapped and die.

The product says it takes time.  What you don’t want is for the little bugs to hatch and grow wings and breed and lay more eggs.  It is kinda like the egg, caterpillar, butterfly cycle.  Three stages.  I’m killing stage two. 

She immediately offered a refund.  I told her I didn’t want a refund, that I wanted dead bugs.  I told her I would try for another week, and call her back.  She said that the numbers decreasing was a good sign, that I probably started with one hatching--of thousands of them.  

I told her my name for the bugs was “Satan’s Spawn.”  She got a kick out of that and said she would recommend putting it on their containers.

Today, I am down to eight of them.  I killed them and haven’t had any more in the last four hours.  Maybe there is an end in sight? 

My friend Gayle in Edwardsville La. called me yesterday and said she would love to read the book (if it EVER comes out) but needs to know the name of it.  And that I should also give her the publisher.

“The Letter.”  Oklahoma publisher “Road Runner Press.”  I think I need all of my friends to pray they can find a printer.  Small companies are last in line with printers.  And the price of paper has almost doubled.  

But if you are like me, I like to hold a book.  I do Kindle as a last resort.

It is two in the afternoon and this is the first time I have been able to sit down to blog.

Squig has high liver enzymes---not good.  He was so sick I took him to the vet yesterday.  It’s one of two things.  The vet is treating him for one of them.  If he isn’t better by Monday, I’ll take him back for an ultrasound.  Which means it is probably the second thing which isn’t good.  He has been more chipper today, I’m praying.

But he is 14 years old.  Old for a Schnauzer.  I won’t put my head in the sand, but I am hoping for the best.  Pat called her friend Erica, a vet that occasionally works for “Vets without Borders” and explained Squig’s symptoms and Erica said to get the ultrasound.  I don’t want to know...but I will get it.

I got a text from my publisher.  I’m afraid to believe it.  A list of book stores she has lined up for sales.  What does that mean?  Is it for May of 22, or 23...?  Is there actually going to be a book...I hope everyone buys one so they can keep it on the market!  I just want people to read it.

Wednesday got away from me.  I didn’t even get out to get the paper today.  Stanley Steemer came, Squig went to the groomer, Craig came to plant asparagus (and brought the paper in).  I transplanted stuff to make room for the asparagus, and the day slipped away before I had even done the crossword puzzle.

My yard man broke his leg.  So I guess I won’t get all the projects done that I had planned for spring. 

I’ll try to do better tomorrow.  I seem to be getting more and more distracted anymore by all the things going on around me.  It must be spring.

I planted parsley--Ann will plant cucumbers and Scott is sending tomato plants.  So I can make tabouli all summer.  

If the wind will stop blowing, maybe things will grow.  The wind was 50mph over night.  Sweeping down the plains...

 The drain gnats have disrupted my life.  I can’t seem to remember to blog.  I finally got a specific drain gnat treatment from Amazon.  It is the consistency of thick jello.  You leave it in the drain over night and pour boiling water down the drain the next morning.  Then do it all over again.

They say insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result!  That's where I am.  Yesterday there were only a dozen or so little bugs so I guess that’s progress?  Jeanette ordered me a gallon of the stuff so I can keep going.  The instructions say that it could take up to four months.  This is not how I planned to use the spring of 2022.

These critters are the devil’s spawn. 

 None of the plumbers that I have contacted have ever dealt with this problem.  Or heard of it.  

My back up is prayer.  And boiling water.

I didn’t break my hip.  I tore a ligament.  I needed one more thing to deal with.  Rest is prescribed.  But I have to get down on my knees to pour the gooey stuff down the tub drain.  Which hurts.  

I can do it.  Four months...maybe.....

 I thought RAID had killed the gnats...but today, there are four or five that seemed to have survived.  I hope that the principle of “Survival of the Fittest” doesn’t mean that I have promoted a super breed of these little devils.  I am currently killing them one by one by drowning them in poison.  I’m going to win.  The question is when.

Becky Bacon (Pryor) has been here since Wednesday.  It has been awesome.  She is such a good friend.  She brought me four huge pans of yeast rolls from Kathy.  “Somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good.”  I’m singing that.  Kathy always baked me rolls when I lived in Pryor and that hasn’t stopped her just because I moved.  God bless her!!  

Becky Bacon was laughing at me because because I had my hand in the pan of rolls grabbing one as she came in my front door.  Ahhhh....  The next two or three rolls made it to the microwave for a few seconds to warm them up.

Ann picked us up and we went to breakfast and to the street sales afterward.  What a fun day.

I’ll get my act together next week about blogging I hope.  Right now, I’m eating rolls with raspberry jam.  Heavenly.