MORE SPINSTER BLISS

My days here at CS2 are slow and quiet, but very routine. I sleep until my tiny little brain tells me it's time to get out of the big girl sleigh bed, and then I start re-hydrating before my big a$$ cup of morning damn good.

If Rich is ushering or substitute teaching (like he was today...high school ceramics 🤭), I spend an hour or so reading my book. I'm about 3/4 of the way through Middlemarch, and enjoying it very much! I read slowly and savor every word. No annotating or notes, but I do feel like slowing down has greatly helped with my overall experience of visiting all of these classics.

Meal one is the same as it's been for a long while now: cottage cheese, blueberries, peaches, and pineapple with lots of water and a little Gatorade to wash it all down. De-hydration has been a huge problem with Louie, so I'm learning what things keep BellyBean safe and happy and plump without throwing everything out of whack.

Most of the mid-day hours are spent with coloring, and lately I've been enjoying monochrome coloring by way of Stll&Slow books. I usually complete one page a day before maximum relation state is achieved, and the effect it has on my handwriting (massive improvement) is wonderful!

Rich heads out to the balcony for some sports radio/cigar time and to call his mom for the daily check-in, and I usually head back to the big girl sleigh bed for a nice nap with my face in the sun that streams through the window.

Dinner has been simple things lately, and after the kitchen is clean and I've had a cool dark shower (*) it's stitchy time! And I ply needle and thread through whatever sports game is showing in the TeeVee, then one episode of Sopranos, one West Wing, and then it's time for bed.

If you've made it thus far without falling into a bored stupor at the sheer dullness of all things Spinster at the moment, I do apologize, but this seems to be exactly what the doctor ordered for getting me out of this darn flare up. I have to say, this one has completely humbled me, and dealing with it at this age and with Louie is very different than bulling my way through a flare up in my twenties at MachOne with my hair on fire.

But the thread that runs through this entire narrative is gratitude that I'm here to be living this boring yet beautiful life. Maybe slow and quiet isn't so bad after all, Dearies! I hope that your day is full of bliss today. What's keeping you slow and steady? Come tell me all about it!

 

AFTERNOON SPINSTER BLISS

A cold brew, my vat of ice water, and a gorgeous blueberry scone that my JB surprised me with in yesterday's grocery run!

I. Love. Scones.

Happy Tuesday, Dearies!

TIME TO MOVE THE Q-SNAPS

 Grateful Heart

The Scarlett House

FRIDAY SPINSTER BLISS

It's currently 57 degrees outside and cloudy, and I'm happily ensconced in the big grey chair for the duration, Dearies. Rich has just left for campus, where he will be until the late hours, so I am left without adult supervision.

Gird your loins!

I've got stitching, coloring, reading...both novel and news...and the Snoopy robe firmly in place, as well as my damn good, a vat of water, and the thoughts of scrambled eggs a little bit later.

(And there may or may not be an English muffin involved.)

It's Spinster Bliss Day here in Hoosierville! What day is it where you are?

SPINSTER...WE HAVE A PLAN

Dearies, today, on what would have been my mom's 93rd birthday, I think we might actually have a bit of a plan. It's not exactly what an impatient portly Spinster would wish for, but it's safe and will be slow and steady. So while I might not be able to be here full speed just yet...I'm happy to report that I have a nice wide lane in which to park my fanny, and I'm staying here. Prednisone is still on board for now and I will taper as symptoms calm down. Will start on biologic/Remicade as soon as possible. Ongoing surveillance of BellyBean and Louie as day to day vitals indicate. Any fever, pain, or other issues and I'm back at the Four Seasons (*) asap.

In the meantime, I am trying to function daily as best as I can, but fighting terrible terrible fatigue, brain fog, blurry vision, moon face, etc that keep me quiet and mindful of rest.

Done.

So here are the things that are keeping Yours Truly from coming out of her skin:

READING: 

COLORING:

STITCHING: 

My Jersey Boy has been substitute teaching and ushering his heiney off, so I feel happy that he is getting out into the beautiful sunshine and doing things he loves. His mom is happily settled into Villa Raffaella in NJ and is thriving there, so it is an enormous weight off of his (and my) mind and heart.

So all good and happy things, Dearies. Not yet 100%, but hopeful that we're going in a good direction

The love and support and cards and letters and notes and prayers and gifts overwhelm me in the most profound way possible....as they always have. I thank you for them. Truly. My night-time prayers of gratitude grow longer and longer, and your names are in them each and every time I offer them.

What's new with you? Are you having the most beautiful cool sunny days with big white puffy clouds in pretty blue skies like we are? I am finding my way out onto the balcony more and more with my basket (**), and sometimes I just sit and rock and watch the world go by.

Love you, Dearies! Do something fun and come tell me all about it!

(*) Four Seasons is Beacon Granger Hospital

(**) My basket is a felt diaper tote that Rich calls my House Purse. It holds my book, book light, journal, stitchy project, coloring book, pens, water bottle, etc...and I tote it from room to room like it's my job.

COMING SOON TO A BLOG NEAR YOU...

 

FIVE YEARS. THANK YOU, ANGEL.

 

DAMNIT GUMBY

I'm sorry, Dearies, but I will be amiss for a bit longer it seems. Another round of Prednisone started today, so I find that I must be where other people are not. Carry on, please. Our regular programming will resume shortly.

With love,

coni

ALL ABOARD THE CRAZY TRAIN!

They've started the Prednisone, Dearies, so I am going quiet for a bit to spare myself (and you) all of the drama that is me while on high dose steroids.

But before I go...a fabulous shower and hairwash, a freshly made clean bed, and a little tailgate party just for me here at the Four Seasons Hospital;

 See you on the other side! Cheers! ❤️

WELCOME TO THE FOUR SEASONS...SPINSTER STITCHER STYLE

 In the hospital with what we think is a Crohn's flare gone awry. I came to the Boogie ER on Wednesday night (a small standalone facility a minute away from CS2) and after 15 hours there they admitted me to their five-bed inpatient hospital right here in the same building.

(No, Betty, this isn't me neing a princess and spending a billion dollars to have room service. This is the same hospital that did my Louie surgery...just not the main one downtown that didn't have one single bed.)

(So bite me. I'm sick.)

I was feeling pretty poorly Wednesday morning and then got hit with the worst chills you can imagine, and then spiked a fever super fast. One car ride later and I'm hooked up to iv antibiotics, drinking enough ice water to float a barge, and under quarantine until they get all of the cultures back.

Ick.

But the BellyBean is clocking in with numbers indicating he's OK, and Louie is taking a clear liquid gut rest like a little champ and has only farted once in front of a nurse.

Alas, no stitching...but once my head clears a bit and I am feeling less like death I'll get back to it, I promise!

JB is doing his thing, and I have made him promise me to stay calm and do his thing. He feels bad that he's not here in a gown, mask, gloves, and whatever else crazy getup you need...but I'm just happy he's not im the visitor chair looking like he's going to pass out.

Of all the people in the world a super-phonic white coat symdrome sufferer gets stuck with...and it's me.

Talk amongst yourselves, Dearies. I'll be here with my iv pole doing my thing for a bit!! 

Cheers!

LABOR DAY 2026

 

PRE-GAMING. GO IRISH! ☘️

 

HAPPY WEEKEND, DEARIES!

 

 

SATURDAY

I've had some fairly good stitching sessions lately, and find myself getting closer and closer to another WiP finish. I confess that I was not at all excited about this when I fished it out of the basket. Not sure why...whether it was the fabric or the colors or....? But now that I have made it this far and have stepped back for an overview, I am actually pretty tickled with it:

I slept in a bit and got myself situated with my morning damn good, apple juice, water, and John Steinbeck, and before I knew it....I was reading the last words of the last page. Wow. This knocked me out, and I just want to sit with it rolling around in my tiny little brain a bit before I get on with the day:
 

I've been reading so much good stuff recently, that it makes me feel better about not getting my "school" subjects back together yet. If I keep going at this rate, I might just call it "the semester of Classics" and be done with it!

I'm supposed to be doing all of the chores today, but I might play hooky and just stay in the chair luxuriating in nothingness a bit longer. Doesn't that sound like a lot more fun than dusting and chasing the vacuum cleaner around?

Happy Saturday, Dearies! I hope your day is full of all of the things that make your heart sing! What are you up to today? Come tell me all about it!

THINGS THAT ARE MAKING ME STUPID-HAPPY ON A THURSDAY AFTERNOON IN HOOSIERVILLE

64oz insulated container that keeps ice water cold all day. (I drink about four of these daily!)

A re-chargeable tabletop fan for when I get overheated or just need to feel air on my face.

(Peeking from the back of the fan) Sage and Citrus Yankee Candle that I light when stitching.

My latest stitchy project in its little bag with everything I need at my fingertips.

A riveting Classic that has me looking forward to my reading time.

(Not pictured) A pasta salad that will be fantastic this weekend with grilled chicken.

AND THEN LOUIE SAID...HERE...HOLD MY BEER

WARNING: This post contains bodily functions. If you're triggered by them, please move on. But come back, because:

NOTICE: This is the last and final post about bodily functions on this here blog. Quite frankly...I'm as tired of writing about them as you are of reading about them. Our programming will soon return to stitching, bitching, and vague references to how completely unbelievably lovely Spinster life here in Hoosierville normally is.

When my puppy-tot nephew Bosco was a baby, I used to go over to my sister's house a few times a day to check on him and to take him outside for potty breaks. I don't think we ever went outside once, because invariably, I would arrive to find that he had decorated the entirety of his little nylon apartment/cage, his blankets, toys, and himself with enormous amounts of ... Bosco puppy poo.

I would gasp and start to get exasperated, but then I would see his little face peeking out and his little tail wagging (flinging the poo even further onto the sides of his apartment), and I'd grab the rubber gloves and Scrubbing Bubbles from under the sink, get a roll of paper towels out of the utility room, and go to work. By the time I was finished, everything was freshly scrubbed, Bosco was clean and in his little robe, and another trash bag was headed out to the bin. 

(Fortunately, for me, Bosco was a very fast learner, and this little adventure was fairly short-lived.)

(Stewey, of course, never ever once had any pooing issues. He was, oddly enough, terrified of anything that came from that region of his tiny little self, so he made his deposits outside and then promptly ran away from them as though they were a fireworks factory with a manager who liked to chain-smoke in the parking lot.)

Guess who decided to surprise me in the middle of the night Monday by taking off his bag and going freakin nuts in the big girl sleigh bed, on the sheets, the blankets, my pajamas, and himself?

I just can't with the gory details anymore, but suffice it to say, all day yesterday was a marathon of bawling, cursing, washing, scrubbing, disinfecting, fretting, showering, and medical supply ordering until I finally collapsed into the chair and realized that not one peep was heard from the little @#$&* all damn day. I went to bed terrified that he had a blockage and that I was going to have to head to the ER and possibly yet another visit with our beloved Dr Thompson. Needless to say...it was a long night. 

(But the entire bedroom practically sparkled right there in the moonlight because it (and your hapless heroine) had been sanitized to within an inch of our lives)

(Betty, before you come for me about how disgusting I am and how only animals sleep on be-spoiled mattresses, I'd like to point out that thanks to not one, not two, but THREE mattress toppers...the offending substances didn't come anywhere near anything other than me and the sheets and the blanket....two of which were immediately disposed of.)

(I blame myself entirely for this little goat rodeo, by the way. Every single video I watched and every single person I talked to said "get yourself a big box of waterproof pads to put under your sheets", but I said "Oh no...that will never happen to me", and I got exactly what I deserved.)

(Nurses call the "chucks" by the way, but I can't for the life of me figure out why.)

Today, Louie seems to be over his little hangover, and my step tracker thingie has congratulated me twice for "all of the steps and the little bit of jogging" I've gotten in trotting back and forth to the powder room. For the love of all that is holy, I swear I must be in some kind of science experiment, and what I think is CS2 is actually a controlled laboratory of a mad scientist who wants to see what else will take a portly yet lovable broken down well-meaning spinster to the brink of madness. 

Appointments will be taken both this week and next with all of the appropriate team members. I think I already know the cause of the mishap (too much stoma powder and the use of baby-type wipes), so we're back to doing what my ostomy nurse taught me instead of tips and tricks from Dr Google. 

So far, so good.

(I have not, however, ruled out the possibility that it was Stoma Night at the St Joe County Fair, and Louie found himself careening between the beer garden and the fried food stalls while simultaneously trying to win himself a little sombrero at the Shoot 'Em Up game.)

My mental health is happy and optimistic, but a bit frazzled. Rich comes home a week from today, and I want/need to get myself together so that we might attempt to have a more "normal" and peaceful homestead, instead of the raging dumpster fire where his recliner lives.

Progress continues on Coffee, and I am almost finished with East of Eden. God willing, I'll have a few days of quiet to enjoy both. 

What's terrorizing you at the moment? Come tell me all about it!

IN WHICH OUR HEROINE SHUTS UP, HAS A CUP OF DAMN GOOD, AND GETS ON WITH IT

 

TOO MUCH PONDERING FOR A THURSDAY...

 

My goodness...I need a cold brew! Dearies, this whole being a normal adult human being thing is for the birds, if you ask me. I seem to have fallen into another deep well, and my days and nights are all topsy turvy again with insomnia, overwhelming profound fatigue, and absolutely no strength.

Oey.

Louie is misbehaving, and I've about had it with the Polly Sunshine voice in my head that says..."Oh, Louie. You're so funny and unpredictable, and if I give you a silly little name and pretend like I'm some kind of stupid warrior, all will be well and we can write about it on our blog and everybody will praise me for being so clever and strong", but the truth is that this is just awful and most of the time I'd rather just go curl up into the fetal position and try to teleport myself into a completely different body that actually works and hasn't been giving me agita since the age of TWENTY GD FIVE. (*)

I mean...really, Big Guy? Thyroid cancer, Crohn's, diverticulitis, kidney disease, dialysis, kidney transplant, an emergency colectomy, and now a non-reversible colostomy. And that's not even mentioning the "head" stuff that an entire team of Dr Melfies couldn't figure out!

(As usual...I exaggerate for effect.)

(But I am going to go find the Book of Job and read it, because my Aunt JoAnn used to call me out of the blue and say "Coni Jo, if you ever feel like you're going to slide into any kind of self-pity, I want you to read the Book of Job and apologize to God for not being grateful for your blessings.)

(But this is also the woman who told my mother not to cry and to "stop that vomiting" as she was giving birth to me in the throes of a horrible delivery.)

(Which just confirms the fact that I have been a completely over-dramatic pain in the ass from the get go.)

Enough of that...

I am having an actual physical stamina and energy problem, along with a crushing amount of food anxiety. It took me the better part of fifty years to finally find a way of eating that is good for me, and along comes death lettuce, and death blueberries, and death beef, and death eggs, and...

For pity's sakes, kids. Can we please stop trying to kill the Spinster and just find a way to make her days just that much easier? I would, however, like to send a big fat THANK YOU to Canada, since my team tells me that anything grown in the greenhouses there is perfectly safe, and that I might also look at roasting vegetables rather than risking salads for a minute.

(Tonight's selection will include roasted sweet potatoes, shallots, carrots, green beans, and garlic with a burnt beyond recognition chicken breast...all peeled, diced, and chewed appropriately for YOU KNOW WHO.)

So forgive me, please, for a complete lack of discipline when it comes to writing to you on this here blog. The guilt, shame, and humiliation one feels for coming off like an ungrateful, spoiled, hateful little toad has my creativity in a cage for the moment, but the caffeine addled raccoon that is my interior monologue, is trying its dambdest to get the key.

I am stitching and reading (East of Eden) and watching all the things (just started a second run through of The Morning Show), but day to day here at CS2 is incredibly quiet for now. Fortunately, my Jersey Boy is still with his mom, so he only gets the brunt of it via telephone and texts sent in all caps. He'll be home eventually, I promise.

Cheers to one and all. I hope your Summer holiday is winding down in good fashion, and that you've done all of the things. Come tell me all about it...I'm here!

(*) James Joyce has nothing on MY stream of consciousness, I tell ya! I did finish Ulysses, by the way, and absolutely loved it! It was very much like the biggest rollercoaster at Cedar Point when I was a kid...I gritted my teeth through the whole thing and was pretty sure it was going to be the death of me, but as soon as I regained consciousness I couldn't wait to do it again!

 

STITCHING...WELL KINDA SORTA

While my stitchy mojo vacations somewhere wonderful (I hope), I am pulling things from the WiP basket and poking them with needle and thread. Here's the latest FeeNee:

I'm sorry that I cannot tell you anything about the fabric or thread choices, but I'm guessing that it's a 28ct somethingorother from Picture This Plus, and the threads appear to be silk. NPI or Gumnuts? I have absolutely no clue.

Note to Newbies...document/journal your stitching! I wish I would have done a better job of keeping track of details, so that I could have an actual record rather than relying on this here blog for information.

WELCOME TO SPINSTER ACRES...AN ASSISTED LIVING COMMUNITY

 My poor body is basically a condominium at this point.

In the left studio, lives an older gentleman named Mr Belly Bean. He is the original tenant of the complex, and has lived here in quiet dignity since September 30, 2021. He's lovely, and does not require much by way of upkeep, other than an inordinate amount of iced water and a scrupulous attention to the timing of his medication. Every day at 9am and 9pm, Mr Bean demands several different pills and tablets to be administered precisely to keep him feeling his best. He gets monthly labwork, watches his diet carefully, isn't too fussy when it comes to restrictions other than absolutely no colas, pomegranate, grapefruit, starfruit, and not too much salt, if you please, and generally minds his own business and does an excellent job of keeping his home clean and well-regulated. He visits with his medical team periodically, but always gets good reports and has quite an optimistic future.

The newest resident, who has come to reside in the western studio suite, is named Louie, and despite the fact that his move-in date was January 22, 2026, he still acts as though he is new to town and completely unaware of the rules and behavior expectations of his new neighborhood. Louie likes to party, which means his hours of activity are completely unpredictable. He's fussy, usually a complete mess, and he requires a closet-full of special gear just to make him happy, safe, and presentable for the day. He never acts according to plan, he can yell, sing, or make rude noises at the most inappropriate times, and despite the community having very strict codes of conduct, he ignores every single one of them and demands constant attention. He's often hungover, and despite being bathed several times a day and then swaddled in stupidly expensive attire, he is often times in excruciating pain that he feels compelled to share and complain about to the resident manager who is dangerously close to being out of Tylenol.

Louie and Mr Belly Bean haven't met, but their different lifestyles and dietary restrictions are causing a fair amount of consternation with staff. While maintenance/janitorial members are trying to figure out how to get Louie on the same page as everybody else, the dietary manager is ready to chuck her soup ladle out the window and just resort to protein shakes. Mr Bean has always enjoyed a balanced whole foods diet with lots of fresh fruits and vegetables, lean proteins, whole grains, and an occasional treat, but Louie doesn't seem to like anything. He had just started to figure out the whole salad with grilled chicken thing when the various plagues and infestations started, and safe options are becoming harder and harder to find. He does love sweets and unhealthy snacks, but Mr Bean objects when dinner becomes more of a thirteen-year old boy's dream binge (think pizza, Doritos, TastyKake, etc) so for now they are having to fight it out over cottage cheese plates and spaghetti.

The Assistant Resident Manager is taking a leave of absence to administer a family issue, so the General Manager is left to fend for herself. She can often be found trying to hide in her office with a book, a stitching project, and her flat screen television, but somehow both Louie and Mr Belly Bean are able to find her and force immediate attention be given. Were it not for her sincere dedication and lifetime contractural obligation to keeping Spinster Acres the premier retirement community in the big grey chair in the corner of the living room of CS2, she surely would have considered going elsewhere by now.

Life will continue on, and hopefully soon Louie will settle in and learn the ins and outs of living in community with Mr Bean and all of the other inhabitants, but thoughts and prayers in the meantime are greatly appreciated!

A good day is wished for you all! I hope that your own little community is exactly as you want it to be! Come tell me all about it!

WEEKEND...WITH A GIGGLE