Jun 30, 2020

Jun 29, 2020


Lots of sleeping, stitching, Yellowstone watching, and good food eating.  A perfect weekend!,

Jun 27, 2020


My goddaughters are both engaged!

Jacqueline is the oldest, and will marry Blake:

And Sara, the youngest, will marry Steve:

My friends Denise and Jeff created two of the most perfect women on the planet. They are smart, beautiful, happy, healthy, lovely, talented people, and like their mother, picked good and decent men to make into perfect husbands.

God bless and keep them all.

Aunt Coni is so very happy.

Jun 26, 2020


I'm up and getting ready for the d-chair, Dearies! When my peepers sprung open this morning, I was flooded with a feeling of Friday happiness. Two whole days coming up to do nothing but stitch!

Yesterday was a lot more productive than I would have thought, but I zonked out pretty hard on the couch at 6pm and stumbled into the big girl sleigh bed shortly after 10. My stamina level is just so very low that any activity seems to wear me right out.

But! All of the laundry is done, folded, and put away and I tidied up pretty well in anticipation of the Cottage Care team arriving today to scrub. Having them come in is an indulgence, I know, but keeping things clean and sanitized around here is more important than ever, and I need to stop feeling guilty for being a kidney patient and just move on.

Amazon brought a happy surprise...Siggy jars!

When I was a kid, my mom (named Sig) always had big glass jars of snacks on the kitchen counter. I think they were filled with Stella Doro breakfast treats (the s-shaped ones) and Snyder's hard pretzels, but I'm sure there was other stuff too. Anywhoose...I filled ours with some of the stuff from the Costco that has been sitting on the dining room table.

Surprisingly, I have been very good about staying out of them. I don't think an occasional biscotti will kill me, and the rest of it doesn't really tempt me too much. Besides...this just looks like love to me!

In between laundry loads and re-watching Yellowstone episodes, I did put a few stitches into
Hoity Toity yesterday. I'm going to complete the background of that band going across and then switch to something else, I think. No idea what yet, but that's what tomorrow's romp through the cube room studio is for!

Happy, happy Friday, Dearies! I really hope you are all safe and well and peaceful and happy. Do something fun and come tell me all about it! I'm unplugging for the weekend so I'll see you Monday!

Jun 25, 2020


It's not quite 7am and my Jersey Boy is on his way home to see his mom.  I packed him a cooler big enough to feed a small family of bears, wished him Bon Voyage, and sent him on his way.

There is a big long list of "projects" that I hope to complete while he is away, but if I'm honest, I am really looking forward to indulging in all of the secret spinster behavior that has been absent of late.

(Nothing too juicy, I'm afraid. It involves tweezers and nail polish and callus remover and a lot of talking out loud to myself...pretending to be Ina....or Martha....as I putter about the apartment doing this or that.)

I did promise myself, however, that there will also be lots of time set aside for stitching. My lack of time spent with needle and thread is really bothering me, but I suspect that the solution is rather simple: get my eyes checked so I can stitch AND see the TeeVee at the same time. My up-close prescription has apparently changed quite a bit, since I find myself doing anything near like reading or stitching with my naked eyeballs. This isn't a problem, but it means I can't see anything beyond eight inches in front of my face, and let's face it, Kevin Costner in a cowboy hat must be given full eyeball attention.

Yup. We fell down the Yellowstone rabbit hole, and I am obsessed. It took me a minute, but I finally figured out why I love it so...it's basically The Sopranos.

With cows.

If you don't like violence...you might want to skip this one, Dearies. Life on the largest cattle ranch in the country is not for the faint of heart.

But then again, there's Kevin Costner.

In a cowboy hat.

With cows.

My day has started. The agenda includes laundry, food prep, and planning. I need to break out my date book again and get stickering! There's not been much to record, but it seems a huge waste of crafty time not to sit and scribble in it and make it pretty.

Hoity Toity and I are going to have a looooong play date today as soon as everything is done. There was a tiny bit of progress, but nothing to blow your skirt up:

Happy Thursday, Dearies! I hope your corner of the world is wonderfully swell today and that you get to do whatever your heart desires. Never fear on this front...I've got my damn good for sustenance, Wint-o-green LifeSavers for the nausea (thank you nanapops!), and Stewey supervising it all.  Cheers!

Jun 24, 2020

Jun 23, 2020



I am in my freshly laundered Happy Chair with my damn good and morning paper, and am trying to get my tiny little wits about me.

The nice men from MasterCare came and shampooed the carpets, the Happy Chair, and the sectional yesterday, and I am happy to report that it brought about an enormous peace of mind.  Now all I need to do is wash the walls with some Scrubbing Bubbles (oh, please work), and methinks the soot problem might be well behind me.

No stitching to report, unfortunately. My treatment left me a bit fuzzy-headed and all I was able to do when I got home was look at the walls and the TeeVee. Today's hangover isn't too terribly bad, so I should be able to get on with it in short order.

Happy Tuesday, Dearies! I hope you are all safe and happy and well and that your heart is light and full of fun. Come tell me all about it!

Jun 22, 2020


I love it when my nails match my outfit!

Made it to the left edge with moteefs...now it's time to fill in the black background!

Happy Monday, Dearies! I hope you had a splendid weekend and that you're raring to go. I am going to do my very best to get back on the weight loss wagon this week....Magoo leaves for New Jersey on Wednesday, so hopefully I can focus on getting this covid pounds off while he's gone!

Jun 19, 2020



Steaks, corn on the cob, and tomato salad for dinner last night. Mine is on the left...cherry tomatoes, English cucumbers, red onion, and feta cheese. Magoo's is on the right...slicing tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, and a dash of basil. Both lightly dressed with balsamic and salt and pepper.

This Hoosier girl made corn on the cob in the microwave for the first time and it was life changing. I peeled the outer layers of husk away and put four ears directly on the turntable for twelve minutes. Then I cut the bottoms off and pushed the perfectly cooked ears out of the husks minus silks! A little butter and salt and pepper and we were very happy indeed.

The steaks were ribeyes and seared in cast iron on the stove top and then finished in a hot oven...restaurant style. Pretty tasty!

I'd love to tell you that we sat down like civilized people and ate at a properly set table, but the truth of the matter is that we parked ourselves in front of the TeeVee and watched Yellowstone like a couple of heathens.

Hoity Toity and I spent a fair bit of time yesterday, but as usualI forgot to take a picture. I'll get better, Dearies...I really will.

Well, that's it for me on a d-chair Friday. I am going to unplug again this weekend, so I will bid you a fond adieu and send my best wishes for a very happy weekend!. 

Jun 18, 2020


I had one thing to do today.

A video chat with Dr Melfi at 1:00.

But the video chat wasn't at 1:00. It was at 10:00. And guess who was snoring in the big girl sleigh bed at 10:00 because she wrote 1:00 in her calendar and didn't realize the mistake until Dr Melfi sent a lovely note asking if  was OK or if I had finally dropped the basket entirely.


My new sippy cup sleeve and the description of such was confusing, apparently. When I lived at Chez Spinster, I used large big mouth mason jars fot drinking glasses. I have no idea why I did this, other than the fact that I spied them at the Rural King during one of our excursions there, and it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Now, though, it turns out that these are the perfect sippy cups for me because they have measurements on the side and I can monitor my ounces better for dialysis.

(I am supposed to limit my fluid intake to no more than 32oz, plus whatever I naturally eliminate.)

Oh...sorry. TMI.

The jars are 32oz, so I am able to fill one up and then sip it throughout the day (plus more or less depending on...you know...and they are glass and able to get sterilized in the dishwasher without getting funny tastes or smells in them.

But...as I mentioned yesterday, the condensation was a problem, as was the fact that they are no insulated. And finding a sleeve to fit them was difficult since they are large and square.

But thanks to the amazons...viola' :

The sleeve does go all the way to the tippy top, so at first I thought I would have to use a straw, but it turns out you can roll it down a bit and drink directly from the glass without a problem.

Today will be a stitchy day for me, and I think I will play with Hoity Toity a bit more. I put her back in her sleeping bag to watch The Last Jedi with Magoo last night, but the little bit I did complete was very enjoyable.

Happy Thursday, Dearies! I hope your neck of the world is wonderful today and that your skirts are blowing up with fun. Come tell me all about it!

Jun 17, 2020


Treatment was rough, but I made it home and into the Happy Chair with a cold brew damn good, Game of Thrones, and Hoity Toity:

And happy happy mail! I bought a case of the large wide mouth mason jars to drink from, but the condensation and resulting  puddles were driving me nuts. Look what I found on the amazons:

This is just sippy cup perfection! Today the cold brew is homemade. Dunkin cold brew, a splash of creamer, and a tiny little bit of sugar free vanilla syrup. Not exactly as perfect as a Starbucks, but almost!

Red Robin for dinner tonight. Magoo is having a big fat juicy cheeseburger and I am having a grilled chicken Southwest salad. (heavy sigh) I have gained quarantine weight, so I need to get back on top of things...now. I came off of the scale at 113kg, so that means salads and Greek yogurt again until I get back to 110kg post-treatment. It won't take very long and definitely won't kill me. I just need to sit up in the buggy a bit and stop making silly choices.

Happy Futzingday, Dearies!


Jun 15, 2020


My experiment worked, Dearies!

Last Friday morning, my tiny little brain was positively screaming at me to just stop. Stop the noise. Stop the manic flitting from site to site. Stop the stupid need to blather on every six minutes about me me me me me me.

By Saturday morning, I found myself sitting on the balcony with a book, the paper, and my damn good, and I actually felt...quiet. The birds were chirping, the sun was shining, and the big fat white puffy clouds were doing their thing in a gorgeous blue sky and I drank in every bit of it.

Yesterday was much the same, but I observed and rested from the big girl sleigh bed instead. Again...quiet. And peaceful. And exactly what I needed, apparently, because today dawned bright and early and I was ready for it.

I did stitch a fair bit, but alas, forgot to snap any photos. Suffice it to say that Baked Alaska is nearing the half-way mark and once she does, I will swap her for something else.

My Jersey Boy will travel back to New Jersey next week, so I am already contemplating my projects to keep me busy and out of trouble. I really want to concentrate on the cube room studio and clear/purge it of all of the stuff I'm not actively playing with.

Then...if I have any energy left at all, I'm going to attempt to start the garage. It's packed full of everything from Chez Spinster, and it is time for me to pull up my emotional big girl britches and let it all go. It's been three years now. Time to send the stuff where it can be loved and used.

So that's the report for a lovely Monday.  I hope your weekend was wonderful and that your week ahead is full of fun! Come tell me all about it!

Jun 12, 2020

I'm unplugging for the weekend, Dearies!  See you on Monday! Have a splendid weekend!


Remember when my dear dad told me to read that damn book because he thought it might help me accept and embrace change? And remember how one of my prayers each night is to ask for the ability to just be present and go with the flow?


I'm back at my normal dialysis clinic today, Dearies.

As I was finishing treatment yesterday downtown, they got word that all three of my covid tests had come back negative....thank goodness!

We still don't know what is causing the nausea and fever, but my family doc is on the case, and if anybody can solve it, she can. I have trusted her with my life and health for over 20 years now, and I am super grateful for her excellent care.

Zofran is my ally, as is ginger ale and peppermint tea. I would love to tell you that I have only been able to eat broth and soda crackers, but...um....let's just say my appetite is perfectly fine and leave it at that.

Baked Alaska and I are getting along much much better now that the frog has hopped back on his lily pad.

The curved blue section on the lower left was off by one stitch in the bottom row and it threw the entire thing off. So out it came and I will re-stitch it tonight. My plan is to complete this section, thus making the piece halfway finished, and then I think I will rotate to something else.

On a quick housekeeping note...does anybody know how I can add a thingy to this here blog so that you can subscribe to it and get updates? I've had this request, but can't figure out how to do it. 

Happy, happy, happy Friday!!  We're heading into the weekend like a herd of turtles! I hope you can do something that makes your heart sing and your skirt blow up. Come tell me all about it!

Jun 11, 2020


It's 6:00 in the morning and I am in the d-bed letting Buzzy do his thing, and you know what?

I like doing this so early.

(Pause for reaction).

I also like the fact that the techs here seem to have a different technique, because there was zero pain both days, with both needles. I have asked them to please call my home tech, Miss M to tell her what they did differently so I can stop passing out over there.

The quiet of o' dark hundred is also perfect for me. On my normal days, I seem to wake up to noise and chaos, and then I drive to the treatment center through traffic and then wait in a loud lobby and enter a crazy loud and chaotic pod.

Who knew? Apparently my tiny little brain needs quiet.

Maybe it's a matter of age...maybe this whole being a patient thing...or maybe it's just world circumstances at the moment. All I know is that sometimes the screaming in my brain is enough to drive me nuts.

So in the interest of keeping me sane, methinks I might try to consciously uncouple from noise for a bit. Unpug, de-escalate, and breathe.


Dearies, if you would, please say a little prayer for my friend Alan. He passed away yesterday after a fifteen year battle with MS. Alan was my first love...my first hard crush. He was the big brother of my best friend, Valerie, and I spent my entire youth batting eyelashes at him. He was handsome and funny and sweet and...completely not interested in the dopey, moony-eyed chubby girl who practically lived at his house. We did become friends later in life, and I am happy to report that I was able to tease him that I was the girl he should have married.

He agreed.

I hope your day is everything you want it to be...quiet and happy or crazy and full of fun. Do whatever blows your skirt up and come tell me all about it!

Jun 10, 2020


I am finally one of the one percent, but it isn't the one percent I had hoped for.


My name is Coni Rich, PLS class of 1989. I live in Granger, IN (about ten minutes from campus), and I am presently retired and undergoing dialysis treatment while waiting, hoping, and praying for a kidney transplant.

The one percent reference is to my immune status and how I fall into the category of people for whom the coronavirus will be deadly if contracted. Under normal circumstances, dialysis treatment is invasive, scary, uncomfortable, and confining. With the virus in play, however, we now don protective gear and then diligently try to avoid any/all human contact for the foreseeable future.

My fellow PLS alums, I'm sure, have turned to serious contemplation of the larger themes of life and are relying on their close reading of significant texts to help them navigate these waters.


I turn, as I always did, to fiction.

My first reaction was to devour the stack of novels checked out of the library, and then I started scouring the shelves of my apartment for favorites from years gone by. I re-read a few and discovered others that were never read, and happily gathered several that had been long forgotten.

I've spent the better part of thirty years feeling very embarrassed that I cannot adequately quote, remember, or explain Kierkegaard or Milton or Plato or Locke. And every year I promise myself that I will return to the texts and "learn" them once and for all. 

But it occurs to me that "learning" them and actually "living" them...especially during a time of unprecedented chaos...just might be one and the same. 

Life now (for me, anyway) is a constant contemplation of love and hate, of health and sickness, of control and surrender. It's mostly, though, a contemplation of faith. There's humility and sacrifice and fear to be sure, but underlying it all is a sense of calm that is based upon this rock-solid foundation of the "something" that is in all of those books on my shelf -- both fiction and non-fiction alike. There's something very comforting in the fact that far greater minds than mine have written and read these questions and answers for centuries. And, fortunately for me, they are as present in the novel as they are in the essay. 

I suppose the literary purist would demand that I qualify the TYPE of novel that brings insight, but even a lighthearted book that brings nothing but escape has value to me at the moment.

Maybe I learned more than I realized?

My own writing is casual and about the daily life of a portly spinster who loves needlework, but in my own way, I think I am still trying to answer the same questions I did so long ago. My blog might not address an existential crisis in society or examine the real meaning of the greater good, but it does connect me to like-minded souls. And that connection is life-changing and life-saving, especially while in quarantine.

Thanks to this project, I've just spent a few minutes looking at my "PLS" shelves, and pulled my dog-eared copy of Don Quixote. I remember the absolute joy it brought me so very long ago. It will be interesting to see what the passing years have added to my reading of it, and how life has influenced what I will take away from the pages this time.

May God bless and keep you all during this time. Thank you for the opportunity to contribute, and for reminding me how fortunate I am to be part of the PLS family.

Sent from AOL Mobile Mail


Added after reading all of your comments...

Dearies, I hope I didn't fumble the ball here.  I posted this essay from a fellow alum because I wanted to demonstrate how freakin SMART my classmates were and how my brain works so completely differently.  I promise you that the person who wrote it actually thinks like that as though it's second nature...eloquent...intelligent....amazing.  So you can imagine what it was like to walk into the lounge while a discussion like that was happening and a chubby co-ed comes in with her Jackie Collins novel and says "Hi, Everybody! What's for lunch?"

I have been a bit of a "mascot" my whole life, and it's a role I have learned to embrace. In high school, my circle of friends were smart and beautiful. I was funny and had a car.

So don't worry that my inferiority complex is in overdrive because of the essay request. I have finally grown into myself a bit and am so very grateful that I had the opportunity to be part of that major at a school that never should have accepted me in the first place.

Life has been, continues to be, and will be wonderful for Yours Truly, so if I went to the wrong school or was accepted into the wrong major...joke's on them because, in the immortal words of Charlie Sheen, I. Am. Winning!

I was a Great Books major at Notre Dame.  To be honest, I think I went that route because I figured it would be the best way to prepare for law school. Turns out, it was three years of 42 ridiculously brilliant people...and me...studying and reading and discussing and writing about things I still don't understand.

We received a letter from the Chair of the department recently asking us to contribute essays about our experience during this pandemic and how our education has impacted our thinking...how has the reading of certain texts given us perspective, etc.

So I sat down and started writing, but realized there was an attachment that was an example of an essay submitted from another alum of the program. I'm sorry that I can't credit it properly, but here is what he wrote:

After weeks of quarantine in New York City and after a long week of solitary overworking, I spent a Sunday thinking about the absurdity of life during the Coronavirus crisis. I said to myself, “I am Sisyphus.” I recalled Camus’ The Myth of Sisyphus, his essay on “l’absurde.” Camus writes:

“Sisyphus is the absurd hero. ... At the very end of his long effort ... the purpose is achieved. Then Sisyphus watches the stone rush down in a few moments toward that lower world whence he will have to push it up again toward the summit. ... It is during that return, that pause, that Sisyphus interests me.”

I did not remember that the essay famously begins with the line “There is but one truly serious philosophical problem, and that is suicide.” I did not turn to Camus for consolation of that nature. I did not read the essay for his dissection of Kierkegaard’s leap. I wanted to remind myself that absurdity, feeling at odds with the world around me, is a natural condition. Awareness of that condition is lucidity.

“If I were a tree among trees, a cat among animals, this life would have a meaning or rather this problem would not arise, for I should belong to this world. I should be this world to which I am opposed by my whole consciousness and my whole insistence upon familiarity.”

In isolation, even if with the people I adore, I found myself craving familiarity, but not the familiarity of the workaday world, the path “easily followed most of the time.” I wanted my friendship routines back and all the things I once took for granted. I was weary from trying to exempt myself from thought—do my work, bake bread, cook, drink wine, sleep.

“But one day the ‘why’ arises and everything begins in that weariness tinged with amazement. ... Weariness comes at the end of the acts of a mechanical life, but at the same time it inaugurates the impulse of consciousness. ... Just as there are days when under the familiar face of a person, we see as a stranger one we had loved months or years ago, perhaps we shall come even to desire what suddenly leaves us so alone.”

Camus counsels us to embrace each human experience, to remain lucid even when (perhaps most importantly) the experience is unpleasant:

“All man has is his lucidity and his definite knowledge of the walls surrounding him. ... I must admit that struggle implies a total absence of hope (which has nothing to do with despair), a continual rejection (which must not be confused with renunciation), and a conscious dissatisfaction (which must not be compared to immature unrest.)”

At the end of the essay, Camus presents us with Sisyphus’ “silent joy.” His absurd hero does not “cling too tightly to memory,” let the “call of happiness become too insistent,” or let his rock itself become “melancholy arising in his heart.” Rather,

“At each of those moments when he leaves the heights and gradually sinks toward the lairs of the gods, he is superior to his fate. ... His fate belongs to him. His rock is a thing. ... The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man’s heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.”

And I am.


I'll pause for a few minutes here to give you some time to ponder how that writer and I could have possibly come from the same place.

I swear...I went to school. And I promise you they gave me a diploma and everything. I was there. The diploma came in a nice blue cardboard frame and I had a white thingie that hung on my hat and we wore rented gowns and it was hot and I was sweaty and missing my mom and then we went to eat.

But I read that, and then I read my drivel on this here blog and I realize that I am definitely the poop in the proverbial punchbowl when it comes to proudly representing my Alma Mater and the program from whence I came.

This guy wrote eloquently about the greater meaning of life and suffering and Camus (did we even read Camus?) and other crap that just makes my head hurt.


I write about dog pee and making things with thread.

Don't cry for me, Argentina. I'm not looking for sympathy or reassurance. As Meg says in You've Got Mail (another pop culture reference that would probably make my former professors want to smack me again) "I lead a valuable life. Valuable, but small."

Rich thinks I should contribute an essay, and I probably will. But I can guarantee it won't be in any way related to Camus. 

(Note to self...you really gotta go check that guy out.)

Let's just hope it's not about dog pee.

Jun 9, 2020


Well, I made it. I was a little worried at first because nobody was here when I arrived, but after patiently waiting a half hour, they finally turned the lights on, opened the door, and ushered me in.

This is where folks come for nocturnal dialysis...7:30pm to 3:30am. Thus, I am ensconced in a bed instead of a chair.

Everything else is the same, though, and Buzzy is behaving very nicely after going so long in between treatments.

I did nicely, too, and somehow managed not to gain any weight. Don't ask me how I did that, especially since one would have predicted at least seven or eight pounds of fluid gain, but I'm not going to get too gloat-y over that, since missing treatment is a very bad thing indeed.

OK...time to settle in and read for a bit, I think. I am about halfway through Sue Monk Kidd's "The Book of Longings" and am still wondering about it. Premise....Jesus has a wife named Ana and this is her story of wanting to be a writer.

My gosh...what would Sister Mary Assumpta say about THAT!!

Thank you for the kind comments about the balcony. My JB is very happy to sit out there each afternoon puffing away and listening to the sports radio or Bruce Springsteen.  I am determined to get out there more often with some damn good and the paper, or maybe even for an occasional dinner al fresco.

Oh...and thank you for putting up with my beastliness lately. I have no excuse, but know that worry, fear, and change is usually a recipe for disaster for me.

Happy.....Tuesday, I think. I hope you will do something fun and come tell me all about it!

Jun 8, 2020



Continued from previous post.....

I swear, you can't make this stuff up.  Without giving you the tick-tock, suffice it to say that I finally got the labs drawn after FIVE attempts to do so, and am now on a first name basis with everybody at the South Bend Clinic Day Road campus, including the IT guy who couldn't believe what a complete "cluster" (his word, not mine) that my life has been for the last six days.

You know what the best part is?

The lab that my doc needed drawn was a CBC...a complete blood count.

Guess what?


Breathing deeply now.

The balcony is finally complete:

 And I am slowly but surely adding houseplants to CS2:

And now, Dearies, I am going to sit quietly and stitch until 7:30, when it will be time for me to go to bed so I can get up in the middle of the night to go to dialysis downtown South Bend.



I'm not going to do it.


Not going to.

I'm not going to give in to the crazy chaos that has been trying to bite me in the rumpus this morning.

I awoke at the heiney crack of dawn, took my shower, brushed my teeths, etc, and headed out into the hinterlands for my second covid test and labwork. The plan was to get this all done, receive a negative result from Friday's covid test and chest x-ray and head to dialysis for treatment.


After waiting in the drive through line (next to an enormous sign that said "WAIT HERE TOR COVID TESTING") for about forty minutes, a security guard came over and told me that the covid testing line was at the back of the building.

(Insert expletives here, but only silent ones, because God forbid I act like one of the ill-bred heathens from last week.)

So I smile and wave my thanks and head to the back of the building.

When the nurse came out to gather my information, I explained that I had appointments for covid testing and labwork and she explained that the lab people weren't there today.

(More expletives.)

(But again...only silent ones.)

So she shoved the q-tip up my nose and then told me that results would be back in seven to nine days, not in the twenty four to forty eight hours they said on Friday.


From there, it was a very quick drive to dialysis, but I was met outside by one of the nurses with a torch and pitchfork (OK, maybe not really, but it certainly felt like that), and she very apologetically explained that I could not come in until I had two negative covid test results returned and verified by the health department, a papal blessing, seven forms of picture id, evidence of penance, and a receipt from the car wash that I had been cleaned and sanitized.

"I haven't had treatment since last Wednesday", I replied. "Isn't that eventually going to kill me?"

At which point she shrugged her shoulders and said "Hey, kid...you've had a nice ride. We all have to go sometime" and walked back inside.

(OK, so maybe that last part was just to see if you're still paying attention.)

Looks like I will be going downtown South Bend tomorrow morning at 5:30 and will have my d-chair treatments there for the foreseeable future.

In the meantime, I still need to figure out how to get the labwork done, since my family doc has called twice in the last ten minutes wanting to know if it's done yet.

La dee da, la dee da, la dee da.

I'm going to take my damn good, my book, and my stitching out to the bird chirping concert and will just pretend like this is a normal Monday.

How's your day going so far?

Jun 6, 2020


Today marks twelve years of this here blog, and I've been weepy all morning thinking about the profound change it has made to my happy little life.  Thank you, Dearies.  I am utterly, completely, and deeply grateful that it and you are such an important part of me.

Jun 5, 2020


I did not find the test for coronavirus to be at all unpleasant, painful, scary, or invasive. The doctor told me to take my mask off and stuck a q-tip up my nose. He didn't poke my brain out with a stick and it didn't make me gag or bleed or pass out. It made my nose tickle a very little bit and my eyes tear...but not enough to even notice.


If you are supposed to get the test but are afraid of it, please don't be. It literally takes seconds and could save you or someone you love a lot of trouble, and getting a negative result will give you peace of mind.


If I make it through this blog post without dropping several expletives, I might need a medal or something.

First of all, let me be perfectly clear.

I am, and continue to be, in perpetual awe of people on the front line of this crazypants virus, as well as anybody who has the job of keeping us safe and alive.

But the rest of the universe?

An enormous pain in my heiney.

I had my video appointment with my family doc's nurse practitioner. Her name is Almira and I love her.

There. I said it out load.

Almira said she doesn't think I have coronavirus, but there is obviously something going on to cause me to be unwell.

I'm not going to bore you with the details, but suffice it to say, I spent the entire afternoon putting a bra back on, getting in my car, waiting in line, and going back and forth to the medical center to try to get a chest x-ray, labwork, and a urinalysis.

It was a ginormous NOPE on all of it due to people being stupid, the radiology department getting infected by a positive patient, and the line being long enough that we missed the last lab pickup of the day.


The docs and nurses and security guards at the facility (the South Bend Clinic on Day Road in case anybody wants to know) were all 100% excellent, calm, and ON. POINT.

And they were 100% excellent, calm, and ON POINT in ninety degree heat, in a parking lot full of screaming people in cars, and in full protective gear.

If these people are not receiving combat pay....there's something wrong someplace.

Was I aggravated that I spent several hours trying to get tests done and that I don't feel good and am worried and doing my level best not to go over the fret waterfall?


But I am also acutely aware that people behaving badly, while understandable, is just not cute anymore.

What the woman in the white Escalade thought she was going to accomplish by screaming profanity out her window at the security officer directing the traffic is beyond me. Or why the guy ahead of me had to flip the bird at the nurse who handed him a mask? Or why the asshat behind me decided to lay on his horn because I was waived through since I wasn't getting swabbed, but the door to the lab was only accessible through the swab line, or...

Idiots, every single one of them.

Inconsiderate, entitled, stupid, jerky, nasty, ill-mannered idiots.

Harsh, I know, but I was so frustrated by my inability to fix it, that all I could do was try to be as gushy and grateful as I could when it was my turn and then take a deep breath when I realized I was going to have to do this all over again tomorrow and Monday.

So I will get up tomorrow morning and put my bra on and go for a chest x-ray. I am not going to go to the emergency dialysis treatment center at 5:00 in the morning, because I am not risking exposure if it turns out I have a simple sinus infection.

Then, on Monday, I will put my bra on again and will get the second covid test and the labwork and hopefully all will be well and I will go back to regular dialysis on Wednesday.

That's the plan, anyway, and unless something else throws a wrench in the monkey works, I'll be here in my Costco pajamas happily and calmly stitching away.

Now I really am going to put this iPad thingie away. I need to go de-people myself for a bit.

I hope and pray that your weekend is happy, peaceful, calm, stitchy, and healthy!


No d-chair for me today, Dearies, but I did manage to get covid tested and am now home and comfy in my new Costco jammies (*).I will receive a call from the d-chair nurse telling me where to go tomorrow for treatment....they have a special d-chair facility set up downtown South Bend for PUV's...patients under investigation. Then, I will have second covid test on Monday and if both come back negative, I can return to my regular d-chair later in the week.

Turning off for the weekend, I think.


(*) $19.99 for a set of FOUR pieces...tank, shorts, capris, and t-shirt! All in 100% cotton with lovely details like drawstrings and pockets!!!  (WooHoo!)

Jun 4, 2020


Scenes from a very quiet and happy Thursday that fixed whatever ailed me:

 This was lunch. A chicken and Swiss cheese wrap and white cheddar Lay's Poppables.

(All from Costco. I discovered InstaCart and am now completely obsessed).

(We had Costco meatloaf and mashed potatoes tonight, but ate it before I thought to take a photo).

(It was delicious!)

And I finished another two sections of Baked Alaska:

I'm sad to report that the nausea and fever returned this afternoon, so I have an appointment with my family doc after dialysis tomorrow and am getting tested for the covid virus on Monday.


Time for bed, Dearies.  Night night and sweet dreams!


As God is my witness, Dearies, I have absolutely no idea what happened to me yesterday. 

I was sitting in the good fountain chair and minding my business when a feeling of rage started to bubble up inside me.  It's like everything was a complete bother all of a sudden and the noise and the pain and the discomfort and...everything...sent me over the proverbial edge.

Rather than look at the puffy clouds on the drive home I ranted at the traffic and punched the radio off.

I stopped for my cold brew treat and didn't engage in my usual pleasant banter with my barista friend. I just said thank you and drove on and then cursed myself for indulging on a Wednesday.

By the time I stomped up the steps I knew something was decidedly wrong and wondered if I was having a stroke. Five minutes of conversing with my beloved JB sent me into a full-on raging Incredible Hulk imitation, so I decided to take drastic action and put myself to bed.

That didn't really work either, because I couldn't get myself to sleep, so I threw off the magic nap blanket and stomped around the apartment while poor JB fled to the balcony for safety and a cigar.

Leftover bar-b-que ribs for dinner....some more stomping....and then I seemed to hit some kind of wall of exhaustion, so I went to bed at 9:00 and stayed there until moments ago.

I seriously have no earthly idea what the heck that was, but it has left me tired and completely fuzzy headed this morning/afternoon. It was a fritz-out of the first degree, I think, and not something I am keen to repeat any time soon.  The thought that I could have that much "ick" buried inside my pitiful little soul when I have such a good life makes me very...ashamed.

But something needed to come out.  That's for sure.

Today there is absolutely nothing on the agenda except stitching and quiet. JB has gone to play the golfing, and I am going to enjoy the peace and quiet of a happy Thursday.

I hope your day is exactly as wonderful as you want it to be! Come tell me all about it!

Jun 3, 2020



Well, here we are in the fountain chair again, Dearies. My normal chair (and the one I prefer) is over in the corner and away from the rest of the world, but alas, it is not available today.

(One of the things that I intend to fix when I am in charge of this place is to keep some sense of routine and consistency. This constant change business is very...troublesome.)

(That, and I'm going to fire the stupid social worker who insists on conducting private assessments right out here in front of God and everybody else.  It drives me batshit crazy to be privy to significantly personal information about my podmates, and I really don't need to reveal all of my inner workings to them either.)

(That's what Dr Melfi is for.)

(Speaking of...yes...I am still visiting with her regularly via video chat. It's actually wonderful to be able to sit in the big girl sleigh bed in my pajamas and tell her all of my crazy.)

We fell off of the diet wagon hard last night and had Five Guys cheeseburgers, but my nurse informed me today that a cheeseburger is actually an excellent source of protein, so I shouldn't be too concerned about enjoying one every now and then.  Go figure.

I do, however, need to see that scale start to move again, if for nothing else than the good feeling it brings. I think I finally realized that all I need to do is remind myself that eating well is the only thing I have to do in  day. That's it. Make good choices and go to bed feeling like a rock star instead of a baked potato.

I'm sorry that I keep forgetting to take progress pics of Baked Alaska. I tend to stitch in the evenings and then head to bed, and I haven't yet put taking a pic into my night night routine. 

(I do, however, still pat Stewey in his box and say "Night night, my little prince. Mommie loves you.")

(See crazy and visiting Dr Melfi above.)

I hope that your Futzingday is very futzy and that you get to do all the things. My only agenda is to try to stay conscious here in the d-chair (which has been a big problem lately) and to eat a nice salad for dinner.

What's futzing with you today? Come tell me all about it!

Jun 2, 2020

Jun 1, 2020


Results from the weekend on Baked Alaska:

Off to the d-chair, Dearies!  Happy Monday!