an update from lefty-ville

Hi friends. Did I mention how grateful I am for blog friends? This seems like a good time. I'm grateful always but that extra support when you need it the most can't be beat.

Aunt of Sophanne had surgery yesterday. This link will take you to an illustrated picture of what she's got going on in the world of biomedics. If you want a ghoulish real flesh photo, google "wrist jack" and search images and you can see it "in the flesh" so to speak. Thankfully hers is wrapped and we can't see the exact places where "the rubber meets the road."

I know it's nice to have pictures when you read a blog but this particular post is going to have to live by anecdote alone. This is the first time the household wireless has been working and I've got no good pictures anyway.

Normally those same day surgery waiting rooms are the worst. I was loaded with my laptop to do some school work, my iPad to watch some Columbo and some knitting- I brought sock yarn- forcing myself to have a moblie useful knit on hand- oh how I trick myself into knitting socks by making them the only thing available to knit.

At about 6:30 a.m. a woman asked about what I was knitting. Did I mention that I'm anti-social? Rarely in those situations do I carry on decent conversations. They are generally more depressing than the lonely worried wait. And yet. I had found another doppleganger. By 3:00 p.m. I knew she was a foster child, I had laughed at pictures of her grandchildren and I had played the bacon fart game app on her phone. Serious people with serious concerns were scowling at us and also wishing they had someone to make them laugh.

Towards the end of the wait I found myself hiding out for a few minutes just so my mouth would quit hurting from laughing. We were both tired, worried, giddy and ridiculous and apparently had the same coping mechanism. I know for a fact that when someone at her husband's place of employment farts, the whole gang says "speak to me sweet lips." Also when she was heading out for food and couldn't find her keys, I, without hesitation, grabbed her purse and found them for her.

It was a little rough when I actually had to mean business and talk to the dr. but I'm telling you a fact. If you find yourself in such a situation. You'll want Cindy there. And guess what her job is? She's an independent contractor home health aide! Hey Universe! YOU CRACK ME UP!! If we need her she passed the 8 hour interview. In fact I wish I could convince Aunt of Sophanne that in addition to a home health aide she needs a home laughing aide and pay this woman for her great spirits. I'm pretty sure Medicaid isn't going to cover that.

Growing up, dinners at the house of Aunt of Sophanne were always something. Prime rib, brisket, homemade pies, turkeys, hams, accompanying cheese covered vegetables, rice, potatoes, almost always 2 kinds of dessert. In that kitchen she has produced mountains of gastronomical delights.

Last night in that very same kitchen I made tuna noodle casserole using tuna salad "one serving" packages, a can of mushroom soup, some wide egg noodles and some french fried onion rings for dinner. Aunt swears she liked it because it's something Uncle never enjoyed so she never made. I have my doubts. I think the saving grace was that the tuna "salad" packets actually added some flavor to it.

Today I went to the grocery store and we had tacos for dinner. I realize this is starting to feel like a facebook post about the food I'm digesting. There's just a whole lot of irony involved in the fact that I am making crappy food for her in the same kitchen that she used to make awesome food for me.

The dog and I have been going head to head.



o.k. I lied. There's one blurry picture. He prefers the comfort of carpet to the annoying stickinyourbuttness effect of grass. So far the score is Mac (the dog) - 1 and Sophanne-2. This stubborn little donkey will be coming home with me when I do go home. Just until she can walk him again. He WILL be a better dog when he returns.

Mr. Sophanne has been- awesome letting me know just enough that he misses me without making me feel guilty for being here instead of home. We haven't talked much about the garden or the dog because he knows it will make me homesick. He's coming to visit tomorrow. What a guy. We've had visits from all of the home health people, I've made friends with all of the neighbors, and I'm hoping that by Tuesday I'll get to go home for a little while. However I've learned that the best way to crack the universe up is to make some plans so I'm not really doing that.