Tuesday, April 03, 2012

Well ... Soup and a depixelating mind.

I had to recover some of it from notes, but I didn't lose as much material as I first thought. So I feel better. Better yet, I spent part of the day frustrated by a missing pamphlet, but I have now located it. It wasn't lost. It was where it belonged. My defective brain remembered it as a separate booklet, but we own it bound into a book. The ah-ha moment came when I read a quotation from it in another book.

We're having home made vegetable beef soup tonight. It should be done in about ten minutes. I'm starving. The house smells of soup. Lovely, thick, meaty soup!

I've incorporated stuff my writing partner sent me today. That can be a difficult task. I'll print all this out and take it to work with me. It should be a quiet night after 2 am or so. I'll mark this all up.

The most difficult part of this chapter is a biography of a man named George Storrs. So much that is utterly silly has been written about him, and there is so much that is really interesting but not relevant to the history we're writing. I've deleted maybe thirty paragraphs as not needed. That represented a huge amount of research, but it distracted one from the important bits of this story.

We are following two research trails now. One concerns the Piladelphia "event" of 1844. It's very important, but as with much of this story, all sorts of nonsence has made it into print. The other concerns his period within the Life and Advent Union. We need to condense about seven years of Storrs' life into maybe five paragraphs. Dunno 'bout that.

Knobby Knees is home, sitting in his chair reading the newspaper and looking a tad worn out. Jet lag and a prolonged pixie-snuggle did that I think. Teach him to go off for days gallivanting around the uncivilized bits of Europe!

So ... Harry? How's mom?


  1. Mom had a mild heart event over the night last Tuesday. She had been very uncomfortable overnight and got my daughter to take her to a doctor. Her EKG was a little irregular and they sent her to the ER.

    She spent the entire day there with the family around as one doctor after another came and went with different diagnoses. Finally she was admitted to the main hospital and sent upstairs. When the nurse came in, he said "Okay, Mrs. H... let's get you settled and plugged into the equipment."

    Mom's reply was "I'm not going to do a %$#@^ thing until you feed me. I haven't eaten all day!" She cocked the hammer back on the second barrel.

    "Well it is nice to meet you too," he said. "Let me get you a tray." He retreated quickly.

    Later when my cardiologist arrived, "So why are you here, Mrs. H...?"

    That triggered barrel #2. "I'm here because that #%$@&! doctor downstairs said I had to be here!"

    "Yes ma'am, but what are your symptoms?"

    Now Mom had told all this to (in order) a nurse, a doctor, an EMT, an admitting nurse, an ER nurse, two doctors who disagreed, another ER nurse, and the ward nurse. She was feed up with the whole system.

    Luckily my cardiologist is a middle-age southern country boy with a delightfully disarming bedside manner. He managed to wrestle the information from Mom without further expletives.

    The next morning he was back after examining all the test results and told her she had a mild heart event (i.e. heart attack) and he could put a stent in if she wanted it. Mom is 90 years old. She decided against any surgery. She went home with some antibiotics for bronchitis, Plavix for the heart, and an aspirin a day.

    The next day she was back out on her balcony working with her plants and enjoying each day as it comes.

  2. Oh I almost forgot. WC Fields was asked once about the prospect of dying. His reply was...

    "On the whole, I'd rather be in Piladelphia."

  3. Well ... my gramma wouldn't have sworn at the doctor, but she would have behaved similarly anyway.

    I got my Let's Tick this Off One by ONE responses from her. For being a short, skinny, prim lady, she could intimidate at will.

    Good for Harry's MOM!