That's just creepy

I got up early Sunday morning showered, dressed and woke up Tucker dog. We have a little Sunday morning tradition in our household. Whoever gets up first (aka me) walks down to our neighborhood market and picks up a copy of our local newspaper.

As I was getting ready I told Tucker dog it was Sunday. For the next 10 minutes he danced about. I opened the door to let him out but he wouldn't go. So I went about getting my shoes and socks on, grabbing a jacket, money and his leash. By the time I was ready to set off on our adventure he was aggressively nudging and talking to me. He was so excited by the time we left he bolted down the driveway and stood impatiently waiting for me. It was like he knew it was Sunday....creepy.

Study participants

Apparently it wasn't creepy. According to a story in the Washington Post Tucker dog really did understand what I said. Scientists in Hungary published a groundbreaking study showing Fido understands our words. Amazing. So the next time Tucker dog ignores what I'm saying I'll know better.

An interesting visitor

During hot summer evenings we leave our doors open to capture any zephyr passing through. We do not have screens on our doors so it's not unusual for critters to fly in. That's where this adventure begins. Let me set the stage.

We were enjoying a relaxing evening watching a movie. The house was dark; the best atmosphere for movie watching. A moth fluttered across TV screen. I thought he must like action movies. Eventually he left our viewing corridor and moved on to somewhere else in the house (or Tucker dog ate it).

Suddenly a whirl of black flew through the room! I covered my head and yelled, “A BAT”. It flew circles around the room as I continued to yell like a little girl. My husband calmly said, “It's only a bat. It won't hurt you.”

I finally regained my composure and turned on my reading light. One more tour of the room and the bat left. I quickly jumped up and closed all the doors. Whew....

A life of its own

When I stopped working in 2001 I started gardening. We had very little usable space in direct sunlight because our property is covered by HUMONGOUS deciduous trees. So I started planting pots for our deck.

one corner of our deck

Fast forward 15 years and my little gardening project has morphed into an obsession. In early spring I begin scanning garden supply stores. My copy of Sunset's Western Garden Book is dogeared and stuffed full of plant tags guiding me on what's worked and what hasn't. The book is my constant companion. Plant colors, growing habits and textures are taken into consideration.

Finally, I begin the process of purchasing. Often I'd go grocery shopping and when my husband comes out to carry the sacks in, he'd finds a flat of flowers nestled among them. It takes me a month to purchase and plant all the pots. 

What happens when I end up with a few homeless plants? I buy a new pot!

 

thunbergia 'Arizona Glow'

Currently, I plant and tend 36 pots stuffed with all varieties of annuals and perennials. I love tending them in the quiet, still morning before our little berg awakens. The stillness allows me to watch the bees and hummingbirds flit from flower-to-flower. I average an hour daily deadheading and watering my treasures but it is a labor of love.

What a shocker

I joined an ATC (artist trading card) group 2 years ago. We meet once a month to exchange ATCs we've made representing a specific theme.

For the past 15 years my paper crafting has been in the 12" X 12", 4¼” X 5½” and 5" X 7" formats. Sooooo I thought working in the ATC format of  2½” X 3½” would challenge my creativity. Oh boy, have I been challenged!

I immediately learned that going from big to small is incredibly difficult. All my supplies are geared too LARGE. My stamps are LARGE. My ephemera is LARGE. My first thought was....oh yeah, I get to buy new stamps!  My second thought was....what the hell am I doing!

theme - washi tape

Our themes range from objective to esoteric mind benders like "wind". Huh? Each month as our meeting draws close my stress level increases. I have no ideas! What am I going to do? Finally I reach the OK, I won't go this month point. Out of frustration I sort of pout. But the theme keeps running through my mind. I should be able to do this.

Finally, 24 hours before the meeting I'm struck with an idea! I escape to my studio and begin working like a fiend. Paper, ink, stamps, scissors, more paper, dies, washi tape, more paper. I look like the Tasmanian devil.

But this month was different. I designed and made my 10 ATC cards 5 days before the meeting! Hmmm, what's going on! I'm hoping this trend continues but don't count of it.
 
 

May I watch TV?

I'm pretty sure that's the first question Tucker dog asks me every morning; with the exception of rainy mornings. He is obsessed with watching our resident squirrels. His first task is to make a bee line for the french doors. By the time I get there his left cheek is pressed to the glass and he's snorting dog goobers on the glass.

As I open the door he bolts out and comes to an abrupt stop. He assesses his territory before taking another step. His head slowly swivels from side to side looking for movement.  In a nanosecond he has assessed if its friend or foe.  

Quite often a squirrel is munching bird seed the gold finches have tossed under the feeder. Suddenly Tucker dog becomes an alien. He crouches down and begins to shake. Suddenly he bolts from the deck like an Olympic sprinter. 

Of course he's no match for the squirrel who does a victory lap around the oak tree and returns to eating.

Whew!

I'm glad that's over. Having to spend a portion of 3 consecutive days hooked to an IV is exhausting. Although I have to (grudgingly) admit it was easier than previous infusions. 

Not only was I able to receive the infusion at home but gone was the IV pole and nurse coming to the house to start each bag. They set me up with an elastomeric pump also known as a balloon pump. It was a pretty cool device.

Unfortunately I still received "toxic wasted dump mouth" when the line was flushed with saline and during the time I received the methylprednisone.

Now I just have to wait for the magic cocktail to work. Keep your fingers crossed!

I've never been called THAT before

Tuesday morning my husband drove me to Seattle for a brain MRI to be followed by my semi-annual appointment at the MS Center. You see, I've had multiple sclerosis for 25 years. I'm fortunate because I've been fairly stable since I started one of the MS drugs. Unfortunately things have been changing. I have been slow to admit it but with my MRI pending knew I'd have nowhere to hide.

In the afternoon we met with the nurse practitioner. (I rotate between the neurologist and NP every six months) When she entered the room the first words out of her mouth were, "What's going on?". I assumed she was asking the general "how are you" kind of question. I started to tell her the changes I've noticed when she excitedly said my MRI showed activity; lots of activity (5 new lesions). She thought the lab mixed up the report. She reiterated the fact that I've been stable. What's going on.

She asked a ton of questions to see if there was something obvious that caused the change. Nope. She said I might need to change medication. My husband asked if I'd be a candidate for a treatment of steroids. (I've done this many times in the past when an exacerbation strikes) Yup. She was so taken aback by the change on my MRI she blurted out, "You're an outlier".

A what? I had no intention of telling her I had no idea what "outlier" meant. She told me she would order the steroid treatment and that once the IV was set me husband could administer the infusions.(hooray!) Then she mentioned she was going to discuss the radiology report and MRI with my neurologist (the head of the Neuro-Science department) and she wanted to see me back in 30 days. She also said that I'll have another MRI in 6 months (oh joy).

Add caption

So, can you guess what the first thing I did when I left her office? Did I cry or shout that this wasn't fair? No.I whipped out my cell phone and opened my trusted Merriam-Webster Dictionary.

You learn something new every day. 

Here we go...

I admit it, I've been stuck in neutral. Thanks to my bestie Anna for giving me a jolt of encouragement which tossed me back in the literary saddle. 

In November our cruise ship docked in Civitavecchia, Italy. While it has a great name it didn't have much going for it but it's proximity to Rome. As we exited the ship we were reminded the ship's departure time was 8 PM. No problem. The cruise ship made arrangements to get passengers via bus to the train station. We purchased our tickets, hopped on the train and were off. 

Unfortunately our Roman adventure was accompanied by a driving rain. After visiting St.Peter's and the Pantheon we decided to have lunch. We ducked into a tiny cafe that catered to locals (their menu was in Italian only). What a divine meal. 

Trevi Fountain

Re-energized we continued our journey around town. Our final stop was the Trevi Fountain. The legend says you should stand with your back to the fountain and toss a coin over your left shoulder to guarantee a return trip to Rome. It worked before so we tossed our euros and headed off to the train station.

We purchased tickets for the 6:15 PM train. Unfortunately we didn't realize we were 3 football fields away. We arrived at Gate 27 minutes after the train left. Swell, by this time we were cold, wet and tired. 

We scurried aboard the 7:15 train, unfortunately it was standing room only. About 20 minutes later the train slowly came to a stop. An announcement was made that elicited a moan from the passengers. After 3 attempts to get the train moving another announcement followed by a louder moan. Being my gregarious self I was able to strike up a conversation with a young woman who spoke English. Apparently we had to wait for another train on an adjacent tract to pull alongside. Any idea when? No. What was I thinking; this was Italy.

Suddenly everyone jumped up and ran for an exit. We had no idea where they were going but we followed them onto a platform down a bunch of stairs, through a tunnel, up a bunch of stairs onto another platform and into a waiting train. We felt like lemmings but hey!

It's was clear we were going to be cutting the time close. When we finally arrived at the Civitavecchia train station it was after 8 but the ship is still tied up. There were no taxis in sight so we ran to a small hotel on the promenade. Could they please call us a taxi to take us to the ship? Nope, the mayor does not allow taxis to run after 6 pm. Seriously!!! We were told to keep walking/running down the promenade and there would most likely be a bus that takes staff to the various ships in port. Off we went. 

Ten minutes later we arrived at the bus but there was no driver insight. Finally I located the guy being amorous with his girlfriend. "Excuse me, we need to get to the M/S Masdam. Soon, soon" he said. Ten minutes later we were off. The ship was still there but the gangway had been taken in. Yikes. Two minutes later the bus driver stopped opened the door and said, "Go". He basically dumped us off in the port. We could see the ship (that's good) but there was a 10' fence around it (that's bad). We see a man standing by a gate in the fence but he said we couldn't go through and pointed away from the ship. We ran that way and found another gate but the guard again pointed us in the opposite direction of the boat as well. Finally we came to another gate where the guard let us through. A guy picked us up in a car and drove us the last distance to the ship. By that time the gangway was out and we were motioned aboard.Whew!

Apparently the Captain just announced we would not be leaving port that night due to high winds.

 

It worked!

The coins we dropped in the pirate's chest did the job. Our 6 days crossing the Atlantic were fairly uneventful though we did have one day when the sea was a bit rough. Thankfully it didn't cause us any problems but that obviously wasn't the case with everyone on the M/S Maasdam. The staff discreetly placed bags by the elevators for those guests that felt a bit queasy moving about the ship.

example of our cabin steward's handy work

Before we left home we had only one concern about this trip......fear of boredom. What the heck would we do during the long sailings across the pond? That question was answered our first night aboard.

Our cabin steward placed a tri-fold pamphlet on our bed next to our towel animal and chocolates. The brochure listed all the next days' activities. Beginning at 7 AM we were offered everything from stretching to trivia to live entertainment. One of our favorite programs on sea days was the Explorer Series. Guest lecturers shared their knowledge of   everything from improv theater to international terrorism. The best by far was Frank Buzzard, the retired chief engineer of the International Space Station. He was fascinating!


I also took advantage of their classes on Windows 10. Apparently I wasn't the only one who had not embraced Microsoft's newest offering. Said computer company sponsored the Digital Workshop. It helped that we had a 30-something instructor with a great personality. Molly gave up her career as a kindergarten teacher to work on Holland America. What a perfect career to prepare her to teach a bunch of gray hairs (ok,so I only have a couple of gray hairs). It also helped that she was a graduate of my husband's alma mater. Go Cougs!

Ready, Set, Go....

     The night before we left St. Maarten, our final port of call in the western Atlantic, our cabin steward left an invitation to the Scallywag Sail Away Ceremony and 2 faux gold doubloons on our bed. Apparently this party was a tradition on the night we set sail across the pond.   
      Our cruise director planned quite an extravaganza. The navigation deck was festooned with flags and the staff were dressed as pirates. It was a very festive atmosphere. Of course the rum punch didn't hurt.
     As we threw our doubloons in the requisite pirates chest I had my fingers crossed. I wasn't taking any chances. I wanted to make doubly sure our next 6 days at sea crossing the Atlantic were smooth.
     This was where the real adventure began....
     
 

Hakuna Matata

I know Disney's Lion King isn't the first thing that comes to mind when you think of a Mediterranean cruise but it's where this story begins.
     We had chosen the open seating option for dinner rather than being obligated to dining  at the same time with the same people every night. The idea being that we'd meet a lot of different people. It sounded good in theory.
     The first night aboard was gala night so everyone was decked out in their finest. It also happened to be Halloween. 

Rafiki

     We headed down to the dining room and waited with another couple for a table. One gentleman looked very dapper in his tux, the other looked like Rafiki, the baboon in the Lion King. He had on a huge, elaborate mask, a black full body leotard and carried a wooden staff.
     Bruce sent me a look that pretty much said what did you get me into! He leaned towards me and whispered, "Who is that?" I shrugged. I had a feeling we'd find out soon enough. Oh boy.

     That was our introduction to Henry. Once his mask came off we learned he and David were on board to celebrate David's 80th birthday. David asked Henry why he didn't wear his tux. I thought his answer made a lot of sense, "I didn't carry this mask all the way from Seattle to leave it packed away."
      I wondered if I needed to rethink the open seating decision then I remembered what hakuna matata stands for....no worries. Besides we only have 49 more dinners to go. How bad could it be?