Sensory Hallucination

When you're the only one who sees/smells/tastes/hears something that others don't, it can lead to all sorts of paranoia.

I mentioned recently that we were having trouble with an odor in the shower. This has been going on for a good while - months, actually.

My husband never smelled it. He has yet to smell it.

I smell it every time I shower. That's the only time. About 3 minutes into a shower, when the water is hot, there's an awful odor from somewhere, and either I get used to it or it goes away, I am not sure which. I think it goes away.

The odor is bad. Like want to vomit bad. It just doesn't last long, fortunately, and I don't come out of the shower smelling like that.

We began trying to figure out what the problem was. My husband, always the one to go to the absolute worst solution, immediately said we would have to tear the shower out because obviously there must be a leak somewhere, and mold.

"And you are sick and have been and it's probably this mold," he declared.

I was not moving that fast to create chaos in the household, though. I suggested we try cleaning. Lots of bleach around the drain. We bought extra-long brush things that would go down into the pipes and used them.

The smell came and went with every shower, regardless of how bleached the bathroom actually smelled. Something has to smell strongly to overcome the power of a bleached bathroom. Really.

We found a plug and filled the bottom of the shower with bleach water, and I sat for an hour and watched it, waiting to see if the level went down, or if one of those little whirlpools appeared somewhere to indicate a leak.

Nothing happened. No whirlpool. No water level dropping. There isn't a leak in that shower.

We also cleaned the shower head and all parts of the shower, of course.

The stench continued.

I started to wonder if I was having some kind of weird nasal hallucination brought on by the act of showering. When you're the only one who smells it, it sets you back, you know? Was I having some kind of bacterial reaction from my body to the water? Was it my armpits? What?

But my husband said he believes I smell something. He pointed out that I had told him for a very long time that there was mold in the living room. It smelled so strong to me that I stayed away from that part of the house. He smelled nothing and we couldn't find any signs of mold. We found the mold when we replaced the windows. There was a leak around a window frame and it had molded there, in the wall. Once that was removed and fixed, the odor was gone. (He also told someone at Lowes when he went to get a part that I can smell an ant fart from 1000 yards, which is an overexaggeration. I hope.)

I started to wonder if the odor in the shower might not actually be in the water. I looked up smelly water and it turns out that hot water heaters can create an odor in water. They called it a rotten egg smell, and while what I am sniffing smells more to me like an old sewer drain that's gone dry, I suppose it could be a type of rotten egg smell. I'm not sure I've ever smelled a rotten egg, although since I grew up on a farm you would think that I would have.

There is something in a water heater called an anode, which is used to keep the tanks from being eaten away by the water. It is a long, metal rod typically made of aluminum, magnesium, or zinc, and is inserted into the top of the water heater tank. The anode rod attracts corrosive particles found inside the tank, protecting the tank liner and reducing the risk of explosion.

This anode can begin to erode and that can cause odor after a time. Or so it says on the Internet.

Yesterday, my husband attempted to replace this piece in our water heater, but it is screwed in so tightly that he and a neighbor could not get it free, not even with an impact wrench. He finally replaced the hot water heater elements to see if they could be the problem and left the anode in there.

The shower still stinks. So, it wasn't the water heater elements. But it could still be the anode.

It is cheaper to replace a hot water heater than to tear out a tiled shower and have it rebuilt, that much I know. So, when my husband has time, he is going to replace the hot water heater.

In the meantime, I will hold my nose in the shower and hope it really is the hot water heater.

This is just so weird.

Saturday 9: Summer Song

Saturday 9: A Summer Song (1964)

   

Unfamiliar with this week's tune? Hear it here.

 

1) Are you enjoying winter? Or do you daydream about summer?

A. I am not enjoying winter. I have been sick most of January and I am not a fan of the cold weather. I don't like the extreme heat of summer, either, but I can deal with that better than these cold, brittle windy days.

 

2) In this week's song, trees sway in the breeze. Is it windy where you are today?

A. It is fairly calm as I write this.

3) There's rain outside their window. Have you more recently seen rain or snow?

A. We have had snow. We are still in a drought even if the government won't acknowledge it.

4) This week's artists are the duo Chad and Jeremy. As a teen, Chad Stuart was very versatile in the arts. While he enjoyed drawing, he showed real promise in music and won a scholarship to London's Central School of Speech and Drama. When you were a teenager, what were your best classes? 

A. English, history, civics/government. I made As in all of my classes except Phys ed, including Algebra and Trig, wherein I loved my teacher, but I did not consider them my best classes. 

5) Between 1965 and 1966, Chad and Jeremy played British pop stars on a variety of American TV shows, including The Dick Van Dyke Show, The Patty Duke Show, and Batman. Which of those series do you remember?

A. Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah Batman!

 

6) While those TV appearances were good for the duo's record sales, they sowed the seeds of dissent between the friends. Jeremy Clyde realized he enjoyed acting far more than music and began threatening to leave the act. Chad finally got tired of dissuading him. Between Jeremy's dramatic aspirations and contract disputes, they broke up. Later they both admitted they regretted the split, but as Chad said, "we were just kids." Is there an old friend you've drifted away from but miss?

A. There are many people I no longer know whom I miss sometimes, but they don't seem to miss me, so I try not to think about them. The people who are important in my life are here.

7) In 1964, when "A Summer Song" was popular, the #1 movie in the country was Mary Poppins. Have you seen it?

A. I have seen Mary Poppins.

8) One of the biggest news stories of 1964 was Elizabeth Taylor's wedding to Richard Burton. The bride wore yellow, with yellow and white flowers in her hair. The groom wore a dark suit, red tie and yellow boutonniere. What did you wear last time you got dressed up?

A. The last time I dressed up I wore blue pants and a nice top. That's about as dressed up as I get.

9) Random question: When you're in the backseat, do you wear a seatbelt?

A. I do not sit in the backseat because I get carsick, but if I did, I would wear a seatbelt.

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I encourage you to visit the posts of other participants in Saturday 9 and leave a comment. Because there are no rules, it is your choice. Saturday 9 players hate rules. We love memes, however. 

Book Review: Orbital

Orbital
By Samantha Harvey
Audio version, 6 hrs

Read by Sarah Naudi
Copyright 2023

This book was the winner of the Booker Prize in 2024 and winner of the 2024 Hawthornden Prize. It was also shortlisted for the 2024 Orwell Prize for Political Fiction and shortlisted for the 2024 Ursula K. Le Guin Prize for Fiction.

Orbital is poetic novel about 24 hours in the life of six astronauts aboard the International Space Station (although it is never called that). The mission is one of the last space station missions before the station is to be decommissioned and eventually ditched into the ocean.

The six are from America, Russia, Italy, Britain, and Japan. There are two women and four men. They travel around the earth 16 times a day, going 17,000 miles an hour above our blue dot.

The author gives us glimpses into the lives of these space explorers but also shows what is going on beneath them - a typhon near the Philippines, clouds of dust across deserts, the dots of cities along the coastal areas.

And out another window are constellations, galaxies, and worlds yet unthought of.

Below them and then beside them, another rocket blasts off from earth, with astronauts headed toward the moon this time.

This could have been boring, and at first, I was afraid I was going to be put off by the reader, but I decided to give it a shot. I'm so glad I did. I found it fascinating. The writing was extraordinary, very lyrical and poetic, with a sentence structure that was calming. I enjoyed getting to know the astronauts a little, and then the widening expanse of the view of the world, then a dip into the microcosm of some portion thereof.

This is not a book I would have picked up normally, but it was a good choice. I was looking for something short while I wait on a hold for a longer audio book.

It's good to explore what's out there.

Thursday Thirteen

Over the years, I have read a lot of dystopian literature. Dystopian books generally refer to a society or world that is characterized by suffering, oppression, or extreme injustice. In a dystopian setting, the social, political, or environmental systems are deeply flawed, often creating bleak, undesirable conditions for its inhabitants.

Some of the first books I read that left an impression on me include Alas Babylon, by Pat Frank, which I read in the 10th grade, 1984 and Animal Farm, both by George Orwell, and A Canticle for Liebowitz, by Walter M. Miller. All of those were published before I was born. That was followed up by things like The Handmaid's Tale and Oryx and Crake, both by Margaret Atwood.

Then there were the movies that stuck with me: Mad Max, The Postman, Waterworld, etc. Heck, even Game of Thrones was a dystopian fantasy.

Scary stuff. In none of these did women, in particular, make out very well.

Since we are moving into a bit of uncertainty, I thought I'd offer up some common elements or themes often found in dystopian literature:

1. Oppressive Government: A totalitarian or authoritarian regime controlling every aspect of life, including surveillance and constant monitoring of citizens through technology or informants. There is also a loss of privacy.

2. Propaganda: Media and messages designed to manipulate and control public opinion.

3. Restricted Freedom: Limited personal, political, or social freedoms.

4. Dehumanization: Citizens are treated as numbers or resources rather than individuals.

5. Environmental Decay: A degraded or polluted environment due to human neglect or disaster.

6. Technological Control: Technology used to oppress, control, or replace human functions.

7. Economic Inequality: Stark division between the elite and the impoverished masses; a rigid hierarchy that determines status and rights.

8. Rebellion or Resistance: A group or individual fighting against the oppressive system.

9. Censorship: Suppression or alteration of information to maintain control.

10. Artificial Scarcities: Manufactured shortages of resources to enforce dependence.

11. Loss of Individuality: Citizens are forced to conform, with personal expression discouraged or punished.

12. Fear and Intimidation: Use of violence, punishment, or the threat thereof to maintain control.

13. Cultural Decay: Loss or erosion of art, language, history, or traditions.

These elements often intertwine, painting a bleak picture of a world that serves as a warning or critique of current societal trends.

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Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; there is a list here if you want to read other Thursday Thirteens and/or play along. I've been playing for a while, and this is my 890th time to do a list of 13 on a Thursday. Or so sayth the Blogger counter, anyway.

Purple Skies

 

I Got Something to Say

For a while now, I've been trying to decide if I am "real" enough in this blog.

I read other people's writing, and it seems to flow and energy drips from it. My writing, to me, feels constructed, constrained, and a little constipated.

Perhaps this is because I know it's in the public domain. But then, so is the work of the folks I read. Other bloggers, other writers. 

People who can dip into their emotional well and come out of it and leave you in tears.

I'm not sure I can do that. I'm not sure I am capable of that. I don't know that anything I've written since I began blogging 20 years ago has ever done that.

There is so much that I don't write about because this is a public space and because I am - or was - a public persona - that I am pretty sure my filters are constantly on high alert.

Even if I don't want them to be.

So if I wanted to rip my heart apart on this blog, and dump all of my grief, my angst, my heartache, I seriously doubt I could. I might want to, but I don't think I could.

I ache to feel like a real woman, a real person, a real human being with emotions and everything, but sometimes I feel more like some androgynous Vulcan, living a life of logic, with my emotions shut off and shut down.

Only then they come flying out at odd times. In strange words with my husband, for example. Perhaps a short snap at a friend. Maybe a huge sigh with another family member.

But I so badly want to write with freedom, with abandonment, to let it all fly out. Even now, I'm trying to do that, sitting here writing, trying to find an emotion to cast outward, and all I find is a lot of broken.

I find the broken in the way I feel physically, while I am still - still - trying to get over this virus or allergy or whatever it is I have. My voice is raspy, my eyes water constantly, my sinuses are all over the place.

There's broken in my soul at the thought of my country falling to pieces right before my eyes. I keep wanting to say, "Not on my watch," but it is my watch and I have failed, as have the multitudes and the many, and yet we all, except those of us who die tonight, will get up tomorrow and it will be just another cold, frigid day in Southwest Virginia, and my beautiful mountains will still pitch up towards the blue sky, and the snow will still be spotty on the grounds, and the deer will slip from the cedar trees and into the glen to munch on frozen grass and the cardinals will fluff themselves up in the tree in the front yard, their bodies enlarged to keep warm as the polar vortex bears down upon us.

There's broken in my heart when I think of all I have not done and will not do, and all that I wanted to do but could not bring myself to do, and then there is regret because I cannot remember what I have done, and I have done a lot, it has been a life well-lived, or as well as I could live it, at any rate, and so what if I don't ever see the pyramids or travel to Ireland? Those are just marks on a map, after all, and life has no roadmap, no life does.

There are those who can bulldoze their way through their life and take and take and get what they want or think they need and many of those people are happy, but most are not, or so it seems to me. And there are people like me who shrink and grow small in order to simply stay safe because safe is security and yet safe is boring and not really secure at all, because it's a nothingness sort of existence to stay safe and secure and holed up, aloof and alone.

I want to find that part of me, that part that I know is in there, that would allow me to write with the freedom of a flag flapping in the breeze - any flag, anywhere - flapping in a wind until it tears into shreds, and no one is even sure what kind of flag it was, in the end. Isn't that the way to get out of this place, to fly straight into the wind, unfettered and free?

Wake Up, Maggie

 

Today is Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. I don't know a lot about this man, something I need to rectify. I am not a big biography reader though in recent years I have attempted to rectify that. However, I mostly lean towards the memoirs of women.

From Encyclopedia Brittanica: "Martin Luther King, Jr. (born January 15, 1929, Atlanta, Georgia, U.S.—died April 4, 1968, Memphis, Tennessee) was a Baptist minister and social activist who led the civil rights movement in the United States from the mid-1950s until his death by assassination in 1968. His leadership was fundamental to that movement’s success in ending the legal segregation of African Americans in the South and other parts of the United States. King rose to national prominence as head of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, which promoted nonviolent tactics, such as the massive March on Washington (1963), to achieve civil rights. He was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1964."

I was not quite five years old when King was killed in Tennessee. I do not have memories of this man, though I may have seen him on television. I have no memories of his death, but it hasn't been all that long ago that I was reading something about him and ran across a chilling reminder of how deeply racism is instilled in the hearts and minds of so many in this country. The words in that article were something to the effect that many white people rejoiced and partied when they learned the King was dead.

That this would have been anyone's reaction never occurred to me until I read it. Looking around me now, though, I see that of course this would have been true. People probably drank champaign and danced on top of their cars. Racism has never left. I just didn't see it because I live in a relatively white area. I grew up with it and didn't even know it.

This day is also the day the USA ushers in its new gilded age. An oligarchy unseen in my lifetime takes over. Or maybe it has always been this way, just not this blatant. I am not sure.

All I know is that today is a day to think, to contemplate, and to wonder. 

Try not to worry, and do not rejoice too much. There are winners and losers in everything, and what seems to be is not always what is.

The future remains as uncertain as it did in 1968.

I read the back issues of newspapers for fun.

Believe me, nothing much has changed as far as human nature over the last 150 years. The issues of today were the issues in 1875. They were only in less technological forms, but the class divide was as strong then as it is now.

Don't look for those issues to disappear overnight.

Saturday 9: Careless Whisper

Saturday 9: Careless Whisper (1985)

    

Unfamiliar with this week's tune? Hear it here.

 

 

1) In this week's song, George Michael sings that, when it comes to relationships, "there's no comfort in the truth." Have you ever learned something about a friend, lover or relative that you wish you didn't know?

A. OMG yes. I learned something about my dearest friend not less than a month after she died that I wish I had never, ever learned. Because I loved her, I will not repeat it. But I sure wish I didn't know it.

2) Though this was the top song of 1985, George wrote it years before, when he was still working as a dj at a restaurant outside London. He recalled the moment the sax solo popped into his head. It was while he was on the bus on his way to work. If you go to work, how do you get there (car, bus, train, etc.)? If you don't work outside the home, tell us about a trip you make regularly.

A. I regularly go to the grocery store. I drive by car, in my Toyota Camry, and it takes me as long to drive to the store as it does to get the groceries, then I drive back and put them away. It's exciting!

 

3) The video for this song was very expensive. It was filmed on location all around Miami, including the luxury Grove Towers Condominiums, but then much of it had to be reshot because George didn't like his hair. Are you having a good hair day today?

A. I could use a cut but I've been sick for two weeks and still am sick, so I don't look for that to be happening soon.

4) 1985 was a big year for George Michael and Andrew Ridgeley. As Wham! they had three songs on the charts and became the first Western pop music act to tour China. Have you ever visited China? Would you like to go?

A. I have not visited China. It would be an interesting place to visit, if I had a good tour guide and/or group to go with. I would prefer to have gone when I was younger, though.

 

5) When he wasn't working, George was a creature of habit. For example, he never tired of Cocoa Puffs for breakfast and roast chicken for Sunday dinner. Is there a menu item you find yourself eating again and again?

A. I eat a mix of plain Cheerios and Honey Nut Cheerios for breakfast almost every day. The calories are the same, but the carbs are lower that way. I do not eat my cereal with milk or anything; I eat it dry. We also eat a lot of "chicken and a vegetable" for dinner.

6) George enjoyed living quietly in Highgate, North London. It wasn't until after his death that his neighbors learned he was the "anonymous resident" who had been funding Highgate's Fair in the Square for years. Held in June each year, The Fair is known for its dog show, arts and crafts booths, music and food. Tell us about one of your community's annual events.

A. They have a festival in Fincastle in September every year. It used to be a huge affair - the streets so clogged with vendors and buyers that you could scarcely move. Thousands of people. Then it started dwindling, died off for a few years, and was resurrected into a much smaller venue than it used to be. It's actually kind of pitiful now, but maybe that's only because I had to go to it every year for years to take photos for the newspaper and have the memories of what it used to be lodged into my eye.

 

7) According to Car and Driver, when "Careless Whisper" was popular, so was the Chevy Cavalier, a compact car. Nearly 40 years later, the vehicle landscape is very different. There are fewer compacts sold and last year, the most popular Chevy was the Silverado, a light duty truck. Do you drive a car, a truck, or an SUV?

A. I drive a car. My husband has a truck.

8) Also in 1985, Bill Shoemaker's earnings reached $100 million, making him the world's most successful jockey. Do you follow horse racing?

A. I watch the Triple Crown races sometimes, but it is not something I make a point of doing. I liked the movie Secretariat.

9) Random question -- In which race would you do better: the Iditarod, with sled dogs in Nome, or speeding in a race car at the Indy 500?

A. When I was younger, my husband (and other members of my family) used to call me "AJ" as in AJ Foyt, so I guess the Indy 500. I used to have a very heavy foot where the gas was concerned, but I am older now and don't drive quite so fast and recklessly as I once did.

Sometimes when I write the answers to these questions, I wonder where that woman has gone.

 _______________

I encourage you to visit the posts of other participants in Saturday 9 and leave a comment. Because there are no rules, it is your choice. Saturday 9 players hate rules. We love memes, however. 

Thursday Thirteen

January is National Firefighter Cancer Awareness Month. Given what California just experienced, with miles of Los Angeles burned to the ground, and the fact that I'm married to a retired firefighter, this is an important issue. Here are some facts about this:

1. Occupational cancer is the leading cause of line-of-duty deaths among firefighters.

2. Firefighters are twice as likely to develop certain types of cancer compared to the general population. Firefighters face a 9% higher risk of being diagnosed with cancer and a 14% higher risk of dying from cancer compared to the general U.S. population.

3. Seventy-five percent of line-of-duty deaths among International Association of Firefighter (IAFF) members in 2024 were attributed to occupational cancer.

4. Firefighters are exposed to multiple cancer-causing agents on the job. Asbestos, a hazardous material found in older buildings, is a significant risk factor for firefighters.

5. Firefighters are two times more likely to develop mesothelioma than the general U.S. population.

6. Aqueous film-forming foam (AFFF), used by firefighters, contains dangerous chemicals known as PFAS. PFAS can build up in the body over time and cause various types of cancer.

7. Sixty-eight percent of firefighters develop cancer compared to just 22% in the general population.

8. Skin melanoma, prostate cancer, and non-Hodgkin lymphoma are among the cancers firefighters are at higher risk of developing.

9. The Firefighter Cancer Support Network (FCSN) provides vital education and resources to combat occupational cancer.

10. Presumptive laws in Canada attribute close to 94% of line-of-duty deaths among professional firefighters to occupational cancers.

11. The IAFF designates January as Firefighter Cancer Awareness Month to provide tools and guidance for cancer prevention. Behavioral health is a key focus during Firefighter Cancer Awareness Month. Weekly themes during the month include topics like reproductive health, cancer prevention, and survivorship. Training briefs and resources are provided to educate firefighters on reducing cancer risks.

12. One of the goals of Firefighter Cancer Awareness Month is to bring increased public awareness to occupational cancer in the fire service.

13. Firefighters' protective gear can sometimes trap harmful chemicals close to their skin, increasing their risk of cancer. Regular decontamination and proper maintenance of gear are crucial to minimize this risk.

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Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; there is a list here if you want to read other Thursday Thirteens and/or play along. I've been playing for a while, and this is my 889th time to do a list of 13 on a Thursday. Or so sayth the Blogger counter, anyway.

The Morning

About 52 years ago, on a Saturday sometime in May, I woke early.

My parents were still asleep, as was my brother. No one was up but me. 

We lived in an old farmhouse at the time. It had a row of boxwoods across the front next to the road.

For whatever reason, when I rose, I decided I was going to trim the boxwoods. We did chores back in those days - maybe I had been told I was going to be doing that over the weekend. In any event, I was nine years old, and I was going to do a job. I dressed myself, ate a Pop Tart, found the hedge clippers, and went out front.

Snip. Snip. I vaguely remember the pile of greenery growing up around me as I trimmed. I recall it wasn't hot but a mild day, and the work was, if not fun, pleasurable. I was doing what needed to be done. I imagined that inside the boxwoods lived all manner of creatures - fairies, gnomes, talking rabbits. I carried on quite a conversation with my imaginary friends hidden in the greenery as I moved the clippers across the boxwoods, cutting away the excess growth.

I was so engrossed in my work that I never heard my parents calling for me inside the house. Nor did I hear my mother's calls out the back door.

It wasn't until she came around front calling my name that I stopped and looked up from my trimming of the hedge to see her worried face.

Her face changed from worry to shock as she stood there taking in the sight of me. I wasn't missing - I was working. And nearly finished, at that. I had been at it for well over an hour.

My mother has been gone for almost 25 years. Today is no special day; I have no reason for this memory. Sometimes, though, I forget what my mother's voice sounded like. It has been many years, after all, since I last heard her say something.

But when I call up this memory, when I hear her calling out my name as she rounds the corner of the house, concern echoing in the timbre of her shout, I remember every time.

My Baby

My husband is a kind, loving man. He treats me well and is a gentleman.

He's also stubborn and apparently, I have to hit him upside the head with something to make him understand things sometimes.

Case in point:

Our microwave sits in a built-in cabinet space about the oven (a Jenn-Air with a downdraft). It is high for me to reach even on a good day, but I can get stuff in it. I can't reach the top of it or hit the top buttons on the microwave without a stepstool.

As I went to put a bowl of soup in the microwave at lunch, I asked my husband to come to me. "Do you just not see that when you use the microwave?" I asked him, pointing to a mess at the top of the microwave where something had exploded about 4 days ago and I'd been too sick to try to clean it up.

"Oh, there is a mess there, isn't there," he said.

"I was taught to always clean up a mess when I saw it," I remarked.

And that for him, apparently, was the end of it. He didn't take the hint that I wanted the microwave wiped out. He ate his lunch and left.

I hauled out my stepstool, heated up a cup of hot water in the microwave to loosen things up, climbed up on the stool - with a little vertigo going on from this cold, mind you - and cleaned the microwave.

What part of my showing him the mess did not indicate a desire to have it cleaned up? Do I really have to spell it out? Do I have to say, "Would you please clean the microwave?" Pointing out the mess wasn't enough of a message?

Then we have an issue with the shower drain. He has attempted to clean it, and we've bleached and used vinegar and baking soda and snaked the drain and used Drano and all sorts of stuff to get this odor to disappear. 

It has not disappeared.

However, he cannot smell it. He has never been able to smell it. It's not a priority for him because he can't smell it. It about gags me to take a shower, and I'm starting to think that this may be why I'm so sick.

So today I did what he should have done. I called the shower drain manufacturer and asked if this was a known issue. Guess what? It is, especially in areas with hard water.

Guess what we have? Hard water.

The manufacturer will open up a case claim and send out a field rep. I want this taken care of. I learned a long time ago, that many times, I just have to do stuff myself.

I love my man, but sometimes I don't understand him.

A Day of Whine and Noses

Ah, so much going in the world. Fires in California. Bombings in Gaza, Ukraine, Russia, who knows where else. People hurting all over. Cold, snow, bad weather everywhere. Flood victims still living in tents just a few hours drive from me. Greedy people being even more greedy.

And in a week, the apocalypse. Crikey. How much worse can it get?

Me? I sit here stewing because my cold/virus/whatever will not let up. I felt better Friday, worse yesterday, and even worse today.

I have personally used up two boxes of 48 Puffs Plus Lotion tissues since Friday, plus a box of Kleenex. I filled a trash bag with them.

My nose is glowing red despite the tissues and the lotion I'm putting on my nose to keep it from turning into a big honking blinker that could be seen from the International Space Station.

Mostly I've started to worry about a little bit of chest pain I'm having, because it came from nowhere, and I am on an antibiotic. I shouldn't be having chest pain. I think it's because I ate some dark chocolate, so it's really reflux and not my lungs, but I did have an asthma attack last night. Maybe I'm just sore from that. I wouldn't be going into bronchitis or anything since I'm on an antibiotic, right? (Don't tell my husband, he doesn't know about this. Yes, yes, if it gets worse, I'll tell him.) (Update: this has eased, it was likely reflux.)

Nor should I complain, because I've had this cold just a week. My husband's still sniffling, and he's had his cold since December 27, which is what? Sixteen days? Over two weeks. But he is out and about, and I'm still stuck at home.

The car can't get back up the driveway anyway because of the ice that fell a few days ago. I'm stuck at home, blowing my nose, and craving a chocolate chip cookie.

A chocolate chip cookie would make it all alright, wouldn't it? An ooey gooey warm chocolate chip cookie? Wouldn't that fix all the problems? Probably not. It's almost time for dinner, anyway.

I have not walked on the treadmill for two days, though I did walk on Friday when I was feeling better. Maybe that was my mistake. I am not very good at the "lay around and rest" part of having an illness. I wanted to walk yesterday but my husband said I shouldn't, and today I know I shouldn't.

Being sick sucks. I've had to cancel loads of plans and appointments. I need to be working on some things and I can't do anything but blow my nose.

Yes, I am whining. I don't do it very often. Thanks for putting up with it.

Saturday 9: Calendar Girl

Saturday 9: Calendar Girl (1960)
    
Unfamiliar with this week's tune? Hear it here.
 
1) How will you keep track of your days/weeks in 2025? Do you have a desk planner? A wall calendar? A pocket planner? Do you use the app on your phone?

A. I use the calendar in Outlook 2007, then print out a month to see what I have going on. I also have a wall calendar by my computer, but that's mostly so I can look at it and know what day it is, and because I like the pictures.

2) Consider your typical week. Which day tends to be your busiest?

A. Saturdays tend to be busy because that's the day I change the bed linens and do other major household tasks.
 
3) This week's artist, Neil Sedaka, is one of pop music's most prolific singer-songwriters, but his first love was classical music. He was so good that he trained at Julliard and won the accolade, "Best New York High School Pianist." Recall one of your passions from your high school years.

A. My passions in high school were about the same as my passions now: writing, reading, and music.

4) Elton John has always enjoyed Sedaka's music and in the 1970s, when Elton was one of the world's top stars, he requested a meeting. If you had the power to contact and then meet anyone in the world, who would you choose?

A. I would choose Margaret Atwood. She certainly seems to have her hands on what's going on and may or may not happen as far as dystopian futures. I like her writing and it would be interesting to learn about her work habits and see how her mind comes up with the stories.

5) Sedaka appeared as the musical guest during the second season of Saturday Night Live. What's the most recent show you watched on TV? Was it live, from your dvr, or did you stream it?

A. The most recent show I watched was from a DVD, and it was Season 5, episodes 1-3 of The West Wing. The West Wing was on Max, but at midnight on January 1, it disappeared, and we were in Season 4. So we bought the DVD set, it arrived, and we started watching it. On Wednesday, I learned that Max brought West Wing back (must've had a LOT of complaints), but by then we had the DVD set and had opened it. I suppose I could have tried to return it but I am not that way. Besides, we still don't have fiber internet and we had a lot of buffering. No buffering on a DVD.

6) His daughter Dara sings on TV and radio commercials. What advertising jingle sticks in your head?

A. The drummers go boom boom! The trombones go zoom zoom! And everybody shouts hooray for Valley Dale! Hooray for Valley Dale all hail it's Valley Dale! Valley Dale sausage! Valley Dale bacon! Valley Dale weiners! Zing zing zing Valley Dale! Hooray for Valley Dale all hail it's Valley Dale.

Valley Dale was a local meat packager in my youth. I don't know if they are still in business. I also don't have the words right.

 
7) In 1960, when "Calendar Girl" was popular, To Kill a Mockingbird was first published. Have you read it?

A. I have read To Kill a Mockingbird a couple of times, but it has been a while since I last read it.

8) Also in 1960, John F. Kennedy, Jr. was baptized in the Georgetown University Chapel. His godparents were Charles and Martha Bartlett, the couple who introduced his famous parents. Do you have any godchildren?

A. I do not have godchildren.

9) Random question -- Which did you enjoy more: the last week of 2024 or the first week of 2025?

A. I would say I enjoyed the last week of 2024 more, because we both hadn't quite come down with the crud that January brought us.

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I encourage you to visit the posts of other participants in Saturday 9 and leave a comment. Because there are no rules, it is your choice. Saturday 9 players hate rules. We love memes, however. 

Thursday Thirteen

1. I no longer post much on Facebook. I have opinions and information on things, but usually I just let it roll on by. Yesterday, someone posted about the county courthouse, which is empty and will soon be torn down. The current structure is one that was rebuilt in 1975 to replace an historic structure (built in 1848) that burned in 1970. This was my response to the complaints that (1) blamed the county administrator and (2) said this was an historic building. I posted it but then deleted it. I know a lot about this project because I was writing about it from the beginning, plus I have covered other courthouse renovations in other areas when I was a news reporter. There is no talking sense to some people.

Redoing/changing/rebuilding a courthouse is a long process that begins not with the Board of Supervisors but with the judiciary. The state has mandates that the courts must meet as far as ADA, safety, security, etc., and at some point (no I don't know when, best guess is 2010), the judges went to the county and said, we need to meet these mandates. There was a lot of study, a lot of meetings, etc., over a period of years if not a decade, before this began to become a reality. And no offense to anyone who helped construct this replica of the historic structure that burned, but the construction was not the best because the money, which was mostly raised by the community in an effort spearheaded at least in part by my husband's grandmother, wasn't there to build the best. In the end, there was black mold, there were lots of leaks not only in the roof but in the brick itself and into the walls. I saw this for myself. It had become so tainted with mold that I personally could no longer go into the building because of my asthma. I hate to see this structure removed just as much as anyone else but there comes a time when older things must go. This structure, as it exists, is an historic replica. It is not historic in and of itself. The things it houses are historic, but the people who must work in it are as important as the documents it holds, and if you wouldn't work in a building full of mold, then county employees should be given that same grace. This is something that needs to be done. In the end, it will be a benefit to the county, to the community, and to Fincastle. Yes, it will change the look of Fincastle, but so did Dollar General, and I bet a lot of you don't hesitate to stop in there.

2. I have more reactions to medication than anyone I know. I was using Nasacort for my ear infection at my doctor's orders and ended up with a yeast infection in a lower orifice.  The yeast infection cleared up almost instantly when I stopped using the nasal spray. These synthetic steroids do not sit well with me.

3. The ground is white with ice and snow. It is more ice than snow, but it snowed first and then crusted over with ice. The temperatures here are well below freezing and not expected to rise anytime in next week. My driveway is icy and I cannot get the car out. I do not ride in my husband's truck because it smells like hay. It's a work truck so it's supposed to smell like hay.

4. I actually like the smell of freshly cut grass, but my body does not. Talk about an allergy-inducing time! When my husband mows the yard in the summer, I go for a drive.

5. I used to mow the yard, back in the 1990s, but I stayed sick and my doctor finally told me I should stop. Then my husband bought a bigger yard tractor, and it was so big that I had to sit on the lip of the seat in order to reach the pedals, and the tractor wouldn't run unless there was weight on the back of the seat, so that ended that. I actually liked mowing the yard. There's a satisfaction in mowing kind of like cleaning up a big mess - you can see the result of what you just did.

6. Fires rage in California again. My husband's cousin has evacuated; she's in the Eaton (?) fire area. She's safe now, but we don't know if she still has a place to live. I have friends online who live in California, too, who are near or close to evacuating. All are without power. One of them called electricity "magical," and when you don't have it and you get it back, it certainly feels that way.

7. Just think of all the things we couldn't do if the electric grid went down. The world as we know it would stop. Eventually, you couldn't even drive because it takes electricity to make petrol and car parts. We'd be back to steam powered, or possibly solar or nuclear power. We take so much for granted, don't we?

8. I read the Kondo book about decluttering. I can't say I took much away from it - that kind of minimalist lifestyle sounds nice but that much cleaning up would take energy I don't have. I did find it interesting that she thanks her things. As in, thank you computer for working so I can write this blog. Thank you, shoes, for taking care of my feet today. I went around for a few days thanking my stuff, and while I can't say that anything I thanked performed any better, I did find it a sort of peaceful gratitude exercise. 

9. I am trying to stay away from politics on my blog these days. I probably won't succeed (see #1 above), but I am not going to change anyone's mind about anything, and people will just have to F around and find out what's about to happen. Maybe I'm wrong and authoritarianism and oligarchy will be the greatest thing ever, but I kind of doubt it.

10. My most recent book reading was The Women, by Kristin Hannah. It was about women who were nurses in Vietnam during the Vietnam War. It was quite engrossing.

11. My friend's mother fell earlier this week, and she is in the hospital with a brain bleed. She is 94 years old. I am quite concerned.

12. I would rather write about good things. What's good? Well, we still have our electricity - I know about 100K in Virginia lost power during the ice storm, but we were lucky. The roads are clear if you can get out on them.

13. Growing old is not fun. What a cruel trick to play on humanity. 

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Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; there is a list here if you want to read other Thursday Thirteens and/or play along. I've been playing for a while, and this is my 888th time to do a list of 13 on a Thursday. Or so sayth the Blogger counter, anyway.

Sick Again

I wrote on December 29 that we were both sick.

I got better. My husband stayed sick.

Now he is getting better, a little, and I am sick. Again.

I had a teleconference with my doctor, and she put me on a different antibiotic because of another ear infection. I must have a left ear that doesn't drain properly.

At any rate, we are making out as well as we can with both of us feeling poorly. Fortunately, we haven't both been at our worst at the same time.

Unfortunately, my driveway is a sheet of ice and the pickup truck is the only vehicle that can get in and out at the moment, which means that if he takes a turn for the worse, there isn't much I can do as far as fetching medicine or groceries.

He did a grocery parking lot pickup yesterday to ensure we had some food here. Since we are expecting more snow, this may have been a crucial stop. And he was out again today picking up my antibiotic.

This is a nasty something, whatever it is. We have tested negative for Covid, so I guess it's just a bad virus, along with my ear infection.

We Had Ice, Ice Baby

 

Hope v. Expectation

"Hope is the thing with feathers," says Emily Dickinson in one of her more famous poems.

It is also something I often feel I am at a deficit in.

Last night I asked my husband what the difference was between "expectation" and "hope." He said they were the same.

I said they were not.

These are the types of discussions I like to have, debates about ideas and philosophies and such. But he is not one to debate.

"When you go to the store, and I think, "Maybe he'll bring me a box of Tic Tacs," what is that?" I asked him.

"A hope, because it seldom happens," he said.

"If I tell you something in the house is broken, am I hoping you will fix it, or do I expect you to fix it?" I replied.

"You're doing both," he said.

And then I have to nag to get it fixed, I replied. And thus ended our conversation.

So, what is the difference between an expectation and a hope?

The kind of intersect, don't they? You can have both, for sure. They relate to our perception of the future and our desires for it.

An expectation is a belief that something will happen based on evidence, reasoning, or prior experience. For example, I expect my husband to fix a leaking sink because he has done so in the past. I do not expect him to pick up his dirty clothes because he doesn't do that often. So, expectations are often tied to specific outcomes, and its foundation is in predictability. I always expected to receive good grades in school, for example. I didn't hope for them. I prepared for tests and did the work necessary for the grade. I expected to be rewarded for my effort with a grade commensurate with the effort I put into it. Expectations are an anticipation that a certain result will materialize.

Hope, on the other hand, is more abstract. It is the optimistic yearning for a positive outcome. I hope my husband will bring me Tic Tacs, but whether he thinks to do that is out of my control (I never call and say, "Bring me Tic Tacs," because the point is I want him to think of me and show me that he does. The Tic Tacs are not the desired goal, really. The display of affection is.) Hope is not confined to logic, effort, or evidence. It is a forward-looking emotional state that allows people to endure hardships, persist in the face of adversity, and dream of possibilities that may seem distant or improbable. For example, we hope someone who is very ill will get better, or we hope we will live long enough to see a human walk on Mars.

The element of control seems to be crucial to the difference between expectation and hope. Expectations are often grounded in the belief that we can influence or predict outcomes. They are rooted in what we perceive as the logical progression of events, and unmet expectations can lead to disappointment or frustration. For instance, if I expect a promotion at work based on my performance and it does not happen, the emotional fallout may be intense, as the expectation was built on tangible evidence. I once angrily quit a job because of a situation like this, a job that in hindsight I should have stayed at.

Hope, however, thrives in uncertainty. It is most potent in situations where control is limited and outcomes are unpredictable. Right now, with ice on the fences and trees, I am hoping the power does not go out. Experience tells me that is a possibility but the odds in realty favor it staying on. I remember my mother held out great hope for her recovery from pancreatic cancer even though the odds were very much against that. Hope can provide comfort and motivation, not because the desired outcome is guaranteed, but because the possibility exists. Hope transcends the boundaries of logic and control, acting as a source of emotional strength.

The emotional consequences of expectation and hope also differ. When expectations are met - when my husband fixes the leaking sink - they can bring satisfaction, but their fulfillment often feels transactional—a simple alignment of reality with pre-established assumptions. However, when expectations are not met, they can lead to bitterness, dissatisfaction, or even a sense of failure, as unmet expectations challenge our perceived control over life. For example, his not fixing the sink would lead to a lot of nagging on my part, creating an uncomfortable scenario for both of us until he fixed the blasted sink.

Hope, though, is more forgiving. If I hope (not expect) that he will fix the sink but doesn't, I eventually either fix it myself (I have many skills) or call a plumber. It doesn't become a personal failure because he didn't do as I asked. Hope nurtures resilience, as it allows individuals to remain optimistic and forward-looking despite setbacks (it would be why I call the plumber). While unfulfilled expectations can close doors, hope keeps possibilities alive.

So what do you think, dear reader? Are expectations and hope two different things? Branches from the same tree? Can you have expectation without hope? Are they two sides of the same coin? Both can influence how we perceive and approach the future. While expectation is grounded in logic, control, and predictability, hope is rooted in optimism, possibility, and resilience. I often say I need to live my life without expectations, because ultimately, expecting people to do what they say they will or behave in a way that their actions indicate, leads to let down. Do you find that to be true? Or am I simply expecting too much out of other people?

Well, I have sat here and discussed this with myself long enough. I think that expectations and hope are different things. I also think I have too many expectations and not enough hope. I wonder if there is some way to turn that around.