The Mitford Life

 Marta's Journey. I've ambled here and there in my posts. A little commentary, a recipe or two, day to day happenings... For the most part it reads like a Jan Karon Mitford book. For those not familiar with the Mitford series, which by the way I highly recommend, Father Tim is an Episcopal priest and lives in a small bucolic town in North Carolina. That about sums it up. He has adventures, a small crisis or two, a few highlights, but overall, his life is pretty level. That's why I love reading these books.
What I see on TV, or scroll through on my Facebook page can turn a fairly decent day into a death spiral in a matter of minutes. I get weary of angst and carnage bombarding my eyes and ears, especially when I don't seek it out. So, yes, call me Pollyanna and I enjoy wearing rose colored glasses, thank you very much.

However, I've now been torn out of Mitford, North Carolina and plopped smack dab in New York City - the bad side, during a blizzard and garbage strike.

My new journey began a year ago in January. I've had issues down in the south end of my body for quite awhile. Diagnosed with the dreaded hemorrhoid, I figured this was my cross to bear and moved on with life. Come January, I had to endure the even more dreaded (cue da-da da dah music) colonoscopy. Yes, sends shivers down the spine of even the most hardy soul. I'll spare you the details of it all (and the collective "thank you" was heard 'round the world). But suffice it to say, the prep is worse than the procedure (well kind of).
I had one of those comedy of error moments going into the procedure, though. About a half hour before I scheduled myself to leave for the hospital, which thank goodness is only about a fourth mile from our house, I got a frantic call from the GI department.
"Where are you?"
"Um, at home?"
"You are suppose to have been here a half hour ago! Your procedure is scheduled to begin in fifteen minutes. We need to prep you."
There we go with that prep thing again. Not good. Not good at all.
Hubster and I dash out the door, arrive in record time, check in at the GI desk and I'm met by Frantic Nurse. I throw my purse at Hubster and am whisked away down the hall and through the "not for public" doors into the pre/post op ward for a quickie prep (vitals, IV and disclosure of any information needed to insure I don't flat line on the table). At this point, I don't have time to worry or panic, which was probably a G~d send.

Fast forward about one hour later (give or take because they drugged me), I emerge from quasi la la land and my gastroenterologist is looking down upon me. Now, I haven't watched many episodes of House, but I know Dr House has a reputation for being blunt, irreverent and a bit rude.
 I met his sister.
I'm not sure if she asked how I was, I don't think so, but her pronouncement was, well, a bit blunt, irreverent and rude.
"We have a problem. You have cancer."

Just like that. No beating around the bush with this one. No, "I saw something suspicious and want you to get further testing". Not even a "why don't you go home a sit on it for a day, we'll get to the bottom of this soon". She gave me the usual post-procedure pep talk, encouraged me to get a CT scan and ultrasound mass measurement, an oncologist and surgeon, shook mine and Hubster's hand and wished us luck.

Next: Now What? or I Think I'd Like to Wake Up From This Nightmare Now, Thank You.

Oh Baby! It's Hot.

Today, I'm taking a cue from my cat, Kleinah.  She understands.

We've been in a heat wave for the past week. And I need to put out this disclaimer. If you live somewhere that borders hell, then have a good laugh and move on.
Last night I posted on facebook, "Is it still hot outside?" It was around 8pm. My SIL aka son-in-love posts that it's 93 degrees outside. Yup, still hot. Then my sis-in-law posts that at 9pm it's 108 where she lives. She wins!
We keep our house at a comfortable 78 degrees to keep from having to go on the dole because of our utility bills. So, for the most part, as long as I don't do pilates in front of the TV, I can stay relatively cool.
I created a veggie lasagna- layers of noodles, mushrooms, gourmet yellow french bush beans, summer squash, (the Japanese eggplant from my  garden wasn't ripe yet - rats!), cottage cheese, provolone, mozzarella and a can of spaghetti sauce. It's chugging along in the crockpot as we speak. Let's keep the kitchen as cool as possible.

And this is were Kleinah comes in. Things I learned from my cat. Find a good comfortable place and - don't move! She knows how it works. The less you do, the cooler you stay.
So for today, I can watch the dust grow, the laundry breed and the carpet sprout another white something-or-other.  I shall follow the lead of my brilliant cat.
Oh, yeah. I see that book calling my name.

Walmart and Growing Grass

I'm sitting here at my computer, fingers poised and ready. Time for a new blog. Uh, time for a new blog. I'm wracking my brain for that first sentence. Should I talk about a new way to fix oatmeal? Maybe a life changing quote I found on facebook? I know - I'll talk about my darling children. Oh, wait, that's right, I
don't have five absolutely darling little kids living at home doing absolutely darling things. Yeah, I know I could go on and on about the Grands. They are darling and cute...
  So here's the dilemma. Nuthin's happened to warrant that prize winning blog. My cat hasn't done anything cute for days. And hairballs in hubby's shoes wouldn't be cute anyway.
 The High Holy days are over, and even though the sukkah is still up, we don't eat in it anymore. The weather is steady and pleasant - no major storms to report, or floods to clean up. Could this be the calm before the storm?? Nah.
So here's my story and I'm stickin' to it. 
I got up this morning, ate breakfast - a scrambled egg with mushrooms, brushed my teeth and fixed my hair. Then I went to Walmart.

I did dress up mind you. No jammy pants or short shorts for me. Ooooo, now that's a scary thought...
Our Walmart is probably tame compared to some, but if you eat at the Subway that's tucked inside near the front door, you can have lunch or dinner and a show. Not a bad deal.
 Anyway, I came home, and will soon prepare Shabbat dinner - stuffed bell peppers and cottage cheese. Oh wait... a hummingbird just drank from the feeder...
So in honor of my life at the moment, grab that someone special, and those lawn chairs. Find a comfy place in the grass - and watch it grow.
And stay tuned. Who knows what may happen next.