One Man's Treasure

The other evening as I was taking the barbecue chicken off the grill, I paused as the local church's carillon started up. 

It was playing "All Through the Night," a Welsh hymn that always strikes a chord with me. (Pun semi-unintentional.) I listened to the entire rendition before returning to the kitchen. 

That's what we get in this lifetime, right? Moments. If we're lucky, there are long stretches of peace, but life for us these last months has been hardscrabble, with glimpses of light and joy. 

Mr. Ginley has been reaching for those glimpses by going through books and papers he's saved. I cannot tell you how many pounds of paper have hit the recycling bin. But there are gems, too, in correspondence, articles, ephemera, and even old check registers. 

"This says I loaned you $50," Mr. said the other day. "When are you going to pay me back?" 

"Hey, look at this, I gave Lisa money for tickets to a Rush concert."

"Here's the down payment for the place we stayed at when we went to Cape May in 1987."

Then there are other random articles that evoke memories of their own.

Although the garbage can runneth over, there are still plenty of "keepers." One of those is an old yellow raincoat. It was from Mr.'s days working at J.B. Robinson Jewelers. He used it when he was unloading trucks on the dock. When it was relatively new, the printer, Bruce T., borrowed it and unintentionally christened it with black printer's ink. He offered to buy Mr. new one; instead, it remained at the office. When JBR closed up, it came home with Mr. Now, every time he sees it, it brings back only happy memories.

It's been good for Mr. Ginley to sort through all of this stuff. He's enjoyed it, although there's a certain sadness to letting go of so much of it. Still, it's better to do it now when old treasures are cherished and remembered. Who but he would keep an old raincoat?

The good news is, the shredding has been completed. The bad news is, the office looks like the place was hit by a confetti cannon. Fortunately, that's an easy fix. Nothing a little vacuuming can't take care of. I suppose it's also as good an excuse as any to vacuum the rest of the house. 

Better get to it!

P.S. Special thanks to Paul for fixing the front door for us this week. No more loud bang when guests depart. And to Joe for trucking out yet more boxes of books. It was nice to have you over for breakfast, Pooch!

Shredded

"I want to be a useful engine," said Mr. Ginley. 

It was a reference to the Thomas the Tank Engines books we used to read to our son. In the rail yard, it was Thomas' purpose in life to make himself useful.

"Why not shred that box of documents in the office?" I suggested. This served two purposes: disposing of old documents that had been slated for the shredder years ago and removing one more box to return the office to a usable workspace.

Of course, the shredder is not the industrial kind, so it overheats after a round or two of hard labor. Then you have to rest it for an hour or three. 

During that downtime, Mr. started working on the area in and around the desk. He's had quite a time strolling down memory lane. There have been lots of random slips of paper with notes and quotes. Photographs. Office bibs and bobs (paper clips and such). Our son's school papers and baseball rosters. And hundreds of flash drives. (I do not exaggerate here.)

It's wonderful to be opening up the space, but it's also exhausting for Mr. Ginley. By the end of the day, he's physically knackered but also sagging under the weight of revisiting the past and wondering what the future holds. 

And I'm left wondering how long it will be until we stop trailing little slivers of paper all over the house.

Photo attribution: Андрей Москаленко, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons

What's the Buzz(ard)?

 "Somebody on Facebook took a picture of a turkey vulture," I said to Mr. Ginley, handing him my phone.

"That's a buzzard," he replied confidently. "We're from Cleveland. We call them buzzards."

Of course, he was referring to Buzzard Day in Hinckley, Ohio, when they celebrate the return of this ungainly raptor every March 15th. Also, WMMS, Home of the Buzzard.

attribution below

We do seem to be defined by our fowl in this berg. Buzzards aside, Parma, my hometown, has embraced the pink flamingo as its bird of choice, thanks to the mid-century lawn ornaments that once graced its landscaping. (I guess it's better than having a lawn jockey or a chrome ball as your beloved symbol.)

By now, you've surmised things have been slow at the Ginley household, and I'm A-OK with that assessment. 

Yes, I had a birthday this week, thanks for the birthday greetings, the cards (Mr. Ginley and Linda), the flowers (Denise and Lisa), and the birthday cake (Mark). Not to mention breakfast last Sunday with Joe, that was wonderfully normal. 

Oh, yes, and the plumbing work was completed yesterday. Why is it that whenever you have work done, it creates a related chore for you to do? They had to cut a large hole in the back of our closet, which I now need to cover. The question is, do I want to spend another $100+ on an access panel, try to patch it with drywall, or nail a piece of board over it? I mean, no one is going to see it, I just don't like the idea of a gaping hole in the back of my closet. I'm leaning toward option #3.

Meanwhile, we've gotten crickets from the PT team. They did say the meter would run out on home care about mid-July, and it seems that's what's happening. Looks like we're on our own now.

Mr. Ginley is busy sorting and dispensing with books and papers. We're hoping to clean out the office to make it accessible for him. Maybe the kitchen table can go back to being a place where we can eat without shuffling laptops and paperwork. We'll see.

Sorry to be so ho-hum this week. The weather has been lovely the past few days, and my mood should really be better than it is, but here we are. I spent several minutes watching the wild bunny in the backyard nibbling clover this morning. And I see that the bees love the Rose of Sharon bushes. I'd like to be more like them, just going about my business without fretting or fussing.

Wouldn't it be nice?

Photo attribution: Rhododendrites, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons

(Trying to) Keep Calm and Carry On

It was a pretty quiet week. 

With Spongebob, at the Westlake Library, in the beforetimes

Mr. Ginley continued to make progress with his PT. The visiting nurse said farewell. And Annie, his physical therapist, promised to work with us on getting him in and out of the car. That's the next big thing, and we can't wait until we can get Mr. out of the house for something other than a doctor visit. Maybe a stop at Swenson's and a talk (if not a walk) in the park.

Yesterday, Joe came over and helped Mr. wrap up some of the files on his computer. He carted away several boxes of books for us, thus giving us a little more room to move about the cabin.

Dennis the plumber came about the cracked pipe in the basement. It's related to the downstairs toilet, so I figured they might as well install a bigger, ADA-compliant crapper since they have to take the current one out anyhow. Dennis also suggested we take the door off the bathroom to give Mr. more room to get in there when he's a little more ambulatory. Joe helped me do that yesterday. 

Like every home project, it grows and grows. The pipe is right next to built-in cabinets in the basement, so they'll need to cut into those. Which means I had to remove all the junk we've shoved in there for the 33 years we've been in the house. Paint cans, hazardous waste, dishware, and random appliances. (I'd forgotten all about the yogurt maker, maybe it's time to try it again. I wonder if I still have the instructions somewhere.)

The work will take place next Wednesday. The quote for the work made my heart stop for a few seconds, but needs must. Nothing comes cheap these days. I think the house is feeling its 100-year-old age.

As for me (if anyone is still reading this), I started exercising again this week, and I'm feeling a little better. The knees still protest when I sit for any length of time, but overall, I'm enjoying a little more flexibility, which they say is clutch for us old folk.

I'm also thinking of requesting a Reiki healing session with the woman who was my instructor several years ago. Our lives have been so cattywampus since The Awful Day, I feel like I need an attunement to help get me back on track.

That's about all the news from here. I hope everyone is enjoying their summer. 

Hopefully, the smoke will clear soon (Oh, Canada), and we'll all be able to breathe better again.

And yes, I meant that figuratively as well as literally. 

Independence Days

"You're not stacking the dishes properly," Mr. Ginley admonished me the other night. "I showed you the most efficient way to do it, but you're not doing it that way."

at the lake, from the beforetimes

Admittedly, I lost it. I've been doing all the chores since that awful day, including washing the dishes every evening. I figure if I'm the one doing the task, I should be able to do it the way I'm comfortable doing it.

I threw down my sponge and said, "Fine, you stack them then."

Which he proceeded to do.

A truce was called, and it was decided that from now on, I'm going to wash and rinse, and Mr. Ginley will stack the dishes. He'll also dry any oversized items.

It occurred to me that this is part of his recovery, working toward his independence. 

His bigger mission this week was to cull through the hundreds of books in the living room. I've lost track of how much reading material is heading off to new homes. Our son is coming over soon to cherrypick any of the ones he wants before they go to either Half Price Books or one of the libraries for their book sale. (If y'all are in the neighborhood and looking for reading material, feel free to stop by.) 

This week marked another milestone, as Mr. has been out of bed and in his wheelchair the most he's ever been in the last several months. In our new routine, he completes his morning constitutional, has breakfast, and hits the wheels at around 11:00. Then he's up until the dishes are done in the evening, usually around 8:00 or so. 

In addition to going through his books, he sits at the kitchen table and reads, watches the World Cup, or dabbles a little on his computer. His eyesight troubles slow him down but don't stop him.

As for his PT, it seems to be winding down. His therapist is encouraging Mark and me to help him transition to his chair (aka "The Cloud"). We did that yesterday, and it went okay. No spills, no thrills. (That's a good thing.)

Today is spa day, which is nice and relaxing. It's also lawn-cutting day, which is not so relaxing, but needs must. Also, I need to check the blackberries. Hopefully, they haven't all ripened and fallen off yet. Alas, it's been so dry, the last one I tasted wasn't very good. 

Our big decision of the day will be whether we want to continue the tradition of Chinese food for dinner or if we want to try something different.

Do you think Dragon Towers will miss us if we defect to another cuisine?

A Quick Update

Not much new to report this week. Mr. Ginley is spending more time in the chair, and less in bed, which is great. He continues to get stronger at transitioning from bed to chair and back, which is also clutch. And he walked back and forth across the room in his one-and-only PT session this week. 

USDAgov, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons*

Meanwhile, the dreaded "check engine" light came on in my car. Nothing that throwing a few hundred bucks at it didn't solve. The trouble was caused by a squirrel or some other rodent chewing the wires under the hood. I put moth balls under the car and have ordered a solar-powered deterrent system that uses high-frequency sound and strobe lights. We'll see how this goes.

The other snafu this week was Mr. Ginley's bed controller, which became temperamental about raising up his head. It worked, then didn't, then did. A tech came out and installed a new controller, so that's taken care of.

I got my teeth cleaned and my hair cut, each performed by a "Sherrie," both of whom are grandmothers-to-be. What are the odds?

That about wraps up our excitement here. Hope y'all have fun plans this weekend.

Confidential to the robo caller with the 216-998-four last digits that change every time: Please stop calling me three times a day. You can't have my money. Shoo. Shoo. 

*Meet Park Land Rancher Ned Wood. He came up when I was looking for images to use and typed in "electric squirrel." I have no idea why, but I was so tickled and he looks like a nice guy, so I thought, "why not?" Happy 4th, Ned!

A Return to Normal-ish

"Maggie started calling me 'Ironside,'" Mr. Ginley reported to me the other day. "But she said she can't take on any assignments because she's not allowed to go out of the house."

I guess you could say things are getting back to "normal" here.

With a monkey friend in the beforetimes

Aside from a high blood pressure issue we're trying to sort out, Mr. Ginley is doing pretty well. He spent 8 hours in his wheelchair yesterday, which is a record for him. And he's trying to do more things for himself to take the burden off me, especially when I'm trying to work. All good stuff.

The kitchen table has become his office. He reads a page or two at a time out of his book and writes himself notes. And I set up his computer so he can access files and such. He still needs help finding things, but the effort is there. 

We're hoping to venture out this weekend, weather permitting, even if it's only to stroll to the corner or sit and relax in the backyard.

Next weekend is a holiday weekend, and I'm looking forward to it. My company generously gave us 2 days off, and I tagged on an extra vacation day to go to the dentist. I'm also getting my hair cut and colored. The last time I had anything done to my 'do was right before the awful day last October. I can't wait to lose the wild woman look.

Special thanks to those of you who visit, call, send cards, follow his progress, and otherwise check in. Your presence in his life has kept his spirits up.

We're grateful to you all!