Bad Blood

So,  off I went today to donate blood. I'm O-negative and a fondness for red meat or spinach or whatever gives me iron rich blood.  The only time I was ever turned down for a donation was when I didn't quite tip the scales at 110.  Those day are gone, long gone forever.

I answered all the questions and had good answers I thought, except perhaps for one question:  have you had any needle pricks?  Truth be told I've had a bunch.  Our sweet, fat tortoise cat Thisbe is diabetic and gets insulin twice a day.  Bear in mind this is the same expensive insulin that humans take, except of course, Thisbe gets very small doses.  With small thin sharp needles.

This post is written by a person, me, with poor small muscle coordination.  It's always been that way.  Don't ask.  I don't stuff dates.  I sure as hell don't stuff cherry tomatoes.  Knitting?  Nope.  Crocheting?  Surely you just.  A bit of embroidery was my height of needlework?  No jewelry repair.  I can sew on a button, O.K.?  I am challenged if the fingers need to be agile or dexterous. 

The upshot of this is that I stick myself from time to time with Thisbe's needles.  Usually putting the cap back on to dispose of in the needle jar.  Since I've been skewering myself for as long as I've been skewering the cat, with no ill effects, I thought I would be home free with the blood people.  Not. 

Banned for a year.  Now the chances of my not sticking myself for a whole year are remote.  Banned for life.  All that good rich blood.  Alas, Thisbe. 

Typical Day in the Life of a Retiree

Awake at nine and a half-hour in bed with coffee and the still-with-us Boston Globe. Cat comes up for lovey time. Plunks herself down in mid-paper. How sweet it is.

Down to the kitchen and make blueberry pancakes out of yesterday's waffle batter. Two slices of bacon per person, our idea of dieting. It warn't turkey bacon, either.

Clean up kitchen, spot clean tablecloth and throw in a load of laundry. Monday is still washday.

Give Thisbe her insulin shot.

Onto computer for email, blogging, and working on today's reading for the writing group. Wrote 4 pages yesterday. Good for me.

Shower, etc.

Off to Walmart for cat litter, insulin needles, cat food and a few assorted groceries. I used to scorn Walmart, before retirement and the cats many needs.

Looking for rhubard for rhubard bread later in week. Hope it's not $5.99 per lb. again.

Drop off key for cat sitter with instructions.

Baking food processor bread, and freeform blueberry tart. Dinner is a salad with grilled steak (cooked last night) on top.

Watch a little Wimbleton.

Water houseplants.

Print out reading for tonight.

Wine and cheese, then dinner. La-de-dah!

Off to writing group.

Blueberry tart. Maybe a little reading or TV. Insulin to cat again.

Read more of Eat, Pray, Love on Kindle. Lights out!

Surviving a Water Landing

A few years ago, researching a short story that I have yet to write, I ran across the following article which is germane to yesterday's crash landing of a passenger plane in the Hudson River. See the link at the end of this blog.

Isn't it just unbelievably great and cool and wonderful to have a bit of really good news? And with the inauguration coming up, life looks good even if the economy is still in the toilet.

A mini-report on the economy as witnessed by me today: Chinese restaurant C.K. Shanghai in Wellesley, good crowd, good food, cheap menu. I went for General Gau's chicken.

At the AAA in Westwood: lots of people. Like us, they must be getting maps and guides to go somewhere. Price of gas is up again.

At Walmart: again, lots of people, many buying groceries. We got cat litter, cat food, cat diabetic supplies and bottled water. I am buying Fancy Feast without gluten for the diabetic cat.

At the tire store: not crowded but phone ringing and some customers. Ye gods, what a new set of tires will set you back. Holy freakin' crap!

People are out and about and buying lunch, planning trips and cruising the Walmart aisles. This is good.

Here is the link to the water landing site:http://www.equipped.org/watertrees.htm

Friday is Cat Blog Day

A well-behaved Proustian cat. . .

We seem to be getting the knack of the injections (Thisbe and I). The secret seems to be don' t
swab her fur with alcohol. I suspect she knows the smell of alcohol from the vet and the Proustian memories it calls up are not the equivalent of tea and cookies in cat.

No, the latest crisis, well, mini-crisis, is the Eating Of The Christmas Cactus. Our Christmas cacti almost never bloom at Christmas. We've already had the Halloween cactus and the Veteran's Day cactus and now the Thanksgiving cactus. I hope these plants save something for the Holiday they are SUPPOSED to bloom for.

We've been out of cat grass for weeks, and both cats decimated the Baby's Breath that was part of a bouquet. I put the Christmas cactus on the library table where said plant will be easy to admire. Ooops! Thisbe admired it and ate a blossom or two. Probably a spent blossom. Eeek!

I don't wish to gross anyone out, but the vomiting from this little snack was profuse and disgusting and lasted several hours. I was beginning to think "Call Veternarian on a Holiday" when the cat appeared to be all right and stopped tossing her cookies, or in this case her cactus. She actually came upstairs and slept on the bed last night, and seems fine this morning.

Today I will brave Black Friday at the pet store (how bad can it be?) and buy cat grass. Yesterday when I mentioned "Black Friday" on this blog, it immediately received a comment which was actually an ad in not very great disguise. I guess that's why some blog sites make you copy the crooked numerals and letters before you can post. Not a bad idea.

So Black Friday! Black Friday! yada yada.

Apropos yesterday's food contributions: The Brussels-Sprouts-Cauliflower casserole was a winner. I took it from the oven just a few minutes before we had to be out of the house, neglecting to take a picture. It was toasty and brown and a little cheesy (in the good sense) and the pine nuts had turned a golden hue. If you ever need a holiday side dish that is not lo-cal, this one is a winner. And the veggies tasted so good.

The cheese cake was to die for and we probably will, with all that cream cheese and eggs clogging ye olde arteries. I dare not get on the scale today. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week. Maybe Jan. 2nd.

Shop till you Drop, but personally, I'm buying lunch and a couple servings of cat grass.

Meow!

All Is Forgiven

Last night, Thisbe joined us in the living room in front of the fireplace and indicated that "all is forgiven." I went into the kitchen, prepared the syringe, brought it into the living room, swabbed her fur, and gave her the injection, which she appeared not to notice. These are small, fine needles, and that went rather well. She was unfortunately under the bed having "private" time this evening, and I had to wait rather longer than proper timing indicated, but when we got back from my writing group she was waiting for food and I swabbed and jabbed while she was scarfing down moist food.

We're back to moist food, as the web sites dealing with feline diabetes indicate this is the way to go. Far too many carbs in the dry stuff. I'll see. The dry stuff from our vet (available only thru a vet) is for diabetic cats. Right now Thisbe is eating both kinds, and Annie, also porcine, prefers the dry. Annie takes heart medication twice a day. We live in cat sitter hell, that's what.

At the supermarket this morning, the produce truck was LATE. Supposed to be there at 9:00, and not in sight at 11:00. No lemons. No Brussels sprouts. We waited around and waited around and kept accosting the produce people. "They are late because of the holiday."

Grrr. Like the produce people didn't know it was Thanksgiving and might put some extra help on. Finally the truck showed up. I swear to god the Brussels sprouts were unloaded last. We had been hanging out and cooling our heels for a half an hour with entreaties and pleading looks.

Finally, finally the B.S. were brought out and we took four packages, because not only were we doing a side dish for Thanksgiving, but S.O. had it in his head they would be good with the stuffed pork tenderloin tomorrow.

The store didn't charge us for them. Have you ever heard of such a thing? I felt kinda bad, as they were not exactly cheap, and while we seem to be in a financial free fall, we can still buy groceries. They insisted there was no charge. Argued a bit but they were adamant. So thank you for the Brussels Sprouts. We'll enjoy them in good health and and are indeed thankful for your generosity and making us feel the time hanging around and looking at the produce was not time wasted.

Mostly I am thankful that we don't have to eat American Chop Suey one more night. Some wag defined eternity as a ham and two people. I have to say a pound of pasta starts to seem that way by the third night. My oldest kid could, at one time, eat a pound at a sitting. And he stayed skinny. Oh for a metabolism like that in my current years. Yowza! I could eat all the stuff I stay away from. Or try to stay away from.

Yesterday I made oatmeal raisin cookies, a kind of generic cookie from childhood. The recipe made a big batch and there are two bags in the freezer, which is always like manna from heaven. Got the recipe off the Internet. I am getting a good feel for recipes from strange sources. You can look at the seasoning and the fat and get a pretty fair idea if it will be fit to eat.

All recipes calling for margarine are ignored. If all ingredients are "non-fat," that recipe is also disregarded. Low-fat may be all right. We don't object to low, just non. You can always substititute. Healthy salads and veggies are cool. I don't make a lot of desserts, except we like a cookie daily. Seems like one should be able to eat one. Or two. Fresh fruit desserts--yum! Hard to beat fresh fruit. I'm especially fond of Cafloutis.

So I jumped from cat food to people food. Our cats won't eat people food. Won't touch. Won't sniff. It's wonderful. I've had cats that would snake a piece of chicken from a plate with their paws. Cats who ate a half a roast beef. Cats would enjoyed pizza and broccoli and green beans. Cats who want to lick the cereal bowl. Thisbe and Annie are not like those cats.

I am reading a Carl Hiassen book and he showed me how to do a great short flashback. I love his books, which are over the top but in a good, fun way. Great characters, especially the weird bad guys. This book is about bass fishing. I had a bass fishing scene in Promiscuous Mode, but the characters didn't catch any bass. Now I know that bass boats can go fast. You always learn something.

Do you think there are any mysteries where the diabetic cat and the cat with heart trouble solve the crime? I thought not.

Onward,


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Just A Spoonful of Sugar or Maybe Moist Food

Last Thursday morning, we jammed Thisbe into the cat carrier for a vet appointment. She has been eating and drinking like crazy, and we thought that maybe her diabetes was back. It is.

This means I have the honor and privilege of giving her a shot of insulin every day. Just one.

So, the fun began. First of all, a huge (to me) vet bill for the exam and the test. Then I picked up the prescription which could be filled anywhere. We headed to Walmart, hoping that was cheapest.

Oh God, then the fun really began. First of all, the pharmacy was closed for lunch from 1:30 - 2:00. So we cooled our heels buying potting soil and looking for cat grass, which nobody but the pet stores carries anymore.

The pharmacy opened and the pharmacist was very nice, and he didn't say anything when I blanched at the $100.00 price, and the thing is, the medicine is only good for one month and Thisbe only gets one millileter. I got needles and meds and we came home after an expensive detour to Kohl's where everything was so cheap you just had to buy stuff.

Back home, I did a trial run on the needle and the medication, and all was not well. I couldn't seem to make the plunger take the smallest amount. In the meantime, Thisbe got the wind up(who knows how) and disappeared under the bed.

I decided to call it a day.

Yesterday, I practiced with another needle and water, and became quite adept at getting the itsty-bitsy amount of insulin into the needle. Thisbe disappeared under the bed about the time I was thinking about the first shot. She came out to eat, took one look at me, and disappeared under the bed again, into the basement, anywhere, anywhere but in the vicinity of her mistress.

In the meantime, I had somehow expelled the insulin from the syringe.

Today we decided to take a day off, but Thisbe was not fooled and disappeared under the bed after breakfast. When I went up to get dressed, she usually comes out and we have some Mommy/Kitty time. Not this morning.

The damn cat really does have ESP. We're going to play it cool until tomorrow. Maybe she'll calm down.

The fact that the insulin has to be kept in the fridge and the needles sterile and the cat swabbed with alcohol first add to the complexity, as this point the impossibility. Maybe the smell of alcohol triggered a bad memory. Or a new memory from the vet. Maybe she remembers her former experience, when I used to distract her with catnip or get her while she was eating.

She has the wind up. Don't know what to do. And we have $300+ worth of meds, tests, exams and needles going for naught.

Some days you just want to drown your troubles with a cup of hot cocoa. Or something.,

Grapeshot