Early Spring

There have been years when there has still been snow covering the ground well into the first weeks of April so to have daffodils blooming during the third week in March is a first in the 20 years we've lived in our home.  The 70's of last week are gone but the warm temperatures rushed things along and the forsythia have already bloomed. Now that we're back into the 40's Mother nature has reverted back to her usual pace.

I saved some garlic from the farmer's market and planted it last fall; it is up and growing well.  I ordered 3 different types of potatoes which arrived this week and are now chitting on the 3-season porch, to help them grow more quickly once they are placed in the ground. The onions that came with the order are already in the soil. Last year I learned that onions need the cool temps of early spring in order to grow roots. When planted too late they will sprout but not increase in size. Live and learn!

Garlic

I love the blue of the scilla which bloom in large clumps around the yard. I'm fortunate that the previous owner of the home was a wonderful plantswoman; she had quite a number of shrubs, perennials and bulbs planted in the gardens.

Scilla siberica

White peony shoots. I love the way they look like hands reaching for the sky

Another Chair Affair

I found this chair on Craigslist over the winter and thought the lines were pretty in addition to the price being right. I didn't care for the upholstery but planed to change it. Yesterday was that day. 

The worst part, as in the previous chair, was the removal of the old upholstery and staples, which took up most of the morning and early afternoon. First the back and arm pads were replaced:

I thought I might stop there and finish the next day, but once a project is begun I have a difficult time putting it aside. The seat went more quickly, possibly because I had a system down. I'm happy with the finished product and like the colors so much more than the original, which looked very blah in our bedroom. Now we have a perfect reading chair!

Our Bodies, Ourselves

Wherever you go, there you are. - Unknown

"Emancipate yourself from mental slavery, none but ourselves can free our minds" - Bob Marley

This post has been a very long time in coming. There is a bottleneck somewhere in my mind and although there is much to say, the words are squeezed together and stuck; some things I'm still figuring out. Maybe if I start the process, whether or not it makes sense, things will start to flow again.

In the past 2 months the foundation of my world has been shaken; I've always thought myself fairly grounded but I felt as though I completely lost my footing and all the coming to terms I'd done with my mortality went out the window. If not for Joe, Wilson, my parents and close friends I wouldn't have had the strength to manage.  In the past, when recovering from  a health decline or crisis I've felt moments of gratitude, a special heightened awareness and appreciation for life, but the times were fleeting and once I was recovered that heightened awareness would dwindle.

Not this time; I feel so thankful and also much more aware of the fragility of life. Everyone who survives a shock says the same thing, "Life can change in a second, you just never know". One moment things are fine, you are going about your day and the next your world is upside down. Yet somehow nothing has changed. It's a trick to incorporate the new information into your world, learn and grow from it, allow it to make you a better person. That's what I'm still working on.

Regardless of what our bodies go through, we are in charge of our minds. We are the only ones who can decide whether we will be prisoners of our physical bodies or if we can break the bonds of our mental slavery and rise above it all.

With Heavy Heart

There are far better photos of Gomer than this one, but this was the one that jumped out at me when I was searching through the archives in order to write this blog.  He loved to be cozy and wrapped up in a tight space, so much so that when he was younger he broke several fabric-lined baskets by trying to squeeze his large bod into them.  Over the past few months he divided his time between an undersized bed by the radiator and "his" bed in the living room.  Both cozy fur-lined cups that he was able to snuggle down into, providing a cozy nest, which he loved.

Sunday night at 11pm our sweet Biggin was euthanized after a long, happy and adventurous life.  He was 17 and showing his age over the past year; a seizure Sunday afternoon was the definitive sign we needed. The frightened look in his eyes following the seizure helped us know that he didn't want to be put through that again. His devoted vet met us at the office at 10:45 pm just so we didn't have to put him through another night. A final act of above and beyond kindness after many years of care.

I've written of the manipulation we used on Joe to adopt him so I won't belabor that story. Suffice to say I'm glad we gave him an additional 16 years that he wouldn't have otherwise had if he had stayed at the shelter. He loved the outdoors, both he and Benji bolting like racehorses out of the starting gate first thing in the morning. If it was still dark, all the better, there would hopefully be some night creatures to chase.  Even in his last year, weather permitting, he would always do one lap around the yard, sniffing a bush here, marking another there, to warn off any trespassers. His favorite spot to sleep was on the side kitchen steps where the sun shone the longest and warmed him even on a chilly day.

He had enough personality for several cats. Before he became arthritic, he used to love to ride around on Wilson's shoulders, draped like a feline stole. It required a heavy barn jacket to protect him from Gomer's unintentional scratches; he was just trying to hold on. He was a snugly lap cat, deciding from the moment we brought him home from the shelter that Wilson was "his" human; he slept on Wilson's bed at night from his adoption during Wilson's kindergarten until the time he left for college.  He was always overjoyed and had plenty of greeting meows and purrs each time Wilson came home for a visit or vacation. The buddies were reunited again.

This morning the house seems strangely quiet without his occasional loud meows and the click of his nails on the hardwood. When I go into the office to use the vest, my eyes immediately go to the place he slept by the radiator, only to see bare floor and no Gomer.
I'm thankful to have the girls to distract me from his absence, but know that they won't be able to fill the space left now that he is gone. There will never be another like him, nor would I want there to be.  We had great years together and this really feels like the end of an era, but I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat. Rest easy, sweet Gomer. I'll always miss you.

More Machine Makeovers

                                                                         The Before:

1904 Singer 66:  Before soaking the bobbin mechanism in Evapo-rust. The machine worked, but was noisy and looked pretty grungy.

The After:

After a good soak and some polishing with metal cleaner the parts are restored back to their shiny condition and the sewing is much quieter.

Another example of what this cleaner can do: the knob on the left was soaked overnight and polished; the one on the right was just polished. I was shocked to see the difference! You can bet I'm soaking all 4 overnight tonight. The cabinet is going to be real purty once the drawers are urethaned and put back on. 

The Before:

1951 Singer 15-91
A great gear-driven machine that will sew through practically anything, it leaves a little bit to be desired in the looks department. The decals on the front of the bed have been worn away from so much use.

The stitch-length indicator's numbers have been rubbed off and the plate is scratched and dull. 

The After:

Stitches per inch are once again visible after many unsuccessful tries at repainting the plate. Who knew spray paint wouldn't stick to galvanized steel? And who knew the plate was galvanized steel in the first place? Well, now I do.

Repainted bed of the machine with brand-spankin' new decals. Thankfully, spray paint sticks to cast iron. It's not perfect but it is much better and I'm pleased with the results! 

Old Cats, New Tricks

Ever since I picked up a book on toilet-training cats years ago I've been intrigued by the idea. The author claimed that it was possible to toilet train a cat by incrementally moving the litter box close to the toilet, raising it up, placing it on, then in, the toilet and once the kitty is used to this spot for doing his/her business, finally removing it.  He made it sound quite reasonable and the thought of not having to scoop "treasures" out of the litter pan is appealing. The girls are smart enough and willing to learn new things so I figured we have nothing to lose (except the use of the downstairs bathroom while the training is going on!)

Over the course of 2 weeks we moved the box next to the toilet, raised it up on books gradually so that it was at the same height, and then placed it on top. So far, so good. Granted, we do have 2 other litter boxes in the basement which we'll keep there for Gomer and so the girls don't decide to leave 'surprises' around the house if the training doesn't go well, but there is plenty of evidence that the box on the toilet is being used regularly.

Today I replaced the litter pan with a small tray that fit perfectly down into the toilet bowl; this is a big step as it is much smaller than the girls are used to. Hopefully they'll be in the habit and will continue to use it.  If not, I'll need to go back to the bigger box set on the toilet for a few more days and try again with the tray next week. With any luck, in another week or two they'll be making deposits into the toilet without any litter there.  Best of all, we'll have the use of our downstairs bathroom again.

Admitting the Problem

Hi. My name is Kim and I'm an addict.

They say the first step to recovery is to acknowledge the problem. Well, consider it acknowledged.

In my defense, one of my best friends is a total enabler. She's not exactly my supplier, but did call me up and let me know where to find it. Even offering to put down a deposit for me and drive me to pick it up.  I have no willpower and was unable to resist. See? It's not completely my fault. Really.

The funny thing is, I don't feel bad about it. Isn't there supposed to be some kind of guilt, or remorse? Concern for what my family is going through? I have none. Just that endorphin rush which, I suppose, is part of the addiction.

My substance of choice is cast iron, and in this case, a wooden cabinet and treadle.

Yes, I did it. Another machine. I swear, this one is my last. (I know, that's what I said after the featherweight, but this time I REALLY mean it)

How could I resist? A 1904 Singer 66 treadle machine with Egyptian Lotus design on it- stunning! Mary found it tucked in a corner of a musty smelling antique shop, a bit dusty and in need of a good cleaning. Still working, according to the shop owner, it had belonged to a 92 year old woman who had just died. Clearly, it has seen a lot of use, and at some point was converted to electric with a motor and light.

After heaving it into the back of the car and getting it home the stripping began. I wish I had taken a 'before' photo but I was in such a hurry to clean her up I didn't think of it. The ironwork base and treadle were quite rusty but cleaned up fairly well with a liberal spray of WD-40. The cabinet was in decent condition but definitely needed stripping. Have I mentioned how much I love my hand-held sander? It was fairly quick work and I was able to get the top and large drawer sanded down to bare wood and stained all in one afternoon.  I need to do the 4 side storage drawers but they shouldn't take too long.

I removed the machine from the cabinet and will clean and oil, and wax it. The decals are in fairly good condition for their age. After a few days of oiling the exterior I'll use some nice caranuba wax on it to give it a shine and protect the finish.

The shop owner gave me the name of a man in Salem who used to work for singer who is a good source for antique machine parts. The machine will need a new belt for both the motor and treadle as well as a rubber ring for the bobbin-winding mechanism but otherwise seems to be in good working order.  I can't wait to finish the cabinet and take her for a test sew!  

Mouse in the House

Sometimes life has a way of delivering exactly what you need, even if you are a cat.

One morning this week when I came down to make coffee, I noticed all 3 of the kitties in the kitchen. Unusual, but I didn't think too much of it, making a beeline for the coffee maker. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Gomer  lurch awkwardly across the room. Oh no, I thought, is he having a seizure or something? Lo and behold, he was after a mouse, which he then paraded proudly around the room, carrying in his mouth. Oh lordy!

He carried it into the living room and put it down, presumably to further enjoy the chase. The mouse ran directly under the couch. It must have been quite a sight, the 3 felines and myself all peering under the couch from different angles.

Mr Mouse made a dash for it and within seconds Gomer had him in his mouth, doing the victory lap, only to set him down again.  More chasing ensued. You'd never have guessed Gomer was 16, the years fell away as he did what cats love to do best. Gracie and Millie seemed willing to take a back seat and let Gomer have his moment in the sun. They enjoyed the chase but deferred to him.

Finally I was able to corral the little creature in a plastic cup. He was definitely befuddled and terrified but I didn't see any wounds on him. I brought him outside where he took a second to get his bearings and then ran off under a pile of leaves. I hope he survived and wasn't any worse for the wear. And that he learned his lesson to stay out of our house!

For the rest of the day Gomer seemed to be on a kitty high, reliving his eventful morning. Maybe it's the medication, or the mouse encounter, or both; whatever it is his appetite is  better and he's definitely more active. Who knew a little thing like a mouse could be such good medicine for an old codger?

Merry Christmas to Me

Ever since I became aware of their existence I've always admired and had a secret longing for the Singer Featherweight. Years ago when I was taking a quilting class a fellow student had one and the teacher ooooh'd and aaaah'd over it.  The class immediately gathered around and was given a rundown as to why these machines are so coveted amongst quilters and machine enthusiasts.

They are small, weighing in at only 11 lbs and fit easily into a carrying case. Having been made before the age of "everything is plastic" they're all metal (except for the drive belt) and require very little maintenance. Because the machine is so simple, they are easy to repair; there were quite a few produced from the 30's to the 60's so parts are readily available. In addition to being sturdy little workhorses, they are very pretty, with their shiny black enamel surfaces and gold lettering and scrollwork. Their value is determined not by their ability to sew, but by the condition of the enamel and gold paint.

I happened to be browsing ebay when a Featherweight in what looked to be very good condition appeared, which was reasonably priced. Because these machines are highly desirable and collectible, they can be quite expensive. I closed my eyes and put in a bid once I realized that the location was a mere hour and a half from our house. I decided to leave it to the fates and not bid or check again until the next morning.

Lo and behold, I won the auction! Buyers remorse immediately set in and I was sure it would be in much worse condition than I expected or that there was some major mechanical problem with the machine. Expectations lowered, I arranged to pick it up over the weekend.

I was relieved and delighted to find that it was indeed in very good condition and after a bit of fiddling with the bobbin and upper thread  tensions it sews perfectly, like the day it was made. The motor truly purrs. The machine needed a bit of cleaning and there was some old tape residue on the platform, but once that was removed and a coat of wax applied, it  looks beautiful. There are a few scratches in the paint, as you'd expect from a 60+ year old machine that has been used, but the scrollwork and lettering are in great shape. The provided manual gives detailed instructions on oiling the moving parts and where to grease the gears. I love that it's possible to provide my own maintenance for the machine. If well taken care of, it should be running smoothly for another 60 years.

In order to take it for a test run, I finished sewing the Christmas gift for my mother-in-law on it. Amazing!  Does this mean I'm not going to use my gorgeous, computerized, state-of-the-art modern machine? Heck no! I love my Janome which still runs perfectly after  7 years. There are certain advantages to modern technology and I love working with it. Though it is portable, it's very heavy and not something I'd want to lug around, if not for the weight then out of fear that I'd upset some of the computerized parts with too much jostling.

I have no problem rationalizing this frivolous purchase. I didn't need another, since I have a terrific sewing machine that has never given me a day of trouble (along with 2 other antique Singers.....hmmmm, do I have a problem?)  I will eventually downsize and sell the other Singer machines, but for now I'm just so excited to have a little piece of coveted quilting history.

Unexpected Gift

I've been lucky enough to live with some of the best cats one could ever imagine. After adopting the first, Miss Kitty, who was only with us for 5 years due to a mysterious cardiac condition, we were blessed with Charlotte and Benji. Then along came Gomer- an "unplanned adoption" whom Wilson and I shamelessly guilted Joe into agreeing to. I can't speak for Joe but I know I've never regretted the manipulation, even for a moment.

Initially he was so sick from an upper respiratory infection (something not uncommon in shelter cats) in addition to his "man surgery" we were quite concerned. Several trips to the vet for exams and fluids along with the antibiotics finally paid off; after 10 days of sequestration Gomer was finally ready to come out and meet the rest of the family. Once he was up and about there was quite a bit of sniffing underneath the door by Benji and Charlotte so they had exchanged scented messages, but no face-to-face meetings because we didn't want to infect Charlotte and Benji with whatever illness Gomer had.

Introductions went very well and Gomer assimilated into the family without any trouble. True to his ginger color, he was affable and affectionate. He and Benji hit it off and enjoyed playing outside and snuggling together inside. After hearing many disaster stories of attempts to add a new cat to households over the years I'm amazed that he was accepted so well, but am grateful there wasn't even a hiss or a swat.

This all happened back in 1995, when Wilson was in kindergarten. Over the years  Gomer accompanied us on walks to school (along with Benji and sometimes Charlotte- all 3 of our  cats were very dog-like) and enjoyed playing in the yard but always came in at night to sleep with Wilson. He's had his mishaps over the years, including a nasty row with Whitey Bulger one summer (though Benji's left ear took the brunt of those battles) as well as a mysterious bite at the base of his tail, which we always suspected Benji of, but could never prove. Despite fiercely defending his territory he never was anything but sweet and loving to us.

Now he remains the last one of our Original Three, not surprising since he was the younger than Benji and Charlotte by a few years. He's 16 by the vet's estimation, no small feat for an in-and-outdoor cat. These days, he spends most of his time indoors curled up in his favorite bed. His once voracious appetite has dwindled to picking at his food and several trips to the vet over the past 6 months have showed continued weight loss. Sadly, the vet thinks he has lymphoma, which is causing the weight loss, since most other diagnoses have been ruled out. We won't definitively confirm the suspicion since we wouldn't opt for treatment at his age, which would consist of chemotherapy. The plan is to keep him as happy and comfortable as possible for his remaining time.

At his age, I suppose every day is a gift, but as his family we nevertheless delude ourselves into thinking he'll be with us always.  Now that we know for sure he won't be, and that his days are numbered, instead of dwelling on the fact that he is dying, I'm finding myself being more aware of his presence and enjoying the time we have with him. Each opportunity to curl up on the couch with him, scratch his chin or give him a gentle brushing is savored.  He's adjusted to (though doesn't enjoy) the twice a day Prednisolone pills because he knows a tasty meal will follow. The drug has seemed to stimulate his appetite and he's eating better. I confess to letting him have his fill of chicken every time I cook it.

I do feel very sad at the thought of losing our long-time family member, but surprisingly it has also given me the gift of appreciating the time at hand even more. I'm thankful we've had Gomer in our family to enrich our lives in more ways than it's possible to count, and for his important reminder in his last days to remain present in the moment and not to dwell on what is in the future. Thank you, Biggin.

What a Lucky Person I Am

As I was leaving the hospital after the last of 3 medical appointments I've had this week I felt a huge wave of gratitude wash over me. It wasn't the weather- cold and pouring rain; nor the traffic which was stop and go all the way home. It might have been the chicken dinner that was waiting for us which cooked in the crock pot while I was out, but I'm fairly certain it was the fact that I have such awesome doctors.

Cardiology was first on Monday. They were a tad concerned because my blood pressure was on the low side, something that was the norm until the past 18 months. I was instructed to lower my blood pressure medication if I had dizziness or if my BP is consistently below 100 systolic. Otherwise, they are very pleased with how I am doing and encouraged me to keep up with the exercise and yoga.

Next I went to the CF clinic. Amazingly, my PFTs weren't down as much as I thought they might be, which was great news. My physician thought that there might be some residual systemic inflammatory response after my root canal/extraction adventure and that made a lot of sense. In addition, it's allergy season for me on top of the fact that I have let myself get run down over the past several weeks. Ten days of Levoquin and a month of inhaled antibiotic with more rest and exercise. I left with my instructions feeling a huge sense of relief that I wouldn't need intravenous antibiotics. Whew!

The third, and final, appointment was with my PH doctor. He'd like to try me on a once a day anti-PH medication instead of the 3xday pills that I'm currently on. Popping an extra couple pills three times a day isn't a big deal in the scheme of things, but the fact of the matter is that it's a challenge for me to remember that mid-day dose. Taking the pills with meals doesn't help me much because I often eat 4-5 times a day and don't stick to a 3-meal a day schedule. I did  buy a medication alarm which helps tremendously, as long as I'm within earshot.

So, one dose per day with the same (or possibly better) effects will be a huge plus. The down side is that there can be more side effects, but thankfully they are short-lived for the most part. I've had some muscle/joint aches on the increased dose but as predicted they did resolve within 2 weeks. There isn't any official data on how this medication works compared to my current one, but both the doctor and nurse thought that people tended to notice more benefit and did better on it. Sign me up! It will take several weeks to get insurance approval and receive the medication from my mail order pharmacy, but at least things are underway and I should have it by mid-November.

The doctor mentioned that there are several more CF patients who have been referred to him in the past 6 months, confirming his suspicion that this type of PH is indeed linked somehow to CF. This is an area that will need to be explored and studied and is certainly an area of CF medicine which will be expanding in the future as the population ages.

My feeling of extreme gratitude on the drive home was because my doctors (all 3 of them!) and I were able to figure out what was going on and - the best part- are able to treat it. Yes, I still need oxygen for strenuous activity, but for routine things and just strolling around I'm able to get by without it.  If not for this dream team of doctors and their (and my) persistence I might have continued to decline and nobody would have thought it extraordinary- after all CF and shortness of breath in a 46 year old- not a huge shocker.  I know there have been patients who came before me who never had an explanation for a sudden decline. I am incredibly thankful to have been given my life back and to have an answer to my sudden change in health. I am very lucky indeed.

Cold Cream Recipe

Yet another home made recipe I want to hang on to and I know if I put it here I'll easily be able to put my hands on it when I want it. Not that I'll need to make it again for quite some time, mind you, but it's always good to keep it in a safe place.

Rose Water Cold Cream


0.5 oz stearic acid
0.5 oz palm oil
4 oz. sweet almond oil
rose hydrosol (rosewater)

Melt hard the oils and combine with almond oil and rose hydrosol. Stick blend until combined, allow to cool and pour into jar. Great for removing makeup!

Cleaning House

Fall seems a great time to make changes in life. I think the Jewish calendar is definitely on to something with this being their New Year. There's something intuitive about nature and the gardens closing up shop, setting in for the winter months of hibernation. Spring brings freshness and renewal, but fall is a time for clearing out and paring down.

Mother nature assisted us this past week, whether we wanted it or not, by surprising us with a 5.5" rain storm - all in a matter of 3 hours. The sump pump we have in our basement was incapable of keeping up and we accumulated 9" of water in our basement and garage, a first in the 20 years we have been in this house. Sure, there's been an inch of water after a huge snow melt or week of rain, but it was really bizarre to see things actually floating around when I descended the basement stairs.

 I should have known something was wrong even before I went down there; Gracie was head-butting my leg while I was washing up in the upstairs bathroom, something she never does. Both she and Millie were quite perturbed at all the water, so much that one of their litter boxes was afloat.


We were very fortunate that the sump was able to remove most of the water within a few hours; the rest was able to be mopped up with towels wrung into a bucket and emptied outside. Fans and the dehumidifier took care of the dampness over the next few days. Amazingly we didn't lose any major appliances- the washer/drier/furnace all worked after the water receded. The things we lost were just things we were storing - mostly because we could - some old doors, screens, carpeting and the like, all of which was tossed on trash day.


Will we miss any of it? I doubt it. None of it was being used and we probably would have gotten rid of it years ago had we not had the storage space in the basement. There may come a time in the future when we'll say: "oh, too bad we don't have such-and-such, it would have come in handy right now" but it really isn't a practical way to live life, hanging on to things "just in case". Maybe this was Mother Nature's way of reminding us that it's better to let things go and not hang on to stuff for which we have no need at the present moment.


The basement does look a lot better without all the junk laying around and it's nice to be a bit less cluttered. In the next couple weeks I'm hoping to do more work down there, getting rid of things we don't use (unless they are things Wilson will need when he sets up house) and donating them. That way, if and when we have another reminder from Mother Nature we'll already be prepared.

To Market, to Market

The day couldn't have been any more beautiful; when we arrived at 7:30 the air was chilly but it soon warmed up with the sun on our backs and by noon we were perspiring. The weathermen had predicted 80 but it was difficult to believe when the previous day had been only 60.

This was the first farmer's market we had ever attended and it was a lot of fun. The traffic seemed a bit lighter than usual but it may have been because we were tucked over in a corner next to the tennis courts. We were, however, placed between a highly successful bakery (the aromas were intoxicating!) and a jam/preserve-maker. We bought a sticky bun and a loaf of olive bread from the bakery, both of which were amazing.

Sales were sporadic but good-enough, and it was fun to see some friends stop by. All in all, a good (but tiring) four hours. I'm looking forward to the next one in 2 weeks! Off to make some more soap......

Last Piece to the Puzzle

During the painting process we ended up shifting some of the furniture around, which left a space next to the fireplace. I knew exactly, in my mind, what size/style of chair I wanted to put there, but it was a matter of waiting for the right situation to come along.

Then, a post on Craigslist: free chair, the next town over. I quickly replied and somehow managed to shove it into the trunk of my little hatchback. Eventually, it will get new upholstery, but for now, it's exactly what I was looking for!

Finally we have enough seating in our living room to have company. C'mon over!