Hello all,
sorry I didn't pop in for so long, but the stairs to my 'puter are too much for me on most days, plus I seem to lack the time. :-(
@ Sharon: I wanted to say that your landscaping project has turned out absolutely lovely. Like most in this group I absolutely dig your sofa; gives the whole affair such a nice colonial flair. You'd expect servs in white exotic liveries with a tray of fancy drinks around the corner. Send more pics when the plants have grown a little, please do! As for mulching the flowerbed, I couldn't say if that's a good idea. Probaly you don't get much slugs around your place; here a mulched flowerbed might as well be called a slug Ritz. ;-)
@ Beverly: Did you post any pics of your wardrobe for Nashville yet? I'm so out of touch, but I so want see what you made of the 'dusting rag'. ;-)
@ Kate: I envy you your latest stash acqusitions, but I have to curb my lust for fabric these days. We have to get things in order here before I can think of anything added to the heap of belongings that want a permanent home. Oh, what I had always wanted to say about the Husqvarna: There was no blackend grease in it at all, but that might be part of the problem. When I'd been at the orthopaedist, I nicked to longer syringes with bigger needles so that I can reach the unreachable parts. Don't know when I'll be able to attend to that problem next, thouhg. As for the chocolate buttons: On DD's actual birthday (10. July) I administered her one pack (@ everybody else: they are tiny packs, don't worry) in spoonfuls; they must have suffered from the heat and I tried to unstick them with the package still closed, but the contents had crumbled. However, she LOVED it! ;-)
@ all who did wish well: The surgery went quite well, I think, although they didn't do what they planned to in the first place. They thought the bones inside the ankle joint had been bruised; it turned out, however, that the cartilage (right expression for the stuff that keeps bones in joints from wearing?) was totally destroyed on one side, and there was a nice inflammation. So they cleared out the debris and poked the bone a bit in order to make it regrow some new cartilage. That's why I'm not supposed to put any weight on it (OK, 20 kg, but that's nothing, really).
I'm still in pain most of the time. That is, my GP who took the stitches out on Friday pescribed some more effective painkillers than the orthopaedist and now I can sleep properly again if DD lets me; she caught a cold from her little friend next door by sharing her pacifier with him. Moreover, we had to take out one of the side grids(?) of her cot because I can't lift her over and so she doesn't sleep as well as she used to, wandering around in her room and examining everything in her reach, and waking up several times during the night.
The little stay at my SIL didn't do her too good, either; she's such a headstrong little girl that she needs clear limits set very carefully (you know, tame 'em but don't break 'em). My SIL doesn't believe in this principle; her own son was allowed to leave school at 13 or so, terrorizing over them ever since and now, at the tender age of 27, still living in their guest room and out of their pocket, due to the fact that he didn't learn anything but the names of the players of his favourite soccer club and operating his mobile and a PC for games. But that's another story.
Anyway, SIL offered help in the house for the time after surgery, but we had a nice little argument about how I keep my household (not much worse than yours, Kate, only a little messier now due to stress and limited ability to move in the past weeks), the fact that I feel an obligation towards my cats, too, and that I think it's prefectly OK to give DD a little (really very little) slap on the wrist for repeated misbehaviour (all absolutely age appropriate) and shout a warning or a reprimand at her if she's about to get into a mess. She said a lot of things, I didn't say a fraction of what I thought but tried to appease her without losing too much ground in my own house but in the end she rushed off to the upper story to change the bed linnens with the prediction that 'We'll never become friends'. That hurt a lot, especially since she has treated me for the past three years or so in which we have known eachother in only such terms that I thought we were friends. After a dazed moment I went after her and asked her, very politely, to leave which she did.
That was on Saturday last. Of course all peace was gone from our home, me having to explain to DH that I didn't do anything bad to offend his sister, he being slightly cross with both of us and no chance (or so it seemed) for reconciliation since SIL is known for her unvorgivingness towards those who happen to offend her (a butcher who just washes his hands before touching the meat instead of using plastic gloves, a waitress not being polite enough etc.), and DD still out of sorts because of all the over-indulgence she had received.
To spoil it for you: Last night we had a birthday party for DH and DD and she attended, hugging me and, in a manner, asking for pardon. I was polite and all that was expected but you can imagine that my heart didn't recover as fast, and I'm dead sure that I won't ask her for any help in the near future. Of course, it was my fault in the beginning. I shouldn't have asked her; it must be a torment for her in her overly neat ways to be in a 'den' like ours. (It's perhaps a bit like forcing my father, who severly hates the smell of BBQ - as a kid he witnessed an air raid on the Dortmund central station during the war - to attend a permanent one [like the mad hatter's tea party in 'Alice in Wonderland' perhaps].)
The worst I haven't told yet. I don't know if I ever mentioned, but we had two cats, Sparrow and Miss Sophy. On Tuesday I had to have Miss Sophy put down because she had been poisoned. I'll spare you the details, I'd break into tears again, but it was hopeless and I was afraid that I wouldn't even be able to take her to the vet to end her pain, but fortunately my neighbour took us (one sick cat in kennel, one lady on crutches, drenched in tears, one two-year old inquisitive, active girl, one 18-month old equally disposed boy and herself in a car she'd never driven). She may put her nose a bit too much into the Bible, but she's a good person and if I ever said or though anything against her I'm deeply sorry for it. She has helped me a lot since then. Anyway, poor Sophy was put to sleep and we haven't even been able to give her a decent grave in my parents' garden yet; she rests, shrouded in the pillowcase on which I took her home from the vet when she was a tiny little kitten about three years ago and sealed in a dustbin liner in a disused freezer which I re-activated for this purpose. I have no idea if she ate a poisoned rat or if some friendly neighbour did this.
OK, I'm all in tears again, and I'm pretty sure that this is >not< normal. I've made an appointment with my gynaekologist because I feel a little queasy 'down there' and am afraid that it's either climacterium advancing prematurely or something worse. If it isn't anything hormonal, I'm afraid I'll have to go and see the shrink again for some antidepressants. Well, first things first, I'll have to get through these blasted six weeks. Fortunately, I've found a way to work in my kitchen without putting too much strain on my foot. I got me a stool and a pillow (IKEA and DB be thanks) and use one crutch if I have to move with something in my hand. Long walks are not good but now the worst hassle is over, or at least I hope so. Everything takes so much longer that I don't know how to get on with my wedding preparations. I'd love to postpone it but I'm afraid that then two people who are very dear to me, my father and 'auntie', won't be there to celebrate with us. At least I got a good night's sleep tonight, the first one since I don't know when.
Well, that's it so far. Thanks for listening, and I'm sure one of these days I'll be able to post something that's not OT. Have a nice Sunday and I'll read you all as much as I can, even if I don't write much.