"March"ing to a Different Drummer

Here it is the end of March, and the whole month stretches out in my memory as an unnamed symphony. What started out as an occasional deep deep cough prevailed till I could no longer eat or sleep or keep food in my gut.
Two different antibiotics produced little relief and on my third trip to the doctors' he sent me directly to Sutter hospital. There they poked and prodded and x-rayed and explained and poked and prodded some more. It seemed my electrolytes were engaged in internal war. Sodium in particular was dragging to the point I should have been having seizures. My lungs were full of fluid, my belly was rebelling and my thoughts delirious. Friends Sue and Jeanne closed up my house and brought me a suitcase of clothes. Six days later I was transferred to Park View Acute Rehab where I malingered another seven days.Many friends called or visited, but most of it is a blur to me.
Now I am home, still with gunk in my lungs, on still a different inhaler and cough meds. My doc says I should be feeling much better by Monday and if not he will send me to a pulmonary guy.
Meanwhile the orders are to eat, drink, and avoid talking. All three challenges to me.  I have no appetite, but I sure am eager to talk. Especially to thank my friends for their caring and devotion. I am not contagious, so I may venture out to Current Events today.
While I was in the hospital, Spring emerged with glowing color and extreme pollen counts. My landscaper came and finished (almost) the back yard landscape. I'm tickled pink, pink and lavender being the primary colors of the flowers in bloom.  Below are some new photos.

Water Surrounds!

Though the drought has not ended, a welcome series of storms has greatly blessed us. In my backyard sit about 40 buckets of plants which will go into the soggy ground on Monday. By then I expect the soil will be just right.
Last weekend I enjoyed two days of water color painting here on the grounds with teacher Birgit O'Conner. The subject was big, bold beautiful flowers. She uses generous amounts of water sloshed around on 300# paper. The class chose to trace and emulate her beautiful hibiscus photograph. She carefully demonstrated every step. Below are some examples of their finished products.

I thought they were all stunning. Being the contrary spirit I am, I chose to do my own from a photo  I'd taken of a yellow hibiscus in Hawaii. I think the result is not nearly as stunning but at least it is my own, and I prefer 120# paper. . 

The second day we chose to  do a photo Birgit had taken of calla lilies. Most of us did not finish, and I expect mine will go down the drain, but it was still fun. Here is patient Birgit teaching us. For her, there is much emphasis on which brush to use for each stroke. (Natural bristle, half and half, or our synthetic). Not something I usually pay attention to, but perhaps I am not too old to learn. 

Back Yard Progress

Yippee! This week has seen much progress on the remodeling of the back yard. Its amazing what four strong men and the right tools can accomplish

The main attraction is the laying down of bluestone granite and stepping stones on the  pathway so that this old lady does not slip and slide as she goes out to smell the flowers. Yesterday they rolled the bluestone with a power roller. What a difference. Smelling the flowers will have to wait for another year, though. With our continued drought we are expecting water rationing; not a good year for planting. I'll have to peruse other's gardens for that inspiration which comes easy in this county of thousands of gardens, vineyards and Luther Burbank enthusiasts.
To top it off, this weekend I'm taking a two day water color class from Birgit O'Conner on big, bold, beautiful flowers.Aren't I the lucky one.

What Brings Me Joy Today?

          In the newly landscaped front yard here little plants are popping up each day now that we've had a break in the drought.  I have to restrain myself from pulling them, for they look like weeds, but they are indeed new plants which will add color and texture to my formerly bland landscape. Yippee.
          On waking yesterday I rushed to the bathroom groaning. The urinary tract infection I had been flirting with for three days seemed to be winning in spite of my best efforts to drown it with cranberry juice. This syndrome for me seems to follow every hospitalization, including the latest for heart ablation. Thanks to cipro, I'm much improved today. All the same, I'm sick of putting energy into being sick. On my newly mounted bulletin board in the kitchen I just put a sign up to remind myself: "What brings me joy today?" Well, I know that writing my blog gives me joy, so I'll count that for today, (Saturday) and each day I'll try to add something to the list. If you haven't done so, maybe you would like to join me.
          My friend Jan Hagan, vacationing in Maui, sends a new photo almost every day of a whale's tail. She takes such delight in each sighting. I'm not sure I can sight any marathons of the sea in Oakmont, but I can certainly find small wonders of nature to behold.

Superbowl For Women

     Dream on, dream on. As much as I’d like to think, in this enlightened age, there would be a Superbowl for women, I know it ‘s a Bonnie fantasy. 

     As long as women are shortchanged in the money and power balance that means men dictate the agenda. I can’t imagine a change. There will never ever be a Superbowl for women .  According to sociologist Mariko Chang of Stanford’s Institute for Gender Research “the gender revolution has stalled, and the ways it has stalled are reflected in the wealth gap.” 

     In my octogenarian wisdom I scheduled a ninety minute massage Sunday while the Seattle testosterone-driven Nike clad men slaughtered the equally aggressive but less fortunate Denver eleven. 

     I got home and clicked on the tv. It wasn’t even yet half-time. Rather then wince and barf I turned the sound on mute. It was fascinating to see the men charge each other with such passion and brawn, posturing like peacocks when they succeeded in inflicting serious physical pain to the guy on the bottom of the pile. The only women present on the field. dressed to incite more sales of Viagra, wiggled their hips seductively. How does this translate to the world in which insults and guns and wars are the prescription for success?

In my hopeless fantasy women alone would inhabit the arena, Joan Baez would be crooning at half time and the winning commercials would be for peace and love with the additional component of education and health care for children everywhere. What would we do and wear? Well, each team member would dress in her own favorite outfit. Some would be in bathing suits or saris, some in levis and overhauls. Each would be doing her favorite dance, but all would join hands in harmony and respect. At half time scarlet ribbons and rose petals would descend from the sky. Michele Obama would be wearing gardening togs on top and workout pants on the bottom.  I’m unsure what Hillary would be wearing. Any suggestions? Personally I’d be wearing bra and panties but one could not tell because I’d be covered with body paint illustrating iris in full bloom which would start at my toes and explode with blossoms around my boobs. Catherine Dodd would be in blue and purple leotards trailing prayer flags of every color of the rainbow. Female justices of the Supreme Court would be in flowing judicial robes of rainbow colors and there would be nine of them. My niece Cheari would be pruning hostas around the goal posts. My friend Nancy would be talking with everyone (she loves to talk) and perhaps marketing her purses made from recycled men’s levis. MVP would be Mallea. Rachael Maddow would for one day get off the subject of the New Jersey political scandal to cover the celebration (both teams would win since all women would be celebrating one another) and the men in the grandstands would be sitting sedately except when cheering or saluting as they sipped their watermelon smoothies. 

      I invite you to comment and say what you would be wearing? 

Come on, now, fantasies won’t hurt you. 

Out of Synch

Did you ever feel like you weren't in synch with the rest of the world? Perhaps Obama did this week in his State of the Union speech, even though he seemed to be enjoying himself. Here it is the brink of February and the amaryllis I ordered for myself and as Christmas gifts are just coming into bloom, whereas many of the outdoor plants due to bloom in March are already past their prime.
Shopping at Safeway Tuesday night I said to the usually articulate clerk that I had to hurry home to hear the president speak. "Oh, is the president speaking?...How come?" After I swallowed and explained to him why this speech might be important I inquired "Do you usually keep up with the news?" "Oh, yes" he replied.
Said I, with a twinkle, "How do you get your news, on the tv? " "Oh, no, he responded, " I hardly look at tv."
Well, then, inquired I, "On the radio?" Again, a negative reply. "On the computer then?"
"I guess so," he answered, "I mostly read Facebook."
As amusing as this sounds, its also scary, isn't it.

For about three weeks I've been trying to get back to
painting and all of my attempts have landed in the trash.
Tomorrow maybe Ill try Sandy Delehanty's lesson on
painting white flowers. There must be some inspiration
still beating in me somewhere.

Attitude Adjustment Needed

Did you know that last Friday was national Thesaurus Day? I don't have one anymore but I should as I  have run out of synonyms for cranky, bitchy, pissy, ornery, grumbly, etc. When I spoke with Catherine last night her comment was "I'm proud of you Bonnie for being assertive!"  What a lovely reframe! She was referring to my treatment of the second and third nurse who came out to instruct me on the new machine that checks my vitals at 5 am every morning (I picked the time, that is not the problem). "Look" I wailed, after the second lesson, "I have two masters and a doctorate, and I don't need three lessons on how to operate the stupid machine". The nurse seemed non-plussed and simply scheduled the third lesson for the next day.
So every morning now I press a YES button on a new grey and white contraption on my dresser which beeps out "Good Morning. Bonnie" in a singsong, saccharine voice. Pause, followed by little recorded tips on how to run my life, none of which interest me in the slightest. Then it instructs me step by step to take my blood pressure and pulse and later on to weigh on the big black scale provided, and it transmits it all electronically to some listening device in the sky.  What's stupid about this is my blood pressure has always been in the low to low normal range and my pulse is now set mechanically at 90 so the only thing that can vary is my weight, and good God, I can read a scale myself! Why doesn't it ask me if I woke with any transformative dreams? Or if I remember my last orgasm? Or tell me they have invented something new for toenail fungus? Or suggest how to get along with my constipated next door neighbor who won't let me cut the hedge? Or ask me what I think of the new revolations each day in the New Jersey government scandal.  It could even alert me that it is a high pollen day and I should wear a mask outdoors, but no, it wants to remind me I have the mind of a pre-schooler and need coaching on how to push yes and no buttons.
Ah, and please refrain from telling me I should have gratitude.  I DO have gratitude, especially to my friends and loved ones and Rachael Maddow who nightly demonstrates to me to how to confront injustice with humor and good hope, although even she sometimes gets too long-winded.