A Gift to all the Manchester Bakers this Veteran's Day 2014

Armistice - And Irony

I can see them yet, as they marched away,
So debonair, so brave, so gay!
I can see them yet, as they turned to wave,
The smiles erased from their faces grave.
And as I stood there, turned to stone,
The sun's last glint from their rifles shone.

I can still see my Mother, with face so white
And my Father, standing so still,
Trying to think that all was right,
Trying to feel like it was God's will.
Yes, we all tried to be as brave as they,
As my husband and brother marched away.

After many a weary month and long
Came the news, more cheering than the happiest song.
The whistles were blowing, the bells were ringing.
Everywhere people were shouting and singing.
"The War is over at last" cried they,
And the sad old World became hysteric'ly gay.
We looked at each other through tears of joy
And Mother murmered softly, "My boy, my boy!".

Happy plans for their return we made.
I tremble even now, as these mem'ries fade.
"Killed in action", the telegram bore.
"Killed in action"; weary brain repeated o'er and o'er.
Yes, the bells were ringing,
They should have tolled!
The sound of bells will turn me faint and cold
Forevermore.
My brother had died the day before.

Josephine Abby Lamb Baker

My great-uncle "Harry" Lamb never came home. He was my grandfather's best friend.

My father, Stephen Hopkins Baker, who died last year, barely remembered that there was an uncle who disappeared during the Armistice.  Grammy never got over it.  I wonder if Grampa ever did, either.

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Little Pond

What the hell is the matter with me?

I can't even put this post in the MSCompanion.  And I don't have a stupidity blog, so the Pond will have to do.


My daughter offered to do some yard work for me and I graciously accepted.  Or is that gratefully?


Anyway, she clipped my shrub around the front porch, but called me to ask what to do about the mail box.


Mail box is a poorly installed classic green on a post with the little red flag.  It is actually situated left of the steps.  I don't have to leave the porch to retrieve letters and the letter carrier doesn't have to climb stairs to drop deliveries.


Mail box is in very poor shape.  I take that back.  The post is rotting out from the bottom.  Only God knows why.


This could not be fixed with duct tape.   Heartsick, I rummaged through our utility drawer and rediscovered.   Ta Da!  Zip ties.


Rather discretely, if I do say so myself, I shored up the whole pathetic mess with both large zipties for the post and tiny ones for those little (drain?) holes on the side of the box.  Presto!  problem solved.


My daughter wanted to know if she should trim around all those repairs.  Like the ass I am, I donned my Stupid Cap and grabbed the electric trimmers.  Moving in and around where I knew I had zipties, I clipped away the greenery.


Then I some how clipped away the inside of the left index finder.


I SWEAR I mentally visualized the teeth of the trimmers cutting through my flesh.  I felt nothing.


Soon we were awash in blood.  My kid grabbed a towel and we were on  our way to Urgent Care.


All it took was cauterizing two arteries and five stitches later, and we went home.  Sadder and wiser.


At least my kid is.  I think my brain shut down somewhere between breakfast and chores.


What happened to "with age comes wisdom?"  A character in one of my video games is always saying it.  I was beginning to think it was true.  See?  Video games are dangerous.

It's taken forever, but here it is.

TIME HEALS:  THE FIRST NEXUSES


is finally published.  Thank you Amazon.


The novelette is short enough for a weekend or beach read.


If it gets any sort of reaction, there is a sequel in the works.

Not hot, hot, hot!!!

I signed off my other blogs about this time last year. 


Big mistake.


One year later, and I am ready to drag myself out of depression and back up the ladder of evolution.


Since I declared that I had nothing to contribute to the Multiple Sclerosis Companion, I have lost both of my parents, have inherited more responsibility than ever for my MIL, gained weight, lost muscle and went off a tranquilizer.


Of all the above, I am happy to report that I think I have been successful in getting clean of Valium.  Of course, the flip side of that is that now I can no longer sleep through the night.  Which is why I went on it in the first place. 


It's amazing how many things I can get done between 2:00 and 6:00 in the morning.  I have pretty much finished my book and will begin again to look for publishers.  If anyone is interested in reading a time travel-romance, let me know. 


Did you know that most Americans no longer ready books?  How did that happen?


I went through my first list of publishers last year.  Did you also know that interracial romance is "hot, hot, hot!!!" right now?  I passed them all by before I realized that by the very nature of being about a person from the future, I simply eliminated the whole forbidden interracial thing.


I happen to believe that in the distant future there will be very little color distinction, and my book reflects that.  So much for "hot, hot, hot!!!"


Since romance for me includes an awful lot more interpersonal relationship than anything else, I wrote myself out of the hot, hot, hot!!! genre.  Just as well, because it's not what I am about.


So does that mean I will never publish Feathered Serpent?


Don't know.


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Little Pond


And check out the new skin for my health blog!  Thanks to my baby BlogSis, Digital Karen.

Back with a vengeance

So I decided to go off my sedative.


Last year was one of the worst of my life.  My mother was gravely ill and failing fast.  She told me that she never wanted to return home, where my father and brothers were expecting her to cook and clean.  She had just ripped her arm open while falling from the bed.


They said she blamed it on Dad, and I know why.  Both she and I sleep on the far side of the bed, away from the door.  Both she and I need to "go" frequently in the night.  The longer trip is due to the fact that both she and I go to bed early and the other come in later.  They get the bedside closest to the door, and we wind up having to circumnavigate the bed to get to the bathroom.


Once in the hospital, they wound up placing her in a nursing home.  Auburn Life Care Center.  Mom was very well cared for there, and she and their people obviously loved each other.  Whenever she would be sent out for an emergency, she would be relieved when they returned her to Auburn.


After several trips back and forth, Mom said, "I wish I could just go to sleep and not wake up."


In September, she got her wish.  Her condition proved terminal and she refused all life support.  We all dutifully filed in to pay our last visits, and just after the last grandchild left, she died peacefully in her sleep.


Now Dad was another story altogether.  Dad was never going to die.  He did everything to stay fit and active.  Well, fit and active is one thing when you are at the top of your game.  With Early Onset Altzheimer's, he was lucid enough to know he was losing it, but unable to stop its progression.


The man at Mom's funeral was not really my Dad.  I was told that whenever he returned to normal, he would remember that Mom was dead, and begin grieving all over again.  When I came back to Little Pond, I predicted that Dad might not make it to Thanksgiving, and surely would not be alive at Christmas.


I was right.  During Thanksgiving dinner, Dad began to talk about suicide.  The boys soldiered on and kept him busy with sports and TV, but didn't supervise his outdoor activity.  Dad had a heart attack and fell down injuring himself during a walk.  Into the hospital he went, where they predicted all sorts of dire outcome.


That Sunday, right after the Patriot's game, Dad died while discussing the game with nurses.  It was exactly three months from the date of Mom's death.


It was during this time that my neuro decided to cut the Valium.  Not less valium, not fewer pills, just one month refill at a time.  Getting them from the online pharmacy became a huge problem, because they are just not very reliable.  I often went days without the drug, and a day without Valium is a very, very restless night.  I attended both funerals and all the travel in between during this sorry situation.


It is now almost four months after Dad's death.  I am still adjusting to (withdrawing from) the lack of Valium.  At first I thought all the crazy dreams would stop and I would sleep peacefully, but this was not to be.


Why?


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Little Pond

Heads up. Head cold time!

I should have known.  My sinuses have been stuffed up for a few days, and I couldn't drain them into a tissue.  Sneezing like crazy over nothing.


The most important sign went right over my head.  Even in bed my left foot felt pinched.   Almost as if I wore a stocking that was too small.  At the toes, especially, I had that weird feeling of having stepped on something both sharp and wet.  Or maybe cold.


A fever.  The sure sign of a fever.  The MS symptoms are coming back.


Its quite a testimonial to Copaxone that I no longer catch on as quickly.  Instead, I was puzzled, but too busy to work it out.


Now I not only have a head cold, but I also can feel the MS creeping up my left leg and causing trouble with my left arm.  I can even feel the ring around my left eye.


I have been very careful to cover my head and neck when walking Sarah, my beagle.  Otherwise I would probably have neuralgia to boot.


This time I am trying Zicam, albeit a little late.  I'm scared of the MS relapsing.


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Little Pond

One step backwards

Weeeeeellll.  I don't have the stick-to-itiveness to keep submitting my manuscript.  It may be all the rejections or it may simply be the Seasonal Affective Disorder: either way, I've had enough for now.  I have begun handing out my best chapters for feedback.  These are the ones with either dialog or action.


I need some good feedback for a while.


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Little Pond

Still Dreaming...

Same as everyone else, I have joined the ranks of people hoping to lose the winter poundage gained over the holiday season.  It's not like I enjoyed myself, what with the death of both parents.  On the other hand comfort eating probably replaced riotous celebration and dining.


So I was not surprised when I had a wish fulfillment dream.


A MIDWINTER DIETER'S DREAM