Laundromat Musings

Washing and drying clothes at a laundromat involves a whole set of skills, that many may not be aware they might need.  Take a couple loads of laundry to the local laundromat when you've never been to one and it will become apparent that it isn't as simple a process as it might look.  Not to be gender biased, but if you're a man standing around waiting for someone to feel sorry for you and tell you what to do, you might get some sympathizers, you might not.  A lot of the women that are going to the laundromat may have children or grandchildren with them , as well as having hauled on heavy loads of wet and dirty clothes and don't see this endeavor as an opportunity to assist the clueless male on how to do his laundry.

Hopefully, the male in question, had a parent who taught him the basics of laundry when he was growing up and he will not be as clueless as originally conjectured to be.  Note, I was once asked to sniff and smell a man's newly laundered pair of pants to see if it still had a burning smell left from the fire he had his house recently.  I asked myself internally, "Is he serious?" but I played along and did as he asked.  I couldn't smell any burning smell, and there might have been a slight odor of kerosene, but I'm not the best person to ask, because my sense of smell is practically nonexistent, except after a superb night's rest, which can happen very rarely.

This was going on as two young children were rolling the laundry carts back and forth and coasting on them as entertainment, while their harried grandmother finished drying some bedding she had washed.  One sincerely enjoys silence after an experience like this, believe me.

Using the same laundromat all the time, one gets acclimated to which washing machines and dryers are the better ones.  One learns the washer that sounds like it will launch into orbit when it is spin drying or the dryer that will leave one with a mass of wet clothes after an hour of drying on the highest setting.  On the opposite side of things, are the washers that don't spin dry at all and leave sodden clothes and the dryers that may melt  the polyester shirt back to its roots as a  product of crude oil.

Who would have known the adventures that await at the local laundromat?

Following Craft Blogs----I Love It!

I follow several craft blogs by email and on facebook.  Probably two years ago I discovered Craft Gossip which publishes every day and is a digest of many types of crafts and features projects made by artists, artisans, craftsmen, you name it, it has been featured.  At least you can name it within tasteful limits.  This blog is a good  way to learn your way around the craft blog world and what you like and what suits your particular likes and dislikes.

I don't claim to be an expert in this area.  I don't attempt to write a craft blog because I don't think I have the self-discipline that I observe is required to do so.  I enjoy seeing the posts and pinning on Pinterest or bookmarking in my browser the crafts and ideas that I think that I might make some day.

And that is the crux of the matter:  some day.  I think this is the true enjoyment I receive in seeing all the wonderful things that can be made with fiber and fabric and all the other materials that are used by these wonderful bloggers and artisans.  I live vicariously through these people's talents.  I know I do.

In a better world, I would have the self-discipline to make all these beautiful objects that I see daily in the posts of such blogs as,  Schwin&Schwin, Crafting a Green World, Positively Splendid, Sew Can She, Crazy Little Projects, Graphics Fairy, Awesomesauce & Asshattery, Cornflower Blue, Chemknits, and meijo's JOY, to name just a few.

It is all such a wild circus of creativity and beauty that comes to me via these blogs and I enjoy them so much.  If I never make every single project that I yearn to make, I have still shared in the making, I believe by viewing the creative spirit of these blogs and the people who create them.  It is a blessing to me.

Honoring Bill

I came to my blog this rainy, dark evening in the North, to tell my tale since I last wrote.  My companion, Bill, died on August 26, due to advanced liver illness.  It seems it always comes sooner than we think it will.  Last summer he spoke of another friend who probably wouldn't last until Christmas.  The friend is terminally ill and still with us.  I have the thought, but Bill you aren't with us.

With the support of many I have muddled through since he died..  People have been there and done things for me that I never would have guessed were something I needed.  They saw the need and filled it.  

Hospice and the staff were wonderful the last 2 and a half days he was able to be home before passing.  He made a massive effort to get home from the hospital before he died.  A Hospice nurse and Linda G. inched him slowly in the door of our house and he had to repeatedly sit down before getting to the hospital bed set up in our living room.   The day before when I'd visited him at the hospital he had walked up and down the hallway using his walker.  He has been talking and calling people on the phone and seeing visitors.  I was unbearably shocked when I came the next day to take him home.  He was so weak, barely walking to his hospital room door with the walker.

I have written else where about our last night together.  He was moving on and heavily medicated with the elixir given to the dying to ease the passage from life to death.  Linda G. who had some experience with the dying explained the process that they go through.  The Hospice nurse had told me she doubted he would last the weekend.  Karl came to see him.  He wanted to see his friend one last time.

I sang to Bill, held his hand, prayed the Lord's Prayer and Serenity Prayer.  I think his last conscious words to me were "I love you."  It's so hard to let go of  Bill, even now.

He died at 3 an that morning.  I was on the phone to a close friend and looked over and he died then.  She told me, "I think he didn't want you to be alone when he died."

I have a small Christmas shrine at my desk in honor of him.  There is a smiling picture of him looking out from  the table where he sat doing a jig saw puzzle.  I have a small cross stitching that I did that states, "Bless this house with love and laughter."  There is my small, wooden painted prayer box, and a small tree decorated with beads and at the back a candle in a glass with the Serenity Prayer on it.

I honor Bill this way.

A Quiet, Unspoken Wish

As many adults my age, I have seen the passing of my parents, 2 siblings, a brother-in-law, grandparents, and other relatives.  It is a loss one never "gets over," though one must realize that life goes on and one must keep living.  Writing in this blog is one way that helps me heal from the losses I've experienced.  I've had a wish that I could write some of the stories of those that have passed.  My fear is that somehow I won't get it quite right when I write about them.  But my hope is that I may capture their essence and somehow give my loved ones a life beyond what has been lost.

Please indulge me when I write about my loved ones.  And I would do the same for you, if by any chance, you needed a listening ear.

Neal was the heart of my immediate family.  A piece of advice he gave me when we were both adults was about the workplace.  His advice was that if a co-worker got promoted or received recognition, pat them on the back and buy them a drink.  No room for resentment and jealousy in this advice, was and still is my thought.  I'm not sure I could always live up to that admonition, but I know Neal would and did.

Not to say he was an angel or always did the right thing.  He could listen to an obscene Eddie Murphy monologue with the nieces and nephews at Christmas time, like any good uncle.  He was a cigarette smoker and enjoyed a good drink.

He graduated from high school in 1967 and entered the Navy soon after.  He did two tours of duty on aircraft carriers in the Tonkin Gulf during the Viet Nam Conflict.  He saw a man get blown away on their ship once due to an accident.  He visited Japan and developed a love for Japanese culture.  He was in an airport rest room once and standing next to him at another urinal was a man in drag.  Quite an experience for the small town country boy.  Another experience he told me about was getting back to the states and knowing "something was wrong" because of all the military clothes in the restroom trash...discarded due to the hostile reception military folks received back in the states.  I asked him once why he enlisted.  He told me, "I was patriotic."

Jobs were hard to come by after he left the Navy.  He had some tough years.  He attended college and received his B.A. in English through the G.I. Bill.  He still struggled to find employment.  He worked at the bowling alley for a while as a manager.  He then worked at the local newspaper and printing business, doing color separation when that was part of the printing process and printing presses were actually still in use.  I see it as an accomplishment that he headed and succeeded in making it a union shop for the printing workers.  A lot of the time he had some very thankless, under appreciated years, but he was well-loved by his family.  Always.

My father told a story once of Neal as a teenager accompanying him on a veterinarian call to doctor a horse.  Neal was in the stall trying to steady a highly excitable stallion.   The stallion backed Neal into the stall.  Dad said to him,  "Don't you open your peep or move, Neal," and somehow Dad quieted the horse and Neal got out of the stall.

Neal, don't you move.  I want you to stay right where you are in my memory.  Don't move.

How Are the Bees Doing?

As Bill, my companion, is a beekeeper, I occasionally receive a question about how the bees are doing or are they producing honey, etc.  Most have heard about the prevalence of Colony Collapse Disorder and the dying of whole bee colonies in the U.S.  It would be a terrible catastrophe, if bees died out.  I read one statistic that humans would die out in 5 years if bees ceased to exist.  The reason for this is that bees are the prime pollinators of plants, including fruits and vegetables. 

Bill has a few hives for his own use and as a hobby.  When his father, Paul, died in 1985, he made the statement, "the bee business will all go to Hell after I die,"  and it has in a sense.  Paul's words foreshadowed this current crisis in the beekeeping world.  According to Bill, his father made this statement as a general statement about the bee business.  In the 1980's, mites, that Bill states look like tiny red crabs, came in on a ship into Lake Ontario.  There are other types of mites that prey on bees, as well as diseases, like American Foul Brood and European Foul Brood.  American Foul Brood or "A" is the worst and generally, beekeepers burn the whole hive if it is found to have "A."  They must disinfect footwear, clothing, hive tools, and other implements if coming into contact with it.  It can spread from bee yard to bee yard if care is not taken, like any disease can spread.

Occasionally something will be released in the media, about possible causes of Colony Collapse Disorder.  One possible cause is the existence of pesticides in the environment which weaken bee colonies.  Bee colonies are highly complex and the answers to their collapse may not be simple ones.  Research is being done at many universities, such as the specialized Dyce Lab at Cornell which studies bees and honey production, looking for solutions to the problem.  There are several agricultural organizations that promote  honey and bees like the Empire State Honey Producers Association, Inc.   Bill and his father attended "bee meetings" throughout the country in the 1960's and 1970's.  At these meetings, innovations and knowledge is shared by beekeepers to assist each other.  In Northern NY, the Sustainable Living Project, a non-profit which has a green philosophy and initiative, has been helping local beekeepers in St. Lawrence County to learn and share knowledge.  A recent workshop by a master beekeeper, Mark B., of Brasher consisted of learning to ignite a smoker and keeping it smoking to calm the bees.  Some of the materials used in a smoker are discarded bailer twine, dried pine needles, and the dry red sumac cones.

The wise beekeeper keeps his or her smoker ignited, or suffer the consequences of angry bees.

And the Last Word?

I'm not sure I've ever understood the concept of "getting the last word."  Is it some primal act that has pursued humans through the millenia, this need to get the last word?  In one instance I've encountered  it with someone I worked with.  As we would leave at quitting time and exchanged pleasantries wishing each other a good evening, I found that my coworker would always speak after I spoke.  Somehow it irked me to experience this.  Inevitably I allowed the coworker to get the last word.  And you might ask, who was in control here?  I have never figured it out, but feel a certain anxiety and queasiness about this coworker still.

Now I experience the feeling again as I have entered the world of chat on the Internet.  I'm clumsy enough as it is when it comes to chat.  I don't know all the abbreviations and when I figured out what LMFAO means, I still cringe a little bit.  Not that I don't ever use the word in cursing when the cat knocks something down at 3 am and I step on my car keys by accident and set off the the panic button to my vehicle and it starts honking until Bill has located the keys so I can turn off the horn.  And that was the comment on Facebook when I reported this event as my morning status.  You're right----LMFAO.

On the topic again....I find myself experiencing the last wordedness phenomenon when I do chat on Facebook or on other social networks.  To be honest, the only other social network I've joined is The Experience Project.  So while I am chatting with you and you "LOL" or lower case "lol" along with me, I tend to get very wordy and descriptive and want to really carry on a conversation with you in depth.  Will you really mind if I do that?  And when it comes time for one us to sign off or maybe you or I go offline or have to answer the telephone, get Bill his strawberries, or the cat keeps jumping on my laptop, I feel awkward.

I would love to be there and give you a hug or see if you are truly "feeling fine" like you told me or if you are stressed and needed some human contact.  Or if you have friended me on the social network without having a clue who I am and are taking bets with your cronies on some plan to totally embarrass me and have a good LMFAO at my expense....do you still want to have the last word?  The good person that I want to be will let you have it.

Dance of the Caregiver

Caregiving is something that one hears about quite often in the course of the day to day.  Someone may have the care of an older relative, a parent, a child with a severe disability, and the possibilities are many and varied.  I am finding in the care of my companion as he slowly recovers from 3 stays in the hospital in the last 2 months, that there is kind of a delicate dance of meeting his needs and taking care of my own needs.

I think there has been many things written about care giving.  The one that comes to mind is "Caregiver Therapy" one of the Abbey Press Elf Help booklets that address human concerns in a way that gives a light touch to serious topics.  These books are all illustrated by R.W. Alley.  The caregiver book is written by Julie Kuebelbeck and Victoria O'Connor.  I need to buy a copy to help me cope with some of the stress I've been experiencing.  I am finding it is taking a lot of my inner strength and resources to manage the household and give Bill the care he needs.  Some things I'm letting slide.  They will be finished in some eventuality, I tell myself.

He is gradually growing stronger and able to do more for himself.  I get cranky, though, when I get tired and my energy is waning.  We are having healthier meals and using more fresh vegetables. I'm planning meals more carefully.  But I have to tell you I have a lot of dirty dishes that I'm having difficulty getting washed.  Writing it here and being open about my struggles will help me, I know.    The trips to the laundromat are tiring, also.  A little voice in the back of my mind tells me I SHOULD have been better prepared for this happening----the time involved in hospital visits and driving to Syracuse for 2 hours and home again.

He is being a prince when I get cranky and tells me he loves me.  I tell myself I've been ill many years past and had help while I was recovering.  This time with Bill's illness there have been many who have helped us and stepped up with support and kindness.  Our neighbor built a step to the bedroom so that it was easier to step up into where there had been only one high 10 inch step.   Someone loaned us a walker when Bill was very weak and needed the extra help.  He was very concerned about a credit card payment, and a friend went to the store and paid it for him.  Several have visited him in the hospital, even in Syracuse.  There have been gifts of many kinds given to us during this difficult time. 

So one dances a dance at times of illness, giving and taking and accepting and asking.  There is the interweaving of help and helplessness.  There is the music of friend's and family's concern and caring voices that accompanies me in the care giving journey I'm on these last few months.  I'm thankful for all I've received and learned in this dance.   My steps are clumsy once in awhile, but I stumble on and pick myself again for the next round.