Coffee heat rising

The Garden Shaft…

Wouldncha know it? We haven’t had a hard frost in years. But now that I’ve stuck all those plants in the ground, temps are supposed to drop into the high twenties. Wunderground says 27° tonight, 32° tomorrow, 30° Sunday, 30° Monday, 34° Tuesday. Weather Channel says 27°, 23°, 23°, and 28°.

Naturally.

That means four dead bougainvillea, four dead lantana, two dead yellowbells (really dead, as in pull them out), one dead blue plumbago, and almost certainly all those little plants I put in the new flower beds: dead dead dead.

Also dead as in have to replace them: all the salvia, the surviving basil, a fair amount of the little ornamentals around the back porch. {sigh}

The yellowbells won’t make it through a hard frost at all. I moved the potted hibiscus out from under the deck roof on the side, where it never thrived, to the front courtyard, where it could get a little more light and water. It’s heavy and has to be hauled around on a dolly. So if it’s still alive now (last night I think the thermometer didn’t drop much below 40), I’ll have to wrestle that thing into the house.

The potted ficus tree  will have to be untied from its mooring (it’s roped to a patio roof upright so it won’t blow over in a stiff wind) and dragged further under the roof. Before I replaced the last of the old 1971 windows, I could protect the ficus by pushing it up against the back window, which leaked enough heat to keep it from freezing. No more of that!

The Perils of Pauline phenomenon persists. Finally got rid of most of the six-month-long back pain by sleeping on a heating pad for a couple of nights (don’t try that at home, folks!). Next? TMJ flared up yesterday! I can barely close my mouth and I’ve gone deaf in one ear. Is this shit ever gonna stop?

Interestingly, the muscle relaxant the Mayo doc prescribed, the one I refused to take for the back pain because it supposedly can cause hallucinations in old bats, is sometimes prescribed for TMJ pain. I suppose it’s just another form of muscle spasm…so…why not? I’m going to try it today and hope I don’t fall in the drink running away from little blue men.

Where’s Yore Sign? The joys of dealing with the public

Do you have a job that brings you into regular contact with the public? If you don’t, thank your lucky stars. 🙄

This morning on the way home from my Thursday morning meeting, I wanted to get a flu shot. Even though Young Dr. Kildare had suggested I give the flu shots a rest after last year’s nasty reaction to the double-dose version the Safeway pharmacist was foisting on us old bats, the current hysteria about spreading flu and “thousands” of deaths (yeah — heard that one on the news this morning) spooked me. The thing may have no effect for me, given my advanced old age, and it may be too late, since it takes two weeks for the vaccine to kick in. But what the heck: it’s free, and the normal dose has no untoward effects.

So I drop by the Scottsdale pharmacy right across the road from where the business group meets. They’re out of vaccine. Pharmacist says one of the two pharmacies on my direct route home has the stuff.

So I drive across the city, maneuver a cutthroat dog-leg turn across three lanes of rush-hour traffic to get into the Walgreen’s parking lot, trot up to the pharmacy counter, sign up for a shot, get handed a form to fill out and get told to take a seat.

After about 15 or 20 minutes of waiting, I’m about at the point where I’m ready to leave. Just as I’m thinking, “How much longer should I waste my time here?” a fight breaks out.

No joke.

A mid-30ish woman has been standing in line for most of the time I’ve been twiddling my thumbs. Only she hasn’t been standing in line.

two_footprints_black_145148You know how Walgreen’s has this sticker pasted on the floor with little feet on it and big letters reading WAIT HERE? It’s right next to the sign that says

“For your privacy,
please wait here
for
the next available pharmacist.”

Well, this woman has parked herself about ten feet back of the sign. She’s way back at the eyeglasses and cold nostrums display, a good ten or twelve feet away from the “Please Wait Here” station.

One other patron has noticed this and is standing behind her. They’ve both been cooling their heels for quite some time, as have I. One of the two service bays at the counter is open — no one is at the counter.

Along comes an old buzzard: looks to be about 90 or 92. He dodders up to the empty space at the counter, not noticing the silly woman who’s standing halfway to Timbuktu.

When she sees him wander up there and sees the pharmacist start to wait on him, she has a sh!t-fit. First she starts to yell at the old man. Then she starts to scream at the pharmacist! He himself is pushing 75.

So at this point, I give up — I leave the paperwork on the counter and walk out.

There’s another Walgreen’s about two stoplights up the road. The pharmacists in this store are exceptionally nice, and all the hired help evince signs of intelligent life. Nobody is standing in line.

Since I’m presumably in the system and may appear to have just had the shot, I describe to the pharmacist what just happened at the neighboring store and ask if I could please get a flu shot at her store. The pharmacist is flabbergasted.

I say, “Just think of it: we get to drive around on the same streets with that woman!”

She laughs. “Yeah,” she says. “Sometimes the folks who come in here leave me thinking, are you really allowed to drive, too?”

We agreed: some people need to have a sign on their car.

The Job-a-Day Schedule

My friend KJG shared an awesome time (and work!) management strategy the last time we visited at her home on the far, far west side of the Valley.

KJG’s lovely home is always enviably tidy, clean, and free of the recurrent chaos that characterizes my house. Not only does she manage a large and handsome house, she also cares for an acre of irrigated land’s landscaping and garden, and trains and cares for a large rescued doberman pinscher. 😉 To say nothing of an active and bodacious husband.

Both of us have reached the point in our lives when we regard extra clutter and extra work with a jaundiced eye. I remarked on how difficult and, more recently, how painful I find it to get through the work entailed in maintaining just 1,860 square feet on a quarter-acre of low-maintenance fake desert landscaping.

And she said she had learned to manage the workload by doing only one task a day.

Instead of having a cleaning day and a shopping day and a laundry day and an ironing day the way our mothers taught us, KJG does only one housecleaning task in any given day. On Monday, for example, one might clean the bathrooms; on Tuesday vacuum the floors; on Wednesday do the routine yard jobs.

Hm. I’ve been mulling that over ever since she described it.

My mother, like most of our mothers, had a regular cleaning day. And a regular laundry and ironing day. And a regular shopping day. And so forth. Most of the hours of each day were occupied by getting through all the tasks entailed in each of these projects.

But what if instead of doing projects you divided the projects into tasks and spread those tasks over an entire week or an entire month? Instead of cleaning the house from stem to stern every Monday, why not do one or two parts of that project each day? Wouldn’t this reduce a big, tiring project to a manageable daily chore, not so large as to actually cause physical pain?

This week I finally climbed out from under the paid work long enough to think this idea through, create a schedule, and get started on it.

Here’s what the routine would look like, casa mia:

job-a-day 1

Well. The back pain is unrelenting. But it’s a lot more unrelenting when I have to spend a whole lot of hours lifting, hauling, squatting, climbing under the furniture, scrubbing, scouring, dusting, vacuuming, mopping… The last time I spent a day cleaning house, I hurt so much I could have cried. Maybe even did cry.

Today is Tuesday. This evening after I mopped the floor — that would be all 1,860 square feet of tilework — I felt pretty good. Actually, since I just started this plan today and spent most of yesterday and the day before building the new rose beds, I did a little catch-up and vacuumed before mopping.

Tomorrow — Wednesday — will be the busiest day of the week. So the housework will be limited to light dusting and the ten-minute job of testing and balancing the pool water.

Wednesday Chamber of Commerce meetings usually convene in a north Scottsdale restaurant. A straight line home from those parts will take me past an upscale Costco outlet and the community college campus, where a once-a-week visit will suffice to say hello to colleagues, wave at the all-powerful Admin Assistant, and pick up the mail. Tomorrow I’ll meet a client directly after the CofC meeting before heading back into town via the campus. The surface-street route home from there takes me past a Home Depot.

Sunday after choir, “central area” errands will include trips to the city’s cheapest Costco gas station, located in the ghetto shopping center near M’hijito’s house (providing an opportunity to pester the kid as I breeze through his neighborhood); a trip to Safeway; and possibly a trip to the favored gourmet grocery store that sells my beloved coffee beans.

Note that this scheme a) rarely requires much work; b) leaves plenty of time to walk the dog and hike around the local mountain parks; c) could in theory limit the gasoline-burning automobile trips to three a week; and d) also leaves plenty of time to work on clients’ work. It builds in hours for business networking and still provides ample time to have a life.

Such are the prerogatives of (heh!) “retirement.”

 

Pre-Spring Gardening

Lily commander in chiefHere in Global Warming Central, boosterishly known as the Valley of the (We-Do-Mean) Sun, spring comes early. Very early. As in, ohhh, along about now. My poor little house has been massively neglected over the past several months, and that includes its several small gardens, tiny oases in the quarter-acre expanse of gravel and crushed granite that Phoenicians imagine is “desert landscaping.”

So, I’ve spent most of the day working.

A number of pre-spring chores need to be done at this time of year. Foremost among them is pruning roses, if you’re foolish enough to have them. As I mentioned a little earlier, I had Gerardo the Wonder Yard Dude make his underlings take out the moribund roses in front, which I simply haven’t been able to keep alive.

So I installed a bunch of fine bargain plants from Home Depot in front, took a couple of them back, planted about half the bulbs I’d bought there. We shall see how that turns out…however, it can’t be much worse than the perennially sick roses.

On the west side, the lovely climbing roses that in the past have made the Leafy Bower such a sweet place to sit for breakfast and lunch and…well, for blogging on one’s laptop…have been struggling. Last summer I thought they were dying and figured that come January, when the local nurseries trot out their treasury of rose plants, I’d have to pull them up and go buy some new ones.

But…

In the first place, I really didn’t want to kill those wonderful plants. I’m a sucker for plants and have a hard time bringing myself to commit planticide.

And in the second place, last summer it finally dawned on me that what ailed the sickly orange tree was pretty obvious: not enough water.

We’re in…what? the tenth year of drought here. This past twelve months have been ridiculous. We’ve barely seen a drop of rain. Once again, the summer monsoons never materialized, and the winter rainy season brought maybe one shower.  And you know, on its own, a drip irrigation system just isn’t enough to keep landscape planting alive through a 115-degree summer.

No.

Not even desert landscaping.

Which climbing roses decidedly are not.

When Richard the Landscaping Dude put in the “desert landscaping,” (I use the scare quotes advisedly), he provided two tiny little rock-lined wells for the climbing roses. These sufficed for a while, and they could be ignored in years when we had normal rainfall. But of late, the roses have needed a lot more water than I’ve been giving them. We haven’t had a “normal” rainfall in three years. Or more…I’ve lost count.

Setting the sprinkler on them and letting it run until the water bill was like to bankrupt me helped. They put out some new growth and showed signs of trying to fight their way back to health.

So I figured come wintertime, when the weather is cool enough for a human to slam around outside, I would treat the roses to the same strategy that worked so well on the orange tree (which has recovered and this winter has produced astonishingly wonderful fruit). To wit: hoe, shovel, and scrape back the crushed granite ground cover, pull up the fabric weed barrier, rebuild the irrigation well, add new compost and garden soil, and WATER the damn things. Deep and often.

It’s not a job I’ve been looking forward to.

But today was the day. It occupied all the morning and about half the afternoon. And just now I hurt allll over my bodddeeee.

The job was not as difficult as expected. But it still was a bitch of a job.

Started the morning by trimming the considerable deadwood out of the roses. There wasn’t as much as I figured (hence “not as difficult as…”), because many of the dead branches and twigs came from a single dead stem, and there were only a few of these. So what looked like a hideous amount of work was really just a matter of trimming back and trimming back until one came to a central dead branch, and then cutting that back to its base.

Quite a bit of the plants remained, thank goodness:

P1010953

(Click on the images for a better view.)

It left enough of both roses that, assuming they spring back, by next summer they should provide plenty of shade and, with any luck, lots of coral-red blooms.

The big job entailed scraping back the “desert landscaping” — about four inches of crushed granite — to expand each rose’s watering well, re-edging each one with large (heavy!) rocks, laying down rose fertilizer, filling the enlarged wells with compost and planting soil, digging the new dirt in with the rose fertilizer and the caliche, and finally finding places for the many bulbs left over from last week’s front-yard planting frenzy.

This, naturally, required yet another trip to Home Depot.

Returned $24 worth of plants and junk; spent $30 on systemic rose fertilizer/disease treatment/insecticide and plastic-wrapped dirt.

Yes, I do have some compost in the bin, but recently I added a thick layer of new stuff, which isn’t ready to go, and my back just simply hurts too goddamn much to dump all that stuff and filter out the finished compost. So I bought one bag of allegedly organic compost and two bags of garden soil.

Yeah.

I know.

Screw it. If I waited to do it right, it would never get done, because the likelihood that I’ll work up the energy to finish this job anytime in the near or distant future is nil.

Dry? Lemme tell you dry. The ground beneath those roses was so dry that when I’d set a shovel to it, the shovel would go cho-i-i-i-i-i-ng!!!! and bounce back in my face. That the roses are still alive at all is amazing.

Dragged a piece of flagstone around from the backyard to add to the single stone Satan had placed there when he built the ersatz wood deck. This made the larger irrigation wells look like someone had planned them (heh!) and provided little spaces for some kewl bulbs. An Asiatic lily dubbed “Commander in Chief” occupies one corner. The other: dahlias. A lot of dahlias now reside in these flowerbeds. And lilies of the valley.

P1010952

It’s not huge, but it’s big enough to give some space to dig in rose fertilizer a few times a year, and it’s low enough to hold a fair amount of water. Those blossoms pictured at the top of this post are “Commander in Chief” lilies. We’ll see if they grow here in lovely uptown Phoenix.

And, soon enough, we’ll see if this scheme rescues the belovèd climbing roses.

Image at the top: “Commander in Chief” lily, shamelessly ripped off the Internet.

 

Revisiting Old New Year’s Resolutions

Ever look back on really old New Year’s resolutions and reflect on whether you actually did them?

In an effort to find mention of a major purchase I made about six years ago, I called up the earliest posts of which WordPress still has a record — far from the site’s first post, but all the way back to 2007. What should I find but this post from the end of December in that year.

I called it a “to-do” list because the usual broad “resolutions” seemed too vague to lead to any meaningful action. What became of all those?

1. Three days a week, add bicycling or mountain park hiking to exercise routine

Har har! Not a chance!!

2. Lose five to ten pounds by

a) staying off the sauce,
b) increasing exercise as above, and
c) continuing to eat lots of whole foods and less sugar & refined grain

Now there’s a righteous concept.

a) nope
b) give me a break!
c) did that, but only because that was already my habit

3. Bring food to the office instead of ponying up $8 for the miserable restaurant fodder that passes as lunch

Well, actually… what happened there is I just quit eating on or near the campus. As things went from bad to worse with the annoying woman I’d stupidly hired as my secretary, I took to leaving earlier and earlier in the day and doing most of my work out of my home office. This meant I started eating lunch around 3 in the afternoon.

4. Drink tea, not coffee, and less of it

Whatever made me imagine I could shuck off my beloved daily coffee fix?

5. Learn to put widgets on iWeb pages

My goodness. I was still using iWeb in 2007? Well, no. You can’t put widgets in iWeb. Or couldn’t. The program doesn’t even exist anymore.

6. Join four social networking sites

Sure, I joined four social networking sites. Hardly ever use them. Facebook annoys more with every new revelation of its privacy-invading habits and Borg-like ambitions, and the public passion for Twitter continues to mystify me. You can take the horse to water...

7. Aim for two no-purchase days a week

These days it’s more like two do-purchase days a week. While I was still working? I expect two no-buy days was reasonable, but don’t recall.

8. Snowflake the Renovation Loan principal down by $1,000 (that’s $83.30 a month)

In 2009, when I realized the university was going to shutter our office and can all five of us — I had nine months’ notice — I started “noonlighting” by taking on face-to-face community college and online GDU courses. One semester I taught the equivalent of four online sections — the same workload I had when I taught full-time for the university — while holding down my full-time editorial job. It was a killer, but it allowed me to pay off the loan before I was laid off.

9. Invest $250 a month in an interest-bearing account to build liquid savings and to provide the option of paying off Renovation Loan within five years

Don’t recall whether I did this specifically, but something along these lines was going on. See below.

10. Invest net income from side job (approx. $3500 a semester) in the same interest-bearing account

Substantial amounts were going into a money-market account at the credit union. Before the Recession-That-Was-Not-a-Depression hit, that account returned a little interest (certainly better than an ordinary savings account). And by the time I was laid off, the loan was paid and some $28,000 had accrued. I’m still living on the remains of that stash.

11. Wear better clothes to the office, using the wardrobe now expanded by after-Christmas clothing purchases

Heeee! Hilarious!!

When I do have “office”-style clothing, I don’t wear it. I find that stuff uncomfortable, and I’m past the point in life where it’s worth making myself uncomfortable to please strangers and passers-by. I continued to wear my favorite Costco jeans to work, and the fancy clothes bought on sale gathered dust in the closet.

12. Try to wangle a Power Mac from the university

That didn’t work.

13. Build cross-campus collaboration by trying to land another research assistantship to be staffed by grad students in the publishing program

Did that.

14. Build new ways to mentor graduate students and reinforce editorial training

Mmhhh…well. We started having weekly editorial meetings, during which we discussed what had been done and what needed to be done. After awhile, though, La Morona’s presence became so annoying that none of us wanted to meet with her interfering, and so that idea petered out.

15. Make new friends

a) through Meetup.com
b) rejoin the choir

I did join Meetup.com. Joined a hiking group, and within a week fell down the stairs at M’hijito’s apartment building, sustaining a severe ankle strain. That put the eefus on my hiking schemes. Another Meetup.com group proved to be an agglomeration of fruitcakes and nerds even more hopeless than me. I lost interest.

And eventually, after an interlude with the Unitarians, I did rejoin the choir. That was good.

LOL! How hilarious.

Do you recall any New Year’s Resolutions of yore? Did any of them ever work out?

How to Fix a Broken Nail

This one is probably for wimmen only…although any of us, regardless of gender, can bash a toe hard enough to break a nail back below the quick. For women, the following repair project will work on hands or feet; for men, probably it’s only good for toenails, and that only if you never take your shoes off around the guys.

One day when I was a little kid, I was drying dishes (in those days there were no dishwashers :roll:) and I dropped a dinner plate edge on, right onto my big toe. Holy mackerel, did that hurt! It cut the nail bed about halfway across the toe. Amazingly, the toenail didn’t fall off, though my mother luridly predicted that it would. But to this day, a transverse scar under the nail leaves the nail itself prone to cracking horizontally. Usually this is a minor annoyance, but recently I caught the toenail on something, once again splitting it and lifting it bloodily off the toe.

Annoying to the tenth power.

The nail didn’t break completely off. I wanted to keep it in place until whatever was bleeding underneath healed and until the undamaged nail could grow out over the sensitive quick, about half of which was now exposed along the top of the toe.

Thought about sticking it together with Superglue, a common manicurist’s trick: glue a piece of tissue over the split; then layer on the paint. However, the injury hurt, and that didn’t incline me to add more pain by getting a toxic glue into it. What to do?

The fix was simple:

P1010873

Yup. Scotch tape.

The fracture lines lay at right angles to each other: the horizontal crack, plus a vertical break extending to the top of the nail. Almost 1/4 of the total nail surface was broken. Half of that was busted loose, and the other half was pulled up from the nail bed.

P1010875

P1010876Charming.

Soaking the foot in warm water removed most of the blood. Then I took a pair of curved manicure scissors (any type would work, though) and shaped a piece of satin-finish Scotch tape to fit the nail. The “satin” variant looks more convincingly like one’s nail than the shiny stuff, and I suspected it would tolerate a coat of nail polish better, too.

Cutting it to fit the entire nail, rather than just to form a patch over the break, is more likely to hold a large fractured area in place. And, as it develops, if you smooth the tape down carefully and tightly, you can paint over it and not have any unsightly seams showing.

P1010878

P1010881Before applying, hold the patch up to your nail to judge the correct size. Trim as needed to fit the size and shape of your nail. Then carefully lay the shaped piece of tape over your nail and smooth it down evenly from the tip to the cuticle, gently rubbing out any air bubbles. To some extent, you can lightly file along the top to smooth to fit — but use a very fine emery board don’t get carried away with this.

Now you  have a moderately sturdy patch. Because it covers the whole nail, it’s fairly unobtrusive.

The final step is to seal the thing in place. I decided not to apply color, partly because I wanted to keep an eye on the injury and partly because I figured removing this lash-up could be messy. (Surprisingly, it’s not!) For a significant split, use the toughest nail-protecting goop you have around. I happened to find this stuff in a drawer:

P1010882

Hard-as-Nails, available in any drugstore’s cosmetic section, is pretty good. You may have another favorite. I don’t know that it’s worth trying to secure it  further with products that claim to contain fibers, but if that’s what you have around the house, it probably won’t do any harm. Apply two coats, letting the first coat dry well before putting on the second layer.

Overall, the effect is not bad. P1010888I expect that if your feet had about forty years’ less wear and tear on them than mine do, the effect would be considerably better. 😉

This is not a long-term fix. It works to hold the nail together for about a week. Then the process needs to be repeated. But I think the repair will hold together, given an occasional remake, until the broken part grows out.

Here’s the amazing thing:

Getting this stuff off is incredibly easy if you use acetone polish remover — the same stuff you use to soak acrylics off. Acetone dissolves Scotch tape! Put enough on to wipe off two layers of goopy Hard-as-Nails, and it’ll take the tape right off with it!

Dang. Who’d’ve thunk it?

Gents: note that the clear stuff women paint on their nails is day-glo shiny. Even though the gunk is clear, it’ll be obvious that you have something fay on your paws. Some types of clear base coats are matte, but finding them would not be easy, at least not without the help of a manicurist who knows her products. Even then, I expect any type of clear coating would be pretty obvious. So if you just must fix a busted toenail like this, stay out of the locker room until you’ve recovered from your dire injury!

If the break is likely to snag on your clothes or in your work environment, it’s probably more manly to keep it covered with a Band-Aid until you can cut it back without aggravating pain or causing further harm. To prevent lifting, you could layer a piece of Scotch tape over the broken nail, as described above (sans the paint) and then disguise it with a Band-Aid.