It's Saturday and the weather is cool and the colors are still vibrant. Paul tore down the old horse shed behind the garage and I saved the great old door with its rusty hinges. I've found a couple of possible places behind the house for it to "open upon." But right now he's gone to look at a 1984 Mustang in Waterloo, Alabama.
I'm making soup. Oridinarily, I will ask Paul if he wants soup or chili and he says hamburger, so today I'm making myself soup. I used vegetable broth for the first time, as well as crushed tomatoes, chopped onion, carrots and potatoes along with the frozen vegetable soup package from the store.
Two nights ago I started taking the cardizem that Dr. Johnson told me to take a month ago, before all the illnesses, hospitals, stress and uncertainty. I relied on the flecainide which I was so hoping to get off. So I had a bad afib spell Wednesday night, out of the blue. Slept propped in bed. Not well. So Wednesday I decided to go have a talk with our local PCP. "Why are you not taking the cardizem." "Afraid to, don't know what it will do..." "It's what I'd give you a bolus of if you came to the ER (he works in ER on Mondays)." So I put on my BGPs and took it Thursday and Friday night, along with one flecainide. This morning I left off that flec, too. At a rate of 48-52 BPM I didn't think I needed any more slowing down. It's tiring, to be sure. But once it's in my system, I'll try it without the flec altogether. Balance. Trial and error.
So anyway, back to the soup, the beautiful weather and the door. I just went to check on the soup and it was nearly mush. I tend to burn things. I always forget that right front eye is the hottest one on the stove. So now, a little more water, it looks like soup again, that goodness it didn't scorch. I did turn the eye off.
Yesterday evening about 4:00 Paul said he wanted to go eat at Chili's. I was watching the taped Parenthood... OK. So we went and it was good. Stopped at Kmart on the way back through Muscle Shoals and he found an outside work jacket with a hood, which he doesn't especially like. The store is huge, and hardly anyone was there, customers. Checkers up front, not many... It might be a scary place to work, but it may have just been the time of night. Finished watching Parenthood. Love that show: Sher and I watch it together most of the time. Don't think I've missed a single episode the whole time it's been on. Maybe buy myself a present of the series on DVD...
Paul quit smoking October 10 - the doctor told him to or suffer the consequences of the blocked artery in his leg. He knew he would have the "hot" feelings he did years ago, and he was afraid of gaining weight. Both of which have happened. The alternative to the hot flashes is the greater of the two horrible things; he could stand to gain some weight. He looks better, healthier, his face is fuller and pinker. Other people have commented how good he looks. Praying for his continued determination. Otherwise... Losing a foot or leg literally never stops hurting... Nor of the possibility of a stroke. He's really gained some strength back to take down this little shed. He worked awhile, rested, worked. I kind of hated to see the barn go, but it wasn't good for anything - it leaked and had a dirt floor. Built around 1979, when Daddy Nick had his horse out here.
Oscar enjoying the freedom of no leash. I don't exactly trust him - yesterday he chased a yellow cat down into the woods - I'm pretty sure it wasn't Barney, because they get along and O would have known him. Then Barney was at the house too quick for it to have been him. He's good about coming to the house: I never have him out of sight, and he loves the word and promise of "Treat!"
Paul looked at the Mustang, didn't want it. Aunt Ginny came over and brought the sheet the top hem was coming out of and I sewed that back in. She left it, not in a hurry, but I got it done while it was fresh on my mind.
Reading The Reivers by William Faulkner. Listening to a tape I ordered, second seller from Amazon, I had listened to several times commuting to work and back home. Bailey White's Sleeping at the Starlight Motel. I have a different perspective on some of the stories now, twenty years later...