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Archive for September, 2011

It seems the transition from late summer into fall has everyone and everything in either a state of panic or a mad frenzy.

Wall street hawkers screaming out buy and sell orders in a frenzy, hoping to leverage some undervalued company’s holdings in order to make a killing. All the while CEOs and financial managers shuffle through end of year P & L reports, and account  receivable spreadsheets. Trying to glean the last morsels  of profit for their shareholders; in hopes it will improve their personal end of year bonuses.

Less than a month into the football season, wild eyed fans are already  extrapolating a 3-0 record into an undefeated season with its culmination, the winning of the Superbowl. On Sport Fan radio stations across the country,  panicked citizens are lighting up switch boards calling for the coaches head; certain that their 0-3 start guaranties them a 2-14 season if something isn’t done quick.

The trees are beginning to look worn and tired with bits of the late summers bloom, now bearing fruit, as squirrels jump from limb to limb. Cheek pouches full, it’s an all out panic to put on that last ounce of fat, the difference between life and death as winter marches closer. Under the tree, heads pointing to the sky, my dogs bark incessantly waiting for the perfect mistake by the bushy tailed rodent. Then with a leap and a chatter of squawks, the hoarse frantic yelps of the two assailants scramble as they chase through the under brush to the next tree. The barking continues only this time at an elevated pitch.

Packing on the ounces.

The neighbors have been taken over as well. Gardens fading, they eye the remains of the late summer tomatoes, not quite ready for harvest, as the first frost draws closer and closer. Thirty inch long clubs of zuchini litter our backyard, grossing out at 68 pounds. The time for harvesting well past due.

So when I showed up at the house mid morning to get some paper work, I heard it in her voice too.

“Honey is that you?”

“Yeah, I had to get something for work.”

“Are you going to stay home?’

It sounded unsure, like this might not fit into her plans.

“No, I need to get going.”

On the counter, her Vitamix had some kind of green swirled paste matted to the sides, I didn’t really want to know.

“So Honey, what do you think of a Zucchini Lime Sorbet?”

Yup, that definitely had the sound of panic in it.

Talk to you later.

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It’s been a challenging summer. Marked by clumsy acts, accentuated with life threatening set backs; it reads more like a soap opera than, “What I did over my summer vacation. ”

My wife keeps me on target with medications to correct or prevent one thing or another, checking to see if I’ve remembered to take them, and administering them when I forget.

Taking care.

She is our resident herbal apothecary, prescribing healing salves and herbal caplets with all natural ingredients, to do battle against the everyday ailments that plague most households. At one time her kitchen cabinets were stocked with glass jars labeled Valerian, Skullcap, Comfrey  and Golden-seal Root, a witches brew station right in our kitchen. I think the nature of homeopathic treatment is seated in the belief it will work, with enough common sense to know when to relent to the pharmacist at Walgreen’s. That’s were we find ourselves these days, Warfarin, Lisinopril, Levothyroxin; it’s hard to find these in herbal form at the Vitamin Cottage.

This past week I’ve been fighting the onset of a cold; a sniffle here and brain jarring sneeze there, it seems to have taken up residence in my chest. This morning at that time when the predawn light allows you to see the outline of objects in the room, but not enough to register the time on the clock; the dog wanted out and was whining at our bedroom door it must have been around 5:45 a.m. My wife is a lighter sleeper than I, and once she’s awake she usually struggles to get back to sleep. During the week I start my day at 4:30 a.m. and have the dog out by 5:00 such that, on the weekends the dog can get a bit demanding by 6:00.

I felt the familiar movements as she climbed out of bed, heard the bathroom door open, a faint rustling as she put on her robe to let the dog outside; the last of two remaining articles left behind by our children. As my wife left the bathroom I mentioned to her that we should check for the contraindication of an expectorant, that I might want to get some to help fight this cold. Things become more complicated when you have an assortment of pharmaceuticals sitting on your counter, and residing in your system. So I was thinking Monday or Tuesday would be soon enough, as that was when I was due for my next INR test at the doctors office.

Fifteen minutes seemed like a long time for the 30 pound mutt to do her business, and I had drifted back to sleep. I was a bit startled when my wife returned, continuing the conversation that had started when she climbed out of bed. Commenting on, how the best time to call the Walgreens pharmacist was at 6:00 in the morning. She was perky, happy, bordering on manic, “I called the Walgreen’s Pharmacist and he said you can take these”. I opened a sleepy eye, my Nightingale in a white terry cloth robe was standing at my side of the bed; in the palm of her out stretched hand, two oval shaped tabs, blue on one side, white on the other; in her right, a 20 ounce glass of water, with the expectation that I would be drinking the whole thing.

Thanks Walgreen’s, for your twenty four hour service! Now I’ve got to pee; who drinks 20 ounces of water before they get out of bed! I sure am glad my wife and I weren’t discussing vasectomies! With their 24 hour hotline, a filleting knife, and two aspirin; no wait make that Tylenol, there are contraindications for aspirin and Warfrarin. Who knows what could have happened!

Talk to you later.

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