Institute Head count.

A brief google search on my part reveals that daylight in the swamp basically means shake a leg, which could also mean get up and boogie.  I sent Old Dog an email and he confirms that while he is not about to get up and boogie, he could if something moved him too.  Me too, could get up and boogie, well not much of a hoofer, but I can walk till the cows come home and feel just fine.  Apparently cows when they are eating God's good grass tend to linger a bit.

Just keeping Beagles caught up with the health of his associates.  We don't want to be those oldsters that can go on and on about our conditions and the various meds we take, though when prompted I have to stifle the urge to yak on on the subject till the cows come home.  

Nice pics Beagles, keep them coming.

Daylight in the Swamp!

I have heard of at least two versions of the origin of this phrase.  One version is that this call was used to wake up the lumberjacks in the morning, meaning that, since it's daylight in the swamp, it's time to be up and working.  The other version is that it was the lumberjack's mission to let some daylight into the swamp.  Either way, I thought it would be an appropriate title for these "before" and "after" photos.

Testing Photo App

 

I bought one of those gadgets that Old Dog told us about, and now I'm trying to figure out how to use it.  Uncle Ken requested scenery shots, and I don't think I have many of those.  This one dates back to 2017 and was taken from the roof of our house.  It looks like early spring, so I was probably up there cleaning the wood furnace chimney.

Speaking of Uncle Ken, I hope he is recovering well from his last procedure.

Sounds Serious

Sorry to hear about all the medical trouble that Uncle Ken is having.  What else can I say?  The medical people I have been dealing with have been much more willing to share the results of all the tests and procedures that I have been going through the last few years.  If anything, I have frequently suspected that they were overstating my problems, but time has proven that they were mostly right after all.  

They tried to put me on oxygen years ago, but I just couldn't see myself dragging those tanks around. Turns out there is indeed a better way.  It's called an oxygen concentrator.  It's a portable machine that takes in atmospheric air and strips the nitrogen out of it, delivering a high concentration of oxygen to your nose through a rubber hose.  It's not as intrusive as it sounds.  It would be easy to forget that I'm wearing it except that my wife tells me when I've had enough.  She says it makes me talk like a machine gun, but I have been accused of that all my life, although, come to think of it, not lately.  Maybe this means I am getting back to my own self after all these years.  One can only hope.

I have bought one of those DVD/CD players that Old Dog told me about, but I haven't had the chance to try it out yet.  I could be doing it now, but then I wouldn't be writing this post.  Maybe tomorrow.

more adventures from State Street

 How are we all doing?  Meself, not so hot.  I had that second stent put in and came out of it like the first one, feeling like a million bucks.  But then about bedtime I got this pain in my chest, pretty strong, no way I was going to get any sleep that night.  And the advice that they had left me with in the morning was that in case I was feeling pain in my chest I was to CALL 911!!!

Pretty specific.  Lots of people at the towers are well up in age and meatwagons are not rare.  But, I dunno it just seemed too dramatic, and what if one of my neighbors saw me being wheeled into one of them?  Oh Lord.  I compromised, I called a cab.  When it didn't arrive I had second thoughts.  What if I just dropped dead on State Street?  How embarrassing.

Anyway it came, and the half mile ride was ok.  I imagine riding in a meatwagon would have been bumpier and that siren!?  Actually they can't hear the siren from inside, something they installed some years ago to keep the drivers from going deaf. And that is why they always have it set at blast.

And then after passing through the metal detector I was in the ER.  Northwestern's ER is like a block long and kind of like the tv shows, everybody is yelling and you have those on death's doorstop and those out of their heads.  Actually the staff is pretty calm (we do this every day) and efficient, I assume, I never knew what they were doing, and they just rolled their eyes when I dared to ask.

They shipped me into a room where I was tethered to machines and there was actually an alarm that went off if I tried to step out of the bed.  The first night my nurse was a pretty good guy, and the next night she was a nasty woman.  Every now and then they'd roll me out for some test or other, but again nobody told me nothing.

And then after two days I was freed.  Had a meeting with my doctor a few days later and had the temerity to ask what was going on.  He kinda shrugged.  I had heard a rumor a couple times that they were adjusting my meds so I asked him if that was what was going on and he answered, "Sure."

While he was fiddling he had noticed that an artery that he thought wasn't worth bothering with had kind of come to life and now he wants to do that one.  I guess, isn't the more blood the better?

So I have an appointment for one more in about a month and in the meantime I am going through this cardiac rehab thing which seems to be mostly piddly little exercises and very complicated dietary requirements.

And that's the way things are going for me right now.

Quick consumer tip

...but they are all on CDs and my current computer doesn't do CDs.  

Ah, the bane of the modern age; aren't you glad those images aren't on floppy disks?  I had the same dilemma and found a quick and relatively cheap solution: a portable USB DVD/CD drive, around twenty bucks from Amazon.  Amazing little device, considering I paid hundreds for a CD drive for one of my computers decades ago, and it just works.  Plug it in and you're in business.  The hardest thing to do is wallow through hundreds, even thousands of images; you'll learn to appreciate extra-large thumbnails.  I think the drive I have can also write to CDs and DVDs, so there is more fun to be had.

Just one mutt's opinion.

Time Marches On

I have some pictures of the Freehold, but they are all on CDs and my current computer doesn't do CDs.  When I ordered my new computer, I just assumed it could handle CDs, but it turns out it can't.  I suppose things like streaming and the Cloud have reduced the demand for CDs to the point that CD capacity is no longer included as a matter of course in new computers.  I could get it as an add-on, but I was getting to the point that I rarely used it in my old computer, so I haven't bothered.  I seem to remember that the same thing happened with floppy disks, cassette tapes, and VHS.  On the other hand, I hear tell that vinyl is making a comeback after I finally disposed of my old collection.  

I haven't hunted or cut firewood in several years now.  When we had that big ice storm last year, I found that I was no longer able to pull the starter cord on my chain saw, so I went out and bought one of those new-fangled electric models for $800 with battery and charger.  I have only used it a couple of times.  Just one more thing that I can no longer find the time or energy to do.  My neighbor and my daughter help me out when the trees start to encroach the driveway or the drainfield, but other than that, I have been allowing the forest to reclaim its own.  

The deer are still here, we see them out the window now and then, but the snowshoe rabbits never did recover from those ice storms we had back in the 90s.  Grouse have never been plentiful around here, but we do see them on occasion.  

We have decided that moving to a regular apartment in town would be more trouble than it would be worth.  What we need is assisted living.  My daughter knows of a place near her in Charlevoix that we might consider, and another one in Harbor Springs that she might check out for us.  All we really need to stay in Beaglesonia is more help, including reliable snow plowing service.  Time will tell what choices we will need to make, if we live long enough.

Meanwhile, God speed the recovery of both of my esteemed colleagues.