Gemini at Work

What to write about when stuck in the middle of a science fiction movie that lasts longer than 2 hours? That will last longer than 2 years? My ass is starting to hurt from sitting so much.

Staying inside at first was no big deal. The only outings were usually shopping and medical appointments. And that we could still do though with cautions. Wiping everything down before bringing it into the house, remember those days? Well, I just put everything in our second fridge and didn’t look at it for a few days, that seemed good enough for us.

Moving from curbside pickup to actually going to the store was a big deal. Still is. Whatever happens, I know I can’t survive this virus. And I don’t want to go gasping for breath.

Most days start slowly and late. And most days I face with what some people call soft pants. No one is going to turn me in for picking up the mail across the street in those soft pants. And that is as far as I venture most days.

Stephen takes our dog, Arnold, for walks. He gets out into the world. That’s a little ways off for me just recovering from a broken femur surgery. But the day will come when I can dance again without any consequences. That was the story when we watched Bo Burnham Inside on Netflix. I was so excited that we played the soundtrack right after and I foolishly danced along. Foolishly only because my foot was not ready. It lead to a hospital visit and and x-ray. Again 2 days off the foot and I got a redo with more success and less dancing.

Many of my days are spent cooking, planning, and executing. Our neighbors have 5 chickens I love. I try to talk and visit with them every day when my foot allows/allowed. They talk back to me and come running when I get close. So what do the chickens have to do with cooking. Yes, they produce wonderful eggs. And the generous neighbors keep on giving them to us. That leads to baking and sharing the resulting baked goods. And then more eggs, and more baking….

It’s a Facebook log-off campaign, so I ended up here to share my thoughts. Will such a campaign bring about change to Facebook? I’m doubtful, but why not add to the numbers and encourage the organizers.

I’m at it again. Trying for order in my life. What will it take though? What is different this time? Absolutely nothing, so no big expectations.

Since the beginning of the year it’s been one disaster in my life after another. We moved to San Jose to help out with Stephen’s dad until I had a heart attack. Following this I broke my femur and had to stay off my feet for weeks/months.

My craft rooms suffered. Whatever was in the way of a wheelchair ended up in these rooms. Just recently I’m able to move around enough to attempt to bring back order. Every day I tackle a little bit so I don’t burn out.

This has been going on for only two days but the feeling of accomplishment is huge. And it’s a start. How many socks did I actually start and not finish? I tend to almost finish them until it comes to the toes and the kitchener stitch. Since that takes a needle I don’t always have handy, I stop there and then do a few socks at a time.

There is a lovely pair of yellow socks. They must be for me, yellow being one of my favorite colors. Perhaps I will use knitting to get some rest in, as I still can’t overdo it with the hip surgery leg. And just sitting around is not my favorite state of being, I don’t do that very well.

My headaches have been less frequent since the heart attack it seems, but yesterday the neck reared its ugly pain. ‘Headaches’ is the wrong term, it’s a neck pain. Most likely osteoarthritis. My neck has been carrying my head for 67 years now, that’s a long time. At times I wonder if a brace during the days of pain would be helpful.

In any organizing attempt there is stuff that needs to be thrown away, in my case preferably finding a new home as throwing things away is not in my vocabulary. Right now there are fabric scraps from the early mask making days in the pandemic. Some I can use, others are too small for the sewing I do. The first batch of scraps went to someone that works with tiny pieces, but I’m at a loss how I will find the person again. I will have to go through my Facebook messenger but as I said above, I’m part of the Facebook log-off right now, so this will have to wait.

Recently I bought a potholder on Etsy, because it was calling out to me. That doesn’t happen often, and I sure don’t need a potholder. Here it is:

This potholder is inspirational. There are so many scraps in the house and potholders are small projects. Finally a purpose for them. Immediately my thoughts go to all the jeans I saved to make some unnamed craft. I tried to give those jeans away a while ago but no one was interested, so I kept them. Or in some sane or not so sane moment threw them into the garbage. Now I wanted to make potholders with them and the leftover corduroy in the craft room. Found the corduroy, but not the jeans yet. A friend promised a few jeans if I can’t find mine.

Arnold has been a great dog. While off my feet for weeks, he gave up the couch to me. That immediately changed when I was able to walk again. He took back over. Even when I needed to elevate the foot that would swell here and there, he felt entitled. That’s how it came to the photo below.

Baking has taken over my life on some days. I finally experimented with macarons, they are too good so I can’t make them again for a while. Sharing with neighbors, we still had too many for us and the scale stares back at us in the mornings and we’re not thrilled.

A better option was making sourdough bread. Usually I make no-knead yeast bread and it turns out great, but lately it has been no-knead sourdough and it’s even better.

Another activity one can do off one’s feet is puzzles. I went a little overboard and at times I did one a day. Here is a 1,000 piece one that took days. A favorite.

There’s been a bit of a puzzle-mania at our house. 6 weeks off my feet and then 4 weeks recovery leaves lots of time for getting caught up with reading, getting tired of streaming movies, and doing nothing. Since I was able to sit, puzzles became the big thing. First my friend Ginna dropped off a bunch of puzzles and then our friend Dawn did the same. And if that wasn’t enough, our friend Mike was the latest to leave a stack of puzzles in front of the house.

And ok, I’ll admit it, I bought myself one, too. As it turns out, I bought myself two puzzles. How can that happen? One was meant as a present but that friend said she’s set with enough puzzles before I even presented the puzzle. Immediately it was mine. But, I already wrapped it and I hate destroying my stellar job.

My favorite puzzle ever by far is one of birds. Though it was 1,000 pieces it felt like several mini-puzzles instead. I like working on areas and this one was perfect for my approach.

Mostly I do 1,000 piece puzzles but at times I will indulge in a 500 piece one. Stephen calls them palate cleansers. It seems an apt description. They give my head a break, probably should be called head cleanser, and give me new energy to go to bigger ones.

I now have a connection to the artist of this puzzle. A friend of ours who moved to New Mexico bought their house from this artist. In other news, I’m enjoying my 75% weight on my leg. Doing my new exercises. I want to be compliant with my rehab. The doctor did a good job and deserves my cooperation.

My heart. Doing very little and putting very little stress on my heart did it some good, I hope. At least it felt good in all that time. Instead of giving my heart a workout to get stronger, I need to give it a rest so it can live longer. A new theory of mine.

I have been so lucky with our neighbors and it has been a good relationship during my recovery. They love my food and especially chocolates I make and I love their flowers and eggs from their chickens. A very good trade. Though we’re now vegan, I still like playing around with baking, but would hate to buy eggs from a store. Now I have new flowers on the tables every week. It cheers me up. I sure come a long way from hating to cut flowers, essentially killing them in my opinion, to appreciating them.

I want to plant some flowers come spring, especially zinnias. How does one grow them? From seeds? And when do I start them? There is always the internet for these kinds of questions. I do know now how to save the 2 geranium plants I have for over-wintering. Soon, perhaps when I get to 100% weight on my foot again it will be the perfect first job outside.

Have you heard of FODMAP? I assumed it was a way of eating. But no, it’s a compound found in foods that can cause intestinal distress. Wheat has FODMAPs. But, if the dough rests for 4 or more hours, the FODMAPs disappear. Most commercial bread nowadays rests perhaps for 10 minutes. Is that why so many people are gluten/bread sensitive? Find a baker who rests their doughs or bake it yourself. Of course you can also go with wheat free bread.

Arnold got into the habit of pushing his face into mine while I am asleep. I guess in order to wake me up. But why? He wants my spot on the couch or bed. But he does keep me warmer at nights now that it’s getting cold. Perhaps I should shove my face into his.

This should go down in history as a good day. The day started a little rudely with Arnold jumping on the bed and pawing me. He wanted to go for his morning walk for which Stephen is the designated walker. I don’t do mornings very well. But I did sing him his morning song.

That’s the first song I learned in English class. It goes like this: Good morning, good morning, good morning to you. Good morning Mister Arnold and how do you do? Of course we sang Mrs. Miller as she was the English teacher. Her name was Steinmüller but she translated and abbreviated it.

Then I indulge myself in my German cooking competition watching German TV online. What a treat! Like the Great British Baking Show it is very civilized and everyone is nice to each other. No shouting.

You’re always able to download any recipe that was cooked that day and I did just that. Cooking it now. I changed a few things and will take a photo to show you. It will be at the end together with the recipe. There were some changes to this blogging program and I don’t have total control yet.

I’m also cooking a sweet potato that is one of 4 ingredients for a chocolate pudding. Let’s see if it’s worth a try. The ingredients are a nut milk, sweet potatoes, chocolate powder, and dates.

The other good news is my leg. Starting today I get to put 75% weight on it. As exercise I get to use our living room bike, stand and sit with the help of both legs and hands free, spin myself some yarn. I love my physical therapist. We come up with the same ideas. He suggested I use a bar stool when cooking. I was already doing that.

Breaking a femur is bad news. No walking or weight on the leg for 6 weeks and then 25% weight on the leg after that and after another week another 25%, up to 50% now, and so on. Total recuperation is over 10 weeks.

With the help of friends I had all the tools necessary to survive. From wheelchair in the beginning to a walker nowadays, a fancy shower seat, a high rise toilet, you name it, I had it. And let’s not forget the steady supply of puzzles.

And the success story of the vegan pudding recipe. It would need raspberries on top to make it perfect.

4 ingredients: coconut milk, but almond milk or oat milk, any milk really, would do, 6 pitted dates, 1/2 cup of cocoa powder, and 2 cups of cooked sweet potatoes. Put in the blender and you get this:

When I met Stephen in 1980 I lived at 1480 Waller Street in San Francisco. Later that year we moved in together. We were a match made in heaven.

At the time, we read to each other. The book that left a big impression on us was Helter Skelter. Apparently Manson had lived in our building or a few houses down from ours, but this was the Haight Ashbury and it seems every house had its myth.

But back to Helter Skelter. In our impressionable 20s it was quite a story, and living on the first floor, though with bars across the windows, and bars across Manson himself, we nevertheless freaked out when we heard a noise.

For whatever reason, imagination rampant, we were convinced someone was trying to get into the apartment from the hallway window or perhaps the kitchen door that led to a garbage area via some stairs. The door had a big wooden bolt across it, a la castles in the 1800s. And perhaps we forgot to bolt it? Or was the little hallway window left open? Damn if either of us volunteered to check it out, mere babes we were.

Instead we devised a plan where we took turns staying awake and protecting each other. I wonder what we thought we would be able to do should an intruder surprise us. We never found out because we fell asleep on the job.

When we checked out the situation in the morning, it turns out that the hallway window had bars and the big wooden bar across the door was secure. The noises we had heard through the night were raccoons in the garbage.

Forward almost 42 years later. Stephen posts a song from the Ace of Cups on his Facebook page. A friend comments with a video of the band. As Stephen is watching the video, he gets all excited and shouts 1480 Waller, they lived at 1480 Waller!

He does a little research and finds the dark sides of 1480 Waller, too. And very dark they are. When reading this article one can see the sociological changes for women from then. Though times seem to be going backward right now, the horrors of this story in the courts make me sick. Read and weep.

The victim is called promiscuous, taking drugs, having tattoos and a hippie lifestyle. The gang rape was called an orgy in the SF Chronicle headlines. Our block of Waller was called “Terror Terrace.” The detectives working on the case were the same ones that worked the Zodiac killings.

We had no idea how many ghosts were in our building, on our block. We might not have fallen asleep that night.

It has been a while and it seems the whole world has changed. Certainly my life has.

At the beginning of this pandemic I saw a chance that we’re all coming together. Being in the same boat/world provided an opportunity to put our differences aside and root for each other. What other option was there?

I look around now and wonder why I had such faith in people. Shouldn’t I have known better? Didn’t 4 years of Trump prepare me for the divide and hate and idiocy? Apparently not.

There is a certain kind of idea of freedom that only exits in this country I live in right now. An underdeveloped idea of freedom, a freedom as a toddler might express. And it goes hand in hand with the belief that this is the freedom other countries can only dream of.

They have no idea that many countries have moved beyond and come together as a community where everyone is valued and that freedom comes with the responsibility to others. OK, only sometimes. I see that in Germany we have the same idiots spouting the same bs as here. It’s discouraging.

In the meantime it’s a grueling and tiring experience to slog through a pandemic that some don’t even believe in.

Although first worried about covid, my personal experience shifted pretty fast. At the end of 2020 we moved in with my father-in-law. After several visits to the E.R. he needed more care and after interviewing several caregivers we decided we would be a better choice.

Though that was true, we didn’t realize how limited Stephen’s work time would become. Or that we basically lived in one room only, the bedroom. Or the kitchen for cooking.

The living room was taken over by the television tuned to the news or sports. Neither of which we had an appetite for, especially 24/7.

There were good times, too. We always ate dinner together with lots of talking and remembering and discussing. And afterwards we would watch Shtisel, a show we all enjoyed. It was fun creating this routine.

Several months later I had a heart attack and landed in the E.R. I had a stent placed, diagnosed with congestive heart failure and eventually with an ejection fraction of 24%. Not good. At the time I was also struggling with bad knees and had hoped for knee replacements. So recovery didn’t include a lot of exercise. Knee replacement was now out and the only way to walk was with a brace a friend had given me. The shortness of breath I now experienced did not help either.

A few days after my release from the hospital, I think it was only 2 days later, I was back at the E.R. with a partial bowel blockage. Talk about pain! And the indignity of having a tube placed through your nose and into your stomach.

What else could happen? Right? Well, a few months later, I fell and broke my hip or rather the neck of the femur. After waiting 2 days in E.R. for a hospital bed I finally got the surgery I needed with 3 screws holding me together right now.

Sorry about all the boring medical details, believe me, I’m as tired of it. Because, here I sit on the couch or lie on the couch or am in a wheelchair on my way to the bathroom. Exciting, yes? Not! And all this for 6 weeks in order to heal the fracture.

My first thoughts were, great, all the streaming catching up with shows and all the books at the library at my disposal. That only sounds good until you do it. But no whining. A lot of people are locked up as much as I am still trying to find the exit to this pandemic.

I still can cook with the help of Stephen. I sit at the table and call out the veggies I would like to appear in front of me. I ask help for a million little steps that involve cooking. And I should be forever grateful to Stephen for being so generous and being part of every process in my recovery.

I hope I’ve broken the ice and will post a little bit more on here.

Let me at least tell you about a book I recommend and one I don’t. Only recently in my life have I started reading mysteries. Henning Mankell being one author I really enjoy. His book The Man from Beijing came as a surprise. So much more than a mystery. I love how he weaves history and social issues into most of his novels.

And the book I don’t recommend is The Push by Ashley Audrain. Unless you have an urge to feel depressed and down. In spite of the darkness I could not stop reading the book. But stay away.