Day 149 of 365

I don't remember growing up around gardening in California. I remember my great grandparents having a big garden out back, but I only remember corn. Actually, I don't remember vegetables playing a part in my childhood at all.

On the other hand, my husband grew up gardening here in Idaho. Even now his dad still maintains their garden.

When we lived in the university apartments when we were first married, they offered small garden plots for rent on the property. We could see the vegetable gardens from our 3rd story window, and I always wondered why anyone would take the time and money to do a garden.

But after we moved out and got a place in the country, we started gardening. My husband knew all about it. I knew nothing. Nothing about planting, watering, making rows. I didn't even know how some things grew. In the ground? On a bush? Not a clue.

Over the years, I've gotten the hang of it. I'm the one mapping out the garden plot. I know radishes and peas come out first, spinach and arugula get multiple plantings, and it's okay to start digging potatoes when the blooms have died off.

Just when I think I know it all, I learn something new. I knew tomato plants need cages, but...if you plant beefsteak tomatoes (which most of ours are) and water, fertilize, and weed properly (which most years we get a bit lazy with), the metal cages you buy at the store won't work. Because each one of those beefsteak tomato plants, when tended to properly (like this year) will produce dozens of huge tomatoes. Too many for the metal cages to hold them and the cages will wind up flat on the ground from the weight. Although they are just as tasty, just as bright, and go great in fresh salsa.

From the garden today came a jalapeno pepper, a serrano chili pepper, and some beefsteaks. Chopped an onion, threw in a bit of chili powder and garlic, and added a bit of fresh squeezed lime juice and salt.

Yum! After giving it a taste, next time I'll go with one chili pepper instead of two. It was mighty hot.

Exercise update: 103 consecutive days. I stopped tracking my mileage, though.

Day 148 of 365

In 1984:

• Ronald Reagan was president.
• The Space Shuttle Discovery had its maiden voyage.
• A gallon of gas was $1.21.
• The movies Terminator and Sixteen Candles came out.
• The PG-13 rating was introduced.
• The Cosby Show started.

On this day in 1984 I was just barely 19 years old. Both of us were in college but working during the summer. I had long fingernails and he had a curly perm. I had an ugly lime green 1970 Ford Maverick with four brand new tires. We had not much else.

No credit cards, no microwave, hardly any furniture, a small black and white TV, and only one telephone.

But we had a wedding on this day. A dress, a rented white tux, and a church. Flowers from my in-laws garden. And a potluck at their house for our reception.

27 years ago today, I married the man I met in the Boise State University Library during finals week. The man who kept coughing as I was studying for my first semester of college finals. The man who, every few minutes, had some "jock" coming over to talk to him. The man who was distracting me from my studies for what seemed like forever, yet came over before he left and said to a then 17 year old girl (me), "Excuse me miss, sorry for coughing."

Every year on our anniversary we do something special. A vacation somewhere, dinner out, gifts, or special dinner in.

But not today. My husband is at his latest conference this week and won't be home. He called me on his lunch break, but the celebration will wait. After 27 years, celebrations for anniversaries aren't what they used to be anyway.

How did I spend my day? In the sewing room and in the gardens, of course. (As if I haven't mentioned it enough lately, I'm getting tired of putting up with my back. I still - even after all I've done - can't work but a few minutes before it gives out. Grrr!)

On a more pleasant note, I did manage to capture a picture of the rose named Evelyn.

Day 147 of 365

I possess a multi-generational button collection.

I didn't start collecting buttons on purpose. I got some of my grandmother's buttons after she passed away, some of my mom's when she got rid of all her sewing and craft things, and I had some of my own.

When my daughter was little I used to make many of her clothes. Wild looking outfits with matching tops and bottoms. Stars, stripes, polka dots, all in bright colors. I purchased many a button thinking I'd use it for an outfit. But as I quickly learned, elastic in pants for a three year old was a better alternative.

I also have other buttons I've saved. When we buy an article of clothing and an extra button comes with it, I add it to my collection. (I even save the tiny bag the button comes in.) Old, ratty shirts that can no longer be used? I cut the buttons off and keep them. Pajamas that have seen better days? Keep those buttons.

I've used up some of the buttons I had purchased. I made my daughter a sweatshirt covered in a few dozen big, bright, bold buttons. I've even made a little wall quilt called, "Button, Button" that is covered in...buttons.

All those extra buttons have come in extremely handy. More than a few times we've lost buttons off of clothing and I just so happen to have one close enough to pass for the original. And those buttons have come in extremely, extremely, handy for the Turtle Pillows. 46 buttons are needed, in matching pairs. For each pillow, I'm trying to find just the right color button. For the most part I've been using black, but am starting to branch out into different colors.

Except all those buttons - Grandma's, Mom's, my purchased ones, and my don't throw it away, let's keep it ones are all mixed together in a big container. Which makes it hard to find a matching pair. For years every time I've needed a button, I dig through the box. Again, and again, and again, until I find a matching set.

It wastes a lot of time. And with school looming on the horizon my time is becoming sacred. To hasten the turtle production, I finally took the time out to organize the buttons. Now I can find the colors I want without pouring through thousands of buttons. And I've even matched up quite a few. I knew those little button bags would come in handy some day!

Anyone need white buttons? I think I have more than enough for a lifetime.

Decorating Ladybug and Beehive Sugar Cookies - Day 146 of 365, Tutorial Tuesday

I got to go out to lunch again today.

When I was working, I taught (and later had an office) right next to a gal from work. Every time the school year ended, we talked about meeting up in the summer to do something. And for the 10+ years we worked right next door to each other, we never did.

But this summer has been different.

We've met for lunch on Day 114 when I talked her ear off. We went to the movies (or the show, as she calls it) on Day 127.

Day 127 was when I had the torturous conversation with myself about making her some decorated sugar cookies. I never did make them, knowing that I would eat my fair share. It wound up not making a difference, as I went and picked up some ice cream/candy concoction that same day and wound up eating it without even realizing it.

So now today on Day 146 I met her for lunch (she was buying as a birthday present). This time I brought her some sugar cookies. I bravely faced my fears of sugar and plowed forward.

Today's picture is the cookies I delivered.

But wait - there's a bonus!

I made a video tutorial on how to decorate them. Take a look...

Day 145 of 365

As I sat in the waiting room of the Pain Clinic this morning, I was thinking I didn't belong there. This was my second visit and again I noticed there are two types of people who go there.

The first kind are folks who look like, well... look like they're on drugs. Eyes heavy, slurred speech, unsteady while walking, unkempt. While waiting for my appointment at 9:30, I listened as a gal was explaining to the receptionist how she needed her morphine and how she couldn't wait until her 2:15 appointment to get it. Explained she was taking other pain killers but they weren't working like morphine did. How she needed to get in sooner so she could get her morphine sooner. I got the impression by listening and watching the receptionist during the conversation that this happens quite often.

The other folks there are too happy, talking non-stop to other patients and staff. At most doctors offices, people for the most part keep to themselves. But both times I've been at this particular place, strangers are striking up conversations (and they're not quiet about it) left and right. Who comes to a pain clinic, all chipper and hyper? People on drugs.

This isn't a pain clinic in some strip mall - it's in a reputable hospital in Boise. There I sat, no pain pills in my system, wondering if I'd stepped into the Twilight Zone.  Which group of people would I fall into after this appointment?

As it turned out, neither group. The MRI results the doctor was waiting on never arrived. He did find some notes about the MRI from my previous doctor, but now this pain clinic doctor has decided he wants a new MRI.

So now I'll wait on insurance approval, try and fit an MRI in between my work schedule, and go back to the clinic in a few weeks. More waiting without relief.

To add insult to injury, I received two bills from my last visit to the pain clinic. My doctor's copay had already been paid, but the additional bill was from the clinic itself. I was charged a $75 "facility usage fee" for use of the clinic. Insurance paid most, but it looks like every visit I'll have to be paying my copay to the doctor and a fee to the clinic. Never heard of such a thing.

I'm this close (imagine my thumb and forefinger almost touching) to calling it all off. But having updated MRI results would be helpful. I just don't know how helpful it is to keep dragging this out.

On a more pleasant note, this afternoon I wasn't dragging things out but digging things up.

Some new red potatoes from our garden.