THE RAIN, THE PARK AND OTHER THINGS

There’s a satirical expression, “The operation was successful but the patient died,” which is funny until it almost happens.  A while ago I went in for some minor surgery.  All went well and I came home the next day.  Then, due to a reaction to something or a combination of somethings, I found myself being hauled to the emergency room by DH and Beavis.  Things got kind of blurry after that.  Then I woke up in intensive care with:  an i.v. shunt in both hands, a blood pressure cuff on one arm, a catheter line taped to my thigh, a heart/blood oxygen monitor clamp on one finger and an oxygen line in my nose.  Beeping monitors went off every time I moved and every couple of hours a vampire came in and stole blood from my arm.  I felt like Gulliver waking up in Lilliput with a little hell thrown in.  When I finally got my hands free I discovered ekg stickers all over me.  'Did I have an ekg?" I asked.  "No," smiled my doctor. "We just like to put stickers all over people when they're out of it."

I stabilized over the next day and my surgeon told DH I could probably go home in the evening.  DH basically said he didn’t want me any more and they could just keep me.  By the next morning I was so crabby the hospital sent me home anyway.

 I’m feeling quite well now, and I’ve tried to behave myself during the last week or so.  But I finally got such a bad case of cabin fever…

…I escaped and went for a little walk this morning even though it was raining.

 To keep myself slowed down to a stroll I took my camera.

It’s just a short walk across the tracks to the park.

 The place was empty of people…

 …except for some hard-core runners and a few others out for a little fresh air.

 No sweaty university students on the basketball court.

 Nobody to feed picnic scraps to the squirrels.

 The drizzle and overcast skies muffled shadows and intensified colors.

The trees reveled in the rain.

 Everything in the park was bathed.

 A starling poked his bright yellow beak into the grass to stir up a little breakfast.

 

A breeze fluffed the feathers of a crow in the street.

 

Then, to make sure I didn’t stay out too long, 

my camera said its battery was dead.  So I had to go home.

TRAPPED IN THE WEB

Mona gets a smartphone.

I would be afraid to use this.

Super cool at their job.

Super cool at her job.

When you take a nap with your baby

make sure he can't get into trouble if he wakes up first.

I don't trust joggers and I don't run.

If you see me running there is something awful chasing me.

Up your standards.

A GIRL'S GOTTA HAVE THE RIGHT SHOES

Girls love shoes.  That’s a given.  But when you’re growing up on a farm; wading in irrigation canals hunting for frogs, or running through the mud chasing cows, shoes are more trouble than they’re worth.

Still it’s important to make some kind of a fashion statement at school and on those trips to town. 

Usually mom bought my shoes.  

I’d get one pair at a time and they lasted until they were too tight or trashed.

Occasionally I did have a pair of dressy sandals to wear to church.

I distinctly remember a shopping trip for shoes when I was probably about six.  

Mother must have been busy so she sent me with my dad.

 A girl knows how to work the system when it comes to daddies.

  Somehow I talked him into buying me a pair of Krazy Keds.

 I must have heard the commercial on the radio a hundred times

 about how U.S. Keds would help you run faster and jump higher. 

And believe me they did!

 I had to look all over the internet for an image of something like those wonderful Keds.

  Each piece of the shoe was a different color; the soles were soft and kept me from slipping on wet rocks along the ditch where we played. And since they were canvas they were washable. 

My dad worked winters in Pocatello, Idaho while Mom tended to the farm.  Sometimes we’d ride the Union Pacific train to visit him where he stayed with his mother who just happened to be my grandma. 

On one of those trips I went shoe shopping in the big city.

 

 To my delight I came back with a pair of real Buster Brown saddle shoes.

Buster Brown was another brand marketed to children 

on the Saturday morning radio shows.  

My shoes were another pair my dad got for me.

After all, his favorite fishing buddy needed the right kind of foot gear.