Today I have the pleasure of bottling our honey bee's output. Isn't it lovely? I probably have another gallon left to drain but it needs to settle for a few more days. These cold crisp clear days are just about my favorites of the year, it invigorates me, with the exception of keeping the stock watered. Frozen faucets and iced troughs...now here's a thought...Rob is off to the farm store for mineral blocks, hows about I call him and ask him to look at tank warmers? Sometimes good ideas are slow to sink in.
Inside at the funny farm FIL continues to pull back slowly from the brink but classic sundowning has been added to the mix of things to plague him, bless his heart. If I can sweet talk MIL into sitting next to the bed and verbally cuddling with him, after about 15 minutes he goes right off to sleep. MIL carries her own childhood baggage as do we all, and she considers this spoiling behavior and last night she wouldn't do it. So we ended up with panic attacks well into the wee hours. We have a new oxygen concentrator and I must have checked it thirty times trying to help him get his breath. When our elders say don't get old...believe it. This is our little corner of the world for the nonce.
How's this for a twist in today's modern medical practitioner? I'm looking for a new doctor for MIL and the one we've heard the best things about is going to be accepting a few new patients in January...but we have to go by the office and pick up an application; from those apps they will be choosing whom they take. Insert thunderous frowny face here. They will see her age (86) and drop it in the round file. She is in better shape than I am in many ways, and still walks four miles a day whenever she can get out. It's a weird old world isn't it?
Quaker Album Quilts
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