Recovering from Boxing Day

direct from the perch:

Yesterday, upon awakening, I was informed by the FSM that the Spaz was in a good mood because it was her favorite holiday-- Boxing Day. This is understandable for a joey. We celebrated with leftos and a long walk along the beach. The beach always puts Kaz to sleep.

Funny conversation with K's hubby, who doesn't like the sea. I would like to live long enough to get him in the kayak some day. When you've swum since before you remember yourself, as we say here, and you feel like the sea is better than the sidewalk, it's strange to meet someone who doesn't even want to get his feet wet! The sibs and I can't wait to wash the heat away and race into the water. At the Preveza "Dog Beach" (thus named because I let the dog swim there), I swam in my underwear because I couldn't resist, and the Dapster pulled her skirt up as high as decency allowed and waded around. Kazzie starts swimming lessons next month and we believe she'll take to the water, too, so with so much pressure, maybe her Baba will give in and give it a try on waveless days.

I spoke of leftos. What did we have left over, you wonder? Well, here are some images of the Christmas prep. Nick oversaw the lamb, of course.

G made old village-recipe white bread and several loaves of whole wheat with flour from the water mill. He also drove out to this crazy spring and got the famous spring water which comes straight from Mt Helmos and used this in the recipes. The potatoes also went into the outside oven.
And whoever wasn't on a ton of medication or breastfeeding imbibed spirits from our local organic winery.

Later, Kazzie opened her (monogrammed!) stocking, which Dap and I had ordered from the UK. So, of course, we chose the name! Here she is checking out her teddy bear, which Grandpa Nick hadn't noticed says Sakis Rouvas on the tshirt! K fears Kazzie may enter the mainstream way too soon with such toys. So much for making the poor little thing listen to Kosmos Radio all the time, Mummy.

Our Christmas-day walk to the source of the life-giving smell did not produce the smell, but was otherwise wonderful. The Spaz and I enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. BIL/Baba pushed us far up and down hills and got a crazy holiday workout. Until somebody had to shove my inert self up and down those inclines/declines, I never realized how many there were on that walk!

Tomorrow the men hit the city so George can meet with his surgeon. We will update you if appropriate. The ladies remain on the perch to hold down the fort and protect it from GYPSIES!!! (coming soon)

The ambivalent eye

On the perch, it's hard to tell it's Christmas Eve.

Things keep happening to set us back. First of all, I already mentioned that I got out of the hospital on Saturday. I needed five whole blood transfusions and two platelet ones, as well as a bunch of white cell jabs, a hematocrit jab and a course of powerful antibiotics. Thank the powers that be for the "collar bone mega multi-mainline", which prevented me from having to have a little annoying catheter in my arm to worry about having break. My poor veins are sick of being insulted, too. How would the docs like to be called slippery, weak, nonexistent, collapsed or, worst of all, too small???

Anyhoo, the morning I was told I could go, G called the Dapster from the rat's nest and told her he had a fever with chills so the two of them decided that he'd spend a couple more days in the capital while she and I proceeded to the country, namely the perch. He could accompany K and the Spaz on Tue morning. That way there would be no danger of me catching anything, which could take me ages to get over. Well, the flu kept getting worse, K delivered chicken broth and staples, then the cough started. WHICH WAS SO BAD THAT IT CAUSED A HERNIA TO POP OUT. WHICH IS NOW THREE HERNIAS! So G is basically over the flu, but a residual cough remains, and he has to have surgery (not immediately, but) sooner rather than later. He's supposed to take it easy-- can't lift or stretch or do anything that could make the situation worse. I blame the pumpkins, but he may blame the fact that he recently had to carry me down a flight of stairs and into the car.

So, on the perch you've got: useless me, who just creates more work for everybody, a handicapped handyman who has to keep being reminded not to do stuff, the mother of a joey who is going through a clingy and fussy stage, therefore severely limiting Mama's mobility, and two senior citizens who deserved to get a little respite this holiday season, but who have ended up doing most of the work. Also a small, spazzie joey. Tomorrow when the B.I.L. arrives, he's probably going to get assigned a few tasks...

Anyone would think we had been gazed down upon by the hugest evil eye ever to open. HOWEVER, at yesterday's bloodtest I was allowed to go home for Christmas instead of being kept in the ospedale. George is going to work with the wonderful Dr. D, a good friend who is going to perform perfectionist surgery and keep the cost as low as possible in the city's newest hospital. Kazzie is allowed to be fussy sometimes because she brightens up our days and provides me with life-giving energy and a reason to keep fighting. K loves the Spaz even when she's being an insane crankypants, so no worries there. The (grand)parents may stay fit and young-at-heart if they have to work hard...

As long as he doesn't fling himself about Top-Chef style, G can cook. Tomorrow's menu includes lamb on the spit, overseen by Nick, of course, fresh bread in the outdoor oven, lettuce and cabbage (salads) from the garden, twice-baked potatoes and pumpkin pie with Nick's pumpkin. K and the Spaz managed to fit in a recipe of mellow-macks yesterday while the rest of us were in the city for my tests.

Also tomorrow Kazzie and I will take our Christmas constitutional in my new wheelchair. I finally gave in and rented one so that I can take long "walks". Right now my legs can get me to the bathroom and back. In the chair the possibilities are endless! In order to keep the style as slim and mobile as possible, we got the kind you can't push yourself. So, I will sit regally in the chair with Kazzie in my lap. We will gaze about at the scenery. Someone will push us along. If this person is moving too slowly, we will call out, "Faster!" If we want to turn left or right, we can simply indicate it with the wave of a hand. Tomorrow our destination is the source of the life-giving smell, towards Katholiko village. Today we practiced on the balcony.
Tomorrow we won't be wearing pj's, that's for sure. And because it's been a while since we've graced you with a Kazzie/Auntie's thighs shot:

Kazzie and I are considering switching our dog choice to Newfie, the gentle giant, for a number of reasons. Of course, the purchase of a car will have to accompany such an adoption, because I don't think they allow 70-kilo dogs on PT. So the financial aspect will have to be worked out. All assuming I get well, right?

I've decided that my upcoming controversial post will be about gypsies. I'm sure there will be a good number of you who will disagree with my opinions. Some of you will be driven to comment.

Well, I wish all celebrants a merry Christmas and let's hope I get another one next year to wish you the same! Be well, be good to each other, do good and selfless deeds, smell the roses!!!

BITE ME!

Actually, Dec 17
Hi, it's me, Barney, that annoying, huge purple beast that toddlers love and parents want to kill. I know you think I was arrested for child inappropriacy or some such disgraceful situation, but no, I write from the ospedale, resplendent in my purple coat. "But, Barney, aren't you supposed to be jolly and fully porpherus, rather than a grouchy, pitiful sicky with huge violet patches up and down your flabby arms and legs?" "Bite me."

Dear Dr P:
You are a sweet guy. You are knowledgeable and attentive. You don't mean to test my pain threshold on a daily basis and cover me in ginormous purple bruises. You certainly don't mean to break my veins and subject me to weird thrombosis treatments including aluminum water (?!?) held in by a giant diaper. However, this is what you do. I politely request, with all due respect, and with your needle at a distance, that you BITE ME.

My niece sends a spazzy threat and a two-middle-finger salute (half the peace sign, as G would call it) to the next person to treat me rotten. So there!


When do you officially become a certified vromyar? If your nose is partly clogged, and you can't smell yourself, does it count? If you're visually tidy, but bodily stinky, does it count? If your family is too nice to tell you you're reeky, does it count? Just wondering for academic reasons...

I will spare you the details of last week, when I sat about the perch with what turned out to be a hematocrit of 12. Are you familiar with those rubbery, jelly-like, amorphous toys sold by the Pakis in Monast? You slam 'em on the ground and they spread out with a plop? 'Twas I. Also, almost no platelets (cause of 2-day (!!) nosebleed of which you really don't want the details), almost no whites. Turns out the mustard is eviler than we thought.

The handyman has agreed to do some guest blogging as soon as he thinks of a good topic. Hopefully he will also address the existence of photos such as the following:

Is this just an innocent fitness planning chat, or is it part of the attempt to usurp my favored status and stage a coup de direction that will shake the very foundations of the KAS? Attention au grisby, Tonton Pierre! Attention au grisby!

may be getting out tomorrow...

18 Dec
Update: got out. Todo bi. On the way to the perch. Περαστικά, G, join us soon. Bring sis and Precious P.

Greetings from the perch

From the perch, on the new mobile internet stick, which is a bit slow, but it's pay-as-you-go, so the best solution for now...

The walls of the rat's nest were starting to close in on me. It's sunny for at least part of every day here, but the sun isn't hot enough to come through the awning, and if we raise the awning I feel very exposed, because the building that used to block the view of my balcony from the next street got torn down and replaced with a parking lot. So I decided to escape to the perch for a few days, to be joined by the handyman, K and the Spaz on Tuesday.

In other news,
'twas with great pride that I listened to the super-duper tile guy praise the tiles I had gotten for the bathroom floor and walls. Porcelain tiles (white on the back instead of ceramic-colored), great quality, from the discount tile place. (Also, the rat's nest bathroom is really small, so in any case, nothing would have broken the bank.) (Except these amazing little ones made of real stones with a few glass ones, costing close to 500euros a square meter.) So apparently one of the reasons these tiles are so great is that they're really hard, which was proved when I broke every single one of my drill bits trying to put up the towel rack. Oh! Also proved Thursday night BY MY FACE!

One a.m. I was writing a delicate email and really wanted to finish while I was inspired. Mom, however, had gone to sleep. The Princess of the Fake Orgasm started up. She had been active throughout the rest of the day (including common silence time (siesta)), but I had decided that I wouldn't do anything unless she actually woke me up. But it really pissed me off that she would wake up my mom, so I got up from the couch and headed to the kitchen to get a frying pan to bang on the wall. Head rush, dizziness, jelly legs, face crashing into the bathroom floor (hadn't made the turn into the kitchen yet, but that "mosaic" marble is probably not much softer than porcelain.) Question: When other people fall, why do they catch themselves with their hands, while I fall, quite literally, flat on my face? Actually, a little more to the left, because that is where the forehead and chin goose eggs are, as well as the dark purple bruises that make me look like I have an off-center BLACK goatee.

I know that you think, especially those of you who have known me a long time, that I exaggerate here, because I want to make a good story. I am capable of exaggeration, but here I am not exaggerating. No amount of concealer is going to cover this up, and with only around 2,000 whites, I will be extra freakish for a while. Maybe on Friday, when I have to go to the city for my blood tests, I'll wear a mask. That way, I'll look like I'm being cautious, and will not get chastised by the docs. I'll already be in trouble because I was supposed to tell them if I got a fever, but I knew they'd check me in if I told them I have had a low-grade fever every day since Wednesday. I don't care because I sometimes have to feel like I have a little control over my life. If I had real control, of course, I would kick my blood's ass and make it do my bidding! I am missing my scheduled chemeo because of my low platelet count. I was supposed to have my next therapy tomorrow, but now it'll be next Monday at the earliest.

In other news,
Kazzie is gifted. Besides knowing how to instill people with healing Kazzie power, she can now roll over! The fact that she can roll over on K and B's mushy-gushy padded mattress means that on a nice firm mattress (like mine on the perch and in the rat's nest) she should be able to do cartwheels. Also, she can speak! If you can't understand her magical language, that's your problem, but she has become quite vocal.


I hope you're not friends with K on fb, because she seems to have gotten a jump on me with this news!!! With the same picture! That day at the rat's nest, Dap also got a pic of K and the Spaz, with me in the corner, stuffing my face with pickled peppers! I'm glad K didn't post that one, and I'm sure not going to! Here the Kaz is mesmerized by a papier maché cat, gifted to me years ago by fantastic student, Lina Banana. I am holding her and absorbing Kazzie healing power and anti-fever power! This may be the last pic I post from the perch because it took about 30 min to upload with the new stick. A bit slow, you see.