The Nagging Headache.

 The Nagging Headache.

 

Yes, Lewis used to call me “The Nag.” He was “Fang.” But this afternoon the wind and barometric pressure have produced the REAL nag—a headache. We are under a tornado watch, naturally. The wind changed directions three times in less than five minutes, but it went from 13 mph to over 20 mph in the same amount of time. Such fun. Both dogs are wearing their thunder shirts. Sylvia has finally removed her butt from the toes of my feet. Thompson just barks every once in a while, when the wind blows something extra hard. Looking out the front windows at the clouds rolling in makes me realize that the dirt from the west has placed a margin like a bathtub ring on the bottom of these clouds. Pretty sure we don’t have a fire over that direction, but the clouds are the right color for smoke and ash. Maybe by the time the tornado watch is over around eight tonight the clouds will have just dropped some water on us.

 

Boiled a couple of eggs to put in tuna salad and used some dill relish and some pepper rings. Made a pretty decent sandwich. The dogs like the tuna water over their kibble, too.

 

Mary Rhoads came by for eggs earlier. She was complaining that John wanted to get up and move around instead of behaving himself. Sent him a text and reminded him that he does not want to have to do this mess again. We always think that if we are not  having too much pain, we must be good enough to get up and at it. NOT necessarily so. Ask me why. Of course, Mary is still getting over knee surgery. That is not a fun situation. But John’s ankle must really have been a mess. He is in a cast for three weeks before they will even look at it.

 

Sterling got his stitches out of his foot today and has to be a pall bearer tomorrow. He was pall bearer for the woman’s husband, so somehow he ended up as one for her as well. Oh, such is life and its endings. He mentioned some time back that it really was bad that all the friends he has had are leaving him behind now. Think that is the way things work out rather often—old age and the passing of friends.

 

The trash truck will be here early in the morning, but my trash bin will remain in my yard until it is time to be picked up. Don’t want to see anything blown all the way to the state hospital! Or to Lake Wichita, for that matter.

 

Had to clean up one of my hens this morning. She was pretty sweet about it even though she was not too overly happy to be held. Sometimes they just accumulate “shtuff” on their fluffy butts. So, it was water hose and spray time for this one. Of course, that meant clean clothes and washing off for me. More laundry but cleaner chicken butt! Can’t stand for the nests to get dirty. Then the eggs collect yucky stuff. Not happening on my watch! No one gets an egg that has been on the ground, and no one gets a really dirty egg. Grandchild said something about a dirty egg one time. It reminded me of what mother-in-law had said about using eggs she had collected for their own use. Clean eggs are for customers—they sold eggs. Dirty eggs are washed at home for your own use—as you use them. Of course, the best situation is to have clean nests and clean hens. But things happen. It always amazes me that their backside feathers will stick to the egg that is being laid. Oh well.

 

Going to be praying that the weather does not get horribly messy this evening. Would really rather not have to pull that humongous mattress over an old woman and two dogs. Would rather just enjoy the sound of rain and not too much wind.

 

Let us be thankful for spring and flowers that brighten our lives. May those in the Ukraine, in Turkey, and in Syria be blessed with hope and succor. We may not be able to send them food or blankets, but surely we can give them our prayers. Finally, let us pray for answers for every woman who suffers from endometriosis. Let them be healed.

 

Rest well, my friends. You are loved.