Everything is Awesome!

Note:  Another blog entry, started in February 2019, but never published.  I've now done a wee bit of editing and have added "the rest of the story" as Paul Harvey might have said. 

I remember back to my childhood that one of the most enjoyable things I might receive for Christmas or birthday was a set of Lego bits.  I know that at some point I received a general set with no specific creation in mind.  I also remember receiving the kit that would make a jet airplane and a double-decker bus.

My main problem with Lego is that I'm not uber creative.  If you give me a kit with instructions, I can make a heck of jet or double-decker bus... but just give me a box of Lego, and I'm lost.  

Of course, then I grew up and had nieces and nephews, and God alone knows where my Lego are. I'm pretty sure that the dog ate a few and I know a bunch probably went down the heat register. 

Anyway, a couple of years ago, there was a campaign to get Lego to do some Doctor Who stuff.  Around the 50th anniversary of Doctor Who, I found (on Amazon, of course, the best store in the World!) a set of the (then) 11 Doctors.  The weren't Lego brand, but they were sort of a British Lego-like brand.  Their feet would fit onto a Lego and that was good enough for me. 

BUT, then the campaign was successful AND there arrived a 12TH Doctor, so I decided I had to get the set that came out, right?  One of the attorneys I worked with just happened to give me an Amazon gift card that year for Christmas, and I decided it was a sign and ordered the kit.

When it arrived, I was busy, and my Who collection was very dusty, and I knew I'd need to clean them, so I just put the box in my closet.  After that, every time my eyes landed on the box I was reminded that I needed to put it together, but...you know I didn't.

A couple of years later, Thing 2 texted me to ask if I'd found the 12th and/or 13th Doctors for our sets (I had got both Things a set for their birthday about the same time I got mine).  I forgot that my kit had a #12 in it and proceeded to surf Amazon to find and buy one of each.  The next morning, when my eyes landed on the kit, instead of feeling "arrgghhh! I need to put that together," I felt "Oh no! I forgot that I already had #12 - maybe I can cancel that order!"  Since I know you are very worried about it, I'll put you at ease and say that I was able to cancel the order for the duplicate #12.

You will remember that we cut the cable cord last summer and are now Slingers.  Sling has all sorts of generic on-demand stuff we can watch and one afternoon, I was killing time waiting for Mom to do something so we could resume watching whatever it was we were watching, when my eyes landed on a documentary called "A Lego Brickumentary"  It was very interesting and educational. AND basically made me rethink my whole life wondering why I haven't moved to Denmark to go to work for Lego!  But I highly recommend watching it, if you come across it somewhere.

So obviously watching this Brickumentary sparked in me a desire to build my Doctor Who kit.

The first step was the people.  I have these three new shadowbox things that double as shelves for the cats when they go to leap up onto the bookshelf/cabinet things that book-end the couch.  When they went up, I hadn't really decided what would go into them, so we just shoved some stuff in for the interim.  But my thoughts had been that, once I cleaned the years' of dust bunnies caking my Doctor Who Lego-like people, they could go in there. 

So I dusted off my Doctors Who and the Weeping Angels, the Ood, the Silence, the Dalek, and the two Cybermen, and put them in order, leaving a spot for #12, you will recall that he was in the kit.

The TARDIS (the blue police box) in the left corner is the Lego version whereas the one in the right corner is part of a salt and pepper set.  

The Lego kit had 623 pieces in it and most of them were teensy.  The instructions .. oh, the instructions!  When I made my jet, the instructions was a double-sided piece of paper that folded up, accordian-style, to the size of a credit card.  The instructions for this kit... a paperback book with 64 PAGES!!  I decided to move in shifts.  First... oh, yes... the people!... and the TARDIS.  It took several hours to put the TARDIS together but by that evening my Who-themed shadowbox looked pretty darned good!

The next evening, I worked on putting the two Dalek's together and it took almost as long to put them together as it did to put the TARDIS together.  It didn't help that I accidentally used some of the Dalek pieces when putting together the TARDIS and I had to undo it to get them back.  You wouldn't have thought that these two (there were two) small little Daleks would require so many pieces and time, but, they were exhausting.

My Aunt Marilee was telling us that she'd always wanted some Lego to play with, so this past Sunday at church, I invited her to come over to help me with the final part of the project.  She wimped out after having issues putting two pieces together.  She said she wanted more of the brick-like pieces.  I think she was just being wimpy.  Nevertheless, it took me several hours, two helpings of Velveeta/Rotel cheese dip-covered Scoops, and two episodes of Midsomer Murders, but I was finally able to finish the whole thing up.

The only problem is that I was left with extra pieces.  I'm 99.9% sure I followed the directions precisely and I don't recall any of my other kits having extra bits.  

For my birthday and Christmas, mom always asks me what I'd like and ... I don't know.. I don't NEED anything so it's always a hard question for me to answer.  In July 2022, I had an answer.  I am on Lego's email-ing list and I'd seen that they had a globe. 

It looked SUPER (parts of it even glow in the dark!!) and I wanted it bad!!  But the price...  So when mom asked, I had an answer.

In early August, after my birthday, mom went to have a week-long sleepover at Aunt Marilee's house.  So each evening, after I was done working for the day, I'd deck myself out on the dining room table and work on the globe... 

and binged Stranger Things on Netflix so as to catch up.   

In under a week, this puppy was done and I felt very accomplished   Did I mention that there were almost 2,500 pieces and the instruction book was 268 pages long?!!  I hesitate to blaspheme, but I could have been overheard saying that something to the effect that God created the world in 6 days, and so did I!  Of course, I did have an instruction book whereas He didn't.

Note: on the ongoing theme of naming my blog posts with song titles/lyrics - some of you may be with it enough to get that "Everything is Awesome!" is the name of the theme song to .... you guessed it.... the Lego Movie!

Forever May Not Be Long Enough (for Our Love)

Sophie Marie Barger

(2005-2022)

My sweet baby girl went blind on Christmas Day 2021 - the Cool Whip on a Cow Pie of a year, if you will.  I knew because her beautiful golden eyes were now dull, her pupils huge and unchanging.  I was horrified for her.  I know I tend to anthropomorphize my pets, so I was concerned about her being afraid and wondering what had happened.  But she seemed to be fine.  After a wee bit of initial hesitation, she was soon scampering around the condo like normal only pausing a little before leaping up on / down from furniture.

I did take her to the vet, who did bloodwork, but the bloodwork came back clean, showing now kidney issues, diabetes, or a third thing which I forget.  So in response to why was she blind now, his response was a shrug.  I never liked him, more on that later, and this did nothing to change my opinion of him.  He said that blind pets can live long, healthy lives.  I mean, I'm not stupid, of course they can.  But, excuse me, people (ok, cats) don't just go blind for no apparent reason!  (calm, Rosemary, calm..)  But then this is the same "doctor" who, when I asked why my solid black cat all of a sudden now had a stark white patch/ line of hair about an inch and half long told me that as cats get older, like people, they turn grey.  Oh, I detested that man.

For about a month, she was fine.  You'd really not have known she was blind.  She did "talk" a lot - earning her the moniker "Princess Demand-y-pants".  Like if she was in a room alone, she'd start wailing until we'd call to her from wherever we were and she'd come running and be perfectly happy until she wandered off and found herself alone in another room again.

For a week or so before Valentine's Day, I noticed she was having more problems - walking into things, not leaping/landing very well - then on Valentine's Day evening, we heard her wailing and when I went in to investigate, she'd squeezed herself between mom's bedside table and the wall and couldn't get out.  Somehow, I knew then that this was the beginning of the end.  It was a very long night for both of us, I'd fall asleep with her in my arms and wake up to her wailing because she'd managed to get herself caught again - like, she'd squeezed herself between my cedar hope chest and the wall (and we're talking less than 2 inches of space between them, here) and couldn't get out.  It took a prayer and a lot of adrenal-fueled strength on my part to move that hope chest so I could get my baby out.

I've always known, since the day I brought them home, that the odds were I would outlive my babies, and that some day I'd have to make THE decision, but I'd prayed that when the time came, I'd know it.  And I knew this was it, so once the vet's office opened that morning, I called to try to get her in and was told they couldn't get us in until the afternoon of the following day.  I mean, here I am, sobbing, telling them it's time for Sophie to go to sleep, and they're making me AND her deal with it for another 36 hours!?  I called various other vets around town and finally, a vet in Boonville (40+ minutes away, mind you), who didn't know me (or Sophie) from Adam, got us in that afternoon, within a couple of hours.  The vet was so comforting and reassuring that I was doing the right thing (because you know of course I was worrying that I wasn't).

Sophie went to sleep in my arms, well, on my lap.  She was cremated and now resides in a cute little urn beside the oil painting of her (that I am SO glad I got).

Last spring/summer, I decided I needed a tattoo for my sweet girl.  It took me a while to figure out what I wanted, but when I figured it out, I knew it was right.  

My only regert about it is the tail isn't as fluffy Sophie's was.

As for Sophie's "vet"?  Well, Gizmo and Cleo's vet retired during the pandemic, so I'd transferred their records over to her vet.  Since they were (NOT) so willing to assist in my/Sophie's time of distress, I didn't figure they needed our business anymore.  And the woman in Boonville was so nice.  So, yes, once a year, or so, I now pack up Giz (or Cleo, respectively) and traipse all the way to Boonville with them.  Gizmo does not enjoy car-rides, so I don't think he cares if it's 5 miles or 40 minutes away.  Cleo, it turns out, LOVES car-rides and I let her sit there with her head out of the carrier just watching stuff as we drive by.  She also flirts with the people in the McD's drive-thru when I swing through to get a frozen Coke on the way home.  

**********************************

I adopted Sophie and Gizmo (littermates) in 2005.  A former co-worker found them and their siblings abandoned shortly after birth in her barn.  She bottle fed the kittens and then when they were ready for homes, she sent out an email asking for takers.  That email was forwarded to me and that was that.  I immediately fell in love with the little womp rats and asked her to give me a couple of months as I was going to have to give notice to my landlord and find a new apartment which would allow pets.  I took possession of my new, pet-friendly apartment and they took possession of my heart on September 1st.

Our first five years together were rather quiet, just me and them... and I was away each day from 7:30 to 5:30 (at work), so it was just them during that time.  They grew from clumsy kittens into beautiful adult cats.

Their first "official" portrait as Bargers

I tried to get them to find jobs as models, but they never did.... I don't think they even tried looking.

When my father passed away in the summer of 2009, I gave notice to my landlord and we packed up and moved back to Wadesville with Mom and her cat Winifred.  Winifred adored Gizmo and Sophie hated Winifred.  About 8 months later, Cleo landed on our doorstep, and Sophie hated her as well.

I quickly realized that Sophie tolerated Gizmo, but would have been VERY happy to be an only child.  However, since she had been declawed (don't judge me, I didn't know any better), she couldn't do any damage to Winifred or Cleo and they, despite having claws, did no damage to her.

After about a year in Wadesville, we sold the house and bought a condo in Evansville.  They all took to the condo immediately - especially enjoyed chasing each other up/down the stairs.  

My only concern was our 3rd floor balcony - I didn't want anyone to fall off and kill themself.  

But my worries were for naught.  They all LOVED the balcony, but mostly just went out to sleep in the sun or in the chairs.  The only one to ever escape the balcony was, of course, Sophie.  She jumped on the railing and hopped over onto the balcony of the condo next door.  I was at work one day when an email blipped across my phone from someone I didn't recognize but the message was "is anyone missing a black cat?"  I knew immediately whose black cat it was and called mom.  I asked if she knew where Sophie was... she said she assumed she was asleep on the balcony... I told her not to assume and to go look on the neighbor's balcony.  Mom tried to rescue her, but Sophie wouldn't let her pick her up to bring her home, so mom figured the better idea (instead of scaring Sophie off the balcony entirely) was to call me - I flew home and rescued my wayward child.  Did I mention that I loved this little hairball?

One of my fondest memories of Sophie is how when I would come home from work - generally, I'd park in the garage and walk up/around to the mailbox to pick up the mail, and then go up the outside stairs and in the front door.  It never failed that as I was unlocking the door, I could see her, through the window in the door, running from whatever part of the condo she was in to greet me at the front door; that little wobbly pouch that cats have swinging side to side; and her hairy little paws making the corners she turned dangerously wide.  Of course the minute I was in the door and said hi to her, she'd turn away and go elsewhere... probably didn't want me to think to she loved me too much!  At this point, with her gone, I really regret never getting a video of it.

  

During the pandemic, I started working from home.  In the beginning, before it became a (relatively) permanent thing, I had my operation set up on the dining room table.  Sophie would frequently hop up on the table and "assist" me. 

Then, after it became a more permanent thing, I set up a desk and she would (sometimes) keep me company.  Of course, after a couple of years of me working from home the cats have generally gotten over my being here 24/7, so I don't garner the attention I used to but...

occasionally, she'd make it known to me, in her own way, that she still deserved MY attention.

After Winifred passed away, Sophie adopted mom and would sleep with her.  Of course, that may or may not have led to the tearing of Mom's quad, but we'll forget that for the moment.  

 

Fortunately, since Sophie never weighed more than 8 pounds, soaking wet, her sleeping on mom's lap didn't hurt mom's legs.

As, I said before, Sophie hated Winifred, but she seemed ok with Faux-nifred!

Anytime I dug out the suitcase, she knew I was leaving and would do her best to prevent me from packing.  And generally, when I returned from wherever, she would shun me for a few hours.... until she'd forget/forgive and hop into my lap.

Nothing to say about the pirate picture, but she was so pretty I felt I should include this pic.

Again, she tolerated Gizmo, but this picture is so striking of how much they looked alike (except for color and the quantity of hair).  I adore that they are both giving me the exact same side-eyed look!

During one of her many medical issues, I had to keep her in a "onesie" to keep her from bothering a hot spot.  She looked like a sausage with incredibly hairy extremities... but she was adorable.  I doubt she appreciates the couture, but...

Medical issues of course included her being the runt of the litter and almost dying; almost dying of liver failure; having a tumor removed from between her mouth and brain-box; the "tummy tuck" to remove the hot spot she refused to leave alone; there was another surgery in there, which I can't recall what it was regarding...hmm..; and of course the MANY times she'd just up and stop eating for whatever reason only known to her.  Regarding that, I must say that in January 2020, while mom was in rehab and my life was falling apart, Sophie decided to stop eating, again.  I was standing in the kitchen, in tears and I said "Lord, You created this contrary little turd!  I can't worry about her along with everything else.   She's Your responsibility from now on!"  And I'll be damned if that beautiful bag of fur and bones didn't start eating right in front of me.... and never just stopped eating again.  

She was a blessing.  She could be frustrating, she was expensive (note that pet insurance did not pay a dime for any of the THREE surgeries the child had while I had the policy on her, so it was a waste of good money too).  She hoarked up hairballs everywhere, all the time.  Because of her, we had to have 5 litterboxes around the condo!  But she was a blessing and I still miss her.  Her being all black and shadowy-like, it took a while for me not to expect to see her yellow eyes peering out at me from a dark corner.  

I can't say if Gizmo and Cleo missed her when she disappeared, but I do know that through some silent agreement, the two of them sort of divied up Sophie's self-appointed duties.  Cleo escorts me to the bathroom now; and Gizmo, having seen how effective her loudly crying for attention was, now loudly talks non-stop!  So now he is Sir Demand-y Pants! hahah!

'Nuff Said

I'm pretty sure we can all say that 2020 through most of 2022 was crappy.  I totally agree with Beatrix (from Breaking Cat News) in that regard.

So you can probably guess why I wasn't inclined to blog much during that time.  I mean. there was a lot of stuff going on in the world: pandemic, election, world disasters, etc., for a while there, the news was banned in our condo.  I couldn't get through a 30-minute airing of the evening news without bawling my eyes out.  So did y'all really want to read about that?  I think not.

And in addition to what everyone else was dealing with, 

• mom spent a lot of 2020 and the first part of 2021 in the hospital for a variety of issues (falls, surgeries, shortness of breath, heart failure); 
• I became her full-time caregiver and had to learn real quick how to make food using abso-f'ing-lutely NO sodium and still have it not taste like paste, lest I kill mom with a salt shaker! 
• work was crazy busy and then in 2021 Berry decided to change contract software, so I was involved in a LOT of phone conferences (for a while there, 4 hours a day 5 days a week!) with the people in India who were doing the migration of data and building of the system and still had to do my "day job", so I was working 50-60 hours a week.
• 
  on top of all that, in late 2019, my doctor and I decided to change my crazy pills.  I'd been using Paxil for almost 20 years! but it just didn't seem to be doing anything for me anymore.  So I took a DNA test (which insurance refused to pay for) that told me which meds would be best for me versus which ones would not.  Believe it or not, there was one... 1... medication on the NO list - any guesses?  Yup, Paxil!  So we changed to something very expensive which, you guessed it, insurance would not pay for!  Fortunately, the drug company had a coupon, so I was able to get 90-day supplies of crazy pills for $15!!!   

My theory is that since I managed to survive all of the above and still change my meds - I think I should be their poster child!  I should look into that. 

Blessings, though, during that time included that God had finagled things back in 2016 to get me to working at Berry because He knew I was going to need a job where I would be able to work from home fulltime to take care of mom.  It's my understanding that the people at my previous law firm didn't miss a day in the office during the shutdown for the pandemic whereas Berry's Legal Department is officially "remote".  Another blessing, not commuting to work meant Rose saved a lot in gas, didn't go out to eat all that often, didn't need to buy much clothes - I wear sweats and pj's a lot working at home, so I was able to pay off my credit card bills and start saving more each month!

So now that life has returned to somewhat normal, I think I may be able to resume my semi-irregular writing again.  I'm sure there are plenty of things you're just dying to get updates on.  For example, there's Sophie.  Ah...my beautiful, sweet Sophie...

American Pie

NOTE:  Per Blogspot, I wrote this blog entry in June 2019.  Not sure why I never finished it, but I feel that it deserves being posted, so, here goes....

In our last episode, Rosemary was able to procure some beautiful fresh rhubarb.

Now, when I was growing up, my mother made a Rhubarb Cake which I loved and a Rhubarb Custard Pie which took some getting past the fact that it was generally green inside (put a pin there for a funny anecdote later), but is fabulous!

I decided that I would make her pie.  This plan hinged, potentially, on two things: 1) my ability to make pie crust; and b) my ability to make meringue.  

My previous history with making pie crust was in the 8th grade, in Home Ec class.  The assignment was to make a pie.  I chose to make a Coconut Cream Pie - don't ask me why, I don't even particularly like coconut.  The pie crust had a rubbery texture to it... making it almost inedible, and the meringue... well, let's just say I think I made a C on that assignment.

Since then, my motto has been "God made store-bought pie crusts for a reason!" so, pie crust - Check!

I dug out mom's old Betty Crocker cookbook (seriously old, like, from the mid-1950's) for the recipe and started to prepare the pie ingredients.  Winifred watched over me to make sure I followed the recipe.

Ok, the custard was successful - it thickened up marvelously and tasted good.  On to the meringue.

The recipe just said to cover with meringue - so I said to my mother, "so, how exactly do I make meringue?"  She told me basically, and I said that somewhere in the back of my mind I was thinking it needed something like Cream of Tartar.  She said she didn't think so.  

So I made the meringue, and it browned up perfectly, as you can see, and my guinea pigs (below) were ready to eat the pie... and they were not disappointed - it was delish!

You will note two things in the picture. 

A) the meringue is not very high.  I later discovered, after talking with my Aunt that yes, meringue requires Cream of Tartar AND it expires quickly so if you pay $5 for a tiny can of it, make as much meringue as you can stomach because otherwise, the next time you go to use it, it'll have expired and the meringue won't be high.

2) the filling in this pie is not green.  Turns out rhubarb comes in red and green.  Obviously my Amish rhubarb was red.  

And now for the anecdote about the green pie. 

Several years ago, my mother made her rhubarb pie and took it to the Barger family reunion in July at my Aunt Mary's.  It was a very hot weekend and our reunions were always outside - they had a wonderful backyard.  

Anyway, at some point, my mother went to the dessert table and as she was getting herself a piece of pie, my cousin was standing there and leaned over and said that she might want to skip that pie because he thinks it's been out of the fridge too long and gone bad, it'd even turned green.  

I asked her if she thought he was joking (after all, this was my Dad's side of the family, so that was a real possibility), she said she didn't think so.  Mom said she told him it was supposed to be green!  I asked her why she didn't tell him that it was rhubarb pie and she said "well this way, we'll take home leftovers!"  I love my mom!  

Ok, so by now, I know you are ALL aching for some Rhubarb Pie, here's the recipe.  And don't forget the Cream of Tartar for the meringue (notice it is not mentioned in the recipe)!

Rhubarb Custard Pie
1 T butter
2 cups rhubarb, cut up
1 T water
2 T cornstarch
1/4 cup condensed milk
salt
2 eggs, separated
1 pie shell - pre-baked

• Bake pie shell.  Set aside to cool.
• Bring butter, rhubarb, and water to boil.  Add cornstarch, sugar, salt, egg yolks and condensed milk.  Cook until thickened.  Set aside to cool.  The pour into pie shell.
• Use egg whites to make meringue.  Spread meringue over custard in pie shell.  Bake in over until meringue is brown.

Finally, I don't know if anyone pays attention to this, but maybe long time readers notice that the titles of a LOT of my blog posts are either song titles or lyrics.  So obviously, for this post, being pie-related, the obvious one was "American Pie" by Don McLean.  But I just want to say that when I Googled "songs involving pie," I discovered an embarrassment of riches when it comes to pie songs!

NOTE 3/8/2023:  Winifred passed away in the summer of 2019.  That may be why this blog entry was never finished.  She is missed but we figure she's up in heaven playing fetch with Dad.