Friday, November 15, 2019

Cold Weather Management, Two Sick Kids, and Hallucinating

Greetings to all of my internet friends and neighbors, as well as those who I know primarily from other things that the Net. And to my family who just happened to stumble on this blog post,  I do so hope that everyone has at least one warm blanket.

Yesterday I wrote about the generosity of the Atlanta Air Authority, and their decision to donate a complete HVAC system to one lucky veteran, who turned out to be me, The house is now survivable, even comfortable enough that company can enjoy hanging out with us. Doesn't cost much to run, either.

I also talked, a bit, about my need for coffee most days, but particularly when it's COLD.

Some of you may know this about me: I bought my first motorcycle right after I got out of the Army, and followed that up with at least seven more bikes.

My current machine is a 1985 V65 Sabre; 

65 cubic inches is 1100 cubic centimeters, or near enough to make no difference, and that 's what I ride, when I ride. And it's COLD!
One (!) of the reasons I like coffee so much. There are others.

And because of my fondness for the brewed goodness, yesterday I decided I'd see just how reliable the pot was, with respect to giving me the same amount of brew all the time.

And because I tend to collect friends who also like to Know Stuff and Find Stuff Out, my offer to describe my research methodology was taken up.

But, you won't get it today, Cedar, nor anyone else who is looking for it, because Papa Pat is seeing things, and hearing things, (but NOT believing they are real! A significant point !) and making ATROCIOUS errors, because he hasn't slept since Tuesday.

Okay, Cedar: you asked, AND you shall receive! In a bit...

Procedures and mechanics for this amusing little exercise will be transferred from scribbled lines on a small collection of 3x5 notepad sheets to storage on my laptop  computer screen, and distributed to those without the foresight to opt out. No time-frame has been established as to just when that will be accomplished. Here’s why:

Wednesday (just after midnight), I get a prayer request from Granddaughter Alexx in Charleston, WV.
Alexx and our grandson Esan

My new great grandson Aki is sick. and having difficulties breathing.
Aki still has the new car smell, 
and his tags have not been reemoved 

 So, of course, I pray, and offer words of encouragement. I promise to stay in touch. Later in the morning, I make sure that my gift-from-God, happily-ever-after trophy wife Vanessa, the elegant, foxy, prying black grandmother of Woodstock, GA,  knows what’s going on.
But, I don’t get back to sleep that night, and a nap just doesn’t work out for me that day. No problem!

Thursday (also just after midnight), the phone rings again. I have JUST begun to drowse, but when I hear that our precious Miss Evelyn is sick, and the call is a request to come sit for older (sleeping) brothers Heath (6), and Eliott (3), while Miss Evelyn went to the Doctor with her Mommy and Daddy.

Is Miss Evelyn not the most adorable little gurrrrll?

Her Daddy, Mommy, and Heath, and Eliott

Heath and Eliott make NotASound throughout the night. I read, eat a brownie, make a cup of coffee and drink it while making mediocre French toast, and then  welcome the family home when they return around  5 AM with a not-frightening diagnosis, and an appropriate treatment plan. Hugs and kisses to all, ad I’m out the door, to go home and catch up on my sleep.

Except, I don’t. For reasons unknown to me, I didn’t sleep, once again. And the impairment of my cognitive functions, as well as losses in physical coordination, mean that I absolutely don’t get behind the wheel of a car. I just looked at my watch: 9:42 AM. That means it’s taken me WELL over an hour to get this in coherent form, because I keep making mistakes. I’ve looked up at the screen multiple times to discover that I’ve had finger or book, resting on the keyboard.

So, I’m closing this now, and I’m going to go to sleep. I hope no one knocks on my door or calls me. I might say something rude.

Papa Pat Patterson

Peace be on your household