Living High on the Hog

It's the dead center of another hot Summer in the deep South. In my younger days, I anticipated Summer eagerly and thrived on days at the pool or the occasional treat - a trip to the beach. Church retreats and camps were also highlights, and of course, NO SCHOOL was pretty cool. Summer was my favorite time of year. Now it's different - Summer presents it's own challenges that I never had to face back in those days. Like they say - 'Growing older isn't for sissies'. Some one said that, and it gets repeated, but I don't know who to credit it to.

So, how is it that I'm living "High on the Hog" in this uncomfortable weather? One simple answer - my Father's garden.

My dad has had the most beautiful and productive vegetable garden every Summer for my whole life. We moved around a bit when I was a child, and when we were in house-searching mode, there was one requirement that was never negotiable - the yard had to be suitable to sustain a garden. Whether renting or buying, living in "small town" South, or in "big city" suburbs, garden space was a must.

He works it day after day, putting sweat equity into every seed, plant, bloom, and ripened vegetable. Mom has always been there too, helping weed, pick, shuck, shell, or can - whatever is called for, she rises to the task to ensure Dad's scrumptious bounty is properly attended to.

I admit I have been spoiled. I won't even serve tomatoes that aren't "real". My definition of "real" is that the tomato came from my Dad's garden. We are enjoying the bounty every day. There is just no comparison between the "things" they call tomatoes at the grocery store and my Dad's REAL tomatoes.

Then there is the fresh yellow squash, butter beans, broccoli, string beans, corn, sweet peppers, okra, crowder peas, potatoes, and at other times of the year - turnip greens. I could eat my weight (which is pretty considerable right now) in these gems from Dad's garden. Every time I see my parents, they have a bag or two of fresh vegetables from the garden to give me. We savor every bite.

For me, I think there is as much psychology involved as there is pure joy in the consumption of Dad's Summer treats. Every time I prepare and serve his harvest, I am reliving the feelings of my childhood when my Mom served up Dad's veggies at mealtime. Preparing, serving, and eating them gives me that warm, secure feeling from childhood that comes from knowing your parents love, care, and watch over you - AND feed you home grown goodness day after day.

So for me, indulging day after day in Dad's home grown goodness is truly living HIGH ON THE HOG, and is a genuine joy of life that can't be matched.

No Hogs were harmed in the production of this blog.

Deja Vu

Last Spring was a tale of Emergency Room sagas; I think everyone in our family except for Michael went at least once, some of us twice. I'm sure we made some one's Jaguar payment - maybe even two. This year I carried on the tradition all by myself.

I had this strange pain in my right leg for a couple of months, so finally went to N.Fulton and had it checked out (I was fearful of a blood clot). After an EXTREMELY painful exam, they concluded there was no clot and sent me home.

Less than 1 week later, on the day of Will's confirmation, I awoke with a strange chest pain that went all the way around my chest, like a large rubber band being pulled tighter and tighter. I was also nauseous, so reluctantly I stayed home and missed his confirmation. When Michael got back home, he took me to the ER at Crawford, and they said I had a "mild" heart attack, because some enzymes were elevated. (Later, the Cardiologist decided it wasn't really a heart attack). During the exam, I mentioned my right leg pain. They checked and found not one, but TWO blood clots. They put me on Lovanox shots 2x a day and Coumidin. The Lovanox was truely a pain. My insurance company took forever to approve it, and it left ghastly bruises all over my arms, legs, and tummy. The Coumidin is no big deal, except I have to go every week to get my blood checked. Then they adjust the Coumidin dosage according to how my blood test comes out. Dr. says I'll be on Coumidin for approx. 6 months.

Now, it's nearly time for our long awaited trip to Louisiana, and my heart Dr. hasn't released me to go. I went to the clinic yesterday and had my blood taken for the Coumidin test, and the nurse is supposed to call me today with the results and with the Dr.'s green light (I'm hoping!) to go on the trip.

During all of this, I was tagged with new labels, "Pulmonary Hypertension" and "Congestive Heart Failure". The second one is kind of weird, because it sounds so scary, and (to me) it seems that if you have "Heart Failure", you would be dead. Well, I'm not dead, but I am told I have "Heart Failure". Hmmm. I suggested to the nurse that they should call it something less ominous.

Anyway, this Spring I was in the ER or Inpatient 4 x so I guess we've made our Jaguar payment for the year. Maybe we're done for awhile - I can always hope. Wonder if we'll ever get the car that goes along with all these payments?

Never Forget

Last week, the United Kingdom removed The Holocaust from its school curriculum because it "offended" some members of the Muslem population who claim it never occurred.

This is a frightening portent of the fear that is gripping the world and how easily each country is giving into it.

It is now more than 60 years after the Second World War in Europe ended.

This post is my small contribution to the memory of the six million Jews, 20 million Russians, 10 million Christians and 1,900 Catholic priests who were murdered, massacred, raped, burned, starved and humiliated with the world looking the other way!

Now, more than ever, with Iran , among others, claiming the Holocaust to be "a myth," it is imperative to make sure the world never forgets.