I may be a bit too trusting. And it is costing me my health.

Call me high on the “faith” quotient. I believe I am guided in faith. That there are no accidents and that, no matter what, all is well. It is my mantra. I take risks. I believe. I place trust in people.

So, when I became ill last Monday and went in to see my urologist about an infection, I TRUSTED that the medicine he put me on would take care of the infection and life goes on.  I am sure I presented textbook UTI to him.  All the usual symptoms … dipstick and sure enough - small, but there. I had to see doc on call as office was closed. Get a script, get it filled and start the healing process.

Not that easy this time.

Turns out the Macrobid he prescribed has made me sicker than the infection. Pain went away in a day, but the lingering after effects have tossed me on my butt - big time. Anyone who saw me on the Q this morning can tell ya - not my usual smooth self. I stuttered horribly in the beginning. My gut was in a tailspin. I smiled. I chopped and minced. I am a professional.

We look to drugs to help us and, for the most part, they DO. This time, I have three pills left that I am not taking and I am not understandably ill on, of course, a weekend. Everything located in between the collarbone and the tops of my legs ACHES. I am nauseous, bloated and very, very tired. From an antibiotic???? I could barely lift my head off the pillow yesterday.

So, I googled it - MACROBID. Turns out I had the generic version. My word - very few nice things to say about this drug. Making a lot of people sick. Funny that Andy’s mom had the same infection last week, put on same drug, NO side effects.

Feeling this bad once again puts life in perspective. I have ZERO energy. I feel like it could all end today and it would be OK. Yep, THAT bad. Not going to ER because I have no fever. I can breathe.

ACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Andy is at the farm alone. I am missing the raccoon captures that carry on. That would be 3 now. Something got in and ate all 40 ears of our corn two nights ago.

Thinking maybe we bait with Macrobid?????????

Guess you have to read my blog from early this morning to understand this, BUT … got a call that the vet did another study on Sophie’s bloodwork at her office late last night and MAYBE she is not sooooo sick after all!!!!!!!! Two meds being started … prayers appreciated.

ml

The second life begins, it has to end. No way of getting around it. You grab the chance to take a breath, you know, at some point, there will be no more breaths.

And so in our journey, we opt to take chances, to get close to people and living things that will bring us great joy for perhaps a moment or for many years.

Pets fall into my category of joy. I cannot remember not having a pet in my life, be it a goldfish won tossing a ping pong ball into a fishbowl at a church carnival, tadpoles from the lake, a cat named Kiki, a black poo-dell named Brandy who would run down the halls of my dorm looking for me when my mom came to visit.

Anytime you adopt a pet to love, you know the time is fleeting. It took about two days for my goldfish to float. Kiki was a wild girl who loved the outdoors and she came home one day with a huge tear in her leg and that was that. I remember going into the vestibule at Our Lady of Perpetual Help and lighting candles for her recovery. She died. Brandy died while I was in college. After I got married, we had two schnauzers, Ravioli and Tortellini. Ravi went to live in a new home when Ryan was born because I was living in the hospital with him. Torti died from pancreatic issues at age 10.

Then came Sophie Rose followed by two baby schnauzers three years ago, Lucie Loo and Sweetie Pie.

Yesterday, our beloved Eskipoo, Sophie Rose, went in for a routine tooth pull. I went to pick her up and she was not ready so I came home and the phone rang. Sophie was dying. WHAT?? Dying. She spent all last week at the farm, running, playing … I was just at the vet’s office. No indications … apparently, when they drew blood it was thin and they tested it. Severe anemia. Organs failing. Not good. Why on earth she did not call to see if we still wanted the tooth out is beyond me. $500 to pull a tooth from a dog that had days to live.

Excuse me — ACCCCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sophie became a part of our family 9 years ago, about a month after we made the heart wrenching decision to place our severely autistic daughter, Stephanie, in a local residential facility for autistic children. In a funk, I stopped at a pet store out in the PA amish country and fell madly in love with this tiny white ball of fur that took a liking to me. I bought her, tucked her into my coat and carried her to the bus stop to show the kids when they got home from school. She did not take Steph’s place by any means, but the joy she brought to the kids helped a lot. She has been a great dog - sassy, sweet, snarly, a terror to the neighbor kids and a total white fluff of a diva.  She was forever in the trash … eats underwear … gets so excited when she sees me. Loves Andy. We had a great week with her at the farm. She curled herself into a laundry basket fluffed with an old blanket.

Ryan picked her up last night from the vet’s office and took her to their house.  Nick, my youngest, who had issues with the three dogs and refused to care for them, is a mess of emotions. I am not sure if it is because Sophie is going to die and he will not see her again OR because he may come home from school and find her lifeless. Ryan regrets being mean to her. I explained that dogs need to be scolded and that it did not make her sick.

Now we wait. She has days. Maybe a week. We keep her comfortable. Ryan just sent me a text message “she is still alive.” I told him to pet her. To love her. To enjoy the time with her.

Sigh ……………..

ml

This week had been set in entertainment stone a couple months ago - translated - COUNT ON IT either not happening, being delayed or some other calamity like a hurricane. And so went my best laid plans to co-host the big 30 minute kitchen infomercial with the up and coming young and cute Aussie chef. I think I play his mom. ACK!!!!!!!!! Kidding!

Plans were set. Airfare, rental car, hotel all scheduled. It was 10 days of Miami beach bliss that was all approved. Working vacation. Off QVC holiday countdown. Bye bye and have fun.

Delayed. Not the worse of it all - in order to commit to the project I had to cancel the beach house I had rented in ocean City, MD for the week and I lost hundreds on the deposit.  No shoot. No beach house. Go to plan C. See mom in Ohio. Packed, ready to go, enter kidney stone. Cancelled.

We spent a hectic week at home. Our farmhouse kitchen is completely GUTTED.  Just finished gutting and re-doing bath and now kitchen is up. All new everything. It was time. House is 50 years old. Lots of golds and greens. We are going to Tuscan Gourmet with new cabinets, new island, countertops, floor, appliances. House is a wreck again. It was planned for renovation while we were away for 10 days.  Back to city living as we have no place to cook!

What did we do all week? Weeded. Weeded. Weeded. Weeded some more. Ate a lot of tomatoes, in fact, I roasted off about 5 pounds and made my tomato basil soup which fed us for a few days. One night we roasted anything I could find - one pan of gold and red beets. One pan of butternut squash and zucchini. A spaghetti squash with a fresh tomato sauce on top. It was all good.

Last night we caught raccoon bandit number 2 - the bite and run bandit. He took a nip out of every red or almost red tomato in the first three rows. We set the trap on Tuesday night, baited with a homemade peanut butter cookie slathered in peanut butter. Something got in and ate the treat and escaped. Last night, we got him! Big brown coon with huge toenails. Kinda quiet. Took him to Valley Forge Park woods and let him go. 

Planted another round of fall crops. I think we shall have tomatoes until December!

Off to make more salsa. Feeling just OK today. Me thinks the meds for my infection are doing a number on my digestive tract. Tired. In a funk. Just not me.

ml

I know what it feels like to drown.

The dang kidneys are at it again. All infected this time. Had a painful birthday last Saturday and I sweated it out. Not sick enough to run to the ER. I let one of the stones pass on its own. Ended up at the urologist in Monday and on medication. While I was there I managed to get the results of my stone tests. WHY OH WHY is my body making stones? Bad body. Bad, bad, bad. I exercise you. I eat right. I do not smoke, drink or  do drugs. I only take an aspirin if I am dying from a headache.

I am waiting for him to tell me I had some dreaded genetic metabolic disorder or I could not metabolize calcium. Andy swares I get stones from aspartame.

None of the above.

Apparently, this chick does not drink enough water. Plain and simple. I dehydrated myself to the point where my kidneys could not flush themselves and stones formed. The remedy? I have to drink 3 liters of water a day. ACK!!!!!!!!!!! I HATE water.

I have always had this sensitivity to water taste. Ever since I was little. Toledo water was ok, but the well water on my grandma’s farm - eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeew … tasted like freezing cold stone soup. At girl scout camp. Ewwwwwwwwwwwww. Raw eggs. Some water was too metallic. Others too salty. Even some bottled waters get me frazzled - that sparkling German water - salty bleck!!!

Now, it is either drink until you are floating in your own personal ocean OR make kidney stones.

Yesterday was day 1 of the three liter deal. I made it easy on myself by purchasing the liter bottles of spring water. I decided that I would measure and drink a cupful an hour for 12 hours. I made it through the first four. The next were a combination of force it down, gag it down, hold my nose and swallow and just plain painful. I got through 2 1/2 liters. Yep, I spent the day near the bathroom. I have to say, I was less tired, more energetic, I ate less because I was full all day, but today …. today I feel like a walking, bloated human water balloon. It is 2 p.m. and I have not had a sip of water. I cannot do it.

I will try lemon in it. Sparkly. It’s me versus H2O.

Thoughts would be appreciated. You would think I had to eat live crickets or bite the heads off of snakes. It is JUST water.

ml

Forty seven.

I am at peace with it. Happy to be here. In relatively good health. Kids are great and all of them in high school now. Life is full. I am content. Career is on fire and getting hotter.

It is a day of gratitude for me.

I think about all of the things I COULD be doing today. Looking at myself in the mirror and cursing the ides of time - not so many wrinkles as I have a blessed plump face that accompanies 15 excess pounds. I drop that and I will surely start see some! (yet when I film anything or get my picture taken I immediately think  my face is too heavy). It is a trade off. Time is the artist painting random splotches of age spots all over my face and hands - time and estrogen pills to control hot flashes.  The dark circles under my eyes are darker. The furrows in my forehead more prevalent. Grays camouflaged by a talented hair colorist. Mottled, pale face highlighted by tan in a packet, Philosophy skin care and Bare Escentuals.  Cellulite … well ack!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And Andy would rather I did not wear make-up. They airbrush us for TV and it is layers of stuff that leave a black ring in the bathtub. He cannot wait until I wash it off. THAT is love. My last relationship would not look at me without make-up. I had to sleep in it and fix it in the morning. What a toad. I like this me better!

Now, about the “Giblet neck…” UGH. I cornered Dr. Denese in the green room a few weeks ago and asked which of her products might give me back the firmness in the neck region. She looked at me “Dahling, you have firm, young skin. The tendons are getting loose. You need to get injections of botox in your neck.”

One word back to her - “Ack!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Bye bye arms are back. I had to stop training with the toned and petite Edna because of the kidney stones and the budget. I can wave and potentially take flight again. Bat wings. Note I never wear sleeveless on the air! Belly is a wiggle that matches the backside. Legs are pale as ghosts because I do not want to lay out in the sun and get any more moles. Ditto on the rest of me. I slathered on the faux stuff this a.m. and I am icky and sticky and blotchy and the only thing tan on me now are the palms of my hands.

Ack!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

47 … I will not focus on the natural fall-aparts. I will walk my 20,000 steps today (yes, I do that. I have a pedometer I wear all day!) That requires a walk of 40 minutes in the morning and an additional hour at night, plus all day running around all day. Feels good.

Today I will focus on the internal virtues and the blessings of friends who call and remember my day. And our dear friend, John, who died a few days ago at age 55 from a stroke. One minute we are laughing with him and applauding his recovery and the next he is ashes in a box.

There are never any guarantees for another birthday.

Today I might allow myself my annual birthday treat - that would be a double whopper with cheese and it’s mighty 1600 fat packed calories - might not because I had an amazing birthday surprise out last night with Andy who planned the night out and denied all of it. We had roasted beet and goat cheese salad, smoked trout, oysters on the half shell, cod, english pea pasta and 3 desserts - chocolate souffle, pineapple sorbet with coconut tapioca pudding and macadamia nut brittle and black pepper ice cream over toasted pound cake with fresh berries. Burp.

It all looks lovely on my buns today!!!

For my birthdaypresent Andy is taking me on a champagne hot air balloon ride this fall when the leaves are changing. Should be interesting given I am terrified of heights. I cannot get up on a ladder without getting dizzy.

Stay tuned!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

mlk

I spent a lot of time growing up and growing stuff on my grandparent’s farm in Hillsdale, Michigan. So, I know what it is like to see a bare field become an endless picture of corn and soybeans in record time. I remember my grandpa and my uncle out there on their tractors, tilling, planting, weeding, spraying, harvesting … never thought much about it when I was younger. We never wanted for anything to eat. There was always cereal for breakfast, sandwiches and A & W rootbeer for lunch and fresh fish and tomatoes and beans from the garden for dinner.  Honestly, I don’t think I have ever been REALLY hungry.

Since I started growing my own food, most especially on my own little farm this year, I have a deeper sense of gratitude for the farmers. It is NOT easy, let me tell you. You invest a lot - between seeds, tools, time. And you pray and hope even more. Your success is all about the weather, really. And good planning. And a solid fence to keep out the critters. And weeding. And being true to organic by picking off bugs with your fingers. And composting. And recycling. And being proud of the harvest and cursing it at the same time knowing you cannot eat all of it, nor give it all away. So, you CAN.

It would be so much easier to just toss up my hands and keep patronizing the very local amish farmstands. Or go to the supermarket and buy like I have in the past. Still, somebody had to grow everything that I eat.

I am watching the storm “Fay” make its way through Florida and up into Georgia. I have heard the news reports of crop damage and how the farmers in Georgia are hoping it will help the drought. NOT 14″ in a few hours.  If it rains too little, everything wilts. If it rains too much, disease, rot and bugs creep in. It is a delicate balance and one that I cannot imagine having to endure to feed not only my family, but many many families. Every season farmers must endure this plight. We don’t see it. We don’t think about it. But we would be hard pressed if farmers just QUIT and got desk jobs with regular pay.

There is a farm nearby called the Milky Way Farm and it has been family owned and operated since the early 1900s. It sits in the middle of progress - big McMansions, a lot of traffic and a huge strip shopping center on its fringes that was all land when I moved here 22 years ago. The family will not sell. The mother and father have since passed. The son continues to faithfully milk his dairy cows each day. He gets up EVERY DAY at 4 a.m. to milk. He grows all of his own feed and to supplement, he started what has become a HUGE attraction each October - the pumpkin patch. They also added a creamery where they make ice cream with their milk. “You build it, they will come.” And they DO, in droves.

The y0ungest daughter met and married a young farmer from new Zealand who started a co-op last year. What began as vegetables only has grown into eggs, beef, chickens, coconuts, honey and more. All farm raised.

I spent the entire day making 8 small jars of salsa - all day!!! I had about 70 tomatoes to blanch, peel, seed and chop. And chop all of the peppers, onions, garlic … mix it all up, jar it, water bath. All day - 8 jars. I made roasted tomato basil soup early on. Our tomatoes, our basil from the Aerogarden in the kitchen. VERY tasty.

It is a ton of work to grow. It is so very rewarding. It is a non-stop project. If your belly is full tonight, and you are satisfied and happy, forks up to a farmer.

Well, the garden at Green Hills is rewarding us in a bountiful way for all of the hard work we have been putting in.  We are now officially in tomato overload … I guess we should have expected that when you plant 90 plus heirloom tomatoes in heavily fertile soil and then TLC each of them with Spray and Grow and other regular maintenance you are going to get SURPLUS. While everyone around us is complaining that their tomatoes did not do well or are still green on the vine, we are leaving ours on unsuspecting neighbor porches, ringing and RUNNING!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Last Sunday we spent a very stormy afternoon at the annual family reunion for Andy’s side and we carted a HUGE box of colorful tomatoes - large and small. Red, yellow, pink, purple. “Help yourself” sign on box. Let me say, as much as I LOVE tomatoes, if I was not gardening this year and someone else had brought that box, I would have taken 5 or 6 every hour and hid them in my car until they were GONE.  They were NOT moving. Maybe it was due to the competition - Andy’s dad, DC, brought in a huge box of his own and a huge box of cucumbers. End of day we were begging family to take some … organic, fresh picked, juicy, ripe … huh????????

Today I am canning salsa with the unadopted boxful and pickles with the cucumbers no one wanted.  FREE. Grown by family. Step aside from the junkfood peeps and eat your veggies.  Maybe these people have never known the wonders in the taste of fresh tomatoes, sliced thick, on toasted whole grain bread with a janitor on the drum size amount of real mayo. YUM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh well. they’ll be cursing themselves with the yucky winter crops that the local supermarkets carry for $4 a pound.

My mom would have taken all of them.

I have not golfed in 2 weeks. All of the oufits purchased, and shoes and balls AND the new custom 3 wood Andy bought me for our one year together are sitting and getting dusty. Between QVC airings, infomercial shoots and farming, kids … no time for golf. Soon, I hope.

Not back on the Q until next week. Might be sooner so check schedule on home age. Thanks for watching.

ml

I am well rested after 2 hellacious days and as MLK’s world turns continues.

Andy and I headed up to our farm today for some grass cutting and serious weeding. We had 4 hours to accomplish 12 hours worth of stuff. Schedules have not been good as of late and we live in my house in the burbs most of the time.

I immediately triage all of the wilting flower baskets on the front porch and decks. Off to the tomato patch as I am curious to see how many lovelies we’ll have for dinner tonight. I spy a wire cage in between the rows and OMG there is something in it! I scream for Andy and the creature turns around. AH HA!!! It’s a giant racoon, face spattered with remnants of juicy heirloom tomatoes and peanut butter-laced cookie bait. I scream for Andy again. He arrives ………. “ooooooooooooooh, it’s NOT a groundhog.”

You see, SUMPIN has been feasting on our precious tomatoes and assorted blue ribbon crops. And he never finishes like a polite invader - nope - just takes a bite or two and runs, leaving enough of a hole for all of the flying bugs to crawl in. Andy wonders how he got in. The fence is buried completely all the way around.  Of course I started talking to it … cute itty bitty witto racoonie … Andy moved the cage to the SUV. He is going to let it go in the woods near Valley Forge Park. Back to flower weeding for me. Time is a wasting. I look up and see Andy is now trying to get a water dish in the cage.

“Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiissssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss. Growl. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.”

Big coonie fangs come out.

“Andy, he is going to bite you.”

“No he won’t.”

Next goes in a homemade chocolate chip cookie slathered in peanut butter.

“If you want the cookie, you have to move back to the other end of the cage, baby.”

Oh, Lord. I have found me a softie

It gets better. I am weeding around the beets and I spy, under the yellow zucchini leaves, a TURTLE!!! A medium sized snapping turtle. How did HE get in the garden???

We have pets.

Picked two huge basketfuls of tomatoes today - ate my first big pink one. Fresh tomatoes are twice as heavy as the ones you buy in the store. We had a Brandywine, Super Sonic, Early Girl, Yellow boy, Lemon, peach and a ton of various cherry tomatoes today.

Here comes the rain. Rain barrel is working very well and we used a lot today.

ml

I have been up since Satuurday morning at 6 a.m.  This is what happens when a person has not had solid sleep in 60 hours. A recap.

First of all, it is a wonderI can even type. I should NOT have been behind the wheel of a car today. In between the 6 a.m. show and the 9 a.m. pet show, I had to drive the 20 minutes from the QVC studios to home and pick up my son Ryan, and Sweetie Pie for the towel sell. I was barely able to keep my eyes open. At this point, I am WIRED on coffee, diet coke and more black coffee. I am craving sweets. My head hurts and I am eating the remnants of my 4 a.m. Newport Old fashioned Lemon Cream bar sell. Picking at the shortbread cookie crust.

ACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I admitedly have one of THE cushiest schedules on the planet.  There are days like these past 2 when I am on schedule overload and in between airings and kid stuff, there is literally NO time to sleep.  You just keep moving, keep smiling, keep repeating your name over and over again and try to focus.  I would not have made a good intern in medicine. Trust me - NO ONE who wants to live would want me giving shots, calling shots or doing shots. A sleep deprived me is NOT a good thing.

So, here’s how my schedule came down last 2 days ~

6 a.m. saturday - up early. make coffee. go for powerwalk for an hour. Review sell with food stylist. Do NOTHING rest of day.Powerwalk an hour at 6 p.m. to rev up. Arrive at studio at 10 p.m. Meet with David Venable. I am on at 12:15 a.m. following TSV. Get make-up and hair done at 11ish. Wait. Discuss sell with producers and floor managers. Set up sell (Herb savor) in show kitchen set. Wait. In air at 12:15 a.m. Leave studio at 1 a.m. Home at 1:30 a.m.

WIDE AWAKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Catch up on all of the overnight infomercials. Decide I need to colon cleanse, buy a shark steamer, fluidity my chunky body.

5 a.m. Getting sleepy. Almost incoherent. Pick up phone to order a Pasta and More. What a GREAT item. OMG. Dial. Stop myself. I used to sell them on QVC and I have 12 of them in the garage.

Cofffffeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Arrive at studio to meet with Dave James at 6 a.m. because he goes on a 7 a.m. and I am not on until 9:15 .M.

Sit and wait ………………… visit with kitchen guests. Focus on NOT putting my head down or closing my eyes too long. make-up touch up … Robert, the extraordinaire make-up artist tells me to “Close” so he can do my eye liner. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ. I slept a minute.

Coffee. DO NOT eat the cookies.

ON with Dave James and the Kuhn Rikon steak  knives. Sells fly by. Although I am tired, the second I hear the director say HELLO in my ear, I come to life by some Red Bull miracle. 

Home. Kids have to go back to their dad. I send Ryan with  my car because I vow to get some sleep. I have to get up at 2 a.m. for a 4 a.m. airing on Monday. I have the day. I am wired. Sleep? Fuggetaboutit. I watch movies. I clean. I put clothes away. I sort socks. I get in bed at 8 p.m. and fall asleep at 11:30 ish during news. Wake up at 1:00 and I am afraid I have overslept. Get up. get dressed. Drive to studio.

Meet with Dave James again. I am selling Kim and Scotts pretzels and Newport Desserts Old fashioned lemon cream bars. YUM on both. Yum. Yum. Yum. I am on first at third. Done by 4:30 and I am on again at 6:10. Try to stay awake.

Coffee.

Sell microplane grater at 6 a.m. Make mad dash for home to get Ryan and Sweetie for pet towel sell at 9 a.m. Meet my friend Chrissy and her dog, Summer, in Q lobby at 8 a.m. Prep her for sell. On air at 9:23 a.m. A loooooong hour wait trying to keep my dog from riping the lungs out of the little wire hair terriors from the Yap harness sell. The guest is feeding Sweetie homemade nutrition biscuits and she is snubbing them.  I am sleeping with my eyes open in a chair.

Sell over. Drive Ryan and Sweetie home.

10:00 a.m. and I have to be back at studio at 2 p.m. I crawl into bed. Close my eyes at 11:30.

11:35 phone rings … you guessed it. Did not go back to sleep.

Off to studio. Meet with Bob Bowersox who is back from three weeks in Italy and he is refreshed, relaxed and spilling the beans about the wonders of $taly.

2:30. ON at 4:39.

Coffee.

There is an issue with the microwaves and with 4 minutes to go, we get them all downloaded and running. NO break in between BOb Warden and me … BOb B saunters over and there we are. I am wide awake again. Selling this cool microwave cookware from Orka.

Home. I am wide awake. I feel wiped out. I need to sleep but I cannot.

I will eventually be knocked out and in 3 days, I will be back to normal.

So, if I do not blog, I am sleeping. And during that time, I hope all of that lemon cream dessert magically goes away. I just ate enough for a small country.

ml