Verizon man cometh! - Party: Chili, shrimp cocktail, plus food from guests - Ron Rosenbaum Blue Box article - and my former boss Herbert G Tigner

I found this handy stainless-steel table at curbside on the bottom of my street. The guy who lives there, w/his family and two chihuahuas, said the table had gone to college w/his daughter and she's now married w/ kids.

Whenever I leave home I put what I need on the table top. And forget it anyway.

When 17-month-old Grace came over this morning, we found she had crawled onto the bottom shelf and didn't know to get out!

I couldn't believe it, but Nicole assured me, No, she can't figure it out. Finally, she did, and then, according to Nicole, she did her "fake fall" below.

Grace is so fast you can't blink your eyes or she'll get into mischief.

I was all prepared for my party today. Here's my partial guest list:

T.J. Although his family hails from India, he's lived all over the country and has what sounds like a broad midwestern accent. His wife couldn't come cuz she's recovering from a cold.

Margaret, also from India, demonstrated her iPhone to us Luddites. "Look at the way she swipes her finger over the screen," I yelled in amazement. Margaret enjoyed my vegetarian chili using dried kidney beans and navy beans.

She brot healthy snax: celery and carrot sticks, both low in carbs.

Ann Gaugler is part of the Red Cross Disaster Relief team. She's been around the world including to Katrina in New Orleans, which she described at the party. She particularly remembers one old couple whose house stunk from mildew and were awaiting the insurance adjusters: the people who hold the reins of power in this country and make a huge profit from denying people what is rightfully theirs.

I said, Why doesn't the US military go down there and clean the place up? Of course, that makes too much sense, rules and regs prohibiting it, but it would certainly make sense. Hold on, I'll send Obama an email.

Just did it using this website.

Scott came over after all six of us were gathered today. After he came, we had a lively political discussion. When talking about politicians his fave expression is "he's a fraud." Oh, not you, Mr. Obama, certainly not you. Especially b/c you're gonna send the troops who were stationed in Iraq down to Louisiana to fix the ravages of the hurricane.

Linda came late, bearing gifts of red apples and string cheese. I set em up on a living room chair - ever the great hostess! - w/a scissors to cut into the cheese and a k-nife for apple slices.

I only had one apple slice since it's high in carbs and really does a no. on my blood sugar.

I kept the storm door open during the party cuz I like a lot of light.

"Here comes your Verizon man," said Scott who could see outside.

I went out to greet Ed. He's working on Sunday b/c there's so much work to do on account of the high winds we had last week. He lives in Southampton but keeps his Verizon truck with the other herd behind Carr & Duff on Byberry Road.

I told him both my phones went out. He went out back to check and then returned with the diagnosis.

The problem was caused by a family of squirrels who had made a nest in the thick black plastic cable.

Ed tapped the cable w/a long pole before he clumb up and The Verizon Squirrel Family quickly evacuated the nest. They had chewed up the phone wires real bad, said Ed. Yum! Nothing so delicious as vibrating phone wires. Feels good on my teeth. I get to sharpen them that way. And my claws too.

Ed speaks the language of the squirrels.

He'll be out tomorrow and I don't even have to be home.

Tomro is Martin Luther King Day. No mail. They played great songs on the rad today in honor of MLK including Sam Cook's posthumous hit "A Change is Gonna Come . He died at age 33 in a motel shooting in CA that is still disputed today.

All this broken phone talk reminded me of one of the best articles I've ever read: Ron Rosenbaum's "Secrets of the Little Blue Box" in a 1971 Esquire magazine.

It's the story of some clever teenagers - many of them blind - who outfoxed Ma Bell and figgered out how to make long distance calls for free.

There are 71 comments so far. I just HAD to comment. Remember, process your emotions.

Read the article when I was married and lived in Houston. Worked as secretary to Herbert G Tigner, a very nice racist who called his elderly janitor "boy." Just looked him up at the LDS find-your-ancestor site and found that he died in 1984 at the age of 79. He went quietly crazy after he closed some of his businesses down. Charged super-high interest for people who couldn't get insurance anywhere else. His wife's son had a nervous breakdown and thought he was Jesus.

It shook me, said Mr Tigner. I used to fill his sweet-smelling fountain pen. This people were relics from the days of slavery. When he'd make a mistake, he'd throw the paper on the floor, so Boy would pick it up.

I used to sneak in there and pick em up myself b/c the janitor was old and decrepit.

There was always a lovely functional drunk named Rosemary. I began writing a story about her that went "Rosemary sits near whirring fan."

She was always hot and red.

My best friend was Kathy Smith. Oh, the stories I could tell about her. She was the receptionist and only drank when she got home. She'd get hammered sitting out by the pool. Her kids hated her. I dunno what her husband Ken thought of her.

She was a truly lovely woman, cute and very hospitable. But boy could she ever drink.

Hey Mr. Verizon Man!

This photo I snagged off the Internet looks like it could be in my own neighborhood. I keep an orange hazard cone near my driveway so people can find my house. Don't American neighborhoods look mostly the same?

Both my telephones are on the fritz!

The New Directions phone is downstairs. I keep it off the hook so I won't hear it ring. Some people call at 3 am wanting to know who the guest speaker is.

That was bad enough, but then my Ruth Deming phone wouldn't work either!

Mr. Verizon is coming out on Monday sometime from 9 am until 5 pm. I'll either be right here in the living room on the computer or I'll be riding my exercise bike upstairs.

A frantic man I'll call Xavier Shottenstein called the ND line.

His area code was 215, same as mine.

I called him from my cellphone.

Hello, I said, is Xavier there please?

Xavier? There's no Xavier here.

Is this 215-333-3333?

No, said the woman. This is the 717 area code. You've reached the Pennsylvania Turnpike.

Amazing, I said. Sorry to have bothered you.

Someone's wires are crossed and they sure aren't mine.

Whenever it's windy, Scott's phone wouldn't work. This went on for a couple of years.

It was very windy thother day so I guess it's my turn.

I spose you're wondering what my next brilliant move is.

Well, I made the chili for tomro's party and now I'm gonna make yogurt for myself. That Chobani Greek yogurt is, like, a couple dollars for one lousy bucket.

It'll be ready at 7 am tomro, a continuation of a 4,000-year-old tradition that began in the Middle East, Here o Israel, the Lord our God is One, Sh'ma Yisrael.

Oh, I didn't know you were Jewish, Ruthie!

Clang! Clang! Here comes #9 down the track!

Scott and I drove to a very well-attended train show in Richboro, straight down Route 232, which deadends in New Hope, or, if you're former anchor woman Jessica Savitch, deadends by your date driving into the Delaware Canal.

I know New Hope and Route 232 quite well as it's where my dad had his famous head shop - the Now and Then Shop - and it's where I met my ex-husband who is singing hosannas in the afterlife.

The Abington Lines Clubhouse, as it's called, is owned by the train club. They bought it when it was a run down "biker's bar," said the woman who greeted us at the door.

In fact, the place had a funny smell to it - I'm sure Scott didn't notice - but it smelled like something greasy was cooking.

All different sorts of people were there. I tried to get a shot of a man w/a long ponytail who brot his two kids, but he moved at the last moment.

The tiny quarters were absolutely filled up w/trains, small ones, small gauges they're called. Scott's absolutely awesome train set takes up most of his basement and is the larger gauge Lionel.

Volunteers manned different posts around the tracks. Most of the volunteers were 60-yo or older, except for Connor, below.
Hi Connor of Wrightstown, PA, home of the Grange Fair. At 13, Connor wasn't allowed in the club - 14 is the minimum age - but he wrote them a letter and got in. Victor, who I believe is 8, also got in.

I commended him on his interest in trains and told him Scotty works on trains at SEPTA.

At Fern Rock? he asked.

I explained that Scott works in the "carhouse" in Upper Darby. When they fix a train they pull it over a "pit" and then get underneath to fix the wires.

I asked a couple of volunteers what these lights were for and no one knew. That's when Connor piped up and told me.

Here's a night-time scene right out of a film noir movie.

Last night Scott and I watched a Disney classic cartoon from his huge assortment of videos and DVDs.

Made in 1937 for a lil over $1 million, it brought in $184 million for Disney studios. It was the first full-length feature cartoon made in America.

Tonite we're gonna watch Cinderella. Fairy tales such as these introduce children to the harsh realities of life but also show that goodness, perseverance and luck win out in the end. The same cannot necessarily be said for real life. Just ask Jessica.

Carnival. Connor was in charge of this beautiful circus and carnival.

What I like about this is that it's an action picture. The man is hauling stuff into the garage and something is going on upstairs. Connor? What's happenin' upstairs? Look like kids in school.

Another action shot. Train passing in background. This looks like some sort of quarry, doesn't it?

Here's a great shot of a kid whose dad took him to see the trains.

"Dyou have trains at home?" I asked.

"No, but Pop-Pop does."

Couldn't resist taking this shot of a junkyard. One time a guy at Biello's let me wander around his junkyard looking at the graveyard of all the old deceased cars. Is it a stretch comparing organ donation - of which I'm a lucky recipient - to getting a slightly used car part?

Not on the life of your holy kidney it ain't!

Look at this old Fox Theater. The movie is "Maru Maru" starring Errol Flynn and Ruth Roman. Bosley Crowther of the Times dismissed it back in 1952.

Sorry, these stunning shoes are no longer available from the NYC-based Franklin Simon women's clothing store (1902-1979).

Skyscrapers, artfully lit.

Hey, is that her real hair? Faith and Hope Boutique Shop in Abington, PA

"Hello, may I help you?" said Jennifer, above, when I walked through the door.

"Yes, I have an appt with Bonnie. Is she here?"

"Sure," she said and went to get Bonnie. I noticed Jennifer walked rather stifffly as if she were a mannikin, but certainly that's impossible unless I'm living in THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

Ah, here's Bonnie now. She and her sister own the store which is on Guernsey Avenue a few blocks from Abington hospital. One of my dtr/law's friends lives on the street. I think I saw their house b/c the porch was filled with toys.

Ruth with shiny clean hair and patches of hair loss where my antirejection med Prograf has shorn me of my own hair.

What fun it was trying on wigs!



Both Bonnie and volunteer Kristin helped me pick out a beautiful wig plus a good hair color. The wig is being ordered now and should arrive at Faith and Hope in a week.

Their wigs are made from synthetic material. Mine cost about $135.

Can't wait!

Oh, dig this! When I was ready to leave, Kristin said she saw an Abington cop "chalking" my tires to make sure I left w/i the hour time limit posted on the street.

Sneaky sonuvagun!

Guest column published: Become an Organ Donor

Read it first, read it here.

I'm so self-conscious about my hair falling out from my antirejection med Prograf that I got it professionally styled for the photo in the Intell.

My neighbor Nancy cut it out for me. Just visited her and her nonstop barking dog Kailie. It's a beautiful misty night. Mist. That's low cloud cover, right Simon? Oops, I forgot you're dead.

Ran our support group meeting at the Giant this morning cuz Helen is outa town. Nine people. We did great work. People don't even call us. They read about us on the Net and just show up.

"Hi, my name is Ruth," I said to the group, "and I'll be your discussion leader today."

I didn't know anyone who was there!

Now, I think I'm a very effective leader. I get as much info as I can about the person and scribble it on my pad of the day. In today's case, From the desk of Philip M. McInerney, a 'second' from one of my printers. I changed the name cuz I don't want my printer to get in trouble.

So the group is going on, people are filtering in - don't you hate when people come late? - one newcomer had a good excuse, he couldn't find the place - and then suddenly this new woman Diane says, "Wait a minute, you're not Ruth DEMING are you?"

"Yes," I said. "You should be able to tell if I'm a good discussion leader w/o knowing that I run New Directions."

Reminds me of a story the late guitarist Les Paul told about meeting then-unknown Jimi Hendrix. He knew the guy was akin to genius. You don't need a big name to know if someone's any good. Use your own powers of discernment. Trust yourself.

Yesterday was Ada's Monthly Outing. We had lunch first at Phil's Tavern. Meet Ed, a very interesting man.

I liked his shiny blue eyes.

Rich Fleisher sent me an article from the Times in defense of Obama. Unfortunately Goggle Blogger won't let me post it - they frequently goof! Beautiful Peggela is in the middle. Haven't seen her in many moons. Barbara is studying the huge menu on the right.So, we get to the Ambler Movie Theater, a choice of three movies.

I choose the George Clooney film, The Descendants, and sit next to Gerri.

I am a tough critic. I expect the best. It starts out in Hawaii. Frankly, the only movies I like about Hawaii are Five-O w/the late Jack Lord.

Within a couple of seconds, I start having that bad feeling inside....bad movie. It only gets worse. I pick up my pocketbook

My pocketbook is actually a bag I got when I signed up for Blue Cross supplemental insurance in addition to Medicare. I don't like advertising other people's products so I painted it.

I whispered to Gerri, "I don't like the movie, I'm leaving."

Then I raced into Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy.

The previews were finishing up so I got there just in time.

Excellent movie. As we all walked to the car, we were discussing the film. The only person who really understood it was Ada. We all looked it up when we got home. Thank you, Wiki.

Am gonna be up a while as I'm trying to find a publisher for my novel. As I mentioned, someone is reading it, but if they reject it I wanna have Plan B.

Kidney Clinic: A Support Group of Two, very very cool! - delicious chicken dinner coming up!

Just hung up this acrylic by Patrick Otis Cox that I bought when he and wife Yin came to my New Year's Day Party. It goes w/my lavender living room walls.

It was so cold this morning I actually heated up my car before I stepped inside. I hate being cold. Now it's lovely outside. Sunny and 45.

When I go to Kidney Clinic, I always park on West 13th Street. It's free. About a 12-minute walk.

I had a 9 am appt. There were only half a dozen people there including a man who was sound asleep in a chair. I pulled out my terrific Christopher Hitchens book and began reading. This is an autobiography of Hitch, considered by many the best essay writer of our time.

He went to Oxford University and knew Bill Clinton, who he calls a 'professional liar' and always has some other incredibly awful things to say about him.

Soon a tall man walked in, sat down and began chatting with his neighbors. Fortyish, he was "three months in" from his kidney transplant.

The sleeping man awoke.

"Lance, is that you?" I asked.

Sure enough, it was Lance. We'd met May 31, per my blog post.

After our vitals are taken, we're sent back to the examining rooms.

Lance and I sat in opposite rooms and were able to talk.

It is so fantastic to be able to share my story - and have Lance share his - this is why there are support groups.

The great news for me is that the numbers for my BK virus went down dramatically. I called my daughter Sarah the minute I got home to tell her.

My creatinine is 1.1.

Blood levels BK...786...down from 12,000 (it used to be in the millions)

Urine levels BK...321,000...down from 1,700,000

A new young nephrology "fellow" came in to see me.

"You look Chinese," I said to him, "but you have an Indian name."

"I'm from Thailand!" said Dr. Kawin (his first name, pronounced KAH-win).

I told him my daughter had been to Thailand and loved it. She bought me a beautiful jacket and paid only $40 for it. Thanks to neighbor Nancy Myers for taking the photo.

He agreed the things are really inexpensive. In Feb., Kawin will work in Boston. He wants to be a Transplant Nephrologist.

That reminds me that we have several French-Thai restaurants around here I have yet to try.

Lance and I were sharing stories about diabetes. Since he's a duo-transplant - kidney and pancreas - he apparently no longer has diabetes.

BTW, my A1C was normal, which is a miracle. That's cuz I see-saw from high to low.

The phone just rang. "Caller unknown," it said. I thought they might be calling from Kidney Clink so I answered it.

"Is Mr or Mrs Deming there?" she asked.

"What dyou want?" I asked.

"We represent Chimney Cleaning (I didn't catch the name, darn!)"

"I'm not interested, but good luck and have a nice day," I said.

"Bitch!" she said.

"You're a bitch!" I yelled.

I was so proud of myself b/c I'm a really nice person and I was able to talk back.

Naturally I tried to find the company she was calling from and left a message at Suburban Chimney Company. Michelle just called me to 'apologize' for a woman who used to work for them and took a lot of names with her when she left.

Okay, on w/the show.

Lance and I are sharing lo-blood sugar stories. Before he got his pancreas t'plant, he had many lows. We all do. One time he passed out. Luckily his wife Michelle found him and called 911. They knew just what to do.

I told Lance about my worst low, thother nite, when my sugars went down to 43. I said I was gobbling every carb in sight and my mind was in tatters, not thinking well at all.

Lance said when he had one of his lows and his mind wasn't functioning right, he actually injected himself w/insulin.

OMG I shouted, totally understanding how that can happen.

He said that whenever we're low, we always overeat, we don't need that many carbs and then we swing the other way.

So true.

I have a code written on my kitchen bulletin board.


The reason Lance was sleeping in the waiting room is b/c he comes all the way from Lyndhurst, NJ, and leaves at 4:30 or 5:30 in the a.m. b/c he has to contend with traffic going to Manhattan. Hope I got that right, Lance.

And I complain about leaving home at 8:20 a.m.

Dr Kawin, the nephrology fellow, said he got his medical degree in Thailand.

I asked if it was difficult to t'fer credits and he said No. That's b/c for a while America had a shortage of doctors, so they made it much easier for doctors to come to America.

My nephrologist for the day was Dr Gitana Bradauskaite, a very knowledgeable woman w/ beautiful long hair, orig. from Lithuania.

We were talking about Prograf making my hair fall out. She named some other antirejection meds that might not have that side effect - including cyclosporine (its generic name), which is an earlier version of Prograf (tacrolimus), and something called Rapamune (Sirolimus), which she likes very much.

"Your body either likes them or can't take them," she said.

I'll stick w/my Prograf and my Women's Rogaine.

Was wondering what I'd eat for dinner and then I remembered I'm defrosting - not to be confused with deforesting, which is what the unconscionable corporations do - a huge turkey breast I got from points accumulated at the Giant Supermarket.

Before I left for Kidney Clink this morning I left Scott a message. "Please bring me your big roasting pan." I left the oven door open and when I got home, sure enuf there was the pan.

I'm using Scott's recipe for the breast - mayo and mustard - plus I added balsamic vinegar and chili powder. I hand-basted it since I'm a bread-baker and don't mind getting my hands dirty.

That reminds me that Lance, my kidney buddy, used to be a chef! But his friends at Verizon persuaded him to go there, so now he's the guy that climbs up poles and down into holes. His body is as good as new!

Driving home from Clinic down Old York Road, I saw a familiar bright blue Nissan with what seemed like very familiar bumper stickers. Sure enough it was Nicole, my dtr/law, with Grace in the back seat.

We pulled up neck and neck. "Look, Grace," said Nicole, "there's Bubby!"

Grace, of course, was in the car seat on her Elmo.



Grace, how come you're so cute!

Low blood sugar attack - describing the indescribable

While it's fresh in my mind, let me try to describe how it feels to have a low blood sugar attack. It's often the subject of the online diabetes websites I read.

I've had numerous attacks. They are dangerous. You can go into a coma.

Two nites ago I woke up from a deep sleep, drenched in sweat. I was at Scott's. The TV was on.

I knew I was low. When I looked at the television, the people on it were POROUS. You could see right through them.

So, my vision is always affected when it gets really low.

This was the first time, tho, my thinking was not clear. Had I been home, my head may have been clearer cuz I know what to eat when I'm home.

You've gotta raise your blood sugar PRONTO.

I woke Scott and asked him to help me. He said Go downstairs and eat some raisins. Good idea!

I shoveled raisins in my mouth as fast as I could.

He told me to eat some peanuts with them.

I ate a few and then told him I need CARBS, altho it was certainly a good idea to make this a mini-meal, with the usual Protein, Starch, and Fruit.

When I was feeling steadier I walked home - still munching raisins - and got an apple outa the fridge. Apples are high in carbs, so I ate nearly a whole apple, plus my standard Caraway Rye Triscuits, 8 of which are 21 carbs.

My sugar level was 43. Anything less than 70 is not good.

A person close to me was aghast when I said that my diabetes diagnosis was the worst thing that happened to me.

When I worked at the Intell - before 1986 - I wrote the Med News column and briefly spoke to a diabetes expert Rachmel Cherner who impressed me w/the horrors of the disease.

Look, it's not so bad if you take c/o yourself which I'm still learning to do. I've had the condition since April 14, 2011.