swim meet (aka purgatory)

DS1 had his second swim meet today. His first meet, last month, was the occasion of my return to driving, post-surgery. Today's driving was easier on me, but the meet itself... well: see the title of this post.

DS1 swims with Sun Devil Aquatics, and the meets are held at the Mona Plummer Aquatic Center at ASU. It's a big facility with several pools; there are some not shown in this picture, I think. One of the covered pools there is a diving pool, and one of the few pleasures of having to go to one of these things is being able to watch the college kids practice their dives.



These next couple of photos show the general chaos that is the deck, where the kids wait to swim, and the staging area where they go while they're waiting for their heats.



The meets generally start at 10. Swimmers need to be there at 9:15 for warm up, after that they kick everyone out of the pools because 1) they need the big one for the races and 2) the coaches have to keep track of their kids who are racing.

That leaves dozens of kids aged 7 and up basically left to their own devices, waiting for their events: Parents who are not working the meet in some official capacity are strongly discouraged from being on deck. You can pop in to say hi or drop off a snack or something, but you're not supposed to hang around.

Needless to say, this is not the type of environment in which DS1 feels comfortable, but he endures it for the swimming. He's not exactly shy but he is socially awkward around strangers -- around people he knows well, he can be the entertainer. In spite of my encouraging him to talk to the other kids around him, he steadfastly refused. And of course, I can't hang around to drag him into anything, either.

One of the big problems is that he is the only boy from his practice group that is swimming in meets yet. So the kids he practices with twice a week are never around for the meets. I think once (if?) those kids start showing up, he's be a lot more comfortable. By then he'll be an old hand and can show them around. For now, though, he's still getting the hang of it, especially with the colder weather, which brings it's own set of challenges.

First meet, DS1 wasn't staged properly (they weren't very organized), and he missed his first race. This time, they were better organized about getting the kids into the staging area, but he again missed his first race because he couldn't find his goggles. When he took off his sweatshirt, the goggles went, too, and he panicked. Instead of asking for help -- if he had just said, "I can't find my goggles!" any one would've said to him, "Are they in your shirt?", I had witnessed the exact same scenario before practice! -- he freaked out. Witnessing this, I dashed downstairs to nip that in the bud. (Counting backwards from 10 was surprisingly effective.)

The thing is, you miss a race? There's always another meet next month, no big deal.

Anyway, that moment of anxiety was preceded by about 3 hours of hanging around, waiting for him to swim. He was ready, too, up until the last second, when all of a sudden, he wasn't. It kills me, because this is something he must figure out for himself. I have to let him screw up, although I will step in and help with the recovery -- because, first of all, it's against the rules for me to babysit him, and second, this is his activity, he needs to learn the ropes for himself.

Second race went off without a hitch, and then we high-tailed it out of there. By the time we got home it was nearly 2PM. And even though I was just sitting around for the majority of that time, I was exhausted by it. I hold this vague notion that by sheer force of my wishing it to be so, I can make him happy/comfortable/successful, whatever -- I know it doesn't work that way, but I can't help it. If positive vibes help, I'll give him as many as I can.

This has been a rough few days. I can't believe Christmas is a week from tomorrow. It seems simultaneously much too near and yet impossibly far away.

holiday shopping advice

While shopping for gifts, do not pause to try on the white fleece pullovers, especially when you're wearing a black cashmere sweater.

revisiting Cameron's TITANIC

Back in 2000, very late to the game, I posted a minor rant about James Cameron's Titanic over on Epinions. My problem with the movie centered around Rose's statement, regarding Jack: He saved me, in every way a person could be saved.

Now, for reasons unfathomable to me, Titanic is in heavy rotation on HBO. Last night I had four loads of laundry to fold, and there was nothing else on, so...Titanic it was. I've watched bits and pieces of it ever since it showed up on the schedule; I've no intention of ever sitting through the entire thing ever again, but it's good to fold clothes by. I'm still trying to figure out why it was such a huge hit. There's so much good, and so much bad, it's hard to decide where I stand on this behemoth. It's fascinating to me how watchable it is, in spite of its faults.

The movie has good "bones", in that the basic story is quite simple, and the framing device of the modern-day dive to the wreck is very effective. The whole thing just looks gorgeous, even though some of the special effects work is obviously just that. The meticulous attention to detail in the sets, costumes, and props just blows me away, as does all the footage of the deep dive.

But once you get past the basic outline and the look of the thing, it starts to come apart. I will never understand some of Cameron's decisions in putting this thing together.

I contended back in 2000, and still maintain, that Rose saved herself, and by failing to even notice that, Cameron missed a huge opportunity. Now, upon re-watching, I discovered a scene I had completely forgotten, early in the movie, in which Rose flatly says, It's not up to you to save me, Jack. Jack, being the wise young man that he is, replies, You're right... Only you can do that. This is exactly right, but it goes by so quickly, and is completely contradicted by Old Rose's "he saved me" speechifying that no one ever remembers it. Why would Cameron bother to include the earlier exchange only to so thoroughly dispute it in the end? If anything, these two lines of dialog increase my frustration with the film, because they show how close Cameron came to making something transcendent instead of maudlin. (I will, however, amend my previous criticism to acknowledge that Jack did save Rose by getting her safely away from the sinking ship and onto that door; otherwise she would've died of hypothermia like the rest of the doomed passengers.)

Another sticking point for me: the deep dive is awesome in its own right, so why was its purpose to recover the fantastic diamond? Why would anyone be foolish enough to think that they would be able to recover it? The "needle in a haystack" comparison is more than apt. So the whole business with the diamond is quite silly, and it still annoys me that Rose tosses it overboard at the end -- why couldn't she just give it to Bill Paxton, and let the thing make someone happy for a change? Minor nitpick: Le Couer de la Mer translates as "the Heart of the Sea," not ocean. Ocean in French is océan!

Speaking of silly, I keep getting tripped up by the dialog. All of it, really, but there's one particularly egregious passage. Rose's famous "I'll never let go" has been quoted as a laugh-line often, usually followed by the observation, "Uh, Rose? You just let go." The dialog fails utterly here. I realize that "letting go" or "not letting go" is the recurring motif of the movie, but in every instance except this last, it is used when someone is physically holding on to someone or something else. Rose's "I won't let go" is her way of reassuring Jack that she won't forget her promise to him to never give up; here's the passage, courtesy of IMDB's quote page:

Jack:You must? you must do me this honor... you must promise me that you'll survive... that you won't give up... no matter what happens...
Jack: No matter how hopeless... Promise me now, Rose... and never let go of that promise.
Rose: I promise...
Jack: [whispers] Never let go...
Rose: I'll never let go, Jack... I'll never let go.

Who talks about "letting go" of a promise? I get what Cameron was trying to do there, but he couldn't pull it off. Thus was born one of the biggest unintentional jokes of the late 20th Century.

Over on Althouse, we were discussing Oliver Stone's upcoming 9/11 movie, and someone brought up Titanic; commenter "Joe Baby" even brought up the "I'll never let go," line, which had us all cracking up. I said comparing the two efforts would be like comparing apples and hand grenades. While both involved massive loss of life, one was accidental, the other deliberate mass-murder. But there are scenes of Titanic that took on new, chilling meaning, post-9/11. After the ship has broken in two, the stern upends and looks like nothing so much as a surreal skyscraper, bobbing in the ocean. In the wide-shot scenes, you can see a few passengers leap from the decks into the frigid water below, calling to mind those people,trapped in the upper floors of the World Trade Center, who tried to jump to safety. Titanic's jumpers fared no better than those of the WTC; the sheer brave futility of the effort remains heart-breaking.

Back in 2000, I gave this 3 stars out of 5, and that's probably about right. The dialog is stupid and the characters are tissue-thin and one dimensional, but the sheer spectacle of seeing the destruction of the Titanic overshadows all of that. Cameron's intention, I think, was to allow us to see the horrific tragedy in a way that was not voyeuristic. As annoying as Rose and Jack are, they provide the eyes through which we see these events unfolding. As devices, they're successful. As fully realized characters that we can identify with, they fail with the majority of the audience, the notable exception being pre-teen girls. As a love story or commentary on human relationships, Titanic stinks. But as a means by which we can better understand the full horror of that terrible accident, it works, and it works very well.

two views

Insides, it's Christmas:




Outside, it's...

Oranges,


... and lemons. Just in time for holiday baking!

indeterminate

What kind of day will today be?

DH is off with the two older kids; he takes them to school then heads to work himself.

DS2 is still sleeping, and I'm here at the computer enjoying the quiet. He has school today, but I'm on the fence about sending him, especially since he's not up yet. Technically he's OK to go, having been on the antibiotics for 2 days, he should no longer be contagious. And he certainly seemed fine most of the day yesterday, except for occasional crankiness.

Will another day at home speed up his return to wellness, or will we just end up getting on each other's nerves? I haven't been around all that much the past 2 days, DS2 has spent a lot of time with the babysitter. So maybe he's ready for a "mom" day.

The question is, am I? In spite of spending the last 2 days mostly running around, I still have out-of-the-house things that must get done. It would be better if I didn't have to bring DS2 along with me -- besides, if he's not well enough to go to school, we will stay home.

Decision time -- I'm going to go wake him up. After that, we'll see how it goes.

the stroboscopy experience

On Tuesday, I drove up to Phoenix for my video stroboscopy. My ENT, the wonderful Dr. O, had noticed chemical erosion on my throat structures, and was concerned there was some weirdness in my vocal folds. He 'scoped me at my last appointment, and saw enough to warrant doing the stroboscopy, so we set it up.

First off, it doesn't hurt, and it's only mildly uncomfortable. The equipment used by the voice therapist who did my exam uses a tiny digital camera at the end of a silver tube, about the diameter of a pen, maybe a little wider, and somewhat flattened. Basically: the camera is slid back along your tongue until it can see down your throat.

The reality is a bit more tricky than that, but nothing too horrible -- at least for me. I'm lucky in that I don't have a psychologically-triggered gag reflex. The one time she did tag my uvula, I had to cough, but it only happened once during the entire exam.

I've been through a number of procedures that visited various levels of indignities upon me. It's medicine, it's impersonal, I know that, and I can usually keep myself from thinking things like, I look ridiculous! Usually.

But doing the stroboscopy requires that the patient:
1) hold a stethoscope-like disk against the throat with one hand (this allows the timing of the strobelight to be adjusted to the vibration rate of the vocal structures, the therapist explained to me)
2) stick out the tongue and firmly hold it out and down, with the other hand (the tongue is held by a piece of gauze so your hand doesn't get slimy and the tongue won't slip out of your grasp)
3) lean forward, tip the head back, and jut the chin out simultaneously.

If you can imagine this position, you'll know how downright silly it sounds, before the therapist even starts the examination procedure. So, I did all these things and it's all I can do not to laugh, and then...

The procedure starts. The therapist slides the camera wand in to the back of my mouth, just so it peers down my throat. This is tremendously distracting because facing the chair I'm sitting in is a big screen flat-panel TV that's live-broadcasting the camera's signal. It's so cool!

But now the real fun begins: Say "E", the therapist says. I try to say "E" but it comes out more like "A" -- well, really, it sounds like a wounded animal vocalizing its pain. Smile big, the therapist encourages me, and I push up the corners of my mouth -- Ah, there it is, "E". Now we're cooking, I thought.

It turns out "E" was the least of my problems. I had to do low Es and high Es, and other sounds, too. My biggest problem? I was acutely conscious of how ridiculous I looked and how silly I sounded! I had to really clamp down on that feeling otherwise I would've been laughing throughout. As it went I had to pause 2 or 3 times just to compose myself.

That was it for the exam -- I'd say the camera was in there maybe 15 minutes at most. There's a lot of setting up and figuring out how things will work, etc, but the procedure itself is short and painless -- if you can keep from gagging or cracking up.

In spite of my giggles, the therapist said I did very well. Dr. O will review the recording, of course, but she told me that I do have some paralysis/weakness in the right vocal folds, which are muscles inside the neck. This makes complete sense given that I'm still suffering from numbness on the outside of my neck, and I've been working for nearly 8 weeks to restore the strength and control to my right shoulder, arm, wrist, and hand that the surgery whacked. She recommended voice therapy, because she could hear the tightness in my voice (I hear it too), and because I probably am aspirating stomach acid because the folds are not closing properly. (She did say that the increased dosage of Prilosec seems to be helping with that as well -- there was evidence of past erosion, but it seems to be healing now.)

In the meantime, she gave me an exercise I'm supposed to do for 2 to 3 minutes, 2x/day for 4 weeks: sirens. You start low and support with your breath, make an "O" sound and increase both the pitch and volume, sliding up, then decreasing both pitch and volume sliding back down. She and I practiced 3 or 4 times.

I can't do it. I find myself singing discreet notes which is not what I'm supposed to do. I also feel like a complete idiot! It really does sound like caterwauling, and to do it for 3 whole minutes? Yikes!

Well, I'll try -- I want a strong, flexible voice! But I'm going to have to search for a siren recording that I can imitate, because doing it on my own is just not working.

* * *

Part of me wants to say No more tests, ever! because every time I have a diagnostic test, it finds something. So far all the "somethings" have been correctable, but it is getting old. The results from the stroboscopy were to be expected, really -- there was so much work done in my neck that it would be rather a miracle if there were not any nerve problems. Since my overall recovery has been fantastic, I think I'll be satisfied with that one miracle -- no need to get greedy and ask for another.

I'll just add "vocal fold paralysis; needs therapy" to my ever-growing list of "stuff that can't be ignored or I will be very, very sorry later." Better to deal with it now.

seesaw day

Up and down, up and down...

Elf worked me hard in PT today, increasing my resistance on all my exercises (Down, just because it was hard!), but then she "graduated" me: no more PT! Well, I have to do the exercises at home but that's a lot easier to schedule, and it's free! (Up)

Took the van over to have someone look at the stereo. It's toast (Down). The technician retrieved my U2 CD (Up). He then installed a new one in less than 5 minutes (Up: tunes in the car again! Down: $$$) Merry Christmas to me!

Christmas shopping at Toys'r'Us. I found just the right things (Up) and spent another fortune (Down).

Driving the van, I noticed vibrations at highway speeds,(!!!) so I took it back to the service center. They test drove it and noticed the vibration, too. They rotated the wheels back to their original locations and the vibrations disappeared. They suggested taking the van back to the tire store and having them re-balanced. I'm still scratching my head over that one, but I'll call the tire store and ask the manager about it. There's something weird going on there. (stuck in the middle)

Back home, my older sister has sent a HUGE box with Christmas presents. We open the box and the kids put the presents under the tree. (Up, up, up) Then they start fighting over the box! (Down) I put the box out in the garage, with the usual "if you can't play nicely and share, you won't get to play at all" naggage. (Down)

DS2 and DS1 are at logger-heads over something, and DS2 is crying and screaming about it. (Down, down, down) I investigate and discover that the little one is upset because the big one will not do what he says. I review the Rules of Control: The only person you control is yourself. If someone else is trying to control you, let me know and I'll put a stop to it. Doesn't work. I end up yelling at DS2 just to be heard over his caterwauling: It's NOT important. Do what you want! (Down, with a sore throat now)

There was a tin of gingerbread cookies in the package my sister sent. They are fantastic! (Up)

I'm trying to stay on top of things today, and clear the decks of things that I could have, should done, but haven't been doing. So, I finally stuffed and sealed the Christmas cards, and I defrosted something for dinner, and sorted the laundry. (Up)

When I opened the washing machine, there was a load of damp (slightly stinky) clothes in there. (Down) DH left them there from Sunday when he washed his jeans before going to the football game. I had no idea they were there, obviously, or I would have taken caren of them... on Sunday. Now I have four loads of laundry to do, with a very cantankerous dryer. (Down) I start up the machine again, adding new detergent.

When the cycle is complete, I transfer the re-clean clothes into the dryer and see that DH didn't check the pockets: there are bits of tissue all over everything. Ick. I locate the remains of the tissue in one of DS1's pockets, and hope everything else spins off in the dryer, and I start it up.

So far, the dryer has not stopped at all. (Up)

Did I mention the gingerbread cookies are fantastic? (Up) The tin is very pretty, too.

best of, first wave

I finally created and linked to posts for the "Best of..." category in the sidebar there. The Parenting and Food,Cooking,Recipes pages are already populated; the rest of them will come soon.

Sorry it took so long, and I hope you enjoy them.

who gets the nod?

I have shopping to do on Amazon, and I'm faced with a difficult decision.

Whose links should I click through? Who most deserves the few bucks of commission that my twiddly purchases will merit?

Why do I have to overthink everything?

better late than never

This week's edition of Grand Rounds (vol 2, no. 12) is up over at In the Pipeline. My post on physical therapy is included.

I love Grand Rounds. There's such a great mix of personal, professional, and med-technical stuff included, you always learn something.

second wind

Today I was in the car all day: DS2 to the doctor's this morning (he has strep), then to the pharmacy for his meds. Then up to Phoenix for my stroboscopy (I need voice therapy), then home -- where I got a message from DS1 that I had forgotten to pack his swimsuit in his bag, so he wasn't able to actually, you know, swim at practice today.

*sigh*

Slogged down to the Y to pick up DS1, back over to the school to get DD from aftercare, left them both at home with M, my most excellent friend and babysitter, who was trying to help DS2 not freak out so much about being sick.

Then drove to pick up DH at his office, then drove up to the Honda Service Center where we picked up the van (new engine mount installed, oil changed, new battery needed but everything else good to go to CA).

Then, finally -- home. (DH took the van over to Sears for the new battery, we still had warranty life left in the old one.)

Fed the kids, made soup, checked homework, wrote up the soup recipe. At that point, I should have collapsed, but I didn't. I did a huge chunk of our Christmas shopping.

This year, I'm either ordering stuff to be shipped directly, or I'm getting gift cards. I like to send things that 1) everyone can use and 2) get eaten, drunk, or otherwise used up. So, Sweet Energy is a really great place to order from; I've been sending gifts from these folks for over 20 years and have never heard a negative comment.

For the kids? Some great games (I love these games!), or some new cuddly friends... or a Border's gift card for the ones who would be insulted by either.

It's a relief to start checking some people off that long, long list I'm keeping.

chowder (not chowdah)

Today was a day that required soup. I rummaged around in the refrigerator and the pantry and came up with this. It's reminiscent of my previous fantastic spinach, but in soup form. I'm calling it a chowder because it has both cheese and cream in it.

It's not "chowdah" because this combination of ingredients is as far from New England as you can imagine while still staying in the continental US [OK, maybe gumbo would be farther, but still.] This is a South West chowder, with nary a clam to be seen, lots of gorgeous color, and flavors that warm you up.


Chicken and Spinach Chowder
6 servings

2 T olive oil
3-4 cloves garlic, minced
1 tsp red pepper flakes
1 tsp dried oregano
1/2 tsp dried thyme leaves
1 tsp ground cumin

1 lb package chopped frozen spinach, thawed
1 can chopped green chilies, drained
6 oz Monterey Jack cheese, roughly chopped
2 cups cooked chicken, cubed or shredded
3 C chicken stock
1 C heavy cream
1 C corn kernels
1 C diced red bell pepper

salt & fresh-ground black pepper to taste

Pour the olive oil into a heavy-bottom pot over medium-low heat. Add the garlic and the other spices. Cook the spice mixture, stirring so it doesn't stick, until the garlic is soft, about 3-5 minutes. If you like a toasted garlic flavor, you can cook it until the garlic turns a dark golden color, but be careful not to burn it or it will be bitter.

Meanwhile, squeeze all the water out of the thawed spinach. (I thaw mine in the microwave on high power for about 3 minutes). Do not skip this step, you really need to get all that excess moisture out of the spinach. Pick up a handful and squeeze, then set the dry spinach aside; repeat until done.

Stir the dry spinach and green chilies into the spice mixture, and let it cook over medium heat for a few minutes to heat up. Then add the chicken and the cheese, stirring as the cheese melts.

When the cheese is all melted, add the chicken stock and the heavy cream; add the corn and the diced red pepper. Stir everything together and let it come to serving temperature, but do not let it boil --keep the heat gentle and you will be OK.

Taste; adjust the seasonings. I used homemade chicken stock that had no salt at all, and so even with the chilies and the cheese, I needed to add just a little salt to brighten it up. I also added about a 1/2 tsp of freshly ground black pepper.

This is one of those dishes where if you have everything on hand, it comes together very quickly. Tonight, with insufficient leftover chicken, I microwaved IQF chicken breasts. Since it's shredded before it goes into the pot, texture isn't an issue (microwaved IQF chicken breasts approach the consistency of rubber.) You can use canned or frozen corn, either will be fine. And you can leave out the sweet red pepper altogether if it's too much of a hassle; you'll still get a great-tasting chowder.

hey, I know that guy!

It's fun to watch old movies and notice actors you didn't know then, but do now.

Like Ted Levine playing the serial killer "Buffalo Bill" back in 1991, in the well-deserved Oscar love-fest The Silence of the Lambs; Ted now plays Capt. Stottlemeyer on USA's Monk, which continues to be a charming and entertaining series in spite of recent cast changes.

And who's that captaining 1997's Titanic? None other than the Lord of the Rings' Theoden himself, Bernard Hill.

Both these guys are fine actors. It's good to see they're still doing well.

I'm an idiot, but forgiveness is possible

I misjudged the turn into my parking space at the physical therapist's this morning, and nudged the pickup truck in the adjacent space. I was only going about 2 mph, so I hoped there wouldn't be any damage. I backed up and turned into the space and hopped out just as the truck's owner was climbing out of the cab.

I am so sorry! were the first words out of my mouth. He was around my age (in that indeterminate age range between 30 and 50) and very pleasant, actually. He could see I was distressed that I had nicked his truck. He said, I barely felt anything, I'm sure it's OK as he went to look at the damage. There were some small scrapes under the bumper.

Let's look at your car,, he said, and then we both saw that there was a quantity of red paint on my front bumper.

I must've said every variation of "I'm so sorry" in existance, and offered to pay for the repairs, but I did ask if we could just keep the insurance companies out of it.

He wouldn't have any of it: Go on in to your appointment, he said. I offered to give him my name and number so he could call me in case he changed his mind. No, no, don't worry about it! Just go, it's fine, he insisted.

Then he got a twinkle in his eye, Although I might take it out on you if I ever meet you in a bar...

I laughed: I never go to bars! He laughed, too. I don't, either. So that's OK, then.

With a bit of elbow grease I'll be able to buff that paint off the front of the van. His truck has a few minor scrapes that in Arizona will never amount to anything. Back in Massachusetts, scratches and whatnot like that would rust out in a few years, so you'd have to be more careful, but out here in the dry, the possibility of rust just doesn't even occur to anyone. All in all, both vehicles are a little big dinged, but it was nothing to get worked up about and it's such a relief that he didn't! My cars have had worse damage inflicted on them in parking lots, with nary a note or apology.

I'll probably never see that man again, but he deserves many blessings for his kindness to me today.

an abundance of optimism

It's a very strange place, full of people who were banged up or sliced up and sewn together. Every single client has pain. To be sure, there are a lot of different kinds of pain, but this is not a place you go to unless you have physical pain or dysfunction.

And yet, this is without doubt one of the most optimistic places you will ever visit, because everyone who comes here is here to get better.

So where is this place? The physical therapist's.

If you have never been to been to PT, it may be hard to imagine. At my therapist's, there are several individual rooms for therapies and manipulations that require privacy. Most clients, though, spend their time in the main room, which has several massage tables lining one wall, and a host of exercise equipment taking up the rest of it. There are free weights and exercise bikes and many things I don't even know how to describe. In the center of the room is an "aisle" -- two railings about 2 feet apart, at waist height, on a slightly raised platform. It looks odd, sitting there in the middle of the room, until you see it in use.

There are probably a dozen therapists working at this facility, and at any particular time, 8 to 10 of them will be working, and each may have 2 or even 3 clients at a time, depending on the client's stage of rehab. Some people don't need much supervision and so can be scheduled at the same time as others; the therapists are very good at managing their time to keep you busy.

So the room can be crowded, but at course people come and go during the course of the day. First thing in the morning things tend to be very hectic, but after that first rush is a nice time to go, since everyone who has to be at work is already there. The tide of people ebbs and flows throughout the day, but the positive vibe is constant.

The clients themselves are an odd bunch, with our only things in common the facts that we are broken and want to fix ourselves. I've seen high school and college students, and just-retired peppy seniors, and one gent who'd I guess has to be at least 90. Generally, we do what we're told, and we try our best, although we may groan a little and tease our therapists that they are slave drivers or worse.

They do make us work, and the work is hard; banter helps. I've watched one woman recovering from encephalitis (I think, some kind of brain infection), and the exercises she has to do to retrain her sense of balance and depth perception are so frustrating to her, but she perseveres.

I used to think PT was a waste of time, but through direct experience I've learned better. Our bodies generally recover well from insult, injury, or illness, but some of these can lead us to bad habits, and when the bad habits perpetuate, we inflict new pains on ourselves. PT is one way to avoid ever getting into those bad habits, and it's the best way to get out of them.

Back in October, the surgeon nagged me to be sure I would get PT. Immediately after my surgery, I could barely turn my head in either direction, and tilting my head back to look up was completely impossible. I've been working diligently on regaining my freedom of movement, and it's almost back to 100%, in all degrees of motion. The nerves controlling my shoulder, arm, wrist, and hand were all affected by the surgery as well, leading to significant weakness and loss of coordination. Now with the rehab exercises, my right side is as strong as my left.

Now, what if I hadn't had PT? Well, my right arm and hand would be pretty much useless -- weakened and getting weaker by the day from disuse. I'd have crashing tension headaches and aching shoulder muscles from having to carry my head "just so" -- I vividly recall those from the early weeks of my recovery, and I worked hard to stretch the neck muscles precisely so I could affect a decent stretch of the shoulders and upper back. Driving would be impossible, since I wouldn't be able to turn my neck. In other words, it would be a disaster.

Did I really need to visit a physical therapist to ensure all these bad things didn't happen? Maybe not, but my therapist knows a lot more about this stuff than I do. I'm not the type to attempt my own auto repairs, and the body is an infinitely more complex machine than a car. Some professional guidance is a really good idea.

Just for comparison's sake, take a look at what happened after my hysterectomy just over 2 years ago. I didn't have any PT afterwards, none was recommended at the time. Recovery was pretty easy, relatively speaking, but I developed some major league bad habits, including letting my ab muscles be lax nearly all the time. Hey, when you've had major dissection in your pelvic area, everything in your gut feels weird and keeping those muscles tight does not feel good.

So: lax abs led to my lower back muscles spasming, triggering recurring problems with my piriformis, the skinny muscle that stretches across the butt. Now, I have fibromyalgia and in my particular case, the fibro causes certain muscles or muscle groups to just get rock hard (at least, that's how it was explained to me -- most people don't have this kind of problem. At least I hope they don't.) So the rock-hard piriformis impinges on the sciatic nerve and gives me the classic symptoms of sciatica, numbness and tingling all the way down the leg. What fun! But to make matters even better, the piriformis' deformation is torquing all the other muscles around the hip/pelvis, and my hip rotates out of alignment. Then all those muscles start freaking out and I end up feeling as if I've crushed my tailbone.

Yes, my own muscles being out of alignment essentially dislocated my tailbone. (More PT helped this condition a lot, but I'm still struggling with it because of the fibro and frankly, not being consistent with my exercises.)

I think all that could have been avoided if I'd had PT, but who knew what domino effect that surgery was going to set in motion? I had no idea.

I really like going to PT, but I'll happy when I "graduate", which may happen this week. I will miss the camaraderie among the clients (not patients, you'll note) -- we're all screwed up somehow or other, but we all want to get better, and we all believe we will get better. And the therapists will help us to do it. It's not a so much question of hope as it is one of faith: maybe I won't be pain-free, but I'll be able to live my life better.

I think you'd be hard pressed to find a church where there was such a uniform adherence to the central doctrine, and such a profound belief in the central mission of the establishment.

what the heck was that?

I've known for a few years now that the parish I first attended when we moved to AZ had gone 'round the bend, but I had no idea how wacky they had become. I'm not sure if this is a creeping insanity or what, but today's "performance" takes the cake.

Because DS2 wasn't feeling well until the late afternoon yesterday, DH went to Mass with DS1, and I stayed home with the peewees. Theoretically that left me with many Mass-going options today, except I had a coffee date at 10AM -- still not that big a hurdle. Then DH got a last-minute invitation to the Cardinals game, and things became much more time constrained.

So I ended up going to St. Andrew the Apostle, a "Catholic Faith Community," whatever that is -- but they're still part of the archdiocese. I was late, so I didn't notice anything particularly more egregious than last time, except that the candles in their advent wreath were blue instead of purple -- cobalt blue, not blue-violet, which qualifies as purple after all. That's weird, I thought, but minor in the grand scheme of things.

I can deal with the choir getting more attention than the altar. I dislike intensely the practice of the priest/celebrant sitting in the congregration, but that's their thing. I really, really hate the large sculpture they have of the Risen Christ behind the altar, instead of a crucifix -- it makes Jesus look as if he has just fallen off the top of a wall. But all that stuff is old hat for this parish, and I expected it.

What floored me today were the dancers. After Communion, a troop of eight young women (mid to late teens, most likely) processed to the altar. Their long hair was unbound, and they were wearing long, sheer, flowing white dresses with scoop necks and long sleeves, cinched at the waist with narrow cords. They looked startling like maidens of Ancient Greece or Rome. They were all very pretty, too, and I was trying to figure out what their purpose was as they arranged themselves artfully in front of the altar. Then some insipid modern church music started up and they performed a ballet routine consisting mainly of waving arms and twirling.

All I could think was: What the heck is this?

I gave up and left after about a minute, when it was obvious it wasn't going to end anytime soon. I'm sure the congregration applauded, anyway, which is another thing that sets my teeth on edge, so it's just as well I wasn't there.

I suppose (I'm trying to be charitable here) that a beautiful dance can inspire us as much as beautiful music can. I know people who are irked by the persistance of music during and after Communion, because that is the time when we are supposed to be focussing our energy on the sacrament. I like the music because it helps me to focus, even though I can recognize that some people can find it a distraction.

I'm still finding it hard to believe that anyone would find such a dance performance anything but a distraction. The purpose of the Mass is not to entertain the congregation, but I get the distinct impression that the folks who are running the show at St. Andrew disagree with that sentiment.

Maybe it's OK -- maybe there's a book of rules that says you can add inspirational performances to a Mass after Communion. But while I don't know whether or not any rules were broken, I do know that it was a Bad Idea. I'm pretty sure that if DH had been there, he would've had a hard time not laughing. It was just so incongruous!

Reflecting on this incident, I'm trying to discern whether or not I'm hidebound and intolerant or whether the dance really was just silly. I keep coming to the same conclusion: the dance was silly, and an unnecessary distraction at a point in the ritual that should be used for private prayer and contemplation. If thinking that way makes me a fuddy-duddy, I can live with it.

mouthful of salt

My parotid salivary glands are acting up something fierce lately. My face is mildly mumped, not so that anyone else can tell that they're swollen, but I can see it. They don't feel very good, either, so massage, while beneficial, isn't at the top of my list at the moment.

The worst thing is that I keep getting streams of salt water instead of normal saliva. I'm chewing a lot of gum but you know, salty wintergreen or salty peppermint just aren't doing it for me. I use my Biotene stuff religiously, too.

I wish I knew what triggered this behavior, so I could avoid it or at least expect it. I also wish I knew how long it's going to last. It has been going on for about a week now, and it's affecting my eating and desire to cook, too. When everything tastes salty, your whole relationship with food gets distorted. And this is probably the single worst time of the year to not be able to taste properly!

turned the corner

I believe that DS2 is finally now officially over the active phase of his illness. His fever quit on Tuesday, but up until this afternoon, he still had a look about him that showed he wasn't really well. His eyes looked sick. Yesterday he fell asleep on the way home from Borders (about 5PM) and slept until 8PM, when he ate a grilled cheese sandwich, put on his pjs, and went to bed. I'd say it was the extra sleep that got him over the hump, but he was lethargic, miserable, and over-sensitive all morning, and the sick eyes persisted.

DH gave him some ibuprofen in the early afternoon, and by 4PM DS2 was running around like his little normal self -- his eyes finally lost their "sick" look, and his whole vibe was different. He still looked and acted fine when the medicine wore off, so I'm praying that he wakes up tomorrow in the same improved condition.

ok, now I remember

... why I don't use mailmerge to print out our envelopes every year at Christmas.

I've spent the past 3 hours entering our mailing list in Word, tracking down addresses, setting up the envelope template -- and trying to print out our 48 envelopes. I'd say the database part took about an hour, and that's only because I was on the phone with my mom for a while.

The printer is just not behaving. We have an ancient HP Laserjet 4L. The thing is a tank. We've had it just shy of 11 years now, and it's going strong. It's really a great little printer, except it has always been terrible at printing anything that needs to be fed, one sheet at a time. I don't know what's up with it, but after printing one, two, or sometimes 4 envelopes, it just spazzes and says there's a paper jam, when of course there isn't.

The worst thing is trying to convince the damn printer that it's OK to keep going. I have to open and close it several times to convince it that there really is no paper jam, all the while praying that it will draw in the next envelope from the manual feed slot. (For the record, this is not a new problem, this printer has always been horrible at this particular task -- I think I was just repressing the memories of trying to do our wedding and baby announcement envelopes on this thing.)

Fortunately we have a lot of extra envelopes, too, because sometimes when it's being picky it lays down the toner on the envelope but doesn't set it, and that envelope's just a goner...

The other printer in the house is an all-in-one HP OfficeJet, and I did a few on that but they look all smeared even after I cleaned the print heads.

At this point, I'm thinking it would've just been easier to write them all out longhand. I would be done by now. (grrrr)

Update (aka, reminders for next time I need to do something like this): Finally finished.

Here's the trick: Print only one envelope at a time. This is easy using Word's current mail merge facility that lets you preview each envelope, and allows you to print the current record. At the printer: feed the envelope with the back of the printer closed, then press OK on the Print dialog to start printing. Once the printer has drawn the envelope in, it's OK to open the back. Wait until the envelope comes out and then close the back -- this is very important because if you leave the back open (so the envelopes can go straight through and not get all curly), the printer goes into "paper failure" mode for some reason or other. Wait until the printer light shows "Ready" again, then cue up another envelope. In Word, go back to the "preview envelopes" screen and advance to the next record. Then use "complete merge", "print", "current record", "OK". Repeat until done -- tedious, but saves my arthritic hands from being crippled for a week.

Since the printer is on the opposite side of the room from the computer with Word on it, I've been hopping back and forth all afternoon. But as long as I remember to close the back of the printer, it works fine. This is obviously more of a pain than just being able to continuously feed the envelopes, but it is still a lot less work than writing them out longhand.

bed time stories

(Another post in the "it's about time" category)

Several months ago, I went on a little Amy Wellborn shopping spree, buying books for myself and the family. For myself, I splurged and got her devotional, A Catholic Woman's Book of Days. I do not read it as regularly as I would like to, but whenever I do read it, I am always happy that I did. These brief meditations are ideal in that they make you think, and lead to contemplation and prayer, but they don't require a Herculean effort. Reading this book is like having spiritual dessert. (This is one of those things I will never understand about myself -- you'd think with so much positive reinforcement, I'd get into a good habit, right? Somehow, it hasn't happened yet.)

But the subject here isn't the Book of Days, it's the Loyola Kids' Book of Saints, and the companion volume, the Loyola Kids' Book of Heroes.

Like all of Amy's writing, these books are written in a direct, conversational tone that is friendly but never patronizing. Each saint's story is just a few pages, making them the perfect length for a bed time story. We have a routine of reading a story each night before we say our family prayers together and tuck the kids into bed. All three children listen to the stories intently, because each is about a real person who really did these amazing things. Some of the stories are very sad, some are exciting; all are tailored to the audience, but nothing is white-washed. Amy's not afraid to talk about suffering, something most saints are intimately aquainted with, and something most kids these days have no concept of.

I admit, we often don't get to read a story because bed time is running late, and we go directly to the prayers. But the children will ask if they can "have a saint story," and when each story is over, they always ask who the next saint will be. When we first started reading these stories, the kids were unsure as to what exactly was going on. Like all kids, they are suspicious that we are going to make them work when they really don't want to, and these "saint stories" sounded suspiciously close to "church" to them. But now that they've actually heard some of the stories (a lot of the stories!), they look forward to hearing more.

One of the nicest features of these little stories is the questions that Amy asks. After one or two stories, the kids are accustomed to this now, and they understand that there will be questions and things to talk about when the story is over. One of the best nights we had was when we read about St. Hildegard von Bingen, and I was able to find a recording of some of her music in my vast CD collection.

Since the saint stories are grouped thematically rather than by time or place, we're getting quite a good overview of history and geography as we read the stories straight through. I think perhaps the best thing of all is that both DH and I are learning about some of these people for the first time, ourselves.

I heard DH telling DS1 and DD this evening how important it is for them to know about the saints. I didn't catch his entire argument, but the part I did hear centered on their need to choose a patron saint for their Confirmation names. Since our parish now practices the Restored Order of the Sacraments (pdf), DD will be confirmed in 3rd grade, and DS1 will most likely be confirmed at the same time, when he is in 5th. (DS1 was in the final year of 2nd graders to make their First Communions separately from their Confirmations.) DH spent weeks reading through the lives of the saints before deciding on his Confirmation name. It was made more difficult for him, of course, because he was coming to the task completely "cold," with very little prior knowledge of any saints. Our kids should have it a lot easier when it's their turn.

But there's an even better reason to know about the lives of the saints, I think. These people are our brothers and sisters in the Church, and hearing these ancient (and some not-so-ancient) stories is just as important as hearing stories about parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles when they were growing up. In the same way that our personal stories foster that sense of belonging and connection within the family, saint stories encourage that feeling of belonging in the Church.

I know a lot of people have problems with Catholics "praying to" the saints; they think that we're worshipping people who've died. That's not it at all, but I'm not sure how well I can explain this. When we pray to a saint, we are talking to them and asking them for intercession with God -- we are asking them to pray for us. Think of the last line of the Hail Mary: Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners... That's it in a nutshell. The only "power" a saint has is to intercede for us, to put in a good word for us with the Big Guy, so to speak. We always think of asking for intercession along the same lines as asking for help or advice from a living person you respect, trust, and admire. Sometimes the kind of help you need is better provided by a saint than by, say, a mom, especially as we get older.

So by introducing all of these wonderous people to our children, we're giving them a lifelong resource. Of course they don't realize it now, and if they're anything like me, they'll settle on just a few saints they regularly ask for prayers from. It's difficult to understand how vast the Communion of Saints really is, but when you think about it, it's pretty awesome. Thousands of people spanning the centuries, and all of them standing behind us, ready to help.

I hope that by introducing our kids to this idea fairly early in their lives they can avoid some of the alienation and isolation that naturally accompanies growing up. We're part of something much bigger than our own family, and you're only ever alone if you choose to be.

My kids are almost-9, 7, and almost-5, but very articulate and with excellent vocabularies, and they have no problems understanding these stories. Amy says these books are written for middle school children, and that sounds about right to me. You can buy these titles at Amazon, but it's better for Amy if you order directly from her; I encourage you to do so, here.

calling

DH ended up getting a late afternoon appointment with the periodontist, who scraped out all the infection and gave him prescriptions for anti-biotics and serious pain killers. The good news is, even though he has significant bone loss and it might not grow back, there are a number of methods the periodontist can use to save the tooth. Of course the periodontist and all the procedures done in his office are not on our discount plan, but hey -- at least the infection is gone now, and DH will be all right.

That's all to the good, but today was Thursday -- soccer practice day! DH came home from work to get his roster when I pointedly said to him, Let me know if there's anything I can do for you.

It took a minute for that to sink in, I think, but then he said, Well, actually...

And that's how I ended calling the entire team and explaining that practice was cancelled for today, but that the game was still on for Saturday. Twelve players, and I reached nine parents directly. I hope those other three got their voicemail messages!

It has been quite a while since I had to call a whole list, and as these things go, this list was short. In retrospect my summer job as telephone survey taker back in my college years has provided me with a very useful (marketable?) skill: I don't have an iota of phone phobia, and I can make a cold call as comfortably as I can call a friend.I know to think about what I'm going to say before I even pick up the phone, so I have my introduction in order, along with the key information I need to convey.

I know many people would rather have their eyes poked out than make phone calls, so I guess I'm weird. It was fun.

reminder

Don't sit in the very first row of pews at Holy Day masses, at least not the evening one.

I have nothing against incense. In fact, I like it, but when you're in the first (or second, for that matter) pew, you get enveloped in it. Then when you try to sing, you get a faceful of smoke, and you end up coughing instead.

I'll have to remember that there's a good reason to stick with our usual seats, five or six rows back.

good news, bad news

On the good news side, the dryer has only shut off a few times this morning, and it's still doing a nice job on actually drying the clothes, so maybe we can hold off on the new dryer purchase for a while.

In other good news, I picked up my digital camera today, and the repair shop replaced the broken switch at no charge. I'd link, but they don't have a website: Arizona Camera Works, on Arizona Ave. They definitely didn't have to do that, since the warranty is only 6 months, and it was more than 6 months ago by far that I had the work done. They didn't even charge me for the labor, even though I asked if I could, at least twice. So even though I needed to get the camera fixed again, I still highly recommend these guys -- it's not their fault that the replacement switch died, which is what caused the problem this time around.

On the bad news side of things, it looks like DH is in for some serious dental work, as he is in danger of losing one of his front teeth.(!!!) Poor guy has been through some major mouth-work over the past few years, including surgery and orthodontia (Invisalign, they totally rock, and I wish I had had them when I had my braces when DD was a baby). One of his front teeth has been loose for a while, but the orthodontist assured him it would settle in eventually. Today at his teeth cleaning it was seen to be infected, and there is bone loss along with major gum problems (6 mm pockets). Yikes! He sounded so distressed. He has been working so hard to keep his own teeth, I know he will be really upset if he has to get -- what? They can't do a crown or an implant, I'm guessing, so it would be a bridge? I don't know.

Of course, whatever it is will cost us an arm and a leg, since we don't exactly have dental insurance -- Delta Dental doesn't offer it to individuals, and the BC/BS dental plan costs more than it's worth. We do have a "discount dental plan," so maybe it won't be so bad. But the main thing is getting that infection cleared up, and making sure DH will be OK. Of course this is something that will cause him to miss more work.

Nothing to do now but wait and see what happens. And pray.

what next?

The dryer is acting up, I'm staring at a huge medical bill, and I'm smack in the middle of two rather pricey processes: Christmas shopping and physical therapy.

So why is it that the CD player in the van chooses now to start acting up? You know it's not good when 1) it makes a crunchy noise when you switch from radio to CD and 2) it repeatedly flashes "CD EJECT" but nothing happens when you press the EJECT button.

More investigation is in order, of course. I have no idea whether or not it's under warranty; I'm going to have to root around in my files and find the receipt and paperwork that came with the unit. It's about 2 and a half years old, and it's not like it's abused or anything -- although sitting in a car in Phoenix in a garage that easily averages over 120 degrees during the day in the summer probably qualifies as abuse.

If I had known it wasn't even going to last 3 years, I would've bought a cheaper model...

I so do not want to deal with this -- but I also don't want to drive to CA with no tunes, so I guess I'm going to have to. *sigh*

fast food foray

Tomorrow is the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, and hence a holy day of obligation. It's also Thursday, which is swim practice (DS1), dance class (DD), and soccer practice (DH and DS2) day. So we went to Mass this evening, and afterwards, we stopped in at the new Carl's jr in the neighborhood for a quick supper.

The burgers were definitely superior to either McD's or BK's, but not quite as good as In'n'Out's. The kid's meal burgers are the biggest I've ever seen included in a child's meal; we could easily order one meal and split it between DD and DS2, and they would both have plenty to eat. Even DS1, who generally adores cheeseburgers and was starving when we hit the place, couldn't finish it. Best of all, this mondo-kid's burger plus fries and drink comes in at the very reasonable price of $2.50. (Yes, there was a toy: Linus sprawled on top of a giant snowball-top, their tie-in is A Charlie Brown Christmas. It could be a lot worse.)

DH and I both had one of their "Six Dollar Burgers." First off, I am compelled to point out that the so-called "Six Dollar" burger did, in fact, cost $6.50. I know, it's only 50 cents more, but if you're going to call it "the six dollar burger," then I think it should cost, you know, six dollars.

On to the burger itself: I got the avocado bacon cheeseburger thing. It was way too big to eat neatly. I ended up nibbling around the edges to get the sandwich innards to match the dimensions of the bun, and then I had a better shot of eating it without it all sliding out the back whenever I took a bite.

It was tasty. The avocado is mixed with something spicy (chipotle?) that gave it a nice kick.

The fries were a little dry but edible -- not greasy, and not made of some horrifically inappropriate potato like the ones at In'n'Out.

Generally I don't care for fast food but I recognize its utility, especially when I have hungry and cranky children to feed. Carl's jr is going on the list as a more-than-acceptable alternative to the usual.

can't staunch the bleeding

We're continuing to hemorrhage cash these days. In addition to all the recent air fare/hotel/ground transportation/meals expenses from my week-long stay in Houston, the bill for my medical care at MDA finally arrived: $1700.25. That "$0.25" really cracks me up. Couldn't they just round it off to make things nice and even? No, I guess not.

So, we've got that large bill to deal with, plus Christmas shopping, which is being judiciously timed to coordinate with various credit cards' statement closing dates. You know, if I wait until next Wednesday, the charges won't show up until January's statement, and we won't have to pay for them until February.

The latest assault on our fiscal fortress: for the past couple of weeks I've been struggling more than is usual with the laundry, because our dryer, while it still mostly works, stops and starts seemingly at random. I finally sat down to investigate how much it would cost to repair it, and the news is not good, or good, depending on how you look at it -- but in any event, the news is expensive.

We have an electric dryer that stops running, although sometimes it stops as soon as I release the start button. It could be either the drive motor or the even heat control element; minimum cost for the replacement part: $131.24.

Am I going to do this diagnosis and repair myself? No way -- I'm moderately handy with a screwdriver, but I'm not into disassembling a dryer. So I check out the Sears product support site and learn that the minimum for a service call is $65, which is a good deal -- but I know that diagnosing the problem and putting in the replacement part(s) is going to cost a lot more than $65.

So, at this point, we're looking at at least $250, probably closer to $300 to fix a dryer that's 9 years old, without having a good sense of how long the repairs will last, or without having any sense at all of what else is just biding its time, waiting to break.

I ran all these numbers by DH, and he agrees: we should look for a new dryer. But we'll probably wait until after Christmas, unless we can get some smokin' no-finance-charge deal with payment deferred for eternity or something. I reassured him that we don't need a new washer right now, because we don't -- but I'm wondering how long that baby's going to last, too.

moneymoneymoneyMONEYmoneymoneymoneyMONEY...

and now it's eight

Today when I was driving to physical therapy, I saw my hands on the steering wheel at 11 and 1, just as my father used to drive. I don't know why they were so far up on the wheel -- I don't usually drive that way. But seeing my own hands up there made me remember my Dad's, and just that reminded me what day it is today.

For all Americans, today is the anniversary of the bombing of Pearl Harbor. For my family, today is the eighth anniversary of my father's death. I wrote about it last year, and everything I said then still applies.

Nothing lasts forever.

Thanks, Dad.

the sick house

I have a sense of impending doom. Last night at the dinner table, I was literally surrounded by coughing. It's more than enough to make me want to move out for a few days, just until they're all over the worst of it... but of course I could never, since they need me to take care of them.

There has been an interesting progression of illness through the family. DD came down with a cold first, and complained of a sore throat. Mostly, she had a post nasal drip and the occasional sniffle, and she coughed a little. She never ran a fever at all, although she was dragging for a couple of days. She's completely fine now.

Next to come down with it was DS1, and he missed school on Friday, and ran a slight fever that day and the next. By Sunday, he was much improved and he has been back to school all week. He still has a drippy nose and a cough, but he's in good spirits. His appetite is about half normal, though, and he has very little emotional resiliance, so I know he's still recovering. But at least he can go to school.

Then DS2 and DH came down with it at about the same time. For the first couple of days, DS2 was just kind of sniffly, but for the past 2 days he has been running a fever (ibuprofen controls it handily). His appetite, amazingly enough, is terrific -- if anything, he's eating more than usual, which is weird. When his fever spikes he is miserable, but on meds, he's OK. He slept a good part of today, which I hope means that the fever will break soon and he'll be good to go. He's not complaining of sore throat or ear aches, and his chest sounds clear, so I'm expecting this to clear up on its own. I'm giving him until Friday for the fever to break, and if he is still running hot by then, I'll take him to the doctor. If he weren't eating so well I'd be more concerned, but as it is, I'm willing to ride it out a few more days.

The hardest hit so far has been DH. He felt a cold coming on and it immediately went down into his lungs. The past 3 days he has been running a fever that's around 102, but the ibuprofen is taking the edge off. He went yesterday to the doctor and is on antibiotics, here's hoping they'll kick in and he can get back to work. This is not the best time of the year for him to be not-working, and consequently not getting paid, but he has been much too sick to go in.

As for me: I'm just waiting for it to hit. I'm having trouble feeling cold all the time, but I think my thyroid meds need adjusting. I also have trouble swallowing occasionally, and that may be related to a post-nasal drip, but other than that, I don't feel any different from normal. I have the usual assortment of aches and creaks and what-not, and my salivary glands and tear ducts have been acting up recently, but those are not symptoms of illness, as far as I can tell.

Is it inevitable that I will get some form of this junk? I hope not. It's bad enough with DH and the kid(s) being sick, someone is always tied down to the house. Yesterday I did a million errands while DH stayed home with DS2, but today DH stayed in bed most of the day, poor guy, and I stayed home with the little one, only leaving to take the older kids to and from school.

I made a huge vat of chicken stock today, and will put together soup with it tomorrow. We could all use a magic bullet here, and maybe some good soup will be it.

travel advisory

This is dried apricot paste. It's kind of like fruit leather, only a little more sticky. It has an intense apricot flavor, and it makes a great (if sticky) snack. I've loved this stuff since I was a kid, and had completely forgotten it existed until this summer, when my sister-in-law brought some to my Mom's house. When I told her how much I loved it, she bought me a few packages to bring home.

Apparently, the TSA employees at the airport don't see a lot of dried apricot paste. If you're going to travel with this stuff, here is my advice:

1) Do not pack it at the very bottom of a suitcase which is then over-filled with clothes.

2) Do not tell the TSA guy that you hope your bag doesn't explode when he unzips it. (I meant that the clothes would all fall out! Really, that's all I meant!)

3) Do not babble on at length about getting this stuff in Middle Eastern markets.

I speculate: do dense materials like apricot paste resemble plastic explosives? I have no idea. It was "interesting" enough to them to make them unpack my entire bag to get to it.

Thankfully the TSA guys did not take me seriously as a terrorist threat. I'm sure that's because I was standing there with my three kids around me while they went through my bag. I'm also sure that my incoherent babbling didn't help, but under the circumstances it didn't hurt, either.

When they finally got to the apricot paste, they ran it through the little machine that tests for dangerous chemical signatures,and of course it passed with no difficulty -- so they were then left with the Herculean task of shoving everything back into the suitcase. I really felt sorry for them, but they were good-natured about it. It's their job, after all.

Now I know better than to overstuff a suitcase. It was never a great idea, but nowadays it's even less of one. Remember, random bags are pulled out for searches, and if you have too much stuff in your bag, who knows what's going to happen to it. It's only stuff, right? You can always get a bigger bag, another bag, or ship it, if you have to.

missing

I still can't find the diamond stud earrings I wore to Houston but didn't wear back. I have no idea where I put them to bring them home. None whatsoever. My mind is a blank where packing up to come home is concerned. I have a good excuse, really -- I had just had major surgery and I was on some serious pain-killers, and those do things to your brain functions. Obviously, memory is one of them.

I feel terrible about this loss. I'm not the type of person who loses things, or even misplaces things. I'm the type of person who has a place for everything and puts everything away, because I'm easily overwhelmed by piles of clutter, and I don't want to waste my time looking for things. So I always put my keys in the same pocket of my purse, and I always put my purse on the hook in the hallway. It saves me an inordinate amount of time, not having to hunt around looking for things -- I'm teaching the kids the value of having a system like this for everything, basically.

So: normally if I weren't wearing the earrings, they'd be in my little travel jewelry case. They're not there, in fact I don't even remember if I took the case with me to Houston. How bad is that? I do recall that I had to take the earrings off at one point, and I stuck them in the change purse section of my wallet. I don't remember taking them out, but I do remember thinking I didn't want to keep them there, since the snap pops open frequently and I didn't want to lose them.

I really loved those earrings. They were very simple, but they were my present from DH and I wore them nearly every day. They were just perfect, and now they're gone. I have looked through every bag and suitcase that travelled with us, and I still have no idea where I put them to bring them home. It's possible they were in my wallet and fell out, but then I'd expect them to be in my purse, and they're not, I've checked there at least 3 times. They could've been tucked inside another bag or box, and been thrown away by accident, but I don't think I would've done anything daft like wrapped them in a tissue or something -- would I? Who knows what I was thinking! I've tried everything I can think of to jog my memory and nothing, absolutely nothing, is working. When I spoke to my Mom today I even asked her if she had seen them in a pocket when she was doing the laundry (she always checks the pockets, she's much better about that than I am), but she hadn't.

I hate this, I'm betrayed by my own stupid brain! This must be what having a disease like Alzheimer's is like, only much worse because it happens with all sorts of things. DH tells me not to be upset about it, but I am. He has already offered to buy me new earrings, but I'm clinging to the hope that the old ones will turn up somewhere. He's such a dear, in a way it just makes me feel worse. I know I shouldn't blame myself but how can I not? DH would say, be glad it wasn't anything important. I know they weren't important, but they were special, and I want them back.

Mom says to keep looking, you never know when they'll turn up. She has some great stories about things apparently phasing out of and back into this dimension, like the set of sterling silver that wasn't in the closet -- we all looked for it, it definitely wasn't there, until one day, it was. We still have no idea how that happened, but I know that it did. As irrational as it sounds, I still have some hope.

captive weekend

I had a million things to get done this weekend, and feel like I didn't do any of them. It's not as if I didn't do anything at all, I just didn't do any of the things on my mental list, because I was tied to the house.

DS1 staggered into our room early Friday morning (around 6AM) bleating, "I can't sleep!" When asked how long he'd been awake, he said, "1 o'clock, 2 o'clock, 3 o'clock..." The poor kid was a mess. He was wiped out after swim practice on Thursday, but bounced back after eating dinner, so I thought he would be OK. He wasn't, and was down with a mild virus/fever Friday and Saturday. Today, no fever all day, but still not much appetite. I'm hopeful he can go to school tomorrow; I heard him singing at one point today, and you know, sick kids don't sing.

So, I had planned to do all those million things on Friday, but didn't get to. After my p/t, I just hung out with the two boys, doing not much of anything, including housework. It's bad, really, because the place needs a good cleaning but I just didn't feel like doing it, so I didn't. I'm weird that way, I need "space" to clean -- I don't want to feel like I have to keep an eye on someone at the same time, I just want do my thing and get it done. When DS2 is the only one home I can clean just fine, but the two boys often get on each other nerves and I do need to mediate between them... so I felt constrained, I'm sure more than I needed to, but still.

Friday night I did go and get my hair cut, and it's nice. Still long but not too long, with layers that frame my face, and he thinned it out beautifully. It's nice to have hair that doesn't look ratty anymore! No photos right now, I look like death warmed over. Maybe I will later in the week if I start looking less like a zombie. I'm beginning to think my med levels are too low, I have this lingering fatigue that just isn't letting up, even when I get enough sleep. I'm not used to it anymore! I hate this feeling of having to struggle to get things done.

Saturday, I made the magic chicken, started putting together the date breads, then tried to do some errands and failed (Trader Joe's is out of almond meal, and I'm getting conflicting information as to when it will be available again), and went to Mass. Other than that, a lot of hanging around, helping a bit with the tree, but nothing much else.

Today, I ground my own almonds to finish the date breads, did laundry, backed up my blog, made ribs for dinner. The day was mostly good, being marred only by my splashing myself head-to-foot with the greasy water from the pan I steamed the ribs in, when I was putting the leftovers away. I had a big chunk of rib on a fork, and it slipped off, PLOP! right back in the cooking liquid, which landed all over me and the kitchen floor and the stove. What a mess! Since I was wearing a new-ish long-sleeved t-shirt and new jeans, I got everything into the laundry quickly, pre-treating it all with liquid Tide. Newsflash: liquid Tide does not get out grease stains. At all. So now I've treated all the stains again with Shout! and I'll run them through the wash again tomorrow and pray.

I'm also praying that DS1 will be well enough for school, and DS2, too. He started coughing this afternoon a little, and has been very grumpy. I need some time at home with the kids gone! Plus I still have those million errands to do, and I have physical therapy in the morning on top of it all.

DS1 coming down with this illness immediately set me to worrying about someone being sick over Christmas and screwing up our vacation plans. I'm not sure how that works, if we can switch the dates to another time or what... but you know what? I'm just going to have faith that all will be well. We have a few weeks to go, we'll get all the illnesses out of the way now, and everyone will be fine. DD had a sore throat and sniffles last week, too, but is already on the upswing, much better this weekend. Unfortunately DH feels as if he is coming down with something, so he dosed himself with Nyquil before bed tonight. He does tend to get something nasty once a year from the kids, poor guy. Me, on the other hand, I tend not to. I don't get garden variety crap like this, I reserve my sick days for the big stuff like cancer and other things requiring, you know, surgery. Seriously -- this is not me being the "I can't get sick, I'm too busy to get sick" Mom. I very rarely get colds and can't remember the last time I ran a fever, and if I do get sick, I get over it very quickly, usually.

I'm grateful that DS1 is already feeling better, and had a very mild illness. I will say my prayers that everyone gets and stays healthy, because this being tied down to the house business is making me crazy.

delayed gratification

Last night I caught In Good Company on one of the movie channels. When it first came out, it got great reviews, and it sounded like a movie that would be fun. But it also sounded like a movie that would make a successful transition to the small screen, and I knew it would hit one of the movie channels eventually. I made the small gamble that it would come to either HBO or Starz, and luckily, it did. I'm happy to say that it worked just fine on the small screen.

There are a lot of things to like about In Good Company. For one, it shows a functional family, albeit one dealing with the combined stresses of sending one daughter off to an expensive college while mom is in the throes of a late pregnancy. In the meantime, of course, the dad is dealing with re-organization after re-organization at his office, where he has worked for more than 20 years. The cast is tremendously appealing, attractive in a real world way, without being too pretty or plastic. Even Scarlet Johannson, who plays the college-bound daughter and can be drop-dead gorgeous, seems refreshingly normal here. But best of all are Dennis Quaid as Dan, and Topher Grace as his new 26-year-old boss.

For the first time in a long time, I can say I watched a movie without being embarrassed for the characters. That's saying a lot, especially considering how Quaid's character surprises everyone who is waiting to yell "Surprise!" to him on his birthday.

But the biggest surprise was the watershed moment for Dan at the office, when Teddy K, played by Malcolm McDowell, is giving this rah-rah speech about synergy. It's all this B-school jargon laced with flowery promises, basically a bunch of hot air. And Dan, the old dinosaur that he is, actually laughs at one point and says, "I don't get it." And then he goes on to question the whole point of Teddy K's speech. While Teddy K. was speaking, the director focussed primarily on reaction shots among the staff, and everyone had this bright, glazed look of admiration in their eyes. Then when Dan starts talking, again they pan the crowd, and the reaction shots are just brilliant: first shock that anyone would contradict the great Teddy K, then some wincing as people think that Dan must be soooo stupid not to 'get' what Teddy's saying, and then the dawning realization that what Dan is saying makes a whole lot more sense than what Teddy was spouting.

Of course, Teddy K. handles Dan by saying, "These are excellent questions. I'm leaving it up to all of you to answer them," and he walks out -- totally ducking the question!

I loved this scene because it reminded me of my own little "Dan" moment, seven-and-a-half years ago, when I was still working for Oracle. The uppity-ups called for a big off-site meeting, and since I was on the East Coast, I drove up from my Mom's for the day to attend: in other words, I interrupted my vacation for it. We sat around all day through presentation after presentation, all of it clearly geared for the sales force. There were literally hundreds of engineers there, since they had brought in the folks from the New Hampshire data center as well, and we were all bored out of our skulls. So during the Q&A I got up asked "Why are we here?"

Stunned blinks from the VP of whatever who was speaking, "I'm sorry, what do you mean?"

Me: "Well, this is all very nice but it doesn't have anything at all to do with development or support or engineering, and yet you specifically required all of us to be here. Can you tell me why?"

Lots of sputtering. It didn't help the guy that I was about 6 months pregnant at the time, and the total female population of the room was well under 25%. So he couldn't be too harsh on me, because, you know, yelling at the pregnant female engineer would just make him come off as a bully. His reply was basically the same as Teddy K.'s: Good questions; I'm leaving it up to you to answer them. In other words, he had been caught with his pants down, and was too busy pulling them up to come up with anything more coherent.

My boss was pissed at me later for creating a scene, but all the cog-in-the-wheel engineers were wearing huge grins. It was the highlight of the day. And best of all, after that, they didn't drag us all out to stupid all-day off-site meetings.

I hadn't thought about that incident in years, but watching Dan take down Teddy K. was a really fun reminder. It was fun on its own, too, watching the real-world guy take down the high-talking windbag. But the film as a whole has a little too much "old ways are best" miasma hanging over it, and it also wants to ignore some realities of business as well. What works is keeping a clear eye on what your business is, doing your job and making sure your people can do theirs. Not every new idea sucks, and not every old way of doing business is best, either. You have to be willing to try new things while hanging onto the core. It's hard, which is why a lot of businesses flounder after they've achieved initial success. So In Good Company may not be the best place to be looking for business advice, but it is a great example of family.

I'm glad I finally got to see it.

comfort food

I made what my friend Tia calls "magic chicken" for supper today; she was introduced to the recipe by her friend Amylee when she was very sick and couldn't eat anything. The magic chicken got her back on her feet in no time, she swears. When she first wrote about it I was intrigued, but it was still about 100 degrees here, so I tucked it away in my memory.

DH has been encouraging me to do more with the crockpot, especially with chicken. I admit I have been hesitant, since chicken done in the crockpot is, to me, usually over-done. But since the weather has finally cooled off and I didn't feel like doing anything labor intensive for dinner, I bought some drumsticks just to make this chicken. I went with the drumsticks because dark meat stands up to the crockpot better than the white meat does, and because they have 1) bones and 2) less connective tissue and other "junk" in them than do the boneless thighs.

It's not so much a recipe as a method, but here goes:

Magic Chicken

about 3 lbs chicken, bone-in, skin on, cut up
1/4 - 1/2 C soy sauce
1/4 - 1/2 C apple cider vinegar
2 T - 1/4 C honey
2 tsp - 2 T garlic, minced
2 tsp - 2 T fresh ginger

Put the chicken in your crockpot. If you like a lot of broth to get something like soup, use the larger amounts. If you want a smaller amount of liquid to thicken up as a gravy, use the smaller amounts. Either way, it will be delicious. Combine the other ingredients and pour over the chicken. Cover and cook on low until the meat falls off the bone -- 4 to 6 hours. I encourage you not to leave this all day, because then the meat becomes very dry, and I dislike the texture it takes on.

I recommend serving this with rice or something else you can use to sop up all the good broth. We had it with rice and peas, and I stripped the meat of the bones and stirred it all together with lots of broth for instant soup. This is the kind of food that's hard to stop eating.

Note, though, that the kids thought it tasted vaguely like Chinese food, but still "weird," so if you have finicky children you might not want to spring this on them. You can play with the ratios of soy sauce/cider vineger/honey, too. I use more honey than Tia does because I'm trying to get the kids to eat it, and I wanted to balance the salty and sour flavors of the soy and vinegar. But Tia loves hers with just a trickle of honey, so feel free to tweak the amounts.

One last thing to note -- don't skim off the fat, especially if you're making this because you're under the weather. The chicken fat has wonderful healing properties of its own you don't want to be tossing out!

tree'd

For the second year in a row, DH put up the Christmas tree. DD was much more involved this year, but still DH did most of it.

It's weird, suddenly having a tree without having to go through the whole process of assembling it, wrapping the lights on, then doing the garlands and the ornaments and all that jazz.

But it's very nice.


DD asked about taking a picture. I told her that the tree always looks the same from year to year , so there really isn't much point. That sounds so Grinchy! But it's true! (See for yourself: 2004)

But even though it's true, I'm happy to take the picture. (And looking at last year's picture, I'm struck by how ugly our old curtains were. What were we thinking?)

post-op progress report

It has been six weeks since my surgery, so it's time for another update.

All the on-site help left at the end of my 3rd week post-op, so I've been flying solo (not really, it just seems that way when DH is at work) since then and doing generally OK. I haven't had, or needed, a melt-down yet. That's a relief. Sometimes when you haven't had to do something for a while and then it gets dumped back in your lap, it can seem harder than it really is. So far so good on the coping front.

My head and neck mobility are excellent, and Elf is very pleased with my progress. I still have slight right-sided weakness in the arm and shoulder that we're working on -- I'm in physical therapy 3x/week, and boy does that take a chunk out of my errand-running time. I was diligent about doing my p/t exercises at home for about the first month, but I have really slacked off in the past week or so. I'm either going to p/t or taking a yoga class every day, it seems, so is it really so important? Yes, I know it is, but I've been doing so much running around that I haven't been making it a priority. I'll ask Elf about it tomorrow, because I don't want to screw myself up by not doing them when I've made so much progress already.

I still have the numbness and very tight feeling in the right side of my neck and affecting my right ear, too. (Unexpected, related downer: I can't find my diamond stud earrings, last seen in Houston! I didn't wear them home because my ear felt too weird for studs, and I don't know where I put them to bring them home... I'm very upset with myself for losing them, but I'm still hoping they will turn up somewhere.) Elf has been working at massage to loosen things up in there, and it is helping; I'm having more and more electric-shock and tiny ice-pick feelings along the jawline and down the neck, lately. While annoying, these feelings are to the good, because it means that sensations are returning. I'm hopeful that eventually everything will be normal again.

Both Elf and my ENT commented that my scar is looking excellent and has good mobility. It twinges me from time to time, and I have been massaging it every day with Aquaphore (recommended by my dermatologist for all my other biopsies and scars, so why not this one, I figured.) Here's the scary picture with the steri-strips and the drain; here's the scar at 3 weeks out. Which brings us to today. Sorry these photos are a little blurry, my camera batteries were dying, so I took these shots quickly -- and poorly, it seems, but good enough to see the improvement, I think!




Because these photos are crummy, I didn't bother cropping them down, so consequently you can see a lot more neck than in the other photos. One thing that really leaps out at me is how much swelling I had in my neck, which has completely disappeared. The other obvious thing is that the depression in the center of my neck is slightly exaggerated, as my surgeon said it would be -- that's from the bilateral paratracheal dissection, he actually removed muscle tissue from in there, so it looks like my neck is caving in a little there. I'm sure it's not anything that most people would ever notice. Last, the act of holding out the camera to take the picture causes some of my neck muscles to flex a bit, and that is contributing to the ropiness of my neck in these shots. I don't always look like I'm straining!

The scar itself comes off a bit more red in the photo than it really is, but again, I'm too lazy to manipulate the photo to bring it into alignment with reality. At this point, very few people notice my scar, and even fewer comment on it -- that's fine with me.

One annoying thing is that because of the long incision and the nerve weirdness in my neck, I can't stand to have anything on it. Most winters I live in turtlenecks and mock turtleneck tops, and I have a drawer full of them that I simply cannot wear right now -- and who knows whether or not I'll get comfortable over the course of the winter? I went to the Gap today and bought some new long-sleeve T's. I looked a few other places but I went with the Gap's because I like how they fit me -- I know they'll fit.

They finally posted my statement over at MDA -- they say I only owe $1700. I'm not going to argue, but we are going to wait to pay it until closer till the end of the year!

I am, as I said, allowing myself to think that I'm done with the active management/eradication phase of the Cancer Cycle. I could be wrong, but I hope I'm not. Right now the biggest worry I have is getting new prescriptions out of the endos at MDA in time for me to get them filled by the mail order folks. I'm sure it will work out one way or another. It's great to contemplate a future in which no horrofic procedures or treatments involving radiation are planned.

the bad seed

I found myself profoundly annoyed at last night's episode of Lost (audio), What Kate Did.

Kate murdered her father, Wayne. Her reasons are frankly unbelievable, coming from someone like her: she didn't kill Wayne because he beat up on her mother, or because he hit on her, or because he was a low-life drunk. No, she killed him because he was her father, even though Kate's mother was married to another man, the man who raised her as his daughter, even though he knew she wasn't.

I suppose people really do buy into this sort of idiocy. When Kate found out that her mother's first husband wasn't her biological father, she essentially gives up on herself. She believes she can never be good, or have anything good happen to her, because her "real" father is a low-life scum.

What makes it worse? Her mother's husband, who raised her, never told her the truth (she found out by accident), because he knew that she would murder Wayne if she discovered it. We'll give him points for being correct, but, dude! C'mon, this is your daughter, you raised her -- is that the best you could do? Seriously. Kate asks him, Why didn't you kill him? and instead of answering something sensible like, you know: murder is illegal, immoral, and I'm totally opposed to offing people as if it were no more meaningful than killing a mosquito, we have a justice system you know, and it does work relatively well -- instead of something like that, he comes up with this winner: Because I don't have murder in my heart.

There you have it, ladies and gentlemen! Kate was doomed from conception to be evil, because her daddy is a bad, bad man. It's all in the genes.

That is such crap.

We all have to deal with our genetics, but I refuse to believe we're doomed by them. Kate's Mother was obviously suffering from that pervasive negative self-worth pathology that aflicts a lot of women (not just poor ones), manifested when they tie themselves to wretched men and convince themselves they're happy about it. But her Mom also obviously had a good work ethic and kept a decent home, and her "father" obviously loved her and tried to do right by her when he was around -- since he was in the military, it's not clear how often he was there. The marshall even said that Kate had never been in trouble before, got straight A's in school, and seemed all good and well-adjusted and stuff.

What I want to know is, what happened to that girl? How did that farm girl, hunting with her dad and getting straight A's, morph into fugitive Kate? How did she let that one piece of information -- who her biological father is -- completely destroy everything she had ever done with her life, and anything she had ever planned to do with it?

What really makes no sense is, how does killing Wayne do anything to help the situation? OK, Kate feels as if she "rescued" her mother from a bad relationship, but clearly that wasn't her decision to make, and the route she took was completely whacked.

I know, the big thing about Lost is how fate rules all our lives. I guess maybe I've just done too much Lost too quickly, because it is getting on my nerves now. I can handle all the weird stuff on the island, all of Locke's semi-mystical "it was meant to be" yakkity-yak, but this stuff with Kate is back in the Real World, and it's garbage.

Yet how many people fall back on the excuse, the I had no choice, I was born into this, line? Here's a newsflash: we always have a choice, sometimes only between bad and slightly less bad, but the choice remains ours, and we have to take responsibility for whatever it is that we choose to do. That's the other thing that's pissing me off about Kate: she wants to be let off the hook for killing Wayne. Newsflash, Kate: you don't get to decide that your life and what you want are more important than Wayne's life. Sure, he was trash, but that doesn't make what you did any more right.

Mainly, now, I'm disappointed, because Kate's backstory just doesn't hold up. Only a sociopath would do what she did, but she's clearly not a sociopath. The Lost writers have veered into maudlin and ewww-inducing territories before, but this is the first time that I think they've just totally blown a character's backstory. Sawyer, now, Kate's doppleganger -- his story hangs together completely, as does everyone else's so far. But with Kate being such a central character, it's really disappointing to have them screw this up so badly.

I'm just not buying it. There's a difference between fate and a self-fulfilling prophecy.