Totally Worth It

For Christmas dinner this year, we decided to make a prime rib roast.  It was a significant investment - not just in the cost ($10.98 a pound, 9 pounds), but in braving Gartner's Meat Market to pick it up.  Gartner's is kind of a Portland tradition - best meat market in town, but around significant holidays, they have to hire parking guides, rope off areas, etc...  When we got there, the "take a number" sign was at 26, and they were just then working on number 93. It was organized chaos though - we spent maybe 30 minutes there and got out with our skins, our sanity, and some of our wallet.

It was worth it though - the roast was delicious, we had leftovers for a couple of days, we made the best beef noodle soup I've had in a long time with the bones, and now Moose, Daisy and Dancer are trading off bones and having a marvelous time.  Just for the fun that Dancer is having rolling around on top of "her" bone, it was totally worth it. 

Is It Cancer Or Just The Flu? Call in the Moose.

I've been under the weather for the past few days - running a fever, chills, general achy blah... One of the uncomfortable drawbacks to Hank's occupation of my uterus is that I can't tell if it's just a side effect, or if I've got the flu.  Either way, there's not a lot I can do other than just ride it out and indulge myself in puppy therapy. 

Fortunately, Moose is the best.  I can lay down under my fluffy purple blanket and he's right there, curling up on the lower end of my spine, just like a little hot water bottle.  After 10 years together, he knows just where to settle for maximum comfort.  Of course, he also knows just how to get my goat, and he tends to move around a lot, but still...  he's the best anyway. Daisy and Dancer occasionally try to sleep with me as well, but frankly, we need a bigger bed if it's going to be a three dog night. 

Ear Trauma

I went and got my ears repierced today - I had them done back in the 70s, but my holes grew over, so... I'd talked it over the night before with Mom, remembering the bad old days, when they would hold a cork on the back of your ear, heat up a needle by running it through a candle flame and shove it through. I was feeling very grateful for modern conveniences, having scouted the internet and found a piercing artist who was a certified professional yada yada...

So, showed up, and it's a head shop.  Half piercing studio, half vape shop, run by a woman who I'm pretty sure followed the Dead for a while.  Purple dyed hair, she makes Victorian lampshades, she gave me organic instructions on how to care for the ears, the whole shebang.  I was doing ok until she had me sat down in the hand chair (see above), prepped up and pulled out... yep.  You guessed it.  Cork.  But on the other hand, she gave me a stuffed monkey to hold onto while she pierced me, so we survived.

(Must Be 18 To Read This Post)

It's been an interesting evening here at the house.  Daniel is going off to his "Boys in the Woods" pot luck tomorrow, and he's making dessert - froot loop rice krispie treats in a lovely rainbow theme with tiny candy penises on top.  He's making an effort to be inclusive - he's got 36 white chocolate (with pink tips, of course) and 12 chocolate ones.  Contrary to urban legends, they're both exactly the same size, although Daniel does claim that the chocolate ones taste better.  I'm staying out of this one...

Memory Well

Mom brought me a gift from Grandma - she was going through her papers and found a caricature of me, circa the early '80s, sitting on a horse with a cowboy hat, claiming that there was a $1,000 reward for my arrest for horse stealin', cattle rustlin' and cowboy carousin'.  I'll see if I can manage to get it scanned in somehow, but the odd thing is that I can't remember it, at all.  No clue when it was done, don't remember ever seeing it before, it's just a complete blank.  Odd...

Really Belated Self-Realization

Tonight was the last night of my mandatory "weight management" class (don't get me started on the hoops I'm jumping through), but I suddenly realized why I'm having such a hard time with dieting.  Everyone else had goals like "look good for my reunion" or "be able to play with my children" or "go for a walk with my wife".  My goal was the same goal I've been wrestling with for the past year and a half - get this damned cancer out of me.  It's a good negative goal, but I need to think about a positive goal.  Anger is one hell of a motivator, but it's hard to keep up for long distances.

Hank Sucks.

I've been doing ok lately, whistling past the graveyard and pretending everything is smooth.  But every once in a while (like today) I get reminded that I've got cancer.  Ok, not that I've got cancer.  That I've got what is currently incurable cancer.  With a really lousy survival rate. I'm really, really good at denial - World Champ, as a matter of fact.  But this tumor that I call Hank is going to kill me. 

But that doesn't mean that I have to let him win.  I am not just this collection of skin and bones - in fact, that's not the most important part of me.  I can still create something that will last for others, and I can still polish the most important parts of me - the ones that I believe live on beyond this world.  My relationships with my family and friends, my intellect, my compassion, my dreams...  Hank can't take those if I don't allow him to.

He's been winning the war so far by limiting my movements outside the home, by tiring me out, by screwing with my emotions.  But I'm going to start fighting back again. 

Thanksgiving Prep

We're doing a (relatively) small dinner - turkey roasts rather than a whole bird, stuffing, yummy potatoes (that's what my family calls them - yours probably calls them funeral potatoes or if you're not from Utah, heart attack on a casserole dish).  I'm doing up a spinach casserole/quiche-y kind of thing, Daniel made deviled eggs for a starter, and (of course) Dixie salad.

If you're from anywhere other than Washington, Utah, you've probably never heard of Dixie salad, but it's a staple with my family.  The tradition started back in the '90s (that would be the 1890s) - salads were very elegant back east, and apparently, my ancestors found a recipe for Waldorf Salad in Godey's Ladies Book or somewhere. It called for lettuce, apples, walnuts, and mayonnaise  - which sounded frankly disgusting.  My people being a practical bunch looked out at a landscape with a distinct lack of lettuce or walnuts and put together a concoction of apples, pecans, pomegranate pips and whipped cream - it was a hit, and we've been eating it ever since. 

Some members of the family (heretics) have added bananas or other fruit, but we're purists.  We used to get the pomegranates off the trees in Grandma and Grandpa's back yard (same with the pecans), but lately, we've been forced to make do with substandard store-bought.  It's not the same, but we adapt - we're Adams women.  Harvesting the pips today, I remembered when Grandpa taught me that it's so much easier if you do it underwater - the juice doesn't get everywhere, the pips sink to the bottom of the bowl and the debris rises to the top and can be scooped off easily. We've also sunk to the level of using Cool Whip rather than whipped cream, but hey - I figure all those Cool Whip containers in Grandma's cupboard (and fridge) had to come from somewhere, and if it was good enough for her, it's good enough for me.

(Sidebar:  In searching for an image for Dixie salad, I found one poor deluded soul who actually included grapes and strawberries.  That's just flat wrong.)

Rough Week Ahead

Dixie in her normal habitat - under a blanket

That photo there - that's my sister.  My mother's constant companion for the past 12 or so years, Dixie Lynn Adams.  She was a rescue and the rescue place maintained that she was a pure-bred dachshund, but in her prime, she had a four-foot vertical leap, so I suspect there may have been some south of the border influence.  We don't talk about it, though. We just love her the way she is.  

She is definitely a dog with a personality.  I'm sure that at one point, she was a puppy, but she's been a crone so long that I can't really remember her puppyhood. She was born to be a crone - set in her ways, sure that she's right, ruler of the roost.  She even had making grumpy old woman noises down pat (and there's nothing more disturbing than hearing "gruntgrowlgruntgroan" coming from about a foot off the floor in your bedroom around midnight - it was just Dixie making her rounds, ensuring the safety of the family and the lack of any available unsnacked-upon food in the house.)

She put Mom through a scare a couple of years ago, when she lost her right eye to glaucoma, but it didn't slow her down.  She just accepted it as part of her pirate personae and kept on grumbling on.  But now, I think she's finally hit the end of the road.  For the past three or four months, she's been having trouble eating, and she's been losing sight in her good eye.  Now this past week, she's been confused (she got lost under the dining room table, unable to find her way out from the legs), and disoriented.  Mostly, though, she just seems to be frightened, and we think it's time to release her soul back to the universe.  We're going to try to give her a good send-off, though.

 

Bagby Memories

There's got to be a word that describes things that you don't need to put on your bucket list because you've already done them years ago.  Maybe the memory well list?  At any rate...

I saw this picture of Bagby Hot Springs today, and it brought back happy memories of when I was young, in shape(ish), and foolish enough to stay out all night.  This was back when I was part of the Clinton Street Cabaret group and performing at the Rocky Horror Picture Show every Saturday night.  There's only so many times you can go hang out at Lyon's after the show (although that number is startlingly high), so eventually we ended up piling into several cars and driving out past Boring, past Estacada, out to BFE, and then hiking up a 1 1/2 mile trail (in the dark, mind you) to Bagby - a natural hot spring that has been tamed to flow into cedar tubs up on top of the mountains under the stars.  It's really beautiful - especially when you can look up and watch the stars and just relax with 15 or 20 of your best friends for the night - although I would recommend bringing flashlights.  We tried it one night with a single glowstick, and it was not a good time hiking. 

Voting Day Thoughts

Of course, I don't agree with any of this, but it made me laugh (especially #4).  We all have voted, so that's two male votes to one very vocal female vote (Daisy and Moose are both strictly non-partisan and under 18, so they care not for this silly political season, but they would like people to know that they can be bought for a bone or two.) 

But for those of you who think that your vote doesn't matter, or that midterms are not important - a couple of years ago, there was a local school bond measure that passed by exactly 3 votes.  I'd like to think that it was the three votes from this house.  I tend to vote for all local school and library bonds, even though I won't have children, because I look at "government" not as a separate entity, but as all of us working together to get important things done that we can't or won't do separately.  We build our society by our votes, and I want an intelligent, well-read society. 

Saturday Grandma Thoughts

Thinking about grandma this morning... I was lucky growing up - I had 4 different grandmothers still alive when I was born, Grandma Lova (mom's mother), Grandma Clara (dad's mother), Little Grandma (Kate, Grandpa Dewane's mother) and Grandma Lula (Lova's mom).

I spent the most time with Grandma Lova as a kid - Mom had me at 17, and was divorced from Dad by the time she was 20, so she needed all the help she could get.  I spent a fair amount of time with Little Grandma too, since she lived right down the block.  I didn't realize until I was an adult that Lova must have been frustrated with that arrangement - living right down the block from your mother-in-law can't have been an easy way to spend a marriage.  But she made it work.

I remember when Grandma would come home from work (usually about 3:00 - she worked the early shift at Kellogg), she and I would have a little ritual.  She would fix us each an english muffin pizza, and we would sit at the kitchen table and count her tags for the day.  She did piecework - sewing zippers into tents or sleeping bags or whatever. She's the one who passed down the deep satisfaction of statistics to me.  You know, acknowledging each piece, watching the pile grow, occasionally comparing yourself to the others in the group, but mostly just trying to beat your own personal best.

She also instilled a love of the company of women.  I find myself hanging out with the guys most of the time, but there's something to be said for the comfort of just sitting down with a mutual project (usually a quilt, but sometimes making rolls, or canning, or whatever) with a group of women.  It's best if it's a project that's fairly repetitious and not terribly taxing mentally so that your fingers can just go ahead and fly while your brain and mouth can just enjoy spending time with friends.

And then there's the fear of throwing out anything...  Yep.  I definitely got that from Lova.  One entire closet in the basement was filled from floor to ceiling with nothing but fabric - mostly yard-ends that she grabbed from the dumpster at work.  And there was the food cellar that had canned goods (both home canned and store bought) from the 1950s on up.  She could easily have ridden out a zombie apocalypse just from her basement - it might not have been all that pleasant an experience, but she would have come out of it with some nice new quilts.

Happy Halloween

I'm the one on the right

Halloween on a Friday - I used to live for this confluence of events.  I mean, I love Halloween any way that I can get it but on a Friday, when I have two days to recover... it can't get better than that.  I used to have some epic costumes, too.  Always home-made - back then, Walmart hadn't started doing its "Fat Chick" selection of costumes (not that I would have anyway, but still - a big ol' FU to WalMart anyway.)  There was the year that I put 14 pounds of product, an entire bag of bobby pins and some major pink hair spray into my hair, piled it up on top of my head in a major faux hawk, along with a homemade pink tutu and some little pink Chucks and another 14 pounds of gold chains and went as Mr T's Fairy Godmother. Or the year I wore black fishnets, a black skirt, a white bustier and a bunny tail and ears, along with a fake AK-14 and went as Hugh Hefner's worst nightmare. 

At any rate - this year, I'm going as myself, circa 20 years ago.  The me that had just met Roger a month ago, and wasn't sure about him yet, but thought she might be falling in love.  The me that still went out and painted the town red whenever she wanted to, rather than staying home with my husband and puppies (not that there's anything wrong with that.)  The me that laughed - a lot.  Sometimes over really inappropriate things.  So Roger and I are going out to see Lewis Black at the Arlene Schnitzer Auditorium tonight - hey, the 29 year old me appreciated comfort and classy surroundings too - she just couldn't afford them. 

Hope you all have something to dress up as too... enjoy yourselves!  Happy Halloween.

Ok, enough death already

I just found out that my friend Terri from my cancer support group passed away.  This death... this death makes me angry.  She was a wonderful woman - funny, loving, open hearted with lots left to do in this life.  Her husband is a terrific man who was devoted to her, and I know his heart is broken, her children are great kids, but they still need a mother's guidance - heck, even some of her son's friends looked on her as a mom-substitute - they're going to be missing her as well.  Cancer is a senseless, frustrating, terror of a disease, and people have to deal with it every single day.  Why on earth Ebola gets all the attention is beyond my comprehension. 

At any rate... goodbye, Terri.  I will miss your hugs and your smile and your sense of wonder with the world.  You were the kind of teacher I would like for every child to experience, you were a wonderful wife and you were an instant friend.  I hope you are pain-free and have a pleasant garden to wait for Carter in.

Back Home - not quite ready to process the funeral itself yet.

Snippets from the trip itself, though...

Roger was amazed to find that there were places in the United States where the speed limit went above 75.  I think he took it as a personal challenge.  Let's just say that we made it from Cedar City to Vegas in under 2 1/2 hours - and that was with parts of I-15 down to just 1 lane.

He did take time to question some of the naming choices made by my founding fathers - or at least the pronunciations thereof.  For example, Hurricane and LaVerkin rhyming, Kanarraville, Virgin...  I brought up Kalamazoo and Hell in Michigan, not to mention Willamette, Couch, Champoeg (that's pronounced Shampooy for you non-Oregonians).  That last one shut him up.

The Tuscany Suites in Las Vegas were... adequate.  I think if we had gotten in sometime before midnight, I would have like them better, but while the concept was cute (a bunch of villas arranged around a main house), the toilet was about 6 inches lower than I am used to (I'm spoiled) and clogged immediately.  Not something you want to deal with after 6 hours of flying a sub-Greyhound airline and arguing with Hertz.  Oh, and in the 6 hours we were there, I heard at least 7 police sirens.  Admittedly, you don't generally to go Vegas to sleep, but it would have been nice to get at least a couple of hours.

There's No Place Like Home

I'm heading back to Washington, Utah tomorrow for Grandma Lova's funeral.  Well, sort of - turns out that there's no room at the inn.  They're holding the Senior Games in St George, so the hotels are all completely booked.  Somehow, the fact that there's no room for me in my hometown seems... a little too Morrisettish. 

It's not really my hometown anymore, anyway.  The Washington that I knew and drifted in and out of for most of my childhood isn't there anymore.  It's been overtaken by snowbirds and Californians, and land that struggled to provide for 400 or so farmers and ranchers now has over 20,000 residents.  Quentin Niessen's general store is long gone, and I'm betting that they don't show movies on a bedsheet in the wardhouse courtyard on Friday and Saturday nights anymore, either.  Grandpa's ranch is filled with condos now.  I'm not saying that it's a bad thing - just that it's not what it was when I was born.

Maybe that's why they say you can't go home again.  When you do, it's not there.  And I'm not sure why I'm feeling so nostalgic - lord knows I don't miss the 118 in the shade with no air conditioning, or the red dirt dust that clogged everything.  I do kind of miss them testing the air raid siren every day right at noon, though.  And the bookmobile.  I really, really miss the bookmobile.  And the knowledge that everyone in town knew me as Lova and Dewane's granddaughter - you know, LaRae's girl.  There's something very validating about roots that stretch back a century or so.  But when a town grows like lightening, those roots tend to snap.  Maybe that's what I miss.

801-673-2296

That was home base for me when I was growing up.  We moved around pretty much constantly, but 801-673-2296 - that was Grandma and Grandpa's home number, and I knew that I was always
welcome there.Things do change - eventually, it changed over to a 435 prefix, but it was still a constant well into my third decade.

Nothing lasts forever, though.  I just got the phone call from my mother that I had been expecting/ dreading/hoping for.  I know that sounds strange, but for the last few years, my grandmother has been trapped in a haze of short-term memory loss, with one of the few conversations that kept coming up every 15 minutes or so being "I guess God doesn't want me".  It broke a little bit of my heart every time I heard it, and I was hoping for Grandma to know she was wanted, and loved, by the God she was so faithful to.  I hope she's going on to eternal glory with Grandpa - or at least a pleasant cottage where they can be together and get on each other's nerves enough to know that they love and are loved by each other. And I'm also dreading knowing that those of us here are going to be without her love for a little while.  But that's the way life is, I suppose. 

Happy Autumnal Equinox

Today was a perfect Portland autumn day - cool, just a little drizzly, with a nice, fresh scent to the air after the scorch of Summer.  I ended up going in to work (the latest updates from ACE-IT bricked my computer - it was taking up to 5 minutes for each keystroke to register), and took a little bit of a spin around downtown (nice to renew my acquaintanceship with the various oddballs you meet on the street.) 

The one thing about mostly teleworking - when I do get into the office, I end up spending a lot of time reconnecting.  Schmoozing, helping out...  putting the fear of Deci back into a couple of people who needed reminding that I've forgotten more about the programs that they're using than they will ever know (and damn it, stop trying to insert tables and pictures into the contract writing system!  I told you and told you that 19 times out of 20, it might work, but that 20th time, it's going to freeze you solid, and there's nothing I can do about it because CACI is just going to smugly point out the KB article that says not to ever do that - ok, end parenthetical rant.) 

It was bittersweet, though - I loved being back, but my body reminded me why I don't do this everyday anymore about 1:30 or so, started up the whining, big time.  My mind - my mind is totally there and wanting to dance the night away, but my body has become a grumpy old woman who is just there for the early bird special. 

It's funny, though - I'm sort of following a tree's course here.  I've spent my summer's course of being a solid mass of indistinguishable green, and am breaking out into vibrant fall plumage (in my case, purple rather than red or yellow, but vibrant nonetheless), before dropping into the decay of my winter.  People are telling me that I look better than ever, but I can feel the winter of my cancer creeping in.  Not just yet though.   I've still got lots of leaves to lose before I get there.

Why I Enjoy My Job

So, one of the aspects of my job is that occasionally, we have to notify Congress of projects that are about to be awarded.  It might be so that they can take advantage of it in the local press, maybe so that they know our money is being well spent... 

At any rate, out of 25 years, I've only had one action where I got a question back down the line.  And I thought you guys might appreciate the question...  "Are you sure you meant to say "tainter?"  Yep.  Tainter gates.  To quote Wikipedia "the Tainter gate is a type of radial arm floodgate used in dams and canal locks to control water flow. It is named for Wisconsin structural engineer Jeremiah Burnham Tainter."  And don't even get me started on the erecting studs, or the butterfly sexer.

What can I say?  You've got to find your fun where you can.  In September, it's good to remember the little things.

Doctor Visit Result

Not particularly satisfying result...  my weight has gone up some since last time, and my A1C has not gone down enough (it's 8.6, which is down from the 9.4 it was at, but...)  We're going to be talking again in 2 weeks, but we discussed a possible second option (Plan B), which would be taking the tumor out vaginally.  It's not optimal, but if I can't get to the point where they can do the hysterectomy, this is another option.  She's also going to check again with the morbid obesity guys - she put in a request to them 3 months ago, but there doesn't seem to have been any movement on it yet.  I'm feeling a little down, but at least this time it's just a two week wait, rather than another 3 months. 

Slow Fade Into Inward Facing Turtle Stance

I had one of those 3:00 am epiphanies this morning - I've been retreating from life (or at least from my association with it) ever since my diagnoses.  It's taken me a while to realize it, because I've been managing to blame it on pain or embarrassment or laziness, but no.  I'm spending more energy avoiding other people than it would take to just give in and enjoy them (and I used to be incredibly outgoing, so this is a major change for me.) 

The pain thing is real - my arthritis has spread from just my knees to my hips, my spine, my hands... but I'm not bothering to go in and find out if there's something else I can do to actually fix that problem, or at least alleviate the symptoms, so that's not it.

The embarrassment factor - yeah, not being able to go anywhere because I'm not sure when my bladder is going to take over is a bother, but that shouldn't be affecting my on-line presence, and yet, I've been fading away there too. 

I'm scared.  I got a good look at my mortality, and I'm terrified, and my automatic defense mechanism has kicked in - avoidance, slap a brick wall up and run like hell.  But I don't know where to run to, and so it feels like I've just gone into retreat.  Retreat from everything and everybody.  I've built a shell and stuffed myself into it, and the shell is tightening.  So instead of reaching out, or even responding to those people who are reaching in, I've just been hiding, making myself a smaller target for whatever is out there.  This has got to stop.  So, I'm starting with this post - Hi.  I'm Deci. Please forgive me for fading away - I'm going to try to be more present.

Sleep Lab Tomorrow Night

I don't know if I have mentioned it before on the blog, but in addition to everything else (cancer, diabetes, arthritis, ingrown toenails, whatever...) I've also got a bad case of sleep apnea.  Really bad - like I stop breathing 35 to 40 times an hour when I'm sleeping, and my pulse ox dips down into the low 80s.  But since I've lost a bunch of weight since the last time they tested me, they're going to test me tomorrow and make sure that the settings are still right.

So, basically, they hook me up with a bunch of electrodes (including gluing them into my hair - I hate that part), put me in a room with infrared cameras and then tell me to get a good night's sleep.  No husband, no puppies, no water bed, just me alone with my electrodes.  Really not looking forward to this - especially since I've been having an increasing issue with bladder control, thanks to Hank sitting on top of it.  But I figure I can just not drink anything after noon tomorrow, and I should be ok, right?  At any rate, please wish me luck...

Good couple of days

Friday, we got together with Don for breakfast at my place - it was really nice to touch bases with him again.  Don is one of my oldest friends - I think I imprinted on guys wearing flannel shirts because of him, so he may be one of the reasons that Rog and I are together. 

Saturday, we went to the Columbia Helicopter company picnic.  It was an opportunity to introduce the newest member of our family around, and Daisy did very well - even though she's a runner, she only got away once, and she didn't really have her heart in it.  We bought new harnesses for both pups for the occasion - red for Moose, purple for Daisy.  The harness fit Moose much better than Daisy though - it was really more suited for his body type than hers.  The search continues... 

Funny bit of serendipity on the way there... we were getting the puppies settled in and trying to convince Moose that he really can't drive so he had to move out of the driver's seat.  Finally got everyone settled in, turned on the car, and the radio had George Thorogood playing "Move It On Over" - Move over, little dog, a big old dog is moving in...

We had a lovely time at the picnic and Daisy was a big hit (Moose is always a big hit).  Funny thing, though - Moose behaved himself like a perfect gentleman, even being calm when Roger introduced him to a bull dog while he was walking around (Moose normally does not do well with big dogs - small dogs, no problem, but big dogs tend to bring out his Napoleonic tendencies).  Unfortunately, when we stopped by on the way out, Moose didn't do so well - possibly because he was on the footboard of my scooter.  He tends to be braver when he's under his Mama's skirts.

On the way out of the park, we turned the corner just in time to have a doe and her two fawns amble their way across the road in front of us.  All in all, a lovely visit.

Thoughts on Suicide

Suicide is popping up again in my lifestream - in addition to my Facebook stream being full of Robin Williams obituaries, one of my cousins' mother-in laws also committed suicide last Friday.  I've lost friends, family, a co-worker...  I was even given several really bad nights by a stranger jumping off of a parking garage in Portland and landing on the street about 8 feet from me. 

I used to find myself being incredibly angry at people who killed themselves - I felt (still feel) that it's one of the most selfish acts a person can commit, leaving a messy life behind for others to have to clean up.  Part of that anger also might have been that I have been on the edge myself - remind me to tell you all about the pickle jar incident sometime - and stepped back, forced myself to go on when I thought there wasn't a way forward, and if I could do it, why couldn't they?

But my struggle was momentary - I'm starting to realize that other people feel that way all the time.  Depression, anger, paranoia, frustration - a life with few highs and incredibly abysmal lows.  If this life is all there is, why continue on with the agony?  Alternately, if there is an afterlife (and considering my current situation, I'm desperately hoping there is) why not go ahead and skip to dessert, or push the reset button, or whatever metaphor applies?

Living your life solely to avoid harming others is a possible reason, but what about those who are hurting so much that they are already taking it out on those around them?  What about those who feel like life is already over but the shell just won't quit?  As a society, maybe we need to find a way to allow death to be a cleaner option for those who just can't continue on. 

There are a lot more thoughts about this, and I find that the older I get, the more my opinion changes, but I'd like to hear other people's thoughts.

Moose is playing his mama like a fiddle again

It's been a busy time for the pups - Daisy had to go to the vet yesterday (she's fine, it was just a well puppy visit), she had a spa day today, and Moose had to go to the dog equivalent of the barber for a nail trim.  They're both looking lovely now (and Moose is a stealth puppy - you no longer here the clickclickclick down the hallway). 

For some reason, though, Moose was acting strange after he got back from Jackie's Clip Joint.  He was hiding off in the Moose Cave (a dog bed we've got stashed under the desk in the other room), wanting to go outside a lot more than usual, just generally being anti-social.  I thought he might be moping about the clip, although normally he's fine with going to Jackie.  He kept going down the hall to the bedroom, and I thought maybe he just needed time by himself, so I left the door open.  I went to check on him a little later... 

Turns out, he was down there chewing on one of Daisy's bones that he'd unearthed from god knows where.  I suspect he's been sneaking around chewing on her bones all day.  Little stinker. 

Ok, this one is political

In a press conference today, President Obama was talking about the declassified report on interrogations that's going to be coming out soon, and one of the things he said was "we tortured some folks".  (The report is about enhanced interrogation techniques, by the way, that he had stopped when he came into office.) 

I was watching Bill Maher later this evening, and there was a Republican strategist on who was offended by the fact that he used the word folks.  Apparently, he felt that the word usage wasn't "presidential".  No.  What was not presidential (in my opinion) was using those techniques (yes, torture) in the first place. I'm a lot more comfortable with my president using colloquialisms than I am with him prosecuting wars based on shaky information. 

Late Night

I had one of those late-night blood sugar drops tonight - woke up with my blood sugar at 64.  It's always a bit unsettling - when I get that low, I start getting a little irrational, and my body goes into a "I'm dizzy, I'm sweaty, I'm going to make you pay for this" dance, which makes me scared, which makes me more irrational.  Fortunately, a little glucose, and I'll be fine... but it does make it hard to get back to sleep. 

On the other hand, sleep may be over-rated.  I'm sitting in my comfy chair, Moose curled up like a comma around my left side, Daisy snugged in tight to my right - there are worse places to be.  I was having a bit of a white night anyway - I've got my "every three month" scan on Friday, and the back of my brain has been fretting about it, so it could just be that this is my body's way of saying "You need a night of reading trashy novels". 

On the other other hand, however, Moose is starting to snore like a sailor after a three-day bender.  Daisy is entirely too dainty to snore, but let's just say her breathing has gotten a lot more... pronounced.  There is nothing more sleep-inducing than a couple of snoozing pups on your lap, and I feel the glucose kicking in, so I guess it may be time to head back for bed after all.  Goodnight.

Work Day Today

I went into the office today (had some stuff that needed to be taken care of in person, rather than over the phone.)  (Well, actually, I thought I had some stuff that had to be taken care of in person, but the person who requested help gave me a "What?  It's not doing it anymore." when I went over to his desk to help him out, so... guess who is going straight to the bottom of my "help him out" list.  Dimbulb).  Anyway, it was nice to get a chance to see everyone again - and at least two-thirds of the office ended up going out to lunch together at a pool hall down the block, so all in all it was a nice change of pace.  I'm definitely ready to drop, though...  I just can't do 12 hours days the way I used to. 

Driving home, I saw several signs of why I love Portland so much, though - we came home down Sandy (because I-84 is the highway of the damned during rush hour).  I saw a hipster bicyclist with his mustaches flapping in the wind at least a foot behind him, a sign in a window front advertising ukelele lessons, another window front with the fugliest naugahyde 50s barstool I've ever seen, and (of course) a martial arts studio straight across the street from an urgent care clinic.  It's my home, and I love it. 

Sick day thoughts

I spent most of today sleeping with my minions - one curled behind my knees, one curled up at the back of my neck.  I've been doing worse lately - having trouble with controlling my bladder, more skin infections and the weird fevers that go with them, etc.  I was hoping that getting my blood sugar back under control would help with the sleepiness, and it seems to be helping some, but every once in a while, I go through periods where I just can't keep my eyes open.  I'm hoping that it's just me and my weird body, not Hank...  fortunately, the next scan is next Friday, so I should know soon, and my blood sugar has gotten back under control, so with any luck, it won't be much longer in the twilight zone. 

The Tyranny of Possessions - Day Two

Miss Daisy is on her second day of guarding her blue bone, and an uneasy truce is still in effect.  (To bring anyone who didn't catch the Facebook post up to speed... I gave both Moose and Daisy a blue dental bone yesterday - Moose ate his immediately, Daisy spent the day curled up around her bone, growling at Moose, Daniel, Roger... pretty much anyone who came within 5 feet of her and her bone.).

I ended up moving it for her last night, putting it up on the table where Moose couldn't get at it so that she could come to bed and get some sleep.  But this morning, she's back curled up around the bone again.  It's odd... she isn't eating it, she's just guarding it.  I gave Moose a new one this morning (he ended up barking at Daisy when she came to investigate - sauce for the goose, I suppose), so she knows that there are more bones to be had, but for some reason, it's this particular bone that has her protective instincts up. 

I've been searching for a life lesson here, but I just can't relate - my method of protecting my groceries has always been to eat them as quickly as possible so that someone else can't sneak in and grab them (I know.  I'm working on it.)  But it seems to be bringing her a perverse amount of satisfaction, so I'm going to let her go with it.  Que cera, cera. 

Thoughts on the undocumented children controversy

Not going to get into the politics of it - except to say that in my opinion, our current system is broken, and rather than just dealing with current undocumented people, we need to completely revise how we let people in. 

My thoughts are mostly for these kids - how incredibly scared they must be, and how incredibly desperate their families must have been to send them.  One of the scariest trips I ever took in my life was one summer when I was in my early teens - I'd been spending the summer with my grandparents down in southern Utah, and Mom called asking them to send me back up to Idaho, because we were moving and she needed me there.  I can't remember why it was a rush - I think we got the message later than we should have because we'd been out camping.  Anyway - grandpa took me down to the Greyhound office (well, the hotel that doubled as a Greyhound office - we're talking St George in the 70s).  The office there wasn't open, so grandpa gave me the price of a ticket and the driver said I could ride to Cedar City and buy a ticket there. 

However... when I got to the ticket office, there had been a price increase that we didn't know about, and I didn't have quite enough for a ticket.  I had 30 minutes to have a mini-breakdown and figure out what to do - and no idea who I could call for help.  Considering the panic and desperation I felt - and then multiplying that by the lack of a common language, being shoved into a system that regards them as illegal, the enormity of the difficulties these children are going through...  I can't imagine how they are surviving. 

I eventually got by through the grace of a trucker who took pity on a little girl who was crying in the ticket office (and gave me 5 dollars for breakfast to boot - thank God for truckers with a heart).  And I've been hearing stories of citizens who are trying to help out the kids.  May we always find some grace in our hearts to help as much as we can.

Twilight Musings

Date night out tonight with Roger - driving home, we hit the golden moment.  I love summer twilight, right after the sun has set, but before the light has all faded, when everything is softened from the harshness of the day.  There's a distinct smell to twilight - I think it's the smell of the world starting to cool, sort of sweet and heavy, but lightening up. 

Then there's the anticipation.  Work is done, heat is fading, the night is still full of promise and adventure (or blessed rest - either way).  The most intriguing things always seem to happen right after twilight, and anticipating them is frequently the best part.

Happy Fourth

For the first time in ages, I'm not going to be watching the guys and Brigid set off a few fountains in the driveway to celebrate.  I'm missing it a little - I'm missing the Monkey a lot, but I suppose she has to live her own life.  If she has to.  I guess. 

Part of the decision not to do fireworks this year has to do with Brigid not being here - we can't blame our latent pyromania on her anymore.  But I'm also starting to feel uncomfortable about the whole concept - spending money on something that lasts for 5 minutes at best on sparkly noisy nothing.  The fact that it took me 49 years to grow up that much is a little frightening, but still...

I also have been dealing with Daisy's semi-nervous breakdowns nightly this week - I live in a part of town where idiots start loud aerial fireworks on the first of July and don't stop until the 7th (I hope they stop by then...)  I've been spoiled by Moose, who has always been relatively calm about fireworks - Daisy, on the other hand, has been shaking and rotating enough to start her own little gravitational field.

So instead, we're just getting together and watching a little silly television with friends - I'm still grateful for my country, just a little more quietly grateful.

Wakeup Call

About ten minutes before the radio went off this morning, Daisy crawled up my body and settled in on my chest.  When I didn't immediately start petting, she nuzzled my chin a little - clearly canine-speak for "make with the snuggling, woman!"  I know the next step - licking - and since she not only had dog breath, but morning dog breath, I complied quickly to head off the horror of eyeball-licking.  We had a nice couple of minutes before the radio started blaring and the boys woke up... at which point, Moose went into his patented "Hey, that's my mama!" dance, trying to shove in between me and the rest of the world (especially Daisy).  You know, there are worse ways to wake up.
 

Late night thoughts

Well, not all that late.  But late enough for a schoolnight.  I had my consult with my endocrinologist today, and she gave me some adjustments to my Lantus/Regular regimen.  I also need to adjust my diet - ever since I've been working on plant-based, everything has been working really well, except for my blood sugar.  That has been going through the roof - my last A1C was 9.4.  So, for the next couple of months, I'm going to be concentrating on blood-sugar maintenance and do an intense push to get it back down - that should be the last hoop to jump through before surgery.

I'm a little scared to let go of my plant-based routine (although part of me is also going "bring on the eggs!").  I do think it's helped keep Hank from growing - although I know that's strictly anecdotal, and I'm by no means saying that it would work for everyone.  It's also helped me to feel like I had some measure of control over something that I felt completely overwhelmed by, and we all know how I crave control.  I also want to keep being a rock star in my doctors' eyes - that's been a completely new experience for me, and I liked it! But I think that I can do plant-based plus a little protein here and there - maybe shoot for the vegan before 6:00 thing that Bittman advocates, and still keep the benefits.  We'll see how it goes. 

My own little Yin and Yang

While Mom left on Saturday, Daisy Mae has stayed behind - she actually hid outside while the car was being loaded up in her own little "hell, no, I won't go" protest.  So I am the proud mama of two puppies now, and the two of them could not be more different.  Looks - smooth vs fluffy, scrunched nose vs long, long legs vs short; personality - loud and toothless vs silent but deadly; snuggle habits - constant and under a blanket vs when she wants to and very much outside the blanket. 

They've been adjusting to each other, and I think that Daisy is coming out on top, but I think that Moose is still making a run for it - we'll see. 

Finishing off my lost month

What all can I say - it's been a hell of a month.  Moose ended up needing surgery on his neck (he's doing much, much better now, thanks to Doctor Skinner), I spiraled down a little more, Mom has left for Utah for a couple of months, and I'm going to spend the summer trying to get my A1C back under control - without gaining any weight back, hopefully.  I promised Mom that I would blog every day so that she could feel comfortable being gone - so, this is the first one.  I'm hoping future blogs will be more edifying (or at least more fun to read.) 

Coming home from work today

I went into the office today, but ended up having to come home a couple of hours early (for some reason, my temp decided to spike - once it got close to 100, I decided it was time to hit the road.)  Fortunately, though, my trusty steed was fueled up and ready to go, so I was able to take Max and then scooter home. 

Funny thing, though... it was the perfect confluence of ephemera that you rarely get.  Not sure if it was my brain being feverish or what, but - there's a bike path that goes from the Max station to my house, so I was able to just go ahead and open it up and enjoy the ride (I know, opening it up to 4 mph doesn't sound that good, but...)  Chugging along, my sunglasses on, purplish hair flying in the wind, Meatloaf screaming in my headphones - I was feeling cool.  Until, of course, I got home, parked my screaming machine in the garage and went to stand up.  Then, I got reminded that I'm an arthritic old woman.  Damn it.  But still - I had a moment of cool.  That's something.  I'll take it.

Feeling the wind in our hair...

Down day today

Down day today - my body is still giving me mega-grief about Utah (or at least about the airport), I somehow managed to gain 15 pounds (yes, that's 15) over the weekend (I'm thinking it's probably water weight, but we'll see...) and Moose is still not feeling well - or at least, he's not a spring pup.  He might just not have forgiven me yet for leaving him alone - for example, he'll head over to the moosecave, but he keeps looking back every four or five steps, just to make sure that I realize he's not going to be loving on me.  He doesn't seem to be feeling as much pain, but he's still stressed out.

Great Weekend

Although, I'm a little wiped out.  My weekend started out with a half-mile walk through the PDX airport.  Fortunately, I was then rewarded by having the plane half-filled by members of the San Antonio Talons arena football team - mega eye candy, all strolling past my seat in the front of the plane.

The family gathering was Saturday - I'll write more about that when I've had a chance to process it.  It was lovely to see everyone, though and to see how everyone is growing.

Sunday, I got to spent time with two of my favorite guys in the world (Don and Jeff), including a wonderful cheese tasting (if you ever get a chance, check out Uncle Ron's cheese - I really recommend the dill).   

What I wouldn't recommend is the Baymont Inn.  About the best thing you could really say for it is that it was clean, but the beds were basically rocks, things kept breaking down (the ice machine, my hair dryer, all the electric outlets in my room), and there was absolutely no sound baffling at all - Saturday night I was kept up by the people in the room above me practicing what had to have been tantric sex, since it went on for over an hour.  While I admire their stamina, I just wanted to go to sleep.

Getting out of Dodge for the weekend

And feeling really, really conflicted about it. Saturday is Grandma's 96th birthday party, and a family gathering to celebrate her. Roger, Mom and I have tickets and are heading out tomorrow morning at way too freaking early - it's the first trip I've taken since Hank came into my life.  I was already sort of dreading and really looking forward to the trip, but then Moose threw a spanner in the works. 

He's had a couple more of his little spells, and I'm feeling awful about leaving him - but then again, I'm leaving him with his Uncle Daniel, who has a) power of attorney over him with my vet; and b) knowledge of where the sausages are kept, and the ability to run the microwave.  I've talked with the vet, and there's nothing that can be done immediately that we're not already doing, Moose is already going to be seeing the vet Saturday with Daniel for his laser treatment...  but yet, I'm still feeling like my presence is the only thing keeping Moose from keeling over immediately.  I know, stupid thought, but you can't argue with your gut. 

I'm going to try to let go and enjoy the weekend.  For one thing, I need to see my family again (and Mom tells me that they need to see me as well).  At this point, there's no way to reschedule this - that's not an option.  I'm just going to have to let the gut (and the guilt) know it's not going to be running my life (this time.) 

Moose's Bummer Trip

We finally got Moose back in to actually see his veterinarian - turns out I was right to be worried about him.  Looks like while we were getting him treated for the back issues, he either developed a neck issue, or had a minor stroke - his whole right side is not working correctly (his front leg is knuckling, the back leg is dragging, his right eye is drooping slightly. 

They're putting him on a course of Prednisone to see if some of the pressure on the nerves can be reduced, and we'll see what happens - but I could use any mojo you can send my boy's way. 

Adventures in Shoe-Shopping

In yet another of my99th percentile-ism, I hate shoe shopping.  I mean, ever since I started my stint as a professional buyer, the glow of shopping has faded - it's like being a prostitute, once you go pro, the amateur stuff loses its shine - but shoe shopping has always been the worst.  For one thing, my feet are a size 11 double wide, so forget finding some cute little sexy strappy things.  But my feet also tend to inflate and deflate during the day like they were filled with helium. And then there's the sweat - does anyone else have feet that sweat enough to make them embarrassed to let anyone else see them?  Anyway, I don't shoe shop unless forced. 

But we're heading over to the family reunion next weekend, and Kimo spent all that time prettifying my feet (purple toenails and all), so Mom managed to drag me into Jay's Wide Shoes.  Miracle of miracles, we found a good salesguy, and he had us in and out in less than 20 minutes - I found a good pair of sandals, a nice pair of work shoes and a really neat pair of mottled purple and blue sandals.  Much, much easier than I thought it would be - of course, Roger found himself a couple of pair of shoes next door at Pay-Less for about a tenth of what I paid, but on the other hand, I can live with paying the money to get some good shoes and not have to do this again for a couple of years. 

The Sisterhood of Purple

Another adventure at the pool - finished up my 20 channels, got back to the locker room, and this little 3 or 4 year old girl complimented me on my swimsuit ("Purple!  My favorite color!")  She then noticed my toenails (recently lacquered by the amazing Kimo - if you live in Portland, I highly recommend the woman), got even more excited ("More purple!  Look, Mom!").  At that point, she then reached my hair (recently re-purpled by Kerin), and I believe she had a little baby stroke.  I suspect that I made the girl's day, if not year - and may have caused a problem for her parents once she reaches an age where she can reach the hair dye shelves.  My work here is done.

It's been a heck of a week

So far, we've had my scan results (moderately troubling, but not an immediate big deal), and Moose's issues - we've started him on the laser treatments, but he's still hurting.  In fact tonight, he was hurting enough that he was not interested in food - he's really starting to worry me.  Then there was kicking  Comcast to the curb, which involved change (and you all know how I feel about change).  Then we got to Friday.

Friday was going to be a busy day, regardless - Mom wanted us to get prettified before we headed to Utah, and I had an appointment beforehand, but Kimo figured out that if I came in at 12:00 (and she brought a chainsaw) she could get my toes done before Kerin tackled my hair at 1:30, then Mom could get her toes done... which all went out the window when Mom went to her doctor's appointment to consult on the rogue tissue they found last November.  They found a lump, which meant she had to go for an emergency ultrasound and a mammogram (so much for getting her pedicure!)  Fortunately, it was a false positive, but there was a period there where I have to admit to a bit of a freak out.  Frankly, I think Mom needs to stop going to the doctor. 

Things eventually worked out, and we both got spruced for the trip, but it was a long day.  But we figured hey - we'll do a nice brunch for Mother's Day, go out to Old Wives Tale since everyone could stay within dietary restrictions there, decompress...  Got to OWT only to find out that this restaurant that has lasted 34 years in Portland's ever-changing restaurant atmosphere... closed permanently May 5th.  We all took this as God saying that with the week we had, we were allowed to go to Pig 'n' Pancake.  Some weeks, you just gotta have one classic diner meal to restore your sanity.

Update - Scan Results - Puppy Palette Cleanser

It's never good when you get a call from your nurse saying "Now, this is probably nothing to worry about..." Apparently, this last scan, there was some metabolic activity seen in the osseous structures of the pelvis and spine - (basically, Hank may be spreading to the bone).  However, since there weren't any cancerous lesions seen in those areas, they think that this is just an incidental thing, not important or significant, just something we need to keep an eye on.  I'm not worrying (like fun, I'm not worrying - my head isn't worried.  My spleen, on the other hand, is fretting to beat the band.)

So...  there's that.  On the other hand, there's Moose, who went through the first of his "cold laser" treatments for his back, and has been stoned out of his freaking gourd all day.  Not too stoned to bark his head off at the cable guy, you understand - but stoned enough that he preferred to bark from the safety of his mother's lap.  Dixie was trying to take up the slack, but she would bark some, forget what it was that she was barking about, then 5 minutes later remember that there was an intruder, bark a little more (wash, rinse, repeat) - she just doesn't have the dedication necessary. 

Group thoughts

I haven't been going to group lately, a fact that Mom has been happy to point out to me.  I, of course, maintained firmly that I've just been busy, things to do, nothing big, it hasn't been that long... you know, the usual Cleopatra, queen of denial.  The fact that given the choice I went swimming rather than face the group should have been a clue for me.  But no, I refused to look, until I heard that there were rumors that I had gone off my diet and was too embarrassed to show my face made me exam why I was avoiding the group (no, it's not the diet thing!)

I realized I had not gone back to group since Larry died, almost a month ago.  It's not that Larry was a good friend of mine - he was a good man, a loving husband, a solid, steady presence, but not a close friend.  So it wasn't mourning him that was keeping me away - it was my fear of change.  I can't stand it when people around me change, especially those who feel like father figures.  Larry felt very much like a patriarch to me - the first day we met, I mentioned that I was reading Zealot by Reza Aslan (it's a book examining the life of Jesus), and the next week, he brought me a copy of the New Testament, because he was worried about my soul.  I felt like going to group and sitting there without him across from me would cement the fact that he's gone.  More than that, it would send home the fact that this is the nature of the group - this isn't a book club.  These are all people (including me) with a potential death sentence, and Larry is just the first.  I know, life itself comes with a death sentence, but for us, it's been firmed down a little. 

Kicking Comcast to the curb

Just letting everyone know that my phone number is going to be changing tomorrow (family, you can always leave a message on Mom's phone, and I'll try to send out an email blast to everyone once I know the digits). Two months of  having to reset the modem every other minute has finally gotten to me, and since Comcast's response has been to blame my router, rather than figure it out, I'm going back to *gag* CenturyLink. 

Part of me wishes I could keep the old number, but I'm also hoping like hell that I get out from under the computer-generated "This is XXXX with card services calling with an important announcement about your current credit cards".  I get one of them at least every other day, and they spoof the phone numbers, so I can't just not pick up the phone.  There should be a special place in hell for the guys who think up these scams (note, I'm not saying the people working the phones - in this economy, I can understand being desperate, but their bosses need punishment badly.)

More observations from the pool

I'm up to 20 laps of the channel now - 16 forward, 4 back (those back ones - the ones against the current - kick my butt.)  The thing that I love the most, though, is watching the little toddlers with their parents.  Somehow, I don't think that I'm going to be able to convince Mom to stand in the water and let me jump into the pool on her, though.  Every once in a while, they break off and the whole class comes and floats around the channel for a couple of laps - it's kind of the equivalent of an obstacle course for the pool.

The dressing room is always an education in the diversity of the human body - on one side of me is this young woman who could be starring in a Zumba infomercial pulling on her Victoria Secret thong, and then on the other side of me is an 85 year old grandmother picking her breasts up off her navel to stuff them into her orthopedic bra.  Then, there's the 50ish woman sitting absolutely starkers on the bench on her cell phone talking about a real estate deal she's working.  I am truly grateful for the technical advances we've made this past 50 years - heck, it's kept me alive, but that offends my sense of propriety.  You should not be able to transact any business that would require a bank loan without having to put a minimal amount of clothing on. 

Why do doctors do this?

I'm going to be looking for a different sleep apnea doctor.  I'd sent my current sleep apnea doctor an email saying that I'd been suffering from fatigue (yep, it's still an issue), and that I'd like to at least get my machine checked and perhaps get a new sleep study, since I've lost 145 pounds in the past year.  Now, keep in mind this is Kaiser, so she has access to everything in my chart, and it's been a couple of weeks since I sent the email to her (in her defense, she was on vacation). 

She started off with "sometimes if you don't sleep well at night, it can lead to fatigue".  Right.  I've been dealing with sleep apnea for over 10 years now = when I say fatigue, I'm not talking a little "didn't sleep well, so I'm drowsy".  I'm talking sleeping 12 - 14 hours a day and still being tired.  Which she would know, if she'd look at my chart.  But that's not the big thing that frustrated me.  She closed with "I hope you have undertaken a daily exercise program, as that can be so important to weight loss".  What, 145 pounds in a year wasn't enough for you?  Second, you are not my general practitioner, you're not my nutritionist, you're not involved in my weight loss plan in any way.  Why do you feel it necessary to bring this up in a brief email? 

I've dealt with this all my adult life - going in to a doctor with the flu and having them bring up my weight, generally in a "did you know that weight can affect your immune system?" kind of way.  I suspect people who smoke get the same thing  - oh, you broke your ankle?  Did you know that smoking can decrease your healing potential?  We get it - we've got bad habits, you feel entitled to shame us for them.  But when I'm actively working to cure that bad habit, continuing to shame me is not acceptable.  Sorry, Dr. F, but I'm firing you. 

Frustrations with faith

Genetically, I'm Mormon.  My ancestors pushed everything they owned across the Great Plains to Utah to help found the church - in fact, my ancestors were that special kind of committed Mormons who were told to go down south to the desert and try to grow cotton and didn't respond with "are you kidding?" My family is all Mormon (ok, Mom took a break from the church for about 30 years, but she came back to the faith).  In my soul, most of the beliefs ring true - families are forever to me, we are eternal souls, and this body is just a pitstop on the way to better things, teachings of the church are for everyone to discover and distribute, not just for a priest class to hand down from on high...  I should be one of the faithful. 

But I can't manage to bring myself to do it.  Every time I think that the Church elders are finally going to come to their senses and stop concentrating on homosexuality, some new article in the Ensign or some speaker in Sacrament meeting reminds me that they've only come so far as to acknowledge that homosexuality itself doesn't damn you, only the practical application does.  Oh, they'll say that any sex outside of marriage is a sin, but then they fight tooth and nail (and millions of dollars) to make sure same-sex marriage does not pass.  Why are they concentrating on identifying and trumpeting about that which divides us, rather than that which brings us together?  And with all the science that has proven that sexuality is innate, not taught, why concentrate on this particular trait?  Someone can not be damned for having blue eyes or for being left-handed - why just this one particular set of genetic code?

Speaking of genes...  My mother is one of the most inquisitive, intelligent, thoughtful women I know.  She has immense gravitas and did a spectacular job serving as the officiant for Brigid's wedding - there were a few tears (not just mine).  She would make a fantastic member of the bishopric if it weren't for the lack of that "Y" gene.  She's not alone - many of the women in my family are strong both in their faith and in their talents.  It makes no sense to me for a church to sideline half of its talent this way, or shunt them off to running the Relief Society. 

So, I'm a woman without a country - or at least without a church.  No other church feels right to me, but yet, the LDS church doesn't feel like I'm right for it.  Fortunately for me, my family does not shun me for this - they seem to love me despite my being the neon-pink sheep of the family. 

Observations from the pool

We went swimming again today - note to self, do not go on a weekend.  You can not handle that level of "happy noises of young children" (or as I refer to it, natural birth control).  It was lovely to see how many fathers were there with their kids, though - it was maybe half and half mothers and fathers. 

After slogging around the course for my 16 repetitions (and cursing the obnoxious girl hanging onto a lilypad and splashing/kicking in the current pool - the whole point is you don't have to propel yourself, which means you're just doing this to annoy me, young wench!  And get off my lawn.), we went to warm up in the hot tub.  We ended up sitting between this older couple (maybe late 60s?) and a young couple.  The young guy was giving the girl a bit of a backrub, and it was pretty obvious that they were newly dating - they didn't have the ease of anyone who has actually seen the other one naked.  I was tempted to tell her that backrubs are nice, but look for a guy who's going to be around to help you out of the hot tub when you're my age and don't fit into a bikini, or be willing to trudge around the channel pool, getting splashed by obnoxious children, just to try to get you healthy enough to stay around a few more years.  That's a guy worth keeping.

I'm back and running

Thank goodness for emergency back-up husband #1 (otherwise known as Kevin the computer-whisperer).  Mad as hell at Comcast - they were less than helpful to say the least.  I'm seriously thinking about switching, but the whole objection to DirecTV still exists (I don't want to lose service to rain), but it would still be better than being without internet for 3 days. 

In other news - I'm starting swimming/channel-walking with Mom to try to get in surgery-strength.  I'm upping it by two laps each time - up to 14 now and my legs feel like noodles tonight (that, and the chlorine in the pool dries my skin out to the point where it feels like there are ants running up and down inside my skin.)

Stand back! I think she's going critical!

Today's rant is brought to you courtesy of Comcast and Kaiser Permanente - both lovely companies, I'm sure, but who really don't have a clue when it comes to automated Customer Service. 

First off - Comcast.  I have my phone, internet and cable all bundled through them (I know, I could probably get it cheaper somewhere else, but I tried DirectTV and I kept losing my TV every time there was a heavy rain or it got windy.  I live in Oregon, where the two seasons are the rainy season and July 14th, and I live right off the west end of the Columbia Gorge, better known as the wind tunnel of the great Northwet..  That's a non-starter.) 

I've been having this intermittent issue where the modem suddenly decides that it can't see my wireless router and I lose internet service (and occasionally my phone line).  It's frustrating, but I've been able to get through by cycling the modem and the router and blahblahblahblah... anyway, today I'd finally had it and wanted to get the darn thing fixed.  So, I break down and call Comcast.  Why did it take me so long to call?  Because I knew what I was going to have to go through to get to a live person.  First off, I'm calling from my home line - the one they provide me with.  They still require me to jump through hoops to get to anyone.  First, I have to provide them with the last four digits of my account number.  Quick, off the top of your head, without being able to access the internet (because it's down, of course), do you know the last four digits of a random utility account number that you autopay every month?  Then, of course, I have to listen to them yammer on about how I can check the status of the internet service by going to comcast.com - yeah, did I mention that I'm calling BECAUSE MY INTERNET DOESN'T WORK?  And it's not like this is a random thing they throw in on every line - this bit doesn't come up until after I tell this computer that my internet isn't working.  Then, of course, because they still don't trust that this person who is calling in on my phone line, which they provided to me, is actually me, I have to give them my home address, the last four numbers of my SSN and the name of my unborn firstborn child. All before I actually talk to someone, who is then going to have to pass me along to the second level customer service because frankly at this point, I know more about my modem than they do.  A second level customer service rep who has to ask me for my name, address and SSN yet again.  This is not customer service.  This is customer prevention.  On the other hand, Matthew (who had a lovely southern accent) was a peach and did his best to fix my problem, then when he realized my modem is possessed by Satan, was happy to set up someone to come out tomorrow.  That part of the customer service was lovely...

As for Kaiser - I can't complain all that much about them, they're keeping me alive.  But considering the fact that they are keeping me alive, and that they know damn well all my medical issues, don't send me a yearly personalized computer letter saying "Do you know you need a pap smear, and that you should have your A1C checked, and that you should get a BMI screening" (seriously, a BMI screening?  I've lost 145 pounds this year - what do they want from me, carving off a couple of butt cheeks?)    Then the computer has the nerve to finish up with "Managing your health is important to us.  This is a personalized summary of your health care needs".  No, it's not a personalized summary - or they would know that I have a form of uterine cancer that isn't detectible by a pap smear, and I had a A1C screening in mid-March.  Kim, who keeps watch on me and cheerleads for me, or my own Dr Wang, who answers my emails even when I'm a little incoherent  - they are personalized care and I love and appreciate them.  A random listing of tests that are not even checked with my chart - that's just an annoyance that's perpetrated so that Kaiser Corporate can cross off some "proactive health agenda" list.  Don't try to think it's customer service - I'm not the one getting served here.

It's not Hollywood romantic

It's not Hollywood romantic, lying here next to you. 
For one thing, there's Moose the weiner-block, shoved up between us, zealously guarding his status as an only child.  And I'm pretty sure that Hollywood would never approve a heroine wearing a breathing-mask that makes her sound like Darth Vader - whooshing breath sounds that are only drowned out by the dual snores coming from both man and Moose. 

But every once in a while, when the alarm blares out, we manage to carve out 9 minutes where we are curled together in a cocoon of warmth, and I can feel our breathing in perfect unison.  Your arm is protective around me, keeping back the horrors of the coming morning, and that... right there.  It's not Hollywood romantic, but it's so much better. 

Not-So-Happy Anniversary, Hank.

It's a year.  It's been an interesting year, but at least I made it through, and I'm intending to keep making it through, so... (close your eyes, family and anyone who still thinks of me as a delicate flower) F you, Hank, and the cancerous cells you rode in on.

Eat hearty, dude - you're going down!

Next step - getting my heart in shape for surgery, finding out what the hell is causing my fatigue and beating that, and trying to get my blood sugar back under control.  Three days with a half-dose of the Megace, and I seem to be ok, so I'm hoping that will help, but I woke up last night around 2:00 with a blood-sugar level of 69, so there's still going to be some fine tuning involved.  My doctor spun this as a positive thing - if Hank is to start growing, at least I'm at the point now where they can get him out, but they just want to optimize my chances of being healthy after the surgery - but I'm still having a hard time getting over the disappointment. But I will. 

Placeholder Post

I'll write more later, but for tonight, I'm emotionally wiped out and heading for bed.  Just wanted to let anyone following along not on facebook know that the Dr. appointment did not quite go the way I hoped it would (still no surgery date), but I'm battling past the disappointment and trying to take this as a good thing.  Basically, right now, since Hank isn't redecorating yet and is choosing to play relatively nice with others, she wants to work on getting me healthier so that I have a better shot at surviving the surgery - work on trying to figure out what's causing this extreme fatigue and see if cutting back on the Megace will help me get my blood sugar under better control.  I'll see her again around the first of June, and we'll see what happens then.

Updatish...

Tomorrow is the day... I'm meeting with Dr. Steiner, and finding out when I will be going under the knife (and which kind of knife it's going to be.)  I'm a tad freaked out tonight - ok, I'm tremendously freaked out.  Spending the last year on knife-edge, waiting... it's not that I don't want to move on, it's just that I've gotten comfortable on this knife-edge.  Well, not exactly comfortable, but I know how to react here, I know where I am, I know this space.  And I really, really hate change. 

On the other hand, I want to get Hank out of me.  I think I hate Hank more than I hate change.  But that's going to be hard, and painful, and involve a lot of change.  It's not like I'm going to not do this, but I'm just feeling scared.  And tired.  But mostly scared.

Electronics have been forsaking me lately

Lately, we've been having problems with our cable modem box, so I was excited when I went to log in to work this morning and the internet was doing well - until I went to call my boss and I had no dial tone.  Finally fixed the phone, at which point, the internet buggered off.  Got them both in working order and now my Kindle is freaking out.  Apparently, the Goddess Electronica is not happy with the current sacrifice material - I may need a fresher batch of hamsters.  All in all, good time to go to bed.  Goodnight, all.