So it's been a few weeks. Let's catch up here.
1. The Bolero: Finished, not in time for Convocation, but all I have to do is sew up the seams. It's at home waiting for me after work this morning.
2. Kid #2's hat: Just putting the edging on it now. I was going to do a whack of I-cord and then sew it on, but I thought that I might want to do what the pattern says (boring?) just to see how it turns out - and I wasn't sure how the I-cord would work.
3. Is it bad when you're looking at the yarn that's left and thinking, "Wow, a really simple rolled brim hat!"??
4. Cardiac stuff: The guy at Northwestern said to hang tight with the meds for now. He said I'd have to come back twice with EITHER procedure, because "we don't want to nick your esophagus or the top of your lung." I don't want you to do that either! Those parts work, and I'd like to keep it that way.
5. My Website: For the editing stuff and the voice-over work - we just have to decide on which provider we want to use. Hubby did a FANTASTIC job on it, and when it's live, I'll post the link.
6. Weight-loss: Well, the "Metabolism Miracle" is helping. I'm about 20 lbs. down, and I really feel good. I told my yoga teacher that I almost "whooped" in class. We were doing child's pose and it was the first time in YEARS that when I was in the pose, my CHEST was on my thighs instead of my belly. She's happy with this program because she said it looks like I'm "glowing" and not drawn or saggy-looking (as if I was on a crash diet or eating the wrong things).
7. New Chiropractor: So, my plantar fasciitis never really healed up after the Avon Walk, and it's gotten to the point where my friend Lori the Podiatrist said she really couldn't do anything more from her end. So I sought acupuncture to at least relieve some of the pain, but the doc (also a chiropractor and medical massage therapist) says that he'd rather work on getting my foot "right" and then use acupuncture if necessary. I have never had a "medical massage" but I have been adjusted. He pointed out that now, even though I can touch my toes, I'm bending funny and my hips are out of line (which I could feel). After he got done working over both calves, I felt like cooked linguine, but oh my.... I have noticed a difference. I'm excited to get this all fixed, and equally excited that he's in my insurance plan!
8. Upcoming Election: PLEASE REGISTER TO VOTE!! Go to the Google. Type in "register to vote" plus your state. Find out the deadlines, do your homework, and GET READY TO VOTE. I'm patently and obviously a liberal-progressive-tree-hugging-Democrat. And I really do want "our side" to win. But aside from that, it really irks me that people in some districts (You know who you are, Ohio) are screwing with everyone's right to vote. EVERYONE who is eligible should be able to vote easily and I can't believe we're going back to the Jim Crow era. Please make sure your registration is in order; help someone who's not sure of the process; offer to drive to the polls. Get involved. We have the right and we need to exercise it, regardless of HOW you vote. It's important that you DO vote.
9. Abortion Rights: Really? Hang on...let me check. Yep, it's 2012. Women have been part and parcel of society since Eve ate the apple. We have the right to vote. We work. We raise families. But a group of uber-religious men want to tell us that we don't have the right to make the choice. I'm also blatantly pro-choice - which does not mean I'm pro-abortion. It means that I am in favor of our God-given right to make up our own minds. What does the Bible say? (I figure since we're being thumped over the head with it, we may as well use it...) God gave us free will. It's not my job to be God. It's my job to be there for you, to ask questions, to help you make sure that your decision is right for YOU. Not right for ME or right for some Republican conservative who won't ever know the impact the decision will have on you, because he's not living your life. Abortion rights are needed. What's not needed is men shoving women backward. As women, we need to shove back. If you weren't born with a vagina, you really don't have a stake in this fight.
10. The Garden: Well, I'm not sure we'll be overrun with tomatoes; they're coming steadily but not in great numbers or great size. Carrots? Well, yeah, THOSE are coming along like crazy. And my friend Shaun brought me a bag of backyard peaches. We're making peach preserves today. I hate peach preserves, but I know people who love them, so what the heck, right? I'd rather use them than toss them. If I can find the fruit without having a heart attack, we may also do strawberry jam. And I think we still have sour cherries - that would make a lovely sauce over ice cream, don't you think?
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Pink Shoes Day...
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| Blessed Rain!! |
In a moment that was totally outside my norm, I bought, for a wedding, a pair of pink tennis shoes. Granted, this was a wedding reception that was being held at a bar with a beach volleyball court...but I figured I needed something "zingy" that wouldn't require me wearing heels of any sort. Since I was also making the cake, I wanted to be able to carry it to the table without the danger of falling over myself. So I bought pink tennis shoes and a raspberry-colored straw bag to carry with me. I thought it was pretty spiffy looking, if I do say so myself.
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| Jodie's cake |
Anyway, they got married lo those many years ago on a cruise, and then had a reception for those of us who couldn't attend the wedding.
Back to the pink shoes - I've worn them several times since. Always get comments on them, and I'm not sure if it's more like "Good grief - a woman HER age wearing those?" or "Good on her for wearing those." But I really don't care. They're comfy and they make me happy.
There's gotta be some sort of zing of color in a grey day like today, right?
At the moment, we're between rain storms. We've probably got another several hours of rain, and like I said, it's nice to see that. Could do without the sound-and-light show, however. Particularly since I don't like thunderstorms, and the east wall of my office is actually a window...
I didn't bring my knitting to work today, which is probably a good thing. It would've gotten drenched...so I'm reading at lunch. I'll be up and around checking on our IT department, who're redoing our computer lab, and I'm busy kicking "pillbugs" out of my office.
First, the bug guy said they were coming inside because of the drought. He re-sprayed and they went away for a while. Now, with the recent few rainstorms, they're coming in because it's dry in here?? Anyway, they're marching in like a herd of elephants, and we're vacuuming them up as fast as we can every morning. Our cleaner has taken to counting them!
So in honor of today's rain and in light of the fact that I'm kind of bored with my usual "neutral" dress, I'm wearing my pink shoes and trying to bring some "bright" in the "grey." Every once in a while, it's good for me to get out of the usual "beige" and "grey" that I usually wear. Today, I'm not going to blend into the wall.
Wednesday, August 08, 2012
The Bolero Project
I have finally had it with baby blankets. Nobody else can reproduce for at least a year. Seriously.
And I hate, hate H-A-T-E my Knit-along sweater. I haven't even assembled it because I'm still disgusted. I mean, my mom will have a lovely sweater. That part I don't mind, but I kind of do mind, because I made this thing for me, and it wouldn't fit me if I gave up eating...
That being said, I did dig a little in the stash pile and found the Yin Yang Bolero by Knit One Crochet Too. You should check out their patterns; they're very cute. I have their "Blueberry Tee" that's in the stash, about 1/2 done, but I thought the bolero would be a nice change.
They made it in two distinct colors (each side is a different color) but I chose two of them that were kind of close together. I have a totally fun fish button for it, and I plan to wear it by the end of this month.
Here's what I have so far. I've started on the back - you knit each side from the bottom up, and then join them at the back, knitting across.
You can see that the yarns I have, color 672 and color 631, are rather close together. There's enough purple and blue in each to make them sort of look like they match. I didn't want to do the green they suggested, though the 631 was one of the pattern colors.
It's going to be short, in spite of me adding 4 rows at the very bottom, prior to starting the increases. But that's ok. I can wear it with an un-tucked t-shirt or a turtleneck if I want. I've recently found my waistline and I think this won't look too boxy.
I had a little trouble with the "joining" in the back because the instructions weren't exactly clear. And what I did was just knit the 2 colors together. I don't think it'll look odd; so far it seems to just be a little "tweedy" at that point. And if you're that close to my back? We'd better know each other!!
The buttonhole they had was a yarn-over and it absolutely was not going to fit the fish. Here's the fish. I wanted a colorway that was kind of "beachy at sunset" looking, and I wanted a fun button. The fish is a wooden one, so it's going to be hand-washed or using a dryer product just so the button won't get ruined. The yarn is 100% cotton, and surprisingly heavy.
So, I changed the length a tad, changed the buttonhole, and along the way, learned a new skill: the vertical buttonhole.
Now I've done yarnover buttonholes...most of the time they've been mistakes! But this buttonhole thing was serious, and I did a little looking around to see what I liked. I ended up with this one out of a knitting book, I think Maggie Righetti's "Knitting in Plain English" but I can't remember. Anyway, it was easy, once I got over the thought of breaking yarn and knitting it up that way. But it wasn't that big of a deal. The pattern calls for 2 balls each of the colors, and luckily, ball #2 of the appropriate color started on the colorway I was in the middle of! Whew!
So this is my buttonhole. I'm rather proud of myself.
I also learned "Work as for left front, reversing all shapings." Yikes...That took a little bending of my mind. I thought, "Oh, I'll just do another left front." Not really. I had to think that all the shapings which initially were done on the right side of the work were now to be done on the wrong side. Luckily, the pattern is entirely knitted, so it's rather mindless when you come down to it.
As usual, it's all in my knitting journal. One of these days, if I'm lucky enough to see the Yarn Harlot in person, I hope to bring her at least one of my knitting journals and have her sign it for me.
Knitting journals are weird things. Some knitters (not me) can just knit a pattern and keep a few scribbles on the pattern itself. Some can do it all in their heads (!) and don't have to write anything down or keep track of what row they're on or what they've modified. That would not be me.
I write things down. A lot. In detail. Excruciating detail, some might say. But I can't seem to function otherwise -- I mean unless it's a scarf or something. And I keep a ball band and a scrap of the yarn in the journal, too. It's like a diary of where I'm at as a knitter. Or as ample record of my anal-retentive characteristics. Or a record of the fact that I need instructions to do the same thing twice!
Either way, the journals are helpful. I have about 3 of them in current circulation, plus some paper from my old Franklin planners that I have attached to patterns. Those will make it into the appropriate journal at some time. Or perhaps it'll just be stuck on the pattern and the pattern put back into the binder. You never know. If I actually do make the same thing twice (it's happened - the Liberty Wool mitts are on version #3 for MIL - I didn't like the second pair to give to her, but that's another blog entry), this is a good way to track what I did, particularly since sometimes little quirks develop.
The hash-mark row counting was what I learned from my second knitting teacher. My first, my grandma, could count in her head. I didn't stick with knitting long enough for that to work its way into my brain, and my second teacher (a now-deceased talented knitter named Dorothy) was a fan of "hashing" - she didn't even like the katchas (mechanical row counters). So I got into that habit. And with Sonda, knitting teacher #3, it just stuck. Sonda actually used my notebooks as an inspiration to a knitter who'd had a stroke and was having trouble.
The woman was one of those "in my head" knitters and she was horribly upset about being unable to do that after the stroke. I remember Sonda picking up my notebook, and telling the lady, "Look -- she does it and she hasn't had a stroke. You have to do what works for you now and then go from there."
So. The journals work for me now. Hopefully, the bolero will come out on time and fit ok. It all comes together eventually, I suppose. And if the bolero DOESN'T work... well, it'll fit my sister.
And I hate, hate H-A-T-E my Knit-along sweater. I haven't even assembled it because I'm still disgusted. I mean, my mom will have a lovely sweater. That part I don't mind, but I kind of do mind, because I made this thing for me, and it wouldn't fit me if I gave up eating...
That being said, I did dig a little in the stash pile and found the Yin Yang Bolero by Knit One Crochet Too. You should check out their patterns; they're very cute. I have their "Blueberry Tee" that's in the stash, about 1/2 done, but I thought the bolero would be a nice change.
They made it in two distinct colors (each side is a different color) but I chose two of them that were kind of close together. I have a totally fun fish button for it, and I plan to wear it by the end of this month.
You can see that the yarns I have, color 672 and color 631, are rather close together. There's enough purple and blue in each to make them sort of look like they match. I didn't want to do the green they suggested, though the 631 was one of the pattern colors.
It's going to be short, in spite of me adding 4 rows at the very bottom, prior to starting the increases. But that's ok. I can wear it with an un-tucked t-shirt or a turtleneck if I want. I've recently found my waistline and I think this won't look too boxy.
I had a little trouble with the "joining" in the back because the instructions weren't exactly clear. And what I did was just knit the 2 colors together. I don't think it'll look odd; so far it seems to just be a little "tweedy" at that point. And if you're that close to my back? We'd better know each other!!
So, I changed the length a tad, changed the buttonhole, and along the way, learned a new skill: the vertical buttonhole.
Now I've done yarnover buttonholes...most of the time they've been mistakes! But this buttonhole thing was serious, and I did a little looking around to see what I liked. I ended up with this one out of a knitting book, I think Maggie Righetti's "Knitting in Plain English" but I can't remember. Anyway, it was easy, once I got over the thought of breaking yarn and knitting it up that way. But it wasn't that big of a deal. The pattern calls for 2 balls each of the colors, and luckily, ball #2 of the appropriate color started on the colorway I was in the middle of! Whew!So this is my buttonhole. I'm rather proud of myself.
I also learned "Work as for left front, reversing all shapings." Yikes...That took a little bending of my mind. I thought, "Oh, I'll just do another left front." Not really. I had to think that all the shapings which initially were done on the right side of the work were now to be done on the wrong side. Luckily, the pattern is entirely knitted, so it's rather mindless when you come down to it.
As usual, it's all in my knitting journal. One of these days, if I'm lucky enough to see the Yarn Harlot in person, I hope to bring her at least one of my knitting journals and have her sign it for me.
Knitting journals are weird things. Some knitters (not me) can just knit a pattern and keep a few scribbles on the pattern itself. Some can do it all in their heads (!) and don't have to write anything down or keep track of what row they're on or what they've modified. That would not be me.
Either way, the journals are helpful. I have about 3 of them in current circulation, plus some paper from my old Franklin planners that I have attached to patterns. Those will make it into the appropriate journal at some time. Or perhaps it'll just be stuck on the pattern and the pattern put back into the binder. You never know. If I actually do make the same thing twice (it's happened - the Liberty Wool mitts are on version #3 for MIL - I didn't like the second pair to give to her, but that's another blog entry), this is a good way to track what I did, particularly since sometimes little quirks develop. The hash-mark row counting was what I learned from my second knitting teacher. My first, my grandma, could count in her head. I didn't stick with knitting long enough for that to work its way into my brain, and my second teacher (a now-deceased talented knitter named Dorothy) was a fan of "hashing" - she didn't even like the katchas (mechanical row counters). So I got into that habit. And with Sonda, knitting teacher #3, it just stuck. Sonda actually used my notebooks as an inspiration to a knitter who'd had a stroke and was having trouble.
The woman was one of those "in my head" knitters and she was horribly upset about being unable to do that after the stroke. I remember Sonda picking up my notebook, and telling the lady, "Look -- she does it and she hasn't had a stroke. You have to do what works for you now and then go from there."
So. The journals work for me now. Hopefully, the bolero will come out on time and fit ok. It all comes together eventually, I suppose. And if the bolero DOESN'T work... well, it'll fit my sister.
Saturday, August 04, 2012
"Biblical Marriage" Concept...
Well, with the recent Chick-Fil-A crap going on, I figured I'd just mention something obvious, that I learned in church last week...
The conservatives ramble on and on and on about marriage being "sacred" and "between one man and one woman." We'll leave the majority of the biblical citations alone - those showing that a man can have more than one wife (simultaneously) and is entitled to lie with his concubines, his slaves, prisoners of war, etc. Those are just "piffle" compared to the conservatives' strong moral assertion that marriage is SACRED, BY GOD, AND WE ARE THE STANDARD-BEARERS.
This inspite of so many Republican politicians being "caught with their toes tapping in the bathroom" among other things. And they don't resign. They keep going - which amazes me, because it serves that old adage, I guess. "If you repeat a lie long enough it becomes the truth." So conversely, if you ignore the willful disregard for the "sanctity" of their own marriages, then I suppose their constituents can as well. Remember, Newtie Patootie said he was compelled to have multiple affairs because of his "patriotism." And now as a converted Catholic, he and Calista (wife and former mistress while prior wife was dying of cancer) are paragons. I guess.
Anyway, on to church. We have recently been attending St. John the Evangelist Episcopal Church and have truly enjoyed the switch from Catholic to Episcopal. It was a little strange at first, but we have rarely felt so welcomed and so embraced.
So we went last Sunday and the first lesson (First Reading in Catholic) was 2 Samuel 11:1-15... which I am telling you now that I absolutely do not remember in all my zillion years as a Catholic. At least not in this fashion.
This reading tells about David and Bathsheba. The following part caught my eye: "...he saw from the roof a woman bathing; the woman was very beautiful. David sent someone to inquire about the woman. It was reported, "This is Bathsheba daughter of Eliam, the wife of Uriah the Hittite." So David sent messengers to get her, and she came to him, and he lay with her. (Now she was purifying herself after her period.) Then she returned to her house..."
Wowza. Period and extramarital sex all in a few sentences. And then, farther along in the reading, David gets Uriah drunk so he and Bathsheba can play footsie together, Bathsheba becoming pregnant after the first round of sex. Then, David --- who, if you remember, is the David who slew Goliath, the poet, the writer of psalms.... David sends a letter, delivered to the battle commander by Uriah, who was apparently illiterate. The letter said "Set Uriah in the forefront of the hardest fighting, and then draw back from him, so that he may be struck down and die."
Add "murderer" to that glowing description of David.
My point is this. Well, two points. First, I've never quite heard this version, though I've seen the Hollywood movie. Second, let's add this to the pantheon of verses that really rather bash traditional marriage. I'm pretty sure Uriah wasn't keen on just letting Bathsheba go. Cultural differences of which I may be ignorant may play in here --- David was the Big Cheese. Perhaps whatever (or whoever) he wanted, he got and Uriah didn't have a choice.
But let's just suppose for the sake of argument that Bathsheba and Uriah were for the most part, contentedly married. Then, some Big Cheese summons her out of her purifying bath (sorry, the period thing still kind of blows my mind) and has sex with her. She's married. He knows that. And he goes ahead with his own selfish wants and desires.
This hardly sounds like a good biblical argument for 'traditional marriage.' It sounds like those folks were pretty randy and surely not as straight-laced and conservative as today's conservatives would like to portray them - or themselves, for that matter.
Either way, the Bible is open to interpretation. And without doing too much scholarly thinking, I'm thinking David didn't exactly respect the "traditional" marriage. He didn't have any qualms about seeking out a woman he wanted. And getting her. And then killing off her husband, if not by his own hand, by his own command.
This section alone kind of blows the conservatives' argument out of the water. And it's not the only one.
Gay marriage will happen in some form or another. There's so much science out there proving that it's not a "lifestyle" but a biological trait. It seems that with our economy in a snail's-pace recovery, a huge budget battle looming, wars on 2 fronts... with all that going on, Congress and the conservatives have this stuff to argue about?
How about, just for fun, you folks get the jobs done that we need you to get done? Oh, maybe they really ARE, since Mitch McConnell said that his job was to make President Obama a one-term president. But I think that with the "do-nothing congress" we're now seeing, Mitch may be sweeping out some of his buddies with that same broom. People are fed up with the wrangling and lack of action.
I think - and I hope - that we're past looking at the shiny objects distracting us, and we're paying attention to what matters: getting our country going again. Moving forward instead of staying in limbo arguing about stuff that in the end won't change anything.
The conservatives ramble on and on and on about marriage being "sacred" and "between one man and one woman." We'll leave the majority of the biblical citations alone - those showing that a man can have more than one wife (simultaneously) and is entitled to lie with his concubines, his slaves, prisoners of war, etc. Those are just "piffle" compared to the conservatives' strong moral assertion that marriage is SACRED, BY GOD, AND WE ARE THE STANDARD-BEARERS.
This inspite of so many Republican politicians being "caught with their toes tapping in the bathroom" among other things. And they don't resign. They keep going - which amazes me, because it serves that old adage, I guess. "If you repeat a lie long enough it becomes the truth." So conversely, if you ignore the willful disregard for the "sanctity" of their own marriages, then I suppose their constituents can as well. Remember, Newtie Patootie said he was compelled to have multiple affairs because of his "patriotism." And now as a converted Catholic, he and Calista (wife and former mistress while prior wife was dying of cancer) are paragons. I guess.
Anyway, on to church. We have recently been attending St. John the Evangelist Episcopal Church and have truly enjoyed the switch from Catholic to Episcopal. It was a little strange at first, but we have rarely felt so welcomed and so embraced.
So we went last Sunday and the first lesson (First Reading in Catholic) was 2 Samuel 11:1-15... which I am telling you now that I absolutely do not remember in all my zillion years as a Catholic. At least not in this fashion.
This reading tells about David and Bathsheba. The following part caught my eye: "...he saw from the roof a woman bathing; the woman was very beautiful. David sent someone to inquire about the woman. It was reported, "This is Bathsheba daughter of Eliam, the wife of Uriah the Hittite." So David sent messengers to get her, and she came to him, and he lay with her. (Now she was purifying herself after her period.) Then she returned to her house..."
Wowza. Period and extramarital sex all in a few sentences. And then, farther along in the reading, David gets Uriah drunk so he and Bathsheba can play footsie together, Bathsheba becoming pregnant after the first round of sex. Then, David --- who, if you remember, is the David who slew Goliath, the poet, the writer of psalms.... David sends a letter, delivered to the battle commander by Uriah, who was apparently illiterate. The letter said "Set Uriah in the forefront of the hardest fighting, and then draw back from him, so that he may be struck down and die."
Add "murderer" to that glowing description of David.
My point is this. Well, two points. First, I've never quite heard this version, though I've seen the Hollywood movie. Second, let's add this to the pantheon of verses that really rather bash traditional marriage. I'm pretty sure Uriah wasn't keen on just letting Bathsheba go. Cultural differences of which I may be ignorant may play in here --- David was the Big Cheese. Perhaps whatever (or whoever) he wanted, he got and Uriah didn't have a choice.
But let's just suppose for the sake of argument that Bathsheba and Uriah were for the most part, contentedly married. Then, some Big Cheese summons her out of her purifying bath (sorry, the period thing still kind of blows my mind) and has sex with her. She's married. He knows that. And he goes ahead with his own selfish wants and desires.
This hardly sounds like a good biblical argument for 'traditional marriage.' It sounds like those folks were pretty randy and surely not as straight-laced and conservative as today's conservatives would like to portray them - or themselves, for that matter.
Either way, the Bible is open to interpretation. And without doing too much scholarly thinking, I'm thinking David didn't exactly respect the "traditional" marriage. He didn't have any qualms about seeking out a woman he wanted. And getting her. And then killing off her husband, if not by his own hand, by his own command.
This section alone kind of blows the conservatives' argument out of the water. And it's not the only one.
Gay marriage will happen in some form or another. There's so much science out there proving that it's not a "lifestyle" but a biological trait. It seems that with our economy in a snail's-pace recovery, a huge budget battle looming, wars on 2 fronts... with all that going on, Congress and the conservatives have this stuff to argue about?
How about, just for fun, you folks get the jobs done that we need you to get done? Oh, maybe they really ARE, since Mitch McConnell said that his job was to make President Obama a one-term president. But I think that with the "do-nothing congress" we're now seeing, Mitch may be sweeping out some of his buddies with that same broom. People are fed up with the wrangling and lack of action.
I think - and I hope - that we're past looking at the shiny objects distracting us, and we're paying attention to what matters: getting our country going again. Moving forward instead of staying in limbo arguing about stuff that in the end won't change anything.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Gun Control Discussion...
Politicians are busy this season avoiding any hard discussions about the reality for the need of gun control. Nobody wants to "anger the base." However, it's a discussion that is literally the 800-lb. gorilla in the room. It needs to be had, hang the "base."
Just as an aside, the alternate definition of "base" is "lowly" -- as in "lowest common denominator." So politicans appealing "to the base" are appealing to those voters who usually are one-issue voters, vote without educating themselves, and are usually also the "vocal minority." Squeaky wheel, and all that.
There is no God-given right to own a gun. If you can cite a source in the bible that says you can own an AK-47 (or an AR-15) with an extended clip, I'd like to see that. The Second Amendment, vaunted as the 'be-all and end-all' of the gun discussion, also doesn't mention any right to own a gun conferred by God.
Actually, the Second Amendment (as ratified by the States and authenticated by then-Secretary of State, Thomas Jefferson) reads as follows: A well regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed.
Since so many people insist on "strict interpretation" rather than realizing that our Constitution is a living document meant to be deliberately vague for the growth of this nation, we'll go that route.
So... No "God" in that Amendment at all. There goes that argument. Then there's the phrase "well regulated militia" -- a militia, in the strict definition, is "a reserve military force that is on call for service only in an emergency." (Webster's II, third ed.) So, let's look at the last part of that definition: on call for service only in an emergency. Is your argument that you are part of a "reserve military force" so you are required to own a gun? Is your argument that there's always an emergency? That's a little paranoid. An individual is not a part of a reserve military force in 2012. In the late 1700s? Well, yeah. There were no organized police forces; the military was just being put together. People lived in agrarian areas far from their nearest neighbor, unless they lived in a town - which was usually remote from the next one. I can drive to the next town over. Heck, I can walk down the block and across one street and be in the next town. In 1787, for example, I had to get on a horse or in a wagon to go to the next town. A militia in this case was necessary because I couldn't exactly dial up the cops when someone was robbing me or breaking into my house. A gun was necessary when it was me or the wolves. A gun was necessary for me to get my dinner, since we didn't have the local Jewel 2 miles from my house.
And let's look at the next phrase "necessary to the security of a free state." Well, there's the hole in your argument. We have a police force. We have a military, and a National Guard. The "free state" is usually relatively protected. All of us go about our business unscathed, and we don't have to be worried about Indians coming around the corner to ambush our settlements. We have modern communications: if we need official protection, we call 911 and people who are actually trained in protection will come to our aid.
The phrase "the right of the people to bear arms shall not be infringed" is also worth some discussion. Again, no God. But if you look at this without the "crazy-eyed" notion that someone is going to take your guns away, you can see that the Founders didn't want us to stockpile our own arsenals. You may have a Constitutional right to bear arms, but do you really, really need an automatic weapon with an extended clip?
And to those who say, "Oh, if the folks on Colorado were armed, they'd have stopped the shooter"... I have 2 words for you: FORT HOOD.
If you recall, in Ft. Hood, a crazy gunman shot people on an ARMY BASE. Where they routinely CARRY weapons. And they're trained to deal with them properly: they know how and when to shoot. And still, 13 people were killed by one guy. Who had access to "the most technologically advanced weapon on the market and the one with the highest magazine capacity." He told the gun store owner, who asked a logical question ("How do you intend to use this weapon?") that he "simply wanted the most advanced handgun with the largest magazine capacity." He also was able to return to the store on a weekly basis (red flag much??) to purchase extra magazines and hundreds of rounds of ... ammunition. (Wikipedia, accessed 7/26/12) When he was finally apprehended, he had in his pockets 177 rounds of unfired ammunition in both 20- and 30-round magazines.
In a logical world, you don't need that kind of capacity. Unless you're in uniform and deployed to war, or a cop. And I'd even question the cops having that amount of firepower on a "normal" basis.
I have a crazy right-wing uncle. Otherwise intelligent, a gun collector, hunter and absolutely rabid in his assertion that this president can 'take away the Second Amendment.' Procedurally, that's not correct. A president can't unilaterally make any changes to the Constitution. Period. That's how the Founders wanted it. Amazingly, they knew they didn't want to give that much power to one person. You won't find that factoid in any talking points, though, because it's much more effective to promote the agenda that "the black guy in the White House will be taking your guns away."
The only thing I agree with about this uncle is that he's equally as rabid about gun safety. His guns are stored in a locked safe. His ammunition is stored in a totally different safe. He hunts, but usually with a bow and arrow, because "it doesn't give me an unfair advantage against the animal." When asked about semi-automatic weapons and hunting, his comment is, "Why would you want to ruin the meat?" He hunts for food, not for trophies.
I'll give him that. But otherwise, he's kind of a crazy-gun-guy and is determined to have an arsenal. Some of his weapons are historical in nature, but quite a few of them are modern weapons. Be that as it may, every year, he requalifies through a gun safety course. And he makes sure that his hunting buddies, and his family, also do that before he'll go anywhere near them with a weapon (like to the shooting range or to hunt).
We need to address the very basic gorilla (maybe a chimp?) -- you don't have to "restrict" the ability to own a gun. But you do have to regulate it. People with mental problems do not need guns. People with criminal records do not need guns. People who amass arsenals need to have a chat with authorities. These are common-sense regulations. They will help keep people safe.
In the movie theatre, one politican said that "if everyone was armed, it would've been over." OK: picture this. Darkened movie theatre. Assailant in full body armor. He tosses tear gas. Crowded and closely-packed area. People pull out guns, they're blinded by tear gas, and they randomly shoot. C'mon, use logic. How much collateral damage would've occured? And how could an amateur actually shoot a guy in full body armor?
I owned a gun. A .357 magnum 6-shot. I sold it, because it became more gun than I would ever need. I was a decent shot. But I truly believe that only my crazy uncle or perhaps my brother (who taught me to shoot) might --- just might have been able to make that shot.
When I was studying criminal justice, one of our instructors, a former police officer, gave us "Shoot, Don't Shoot" training. Even those of the students in the law enforcement track were unable to reliably complete the training. Our instructor said something that's stuck with me to this day: "Even well-trained cops can screw this up. Shooting someone is forever. What you do with a gun will haunt you all of your days."
I don't want that responsibility. I don't really want my neighbor to have it either, because I'm convinced that most of us civilians not only "couldn't hit the broad side of a barn" but we're not psychologically ready to make that grave decision to pull the trigger with the realization that what we're doing is forever. Not that all my neighbors are nuts. They're just civilians. They're untrained. They haven't been in the position to have to shoot in self-defense. And I don't think they understand the permanent nature of firing a weapon at another human being.
That doesn't even count the people who really do have psychological issues. If you're on medication for a psychiatric disorder or ailment, you don't need a weapon that could kill you, permanently maim you, or hurt someone else. You just can't deal with it. Period. Cold hard fact.
If you're a criminal, even if it was a "non-violent" crime, you've abrogated your right to have a gun. You broke the law. You're done. Period. Cold hard fact.
If you do decide you need a gun, you really do need to get training - and not from some clerk wanting to make a sale. You need to have real training in what you're getting yourself into. Buy only the gun you need. And normally, honestly? That's a rifle to hunt with and a handgun if you feel like you need the protection. And neither of those needs to be an automatic with a large magazine.
If you want to go the "carry" route, then let's do away with "concealed" carry. Wear it proud, folks. Why have a criminal "think" that you "may" be carrying. Own it. But be prepared that statistics show that a person wearing a weapon has a better-than-even chance of having his or her weapon used against them. Do you really want to be shot by your own gun?
The politicans have to grow a spine and address the 800-lb. gorilla. It needs to be done because we're already almost "out of the news cycle" where we'll forget what has happened in Colorado. Tell me honestly, did Ft. Hood even cross your mind till I wrote those words? Nope. Because we're easily distracted by shiny objects. Our politicians and news media have made us that way. We don't bother to do our own independent thinking and we rely on "authorities" to tell us what to think and what to say.
The Founders, I'm sure, wanted a thinking nation. A nation unafraid to deal with the tough issues. And a people brave enough to know when to say "Enough" -- and make a brave change to ensure the fundamental safety of all of us.
Just as an aside, the alternate definition of "base" is "lowly" -- as in "lowest common denominator." So politicans appealing "to the base" are appealing to those voters who usually are one-issue voters, vote without educating themselves, and are usually also the "vocal minority." Squeaky wheel, and all that.
There is no God-given right to own a gun. If you can cite a source in the bible that says you can own an AK-47 (or an AR-15) with an extended clip, I'd like to see that. The Second Amendment, vaunted as the 'be-all and end-all' of the gun discussion, also doesn't mention any right to own a gun conferred by God.
Actually, the Second Amendment (as ratified by the States and authenticated by then-Secretary of State, Thomas Jefferson) reads as follows: A well regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed.
Since so many people insist on "strict interpretation" rather than realizing that our Constitution is a living document meant to be deliberately vague for the growth of this nation, we'll go that route.
So... No "God" in that Amendment at all. There goes that argument. Then there's the phrase "well regulated militia" -- a militia, in the strict definition, is "a reserve military force that is on call for service only in an emergency." (Webster's II, third ed.) So, let's look at the last part of that definition: on call for service only in an emergency. Is your argument that you are part of a "reserve military force" so you are required to own a gun? Is your argument that there's always an emergency? That's a little paranoid. An individual is not a part of a reserve military force in 2012. In the late 1700s? Well, yeah. There were no organized police forces; the military was just being put together. People lived in agrarian areas far from their nearest neighbor, unless they lived in a town - which was usually remote from the next one. I can drive to the next town over. Heck, I can walk down the block and across one street and be in the next town. In 1787, for example, I had to get on a horse or in a wagon to go to the next town. A militia in this case was necessary because I couldn't exactly dial up the cops when someone was robbing me or breaking into my house. A gun was necessary when it was me or the wolves. A gun was necessary for me to get my dinner, since we didn't have the local Jewel 2 miles from my house.
And let's look at the next phrase "necessary to the security of a free state." Well, there's the hole in your argument. We have a police force. We have a military, and a National Guard. The "free state" is usually relatively protected. All of us go about our business unscathed, and we don't have to be worried about Indians coming around the corner to ambush our settlements. We have modern communications: if we need official protection, we call 911 and people who are actually trained in protection will come to our aid.
The phrase "the right of the people to bear arms shall not be infringed" is also worth some discussion. Again, no God. But if you look at this without the "crazy-eyed" notion that someone is going to take your guns away, you can see that the Founders didn't want us to stockpile our own arsenals. You may have a Constitutional right to bear arms, but do you really, really need an automatic weapon with an extended clip?
And to those who say, "Oh, if the folks on Colorado were armed, they'd have stopped the shooter"... I have 2 words for you: FORT HOOD.
If you recall, in Ft. Hood, a crazy gunman shot people on an ARMY BASE. Where they routinely CARRY weapons. And they're trained to deal with them properly: they know how and when to shoot. And still, 13 people were killed by one guy. Who had access to "the most technologically advanced weapon on the market and the one with the highest magazine capacity." He told the gun store owner, who asked a logical question ("How do you intend to use this weapon?") that he "simply wanted the most advanced handgun with the largest magazine capacity." He also was able to return to the store on a weekly basis (red flag much??) to purchase extra magazines and hundreds of rounds of ... ammunition. (Wikipedia, accessed 7/26/12) When he was finally apprehended, he had in his pockets 177 rounds of unfired ammunition in both 20- and 30-round magazines.
In a logical world, you don't need that kind of capacity. Unless you're in uniform and deployed to war, or a cop. And I'd even question the cops having that amount of firepower on a "normal" basis.
I have a crazy right-wing uncle. Otherwise intelligent, a gun collector, hunter and absolutely rabid in his assertion that this president can 'take away the Second Amendment.' Procedurally, that's not correct. A president can't unilaterally make any changes to the Constitution. Period. That's how the Founders wanted it. Amazingly, they knew they didn't want to give that much power to one person. You won't find that factoid in any talking points, though, because it's much more effective to promote the agenda that "the black guy in the White House will be taking your guns away."
The only thing I agree with about this uncle is that he's equally as rabid about gun safety. His guns are stored in a locked safe. His ammunition is stored in a totally different safe. He hunts, but usually with a bow and arrow, because "it doesn't give me an unfair advantage against the animal." When asked about semi-automatic weapons and hunting, his comment is, "Why would you want to ruin the meat?" He hunts for food, not for trophies.
I'll give him that. But otherwise, he's kind of a crazy-gun-guy and is determined to have an arsenal. Some of his weapons are historical in nature, but quite a few of them are modern weapons. Be that as it may, every year, he requalifies through a gun safety course. And he makes sure that his hunting buddies, and his family, also do that before he'll go anywhere near them with a weapon (like to the shooting range or to hunt).
We need to address the very basic gorilla (maybe a chimp?) -- you don't have to "restrict" the ability to own a gun. But you do have to regulate it. People with mental problems do not need guns. People with criminal records do not need guns. People who amass arsenals need to have a chat with authorities. These are common-sense regulations. They will help keep people safe.
In the movie theatre, one politican said that "if everyone was armed, it would've been over." OK: picture this. Darkened movie theatre. Assailant in full body armor. He tosses tear gas. Crowded and closely-packed area. People pull out guns, they're blinded by tear gas, and they randomly shoot. C'mon, use logic. How much collateral damage would've occured? And how could an amateur actually shoot a guy in full body armor?
I owned a gun. A .357 magnum 6-shot. I sold it, because it became more gun than I would ever need. I was a decent shot. But I truly believe that only my crazy uncle or perhaps my brother (who taught me to shoot) might --- just might have been able to make that shot.
When I was studying criminal justice, one of our instructors, a former police officer, gave us "Shoot, Don't Shoot" training. Even those of the students in the law enforcement track were unable to reliably complete the training. Our instructor said something that's stuck with me to this day: "Even well-trained cops can screw this up. Shooting someone is forever. What you do with a gun will haunt you all of your days."
I don't want that responsibility. I don't really want my neighbor to have it either, because I'm convinced that most of us civilians not only "couldn't hit the broad side of a barn" but we're not psychologically ready to make that grave decision to pull the trigger with the realization that what we're doing is forever. Not that all my neighbors are nuts. They're just civilians. They're untrained. They haven't been in the position to have to shoot in self-defense. And I don't think they understand the permanent nature of firing a weapon at another human being.
That doesn't even count the people who really do have psychological issues. If you're on medication for a psychiatric disorder or ailment, you don't need a weapon that could kill you, permanently maim you, or hurt someone else. You just can't deal with it. Period. Cold hard fact.
If you're a criminal, even if it was a "non-violent" crime, you've abrogated your right to have a gun. You broke the law. You're done. Period. Cold hard fact.
If you do decide you need a gun, you really do need to get training - and not from some clerk wanting to make a sale. You need to have real training in what you're getting yourself into. Buy only the gun you need. And normally, honestly? That's a rifle to hunt with and a handgun if you feel like you need the protection. And neither of those needs to be an automatic with a large magazine.
If you want to go the "carry" route, then let's do away with "concealed" carry. Wear it proud, folks. Why have a criminal "think" that you "may" be carrying. Own it. But be prepared that statistics show that a person wearing a weapon has a better-than-even chance of having his or her weapon used against them. Do you really want to be shot by your own gun?
The politicans have to grow a spine and address the 800-lb. gorilla. It needs to be done because we're already almost "out of the news cycle" where we'll forget what has happened in Colorado. Tell me honestly, did Ft. Hood even cross your mind till I wrote those words? Nope. Because we're easily distracted by shiny objects. Our politicians and news media have made us that way. We don't bother to do our own independent thinking and we rely on "authorities" to tell us what to think and what to say.
The Founders, I'm sure, wanted a thinking nation. A nation unafraid to deal with the tough issues. And a people brave enough to know when to say "Enough" -- and make a brave change to ensure the fundamental safety of all of us.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Meandering Monday...
OK, so I know I should ("should") be blogging more often, because I know I have wanted to say stuff, but I'm just pffffffth lately. So here goes with a really random list of things I've wanted to say.
1. Penn State: Sorry, not enough. The NCAA should've invoked the "death penalty" on them. The students/coaches at SMU did something rotten to earn theirs, but not NEAR as rotten as allowing a pedophile virtually unlimited access to children. Sure, invoke the fines, pull back scholarships and delete their presence from bowl games -- and YES, move the statue of "St. JoPa" - but more importantly, a "death penalty" will give people pause and give them lots to think about.
2. Health issues: I'm feeling pfffffffffth because (a) it's hotter than a convection oven today and has been for a while -- and I'm not "lizard" like my mom. Not liking the heat. And (b) the medications I'm taking so far lower my heart rate, keep my blood pressure down, and thin my blood. And I'm still having the "joy of Mother Nature's visits" so I'm probably somewhat anemic. Tired much? I swear I have the stamina of a newborn and it's really annoying me.
3. Health update: I have an appointment in August with a specialist at Northwestern Memorial Hospital about the ablation procedure. They're doing a "cryo-balloon ablation" as opposed to a "radio-frequency" procedure. One is hot (RF) and one is cold (cryo). One is 6 hours on a table (RF) and one is about 2 hours (cryo). While I know there are risks on every procedure, to me - the fact that you spend less time "under and out" makes the cryo more appealing, but I've got lots of questions to ask. The ultimate goal, of course, is to fix my heart while it's still in good shape and get me off the meds that make me feel "pffffffffth."
4. Knitting update: I absolutely HATE the sweater!!! It's wrong. The gauge is wrong. The measurements are wrong. It looks like a sweater that would fit a 1o-year-old. And I knitted it according to the "XL" size on the pattern. I'm sure (ahem) that there's some knitter-issue there, but I've heard from some of the other KAL knitters that the yarn was a stinker to work with. I have one skein left, and I'll probably trade it for another color (pink or salmon) and make Kid #1's girlfriend a headband. She's a blonde, so the ivory yarn would just melt into her head.
5. Politics: Does it strike anyone else that Mitt's going to LONDON to hold fundraisers? Yes, they'll be soliciting "American donations" but those folks work for Barclay's Bank. Conflict much? The Citizens United decision is stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. And for SCOTUS to have the gall to claim that there would be "no inherent conflict or corruption" means that those folks need to get out more.
6. Knitting 2: I've started a bolero out of Knit One Crochet Two cotton. It's pretty. And yeah, I've already frogged and started over. Knitting = relaxation, right??? Auggggggggh!!! But it's coming along and I hope to have it done before Convocation, which is our big "start the fall semester" celebration at work. It'll be cute. If it's not 100* in the shade!! It's cropped AND short sleeved, so I'm hoping I can wear it.
7. Tippi's Therapy Work: Well, the Tipster is working out quite nicely at Child Advocacy Center. We have a gig tomorrow that's THREE appointments! I believe she'll do well, as long as we get a break mid-way through for her to eat and decompress a bit. And we start the work at the main campus for "Tuesdays with Tippi" in September. She'll be a busy girl! We'll have that TDIX certification in no time! Not bad for a rescue dog.
8. Knitting 3: Yeah, lots of knitting today. I'm trying to get organized and do a NO MORE SHOPPING approach till I get some projects done. Please, stop laughing!! I'm serious!! I've decided to bag up my projects (those not started and the WIPs*) and pull one out a month. Work on that project for a month (socks don't count if I can get them done quickly) and get some of this whittled down. *WIP is "manufacturing speak" for Work-In-Progress. The other common term is UFO (Un-Finished-Object).
9. Knitting 4: So the boys found "ear-flap" hats they want for Xmas. Blowing a slight hole in my "empty the stash" project... Yes, the yarn is purchased. Yes, they're bagged up. Will start THEM after the bolero.
10. The Garden: So it looks like Hubby's persistent watering has done some good. We have our first batch of tomatoes, and the herbs are weathering the drought. We have a nesting pair of Ruby Throated Hummingbirds, and they visit the feeders regularly (as do the wasps, but we have traps out...). The shallots are done and need to be pulled up, and the carrots are coming along swimmingly. I do, however, have a severe problem with a soil-bound fungus which is totally screwing up my roses. Unfortunately, the only cure is to pull them up, pour on neem oil and then never plant roses in that area again. Bummer. But I think we'll shift over next year to a butterfly-and-hummingbird-friendly garden. I also have a Memorial Garden set up for our dogs who're passed on with solar gazing balls and little monuments. It's a rock garden, and we have St. Francis there. And my Cubs gnome.
11. Ron Santo: Sorry, I was only going to do 10... But Ron Santo was finally (FINALLY) inducted into the Hall of Fame. Could you all have waited any freakin' longer??? The man is dead. He LIVED for Cubs baseball. And he had a pre-steroids record, including him being a diabetic, that should make most younger players hang their heads in shame. I'm so glad he's finally there, but jeeze....You're talking about inducting Sammy Sosa and the other 'roid-heads that are already there, and you leave Santo out in the cold till after his death? Heartless morons. His wife and family were very gracious. And actually, I'm thrilled. Just annoyed at the way it all came down.
1. Penn State: Sorry, not enough. The NCAA should've invoked the "death penalty" on them. The students/coaches at SMU did something rotten to earn theirs, but not NEAR as rotten as allowing a pedophile virtually unlimited access to children. Sure, invoke the fines, pull back scholarships and delete their presence from bowl games -- and YES, move the statue of "St. JoPa" - but more importantly, a "death penalty" will give people pause and give them lots to think about.
2. Health issues: I'm feeling pfffffffffth because (a) it's hotter than a convection oven today and has been for a while -- and I'm not "lizard" like my mom. Not liking the heat. And (b) the medications I'm taking so far lower my heart rate, keep my blood pressure down, and thin my blood. And I'm still having the "joy of Mother Nature's visits" so I'm probably somewhat anemic. Tired much? I swear I have the stamina of a newborn and it's really annoying me.
3. Health update: I have an appointment in August with a specialist at Northwestern Memorial Hospital about the ablation procedure. They're doing a "cryo-balloon ablation" as opposed to a "radio-frequency" procedure. One is hot (RF) and one is cold (cryo). One is 6 hours on a table (RF) and one is about 2 hours (cryo). While I know there are risks on every procedure, to me - the fact that you spend less time "under and out" makes the cryo more appealing, but I've got lots of questions to ask. The ultimate goal, of course, is to fix my heart while it's still in good shape and get me off the meds that make me feel "pffffffffth."
4. Knitting update: I absolutely HATE the sweater!!! It's wrong. The gauge is wrong. The measurements are wrong. It looks like a sweater that would fit a 1o-year-old. And I knitted it according to the "XL" size on the pattern. I'm sure (ahem) that there's some knitter-issue there, but I've heard from some of the other KAL knitters that the yarn was a stinker to work with. I have one skein left, and I'll probably trade it for another color (pink or salmon) and make Kid #1's girlfriend a headband. She's a blonde, so the ivory yarn would just melt into her head.
5. Politics: Does it strike anyone else that Mitt's going to LONDON to hold fundraisers? Yes, they'll be soliciting "American donations" but those folks work for Barclay's Bank. Conflict much? The Citizens United decision is stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. And for SCOTUS to have the gall to claim that there would be "no inherent conflict or corruption" means that those folks need to get out more.
6. Knitting 2: I've started a bolero out of Knit One Crochet Two cotton. It's pretty. And yeah, I've already frogged and started over. Knitting = relaxation, right??? Auggggggggh!!! But it's coming along and I hope to have it done before Convocation, which is our big "start the fall semester" celebration at work. It'll be cute. If it's not 100* in the shade!! It's cropped AND short sleeved, so I'm hoping I can wear it.
7. Tippi's Therapy Work: Well, the Tipster is working out quite nicely at Child Advocacy Center. We have a gig tomorrow that's THREE appointments! I believe she'll do well, as long as we get a break mid-way through for her to eat and decompress a bit. And we start the work at the main campus for "Tuesdays with Tippi" in September. She'll be a busy girl! We'll have that TDIX certification in no time! Not bad for a rescue dog.
8. Knitting 3: Yeah, lots of knitting today. I'm trying to get organized and do a NO MORE SHOPPING approach till I get some projects done. Please, stop laughing!! I'm serious!! I've decided to bag up my projects (those not started and the WIPs*) and pull one out a month. Work on that project for a month (socks don't count if I can get them done quickly) and get some of this whittled down. *WIP is "manufacturing speak" for Work-In-Progress. The other common term is UFO (Un-Finished-Object).
9. Knitting 4: So the boys found "ear-flap" hats they want for Xmas. Blowing a slight hole in my "empty the stash" project... Yes, the yarn is purchased. Yes, they're bagged up. Will start THEM after the bolero.
10. The Garden: So it looks like Hubby's persistent watering has done some good. We have our first batch of tomatoes, and the herbs are weathering the drought. We have a nesting pair of Ruby Throated Hummingbirds, and they visit the feeders regularly (as do the wasps, but we have traps out...). The shallots are done and need to be pulled up, and the carrots are coming along swimmingly. I do, however, have a severe problem with a soil-bound fungus which is totally screwing up my roses. Unfortunately, the only cure is to pull them up, pour on neem oil and then never plant roses in that area again. Bummer. But I think we'll shift over next year to a butterfly-and-hummingbird-friendly garden. I also have a Memorial Garden set up for our dogs who're passed on with solar gazing balls and little monuments. It's a rock garden, and we have St. Francis there. And my Cubs gnome.
11. Ron Santo: Sorry, I was only going to do 10... But Ron Santo was finally (FINALLY) inducted into the Hall of Fame. Could you all have waited any freakin' longer??? The man is dead. He LIVED for Cubs baseball. And he had a pre-steroids record, including him being a diabetic, that should make most younger players hang their heads in shame. I'm so glad he's finally there, but jeeze....You're talking about inducting Sammy Sosa and the other 'roid-heads that are already there, and you leave Santo out in the cold till after his death? Heartless morons. His wife and family were very gracious. And actually, I'm thrilled. Just annoyed at the way it all came down.
Wednesday, July 04, 2012
Must. Get. Gauge. ALWAYS
The gnashing of teeth you hear is me. I've finished the pieces of the KAL (Knit-A-Long) sweater I've been slaving away on for the past one and a half months. I'd love to show it to you but right now, I'm in the throes of assembly.
Yesterday, I was in the throes of WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAT????????????? as I tried to "block to measurements. Only to find that it's not right. I mean, really REALLY not right. As in about-2-sizes-smaller not right. Crap.
I could blame the yarn. And I might. But...I also need to blame myself. My stitch gauge is right on. 20 sts = 4" and that's what the directions say. What they also say is "30 rows = 4 inches" and that, my fellow knitters, is what's wrong. I'm 1 1/2" too short. Well, I'm not. The sweater is. That measurement takes it from a Large to a Medium. Which isn't going to fit me in this lifetime. Even though the bust measurement is correct, it's not gonna fit. Ever.
So. I'm going to assemble it anyway. And if the Knitting Gods are with me, I'll get the 2x2 ribbing done in time to give it to my mom. For her birthday.
Not that I don't WANT to give my mom a hand-knit sweater. And not that she won't like it. It's just that this was something I was very happy to knit for myself. Because it's only my second sweater. Ever.
And Sonda's not around to help me finish it. I'm on my own. Even Maggie Righetti couldn't help me because her instructions for weaving horizontal seams made no sense. I got it from about.com and it's working. But it's annoying.
I usually am right on gauge. That's not a brag. It's just the way it works. And for some reason, this yarn, probably because of its thick-thin-thick-thin texture, threw me off. (See, I can blame the yarn if I want to!)
I have two options. Frogging isn't one of them. I could toss the whole thing into a bag and bribe one of my fellow stitchers to finish it for me. Or I could just suck it up and do it myself.
Believe me, the "let Doris finish it" option was very tempting. But I have to learn this stuff. It's like making socks: scary till you understand it.
This will give me the impetus to GET GAUGE both ways for the bolero I want to start. And it also makes me think that perhaps my mother will get a few of my WIPs because they're too far along to frog. I may as well have SOMEONE get some joy out of them. (sigh)
So my hard lesson to you, Knitsters, is to always get gauge. Believe them when they say, "Save time now by doing a swatch." It's that important.
Happy 4th of July to everyone! Stay safe. If you're in the heat wave like we are, stay cool and hydrated. And please, please, PLEASE take care of your pets. Keep 'em inside because of the heat AND the fireworks. They get scared. And it's your job to protect them.
Yesterday, I was in the throes of WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAT????????????? as I tried to "block to measurements. Only to find that it's not right. I mean, really REALLY not right. As in about-2-sizes-smaller not right. Crap.
I could blame the yarn. And I might. But...I also need to blame myself. My stitch gauge is right on. 20 sts = 4" and that's what the directions say. What they also say is "30 rows = 4 inches" and that, my fellow knitters, is what's wrong. I'm 1 1/2" too short. Well, I'm not. The sweater is. That measurement takes it from a Large to a Medium. Which isn't going to fit me in this lifetime. Even though the bust measurement is correct, it's not gonna fit. Ever.
So. I'm going to assemble it anyway. And if the Knitting Gods are with me, I'll get the 2x2 ribbing done in time to give it to my mom. For her birthday.
Not that I don't WANT to give my mom a hand-knit sweater. And not that she won't like it. It's just that this was something I was very happy to knit for myself. Because it's only my second sweater. Ever.
And Sonda's not around to help me finish it. I'm on my own. Even Maggie Righetti couldn't help me because her instructions for weaving horizontal seams made no sense. I got it from about.com and it's working. But it's annoying.
I usually am right on gauge. That's not a brag. It's just the way it works. And for some reason, this yarn, probably because of its thick-thin-thick-thin texture, threw me off. (See, I can blame the yarn if I want to!)
I have two options. Frogging isn't one of them. I could toss the whole thing into a bag and bribe one of my fellow stitchers to finish it for me. Or I could just suck it up and do it myself.
Believe me, the "let Doris finish it" option was very tempting. But I have to learn this stuff. It's like making socks: scary till you understand it.
This will give me the impetus to GET GAUGE both ways for the bolero I want to start. And it also makes me think that perhaps my mother will get a few of my WIPs because they're too far along to frog. I may as well have SOMEONE get some joy out of them. (sigh)
So my hard lesson to you, Knitsters, is to always get gauge. Believe them when they say, "Save time now by doing a swatch." It's that important.
Happy 4th of July to everyone! Stay safe. If you're in the heat wave like we are, stay cool and hydrated. And please, please, PLEASE take care of your pets. Keep 'em inside because of the heat AND the fireworks. They get scared. And it's your job to protect them.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
I Couldn't Breathe...
Now that I'm living in "cardio-land" there are apparently things I need to get used to. Unfortunately for me, my sister (the cardio nurse) failed to warn me about one of them.
Let's go back in time for a bit. As you all may remember, it's been a rough little while. My friend Sonda was diagnosed with melanoma back around Thanksgiving. They found it by the fact that she had tumors in her brain - which is never, ever, E-V-E-R good news.
While we always want to have positive thoughts, and we always want everyone to get well from everything, the fact is that they never found the original melanoma and by the time they discovered the brain tumors, it was already at Stage IV. Was I going to be the black cloud in all this? Not on your life. I wanted her to get better, even while the logical part of me was thinking, "No, that's not really going to be how this ends...." A bunch of us supported her and her mom - taking care of the yarn shop, providing dinners, writing notes, making a wonderful afghan...just being there when she needed it.
Sometime in March, my friend Bill sent a note to a select few of us at work: he had Stage IV melanoma and it was in his spine, lungs and stomach. Again....the Angel of Logic entered my brain and while I sent notes and offered prayers, I also saw this like you'd see a freight train coming in the dark of night.
Both of these people were within a year of my age. I'm 54.
I saw Sonda (for what ended up being the last time) on May 14. I had an appointment with my dermatologist on May 16 and ended up having a "pre-cancerous lesion" frozen off my forehead.
On May 17, I had my first large attack of a-fib. I called Hubby, who came and got me; he's a former EMT and I knew something was up when he tried 3 places and couldn't find a pulse. So off we go to the nearest hospital. I ended up in the ER and had a subsequent overnight hospital stay. It took 13 hours for my heart to convert back to a normal rhythm. Now that I knew what I was looking for, I can tell you that this has been happening for a little while. However, when I mentioned it to a couple of doctors, they told me, "You know, as you go into menopause..." (that's a whole other blog post about how much I hate that blanket statement!!) I found out that my grandma (maternal side) had this condition and was on medication for most of my life for it. I came home on the 18th, and my mom called the 19th to tell me that Sonda had died.
I sang at her funeral on May 22. I had two different diagnostic tests that week also, and a change in medication (because you don't often get it right the first time).
My friend Sue and I did the Avon Walk on June 2 - only 10.2 miles, but as I told Sue: Really? You're going to beat yourself up because we didn't finish? And I'm out of the hospital not even 2 weeks ago??? How many other people didn't do anything AT ALL??
On Monday, June 4, the cardiac event monitor goes nuts at 3 a.m. and Hubby listens, saying, "Oh, wow...this is really different." Off we go again. I can now cross "peeing in a bedpan" off my bucket list. Twice. This time, however, it only took 3 or 4 hours for my heart to convert. They still kept me overnight, because if it went back into a-fib, I was scheduled for a "reboot" (cardiac conversion). Another cardiologist from the same practice came in, said, "That Rx you're on sucks" and changed me over to another one. Plus a blood thinner. I look like my dogs have used me as a chew toy. They haven't, by the way.
On Tuesday, June 5, I find out that my friend Roxy's sister died from pancreatic cancer (we knew she'd been sick, but she was so young...) and my friend Bill had died.
I come home; I took a week off work to adjust to the new meds and try to just wrap my head around the new routine I have, particularly regarding the timing of the meds. I thought I was doing ok.
Except that this past weekend, I noticed I was having a little trouble breathing. I called my sister, and she indicated that I'd been on the new meds for 2 weeks already and if I had been inclined to a reaction, it would've happened earlier. It felt "croup"-like, so I did what any mom my age would do: boiled water, stuck my head over the steaming pot and inhaled. Also, I larded myself up with Vick's Vapo-Rub and dug out the foam wedge. I was able to sleep that way. Until Monday. I drove to work, even though something felt "off." But the cardiac monitor was silent, so I figured maybe it was just that I was tired - maybe PMS-ing or who-knew-what. I got the mail and drove to the office. But I never made it. I drove home because my brain was screaming. I mean SCREAMING at me. And it was saying:
"I can't breathe. I. Can't. Breathe..."
I got in the door, said to Hubby, "Something's wrong." We had a short debate about "Quick Care" versus ER...and ultimately the ER was the choice because given the fact that I was having trouble breathing and I had a newly-diagnosed heart condition, I was going to get sent there anyway.
Got to the ER. I told them, "I don't know what's happening; I feel like my windpipe is strangling me, I can't catch my breath and I don't know whether I need a good cry, I'm having a panic attack or there's another thing wrong with me." I sing. Normally my lung function is pretty darned good and usually above-average. They did a bunch of tests. The doc comes in, puzzled. I was breathing. Just fine. Oxygen saturation at 100%. But yet when I talked, it was like I had to speak on an exhale just to get the words out. So he decided to rule out a blood clot - which apparently can happen even if you are on blood thinners - who knew?? I had a VQ test because I'm horribly allergic to IVP dye (I stop breathing, and thanks - I was having enough trouble).
I'm now hooked up to O2 and waiting for the results of the test - while the ER tech says my EKG is perfectly normal. The test comes back telling my doc that I have "crystal clear" lungs.
The doc says, "You are probably correct. You've had a panic attack." And he made a point, lest I feel like a total idiot: at least now I can know for sure that there are no clots and that's one less thing to worry about. I gave him the Reader's Digest timeline of what was going on and he said, "Yep...You do seem a little overwhelmed." I walked out with a low doze of xanax and the suggestion that I talk to someone to get some good perspective.
After Hubby calls my sister to reassure her that I'm ok, she says, "Ok. One of the nurses here told me that's very common with cardiac patients." Really? Thanks, sis. Though to give her her due, she's new there. They never worried much about panic attacks with cardiac ICU patients....
I'm worried about a lot of stuff. I guess I shoved it down too far because I'm always "in control. Ask anyone. They'll tell you and so will I.
Except that I'm not. And by all that's human, I probably need to really really recognize that it's ok that I get the cosmic 2x4 across the head every once in a while. I mean, look: Mother Nature has provided us with duplicates of everything. Even the tendon that they used in my hand surgery a few years ago? It's a "spare" because each of your forearms has TWO of them. Two eyes. Two ears. Two lungs. Etc.
But only ONE heart. And ONE brain. My seemingly nonchalant acceptance of this new reality in truth wasn't acceptance. It was "deal with it and move on." That's a good life skill, but every so often, you really do need a good cry. Honestly, I haven't cried yet about Sonda and Bill. I haven't truly dealt with this heart thing. One part of my brain is scared witless that they're "taking away" the cardiac event monitor in another week. What will happen? Will I really be able to trust my own self to know what's wrong? Can I function on just my brain's recognition of a problem, or am I replacing my own good sense and knowledge of my body with a dependency on a device. Which, by the way, is causing my skin to break out in welts because I don't like the adhesive on the pads...
Hubby, bless his heart, asks me constantly (or at least it seems like that to me): "Are you ok?" Because he says I don't tell him. I try to deal with it. Because I always have. I've dealt with an alcoholic parent. I've dealt with being the "mom" to my siblings. I've dealt with putting myself through college. I've dealt with moving nearly 1,000 miles from home. I've dealt with a broken marriage and trying to raise 2 kids on my own. I've dealt with putting together a blended family. Community responsibilities that are part of my job. A job which is great, but which doesn't allow me the normal "weekend" -- which may seem silly, but try to work a constant schedule where you don't have 2 days to recharge yourself. I'm not saying my job brought this on. I just got the sucky end of the gene pool stick.
My kids were scared stiff and we had the "why didn't you notify me first?" discussion...wherein we noted that one of the kids works in a hazardous job and really - do you want me worrying about what YOU will worry about when I tell you??? After I told Kid #1 it was a panic attack, he said, "That doesn't happen to you." Well, I guess a whack on the head from the Mortality Fairy has a way of making you think. Forcing you to think, actually. To reevaluate. To reassess. To learn new tools to cope.
I've made an appointment with someone to talk to. I've talked to others who've given me some very good common-sense tools. Perhaps the prescription is helping me realize that if it ever gets really bad again, I can have this avenue of escape. The pills aren't my idea of a long-term solution, but I'm realistic enough to know that it's ok in the short-term.
I've done what I can. I've been able in a decent way to have a lighter schedule at least for the summer. What I guess I'm saying is that I've got a new appreciation for realizing that I do not have to be the one in charge. It's ok to just "be" sometimes. For the control-freak in me, this is a huge adjustment. I have to just keep breathing. After all, I could always breathe. I just needed to know that.
Let's go back in time for a bit. As you all may remember, it's been a rough little while. My friend Sonda was diagnosed with melanoma back around Thanksgiving. They found it by the fact that she had tumors in her brain - which is never, ever, E-V-E-R good news.
While we always want to have positive thoughts, and we always want everyone to get well from everything, the fact is that they never found the original melanoma and by the time they discovered the brain tumors, it was already at Stage IV. Was I going to be the black cloud in all this? Not on your life. I wanted her to get better, even while the logical part of me was thinking, "No, that's not really going to be how this ends...." A bunch of us supported her and her mom - taking care of the yarn shop, providing dinners, writing notes, making a wonderful afghan...just being there when she needed it.
Sometime in March, my friend Bill sent a note to a select few of us at work: he had Stage IV melanoma and it was in his spine, lungs and stomach. Again....the Angel of Logic entered my brain and while I sent notes and offered prayers, I also saw this like you'd see a freight train coming in the dark of night.
Both of these people were within a year of my age. I'm 54.
I saw Sonda (for what ended up being the last time) on May 14. I had an appointment with my dermatologist on May 16 and ended up having a "pre-cancerous lesion" frozen off my forehead.
On May 17, I had my first large attack of a-fib. I called Hubby, who came and got me; he's a former EMT and I knew something was up when he tried 3 places and couldn't find a pulse. So off we go to the nearest hospital. I ended up in the ER and had a subsequent overnight hospital stay. It took 13 hours for my heart to convert back to a normal rhythm. Now that I knew what I was looking for, I can tell you that this has been happening for a little while. However, when I mentioned it to a couple of doctors, they told me, "You know, as you go into menopause..." (that's a whole other blog post about how much I hate that blanket statement!!) I found out that my grandma (maternal side) had this condition and was on medication for most of my life for it. I came home on the 18th, and my mom called the 19th to tell me that Sonda had died.
I sang at her funeral on May 22. I had two different diagnostic tests that week also, and a change in medication (because you don't often get it right the first time).
My friend Sue and I did the Avon Walk on June 2 - only 10.2 miles, but as I told Sue: Really? You're going to beat yourself up because we didn't finish? And I'm out of the hospital not even 2 weeks ago??? How many other people didn't do anything AT ALL??
On Monday, June 4, the cardiac event monitor goes nuts at 3 a.m. and Hubby listens, saying, "Oh, wow...this is really different." Off we go again. I can now cross "peeing in a bedpan" off my bucket list. Twice. This time, however, it only took 3 or 4 hours for my heart to convert. They still kept me overnight, because if it went back into a-fib, I was scheduled for a "reboot" (cardiac conversion). Another cardiologist from the same practice came in, said, "That Rx you're on sucks" and changed me over to another one. Plus a blood thinner. I look like my dogs have used me as a chew toy. They haven't, by the way.
On Tuesday, June 5, I find out that my friend Roxy's sister died from pancreatic cancer (we knew she'd been sick, but she was so young...) and my friend Bill had died.
I come home; I took a week off work to adjust to the new meds and try to just wrap my head around the new routine I have, particularly regarding the timing of the meds. I thought I was doing ok.
Except that this past weekend, I noticed I was having a little trouble breathing. I called my sister, and she indicated that I'd been on the new meds for 2 weeks already and if I had been inclined to a reaction, it would've happened earlier. It felt "croup"-like, so I did what any mom my age would do: boiled water, stuck my head over the steaming pot and inhaled. Also, I larded myself up with Vick's Vapo-Rub and dug out the foam wedge. I was able to sleep that way. Until Monday. I drove to work, even though something felt "off." But the cardiac monitor was silent, so I figured maybe it was just that I was tired - maybe PMS-ing or who-knew-what. I got the mail and drove to the office. But I never made it. I drove home because my brain was screaming. I mean SCREAMING at me. And it was saying:
"I can't breathe. I. Can't. Breathe..."
I got in the door, said to Hubby, "Something's wrong." We had a short debate about "Quick Care" versus ER...and ultimately the ER was the choice because given the fact that I was having trouble breathing and I had a newly-diagnosed heart condition, I was going to get sent there anyway.
Got to the ER. I told them, "I don't know what's happening; I feel like my windpipe is strangling me, I can't catch my breath and I don't know whether I need a good cry, I'm having a panic attack or there's another thing wrong with me." I sing. Normally my lung function is pretty darned good and usually above-average. They did a bunch of tests. The doc comes in, puzzled. I was breathing. Just fine. Oxygen saturation at 100%. But yet when I talked, it was like I had to speak on an exhale just to get the words out. So he decided to rule out a blood clot - which apparently can happen even if you are on blood thinners - who knew?? I had a VQ test because I'm horribly allergic to IVP dye (I stop breathing, and thanks - I was having enough trouble).
I'm now hooked up to O2 and waiting for the results of the test - while the ER tech says my EKG is perfectly normal. The test comes back telling my doc that I have "crystal clear" lungs.
The doc says, "You are probably correct. You've had a panic attack." And he made a point, lest I feel like a total idiot: at least now I can know for sure that there are no clots and that's one less thing to worry about. I gave him the Reader's Digest timeline of what was going on and he said, "Yep...You do seem a little overwhelmed." I walked out with a low doze of xanax and the suggestion that I talk to someone to get some good perspective.
After Hubby calls my sister to reassure her that I'm ok, she says, "Ok. One of the nurses here told me that's very common with cardiac patients." Really? Thanks, sis. Though to give her her due, she's new there. They never worried much about panic attacks with cardiac ICU patients....
I'm worried about a lot of stuff. I guess I shoved it down too far because I'm always "in control. Ask anyone. They'll tell you and so will I.
Except that I'm not. And by all that's human, I probably need to really really recognize that it's ok that I get the cosmic 2x4 across the head every once in a while. I mean, look: Mother Nature has provided us with duplicates of everything. Even the tendon that they used in my hand surgery a few years ago? It's a "spare" because each of your forearms has TWO of them. Two eyes. Two ears. Two lungs. Etc.
But only ONE heart. And ONE brain. My seemingly nonchalant acceptance of this new reality in truth wasn't acceptance. It was "deal with it and move on." That's a good life skill, but every so often, you really do need a good cry. Honestly, I haven't cried yet about Sonda and Bill. I haven't truly dealt with this heart thing. One part of my brain is scared witless that they're "taking away" the cardiac event monitor in another week. What will happen? Will I really be able to trust my own self to know what's wrong? Can I function on just my brain's recognition of a problem, or am I replacing my own good sense and knowledge of my body with a dependency on a device. Which, by the way, is causing my skin to break out in welts because I don't like the adhesive on the pads...
Hubby, bless his heart, asks me constantly (or at least it seems like that to me): "Are you ok?" Because he says I don't tell him. I try to deal with it. Because I always have. I've dealt with an alcoholic parent. I've dealt with being the "mom" to my siblings. I've dealt with putting myself through college. I've dealt with moving nearly 1,000 miles from home. I've dealt with a broken marriage and trying to raise 2 kids on my own. I've dealt with putting together a blended family. Community responsibilities that are part of my job. A job which is great, but which doesn't allow me the normal "weekend" -- which may seem silly, but try to work a constant schedule where you don't have 2 days to recharge yourself. I'm not saying my job brought this on. I just got the sucky end of the gene pool stick.
My kids were scared stiff and we had the "why didn't you notify me first?" discussion...wherein we noted that one of the kids works in a hazardous job and really - do you want me worrying about what YOU will worry about when I tell you??? After I told Kid #1 it was a panic attack, he said, "That doesn't happen to you." Well, I guess a whack on the head from the Mortality Fairy has a way of making you think. Forcing you to think, actually. To reevaluate. To reassess. To learn new tools to cope.
I've made an appointment with someone to talk to. I've talked to others who've given me some very good common-sense tools. Perhaps the prescription is helping me realize that if it ever gets really bad again, I can have this avenue of escape. The pills aren't my idea of a long-term solution, but I'm realistic enough to know that it's ok in the short-term.
I've done what I can. I've been able in a decent way to have a lighter schedule at least for the summer. What I guess I'm saying is that I've got a new appreciation for realizing that I do not have to be the one in charge. It's ok to just "be" sometimes. For the control-freak in me, this is a huge adjustment. I have to just keep breathing. After all, I could always breathe. I just needed to know that.
Wednesday, June 06, 2012
This Wasn't on the Bucket List...
This will require some 'splainin'... About 2 weeks ago, I ended up in the ER after keeling over at work. After a 2-day stay in the hospital, I was diagnosed with atrial fibrillation. I saw a cardiologist and was given some meds.
After a follow-up visit, the cardio changed the meds and told me I could go ahead and do the Avon Walk, "as long as you're not stupid." Which I wasn't. I did 10.2 miles and that was enough.
And that's a different blog post.
So I also got as a lovely take-home present, a 30-day cardiac monitor. This past Monday, it went off at 3:14 a.m. Twice. Hubby listened, and said, "oh, wow, this is different." So off we trotted to the ER again. The second med apparently didn't work.
On my first ER visit, it took almost 12 hours for my heart (thanks to an IV) to convert back. On this visit (I just got home yesterday), it only took 3. Otherwise, I was facing a "cardioversion" or in my words: a reboot...
So now I'm on med #3, and hoping that this works for now. In the end, I'm looking at an atrial ablation earlier than I had originally though.
But here's the weird part. In the ER, I really, REALLY had to go to the bathroom; which they weren't going to let me do because I was dizzy from the heart stuff. So this ER tech walks in. I thought "It's a good thing I'm laying down." He looked exactly like my nephew AND had the same name. We know it's not, because it's a different last name.
He hands me this bedpan which looks like a small dustpan. Well. This is TMI, but when I have to go to the bathroom, I usually have more substantial results than this little dustpan thingie. So of course it overflowed... The young man was very professional and was able to get me all cleaned up without embarassment.
But then it happened again. With a "full-sized" bedpan that looked maybe like a small pasta bowl. Whaaaaaaaaaaat??????? Who invented these things??? Obviously a man. So again.... "my cup runneth over." And again, full change.
My cute little ER tech said, "Oh well, now you can cross 'peeing in a bedpan' off your bucket list." As I chuckled, I mentioned that I hadn't realized it was on my bucket list, but as long as it's something I'd never done before, I suppose it works out.
So far, the meds are doing ok. The at-home monitor was silent last night, and I'm smart enough this time to have taken a week off work to adjust to the new meds, as "dizziness" is the first "common side effect" and thanks, but I'd rather be at home if I'm going to keel over.
Aside from the fact that it took them five hours (yes, five hours) to discharge me, and I kind of look like I've been mauled by my dogs because of bruising, the hospital people couldn't have been nicer. It's just that I hope this all gets resolved, because this is two ER visits in as many weeks.
The first bill already came in at over $11,000... no, that isn't what caused the second visit! So I can't imagine my insurance company will be happy about a second visit so soon, but there's not much I can do about it. It's not like I can wait it out, since the worst thing that can happen with a-fib is a stroke or a clot heading somewhere else like lung or kidney. Thanks, but I can skip that, and my insurance company can do its job since I've been relatively healthy for so many years.
There's actually no snappy conclusion this time. It's "wait and see" till I see the doc and then we go from there.
After a follow-up visit, the cardio changed the meds and told me I could go ahead and do the Avon Walk, "as long as you're not stupid." Which I wasn't. I did 10.2 miles and that was enough.
And that's a different blog post.
So I also got as a lovely take-home present, a 30-day cardiac monitor. This past Monday, it went off at 3:14 a.m. Twice. Hubby listened, and said, "oh, wow, this is different." So off we trotted to the ER again. The second med apparently didn't work.
On my first ER visit, it took almost 12 hours for my heart (thanks to an IV) to convert back. On this visit (I just got home yesterday), it only took 3. Otherwise, I was facing a "cardioversion" or in my words: a reboot...
So now I'm on med #3, and hoping that this works for now. In the end, I'm looking at an atrial ablation earlier than I had originally though.
But here's the weird part. In the ER, I really, REALLY had to go to the bathroom; which they weren't going to let me do because I was dizzy from the heart stuff. So this ER tech walks in. I thought "It's a good thing I'm laying down." He looked exactly like my nephew AND had the same name. We know it's not, because it's a different last name.
He hands me this bedpan which looks like a small dustpan. Well. This is TMI, but when I have to go to the bathroom, I usually have more substantial results than this little dustpan thingie. So of course it overflowed... The young man was very professional and was able to get me all cleaned up without embarassment.
But then it happened again. With a "full-sized" bedpan that looked maybe like a small pasta bowl. Whaaaaaaaaaaat??????? Who invented these things??? Obviously a man. So again.... "my cup runneth over." And again, full change.
My cute little ER tech said, "Oh well, now you can cross 'peeing in a bedpan' off your bucket list." As I chuckled, I mentioned that I hadn't realized it was on my bucket list, but as long as it's something I'd never done before, I suppose it works out.
So far, the meds are doing ok. The at-home monitor was silent last night, and I'm smart enough this time to have taken a week off work to adjust to the new meds, as "dizziness" is the first "common side effect" and thanks, but I'd rather be at home if I'm going to keel over.
Aside from the fact that it took them five hours (yes, five hours) to discharge me, and I kind of look like I've been mauled by my dogs because of bruising, the hospital people couldn't have been nicer. It's just that I hope this all gets resolved, because this is two ER visits in as many weeks.
The first bill already came in at over $11,000... no, that isn't what caused the second visit! So I can't imagine my insurance company will be happy about a second visit so soon, but there's not much I can do about it. It's not like I can wait it out, since the worst thing that can happen with a-fib is a stroke or a clot heading somewhere else like lung or kidney. Thanks, but I can skip that, and my insurance company can do its job since I've been relatively healthy for so many years.
There's actually no snappy conclusion this time. It's "wait and see" till I see the doc and then we go from there.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
It was a quiet weekend...
...which is exactly what I needed! Thankfully, we had a short class on Friday night (the only one all summer! Yay!) and no classes on Saturday. So I actually had a 4-day weekend.
I spent most of it kind of recovering from the prior week's crappiness. And then I kind of blew it Sunday. Oh well; that's what I get, I suppose!
Anyway, Hubby and I did get some errands done and we got the dogs' memorial garden done, and also I got a "new" patio set. Sort of.
Let me explain. We're not really "patio" people; but Hubby made me this lovely patio out of paver bricks because we do plant a lot of things in pots and it was a pain in the rear to keep moving them out of the way of the lawnmower. And it also gives us a path to the vehicles, AND then makes it easier to shovel.
So. We have these cheap-o white plastic chairs which get stored every winter. They're what? Eight bucks each? And I've been kind of thinking about maybe new chairs. We looked at Target and found some nice mesh ones for about $25 each. That's $100 for 4 chairs. Instead, I suggested to Hubby that we paint our plastic ones.
Here's an idea of the patio set-up. Yes, those are maple trees in the pots. Long story, but my sister will be getting several of them for her very large yard, and we'll be creating a "maple grove" for her. In the pots with mesh are some fuschia which were going well till the squirrels got to the dirt and probably several of the bulbs! And behind all of that is our garden. That large clump of green in the middle is all of the peas we planted.
This is "before." The chairs were scrubbed. They just looked awful. I did buy cushions last year at the end of the year, and they're rusty orange - really pretty. So I suggested a bright blue paint. Don't laugh. Wait....
Here's the process. We got Rust-O-Leum spray paint. It was kind of a hoot because we went through the self-checker at Home Depot and before Hubby could finalize the transaction, he had to show an ID for the spray paint! He was a little befuddled and I assured the checker that he WAS over 21! I guess it's proof that you don't have malicious intent for the spray paint if you have no idea that you need to be carded to purchase it!
So he got the painting done and because it was a lovely day, it all dried nicely.
The paint is just gorgeous. And while I haven't put the cushions out yet, I think it'll really perk up the back yard. We have very good luck with plants. And we have a 30-foot maple tree! So we have lots of shade to enjoy and if it's breezy, not too many bugs.
After he got done, we arranged the chairs. You can't see the bright yellow begonias we hung from the maple tree, but just let me assure you it's gorgeous. I can't wait for more time off to just sit there and listen to the birds. Next on our list is a bubbler for the small bird bath. Unfortunately, we tossed our wooden wishing well that our next door neighbor made for us. It fell apart and even our neighbor told us it was time to pitch it.
Here's a shot of the memorial garden. Of course, I got grief because I put my beleaguered and worn out Cubs gnome there (he's hiding behind St. Francis). Hubby wanted to know if the "memorial" was for the Cubs or for the dogs... Hmpfh.
We have 3 memorial stones, one for each of our girls, and a stone which says: "If love could have saved you, you would have lived forever." Also, note a goldleaf plant, also protected from the evil squirrels. The gazing ball is new; it's a gorgeous gradient of purple/blue/gold. And "Mortimer Moose-ter" is alongside the A/C but he may be moving somewhere else. Not sure yet. I might even put in some impatiens if I think it needs more color. I have time.
And here's the final view of the back yard. For about $11.00 we have a "new" patio set, and once Hubby finishes painting the two side tables, we'll be set. I figure it'll give us one more year - maybe two - with the current furniture, and I figure that it just makes sense to be a little cautious at this point.
Check out the "miniature" rose that somehow survived the winter behind the one chair! It's bigger than some of our floribundas in the front yard!
I suppose I should confess that, like an idiot, I went out on a bike ride Sunday, the hottest and most humid day of the holiday weekend...Yes, it was a shaded path; yes, we rode slowly.
And yes, I got home and was VERY dizzy - from the heat + humidty + new heart meds. Ok, feel free to call me stupid. And no, I did not tell my mother. My sister said it was just the heat. And yes, SHE told me I was stupid. (sigh)
Our ultimate goal is to fence it all in so that the dogs have a spot to run and we can just sit there with them. It'll happen. Sometime soon, one step at a time. One day, maybe I'll be able to take my tea out there, sit in the morning or late afternoon, and knit or read. Can't wait!
I spent most of it kind of recovering from the prior week's crappiness. And then I kind of blew it Sunday. Oh well; that's what I get, I suppose!
Anyway, Hubby and I did get some errands done and we got the dogs' memorial garden done, and also I got a "new" patio set. Sort of.
Let me explain. We're not really "patio" people; but Hubby made me this lovely patio out of paver bricks because we do plant a lot of things in pots and it was a pain in the rear to keep moving them out of the way of the lawnmower. And it also gives us a path to the vehicles, AND then makes it easier to shovel.
So. We have these cheap-o white plastic chairs which get stored every winter. They're what? Eight bucks each? And I've been kind of thinking about maybe new chairs. We looked at Target and found some nice mesh ones for about $25 each. That's $100 for 4 chairs. Instead, I suggested to Hubby that we paint our plastic ones. Here's an idea of the patio set-up. Yes, those are maple trees in the pots. Long story, but my sister will be getting several of them for her very large yard, and we'll be creating a "maple grove" for her. In the pots with mesh are some fuschia which were going well till the squirrels got to the dirt and probably several of the bulbs! And behind all of that is our garden. That large clump of green in the middle is all of the peas we planted.
This is "before." The chairs were scrubbed. They just looked awful. I did buy cushions last year at the end of the year, and they're rusty orange - really pretty. So I suggested a bright blue paint. Don't laugh. Wait....
Here's the process. We got Rust-O-Leum spray paint. It was kind of a hoot because we went through the self-checker at Home Depot and before Hubby could finalize the transaction, he had to show an ID for the spray paint! He was a little befuddled and I assured the checker that he WAS over 21! I guess it's proof that you don't have malicious intent for the spray paint if you have no idea that you need to be carded to purchase it!
The paint is just gorgeous. And while I haven't put the cushions out yet, I think it'll really perk up the back yard. We have very good luck with plants. And we have a 30-foot maple tree! So we have lots of shade to enjoy and if it's breezy, not too many bugs.
After he got done, we arranged the chairs. You can't see the bright yellow begonias we hung from the maple tree, but just let me assure you it's gorgeous. I can't wait for more time off to just sit there and listen to the birds. Next on our list is a bubbler for the small bird bath. Unfortunately, we tossed our wooden wishing well that our next door neighbor made for us. It fell apart and even our neighbor told us it was time to pitch it.
We have 3 memorial stones, one for each of our girls, and a stone which says: "If love could have saved you, you would have lived forever." Also, note a goldleaf plant, also protected from the evil squirrels. The gazing ball is new; it's a gorgeous gradient of purple/blue/gold. And "Mortimer Moose-ter" is alongside the A/C but he may be moving somewhere else. Not sure yet. I might even put in some impatiens if I think it needs more color. I have time.
Check out the "miniature" rose that somehow survived the winter behind the one chair! It's bigger than some of our floribundas in the front yard!
I suppose I should confess that, like an idiot, I went out on a bike ride Sunday, the hottest and most humid day of the holiday weekend...Yes, it was a shaded path; yes, we rode slowly.
And yes, I got home and was VERY dizzy - from the heat + humidty + new heart meds. Ok, feel free to call me stupid. And no, I did not tell my mother. My sister said it was just the heat. And yes, SHE told me I was stupid. (sigh)
Our ultimate goal is to fence it all in so that the dogs have a spot to run and we can just sit there with them. It'll happen. Sometime soon, one step at a time. One day, maybe I'll be able to take my tea out there, sit in the morning or late afternoon, and knit or read. Can't wait!
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Cold Hard Look at Mortality...
This past week was --- horrible.
As you may remember, my friend Sonda has been dealing with Stage IV melanoma. We knew that it was just a matter of time. The last time I saw her was on Monday, May 14, and I knew I wouldn't be back there.
On this past Wednesday, I had a skin check. The first one since 2009 -- so as my Public Service Announcement to you: PLEASE GET AN ANNUAL SKIN CHECK, particularly if you've had at least 1 "bad sunburn" in your lifetime.
At that appointment I had a pre-cancerous spot frozen off. That certainly put things in perspective for me. I used to use sunscreen, but was "lax" about it. Not anymore. I'm going full-bore on the sunscreen. Period. Thanks to Sonda and that little freezing incident? I don't want to be the next one on our list with that cancer.
This past Thursday, I woke up feeling "something's not right." So I've been on this metabolism diet where the first eight weeks, you severely limit your carbs.
I've lost 10 lbs. and I feel better, though I'm bored with the limited stuff you get to eat, particularly since now, I'm missing the fruit.
Anway, I thought, "I wonder if this is related to this diet?" and then I just ate a light breakfast and went off to work. It got worse. I felt dizzy. I thought, "Hmmmmm, seizure??" Nope. I scared the bejeebies out of our cleaner, who thought I was having a heart attack.
And actually, at one point, I thought that might exactly be the case. So I called Hubby and said, "Come get me; there's something wrong." By this time I was having a little trouble thinking and if I lifted my head off the desk, the room spun.
I got down on the floor at one point and did "legs up the wall" just because I thought, well, if I faint, the legs up the wall will at least shove the blood back where it needs to be. But at that point, (and this gets weird) I felt my chest "waving." I seriously heard wooshing and felt my chest go in waves across from shoulder to shoulder. Got down off the wall pretty quickly and back up in my chair. I couldn't find my pulse, but I figured by that time, I was confused... I popped an aspirin while waiting for Hubby.
He comes in, HE looks for my pulse. In three places. Mind you, he's a former EMT. Even he couldn't find it, and he was worried because I wasn't making sense. So off we went to the closest hospital.
Giving them credit; it's not my first choice of facility, but when you're in that shape, you go for the closest place. My symptoms were: dizzy, couldn't talk straight, couldn't find a pulse, pale. I was not clammy, in pain or short of breath. In fact, I was doing quite a lot of deep breathing, which calmed me down, but confounded the medical folks.
They slapped a 12-lead EKG on me and everyone stood there, going, "Ohhhhhhh, ok...." Which, I may say, was NOT comforting! The only comforting thing was that I was in a hospital and I hoped to God that I was somewhere where they'd figure out what was going on.
I spent 8 hours in the ER. I apparently have a variety of atrial fibrillation. It took them six hours to get my heart under control (not out of a-fib, just not beating out of my chest), and that included an IV and watching to make sure I was not going to have a stroke -- apparently one of the biggest things you can have happen with untreated a-fib.
Hubby called my mom, who wisely did NOT come out to visit. I saw a cardiologist who said that if the IV didn't help resolve the heart into sinus rhythm, they'd do a "cardiac conversion" - which in my mind meant a "re-boot." Keep breathing. Keep breathing....
I finally got into a room, the heart rate was somewhere near 98 or so, and I felt "human" again; I was able to talk, I was thirsty as all heck, and tired. Hubby sat with me for a while and then left to go take care of everything at home. I was staying; that was it.
So, I spent Thursday night in the hospital *not* sleeping. I swear. Every 2 hours or so: check BP, check temp, draw blood... And even about 1:30 a.m. someone came into my room to unlock the supply closet and get what must've been the ONLY one of whatever they took on the entire Telemetry floor?!? About 2 a.m. I actually felt my heart go back to sinus rhythm, which was pretty creepy.
About that time, the alarm went off on the IV, so they came to take it out. My sister said it probably was so loud that it "scared" my heart into behaving!
I now have a cardiologist, new meds and some follow-up work to do.
And on Friday, when I got home, I got the news that my friend Sonda had passed away. I'm sad because she's literally a year older than me. I'm sad because her death was, in many respects, preventable. She was a blonde, freckled sun-bunny...and we're both old enough to have lived through our teens in the "oil and bake" times. Baby oil + iodine = a REALLY cute tan. I'm serious.
No longer. Neutrogena SPF 50 is now my friend.
So. I had promised Sonda to sing at her funeral. One of the side effects of the Rx they have me on is shortness of breath. I had Hubby sing with me, and I was actually happy it was just one song.
I'm having "I'm mortal" thoughts. I'm 54 years old. I'm told that a-fib or "flutters" can be part of menopause. (Really? It's not bad enough that I've had periods since age 11, have given birth 2x and have had 2 miscarriages, now have hot flashes PLUS cramps and am "overdue" to stop having periods? You gotta hand me HEART problems?)
My sister told me: (a) I have a "genius" cardio; and (b) that my grandma had this type of problem 'forever' and she never converted over - it was managed with medication. Well. That's nice to know. My dad had heart problems but whatever he had, required an internal defibrillator unit, which is *not* the treatment for a-fib.
And I'm the healthy one! I don't smoke or drink...heck, I don't even cuss! It's laughable. However, I was talking with my brother because my mom said "he looks like death" -- only to find out that he's been able to lose thirty pounds by adjusting his diet and swimming almost every day of the week. I'm so thrilled for him! And I'm on my way with my own 10-lb. loss.
I'm set for the Avon Walk, though I do have to have another cortisone shot in my heel. We'll rehab the foot AFTER the walk. Swear.
I want to put a picture of my friend here. It's one taken after the cancer was found; but just know that she was a joy to know. She was a talented knitter, designer, and just a person who could do anything she set her mind to. She was a diplomat of the first order, having the ability to get a very diverse group of people to all get along, at least while she was around. I'll miss her for many reasons. But I'll carry a bit of her with me wherever I go and whatever I do.
Rest in peace, my friend. I can't say anything more. I hope you heard our song and that it helped.
As you may remember, my friend Sonda has been dealing with Stage IV melanoma. We knew that it was just a matter of time. The last time I saw her was on Monday, May 14, and I knew I wouldn't be back there.
On this past Wednesday, I had a skin check. The first one since 2009 -- so as my Public Service Announcement to you: PLEASE GET AN ANNUAL SKIN CHECK, particularly if you've had at least 1 "bad sunburn" in your lifetime.
At that appointment I had a pre-cancerous spot frozen off. That certainly put things in perspective for me. I used to use sunscreen, but was "lax" about it. Not anymore. I'm going full-bore on the sunscreen. Period. Thanks to Sonda and that little freezing incident? I don't want to be the next one on our list with that cancer.
This past Thursday, I woke up feeling "something's not right." So I've been on this metabolism diet where the first eight weeks, you severely limit your carbs.
I've lost 10 lbs. and I feel better, though I'm bored with the limited stuff you get to eat, particularly since now, I'm missing the fruit.
Anway, I thought, "I wonder if this is related to this diet?" and then I just ate a light breakfast and went off to work. It got worse. I felt dizzy. I thought, "Hmmmmm, seizure??" Nope. I scared the bejeebies out of our cleaner, who thought I was having a heart attack.
And actually, at one point, I thought that might exactly be the case. So I called Hubby and said, "Come get me; there's something wrong." By this time I was having a little trouble thinking and if I lifted my head off the desk, the room spun.
I got down on the floor at one point and did "legs up the wall" just because I thought, well, if I faint, the legs up the wall will at least shove the blood back where it needs to be. But at that point, (and this gets weird) I felt my chest "waving." I seriously heard wooshing and felt my chest go in waves across from shoulder to shoulder. Got down off the wall pretty quickly and back up in my chair. I couldn't find my pulse, but I figured by that time, I was confused... I popped an aspirin while waiting for Hubby.
He comes in, HE looks for my pulse. In three places. Mind you, he's a former EMT. Even he couldn't find it, and he was worried because I wasn't making sense. So off we went to the closest hospital.
Giving them credit; it's not my first choice of facility, but when you're in that shape, you go for the closest place. My symptoms were: dizzy, couldn't talk straight, couldn't find a pulse, pale. I was not clammy, in pain or short of breath. In fact, I was doing quite a lot of deep breathing, which calmed me down, but confounded the medical folks.
They slapped a 12-lead EKG on me and everyone stood there, going, "Ohhhhhhh, ok...." Which, I may say, was NOT comforting! The only comforting thing was that I was in a hospital and I hoped to God that I was somewhere where they'd figure out what was going on.
I spent 8 hours in the ER. I apparently have a variety of atrial fibrillation. It took them six hours to get my heart under control (not out of a-fib, just not beating out of my chest), and that included an IV and watching to make sure I was not going to have a stroke -- apparently one of the biggest things you can have happen with untreated a-fib.
Hubby called my mom, who wisely did NOT come out to visit. I saw a cardiologist who said that if the IV didn't help resolve the heart into sinus rhythm, they'd do a "cardiac conversion" - which in my mind meant a "re-boot." Keep breathing. Keep breathing....
I finally got into a room, the heart rate was somewhere near 98 or so, and I felt "human" again; I was able to talk, I was thirsty as all heck, and tired. Hubby sat with me for a while and then left to go take care of everything at home. I was staying; that was it.
So, I spent Thursday night in the hospital *not* sleeping. I swear. Every 2 hours or so: check BP, check temp, draw blood... And even about 1:30 a.m. someone came into my room to unlock the supply closet and get what must've been the ONLY one of whatever they took on the entire Telemetry floor?!? About 2 a.m. I actually felt my heart go back to sinus rhythm, which was pretty creepy.
About that time, the alarm went off on the IV, so they came to take it out. My sister said it probably was so loud that it "scared" my heart into behaving!
I now have a cardiologist, new meds and some follow-up work to do.
And on Friday, when I got home, I got the news that my friend Sonda had passed away. I'm sad because she's literally a year older than me. I'm sad because her death was, in many respects, preventable. She was a blonde, freckled sun-bunny...and we're both old enough to have lived through our teens in the "oil and bake" times. Baby oil + iodine = a REALLY cute tan. I'm serious.
No longer. Neutrogena SPF 50 is now my friend.
So. I had promised Sonda to sing at her funeral. One of the side effects of the Rx they have me on is shortness of breath. I had Hubby sing with me, and I was actually happy it was just one song.
I'm having "I'm mortal" thoughts. I'm 54 years old. I'm told that a-fib or "flutters" can be part of menopause. (Really? It's not bad enough that I've had periods since age 11, have given birth 2x and have had 2 miscarriages, now have hot flashes PLUS cramps and am "overdue" to stop having periods? You gotta hand me HEART problems?)
My sister told me: (a) I have a "genius" cardio; and (b) that my grandma had this type of problem 'forever' and she never converted over - it was managed with medication. Well. That's nice to know. My dad had heart problems but whatever he had, required an internal defibrillator unit, which is *not* the treatment for a-fib.
And I'm the healthy one! I don't smoke or drink...heck, I don't even cuss! It's laughable. However, I was talking with my brother because my mom said "he looks like death" -- only to find out that he's been able to lose thirty pounds by adjusting his diet and swimming almost every day of the week. I'm so thrilled for him! And I'm on my way with my own 10-lb. loss.
I'm set for the Avon Walk, though I do have to have another cortisone shot in my heel. We'll rehab the foot AFTER the walk. Swear.
I want to put a picture of my friend here. It's one taken after the cancer was found; but just know that she was a joy to know. She was a talented knitter, designer, and just a person who could do anything she set her mind to. She was a diplomat of the first order, having the ability to get a very diverse group of people to all get along, at least while she was around. I'll miss her for many reasons. But I'll carry a bit of her with me wherever I go and whatever I do. Rest in peace, my friend. I can't say anything more. I hope you heard our song and that it helped.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Weirdness is Getting Weirder...
Life has been very weird lately. The confluence of events is very odd and I'm beginning to wonder more and more.
Not about my own sanity. But about the fact that I may very well be the only sane person left in the room!
I have two friends who are suffering with melanoma. Two. One male, one female. The female is now in Hospice care, and we know how this is going to end. The male is "not doing well" - which is kind of what I expected because he found out very late in the game, after it had spread.
So the male, I'm in contact with via "How are you" and "I'm praying for you" notes because we work together. We're friends but in a professional capacity. He was my professor and now that I work at the university, he has classes in my facility, so we're "work friends" and he's one of my favorite instructors.
The female I'm closer to on the basis of "being a friend." We hold totally opposite political beliefs, she's a smoker and a "we love to camp in the summer" person, who is a total sun-bunny. I'm a vehement anti-smoker, a liberal-Birkenstock-wearing-tree-hugger, hates-to-camp kind of person. I'm pale. I go from pale to "burned" in about 20 minutes WITH sunscreen!
But we bonded in a true friendship where we honor our differences. And I cherish that. We are the same age. I'm sad that I'm losing a friend at my own age.
That being said, she owned the yarn shop where I used to hang out. I actually still hang out there, because the new owner is a nice woman keeping up the yarn community that my friend started. And she's running a small business...I'd rather buy my yarn and other knitting stuff there - giving a local business run by a woman my dollars, instead of a big-box (which also has crappy yarns, but I digress).
There are a group of knitters, who lately I've begun referring to as "The Knot-Heads" because at least one of them (maybe two) is displaying an enormous amount of immaturity. Yes, we all mourn differently. We all have that right, based upon what we've grown up with, our personalities and how we handle life's curveballs.
But this gal ("Audrey") is taking the "it's all about MEEEEEEEEEEE" thing so far that I'm ready to just scream. There's another person in the group who is very verbal and outgoing to the point of also kind of being a "me, me, me" person, but deep down, "Jessica" has a heart of gold and will do whatever she thinks will help you. My friend is in Hospice, for God's sake. She doesn't need a "friend" who is determined to out-mourn the rest of us. Nice phrase, huh? Well, it describes a person who is determined to be the one who cries the most, gets hysterical the most, inserts herself in the family's way the most....all the while actually doing nothing for anyone except creating chaos.
Which is the last thing this family needs. Do I always agree with what my friend's husband has done and the decisions they've made? Nope.
Is it my duty or right to say so? Nope. Nope. N-O-P-E. Absolutely frickin' not. I don't care if they brought in a witch doctor to do a rain dance and hang seaweed and entrails around her bed. Well, I care, but the point is, it's not my decision and not my place to tell them what to do.
So, "Audrey," one of the "Knot-Heads" has decided that she's in charge. And my friend's mom is so focused on what's in front of her -- her daughter dying -- that she can't see what's going on with this person. She's also a perennial "everyone is a nice person" kind of gal, till you cross her. My object is to make sure she doesn't have to be crossed, because let's face it -- your kid dying trumps just about anything else that happens to anyone else. In other words, "Audrey" has no right to impose herself in this situation with anyone. "Audrey" needs to grow up and get over herself. Fast.
"Audrey" got mad at me because I went over to visit. She won't, however, confront me. She'll leave others to do this - which I found out by phone calls (lots of them) from "Jessica." Which really doesn't bother me. Squeal away, kiddo. Knock your socks off. One thing I've learned is to "act like a duck" and let it roll off your back. If it won't materially hurt me, why do I waste my energy on this?
I was talking to my mom, though, because she's friends with the mom in this situation.... like a 30+ year friendship. My mom, even though she drives me insane sometimes, is a great anchor. She totally will handle your situation; talk you through it; hand you tissues.... and then after it's all over, will fall apart. I'm pretty much a carbon copy of that. I'll handle what you toss at me; I'll do everything except hold your head while you barf (because I'm a community barfer); give you advice if you want it, or just hold your hand if you need that; and then when it's over, I'm done and I fall apart.
So, I've been asked by "Jessica" to come with her when she visits our friend this coming Monday. "Audrey" is peeved (to put it mildly) and "may just run out there Friday." I felt compelled to talk to my mom because I'm at a loss; not that I don't know how to handle it, because I know how *I* want to handle it. But I wanted some advice from my mom on whether to do anything or how to do it without overstepping into the bounds of the family.
My mom is going to talk to her friend and just give her a head's up because she also believes that "Audrey" is a person who has no boundaries and that the family is the ultimate arbiter of how they handle this journey. Nobody else.
I've told my mom, "Please make your friend understand: I don't care if they all call me and vent on me. It's better to do it to me than to your friend!! She doesn't need this." But what I don't want is to have her friend think that I'm an instigator of the school-girl crap. I believe she knows me well enough, so I don't think that'll be an issue. I also think my mom's in a better position to let her friend know that there may be drama. I think "forewarned is forearmed" in this case.
I hate this crap. I'm devastated that I know two people who're suffering with this awful cancer. I've actually made a dermatologist appointment for myself - which may be a good thing, if I'm more aware...but it's scary. And I really don't want to have to be the only sane person in the room.
But I think that if you are that person, you just are. You just have to deal with it, I guess, and you have to realize that maybe this is your gift to the family. Your presence is calming, hopefully, and you are doing something useful. I've never been a "weeper and moaner" and I can't see myself doing that now.
I'll hold it together. I'll help do what I need to do. But I'll still want to smack "Audrey" (and really, "Jessica" too because please........ everyone grow up!). I'm telling' ya. If you're gonna be the only sane person in the room, you have to cultivate a great poker face. I'm still working on that!
Not about my own sanity. But about the fact that I may very well be the only sane person left in the room!
I have two friends who are suffering with melanoma. Two. One male, one female. The female is now in Hospice care, and we know how this is going to end. The male is "not doing well" - which is kind of what I expected because he found out very late in the game, after it had spread.
So the male, I'm in contact with via "How are you" and "I'm praying for you" notes because we work together. We're friends but in a professional capacity. He was my professor and now that I work at the university, he has classes in my facility, so we're "work friends" and he's one of my favorite instructors.
The female I'm closer to on the basis of "being a friend." We hold totally opposite political beliefs, she's a smoker and a "we love to camp in the summer" person, who is a total sun-bunny. I'm a vehement anti-smoker, a liberal-Birkenstock-wearing-tree-hugger, hates-to-camp kind of person. I'm pale. I go from pale to "burned" in about 20 minutes WITH sunscreen!
But we bonded in a true friendship where we honor our differences. And I cherish that. We are the same age. I'm sad that I'm losing a friend at my own age.
That being said, she owned the yarn shop where I used to hang out. I actually still hang out there, because the new owner is a nice woman keeping up the yarn community that my friend started. And she's running a small business...I'd rather buy my yarn and other knitting stuff there - giving a local business run by a woman my dollars, instead of a big-box (which also has crappy yarns, but I digress).
There are a group of knitters, who lately I've begun referring to as "The Knot-Heads" because at least one of them (maybe two) is displaying an enormous amount of immaturity. Yes, we all mourn differently. We all have that right, based upon what we've grown up with, our personalities and how we handle life's curveballs.
But this gal ("Audrey") is taking the "it's all about MEEEEEEEEEEE" thing so far that I'm ready to just scream. There's another person in the group who is very verbal and outgoing to the point of also kind of being a "me, me, me" person, but deep down, "Jessica" has a heart of gold and will do whatever she thinks will help you. My friend is in Hospice, for God's sake. She doesn't need a "friend" who is determined to out-mourn the rest of us. Nice phrase, huh? Well, it describes a person who is determined to be the one who cries the most, gets hysterical the most, inserts herself in the family's way the most....all the while actually doing nothing for anyone except creating chaos.
Which is the last thing this family needs. Do I always agree with what my friend's husband has done and the decisions they've made? Nope.
Is it my duty or right to say so? Nope. Nope. N-O-P-E. Absolutely frickin' not. I don't care if they brought in a witch doctor to do a rain dance and hang seaweed and entrails around her bed. Well, I care, but the point is, it's not my decision and not my place to tell them what to do.
So, "Audrey," one of the "Knot-Heads" has decided that she's in charge. And my friend's mom is so focused on what's in front of her -- her daughter dying -- that she can't see what's going on with this person. She's also a perennial "everyone is a nice person" kind of gal, till you cross her. My object is to make sure she doesn't have to be crossed, because let's face it -- your kid dying trumps just about anything else that happens to anyone else. In other words, "Audrey" has no right to impose herself in this situation with anyone. "Audrey" needs to grow up and get over herself. Fast.
"Audrey" got mad at me because I went over to visit. She won't, however, confront me. She'll leave others to do this - which I found out by phone calls (lots of them) from "Jessica." Which really doesn't bother me. Squeal away, kiddo. Knock your socks off. One thing I've learned is to "act like a duck" and let it roll off your back. If it won't materially hurt me, why do I waste my energy on this?
I was talking to my mom, though, because she's friends with the mom in this situation.... like a 30+ year friendship. My mom, even though she drives me insane sometimes, is a great anchor. She totally will handle your situation; talk you through it; hand you tissues.... and then after it's all over, will fall apart. I'm pretty much a carbon copy of that. I'll handle what you toss at me; I'll do everything except hold your head while you barf (because I'm a community barfer); give you advice if you want it, or just hold your hand if you need that; and then when it's over, I'm done and I fall apart.
So, I've been asked by "Jessica" to come with her when she visits our friend this coming Monday. "Audrey" is peeved (to put it mildly) and "may just run out there Friday." I felt compelled to talk to my mom because I'm at a loss; not that I don't know how to handle it, because I know how *I* want to handle it. But I wanted some advice from my mom on whether to do anything or how to do it without overstepping into the bounds of the family.
My mom is going to talk to her friend and just give her a head's up because she also believes that "Audrey" is a person who has no boundaries and that the family is the ultimate arbiter of how they handle this journey. Nobody else.
I've told my mom, "Please make your friend understand: I don't care if they all call me and vent on me. It's better to do it to me than to your friend!! She doesn't need this." But what I don't want is to have her friend think that I'm an instigator of the school-girl crap. I believe she knows me well enough, so I don't think that'll be an issue. I also think my mom's in a better position to let her friend know that there may be drama. I think "forewarned is forearmed" in this case.
I hate this crap. I'm devastated that I know two people who're suffering with this awful cancer. I've actually made a dermatologist appointment for myself - which may be a good thing, if I'm more aware...but it's scary. And I really don't want to have to be the only sane person in the room.
But I think that if you are that person, you just are. You just have to deal with it, I guess, and you have to realize that maybe this is your gift to the family. Your presence is calming, hopefully, and you are doing something useful. I've never been a "weeper and moaner" and I can't see myself doing that now.
I'll hold it together. I'll help do what I need to do. But I'll still want to smack "Audrey" (and really, "Jessica" too because please........ everyone grow up!). I'm telling' ya. If you're gonna be the only sane person in the room, you have to cultivate a great poker face. I'm still working on that!
Monday, April 30, 2012
Monday Musings....
It's Monday and it's raining and I haven't blogged for a while and there are several things to cover. So...........
1. My friend Jan and her family are mourning the death of her nephew Christopher, USN. He was a demolitions expert in Afghanistan. He and his entire group were killed when an IED exploded under his humvee. Christopher not only shares a name with one of my kids, but he's the same age. I am still trying to wrap my head around this because if my kid had been inclined to join the military (and he's not), this could've been me writing this message. I grieve with her because this young man sounds like a lovely person; I never met him, but he has a close-knit family and community who are mourning the loss of yet another life in a war which has been fought since before Jesus.
When you pray or meditate or take quiet time or whatever you do, please spare a thought for those young people who have died in this senseless war and also for their families and communities.
2. My fantastic therapy dog and I have a new gig as a fill-in for the Child Advocacy Center. It's to help parents and children in the pre-interview room. I will not go into the interviews; it's not allowed, which is fine with me. But I think Tippi the Wonder-Dog will be a great fit there. When we went for an interview, everyone but one grumpy guard loved her.
3. Forty minutes of complete panic. Hubby calls and says, "I've lost my wallet." Yikes!! Called the doc's office; he runs to the doc, to the dog park, to the grocery store... Then Kid #2 calls and says he found it at home. Whewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!! Bullet dodged.
4. The carb detox is working fine; it's a good thing that I'm the kind of person who can eat the same thing over and over and over and.... wait, I'm talking myself out of this!! Anyway, it's getting easier to avoid the "white processed" stuff, though today I fell slightly off the wagon. (sigh) It happens.
5. I'm going to be calling my friend Sonda. Hospice is coming in to evaluate her this week. It's not looking good from a survival perspective, but Hospice is such a gift.
6. The conservatives who continually pound us over the head with "What the Founders wanted" and "no *^&% mandates" need to read history. I know it's hard, and there are some big words. However, even George WASHINGTON issued mandates for ship owners to buy insurance on their crew, and for longshoremen to have health insurance. Mandates, folks. We shouldn't make it a dirty word.
7. Just about done with a mala bag. I have a lovely clear quartz mala and it needs its own bag. I'm using some more of Sonda's blue hand-dyed yarn, which is what I used for my "quick winter hat" that does NOT slouch. I'm working on the i-cord now.
8. My foot hurts. There are less than 39 days left till the Avon 2-Day Walk; I've made my financial goal (yay!) but now my foot hurts. I think the plantar fasciitis is acting up. Lovely. Can I do the whole thing on my elliptical so it's all low-impact?? I didn't think so.
Gotta get used to this new blogger format. It's very strange.
1. My friend Jan and her family are mourning the death of her nephew Christopher, USN. He was a demolitions expert in Afghanistan. He and his entire group were killed when an IED exploded under his humvee. Christopher not only shares a name with one of my kids, but he's the same age. I am still trying to wrap my head around this because if my kid had been inclined to join the military (and he's not), this could've been me writing this message. I grieve with her because this young man sounds like a lovely person; I never met him, but he has a close-knit family and community who are mourning the loss of yet another life in a war which has been fought since before Jesus.
When you pray or meditate or take quiet time or whatever you do, please spare a thought for those young people who have died in this senseless war and also for their families and communities.
2. My fantastic therapy dog and I have a new gig as a fill-in for the Child Advocacy Center. It's to help parents and children in the pre-interview room. I will not go into the interviews; it's not allowed, which is fine with me. But I think Tippi the Wonder-Dog will be a great fit there. When we went for an interview, everyone but one grumpy guard loved her.
3. Forty minutes of complete panic. Hubby calls and says, "I've lost my wallet." Yikes!! Called the doc's office; he runs to the doc, to the dog park, to the grocery store... Then Kid #2 calls and says he found it at home. Whewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!! Bullet dodged.
4. The carb detox is working fine; it's a good thing that I'm the kind of person who can eat the same thing over and over and over and.... wait, I'm talking myself out of this!! Anyway, it's getting easier to avoid the "white processed" stuff, though today I fell slightly off the wagon. (sigh) It happens.
5. I'm going to be calling my friend Sonda. Hospice is coming in to evaluate her this week. It's not looking good from a survival perspective, but Hospice is such a gift.
6. The conservatives who continually pound us over the head with "What the Founders wanted" and "no *^&% mandates" need to read history. I know it's hard, and there are some big words. However, even George WASHINGTON issued mandates for ship owners to buy insurance on their crew, and for longshoremen to have health insurance. Mandates, folks. We shouldn't make it a dirty word.
7. Just about done with a mala bag. I have a lovely clear quartz mala and it needs its own bag. I'm using some more of Sonda's blue hand-dyed yarn, which is what I used for my "quick winter hat" that does NOT slouch. I'm working on the i-cord now.
8. My foot hurts. There are less than 39 days left till the Avon 2-Day Walk; I've made my financial goal (yay!) but now my foot hurts. I think the plantar fasciitis is acting up. Lovely. Can I do the whole thing on my elliptical so it's all low-impact?? I didn't think so.
Gotta get used to this new blogger format. It's very strange.
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