So you know that feeling, when you fall off your bike as an adult and you really want your mommy? I'm totally with you on that one. Any mommy will do so long as they hug you and put that very important over-sized band aid on your owie.
But when I'm sick? Not like a cold sick, because everyone wants to stay away then anyway, but like, my head hurts so much really I'm just touch-typing so forgive any odd errors? And please don't turn on the lights, they hurt my eyes... That kind of sick? As soon as I think how awesome a psychic link to a parental-like unit would be and could they come take care of me...almost immediately I wince...and then I wince again because MY HEAD HURTS! DON'T MOVE IT THAT WAY! And think ugh, no, please everyone just leave me alone in my misery.
And the people around me (not literally, because see above I've sent them away, I mean, like the ones I know) look at me all strange that I want to go lick my wounds (as it were) on my own instead of having someone fussing over me. Why are you here? What are you doing aside from feeling helpless because you can't do anything? Because that's what I feel when I'm taking care of you, you know...but like any time I'm called on to look after someone. Even when I know I can cook you a meal or draw you a bath or make your bed, the entire time I'm thinking I'm totally useless because none of this is easing your pain or making you feel better. I can't take that away directly so what good am I doing? (I did mention broken?)
So it must be that others don't feel this way, even when they're trying (and I'm not letting them) to tend to me. They must feel...something. It's no surprise to anyone that I didn't go into the medical profession, is it?
But I've been getting these SLAM YOU UPSIDE THE HEAD headaches way past allergy season, so I thought I'd note it down to keep track. Today, yep, have one. It's unusually warm (73 degrees predicted) for the end of September. Maybe something is still blooming? My sinuses seem to think so.
Wednesday, September 30, 2015
Monday, August 17, 2015
At Least It Wasn't A Tether Ball Pole...
I'm calling it a win-win situation here. I have a short-term built in excuse for being even more clumsy than usual. Head injuries will do that.
And my boyfriend has officially learned that BAD THINGS HAPPEN when I get rushed.
Also? Lesson learned. Push your car door open PAST the resistance/bounce-back point.
So I have a new car. (YEY! New car!) And I'm the first to admit that I'm still learning all the random details associated with it - I think I may have finally figured out how to make a radio preset...no really, it's harder than you'd think - you have the 8 buttons on the radio, but buahaha, magically you can have 40 presets if you enter the right combination of A, B, Left Arrow, Select, Right Arrow, Start - sorry, I was getting the it mixed up with the Konami codes of yore. Seriously I feel old and out of touch with some of these things. My car has NO DIPSTICK! I have to push buttons (again, in the right order) to get Skynet to tell me if I'm burning up my engine!
Where was I? Right. Head injury.
No, it is not because the car is so small I bumped myself getting in or out of it. That would be funny in it's own right, but my 5' 3-ish" stature is EXACTLY the right size for this car. Short people rule!
I hit my forehead...or rather, my forehead was hit by the driver's side door/window bouncing/swinging right into it (see above point of resistance). Looking at this more positively, had I been taller I guess I might have broken my nose. I was rushing (see above, don't make me rush) to move my car when I "jumped" in (as fast as my sad sore broken body does said "jumping" - obviously NOT fast enough) to move my car out of the way so we could go get some dinner.
The pain was at a level where you don't even yell. You go all quiet because OMG what just happened. And you're sitting there holding on to your head absolutely sure you've just lost brain matter...but you haven't, because it was just the window. The not-very thick, in fact very straight-lined and narrow window that has blessed you with it's marking. Why yes, I am indeed walking around with a red line across one side of my forehead going up into my hairline. I know, work the sexy.
And again, at least it wasn't a tether ball pole that a random classmate had taken a running jump at to "swing off" of (because who puts tether balls on those poles anyway? Why would anyone actually PLAY with playground equipment... At least I wasn't in elementary school (6th grade? 7th? hard to recall - possibly because of the injury). At least I wasn't KNOCKED TO THE GROUND, hard. At least this time my awesome flowered panties weren't exposed to the playground...and finally, at least it hasn't left me with a golf-ball sized bump that didn't go away overnight. Ah memories...And you wonder why I hated recess.
A coworker had a birthday celebration today. I think I deserve an extra slice of cake after all this awesome reminiscing. And some Advil.
And my boyfriend has officially learned that BAD THINGS HAPPEN when I get rushed.
Also? Lesson learned. Push your car door open PAST the resistance/bounce-back point.
So I have a new car. (YEY! New car!) And I'm the first to admit that I'm still learning all the random details associated with it - I think I may have finally figured out how to make a radio preset...no really, it's harder than you'd think - you have the 8 buttons on the radio, but buahaha, magically you can have 40 presets if you enter the right combination of A, B, Left Arrow, Select, Right Arrow, Start - sorry, I was getting the it mixed up with the Konami codes of yore. Seriously I feel old and out of touch with some of these things. My car has NO DIPSTICK! I have to push buttons (again, in the right order) to get Skynet to tell me if I'm burning up my engine!
Where was I? Right. Head injury.
No, it is not because the car is so small I bumped myself getting in or out of it. That would be funny in it's own right, but my 5' 3-ish" stature is EXACTLY the right size for this car. Short people rule!
I hit my forehead...or rather, my forehead was hit by the driver's side door/window bouncing/swinging right into it (see above point of resistance). Looking at this more positively, had I been taller I guess I might have broken my nose. I was rushing (see above, don't make me rush) to move my car when I "jumped" in (as fast as my sad sore broken body does said "jumping" - obviously NOT fast enough) to move my car out of the way so we could go get some dinner.
The pain was at a level where you don't even yell. You go all quiet because OMG what just happened. And you're sitting there holding on to your head absolutely sure you've just lost brain matter...but you haven't, because it was just the window. The not-very thick, in fact very straight-lined and narrow window that has blessed you with it's marking. Why yes, I am indeed walking around with a red line across one side of my forehead going up into my hairline. I know, work the sexy.
And again, at least it wasn't a tether ball pole that a random classmate had taken a running jump at to "swing off" of (because who puts tether balls on those poles anyway? Why would anyone actually PLAY with playground equipment... At least I wasn't in elementary school (6th grade? 7th? hard to recall - possibly because of the injury). At least I wasn't KNOCKED TO THE GROUND, hard. At least this time my awesome flowered panties weren't exposed to the playground...and finally, at least it hasn't left me with a golf-ball sized bump that didn't go away overnight. Ah memories...And you wonder why I hated recess.
A coworker had a birthday celebration today. I think I deserve an extra slice of cake after all this awesome reminiscing. And some Advil.
Tuesday, June 09, 2015
Hello Summer!
Yes, must be going mad if I'm addressing the seasons now.
Right. Well. Let's pretend it hasn't been 4 months and jump right in.
Technology is awesome sometimes. I am sitting here watching my 10 year old computer (a mac mini, the smallest computer I thought I'd ever own, you know, before my cell phone ended up with a faster processor and hard drive) copy onto a 32 gig usb drive that is smaller than my thumbnail. Heh, it's a thumbnail drive!
I'm only copying off the music. (Oh? My invisible internet readers ask, whyeverfor? Okay, you probably don't really talk like that but I might have been watching too much Michael Mcintyre recently and he does, so now you do...)
See, I'm upgrading vehicles. My new one, apparently, does not come with a CD player. I know, right? What is this world coming to! Technology is silly sometimes too...but worry not new car owner, you can just connect your fancy fone (tm) to the car and viola! You can become one of the Borg and meld with us (okay, way too many multiple and bad sci-fi references).
Except:
So I've been sitting here watching the progress bar slowly slide across...I had NO IDEA how much music I owned. This is only what I digitized 10 years ago, mind. Somewhere along the way I uploaded different music onto the laptop that "replaced" my mini (it's still good as a dvd player, but not much else.) Stage two will be to sort and delete. And yeah, while I waited I thought maybe I'd update the world - still here. Still knitting! Still studying. Life is good, promise.
Right. Well. Let's pretend it hasn't been 4 months and jump right in.
Technology is awesome sometimes. I am sitting here watching my 10 year old computer (a mac mini, the smallest computer I thought I'd ever own, you know, before my cell phone ended up with a faster processor and hard drive) copy onto a 32 gig usb drive that is smaller than my thumbnail. Heh, it's a thumbnail drive!
I'm only copying off the music. (Oh? My invisible internet readers ask, whyeverfor? Okay, you probably don't really talk like that but I might have been watching too much Michael Mcintyre recently and he does, so now you do...)
See, I'm upgrading vehicles. My new one, apparently, does not come with a CD player. I know, right? What is this world coming to! Technology is silly sometimes too...but worry not new car owner, you can just connect your fancy fone (tm) to the car and viola! You can become one of the Borg and meld with us (okay, way too many multiple and bad sci-fi references).
Except:
- I was raised on all those Terminator films and I purposefully chose NOT to install skynet in my new car. I know, I know, I am a luddite and the machines will hunt me down for my punishment...so why make it so easy for them to find me and my escape vehicle?
- Also, my fancy fone is going on 3 years too old. I (gasp) use it to make phone calls, text, and navigate my way out of a paper sack, because I was not born with any sense of direction, and yes, play music. Four things, only ONE of which can happen at a time because going on 3 years too old...given that I'll be using my car to, you know, get places, and see above no KIT car advances, I'm going to keep relying on my lovely google maps to tell me which left to take.
So I've been sitting here watching the progress bar slowly slide across...I had NO IDEA how much music I owned. This is only what I digitized 10 years ago, mind. Somewhere along the way I uploaded different music onto the laptop that "replaced" my mini (it's still good as a dvd player, but not much else.) Stage two will be to sort and delete. And yeah, while I waited I thought maybe I'd update the world - still here. Still knitting! Still studying. Life is good, promise.
Tuesday, February 03, 2015
Right, Updating
I've been listening to Steven Briggs read me the Tiffany Aching Terry Pratchett Novels and my first thought was to re-use the Granny Weatherwax "I Aint'nt Dead" title...but then my second thoughts kicked in...(heh)
What? You haven't read this series? (Had it read to you? Audio books, how I adore thee.) Get ye to a library, STAT! These are such a must read/listen. I'm going to send the Wee Free Men to my niece this Xmas, I think. I /really/ hope she likes it...it would make my Terry-Pratchett-reading heart swell. But not too much, I hear that's a disease in real life. And there is news there might be a fifth book coming!!! (Squee!) Except I'm forty and we don't squee. Yes. Right. Ahem.
So yeah, what news....people I have nothing. I'm in some sort of funk. I'm really tired too. Yep, still haven't caught up with that whole sleep thing. Working full time and taking one bloody class? I do not know how people do it. Or maybe they take ones that don't require 15 page research papers and such? Oh my yes. Multiple weekly homework assignments, extra reading, MATHS PROBLEMS, and now a freakin' research paper that was not presented as such - it was described as a 15 min. group presentation (yep, group work, good god how I abhor group work) with power point slides. How this = RESEARCH paper, I have no idea.
Right, so yeah, still in school. For now. I did pass last quarter with a much higher grade than expected and then signed up for the WRONG TEACHER entirely for my needs for the "part two" class. If all I were doing was this class I still don't think I'd have enough time to do the work in a way she expects it. I'm burning the candle at both ends and am melting up the middle to see if I can do it there too. If I were smug I'd say I aced the first test but OMG there was no "ace." It was very hard work. I made myself sick worrying about it. I think I need to take next quarter off. Seriously. If my first quarter teacher isn't teaching part three? Yeah, fuggetaboutit. I yield. Uncle.
I've put it on the interwebs, so I really must mean it.
And hello to you all and happy new year! And who knows when I'll sneak some time to do this again soon...heh.
What? You haven't read this series? (Had it read to you? Audio books, how I adore thee.) Get ye to a library, STAT! These are such a must read/listen. I'm going to send the Wee Free Men to my niece this Xmas, I think. I /really/ hope she likes it...it would make my Terry-Pratchett-reading heart swell. But not too much, I hear that's a disease in real life. And there is news there might be a fifth book coming!!! (Squee!) Except I'm forty and we don't squee. Yes. Right. Ahem.
So yeah, what news....people I have nothing. I'm in some sort of funk. I'm really tired too. Yep, still haven't caught up with that whole sleep thing. Working full time and taking one bloody class? I do not know how people do it. Or maybe they take ones that don't require 15 page research papers and such? Oh my yes. Multiple weekly homework assignments, extra reading, MATHS PROBLEMS, and now a freakin' research paper that was not presented as such - it was described as a 15 min. group presentation (yep, group work, good god how I abhor group work) with power point slides. How this = RESEARCH paper, I have no idea.
Right, so yeah, still in school. For now. I did pass last quarter with a much higher grade than expected and then signed up for the WRONG TEACHER entirely for my needs for the "part two" class. If all I were doing was this class I still don't think I'd have enough time to do the work in a way she expects it. I'm burning the candle at both ends and am melting up the middle to see if I can do it there too. If I were smug I'd say I aced the first test but OMG there was no "ace." It was very hard work. I made myself sick worrying about it. I think I need to take next quarter off. Seriously. If my first quarter teacher isn't teaching part three? Yeah, fuggetaboutit. I yield. Uncle.
I've put it on the interwebs, so I really must mean it.
And hello to you all and happy new year! And who knows when I'll sneak some time to do this again soon...heh.
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
I Need More Sleep
I am assuming it is sleep deprivation that is making me grumpy. No, not grumpy...on edge. Yes. Extra sensitive, even more yes.
I have too many work people on my Face-place feed to make this next statement:
If YOU did not put the kettle to boil someone else did. That someone is PROBABLY the person gathering her things to make tea. DO NOT plant yourself in front of the kettle thinking you can take the boiling water BEFORE the person who filled and set the kettle to boil. DO.NOT.
I almost got Mr. Furious on her. Seriously, it's stupid, and yet (not the best quality, but if you're angry enough you don't see straight anyway):
YEP, need more sleep....
I have too many work people on my Face-place feed to make this next statement:
If YOU did not put the kettle to boil someone else did. That someone is PROBABLY the person gathering her things to make tea. DO NOT plant yourself in front of the kettle thinking you can take the boiling water BEFORE the person who filled and set the kettle to boil. DO.NOT.
I almost got Mr. Furious on her. Seriously, it's stupid, and yet (not the best quality, but if you're angry enough you don't see straight anyway):
YEP, need more sleep....
Wednesday, October 08, 2014
Guilt Post
It's been twice this month since, when commenting on someone else's blog post) I was asked to type in my blog address. You know, this one, the one I last tried my hand at writing something, in May. Granted it is still 2014. And it was Summer (doesn't everyone take Summer off?) Yes, I'm making excuses.
But it was Summer. And even the Seattle Times was calling it our "neverending" summer. Because Monday? Yes, TWO DAYS ago? I kid you not, it was 77 degrees. Yes, October. Yes, 77. Not a type-o. But then yesterday happened and I guess it's officially Fall now for the rest of the week.
I'd complain more but I haven't actually been leaving work during the hot and humid afternoons. I've been staying far far FAR too late into the night as I've decided to do something super crazy pants...I've started taking an Accounting class. Those of you know know me IRL are like, um, "Why? Isn't that what you like do already?" And yes. And the fact is (or so my transcripts tell me) I've never taken a business OR accounting class EVER and if I wanted to, oh I dunno, take the CPA exam - NOT THAT I AM, just, you know, in case, I have to have a million (maybe not /that/ many) accounting or business class credits in order to qualify for it. It doesn't matter that I have multiple degrees, they don't care - okay, they want me to have a BA, but it doesn't matter in what, which is good. What counts are the units.
I took one Economics class in College. I'm still not sure if that counts. If it does then I only need to take like 6 more classes and then the UW Accounting Certificate course...and then I'll be set. At the rate I'm going it'll take me about... 6 years. And I've committed to nothing except taking this one class. I think my coworkers hoped it'd be a "gateway class" that will leave me wanting more. As it is I am thisclose to signing up for next quarter because we are only using HALF the text book! This means the other half will be used for the next class and damnit I didn't pay $303 to only use half a book! (Yep, $300 for a textbook, highway robbery.) So instead I'll pay another $540 (OMG school is expensive) so that I can have been tortured for two whole quarters instead of one! And by then I'll think, there is only one more course in the series...why not the third...
Okay, I guess I've committed myself to $2k worth of classes, damn you co-workers.
So yeah...this class is not my excuse for not visiting this site. This is only week three. But it already seems like I've always had to work until 10 PM. It's been 17 years since I last took a class. It's not quite like riding a bike. Not when you're working 40+ hours a week.
And there's my alarm - yes, timed blogging. But I think I got enough out for now.
But it was Summer. And even the Seattle Times was calling it our "neverending" summer. Because Monday? Yes, TWO DAYS ago? I kid you not, it was 77 degrees. Yes, October. Yes, 77. Not a type-o. But then yesterday happened and I guess it's officially Fall now for the rest of the week.
I'd complain more but I haven't actually been leaving work during the hot and humid afternoons. I've been staying far far FAR too late into the night as I've decided to do something super crazy pants...I've started taking an Accounting class. Those of you know know me IRL are like, um, "Why? Isn't that what you like do already?" And yes. And the fact is (or so my transcripts tell me) I've never taken a business OR accounting class EVER and if I wanted to, oh I dunno, take the CPA exam - NOT THAT I AM, just, you know, in case, I have to have a million (maybe not /that/ many) accounting or business class credits in order to qualify for it. It doesn't matter that I have multiple degrees, they don't care - okay, they want me to have a BA, but it doesn't matter in what, which is good. What counts are the units.
I took one Economics class in College. I'm still not sure if that counts. If it does then I only need to take like 6 more classes and then the UW Accounting Certificate course...and then I'll be set. At the rate I'm going it'll take me about... 6 years. And I've committed to nothing except taking this one class. I think my coworkers hoped it'd be a "gateway class" that will leave me wanting more. As it is I am thisclose to signing up for next quarter because we are only using HALF the text book! This means the other half will be used for the next class and damnit I didn't pay $303 to only use half a book! (Yep, $300 for a textbook, highway robbery.) So instead I'll pay another $540 (OMG school is expensive) so that I can have been tortured for two whole quarters instead of one! And by then I'll think, there is only one more course in the series...why not the third...
Okay, I guess I've committed myself to $2k worth of classes, damn you co-workers.
So yeah...this class is not my excuse for not visiting this site. This is only week three. But it already seems like I've always had to work until 10 PM. It's been 17 years since I last took a class. It's not quite like riding a bike. Not when you're working 40+ hours a week.
And there's my alarm - yes, timed blogging. But I think I got enough out for now.
Wednesday, May 07, 2014
Vacations for Everyone!
The good news is that the person covering for me did not dump everything she didn't get to back on my plate the moment I got back.
The bad news is that the temp, whose contract ended while I was out, did not do the work I assigned her while I was gone...and this wasn't found out until just now...days before our next set of deadlines. Um, "yey." (If you can read that in that small voice Cyril - form Archer uses? Yeah, that's me right now...)
The really really bad news is that I am jet-lagged. But for why you might ask? Because I've been living in THE FUTURE for the last three weeks. And time travel is no joke. Just ask my addled system that, though the sun is SHINING IN MY FACE, is utterly convinced it really is the middle of the night tomorrow. This must be what it's like to go through a summer in the upper latitudes, you know, where the sun doesn't go down? Yeah. I understand now. Not that I ever thought I needed to.
And yet! I think everyone needs a multi-week vacation. It is fantabulous! The whole not being at work? It takes a whole week for your body to just get used to not being at work! It's that second week that you finally relax and remember what it feels like for your shoulders to NOT be stuck to the bottom of your earlobes! It's week three that I started checking work emails...but only, you know, when there was both internet AND down time. The two did not coincide very often. Not complaining too much.
And where did I go? Down under. And I did not die!
Will I survive this jet lag thing though? Still remains to be seen. Must.Find.Caffeine.
The bad news is that the temp, whose contract ended while I was out, did not do the work I assigned her while I was gone...and this wasn't found out until just now...days before our next set of deadlines. Um, "yey." (If you can read that in that small voice Cyril - form Archer uses? Yeah, that's me right now...)
The really really bad news is that I am jet-lagged. But for why you might ask? Because I've been living in THE FUTURE for the last three weeks. And time travel is no joke. Just ask my addled system that, though the sun is SHINING IN MY FACE, is utterly convinced it really is the middle of the night tomorrow. This must be what it's like to go through a summer in the upper latitudes, you know, where the sun doesn't go down? Yeah. I understand now. Not that I ever thought I needed to.
And yet! I think everyone needs a multi-week vacation. It is fantabulous! The whole not being at work? It takes a whole week for your body to just get used to not being at work! It's that second week that you finally relax and remember what it feels like for your shoulders to NOT be stuck to the bottom of your earlobes! It's week three that I started checking work emails...but only, you know, when there was both internet AND down time. The two did not coincide very often. Not complaining too much.
And where did I go? Down under. And I did not die!
Will I survive this jet lag thing though? Still remains to be seen. Must.Find.Caffeine.
Thursday, February 13, 2014
The New Normal...
I wasn't due for a booster shot for another 2 or 3 years (I've already started to forget the date, such is my talent. No really, I completely spaced that Valentine's Day is tomorrow about 20 minutes after ordering my mom's flowers. It's not that I forget things - yey calendar reminders - it's just that dates are not my thing, it seems. I know your birthday is sometime in February, or March, or July...and maybe have the date written down somewhere...but if I call or email you ON THE DAY OF, most likely it was serendipity unless I put a calendar reminder to call/email ON THE DAY. This is the long-winded way of saying I'm sorry if I've missed your birthday this year, I guess. Heh. Where was I? Booster shots!) but apparently the last one was prior to PANDEMIC WHOOPING COUGH or whatever increase in worry there is this year, and my doctor disliked the idea of my catching Pertussis.
I too am anti-coughing my lungs out if at all possible, so unlike my avoidance of the flu shot - because I did come out and say, "No, thank you," when they offered, I told them to make it quick and not make me cry too much and just give me TDAP jab on Monday morning.
Insert your favorite curse phrase here. That tiny little not-even-a-sting? Barely noticed in the middle of jibby-jabbing with the nurse? Holy unsuspected boomerang smack, Batman! I was jolted awake at 3AM Tuesday morning when I rolled onto that shoulder. And then! Because it was so freaking sore! I couldn't use my arm to help me roll back off! I lay there flopping and crying and cursing and generally wondering why I am so good at jolting myself awake in the middle of the night. This is not a talent I need to cultivate.
It wasn't until after 10 AM that the 2nd dose of Advil finally kicked in enough for me to get dressed. And it wore off promptly as I got to work. I had a floppy dead arm because ANY MOVEMENT incited such awesome gobs of pain that yeah, I could even taste it.
The worst, of course, was involuntary or automatic gestures. You know, like when you shrug your shoulders? Or, as I found out, and now you will too, apparently, when I find that $3K in a 26 tabbed spreadsheet, along with the my "Yes!" cry of victory, I raise my arms in a Rocky Balboa Philadelphia Steps accomplishment. This time though? My cry of victory became a very loud dog-getting-hit-by-a-car whimper, and my left arm only came up a little past a shrug. The pain was excruciating.
Yes, I know I am a wuss.
I'm just setting the scene here though because after days of no knitting and jolting myself awake and did I mention no knitting? This morning I got up and started my daily routine and noticed that the pain in my left arm is now about equal to the constant one I feel in my right shoulder (since my bike accident of over 5 years ago - that date thing again) and realized I could totally handle the stinging ache because now, finally, it was at a level I was used to.
Let me rephrase that: The pain, if it so chose, could stop diminishing if it wanted/needed to because we'd reached my "normal."
This thought actually mad me happy for the first few minutes of realization. You know, before I started wondering what the hell is wrong with me? Why being in constant pain is something I consider normal. And if that is the case? Just how crazypants bad was this soreness (and my aforementioned wuss-ocity) if, with twinges aches and stiffness and lowered mobility, I'm considering myself "all better now?"
People, I am not even 40 yet. I am so not going to age gracefully. I hope they perfect the portable morphine drip when the time comes, that's all I'm saying.
I too am anti-coughing my lungs out if at all possible, so unlike my avoidance of the flu shot - because I did come out and say, "No, thank you," when they offered, I told them to make it quick and not make me cry too much and just give me TDAP jab on Monday morning.
Insert your favorite curse phrase here. That tiny little not-even-a-sting? Barely noticed in the middle of jibby-jabbing with the nurse? Holy unsuspected boomerang smack, Batman! I was jolted awake at 3AM Tuesday morning when I rolled onto that shoulder. And then! Because it was so freaking sore! I couldn't use my arm to help me roll back off! I lay there flopping and crying and cursing and generally wondering why I am so good at jolting myself awake in the middle of the night. This is not a talent I need to cultivate.
It wasn't until after 10 AM that the 2nd dose of Advil finally kicked in enough for me to get dressed. And it wore off promptly as I got to work. I had a floppy dead arm because ANY MOVEMENT incited such awesome gobs of pain that yeah, I could even taste it.
The worst, of course, was involuntary or automatic gestures. You know, like when you shrug your shoulders? Or, as I found out, and now you will too, apparently, when I find that $3K in a 26 tabbed spreadsheet, along with the my "Yes!" cry of victory, I raise my arms in a Rocky Balboa Philadelphia Steps accomplishment. This time though? My cry of victory became a very loud dog-getting-hit-by-a-car whimper, and my left arm only came up a little past a shrug. The pain was excruciating.
Yes, I know I am a wuss.
I'm just setting the scene here though because after days of no knitting and jolting myself awake and did I mention no knitting? This morning I got up and started my daily routine and noticed that the pain in my left arm is now about equal to the constant one I feel in my right shoulder (since my bike accident of over 5 years ago - that date thing again) and realized I could totally handle the stinging ache because now, finally, it was at a level I was used to.
Let me rephrase that: The pain, if it so chose, could stop diminishing if it wanted/needed to because we'd reached my "normal."
This thought actually mad me happy for the first few minutes of realization. You know, before I started wondering what the hell is wrong with me? Why being in constant pain is something I consider normal. And if that is the case? Just how crazypants bad was this soreness (and my aforementioned wuss-ocity) if, with twinges aches and stiffness and lowered mobility, I'm considering myself "all better now?"
People, I am not even 40 yet. I am so not going to age gracefully. I hope they perfect the portable morphine drip when the time comes, that's all I'm saying.
Sunday, January 12, 2014
There is Trouble In the Gypsy Village*
I took the weekend off. I had no choice; had I ignored the balloon that my left ankle had become by Friday night, I might have severely injured and possibly incapacitated myself, again. Seeing as I walk the .8 miles between me and work, and I really and truly can't take time off just now, this is just not an option.
So I joined the 61% of America and binged on not just "QI" (no spoilers, I'm only at Series 9, "I"), "Doctor Who" that I have seen (Season 1, all of "#9's" time), but also my most recent guilty pleasure, worse than teenaged vampires in Virginia, so please keep this between you and me..."Family Guy" (season 8. Yes it's horrid, like a train wreck though, I just can't stop watching.) while I kept my leg elevated and furiously knit away on one of two baby hats I needed to have done weeks ago.
I thought I was all better by late this afternoon, as the swelling was gone. Not that that really means anything and I should know better but la la la, as it doesn't hurt (and it doesn't, this is what really makes this stink) it must be okay, right? My ankle is not sprained, you see, nor strained. Not even "bent funny." The horrible swelling is how my posterior tibial tendonitis lets me know I've been bad. Or walked too hard, or far, or something; some day I will know that triggers it. The pain is on the tendon itself, way above the swelling on the inside/back of my shin. Once triggered it is tender to the touch. Very very tender. Accidentally-brush-against-it-with-your-other-foot-while-you-are-sleeping-and-shock-yourself-awake, tender. Sleeping the last few days? A bit difficult. Did I mention this all just sucks?
Anyhow, feeling a bit stir crazy, and getting low on milk, I went off to the store. By the time I got back...yeah, you guessed it, my sock was threatening to cut off the circulation in my toes.
Grrr.
I know, I know, I'm too much in a whiney/feel sorry for me mood. I can't help it. This was a rough week for me.
It started with jury duty. I do feel awesome about fulfilling my civic duty. I do, really, no sarcasm. I really wish there was less sit-around-and-wait time. But would it be government if there wasn't? As this was the first jury duty of 2014, and they had a full docket (thank you "Night Court"), we had to be there the full two days required by the state of Washington to see if we'd be chosen for a jury. Two very long whole days. Two very long days where knitting needles (but any kind of crochet hook) were NOT ALLOWED. Two very long whole days that ended with me going in to work afterwords so that I wouldn't fall too far behind.
I didn't get chosen for a jury. I'm still torn about whether or not this was good thing. I kinda wanted to see what it was all about from start to finish, but having gotten to the voir dire portion of the selection (I was one of 50 in my group), I realized that I couldn't be a part of the trial I'd been picked for pretty early on. My oddball life experiences had me thinking too much...and a bit prejudiced against the system. Oh, hi, is my Santa Cruz showing? Working at a global non-profit whose mission is to make the world a better place does not help. What about the horribleness of this world put the man who was on trial in these straits? Why did he have no other options? This is what I wanted answered before I used the logical side of my brain to take in all the information and decide if the State had proven their case.
But we were all excused before we got to this moment. The accused (innocent until proven guilty), changed his plea. So no closure. Just lots of anxiety and questions, and turmoil. And I was behind on work to boot. So I spent the next three days working way too many hours and making my head and tummy and shoulders ache. Because, talent!
By Friday I was exhausted, dehydrated, sore, irritated, and yeah, the ankle thing. So swollen that walking up the hill home was difficult. Okay, it doesn't hurt, but it does impede movement. I should have been paying more attention as to why it was so hard to walk, even down the hall. See, no excuse. Except maybe the Cleopatra Syndrome. You know, heh heh, living on denial? (The Nile? Hee! It's late, shoot me.)
And as I was just reminded it is a "school night," I need to try to get some sleep. Ice packs, advil, and traumeel, all ready for me to take to work tomorrow. Um, yey?
*According to "QI," this is what the direct translation of the Greek phrase they use for "I don't care." This is why you have to watch QI. Well, and Stephen Fry. And Alan Davies. And all the awesome comic and science-y guests (Brian Cox!) It's all on youtube. Go look.
So I joined the 61% of America and binged on not just "QI" (no spoilers, I'm only at Series 9, "I"), "Doctor Who" that I have seen (Season 1, all of "#9's" time), but also my most recent guilty pleasure, worse than teenaged vampires in Virginia, so please keep this between you and me..."Family Guy" (season 8. Yes it's horrid, like a train wreck though, I just can't stop watching.) while I kept my leg elevated and furiously knit away on one of two baby hats I needed to have done weeks ago.
I thought I was all better by late this afternoon, as the swelling was gone. Not that that really means anything and I should know better but la la la, as it doesn't hurt (and it doesn't, this is what really makes this stink) it must be okay, right? My ankle is not sprained, you see, nor strained. Not even "bent funny." The horrible swelling is how my posterior tibial tendonitis lets me know I've been bad. Or walked too hard, or far, or something; some day I will know that triggers it. The pain is on the tendon itself, way above the swelling on the inside/back of my shin. Once triggered it is tender to the touch. Very very tender. Accidentally-brush-against-it-with-your-other-foot-while-you-are-sleeping-and-shock-yourself-awake, tender. Sleeping the last few days? A bit difficult. Did I mention this all just sucks?
Anyhow, feeling a bit stir crazy, and getting low on milk, I went off to the store. By the time I got back...yeah, you guessed it, my sock was threatening to cut off the circulation in my toes.
Grrr.
I know, I know, I'm too much in a whiney/feel sorry for me mood. I can't help it. This was a rough week for me.
It started with jury duty. I do feel awesome about fulfilling my civic duty. I do, really, no sarcasm. I really wish there was less sit-around-and-wait time. But would it be government if there wasn't? As this was the first jury duty of 2014, and they had a full docket (thank you "Night Court"), we had to be there the full two days required by the state of Washington to see if we'd be chosen for a jury. Two very long whole days. Two very long days where knitting needles (but any kind of crochet hook) were NOT ALLOWED. Two very long whole days that ended with me going in to work afterwords so that I wouldn't fall too far behind.
I didn't get chosen for a jury. I'm still torn about whether or not this was good thing. I kinda wanted to see what it was all about from start to finish, but having gotten to the voir dire portion of the selection (I was one of 50 in my group), I realized that I couldn't be a part of the trial I'd been picked for pretty early on. My oddball life experiences had me thinking too much...and a bit prejudiced against the system. Oh, hi, is my Santa Cruz showing? Working at a global non-profit whose mission is to make the world a better place does not help. What about the horribleness of this world put the man who was on trial in these straits? Why did he have no other options? This is what I wanted answered before I used the logical side of my brain to take in all the information and decide if the State had proven their case.
But we were all excused before we got to this moment. The accused (innocent until proven guilty), changed his plea. So no closure. Just lots of anxiety and questions, and turmoil. And I was behind on work to boot. So I spent the next three days working way too many hours and making my head and tummy and shoulders ache. Because, talent!
By Friday I was exhausted, dehydrated, sore, irritated, and yeah, the ankle thing. So swollen that walking up the hill home was difficult. Okay, it doesn't hurt, but it does impede movement. I should have been paying more attention as to why it was so hard to walk, even down the hall. See, no excuse. Except maybe the Cleopatra Syndrome. You know, heh heh, living on denial? (The Nile? Hee! It's late, shoot me.)
And as I was just reminded it is a "school night," I need to try to get some sleep. Ice packs, advil, and traumeel, all ready for me to take to work tomorrow. Um, yey?
*According to "QI," this is what the direct translation of the Greek phrase they use for "I don't care." This is why you have to watch QI. Well, and Stephen Fry. And Alan Davies. And all the awesome comic and science-y guests (Brian Cox!) It's all on youtube. Go look.
Sunday, December 29, 2013
So Very Lost in Translation
All my mom wanted for xmas, apparently, were wool leg warmers.
This makes me giggle just a little as it was 80 degrees in LA, just a couple days ago, when I found this out. It's not like she was sitting there freezing at the moment. But she was trying to decide whether or not to keep the footless tights I hunted down for her all over Seattle, ones almost thick enough to be leggings that would fit her diminutive figure! (Yey for gift receipts!)
But seriously, were I a religious person, I would swear on a stack of bibles that it was footless tights that she painstakingly described to me (or so I thought). Including telling me that I used to buy them at UCLA when I was in high school (or so I heard). That was what cemented it into my head. They could only be footless tights, or those god awful white waffle-patterned thermal underwear bottoms. (It was an all girls school, warmth beat fashion any day on cold days, even in LA.) Because when I was in high school leg warmers had gone off the school uniform list. But she insists that what she had actually said was what that the girls used to go buy across the street at UCLA. The girls...she worked there for over 27 years. "Girls" could mean anyone between 1976 to 2003...(sigh.) I will, of course, give her the benefit of the doubt. Cuz hey, I get to knit for her!
I've hunted down a pattern and pulled out the only skein of Machine-Washable Cascade 220 wool in a color so not my mom's (dark purple) to test out this pattern. See, the issues my mom will have with regards to obtaining store bought leg warmers, of course, is that they aren't wool, and (she measured for me) they need to be not much more than 12" long. Yes, not a misprint, 12. Standard leg warmers? Acrylic and ~19", or so I found out when I started looking for a twelfth night gift for her.
I'm probably not going to make the deadline, I'm only halfway through the first one, and that's okay. And if they aren't her style (and definitely) not her color, they are just the right size for my niece. And if she outgrows them before the next time it's cold enough in LA for them to be used, she can use them as arm warmers or something. Those are a thing, right?
- Me: Leg warmers? Not leggings? Cuz you described leggings to me, not KNITTED wool tubes for your legs, which, you know, I could have made for you!
- Her: Oh yeah, huh? (Or my translating abilities paraphrase for you.)
This makes me giggle just a little as it was 80 degrees in LA, just a couple days ago, when I found this out. It's not like she was sitting there freezing at the moment. But she was trying to decide whether or not to keep the footless tights I hunted down for her all over Seattle, ones almost thick enough to be leggings that would fit her diminutive figure! (Yey for gift receipts!)
But seriously, were I a religious person, I would swear on a stack of bibles that it was footless tights that she painstakingly described to me (or so I thought). Including telling me that I used to buy them at UCLA when I was in high school (or so I heard). That was what cemented it into my head. They could only be footless tights, or those god awful white waffle-patterned thermal underwear bottoms. (It was an all girls school, warmth beat fashion any day on cold days, even in LA.) Because when I was in high school leg warmers had gone off the school uniform list. But she insists that what she had actually said was what that the girls used to go buy across the street at UCLA. The girls...she worked there for over 27 years. "Girls" could mean anyone between 1976 to 2003...(sigh.) I will, of course, give her the benefit of the doubt. Cuz hey, I get to knit for her!
I've hunted down a pattern and pulled out the only skein of Machine-Washable Cascade 220 wool in a color so not my mom's (dark purple) to test out this pattern. See, the issues my mom will have with regards to obtaining store bought leg warmers, of course, is that they aren't wool, and (she measured for me) they need to be not much more than 12" long. Yes, not a misprint, 12. Standard leg warmers? Acrylic and ~19", or so I found out when I started looking for a twelfth night gift for her.
I'm probably not going to make the deadline, I'm only halfway through the first one, and that's okay. And if they aren't her style (and definitely) not her color, they are just the right size for my niece. And if she outgrows them before the next time it's cold enough in LA for them to be used, she can use them as arm warmers or something. Those are a thing, right?
Friday, December 20, 2013
There was Wrapping Paper and Free-Form Pie...Why do I Feel Hung Over?
There is snow on my windowsill!
And the ugly tree in I can see through my window as I write this, the one they planted int eh "alley" of the building behind mine that makes NO SENSE because it gets maybe an hour of sunlight (during the summer!) a day, is beautiful!
And I want to crush in my own skull if it will make it stop hurting.
Okay, maybe just my nose and around my eyes.
I know I got a wee bit uncomfortable in Tahoe when it would start snowing, why yes, I am a human barometer, I know, but this is ridiculous. If I'm going to feel this sick from sinus pressure, I might have to start drinking again so that the hung over feeling at least has someplace to call home.
I want to go out and see snowflakes! They really are pretty in real life and when you don't have to shovel. Oh my, the shoveling, I don't miss that at ALL. Or see a miiiiillllion of them as the obstacle between you, and work. Every. Day. For a whole season. Snow on an off day in Seattle? Rock on! Let me see the cars slippy sliding and the pretty decorations nature had given us to hid the ick of Seattle City Living!
But first I need to let the meds kick in. Which sucks! I am a whiney complainer, I know. I'm embracing it.
Happy one day of snow, Seattle! I'd commemorate it with a picture but my head is splitting just looking at the dimmed down computer screen, I'd probably bust a vein going outside to the brightness of the almost white snow and overly reflective cloudy sky...so let's just pretend I did and use our imaginations! Yeeesss.
And the ugly tree in I can see through my window as I write this, the one they planted int eh "alley" of the building behind mine that makes NO SENSE because it gets maybe an hour of sunlight (during the summer!) a day, is beautiful!
And I want to crush in my own skull if it will make it stop hurting.
Okay, maybe just my nose and around my eyes.
I know I got a wee bit uncomfortable in Tahoe when it would start snowing, why yes, I am a human barometer, I know, but this is ridiculous. If I'm going to feel this sick from sinus pressure, I might have to start drinking again so that the hung over feeling at least has someplace to call home.
I want to go out and see snowflakes! They really are pretty in real life and when you don't have to shovel. Oh my, the shoveling, I don't miss that at ALL. Or see a miiiiillllion of them as the obstacle between you, and work. Every. Day. For a whole season. Snow on an off day in Seattle? Rock on! Let me see the cars slippy sliding and the pretty decorations nature had given us to hid the ick of Seattle City Living!
But first I need to let the meds kick in. Which sucks! I am a whiney complainer, I know. I'm embracing it.
Happy one day of snow, Seattle! I'd commemorate it with a picture but my head is splitting just looking at the dimmed down computer screen, I'd probably bust a vein going outside to the brightness of the almost white snow and overly reflective cloudy sky...so let's just pretend I did and use our imaginations! Yeeesss.
Wednesday, December 04, 2013
A 28 Degree Walk to Work, Of Course I'm Craving Pineapple...
My mom used to say I was a backwards kid. But for the wrong reason. She thought it completely bonkers that I ask for ice cream for dessert in winter.
Hello? I have ice cream for dessert no matter what the thermostat says.
But today, this morning, I walked to work in the coldest weather this year thus far...yes, even colder than the January oh-my-toes-and-fingertips cold. This is Seattle after all, not the Midwest. We don't have snow, just frost on the streets. Mild is as mild does and all that claptrap. But 28 degrees is still 28 degrees and just a wee bit painful and obviously wintery. And I craved pineapple so badly I stopped in at Whole Paycheck for some on my way to work.
No, not preggers. Just desperately missing tropical weather, I think. It's going to be 82 degrees in Hilo today. Yep. Just putting that out there. If we're lucky we'll see 37 today. That is just...so...yeah, not tropical.
Hello? I have ice cream for dessert no matter what the thermostat says.
But today, this morning, I walked to work in the coldest weather this year thus far...yes, even colder than the January oh-my-toes-and-fingertips cold. This is Seattle after all, not the Midwest. We don't have snow, just frost on the streets. Mild is as mild does and all that claptrap. But 28 degrees is still 28 degrees and just a wee bit painful and obviously wintery. And I craved pineapple so badly I stopped in at Whole Paycheck for some on my way to work.
No, not preggers. Just desperately missing tropical weather, I think. It's going to be 82 degrees in Hilo today. Yep. Just putting that out there. If we're lucky we'll see 37 today. That is just...so...yeah, not tropical.
Thursday, August 01, 2013
What I Did This Summer...
It's August 1st. I know, I know, the inevitable, "how did that happen"wants to be keyed in immediately as my fingers fly across the keyboard.
And fly they must. I drop in to make sure my BFF from elementary school knows I'm still alive (waving frantically) but time? I no have.
My work life is "full." I am being challenged daily. I love it. I'm less and less afraid they will realize they've hired the wrong person...but still. FULL. And my brain feels a little melty at the end of the day, often. Still.
My non-work life has been awesome.
I can't recall at this moment if there is more...these are the things that popped out in my 10 minute limit. Yes, timing myself again. Before the summer is out I'd like to explore a little more. We'll see. The trick here is NOT to get hurt. And that is hard for me, as well all know.
And fly they must. I drop in to make sure my BFF from elementary school knows I'm still alive (waving frantically) but time? I no have.
My work life is "full." I am being challenged daily. I love it. I'm less and less afraid they will realize they've hired the wrong person...but still. FULL. And my brain feels a little melty at the end of the day, often. Still.
My non-work life has been awesome.
- I've seen Dylan Moran, live!
- As well as Bill Maher! (And didn't freak out TOO badly with 2900 people surrounding me...too badly.)
- And been to a couple fancy car places to drool over fancy cars in search of something a friend is/was/has now purchased.
- I got to sit in a Ferrari 328's driver's seat. This may be the only time I'll do this. Even off, with keys no where near the ignition, it felt FAST. Maybe because the engine was still warm?
- I've had more than my share of fancy burgers and yummy fries (or so my jeans are telling me).
- As well as Fish 'n Chips in West Seattle...having traveled there in a sweet classic car ('65 Mustang that I'll miss dearly - not mine.)
- And I don't want to toot my own horn, but I will....I think I've figured out, based 99% on the link, a very good chocolate ice cream recipe. It has a lot to do with the actual chocolate, just FYI. Think Scharfenberger.
- I've knit some hats (no, no pictures) have ALMOST finished the cowl I need for winter (again, picture? HA!)
- Have been to Bainbridge for a mimosa-brunch and YARN SHOPPING...cuz I am hep like that. Any outing that involves a ferry ride is cool.
- I bought a couch!!! My first real piece of real furniture from a store (and not my landlady) since moving to Seattle! Okay...this one doesn't feel real yet, mostly because it still has a month or more to go before it is in my living room. But the order is there. Cardinal Red. Cuz, um, yeah.
I can't recall at this moment if there is more...these are the things that popped out in my 10 minute limit. Yes, timing myself again. Before the summer is out I'd like to explore a little more. We'll see. The trick here is NOT to get hurt. And that is hard for me, as well all know.
Thursday, July 11, 2013
The Smell of Baking Cookies...
They're sort of experimental. I needed something to ready me for my evening. Maybe, maaaaybe, I'll even update this post later with a final picture.
Until then, there is just the smell. You know, the melting chocolate smell. Not chips though. This is my second time using chocolate bars that somehow ended up mine...but not something I'd eat. Dark Chocolate with Orange? Not my thing. Milk Chocolate Hazelnut? Ehhh. I am picky I guess. Give me a just plain dark chocolate, you know 60-70% dark? Yeah, that's my vice of choice.
I looked up "chocolate bar cookies" with the naivete of someone whose idea of cookies are the round things that fit in my mouth and make me go yum. Silly rabbit, cookie bars...I knew of their existence, I have yet to dive in. Probably because cookies already come in serving sizes and though I will stand there and chop chocolate bars by hand instead of zipping them through the Cuisinart, I am kinda lazy.
Also, it's not part of my cookie making routine...if there is one. It's not exactly a positive thought here, but I will consider myself blessed beyond reckoning if I ever gather around me friends who know what my cookie baking actually means. I stress bake. But it's even more than that, it's as close to an identifiable OCD-style routine I have. If you've stalked me on this blog thus far, you know I'm rather borderline. Or maybe I'm just kidding myself and am really one that holds papers showing my citizenship in that world. Where was I? Right, the routine. In my more manic states, it's what talks me off the ledge, as it were.
Read, parse the recipe, measure, read again, measure again, chop, separate, read it one more time, beat together, it isn't hodgepodge stew, this is baking, chemistry required. Logic to realign my scattered head, magic to sustain my being.
The world will not end if they don't come out. And sometimes? I don't even have to get beyond the dough point. (Cookie dough freezes, people, oh yeah.) And once you have a basic chocolate chip cookie recipe down? It really is about how I can make chocolate bars and left over coconut...and possibly some powdered butterscotch "chips" that I was not going to use for ice cream again...come together and make someone happy. (Office mates? Happy Friday!)
No idea how these will taste....but the smell...yeah, I needed the smell of baking cookies in my apartment this evening.
Until then, there is just the smell. You know, the melting chocolate smell. Not chips though. This is my second time using chocolate bars that somehow ended up mine...but not something I'd eat. Dark Chocolate with Orange? Not my thing. Milk Chocolate Hazelnut? Ehhh. I am picky I guess. Give me a just plain dark chocolate, you know 60-70% dark? Yeah, that's my vice of choice.
I looked up "chocolate bar cookies" with the naivete of someone whose idea of cookies are the round things that fit in my mouth and make me go yum. Silly rabbit, cookie bars...I knew of their existence, I have yet to dive in. Probably because cookies already come in serving sizes and though I will stand there and chop chocolate bars by hand instead of zipping them through the Cuisinart, I am kinda lazy.
Also, it's not part of my cookie making routine...if there is one. It's not exactly a positive thought here, but I will consider myself blessed beyond reckoning if I ever gather around me friends who know what my cookie baking actually means. I stress bake. But it's even more than that, it's as close to an identifiable OCD-style routine I have. If you've stalked me on this blog thus far, you know I'm rather borderline. Or maybe I'm just kidding myself and am really one that holds papers showing my citizenship in that world. Where was I? Right, the routine. In my more manic states, it's what talks me off the ledge, as it were.
Read, parse the recipe, measure, read again, measure again, chop, separate, read it one more time, beat together, it isn't hodgepodge stew, this is baking, chemistry required. Logic to realign my scattered head, magic to sustain my being.
The world will not end if they don't come out. And sometimes? I don't even have to get beyond the dough point. (Cookie dough freezes, people, oh yeah.) And once you have a basic chocolate chip cookie recipe down? It really is about how I can make chocolate bars and left over coconut...and possibly some powdered butterscotch "chips" that I was not going to use for ice cream again...come together and make someone happy. (Office mates? Happy Friday!)
No idea how these will taste....but the smell...yeah, I needed the smell of baking cookies in my apartment this evening.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Santa Monica Boulevard
Not too long ago I was ear-wormed with Sheryl Crow's "All I Wanna Do" song as I was headed off to LA la land to visit my mami.
Due to lack of planning (who me?) and last minute flight sales (yey) I was able to book direct flight round trip tickets for almost nothing (seriously, I got to use my points for the first time in four years for a round trip ticket! SCORE!) Except...and this is a biggie. My flights were at the crack of dawn, both going and coming. Okay not the flights themselves, but the wake-up time for the flights. URGH.
Anywho...so sitting there at Gate 35 in the predawn hours of LA, I realized the extra bit of humor (whether or not intentional I have no idea, my 5AM google-fu brought up NOTHING) regarding the lyric: Until the sun comes up over Santa Monica Boulevard.
Ummmm, last I checked, Santa Monica Blvd runs westish towards the water then kinda disappears in the East around Echo Park. The sun? Does not come up over this street in the way my head pictures it...you know, like crossing across it...you know you're picturing something similar. Or is it just me? It could very well be. This was a morning involving a 3:45 AM wake up call. URGH.
I don't know how you all measure fun, but I did have it. I spent time with my mom and saw a few friends that I'd either not gotten a chance to see due to emergency room/doctor's visits last time, compression of time that just did not work my way, or some other big bad.
This time around the big bad was/were Jacaranda trees. Before last year, the last time I was in LA for an extended period of time in May (more than a weekend) I was 18 years old. Apparently since that time I've developed allergies to Jacaranda trees...or something similarly nature-like. They were trying to kill me. Maybe I shouldn't have said they smelled like pee when we walked passed Walt Disney's original house? Who knows. All I do know is that the sinus pressure, watery eyes, and ohmygod runny nose was enough to make me wuss on on my last two outings...which made me a little sad, but determined to see these folks in the fall. You know, when everything that tried to kill me is dying (buahaha! My revenge! Or something.)
Me on no sleep = kinda random blogger posts, sorry. In the same vein, Tom Bihn bags rock! Except they are not as water tight when you spill your Chai Tea Latte INTO them...cuz you know, you had the flap open so you could pull out your laptop to do veryimportanthings like, um, blog about suns and boulevards, ahem.
Due to lack of planning (who me?) and last minute flight sales (yey) I was able to book direct flight round trip tickets for almost nothing (seriously, I got to use my points for the first time in four years for a round trip ticket! SCORE!) Except...and this is a biggie. My flights were at the crack of dawn, both going and coming. Okay not the flights themselves, but the wake-up time for the flights. URGH.
Anywho...so sitting there at Gate 35 in the predawn hours of LA, I realized the extra bit of humor (whether or not intentional I have no idea, my 5AM google-fu brought up NOTHING) regarding the lyric: Until the sun comes up over Santa Monica Boulevard.
Ummmm, last I checked, Santa Monica Blvd runs westish towards the water then kinda disappears in the East around Echo Park. The sun? Does not come up over this street in the way my head pictures it...you know, like crossing across it...you know you're picturing something similar. Or is it just me? It could very well be. This was a morning involving a 3:45 AM wake up call. URGH.
I don't know how you all measure fun, but I did have it. I spent time with my mom and saw a few friends that I'd either not gotten a chance to see due to emergency room/doctor's visits last time, compression of time that just did not work my way, or some other big bad.
This time around the big bad was/were Jacaranda trees. Before last year, the last time I was in LA for an extended period of time in May (more than a weekend) I was 18 years old. Apparently since that time I've developed allergies to Jacaranda trees...or something similarly nature-like. They were trying to kill me. Maybe I shouldn't have said they smelled like pee when we walked passed Walt Disney's original house? Who knows. All I do know is that the sinus pressure, watery eyes, and ohmygod runny nose was enough to make me wuss on on my last two outings...which made me a little sad, but determined to see these folks in the fall. You know, when everything that tried to kill me is dying (buahaha! My revenge! Or something.)
Me on no sleep = kinda random blogger posts, sorry. In the same vein, Tom Bihn bags rock! Except they are not as water tight when you spill your Chai Tea Latte INTO them...cuz you know, you had the flap open so you could pull out your laptop to do veryimportanthings like, um, blog about suns and boulevards, ahem.
Monday, April 22, 2013
This Has All Happened Before...
When I was in college my relationship with coffee went sour that one night, after drinking a pot of it all by myself, that I was not only able to sleep soundly on my notes, but through my alarm and halfway into my Shakespeare Studies Final.
No really.
There is nothing, NOTHING like running to the doorway of the WAY ALREADY in-progress final, stopping short at the door to try to catch your breath, and seeing the arched eyebrow of your professor with the, "You had BETTER have a really good excuse, kid," look on her face. I mean seriously, it's been 19 years, and I have yet to replicate that feeling in its entirety. I won't lie, there have been moments that have come close, accelerated heartbeat to the point it might burst (I had to run up to Merrill from Cowell via Cardiac Hill for those UCSC stalkers, I mean readers), hilariously out of breath, with a million and one thoughts racing through my head (NEVER before had anything like this happened to me, ME! OMG I am going to fail my first class, EVER! What a schoolgirl!), and trying really really hard not to cry (amazingly enough? I must have been a much tougher person back then, cuz I didn't, not even after I was told that I could still attempt the exam, but my end time would be the same as everyone else's.) I might have experienced the individual items on their own (except now I cry), but not yet again all together.
Yeah.
Coffee betrayed my young trusting self and so I dumped it. Bitter elixir whose taste I actually like. A lot. I must, I mean, I happily make coffee flavored ice cream at the drop of a hat! I don't know what happened to my coffee maker, but very shortly thereafter it was replaced by my rival hot water heating um thingie and my morning ritual became a lovely cup of Earl Grey tea, hot. (You know I had to say it.) And an afternoon cuppa. So intense was my anger, determination, and will power (weeelll, and possibly the increase in cancer stick inhalation may have helped, a lot), that I gave it up without (too) much of an issue. It was possibly this success (more than the nagging of my then boyfriend) that also may have given me the same drive to start quitting the smoking habit I'd taken to (it took years. Do as I say and not as I did, as I quote Grandmaster Flash, "Just don't do it.")
And yeah, I've had a love/hate relationship with the stuff ever since. Given my druthers I choose tea, not coffee. Milky, lovely tea. Earl Grey (hot, hee hee), Darjeeling, Ginger Peach, Mango Ceylon...Tea I will sit and linger over. Coffee, and I'm thinking of the YEARS when I took it back, I treated rough, I'd pound it down like a shot. It was not enjoyed, but the item to get me out the door. Then, once settled in at work, I could have my lovely cup of fragrant tea. And when the guilt of drinking coffee with poisoned and sugary (but yummy) French Vanilla non-Dairy Creamer finally filled my old UCSC-hippie heart, it wasn't. It was a little more painful (no cancer sticks to make the process a little less harsh), but thankfully I discovered Chai Tea Lattes. Don't ask me why, but that just fit the bill nicely.
Something's changing again, though...I can blame the allergies, I can blame my inability to sleep through the night...(I'm thinking I need to try this sleep schedule, it can't hurt at this point as 4 hours a night is just not cutting it). I can maybe also blame my brain for not being able to stop and chill. Too many things rolling through it these days, 99% work related. New job, WAY NEW STRESSES, way new things to learn...and my one lovely cup of tea in the morning...just not working.
The other day I had the revelation that I feel like I've been dumped into a grad school program (with all the learning and constant brain melting I'm experiencing) that I actually never thought I'd sign up for, like, ever. In fact, that might have been the last time I worked around a four-hour sleep schedule...and it was work. If I wasn't teaching I was biking to class, or working on lesson plans, or correcting papers. Sleep happened sometime after 2 AM, and I was at school ready to teach at 7 AM. And yeah, there might have been coffee around then too, hanging out in the shadows, calling me over, promising me that this time it would be different...
Ugh, coffee, I wish I knew how to quit you. But at least this time I'm not hiding behind the ultra processed creamer or fancy pants mocha concoctions. That seems too much like dessert to me now. Milk, sugar, ground beans, and water. Mmmm, and now I must go have some...urgh.
Monday, April 08, 2013
How Do I Find More Music with BIG DRUMS as a Back Beat?
Sorry, is my 80s showing?
Oh, and hand clapping.
And - not required but how awesome would it be: a young child chorus a la Pat Benetar's "We Belong?" Oh come on, even Sigour Ros (or however its spelled) uses that gimmick and he's definitely "current" or so my facebook feeds would let me believe. For all I know everyone I am "friends" with is as stuck in the 70s/80s as I am. Which would why we are so friendly! Um, yeah.
But after reviewing requests for hours at a time all I can think is that big drumbeats that I can swing my legs to (yeah, I'm not in the most ergonomic of sitting positions in my new chair, but dudes! I've got so much clearance I can swing my feet when I get all antsy!!!) keep me from running away screaming.
Except I'd have to change shoes before I took off anywhere. I'm breaking in a new pair of what I can only describe as grown up versions of my Minnetonka Moccasin boots. But not Minnetonka because OMG they are so very narrow now that I gave up even trying to fit my duck feet into them. And not boots! Which means I'll be able to wear them all summer long! (Ahem, once summer gets here...) I spent way too much money on Clarks "Originals" as they have come up with a version that is just AWESOME and shaped EXACTLY LIKE MY FOOT! Yes, I did not pay full price, cuz um, yeah, I have baking pans I'd rather spend that money on. Which is my version of retail therapy, apparently.
And I did. Spend money on way too many springform pans. But it's all for the good, I think. There are two (2!) cheesecakes sitting in my fridge as I type this! Cuz why make one ginormous one when you can make two smaller versions? I might be getting subliminally influenced by those car insurance commercials, "More is better!" Which I wish was true about love handles...but we've covered this topic before. Just a few days ago, actually. Whatever, because baking really is my therapy, thank goodness I work in an office where people will eat what I make, because I also procured a "tube pan" for an apple cake.
I've had one piece. Okay, one piece yesterday, one piece today. It's not like I had ice cream for dinner....oh wait, never mind.
Anyhow, drum beats, hand-clapping, ethereal child chorus...I ask for so little, I know.
Oh, and hand clapping.
And - not required but how awesome would it be: a young child chorus a la Pat Benetar's "We Belong?" Oh come on, even Sigour Ros (or however its spelled) uses that gimmick and he's definitely "current" or so my facebook feeds would let me believe. For all I know everyone I am "friends" with is as stuck in the 70s/80s as I am. Which would why we are so friendly! Um, yeah.
But after reviewing requests for hours at a time all I can think is that big drumbeats that I can swing my legs to (yeah, I'm not in the most ergonomic of sitting positions in my new chair, but dudes! I've got so much clearance I can swing my feet when I get all antsy!!!) keep me from running away screaming.
Except I'd have to change shoes before I took off anywhere. I'm breaking in a new pair of what I can only describe as grown up versions of my Minnetonka Moccasin boots. But not Minnetonka because OMG they are so very narrow now that I gave up even trying to fit my duck feet into them. And not boots! Which means I'll be able to wear them all summer long! (Ahem, once summer gets here...) I spent way too much money on Clarks "Originals" as they have come up with a version that is just AWESOME and shaped EXACTLY LIKE MY FOOT! Yes, I did not pay full price, cuz um, yeah, I have baking pans I'd rather spend that money on. Which is my version of retail therapy, apparently.
And I did. Spend money on way too many springform pans. But it's all for the good, I think. There are two (2!) cheesecakes sitting in my fridge as I type this! Cuz why make one ginormous one when you can make two smaller versions? I might be getting subliminally influenced by those car insurance commercials, "More is better!" Which I wish was true about love handles...but we've covered this topic before. Just a few days ago, actually. Whatever, because baking really is my therapy, thank goodness I work in an office where people will eat what I make, because I also procured a "tube pan" for an apple cake.
I've had one piece. Okay, one piece yesterday, one piece today. It's not like I had ice cream for dinner....oh wait, never mind.
Anyhow, drum beats, hand-clapping, ethereal child chorus...I ask for so little, I know.
Tuesday, April 02, 2013
Can I Just Freeze My Mom in Carbonite?
Just for a little bit? I mean, Han was in it for like a year with no side effects, right?
It's a case of everything happening all at once again and I'm just trying to figure out how to isolate things so I can focus and deal and then focus and deal...and then focus, and then deal...ad nauseum...
Cuz seriously? I just clicked Cntrl+V HARDER to try to make a copy/paste dealy work faster! I mean, what's next? Tapping on the teevee to make the picture clearer? (Yeah, okay, that would necessitate my actually using the television in my place to watch something over the air instead of netflix/dvds, and that just sounds like something more to focus and deal with...and then my brain 'sploded.)
And just by the by? Titanium glasses frames are great! You can keep going in to the eye doctor to have them readjusted (ha ha, if time allows) after every single time you fall asleep wearing them because OMG they are so light you forget they are on your face! Until morning when you find them under your shoulder. Or embedded into your eyeballs seeing as you decided to sleep ON YOUR FACE and they've certainly left quite an impression! I know, sexsay! That plus my purple night guard? RAWR!
My left eye started twitching yesterday after my first official training in my new work capacity. It hasn't started driving me batty simply because I just can't let it. (See 'sploding brain above.) I am the little kid who has been thrown into the deep end of the swimming pool by their sadistic older sibling. Or maybe the over-tired adult learner of SCUBA who is flailing at her 10 min. threading water test...in shark infested waters...AND YET I am striving to be AAAaaaauuuummmm, calm, collected, not too crazy-giggly when they drop yet another item onto my lap (either work or life related.) Sorry, is the plastic perma-smile on my face starting to show cracking around the edges? Maybe near my overly-attached-girlfriend-eyes? (I promise, I'll cut back on the caffeine next week.)
Knitting is not helping. At least not anything I'm working on at the moment - a sock, actually, that's the only thing I have right now and I'm at the heel and really? Why can't heels be easier!!! (That crackling noise? Just giving my neck a little side stretch you know to unstick my jaw.) I've taken to baking cookies and/or making ice cream. And giving them away. I have succeeded in ditching the 15 lbs my Ralleigh VS Truck accident gave me and my hip just does not need the extra weight back, thankyouverymuch. No matter how much chocolate sugar cookies taste like there's hardly ANY sugar in them!!! Cuz really, the salad I've packed for lunch is plenty for me...yup. (I promise to stop lying to myself next month.)
Ah, much better. Thank yourant space blogger for letting me have a place to drop this off for now.
It's a case of everything happening all at once again and I'm just trying to figure out how to isolate things so I can focus and deal and then focus and deal...and then focus, and then deal...ad nauseum...
Cuz seriously? I just clicked Cntrl+V HARDER to try to make a copy/paste dealy work faster! I mean, what's next? Tapping on the teevee to make the picture clearer? (Yeah, okay, that would necessitate my actually using the television in my place to watch something over the air instead of netflix/dvds, and that just sounds like something more to focus and deal with...and then my brain 'sploded.)
And just by the by? Titanium glasses frames are great! You can keep going in to the eye doctor to have them readjusted (ha ha, if time allows) after every single time you fall asleep wearing them because OMG they are so light you forget they are on your face! Until morning when you find them under your shoulder. Or embedded into your eyeballs seeing as you decided to sleep ON YOUR FACE and they've certainly left quite an impression! I know, sexsay! That plus my purple night guard? RAWR!
My left eye started twitching yesterday after my first official training in my new work capacity. It hasn't started driving me batty simply because I just can't let it. (See 'sploding brain above.) I am the little kid who has been thrown into the deep end of the swimming pool by their sadistic older sibling. Or maybe the over-tired adult learner of SCUBA who is flailing at her 10 min. threading water test...in shark infested waters...AND YET I am striving to be AAAaaaauuuummmm, calm, collected, not too crazy-giggly when they drop yet another item onto my lap (either work or life related.) Sorry, is the plastic perma-smile on my face starting to show cracking around the edges? Maybe near my overly-attached-girlfriend-eyes? (I promise, I'll cut back on the caffeine next week.)
Knitting is not helping. At least not anything I'm working on at the moment - a sock, actually, that's the only thing I have right now and I'm at the heel and really? Why can't heels be easier!!! (That crackling noise? Just giving my neck a little side stretch you know to unstick my jaw.) I've taken to baking cookies and/or making ice cream. And giving them away. I have succeeded in ditching the 15 lbs my Ralleigh VS Truck accident gave me and my hip just does not need the extra weight back, thankyouverymuch. No matter how much chocolate sugar cookies taste like there's hardly ANY sugar in them!!! Cuz really, the salad I've packed for lunch is plenty for me...yup. (I promise to stop lying to myself next month.)
Ah, much better. Thank you
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Everything will Work Out Right*
*Actual lyrics from "Safety Dance," 'member that one hit wonder?
But before all that...things had to get much, much, MUCH worse.
Last week I came as close as I care to admit to losing my mom. When you sit there, listening her tell the story of the emergency room incident, knitting frantically and wondering if she realizes what she's saying, incredulous as she states, "And they were all speaking in English around me because they didn't think I could understand them, but I heard the young man, he seemed really far away, but I heard him say clearly, 'We're losing her!' before he swore!"
And it was the swearing she was concerned about.
So after Sr. Sister's funeral, my mom just didn't feel right. I'd later learn she wasn't feeling right for an ENTIRE WEEK. But that was after. She was short of breath, dizzy, and her legs wouldn't work all that well. It was her heart. One whole section just kinda stopped working. It is amazing how much blood the other half was able to pump around cuz the lady was STILL following her normal routine. All I can hope is to be that strong when I'm her age.
My SIL insisted she go to the doctor to get checked. While there they went through two blood pressure reading machines insisting they must both be broken because, um yeah, there was no measurable pressure...or heartbeat...well, it was there...30bps or something, and very weak.
So I got the first text when she was getting prepped for an emergency pacemaker operation. There isn't much you can do 1,140 miles away from "home." My brother said I could pray. I started looking for flights to LA instead. And writing emails requesting time off. And figuring out how to get to the airport...
I arrived in time to release her from the hospital. She was in so much pain her face just looked wrong. Not a stroke, not a heart attack...77 years is simply a long time for a heart to go non-stop, it seems. But dammit she was not ready to go. And that makes me glad. I'm not ready for her to go either. She's already said she's determined to look after my nieces four children (my niece is currently 10 and I will not let her make the same "married too young" mistake I made so there are decades to go here, at least).
Being home with her, helping her eat, comb her hair, get dressed? It was almost too much. And yet, not enough. I could not do enough. I baked banana bread. Made her macaroni and cheese, hot dogs, anything and everything she felt like having (yep, not exactly the best diet to follow, but you know what? That was not the point.) And just when I thought I couldn't take any more?
HR calls. I finally broke through the assistant ceiling and they're hiring me on in a very promoted position in a neighboring group at work. To quote "Into the Woods," I'm excited and scared. I start in a couple weeks and am wow, overwhelmed actually. Because when it rains, it pours? And I've hit my quote limit I think.
I'm back in Seattle now. I'm not calling daily, but am making sure she's okay in every way I can. She keeps getting stronger and feeling better and the pain is almost all gone and maybe I'll be able to start sleeping again? Because my desk is COVERED in paper that has to get processed because I'll be moving desks soon and yeah. My life is very full right now. I am absolutely not complaining, just pointing it out for posterity's sake...oh, and listening to bad 80's music so I can stay in a positive mindset. You just can't get too morose listening to Art of Noise (remember them?)
And...back to the game.
Monday, February 25, 2013
Without You...
I can't stop crying this morning. And it's a combination of me being silly and way too much going on.
Or maybe not so silly, but I do have to wonder how I'm going to react when my parents go or my godmother, or someone who is in my day to day life...
A nun I've known, pretty much all my life (I was three when we met) passed away yesterday. She was stern and and serious and she expected you do to exactly as she said, and as scared as I could be of her when I was little, and as frustrated and angry as she made me as a teenager, I sit here blubbering over her. I haven't seen her for more than a decade. But there was something about her always being there and now not, that is messing with my head. There was always something to read about her in my high school newsletter - yes, I still get them. And even more yes, I went to a high school that produces quarterly magazines.
And this realization is making me laugh. Because if it hadn't been for her, I don't think my mom would have gotten the nerve up to have me even apply. In so many peoples' eyes she was just "the help." But not in Sr.'s. And her children should have just as much a chance to make it in the world as anyones. And that also boosts my heart (to bursting a little... And I'm also sure the waterworks will follow in just a bit...they're just giving me a chance to breathe, you know, so I can maybe wail a little bit.)
Sr. was my mom's boss for 18 years. She was my principal. She was what an adult in power should be and act like. Those were some pretty big comfortable shoes to fill by subsequent leaders of the school. I couldn't tell you if they succeeded; when I left I left for good, as it were.
And yet, my one forever-memory of her is what she told my mom when I up-ended my life and got myself on a sailboat to Mexico: "How exciting." Which was not what my mom expected to hear at all. Sr. was proud (!) that I was having my adventures when I was young (in my twenties) and not waiting until later, because, well, what if there aren't any laters? As I sit here with a battered hip and a messed up posterior tibialis tendon, a slipped disk, and really tired shoulder...NONE of which the sailboat gave me thankyouverymuch, I have to agree. I don't think I could do the sailboat thing now, much less in my 50s or 60s as my fellow cruisers were. Not with my battle scars. (Or do they magically get better after you retire? That would be awesome.) And it was her, ah, blessing on the matter that made my mom not exactly /like/ what I was doing, but bring her much closer to being okay with having a crazy-pants daughter.
When I opted to move to Tahoe instead of LA, totally okay. Seattle? Sounds like a plan. I think in her head she thinks (and maybe I agree) that I'm still adventuring a little, because she never really got a chance to. I promise to settle down some day, really.
So thank you Sr. As mean and horrible as I thought you were (ah those teenaged years), I also loved and respected you so very much for everything you did for my mom, my dad, my brothers, and me. And though we never moved beyond the Sr.-is-not-a friend relationship (do as your told!) And I KNOW I never hugged you, I will miss you so very much.
And now I need to go cry a little more so I can put on a braver face at work...I have an interview I need to be in a lot better shape for than I am right now. Oh life, you are nothing if not challenging.
Or maybe not so silly, but I do have to wonder how I'm going to react when my parents go or my godmother, or someone who is in my day to day life...
A nun I've known, pretty much all my life (I was three when we met) passed away yesterday. She was stern and and serious and she expected you do to exactly as she said, and as scared as I could be of her when I was little, and as frustrated and angry as she made me as a teenager, I sit here blubbering over her. I haven't seen her for more than a decade. But there was something about her always being there and now not, that is messing with my head. There was always something to read about her in my high school newsletter - yes, I still get them. And even more yes, I went to a high school that produces quarterly magazines.
And this realization is making me laugh. Because if it hadn't been for her, I don't think my mom would have gotten the nerve up to have me even apply. In so many peoples' eyes she was just "the help." But not in Sr.'s. And her children should have just as much a chance to make it in the world as anyones. And that also boosts my heart (to bursting a little... And I'm also sure the waterworks will follow in just a bit...they're just giving me a chance to breathe, you know, so I can maybe wail a little bit.)
Sr. was my mom's boss for 18 years. She was my principal. She was what an adult in power should be and act like. Those were some pretty big comfortable shoes to fill by subsequent leaders of the school. I couldn't tell you if they succeeded; when I left I left for good, as it were.
And yet, my one forever-memory of her is what she told my mom when I up-ended my life and got myself on a sailboat to Mexico: "How exciting." Which was not what my mom expected to hear at all. Sr. was proud (!) that I was having my adventures when I was young (in my twenties) and not waiting until later, because, well, what if there aren't any laters? As I sit here with a battered hip and a messed up posterior tibialis tendon, a slipped disk, and really tired shoulder...NONE of which the sailboat gave me thankyouverymuch, I have to agree. I don't think I could do the sailboat thing now, much less in my 50s or 60s as my fellow cruisers were. Not with my battle scars. (Or do they magically get better after you retire? That would be awesome.) And it was her, ah, blessing on the matter that made my mom not exactly /like/ what I was doing, but bring her much closer to being okay with having a crazy-pants daughter.
When I opted to move to Tahoe instead of LA, totally okay. Seattle? Sounds like a plan. I think in her head she thinks (and maybe I agree) that I'm still adventuring a little, because she never really got a chance to. I promise to settle down some day, really.
So thank you Sr. As mean and horrible as I thought you were (ah those teenaged years), I also loved and respected you so very much for everything you did for my mom, my dad, my brothers, and me. And though we never moved beyond the Sr.-is-not-a friend relationship (do as your told!) And I KNOW I never hugged you, I will miss you so very much.
And now I need to go cry a little more so I can put on a braver face at work...I have an interview I need to be in a lot better shape for than I am right now. Oh life, you are nothing if not challenging.
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