This is a disheartening post to write, and even more disheartening to write at 2:27 in the morning when I am exhausted yet unable to sleep - but were I not exhausted yet unable to sleep at 2:27 in the morning, I likely wouldn't be reflecting on chronic pain.
Nine years and one month ago to the day (you remember things like this, believe me), I tripped, while jogging, on an extra-wide crack in a sidewalk in North Oakland. My body went uuuuup into the air and, instinctively, to avoid breaking the MP3 player I was carrying, I twisted to the side and came down not on my hands/wrists, but on my left hip. 115 pounds off the ground, then down on that hip with a splat.
The rest is history. Except it's not. B/c every day for the past 9 years and 1 month (that's 109 months for anyone doing the math) I have endured hip and/or back pain as a result of this fall.
Some days it's not so bad. I can go entire weeks without thinking much about it, not b/c I don't hurt but b/c after years and years a person learns to tolerate quite a bit.
But sometimes, like these days, it's tremendous pain; pain that keeps me from sleeping even though I am so far beyond tired I feel nauseated; pain that makes it difficult or impossible to work out, to ride in the car for long periods, to sit in the same position for more than 5 minutes at a time; pain that has me pacing the floors at 3:00 a.m., stretching 2, 3, 4 times a day to get a bit of relief; pain that has me waking Brad up in the wee hours so he can rub my hip again.
Yeah, it ain't fun. And it's only gotten worse with the pressure of a little human who's getting bigger day by day and weighing me down in the most off-kilter sort of way. Not to mention the only thing that offers relief when things are really bad is sleeping on my belly . . . obviously not at option here at 38 weeks and 2 days pregnant.
And b/c I did the medical whole circuit years ago - 3 orthopedists, a
rheumatologist, physical therapists, chiropractors, two UPMC sports
medicine specialists - I know that this pain isn't going away. Ever.
Misdiagnosis, failed diagnosis, an almost major surgery - the list of
what I've gone through with this hip just goes on and on.
A beloved former professor of mine died recently, a man who suffered from a painful illness for years and years. I remember him telling me, as a sophomore in college, what it was like: how the meds he needed for the pain dulled his ability to work, to be sharp, put him in a fog, but how the pain he felt without the meds made life just as awful.
It was a sh*t situation anyway you cut it, and I've never forgotten my conversation with this wonderful man and teacher outside of our class building on a sunny afternoon long ago. I was only, what, 19? and had no personal concept of the kind of pain that can plague a person for way too long, the kind that weighs not only on your body but on your mind. It wears you out, takes a big-time toll. Even when it's not 2:52 a.m.
Unfortunately, it would only be another year or so until my blissful ignorance went splat on the sidewalk. I'm sorry, but Bob Seger's all too appropriate here: wish I didn't know now what I didn't know then.
Showing posts with label everyday life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label everyday life. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Big Day Tomorrow: the Big 3-0
It's almost like the Huffington Post reprinted Glamour's 1997 list of "30 Things Every Woman Should Have and Should Know by the Time She's 30" (by Pamela Redmond Satran) today in honor of my turning thirty tomorrow . . . .
The whole list is awesome and on the money - and here are some faves.
Things you should have by the time you're 30:
7. The realization that you are actually going to have an old age - and some money set aside to help fund it.
9. A resume that is not even the slightest bit padded.
11. A set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black lace bra.
15. A solid start on a satisfying career, a satisfying relationship, and all those other facets of life that do get better [after 30].
Things you should know by the time you're 30:
10. That your childhood may not have been perfect, but it's over.
11. What you would and wouldn't do for money or love.
12. That nobody gets away with smoking, drinking, doing drugs, or not flossing for very long.
14. Not to apologize for something that isn't your fault.
Here's hoping for a heck of a birthday and a heck of a decade - and many more - to come!
The whole list is awesome and on the money - and here are some faves.
Things you should have by the time you're 30:
7. The realization that you are actually going to have an old age - and some money set aside to help fund it.
9. A resume that is not even the slightest bit padded.
11. A set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black lace bra.
15. A solid start on a satisfying career, a satisfying relationship, and all those other facets of life that do get better [after 30].
Things you should know by the time you're 30:
10. That your childhood may not have been perfect, but it's over.
11. What you would and wouldn't do for money or love.
12. That nobody gets away with smoking, drinking, doing drugs, or not flossing for very long.
14. Not to apologize for something that isn't your fault.
Here's hoping for a heck of a birthday and a heck of a decade - and many more - to come!
Sunday, March 4, 2012
7 Generations of Stink
Don't get me wrong, I think that the availability of natural, earth-friendly household products is wonderful, and I applaud companies that make it their mission to make such items. And, generally, I've been impressed with Seventh Generation products, such as their Disinfecting Bathroom Cleaner and Fresh Citrus Hand Wash. Once baby comes, Brad and I will switch to even more of these types of products which are, naturally, pricier than your average brands, but also safer for sensitive little people and their sensitive systems and skin.
The one product I cannot recommend, however - and which I will never buy again - is Seventh Generation Multi-Purpose Spray.
We bought this after finding out I was pregnant b/c although I don't use cleaning products much beyond the ocassional spray of Windex on a mirror or Fantastik on a spot of cleaned-up cat puke, we figured it was best to have something sans chemicals around.
Well, it reeks. Just plain reeks. It makes whatever you've cleaned smell so bad you're not sure you've actually cleaned anything. We tried to use it to get the old smell out of a breadbox we bought from Goodwill a few weeks ago and the stink of the spray was 10x worse - so bad that we ended up pitching the bread box. (Happily, I found a better - non-smelling one - just this past week.)
I wanted to love this spray, I really did. It had all the promise of Fantastik without the poison. But this cleaner is just nas-tay smellin'. Once we use this bottle up (it ain't cheap, after all), we'll be giving some other natural brand's general cleaner a try. Most likely Mrs. Meyer's All Purpose Cleaner in Lemon Verbena. The scent sounds yum-tastic (and this coming from someone who generally hates scented stuff) and Mrs. Meyer's products (like Seventh Generation's) are available at good ol' Target.
We bought this after finding out I was pregnant b/c although I don't use cleaning products much beyond the ocassional spray of Windex on a mirror or Fantastik on a spot of cleaned-up cat puke, we figured it was best to have something sans chemicals around.
Well, it reeks. Just plain reeks. It makes whatever you've cleaned smell so bad you're not sure you've actually cleaned anything. We tried to use it to get the old smell out of a breadbox we bought from Goodwill a few weeks ago and the stink of the spray was 10x worse - so bad that we ended up pitching the bread box. (Happily, I found a better - non-smelling one - just this past week.)
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Hitting the Wall
Well, it's official: with one and a half weeks of the 2nd trimester to go, I've reached the point where I can no longer carry on my day as I normally would were I not pregnant. I'm. just. so. freaking. tired.
The 2nd trimester (well, since about week 15) has been relatively good to me. The first trimester stomach issues disappeared; my headaches became very infrequent and more a result of a tight neck rather than hormones; and for someone who's only been able to sleep from 5-6 hours a night in 2.5 or 3 hours increments (which is torture) since week 6, I've had a decent amount of energy. Until this week.
After going about a normal day yesterday (chiropractor, schoolwork, the store, going walking, shower, etc.), I was pretty much exhausted by 6:30. At this point, however, Brad and I began measuring and cutting the first of the baseboards for the nursery. It took us an hour to do two boards (and they're still a little too long), and my patience had worn thinner than thin and every muscle in my body was yelling, "Too tired!"
That was it: all I could do was collapse on the couch till it was time for bed at 10:00.
Tonight, after a long day at school, I didn't even try to do any cleaning, crafting, base-boarding, whatever. I just sat my rear down on the couch.
I've tried to climb back on the horse with cardio this week - nothing too strenuous, just walking for 25 minutes - and maybe that's adding to the fatigue. (Although, isn't the big thing about exercise how much energy it supposedly gives you? I call bullsh*t!) But really, I think I've just gotten to that point where I need to slow down, where a long day at school is enough for one day, where I need to know when to take it easy.
So, I'm trying to take it at least easier, if not truly easy. I can't say I'm thrilled at the prospect of the next 14.5 weeks in the slow lane, but once there's a sweet (read: crying, pooping, hungry) baby in the house, life will jump into high gear right quick, so I guess I should just embrace it, eh?
The 2nd trimester (well, since about week 15) has been relatively good to me. The first trimester stomach issues disappeared; my headaches became very infrequent and more a result of a tight neck rather than hormones; and for someone who's only been able to sleep from 5-6 hours a night in 2.5 or 3 hours increments (which is torture) since week 6, I've had a decent amount of energy. Until this week.
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| I feel it, lady, I feel it |
That was it: all I could do was collapse on the couch till it was time for bed at 10:00.
Tonight, after a long day at school, I didn't even try to do any cleaning, crafting, base-boarding, whatever. I just sat my rear down on the couch.
I've tried to climb back on the horse with cardio this week - nothing too strenuous, just walking for 25 minutes - and maybe that's adding to the fatigue. (Although, isn't the big thing about exercise how much energy it supposedly gives you? I call bullsh*t!) But really, I think I've just gotten to that point where I need to slow down, where a long day at school is enough for one day, where I need to know when to take it easy.
So, I'm trying to take it at least easier, if not truly easy. I can't say I'm thrilled at the prospect of the next 14.5 weeks in the slow lane, but once there's a sweet (read: crying, pooping, hungry) baby in the house, life will jump into high gear right quick, so I guess I should just embrace it, eh?
Monday, January 30, 2012
Just call me the friendly local realtor
Yeah, I'm doing what it takes to get it done in the good ol' neighborhood.
Today, when I went outside to go walking (my first workout in, oh, 4 months? That's a whole other story), I noticed a minivan in the driveway next door and a man and woman in the front yard, and I immediately thought, "Opportunity!"
You see, this 3-br, 1.5 bath house has been on the market since April, and the price has dropped more than $25,000 in this time. Today's perusers were only the fourth group of people I've seen looking at this place in 9 months - not such a great record. From what neighbors have said and what Brad and I were able to tell online, the house has decent bones but the kitchen hasn't been updated in 40+ years, there's paneling on some of the walls (eeks!), and the whole place looks out-freaking-dated. Needless to say, this-not-selling situation is going to kill nearby property values, including ours, and as Brad and I will be looking to sell likely within the next 5 years, this simply won't do.
So I smiled and said hello, and when the man - in his fifties, same as the woman - looked to be talking to me, I removed my earphones and happily answered their questions. Never mind my green Nike shorts and wintry pink hat (I prefer the term raspberry as a descriptor).
"Is this a good neighborhood?" he wanted to know. Yes, certainly, we've lived here two and a half years and love it.
"Are there lots of kids?" Not knowing whether kids were a plus or a minus, I was careful: "Oh, yes - but most of them are on the lower streets."
"We're looking for our daughter, she has three." Indeed! I'm expecting a little boy, and on the other side of us they've got a one-and-a-half year old little boy and a little girl who will be five in May.
"Oh! Ava's four." (And apparently their daughter's youngest, a little boy, is 5 months old.) "So it's a nice area?" Yes, yes, it is. Many of the people in the neighborhood have lived here for years - that house, he's been here since the 70s; they've been there forever, there across the street; down there, she grew up next door where her mother still lives, then she bought that house and raised her kids there.
"Great! This is what we needed to know. Thanks!" I smiled, I made a joke here and there, I talked this plan of houses up. And now my fingers are crossed so tightly that they're losing circulation. Or wait, that might be all the water I've recently begun retaining . . . .
Anyway, here's what I want to know: if this couple's daughter buys the place, who do I see about my commission?
Today, when I went outside to go walking (my first workout in, oh, 4 months? That's a whole other story), I noticed a minivan in the driveway next door and a man and woman in the front yard, and I immediately thought, "Opportunity!"
So I smiled and said hello, and when the man - in his fifties, same as the woman - looked to be talking to me, I removed my earphones and happily answered their questions. Never mind my green Nike shorts and wintry pink hat (I prefer the term raspberry as a descriptor).
"Is this a good neighborhood?" he wanted to know. Yes, certainly, we've lived here two and a half years and love it.
"Are there lots of kids?" Not knowing whether kids were a plus or a minus, I was careful: "Oh, yes - but most of them are on the lower streets."
"We're looking for our daughter, she has three." Indeed! I'm expecting a little boy, and on the other side of us they've got a one-and-a-half year old little boy and a little girl who will be five in May.
"Oh! Ava's four." (And apparently their daughter's youngest, a little boy, is 5 months old.) "So it's a nice area?" Yes, yes, it is. Many of the people in the neighborhood have lived here for years - that house, he's been here since the 70s; they've been there forever, there across the street; down there, she grew up next door where her mother still lives, then she bought that house and raised her kids there.
Anyway, here's what I want to know: if this couple's daughter buys the place, who do I see about my commission?
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
A Little Bit of Sweetness
Last night after work, Brad made me one of my favorites, pico de gallo. (This stuff is delish! And easy to make.) He'd worked all day, spent the better part of 3 hours commuting (as usual), but without complaint he chopped up 8 tomatoes, an onion, and a jalapeno while dinner was heating in the oven. He could've crashed on the couch and waited out the kitchen timer, but he didn't.
Of course I thanked him yesterday, but while eating more moments ago, I texted him to say thanks again.
His response? "You're welcome. I like making nice things for you."
Couldn't you just squeeze him?
We're all about gratitude in this house and we have been for years. I say thank-you when he goes to the grocery store, and he says it when I go. When he cooks dinner, I thank him. When I fold the laundry, he thanks me. These aren't "necessary" thank-yous - the stuff has to get done sooner or later, by one of us, right? - but we've been in the habit for a long, long time of showing our appreciation for each other, and I have to say, it really means a lot to me and I'm sure to him as well.
Reading February's Better Homes & Gardens this weekend, I came upon a reader answer section; the question was about a trait of your spouse's that you loved. While I identified with a lot of the things readers said, I found myself totally agreeing when I read one woman's response about how her husband thanks her for the things she does and how this makes her happy to do nice things for him.
I couldn't agree more. Because I know he will appreciate it, I am frequently moved to take on a task that Brad would otherwise have to do - just to make his life a little easier, his day a little less stressful. And he does the same for me.
I feel lucky to have a husband who appreciates the effort I make and takes the time to tell me he does. And I feel lucky to have a husband who does the sorts of things, big and small, that move me to say thanks.
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| This + Tostitos Scoops = Heaven |
His response? "You're welcome. I like making nice things for you."
Couldn't you just squeeze him?
We're all about gratitude in this house and we have been for years. I say thank-you when he goes to the grocery store, and he says it when I go. When he cooks dinner, I thank him. When I fold the laundry, he thanks me. These aren't "necessary" thank-yous - the stuff has to get done sooner or later, by one of us, right? - but we've been in the habit for a long, long time of showing our appreciation for each other, and I have to say, it really means a lot to me and I'm sure to him as well.
Reading February's Better Homes & Gardens this weekend, I came upon a reader answer section; the question was about a trait of your spouse's that you loved. While I identified with a lot of the things readers said, I found myself totally agreeing when I read one woman's response about how her husband thanks her for the things she does and how this makes her happy to do nice things for him.
I couldn't agree more. Because I know he will appreciate it, I am frequently moved to take on a task that Brad would otherwise have to do - just to make his life a little easier, his day a little less stressful. And he does the same for me.
I feel lucky to have a husband who appreciates the effort I make and takes the time to tell me he does. And I feel lucky to have a husband who does the sorts of things, big and small, that move me to say thanks.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
An Organizational Disaster
If my house suffers from one illness, it's Atrocious Unmatched Flooring Disease, which can be cured only with time, effort, and money. But if my house suffers from two illnesses (and believe me, there are more than 2), the second is Clutter-itis.
Clutter-itis, as you may well know, is a result of Too-Much-Stuff-itis and the People-Who-Don't-Pick-Up-After-Themselves bug, an unfortunate combination that leads to messy spaces crowded with paper, clothing, boxes, and a host of other random items that lead me to say things like, "Why do we even own this?" and "I don't understand how I cleaned this living room two days ago and it looks like a war zone already!"
With the new addition on the way, Brad and I are in need of some serious O-R-G-A-N-I-Z-A-T-I-O-N. If the two of us have managed to fill up (make a mess of?) four bedrooms, a two-car garage, two sheds (gulp that we even own sheds), and quite a number of closets, imagine what the situation will look like in a few months when we're +1. And you know those babies bring tons of stuff along with them (like, where are we even gonna put the stroller, let alone all those toys?!).
And so Brad and I have resolved to get organized, de-clutter, and stay on top of (or at least next to) the general mess that builds in the course of a day/week.
For the past few weeks we've been working on this in our more or less haphazard way: over the course of several days, I shredded about 4 months-worth of paper; we cleaned out the sheds and garage some (only some, believe me) when it was 50+ degrees out a few Sundays ago; I transformed a wasted bedroom closet once filled with "crap" into a very useful abode for my out-of-season-clothes and about 35 pairs of shoes.
Not bad, but we've got a long way to go before this house is anywhere near as together as it needs to be. There's still a frightening amount of junk lurking in those sheds, an absurd amount of stuff-that-needs-shredded in bags/boxes in the garage from years ago, and the kitchen cabinet situation is anything but user-friendly. And that's just for starters. Soon enough, though, I hope to have a nursery closet organization project to show . . . it's already underway as of yesterday. Then it's onto that dang kitchen!
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| Not my kitchen, but some days, it might as well be . . . . |
With the new addition on the way, Brad and I are in need of some serious O-R-G-A-N-I-Z-A-T-I-O-N. If the two of us have managed to fill up (make a mess of?) four bedrooms, a two-car garage, two sheds (gulp that we even own sheds), and quite a number of closets, imagine what the situation will look like in a few months when we're +1. And you know those babies bring tons of stuff along with them (like, where are we even gonna put the stroller, let alone all those toys?!).
And so Brad and I have resolved to get organized, de-clutter, and stay on top of (or at least next to) the general mess that builds in the course of a day/week.
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| Okay, it was bad, but not this bad |
Not bad, but we've got a long way to go before this house is anywhere near as together as it needs to be. There's still a frightening amount of junk lurking in those sheds, an absurd amount of stuff-that-needs-shredded in bags/boxes in the garage from years ago, and the kitchen cabinet situation is anything but user-friendly. And that's just for starters. Soon enough, though, I hope to have a nursery closet organization project to show . . . it's already underway as of yesterday. Then it's onto that dang kitchen!
Monday, January 16, 2012
Kitties in costume
Don't they look delectably cute?!
Yep, we really did this last week - and it's not the first time we've dressed our cats up in absurd cat outfits and laughed our butts off. They, on the other hand, don't find it so funny. That's why it lasts all of about 3 minutes. (Fuzzy had wiggled out of his wintry hat before we could nap a picture.) Still, there's just something about a sweet furry thing in a blowfish/crab/reindeer/giraffe/bonnet/neck-tie get-up that gets us every time. I mean, aren't these beasts adorable?! And, besides, the outfits only cost like $4 a piece - money well spent :).
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| P.J. in a bonnet |
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| Cookie with antlers and bells |
Yep, we really did this last week - and it's not the first time we've dressed our cats up in absurd cat outfits and laughed our butts off. They, on the other hand, don't find it so funny. That's why it lasts all of about 3 minutes. (Fuzzy had wiggled out of his wintry hat before we could nap a picture.) Still, there's just something about a sweet furry thing in a blowfish/crab/reindeer/giraffe/bonnet/neck-tie get-up that gets us every time. I mean, aren't these beasts adorable?! And, besides, the outfits only cost like $4 a piece - money well spent :).
Thursday, January 5, 2012
$480 of warmth and joy
Whoever said money couldn't buy happiness never came home (after 9 days!) to a house without hot water at the outset of January in Pittsburgh, nor did he (yes, I assume it was a he) go 3 additional days without said hot water. I am also guessing he never heated water on the stove to wash his hair over the kitchen sink as Brad did on Monday or in the microwave as I did every time I needed to wash my face.
Yes, the money-can't-buy-happiness statement is folly: last night, $480 dollars bought me the most lovely shower of recent memory.
Oh, and a new gas hot water heater and installation of that water heater by Amanda's brother (who's a plumber).
Can I think of other, happier ways to spend $500? (That is purely a rhetorical question.) But, alas, if you must have it, you must have it, and if you must pay for it, you must pay for it - might as well get the joy out of it as well.
Yes, the money-can't-buy-happiness statement is folly: last night, $480 dollars bought me the most lovely shower of recent memory.
Oh, and a new gas hot water heater and installation of that water heater by Amanda's brother (who's a plumber).
Can I think of other, happier ways to spend $500? (That is purely a rhetorical question.) But, alas, if you must have it, you must have it, and if you must pay for it, you must pay for it - might as well get the joy out of it as well.
Monday, January 2, 2012
Merry Christmas to Our House
Like the big kids that we are, Brad and I made quite a few home-related Christmas present requests. Sadly, we didn't get the paint sprayer I was hoping for (a total necessity when it comes time to redo our kitchen cabinets . . . which will happen . . . eventually), but we made out like bandits otherwise. Errr, I mean, the house made out like a bandit.
Tokeep make the floor clean and spiffy, we got these puppies:
For tasty morning wake-ups (I'm hoping to cut back on that nasty - read: pricey - Starbucks habit ever so slightly), there's the Keurig Elite Brewing System:
To help us stave off those wintry temps while hopefully breaking the bank a little less than usual, we'll be replacing our old thermostat with this programmable guy:
And, to aid Brad's early-morning, pre-work snow removal efforts (and all other snow-removal as well), I got him a Toro electric shovel:
So, even though we are without hot water - oh yes, our barely-out-of-warranty water heater is leaking gas at perhaps the worst possible time (holidays, cold as heck out, start of a new semester) - our home is all set to get a-pamperin'. Now, we've just got to fork over several hundred dollars (ain't no thang, right? Bah!) to get a new water heater installed and then we can enjoy our new home goods and wash our hair/bodies/hands without freezing.
To
For tasty morning wake-ups (I'm hoping to cut back on that nasty - read: pricey - Starbucks habit ever so slightly), there's the Keurig Elite Brewing System:
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| Ain't it sophisticated?! |
And, to aid Brad's early-morning, pre-work snow removal efforts (and all other snow-removal as well), I got him a Toro electric shovel:
So, even though we are without hot water - oh yes, our barely-out-of-warranty water heater is leaking gas at perhaps the worst possible time (holidays, cold as heck out, start of a new semester) - our home is all set to get a-pamperin'. Now, we've just got to fork over several hundred dollars (ain't no thang, right? Bah!) to get a new water heater installed and then we can enjoy our new home goods and wash our hair/bodies/hands without freezing.
And then, out of nowhere, Brad says,
"What's that .1% of germs that nothing can kill?"
(You know, like how antibacterial soap and hand sanitizer kill 99.9% of germs.)
Hmmmm, I really don't know. And, now that I'm thinking about it, I'd rather not.
(You know, like how antibacterial soap and hand sanitizer kill 99.9% of germs.)
Hmmmm, I really don't know. And, now that I'm thinking about it, I'd rather not.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Monkey. Off. Back. Phew
This was a wonderful semester in one obvious respect: Brad and I found out we're having a baby. Which is just delightful. But otherwise, it's pretty much been a crap show.
Earlier in the semester, my mom was in the hospital for 5 days with (they finally figured out) a wacky kind of shingles called Ramsey-Hunt shingles. It's awful and rare and has no outward shingles signs and is therefore crazy hard to diagnose, and I've never seen her so miserable in my life.
Then, in late November, my dad was in the hospital b/c of issues with his number of red blood cells b/c of the leukemia he's had for over a decade and a half.
Top that off with my two experiences with spotting after learning I was pregnant - the first one at 7 weeks, the second at 14.5 weeks - and the hospital is quickly becoming not my favorite place. (I will say, though, that I was relieved to go and have the ultrasounds that showed everything was fine and there was no apparent reason for the spotting.)
I also spent 5 weeks with morning sickness that felt like a stomach virus, then 4 weeks with some of the worst headaches of my life. There were nights I was in bed at 8:30 p.m. b/c I couldn't bear it. (And, of course, pregnancy-approved Tylenol doesn't do jack sh*t.)
Then my parents' long-time neighbor (who I lived next door to for more than 15 years and with whose kids I grew up) died after being in the hospital for almost 4 months.
Add to this perhaps the most apathetic class of freshman composition I've ever taught (they weren't even bad - they just couldn't have cared less) and 15 weeks worth of a horrible medieval literature course that made me feel like I couldn't sit in class for one more second, and what you've got is a whopper of a craptastic time.
And so, I pressed the "submit" button on my grades - and voila! it's. officially. done. thank. goodness.
Now break is upon me and then a busy, busy semester and then - baby! So for now I'm going to relish a bit of relaxation, get my house organized, buy some presents, open some presents, hang out with my family, play board games with Brad, listen to Jim Brickman's Christmas cd, enjoy the tree, get prepared for next semester, read a few magazines, maybe rip off some wallpaper, and, with any luck, find out if our little baby is a boy or a girl.
And then the grind will start up again in January - though the monkey can kindly keep his distance.
Friday, December 9, 2011
This is how you know you're out of touch
Monday, December 5, 2011
Not Just for Kids: a Theory of Flavor Selection
Apparently I am five years old b/c my husband dumped my bag of Starbursts (yum yum) into a Rubbermaid container to make it easier for me "to pick my flavors." While it makes me feel not a little bit juvenile, I have to say, it's an ingenious idea. My prior method - of peering into the too-small hole I ripped in the corner of the bag and digging my too-big hand in to grab the ones I want - wasn't the most feasible, and three cheers to Brad for his innovation.
Anyway, this color picking points to a process to which I have decided to adhere with some fervor from here on out, after trying it out recently and feeling quite satisfied.
You see, like many folks, I prefer to red Starbursts to the other flavors, and I really don't care for the yellow. Whenever I eat a delicious red one and stumble upon a yellow or even an orange one next, it takes my taste experience from fab to flub.
So I have resolved to eat all of the red ones first. While this might sound, again, like the plan of a five-year-old, hear me out, b/c there is, as always, method to my madness.
Once all of the reds are gone, I then move onto the pink. Pink is my second favorite flavor (yeah, it's a flavor, okay?) and, as the best option remaining, I'm quite happy to have pink Starbursts in my pantry. Then when all the pinks are gone - yep, you guessed it, I'm onto the oranges, and compared with those yellow ones, the orange is pretty delish.
At the end of this several-day-long process, I'm left with those yucky yellows, which tend to sit there for a few weeks. But, eventually, when packing my lunch/dinner for a long day at school, I look in the cabinet and see those yellow ones and think, "Well, those won't be looking too bad tonight at about 8:00 in class," and I toss them in. And, sure enough, come 8:00 on a Thursday night, I'm happy to have those sweet yellow squares at the bottom of my bag.
And so it is that you can best enjoy your bursts of flavor - without ultimately wasting a one of 'em.
Anyway, this color picking points to a process to which I have decided to adhere with some fervor from here on out, after trying it out recently and feeling quite satisfied.
So I have resolved to eat all of the red ones first. While this might sound, again, like the plan of a five-year-old, hear me out, b/c there is, as always, method to my madness.
Once all of the reds are gone, I then move onto the pink. Pink is my second favorite flavor (yeah, it's a flavor, okay?) and, as the best option remaining, I'm quite happy to have pink Starbursts in my pantry. Then when all the pinks are gone - yep, you guessed it, I'm onto the oranges, and compared with those yellow ones, the orange is pretty delish.
 |
| Those do not look appetizing |
And so it is that you can best enjoy your bursts of flavor - without ultimately wasting a one of 'em.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
He really said this
Brad gets home from grocery shopping a little bit ago and begins putting things away in a rush of lunacy. I sort of just sit there and watch and chat with him. At the tail-end of the effort, it occurs to me that perhaps I should lend a hand. But now there's not really anything left to do. Unprompted, I announce,
Me: "I loaded the dishwasher and cleaned up the kitchen while you were gone. I do my part."
Him: "I know you do."
Me: "Baby doesn't do his/her part." (Yeah, I just said that - real mature, I know.)
Him: "Oh, he or she will have plenty of chores when they're big. [Pause.] I'm already looking forward to it."
Me: [Laughing.] "Are you serious?"
Him: "Is that weird?"
No no, completely normal. What expectant parent doesn't think, "Ohhhhh, how great: in a bunch of years my kid'll be doing chores which means I'll have to do less!"?
Me: "I loaded the dishwasher and cleaned up the kitchen while you were gone. I do my part."
Him: "I know you do."
Me: "Baby doesn't do his/her part." (Yeah, I just said that - real mature, I know.)
Him: "Oh, he or she will have plenty of chores when they're big. [Pause.] I'm already looking forward to it."
Me: [Laughing.] "Are you serious?"
Him: "Is that weird?"
No no, completely normal. What expectant parent doesn't think, "Ohhhhh, how great: in a bunch of years my kid'll be doing chores which means I'll have to do less!"?
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
To Plant a Garden
Home sick with a sore throat and cold, sneering at the ugly weather (there's a flood watch for tonight, for crying out loud!), and thinking about greener, sunnier days to come. And gardens.
Flowers and fruits and veggies. Green and yellow peppers, violets, lillies, daisies, watermelon, tomatoes, and more and more and more.
I'd like to plant a garden (not right this second, obviously), something I never imagined myself saying, but I actually have no idea how to go about doing so. Of course I can look online and find 300 different ways, but it's curious to me that I've made it this far in life, almost three decades, and I don't know where to begin.
This isn't a metaphorical garden I'm talking about. I'm talking real garden: dirty hands and knees, bugs (ick), the smell of flora and produce. I'm talking questions like, Do we have a proper place? The right kind of soil? When is the optimal time? Can you grow XYZ in this climate?
I guess I do know where to start: by recognizing my total lack of knowledge and asking questions. But it still seems odd that something so, well, natural, something I read about and see all around should be such a mystery to me.
It seems like such a complicated task - to plant things, shield them from the weather and insects, make them grow, harvest and enjoy them - and yet so completely simple. There are probably many things like that: simple, ordinary things that boggle the mind (or at least my mind).
I'd like to plant and tend a garden, see (literally) the fruits of my labor, feel pride when little seeds turn into something much more, feel a bit of peace being in nature. Maybe this spring I'll find a little patch of earth in the backyard and try my hand at making some good things grow. It can't go any worste than the potted tomato/cucumber/pepper failure of this past summer . . . .
Flowers and fruits and veggies. Green and yellow peppers, violets, lillies, daisies, watermelon, tomatoes, and more and more and more.
I'd like to plant a garden (not right this second, obviously), something I never imagined myself saying, but I actually have no idea how to go about doing so. Of course I can look online and find 300 different ways, but it's curious to me that I've made it this far in life, almost three decades, and I don't know where to begin.
This isn't a metaphorical garden I'm talking about. I'm talking real garden: dirty hands and knees, bugs (ick), the smell of flora and produce. I'm talking questions like, Do we have a proper place? The right kind of soil? When is the optimal time? Can you grow XYZ in this climate?
I guess I do know where to start: by recognizing my total lack of knowledge and asking questions. But it still seems odd that something so, well, natural, something I read about and see all around should be such a mystery to me.
I'd like to plant and tend a garden, see (literally) the fruits of my labor, feel pride when little seeds turn into something much more, feel a bit of peace being in nature. Maybe this spring I'll find a little patch of earth in the backyard and try my hand at making some good things grow. It can't go any worste than the potted tomato/cucumber/pepper failure of this past summer . . . .
Saturday, October 29, 2011
It's snowing. On October 29th. Um?
This seems a bit early. And a bit extreme. A little early morning frost? Okay. I can live with that. But this? We just spent three hours working in the yard last Sunday, and now I can't even see the yard . . . .
Sunday, October 23, 2011
It's coming down
I'm talking about the wallpaper. The hideous, hideous wallpaper in the upstairs hall and along the stairs.
But there's more to this:
Brad and I are the black sheep of, well, not exactly the neighborhood (that title goes to a lot of other people before it goes to us - like the family with the giant camper parked in the driveway in front of their house 6 months out of the year), but we are definitely the black sheep of the 3 or 4 houses on either side and across the street.
Meaning: Brad hasn't cut the grass (or dealt with the accummulated leaves) in three weeks; we haven't trimmed a shrub since, um, May; the weeds have been growing unfettered since early August; etc. etc. etc. So, we're slackers. I don't deny it. But it's not that bad and our next door neighbors (who we love) aren't too many steps behind us.
One of our neighbors, Dale, however, has an uncanny knack for repeatedly asking if Brad's going to cut the grass "today." And he asks this almost every time we see him. To be fair, he's a wonderful, helpful neighbor, and he and his dad are very generous with us, but when I'm sprinting into my house from the car to avoid him asking me for the fourth time in a week if Brad's going to cut the grass today, it's a problem.
And then yesterday happens. He'd already accosted me on my way in from the chiropractor around 11:30. Then, circa 2:00, the doorbell rings. I answer it. And he says, "Hi, I just wanted to see if you wanted me to help Brad with the leaves." My head nearly exploded. I nicely said, "No, he's going to take care of it tomorrow. Thanks though," and that was that.
Except then I shut the door and started ripping off the wall paper with my fingernails (the ugly crap's got to go!) to expel my frustration. Brad was very apologetic that he hadn't done the grass sooner which made this whole situation possible, but my irritation is not at him; neighbors need to mind their own damn business. I don't go across the street and say, "I find your siding to be rather an ugly color. Are you changing that today?" do I?
Anyway, it's obvious I'm irked - especially since today was already designated "Get the Yard Looking Presentable and Ready for Winter Day" - and now I've started this wallpaper project that's going to take forever to finish. But, hey, maybe when the walls are bare, the horrible green and pink is gone, and we're about to start painting a lovely color, I can go over to Dale and say, Thanks.
But there's more to this:
Brad and I are the black sheep of, well, not exactly the neighborhood (that title goes to a lot of other people before it goes to us - like the family with the giant camper parked in the driveway in front of their house 6 months out of the year), but we are definitely the black sheep of the 3 or 4 houses on either side and across the street.
Meaning: Brad hasn't cut the grass (or dealt with the accummulated leaves) in three weeks; we haven't trimmed a shrub since, um, May; the weeds have been growing unfettered since early August; etc. etc. etc. So, we're slackers. I don't deny it. But it's not that bad and our next door neighbors (who we love) aren't too many steps behind us.
One of our neighbors, Dale, however, has an uncanny knack for repeatedly asking if Brad's going to cut the grass "today." And he asks this almost every time we see him. To be fair, he's a wonderful, helpful neighbor, and he and his dad are very generous with us, but when I'm sprinting into my house from the car to avoid him asking me for the fourth time in a week if Brad's going to cut the grass today, it's a problem.
And then yesterday happens. He'd already accosted me on my way in from the chiropractor around 11:30. Then, circa 2:00, the doorbell rings. I answer it. And he says, "Hi, I just wanted to see if you wanted me to help Brad with the leaves." My head nearly exploded. I nicely said, "No, he's going to take care of it tomorrow. Thanks though," and that was that.
Except then I shut the door and started ripping off the wall paper with my fingernails (the ugly crap's got to go!) to expel my frustration. Brad was very apologetic that he hadn't done the grass sooner which made this whole situation possible, but my irritation is not at him; neighbors need to mind their own damn business. I don't go across the street and say, "I find your siding to be rather an ugly color. Are you changing that today?" do I?
Anyway, it's obvious I'm irked - especially since today was already designated "Get the Yard Looking Presentable and Ready for Winter Day" - and now I've started this wallpaper project that's going to take forever to finish. But, hey, maybe when the walls are bare, the horrible green and pink is gone, and we're about to start painting a lovely color, I can go over to Dale and say, Thanks.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Oh, look! It's new!
My blog look, that is. No, it's not super fancy-shmancy, and I haven't even changed my picture (how boring I am!), but it's fall and this is a fall-ish look, so it's fun and seasonally appropriate, if I do say so myself.
I mean, there's orange, and other than brown/tan/caramel, I don't know what's more fall than the color orange. You got your orange-y leaves on the ground. You got your obviously orange pumpkins doing their thing. You got your sort-of-orangish-if-you-squint-your-eyes cider. (Speaking of, I just had some delicious cider from Trader Joe's at school yesterday, and boy does it scream, "Fall's here!" Which is interesting if you don't usually think of beverages as talking, let alone screaming.)
And I'm sure there are other orange things that just aren't coming to mind. Hardy mums? Candy corn?
Anyway, enjoy fall while it lasts. It's my favorite season, and maybe yours, too, but I feel like it keeps getting shorter and shorter over the years. Like, we only have truly fall weather (45-65 degrees, some wind, chilly but not miserable) for a month and a half at most. Then it's into freezing town, at least for us Pixburghers . . . So, I'm eating it up while it's here!
I mean, there's orange, and other than brown/tan/caramel, I don't know what's more fall than the color orange. You got your orange-y leaves on the ground. You got your obviously orange pumpkins doing their thing. You got your sort-of-orangish-if-you-squint-your-eyes cider. (Speaking of, I just had some delicious cider from Trader Joe's at school yesterday, and boy does it scream, "Fall's here!" Which is interesting if you don't usually think of beverages as talking, let alone screaming.)
And I'm sure there are other orange things that just aren't coming to mind. Hardy mums? Candy corn?
Anyway, enjoy fall while it lasts. It's my favorite season, and maybe yours, too, but I feel like it keeps getting shorter and shorter over the years. Like, we only have truly fall weather (45-65 degrees, some wind, chilly but not miserable) for a month and a half at most. Then it's into freezing town, at least for us Pixburghers . . . So, I'm eating it up while it's here!
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
"Partner"?
Butcher and I were just commenting on this today, so I know it's not just me, but I find the word "partner," when used as a replacement for "husband," "wife," "spouse," "boyfriend," or "girlfriend," to be simply unnecessary and annoying. As Butcher put it, it's pretentious. Am I off-base here?
Why does it bother me? Well, I can only sort of articulate it, but it bugs me when married people use it b/c they seem (in my mind, at least) to be saying, "Sophisticated me has contempt for this man-made system of union, and I refuse to buy into the arbitrary concepts of 'husband' and 'wife' which are limiting and socially constructed and, therefore, only for you dummies who are not so enlightened."
But I want to be like, Hey, you're married, meaning despite whatever contempt you profess for the institution, you're a part of it. If you were so advanced, why did you GET married in the first place?
A former professor of mine seemed to use "partner" in front of certain audiences - like large groups of people whose marital/partner (haha) status and political positions are not know - but in front of others - like me, who's married and calls Brad "my husband" - he would refer to the mother of his children as his "wife." If you're going to go the partner route, then, I say, you gotta go all the way. Waffling makes no sense whatsoever.
As for why it irritates me as a "boy/girlfriend replacement," that's mainly b/c
1. Half the time people are trying to make their boy/girlfriend seem more significant than simply a boy/girlfriend. As in, I am mature and this is a serious relationhip - thus he is my partner.
2. The other half of the time, it's used to designate marriage replacement, as in, I actually do not buy into this man-made system of union, etc. etc. Which is all well and good, and I certainly understand the position.
But seeing as I think that non-easily dissolvable unions are essential to the stability not just of the family (we see how well that's going these days) but of the society, I believe the answer is not in rejecting marriage but in rejecting the way it currently works and oppresses by being the change you want to see within this problematic institution.
(All the feminist theory in the world isn't going to convince me that we need to go back to group partnering and communal child-rearing of the your-baby-is-my-baby-is-her-baby sort).
When gay people use the term, it should be noted, I do not bristle. Since most of our country has neanderthal laws, gay men and lesbians who are in committed relationships are only allowed to be partners. As for using the term for a boy/girlfriend, it also makes sense to me given so many people's reactions to a man saying, "My boyfriend and I went to dinner the other night." Why should someone subject himself (or herself) to immediate judgment at the hands of ignorant oafs?
Basically, I hate snootiness, and I've really never encountered a non-snooty heterosexual use of the term "partner" to designate a significant other. Climbing down off of soapbox . . . now-ish. :)
Why does it bother me? Well, I can only sort of articulate it, but it bugs me when married people use it b/c they seem (in my mind, at least) to be saying, "Sophisticated me has contempt for this man-made system of union, and I refuse to buy into the arbitrary concepts of 'husband' and 'wife' which are limiting and socially constructed and, therefore, only for you dummies who are not so enlightened."
But I want to be like, Hey, you're married, meaning despite whatever contempt you profess for the institution, you're a part of it. If you were so advanced, why did you GET married in the first place?
A former professor of mine seemed to use "partner" in front of certain audiences - like large groups of people whose marital/partner (haha) status and political positions are not know - but in front of others - like me, who's married and calls Brad "my husband" - he would refer to the mother of his children as his "wife." If you're going to go the partner route, then, I say, you gotta go all the way. Waffling makes no sense whatsoever.
As for why it irritates me as a "boy/girlfriend replacement," that's mainly b/c
1. Half the time people are trying to make their boy/girlfriend seem more significant than simply a boy/girlfriend. As in, I am mature and this is a serious relationhip - thus he is my partner.
2. The other half of the time, it's used to designate marriage replacement, as in, I actually do not buy into this man-made system of union, etc. etc. Which is all well and good, and I certainly understand the position.
But seeing as I think that non-easily dissolvable unions are essential to the stability not just of the family (we see how well that's going these days) but of the society, I believe the answer is not in rejecting marriage but in rejecting the way it currently works and oppresses by being the change you want to see within this problematic institution.
(All the feminist theory in the world isn't going to convince me that we need to go back to group partnering and communal child-rearing of the your-baby-is-my-baby-is-her-baby sort).
 |
| I'm pretty sure gay people couldn't marry in his day either |
Basically, I hate snootiness, and I've really never encountered a non-snooty heterosexual use of the term "partner" to designate a significant other. Climbing down off of soapbox . . . now-ish. :)
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