Wild Rice-Fiddlehead Soup and McKitten

Post op day 3: hemithyroidectomy

2010-08-28T18:27:00.002-05:00

I'm feeling pretty useless. I get up and pretty much do nothing for a couple of hours--perhaps putter about online or tag along to the grocery store, and that completely wipes me out. Emotionally, I'm on a rollercoaster, and I have waves of sadness and crying jags for no reason. I tell myself that its just hormonal changes after surgery, but that's not much of a comfort. I can't focus on anything for more than a few seconds and it feels like I'm operating my brain via long distance remote control. I want to read, but simply can't concentrate to follow the storyline in any meaningful manner, plus I fall asleep at the drop of a hat. I rock at hotflashes though, so I can say I'm good for something!

Physically, the swelling has gone down a bit so that I'm no longer hoarse, but its still tight, stiff and sore, and the area all around my incision is red and rashy looking. Last night I started putting a thin layer of hydrocortisone cream on the red area, being careful to stay away from the actual incision, and I'm much less itchy today. The wound itself is still weeping a fair amount of serous fluid and is all crusty when I wake, so I gently rinse it with sterile saline and then pat the crusties away before applying the bacitracin. The rest of my body is less sore finally, so turning in bed is easier despite my head still weighing about two tons. Baby steps of improvement, but I'll take them. My neck is numb all long the platysimus muscle, better known as the shaving muscle to you men. I'm guessing the nerve was cut during surgery, though it functions fine. That's a minor inconvenience though, and is more an interesting observation than a complaint. I uploaded a mess of pictures into a public folder on Facebook, so if you want to see the recovery process including a gratuitous shot of my actual thyroid, go look me up over there. My profile name is Katlinel Qamar Al-Shefa'a, which is a combination of my dance name and real name. The profile itself is friend only but the surgery fun photo album is open to everyone.

Post op day two: hemithyroidectomy

2010-08-27T21:19:00.001-05:00

Day two is coming to a close. I'm still surprised at how much this is taking out of me, because after a couple of hours I'm whipped and ready for a nap. I'm still having hot flashes and surges of emotion when I want to cry for no reason at all, but Les is very supportive and even bought a couple of new fans to help deal with the hot flashes. My neck is far more swollen than it was yesterday, and is red, itchy and warm to the touch beyond the area where the tegaderm was. Its weeping a little serous fluid as well. I'm not sure if its all buildup of serous fluid inside my neck, continued allergic reaction, or early infection. I'm of course anxious about infection, but I would think if it were getting infected it would hurt, and the sensation is more of heat, pressure and tightness (plus insane amounts of itching) than pain. I'm hoarse, but I can swallow alright and have no trouble breathing.

My corsets arrived today from England, so Les strapped me in and I rocked a steel boned tightlacing corset with my Frankenstein stitches. Of course, tight corset and tight swollen neck did make me feel a little claustrophobic, but I really wanted to wear one of the corsets today. :) That said, I was pretty happy to unlace when we got home from errands at Fry's.

The serous drainage from my neck was getting crusty and painful, so I took my first shower, carefully washing my hair and only getting an indirect spray of clean water on my neck for a few seconds. That was enough to rinse away the crusties, and after the shower I gently patted dry and applied some hydrocortisone cream on the red areas, careful to stay away from the incision itself. That got a light application of bacitracin, as per MD order. Hopefully the swelling will start to go down soon! I'm also really hoping its not infected and just still irritated from the tegaderm. I took benadryl last night to kill the itch because I was afraid of scratching my incision during my sleep. I'll be doing it again tonight because its still pretty itchy. If its not turning the tide tomorrow I'll be getting it checked for infection because I do NOT want a nasty infection of my surgical site. Now, I'm off to try and find a comfy sleeping position and rest my neck from my five ton head.

Post op day 1: at home

2010-08-26T23:25:00.002-05:00

After discharge, we dropped off my pain Rx at Walmart and since we had a 30-60 minute wait, went to get dinner. Chicken fried steak was EXACTLY what I wanted for some reason, and hit the spot. I am still stiff all over, and can't really turn my head, but have no swallow issues, and definitely notice that its a LOT easier to breathe. I have a little swelling and am stiff from that, but really its the itching from the tegaderm that is driving me batty. Dinner finished, I'm rapidly running out of energy, so we head back to pick up my pain med so I can go home and crash. I waited in line only to be told that I couldn't pick up my prescription because it wasn't due for refill yet! I was flabbergasted. What refill? I had been discharged from the hospital two hours before and it was the initial prescription! It seems that the hospital had called it into their pharmacy even though we had a paper Rx from the day before to fill, and they had filled it and charged my insurance even though we hadn't picked it up there. Between that, hot flashes, sheer exhaustion and my head weighing five metric tons, I was ready to cry. The Walmart pharmacist was very nice about it and tracked down the problem, having them reverse the charge to my insurance so we could pick it up there rather than fight rush hour traffic back to UCSD to pick it up.

Once home I took a vicodin and crawled into bed, gone to the world in a matter of minutes. A few of our ubiquitous El Cajon ants crawled on me during the night and I was filled with the mental picture of having my incision attacked by thousands of them, rather like they attacked Lillith's mouse a few weeks ago. Of course, nothing of the sort happened, and I slept all night, undisturbed except by some pretty achy position changes. Les was delighted to report that I didn't snore at all, and he actually woke several times to make sure I was still breathing. The surgery was worth it for the greater ease in breathing alone, let alone the final definitive word on benign vs malignant.

Day one, post hemithyroidectomy

2010-08-26T14:03:00.001-05:00

Day one post op. I was sore, but really not nearly as badly as I expected. The dressing itches something fiercely, and has a small amount of bloody drainage on it. I snapped a cellphone camera photo to document it, as well as a nice one of my huge purple hematomato on my arm. The latter is actually quite a lovely colour. The local is pretty well worn off so I rang for some pain medication to keep things to a dull roar, since they are tolerable but definitely reaching the decidedly uncomfortable mark. The doc ordered morphine--great. Not only does it not do anything for pain for me, it gives me the dread urinary retention. While getting up to pee every two hours is not fun, having urinary retention is less fun. Vanessa was wonderful and listened to my concern, getting me an order for Vicodin which does work for me. She offered 2 tabs,but one generally knocks me on my ass, so one it was. Sure enough,an hour later I was out cold from it, rousing only to go to the bathroom or change positions. My neck isn't very swollen but I can't really lie on my right side because its pretty sore then. The hot flashes are continuing and are a big surprise. It feels like my inner child got her hands on flamethrower, not just matches! My emotions are all over the place, alternately elated and weepy for no reason. Its got to be horomonal flux, but jeeze, they didn't take ovaries, just half my thyroid! I'm also getting VERY sore all over, so turning from side to side and getting out of bed is an achy project. I feel like I've been hit by a truck, and it doesn't make sense given the surgery I had.

On the plus side. by 2 am last night the nausea was gone and my appetite was back in a big way. The doc advanced my diet and that 2 am sandwich was nectar of the gods. Breakfast this morning had more calories on the tray than I usually have in an entire day, and I picked at it, eating the protein, but really having little interest in the muffin or sugary cereal. After breakfast the doc and his entourage of minions arrived to check me out and (to my surprise) remove the dressing. The pulling wasn't a lot of fun, but the dressing has been so itchy that I'm glad to have it off. Now, I wait for Les to wake up so I can be discharged.

I lived!

2010-08-25T17:45:00.000-05:00

After surgery I remember things in bits and pieces. I woke as I was getting hooked up the the monitors and they were changing my gown which was soaked with sweat and putting a cool air blower on me. That thing felt SO good. I had pain, but not as much as I expected, about a 4/10. I also had some nausea, but it was in the background. I didn't feel like I was going to throw up right away, but was definitely slightly nauseous. My first thought was "I lived!" and my second was "Half or whole?". They told me it was only half and I drifted back into oblivion, still making my best attempt to breathe deeply since I was dimly aware that my breathing was shallow and my O2 sats around 90%.

The next time I woke, Les was there and I was SO glad to see him. He looked exhausted, but he was a beautiful sight, and that kiss was the sweetest I've ever had. I noticed my arm hurt and saw that my IV had blown--I was sporting one impressive bruise on my arm where they had put the 18. OK, where is the IV now? To my surprise, it was tiny little 22 in my right hand. Great--its going to hurt to flush. I would have thought they would have placed a 20 though. Now I was aware that I really had to go pee, but wasn't yet in any shape to get up to go to the bathroom. I was asleep again before they could bring a bedpan.

The next few hours were a blur, but eventually they got a very wobbly me up to the bathroom and I was able to partially empty my bladder. Blessed relief. Les and I were then relocated to an overflow unit since the head and neck floor was full and didn't have a bed for me yet. What a nurse patient ratio! There were two nurses and I was the only patient. I gingerly sipped some juice, very welcome but slightly nausea provoking, so I kept it to a slow sip rate. My neck does hurt, but its very tolerable and it feels like they used marcaine or something to numb the area up because its distinctly numb. My throat isn't nearly as sore as I expected. I kept falling asleep again in between bathroom trips every 2 hours to pee. Finally the anaesthesia is wearing off enough that I can pee somewhat normally.

Les left around 4pm to get ready to work...another night shift on no sleep. I was worried about him falling asleep driving, but kept drifting off to sleep again myself. Around five pm my room was ready on the head and neck floor and they brought a wheelchair, asking if I could walk. I though he meant walk to the eleventh floor (I was on the sixth) and carry my pillow and bag of stuff! I was thinking that I wasn't in any shape to walk that far, not realizing he was asking could I walk to get into the wheelchair. *lol* Of course I could do THAT, I had been walking to the bathroom every couple of hours. They ended up transporting me by gurney because of the equipment they needed to bring, and in short order I find myself meeting my nurse Vanessa, the charge nurse, the aide (who calls EVERYONE Mamma) and respiratory therapy. The room has a nice view, and is a private room, though I can certainly hear all the other patients around me. Another potty trip (they are getting old) and a clear liquid dinner tray and I was lost in sleep again. Drug coma was actually pretty welcome at that point since I was worn out despite having done pretty much nothing. I'm having serious hot flashes, so the AC feels good as I drift off yet again.

I'm a ball of nerves.

2010-08-25T07:35:00.000-05:00

We arrived at the hospital and I was so nervous I almost forgot to pay for our parking in the UCSD parking structure. Les was more level headed and reminded me so we took care of that before finding our way to admissions. The admitting clerk was convinced I had only paid $122 of my deductible, and I know bloody well I had to pay $500 before my CT scan so I met the deductible. The $122 is the portion my insurance paid out for the $325 test so I should have a credit. They wouldn't admit me until that was sorted out, so we had to sit for 40 minutes until they got ahold of my insurance company who confirmed I had paid $500 and met my deductible. This was NOT what I needed on top of already being over the top anxious about surgery.

We found our way to pre-op admitting at last and I was pleasantly surprised to find that they had a private room for changing rather than a curtained area with a gurney. I changed out of my buttery soft grey shreddie Melos (they sort of look like cigarette ash) and my comfy top and into their ginormous gown and ugly tan grippy socks. I had gone commando and sans bra since I knew I would have to take them off anyhow. I would rather not lose nice lingerie and wouldn't want to wear old lingerie to the hospital anyhow, so commando it was. My vitals were taken and the initial admissions questions addressed, after which they started my IV. I have small veins and am not an easy stick so I suggested he put in a 20, which is big enough for surgery but small enough for my veins to take without blowing. In went an 18, and to my surprise, there was virtually no pain at all. One hurdle crossed. Les waited with me for about ten minutes and then we had a tearful goodbye as I was popped into a wheelchair to head off to preop staging.

I met with the pre-op nurse, expressed my wish to avoid an intra-op catheter if possible (I got the mother of all UTIs after my last intra-op cath), and also mentioned that morphine doesn't work for me for post op pain, but does give me a rollicking good case of urinary retention. They gave me a TV remote to watch TV while waiting for the anaethesiologist, surgeon and circulator. There is nothing on at 7 am anyhow, and I was far too keyed up to watch anything so I sat there wishing dearly for some versed. I met with the anaesthesiologist, got my questions answered and concerns about nausea and post op morphine addressed as well as being briefed on the agents he would use for me. All is good. Can I have some Versed now?

Met with the surgeon and his entourage of residents and interns and was marked. He gave the intern grief since her mark was rather more central than to the right and the plan is for a right hemithyroidectomy and isthmusectomy, with possible total thyroidectomy depending upon how things look in there. Met with the circulator. Can I have Versed yet? Got unhooked from the IV for a last minute potty break to hopefully avoid that catheter. NOW can I have some Versed? I could have used it an hour ago. They hooked me back up to fluids (hmmm...they use blood tubing. I certainly hope I don't need a transfusion for this!) and it hurt like a son of a bitch when they flushed the IV. Versed please? The line is still patent. Nancy came by from PACU since she works there as well as at the Kaiser Zion PACU and it was VERY good to see a familiar face. She was a blessing for a little bit until anaesthesia showed with my very much welcome 2 mg of Versed. We wheeled down the hall, though several sets of doors and into the OR. I scooted over to the table and they started getting me strapped down. The show is on the road. The next thing I know, I vaguely remember someone starting a new IV on me and someone saying that we needed it now because the IV had blown. After that, oblivion and no more nerves.

S-day is here! Time to have my thyroid out at last...

2010-08-25T04:10:00.002-05:00

After a couple of biopsies and doing some research, I settled upon Dr. Weisman of UCSD to do my thyroid surgery. He did a CT scan a few weeks ago that showed at 40% occlusion of my airway, explaining the strangling sensation I've been complaining about for quite some time. It also impacts my swallowing, so I'll be glad to have it out though I'm ridiculously nervous about surgery itself. I know I'm healthy and a low risk candidate, but I'm afraid of dying during surgery and I'm just not ready to stop living yet. I feel like I've started to hit my stride and I have LOT more living to do.

Yesterday I worked, then came home and changed for dance class. I normally take all three of Sabrina's classes, but I ran out of energy after two and a half hours and bailed on the last hour in favour of getting something to eat. I fired up Garmin and the closest Indian restaurant was in the Gaslamp. As expected, there was NO parking in the Gaslamp, so I headed to Hillcrest instead. Wonder of wonders, I found parking within thirty seconds of arriving in Hillcrest, AND even better, it was across the street from an Indian restaurant. I had decided I wanted Indian food in case it was my last meal. I had lamp saag with palak stuffed parantha and galub jamun for dessert. Diet be damned. I also had a half a beer. I just couldn't finish it though the amount I had did help somewhat with nerves. I drove home, chugged water until midnight, showered, washed my hair and braided it wet to contain it for surgery, and packed the things I wanted to take to the hospital for my overnight stay.

Its now just after 4 am and I'm reluctantly awake and getting ready to head out. Poor Les worked all night and got his boss to let him leave a little early so he could take me to UCSD this morning. The plan is for him to stay with me but he just suggested coming home to sleep and them coming back to the hospital after surgery to see me. I couldn't help it, I burst into tears. I do NOT want to be alone waiting to go back to surgery.

Still more fun with biopsies

2009-06-15T12:23:00.003-05:00

After some teeth pulling, I got my appointment with interventional radiology a week and a half later. This time it was at the hospital rather than the office, and the staff was wonderful. When I checked in I wanted to conform the test and Dr Asshat had ordered another needle aspiration biopsy. I told them that I would not sign a consent for that and we were doing either a punch biopsy or an inscisional biopsy because I wanted to be positive that they got enough tissue! They went back and consulted with the doc who would be doing the procedure and he understood how I felt and sent out a consent for a punch/core biopsy. Finally, someone who will listen to me!

The repeat biopsy was done the way the first one SHOULD have been done. They had me lay down and did an ultrasound of the offending mass, draped me and then numbed the area well with lidocaine. Lidocaine burns when it goes into the tissue, but after that it is beautiful stuff so I didn't mind the few second of burning at all. When they actually took the samples, they used the ultrasound to ensure they were in the tissue--it was pretty neat really because you could see the needle advancing on the ultrasound screen. The needle itself is fairly large and spring loaded so that when they are in the desired area they activate it and it jabs down to cut a quick core, after which it retracts and the sample is placed in a formalin transport solution. I felt the pressure of course, but no real pain, though the click of the needle activating did always make me a jump a little. They took a total of three samples and then had me wait while those were run up to pathology for a quick wet mount to ensure that they had enough tissue for diagnosis. They did thankfully, but had they not they would have just repeated the procedure to get a diagnostic sample. That little step felt good because it meant we would have answers finally.

After the biopsy it did feel like my neck was going to explode when I would cough, but when I was between coughing jags it was just a deep dull aching and muscle soreness. When I coughed though it was pretty funny because I had to use one had to cover my mouth and the other to support my throat with some counter pressure in order to minimize the discomfort. Fortunately, that only lasted two days and then I was just left with a bruise that looked unfortunately like a hickey. I'm not complaining however--they did their job properly and with as little discomfort to me as possible.

A week later the results from the second biopsy were in--blessedly benign. My bloodwork was abnormal though, and it seems that the mass has decided to function autonomously and produce thyroid hormones which is leaving me hyperthyroid rather than the borderline hypothyroid its been all these years.

While I am definitely relieved that its not cancerous (nor is it Hashimoto's thyroiditis) the fact remains that it is causing issues because of its size. I always feel like I have a hand on my throat and do have some difficulty swallowing at times. At least a few times a week I aspirate liquids, usually when I'm really thirsty and not paying attention to swallowing. It is also uncomfortable when I sleep because I can sleep curled up fetal style like I always do--I feel like I can't breathe then so I have to throw the upper arm back and drape my arm over my hip/buttock area in order to open up my airway enough to feel like my breathing is unobstructed. This makes my shoulder unhappy but is certainly preferable to feeling like I can't breathe well! According to Les, I also now snore pretty loudly--something I never used to do unless I had a cold. I got one of those moldable mouthpieces and that does help with the snoring, but I'm thinking that taking out that half of the thyroid is really the best plan for me. It will remove the mechanical obstruction making me for comfortable, take care of the hormone issue, and mean that I don't have to have repeat biopsies every six months. It will also remove the offending tissue so that I can have peace of mind that I don't have a time bomb ticking in my neck just waiting to turn malignant on me. Yes, there are risks and I may end up hypothyroid in the long run, but I feel that the risks outweigh the benefits. On to the next stage!

Fun with biopsies

2009-05-30T12:01:00.002-05:00

As those of you who read the comments may have noticed, in recent months I was found to have a 3.6 cm mass on the right side of my thyroid, and a smaller nodule on the left side. I went through an anxious few months in the initial workup and also learned how to be as pro-active as I need to in order to get appointments in a reasonable time frame. The first endocrinologist (who I dislike for a number of reasons) kept me waiting for well over an hour for my appointment, then breezed in and spent about a minute and a half with me before zipping out again. Honestly, while he knows his stuff, he came off as a pompous ass. They wanted to schedule a biopsy in office in a month since he was going on vacation for three weeks. I had a polite fit and said that was far too long to wait to learn if I had cancer or not. They then got me an appointment with one of his partners for the next week.

I arrived for that appointment understandably anxious, but also eager to have it done with so that I would have some answers. When I requested lidocaine prior to the biopsy (since everything I've read had said that they use lidocaine first to make it more comfortable), the partner refused to give me any saying that it was quick and he uses a small needle so I wouldn't need it. Um, dude...you are sticking needles in MY NECK, I frigging want lidocaine! He then takes a quick peek at my thyroid with an ultrasound, decided where he wants to go and takes three samples. It is a deep somewhat sharp ache with a strong pulling sensation as he takes each sample, and oddly enough, even though the three samples were taken in one small area, I felt referred pain in three different places: behind my left ear, in the occipital region of my head, and up toward the crown of my head. No, he never did give me lidocaine. Because I knew the main endocrinologist was away for three weeks I told him that I wanted the results as soon as they were in, and did not want to wait three weeks--I wanted answers! He promised me he would call when they were in...and then never did. When they came in five days later the office staff refused to give me any information, saying that the doctor had to read it first. I understand that but his partner was there and was supposed to release my results. After days and days of calling the office staff, they finally strong-armed a different partner into giving me the results--the asshat who was supposed to call me finally did, at the three week mark. All that stress (which also made my asthma spiral wildly out of control) and the results were that there were no results because asshat hadn't gotten any thyroid tissue! Asshat wanted to schedule a repeat aspiration biopsy in the office and I told him pointblank that that was not going to happen. What we were going to do was schedule a punch biopsy in interventional radiology to be SURE we got enough tissue, and no, it was NOT going to be in a month, it was going to be ASAP. He said that yes, that sounded like a reasonable plan and went off to order it. You bet your lying smarmy ass thats a reasonable plan!

California suits me perfectly

2009-02-22T12:14:00.002-05:00

As the years have gone by, I have found myself hating winter more and more. It reached the point where our short summer season turned into about a month of enjoyment and two months of mud season and dreading the autumn because I knew that nine long months of cold and dark were on their way. Yes, the autumnal displays were beautiful, but all too short lived, and hard on their heels were snow, ice, and darkness at 4 pm.

After 41 years in the northeast, I pulled up stakes and headed west in my new job as a traveling nurse. I've now been in southern California for five months and can honestly say that I have never been happier in my life. Work still has the same challenges, and on occasion has left me in tears of frustration, but it rolls off once I'm home again. Cold here is a relatively balmy low 50s, and though I break out my wool coat, its worn with sandals and minus the hat, scarf, longjohns, and other cold weather accoutrement. I'm a half hour from the beach and even went skinny dipping in the ocean in December. There are flowers all year long, as well as new treats like cactus fruits, churros, and cerviche. The bellydance community here is warm and wonderful though there does seem to be a pronounced cab vs tribal line of division. If we wanted to, we could go see a bellydance performance every day of the week, and on some days, more than one. Add to that my wonderful sweetheart and life here makes me happier than I've ever been before.

2007-11-03T22:43:00.001-05:00

WOOT! We are celebrities!

2007-10-30T23:15:00.001-05:00

Rain won't stop me....

2007-09-11T00:34:00.000-05:00

Waving hi from the side of the highway

I've been wanting to do a photoshoot with the giant whale tail sculptures on the side of the highway for a while now, so when the day finally came and the weather wasn't the nicest, I wasn't about to let it stop me. I had planned on taking shots with both wings of Isis and my silk fire veil, but because of the rain I opted to forget the veil, since the silk just wouldn't fly when weighed down with rain. That compromise aside, it was a lot of fun even with the rain. I'm not sure its really legal to park on the side of the highway unless its an emergency, so we tried to make it a speedy affair. As soon as I unfurled the wings, passing cars and trucks started honking their horns. I'm going to take those as honks of approval and surprise rather than honking at the crazy woman dancing around with giant silver wings by the whale tails.

We managed to get a nice set of shots in record time--I think we were there all of about 15 minutes. It was long enough to get chilled to the bone, but not long enough to be sopping wet. Looking at the photos and comparing them to shots from a year ago I noticed that I definitely look smaller and more toned despite the scale telling me that I've gained. I'm still working on getting the scale numbers down, but the photos don't lie. I'm pretty sure I put on some muscle since if it were all fatty tissue I would look larger rather than smaller. I've kicked up my dance schedule as well--I now take about five hours of class a week, plus have troupe rehearsal and daily practice on my own . That practice is about to increase even more since have to choreograph a solo with the wings for our New Years Eve gig at the state capitol. I want to put on a good show for all the New Year's revelers!

More Centralia photos

2007-08-27T18:00:00.000-05:00

The largest crack in the highway, smokier, wider, and heaved up on one side a good 9 inches higher over two years.

Video of one of the cracks in the highway...note the smoke.

Centralia revisited.

2007-08-27T17:41:00.000-05:00

I took my annual trip south to take my eldest daughter to school (actually this time to catch her flight to Italy for her year studying abroad) and again routed through Frackville so that we could see the changes in Centralia. The town itself looks pretty much the same, but the abandoned section of route 61 has been getting worse each year. The ground underfoot has always been hot, to the point where barefoot it was only tolerable for 5-6 minutes. This year it was so hot that it actually started melting the soles of my shoes, and there was MUCH more smoke emanating from the cracks and fissures in the road. Photos from our first trip in 2005 are here for comparison to the photos I'm uploading now. Its a huge amount of change in three years!
Not only was it a humid 96 degree day, but the heat coming off the ground was intense!

For comparison, this photo of the "Mommy crack" was taken in 2005. The same crack today (with my foot for size comparison--shoes ON this time):

She's leaving, on a jet plane...

2007-08-25T12:00:00.000-05:00

Its been a bittersweet few days. My eldest daughter, my firstborn, my creative and talented artistic wonder is headed off to Italy for a year. She has the opportunity to study abroad for her Junior year at University, and the logical destination for an Italian major would be old Italia. I'm absolutely thrilled for her, and very excited that she's going, but its a bittersweet joy since she'll be gone for almost a year and a half. We are headed down to Pennsylvania to take her to catch her flight out, and I swear that she is the lightest packer ever! She has one 48 pound suitcase and one small carry-on bag. Thats a tiny amount of luggage to cover all of her needs for a year. I'll have to send her some care packages since I'm sure she'll need more than that during the year. One project once I'm home again is to get her a set of silk long underwear and custom dye it--warm, comfy and beautiful for my jewel of a daughter. I think I miss her already and she hasn't even boarded the plane yet!

I'm in business

2007-08-08T14:14:00.001-05:00

Melodia's Magic Pants Map of World Domination

2007-05-23T21:57:00.000-05:00

If you have Melos, place your pin!

Teenagers can be so SO awesome.

2007-05-21T16:14:00.000-05:00

This morning I staggered to the bathroom, half asleep, ready for the morning ablutions. What should I find on the toilet paper roll but the above message...I quite literally burst out laughing. It seems my 16 year old used the last of the paper, and rather than look for a new roll, left me this love note. I just love teenagers! They can be incredibly trying at times, but at other times they are wonderfully funny and creative. This totally made my day!

I will never leave the house again...

2007-05-19T12:02:00.000-05:00

without marinating in sunblock anyhow. The sunburn I got from the parade blossomed into a bad second degree burn, and the tender skin on my cleavage that doesn't often see sun blistered. After it blistered it ended up cracking open and developing into cellulitis, which is a bad soft tissue infection of the skin at a cellular level. It was spreading and I outlined the red areas with a sharpie to keep track of them. Once it was clear that it was extending beyond the outlining and getting worse, I broke down and went to the doctor. She actually asked if I had gone to the ER for treatment, and made an awful face when she saw it. The best treatment for burns is Silvadene cream which has colloidal silver in it as well as other good things, but since I am deathly allergic to sulfa drugs which are a component of this, I had to use two other creams: a heavy duty antibiotic and a lidocaine ointment to kill the pain. It was actually excruciatingly painful and would keep me awake at night, so I was more than happy to numb the girls. They still ache all the time, but its a constant dull ache instead of a sharp, burning pain, and its very tolerable. What really makes me kick myself is that this was entirely preventable had I just remembered that SPF 60. *sigh*

Oh well. The creams are working their magic, and while there will be scarring, it looks like it'll fade over 6-12 months. I have to debride the dead tissue in the shower and then apply the creams, but it looks SO much better and is no longer splitting and oozing. The cellulitis is almost completely resolved with just one weeks worth of antibiotics, so once I finish the second week I'll be good to go. The new skin will be very delicate however, and will absolutely require tons of sunblock at all times--not a problem as I definitely learned my lesson. I still want a melanin transplant though!

I need a melanin transplant

2007-05-08T15:50:00.000-05:00

I swear that almost all of the melanin in my body is concentrated in a very cool oval shaped two inch long birthmark on my left shin. Its quite cute actually, and long ago I named it Spot. It is THE most beautiful cafe-au-lait shade of brown and I've always wanted to be that colour all over. Sadly, I am instead ridiculously fair, and pretty much never tan, though I might beige a little by the end of the summer. I've given up even trying to tan as I never manage more than a good lobster impression, followed by exfoliation in sheets. :( Rather, I just marinate in sunblock and leave it at that.

For the All Species parade, I worked late into the night for a number of nights before finishing my costume, and the night before the parade was up half the night sewing and making a troupe banner, since we didn't have one. I grabbed about four hours of sleep, got up and spent several hours getting into costume, hair (wheee---dreads down to my tush) and makeup, and then gathered the things we needed, including zills and new elastic as I had flung a zill a few days earlier. I remembered nearly everything...I forgot a critical item for an obscenely fair skinned person however. I forgot my trusty SPF 60. Needless to say, I burnt to a crisp--just barely shy of blistering. Thankfully my costume had long sleeves and covered most of me, but my face, chest, cleavage and belly were very well toasted. Its now four days later and my poor chest is even sorer than before, despite making sure to put SPF 60 on lavishly before leaving the house since the burn. Its my own fault of course, but it makes me SO envious of all of you out there blessed with more melanin than I have. Anyone care to donate any to the cause? I'm putting myself on the melanin transplant list!

Above is not a good shot because the burn got much brighter after this, plus you can't see the way cool stripeys from coin head-dress and belly drape, but it does show at least a little of the burn.

All Species Day parade

2007-05-05T21:33:00.000-05:00

All Species Day is an obscure Vermont festival held in Montpelier each year. People dress up in animal, plant and nature themed costumes and spend the day in dance ceremonies, a parade, and culminates with live performances and a Maypole on the Statehouse lawn. Our troupe director was asked to be the spring maiden, central in the ceremonies and festivities, but had to bow out due to time constraints caused by her upcoming wedding. The troupe decided to march in the parade anyhow and had fun though it was a bit of mixed bag in my mind.

The parade itself was a riot of colour and costumes and overall exuberant joy, but it was also THE most disorganized clusterf*ck I've ever been in and that made me a bit crazy, because we put a lot of rehearsal time and planning into our parade dance and traveling steps. We had a whole routine choreographed, including travel steps, turns, transitions, different people leading with transitions between lead dancers, and zilling patterns. For those of you who don't know, zills are the brass finger cymbals worn by bellydancers. We were supposed to be following the group of geese puppets, but as the organizers never lined anyone up, the parade happened as a mob scene. I didn't really care WHERE we were in the lineup, but organization would have been nice. Next, instead of proceeding at a parade pace, it was almost a jog. It seems that they took too much time in the park putzing around, and then were late starting the parade. To compensate, they set off at a jog, and a 90 minute long parade lasted about 20 minutes. It was physically impossible to do our choreography at that pace, so we had to re-choreograph on the fly. We put on a good performance, but it was so fast that no one could really appreciate any of the parade. The turns and transitions had to go because the group behind us was practically running us over and one man with the float of the sun was literally breathing on the neck of one of our dancers, which was very uncomfortable for her. We made the best of a bad situation though, and the crowd really loved it when we broke into 3/4 shimmies. Those are exhausting at that pace however, so we had to do them in short bursts.
On the fun side, my dreadlocks got their maiden voyage and that was fun. One woman actually came up to me and asked how to start dreads in her hair, so my dreadfalls must be quite convincing. They ARE real hair, given to me as a birthday present by my troupe director when she cut them off. I dyed them to match my own hair (eight boxes of dye!) and sewed them to hair combs. Once on my head, I wrapped a half turban from some leftover silk I had and they were secure enough for dancing, spins, and as you can see, backbends.

The other downside of the parade? a HORRIBLE sunburn because I forgot the sunblock. That was painful lesson to learn.

Vintage shot

2007-04-30T14:06:00.000-05:00

I just love this shot. Its not really a vintage photo, obviously, since at 40 I'm hardly vintage, but the colour density reminds me of the beautiful technicolour films of the 1950s...particularly Italian films.

And the Dance goes on...

2007-04-28T14:15:00.000-05:00

We've had lots of troupe and solo dancing since February, including some impromptu dancing out in the snow during an end of April storm. This was a dance of desperation---go AWAY snow, its time for spring already. It seems to have worked as it got warm the next day and melted all the snow. We've also done a couple of fund raisers including one for a Battered Women's Shelter. The theme for that show was fusion, so I fused bagpipes and bellydance...I made a tartan themed costume which has been dubbed the Highland Bellydance costume and danced to bagpipe rock by Prydien.

I'm sitting and I can't get up

2007-02-26T08:46:00.000-05:00

I'm wearing VERY full open bottom dance pants. Full as in grab the bottom edge and they'll come up to the top of my head when I hold my arm out. I went to get up from the chair and had great difficulty as something was sticking me to the floor. Pull up my pant leg and what do I see? The 4 month old boycat taking a snooze IN my pantleg, with his claws nailing the fabric to the carpet. Silly cat! Perhaps its his revenge for the recent trip to the vet to get "tutored".

Postponement

2007-02-18T07:00:00.000-05:00

I was supposed to be one of the featured performers at a monthly bellydance soirée up in Burlington this evening. Despite the storm being days ago, and the roads relatively clear, it was canceled for that night and postponed for a month because there is just no place to put the snow. Burlington has zilch for parking, all the spots being completely buried in snow, the side roads are horrid, and in all likelihood the audience would be very sparse due to the lack of parking, but its still a bit of a disappointment. Thankfully Mystique called to let me know before I ran through my sword piece six or seven times, and before I started the hours long process of hair and makeup. Getting into costume isn't bad--its the hair and makeup that take forever.

Oh well--I certainly wouldn't want anyone to risk injury to go, and it does give me extra time to choreograph something for the second song I had hoped to use. The new date is the 10th of March, and I'll work on making it extra special, since I would like to dedicate my dance that night to my son for his 18th birthday.

Post storm photos

2007-02-16T08:15:00.000-05:00

My youngest daughter after leaping off the porch-rail into the four feet of snow gracing the yard.

The storm didn't stop the Valentine's bandit, and this time s/he got the capitol building!

The gargantuan snow pile in the parking lot at the Lenny's/Brooks plaza. Get an idea of the height by checking out the lot light right behind the pile!

Believe it or not, this snowbank is actually my 88 VW Quantum. Since digging it out will take days, and I didn't want a plow to hit it, I put a warning sign on it.

A slightly closer view

Superhuman effort--getting to work

2007-02-15T08:57:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was dubbed the storm of the century, despite the century being a mere seven years old. Its like the big blizzards we used to get in the 70's, and will now permit my kids to tell their children about snow in the good old days some years hence. I remember a series of storms back in 78 or so followed by one huge storm that had the houses virtually buried. Each house had such high snowbanks that if you climbed on top of them it was a short one foot up hop to the roof--on the second floor! We played on the roofs because there was little else in the way of playspace, and we certainly didn't get hurt jumping off the roof. Well, this storm was enough to rival those storms. I had to work that night and deserve combat pay for the adventures I had getting the short 5 miles or so from home up to the hospital.

Standing beside the car before digging...

During excarvation the next day

I got up relatively early because I knew I would have to do a lot of shoveling--little did I know HOW much shoveling I would be doing. The landlord pays for a plow to come for the driveway, but he never comes at a time practical for me, since I work nights and have to leave around 6:30pm. My daughter had called from her friend's house, and when I had asked how much snow he got, she said "You don't want to know." At this point it was still falling at a good 3 inches an hour or so. I opened the door and found snow that came halfway up my thigh.

The view out my window

I spent hours shoveling so as to be ready to leave early and hopefully get to work somewhat on time, only to then have the city plow come by and bury the end of the arduously excavated driveway waist deep. I called work to let them know what had occurred, and give them a heads up that I would be late due to once again needing to dig out. Blessedly, three people from the homeless shelter down the street came down and helped me dig out--a much welcomed act of kindness.

Note the nice hat on the car prior to leaving for work

With the driveway clear I left for work, approximately 6:45pm, which wasn't bad at all. Well, my elation was to be short lived. Because we had hand shoveled, the driveway was quite narrow, and I promptly got stuck front and back. More shoveling ensued and I eventually managed to get out of the driveway and onto what passed for a road. The snow was falling much faster than the plows could keep up with, so its an understatement to say road conditions were poor. I made it around the corner, only to to get stuck in the middle of the road thanks to some yahoo who had used his snowblower and blown the contents of his driveway into the road. I had aimed for the relatively clear road, but got caught in just enough of the snowblower detritus to be stuck. A passerby helped push me out and I made it as far as the traffic light one block down. My car is low to the ground and had great difficulty making it over the plow wash in the intersection, so it took four full cycles of the traffic light to actually make it through the intersection. At this point I was having serious doubt about the wisdom of trying to get to work, but since I live so close I was determined to try. Soon I was making it up the hill with relative ease--at least in comparison to the misadventures thus far. Visions of the parking lot at work filled my head, quickly followed by visions of the shoveling I would need to do to leave work in the morning.

As I made it to within yards of the top of the hill, I saw a flare in the road and the blue lights of a police car. No surprise that there had been some sort of accident--it was hellish out there...if hell had frozen over. Not only was there an accident, it consisted of a jackknifed semi completely blocking the road. I could have walked the rest of the way to the hospital, except for the fact that I couldn't leave my car in the road. Despite protesting that I was essential personnel and needed to get to work, the police sent me back home, since there was physically no way to get past the truck. I of course slid off the road on the way back down the hill (at a blazing fast 10mph), but since I had thought to bring a shovel, I was able to dig out in about 30 minutes or so and make it back down the hill to home.

Arriving at home was a relief...until I saw that a plow had filled in the parking spot I had spent five hours labouring to clear. I wanted to cry! I impaled the car on the bank to get it enough out of the way to let the neighbours through, and went in to call work and let them know I was once again back at home. I was more than willing to go to work, but they would have to send someone with a plow or 4 wheel drive truck to pick me up, because I was simply NOT going to try and drive up again. Twenty minutes later my hero arrived in his shining maroon and silver armour. The husband of one of the day nurses was in the area doing private plowing in his truck, and he kindly gave me a ride up to work, the semi now having been plowed out and towed out the road. Drifts in the road? No problem--he just dropped his plow and poof! The snow evaporated and we continued on our way. I ended up being over two hours late that night, but I did make it in to work. If I had any other job than nurse at the hospital, I would have called in, but the patients needed care no matter what the weather.

MUST we get the entire winter's worth of snow at once?

2007-02-14T16:48:00.000-05:00

Valentine's day, 3 pm. Scheduled for work that night and upon awakening took a gander at this...

While I did have concerns about drought niggling at the back of my mind from the very late start to winter, and the relative dearth of snow, that did not mean I wanted four feet of snow at one whack. I was sick of winter BEFORE the blizzard, and now after tons of shoveling I'm significantly more tired of winter. The consolation is that the frigid part of winter is over, and after a good three weeks of temperatures in the -25 F range, the current temps of about 14 F feel positively balmy. No longer am I bothering with hat, and unless I'm shoveling (grrrrr), mittens. I don't even bother to button my coat unless its windy out, and if I'm hot from dance that remains true even with bare midriff. Its a funny thing how that happens towards the end of the winter, whereas earlier in the season we are shivering in the upper 20s and bundled up.

West African Dance kicks ass!

2007-02-01T09:27:00.000-05:00

My troupe director suggested that if I was in the mood for a good workout, I should try this West African dance class she takes. Whoooooooweee, did it ever kick ass--mine! It was 90 minutes of super aerobic energetic jumping, hopping, kicking, and generally having a good time. There were 5 drummers and the drumming was amazing, including one father son team. That boy may only be eleven, but he has a major gift in the music department and can play drums better than many adults I've heard.

I had never met the instructor before but evidently he's seen me dance, as when I walked in the room he promptly introduced me to the drummers as "a fine, fine bellydancer." *lol* It was very sweet and rather overly generous in my mind as a baby bellydancer, but I was quite surprised that he recognized me so quickly. It seems he saw my sword dance at a restaurant on New Year's eve and another performance at a cafe in the town he lives in.

Given that I've never done this form of dance before, I followed it pretty well, with only a couple of the combinations eluding me. I could have picked them up as well had they been broken down a bit, but that wasn't the structure of the class. My strategy was to watch his feet first and get the footwork down, then add the arms, and finally and postural things and hand/wrist gestures. The tricky part was only having a few seconds to observe before I had to jump in and do it. *lol* While this particular dance form is fun, exhuberant and challenging, it hasn't bit me like raqs sharqi, but I'll be keeping it up simply for fun and one hell of a workout.

I am fairly sore today, but considering the high energy level and intensive leg use, I'm not nearly as sore as I thought I would be. Last night after class my thighs were shaking with exhaustion and I would have thought walking was going to be a painful endeavor for days. I'm definitely aware of my legs (and to a lesser extent my chest), but I'm not nearly as stiff I expected. Yay for stretching and hydration! Marinating in Ben Gay when I got home probably helped as well. Next time however, I need an ultra supportive bra. The girls did not appreciate 90 minutes of jumping and hopping!

New Year's eve photos

2007-01-25T18:10:00.000-05:00

Sword!

2007-01-25T17:55:00.000-05:00

I took a stab at choreography and choreographed a sword dance in about two and a half weeks for a New Year's eve performance. I was terribly nervous about it as I'm a new performer and had never done any choreo of my own, plus its sword and George can always act up and leap off of whatever balance point I'm using. I ran a rough draft of it past my instructor and she assured me that she wasn't bored at all--I thought it was fairly simple and was afraid it was somewhat repetitive. I kept practicing, with my eldest daughter in the other room rolling her eyes as George slipped and dented the floor, or worse, slipped and gave me yet another egg on my skull. Gradually it came together, and I did a run through for my troupe sisters which was very well recieved. New Year's ever George and I did our debut and it was a big hit!

I did notice that the men ALL kept their legs crossed during the performance, evidently for fear that I was going to do double duty as a moyle. *lol* I had choreographed for one room but had to dance in two, so I would do a slightly shortened version of what I had planned and then dance into the other room for siple spins and whatnot. Once I get past the "introduce George to the audience" part of the dance I balance him on my shoulder, and then balance him on my hip and eventually my head. Well, as I danced in the second room by one table, a guy asked his friend "Hey, is that glued to her head or what?" The reply? "No dude, it was on her shoulder a few minutes ago!" I got such a chuckle out of that.

Its time to practice the dance again as I've been asked to perform it up in Burlington next month. I think I'll see what else I can add to the floorwork portion of the dance, since the floor at the cafe I'll be performing in is teensy!

Speaking of dance....

2006-12-21T15:31:00.000-05:00

We are busily gearing up and in rehearsals for our New Year's eve performance. I'm a little anxious about that in terms of recalling all the new choreography, but more nervous about the end of the show. I'm bringing up the end of the show with a sword solo, choreographed by myself. Eeek! I finally got my music edited because it was about two minutes longer than I could realistically fill, so now I'm listening to it all the time and spending hours practicing. I'll do some floor work, some spins, and of course, be balancing George on my head, shoulder, and hip. He has better behave! The photo is a rehearsal shot. :)

Musical Intoxicants as complied by the Indigo

2006-12-21T15:11:00.000-05:00

Ummmmmmmmmmmm--Tarkan!

2006-10-31T00:26:00.000-05:00

Via: VideoSift

Tarkan is a smouldering Turkish pop star and my newest musical discovery. The man can eat crackers in my bed any day of the week! In this video he is singing an aoplogy to his beloved over an un-named offense, saying that he is down on his knees hoping for her forgiveness. The actual lyrics are very beautiful, and I love his passionate dancing.

Diwali

2006-10-25T23:30:00.000-05:00

Diwali is a major holiday in India, both for Hindus and Sikhs although for different reasons. Its a festival of lights and a time of great joy. The day of my first public dance performance (I was a ball of nerves but had a marvelous time), I stopped at our local Indian restaurant post dance for some dinner. I was in full costume and stage makeup and looked for all the world like a very buxom drag queen, but the owner was excited because she wanted to hire a bellydancer for the upcoming Diwali festivities. Neither my dance skills nor my stage presence were up to the challenge of two hours of solo dancing so I deferred to my instructor and troupe leader. The entire troupe was hired and we had all of 6 days to throw together a two hour show. Not only did we throw it togther, it came together very well, and we were literally showered with tip money which was a very cool expresson of appreciation for our dancing. The zagarheets were a delight as well, and I was very happy to have my solo dances so well recieved. I'm still practicing daily, but now instead of dreading troupe and solo performances, I'm very much looking forward to them, and feel more confident in my choreographing adventures. I'm even working on my own sword dance with George, my scimitar (introduced below).

Introducing George

2006-10-17T02:43:00.001-05:00

There is a new man in my life, and he likes to ride me throughout the day. He usually gives me a headache, yet he also inspires me to improve my grace and balance. His name is George, and while he can be be quite tempermental at times(he has been known to leave an egg on my head), he is so beautiful that I forgive him immediately. George is my new scimitar and dance partner. He has a domestic side, and while we have been getting to know each other, he likes to "help" me wash the dishes. I think he just wants to be sure they are as shiny as he is.

Meet George:Miko

I have been deflowered

2006-10-15T00:40:00.000-05:00

I am no longer amongst the bellydance performance virgins. Last Saturday after weeks of practice, and fear of totally blowing the performance, I danced in public for the first time. I danced with my troupe which was certainly much easier than dancing solo, but as I was in the front row AND the most zaftig of the six of us, I still felt like any flubs I made would jump out at the audience like sparks from a July 4th sparkler. Yes, I did make a couple of flubs--I was a second or two late with two transitions, but I caught them before the audience noticed and jumped right back into the choreography with nary a panicked trace across my brow. My daughter noticed of course, but she's been to every class and rehearsal as a fly on the wall, so she has a bit of an advantage.

How was it? Nervewracking and completely awesome! The audience loved the dance, and it was great fun, and although I don't recall hearing the applause, my daughter assured me that we had very loud applause with zaghareets galore. Backstage, we jumped around hugging each other, thrilled to have made it through the dance, and to a woman, we all wanted to go back onstage again and do it even better. Despite the excitement, it still took nearly 10 minutes for my hands to stop visibly trembling. *lol* I can't wait to do it again!

As it turns out, our performance wishes were granted and sooner than we would have guessed. We have been hired to perform for two hours at a festival held in the local Indian restaurant. The date? Oh, just the very next Saturday, less than a week away. Now we are scrambling to finish the choreography on several more songs and we will be thrown headlong into the world of improv dance, much sooner than we would ever have guessed. We will each be dancing up to tables and treating each table to a personalized mini bellydance for a minute or two. Qamar (my dance name) had better bust our her best and most confident moves! It'll be very frightening, challenging, and a lot of fun.

Treadmill Kitty!

2006-10-09T08:43:00.000-05:00

Via: VideoSift

This is just too adorable, and the cat seems to love the treadmill for its own sake. All my cat ever did was sleep on mine.

I want to dance like Rachel

2006-10-04T02:47:00.000-05:00

Via: VideoSift

Me and countless others...I fell in love with dance form, but Ms. Brice takes it from sublime to breathtaking, and nigh unto a religious experience. I have one of her drill and isolation DVDs, and its the shortest and most enjoyable 45 minute workout I've ever had! As a plus, her instruction is excellent and almost immediately improved my undulations and body rolls. Enjoy the clip and the awesome Bassnectar song!

Nath is where its at...

2006-09-26T01:39:00.000-05:00

A nath is a traditional, and often very elaborate, bit of jewelry that is worn in India, and goes from the pierced nose of a woman to her hair. It is usually part of the wedding jewelry that is given to a new bride by her soon to be in-laws, and is part of a very elaborate set. I decided I liked the look, and wanted one of my own, but without the large ornate disc hanging from the side of the nostril. I also wanted silver as opposed to gold, since I very much prefer silver. Here is the result of my efforts:

I like it! The danglies are little swarovski crystals and they catch the light in the THE most delightful way. I'm going to wear it at my debut dance performance.

Oasis Middle Eastern Dance

2006-09-26T01:37:00.000-05:00

My dance instructor, Layla, has decided to form a troupe: Oasis Middle Eastern Dance. I'm completely delighted that she's asked me to join and feels confident enough in my dance skills that I can master the choreographies and perform publicly. I have come a long way in a short time, but I have loads to learn yet, and my isolations could always use improvement. To that end, I have ordered a scimitar and am practicing dancing with a silver tea tray on my head, since it forces you to have good isolation between upper and lower body. In the spring I'll dance a sword dance to show my balancing skills. At this point, if I take it slow, I can actually get down to the floor with the tray still balanced on my head (bareheaded, without anything to help keep the thing up there), and I can get part of the way back up, but as of yet, I can not make it all the way up without a flash of silver leaping towards the floor. The tray is loud, but once the scimitar arrives, I'll have even more incentive to keep it balanced, since despite being unsharpened, it can still inflict a good bite if it hits a foot or something on the way down!

At any rate, we have our first troupe performance (and my first public performance ever) fast approaching. October 14th we will be performing at a hafla in Montpelier, and I'm incredibly worried about not having the choreography memorized adequately. I have parts of it down, and it is coming along nicely, but there are a couple of parts I always forget or completely screw up. I'm going to try and schedule some extra practice sessions in addition to regular troupe practice in order to help firm it up.

I'm having a blast with costuming, and have just finished my first ever dance bra. The photo is poor in quality, but it'll at least give you an idea of the finished bra. Every stitch, bead, and coin were put in by hand, and there are 100 coins on there. The top border on the cups is all hand beaded in silver and dark grey. It has fabulous support, and I could do a cartwheel or handstand in the thing, and still stay well secured, which is exactly what I want out of a dance bra. *grin* The next photo is of me practicing a layback--I can *almost* reach 90 degrees now, and I'm very pleased that all the bellyroll practice sessions have given me enough core strength that I can come back up easily.

Finally, to be professional, dancers should have a good cover-up to wear between performances. This is respectful of other dancers, since your wandering about in your dance costume would understandably distract the audience from their performance. I took a silk sari and sewed myself a Khaleegi Thobe to use as a cover-up. As soon as I get the opportunity, I will take a Khaleegi workshop to learn that specific type of dance (its a Saudi women's dance, notable for the HUGE and elaborately decorated dresses which are manipulated during the dance, and also for the tossing about of the dancer's hair.) I still have to embellish mine with all sorts of fun glittery stuff, but even naked, its a beautiful garment. I'm going to make more to sell, as they are very well received.

Take a look-see:

Why can't I own Canadians?

2006-09-10T00:48:00.000-05:00

Dr. Laura Schlessinger is a radio personality who dispenses advice to people who call in to her radio show. Recently, she said that, as an observant Orthodox Jew, homosexuality is an abomination according to Leviticus 18:22 and cannot be condoned under any circumstance. The following is an open letter to Dr. Laura penned by an East coast resident:

Dear Dr. Laura:

Thank you for doing so much to educate people regarding God's Law. I have learned a great deal from your show, and try to share that knowledge with as many people as I can. When someone tries to defend the homosexual lifestyle, for example, I simply remind them that Leviticus 18:22 clearly states it to be an abomination. End of debate.

I do need some advice from you, however, regarding some of the other specific Bible laws and how to follow them:

When I burn a bull on the altar as a sacrifice, I know it creates a pleasing odor for the Lord - Lev.1:9. The problem is my neighbors. They claim the odor is not pleasing to them. Should I smite them?

I would like to sell my daughter into slavery, as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7. In this day and age, what do you think would be a fair price for her?

I know that I am allowed no contact with a woman while she is in her period of menstrual uncleanliness - Lev.15:19- 24. The problem is, how do I tell? I have tried asking, but most women take offense.

Lev. 25:44 states that I may indeed possess slaves, both male and female, provided they are purchased from neighboring nations. A friend of mine claims that this applies to Mexicans, but not Canadians. Can you clarify? Why can't I own Canadians?

I have a neighbor who insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus 35:2 clearly states he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself?

A friend of mine feels that even though eating shellfish is an abomination - Lev. 11:10, it is a lesser abomination than
homosexuality. I don't agree. Can you settle this?

Lev. 21:20 states that I may not approach the altar of God if I have a defect in my sight. I have to admit that I wear reading glasses. Does my vision have to be 20/20, or is there some wiggle room here?

Most of my male friends get their hair trimmed, including the hair around their temples, even though this is expressly forbidden by Lev. 19:27. How should they die?

I know from Lev. 11:6-8 that touching the skin of a dead pig makes me unclean, but may I still play football if I wear gloves?

My uncle has a farm. He violates Lev. 19:19 by planting two different crops in the same field, as does his wife by wearing garments made of two different kinds of thread (cotton/polyester blend). He also tends to curse and blaspheme a lot. Is it really necessary that we go to all the trouble of getting the whole town together to stone them?
Lev.24:10-16. Couldn't we just burn them to death at a private family affair like we do with people who sleep with their in-laws? (Lev. 20:14)

I know you have studied these things extensively, so I am confident you can help. Thank you again for reminding us that God's word is eternal and unchanging.

Your devoted fan,

Jim

The road to banding

2006-09-05T01:00:00.000-05:00

I have had a major obstacle crop up on the pathway to the lap band: the only surgeon at Dartmouth who does banding quit abruptly to go to New York and head a bariatric surgical programme there. Given that I am a good 80% of the way through the process at Dartmouth, this is a major bummer, since I obviously can't have surgery if there is no surgeon. I am in the process of transferring to a surgeon up in Burlington, and meeting all of THEIR requirements, since I have to start from scratch in that programme, and have kept up at Dartmouth in case they suddenly get a replacement band surgeon.

Meanwhile, all the bellydancing is paying off, as I am now down to 206 pounds, a mere two pounds away from the minimum pre-op requirement. Of course I won't stop there--I'm 82 pounds away from my goal weight! Its a nice drop from the 227 I was two years ago, and its rather fun to occasionally have people who haven't seen me in a while notice the change. I have nearly two inches of extra space in my waistbands now, and I'm pretty happy with that.

This is one sweet little animation

2006-08-10T01:04:00.000-05:00

Via: VideoSift

The artist is Emilie Simon--I love the emotion she lends to the song, and the animation complements the music delightfully.

2006-07-11T18:03:00.000-05:00

Would you take Belly Dance Classes from this man?
You can you know, and he RAQS!

If you don't believe me, check out his dancing for yourself by clicking on the blue text below his photo. I plan on taking classes with him this October when he is on the the East coast. Humour, modesty, a kickass stage presence, and a killer shimmy, plus he's an amazing person to boot--what more could you want? BTW, if you do want to learn how to put some serious shimmy in your shake, his URL is www.jimboz.com

Riding the lap-band rollercoaster

2006-06-17T20:17:00.000-05:00

Thus far I've had my initial information seminar, registered for the
program at Dartmouth Hitchcock in NH, had my comprehensive physical
and had every blood test under the sun except perhaps the PSA test for
the prostate I don't have. *grin* I'm scheduled for a barrage of other
tests, and just have to schedule my two psych evals to complete my
laundry list of to-do's before I can start the required education
seminars.

At my initial seminar, the Insurance Lady told us that Blue Cross
Blue Shield of VT covered bariatric surgery as a guaranteed benefit,
so I should be golden as far as coverage for this was concerned.
Wheeee....up goes the rollercoaster.

I thought I was ducky, so scheduled all of the pre-op testing the
program requires and happily sat in my rollercoaster buggy, feeling
the slow lurching up and forwards on the path I want so very much.
Upon checking my email at work, I find we are changing insurance
companies in October, so I'll then have MVP. The buggy pauses at the
top...

A call is placed to the Insurance Lady, and I left a message
explaining the details and inquiring about MVP coverage for the lap
band. Now its a waiting game, as I work nights and for some odd
reason, the Insurance woman isn't in her office at 3 am. *grin* Go figure.

When she returned my call the next morning, she told me that Blue
Cross DOES cover bariatric surgery, but they won't cover the lap band
since they deem it experimental, this despite FDA approval. She isn't
sure about MVP, but she's left messages with the MVP programme nurse.
EEEeeee...the buggy plummets wildly towards the ground, and my head is
filled with questions, foremost amongst which is "OK,so which of my
children do I sell so I can go to Mexico for banding?" I was pretty
bummed about it since I am only interested in banding, and not the
RNY. Oh well...I'll regroup.

While at my mammogram embracing the blissfully padded steel plates
(yay for mammopads) and mentally checking off another item on my list,
my cellphone rings and its the Insurance Goddess again. It seems that
while BCBS won't cover banding, and I wouldn't be able to complete the
requirements before surgery, not to mention surgery itself, before the
October deadline, MVP does cover the lap band. The buggy whips up the
next hill...better yet, the only hoops they have are the same ones the
programme I am in requires. Hooray...no need to sell a child! The
buggy continues on up the large hill and pauses.

Its been an intense few days!

The sacrificial dupatta

2006-06-13T22:37:00.000-05:00

I finally found a choli pattern that accommodates larger sizes and was dying to try it out. The sewing bug was nibbling at my psyche and in cahoots with the beledi bug. Needless to say, little of the fabric I have was appropriate as a sacrificial lamb, since I had no idea how the pattern would turn out, and what tweaks it might require. Enter the dupatta.

This dupatta came with a lengha choli set and was elaborately decorated with mirrors, shells, metal beading--the works. The problem was that it was too elaborately decorated, and the dangles and doohickies snagged all the time. I laid the pattern out so that the ends of the dupatta, which were darker blue, would form the ends of the sleeves and have a nice gradient effect. The centre of the dupatta had a nice pattern which became the back of the choli. Bias binding? Well, the bias binding I had purchased seems to be missing, so I lopped off some of my satin shower curtain (which was too long anyhow) and turned it into custom bias binding. A few hours of sewing later and my prototype was completed. I discovered that I am not even close to requiring the largest size, and had to take it in--a lot.

The new choli was a big hit at class, and was easy to move around in--I had absolutely no problems with movement, no matter what isolations I was performing. The photo above was taken after class--if I look a bit breathless its because I was!

Here is a close-up of the choli--the best I could do without a timer on my camera. Eventually I'll line the entire top, but for now it makes a very cool dance top, since the fabric was originally a very thinly woven dupatta. I actually like the choli a whole lot more than I ever liked the dupatta.

Happy Birthday Tacincala!

2006-06-08T02:18:00.000-05:00

Nineteen years ago there was an amazing thunderstorm--a storm that lit up the sky, turning it to day in short flashes. A storm with thunderclaps that rattled the panes of the windows. It was also a storm that ushered in my amazing, brilliant, creative, and talented daughter. (I'm just a tad proud of her accomplishments, but you would never have guessed that, eh?)

Happy Birthday Tacincala! Tonight there is a steady and soothing rain, unlike the storm that escorted you into this world, and I hope it lulls you to a sound and restful sleep before the day brings you its surprises.

It seems like yesterday that I was celebrating my own 19th birthday, and here you are, a strong young woman poised to take the world by its horns, forging your own way and letting little impede your path. In the hopes that your day will be sweet, you will awake in a few hours to a freshly baked tray of baklava...I hope you enjoy it before you head off to work. I love you my dear and hope your fondest wishes come true. Yes, its a sticky-sweet sentiment...suck it up and have a marvelous day!

Look what the Kat got dragged out in...

2006-06-07T22:17:00.000-05:00

Tonight I was practicing a routine for an upcoming hafla in October (I need a LOT of work), and the phone rang--my daughter had gotten the car stuck on a concrete curb at a closed gas station. It was minutes before the car was needed to get Rajeshwar to work, since she had borrowed it today, and out I went, dressed in this outfit. It is a lengha topped with a duppata I had bought some time ago, but have been unable to wear as it was made too small. After a costume disaster with the purple skirt when I made and dance tested that, I always test out any new conglomeration I put together before wearing it out in public. (Thankfully I dance tested my purple skirt before wearing it to class. It originally had a drawstring waist, but no matter how tightly it was tied, one good shimmy shook it right to the ground. A few minutes with the sewing maching that accquainted the skirt with some bad-ass inch wide elastic and I was shimmy, shake, and hip roll proof.)

At any rate, out I went in this with a shawl to cover me up somewhat and keep me dry as its raining out--I was fairly well covered up, but there was no covering up the jingling of my hip scarf with every step. It made for a few interesting looks from other folks out walking tonight! *lol*

At any rate, the car was safely removed from the curbing with the aide of a jack, my daughter made it home in one piece, Rajeshwar made it to work within 5 minutes of being on time, and my costume sucessfully survived the activity. I think I might just use some of the duppata for fabric and alter the choli so it fits however--it will be much more comfortable for dance purposes.

Lap-Banding

2006-06-04T03:54:00.000-05:00

For years now I have wanted to have baritric surgery, specifically, the lap-band. For those of you unfamiliar with the lap-band, it is essentially a hollow silicone tube that encircles the stomach, with a port coming off of it that is implanted in the patient's side. It works by physically restricting the upper portion of the stomach, acting like the old stomach stapling surgery but with some notable benefits. Stomach stapling worked well, but it was a permanent change to the digestive tract, and was not customizable in the event of too slow or too rapid a rate of weight loss. In contrast, the lap band is placed laprascopically rather than in open surgery, and the amount of restriction is easily adjusted by changing the amount of saline injected into the band through the port. It does not reroute your plumbing or create any permanent changes to your digestive tract, and can be removed if need be (not that I would ever want it removed.) There are risks, including infection, band slippage, band erosion into the stomach, and overconstriction leaving you unable to ingest anything, but new placement techniques help minimize these risks.

At any rate, I discovered the lap band years ago before it was FDA approved, and have been researching it and its success and complication rates ever since. I finally have decent health insurance (I certainly pay enough for it!), and my company actually covers bariatric surgery across the board, considering it preventative care, as it avoids very expensive care for chronic health problems caused by obesity. I spoke with my physician about having the lap band and he was open to giving me a referral, although he was minimally familiar with the lap band. To date he has had patients have gastric bypass surgery, but none having gastric banding.

My initial meeting with the bariatric surgery folks over at Dartmouth was last week and I came away with a long check list of things I'll need to have completed before I can have surgery. Next week I have the comprehensive physical and will have a full set of labs drawn. After that will come a gallbladder ultrasound, two psych evals, a diet history, and a slew of classes over at Dartmouth. Once all of that is completed I'll meet with the surgeon, and an operative date will be scheduled. The approximate time frame will depend upon how long it takes to complete all the tasks on the checklist, but could be anywhere from 7 months to a year away.

I'm pretty excited about finally being able to have this surgery--my problem has not been the types of food I eat, but more the quantity of food and feeling hungry often. The lap band will help by reducing the capacity of my stomach, allowing me to feel full on a very small amount of food. Exercise and proper nutrition are still going to be crucial in the weight loss process, but with the assistance of the band I should be able to get this weight off and maintain the loss. I could care less about what size I wear--I want the weight off so I can avoid diabetes, coronary artery disease, not require hip and knee replacements, improve my asthma...in short, have a healthy life and a good quality of life well into old age. I'm almost 40 now, and if I want to have another 60 years or so more, I need to get back into shape. Hitting 40 doesn't bother me, but dying early from preventable disease DOES bother me quite a bit.

Beledi

2006-06-01T00:00:00.000-05:00

Nearly thirty years ago my mother taught me beledi dance, also known as raks sharqi, or more commonly, belly dance. I loved it, but as the years passed, I got involved in other things and dance fell by the wayside. For the last couple of years, the beledi bug has been back, but there were no local instructors, so I was limited to whatever vestiges of dance I could recall from so many years ago. Fortunately for me, an instructor moved into the area and I've been happily dancing ever since.

I'm still quite rusty, but some moves are coming back quite easily. My shimmy is quite intact, and hip circles, lifts and drops are coming quite naturally despite the thirty year hiatus. Rib cage isolations are practiced while driving--well, not while actually driving, as I'm a sure an auto accident would quickly ensue, but while sitting at traffic lights. It works nicely because my hips are firmly anchored and my rib cage is forced to move independently.

I've also gotten bolder at class, and have graduated from completely covered up to wearing a simple practice costume that bares my midriff. Yes, my 200+ pound self in a midriff baring
costume. Its bloody HOT in class once we get moving, and its easier to see the movements to see if I am performing them correctly with an exposed midriff. I adore my coin scarf--the jingle is not only fun, but helps improve your shimmy immensely.

Now for the photos: if you are squeamish about 200 pounds in a dance costume, then simply use your back button and resume looking at the last page you browsed. *grin*

Here we have my shimmy in action...the shot is blurry due to the motion, but I like the overall effect.

Practicing in the kitchen...

You know, I may be zaftig, but I don't look too bad in my practice outfit, and it should get better and better as I get into shape. Belly rolls and ribcage isolations work the entire set of abdominal muscles quite thoroughly, and I'm already starting to see a small difference.

Its a good thing I left the kitchen open and didn't clutter it up with furniture--now I have a great wide open practice area!

The Evil Sock of Doom

2006-04-28T21:57:00.000-05:00

I have a pair of "kiss my ass" Happy Bunny socks that I love. They were purchased to wear on those stressed to above the eyeballs overtired crabby-ass bitch on wheels days. Well, I wore them work on one of those days and had the shift from hell. Admissions all night, people crashing, confused patients crawling out of bed all night--the works. OK, so it was a bad night.

A few weeks later I wear them again because I do think they are terribly cute, and the same type of night occurs. The six times I wore them to work were each crazed, hectic stress filled nights, so I decided it was the socks. Yes, I know its not REALLY the socks, but its fun to have a scapegoat--makes the night a little more palatable.

Last night I thought I would thwart the cure of the socks and only wear one happy bunny sock. I paired the lone Happy Bunny sock with a brightly coloured orange-yellow sock with bright pink flowers covering the entire sock. The socks were complemented with black scrub pants, a black scrub top printed with brightly coloured psychedelically painted VW Beetles, and emerald green clogs. Well, the power of the sock being what it is, the night rapidly went to hell in a handbasket, with people on the call bell every 3.5 seconds, a veritable c-dif poop-fest in every other room, and an alcohol detox case that was a royal pain. We only had one aide (floated down from another floor and we were VERY glad to have her) and plenty of total care patients. The fun and happily stress relieving part of the night came when I told my co-workers about the evil socks of doom, aka the kiss my ass bunny socks pictured above. The lone sock was promptly dubbed "The Evil Sock of Doom" . Wearing that sock when working with a certain nurse who claims she has a perpetual grey cloud over her head (in other words, she's calling herself a shit-magnet) was probably not a great idea. It was great fun to slip off my clog and "threaten" her however: "Share the med cart m'dear or I'll have to point the evil sock of doom in your general direction". (This uttered whilst slipping my foot out of my clog and pointing my toes at my grey-clouded friend.) By the time morning finally came, we were all giggling like fools while working like maniacs to finish the end of shift rush, with plenty of bantering about that "damned evil sock of doom". I'll have to try the single sock of doom experiment again--preferably when a different shit magnet nurse is on duty.

Every muscle hurts...

2006-04-20T00:20:00.000-05:00

Today it was time to inaugurate spring with a hike. I decided to hike Spruce Mountain, a fairly challenging but close to home day hike. One quick trip to Wal-Mart for a day-pack later, I headed out to the mountain. Spruce mountain is four and a half miles up the trail which makes a healthy 9 mile hike. The lower part of the trail is a nice easy hike, but as you get further up the trail it gets very rocky, at times requiring climbing up huge boulders on hands and knees. Add in the steep incline and you get a workout a hell of a lot harder than any 9 miles on a gym treadmill.

Here I am starting up the mountain--it ended up taking me two and half hours up and one and half hours down, though that last half mile up seemed to take forever. There is a beautiful open grassy clearing before it gets really steep and I enjoyed a five minute rest to keep my fatigued legs from spasming.

On the way up a small brook is bridged with a couple of logs--one had broken so it made for a narrow bridge indeed. My balance isn't as good as it used to be, so that walking stick was an essential tool. Of course, the more I hike and practice yoga, the better my balance and overall fitness level will be.

This next shot is out of order--I'm approaching the trailhead at the end of the hike. Its nine miles later and I'm completely exhausted--my body hurts from the mid-back all the way down to my toes, but it was worth it to spend an afternoon enjoying the mountain and all the peace and beauty it has to offer.

These shots are from the top of the moutain. It was a beautiful sunny day and you could see for miles and miles. The beads around my neck are called japa mala and are prayer beads. I had brought along my japa mala and some sweetgrass for incense, so I could meditate while I was atop the mountain. It is so beautiful (and rugged) up there that it is very conducive to meditation and prayer. As a matter of fact, it is on this very mountain I will be scattering my mother's ashes later this summer. She loved mountains and I think she would have loved this spot.

Now, at day's end, I am weary and very muscle sore, but deeply satisfied spiritually and emotionally. I am going to have to make a habit of hiking frequently. Once I get into shape, I would like to hike all 270 miles of the long trail. Ambitious yes, but doable, even if it is done in increments.

Oy.

2006-04-16T12:56:00.000-05:00

Its back to work tonight after a few days off. The weather has been beautiful if slightly chilly today, and I've enjoyed seeing the light of day for once. Now I'm back to a job I hate (my colleagues are fine--its administration BS that makes it such a stressful place to work) for yet another day. I would change jobs, but it looks bad on the resume, so I'm stuck for the time being. I may see if I can find a part time job somewhere else that would be more fulfilling and have a bit of satisfaction with a change of venue. If not, I'll just suck it up.

I sent away for the various documents I need to get my passport, and once they come back from the passport office I'll send them off to New York to amend my birth certificate. My work obligation to the Freeman Foundation is fulfilled as of July, so once I have my passport I'll go ahead and file my immigration application. This country is going further and further down a dangerous slope and I really want to be out of it as soon as possible. With luck in a bit over a year I'll be blogging from Nova Scotia as a landed immigrant.

Speaking of Nova Scotia...a good friend who seemed to have fallen off the face of the earth has resurfaced, and will be traveling through Vermont soon on his way back to New Brunswick and Nova Scotia--I can't wait to treat him to dinner and catch up on life. He's one of those rare friends with whom you can discuss anything and I've missed his company.

Now to grab a nap as I'll need some rest before work. I got up and went to church this morning, so I didn't sleep until my usual noon or so. I know, noon sounds lazy, but its more that as a night worker its easier on my body to stay up late until 2 or 3 am and then sleep late the next day--that way its much less jet lag than if I tried to rotate to a normal night sleep schedule on my days off.

Happy Easter!

2006-04-16T12:53:00.000-05:00

A funny waxing tale...you know, I could almost see myself making this mistake.

2006-03-23T10:44:00.000-05:00

I got this in my email from a friend with a wicked sense of humour--its so very funny that I still can't read it through without tears running down my face from laughter. I think some of the humour is because every woman could see herself getting into this predicament or at least relate to it. My own waxing experience has been limited to trying to wax my own eyebrows back in 1990 or so--it was so bloody painful that I ended up picking the clumps of cold wax off my face one little bit at a time. I just couldn't rip it off.

At any rate, enjoy the story:

My night began as any other normal weekday night. I came home from work, fixed dinner for my son and we played for a while. I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next couple hours: maybe I should use that wax in my medicine cabinet. I set up my boy with a video and head to the site of my demise, um, I mean bathroom. It was one of those cold wax kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the clear strips in your hand, peel them apart, press it on your leg (or wherever) and ignore the frantically rising crescendo of string instruments in the background. No muss, no fuss. How hard can this be? I mean, I'm not the girly-est of girls but I'm mechanically inclined so maybe I can figure out how this works. You'd think.

So I pull one of the thin strips out. It's two strips facing each other, stuck together. I'm supposed to rub it in my hand to warm and soften the wax (I'm guessing). I go one better: I pull out the hair dryer and heat the SOB to ten thousand degrees. Cold wax, my ass. (Oh, how that phrase will come back to haunt me.) I lay the strip across my thigh. I hold the skin around it and pull. OK, so it wasn't the best feeling in the world, but it wasn't bad. I can do this! Hair removal no longer eludes me! I am Sheera, fighter of all wayward body hair and smooth skin extraordinaire!

With my next wax strip, I move north. After checking on the boy and verifying that he was, in fact, becoming one with Bear and learning all about smells, I sneak into the bathroom for The Ultimate Hair Fighting Championship. I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet. Using the same procedure, I then apply the wax strip across the right side on my bikini line, covering the right half of Ginny and stretching up into the inside of the right butt cheek. (Yeah, it was a long strip.) I inhale deeply. I brace myself. RRRIIIIPPP!!!!

I'm blind! Blind from the pain! Vision returning.

Oh crap. I've managed to pull off half an inch of the strip. Another deep breath. And RIIIP! Everything is swirly and tie-dyed? Do I hear crashing drums? OK, coming back to normal again. I want to see my trophy - my wax covered pelt that caused me so much agony. I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold the wax strip like an Olympic gold medallist. But why is there no hair on it? Why is the wax mostly gone? Where could the wax go, if not on the strip? Slowly, I eased my head down, my foot still perched on the toilet. I see hair - the hair that should be on the strip. I touch. I feel. I am touching wax. I look to the ceiling and silently shout "nooooooo!!" And realize I have just begun living my own personal version of "The Tar Baby." I peel my fingers off the softest, most sensitive part of my body that is now covered in cold wax and matted hair, and make the next big mistake - up until this point, you'll remember, I've had my foot on the toilet. I know I need to move, to do something. So I put my foot down on the floor.

And then I hear the slamming of the cell door. Ginny? Sealed shut. Butt? Sealed shut.

A little voice in my head says "I hope you don't have to shit anytime soon. Your head just might pop off." I penguin walk around the bathroom trying desperately to figure out what I should do next. Hot water! Hot water melts wax! I'll run the hottest water I can stand and get in - the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it away, right?

Wrong. I get in the tub - the water is slightly hotter than is used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment. And I sit. Now the only thing worse than having your goodies glued together is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of a tub. In scalding hot water. Which, by the way, does not melt the cold wax. So now I'm stuck to the tub. I call my friend, C, because she once dropped out of beauty school so surely she has some secret knowledge or trick to get wax off skin. It's never good to start a conversation with "So, Ginny and my butt are stuck to the tub..." She doesn't have a trick. She does her best to suppress laughter. She wants to know exactly where the wax is on the butt - "Are we talking cheek or hole, here?" she asks. She isn't even trying to hide the giggles now. I give her the run-down of the entire night. She tells me to call the number on the side of the box, but to have a good cover story for where the wax actually is. "You know that if we were working the help line at XX Wax Co. and somebody called with their entire crack sealed shut we'd just put them on hold then record the conversation for everyone we know. You're going to end up on a radio show or the internet if you tell them the truth.

"While we go through various solutions, I have resorted to scraping the wax off with a razor. Boy, nothing feels better to the girly goodies than covering them in wax, sticking them to a tub in super hot water and THEN dry shaving the sticky wax off! In the middle of the conversation (which has inexplicably turned to other subjects!) I find the little, beautiful saving grace that is the lotion provided with wax to remove the excess. I rub some in and start screaming "It's working! It's working!" I get hearty congratulations from C and we hang up.

I successfully remove all the wax and notice, to my dismay, that the hair is still there. So I shaved the damned stuff off. Hell, I was numb by that point anyway. And then I put the box of wax back in my medicine cabinet.

Never know when a moustache might start to come in. Tomorrow, I attempt dye.

And by the way...

2006-03-21T19:57:00.000-05:00

it can stop snowing and warm up any time now please...
I know March comes in like a lion, but I want the lamb! Spring needs to go ahead and spring already.

Are three cop cars enough?

2006-03-21T19:48:00.000-05:00

Sirens and blue lights right outside my apartment--curious, I take a peek. OK, so I'm nosy. At any rate, outside are three cop cars, lights flashing stridently. What was the cause of all this display? Two teenaged boys, possibly one of them Latino, although its hard to tell in the dark. The boys are dressed in the de rigeur teen uniform of T-shirt 4 sizes too big, jeans so baggy that the crotch is down by the knees, oversized baggy jacket, and wide white headbands. Perhaps its the fashion police?

The boys don't appear to be offering any resistance--they are just standing there, hands uncuffed, and are certainly making no attempt to escape. Why the need for massive police display? Perhaps its just a case of bored small town cops looking for something to do on a Tuesday night, but I would think a single car with its two officers should be able to handle whatever the job was.

At last--its hitting the mainstream media--common sense

2006-03-17T16:03:00.000-05:00

From the Martian Anthropologist Blog: 'Impeach Bush' Reaches the Mainstream I've been waiting for this day for a while. Impeachment is no longer a word only used by "radical left-wing liberals". Heh. Among others, The Wall Street Journal and The Washington Post are writing about it: From The Washington Post:

...Because, damn -- this impeachment stuff is really getting around. It's all over the blogosphere. It's the cover story in the current Harper's. The San Francisco Board of Supervisors has passed an impeachment resolution. Antiwar activists, civil libertarians, all the usual-suspect constituencies have growing impeachment tendencies. But it's reaching beyond the usual suspects, as I discovered last month when I appeared on a media panel before the national legislative conference of a major union. Local activists from across the nation spent an hour asking us questions, and one out of every three queries, it seemed to me, boiled down to, "How can we impeach this guy?"

From the Toronto Star:

Lewis Lapham, the outgoing editor of Harper's magazine and one of the country's most outspoken Bush critics, makes the case for impeachment in the March issue of his magazine. It includes this indictment:"We have before us in the White House a thief who steals the country's good name and reputation for his private interest and personal use; a liar who seeks to instill in the American people a state of fear; a televangelist who engages the United States in a never-ending crusade against all the world's evil; a wastrel who squanders a vast sum of the nation's wealth on what turns out to be a recruiting drive certain to multiply the host of our enemies. "In a word, a criminal -- known to be armed and shown to be dangerous."

From the Wall Street Journal:

If Democratic candidate Tony Trupiano wins a Michigan House seat this fall, he pledges that one of his first acts will be to introduce articles of impeachment against President Bush. That has earned Mr. Trupiano the endorsement of ImpeachPAC, a group of Democratic activists seeking to remove Mr. Bush from office. ImpeachPAC's Web site lists 14 candidates offering similar commitments, which are reminiscent of the Republican drive to oust former President Bill Clinton after the Monica Lewinsky scandal.

So: All of you out there that love America, but are getting tired an American President trashing the freedoms that so many of our countrymen have fought and died for, take heart. The criminal is on his way out. Originally written on the Martian Anthropologist Blog.

Too cute.

2006-03-17T15:50:00.000-05:00

Thanks to Edith, from whom I horked this very funny little cartoon.

Happy Saint Patrick's day!

2006-03-17T15:32:00.000-05:00

Its Saint Paddy's day--my high school friend Audrey turns 39 today. Double cause to wear a bit of green and celebrate. I'm going to celebrate with the obligatory green beer and for right now, a walk in the sun. Its a bit cool outside, but the sun is simply beautiful.

Fatigue and burnout

2006-03-16T22:08:00.001-05:00

I am soooooooooooo tired and work keeps calling to see if I will work extra time. Time and a half is very nice but I'm absolutely exhausted and just need some time for myself--time to sleep at night so that I can actually enjoy sunlight and daytime alertness like a normal person. I also want time to take some nice long walks and get some exercise. In short, I need some time to care for myself so I don't burn out. Most days lately I feel like a gerbil running on a wheel. I keep running but the scenery never changes.

I think its time for an extended bubblebath with candles, incense, and perhaps a nice chick-flick on the laptop.

Sweet sweet on-call status

2006-03-12T21:07:00.000-05:00

Earlier today I was pretty thrilled to get called off for the first 4 hours of my shift. It meant that I got to go in to start my shift at 11 pm instead of 6:30pm. Well, they just called again and now I'm placed on call which essentially means I get paid call pay to stay home. If they get busy they can call me in at any time, but that's not a problem since I live 10 minutes from the hospital. Its all the better for me because it means I can get some rest and not worry about possibly spreading the augue at work. I'm still feverish on and off and coughing up a lung, so the extra time at home will get me that much further out from the contagious phase of whatever this is. Cool beans, man.

Mendhi

2006-03-12T20:33:00.000-05:00

As a very special treat to celebrate the birthday-fest that is March, the fact that I am again losing weight, and because I've been running a high fever for the last three day (mendhi very cooling), I did mendhi on my feet. Its the first time I've done it, and it was a bit tricky to do on my own feet, but overall I'm quite pleased with the effect.

For those of you unfamiliar with mendhi, it is essentially a temporary tattooing of the skin with henna paste. The henna powder is mixed with tea, lemon juice, sugar and essential oil (I used eucalyptus) into a paste. After two or three hours when the paste has matured, you put it into a cone or bottle tipped with a fine metal tip and draw patterns on your skin. For the best colour, leave the henna in place for 6-7 hours. I remoistened mine with more eucaplytus oil and then wrapped my feet loosely in cotton to protect the henna from being rubbed off while I slept. In the morning I used a butter knife to scrape the dried henna from my skin and the photo's above are the result. It will last anywhere from 1-3 weeks as long as you don't rub the bejeezus out of your skin when drying off after bathing. It was actually a lot of fun and I think I'm going to order more henna powder and have a mendhi party with my girlfriends....Dori, Carol, get your tuchuses up here for that slumber party!

Happy Birthday Nashoba!

2006-03-12T19:08:00.000-05:00

Seventeen years ago today I gave birth to a nine pound strapping baby boy. He was without a name for two days as we had some difficulty settling on a name, but then his older sister started to call him "Sha-pu" which was similar to the name of our cat Shabu. It actually sounded pretty good, but since we did not want to name him after the family cat, we went with Nashoba, which means wolf in Ojibwa. It suited him as he was a very strong healthy baby and it continues to suit him well today as a strong healthy tall young man. Its still rather hard to believe that the 21 inch long baby has become a six foot one inch tall young man--it seems like just yesterday he fit on one forearm. At any rate, Nashoba, I wish you an incredibly happy birthday and many many more to come.

Hippo, birdie, two ewes

2006-03-11T02:58:00.000-05:00

Its that time again--birthday season! As of the 6th I'm now 39...the next birthday is the biggie. I'm actually looking forward to my 40's, but I'm hoping I can be a LOT closer to my goal weight by then. I'm also rather hoping I can celebrate my next birthday in Canada, but I'll just have to see what life will bring. As it is, I'm in much better shape than I was a year ago, physically, financially, and emotionally. There is plenty of room for additional improvement, but I now have a beauuuuuuuutiful new home, someone to share my life with for now and possibly for a lifetime, a more reliable car, and I'm toasty warm all the time. I even have satellite television, so get to enjoy all the documentaries my little heart desires, as well as Bollywood flicks on the Indian channels, should I chose to watch them.

The next birthday coming up in Nashoba's. Nashoba is turning 17...it seems like just barely yesterday that he was a newborn in my arms, and now he's a very tall young man sporting sideburns and at times, a scraggly beard, plus some VERY large earrings in his gauged ear-holes. I'll have to see if I can scrape up enough extra money to cover his fantasy gift. :)

I just got the application for my own first ever passport. I just need it to hand it over to the Canadian government with my immigration application, but its one step closer to my big relocation. *grin* Now the kids just have to decide where they are with respect to the move--do they want to stay here, or head north with me. I'll support them in whatever choice they end up making.

Its David Bowie time...

2006-03-05T01:55:00.000-05:00

Or, time for ch-ch-ch-changes...

After an extended hiatus from working out which I justified by saying I was getting lots of exercise moving heavy furniture, I'm back into a modest workout again. I've been doing yoga and some ab work on the yoga ball--I'm paying closer attention to what I eat again, and have been trying very hard to educate Rajeshwar in the niceties of low fat cooking. When that fails, I just wait for him to step outside and then dump 3/4 of the oil out of whatever it is he has been cooking. He can eat all the ghee he wants at 6'1" and 130 lbs, but I cannot. I've regained some of my hard lost weight and am not particularly happy about it. I've been much too lax lately. Yes, I've been under a LOT of stress, and work has been particularly stressful as of late, but I'll handle the stress a lot better if I'm taking care of myself. Its almost my birthday, and at the one year mark I am down 27 pounds from my all time high. Thats great, but a bummer since I was down 45 pounds a few months ago. *sigh* It may not all be regaining actually, since my old scale was horribly inaccurate and I bought a new one that added 15 pounds instantly, however there is no getting past the fact that I've backslid.

Weebles, my youngest, has been a royal pain in the tuchus in the mornings because she won't drag herself out of bed in the morning for school, and did not believe me when I told her she would get tossed out of her classes for lack of attendance. It doesn't matter if she had all A's, if you miss too many classes, they boot you out and give you all F's. That's REALLY going to kill her GPA. Its not that she dislikes school--she just dislikes getting up in the morning, and I'm mighty tired of it being a four or five hour battle to get her to school. She's 15 and needs to take responsibility for her actions. At any rate, thanks to the schools foolish policy, she is now out of school until April 6th, so I'm shipping her off to work on her father's farm. She's not getting rewarded with all that free time to watch MTV and play video games--she'll be getting up at the ass-crack of dawn to do farm chores and she'll be in bed by 9 pm. If nothing else it will re-set her internal clock.

Speaking of inane policies, it makes zero sense to me to suspend kids with poor attendance for the rest of whatever semester it is...if they don't want to attend school, why the hell do you want to reward them for poor attendance by telling them they aren't allowed in school for 6 weeks? That's like throwing Brer Rabbit in the Briar patch! An in-school suspension would be MUCH more effective. Make them sit in a room all day every day for the rest of the semester--they either do school work or stare at the walls for the 8 hours. Much more unpleasant and much more of a deterrent for future attendance issues.

Simple pleasures

2006-01-14T02:42:00.000-05:00

I have moments of peace these days, and even spontaneous outbursts of senseless mirth--life goes on, though I have to admit, I sometimes feel guilty after them. I don't so much miss the very difficult and ill woman my mother was at the end, as the dream of what might have been had she not suffered so from mental illness. I'm glad she didn't suffer at the end, and I'm actually relieved that I no longer have to make difficult decisions for her, but a part of me wishes I could have had time with her as a healthy woman, free from the ravages of schizophrenia. Its a fantasy of course, but it would have been nice to have someone actually mother me instead of my always being the responsible one. As long as she was alive, there was the hope that she would stay on her medications and return to a semblance of normalcy, where we could have a fairly normal relationship, but now I have to let go of that hope.

I'm moving on, and I have to say that while I am very bitter at Mass General for their (lack of) end of life care for my brother and myself as the family, I do feel much more at peace having finally bathed and dressed her. She's off on her journey to her next life with dignity. It was a difficult thing to do, but I'm really glad I did it myself because it gave me the chance to say the prayers I needed to and for her. In the interests of moving on, I've been making an effort to get out more, to spend time with friends instead of just rattling around at home by myself or with my daughter. Last week I went to the monthly potluck/ church social at the Unitarian Church--it was the same night I got back from caring for my mother, and it was the perfect thing to draw me out of the somber mood that had swallowed me up all day. We had dinner, chatted with each other, sang some rounds, and danced--a celebration of light and life, perfect after the intense immersion of the day in death.

Today I spent the day cleaning and cooking in preparation for the first dinner party I've had since moving to our new place. I was a little nervous that my guests would back out at the last minute, since the housewarming I had planned flopped so horribly. (I had invited people, cleaned, cooked, and set out a beautiful buffet, only to have not even one person show up. I finally put things away at 10 pm and went and rented a movie, but I was terribly disappointed.) To my relief, they showed up--fashionably late as it the norm for "Indian Standard Time", but they showed. For those of you who aren't familiar with Indian time, there are two versions of it: Indian Standard Time, typically an hour late, is invariably kept by Indians from India. Yes, it is a sweeping generalization, but it seems to hold true with most of my Indian friends, at least when it comes to social engagements. Indian time, kept by many American Indians, is even more fluid. It translates to "it happens when it happens." This I know from having been married to one--if nothing else, it teaches you flexibility to an extreme degree.

At any rate, my friends finally arrived, and I got to serve a dinner of dolmas (stuffed grape leaves), salad with my homemade paneer (Indian cheese), and wholewheat pasta with my freshly made pesto--rendolent with the bite of scads of garlic. For dessert was kheer, a rice pudding seasoned with saffron, cardamom and rosewater. I think half the fun was getting to use the good china and setting a formal table, complete with a pot of tea in the silver tea set. We had a lovely time, chatting about an eclectic mix of topics, and giggling when one of my friends decided to mix red and white wine in the same glass and chug it down--what a godawful face he made! I don't suggest you try it--its nasty. After they had left, who should show up at the door unexpectedly but the absolute sweetheart of a man I've been dating. He had left for work earlier as the dinner party was ending, and I hadn't expected to see him until tomorrow morning--it was the coolest thing to get to see him again.

Guilt or no, I have to say that some of the greatest joy right now is savouring my newfound relationship. I feel not only cared for, but cherished, and that is something I have wanted all my life, but only very rarely experienced. I do find myself putting on the brakes emotionally at times, but only because I want to be sure that this is something real growing and not simply a manifestation of my vulnerability after losing my mother, both real and wished for. Meanwhile, I'm delighted beyond belief by the little things he does, like showing up on the spur of the moment tonight. He's a good man and I'm thinking he might just be a keeper. :) Its too bad my mother never got the chance to meet him--I suspect she would have really liked him, schizophrenia or no.

Wading through funeral arrangements

2006-01-09T03:56:00.000-05:00

Two weeks later the medical examiner finally released my mother's body. Two weeks of limbo, not really knowing any details of the accident, and not being able to access her body to bathe it. I had visions of extensive decomposition by the time I was able to get to her--I can handle a lot, but if she were decomposed enough to have skin slippage, I don't think I could have handled it. I'm still quite bitter towards the hospital for refusing to let me bathe her at the time of her death--it would have given me a closure and a sense of a smoother passage for her.

At any rate, last Friday I drove to Boston to the funeral home to prepare her for cremation. I ended up having to go alone, since neither of the nurses I had asked were able to make it that day, but it was alright because I was really feeling a sense of urgency about needing to get her ready.

I arrived at noon, and after completing quite a bit of paperwork, was escorted back to the embalming room--there she was, on the embalming table. She looked pretty rough, with a largely shaved head, the huge inscision in her scalp from the neurosurgery, and all the tubes still in place, intercranial pressure monitor and all. One eye was slightly open--that was hard to take. I lit some nag champa incense, said the prayers I needed to, and steeled myself to prepare her body. While it was rough emotionally, it felt good to be finally getting the work done, knowing that she was now properly prepared for cremation. I removed the dressings, the IV, the foley, in short, most the medical devices that had been left in her body, although I left the casts in place on her legs. I bathed her from head to toe, getting her as clean as possible, using a special soap made with goat's milk and herbs. I then lotioned her with a goat's milk and honey lotion and dressed her in a sari I had made days before. When I was finished, I felt much better, and she looked significantly better. I finished with a few words to her, wishing her a safe and speedy journey, and hoping she found peace, happiness, and joy in her next incarnation. I sincerely hope she does, because she had precious little of those in this lifetime.

Now she will be cremated, and I will keep her ashes until next summer when we can climb a mountain and spread her ashes on a clear sunny day--freeing her to soar on the wind, on the breath of the goddess, in a place of peace and beauty. I think she would have liked that.

The Wheel of Life and Death

2006-01-09T03:21:00.000-05:00

Its been a rough few weeks lately. The kids went to New York for the holidays as it wasn't my year to have them, so I was working hard to fight off some alone for the holiday blues, compounded by the fact that I was quite broke from moving and had no money for gifts for them anyhow. Well, on Christmas day I recieved a phone call from Mass General Hospital informing me that my mother had been run over by a car while crossing the street in her wheelchair. She was in the ICU on a vent. The social worker placing the call had no more details than that, but the vent in and of itself meant it was very serious indeed. An hour later the neurosurgeon phoned, informing me that she had sustained bilateral leg fractures and a huge subdural hematoma. Her intercranial pressure was an astronomical 97 and if her brain hadn't yet herniated, it soon would. In short, her injuries were not survivable. My mother has not been well for years now, the result of years of self neglect secondary to schizophrenia--she's been hit by a car before, also while crossing the street, although that time she was fortunate and just injured her right leg. The news hit me hard--much harder than I expected actually.

I told the surgeon to make my mother a DNR but asked her to leave her on the vent until my brother and I could get there, at which time we would maker her comfort measures only and extubate her. Given the nature of her brain inury, extubation would result in death within minutes, since she no longer had an intact brainstem, and without that, no respiratory drive. I managed to hold it together fairly well, considering the news, but also knew I didn't want to drive to Boston alone. I intially called my friend Bhinder, and he said he could go with me, but he phoned back a few minutes later to back out as family was flying in from Toronto. A dozen calls later, I managed to get in touch with Rich, our pastor, and he and his wife agreed to make the trip with me. This ended up being a very good thing on numerous fronts.

We arrived at Mass General just before midnight on the 25th and found our way to the Neurosurgical ICU. After a fairly lengthy wait to be buzzed in (frustrating as they were expecting us), I spotted my mother's room quickly, and went in, to find my 18 year old brother sitting there all by himself. The nurse never actually told me which room was my mother's, but I somehow turned in the right direction on my own. She was propped up in the bed, vented, with a foley and what appeared to be poor urine output. Her SpO2 was good, but her blood pressure was crappy, only in the 80s/40-s despite two different pressor drips. Looking at the tombstone T's on her cardiac monitor, it looked like she was having a MI on top of everything else. She actually looked suprisingly young--like a child of 10 or so, without a single wrinkle on her face or hands. I think it was because she was no longer fighting the demons that she had battled for so many years.

Sometimes when you are in a room with a dying person, after they die you can feel their presence in the room. With my mother it was different--she was no longer there...just her body, and a body only animate because of the drugs we were pumping into it, and the vent forcing oxygen into her lungs. It was very sad, and all the more so because my brother was simply devastated--he wouldn't speak more than a word or two, though he was aware of the severity of her injuries and the fact that they were simply unsurvivable.

The nursing staff never once came into the room to see if we needed anything--never offered us tea, water, tissues, pastoral care--nothing. I sat there for an hour and a half, watching her blood pressure dip lower, and hoping it would just crash--I didn't want to feel like I was rushing my brother: "OK, I'm here now, lets pull the tube and get it over with.", but by the same token, I got the feeling he would have sat there for days if need be, and I needed to say my goodbyes and release her body from the prolongation of her suffering. I guess I felt like it was unfair to force her body to remain in a semblance of life when her spirit had already left--just a shred left behind that couldn't leave until her body was allowed to stop functioning. I left the room and tracked down the nurse myself, and finally spoke with the surgeon in person.

My brother left for the actual extubation, but I wanted to be there. Once the tube was removed, she actually died very quickly. The nurse had shut off the monitor, ostensibly so we wouldn't fixate on it, but they neglected to shut off the alarms at the nurse's station right outside, and I knew bloody well the screaming alarms were for my mother. It would have been kinder to silence those, since we knew she was dying. It was a good thing I had come with Rich and his wife, because they provided a huge amount of support for my brother and myself--support that simply would not have been there otherwise.

Once she had died, I wanted to wash her body, to cleanse her spiritually. The nurse informed me that I could not bathe her because "it is against hospital policy and besides, she's clean--I bathed her at the start of my shift." I was stunned--a huge city hospital serving multicultural populations and they were refusing to respect my spiritual practices around death? What would it have hurt? She was also missing the fact that this was not a bath for physical cleanliness, but a spiritual bath. I hadn't thought about it much before that night, but bathing her was something very important to me, and being denied that left me feeling unsettled. Its simply something I must do to ensure she is properly prepared for her journey.

A bit more of our home

2005-12-23T03:03:00.000-05:00

Sorry, but the bathroom is so small that a photo can't really do it justice--you just can't get far enough away to get a good view. The other shots show a little bit of our enormous living room. The bay windows are my favourite part of the apartment, and the entire place is bright and sunny, albiet boring with the landlord's all white decor.

Our new home

2005-12-23T02:57:00.000-05:00

Here are a few shots of the kitchen--its actually a huge kitchen with an odd little pantry/sink area off to the back. We need an island, because a table would make it claustrophobically small, but some sort of work space is a must. At the moment we use the top of the washer and dryer for counter space when cooking.

Punnies

2005-12-22T15:11:00.000-05:00

1. Two antennas met on a roof, fell in love and got married. The ceremony wasn't much, but the reception was excellent.

2. A jumper cable walks into a bar. The bartender says, "I'll serve you, but don't start anything."

3. Two peanuts walk into a bar, and one was a salted.

4. A dyslexic man walks into a bra.

5. A man walks into a bar with a slab of asphalt under his arm and says: "A beer please, and one for the road."

6. Two cannibals are eating a clown. One says to the other: "Does this taste funny to you?"

7. "Doc, I can't stop singing 'The Green, Green Grass of Home.'"
"That sounds like Tom Jones Syndrome."
"Is it common?"
"Well, It's Not Unusual."

8. Two cows are standing next to each other in a field. Daisy says to Dolly, "I was artificially inseminated this morning." "I don't believe you," says Dolly. "It's true, no bull!" exclaims Daisy.

9. An invisible man marries an invisible woman. The kids were nothing to look at either.

10. Deja Moo: The feeling that you've heard this bull before.

11. I went to buy some camouflage trousers the other day but I couldn't find any.

12. A man woke up in a hospital after a serious accident. He shouted, Doctor, doctor, I can't feel my legs!" The doctor replied, "I know you can't - I've cut off your arms!"

13. I went to a seafood disco last week...and pulled a mussel.

14. What do you call a fish with no eyes? A fsh.

15. Two fish swim into a concrete wall. The one turns to the other and says "Dam!".

16. Two Eskimos sitting in a kayak were chilly, so they lit a fire in the craft. Unsurprisingly it sank, proving once again that you can't have your kayak and heat it too.

17. A group of chess enthusiasts checked into a hotel and were standing in the lobby discussing their recent tournament victories. After about an hour, the manager came out of the office and asked them to disperse. "But why," they asked, as they moved off. "Because", he said, "I can't stand chess-nuts boasting in an open foyer."

Its freakin COLD

2005-12-13T14:11:00.000-05:00

I love my toasty new home! This morning when I left work it was -4F without windchill...it was so cold (your cue to holler "How cold was it?") that my breath in the car literally froze into eensy weensy little snowflakes. I've never seen that before. Rather cool actually.

After work this morning I went to pick up the new car from the glass shop and had a great surprise--the glass man waived the entire $100 deductible because he felt bad that we had to deal with vandals breaking all the glass in the car so soon after hitting a deer. Cool eh? Judy was going to cover that cost anyhow, but was great news anyhow, since she needs the money for her move anyhow. For those of you who don't know, Judy'd husband used the car on an overnight trip and left it at a park and ride. During the night vandals smashed the windshield and all four door windows. They didn't take anything, just smashed up the glass and that of two other cars and left. Great holiday fun right? Oh well, their car-ma will bring them bad karma eventually. The glass man, in contrast, just got a good boost up on his good karma or car-ma. *grin* The bonus in it all is that the old windshield was hazy for some reason and it wouldn't wash off, so the glass could have used replacng anyhow. Now to dig up a hood so the front end damage can be repaired....

Fat Fighter Challenges

2005-12-10T22:02:00.000-05:00

Between the many changes in my life in the last few months, and the extended phone deprived (and subsequently internet deprived) period, I haven't been able to thank folks for the absolutely lovely prizes you have sent. They are a real treat and are gracing our new home beautifully. The mirror is in the livingroom, the movie came in very handy for unwinding after long hours unpacking, and likewise the bath products are heaven sent when coupled with a gleaming new tub. Edith--I particularly love the bar soap--its the coolest stuff. I've never heard of that brand before.

We saved the fresh pineapples for our first night here, and they were much sweeter, and significantly juicier than anything available locally. I'm currently trying to root the tops for houseplants. Oh, the trophy is a real conversation starter--its definitely among my prized possessions. You all are too cool, and every single gift is delightful. Thank you all! The next challenge that runs I'll contribute maple sugar candy to the top three losers (winners in my book) even if I'm not in the challenge myself.

Speaking of challenges, I've been really bad about not going to the gym lately, rationalizing that moving is enough of a workout. I need to get my tuchus back in gear! The good news is that I held my weight steady over Halloween and Thanksgiving. Cool, eh?

The never ending day

2005-12-10T21:38:00.000-05:00

Its been a long one today. I worked last night, came home ang grabbed two hours of sleep, and then drove out to ick up my son. Mind you, I had worked the night before as well, and yesterday got very little sleep thanks to the mutant children upstairs. (I'll get back to them) After dropping off my son at the new place, it was time for a mad rush over at the old place, wading through boxes and dragging large items of furniture onto the porch. The truck my new neighbours were generous enough to share with us was only available for an hour, so it was a bit of a mad rush. At last we had navigated the furniture up and down two sets of icy stairs... I finally have my bed back, and my coffee table is no longer masquerading as an entertainment centre. Physically, I'm at the point of utter exhaustion, operating on grit alone. Emotionally I feel like a new woman--no longer living in slumlord central beneath an active drug dealership and just up the street from a crack house. I hated that place, but it was cheap (except for the heating costs), and a roof while I was in school. Now its time to actually have a real home.

Our new home is beautiful: big bright sunny rooms, new flooring throughout, heat included in the rent, bay windows in the living room, and enough bedrooms for all of us. It does have one drawback--the mutant children upstairs--but on the whole its about 500% better than the old place, and its in a better area. If there is drug trade its at least discrete and not blatantly in your face. I'm quite happy here, and feel like I'm actually nesting.

Now, why do I refer to the children upstairs as mutant? Simple--they were born with pogo sticks instead of legs, and springs in their feet. All day long they thump, bump, and gallop pell mell back and forth. It sounds like tapdancing elephant sized centipedes, or perhaps millipedes. My children were young once, and I completely understand the fact that kids make noise, however, I was always on my children to walk lightly, and did not ever let them jump around, teaching them common courtesy and the basic rules of being a decent upstairs neighbour. So far, the man upstairs seems utterly clueless, and its a real problem since the little buggers are keeping me from getting any sleep. I'm going to put a nicely written note in his mailbox, asking him to please try and keep them from jumping and running as much as possible. They have a huge fenced in backyard in which to expend the jumpy bouncy energy--there their antics would be cute. Directly above my bed they are anything but cute.

Many changes

2005-12-10T11:11:00.000-05:00

Its been a while since I've last posted, but not because of lack of motivation, simply a lack of time. Since posting I've moved to a new home (and a BEAUUUUUUUUUUUUTEEEEEEFUL one at that), started a new job, completed orientation at that job, and replaced my car. The car itself has had ups and downs, since I purchased it from my friend Judy after hitting a deer with it. My own car had a flat tire, and since I had a spare but no jack, I was using her car. Well, once I hit Bambi with it (heretofore known as Bamburger) it was time to do the right thing and purchase the car from her--its in better shape than my old one anyhow. Set of crazy experiences #2: I registered the car in my name, and insured it with comprehensive, thinking about the possibility of hitting another deer, or of a stone chip costing me the windshield. Tom, Judy's husband, used the car to drive to White River Junction, leaving it at a park and ride overnight. When he came back, some vandal had smashed the windshield and both side windows, rendering a drivable but damanged car undriveable. Ugh. Good thing I put comprehensive on it, eh?

One other fronts, for those of you who know me personally, I'm having a housewarming party on the 15th of December. Its a potluck, so bring a dish to share--Springfield folks can stay over if they like. 5 pm to whenever...please come! Dori and others at work have directions in your work email--others can call me on my cellphone.

Oh--they finally turned on the phone and the DSL at the new place, so if you call me on my cell I'll give you the new home number.

Changing gears

2005-10-14T22:11:00.000-05:00

Changing to a much more cheerful topic, I think I'll discuss the postal service. Most days Patrick, our marvelous mailman, brings bills and an assortment of junk mail. Lately he has been the bearer of a trove of small and wonderful treasures--items I'll probably recall with great fondness for many years to come. Remember a couple of months back when I posted about the Fat Fighter Challenge that some 28 of us from Nutrisystem posed for ourselves? (Actually, Edith Tapia proposed it, amazing and creative woman that she is) Well, to my utter shock and amazement, I won the challenge! I thought for sure I was haning in the middle or rear of the pack, because I had modest losses for the entire period with the exception of our vacation, and then for some bizarre reason, I dropped a ton of weight, Krispy Kreme notwithstanding. My prize, selected for its regional flair, and delectability, was moulded maple sugar candy. Its been here waiting to be mailed off to some far flung corner of the world. Well, now its being joined with all sorts of things from all over the place and getting the mail is a delight. My daughter always beats me to the mail and when I came home yesterday after three days at work, she presented me with THE cutest trophy--handmade of fimo and and a mini-hatbox, all beautifully painted. Thank you Battleangelina--you made my day! From Lisa in Illinois came a Walmart card that I'm thinking might just turn into some colourful bedlinens--thank you Lisa! My daughter lives for pineapple and is turning her eagle eye towards the mail for a fresh pineapple Amanda will be sending--I bet it puts the canned cooked Dole stuff to shame. I'm thrilled to have won the challenge but it feels very strange indeed to have such a shower of rewards for a few weeks of pushing myself to the gym some 4-5 days per week. All of the other ladies also deserve rewards no matter what the weight loss total was, because the support and camaradarie is a treat in and of itself, and we are all reaping the rewards of fewer pounds on our bodies.

Tonight up at the mall I sat down after a few hours on my feet and realized that my back wasn't spasming. My back ALWAYS locks up in spasms when I walk on that hard surface for any length of time, but tonight it didn't. As a matter of fact, it doesn't hurt nearly as much as it used to, and though I still toss and turn much of the day when sleeping (ahhh, the joys of night shift) hips are also less painful. My knees almost never ache, and the plantar fasciitis that has plagued me for years has also let up its evil iron grip. Could it be that these are also directly resulting from removing a bit over 40 pounds from my frame? I think it is, and this challenge has really gotten me off my tuchus and into gear. Its funny, because when I look in the mirror I see a thinner face and thinner legs, but still a large abdomen and extremely ample hips. For a while I actually felt thin, despite having more than half the excess weight to go, and now I no longer feel thin, but am noticing definite changes in the level of minor achiness that has bothered me for years. One other big plus: I can lie on my back and not feel suffocated by my weight! How cool is that?

More flood torrents

2005-10-14T22:03:00.000-05:00

The are assorted shots from the Claremont, NH and Alstead, NH areas. The third shot down from the top is a particularly heartrending image as it illustrates what happens when a house floating downstream loses a battle with a bridge.

This guy is an utter fool

2005-10-14T12:40:00.000-05:00

I'm sorry, but with a torrent like that right behind him, he is either an idiot or has a death wish. It would not take much for that flow to leap its constraints and sweep him right away in a heartbeat. Please don't ever do this if you are in a flood area.

Break out your ark

2005-10-14T12:28:00.000-05:00

Its been raining for nearly two weeks now, after a very long period of beautiful warm sunny weather. We needed some rain, but not quite as much as we got, especially in the first couple of days. In the southern part of the state, where I work, there was severe flooding, and some people remain missing nearly a week after the floods tore through. It is a case of "there but for the will...", especially since one of the nurses lost her home to the floods. She and her family have lost everything--a tragedy no less great for them than for the people down in LA and MISS, and all the more touching because it is personal. I donated food and supplies to the Gulf Coast, and now we are taking up collections for the folks locally including earned time so that this nurse, a new employee, can have an income to tide her over while she begins the laborious and emotionally trying process of starting over.

Without further ado, flood photos:

Automobility

2005-10-01T15:54:00.000-05:00

In Vermont, everything is an hour away. Its not quite that bad where I live, since groceries and a small pseudo mall are available locally, but throughout most of the state groceries, entertainment venues, clothing--all around an hour's drive away. With the exception of the Burlington area, public transportation is nonexistent. Owning an auto is an essential part of life. My own car is finally legal again, after having an out-dated inspection sticker for months. It still needs a new driver's side door, thanks to agent who hit the side of my parked car, and with the new door, a new side mirror, but for once I didn't have to sink several hundred dollars into it to get it to pass inspection. The exhaust had blown out, but I was fortunate that it chose to blow out whilst on its warrantee, so my total repair came to $30 for the labour.

My two eldest children both have designs on my car--the eldest because she's stuck at school some 6-7 hours away, and my son because he wants a job and will need transportation to get there. That translates into two more cars to purchase, register, insure, and maintain. Aren't I lucky? I do need a newer vehicle, or at least one with less wear and tear, because the loooooong commute to and from work is beating my car to death. If I actually get a tax refund this year, I'll have to sink it into a car. With the cost of gas, I'm seriously thinking of purchasing a diesel and converting it to run on used veggie oil. Once the conversion is done, it'll pay for itself in less than six months. One other major money saving measure would be to find employment closer to home. Right now its costing $22/day to go to work--it was alright at $9/day when I started, but now its a serious budget breaker, not to mention the brutal wear and tear on my car. Too bad no one has a car to donate to the cause. Oh well--a car is a necessity, so I'll just have to suck it up and do what I have to so that we still have mobility. Not having a car is unfortunately, not an option.

The new 'do (on a new vous)

2005-09-22T23:54:00.000-05:00

And since I know you probably want to see the final result, here it is--the 20 pound hairstyle which didn't actually make its debut until I was down 42 pounds. Yep--I'm down to 185 here--only 60 more to go! Incidentally, I'm also now down to a body fat percentage of 38.5%. How cool is that? Its a far cry from the 46.8% I started at in March. All that swim time is finally paying off in something other than personal satisfaction.

2005-09-22T23:49:00.000-05:00

As a belated reward for shedding 20 pounds I treated myself to a vintage hairdo--salon set and all. Here a very young 83 year old hairderesser has finished massaging my hair into fingerwaves (a skill all hairdressers must master for their licensure, but which 98% of them forget as soon as the ink is dry on their documentation) and is fiddling with the pincurls. I can whip out a mean headfull of pincurls on myself, but have yet to really master finger waves--at least on myself. I requested a late 1930's style and ened up (after an hour's drying time under the hood) with a classic 1950's style. It drew rave reviews at work, and actually morphed into late 1920's-early 1930's after two nights sleeping on it. *grin* I had to purchase a sleeping bonnet though, lest I totally destroy the hard work in one night.

2005-09-22T23:43:00.000-05:00

Here is the ever lovely Tacincala trying out grandma's dentures--either that or she's going for a fantastic shark impression.

2005-09-22T23:42:00.000-05:00

In Frackville PA is a quirky little bed and breakfast known as grandma's place. It is graced with a Paul Bunyan sized statue of Grandma out front, and has delightful victorian era decor throughout, plus has the most reasonable rates for miles around. Grandma's teeth are like the stars--they come out at night, so we got a souvenier set and had a blast with them. In this shot, we've proven that teeth can be eaten just as well as being used to eat.

2005-09-22T23:37:00.000-05:00

Riding the oh-so-viscious chocolate beast...

2005-09-22T23:36:00.000-05:00

Such a graceful (and giggly) landing...

2005-09-22T23:35:00.000-05:00

Here we have the boosting...

Photo festival

2005-09-22T23:25:00.000-05:00

I've been uploading photos from my camera cards to the laptop and thought I would put a few here to share them with family and friends. The first one was taken in Hershey, PA. and shows my son giving his older sister a boost up onto one the herdshey cows outside the factory. She is ticklish and squirmed, so shot number two occurred and she ended up flopped across the cow. Finally, astride like a well seasoned cowgirl, she rode the docile beast. Me--I just milked it for some fresh chocolate milk. :)

Its a funny thing...

2005-09-19T15:38:00.000-05:00

I've lost 40 pounds but when I look in the mirror most days I just see how much more I have to lose rather than how far I've come. Does this mean I'm not really an optimist? My legs are looking great from about mid thigh on down, but I suffer from a severe case of jiggle thigh above that point. Four inches are now off my waistline, yet it still looks pretty vast when I'm in the nude. The gym has huge mirrors in the dressing room, so its hard not to get a good eyeful when changing. Oh well--hopefully I can use it as motivation to keep me on track.

Not 6 weeks ago I bought a new swimsuit--size 16 no less. Well, now I need another new one and its not because my size has changed. Nope--that $45 was wasted because the chlorine in the pool ate my suit. I'll have to buy a chlorine resistant suit--ugly, but longer lasting and that's the most important part of the equation. I've been swimming 5 days per week, so that's a lot of chlorine exposure.

Alas, I'm not quite where I was in terms of stamina before the pool closed for two weeks. I was up to 3/4 of a mile and doing that in 45 minutes. My first day back after the reopening, I only did 1/4 mile. The next two times I upped it to a half mile and yesterday was pretty beat after the half mile, but decided to really push. I got in my 3/4 of a mile, but only if I counted the 4 laps with the kickboard. Ordinarily I wouldn't count those, but I barely made it to my goal of 3/4 mile with them, so I counted them as distance. I would imagine I'll be back on track again given a good solid week of swim time. Hopefully my suit won't be translucent by then because it's a good week and a half until payday when I can scope out the chorine resistant variety.

Meanwhile I am excited about possibly having a legal vehicle again soon. Thursday I get my exhaust fixed (and a good thing too, as the car is now almost on a par with a jet plane in terms of decibels) and my smooshed door either replaced of yanked out. It will be a wonderful thing to have a window that rolls down and a side mirror again. (My car was hit by a truck nearly a year ago and since then I've been driving with a squished in driver's side door.) I'm crossing my fingers that those will be all it needs to pass inspection--I really want a valid inspection sticker!

2005-09-15T23:43:00.001-05:00

Psychotic dogger

2005-09-15T23:36:00.000-05:00

Growing children

Some days...

2005-09-12T11:08:00.000-05:00

Some days you are the dog, and some days the hydrant. Last night and particularly this morning I was the hydrant. Only one problem...it was about 27 dogs, each of whom had drunk at least five gallons of water. Its time for a good cry and some sleep--with luck when I wake I'll be a hydrant with a rain slicker and hip waders.

Its not lost!

2005-09-10T01:38:00.000-05:00

We shot a short video of my son exploring one of the many cracks in highway 61 in Centralia, but thought it was inadvertantly deleted--to my delight, I found it tonight!

If blogger supports AVI you should be able to play it, but ignore the audio as my youngest and I were bickering over who would get to take photos with the camera. (She is an aspiring photographer which is fine, except that it also means she tends to be a terrible camera hog.)

Without further ado:

Shaky handheld video within--click to view

40 pounds gone

2005-08-31T01:27:00.000-05:00

The plateau seemed like it would never end, but not only did it end, its receded far into the distance. As of today I am officially down fourty pounds! Not only am I out of the 200s, I am actually fairly well into the 180s at 187, and it is a marvelous feeling. All my sweat and effort at the gym is paying off in the form of smaller measurements, a modest amount of muscle definition, and best of all--a dramatic drop in weight on the trusty scale. I'm now confident that even if I retain water, I'll remain under 200 pounds, and as far as I'm concerned, I'll never see 200 again unless I'm holding something heavy (like the cats) whilst on the scale.

I celebrated with a nice long swim two days in a row--I can actually accomplish 3/4 of a mile in 45 minutes, and although I've very tired by the time I finish, I'm not as tired as I was the first time I did that. My shoulder starts aching during the last 3 laps or so, and I've taken to compensating with easier arm strokes and increased kicking power to avoid aggravating it during those last few laps. My guess is that it'll be a good month or so before I'm ready to go beyond the 3/4 mile mark. For now I'm out of the pool for a week and a half, as the gym is closed for rennovations and some much needed pool improvements--I'll have to content myself with the equipment over at the Montpelier branch of the gym. :( They have a much nicer locker room, but the actual equipment isn't as varied as at my home facility. Oh well--at least its still gym access. In anticipation of the impending closure, after my swim today I hit the elliptical trainer for what seemed like a very easy half hour--given the swim directly beforehand, I'm surprised the machine seemed so very easy...I would have expected it to be more of an effort. I must be getting into shape, eh?

2005-08-29T08:42:00.000-05:00

Re-gilding in Frackville. I include this shot simply because the spire was so beautiful.

2005-08-29T08:40:00.000-05:00

Another house typical of Centralia--this one is actually in Frackville some 6 miles away.

2005-08-29T08:24:00.000-05:00

I'm dying to know whats inside...