The Best Laid Plans...Updated

 It will be a little while before I can get back to writing here. Thanks for your patience. Things have been, in a word, Shitful. 

I hope to see you soon.

Updated

I realized later that this was a crummy and selfish post, and I'm sorry. I'm overwhelmed and not myself. It's not my intention to be dramatic or cryptic, and I can see how this can read as both.

In brief:  Dr. B gave me a steroid blast in an effort to ease the pain I am in daily. It didn't work. What it did do--and I was fully aware of this possibility--was to give me a sleepless night, and that was all it took to break me down. I'm in a bad place right now, and I need some time. It's hard to face that this is my Life, and that no amount of fighting is going to make it different for me.

Again, I apologize for the original post. You deserve better. And I know better.

What's The Deal With My Mouth? A List Of Foods I Don't Eat Anymore

 

Rick and I were chatting after watching a commercial about Thanksgiving food. That led to a few comments about foods that I don't like anymore. I shut that conversation down With The Quickness, as my students used to say. 

You know, I'm the first one to admit that I've gotten ... Difficult with food. But I'm also the first one to admit that I heartily wish It Weren't So. I used to be a genial, easy-to-please eater who had no opposition to any food. I gladly ate anything put in front of me without complaint well into adulthood. 

It's only been in the last several years that I've suddenly become unable? unwilling? to eat some foods that I used to like, and the list seems to be growing. Have my taste buds changed? Am I finally becoming more discerning or unwilling to settle for stuff I merely think is ok? I know a couple of things don't sit well in my stomach, and that makes them Not Worth It anymore. Here is a (partial!) list of

Foods I Don't Eat Anymore

1. Bacon

2. Ham

3. Eggs

4. Pizza

5. Pumpkin Pie

6. Pickles

7. Green Peppers

8. Caramel  

9. White Chocolate

No need to go back over the whole Pizza thing--please.

I've found that smoky foods are too overwhelming for me. If barbecue sauces are smoky, I'm out. I do not like that taste at all. Recently, I tried ham again, and it was not too bad, but that was enough to hold me for probably another year or two. It makes me sad because I make a terrific glazed ham that everyone loves, and I used to love it too. Bacon is probably the most overrated thing in the world, there I said it.

I used to ask for, and get, huge jars of dill pickles for Christmas. I piled them on burgers and all kinds of cold cut sandwiches in addition to eating them plain as a snack. Now? I don't think there's a single jar in my house, here or at the lake. When did this happen? No idea.

When I was a little girl, I got incredible chocolates in my Easter basket. My uncle owned and operated a candy store, and he made all the chocolate molds, big filled Easter eggs, and fondant mints. His chocolate was delicious and all bunnies, crosses, chicks, and ducks were solid, not hollow. I often got white chocolate and loved it. Now? Ugh. How can they even call it chocolate? (By the way, each of us used to get a 12" solid chocolate bunny plus other molds, and yes, we always ate the ears first.)

Rick teases me about pumpkin pie this time of year every year. I make two each Thanksgiving and eat zero pieces. I have tried very hard to like it. I love pumpkin bread and pumpkin cookies and pumpkin roll. I find pumpkin pie boring and sad. "Oh, Nance, " you say. "Make a pumpkin cheesecake!" I forgot to add cheesecake to the list of foods I no longer like. 

What are some foods that you've suddenly lost your taste for? Do you share any of mine?

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Better Living Through Little Bottles And Jars: A List Of Stuff I Take That's Not Medicine

Listen, I'll be honest. This is a real Hail Mary of a post because I woke up with a headache (not unusual now with EB/ME) and it developed into a migraine. I had to go to a doctor's appointment that was not encouraging, and the weather is SO GREY and SO WINDY and SO COLD and I'm ... well, let's just not Go There.

One of the discussions I had with Superhero Neurologist Dr. B was about medications. I am not a fan of loading up on a bunch of them, especially if I'm treating symptoms only. If I can manage them another way, that's what I'd rather do. One thing I am willing to take is vitamins or supplements that my doctors recommend if my labs show that I need them or if there is research that shows they will have a positive effect. Here is a list of

Non-Meds That I Take Regularly 

1. Multi-vitamin formulated for women

2. Vitamin D3

3. Vitamin B12

4. Magnesium

5. Iberogast

Because I am on Topamax (generic name topiramate), my body's ability to absorb many vitamins is compromised, especially Vitamin D. I had a severe Vitamin D deficiency several years ago that made me desperately ill and set me on a search to multiple doctors to find out what was wrong with me. It took me a year to recover my health. As a result, I must supplement D3 for the rest of my life. The same thing goes for B12; my levels for that vitamin were also low, and it helps with peripheral neuropathy. I take Magnesium to help with migraines and balance. The Iberogast was not prescribed, but it's an herbal supplement (drops) that help to calm my stomach and gut. Digestive problems are another symptom of ME that I deal with. I find this supplement very helpful for that, and it's just stuff like chamomile, lemon balm, and peppermint. 

Some people call vitamins and supplements the ingredients for expensive pee. I'm following doctor's orders, so I feel vindicated. How do you feel about vitamins and supplements? Do you take very many?  

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A Place For Everything: A List Of How I Keep My Kitchen In Check

 

It will probably not surprise anyone here that I like to Be Organized. Everything has a place, and I expect to find each thing in its place. Part of my fastidiousness comes from growing up in a home where this was not always the case. There were six of us in a very small house, and my mother was not the most enthusiastic housekeeper. My father was zero help in that area, being the breadwinner and quite the chauvinist.

Another reason I came to value Organization was my career. A highschool teacher with an average of 130 students for a class load, I learned that Being Organized meant my very survival. I had a system for everything, with fail-safes built into each of those systems. Nothing slipped between the cracks. My gradebook--yes, the actual black book--was a thing of beauty and efficiency and could tell me volumes at a mere glance. I had to build this empire because teenagers can find any flaw and exploit it to their advantage and to your ruin.

One important place in my own home that I'm quite Organized is my kitchen. It is a small, galley-style kitchen that also includes a breakfast nook. Space is at a premium, and I do cook, so I want it to be efficient and workable. Here is a list of

Ways I Keep My Kitchen Organized

1. Pot Rack 

2. Utensil Hooks

3. Containers With Their Lids

4. No Counter Decor

5. Store What You Don't Use Often 

I'm sure that none of these are revelations to any of you, but in case you have a small kitchen like I do, maybe one or two of these might be helpful. 

Kitchen designers or people who predict trends don't interest me. I want a functional and easy-to-clean kitchen. One of the best things I ever did was get a hanging pot rack. I put the pans I use most often on that and they're always within easy reach, ready to go. The rest of my cupboard can be used for sheet pans, cake and pie pans, and my big pasta pot. And lids (which are neatly stowed in the wire basket from a former freezer). 

I really dislike a big jumble of kitchen utensils like peelers, spatulas, ladles, serving spoons and whisks cluttering up a drawer. Not everything I use/need will fit in a cute crock on the counter. I installed a bunch of hooks, like plain old robe or towel hooks, on the wall, and hung a lot of these items if they had holes in the handles (or through the splines of a whisk). This saves space and the items are right there when I need them.

My good friend and fellow blogger Shirley taught me to end the madness of storing plastic tupper-type containers and lids separately. The summer I retired, I cleared out the plastic container cupboard, tossed any that had no matching lid or container, and stored all remaining containers with lids on them, keeping only the good stuff. It has been that way ever since and it has been life-changing. Trust us; do this.

My kitchen is red, white, and black and full of Holstein cows. I am a Cow Lady. Love them. You can imagine the vast amounts of Cow Stuff I would get for gifts, let alone the stuff I couldn't resist buying for myself. However, if that stuff lived on my counter, I was giving up valuable real estate I needed for food prep and other kitchen work. Rick built me shelves above the door frame and window, and I pared down my collection A LOT. None of it lives on my counter; I can't afford to give up that workspace.

Do I have a huge stainless steel bowl big enough to bathe a baby in? Do I have muffin tins? Do I have three springform pans and lots and lots of wineglasses? How about an electric griddle, ten boxes of pasta, five cans of tomato soup, ten cans of various beans, and dozens of Mason jars for homemade pickles as well as even more smaller jars for pesto season? Heck yes I do. They all live in my basement on the sturdy shelves my husband built in the pantry area. There is no way I want any of that stuff--and more--in my kitchen until I need it.

How many of these methods do you already use? Do you have more to share? 

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Let's Play: A List Of Favourite Toys Of My Childhood

 Theo had his first playdate at another child's home over the weekend. I heard all about it from Jordan yesterday. "They had a wonderful time," she said. "William's dads had converted their entire great room into a playroom. The floor was covered in play mats. There were all kinds of toys. Theo went right to where all the vehicles were neatly parked--trucks, cars, a cement mixer, a school bus--and ran them everywhere. There was every kind of toy imaginable in there!" 

Our boys had a lot of toys, and a great many of them lived in half of our living room, which we simply gave over to them when they were little. They had a Little Tykes basketball hoop in there, as well as a Fisher Price game table that was a glide hockey and pool table in one. I mean, after all, it was where we lived, for goodness' sake. 

When I was a kid, it wasn't like that at all. For one thing, there were four of us. And until I was in high school, my mom didn't have a job outside of the home. I never felt shortchanged or anything, but our Christmases were more modest. I always got the kinds of toys I liked, and my favourites were not spectacular. Here's a list of

Favourite Toys Of My Childhood

1. Colouring Books and Crayons

2. Etch A Sketch

3. Spirograph

4. Play Doh

5. Roller Skates

This list is short because I usually wanted (and got) clothes and books for Christmas and my birthday, along with little niceties like bubble bath and other doodads. I would occasionally ask for a doll, but  looking back, they weren't my favourites. I did play with dolls often, usually on a big blanket spread out under the tree in the front yard with my sister or friends. But the things on this list hold the fondest memories for me.

Every year for Christmas, I would ask for and receive a box of Crayola 64 crayons. I loved to colour, and the year I got The Great Big Nature Book To Colour, I was ecstatic. It was at least three inches thick, and within its pages were the best pictures ever--little animals in the woods, kids picking flowers, birds in nests, kids rowing boats in lakes with fish peeping out from the surface. I loved that book. Now, it's all but impossible to find a colouring book that's not a tie-in with a cartoon or character, or branded in some way. 

When I started being a Play Doh Artiste, there were only four colours, pink, yellow, blue, and white. I considered it a Venial Sin to mix Play Doh, ever. Still, I made wonderful things out of Play Doh and was thrilled to have a sister five years younger so that I could play with it long after it was appropriate.

I rollerskated like it was my job when I was a kid. And, hey, I'm not talking about those sissy skates that are boots with wheels attached that you just put on like bowling shoes. Oh no! I'm talking Change Out Of Your Keds And Put On Your Saddle Shoes In The Summertime And Clamp Those Bitches On By Using A Skate Key Like A Badass skates. These:

from Pinterest

Don't mess with me. I also played jump rope in the street using the telephone pole to hold the rope when we couldn't get another person to twirl. When Susan (my little sister) used to purposely jerk the rope to make me miss, our battles were epic and sometimes bloody. What can I say? Life in the 'hood.

What were some of your favourite childhood toys? Did you ever use a skate key? Anyone else love to get crayons?

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And For The Lady? My List Of Picky Restaurant Behaviours

 Rick and I do not go out to eat very often. This is mostly my fault. I get very annoyed at the prices restaurants charge for even a simple salad. It's outrageous. There are very few good restaurants near us as well, and I won't pay big bucks for mediocre food or food that I could make much better in my own kitchen.

We do have a favourite restaurant nearby, and the food there is always excellent. We know the owner and chef as well as all the wait staff. They take reservations--a must for me--and they will make alterations to any dish (don't like arcadian greens for your salad? they'll sub romaine; prefer no garlic? they'll leave it out). They have a weekly menu of special appetizer, soup, salad, fish, and meat or pasta entree. It's a wonderful place, but pricey. Rick would go there every single week, but I am the rain on his parade.

Here is a list of my

Picky Restaurant Behaviours

1. I do not eat outside.

2. I cannot be seated anywhere near an air conditioning vent.

3. I will not sit at a banquette.

4. I will not wait longer than 15 minutes for a table.

5. I will not order anything that I can make easily at home.

6. I generally do not get beef.

7. I do not sit at the bar.

8. I do not and never will order the salmon. 

I feel like so many of these are things you already know about me or can intuit from reading me all this time. My aversion to camping should make #1 clear. I'm not about to pay money for a meal and then fight the elements to enjoy it. I'm also not going to sit at a long bench and share my meal with strangers. Banquettes are the picnic tables of the restaurant industry. Same with sitting at the bar. 

There is a steakhouse in the area that does not take reservations. It has something called Call Ahead Seating, which I have no understanding of. People show up there and wait as long as an hour or more just to eat. I find that preposterous. Nothing is worth that. I detest waiting for anything, especially if I have an appointment time. 

Sometimes we go to our favourite restaurant--after making a reservation and asking for our favourite server, Lynn--and for a meal I get an appetizer and a salad. And a French 75. And then a creme brulee, because they serve theirs warm, which is so lovely. I try not to add up my part of the bill in my head and get crabby because that ruins the evening for me. Especially if I remembered to bring a sweater.

Am I crazy, or do you have some picky restaurant behaviours, too?

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When Rick Met Nance: Golf Class Explained

Yesterday's mention of meeting my husband in a college golf class provoked some discussion in Comments, enough that I decided to pause my Listing and devote today's post to that story. I'm honestly shocked that in the twenty years this blog has existed it's not been a topic before.

I started my college career in 1977 at Lorain County Community College, working part time at City Bank as a teller. I'd take morning classes, rush home, change clothes, and be at work asap. I also worked Saturdays. Luckily, college tuition at LCCC was ten bucks per credit hour back then, and it was on the quarter system rather than semesters.

Anyway, I was required to take three phys ed classes towards my degree. I was deeply disappointed by this; I had thought I would escape gym class once I graduated high school, where I was a very lackadaisical participant in all things athletic. If there had been a bookathon or a reading olympics, I'd have been all over that. As I made out my freshman college schedule, I scoured the phys ed offerings for anything that met my stringent criteria:  no running, no clothes changing, and no sweating. I was pleased to find three that fit that perfectly--golf, bowling, and marksmanship. 

Another reason I chose golf was because my father was an avid enthusiast of the sport. He played often, disappearing for half the day at least once a week when the weather was decent. He only played nine holes usually, but he never just played the course. He wandered around collecting interesting sticks, acorns, leaves, abandoned bird's nests, and other things in nature that interested him. His golf bag was a mess of environmental samples.

Back to golf class. It was taught by a young, brisk woman named Miss Pugh who was probably in her early thirties, if that, and largely populated by eighteen-year old boys. I was one of about 5 girls in the class. Some days were spent in the classroom, reviewing rules and taking quizzes, but most of the time we were outside in a wide, grassy area practicing putting, driving, chipping, and pitching. Miss Pugh would put us in teams of two or three, give us clubs and tees and plastic balls, and set up an area for us to aim for. 

I hated this part because I realized early on that I hated golf. A lot. It felt awkward and unnatural. And I sucked at it. I was a terrific and accurate putter, but the rest--not so much. I also hated that some of the boys in the class took these outdoor times as opportunities to Play Expert. And get very physical. They'd get behind me, put their hands over mine, and act like they were helping me with my grip and swing. I was quick to put a stop to that.

One day, I was put on a team with Rick and a boy named John. John was very cute (think Benson Boone and Timothee Chalamet) and bougie. We were outside to practice our chipping. All three of us were teeing up and getting ready to address the ball, and John came over to help me. He got behind me and I immediately told him I was fine and could do it myself while maneuvering away from him. I rolled my eyes at Rick and we all chipped. Well, at least John and Rick did. I stood there and watched my ball roll off the tee about six inches, probably from the draft of air my lousy swing produced. "Wow," Rick said, his voice clear and deadpan. "If that was me, I'd pick it up and hit it again."

I was already embarrassed, and now I was furious. Who did this jerk think he was, anyway? I turned around, looked right at him, and said, "And if I were you, I'd go straight to hell."

And thus began our neverending love story, Dear Readers. It continued with Rick pelting John with golf balls, a sort-of marriage proposal another time soon after and me accepting, and Rick getting an A in the class and me getting a C. I've never played golf, but he played many rounds with my father. We've been together 48 years, married 44. Astonishing, isn't it?

 

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Simon and Garfunkel Know: A List Of What I Grow

 

Every spring I walk over to the eastern side of my house that borders the neighbour's driveway to survey the tiny plot of ground that is my herb garden. Once the weather starts to settle in and the days warm consistently, I look to see which herbs have wintered over and which ones I'll need to replant. I clear away the dead leaves and the stray gravel thrown in by Scott's snowblower. (He's a great neighbour, and he'd apologize profusely if he saw me picking out the stones.) I make a mental list of what I need from the greenhouse, and go inside to write it down. 

Some of my herbs have been around for ages, and I so appreciate them. I garden organically, using this product for sturdy growth. When the season is over, I also dry my own herbs naturally by hanging them. Because my herb garden is so sheltered, I often have herbs well into November unless the weather becomes very harsh. Right now, I can--and do--still harvest parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme (aka Simon and Garfunkel's Big Four).

This year, a volunteer Campari tomato plant made an appearance, and I harvested the last of those--green--about a week ago. They are sitting in the sun of my kitchen garden window, ripening at their leisure. I was also inundated with a dozen or so surprise jalapeno plants which I placed en masse in huge patio pots along the driveway. They look quite festive now, huge and full of bright red peppers.

But each year, my herb garden is lush and green, full of the same herbs. Here is a list of

Herbs In My Garden

1. Basil

2. French Tarragon

3. Italian Oregano

4. Chives

5. Rosemary

6. Curly Parsley

7. Thyme

8. Sage

My Tarragon, Oregano, and Chives have been with me for over ten years now. I've done nothing to them to inspire such loyalty and love. They have outstanding flavour, and I was cutting chives not a week ago for baked potato.

Many cooks prefer Italian Parsley, but I find that it tastes a bit like celery to me, so I prefer the Curly variety. I love it in salad, and I use it when I make pesto to help it stay green and lift the flavour a bit. I just cut some last night to put in meatloaf.

When I plant Rosemary, I like the barbecue variety, the kind that grows upright. It gives me more space in my little plot. It's also easier to strip. Rosemary is such a beautiful herb with potato, chicken, roasted vegetables, and you don't dare make lamb without it.

Basil = Summertime to me. I make quarts and quarts of pesto. I love a flatbread on the grill, smeared with pesto, topped with tomatoes marinated in olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Add some fresh mozzarella and that's our go-to lake dinner. It's a shame that I can't winter over Basil, but it gives me so much to look forward to.

Thyme is an astonishing addition to mushrooms and onions. Try it. 

Sage makes all poultry better and it just tastes like Thanksgiving to me. It's also nice with pork. 

Do you have an herb garden? Cook with herbs? What are some of your favourites?

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Presenting Me: A List Of Random Facts To Get Newer Readers Up To Speed

It suddenly dawned on me that a great many of you have not been hanging around the Dept. since I started writing here in 2005. You've had to pick up context clues and figure things out as you go, and while it's pretty easy to catch on, it feels sort of rude to me that I haven't provided some background. I don't have an About Me page or anything, and the Blogger bio is glib and brief.

Quite some time ago, I did post a few photos of myself on a separate page to satisfy the curiosity of a few readers, then took them down. It's a Privacy Thing. Some of you have met me and can vouch for the fact that I'm a Real Person and do, in fact, exist. 

Anyway, I thought today I'd share some random facts about me that might help to fill in some gaps or merely round out your view of me. Or maybe even surprise you. Here then is the list of stuff that's

All About Me

1. I met my husband Rick in golf class in our first year of college.

2. I have two sons:  Jared is 40 and Sam is 37. Jared is the father of my grandson, Theo, who will be 2 in about two weeks.

3. I changed my college major from veterinary medicine to elementary education to secondary education and became an English teacher.

4. I learned to read when I was about 3 years old.

5. I am deathly afraid of snakes.

6. I detest winter.

7. I've lived in Ohio all my life.

8. I am a recovering Catholic who is now atheist.

9. I am almost always cold, and I have three heating pads.

10. I am a huge Dog Appreciator and know almost all dog breeds by sight, but I won't ever own a dog.

11. I do not like pizza.

12. I have a big 15-year old orange tabby cat named Piper; he will be my last cat forever.

13. I used to have a massive and long-running crush on Daniel Day-Lewis.

14. I hate country music.

15. I do freelance writing and editing.

Time is running out for me to post this. It was a tiring day. If you'd like details on any of these, please ask, and I'll be happy to provide in Comments. Otherwise, give me some similar facts about yourself:  Who's your celebrity crush? Do you like country music? Have a phobia? Dislike a popular food? Let's hear it.

Things I Learned From My Father

 

My dad and Mac

I awoke with a headache, thanks to a big front that's moved in. Sometimes migraines can make me feel emotional and a bit...close to the edge. Maybe I dreamed about him, maybe it was Rick greeting me this morning with the election news of all the Democratic victories, but I find myself thinking of my father so much this morning. 

For those of you who are new here, my dad was a lifelong union man, a steelworker, a former professional fastpitch softball pitcher known as the Lorain Tornado, and staunch Democrat. He was a first generation American, born of two Croatian immigrants. He was a WWII veteran, a deep reader of philosophy, an appreciator of music, and a guardian of Nature. He was also a terrible chauvinist who perplexingly encouraged his three daughters to be independent, confident, free thinkers, to never need a man, and to stand up for themselves always.

Here is a partial list of some other

Things I Learned From My Father

1. Look someone in the eye when you talk to them.

2. Don't be part of The Common Herd.

3. Some people simply cannot help themselves, and they need help from others and their government.

4. The anticipation of an event is just as important as the event itself.

5. Every person has value.

6. Be a good listener and you can talk with anyone.

These are all pretty self-explanatory, but they helped to make me a good teacher, parent, and person. All of us were raised without prejudice, and we were expected to be kind. In the later years of his career, Dad was a security guard at US Steel, working the gatehouses where big trucks came in and out and the workers left after their shift was over. So many of them hung around just to talk to my father, sometimes for an hour or more. It wasn't uncommon for us to be out and about and have several people come up to him and chat, even when we were on our cross-country trip! He knew everyone, and everyone wanted to stop and exchange a few words. Oddly enough, my father used to grumble about this often, saying he preferred to be left alone.

Growing up, I was often frustrated by my demanding father. He was old-fashioned and strict; he seemed as if he didn't trust us. I know now that he didn't trust the world and the people around us. He saw what was out there, more of it than we did. His own childhood was ugly and rough. I wish he had tried to make us understand.

He did see the results of his endeavours, however, both in his children and his grandchildren before he died 25 years ago. I know he found great joy in that.  

Eating My Words: A List Of Nevers That Are Now Alwayses (Is That Even A Word?)

Many, many years ago I was a person of absolutes. I used the words Always and Never liberally in my conversations, and I really meant them when I said them. So many things seemed so clear to me all the time. Distinctions were not fine; they were obvious and defined. I found decisions relatively easy and clear-cut. 

In short, I was an idiot. And young. And lacked the wisdom and experience to know very much at all. As time has gone on, I've learned to stop using words like Always and Never. Instead, I say things like, "I can't imagine myself ever" or "At this point, it's my habit to". 

As you can imagine, I've had to eat my own words many times. Here is a list of

Things I Said I'd Never Do, But Now I Do Them All The Time

1. Text

2. Use the word Text as a verb

3. Go out in public wearing leggings

4. Be okay with my kids having tattoos

5. Wear sneakers any time but for exercise

6. Let Rick go to the grocery store with me

I know, right?

Back in the early days of cellphones, I could not understand how anyone wanted to type on those itty bitty keyboards and pay for the privilege. It just seemed ridiculous to me. I hated all the stupid word shortcuts, too:  ur for your or you're; l8 for late; cu for see you, etc. They irked me. Then! Students started using the word Text as a verb, and worse yet, they added tense endings to it. "He texted me that he'd be absent today." Aaarrgghhh. I swore I'd never, ever use Text as a verb, let alone pay for typing out messages on a minuscule keyboard. Not me! Oh, ha ha it is to laugh.

I held out on leggings for a bit longer, but not by much. Black leggings are my uniform, and you will never, ever pry them out of my grasp. I wear them 3.5 seasons out of the year, and I don't care if I have to use the lint roller every single time I step out of the house. It's worth it. 

Tattoos are so mainstream now that my initial objections seem quaint and stuffy. I still wish my sons did not have them, but that's mainly because they are my babies and I remember them as that. All that beautiful, perfect skin that I knew every unblemished inch of. But their ink doesn't change who they are, and they designed meaningful illustrations, mostly of family emblems and symbols. Will I ever get a tattoo? I can't imagine a scenario in which I would.

See? I've learned to never say Never! How about you? Have you had to eat your words like I have? Or has it usually been your habit to avoid that situation? (I'm pretty good at this now!)

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Cheers! A List Of What I'm Drinking These Days

Back in the days before my Miracle Migraine Medicine, I used to drink Diet Coke and Diet Dr. Pepper all the time. I drank these sodas at school in the classroom even though they gave me tremendous gas. The students used to love when I belched. It was such a bizarre juxtaposition, seeing me standing there, dressed to the nines and teaching Honors English, yet suddenly letting out such enormous burps that usually took me quite by surprise. But once I went on Topamax, the days of drinking soda were over. That med causes a very unpleasant reaction with CO2, and I can't drink anything with lots of carbonation anymore. I manage, somehow, to survive, rest assured. Here is a list of

Things I Can And Do Drink

1. Water

2. Decaf Coffee

3. Herbal Tea

4. Cider Hot Toddy

5. Champagne

6. Martini

7. French 75

8. Wine

9. Some Beer

10. Bloody Mary

Looking at this list, one may think, 'Wow. Nance is a boozy lady.' I wish. In reality, I am a cheap date because it's rare that I have more than one cocktail or craft beer. My tolerance for alcohol is laughably low. I'm a small person, and even after one sip, I start feeling it. 

This lady is the most hydrated person in the world. I drink water constantly. It is always at my side. I had to switch to decaf coffee shortly after I retired because it started making me jittery, and I didn't need the caffeine to keep me going through the day anymore. Now I drink coffee because I love it.

Last night I was chilly and exhausted after a day spent with Theo (so worth it!). I warmed up a huge cup of cider with a cinnamon stick, a clove, and a shot of Canadian Maple liqueur. I put myself under a blanket, put my heating pad on high, and luxuriated in front of Netflix with Piper snoring on my lap and the toddy cozying me up from the inside. Highly recommend.

What are your go-to drinks these days? Have you had to give any up? Do you belch like a teen boy in a contest?

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Stripping Down: Another Life List

 

About a hundred years ago, my son Jared and I had a blog together called Stuff On Our List. We wrote list posts about all kinds of stuff and then offered a few comments about some of the items on the lists. For November I've decided to use that format for my posts here. Let's get into today's list of

Things I'm Not Wearing Anymore

1. Makeup

2. Jewelry

3. Wristwatch

4. Wedding ring

5. Bra

6. Fussy Shoes

7. Glasses with those nose pad thingies

Let me be clear:  I have not Given Up. I don't drag around the house in sweatpants and slippers looking slovenly and pathetic. These are all things I stopped wearing well before my recent diagnosis. I still look Very Nice and Presentable. At any given moment, I could answer the door and be perfectly fine if it were, say, a handsome dignitary or sophisticated billionaire offering me a generous check. I do still wear mascara, geeze.

Many of you might be Nitpicking and say, "Nance. Wristwatches and Wedding Rings are Jewelry. You are redundant." To you I would say Perhaps, but I think of Jewelry as things such as earrings (I donated all my earrings and let my three earlobe holes close); bracelets (I have a huge collection of sterling silver ones); and necklaces (I have lots of sterling silver chains, too--necklaces began to trigger migraines). I stopped wearing my wedding ring when my weight kept going down, down, down, and it fell off. I also had to have it cut off once when I injured my hand, and that was awful. 

Years ago, I wore wonderful high heels to work every day. My students were astonished that I didn't own any sneakers. How devastated they'd be to know that I wear sneaker-type shoes every day now--soft, rubber-soled slip-in shoes that are comfortable but still attractive, like these. Or black Mary Janes that are knockoffs of these. Of course, I have many others because some habits die hard. I'm especially fond of these. And I have them in white, too.

Have you given up on Wearing Some Things, too? Why? Do you think I'm giving up too easily? Chat me up in Comments.

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Oldies But Goodies: My Past In Concerts

 

My younger sister often goes to concerts. She and her husband drive to nearby states to see their favourite bands and she sends me video clips. I haven't been to a concert in over a decade, and that one was in a private box at The House of Blues in Cleveland. I was the guest of a big shot on the board who is a former student and was also my financial adviser at the time. It was the perfect situation for me because I didn't have to worry about people standing up in front of me, people dancing around next to me, or people holding up their arms or their phones in front of my face. 

I've wisely stopped going to concerts because I know that they are simply not the place for me. I'm not going to pay big bucks to listen to thousands of people sing along and annoy me in other ways. I'd rather stay home and listen to music in comfort.

In my youth, however, I did go to concerts, and thankfully, I didn't have to pay exorbitant prices. At the risk of all of you furrowing your brows and repeatedly asking Who?, here is at least a partial list--in no particular order--of

Concerts I Have Attended

1. Eric Carmen

2. Seals & Crofts

3. James Taylor

4. Harry Chapin

5. Genesis

6. Peter Frampton

7. The Cars and Wang Chung

8. Phil Collins

9. Rod Stewart

10. Rod Stewart and Stevie Nicks

11. Stray Cats

12. Michael Crawford

13. Trans Siberian Orchestra

14. Aretha Franklin

15. B.B. King

16. Neil Diamond

It's entirely possible that there are more and I can't remember. 

Seals & Crofts was my very first concert. My best friend and I were huge fans, and her parents took us to see them at the Ohio State Fair. I was in probably 8th grade, and we were both so excited. Eric Carmen was my second concert. He was a Cleveland boy, frontman for the group the Raspberries. He went solo and had the big hit All By Myself. He played at a local high school's theater, and my older sister and I went. I was 16 at the time. You aren't the only one wondering why these acts were playing at such relatively obscure venues.

There are a few of these on the list that I saw more than once, like Genesis and Rod Stewart and Phil Collins. A few were concerts that weren't chosen by me, like B.B. King, Neil Diamond, and Stray Cats, but I went and had a great time. The Aretha Franklin concert happened after a Cleveland (then) Indians baseball game. Aretha arrived in a big Cadillac that drove right onto the field. She had a huge entourage, and I have no idea what all those people were doing because they sure didn't sing with her. 

There are some concerts I would have loved to have seen:  Elton John, Queen, Tina Turner, Carly Simon, and Earth, Wind and Fire, among others. Heartbreakingly, I had plans to see Elton John, but that was the year I got very sick with mono and strep. He played Cleveland without me--an Official Elton John Fan Club member!

My older sister actually saw The Beatles in concert in Cleveland. Can you even imagine?

What are some of the concerts you've seen? Do you even know who these acts are?

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It's Ketchup Time Again--A Tyrant Cat, EB/ME, And My Brain Finds Another Book Mistake

 Let me just start right in by saying that I am immensely thankful for all of you that manage to write so often over at your spots. You are Miracles and Superheroes, and you make my morning coffee even more pleasant. Sometimes, I have to peer over a giant orange tabby head to see you, but it is always well worth it.

Speaking of giant orange tabby cats, I think Piper's behaviour was kept in check by Marlowe, or she was a sort of calming influence because since she has been gone, he has really become a loudmouth and a tyrant. I'm not used to being bossed around by anybody, let alone a cat, but it would seem that I am that cat's bitch. And I'm beyond sorry that I ever, ever put ice in his water the first time. Is there anyone else whose cat demands his beverage On The Rocks? 

On the rocks. Sigh. Let's get this onerous part out of the way. After more than 30 different blood tests, an MRI, two EMGs, and a few doctor's appointments, I've been diagnosed with Epstein-Barr and Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (EB/ME). ME used to be called chronic fatigue, a term that you're probably more familiar with. The way it was explained to me is that the E-B likely came from my severe bout of mononucleosis when I was 17. The virus lies dormant forever, like chicken pox. It can resurface anytime and cause E-B in some people the way the chicken pox virus causes shingles. My E-B is severe and accompanied by unusual stress, leading to ME. 

I can't go into much detail about the unusual stress, but I'll just say this:  in late August and half of September, we helped Sam look for, find, and buy a house. For him and Zydrunas. In all of October, we have helped him clean, refurbish, and furnish the house, move into it, and provide whatever support we could throughout. Jared and his family have been monumental support as well. All this had to be because someone's social media wasn't as fun as it used to be. 

In November I'm going to try to post every single day and ignore all that stupid, unfair bullshit about my health situation and everything. I have to live it, but I don't have to talk about it ad nauseum here in my blog. I always appreciate your kind comments and any advice or support; I'm just not going to make it a topic here. I trust that you'll be grateful.

Before I go, I want you to check out this passage from Meet Me in Another Life by Catriona Silvey. I read this a while ago and greatly enjoyed it, even though its genre is not usually one I enjoy. Julie reviewed it and I was immediately drawn in. Anyway, I was reading intensely when I was jolted by this passage:

Maybe you're not a knitter or a crocheter, so this went right by you. When you knit, you use two needles. But when you crochet, you use one, and those who crochet almost universally call them hooks, not needles. Did this interfere with my enjoyment of the book? No, it did not. Do I wish that my brain didn't constantly notice these things? Yes, I do. Sigh.

Right now, I'm only reading our CBBC book, The Joy Luck Club, even though I have several books in my TBR pile. And let's not even talk about my stack of The New Yorker magazines. As I said, I'm looking to November for some fresh, renewed time. Maybe that will be more reading time. Maybe that will be less rain and possible short walk time. And for sure I'm going to try for more blogpost time.

Thanks for showing up, both at your spot and here in Comments. You make my days.

THE Emotional Support STD Nitpicky Book Chat You've Been Waiting For

 It's a good thing we're not meeting for coffee because we'd be sitting for hours and hours, and you might get all jacked up on caffeine, whereas I--a decaf drinker--would probably be in and out of the bathroom a lot after having switched to Just Ice Water after my second cup.

Anyway.

I have a lot to talk about in no particular order, so let's get started.

You'll Be Glad To Know That I Do Not Have Syphilis.

So, I went to my superhero neurologist to try and figure out what the heck is going on. He ordered two dozen blood tests after a thorough exam. As the results came in--and some are still coming in--I was shocked to find out just how thorough Dr. B was being. He had my blood tested for all the hepatitises (hepatitisi?), various levels of vitamins and minerals and metals, and of all things, syphilis. I cannot wait to go back and see him next week for my EMG and to ask him Just What Kind Of Girl He Thinks I Am. So far, everything has been negative or within mostly normal levels. The initial diagnosis is Peripheral Neuropathy, but he is not sure of the underlying cause for it. I'm also getting a thoracic MRI to look at my spinal cord whenever the insurance gods/company says I'm allowed. In the meantime all I can do is take one day at a time. I cannot build strength or stamina; the condition does not allow for that. I miss my walks and my life. Honestly, I'm scared.

Pretend Kermit The Frog Is A Picky English Teacher/Editor And Sing! It's Not That Easy Being Me.

The book Orbital is beautiful and breathtaking on every page. As I read it, I felt transported and awed. The cadence of the book is somehow sweeping, yet measured. The language is poetic and majestic without being overwritten. I cannot tell you how many times I had to put the book in my lap and look up from it just to savor a moment of language.

Until I read this:

It's really something, this typhoon, Pietro says when he comes to join her. They watch it hone in on the Philippines and Taiwan and the coast of Vietnam. Its spiral flings clouds for hundreds of miles around a hole-punched siphoning eye. (p84)

My own eye felt hole-punched. With a big red-hot stabby thing. How could she? How could Samantha Harvey make this mistake? How did it get past editors? UGH.

Hone--to sharpen a blade or refine a skill

Home--to focus on a target or goal; to move or aim toward a destination with accuracy

This irritates me so mightily. It's right up there with the misuse of palette/palate/pallet (they're all different things, people!), and...well, to be honest, pretty much everything. 

Still, 99.999% of Orbital is wonderful. Consider this extract from a paragraph:

Our lives here are inexpressibly trivial and momentous at once. Both repetitive and unprecedented. We matter greatly and not at all....death is so close. Life is everywhere, everywhere.

I Can't Swim, But My School Wasn't A Boat

Speaking of books, I also finished The Wager, a terrific nonfiction book about a British shipwreck and mutiny in the 18th century. Engie reviewed it some time ago, and I was intrigued. I also discovered it was written by the same author who wrote The Lost City of Z, one of my favourite nonfiction books, so I knew it would be engagingly written. And it was. I have no quibble at all with the book, but there were several things that just astonished me. First of all, many, many of the career seamen on the ship DID NOT KNOW HOW TO SWIM. Apparently, this was not unusual among seafarers. How in the hell do men decide to join the navy or be a mariner, knowing they could be months or years on a boat that could be swamped by waves, fully cognizant that they could become shipwrecked or lost, and still say, "No problem. Swimming is not a skill I'll need when out on the seas with no land in sight"? 

I think you need to read this book to marvel at all the other incredibly ridiculous decisions these men made in the name of service to the crown, personal honour, and loyalty to their commander at the expense of their own personal safety and survival. I wanted to smack them so, so many times. And tell them to GET REAL FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE.

Walmart Needs To Make Up Its Mind About Aquatic Animals And Safety.

On a slightly related watery note, if you've been a longtime reader, you know that if there is an animal story in the news, I'm all over it; that is my vow to you. Credit for this one goes to Rick, who knew I'd be charmed by the headline. I think you will be, too:

EMOTIONAL SUPPORT ALLIGATOR NO LONGER WELCOME IN PENNSYLVANIA WALMART

I want to thank David K. Li, the reporter on this important story, who provides us not only with this fantastic headline, but the story and video that I want all of you to go read and watch right now. In case you are hesitating, the alligator--leashed--sits in the shopping cart whilst wearing a dress and, in another scene, luxuriates contentedly in a fur collared sweater in her owner's arms. This alligator is about as dangerous as a bunny rabbit, yet Walmart has banned it. “The safety of our customers and associates is our highest priority,” Walmart said. “We welcome service animals in our stores, but it is unacceptable to expose members of the public to potential danger.”

Oh, really, Walmart? This is pretty ironic, coming from the place that sold radioactive shrimp to thirteen states. And if you bought a bag of that irradiated shrimp, don't return it for a refund, say officials. Simply throw it away! Share that radioactivity with the world as it rots in a landfill. Did you eat it? Are you having ill effects? Contact your medical provider. Will Walmart pick up the tab? Oh ha ha it is to laugh.

Maybe seek some solace from your emotional support alligator. Just don't take it shopping with you when you go get your prescription from the Walmart pharmacy.

And While I'm Feeling Snarky...

I don't get how college football is a bigass deal. Maybe it isn't in your state, but I'm in Ohio, and a lot of people here are huge Ohio State fans, and they are obnoxious about it. Here's what I don't understand:  how can you be such a big fan of a college you never even went to? I got my undergrad degree from Bowling Green State University, and I could not possibly care less how their football team does. Ever. Also? Why does Ohio State get all precious and persnickety and call themselves The Ohio State University? Why the The? It's stupid. And pretentious. I automatically refer to all the colleges I went to as The now:  The Lorain County Community College; The Bowling Green State University; The Ashland College (now University). I also took some grad classes at The College of Mount St. Joseph, but they legitimately have a The in their name. I urge all of you to add a The to wherever you went to school just to diminish Ohio State's use of it for prestige and to call attention to how positively ridiculous it is.

Okay! That was a lot. Tell me the The names of your schools and All Kinds Of Other Things in Comments.

image credits:

freepik.com

invaluable.com

letsloop.com

superstock.com

Goodbye, August. You Can Show Yourself Out

 

Goodbye, August. Be on your way and don't give September any ideas, unless it's for the beautiful blue skies, voluptuous clouds, and refreshing temperatures you've left as parting gifts. Other than that, take your leave and all your lousy vibes with you.

I've been struggling with a mystery condition for a while now. After any exertion my muscles suddenly become very weak. I start losing my balance; my feet will scuff the ground when I walk, causing me to trip, then fall. Sometimes, I can sense it happening; other times, I have no warning at all. My arms have no strength, and my hands shake at times with tremors. I cannot carry anything of much heft, and there are times I can't steadily put a drink to my lips. As you can no doubt guess, this has put an end to my daily walks; I haven't been able to take one for a month. 

I miss them more than you could ever imagine. And I am so very tired so much of the time.

This is eerily reminiscent of my Vitamin D deficiency in 2017, except that I've been supplementing D religiously since then. Obviously, these symptoms prompted a visit to my primary care physician, who ordered some labs and a visit with my neurologist. Her initial diagnosis is that my very high dose of Topamax for migraine prevention, that I've been on for twenty years, might now be just too high for my tolerance at my age. "I worry that we might be doing this to you, not a disease process," she said. My dosage of Topamax is extremely high--higher than what is usually recommended--in order to control my migraines. My neurologist--actually his NP--ordered more labs and stepped down my Topamax as a possible solution. Another possible diagnosis is myasthenia gravis; unfortunately, there is no definitive test for it, only markers to look for or rule it out in a big process of elimination. But my initial round of labs looked pretty good, at least from what I saw and could figure out on my own.

And, as is always the case it seems, I don't go back for a follow-up with my actual neurologist until mid-September after new labs are done next week. Sigh.

As so many of you know, Patience is Not My Gift. I'm angry and annoyed that I'm so limited. And that now there is so much more burden placed on Rick. Just running the vacuum can put me out of commission for an hour or more. He escorts me on short little walks in case I tire and begin to show signs of scuffing. Spending part of a day with Theo--holding him, playing on the floor, being active with him, a Very Busy toddler--makes me incredibly tired and sore, but that will always, always be worth it. 

In other news, August marks yet another year for Dept. of Nance. I've been writing here for twenty years now! It's astonishing, but even more astonishing is the number of you who have been here for so many of those anniversaries. Thank you, and a special Thank You to my Faithful Commenters, who engage in and encourage such a lively, witty, and intelligent discussion here. You're the best on the Internet, no doubt about it.

I'll write a more celebratory post soon, but I wanted to share this news with you, my friends and virtual support group. Thank you for being here, and thank you for writing over at your places. It's a joy to start my day with you every single morning.

Shaking A Few Things Loose

This week I feel a Big Purge coming on. As I was packing to go to the lake for the weekend, I noticed that there were several things in my closet that I hadn't worn all summer; in fact, I couldn't remember the last time I had worn them. Clearly, it's time for them to go. That made me think about the rolled-up rug in the office closet and the shoes in there that haven't been worn lately either. Time to box and bag things up and call my favourite charity, Vietnam Vets of America, and get them out here for a pickup. (As usual, I'll try to inspire Rick to--cue dread and doom music--go through his things as well, but I don't expect that to amount to anything.)

I'm also feeling the need to Purge a few Thought Nerfuls and Cerebral Clutterbits taking up space in my head, so I'm going to give it a rattle and see what shakes loose.

BOOBS.  As in, mine are because I am Rebelling and refusing to wear a bra for the rest of the summer as of about two weeks ago. Now, to be fair, I am not Copiously Endowed, and because I am an Older Lady, mine are not, shall we say, prone to Being Bouncy. I have spent too much money on trying to find a bra that is even remotely comfortable, and yes, I was even professionally fitted. If I am wearing something sheer, I wear a cami; if I am not, then Shirt Only it is. Chances are extremely good that I continue this for all three remaining seasons and for the rest of my life, especially since I Just Don't Care. 

BOOKS.  I finished--with some disappointment--Parallel Lines by Edward St. Aubyn. Listen, the writing is excellent. I remain entranced and entertained by the character Sebastian, who features in the opening chapter and made me want to read this book. BUT. There were too many characters cluttering up the landscape and they weren't all different enough to make me notice. As a matter of fact, at one point I just sort of skipped lots paragraphs concerning a couple of characters AND IT MADE ZERO DIFFERENCE TO THE PLOT. And the ending made me irritated in that I put up with SO MUCH just to get to...this? Maybe your reading will be vastly different and I truly hope so. Maybe I am just a Huge Pain In The Ass about modern fiction.

However.

I am now reading Orbital by Samantha Harvey. First of all, thank you Julie for reviewing this book over at your place and for providing an excerpt. This book. This book is so achingly beautiful that when I read it, there are times that I simply have to put it down and breathe and recover myself. This morning I took it out on the patio with my coffee; the sound of my little pond waterfall was in the background, and now and then a bird would sing. As I read I would almost be overcome. What an incredible piece of literature. I feel privileged to read it.

PLANTS.  My basil is a green machine. I've made so, so many jars of pesto--in total a little over two quarts so far. I put it in little jars so that it stays fresher longer. Somebunny has gotten into my parsley despite my menacing fake owl and mowed down almost an entire plant. One suspect lounges quite nonchalantly under my swing in the evenings. My catnip got a severe case of powdery mildew, so I cut it all back and took it outside. Neither Piper nor Marlowe care/d a whit about catnip in their old age (I found out), so I was basically growing catnip to give away to the grandcats (Baker and George) anyway. (Side Note:  Jared and Jordan often threaten George that "Nana will come and speak sternly to you" when he misbehaves because they heard me threaten him with that ONE TIME.)

PLEASURES.  It's important to make note of Small Things That Make Us Happy, and here are mine in no particular order:  

1. Coffee

2. The family group chat

3. My porch and patio

4. My little pond and waterfall

5. Blackberries

6. The icemaker

7. Seeing Theo's crib in the office

8. Watching the two little boys across the street and remembering when Jared and Sam were that age

9. My volunteer tomato plant 

10. Piper snoring

I absolutely cannot wait to read what you have to say in Comments about Boobs, Books, Plants, or your life's little Pleasures.

Marlowe

 

Fifteen years ago I adopted these two kittens from our local Friendship Animal Protective League. They were the last two left from a litter of six front porch cats that had been surrendered to the shelter. I couldn't believe that these two were left; I thought they were adorable. I always wanted an orange cat and a grey cat, and Rick, who was under the assumption that we were there to get only one cat, thought he was being my hero when he said, "Don't try to decide. Just get them both."

Which was my plan all along.

Their shelter names were Dusty and Nike. If you look closely at the grey one, you can see the swoosh on her forehead. I renamed them Piper and Marlowe after looking into their eyes and allowing their names to come to me. (I think that's the best way to name all pets.)

I'm telling you this Origin Story because on Monday we had to say goodbye to Marlowe. Her decline was sudden and precipitous. She wasn't in any pain, but she stopped eating and was lethargic and confused. Uncharacteristically, her brother began staying close to her, holding her as she slept. When I took her to the vet, she was bloated, and the doctor said she had severe anemia and lymphoma. Treatment was available, but it would be very taxing and a positive outcome was a longshot. I made the decision to let her go, and it was the right one.

Here she is on the back of my chair. That's my head, bottom left. We match!

Marlowe was a huge cat, first of all. I'm pretty sure there was some Maine Coon in there. She had big, tufty feet and a glorious fluffy tail. One of her vets said she and Piper were the tallest cats she had ever seen. She hated to be brushed, which was unfortunate, because she was prone to mats. Grooming her was my part-time job because she made it a chore.

All of our leather chair backs sag because they were her cat beds.

She was almost like having a dog. She would play fetch with one particular toy, a blue plastic ring. I also taught her several tricks that she'd perform for treats. She would spin around, stand up on her hind legs, give paw, and sit. Piper didn't have to do anything for his treats because, well, Orange Cat. She was also very good about responding to commands such as Come, In, Up, and Down. She really was a very obedient girl. And if the squirrels were mobbing the peanut feeder on the porch and keeping my blue jays away, I could run her out there to scare them away. She was the best.

Monday was a beautiful sunny day. At the vet, Marlowe was calm and quiet in my arms, and I held her by the window so that we could look outside at the trees. I reminded her of all the time she spent out on the front porch with Rick and me and Piper enjoying the breeze and looking out at the neighbourhood and all the lunchtimes she shared with Sam. I told her what a good girl she was and how we loved her. As she slipped away, I felt relieved that she wasn't confused and lost anymore.

 

This is Piper with his Emotional Support Puppy. He loves it. I bought it for him at my funny grocery store for $3.99. (It's actually a dog toy. I had gotten one for Zydrunas because A) of course I did, and B) I think it looks like Zydrunas.) I didn't know how Piper would react to Marlowe being gone, and since he was snuggling her so much near the end, I thought he might like something to cuddle up to. 

So far, Piper has been doing okay. He vocalizes more, he wants me to sit with him a bit while he eats, but otherwise, he is himself. Rick misses Marlowe quite a bit. She liked to sit with him in the recliner. But only if he had jeans on. If he was wearing his pajamas or sweats, it was a no-go. And if he crossed his legs, she let him hear about it. 

I miss her, but I am still overcome with the feeling of gratitude that she is no longer ill and confused. Her condition near the end was heartbreaking for me. I was so at a loss. It was devastating. Now, it's over. I know I gave her a very good life, and she rewarded me many times over. 

When we adopt our pets, they are ours for better or worse, and we love and care for them in sickness and in health...'til death do us part. It's a sacred yet unspoken vow, and they depend upon us entirely. I'm glad I did not fail Marlowe. 

The July Report: Strap In And Let's Do This

this is from YouTube

 July has been all over the place so far. This post will probably reflect that. Hang on tight because I have no real idea what this may turn into. Let's go.

1. Cervical Facet Arthropathy/Syndrome and Cervical Epidural Steroid Injection:  This all has nothing to do with lady parts; rather, it's all about a pain in the neck. It seems that my most recent falls have exacerbated the arthritis in my neck and exposed a nerve. I've been in pain and physically limited for months and months, and it finally got bad enough that I was referred to a pain specialist. Long story short, we tried medicine, and on Monday a cortisone shot into my neck/spine. If that doesn't hold, next is a nerve ablation. After that, it's surgery to insert pins/rods. I'm Trying Very Hard to avoid that last thing, which is huge and scary and, to me, the very last resort. So far, I'm really pleased with the injection. Fingers crossed that it gives me relief for a long time.

2. Herb Garden Stuff:  I've already made a batch of pesto from my basil and parsley and dried some oregano. My oregano is from a plant I put in more than 10 years ago. I've had to seed dill twice now because of this horrendous heat. I have a volunteer tomato plant somehow in there (I haven't planted tomatoes there for decades), and my jalapenos from last year seeded themselves smack dab in the middle of my rosemary. Today I pulled 14 jalapeno plants and put them in huge pots along the drive. I'll be making pesto again this week, provoking much joy from Jared and Sam.

3. Social Commentary Or Just Laziness? You Decide:  Sometimes on my walk I am confronted with sights that cause me to ruminate for a block or two. As a former English/Literature/Creative Writing teacher and student, I cannot help but see Deeper Meanings in most things. Plus, it's a nice break from reacting with Just Plain Annoyance. Consider these two related things that caught my eye today:

Is this a commentary on the way Organized Sports have a chokehold on our kids, forcing them into a world of pressure and competition far too early? Is it trying to tell us that kids should be spending more time outdoors in free play, discovering the wonders of Nature? Is it saying that too much money is spent on professional sports--salaries, arenas, merchandise, and the like--perhaps to the detriment of our natural environment? That we've lost our way as to what's Truly Important? I like to give my neighbours lofty, artsy, and highfalutin intentions rather than admit they're just indifferent about their yards. It allows me to maintain my Zen whilst I walk.

4. Weekends At The Lake:  Theo was ill over Independence Day with new teeth and a virus, so he couldn't join us, but Sam and Emily (aka Samily) and Zydrunas came for the day. We boated and lunched and hung out. Later that night, Rick and I watched three different fireworks displays from our front yard. We had a makeup weekend last weekend with everyone (minus Emily, who had to work, unfortunately), and it was wonderful. Theo is obsessed with Sam, who he calls Guncle. He drove the boat, talked a lot, danced, and got in the water. He had the time of his life, and we all marveled at how much having him around is like having Zydrunas around. Eerily similar, especially on the boat.

5. Books, Etc.:  I've read two books by Jay Winik about the Civil War. I know I've mentioned them in other Comment sections, so I won't talk about them here except to say that they are excellent and captivating. The writing is engaging and excellent. I grew up vacationing in Gettysburg, and I have a bit of an obsession with this period of history as well as President and Mary Lincoln, reading deeply in these areas. Sadly, I just lost my favourite aunt who lived in Gettysburg and who was a very gracious hostess to our family and to me separately. She was also an English teacher, as was her husband. I will miss her much.

I'm now reading--as a palate cleanser--Parallel Lines by Edward St. Aubyn. It is witty, British, acerbic, and smart. Say what you will about Evil Amazon (and there is plenty to), but they let me read the first chapter of books, and this one had me smiling in admiration, recognition (of how one thought leads to another and another), and amusement. I'm only about 45 pages in, and I absolutely love it. I can't wait to read more by this man. If I were sweeter, I'd type out some passages, but honestly, it's time to prep dinner, and I want to get this published. Go read the first few pages. It's so so good.

****

I think this catches us up. I'd like to say that I'll be better at posting more often, but I think we all know how that will turn out. Thank you to those who do post regularly. I wish I knew your secret. Certainly I have time! Perhaps I'll just say I'll Try.