A more coherent and hopefully cogent post either this evening or this weekend (as to why not earlier in the week? Wednesday was the Prime Geek and I's 3rd wedding anniversary. Use your imagination!) but I do want to pop up a few links to articles that have my brain itching a tad. I'd love to know what other people think...
http://www.seriouseats.com/talk/2010/01/how-do-you-eat-for-a-week-for-50.html
and
http://glutenfreegirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/eating-on-18-day.html
There IS a crisis in our country regarding food, availability, health, etc. Food banks are empty, some are closing, people are having to make hard choices about what bills to pay and how to keep their families fed.
That being said - with more and more bloggers, reporters, heck governmental figures getting in on the fun - all outlining their extraordinary extremes they have to go to manage on "tiny sums" to feed themselves for a week (I suppose one week of eating lentils is supposed to translate to becoming the common man)... I'm left a little confused.
The Prime Geek and I eat quite a bit of local food. Lots of fresh. Almost 75% of our meat is local AND grassfed. Heck - we also eat gluten free now, since my diagnosis of celiac. We're not hungry, we're not lacking, and we certainly don't suffer from any lack of variety or even treats - and our weekly grocery budget?
$50 a week.
For both of us.
Together.
All meals - I even pack the Prime Geek's lunch.
Now. I'm lucky. I work from home. I don't have kids (and the resulting crazy scheduling that comes with). I can take the time to source the best prices/quality, shop multiple stores, and have pretty varied and adventurous tastes when it comes to food. I also live in Northern Ohio - which while I'll crab about the weather (we looking at negative degrees with the wind today. It's a fair crab.) has a GREAT cost of living going for it. Lots of farms, lots of food. Low prices, jobs rebuilding... so I can understand a large amount of lucky happenstance (or rather, extremely detailed planning - according to the PG.) coming into play.
But there seems a severe disconnect somewhere. Eating on "just" xx a day keeps hitting the news... but that isn't how we eat/live. Today is connected to choices made last week, plans made for next month. I understand the emergency minded "What do we do to eat NOW" line of thinking. Really, I do. But I am left wondering if by pushing the far more sensational (and therefore sexier to our media eye) and extreme... we're building generations who WILL continue to suffer and be hungry because we never talk about the more prosaic "what can we do today... to eat next week?"
Friday, January 29, 2010
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Dusty
Wow. You leave a tiny corner of the web alone for 10+ months, and the dust and cobwebs start to stack up!
I'm not sure if I AM restarting this blog, if it will stay in the same vein or take an entirely new track through the morass of my back brain. I DO know that writing is becoming rather important to me again - so there is that.
It's... been a hard year. A really hard year. What started out as a bit of an annoyance, soon turned into a cluster###@. And if the language implied seems a bit much, well - 6 months of dying without realizing it, the sudden "Oh. So THAT'S why I feel like crap. Huh." and the last several months of trying to crawl my way back out makes for a less than stellar year.
Started a bit simply, as these things often do. After years of various "stomach issues", I finally got an answer. Celiac. Yup... no more whole wheat rolls, real pizza, or beer for this gal. (The loss beer I can survive. I'm more of a whiskey sipper than a beer drinker, anway.) Years of playing in the kitchen - and I suddenly am right back to beginner status as I try to relearn how to feed myself AND the Prime Geek.
Not too bad, really. A new diet - which helped pull about 50+ pounds off my 6'2 frame, so, bonus really - isn't the end of the world.
But than... well. It all went pear shaped. As folks might remember, we heat Casa de Nerd with a woodburning soapstone stove. Woodburner = need for wood = spending vast amounts of time tromping in the forest.
Which would be where I got chewed upon most thoroughly by several brown recluse spiders. That went septic. And than caused shingles. (I've broken things, ripped things, stepped on sharp things, even live pretty easily with a heart issue that means it occasionally gets bored and stops for a moment. Car accidents, physical attacks, and other fun times. Shingles is the first thing in my life that made me rock back and forth sobbing in pain as the primate in the back of my brain realized that nope, sorry, it would appear the Oxy isn't actually going to do anything. So as a side note from your friendly Nerd? Get thy assets to the doctor and ask nicely but firmly to be jabbed in the butt with the shingles vaccine. Now. Unless you like the feeling of being burned alive while beaten with electrical wires.)
Beat that back finally - a few scars that will take a while to fade, a tendency to panic if I happen upon an 8-legged critter (I now react rather like a 1950's sitcom housewife when she discovers a mouse in the kitchen. There is screaming, flailing, and a general need to vacate NOW! Extreme? Perhaps. But the two fingers on my right hand that are still a bit numb and weak and the quarter sized scars say its also extremely understandable.*) and I was still sick. Round after round of fevers following round after round of antibiotics. No clue as to where the misery was coming from - just sick.
Until my head exploded. Popped right off my spine and rolled under the table.
Alright. Fine. I exaggerate. It just felt like it had. And possibly would have been preferable. Alien Possession? Brain tumor? Nope. Just my THIRD set of wisdom teeth coming in - having been damaged by the incompetent idiot who frelled up my SECOND set when he yanked them - and rotting where no one could see them. Freaked the emergency care oral surgeon RIGHT out.**
Rather surreal to be told by a gray faced dentist that if you hadn't started hurting, that if it had fallen the other way and simply killed the nerves so nothing was felt... the next thing to happen (and quickly) would have been systemic organ failure. Which a body that had been battling infection for 8 months really wouldn't have had much of a shot at fighting off. So, yeah. On the up side, I finally stopped beating myself up for being so lazy and out of shape that just getting dressed made me tired enough to nap. I suppose I should be grateful that my sense of humor is odd enough that my first reaction was laughter (only mildly hysteric) when I contemplated the possible epitaph of "Here lies The Nerd - Done Wrong by a Dentist". Death by wisdom teeth. Just... doesn't seem that smart really.
Which brings us to now. Better - but whomped. Pretty completely. Have to take things slow... which is making me nuts. But at least I'm here. Mostly. Perhaps. We'll see. I suppose the question is two fold: Do I still have things to say here? And maybe more importantly... is there anyone else out there who wants to hear it?
We'll see.
* As a slight warning to my friends who may think it funny to yell "spider!" and watch me twitch? Please do remember... when I panic, I tend to punch. And no, I won't feel bad about it after.
** One of these days I'm going to have to write up that encounter... I'm not sure who was more upset - me or the dentist. As it was an emergency squeeze in, he couldn't do his standard procedure - iv sedatives and a quiet job. To have an Amazon keep insisting he do the job with just novacaine seemed to put him off his game a tad. FOURTEEN shots in the mouth, and he kept insisting we didn't have to do this. Really. Honest. No one would think badly of me - they'd give me scripts for painkillers and we could do it in two days. Please. I just wanted it DONE - but I think he must have thought I was a hardcore case.
I'm not sure if I AM restarting this blog, if it will stay in the same vein or take an entirely new track through the morass of my back brain. I DO know that writing is becoming rather important to me again - so there is that.
It's... been a hard year. A really hard year. What started out as a bit of an annoyance, soon turned into a cluster###@. And if the language implied seems a bit much, well - 6 months of dying without realizing it, the sudden "Oh. So THAT'S why I feel like crap. Huh." and the last several months of trying to crawl my way back out makes for a less than stellar year.
Started a bit simply, as these things often do. After years of various "stomach issues", I finally got an answer. Celiac. Yup... no more whole wheat rolls, real pizza, or beer for this gal. (The loss beer I can survive. I'm more of a whiskey sipper than a beer drinker, anway.) Years of playing in the kitchen - and I suddenly am right back to beginner status as I try to relearn how to feed myself AND the Prime Geek.
Not too bad, really. A new diet - which helped pull about 50+ pounds off my 6'2 frame, so, bonus really - isn't the end of the world.
But than... well. It all went pear shaped. As folks might remember, we heat Casa de Nerd with a woodburning soapstone stove. Woodburner = need for wood = spending vast amounts of time tromping in the forest.
Which would be where I got chewed upon most thoroughly by several brown recluse spiders. That went septic. And than caused shingles. (I've broken things, ripped things, stepped on sharp things, even live pretty easily with a heart issue that means it occasionally gets bored and stops for a moment. Car accidents, physical attacks, and other fun times. Shingles is the first thing in my life that made me rock back and forth sobbing in pain as the primate in the back of my brain realized that nope, sorry, it would appear the Oxy isn't actually going to do anything. So as a side note from your friendly Nerd? Get thy assets to the doctor and ask nicely but firmly to be jabbed in the butt with the shingles vaccine. Now. Unless you like the feeling of being burned alive while beaten with electrical wires.)
Beat that back finally - a few scars that will take a while to fade, a tendency to panic if I happen upon an 8-legged critter (I now react rather like a 1950's sitcom housewife when she discovers a mouse in the kitchen. There is screaming, flailing, and a general need to vacate NOW! Extreme? Perhaps. But the two fingers on my right hand that are still a bit numb and weak and the quarter sized scars say its also extremely understandable.*) and I was still sick. Round after round of fevers following round after round of antibiotics. No clue as to where the misery was coming from - just sick.
Until my head exploded. Popped right off my spine and rolled under the table.
Alright. Fine. I exaggerate. It just felt like it had. And possibly would have been preferable. Alien Possession? Brain tumor? Nope. Just my THIRD set of wisdom teeth coming in - having been damaged by the incompetent idiot who frelled up my SECOND set when he yanked them - and rotting where no one could see them. Freaked the emergency care oral surgeon RIGHT out.**
Rather surreal to be told by a gray faced dentist that if you hadn't started hurting, that if it had fallen the other way and simply killed the nerves so nothing was felt... the next thing to happen (and quickly) would have been systemic organ failure. Which a body that had been battling infection for 8 months really wouldn't have had much of a shot at fighting off. So, yeah. On the up side, I finally stopped beating myself up for being so lazy and out of shape that just getting dressed made me tired enough to nap. I suppose I should be grateful that my sense of humor is odd enough that my first reaction was laughter (only mildly hysteric) when I contemplated the possible epitaph of "Here lies The Nerd - Done Wrong by a Dentist". Death by wisdom teeth. Just... doesn't seem that smart really.
Which brings us to now. Better - but whomped. Pretty completely. Have to take things slow... which is making me nuts. But at least I'm here. Mostly. Perhaps. We'll see. I suppose the question is two fold: Do I still have things to say here? And maybe more importantly... is there anyone else out there who wants to hear it?
We'll see.
* As a slight warning to my friends who may think it funny to yell "spider!" and watch me twitch? Please do remember... when I panic, I tend to punch. And no, I won't feel bad about it after.
** One of these days I'm going to have to write up that encounter... I'm not sure who was more upset - me or the dentist. As it was an emergency squeeze in, he couldn't do his standard procedure - iv sedatives and a quiet job. To have an Amazon keep insisting he do the job with just novacaine seemed to put him off his game a tad. FOURTEEN shots in the mouth, and he kept insisting we didn't have to do this. Really. Honest. No one would think badly of me - they'd give me scripts for painkillers and we could do it in two days. Please. I just wanted it DONE - but I think he must have thought I was a hardcore case.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Crap
This... isn't a normal post. Nothing contained within is environmentally based. No tips, tricks, or funny stories. Instead... well. A tumble of thought gyrating around in my badly bruised brain – perhaps a way to exorcise a mental demon, and maybe a cultural question or two.
Today's plans have gone a little bit askew, originally this nerd was going to head out with her geek and see a movie that he's been waiting less than patiently for. Now that Star Wars is over, and it will be a while before the next Batman wanders down the path – his big movie moment is the new flick Watchmen, based on the graphic novels of the same name.
I'll grant you as a nerd, my tastes tend to run more towards the elven and trollish rather than the spandex-clad mask wearing heroes of the comics. I know most of the story lines - at least the broad strokes, but it isn't really my “thang”. I enjoyed X-men (hello nurse... I mean Wolverine), Hellboy tickled my fancy – no doubt due to the large element of fantasy within – but Batman and Superman never really grabbed my attention. But, the Prime Geek DOES love the dark-hero genre... and as I love him, well. I resign myself to the odd overly brooding masked avenger and amuse myself with popcorn and the odd snicker over a overly emphasized set of silicon pecs.
But – I don't like going into movies blind, either. So, a bit of my afternoon was spent trawling the internet for spoilers and info about what I was about to blow 2 hours of my life watching (and if I should pack my light-at-the-tips knitting needles... just in case). Rather to my shock and growing horror... one thing kept popping out of review after review. One... word, in fact.
Rape. Over and over. Apparently a graphic flashback of two of the main characters are included in the movie – a rape (or attempted, views vary), followed in time by a child and the eventual consensual sex between the victim and her attacker. Well. That makes it alright then. The attack must have just been a misunderstanding. Perhaps just a bad first date...
?!?!?!!?
I'm sorry. No. This isn't okay, its not “dramatic tension” its not “plot development”. It isn't a “pivotal character movement”. It's rape. Its brutal. Its terrible. Its painful. Its scarring...
I should know.
I'm getting so sick and tired of this same old tired piece of creative laziness – you have to break a character down? Fine. Prove you are enough of a writer that you don't have to go for the easy nut-shot in a fight. Its a cheat. And... its dangerous. There is no “happily ever after” in rape. There is no “redemption and friendship – perhaps even love...” between a rape victim and their attacker. Don't tell me how the “savageness of his act, and the shock of how far he's fallen” forces a character to grow. Bullshit.
The only growth I'm interested in is that of the tree growing out of his grave.
Harsh? Yeah. And in all honesty – a pretty mild version of the foaming out of the mouth, profanity laden initial reaction. We're living in a world where a young performer is beaten without mercy by her boyfriend... and the world lines up to list all the ways “she had it coming.” And “yeah... he was wrong, but she probably provoked it.” The kind of mentality that can accept this type of “entertainment” baffles me. This is so far beyond... I'm sorry. Its simple what it is. It's evil. It's wrong. You don't get to be a hero and you don't get sympathy.
Can a rapist be forgiven? Perhaps. I try. But they don't get play time in their walk to right the wrongs they did. And they definitely shouldn't get an action figure.
This type of nonsense just makes the perpetrator the victim and the victim a harsh lesson they needed to grow.
If the only way you can make a plot point is this.... you're a pretty pitiful writer.
And a bit of a pathetic human being as well.
Today's plans have gone a little bit askew, originally this nerd was going to head out with her geek and see a movie that he's been waiting less than patiently for. Now that Star Wars is over, and it will be a while before the next Batman wanders down the path – his big movie moment is the new flick Watchmen, based on the graphic novels of the same name.
I'll grant you as a nerd, my tastes tend to run more towards the elven and trollish rather than the spandex-clad mask wearing heroes of the comics. I know most of the story lines - at least the broad strokes, but it isn't really my “thang”. I enjoyed X-men (hello nurse... I mean Wolverine), Hellboy tickled my fancy – no doubt due to the large element of fantasy within – but Batman and Superman never really grabbed my attention. But, the Prime Geek DOES love the dark-hero genre... and as I love him, well. I resign myself to the odd overly brooding masked avenger and amuse myself with popcorn and the odd snicker over a overly emphasized set of silicon pecs.
But – I don't like going into movies blind, either. So, a bit of my afternoon was spent trawling the internet for spoilers and info about what I was about to blow 2 hours of my life watching (and if I should pack my light-at-the-tips knitting needles... just in case). Rather to my shock and growing horror... one thing kept popping out of review after review. One... word, in fact.
Rape. Over and over. Apparently a graphic flashback of two of the main characters are included in the movie – a rape (or attempted, views vary), followed in time by a child and the eventual consensual sex between the victim and her attacker. Well. That makes it alright then. The attack must have just been a misunderstanding. Perhaps just a bad first date...
?!?!?!!?
I'm sorry. No. This isn't okay, its not “dramatic tension” its not “plot development”. It isn't a “pivotal character movement”. It's rape. Its brutal. Its terrible. Its painful. Its scarring...
I should know.
I'm getting so sick and tired of this same old tired piece of creative laziness – you have to break a character down? Fine. Prove you are enough of a writer that you don't have to go for the easy nut-shot in a fight. Its a cheat. And... its dangerous. There is no “happily ever after” in rape. There is no “redemption and friendship – perhaps even love...” between a rape victim and their attacker. Don't tell me how the “savageness of his act, and the shock of how far he's fallen” forces a character to grow. Bullshit.
The only growth I'm interested in is that of the tree growing out of his grave.
Harsh? Yeah. And in all honesty – a pretty mild version of the foaming out of the mouth, profanity laden initial reaction. We're living in a world where a young performer is beaten without mercy by her boyfriend... and the world lines up to list all the ways “she had it coming.” And “yeah... he was wrong, but she probably provoked it.” The kind of mentality that can accept this type of “entertainment” baffles me. This is so far beyond... I'm sorry. Its simple what it is. It's evil. It's wrong. You don't get to be a hero and you don't get sympathy.
Can a rapist be forgiven? Perhaps. I try. But they don't get play time in their walk to right the wrongs they did. And they definitely shouldn't get an action figure.
This type of nonsense just makes the perpetrator the victim and the victim a harsh lesson they needed to grow.
If the only way you can make a plot point is this.... you're a pretty pitiful writer.
And a bit of a pathetic human being as well.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Really? I mean... Really?
I've been trying to write about all the plans and plans within plans that are finally starting to leave the paper and pen stage and actually peeking their heads out into reality for the longest time... but I'm stuck on one article I read over the weekend, and I just CANNOT get it out of my winter weary brainpan. Perhaps if I share it with you, I'll finally be able to let my incredulity and disbelief go – and get back to more important things like gardening plans, the house changes, and what in the world am I going to do with 500+ yards of fabric draped around my office! (You think that's a lot of fabric? We're not even going to talk about the yarn stash right now.)
Fine. Right then. Over the weekend, the New York Times decided to shed a little light to all us unfeeling peons out in the world who don't understand that the current economy is hard for every... but maybe just a teeny tiny bit harder for the wealthy amongst us to bear without some serious handouts.
For either a chuckle... or an urge to bash a head (yours, or someone else's, the choice is your own) take a moment and head over to their webpage and read the article regarding the perils of attempting to survive on a mere $500,000.
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/08/fashion/08halfmill.html?_r=2 Go ahead... I'll be here. Take your time... I'm still rocketing between giggles and incredulity.
You back? Well? What do you think? Time to run a tellathon to keep those brave lads and lasses in Brooks Brothers and Chanel? I'm torn over the article really (as the fact I've talked about it to – my mother, my husband, 7 forums I belong to, several friends, the mailman, and a guy just trying to pick out grapefruit at the grocery can attest.... its sticking in my head and will not dislodge) I can't decide if the NYT has a secret cabal of writers who are huge French Revolution buffs and they are attempting a sociological experiment to see exactly what it takes to work the common man into a frenzy and start sharpening their guillotines.... or we're just really that far outta touch with the reality of our world's situation. You have to have $16,000 vacations – or you can't keep your head up at work? That $32,000 spent each year on your fourth grader's schooling really isn't enough to help them pass, they need another $3,000+ to make it through the multiplication table?
$450 every 10 days on groceries.
Really.
And here I've been making do on $250. A month.
Don't get me wrong – I'm a fan of capitalism. I like to buy my goodies... I have my little luxuries and treats, I've got bills to pay and debts to honor. You work hard and make the money – you've earned the right to buy what you want when you want, HOW you want. I truly believe that.
But... but...
Really?
People in our country are wondering if they are going to be able to feed their kids tonight... and you wanna whine about how you have to keep up appearances?
You don't have to care about other people. You don't have to volunteer, give back, or even give a flipping tinker's damn about the rest of the world.
Just....
Don't be tacky about it. Don't tell me I can't understand the issues you have and expect me to keep a straight face. Don't whine and whinge that it's a hard life being rich and powerful. Come on folks... at this exact moment in history – I really don't want to view the corporate heads of our economy as Paris Hilton with a combover.
Now if you'll pardon me, I'll just be over here in the corner googling how to build a guillotines.
Tomorrow?
I plant things! (And get far too excited about the prospect of seeing green things again.)
Friday, January 30, 2009
Time to Stop Hoping for Change
As I start to brush the cobwebs off of my brain, my blog, AND my life – I find myself walking into this new year, already chaffing under the constant yelping of Hope/Change! from folks still embroiled in inauguration fervor.
No matter a person's politics... I'm finding I'm not alone in this. Whether you voted for our new president or not, there IS something rather special about knowing our country has its first black president – and that's a HUGE reason to hope, and a giant step for change... but as the weeks have rolled by, I'm tired of the slogan. I'm tired of what I see it beginning to represent.
Hope is great. Change is needed... but its time to stop patting yourself on the back and congratulating yourself with platitudes and a repetitive sound bite.
I don't want to hope for change. I don't want my LEADERS to hope for change. There seems to be this feeling amongst voters now the election is over and the new man is settling into the White House that the work is now done. Time to have President Obama click his heels and settle us into the new world we have dreamed of.
It doesn't work that way.... and while the President seems to be a natty dresser, my brain tends to blink at the thought of him wearing ruby slippers. The time for hoping it will all be better in the morning is over. The time now... is to BE the change. Everyday, every step. Do the work that will END in changes becoming a new reality. Step chanting a rather annoying catchphrase, and let's get to work.
As for me? I'm sliding my winter weary brain back into my writing shoes and will be seeing where I want to take this blog, my life... and my own reality. I'll confess to feeling a tad stagnant and stupefied, penned in by weather and worries... but I'm ready for a change. More to the point – I'm ready to Work to the Change. Wanna come along?
PS – Could someone please whisper in our commander and chief's ear that if he really want to grow a garden, dig one outside the White House and plant some spinach. Leave the orchid raising for Hawaii... and turn down the heat. Mocking the fair weather nature of schools in your district over a little snow while wandering around in a huge building with the heat ratcheted up makes you look a wee bit outta touch with your own platform. Just sayin.....
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
The Bunny Bounces Once Again
Late in updating, but the holiday season madness has laid waste to my good intentions. The Bunny is once again bounding around the house - a little bit gimpy still in her back leg, but well on the road to recovery. Vitamin E, an extra humidifier going, and a really really good scrub to all the floors just in case and she seems to be mending well. We're still at a loss over how it happened, all our girls are housebound and she stays well away from the woodburner.
Thanks so much for the kind thoughts and well-wishes for our furry child.
Off to dive back into the Christmas Crazy - is it almost over?
Pretty please?
All I can say is, I'm glad we're doing a tiny Christmas this year - people are just NUTS when it comes to the holidays. It's enough to make the jolliest elf throw up their hands and yell Bah Humbug!
Thanks so much for the kind thoughts and well-wishes for our furry child.
Off to dive back into the Christmas Crazy - is it almost over?
Pretty please?
All I can say is, I'm glad we're doing a tiny Christmas this year - people are just NUTS when it comes to the holidays. It's enough to make the jolliest elf throw up their hands and yell Bah Humbug!
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Pet Owners... Help?
Not what I had planned posting tonight – that will go up tomorrow afternoon – but I'm running outta ideas here and am hoping some smart reader can help this worried nerd.
We have four furry children. Now, I'm nowhere near as nutty as my mother-in-law (one day, I'll let the world in on some of her endearing but surreal behavior regarding the fuzzier denizens of the world) about cats... but I am pretty fond of the furballs. We've been really blessed regarding their health. Other than the normal wear and tear: the occasional hairball, upset tummies (and the resulting ick) from snarfing their food too fast, and the recovery time from their little reproductive snips – they're the healthiest things in the house.
But now... Bunny* has the Prime Geek and I worried sick. Our littlest furball has somehow managed to dry out the pads of her feet to the point they are cracked, peeling, and bleeding – causing her to limp around when she has to move, and lay like a rug the rest of the day. I've taken her to the vet and run up against a sad truth – our amazing vet (sick and out of the office for the next three months) has been replaced by an idiot. Once he determined nothing was broken, I was told :
“Well, she must have gotten into one of your cleaning products....”
I only use natural stuff. I can drink what I use – nasty tasting, but harmless.
“Then it must be your carpets got her paws irriated....”
Wooden floors.
“Well, sometimes it happens and if you want to try and fix it, I'd suggest trying.”
Ummmmmm.... yeah. Love to – he gave no help though. That was literally all this moron said – if you want to try and fix it, I'd suggest trying to. Wow. That's just... wow.
I'm dosing her little pads with vitamin E and olive oil, I've got the humidifier cranked to “London Fog”, and have been ratcheting up the cuddles to high. We know it's not a burn - so the wood burner is out as a culprit. Litterboxes - cleaned daily and its the same old stuff. I'm outta thoughts here.
Any other ideas on how to get our meekest baby better quick? I gotta tell you, her little squeeks when I “operate” on her toes is starting to make my stomach knot.
Help this Kitty Momma?
*She has a “real” respectable name – Artemis. But due to her timid nature, her fear of daylight, and her tiny fangs... she quickly became our Bunnicula.
We have four furry children. Now, I'm nowhere near as nutty as my mother-in-law (one day, I'll let the world in on some of her endearing but surreal behavior regarding the fuzzier denizens of the world) about cats... but I am pretty fond of the furballs. We've been really blessed regarding their health. Other than the normal wear and tear: the occasional hairball, upset tummies (and the resulting ick) from snarfing their food too fast, and the recovery time from their little reproductive snips – they're the healthiest things in the house.
But now... Bunny* has the Prime Geek and I worried sick. Our littlest furball has somehow managed to dry out the pads of her feet to the point they are cracked, peeling, and bleeding – causing her to limp around when she has to move, and lay like a rug the rest of the day. I've taken her to the vet and run up against a sad truth – our amazing vet (sick and out of the office for the next three months) has been replaced by an idiot. Once he determined nothing was broken, I was told :
“Well, she must have gotten into one of your cleaning products....”
I only use natural stuff. I can drink what I use – nasty tasting, but harmless.
“Then it must be your carpets got her paws irriated....”
Wooden floors.
“Well, sometimes it happens and if you want to try and fix it, I'd suggest trying.”
Ummmmmm.... yeah. Love to – he gave no help though. That was literally all this moron said – if you want to try and fix it, I'd suggest trying to. Wow. That's just... wow.
I'm dosing her little pads with vitamin E and olive oil, I've got the humidifier cranked to “London Fog”, and have been ratcheting up the cuddles to high. We know it's not a burn - so the wood burner is out as a culprit. Litterboxes - cleaned daily and its the same old stuff. I'm outta thoughts here.
Any other ideas on how to get our meekest baby better quick? I gotta tell you, her little squeeks when I “operate” on her toes is starting to make my stomach knot.
Help this Kitty Momma?
*She has a “real” respectable name – Artemis. But due to her timid nature, her fear of daylight, and her tiny fangs... she quickly became our Bunnicula.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Life Saver
One day, if the fates are ever cruel... a very strange sight may meet the eyes of some hardworking firemen. Should tragedy strike, and our house go up in flames... well. I know my dear Prime Geek will get himself safely out of the building. Our furry children? Folks will understand our taking the time to ensure their whiskers get no more than singed – not charred. But what will confuse the lads (and ladies) in their dashing rubber pants will be the sight of a ash-covered woman – frantically trying to unmake her bed and wrestle her mattress pad out to safety with the rest of the family. Take my computer, my yarn stash*, my books**, but leave me my electric mattress pad!
Why am I spending a Sunday afternoon writing a love ode to a bunch of heated coils and some thin polyester? Simple. It's saving my pocketbook, my extremities, and very possibly my marriage. Allow me to explain.
The pocketbook is easy enough – through the modern marvel that IS Francois (re: weird habit I have for naming the objects in my life. As long as I don't go out in public with my underwear on my head, this small aspect of insanity is harmless. Judge not!) we are saving serious cash each and every cold month. Far cheaper to run than an electric heater, this little bundle of joy keeps my bed at a roasty toasty even keel... even when the bedroom itself is cold enough to generate icicles from the eaves. (Or at least a serious sheen of ice on the inside of our windows.) With the woodburner banked for the night downstairs, the electric mattress pad is our only source of heat in the upstairs. Proof its worth its weight in gold?
Our last gas bill (and with the wind chill, this part of the country is ducking into single and negative digits most nights) was a hefty – $32.50.
Impressive, yes? But that's not all my beloved bedroom buddy is doing for me nightly***, no no. You see... not only is our bedroom a wee bit chilly come nightfall, I have a slight problem with my circulation. Just a tiny little issue with being cold. Just a small... oh hades. Let's be honest here. I can lower the temperature of steaming bathwater with a single toe dip. I have to wait ten minutes after I shave to try getting dressed, simply because it takes that long to discover if I've cut my legs or not. It took my parents until I was 15 to realize a fever was the only way for me to achieve a “normal” temperature. Added to this – I have a severe case of monkey toes. You know... the ability to use my toes to grip and hold objects? Handy when I have to pick up a sock when my hands are full with a laundry basket... useful when climbing trees barefoot (something my mother wishes her nearing thirty year old daughter would give up, but it probably isn't happening this lifetime)... but not so much a good thing when coupled with a few other life facts. Like the ice cold feet I have. And the fact the Prime Geek is a blast furnace. And the fact we both have to sleep sometime. And that cold feet will burrow and travel great lengths to find nooks and crannies of warmth – completely without the knowledge of my working brain, might I add. Toss the whole ability to grip... and well. Once my dear husband stopped shrieking and flailing about, it was a week before he'd sleep with me again. We still wrap up in separate sheets because of that little incident. So to have my bed constantly radiating warmth helps me keep my limbs intact from threats of hypothermia induced gangrene ... and the threat of being hatcheted off by my desperately covering his shivering manhood husband.
Which leads me to my last reason for loving my mattress pad. The saving of my marriage. You see, I'm not the only one in this partnership with a few sleeping issues. The reason my feet got so frigid that fateful night had just as much to do with a certain bad habit of his. No one warns you before you link your life with someone to fully explore their personal tendencies – no one whispers “Hey, watch him sleep before you agree to the next 60+ years of bedside behavior”. You think about snoring, or talking in their sleep. You wonder about what side of the bed you are agreeing to stick to through thick and thin. But it never even crossed my mind to consider he might be....
A wrapper. AND a spinner. Shameless about it too. We may have started out those early nights with equal bedding, but it never lasted long. Yeah, an electric blanket is nifty... but it doesn't do you much good when it's completely cocooned around the body of your hibernating spouse. By three in the morning I would be shivering under nothing more than a sheet and one lone sock – staring resentfully at the snoring body of my blanket snatching husband. Gentle nudges garnered me nothing. Pulling and tugging just caused him to burrow deeper into his nest. One night in desperation, I pulled my robe off the floor and snuggled my feet under it in an effort to last until morning – only to be awakened by the sudden yank as it was stripped off my slowly bluing toes and absorbed into his warm shroud. Night after night found me struggling to remember I loved this Geek... and would regret smothering him with my pillow in the morning. Probably. Most likely. Presumably.
And then? Hark, the Angels! (Well, my mother anyway.) A present that saved my feet, my pocketbook, and my life outside of prison – my electric mattress pad. Constant radiating warmth – no matter how many blankets my ever loving spouse may steal. Ahhh... true bliss.
Now excuse me, does anyone know what insurance company I should talk to insure my little buddy?
Night folks.****
* That one stings a bit.
** Okay, a gut shot to think of that going bye-bye
*** I honestly didn't intend for that to sound like I was about to extol the virtues of a battery-powered pal there....
**** A little silly to ignore the stresses of the holiday season. I'll be greener in the morning. Althought, this IS on topic, mostly. Less gas heat = lighter carbon footprint = happier planet! See, I CAN wrap anything back to that if I try!
Why am I spending a Sunday afternoon writing a love ode to a bunch of heated coils and some thin polyester? Simple. It's saving my pocketbook, my extremities, and very possibly my marriage. Allow me to explain.
The pocketbook is easy enough – through the modern marvel that IS Francois (re: weird habit I have for naming the objects in my life. As long as I don't go out in public with my underwear on my head, this small aspect of insanity is harmless. Judge not!) we are saving serious cash each and every cold month. Far cheaper to run than an electric heater, this little bundle of joy keeps my bed at a roasty toasty even keel... even when the bedroom itself is cold enough to generate icicles from the eaves. (Or at least a serious sheen of ice on the inside of our windows.) With the woodburner banked for the night downstairs, the electric mattress pad is our only source of heat in the upstairs. Proof its worth its weight in gold?
Our last gas bill (and with the wind chill, this part of the country is ducking into single and negative digits most nights) was a hefty – $32.50.
Impressive, yes? But that's not all my beloved bedroom buddy is doing for me nightly***, no no. You see... not only is our bedroom a wee bit chilly come nightfall, I have a slight problem with my circulation. Just a tiny little issue with being cold. Just a small... oh hades. Let's be honest here. I can lower the temperature of steaming bathwater with a single toe dip. I have to wait ten minutes after I shave to try getting dressed, simply because it takes that long to discover if I've cut my legs or not. It took my parents until I was 15 to realize a fever was the only way for me to achieve a “normal” temperature. Added to this – I have a severe case of monkey toes. You know... the ability to use my toes to grip and hold objects? Handy when I have to pick up a sock when my hands are full with a laundry basket... useful when climbing trees barefoot (something my mother wishes her nearing thirty year old daughter would give up, but it probably isn't happening this lifetime)... but not so much a good thing when coupled with a few other life facts. Like the ice cold feet I have. And the fact the Prime Geek is a blast furnace. And the fact we both have to sleep sometime. And that cold feet will burrow and travel great lengths to find nooks and crannies of warmth – completely without the knowledge of my working brain, might I add. Toss the whole ability to grip... and well. Once my dear husband stopped shrieking and flailing about, it was a week before he'd sleep with me again. We still wrap up in separate sheets because of that little incident. So to have my bed constantly radiating warmth helps me keep my limbs intact from threats of hypothermia induced gangrene ... and the threat of being hatcheted off by my desperately covering his shivering manhood husband.
Which leads me to my last reason for loving my mattress pad. The saving of my marriage. You see, I'm not the only one in this partnership with a few sleeping issues. The reason my feet got so frigid that fateful night had just as much to do with a certain bad habit of his. No one warns you before you link your life with someone to fully explore their personal tendencies – no one whispers “Hey, watch him sleep before you agree to the next 60+ years of bedside behavior”. You think about snoring, or talking in their sleep. You wonder about what side of the bed you are agreeing to stick to through thick and thin. But it never even crossed my mind to consider he might be....
A wrapper. AND a spinner. Shameless about it too. We may have started out those early nights with equal bedding, but it never lasted long. Yeah, an electric blanket is nifty... but it doesn't do you much good when it's completely cocooned around the body of your hibernating spouse. By three in the morning I would be shivering under nothing more than a sheet and one lone sock – staring resentfully at the snoring body of my blanket snatching husband. Gentle nudges garnered me nothing. Pulling and tugging just caused him to burrow deeper into his nest. One night in desperation, I pulled my robe off the floor and snuggled my feet under it in an effort to last until morning – only to be awakened by the sudden yank as it was stripped off my slowly bluing toes and absorbed into his warm shroud. Night after night found me struggling to remember I loved this Geek... and would regret smothering him with my pillow in the morning. Probably. Most likely. Presumably.
And then? Hark, the Angels! (Well, my mother anyway.) A present that saved my feet, my pocketbook, and my life outside of prison – my electric mattress pad. Constant radiating warmth – no matter how many blankets my ever loving spouse may steal. Ahhh... true bliss.
Now excuse me, does anyone know what insurance company I should talk to insure my little buddy?
Night folks.****
* That one stings a bit.
** Okay, a gut shot to think of that going bye-bye
*** I honestly didn't intend for that to sound like I was about to extol the virtues of a battery-powered pal there....
**** A little silly to ignore the stresses of the holiday season. I'll be greener in the morning. Althought, this IS on topic, mostly. Less gas heat = lighter carbon footprint = happier planet! See, I CAN wrap anything back to that if I try!
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Thanks for the (Cheap!) Bird
Well, its almost time to trot out the elastic waist pants and the company lounging pajamas – Thanksgiving time is here again.
I'm thankful for many things at the moment : a slowly (but finally) getting healthy family, a home that's staying warm and toasty without needing to sell blood to pay the gas company, and I'm thankful for the fact that this Thanksgiving the Prime Geek and I only have to trek to ONE family for the yearly gorge (for 5 years we've done double duty – my parents for an early lunch followed by a trek down to his aunt's place for a late lunch, then a 3+ hour drive through a turkey coma back home.) I'm thankful my sister in law is surviving her 3rd pregnancy with only moderate discomfort. I'm thankful for my husband, my parents, my friends. And... I'm thankful for cheap turkeys.
By this point in my greening battles, our meat is 75% locally/humanly/cleanly/they all get together daily to sing Koom Ba Ya while they get their daily cuddles from fresh faced young milkmaids raised and butchered. Inherent snarkiness aside, it does matter to me where my food comes from and how it got there. The one place we fall down, and fall down HARD is turkey. Once a year the sales all hit, and my pocketbook begins to yell a bit louder than my naturally nerdy tendencies. I'd love to buy local turkeys, gently raised – but have you PRICED the suckers lately? Unless they are coming to me wrapped in gold with promises to cure cancer while granting amazing carnal bliss to whosoever devours them, I don't have the ability to drop $60+ on what might be the dimmest animal on the planet. (I'll admit more than a slight concern over the fact I'm eating an animal too stupid and fat to get its own jollies without outside help.)
So – its a mad dash at Thanksgiving to greedily acquire all the turkey we may need for the rest of the year. I have whole turkeys in the freezer, turkeys dismantled into bits then vacuum sealed, broth simmering as it waits to be canned, and a ongoing search for the perfect turkey jerky. At $0.69 a pound... can you blame me for being thankful? Between these birds and the half a cow nestled into my freezer, I'm set for meat for a year. And with grocery prices soaring... I'm pretty darn thankful.
Have a great Thanksgiving everyone. Be safe, and love those you're with.
A small aside before I start packing – no matter your political affiliation, (and everyone who knows me knows there were plenty of things I didn't like about her - from religion to how she insisted on mugging for the camera) if you're sitting down to a turkey dinner this year with family – STOP BELLYACHING ABOUT THE PALIN PRESS CONFERENCE! Sheesh folks, what did you think happened to get those birds on your table? Depressed turkeys ending it all by locking themselves into the garage with a running motor? To every reporter wearing leather shoes, to any pundit fighting over a drumstick – grow up. This is a women who field dresses elk, why be surprised that she doesn't faint at the sight of a dead bird?
I'm thankful for many things at the moment : a slowly (but finally) getting healthy family, a home that's staying warm and toasty without needing to sell blood to pay the gas company, and I'm thankful for the fact that this Thanksgiving the Prime Geek and I only have to trek to ONE family for the yearly gorge (for 5 years we've done double duty – my parents for an early lunch followed by a trek down to his aunt's place for a late lunch, then a 3+ hour drive through a turkey coma back home.) I'm thankful my sister in law is surviving her 3rd pregnancy with only moderate discomfort. I'm thankful for my husband, my parents, my friends. And... I'm thankful for cheap turkeys.
By this point in my greening battles, our meat is 75% locally/humanly/cleanly/they all get together daily to sing Koom Ba Ya while they get their daily cuddles from fresh faced young milkmaids raised and butchered. Inherent snarkiness aside, it does matter to me where my food comes from and how it got there. The one place we fall down, and fall down HARD is turkey. Once a year the sales all hit, and my pocketbook begins to yell a bit louder than my naturally nerdy tendencies. I'd love to buy local turkeys, gently raised – but have you PRICED the suckers lately? Unless they are coming to me wrapped in gold with promises to cure cancer while granting amazing carnal bliss to whosoever devours them, I don't have the ability to drop $60+ on what might be the dimmest animal on the planet. (I'll admit more than a slight concern over the fact I'm eating an animal too stupid and fat to get its own jollies without outside help.)
So – its a mad dash at Thanksgiving to greedily acquire all the turkey we may need for the rest of the year. I have whole turkeys in the freezer, turkeys dismantled into bits then vacuum sealed, broth simmering as it waits to be canned, and a ongoing search for the perfect turkey jerky. At $0.69 a pound... can you blame me for being thankful? Between these birds and the half a cow nestled into my freezer, I'm set for meat for a year. And with grocery prices soaring... I'm pretty darn thankful.
Have a great Thanksgiving everyone. Be safe, and love those you're with.
A small aside before I start packing – no matter your political affiliation, (and everyone who knows me knows there were plenty of things I didn't like about her - from religion to how she insisted on mugging for the camera) if you're sitting down to a turkey dinner this year with family – STOP BELLYACHING ABOUT THE PALIN PRESS CONFERENCE! Sheesh folks, what did you think happened to get those birds on your table? Depressed turkeys ending it all by locking themselves into the garage with a running motor? To every reporter wearing leather shoes, to any pundit fighting over a drumstick – grow up. This is a women who field dresses elk, why be surprised that she doesn't faint at the sight of a dead bird?
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Civic Duty
Done.
How about you? Everybody else get their snazzy red, white, and blue sticker? Still plenty of time, but I'd hurry on down to the polls while the traffic is light.
Seriously, I don't care if your guy gets it or not. By not voting you agree to the complete removal of your rights to piss and moan about the state of the country for the next four years - and that just doesn't seem very American to me.
Scoot.
How about you? Everybody else get their snazzy red, white, and blue sticker? Still plenty of time, but I'd hurry on down to the polls while the traffic is light.
Seriously, I don't care if your guy gets it or not. By not voting you agree to the complete removal of your rights to piss and moan about the state of the country for the next four years - and that just doesn't seem very American to me.
Scoot.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Rain Rain, Go Away
Really. Seriously. I have stuff to do.
Come on, give a nerd a break... there are windows to seal, wood to split, shingles to fix, gutters to clean, shutters to hang, and doors to fix.
Ahhh... the glories of fall.
Makes a gal hope for snow to fly soon so she can take a few moments and enjoy a cup of cocoa.
Looks like I'll spend the day wrapping pipes and doing laundry instead.
Why, yes. I am deciding to ignore the last several bad months and move on. You noticed, didn't you. Crap. I was trying to be subtle. Here's the deal. My summer has consisted of : 2 deaths (one a recent murder of a cousin's husband's little girl. It just keeps getting more movie of the week.), a mother-in-law dealing with cancer, family "issues", family nuttiness (understandable, but still possibly certifiable), a ripped up roof from a natural disaster, school struggles, two more severe health concerns with other family members, and a partridge in a freaking pear tree. I'm expecting a lightning bolt to hit the bedroom in about 20 minutes and all my hair to fall out on Friday. Can it just be winter yet? This has been a rough summer. Still trying to do the "green thing" but its hard to get back into a normal groove of life and I'm a bit scared to say I'm back for fear of a plauge of locusts o'er the land.
Come on, give a nerd a break... there are windows to seal, wood to split, shingles to fix, gutters to clean, shutters to hang, and doors to fix.
Ahhh... the glories of fall.
Makes a gal hope for snow to fly soon so she can take a few moments and enjoy a cup of cocoa.
Looks like I'll spend the day wrapping pipes and doing laundry instead.
Why, yes. I am deciding to ignore the last several bad months and move on. You noticed, didn't you. Crap. I was trying to be subtle. Here's the deal. My summer has consisted of : 2 deaths (one a recent murder of a cousin's husband's little girl. It just keeps getting more movie of the week.), a mother-in-law dealing with cancer, family "issues", family nuttiness (understandable, but still possibly certifiable), a ripped up roof from a natural disaster, school struggles, two more severe health concerns with other family members, and a partridge in a freaking pear tree. I'm expecting a lightning bolt to hit the bedroom in about 20 minutes and all my hair to fall out on Friday. Can it just be winter yet? This has been a rough summer. Still trying to do the "green thing" but its hard to get back into a normal groove of life and I'm a bit scared to say I'm back for fear of a plauge of locusts o'er the land.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
In Brief
I wanted to thank everyone for their thoughts and prayers for my family and a little girl you never met. This morning, a bit before 6am while surrounded by her parents and both sets of grandparents, Gracie passed.
She lived 20 days longer than any doctor though possible, 7 months longer than any conventional medical wisdom could dictate, she won't be forgotten.
Not going to say much else, and I'm going to try to finally get back into the habit of writing – better news, I hope – in the morning. Tonight? I'm going to cuddle my husband and my cats and try to turn my slightly battered brain and heart off for the evening. Toss a thought and a prayer to a pair of grieving parents and a little boy who's had to learn what death is far too soon.
Night all.
She lived 20 days longer than any doctor though possible, 7 months longer than any conventional medical wisdom could dictate, she won't be forgotten.
Not going to say much else, and I'm going to try to finally get back into the habit of writing – better news, I hope – in the morning. Tonight? I'm going to cuddle my husband and my cats and try to turn my slightly battered brain and heart off for the evening. Toss a thought and a prayer to a pair of grieving parents and a little boy who's had to learn what death is far too soon.
Night all.
Monday, September 29, 2008
ARRRGGGHH!!!
With a side of Ack.
Over a week without the bloody internet - shut off because we OVERPAID and their little neurons couldn't handle the excitement.
Behind in school work, behind in tons else... and just frankly wanting a solid day of rain to come along so I can catch back up.
Grumble grumble.
On the up side, I got a lot of knitting on my hopefully to be birthday sweater (here's hoping I won't have the wear the dratted thing as a tube top.) accomplished, the wood pile is now taller than I am (just have two more rows to go to be ready for snow), and we have tons of new projects on the hop.
Pretty please can I have a few boring weeks?
When I find the dratted person who laid this Chinese curse of an interesting life on me, I'm going to throttle them. Interestingly.
Over a week without the bloody internet - shut off because we OVERPAID and their little neurons couldn't handle the excitement.
Behind in school work, behind in tons else... and just frankly wanting a solid day of rain to come along so I can catch back up.
Grumble grumble.
On the up side, I got a lot of knitting on my hopefully to be birthday sweater (here's hoping I won't have the wear the dratted thing as a tube top.) accomplished, the wood pile is now taller than I am (just have two more rows to go to be ready for snow), and we have tons of new projects on the hop.
Pretty please can I have a few boring weeks?
When I find the dratted person who laid this Chinese curse of an interesting life on me, I'm going to throttle them. Interestingly.
Monday, September 15, 2008
In Which I Try To Return To A Semblance Of Normality
Life is what it is, and in the effort to regain a bit of balance in my life... I'm moving on and just letting the extended family situation go. It is what it is and...
What is, is a massive windstorm that nearly blew this nerd's nest to bits last night. Over 300,000 in our immediate area alone are without power, and the electric company is saying it could be Friday before everyone is hooked back into the grid. More than a million in other parts of Ohio are without power as well, and even more in other states. The Prime Geek and I were incredibly lucky, he got home from working overtime on Sunday just as the storm was beginning (a long worried wait for this nerd... he'd taken the bike) and we were pretty much battened down in under 30 minutes. A month before we had severely trimmed back our old oak trees, and as such are the only ones on the street who don't have downed branches. We lost about a 5x5 foot section of shingles off the roof... but that was our only hit. The power stayed on, the cats hid, and we called it a night by ten – lulled to sleep by the sound of Mother Nature having a hissy fit and sirens roaring by.
The weather seems bound and determined to shake our planet this year, and I really don't see any let up in the near future. To that end... I'm going to take the next few weeks and start looking at and discussing the preventative measures the PG and I take, and perhaps convince a few others to join in prepping your homes for upcoming storms and struggles. I've lived through : tornadoes, hurricanes, floods, fires, blizzards, droughts, financial.... flights of fancy, and even rains of frogs (long story). With government bulletins announcing that they'd love to help us should the roof fly off, but don't count on it – with Mother Nature seeming to have neglected to take her clozapine this decade – with the banks going down while the bills go up... maybe I can help a bit with what I've learned (and clarify it in my OWN brain as well!)
First. Not gonna talk about water, food, or shelter... something else comes first today.
Are you the kind of person who does laundry only at the last minute? Be honest. If the power went out in 20 minutes... no water or power for the next week, does everyone in your home have enough underwear, dry socks, and outer clothes for three days? (It takes at LEAST a full day to dry clothes you've washed in a bucket... more if its humid.) When the chips are down and you have to work hard to pull your life back together... squelching along in wet jeans you wore yesterday and dirty socks from last week just make a bad situation miserable – not to mention harder.
Go check, I'll wait. I've got cookies that need making. See you tomorrow.
Thank you for the kind words and prayers. As of this moment... she's alive. They talked someone into reventing her, and its back to its usual up and down she is/she isn't rollercoaster of hell. This weekend I had to admit that the whole situation was bringing up some painful personal past isues and I have to let this go. Too far away, I can't do anything... its just ripping scars open for the sake of watching them bleed. I'm praying for my cousin, I'm praying it just resolves itself however it needs to... and I'm done. I can't sit staring at a computer screen waiting to hear the next horrid installment in a story I can't affect. No more from or for this nerd.
What is, is a massive windstorm that nearly blew this nerd's nest to bits last night. Over 300,000 in our immediate area alone are without power, and the electric company is saying it could be Friday before everyone is hooked back into the grid. More than a million in other parts of Ohio are without power as well, and even more in other states. The Prime Geek and I were incredibly lucky, he got home from working overtime on Sunday just as the storm was beginning (a long worried wait for this nerd... he'd taken the bike) and we were pretty much battened down in under 30 minutes. A month before we had severely trimmed back our old oak trees, and as such are the only ones on the street who don't have downed branches. We lost about a 5x5 foot section of shingles off the roof... but that was our only hit. The power stayed on, the cats hid, and we called it a night by ten – lulled to sleep by the sound of Mother Nature having a hissy fit and sirens roaring by.
The weather seems bound and determined to shake our planet this year, and I really don't see any let up in the near future. To that end... I'm going to take the next few weeks and start looking at and discussing the preventative measures the PG and I take, and perhaps convince a few others to join in prepping your homes for upcoming storms and struggles. I've lived through : tornadoes, hurricanes, floods, fires, blizzards, droughts, financial.... flights of fancy, and even rains of frogs (long story). With government bulletins announcing that they'd love to help us should the roof fly off, but don't count on it – with Mother Nature seeming to have neglected to take her clozapine this decade – with the banks going down while the bills go up... maybe I can help a bit with what I've learned (and clarify it in my OWN brain as well!)
First. Not gonna talk about water, food, or shelter... something else comes first today.
Are you the kind of person who does laundry only at the last minute? Be honest. If the power went out in 20 minutes... no water or power for the next week, does everyone in your home have enough underwear, dry socks, and outer clothes for three days? (It takes at LEAST a full day to dry clothes you've washed in a bucket... more if its humid.) When the chips are down and you have to work hard to pull your life back together... squelching along in wet jeans you wore yesterday and dirty socks from last week just make a bad situation miserable – not to mention harder.
Go check, I'll wait. I've got cookies that need making. See you tomorrow.
Thank you for the kind words and prayers. As of this moment... she's alive. They talked someone into reventing her, and its back to its usual up and down she is/she isn't rollercoaster of hell. This weekend I had to admit that the whole situation was bringing up some painful personal past isues and I have to let this go. Too far away, I can't do anything... its just ripping scars open for the sake of watching them bleed. I'm praying for my cousin, I'm praying it just resolves itself however it needs to... and I'm done. I can't sit staring at a computer screen waiting to hear the next horrid installment in a story I can't affect. No more from or for this nerd.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Almost Over
She crashed this morning... flatlined, they brought her back.
The doctors have said no more.
She's off the ventilator, off the pump, laying in her momma's lap and they are waiting for the end.
Now its just a matter of waiting for the last call.
The doctors have said no more.
She's off the ventilator, off the pump, laying in her momma's lap and they are waiting for the end.
Now its just a matter of waiting for the last call.
Doesn't Matter to Who or How
Just... say a little prayer today.
Pray for a family to be able to let go. Pray for rest. Pray they can see it isn't satan pulling, it isn't a spirital failing, it isn't lack of faith - sometimes... its just time to go home.
Six months of pain is enough. When the doctors say they won't do another operation, they won't cut in again, they aren't being blinded by satan's plan... they swore an oath to do no harm - and all you are insisting on is harm.
Gonna be a long day.
Pray for a family to be able to let go. Pray for rest. Pray they can see it isn't satan pulling, it isn't a spirital failing, it isn't lack of faith - sometimes... its just time to go home.
Six months of pain is enough. When the doctors say they won't do another operation, they won't cut in again, they aren't being blinded by satan's plan... they swore an oath to do no harm - and all you are insisting on is harm.
Gonna be a long day.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Flip of the Coin
The good news about harvest time and the ability to preserve some of the local bounty? You know what you're eating, you know where its from, and it often tastes worlds better than anything a factory can produce.
The bad news? It has to be done now. Not tomorrow, not over the weekend, not when you get to it. Its just you in the kitchen against a mountain of tomatoes/peppers/corn/etc and the clock it ticking down to rotten town.
I'm a bit in the weeds, but starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel folks.
Until tomorrow, have a good night.
The bad news? It has to be done now. Not tomorrow, not over the weekend, not when you get to it. Its just you in the kitchen against a mountain of tomatoes/peppers/corn/etc and the clock it ticking down to rotten town.
I'm a bit in the weeds, but starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel folks.
Until tomorrow, have a good night.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
A Diversion...
As the heat tonight has sapped both my will to be productive and my desire to move away from the fan I've decided to wast... I mean spend some time writing up a little piece of my past for you all to enjoy. The decision was helped along by a comment read over on Cranky Prof's site (her link is over in the corner, check her out.) regarding the popularity of Chinese symbols in tattoos.*
Several years ago, a friend stopped by my apartment one evening to kill some time and just shoot the breeze. Topics of conversation ranged from world politics to the previous weeks round of D&D we'd both been a part of**, but at one point he leaned forward a bit and flashed a bit of a tattoo peeking out from the edge of his tank top. I'd caught glimpses of it before, but never enough to see what it truly was. That night I finally decided to inquire – having a slight tattoo fetish and always wanting to know the story behind why someone got an image permanently drilled into their skin.
He turned beet red, grabbed at the neckline of his shirt, and gave a small laugh.
“This? It's what made me become a Buddhist.”
I was intrigued. I knew folks who got tattoos to show their beliefs to the world (heck, I've got a runic symbol on the small of my back to remind me of something important***), but I'd never heard of a tattoo changing a person's belief's afterwards. I asked him to explain. In his own words... more or less :
“Years ago I got into martial arts. Didn't do too bad either. Started fighting, won some rounds... thought I was tough shit. So one day I sauntered into a Chinese tattoo parlor and declared to the artist that I 'wanted the symbol for Ultimate Fighter, Perfect Warrior, you know the thing, in Chinese' on my chest. The guy looked at me funny, then asked to see what I had in mind. I got rather loud and brash and told him 'you know what I mean, what... don't you write Chinese? Just do it, I don't have all day.” The artist quietly went about sketching and finally handed me a page with intricate symbols scattered over it. 'This what you want?' Not really looking it over, I said “Yeah. Exactly. Make sure you get it centered.' ' You sure this is what you want? Why not have some friends look it over. Sleep on it.' At this point I exploded, 'Just DO it!' And 45 minutes later I sauntered out of the shop, proud I hadn't let any stupid artiste try to bully me.
Over the next few months I dated a lot of girls I picked up at the fights. Mostly Asian girls... to go with my new 'samurai ' mentality. Nearly got somewhere with all of them, but never could quite seal the deal. At critical moments when we'd start to get somewhere... but they always pulled back and seemed to look at me funny. Finally, months later I was working hard to pick up this one women I had met at the end of a fight, when she stopped and cocked her head at me.
'Why... why do you have THAT on your chest?' she asked me, pointing at my tattoo now clearly visible through my open shirt. 'What, this? I got it when I started fighting. Its my lucky reminder of what I am.' 'What you are. You WANTED that?' ' I'm a fighter and a warrior. Of course I do.' She seemed a bit startled, and then asked suddenly – 'What do you think it says?' 'What do you mean, what does it say. Can't you read it?' 'Yes, and that's why I'm curious.' 'Obviously', I said condescendingly ' it says Ultimate Fighter, Perfect Warrior... that kind of thing...' I trailed off as her head started to shake and the corners of her mouth twitched. 'It doesn't? What do you mean it doesn't... what does it say?' With a grin she said calmly, ' roughly translated? Stupid white boy should do his homework.' with that she walked away.
I was stunned. And shocked. Horrified. Angry. Pissed... but finally settled on embarrassed. With a little bit of digging, I found out she had been right. All this time spent beating my chest, proud of my superior standing... and I had been making a fool of myself. In more than one way.”
At this point in his story, I interrupted. “Why do you still have it? And how does an embarrassing tattoo equate a religious shift?”
“I'll always keep it. Helps me to remember two very important things in life.”
“What, don't piss off a tattooer right before he inks you?”
“Well, that... and when I start to think I know everything, I just looked down and remember. I'm just a stupid white boy who needs to do his homework.” he grinned. “And to always research anything I want inked onto my body beforehand!”
Night folks.
* And no, mom. I don't have one on me... any tattoos I have will be in languages I can decipher.
**Yup. I'm THAT kind of nerd.
***Sometimes my memory is a bit faulty and I need a reminder to get through the fog. Long story that would involve someone getting me really REALLY good mead before I tell it.
Several years ago, a friend stopped by my apartment one evening to kill some time and just shoot the breeze. Topics of conversation ranged from world politics to the previous weeks round of D&D we'd both been a part of**, but at one point he leaned forward a bit and flashed a bit of a tattoo peeking out from the edge of his tank top. I'd caught glimpses of it before, but never enough to see what it truly was. That night I finally decided to inquire – having a slight tattoo fetish and always wanting to know the story behind why someone got an image permanently drilled into their skin.
He turned beet red, grabbed at the neckline of his shirt, and gave a small laugh.
“This? It's what made me become a Buddhist.”
I was intrigued. I knew folks who got tattoos to show their beliefs to the world (heck, I've got a runic symbol on the small of my back to remind me of something important***), but I'd never heard of a tattoo changing a person's belief's afterwards. I asked him to explain. In his own words... more or less :
“Years ago I got into martial arts. Didn't do too bad either. Started fighting, won some rounds... thought I was tough shit. So one day I sauntered into a Chinese tattoo parlor and declared to the artist that I 'wanted the symbol for Ultimate Fighter, Perfect Warrior, you know the thing, in Chinese' on my chest. The guy looked at me funny, then asked to see what I had in mind. I got rather loud and brash and told him 'you know what I mean, what... don't you write Chinese? Just do it, I don't have all day.” The artist quietly went about sketching and finally handed me a page with intricate symbols scattered over it. 'This what you want?' Not really looking it over, I said “Yeah. Exactly. Make sure you get it centered.' ' You sure this is what you want? Why not have some friends look it over. Sleep on it.' At this point I exploded, 'Just DO it!' And 45 minutes later I sauntered out of the shop, proud I hadn't let any stupid artiste try to bully me.
Over the next few months I dated a lot of girls I picked up at the fights. Mostly Asian girls... to go with my new 'samurai ' mentality. Nearly got somewhere with all of them, but never could quite seal the deal. At critical moments when we'd start to get somewhere... but they always pulled back and seemed to look at me funny. Finally, months later I was working hard to pick up this one women I had met at the end of a fight, when she stopped and cocked her head at me.
'Why... why do you have THAT on your chest?' she asked me, pointing at my tattoo now clearly visible through my open shirt. 'What, this? I got it when I started fighting. Its my lucky reminder of what I am.' 'What you are. You WANTED that?' ' I'm a fighter and a warrior. Of course I do.' She seemed a bit startled, and then asked suddenly – 'What do you think it says?' 'What do you mean, what does it say. Can't you read it?' 'Yes, and that's why I'm curious.' 'Obviously', I said condescendingly ' it says Ultimate Fighter, Perfect Warrior... that kind of thing...' I trailed off as her head started to shake and the corners of her mouth twitched. 'It doesn't? What do you mean it doesn't... what does it say?' With a grin she said calmly, ' roughly translated? Stupid white boy should do his homework.' with that she walked away.
I was stunned. And shocked. Horrified. Angry. Pissed... but finally settled on embarrassed. With a little bit of digging, I found out she had been right. All this time spent beating my chest, proud of my superior standing... and I had been making a fool of myself. In more than one way.”
At this point in his story, I interrupted. “Why do you still have it? And how does an embarrassing tattoo equate a religious shift?”
“I'll always keep it. Helps me to remember two very important things in life.”
“What, don't piss off a tattooer right before he inks you?”
“Well, that... and when I start to think I know everything, I just looked down and remember. I'm just a stupid white boy who needs to do his homework.” he grinned. “And to always research anything I want inked onto my body beforehand!”
Night folks.
* And no, mom. I don't have one on me... any tattoos I have will be in languages I can decipher.
**Yup. I'm THAT kind of nerd.
***Sometimes my memory is a bit faulty and I need a reminder to get through the fog. Long story that would involve someone getting me really REALLY good mead before I tell it.
Making Hay
Well, September is here at last – bringing with it all the end of season desperation as the Prime Geek and myself try to figure out all that we need to get done before the cold is upon us. The chimney sweep has to be scheduled, the log pile must go higher, and only a few weeks left to get in whatever I can from the local farms.
Oh, yeah. I should probably confess to something.
My garden this year?
Sucketh the teat mightily.
Between a weather pattern controlled by Mother Natures schizophrenic sister Marge, multiple jobs that had us out of town at critical moments, and an infestation of some burrowing critter – I got a couple of bunches of basil, 2 tomatoes, and a whole lot of grief. We're going to plan better for next year, as well as see about some alternative ideas (staying home more of the summer is a big part of the plan!) to put into use... but for this year? Its farmers markets and whatever local produce I can find at good prices at the grocery.
At the moment I'm working my way through some gigantic green peppers from a local farm. I took a look through my grocery notes from last winter and one of the recurring gripes was the outrageous price of green and red peppers at the store. At one point hitting a high of $3.19 PER PEPPER (Green, to make it somehow even worse. I simply stopped looking at the red by November.) and staying there for 3 months. We use peppers 2-3 times a week, in everything from stirfrys to sauces, but I just can't justify spending more on a lone pepper then I do on a pound of meat! So, when the sale flyer on the doorstep proclaimed “Locally Grown Green Pepper – 2/$1” I'm jumping on it.
Today will find me slicing my way through about fifteen bucks worth of green globes. I'm slicing them thin – perfect for stirfrys but easy enough to hatchet through when I make sauce – and flash freezing them on cookie sheets. Then, its into ziploc bags until needed. As for red peppers?
There is a brand available at our local discount store that comes from Indiana (one state away). Nowadays, I'm trying to remember to chuck a jar of red peppers into my cart every time I shop. At $1.79 a jar, from only one state away, with 4 roasted peppers in each jar... I can't really afford to go for fresh.
Time to make hay folks, I'm trying to get as much put away as possible before the weather turns on us. Anything YOU remember wishing wasn't so expensive last winter? Because between transportation costs skyrocketing, weird weather, and tight budgets due to energy prices... plan on if it was high last year, its gonna be higher still this one.
Oh, yeah. I should probably confess to something.
My garden this year?
Sucketh the teat mightily.
Between a weather pattern controlled by Mother Natures schizophrenic sister Marge, multiple jobs that had us out of town at critical moments, and an infestation of some burrowing critter – I got a couple of bunches of basil, 2 tomatoes, and a whole lot of grief. We're going to plan better for next year, as well as see about some alternative ideas (staying home more of the summer is a big part of the plan!) to put into use... but for this year? Its farmers markets and whatever local produce I can find at good prices at the grocery.
At the moment I'm working my way through some gigantic green peppers from a local farm. I took a look through my grocery notes from last winter and one of the recurring gripes was the outrageous price of green and red peppers at the store. At one point hitting a high of $3.19 PER PEPPER (Green, to make it somehow even worse. I simply stopped looking at the red by November.) and staying there for 3 months. We use peppers 2-3 times a week, in everything from stirfrys to sauces, but I just can't justify spending more on a lone pepper then I do on a pound of meat! So, when the sale flyer on the doorstep proclaimed “Locally Grown Green Pepper – 2/$1” I'm jumping on it.
Today will find me slicing my way through about fifteen bucks worth of green globes. I'm slicing them thin – perfect for stirfrys but easy enough to hatchet through when I make sauce – and flash freezing them on cookie sheets. Then, its into ziploc bags until needed. As for red peppers?
There is a brand available at our local discount store that comes from Indiana (one state away). Nowadays, I'm trying to remember to chuck a jar of red peppers into my cart every time I shop. At $1.79 a jar, from only one state away, with 4 roasted peppers in each jar... I can't really afford to go for fresh.
Time to make hay folks, I'm trying to get as much put away as possible before the weather turns on us. Anything YOU remember wishing wasn't so expensive last winter? Because between transportation costs skyrocketing, weird weather, and tight budgets due to energy prices... plan on if it was high last year, its gonna be higher still this one.
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