So, here it is...the busy time of year. Whoever said it doesn't really get crazy until after Thanksgiving, doesn't know what it's like to try to bargain hunt for Christmas, convince siblings that really, it's time to stop giving each other gifts now that we're all in our thirties, convince Mom and Dad that yes, we really will buy you something and FOR PETE'S SAKE quit buying crap for yourselves when Christmas is 7 weeks away(!!), and figure out what the heck we are giving to family in Ireland and get that all bought (or made!), wrapped, packed, and shipped by the middle of next week, thank you very much.
Yep, I've got at present 4 emails from friends that are going unanswered, because even with all of the above, I am still expected to parent my children, clean my house, and run all the errands I normally do. SO. TOTALLY. UNFAIR! < /whine>
Let me see, today was crazyness personified. First off, DH is coming home late from work, thus rendering my normal parenting day about 4 hours longer than it normally would be. Which, frankly, might as well be 24 hours, because it meant I had to get the kiddos fed, diapered, PJ'ed, and into bed--a mean feat when DS screamed his head off while I read DD stories, then DD thumped and bumped in her room doing her best to either a) drive me batty or b) keep DS awake, or c) both...oh yes, and during all of this the bird was shrieking because SHE hadn't been put to bed. Oh joy.
And I have to send "The List" to MIL. These are things we usually enjoy for the holidays and which normally we buy at exorbitant prices from an online British grocer, but this year due to DH's small inheritance from his great-aunt and the annoyance of changing it to dollars, etc, my MIL is going to buy it all in Ireland and then ship it over. So we get to look like TOTAL pigs to them, basically, because here is our list:
Lyons tea (5)
Lyons decaffeinated tea (3)
Cadburys selection boxes (4)
Harvey Nicks mulled fruit jam (2 jars)
Mr. Kipling cherry bakewells (2 boxes)
Mr. Kipling Viennese whirls (2 boxes)
Marks & Spencer mini flapjacks (3 cans)
Marks & Spencer dark chocolate jaffa cakes (3)
Marks & Spencer deluxe mini mince pies (with the cherries & nuts) -- 2
Marks & Spencer mini mince pies (no cherries or nuts) -- 2
milk chocolate Hobnobs (2)
plain Hobnobs (2)
Yep, PIGS. Oh, and today for some reason that I find unfathomable, I invited our neighbor over with her two kids to decorate pumpkins. And then, I couldn't actually FIND any pumpkins at the grocery store, except for 2 behemoth pumpkins totally unsuitable for small kids to glue goggly eyes and other small decorations on. So I had to use my neighbor's two small pumpkins. Talk about feeling bad! And after that was done, help her out by picking them up from their mechanic's after they dropped their car off for servicing, come home, put my kids down for their naps (a prequel to tonight's bedtime, btw), then...make cookie dough! Because, of course, I didn't have ENOUGH to do, I had to make cookies for Halloween! We couldn't let our Halloween cookie shapes and sprinkles go unused! Oh no! So basically during the hour that DS slept, I made cookie dough, and managed to write a few more sentences on some reply emails. Then I got to schlep the kids to the grocery store to finish our shopping, after getting DD some lunch at a drive-through (because she was so tired from the excitement of having her friend in OUR car that she went straight to bed when we got home). And then come home and bake cookies.
So here I sit, eating mini Snickers bars and drinking milk, telling myself that surely this counts as a full meal because the Snickers have peanut, so there's my protein...and I'm drinking milk... Uh-huh. And what am I going to do after I finish this blog? Well, I can either go design our invitations for our Christmas party, or I can go finish undoing my totally, horrendously screwed up row of knit/purl stitches on DH's sweater, that I'm attempting to make for him for Christmas. And to think I do all of this to myself...I must be crazy!
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Thursday, October 25, 2007
An Open Letter to JK Rowling
Dear Ms. Rowling,
You said Albus Dumbledore was/is gay. And you went on to explain how he actually loved Gellert Grindelwald, and how that made him blind to that wizard's Dark Magic leanings. My question for you is, why would you say this now, if it was irrelevant to the books' plots?
Let's ignore for the purposes of this discussion the inflammatory nature of this statement to your fans who are devout Christians, Jews, Mormons, or Muslims. Instead, let's look at the target audience for your books--kids. While the later books are long, they are books that are read by your average 8 to 10 year olds, plus or minus a few years. Is it really necessary to sexualize the books for this age of child? Isn't it bad enough that kids are barraged by our sex-saturated media and the aggressive politicization of bedroom behavior? Do you have to detract from what is a children's story by extemporizing publicly about all the adult characters' sexuality?
And don't think that adults won't be poring through your books for any hint that Albus had an overly fond interest in Harry, either. This is the age of sex scandals in the Catholic church, victims suing over priests molesting them, and the "man-boy love" association. The second someone finds a sentence like, "Dumbledore patted Harry fondly" or some such, someone will claim it's an indication of an unhealthy relationship between Dumbledore and Harry. After all, Rita Skeeter hinted at it, so it MUST be true...where there's smoke there's fire and all that, right? People will be blogging about this being the real reason Harry was getting so angry with Dumbledore during the later books--he was getting too old for Dumbledore's tastes, etc. Think I'm exaggerating? Just take a look here at the discussion...it's already there. So now the Dumbledore/Harry mentor relationship is questionable, which sours all of the books.
I can't fathom what motives you had for outing Albus. Were you not concerned that Dumbledore is now going to be used as another poster child in the outspoken political gay movement? It took about two nanoseconds for t-shirts and all sorts of slogans to be invented, and no doubt worn at gay pride parades and protests all over the world. I can only assume that at best this doesn't bother you, to see one of your beloved (and assiduously defended from copyright infringement, if your lawyers' previous actions are any indication) characters reduced to a strawman. At worst I could ascribe political motives and an attempt to force your own socio-political views on your reading audience, which, if it is the case, I frankly find despicable from an author of children's literature. Kids have enough of a hard time learning how to sort through all the socio-political debates when they are teens and their brains are developing the ability to reason and use logic. Younger than that, and they are capable only of concrete knowledge, and not able to question why or how. If I were being cynical, I could say this is the point.
Further, why does there have to be some sort of "explanation" for the fact that Dumbledore was single? What is wrong with never marrying? Our society has the unfortunate habit of speculating about sexuality when adults choose not to marry, and shame on you for feeding it. It's okay to be single! Are we now to speculate about Sprout and McGonagall, as they, too, are unmarried?
Lastly, it does irritate me that so much "backstory" is being given out left, right, and center about the characters and their continuing lives, etc. When I finish a book or a series of books, I expect the words, "THE END", to really be THE END. To have an author continue to drip out information that was obviously irrelevant to the story is annoying at best and pandering at worst. I don't care if Neville Longbottom married Hannah Abbott. I don't even remember who she is, she is such a minor character in the books. I have no opinion on Hermione's career choices, or Ron's, or Harry's. And I really don't give a crap about Albus Dumbledore's sexuality. The thing is, all of the above are irrelevant to the story. There's a reason you didn't put it in the books--because it is irrelevant. If it was too irrelevant to be included, then isn't it too irrelevant to discuss with fans? Isn't there enough meat in the books themselves to talk about for ages? When you give out all of these meaningless bits, you ruin people's own ideas about the characters. That's the best part of books--you have your own vision of the characters, and what they were like eating dinner or chatting with friends at the pub, or growing up, or as parents or grown-ups. When you start feeding out your ideas, you rob your readers of the joy of imagining their own endings and stories. And that, frankly, disappoints me the most. For all of the above reasons, I'm disappointed in you, Jo.
You said Albus Dumbledore was/is gay. And you went on to explain how he actually loved Gellert Grindelwald, and how that made him blind to that wizard's Dark Magic leanings. My question for you is, why would you say this now, if it was irrelevant to the books' plots?
Let's ignore for the purposes of this discussion the inflammatory nature of this statement to your fans who are devout Christians, Jews, Mormons, or Muslims. Instead, let's look at the target audience for your books--kids. While the later books are long, they are books that are read by your average 8 to 10 year olds, plus or minus a few years. Is it really necessary to sexualize the books for this age of child? Isn't it bad enough that kids are barraged by our sex-saturated media and the aggressive politicization of bedroom behavior? Do you have to detract from what is a children's story by extemporizing publicly about all the adult characters' sexuality?
And don't think that adults won't be poring through your books for any hint that Albus had an overly fond interest in Harry, either. This is the age of sex scandals in the Catholic church, victims suing over priests molesting them, and the "man-boy love" association. The second someone finds a sentence like, "Dumbledore patted Harry fondly" or some such, someone will claim it's an indication of an unhealthy relationship between Dumbledore and Harry. After all, Rita Skeeter hinted at it, so it MUST be true...where there's smoke there's fire and all that, right? People will be blogging about this being the real reason Harry was getting so angry with Dumbledore during the later books--he was getting too old for Dumbledore's tastes, etc. Think I'm exaggerating? Just take a look here at the discussion...it's already there. So now the Dumbledore/Harry mentor relationship is questionable, which sours all of the books.
I can't fathom what motives you had for outing Albus. Were you not concerned that Dumbledore is now going to be used as another poster child in the outspoken political gay movement? It took about two nanoseconds for t-shirts and all sorts of slogans to be invented, and no doubt worn at gay pride parades and protests all over the world. I can only assume that at best this doesn't bother you, to see one of your beloved (and assiduously defended from copyright infringement, if your lawyers' previous actions are any indication) characters reduced to a strawman. At worst I could ascribe political motives and an attempt to force your own socio-political views on your reading audience, which, if it is the case, I frankly find despicable from an author of children's literature. Kids have enough of a hard time learning how to sort through all the socio-political debates when they are teens and their brains are developing the ability to reason and use logic. Younger than that, and they are capable only of concrete knowledge, and not able to question why or how. If I were being cynical, I could say this is the point.
Further, why does there have to be some sort of "explanation" for the fact that Dumbledore was single? What is wrong with never marrying? Our society has the unfortunate habit of speculating about sexuality when adults choose not to marry, and shame on you for feeding it. It's okay to be single! Are we now to speculate about Sprout and McGonagall, as they, too, are unmarried?
Lastly, it does irritate me that so much "backstory" is being given out left, right, and center about the characters and their continuing lives, etc. When I finish a book or a series of books, I expect the words, "THE END", to really be THE END. To have an author continue to drip out information that was obviously irrelevant to the story is annoying at best and pandering at worst. I don't care if Neville Longbottom married Hannah Abbott. I don't even remember who she is, she is such a minor character in the books. I have no opinion on Hermione's career choices, or Ron's, or Harry's. And I really don't give a crap about Albus Dumbledore's sexuality. The thing is, all of the above are irrelevant to the story. There's a reason you didn't put it in the books--because it is irrelevant. If it was too irrelevant to be included, then isn't it too irrelevant to discuss with fans? Isn't there enough meat in the books themselves to talk about for ages? When you give out all of these meaningless bits, you ruin people's own ideas about the characters. That's the best part of books--you have your own vision of the characters, and what they were like eating dinner or chatting with friends at the pub, or growing up, or as parents or grown-ups. When you start feeding out your ideas, you rob your readers of the joy of imagining their own endings and stories. And that, frankly, disappoints me the most. For all of the above reasons, I'm disappointed in you, Jo.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
What Will They Be?
Being a parent means I have (mostly) moved from wondering what I will be when I grow up, to wondering what my kids will be when they grow up. Even at their young ages, they have some preferences for things that make DH & I wonder if they are going to be inclined toward those things when they grow up.
DD loves music and dancing. When I have the cover off of my harp, she is right there, clamoring to be allowed to play and wanting to sit on my chair and pull the harp back to play it like I do. She even puts up two fingers, her thumb and middle finger, to pluck two strings at once the way I do when I play chords (well I play 3 strings but you get the point). She also loves to dance to celebrate anything ordinary--a change of clothes, a breakfast dance, a new library book dance...she will dance to anything. Our favorite is when she does her "whisk" dance, where she goes to the kitchen, gets a whisk, and then proceeds to dance around like an pygmy, banging the whisk and shaking her feet.
Did I mention the songs she makes up? She will start singing her own songs, filled with la-la's and oh's and any other sounds which she thinks are part of songs. She will add in sentences about the activity, "Oh, this is pretty, la-la..." and in general describe her day or mood with the exuberance of her singing. THAT is cute, my friends.
And DS is already showing signs of being a foodie. He rejects artificially flavored ice cream, but give that child some real vanilla bean ice cream and he's all over it. Ditto the toaster waffles...yeah, they are okay to chew on, but to actually EAT he prefers toast with butter. And he loves real maple syrup--the dark B grade with lots of flavor. Will suck it right off the toaster waffle strips and leave the waffle on his tray. He also loves roasted garlic potatoes and DH's seasoned chicken. Those pre-formed chicken nuggets? Yuck! Spits them right out.
He also adores TV. If the TV is on, he wants to watch it. I admit to using Teletubbies on occasion to keep him entertained, but he has definite couch potato tendencies. I have to turn it off if he's in the room, or he will watch TV. DD only likes a few shows anyway, so I don't mind saying goodbye to Sprout's endless re-runs throughout the day and their chirpy hosts. I'd rather put on some good music and watch DD dance.
DD loves music and dancing. When I have the cover off of my harp, she is right there, clamoring to be allowed to play and wanting to sit on my chair and pull the harp back to play it like I do. She even puts up two fingers, her thumb and middle finger, to pluck two strings at once the way I do when I play chords (well I play 3 strings but you get the point). She also loves to dance to celebrate anything ordinary--a change of clothes, a breakfast dance, a new library book dance...she will dance to anything. Our favorite is when she does her "whisk" dance, where she goes to the kitchen, gets a whisk, and then proceeds to dance around like an pygmy, banging the whisk and shaking her feet.
Did I mention the songs she makes up? She will start singing her own songs, filled with la-la's and oh's and any other sounds which she thinks are part of songs. She will add in sentences about the activity, "Oh, this is pretty, la-la..." and in general describe her day or mood with the exuberance of her singing. THAT is cute, my friends.
And DS is already showing signs of being a foodie. He rejects artificially flavored ice cream, but give that child some real vanilla bean ice cream and he's all over it. Ditto the toaster waffles...yeah, they are okay to chew on, but to actually EAT he prefers toast with butter. And he loves real maple syrup--the dark B grade with lots of flavor. Will suck it right off the toaster waffle strips and leave the waffle on his tray. He also loves roasted garlic potatoes and DH's seasoned chicken. Those pre-formed chicken nuggets? Yuck! Spits them right out.
He also adores TV. If the TV is on, he wants to watch it. I admit to using Teletubbies on occasion to keep him entertained, but he has definite couch potato tendencies. I have to turn it off if he's in the room, or he will watch TV. DD only likes a few shows anyway, so I don't mind saying goodbye to Sprout's endless re-runs throughout the day and their chirpy hosts. I'd rather put on some good music and watch DD dance.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Life's Little Annoyances
Yesterday was a very frustrating day for me, and then for DH. My DD woke up in a mood that is best described as "ornery", and it only went downhill from there. She's going to be three in a few months and she has started having major attitude problems--a sign of her continuing desire for independence. However, this is very difficult for me to deal with, as DS is teething and cruising, and thus requires near constant supervision. Any time I have to punish DD with a time-out as opposed to a spanking (which only works in certain circumstances, thus the need to escalate to time-out), I have to supervise it because her attitude results in banging the walls repeatedly or throwing things during time-out in her room, neither of which is acceptable behavior in this house. So I have to supervise while DS cries in the other room, usually from the confinement of his exersaucer because I can't trust that he's not going to hurt himself if I leave him to cruise around at will.
To be fair to DD & DS, the morning went well enough, with trips to two different grocery stores for this week's Grocery Game deals. DD was quite helpful at one of the stores, and scanned some of the cans herself and put the coupons in the slot by herself. This is a big thing for her recently, doing things by herself--she has to dress herself, brush her own hair, put on her own shoes and socks, and in general prove that she CAN do things alone. It's very cute and I try to let her do things her own way, including leaving it alone if she puts on her pants backwards. Independence is a good thing, and is the whole point of growing up.
However, when she wants to balance on the arm of a chair, or play with the bird's toys or close the bird's cage, or climb up onto her stepstool to reach forbidden items like candy...well, those independent behaviors have to be nipped in the bud (especially before the bird nips her). This is what she was attempting to do repeatedly yesterday afternoon, and it drove me crazy. She refused to stop when I told her too. She was also being bratty toward her brother, taking toys away from him and then attempting to mow him down with a push walker that she's been told is not her toy, but belongs to her brother. Stern & calm rebukes and spankings did nothing to dent her behavior, and I had to put her in time-out three times yesterday before she finally calmed down for a brief period before her daddy got home.
In the meantime, DS was clinging to me for dear life when I wasn't disciplining his sister, probably due to the combination of enforced confinement and hearing his sister screaming and crying about her punishment. He refused to play independently, and was quite grabby and demanding comfort nursing which was NOT very comfortable for me, as he preferred to chew instead of eat! Arrrghh. Yep, that's a good combination--trying to train a nursing child not to bite/chew when he's already a bit upset and clingy. Yep, good times.
So DH got home and I fled the house to run a Christmas errand. I brought DS with me to the bookstore because he's quite manageable on errands and I knew DH was tired. Apparently while I was gone, DD had more misbehavior and time-out. Instead of the comfort food & tea we had planned for dinner, DD ate cereal with chocolate milk, I fed DS some butternut squash that he was very indifferent about (throwing half of it out because he stopped eating it). And we gave both of them baths, because DS smeared squash all over himself and DD had graffiti'ed her leg with a pen. I had to let DS cry for a bit before he settled down and got serious about going to sleep, and DD kept with the theme of the rest of the day and whined during her bedtime routine. DH & I collapsed onto the couch and ate a motley assortment of snack foods & toaster waffles for dinner...yum.
And to top it off, we watched a British car show where they came to the States, bought 3 cars for under $1000 each, and then proceeded to take a road trip with the intention of provoking rural yokels into attacking or arresting them by writing offensive slogans all over their cars. And then they wondered why they were nearly attacked and had rocks thrown at them! Then we were treated to sanctimonious attitudes about the wreckage from Katrina that was still visible to them as they drove through New Orleans a year later. The comment was, "How is it that the wealthiest country in the world hasn't fixed this? How do people in America sleep in their beds at night, knowing this is still here?" GRRRRRR!!! How sanctimonious and ignorant can you get??? I was so irritated, it was the perfect end to an irritating day. DH had to stop me when I started talking back to the TV--"Well for a start a lot of the residents don't live there any more, they took their compensation from the government and now live in Texas or Alabama or other states...and why the heck do you find it surprising that when you deliberately try to provoke rural yokels into attacking you in the Deep South that they actually WERE offended and were GOING to attack you???"
So DH turned off the TV and we went to bed. Is it any wonder that Europeans have a bad impression of America? I'm still miffed, as you can tell.
Yes, a bad day all around. Hopefully today will be better.
To be fair to DD & DS, the morning went well enough, with trips to two different grocery stores for this week's Grocery Game deals. DD was quite helpful at one of the stores, and scanned some of the cans herself and put the coupons in the slot by herself. This is a big thing for her recently, doing things by herself--she has to dress herself, brush her own hair, put on her own shoes and socks, and in general prove that she CAN do things alone. It's very cute and I try to let her do things her own way, including leaving it alone if she puts on her pants backwards. Independence is a good thing, and is the whole point of growing up.
However, when she wants to balance on the arm of a chair, or play with the bird's toys or close the bird's cage, or climb up onto her stepstool to reach forbidden items like candy...well, those independent behaviors have to be nipped in the bud (especially before the bird nips her). This is what she was attempting to do repeatedly yesterday afternoon, and it drove me crazy. She refused to stop when I told her too. She was also being bratty toward her brother, taking toys away from him and then attempting to mow him down with a push walker that she's been told is not her toy, but belongs to her brother. Stern & calm rebukes and spankings did nothing to dent her behavior, and I had to put her in time-out three times yesterday before she finally calmed down for a brief period before her daddy got home.
In the meantime, DS was clinging to me for dear life when I wasn't disciplining his sister, probably due to the combination of enforced confinement and hearing his sister screaming and crying about her punishment. He refused to play independently, and was quite grabby and demanding comfort nursing which was NOT very comfortable for me, as he preferred to chew instead of eat! Arrrghh. Yep, that's a good combination--trying to train a nursing child not to bite/chew when he's already a bit upset and clingy. Yep, good times.
So DH got home and I fled the house to run a Christmas errand. I brought DS with me to the bookstore because he's quite manageable on errands and I knew DH was tired. Apparently while I was gone, DD had more misbehavior and time-out. Instead of the comfort food & tea we had planned for dinner, DD ate cereal with chocolate milk, I fed DS some butternut squash that he was very indifferent about (throwing half of it out because he stopped eating it). And we gave both of them baths, because DS smeared squash all over himself and DD had graffiti'ed her leg with a pen. I had to let DS cry for a bit before he settled down and got serious about going to sleep, and DD kept with the theme of the rest of the day and whined during her bedtime routine. DH & I collapsed onto the couch and ate a motley assortment of snack foods & toaster waffles for dinner...yum.
And to top it off, we watched a British car show where they came to the States, bought 3 cars for under $1000 each, and then proceeded to take a road trip with the intention of provoking rural yokels into attacking or arresting them by writing offensive slogans all over their cars. And then they wondered why they were nearly attacked and had rocks thrown at them! Then we were treated to sanctimonious attitudes about the wreckage from Katrina that was still visible to them as they drove through New Orleans a year later. The comment was, "How is it that the wealthiest country in the world hasn't fixed this? How do people in America sleep in their beds at night, knowing this is still here?" GRRRRRR!!! How sanctimonious and ignorant can you get??? I was so irritated, it was the perfect end to an irritating day. DH had to stop me when I started talking back to the TV--"Well for a start a lot of the residents don't live there any more, they took their compensation from the government and now live in Texas or Alabama or other states...and why the heck do you find it surprising that when you deliberately try to provoke rural yokels into attacking you in the Deep South that they actually WERE offended and were GOING to attack you???"
So DH turned off the TV and we went to bed. Is it any wonder that Europeans have a bad impression of America? I'm still miffed, as you can tell.
Yes, a bad day all around. Hopefully today will be better.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
No Secret Knitting
I am attempting to knit my first sweater. I have the circular needles in 2 sizes, I have cast on 254 stitches, and now I am belatedly making a gauge square because the stitches look too small to me. The genesis of this project was my overweening confidence in my knitting after blowing through several easy "fun fur" scarves, and even the completion of a somewhat lopsided modern art keyhole scarf. And, my DH had commented on a little sweater vest that DS wears occasionally, and lamented how he would love to have one that matched. Awwwwwwwwww.
I thought, Well of COURSE I could do that! and marched myself down to my local yarn store to buy an easy pattern and enough yarn to do a set of sweater vests for DH & DS. My LYS people were extremely helpful (of course they tend to be effusive in their assurances if they see another prospective customer being introduced the wide world of specialty yarns) and assured me that, yes, I can do this, and that they would help me out if I got stuck. OK.
I was going to be very industrious and work on this sweater only when DH was at work. By keeping it from him, I was going to have a beautiful sweater vest, lovingly hand-knit, and wrapped up in beautiful paper under the Christmas tree. That was the plan.
After a week of trying to skulk around, dealing with my GI issues and doctor's visits, and having precious knitting time constantly interrupted by DD ("What are you doing Mommy? Can you help me with my shoes/my game/onto the potty?") and DS (who I believe is a budding yarn monster), I gave up. (Note that DS is 9 months old, and if there is a ball of yarn in view he pursues it with the determination of a dog after a treat. He LOVES playing with yarn.)
Anyway, I finally gave up all pretense last night, shoved the pattern into the hand-knit stocking which my great-aunt knitted for DS for Christmas, and said, "Merry Christmas" to DH and handed it to him while he was cooking dinner. Somewhat befuddled, DH pulled out the knitting pattern and I explained that, if I was to have any HOPE of completing this sweater for him sometime before 2015, I would have to knit whenever I had the chance and thus he would know what I was making. Merry Christmas. DH laughed and said thank you very much, and he is looking forward to wearing it. He sagely advised me not to attempt to alter the pattern to put some ribbing at the neck, but to keep it as simple as possible.
So now I am done skulking around with circular needles and a ball of blue wool stuffed into my purse or laundry basket. I can knit out in the open, and I can run off to the LYS to ask for help, as I inevitably will. Just as soon as I finish this gauge square, which I believe is going to show me I need to use #8s instead of the #6s. Which means casting on 254 stitches again. Oh goody. Who started me on this knitting business again?
I thought, Well of COURSE I could do that! and marched myself down to my local yarn store to buy an easy pattern and enough yarn to do a set of sweater vests for DH & DS. My LYS people were extremely helpful (of course they tend to be effusive in their assurances if they see another prospective customer being introduced the wide world of specialty yarns) and assured me that, yes, I can do this, and that they would help me out if I got stuck. OK.
I was going to be very industrious and work on this sweater only when DH was at work. By keeping it from him, I was going to have a beautiful sweater vest, lovingly hand-knit, and wrapped up in beautiful paper under the Christmas tree. That was the plan.
After a week of trying to skulk around, dealing with my GI issues and doctor's visits, and having precious knitting time constantly interrupted by DD ("What are you doing Mommy? Can you help me with my shoes/my game/onto the potty?") and DS (who I believe is a budding yarn monster), I gave up. (Note that DS is 9 months old, and if there is a ball of yarn in view he pursues it with the determination of a dog after a treat. He LOVES playing with yarn.)
Anyway, I finally gave up all pretense last night, shoved the pattern into the hand-knit stocking which my great-aunt knitted for DS for Christmas, and said, "Merry Christmas" to DH and handed it to him while he was cooking dinner. Somewhat befuddled, DH pulled out the knitting pattern and I explained that, if I was to have any HOPE of completing this sweater for him sometime before 2015, I would have to knit whenever I had the chance and thus he would know what I was making. Merry Christmas. DH laughed and said thank you very much, and he is looking forward to wearing it. He sagely advised me not to attempt to alter the pattern to put some ribbing at the neck, but to keep it as simple as possible.
So now I am done skulking around with circular needles and a ball of blue wool stuffed into my purse or laundry basket. I can knit out in the open, and I can run off to the LYS to ask for help, as I inevitably will. Just as soon as I finish this gauge square, which I believe is going to show me I need to use #8s instead of the #6s. Which means casting on 254 stitches again. Oh goody. Who started me on this knitting business again?
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Medical Testing Fun
Back when I was young and green, I thought that just about the worst thing you could have in terms of medical testing was having your blood drawn. I hated the prick of the needle, hated the idea of all that perfectly good blood being taken from my body, and hated the anticipation of it beforehand.
Now that I've gone through childbirth and then a c-section, I know there are far worse things. Having a catheter in your bladder is one. Having an IV is another, especially when your nurse can't seem to find a vein without hitting a valve (can we say Ouch!?). But now there is a new king at the top of the hill--a CT scan. Not the scan itself, mind you, but the barium sulfate you have to drink twice before you go in for one.
I thought I'd pulled a muscle in my abdomen about two weeks ago, when I experienced some intense, burning pain in my lower right side. (I know what you're thinking...I'm getting there.) I figured it was from hefting DS, who is quite a chunk and at the top of the growth charts. So I figured it would be better in a few days and left it at that. It did fade back and became an annoyance at best.
Then on Sunday I had some, er, gastrointestinal issues, to put it delicately, that had me wondering if perhaps the abdominal pain was partially responsible. I called my doctor and got in to see him the next day, oh fun. As luck would have it I already had an appointment with my OB for my annual exam (oh glee!), and she ruled out an ectopic pregnancy (and pregnancy, period--phew) and a hernia along my c-section incision. Oh-kay. The family practice doc I saw later in the day said I needed a CT scan right away, and hemmed and hawed around truly nasty possibilities (like colorectal cancer) and the more obvious (appendicitis, anyone?). However, he also said it could be a nasty intestinal parasite or germ causing my symptoms...oh and by the way did I know my thyroid is enlarged? So let's take a look at that too. *sigh*
So I went home, toting my 2 bottles of berry flavored barium sulfate to chug 2 hours and 1 hour before my appointment, respectively. And no food for 4 hours prior. Hmm. The next day I choked my way through the first bottle, which DH kindly put in a glass so I could attempt to delude myself for 10 nanoseconds that I wasn't drinking a horrible, chalky, DISGUSTING CONCOCTION OF SATAN...er, sorry about that...memories. *shudder* I don't know how I choked down the 2nd batch, but I finally told DH to toss the last 10 or so mL because I was going to throw up if I attempted to drink any more.
That done, I got to go to the clinic and wait. I swear, and DH can attest this is the truth, every single time I was doing something complicated with my keyhole scarf (like undoing stitches and picking them back up to re-do a section where I twisted one side...but it's all fine now, yes, just fine...) they called me back for something else! First to poke me with a needle, take my blood, and set up an IV. An IV? For a CT scan? For pete's sake! And then they had me sign the permission form for the contrast dye (hey, I thought they only wanted to look at my abdomen here, why do you need to light up my veins like Christmas trees?), and then to get undressed and into a very gaping gown and finally get put in place inside what can only be described as Homer Simpson's fondest dream, i.e., a very large doughnut. And hold my breath for ages, while being injected with dye that made me feel as if I was wetting myself. Oh the absolute FUN of these CT scans, I'm telling you! Did I mention the 200 mL of barium sulfate I had to drink just before? No? Well that was the best part! < /sarcasm>
Anyhoo, then we got sent to a mysterious "Dr. X's office upstairs" without any word of who he was or why I was being sent to see him, and then we see that he is a general surgeon. So of course I have visions of tumors or other nasty things, as we thought that if it were my appendix they would have sent me straight to the hospital. But then the nurse gives me a pamphlet kindly titled, 'Appendicitis: Diagnosis and Treatment'. Oh thank you very much. And we waited, and waited, and waited some more for Dr. X to finally show up and tell me what the heck was going on with my system, which was clearly doomed...
And Dr. X came in, and reviewed my PERFECTLY NORMAL CT scan with me. No inflammation. No tumors. Nothing out of the ordinary. Dr. X thinks I have either a virus or nasty germ inhabiting my intestines, and the bloodwork and additional tests (we will just gloss over what THOSE are, TYVM) should pinpoint the culprit. My abdominal pain? It could be related to the bug, could just be a pulled muscle like I originally thought. We don't know for sure.
So I'm going back in a week to review the test results, and I also have a thyroid scan to look forward to next week. And once again modern medicine proves how, even with all the machines that go beep and bip, they don't always know what is going on with your body and quite often are scratching their heads and covering their rears for insurance purposes. Not that I mind that, I would much rather know if it were something serious...but after all that portentous waiting and silence, one does get one's knickers in a twist about the vagaries of the medical "process".
Now that I've gone through childbirth and then a c-section, I know there are far worse things. Having a catheter in your bladder is one. Having an IV is another, especially when your nurse can't seem to find a vein without hitting a valve (can we say Ouch!?). But now there is a new king at the top of the hill--a CT scan. Not the scan itself, mind you, but the barium sulfate you have to drink twice before you go in for one.
I thought I'd pulled a muscle in my abdomen about two weeks ago, when I experienced some intense, burning pain in my lower right side. (I know what you're thinking...I'm getting there.) I figured it was from hefting DS, who is quite a chunk and at the top of the growth charts. So I figured it would be better in a few days and left it at that. It did fade back and became an annoyance at best.
Then on Sunday I had some, er, gastrointestinal issues, to put it delicately, that had me wondering if perhaps the abdominal pain was partially responsible. I called my doctor and got in to see him the next day, oh fun. As luck would have it I already had an appointment with my OB for my annual exam (oh glee!), and she ruled out an ectopic pregnancy (and pregnancy, period--phew) and a hernia along my c-section incision. Oh-kay. The family practice doc I saw later in the day said I needed a CT scan right away, and hemmed and hawed around truly nasty possibilities (like colorectal cancer) and the more obvious (appendicitis, anyone?). However, he also said it could be a nasty intestinal parasite or germ causing my symptoms...oh and by the way did I know my thyroid is enlarged? So let's take a look at that too. *sigh*
So I went home, toting my 2 bottles of berry flavored barium sulfate to chug 2 hours and 1 hour before my appointment, respectively. And no food for 4 hours prior. Hmm. The next day I choked my way through the first bottle, which DH kindly put in a glass so I could attempt to delude myself for 10 nanoseconds that I wasn't drinking a horrible, chalky, DISGUSTING CONCOCTION OF SATAN...er, sorry about that...memories. *shudder* I don't know how I choked down the 2nd batch, but I finally told DH to toss the last 10 or so mL because I was going to throw up if I attempted to drink any more.
That done, I got to go to the clinic and wait. I swear, and DH can attest this is the truth, every single time I was doing something complicated with my keyhole scarf (like undoing stitches and picking them back up to re-do a section where I twisted one side...but it's all fine now, yes, just fine...) they called me back for something else! First to poke me with a needle, take my blood, and set up an IV. An IV? For a CT scan? For pete's sake! And then they had me sign the permission form for the contrast dye (hey, I thought they only wanted to look at my abdomen here, why do you need to light up my veins like Christmas trees?), and then to get undressed and into a very gaping gown and finally get put in place inside what can only be described as Homer Simpson's fondest dream, i.e., a very large doughnut. And hold my breath for ages, while being injected with dye that made me feel as if I was wetting myself. Oh the absolute FUN of these CT scans, I'm telling you! Did I mention the 200 mL of barium sulfate I had to drink just before? No? Well that was the best part! < /sarcasm>
Anyhoo, then we got sent to a mysterious "Dr. X's office upstairs" without any word of who he was or why I was being sent to see him, and then we see that he is a general surgeon. So of course I have visions of tumors or other nasty things, as we thought that if it were my appendix they would have sent me straight to the hospital. But then the nurse gives me a pamphlet kindly titled, 'Appendicitis: Diagnosis and Treatment'. Oh thank you very much. And we waited, and waited, and waited some more for Dr. X to finally show up and tell me what the heck was going on with my system, which was clearly doomed...
And Dr. X came in, and reviewed my PERFECTLY NORMAL CT scan with me. No inflammation. No tumors. Nothing out of the ordinary. Dr. X thinks I have either a virus or nasty germ inhabiting my intestines, and the bloodwork and additional tests (we will just gloss over what THOSE are, TYVM) should pinpoint the culprit. My abdominal pain? It could be related to the bug, could just be a pulled muscle like I originally thought. We don't know for sure.
So I'm going back in a week to review the test results, and I also have a thyroid scan to look forward to next week. And once again modern medicine proves how, even with all the machines that go beep and bip, they don't always know what is going on with your body and quite often are scratching their heads and covering their rears for insurance purposes. Not that I mind that, I would much rather know if it were something serious...but after all that portentous waiting and silence, one does get one's knickers in a twist about the vagaries of the medical "process".
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
And Then There Is This...and This...and This...
So we've been trying to unpack more of our stuff because, well, after living here for eighteen months it seems appropriate to finally finish unpacking. Naturally the thought has crossed our minds that if we've lived without it for eighteen months, we don't need it. And this is true for many things. The sole remaining tealight candleholder of a matching set of three--going away. It's an opalescent glass finish that I never cared for anyway, and now that its two sisters are broken and long forgotten I am quite happy to say goodbye. Ditto the etched pub glasses, surplus wineglasses (which we have in abundance), yucky inherited vases from my great aunt...and there's plenty more.
Some of this stuff should have been disposed of sooner. For instance, the aforementioned vases from my great aunt were handed down with the instruction to get rid of them as we chose. I will attempt to Ebay them, as they are somewhat old and not in a style which I like. I can add a few biscuit jars to that list, also courtesy of my great aunt. And, we don't really need the 18" electric lawnmower now that we have a HUGE lawn to maintain and have a riding lawnmower.
DH & I spent some enlightening time unpacking and sorting things. At first we were going to give it all away, but then we remembered the church rummage sale, and oh yeah, that big thing called our DEBT that could use any extra funds we could amass through a garage sale.
We also found some fun stuff--pictures for our walls, forgotten objets d'art which I'm quite fond of and am now quite happy to display again (including my Irish pottery collection). And unpacking my formal china at long last means I finally have it to use on the rare occasion that I feel like doing so, even if it does mean handwashing them. Likewise finding the family heirloom silver is a good thing, even if it means I have to buy silver polish again. Still, it's nice to have those pieces of family history out, and I even hung up the 1814 sampler stitched by some long-forgotten relative. It also reminded me that I need to have that professionally cleaned and mounted, and so I will start my piddly fund to save up the $200-$500 for that piece of work.
Naturally we also found toys for DS, which DD has outgrown. The instant she saw them, she laid claim to them, but we are slowly reinforcing the notion that she's outgrown them and they are DS' toys now. I think that will take a fewyears months to sink in.
So we have a slowly growing pile of things to Ebay (including a never used REI camping/hiking backpack--any takers?) and things to sell at our garage sale, at some nebulous time next spring/summer. And things to donate to the church rummage sale next fall. Piles again, people! I just can't get rid of them! These are GOOD piles though, right? That's my opinion, anyway.
Some of this stuff should have been disposed of sooner. For instance, the aforementioned vases from my great aunt were handed down with the instruction to get rid of them as we chose. I will attempt to Ebay them, as they are somewhat old and not in a style which I like. I can add a few biscuit jars to that list, also courtesy of my great aunt. And, we don't really need the 18" electric lawnmower now that we have a HUGE lawn to maintain and have a riding lawnmower.
DH & I spent some enlightening time unpacking and sorting things. At first we were going to give it all away, but then we remembered the church rummage sale, and oh yeah, that big thing called our DEBT that could use any extra funds we could amass through a garage sale.
We also found some fun stuff--pictures for our walls, forgotten objets d'art which I'm quite fond of and am now quite happy to display again (including my Irish pottery collection). And unpacking my formal china at long last means I finally have it to use on the rare occasion that I feel like doing so, even if it does mean handwashing them. Likewise finding the family heirloom silver is a good thing, even if it means I have to buy silver polish again. Still, it's nice to have those pieces of family history out, and I even hung up the 1814 sampler stitched by some long-forgotten relative. It also reminded me that I need to have that professionally cleaned and mounted, and so I will start my piddly fund to save up the $200-$500 for that piece of work.
Naturally we also found toys for DS, which DD has outgrown. The instant she saw them, she laid claim to them, but we are slowly reinforcing the notion that she's outgrown them and they are DS' toys now. I think that will take a few
So we have a slowly growing pile of things to Ebay (including a never used REI camping/hiking backpack--any takers?) and things to sell at our garage sale, at some nebulous time next spring/summer. And things to donate to the church rummage sale next fall. Piles again, people! I just can't get rid of them! These are GOOD piles though, right? That's my opinion, anyway.
Saturday, October 6, 2007
The Art of Giving Directions
SO, apparently in addition to the need for hospitality training (see prior blog here), people need to be informed of how to give directions that actually bring people to your house. Today we trekked two hours away to visit DH's mother's sister's neighbors' son and his family. Convoluted, yes, but the short story is this woman is a longtime friend of MIL, she and her husband were visiting their son who also lives here (relatively speaking), and they insisted we come to visit them with the kids, since their kids are the same ages. Ho-kay.
DH asked for directions a few days ago, and we received an email with a link to an online map, but no actual address (hmmm) and the added information that "no search engine we've found" has been able to properly map their address. Upon reading this forwarded email from DH, my brow wrinkled momentarily but I figured we would get the address and then see for ourselves what we could turn up.
Today we piled into the car hurriedly, as we were leaving about 20 minutes later than we thought we should, and even though the Irish are notoriously lax about timing we didn't want to assume that courtesy (or lack thereof!) extended to the unknown expat son and fam. So we were in a rush and I didn't print up the map. DH had his Blackberry, he could pull up the email, and besides we had the hand-me-down GPS unit which my parents gifted us with on their last trip. No problem.
So the first problem was the GPS unit did not recognize the house number and street which we entered in, which DH had pried from the son in a last minute email yesterday. Ok, we can wing it, right? Second problem was DH's Blackberry could not load the online map which was contained in the email. Apparently it does not have the right interface for Blackberry (I could hint as to what corporation provided this online map system but I will be polite and refrain, as the aforementioned neighbors' son works for it). Gee thanks.
DH used a GPS program on his Blackberry to locate the general vicinity to which we were headed, and we picked a random address that the hand-me-down GPS unit recognized in the same neighborhood and just went with that. The hand-me-down unit started failing us due to the incorrect address, and then we relied solely on the Blackberry's GPS program. We got to the correct, supposedly last street before the turn-off for their street, and drove up and down it for five minutes before concluding that we would require their assistance and rang.
That is when we were told that we had to look for Xth Street, and turn onto that street before we turned onto THEIR street. Ah, you see, that is a critical bit of information. If the last street before you turn onto your street is in fact, the second to last street, don't you think it would be polite to mention that to guests? Would you not have noted down the name of this street in the, oh, seven years you've lived there? So you can tell people how to get to your house without issue?
Oh yes, and what is wrong with using some other recognizable landmarks? Such as, the clearly printed name of your subdivision which is visible from the name of the road you DID give out as the "last street" before you turn onto the street which your house is actually on? When that "last street" is really the second-to-last street? Hmmm? Or even saying, "It's a very quick right onto Xth Street, then another very quick right"? Is that so very difficult to do?
I guess we are just odd. We give directions in terms of right and left, as well as compass directions (north, south, etc), and also give some clues as to landmarks (near this store/gas station/strip mall; up the big hill, etc). Basically, when we invite people over to our house, we sincerely want them to arrive on time and having been able to easily find us. We don't like to find frazzled guests on our doorstop, late, and irritated by the hassle of trying to decipher poor directions to find us at long last. But I suppose it's yet another indication of thoughtlessness at best and apathy at worst!
Now we are going to reciprocate with an invitation for them to come to visit us soon, but I don't know if they will come. The connection being tenuous at best, coupled with the 2 hour drive, makes it a bit of a stretch under the best of circumstances. However, we do feel obligated to do so, and I'm sure MIL and her friend will be badgering both of us (both families) to "get together again soon". So we will invite them and we will be happy for them to come. I doubt there will be lifelong friendships born, but it is always nice to have a touchpoint for DH in terms of a fellow countryman who knows what life is like in a big, nosy Irish family. That is worth some bungled directions, I suppose. *LOL*
DH asked for directions a few days ago, and we received an email with a link to an online map, but no actual address (hmmm) and the added information that "no search engine we've found" has been able to properly map their address. Upon reading this forwarded email from DH, my brow wrinkled momentarily but I figured we would get the address and then see for ourselves what we could turn up.
Today we piled into the car hurriedly, as we were leaving about 20 minutes later than we thought we should, and even though the Irish are notoriously lax about timing we didn't want to assume that courtesy (or lack thereof!) extended to the unknown expat son and fam. So we were in a rush and I didn't print up the map. DH had his Blackberry, he could pull up the email, and besides we had the hand-me-down GPS unit which my parents gifted us with on their last trip. No problem.
So the first problem was the GPS unit did not recognize the house number and street which we entered in, which DH had pried from the son in a last minute email yesterday. Ok, we can wing it, right? Second problem was DH's Blackberry could not load the online map which was contained in the email. Apparently it does not have the right interface for Blackberry (I could hint as to what corporation provided this online map system but I will be polite and refrain, as the aforementioned neighbors' son works for it). Gee thanks.
DH used a GPS program on his Blackberry to locate the general vicinity to which we were headed, and we picked a random address that the hand-me-down GPS unit recognized in the same neighborhood and just went with that. The hand-me-down unit started failing us due to the incorrect address, and then we relied solely on the Blackberry's GPS program. We got to the correct, supposedly last street before the turn-off for their street, and drove up and down it for five minutes before concluding that we would require their assistance and rang.
That is when we were told that we had to look for Xth Street, and turn onto that street before we turned onto THEIR street. Ah, you see, that is a critical bit of information. If the last street before you turn onto your street is in fact, the second to last street, don't you think it would be polite to mention that to guests? Would you not have noted down the name of this street in the, oh, seven years you've lived there? So you can tell people how to get to your house without issue?
Oh yes, and what is wrong with using some other recognizable landmarks? Such as, the clearly printed name of your subdivision which is visible from the name of the road you DID give out as the "last street" before you turn onto the street which your house is actually on? When that "last street" is really the second-to-last street? Hmmm? Or even saying, "It's a very quick right onto Xth Street, then another very quick right"? Is that so very difficult to do?
I guess we are just odd. We give directions in terms of right and left, as well as compass directions (north, south, etc), and also give some clues as to landmarks (near this store/gas station/strip mall; up the big hill, etc). Basically, when we invite people over to our house, we sincerely want them to arrive on time and having been able to easily find us. We don't like to find frazzled guests on our doorstop, late, and irritated by the hassle of trying to decipher poor directions to find us at long last. But I suppose it's yet another indication of thoughtlessness at best and apathy at worst!
Now we are going to reciprocate with an invitation for them to come to visit us soon, but I don't know if they will come. The connection being tenuous at best, coupled with the 2 hour drive, makes it a bit of a stretch under the best of circumstances. However, we do feel obligated to do so, and I'm sure MIL and her friend will be badgering both of us (both families) to "get together again soon". So we will invite them and we will be happy for them to come. I doubt there will be lifelong friendships born, but it is always nice to have a touchpoint for DH in terms of a fellow countryman who knows what life is like in a big, nosy Irish family. That is worth some bungled directions, I suppose. *LOL*
Friday, October 5, 2007
Requiem for a Spider
I did something bad today. I immolated a spider in our woodstove. I don't think it stood a chance, what with the 4 hour Duraflame log I used to kickstart things. I did try to get it to climb onto the poker when I saw it crawling in the back corner of the stove, but I think crawling near the flames licking the newspaper kindling was a bit too much for its tiny brain to accept, as well as crawling onto a metal bar instead of staying on the familiar wood log, which unfortunately was piled on top of the Duraflame log.
*sigh* I know some of you are probably laughing now. It's just a spider, you say. Well, yes. But, it is a living creature, and where possible we are supposed to preserve life. Just look at Genesis 2:15, "Then the LORD God took the man and put him into the garden of Eden to cultivate it and keep it." You see that? "Keep it", as in, take care of it. All of it. The plants, animals, the whole works. Heck, it was Adam who named everything (Gen. 2:20).
This is the spring of my particular breed of environmentalism. I believe we have been entrusted with all of these resources, and we are to take care of them and cultivate them. So even though a lowly, tiny spider might seem insignificant, it had a job to play, too. And frankly I was too lazy when I saw it skitter over the log, to take it outside and shake it off. I hoped that the spider had fallen off onto the logs below, but I didn't check. I was careless. Like many, I thought, "It's just a little spider," and recklessly shoved the log into our stove and lit the fire. But seeing it skitter around in there, well, it made me realize that I was just being callous. I was too lazy to put the spider outside in the garden, where he/she belonged. Instead I just tossed him away, subjecting him to a terrible death by fire. :(
Yes, it was just a little spider. But at what point does callousness turn into cruelty? I think our society would be far, far better off if we all checked ourselves for callousness in the "little things" before we reach the cruel stage. Because it's insidious, and deadly, because at the heart of it, it's sin. And we need to be mindful of our attitudes about life, however small and insignificant it appears to us.
I mourn for the spider. I'm sorry. :~(
*sigh* I know some of you are probably laughing now. It's just a spider, you say. Well, yes. But, it is a living creature, and where possible we are supposed to preserve life. Just look at Genesis 2:15, "Then the LORD God took the man and put him into the garden of Eden to cultivate it and keep it." You see that? "Keep it", as in, take care of it. All of it. The plants, animals, the whole works. Heck, it was Adam who named everything (Gen. 2:20).
This is the spring of my particular breed of environmentalism. I believe we have been entrusted with all of these resources, and we are to take care of them and cultivate them. So even though a lowly, tiny spider might seem insignificant, it had a job to play, too. And frankly I was too lazy when I saw it skitter over the log, to take it outside and shake it off. I hoped that the spider had fallen off onto the logs below, but I didn't check. I was careless. Like many, I thought, "It's just a little spider," and recklessly shoved the log into our stove and lit the fire. But seeing it skitter around in there, well, it made me realize that I was just being callous. I was too lazy to put the spider outside in the garden, where he/she belonged. Instead I just tossed him away, subjecting him to a terrible death by fire. :(
Yes, it was just a little spider. But at what point does callousness turn into cruelty? I think our society would be far, far better off if we all checked ourselves for callousness in the "little things" before we reach the cruel stage. Because it's insidious, and deadly, because at the heart of it, it's sin. And we need to be mindful of our attitudes about life, however small and insignificant it appears to us.
I mourn for the spider. I'm sorry. :~(
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Is It Supposed to Work This Way?
I have this fungal infection of some sort going on in my thumb. Something that's been bugging me for nearly the whole summer, which finally festered over and emerged as ugly dry, cracked, bleeding skin that hurt like h3LL whenever I had to push the carseat buttons or do anything else with my thumb.
So I finally dragged myself to our family practice doctor for the first time, and she diagnosed it as some type of fungal infection and prescribed an antifungal and steroidal cream to apply three times a day or whenever I get a second with 2 preschool children. (She's a mom to a preschooler--she knows how often handwashing is occurring around here.)
That was nearly a month ago. She casually suggested I might also soak the offending digit in a diluted vinegar solution twice a day. As can be expected, I was quite vigilant about applying the cream and skipped the vinegar for the first week, and it appeared to be clearing up. I thought, "Hooray!" and became less vigilant about applying the cream. Lo and behold, a week later, there I was with cracked and bleeding skin again, and a very sour outlook on this whole "unknown fungus" that my skin is battling against.
I mean, is it fair that I do a good thing, trying to improve our yard by gardening, and am attacked by some virulent pathogenic fungus from my soil for my efforts?? It just doesn't seem right! Now I am tossing out my gardening gloves in case they are harboring these nasty spores, and eyeing the rhododendrons and weeds with an evil eye lest they are responsible for this calamity. I was actually trying to play my harp on a semi-regular basis here! I was getting reasonably decent with some easy Christmas pieces! And now this! I'm liable to split my thumb open if I touch my harp, spewing venomous fungal spores all over its strings!
*sulk* SO, here I sit, with my thumb in vinegar. It stings like h3LL and after I can't take it any more, I will lather it with cream that will make it sting in a whole new, semi-numbing way. Is this how the cure is SUPPOSED to work? Hmmm? And at what point am I going to be sick of having a thumb smelling of vinegar? Since I'm still breastfeeding, oral antifungal medication is out. So I guess I will continue to have a stinging thumb, smelling of vinegar, and hope eventually whatever this nasty little single-celled organism is, it DIES and leaves my skin alone! Harrumph.
So I finally dragged myself to our family practice doctor for the first time, and she diagnosed it as some type of fungal infection and prescribed an antifungal and steroidal cream to apply three times a day or whenever I get a second with 2 preschool children. (She's a mom to a preschooler--she knows how often handwashing is occurring around here.)
That was nearly a month ago. She casually suggested I might also soak the offending digit in a diluted vinegar solution twice a day. As can be expected, I was quite vigilant about applying the cream and skipped the vinegar for the first week, and it appeared to be clearing up. I thought, "Hooray!" and became less vigilant about applying the cream. Lo and behold, a week later, there I was with cracked and bleeding skin again, and a very sour outlook on this whole "unknown fungus" that my skin is battling against.
I mean, is it fair that I do a good thing, trying to improve our yard by gardening, and am attacked by some virulent pathogenic fungus from my soil for my efforts?? It just doesn't seem right! Now I am tossing out my gardening gloves in case they are harboring these nasty spores, and eyeing the rhododendrons and weeds with an evil eye lest they are responsible for this calamity. I was actually trying to play my harp on a semi-regular basis here! I was getting reasonably decent with some easy Christmas pieces! And now this! I'm liable to split my thumb open if I touch my harp, spewing venomous fungal spores all over its strings!
*sulk* SO, here I sit, with my thumb in vinegar. It stings like h3LL and after I can't take it any more, I will lather it with cream that will make it sting in a whole new, semi-numbing way. Is this how the cure is SUPPOSED to work? Hmmm? And at what point am I going to be sick of having a thumb smelling of vinegar? Since I'm still breastfeeding, oral antifungal medication is out. So I guess I will continue to have a stinging thumb, smelling of vinegar, and hope eventually whatever this nasty little single-celled organism is, it DIES and leaves my skin alone! Harrumph.
Would This Be Acceptable...
...to the Department of Health? I find myself asking this question when I peruse the state of my kickboard under the kitchen cabinets. I am quite sure that most days the Department of Health would not certify my kitchen "A", given that I routinely have bits of stuff in that annoying under cabinet space where my vacuum cleaner does not reach and I have to use the wand attachment to clean out. And frankly this only happens every three weeks or so, when I ask myself "the Department of Health" question and thereby convince myself of the necessity for vacuuming my cabinet kickplate space.
Of course you think to yourself that "people will notice!" when your house is dirty, but the reality is that most people probably don't notice, and I've been looking at other people's homes to reassure myself of this fact. When company is coming not everyone has the entire house spic and span. Mind you, most of the people we know have their house significantly less cluttered and decidedly minimalist, but I am afraid you'll have to give me another decade or so to unlearn ingrained family clutterbug tendencies.
I think most people have their hot button things that they can't have dirty when company comes. As I discovered during my recovery from DS' birth, my MIL cannot abide cluttered surfaces, and swept all of our clutter into bags for her own personal sanity in advance of guests arriving. Personally I don't like having dirty toilets when company is coming. If my commodes are less than spic and span, I am not a happy camper. I can tolerate dirty floors to a degree if they are freshly vacuumed, and can even tolerate mildly dirty floors in need of vacuuming. I absolutely cannot have dirty dishes in the sink or a dirty stovetop. Kickplate space I can ignore as a general rule if I had to vacuum in a hurry. Likewise clutter is completely not on my radar.
I've been lucky today because both of our urchins tolerated a good vacuuming with reasonable good humor, although their beneficence in the behavior arena did not extend long enough for me to clean the birdcage. And now that I really need to fold about 4 loads of laundry and put them away, of course DS is being, well, bratty. He is insisting on conking his head on every surface, has spilled stale urine from DD's training potty (the potty itself awaits DH's cleaning attention, as I get so P!$$ed, haha, that he has the nasty habit of not emptying it promptly after she uses it), and is in general being an Obnoxious Teething Monster. DD is being very good, and has drawn a lovely collage of faces for me. Apart from the fact that she is in a PullUp after having yet another accident, she is doing good.
Now the plan! I'm going to fold laundry when DH gets home, sans children. My own little 30 minutes of child-free time, watching a snippet of "Pride and Prejudice" for the umpteenth time. Ahhhhh. Everyone has to have a plan, even if it's asking yourself, "Would the Department of Health tolerate this?"
Of course you think to yourself that "people will notice!" when your house is dirty, but the reality is that most people probably don't notice, and I've been looking at other people's homes to reassure myself of this fact. When company is coming not everyone has the entire house spic and span. Mind you, most of the people we know have their house significantly less cluttered and decidedly minimalist, but I am afraid you'll have to give me another decade or so to unlearn ingrained family clutterbug tendencies.
I think most people have their hot button things that they can't have dirty when company comes. As I discovered during my recovery from DS' birth, my MIL cannot abide cluttered surfaces, and swept all of our clutter into bags for her own personal sanity in advance of guests arriving. Personally I don't like having dirty toilets when company is coming. If my commodes are less than spic and span, I am not a happy camper. I can tolerate dirty floors to a degree if they are freshly vacuumed, and can even tolerate mildly dirty floors in need of vacuuming. I absolutely cannot have dirty dishes in the sink or a dirty stovetop. Kickplate space I can ignore as a general rule if I had to vacuum in a hurry. Likewise clutter is completely not on my radar.
I've been lucky today because both of our urchins tolerated a good vacuuming with reasonable good humor, although their beneficence in the behavior arena did not extend long enough for me to clean the birdcage. And now that I really need to fold about 4 loads of laundry and put them away, of course DS is being, well, bratty. He is insisting on conking his head on every surface, has spilled stale urine from DD's training potty (the potty itself awaits DH's cleaning attention, as I get so P!$$ed, haha, that he has the nasty habit of not emptying it promptly after she uses it), and is in general being an Obnoxious Teething Monster. DD is being very good, and has drawn a lovely collage of faces for me. Apart from the fact that she is in a PullUp after having yet another accident, she is doing good.
Now the plan! I'm going to fold laundry when DH gets home, sans children. My own little 30 minutes of child-free time, watching a snippet of "Pride and Prejudice" for the umpteenth time. Ahhhhh. Everyone has to have a plan, even if it's asking yourself, "Would the Department of Health tolerate this?"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)