Space Germs

Please tell me the Peruvian Comet is just a publicity stunt for the newly, re-made “Invasion of the Body Snatchers.”

I really hate that Peruvian comet.
It makes me sick.
I want to vomit.

Depression

Depression is anger without enthusiasm.

A Close Call (RE-call that is)!

Tonight BF and I were checking out at the grocery store. Things were proceeding apace until the checker came to a package of Nissan chow mein that wouldn’t scan properly. Finally he called an assistant manager over to asked the price.

“Oh, these have been recalled,” explained the assistant manager. The checker and assistant manager just stood there dumbly for a moment not knowing what to say next.

“I don’t want it,” I said.

The whole way home I though about what could have possibly contaminated the chow mein and what evil fate would have befallen me if I had consumed it.

When I couldn’t stand it any more, I had BF google on “chow mein recall.” He discovered that the SHRIMP chow mein contained…SHELLFISH!

Specifically it contained lobster and cod. Hell! I’d pay extra for lobster and cod. I suppose it could harm someone with a shellfish allergy…but if I knew I had a shellfish allergy, I’d stay away from shrimp-flavored cup-o-soup. Some imagined terrors are just that.

First the pho, then the chow mein...This was my second near-death by noodles experience! I better just stay away from the noodles.

I’m Still Here

I know I’ve been TERRIBLE lately. The new job is indeed cutting into the blogging activities. I will try to do better.

Kalashnikov

Last Wednesday night, BF and I walked to the nearby pub for $2.50 clam night. When went to the lady’s room there, I found a stack of brochures (in the lady’s room) from a firing range in the Poconos that rented all different kinds of fire arms and welcomed beginners.
I brought one of the brochures out to BF who exclaimed, “This is the place I was telling you about! We should go!”

After church today, we drove out to the Poconos for a fine afternoon of shooting!

I never shot a gun before in my life. They gave me the safety talk and put a .22 rifle in my hands to start. I was terrified. I was amazed when I actually hit the target it was pointing at! Seeing the bowling pin swinging on the end of the rope at the end of the range was so cool!

BF was VERY wise to move me to a larger gun quickly, or I probably would never shoot anything but a .22…ever.

I shot an AK-47! A Kalashnikov!

Should I Laugh or Cry?

This morning while I getting ready for work, BF stared at my butt. "Robert Crumb would love your ass!" he proclaimed. Aaaaaagh!

I felt like Devil Girl all day.

Pounds of Pancakes

For several years now, BF has wanted to get a griddle. I’m less enthusiastic. We once read a review of a particular griddle in Cook's Illustrated. It said the griddle was a good idea if you “fry pounds of bacon and mountains of pancakes every weekend.”

While BF and I do love to eat, we do NOT fry pounds of bacon and mountains of pancakes every weekend! Every time BF has brought up the griddle idea since then, I quickly point out that we don’t fry pounds of bacon and mountains of pancakes every weekend.

Well, today, BF proved me wrong!

This morning, he got out his America’s Test Kitchen recipe for blueberry pancakes and fried up a stack of ‘em! I packed them neatly two in freezer bags with little pieces of wax paper separating them. BF has breakfasts for a week!

We’re nowhere near as organized as SA D…but hey! BF is trying…and I helped!

Business Lunch

Today was my second day at my new job. So far so good….although I’m still in the “Oh! My God! I hope I’m up to the challenge!” phase.

I left this wonderful stress-free job..Why did I have to go and upset the applecart? Etc…

I remind myself of course that I’m making almost double what I did at that stress-free job and that this position is comparable to the last professional position I held. Fundraising is my career path and if I look at it objectively, I am right on track (especially considering I just relocated here in October).

I’m not a socio-phobe, but I do have enough social anxiety going on that going on that going out and asking people for large amounts of money keeps my brain out the existential cesspool. So, this is actually “good” for me.

There is just so damn much information to absorb, that I’m totally overwhelmed and a bit scatter-brained as a result. Yesterday in the rush of getting ready to leave in the morning, I left the beautiful lunch I packed on the bed right in front of the dog’s crate. When I got home last night and let Mr. Twister out, he exploded out of his crate and made a b-line for the warm antipasto salad! Poor little bastard probably smelled it all day!

I’m working in a very small office right now and it is a little strange, especially after being at such a large for-profit corporation, albeit briefly. The group I work with now, all meet for lunch at the table in our break-room. We all sit-down to lunch together the way a family sits down to dinner. We each have our own “place” at the table. We typically each bring our own food to the table, although yesterday, the President treated us, since the “brand-new development gal” forgot her lunch. It’s part of the corporate culture and is therefore important. I am making the effort to fit in although it is my strong preference to eat in the privacy of my office.

BTW: I still have about an hour commute each way as the completion of our new headquarters is about a month away. Everything is going to change when we move into the new office. It’s really going to be a beautiful new setting…and yes, VERY close to home. I can’t wait. On a good day, I’ll be able to leave the house at 7:58 am, Go home for lunch and then leave for the day at 4:02pm. Unfortunately, as an exempt, salaried, professional, I’ll probably be able to do this less than 2 weeks out of the year.

Just My Luck

I’m taking a week off between jobs and planned to FINALLY head down to the Pennsylvania Driver’s License Center and trade in my California License…when the state shuts down. Of course all the Driver’s License Centers are closed!

Perhaps by the end of the week, they’ll be able to balance the budget.

The Sphinx

My Mom is a great lover of animals. She has one beautiful fat and sassy indoor cat and two feral cats that live under her shed and on her back porch. The ferals are a mother and son that are neutered/spayed, current with their shots, well fed and accepting of my Mom’s (and ONLY my Mom’s) affection.

At 85, my Mom now focuses a huge portion of her attention on the maintenance of these cats. She is well versed in the brands and flavors of food these two feral cats prefer and is well familiar with which stores carry these brands and flavors at the best price. These cats have set their asses in the proverbial tub o’ butter. She’s running a four-star, feral cat bed and breakfast.

Several days ago however, things got a little difficult. A new cat showed up on the scene looking for…the hospice. The proprietor of the B&B had herself one hell of a customer service issue.

The new cat was in very bad shape. It was sick or injured or maybe both. Its face was partially eroded away in such a manner that made it resemble the sphinx, over in Egypt that is.

The poor animal was friendly enough that I think it must have been someone’s pet. It was obviously dying. The Sphinx continued to deteriorate until finally when I got over there yesterday afternoon, I found Mom in tears fanning flies away from it. She didn’t know what else she could do to make it more comfortable. It was a hot, humid afternoon and Mom had been at it for several hours. She began really crying, and explained that she didn’t have the strength to take the cat to be euthanized.

By the time I got he box and towel and BF collected, the regularly scheduled afternoon thunderstorm was well underway. BF put on rubber gloves and scooped up the sick cat. He put it in a cardboard cat carrier and we whisked it off into my car. The stench of death and gangrenous cat filled the car. The windows went down. I drove down the length of the town’s main thoroughfare pelted by huge raindrops, thunder and lightning crashing on each side.

And so, the Sphinx was put down. BF did the hard part, God bless him! I just drove. The wonderful emergency veterinary clinic didn’t charge us.

After putting the cat down, BF showered and then we got pizza, pierogies and potato pancakes and spent several hours with Mom, eating and chatting and getting things back to baseline.

It occurs to me that being “heroic” consist of simply doing what’s got to be done when others are to panicked and/or overwhelmed to do it. Keeping your head, remaining dispassionate and taking action when others around you are flipping out is a very good thing...although not always possible.

Happy July 4th!

I started out searching on the Internet today for a nice 4th of July image to post when I happened upon the site, “Doll Greetings.”

Wow! Very creepy indeed…especially seeing the first two dolls “waving” when I logged on. The jerky animation makes it look more like hitting.

St. Patrick's Day, 1950's Ideal "Posie" looks like she should be saying “Hi Chucky! Want a hand job?”

Madame Alexander's Queen Isabella and Christopher Columbus look like they’re up to no good.

1965 Grown Up Pos'n Tammy in 2001 Barbie London Tour outfit looks shockingly like Nicole Kidman al la Twilight Zone.

2002 Robert Tonner 14" Betsy McCall wearing handmade "Back to School" dress looks like a t…I mean developmentally disabled.

1992 Annalee "Back to School Girl" doll is the worst! I’m going to have nightmares! I think Back to School Girl was run over by the bus. She’s like a post-op terror. “Doctor! What have you done to my face?!? Oh no! My arm! Oh shit! I want my attorney!”

2000's Ann Estelle and her friends by the Tonner Doll Company have a strange “Stepford Wives” quality. I wouldn’t turn my back on them.

1960's "Hilda The Hillbilly" and 2000's Annalee Angel Christmas Ornament are very strange.

2003 Effanbee Gloria Ann doll wearing a dress made from a 1952 vintage sewing pattern has got a mean, plantation-owners daughter look to her. She’s probably pissed that 2005 Marley Wentworth doll by Robert Tonner got ahead of her in line. Gloria Ann looks like she could eat Chucky’s liver and wash it down with a nice mint julep. Now there’s a doll you could see smoking a cigarette!

Wee Patsyette by Effanbee from the 2005 Tonner Halloween Convention says “Help! I have a pumpkin stuck to my ass!”

So there you have it! Happy 4th of July!

I apologize in advance to who ever this might offend.

Her Methods Were Unsound

"They told me that you had gone totally insane, and that your methods were unsound." – Willard

"Are my methods unsound?" – Kurtz

"I don't see any method at all, sir." – Willard

Well, I think I’ve found the cure for the stinking feet disease…only I went about finding it with complete disregard for scientific method…so, I really don’t know what the cure is.

Instead of trying one thing at a time, I went to the store to get the Selsun Blu and also got Clotrimazole (1%) ointment, foot spray and I simultaneously began wearing Crocks around the house. The combination is working famously! I made BF smell my feet today after I got home from work and he had to admit they smelled like healthy, clean feet!

Crocks are really amazing. I bought them for the kayak trip, but fell in love with them afterward. They really are bacteria resistant and damned comfortable for wearing around the house…ok, I admit I wore them grocery shopping today. I’m surprised there are actually Croc Haters out there! Go figure.

One of the best things about them is I can wear them working out in the yard and if they get dirty, hose them down, dry them off, spay them with foot spray and have them back on my sweet smelling tootsies in under 5 minutes!

Crocks rock!

Seriously though,all Croc-loving aside…even though I don’t have scientific method to back me up, I still swear by the Selsun Blu. It kills nasty, itchy, smelly shit dead. Other sweet smelling bath and beauty soaps just can’t touch foot stink like Selsun Blu.

Moonlight Kayak Adventure

Last night, BF and I went on a 4-hour, full moon, river-kayaking adventure. Sounds lovely and romantic, doesn’t it?

BF wasn’t too keen on the idea at first, so I really had to sell him on the idea…”Oh! Kayaking is easy! It’s for beginners! Anyone can do it! You won’t get wet. It will be so beautiful. I’ve done it lots of times. It can’t be as difficult as ocean kayaking and that was easy.” He had never been kayaking before but kindly agreed to go.

I signed us up for the trip.

Last time I was kayaking was about 9 years ago in the ocean in Hawaii. I was 9 years younger, 70 lbs. lighter and in far better shape then. I just rented the boat and went out paddling around on my own. Prior to that I had only been kayaking in lakes in California…and again, those times, I simply rented a boat and took a leisurely little paddle. I assumed river kayaking at night couldn’t be very different…otherwise, they wouldn’t take beginners do it…right?

Ha ha ha!

BF gets to say “I told you so” as long as it takes him for him to tire of it! After last night, that might be a while. Although we’re both too damned tired to do much else.

The reality of what we were doing set in moments before we put out boats in the water. It was about 9:30 pm. The moon hadn’t risen yet and it was very dark. The river looked black and ominous and the safety briefing and signing of waivers left me feeling kind of queasy.

I wasn’t on the river more than 20 minutes before I ended up in the water! It was a very gentle spill. I paddled into the shallows, hit bottom and just fell out. One minute I was in the boat, the next minute, I was kneeling in about a foot and a half of warm river water, yelling, “CAPSIZED!” The wretched and utter shame welled up inside me. I was sure BF was somewhere ahead of me laughing his ass off…but I was WRONG! He had fallen in too!

We both had to paddle the rest of way in heavy, cold, wet, street clothes. The thermos of hot coffee I brought was somewhere at the bottom of the river. It was a little uncomfortable, but not a freezing as I thought it would be. Having to paddle as hard as we did to keep up with the group kept us warm…or at least kept our minds off the cold.

There were moments that were absolutely magical and many others that were just …well, moments.

Our lead guide (and tour owner) was really wonderful – very calm and confident. I followed him through one particularly treacherous part of water and made it through just fine. He called out commands to me. I did EXACTLTY what he said and amazingly it worked! His junior assistants were all very strong kayakers and could rescue you if you fell in, but lacked his coaching ability and great, reassuring boat-side manner. They ALL earned their money last night.

At the very end of the trip, I was shocked by the final stretch of water we passed through. If I knew water like that existed on that river, I would have never gone. At the very end of our safety briefing, we were told about a small waterfall, strong current and rapids…but by then my head was swimming and in some way it just didn’t register with me.

“WATERFALL!”…HELLO!

By the time we approached the final stretch, the lights on many (including BF and my) boats had burned out. Commands were yelled “Single File!” We were all supposed to follow one by one through a narrow ribbon of water, surrounded by rapids to the left...and the big dip to the right.

The currents were strong.

Second to last in line, I watch as BF fell out of his boat and went under, then popped up. I started yelling, “BF is Capsized!” and then realized I was being pulled into a strong eddy! I began paddling wildly, when the guide yelled back for me to “Just go with it, Barbora!” I did. I got a wild ride and my kayak was turned around completely, but I didn’t fall out! I got pulled into a beautiful area of dead water behind one of the supports for the bridge and just sat there enjoying the stunning view while the team pulled BF back to shore, drained the water from his boat and got him back on the river.

It was 1:30 am when we got back to the car and 3 am by the time we had a snack, warmed out bones and showered. We slept really well last night.

BF and I are EXTREMELY sore today. We both took aspirin before bed last night and again with our coffee this morning.

What was I thinking? I guess I wasn’t thinking…critically at least. Sometimes I still get myself an enthusiasm and just go with it. Perhaps this is a good thing?

For anyone who might be wondering or considering such an excursion themselves, river-kayaking is NOT the same as kayaking on a lake or even the ocean! It is very different. It is even more different when you’re over 40 and overweight.

Would I do it again? Maybe, provided I was in better shape (a little) and knew the river I was traveling on by daylight first….once the pain has dissipated, that is.

The tour owner phoned us today to see if we were…”alright?”
Ha ha ha! He REALLY earned his money last night!

Stinking Foot Disease

My feet stink. They stink really badly all of a sudden. I swear it’s so bad I think something must be wrong. Stinking foot disease. It smells like I’m rotting away feet first. I also have a deep, painful crack in the crease of the skin on my little toe.

Last night I bought myself a cute pair of strappy sandals on sale for $44 at DSW. This morning I showered and scrubbed between my toes with Dove, put on my brand new sandals... and by my 8:45 am staff meeting, I could smell them!

I rushed back to my cubicle after my meeting and dowsed my feet with the tiny bottle of hand sanitizer I got in a little gift bag from our insurance provider.

Pee-Whew!

The stuff smelled like vodka! So between the foot stench and vodka hand sanitizer smell, I had some major reeking lingering in my cubicle all morning.

I’m getting me a bottle of Selsun Blu and scrubbing those tootsies at least twice a day for a week. A co-worker once told me that in Vietnam, the service men all suffered from serious foot-rot and that Selsun Blu would kill any sort of nasty fungus that grew.

I hope I can save the sandals!

Tonight

It is a beautiful hot June night here in Pennsylvania –


All haze and fireflies and a waxing moon that will be full this weekend.


The painting is not set in Pennsylvania, but it gets the quality of the sky just right, so I'm posting it.

Pavor Nocturnus

Night Terrors…Yes, on top of all my other issues. I get night terrors. Any one else out there in hypochondria land suffer from night terrors???

I’ve been experiencing these at irregular intervals since (the earliest I can remember) 1990 ish. It’s got to be a little unsettling for BF, (and my ex-husband before him, and my previous ex-boyfriend, before him) since I wake up yelling my fucking head off. BF tells me there are times when I go through bouts of night terrors and wake up yelling almost every night during the week. I honestly don’t remember it EVER happening that much. Thank God for small favors!

I know it happened two nights in a row last week though. I began taking my Prozac again as a result.

Its’ like WHAM!! There I am in the face of mortality. Wide awake and yelling. It doesn’t involve specific disease fears, just my fear of death. Even death by old age…but it’s like suddenly I’m 90 and it’s an immediate reality. It’s like the Grim Reaper scene in Monty Python’s “The Meaning of Life.” The vision of the death approaching in film edits before the family dies from eating the tainted salmon casserole is truly one of the most frightening movie images ever!

Yes, it was probably just spoofing Bergman. But that doesn’t matter, it’s still scary!

The passing of time frightens me just as much as any illness out there. The passing of time IS the ultimate disease. It may not be the BEST reason to start going to church, but it is definitely in the top ten.

Wowie Zowie!

Sorry I disappeared there for a bit. It’s been a crazy week. My big news is that I received and accepted a job offer from an agency I interviewed with last February. It’s a real job in my field with the organization I most wanted to work for! Hooray! I start mid-July.

Candy Cigarettes

So candy cigarettes are linked to smoking. I can just imagine the academics groveling for money to fund that study. If the study DIDN'T prove that candy cigarettes were linked to smoking, careers were on the line.

Hell! Stay away from the gummy worms!

Alli

Gas, oily discharge and an inability to control bowel movements is a small price to pay for 50% more weight loss.

Alli, the new fat-blocker just hit the shelves and I got LAST package in the local drug store. Sales here indicate I’m not the only brave soul.

For $59.99, it better be EVERYTHING it promises and more. I'll keep you posted.

Greek Frittata

1/2 cup chopped spinach (not cooked)
4-6 medium eggs
1/2 cup crumbled feta cheese
2 scallions, thinly sliced
2 tablespoons chopped fresh dill
Freshly ground black pepper to taste
1 Tablespoon olive oil

Blend eggs with a fork in a medium bowl. Add feta, scallions, dill, pepper and the spinach; mix gently.

Set a rack about 4 inches from the heat source; preheat the broiler.

Heat oil in a cast iron nonstick skillet over medium heat. Pour in the egg mixture and tilt to distribute evenly. Reduce the heat to medium-low and cook until the bottom is light golden, lifting the edges to allow uncooked egg to flow underneath.

Place the pan under the broiler and cook until the top is set, 1 1/2 to 2 1/2 minutes.

Frittatas are so good and so easy!

The above recipe served with a Greek salad was dinner on Monday. This morning I made a different variation with bacon, provolone and no dill.

Mommy Dearest

This post is dedicated to The Perfect Hypochondriac.

Ever since BF and I have been working full time, my Mom has been coming over for about an hour each day to watch Mr. Twister. She’s so kind and generous. She gives him (and our antisocial cat) fresh water and takes him outside to go potty and then plays tug with him until he’s tired.

It’s been a blessing and a curse. A blessing for the dog, a curse for ME.

Mom is disappointed in me. Yes, “disappointed” as in “I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed.” The words that reduce most 12 year-olds to tears still have their power over me, even at 43.

I’m overweight, I’m a procrastinator and I’m a bad housekeeper. It’s 100%n TRUE.

I’ve kept these things from her for 16 years while I was away, but now she’s horrified. What really hurts is she’s right! I am a bad housekeeper. I suck!

I can do many things wonderfully, but I can’t seem to keep up with the normal, mundane shit, most folks do as a matter of course. She’s terrified that other relatives will come over to see the “progress” BF and I have made on this old house and see the squalor we actually live in. Truth be told, BF and I are quite happy with life here (usually).

Today she really got to me though. I stopped over to see her on my way home from work (so she can see me in business attire) to visit today and she was in rare form. She announced in tears that she didn’t want to come over any more because if she had a stroke while playing with Mr. Twister, emergency workers would come and would see my house and it would be condemned. Yes, “condemned.”

Ok, it’s true, I’m not a good housekeeper, but no one is going to condemn my house! I’ve still got enough of a grip on reality to recognize this. Comments like this have been a regular occurrence since BF got a job though and today it really felt like she’s wearing me down. I love her and won’t giver her shit back although she’s actually ENCOURAGED me to do so!!! I have this horrible vision of myself saying something smart to her and then having her die before morning.

Orrery

I forgot to mention that I got BF an Orrery at the great sale today.

CRA-AZY Saint John Slashes Prices!

I know I’ve posted before about one of my favorite dreams, the one where new rooms appear where there were none before. I then get to explore the new spaces and all the great stuff stored in them. Well, today I got to do it for real! Wow! Was it fun!

Quite by accident, I found out that one of the old, Catholic elementary schools that closed some time ago and the attached convent was having a sale.

It was an EVERYTHING goes sale that included furniture and architectural scrap. Basically, even if it was nailed down, if you could get it out, you were free to make an offer…cabinets, old wood work, stained glass windows, desks, books, teaching tools, podiums, etc…all circa 1920-1970.

We’re getting a few of the old steam radiators. One of our bedrooms (that we’re using for storage now) has no radiator, just a pipe in the floor where one should be. We’re also going to replace at least one other radiator that’s painted over. BF is getting a fantastic old, slate blackboard for his office and two cabinets.

We’ve got to line up a truck, tools and manual labor one night this week to claim our treasure. I’m almost tempted to get a couple more of the radiators and radiators covers to resell. Period hardware is a desirable thing. Probably a BAD idea…I would just end up with old radiators in my basement. There are also some awesome, built-in, wooden cabinets that would just rock in the kitchen, but I’d need a serious craftsman to get them out properly.

There were also a lot great religious items that were already promised to another church…a kneeler with screen for confessions, wooden pews and a stunning set of stations-of-the-cross done on wood. I want it all. I’m going to go to bed tonight and dream about my day.

Barborella

Full Throttle Energy Drink + Tequilla = The Barborella

A delicious summer drink over ice. Full Throttle and tequila really go smashingly together! I recommend Sauza Gold. It’s a great deal for the price.

It was so hot here today. I think it got up to 92 degrees and was about 80% humidity…pure barometric valium. About an hour and ago a thunderstorm rolled in and cooled things down to a comfortable sleeping temperature. BF conked right out. We went out tonight for Indian food. I agreed to let him order whatever he wanted from the menu instead of arguing for my favorites. We had the hottest Sag Paneer I’ve ever eaten in my life and Achari Goat. The goat was really good/complicated. It had pickled lemon rind in it. I should have tasted it first, because it turned out to be the more mild but sophisticated of the dishes. Once the hard burn of the sag paneer kicked in, my taste buds were pretty hashed. Now, it’s midnight and I feel like I swallowed a rock. We packed up quite a bit of food to take with us, but I still feel like I ate too much.

Welfare Island

This whole TB scare got me thinking about my Dad and Aunt and what an impression TB made upon them when they were young. It was much more prevalent during the 1930’s and 40’s. It was something I remember them talking about and was clearly something they feared. When I was about 25 years old, 5’7”, about 100 lbs. and in full party mode, Dad took me aside and warned me that TB was never eliminated completely and if I didn’t take better care of myself, I’d be at risk.

I kind of suspect that my Dad and Aunt both had hypochondriac and depressive tendencies but they are both gone now, and neither were willing to talk about it when they were alive. I’m not sure they were able. They really were from a different generation and didn’t have the self-help vocabulary I have today, or the relative comfort I have discussing such matters.

Before he went into the service my Dad was a bartender in a place that was owned by a couple who was infected with tuberculosis. While bartending, he was grateful not to be working in the mines, where his brother died, but when he was drafted, he was grateful to be away from the TB carriers.

My Aunt also had more than a passing encounter with TB. She worked as a nurse on Welfare Island and spent time in the TB ward. She had many stories about her time there, most of which were indelicate, to say the least, and were told over the table during holiday dinners. (If anyone is interested, I found a very nice posting by a woman who shares her memories of Welfare Island. She has kind words to say about the nursing care given to indigent patients. She makes me proud that my Aunt was there.) My Aunt told stories of impacted stool, swallowed chicken bones and TB patients. “Patients in the TB ward were very sexual,” she recalled, in her own vague words to that effect. She remembered that point and talked about what she perceived to be an expression of “life force.” I wish I could remember more, but I can’t. Maybe, it’s better. This way, her memories are not trivial or mundane to me – instead they are big and dark and important in ways I don’t understand.

The bottom line is that my Dad and Aunt lived pretty close to the disease and were not infected. Although TB is very contagious, coming in contact with carriers is not an automatic death sentence. If itwere, I wouldn’t be here blogging today. Cough –
This year’s summer reading list must include Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann.

Traveling with Baby?

I wonder if it’s sound proof?

XDR-TB Alert!

You sure don’t have to remind me how much I hate flying!

Back in the good old days they had good food, free flowing liquor, friendly business travelers and smoking sections. I know there are folks out there too young to remember this golden age…but I assure you it really existed. Now all you get uncomfortable seats, a crappy sandwich (if you’re lucky) and TB. AAGGHH!

This is the first US quarantine since 1963. AAGGHH!

Hypochondriac Eye for the PA Guy/Gal

One of my recent job assignments has been to research ideas for a company-wide wellness program. Ha ha! They have no idea how serious I am about “Wellness!”

My research has taken me to many exciting websites including the CDC and the Pennsylvania Department of Health. The subjects I’m specifically looking at for work are really pretty non-threatening, but my discerning, hypochondriac eye manages to draw me to far more interesting topics.

I am now fighting the compulsion to order some free brochures for personal use.

Some of the brochure titles are just so gripping, I find them hard to resist. “Anthrax,” “Management of Persons Exposed to Multi-Drug Resistance Tuberculosis,” “Preparing for Emergencies- Terrorism and Disasters; A handbook for your family” and “Viral Encephalitis” definitely fall into this category. I need to know more!

Then there is the category of pamphlets, I thank God and my luck stars I never saw as a young and impressionable child. If, at the age of say, 8, I was exposed to the “About HIV Coloring Book,” or “My Brother Got Aids an African American Man's Story,” I don’t know where I would be today. A padded cell perhaps? The fact that I am not African American or in any high-risk group would have been lost on me…heck! I don’t even have a brother.

There are also those children’s brochures that I know I would have thought were stupid and cheesy even at the age of 8. “Welcome to the World of Drugosaurs!” sounds like some well-intentioned, but dumber-than-dirt, adult’s idea of a good children’s prevention piece. Children can see right though that shit! REALLY!

Other compelling brochures are the unknowns, the wild cards. The titles I read and have no idea what they are about. I could be ignorant of serious health threats! Oh no! The Pennsylvania Department of Health though that “Campylo-Bacteriosis” and “Caritas Sonrientes” were important enough to make free brochures about and I don’t even know what they are!

“Children and Guns” is another simply amusing title. Sort of like “Drugs, Alcohol and Sex.” I can see where any one of these might be a fine thing on its own, but not in combination…sort of like pickled eggs, cigars and swimming. Wait a minute, on second thought, I’m getting my bathing suit!

The poster section is really great! I definitely want to order “Hepatitis C Don't Get Stuck With It,” “TB/HIV: Double Trouble” and “Think TB!” Imagine gazing at any one of those 16”x 20”, full color beauties first thing in the morning! Who needs coffee?

Alcoholism is a well-represented topic with a variety of brochures targeted to different demographic groups and translated in many languages. My favories are “She Lives Alone, She Drinks Alone” and “Theme Song for Recovery.” I had no idea sobriety had a theme song.

“When Shopping With Your Child Gives You a Headache” sounds pretty scary, as does “I Never Thought I'd Get Pregnant!” At 43, “I Never Thought I'd Get Pregnant!” takes on a whole new terrifying meaning. I just saw on the news the other day where a 60-year old woman gave birth to twins! I better order a free brochure about contraception too! They’ve got lots of those (translated into many languages).

“PA Pandemic Preparedness Tips for Pennsylvania Workers” – Try saying that three times fast! It also comes in poster form. What’s really slays me that immediately following these two publications is a third publication entitled “PA Pandemic Preparedness: Managing Personal Stress.” My suggestion would be NOT to order the first two publications in the first place and especially NOT hang up the friggin’ poster!

Finally, the icing on the cake, “Your Personal Hygiene”…I’ve got to know what the target demographic is!?!

Strange Diseases in Closed Communities

Naked Mennonite children, sleeping under cold blue light…eerie!

It’s always creepy to hear about strange diseases in closed communities, especially when those communities exist within larger developed areas like the US or Europe. It couldn’t happen here. I can picture the poor, suffering deformities hiding in root cellars and dark attics.

So many great horror stories are based on this idea. “Children of the Corn,” “The Secret of Harvest Home” or to a lesser degree M. Night Shyamalan’s “The Villiage”…not to mention numerous Lovecraft stories.

There’s an interesting article on Crigler-Najjar syndrome posted today on Yahoo News. It talks about rare diseases, particularly Crigler-Najjar syndrome, that have higher rates of occurrence in Mennonite communities. The names alone conjure up grotesque images… Crigler-Najjar syndrome, maple syrup urine disease, glutari aciduria, pigeon breast disease, pretzel syndeome, etc.

I imagine that before the Internet and other more immediate forms of mass communications developed, stories of disease and misfortune occurring in such closed communities were passed on in whispers that were embellished with each transmission.

Hooray!

BF got a job offer today!

The Tale of Mr. Twister

Leila V’s story is so damned funny, I am nearly in tears! She did the RIGHT thing.

BF and I have had conversations about shelter dogs, and he’s come up with a theory about them. BF’s theory on shelter dogs sates that they all suffer from at least one of three problems:

1. Too big
2. Too ugly
3. Just plain bad (the politically correct term is “poorly socialized”)

If you’re lucky, you’ll choose one whose only problem is ugly.

There but for the grace of God went our little monster! A pure white, miniature schnauzer I got from the shelter when he was 5 months old. The difference in my story is I was working for the animal shelter at the time!!! I discovered little Mr. Twister when I was taking a group of donors on a tour one evening! It was love at first sight. I swear it was like there was a golden light surrounding his kennel. I had to adopt him.

Then, things all started happening so fast, it was a blur. Next I knew, the little monster was living with BF, me and the cat in our messy little two-bedroom rental. Still, everything had a feeling of unreality to it. I bled $$’s on crates, food, baby gates, treats, toys, shots, micro-chip, collars, leashes, organic pet wipes and sundry other items.

He just got fixed before I took him home, and I guess the male hormones were still surging though the little guy’s system, because every waking minute I was around him, was a battle trying to get him to stop humping my leg, biting or crying. The separation anxiety was like nothing I ever experienced before. I would get in the shower upstairs and I’d hear Mr. Twister crying downstairs the WHOLE time.

The first morning I tried to take him for a walk was an experience I’ll never forget! He pulled and barked and went spastic the whole way out. I turned back in horror and shame and he then performed (a signature “Mr. Twister” move) “I bite your butt.” I dragged him the entire return walk hanging from the back of my jeans and jacket. Mr. Twister likes big butts. It was actually kind of embarrassing at times for BF to take him to dog-park without me. BF NOW tells me, that Mr. Twister always chose the prettiest, young things at the dog park! Perhaps it was a good thing I didn’t know this at the time. “Barbora’s boyfriend and dog ran off with some dog-park skank.” I would have been blameless.

At night, BF and I had to get in bed (NO radio) and lie perfectly still until Mr. Twister stopped crying and whining. If one of us so much as hiccupped, we were doomed to another 45 minutes of whimpering. Then one of us had to get up at 3am and take him on his night walk. At 3am his ear-piercing barks reverberated through the walls of the courtyard. Neighbors would open their windows and yell at us. After one week passed, I remember getting ready for bed, crating the dog and slipping between the sheets and sitting rigid. I began to cry. “What have I done!?!” We discussed stories about how the cat attacked him or how the cat was ailing since we brought Twister home…but No!…none of them rang true.

If I gave him back, my employers, all my coworkers, all the volunteers, donors and board of directors would know what a terrible human being I really was!

Then I got creative! “Oh! It was heartbreaking, how BF’s Mom who was undergoing radiation and chemo at the time bonded with him. It ‘BROKE OUR HEARTS’ to give him up, but he’s given her a new reason to live.” Yada, yada. Meanwhile, BF and I planned how we would take him and drop him off to a different shelter out of state.…

We celebrated Mr. Twister’s 1-Year anniversary with us in April.

We all went to obedience training, and had to enforce rules (admittedly, BF was better at this than I was). At first, every waking-minute, we had to be on high alert. It’s gotten better but we had a bit of trouble when we first arrived in the new house here in Pennsylvania and got lax about letting him sleep in the bed. He started to growl and snap, especially at BF. Bad idea. Rules need to stay consistent. Dogs don’t understand gray areas although they can be pretty darned good with hard and fast rules.

While I was writing this post, Mr. Twister managed to get into the trash can (a feat he’s recently mastered) and has been playing with a Red Zinger teabag. I LOVE this dog. I gotta’ go clean up the mess.

My Bad Self

Yes, I’m up to my bad self lately and right on track with my cycle of hypochondria. I’m in the post-anxiety, relief phase. Give me 5 to 8 months and I will probably be out of my f***ing head, worried about cancer or mad cow disease or flesh-eating bacteria.

Aahh! But, now it’s the relief phase. I’ve stopped taking Prozac for about a week now, because I feel good and begrudge the cost, now that I’m paying for it on my own. It’s expensive!

I know, I should just continue my meds and try to break the cycle.

I’m just so darn happy though! It’s spring. I love being back in Pennsylvania. I love the weather. I love the smell of morning and having my first cup of coffee, barefoot on the porch with the dog. I love the mild evenings. I LOVE working in the yard (much more than housework inside…and unfortunately it shows). I love sawing and chopping and digging and trimming, etc. We’re planting cabbages, peas, lavender, lemon balm, mint and clematis this weekend.

Happy blogging is boring, isn’t it?

Funny...

This is how BF always imagined it would be too!

Simplicity Made Less Simple

I’ve completed my first week of work at Acme, Corp. and am struck by so many different things. Sights, sounds, emotions, etc…I’m on sensory overload. I’m in culture shock. The strangest thing is…in a way; this is how I always imagined it would be!

How to explain?

When I was about 7 or 8 years old and imagined what it would be like to “have a job,” THIS is what I pictured!

The whole experience of elementary school (bell ringing, clearly defined tasks, etc) along with stories my Mom told, the books I read, photos I viewed and episodes of The Flintstones and other sit-coms I watched were all preparing me for THIS.

I’m not sure if it’s an East vs. West Cost thing, or a corporate vs. nonprofit thing, or an hourly vs. salaried thing?

I think in a way, we’re pretty much raised by our parents and teachers to be successful in the world THEY dealt with, as they became adults and entered the workforce. In my case this was the 40’s and 50’s. I was groomed to function well in a 1950’s office setting and wow, I’ve found it!

Although I’m officially a part of the HR Department, most of what I do is administer programs for the Acme, Corp. Foundation. Coming from the begging position, it’s a real pleasure to be on the giving end for a change. I’m an hourly drone, yet those development directors and VP’s of fundraising have to be super polite to me ha ha! Retribution!

I work in a sea of cubicles and am strictly on the clock. I didn’t know I had it in me. In California (in the nonprofit scene at least), working hours were a vague sort of thing. Meetings were unfortunately the same way. Meetings on the West coast used to take up so much of my time, I cringe thinking about it! Everyone showed up somewhere around the meeting time (give or take 15 minutes) then there were the obligatory last cell phone calls, final trips to the restroom and the inevitable posturing and elbowing before the lowest person on the totem pole of meeting attendees had to make the fresh pot of coffee. (One time, I ended up low man on the totem pole. I delighted in handing our overpaid consultant her fresh cup of coffee saying “Here, don’t spill it”).

In my new position, meetings go off like clock-work. I was informed that associates meet every Monday, Wednesday and Friday at 8:45 a.m. “Oh no!” I thought, how am I supposed to get any work done…but much to my surprise, everyone marched into the conference room at 8:44 and marched out at 9:00. We also clock in no more than 7 minutes prior to our shift and clock out no later than 1 minute past our shift. I didn’t know this was even possible, prior to last week, now I’m surprised that I like it as much as I do.

Most of all I LOVE leaving it all behind at precisely 5:00 pm.! I go home and think entire of my own stuff. I drive into work singing along to the local rock station (as opposed to grinding my teeth and living out each possible thing that could go wrong that day).

Our headquarters and distribution center look like they were built in the 50’s (although they were really built in the early 90’s). Even the corporate logo has this old fashioned (Acme Corp. goes WAY back) sensibility.

I don't actually have to use a typewriter like the one in the picture above. We use PC's...although some of the database software is shall we say vintage.

What’s Your Favorite Drinking Holiday?

Happy Kentucky Derby Day Everyone!

Gotta’ say this is one of my favorites’s of the year…right up there with St. Patrick’s Day.

On Kentucky Derby Day, BF makes his favorite recipe for mint julep. They’re VERY sweet and VERY strong.

I hand picked the mint this morning in my Mom’s back yard! This year, as an added bonus, our neighbor came over and had a julep with us! I always wear my big hat.

I can’t believe Yahoo Cooking had a video online for making simple syrup.. duhh?? You boil sugar and water together. How difficult is that?!?

Simplicity

I’ve completed my first week of work at "Acme, Corp." and am struck by so many different things.

Sights, sounds, emotions, etc…I’m on sensory overload. I’m in culture shock.

nn

The strangest thing is…in a way, this is how I always imagined it would be!

Vitamin D

Wow! You’ve got to check out the latest study on Vitamin D and cancer prevention – “twice the impact on cancer attributed to smoking”!

I am so there.

Tasty

Antipasto salad with smoked buffalo mozzarella, spinach, roast peppers, artichoke heart, and prosciutto with white truffle oil and Roast Duck Tacos with Red Cabbage Remoulade Sauce, and of course Cantillion Raspberry Lambic.

Tonight BF and I celebrated all the good things that are happening.

I’m on a food high.

I hope I’m able to roll my over-filled belly out of bed tomorrow morning for my first full day at work.

Perhaps a Tagmet?

The Urine Test

As part of the application process for my new job, I was required to go for a pre-employment drug screening. It’s kind of intrusive and in principle, I disapprove, but when it comes down to it, I just go ahead and do it with out voicing complaint.

So, yesterday, after the offer was made, I figured I would just go directly over to the occupational medicine clinic and get it over with. I kind of had to pee and since it was so close, what the heck. No appointment necessary! How convenient.

Well, for starters, I (of course) had to wait about 45 minutes before being called, so by the time my name was called, my bladder was about to burst.

Then, there was the ambiance in the waiting room. My, my, what an assortment of characters! I found myself sitting amongst a group of truckers and laborers who were there for various reasons. Imagine 6 or so, Beavis and Butthead clones in their 30’s.

Worker 1: Man, I think I got a fuckin’ hernia, or somethin’. It feels like one-na my nuts exploded.

Worker 2: He,he,he. When I hadda’ hernia, it felt like I had three nuts. He,he,he.

Workers 1 – 6: He, he, he, he.

Worker 3: Piss tests are stupid, man.

Workers 1 – 6: He, he, he, he.

Etc.

I considered changing seats, but looked about the room at my alternatives. There was a middle-aged, overweight salesman-looking type, who’s collar was too tight and was red in the face and kind of breathing a little too heavily. I didn’t want to sit too close to that one. I might have to give him CPR. No thanks!

Then there was a 20-something woman, her toddler and her friend, who obviously failed a previous drug screening and was angry about having to do it again. This was all abundantly clear from her confrontation with the receptionist upon her arrival. No, I thought. I was better off with the hernia gang and chose to stay put. I’m not a precious little Bay Area snow flake who’s never heard the F*-word before.

Then, my name was called. Things went from bad to worse instantly. Some surly, nurse’s assistant handed me the cup and told me to fill it to the designated line and pointed to the room. The room was filthy! The dirty toilet seat was up and there was mud and urine all over the floor. Aaagh! I ended up peeing in my pumps, on my skirt and on the floor, and quite frankly I don’t give a damn! I wasn’t getting one inch closer to that toilet. I handed the woman the dripping container and went home and cleaned up thoroughly.

My point is NOT to make fun of blue collar East Coasters, but simply to air my grievances about this particular occupational medicine facility.

Disgusting.

What Makes You Sick

I just had to post this in response to Leila's Where do Germs Go? post.

I'm SOMEBODY now!

I have my own cubicle! Yes indeed I do! And it’s a beautiful cubicle at that. I got a job! It’s an administrative/clerical position with only a very, distant connection to what I used to do…but it’s a real, honest-to-goodness, full-time job with a well-know retail outfit (where I can no longer afford to shop, BTW).

Hourly pay and benefits (health after 60 days) sound so good right now, I can hardly begin to express. I’ve been hemorrhaging $$ for the last 6 months! It will be nice to have a little bit coming in. Also, hopefully, it will get my mind off myself for part of the day at least and hopefully help get me out of my lethargic, unemployed stupor.

I’m actually kind of happy about the hourly pay thing. I get to come in at 8am and go home at 5pm! Otherwise, I’ll be paid…gulp…overtime! This was unheard of as a salaried worker in the nonprofit sector. You were EXPECTED to work all kind of crazy, ungodly hours and when came in an hour late in the morning because you at a meeting until 10pm the night before, everybody would give you the hairy eyeball.

I don’t know if this will be a forever thing for me. I just know that right now it seems like a really good fit. I might actually be able to continue blogging! Woo! Hoo! Dare to aspire!

We have two bottles of champagne in the cellar that we brought from CA. One of them is going to get opened tonight. The other is saved for the day BF finds full-time employment (consulting doesn’t count!).

Lust for Life

God Bless Iggy Pop! Stage diving at 60!

Defying the odds and risk factors. Just think risk factors and Iggy Pop. Imagine the possibilities. This is someone who is indeed “lucky to be alive.” Iggy’s certainly got a lust for life.

When I read this article in the morning, my first thought was “Oh, too bad I wasn’t back in the Bay Area. I could have seen Iggy Pop at the Warfield!”

Then after consideration, I realized, I would NEVER go see Iggy Pop at the Warfield!

This man has been known to SPIT on audience members.

I am way too much of a pussy to go see Iggy Pop. I admit I am just NOT that cool. Frankly, I was NEVER that cool. Oz Fest? No problem! I know how to stay out of the mosh pit…but NOT Iggy Pop! I can probably imagine many of the unwholesome things that have paid a visit to Iggy Pop’s mouth, and can definitively say that I wouldn’t want the guy spitting on me.

Stage diving at 60 is indeed inspirational, though!

I thought celebrating my 40th birthday in Vegas and seeing Blue Man Group was just the cat’s ass. I guess I am really an old fart.

Anyway…It blows me away that “Lust for Life” has become the anthem for family-friendly cruises.

Happy Birthday Iggy!

The Heck With Green Tea

Study finds Fruity Cocktails Count as Health Food.

Who would have ever guessed that adding rum, vodka, tequila and other spirits boosts the antioxidant nutrients in strawberries and blackberries.

A Good Evening

Oh what a beautiful day! It was up around 70 degrees F. today. I went around and picked up all the branches that were broken during last Sunday’s heavy, wet snowstorm. A lot of branches broke.

Finally, the bulbs are budding! It’s really fun this Spring, because I have no idea what was planted out there and each new green thing is a surprise. It looks like mostly pink and purple hyacinths, and chives. We have wonderful, fresh chives popping up all over the place.

This evening after dinner I went out and really hacked back on the dead wisteria that is covering an arbor that once held a grape vine. I got about 1/3 of it clipped back. This was really fun since the evening was so lovely. The sky was deep blue, blue, blue and the new moon and Venus were plainly in view as I cut. I could hear the sound of a train off in the distance and the air smelled fecund. It’s moments like that, that make my insides go all warm and squishy and make it seem all worth it.

Specially For Women

A very wise friend pointed out to me years ago, that products marketed “Specially For Women,” generally suck (with the exception of products intended only for women, i.e.: tampons).

When you see the words “specially for women,” you might as well just substitute “lower quality, comes in pink.”

I am reminded of this today, after drinking a can of Sin-A-Man, Rip It Chic Energy Fuel. Yes, I do make impulse purchases on occasion. I think what hit my consumer nerve in this case, was the special foil cover designed to prevent dust, germs and bacteria from contacting the can's lid. I was fooled. This stuff tastes like ass and I swear it’s putting me to sleep.

I can barely keep my eyes open. Will I succumb to the power of the nap?

Richard McBeef

I’m very horrified and embarrassed to admit that I’m fascinated by the unfolding drama about the Virginia Tech Massacre. As a public service to anyone else with morbid curiosity:

The Smoking Gun already has one of Cho Seung-Hui’s plays posted. Its entitled “Richard McBeef.” It reads like the sort of thing high school students write to shock, disgust and amuse one another. In hindsight, it seems like a telltale sign of the impending violence to come, but on it’s own, doesn’t seem so horrifying.

Back when I was in high school, we read Edward Albee for the first time during our junior year. My nerd friends and I were so impressed we all began enthusiastically writing our own absurd plays. A pal of mine wrote one and dedicated to me (and the bus we rode to school on). I know I still have it around here somewhere. It read like Edward Albee meets “Psycho” meets “Pink Flamingos.” My pal is now a well-respected 43 year-old who teaches philosophy at a university in New England. Go figure.

I’m just glad I’m not the one who has to sort it out and make policy.

With Sympathy

My heart goes out to the families of those who were killed today at Virginia Tech.

Mc Nugget Hell

Just shoot me! I’m old enough to know better, but last night around midnight, I ate 20 Chicken McNuggets with some unknown quantity of ranch dressing. My excuse? I was toasted on white wine and was very hungry. I am shocked, disgusted and more than a little amazed by my own gluttony.

I was apparently burping in my sleep last night, because at some point, BF brought in a bucket. I wish I had the good sense to use it….but, N-OO. I woke up this morning at around 7:30, a whiff of McNugget still on my breath, suffering from one of the worst cases of heartburn I’ve had in a long time.

The interesting thing though, is that the epicenter of the pain was located in precisely the spot where I experience my burning mouth symptoms. My two new most likely (less fatal) diagnoses are acid reflux or burning mouth syndrome.

Mc Nuggets, BAD. Tagamet, GOOD.

Hunter S. Thompson Was Right!

...at least about the bats.



My recent experience with two new doctors has convinced me that there really is a stigma attached to being a hypochondriac. As someone with a “sincere” mental health or physical health concern, I’ve generally gotten more or less, fair treatment by the doctors I’ve seen. On the other hand, when I’ve disclosed that I am a hypochondriac, I’ve been dismissed and treated condescendingly. Yes, I mean this with regard to psychiatrists too!

Up until this last shrink, I was never comfortable enough to say, “I’m a hypochondriac.” I talked about my anxiety and obsessive/compulsive disorder and even occasional panic, but never, EVER used the “H” word. I figured that if they were worth the weight of their medical license, the psychiatrists would figure it out for themselves.

Hunter S. Thompson put it beautifully in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, “No point mentioning those bats, I thought. The poor bastard will see them soon enough.” Hunter S. Thompson was right about the bats and I think I’m equally right about not mentioning the “H” word.

Yesterday, before I saw my doctor, I practiced telling her about my symptoms and my past history, biopsy and all, without making it sound like I was a hypochondriac. “Yes, the burning in my mouth and sensation that something is there, has been going on for at least two years now. My last doctor told me to take this ($72) Nasarel, but it’s not doing anything. What do you recommend.” I waited until my hands stopped shaking enough that I could actually drive myself to the appointment and delivered my speech. Fine. I feel like I was given a fair shake. In the past, I have made the mistake of mentioning to otolargyngologists that I was perhaps a little too concerned with the sensations. MISTAKE! After that they were worse than useless.

I haven’t made my mind up yet, but if I do end up switching psychiatrists, I’m going back to NOT mentioning hypochondria. This last one sort of curled her lip back when I said the word and questioned me a little too enthusiastically about why I had difficulty being reassured after a doctors visit.

I should have asked “Are you a ‘real’ psychatrist?”

The Other White Meat

Since Mom’s bout with the stomach flu (I still need to report this on http://whoissick.org), my mission has been to cook rich, tasty, not overly spicy, high-calorie things to encourage her to eat. I think tonight’s creation was a success. I haven’t even TRIED to figure out the nutritional information on this yet. Suffice to say, it’s PLENTY nutritious.

CROCK POT PORK CHOPS

4 pork chops (center cut)
¼ cup olive oil
Salt
Pepper
Creole Seasoning
¼ cup white wine
1 box pork Stove Top stuffing
1 can garlic mushroom soup
1 can cream of mushroom soup
1 medium onion, coarsely chopped
6 large mushrooms sliced (Crimini or Portabella)

Prepare stuffing as directed on box.

Mix the 2 cans of soup together with 1 can of water. This is best done in a saucepan over low heat in order to get the condensed soup to melt and blend properly (get the lumps out).

Season pork chops to taste with salt, pepper and Creole seasoning. (I add a little Creole seasoning, too). Brown pork chops in olive oil.

Deglaze pan with ¼ cup white wine add back any oil that dripped from pork chops. Add chopped onion and mushrooms. Cook until onions begin to caramelize.

Pour some soup mixture in the bottom of your crock-pot. Place a few spoonfuls of stuffing on top of soup mixture. Then place 2 pork chops on top of stuffing. Add some onions and then pour some soup mixture over the pork chops. Continue, until all ingredients are used.

Turn crock-pot on low and cook 5 to 6 hours.
Serve with vegetables. Steamed, French-cut green beans went well.

I'm OK, You're OK?

Today I had my appointment with my new Otolaryngologist.

I just wanted to let everyone know that I got a clean bill of health. I like this doctor a lot. She’s a straight shooter and gave me a thorough examination.

I’ll no doubt have more to say later, but tonight I’m just feeling exhausted from the emotional roller-coaster ride of visiting a new doctor for the first time about this ongoing “problem.”

I’m going to grab another glass of wine and stare into space a while before I turn in.

Haha! Leila, you once asked if the schnauzer liked beer. I don’t know about beer, but he seems to really appreciate a nice, German white. (just had a little spill here in the kitchen…no need to wipe up.)

Happy Easter!

Join Sanitation Crusade!

Donate Now

America's advocate for the availability of clean, safe, well-designed public restrooms needs your help.

AMERICAN RESTROOM ASSOCIATION

Donations are tax-exempt and what a great mission. I support clean, safe, well-designed public restrooms!

“The 2007 World Toilet Summit” in India, sounds fascinating. I would attend this conference. “Documenting the problems faced by people who hesitate to travel or who avoid activities that put them out of range of proper toilet facilities” is an important topic - perhaps even more meaningful to me than many of the sessions my professional association's annual conference holds.

The trip also includes a visit to the Sulabh International Museum of Toilets and the Taj Mahal. Wow!

In the words of Dr. Bindeshwar Pathak, founder of Sulabh International Social Service Organization “Join sanitation crusade.”

$72 Nose Spray

As of April 1st, I began recording all my daily expenses in an Excel spreadsheet.
I felt that I needed to do this to really see where I was wasting money.
Even though I haven't had an income since September, I'm still not very good at denying myself many of the luxuries that seemed like nothing in California.

This idea occurred to me, week before last, when I managed to say "NO" to a pair of $79 red, Ann Taylor shoes. A mere six months ago, I would have asked "Do they also come in black?"

Three days of this process passed surprise-free.

Today, however, I paid a visit to the pharmacy and got the shock of my life!

The allergy, nose spray that I was prescribed and had been getting with my $5 Kaiser co-payment, REALLY costs $72.99 a bottle!

It dawned on me (embarrassingly not for the first time) that this nose spray doesn't even do any good. It's a useless nose spray that I've just been taking out of habit. This is the LAST bottle of Nasarel for me, baby! I can't believe I paid the $70! I'm an idiot...

but not as big an idiot as Keith Richards.

Today's news story had me literally, laughing out loud. Imagine how OUT OF CONTROL you've got to be, in order to have your publicist issue an official statement DENYING that you snorted your father's ashes.

You just can't make this stuff up!

Peeper Problems

or..."Please Not the Bowels Redeux"

Leila V’s post about twitches in the eye reminded me of a terrible hypochondria episode that immediately, preceded my separation from my ex-husband.

One fine, spring morning, about 10 years ago, I woke up with a urinary tract infection. I knew (even then) that this was a common problem. I visited the doctor and got the necessary medication.

Unfortunately I couldn’t stop dwelling the symptoms and sensations down there. Well, after the infection seemed to have cleared up, I continued to experience twitching (sometimes painful) in my urethra.

VD! I was CERTAIN I had contracted VD somewhere, somehow…from using a public toilet perhaps.

After the obligatory, slew of tests (some rather unpleasant) and weeks of anxiety, I was informed that I was experiencing stress related muscle spasms in the urethra.

This is the kind of thing that you just don’t read about on the Internet. Even now, a quick search brings up everything else under the sun.

The distressing symptoms disappeared as mysteriously as they appeared.

I was cured.

Sometimes

I worry about asteroids.

Hope Springs Eternal

It’s amazing how you can feel like crap one day and not the next!

Making confession after 31 years (while quite frightening) wasn’t NEARLY as unpleasant as visiting the new shrink yesterday!

I did it! I took my 4-page list tonight and after attending the Stations of the Cross, I made my confession and have been welcomed back to the Catholic Church. It feels good. I’m happy that I’ll receive communion this Palm Sunday.

The slight surprise was that even though my ex-husband and I were married in a civil ceremony, I still have to get the marriage annulled. I have an appointment next month to do the paper work…a month to search this place for my marriage certificate and divorce decree. I better start looking first thing tomorrow. We have rooms upstairs with boxes of books and papers that haven’t been unpacked yet. Good luck!

The job interview this morning seemed to go fairly well. This was only a first round interview though. Now, I wait and see if I’m invited back for round two. When my interviewer expressed concern that I was somewhat over qualified for the position, I smiled unabashedly and answered, “Then just imagine how I could hit the ground running for you.” Aagh! I hate job interviews.

The great news though, is that after my interview, I came home and checked my email. I received a response from another agency – an agency with a position much better suited to me and (to be perfectly honest) an agency I have greater respect for. I was warned that they’re in the process of a reorganization, and things will not happen over night….but one of the VP’s would like to set up a preliminary meeting. Yeah!

Thank you Leila and Trish for the good wishes.

I’ve Been SLIMED!

Today I went to my first appointment with my new psychiatrist here in Pennsylvania and I feel AWFUL! I don’t like or trust her at all. It was really (for lack of a better word) a yucky experience. Now I feel depressed and confused and slimed. I’m not sure if I’m being a precious, little snowflake of a consumer or if I really have cause to look elsewhere.

From the moment I entered the parking lot, I was turned off, by the cheesy vanity pate on what was obviously her shiny, new car.

Then she wanted to change all my medication. “No one prescribes Prozac or Valium these days.” She told me. (This is an out and out lie.) Maybe SHE has reason for prescribing other medications. If that’s the case, I would have appreciated hearing it straight. I’m open to discussion. I am just NOT going to STOP taking Prozac TODAY after 9+ years when I have this many symptoms going on and have an Otolaryngology appointment in two weeks. I am stressed out right now!

Regarding the Valium, I don’t think she understood that it’s NOT an open prescription that I’m looking for. I got my prescription (50 pills) filled before I left California. This is MORE than a year’s worth for me. What I would like in is the assurance that if I am ever in dire, vomiting, crying, shaking, hyperventilating CRISIS, my doctor will have the good sense to sedate me! Is that too much to ask? Oh hell! If that happened, I suppose I would just head back to ER.

She also wants me to see her FREQUENTLY (Way more frequently that any of my previous doctor ever saw me…even when I had the veritable, insurance, “Gold Card”). I explained to her that I didn’t have job and was paying out of pocket. She actually argued with me about this, saying “Your COBRA” will cover this, don’t worry.” I had to explain TWICE that I am not on COBRA and that because I am paying for entirely new coverage, pre-existing conditions will NOT be covered for the first year. She stopped arguing, but I don’t think she believed me about that.

Finally (this takes the cake)! After spending a ½ hour talking to her and describing my fear of disease and contagion, the woman INSISTED on my HUGGING HER in the crowded waiting room after our visit. That was inappropriate in my book!!! Inappropriate and disgusting. I am fortunately not in one of my super contagion-focused periods right now (ie: I didn’t need to shower when I got home) but am a bit grossed-out and think that was really insensitive for a psychiatrist.

Now I don’t know if I should try to find someone else, or just suck it up and go back to her next moth and allow her to experiment with me. When I told BF about the visit today, he asked would I go back to a hairdresser who treated me that way. The answer of course if “NO.’

BF taught me this about dentists and he was right. Dentists are aggressive salespeople. They will try to up-sell you on everything in the book and use their authority to shame, guilt and scare you into spending more than you intended to. The correct response with dentists is “Will my insurance cover this?”

Dentist: “Would you like the magic mouth wash?”
Barbora: “What is it for?”
Dentist: “It’s only $125”
Barbora: “What’s it for?”
Dentist: “uhh- it prevents plaque and cavities, will help you loose weight and improve your sex appeal!”
Barbora: “Will my insurance cover it?”
Dentist: “No”
End of conversation.

I’m still confused by today though.
Psychiatrists are not hairdressers or dentists.
I am the crazy one.
I am the potential addict.
I could be morally flawed.

The worst part is tonight I’m feeling so messed up…and I have an interview tomorrow morning (for a crap job, but in my field) and confession tomorrow night.

Who ever is reading, P-L-E-A-S-E send some good vibes my way.