Health – The Owl Underground

What a Revolting Development This Is

Way back in the late Ordovician, before TV was even in color (!) there was a show on TV called “The Life of Riley” that starred William Bendix. It was a situation comedy, and just after they’d gotten into the situation, Bendix would break the fourth wall, look straight into the camera and say his catch phrase, “What a revolting development this is.”

Well, in this situation comedy that is my life at the moment, the situation is this: That slight numbness I’d gotten in the tips of a couple of fingers which I thought was from chemotherapy has continued to get worse. Now instead of just being on the tip of my middle fingers and along the left index finger, its on the tips of index, middle and ring fingers of both hands, and the pads of both thumbs. It’s not exactly numbness. It’s a little like pins and needles, and it amplifies sharp sensations way out of proportion. Stuff that should just register as slightly pointed is painfully sharp.

Here’s the deal: Mom has restless leg syndrome/peripheral neuropathy in her feet. Some of the causes of it are heritable. If I’ve inherited what she’s got, I’d rather have it in my feet than my hands (touch typing, knitting, and the zillion other things I do dexterously manually). But — oh, that “but” — there are other possible causes: Chemotherapy, carpal tunnel syndrome, and C2 radiculopathy. My second cervical vertebra (C1 has your head on top of it, C2 has C1 on top of it) is slightly cattywompus due to an old shoulder/neck injury from trying to lift a 40 lb bottle of water and upend it onto the water dispenser. I’m hoping that it’s mostly C2 radiculopathy and the chiropractor can improve it. I’m a side sleeper, too, which doesn’t help. Stay tuned.

When I went to my appointment at the VA, I did get three or four x-ray views of my tootsies. But then after I talked to my PCP, she sent me back for four or five views of my neck, including one with my mouth open, aimed straight into my mouth. (Yeah.) So bright and early this AM, the lady at the chiropractor calls me to schedule a chiropractic appointment for my neck. (My mom’s mom, a second generation Texan who spoke German better than she spoke English, called them “punch doctors”) I’ve never been to one, so I have that (and a passel of paperwork. Sigh!) to look forward to this Friday.

Today was my day for running errands hither and yon all over town. I yonned way the heck out to 122nd street and discovered I could have done what I needed to do there on line. (Well, zut, alors.) Then I hithered my way back by the bank to deposit a check, by Market Street on 50th and Indiana Avenue to make a donation to the Goodwill truck that they let park in their parking lot, by Red Lobster to treat myself to lunch and kill time until the framing studio opened at 1 pm, by the framers to get some pictures framed, and then made a Wal-Mart run.

The way out of Wal-Mart that puts this little piggy in the best field position to go north on Quaker Avenue and wee-wee-wee all the way home goes right by the Whataburger, so naturally I drove through the drive through and got a large Dr. Pepper, which I have been sucking down in large gulps ever since. Hithering and yonning is thirsty work, especially since somebody left the heat on outside today . . . .

In the parking lot at Wal-Mart, I got a shower scattered on me as I was loading up the trunk, and when I got back home and was unloading, I got another, longer shower scattered on me to the point that I waited it out under the carport where I park. (Is it technically still a CARport if it’s long enough to park eight cars under it?)

It’s sprinkling, flashing and grumbling as I type. The current humidity is 46%, so unless some serious rain happens, it’s pretty much evaporating as soon as it hits pavement.

But we had a nice little thunderstorm at about 4 o’clock this morning and got a good little rain out of it. This is how I like my thunderstorms, them outside and me inside. We’re having a jolly one now. Serious rain is happening. We’ll take the rain, but pass on the hail, please.

Yesterday was my birthday. (Let’s just say I’m old enough to know better but still young enough to seriously consider doing it again.) So today I took myself out to eat at Red Lobster and had crab legs and fried shrimp. I love me some crab legs. I brought home half my shrimp for later, and three of their rolls. I had a sneeze’s worth of French Fries. (I’m allergic to potatoes, but I eat them anyway because I love them. They’re worth a sneeze or two.)

This is what I took to the framer today. She’s “Spider Grandmother” revered by the Hopi as Kokyangwuti and by the Navajo as Na’ashjé’íí Asdzáá. The painting is by Susan Seddon Boulet. I used to get calendars featuring her work (this is one I kept for this picture). She was famous for her “Goddess” paintings, drawing from myths and legends of cultures all over the world to celebrate the feminine.

The spider is associated with weaving/fiber arts in many cultures. (See: Arachne, the Greek version, a weaver who was turned into a spider as a punishment for hubris. The Greek gods were always coming down hard on people who got too uppity, especially women.) Native Americans see Spider Grandmother as a wise and benign leader who helps and protects the people. She taught the people how to spin wool and weave blankets to help them get through the cold winters. Of course, the role of women in a society differs from culture to culture. The Greeks were a heavily patriarchal society and there’s a good deal of misogyny inherent in their mythos. The Navajo, on the other hand, are inherently matriarchal and matrilineal, but with strong respect for the elders of both sexes.

This pair of beautiful unicorns are two others of Boulet’s works that I had framed year before last by the same framer I’m having frame this one. This new picture will be my birthday gift from my mom.

I got a DVD of “Gate of Hell” which is the first Japanese film made in color (Technicolor). It’s a tale of unignited love and obsession set in 12th century Japan. The costumes are GORGEOUS. I think I’ll watch it tonight. Either that one or “3000 Years of Longing” with Tilda Swinton. Maybe both.

All Done

All eight blooms are open now. Ridiculous how chuffed I am about a plant blooming.

I am cautiously hopeful about the beauty saloon operator’s orchid. When I got groceries today, I got a pretty little blooming plant (kalanchoe?) in a teapot and took it over to her today because I have taken her orchid “into protective custody.”

I have repotted it properly (she thought all the roots had to be covered up!) and have gotten an orchid fertilizer spike on board. It now has a means to get all the water it wants and has a viable root (possibly three) which appears to be taking on water. It’s leaves have firmed up, which is a good indication that it is now better “hydrated” than it was.

I have recently learned about a birdsong app for smart phones. If you hear birdsong, you can start the app, which listens to the birdsong through the phone mike and identifies the specie(s) of bird(s) doing the singing. (It uses GPS to plot where you are and determine what birds might be found based on your location.) Back in the old days, you’d join a group of birders to go out bird watching together and a more experienced birder would take you under their wing, and it would be, “Hear that? That’s a Yellow-headed Whatchamacallit.” Then you’d scan the tree canopy with your binoculars to see if you could spot one. You’d finally spot a bird and there would be breathlessly whispered consultations over the bird book (Roger Tory Peterson, of course) and identification by consensus. It was all about being out in nature, the camaraderie of being with people who enjoyed the same activity you did, the challenge of the hunt, the thrill of the chase, the joy of success. Now they have an app for that. Sigh.

We had a violent crashy bangy T-storm just now, and it rained hard in big splatty drops against the window for about 10 minutes. (And this POS stupid internet that we have here is down. Rebooted the modem to no avail.) I like it when it rains at night. Gives it a chance to soak in and do some good. It evaporates too quickly when it rains in the daytime.

I had to be up at oh, God thirty this morning to make an 8 o’clock lab appointment at the VA and walked all over the world to get there. Then I went to the grocery store and walked all over the world. On my way back, I drove up under the portico and stopped by the lobby to pick up some stuff I ordered from Amazon from the receptionist before I went to my appointed parking space. I remembered to put my fold-up cart into the trunk, so I unloaded the car into it and schlepped the groceries upstairs (via the freight elevator). Then I carried a vase of roses and a teapot full of blooming plant down the elevator to first floor, up one hallway and down the other, up the elevator to third floor and gave the roses to mom for Mother’s day, and the (tea)potted plant to the beauty operator, hiked back and got the mail, (and took the package notification things for the packages I’d already gotten all the way up the hall to the lobby and back) and took my lunch back up to the apartment. By then I was exhausted and my knee was very unhappy with me. I put lunch in the fridge and crashed til 7 o’clock and had my lunch for supper.

Edit: The above was written on Wednesday evening. The internet went down Wednesday night and stayed down. I had to copy the blog post to a Word document and save it because not all of it autosaved before the internet went down. It’s still down. I languished all day Thursday, unable to finish my blog post, unable to listen to music on internet radio, unable to watch YouTube, unable to play games on my Kindle Fire, unable to read the next book in the series I’m reading because I hadn’t download it to my Kindle before the internet cratered. Then, early this morning, I had a huge forehead-smacker of a DUH! moment. Darling, your phone is hotspot enabled. (Yes, I call myself ‘darling’ when I’m taking myself to task. Bite me. )

I had purchased that option on my cell phone plan for when I travel, to be able to get Google maps, and internet radio access whenever and wherever I want it, as well as being able to use my Kindle in places where I don’t trust the WiFi, or where there isn’t any. My Kindle was already set up to connect to the internet through my phone’s hotspot. In a matter of minutes, I had the next book and the rest of the books in the series (Diana Gabaldon’s Lord John Grey books) downloaded to my Kindle because the internet for all three buildings is still down.

So, this morning, I fixed myself breakfast, got my phone, and proceeded to sign onto the internet on both computers via my phone’s hot spot. I’ve been eating my curds and whey (AKA cottage cheese) (with mandarin oranges) and my brioche toast and finishing this blog post. Here directly, I’ll have my shower and wash my hair and get suited up for my appointment with my PCP at the VA at 1330 hrs. I may go early to see if I can get my foot x-rayed so I can get a podiatry consult for orthotics which may help my knee by more properly aligning my foot. Or that’s the thinking anyway. Onward and upward.

Six!

Friday week ago, the trusty Greyolla had to be jump started. I managed to start it Monday to go to an appointment with my orthopod (pausing on the way home to catch and subdue an Arby’s Gyro and drag it back to my lair). I barely got it started Wednesday, took a tootle around town, and had a (Big) Mac attack on the way back. I’m allergic to potatoes, but I eat them with impunity (and a touch of salt). Between Monday’s curly fries, Wednesday’s French fries and the twice baked potato I had Thursday, I’ve sneezed more than once. I’m allergic to corn, too. Amazing how much I’m not sneezing since I changed from margarine to actual butter.

Monday, I saw my orthopod and we discussed my knee. The bone scan shows a suspicious area in the same place as the CT did — the medial (inside) aspect of the joint. There may be some loosening of the cement that anchors the knee prosthesis to the bone. However, before I’d had that knee replaced, I’d had pain in that same place. A podiatric consultation happened and orthotics were made for my feet. That helped some. I’d like to try that again, and see if a pair of orthotics (custom made arch supports) helps any. If not, the alternative is revision surgery to replace this prosthesis with another one, which is major surgery. I want to try conservative measures first and delay another surgery at least until taking care of mom is no longer an issue.

Because I need a car I can depend on, I called Gene Messer Toyota Wednesday for an appointment in the Service Department. I managed to get the old (she’ll be 9 in November!) girl started yet one more time this morning and headed off to the dealership. Based on her symptoms, the differential diagnoses were: The battery, the alternator or the starter motor. I lucked out (I think). It was the battery. I got a new battery and two Uber rides out of the deal. I wouldn’t say the repair bill was astronomical, but it was higher than giraffes’ ears . . . anyway, Mme Greyola marche encore, which is the important take-away here. Laissez la voiture rouler.

I rehomed the elephant ear Wednesday as well. There’s a lot more room for everybody now. I just need to repot the Christmas cactus. I’ve had the pot for months. I also have the potting soil. However, I seem to have misplaced my roundtuit. . . .

I’m on the last Foreigner book until the new one comes out in September. I have the new Sebastian St. Cyr book in my little hot hands. I ought to start a reread of the 18 books in that series. Might not though. We’ll see. Might read C. J. Cherryh‘s Chanur books (5) instead. (I have a soft spot for the Knnn.)

Still no knitting news. I haven’t figured out how to read and knit at the same time, and after 27 years of things going in one ear and staying in my brain only long enough to hang a left and go out my fingers, audiobooks are not the solution to that dilemma. I’ve got a new shawl pattern “in the oven” but it’s not done cooking yet.

I’ve decided that I’m going to call in a pizza strike this afternoon if it harelips the governor. I’ve gone a year and a half with nary a slice, which is cruel and unusual punishment in my book. I already have an account on the Domino’s website . . .

And The Blooms Just Keep On Coming

Four blooms now, fully open and gorgeous, and five, six and seven proceeding as planned. It’s ridiculous how chuffed I am about it. The peace lily is still going nuts, blooming front, back and center. Not as major a chuff as the orchid, though. I need to repot the Christmas cactus and I already have the pot.

Spring is well and truly sprung. The tree outside my window is greening up hand over fist. The wisteria growing over the pergola at the outdoor seating area on the other side of my wing has burst into leaf. One hopes that flowers will be forthcoming soon. You’ll note the picture on the left is of a plant (Syngonium phodophyllum) I’ve been wanting to have for ages.

I’m trying to confine the plants to one pair of windows because the other pair in the room is adjacent to the TV and I’d always be having to raise and lower the blinds in order to watch something on TV (most of which is streaming and DVDs. Cable services are crap anymore.). I’m going to have to rehome the “elephant ear” plant because it’s taking over the world. Mom has no room for it. She already has a poinsettia left over from Christmas, another orchid, a kalanchoe, an Easter lily, and a plant of unknown identity I gave her to make room for the elephant ear.

You see the problem. There’s two more plants tucked behind the others, the arrowhead plant, which is behind the orchid, and the Christmas cactus (which needs to be repotted) behind the big elephant ear which is hogging the middle. I may inherit (or buy) another orchid, and there’s simply no more room. I may see about talking to the grounds keepers about the Stone Pine. It can be planted outside if a protected place can be found for a tree that small. First world problem, though.

I had quite an exciting Friday. I had an appointment for a bone scan (with isotopes!) at the Covenant Hospital radiology department at 12:30, and I went down plenty early to leave me time to park in the parking building and hike the skybridge to where I needed to be. Got in the car. Turned the key. Nothing happened.

Fortunately, our security people have one of those little hand-carry booster battery things and got me going. I got to my appointment, got’er done, went back to my car in the parking garage, turned the car key, and nothing. There’s a Battery Joe’s right nearby so I called them, and this very nice young man came with his very nice little hand-carry booster thing and got the car started. Again. Of course, the problem was that I hadn’t driven far enough to recharge the battery after the first boost, so I took the scenic route home — a half orbit of the Loop to the other side of town, back up Indiana Avenue, and eventually to my friendly, neighborhood Market Street grocery store. Where I found the arrowhead plant. Among four bags of other things. And they had rosemary and olive oil specialty bread again! So, a happy ending to a rather fraught day. I gotta get me one of those little hand-carry battery booster dohickies. (You plug them into a wall outlet to charge them.)

I had the bone scan to see if osteoporosis is the problem with my left knee (my body’s current problem child). I’m in the (long, drawn-out) process (dealing with the VA) of setting up rehab through services here at Carillon so mom and I will both be in rehab. Again. (At left is a new part of Covenant Hospital (Hope Tower) being build in place of the old part they knocked down. )

I’m going to try to weasel in some exercises for my upper back and shoulders to head off my inherited tendency to age-related kyphoscoliosis.

I’m trying to get rehab for mom as often as Medicare will allow because she gets upper as well as lower body exercise in a safe and controlled setting, gets to interact one on one with the therapists (mom is a people person), and the trained rehab people can keep an eye on her various back issues (kyphoscoliosis, sciatica). She also gets cognitive therapy mostly for the sake of having one more person to interact with on a regular basis. A fair percentage of the people on her floor are “gaga” as she puts it (#4), and it’s hard to have meaningful interpersonal interactions with people who have misplaced a significant number of their marbles.

While I was out gazooting about Friday, I got stopped at the stoplight that enabled me to snap a quick picture of the smiley-face bush, whom I haven’t seen in quite a while, and its latest costume. Not sure what it’s supposed to represent, though. Perhaps a Frenchman for Valentine’s day? Je ne sais quoi.

Alas, there is no knitting news because I’ve mostly had my nose in a book. I’m on book #17 of the Foreigner series with four books left on the shelf and another one coming in September. There has to be another one after this, because the new one will be the 22nd book in the series and 22 is a very infelicitous number. Just saying. I probably will then embark on a reread of the 17 books in the Sebastian St. Cyr series (Regency murder mysteries!) because book #18 drops this month. (Spoiler Warning: Hero is pregnant again!)

And Then There Were TWO!

It’s ridiculous how chuffed I am about this plant blooming. Like getting a “You are worthy” from the universe at large.

Took me three weeks but I finally got the VA consult to see the doc who did the total knee replacement. I should have gotten a copy of the CT and plain film x-rays that the VA did and taken them with me, but just didn’t have the inertia (Newton’s second law). I got in to see the doc’s PA Thursday (I would have had to wait until the 10th to see the doc). I’m supposed to get a bone density scan. I knocked back an awful lot of prednisone between January and October of last year, and that can have effects on bone density. Like I told the PA, I want to nip the cause of my knee pain in the bud, whatever it is, if at all possible. I already have three risk factors for osteoporosis (age, sex, race). I need to stay as mobile as I can as long as mom is alive, so I can take care of her.

I’m pretty sure I have plantar fasciitis in both heels, but much worse on the left, but PT fixes that and I know what those exercises are. I’m also sure it’s a function of not being on my feet very much because of my left knee. Bette Davis said, “Old age ain’t for sissies,” and she ain’t wrong. The entire bummer about the situation is that my body is about 50 years older than my mind . . .

My BFF is a graphic artist. Her brain is “eye-wired.” She is a very visual person — shapes, colors, textures. Her mode of relaxation is binge watching TV and movies, mostly for the CGI and the visuals. My brain is “ear-wired” and “word-wired.” I love all kinds of music from all over the genres and all over the world. Doesn’t matter. (for example) I like stuff that would drive my mom nuts in a New York minute — bagpipes, sitar, oud, gamelan. There are voices that just melt my knees (the late John Gielgud, Sam Elliott, Stephen Fry) I made a living listening to people talk and typing what they said (medical transcription). I put my head into a book the way my BFF puts her head into movies and TV. Which is why there hasn’t been any knitting news.

I’ve been rereading C. J. Cherryh’s Foreigner series of which there are currently 21 books. (There’s a new Foreigner book due out in September.) They follow the career of translator Bren Cameron as he mediates between humans and the alien Atevi. This is the third or fourth reread I’ve done of this series and I gain new insights into the books with each rereading. I know what’s going to happen and I still can’t put them down!

Cherryh’s forte is world building. Her societies, both human and alien, hang together beautifully. She not infrequently juxtaposes human society against an alien society to highlight insightfully different aspects of human society. One of her themes in the Foreigner books is how one’s cultural context and the expectations it sets up get in the way of cross cultural interactions (both between different human cultures, and human and alien cultures). Two other series of hers that do this are the Chanur series (five books) and the Faded Sun trilogy. (If you are a “cat person,” you should read the Chanur books!)

After I get done with Foreigner, I plan to start on a reread of the Sebastian St. Cyr series by C. S. Harris (17 books) which has a new book coming out this month. These are murder mysteries set in Regency England during the Napoleonic era. The author has a Ph.D. in 19th century European history, so she gets all the little details of that time and place right. Her books are set within and around the historical events of the time, and use that context to address sociological and economic issues that are still relevant today. Her characters are well rounded and very real. It’s a cross between Sherlock Holmes, Georgette Heyer, John Le Carre and time travel. You have French spies and English aristocrats (St. Cyr is a viscount), murder, family drama, forbidden love and unexpected romance against a broad historical backdrop. What’s not to like?

As with any long running series of books, do yourself two favors and start with the first one: Foreigner by C. J. Cherryh, and What Angels Fear by C. S. Harris.

Why, Yes, I Am a Toolbelt Diva

When I moved, I sold my reciprocating saw, and the drill I had since the early 2000’s (and, like a dummy, all the bits and sockets to it), as well as everything else except a “basic” tool kit: a hammer, a pair each of regular and needle nose pliers, a Phillips and a regular screwdriver, a large adjustable

wrench and a pair of channel locks. Which pair of channel locks came in handy this afternoon, when I couldn’t get the cap off my Peach Mango sports drink.

When I moved in here, I installed my own “handheld” shower head, hung all my pictures except the one. The maintenance guy did install my curtain rods and curtains (even though they’re not supposed to –I pulled the sensory overload card on them) because I just flat couldn’t reach them on the step stool, and did hang that one picture that needed a heavy anchor (which I didn’t have) that was on the wall above my bed. But other than that, I assemble furniture (I have quite the collection of assorted Allen wrenches) and am otherwise quite handy.

I took a break from reading yesterday evening and watched a French production of Mozart’s opera “Don Giovanni”. It was a rouser. There were several attempted rapes; the bass (Il Commendatore) got knifed in the first act (which is always fatal), and in the second act, one of the sopranos floozed about on state in her underwear and the tenor’s shirt, and the baritone (Don Giovanni) (who was a fox, BTW) stripped down to his tighty whities (it was, after all, a French production) and instead of getting dragged off to hell (spoilers!), Don Giovanni remained on stage in his skivvies for the remainder of the final scene. The minimal scenery that they had was well chewed, and a good time was had by the audience (including yrs trly). The only problem I had with it was that the libretto is in Italian and the closed captioning for this production was in French. This opera is notable for, among other things, a statue that comes to life and for Wolfie’s version of “I Wanna Hold Your Hand.”

Right after lunch today, I set off into deepest darkest Yuppieville to go get mom’s taxes ready to be filed electronically, and on my way back I stopped off at Wal-Mart to get “a few things” (read: six bags’ worth). Mom was running low on tissues and they have the Haribo Peaches candy I can’t seem to find anywhere else. They also had the small size of the almond milk creamer which I don’t use fast enough to get the big size of, which is all Market Street had. They also carry the brand of vitamin D3 tablets and calcium chewies that I prefer to the brands Market Street has. And of course, Whataburger is right next door (chicken fingers, FF’s and gravy!).

So I walked all over Wal-Mart, drove through Whataburger, went in to the package store (Harvey’s Bristol Cream!), walked all the way back up from the parking lot to the apartment to get the cart I should have brought down and put in my trunk when I left the apartment to go run errands, unloaded the groceries into the cart, schlepped them back to the apartment, put them all up, then hiked over to mom’s to give her the tissues and back. Then I had my chicken fingers, etc. When I got up just now to go refill my water bottle, my hips and knees were so stiff I could hardly move for a minute or two and my heel hurt so bad I could hardly bear weight on it. The earliest appointment I could get with my orthopod was with his PA and is on the 30th. If I wanted to see him, the earliest appointment was 10 April. (I’ve still got to go to the VA and get a copy of the plain films and the CT the VA did to take over to him.) I ain’t going anywhere tomorrow but to the refrigerator and back. I’m going to lie in the bed with my feet up and probably finish the remaining half of the book I’m currently reading and head into the next one in the series.

The Suspense Is Killing Me . . .

It’s gotten to the point where every morning, first thing, I paddle-foot in and check the bud. Any day now. I am excessively chuffed that the orchid is even budding, never mind actually teetering on the brink of blooming. One of the reasons for my chuffedness (chuffitude?) is that orchids are tropical plants, epiphytes, as it were, and the flatlands of Tx by no means have a tropical climate. The huge bugbear in the situation is humidity. Orchids like lots of it and we don’t haz it. We’re in between “it rained a little bit about two months ago,” and “it rained some last Fall.” Yesterday, we had 50% humidity, and I was delighted — a vast improvement over the 10% we had last week. It’s back down to 30% today. This is not polyester country — not unless you enjoy getting the bejezuz shocked out of you every time you touch something metal. (Talk about a renewable energy source!)

Last week, the caregivers over at Carillon House called me to tell me mom had taken a little spill. They said she’d just bathed, was going to get her hearing aids and must have lost her balance. Then Thursday at the care plan meeting, the nursing rep said she’d slid off the edge of the bed mattress when she sat down on it to put in her hearing aids. (easy enough to do with those thick memory foam mattresses. I’ve encountered the physics of that situation myself!) Anyway, the important thing is she wasn’t hurt. She landed on a fundamentally well-padded region with only a negligible injury to her composure. She doesn’t seem to be having any balance issues, which is a great relief. Nor vision issues either, thank goodness. She can follow her sports teams’ games on TV just fine, even if she can’t hear the announcer’s voices well enough to understand what they’re saying. (She’s not missing much, frankly!)

I’ve been having trouble with my knee again, the one that was replaced. The VA, of course, won’t take my word for it. I lucked out and was able to get a same-day appointment (on a Friday, no less) for a plain film x-ray and a CT of said knee instead of having to wait two weeks for one. But then we had to wait for the spirit to move somebody to read the durn things. Finally, after three weeks of pushing that rope at the VA, I’ve finally gotten a consult to go see the guy who replaced the knee. Got it late Friday, of course. I’ve got to call to get an appointment first thing Monday. In the interim between replacing my knee and now, the orthopod has moved, not way the heck to the other side of town like my dentist and mom’s CPA, but actually closer to where I live. He used to be in a building right beside Covenant hospital. Now he’s in cahoots with that sports medicine group that’s right across the street from JACC, the cancer center I go to. They’re the same bunch that diagnosed mom’s scoliosis and resultant sciatica. Right handy.

I got the results of the x-ray and CT scans today, and they were detecting faint anomalies in the same place where I have pain, the inside (right side) of my left knee. I only have pain when I put weight on the knee, for which mixed blessing I am thankful. There’s a constellation of factors, not the least of them being chemotherapy both in the body processes it disrupts and the inaction caused by the (lasting) fatigue it induces. There’s my risk factors for osteoporosis (age, sex, race), and my dietary intake of calcium. I should eat more dairy products. Lots of calcium in dairy products. Ice cream is a dairy product. I should eat more ice cream. Yep.

I’ve got to go Monday to sign the permission so mom’s tax forms can be e-filed. (She got a refund. It was four figures.) I live in the 4100 block of 17th Street. Mom’s CPA is 1n the 5000 block of 122nd street. I should probably pack a lunch.

Part of what makes this so funny is how true it is.

Now and again, my BFF sends me a smile. We all live in a yellow mugmarine . . . .

I’m six books into the 21+ book Foreigner series by C. J. Cherryh, now, with number 22 due out in October (22 being an extremely infelicitous number , there has to be at least one more . . .). I’ve read through the series at least 4 times. I know what happens and I still resent having to stop reading and go do something else. Yes, they’re that good. Cherryh is a master at world building. Her alien societies are thoroughly thought-through, and she puts you right in the middle of them. She casts interesting lights on human society by putting them in sharp contrast to her alien society. Some of the books are thumbscrews — the tension builds turn by turn; some books are edge of seat with nonstop action. There’s always room for contrast and comparison between the alien society and the human one. And with two different alien races, a society where assassination is legal, and lace and knee boots are de rigueur, how can you lose?

In the knitting news, see above.

Oh, If I Just Had A Chainsaw and a Good Lawyer . . .

I’d be chopping down those stupid Bradford pear trees all over town that just burst into bloom last week. Their pollen just rips my poor sinuses a new one, to coin a phrase. I am ambushed by sneezes like jump scares in a teen horror flick. I have what are called occular migraines — I get the flashy lights (scintillating scotomata) in both eyes, but no actual headache. They go away after about a half hour to three quarters of an hour, but in the meantime, I just have to either sit down or lie down until they’re over because it’s difficult to see. I may not have any all year, but I’ve already had three in as many weeks. Stupid Bradford pears. Pseudoephedrine + guaifenesin tablets are my friend.

And not to put too fine a point on the weather, Friday, the humidity was 10%. (!!!) It’s gone up to 29% now. At least the dirt’s not blowing today. That loud slurping noise you heard just now was me putting lotion on my poor hands. Again.

The other day it was gusty and blustery, and when I came in from running errands, my hair looked like Doc’s in Back To The Future. My hair’s about five inches long all over now and invariably I’ll get out of the car, and a gust of wind will whoosh me from behind. Like being shot in the back of the head with a leaf blower. All I can say is, “It was combed when I left the house.”

The Bradford pears are leafing as well as blooming, but nothing else is yet. That’s a wisteria vine on the pergola. Not a leaf in sight. Nor any hint of green on the locust tree outside my window. The squirrels are getting frisky, though.

Mom and I used to live in the 2BR apartment that goes with the 3 third floor windows behind the tree on the left, but when she went to the skilled nursing facility, I moved to a 1BR apartment on the same floor but in a different wing and no longer overlook the pergola. My apartment now is on the other side of the wing on the right side of the picture.

Mom’s orchid is ramping up to bloom. I’m almost ridiculously delighted about that. And my peace lily is going nuts. It has 7 blooms on it at the moment. I’ve been watering my little jungle with reverse osmosis water to avoid scale buildup in their soil. We have such hard water here.

I went to my oncologist yesterday afternoon and had lab work done. He said, “Your lab results are good, I’ll see you in August.” So, yay. Not so good is my left knee, the one I had replaced. That knee has been hurting when I walk and it pops in certain situations. I had a CT and plain x-rays of the knee done Friday at the VA in preparation for wrestling the red tape octopus to get a consult to go see the (non VA) doc who did the surgery. I swear, dealing with the VA is like pushing a rope.

There’s the old Cousin Minnie Pearl joke about going down to Grinder’s Switch to mail a letter at the post office, and when she came out, she said, “I looked up the road and here come Brother a’walkin’ down the road pulling this great big old logging chain behind him. And I said, ‘Brother, what are you doing walking around pulling that old logging chain?’ And Brother said, ‘D’yer ever try pushing one?'” Logging chains don’t push any better than ropes . . .

In the knitting news, I’ve got two more hats on the go. Another, larger, kitten hat on the left, and a kind of cloche affair on the right done in moss stitch. Moss stitch (which alternates knits and purls both horizontally and vertically) will separate the continental knitters from the throwers real fast. In order to purl, you have to bring the yarn to the front of the work first, then purl the stitch. Then you’ve got to bring your yarn to the back of the work to knit the next stitch. That’s two “throws” for every stitch. If you’re a thrower, moss stitch will wear you out.

Haven’t done much knitting lately, though. I haven’t mastered knitting and reading at the same time, yet. I finished the last book in the Familiar Spirits series by R. Cooper and the last book in Eliot Grayson’s Mismatched Mates series. And I reread one of the books in Megan Whalen Turner’s Thief series (6 books).

There’s a new C. S. Harris Sebastian St. Cyr book coming out in April and a new Foreigner book by C. J. Cherryh coming out in October. Oh, joy!

First World Problems

Recently, a friend’s blog had a post with a poem by Mary Oliver which ostensibly was about trees. The last lines of it read,

. . . and you too have come into the world to do this,
to go easy, to be filled with light, and to shine.”
                       “When I Am Among the Trees” ~ Mary Oliver

I have a thing for Mary Oliver. You will notice two quotes by her in the sidebar to this blog — if your device displays sidebars. They do not strew Pulitzer Prizes about like chicken feed. She won one for poetry, but her work is not effusive, precious, over wrought or “highfalutin.” It does not come out of a circus of academia with trained language that performs tricks and jumps through hoops of “meters” and “poem forms.” Her work is quiet, thoughtful, rooted in nature. It has a Frostian quality, a New Englander plain-spoken-ness that’s bald on the face of it and, at the same time, pithy with meaning. You can take a verse or phrase and chew on it all day. She did with words what Andrew Wyeth did with paint; her work has that same egg-tempera quality of clear, cold north light. (I’ve never been to New England, but I know that light. We have it here in the flatlands. By it you can see things clearly and in fine detail.) She writes poetry for people who don’t like poetry. Reading her work is like a long walk with an old friend. I recommend it.

I had a doctor’s appointment yesterday. My poor skin has been through two rounds of adverse reactions and side-effects of chemotherapy, it’s winter, the humidity has been under 50% for days and days of central heating, and Sunday night was so cold I ran the heating pad for about half an hour at the bottom of my bed to warm up my poor, frigid little tootsies. When I threw back the covers Monday morning, I noticed that the skin around the inside of my ankles and up my shins was having a fit of hysterics. I thought I knew what was going on and smeared some Sween on it, which didn’t help much. Just to be on the safe side, I called the office of that dermatologist my oncologist sent me to last year when we stopped the bendamustine because I nearly got Stevens-Johnson syndrome from it. I lucked out and instead of going to knitting group yesterday afternoon, I got in to see him. Eczema (AKA atopic dermatitis) was the verdict. I was already planning a Walmart run, and I had them send the Rx for triamcinolone cream there. Also he approved of my notion to get some cotton “athletic” high top socks to put on after I’ve slathered on the cream to act as a kind of dressing. I’ve had two applications of the cream, and I’m already seeing improvement.

Mom’s phone came yesterday afternoon, and I was going to fix it all up yesterday evening and take it to her today. Guess again. It has to charge for 24 hours before you can do stuff with it. It’s slightly heavier than mine. I lied. It’s not a Nokia. It’s an “Avid 589.” I’ve ordered an impact case and a screen protector. After while, I’ll get into it. Mostly, it needs to be activated, and her phone numbers put in, and as much of the extraneous stuff taken off as possible — stuff she doesn’t need or would not be interested in. I’ll need to get into the settings and make sure it’s all set up right.

In the knitting news, I’ve started a “kitten hat” for a child — Imagine a manila envelope shape, but instead of the opening flap, it has ribbing all round the edge of the opening. When you put it on, the corners on the bottom of the envelope stick out like kitten ears, because geometry. They’re not as complex as they look. I chose to use two 16-inch needles because I had them to hand.

I used Judy’s Magic Cast-On to cast on 40 pairs of stitches (80 stitches total) onto two 16-inch circular needles. You knit the one side on that needle, and the other side on the other needle, but the yarn goes in a spiral from side to side. (The traditional method is to knit it flat, fold it in half and sew up the sides, but I go seamless whenever possible.)

I could have Magic Looped it with a single 32-inch or 40-inch circular needle, but my magic tuchus didn’t want to get up and go into the other room and get one . . .

One of the more nimble brained among us pointed out that on a swirly hat that swirled to the left, one would want to use a left-leaning decrease (ssk), rather than a right leaning decrease (k2tog). Apologies for the cognitive cropper. Now and again, my thought-into-word converter drops the ball.

I’m using one of the skeins of Caron Simply Soft yarn I got on sale to make another swirl hat, this time using kfb’s instead of yo’s to add the stitches. I’ve got three hats in progress at the moment, and switch from one to the other as I get tired of cables or bored with swirls. One of the things I had to get on my Walmart run was trash bags for various wastebaskets, and I got a box of baggies for the hats.

I make them for Joe Arrington Cancer Center, and they like to have them in baggies with a paper label that tells fiber content and washing instructions. Makes it easy for the Auxillary people to take them round on the snacks cart they use to dispense goodies and drinks in the treatment area if they’re neatly and safely in baggies. I have an appointment with my oncologist in March, and I’ll drop off whatever hats I’ve finished by then.

Here We Go Again

That line from the Mary Chapin Carpenter song comes to mind: “And we dwell in possibilities on New Year’s Day.”

I got my new glasses Friday. I should have known better than to get round lenses, never mind that I like the way they look. The frames had come slightly loose and the lenses had turned in the frame. When I put them on, my center vision was fine, but when I tried to read, the bifocal part was not where it was supposed to be. They had to be adjusted. I had a pair of glasses with round lenses before, except they were lined bifocals and easy to readjust if the frames got loose and the lenses got cattywompus. I even got a little screw driver just to tighten the frame (still have it, as it happens). Worth the aggravation, though, not to have to fool with those stupid bifocal lines that drive me nuts.

Overall, though, I like them. They’re gold frames and very slender, light, and unobtrusive. They also have the little “feet” on the nose piece instead of resting directly on your nose. I got the special lightweight lenses and I noticed the difference right away. Lighter frames and lighter lenses. The bridge of my nose is much happier. I’m about 20/450 in my right eye (What chart?), and Coke bottle bottoms are hard to come by anymore. I also got the nonglare coating and the kind that turn dark in the sun. (For what I paid for the little darlings, they ought to sing opera, too.) I have yet to get a pair of glasses that fully corrects my astigmatism, though. I still see a slight double image on print when I try to read with both eyes — which is why I read with my right eye and without my glasses. I’m about 20/45 in my left eye, and between the two of them, I can see perfectly well to do everything but drive. I can read street signs at a fair distance again, though, which is a big plus.

I’m going to try to get a handiwork group started — open to knitters, crocheters, tatters, embroiderers, hand quilters, etc. I’ll have to put a flyer up in the elevators and by the mailboxes in both buildings to gauge the interest, and to see when and where people want to meet. In the meantime, there’s still a knitting group going at the library that has been infiltrated by crocheters and my friend KC has been urging me to attend.

This was my Christmas present from me to me. They’re copper wire around fossil ammonite shells. Found them on Etsy. The cool thing is that I can wear the earrings with both necklaces. I need to get a copper chain for the one necklace as the gold chain doesn’t match. Yes, I have stoppers for the earrings. Better yet, I got the lot on sale almost 50% off. I’m such a magpie. The necklace on the left is by a Ukrainian artist, Lena Sinelnik. I’ve bought several of her beautiful pieces.

In the knitting news, I finally got around to winding the yarn I got for the Scots bonnets and am in the process of swatching. They’re Aran weight, 100% wool yarns and the pattern calls for US 7 (4.5 mm) needles. Since the bonnets are made from the center out and top down, I’ll have to start them on double pointed needles. However, I’ve got to knit the swatch, measure it, felt it, then remeasure it so I can calculate the percentage of shrinkage and calculate how “too big” to make it. Stay tuned.

I follow a comic called XKCD, which is a collection of “one off” cartoons by Randall Munroe which have to do with various STEM and computer-related topics. I found this one particularly hilarious. Of course, in order to “get” it, you do have to know what a Lagrange point is . . .